Lost, Sawbucks Style!

A short while ago, on the Channel 4 forums, blitz and I began writing our own Lost episodes. After a while, however, I stopped for reasons I won't go into detail on here. Anyway, blitz, as you should all know, continued writing (doing a bloody good job, might I add), and has also tried to encourage others to start. Now that I've made the very wise transfer over to this fantastic forum, I find myself itching to write again (writing stuff like this has always been a passtime of mine). Unfortunately, I couldn't find my previous work on my computer, so I've had to start from scratch, though it did give me a chance to improve on my previous work. And, so, before I bore you all senseless, I welcome you to the wonderful world of Lost, as seen through the eyes of one survivor, Chris Murray. Please feel free to comment on where you think the 'episodes' are lacking, as I would much like to improve any weak points in my work. Oh, and enjoy...

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PILOT, PART 1

“Help! Help me! HELP!”
Chris jerks awake at the sound of the voice, and looks around. It takes several minutes for him to register what he is seeing…He is lying on a beach somewhere, surrounded by suitcases, pieces of metal and bodies. Human bodies. Slowly, Chris gets to his feet, swaying a little, as he stands fully upright. He lifts his hand to his forehead, and feels a large bump there, along with a small cut.
“Please, somebody help me!” shouts the voice. Chris looks around, and spots a young man trapped under a large sheet of metal. Chris sprints towards him.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Boone,” replies the man. “Boone Carlyle.”
“Well, don’t worry, Boone,” says Chris. “Cos I’m going to get you out of there. Hold still.” He lifts the sheet of metal with all his might, until Boone can crawl out from underneath it.
“Thanks,” says Boone.
“Don’t mention it. Come on, we gotta find the rest of the pl…”
“Wait,” says Boone, holding up his hand. “Do hear that? That whirring noise?”
“The engine,” replies Chris. “That’ll be the engine. It sounds close, too. Come on.” He starts running along the beach, following the strange whirring noise.
“Look!” shouts Boone, stopping and pointing inland. “Look over there. Down in that valley. There’s smoke rising. Maybe that’s where-”
“No, I don’t think so,” interrupts Chris. “The noises definitely sound like they’re coming from that direction.” He points further along the beach. Boone nods, and they start running again. As they turn a corner, they come across the most horrific sight they have ever seen - The remains of a large aeroplane are lying on the beach in pieces. A wing is sticking upright, pointing to the heavens, one of the engines, though lying on the ground, is still running and the cockpit and tail of the plane are nowhere in sight. People are running everywhere, screaming as they look for their loved ones. “We’ve got to look for any injured people that need help.”
“Why, you a doctor?” asks Boone.
“No, but we can at least get them to safety until we do find a doctor. Get them away from the wreckage.” Boone nods again, and takes off towards the coastline. Chris heads over into the plane wreckage, looking for survivors in need of assistance.
“Hey, get over here. Give me a hand,” shouts a nearby survivor in an Armani suit. Chris runs over to him, as does another man nearby. The man is standing next to someone who is trapped under a part of the landing gear. Jack, the man in the suit, turns to somebody else nearby. “You, come on! Come over here! Give me a hand!” An elderly, bald man bounds over, and he, along with Chris and the other man, get ready to lift the landing gear. “On the count of three. One, two, three!” As they lift, Jack pulls the trapped guy out from underneath, takes off his tie and ties it round the man’s bloody leg as a tourniquet. Jack then looks up at something, and then turns back to the elderly man. “Get him out of here. Get him away from the engine. Get him out of here.” He runs away towards the sea. Chris hears a woman screaming from nearby, and turns to the old man.
“Excuse me,” he says. “What’s your name?”
“John,” replies the man.
“John,” repeats Chris. “I’m Chris. Listen, John, you need to get this man away from the wreckage, especially that engine. All right? I’m going to help that woman over there.” He runs off towards the woman, whose leg is pinned under a seat that has detached itself from the plane.
“Help me!” screams the woman, spotting Chris.
“Don’t worry,” shouts Chris. “What’s your name?”
“Joanna,” says the woman.
“Alright, Joanna,” says Chris. “On three, I’m going to lift this seat up, so you need to pull your leg free when I do. Okay? One, two three.” He lifts the seat, and Joanna pulls her leg out from underneath it. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, thanks,” says Joanna. Chris stands up.
“All right,” says Chris. “Well, we should probably move you away from this wreckage. If you can’t walk, I’ll carry-” There is a huge explosion, as the engine behind Chris blows up. Chris is swept off his feet, smacking his head off of a piece of metal and falling into darkness…

“…So, supposing you all want to get rescued, we need to get this fire burning, and KEEP it burning. It’s our best chance of helping the rescue party find us right now.”
It is a few minutes before Chris really takes in his surroundings. He looks round, trying to keep his head from spinning. Night has fallen. Lots of small fires have been lit, each with a small group of people gathered around them. Sitting around the fire closest to Chris is four people- three men, and one woman. The man stops talking when he notices that Chris is awake. The others also look around.
“Oh, you’re awake!” says Joanna cheerfully.
“I think so,” replies Chris, registering just how much pain the two bumps on his head were causing him.
“How’s your head?” asks Joanna. “You hit it pretty hard.”
“It’s okay,” lies Chris. “What about you? The explosion didn’t hurt you, did it? And how’s your leg?”
“I’m fine,” says Joanna. “Nothing a little walking won’t sort. One of the survivors is a doctor. He came over to check on you earlier. I wasn’t there, but I had asked Leslie,” she nods towards the man who had been talking, “to keep an eye on you.”
“The doctor said you’ve probably got a concussion,” says the man called Leslie. “And if you don’t mind, I’d prefer it if you called me by my surname, Arzt. I’m not too fond of being called ‘Leslie’.” Chris smiles.
“I’m Chris,” he says, shaking Arzt’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr Arzt.”
“Well if you want to be formal,” says Arzt. “I’m Doctor Arzt.”
“Oh, you’re a doctor too?” asks Chris. “Why couldn’t you diagnose me with concussion?”
“I’m a high school science teacher,” replies Dr Arzt. “’Doctor’ is just my title.”
“Right,” smirks Chris.
“And this,” continues Joanna, indicating one of the other two men, “is Scott…”
“Steve,” corrects the man.
“Right, sorry,” says Joanna. “Steve. That’s Scott.” She points to the last person round the fire.
“Hi,” says Chris, shaking both their hands. “How’s it go…” Just then, a monstrous noise roars out from the nearby jungle. The five of them leap to their feet, and look at the trees. As strange noise after strange noise sounds out, treetops begin to fall deep in the jungle.
“Did anybody see that?” asks a young, good-looking, pregnant, Australian girl, standing at the front of the gathering crowd.
“Yeah,” replies a heavy-set American man nearby. The survivors look on, as strange knocking noises, followed by a high pitched whirring blare out from the trees. From somewhere near the front of the group, an English man’s voice mutters “Terrific.”

In flashback, Chris is sitting on the plane, reading a football magazine. Putting the magazine down, he gets up out of his seat and walks up the aisle towards the lavatory. As he approaches, a man walks down to the toilets from the middle section, and tries the doors.
“Typical,” he says, as Chris walks towards him. His accent is American. “The bathrooms are free for hours, then everybody needs to go at once!” He chuckles.
“At least you aren’t sitting right above the landing gear,” says Chris. “You should hear the noise they make when they go in.”
“They don’t make a noise when they come out?” asks the man.
“I’ve got that happy surprise to look forward to!” says Chris. The man chuckles again.
“Hey, you think you’ve got it bad,” says the man. “You’ve only got to listen to an unbearable noise when we’re landing and taking off. I’ve got to spend 16 hours on a plane with my wife!” He laughs. “Nah, I’m just kidding. Wouldn’t trade her for the world! She’ll talk to anyone, though. As long as they’re American! So, I guess you’re safe!” Chris laughs. “So where about in Scotland you from?”
“If I say anywhere other than Edinburgh, you’re probably not going to know, right?” asks Chris, smirking.
“I knew your accent was Scottish, didn’t I?” says the man. “And it certainly isn’t from Edinburgh.”
“I’m from a town in the Scottish Borders,” says Chris.
“The Scottish Borders?” asks the man. “Well, I’m afraid I don’t know. Sorry.”
“It’s a region just north of the border with England, in case you couldn’t tell,” says Chris.
“Excuse me,” says a female flight attendant, as she and two male attendants walk past. They head towards someone further down the plane, a man who has got out of his seat, and is walking up towards the cockpit, away from the flight attendants. The female attendant shouts after him. “Sir, excuse me!”
Just then, the bathroom door opens, and the woman who is sitting next to Chris walks out.
“Hey, Chris,” she says.
“Hey, Ana,” says Chris.
“I’ll get the next drinks ordered. Another tequila and tonic?” asks the woman called Ana.
“Only if you’re having one,” says Chris. Smiling, Ana heads back towards the back of the plane.
“Nice talking to you,” says the man, as he is about to go into the bathroom. “Chris, was it?”
“Yes,” says Chris.
“I’m Bernard,” says the man. “I’ll be quick in here!” As Chris chuckles again, he closes the door. Seconds later, the plane shakes with turbulence. A female flight attendant’s voice talks over the speaker, as the turbulence continues.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has switched on the “fasten seatbelts” sign. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”
The plane gives a violent shake, and Chris is thrown into the air, hitting the roof of the plane. Struggling to his feet, Chris looks around. It is too far to his own seat back in Row 42, and the man’s seat just a couple of rows in front of him is still empty. Walking towards it, he moves the headphones out of the way, sits down and fastens the seatbelt. As the plane continues to shake (and drop in altitude), oxygen masks drop down. Chris manages to pull one over his face before passing out…

Chris awakes on the beach to a brilliantly sunny day, and the slight disappointment that perhaps it hadn’t all been just a dream. It had taken him a while to settle down to sleep after the strange noises from the jungle last night, and he had a feeling that some of the survivors had talked even longer into the night before drifting off to sleep themselves. Looking around, Chris realises that his four campfire companions are nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t too disappointed about not having to talk with Arzt, he thought, though he had hoped Joanna would be there when he woke up. As if she can hear his thoughts, Joanna gives a shout from the nearby sea. Chris looks over to see her emerging from the water, looking very attractive in her small bikini.
“Whoo!” says a man nearby, his accent Australian. “I wouldn’t mind a piece of that!”
“Hey!” says Chris angrily. “Knock it off!” The man shrugs and walks away. Chris turns back to look at Joanna, who flicks her soaking hair back, and walks towards him.
“Hey,” she says. “How’s your head?”
“It’s great,” says Chris. “Better than new. What about your leg?”
“Oh, it’s fine,” replies Joanna. “The swim worked wonders. You should go for a swim later. The water’s beautiful.”
“I would,” starts Chris, uneasily, “but I can’t really swim.”
“I’ll teach you,” says Joanna. “I do a lot of swimming. That’s why I was in Australia. I was scuba diving off the Barrier Reef. Don’t worry, I’ll show you how to swim.”
“I’d like that,” says Chris quietly.
“Great,” smiles Joanna. “I’m gonna go look for my luggage. I’ll be back soon.” She walks off, and Chris watches her as though hypnotised by her. He shakes his head and comes back to his senses. What is wrong with him? He barely knows this woman, and already he is obsessed with her! He has already exploded at an Australian man for making a perfectly innocent (though slightly sleazy) comment about her. Though, he, Chris, did save her. Maybe he subconsciously thinks that she is his to protect, to look after.
“Yo, dude,” says a voice nearby. Chris jerks alert, and looks up at the big American guy he saw last night. In his hands is a tray with something wrapped in foil in it. “You hungry? Cos there’s some food left from the plane. You were still out last night when I was giving them out, but I saved you some.”
“No thanks,” says Chris. “I’m not hungry.” This is, of course, a lie. He didn’t know why he was saying he wasn’t hungry when he was, but then again, he didn’t know why he kept saying his head didn’t hurt when he is actually in agony.
“Okay, dude,” says the man. “Well, keep safe, man.”
“And you,” says Chris. Thunder rumbles overhead, and it starts to rain heavily. Really heavily. As everyone scrambles for cover, Chris struggles to his feet and heads for shelter. On his way, he spots the man named John sitting with his arms outstretched, his face pointing to the heavens. How odd. But all thought about the curious behaviour of John is pushed out of his mind when, from the jungle, the strange noises of the previous night sound out once more. Something unnatural is out there…

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Last edited by Sawbucks on Tue May 29, 2007 6:49 pm; edited 1 time in total

PILOT, PART 2

“I thought you said that we need to keep the signal fires burning?”
Chris jerks awake and looks up to see Scott and Dr Arzt having a heated conversation nearby.
“That’s right,” says Arzt. “If rescue is on its way then the fires will let them know where we are.”
“Well, we can hardly keep the damn fires burning without wood!” shouts Scott.
“I know that!” says Arzt. “All I was saying is that you’re wasting your time looking for anything that will burn right now. After the heavy rain yesterday, everything will be soaked right through.”
“You don’t know that…”
“What’s going on?” asks Chris, walking towards them.
“I was just explaining to Scott that it would be pointless looking for any wood at the moment, as anything he finds will be too wet to burn.”
“What if we headed further inland?” suggests Chris.
“If you want to go stomping through the jungle after the noises we heard then you be my guest,” says Arzt. “Personally, I’d rather be in one piece when the rescue team arrives…Hey, what’s going on over there?” He looks along the beach. Chris and Scott follow his gaze to see a large crowd gathering around something. They run over in time to see two of the survivors – one American, one Iraqi – being prised apart.
“Tell everyone what you told me!” shouts the Iraqi man, Sayid. “Tell them I crashed the plane. Tell them I made the plane crash!”
“The shoe fits, buddy!” shouts Sawyer, the American man.
“What is going on? What’s going on?” asks Jack, the doctor.
“Look, my kid found these in the jungle,” says a black American man named Michael. He holds out a pair of handcuffs to Jack. Sawyer points at Sayid.
“This guy was sitting in the back of business class the whole flight. Never got up. Hands folded underneath the blanket. And for some reason, just pointing this out, the guy I saw next to him didn’t make it.”
“Thank you so much for monitoring my behaviour,” says Sayid.
“You don’t think I saw them pull you out of line before we boarded?” says Sawyer. He and Sayid try to fight again, but Jack and Michael are in between them, pushing them away from each other. “Come on! Bring it!”
“Stop!” shouts a female survivor called Kate. “We found the transceiver, but it’s not working. Can anybody help?”
Sayid thinks for a moment. “Yes, I might be able to,” he says after a while.
“Great!” shouts Sawyer angrily. “Perfect. Let’s trust this guy.”
“Hey, we’re all in this together, man,” says the heavy-set guy who had been handing out the dinners from the plane. “Let’s treat each other with a little respe…”
“Shut up, lardo,” says Sawyer.
“Hey!” shouts Jack. “Give it a break.”
“Whatever you say, doc. You’re the hero,” says Sawyer sarcastically, before walking away. Boone turns to Jack.
“You guys found the cockpit?” Jack nods. “Any survivors?”
“No,” replies Jack.
“Dual-band. Military spec,” says Sayid, inspecting the transceiver. “Chances are, the battery is good, but the radio is dead.”
“Can you fix it?” asks Kate.
“I need some time,” replies Sayid. As he walks off, Chris and Scott turn to look at Arzt.
“If he fixes the transceiver,” says Scott, “then we can send out a distress call. And then, a signal fire’s gonna be real handy. We need wood.”
“Scott’s right,” says Chris. “Look, we don’t know what’s out there, but, for all we know, it could be nothing. If we head into the jungle, we’re bound to find some dry wood. Look,” He points inland. “The canopy thickens about a mile in. The chances are not much rain got through, and any wood we find on the ground is gonna be pretty dry.” Arzt thinks hard for a moment.
“You’re right,” he says at long last. “But we’re gonna need a lot of wood: We want that fire as big as possible so it’s nice and easy to see.”
“So,” says Scott, smiling. “Are you in?”
“I’m in,” says Arzt quietly.

“We’re gonna need a lot of wood, so we could be out there a while. Make sure you pack a lot of water. We can pick fruit when we’re out there.”
Chris, Scott and Arzt are getting ready to head off into the jungle in search of firewood. Chris stands up and starts walking off somewhere.
“Hey, where are you going?” says Arzt, looking up.
“Oh, I, uh, just need to do something,” replies Chris. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He walks over to Boone, who is standing near the fuselage with a bunch of suitcases. “Hey, Boone!”
“Hey, Chris, was it?” says Boone.
“Yeah, listen,” says Chris. “You’ve been going through the luggage, right? Looking for anything useful?”
“Yeah,” replies Boone.
“You haven’t found any aspirin, have you?” asks Chris. “It’s just that my head still kind of hurts.”
“You hit it pretty hard, from what I heard,” says Boone. “We’ve been keeping all the medical supplies together. They’re over there, by that Australian guy.” He points up the beach.

Chris walks up to the medical supplies and sees that the ‘Australian guy’ is none other than the man Chris had shouted at earlier that day. Chris was inwardly happy to see that the man had a large cut across his side.
“Well, well, well,” says the Australian man, spotting him approaching him. “If it ain’t Johnny Concussion! What’s the matter? You break a nail?”
“Get a life,” says Chris exasperatedly.
“Well, ain’t that sound advice from someone who’s as much stranded as I am,” says the Aussie. “You better hope we get off this rock, or we’ll all need to get new lives soon.” And with that, he walks away. Shaking his head, Chris looks for the aspirin.

As Chris heads back down the beach (the aspirin having made very little effect), he hears a shout from behind him. He turns around to see a Korean man walking towards him carrying a tray. The man says something in Korean and points to the tray. Chris looks down to see what looks like several upside-down coffee-cup-lids, each one containing a slice of something orange and slightly slimy. The man points at whatever the orange things are, then mimics putting one in his mouth. When Chris still looks puzzled, the man points at Chris, then holds out one of the lids to him.
“You want me to eat that?” he asks. The Korean man seems to get the gist of his question, and nods. Chris looks down at the orange thing hesitantly. “All right,” he says, after several moments’ consideration. “But you should know that I have a lot of money. If anything happens to me, I’ll hire a lawyer so good that you won’t be able to look at your own reflection for two years just out of shame.” He picks the orange thing up, then throws it in his mouth. It wasn’t as bad as he thought, though he certainly would have preferred some Skittles. Smiling, the Korean man pats him on the shoulder and walks away.

“So, are you ready to go now? Or do you need to pray first?” says an impatient Arzt. Chris puts his backpack over his shoulder and looks around.
“I’m ready,” he says. “Let’s do this.”

In flashback, Chris is sitting on the plane having a drink with the woman sitting next to him.
“So, why are you going to LA?” asks the woman.
“Change of scenery,” replies Chris quietly.
“What, Australia wasn’t a big enough change for you?” asks the woman.
“No, Australia was a big change, Ana Lucia,” says Chris, smiling. “But it wasn’t the right change.”
“And LA is the right change?”
“Well, that’s what I’m going to find out, isn’t it?” says Chris. “So, Ana Lucia, why are you going to LA? Or, more to the point, why were you in Australia in the first place?”
“I needed to get away from…something,” says Ana Lucia. “Same as you.”
“Who said I was trying to get away from anything?” asks Chris.
“I did,” replies Ana Lucia simply. “I was a cop. I can tell when someone’s hiding something. So, what are you running from?”
“A lot of things,” says Chris. “Stuff that I rather wouldn’t talk about.”
“Why don’t you wanna talk?”
“Because I’m worried it’ll all catch up with me,” says Chris.
“Did it catch up with you in Australia?” asks Ana Lucia. “Is that why you’re running?”
“Well…some of it caught up with me,” says Chris. “But it’s a long story.”
“We’ve got a long flight ahead of us,” says Ana. “You’ll feel better if you talk about it. Trust me. But, before you start, I need to visit the bathroom.” She gets up out of her seat.
“I don’t think I’ll be far behind you,” says Chris, watching Ana Lucia walking up the aisle.

On the island, Chris, Scott and Dr Arzt are walking through the jungle in search of dry wood.
“So,” says Chris, breaking the silence. “What do you guys do for a living?”
“You already know what I do,” says Arzt.
“Yeah, you’re a science teacher, right?”
“That’s right.”
“So, Scott, what about you?” asks Chris.
“I work for an Internet company,” replies Scott. “Back home, in Santa Cruz. What about you?”
“I was a football…well, soccer to you….Yeah, a soccer player,” replies Chris.
“Was?” asks Scott.
“Yeah, was,” says Chris. “I had…an accident. I was in physiotherapy, but by the time I recovered, I had more important things than sports in my life…”
He breaks off as he hears a rustling in the bushes.
“What was that?” whispers Arzt. “Did you hear…?”
“Shh!” says Chris. He looks around but cannot see anything. Suddenly there is a loud squeal, followed by snorting, and something charges at them out of the bushes. “Run! Run! Go! Move!” All three of them run as fast as they can away from the mysterious creature that is chasing them down. All of a sudden, the ground disappears from under their feet, and they find themselves tumbling down a long slope, limbs flailing wildly all over the place. With a large crash, Chris, Scott and Arzt slam into the jungle floor at the bottom of the hill. After several minutes of silence, broken only by their heavy breathing and faint groans of pain, Chris manages to pulls himself to his feet.
“What the hell was that?” he asks, still out of breath.
“I think it was a slope,” says Scott, who tries to stand but collapses back down to the ground in pain. Arzt winces as he slowly makes his way to his feet.
“I noticed that,” says Chris. “I meant the thing that chased us.”
“Do you…think…it was the thing…from the first night?” gasps Arzt.
“Nah, it sounded totally different,” says Scott, still lying on the ground.
“Yeah, and I don’t think it was big enough to uproot trees,” says Chris. He looks up the slope they had just tumbled down. “Looks like this is going to be a much more dangerous trip than just collecting wood.”
“And to think,” says Scott, finally getting to his feet. “I was worried about getting a splinter.”
“There’s got to be an easier way to get up there,” says Chris. He looks around, as if hoping to see a signpost, and notices something very disturbing lying on the ground. “What the…” He walks towards it slowly, each step bringing with it a dawning (and horrible) truth. “Guys, you really need to see this.” Arzt and Scott walk over to him and look down. Scott looks away quickly. Arzt lets out a small gasp of shock. The three men all look at each other; Chris wearing an expression of utmost disbelief, Arzt looking confused and frightened, Scott looking disgusted. Very slowly, all three of them look down again at the chilling sight before them…

There, right in front of them… Lying on the jungle floor… On a desert island in the middle of nowhere…On top of eerie sounds and sudden rainstorms and mysterious creatures…The most disturbing thing yet…A body. A human body. Worse than that, a skeleton…

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Last edited by Sawbucks on Mon Mar 17, 2008 7:27 pm; edited 2 times in total

I thought that was bloody amazing Sawbucks! I love the way you use all the backround characters rather than the main ones. And it is so cool that you made yourself that guy who's not fastend in properly on the plane, so he flies in the air when turbulance hits! I always wondered who he was! lol.
But I personallt cannot see any fault with it myself. Its a brilliant piece of writing, well done! Very Happy

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I'm always Lost......

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Thank you very much, Kelly. I really appreciate that. It's good using a background character because you can fit them in as if they really were there, e.g. Chris being one of the men Jack shouts over to help lift the landing gear, etc. I'm glad you enjoyed it, I hope everyone else does. When you hear that someone likes your work, you really get that urge to write more, so I could have a very productive weekend ahead of me! Thanks again! Very Happy

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Last edited by Sawbucks on Sat Dec 23, 2006 9:04 pm; edited 1 time in total

No probs

I just look forward to reading some more. Very Happy

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I'm always Lost......

#2 Member of the 'League of X' elite board

Well, I've got a basic plan for the next three episodes (White Rabbit will be a shocker, lol!) and I might even be able to get all three done by Monday. It just depends how busy I am at the weekend (and how hung over I am on Sunday)! I'll try not to keep you waiting for too long though!

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

Wow im impressed

Thank you kindly! Smile

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

I dont normally read stuff like that, but I was really compelled, especially as u added all the bits from the actual show.

But it just gave us another view of LOST. And it seemed really accurate.

Ill look foward to ur next installment Very Happy

Well, I must say I'm honoured that you enjoyed it if you don't really bother with this stuff! I try to keep it as accurate as possible out of sheer respect for the producers, and I also try to keep a healthy balance between stuff we see on the show and my own storylines. Plus, it gives us a chance to see the "things of value" that Arzt mentioned he and others had done in the season 1 finale. Once again, I'm glad you enjoyed it, and I'll try my best to keep the standard up in the next few episodes.

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it was amazing, you got Greg perfect and it all happened on the pilot. I have already rea the first on the channel 4 forum but it doesnt stop being any more amazing. Very Happy

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Yeah, I managed to find part 1 on the channel 4 forums, but I couldn't find any other ones - I can't remember if I ever posted any more of them anyway. Anyway, my weekend was a little busier than expected (Sunday was particularly full seeing as I had made a drunken promise on the Saturday night to attend a golf run), so I had nowhere near as much time on my hands as I would have liked and, unfortunately, 'Tabula Rasa' is only half-complete. But I'll finish it tonight, and try to get 'Walkabout' done as well. So, hopefully, there should be a little something more for you all to read as of tomorrow!

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Lol, I love drunken promises!!! Laughing

Well I'm really looking forward to reading the next installments. Very Happy

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I'm always Lost......

#2 Member of the 'League of X' elite board

im intching to do the pilot part 2 and have decided that i will do it before friday, i need to find the story line so i can add greg in but when i do i will start to write it. i have also decided that i am adding Greg in, not centric him in all, so i will start do like you have done sawbucks, i'm thinking of a flashback on how Kate and Greg meet and found the perfect one.

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

I'm going to try and have a flashback for as many season 1 episodes as possible, though I might be struggling to think of 25! I'm getting slightly frustrated now cos I really want to write but have to sit in this damn office for another 3 hours!!! Mad

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i only have to suffer an hour more and i can go home and start writing.

i have loads of flashbacks but not 25, i used most of them in my season 2 episodes and i have almost run dry. Greg will appear in Kates, Claires and Ana licias so thats easy, its just the made up ones that will be a problem.

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

TABULA RASA

Chris Murray, Scott Jackson and Dr Leslie Arzt stand in shock by the skeleton. After a long, uncomfortable silence, Dr Arzt kneels down beside the skeleton for a closer look.
“How long do you think he’s been here?” asks Chris, also kneeling down.
“I don’t know,” says Arzt quietly. “I’m not exactly an expert at this kind of thing…”
“You’re a science teacher!” shouts Chris. “You must have some idea how long…”
“Long,” says Arzt. “I don’t know, ten…Maybe fifteen years.”
“Fifteen years?” asks Scott.
“About that, yeah,” replies Arzt.
“Do you know how…?” begins Chris.
“His clothes are degraded a little,” says Arzt. “But not enough to cover the fact that they’re splattered with blood. He probably didn’t die of thirst or starvation. My best guess…I’d say he was wounded in some way. Possibly shot.”
“Shot?” asks Scott. “Did he do it himself or…?”
“If he did it himself, there would probably be a gun close by,” says Arzt. “I don’t see one, so that means-”
“Someone else shot him,” Chris finishes. “He wasn’t alone.”
“Whoever did it,” says Arzt. “Obviously lived long enough to get away from here.”
“Maybe they were rescued?” suggests Scott.
“Maybe,” says Arzt. “But this guy certainly wasn’t.” He stands up and looks around for any other clues as to what may have brought about this man’s death. Scott, unable to look at the skeleton any longer, also turns away. Chris, however, remains kneeling, and leans in to examine something on the skeleton.
“Guys,” he says at last, standing up to look at them. Arzt and Scott turn to face him. “You should see this.” They move closer. Chris holds out his hand. “This was pinned to what’s left of his jacket.” Scott and Arzt lean in closer to see the thing in Chris’ outstretched hand. A small metal badge. It is slightly rusted, but still distinguishable as a flag. A flag with a blue vertical band on one side, a red band on the other side, with a white band in the middle. A French flag…

“I still don’t understand what a French man is doing on an island in the South Pacific.”
Chris, Scott and Arzt are on their way back to the beach as night creeps in around them. It had been a very subdued silence that filled the air as they had collected the firewood they had set out to get. Once they were on the move again, however, the silence had subsided, to be replaced with Scott and Arzt’s repetitive conversation of how the skeleton had managed to get on the island, always ending with the same, seemingly unanswerable question of what the man was doing in the first place.
“It’s no less likely for him to be French than any other nationality,” says Arzt for what felt to Chris like the sixteenth time. “A lot of people make similar journeys to the one we were making. Chris is Scottish. It would just be like someone finding his body in the jungle…” He breaks off awkwardly.
“Thanks, Arzt,” says Chris. Just then, however, Chris burst out of the trees to be greeted by the salty air of the ocean. The three men walk towards the numerous campfires that are already lit, and deposit their wood in the dwindling pile that lies next to the fuselage. Without another word, Chris turns away from Scott and Arzt and heads towards his makeshift bed, where Joanna is already asleep. Sighing, Chris lies down on the sand and wraps a blanket around himself. He was not sorry to have left Arzt and Scott to their endless discussion, but now there was nothing to fill the silence but the haunting visions of that skeleton staring up at him with its eyeless sockets…

Chris woke with a start. It had been a long time before he had managed to drift off to sleep, and even then his dreams were tormented with fires and flags and skeletons and guns. Looking up, Chris notices that everyone is rushing towards something by the fuselage.
“Hey, Steve,” he says, stopping him as he walks past. “What’s going on?”
“Sayid, and the others,” Steve says excitedly. “They’re back.”
Chris’ heart almost skips a beat as he runs towards the gathering crowd. Sayid had managed to get the plane’s transceiver working yesterday, and he and a group of survivors had set out for high ground to radio for help. It had been this more than anything that had intensified the need for signal fires. As Chris reaches the back of the crowd, he sees Sayid standing on some of the wreckage, talking to the crowd at large.
“As you and the others know,” Sayid begins, “we hiked up the mountain in an attempt to help the rescue team locate us. The transceiver failed to pick up a signal. We weren’t able to send out a call for help.” Many heads go down at Sayid’s words, including Chris’. “But we’re not giving up. If we gather electronic equipment, your cell phones, laptops, I can boost the signal, and we can try again. But that may take some time, so for now, we should begin rationing our remaining food. If it rains, we should set up tarps to collect water. I need to organise three separate groups. Each group should have a leader. One for water. I’ll organise that. Who’s gonna organise electronics?” Chris throws his hand into the air. “You? Rationing food? OK. And I will need a third group to concern themselves with the construction…”

“So, basically, you want to pull all the unclaimed luggage from the fuselage and sort through it, gathering any electronic equipment you find and putting it over there.”
Sayid is talking to Chris. Chris looks at where he is pointing: A ‘tent’ that was set up early this morning, into which Jack and Hurley had been seen carrying a wounded survivor.
“What, in the tent?” asks Chris. “Jack’s trying to save someone’s life in there. He needs all the space we can give him. It’s gonna be pretty inconvenient for us to be flitting in and out of there with electronics.”
“I was merely thinking that the equipment would be safe in the event of another rainstorm,” says Sayid. “However, you’re probably right. I’ll set up another tent to house the electronics…”
“I’ll set up the tent, Sayid,” says Chris.
“You’re still injured from the crash,” says Sayid. “You shouldn’t do too much…”
“I can put up a tent,” says Chris impatiently. “I’m fine, all right? You just worry about the water.”
“All right,” says Sayid. “But you should still speak to Jack.”
“Jack’s got enough on his plate right now,” mutters Chris, looking over at the tent from which moans of pain had been issuing for a while now. “He doesn’t need anything else to worry about. I can manage…”

Chris and Joanna are setting up the tent for the electronic equipment. Chris had already split all the survivors in his group into pairs and set them to work sorting through the luggage in search of useful electronics.
“Do we really need a tent this big?” asks Joanna.
“We don’t know how much we’re going to find,” replies Chris. “There could be some laptops or anything in there.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” says Joanna. “And we could always put the wood you guys brought back in here, if there’s room to spare. To keep it dry, you know?”
“Yeah,” says Chris slowly. “The wood we brought back.” Chris falls silent, and Joanna senses something is bothering him.
“What happened out there, Chris?”
“What?” asks Chris, snapping back to the present. “What do you mean?”
“Something has obviously got to you,” says Joanna.
“It’s just…” starts Chris, wondering if he should tell her. “My head hurts. That’s all.”
“Well, maybe you should talk to…” begins Joanna.
“I’m not talking to anyone!” snaps Chris. “I’m fine.”
“Hey, Chris,” says someone from the entrance of the tent. Chris looks around to see a male survivor whose name he cannot remember.
“Oh, uh, hi…”
“Neil,” says the man. “This is all we’ve found so far.” Chris looks down at the small pile of electronic equipment – cell phones, hairdryers and flashlights, among other things – in Neil’s hands. Just behind him, outside, thunder crackles, and rain starts to pour down once again.
“Just in time,” smiles Chris.

