Author's notes: Thanks to AM8---- for some encouraging words that shall enable me to bring this to a proper conclusion in the not too distant future.
Walt meets up with Locke, who gets a nice surprise as a result,and Claire gives Walt a long overdue haircut.
Jack, Walt and Michael left the caves; the first looking to treat Sayid, and the last two to look for Claire for the much needed haircut. Jack quickly located Sayid, who was describing the rescue expedition to Shannon, and insisted on seeing the Iraqi's bullet wound.
"It is just a flesh wound, not too serious," responded Sayid, showing Jack the shoulder.
"Perhaps you are right, but it doesn't hurt to be cautious."
Shannon gave Sayid a look implying the doctor was right, and soon Jack was treating the long, wide scrape. Jack cleaned the wound and then disinfected it with alcohol. He administered a single shot of antibiotics.
"You are probably right, but there should be no question you are fine now."
Meanwhile, outside Walt realized something. "Where's Mr. Locke? He doesn't know I'm back yet. I want to see him before it gets dark."
There was a momentary silence. Then Hurley spoke up.
"He goes off by himself a lot. I can show you the general area."
Michael hesitated, but realized this meant a lot to Walt.
"Fine, why don't you show us, Hurley? Walt's hair can't grow that much in a few minutes, right?" Then directed at Walt, "Then we can find you some decent clothes. I suppose you couldn't pull a shirt over that stylish 'Fro of yours." Michael couldn't resist scratching Walt's head.
Hurley led the father and son down a trail, calling out Locke's name from time to time.
Locke had been sitting on a fallen tree, holding his crutches and meditating. He didn't feel like being with anyone, but Hurley's voice was too insistent to ignore. Eventually Locke responded, "All right, Hurley, what is so important?"
"There is someone who wishes to see you."
Hurley stepped back, by Michael, allowing Walt to advance in the direction of the voice. Walt saw Locke sitting on the log, not even looking up, perhaps feeling sorry for himself. But that was going to change.
"Hello, Mr. Locke. It's good to see you again."
Locke's head snapped up, his face betraying shock. He had to blink his eyes, not believing the sight in front of him. A boy of thirteen or fourteen with a comically gigantic Afro and a well developed set of muscles plainly visible due to his costume, a brief animal skin loincloth. The voice was too deep, and he was far too tall, but the facial features were unmistakably Walt's.
"Walt? Is that really you?"
"Yes, Mr. Locke, I'm back. How are you?" Walt looked with some sadness at the crutches.
"Now that you're back I'm fine." Locke got up on his crutches to confirm the point. "Maybe you heard, my legs were broken in an avalanche when the Others dynamited the region where we were tapping those messages through the rockslide. That was very clever of you, tapping the letters according to their place in the alphabet. But I was so afraid of the consequences for you after that. What did they do to you? It's looks like you've been stretched on a rack!"
Walt couldn't help but smile and then he repeated the description of his fate. "You're not that far off. They did stretch me out on a table for several hours, and tried to break me with their stupid water torture. I couldn't move my arms or legs at all, and water kept dripping on me here, here, and here." Walt tapped his forehead between his eyes, the center of his chest, and his navel. "I almost did lose it, but something you said got me through it. You mentioned picturing things in my mind's eye. I had to concentrate on something to stop from going mad, and pictured myself as a comic book character, helplessly spread-eagled and wearing only this loincloth; or actually a smaller one that I outgrew. Somehow I found the image so hilarious I passed out laughing. And when I woke up it was over."
Locke was flabbergasted by the story. "I … am glad that little talk helped you out. But I'm so sorry that happened to you."
Walt continued, "There's more. Actually I was working in the mines all day, extracting some mineral the Others said they needed, and was chained hand and foot to a bed at night. But there was this girl named Alex there, who turned out to be the Frenchwoman's daughter, and we helped each other after that. She's with her mother now. Also, the knife throwing practice came in handy. Dad and I each had to take out one of the Others that way. They're now all tied up down there."
"I think that's enough for now, Walt. You can tell me more if you like later. Looks like it's about time to get back, and have a good evening meal."
With his spirits much higher than a half hour before, Locke hobbled along behind Walt as they rejoined Michael and Hurley, and then realized he had forgotten his crutches. "My legs!" he exclaimed, causing the other three to turn around in amazement. "They're practically healed!" Locke tried to figure out why he didn't need his crutches any more. "Walt, just seeing you and hearing your tale must have done something for me. Thank you."
As they got back to the caves, the word apparently had gotten out that someone was due for a haircut. Claire was standing by a chair with a scissors in her hand. Walt put on a bit of show as he plopped down in the seat with a look of disappointment. Claire was willing to go along with the gag.
"Now why on earth could anyone possibly think you need a haircut?"
"Oh, Dad says now that I'm back in civilization, I have to start wearing shirts again, and I can't pull one over my head with my hair like this."
Claire gave a little laugh. "Parents can be so unreasonable at times, can't they?"
"You're darn right! I've been comfortable like this for a long time. Oh wait, you've been a mother for like, four months now? I didn't mean…"
"That's all right." Claire laughed again. "Aaron has had about as much use for new clothes as you have, apparently. But it's time to get started. What will it be? Do you like Mr. Locke's hairstyle? Perhaps a nice Mohawk. Or maybe you prefer dreadlocks?"
"I'd look cool in dreads! But maybe Dad would freak out. Why don't we just make it an even centimeter all around this time? We can try the dreads next time. I don't know; my hair might still grow fast. Just save some of it for Alex; she really likes my hair this way."
Claire set about the task. With surprising efficiency, her snips with the scissors methodically sent long, curly strands of black hair fluttering to the ground. In fifteen minutes Walt's hair was looking just like it did the day he left on the raft. Walt saved some strands of hair for Jack as requested, and wrapped a bunch in a big leaf for Alex.
As Michael looked at the finished result, Walt commented,
"You know, Dad, I really don't want to be taller than you. Some day, probably, but not yet."
Michael scratched Walt's now centimeter-long hair. Then Sawyer came along, with a shirt and a pair of shorts from his stash. He didn't have any shoes in Walt's size, but Walt's feet had grown so tough by now that was no big deal. The thought crossed Sawyer's mind that he should ask Walt for something in exchange, but that just seemed too inappropriate. For the first time in one hundred ten days Walt dressed for dinner. The clothes were not very comfortable, but it was something he could easily put up with after all he had been through. Everyone gathered around to celebrate his return for their most festive meal since the plane crash.
Afterward, there was discussion on what to do about the Others. There was the most support for locking them up somehow, perhaps in the underground labyrinth. But as the sun had set, a final decision could wait for the next day.