A/N: I'm super excited about this chapter. I've been wanting this reunion to happen ever since the end of my second Violet book. Hope you enjoy :)

Chapter Thirty Seven: Reunion

Keeping up with Sayid and Kate was a chore. Sayid was a fast runner, and Kate was zig-zagging here and there trying to pick up Jack's and Sawyer's trail, and then they'd take off again. Violet knew she shouldn't be running at all, not with this hole in her gut, but she knew the odds; they'd never catch up to Jack and Sawyer unless they were going faster. Even that made sense in her mind. Still, as they were jogging through the jungle, Violet's mind kept falling back on Claire, and she found herself glancing at every tree, toward every clearing, every bush, hoping for some clue, some glimpse into what could have happened to Claire. Little Aaron was probably on that freighter, crying for his mommy, and she wasn't there to soothe him.

Would she ever be there to soothe him again?

Violet couldn't think like that. So many people she loved had died, it seemed fixed almost. As soon as you got close to someone, they'd die. Was that really how the world worked? If her luck was that bad, then Claire was dead.

How long would it be before Jack and Kate were next?

Quit thinking like that!

She realized they had all stopped in a clearing, Kate catching her breath as she stared at a bunch of what looked like footprints in the mud.

"Which way did they go?" Sayid asked impatiently, eager to get running again. Violet didn't speak, but was grateful for the quick break.

Kate looked panicked.

"No, something's wrong here." She pointed out the tracks. "There are other tracks here, ones that aren't Sawyer's or Jack's, or ours. And they're doubling back behind us."

Violet's stomach sank as the realization hit her. This time, she was just as quick as Sayid and Kate yanking her gun out from behind her, releasing the safety, and circling to find their enemy.

Violet's heart hammered like an out-of-control machine inside her chest. I should have stayed at the beach, I should have stayed at the beach, I should have stayed at the beach, she thought with every pound of her racing heart. It was the men from the helicopter, who else would it be? Those men knew the three of them were going after them. Had they already killed Jack? Saywer? Were they coming to finish the job? Sayid said it himself; these men were intent on killing every single person on this island. Now, they were going to kill her!

Her hands shook with her gun, and she was sure she forgot how to blink.

"Whoever you are, come out now!" Sayid shouted into the silence. Violet swallowed hard; whoever was following them was stealthy, that was for sure. They were so quiet, Violet half doubted anybody was even around.

But those tracks said something different.

Sure enough, a rustling in a nearby bush caused the three of them to whirl around, guns poised. Violet felt like she was going to hurl right there, as fear seized hold of her gut. All of a sudden, the rustling bush moved, and a figure emerged, hands raised halfway. Violet recognized him, but only vaguely. She'd never officially met the man, but she'd seen him walking with Ben, back when she'd been a prisoner of the Others.

His name was Richard, and he was an Other.

"Hey, easy guys," Richard said in an eerily calm voice. "Listen, if I were you, I'd drop your weapons."

"Shut up!" Kate screamed, taking a daring step toward the intruder. "Back away."

He was inching closer to the three of them. Violet shook with fear. Would she have to shoot him? She had a clear shot, she could...but it didn't seem right. He didn't even have a weapon.

"I said you should drop your guns," Richard said again, drawing closer to the threesome.

"Back off!" Kate boomed.

Then came the first click, the first click of too many to count.

Safeties released on tons of guns.

Violet lifted her eyes and realized at least thirty Others had them surrounded, all pointing rifles toward the three now-victims. Violet swallowed. Were they going to shoot?

Richard stepped toward them again, and ripped the gun from Violet's hand.

"I said," he eyed Sayid and Kate. "Drop your weapons."

With no other choice, Kate and Sayid reluctantly handed over their guns to Richard, as the rest of the Others closed in.

April 2005

Seriously! Who had time to do this much math? Violet's homeroom teacher, Mr. Torino, though Violet had started the ninth grade just in January, having missed the first four months, thought the best way Violet could catch up on all she missed was to give her extra homework every night, more than any other ninth-graders. How was anyone supposed to have a social life with this kind of work load?

Kate was out shopping with the baby. Violet would have offered to watch him, but she knew she'd never get any homework done with the baby. Aaron was an easy baby, hardly a handful, but he loved attention, something Violet knew she couldn't give him, not with her pile of crap to get through before tomorrow.

She glanced at the clock. It was nearing on eight. She sighed. She didn't care how much her grades would suffer, there was no way she was staying up until three in the morning. They could fail her, she didn't care anymore.

As the numbers in her math textbook blurred before her, she froze when the most familiar, yet distinct feeling washed over her.

Her heart stopped, her breath caught. It was a feeling like electricity running through every vein, just a quick zap, and it wasn't painful. It was just...it was like she'd felt it before.

Yes, she had felt it before, once. She'd felt it when she first met-

The doorbell ringing interrupted her thoughts, and she jumped in her seat.

It couldn't be. It couldn't be him.

Could it?

Violet jumped to her feet and ran to the front door, the feeling inside of her growing stronger and stronger. Yes, yes, it had to be him!

She threw open the front door.

There he stood, just like she remembered him.

Walt.