Night has fallen. Though the rain stopped fairly quickly, Chris’ group had decided to call it a day once the sun began to sink. Chris is sitting by his sleeping area, listening to the increasingly frequent (and chilling) moans of agony coming from the medical tent. Jack had been trying to save the wounded man’s life all day, and seemed adamant not to give up.
Joanna lay sleeping next to Chris. She had went to ‘bed’ without so much as a “Goodnight” in his direction; Though, Chris thought, he had snapped at her when she only had his best interests at heart. But none of them knew how frustrating it was to constantly be told to see the doctor: Didn’t they understand that Chris could manage perfectly well on his own? After everything he had been through, didn’t he deserve a little respect? It had been the same back home in Scotland. But he had lived in Sydney for six months with very little trouble, and any trouble that did arise, he had taken care of himself. Then again, said a voice in the back of Chris’ head, running away is hardly taking care of things…

In flashback, Chris is packing his bags. Lying on his bedside table is a plane ticket. There is a knock on the door, and a man roughly four years younger than Chris walks into the room.
“What, you here to try and talk me out of this?” says Chris angrily. “Because you’re wasting your time…”
“I just came to check that this is really what you want to do,” says the man.
“What I want to do?” asks Chris sceptically. “This has sod all to do with what I want! I have to go. I’ve got no choice.”
“Really?” asks the man. “I don’t see anyone forcing you into this!”
“Do you really expect me to stay after what happened?” shouts Chris. “If I stay, we could all end up dead!”
“And if you run,” says the man. “Everyone you leave behind might end up dead anyway. Chris, you can’t run forever!”
“What am I supposed to do?” asks Chris.
“Confront your demons, don’t hide from them,” says the man.
“You have no idea about my demons!” shouts Chris.
“I have a better idea than you know,” says the man.
“Oh, yeah?” says Chris. “Do you know that it was my fault, what happened four years ago? Do you know that because of what I did that day, she’s dead?” The man says nothing. “That’s right. So don’t stand there thinking you know the whole story…”
“But I can’t just let you go,” says the man. “You’re my brother, for God’s sake! We’re supposed to look out for each other!”
“You can’t look out for me, Sean,” says Chris, a tear trickling down his cheek. “Not this time.”
“Chris, I’m telling you,” says Sean. “Running away is not the answer. You’re never going to erase your past, no matter how hard you try.”
“Thanks for the advice,” says Chris. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a plane to catch.”
“Chris, wait!” shouts Sean. “You can’t just hop on a plane to Australia and…”
“Don’t tell me what I can’t do!” shouts Chris. And with that, he picks up his suitcase and leaves the room.

The following morning on the island, Joanna wakes up to see that Chris is gone. Looking around, she sees Jack the doctor and his friend, Kate, sitting together in the sand, looking out to the ocean. She looks around and notices the big guy emptying his shoes of sand as he listens to music, the pregnant Australian woman rubbing her stomach and talking to her unborn baby, and Boone bringing his sister, Shannon, a pair of sunglasses, but Chris is nowhere to be seen.
“Morning,” says a voice from behind her. She looks around to see the Australian man with the sewed-up gash on his side.
“Uh, morning,” says Joanna. “You, uh, haven’t seen Chris around, have you?”
“Who, the fiery Scotsman?” asks the man. “Nah. But I’d consider myself lucky, if I were you. The man seems to be wound up so tight that you could sneeze and he’d explode at you.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” says Chris, walking over to Joanna and the Australian man, who snorts and walks away. Chris looks down at Joanna. “I brought you something.” He lays down a tray with several leaves (each acting as a plate for a different sliced fruit) on it. “A little something to say sorry for being ‘wound up too tight.’” Joanna chuckles.
“Thank you,” she says. And then, completely out of the blue, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek.
“You’re welcome,” says Chris, smiling widely.

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Last edited by Sawbucks on Tue May 29, 2007 6:56 pm; edited 3 times in total

I'm sorry to say that I didn't get Walkabout finished last night - the Da Vinci Code DVD got the better of me! But no matter, I might get some done tonight after rugby training, and if not, I'll get it completed tomorrow night. In theory. Wink

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That was really great! you fanfics are amazing! Very Happy

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Thanks a lot! Very Happy

I tried to fit your chracter, Rachel, in but couldn't really find the right place. But look out for her in Walkabout!!!

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Thats great. Thanks. Wink

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nice one sawbucks, really enjoyed it. Very Happy

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"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

WALKABOUT

It is night, and Chris awakes to clattering and grunting sounds coming from inside the fuselage. He leaps to his feet and walks towards the other survivors, most of whom are already awake.
“What is it?” asks Kate.
“Somebody’s in there,” says the pregnant Australian girl.
“Everyone in there’s dead,” notes Sayid.
“Sawyer,” says Jack.
“Right behind you, jackass,” says Sawyer. Jack takes out a small flashlight, and approaches the fuselage.
“Jack,” says Kate. She, Charlie (the English man that went with Jack and Kate to find the cockpit) and Sawyer, who is carrying a larger flashlight, follow Jack towards the fuselage. There are a few moments in which no one can hear what is going on, then, quite suddenly, Jack, Kate, Sawyer and Charlie come running out of the fuselage.
“Oh, crud. Now what?” asks the big American guy, as people run for cover. Three large creatures come running out after Jack and the others, and take off into the jungle.
“They’ve gone,” says Sayid. Sun, a woman from Korea, says something in Korean that only her husband, Jin, can understand.
“What the bloody hell was that?” asks Charlie.
“Boars,” says the man called John, smiling.

The following morning, Chris, his head still pounding, is looking for Jack the doctor. He spots him walking through the camp, and Chris catches up with him.
“Uh, Jack?” says Chris awkwardly, realising that up until now he hadn’t said a word to the doctor.
“Yeah,” says Jack, turning round to look at him. “Craig, was it?”
“Chris,” Chris corrects him.
“How’s your head, Chris?” asks Jack.
“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” replies Chris.
“Yeah? What can I…” starts Jack. He then spots some sort of commotion taking place ahead of them, and jogs towards the group. Chris follows, and they see that Sawyer and the big guy are wrestling.
“Hey!” shouts Jack. “What’s going on?”
“Jethro here’s hoarding the last of the peanuts,” says the big guy.
“My own stash. I found it in there,” says Sawyer.
“What about the rest of the food?” Jack asks the big guy.
“There is no rest of the food, dude,” says the big guy. “We kinda…ate it all.”
“What?” asks Shannon.
“Nothing’s left?” says a female survivor standing next to Chris. “What are you talking about?” The crowd begins to mutter.
“Okay, everybody, just calm down,” says Jack.
“We can find food,” Sayid tells the group. “There are plenty of things on this island we can use for sustenance.” Sawyer sits down on one of two chairs – attached to each other – that were taken from the plane.
“And exactly how are we going to find this sustenance?” he asks doubtfully. A large hunting knife flies into the chair next to Sawyer. Everyone looks around to see who threw it; John is standing there, a silver case by his feet.
“We hunt,” he declares.
“How’d you get that knife on the plane?” asks Kate.
“Checked it,” John says simply. Jack pulls the knife out of the chair and hands it back to John.
“You either have very good aim, or very bad aim, Mr…” says Jack.
“Locke,” says Michael. “His name is Locke.”
“Okay, Mr Locke,” says Jack. “What is it that we’re hunting?”
“We know there are wild boar on the island,” says Locke. “Razorbacks, by the look of them. The ones that came into camp last night were piglets. A hundred, 150-pounds each. Which means that there’s a mother nearby. A 250-pound rat, with scimitar-like tusks, and a surly disposition, who’d like nothing more than to eviscerate anything that comes near. A boar’s usual mode of attack is to circle round and charge from behind, so I figure it will take at least three of us to distract her long enough for me to flank one of the piglets, pin it and slit its throat.” Sawyer turns to look at Jack.
“And you gave him his knife back?” he asks.
“Well, if you’ve got a better idea…” begins Jack.
“Better than three of you wandering off into the magic forest to bag a hunk o’ ham with nothing but a little bitty hunting knife?” asks Sawyer. “Hell, no. It’s the best idea I ever heard.” Locke turns around, and lifts up the lid of the silver case with his foot. Inside is a full set of hunting knives.
“Who is this guy?” asks the big American guy.

Chris is searching through the luggage in the fuselage.
“What you looking for?” asks a woman nearby. Chris looks up at her: She looks young – not much over 20 – but very attractive. Chris, used to hearing so many people speaking with American accents for the past few days, is slightly taken aback to hear that her accent is English.
“Uh…” Chris hesitates. “I’m, uh, just looking for my backpack. It hasn’t turned up since the crash, and I thought, seeing as how we’re burning the fuselage tonight, I’d better get looking.”
Jack had decided that the fuselage be set alight at sundown, serving a double purpose – The bodies inside would be cremated as opposed to being left to rot (Since the bodies were most likely to be what attracted the camp’s visitors the previous night), and it would also act as the “mother of all signal fires,” as Arzt liked to call it. The news that the fuselage was being burned tonight had brought home to Chris that he needed to find his backpack quick.
“What’s in it?” asks the woman.
“What’s in what?” asks Chris, still lost in his own thoughts.
“Your backpack?” says the woman.
“Oh, uh,” Chris begins awkwardly. “Just some personal stuff, you know. My passport, my wallet…”
“You want me to help you look?” asks the woman.
“That would be great!” says Chris gratefully. “But, I, uh…I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Rachel,” says the woman.
“Rachel,” repeats Chris. “That’s a nice name.”
“Thanks,” says Rachel, smiles. “Have you got a name?”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” says Chris. “I’m Chris.”
“Chris?” says Rachel. “Well, Chris, we should get looking for your bag.”
“Wha…Oh, yeah,” says Chris. “Right. My bag. Yeah.”
Chris and Rachel start looking through the luggage. After 60 unsuccessful minutes, Rachel looks up at Chris, who is still searching frantically for his pack.
“You want to tell me what else is in there, Chris?” she asks. “What you’re really looking for?”
“It’s nothing,” lies Chris. “It’s…It’s stupid. I don’t know why I still carry it around with me.”
“What is it?” asks Rachel.
“It doesn’t matter,” says Chris, standing up. “My head hurts. I’m gonna find the doctor. Thanks for your help, Rachel. You should get out of here. There’s no point hanging around all these bodies when you don’t need to.” He and Rachel walk out of the fuselage and Joanna, spotting them, walks over to them.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey,” says Chris.
“Where have you been?” asks Joanna, as Rachel walks away. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“I was in the fuselage,” replies Chris. “Looking for my bag, you know.”
“With her?” asks Joanna, watching Rachel walk away from them.
“She was helping me,” says Chris. “Have you seen Jack around, my head’s really…”
“Jack’s over there,” says Joanna coldly. She points a short way down the beach, then storms off. Chris looks over at Michael, who is standing nearby, preparing to go out boar-hunting with Kate and John. Michael gives him a small shrug, and Chris walks in Jack’s direction, shaking his head.

Jack is piling up dry wood outside the fuselage, his nose and mouth covered to stop the smell of the dead bodies.
“Jack!” shouts Chris, walking over to him.
“Hey, Chris,” says Jack, looking over at him and pulling down his ‘mask’. “How’s the head?”
“I think it’s getting worse,” says Chris. Jack takes a good look at him.
“It’s probably a concussion, mixed with a little dehydration,” says Jack. “You drinking enough water?”
“Yeah, I think so,” says Chris.
“Well, just keep making sure you do,” says Jack. “Other than that, there’s nothing you can really do except to take it easy. Don’t try and do too much, you don’t wanna strain yourself, especially in this heat.”
“Thanks, Jack,” says Chris quietly.

The big American guy is looking through the luggage that has already been pulled from the fuselage. Chris walks up to him slowly, unsure how best to start the conversation.
“Uh, excuse me,” says Chris.
“Hey, dude,” says the big guy, looking up at Chris. “How’s it goin’?”
“Uh, good, thanks,” says Chris. “I’m Chris, by the way.”
“Hurley,” says the big guy, holding out a hand, which Greg shakes.
“So, Hurley,” says Chris. “You’ve been sorting through the luggage all morning, right?”
“Yeah,” says Hurley. “All morning long. Yahoo.” Chris chuckles.
“Anyway,” says Chris. “Have you came across any…wallets, or anything?”
“Sorry, dude,” says Hurley. “No wallets. But you should talk to Claire, the pregnant chick. She’s been gathering all the personal stuff for the funeral thing tonight. She might have yours.”
“All right, I’ll talk to her,” says Chris. “Thanks, Hurley.”
“No problem, dude,” says Hurley. Just then, Charlie walks up to Hurley, carrying a stick with a sharp piece of metal tied to the end.
“Hey, Hurley,” says Charlie. “Do you know how to fish?”

Claire, the pregnant Australian girl, is organising the personal belongings of all the dead when Chris walks up to her.
“Hello, Claire,” says Chris. Claire looks up at him.
“Hi, um…” says Claire.
“Chris.”
“Chris, yeah,” says Claire. “Sorry, there’s a lot of names to remember.”
“Tell me about it,” says Chris. “How’s the…You know, the baby?”
“He’s good, thanks,” says Claire. “He’s moving around a lot, so I guess that’s a good thing.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” says Chris. “Listen, Claire, I need to ask you something. Hurley told me you’re sorting out all the wallets and stuff…”
“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot,” says Claire, looking around. She picks up a wallet and holds it out to him. “That Sawyer man brought it to me.” Chris opens the wallet and looks at his own picture inside. “I guess he didn’t recognise you from the photograph. Your hair was longer then.”
“Yeah,” says Chris quietly. “Yeah, it was.”
“Who’s the woman in the photo with you?” asks Claire. Chris looks down at the woman hugging him in the photo.
“She’s…just a friend,” says Chris. “Thank you, Claire.” He walks a short distance, and stops again. He looks through his wallet, and pulls out a slightly crushed envelope. Relieved that it was still there, Chris opens the envelope and looks inside.

In flashback, Chris is in a large hall, where dozens of couples are dancing together: The men are all in kilts, the women in elegant dresses. Chris is dancing with a very attractive woman in a lime green dress: The woman in the photograph in his wallet. Hanging on one of the walls of the hall, below a large clock, is a banner that reads “Hogmanay 2002”. As the hands on the clock approach midnight, Chris stops dancing and pulls the woman to the centre of the floor.
“Chris, what are you…” begins the woman.
“You’ll see,” says Chris, smiling. The music stops and all the people in the hall stop dancing and turn to look at the large clock on the wall. As the second-hand draws ever closer to the number 12, Chris kneels down on one knee and pulls a small velvet-covered box from his jacket pocket.
“Melissa,” he says. “This last year with you has been the best of my life. After the accident, I told myself that my life couldn’t get any worse. But I couldn’t see how it could get any better either. But you made it better. Better than better. You gave me something I hadn’t felt for two years: True happiness. And…” He pauses and looks up at Melissa. “I want to be happy for the rest of my life. Melissa Jayne Parker,” he opens the box to reveal a golden ring encrusted with a beautiful glittering diamond. “Will you marry me?” Melissa looks down at Chris, tears welling in her eyes. She opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, the crowd around them begins to shout:
“Ten, nine, eight…”
“I…” begins Melissa.
“…seven, six, five, four…” the crowd chants as one.
“Of course I will!” shouts Melissa.
“…three, two, one!” shout the crowd. Chris slips the ring on Melissa’s finger and stands up to look her in the face.
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” screams the crowd, as the clock begins to chime.
“Happy New Year, Chris,” says Melissa, tears of joy running down her rosy cheeks.
“Happy New Year, Melissa,” says Chris, barely able to contain his happiness. “My fiancée.” He and Melissa lean towards each other and kiss.

Back on the island, Chris reaches into the crumpled envelope and pulls out the thing inside: The diamond ring he had proposed to Melissa with. He closes his eyes and sighs, as a tear trickles down his face.

Night has fallen. The survivors are gathered round the burning fuselage, as Claire reads the details of the passengers who didn’t survive the crash.
“Judith Martha Wexler from Denton, Texas,” she reads. “I guess she was going to catch a connecting flight. Um, she wore corrective lenses and she was an organ donor, or at least would have been. Steve and Kristen, I don't know their last name, but they were really in love and were going to be married. At least, wherever they are now, they're not alone…”
“I’m sorry,” says a quiet voice next to Chris. He turns around to see Joanna.
“What for?” asks Chris.
“For being…You know, moody,” says Joanna. “It was just…when I saw you with that Rachel girl…I overreacted.”
“That’s okay,” says Chris. Joanna smiles, and holds his hand. Chris’ other hand, in his trouser pocket, clutches the envelope tightly, and Chris lets out a small sigh.
‘This is it,’ he thinks to himself. ‘It’s time to move on…’

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Last edited by Sawbucks on Tue May 29, 2007 6:55 pm; edited 1 time in total

brilliant, apsolutly brilliant! thats the best so far well done.

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

I am amazed. your writing style is fab! I hope you are saving all of these, you wouldn't want to lose them!
Is your character chris romantically involve with Joanna from before the crash?
And thanks for including mine, thanks loads. Very Happy

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Thanks, guys! Embarassed

I'm not going to answer the question about Joanna just yet! I haven't decided whether or not to make them connected pre-crash. Chris will definitely have connections with some of the other survivors though - I've already planned a Charlie connection and a tiny little might-not-notice-it Jack connection. And, yeah, I'm saving them. I don't mean to blow my own trumpet (I'm more of a percussion kind of guy Wink

) but I'm pretty proud of my work so far.
Cheers again! Very Happy

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WHITE RABBIT

“Jack! Jack! Jack! Hey, Jack!”
Chris wakes up in time to see Charlie sprinting down the beach towards the doctor. “There’s someone out there!” He shouts, pointing out to the ocean. “You gotta…The current!”
“What?” asks Jack, standing up.
“There’s someone out there! Look!” Charlie screams. He points out to someone thrashing about frantically in the water.
“Help!” screams the woman in the sea.
“I woke up, and she’s…I don’t swim. I don’t swim,” says Charlie. Jack runs towards the sea, takes his shoes and top off, and bounds into the water. As he swims out in the direction of the screaming person, a watching crowd gathers on the beach. Jack stops swimming and dives under the surface. He comes back up empty handed, but dives down again, this time emerging with someone. Jack starts swimming towards the shore, helping the other person along. Jack finally reaches the shore with the swimmer, who turns out to be Boone. Kate and Charlie run forwards to carry Boone back onto dry land, and Jack heads back into the water.
“Jack!” Kate shouts after him.
“There’s someone else still out there,” Jack shouts back. He takes off into the water, and swims out towards the other swimmer, even further out than Boone was.
“Chris!” shouts Steve, running forward. Chris turns around to face him. “It’s Joanna.”
“What?” asks Chris, confused.
“Out in the water,” says Steve. “That’s Joanna out in the water.” Chris looks out at the figure thrashing around in the ocean, then looks at the group of survivors around him. He had been so caught up in the excitement of Jack trying to save Boone that he hadn’t even noticed that Joanna wasn’t right there beside him. Chris looks out at the clean blue water, and the speck in the distance that was Joanna, being taken further and further out by the current…

“So…who was she?” asks Kate. She is standing talking to Dr Arzt and Steve. Chris is sitting in silence nearby.
“Her…” begins Arzt. “Her name was Joanna.”
“Joanna,” repeats Kate. “Why was she in Australia?”
“I, uh…” stammers Arzt. “I don’t actually know. I never asked her.”
“She was scuba diving,” says Chris slowly, speaking for the first time since Jack had came ashore, unable to get to Joanna in time. “Off the Barrier Reef.”
“Scuba diving?” asks Kate. Chris gives a small nod.
“She wasn’t supposed to be on the plane,” says Chris quietly.
“Sorry?” says Kate.
“Our plane,” says Chris. “Flight 815. She wasn’t supposed to be on it. She got an ear infection…The doctor, he grounded her for two days. She had to change her flight. She wasn’t supposed to be on the plane.” At that, Chris falls silent again. After a few moments, Kate walks away. Arzt and Steve sit down beside Chris.
“It’s my fault,” says Chris at last.
“What?” asks Steve. “Don’t be stupid…”
“If I could swim, I could have saved her,” says Chris.
“You can’t blame yourself for what happened,” says Arzt. “It’s not your fault, Chris. There was nothing you could do.”

In flashback, Chris is sitting in the waiting room of a hospital in a state of shock and grief. There are splatters of blood on both his face and white shirt. As he paces back and forth, a doctor approaches him.
“Mr Murray?” asks the doctor.
“Yeah,” replies Chris. “How is she? Is she gonna be all right?”
“I’m afraid…” begins the doctor. “Your wife…She’s…She didn’t make it.”
“What?” asks Chris.
“She…She passed away,” says the doctor. A tear trickles down Chris’ cheek. He suddenly feels numb inside, as if someone has ripped out a part of him.
“She can’t have,” says Chris, looking shocked. “You must have made a mistake.”
“I know it’s hard to take in,” says the doctor, consolingly. “We tried our best to save her, but…Your wife was shot four times. In the chest. The damage was done long before she was brought in to the Emergency Room. I’m very sorry, Mr Murray.”
“It should have been me,” says Chris quietly.
“I’m sorry, sir?” says the doctor.
“It should have been me,” repeats Chris. “It should have been me that was shot. Not her. I should be the one lying in that room. I should have died!” He collapses into a nearby chair and begins sobbing loudly.
“I’m very sorry,” the doctor says again. “But don’t blame yourself for what happened. There was nothing you could do…”

On the island, Chris is sitting alone on the beach, staring out at the ocean. Nearby, Kate, Sayid and Locke are discussing something.
“Claire, the pregnant girl, she collapsed with the heat,” says Kate. “When we went to give her water, it was all gone. Someone must have taken it.”
“Where is the doctor?” asks Locke.
“I don’t know,” answers Kate. “No one can find him.”
“Was this the last of the camp’s water supply?” asks Sayid.
“Yeah,” replies Kate. Sayid lets out a sigh.
“Keeping it all in one place,” he says. “Foolish.”
“I can go into the jungle, try to find fresh water,” suggests Kate.
“You’re not going alone,” says Sayid.
“When the others find out the water’s gone, it’s gonna get ugly,” says Locke. “And when they find out someone pinched it, it’s gonna get uglier. I’ll go. Camp needs you two here. Especially with the doctor gone. And besides, I know where to look.” He starts walking up the beach. Chris thinks about something for a few seconds, then gets up and chases after him.
“John!” Chris shouts. Locke stops and turns round to look at him “You’re going into the jungle to find water, right?”
“That’s right,” says Locke.
“You mind if I come with you?” asks Chris.
“Well, no offence, Chris,” says Locke. “But do you really think that the best thing for you to be doing right now is go tromping into the jungle? What with the concussion, and…your grief over this morning’s incident.”
“Well, no offence to you, John,” says Chris. “But I think it’s up to me to decide what the best thing for me to do is. I need something to do – Just sitting around all day - It’s depressing. And besides, I want to help get some water for Claire.” Locke ponders for a moment, then nods.

Locke and Chris are walking through the jungle in search of water. Locke stops and holds a bottle under the tip of a large leaf, and pours the moisture off the leaf and into the bottle.
“Where did you learn to do all this stuff, John?” asks Chris.
“All what stuff?” asks Locke.
“You know, the survival stuff,” says Chris. “Hunting boar, finding water…”
“I used to go hunting with my dad,” replies Locke.
“Your dad took you hunting?” asks Chris. “I wish my dad was more like yours. My dad barely took me to school. I would have loved to do that sort of stuff with him.”
“Believe me,” says Locke. “You do NOT wish your dad was more like mine.” Chris smiles.
“So, why were you in Australia?” asks Chris. “Hunting?”
“What makes you say that?” asks Locke.
“There are all sort of events like that in Australia,” says Chris. “Wandering around the Outback, eating worms…”
“You seem to know a lot about it,” says Locke, smiling.
“Yeah, I lived in Australia for six months,” says Chris. “Kind of like an extended holiday. Anyway, all the travel agents advertise this sort of stuff. There’s this aboriginal rite of passage thing called the ‘Walkabout’. Have you ever heard of it?” Locke pauses.
“No, I can’t say that I have,” he says after a while. He leans down to collect more water from another leaf. Suddenly, there is a rustling in the bushes ahead of them.
“What was that?” whispers Chris. Locke creeps forward to get a good look at whatever it is, then moves back towards Chris.
“I think it’s Jack,” he says quietly.
“Jack?” asks Chris. “What the hell’s he doing out here?”
“I don’t know,” says Locke. “But he looks like he’s chasing his own shadow back and forth. Something’s not right. I’m gonna see if he’s okay. You head back to camp.”
“What?” asks Chris.
“We’ve filled four bottles,” says Locke. “You take them back to Claire. I’ll check on Jack.” Chris looks as though he is about to argue some more. “Claire needs that water, Chris. Now go.” Chris takes the now full water bottles from Locke, and heads back in the direction they came from. He is about half a mile from the beach when he hears more rustling in the bushes. He stops and looks around.
“Hello?” he says. “Who’s there?” There is no answer. Chris shrugs and walks on. There is another rustling noise, this time from behind him. Suddenly, before he can so much as open his mouth, an arm flies round his neck from behind him, as a hand covers his eyes. Chris drops the water bottles in shock, as his attacker tightens their arm around his throat.
‘I’m dying! I’m dying!’ Chris thinks to himself, as the attacker continues to strangle him. Chris, not one to give up without a fight, starts swinging his fists behind him in a blind attempt to make contact with the person who is squeezing the life out of him. After a few attempts, his right fist collides with the side of his attacker’s face, and both of them fall backwards. Chris makes to stand up, but before he can, the attacker picks up a stick of bamboo from the ground nearby, and brings it down on Chris’ head. Chris sways for a second, then the attacker hits him again, and he knew no more…

It is dark by the time Chris finally regains consciousness. It takes him several moments before he can regain any recollection of why he is lying on the cold, uncomfortable jungle floor, and why the throbbing in his head has increased tenfold. Then suddenly, as if someone had just switched on a light in his head, he jumps to his feet and looks around. There is no sign of the person who had launched the assault on him. What intrigued Chris, though, was the fact that the water bottles were still here, lying on the ground, eight feet in front of him. He had assumed, after all, that the attack had been to get hold of the water. Chris walks over to the bottles and looks down at them. They are empty. What is more, the ground around them is damp. Whoever attacked him had emptied out the water. They had not attacked him to steal his water. They had attacked him to stop him bringing the water back to the camp. But for whatever reason, Chris did not know.

Chris returned to the camp to see the survivors huddled around Boone and Charlie; Charlie, it seemed, had caught Boone red-handed with some of the camp’s water supply.
“Claire could’ve died,” says a furious Charlie.
“I tried to give her some sooner,” says Boone. “But it got out of hand. No one would’ve understood.”
“What is going on?” asks Kate, moving forward.
“Someone had to take responsibility,” says Boone. “Forty would have never last…” Charlie moves to hit Boone, while Sayid tries to hold him back.
“Leave him alone!” someone shouts from the edge of the jungle. Everyone looks around to see Jack walking back into camp. “It’s been six days, and we’re all still waiting. Waiting for someone to come. But what if they don’t? We have to stop waiting. We need to start figuring things out. A woman died this morning just going for a swim. And he tried to save her, and now you’re about to crucify him? We can’t do this. “Every man for himself” is not gonna work. It’s time to start organising. We need to figure out how we’re gonna survive here. Now I found water, fresh water, up in the valley. I’ll take a group in at first light. If you don’t wanna come, then find another way to contribute. Last week, most of us were strangers. But we’re all here now. And God knows how long we’re gonna be here. But if we can’t live together, we’re gonna die alone.”
As the crowd starts to break away, Chris looks around at his fellow survivors. Was the person that mysteriously attacked him standing right before his eyes? Chris would almost have understood if they had done it for the water – In these conditions, it really is survival of the fittest. But to attack him then pour away the water? Chris couldn’t think why ANYONE would want to stop him bringing water into the camp…

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Last edited by Sawbucks on Wed Mar 19, 2008 6:15 pm; edited 3 times in total

Now I've came to a bit of "Writer's block", lol! I have a beast of a storyline planned for Confidence Man through to All The Best Cowboys Have Daddy Issues, but the problem is I'm struggling to think of a decent enough story for House Of The Rising Sun and The Moth. I've had several ideas, but I'm worried that they'll be so boring you won't want to read my work anymore. So I'm apologizing in advance that the next two episodes might be a bit dry, but know that the following few episodes get kinda juicy!

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It happens to the best of us Sawbucks! Confused

But that was a great eppy. Very Happy

Waiting in antisipation for the next few...... Very Happy

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I'm always Lost......

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Why did it happen to me then? Question

I'm glad you liked it, Kelly. Apologies to both you and Blitz though, I couldn't fit them in since a lot of it took place in the jungle. But, then again, since I'm struggling for a decent storyline for the next eppy or two, maybe I can develop Chris' relationship with Greg and Rachel.

Watch this space...

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nice one, i cant wait to start white rabbit, that was awesome, full of unanswered questions i asume you are going to answer as you write.

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Yep, I'm gonna leave the identity of the attacker unanswered for a few episodes, but know this: When you find out who it was, you will be blown away!!! Twisted Evil

(Okay, maybe not to that extent)

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Lol.

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I'm always Lost......

#2 Member of the 'League of X' elite board

Howdy folks! I'm pleased to say I FINALLY have an idea for the next two episodes! Blitz, you will be pleased to know that Greg is gonna be included in "House Of The Rising Sun", even getting his hands dirty, and all the Sawyer-lovers should know that everyone's favourite confidence man will have a lot of "screen time" in "The Moth"!!! Writing will commence shortly, so keep your eyes peeled for them...

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YAY, and whilst your doing that i will read the transcript to "Special and i will get writing that by wednesday.

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Hurray! Double whammy!!!

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Well here it is, at long last! Apologies to the few fans that have been waiting for the next instalment, all I can say is that I'm back into the swing of writing! (For now)

HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN

Chris is sitting alone on the beach, staring around the camp at his fellow survivors. One of them…One of them attacked him, and stole his water. Not just stole it, poured it away. But who? And why? Unable to stand the ever-questioning voice in the back of his head any longer, he stands up and decides to go for a walk to hopefully keep him distracted. He heads off along the tree line, and sees the Australian man, whom he has had various encounters with, walk out of the jungle carrying a backpack full of freshly picked fruit.

Chris has not walked far when Hurley walks over to him.
“Hey, dude,” he says, cheerfully.
“Hey, yourself,” says Chris, sensing that Hurley is wanting something from him.
“So…” starts Hurley. “You’re Scottish, right?”
“How could you tell?” asks Chris, smiling.
“Uh…You’re accent,” says Hurley.
“It was a joke,” smiles Chris.
“Oh, right, uh, good one,” says Hurley awkwardly. “Anyway, do you know how to hunt?”
“I’m sorry?” asks Chris.
“Well, don’t Scottish people, like, hunt stuff?” asks Hurley.
“Yeah, it’s our third favourite pass-time,” says Chris. “After playing the bagpipes and combing our ginger hair.”
“Uh…What?” says Hurley, confusedly.
“Don’t you think it’s a little stereotypical to say that Scottish people ‘hunt stuff’?” smiles Chris.
“Well, do you know how to hunt, or don’t you, dude?” asks Hurley.
“On a good day, I can shoot a pheasant between the eyes at 100 yards,” says Chris. Hurley is unsure whether he is serious or not.
“Well, do you think you could go out into the jungle and…You know, kill stuff?” he says.
“Sure,” says Chris. “Just let me go fetch my gun.” Hurley smiles.
“Dude, you could’ve just said you didn’t know how to hunt,” he says.
“And where would the fun be in that, eh?” asks Chris. Still smiling, Hurley walks off.

