Desmond's legs moved jerkily yet with surprising alacrity as he made his way deeper and deeper into the jungle. Commanding himself not to think, he instead focused on the mindless task of steadying his pace. He was met with varying degrees of success. On the one hand, his stride soon took on the appearance of a normal tread and his breathing slowed significantly, but on the other insistent thoughts of Charlie kept bombarding his brain. Where is he? Is he all right? What did he say to Claire? What does he think of me? He probably bloody well hates you, that's what, his mind conveniently opted to fill in the last blank. That's a given, Desmond acknowledged despairingly, but is he OK? I just want to know that. Just that. "But ye never will." He whispered silently, as if saying it aloud somehow wrote it in stone.
Looking down, Des noticed offhandedly that he no longer held his breakfast in his hand. In his sudden dash from the beach he had neglected to take better care of his food. "Bother, just one more thing to take care of," he muttered, although not as angered as he expressed. Just another simple task to kill time. He'd have to be coming up with a lot of them if he was to be on this ridiculous island without his best friend's company.
Finding food wasn't the trouble for Desmond. He'd done it often enough, and knew his way around the island better than he would have liked. However, actually laying his hands on the food was another matter entirely. And as he looked up at the nearest coconut tree he wondered if it was even worth it. His stomach, nevertheless, argued differently. Slowly he placed one foot and then the other at the base of the tree and began the arduous climb.
After managing to climb halfway up the tree and, in the process, endure some painful chaffing, Des believed that this might be a mistake. The afternoon sun was beating down upon him, and coupled with the fact that he was without proper food in his system, he began to feel very weak. Around this same time Desmond heard what he thought were the faint notes of a guitar somewhere off to his right. Charlie? his mind thought wildly, and in a near panic he began to work his way down the tree. Suddenly his left foot slipped from under him and Desmond went plumping down to the ground. The fall knocked him out cold.