I.
A couple hours after dawn, Sawyer heard footsteps behind him. "If you're going to blame me for what happened, Kate, you can just go back to your precious Doctor Jack," he said bitterly. "Nobody needs a recap of last night."
"I'll say," Jack said from behind him, and Sawyer jumped. Jack smiled and sat down in front of Sawyer. "Sorry to disappoint you. I know I'm not as pretty as Kate."
"What do you want? Do you want to tell me what I did wrong? What I could have done to save that baby?"
"Actually," Jack said, "I noticed that Kate appeared to break your nose last night. It needs to be broken back."
"I suppose you'll get a whole lot of chuckles out of that," Sawyer said.
"Yeah, some," Jack admitted. "You ready?"
"Yeah."
Jack broke Sawyer's nose back and Sawyer yelled out. "Goddamn! That motherfucker hurts!"
"Yeah," Jack said. "I get some pleasure out of that too." He stood up and started to head the other way.
"Say hi to all the other folks for me," Sawyer said, lighting up a cigarette. "Tell them we should get together for some good shindigs more often."
Jack stopped and sighed. "There was nothing else you could have done," he said. "There was probably nothing I could have done. The baby needed help that only a skilled gynecologist could have given him. You did what you had to do. You got Claire through it. She survived because you were there. She might not have if you weren't. There was nothing else you could have done." He paused, quiet, and then said, "Anyway. That's why I came down here."
Sawyer closed his eyes. He remembered the baby coming out already dead. He remembered trying to get the little boy to breathe again. He remembered wondering what that little boy's name would have been if he had survived.
He believed Jack and was thankful there was nothing he could have done. He wondered if he should thank Jack for telling him.
By the time he decided, Jack was gone.
II.
"That baby died, huh?"
Michael looked at his son. After washing off the blood and changing into some other clothes, Michael had begun to feel a bit better. Until his son brought up the subject everyone was studiously trying to not talk about. "Yeah," he said. "The baby died."
"Is the Australian lady going to be okay?"
Michael shrugged helplessly. What do you say to a question like that? What would his life been like if Walt hadn't been born? Michael hadn't been a big part of his son's life, he knew that, but he remembered the day his son was born as if it was yesterday. The birth had been relatively easy, an uncomplicated delivery. Walt had been born healthy and fine. But what if he hadn't been? How devastated would Michael have been?
He couldn't imagine.
"I hope so, Walt. I hope so."
Michael saw Sun nearby, fetching some fresh water. His eyes caught hers and held them for a minute. Then her eyes lowered and flickered back to her husband.
"Are you okay?" Walt asked.
Michael looked back at his boy again. What would he have done if Walt had been the one to die last night? If the creature somehow had gotten him instead of the Scott-Steve guy. How would he have survived?
"Everybody needs someone," Michael murmured.
"Huh?"
"Nothing, man. Just nevermind."
III.
She was sitting with her back facing the caves, her hands smoothing over the dirt that buried her newborn son. Charlie stepped up behind her, thought quickly about dashing away, and then sat down next to her.
He didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound stupid so he just went for it. "How you holding up, love?"
Claire laughed. "I don't know."
The two were silent.
For once, Charlie didn't break the silence.
"I knew it was going to be a boy," Claire said. "Well, I didn't know, but I was pretty sure. I had this feeling. I had a name picked out, if it was a girl, but I hadn't decided if it was a boy yet. I was either going to name him after my father, Jonathon, or maybe Luke after Luke Skywalker. I thought that a not-so-serious name might give him a sense of humor to deal with whatever happened in his life. If someone could say, 'I was named after Star Wars', they could probably laugh at anything. You know?"
"Yeah."
"I wanted him to be happy. I wanted him to. . .see all these things. To go all these places. Or even if we were stuck on this island for the rest of our lives, I wanted him to grow up. To live. To talk to people. I would have liked him to meet you, Charlie. I think you two would have gotten on with each other."
Charlie wiped his eyes. "I think we would have too."
"Yeah," Claire said. She stood up and Charlie looked up at her.
"Claire," he began but she cut him off.
"I'm not ready yet, Charlie," she said. "I'm not ready for this right now. I just need to be alone for a little while."
"All right," Charlie said.
"But Charlie?"
"Yeah?"
Claire closed her eyes. "Do you think it's a dumb thing to remember he would have been a Sagittarius?"
Charlie shook his head. "No, Claire. I don't think so."
Claire nodded. "I don't think so, either. Sagittarius people are outgoing, social, adventurous. They're always optimistic. He would have enjoyed his life, Charlie. He would have."
"I know it."
Claire bowed her head and left. Charlie sat where he was, next to the grave. He thought of Claire's horoscopes and Locke's faith. He thought of Jack and Kate and how they were there for each other. He thought of his heroin, burned away.
"Everybody needs someone," he said to himself. "Everybody needs something."
He looked up to the sky and said the first words to God he had said in a long, long time.
"Give us something. Just something."
-fin