Violet stared, feeling tears brimming in her eyes. She'd known, known it was him from the second that feeling hit her. It was the same feeling she'd felt that first day on the island, when she shook Walt's hand. Something had passed between them, something neither had ever spoken about, or been able to explain. Walt had always been different, had been able to sense things. He'd known, when he left on the raft with his dad, that Violet was in danger, and sure enough, the Others had come for her. Then, there was that day in her underwater cell, as Juliet questioned her, when Violet knew, just knewWalt was in the building. That feeling led her to escape her cell, run through the winding corridors of the underground and find Walt, just like magnets. She'd known.

But then he left the island, and that feeling went away with him.

Until now.

And here he was.

"Walt?"

Just the same, but a little taller. After all, it had been six months since she'd last seen him, on the island in the Hydra station.

Walt's mouth stretched into a smile.

"Hi, Violet."

And, like no time had passed at all, the two fell into an embrace, Violet clinging tight. All these months, she'd imagined the million things that could have happend to Walt. She imagined him dead, imagined him in some far away country, because she'd never been able to feel that connection again. She'd even tried looking him and Michael up once they'd been rescued, but there seemed to be no record of a Michael Dawson anywhere.

Letting go of Walt, Violet smiled wide.

"Walt, I can't believe you're here!" she exclaimed, motioning him inside. "I mean, where have you been, how did you find me?"

"It's a long story, Vi." Walt breathed out as he sat down at the table with Violet.

"I wanna hear it."

So Walt told her. Told her how he and his father followed the bearing on the boat Ben had given them, ended up finding a mailing ship and going back to New York. He told her about how his dad went a little weird, and then told him about how he'd murdered Ana Lucia and Libby. Walt stopped talking to him after that, and Michael took off, leaving Walt with his grandmother. He hadn't seen his dad since.

"I'm sorry, Walt," Violet said quietly, reaching for her friend's hand. "He shouldn't have told you that stuff."

"I know." Walt sighed. "I can't stay long, Violet, my gramma is waiting outside in a car. I begged her to let me come here, once I found out where you were. She wasn't happy, thought it was stupid to fly to LA for one visit, but she finally said yes."

"I'm glad she did."

"Violet, I gotta ask you a question."

"Sure Walt."

"Why're you all lying?"

The question stung Violet hard. Though she could feel Walt's presence, she couldn't predict this question.

Suddenly, Violet felt the weight of their burden, their need to lie. Ever since they arrived in LA back in January, Jack had made it his personal mission to make sure each one of them took seriously the need to keep lying, to keep their stories straight. Thankfully, Violet had never needed to belittle the lie, not really. Most people shut up about the plane crash when she said she didn't want to talk about it; people were uncomfortable with emotions.

But this was Walt. Surely, she wasn't expected to lie to him. After all, he knew about everything that happened on the island; he knew their story was wrong. Their plane hadn't crashed in the water, there were more than just eight survivors, and the other survivors were still on that island.

At least, they were four months ago...

"I hate lying, Walt," Violet whispered, even though nobody else was around. "But Jack thinks we have to, to keep everyone who's still on the island safe. This guy, his name's Charles Widmore, he wants to find the island, and if he finds it, he'll probably kill everyone there. He's tried it once before. If we told everyone about the island, about all the survivors, we'd be putting everyone in danger."

Walt listened carefully, and nodded, playing with his fingernails. The two friends sat in silence, both floating back to the happy memories on the island, before they knew they were watched by the Others, before Walt was stripped away from her, before things got worse.

"Do you still think about the island, Walt?" Violet asked in a quiet whisper, desperate for a confidant. Ever since the seven of them had left the island, it was like the rest of them decided they never wanted to think about it again. Violet so desperately needed someone to talk to about the island, to remember people like Claire, and Juliet, and Sawyer, but everyone else seemed just as satisfied to pretend the island never happened.

But it had happened. To forget the four months on the island would mean forgetting the place she laid her sister to rest, the place where she'd learned the truth about her father. Too many things happened on that island to just forget.

"All the time," Walt admitted. "I know it's not a safe place, I know it was dangerous, but it was...home."

"Yeah. Home." Violet agreed, smiling a little. "It was home."

They sat in more silence for a very long time before Walt gave a sigh.

"I should really go, my gramma said we couldn't stay long."

"Hey Walt." Violet paused. "I'm...I'm really sorry about Vincent."

She'd wanted to say it since the moment Walt appeared on her doorstep. It still felt so vivid, that day Walt bequethed the yellow lab to Violet, entrusting her to care for his good friend. After Violet was taken by the Others, Vincent had disappeared, but came back to her eventually. Then, they'd been rescued, and Vincent was left behind. Violet had felt guilty about leaving behind all those people, of course, but Vincent had been a gift. Walt had trusted her to care for the dog, and now, who knew where Vincent was.

She felt horrible.

But Walt only shrugged.

"It's okay, Violet. I know he's alright. He liked the island almost as much as we did," he explained, standing up. Violet smiled.

"Thanks Walt."

"I gotta go. I'm so glad I found you." He walked with Violet toward the front door. "You should come visit me in New York sometime. My gramma already said you could. We got a spare room and everything."

"That's great. I will." Violet smiled again as the two met eyes at the door. "I'm so glad you came, Walt. I thought...well, I thought I'd never see you again."

"Weird," Walt reflected. "Because I knew we would."