Author's note: Ok, hi, everyone! Um, I'm not dead as most of you thought and I'm back from the self-organized vacations! I'm still on the story, so hopefully I won't abandon it one more time. But, again,no promises!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and stayed with the story. Special thanks to Red Bess Rackham - your reviews inspired me once again, so here I am!

Guys, don't forget to review, your suggestions are most welcomed!

"Yes, I remember the outer world. Every detail. And what I remember the most is how afraid I was…"

The darkness of the night was almost palpable. The remains of the fires cast ugly shadows at the small camp on the beach, while the island seemed to live its own mysterious life. It seemed that now, when no light could reach the jungle line, a whole new frightening world was created there, the world no man could enter without being caught and punished for such an intrusion. The air around was thick with the foreboding of something bad about to happen. That was the nagging feeling of dread that woke Margaret up in the middle of the night. The feeling that left her restless, unable to sleep, the feeling that made her heart clench with unknown fear, the one she last had while boarding the fateful flight 815…

She was lying still, her eyes shut, listening to the sounds of the night. The cries of the unknown birds, the hushed lapping of the waves, the cracking of the coals in the dying fire…Suddenly she caught a muffled movement inside her tent, rustling. Though it could have been just a breeze playing with the tarpaulin, her heart sank, for she never believed in coincidence. Margaret's eyes flew open. It took her several seconds to adjust to the surrounding darkness, before she could make out an outline of a man's figure. As if on her own accord her hand reached for the flashlight that she always kept near in case of emergency. A cry died in her throat as in the dim light she recognized the figure instantly…

She sat there paralyzed unable to say a word, to move or even to breath. Her heart was ready to burst out of the ribcage and it seemed to her that in the night's silence her heart beating sounded like the bolts of thunder.

"Hello, Magsie," she recognized his voice instantly, as no matter how hard she tried to get it out of her head it still called to her every night in her nightmares. With horror she looked at his smiling face. Last time she saw him he looked absolutely dead, but now, here, in the jungles, far away from the life-saving bustle of her dear Los-Angeles, in the faint light, he looked even deader, if that was possible. His skin was mottled, white and disgustingly wrinkled, but Margaret had no courage to take her eyes off it, to look down to his chest, where she knew was a huge bloody spot. "That's just a dream, just a dream," she tried to pull herself together, "that can't be true. You saw him dying, you saw."

"What, swallowed your tongue, Magsie?" He obviously was mocking, taking pleasure in seeing her utter terror.

"You are not real…" she whispered, finally finding her voice, though it sounded not at all convincing.

"Oh, I am, my dear, I AM REAL," he sounded absolutely pleased with himself, as he always loved making an impression. In conformation, he took something out of his pocket and Margaret heard a metallic click. However she couldn't fully comprehend what it was, as her mind was racing, her very being told her it was impossible, and yet he was there right in front of her, the nightmare that had been hunting her for ages.

"Regi, I…" her voice strained, as she was at a loss for words. How many times she wished that she would have a chance to change what had happened, how many times she wished she could explain him everything. But now she was so frightened, her voice sounded so weak, so shaking, she was afraid that soon she would loose it.

"Wanna say you are so sorry, like: I didn't do it, it was an accident," his voice became dark and he took a step towards her, making Mags backing away into a corner. "But the truth is: you did it, and you were perfectly well aware of what you were doing, my dear, and now look at me: am I to your liking?" He pointed to the large scarlet spot on his shirt.

"But it was an accident!" Margaret cried out, gathering all the remains of her courage. "I swear I didn't want it!"

"Sure, so easy to say: oh, I'm such a poorlamb, I was but the victim of the circumstances, I was used, but I didn't mean it. No, my dear, look at what you've done to me, and face it." Now he was towering over Margaret, who was shaking immensely, a grim smirk on his twisted face.

"Please," she pleaded weakly, "please leave me…"

"Leave? Oh no, that would be too easy. You won't get away with it forever, my dear. Why don't we take a tour? I've heard the sea air is very good for skin. Come," he stretched out his hand as if seriously expecting Margaret would take it.

"No!" She yelled at the top of her voice.

"No?" He asked and his faced grew wild. Only then Margaret noticed how unnaturally black his eyes were. He then neared her in one swift motion, grabbed her by the wrist, so that Margaret could swear her bones cracked, and hauled her to her feet. The flashlight she was holding fell to the ground and died. She tried to break away from his inhuman grasp, but it was to no avail. Somehow six years of tiring trainings in martial arts didn't help her to break free, as he yanked her out of the tent and away from the camp. It seemed to her that she was made from feather, as Regi was dragging her to the jungle. She tried to cry for help, but surprisingly no one seemed to hear her desperate cries. He entered the jungles as if knowing where to go, his pace fast and determined, he made his way among the trees to the unseen purpose. His grip on her wrist was so firm it felt numb, but he kept moving, and she couldn't stop him. It's been an eternity of walking before the fresh cool air of night jungles or something else made Margaret think straight. Whatever is happening she cannot lose control of the situation. He is long dead and gone, he is unreal, but she, she is alive and she is strong and trained and she got out of much worse situations. And no way she would let him drag her into the jungles, to where that fucking thing lives!

"NO!" Margaret dug her heels in the ground, stopping him instantly on some kind of a clearing. "I won't fucking go with you anywhere!"

