Disclaimer: I still don't own LOST, but i do own Sawyer...and Desmond. okay i don't bit just IMAGINE the fun that could be had! muahahahahah!

Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews, they make me wanna jump up and down at work even if i make a fool of myself infront of bosses. Sorry about the delay, i went to sydney and it just ruined my groove completely and i was in holiday mode again. Anywho, i'm not sure you shall all like this but feel free to flame me if you wish :) . It really was a coincidence that i wrote this and it happens to come out the day after valentines day. Sorry for the typo's, i didn't really get to edit it properly as i have a syndfrome called mustsubmitnextchapterbeforebed syndrome, a terrible, TERRIBLE disease that i am taking medication for.

Thanks to Amy aka steam rolled harry potter for being awesome and nice and always motivating me during our lovely msn convos to keep writing or else lol.

Chapter Seventeen

I stumble.

I almost collide into Desmond, who is standing stock-still just past the door, staring at the man already in the hatch.

"Box man? What the hell is going on? The button…the computer!" Desmond exclaims. This 'box man' just smiles oddly and raises his eyebrows at me. I decide very quickly that I don't like this man.

"Desmond, you're back," says this 'box man' with a surprised smile.

Desmond ignores the man and runs down the…well, the hall, I suppose.

I look quickly to the man who just sighs and shakes his head. I follow after Desmond as I don't want to be stuck with the scary bald man nor do I want to be alone in this place. The beeping is getting louder, or so it seems, as I chase after Desmond. I see him turn sharply to his left and follow him into the large room. I gape as I stare at the strange ceiling; it is made up of lots of triangular pieces of…something, making a sphere. I notice a countdown clock to my right and gasp, it say there is 23 seconds to go. 23 seconds until what? Whatever it is, I can't imagine it being a good thing.

"Move for christ's sake!" Desmond yells at the stunned man at the computer.

21, 20, 19…

"I'm sorry! I-I lost the page with the numbers on it!" explains the man weakly, stumbling off the chair. Numbers? What is so important about these numbers that has Desmond so worried?

14, 13, 12…

Desmond swears in his thick Scottish accent and I run over towards him, as if somehow my limited knowledge of computers will be of any help.

He types a series of numbers into the computer; 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 43, swears, deletes the last number and changed it to a 2.

7, 6, 5…

"Desmond…" I say, finally finding my voice. I really don't want to see what happens when this gets to zero.

He ignores me and, staring intensely at the computer screen, hits a button titled 'execute'. I close my eyes and brace myself for something, a bang, a crash, a bomb exploding, anything.

I open my eyes. The counter stops at two. The beeping has stopped. I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding. The counter goes up to 108 minutes and starts again. Desmond slumps in his computer chair and rests his head against the glass of the computer screen, relief evident on his face.

"Phew, that was close," says the blond man on the floor.

"What the hell just happened?" I ask to nobody in particular, just wanting any kind of explanation.

Desmond jerks up quickly, leaving a smear of blood on the computer where his head had been resting, and glares at the man.

"What just happened is that this flamin' idiot almost killed us all! Why the hell are you here alone if you don't know what you're doin'?" he yells at the man, and for once I am slightly alarmed at his anger.

"He wasn't alone, Desmond," says a voice from behind me. Oh great, It's the bald man.

"Well what exactly were you doin', brother? You seemed pretty preoccupied standin' around doing shite all," Desmond says, turning his attention to the bald man, his temper and volume rising as he speaks.

"Wait, you're him, you're the guy who has been living here for all this time…I thought you had ran away." The blond man said slowly.

"Well, I'm back now. Honey I'm home," Desmond says sarcastically.

The bald man smiles at Desmond. "We can see that, and who is your friend here?" he inquires, settling his probing gaze on me.

"I'm-"

"She's none of your business, that's who she is," Desmond snaps, and takes a step closer to me as if he can 'protect' me from their inquisitive stares. Part of me is thankful as right now I am a little confused, but another part wishes that I wasn't treated like a fragile little child.

