Desmond had been sitting on the complete opposite side of their camp for the last hour or so, staring at the ground and keeping to himself. Charlie and Hurley were sitting together, talking in hushed whispers and nervously glancing in Desmond’s direction every now and then.

“When you left, Jin started talking about how we were supposed to shoot the flare. Desmond kept telling him ‘no,’ but Jin took the gun from him and did it himself. And then he just…” Hurley stabbed the ground angrily with a stick he had clutched in his hand.

Charlie’s eyes traveled over to where Jin’s body lay. He had promptly covered it up with one of their blankets and the three of them immediately retreated to different sides of the clearing. What was he supposed to tell everyone when they returned to the camp? What was he supposed to tell Sun? What would happen to Desmond?

“You know, when Sayid was out here alone…when he got away from the French chick…he said he heard people talking in the jungle.”

“…What?”

“Like whispers and stuff. I heard them, too. When I was with Jack, Kate, Sawyer and Michael. It was right before the Others got us.”

Charlie just shook his head and glanced Desmond’s way. He was still staring intently at the ground, as if he were trying to memorize its imprints. His eyes looked tired and red. Every now and then, he’d take a shaky breath, blink a few times, and go back to staring.

Charlie had enough of sitting around and doing nothing, but he wasn’t ready to confront Desmond yet. That would happen later. Instead, he stood up and brushed the dirt off his jeans. “I’m going to get Jin out of here,” he muttered to Hurley.

Hurley looked up at him with confused alarm. “Uhh…no you‘re not.”

Charlie shook his head. “You’ll be fine.” He nodded in Desmond’s direction. “He’s ok now.”

“You’re forgetting that he just killed Jin and I can’t even walk.”

Charlie ignored him as he walked over to Jin’s body. He knew by the way Desmond looked after he killed Jin that he wouldn’t be trying anything again. He had looked sorry, scared, confused, ashamed. Something had set him off. He wouldn’t do it again.

Charlie wrapped the blanket a little tighter around Jin’s body and grabbed his exposed arms, briefly wondering if he should drag him or attempt to pick him up. Dragging him was hardly an option. But if he tried to carry him, he would most likely drop him.

“Here, let me help.”

Charlie stiffened slightly as Desmond walked over to Jin’s legs and picked them up. Charlie didn’t have a choice but to take his arms. Together, they lifted him carefully and started to shuffle out of the clearing.

“Oh. Ok. So you’re just going to leave me here alone with a twisted ankle. Cool, guys.”

Carrying Jin and feeling his weight suddenly made his death much more real. “Well, there aren’t many other options are there?” Charlie spat, harsher than he had first intended. Even Desmond looked up at him with alarm.

Charlie bit down on his lip, but found himself glaring down the length of Jin’s body at Desmond. He couldn’t forgive him so easily. Why had he? There was always the part where he and Hurley would be completely lost and hopeless without him…even though he was the one to get them lost in the first place. It was a ridiculous scenario that Charlie was starting to hope to only be a bad dream.

“Why’d you do it?” Charlie asked, his voice a low growl. “How could you even…?”

Desmond stumbled over his words nervously. “I don’t know what came over me. The flare gun…I said not to…”

“No one just kills someone else like that, Desmond!” Charlie exclaimed as they both set Jin down carefully. The blanket had started to slip off, so Charlie hastily covered Jin’s face back up. He didn’t exactly know why he was yelling at a murderer when he was alone and lost in the middle of the jungle. But his initial shook was starting to deteriorate and was quickly being replaced by another emotion.

Desmond had gone back to staring at the ground and rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans. “That wasn’t me. I would never do that.”

“No, it was clearly you.”

Desmond lifted his head now and took a step towards him. “Listen.”

Charlie immediately recoiled and Desmond shook his head, turning to walk back to their camp.

“You know, according to Hurley you’re not the only one to hear things in the jungle!” Charlie called after him. “But it never caused anyone to do anything like what you did.”