Claire is sitting alone by her shelter, writing in her diary. Chris, who had not spoken to her since the day of the fuselage-burning, thought he had better check in on her, since Charlie, to whom she seemed to have became friends with, was busy preparing to go to the newly discovered caves to get water.
“Hey, Claire,” says Chris, walking towards her and holding out a mango for her.
“Oh, hey, Chris,” says Claire, looking up from her diary, and taking the mango gratefully.
“Do you mind if I join you?” asks Chris.
“No, not at all,” says Claire, closing her diary and smiling. “I could use the company.”
“So,” begins Chris, sitting down next to Claire. “How are things…You know, with the baby? He still moving around?”
“A lot,” says Claire. “But I suppose that’s better than him not moving at all.”
“Him?” asks Chris. “You know it’s a boy?”
“Well, no, actually,” says Claire. “It’s just what I’m calling him until…”
“Until you find out?” suggests Chris.
“Yeah,” says Claire. “You probably think I’m weird.”
“Hell, I’ve done weirder things in my time,” smiles Chris. Claire laughs.
“Like what, exactly?” she asks.
“You’re probably better off not knowing,” says Chris. “So…How are you holding up in this heat?”
“Quite well, actually,” says Claire. “The sun isn’t too bad if I wear a hat, and I can cope with the heat as long as I drink enough water.”
“Well, don’t worry,” reassures Chris. “Jack and the others are heading off to the caves. They’ll bring back plenty of water shortly.” He looks across the camp to see John, Charlie, Kate and Jack walking towards the jungle, bags slung over their backs. Then, something else catches his gaze: The Australian man, who appears to be turning his shelter upside-down, searching for something. How odd….
“Yeah, I hope they’re OK out there,” says Claire, and Chris comes back to his senses.
“Wha…? Oh, yeah,” he says. “Yeah, they’ll be fine. And in the meantime, I have something for you.” He reaches into his pack and pulls out a bottle of water. “I managed to save some from the supply after we dished it out last night. Just for you.” As he hands Claire the bottle, Sawyer walks past nearby, looking longingly at the bottle of water. Chris glares at Sawyer, who takes a bite out of the apple in his hand, and walks on. Chris stares after him, thinking.
“Wow, thank you so much!” says Claire happily. Chris, lost in his own thoughts for the second time in the space of minutes, looks around and smiles.
“Don’t mention it,” he says. Suddenly, a short distance down the beach, trouble has started. Chris leaps to his feet and looks down to the coastline, to see Jin, the Korean man, standing over Michael, punching him repeatedly. Michael’s son, Walt, and Jin’s wife, Sun, are both standing nearby, shouting. A little way in front of Chris, Sayid and Sawyer spot what’s happening and sprint towards the fight, prising the two apart. Chris turns round to look at Claire.
“Stay here,” he says. “I’ll go and find out what’s going on.” He bounds down the beach in time to see Jin being handcuffed to a piece of the plane wreckage.
“What happened?” Sayid asks Michael, who is gasping for breath.
“I don’t know, he just attacked me for no reason!” shouts Michael.
“What’s going on?” Chris asks.
“Michael and Jin were fighting…” starts Sayid.
“Fighting?” asks Michael, sarcastically. “No, no, no, no. ‘Fighting’ is when both people hit each other. That, just now? That was him hitting me. I didn’t get the chance to fight back, ‘cos he just came up out of nowhere and jumped on me.”
“But why?” asks Chris.
“I don’t know!” shouts Michael.
“Then how are we going to find out?” asks Sayid. “Tell us exactly what happened.”
“I’m getting tired of saying this,” says Michael, impatiently. “I was just walking the beach with my son, and all of a sudden this dude is all up on me. I didn’t do anything.”
Jin shouts something in Korean at Michael.
“Surely there must be something you’re not telling us,” Sayid asks Michael.
“Surely?” asks Michael. “Where are you from, man?” Sayid pauses for a moment.
“Tikrit,” he says at last. “Iraq.”
“Okay,” begins Michael. “I don’t know how it is in Iraq, but in the United States of America, where I’m from, Korean people don’t like black people. Did you know that?” Sayid shakes his head.
Jin shouts something in Korean again.
“So maybe you ought to talk to him!” Michael says, getting more annoyed by the minute.
Sun says something in Korean, and points to her wrist.
“The cuffs stay on,” says Sayid.
“Little louder, Omar,” says Sawyer. “Maybe then she’ll understand you.”
“Guys,” starts Hurley, looking concerned. “That Chinese dude’s gonna get pretty crispy out here. How long you gonna keep him tied down like that?”
“He tried to kill Michael,” says Sayid. “We all saw it. The cuffs stay on until we know why.” Michael turns to look at Walt.
“Come on, man,” he says. “Let’s go.” The rest of the survivors walk away, leaving Sun alone with Jin. As Chris walks back towards Claire, he sees Sawyer pull out another apple and take a bite. He looks over to the Australian man, who had not run over to see about the commotion, and who is still searching frantically for something. Chris, struck by a sudden idea, stops walking. Thinking things over, he slowly makes his way towards the Australian man’s tent. He didn’t want to have to do this, but it was probably the only way to get any answers…

The Australian man is still looking around for something in his tent when Chris walks over to him
“So…” Chris begins. “Looking for something, or just having a good clear-out?”
The Australian man looks up to see who had spoken, and snorts.
“What do you want, Hamish?” says the man.
“Actually, mate,” says Chris. “I just wanted to introduce myself, seeing as how we haven’t actually done it properly. I’m Chris.” He holds out his hand. The Aussie man looks shocked and hesitates for a few seconds, then shakes it.
“Greg,” replies the man.
“Pleased to meet you, Greg,” says Chris. “So, what are you looking for?”
“Why are you so interested?” asks Greg, eyeing him suspiciously.
“You’re looking for your bag of fruit, aren’t you?” asks Chris.
“How do you know?” asks Greg. “Did you take it?”
“Of course not,” says Chris. “I saw you walking out of the jungle with it this morning. But I think I know who might have it.”
“Who?” asks Greg eagerly.
“I’ll tell you, and it won’t come as a surprise who it is, but you have to promise me something,” says Chris.
“Promise you what?” says Greg.
“That when I tell you, you won’t just attack them,” says Chris. “Promise me that you’ll talk to them sensibly and listen to what they’ve got to say.”
“OK, I can do that,” says Greg. “Now, tell me who has it.”
“I think it might be Sawyer,” says Chris. “He’s been eating a lot of fruit this morning.”
“Sawyer…” says Greg. “Well, you were right: I’m not surprised. But why are you even telling me this?”
“Because last night, after I went out into the jungle with John to get some water, I was attacked,” says Chris. “The water I was carrying was poured away. I don’t know why Sawyer would pour it away instead of keeping it for himself, but I don’t know why anyone else would attack me either.”
Greg looks at him for a few seconds, then stands up.
“Right, let’s go get that thieving son of a bitch,” he says.

Sawyer is walking through the jungle, a fresh packet of cigarettes in his hand. Suddenly, Greg jumps out of the bushes, grabs Sawyer and slams him against a tree.
“Hey, Sawyer,” he says, through gritted teeth. “Been visiting your stash, have you? Not getting any fruit while you’re there?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” asks Sawyer.
“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about, you scum!” shouts Greg angrily. “I picked that fruit this morning to save the less-able people, like Claire, the bother of having to pick it themselves! Not for some slimy Southern git to put his paws on!”
“I honestly have no idea what you’re talk-” begins Sawyer.
“Stop lying to me!” shouts Greg. “You don’t know about the fruit? Just like you don’t know about Chris getting attacked for his water?”
“Chris?” asks Sawyer. “Who the hell’s Chris?”
“Pleased to see that I’m a recognised individual among my fellow survivors,” says Chris, walking out of the trees.
“What, so someone attacked you?” asks Sawyer, looking at Chris.
“Oh, don’t act like you know nothing about it!” shouts Greg, placing a hand on Sawyer’s throat.
“Greg!” shouts Chris, and Greg takes away his hand. “Sawyer…We just want to talk to you. We want to know if you had anything to do with the water or the fruit. Tell us the truth, and we’ll let you go without a scratch…”
“Try telling that to the croc-hunter here,” says Sawyer, looking at Greg, who is still pinning him to the tree. “Man, that is one big vein you got in your temple, there. I’ve seen smaller housing estates…”
“Sawyer!” says Chris. “Tell us, did you have anything to do with the fruit? Or the attack on me?”
“Now, why the hell would I steal your damn water?” asks Sawyer. “You seen the rain we get on this place? Won’t be long before we got too much water. And as for the fruit, what would be the point in stealing it if there’s trees full of fruit nearby?”
“Because you’re a lazy piece of filth that never did an honest day’s work!” shouts Greg. Suddenly, he pulls out a knife and holds it up to Sawyer’s throat.
“What the hell?” shouts Chris. “Where did you get that knife?!”
“Locke gave it to me,” says Greg, before turning to look at Sawyer. “Now…Are you going to start telling the truth?”
Sawyer looks down at the knife, fear glinting in his eyes. Chris stares from Sawyer to Greg in shock. What should he do? He had a feeling Sawyer wasn’t telling them the whole story, but if Chris didn’t do something soon, he’d end up in no fit state to tell anybody anything…

In flashback, Chris and his future wife, Melissa (Though at the time she is dating Matt, a man Chris has always secretly despised) are running up a hill in the Scottish highlands.
“Some trip this is turning out to be!” pants Chris, slightly out of breath.
“It is…” gasps Melissa. “This hill, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I’m positive,” Chris shouts back to her. They continue up to the top of the hill to find Matt with Melissa’s brother, Jordan.
“Why did you do it?” Jordan asks Matt, walking towards him.
“I didn’t!” shouts Matt, who, despite being bigger than Chris, is a fair bit smaller than Jordan.
“Stop lying to me!” shouts Jordan. As he advances on Matt, Chris throws himself in between them.
“Back up, Jordan,” says Chris. “Just back up, there.”
“He stole it, and I won’t ‘back up’ until he admits it!” shouts Jordan.
“Jordan, stop!” screams Melissa.
“Keep out of this, sis,” says Jordan. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“Listen, seriously, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Matt.
“Stop lying and tell me the truth!” shouts Jordan, trying to punch Matt.
“Whoa, easy now!” says Chris, trying to hold back Jordan. “Don’t do this, J!”
“What are you defending him for?” asks Jordan.
“I’m not defending him!” says Chris. “But you’re my best friend and I don’t want you doing anything stupid!”
“Anything stupid?!” asks a sceptical Jordan. “He stole it from me! It was in his bloody flat!”
“I know, but this isn’t the way to deal with it!” shouts Chris, but Jordan ignores him. He pushes Chris out of the way, and takes a swing at Matt. Matt falls backwards from the force of the punch, and, as if in slow motion, tumbles out of sight over the brow of the hill. Oblivious to Melissa’s screams of shock, Chris gets to his feet and runs forward. Looking down, he sees Matt’s body lying in a bloody, crumpled heap at the foot of the steep, rocky slope. Chris looks round at Jordan, who is in shock at what he had just done. Without a word, Jordan takes off down the hill. Melissa, sobbing wildly, runs off after him, screaming his name. Chris looks down again at the body of his fallen rival. What should he do? It was extremely unlikely that Matt had survived the fall, and he needed to catch up with Jordan before he had a chance to do something else stupid. He turns from the brow of the hill, and sprints after Jordan and Melissa.

On the island, Chris is thinking through his quickly formulated plan.
“Greg…” he says, walking forward slowly, carefully choosing his words. “Listen to me. How about we give him one more chance to tell us the truth, and if he continues to lie, then we use the knife.” Sawyer stares at him in shock and fear, but Chris tried hard not to let it distract him. He needed to time this just right, or someone could get seriously hurt.
“Why give him the chance?” asks Greg, still holding the knife to Sawyer’s throat.
“Because he’s a coward,” says Chris. “And I think he’ll tell the truth if it means he can save his own skin.” Greg looks up at Sawyer. “So, just lower the knife and give him one last chance.” Slowly, Greg pulls the knife away from Sawyer’s throat and starts lowering his hand; Chris’ cue to leap into action. Moving quickly, Chris grabs Greg’s fist that is clenched around the knife and pulls it to the side. Caught completely unawares, Greg is unable to dodge the swinging punch thrown by Chris’ free hand, and is knocked off his feet, Chris falling after him. The pair wrestle on the ground for a while, and Greg eventually punches Chris and pushes him off him, but not before Chris has forced the knife from his hand. Greg gets to his feet and waits for Chris to do the same, but Chris remains on the ground.
“I’m sorry,” says Chris. “But I couldn’t let you do anything stupid.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry, too,” says Greg. “For trusting you.” He storms off back to the beach. Chris looks up at Sawyer, who is staring at him in shock.
“I, uh…” begins Sawyer. “Listen…Thanks for…”
“Save it,” says Chris, finally standing up. “I didn’t do that for you. I did it for me. I wouldn’t have been able to handle the guilt for standing by and watching him kill you.” He picks up Locke’s knife and walks off, leaving Sawyer alone.

Chris reaches his shelter and lies down, thinking about what he had done. It had been the right thing to do. He knew Sawyer didn’t deserve it, but he also believed that he had nothing to do with the attack, or the fruit theft. How he knew, he couldn’t explain, but he could just tell. He felt less than pleased with the look of disappointment Greg had given him as he walked away, though. All differences aside, Greg had admitted that he had trusted Chris, and something told Chris it might take him a while to regain that trust.
“Chris!” shouts someone nearby. Chris looks up to see Sayid walking towards him.
“Sayid,” says Chris. “What can I do for you?”
“Well…” begins Sayid. “Jack returned to the beach earlier with the idea that we should all pack up and move to the caves that he has found out in the jungle.”
“And you think this is a bad idea because…” says Chris.
“Because we need to stay on the beach to keep the signal fires burning and look for rescue,” says Sayid. “I just wanted to know where you stand with the situation: The beach or the caves?”
Chris looks around the camp, and spots Claire sitting alone, writing in her diary. Someone will need to keep her company during this awkward time in her pregnancy.
“I’m not going anywhere, Sayid,” says Chris. “I’m staying right here.”

That night, it is a smaller group than usual that is gathered around the fire. Chris is sitting alone, staring at the flames. Suddenly, Claire sits down beside him.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey,” says Chris.
“Do you mind if I join you?” Claire asks. Chris smiles, and shakes his head. Claire sits down beside him. “So where did you get to today?”
“Oh, just having a little chat with Sawyer and Greg,” says Chris.
“Greg?” asks Claire. “Hmm…I saw him before. He didn’t look too happy.”
“No, he wouldn’t be,” says Chris. “He didn’t really like what I had to say…So, you’re staying at the beach too, huh?”
“Mm-hm,” says Claire. “I thought it would be easiest for when we…You know, get rescued.”
“Yeah,” says Chris. “Not as far to walk.” Claire smiles. The two fall silent, and take a good look around them, sure that this is where they want to be…

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Last edited by Sawbucks on Tue May 29, 2007 6:59 pm; edited 1 time in total

That was brilliant!
I liked the bit between Chris and Greg. The beginning with Hurley was legendary! "It was a joke" "Uhhh...good one!"
That was so funny!!! Laughing

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Lol, cheers! It pays off to write those damn transcripts because, not only do you get to know the story really well, but you also get a good feel of the characters too. For example, Hurley's "Uh..."s and "Dude"s, Sawyer's less-than-perfect use of words, etc. That way, I can write stuff and make it sound half-convincing that that character might actually say something like that.

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excelent, truely amazing, lovng it all and cant wait for your next instalment.

_________________
"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Cheers, blitz! I'll get it started tonight, and maybe even finished in time for Christmas!!!!

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

fingers crossed Wink

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

THE MOTH

Chris is sitting on the beach, watching Kate and Jack discuss something in what used to be the medical tent – Jack had moved off up to the caves, and it was common knowledge amongst the survivors that he had tried to convince Kate to go with him. Chris watches on as Sawyer walks into the tent and lays down his suitcases. Kate says something to Sawyer, and it’s not long before Jack leaves, being waved off by Sawyer. Kate looks at him, then walks away, rolling her eyes. Chris gets up and catches up with her as she heads back to her tent.
“Hey, Kate!” he shouts. She stops and looks around at him.
“Hey…Chris?” she says, hesitating.
“Yeah, that’s right,” says Chris. “Listen, Kate, when you guys hiked to high ground, you picked up a transmission, right?”
“How do you know about that?” asks Kate. The group had tried to keep the mysterious French transmission a secret, but it wasn’t long before Charlie had started telling people about it.
“I think a few people know about it,” says Chris. “It didn’t stay a secret for very long, especially after Hurley found out about it. Anyway, this Frenchwoman…Did she say whether she was alone? I mean, did she mention anyone else that was with her?”
“Uh…yeah,” says Kate. “She said, “the others are dead. It killed them all”. Why?”
“‘It’ killed them all?” asks Chris, confused. “She didn’t say what ‘it’ was?”
“No,” says Kate. “Or at least, not that we heard. What’s so strange about that? Maybe ‘it’ is that thing out in the jungle.”
“Yeah…” begins Chris. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
“Kate!” shouts Sayid, walking towards him. “It’s time. Come with me, I’ll explain the plan.”
“Plan?” asks Chris.
“To find the source of the distress call,” says Kate. Sayid glares at her. “It’s OK, Sayid. He knows. I think most people do.”
“Is there anything I can do to help you?” Chris asks Sayid.
“No, we’re set,” says Sayid, still rather coldly. “I already have Boone helping me as well, and three is enough. Thank you for the offer, though.” He walks off down the beach, followed by Kate. Chris watches them go, just as confused as ever. Kate had said the Frenchwoman said ‘it’ killed them all, which probably did mean the monster. But then how come the skeleton of the French person he, Scott and Arzt had found out in the jungle had a bullet hole in his clothes. Chris doubted very much that the monster, whatever it was, killed its victims by shooting them. But it didn’t make sense to say, “It killed them all” if they were shot. “They killed them all” would seem a better way of putting it. Or “He killed them all”. Or even (Though his insides squirmed slightly at the thought) “I killed them all.”

Chris is sitting back at his shelter with Scott and Steve, trying not to let the thought of a murderous Frenchwoman distract him. However, little did Chris know that he would soon be faced with an even bigger distraction.
“So, you didn’t fancy the caves either, huh, Chris?” asks Scott.
“Nah, I’d rather stay here,” says Chris. “It’s easier for when we get rescued, and there are other things worth staying for…” Scott and Steve look at him for some kind of explanation, but it doesn’t come. Chris is busy looking over at Claire, who is in her tent. He spots Greg walking over to her and talking to her, and feels the guilt for punching Greg rise up inside him. Looking around, he spots someone standing on a piece of the plane wreckage nearby. She is a teenage girl, roughly eighteen, and is staring right at Chris. Chris stares back in shock. It can’t be…
Chris gets to his feet and starts walking slowly towards the girl.
“Hey, Chris, where are you going?” shouts Steve.
“Hold on a minute,” says Chris, looking round at Steve. “There’s something I need to…” As he turns back round, he realises that the girl is nowhere to be seen.
“What’s wrong?” asks Steve.
“Did you guys just see an eighteen-year old girl standing on the wreckage over there?” asks Chris. Steve and Scott barely have time to exchange confused looks before Charlie comes sprinting down the beach.
“Hey!” he shouts. “Hey! We need help!” Several of the survivors, including Chris, Scott and Steve, run towards him.
“What’s wrong, man?” asks Michael.
“It’s Jack, he’s trapped,” says Charlie.
“What?” asks Boone.
“Our cave collapsed,” says Charlie. “We don’t even know if he’s alive. Come on, we’ve got to go.”
“Hey, Scott?” says Michael, looking at Steve.
“I’m Steve,” corrects Steve.
“I’m Scott,” says Scott, from behind Steve.
“We got an emergency,” says Michael. “Come on, grab a couple of guys and let’s go.” He takes off towards the jungle.
“We gotta go now,” says Charlie. Scott and Steve take off after Michael, followed closely by Chris.
“Come on, go,” says Michael from ahead of them. “Hey, come on, let’s go.”

The small group of survivors are rushing through the jungle towards the caves, praying inwardly that it’s not too late to save Jack. Chris, who had been looking at the back of Scott’s head for the past ten minutes, stumbles when his foot catches on a tree root. Slowing down to steady himself, he looks up again and almost cries out in shock. There, standing in front of him, staring him straight in the face, is the eighteen-year old girl Chris saw on the beach. He can see her face a lot clearer now, though it still wasn’t clear to him how on earth she could be here of all places. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words get caught in his throat. The girl silently turns away from him and starts walking through the jungle. Recovering from the shock of seeing her, Chris chases after the girl, but soon loses sight of her. As he looks around, he hears a faint rustling ahead of him. He creeps forward and bursts through a bush to see who it is. But it isn’t the girl. It’s…

“John?” asks Chris, walking over to Locke to see that he is skinning a dead boar. Chris looks away quickly from the less-than-pleasant sight of a half-skinned animal.
“Hello, Chris,” says Locke, ignoring Chris’ squeamish actions. “What are you doing out here in the jungle?”
“There was an accident at the caves,” says Chris. “Jack’s trapped in a cave-in. I came out here to help.”
“Uh-huh,” says Locke. “So, why aren’t you at the caves helping?”
“I was…” begins Chris, unsure how to put it. “I got side-tracked. I saw something that…That shouldn’t be here, and I followed it.”
“What sort of something?” asks Locke, though he seems to have a rough idea of what Chris is talking about already.
“A person,” says Chris. “A person who is…dead.” Locke looks at him and smiles. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t think you’re crazy, Chris,” says Locke. “I don’t know why you’re having these…‘visions’, all I know is that you’re not the first person on this island to have them.” Chris looks at him, puzzled. “That day we were out gathering water, right after you left me, I caught up with Jack. And he told me that he was chasing around visions of his dead father. And those visions led him to the caves, where he found fresh water; A new means to survive. Are these visions of yours leading you to something useful? I don’t doubt it. But the only person that can follow them, and find out just what they’re leading to, is you.”

In flashback, a fifteen-year old Chris is sitting opening his birthday presents. Sitting watching are his mother, his younger brother, Sean, and the eighteen-year old girl that Chris has been chasing round the island. Chris reaches his last present, which is labelled “To Chris, Happy Birthday, Love, Laura”. Chris, having read the label, looks up at the girl.
“Hmm…What did you get me, Laura?” he asks.
“You’ll see,” says ‘Laura’. Chris rips off the wrapping paper and looks down at a framed photograph of Laura. “Happy birthday, brother.” But, far from being pleased, Chris looks slightly disappointed. “What’s wrong?”
“Well…” begins Chris. “It’s just…What do I need a photo of you for? I can see you any old day of the week anyway.” Laura smiles.
“One day, you’ll be glad you have it,” she says wisely.

Four months later, Chris is standing with his family at the cemetery. He watches as the coffin in front of him is lowered down into a grave. His mother puts a comforting arm around him and his brother, despite the tears trickling down her own face.
After the service, Chris is standing alone, thinking to himself. He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket pocket and pulls out a photo frame. He stares tearfully down at the face of his sister, Laura, remembering her words on the day she had given this to him:
“One day, you’ll be glad you have it.”
‘She knew,’ Chris thinks to himself. He didn’t see any way that Laura could have known what would happen, but it just seemed too much of a coincidence that four months after giving him a photo of herself, his sister dies. She had sensed something might happen to her, and she was right. And she was right about something else, too; Chris certainly was glad he had the photo now.

On the island, Chris is sprinting through the jungle, Locke’s words still echoing in his ears. Just ahead of him, though always just out of reach, the form of his deceased sister moves through the jungle, leading him to goodness knows where. Suddenly, ‘Laura’ disappears, and Chris stops running. He looks around him, and is very tempted to shout out, but doubts that it will do any good. There is a rustling in the bushes ahead of him, growing louder and louder, drawing closer and closer. Chris dives behind a tree and watches, as Kate bursts through the jungle, making for the caves. Once he is sure Kate is gone, Chris continues in the general direction that his sister was leading him. He has barely walked for ten minutes when he comes across another familiar face…
“Well, well, well. If it ain’t Saint Nessie himself!” Chris looks over at Sawyer, who is sitting under a tree, a firework in his hand. “Where’s your Australian friend? Waiting to jump me the minute I go to the bathroom?”
“What are you doing out here, Sawyer?” asks Chris.
“Me?” asks Sawyer. “I’m sitting under a tree, waiting for five o’clock to come around, so I can turn on this here antenna and get y’all off this damn rock.”
“I thought Kate and Boone were helping Sayid, not you?” asks Chris.
“Yeah, well, they were,” says Sawyer. “Then Thelma found out about the doc’s demise and rushed off to cry over his broken body.”
“You don’t know that Jack’s dead,” says Chris.
“Yeah, well, a guy can dream, can’t he?” says Sawyer. Chris shakes his head. “So, what you doing this far from the beach, Pele? You looking for some other needy folks that you can help out and feel better about yourself?”
“No, I was just…” says Chris. “Just taking a walk.”
“Shame,” says Sawyer. “I could’ve used your help.”
“With what?” asks Chris.

Chris is sitting up in the tree, waiting to turn on the antenna.
“Two minutes to go,” says Sawyer, who is standing on the ground, waiting to fire off the rocket. “And remember, wait until all three…”
“Three rockets have been fired before I turn on the damn antenna, I know!” interrupts Chris. As he adjusts his position on the branch slightly, he sees it: Laura, his sister, standing thirty feet from the foot of the tree. He begins to scramble down the tree, never taking his eyes off his sister.
“Hey!” shouts Sawyer, looking up from his watch to see Chris dropping to the ground. “Hey! What the hell are you doin’? You need to turn…” Chris takes off into the jungle after his sister, who is once again on the move. “Damn it!” Sawyer grabs the bottle rocket and starts climbing up the tree, towards the antenna, as fast as he can.

Chris is sprinting through the trees in hot pursuit of his sister, who is moving so fast that she appears to be gliding over the jungle floor. Suddenly, she stops and turns to face Chris. Chris, having stopped so abruptly, loses balance and falls flat on his face. He looks up at his sister, just inches away, who looks down at him and smiles, before fading into nothingness.
“Wait…” Chris says faintly, still lying on the ground. His head drops in disappointment. Now what? Locke said the visions would lead him to something, but now they were gone. It is only now, when there is no eerie appearance of his dead sister to distract him that he notices that his right hand is lying on top of something metal. He moves his hand away to reveal…A gun. Half-buried in the dirt, though apparently in one piece. He digs the handgun out and looks at it; It still seems to be in working order. On closer inspection, Chris notices two words engraved on the side of the gun: “Malcolm Young”. Chris has no idea who Malcolm Young is, but right now he couldn’t really care. Was this the thing the visions of Laura had been leading him to? His ‘means to survive’? Suddenly, a faint, inaudible whispering starts in the jungle around him. Chris leaps to his feet and looks around, frantically, but there is no one in sight. The whispers continue, and Chris finally makes out some of what they are saying, which, on top of everything else, scares him even more.
“One day, you’ll be glad you have it...”

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Last edited by Sawbucks on Tue May 29, 2007 7:02 pm; edited 1 time in total

Sorry that it took a little longer than expected, and also sorry if it seems a little dry. Just know that this, along with "House of the Rising Sun", was an episode that, for long enough, I simply could not think of a storyline for!

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

that was great, sawyer was great and you found the other gun, thats is an awesome part and is an excelent storyline, i hope it fits in with the house of rising sun.

_________________
"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Thanks, blitz! The gun will come in very useful...

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

it may become a useful tool for chris in my fanfics too Wink

_________________
"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Well, I look forward to it!

Oh, and just so you know, Greg is gonna be the main player (Apart from Chris) in the next two episodes! They're going exploring!

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

exploring ay, i look forward to them.

_________________
"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

It will be crazy! I don't want to give anything away, but they're gonna come across something they haven't seen before, something they have seen, and something we've seen in the show, but not yet in my fanfics...

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

its like something old something new something borrowed and something blue

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Well, old and new at least! And there will be something borrowed too! And I could always make it so that Chris is wearing a blue shirt too, lol!

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

lol that will do it

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

OK, here is the next instalment. I apologise in advance for the extensive amount of "monologuing" that takes place!!!!

CONFIDENCE MAN

Chris is walking through the jungle, two full bottles of water in his hands. Unable to sleep, he had decided to take an early-morning trip to the caves to replenish his water supply. He had not told anyone about his ‘adventure’ into the jungle the previous night, nor did he intend to; At least not until he had worked out who Malcolm Young was, anyway. The name didn’t ring any bells with Chris, and, rather than sitting around all day obsessing over some unknown stranger, he had decided the best thing to do was to keep busy: If he was to suddenly have a stroke of inspiration, it would be when his mind was nice and active, something very hard to achieve sitting in a tent for hours on end. He had stored the gun in the bottom of his suitcase and pushed it to the back of his mind for the time being.
“Hey, mate,” says a voice behind Chris, as he snaps back to reality. He looks round to see Charlie catching up with him.
“Hey, Charlie,” Chris says, forcing a smile. Though it had been Charlie who had ultimately saved Jack from the cave-in, not to mention the fact that he had been keeping Claire company, Chris couldn’t help but feel that Charlie could, at times, be a bit irritating.
“You heading back to the beach?” asks Charlie.
“Yeah, just been topping up the water supply,” says Chris, showing Charlie the bottles.
“Nice one,” says Charlie. “Listen, Chris, mate.” Chris smiled; as annoying as he invariably was, Charlie had a knack for remembering names. “You couldn’t do us a favour, could you?”
“Well…” hesitates Chris. “That really depends what you’re after, Charlie.”
“I need you to keep that Greg guy occupied today,” says Charlie.
“Er…What?” asks a confused Chris. He stops as they reach the beach and looks at Charlie.
“Yeah, keep him distracted,” says Charlie.
“Why do you need me to distract Greg?” asks Chris.
“Because I’m going to try and convince Claire to move to the caves,” explains Charlie. “And it will be a lot easier without him hanging around.”
Chris still looks confused.
“Listen, I’ve got Claire’s best interests at heart,” Charlie continues. “And I’m sure you have too. We both know that she’ll be a lot safer out of the sun, and this heat. Plus, Jack’s at the caves…It would make sense if she moved there. But Greg seems to think she’s better off staying at the beach, so I need to try and convince her when he’s out of the way. Which is where you come in.” He gives Chris a hopeful smile. Chris looks at him, thinking to himself. He looks over at Claire, who is sitting in the sand nearby, writing in her diary. Charlie did have a point…
“All right,” says Chris after a long pause. “But if you don’t get her to move today, I’m not keeping Greg busy any longer. One day. That’s all I’m gonna give you.”
“Thanks a bunch, mate,” says Charlie, smiling. He takes the bottles of water from Chris.
“Hey, what the…?” starts Chris.
“They’re for Claire,” says Chris, as he walks towards Claire.
“You’ve got some nerve…” Chris mutters under his breath.
“Morning delivery,” Chris hears Charlie say.
“Aw, you’re sweet,” says Claire, looking up from her diary. “Thanks.”
“Well, I figured in your condition, with the extra baggage, you know,” says Charlie, sitting down next to Claire.
“Well, I can still walk,” says Claire.
“Barely,” says Charlie. “Anyway, I worry about you out here. You know, it’s very sunny.”
Chris shakes his head and walk away. It was a good thing Charlie was trying to help Claire, or he would have been severely tempted to kick something…

Greg is sitting by his tent, talking to Rachel.
“Well, I didn’t become known as Australia’s finest because I was kind to the…” Greg breaks off when he sees Chris walking towards him. “Oh, great…What do you want, Wallace?”
“Good to see you too, Greg,” smiles Chris. “Hey, Rachel.”
“Hey, Chris,” says Rachel, smiling. Chris gives her an awkward look, and she seems to understand him without his saying anything. “I’ll leave you two to it…” She walks away down the beach. Chris looks down at Greg.
“You doing anything today?” he asks.
“Who’s asking?” Greg asks coldly. Chris had been prepared for this, and tried not to let it put him off.
“That would be me,” says Chris. “I was wondering if you wanted to go take a walk in the jungle. I need to show you something.”
“And what makes you think I give a damn about anything you want to show me?” says Greg, looking far from enthusiastic at Chris’ idea.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be interested when we get there,” says Chris.
“Get where?” asks Greg.
“I told you, the jungle,” answers Chris. “You in?”
Greg stands up and looks him in the eye, clearly torn between smiling at Chris and punching him.
“OK, I’m in,” he says at last, far too intrigued by Chris’ offer to turn it down.
“Excellent,” smiles Chris. “Get your things ready. We’re leaving in half an hour.”

Chris is kneeling next to his tent, packing his backpack with some fruit and some water. (Luckily, his pack had also been full of bottles when Charlie had approached him this morning) He looks up as two people storm past him, talking loudly.
“That’s not gonna help us get the medicine,” says Kate.
“Maybe not, but it’ll feel good,” says Jack, who is clearly angry at something.
“So, what’s stopping you?” asks Kate.
“We’re not savages, Kate,” says Jack. “Not yet”
“Let me talk to Sawyer,” says Kate.
“What makes you think he’s gonna listen to you?” demands Jack, struggling to keep his voice calm.
Chris shakes his head again, grateful that he didn’t have to deal with all the odd goings-on around here.
“Where are you going?” asks a nearby voice. Chris looks up to see Walt watching him, his pet dog, Vincent, straining against the lead in his hand.
“Oh, hey, Walt,” replies Chris. “I’m just gonna take a walk. Stretch my legs. Where’s your dad?”
As if he could hear the conversation taking place, Michael walks up the beach towards them.
“Walt!” he says, jogging the last few steps. “You ready to go back to the caves?”
“Hey, Michael,” says Chris, smiling.
“Hey, man,” Michael says back. “What you up to?”
“Just getting ready to go for a walk,” replies Chris.
“Well, don’t let us keep you, man,” says Michael. “We gotta head back to the caves anyway, and prepare some lunch.” He shows Chris the fish in his hands. “Gutting fish; what could be better?”
Chris chuckles, as Michael and Walt walk away.
“You ready to go, then?” asks an impatient voice behind him. Chris, not even looking round to see whom it is, straightens up and slings his pack over his shoulder.
“Yeah, Greg,” he says. “Let’s go.”
He starts walking, closely followed by Greg, and the pair head off into the jungle.

