These Dreams – Chapter 3
Richard Alpert was a tad surprised that an airplane had actually managed to crash on the Island. Quite honestly, he hadn't seen that coming. But as he had watched Oceanic 815's memorable crash and burn, he knew that for whatever reasons the plane had crashed, it was not coincidental.
No, not coincidental. Maybe...serendipitous. But if he was a betting man, he would have put his chips towards a stronger word. One synonymous with destined, intended.
The Island had brought them here. And whoever the survivors were, they would play important parts.
Ben had grasped that much.
Hench why the whole Island was in an upstart. People were gathering information, making trajectories of the plane crash, gathering costume supplies, and setting up whatever materials that they would need for the lies to keep the survivors pacified.
It always amazed him when people got upset once they realized that they could never leave the Island. He just didn't understand. Why would that be upsetting? He knew what world they came from. That world was a jungle. That world was miserable, tainted.
This was his world.
This is his home.
Richard breathed in. The air was so much cleaner here. Everything about the Island was beautiful. It provided everything. ...and even what it didn't, the small luxuries he was used to (razors, shampoo, clothes, shoes, etc.), the Island allowed Ben to bring in.
Although, he supposed, the things these people might be missing, could be something as simple as the human companions they had left behind.
His jaw clenched a smidgen. Juliet's circumstances were unfortunate. But they were not so unfortunate that they caused him to feel regret for his actions. No, she was necessary.
He sighed, yes, he supposed, love would be the only reason why the Island wouldn't be the poster child for perfect living. As in Juliet's case, if the people you loved were not here per say, it would be logical that the Island and all it had to offer wouldn't hold as much interest.
Not that you would know.
No, he supposed not. There had never been someone to make him claim to know anything about that.
He quietly laughed aloud, only allowing it to sound so bitter because he knew no one else would hear.
In a few minutes time it would be his birthday. Not that such things matter when you're immortal. Or when a plane crashes in your backyard the day before. But nevertheless, in a way that made him entirely human, it bothered Richard Alpert that he didn't have anyone to share this day with.
At this time every year, no matter what, he spent it enveloped in the Island; as deep into the flora as his feet would surely take him. He did this to remember where he had come from. To remember and celebrate the place that had shaped him into the man he was. Partly to honor it, and partly because it calmed him. Sometimes the gravity of all of his years needed to be eased off of his shoulders. Fortunately for him, the tranquility of getting lost in the Island was what eased his immortal mind.
So, an hour or so before the midnight he had been born on, he started on his way to celebrate. He would spend the full twenty-four hours in the jungles and rain forests he had been born in.
Richard stopped in his trek, and looked at his watch, it was almost time.
He opted to lean on a tree as he watched the seconds tick away to midnight.
11:59:55
11:59:56
11:59:57
11:59:58
11:59:59
12:00:00
Immediately after midnight he heard it.
He listened intently for a few moments to piece together that the slightly repetitious rustling was the sound of someone running.
The quiet rustles steadily grew louder, and he pinpointed that they were coming from the opposite side of his post against the tree.
Richard's eyes glanced about him to confirm that he was hidden from view from whoever was coming, and decided to lie in wait.
As surprised as Richard was to watch an airplane crash on his Island, he was even more baffled as he watched a young woman run by. A young woman that from her quick side profile he had glimpsed, he was not familiar with.
His mind was piecing together a map of the island, and of where he had concluded the front of the plane had crashed, and where the tail had fallen.
She was very far from either of them.
He turned his head to watch her breeze by, and couldn't help but feel his jaw slacken in complete confusion.
However, he righted himself very quickly when he saw her stop.
Slightly dazed, he moved towards his prey.
He didn't know why, but it felt like the right thing to do.
She was tying her shoe, and the distraction allowed him plenty of time to stealthily get closer.
How the hell had she gotten all the way over here so quickly? He was trying to piece together a sound explanation, but was still finding none.
Richard had gotten as close as a few paces away from her when she finally turned around.
He stopped.
He couldn't tell much about her before, and even less when she had been hunched over her shoestrings, but now that she had turned around, he couldn't help but take her in.
Her hair, which was a wavy dark brown due to sweat, was long, layered, and cut to have bangs. Her eyes, which were smeared about with the remnants of make-up and dirt, were as green as the Island's flora in the night. Her skin, what he could see of it, wasn't tan or pale, and she was petite. Maybe-a-little-over-five-whole-feet petite. She wasn't especially curvy, but the back profile he had been watching earlier as she had tied her shoe, presented him with a lovely view of her very nice derrière.
She wore black and white shoes, dark brown pants with a bit of a flare, a long black sleeved undershirt with the sleeves pushed up, and a navy blue shirt with large brown font that read "Everything's Going to be OK."
That was incredibly amusing given the circumstances.
He smiled, and it came easily. He quite suddenly felt that he wanted to be friendly with her.
He steps closer, wanting to get a better look at her face.
As the moonlight filters in through the trees he catches a more detailed sight of her.
A few images flash in his mind, but they're gone before he can hold onto them.
He knows that they are of her, but he can't seem to remember anything else.
"Do I know you?" The question leaves his mouth before he can stop it.
She doesn't say anything, but he doesn't hold it against her. He understands that his sudden appearance is startling.
He feels as if he should know her. And this in itself is important. Incredibly important. Why can't he remember her? It's there, the answer is there, dancing in the back of his mind, his memories.
Richard shakes his head, trying to clear it of the things that aren't making any sense.
More words tumble out of his mouth, he can't shake this strange sensation, "I have a very strange feeling that we've met before."
Richard watches as she bites her bottom lip, teasing the flesh between her teeth as she thinks.
He decides to move in closer, taking her silence as a sign that he needs to seem more approachable, so he smiles again.
It becomes quickly apparent that she is indeed a survivor of the plane crash. She's battered and bruised, and there's a cut on her left cheek, below her eye. The remnants of sand mixed in with the blood mean that she did come all the way from the beach, which is why she's drenched in sweat.
But beneath the sand and blood, he can tell that she's as lovely as she is delicate.
Concern floods through him, "Are you all right?" He remembers his place and adds, "What happened?"
His hands reach out to her before he can stop himself. His thumb gently rubs against the undamaged part of her cheek and he steadies her shaking body with his other hand to her shoulder.
The feel of her skin sends a small jolt through him, and another set of images pass too quickly for him to decipher.
But what he does know, is that the sensation of touching her is as familiar to him as the North star in the sky.
"I- I-" she starts, obviously searching for the words she wants to say and still suffering from shock.
He lets her take a moment to calm herself, and when she's gathered a coherent train of thought, she lays a hand over his, looks up into his eyes, and whispers as if she's come to a sudden revelation, "You. You're real."
With her in his hands, he can feel that the earlier tension has completely left her, as if those words were as important to her as life itself.
Richard is pleased that he seems familiar to her.
One, because it meant that the Island had intended for them to meet.
And two, because it was obvious that the Island had told her to come to him.
He's not entirely surprised when she faints, and finds that his instinctive hold on her awashes him with a strange feeling of deja vu. The feeling isn't unpleasant, and not surprisingly, it also feels familiar.
Author's Note:
Yay for chapter 3 from Richard's POV! And now that I'm incredibly tired, I'm going to sleep. Thanks for the reviews everyone!
Miss Kubelik and Teenage Anomaly thanks for the multiple reviews and advice! I love 'em!
And thanks to Beth Elia – I'm glad that you like my OC!
Winged Seraph – I appreciate the compliment!
Emilie – LOL, I'm glad I don't come across as totally mary-suing.
Briony Tallis – Much love, lol. Thanks!