In the End
Chapter Eleven
Author's Notes: You'll recognize a lot of the hatch stuff from season two, but it's not the same thing. In fact, you'll probably think it's exactly like the hatch set- um, so I guess maybe some season two spoilers from here on out- but it's a different conspiracy thing. "Begin the Beguine" lyrics thanks to: http/ They're confusing on song credits, so I'm not sure who to credit it to, but I don't own it.
Chapter Eleven:
The tunnel ahead of them was dark and damp, and a distant noise of what sounded like a leaky faucet could be heard. Neither Sayid nor Boone could be certain how long it was or wide it was, but when Boone shone his flashlight into it, it could be estimated to be maybe thirty feet long.
"You just found it here?" Sayid whispered, now paranoid that someone had been listening in.
"Yeah," Boone said proudly, "cool, huh?"
"We should go," Sayid disagreed, already turning around to climb back up the ladder.
"Are you kidding me?" Boone exclaimed.
"You come back and this place just happens to be here?" Sayid whispered, glancing around nervously.
"Exactly!" Boone hissed. "We're supposed to go in there! It's like..a sign or something!"
"You've been around Locke too much," Sayid commented wisely.
Boone sighed.
"Well, I'm going in there," he announced, mind made up.
"We don't know how sturdy this is," Sayid pointed out.
As if he had already planned what to do in this case ahead of time, Boone quickly reached up with his flashlight, and tapped hard on the tunnel's ceiling. No dirt fell from the ceiling, the thing was as hard as rock. Curious, Boone once again let his flashlight illuminate the tunnel, until Sayid's hand fell on it, pulling it down towards the floor. Boone looked up at him.
"Keep it low," he instructed.
Boone nodded, and stepped into the tunnel. Sighing, Sayid followed, knowing he'd have no choice.
At the Beach
"We found it right about here," Charlie said, leading the blonde towards the shoreline.
"I'm Christopher by the way," the man said as they walked.
"Cool," Charlie replied, "can I call you Chris?"
"No," Christopher said, giving Charlie and Claire a smile, "Christopher's fine."
Claire shivered as he smiled at them. She didn't trust him, this Christopher. For one, of all her time spent at the beach, Claire couldn't recall seeing him or even hearing his name. Then just this morning, he was found in the jungle, though Claire couldn't remember seeing anyone heading into it. Maybe he was just lived at the caves, Claire told herself. Of course, Kate hadn't recognized him either, and over the past few months she had spent a fair amount of time at the caves. Months. God, Claire couldn't believe how long it had been since the crash, since meeting Charlie, since Ethan, since everything. Glancing over towards Charlie, who was now introducing himself, and saw that he didn't seem bothered by Christopher's presence at all.
"And this is-" Charlie hesitated before introducing Claire.
"Claire," she offered.
"Australian," Christopher commented.
There was that smile again. The second time he shot it, Claire realized that somehow, she recognized it.
"Had a friend who lived there once," Christopher continued, "ever heard of a Ryon O'Daire?"
Was he really expecting her to be able to pick out one friend of his out of the millions of people in Australia?
"No," Claire replied, "sorry."
"Shame," Christopher said, "great guy. He's Irish but he's from Canada. Peculiar family. They had this closet door they'd never let me look in."
"You two were friends then?"
Charlie sounded very interested in the story.
"Sort of," Christopher replied, smiling sadly.
The empathetic vibes seemed to bounce off of Charlie, whose excitement about this new friend died gradually. After replying, Christopher said no more, and Claire welcomed the silence gratefully.
"Here," Charlie said, stopping where he had found the bottle, "this is where I found it."
Christopher bent down and examined the sand below him. Claire glanced towards Charlie, who shrugged as Christopher scooped up a handful of sand, and then let it seep through his fingers, which looked rough and callused. He then looked out to sea, as if he was expecting to see something there.
"Weird," Christopher whispered to himself.
"Something wrong?" Claire asked inquisitively.
Christopher shook his head and stood up.
