"This might hurt for a second."

She gave me fair warning, but I still cry out when the needle pierces the tender inside of my arm.

"The worst is over," Juliet says softly as she tapes the needle against my skin to hold it in place. "Thank you for this. Whoops, you alright?"

"Not great with needles." I don't flinch away from Juliet's steady hand on my shoulder because I absolutely need it to keep from falling forward off my chair. I focus on breathing and berating myself for already feeling lightheaded enough to pass out. Keep talking. Stay conscious. "I don't want to give blood anymore after this. Take as much as you need while I'm here."

Ben's off somewhere getting an x-ray and a new set of stitches while I'm left to make small talk with Juliet, which hasn't exactly been invigorating. Neither of us have much to say to each other rather than awkward pleasantries. I haven't learned all that much that differs from who she is in the show: she has a sister named Rachel, she came to the island under false pretenses, and she's been here for three years.

"You have any siblings?"

"I'm the oldest." Her question brings me back from the brink. "Two sisters and a brother." In the show, Juliet was surprisingly ruthless in her attempts to return home. But she hasn't even asked me once if I will let her leave. "So. . . three years, huh?" I inquire nonchalantly, still locked in a battle not to give into the creeping tunnel vision. "That's a long time. You haven't been back to visit your sister since then?"

"I visited home for my nephew's birth, and I visited again for his second birthday." Juliet removes the first filled vial of blood. "You look surprised to hear this."

"And you came back?"

"I sort of. . . owe these people a debt," she finishes cryptically. "I haven't finished my research."

"Research?" An annoyed laugh shakes out of me at the thought. "If someone lied to me about a job offer and was holding me hostage on an island, and then they were dumb enough to let me go home. . ." I shake my head and instantly regret the dizziness that follows. "I wouldn't have come back, that's for sure. Screw the research."

"If I can figure out how to do what I've been sent here to do, it will all be worth it. For more than just these people." Juliet stares at me as we wait for the second vial to fill with blood. "Why did you tell Harper I was sleeping with her husband?"

"Sorry?" Her voice is just as soft as usual, but I'm surprised by her insulted tone. "I thought she already knew." I thought everyone knew?

"Knew what? Goodwin and I are not together," she says. "We've never been. . . is that a vision you had? That we become a couple?"

Is she lying? But what would be the point in lying? Especially to me? "You aren't having an affair with Goodwin?"

"No," she proclaims more passionately than I would have expected.

"Oh." What are the chances that I could be wrong? I've been wrong before. Who's to say a string of coincidences led to them not having an affair? "Oh, wow. I am so sorry, Juliet. I must have gotten bad intel. I can talk to her if you need me to."

"I think the damage has already been done. Don't worry about it," she adds kindly at my panicked expression. "I think she's hated me since the moment I shipped in on the sub. Harper had some. . . strong opinions when she confronted me earlier about what you said. I could tell she'd been saving them for a while."

"Sorry." I look away as she removes the second filled vial and exchanges it for an empty one. I wonder how many she's going to take. Please don't pass out. Now that she claims not to be in a relationship with Goodwin, I cannot help but be nosy. "So does that mean you're single?"

"You must be very bored if you're asking about my love life. The only long-term relationship I've ever had was with my ex-husband."

I snort. "Yeah, he seemed like a real winner. I won't say I'm sorry he was hit by a bus, but I will say I'm sorry you had to see it." From the way she's staring, I begin to worry I got that detail wrong as well.

"It's one thing for people to prepare me for a seer, but another thing entirely to experience one firsthand." Juliet looks me up and down with a flick of her eyes and that annoyed smirk that I hate. "May I be honest?"

"Sure."

"You're not at all what I was expecting."

"Yeah," I sigh. "I've been getting that a lot."

Juliet's small tense smile grows more relaxed. "I meant it as a compliment."

Juliet's fine, I guess. Very soft-spoken. Very polite. In the grand scheme of things, I have very little patience for cheaters, so Juliet was always pretty low on my list of favorite characters. But apparently she hasn't cheated? I honestly don't know how to feel with all this conflicting information. She seems sadder than I expected. Much sadder. It must be because of the women she couldn't save—the ones who died in childbirth.

