The van jolted perilously atop its squeaking axels and groaning wheels as it staggered unhurriedly uphill, sputtering out clouds of exhaust behind it. It traced a path along the winding, bumpy road leading through the outlands and toward a copse of unfelled bush that bordered the pylons. The Volkswagen careened around a sharp curve in the road on its uphill climb, sending some of the more curious wildlife fleeing into the safety of the brush. As the van reached the treeline and climbed the hilltop, baby-pink sunlight shone through the rugged treetops and into the open van windows.
Horace squinted in the bright light, twisting to look out the back windshield of the van at the path from which they had come. Phil adjusted himself nervously in the driver's seat, chewing absentmindedly on a half-smoked cigarette.
"Your arm's looking a lot better!" Horace pointed out cheerily.
"You're trying to change the subject. Don't you think you're moving too fast with her, man?"
Horace blinked, eyes quickly straying to the window to watch the shifting shadows and beams of sunlight through the bamboo that whizzed by.
"What, Amy?" He laughed, tugging at the collar of his jumpsuit. "We're—We're not moving anywhere." He affirmed, eyes sparkling good-naturedly.
Phil rolled his eyes. "Please. The two of you are like glue, man. If you aren't careful, we're gonna have some rumors around here before long."
Horace waved his hand as if to dispel the unspoken gossip. "Of course, there'll be rumors, but it's unavoidable when you have a bunch of folks in the same place." He explained. The mathematician adjusted his glasses and draped his arm over the open window of the van, breathing in the jungle air.
"'Sides, Phil, it's about time you got some rumors of your own going! What's the point in being here if you don't have a little fun?" He grinned cheekily.
Phil huffed bemusedly. "I have a girl at home, I gotta keep saying this every week." After Horace didn't answer except for a grin, he added, "you act like you don't believe me!"
Frustratedly, the security officer took the cigarette from out of his mouth and tossed it haphazardly out of the window, where it landed on a patch of dew-laden grass that lined the gravel road. Horace sat up to quickly look through the back windshield.
"I hope you're thinking of going back to pick that up," Horace mumbled, though his tone carried no malice. "LaFleur said—"
Phil's grip tightened around the sun-beaten steering wheel. "Is he all you talk about now? I don't wanna know what LaFleur said, I'm probably gonna hear it from him anyways."
"What's wrong with him? He's a great guy."
"You're just saying that because he saved your neck with Richard." Phil pointed out, a smug tone creeping into his voice, as though he was proud to know of such an event. "And he's bossy."
"I think leaderly is a more appropriate term." Horace corrected nobly.
"Leaderly—Is that even a real word?" Phil snickered.
"I don't know, I'm a mathematician not a—watch the curve!"
The van hit a bump and careened alarmingly close to a long, sloping drop-off, before the metal carriage swung the other way as Phil took them down a lesser-used branch of the road. The temperate bush obscuring the sunlight overhead transitioned into sparser vegetation and the occasional patch of bamboo.
Phil rolled his eyes, as if he were bothered by going out on a security call. It was unlikely it was anything, anyways. For all they knew, Straume could have sent them out on a bogus call so he and his buddies could hold up the place. The lanky security officer narrowed his eyes on the road ahead. It's not like Horace would give a damn anyways, he seemed enthralled with LaFleur's humble Sherriff act. Though, Phil had to admit he was itching for any chance to prove the new guards unfit to boss him around, and he couldn't wait to rub it in Horace's face when they got to the "breach in the fence," only to find nothing.
Finally, the van veered back out onto the main dirt road and hit the hill which carried it through a tunnel of brush, the branches weaving together overhead to form a natural arch. As they hit the bottom of the slope, the vegetation on either side of the road transitioned quickly into open air and long, scrubby grass on one side, the bottom of which sidled up against the pylons.
Now in full view of the fence, Phil found a less-steep area to deviate off the road and into the grass, fully content to park and let Horace exhaust himself looking for the nonexistent threat. As they came into view of the pylons, however, Horace jolted up in his seat. Overreacting, Phil dismissed it, too hungover and disinterested to care. Phil kicked back as the van rolled to a stop, fishing out another cigarette.
Horace sat up and whipped out his walkie with such force that it not only shook the carriage of the van but knocked the cigarette out of his hand as well. The rusted hinges whined as he kicked open the door, nearly falling over on his way out. Phil was tempted to roll his eyes, but suddenly a scream ripped through the air, a woman's scream. Fumbling with the keys, he kicked open his own door and stumbled out. Another scream tore into the peaceful jungle ambience and sent several songbirds flying away from their perches, desperate to escape the noise.
By the time Phil had slammed the van door shut, Horace was already standing in the tall, looming shadow of the potential threat, holding the walkie up to his mouth
"U-uhm… LaFleur? We have a problem."
The sound of distant swears were accompanied by the sound of a rack of shelves being bumped, and of several things falling over in the other room. A clattering alerted Miles, who spun around in his chair to see James stumbling out of the side room.
"Jungle cavalry?" He guessed, not awake enough to feel genuine concern. After a few days of being on the job, Miles was convinced nothing ever really happened here.
LaFleur continued to fumble with the zipper of his jumpsuit, trying to zip it up as quickly as humanly possible.
"Security breach at the east edge of the fence, get 'yer keys and go grab a van for me. Boss says we've got two intruders."
Miles stood up and stretched, shaking some of the pins-and-needles out of his right leg. "Intruders? Not teenage hooligans?"
LaFleur shrugged on the rest of his jumpsuit and clambered to attach all his tools to his belt. "Didn't give me any details. Boss sounded pretty worked up about it. Must'a been important for him to hang up on me like that."
Miles, who was decidedly not as worried as LaFleur, shuffled to get his own things from the faux-wood bench in front of the monitors, brushing some dust from the top of his walkie. "Hmph."
Fishing some keys out of his pocket, Miles shuffled unconcernedly toward the staircase. The cool draft coming from the outer corridor was a welcome relief from the stale air in the underground concrete box Horace called a "security center."
Jin turned to greet him from his seat at the front desk, occupying himself with the phonetic alphabet cards Juliet had made him. Miles returned his nod of greeting as he put up one hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight coming in through the window.
He threw a glance over his shoulder at Jin as he headed for the door. He seemed… weird. He and Juliet had been talking a lot.
Miles made his way through the sunlit lobby, listening with half-an-ear to the goings-on within the office as he passed by. The familiar sounds of hushed voices and typewriter clicks emanated from the other side of their shared wall. He paused to glance at himself in the inset mirror on said wall, frowning as he reached up to brush a cobweb out of his hair. Be nice to have some kinda mirror down there so I don't look like a damn clown comin' up onto the surface
He adjusted his jumpsuit and leaned in closer to the mirror, squinting at his reflection. He didn't consider himself a narcissist, sure, but—was there something moving in the mirror? Curiously, he lifted a finger and tapped the glass—once, then twice. He could feel the vibrations of the thick glass pane.
Tap, tap. He heard the clink of a fingernail tapping the glass from the other side, where the office was. Miles had barely enough time to realize what had happened when the doors to the stairwell swung open and James jogged out, blowing past him.
"Let's go Johnny Bravo, ain't got no time to fix yer look, we've got work to do." He halted abruptly right in front of the door, cursing as his eyes burned in the sunlight. Miles tore himself away from the mirror, keys in hand, and pushed out of the front door.
Immediately, a broiling-hot breeze hit him square in the face, like a wind straight out of an oven. The humidity in the air was palpable. At least in Encino, the heat wasn't as thick and choking. Squinting in the bright sunlight, Miles turned sharply down one of the neatly swept sidewalks leading down into the heart of the neighborhood.
"Watch where you're going!" Miles skidded to a halt just before colliding with a labcoat-clad figure coming in the opposite direction. He froze, head snapping up to meet Pierre Chang's scathing glare.