“How much further is this thing you want to show me anyway?” asks an impatient Greg. He and Chris had been walking through the jungle for over two hours, though they had stopped twice for a water break.
“Well, if you had actually mastered the art of drinking and walking at the same time, we’d almost be there by now,” smiles Chris.
“That’s easy for you to say,” says Greg, smirking.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” asks Chris.
“You’re Scottish,” explains Greg. “You people can drink and do pretty much anything at the same time.”
“Well, that about sums up my heritage, doesn’t it?” laughs Chris. Greg laughs as well.
“I was kidding,” he says.
“No, you weren’t,” smiles Chris.
“Anyway…” begins Greg, trying to keep a straight face. “You want to tell me where we’re going yet?”
Chris’ smile falters, and he wonders how best to word his next sentence.
“No, not yet,” he says. “It’s probably better if you don’t know what to expect. You know, have an open mind about it.” He looks at Greg, who looks even more intrigued than before. “Are you OK with that? ‘Cause if you really want to know now, I guess I could tell you.”
“No, I’m fine,” smiles Greg, as they approach a downward slope ahead of them. “But thanks for the offer. See that’s what I like about you, Chris. You always try and please everyone. It’s like you’re terrified that someone might not like you. And I’m not having a go at you. I actually quite respect you for it, among other things. You have no idea how hard it was for me to attack you…”
Chris stops in his tracks, sure that he must have misheard Greg. He looks up at his friend’s face.
“What did you just say?” he asks, each syllable ringing with disbelief. The look of horror on Greg’s face said more than words could.
“I didn’t mean…” Greg stammers. “You don’t understand…”
“YOU?!” shouts Chris. “You attacked me that day the water was stolen? You mean to say that the person who jumped me from behind, who knocked me out, who grabbed the bottles of water and emptied them out…That was YOU?”
Greg turns away from him, unable to look him in the eye.
“I…I…” he begins.
“‘I’ what, Greg?” asks a livid Chris.
“I’m sorry,” Greg says finally. “I had to.”
Chris, the angriest he has felt since the crash, grabs Greg by the throat and slams him against a tree. Quick as a flash, before Greg can react, Chris pulls out Locke’s knife, which he had been carrying around with him since he and Greg questioned Sawyer, and holds it up to Greg’s throat, in half a mind to kill him then and there…

In flashback, Chris returns to his flat after a hard day’s training. As he walks through to the kitchen and opens the fridge, he hears a voice from the corner of the room. A voice he has not heard in four years.
“Hey, Chris. How’s it going?”
Chris drops the can of juice in his hand. It smacks off the floor and explodes, but Chris takes no notice. Slowly, he turns to look in the direction of the voice. There, leaning against his kitchen wall, is Matt.
“What the…?” gasps Chris in shock. “Matt? It can’t be?”
“Why can’t it be, Chris?” asks Matt. He walks into the centre of the room to reveal a heavily scarred face.
“Is that from the accident?” asks Chris, looking at the scars.
“‘The accident’?” asks Matt. “That was no accident! My fiancée’s good-for-nothing brother pushed me off that cliff, and you watched it!”
“Yeah, I did,” Chris says quietly. “I watched you fall to your death. But here you are.”
“Yeah, here I am!” shouts Matt. “You idiot, I didn’t fall to my death! Though I probably would have died, if someone hadn’t found me.”
“Who found you?” asks Chris.
“Some American couple,” says Matt simply. “They were on vacation, doing some hill-walking. They were older, but the guy, he was a doctor. He looked after me, kept me alive long enough for help to arrive. Of course, I spent a long while in hospital, but after I was discharged, I knew what I had to do. I tracked down Jordan and threatened to kill him. He fled before I got the chance to make good on my promise, though. I haven’t heard anything of him since. So I decided to take my anger out on someone else. Someone who had watched me fall, and left me to die. I had planned to kill you long before now. But then I learned something interesting. Very interesting. You were engaged. And not just to any old girl, but the very same person I was engaged to, all those years ago. It seemed that dear Melissa didn’t love me after all. She would much rather be with you. And, so, I thought I would get two birds with one stone. Instead of killing you, I decided I would make you suffer instead. Suffer everyday with your grief. Yes, Chris, it was me who killed Melissa. And on your wedding day, too. How tragic…”
Chris, who has been steadily filling with rage for the past five minutes, lunges at Matt. Matt, however, seems to be prepared for this, and pulls out a handgun, aiming it at Chris’ chest.
“Tell me, Chris,” says Matt, smiling. “How does it feel to wake up every day with the grief of losing a loved one?”
Chris stays silent.
“Hmm, I didn’t think it would be too enjoyable,” says Matt. “Well, unless you want that grief to multiply, you will leave. Leave Scotland and never return. Do not show your face in this country ever again, or your mother and your father and your brother will all be killed. Understand?”
“Why do you want me to leave so badly?” asks Chris.
“Because I want you to continue living with your grief,” explains Matt. “But I want to know that you’re out of my way. That’s why you’re going to go to Australia.”
He throws a plane ticket onto the kitchen table.
“The plane leaves tomorrow. Goodbye, Chris.” He walks out of the flat, slamming the door behind him.

Back on the island, Chris is still trying to resist the temptation of slitting Greg’s throat.
“What do you mean, you ‘had to’?” asks Chris.
“It was to protect Claire,” says Greg. “To keep her safe.”
“Protect her by letting her die of dehydration?” asks the now sceptical Chris.
“You don’t understand,” says Greg. “Please, just let me explain…”
Chris ponders for a moment, then takes the knife away from Greg’s throat for the time being. If he was going to do anything to him for attacking him, he might as well listen to whatever insane justification Greg tried to give.
“All right, Greg” begins Chris, trying to regain some level of calmness in his voice. “I’m dying to know what the hell you think you were playing at. By all means, explain away.”
Greg takes a deep breath, and looks at Chris, choosing his words carefully.
“All right,” says Greg, still breathing heavily from the intensity of the past minute or so. “OK. Well, as you must have noticed, during our first few days here, Claire started spending a lot of time with that Charlie. Which was fair enough, until I noticed him sneaking off during the burning of the fuselage. I followed him and spotted him…snorting heroin.”
“What?” asks Chris in shock.
“I’m being serious,” says Greg. “I haven’t told anyone, though I have a feeling Locke might know about it anyway. I was at the caves this morning, taking some fish up for the people there. I must have left just before you got there. I saw Charlie talking to Locke about helping him destroy his stash. Whether he really has got rid of it, I don’t know. Anyway, once I found out Charlie was a junkie, I knew that Claire might well be in danger if she continued to spend time with him. I needed to try and gain her trust and get her away from Charlie. I wasn’t sure how I would do it, but it wasn’t long before an opportunity arose; On our sixth day here, I heard Charlie, Hurley and Jack discussing the fact that the group’s water supply was running low. I saw Boone arguing with Jack about how he deserved to take responsibility over decisions that were made just as much as anyone else did. And, finally, Jack took off into the jungle without a word to anybody. My time had come. After Jack ran off, I talked to Boone and convinced him that the water supply needed to be moved to a safer place, in case someone tried to steal it. He did this, thinking it was his own idea, but he foolishly told me where he had hidden it. Twice he approached me during the course of the day, suggesting that we should hand some of the water out, but both times I persuaded him to leave it until we absolutely had to do so. Then something happened I hadn’t counted on: You and Locke headed off into the jungle to try and find water. I knew that if you succeeded, my whole plan would be in ruins. I warned Boone to wait until I returned before he did anything else with the water, and took off after you. I couldn’t believe my luck when it was only you, on your own, that I found returning to camp with water; I feared that, had Locke been with you, my plan would fail. But I could handle you. You are the smaller of the two, you carry a lot less knives and I had the element of surprise. As you know, I attacked you, knocked you out and poured away the water you had collected. I had intended on returning to camp and framing Boone, making it look like he had stolen the water and I had retrieved it. I would have gained the camp’s respect, and saved Claire’s life with the water, winning her trust, allowing me to pull her from Charlie’s grasp. Unfortunately, Boone panicked and tried to sneak some water to Claire before I got back. Of course, he was caught by Charlie and took the blame for it anyway. My plan hadn’t quite worked out the way I had hoped, but at least no one knows I was linked to the water’s disappearance. I decided to bide my time and wait for the next chance to gain Claire’s trust.”
There was a long silence, and Chris wondered if that was the end of Greg’s story. It was as though someone had flicked a light on in his head. As much as he didn’t want to believe a word of it, it all made sense. Well, almost all of it…
“When you attacked me,” says Chris, his voice croaking having not had to say anything for a while. “Why didn’t you just take the water I had back to the camp and give that to Claire instead of giving out the water Boone took?”
“Because,” begins Greg. “If I had done that, you would have known where I had got it from in about three seconds. But if I made it look like I had found Boone with the whole supply, it’s very unlikely you would have ever suspected a thing.”
“But…” says Chris, his head spinning slightly from the overload of information. “But how did you even think of a plan like that?”
“I don’t know if I ever told you this,” says Greg. “But back in Australia, I was a cop. I’ve dealt with more than my fair share of con artists and, as much as I despise the lot of them, you can learn a lot by looking at how they work. I usually wouldn’t use what I learn from them, but sometimes you have to.”
“But how did you even know it would work?” asks Chris. “How did you know Boone would move the water, or tell you where he moved it to?”
“I just told you the answer,” smiles Greg, but Chris looks confused. “I’m a cop. One of the most important things to know when you’re a cop is to understand how people’s minds work in a whole variety of situations. I have a good few years experience under my belt, I know what I’m doing. I know what people are thinking, how they will react…”
Before he can even finish his sentence, Chris lashes out and punches him in the face.
“Did you know I was going to do that?!” he asks, the anger rising again inside him.
“Actually, I knew you would hit me before long,” claims Greg. “But I think I probably deserve it, so I didn’t bother trying to stop you.”
Chris swings at him again, but this time Greg grabs his fist and knocks him off his feet with a blow to the chest.
“I wasn’t going to let you do it twice, though,” smiles Greg.
Chris, his eyes burning with rage, half jumps to his feet and runs full-tilt at Greg. Fear flashes quickly across Greg’s face as Chris tackles him with all his might, and the two fall backwards down the slope behind Greg. Still grappling with each other, they tumble downwards, hitting rocks and tree roots as they go, until they reach the bottom and slam into something solid. Something metal. Slightly dazed, Chris lets go of Greg and scrambles to his feet. It takes several seconds for him to focus his eyes on what they had hit, and, after seeing it, Chris almost wishes his vision was still blurry. It would have been shocking enough to come across it on the beach, but here, in the jungle, it just made no sense whatsoever. Greg also gets to his feet, gasping in shock. Slowly, uncertainty and disbelief etched across their faces, they inch towards the thing in front of them…
It’s a boat.

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

Last edited by Sawbucks on Tue May 29, 2007 7:03 pm; edited 1 time in total

Sawbucks, I just read your first chapter, and I really like your idea how you explain everything in detail and fit in, like the story is still folowing its normal storyline whilst you tell yours. Goodjob buddy!

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"I'll see you in another life brutha..." - Desmond

that was amazingly amazing. you made Greg seem like the villan but then gave a valid reason for his actions and even made him seem smarter than the entire group. i liked how it played out and you made Greg realise the error of his ways by having Chris be the one that finds out. it fit perfectly and was an incredible episode.

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Thanks, you guys!!! I hope you didn't get too annoyed that I made Greg so 'evil'!!! Though, as you say, he did have a valid reason. I don't know how long it will take for Chris to realise this though!!!!

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

well dont worry they are excelent and you should keep writing them as good as that regardless of ho evil you make someone.

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Well said Blitz!

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Hehe, thanks! I'll keep that in mind! *Rubs hands eagerly at thought of Sayid going on Other killing spree*

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

OK. I was talking to chirpy the other day and he told me that there was something he didn't like about my fanfics. I asked him to post it here so I could see where everyone else stood with the situation, but, obviously, he hasn't, so I'll just do it.

He said that he got kinda annoyed with the big speeches from the actual episodes that I have included in my own episodes (e.g. The conversation where Sayid and Sawyer are fighting in "Pilot, Part 2" or where everyone is discussing hunting the boar in "Walkabout.") I would appreciate it if anyone who acually reads the fanfics could tell me whether this bothers them or not, and, if more of you are annoyed by it then aren't, I may have to rethink how I write out the episodes.

Gracias, Merci & Cheers

Sawbucks

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

I dont see anything wrong with your fanfics. the long speach from the actual episodes just means that you are putting Chris in not changing the entire story. i like them and i bet lots of other people do too.

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Thanks, blitz! That makes me feel better. I was getting paranoid that you all hated the long speaches and were just saying the fanfics were good so you wouldn't hurt my feelings, lol. But I like them too, and, at the end of the day, my vote is worth about three normal votes! Wink

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

yes you call the shots.

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

There seems to be some good writing talent here! Woo. I'm amazed!

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OMG, you said "woo!" No one has ever said "woo!" about my writing before. Faith restored! Wink

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

Woo woo! God now I sound like a fire engine! Yes all your writings are good. Woo Shocked

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Lol...You haven't read them, have you? Wink

Thanks anyway!!!

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

!!!! How very dare you! Of cause I've read them. Actuallay I read them a while back and I did'nt know when to butt in and congratulate you. *CLAP CLAP*

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Lol, butting in and congratulating is pretty much all that goes on on these forums, so anytime is a good time! Wink

PS Sorry for doubting you!

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

Thats alright. You are forgiven

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Glad that's settled now!

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Great episode Sawbucks, loved it cant wait for more.

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

Lol!!!

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ow crap, i am so sorry Sawbucks, god i am so stupid, i have stupidly edited your fanfic Sad

I am so sorry, i hope you have a spare. I am really sorry and please forgive me, i should have that button removed or something. Sad

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

I am so sorry sawbucks, really and truely sorry. I actually thought i was cured but this just proves that i was just foolish to believe such a thing.

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Hey, it was a mistake. We all make them, so none of this rubbish about being foolish and whatnot! Besides, I could (Hopefully) have it saved on my computer! I usually save them, but I can't remember if I saved this one: I was a bit excited to be writing again last night that I may have forgotten. But we'll see...

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

Unfortunatly for me i was born to make a hell of alot of them. You really are suportive even though you have no idea why i am so brain dead. I hope you do have it saved and of not i am sorry for the incconvenience i have caused you.

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Hey, no worries! At the end of the day, it's just a fanfic, right? It's not anything important! And who's even gonna know or care that anything happened anyway? Only you and Ben ever really read my fanfics anyway, and tree occassionally as well. Honestly, blitz, I'm not annoyed in the slightest. The big "NOO!!!" thing was just 'cos I was a little shocked at the start, but it doesn't matter anymore.

Anyway, I didn't save it in the normal place, but I'll have a look around and see if I can find it kicking about! Very Happy

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

Your Calmness seems to be your true feelings but they are important. Just think of all that time i have made you waste when you could have written one of your transcripts and of course no forgetting that you may have to rewrite it ll over agin which will push your other fanfics further and further back which wont please Tree and Ben although they wont show it. Your fanfics are important and i do know how it feels to write a whole fanfics and then loose it all.

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

I'm a calm person... Wink

And I don't see it as time wasted! Even if I do need to write it again. I know what to write, and I have a chance to make improvements to it!!!!! Like when the raft burned down! (Hey, look at that! I even managed to bring the conversation back onto Lost!)

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

lol

, still you coul have done with far better things than that happening today.

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Meh, I could have done with far better things happening on most days, but I don't complain!!! I just make the most of whatever happens, be it a hindrance or a help to me and my goals, lol!!!!

PS I wasn't calling you a hindrance, by the way!!!!

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

didnt even entre my head.

Anyway i have decided to change some of my episodes, alot of them actually because having Greg with his guns is a bit cheesey for what lost is trying to achieve so he is going to have his guns but loose all of the bullets and then find them in dribs and drabs.

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Fair enough!!!! You know I'll read 'em whatever changes you make! Very Happy

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

Yes but the more i think about it the more unrealistic my fanfics have become and i know its lost but some bits need huge changes especially my season 2 episodes.

_________________
"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

I like them the way they are! And I know other people do too!!! But if you want to change them, it's up to you!!

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

Only the stuff that seems a bit unrealistic, ou will still see alot of action from Greg. Live together, Die alone is one that i want to change dramatically but i asure you that it will be better with Rachel and Chris getting more say in it.

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Yay! I'm glad to hear it!!! Very Happy

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

Plus now i actually know that the stun thin is a stun gun and not a dart that injects people with a fluid then i will have to change it. but dont worry the cliff hanger will still stnd and may even be more shocking Laughing

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Lol, sounds like we'll all be stunned when the finale come around, then!!!!!

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

Indeed but its the episodes inbetween that will build it all up.

_________________
"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Naturally...

Anyway, I have excellent news, blitz!!! I managed to find episode 9 on my computer!!!!! Very Happy

I must have accidentally saved it in a random folder where I keep all my college work!!!!! So, although I'm sure my lecturer will be devastated he won't get to read my fanfic when I go to college tomorrow, I can post it here without having to write it out again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

YAAAAAAAAYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am glad that you found it saved somewhere, but you said you were still going to change it, i dont mind if you dont.

_________________
"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Well, I was only gonna make changes if I had to write it again. I don't even know what those changes would have been, and I'm happy enough with it the way it is anyway. So, for the second time in 24 hours, here is episode 9 of my fanfics!!!

SOLITARY

Chris and Greg stand staring at the small ship before them. There is a minute’s silence, before Greg clears his throat.
“What…?” he begins, unsure how to word the utter shock he is feeling. “What the hell is a ship doing this far inland?”
“What, you really expect me to know the answer to that?” asks Chris, in, if possible, even more shock than Greg is.
“Wait…” begins Greg. “So this isn’t what you brought me out here to see?”
“No…” says Chris. “Definitely not. I’ve never seen this ship before in my life…”
Chris takes a few shaky steps towards the ship for a closer look.
The ship is fairly large, and quite rusted. It looks as though it has been lying here for at least a decade, as there is mud spattered all over it, the paintwork is peeling and the ship’s name, written on the side, is very faint, and only partly readable: ‘Le bijou du Ta’. There is severe damage to the ship’s hull, as though it has smashed into something with great force.
“‘Le bijou du Ta’?” reads Greg, following Chris towards the ship. “What language is that? Spanish?”
“I don’t know,” says Chris. “It could be Spanish…Or maybe French? I was never any good at foreign languages. But that last word…“Ta”…It looks as though there was more to it at one point, but the paint has peeled away…”
Slowly, Chris walks right up to the ship and climbs aboard it.
“What are you doing?” asks Greg.
“What does it look like?” says Chris, the initial shock of finding the ship starting to wear off, to be replaced by curiosity. “I’m having a look around. You coming?”
Greg hesitates for a few seconds, then climbs up onto the deck of the ship.

Chris leads the way down into the hold of the ship, Greg close behind him. As Chris descends the stairs, he once again pulls out Locke’s knife, ready to strike, should the need arise. Quietly as he can, Chris takes the last two stairs very slowly, and looks around…
“What’s down there?” asks Greg, who is still at the top of the stairs.
“Nothing,” says Chris. “Everything’s…gone.” This was no exaggeration: There is no food, no clothes, and no supplies at all. There are no documents or maps of any sort, and it looks as though even the ship’s built-in electronic equipment has been removed, including the radio and radar. There are no light bulbs in the sockets, no towels in the washroom, not even so much as an empty crisp packet lying on the floor. Chris moves away from the bottom of the stairs, and Greg marches down them at last. Looking around, he walks to the nearest door and opens it.
“Hmm…” he says from inside the room. “This must have been a sleeping area for some of the crew…” He walks out the cabin again and checks the next door along, and the one after that.
“There are six bunks,” says Greg, emerging from the last ‘bedroom’. “Though they’re completely stripped of sheets and everything. Clearly, whoever was on this ship didn’t want to leave anything behind. And I mean ‘anything’. The question is who was on this ship? And where are they now? If they’re even still alive…”
Chris says nothing. He had a funny feeling that at least one of the six crewmembers had not survived to this day…
“So, if this isn’t what you wanted to show me,” says Greg. “Then what is?”
Chris stares at him for several seconds.
“You sure you want me to tell you?” he says at last.
“After finding this ship, I don’t think anything else can surprise me,” answers Greg.
“All right…” Chris begins, but he is cut short by an unnerving noise from the jungle outside: The monstrous whirring roar that was heard on their first night on the island. Chris and Greg give each other frightened glances, as the thunderous footsteps of the ‘monster’ grow ever nearer to the ship.
“It’s that thing!” gasps Greg. “It’s back! What do we do?”
“Shh!” Chris silences him. “Listen…”
The ‘footsteps’ suddenly stop, to be replaced by an eerie silence. All of a sudden, the bow of the ship is ripped upwards, detaching itself from the rest of the ship. Chris and Greg fall backwards, both too terrified to move a muscle. But the monster, whatever it is, is nowhere to be seen. There is a very tense silence, and Chris, regaining the feeling in his legs, gets to his feet. Slowly, Greg does the same, sharing another worried look with Chris. From behind them, a creaking noise issues from the stern of the ship…
“Run!” Chris roars, and he and Greg leap out of the ship just in time; From behind them comes the sound of the ship being hauled into the air, but neither Chris nor Greg look back. It has been a long time since Chris has run this hard or this fast, but he doesn’t stop until he has put a good mile or two between him and the remains of the ship. Eventually, he stops and collapses to the ground, clutching the stitch in his side. Looking round, he sees Greg slowing down to an unstable walk, before also dropping to the ground.
“You…OK?” Chris asks, gasping for air.
“Yeah…” Greg says quietly. “You?”
“Yeah…Never better…”
After a minute or so of heavy breathing, Chris pushes himself to his feet and looks around. He is both surprised and relieved to see that he has been in this part of the jungle before.
“Oh, good,” he says, smiling. “We don’t need to go any further.”
“What…are you…talking about?” says Greg, also standing up. “What do you mean…?” He breaks off as he spots something lying on the jungle floor, twenty feet away from them. “What on earth is that?”
“What I wanted to show you,” says Chris, calmly. “We’re here at last.”
He leads the way over to the thing, and watches Greg’s expression slowly change from curiosity to disgust. Chris takes a deep breath, then looks down, once again, at the skeleton of the French man…

In flashback, Chris is standing by a grave. He looks down at the coffin in the grave, then up at the headstone:
“Melissa Jayne Parker
Beloved wife, daughter and sister
Missed every day”
Chris looks around at the crowd dispersing from the graveside; There had been a lot of people at the funeral, but he knew none of them would miss Melissa as much as he would.
“Uh…Chris?” says a voice behind him. Chris looks round at his brother, Sean. “Are you…Are you ready to go?”
“Almost,” says Chris, a tear trickling down his cheek.
“Listen…” Sean begins awkwardly. “I just want you to know that…I’m here for you, man.”
“Thanks,” Chris says. He pauses, before continuing. “I appreciate that. I really do.”
Sean pats Chris on the shoulder.
“I’m gonna find out who did this,” says Chris quietly.
“What?” asks Sean.
“I’m gonna find the person responsible for this,” says Chris. “And I’m gonna get my revenge. I’m gonna kill them.”
“Chris…” Sean says. “Look, it’s very unlikely that you’re ever gonna find out who did this…”
“I will,” Chris replies adamantly. “I will. I’ll find them.”
“Chris, you need to let it go,” Sean says firmly. “You can’t track them down.”
“Don’t tell me what I can’t do!” Chris says loudly. Sean looks taken aback, as Chris looks down at the grave of his wife, then turns and walks away.

“So you found this on the day of the crash?”
Greg is leaning over the skeleton, as Chris stands nearby, looking anywhere but at the skeleton.
“No,” says Chris. “It was the day after the crash. When we came out here for wood.”
“We?” says Greg.
“Me, Scott and Arzt,” explains Chris.
“And you didn’t tell anyone about it?” asks Greg.
“You didn’t tell anyone about Charlie being a junkie,” says Chris, the anger he felt at Greg earlier only now starting to return.
“That was different,” says Greg. “My secret involved the guilt of a living person. This guy’s hardly going to hunt you down if you tell anyone about him.”
“He might not,” says Chris. “But whoever killed him might.”
“What?” asks a confused Greg.
“Look closer at his clothes,” says Chris, looking down at the skeleton at last. “There’s blood splattered all over them, not to mention the bullet hole.”
“Hmm…” mutters Greg, leaning in for a closer look at the skeleton. “I didn’t know football players were trained in giving autopsies.”
“We aren’t,” says Chris. “It was Arzt that did that.”
“Ah, then that explains it,” says Greg wisely.
“Explains what?” says Chris, confused.
“Well, put it this way,” begins Greg. “I always thought Arzt was a bit of an idiot, and this proves it.”
“What are you talking about?” asks Chris.
“Well, the way I see it,” says Greg. “You’d have to be an idiot to not notice this…”
He reaches into the inside of the skeleton’s jacket, and pulls something out from one of the pockets: A handgun.

“How could Arzt miss a bloody gun?!” asks an annoyed Chris. “I mean, come on! God, one of these days, I’m gonna kill him…”
“You can borrow my gun if you like,” suggests Greg, a smug look on his face. Chris looks down at the gun in Greg’s hand.
“Give it to me,” he says.
“I was only joking…” starts Greg.
“No more games, Greg!” shouts Chris. “Give me that gun!”
“No, I don’t think I will,” says Greg calmly. “I don’t see any reason why you should have it instead of me. I mean, I found it, didn’t I? And I’m a cop, you’re a footballer; I don’t think it takes a genius to work out who will be more practised at handling a gun. Besides, you’ve got your little knife to play with, you don’t need a gun. And this will come in handy for me, too. Well, at least until I can find my own guns, anyway. I still haven’t recovered them since the crash.”
“While those are all excellent points,” says Chris sarcastically. “You’re forgetting one thing: You can’t be trusted. You attacked me when I was trying to help a pregnant girl. You almost killed a man for a crime he didn’t commit. And it’s only a matter of time before you do end up killing someone…”
“What makes you say that?” asks Greg.
“I lived in Australia for six months, Greg,” says Chris. “I heard about you, and about the way you deal with criminals. Kill them first, and then worry about whether they were guilty or not later. So…Why don’t you just give me the gun?”
Greg remains silent for several moments.
“Nah, I don’t think so,” he says eventually. “Well, as brilliant a trip as this was, I think it’s time I started heading back to camp; It’s getting dark, and I’m sure Claire could use my company right now. See ya, Chris.”
And with that, he walks off.

Chris is heading back through the jungle, in the general direction of the beach. Not wanting to have to walk back with Greg, he had examined the skeleton for a further fifteen minutes (In an unsuccessful attempt to come across more guns) before setting off into the jungle. Now, however, he is starting to regret that decision. As he walks on, he hears a rustling in the bushes ahead of him. He stops abruptly, and pulls out the knife again. He waits with bated breath, as two figures emerge from the darkness…
“Hello there, Chris,” says a familiar voice.
“Oh…Hello, John,” replies a slightly relieved Chris. He looks at the man with Locke, and vaguely recognises him as one of the crash survivors. “Hey…”
“Ethan,” says the man.
“Ethan,” repeats Chris. “So, what are you guys doing out here?”
“That’s funny,” says Locke, smiling. “I was just about to ask you the same thing. But, since you asked first, we’re hunting.”
“Hunting?” asks Chris. “In the dark?”
“Oh, yeah,” says Ethan. “A lot of animals come out at night. Gives us an opportunity to catch something other than boar.”
Chris nods awkwardly.
“So, Chris,” says Locke. “It’s your turn. What are you doing out here?”
“I’m, uh…” Chris hesitates. “I’m kind of lost. I was heading back to the beach, but it’s a lot harder to keep track of where you’re going in the dark…”
“The beach is about a mile that way,” says Ethan quickly, pointing ahead of him. “You would have got there in the end.”
“Thanks,” says Chris gratefully. “Well, I better get going. Good luck with the hunting.” He turns to walk away, but stops quickly. “Oh, by the way, John…Before I forget…This is yours.”
Chris holds out the knife to Locke.
“That’s OK, Chris,” says Locke, smiling. “You can keep it for now. I’ve got plenty more where that came from. And besides, something tells me you might need it for a while longer.”
“Oh, OK,” says Chris. “Thanks, John. Well, see you guys later.” And with that, he walks off into the jungle.

Chris finally makes it back to the beach.
‘It’s been a long day,’ he thinks to himself, as he walks over to his tent and slumps inside. It was hard to believe that less than twenty-four hours ago, he had still been feeling guilty for punching Greg. Now, after one eventful day, he wondered if HE would ever trust Greg again. As if drawn by his thoughts, Greg appears at the doorway of Chris’ tent.
“Claire’s gone,” Greg says simply. It takes several seconds for these words to mean anything to Chris. Suddenly, he remembers why he had set out into the jungle with Greg in the first place.
“Is she?” Chris says, trying to arrange his face into a look of surprise. “Gone where?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Chris,” says Greg angrily. “Charlie convinced her to move up to the caves. Pretty convenient that I was out of the way, eh?”
“Yeah, sure is,” says Chris.
“You didn’t really want to show me that skeleton, did you?” asks Greg. “You were just keeping me busy while Charlie conned Claire into moving, weren’t you?”
“Actually, it was a bit of both,” says Chris. “Charlie asked me to keep you distracted for the day, but I saw it as the perfect opportunity to show you the skeleton, which I was planning on doing anyway. Two birds with one stone.”
“So, why did you want to show me the skeleton?” asks Greg.
“Because I hadn’t told anyone else about it,” explains Chris. “I hoped that by showing you it, I might regain your trust. Now I see what a stupid idea that was…”
There is an awkward silence.
“So…” Greg begins. “You did do that to keep me away from Claire today, then?”
“Yeah,” answers Chris. “Why? Have you got a problem with that?”
Clearly, from the look on Greg’s face, he does have a problem with that.
“Well,” says Greg. “I won’t pretend I’m not annoyed…”
“So what are you gonna do?” Chris says in mock concern. “Shoot me?”
He glares at Greg, who stares back for a short while, before withdrawing his head from the door of the tent, and walking off down the beach. Chris sits in silence for a few moments, then scoffs loudly and lies down, falling asleep very quickly.

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

Last edited by Sawbucks on Wed Mar 19, 2008 6:17 pm; edited 2 times in total

well I dont mind, i hope we get to see the next episode soon, i love the way they are going and i am sure your fanalie is an excelent one.

_________________
"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

It's an unexpected one, I can tell you that. And Greg will play a big part in it. But that's a LONG way away! I think I'll do episodes 10 & 11 (Which are linked closely in the same way episodes 8 & 9 were), then do my next transcript, then come back and do another couple of fanfics. How does that sound?

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

sounds great Very Happy

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

OK, I've finally finished the next installment! Try and avoid hitting the "edit" button this time, blitz! Wink

RAISED BY ANOTHER

Chris is walking through the jungle alone when he hears a rustling in the bushes ahead of him. He stops and pulls out his knife, waiting expectantly. Hurley bursts out of the trees, stopping when he sees Chris.
“Oh, thank God,” Hurley says, out of breath.
“Hurley, are you OK?” asks Chris.
“Thank God…” Hurley says again, apparently not listening to Chris. “I need to ask you something, dude.”
“OK…” says Chris.
“Why were you in Australia?” asks Hurley.
“What?” says Chris.
“I need to know why you were in Australia,” says Hurley. “Quick, before he attacks her again.”
“He attacks…?” asks a confused Chris. “Hurley, what are you talking about?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Hurley says, shaking his head. “You got any water?”
“Uh…yeah,” says Chris. He takes off his pack and pulls out a bottle, but it is empty. “What the…I just filled this up at the caves!”
“Dude…” Hurley says slowly. “You better get to the caves.” Chris stares at him in shock.
“Hurley, what’s going on?” he asks, just as confused as ever.
“Get to the caves!” screams Hurley. Chris stands staring at him for several seconds, then turns and jogs in the direction of the caves. He has not run far, however, when he comes across Charlie and Claire.
“Chris!” says Claire, smiling.
“Hey,” says Chris. “What are you guys doing out here?”
“We’re leaving,” says Charlie.
“Er…leaving?” asks Chris.
“Yeah,” replies Claire. “We’re going to Los Angeles. They’re waiting for us.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” asks a sceptical Chris.
“They’re waiting for us,” says Claire again. “They’re good people.”
Suddenly, Claire and Charlie disappear in a cloud of red leaves. Chris cries in shock as he watches the leaves slowly fall to the ground, forming a four-lettered word on the jungle floor: HELP.
Chris stares at the word for a second, then takes off towards the caves again. Something strange is definitely going on, and he knew that if anyone can explain it, it’s Locke.
Chris runs up to the entrance of the caves to see Jack standing there, watching him.
“Jack…” Chris pants. “I need to see Locke. I need him to help me.”
“Sorry, Chris,” says Jack. “But John’s busy right now. He’s helping me. We’re going to find Charlie and Claire.”
“Wha…You already know?” asks Chris. “Well, maybe I can come along and help you.”
“Sorry, Chris,” Jack says again. “But you need to stay here. You’re not coming.”
Jack pushes Chris backwards and he falls into a pit. Chris looks up to see Jack and Locke walk away. Chris sighs, and sits down on the floor of the pit. As he sits wondering how he will get out, Michael approaches the edge of the pit, and throws a rope down.
“Quick, climb up,” says Michael. Chris gets to his feet and climbs up. “You need to come with me.”
“Come with you where?” asks Chris.
“To find Charlie and Claire,” Michael explains. “You have to find them. You have to find them, or you’ll never learn the truth.”
“What?” asks Chris. Michael chooses to ignore this, and starts walking into the jungle.
“Follow me,” he says. Chris follows him, but they do not walk far before they stop again. Michael looks at Chris. “This is as far as I can take you. As much as I can help you. Good luck, Chris.”
And, without another word, Michael turns and walks back in the direction they came.
“Chris!” shouts someone from ahead of him. Chris looks round to see Charlie.
“Charlie! You’re back!” shouts Chris.
“That’s right,” says Charlie. “I’m back.”
“Where’s Claire?” asks Chris.
“She’s in hospital,” says Charlie.
“What?” asks Chris, sure he misheard Charlie.
“She’s in hospital,” repeats Charlie. “You need to get her back. Call the police, they’ll know what to do.”
Suddenly, a siren blares out from ahead. Chris runs forward to see a police car parked in a small clearing, Greg smiling at him from the driver’s seat.
“Hop in, Chris!” Greg shouts happily. Chris walks slowly over to the car and gets in the passenger’s seat.
“Greg…” begins Chris. “What the hell is going on here?”
“We’ve got work to do,” says Greg. He puts his foot down on the accelerator and drives the car through the jungle. “OK, here’s what I want you to do: I want you to go and help bring Claire back. Got that?”
“Er…” says Chris, as Greg stops the car again.
“Go, now,” says Greg. “And take this. It’ll help you.” He hands Chris a long pole; attached to the pole is…a French flag?
“Wait, what am I supposed…” begins Chris.
“Go!” says Greg, forcing him out of the car, before driving away.
Chris looks around and spots Claire sitting in a rocking chair. He runs over to her, the flag in his hand.
“Claire!” Chris shouts. “Claire, are you OK?”
“Yes,” answers Claire. “But don’t make me drink it again. It’s too sour.”
“What?” asks Chris.
“Claire?” shouts a man’s voice from a short distance away. Chris looks down at the flag in his hand. Without thinking, he wraps the flag around himself and Claire, and they disappear, to the sound of gunfire…

Chris jumps awake: That was one strange dream. As he sits up, panting and sweating, he rubs his head. Already, the details of the dream were slipping out of his mind. What had he been looking for? How did he find it? Before he can begin to answer these questions, tiredness takes over once more, and Chris lies back down again. Almost instantly, he falls asleep, and when he next wakes up, he won’t even remember having the dream at all.

