Hello, my friends. Thank you minstorai for the review. It is so motivating and nice to hear your nice words. Here is the next chapter :).

I don't wake up until late the next morning. The clothes I've been wearing are getting dirty, so I throw some new ones on. Not mine, but that is nothing new. Most of what I've been wearing has been the clothes of the deceased. At first, it felt morbid, but I've long since gotten over that. I have very few clothes that are actually mine, and I can't afford to be picky. I brush my hair before walking over to the stockpile of fruit to grab something for breakfast.

"Hey" Patrick greets casually after I grab an orange.

"Hey? What, are you just going to pretend you weren't out in the jungle, possibly dead all night?" I ask incredulously.

"Sam, calm down. I'm fine. We were looking for Claire and it got dark so we camped out for the night. You've done the same thing before."

"Yeah, well I'm a bad example." I joke, easing the tension. "But, seriously. I was worried about you. I'm glad you're back."

Patrick sighs "You worry too much, don't you know I can take care of myself?"

"Of course I do. I've seen you, you can hold your own as good as I can. But I'm your big sister. It's my job to worry sometimes." I tell him.

"Yeah well, you can take a day off every once in a while," he tells me, smiling jovially. "So, do you have any plans for today?" he asks.

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know. I guess just find something to do until the next disaster. You?"

"Locke, Boone, and I are going to keep looking for Claire."

"Seriously, it was raining pretty hard yesterday, at least where I was. There can't still be a trail."

"We just want to make sure we cover all our bases," Patrick tells me, adverting his eyes ever so slightly. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Yeah, sure," I say, and he walks off.

Flashback

"Dad, come on. You've been sick for weeks now. You never can eat, you need to see a doctor. Please just let me drive you." I say to my father.

"What, you think I am too much of a drunk to drive myself. I'm your father, you need to show me more respect."

I hold back my exasperation. "I don't think that at all dad. I'm just trying to help."

"I don't need your help," he says stubbornly, his anger rising.

"Of course you don't need help. But just let me help you, it can't hurt." I plead. "You can drive if you want, just go and see a doctor. You've been telling me how bad you feel all the time. You deserve to feel better."

He contemplates my words for a few minutes, silent. I can see what he is thinking as he thinks it, and I can see the moment he eventually lands on his conclusion. "Fine, I'll go. And you can drive if you're so desperate to."

I smile at my small victory and grab the keys.

Present day

Five or six days pass, or maybe a week. The time hardly seems worth keeping track of. Patrick is off with Boone and Locke all day, and he still won't tell me what he is actually doing. I think he knows that I know that he is lying, but I don't push it. He will tell me when he is ready too, and as worried and curious as I am I can wait.

It is the middle of another long day of nothingness when Jack comes running up from the path to the beach. "Sam, hey. Get down to the beach. The tide is coming up and it's going to take over the beach camp. We need as many hands as we can get."

I am already standing when he finishes speaking, and I quickly dash off while Jack stays behind to enlist more help.

It is pandemonium down at the beach as people scramble to rescue the beach camp that is quickly getting washed away. Suitcases and other belongings are being pulled into the waves. I quickly jump in to help, wading in the water to rescue belongings and putting them on higher land. My jeans quickly get soaked and I take off my shirt and wear only my sports bra to prevent more of my clothes from getting drenched in the salty water.

The work continues through the day as everything is moved out of the reach of the waves. It is evening by the time this work is done, and it is only a temporary solution. The tide has gone back down for the night, but in the morning we will have to move everything up shore to a new beach camp that Sayid scouted out. The sun setting cools the air and I find my shirt and put it back on to keep my body warm. The day's activities leave me exhausted, but it feels good. Sitting around all day and doing nothing wears you out in a different way. Productivity is a good distraction from the fact that we have no way home. I sit down on the beach and stare off into the ocean. I know I should head back to the camp, I saw Patrick heading up about an hour earlier before it gets darker, but I decide to rest anyways. After about ten minutes I decided to head back.