The astrophysicist haughtily adjusted his labcoat, towering over Miles, who stood stock-still. Their eyes met, and Pierre squinted, as if to study him. Miles took a step back and returned the scrutinizing gaze. Though taller and older with more angular features, Miles had to admit they looked alike. He wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. Pierre looked at him as if he had just stepped out of a mirror, pausing his moment of frustration to look him over. After a mutual once-over, Pierre turned and walked away, frowning thoughtfully.
"No time for bonding, we got a place to be, Enos!"
"Ow! Watch it!" Miles snapped as LaFleur almost ran right into him, stumbling off to one side.
He turned to see James peering over his shoulder at the retreating scientist, and followed his gaze, frowning. Pierre towered over the other Dharma civilians, and along with his sour expression and trailing labcoat, it set him apart greatly from everyone else.
"I'd hate to have a run-in with him." He remarked, looking from Pierre to Miles.
Miles sniffed. "Yeah, and you think that's the worst of it?" He lowered his voice as to not alert any passers-by. "He's my dad."
James blinked at him, taking all the time in the world to process this information. "He's your dad?—"
Miles tugged the sleeve of his jumpsuit to drag him away from the path, frowning admonishingly. "Be quiet!"
Both heads turned as Rosie, another resident, passed by with a smile and a wave. Miles sighed. Sometimes, he wished he could be as blissfully unaware as the Dharma folk.
"I met my mom the other day," Miles started quietly, eyes darting up at the path to make sure they weren't raising suspicions. "Same name, same voice… and Pierre's my dad. You with me?"
Judging by his expression, James is not with him.
"Jim, are you with me?"
"I don't know what 'ta say to that."
Miles shoved his hands in his jumpsuit pockets. "I don't know either… 's weird, man."
"It's, what, 1974?... I'm still out there as a kid somewhere." James dug the toe of his boot into the manicured lawn on the side of the pathway. A songbird on a nearby branch stooped low to look at the two of them, then pushed off its perch and flew to a nearby roof.
Realizing he'd gotten a bit more sentimental than he should have, Miles frowned and turned his gaze to a fern in the distance.
"Right… Anyways, let's go ahead and go, we got a place to be."
It wasn't hard to see what had scared the wits out of Horace once they arrived. James felt his knees threaten to lock as he swung the van door shut, revealing a group of figures standing in the undulating tall wild grass near the pylons. Even before his eyes adjusted to the sunlight, his ears picked up on the unmistakable sound of a woman screaming nearby.
He rounded the front of the van to meet Miles on the passenger side, both of then stopped and standing dumbfounded.
It—or her, rather—towered over Horace, who had never looked more relieved to see that the cavalry had been called. Oh, and Phil was there too, unfortunately. James forced himself to take a few steps forward to better take in the 'intruder.'
The closer he got, the more he realized how tall she truly was, she easily towered over him as well as Horace. She was clothed in a dress of sorts, made of many pelts and patterned fabrics, and had impossibly long dark, curly hair which poured over her back and shoulders like a lion's mane.
The intruder turned her round, dark-skinned face and glimmering eyes on the men standing in front of her. She didn't appear to be… visibly armed, at least.
"Greetings." Her voice was loud and deep, reverberating in James' bones. It didn't carry any obvious malice, but wasn't overly friendly, either. The trespasser met his suspicious gaze from under long, thick lashes.
"Greetings 'ta you too, I guess." He collected himself and stepped in front of Horace, who was already dangerously close to cowering behind him. "Care to explain what you're doin' in our little part of the island?"
Another blood-curdling scream ripped through the air, all heads turning in the direction of a small dip in the ground up against one of the pylons, the insides of which were concealed by a canopy of ferns and branches and overhanging rocks.
The woman, not at all fazed by the sounds of distress, slowly turned her head to observe the treeline, beyond which lay the Barracks. She seemed to take her time in forming a response.
"It's customary to come to this clearing to give birth. It appears; however, someone has built all over it."
Horace cleared his throat and stepped cautiously out of James' shadow. "If I may interject… It's been almost four years since we've constructed the sonar fence, and…" His voice tapered as the mysterious intruder turned her gaze on him.
Miles shifted nervously on his feet, staring at the small den from where the screaming emanated. "How the hell did you get inside the fence?"
James' head swung between the small group of security, all of whom could easily fit in the shadow of this new adversary.
"Are you… a Hostile?" Horace pipes up, regaining some confidence.
The woman frowns, confused. "What did you just call me?"
"A-Are you… are you a hostile—do you know Richard?" Horace continued, puffing his chest out.
James shifted his feet in the dry grass. Of course, he's trying to get information at a time like this. Holding conversation in the middle of whatever the hell this is. He squinted past the bright sunlight to study the intruder's face.
"Oh," her eyes flash with recognition. "Yes, Richard… He says he 'does not wish to associate with us.'"
Horace perked up, now curious, though he still seemed to cower in James' shadow. "Where do you live, then?—"
Another terrifying scream rippled across the clearing, making James flinch. He sucked in a breath, trying to make sense of what was happening. Some suspicious ladies made their way in past the fence to give birth in a magic clearing, or something along those lines.
Great, some lady's givin' birth and it's what, my third day on the job?... Givin' birth…
"Silence," the intruder boomed, cutting across Horace's timid questioning. Her eyes narrowed. "If you have nothing to contribute then leave us be."
Horace opened his mouth to say something, and then looked imploringly at James.
"Why are you looking at him? Just do something, Horace!" Phil barked shrilly, though he was still cowering in Jim's shadow.
Miles stalked across the grass to come face-to-face with Phil. "Of all the times to be jealous, did you have to pick this one?"
"Jealous!?" Phil hissed defensively, packing in his bad arm self-consciously. "You're the one picking a fight! All I'm saying is this clown hasn't even been here a full week—"
James sucked in a breath. He wouldn't go as far as to say he hated Phil, but the guy was more like a mosquito buzzing in his ear than anything else. If only he could be shut up as easy. He could still feel Horace staring at him expectantly and hear the anguished cries of the birthing woman nearby. Birthing…
James spun on his heels and started up the hill toward the treeline, fishing the van keys out of his pocket.
"See?! What did I tell you, Horace?—" Phil's shrill bark was cut off by Miles snapping something unintelligible at him.
"Where the hell are you going, S—Jim?" Miles turned his attention to his coworker, who was now hiking his way toward the van.
"I'm goin' ta get Juliet."
"There aren't really f or v sounds… Though I'm sure we can figure something out." The pen tip dangled out of the corner of her mouth as she stared thoughtfully at the paper. Making a few more marks with her pen, she turned the paper around and slid it across the table to Jin.
He frowned, reading over the cleanly-lined characters. "Fireplace." He sounded it out confidently.
Juliet beamed. "Very good! You're a quick learner." It felt nice, to give praise to someone. Teaching them something other than how to break someone's arm or use a rifle, something innocent.
"Quick learner," he echoed, "thank you." Juliet gently slid the paper back and looked over her pronunciation guide. It wasn't like she knew any Korean, but it was worth a try. Something to occupy herself with until she found her own menial calling here.
"It is nice out today." Jin said, turning to the open window, letting in the late afternoon sunlight and the sounds of the bustling neighborhood around them. Juliet took in a deep breath of the scent of freshly mowed grass from outside. It smelled like home. Sitting here, she could almost forget she was still on the island.
"Very nice," she agreed. Her gaze fell on her half-drunk coffee cup still on the counter. Juliet hummed thoughtfully, beginning to sound out the word 'coffee' in her head and translate it onto the paper.
The sound of heavy footsteps on the sidewalk outside didn't catch her attention until she felt them thrumming up the steps to the small concrete porch at the front door. The iron security door rattled with the effort of someone trying (and failing) to open it, and then the sound of someone fiddling with the knob.
Juliet's head snapped up as both doors swung open, revealing James panting in the doorway. There was an urgency in his eyes, and he was looking right at her.
"James?" She couldn't hide the concern in her voice. Had the hostiles come back for them?
"Juliet," he panted, out of breath. "I need—there's an emergency—"
"James." She repeated, sternly.