Chris awoke the following morning to a beautiful sunny day; their sixteenth day on the island. It has been six days since Chris and Greg had set off into the jungle together, and since the night of their return, they have not spoken a word to each other. Chris had decided that if he was ever to trust Greg again, it would take some time, and the less time he spent with the Australian until that moment, the better. Rather than sitting around thinking about the truth of the attack on him on their sixth day on the island, Chris decided that now was a good time to do something he had been planning on doing since the day after the crash: Learn to swim. It had taken a lot out of Chris to get into the water for the first time - the memories of Joanna still quite fresh in the back of his mind - but he eventually convinced himself that sitting around grieving would not have been what the woman he had bonded with so strongly during the first few days would have wanted. And so he had approached the woman named Rachel two days ago, and asked her if she knew how to swim.
“Yeah, I can swim,” she had said. “I’m not exactly a professional or anything, but I can teach you the basics.”
“That’s all I hoped for,” Chris had replied, smiling broadly. And so that afternoon, Chris had taken the first few steps towards overcoming his fear of the water, and learning how to swim.

Chris decides to take a stroll along the beach before breakfast; He had arranged to have another swimming “lesson” later that day. Heading in no general direction, he walks along at a nice, gentle pace, enjoying the feeling of the sun on the back of his neck. Looking ahead, he spots Jack, Kate and Charlie, all of whom seem to be in deep discussion, walking in his direction. Not wanting to interrupt their conversation, Chris side steps out of their path, but not without catching a snippet of what they are saying:
“Did you see anyone leave the beach last night?” Charlie asks Kate.
“People come and go, but…” says Kate. “No, I don’t-I don’t know.” She gives a sideways glance at Jack. “What?”
“I’m not sure anything actually happened,” Jack says.
“Wait, what?” asks Charlie, in an arrogant tone. Sensing an argument, Chris decides to jog away from them before he gets caught up in their business as well.

Continuing along the beach, Chris spots Boone, who is looking aggravated about something.
“Hey, Boone!” shouts Chris. Boone looks round to see Chris jogging towards him.
“Hey, man,” says Boone.
“What’s up?” asks Chris. “You look like something’s bothering you.”
“Boone!” someone shouts from behind them. Chris and Boone look round to see Shannon striding towards them.
“Yeah, something is bothering me,” Boone says to Chris. “And here it comes…”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Shannon demands of Boone, completely ignoring Chris.
“I’m heading back to the tent to pack,” Boone says simply.
“No, you’re not,” says Shannon.
“Pack?” asks a confused Chris.
“We’re moving up to the caves,” says Boone.
“We are not moving to the caves!” says Shannon adamantly. “You’re not packing anything because we’re not going anywhere!”
“What’s so wrong with the caves?” asks Chris.
“She’s scared that that thing will eat us if we move inland,” explains Boone.
“I am not scared!” says Shannon. “I just don’t see the point of moving our stuff up there where there’s nothing wrong with the beach.”
“Well, for one thing,” says Chris. “You’re closer to the water supply. Two, John’s at the caves, so you’re gonna get the boar quicker. And third, you’ve got a lot more shade from the sun…”
“Yeah, but how will she work on her tan if she’s in the middle of the jungle?” Boone asks sarcastically, before turning to look at his sister. “You see, Shannon? There are more important things than getting a good tan. And it’s not just me that thinks moving to the caves would be idea. Chris obviously…”
“Well, if you think it’s such a great idea,” Shannon says, looking at Chris. “Then why are you still down on the beach?”
“Because…” Chris hesitates. “Because I’m not always the best at making decisions, Shannon.”
There is a slightly awkward silence. Finally, Boone looks round at Shannon.
“So…” he begins. “You gonna move up to the caves, then?”
“I’ll think about it,” she says quietly. “I mean, I still think the beach is safe enough. And Sayid obviously thought so, too.” She starts walking up towards her tent.
“Yeah, he did,” says Boone, following Shannon. “And then he took off on his own anyway.”
Chris watches them walk up the beach, thinking about Boone’s last words…The day he and Greg discovered the boat, Sayid had left the camp after he had nearly killed Sawyer. It had been an accident, of course, but Sayid was still deeply ashamed of himself, and felt that he couldn’t stay at the camp any longer. When Chris learned of the news the day after, he didn’t find it comforting: If there was one person on this island that would have truly appreciated what finding a ship in the jungle meant, it would be Sayid. And now Chris was unsure whether he would ever see the Iraqi soldier again…

“Chris!” shouts someone nearby. Chris snaps out of his reverie and looks round to see Rachel walking towards him.
“Hey, Rachel,” Chris says, smiling.
“Hey,” Rachel responds. “You ready?”
“Almost,” says Chris. “Just let me grab a papaya or something first. I’ll eat it on the way.”

Chris and Rachel are walking along the beach, headed for the secluded spot where they had been doing the swimming lessons (Chris was slightly embarrassed and wanted to do it somewhere out of sight of the camp).
“OK, you ready?” asks Rachel, taking off her shirt and shorts, so that she is in nothing but a bikini.
“I’m ready,” replies Chris, trying hard to stay focussed, something that was very difficult to achieve with Rachel watching you, wearing nothing but a bikini.
“Then let’s swim,” smiles Rachel. She walks down to the water and paddles a short distance out from the shore. “Now, remember, just keep your head above the water, and concentrate on keeping going until you reach me.”
Chris nods and walks slowly down to the sea. Breathing heavily, he steels himself and moves forward into the water. Slowly, but surely, he swims towards Rachel in his basic ‘Doggy Paddle’.
“Excellent,” says Rachel, smiling. “Now, let’s do that again, shall we?”
Chris and Rachel repeat this for almost an hour, building both Chris’ experience in the water, and his confidence.
“You’ve come on a lot since you first came to me on Tuesday,” says Rachel, as she and Chris wade back to the shore.
“Well, it’s all thanks to you,” says Chris. He stops walking, the water up to his waist, and looks at Rachel, who also stops walking. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” Rachel smiles at him, and moves slowly towards him. Suddenly, a large wave crashes past, almost knocking them both off their feet. Chris regains his senses, and looks at Rachel awkwardly.
“We, er…” begins Chris. “We should get back to the, erm…The camp, you know?”
“Oh, right, yeah,” says Rachel, not meeting his eyes.

Chris returns to the beach camp, drying his hair with a towel, when Hurley walks up to him.
“Yo, dude,” says Hurley, a notepad in his hand.
“Hello, Hurley,” says Chris. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, I was kinda hoping you’d answer a few questions?” says Hurley.
“Questions?” asks Chris. “What kind of questions?”
“Questions about you,” replies Hurley. “I’m doing, like, a census. You know, so we can keep track of who’s down here, and who’s at the caves.”
“Wait, so you’re interviewing everyone?” asks Chris.
“Uh…yeah,” says Hurley.
“You need any help?” offers Chris.
“Nah, it’s OK,” replies Hurley. “I mean, thanks for the offer, and everything, but I’ve got pretty much everyone now anyway. Charlie, Jack, Kate…Locke.” He pauses, looking slightly freaked out by the last one, before continuing. “Anyway, I think I only need you, that Rachel chick, Neil, Boone and Shannon. Shouldn’t take too long.”
“OK, so what do you want to know?” asks Chris.
“Your name,” says Hurley. Chris raises his eyebrows. “Don’t worry, dude. I know it’s Chris, but I need your last name as well.”
“Murray,” says Chris. “Chris Murray.”
“Uh-huh,” mutters Hurley, writing Chris’ name down. “OK, your place of residence?”
Chris thinks before answering.
“Well, my real home, and my family, is back in Scotland, in a town called Hawick,” he says at last. “Though I haven’t been there for six months.”
“Hoik?” asks Hurley. “H-O-I-K?”
“No, no, ‘Hawick’,” says Chris, smiling. “It’s spelt H-A-W-I-C-K, though it is pronounced ‘Hoik’.”
“OK…” Hurley says, still writing. “So, were you in Australia? For the last six months?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Chris says quietly.
“OK, and the reason for being in Australia?” asks Hurley.
“I was…” begins Chris. “I was looking for a new life. A better life.”
There is a slightly awkward silence.
“Um…” says Hurley, hesitating. “And the reason you were going to Los Angeles?”

In flashback, Chris is standing in a queue in a travel agent’s in Australia. He examines the many posters of deals and offers on the wall, as he waits for the man at the front of the queue to resolve his argument with the ticket agent.
“Please, sir, lower your voice,” says the female ticket agent.
“I will lower my voice when you get me a ticket for a flight to Los Angeles today,” says the man, angrily. His accent is American; Chris can’t see him from behind the two people in front of him.
“I’m sorry, sir,” says the agent. “But with such short notice, I can’t get you on a plane that flies out this afternoon. You’re going to have to wait until tomorrow before you can go home. I’m sorry, sir, but it’s the best I can do.”
“The best you can do?” asks the man. “The best you can…? I came to this country for something, something that I paid good money for, and they told me I couldn’t do it!”
Chris, trying not to listen to the man’s words, starts reading some posters about various treks across the outback.
“I am aware of your situation, sir,” says the agent. “However, we are not responsible for the problems you encountered. That particular issue lies with the organisers of the Walkabout.”
Chris, who had just that very second been reading about the aboriginal rite of passage known as the ‘Walkabout’, freezes in shock.
“I’m sorry, sir,” says the agent again. “But the earliest flight to Los Angeles I can get you is Oceanic Flight 815. It departs from Sydney Airport at 2:15 tomorrow afternoon.”
“Fine,” says the man grumpily. “I’ll take it.”
Chris tries not to look as the man leaves the front of the queue upon purchasing his ticket, but cannot stop himself. Glancing over, he is shocked to see that the man (Who is bald and looks older than 50) is in a wheelchair. The man looks over at Chris, who quickly averts his gaze as the queue moves forward.
“How can I help you, dear?” says the ticket agent politely.
“Hello there,” says the man now at the front of the queue, his accent Australian. “I need a ticket on that plane, too. Flight 815.”
“Okey-dokey,” says the ticket agent. “Needing a break, eh?”
“Oh, it’s not for me,” says the man. “It’s for…a friend.”
“Oh, OK,” says the agent.
“Yeah, I’m just paying for the ticket, that’s all,” says the man.
“Right, then I’ll need both your details,” says the agent. “Yours and the passenger’s, that is.”
“Oh, right,” says the man. “Well, my name is Richard Malkin. Yes, Malkin: M-A-L-K….”
Chris begins thinking hard to himself: Should he go to Los Angeles? After all, it’s far away from both Scotland and Australia. And it would be a big change from both, which is exactly what he (And not to mention everyone else) needs right now.
“Thank you very much,” says the ticket agent, as the man named Richard Malkin walks out the building. “Next please.”
“Hello, I’m Agent Robbie Hewitt,” the man in front of Chris says quietly, taking a step forward. “There’s, er, been a slight mix-up. I need to change this ticket to Los Angeles to tomorrow, if that’s at all possible?”
“Er…” says the ticket agent awkwardly. “That should be alright. Er, would Oceanic Flight 815 be OK?”
“Yes, that will be fine,” replies the man in front of Chris.
“OK, I’ll just arrange that for you,” says the agent. Chris tries to block out the exchange of details, not wanting to appear to be eavesdropping on such a suspicious man.
“Thank you very much,” says the man. He straightens up, glances quickly at Chris, before leaving the shop. Chris steps forward, making his mind up.
“How can I help you?” asks the ticket agent, who seems glad to have finally reached the last person in the queue.
“Can I…” begins Chris. “Can I have a ticket on that plane as well, please, miss? Flight 815?”
“Los Angeles certainly is popular today,” smiles the agent.
“Yeah,” says Chris awkwardly.
“Anything in particular you’re going for?” asks the agent. “Or anyone?”
Chris looks at her in silence for a few seconds.
“No, not really,” he says at last. “I just need to get as far away from my life as possible.”

On the island, Hurley is still waiting for an answer from Chris.
“Dude?” Hurley says, slightly impatiently. Chris jumps to his senses again.
“Huh?”
“Why were you going to Los Angeles, dude?” asks Hurley.
“Oh, right…” says Chris. “I…I was…I was still looking for that new life.”

Chris is sitting outside his tent, peacefully letting the sun beat down on him. Looking around, he spots Rachel walking past, alone, and wonders if he should go talk to her. But what would he say? How does he explain that nothing can happen between them, when neither of them has ever expressed feelings for the other? Though Rachel had definitely been leaning in to kiss him earlier this morning…Maybe he should talk to her. He needed to put a stop to things before they started. He couldn’t let something happen to her because they were close, in the same way it happened to Melissa and Joanna.
Deciding to go and talk to her, Chris gets to his feet, but has barely walked two metres from his tent when Hurley walks towards him.
“Yo, dude!” shouts Hurley.
“Hey, Hurley,” says Chris, looking round.
“Dude, do you still wanna help me with the census?” asks Hurley.
“Yeah, of course,” replies Chris. “But I thought you only had, like, four people to interview anyway?”
“Oh, no, I’ve interviewed everyone,” says Hurley. “But then I got the flight manifest from Sawyer, and I thought it would be a good idea to tick everyone’s names off on that, too. You know, just to keep track of things.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” smiles Chris.
“So…” says Hurley. “You wanna help me check the names?”
“Sure,” says Chris, glad of a reason to put off the conversation with Rachel.

Chris and Hurley are sitting in Hurley’s tent, checking Hurley’s census information against the list of passengers on the flight manifest.
“‘Charlie Hieronymus Pace’,” says Chris, reading a piece of paper. He ticks Charlie’s name on the manifest, then turns back to the census entry. “‘Place of Residence: Los Angeles…’ I thought he was English?”
“Yeah, he is,” says Hurley, looking up from the entry he is checking. “He only just moved to LA.”
“Fair enough,” says Chris. “‘Reason for Travel: Organising comeback for band’?”
“Yeah,” Hurley says, in answer to Chris’ confused expression. “He was in that band, Drive Shaft.”
“Drive Shaft?” says Chris. “He was in Drive Shaft?”
“Yeah, why?” asks Hurley. “You heard of ‘em?”
“I was…” begins Chris. “I went to the first gig they did in London. Didn’t care much for their music.”
“Yeah, me neither,” says Hurley, smiling.
Chris moves onto the next piece of paper.
“‘Scott Jackson,’” says Chris, ticking the name off. “‘Place of Residence: Santa Cruz. Reason for Travel: All expenses paid vacation; Sales prize.’ Lucky him.” He picks up another piece of paper. “‘Hugo Reyes’?” he says, confused. “Who’s Hugo Reyes?”
“Dude, that’s me,” says Hurley.
“You interviewed yourself?” asks Chris.
“I had to,” says Hurley. “It’d look suspicious if I didn’t.”
“Good point,” says Chris. “So where did you get the nickname Hurley, then?”
“Trust me, dude, you don’t wanna know,” says Hurley.
“OK…” says Chris. “I won’t ask again, then, Hugo.”
“Dude,” says Hurley. “I’d prefer it if you still called me ‘Hurley.’”
“Sure thing,” says Chris, close to laughing. “Though it will be nice to know, just in case.”
“Yeah, well, that’s why I started this census thing in the first place,” asks Hurley. “So we know who everyone is, in case there’s another accident, like the cave-in. Or if someone gets attacked again, like what happened to Claire…”
“What did you say?” asks Chris, staring at Hurley.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” asks Hurley.
“Claire was attacked?” shouts Chris. “By who?”
“We don’t know,” answers Hurley.
“Well, is she OK?” Chris asks, standing up.
“Yeah,” replies Hurley. “I mean, she’s a little shook up, but other than that…Hey, where are you going?”
“To the caves,” Chris says, running into the jungle.

Chris sprints through the jungle as fast as he can, wanting nothing more than to reach the caves and make sure Claire is all right. ‘This is all my fault,’ he thinks to himself. ‘I shouldn’t have let Charlie convince her to go up there.’ He leaves the path that runs from the caves to the beach, and takes a shortcut through the trees. Quite suddenly, he hears a snorting noise, and a boar charges out of the bushes, its tusk catching him square in the shin. Chris flies into the air, landing flat on his back on the jungle floor. He groans in pain, and sits upright. Looking down, he sees a large bloody gash across his left leg. Trying to ignore the agonising pain, he pulls himself up using a nearby tree, and starts limping towards the caves.

Chris hobbles into the caves, and, gasping for breath, makes his way towards Jack and Kate.
“Chris, what happened?” asks Jack, spotting Chris’ bloodied leg.
“Claire…” Chris says quietly. “Where is Claire?”
“What happened to your leg?” asks Jack.
“Where is Claire?” says Chris more firmly.
“She’s moving back to the beach,” replies Jack. “She’s fine. Now let me take a look at that leg.”
He helps Chris over to the corner of the caves that he has set up as his ‘infirmary’.
“So,” Jack says, moving in for a closer look at the wound. “You wanna tell me what happened?”
“I was running through the jungle,” explains Chris. “And this boar came running out, and it gored me.”
“Does it hurt?” asks Jack.
“No, not really,” lies Chris. Jack presses down on the wound, and Chris jumps in pain.
“Sorry,” says Jack, smiling. “You said it didn’t hurt. I just don’t understand why you Scottish people try to play it down when you’re in pain. What, do think being hurt makes you weak, or something?”
“You speak like you’ve had dealings with Scottish people before,” says Chris. “You ever been to Scotland?”
“Personally, no,” says Jack. “But my parents went on vacation there, a couple of years back.”
“Oh, yeah?” says Chris, as Jack bandages up his leg.
“Yeah,” says Jack. “They spent most of their time there hill-walking. One day, they came across this guy that had fallen off the top of one of the cliffs. He was a real mess. If they hadn’t found him, he’d have died. Luckily, they did find him, and my father kept him alive until help arrived.”
Chris looks at him shock.
“Your father…” he says. “Is he a doctor, too?”
“Yeah,” says Jack. “Or at least, he was. He’s dead now. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious,” says Chris. “You know, ‘cos he kept the guy alive, and all.”
Jack looks at Chris, who refuses to look him in the eye.
“Anyway…” says Jack. “You should try and keep off this leg as much as possible for the next couple of days. I’m not saying you can’t walk around or anything, just don’t over-exert yourself. OK?”
“Yeah, OK,” says Chris, still distracted. “Thanks, Jack.”
“No problem,” says Jack. He gets up and walks back over to talk to Kate. Chris sits lost in his own thoughts, until Michael walks over to him.
“Hey, man,” says Michael. “You OK?”
“Yeah, thanks,” replies Chris.
“What happened?” asks Michael.
“I was gored by a boar,” answers Chris.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” says Michael, smiling.
Just then, Sayid stumbles into the caves, walks past Locke, and over to Jack and Kate.
“Sayid,” says Jack, spotting him.
“Listen to me,” gasps Sayid, collapsing onto the cave floor. “I found her, the Frenchwoman.”
“I need some water,” says Jack, looking at Kate. As Kate fetches some water, Jack looks down at Sayid. “What happened?”
“The woman, on the island…” says Sayid. “I had to come back. I had to come back.”
Kate brings Sayid a bottle of water, and he drinks deeply from it. Jack begins to tend to his leg, and he sits up and grabs Jack’s arm.
“We’re not alone,” says Sayid, as Jack looks at him in slight shock. Sayid gives Jack a meaningful look, then leans back on the ground in exhaustion. Nearby, Chris stands up quickly and tries to walk over to them, but stumbles.
“Whoa!” says Michael, getting up and helping Chris back down onto the ground. “You should stay put, man. Get some rest.”
Just then, Hurley runs into the caves, and goes over to Kate and Jack, who is tending to Sayid’s leg.
“We got a problem,” says Hurley. “The manifest.”
Jack continues to tend to Sayid’s wound.
“Jack, the census, the names of everyone who survived,” Hurley continues. “All 46 of us. I interviewed everyone, here, at the beach. I got their names. One of them…One of them isn’t…”
Jack is still working on Sayid, apparently ignoring him.
“Jack,” says an impatient Hurley. Jack finally looks up. “One of them isn’t in the manifest. He wasn’t on the plane.”
Chris abandons his struggle to get to his feet again, and collapses back onto the ground, staring at Hurley in shock…

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Last edited by Sawbucks on Fri Feb 15, 2008 10:36 pm; edited 2 times in total

I didnt press edit this time Laughing

Great episode Sawbucks, really enjoyed it, cant wait for more.

_________________
"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Thanks! And it was a relief to come on and see that it was still here! Wink

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

Lol me too, because even though i knew i clicked on the quote button I have been wrong about this stuff too many times to think i am right.

_________________
"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Lol, well, there was no lasting damage done that time anyway! Very Happy

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

BRILLIANT!
I hadn't actually read this Sawbucks, but I'm glad I have!!! Keep up the good work!
Very Happy

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Thank you, Ben! After I get the last three transcripts of season 2 done, I'm gonna really concentrate on the fanfic, so they may be coming slightly more frequent than once every two months, lol!!!!

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

wow sawbucks!!

thats all i can say!

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I laugh in the face of danger...then hide until it goes away!!!

Smile...it makes people wonder what you're up to!

NOT DEAD BUT GONE PADFOOT LIVES ON!

Not to be rude, Rhianna, but what are you "wow"ing about now? Laughing

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

offence taken...lol....
i was saying "wow" about your writing you spoooooon!

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I laugh in the face of danger...then hide until it goes away!!!

Smile...it makes people wonder what you're up to!

NOT DEAD BUT GONE PADFOOT LIVES ON!

Oh, right...Then I'll take it as a compliment, I guess! Very Happy

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ALL THE BEST COWBOYS HAVE DADDY ISSUES

“He wasn’t on the plane,” says Hurley. We are exactly where we left off, with Jack tending to Sayid’s wounded leg, and Chris watching from a short way away.
“Who wasn’t on the plane?” asks a confused Kate.
“Ethan,” says Hurley. “The Canadian guy. He’s not on the passenger manifest.”
“Well, where the hell is he?” demands Jack.
“I don’t know,” replies Hurley. “I saw him yesterday, but now…”
Jack stands up and looks round at the group of survivors in the caves.
“Has anyone seen Ethan?” he asks.
“Sayid’s leg!” Kate shouts at Jack.
“Has anyone seen Ethan?” Jack asks again. Michael, who has his hands on Chris’ shoulders to prevent him from standing up again, lets go and walks towards Jack.
“Yeah, yeah,” says Michael. “He went to get some wood. Took off on the path to the beach. Is he okay? What happened?”
Jack looks around the caves, as Chris gets to his feet and slowly limps towards them.
“Where’s Charlie?” asks Jack.
“What?” says a confused Kate.
“Where’s Charlie?” repeats Jack.
“He went after Claire,” Locke says, looking at Jack.
“And I don’t think he was the only one,” says Chris. Everyone looks round at him.
“What?” asks Jack.
“By the looks of it, that’s what Ethan’s up to, too,” Chris explains. The group continues to look puzzled. “Oh, come on. Claire wakes up in the middle of the night saying someone attacked her. And now we find out that one of us isn’t…well, one of us.”
“We still don’t know that it was…” begins Jack.
“What would any one of us have to gain by attacking a pregnant girl?” asks Chris. “Ethan, on the other hand, may have some sick motivation to do so. We don’t know why he passed himself off as one of our own, but it seems that he wanted to do whatever it is he’s here to do without us suspecting him.”
Jack stares at him for a moment, then looks over at Locke.
“I’m going after them,” says Jack.
“I thought you’d say that,” says Locke. “Let’s go.”
He and Jack start walking towards the caves’ exit.
“Wait up!” Chris shouts after them. “I’m coming with you.”
“No,” says Jack, looking round at him.
“What?” asks Chris.
“You’re not coming,” says Jack.
“Why the hell not?” asks Chris.
“You’re injured and…” begins Jack.
“Just ‘cos you’re a doctor, doesn’t mean you can tell me what I can and can’t do,” says Chris.
Jack is about to retort, but Locke cuts in.
“This argument is irrelevant,” says Locke. “You’re wasting time. Chris, just stay here and get some rest. Jack and I will go and find Charlie and Claire.”
Chris stares at Locke for a moment, then turns away from them. Locke looks at Jack, who nods, and the two of them take off into the jungle. Chris walks over to Sayid and sits down next to him.
“What did you find out there?” Chris asks, still seething at being told what to do by Jack.
“You mean apart from the Frenchwoman?” Sayid says faintly.
“Right, the Frenchwoman,” says Chris. “The one that’s been on the island for 16 years. And how the hell is she still alive?”
“I don’t know,” replies Sayid. “She was too interested in who I was to start divulging her secrets to survival.”
“So, she was alone?” asks Chris.
“Yes,” Sayid mutters, his voice becoming fainter and fainter. “The rest of her research team are long dead.”
“Or at least she says they are,” Chris says wisely.
“What do you mean by that?” Sayid asks, looking confused.
“Well, for one thing, where did Ethan come from, if he’s not on her team?” asks Chris. Sayid gives him a doubtful look. “What? It’s not so hard to believe. I mean, Ethan’s Canadian, right? And the last I heard, they speak French in some places of Canada. Maybe they were on some Canadian research expedition.”
“So why would she say her team are all dead then?” asks Sayid.
“Because if she told you the truth, their plan wouldn’t work,” says Chris, with the air of someone teaching something very simple to someone very dense.
“Their plan?” asks Sayid, raising an eyebrow. “You mean, to kidnap Charlie and Claire?”
“Who knows what their plan is?” says Chris.
“Hey, Chris!” someone shouts nearby. Chris looks round to see Boone and Shannon walking towards him. Chris stands up and limps over to meet them.
“Is Claire OK? I heard she was attacked,” says Boone.
“I don’t know,” says Chris. “Ethan – you know, the Canadian guy? He wasn’t on the plane. And now he’s disappeared, and so have Charlie and Claire.”
“What do you mean he wasn’t on the plane?” asks Boone.
“I mean he was on the island before we were,” explains Chris.
“What?” asks Shannon. “You mean, with the French lady?”
“We don’t know,” says Chris. “Jack and Locke went out after them, so we’ll just have to wait and see what they come back with.” Boone looks slightly off-put by the bitterness in Chris’ tone, and remains silent.
“Come on, Boone,” says Shannon. “Let’s go get our water.”
Chris turns away to leave them to it, and walks over to where Michael, Walt and Vincent the dog are sat.
“Hey, man,” says Michael, looking up as Chris reaches them.
“Hey,” responds Chris. “Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all,” says Michael. Chris sits down next to him and is just about to speak when he spots Locke returning to the caves. Without a word to anybody, Locke walks over to his sleeping area, which is relatively close to where Chris is sitting, and pulls out his case of knives. Kate, also spotting Locke, walks over to him.
“John, did you find anything?” asks Kate. Chris turns his head and listens carefully.
“Not yet,” replies John, sorting through the knives in his case.
“Well, where’s Jack?” asks Kate, looking around for any sign of the doctor.
“He’s still out there,” Locke says simply.
“You let him go alone?” asks Kate.
“Don’t worry, I’ll catch up,” says Locke, storing his case away again. “What’s the word from the beach?”
“Nothing,” replies Kate. “Nobody has seen him. I’m coming with you.”
“I figured you might,” says Locke, handing Kate a knife. Boone walks past Chris, Walt and Michael, heading towards Locke and Kate, closely followed by Shannon.
“What are you doing?” Shannon demands of her brother. “We need to get our water and get back to the beach.”
Boone ignores Shannon, and looks at Locke.
“I heard you’re forming a search party,” Boone says. “Can I help?”
“This is a deserted island,” says Shannon, before Locke can respond. “There’s no choppers, no amber alerts. How exactly are you gonna find them?”
“By following Ethan’s trail,” explains Locke. “No one can walk through the wilderness without leaving signs, bending blades of grass, breaking twigs, especially with captives in tow. And yes, I could use another hand if you’re up for it.”
“I’m up for it,” says Boone.
“Then let’s get moving,” says Locke, handing Boone a knife. Michael watches them head for the exit of the caves, then looks round at Chris.
“I’ll be back in a second, man,” says Michael. He gets up and walks after Locke and the others. Walt also gets to his feet, picks up the end of Vincent’s lead and catches up with his father.
Chris, now alone, sighs and rubs his eyes; He can hardly believe that that same day he had been swimming (and flirting) with Rachel. Now the survivors’ entire community is in an uproar about Ethan’s infiltration of the group.
As Chris sits lost in his own thoughts, Michael returns, looking very annoyed at something.
“What’s wrong with you?” asks Chris.
“Locke doesn’t think I’m good enough to join his little search party,” says Michael. “Thinks I’ll slow him down. But we don’t need him. I’m gonna organise another search party, head south and look for Charlie and Claire there. You in?”
Chris stares at Michael, grateful that he wasn’t trying to convince him to stay and rest his leg.
“Aye, I’m in,” says Chris, getting to his feet.

Chris packs the last bottle of water into his pack, then straightens up and walks over to a small group of people standing nearby. Michael has managed to gather six people – including himself and Chris – to head south in search of their missing friends. Also going with them is Scott, Steve, Richard (An Asian survivor) and Neil (An American).
“Where’s Michael?” asks Chris.
“Getting some water,” says Neil, pointing. Chris looks over at the spring to see Hurley helping Michael fill up some bottles, watched by Walt. Michael loads the bottles into his pack and walks towards the group.
“Ready to go?” asks Michael. Everyone nods their heads. “All right. Let’s do this.”
Michael leads the way out of the caves and into the jungle.
“So…” Chris says awkwardly, as the group follow Michael. “Does anybody have any experience at this kind of thing? You know, tracking and everything?”
The others remain silent, which Chris takes as a ‘no’.
“Hey, man, it doesn’t matter if we have or not,” says Michael. “The important thing is that we’re out here looking. You never know what we might find. And it’s better than sitting doing nothing.”
Chris nods in agreement.
“Who do you think he is?” asks Neil. “Ethan, I mean. Where did he come from? How did he end up here?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” says Chris. “We track down the b*****d, take him prisoner and question him. See if we can find out what the hell is going on here…” Suddenly, his injured leg gives way and he stumbles forward.
“Whoa!” shouts Michael, helping Chris to his feet. “You OK?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks,” says Chris.
“You sure?” asks Richard. “Maybe you should go…”
“I’m not going back,” Chris says, firmly.
“But…” begins Richard.
“I’m not going back!” shouts Chris. Suddenly, there is a loud roar from their right. The group freezes in shock, as something makes its way towards them through the bushes. Chris sees a flash of white fur through a gap in the vegetation, and looks round at his companions.
“Run,” Chris says, simply. “Run! Run!” Michael and the others turn their tail and sprint away from the approaching grunts of the creature chasing them. As Chris runs, he notices a steep slope to his left. “Wait! Stop!” Chris shouts. The group stops running and looks at him.
“Are you crazy?” shouts Michael. “We need to keep moving!”
“Climb up here!” shouts Chris. He runs over to the foot of the slope and starts climbing as quickly as he can, pulling himself up with the help of a long, thick vine. The others waste no time in following him, and, panting and sweating, they finally reach the top of the slope. Chris turns and looks back in the direction they came, to see a polar bear staring ferociously up at them. Chris looks back round at the group, and they start running once more.