Desmond just kept walking. Charlie looked down at Jin’s body and sighed. He couldn’t bury him, so he was going to have to leave him like this - wrapped in an old blanket.

He stood there next to the body for some time. He wanted to say something - no, had to. He highly doubted that Jin was a Catholic or Christian or of any religion that had to do with reading the Bible, but he still quoted one of the only verses he could remember.

“‘The righteous perish, and no one ponders it in his heart; devout men are taken away, and no one understands that the righteous are taken away to be spared from evil. Those who walk uprightly enter into peace; they find rest as they lie in death.’”

He paused and shrugged helplessly, unsure of what else he could do. It felt wrong. The language barrier had forbidden Charlie from really getting to know the man. He shouldn’t have been the one doing this. It shouldn’t have even happened.

After a brief moment of silence that he felt he owed, he turned around and walked back to their camp.

“Listen, Hurley, don’t do this.”

Charlie’s eyes opened at the sound of Desmond’s panicked voice and he sat up, pushing the blanket off of him. It had been two days since Jin’s death, and the three of them had been sitting in their camp - waiting for something to happen. Nothing ever did.

He and Desmond were on speaking terms, at least. Charlie wasn’t so much afraid of him as he was worried. Not an hour went by when Desmond didn’t mutter something about Jin. Hurley still stared at him like he was mentally unfit for society and refused to even talk to him. But Charlie couldn’t help but talk. They were all scared, and no good would come from ignoring each other.

Hurley was dry heaving and gagging as Charlie hesitantly made his way over to him. His stomach turned and clenched when he saw why Hurley didn’t have anything left to cough up. Everything that he had recently eaten was on the forest floor.

“What’s going on?” Charlie demanded, glaring angrily at Desmond between nervous glances at Hurley. “What did you do?!”

“He’s dehydrated,” Desmond explained, raking his dirty fingers through his hair. “Oh Christ, I don’t know what to do.”

Hurley appeared to be in a kind of pain that Charlie couldn’t even begin to fathom. He was completely white and his hair and face were drenched in sweat, which meant that his body was losing water rapidly. Charlie’s own breath caught in his throat and he stared at Desmond, waiting for him to fix it.

“You were almost a doctor, right?” Charlie asked shakily. “So do something, yeah?”

Desmond shook his head, indicating that there wasn’t anything he could do when they were out of water. Hurley seemed to sense their hesitancy, which only made things worse. He started to hoarsely complain about muscle cramps and a migraine as his eyes threatened to shut.

Charlie didn’t take a second longer to think. “There has to be water around here somewhere,” he decided, grabbing his pack. “I’ll be back.”

Desmond turned away from Hurley for the first time and shot Charlie a glare. “There’s no water! I looked!”

“Maybe you didn’t look in the right places,” Charlie countered. He looked at Hurley guiltily. “Look, just keep him calm and…” he trailed off, not sure where he was taking the sentence. Hurley would be fine. There was no way he wouldn’t be. Before Desmond could stop him, Charlie ran off.

It took a full five minutes for him to realize that he didn’t know where he was going and didn’t know how to get back. All he knew was that somehow Desmond had missed a stream, because there had to be one somewhere. They were scattered all over the Island and always very conveniently placed. Recently, Desmond hadn’t been too clear in the head, anyway.

It then took about another fifteen minutes for him to realize that there really was no nearby stream. Of course, he hadn’t looked very long. But he also didn’t want to leave Hurley alone. Still - returning without water wasn’t really an option because if something happened…it would feel like his fault.

He had paused to weigh his options when he heard it - a low rumbling sound. Something that sounded like creaking chains and distant roars. The ground quivered slightly underneath him and the noise only increased. It was approaching from the direction of their camp, meaning the monster was either going through it now, was about to, or already had. He would’ve started running the other direction in an attempt to get away, as one usually did in life-threatening situations. But instead, he ran towards it. If there was still time, he had to help Hurley get out of the camp. Somehow.

