The Message In the Bottle
Chapter Two
Disclaimer: Okay, at the end of the chapter you're going to learn that past connection between Locke and Boone. Let me note that this is my own original plot, thought up when the meds spoiler came out. Turns out, it is Boone on the meds, but they're supposingly dropping that plot line. I'm keeping Boone's last name Rutherford, because I've already addressed it in past stories, and I don't want to confuse myself. The ending of this chapter is intended to creep my reviewers out, not in haunted, scary creepy, but more like the creepy where you have to stop and think 'oh my god'. In a way like the ending of the real episode of "Hearts and Minds". Or close to it. Let me know if it worked on you! Enjoy!
"Anyone else feel like we're going in circles?" Charlie sighed.
He had been walking around the jungle with Boone and Locke for over a day now. Or at least, he thought he had been walking around the jungle with Locke and Boone for over a day, because with the way the two acted, it sometimes seemed as though the two had slipped away, only to return conveniently every time Charlie asked either one of them if they had any food. And he wouldn't of been a bit surprised if that had been the situation.
"Guys?" He asked again, stopping as the wind begin to pick up.
Something rattled in the bushes, catching Charlie's attention. Whipping around, Charlie looked around, and sure enough, he was alone.
"Locke?" He asked to the trees. "That you?"
More rustling.
"Boone?"
The wind picked up in a lively pace as storm clouds began to rumble distantly. Charlie continued spinning, trying to figure out who his potential attacker was, and he had just caught the glimpse of a man's shadow before darkness over took him.
-
"Did I find her, or did I find her?"
Jack had finally gotten a day off for the first time in a week in a half. He could've actually worked that day, it was an option thing, but Mark had forced him to take a 'mental health day'. Jack argued that those were for women, and Mark argued that it didn't matter, there weren't enough mental health days in the world that could cure his state. So now, nearly a month after his father had walked out on him, and now he had just sat through the worst attempt of a comedy he had ever seen, and had one of the sandwiches as well.
"You found her," Jack admitted, thanking the vendor for the coffee as he took it.
The two walked out of the plaza, and onto the busy streets. Mark had driven them a few hours from LA, to one of the less busier towns in California, a beach side type place. Jack had told him he felt more like it was a date then a friend thing, and Mark had replied to sock it, he had found the love of his life, which was true, despite the annoying impact the two together had on him.
"I can't believe the weddings only in a few weeks," Mark expressed as he threw peanut shells down into the cracks of the concrete, popping each peanut into his mouth with practiced ease, "you know, you're gong to miss me."
"Sure," Jack shrugged, not pressing the conversation.
Sighing, Mark looked out into the traffic that was building up on the street beside them. Jack just sipped his coffee, believing that the fact that it was eighty degrees outside and the taste warmed him like he was in an igloo every time prove nothing against his sanity. Mark watched thoughtfully as Jack took a large sip from his coffee, an amount that any normal person would've of been able to stand.
"What?" Jack asked, catching the stare.
Mark shook his head, placing his hand on Jack's shoulder.
"We have got to get yourself a girlfriend," Mark addressed.
Jack snorted, almost choking on his coffee.
"When?" Jack said. "I have a job, Mark."
"So does nearly everyone else in the world!" Mark exclaimed.
Just as he said it, the two walked past a homeless man holding out a ten for cash. Backtracking, Jack threw fifty cents in.
"Thanks," muttered the man, his breath thick of a horrible stink.
"That guy didn't," Jack pointed out.
"You're not that guy," Mark said, "and face it, everyone falls in love. When was the last time you even went out on a date?"
Jack stopped, staring towards the overcast sky, thinking about it.
"Tenth grade," he said finally, "the winter formal when you snuck me out of the house to take Terry Overstreet to homecoming. Turns out, Terry Overstreet is a freshman with glasses and acne."
"But she was nice!" Mark protested. "And you had a great time, remember? But now, you're the only guy in the city who hasn't been on a date since he was sixteen. Face it Jack, you're alone. Alone in the world. No one to live with, no one to die with."
"And it's very depressing," Jack said sarcastically, "I'm fine. I like- being alone."
