A/N: Howdy folks! Well, it's nice to see that I've enticed a few of you to join me on my journey of madness. I know things started slow, but they're going to start to build, and Fiona's past as well as relations with other castaways will be revealed slowly. I can only guarantee updates as my muse and The Powers That Be allow; unfortunately, the second half of one's senior year is pretty hectic. This is my stress relief (hehe). Anywho, enjoy the show!
Disclaimer: If you've seen it somewhere else, it's not mine. Please don't steal my character, nor confuse this Fiona with my other Fiona in my new Andromeda fic. Same names, different characters, savvy?
Special thanks to all of my wonderful reviewers…all three of you. Cookies for everyone!
Monica: Here is the next part. Hope you enjoy!
Shannon Michelle: Glad to hear I've got you hooked. Hope it stays that way. Here's part two, hope it's up to your standards!
artsygirl500: Yay, I can interest people in something! Hope you enjoy this part as well.
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FYI: Flashbacks will be in italics with no warning. Just so you know what to expect.
Chapter 2: Guardian Angels
Fiona sat for what felt like an eternity, though in reality it was probably only an hour or so. The wind had shifted, blowing in her face from the sea, bringing with it a fresh, cool scent. It was a pleasant change from the smell of burnt flesh and charred metal. Fiona lifted her chin and inhaled deeply, allowing the gentle wind to cleanse her olfactory senses and tease her auburn locks.
Sensing someone approaching, she tilted her head to the left and smiled softly. "Mr. Locke," she said as the older man sat next to her. "I had hoped you were alright."
John Locke looked mildly surprised at her statement. "How did you know it was me?" he asked.
"Well, we were sitting next to each other for several hours. That might have something to do with it."
The flight attendant looked at the young woman in front of her and smiled sympathetically, though she knew that the woman couldn't see it. "Hello Miss Harper," she said sweetly, placing her hand on the woman's arm. "My name is Jenna; I'll assist you to your seat." Jenna gently took the ticket from the woman's hand and began to lead her down the corridor where flight #815 was waiting.
"Thank you, Jenna," Fiona Harper replied, allowing the woman to guide her. Fiona's cane tapped out a steady tempo in front of her.
"Why are you traveling to the States?" Jenna asked, making pleasant conversation to fill the empty silence.
"Visiting family," Fiona replied automatically, as though the answer was preprogrammed. Finally, they arrived to her seat.
"Here we are, Miss Harper," Jenna said. "You're in the second seat in. I hope you enjoy your flight. Please don't hesitate to ask a flight attendant if you need anything while you're on board."
"Thank you," Fiona answered as Jenna walked away. She slid her fingers over the seats to the right one before carefully sitting down. Folding up her cane and sitting it in her lap, she tilted her head to the side as she heard people coming down the aisle. They stopped awkwardly at her row.
"Here we go. Here's your seat," a strange male voice said. There were sounds of shuffling around as someone seemed to fall heavily into the aisle seat next to her.
"I'll get your bag sir. If you need anything, just push the call button."
"Thank you," answered whoever was now occupying the seat next to Fiona. The people in the aisle walked back towards the entrance of the plane, leaving the two in silence.
"And how are you, sir?" John Locke looked over at the young woman sitting beside him, her head tilted in his direction and eyes staring blankly past him.
"Been better," he admitted as he dropped the information card on the floor and bent over, realizing that he couldn't reach it. He sat back in his seat with a huff, when surprisingly, a white cane slid past his legs to feel for the packet on the floor. John looked up to see the blind woman clumsily pushing the packet back in his direction, before reclaiming her cane and folding it again in her lap. John reached down for the packet again, this time picking it up with ease. Just as he tried to find the appropriate thing to say to fill the awkward silence, the young woman saved him from further embarrassment by speaking first.
"Flying is always an adventure for me."
Locke nodded, then looked down at the reason he had come over. "I brought you some water," he said, holding out the bottle. Fiona reached her hand in his direction, and he carefully placed it in her fingers before letting go. "Thought you might need it."
Fiona toyed with the cool bottle in her hands, touched and somewhat amazed by his consideration. "Thank you," she said. They sat for a moment in silence when Fiona cocked her head toward him. "If you don't mind my asking…why are you doing this?" Her tone was not so much accusatory as curious. Locke smiled.
"Well, someone has to look out for you. Suppose it might as well be me." Fiona smiled graciously, amazed and grateful for the strange man's aid. "Well," Locke started, pushing himself to his feet, "I'd better go see what else I can do. You okay here?"
Fiona nodded, and he turned to leave. "Mr. Locke," she called after him.
Locke paused and turned back to face her. "Why don't you call me John. Formalities have no place in a situation like this."
The young woman smiled again, broader this time. "John then. Have you seen my cane? I thought I had it in my hands on the plane…"
John's brow crinkled as he thought. "I haven't seen it, but I'll keep an eye out for you." Inwardly he cringed at his choice of words, but Fiona only beamed her brilliant smile at him.
"Thank you so much. I really appreciate it." John nodded again, then turned and walked back toward the wreckage.
Fiona removed the cap of the water bottle and took a deep swig. She hadn't realized how thirsty she was until she drank the water. She made a mental note to try and do something for John later, to repay him for his kindness.
The plane trembled as it hit the turbulence. Fiona gripped her armrest tighter and clutched her cane in her other hand. Suddenly, a great roar filled the air and there was a sickening ripping noise, as though a giant had grabbed the plane and was taking it apart.
"What's happening?" Fiona shouted over the roar and the screams. John Locke looked at her, bewildered, before realizing that the girl couldn't see the oxygen mask dangling in front of her. He grabbed her mask and put her left hand on it while he pulled the strap back behind her head. Then he scrambled to put on his own mask. He watched Fiona's head dart from side to side, her milky green eyes wide in confusion and fear. He wished that he could comfort her, but he couldn't talk. After a moment's hesitation, he did the only thing he could; he grabbed her hand just above the wrist in held on tight as all hell broke loose around them.