Wait.

"Why are you even here?" I ask suddenly, startling us both. "Sorry, I just mean you're a fertility doctor, right? I saw about a dozen newborn babies on Hydra. Not sure fertility is an issue."

I catch the hints of a pathetically fake smile, but it's not the arrogant smirk I'm used to receiving. This one is full of legitimate pain. "For some," she finally says.

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't been able to figure it out yet." I see a whole mess of answers and emotions in her wandering eyes. "At first we thought it had to do with the mainland, so we sent pregnant women to Hydra. When that didn't work, I thought maybe it was linked to your people specifically, but there are a few women who have given birth without being genetically linked to your people. I've taken blood samples, tested the water, studied their diet. There's no comprehensive answer to what is happening or even who it's going to happen to. Some women just. . ." She goes still, and I regret asking.

"I'm sorry," I whisper when she makes no attempts to talk again.

"I wouldn't consider myself a religious person," she says randomly. "So when Richard approached me about working here, I didn't see it as. . . what your people call fate. Richard told me these labs were located near Portland." I watch as Juliet removes the last of the blood-filled vials, begins pealing off the tape, and pulls out the needle from my arm. "I was supposed to be working on a challenge that would shoot me up the ranks into research stardom. Then I got here, and suddenly their story changed. Talked about a fertility goddess who could heal the wounded. Who could ensure pregnant women didn't die in childbirth." She pauses and wipes my incision with a cotton-swab. "But this special being was dead. And now they needed an alternative to stop whatever is killing their women."

She pauses and locks eyes with me, and I feel compelled, yet again, to defend my recent behavior. "This whole thing," I admit much more calmly than I did to Harper, "has been very confusing for me."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm currently talking to their fairy-tale," she says softly, pressing a bandaid against the crook of my arm. "So I'd say I'm just about as confused as you are."

I stare at the group and try to keep calm under the myriad of expressions they throw my way. The survivors are being kept in a variety of places, so I start with the closest area first. In this group, Hugo, Artz, Jack, the guy with the rash, and two other men I've never met stare up at me from their seat in the grass. The norsemen tasked with guarding them are quick to bow when they see me approaching.

"I'd like to talk to them, please," I tell the nearest guard. "Your name is?"

"Christopher, my lady." He inclines his head of long black hair. "Talk to them all you'd like."

I'm in the middle of trying to figure out what exactly to say when Hugo exclaims, "Dude, that was terrifying. Your eyes were glowing when you slingshot that guy into a house. So, are you like, an X-Men or something?"

"No, you idiot," Artz chimes in. "Haven't you been paying attention? Our prison guards are Nordic. She's a Norse Goddess. Do any of you know anything about the Vanir? The Vanir are—"

"What have you done with Kate?" Jack demands angrily.

Jack is glaring at me with a particularly amusing Jackface. I try not to be biased, but I honestly thought the least interesting aspect of Lost was the perpetual "will they won't they" between Jack, Kate, and Sawyer. At the end of the day, it felt tedious and was included in the show only because people seem to be obsessed with stupid love triangles.

Ugh, spare me the pointless drama. I turn to Christopher. "The woman who helped kill the boar. Do you know where she's being kept?"

"Apologies, my lady. I don't know where she's being held until the trial."

"Trial?"

"For the two dead boar," he explains. "Normally, my people would have beheaded all three of them for killing a sacred boar, let alone two. But the murders technically occurred under Jacob's jurisdiction. You'll have to take up the legalities with Ben."

Jack's head seems to be spinning as he slowly pieces together what's happening. "Trial? She's on trial for killing a pig? It's a pig."

Hugo not so subtly tries to shush him, whispering, "Dude, Cora talks to animals."

"I don't care what she does," Jack rants. "I want to see that Kate's okay, and I want to see her now—"

Christopher backhands him so hard Jack's head flops back. "Watch your tone in our lady's presence."