"I'm Morgan, and yes, I suppose I am a friend of Desmond's, we ah…met a couple of days ago in the jungle. I was on the back part of the plane when it tore apart. I'm twenty years old, born in Australia, single, yes my boobs are real, I'm left handed and I have a cat named Smudge…anything else?" I look from the bald man to the blond, who has a harder time trying to hide his surprise. Desmond is looking at me with wide eyes and a bemused smirk.

"That's…plenty of information…Morgan," the bald one says whilst the other simply gapes.

I smile a little in triumph. "Great, I hope I'm not being too presumptuous if I was to ask who you two are?"

"I'm John Locke, I'm a regional sales manager for a-"

"Box company, right?" Desmond interjects.

"Yeah," the bald one, Locke, says.

The short blonde one takes a step towards us and sticks out his hand. "I'm Charlie, and yes…my boobs are real also."

"Nice to meet you Charlie," I say shaking his hand and trying to stifle my laughter. Desmond mumbles something that sounds like 'oh yeah, wonderfully nice' under his breath.

"Well, as lovely as this meeting is, I'm going to have to ask yeh to leave," Desmond says in a completely serious tone.

Three stunned faces turn to look at him. "But…but Desmond, we need-"

Desmond interrupts Locke with a shushing hand. "I think we can handle anything 'til tomorrow morning, then I don't give a damn if you come in here every bloody day." What exactly are they expecting to happen anyway? That thought leaves an unpleasant feeling in my stomach.

"Why do we-"

Desmond is getting very impatient for some reason, and I highly doubt that he doesn't care if they come for little 'visits' every day. "Do either of us look like we can give you any answers? Right now I just want to have a shower and go to bed. So, thanks for stopping by, see you in the morning, g'night," He ushers Locke and Charlie out of the door, and locks it behind him, turning the large round handle tight.

I finally find my voice as Desmond starts to stroll down the hall. "Desmond! That was really rude; they were just wanted to help," I chide, following him.

"I don't need their help, not that they could, if we hadn't shown up god knows what would've happened," he spits bitterly, and I don't like being on the receiving end of one of his tempers, I realize.

"Well…still, It was probably quite shocking for them to find an underground lair of doom on this island."

I follow him to a little room with a bunk bed, his bedroom I assume. "My history with those people isn't great, okay." he says flopping onto the bottom bunk.

"What happened?" I ask, taking a position next to him.

"Oh nothing, just a little bit of a scuffle. So anyway…"

Desmond gets off the bed after an awkward silence and pulls something out of a drawer. "So, you gonna just sit there or be a polite host and show me around your humble abode?" I ask, following his lead and getting off the bed.

"Maybe later, right now I just want to get this fashionable little thing off me and burn it." He says, walking out of the room and most likely going into the bathroom to get changed. I look around for a while, noticing a few books scattered haphazardly around the place. Other than that its quite tidy, very much unlike my room back home. I quickly grow bored and feel uncomfortable snooping through his belongings, more so if I was caught. I walk out of the bedroom and turn down the nearest corner only to be met with an almost naked Desmond fumbling through a pile of clothes.

"Oh! Sorry I-I didn't know…you should've warned me!" I say, covering my eyes with a hand, but not before noticing his shocked expression and his hands placed in front of his nether regions.

"It's okay, I have boxers on," he says, his hands now in their normal position and a blush staining his cheeks.

"And what lovely boxers they are," I say looking at the blue tartan pattern with raised eyebrows.

"I don't appreciate you mocking my boxers," he says, pulling on a t-shirt and glaring at me.

"I'm not mocking them, it's just I haven't seen you in anything other than that charming jumpsuit."

"Oh so now you're mocking my jumpsuit?"

I sigh, I think he's in one of those moods that I am frequently in, the 'I am going to argue every little word that comes out of your mouth' mood. "No, no you're the only person I know who looks good in a jumpsuit," I say with a slight smile, hoping he will quit the arguing thing as it is very tiring.

