"Are you bloody joking?!" Desmond dug his wrists into their cuffs, thrashing angrily. Nothing. "Are you bloody serious!" Desmond shouted again and shook his wrists which had begun bleeding. Eloise stared down at him in disappointment and disgust, like he was a bug she hadn't yet managed to scrape from her shoe. Desmond knew the expression well. He had seen it in the face of Charles Widmore and in his own mirror after breaking things off with Penny. Eloise sighed and shook her head.
"Mr. Hume, I am not interested in games. I want the location of the island. My employer expects it of me, and as such, I expect it of you. I will discern its location from one of you," she spoke evenly, making sure that Desmond understood every last word. "At this moment, your friends are on their way to rescue you." Eloise smiled to herself when Desmond leaned forward. He could smell her perfume and held his breath. "I may not have had the means to bring them here, but it seems that they are coming on their own merit. I have something to show your Desmond." At this, Eloise simply walked out of the room, her heels clicking against the floor in a steady rhythm. The lights went out.
"What is it?" Desmond cried. His muscles tensed as the seconds passed into minutes. Are they going send me back in time? The smell of Eloise's perfume still hung in the air. This is bloody brilliant. This is just so bloody brilliant. Desmond gasped as he tried to pull his hands from the cuffs. Ignore the pain. A flash of light zoomed past him. Desmond squinted in the darkness. "What the -." Another flash. "Oi! Who are you?"
There was nothing but the smell of Eloise's perfume. The stench seemed to be getting stronger, somehow warmer. Desmond sniffed the air. Whiskey? He could have been sure that it was perfume. Eloise doesn't drink, does she? Sherry, maybe. The smell was unmistakably whiskey. It seemed to be right next to him, like someone was breathing the stuff right into his face.
Now Desmond could hear a rasping sound, almost like an air filter had beads tumbling around in it. The sound was right in front of Desmond's face, right in front...
"What does one snowman say to the other snowman?" Desmond nearly jumped out of his skin. His whole body went cold and he felt a shudder down his spine. Someone walked over my grave, Desmond thought.
"How've you been Dessy? I saw that you turned that key. That took guts, it really did. I never would'a managed it." The sound of Kelvin's voice was in Desmond's ears. Kelvin's dead. I killed him, he's dead, he's dead, Desmond reminded himself.
Kelvin seemed to read Desmond's thoughts. "You did kill me. I even invited you to come on that ship, too. I would have kept my word." Kelvin's voice snarled, right at Desmond's ear, deep and accusatory, "I would have kept my word."
"No," Desmond mumbled. A horrible laughter filled the room, reverberating off the walls.
Then, Desmond felt cold pressure, right around his neck. Cold, dead hands trying to strangle him. The pressure increased, he couldn't breathe, his lungs were on fire, all the oxygen was gone, the coldness just spread; now onto his lungs. Desmond gasped and cut his wrists into the cuffs to keep himself conscious. His vision was blurring... "I would have kept my word."
The light came back on. The cold sensation left. Desmond coughed and sputtered with spots in his vision. Eloise walked back into the room, smiling as she came. Her eyes were colder and deader than Kelvin's hands.
"I see that you have acquainted yourself with the uniqueness of this place." She gestured around the empty room with a triumphant swish of her arm. "You see Desmond, all around the world, there are, pockets, of the same energy that lies in the very heart of the island. This particular spot was the second strongest emission that the Dharma Initiative ever found." She smiled. This woman is mental, Desmond thought. "It has, shall we say, special qualities to it. The Initiative named it the -"
"The Gateway?"Desmond interjected. His voice was horse, and he immediately regretted speaking. His throat felt almost closed off. Eloise looked pleasantly surprised.
"Very good, Desmond, do you know why?" Desmond didn't answer.
"Someone hasn't been doing his homework," Eloise chided. "The Gateway was so named for it was, and still is, a gateway from the living to the non-living. From the present to the past." Eloise lingered a moment; just in time to see the shock register on Desmond's face. They're sending me back. Eloise left the room and the lights once again plunged into darkness.
It was silent. Desmond tried to pull his hands from the cuffs. His wrists were bleeding again- the sickly sweet smell of blood rising to meet him. Pain was coming in waves, but Desmond ignored it. He needed to get out before it happened again.
The room suddenly went bright. Desmond screamed and closed his eyes shut. A ringing was in his ears, loud and permeating with pain that collected just behind his eyes. He felt weightless, rooted to reality only by the pain. Desmond was screaming so loudly that it would wake Penny up. Penny? No. I'm in the Gateway. No. I'm in my bed, on my boat.
"Love, are you alright?" Desmond opened his eyes. Penny was looking down at him with concern. "You were screaming again."
"Yeah, Pen. I'm fine. Just a nightmare. Go back to sleep, I'm fine." Penny attempted to mask her disbelief and concern with a smile.
"Alright, then." Desmond waited until she was breathing rhythmically to slide out of bed. When am I? Desmond wondered. He looked around his room for clues. No baby pictures of Charlie, it can't be recently, I'm on the boat, I- Desmond spotted something on the nightstand. He picked it up and flicked the light on to see exactly what it was. A small, pink knitted sock. Penny thought she was having a girl. He looked over at the bed and saw an obviously pregnant Penny sleeping there.
Desmond slid out of bed, hoping not to wake his wife. He shuffled over to his computer and booted it. August 5, 2005. He opened the web browser and searched The Gateway. An article from the 1970's read "Haunting at Charles Institute?" This hadn't been there before. Desmond clicked it.