"Someone's giving birth." The sentence sent ice through her veins and a ball of dread welled up in her stomach. "By the fence—we need you." His eyes were wide, and he looked terrified. She could tell it was genuine.
You need me? You need me, of all people. The words lingered on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back. She couldn't run for long; she should have known. 'It's all you're good for, after all. That's the whole reason you're here.'
"Juliet," he pleaded, he could tell by her expression something was up.
Her brows furrowed, fists balling. What should she say? What should she do? She threw down her pen, more violently than she meant to, and stormed up to him.
"Take me there." She ordered. It was best to get this over with. Still, thoughts whirled in her head. Does Horace know I'm a doctor now? Is this it, am I doomed to do this over and over again? To have more women die?
James gripped the steering wheel, feeling the burn from it being hot from sitting out in the sun. Green trees whipped by as they entered the small ring of forest separating the Outlands from the fence.
This is the first time in a long while they'd been alone together. He could see her out of the corner of her eye. She had that look in her eyes, the kind she had when she first got here. Like she was somewhere else. Regret balled in his gut, but he forced it back down. It was too late now. He shouldn't care, should he? He was doing the right thing, nobody else he knew could help with this.
Juliet seemed content to direct her thousand-yard-stare at her hands, which sat in her lap. The van jolted, but she seemed still as a statue.
"What did you tell him?" She started, trying to steady the waver in her voice.
James swallowed. "Who, Horace?" That must be it. Why she seems so upset. For all he knew they were scientists on a boat but having her be a doctor might throw a wrench into that. But no matter, he could twist this around easy and have them right back where they were before—
It wasn't that. He could tell. He opened his mouth to voice his thoughts, but the words died in his throat, it was something deeper than that.
"For all they know 'yer just a woman who knows how to help other women, not that you're a doctor or anythin'." The comfort was empty, but he felt he had to give some kind of effort. She gave him no reaction.
"I didn't know who else could help." He offered, but it sounded hollow. It was true, though.
Juliet's fingers twitched in her lap; he could see her stiffen.
"It's not that," she said quietly, "It's not that at all." She paused, biting her lip, as if considering whether or not to continue talking.
"This island isn't a good place for pregnant women, James. Either that, or I'm a terrible doctor." She met his gaze. "I'll do what I can. But it's unlikely I'll do anything but disappoint."
That's not true, blondie. But he could see the hurt in her eyes. He should have known, but some part of him wanted to hold onto his pride. He was doing the right thing; how could he have known?
The ride was painfully silent after that.
"I told you to leave us alone." Boomed the intruder, towering over Horace and Phil. She turned her glare to the approaching van. Horace had never looked so relieved.
"Juliet!" He exclaimed as she exited the van on shaking legs, "I didn't know you—" She pushed past him without a word, standing fearlessly in the shadow of the trespasser.
The mystery woman cocked her head to one side, as if amused. "Oh. A gift to me, I assume?" She quipped, catching Juliet's eyes.
"I'm here to help." She nodded toward the source of the anguished screams.
James stood close behind, expecting this woman to turn her away. Instead, she let the hostility out of her gaze.
"And what is your name?" The harshness in her tone dropped like a shot bird from the sky.
"She didn't ask me for my name," Miles huffed.
"Because it's stitched right on 'ya pocket," James shot back, his eyes glued to Juliet.
"Juliet." She answered, voice level. She meant business. It stung, slightly, to see her back to her 'old' self, but she was handling this amazingly. Even Horace seemed to marvel. Though, perhaps he was just relieved the cavalry was here.
"Juliet," she echoed thoughtfully, as if forgetting her travelling buddy was in labor a few feet away. "What a nice name. I'm Diana." Fitting name.
"I don't think she needs any help, but I appreciate the hospitality," Diana continued, beaming at Juliet, who stood emotionless in her shadow, "Much nicer than your friends."
"Ego dolor… Ego dolor…" A pained moan emanated from where the birthing woman lay hidden near the fence.
Juliet's head snapped in the direction of the cries. "Does she speak English?"
"No, do you speak Latin?"
"Yes." Her answer caught James by surprise. He glanced at Horace, who was still awe-struck as he watched. "What's her name?"
"Eliana," Diana's switch from hostile and intimidating to charming was abrupt, to say the least.
Phil frowned. "Oh, come on," he whined quietly, "how come she's so nice to her?"
Diana had begun leading her to where Eliana was in labor, but Horace stepped forward. "Wait, wait, you can't just… Take one of us with you!" He piped up.
Juliet turned to stare blankly at him. "You all need to leave. It's too crowded here." Her eyes turned on James. He could still see the hurt.
"Let's go, boss," he encouraged gruffly, trying to draw Horace away before he asked any more questions.
"I'm not leaving one of our own with—with—" Endearing, for sure. But James wasn't in the mood. Neither was Juliet, it seemed.
"It's women's business," She said evenly. Now she was speaking his language.
Horace glanced around, then dipped his head. "R-Right, but… are you sure you're okay, Juliet?" He blinked.
"I'm fine, just go."
Miles was staring at James expectantly. "What'd you say to her, man?"
The security officer spun on his heels and began crowding everyone back toward their respective vans. They had things to do today, after all.
"I can't believe you just left her there! That woman—Diana… she's huge, man! Scary, too!" Miles rolled his eyes as Phil continued squeaking. Right, right, like he cares.
"She wanted to stay there, it's none of my business—Phil I told you to hold that thing there! Now it's—" The broken part of the gutter attached to the eave of a roof clattered onto the concrete. Miles groaned, handing it back to Phil, at the top of the rickety standard-issue Workman's ladder.
"I can't believe they have us doing hard labor," Phil whined, affixing the gutter piece back to where it was supposed to be.
"Hard labor my ass, how'd you like to do actual Workmen jobs, like scrubbin' latrines?" Miles quipped, already getting a headache from all the whining and complaining. Good God, how did Phil never stop talking?
"That's not all they do," corrected Phil.
"I couldn't care less, man." Miles leaned back against the yellow slatted siding of the Dharma house, looking out from the small alley toward where he could see a small piece of the Outlands. They can't be back yet, can they?
Of course, the 'inspection' had to happen on the same day two ladies decided to make a pit stop inside their fence. Like the timing could be any worse. And now they had to go around and pick up after everyone, make sure no funny business was happening. It's, what, '74? Yeah, Cold War times. Figures as much.
"We don't have to fix every nook and cranny," Phil remarked, from somewhere above. Miles decided it was best to ignore him, instead wiping sweat from his brow and watching some kids run around in one of the many grassy quads nestled in the neighborhood.
His eyes fell on Jin, leaning against the opposite wall on the other side of the alley. According to Jim, he'd been learning English with Juliet. They spend a lot of time together. He thought back to the conversation he'd overheard through the vents.
He was no stranger to, as he put it, 'paranormal business', but that didn't mean he didn't hate hearing about it. He hated how it was used in stories and all, like it was interesting. If they knew what this was really like I bet they'd stop.
"I think you need to take more time off, take more walks." A voice echoed from around the corner, accompanied by 2 pairs of footsteps on the nearest sidewalk. Miles peered out from around the edge of the house.
"I get enough air on the Hydra. I'm not a dog who needs to be taken outside." Pierre responded coolly, though he still let Lara lead him down the sidewalk, hand in hand. Her flowy, 70s-patterned colorful clothes contrasted with her husband's stark white labcoat.
Miles felt a jolt in the pit of his stomach, Phil's squawking from up above drowned out by the roaring of his own pulse in his ears. He ducked back just enough to be out of sight.
Pierre stopped on the sidewalk, squinting out over the grassy quads to where a few Workmen were standing side by side in the shadow of a roof overhang, sharing beers. His lip curled, but Lara continued tugging him onward.
"Work, work, all day every day. I hope you're not going to be like this when we have a family." God, she sounded just like she did when I was a kid. The sight of her healthy, smiling, walking hand-in-hand with Dr. Chang was so strange.
