Alex gets the shock of her life.

Walt woke up early in the morning in pitch blackness. He tried to move, but yes, this was real; he truly was chained hand and foot to that bed. He planned to continue convincing the Others and Alex that he had lost the will to fight, but being unable to do anything for several hours at a time could drive him crazy and cause him to mess up. He extended his arms, and swung them over his head as far as the chains would allow. This wasn't very satisfying; he could not bring his hands close enough to touch each other, and moving his arms wide apart was more uncomfortable, and too reminiscent of the horrible spread-eagled experience. At least no water or anything else was dripping on him now.

But there was something else he could do. He inhaled deeply, puffing out his chest as much as possible. The effect was maximized with his upper arms extended straight out from his body and his elbows bent at right angles. He proceeded to hold his breath for many seconds. In the course of doing so, he pulled on the chains, causing his biceps to flex, while clenching his fists, gritting his teeth, and glaring upward into the darkness. The act gave him a good feeling, like releasing some pent-up emotions. He could act like the little tough guy when no one could see him. It may not have been much, but as he slowly exhaled, he determined that this was enough of a release to get him through the day.

Walt fell back asleep, and a couple hours later he woke up when Alex entered the room. She unlocked the manacles and asked,

"How did you sleep?"

"Not the best, but okay. Does it matter? " Walt responded in a tired voice.

Alex had to admit, "I guess it doesn't now. The Others were quite clear on your sleeping arrangements for the time being. But I'm glad you were able to get some sleep."

They settled into what had been their usual daily routine for most of the past month. However, Walt was exceptionally quiet, barely acknowledging Alex's existence and not saying anything at meals. Alex put up with it for a couple days, attributing it to Walt's recent unpleasant experiences, but the silence became too much for her.

"Are you feeling well enough to talk now? You've been awfully quiet the past few days. For some time I've had this feeling that there was something you wanted to tell me."

"I have come to the conclusion that it's best to keep my thoughts to myself. That way we won't get into any more trouble."

"You think I'll repeat whatever you say to the Others. I understand that, and that used to be the case, but things are different now. After seeing what they've done to you, I can avoid telling them things I don't want them to now. You've inspired me to fight back, but I'm well aware we still have to be very careful. We have to work together in this."

It was encouraging to hear Alex talk that way, but Walt was still going to play it safe. "Maybe later, when I feel I'm up to talking more," was his ambivalent reply. Now he was thinking that this would be a good time to inform Alex about Danielle's existence on the island. But he would have to do it in a way where Alex was convinced he was telling the truth. If she thought he was lying it would be more bad news for him. Perhaps there was some way for her to think she was forcing the truth from him.

Alex could understand Walt's reluctance, so she let the matter drop. It occurred to her that she might be able to force him to talk while he was chained to his bed, say by tickling him, but that would be just plain wrong. That would put her on a level with the Others, and he would never trust her after that.

As luck would have it, a few days later an opportunity came. While Walt was hacking away high on a wall with the pickaxe, a large chunk of rock dislodged and almost hit him on the head. He twisted violently to get out of the way, but in the process wrenched his back. The injury wasn't obvious at first, probably due to his youth, but became evident after dinner, when he had sat still for the better part of an hour. He was in obvious pain when he stood up, and had to tell Alex what happened.

"I'm afraid it will take more than a back rub to fix that," said Alex. "I will get something for your back while you get ready for bed." Alex departed, and went to the laboratory. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for. She selected a bottle of a pain-killing cortisone solution, and then slyly took a bottle of sodium pentathol, an old truth serum but still effective when the subject was not aware of its presence. She mixed the two solutions in a test tube, and filled a large syringe with the mixture. She also brought a bottle of iodine and a cotton swab, and returned to Walt's room, where he was sitting glumly on the edge of his bed.

"You need to be on your stomach for this," informed Alex. "Can you stretch out; it will make this easier."

Having to keep up his act, Walt obediently rolled over and extended his arms and legs. Once his wrists and ankles were clamped, he scooted up as far as he could. Having his arms bent as much as possible, at just about right angles, was his most comfortable position on his stomach as well as his back. Then he turned his head to one side, again to be as comfortable, or perhaps more accurately the least uncomfortable, as possible.

Alex moved her hand over Walt's back, asking him where it hurt the most. When he indicated the spot, near the middle of his back and a little to one side, she took the cotton swab and applied a generous amount of iodine over it. Then she told Walt, "This will hurt some, but it won't be nearly as bad as those other injections." Having given the warning, she injected him with the full contents of the syringe.

Walt grimaced, but the pain was nothing compared to those injections that made him sensitive to otherite and may have included some kind of growth hormone, that the Others had devised, and it only lasted a second or two. Then Alex was rubbing his back, and suddenly not only was there no pain at all, it felt very good. This time the massage was lasting a long time. Walt was powerless to do anything about it but he didn't care. In fact, the reason for the length of this rubdown was for the truth serum to take effect. Alex went over Walt's arms and legs, figuring that the more his body was relaxed, the quicker and more reliable his answers would come. Walt was expecting to fall asleep soon when he heard Alex asking,

"Now you have something important to tell me. What is it?"

Walt was experiencing some strange feeling. He had to answer, and he had to tell the truth. Half asleep, he had a vague idea of what was going on, and still wanted to be convincing, trying to withhold the information about Danielle. So with slurred speech he came up with an unexpected truthful response:

"I …aah … I'm growing fast again. … I need … a bigger loincloth."

Alex was startled at that answer, but soon recovered. In a gentle voice, she stated, "Okay, but there is something else, more important."

"You … your …aah …" Walt trailed off.

Alex tried another approach: "I'll make you a new loincloth if you tell me."

By now the serum had taken its full effect, and Walt was compelled to tell, even without that last generous offer. "Your mother … is on the island."

This was exceptionally difficult for Alex to believe, and she wouldn't have if it weren't for the truth serum. She would have to confirm this. "The Others told me my parents died when I was a baby."

"No … The Others lied to you. Danielle … I saw her once … hair looks just like yours … face looks like yours … She said her baby was taken … by the Others … sixteen years ago."

"What about my father?"

"Sorry, … your mother's been alone … all this time." Walt was barely aware of what he was saying, under the influence of the serum and the backrub. He thought he had accomplished his task, and given the circumstances could pretend not remembering what he just told Alex. Then he fell asleep for real.

Alex was stunned. Walt had to be telling the truth. Not only under the influence of the drug, but it made sense that he wanted to keep that information to himself, for fear of reprisal from the Others. The Others certainly wouldn't want Alex to know her mother was alive, up there somewhere. Now it was she who would have to keep the secret, but she was determined to do so. The Others hadn't been questioning her so much now that they were convinced Walt's will had been broken. The tables had been turned; now Alex was anxious to get to the outside world again, but would not be getting help from Walt, who was too intimidated to try. She would have to try to get him on her side without making him think she was trying to trap him.

The next day, Walt pretended not to remember any of the questioning. When he found a new, larger loincloth in his room when he returned from work, he simply said, "Um, thanks, the ones I have are getting a little tight. Guess I'm still growing pretty fast? Does this mean the Others think I'm behaving well enough again, and I'll get another one this size tomorrow – one to wear while the other is washed and dried?"

Alex just replied, "Yes." She was convinced Walt didn't remember telling her about her mother, and that reconfirmed her impression that Walt was truthful. And perhaps he was showing a spark of life with these questions, even though he now was expressionlessly working in the mines all day and readily submitting to being chained up each night. The routine was becoming too firmly established for Alex's liking. She would have to find a way to end it, but it would take time.