He didn’t run very far until he practically collided with Desmond, who wordlessly grabbed him and pulled him back in the direction he had just come from. He was too shocked to say anything until Desmond pushed him into the hollow of an old tree and climbed in after him.

“Where the hell is Hurley?” Charlie demanded, even as the roars and motor-like noises drowned out his voice. He stayed close to the back of the tree as Desmond stayed near the entrance, watching.

Eventually, the sound fell away as the monster took on a different path. Desmond’s tense shoulders dropped heavily and he turned away from the entrance, making his way to Charlie. “It uproots trees, you know. We were lucky.”

Charlie ignored him and shakily got on his feet. “Where’s Hurley, Desmond?”

“I-”

“That thing went through the camp, so where is he?!” Charlie didn’t wait for a response. He left the hollow and broke into a jog, Desmond following close behind him. He could feel his heart pounding, but not from the run and not from the monster. The very idea of Hurley simply not being around terrified him.

“Hurley?” Charlie called as he entered the camp. Everything they had brought with them was scattered about. Charlie still had his pack with him, but the other three packs were torn and their food was strewn everywhere. Everything but his guitar had been ruined. It was lying on the ground, fretboard side down. Charlie could see a couple of the strings coiled near the pegs, but the instrument itself was still in one piece.

“Hurley?” Charlie tried again, looking up from the mess. There was no trace of his friend. He was gone.

Charlie turned to Desmond angrily, his voice threatening to break. “Where is he?!”

Desmond stared at him sympathetically before pointing at a large, uprooted tree that was now lying through their camp. “It was hollowed out - like the one we found…I…”

“Why didn’t you stay with him?!” Charlie nearly screamed. His voice was quivering and his hands were shaking uncontrollably. Desmond had taken note of this and was holding his hands up in a sort of “calm down and breathe” gesture.

“I had to find you,” he tried. “Listen, mate…”

Charlie tuned him out and circled around the fallen tree. There was no sign of Hurley anywhere. Had he somehow gotten away? How? It was a physical impossibility on his part. Charlie’s fists clenched and his nails dug into his palms, leaving flaming red indents.

“Charlie…” Desmond said quietly, watching him carefully. He left the sentence unfinished.

In a series of quick movements, Charlie ceased his guitar by the neck. Desmond immediately jumped back and guarded his face with his hands, expecting the blow to be directed at him. But instead, Charlie slammed the body of the instrument into a nearby tree. The first swing caused a large crack, but the second completely destroyed it. Charlie threw down what was left and picked up his pack.

“We should go.”

For the next few hours, they walked together in silence. Charlie’s nerves had calmed, but he was pretty sure that he had switched to denial mode. He kept his eyes fixed ahead of him, never looking at Desmond. Even when he shot him a concerned glance. Desmond eventually became tired of the shunning and broke the lengthy silence.

“I’m sorry,” he tried.

“It’s not your fault,” Charlie muttered. He had been thinking about it the entire walk. Desmond had told him not to run off - that there was no water. If he had only stayed, they would’ve all been together during the attack. They would’ve either died together or lived together. No in between. Charlie was as equally responsible as Desmond.

Desmond didn’t question his statement and only nodded thoughtfully. “It’s only a matter of time before we become dehydrated,” he put in gently.

Charlie was too emotionally exhausted to show any real alarm. He just swallowed hard and nodded. “It’s been, what, a week since we headed out? A few days without water?”

Desmond didn’t answer. He had seemed to be losing track of time as well. Had it been a week? Or longer? They never had made it to a treeline.

Charlie’s mouth suddenly felt very dry, but he was pretty sure it was only his subconscious. Desmond just shouldn’t have said anything about it and let him forget, but it’s not like that would stop it from happening.

They continued on for two more hours in silence before they practically fell into what Charlie knew they would find eventually - a clear, deep stream. It was a relief, of course. But they were both hesitant to show any kind of excitement. All Charlie could think about as he filled his water bottles was how close they had been.

