Disclaimer: No matter how much I'd like to, I'll never own Lost or its characters or its beautifully crafted plotline...

Note: Written after/takes place during Maternity Leave. Sorry if its a bit choppy... It parallels the show, but I'm not going to rewrite the whole show with my new character included. So it works like this: Most scenes take place in between scenes of the actual show. The rest are modified to have the new character included and stuff... sorry if the chapters are short... anyway, enjoy. And please comment!

"So, Daphne. You know, that's an interesting name you've got there," Locke said, walking up to Daphne who was sitting in the sand near Claire's tent. There was still something about her that he didn't completely trust, despite proof that she was on the plane.

"How so?" She inquired as Locke sat down. There was something odd about Locke that she couldn't quite place either.

"Well, do you know where it comes from?"

"No, not really. Why, do you know?"

"Yes, I do. I believe that a lot of thought goes into a person's name, that a name helps make a person who they are. A lot of the time, a person will name their kids something with great significance without even realizing it."

"Is it like that with you, Mr. Locke? Do you believe in the whole tabula rasa, blank slate thing?"

"You know your history. That's good," he smiled. "And as for tabula rasa, I like the concept, but I don't quite believe in it exactly as the other John Locke meant it."

"How's that?"

"Well, I believe that people have an instinct toward certain things, from birth. People want to be liked, people want to be happy, people want to be accepted. But upbringing does have the greatest impact on people. What a person goes through molds him as he grows."

"So, would you say the name suits you? Would you consider yourself a philosopher?"

"You could say that. And I think that this island is great for that. Life starts over here. You can become the person you've always wanted to be. Or you can let whatever was your bane before the island keep on haunting you."

"Right. A blank slate. So, Mr. Locke, what does my name mean?"

"Well, there's a Greek legend about a nymph named Daphne and a god named Apollo. The war god was angry at Apollo for being prideful, so he made two arrows, one of gold and one of lead. With the gold one, he pierced the heart of Apollo and with the blunt, leaden shaft he struck Daphne. From then on, Apollo was in love with Daphne but Daphne was unable to ever love him back. Finally, Apollo chased Daphne until she asked her father to help her. He changed her into a laurel tree."

"Um… okay? So I'm… a tree?" Daphne joked.

"Not quite. Now seriously, would you say that's you?"

Daphne thought about this for a while, searching for meaning in the story. "No, not really."

"Look deeper and you may find it yet."

But Daphne still couldn't understand. "So, have you figured everyone else out yet? Their names I mean?"

"I've thought them all over a bit. Kate, Katherine is derived from a Greek word for 'each of the two'. She's unpredictable, she's a good person but she has another side too. Now you try."

"Um, Claire… from the same root as 'clarity,' meaning clear and bright." Daphne was surprised by her own idea.

"And what does that say about her?"

"Well, she's a good person and she doesn't really… hide anything?" she finally finished, hoping it didn't sound stupid. She really didn't know any of them very well except for what she had heard.

"That's good."

"So, what do you think is the most kind of… significant name?"

" Good question. Maybe that Jack's last name is Shephard and he's always been the natural leader."

"Are you saying we're all sheep?" Daphne questioned.

"I don't know," he said pausing. "I've never thought of it that way."

"You don't agree with him being the leader all the time, do you?"

"I don't let him be in charge all of the time. It's a democratic thing most of the time. Just, a lot of them probably look to him for guidance."

"But not you, John."

"Hmm?"

"You said a lot of them look to up to Jack. Implying you aren't one of those people."

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"So, are you going to let the rest of us follow Jack like little lemmings?"

"What're you implying?"

"I've heard Jack's trying to start an army against the Others. But it's pointless. There's too many of them, too little of us. They've got weapons, Sawyer's got a couple of guns. We have no chance."

"So, what can we do?"

"I can't think of anything that doesn't end all Lord of the Flies. I'm sure you can though, John. You're the philosopher."

Daphne stood up and headed toward the beach. She wondered if Locke was seriously considering what she had told him. She wondered…

Was she really incapable of love? She had found a way to run away from it. She knew it was coming and she kept going that way. Because it was the way it was supposed to be. Because she never really loved him. Because…

"You all everybody…" Daphne hummed to herself as she tacked a printed picture onto her wall, among hundreds upon hundreds of other photos. She beamed as she glanced at it in the midst of the rest of her massive collage.

When her boyfriend came over and kissed her, she closed her eyes and tenderly returned the favour. As he pulled away and grinned, he glanced at the new addition on the wall. "What the bloody hell is that?" he laughed, half out of shock, half out of embarrassment for the guy as he made out the picture. He looked at it more closely to be positive. Yup. Just like he thought. Charlie. In a diaper. Right then.

"Oh, Driveshaft did a commercial, y'know, before the hiatus. They never really finished it. I heard they didn't have time to when Megan was born."