Chris collapses to the ground by a small stream and splashes his face with water. The rest of the group take off their packs and sit down.
“We can’t take too long,” Michael tells them, panting. “Five minutes or so. Then we need to get moving again; I don’t know how much longer we’ve got before the sun starts to set.”
Richard and Steve pull some fruit out of their packs, as Scott and Neil drink deeply from their water bottles. Michael walks over to Chris, who is sitting with his eyes closed, nursing his left leg.
“How’s your leg?” Michael asks, holding out a bottle of water to Chris.
“It’s been better,” replies Chris, taking the bottle from Michael and taking a large swig of water. “It’s been worse as well, mind you.”
“You know, you probably shouldn’t have come out here,” says Michael.
“Yeah, I know,” says Chris. “But I couldn’t sit back and let Ethan get away with this. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did. I’m already feeling guilty as it is.”
“Guilty? What for?” asks Michael.
“I, uh…” begins Chris. “I helped Charlie, when he convinced Claire to move up to the caves. If I’d just stayed out of it, Charlie probably wouldn’t have convinced her, and none of this would have happened.”
“But it did happen,” says Michael. “It’s not your fault, man.”
Chris falls silent, thinking.
“Do you…” he says, after a while. “Do you think the reason he took her…Do you think it’s because she’s pregnant?”
“I don’t know, man,” says Michael. “Maybe.” He pauses. “It’s amazing how much having kids can change your life; I would know. After Walt was born, my life was never the same again, and I didn’t even see him most of his childhood.”
“Why’s that?” asks Chris.
“His mom…” begins Michael. “She, uh, moved away, took Walt with her. Then she died, and now I have to look after Walt. I barely know a thing about him, but now I’ve got to be his dad. But I can’t be a dad. I…I…”
His voice tails off, and Chris smiles.
“I think you’re a much better father than you give yourself credit for,” says Chris. “And I think Walt knows that, too.”
“Thanks, man,” Michael says quietly. “Do, uh…Do you have any kids?”
Chris looks away from him.
“No,” Chris says softly. “I never much fancied having kids.”

In flashback, Chris is sitting on the edge of his chair at his flat, waiting nervously. The door of the flat opens, and Melissa, Chris’ now-deceased fiancée, walks in, looking pale.
“Melissa, what the hell’s going on?” says Chris, jumping up from his seat as she enters the room. “On the phone, you sounded terrible.”
“I have something to tell you,” Melissa says quietly.
“Have a seat first,” says Chris. He leads Melissa down onto his chair and crouches down in front of her so their faces are level. “What’s going on?”
“Chris…” Melissa begins. “I…I haven’t been feeling too good lately. I went to the doctors and they did some tests. I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t want you to worry about it. The, er…The results came back today and…”
Melissa looks down at the floor, but Chris lifts up her face and looks her in the eye.
“What is it?” Chris asks softly.
“I…I’m…” stutters Melissa. “I…Oh, Chris, I’m pregnant.”
Chris almost topples over in shock. Breathing heavily, he stands up and looks around the room.
“How…When….” Chris says. “But…Are you serious?”
Melissa gives a small nod.
“Are you…” begins Melissa. “I mean, are you happy?”
“Happy?” repeats Chris. “Mel, this is the happiest moment of my life. I’m going to be a dad. Of course I’m happy.”
Melissa breaks into a smile, and Chris starts laughing.
“I’m going to be a dad!” Chris shouts, ecstatic with joy.
“Oh, Chris!” says Melissa, jumping to her feet and hugging him. “I love you. And in two months, we’ll be married. And as if that wasn’t wonderful enough, we’re going to have a baby, too!”
“Yeah,” says Chris, grinning from ear to ear. “We’re going to have a baby.”

On the island, Chris and the rest of the group have started walking again. Michael is watching Chris, who is walking along in silence, looking at his feet.
“You OK, man?” asks Michael. “You’re kinda quiet.”
Chris looks up at him and forces a smile.
“I’m fine,” lies Chris. “My leg hurts, that’s all.”
“Well, when we get back, you should…” says Scott, but Chris holds up a hand to silence him. Chris stops walking, and the others, though slightly confused, do the same.
“What…?” begins Michael.
“Shh!” says Chris, pressing a finger to his lips. He points to his own ear, and the group stands in silence, listening carefully. A short distance away, voices can be heard: Male voices, at least two of them, though it is hard to make out what they are actually saying.
“Stay here,” Chris mutters quietly. Very slowly, he creeps towards the voices ahead of him. As he moves forward, two men come slowly into view; One of them is about Chris’ height, with brown hair and a small amount of stubble, the other is taller, broader, and has a thick, brown-grey beard. The latter’s clothes are far dirtier, ragged and more worn than the man he is talking to, who isn’t the slightest bit uncomfortable with the fact that his acquaintance is in his bare feet.
“…moved off the beach and settled in the jungle,” says the smaller of the two men, his accent American.
“And they don’t suspect anything at all?” asks the bearded man in his Southern accent.
“Nothing,” comes the first man’s reply. “Trust me, they’re all too busy worrying about Nathan.”
“And who does Nathan suspect?” asks the bearded man.
“He doesn’t suspect anyone,” replies the smaller man. “Neither does Bernard. And if the black guy is suspicious of anyone, he isn’t letting on. It’s just the women that are starting to get suspicious.”
“The women?” asks the bearded man, giving a small chuckle. “Including your beloved cop?”
“Including her,” says the smaller man. “And her name is…”
“I know what her name is, Goodwin,” says the bearded man. “And I also know that you’re wasting your time trying to convince Ben she’s a good person. He’s already scrubbed her name off the list once. That’s why she wasn’t taken on Sunday night….”
“She’s just a little misunderstood, that’s all,” says the man called Goodwin. “Come on, Tom. I’d have thought you of all people would appreciate that.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter what I appreciate,” says Tom. “It’s all up to him.”
“Yeah, well tell him that he should reconsider it,” says Goodwin. “I can change her.”
“I’ll pass the message on,” says Tom. “Anyway, I better get back to the Staff soon, preferably before the rain starts. I’m telling you, I don’t know why Ben sent Ethan of all people. Me and Juliet are having a hard time trying to cover for him…”
Chris’ eyes widen with shock at the mention of Ethan’s name. Very carefully, he takes off his pack, unzips it and pulls out Locke’s knife. Taking a deep breath, Chris charges through the bushes, the knife held out in front of him, only to find that both Tom and Goodwin are nowhere to be seen. As Chris looks around frantically for any sign of where they could have went, there is a rustling from the bushes he was just hiding in. He spins round to see Michael rushing towards him, followed by the rest of the search party.
“We saw you pulling out your knife and diving through the bushes,” says Michael. “What happened? What did you see?”
Chris remains silent for a moment, thinking carefully. Suddenly, rain begins to pour down heavily on them from above. Chris, though not particularly pleased with getting soaked, is grateful for something to distract Michael, who is eyeing him suspiciously.
“Nothing,” Chris says at last, the rain pounding on his head and shoulders. “I didn’t see anything.”
“But who were those guys?” asks Steve.
“I don’t know,” answers Chris. “They were gone by the time I got close.” He looks at Michael, who is studying him carefully.
“Did they leave any trail?” asks Michael.
“Not that I can see,” replies Chris. “Well, nothing that we’ll be able to follow, anyway: None of us have any experience at tracking, and it’ll be getting dark soon. We should head back to the caves before we get lost in the night.”

Chris and Michael lead their sodden search party back towards the caves, the rain having passed quickly.
“So…” begins Michael, checking that the others are out of earshot. “You really didn’t see anything, huh?”
“Nope,” Chris says flatly.
“Huh…” Michael says.
“Huh, what?” asks Chris.
“Nothing, man,” replies Michael. “It’s just the way you waited for a bit before pulling out your little knife, it looked like you were watching something from the bushes.”
“I wasn’t watching anything, I was thinking,” explains Chris.
“Thinking, huh?” asks Michael.
“That’s right.”
“Thinking about what?”
“About whether or not it was a good idea to charge at two potentially dangerous people with nothing but a small hunting knife,” says Chris.
“How do you know there were two of them?” asks Michael, suspiciously.
“I caught a quick glimpse of them when I was walking towards them,” lies Chris. “I didn’t tell you because they were already long gone by the time you caught up with me. Any more questions? Because I suggest you ask them now, while we’re still alone.”
Michael looks up to see that they have reached the caves.
“No, I’m good,” says Michael.
“Good,” says Chris. “Then lets go and see if Jack and the others found anything.” He leads the way into the caves. Almost immediately, Walt notices them returning.
“Dad!” shouts Walt. He walks towards the group and hugs Michael. “They brought Charlie back, but he hasn’t said anything since he came back.”
Chris looks over at Charlie, who is sitting a short distance away. Michael looks over at Hurley, who is closest.
“They find Claire?” Michael asks. Hurley shakes his head. Chris starts walking towards Charlie.
“I’m gonna go talk to…”
“Dude, I wouldn’t do that,” says Hurley. Chris stops and looks round at him. “He’s all messed up, man. They, like, tried to kill him, or something.”
“What?” asks Chris, confused.
“Yeah, Jack found him in the jungle and brought him back to life,” explains Hurley. “Anyway, I’d leave it for tonight, if I were you. Besides, Jack’s already talking to him.”
Chris looks back over to see Jack speaking to Charlie, who appears to be ignoring his every word.
“Fine, I’ll speak to him in the morning,” says Chris. He walks over to an unoccupied corner of the caves, and lies down, trying to clear his mind. He needs a good night’s sleep, and then tomorrow he’ll go out and look for Claire again.
‘But where do I look?’ Chris asks himself. He hadn’t been lying when he said there was no trail that could be followed left by the two men. Ethan, whom these men seemed to be associated with, would be equally difficult to track down. Chris yawns, as he fells his eyelids begin to droop. Maybe in the morning, when he had a clearer head, he would have a better idea of how to go about finding Claire. Chris is inches from sleep when he sees a flash of a police car before his eyes. Jumping awake, Chris sits bolt upright, suddenly remembering a dream in which he travelled in a police car to help Claire. He can’t remember the full contents of this dream, but none of that matters right now: All that matters is that he knows exactly who to go to for help, and, in the morning, he will do just that…

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

Last edited by Sawbucks on Wed Mar 19, 2008 6:19 pm; edited 2 times in total

Excelent episode sawnucks, loved it.

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Hehe, cheers. Greg will be back in "Whatever The Case May Be", just so you know! Very Happy

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

Great and just so you know i am about a quater of the way through pilot part 2 but i am in fanfic overdrive and should get alot done by the end of these holidays. and just as a spoiler This Greg is going to do the oposite to what my other Greg did. It will make more sence as i get to the end of season one and two.

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Wow! Sawbucks that was amazing! Looking forward to your next episode! Keep up the excellent work!

And Blitz, I'm looking forward to your next peice of work too!

Keep up the good work boys!
Very Happy

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Hehe, thanks, Ben! I spent all last night racking my brains, thinking of a way to make the storyline for "Whatever The Case May Be" fit in with the story of the actual episode! Finally, now that I've worked out a way to pass four days on the island before getting to the actual days covered by the episode, it's full steam ahead! Though it might be a while, because will most likely be the longest instalment yet, covering six island days! Very Happy

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Well i cant wait, no doubt it will be as good as this one. probab;y better.

_________________
"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Greg's in it, so you may well like it better, blitz! Very Happy

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

Yes i think i will. Wink

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

OK, I'm sorry it took so long, but maybe when you read it, you'll understand why. (It's a long 'un!)

WHATEVER THE CASE MAY BE

“Honestly, Jack, I’m fine.”
Chris is at the caves having his injured leg examined by the doctor.
“Really?” asks a disgruntled Jack.
“Yeah,” Chris says, avoiding Jack’s stare. Jack presses firmly on the wound, and Chris winces in pain.
“Doesn’t look like you’re fine,” Jack says, giving Chris a knowing look. “Now, if you’d stayed in here yesterday, like I told you, then you would be fine. But, instead, you decided to go running through the jungle, looking for Charlie and Claire…”
“Yeah, well I didn’t much fancy sitting around doing nothing while two of our own were being dragged about by a psychotic native,” Chris says bitterly. “Well, that, and the fact I was annoyed that you had ordered me to stay behind, like I wasn’t good enough to go with you, or something.”
“I didn’t tell you to stay behind because I didn’t think you’re ‘good enough’,” says Jack. “I told you to stay behind because you were hurt and needed some rest. And if you had stayed behind, you could have came back out with me into the jungle today to look for Claire.”
“Could have?” asks Chris.
“Yeah, could have,” repeats Jack. “But because you were running around a lot yesterday, you’ve added a lot of strain to the wound. It’ll take even longer to heal now. And you’ll need to stay off it for at least two days, maybe more.”
“Two days?” Chris asks. “You mean I’m supposed to sit around doing nothing for two days?”
“Do you want it to heal?” asks Jack.
“Aye,” Chris admits.
“Then you’ll ‘sit around doing nothing for two days’, then,” says Jack. “Can I trust you to do that?”
“Yeah, I suppose,” Chris says, sighing.
“Good,” smiles Jack. “Now, Kate and I are going out into the jungle to look for Claire. I’ll give you some painkillers before I go.”
He gets up and walks over to his medical supplies. Chris waits patiently, as he returns and hands him two pills and a bottle of water.
“Thanks,” says Chris, taking the pills from Jack. “Bottoms up.”
Chris puts the pills in his mouth, then takes a large drink of water to wash them down his throat.
“Good,” says Jack, as Chris swallows the pills. Chris notices that Jack looks rather uncomfortable, and looks at the doctor suspiciously for several seconds.
“What’s wrong?” Chris asks.
“Those, er…” Jack begins, his voice croaking slightly. “Those weren’t painkillers.”
Chris, feeling suddenly drowsy, stares at him in shock.
“What are you…talking about?” Chris says, his head spinning.
“They were, uh, sleeping pills,” explains Jack.
“What?” asks a shocked Chris. “Why did you…?”
“I needed to be sure you wouldn’t go wandering off again,” Jacks says, still feeling guilty. “You really need to rest that leg, Chris. It was the only way.”
“But…But…” stutters Chris, feeling his eyelids droop.
“Just lie down,” Jack says, helping Chris to the cave floor. “I spoke to Rose, and she said she’d keep an eye on you until I get back. I’m sorry, Chris, but it’s for your own good.”
Chris stares up at Jack, before drifting off to sleep, unable to resist it any longer…

Chris wakes up several hours later. It takes him several seconds to remember where he is, and several more to remember why. Slowly, he sits up and looks around, finally spotting an elderly black woman sitting close by, slicing up some fruit. He assumes this must be Rose, despite having never said a word to her since the crash. Rose looks up to see he is awake, and smiles.
“Oh, look who finally decided to get up,” she says.
“Yeah…” Chris says awkwardly. “Thanks for, uh…looking out for me…Rose, was it?”
“That’s right,” says Rose, still smiling. “And don’t you worry about it, honey. You looked like you needed a good sleep. How are you feeling?”
“Uh, still a little drowsy, I guess,” replies Chris.
“Well, if you want to get another few hours’ sleep, I’m not going anywhere in a hurry,” Rose says.
“Thanks, Rose, I appreciate that,” says Chris. “But I think I’ve had enough sleep for now. I think I’ll head back to the beach…”
Chris starts to rise from the cave floor, but Rose puts a hand on his shoulder and leads him back down again.
“Uh-uh, Jack said you need to keep off that leg for a couple of days, and that’s exactly what you’re going to do,” says Rose. “So why don’t you just sit yourself back down and have some fruit?”
Rose holds a bowl of fruit out for Chris.
“Uh, OK…” Chris says, unable to think of an argument. “Thanks.”
Chris starts eating the various slices of fruit from the bowl.
“She’ll be OK,” Rose says, watching him. Chris, slightly confused, swallows the papaya in his mouth and stares at her.
“What?” Chris says at last.
“Claire,” explains Rose. “She’ll be OK. I know you care about her. We all do. They’ll find her.”
“You don’t know that,” Chris says. “I mean, Locke and Boone didn’t even come back until this morning, and they still came back empty-handed. And if Locke can’t track Ethan down, who on this island can?”
“Well, maybe John’s not the one that’s meant to find her,” Rose says wisely. Chris looks at her, intrigued.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asks Chris.
“Well…” begins Rose. “Maybe all of this happened for a reason. You know, we survived the crash and were thrown together from all over the world…And, while we’re all in this together, we all have our separate destinies. Maybe it’s not John’s destiny to rescue Claire. Maybe it’s someone else’s.”
Chris stares at Rose in shock.
“You, er…” Chris says, clearing his throat. “You believe in destiny?”
“Yes,” Rose says simply. “Don’t you?”
“I don’t know,” Chris answers truthfully. “I never really thought about it. I guess I always thought that anything could happen in life, you know? That it doesn’t follow any decided plans, and that we sort of chose our own path. I never looked at it any other way.”
“It’s a fine line between denial and faith,” says Rose.
“Maybe…” says Chris. “But I don’t know what side I’m on.”
“When the time comes, you’ll know,” Rose says, smiling again. Chris suddenly realises just how tired he still feels.
“I think I’m going to try and get some more sleep,” says Chris. He lies back down, unsure whether he would actually get to sleep because Rose has left him with so much to think about. His head barely touches the ground, however, and he drifts off into another deep sleep.

Yawning, Chris wakes up the following morning, feeling very refreshed. He looks around the caves, trying to spot Jack, hoping that the doctor will declare his leg healed a day early so that he can get back to the beach and prepare for going out into the jungle again. His conversation with Rose the day before has left Chris full of renewed hope and determination to find Claire; All the talk about destiny made Chris believe that the island had shown him his own destiny in the form of a dream. He now knew that he would play an important part in the finding of Claire, and to do that he also required the help of Greg.
As Chris sits dwelling on his thoughts, Jack walks towards him, bags under his eyes.
“How are you feeling, Chris?” asks Jack.
“A lot better, thanks,” smiles Chris. “The sleep did me good. You should try it: You look like you could use a good nap.”
Jack barley manages to force a smile.
“Did you have any luck yesterday, out in the jungle?” asks Chris, already knowing the answer.
“No,” Jack replies gravely. “There wasn’t much of a trail to follow to begin with, but that rainstorm washed everything away.”
“So then what were you following?” asks Chris.
“We weren’t following anything, as such,” answers Jack. “We, er, just sort of headed in one direction, hoping to come across something. I’m guessing that’s what Locke and Boone are doing, too. They went back out yesterday, and haven’t came back since. Though I don’t suppose they’re having any more luck than we did.”
Jack falls silent. Chris gives him a few seconds to dwell on his thoughts before changing the subject.
“So, what’s the verdict on my leg?” Chris asks cheerfully. “Can I start walking on it again?”
“Well, I’ll need to take a look, but it has only been a day,” says Jack. “And I said two, at least.”
Chris looks slightly crestfallen, as Jack leans in for a closer look at the wound on Chris’ leg.
“Does it hurt at all?” asks Jack, not looking up from the wound.
“No, it feels fine,” Chris answers truthfully.
“Good,” mutters Jack. “Well, it’s healing pretty well. As good as I could have hoped for, anyway.”
Chris looks hopeful at this.
“But you’ll still need to stay off it until tomorrow,” says Jack.
“What?” Chris asks, unbelievingly. “But…I told you, it feels fine…”
“It doesn’t matter how it feels,” Jack says firmly. “It’s still in the healing process. If you keep off it for one more day, you should be able to walk away and forget about it, end of story. But if you go running around on it before it’s fully healed, you’re gonna need to have to spend another day or two lying around, doing nothing. Isn’t it better to get it over with now?”
Chris, though still very angry, nods his head.
“OK, so do I have your word?” asks Jack.
“Yeah, you have my word,” Chris replies flatly. “So, what, you’re not going to drug me this time?”
Jack, refusing to meet his eyes, stands up.
“I’ll come back and check on you tomorrow morning,” says Jack. “Hopefully by then you’ll be good to go.”
Chris watches the doctor walk away, then slams his fist against the cave wall in anger.

That afternoon, Hurley approaches Chris, whose head is nodding as he attempts to read a book.
“Dude, must be an awesome book,” says Hurley, smiling. Chris’ head jerks up as he snaps out of his trance.
“Yeah, thrilling,” says Chris, chuckling. He lays the book down beside him, and Hurley examines the cover.
“‘Animal Farm’?” asks Hurley, screwing up his face.
“There wasn’t exactly much to choose from,” explains Chris. “This was the best I could find.”
“Well, I never read the book,” says Hurley. “But I saw the movie. It was, like, animated. It sucked, dude. The ending was weird.”
“Yeah, well don’t spoil it for me,” says Chris, smiling. “I tried to read it when I was a boy, but couldn’t bring myself to read on after Boxer died.”
Hurley smiles, and pulls out his portable CD player.
“Thought you could use this, dude,” says Hurley, handing Chris the CD player.
“What?” asks Chris in shock; He has seen Hurley listening to his music a lot since the crash, and couldn’t quite believe he was giving it away freely.
“Yeah, Jack said he told you to lie around doing nothing all day,” says Hurley. “I figured that would be pretty boring, so I thought you might want to listen to some music to keep yourself occupied.”
“Oh, right…” says Chris, understanding that Hurley was only giving the CD player for one day. “Thanks, Hurley. I appreciate that.”
“No worries, man,” says Hurley, smiling.
“Hopefully I’ll be back on my feet tomorrow, so you’ll have it back by then,” says Chris, returning Hurley’s smile.
“I hope so, dude,” says Hurley. “Well, I’ll catch you later.” He gets up to leave.
“Yeah, thanks again, man,” smiles Chris, as Hurley walks away. Chris pulls the headphones over his ears and turns the CD player on. Leaning back, he relaxes as he listens to a song he’s never heard before.
“Please don’t let my tears persuade you,
I had hoped I wouldn’t cry,
But lately teardrops seem a part of me…”

Chris’ head nods as he listens to the music on Hurley’s CD player. Someone walks past nearby, and Chris’ eyes spring open to see Sayid walking towards the spring, an empty bottle in his hand. Chris picks up his own bottle and follows Sayid.
“Hey, Sayid!” Chris says in a friendly tone, despite his continuing anger at having to sit around doing nothing.
“Hello, Chris,” says Sayid. “How is your leg?”
“That’s funny, I was just going to ask you the same thing,” says Chris, smiling. Sayid, to Chris’ mild surprise, returns the smile before dipping his bottle into the small pool of water to fill it.
“I cannot complain,” says Sayid, as Chris imitates him and starts filling up his own bottle.
“Well, that makes one of us,” says Chris, some of the bitterness returning to his voice.
“I’m sure you will be back on your feet in no time,” says Sayid.
“Yeah, well that moment can’t come soon enough,” mutters Chris. “So, you heading back to the beach?”
“Yes, the signal fire will no doubt need tending to,” explains Sayid. “I don’t know how much longer Sawyer will continue to keep it burning, especially when there is nothing in it for him.”
“Hopefully I won’t be far behind you,” says Chris. “Jack said I should be able to get up and about again tomorrow, I just hope he doesn’t change his mind.” There is a short pause as the two men screw the caps back onto their now-full bottles. “Can I ask you something before you go, Sayid?”
Sayid examines Chris curiously.
“Of course,” the Iraqi says at last.
“When you were out in the jungle,” says Chris. “When you were taken prisoner by the Frenchwoman…You didn’t see anything of these other people on the island? You know, Ethan’s lot?”
Sayid stares at Chris, choosing his words carefully.
“No, I didn’t see anyone other than Rousseau,” states Sayid.
“Rousseau?” repeats Chris. “That was her name?”
“Yes,” answers Sayid. “Danielle Rousseau.”
Chris looks away, lost in his thoughts. Sayid gives him a few moments to mull the fresh information over, then stands up.
“I better get back to the beach,” says Sayid. “I hope to see you there soon.”
Chris smiles as Sayid exits the caves. Chris stands up and heads back towards his corner of the caves, but stops when he notices Charlie sitting in silence nearby. Chris thinks hard for a minute, then walks over to the Englishman.
“Hello, Charlie,” says Chris. He sits down next to Charlie, who makes no signs of recognition that Chris is even there. “How…How are you feeling?”
Charlie continues to stare straight ahead of him, apparently ignoring Chris’ every word.
“You, er…You want a drink of water?” asks Chris, offering Charlie his bottle. Again, Charlie ignores him. “Look, Charlie, once Jack decides that my leg is healed properly, I’m going back out into that jungle to look for Claire. If there’s anything you can tell me about happened to you when…when Ethan took you, I’d really appreciate it.”
Charlie looks round at Chris, but remains silent.
“Look, I know you care about Claire, Charlie,” says Chris, careful to avoid sounding harsh or insensitive. “But you’re not the only one. And if you want her to be rescued, you’ve got to help us by telling us what you remember…”
“Us?” says Charlie at last. “Who’s us?”
“What?” asks a confused Chris.
“Who do you mean by ‘us’?” says Charlie. “Because I already told Jack that I don’t remember anything. If you’d spoke to him about this, you’d know that.” He pauses to look round at Chris again. “You just want to be the one that saves Claire. You want to act the hero.”
“Act the hero?” repeats Chris, shocked. “Where is that coming from? I just want to find Claire! And so what if I haven’t talked to Jack about this? I don’t need to report every little thing I do to him. Just like he doesn’t tell us everything he’s up to.”
Charlie gives him a disbelieving look. Chris, feeling very angry, is about to argue some more, but manages to control himself, and instead stands up and walks away, leaving Charlie alone once more. Back at his temporary living area, Chris slumps down to the cave floor and puts the headphones of Hurley’s CD player over his ears, turns on the player and listens to the music until he drifts off to sleep.

“There’s no pain at all? You’re sure?”
Jack is examining Chris’ leg once more.
“Sure as sugar,” Chris says unenthusiastically. Jack looks at him, then presses down on the place where the wound was on Chris’ leg. Chris genuinely cannot feel a thing, other than the gentle pressure of Jack’s thumbs, and Jack gathers this from the bored look on Chris’ face.
“Well, everything seems to be in working order,” says the doctor.
“So does that mean I can go back to the beach?” asks Chris. Jack nods.
“Even though it doesn’t hurt anymore, it’s probably best if you don’t try and do too much,” suggests Jack. “I mean, you’ll be fine walking around, but try and not run too much.”
“You got it,” says Chris, only half-paying attention as he gathers up his bag.
“It wouldn’t hurt if you went for a swim when you got back to the beach, either,” says Jack. “You know, just to loosen off after all the sitting around and everything.”
“Duly noted,” smiles Chris.
“And make sure you eat and drink enough,” adds Jack. “Keep your energy levels up. It’s almost noon right now, so it wouldn’t do you any harm to have some lunch here before you head off into the jungle. I went out and picked some fruit this morning, so help yourself.”
“Thanks, Jack,” says Chris.
“No problem,” replies Jack. He gets to his feet and turns to leave.
“Jack…” Chris shouts; Jack looks back round at him. “Sorry I haven’t been all that…grateful, these last couple of days. I was just so annoyed at having to sit around doing nothing. But I appreciate everything you did for me.”
Jack looks him in the eye and gives a nod of acknowledgement, before turning and walking away. Chris gets to his feet, rather shakily, and walks over to Hurley.
“Here you go, mate,” says Chris, holding out the CD player.
“Awesome, dude,” says Hurley, gratefully taking his beloved CD player from Chris. “So does that mean your leg’s better?”
“It sure does,” says Chris, smiling. “Listen, thanks for letting me borrow that. You’ve, er…You’ve opened my eyes to some music I never thought I’d ever listen to.”
“Glad I could help,” says Hurley, chuckling.
Chris smiles again, then turns and walks over to the fresh pile of fruit nearby. Chris treats himself to a banana and two starfruits, before gathering up his pack and leaving the caves. Finally, he was returning to the beach…

Chris walks through the jungle alone, humming to himself. He had a feeling some of the tunes he’d listened to on Hurley’s CD player would be stuck in his head for days. Chris takes a deep breath of fresh air, then laughs out loud; Nothing helped you appreciate freedom more than being stuck on an uncomfortable cave floor for two days straight. Still laughing, Chris quickens his pace into a light jog, thinking that the sooner he gets back to the beach, the better. Distracted by the thought of approaching Greg and asking him for his help, Chris doesn’t even notice a backpack lying abandoned on the jungle floor, and stumbles over it, though he manages to stay on his feet. Wondering what on earth the pack is doing there, Chris picks it up and examines one of the shoulder straps: It looks as though it has been chewed slightly. Chris then notices a tennis ball – which also looks chewed – lying right next to where the pack had been lying. Assuming that Vincent the dog must have dragged the pack out into the jungle, Chris unzips the bag and peers inside, shocked at what he finds.

Chris finally makes his return to the beach camp, striding over to his tent. Chris hastily throws both his own pack and the one he found in the jungle into his tent, then wastes no time in making for Greg’s tent.
“Greg!” Chris shouts loudly as he approaches the tent. “Hey, Greg!”
There is no answer. Finding it hard to believe that Greg is still asleep at this time in the afternoon, Chris quickly glances inside the tent (It is empty), then spins round to search for the Australian elsewhere. As Chris considers where he should start looking, someone walks towards him, calling his name.
“Chris! Chris!”
Chris looks round to see Rachel making her way towards him.
“Hey,” says Rachel upon reaching him.
“Hey,” replies Chris. “Have you seen…?”
“How’s your leg?” asks Rachel, cutting Chris off. “Boone said you’d hurt it.”
“That’s not important,” Chris says, waving his hand impatiently. “Listen, have you…”
“Not important?” interrupts Rachel. “You were told by the doctor that you had to stay off it for two days, were you not? I was really worried about you.”
“Oh, yeah?” asks Chris, raising his eyebrows. “You couldn’t have been that worried, or you’d have came up to see me at the caves.”
Rachel looks taken aback.
“Have you seen Greg?” Chris asks, before Rachel can respond to his previous comment.
Rachel, still looking hurt, stares at him for a few seconds before answering.
“The day after Claire was taken, he ran off into the jungle,” says Rachel coldly. “He’s been gone ever since.”
“What?” asks Chris, shocked, but Rachel turns and walks away from him. Chris feels slightly guilty about how he spoke to her, but there were much more pressing issues at hand; Claire is still out in the jungle, and Greg, who’s help is essential in Chris’ attempt to track Claire down, has been missing for almost three days. There was no point in Chris wandering out there without Greg, and it seemed very foolish for him to go out and try to find Greg himself – Unless they were very lucky, it was unlikely the two men would happen to cross paths in the middle of the jungle. The most sensible option – While maybe not the most active one at the moment – was to wait for Greg to return to the beach, then they could head out together. And in the meantime, Chris decides to follow Jack’s suggestion and go for a short swim to relax and loosen off…

The following day, Chris is sitting alone outside his tent, his head nodding as the bright sun beats down on him.
“Hey, man,” says someone nearby. Chris looks up to see Michael walking towards him, a bottle of water in his hands.
“Hey, Michael,” says Chris, smiling.
“Here, catch,” Michael says, throwing the bottle to Chris, who catches it.
“Oh, thanks,” Chris smiles. “I was actually gonna head up to the caves to get some more water soon…”
“Thought I’d save you the trouble,” says Michael, sitting down next to Chris.
“Thanks, Mike, I really appreciate it,” says Chris.
“No worries, man,” says Michael, as Chris unscrews the lid off the bottle and takes a drink of water. “How’s the leg?”
“Good, it’s good,” replies Chris. “A lot better than it was. I went swimming again this morning, just before lunchtime.”
“Glad to hear it’s healing,” Michael says. He pauses, clearly choosing his next words carefully. “So…have you, uh…Have you went back out into the jungle yet? You know, to look for Claire?”
Chris surveys Michael carefully.
“No, not yet,” Chris says, looking away.
“Oh…Why’s that?” asks Michael.
“Why are you asking me this, Michael?” Chris asks, rather taken aback. “Have YOU went back into the jungle to look for her yet?”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” Michael says quickly. “I know you care about Claire, man. I just thought you were maybe a little bit…wary of going back in there after the last time.”
Chris gives Michael a confused look.
“I don’t think I know what you’re…”
“Look, I don’t care what you say,” interrupts Michael. “I know you saw something out there, when you started creeping towards those voices, and I want to know what.”
Chris remains silent, thinking hard. Michael had asked him to go with him, unlike Jack, who had ordered him to stay behind. And this was the first time Michael had pressed the matter since the night Claire was taken, despite the fact he had been suspicious.
“OK, I did see something,” Chris says at long last. “I saw the two people that were talking.”
“What did they look like?” asks Michael.
“Well, one of them was a lot cleaner than the other,” Chris explains. “The clean one, it sounded like he was spying on someone, though I don’t know who. The other one was in really dirty clothes, and had a big b…”
“Spying on someone?” says Michael, interrupting Chris. “What, you mean like Ethan?”
“No, it wasn’t Ethan,” says Chris. “I’d never seen either of those men before. But the dirtier one – The guy that looked like he had been here a lot longer than 16 days - he kept asking about whether anyone suspected the other guy.”
“You sure you’ve never seen that guy before?” asks Michael.
“Positive,” replies Chris. “Besides, when the spy-person - Goodman I think his name was – when he was talking about the people he was spying on, he mentioned some names I’ve never heard in our camp. Nathan, I think, and…Bernie, or something like that. Anyway, the only name I recognised was when the other guy mentioned Ethan being sent by their leader.”
“So they know Ethan then?” asks Michael.
“That’s certainly what it looked like,” answers Chris.
“So I guess there are other people on this island, just like the Frenchwoman told Sayid,” observes Michael.
“So it would seem,” Chris says, rather flatly.
“Do you think they’re dangerous?” asks Michael.
“Well, since they abducted two people, left one of them for dead and beat up Jack, I’d say they probably are,” Chris says sarcastically. “Oh, and just in case you’re wondering, the fact I heard those people isn’t why I haven’t went back out to look for Claire.”
“I didn’t say it was,” Michael says defensively.
“Maybe not, but you were thinking it,” Chris retorts.
“Well, then, why haven’t you went back out?” asks Michael.
“Because I’m waiting for Greg to return from his own little rescue attempt,” explains Chris. “Then we’re going back out together.”
“I’m coming with you, too,” Michael says at once.
“No, you can’t,” says Chris.
“What?!” Michael asks in shock. “Why the hell not? You didn’t like it when Jack told you that you couldn’t go, but it’s OK for you to…”
“If something happened to you when we were out there…” Chris cuts in. “If we ran into Ethan, or those men, and something happened to you, who would look after Walt?”
Michael stares at him, but does not answer.
“You have to stay because you have a son to look after,” explains Chris. “And I have to wait for Greg, then go back out there and look for Claire.”
“Well, I don’t think you’ll have much longer to wait,” Michael says, looking at something further down the beach. Chris follows his gaze to see Greg staggering over to his tent and collapsing inside.