"Hey," I yell. "Take it easy! Jeez." Jack pulls a hand away from bloodied lips, and I frown at Christopher. "Did you have to do that? He just wants to know she's not hurt. Jack, I won't let anything happen to Kate."

"What's going to happen to us?" the man with the rash interrupts. "Please, don't kill me. I've got kids back home!"

"Nobody is going to kill you," I assure him. "In fact, I'm in the middle of negotiating your ticket off this island."

"You're gonna get us off the island?" Hugo interrupts. "How?"

The conversation devolves into madness, and I stop talking. What have you done with the women from the crash? If you can leave the island, why are you here? Where is this island located? When can we leave? How can we leave? Are these actual Vikings? Where did they come from? What are the extent of your powers? What the hell is going on?

To keep myself from spiraling into a daze, I open my notebook and start crossing off the things I've completed. I add Inquire about who poisoned me to the list just as Christopher yells something in Old Norse. I turn to look at who he's talking to and see Ben stop mid step, turn curiously towards us, and walk over. Continuing the conversation in Norse, Christopher gestures every once in a while to the survivors and then nods at me.

"For future reference," says Ben, "I believe she's requesting to be called Just Cora now. Excuse us a moment, please." Ben nods at Christopher and the other guards as he pulls me a few steps away from the group. "You need to ask me something?"

"Can I ask a favor?"

"I don't know," he retorts. "Can you?"

"I'd like for you to call off the trial. For the people who killed the boars."

"No," Ben says with a small shake of his head. "I don't think I should."

"I think you should."

"A thoroughly convincing argument. How will I ever rebut it?"

All this sarcasm is completely exhausting and putting me in a bad mood. "I just think it's unfair to expect people to know laws that don't exist out in the real world."

"You know what laws do exist out in the real world? Murder charges." Ben's eyes narrow into displeased little slits. "Why does it look like you disagree?"

"It's not murder," I say and instantly regret it because now Ben's looking at me like I'm insane. "They're animals. It's different."

"I'm sorry, did I hallucinate all your conversations with Margo?"

At the mention of Margo, I perk up. "What are you doing with Sawyer?"

"Have you been faking your relationship with Fenrir?" Ben continues, completely ignoring my question.

Stop talking over me and stop evading my questions! "Where's Sawyer?" I repeat loudly. "Is he on trial too?"

"Yes," Ben snaps, "of course he's on trial. He killed Margo." I try to argue, but Ben's not listening. "Cora," he says sharply, officially dropping the teasing tone. "Can you talk to animals?"

"Yes."

"You can hold coherent conversations with them?"

He knows all of this. Why is he asking? "Yes."

"Would you say these conversations prove an intelligence among them?"

I snort a frustrated breath through my nose. "Yes."

"Then why are we even having this conversation?"

"Because they didn't know that!" I point at the group of survivors, who are trying to act like they can't hear me. All except for Hugo, who is staring with wide-eyed curiosity from one of us to the other as we argue. "That's the whole point. I didn't tell any of them I could talk to animals."

Ben studies me, nodding slowly, as if I'm a small confused child he pities for not being able to fully grasp the situation. "You do understand if this had happened even a quarter-mile more inland, your people would be within their legal rights to decapitate all three of the prisoners? No trial needed? At least we will allow the prisoners to speak in court."

"Really? You'll let them speak at their own trial? Wow, thank you for going above and beyond, Ben. I feel so much better about this." Sweat breaks out on my neck at the thought of more executions. "If this had happened more inland, I'd just order my people to release them."

"Is that what you're doing now?" he asks lowly. "Ordering me to release them? With all due respect, you don't plan to live on this island, Cora." I finally see what Ben looks like when he's not trying to befriend me for some alternative purpose, and the dangerous warning in his eyes makes me fall silent. "So, unless you plan on stripping away the rights to our own jurisdiction, this situation is my problem."

I'm not going to let people die because they didn't know not to kill the boar. Especially not Locke, Kate, and Michael. Michael has a kid. What about Walt? No. No more threats to orphan children. I steel myself and look back up at him. "There has to be some other way of handling this."