He didn't even respond. It was useless. He suddenly remembered the real reason for his visit. She changed her song to "You all every-Butties" and continued to hum. She turned to him, witnessing him place a stuffed polar bear on her bed and turning away.

"Tommy… what's wrong?" she asked as he turned away from the doll, which held a little scarlet 'I Love You' heart between its miniature white paws and a blood red rose between its teeth. She had given it to him on Charlie's birthday. "You've been kind of distant lately."

He turned to face her and she saw that his eyes were teary. He swept his light hair away from his eyes and gave it to her straight: "Daphne, I can't do this anymore."

"What? What are you talking about… us?"

"Yeah, Daphne. Us. It's not… working," he finally admitted weakly, choking up.

"But, why not? Things are going great. I love you," she said, still convinced it was some kind of cheap joke. He was the joking type. But this was different.

"I know you do… I love you too. But you don't. You don't love me."

"What're you talking about? You don't know what you're saying…"

"But I do. You love me because I remind you of him. Cos I've got blond hair and blue eyes , because I have an accent and I've got the same stupid grin…"

"Hey… don't you dare say that…"

"What, that you don't love me or that I think Charlie's stupid?" She didn't reply, but the look in her eyes prayed him to stop. "I know that when I kiss you… when you close your eyes, I'm Charlie," he finished with disgust.

"Tommy, you know that's ridiculous."

"No. It's really not. You've printouts and magazine cuttings and posters on every square centimetre of wall, all Driveshaft. It's an addiction with you. You need them to be happy."

"You think this is an addiction? Because it's not. I admire Driveshaft. It's a choice. If I wanted to stop I would." But in her voice there was a hint of something that made it sound like she wasn't so sure.

"Then give them up."

"What?"

"Give them up." She watched her, saw the look of shock in her eyes. "See. You can't. You couldn't. Just like they couldn't."

"Are you saying what I think you are?" She was affronted. She didn't think he would sink to that level. "They are not drug-addicts. You know that's true, Charlie would never do something stupid like that, not ever."

"You talk about him like you know him. But you don't. And you never will, and you'll never get that bleeding photo signed because Driveshaft is done. That's right. Their indefinite hiatus thing… you know they're broken up. You need to admit it to yourself."

She remained silent. "Daphne, I know we've been best friends since I moved here, and we promised we'd be together forever…"

"And after," she finished.

"I know," he said, with tears in his eyes, "But right now, I'm going to give you an ultimatum. It's them or me."

"I choose you."

"Then you're going to have to do something for me."

"Anything Tommy. I love you."

He put his hand in her right jeans pocket and pulled out a battered photograph. "Burn it."

"What?" She couldn't get rid of it, not in a million years. Her life wouldn't ever be fulfilled if Charlie never signed it. It was her goal, her reason to keep going, her…

"See, you're not going to do it. And until you can give them up and love me for me and not for Charlie, this is going to have to be goodbye." He handed her the snapshot.

"But… we're going to see Sod's Law next week…Together."

"Do you even like them? They're terrible. You like them for the same reason you like me. They're from the U.K. They'll probably cover "You All Everybody" because they don't have any sodding songs of their own… You're trying to recreate that night that never happened."

"We saved up for those plane tickets forever… you can't leave!"

"I don't care anymore… bring someone else to Australia with you, Daph. I can't help you get over this, and neither can Driveshaft. You're always depending on other people to help you. But you're the only one who can help yourself. Bye." He kissed her softly on the forehead.

As he turned away, she grabbed his arm. "Don't leave me," she pleaded. "We're supposed to be together."

"I'm sorry…" he whispered and pulled his arm away.

"But we were supposed to be together!" Tommy reached the doorway. "Charlie!" she shouted. Tommy stopped. Daphne clapped her hand to her mouth. She couldn't believe what she had just said.

"Goodbye, Daphne," he said and left the room.

She sat down on cool dark sheets of her bed. She grabbed the bear and stared at it for a moment before she burst into tears. She pulled it close to her chest. Was Driveshaft really worth losing him? She pulled the bear close to her chest and squeezed it snugly to herself. She held the photo up in her left hand, tears streaming down her face, her lip trembling. Was it really worth it?

She leaned her head against the wall, tears coursing down the pictures, soaking them. She felt as if Driveshaft had betrayed her. She began to grab papers from the wall, tearing them away. She slashed furiously at them for the better half of an hour when she realised what she had been doing.

No, Driveshaft hadn't abandoned her. They were the only ones who could help her now. They alone could make her stronger, make her better, make it so Tommy could take her back. Her crying suddenly stopped. She grabbed a roll of tape and carefully replaced the tear-soaked portion of the collage she had destroyed. Fortunately, with its immensity, she had barely made a dent in it.

As she placed the last picture back on the wall, a sudden strange feeling came over her. She needed to go to Australia. She would be going alone, but that was fine. She didn't need anyone to go with her, it was better this way. Because she was going to get the picture signed somehow, and her heart told her the answer to how that would be done was waiting for her in the land down under.