As I am heading back I pass by Sawyer who has some sort of case.

"What's that?" I ask, walking up towards him.

"A case. What's it look like?"

I roll my eyes and sit down in his tent next to him. "Thanks, captain obvious. I mean where'd you get it. What's in it?"

"Well, that's the mystery grey eyes. Any guesses?"

"Can I see?" I ask him.

He narrows his eyes at me. "How do I know you aren't going to take off into the jungle with it?"

I give him a look "What would I want with something that can't be opened?"

Sawyer sighs and hands it to me "Do you get less convincing with time?"

I examine the case before answering him. It looks pretty much unopenable without the key. I shake it a bit before handing it back to him. "Guns and money, if I had to guess. And no, not that I'm aware of."

"What makes you so sure that's what's in here?"

"I'm not sure, but it makes sense. There's definitely something hard in there, and the case seems pretty secure. People tend to be pretty careful with their weapons and cash. Where'd you find this anyway?"

"What, you want to see if there is more cash where it came from? Sorry to disappoint, but I think I got it all," he says cockily.

"No, what would I want with cash anyway?"

"Well, grey eyes I'm not sure how far gone you are into island life. But back home you can actually use money."

I glare "I know that. But whatever money you get here won't really matter. The airline will probably have to pay us a pretty significant settlement that will be way more than any money you can amass here. That is if we ever get home.

"Well, well, well. Aren't you the forward thinker," he says reflectively. It is quite thoroughly dark outside now, it has been for a while if I am being completely honest. "What are you doing so far away from cave town anyway?"

"Helping keep this camp from drowning," I say nonchalantly.

"Well, aren't you the good citizen."

I shrug my shoulders "It's something to do. And they needed all the help they could get." I yawn. "But now I regret not heading back earlier, I don't really feel like going all the way back over there."

"If you don't want to go all the way back then I am sure that arrangements could be made," Sawyer says, a suggestive look on his face. "I have plenty of room."

"Good for you, I'm going back to the caves," I say with a small smile.

Flashback

I'm watching a football game with Dad when the phone rings, I walk into the kitchen and pick it up

"Hello, Moss residence"

"Hi, I'm Sheri. I'm calling from Summerstone Wellness Center. Is this Collin Moss?"

"No, this is his daughter. Can I give him a message?" I say, twirling the phone cord around my finger anxiously.

"I'm sorry, but I have to speak to your father myself. Can you please get him on the phone?"

"Uh, sure. Give me a second." I hold the phone against my chest. "Hey, dad, some lady from the doctor's is calling. She says she needs to talk to you."

"Why can't you just talk to her?!" my father shouts from the living room.

"I don't know. She won't let me. It should only take a minute." I say, even though I am not sure how true that is.

"Fine, I'll talk to her." My dad grumbles back, and I hear his footsteps approaching. Moments later he is in the kitchen and I hand him the phone. He is only on the phone for a few minutes, but I can tell it is bad news by the time he hangs the phone up. I am sitting on the counter.

"What is it?" I ask cautiously, aware that he could very easily explode at me right now.

"You remember when you took me to the doctor's a bit ago?"

I nod.

"Well, I had to go back a couple of times and they did some tests. They recently got the results back. The doctor says I have some liver disease, cirrhosis."

I exhale deeply. "What's that mean."

"I don't know! It's not good! Shouldn't you know more about this stuff? Aren't you dating that doctor boy?

"Rob's father is a doctor. Rob isn't." I tell him calmly. "What do you want me to do right now? Do you want to finish the game or...?"

"I don't need your pity company. Go do something else and leave me alone."

I slide off of the countertop. "Okay, I'll leave."

I walk upstairs and tell Patrick where I am going before grabbing the car keys and heading to Rob's house.

The next morning on the island

I am about to head down to the beach when Kate approaches me. "Hey, Sam. Do you have a second?"

