Sorry this took so long folks, and I apologise for any problems with the layout. I can't get me head round this edit/preview system's complete and utter hatred for br> tagging...

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"ARGH!"

Even on the worst comedown, Charlie had never actually experienced pain like this.

Oh wait, no, having his head wound cauterised by Sayid came pretty close, but that had been the type of pain that flared up and grasped tightly for a few seconds. Right now, all he could feel was the dull ache of bone and twinges from lying awkwardly.

Blue eyes opening slowly, coming into focus with his mind's comprehension of his situation, it appeared that he was in some sort of clearing, the earth moist and thick beneath him and the light falling across him green, filtered through leaves.

"What…?" confused, he twisted round painfully and looked to see upon what he had been sleeping.

His eyes widened, "Bloody Hell…" he gazed up the embankment, wondering how the hell he hadn't killed himself on one of the rocks, correctly assuming that he'd fallen and that was how he'd ended up in this heap.

Nausea washed over him like the white horses of a murky sea and memories of a childhood holiday to Rhyll suddenly flashed through his mind then were shaken away as he soothed his head with a hand. What had happened? He could remember walking, thinking, the world going violently sideways and…

He could've sworn…

Charlie shook his head, frowning and mentally scolding himself. He thought he'd heard a voice, but the last thing he needed right now was to lose his mind, let alone get lost in the "haunted forest" with his body in a slightly worse running condition than he'd like.

His left leg was bruised and scratched, but otherwise looked fine – from what he could tell, he wasn't exactly a doctor…his right leg however…

Charlie had, in his youth, been unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of a rugby tackle in PE, the elder boy being a lot bigger crushing Charlie and breaking his leg in the process.

It may have been 12 years back, but he could remember and recognise the splintering pain.

The big fucking rock atop of his ankle was also a clue.

What the hell was he supposed to do? He was stuck like this until someone came across him and surely the chances of that happening were ridiculously small? Charlie cursed some more in a vain attempt to vent both the pain and the frustration – but it was no real relief, psychosomatic wasn't a word he bandied about when it came to broken limbs and being lost in a forest that had a habit of sending a creature of gargantuan quality in your general direction…

Wincing and lying gently back on the earth, Charlie had only to shut his eyes and he faded back into sleep, pain and disorientation stirring his subconscious into trying to remedy the situation with rest.

He knew he was in trouble though, and he stirred slightly as he sank deeper into sleep, trying to blot out the pain in his body and slowly images of colour and movement seeped into his mind. He dreamt rarely since he got clean, and the images took an unusual speed in taking hold of him and their clarity, he would later remark, was astounding.

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"Wo..."

Desperate breathing, the tightness in his chest won't leave, and it's getting more and more painful with each moment – but he can't stop, he can't, if he does he'll...

They'll get him. They'll get him and take him back and – pain, tree roots colliding with flesh that breaks so easily under solid pressure. Pulls himself up and carries on running, he can't stop. Just can't.

Jumps over a root, looking down at his feet for a moment, suddenly wondering "why the hell am I wearing..."

He ignores it, focusing on the glint of light ahead in the darkness of the forest that's closing in around him.

He knows it's a dream when he finds himself staring into a mirror, miraculously intact from the crash. He should've known when he was thinking thoughts that weren't his, but he knows now and that's what matters...

"Wo bin ich?"

"What...is going on?"

His reflection had changed. He reached out, touched the cold glass – a flash of pain and being thrown against something very solid and concrete came to memory.

It was so real...but all the worst nightmares are.

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Jack was at a loss, attending to his responsibilities as de facto leader of the survivors, but all noted that something was amiss with the doctor; he was distant, bitter and grey.

He knew that they'd lost Charlie before, and that he'd come back, albeit with a little help from Jack's medical training but still, he'd come back. Still, he hated waiting.

Jack didn't mind the feeling of something being missing if he was out looking for it, then at least he was doing something and there was a glimmer of hope – to just wait for the lost object to come back seemed pointless, especially since Michael's son was snatched away by Rousseau's "Others". He was stuck here, pretending they knew that Charlie would come back, when he really had no clue and just wanted to run into the forest and search high and low for the younger blond…

"Jack?"

He looked up, a familiar freckled face looking down at him, concern written in her fair features. Kate had been one of the group who'd supported the plan to wait, sending out discreet searches, claiming that since the Ethan incident, it would be better not to worry the other survivors…

"Hey Kate."

She narrowed her eyes in the sun and knelt beside him, planting herself in the sand – he couldn't help his eyes wandering down her body to rest on her legs, he'd always been a leg man himself…

"Jack, Sayid got back from his search. He says there's no sign of Charlie."

"Did I expect anything else?" he nodded grimly, Kate tilting her head in expectation. None of them were used to Jack being quite so reluctant to talk.

"Whose next to go?"

"Locke."

Jack couldn't help letting out an audible "tut" and the corner of Kate's mouth twitched, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, an action that would normally have placated the older man, but this time he tensed beneath her touch and she pulled her hand away as if scolded, before putting it down to the stress Jack was under.

"Jack, we made an agreement – I can go with Locke if you want?"

Jack shook his head, silent for a moment, and then turned to Kate with dark eyes.

"No…I'll go with him."

"I don't think that's a good idea…"

Jack stood and brushed sand off his legs, uncharacteristically curt and moody, "I'm not going to sit around and do nothing again Kate. I'll go with John this time, and that's it."

She blinked up at him, masked eyes working something out then nodded reluctantly, accepting his hand to get up.

"I guess I'll go tell Locke to meet you there then…"

And off she went.

"There" was the entrance to the caves, where each and every member of the search would report to once they'd returned or just before they left. Hurley kept the numbers – something he appeared to have quite a skill for. Jack lengthened his stride, hoping to get there in time to catch Sayid.

He had to find Charlie, whether alone or with help from Mr Locke – he had to find the lost sheep from his flock…

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Any advice regarding the lack of br> tag would be greatly appreciated, and I also think I should point out that this chapter was a lot shorter than originally intended...

Damn my muse!

Danke anyways :)