"C'mon guys." Miles hurried them along the busy streets of Verona, where they had been instructed, via cell, by the Foundation, to protect this economist that was helping the Foundation. Sayid was rumored to have been looking for him there a day or two ago.
"Never really liked that bast-" Sawyer grimaced as Miles pulled ahead of the pack.
"Hey. Aren't you all about surviving?" Michael offhandedly commented.
"Not if it means by busted around by a man with half of Jack's leading skills. That's why I left Locke. But at heart...I'm a loner, Michael." Sawyer muttered as they followed. They looked like tourists, at least. Sunglasses, the whole shebang.
"And I'm alone." Michael Dawson was a troubled soul. But he never let it through the tough exterior. Like Sayid had, they'd been driven to kill, seduce, and use very ounce of brawn and intelligence both. Only difference was, Mr. Jarrah was their target.
"Yeah, we all know your reasons-" Sawyer brushed him off as Miles kept an outlandish pace and they hurried to catch up without running. And soon, Sawyer found himself rammed into a wall of one of many cathedrals, hands behind his back, and unable to access his standard-issue phone or gun.
"Look. My son is in the hands of an insane man. I haven't seen him in years. Now Miles might be a controlling…" He bit his lip to bite off the words. "…But I am in charge here. I have more power then I ever wished, and it's all for nothing if I don't. Go. Back." He pronounced the words deliberately, almost threateningly.
He let go and all Sawyer could do was shake his. "Like that didn't blow our cover." He shrugged and continued to run off, determined to make sure this mission was the last one. These three always had been an uneasy alliance, each with their own motives. Time
Jack Shepard came out of a long day's work exhausted. A receptionist approached soon. "Mr. Shepard, there's someone here to see you. About the…crash." He turned his gaze to the lobby, and across the circular reception desk.
To see a dark-skinned bald man, looking rather old, or at least distinguished, but with no hair or frailties, approached. "I'm from Oceanic Airlines." He slid his business card across the reception counter to Jack. He remembered that this time.
"Look, I'm plenty happy with my settlement." Jack put up his hands and turned towards the guy after examining the card.
"Have you been pestered recently, Mr. Shepard? By the public, still?" He persisted. Suddenly, for no reason, Jack felt interrogated.
Only by a dead man's ghost. But of course Jack didn't say that. "No, sir." Good thought the man. He's too valuable, and we can't risk them finding out. But it was always good to ask a follow-up.
"Just by anyone, at all?"
"No. Any other questions?" Jack was beginning to a bit put off by this man's questions. And then turned back at the next question.
"Do you happen to know where any of the other six are located?" Jack was truly perplexed. Surely the Company had kept tabs on all of them…except Kate and Sawyer, who were operating under a false name. He had gleaned that off the little contact he had with them.
"No sir. Well…Hurley-Hugo Reyes, that is…I'm sure he's in a medical institution nearby." He responded nonetheless. It couldn't hurt Hugo, who apparently had been...approached by this guy before. Now Jack began to grow suspicious.
"Not anymore." The man sounded as if he regretted it.
"Have a nice day sir." Jack managed to keep a straight face and act busy. He waved his handas if to rid himself of dampness on his hands, but inreality, it was to shrug off his burdens.
The man didn't notice this. He was too focused on hunting down these Six, to protect some and capture the rest. There were still battle lines drawn, nonetheless. The island, the survivors, centered around it. The man remembered the day that the company he pretended to work for talked with the Six. Or rather, four of them.
"Mr. Shepard, Mr. Shepard!" It seemed, at this news conference, that everyone was asking that to the obvious leader of the newly dubbed Oceanic Four. It had only been a day and the press arranged yet another conference.
"That's Dr. Shepard. But it's fine, it's fine. Yes?" He kindly responded. Scanning the newspeople, he pointed to a reporter, labeled Sue Herrera of the Sao Paulo Weekly.
"We were recently made aware that another boat with two more survivors made it so the shore of Panama earlier today. Your reaction?"
Jack's reaction was pain, guilt. And something small and nagging grew at him. But he pressed on with a calm exterior. "I'm glad to hear of it. Do you have their names?"
"Umm…."The reporter referenced her notes. "They give their names as Miles Straume and Michael Dawson, and state that there was a companion, a James Ford. Authorities could not find him in the nearby radius, but they stated he likely made it ashore."
