To elfmaiden4legs:
Me - Well, I hope you like this chap! You'll find out slowly what will happen to our dear little rock star.
Cirn - Glad you like it! I'm glad Locke didn't turn out to be too out of character

To Spice of Life:
Me – Yes, I agree. Darn that French woman. She isn't gone either.
Cirn - Here here! lol

To Ernil i Pheriannath:
Me – Here's more for you and soon there will be more and more, until it's done. Why, thank-you. :-)
Cirn – More portions of Angst coming right up!

When Locke reached the cave, he quickly went inside and slowly put Charlie down. Then, he looked around for dry wood to make a fire with to keep the injured young man warm. He was lucky, for he found what he needed soon enough. After starting up a fire, he went to sit by Charlie's side and leaned his back against the cold rock of the cave. Slowly, he drifted off to a slight slumber.

Locke woke up to the sound of someone shifting. Opening his eyes, he found Charlie trashing and coughing. Locke stood up and walked to the injured young man, but when he came within the reach of Charlie, the feverish man suddenly screamed and punched him in the face. The punch wasn't really hard, for Charlie had no energy left in him after he stabbed himself. Still, there might be a bruise on Locke's face tomorrow.

Locke took a better look at the young man and decided that he could not do much for him at the moment anyway, so he sat back down. The fire started to die down, so he picked up a few branched and poked the fire. Hypnotized by the glowing flame his mind started to drift to the wounded man next to the wounded man next to him. Charlie was a heroin addict and he was showing withdrawals signs. Locke had nothing against drug addicts, but he had always thought that it was their own fault that they had started it, so he never pitied them. On Charlie, though Locke did not know what to think. The same? No. Locke did pity Charlie. He even sympathized with him. In the short time he'd known him, Charlie was full of spirits. What made the young man start on drugs? Locke didn't know. He'd heard enough stories about why people would start on drugs. He'd met people who knew people that were drug addicts. He'd even met a few ex-drug addicts. But none of the stories he had heard, seemed like they would fit Charlie.

Sighing deeply, he snapped out of his thoughts. This was not a time to dwell on these matters. Locke leaned back against the rock and closed his eyes. He needed his energy to carry Charlie back to the beach tomorrow. Better get enough sleep.

Breathing – the air goes in the lungs and out again. It's like a wave from the sea. It was a miracle to feel and to see. It is a constant struggle. If you go under, then breath and water become one and the same. Two waves melding as one.

As if Charlie had been sucked under a wave, his breath came out strangled. It was uneven and uneasy. Every breath came out slowly, dragging with each second. The night slowly faded and with it, Charlie's energy and breath. He could hardly breathe and still the man bled.

From his stomach wound, blood soiled the cloth around it and had even puddle a little to the sides of him. By morning, his skin was pale and he scarcely breathed. The look on his face was absolute torture. His sweaty brow was drawn and he wore a grimace on his lips. The sun shone into the cave and fell into Charlie's eyes. Slowly, he stirred. With the waking, he coughed and screamed because it hurt so badly.

Locke started awake and shot up from where he was sleeping. Pain shot through his neck and back, but he ignored it, focusing instead on more important matters. Like the young man on the floor who seemed to be in pure agony at the moment. Locke was by his side in no time and a deep frown marred his face.

For the first time in his life, Locke felt the utter helplessness inside him. Even when he could not walk, he did not feel helpless. This new feeling scared him. He quickly looked around him for something, anything that could help him, but there were only dirt and branches and the smoldering make-shift campfire.

Taking a deep breath, Locke forced himself to calm down. Suddenly, he heard it. The sound of water. He shot up from where he was crouching, once again ignoring the lingering ache in his back and started towards the source of the sound. Just a little further in the cave, there was a small source of water. Locke suddenly felt the need to thank the gods for this new source of water. He was sure that it would help Charlie.

