A/N: Well actually, I got a review, which is a lot more then I expected. Wow, aren't I optimistic? (THANKS Lily's Lil Sis for my first review! I've only seen the first season, but everyone is telling me how great the second one is. Also, THANK YOU SGCFAN4ever! Oh, I know what im doing. For once…). As always. Anyway, onward!

Disclaimer: No, I still don't own lost. Quit asking me that. It just reminds me that I still don't.

When Ardren woke up, the sky was already dark, and the only light came from a huge bonfire. His leg was tightly bound, and someone had found and left a single steel crutch. They had also dragged him up the beach, away from the water. Just as well, Ardren could see the tide had risen a bit, and he would have been back underwater.

Ignoring the crutch, he clambered to his feet, and took a step to the fire. His bandaged leg fell fast, leaving him with a mouth full of sand. Sputtering, Ardren wiped the sand off his tongue, aware of loud sniggering behind him. Glowering, he shot a mean look at the laughing man. He was tall, and his long blond hair was slicked back. He was lounging against the plane, and was smoking a cigarette.

"You're really laughing at a cripple? You're sick." Ardren spat, just missing the man's boots. That stopped the laughing, but he was still smirking.

"Least I can walk, Crutches." He said, as he left. Ardren made a face, picked up the crutch, and hobbled over to the fire.

A few survivors were already sitting in a tight circle; the closest being a boy and a girl, who were bickering. The blonde girl's voice was a bit whiney, and the boy had his faced scrunched up, like he was reasoning with a small child. Across from them, a thoughtful looking man who was obviously part Arab, sat staring into the fire morosely. Next to him a pregnant woman sat, crooning softly to her swollen stomach. Lastly, a young man with highlighted brown hair was drawing absent-mindedly on his fingers. He looked up at Ardren and did a small wave with two fingers.

"Oy! Sit. Dry. Want some food?" Ardren nodded enthusiastically, limping over to the open seat next to him. After he sat down, the man handed him a packaged airplane meal. Ardren grimaced, but took the food. The man grinned sheepishly.

"Well…it's almost food." Ardren laughed, pulling back the plastic.

"Bloody hell! Were crashed on an island, its good enough." The man acted hurt, but Ardren knew by his wide smile he was joking. He ate the cold turkey sub, but left the apple alone. When he was little, his brothers would tell him stories about kids taking bites out of apples with worms in them. Ardren had never doubted his older brothers.

"Names Charlie." The man said suddenly, looking up from his ink-covered knuckles. "I like apples."

"My names Ardren and I don't know what you're talking about." Charlie gestured to the apple. "Oh. Ooh. Yeah, take it." He threw the apple into Charlie's lap. They talked a bit, but everyone started drifting away the later it got, and in the end, Charlie left to sleep too. Ardren moved closer to the fire. Fire had always fascinated him.

Flashback

Eight year-old Ardren sat in the back of his oldest brother's, Jerry, Jeep. It was cramped, with all four of his brothers sitting almost on top of him. He was hungry; they had been driving around the dark city since five, and the digital clock said it was one in the morning. Sometimes they would stop, and disappear for a while before coming back carrying something wrapped in brown paper. After one of his brothers, Stephen, had clipped his eye with his elbow, he started to cry loudly. His brothers tried to shut him up, but he kept sobbing, much to Jerry's frustration. "Give him something to play with, or something!" One of the twins, Stacey or Scott maybe, handed him his lighter. "Enjoy, an' shut up, kid."

Ardren woke up on the bench. He brushed his hand through his long black hair, smiling as he felt the singed ends. He shook his head, and then noticed that everybody was already awake, and was gathering their belongings. He even spotted some debris piled up with tarps for shelter. With help from his crutch, he walked over to the pile of bags that were unclaimed. He rifled through them, and found the leather mailbag-style pack he had brought. Yay. Personal belongings. Now we need a shelter…Ardren looked around. No way he could lift any of the metal with his leg, like the others were doing. He could carry one of those tarps, but he wouldn't know what to do with it.

"Besides building a very big sandcastle, I don't know what to do." He said aloud.

"One wind and bam. Gone." An older looking bald man stood behind him. For some reason, the man seemed to stare at Ardren's crutch. "Hey…you brought two crutches, or what?" the man asked, frowning.

"Naw, it's not really mine. Found it. Why?" The man shrugged, and offered to help him with his shelter. He was strange, but at least he knew what he was doing. When the man, he had introduced himself as Locke, was finished, Ardren was staring at a small trench in the ground, with a tarp-roof. He turned to thank the man, but he was gone. Shrugging, he eased himself into the tent, and set up.