"Hm." Was the scientist's only response. Miles ducked back further as they passed, Lara pointing out some of the colorful island birds that fluttered by out of the decorative trees. Their voices faded as they wandered further into the heat-warped distance, eventually turning a corner out of sight.
I'm never going to get over how weird this is. I hope that crazy old man—Locke—comes back soon. I don't know if I could deal with this.
Clunk! The tinny sound of screws and metal clinking together came from overhead, and before he knew it, Miles was on his knees, pain throbbing through his skull.
"Sorry!" Phil exclaimed half-heartedly, fiddling with the now empty space on the roof overhang where the wayward piece of the gutter had been. Jin, concerned, ran up and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Miles, are you okay?"
He sniffed. "Your English is… getting' better." He forced himself back up on his feet, dusting himself off and hoping nobody else saw. He heard Phil snicker from above him.
"This isn't a game, we've got stuff to do, man." Miles grabbed the now very busted-up gutter piece and tossed it back up to Phil, who made no attempt to catch it, instead letting it bounce off the roof eave and clatter back to the ground.
"Oops." Jesus, could he get any more annoying? On second thought, he'd rather deal with his young parents than an unruly coworker.
Miles laid a hand on the rickety Workman's ladder, fingers twitching with the effort it took to restrain himself from pushing it over.
"Do you have some kind of problem with us, man?" He hissed, voice a little lower. Not that he wasn't a 'drama queen,' as Char had put it, but he never liked confrontation. Nevertheless, he'd rather die than suck up to Gumby up there.
Phil looked down at him and frowned. "That you walked in here one day and got jobs without even asking, and now you act like you own the place? Sure, I got a problem."
Miles sniffed. "Did you miss the part where we saved you from being overrun by rowdy teenagers? Or how we busted our asses first day on the job to keep you from getting busted by the 'Fuzz?"
"I sure didn't miss the part where you walked out of the jungle holding rifles and carrying a dead body!" Retorted Phil. Miles gave the ladder a firm shove, causing Phil to stumble and grab onto the ladder, looking very offended.
To Miles, Phil was the annoying kid on the playground who would take any chance to tattle on you for doing the slightest thing. He can cry to Horace all he wants, for all I careorahh.
"You have no right to bully me, a coworker, and for all you know, your superior! Considering that I've been here longer than you."
"We have the same job, dumbass." Miles could feel Jin tugging on his arm, trying to catch his attention, but he continued to sneer at Phil. If he was going to get in trouble, he might as well go big or go home.
"If you're going to bully me, at least do your job as security, and make sure nobody else is doing anything un-Dharma." Phil nodded back across the quad.
Miles turned and saw what Jin was trying to warn him about. One of the Workmen dropped his can aside to stomp across the grass toward them. Judging by the long, sandy hair and the obvious slouch, there was no doubt in Miles' mind which one it was.
"Why don't you go tell him not to drink on the job and get your arm busted like mine did!" Miles unhanded the ladder and stepped back. He wasn't against getting in trouble for the greater good, but when it came to getting his own ass kicked, he was no longer interested.
"'s that my ladder?" Slurred Roger, approaching as fast as he could under the influence. Realizing Miles and Jin were backing away, Phil's expression changed quickly.
"Wait—"
"Let's get going, Jin." Miles grabbed the taller Jin by his jumpsuit sleeve and ducked out of the alley the opposite way. It was obvious Roger was heading for Phil, anyways. Sounded like the two of them had bad blood, Miles couldn't exactly blame him.
Miles led the way through a narrow, grassy alley between two houses, thankful to be in the cool, damp shadows. They slowed between two walls, both of which covered with vines and ivy. Miles could hear the rattling of the ladder somewhere distant, but he stopped Jin.
"Wait."
Jin turned to look at him, blinking. Miles felt kind of bad, dragging him into everything. But he wasn't anything if not, well, nosy.
"Wait… Jin. I need to ask you," He could understand, he remembered being young and struggling to fit in, it was a terrible feeling. He also remembered growing up around this kinda stuff and if it was anyone that would know about mysterious apparitions, it would be him.
"Wait, wait. You saw Sun?" Jin blinked at him, he certainly understood that. For a moment all they could hear as the chirps of native birds overhead, and the muffled goings-on of the neighborhood.
He frowned. "Yes," He picked each word carefully, accompanying them with gestures, "Here, during the night." Alright.
Miles opened his mouth to voice his concerns but Jin started moving out from the alley, heading towards the place where sunlight shone through from the sidewalk nearby.
"Inspection," he answered simply over his shoulder. Miles huffed.
"You seem really quiet." Despite being all but humiliated at the fence earlier, Horace seemed his cheery, lame self. And, as usual, completely oblivious as to what was going on between Jim and Juliet.
"Hmph." James didn't have the energy to give him a real answer. He himself didn't even really have a real answer. If anything, he was just glad Horace wasn't asking any questions. About Juliet, especially.
James turned to focus on the trees and vines whipping past as they made their way beyond the fence to the lake where the submarine surfaced. Of all the goddamn times for Dharma to have some kind of 'inspection', it had to be today.
He was tempted to ask Horace to drive by the part of the fence where Juliet was, but it was a little late. I doubt she'd wanna see me now, anyways.
His head dropped. On one hand, he cursed himself for jumping up too quickly. Juliet was a person too, not an on-call doctor. He was tempted to make some kind of wisecrack to himself, but it didn't seem the time. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he wondered if that was what the Others used her for. 'This island isn't a good place for pregnant women, James. Either that, or I'm a terrible doctor.'
Son of a bitch. He should have known. On the other hand, he wondered why he should care. After all, she was an Other at heart. Whether or not they were here together now, they were on opposite sides in the past. The sting of his damaged ego egged him toward the latter opinion. What else was he supposed to do? By what he'd heard the infirmary was a sham anyways. She was the only one qualified. Did she not trust him enough not to blow their cover? She had to have read his file; known he'd pulled off countless successful cons.
Something told him that wasn't the case, though. It was unlike her to doubt someone just out of spite. Unlike her… I don't even know what she's like. Juliet had been and—as best James could guess—always will be a mystery, slipping away like grains of sand through his fingers. Other-hearted indeed.
The rest of the drive to the dock was uneventful, mostly silence and Horace occasionally trying to strike up small talk, nothing big. James could see his demeanor change as they broke out of the treeline and the van sputtered to a stop at the lakefront, though.
Upon exiting the van and walking up toward the dock, James could see Pierre's tall figure watching the surface of the lake stir. Horace took a moment to adjust his jumpsuit, shoving his hands in his jumpsuit pockets.
"Thanks for coming with me," he chirped, nodding his thanks. James returned it with a nod of his own, though his eyes still lingered on Pierre, who didn't acknowledge either of them. He took the moment to give his face the once-over. I've gotta say. I can kinda see Miles.
The lake surface stirred again, water splashing over the edge of the dock as a sleek, streamlined metal shape began to surface. It was obviously different from any Dharma submarine. While the Dharma machines were clunky and obvious, this one was obviously more tactical, pitch-black and bearing no marks. The hand standing at the edge of the deck helped whoever was opening it from the inside.
"We'll get it over with in a flash!" Horace was saying, "they just have to poke around is all, make sure nothing funny's goin' on, and then Pierre will take them to some of the other stations."
"Any chance they're gonna get the Miracle of Life tour when 'pokin' around', Chief?"
Horace paused, and then shrugged. "Probably not." Though, judging by how he lowered his voice, it was unlikely Pierre knew, either.
During the time they'd been speaking, the deckhand had managed to help open the submarine, revealing two people helping out the 'FBI agent' who would come inspect them.
"That's not them… right?" Horace blinked.
Up from the belly of the submarine stepped a woman with long, dark brown hair done up in a picture-perfect Farrah Fawcett style, wearing a pitch-black pantsuit which bore a shining badge on the left shoulder. It bore no name. Even in flats she was tall, and bore the same intimidating aura as Pierre, or the nameless scientists who worked in the ground-level office of the security building.