Greg searches through his tent for some water, but finds nothing but empty bottles.
“Damn it,” Greg mutters under his breath.
“Here you go, mate,” says Chris, walking over to Greg and throwing him the bottle of water Michael gave him. Greg drinks deeply from the water, then stares up into the smiling face of Chris.
“So you’re talking to me again, then, huh?” Greg asks coldly.
“Sure am,” says Chris, still smiling. “I’ve got another present for you, too.”
Greg looks at him, confused. Chris takes off his pack and drops it onto the ground in front of Greg, who immediately recognises it as his own bag.
“Where did you…?” starts Greg, staring at the pack in shock.
“I found it out in the jungle,” explains Chris. “About a mile from here. Seems the dog had it all along.”
Greg opens the pack and peers at the rotting fruit inside. Screwing up his face, Greg looks up at Chris, who is still smiling widely.
“What are you so happy about?” Greg demands. “You do know Claire is still out there, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I guessed as much when you came back empty-handed and in the foulest mood I’ve seen anyone in since the day of the crash,” says Chris. “So, did you find anything?”
“Nothing,” Greg says grumpily. “Unless, of course, you count a dead bird and a boar’s wallow as something worth finding. Apart from that, nothing.”
“Yes, well, we noticed there wasn’t much of a trail to follow either,” says Chris, in a tone one might use when merely commenting on the weather.
“What is wrong with you?” says Greg, getting steadily more aggravated by Chris’ nonchalant mood. “That psycho abducted Claire! You’d think Claire had just nipped out to get her hair done, the way you’re acting! You don’t even seem that concerned!”
“I’m not concerned,” Chris says simply. Greg leaps to his feet, looking very much like he wants to hit Chris. “I’m not concerned, because tomorrow, you and I are going back out into that jungle. And when we do, we’re going to find a way to rescue Claire. So get something to eat and drink, then get a good night’s sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
And with that, Chris turns and walks back to his tent, Greg watching him in a mixture of shock and confusion.

Chris wakes up the following morning to the sound of crashing waves and concerned voices. Rubbing his eyes, Chris gets to his feet and pops his head out his tent to see that the sea is a lot closer than it has previously been.
“What the…?” Chris mutters to himself, waking forward. Chris spots Richard rushing past him, carrying a suitcase, and stops him as he passes. “Hey, Richard, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” replies Richard. “The tide is coming in, all of a sudden.”
Chris looks around him to see most of the survivors moving things up the beach, closer to the edge of the jungle. He spots Greg a short distance away, frantically trying to stop his belongings being washed out to sea. Chris holds back his laughter at the slightly amusing sight of Greg chasing after an escaping suitcase, and runs forward to help.
“Son of a bitch!” shouts Greg, catching the case and lifting it up to see it is soaked all over.
“Need a hand?” asks Chris, grabbing one of Greg’s shirts as it floats past.
“Thanks, mate,” Greg says gratefully. He and Chris proceed to carry all of his belongings up to a higher point on the beach. As Chris scoops up a pair of drenched shoes, he almost bumps into Sayid, who is helping Jack with some suitcases. The Iraqi continues his conversation with Jack as if he had not came close to colliding with one of his fellow survivors.
“Everything is getting washed out to sea!” Sayid says loudly. “This can’t be normal. The tide shifting so suddenly. Rising in so short a time.”
“There’s a lot not normal around here,” notes Jack. “At the rate this beach is eroding, the fuselage is going to be underwater in a matter of days. We need to get all this stuff off the beach before nightfall.”
“I just hope that moving up the coast will make a difference,” says Sayid.
“It’d make a difference if everybody moved inland,” suggests Jack.
“I think you’ll find people slightly wary of entering the jungle, after what happened to the pregnant girl, not to mention whatever that thing is,” Sayid retorts. This is the last Chris hears of their conversation, because at that moment there is a cry from behind him.
“Argh! Damn it!” shouts a man’s voice, followed by a loud splash. Chris spins round to see Greg lying on his back in the water, apparently having been swept off his feet by a large wave. This time, Chris cannot contain his amusement, and gives a wide smile.
“You OK, there, Greg?” asks Chris. “Nothing like a nice early-morning swim, eh?”
“Haha, very funny,” Greg mutters sarcastically. “I don’t see why you’re smiling. Need I remind you that Claire’s still out there with that psycho?”
Chris’ smile vanishes.
“I know,” Chris says seriously. “And we’re going to get her back as soon as you’ve changed into dry clothes.”

Greg stands looking down at his belongings, which are now lying next to Chris’ tent, which has so far managed to escape the flooding. Chris watches on, as Greg searches hopelessly through his clothes, which are all as sopping wet as he himself is.
“Look, I can lend you some clothes until your stuff dries out,” Chris offers. Greg looks at him, still rather annoyed that Chris found his situation funny.

In the end, Greg decides that having a dry change of clothes was more important than his dignity right now, and agrees to borrow some clothes from Chris.
While waiting for Greg to get changed, Chris packs some water into his bag and slings it over his shoulder. He looks around at the people still working together to move the camp up the beach, before his eyes fall on Boone and Shannon, who, he is not surprised to see, are arguing.
“Yeah, well, at least I’m doing something,” Boone says. “Don’t you see the way they look at us around here? They don’t take us seriously. We’re a joke. I’m trying to contribute something. And you’re just…you’re useless.”
Chris watches Boone walk off, leaving Shannon looking close to tears, but before he can even begin to enquire what’s going on, Greg reappears, dry once more.
“You ready to go?” the Australian asks, still sounding a little annoyed.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” answers Chris. He gives a smile, which Greg does not return, and then leads the way into the jungle.

Chris leads the way through the jungle, his stride filled with confidence, as Greg struggles to keep up with him.
“How about…” begins Greg, panting. “How about we have a break?”
Chris stops and looks round at the Australian.
“Sure, we can have a break,” smiles Chris, taking off his pack and dropping it to the ground. Greg sits down on the jungle floor and pulls out a bottle of water. “I thought you were supposed to be fit?”
Greg takes a deep drink from the bottle, then looks up at Chris.
“I am,” says Greg. “But, in case you’ve forgotten, I spent four days out here looking for Claire. I don’t know if you’ve tried it, but sleeping on the jungle floor isn’t exactly the most comfortable, especially when you’re half-expecting a monster to pop out the trees and eat you.”
Chris smiles, then takes a drink of water himself.
“And what should have been a nice refreshing sleep back in my tent,” continues Greg. “Was cut short when the ocean decided to move right up to my doorstep.”
“Well, it looks like you’re going to be sleeping out here again tonight,” says Chris, looking up at the sky. “I’d say we’ve got just over an hour of sunlight left, two at a push. We’ll have to stop and make camp for the night. If we keep wandering through the trees in the dark, we’ll end up getting lost.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re already lost, mate,” says Greg. Chris stares at him. “I don’t think any of us expected to go 21 days and still not be found by someone.”
“There’s still a chance of rescue, Greg,” says Chris. “Don’t give up hope yet.”
“Hope?” scoffs Greg. “All hope is long gone here, mate. Now you can kid all you want that you still believe we might get off this island, but I know deep down you know just as much as I do that we’re never leaving this place.”
Chris stares at him in silence for a few seconds, then clears his throat.
“It’s only been 21 days,” says Chris. “And you’ve spent half that time being mad at me, and the rest ignoring me. You don’t know me, Greg, and you certainly don’t know what I’m feeling. I said we might make it off this island yet, and I meant it. Now let’s get going while it’s still light.”
Chris slings his pack over his shoulder and waits for Greg to do the same, before turning to lead the way through the jungle once more.

After an hour or so of walking, Chris and Greg stop to make camp for the night, as the sky above them begins to darken. Chris gathers up firewood, maintaining the silence that had filled the past hour. Eventually, as Greg kindles a flame on the heap of wood, Chris talks again.
“You, er…” begins Chris, his voice slightly croaked from lack of use. “You should get some sleep first. I’ll stay awake, you know, keep watch.”
“Right, thanks,” says Greg, lying down next to his pack and shifting himself into a more comfortable position. “Wake me halfway through, so you can get some sleep too.”
“Will do,” says Chris flatly. He watches Greg drift off into sleep, then turns to stare into the small campfire, thinking to himself. Was bringing Greg out here really going to help him find Claire? What if the dream he had was nothing more than that, a dream? Had he led Greg out into the potentially dangerous jungle in an attempt to follow the guiding of something that bore no significance whatsoever to Claire’s rescue? Five days ago, when he first remembered the dream, it all seemed to make sense, and he hadn’t questioned his original belief. But now, the more and more he thought about it, the more foolish it seemed that he had taken the dream to have any particular meaning. Perhaps tomorrow he should lead Greg back to the beach and they could work out a better (And much more reliable) plan from there…

Despite having promised Greg he would stay awake and keep watch, Chris feels his eyelids droop and, unable to resist any longer, falls asleep. When he awakes, the sun has already risen and Greg is nowhere to be seen. Chris slowly gets to his feet and follows the trail of bent and trodden grass deeper into the jungle. After a solid fifteen minutes’ walking, Chris finally hears footsteps up ahead, and quickens his pace. Bursting through a thicket of bushes, Chris finds someone: Not Greg, but Claire.
“Claire!” Chris shouts in a mixture of surprise and relief. “Claire, are you OK?”
“I’m counting on you, Chris,” Claire says, her face straight.
“What? Counting on me for what?” asks a confused Chris.
“Don’t give up,” says Claire. “You were right to come out here. Don’t give up.”
Chris barely has time to register Claire’s words, when a large net shoots up from the jungle floor, trapping Claire and pulling her up into the trees.
“Claire!” screams Chris, staring after her.

Chris grunts and springs awake. It had been a dream. Just a dream. But it had seemed so real. Chris looks round to see that it is still dark, Greg is still sound asleep and the fire is still crackling away. Drenched in sweat, Chris leans over to his pack and pulls out a bottle of water and splashes his face with it. Feeling suddenly awake, Chris resumes his position as sentry, though this time he has no trouble whatsoever evading sleep.

Greg awakes to see the sun has risen, and the campfire is nothing more than dying embers. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and looks around to see that Chris is nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, as if drawn by Greg’s thoughts, Chris strides over to him, looking as cheerful as ever.
“Morning,” says Chris, smiling widely. “Have a good sleep?”
“Uh, yeah,” replies Greg, slightly groggily. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Mate, this is our 22nd day on the island,” says Chris. “Personally, I’ve given up on things like timekeeping. I don’t know if you’re still getting up at the same time everyday, but I wake up when I wake up. Besides, I left my alarm clock back at my tent. Don’t worry if you overslept.”
“No, no, no,” mumbles Greg, both confused and alarmed at Chris’ cheerful mood. “I mean, why didn’t you wake me halfway through the night? I thought we were supposed to be taking shifts about.”
“Oh, right,” says Chris. “I wasn’t all that tired. I thought you needed the sleep more than I did – since I’ve literally done nothing for the past five days – so I didn’t mind letting you sleep right through. So, how about some breakfast? I’ve got papayas, freshly picked.”
Greg pinches himself to make sure he isn’t dreaming, then agrees to some breakfast.
“What’s with all the…happiness?” asks Greg.
“What do you mean?” says Chris.
“Well, the last time I checked, we were still stranded on this island, we had just found out there might be a tribe of natives on the island, and Claire was still missing,” says Greg. “I don’t see much to smile about.”
“True enough,” nods Chris. “But haven’t you ever just got up at the start of a new day and knew that it was going to be a good day?”
“Yeah, I get that sometimes,” says Greg. “I usually call those days Christmas.”
Chris chuckles.
“Yes, well, as excited as I invariably get about celebrating the birth of Christ by eating vast amounts of turkey, that wasn’t quite what I was talking about,” says Chris, still chuckling. “Besides, if all goes well, the last of those three…‘problems’ won’t be a problem for much longer.”
“What?” Greg asks confusedly.
“With any luck, Claire won’t be missing for much longer,” explains Chris. “Come on, let’s get going.”
Chris stands up, packs his belongings back into his bag and hitches it over his shoulder. Greg stares at him in shock for a few seconds, then does the same. Chris splashes some water over the ashy remains of their fire, then leads his companion off into the mysterious jungle once more.

Several hours later, Greg is still following Chris, who is walking through the jungle with a spring in his step, humming merrily to himself.
“OK, seriously, what’s going on?” asks Greg.
“What?” Chris asks defensively. “Why have you got such a problem with me being happy?”
“I don’t have a problem,” counters Greg. “But there’s happy, and then there’s just plain weird. Did you eat one of those weird mushrooms Hurley found?”
“What weird mushrooms?” laughs Chris.
“Never mind,” says Greg. “But something’s not right with you. We’re risking our lives, coming out here to try and rescue Claire from some murderous, island-dwelling lunatic, and you’re acting like we’re going on a trip to the zoo or something.”
“Greg, I’m perfectly aware of the danger we’re putting ourselves in,” says Chris. “I just think that this time we’re going to find Claire.”
“And what makes you think that?” asks Greg.
“Because with the right motivation, you can find anybody,” says Chris wisely.
“Yeah, well, be that as it may,” says Greg. “The right motivation is only going to get us so far. You think that wandering in a straight line through the jungle is going to find Claire just because we want to find her?”
“No, that would be silly,” says Chris. “Besides, we’re not walking in any old line through the jungle.”
“Well, then do you mind telling me what the hell it is that we’re following?” asks Greg impatiently. “Because I haven’t seen any sign of a trail since we set out this morning. It looks to me like we’ve been walking for the last five hours following nothing but your gut instinct.”
Chris stops and looks round at Greg.
“You really want to know what I’m following?” asks Chris. “You want to know why I dragged you – and only you – out here into the jungle? You want to know why I feel so confident about finding Claire?”
“Yeah, that would be lovely,” says Greg sarcastically.
“Before Claire was taken,” begins Chris. “Before we found out that Ethan wasn’t on the plane…Before any of this madness took place…I had a dream. And in this dream, I was looking for Claire. And you helped me. You were with me in that dream, and with your help, I found Claire.”
“Wait, all this is because of some dream you had?” asks Greg.
“It was no ordinary dream,” states Chris. “I couldn’t remember it straight away. You know, right after I had it. It was only after me and Michael came back empty-handed after looking for Claire that I remembered anything about it. It was only when we were running out of ideas that I remembered that, in this dream, you had helped me find Claire. So I waited for you to get back, knowing that neither of us would find Claire without the other’s help, and I brought you out here.”
“So, all this time, you’ve been following the contents of a dream?” asks Greg, in a tone suggesting he believed Chris was nothing short of crazy.
“I know it sounds pretty farfetched,” admits Chris. “Last night, I even doubted whether it had been wise to believe the dream myself. Then, when I dozed off for fifteen minutes by the fire, I had another dream. In this one, I followed a track into the jungle and found Claire. She told me that I shouldn’t give up. That I was right to come out here. Right when I was doubting my actions, I have another dream telling me not to give up. That can’t be just coincidence.”
“Oh yes, it can,” scoffs Greg. “They’re just dreams, Chris. And that still doesn’t explain how you know where you’re going…”
“This morning, when I led you into this jungle,” says Chris. “I followed the path that led me to Claire in the dream I had last night.”
“So every single detail of this rescue attempt has been based on the products of your subconscious?” asks Greg, now beside himself. “That’s it, I’m going back.”
“No, Greg, wait…” says Chris, as Greg turns his back on him.
“It takes more than just determination to find someone, Chris,” says Greg, walking away.

In flashback, Chris is standing in line at a post office. As Chris’ eyes wander around his surroundings, he notices something odd about the man in line in front of him: The man’s right arm appears to be fake. Just as Chris is taking in this detail, the man – who is dressed in simple and casual clothes, and looks like he could be a farmer – jumps out of the line and rushes over to a poster on a nearby wall. Chris, curious by the man’s peculiar behaviour, watches him stare at what seems to be a poster for an escaped convict, offering a $23,000 reward for handing over the fugitive.
“Oh, Annie…” the farmer man mutters to himself, before turning on his heel and storming out the post office. Chris turns to watch him leave, and spots a man standing by the door, watching him. Chris stares at the man, whose face is covered by his hat and sunglasses, then turns back to face the front again. Chris’ stomach gives a horrible lurch; Something tells him this man isn’t here to bring him good news. Deciding that the sooner he gets out of the shop, the better, Chris turns and heads for the door, avoiding looking at the mysterious man. The man twitches uncomfortably as Chris approaches, but otherwise makes no movement. Chris rushes right past him, and heads straight for his car. Chris is about to get into his car when a man’s voice – the accent Scottish – sounds out from behind him.
“Excuse me,” says the voice. Chris looks round to see the man with the sunglasses walking towards him, then turns back to his car. “Excuse me,” the man says again. Chris looks round, trying to arrange the expression on his face into one of calm disinterest.
“Can I help you?” Chris says, rather more accusingly than was probably wise. The man looks taken aback for a second, but quickly regains his firm tone.
“Are you Chris Murray?” the man asks. He takes off his sunglasses and Chris recognises his face, though it has been years since he last laid eyes on the man.
“I am,” Chris replies, trying to keep his voice steady.
“You need to come with me,” says the man. “I need to talk to you.”
“No, I don’t think you do,” says Chris, turning back to his car once more. Quick as a flash, the man pulls a handgun from his pocket and brings the butt of it down heavily on the back of Chris’ head. Chris falls to the ground, drifting out of consciousness.

Chris wakes up to find himself tied to a chair in what looks like an abandoned warehouse. The wound on the back of his head throbs painfully, as he looks around the deserted room.
“Ah, you’re awake,” says a voice from behind Chris. The man Chris encountered at the petrol station slowly comes into view. “Do you remember me, Chris Murray?”
“What, you mean apart from when you hit me on the back of the head?” Chris asks bitterly. The man smiles. “Yes, I remember you, Adam.”
Adam’s smile broadens.
“Good,” says Adam. “Then I suppose you can guess why I’m in Australia?”
“He sent you, didn’t he?” Chris asks. “Matt sent you.”
“That’s right,” Adam smiles, pleased that Chris is grasping the situation so well.
“Why?” Chris enquires. “He said he was sending me here so I was out of his way. Why did he send you?”
“Because it turns out you might be of use to him after all,” says Adam, looking as though he somewhat doubted Chris’ value. “He thinks he may have finally tracked down Jordan.”
“So what’s that got to do with me?” asks Chris.
“Everything,” says Adam. “You see, it appears that you played a part in Jordan’s fleeing of Scotland. Am I right?”
Chris remains silent, which Adam takes to mean ‘yes’.
“Well, when Matt found this out, he wasn’t best pleased,” Adam continues. “But now he has a rough idea where that coward, Jordan, is, he wants you to go and find him, then bring him back to Scotland.”
“How the hell am I supposed to find him?” Chris asks.
“With the right…motivation, you can find anybody, Chris,” Adam says wisely.
“The right ‘motivation’?” asks Chris. “What’s that supposed to…”
“Do you remember Matt saying that if you ever returned to Scotland, he would kill your family?” asks Adam. Chris gives a small nod. “Well, the situation has changed. If you don’t find Jordan, and bring him back to Scotland, then he’ll kill your family.”
Chris stares up into the cold eyes of his captor for a few seconds, then looks down at the floor.
“No deal,” Chris says quietly.
“Excuse me?” Adam asks, shocked.
“That son of a bitch made me give up my life six months ago,” says Chris. “Once I moved out here, I didn’t have a family anymore. Besides, they’re probably already dead.”
“They’re not dead, Chris,” claims Adam.
“Yeah, and I’m supposed to take your word?” Chris asks.
“I’m not a liar, Chris,” says Adam angrily. “Your family are all alive and well…”
“I said no deal,” Chris says, looking down at the floor. “So untie me, and let me go. Right now.”
Rather reluctantly, Adam moves forward and cuts the bonds round Chris’ wrists and ankles.
“You’re making a big mistake, Chris,” Adam says, as Chris heads for the door of the warehouse.
“No, Adam,” replies Chris. “I’m done making mistakes.”

Back on the island, Chris is still trying to persuade Greg out of heading back to camp.
“Listen to me, Greg,” says Chris, jogging after him. “I have made some mistakes in my lifetime, but following this dream was not one of them.”
“I’ve made some mistakes, too, Chris,” says Greg, looking straight ahead of him as he walks. “And listening to you was definitely one of them.”
“How can you say that?” asks Chris. “If it wasn’t for me, you would have killed Sawyer as punishment for a crime he didn’t commit, and that blood would have been on your hands…”
“You only stopped me from doing that because you would have felt guilty if you’d let me,” shouts Greg.
“Oh, so you don’t care if you kill an innocent man then?” asks Chris.
“I hardly think Sawyer counts as an innocent man,” smirks Greg.
“Maybe not, but I heard about you in Sydney,” says Chris. “I heard stories of some head-case cop that went around shooting criminals here, there and everywhere, and asking questions later…”
Suddenly, Greg turns round, grabs Chris and slams him against a tree, pulling out a handgun and holding it against his head.
“I swear, one more word, and I’ll do it,” Greg says through gritted teeth.
“Is that so?” asks Chris, only a shadow of fear crossing his face. Greg stares him in the eye for almost a minute, then lets go.
“How do you know I was the cop you heard the stories about?” asks Greg.
“I didn’t,” admits Chris. “Though you just confirmed it yourself.”
Greg glares at Chris, but lowers the gun.
“Is that the gun from the skeleton we found?” asks Chris, eyeing the weapon.
“Yeah,” says Greg, still breathing heavily from the tense encounter moments before. “I still haven’t found my guns. Neither mine’s nor my father’s.”
Chris opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by a loud rustling in the bushes nearby. Chris and Greg stare at each other in shock. Greg raises the gun again, pointing it ahead of him, and slowly creeps towards the rustling. Chris stops to think for a second, then follows Greg. As Greg makes his way towards the bushes, there is a small clicking noise, and a net, lying on the jungle floor, concealed by dirt and fallen leaves, shoots upwards, trapping Greg inside. As Greg is pulled upwards, inside the net, the gun falls from his hand and goes off by itself; A bullet whooshes past Chris’s left ear, missing him by millimetres.
“Greg! Are you OK?” shouts Chris, running forward and examining the net, which is hanging from a thick branch of the nearest tree. Chris bends down to pick up the gun, but when he straightens up again, it is to find Greg looking the most frightened Chris has ever seen him.
“What’s wrong?” asks Chris, concerned; The look of sheer terror on Greg’s face was enough to alarm anyone.
Greg, his eyes wide in both shock and fear, gasps something that sounds very much like, “Bine dew.”
“What?” asks Chris, not understanding.
“Bine dew,” Greg says again. Chris shakes his head to indicate he still doesn’t understand, and Greg gathers himself, trying to keep his voice calm. This time, Chris manages to make out what Greg is saying: “Behind you.”
Chris doesn’t have enough time to even begin to turn around when he hears a small clicking noise, and feels the barrel of a gun being pressed against the back of his head…

_________________
#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

Last edited by Sawbucks on Thu Mar 20, 2008 4:21 pm; edited 2 times in total

Nice episode Sawbucks, very long but all worth it.

_________________
"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Yes, I'm sorry it was so long. I just had so much to cover in the one episode, lol!

_________________
#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

No worries, i thought it was great.

_________________
"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Well, it has been a ridiculously long time since I last posted an "episode", but after my extended hiatus, I have finally got back to the fanfics. I had actually written part of this instalment before my break, and have just recently gone back and finished it off. So, without further ado, here is the next episode of Lost, Sawbucks style:

HEARTS AND MINDS

In flashback, Chris is sitting at the bar in a very crowded pub. Being nudged back and forth by the excited crowd swarming round the bar, Chris rises from his feet, leans over the alcohol-soaked counter and catches the attention of a passing bartender.
“Hey, mate, can I have a drink?” Chris says loudly. The bartender, who seems disgruntled by the screaming girls surrounding the bar, nods his head.
“What can I get you?” asks the bartender, ignoring the wave of complaints now flowing from the people still waiting to be served. His accent is English.
“Just a pint of lager, please,” says Chris, his voice louder still. The barman bustles off to pour Chris’ drink. As Chris stares absent-mindedly at the various bottles lining the back wall, an attractive barmaid walks over to him.
“Can I get you anything?” asks the barmaid. Chris snaps to his senses and looks her in the eye, immediately taking in her stunning features.
“No, thanks, I’m being served,” says Chris, smiling. For a split-second the barmaid looks rather disappointed, but she quickly rearranges the expression on her face to a wide smile.
“Well, my shift ends in ten minutes, so why don’t you go and find a table, and maybe I’ll come join you afterwards?” asks the barmaid, giving Chris a suggestive look.
“Sounds good,” smiles Chris, as the barman returns with his drink.

Chris has managed to find a table in the busy pub, and is sitting sipping contentedly on his lager when the barmaid joins him, a drink in her hand.
“Oh, I’m so glad I don’t have to work tonight,” says the barmaid, sitting down in the empty seat next to Chris. “I’d never have got a moment’s peace.”
Chris looks up at the bar, which is as crowded as ever, then examines the other tables located around the pub, almost all of which are occupied.
“This is the busiest I’ve ever seen this place,” notes Chris. “What’s the occasion?”
“Oh, there’s some live music later on,” answers the barmaid. “A band from Manchester.” She nods her head towards the stage at the end of the pub; Chris looks over to see the members of the band setting up their equipment.
“Live music? Great,” Chris says unenthusiastically.
“They’re actually supposed to be quite good,” says the barmaid. “I hear they’ve got quite a following back in Manchester, though I think this is their first gig in London.”
Chris purses his lips, trying hard not to speak his mind.
“OK, I know you’re not into live music and gigs and everything…” begins the barmaid.
“Yeah, that’s right, I’m not,” says Chris, flatly. “If I’d known all this was going on tonight, I never would have come.”
“And that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you,” presses the barmaid. “I wanted to see you tonight, Chris. I really like you.”
Chris looks into her eyes, clearly thinking of something to say.
“And I like you too, Karen, but we could have gone some place else.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” says Karen. “I just thought I’d try and change your opinion on music.”
Chris scoffs loudly. “It’ll take more than bloody…” he looks up at the stage again, where a large banner has been draped on the wall behind the preparing band. “…‘Drive Shaft’ to change my opinion.”
“Well, it’s a start,” smiles Karen. “Besides, I wanted to see them too. I hear Liam, the lead singer, is kind of cute.”
“Oh, well, now I’m convinced,” says Chris sarcastically. Karen laughs.
“So does that mean you’ll stay?” asks Karen. “For me?”
“All right, I’ll stay for you,” smiles Chris. “But first I’m going to nip outside for a fag.”
“I thought you were trying to quit smoking?” asks Karen, raising her eyebrows in suspicion.
“I am,” replies Chris simply. “But something tells me I’m going to need one to get me through this. Honestly, of all the nights I could have chosen to go out for a quiet drink…”
Karen smiles and kisses Chris on the cheek as he gets up to leave. As he makes his way towards the door, a voice issues out over the loudspeakers set up next to the stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” the voice cries enthusiastically. Chris looks over to the stage to see a man standing before a microphone, the four members of Drive Shaft just behind him. “Tonight, we are very proud to welcome a band that is taking Manchester by storm. It’s their first gig here in the capital city, so let’s give a big London round-of-applause for…DRIVE SHAFT!”
The man jumps down from the stage as the members of the band move into place. As a guitar introduction begins to sound over the speakers, Chris turns his back on the stage – and the gathering crowd of ecstatic fans jumping wildly in front of it – and continues towards the door. He passes a pair of surly-looking bouncers standing either side of the door, both of whom give him a curious, surveying look, just as one of the band members starts to sing.
“You all everybody, You all everybody…”
Chris bursts out through the doors into the crisp London night, glad to leave the music and the screaming fans inside. Chris pulls out a cigarette pack and a lighter from his pocket, withdraws a cigarette and lights it. Taking a long drag, he returns the pack and lighter to his pocket, leans back against the wall and lets out a large sigh.
‘So much for quitting,’ Chris thinks to himself. A sudden rush of disappointment sweeps over him, as the image of Karen’s suspecting expression swims before his eyes. Chris closes his eyes, the disappointment now turning into anger. He has let Karen down. He has let himself down. He is weak. Crushing the barely smoked cigarette against the wall, he turns to re-enter the pub. He is just about to push open the door, however, when something catches his eye from across the street; Trouble seems to be breaking out, as a group of at least three rough-looking individuals push and jeer a black man. Chris, watching this, is in half a mind to go over and sort out the problem – Even turning away from the door of the pub and taking a few steps towards the group – when it hits him that he has enough on his plate, without going around looking for other people’s problems to solve, too. Tearing his gaze away from the ensuing struggle between the thugs and their victim, feigning deafness against the man’s cries for help, Chris slowly turns back towards the door and enters the pub.
‘I’m not a hero,’ Chris thinks to himself. ‘It’s time I stopped pretending to be one…’

On the island, Chris stands frozen, the cold gun barrel still being held against the back of his head. Chris stares into the frightened face of Greg, who stares right back. Finally, after several tense moments of silence, the voice of a woman talks from just behind Chris.
“Drop the gun,” says the woman. Chris, both paralysed with fear and less than willing to toss aside his most effective means of defence, continues to clench the handgun in his sweaty palm.
“I said drop the gun,” the woman says again, this time more forcefully. Chris closes his eyes, thinking hard – How the hell can he get out of this mess? Greg, while physically stronger than Chris, is nothing short of useless while trapped and suspended in a net. Chris, despite being in possession of a gun, not to mention having a knife tucked into his belt, would be shot dead long before he could even turn to see what he was aiming for should he decide to attack. Unable to think of any other way in which he and Greg would even have the remotest chance of escaping the situation alive, Chris holds out his shaking hand, and lets the gun drop to the jungle floor.
Apparently satisfied with his actions, the woman removes the gun from the back of Chris’ head. Relief sweeping over him, Chris opens his eyes to see Greg looking as concerned as ever. Chris opens his mouth to speak, but has not even begun making a noise when he feels the sharp, excruciating pain of something metal colliding with the back of his head at high velocity. Chris groans in pain as he collapses forward, falling into darkness…