"No," he said, "it's just weird, isn't it? A bottle just washed up out of nowhere? Where could it have come from? And why this side of the island?"
"This side?" Charlie asked.
"The south side," Christopher replied, "it's not like anyone out there has anywhere to go."
"Those numbers are weird too," Charlie cut in, "think they mean anything?"
There came that smile again.
"Maybe someone just really liked their fortune cookie," Christopher said thoughtfully, "mind if I stay with you guys for awhile?"
"No, go ahead," Charlie replied happily, "that's if, of course-"
He glanced towards Claire, who shook her head.
"It's fine," she said quietly.
Truthfully she still didn't trust Christopher, but what was she supposed to say? Charlie gave Claire a pat on the shoulder, and smiled as he turned back to Christopher.
Down the Hatch
Boone's flashlight followed the tiny puddles to a fork in the road, at least twenty yards away from the entrance. One hallway turned to what looked like a room, while the other kept going forward, towards a door. Ignoring the room, Boone tried for the door, which seemed glued to the wall.
"It won't budge," Boone informed Sayid, who had been following behind them.
"Maybe it's not supposed to," Sayid said, eyes following Boone's flashlight as it examined the door, which was a dark solid wood.
Unlike doors, this one had no handle or crack just above the floor. To try and open it, Boone had to throw himself against it. Tired and sore, Boone gave up, and turned his attention to what was in fact, a room. The room was pitch black. From somewhere behind him water still dripped, which blended in well with Boone's slow, careful breaths.
Bringing the light off the floor, Boone watched as the beam bounced off the walls, displaying a row of shelves, that looked like stored everything from medicine to Shakespeare classics. There wasn't a light switch or light bulb in sight, not even at what looked like a computer desk. Curious, Boone stepped closer, stepping in a puddle along the way. He winced at the sound, which echoed in the room, and was followed by a crash behind him. Spinning around, Boone was startled to find Sayid laying on the ground, unconscious with a trail of blood that started from his forehead. Boone looked for a source of the crash, but could see nothing. Attention captivated by the crash, Boone never heard the footsteps behind him, or hand stretching out above his head.
At the Beach
Charlie was finally getting back to cleaning his fish, which was almost ready for cooking. Claire was reading some Stephen King novel she had borrowed from Alex, and Christopher was sitting in the sand in from of them, examining a small scar that was left behind from his leg troubles. With all the blood, the small scar seemed out of place, something that Claire wanted to- but of course didn't- discuss. A whistle broke what had once been a quiet atmosphere, and it didn't take long at all for Charlie to recognize the song.
"'Begin the Beguine'!" Charlie exclaimed.
Christopher raised an eyebrow.
"No offense," he said, "but I wouldn't expect someone your age to recognize a song like that."
"Well I'm proud to inform you that I'm very unlike most my age," Charlie said.
Claire rolled her eyes, and turned the page she was on, though she hadn't finished reading it. She couldn't of told what was going on in the novel if someone paid her. Claire was too preoccupied with Charlie, and the time he wasn't spending with her. Call her jealous, but Claire had grown used to having Charlie around, and never even considered the possibility of him just ignoring her like this.
"It brings back the sound of music so tender, it brings back a night of tropical splendor," Charlie sang, and Christopher joined in the verse after that.
"Get a room," Claire muttered bitterly, exasperatedly flipping the next page.
Charlie glared, though he didn't comment.
"So are you a big music fan?" Christopher asked after singing a few more lines.
"Are you kidding?" Charlie said, excited, as Claire sighed. "I was in a band, Driveshaft! We did some big tours in Europe. One hit wonders, you know?"
"I've heard of you guys," Christopher nodded, "I think I've got a few of your cds back home."
"Cool," Charlie said, beaming, "hey, if we ever get off of this place we should get together sometime."
"Sounds great."
Claire knew that it couldn't mean anything, but the way Christopher said 'sounds great' sent shivers down her spine, and once again the errie sense of dejavu from earlier came over her.