Following closely on her heels was a small man with shaggy blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, some of it falling in a messy fringe over his face. Unlike his superior, he wore no dark shades and had no badge. He did have, however a thick black leather leash, which he tugged up from the hatch of the submarine.
One of the deckhands had slipped inside and was helping assist the third and final member of the team up from behind. With a fierce scrabbling of claws on the metal of the sub, the smaller agent hauled up a big, white dog from the hatch. It sprung gracefully onto the dock, shaking out its fur and wandering to one side of the rickety wooden surface. Its handler, who looked far from being able to control the dog should something happen, tried to tug it back half-heartedly. The dog wore a bulky collar with the foreboding letters 'FBI' stitched in white across it.
Nice. Quite the intimidating cast of characters.
The woman, obviously the lead of the party, fished a cigarette out of her pocket and accepted a light from the dog handler, who surveyed the dock nervously.
Horace nodded in greeting, "Good afternoon! I hope you had a good ride." Before he could say anything else, however, Pierre stepped rather abruptly in front of him. The leader of the group shook his hand wordlessly.
"These are your guides to the Barracks."
Horace smiled and waved cheekily, catching the attention of the dog, who began heading toward him of its own volition, walking until it reached the end of its lead.
Horace cleared his throat. "I'm Horace, and this is LaFleur, he's a member of our security," he announced proudly.
"This is Arlo." The woman motioned to the handler, who was glancing nervously at Horace. He flashed his own cheeky smile. The lead woman made no mention of her own name. "And that's Roxie." The dog lifted her head at the mention of her name. She was a plain-old police dog by the looks of it, despite the snow-white pelt and—on closer inspection–her red eyes. Weird dog for a weird island.
"Let's go ahead and get started," chirped Horace, sounding glad to be in the lead. "We should give you a tour of the perimeter first!" He herded them all toward the van, taking a breath.
"Got anything in 'yer pockets there? You oughta let me find out before 'Roxie' does." James drawled as soon as the inspection party (and Pierre) were out of earshot.
Horace frowned. "Of course not! Not today, anyways." He fished a hand out of his jumpsuit and made an attempt to give Jim a brotherly pat on the back despite their height difference. "This will be a piece of cake, it'll all run smooth, I promise!" It sounded more like he was convincing himself, but Jim shrugged and decided to take him at face-value. Sure.
His gaze lifted toward the treeline. What was Juliet doing right now?
"Tu bene facitis," she choked out breathlessly. 'You're doing well'. Juliet sat back on her haunches, the scrubby grass digging into her knees. Eliana rolled over onto one side, panting in the humid air. Even in the shade of the small den she found herself in, it was still broiling hot.
Think, think, focus. Juliet struggled to stay within her own body, the cold tingling numbing her hands and making her arms shake. She couldn't do this, she was sure. The baby wasn't coming early, the mother seemed fine, everything was going fine but—
Juliet wasn't fine. She cursed herself for shrinking back into her old self so easily. Like she was just back where she started. She struggled to keep a hold on herself as the calls of native birds faded into the beeping of a heart monitor, the distant whoops of jackals starting to sound more like 'she's gone,' and 'do something!'.
"Quod factum est?" She was thankful for Eliana's breathless question. 'What happened?'
How was she supposed to answer? Nothing happened, not really. She was the problem this time, not the birth complications.
With a long, shaky breath, Juliet pulled her hair back to the best of her ability. She didn't expect to be coming out here when she dressed, feeling out of place sitting in the dirt and grass wearing light-colored clothes, more fit for a day in the neighborhood sun rather than midwifing.
She might have considered it some kind of sign if she were in a different situation; the one day she dresses civilized, she's dragged back out to do what she was brought here to do. What she was meant to do.
"Sedret recta." She said firmly, helping Eliana adjust. 'Sit up straight.' If Juliet was thankful for one thing, it was how cooperative she was. Speaking Latin words burned her tongue, it made her think of how she had to speak to the Others in Latin, back when they were still flashing through time.
'How did you know they were speaking Latin?'
'Because they're Others.'
And she was an Other, of course. It was just like she was bunking with James and the rest of the survivors until she was brought back to her true purpose. To help women give birth, to eventually fail. Just when she was getting comfortable, go figure.
Juliet couldn't find it in her to be mad at James. He really didn't know what else to do, it was obvious. It wasn't his fault she thought she do something else, be someone else. It was clear, there was no getting around it. As much as she longed to go back to 'normal', to live and dress and act civilized, it wasn't her normal. This was the new normal. 'Living with them has made you soft. I told you to be careful.' Ben's voice rang cold and tinny in her ear, and she couldn't stop herself from screwing up her face to try and rid her mind of him.
After a moment, she pulled away from the newly repositioned Eliana. She was talking, giving instructions cool and calm like she always did. Like she was trained to do. So why did she feel so separate, as if somewhere out of her own body? Like watching herself from somewhere above. I'm fine, I'm fine.
"We have plays during the spring and fall! Y'know, seasonal equinoxes and all that." Horace continued babbling to the far-from-enthralled inspection party.
"Weren't they just at war with the O—Hostiles?" Miles remarked, plodding alongside James, watching Roxie wander on up ahead. She kept glancing back over her shoulder at Miles, tail tucking between her legs whenever she laid eyes on him.
"Guess they're really a fun-lovin' bunch," James put his head closer to Miles'. "Wouldn't have happened to borrow anything from Horace this morning, did 'ya?" He nodded toward the nervously panting Roxie.
Miles sniffed, digging his hands into his pockets. "Animals don't like me, man,"
"Ah, all that Ghostbuster stuff, eh?"
"Not a joke, man," Miles rolled his eyes, James could tell this had to be the hundredth time someone had asked him something like that, "Not all fun and games, it's more like endless torture."
Dramatic. James sniffed. "Alrighty then Mulder, say what you want 'bout it." He turned to look over his shoulder. Pierre had been following them quite a way back, staying separate from the group. Jim couldn't help but wonder if he was eavesdropping.
Miles turned to follow his gaze for a brief moment. "Why don't you tell me what you and Juliet got goin' on, any reason you dragged her out there?"
James took a moment to gather his words. "'Thought it would help, in case somethin' went wrong." He paused, seeing as Miles was still raising a brow at him expectantly. With a sigh, he continued, "Maybe I shouldn't have."
"Ya think? She looked pissed, man,"
"Awful protective," Jim quipped, trying to take some of the heat off of him. Miles sputtered.
"Look, all I'm saying is I think you're expecting a little much. Even if what's-her-face—Diana—liked Juliet more than us…"
James pressed his lips together. Miles didn't really have a right to be as on her side as he was, did he? He didn't even know her as long as Jim did. Not that any of them really knew her, though. Figures as much, though, with Juliet playing mother hen to all of them. Except James. Did she feel uncomfortable around him?
"If I didn't know any better, I'd think Mr. Asshole Straume here was showing some empathy, gotta keep that in check," He quipped. Miles shoved him half-heartedly. Miles was from somewhere else, from another side, completely removed from the dance between the survivors and the Others. Not that James was all that well-equipped at making friends in the first place, he was glad not to be in constant turmoil for once.
Both of them startled as Roxie, who had been walking calmly ahead of them, veered to one side and lunged at the edge of the path, barking. Horace yelped and leapt away from her like a man on fire, everyone else turning to look. Arlo struggled to keep her in one place as she tugged on the very edge of her lead, snarling and bucking against the concrete with muscular back legs.
"Watch it!" Snarled her apparent target, somewhere up ahead out of sight. James' heart jumped in his chest. They hadn't forgot to check something out, had they? He plodded up ahead to see what the fuss was about.
The unnamed lead of the party was snatching the lead out of Arlo's hands, snapping at him.
"I'd sure hope that's not what she does when she hits on somethin'." Remarked James, reaching out to help pull her back, but the lead was yanked out of his reach.