When Chris regains consciousness, it takes him several seconds to think why he is lying on the ground, his face in the rough, cold earth, and why there is a throbbing pain issuing from the back of his head. Then, his senses catching up with him, he opens his eyes and lifts his head a couple of inches from the ground to take in his surroundings. He is still in the jungle, lying alone in a small clearing. It is not the same place as where Greg was trapped in the net, but it can’t be too far from there; Looking around, Chris notices that the vegetation is similar, particularly the large bushes in which he heard the rustling noises just before he was knocked out. It is only now that Chris realises that his hands are tied behind his back. Struggling up into a kneeling position, Chris looks back over his shoulder to discover that his feet are also bound tightly together. It is not until he hears a small rustling of movement nearby that Chris realises he is not alone after all. Spinning his head around, Chris finds the source of the noise: A woman is leaning against a tree, watching him, her clothes so dull and faded that Chris isn’t entirely surprised that he didn’t notice her straight away. Chris’ eyes are immediately drawn to the rifle in her hands, and the specks of dried blood on its butt; So that was what the woman used to knock him out…
The woman takes several wary steps towards Chris, pointing the rifle at his chest, and Chris looks up into her face for the first time; Her features are arranged in an expression of curiosity, more than fear, and her blue eyes are surveying Chris up and down, as though x-raying him.
“Who are you?” asks the woman at long last. Her accent is foreign. As Chris stares into the woman’s blue eyes, his mind races; Could this woman be who he thinks she is? Chris continues to look at the woman in silence, and she imitates him for several moments, before opening her mouth to speak again.
“Who are you?”
Weighing up his options, Chris decides that keeping quiet much longer would only arouse suspicion about his identity – It isn’t worth the risk.
“Who are-?”
“My name is Chris Murray,” says Chris loudly, cutting across the woman’s question. “I’m from Scotland. I was a passenger on Oceanic Flight 815. We crashed here 22 days ago.”
The woman surveys Chris up and down several times, perhaps hoping to notice an involuntary shudder that might suggest Chris was lying. Chris gives the woman a couple of seconds to organise her thoughts, then presses on.
“There were 48 of us survived the crash,” continues Chris. “Two have died since then. The first, a man heavily injured in the crash. He succumbed on our third day on the island. The second…” - His voice falters slightly – “…was a woman. She drowned on the sixth day. On our tenth day, another man was almost killed. The person responsible left our camp out of shame. He returned to the camp six days later. He’s from Iraq. Goes by the name of Sayid. And somewhere along those six days he spent walking, he ran into you, didn’t he…Danielle?”
The look on the woman’s face at the mention of her name was more than enough to tell Chris he had guessed right. This woman holding him captive is none other than the Frenchwoman Sayid had encountered during his travels; the one that has been on the island for 16 years…
“So, now that we’ve got that out of the way…” says Chris, interrupting Danielle’s thoughts of shock. “How about you untie me?”
Danielle looks down into his eyes, then slowly turns her back on him.
“I do not think that’s a good idea,” Danielle says quietly.
“What?” chokes Chris. “But…You know who I am. You know I’m not a threat to you. You know…”
“All I know,” begins Danielle, and Chris breaks off mid-sentence, “is that you were on the same plane as a man I held captive. I do not know anything about you. I do not know if you are a threat to me. Last night, just before I knocked you out, I was almost killed by a stray bullet fired from your companion’s gun. There is every chance you could be a threat to me without even realising it.”
“Wait a minute…” says Chris, frowning. “Did you say ‘last night’ when you knocked me out?”
“Yes,” replies Danielle, giving a small nod. “I injected you with a sedative to keep you inactive while I was tying you up. By the time I was finished, it was already dark. I decided to wait until morning to talk to you, so I gave you some more of the sedative. Enough to last through the night.”
At her words, Chris feels a shiver run down his spine; he doesn’t much like the idea that he had just lost more than half a day without realising it.
“Well, I guess that means this is actually my 23rd day on the island, then,” says Chris, rather bitterly. He looks around him, spotting his pack lying against a nearby tree. Sitting next to the pack is the knife Locke had leant him, still in its sheath, and the handgun he had been forced to drop whilst being held at gunpoint the night before.
“Wait a minute,” says Chris, the sight of the handgun setting his temporarily numb brain into motion again. “Where’s Greg? The man I was with?”
Danielle gives him a quick glance, before looking away into the jungle.
“Your friend is still in the net,” says Danielle.
“You mean he’s been in there all night?” asks a sceptical Chris.
“That’s right,” replies Danielle. Chris’ nostrils flare ever so slightly as he starts to think that this woman might be a nastier piece of work than he had initially thought.
“Why didn’t you cut him down and tie him up as well?” asks Chris slightly awkwardly; It feels rather odd to be making suggestions about how to take people captive to a woman who has knocked him out, tied him up and is now aiming a rifle at him.
“Your friend is heavier than you are,” says Danielle. “It was a lot easier to leave him in the net than to tie him up.” She pauses, looking almost surprised that she has just explained herself to Chris. Gripping the rifle tighter, she presses on slightly more urgently. “Why are you out here?”
“What?” asks Chris, slightly taken aback. From the tone in her voice, she might have been addressing an escaped mass murderer she had just discovered climbing through her kitchen window in the dead of night.
“Why are you out here?” repeats Danielle.
“I’m looking for someone,” replies Chris.
“Looking for someone?” asks Danielle. “Who?”
“One of the people from the plane,” says Chris. “An Australian girl, Claire. She’s pregnant. She was taken by them…The Others.”
Danielle lowers her rifle, a look of shock forming on her face.
“She was taken?” repeats Danielle quietly. “She was pregnant…and they took her?”
Chris gives a confused nod. Why is this information affecting her so much? Danielle turns away from him, leans her rifle against a tree, turns back to face Chris and lowers herself to a crouch in front of him. He is shocked to see that there are tears welling in her eyes.
“Are you…” begins Chris uneasily. “Are you alright?”
Danielle takes a few deep breaths, then nods, perhaps more to herself than Chris.
“Did Sayid tell you how long I have been on this island?” asks Danielle at last.
“Sixteen years,” answers Chris. “He heard your distress call…”
“Yes, sixteen years,” says Danielle, and Chris falls silent. “Sixteen years. When I first arrived here…I was pregnant.”
Chris stares at her in shock, his eyebrows rising so high that they almost disappear into his fringe.
“Pregnant?” asks Chris, unsure whether he simply misheard Danielle.
“Yes,” replies Danielle simply. Chris opens his mouth to speak again, but she continues before he can get the chance. “The rest of my team were already dead when I gave birth to my daughter. Then, a week later, they came and took her.”
“They?” repeats Chris. “You mean the Others?”
“Yes,” says Danielle again. “They took my Alex. I have never seen her since. I do not even know if she is still alive.”
Chris continues to stare at her, still unable to believe what he is hearing.
“I do not know what they wanted with her,” says Danielle, as if able to tell what Chris was about to ask. “But it seems that after sixteen years, they still have a desire to take infants. Though that does not explain why they took the girl from your camp, instead of waiting until she had given birth…”
“I think I know the reason,” says Chris. “One of them infiltrated our camp, pretended to be one of us. We found out he wasn’t on our plane the same day Claire was taken. I guess he had no choice but to take her then and just wait for her to give birth at wherever they’ve taken her.”
There is a long moment of silence as both Chris and Danielle become lost in their thoughts. Finally, Danielle stands up, turns and picks up the knife lying next to Chris’ pack, then moves towards him.
“You are a good person,” says Danielle, stopping a few metres in front of Chris and looking down into his face again. “You put your own life in danger to try and help another. You do not deserve to be tied up like this any longer.”
Chris breathes a long sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Danielle,” smiles Chris. “You’re a good person, too.”
Danielle barely has time to return Chris’ smile before an ear-splitting roar sounds from somewhere very close by. At first, Chris thinks it must be the dreaded monster, but a second later something large and white bursts through the bushes into the clearing, and he identifies it at once as something almost as mysterious as the monster: A polar bear. Had Sayid not already informed him of the bears that bizarrely inhabit this tropical island, Chris would have been sorely tempted to accept he had gone insane.
Danielle takes a split-second’s glance at the bear, then springs into action as though she has been expecting a bear-attack all along. Dropping the knife, she rushes to pick up her trusty rifle, but the bear, already pelting towards her at full-tilt, gets there first. Jumping out of the way of the bear’s thrashing claws, Danielle decides to abandon the attempt to retrieve her rifle, and instead tries to draw the bear as far away as possible from Chris, who is still tied up and is about as easy prey for a rampaging polar bear as an unconscious seal. Chris, taking advantage of the bear’s pursuit of Danielle, searches for the dropped knife; Locating it some ten feet away, Chris lunges forward onto the floor, pushing as hard as he can with his legs, slowly but surely making his way towards the knife. Finally reaching it, he picks it up and wedges it between his bound legs, and starts hacking through the ropes around his wrists. After several seconds of painfully slow progress, Chris finally feels the bonds break free, and wastes no time in putting his newly freed hands to use by slicing through the vines tied tightly round his ankles. At long last, Chris pulls the vines away and leaps to his feet, looking frantically around the deserted clearing.
“Danielle?” shouts Chris, gazing in the general direction that Danielle and her pursuer took off in. “Danielle?”
A loud roar from a short distance away tells Chris all he needs to know. He stumbles slightly, his legs numb from kneeling uncomfortably on the ground for so long, then steadies himself and breaks into a run, following the sounds of the polar bear’s continuing roars.
Chris eventually finds Danielle and the bear, the former of the two dodging behind trees as the latter takes swipe after swipe at her with its massive claws. Chris is inwardly impressed at Danielle’s speed and agility, though he reminds himself that spending sixteen years on an island inhabited by boars, bears and goodness knows what else will probably sharpen your reflexes.
Clutching the knife tightly in his hand, Chris grits his teeth and sprints towards the bear as it continues to pursue Danielle, who is still diving and dodging as though she does this every day. His heart pounding faster than it ever did on a football field, Chris lets out a cry and, fuelled by either stupidity or bravery – or both – he launches himself onto the bear’s back. Steadying himself, Chris plunges the knife as far as it will go between the beast’s shoulder blades; The bear lets out a huge roar of pain as it staggers forwards, Chris clinging on for dear life. Chris pulls the knife with all his might and is about to strike again when the bear, deciding it has had enough, shakes its entire body violently, thrusting Chris from its back into a nearby tree. This time it is Chris’ turn to roar in pain as a sound somewhere between a cracking and a popping issues from his right shoulder as it crunches against the thick trunk of the tree. The bear, apparently satisfied that it is no longer playing host to any unwelcome attackers, bounds off into the jungle, the white fur on its back gleaming scarlet with blood.
Danielle, slightly shocked by the sudden appearance of Chris, and the equally sudden departure of the bear, makes her way towards Chris, who is huddled at the base of the tree he collided with, clutching his injured left shoulder.
“You did not have to do that,” says Danielle, with an almost pitying look on her face, as though Chris had just put his life in danger for no reason whatsoever.
“Of course I did,” says Chris quietly, the colour draining out of his face. “I couldn’t let it kill you.”
“I have more than enough experience dealing with these creatures,” smiles Danielle. “You could have been killed. Once again you put your own life at risk to help someone else…”
“It was nothing, OK?” says Chris. “I was just doing what anyone would have done.”
Danielle looks as if she is about to say something else, so Chris struggles to his feet, trying to move his right arm as little as possible, and slumps off into the jungle before any more can be said.

In flashback, Chris takes a few tentative steps back inside the busy pub, then stops abruptly, thinking hard. Should he go back outside and help the man being attacked by the thugs? The street was deserted; it could be a long time before anyone else comes across them, and who knows what state the man will be in by the time that happens? Will Chris be able to live with himself if the thugs critically injure the man? His guilt getting the better of him, Chris spins round on the spot and heads back out of the pub, receiving more scornful looks from the bouncers.
Bursting out into the quiet London street once more, Chris immediately spots the black man and his attackers, and rushes across the empty road towards them. ‘Silence is golden,’ muses Chris, as he runs towards the commotion with a nimble grace born of his many years as an athlete, his mouth clamped shut; It’s three against one, and Chris’ only advantage is the element of surprise. As he approaches the group, Chris picks out a victim and leaps at him, sending him crashing to the ground with a tackle worthy of a professional rugby player. The thug’s head collides with the hard pavement with an almighty cracking noise, and he falls unconscious instantly. Chris leaps to his feet in time to see one of the two remaining thugs turning to face him. As the thug looks him in the face angrily, Chris notices that the man can barely focus his eyes on him: He is very drunk. The thug swings a severely misjudged punch at Chris, who easily dodges the man’s flailing fist and swings his own elbow hard into the man’s face. The thug lets out a roar of pain and clutches his nose, which is now gushing with blood, dropping to his knees. The third and final thug seems oblivious to the attack on his fellow hooligans, and continues stamping on the black man on the ground with his foot. Chris reaches out and grabs the thug by the scruff of the neck, then swings a heavy punch at him. The thug stumbles backwards but manages to stay on his feet, then lunges at Chris and swings a giant fist that collides with the side of Chris’ head. Stars burst in Chris’ eyes as he stands dazed by the blow. The thug moves in for another punch, but is stopped in his tracks by the man on the ground, who swings his leg round and swipes at the thug’s legs. His feet taken out from underneath him, the thug crashes to the ground next to his unconscious friend.
“Come on, let’s get out of here!” shouts the thug with the broken nose, his words muffled by a mouthful of blood. He and his groaning peer get shakily to their feet and pick up the third, still unconscious, thug. Chris watches as the men rush off down the street as fast as they can, leaving a thick trail of blood in their path. Chris then turns to look at the black man, who struggles up into a kneeling position, groaning. Chris holds out a hand and helps the man to his feet.
“Are you alright…” begins Chris, but he breaks off as the man straightens up and reveals he is dressed in priest’s robes. “Father?”
“Yes,” replies the priest, brushing dust off his robes, his face bloody. His accent is African. “There will be no lasting damage. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” says Chris, still slightly taken aback that the thugs had the nerve to attack a priest. “If you don’t mind me asking, what was all this about?”
“Those men…” begins the priest, looking suddenly ferocious. “They attacked me for no reason. I was simply walking home, and they hit me from behind.”
Chris, deciding it best not to swear in the presence of a priest, simply responds, “Welcome to London.”
The priest surveys him for several seconds, apparently unconcerned about the large cut above his right eye.
“Why did you help me?” the priest finally asks. Chris is unable to decipher whether his tone is suspicious or simply curious.
“Those cowards only attack in groups,” explains Chris. “You were outnumbered, three-to-one. I thought I’d lessen the ratio a bit.”
“You speak as if you have experience with this type of men before,” notes the priest.
“I’m from Scotland,” Chris says simply. “Up there, there are plenty of idiots like those guys. When they’re on their own, they wouldn’t say “boo” to a mouse. But when they get together, they think they’re world-beaters, going around looking for trouble, fuelled by both ignorance and alcohol. And by my experience, that’s not a good combination.”
Chris smiles, hoping the priest would return it; The priest, however, simply nods his head, looking sombre.
“So…Do you have a name?” asks Chris awkwardly.
“Yes,” replies the priest. He hesitates before continuing, “My name is…Mr Eko.”
“Mr Eko?” repeats Chris, unsure whether ‘Eko’ was supposed to be the man’s first or last name. “Well, Mr Eko, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Chris.” He holds out his hand, which Mr Eko shakes.
“Chris? Short for ‘Christopher’, I presume?” asks Mr Eko.
“That’s right,” replies Chris, grimacing slightly at the sound of his full Christian name. “After the Saint, according to my mother. Unfortunately, my name is about the extent of my religious acquaintance.”
“Saint Christopher was a great man,” states Mr Eko.
“Aren’t all Saints great men?” asks Chris sarcastically.
“Yes,” replies Mr Eko simply. Chris wonders if the man even registered his sarcastic tone. “Saint Christopher’s fame derives from the pious legend of him being a “Christ-bearer”. He was a powerfully built man who wandered the world in search of novelty and adventure. He came upon a hermit who lived beside a dangerous stream and served others by guiding them to safe places to cross. He gave Offero – as Saint Christopher was often known – instruction in the truth of God. Offero took the hermit’s place, but instead of guiding travelers, he carried them safely across the stream. Are you familiar with the story?”
Chris, who had been listening intently, shakes his head.
“I’m afraid not,” says Chris. “Like I said, I’m not a very religious person.”
“Very well,” says Mr Eko, his face expressionless. “I shall continue…One day he carried a small child across the stream; the child's weight nearly crushed him. When they arrived on the other side, the child revealed himself as Christ, and he was so heavy because he bore the weight of the world on himself. He then baptised Offero with water from the stream. Christopher's service at the stream led to his patronage of things related to travel and travelers, and people who carry things. Christopher was also one of the Fourteen Holy Helpers.”
Mr Eko pauses, allowing the contents of his story to wash over Chris.
“Like Saint Christopher, you are also a great man,” says Mr Eko seriously. Chris scoffs loudly.
“I very much doubt that,” says Chris, very close to laughing.
“Do not be so modest,” says Mr Eko. “You helped a complete stranger, even putting yourself in danger to do so. I know our paths will cross again…someday.”
“I’ll look forward to that,” smiles Chris. “It was nice meeting you, Mr Eko. But trust me…I’m definitely not a great man.”
He and Mr Eko look at each other in silence for a few seconds; Mr Eko gives Chris one final nod, and Chris turns and walks back towards the pub.

On the island, Chris collapses on the jungle floor next to his backpack. His breathing uneasy, the colour fading from his face, he rummages through his pack, eventually withdrawing a bottle of water. He clumsily unscrews the cap and hastens to pour almost the entire contents of the bottle into his mouth and over his face. The refreshingly cool water splashing down his dry, raw throat, Chris falls back in a heap on the ground, his chest still rising and falling rapidly. The sound of footsteps approaches and Chris slowly raises his eyes to look up into the concerned face of Danielle Rousseau.
“Thank you for helping me,” says Danielle.
“Don’t…mention it,” gasps Chris, every word taking a great deal of energy.
“Would you like me to look at your injury?” asks Danielle.
“Why, are you a doctor?” asks Chris faintly.
“No,” replies Danielle simply. “But I have spent sixteen years on this island. I have had to learn how to treat wounds.”
“OK…” Chris mutters quietly, feeling as if he might pass out from the pain. “That would be lovely.”
Danielle crouches down next to Chris and begins examining his injured shoulder. She takes hold of his arm and raises it slightly; Chris winces and groans in pain. Danielle seems satisfied, and straightens up again.
“It would appear that your shoulder is dislocated,” says Danielle, looking stern.
“Dis…located?” gasps Chris. Danielle nods her head. “Can you…pop it back in?”
Danielle nods again.
“Give me your right hand,” says Danielle calmly. Chris holds out his hand, and Danielle takes it in her own. Without warning, she thrusts his arm upwards, twisting it, and a sickening ‘popping’ noise fills the air as the ball of Chris’ humerus re-enters its socket. Chris screams, slumping on the ground in pain. “Do you have any spare clothes?”
Chris looks up at her.
“What?” Chris asks weakly.
“Clothes,” repeats Danielle. “I need to make a sling for your shoulder.”
“Oh, right…” says Chris, understanding. He leans over and reaches into his pack, pulling out a t-shirt. He passes the t-shirt to Danielle, who rips it up and starts work on a makeshift sling.
“So, tell me,” says Danielle, as she carefully organises the ripped t-shirt. “What will you do now? Will you go back to your camp?”
“No, no way,” says Chris adamantly. “I’m not going back there without Claire.”
“Do you really think you are in any condition to go hiking through the jungle?” asks Danielle.
“Maybe not,” admits Chris, “but I came out here to find a way to get Claire back. I’m not going back until I’ve done that.”
“These people,” begins Danielle, her patience ebbing, “will not be found if they do not want to be. They do not simply leave tracks in the jungle for you to follow. It would be foolish enough for a perfectly healthy person to try and track them down, but for someone in your condition-”
“How’s that sling coming along?” cuts in Chris, tired of arguing. Danielle walks over to him and puts the sling over his head, then carefully places his right arm inside it.
“Keep it rested,” advises Danielle.
“Thanks, Danielle,” says Chris, nodding in gratitude. Danielle holds a hand out for him; Chris takes it, and she helps him to his feet.
“Well…” begins Danielle. “Before you make a decision on what to do next, there is still something else you must do.”
“Oh, yeah?” asks Chris. “And what might that be?”
“Free your friend,” answers Danielle. Chris stares at her in shock. He has completely forgotten about Greg, trapped in a net overnight.
“Holy…” begins Chris. “Where is he?”
“I will take you there,” says Danielle. Chris quickly picks up his pack, the gun and the knife, then turns to look at her. “Follow me.”

Danielle leads Chris through the jungle. They have barely been walking for ten minutes when Chris spots a familiar net hanging from a tree ahead of them.
“Greg!” shouts Chris, rushing towards the net as fast as possible without causing too much discomfort to his shoulder. “Greg! Greg, it’s me! It’s Chris!”
Inside the net, the limp figure is roused slightly by Chris’ voice. Chris watches, as Greg slowly opens his eyes; upon spotting his companion, Greg immediately springs to life.
“Chris!” shouts Greg, half-shocked, half-relieved. “You’re alive! Where have you been? What did that psycho woman do to you?” His darting eyes rest upon the sling on Chris’ arm. “What the hell happened to you?!”
“Polar bear attack,” Chris explains calmly. “But don’t worry; the bear came off worse than me.”
“You have to get me out of here,” says Greg. “We have to get the hell away from this place before that-”
Greg breaks off as he spots something over Chris’ shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” asks Chris, noticing the look of terror on Greg’s face.
“Run,” Greg whispers through gritted teeth. “Run, get out of here! It’s her! She’s back!”
Chris spins round to see Danielle approaching them. Chris smiles as he turns back to Greg.
“It’s OK, Greg,” Chris says in a reassuring tone. “This is Danielle Rousseau. The Frenchwoman Sayid met. She’s not a threat to us. She even made this sling for me.”
Greg looks back and forward between Chris and Danielle, as if searching for any signs that Danielle may in some way be forcing Chris to lie for her. Eventually, after several reassuring looks from Chris, Greg seems to accept Chris’ statement as the truth, and turns to Danielle.
“Greg Young,” says Greg, in an exhausted tone. “I was on the plane too.”
“Well,” says Chris, smiling with the air of someone that has just negotiated peace between two warring countries, “Now that we’re all acquainted, how about I cut you down from that net, Greg?”
Chris doesn’t wait for a response from Greg, and instead pulls out the knife – which is still plastered with the bear’s blood – and slices through the net’s supporting rope. Greg falls to the ground, untangles himself from the net and straightens up.
“You hungry or thirsty at all?” asks Chris.
“No, I’m not too bad,” replies Greg. Chris frowns, finding this odd: If he had spent the entire night suspended in a net, he sure as hell would be in need of a drink of water. Greg seems to sense what Chris is thinking, and continues, “I had some fruit and water in my pack, so I’ve just been helping myself to that every now and then.”
“I’m sorry that you were in the net for so long,” says Danielle. “Once I had found out exactly who Chris was, I was going to come and get you, but we were…interrupted by a bear.”
“Wait, there really was a bear?” asks a sceptical Greg. “I thought you were just fooling around.”
“Oh, yeah, fooling around,” muses Chris. “And my shoulder just happened to dislocate itself, too.”
“Speaking of which,” says Danielle, “perhaps now would be a good time to discuss your next move.”
Chris looks from Danielle to Greg.
“Danielle thinks we should go back to our camp,” explains Chris. “But I told her that I don’t want to go back there unless I’ve found a way to rescue Claire.”
“You know I want to find Claire as much as you do,” says Greg. “But I think Danielle is right. Normally, I would be all for carrying on with the search, but under the circumstances…What, with your shoulder and all…”
“Look, it’s my shoulder, let me worry about it,” retorts Chris angrily.
“Yeah, I know it’s your shoulder,” says Greg. “But what happens if you collapse from exhaustion ‘cos you’ve not rested properly? I’ll have to carry you. And, while I don’t mind having to do that, if we’re being chased by polar bears or monsters or goodness knows what else, I don’t really fancy our chances of outrunning ‘em.” Chris opens his mouth to respond, but seems unable to do so. “Look, I know it seems harsh, mate, but Locke was out here looking for Claire the day she was taken and he couldn’t find her, so what chance have we got?”
“Locke’s a tracker,” explains Chris. “Danielle says these people don’t leave tracks, so he didn’t have anything to follow.”
“Oh, and we do have something to follow?” asks Greg, confused.
“Yeah,” Chris says with an air of certainty. “We’re following the signs in my dr…”
Chris breaks off, as realisation dawns. It all makes sense now. The dream Chris had before Claire was taken, the reason he and Greg are out here. It wasn’t to directly rescue Claire. It was to find something to rescue Claire for them. Or, more specifically, someone. In his dream, it was a French flag that had ensured Claire’s safety. Surely that could mean only one thing.
“Danielle, I need your help,” says Chris, turning to look the Frenchwoman right in the eye.
“Of course,” says Danielle. “What can I do?”
“I’ll go back to my camp, if you promise to do something for me,” says Chris. Danielle eyes him suspiciously, but says nothing. “You know Claire, the girl Greg and I are out here looking for? I need you to find her for us. I need you to find her and bring her back to our camp.”
“Chris, what are you…” begins Greg.
“What makes you think,” begins Danielle, looking at Chris. “That I will have any better luck at tracking her down than you, or this Locke that you spoke of, have had?”
“You’ve been on this island for sixteen years,” explains Chris. “You know it a heck of a lot better than any of us do. Why wouldn’t you have better luck?”
“Do you think,” says Danielle, “that after they took my baby, I did not try and do exactly that? I already told you, these people will not be found if they do not want to be.”
“I know,” admits Chris. “But I also know, beyond any doubt, that you are our only hope of ever seeing Claire again. I don’t know exactly how things will happen, but…If the chance arises for you to help Claire – to help us – and bring her back to our camp…will you do it?”
Danielle stares at him, apparently taken aback.
“You are an extraordinary person, Chris Murray,” Danielle says at last. “I did not expect you to be someone with such unquestioning faith in something.”
“Neither did I,” mutters Greg.
“You risked your life to come out here looking for this girl,” continues Danielle. “And then you threw your body and life on the line to help me. Not many people would be so brave and pure as to do that. Should the opportunity arise for me to help save this girl, I will do all I can.”
Chris and Greg let out a unanimous sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Danielle,” says Chris, smiling widely. “I know you won’t let us down. And I’ll never forget this.”
“Yeah, thank you so much,” smiles Greg. “Almost makes spending a night in a net worthwhile.”
He and Chris chuckle as they shoulder their packs and prepare to leave.
“Until our next meeting,” says Danielle. “Farewell.”
She hitches her rifle over her shoulder and turns and starts walking away from Chris and Greg.
“Hey, Danielle!” Chris shouts after her, and she turns back to face them. “Uh, Claire…She’s blonde, gorgeous, er…pregnant, obviously. And she’s Australian. Just so you know her when you see her.”

Chris and Greg are trekking through the jungle, back in the direction of the survivors’ camp.
“So…” begins Greg, breaking the long silence. “You and the Frenchwoman…”
“Danielle,” says Chris.
“Danielle,” repeats Greg. “What did you talk about…you know, when I was in that cosy little net. I mean, did you find out much about her? How she got here…”
“She had me tied up,” interrupts Chris. “She had a rifle, as well as the gun and knife she took off me. I spent most of the time trying to convince her I wasn’t a threat. Then the polar bear attacked and, as I’m sure you can imagine, there wasn’t really much time for conversation after that.”
“So how did you convince her you weren’t a threat?” asks Greg.
“I told her the truth,” explains Chris. “I said we were in a plane crash, someone infiltrated out camp and kidnapped a pregnant woman, and we were out looking for her…She was pregnant.”
“Who, Claire?” asks Greg, confused. “Yeah, I kind of already knew that…”
“No, not Claire,” says Chris. “I was talking about Danielle.”
“Danielle?” asks Greg disbelievingly. “Danielle was pregnant? Then where’s her…? Wait a minute…”
Realisation dawns on Greg’s face, and Chris smiles.
“She said they took her baby!” shouts Greg. “The Others took her baby?”
“So it would seem,” answers Chris. “Maybe that’s why she was so affected by the news of them kidnapping a pregnant girl.”
“So, do you trust her?” asks Greg. Chris considers the question for several seconds.
“I don’t know,” Chris finally replies.
“You don’t know?” asks a sceptical Greg. “We just left her to go find Claire, and you don’t even know if you trust her?!”
“It doesn’t really matter if we trust her,” states Chris confidently. “I know she’s the key to rescuing Claire, whether she can be trusted or not.”
“Is this about your dream again?” snorts Greg.
“Yeah,” replies Chris. “I know it sounds crazy, and I can’t really explain why I believe in it so much…I just do.”
Silence follows Chris’ words. Greg looks up at the sky above them.
“It’s getting dark,” notes Greg. “We should stop and make camp soon.”

Chris and Greg find a suitable clearing, gather some wood and light a small fire. Chris agrees to keep watch first, as Greg sleeps. Several uneventful hours pass before Greg awakes and relieves Chris of his sentry duty. Chris lies down on the jungle floor and adjusts himself into as comfortable a position as possible, and drifts off to sleep.

Chris wakes up the following morning hoping that everything – Danielle Rousseau, the polar bear, everything – was just a horrible dream. The sharp pains in his shoulder, however, confirm that it had all been very much real. Chris groans and opens his eyes to find Greg sitting nearby, stoking the dying campfire absent-mindedly with a small stick.
“Morning,” says Chris, sitting up straight.
“Morning,” Greg says back, looking up from the smouldering embers. “How’re you feeling?”
“You mean apart from my arm feeling like it’s about to fall off?” asks Chris, and Greg smiles.
“Well, I’m afraid I have some bad news,” says Greg, his expression turning serious again as he adds, “For a change.”
“What’s wrong?” asks Chris, slightly unnerved by the tone of Greg’s voice. Greg reaches into his pack and throws Chris a bottle of water. Chris catches the bottle with his good hand and looks at it in confusion.
“A half-bottle of water is bad news?” asks Chris, truly puzzled.
“It is if it’s all we have left,” answers Chris. “And I’ve had a look around, and there doesn’t seem to be a water source anywhere round here.”
“Well, then,” says Chris, throwing the bottle back to Greg. “We better get going. If we start walking, we might find a nice little stream, or some other source of water. Or we might even make it back to the caves before nightfall. Either way, sitting around in the jungle isn’t going to do us any favours.”
Chris struggles to his feet and looks down at Greg.
“You coming?” asks Chris. He takes a few steps forward, but then doubles up as a fresh wave of pain shoots from his shoulder. Greg leaps to his feet and catches Chris before he falls to the ground.
“You OK?” asks Greg, as Chris steadies himself. “Here. Let me help you.”
“No, I’m fine,” says Chris defiantly.
“Fine?” scoffs Greg. “You almost keeled over! If you want to have a hope of making it back to the caves before dark, you need to let me help you.”
Chris stops protesting, and Greg takes his left arm and throws it over his own shoulders.
“OK, let’s go,” says Chris, being half-carried by Greg. Greg leans down and picks up both their packs, and the pair trundle off into the jungle.

Several hours later, Chris and Greg continue onward with their slow journey through the jungle.
“Do you…” pants Greg, exhausted from the strain of supporting Chris. “Do you…think we’ll make it…back to the caves…before nightfall?”
“Don’t know,” Chris replies simply, trying to exert as little energy as possible on anything other than forcing his legs to keep moving.
“I hope…we do,” gasps Greg. “Another night…out here…might finish us off.”
Chris grunts quietly in agreement.
“Stop…” Chris says finally.
“What is it?” asks Greg in concern, as they stop moving.
“Listen,” Chris replies faintly. Greg strains to listen carefully; over the sound of their heavy breathing, he can just make out the sound of…
“Water,” says Greg, smiling. Chris nods his head, and they start walking again, altering their course in the direction of the sound of running water. Clambering through the trees, they come across a vast river running across their path. Without a word, Chris and Greg drop to their knees by the water’s edge, cup their hands and start scooping water up into their parched mouths. Chris only stops lapping up water when he hears a faint shouting from somewhere relatively close.
“You hear that?” asks Chris; Greg nods his head slowly. On the opposite side of the river, Boone bursts out of the jungle looking distraught.
“Shannon!” shouts Boone, not even noticing his fellow castaways across the river from him. Chris and Greg watch on as he walks towards the edge of the river. He appears to see something on some rocks by the water’s edge, and then apparently notices something in the water. His eyes follow the unknown thing in the water upstream until he seems to notice something. He starts running along the edge of the river, stopping at apparently nothing.
“What the hell’s he doing?” Greg asks in a whisper. Chris shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders, feeling just as confused as Greg looks. They turn back to look at Boone, who is now crouching down, his arms out in front of him as if holding something invisible. Chris and Greg watch on in shock as Boone says something inaudible, then starts sobbing.
“Do you…” begins Chris, feeling slightly uneasy. “Do you think we should go over and, er…see what’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” replies Greg, not taking his eyes off Boone, as though hypnotised by his odd behaviour. Suddenly, Boone rises and walks off into the jungle looking both upset and angry.
“Come on,” says Chris. “Let’s get back to the caves.”
Greg, still watching the spot where Boone disappeared into the trees, snaps out of his reverie and shoulders his pack again. Greg moves to put Chris’ arm round his shoulders again, but Chris stops him.
“I think I’ll be OK by myself,” says Chris.
“You sure?” asks Greg, looking doubtful.
“Yeah, I’ve got it,” says Chris as he starts walking off.

Darkness has settled in by the time Chris and Greg stumble through the entrance to the caves. Both exhausted, though no longer parched, they collapse to the ground next to one of the small water springs used as a water supply for the survivors.
“Stay…here,” Greg says, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’m gonna go…see if Jack’s around here. Your shoulder.”
Chris nods his head slowly. Greg struggles to his feet and walks away, and Chris slowly crawls over to his ‘temporary’ sleeping area he used when his leg was injured. Looking around, he spots Sayid and Shannon filling up water bottles together at the nearest spring.
“I mean, I could spend days just lying in the sun,” says Shannon, smiling.
“Yes, until you start to burn and cannot pick up a mango without being caused severe pain,” jokes Sayid, and Shannon chuckles. “Sorry to spoil it.”
Chris turns away from the chatting pair, and adjusts himself into a position more comfortable for his shoulder.
Greg leads Jack over to Chris, explaining roughly what happened.
“So the polar bear sort of threw him off its back,” explains Greg. “He crashed into a tree, and his shoulder popped…”
Greg breaks off as he reaches Chris to find that he is fast asleep. Jack smiles in amusement.
“I’ll stop by tomorrow morning,” says Jack. “You should get some sleep too, Greg. You look like you could use it.”
Jack walks away, and Greg turns back to look at his sleeping companion.
“Pleasant dreams, Chris,” says Greg; he walks away, smiling to himself.

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

So glad you have started writing again Sawbucks, it was a very good episode. I makes me feel like writing again. I look forward to the next episode

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"Take what you can and give nothing back!"
"Trust is the hardest thing to gain, yet the easiest thing to loose,"

Thanks, blitz! Very Happy

I feel I should apologise for the length of this one, lol! I guess it's just the fact that there hasn't been a new instalment in so long that I thought I'd come back with a bang, lol! I'd be willing to bet almost anything in the world that the next one won't be quite as long... Wink

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.

wow Sawbucks, finally I get to read more! Its been what, over a year?

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Almost a year! Ten months, to be exact... Shocked

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#5 Member of the 'League of X' elite board.