Sawyer
Black
Rock
Charlie,
Locke, Other
"Did you find me my miracle?"
"'course I did", the Southerner replied, a broad smile crossing his face. He got closer to Locke to hand him the vial with antidote. But before he reached the hunter a fourth party revealed himself.
Turning around he faced the stranger. He couldn't make out the features of the man's face, since he was shielding of the entrance with his body and with that most of the light that lit up the dark insides of the ship. But the voice didn't sound familiar and Sawyer was pretty sure that this wasn't one of their fellow castaways. Just like the French chick.
Getting the obvious conclusion the Southerner raised an eyebrow and slowly took a few steps closer to Locke and Charlie. They weren't in a state to protect themselves from peril strangers, so he had to do it for them. Besides, he never gave away the opportunity to a good fight.
When the man showed the vial in his own hands all of Sawyer's doubts ebbed away; he was now one hundred percent sure this man was an ally of the crazy French chick. How else could he get his hands on her stuff?
Creeping a little closer to the other two he quietly twisted the lit of his own vial and shoved the antidote in Locke's mouth. By now he was fairly certain the boar hunter was the only one being poisoned; whatever happened to Charlie it couldn't be solved with the antidote.
He just hoped the antidote would do its job fast. Sawyer knew he might needed John to defeat the stranger.
Clenching his teeth and narrowing his eyes Sawyer spit his words in the man's direction.
"She just happened to give you that? How convenient. Get the hell outta here, you and your crazy French chick!"
Charlie
Black
Rock
Locke,
Sawyer, Other
Charlie looked surprised at Locke when he actually started to play the game. Seriously wondering, if it was the poison that so drastically changed the hunter.
When he saw Sawyer running back into the room he sighed of relief. For a brief moment he thought that the French woman, with all her weapons and jungle expertise, would capture the Southerner and with that all hope that he and Locke could be healed.
Another man quickly joined Sawyer at the entrance of the ship and Charlie figured it to be the doctor. But he was wrong. Instead it was another gentle voice and the former rockgod was still certain he was there to help them. Until the Southerner crept closer to them, quickly gave Locke the antidote and spilled hatred words towards the stranger.
But Charlie wasn't certain that was fair. This man sounded truly sincere and offered much needed aid. Why turning that down without hearing the man out?
"What the bloody hell are you doing?", he snapped in Sawyer's direction. But his voice sounded weak and got lost before reaching the Southerner.
Other
Black
Rock
Sawyer,
Locke, Charlie
The Southern man spat some sort of insult at him, though it did not penetrate his hearing as he was busy assessing the situation between the older and youngest males there. The antidote the rugged, blonde, taller man had shoved into the older mans mouth seemed to have done the trick to whatever poison had been flowing through his veins - and already he saw colour returning to the man's cheeks.
He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow at Sawyer, his mouth perked up in an amused smile.
"I can't say I'm on that good a term with the French woman, she merely shared with me information about your whereabouts, and instructed me to give you this antidote, which I must say, seems to have done the job."
Locke
Black
Rock
Sawyer,
Charlie, Other
The precious feeling of his lungs taking oxygen in made him feel energised once more, the antidote given to him immediately taking effect on him, the pressure in his chest decreasing as well as the splitting pain in his head. He closed his eyes and waited until he could collect his thoughts and assess the situation he was aware was unfolding.
During this time, images flashed into his mind of the days events. The sound of Charlie hitting the ground below looped and replayed in his mind, a disgusting mixture of his crumpled body and dust scattering the area settling in his mind, making his face twitch.
The need to feel wanted and to do something that would tip the weights had always been an important part of John Locke's life, and the plan of searching for a signal on the Island had seemed such a brilliant plan. Not foolproof however, and they had both paid the price. Antidote could heal poison, but they would have a hard time of healing and explaining things when it came to Charlie. And once again, the guilt ensued, unrelentless and painful as ever.
Opening his eyes, he looked to Charlie and nodded his head, more to himself and rose from the ground, stepping in front of Sawyer slightly.
"I think my friend here is suspicious of you. I'm hoping for a name and then we can talk, how does that sound?"
Sawyer
Black
Rock
Locke,
Other (Charlie)
The Southerner did not appreciate the tone the man in front of him was using; it sounded disparaging and contemptuous and was only adding to Sawyer's suspicion.
Narrowing his eyes further with each word the stranger brought out, he slowly moved closer to Locke and Charlie --till his body entirely shielded them off from danger. His right hand automatically slid behind his back, ready to grab a hold of the comforting metal of defence.
"You do not want to mess with me", he warned through clenched teeth, before his fingers tightly embraced the steel grip of the fire gun.
