Title: Another Day, Brotha!

Author: jbdean ©

Rating: G

Summary: First morning out of the bunker.

The warm sunshine on his face woke him from the first sound sleep he'd had in three years. Slowly he opened his eyes and took a moment to collect his thoughts and realize where he was.

"Ahhh, I'm outside," Desmond thought to himself.

Extending his arms out, he released a long grunt as he stretched. While his neck was a bit stiff from having spent the night on the jungle's ground, he never felt so alive. He pointed his toes down and then pulled them up ... repeating the movements several times before he was ready to rise and face the day. As he stood, he reached for his backpack and took one of the small glass bottles out and held it in his hand, up to the sunlight. His eyes studied it as if he'd never seen it before. They seemed to be thinking, 'Where did this come from?' Giving it a slight toss, he quickly grabbed it back and reached in with his other hand to pull out the administrator. Slipping the glass vial into a contraption that resembled a cross between a caulking gun and a vice, he slid his left arm out from his jumpsuit and injected the contents of the bottle into his upper arm. As he placed the items back into his bag, he took a moment to count how many of the the little vials he had.

"Should have grabbed more ... " he muttered to himself.

He zipped up the bag, got to his feet and slung the pack over one shoulder as he took a look around for any clue to help him decide which way he should go. Just as he started to head off through a grove of bamboo, he heard a noise in the bushes close by. Wheeling around, he reached for the rifle that he had not been able to bring with him when he escaped the bunker. Coming up empty handed, he darted into the thick of the bamboo and stood, quietly waiting to see if whatever had made that sound was going to show itself.

A moment, that seemed like an eternity, passed as he waited. Then, out of the brush, emerged a large boar mother and a smaller version of herself. They rooted around the earth, sniffed the air and stood still. The mother boar turned her head to face the bamboo grove. Desmond was in deep enough to not be seen but the primal instincts of the wild Suidae led her right to where he stood. Desmond wondered if the boar would attack and, knowing he had nothing to defend himself with, took a slow step further backward. He was beginning to sweat as he thought that, while being in the bunker for three years entering the code and pushing the execute button had more than taken its toll on him, right now he couldn't think of a better place to be and almost wished he was still there. Taking one more small step back, a branch crunched beneath his foot and startled the baby and she let out a loud squeal. The mother quickly turned and went to the child's aid and, seeing it was fine, quickly lost interest in the strange new scent she had picked up within the bamboo grove. Desmond watched patiently as the two vanished back into the brush as quickly as they had emerged. He let out a long sigh, turned and headed deeper into the bamboo.

As he exited the bamboo grove, Desmond took a moment to get his bearings. It had been so long since he'd really been to the surface that everything just looked the same. He also realized that in three years the terrain would have changed. But he felt he was going in the right direction so he turned slightly to his left and continued on through the jungle.

Images of Jack's tear streaked face kept returning to him. He couldn't shake them no matter how hard he tried. He wished he could have stayed longer and tried to console Jack. He didn't know him, he told himself, he did the best he could in the time he had. But if things had been different, he would have stayed and tried to get to the bottom of Jack's pain. Something had happened between Jack and Sarah ... something terrible. Had she died? Had whatever it was that was wrong with her come between them? Had she cheated on him? A million questions with not one single answer.

It was then that Desmond noticed a clearing up ahead of him. He knew at that moment he must be going in the right direction. His legs ached, not from lack of exercise but from the uneven ground beneath him. It was a far cry from the stationery bicycle he rode every day. But seeing the clearing brought new-found energy to his tired legs and he trudged onward.

As he entered the clearing, Desmond could see the overgrowth of vines that covered what he had been hoping to come across. He came up closer to the vines and when finally standing in front of them he let go with a huge smile and moved a large portion away with one smooth stroke of his arm. Just behind the vines, about 4 or 5 feet in, was a large metal door. It was an exact duplicate of the door to his bunker that he had left by. On the door he saw a familiar emblem. An octagon with several lines within it and a circle in the middle but instead of the SWAN that was on his walls back "home," this one only said DHARMA. He began to turn the handle and, at first, it wouldn't move but putting all his weight on it, it finally lunged downward and he heard the latch spring loose. Slowly he pulled the heavy door open and stepped inside to be met by a similar second door. This door opened with little effort and Desmond stepped inside the bunker.

