DISLAIMER: None of the characters on Lost are owned by me, bur by ABC. Darn! :-)

My second fan fic. Yay! Please review. I have no idea how many chapters this will end up being.

CAPTIVITY

by Patrick Null

Claire remembered the trek through the woods, stumbling, half-running, falling. She remembered Charley stopping to help her up, and then being pushed himself, and landing face-first into the dirt. Breathless, scared, she was picked up, and they were prodded like steer by hands that seemed non-human.

They ran for what seemed like hours, and just when she thought the worst was over, that they would both survive this day, they stopped and hung Charley from a tree. She screamed, and tried to go to him, but they stopped her and pushed her forward. Always forward, never stopping, and she ran, thinking of the other survivors and what they might think, thinking of her baby, of Charley.

Charley, who was now dead, and casually flung onto a tree like a piece of laundry. He had been an inconvenience and executed. The thought brought tears to her eyes, and she wiped them away with gritty hands, which, of course, made them burn.

Half-blinded, she ran until she had no energy left to give, and she pleaded with them to stop, but they only grunted and hurried their pace. Their claws dug into her arms, and it was at that moment between exhaustion and death, that she fell. She never reached the ground. Instead, she was picked up, and flung over a pair of broad shoulders with surprising gentleness. The ground jounced beneath them, her vision wavered, and the last image she saw before she blacked out was Charlie's pleading eyes as he died.

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She came to slowly. First, she saw colors, then shapes, then textures within those shapes. She was in a well-lighted room. She was lying on a bed, and she tried to move, but something held her down.

"Do not bother with the restraints," a voice said to her left. "They are secured, I assure you."

She turned and saw a handsome man, with long brown hair extending past his shoulders, piercing blue eyes, and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. His clothes were odd, and Claire thought they looked like something out of a Robin Hood movie. A sword was strapped at his side, but, yet, it wasn't a sword. It had a hilt, but a claw looking thing protruded from the sword's tip. Jewels were embedded into the hilt--orange, green, red, blue.

She looked up. "Where am I?"

"Safe."

"Who are you?"

Instead of answering, he walked away, hands clasped behind his back. "You have had a long journey, Claire. Do you not wish to sleep?"

"What I wish is to go back home."

He turned, smiled. "You mean home home, or back to the other survivors?"

"You know what I mean."

"I am sorry, but your wish cannot be granted."

"You killed Charley."

"Yes."

"W-why?" Damn it, she was trembling, on the verge of tears. She hadn't wanted to show these monsters any weakness.

"Because we did not have any use for him."

"And you think I will be useful?"

"Oh, yes." He looked at her stomach and back up to meet her eyes. "You will have more use than you know; we wouldn't have brought you here otherwise."

She looked down, and realization dawned. She snapped her head back up. "Wh-what...are you going to do with my boy?"

"Do not worry. No harm will come to your child."

"Who are you people?"

"We are its protectors."

"Protectors? What are you talking about? Let me out of here!"

He looked to the side, and right on cue, two women appeared, holding her down. Their touch was cold, clammy.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"You are getting over-excited, Claire. That is not good if you want to deliver a healthy baby."

"Oh, God..."

A nurse pulled from her pocket what looked like a fibrillator pad, and she touched Claire's arm with it. Darkness descended.

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It's been a week since I was captured. Time down here is meaningless for there are no clocks, but I know it has been a week because I have seven pages written in my journal. I write a page every day to keep track of the days. The monsters gave it to me. I would like to refer to them as murderers, but that only conjures up images of Charley, and I cannot think of him if I want to remain sane. And I must stay sane if I wish to escape. And I will, of that I have no doubt.

They gave the journal to me to probably occupy me until the birth. What happens after that, I don't know, for they haven't told me. I'm afraid to ask. The answer scares me. It is far more safer in my imagined truth than any actual reality. Honesty can sometimes kill.

What do I do besides write? Walk, mostly. What else can I do? There is nothing for me to do here. Yes, they let me walk freely. They don't trust me, or anyone for that matter, but where else can I go? They're right. On my many travels, I have yet to find a way out. So much for my great escape plan.

I want to laugh at this whole ridiculous situation. Instead, I find myself crying at night. I can't help it.

But I will find a way back to the others.

I will.

I must.

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Claire closed her journal and locked it. She left it lying on the bed and stood, stretching. She had no worries about anyone finding it and reading what she wrote because it could only be opened with her fingerprint. She thought that was pretty nifty.

She walked to the door, it slid open, and then she was out in the hall. It was a labyrinth down here, its many similar halls and rooms creating a veritable maze that could squash any prisoner's hopes of freedom, for they would wallow in despair before they ever reached the end, wherever the end was.