"Recently, at Widmore hospital for the mentally ill, patients have been complaining that the dead are haunting them. This did not seem odd to the custodians, since their patients are mentally infirm, until visitors started complaining of seeing specters as well. Said Margaret Williams, 78,
"I was visiting my sister Wendy when I suddenly felt very cold. I thought it was a draft until I heard my dead father whispering in my ear. He said not to go to leave the Gateway. It gave me quite a shock, I can tell you that." Williams' father, Thomas Smith, has been dead for nearly 20 years after a fatal motor accident.
A Miss Elizabeth Carlyle, 17, who visits her grandmother May weekly, reported "Strange figures around every corner that disappear before I can see them clearly. I feel as though I'm being watched."
Staff members have reported no strange activities. David Alpert, who has been working at Widmore for 10 years, said with a laugh, "I've never seen any ghosts in all my time here and I don't plan to. Some people just have active imaginations."
For now, there seems to be no indication that Widmore hospital is haunted, save for an "odd feeling" and "strange whispers".
Perhaps the prospective buyers of the institution, the Dharma Initiative, known for their experiments into the unknown, can shed some light.
The article ended with a Polaroid photo of the staff and patients with their names underneath. Standing in the very center was a very young man labeled Charles Widmore. Standing next to him was a smiling blonde, Eloise Hawking. Desmond searched for David Alpert and spotted him standing with some hospital staff to the right. It was Richard.
The next morning, Desmond went out for an early run to clear his head. Penny was upset, but understood that he was still having nightmares and let him go.
They were in London, about to leave for good. Penny still needed to pack up some things from her flat before they headed off into the sunset.
Desmond tried to think, but his thoughts were too mixed to even try. When had that article been deleted? Who had done it? When did the Dharma Initiative take over and why? Had Widmore tried to hide the Gateway from them? Why make it a mental hospital? Because no one listens to crazy people. No one believes them, Desmond thought.
Desmond jogged down the streets, breathing in the cool morning air. How am I going to find any of this out? He passed by stores that were setting up for the morning, thinking of nothing useful to help him. Just as he was about to give up, his eyes came across a poster plastered on a travel agencies window, with the slogan Explore beautiful islands! centered above a couple holding hands and walking on a beach. I could pretend to be from the island, I could go to the Gateway, talk to Richard...
An hour later, Desmond was driving down the road in a rented car. The same road he had gone down last night under different circumstances. Charlie won't be there yet, Desmond reminded himself. I can still get help, a small part of him said, Richard will help. He'll tell me what I need to do and where they're keeping Charlie. Desmond didn't know Richard, but everyone else seemed to trust him and that was enough.
As he drove, the traffic thinned out until he was the only car left. His phone rang and Desmond ignored it. The phone rang again. Ignore it, something in his head told him. He agreed. He knew it was Penny, and as much as it hurt to leave her, he knew how they ended up. And he had to do this. If he didn't, they might all die. He could feel a tug in his brain, a part of him was trying to get back to the present time, Desmond wouldn't let him.
There was something not right about The Gateway. It looked too nice, too normal. In the present, the brick was crumbling and it was overgrown with weeds. But now, it had fresh cut grass and clean windows, but there was something wrong with that somehow. It wasn't okay, there was something wrong buried under everything that was right.
Desmond drove past the building and parked further down the street. As he walked up to the gated building he turned back to the car three times, trying to talk himself out of what he was continued to try and stop him as he rang the bell on the gate.
At the ring of the bell, heads turned. Icy stares came from all the people scattered on the grass, taking walks, eating lunch. Desmond wondered how many of them were even alive. He guessed not many.
Two men came running to the gate, they were both dressed in white. They must've worked there. They stood on the other side of the gate and asked, "What do you want?" A reasonable question to ask a person ringing the bell on the gate to an insane asylum, it still annoyed him.
"I am here to see Richard Alpert," He told them, hoping that was enough to let him in. They looked at each other with a cautious look.
"There is no Richard Alpert here," one of the men stated sternly. Desmond sighed.
"Jacob sent me," He countered. The shared a look again, but this time they opened the gate.
"Right this way."
Desmond tried to keep his distance from the guards, they seemed about ready to pull him to the ground at a moment's notice. The led him into the building.
As they walked slowly through, Desmond couldn't have been more scared of his own shadow. Every corner they turned, he jumped. This place was definitely not okay.
They led him to an office where Richard Alpert sat busily going over patient files. One of the men grunted, Alpert looked up. He studied Desmond, he was sure he recognized him, but he acted like he didn't know who he was at all. "He said Jacob sent him," the other said. Richard nodded at the men, and without another word, they left the room, shutting the door behind them.
"Hello Desmond. Take a seat," He said casually. He was still studying his patient profiles. Desmond sat. "How can I help you?" he asked without looking up.
"I'm not supposed to be here. I sent myself back in time." At this, Richard looked up, setting his pen and paper down. He folded his hands on his desk and lifted an eyebrow. Desmond decided it wasn't the best way to open a conversation with the head of a loony bin. But he continued. "My friends and I are here," he pointed to the ground to imply the hospital, "Five years from now with Eloise." Richard laughed.
"That Eloise just doesn't know when to quit, does she?" He chuckled. To Desmond's disbelief, he believed him. "What does she want?"
"To kill us, to find the location of the island, and to bring back her son."
"Who is us?"
"Oh let's see, Me, my wife, Charlie, Claire, Hurley, Ben,"
"Ben? As in Benjamin Linus? He is still alive five years from now?"
Desmond didn't answer. He felt the pull again, he couldn't fight it much longer. "Richard, I need you to be her, December 2, 2010. You think you can manage brotha'?"