Author's Note:
Hello, my precious readers! I want to let you read this chapter really bad, because I think this one is really good, but first, I must thank my reviewers.
Esmarelda Gamgee
CharlieLOVER
orange-tide
I know I usually wait for five reviews, and I was going to get mad that not many people are reviewing, but then my sister went on and looked for chapter four, and she said it wasn't appearing correctly. I am confused, so I am just going to post this chapter and see what happens. Congratulations those of you who found chapter four! Read on and enjoy.
Fires
Chapter Five: Vous Etes Mort
Charlie stumbled into camp, cold and exhausted. He wanted to find his bed, and got to sleep. He walked farther into the caves, and noticed that Sawyer was there.
"Where've you been, Fire-starter?" Sawyer asked, tapping the book he had been reading against his palm.
"Piss off," was all Charlie could muster.
"Ooh, temper, temper." Sawyer went back to his book.
-
For all Charlie's efforts, he couldn't fall asleep. He tossed and turned, closing his eyes and counting sheep in his head, but nothing worked. He lay on his back and stared upward. He couldn't see the roof of the cave because it was so dark. Maybe that was why he couldn't sleep. It was too dark – too quiet.
Suddenly, he heard something moving around. He sat up and squinted in the darkness. He couldn't see a thing. He pulled himself out of bed and moved silently toward the noise, which, he discovered, was coming from near Hurley's bed.
Charlie could make out a small clicking sound, and an occasional spark from where he suspected the figure's hand was. Suddenly, a flame appeared, illuminating the side of the culprit's face. Charlie stared in awe – Jack?
Sinking lower to the ground, Charlie watched what Jack did carefully. He couldn't have set those fires. He was probably just – just… Charlie became frustrated when he couldn't think of any possible excuse.
Jack grabbed Hurley's bag and began looking through it, obviously searching for something. "Damn," he mumbled after a moment, throwing the bag aside. Charlie cocked his head. That voice hadn't sounded like Jack...
He crept forward as the doctor reached for another, smaller bag and began searching it as well. A small smile appeared on Jack's face as he pulled out a folded piece of paper and shoved it in his pocket, closing Hurley's bag silently. He stood up and crept away, into the darkness.
Charlie looked over toward Jack's bed, and realized something slightly disturbing. Jack was still sleeping soundly. Determined to figure out what was going on, Charlie scurried over to Jack's bed and shook his shoulder, trying to wake him up.
"Morphine's in the third drawer…" he mumbled rolling onto his side and continuing to sleep. Charlie rolled his eyes. He probably should have gone to Locke, anyway. He stood up and walked over to where Locke was sitting in the doorway of the caves,meditating or something creepylike that.
"Hey, Charlie," he said, before Charlie had even announced his presence.
"Hi, Locke. You didn't happen to see anyone come in or go out of here, did you?"
Locke looked over at him. "No, I didn't see anything."
"But there was someone over by Hurley's stuff. I though it was Jack, but then he ran off and I saw that Jack was still asleep."
"I would've seen whoever it was, Charlie. Maybe you imagined it."
"I didn't imagine it. He had a lighter, Locke. He took something from Hurley's bag." When Locke didn't respond, Charlie marched angrily back to his bed, and resumed his 'staying awake'.
-
It was dark – probably around eleven o'clock or something. The day had gone by slowly forCharlie, whosat on the ground, not wanting to go to bed. He doubted he wouldbe able to sleep through the pain he was feeling. His hands were hot and sweaty, and every once in a while his stomach would tense up or something, and he felt like he was going to throw up. He knew it was from the withdrawal. Everything around him was swirly, and he couldn't make out any definite shapes, though he could tell someone was approaching.
"Are you okay, Charlie?" Jack knelt down beside him. Charlie felt the hair being pushed away from his forehead and a cool hand pressing against it. "You've got a fever."
Charlie nodded, though he immediately regretted it. The throbbing in his head subsided after a moment, but the increased sickness in his stomach did not. He could feel vomit coming up his throat before it spilled out of his mouth.
-
Jack sat and rubbed his tired face. Charlie was asleep, for now at least. He had thrown up more than once, and had succeeded in keeping Jack awake for the past three hours. He wanted nothing more than to just sleep.
Resting his head in his hands, Jack closed his eyes. He was about to lose consciousness, but was reawakened by a small, female voice. Intrigued, he lifted his head and walked toward it. Someone was wandering around the camp singing a song in a foreign language.
"Tout toujours, silencieux, calme
Vous etes tous qui dorment par mes pieds.
Mais je lache la flamme de ma paume
Vous etes engloutis dams le feu et la chaleur.
Vos cris percants sont ecartes par ma joie
Comme vos corps agitent et brulent.
Vous etes tous mort, aucune maniere de se sauver
Vos deces sont mon prix a gagner."
Jack listened carefully. It sounded like French. If only Shannon were here to translate, he thought, before he came to the realization that it was Shannon who was singing.
-
Okay, I know that was kind of short, but good, no? Hehehe. Remember to review. This time, I will refuse to write any more chapters EVER, if I can't even get five reviews! If you really like this story, I suggest you review it anonymously as well as with a signed review (jk). Thank you for reading. Chapter Six will be up soon (hopefully)!
This is going to sound strange, but I'm curious. If you bothered to read this author's note, include the word 'moose' in your next review. Thank you!
- Setszuki
In the next chapter of 'Fires':
He froze, feeling as though all time had stopped, and he desperately wished that it wouldn't start again. On the ground to his right, was a trail of bloody footprints.