Title: Conflict with the Others

Rating: T for violence and some generally unpleasant scenes. The Others are not nice people.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of its characters. That may or may not be a good thing, but major characters would have a greater life expectancy, and Walt would appear a lot more often in Season 2.

Summary: This story takes place after the events at the end of Exodus. Do not read if you have not seen the season finale.

I want this to be significantly different from all the other post-Exodus stories, many of which are quite good. Consequently, in this story Walt will grow rapidly, to correspond to the fact that the actor playing him grows a year during a Lost Season, which is only about six weeks. This will also feature a different Alex from any I've seen.

Walt is taken to his new living quarters.

As the motorboat sped away from the raft that had just been ignited, Walt was yelling "Dad! Dad! Dad!" at his father who was treading water, and helpless to assist him. Walt screamed until his voice gave out, and the flaming raft disappeared beyond the night horizon. Extreme jubilation at the prospect of being rescued had turned into utter disconsolation at the realization that he was irretrievably kidnapped in just a couple of minutes.

For the Others, their moment of triumph had nearly been ruined. One of the raft crew had tried to shoot them, and it took a very well aimed shot to hit his arm and knock the gun out of his hand. They had captured the boy whom they needed to cure their sickness, but knew that in order for his mental capabilities to be used to their advantage, he must not be in a state of extreme agitation that would be caused by the death of his father or his friends. Their plan would only work so long as Walt had hope of seeing Michael and the other castaways again. But the Others did need a good head start, and had to incapacitate the raft. They had to take a chance kidnapping him like this; there simply was no other way.

In a state of shock, and vastly outnumbered by the kidnappers, the Others, armed with guns, Walt was powerless to stop them from ripping off his life jacket, and then binding his ankles with rope. One of the Others sat across from Walt with an evil look on his face and holding another rope. Walt expected him to tie his wrists together as well, but for some unfathomable reason he didn't. The boat sped back to the island, and circled around the west side until it was a few meters from a sandy shore on the southwest side of the island. The Other then yanked off Walt's shoes and socks from his bound feet. Next, sitting next to Walt, a second Other, who could have been the first one's twin, grabbed Walt's hands, holding them straight over his head. To Walt's consternation the first Other pulled Walt's shirt off over his head, and only then did he tie Walt's hands. This Other seized Walt's shirt from the open neck with both hands, and gave it a good rip.

"What are you doing?" yelled an apprehensive Walt.

"You're supposed to be smart, let's see you figure that out. And it's not that we're perverts. Now be quiet, and hold still."

Walt was too frightened to move as the first Other then took his knife and cut off Walt's knee-length shorts uncomfortably high on his thighs, and tore those as well. "This should be enough."

Walt was puzzled as he watched as the first Other jumped out of the boat, and scattered Walt's clothes along the beach. Then he disappeared from sight, apparently headed up some trail still carrying Walt's torn striped shirt. A few minutes later he returned, carrying a flashlight he had all along, but not the shirt. He boarded the boat, and they took off again. Emotionally spent and physically exhausted, Walt could only just sit there and await his unhappy fate. On this last part of the boat ride they circled almost halfway around the island to the north shore. Dawn was just breaking, and Walt could see that they rode into a cave whose entrance was covered over by hanging leafy tree branches and assorted bushes. Then Walt understood.

"They'll look for me. And my dog will find my scent, and lead them to the wrong place. It'll look like I put up a fight, and they'll be looking for me in completely the wrong place. Just like people looked for our plane in the wrong place." Walt wasn't speaking to anyone in particular; he was just announcing a newly discovered fact in a voice rather devoid of emotion. There was no way he was leaving an identifiable scent for Vincent the way he was transported into the cave. The realization made him shiver, or perhaps he was a little cold. He didn't expect his captors to do anything about that, and didn't ask.

"See, the kid ain't so dumb."

The boat moved along a channel, and docked. There were a total of four Others on the boat; besides the twins there was an older man, who was apparently the leader, and a middle-aged woman who had been at the helm and who threw the Molotov cocktail that exploded on the raft. They all disembarked. Walt's feet were untied, and he was escorted along a corridor, and down a long flight of stairs. He was no longer shivering, but instead started perspiring, as the temperature seemed to rise with each step downward. The increased heat reminded Walt that he had been getting quite thirsty. Once at the bottom of the steps, they went along another corridor, which really was more of a mine tunnel, and shoved Walt into a cave-like room. This room was furnished with a small table and two heavy iron chairs, but what stood out was a bed, no more than a mattress on a frame, that was outfitted with four manacles connected to chains that were attached to the legs of the bed frame. Walt involuntarily gulped as he saw that last unusual piece of furniture.

Next, Walt was shown a connecting cave room, which would be his bathroom. In a far corner was an object that resembled an outhouse seat. On an opposite wall was a table with a large bowl of water on it. A makeshift pipe led to the center of the bowl. By pulling up a small flat piece of metal, sort of like a gate, inserted into the pipe, water would flow solely under the influence of gravity. Apparently that would have to serve as a source of running water. Besides the bowl there was a glass of water.

"You must be thirsty after your trip; here."

Walt hesitated.

"Geez, it's not poisoned; if we wanted you dead we'd have just shot you," one of the Others observed. "There'd be no point in going to all that trouble of getting you."

Walt's throat had been uncomfortably dry for some time, and in his current state of mind either the logic made sense, or he didn't care any more. He didn't trust the Others, but it was obvious that they wanted him alive. He gulped down the water in seconds. It slaked his thirst, but then he felt exceptionally drowsy. But that made sense, right? He had very little sleep during the night, and had gone through an awful ordeal. Actually, Walt would learn something about a knockout drug known as chloral hydrate some time in the future. For the present, he used his remaining strength to stagger to his bed, and lost consciousness just as he collapsed on it.