"Yeah, sure. What's up?"

"You know Sawyer pretty well, right?"

I laugh a bit "Well, I don't know about that. But I talk to him a lot I guess, why?"

"He has something of mine. He won't give it to me, but if you asked him..." she trails off.

"What, you think he'd just give this thing to me? I don't know what it is you want, but he won't give it to me unless there is something in it for him. I know him well enough to know that."

"I know that," Kate says, sounding frustrated. "It's just, it's really important. Could you please just try?"

I sigh "What is it that he has?"

"A silver case, like the one that John had his knives in."

"Okay, what's in it?" I ask.

Kate shifts and doesn't answer. "Listen, will you talk to him or not?"

I run my hand through my hair "If I thought I could help you, I would. But I'm not going to change anything, and I don't want to get in the middle of this. I'm sorry."

"That's fine. Where are you heading?"

"Down to the beach. They need help relocating the camp, and I don't really have anything better to do."

"I'm heading down too, want some company?"

"Sure" I reply, and we head down to the beach together.

"Are you seriously trying to pick that lock?" I ask Sawyer. It is afternoon now, and the migration of the camp is coming along. I took my shirt hours ago and tucked it in the waistband of my shorts to minimalize the heat on my body.

He looks up at me and a roughish grin comes on his face "Not anymore I'm not." His eyes survey my body.

I roll my eyes "You're an idiot." I say, "And, you are never going to pick that lock."

"What makes you a lock expert?"

"It doesn't take an expert to know that those things can't be opened without the key. Which, you clearly don't have."

"Well, what do you suggest, genius?"

"You've got to chuck it off of something high. The force plus the speed might pop it open." I suggest, swiping a water bottle from him.

He grabs my wrist, his eyes dancing "That ain't your, grey eyes."

I twist out of his grip almost immediately and distance myself. "Yeah, well I've been working all morning moving stuff and you've been sitting around doing nothing."

"I've been trying to open this" he defends.

I look at the closed case "Keyword, trying to. It is still just as closed and locked as it was when you found it." I point out.

"Yeah, well. What's it to you anyway."

"Nothing much, just pointing out facts," I say. I stand up "Well, I am going to go back to being productive and helpful. But you can continue to waste your time with that." I grab the water bottle "And, I am keeping this."

Flashback

I am sitting at Rob's kitchen table, and his dad is sitting across from us. I've been seeing him for about six months now. We both work at the same place. Neither of us went to college right after high school. He decided to take a year off between high school and college because he wanted to take a break from school, much to his father's disappointment. My father has yet to comment on my choice to do the same, albeit for different reasons.

"So what does this mean. They say he has cirrhosis, some liver disease." I ask Rob's dad.

"It's a chronic liver disease. It has multiple stages so your dad's condition would depend on what stage he is in," he explains. He explains much more too, as I ask extensively about the disease, somehow thinking that if I know enough I can save my father. Rob just sits there and holds my hand the entire time. The entire time while I try not to think of what we are going to do now. How are we going to afford all this healthcare? How will I tell my brother? What will happen to us if my dad dies? It is an avalanche of confusion and I swear to myself to never let myself feel so helpless ever again in my life. Unfortunately, that doesn't work out.

That night on the island

It is late by the time the beach camp is completely safe, but by the time the sun sets everything is moved. I start to head back to the caves and I run into Patrick.

"Hey, why are you heading to the beach?" I ask him.

"I was looking for you, actually. I need to show you something," he says, looking serious.

"Okay, does this have anything to do with what you and Locke and Boone are doing?" I ask.

He nods. "Locke doesn't want us to tell anyone, but I can't keep this from you. But I can't tell you, it's too complicated. I can show you though."

"Alright, lead the way."

Patrick leads the way through the masses of the jungle, he clearly knows which way he is going but I've never been this way before. As we get deeper in I start to see the path that the three of them have been wearing down over the past week or so. Subtle signs like vines that have been pushed out of the way and relocated tree branches make this obvious.