They stayed by the stream for the next few days and relied on the water to take care of their hunger. Paranoid, Charlie made Desmond confirm over and over again that it was possible to go for a month and maybe longer without food. It just didn’t seem right or even possible, but Desmond assured him that they would be fine. They would probably find fruit trees, anyway.

After their fourth day by the stream, they decided to follow it since it went in the direction they were headed, anyway. By doing so, they wouldn’t lose site of what seemed to be their only source of water. They usually wouldn’t be worried about losing a stream, but nothing seemed put together anymore.

“You were supposed to die.”

They were walking on the banks, Charlie taking the lead for once as Desmond trailed behind. Charlie stopped where he was and turned around, wondering if he misheard. “Come again?”

Desmond’s eyes flashed at him guiltily. “This whole trek…if you died, then Penny…”

Charlie looked down at the ground. In any other situation, he would’ve been angry at Desmond. But he just couldn’t muster the energy to really even care.

“Why are you telling me this now?” He turned and started walking again.

“I thought you should know,” Desmond answered, following.

“Yeah,” Charlie shrugged. “Any chance of that still happening?” He was only half-joking.

He could practically feel Desmond glaring at the back of his head. He almost laughed, but nothing came out. “I’m kidding,” he assured him, glancing over his shoulder.

“If you were to die…” Desmond sighed and gestured around the jungle, illustrating how void it was.

“You wouldn’t have any company,” Charlie finished for him. He stopped walking and sat on a rock, tilting his head back to look at the treetops. “No fruit still.”

Desmond glanced up at the treetops with no interest. “Maybe we broke the cycle,” he said, giving Charlie a weak smile.

Charlie paused. His eyes traveled from Desmond to the fruitless trees several times before staring at him quizzically.

“I was referring to your deaths, Charlie.”

Charlie hardly contained an amused smile. “Oh.”

“What happened in the flash didn’t follow through. Maybe I’ll never have another one again.”

Charlie only shrugged and tossed a pebble into the stream. “You know, I figured that’s why you wanted me to come. And I decided there was no way you could get away with it if Hurley and Jin were there.” He glanced back at Desmond and then tore his eyes away. “And now look. They’re gone and I’m still here.”

“We don’t know about Hurley,” Desmond reminded him gently.

Charlie stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Desmond winced and nodded. He knelt down by the stream and started to fill up his water bottles. “I can’t help but notice that you’re not yelling at me about how I was going to let you die.”

“Hate to disappoint you, but that’s the least of my worries right now. I know you look forward to my weekly panic attacks. The truth is…it’s ok, Des.” He shrugged and stood up. “We won’t last long here, anyway.”

Desmond didn’t deny it or agree. “If it makes you feel any better,” he began, changing the subject. “I doubt I could’ve stood back and let it happen.”

“So you have morals, which is a good thing.”

Desmond actually laughed, but it was strangled and unnatural. “Aye. Guess so.”

Charlie’s smile fell off his lips as he thought back to Jin’s murder. He watched Desmond uneasily. “You haven’t been hearing…?”

“No,” he said stiffly, dismissing the topic quickly. He shifted uncomfortably and walked past Charlie, taking the lead. “I’m not sure what happened,” he added quietly.

Charlie was sleeping no more than three feet away from Desmond when the gun was pressed against his temple.

His eyes flashed open and a hand slipped over his mouth. Whoever had a hold of him was behind him. Desmond still slept, his back to Charlie, oblivious.

“Stand up,” the voice instructed, thickly accented. Charlie did as he was told. If he reached out far enough, he could definitely kick Desmond and wake him up. But Desmond wasn’t exactly the one with the gun pointed to his head.

The man moved the gun from Charlie’s temple to directly under his chin, making sure his head tilted up. Charlie’s breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes.

“Wake up your friend.” Charlie now recognized the accent from his touring days. It was Russian.

“Uh, Desmond?!”

Desmond sat up slowly, back still towards them. After a moment, he turned around to address Charlie. But when he caught site of what was going on, he jumped to his feet and pulled the flare gun out from his pack. He must’ve grabbed it when they returned to their previous camp.

