A/N: Okay, so I know that 'I'm sorry' is hardly sufficient for my lack of updates lately. dodges rotten vegetables But between AP classes, my sister's wedding, and my graduation (two days to go!), the past few months have been crazy. That, and my muse has been giving me hell on this chapter. So, I hope you enjoy.

sweetypie15-Here's your update. Glad you like.

Phoenix-Talon- Yay, I made a favorites list! does a happy dance There will be more Sawyer soon (I hope) He's one of my favorites as well. Didn't he look hot (or hotter than usual) with his hair pulled back in a ponytail? The Locke thing will be major as well. Hope you enjoy the update!

Monica- Glad you're enjoying it. Thanks for the review!

OieCuite- As far as Fiona's abilities…you have no idea. The best is yet to come, I assure you. So happy you like it. Here's your update, enjoy!

The Pirate Illusionist- Stories are tricky that way--easy characters, hard plots. Just look at my story. Fiona is easy, but getting the scenes down into words is horrible. It plays out so nicely in my head…I can only hope that I get it down adequately on paper (or computer). I've known kids with CP as well, though much more extreme than your sister. One boy at our school had no normal functions--he couldn't speak or anything, he could only move his electronic wheelchair. He was really smart too. It seems like the ultimate hell--to have a brilliant mind, but trapped in a body that won't let you do anything. But on a happier note, hope you enjoy the update!

Ivory Core- A bit of an explanation on Fiona's hearing is coming, some of it in this chapter even. I'm going with the idea that when one sense is repressed, the others become stronger to compensate, but you'll see that soon. Sorry the update wasn't exactly 'soon' but hey, I did the best I could. Hope you enjoy!

Many thanks to all of my wonderful reviewers (and those who don't review, but I wish you did)! You make this the best pastime in the world. Now, on with the show!

Chapter 5: Finding a Purpose

Fiona sat on the beach, idly swirling designs in the sand with her finger, bored out of her mind. She wasn't used to being still for so long. In Australia, she was always going somewhere or doing something, and sitting around feeling useless was not something that she enjoyed. John was off doing something or another; she hadn't bothered to ask. It was none of her concern.

Someone was approaching her hesitantly, taking a few steps and then stopping, as though afraid to continue. Their shuffling dance continued a few yards from her left, weaving up and down the beach. Fiona smiled when she identified the gait and held her hand out to the newcomer.

"It's alright, Walt. I'm not going to bite you," she called. The boy froze in his tracks and after a moment's hesitation, sat down next to the young woman on the sand. Mr. Locke had asked him to keep her company for a little while, assuring him that he wouldn't get bored around her. Now he wondered if his new friend was right.

"What're you doing?" he asked, ignoring her unusual identification of him. Fiona smiled grimly.

"Attempting to prevent myself from going mad in boredom," she answered. "Have you had any luck in finding your dog?"

Walt looked down sadly. "No. Mr. Locke said that he would keep an eye out for him though."

Fiona nodded. "Well, I'm sure that if anyone can find your dog, Mr. Locke can."

"Yeah." The two sat in silence for a few moments, before Walt asked the question that had been on his mind since Mr. Locke had told him about the woman. "What's it like being blind?"

Fiona was only slightly caught off-guard by the question. From what John had told her, Walt was very inquisitive. "It's not as bad as you may think. I merely…see the world in a different way."

"What do you mean?"

At this Fiona paused, taking a deep breath, and searching for the right words. "Well…close your eyes." Walt hesitated for a moment, then did as he was told. "Are they closed?"

"Yes."

"Can you still see me?" Walt peaked open one eye, wondering if she was serious, but quickly closed it again.

"No," he answered, sounding a little sarcastic.

"Of course not. So how do you know that I am still here?"

"Well…I can hear you."

"Exactly. If I were to get up and walk away, you would be able to hear me leaving. If you kept your eyes closed long enough, you would realize that you not only hear me, but smell me and…sense me as well. Does that answer your question?"