He stopped, thinking about. Did he really? How much did he like being alone? Did he really like coming home to an empty, shabby apartment, knowing he could afford twice as better but didn't take the offer, thinking it was useless? Did he really like spending every holiday watching the parades solemnly on tv, waiting for the call from his mother, pleading for forgiveness and begging him to come down after whatever fight they had, just so she wouldn't look bad in front of her family? Did he really like spending every type of celebration alone, remembering his birthday only after someone on the ward reminded him a few days later? Sure, he had his one good friend, but what would happen when he moved on? When Jack was left with nothing but himself, and his shabby apartment. What would he do, try to make himself by buying a better one and call it a day?
"Sure, sure," Mark said, seeing right through him, "but face it-"
He looked at Jack more serious than he ever had before, and it was beginning to scare Jack just a little bit.
"You're depressed," Mark finished in a breath.
"What?" Jack said, in disbelief.
"Ever since that incident with your dad, you've done nothing but work," Mark began, "you don't go out, and your co-workers are worried about you."
"Co-workers?" Jack repeated, amused.
"They say you come in every morning, half-dead," Mark explained, "you never take breaks, you never want off."
Sitting his hands on Jack's shoulders, Mark shook him hard, as if trying to knock some sense into him.
"You are depressed," he said, stating each word separately.
Jack broke away from the grip, shoving his friend back.
"I'm fine!" Jack argued. "You're just being- over dramatic."
A group of college seniors with blonde hair wearing halters and blue jeans, with long purses slung over their shoulders eyed the two as they past, rolling their eyes. Jack suddenly began to get the feeling of breaking up in a sappy soap opra.
"Over dramatic?" Mark said, eyebrow raised. "You can't even act like a normal depressed person. No- you don't go to bars, or take refuge in small diners. Hell, you can't even say that your best friend floats in the bottom of a glass, because, my friend-"
He grabbed Jack's coffee cup, showing his point.
"Your best friend floats in the bottom of a coffee mug," Mark continued, and threw the cup into a trash bin nearby.
"Hey!" Jack exclaimed. "I wasn't finished with-"
"I'm finding you a girlfriend," Mark said, gaining seriousness, "if it's the last thing I do. I'm not going to let you do this to yourself."
"Do what to myself?" Jack said, confused.
"Become your father."
"He did it! He knows he did!"
Jack's eyes opened, feeling heavy against the lids, and his head bobbed forward a few times before fire flickered in front of his eyes, and he realized it was night, and he was down by the beach. A half a dozen people were with him, including Kate, Michael, Hurley, and Sawyer and Sayid, who had engaged themselves in yet another fight of accusations.
No one seemed to have noticed when Jack woke up, but then again, he guessed they never even knew he had been asleep. He was sitting on a log of some sort, and had had his head propped by his palms. Across from him, Michael looked like he had just won the lottery only to realize it was a hoax. Kate was standing behind Sawyer a few feet away from the fire in front of them, as if ready to pull back Sawyer at any given moment, and Shannon was behind Sayid, though in a more defensive position.
"Sayid hasn't even been to the beach all day!" Shannon argued.
"And I'm glad he has his girlfriend to fight his battles!" Sawyer shouted, fighting against Kate's grip.
"And where would I have gotten a lighter?" Sayid proclaimed. "You've been hoarding them around since we crashed!"
"Well you'd be happy to know I'm fresh out!" Sawyer said, adding a growl. "And I'm sure you learned all the tricks and skills back in training!"
At the war comment, Sayid lashed out, throwing himself at Sawyer, who broke free of Kate's grip. The two fought, falling to the ground, and Kate and Hurley rushed to separate the two.
"Hey, hey, dudes!" Hurley shouted, holding Sayid back. "We're not going to solve anything this way!"
"He's right," Sayid pointed out, though he looked ready to kill himself, "let's look at it this way, who has proof that they weren't at the beach today?"
"Well, we were looking over the French notes," Shannon said immediately.
"Can anyone confirm that?" Michael asked in a lawyer's tone.
"I saw them," Kate lied.
Michael nodded. Kate hadn't really seen them, but it was obvious that none of them had started the fire, but as long as the others didn't believe it, they might as well get the ordeal over with quickly. Sayid then turn to Jack, sure enough not showing any knowledge of knowing Jack had been asleep the entire time.
"What about you?" He asked, though he sincerely didn't think Jack did it.
"I was.." Jack thought about it, trying to remember, "sleeping."
