Rating: PG
Summary: He would have given anything to hug his dad one more time. One more. Just one.
Warnings: None, really...unless you're adverse to a bit of emotion and sinister-ness.
Status of Fic: Completed One-Shot
Author's Notes: I always wondered what happened to Walt after he was taken...This is a result of that. Entered in TayTay's "Drama/Tragedy/Sad/Creepy Fanfiction Challenge!" and again written ages ago and refound in the Lost-Forum fan fic reshuffle. ;)
Disclaimer: Don't own Lost, yadda, yadda, yadda.
Always Dark. Always Alone.
It was dark where he was. Always it was dark. The darkness about him was absolute. Impenetrable. So dark that he couldn't tell if his eyes were open or tightly shut. He couldn't see a single thing. Not even his small hand two inches in front of his face. He could no longer tell if he was staring into the insides of his eyelids or if he was looking out into a vast nothingness.
Darkness.
And yet it was not stationary. It moved and twisted and writhed like a mass of black beasts, tossing and turning and making strange, incomprehensible shapes before his eyes.
It danced around him.
Shapes.
Creatures.
The more he tried to see them, the more obscure they became, flitting away from him until he heaved a sigh of relief and half closed his eyes, intent on letting sleep overcome his tired mind.
It was then, always then that they returned.
They always came back.
Always dancing and mocking him. Like the kids that use to pick on him when his mom and Brian had moved him to a new school.
It scared him. Fear tainted his tongue with a metallic tang he had never known in his short years. In the first few days, or hours, or weeks, or minutes, or years, in the beginning the taste of terror so foul made him wretch. His small, hunger swollen stomach heaving, trying to turn itself inside out almost. To remove the food that wasn't even there in his belly.
He had not eaten since they took him. For days, or hours, or weeks, or minutes, or years. He had no concept of time and all he wanted nothing more than a glass of water to wash away the bitter taste and the panic that he felt.
He had long since stopped trying to reach out his hand tentatively, fingers splayed wide, combing through the living darkness, attempting to find something, anything to anchor himself to. He had long since stopped letting his tears fall freely down his round cheeks. The sobs had long since stopped leaving his throat. His thin shoulders had long since stopped bobbing with the emotion that he was releasing. Emotion that he had not felt since the day that his mom had died.
His mom.
Mom.
Would he see her again soon? When the ones who had him had finished with him? Would he like it in heaven? Would he go there?
He wanted it all to end. The nothingness around him. He would rather be back in that playground with that ring of teasing, mocking kids around him. Poking him and pushing him and calling him names that he had never heard before. Horrible names that when he told his mom, they made her cry with shock and hold him close, pressing his head to her heart.
He wanted a hug from his mom again. Just one. One more. He wanted to feel safe and warm like he had in her arms. The smell of lavender shampoo and the soap powder that she used to wash their clothes in and that made his skin itch. He would never complain about it itching ever again if he could just feel safe one more time.
His dad had made him feel safe even if he was angry most of the time and that had scared him a bit. Though it was nothing compared to the fear that shivered through his slight frame at that moment.
His dad.
Dad.
He'd known him for barely more than a few days before the plane had crashed and he had found somewhere that he had liked being. He'd known him for about a month after that before he had been taken.
With his dad. He realised that he felt safe with him too. Not just his mom anymore. And when his dad had hugged him, though it wasn't as soft and warm and sweet smelling as his mom's had been, he felt safe. Hard muscles beneath thin cotton. Smelling of hard work and the sea.
Safe.
He would have given anything to hug his dad one more time. One more. Just one.
He guessed that the darkness knew that he wanted to feel safe. That he was scared of it and he supposed that was what made it scarier than ever.
It liked to make him feel scared. Like those kids in that playground use to.
When he was scared it became darker and vaster and it moved more fiercely than ever before until he drew his bony knees up to his chest and buried his face deep in them, unable to cope any longer.
Dad! He called out into his own embrace. Dad! I'm scared! Mom! Mom, I want you to keep me safe! I want to see you again! Dad, I want you to take me home!
And as his muffled words seeped from between his arms, grasping his knees up to his chest as tightly as they could, he heard the darkness make it's reply.
The darkness had a voice like wasps, like flies and hissing snakes. Like thousands and thousand and thousands of whispers. And they laughed. They found amusement in his pleas for salvation and more so in his terror.
No, Walt. It murmured at him, from every direction and nowhere in particular.
His head whipped around, eyes so wide that he could feel the darkness pressing against them, trying to get inside him. Trying to take over his mind. To take him away from himself.
No, no, Walt. He could imagine it, the darkness, smiling at him.
Smiling smugly, wickedly. Smile like a big crocodile or a dragon. Teeth
sharp and gnashing.
No. No. You are staying here, Walt. You are ours, Walt. You must stay with us. Always.
If he'd had tears left he would have cried them all. If he hadn't been
too tired or too hungry or too horror-struck, he would have fought
against it, screaming and fighting and kicking.
I want my dad! I want him! He'll come get me! I know he will!
More laughing hissing. More mocking, imagined smiles in the pitch black.
He won't, Walt. He won't, he won't.
Silence.
The buzzing voices stopped for a long moment in which he could only hear his heart, could only feel it fluttering like a hummingbird's wing against his ribs and he dared to raise his head, eyes wide once more, warily watching for the shifting of the dark.
Alone, Walt.
It whispered in his ear and he started, whipping his head around to face it.
Always alone, Walt.
His other ear thrummed with the voices and what they were telling him.
You belong to us now, Walt.
The Others…
Fin
-oOo-