Down the Hatch
Boone fell to the ground with a groan, and watch through blurred vision as two boots stepped near him. In the shadow of his fallen light, he watched as a hand bent down. He flinched, preparing for another blow to the head, but instead the hand picked up the flashlight. Just before the hand was out of view, Boone noticed a scar on its wrist. A blinding light suddenly fell on him, and Boone let out a short cry of pain as he tried to shield himself from the light.
"Are you him?" A gruff voice asked.
"Wh-what?" Boone stuttered.
"Are you him?" The voice repeated.
"Am I who?"
What's this guy talking about? Boone thought. And what's with the lack of lighting?"
"You don't know?" The voice asked, sounding furious.
Feet began pacing in front of him, every now and then stepping in a small puddle of water.
"You don't know," the man asked again, though this time in a panicked realization, before he spat it out, ending his panic attack, "you don't know!"
"I don't know," Boone repeated hesitantly.
The guy was clearly very angry with him, and Boone hoped to come out of this with as less broken bones as possible.
"The code," the man said suddenly, "do you know the code?"
Boone blinked.
"Code?"
His reply came out slightly muffled, as his cheek was laying against the cold, concrete floor below. This was something else Boone found odd about the place: instead of being made of dirt like the caves, the floor to this place was an actual floor, made out of some kind of concrete or stone.
"The code!" The man exclaimed. "The code! Do you know the code?"
Boone searched his mind for a possible solution, and ended up feeling like an idiot. Of course. The code.
"The four, eight, fifteen thing?" Boone asked, thinking quickly to remember the number sequence.
"No!" The man hissed. "The code! The one that will..that will.."
"That will what?"
"Shut up!" The man shouted, voice shaking. "It's on a need to know basis and you..you don't need to know. If you don't know the code then you're not him.." the man sounded positively frightened, "and if you're not him then..then..who are you?"
"I'm-" Boone closed his mouth, thinking.
What if he could convince this guy that he was 'him', whoever 'him' was? But he couldn't think quick enough, and soon the face that belonged to the frightened voice was right in front of his own. The face made Boone shiver: it was frightening itself, white and pale, with another scar that ran across the cheek bone.
"Who the hell are you?" The face asked, eyes wide.
Before Boone was even given a chance to answer, the hand reached up again, and he blacked out.
In the Jungle
Though Alex had spent more time than most on the island had with Sawyer, at the moment she felt more distanced from him than she remembered being before. She figured this was due to the recent deaths, all of which had been people that both of them had considered friends. Tempted to lighten the mood, and take the conversation off death, Alex decided on a safe topic.
"Favorite food," she said.
Sawyer didn't seem to hear her at first, but after walking a few paces, he spoke up.
"What?" He said, sounding disgusted at the question.
"Favorite food," Alex repeated, "what's your favorite food?"
"You've got to be kidding me," Sawyer said with a snort.
"I'm not," Alex said, growing frustrated.
Why wouldn't he ever just talk?
"I'm not having this conversation," Sawyer declared flatly.
"Oh come one," Alex said, "it's simple."
"For one," Sawyer said, "I'm from the south, and your from those fancy rich towns, so you probably wouldn't know what I'm talking about. For another, this is pathetic, and I'm not that desperate for a conversation."
"Obviously not," Alex muttered bitterly.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
Alex crossed her arms and kicked at the ground.
"You're the psychic," Sawyer said mischievously a few paces later, "you tell me."
She opened her mouth to protest, but then Alex figured that if this was the closest thing to a conversation she was going to get with Sawyer, so be it.
"Turnip greens," Alex replied confidently, "you like turnip greens, and you got made fun for it when you were a kid. Your mom used to make them when you were little. You still like them, though you haven't eaten them since."
Sawyer was silent. Alex felt guilty for admitting knowing all of this, but it wasn't her fault. Scrawling, Sawyer seemed put in a bad mood, which lasted for the majority of their search.
"Smells like rain," Sawyer finally commented ten minutes later.
Alex snorted.
"You can't smell rain," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Are you kidding me?" Sawyer said with a laugh."
"Southerners," Alex muttered.