"Oh, wise goddess, what would you have me do?" Ben's question is tinged with so much bite, I don't think he actually expects an answer. "This may surprise you, but we have rules here. I can't pardon them from our laws simply because they're ignorant."

Ben seems very comfortable mocking me in front of my own guards. I frown up at him, no longer nervous. "Are you a vegetarian?" I barely give him time to nod before saying, "Have you always been a vegetarian? You've never had a burger before? Or a hot dog? A chicken sandwich? Yes, you have. I know you have, because you only became a vegetarian for my sake after your father brought you to this island. Someone had to teach you the rules. All I'm asking for is the same grace that was extended to you."

"Which means?"

"You can have your trial, but I want final say for the verdict."

A small smile quirks up the corner of his lips as his words hiss from behind his teeth. "That undermines our entire court system."

I can tell I've massively pissed him off, but I still can't help but push my luck. "Am I allowed to do that, Ben?"

"You," he says dryly and gives a breathy, humorless laugh. "You can do whatever you'd like."

I don't know what else there is to say, so I turn and start walking back to Jane's house on autopilot.

I've rounded the corner of the courtyard, so her porch is in sight, when I feel someone fall in step beside me. I look over without stopping and see Ben side-eying me with a small smirk.

"That went even better than I expected," he says. "Thank you for cooperating."

"Excuse me?"

"Asshole," Jane yells before I can ask Ben to clarify what he means. She's leaning over the porch railing with a bag of ice still pressed to the back of her head.

"Jane," Ben greets.

"Drop the smile, Linus. Your days are numbered."

Ben doesn't seem particularly interested in her threats and turns to address Gail. "It's done," he confirms.

"Good," says Gail. "All this anxiety is bad for my bones. They're creaky enough as it is."

"Wait," I question, already feeling a flare of anger as I realize what's going on. "Are you telling me that whole argument wasn't even real?"

"Do you have this under control, Gail?" Ben waves a hand in my direction, and my entire face scrunches up in a seething scowl at being referred to as this. "There's somewhere I need to be."

"Yes, thank you, Benjamin. That will be all for now."

"Ladies." Ben addresses Jane and Gail and then turns to me with a deep nod of his head. "Just Cora."

There are a million questions I want to ask, but instead I just watch him walk away. Then I fix my smoldering fury on Gail.

"Please forgive me for keeping you in the dark," she pleads, "but you're not a very convincing actress, Cora. Trust me, I know. We needed a genuine reaction from you or he was never going to buy it."

Who? Buy who? Who's buying what? "What are you talking about?"

"You've done a very good job of frightening everyone," says Gail. "Which will serve you well with your own people, but I'm afraid fear isn't the solution to gaining the survivors allegiance. Jack is their de facto leader. If you gain his trust and respect with a show of compassion and leniency, you practically run their group."

"Why would I need to run their group? They're going home soon."

"Didn't Benjamin tell you?" she questions curiously. "The submarine can only accommodate eight extra people after accounting for the crew. It's going to be a rather long transition back to the outside world for these people. It's best if you're in their good graces while they're here. Wouldn't want them to get any ideas."

Judging by her white hair and delicate skin, Gail has been on this island for quite a while. More than thirty years, if my math is correct. And the way she always seems to know what's going on is a little suspect. Come to think of it, Ben seems to report to her whenever something is about to happen. I wonder if she's the one running everything. I wonder what she's still not telling me. "You're right about my acting skills." I huff a laugh to try and seem unperturbed. "It was a good plan, I guess. So, thank you."

"Oh, this wasn't my idea, dear." Gail's eyes wrinkle in the corners when she smiles. "It was your betrothed."

Freshly showered at long last, I sit in a chair like a good little show-dog as the survivors are carted out one at a time and their "crimes" are listed before an audience comprised solely of Ben's people. Sawyer, Kate, Michael, and Locke each have the same confused argument about not knowing the animals were sacred, and that they will never do it again.