There has to be an end, though. How do they get to the surface and back? She walked left, and when she got to the end, instead of turning right like she always does, she chose left. Her footsteps sounded like cannonballs in the empty halls, and any occasional person she passed, walked by silently, bowing, as if she was some revered goddess. She was used to that treatment by now, even though she didn't understand their motivations.

She reached the end and turned right. She never felt so alone when traveling these halls. Except for her regular appointments to see how the baby was doing, she didn't talk to anyone except the nurses, if "Your baby is doing well" constituted talking.

Where was the stranger who was there when she first woke up in this place? Claire didn't know his name, but she remembered him. How could she forget? His was the first and only extensive conversation she has had down here.

Another right. Then left, then right, then right again, then left. Where was she going? Could she find her way back? Who cares? One time, she did get lost, and someone found her, and led her back. Ever since then, she has been unafraid.

Then, she saw them, two guards standing at the end of the hallway, watching her. She approached. "Hi, guys."

They didn't respond, but, instead, averted their eyes.

"What are you guarding?"

Again, no response.

"It must be something pretty important, huh?"

One of them finally turned to meet her eyes. "Please leave. You are not allowed to be here."

She pointed to the spot at her feet. "I'm allowed to be here, right?" Then, she pointed behind them. "I'm just not allowed to be there, correct?"

He narrowed his eyes. "You know what I mean."

She shrugged and leaned against the wall, sliding to the ground. "Maybe I do, and maybe I don't. All I know is that I have traveled a long way, and my feet are tired. So, I'll just rest here, if you don't mind."

"Please, mother, make haste--"

"What?!" She struggled to stand, but the baby's weight made it difficult. He helped her up, and she shrugged him off. "What did you call me? I am not your mother, nor would I ever chose to mother such despicable monsters as yourselves, so take it back! Take it back, damn you! Take it back!!"

"That is enough, Claire," a voice said behind her. She turned. The man she had met on her first night with the long brown hair was striding toward her, his face grim. '"Mother' is a term we all refer to you by."

"It's you."

He smiled. "It is me."

"Why are they calling me 'Mother?'"

He nodded in the direction he had come. "Let us walk away from here, Claire, and I will tell you all you need to know."

"No. I am perfectly comfortable h--"

His arm snaked out and gripped her arm hard. His touch was cold and burning at the same time, like a piece of metal forged in fire and then dowsed in water. Her arm grew numb, and she cried out.

"Do not test me, Claire," he hissed. "I have given strict orders to my people not to harm you. That does not apply to me however." He let go. "Now, shall we?"

She swallowed, nodded, and then followed him down the hallway. After a few moments, he spoke. "So, ask, Mother."

"Ask what?"

"Your questions. You have many."

"What's your name?"

"Casir. That was an easy one."

She looked down at the weapon by his side, and noticed that the jewels she saw before weren't jewels--they were buttons. "What's that used for?"

He looked sideways at her, an amused look on his face. "Come now, Mother--"

"Stop calling me that!"

"--those are not the questions you want to ask, are they?"

"I'm curious."

He faced front. "Fine, then I will answer. There is a beast that lives in the woods--a monstrous beast that lumbers through the forest without any apparent purpose. Where it comes from, we do not know. All we know is that it does not bother us, and we do not bother it…for the most part."

"That weapon is used to stop it, isn't it?"

He smiled. "Yes. Very good, Mother."

"I said, stop calling--"

"I am going to continue calling you Mother, so YOU BETTER START FUCKING GETTING USED TO IT!!!"

She stopped, startled, and he grinned. "My apologies, Mother. I just do not like being interrupted. Besides, you should thank us. You owe us your lives. If not for us, you would all be dead."

"What are you talking about?"

He continued walking and she followed. "That first night on the beach, after the plane crash. Do you not remember?"

No, actually, she couldn't. Her memory was hazy. She couldn't even remember the color of Charlie's eyes.

"It was in the woods, and it was coming for your group. They saw it, or thought they did. The beast was knocking the tress back and forth, and I know they saw that. Oh, it was so close, but we stopped it. A push of a button, a claw that can zing through the air by a cable and attach itself to a body with varying degrees of electrical current can stop anything…even a monster as huge as that."

"My God--"

"Yes, the power of the gods in our hands. See, we couldn't let it destroy your friends, because we saw you, Mother. You were our hope. Our salvation."

"Your salvation?"

"And now we get to the heart of the matter, the reason why you are here. We call you Mother because you will mother your child."

"That's not the only reason."

He smiled. "Indeed. Very perceptive. This island is mysterious and powerful, but it also has made our women unfertile. They cannot conceive, nor will they ever be able to. Then, we saw you, a woman who was with child, who was completely unaffected by this island for reasons we cannot fathom. But we cannot deny the evidence. If you had been affected, you would have lost the baby. In fact, you felt him stop moving one day, did you not?"