"All right," Sayid turned to Kate-
"Wait!" Sawyer cut in. "You're telling me you ain't askin' him for any witnesses?"
"Sawyer!" Kate exclaimed, groaning.
"Fine, whatever," Sawyer muttered.
"Just stop," Michael said, shaking his head, "if we keep doing this, it'll take all night."
He looked up at Sawyer.
"Can you prove you haven't been down here?" Michael said. "Because last I heard, you made permenate camp in that hideaway of yours."
Sawyer looked down, thinking about it, before looking back up at Michael. He smiled a little, knowing he was about to prove them right.
"Yeah," Sawyer said, "yeah, I can show you proof. All that you want."
He led Kate, Jack, and Sayid to what used to be his dwelling, leaving Hurley and Michael to question some of the others in the mean time. When they arrived at the site, the other three stop short in site of what they saw.
"What did I tell you?" Sawyer said to no one in particular.
The dwelling now looked like a child's messy room, with clothes in items thrown about in no organized manner. Sawyer's book still laid in the sand ripped, but the letter had clearly been removed from it. Jack, Sayid, and Kate took in the site in awe, and Jack was the first to speak.
"These look like animal marks," he observed.
"Thank you, Doctor Dolittle," Sawyer said forcefully.
Kate stared at the site for a few more seconds before she decided she couldn't take it anymore.
"Let's go back," she said finally, "and tell Michael he didn't do it."
Jack and Sayid nodded, and turned to head back with her.
"He didn't do it," Kate confirmed to Michael as they approached him by the fire.
Hurley was nowhere to be seen, and Michael had been found gazing into the fire. Breaking away from his thoughts, he looked back up at the group.
"You sure?" Michael said.
"We're sure," Sayid said, sitting down next to Shannon, who had remained by the fire the entire time.
"Now what're we going to do?" Shannon groaned, giving into the known frustration in the air.
Not answering her question but adding to the mystery of the night, the group turned at the sound of Charlie stumbling out of the jungle. Sayid and Kate ran to help him, and set him down by the fire. Charlie's face was pale, and he was clutching the back of his head with his right hand, which was covered with blood. He moved the hand away, letting Jack look at the wound.
"What happened?" Jack questioned.
"I dunno," Charlie mumbled, "I was just walking in the jungle when this knife came down over my head."
"Did you see who it was?" Jack asked.
"Didn't see a thing," Charlie answered, "surprised I made it back."
"Kate, hand me my bottle of water over there," Jack said, tearing off a piece of fabric from the bottom of his shirt.
It took him a while to notice the other castaways(save Charlie) staring at him.
"What?" He asked, confused.
"Jack," Kate said slowly, "you never brought down any water."
She glanced at the others.
"In fact," she continued, "you haven't had any all day."
Jack stopped, feeling the blood from Charlie's wound leak through the fabric. But instead of making a big deal of it, he just shook it off.
"Just someone get me some water," he said, with a little more force then intended.
Thirty minutes later, Charlie's wound was dressed, and the color in his face was slowly starting to come back. Kate had voluntarily taken the time to explain the situation to Charlie, and the fact that Sawyer(who hadn't returned to the beach with them) couldn't have done it, along with any of them.
"But if Sawyer didn't do it," Charlie began, thinking it through," and none of us did it, then who does that leave?"
The survivors glanced around at each other, and Sayid met eyes with Shannon, and as the two had a mutual agreement, they glanced towards the jungle. Watching them, the others started to understand.
"The only people who weren't around," Michael said in disbelief.
"I don't believe it," Charlie muttered.
"Guys," Kate said, turning back to the center of the circle, "have any of you seen Locke or Boone all day?"
-
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Boone asked Locke for the dozenth time that day. "Because this seems like a really stupid idea to me."
"In order to find out what we need to know, Boone," Locke said, "we need to get to the heart of it."
The two were underground, having snuck into the same place where they had found Jack and Kate, which happened to be the same place where Claire had been taken. They had walked around tunnels all day long, and had found nothing, except for more tunnels.
"Hey, what's that?" Boone said suddenly.
A door on the far end of the tunnel had caught his eye as he had accidentally risen his flashlight too high. Locke glanced to where he was looking, and saw the door too. Cautiously, the two approached the door.
"Should we.. open it?" Boone asked finally, not sure what Locke would say if he did.