Fenrir and Pumba fidget in my lap as I wait for the four of them to all be addressed and speak their peace before reciting the carefully-crafted response Ben discussed with me about an hour ago. In an effort to appease us both, Ben decided the only way to ensure a fair yet balanced outcome was to limit the four of them to a house arrest and a month of manual labor on their respective islands—Kate on Hydra, and Sawyer, Locke, and Michael wherever they keep the men.

It wraps up rather nicely. I nod and smile and accept their thanks as they're escorted out to go serve their time. Guess that means those four aren't going home anytime soon.

It's not like I did much, but it feels good to have this over and done with. I stand up and suddenly the entire room is standing, and the suddenness of it all frightens me. I'm quick to cover my wide-eyed stare with a fake relaxed smile as I hurry across the room. Pumba's little hoofed feet clack against the cement floor in quick succession as he follows behind me.

I'm almost out the door and into the free air when someone grabs my sleeve.

"One moment, please," Ben says. "I need to talk to you."

I yank out of his grip and continue for the door. "Can you not walk and talk at the same time? All I had for breakfast was some kind of oatmeal mush. I'm getting a headache."

"I'm hungry, too," says Pumba.

"I'm not," says Fenrir. "Wimp."

"Don't call me a wimp!"

"You're a huge wimp," Fenrir taunts. "You ran away when your family needed you. I never would have let someone kill my parents."

I whirl around in shock. "What did you just say? Hey. Hey!"

Pumba blindsides the wolf by tackling him hard in the side, pinning him up against a wall. I have to lift Fenrir up by his scruff to keep him from being rolled over and stomped into oblivion by the angry piglet. Pumba screams and turns to me, hoofing at my shin in a useless attempt to reach the yelping pup in my hand.

Fenrir's ears flatten against his furry skull when I say, "Apologize to him right now!"

"I'm sorry," he whines quietly and licks my fingers.

"Don't apologize to me," I say.

Fenrir hangs pathetically limp in my hand, like a sack of potatoes. "I'm sorry your parents died, Pumba. You're not a wimp."

Pumba only responds with a single angry oink.

I put Fenrir down and he flattens completely against the floor. "Why would you say something like that?" I ask angrily. "What is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want to have this discussion again, boys. You hear me?" I look up in search of the door and realize the room is silently watching the altercation.

Ben falls in step beside me as we finally walk out into the bright sunshine. "I have more information about the wedding," he announces, and I have a sinking feeling whatever it is he needs to say can't be good. "Despite my attempts to persuade them otherwise, it looks like your people actually want to add a day."

I stop in my tracks and stare up at him in disbelief. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't that. "A five day wedding? This is ridiculous. What do you even do during a five day wedding?"

"You're a fertility goddess just as much as a goddess of war. The elders are requesting your presence at both camps."

"Camps?"

"You're to spend one day on Hydra. One day at the mainland Temple. Two days with me. And, of course, the wedding day itself."

Two days with you? I throw a hand up and turn back towards Jane's house. "You know what, nevermind. I don't want to talk about this until I eat."

Jane eyes me with contempt as I pull another pot out of her fridge and place it in the oven to reheat. "Yes," she says, "please, help yourself to my food. Make yourself at home. Take a dump on my doormat while you're at it."

"I'm not stealing anything." I sit at the kitchen table with a plate of pineapple slices and a bowl of what I assume is potato salad. I don't even like potato salad, but my spoon sinks in deep anyway. "These were my offerings."

Jane sits next to me and spoons out a glob of the potato salad. "Ugh. Who made this? They should be exiled."

I shove another bite in my mouth and swallow it whole. "It's not that bad."

"You only say that because you're starving." She leans back in the chair, suddenly seeming amused. "I hear you're throwing a tantrum over the wedding."

"I am not throwing a tantrum." I shovel in more spoonfuls, but I've started to notice Jane was right about the quality. The more I eat, the more apparent it becomes that this person used way too much mayo. "I just don't see why Ben and I need to spend two days on a stupid scavenger hunt. It's a waste of time."