"You won't?" His grip on her hand tightened so that she felt her flesh smashing. The tears of pain sprang from her eyes, but she stood her ground as firmly as she could. "But you have to, my dear." He said through clenched teeth. "You see, it's your destination out there." He pointed down to where was dark dense impenetrable forest.

"I WON'T GO ANYWHERE!" She screamed in his dead face. He then backhanded her across the face with such force that she lost her footing and fell to the ground.

"What's wrong, my dear? Are you frightened? Oh, you're so pretty while scared…" Regi was looming over her, tall and vindictive.

"Regi…" she begged, sensing that the denouement was on its way.

"There's no use to beg, my dear," he said, taking something out of his pocket. Mags shuddered when in the moonlight she saw a gun, pointed straight in her heart. "You see, everyone should pay for his sins…" With those words he pulled the trigger…

Margaret awoke with a jolt, gasping for air. Looking around panicky she understood she still was in her tent. Making several deep calming breaths she tried to persuade herself that it was just the worst of her nightmares. Finding the flashlight by feeling, she never ever was so happy to see the light again. Just a dream, just a nightmare… But something told her everything was not as it seemed. The feeling still stayed with her. She remembered the details of the nightmare with quiver. Yes, something was wrong… The sharp pain in her right hand made her gasp, and the wave of cold terror filled her heart as she looked down: her wrist was purple and bloodstained just where Regi had clasped it. Margaret struggled for breath as the horror of all that happened hit her with new force. This was impossible, and yet her hand was bleeding and hurting like hell. She could but wonder whether that wound was somehow self-inflicted or that terrible nightmare wasn't just the product of her ill imagination, but something much more terrifying. Anyways, she couldn't let her mind wonder further and led her to uncontrollable panic. She must keep her sanity otherwise she would loose it. Her heart still racing and head reeling from all the thoughts crossing her mind, she preferred to burst into the feverish action rather then sit there in the frightening darkness and wonder. Several deep breaths and Margaret felt new found courage building up inside her. No, she won't let it get her this easy. No damned way! She would not sit here like an obedient sheep waiting to be cooked for dinner. She and only she was in control of her life. She must find out what happened before he could finish what he's started.

Hastily she tore apart the cloth that served her as a blanket and wrapped it around her injured hand, then crept up to where under the other bags the case was well hidden. Yes, it contained the solution she needed, but the question was would she be able to use it after all that happened? She vowed to herself not to open it until the extreme emergency. Could that be called an extreme? She looked at the case intently. One simple movement and all would be over. But she knew that with that small decision the last pieces of Margaret Rid would be destroyed forever. "Not yet, not yet…"

Still shaking she grabbed the flashlight and jumped out of her tent. Going, no matter where was still better for her than sitting in her tent she had considered safe. Whatever happens now, she always was taught to meet the danger face to face. Hurriedly, almost running, in order not to loose her courage provoked by adrenaline, on the verge of hysterics, she started towards the jungles, to where Regi had taken her in her dream or whatever it was. She felt she had to go there, like it contained something important, a clue of a kind.

Suddenly someone grabbed her shoulder and as Margaret cryed out still under the effect of the dream, a hand clasped over her mouth, but before she could fight whoever her attacker was, a voice whispered into her ear:

"Ts, you'll wake the whole camp. Bet you don't plan on doing that, don't you?" the hands then released her and Margaret whirled to face John Locke. He looked pretty pleased with the effect he produced on her, but seeing her shaking from head to toe his forehead frowned in sincere apprehension.

"Damn, are you fucking crazy?" Margaret screamed fighting back the tears of fear, her voice as terrified and quiver as she had never remembered it to be so miserable before. "You scared me out my fucking wits! Now think of a good excuse, !"

"I've told you, you started screaming and could have woken all the people up. You know, we all have the hard time here without additional unfounded fright." He looked as calm as ever. Though his eyes still were scrutinizing her up and down. She almost thought he was really concerned about her. Almost…

"Yeah, right. I could have died all because you are such a damned humanist," She rolled her eyes. Somehow being around him was soothing and calming. However that didn't mean she trusted him. "What are you doing awake at this time?" Mags narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Locke just shook his shoulders.

"Well, someone should stay awake, in case if anyone would take it into their head to drop in." She nodded not at all convinced, but he didn't have to know it. He looked at her with that look only he could muster, the look that dug deep into one's soul and left it restless, and she had strong desire to look away, but she knew she mustn't loose that battle. "Speaking about night wandering, you were going for a stroll, weren't you?" It's like one of those tests, Margaret told herself, before putting on one of her most nonchalant faces.

"Ah, nay, I've just had an unpleasant dream, so decided that a gulp of fresh air would do me good," she gave him a small smile. However his face grew serious as he looked her straight in the eyes.

"Remember what I told you about this island, that it's no ordinary place? Well, maybe everything here have its own meaning?" He tried to speak lightly, but Margaret felt he meant every word. "Maybe dreams also have there meanings? Like riddles, we need to solve. D'you like to solve riddles?"

"I used to, when I was a child, but, I guess I'm old enough for them now," She prayed he would look away, that look of his unnerved her. The only thing she wanted just to be as far from him as possible, but she willed herself to stay there and look if not into his eyes, then at least in his face.

"Riddles are never late to solve, Margaret," he smiled his dilapidated smile that sent shivers down her spine. "But, whatever, it's better to solve them in the daylight, then in the dark." With those words he went away into the darkness, leaving her speechless and restless.