Disclaimer: If I owned Lost, I really think I'd be living in a Hawaiian beach house. But I don't live in a Hawaiian beach house, therefore I don't own Lost.

The Meeting

I stepped lightly over the sand and walked quietly around the fire, being careful to stay out of the light of the fire, not wanting anyone to spot me, if anyone was even awake.

Lucky for me, I had good night eyes and was able to spot a bag fairly quickly. I rummaged through it and pulled out a pair of jeans and a tank top. As an afterthought, I snagged a pair of sandals. I then retreated to a dark section of the beach and pulled on the clothes, feeling them strange against my skin, having worn nothing but silk dresses all my life.

As the morning progressed, I could see signs of life coming from the various shelters. I watched from afar, until I spotted a tall blonde woman heading in my direction, hands in her pockets and head down as she walked straight towards me. My first instinct was to run, but then I remembered my mission. I knew I would be the one to make the first move.

"Hi," I called out, "What's your name?"

The pretty blonde walked closer before answering, "I'm Claire." She said, looking at me as though I should have known this. She had an accent, much unlike Karen's, and I couldn't place it. The girl, Claire, spoke up again, "What's your name?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but then something Karen said came floating back to my mind, you must go under a different name. I changed my words, saying the first name that came to mind, "I'm Alex."

"Oh, nice to meet you Alex," Claire said, seemingly unaware of my moment's indecision. Claire started to walk again, and I followed her. She didn't object to my presence, so I took that as a good sign.

"What do you do in the real world Alex?" Claire ventured to ask me.

Again, I was frozen by a moment's indecision, and again I said the first thing that came to mind, "I'm a dance teacher over in…France." I don't know why France came to my mind just then, but it seemed to flow well.

"What about you?" I asked curiously.

Claire smiled sympathetically, as though she assumed that I was insane or something.

"I was a housewife for nine months, when I was, you know, pregnant."

I nodded, pretending I knew what she was talking about, when in reality, I didn't have a clue.

As always when I found myself in an uncomfortable situation, I found my self fidgeting with myself; twisting the hem of the borrowed lilac tank top, twirling a strand of my long golden hair around my finger and examining my long nails.

Claire sighed, "I'd better get back to camp before Charlie loses Aaron."

Before I could stop myself, I asked, "Aaron?"

"Aaron. My baby." Claire said, and I could tell that she was definitely suspicious. She turned around and walked away after a hurried good bye. I watched her go out of sight before retracing our footsteps back to the camp, thinking the whole way. I hadn't learned much from Claire except that there was someone named Charlie on this island who took care of a baby named Aaron and I doubted that Karen and Gerald would care about something as little as that. Then again, they seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with children. First, there were the two little kids, Emma and Zack, who had been taken from the camp, and then there was the ten year old boy, Walt or whatever his name was. I remember one of the last questions I asked Karen was why she liked to take little kids from their parents, and she had responded that the kids that were taken had something special. "We took you," she had explained, "and it's obvious how worthy you are to us now. When raised properly, these children will learn to live like us and will forget all about their dear old parents." But was it right? I thought to myself. To take these children away from their parents? The oldest boy, Walt, didn't like the fact that he was in a strange environment, but when he had explained that to Karen and Gerald, they had laughed, saying that this was where he belonged, that he was special. Even I was able to recognize the certain aura of power surrounding the boy, but I remember what Karen had told me of the fight at sea. Maybe I should stay on this side of the island forever, and be rid of the terrible DeGrootes. Was it possible?

My thoughts were interrupted harshly when I stumbled and fell hard into the sand.

"Are you alright?" A deep, accented voice inquired from above me. I looked up and saw a tall, dark skinned man with curly hair. He was from the Middle East I was certain. I accepted his helping hand, noticing the rough skin on his palms. He might have been a soldier at one time.

"Yes, yes I'm fine," I said, a bit breathlessly.

He looked at me strangely. "Have we ever met before?" He asked me.

I shook my head. "Strange, you look familiar. I'm Sayid by the way."

"I'm Alex. I'm a dance teacher in southern France."

Sayid gave me a grim smile. "A dance teacher from the south of France may be the answer to my prayers."

"What do you mean?" I asked quickly, fearing I had been discovered.

"I need someone to translate the maps again. We are searching for Walt and Jack is convinced we may find him by translating the maps. Unfortunately, no one on this island that I knew of speaks a bit of French, although, when I asked around, I got someone who spoke Portuguese. Shannon spoke French, of course, but after, you know," Here Sayid choked and looked down, "Well," he continued, "will you help me?"

I hesitated. The consequences of helping them find Walt were too horrible to imagine, but this man, Sayid, looked so desperate, and so lost, that I thought it heartless to refuse.

I smiled at Sayid encouragingly, "Of course I'll help."

Sayid's smile became a bit more genuine as he showed me towards his tent, where a table with chairs was set up.

I took up a chair and a pencil and set to work on the translations, speaking conversationally to Sayid the whole time. I managed to find out a bit more as well. There had been a plane crash, although I had guessed that already when I spotted the bits of metal scattered around the beach. The man he had mentioned, Jack, was the island doctor, there was a hatch, with a computer, but I knew that of course, and Shannon had been Sayid's lover.

"Tell me of Shannon," I whispered gently, "I never spoke to her. How did she die?"

Sayid gave me a searching look. "Do you not know?"

I shook my head. "I don't listen much around here. I've been more worried about, well, staying alive." I invented hastily.

Sayid nodded, seeming to except that answer. "She was shot. We were looking for Walt, and Shannon ran off, I heard a bang, and…" he trailed off, but I understood.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered.

"It helps to talk about it," Sayid informed me.

I could find no answer to that, so I returned to the translations.

A/N: Like, wow. I'm pretty pleased with this chapter. I can't think of anything to say, so…REVIEW! (please;)