Walt opened his eyes and looked up at the woman, impressed at his new knowledge. "Yeah."

"Good." Fiona faced towards the sea again and sighed.

"So, what kind of stuff did you do in Australia?"

Fiona smiled at Walt's endless array of questions. "Oh, I did all sorts of things."

"Like what?"

Fiona raised her head, facing the sky, and tapped her chin with her finger. "Well…I went to work, and I volunteered at a center that trained people who were newly blind. My particular favorite pastime, however, was my martial arts class."

Walt's eyes widened. "You took martial arts?" He sounded impressed.

Fiona laughed. "I did. For nearly eight years now. I'm really quite good, or at least that's what my instructor has told me. Even he has reached the point that he is hesitant to fight me."

"Wow." Walt looked with new respect at the young woman. Fiona thought for a moment, before "looking" down at the boy next to her.

"Walt, tell me about the jungle."

He looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Describe it to me. What do you see?"

Walt peered behind them to the outskirts of the jungle. "I don't know. There's trees, and all kinds of different plants. It's just…jungle."

Fiona smiled patiently. "Do you see any plants that have…long, thin leaves on them? Perhaps curved slightly, like a banana?" She waved her hands out in front of her, as though trying to sculpt a picture out of the air. Walt turned again and peered harder at the jungle.

"Yeah. I guess so."

The woman nodded and smiled. "Good. Now tell me, do you think you could find us a small bag or satchel that no one is using?"

Walt thought for a moment. "I think I could find one."

Fiona's smile blossomed full force. "Excellent. Would you like to help me with a little project?"

An hour or so later, Fiona sat contently in her spot, thrilled that she was now doing something productive. With Walt's help, they had gathered up a whole bunch of leaves like the ones that she had described, and she was now weaving them together into mats. Walt had sat by her side for awhile, but as she completed mats, he would take them and distribute them to anyone who wanted one.

As she continued with her project, John came to sit next to her. They sat in silence for a few moments, at ease in the quieter corner of the beach. "I found Vincent," John said after a moment. "Michael's off reuniting him with Walt."

Fiona smiled as she continued to work. "Good," she said. "It'll give Walt something to care for and take his mind off of our current predicament."

John nodded and stared out over the ocean. After a moment he looked over as Fiona completed another mat and rolled it up, setting it at her side. She then reached into a bag of leaves and began another. He watched her swift movements curiously as she expertly weaved the leaves together to form a thicker, sturdier material.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" he asked, somewhat bewildered by the unusual skill. The product almost resembled things that he'd seen various native groups make for their own comfort and survival. He had no idea how a blind girl with an almost British accent could have come across such skill.

Fiona didn't answer right away. Her past was something sacred to her; a precious gem not to be carelessly thrown around.

"Miss Harper?" The older woman's voice was growing on Fiona's nerves. Her newfound blindness was unnerving enough without having to deal with these fools day in and day out. "Fiona, I need you to answer my questions."

The child raised her head defiantly. "Why? You wouldn't understand my answers. Besides, how can my past possibly help you to teach me how to live like this?"

Marie Puriar sighed heavily and leaned over in her chair to be more on the physical level of the petite tweenager before her. "Fiona, we've discussed this. I need to know how you are accustomed to living so that I can help you make the necessary adjustments."

Fiona glowered in the counselor's direction for a long moment before responding. "Fine," she spat. "My father was an anthropologist. My mother was a researcher. We traveled to various native villages and civilizations in South America and in the Pacific Islands. I've spent the majority of the past twelve years in one jungle or another." There was a disconnected coolness in the girl's voice as she spoke. The pain of her parents' deaths was still far too fresh for comfort, and Marie could only shake her head slightly and write down some notes as she listened to the girl. If Fiona could ever learn to control her anger, she could have a brilliant future.

"A family friend taught me," Fiona answered. From her tone, John got the feeling that she no longer wanted to talk about it. So he nodded and sat back, enjoying the view of the ocean and wondering if there wasn't more to this young woman than met the eye.