She nodded, too numb to speak, and he continued. "But your baby is fine. We ran all the appropriate tests. See, Mother, our colony is dying because women cannot give birth. But, through you, Claire, we will build our civilization up again. You will be the mother of us all!"

She stopped, suddenly breathless. "Oh, God, this...this can't be happening--"

He walked away, his face impassive. "It is what you wanted to hear, Mother, was it not? The truth? Did you not wish to hear it?"

"N-no..." Her voice came out in a whisper, and the truth, the ugly truth, imposed itself upon her, slowing her steps, making her sink to her knees. She had no idea how long she knelt there, sobbing, but when she looked up, Casir was gone.

-----------------

Day 8

Left. Left. Right. Right. Left. Left. Right. Left.

I wrote these directions down so I wouldn't forget them. I need to find a way back to those guards, for I finally have a plan. I have an idea what lies behind those guards. Getting past them will be trickier. I need to practice those directions so I don't get lost. I'm the mouse in the mousetrap here, the outsider. I need to know exactly where I'm going when I implement my plan. I'm going to go practice now.

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No! Those directions are wrong! Where did I mess up? Where? I need to find out before my baby comes. I hope he's not too eager, because once he comes, there will be no escape. I'm sure of that.

--------------------

Ok. It's left, left, right, right, left, right, right, left. Those are the right directions. Good. I need to practice. Also, if I can remember where the examination room is...

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Questions. Always questions. Apparently, I have made too many trips to where the guards are, and they want to know why. I told them that I'm lonely, and Ralph and Tommy(my names for them) are the only two people I have seen on my walks, except for the occasional passer-by, who won't even look at me. They seemed to believe me, but, nevertheless, I must hurry.

This will probably be my last journal entry.

Thank God.

----------------

Claire ran down the hallway, following her directions exactly. She had walked this route many times, so she had no fear of getting lost. The weight on her stomach was like an elephant, but, still, she hurried. She had to. If someone looked in the examination room before she got to the guards, then all was lost.

She reached the last corner, steeled herself, and walked around smiling, holding her stolen objects behind her back.

"Mother?" Ralph said. "It's good to see you."

"You seem out of breath, Mother," Tommy said.

"I...I "

"Mother, you know that running is not good for the baby," Ralph said. "Why would you do that? I must report this." He pushed a button on the wall.

"No!" Claire screamed, and touched a fibrillator pad to each of their arms. They immediately slumped, just like the nurses in the examination room had.

She moved past them and hurried down the tunnel. It made several twists and turns, but there were no branches leading off the path, thank God. She finally came to a shiny, metal ladder. At the top, several feet up, was a hatch.

She cried in relief and started climbing. When she was halfway up, she stopped. She could see a tiny window in the hatch, but it was dirty. Still, the figures standing outside were unmistakable. A distorted Locke and Boone stood there, arms crossed, looking down, looking at her.

"Locke!" she cried. "Boone! Help!"

They didn't respond, and she started climbing. That's when she saw it--a handle. A way out! She reached for it, her fingers brushed hope, and then she was yanked backward into strong arms. The exit seemed a million miles away, and might as well have been on the other side of the world, for all the good it did her.

Casir stood there, arms folded. "That was a very stupid thing for you to do, Claire."

She didn't respond, looked away.

"Bring her with you and follow me," he said, and then turned on his heel and walked away.

She was carried after Casir. She wasn't allowed to walk, but was carried, like an infant.

"'Cause I've been a very baaaaadddddd girl," she said and giggled. Was she losing her mind?

"I suppose you're wondering where I'm taking you," Casir said.

"Not really. Who gives a damn? I'm through caring."

He smirked. "I'm taking you to see what we are protecting."

"I assumed you meant the island itself."

"Incorrect."

She thought. "My baby? You're my baby's protector?"

"Incorrect again. I mean, we will protect your child, that is true, but what we really protect is a secret so great that it could change the face of your world."

Her head was reeling, and, as a result, she lost her sense of direction as they made a turn here, a turn there. Some minutes later, they finally stopped. She was in a new area now. Before them were two double doors.

"Set her down," Casir said.

They did and the doors opened.

"Step inside."

She did, and the doors closed. It was an elevator, and they rode down, down, down, such a long way down that her ears popped. It finally bumped to a stop, and the doors slid open.

What she saw made her gasp. "It's...it's..."

"...extraordinary, isn't it?" His breath was a fetid hiss against her neck, and she shivered, despite it being very warm down here.

Looking at it, she knew he was right. It was extraordinary, and, if not for Casir's arm on her shoulder, she would have fallen.