It was dark inside and as he fumbled in his backpack for a flashlight he heard the sound of running water. Flicking on the flashlight, he let the beam lead him toward the sound of the water. Down a long dark tunnel, Desmond walked onward. The beam catching a glimpse of strange multi-colored paintings on both walls of the hall. But he had no time to look at them. He had to see if she was still there. Still waiting for him after all these years. It would be wonderful to see her again ... it had been much too long.

The hallway was longer than Desmond remembered or was it just his anticipation that made it seem that way? He felt like he had been trudging down the dank passageway for days and yet he knew it couldn't have been more than half an hour. The sound of the water was the only thing that kept him going ... knowing he was heading in the right direction.

Suddenly the stone floor beneath his feet took a noticeable down sloping and he quickened his pace because he knew now he was only moments away. Hurrying even more, he came to the end of his journey. Though as covered by vines as the entrance door had been, he could smell the salt air and hear the water as it lapped on the secluded shoreline that lay just outside the opening at the end of the passageway. Stepping up to the vines, he thrust his arm, shoulder and then his whole body through and came bounding out onto the clean white sand that looked just as it did when he first set foot on it 3 years before.

Standing there, looking out onto the blue-green ocean, whitecaps gently rolling in one-by-one, the sun overhead giving the palm trees an orange sheen and the water a warm glimmer from its reflection, Desmond's mind wandered back to the day he first saw this stretch of beach.

He had been sailing for nearly 6 months when he spotted what looked like land through his telescope. He had checked and rechecked his map and was certain there wasn't supposed to be any land in this section of the ocean and yet there it was, as plain as the deck under his feet. As he got closer he could make out a large mountain on the eastern side of what looked like one of the largest islands he had ever seen. He couldn't see any signs of civilization except for a large pillar of black smoke that rose up from the middle of the island. An experience sailor, Desmond still mentally kicked himself when he thought about what happened next.

So intent on looking through his telescope at the strange uncharted island, he totally lost track of sailing too close to the reef. He was on a solo journey around the world, trying to break his own previous record of 5 years before. He was in a race against himself and up until the very next moment, he had been ahead of schedule.

He nearly fell overboard when his ship, The Nairne (which is Scottish and means "From the river") violently struck the reef. His telescope flew out of his hands and plunged into the sea. It took all of his strength to not follow in after it. Once he could get to his feet, he dashed to the ship's wheel and tried to steer her clear of hitting the reef again but it was all in vain. The Nairne had lodged into what must have been a jutting piece of coral and the strong current was dragging her along it, ripping her wide open as it went. The sounds of creaking wood as it tore open the hull, had the erie similarity of a woman's voice crying out in pain. Desmond knew that it was only a matter of minutes before she would begin to take on water and be lodged there for good. Quickly he ran below deck and stuffed a blue backpack with a few things he knew he'd need if he made it to shore. Some clothes, a flashlight, a knife and a few tins of food. Zipping up the bag, he glanced once more around his cabin and spotted the photo of Fiona and him resting on a small shelf over his bunk. Gabbing the photo he stuck it into a zip-lock plastic bag that he had for storing left-over food and, sealing it, stuffed it into the backpack, closed it and hooked it over his arms. As he climbed back on desk, he could see that The Nairne had stopped moving and knew she was well lodged but beyond sailing any further. He stood, for a moment, on the edge of the deck taking one last look at his love ... the ship that had brought him around the world 5 years before and now lay lifeless at the mercy of the reef. He felt his eyes begin to water but quickly got ahold of himself and leapt into the sea.

"There'll be time for tears once I'm ashore ... " he thought as the water came up around him.

With the bag on his back, swimming was slow but he finally made it to land. As he stood on the white sand, he looked back out at his Nairne and could see her still there, as if waiting for him to come back and get her. It was shortly after that that Desmond was found by Kelvin and taken back to the bunker. They had only made a few trips back to this spot before Kelvin died. They had managed to drag The Nairne to shore where she still lay after 3 years in this cove that was cut off from the rest of the island and therefore never seen by anyone since Kelvin died ... that is until now.

Desmond slowly walked up to the now weathered schooner and gently lay a hand on her side.

"It's been too long, Love," he said, the tears beginning to blur his vision. He rested his head against the wood, warm by the sun. "But I came back." The breeze kicked up and it made the little boat groan as it moved slightly from the wind. It was almost as if she were crying, too ... almost as if she were saying, "I waited for you. I knew you'd be back. Here I am ... I'll never leave you again!"

TO BE CONTINUED