The tires screech on the pavement as the car takes another turn too fast, nearly clipping the curb, and Daniel throws out a hand to catch himself on the dashboard and bites back a curse. He hasn't been carsick since he was ten – at least, not that he can remember – but the sensation is still all too familiar, like his stomach is trying to squeeze into his throat.
He's not about to tell Sayid how to drive, not after watching him casually dump the lifeless body of Dan's would-be kidnapper into the trunk that he was nearly forced into himself, but he also can't imagine that vomiting in the passenger seat of this technically stolen car will endear him to his rescuer, either, and so he finally speaks up after the next intersection. "Could you, uh, slow down a little?"
To his surprise, Sayid does so without protest, and the kaleidoscope tunnel of colors swirling around the racing car gradually separates into individual streetlights and glowing business fronts, shapes that make sense and don't make him dizzy. Dan closes his eyes and exhales slowly as the tidal wave of motion sickness recedes.
"Are you injured?" Sayid asks, the first words he's spoken since getting into the car and motioning to Daniel to do the same.
"I don't think so." He looks down at the splatter of red staining his shirt. "It's, uh, it's not mine," he says aloud, his stomach twisting into a knot again. "The– The guy with the gun, who… Who was he?"
"I had hoped you might know." Sayid shoots him a look. "This isn't the first time something like that has happened to you, is it?"
He shakes his head and swallows against the lump in his throat. "Why were you there?" he asks, a bit too bluntly, and then he adds, "Not, uh– Not that I'm complaining, in the slightest, because I'm– I'm not, I was… I'm lucky you were there, I just don't… Don't really know why you're here, now, in– In Los Angeles, and–"
"I'm here for you." Sayid casts him another unreadable glance.
"Oh." He blinks. "Uh. Okay. Wh… Why?"
"What about you?" Sayid asks instead of answering. "What are you doing here, Daniel?"
"I'm, I was looking for…"
The island. He was looking for the island, because he was supposed to save everyone there. Because he was supposed to save Charlotte.
Sayid is still waiting for an answer. Dan closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Nevermind. It doesn't matter now."
A few seconds pass. "And who else knows where you are?"
"My mother."
That earns him another odd look. "Anyone else?" Sayid asks, and when Dan shakes his head, "Good."
He's quiet after that, and Daniel watches the road ahead, thinking. "Where are we going now?"
"I'm taking you to your motel room to gather your things."
He blinks. "How do you know where I'm staying?"
"That isn't important. But, if I was able to find you, anyone else could, too." As if on cue, Sayid pulls into a parking lot that Daniel recognizes. Heavy silence settles in when he kills the car, and then he produces the gun from before. "Follow me. Stay close."
Daniel does as he's told, creeping up the stairs behind Sayid and looking over his shoulder every few seconds. He hands over his room key and watches Sayid open the door and sweep the room for intruders.
Finally, when the door is locked behind them, he lowers the gun and relaxes. "Pack your things and clean up," he orders, nodding to the bloodstain on Dan's shirt. "Don't leave this room, and don't answer the door for anyone. Stay away from the window. Do you understand?"
"Uh…" Daniel fidgets. "No, not really."
"You will." Sayid steps past him and places a hand on the doorknob. "Stay here."
"Wait, where are you going?"
"There's a body in that car. I'm going to dispose of it, and then I'll take you somewhere safe." He opens the door. "I'll be back in half an hour."
And then he's gone.
"You're sure I can't change your mind?"
Dan looks over his shoulder to see Penny standing in the tiny hallway, watching him with a frown. "It would be a little late, now," he replies with a half-smile, turning back to his bag. "Now that I've dragged us all the way back to the States. Don't you think?"
"Still." She steps closer. "You don't have to leave."
He shakes his head and holds up his journal. "I can't just ignore this. All the people we left behind, they need help, and I'm the only one who can help them." He packs it away with everything else and turns to face her. "This is what I'm supposed to do," he says with certainty, and then he shrugs and gestures to the room around him, the place he's called home for well over a year, and he adds, "Besides, this was never meant to be permanent, remember?"
Penny leans against the doorway and watches him fiddle with the zipper of his bag. "It could be, though."
He laughs softly. "I don't think Desmond would be very happy about that idea."
"He would. He loves you, you know." There's nothing but sincerity in her voice. "He'd never admit it, of course. There are a lot of things he won't admit, not even to himself," she says, and then she adds, meaningfully, "I think that's something both of you have in common."
It's uncanny, almost, how easily she sees through them both. "And…what am I not admitting?" Daniel asks, already knowing the answer.
"That you belong here." She says it with such conviction that he can't even pretend to disagree. "That you'd like to stay with us, just as much as we'd like to have you."
She's not wrong, and that's the worst part. He shakes his head and repeats, helplessly, "I can't just do nothing."