"Do you ever think about why we crashed here?" Patrick asks me as we walk.

I don't respond right away, confused by the question. "We crashed because the plane messed up or something. I don't know. What's it matter?"

"It matters," he says solemnly. "And I don't mean how the plane crashed, I mean why? Why did we crash? And why here, this island of all places. We've been surviving here for weeks without too many issues, and we all survived the crash, virtually unscarred.

"What do you mean 'surviving here without too many issues?' Claire was kidnapped a week ago. Charlie was almost killed. There's a crazy French lady who's been here for over 16 years. We've seen polar bears and mysterious black masses of smoke that try to kill us. How is that 'not too many issues?" I ask, gathering speed as I speak.

"But we have a good source of food and water. Two safe camp locations, hypothetically we could survive here forever."

"But why would we want to? We are going to find a way home eventually." I tell him.

"Yeah, because we have so much waiting for us back home," he says bitterly.

I stop him mid-step "Hey, what's the matter? What have you been thinking about?"

He sighs, running his hand through his hair, looking conflicted "Be honest Sam, we don't have it so great back home. I mean I guess now we both have it good enough, nice enough places an all that but it feels like bad luck follows is everywhere there."

"I get that, but if bad luck follows us then it is bad luck we landed on this island. Plane crashes are like one in a million. I'll find a way off of this island if I have to swim off. And we can go back home."

He is silent for a while, and I watch him process what I just said. "Come on, it's right around the corner," he says, not responding but changing the topic. I follow him and don't say anything more on the subject.

When we turn the corner my eyes are immediately drawn to the ground where a large metal door lies in the earth. I walk over to it and knell next to it, Patrick follows close behind.

"It's a hatch?" I ask, trying to comprehend what I am seeing. The door is made out of a hard metal, and the window is tough. I peer through it but I can't see much.

"Yeah, we found it on accident when we were looking for Claire. But, we want to open it. To see what's in it." Patrick explains.

"What do you think is inside?" I ask, sitting back and looking at Patrick.

"I don't know, that's why we are trying to open it."

I sigh, torn on what I should say.

"You don't think it's a good idea," Patrick says. It's a statement, not a question, but I respond anyway.

"It's not that, not exactly. It could be really useful, whatever is in here. But, it could be dangerous too. There's a lot of sketchy stuff on this island."

"So what? You think we should leave it? It could be what saves us all."

"No, I don't think you should just leave it. You're right, it could give us a way off this rock. Someone built this, and maybe they left a way to communicate in there. But, be careful. I know you can take care of yourself, but this could be really dangerous. It's your thing, but just be smart, okay?"

Patrick nods "You know I can do that." he says seriously. "But Sam, promise me you won't tell anyone about this. Locke wouldn't even have wanted me to tell you, but you're my sister, I was going to tell you. You would have told me. But, this information can't spread. Not to anyone, promise?"

"Yeah, of course." I agree without hesitation. "You know I can keep a secret if I need to."

"That's for sure" he mutters in agreement.

I narrow my eyes "What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, faking offense.

"Just that you were pretty damn good at keeping secrets from Dad when he was alive."

"Like what 'secrets'?"

"Like, like all sorts of stuff" Patrick says. "You got away with so much shit that most parents would have lost their minds about.

"Yeah, well dad wasn't most parents." I say somberly.

"Yeah, I guess not." he reflects.

End of chapter. What did you guys think? Regarding Samantha's dad's illness, cirrhosis is a chronic liver disease. It's a pretty complicated disease, I won't pretend I understand it completely, but everyone is affected differently. Excessive alcohol consumption can be a factor with cirrhosis. Also, I do understand that that is not how diagnosing works but the story needs to flow so... that's how I wrote it. Please review, it really keeps me motivated to write. Praise and constructive criticism are both welcome. Also remember, my inbox is always open if you want to PM me. - K.