"Of course not!" Corrected the lead lady, glaring at him from behind the pitch-black shades. "She's supposed to sit down and point—"
"Point my ass—oof!" Roxie veered off to one side, sweeping Arlo's legs out from under him and knocking him back into James, both of them tumbling backward. In a second, the snow-white dog launched off one side of the sidewalk and flew toward her jumpsuit-clad target, who stumbled intoxicatedly out of her way.
Before she could lock jaws on her target, Roxie yelped as her collar tugged back against her neck, jerking her backwards. Miles, digging his heels into the grass, had grabbed onto the very end of the lead and stopped her. Though Miles wasn't the most physically strong out of the group, the tug was enough to stun the dog, who dropped back onto all fours and spun to face whatever had stopped her.
Upon whipping around to face Miles, however, her snarl dropped immediately. Roxie cowered immediately, knees buckling and eyes blowing wide, tail tucking between her legs.
In the brief moment Roxie had been stunned, James sat up and brushed the grit from his jumpsuit, just in time to catch Roger stumbling away, Horace following at his heels.
Of course the dog would go 'fer him, I don't blame 'er.
"I'm so sorry man, we didn't know she'd do that—"
Roger swatted him away, snarling.
"I don't want 'yer apologies. Get your dog under control." He sniffed, ambling around the corner. Horace paused, nervously shoving his hands in his jumpsuit.
The unnamed FBI lead had taken the lead from Miles' hands and was scolding Roxie, who was hiding from Miles behind her legs. Miles dusted himself off and took a few strides toward James.
"Need any help?"
"No," James sniffed.
Both heads turned to see Horace nervously making his way over to them. The lead of the FBI party was occupied with Arlo.
"How's the PR goin'?"
Horace dipped his head sheepishly. "Don't worry about him, he—I was worried he'd be trouble." He quickly added, "Not that anyone here at Dharma is a burden in any way! We try to be open-minded."
James resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Still, he was just glad nobody was getting in trouble… yet.
"Have you seen Phil anywhere? He was supposed to be keeping track of all the cats…" He fidgeted with the collar of his jumpsuit.
"Oh, right." James turned to look at Miles, who sucked in a breath through his teeth.
"Dunno man, we all split up." Horace blinked at him and nodded.
"Right! O-okay. Well, we'd better keep going." They all turned to look as Pierre caught up with them. Horace perked up and moved to tail behind the scientist, trying to get his attention.
"Pierre!—"
Miles shrank back with a glare as Pierre's long shadow fell over the both of them, watching him and Horace follow the FBI party. James' gaze lingered on Miles' face. I wouldn't blame him for not liking him, but he's got to have at least a little respect for his old man. Then again, he didn't know anything about Miles' relationship with his father. And of course, Pierre was rather sour. James couldn't imagine spending any time around him.
"Let's go, man." Miles slunk back toward the retreating party, "The sooner we get this over with, the better."
"Agreed."
James shoved his hands in his jumpsuit pocket. Despite the broiling heat, his fingertips felt cold and numb. They were on the opposite side of the fence from where the situation was occurring, sure. But would the party want to tour the whole perimeter? He silently hoped they wouldn't. Though, truth be told, he was more apprehensive about meeting Juliet again rather than Dharma getting in trouble. Much to Miles' relief, it seemed, Pierre had abandoned the party in favor of what he termed 'important business'.
Shifting his weight from foot to foot in the long grass to stave off the pins and needles, James watched the lead of the party adjust her dark shades as she peered past the fence. Roxie still wound nervously around Arlo's legs, trying to keep a safe distance from Miles, who looked far from a ray of sunshine at the moment.
"You have a truce with them?" The unnamed FBI agent lit another cigarette, keeping an eye on Horace, who stood next to one of the rusted pylons.
"Yes! We have a very good relationship with them," Horace explained proudly, gesturing with a wave of his hand to the jungle treeline on the other side. "We have a monthly Truce meeting. Everything goes very well!"
James sniffed, but said nothing. He kept himself occupied toeing at the imprint of a large pawprint in the dusty soil. He thought back to when he was still at the beach camp, and Kate helped him track down that boar. As stupid of a venture as it was, he couldn't help but think of it fondly. One of few good memories on the island.
Roxie perked up; eyes locked on the treeline past the fence. For a moment, James' heart jumped in his chest. He hadn't even though about the Hostiles, he was far too occupied worrying about other things.
"Do they come across the fence often? Do you have physical contact with them?"
Horace frowned. "Um, no I'd say—We keep to our separate sides of the fence. We don't mess with them and they don't mess with us." He craned his neck to glance at the clipboard on which his answers were being recorded, before it was snatched out of view.
James kept a nervous eye on Roxie, who continued staring beyond the fence. Miles was staying a good distance away from her, why was she acting so strange?
Suddenly, a bark echoed from the depths of the treeline on the other side of the fence. All heads turned to face the jungle. Roxie's ears perked as she stood at attention.
It wasn't a howl or any kind of wild-dog sound, more like the bark of a domesticated dog. It reminded James of waking up early in the morning to the sound of Vincent barking at the crabs that would scour the less-populated ends of the beach camp.
The familiar 'woof' echoed once more from the shifting shadows of the jungle. This time, Roxie tipped her head to one side and, after a moment of consideration, returned with her own bark.
Arlo frowned. "What's the wildlife situation like here?"
"There's tigers!" Horace pointed out, before quickly adding, "N-not in the Barracks, of course—just on the island in general."
"He's asking about other dogs." Miles sniffed, moving to keep James between him and Roxie.
"Oh. I don't know. Maybe wild dogs."
"Wild dogs don't sound like that," James finally spoke up. Something familiar tugged at the back of his mind as Roxie and the mystery animal on the other side of the fence exchanged another mutual bark.
"Do your natives have any animals they keep?" Asked the unnamed party lead, reaching up to shield her cigarette from a hot breeze coming from across the fence.
"I don't think so." James was taken out of the conversation by Miles sharply jabbing him with an elbow. He turned to say something, only to see him frantically motioning to the bushes across the pylons. Following Miles' gaze, he spotted a flash of tawny yellow fur darting between some ferns.
"That your dog?" He hissed.
Vincent. If the dog recognized him and acted friendly toward him, that could be a problem. They never mentioned having a dog with them. That, and he still had a collar with a name and phone number on it.
Luckily, Arlo was sheepishly tugging the sniffer dog back away from the fence. "She's carrying puppies, 's what it is," He explained, his overgrown fringe falling into his face, "'s why she's acting so weird."
James breathed a sigh of relief as the inattentive FBI party lead spun on her heels and started heading back toward their van.
The day was going by surprisingly fast, and not many things had gone wrong today. Not including the incident this morning, of course. He bit his lip, wondering if Juliet was able to handle this by herself. Not that Diana seemed keen on letting anyone else help.
Guilt deepened the pit in his stomach. Now that they were all stuck together, he could see exactly why she'd be upset. Of course, they pushed her off like she was still, well, an Other. Not that he was quick to forget getting tazed, but she seemed as much a prisoner as they were.
She was so eager to leave, and he couldn't blame her, but truth was he didn't think he could get through this without her. As strange as it sounded, they weren't strangers now. If they were before, now they were a team, at least in Dharma's eyes. They might as well act like it.
A barbet skirted around the rising embers from the small fire, riding the hot, humid breeze into a small patch of grass, rooting for twigs. Juliet stared into the dancing flames. Most of her memories of fires weren't very pleasant. Her first funeral with the Others, listening to several of them fighting with each other, Ethan staring at her from the other side of the fire after his wife's death. She had to admit, though, it was a comfort. She felt uncomfortable sleeping in a house, if it was up to her she would have slept in the backyard of their house. It felt more familiar to her.
Her gaze flickered upward as she saw Diana sit down opposite to her. Throughout the ordeal she was surprisingly calm, if a little distant. She had her gaze turned toward the night sky. Shivering, Juliet glanced down at her own hands. She'd cleaned them off to the best of her ability, but no amount of scrubbing could get rid of the feeling.