She crosses her arms and starts to say something else, but she's interrupted by heavy footsteps thudding down the stairs. "Your cab's here," Desmond informs Dan, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
Penny exhales heavily. "Best be off, then." She stands up straight and turns back to him. "I do hope that you find what you're looking for, Daniel." And then she walks away without another word, to her and Desmond's bedroom.
Desmond glances back and forth between the closed door and Daniel. "She'll be alright," he says quietly. "Just needs some time."
He nods, but the tightness in his throat doesn't go away. The last thing he'd wanted was to part on bad terms.
He follows Desmond up the stairs anyway, squinting against the bright light of the midday sun to find the taxi idling in the marina's parking lot a short distance away. Desmond turns to him once they're on the deck. "Got everything?"
"Yeah." Daniel readjusts the strap of the bag on his shoulder. It's heavier than he'd thought.
"What about Charlie?" Desmond asks. "Y'already say goodbye?"
He shakes his head. "He's asleep. I didn't wanna bother him."
Desmond frowns, but nods. "Suppose this is it, then." He shoves his hands into his pockets like he's not sure what to do with them. "You know where you're headed?"
"Ann Arbor." Dan shrugs. "I think that's my best chance, and if I can't find anything, I'll figure something else out."
Another nod, and Desmond pulls something from his pocket and hands it over. "I'm sure you will, but just in case."
Daniel stares at the cell phone, confused. "What's…?"
"It's for you. Prepaid. Got our number saved." He produces an identical phone of his own.
"Oh." Dan flips it open experimentally. "Uh. Thanks. But…" It's a wild risk, isn't it? Widmore might still be after Desmond, with a vast network of resources at his disposal. Desmond's been off the grid for years, virtually untraceable; they all have. Why jeopardize that now?
Desmond nods, as if reading his mind. "Not for socializing, obviously," he says, stuffing his own phone back into his pocket. "But, when you're through with all this, I want you to call me. No matter how long it takes. Understand?"
Daniel blinks. Tears sting in his eyes, and he drops his gaze to hold them back. "I…don't know what to say."
"Say that you'll be careful out there," Desmond suggests. His hands clap down on Dan's shoulders, and he grins. "And don't forget about us, yeah? You'll always have a place here."
"Yeah." He wipes his face with one hand and slips the phone into his pocket. "Okay." An impatient car horn makes him flinch and cast a quick glance toward the waiting taxi before turning back to Desmond. "Um, can you apologize to Penny for me? I already did, but… You're better at it."
Desmond laughs and nods. "Lots of practice." He pulls Dan into a quick hug. "I'll tell her you're coming back soon. Don't make me a liar, alright?"
"Got it." With one last smile, he turns away and steps off the boat.
As he strides across the pier toward the parking lot, Desmond calls after him, "And, Dan?"
"Yeah?" When he turns, Desmond's grin is gone, replaced with a grave expression.
"Don't let him find you, brother."
Half an hour, as it turns out, is not very much time.
Dan's still scrubbing blood out of his shirt in the sink when the door to the room opens. He freezes, letting water pool in his hands, and holds his breath as soft footsteps cross the room and stop outside the bathroom door.
"Daniel." It's Sayid's voice, but he still flinches. "It's time to go."
He turns off the water and opens the door.
Sayid stares at him with disapproval. "When I told you to pack up–"
"I know, I know, I'm sorry." Daniel brushes past him to stuff the still-wet shirt into his bag, along with the rest of the clothes still scattered across the bed. It had taken him too long to find a clean shirt, and even longer to find one that would fit properly over the bulky bulletproof vest he'd spent no less than ten minutes fiddling with. It's Charlotte's vest – it was Charlotte's vest – and thinking about her in the past tense while seeing his reflection wearing it in the present had made his chest ache with something like guilt; still, she would've wanted him to protect himself, wouldn't she? To take every available precaution?
Sayid watches him pack and steps forward to help when he fumbles with his journal and drops it on the floor, scattering all the looseleaf pages tucked haphazardly within. Daniel gathers them into several messy piles and stuffs them into his backpack without really looking at any of them; beside him, Sayid stares at the papers in his hands, and Dan recognizes the thick cardstock of the military island photographs a moment too late. "What are these?"
"Nothing." He grabs them, too quickly, and avoids Sayid's glare. "Just, uh. Old research. Nothing important."
He clearly doesn't believe the lie, but he doesn't press; he gets to his feet and hovers nearby as Daniel finishes packing up the rest of his things and gives the room a quick once-over. "That…must be everything," he says quietly, and he turns to head for the door.
Sayid steps into his path, stopping him with one hand, his face unreadable.
Daniel frowns in confusion. "What's–" Then he looks down and has a single moment to process the gun pressed to his chest before Sayid pulls the trigger.