Sure they wanted the answers, but it was suicide to go barging into the master of evil's office.
"There's no light," Locke observed, noticing a crack bellow the door, "I think it's safe."
When Locke didn't make any move forward, Boone pushed on the door, letting it open a half a foot.
"Well?" Boone asked after the two just stood there for a few moments.
"You're call," Locke offered.
With that, Boone stepped into the room, but Locke held out a hand, blocking him from going any further.
"But maybe I should go first."
Boone nodded, not really caring.
"But make sure you don't let the door-"
Just as Locke was about to say 'shut', the door slammed, and with one shed of flashlight, they saw that they were trapped.
-
Boone sat against a wall, with Locke across from him. The room had turned out to be nothing more than an empty walk in sized closet. The claustrophobia was driving Boone insane, making him sick, though it didn't seem to bother Locke.
"Go ahead and take them," Locke said finally as Boone began obsessively tapping his fingers against his knees.
"What did you say?" Boone said, looking up at the man.
"The pills," Locke replied, avoiding Boone stare, "I know they're in your pocket. Go ahead. Take them."
Instead of taking the offer, Boone just continued staring at the man, in awe and confusion. How was it that he knew everything? As careful as he had been to hide his secret, as careful as Jack had tried to protect it, as well as Shannon, had someone else known all along?
"But-" Boone began, "how did you- when did you?"
"I know who you are," Locke said, not answering."
"Who I am?"
"I know about the other car."
Boone stopped. He suddenly felt as if all he had eaten in the past week(which was much) was forcing its way up his throat. His head spun, and Boone swallowed, trying to pull himself together.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he tried.
"The other car," Locke continued, "eight years ago a young man of eighteen finally gets his license. He decides to celebrate, and gets drunk with some friends. Drives himself home, and ends up smashing into another vehicle. Kills a woman and her child. That other car."
The story hit Boone hard, and the fact that Locke knew even harder. For a moment he was sure he was going to pass out, but determined not to show Locke how weak he was at the mention of the accident, he just swallowed again.
"How did you find out?" He asked quietly, knowing it would be useless to continue to act innocent.
"I've been following you around for nine years, Boone," Locke explained, "I probably know more about you than you do. Your name's Boone Rutherford. You're twenty-six. You attended the University of California for three years before you dropped out. You never told anyone. Your father died when you were young. Shannon's your stepsister by her father, who left when you were eighteen- right after the wreck. Soon after that your girlfriend gets you help. Under a fake name, you take a prescription to some serious antidepressant medication. Then you ran. You escaped that life, never telling anyone anything. It was a friend's car, though he skipped town. They never found a body, figured you burned up. But I knew better. I did some research of my own. Asked questions, got answers. Ones the police could've never though of. Ones the police gave up on. I knew better."
"You-" Boone said in confusion.
"That woman that was in the other car?" Locke said. "That was my wife. We were married for twenty years."
Boone caught himself before his jaw fell open, and felt the saliva wash away as he forced it back down. He held his hand to his head, trying to stop the headache that was coming on.
"The little girl that was with her?" Locke continued. "She was my daughter."
Locke said no more after that, leaving Boone to handle the information on his own, and he offered no moral support. Boone looked down, knowing Locke was watching his every move, and found himself unable to face the man. It was a few minutes before he was able to ask the question that had begun to bother him.
"But," Boone began, "if you knew who I was, why didn't you ever turn me in?"
"Because jail does nothing to a man," Locke answered, "he goes in, comes out, and never changes. Jail wouldn't do anything to you. No, when I found the man that killed my wife, that murdered my daughter, I wanted to deal with him on my own."
Author's Note: So, what did you think? Cool, huh? Well not really, for Boone's sake, I guess. A bit longer than I expected. Sorry it took so long to get out, blame my brother. I've had to wait up until twelve or later to write, and then I'd usually get writer's block. Oh well, here it is. Hope you liked it! Oh yeah, and thanks for the reviews!
Coming up next- Not sure yet. Truthfully. I don't know when the next chapter will be up. Hopefully before Wednesday night. I'm still debating about adding the Jin thing. So next chapter, most likely the boar thing, and the Locke/Boone thing.
Crazyhorsegirl88- Never fear, J/K will be here.. soon.. I promise!
+ October Sky