Whatever had caused the pregnancy problems hadn't happened yet, or they were in some kind of place on the island where they weren't affecting anything. Not that it was any less stressful of an experience, but nobody had died today. Not yet, anyways.
"The stars are out tonight, yes?" Diana's firm voice came to her as if she were underwater, or at the end of a long tunnel. She blinked, broken out of her thoughts. Following her gaze, she glanced up at the cloudless night sky.
"They've moved again," Diana continued, "We must go north now," She motioned toward an arrow-shaped formation almost directly above them.
Juliet had always been mystified by all aspects of the island, but the stars were the strangest to her. She couldn't spot any familiar formations, like it was a completely different sky. Everyone else seemed to have them memorized and would use them to navigate; everyone except her, at least.
"Did the stars lead you here?" She asked quietly, studying the sky. It looked different than it did in present-day.
"This clearing is very kind to pregnant or laboring women," Diana explained, stoking the fire, "It has been the place to birth for a very long time. But we haven't been here recently until today."
Juliet couldn't help but be intrigued. "Are you able to give birth in other places? Is it dangerous to?"
"No, it is simply tradition," the firelight reflected in her dark eyes, "You have your own traditions, don't you?"
The answer perched on the tip of her tongue. All the Others' strange rituals, their funerals, their Jacob—but they weren't hers, not really. They never were. Nor was the community of the survivor's beach camp, or the friendly atmosphere of the Barracks, she realized.
"I don't know," she glanced down at her hands.
"Tell me, Juliet," this was the first time since they had been introduced that Diana had said her name, "You don't live here, with the Americans, do you?" Her question wasn't accusatory, but Juliet couldn't help feel a jolt in her chest at the prospect of being found out. She dipped her head.
"I don't understand,"
"You seem out of place here," She blinked slowly, turning her gaze toward the interior of the Barracks.
The trees were thick enough to conceal the glittering lights nestled in the valley, but Juliet could see a faint glow coming off the treetops and reaching into the night sky.
Juliet blinked. She wasn't wrong.
"You are not like the others here… Where do you come from?"
"Somewhere else," was the best response she could give.
Diana nodded. "These Americans are not your people."
"No, they're not," It was an easy enough response to give. He walks amongst us, but he is not one of us. Even if she was to stay in her little yellow house for the rest of her life, she would never find solace in the sterile, family-friendly Dharma atmosphere. It wasn't something she felt like she could ever understand or deserve.
"Are you alone, then?"
"It's complicated."
Again, she nodded understandingly. Juliet stared at her hands. The Others prided themselves on being private and cryptic, something she could never understand. Her secretive nature was something curated out of fear and trauma, not an aspect to be celebrated. The problem was now she couldn't even tell what the right answer was.
Diana had turned her gaze toward the jungle on the other side of the pylons. "We follow the stars," she explained, "But mostly, we travel alone. Following rivers and flats, alone. I never understand those who stay in one place for a long time, it's not natural, I don't think."
Juliet sighed. She wasn't a nomad by any means, but she sure felt restless. She didn't feel a sense of belonging anywhere, but especially not in the tidy, Pleasantville-esque neighborhood. Everything just felt like another assignment to her. Even taking care of Daniel.
"Do you wander, Juliet?"
She paused, taking some time to carefully consider her answer. "No. No I don't."
"Would you like to?" Diana tipped her head to one side.
"Excuse me?" Juliet lifted her gaze, dumbfounded.
"It's far more peaceful than the life the Americans live. You seem knowledgeable enough, yes?"
"Well, I don't know about knowledgeable…" She knew enough to keep herself alive, but for the Others that was the bare minimum. But she arrived expecting a civilized community, jungle survival wasn't a top priority. Even know she knew far less than what the Others would consider adequate.
"Are you offering?" She asked after a moment of consideration.
Diana blinked slowly. "Only if you'd like. Eliana will stay with me until she is able to take care of her child on her own. Then we will part ways."
Juliet frowned. She hadn't expected any kind of offer like this. She wasn't even sure what to say. Sure, she didn't belong to Horace's posse of suburbanites, but she didn't really belong anywhere on the island. Her whole goal was to leave—but what exactly was there to go back to? Something about the trim, neat yellow houses made her insanely uncomfortable, and she did miss sleeping under the stars…
"It's your choice, but I'm sure your people will be back to collect you eventually."
Before Diana could continue, Juliet's head perked at the sound of something rustling back in the bushes. She stood up, eyes quickly adjusting from the firelight to the dim moonlight casting an eerie glow onto the ferns. If it was anyone she knew, she would have heard the van coming, but this sounded like someone—or some thing—on foot.
Juliet stared into the blackness, stiff and alert. The footsteps sounded human as best she could hear. Danger flashed in the back of her mind. Who could it be? Had someone else found them?
The familiar sound of metal on metal—the cock of a gun, she realized—came from the bushes, accompanied by a glint of steel in the shadows.
I think it's all stupid. What's the point of coming to an island if you're just going to build a suburb on it? Miles glared into the shadowy foliage through the van window. Most Dharma vans only had a front and passenger seat, with the back open to carrying cargo. This was one of the few vans that had another row of seating in the back, where Miles had unceremoniously been placed.
As reluctant as he was, Ford was the star of the show. Maybe it was his tough cowboy act, but Horace had taken a liking to him. Miles was neutral. He was tolerable, but as was customary for him, he had a habit of nipping any relationships in the bud before they started. That was before the boat, of course.
He hated to admit how worried he was about Daniel, even just to himself. He was capable, yeah, but he just came down with time-travel flu or whatever else he had. Besides, he was in a completely different place now. Even if they had been placed in a time where cell phones were in use, it's not like they would call off-island.
Miles watched the beads of condensation on the inside and outside of the van windows puddle up into droplets and then race down the windowpane.
And sure, maybe sleeping on a porch swing was better than sleeping on the ground next to a hill of bullet ants, but everything about this place creeped him out. Maybe it was being around dead people before they died—or dead people after they died, for that matter. Or how… normal and Americanized everything looked from the inside, it gave him whiplash.
He didn't really blame Juliet for being pissed when she was shoveled out there to deal with the first unknown party they saw. Treated like an outsider, or something like that. Ford—Lafleur, he corrected himself—seemed eager to go and get her though. She did know what she was doing, but something didn't sit right with Miles about leaving her out there by herself. He hated to admit he was attached, though. As distant as she was, it seemed like she was keeping the whole schtick together.
Then again, would her going out there throw a wrench in their whole plan? She never mentioned being a doctor, but as far as Miles knew she would have applied for the position anyways. She didn't want to be security, after all. And she didn't strike Miles as the housewife type. He snickered at the thought of her sitting around folding laundry or doing dishes. None of them were the suburb type, not really. It was humorous how quickly Horace had assimilated them into their little group, despite how out of place they seemed. Though seeing how many people actually lived in the Barracks, it would be easy to get lost in the crowd.
"…Oh, and maybe tomorrow you can go out looking for the rest of your crew. Any idea where they might have landed?" Miles picked up some of Horace's babbling. He was friendly, if not overbearing. Seemed like something straight out of the Twilight Zone, how stereotypically cheesy and corny this whole place and everyone in it was.
LaFleur sighed and glanced out the window. "Don't know, I'd say we keep in the Truce border for now, don't want to stir up any more trouble."
Yeah, that was the last thing they needed. But it seemed like their presence alone was enough to cause chaos. Maybe they were bad luck.
"Right! We can go and see if… If Juliet's okay." Horace paused, as if waiting for him to say something. "You two are together, right?" Miles rolled his eyes so hard it hurt.
It took a split-second moment of sputtering before James could respond. "Nah. Just teammates."
"Oh." Horace blinked, oblivious as ever. "I thought… Y'know, you two were an item! I didn't know she was a doctor." He changed gears quickly presumably after seeing LaFleur's expression.