“Let him go,” Desmond demanded, pointing the flare gun as if it were a real firearm - despite the fact that Charlie was directly in front of their intruder. Charlie quickly closed his eyes again.

“That’s a flare gun,” the man pointed out, pushing his own gun a little harder under Charlie’s chin.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t fire it,” Desmond said defensively. “Now what do you want?”

“Where’s the parachutist?”

“The what?” Charlie heard Desmond ask. Charlie hesitantly reopened his eyes.

“The parachutist - the person that landed on the Island.”

“I-I don’t know,” Desmond stammered. There was no doubt that his mind automatically went to Penny. “I have no idea. We were looking, but we never found anything…”

The gun shifted back to Charlie’s temple. “If you do not tell me, I will have to kill him.”

“You don’t understand, brother, I’m telling you the truth.”

Charlie briefly wondered how Desmond could call a man that had a gun pointed to his head by a name that you used if you generally liked someone, but the thought quickly escaped his mind when he heard the man switch the gun off of safety.

“Ok, ok!” Charlie cried, twisting slightly in the man’s grip. “Look, he doesn’t want to tell you but I will.”

Desmond was now staring at him quizzically, but Charlie ignored him.

“When we found…her…she was dead, so we left.”

“Where is her body?”

“I, uh…” he looked over at Desmond hopefully. He would leave it up to him to get this man as far away from them as possible.

“I’m not sure of the distance, but her body is north,” Desmond said. His delivery was so smooth and effortless that even Charlie was halfway convinced.

“We were…we were headed back to our camp,” Charlie added on.

“You said north?” The man asked Desmond.

“Yes.”

“If you lied to me, I’ll find you.”

Charlie watched Desmond’s expression carefully. He didn’t even flinch. Just a brief, understanding nod.

Charlie felt the butt of the gun slam against the side of his head, and then nothing else.

When he finally gained consciousness, it was nearly midday. He found himself lying on a blanket in their camp with Desmond kneeling over him, a soaked cloth pressed against the side of his head.

“Here, hold this,” Desmond instructed. Although disoriented, Charlie nodded and took hold of the cloth. “Now sit up.”

Desmond helped him lean against the trunk of a tree and then sat down next to him. “That was quick thinking.”

It took Charlie a few seconds to realize what Desmond was talking about. He almost nodded, but it hurt too bad. “Well, I was the one with a gun pointed at me.”

“Aye, that’s true.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes as Charlie tried to cope with his new injury. The collar of his shirt was soaked with blood and he felt incredibly nauseous and ill. But Desmond was watching him carefully, and that made him feel a little better despite the fact that there wasn’t much he could do for him.

“You know, he didn’t have to hit me.”

“I think he thought you’d turn on him if he simply let you go.”

Charlie rolled his eyes slightly and gently removed the cloth from his head. It was completely drenched in blood. Desmond took it from him and immediately supplied him with a new one.

Feeling lightheaded, Charlie closed his eyes as he spoke. “Who was he?”

“Not sure. Had an eye patch. Had to be one of the Others.”

He was the man that Sayid had told him about. The man who had lied about being a part of the Dharma Initiative and then tried to kill him. Charlie opened his eyes and turned to Desmond. “He was the one at the Flame station, then.”

Desmond nodded and stood up. “I hate to tell you this, but we need to keep walking. As soon as he found out we lied…”

Charlie glared at him half-heartedly. “I return to consciousness less than five minutes ago and you’re asking me to walk.”

Desmond winced. “Sorry.”

Desmond hauled him to his feet and put a water bottle in his hand. “I’ll carry your pack for you. Drink a lot. Stay hydrated.”

Charlie had heard it a million times. “Yeah,” he muttered. “You’ve been telling me that for…” How long had they been lost? A week and a half? Two weeks? He didn’t finish his sentence as he followed Desmond down the stream.

“You have the flare gun,” Charlie noted a few minutes later.