"Aw, come on," she nags, elbowing me in the ribs. "That's supposed to be the most fun part of the wedding. All the young couples look forward to tromping around the island with their intended. It's a bonding experience."

"I don't want a bonding experience." I leave some in the bowl, throw in some pineapples, and place it on the floor for Pumba, who smacks it up happily. "I want all of this to be over with."

"Well, aren't you fun."

When the oven timer beeps, I try my luck with what looks like curried cauliflower. It smells good, at least. I take a moment to write in my journal after every bite. I cannot keep track of the discrepancies from the actual show, so I'll need to log them. I start with a list of relationships. Jack still likes Kate. Juliet is not seeing Goodwin.

I glance up at Jane. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"Aw, gross," she says. "Get the thought out of your head right now because you are definitely not my type."

"Yeah," I reply, frowning, "you're not my type either. I didn't mean me."

"I don't see how it's any of your business."

I scribble Jane = Stick Up Ass and read over my to-do list again. "Do you know who poisoned me? I heard they were arrested."

"It was Dolores."

Dolores? There's a viking named Dolores? Oh man, I wonder if there's a William. Bob the viking. Ha ha ha, that would be hilarious. Wait, focus. "How do you know it was her?"

"She very happily confessed."

I don't even remember meeting a Dolores. Why does she want to kill me? "What's going to happen to her?"

"She's holed up in a jail cell somewhere. Honestly, I'm shocked she hasn't been offed yet."

Offed? As in beheaded? Is that what's going to happen to her? Does she get a trial? "Does anyone know why she did it?"

"She's not talking, but I have a good theory." Jane starts cleaning her nails and ignores me. I clear my throat and she looks up in mock surprise. "What?"

"What's your theory?"

"I mean, it's pretty straight forward," she says and returns her attention back to her fingernails. "It's probably because you killed her parents."

I look up at the trees and wonder why I can't hear any birds. The branches are usually filled with endless chatter from a variety of them, both large and small. But from where I'm sitting in the grass, just outside the perimeter of the barracks housing, I don't hear a single voice.

Not that I'm complaining. It's a blessing to lean up against a tree and be lulled into a peaceful daze by nothing more than the soft rush of leaves caught in a breeze.

Jane's "theory" has left my brain uncomfortably scrambled for the time being. I didn't even ask her for more clarification before walking out here and getting comfortable so I can spend some time alone. I flip my notebook to a new page and start outlining Fenrir's head as he and Pumba run around in the grass.

Drawing has always brought me joy, but I realized long ago that it was never going to be a viable income. I sketch in my free time and doodle in the margins of my lecture notes—depending on how boring the class is—but I've never taken art as seriously as an art student would. I don't read art books. I don't take art classes. I don't sell my art. It's simply a hobby that I'm decently good at.

I fill two entire pages with dozens of sketches of Fenrir and Pumba and the pretty patch of flowers a few yards away before I realize this isn't as therapeutic as it normally is. Filling my lungs up with crisp island air, I heave a sigh and make the walk back to the houses.

I'm halfway there when I pick up the faint shouts of an angry man. I follow the sound of his voice and stumble upon a crowd gathered around the cafeteria. Jin stands partially surrounded by people trying to convince him to give them back the handgun he's waving around with no real target in mind. He's beyond angry as he furiously makes demands in Korean.

How'd he get a gun? Who'd he steal it from? Hasn't anyone tried to explain to him that Sun is okay? How many days has it been since I asked them to bring Sun back? I think about how upset and scared he must be after strange people he can't understand up and stole his wife away from him and now hold him hostage in a strange facility on an unknown island. I add reunite Jin and Sun ASAP to my to-do list.

From somewhere in the crowd I hear Liv shout, "My lady?"

I look up from my notebook to find Jin pointing the handgun steadily at me. Don't panic. You can't die, remember? "For crying out loud, Jin." I know he can't understand what I'm saying, but the tired sarcasm comes out anyway. "What are you gonna do? Shoot me?"

Two bullets discharge his gun with thundering cracks.