"She's not," Miles piped up from the back, "She just has some medical training." James jolted as if he forgot Miles was still there. He didn't know what possessed him to cover for her like that, it wasn't like he even knew she wouldn't want people to know. But she seemed so uncomfortable, he could tell something was up.
I shouldn't even really care this much. It's just to keep himself safe and protected, he reasoned.
James shifted in the passenger seat. "'s a boat, we had to have the bare minimum knowledge." He agreed. Miles felt strange how easily he accepted his addition, it felt more like this whole plan was his creation.
"Oh. Right, I guess being on a ship and all you'd best be prepared." Horace continued, "You know some of the kids already heard; they're calling you pirates now! Isn't that funny? You don't seem like the pirate type…"
Miles shifted uncomfortably in the seat. Dharma's fearless leader indeed. The van began slowing, before sputtering to a stop.
"Best to go in further on foot."
"You think she's still going to be there?" Horace asked, sliding out of the van. "I mean, what if they took her?"
"She wouldn't let 'em." James sniffed. He and Miles exchanged a glance. Or if she left on her own.
Uneasily, Miles picked his way further into the jungle. He hated being out here in general, but especially at night. He paused, sighting a snapped branch alongside the path they were making.
"That wasn't here before, was it?"
James turned to look over his shoulder at it, frowning. "We didn't come this way before. Nobody did."
"Somebody must've, the branch is too high to be broken by an animal." That was about the extent of his outdoorsy knowledge.
"Uhm—" Before Horace could continue, the sounds of a scuffle came from the fence. James was the first to take off in the direction of the noise.
"Juliet!—"
Miles was quick on his heels, both of them easily outrunning Horace, even in their jumpsuits. Branches whipped by his face and slashed at his calves as he ran through the undergrowth, pounding toward the distant glint of firelight.
Suddenly, he crashed right into James, who had halted right at the treeline. Dazed, Miles collected himself and turned to see Phil, writhing on the ground with his hands behind his back, Juliet pinning him with a boot between the shoulder blades and holding his rifle. She glanced up casually.
"James?"
Phil bucked in a useless attempt to free himself. "Help me! She tried to kill me! I was—" Juliet let up on his shoulders, letting him scramble away. She dropped his rifle and locked eyes with LaFleur.
"Come to rescue me?" The surprise dropped from her eyes. Her lips turned up in a slight smile. James froze in place, then began rubbing the back of his neck.
Horace, panting, burst through the undergrowth. "What happened?"
James and Juliet shared a long glance. She nodded back across the lit fire. "It's a boy."
"They're fine, then?" He asked quietly. She nodded.
"Everyone's fine."
"I'm not fine!" Phil was dusting himself off and frowning.
"This isn't about you." Miles snapped, turning back to the rest of his 'team.'
"So, I guess you two are back together then?" James gave him a look.
Horace bounded up to the three of them, glancing nervously at where Diana was sitting, watching.
"So… everyone's okay? You're okay?"
"I'm fine, Horace."
"Right!..." He nervously rubbed the back to his neck, taking a step away from Diana's scrutinizing gaze. "You, uh, you did really good!" He continued, beaming. Juliet managed a smile, but Miles could tell it wasn't fully genuine.
"Thank you."
"Uhm… If it's okay with you—since they've taken a liking to you and all—maybe you could help me… negotiate their stay with them?"
"Your job's never over, it seems." James quipped. He placed a hand on her shoulder. She didn't make any move to remove it.
"A blessing and a curse."
For a small neighborhood, the residents of the Barracks were very resourceful. Though the cafeteria was open pretty much all hours of the day, James suggested they checked out "a lesser known place," he had said as if he were a native to the neighborhood. Though, it wasn't hard to catch the small line of people coming out of the door of the house a block down from theirs. As many surprises the Barracks had, a home-based breakfast joint wasn't one Juliet had expected.
Though far from a certified establishment, the house was nothing if not cozy. Rather than the cafeteria's industrial picnic tables, the diner's apparent owner—a woman named Belinda and her two daughters—had asked other residents for unused tables and chairs, which were strewn about the several rooms that would have been bedrooms and studies. The open-air kitchen that resided in most Dharma houses was being used as a center of operations.
Though Juliet had to admit it was strange eating in someone else's house—especially when the provided tables and chairs sat upon shag carpet rather than hard floors—it reminded her of when she was younger, living in Miami, and her sister would drag her to lesser-known places she found. The memory seemed so far away now.
"I got us the most luxurious seat in the house," Quipped James, winking as he sat down across from her in their window seat. Juliet hummed, able to return with a polite smile.
He leaned forward with his elbows on the table, reaching for the coffee they had been given. She watched him, his rough, calloused palms wrapping around the cheap ceramic.
Juliet turned to face the window. The blinds had been removed, leaving only the iron security bars over the outside to obscure their view of the sunlit sidewalk. Her gaze slid to her untouched meal of home-cooked eggs and bacon.
She quietly held her breath. For a moment she had expected to be sitting in the Others' makeshift tent camp, having been begrudgingly given her ration of boar and mango. Eliana's screams and the baby's cries rang in her ears.
"I gotta say somethin'," James started gruffly.
"It's a boy." He blinked at her for a moment, before relenting with a smirk.
"I mean," he took a deep breath in and turned his gaze away, staring idly at the couple sitting in chairs nearby.
"I jus' wanted to say I'm sorry for draggin' you out there like a call-girl," She blinked at him, surprised. "I didn't really know what else 'ta do." His gaze slid back up to meet hers, sporting that winning smolder.
She froze, like a deer in the headlights. She wasn't used to people apologizing to her, it's been over three years. She took in a deep breath, studying his face, before letting it out smoothly. "Thank you," she accepted.
"Didn't peg me as the type to say sorry?" He idly moved his eggs around on their plate, still trying to catch her eye. She turned to gaze out of the window, half-blinded by the golden sunlight.
"No," she sighed out. The problem isn't you, it's me. "Thank you, it means a lot to me." It was true. She wished she could just blurt out that she didn't know how to accept it, that she wasn't used to it. That she didn't peg herself as the type to be apologized to. But it felt like there was some kind of wall separating them, forcing them further apart. Her heart ached; her courage was yet another thing that had been taken from her.
He raised his brows and tipped his head to her, following her unseeing gaze outside.
She should have given him more of a reaction, she thinks. After everything he's been through and how much he's grown. I only know how much he's grown because I read his file and watched him on the beach. Like we all did, she reminded herself. The divide grew further.
"Can I ask you something, James?"
"Anything you wish, sunshine."
"Are you scared of me?" Her voice was quieter than she intended, as if subconsciously making an attempt to seem less intimidating.
James blinked at her, taken aback for a split second. For a heartbeat she felt like a deer in the headlights, holding his gaze with her own. However, as James usually did, he recovered smoothly.
"Should I be?" His tone was joking. After a few minutes with no response other than an earnest stare, he heaved a sigh and tipped his head thoughtfully.
"Look, you and I ain't that different. I ain't sayin' this just to make you feel better, I think it's true. We both done things we regret, right? You know mine; I know some of yours–I think if anything, you've got more right to be redeemed than I do. The things you did, you were bein' forced to. I chose to do the stuff I did." That isn't true, she wanted to say. He was being too easy on her.
"Am I scared of you? No, I ain't," His words were thick and gravelly, she could feel their heavy weight in the air. "Not like I'm scared of myself, no." Their eyes met again.
"But did you kick my ass on the Hydra? Yeah, you did." He flashed one of those charming, dimpled smiles. She couldn't help but return it, not just to ease the tension.
"Sorry for kicking your ass, James."
He hummed thoughtfully. "I'll accept 'yer apology—on one condition."
"Oh?" She poked at the now cold bacon on her plate, unable to help giving her own goofy smile.
"Teach me how 'ta kick ass like that." Their eyes met for a quick moment. They both started laughing.
"Of course, I'll try my best."