Quickly, he tore off a piece of his shirt and dipped it in the water, cleaning it a bit. Looking around him, he found large pieces of leafs. He picked one up and folded it into a semi cup. He filled it with water by dipping it under and he was very relieved when it didn't seem to leak. Walking back over to Charlie, he put the piece of water soaked cloth on the feverish young man's forehead and tilted his head up a little. He brought the make-shift cup with water to Charlie's lips and tried to make him drink a bit.

Charlie sputtered when the water hit the back of his throat. However, as the water slowly eased down his throat, he relaxed as the coolness soothed his parched throat. The cool water on his hot brow brought some feelings of relief, though no amount of coolness helped his mounded abdomen. Slowly, he opened his eyes. "Locke," he whispered weakly, "I…" The man trailed off as he tried to collect his thoughts. "can explain," he said after a long time.

Locke raised his eyebrows at the young man, a look that clearly said 'Oh really?', despite the fact that he felt enormously relieved inside that Charlie had enough strength to speak normally again. "Well fella, you better start talking then." he said in the most stern voice he could muster.

Charlie nodded. His eyesight was cloudy and he could hardly see who he was talking to. That, however, did not matter. How could he begin? Slowly, Charlie breathed in and then he exhaled. "I…" he began and stop, "get really depressed when I don't have a fix or I get angry. I hurt people. I hurt myself. I-I knew this would happen." He gestured to his wrist where a long, pale scar was. It contrasted sharply with the rest of his tanned arm. Charlie could not talk anymore then that – at least at this time. He was too weak…too tired.

Seeing the young man on the verge of unconsciousness, Locke laid him down again on the cave floor. "You rest a bit here, Charlie. I'll go outside and see if I can find Jack. He'll know how to treat you." he said soothingly. He brushed a lock of hair out of the young man's face. "You hang in there, Charlie. Don't you dare to give up." With a last look at the pale youngster, he walked out of the cave, in hope to find the doctor.

Charlie nodded his head again. It was a slow and erratic movement. He shook from cold and from the kicking movements that were common with withdrawal. His face was scrunched up in agony. Charlie felt so much pain, he slowly let himself detach and his mind, along with the pain, floated into a world where there was numbness and relief. It was a world that was hard to get out of because sometimes one doesn't want too.

Meanwhile, Jack Shepard ran through the forest. Where were they? The two of them had been gone all night and the brunette surgeon was worried. Jack knew that Charlie and Locke went hunting together many times, but never for twelve hours in a row. Something was wrong. He knew it.

When Kate Austin saw that Jack ran into the forest, she decided to go after him. He was way further than Kate in the forest, but she believed that she'd find him in time. Kate was worried about Locke and Charlie too, especially the latter. She had talked to Claire a while ago, and Claire had told her about Charlie's strange behavior. Claire was worried about him, but couldn't go look for him, because she didn't want to leave her son alone. Therefore, Kate decided to talk to Jack about it. That conversation led to the running into the forest thing, but of course, he wanted Kate to stay put. Kate huffed mentally and shook her head. Men.

"Dammed-it, where did they go," Jack cursed as he stopped. The doctor wiped his brow as he looked around. The man scanned with a clinical eye the ground, trying to see if there were any disturbances – there was one. It was one of Charlie's bandages he wore more for look then to keep a wound covered. He bent and picked it up.

The bushes behind him ruffled as Kate appeared. She seemed a bit out of breath. Coming to a stop in front of Jack, she cocked her head to a side and smirked. "What? You thought you were rid of me?" she said teasingly. Then, turning serious, she looked at what Jack was holding with a frown. "Any ideas where they might be yet?" she asked.

Jack looked up at Kate. He frowned and pressed his lips together. The doctor was in no mood to joke. "No clue at all," he said irritably, "This is the only clue to where they could be. Do you see anything mi..." There was a rustle. Jack stood up quickly. He grabbed the gun he had stuffed in his belt and aimed, but did not shoot.