"Hey, I take that in offense," Sawyer said, and they both laughed. "Seriously, tell me it's not going to rain."
"It's going to rain," Alex admitted, sighing in defeat.
Sure enough, a quick five minutes later it began pouring, and soon Alex couldn't see what was right in front of her. She was sure that she had lost track of Sawyer, and there was no reply when she called his name Stopping before attempting a path uphill, Alex looked around desperately. A figure was walking towards her, but as Alex squinted to see it clearer, she knew it wasn't Sawyer. As the figure came into view, Alex saw that it was limping and clutching its left arm. The figure continued to stagger forward, and Alex gasped when she realized who it was:
Kyle.
"I thought I lost you," he called to her, sounding relief.
The sound of his voice made Alex shiver. Her mind told her to run, scream, move, do something, as he continued to move towards her, swaying heavily from one leg to the next, but Alex could only stand there. She was frozen in the rain as he neared her, as she allowed him to near her.
"I knew you wouldn't leave me," Kyle went on.
Alex felt her lower lip tremble, and a pit form in her stomach, returning to its normal hollow from a few days ago.
"That's one thing I've learned on this island," Kyle stumbled over an imaginary log, hand closing around his arm harder as he did, "to never lose faith."
Alex felt herself begin to shake. Her mind was spinning, and all she could think of was what was about to happen, or at least what was capable of happening, and for the first time in a long time, Alex prayed. She prayed for Sawyer to come back, for some method of defense- anything, anyone. Yet at the same time she prayed for Kyle, for him to come and end it for her, because she was just now able to say his name, to think it, without the slightest trace of fear or paranoia. Because now she was finally able to move forward, but there was nothing to move forward to. Because as much as she wanted it to all be over, she'd rather be pushed off the cliff than to jump off herself.
"But now it doesn't matter," Kyle went on, "because don't you see? We're meant to be together. We're the survivors. We-"
Bang.
Alex jumped, closing her eyes. When she forced herself to open them a few moments later, Alex saw what was now Kyle's dead body on the jungle floor, surrounded by a pool of blood. She shook and her lips turned blue in the cold as Alex stared at it, relieved yet horrified at what she was looking at. Suddenly a second figure stepped out from behind the tree, and bent down beside Kyle. It was Locke.
"He's dead," Locke confirmed.
Alex's form didn't change. She still stood, frozen and shivering, even as she felt another presence approach her from behind. And like that everything hit her. What was happening, what could've happened, what was stopped. And Alex didn't even bother looking for face or name when she was pulled into a hug. Recognition didn't even come until the tears did, when Alex realized she was crying into her mother's arms, something she never thought she'd ever get to do as a child. Alex gratefully accepted the hug, and after a few sobs, was able to calm into a quiet flow of tears. It was then Alex forced herself to look up, back at the body. Locke was picking him up as she did, and was careful not to meet her eyes. He then carried Kyle off to somewhere she didn't know, leaving only herself and her mother.
"Let's go back to camp," Danielle said quietly.
Alex nodded, completely forgetting that Sawyer was nowhere to be found. She stayed close by her mother as they walked off, though Danielle would never know that before the site was out of range, Alex turned, taking one look back.
Author's Note: Danielle murdered KyIe, if you didn't catch that. I was going to show her shooting him, but I decided against it. If you were watching this on screen, I probably would've shown Danielle shooting him, and her head slowly coming out from behind the rifle, but I couldn't do that from Alex's point of view, and I wanted the hug part in there. Don't worry, much happier times are to come, or at least for awhile. Sorry for the long wait, I've had a small case of writer's block. Also, sorry that this chapter was a little shorter than the others, but I wanted to leave plenty for later so that I can make this fic as long as possible. Thank you guys so much for the reviews! You guys rock!
Coming up next, on "In the End":
The happy times come, in a date between Jack and Kate. Okay, so it's not really a date, but it turns into one, unintentionally, of course. It should be a nice, light chapter to cover up the dark times from both the past and future.
Thanks again!
Until next time!
October Sky