However, before revealing the weapon and aiming at the smirking man in front of him, a shadow cast over his sight: John Locke had stepped in between him and the deceitful enemy.
"What are you doing?", Sawyer hissed in the hunter's direction, not only confused but even more so annoyed with this sudden change in the course of events.
But the man ignored his query and barely seemed to notice his nuisance at all. Instead Locke turned his attention to the stranger, his tone of voice indicating he trusted the man and they were merely having a pleasant chat.
Charlie
Black
Rock
(Locke,
Sawyer, Other)
The weak inaudible accusation spat in the Southerner's direction had taken the last of Charlie's strength. The tremendous blood loss and the overall impact of the pain and wounds caused by the disastrous fall of the mountain had taken their obvious toll on the small British man.
Being the only one still crouched down on the half rotten floors of the slave ship he barely noticed the verbal fight going on a little further away. Instead all he could hear -or rather, feel- was the loud thumping at the back of his head. Which each blatant pound the pain his body was enduring increased, until it reached almost unbearable heights.
The former rockgod slowly closed his eyes, the vague outlines of the three arguing man slowly fainting into darkness, wishing for nothing more than the torture to be over with.
Other
Black
Rock
Locke,
Sawyer (Charlie)
He let the smile slip from his face as the man stood and asked him for a name. Only able to stand and gape at this question, he soon collected himself, and let the grin return to his face.
"If I give you my name, you'll stop with the suspicious look?" He asked, his gaze directed at the man who had been quick to defend the other two. His eyes dropped to the younger man whose eyes had recently closed, his mouth open, and chest still rising up and down, though rather softly and slowly, and raised an eyebrow.
The one who had addressed him, the older man, continued to stare at him, something about his look made him think of spotlights, the burn and isolation of the lights shining down on him.
"Ethan Rom."
Locke
Black
Rock
Ethan,
Sawyer (Charlie)
Locke took Ethan's hand and gave it a brief shake, a false smile on the hunters face giving the man false hope. Two things niggled away at him as he released the man's hand and took a step back.
The first was he had been out of it when Ethan had entered the scene, and hadn't quite heard how he had addressed Sawyer. Thinking about it, Sawyer didn't seem like the sort of man who misjudged somebody, especially a man cut from the same cloth, and if he had began to shield him and Charlie, and then the Southerner must have felt something was wrong with this new man.
The second was the less obvious thing about the man, his name. By this, he did not mean "Ethan sounds like the character of Mission Impossible." No that wasn't quite the case; it was what the name spelt. Used to watching early TV quiz shows, John Locke was used to re-arrange words, formulating calculations and doing other seemingly pointless things that he had known would one day come in handy.
The anagram spelt; Other Man.
"Ethan, pleasures ours." Locke greeted, with a false smile on his face. "Excuse me."
Walking to Sawyer, he took the younger one by the shoulder and directed him to Charlie, shielding their backs from Ethan.
"We need a plan."
Sawyer
Black
Rock
Locke,
Ethan (Charlie)
Suspiciously taking in the conversation going on in front of him, Sawyer unnoticeable observed "Ethan Rom" and his almost convincing soothing voice. Too bad for him that the Southerner knew better than to fall for a superficial bittersweet tone from a stranger on an already peculiar island in the middle of the Pacific.
Instead he kept a close eye on the man's movements and looked for places in Ethan's dirty and raged clothes where he might be hiding a fire weapon, or even one of the tranquiliser guns the French chick so conveniently carried around in the jungle.
There simply had to be a catch to this friendly manner. His expertise as a con man had taught Sawyer one thing: no stranger was ever to be trusted when acting indisputable nice --especially not right after the attack of a certain unstable French woman.
When Locke excused himself the Southerner finally saw his chance to speak his doubts out loud; just not loud enough for the Ethan guy to hear. Following Locke he took a few steps away from the new man, though glancing over his shoulder, he made sure to let the guy know he was keeping a close eye on him --even when having his back turned towards him and being a seemingly helpless victim to the man's inexplicable games.
"Hell yeah we need a plan!", he snapped at Locke, his annoyance from before still seeping through his suppressed voice. His eyes narrowed and focussed on the hunter, not even remotely aware of the unconscious British man laying on the floor before him.
"Like a plan how the hell we're gonna get out of this friggin' ghost ship...", Sawyer continued, his whispering voice sounding hurried."What with that Ethan guy standing between us and the exit and the French chick, and God knows how many other allies, hidden in the bushes outside with their little poison darts!"
Quickly glancing over his shoulder, to reassure himself they weren't suddenly surrounded by a crowd of wild Indians, he finished " 'Cause guess what? We're in a fucking trap!"