Kate brightened instantly at hearing Sawyer was back. She knew, likely, he was running away from being noticed. But he was alive, and well! Sayid's face darkened, conversely, which was well noted by a shadowy figure in the corner. Hurley just looked worried as hell, as if both the other three and these two had reason to be angry with him. Jack merely relaxed.
They'd never hold it against him, hopefully. And they were off the island, so it's more than likely no one would wind up dead as a result of an argument. Trying to shake himself of the island mindset, he continued. "Well, again, that's great."
"Now, um, no more questions at this time. Thanks again." Hurley addressed them for the first time that day, still overcome with joy, awe and fear, he had fielded the least questions of the two. Sitting at the end, he relayed the message given from the wings.
Hurley Reyes was at home. Home. A word foreign to him for so long. The house wasn't too grandiose, or shabby. The savings account where his money had gone after the arrest and during the 'crazy bin' had accrued nicely. But Hugo was ready for a normal life, or what passed for it.
Maybe, he thought, he'd get a job. What, he had no clue. He sat there watching a new game show, scoffing at these people, greedy and thinking money was a blessing. Maybe it was, but his experience had soured him to it.
And the phone rang. Hurley stretched out his arm to the side-table where his Dew and cell phone rested. "Hurley Reyes."
"Hey, man. It's Jack." Hurley hit himself in the head. Not much, just a little. Should've recognized the number.
"Did you grow the beard, dude?" He asked. Jack laughed. For the first time in awhile
"Yeah, but it's not working." Jack smiled and continued with the chitchat. Pretending normal life, was, well, the norm for him.
"Not pleasing the ladies, then?" Hurley joked.
"Don't talk to me like it's fine and dandy." Jack got serious, and maybe a little defensive. His recent encounters with Kate and Sarah made that a bitter chord that now twanged amongst his hollow heart.
"Oh, so now you've got a problem Jack?" Hurley said, his undertone spelling anger for Jack not having helped him.
"You know what Hurley, I do!" He said indignantly. "I do." Softly this time, Jack repeated. "Sorry dude. Yeah…I'm trying to beat an addiction, Kate and Sarah won't talk to me."
"So sorry, man. About the uh…crash too." Hurley expressed regret better than anyone, even when it wasn't his fault.
"Yeah, that doesn't matter…listen, that's not why I called. That guy…talked to me too. I'm a bit nervous." Jack confided in him. His life was a wreck. Locke's words had been repeated to him, that he wasn't worthy of the island. A haunting on his hands, by a death-like man and a life-like ghost. The only good thing was
'He gave you the creeps, too?" Hurley said, half-joking, also worried and sounding like a scared little kid, and commiserating all at once. Even a bit of excitement that their leader was back.
"Yeah." Hurley could always make Jack smile, and that he did.
"Look, something's going on here." Hurley insisted.
"Tell me about it." Jack said, a little awkward about the ghost.
"Have you heard from Sayid?" Hurley asked, offhandedly, trying to shake his mind off of the odd events.
"Not since he moved to the Seychelles after the settlement." Jack responded.
"Michael?" Hurley asked, anxious. They had never gotten hold of him.
"Never." Both of them had always found that odd. Not too much, though, due to…the events that had happened. Besides Sayid, Desmond, and Sawyer, no one had really known Michael that well after he came to the freighter. Once his lot was with George Witchowski and Miles, his fate was determined.
"Sawyer?" The man asked about his best friend. Well, after Charlie, but…
"Through Kate." Jack admitted, slightly on edge still, and beginning to wonder WHY he could never talk to Sawyer himself.
"Same here, dude. Cept I've talked to Sawyer, and he's a bit shady." Hurley never really liked those nicknames, but it rejuvenated him to hear his friend.
"Edgy, like he thinks I'm still mad about him and Kate?" Jack wondered aloud.
"No…well, that too…but mysterious." Hurley wandereed, drifted away from the odd relationship between the three and towards the more distrubing, but easier to talk about topic.
"Odd. Y'know what, I'm off right now. Want to shoot some at the Y?" Jack suggested. He thought it'd be a nice way to meet, and allow him to forget his worries.
"Anytime I kick your butt at horse is a good day, Shepard." Hurley joked in agreement.
"Alright Hurley. See you there." And they hung up, happy. Unaware that it all would escalate very, very soon.