He barks al laugh and mocks my actions a few moments before, covering his face with a hand. "Awww, you're making me blush."

When he pulls his hand away I notice a smear of blood. "Oh, your head is still bleeding," I say and instantly go into 'mothering' mode, standing on my toes and pulling his face towards the light to get a better look.

"Is it? I didn't really notice," he says with indifference.

"I find that hard to believe, here, let me take a look at it. Don't even try the macho thing, as hard as it may be to believe, you bleed like everyone else." I remember saying the same thing to Sawyer just before he threw me into the water on our first 'encounter'. Funnily enough, now it doesn't seem such a bad memory anymore.

"What, you a nurse or something?" he inquires in a doubting tone.

"No, but I did have a baby brother," I say haughtily. Grabbing a shirt, and wetting it.

"Well I guess that counts for something," he says and winces as I start to clean his wound. Eventually the blood stops, as it isn't a deep wound, but it isn't 'nothing' either.

Only now do I notice the way he is looking at me, his dark eyes looking down at me intently. "It might get infected, you…you better be careful with that," I say in a quiet voice, avoiding his eyes by looking at my feet.

"If I knew this would happen, I would've run away a long time ago," he says in an amused voice.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, pulling back a little to regain a comfortable personal space.

"Oh just that I never in a million years thought that I would be here, in this place, with the most charming young woman I've ever met doting on me," he says, smiling charmingly in the process.

I scoff at his compliment. "Oh please, I'm not charming," I assure him.

Desmond rolls his eyes and closes the space between us in one stride. "I'd like to give you a compliment, and you're going to take it. I'd also like to give you this, if you don't mind." Before I even get to ask what he is giving me, I am answered by the feel of lips against mine. I gasp a little but for some reason I don't pull away, in fact I return it. He's kissing me, I realize, Desmond is kissing me and I am kissing back. His hand brushes under my hair to rest on my neck and my hands are holding onto his shoulders, more for support than anything else. I close my eyes, and an unbidden image of Sawyer pops into my head, face full of hatred and betrayal. I pull away and gasp, stepping backwards a little.

"Sorry, I-I shouldn't have done that," he says breathily, looking at the floor.

"It's not that, I-I just wasn't…expecting it," I say lamely. Oh nice one, as if anyone expects that to happen!

A painfully awkward silence ensues and I am about to say something mindless just to fill in the silence, but Desmond beats me to it. "Right, well umm, I guess-" I never get to hear what Desmond was about to say as I hear a muffled cry off in the distance.

"Help!"

My head snaps towards Desmond. "Who's that?" I ask, running toward the hatch door. He outruns me in an instance and I stop as he opens the door, the big guy, Hurley, runs in panting.

"Help! I need help!" he says, gasping for breath.

"What's wrong?" I ask the distraught man, panic starting to kick in.

"It's…Sawyer, he-he just…collapsed." My stomach hits the floor at the mention of his name. All of a sudden my throat is dry and I can hear a faint roaring, as if a stadium full of people is yelling all at once in the back of my mind.

Eventually I snap out of my shocked trance. "Where is he?" I ask urgently. Hurley doesn't answer, just runs out to the door. I follow and find him kneeling at Sawyer's side.

I crouch beside him and try to ignore the stinging behind me eyes. Sawyer is laying still, eyes closed and a sickly pallor to his skin. "Oh my god, oh god…is he…please tell me he's not…" I choke on my words, unable to say it for fear that it just might be true.

"Get the doctor," Desmond orders Hurley, but I barely hear it. I am too busy dealing with my own guilt.

I sob.

This is all my fault.

Dum dum duuuummmmmmmm! Review please:) The leprechaun has suffered from review withdrawals for a bit and it'd cheer him up immensly :P oh btw waking up and seing that you have 10 reviews or so in the morning is the BEST feeling so thanks a bunch you guys for putting up with me. Xo muah oX