Desmond only nodded. “It has only one flare left in it.” He suddenly stopped and dropped his pack, pulling it out.

“You’re going to shoot it?” Charlie asked nervously. Desmond had recently killed someone for doing the same thing he was about to. It didn’t really fit.

“Can’t hurt to try,” Desmond shrugged, raising it above his head and firing. Charlie sighed and watched as it exploded in the sky, secretly praying that someone on their side would see it.

It was at least a weak later - maybe two - when Charlie realized what being stranded on an Island was really like.

There were no supplies. No tents, no permanent camp. No incredibly convenient food drops or a hatch with a record player and a couple beds. Despite the random kidnappings and attacks, Charlie realized that he had been quite pampered for the past two and a half months. There had been food when he needed it. An understanding doctor that helped him through heroin withdrawal. He had friends, and there had actually been times when they had fun. Playing golf, attempting to fish, backgammon. They hadn’t exactly been living Lord of the Flies style.

Charlie wasn’t sure what he looked like, but Desmond was gaunt and sickly. Despite their many attempts to locate fruit trees, they never found any. And fruit wasn’t very substantial. They needed protein - meat.

Despite their conditions, they stayed rather clean due to the river that they continued to follow. They never did run into a treeline or the beach. If anyone had seen their flare, they hadn’t found them yet. The Russian man never returned. The loneliness and hopelessness was finally starting to settle.

Each night, Charlie wondered if he would wake up the next morning. But what scared him more was the idea of Desmond dying. What would he do then? The only thing that really made him get up and walk every morning was Desmond’s persistence. If he wasn’t there, Charlie was pretty sure that he’d just lie there and rot.

“Do you know how long its been?” Charlie asked one morning. It felt like they had been walking in circles for an eternity. They should’ve been out of the jungle by now. Back at the camp.

“I’m not sure,” Desmond admitted, slowly coming to a stop. As Charlie came up behind him, he could hear his labored breathing.

“Des?” Charlie asked in alarm, putting a hand on his back as he sank down next to a tree trunk. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah…I’m fine.” His breathing was still hurried and short. “I just need to rest.”

It was when he brought up his hands to brush away his tangled hair that Charlie noticed just how bony and skeletal his hands looked. Charlie looked down at his own hands and saw that they didn’t look much better.

How long had it taken Chris McCandless to starve? Charlie remembered reading an article about him, but he couldn’t bring up any details. Something about how he could’ve accidentally ingested poisonous seeds…which didn’t even apply to he and Desmond, as they hadn’t technically ingested anything but water.

“Are you ok?” Charlie asked again, biting his lip. Desmond didn’t say anything this time. Just nodded.

They slept there that night. It was a surprisingly nice rest, but for all the wrong reasons. Charlie ended up sleeping late because Desmond never woke him up. When Charlie did finally wake up on his own, he found Desmond sitting up with a vacant expression.

“Shouldn’t we keep walking?” Charlie asked, inching over to sit next to him. Desmond only shook his head. Charlie could make out his protruding cheek bones and sunken eyes.

“Don’t think I can,” Desmond explained.

This was it. They were giving up now. What was he supposed to do if Desmond asked him to kill him? Surely he wouldn’t. Surely they weren’t that far gone.

Desmond placed a hand on Charlie’s knee. “You can go if you want.”

“You’re just being dramatic!” Charlie suddenly exclaimed, not sure if this was the case or not. “You’ve been walking for…what…weeks? And now you’re just going to stop?!”

“I just can’t do it right now,” Desmond muttered, voice hoarse. Charlie sensed his frustration and decided to not press the subject again.

“You don’t talk about Hurley.”

The statement completely caught him off guard. Charlie had just finished building them a fire, but he now turned to Desmond uncertainly. “What?” He asked, voice weak.

“You never talk about him,” Desmond repeated. “Are you all right?”

“You know, maybe there’s a reason I don’t.”

“To avoid it?”

“Thought it was obvious, but yeah. That would be it.”

Desmond blinked back what Charlie assumed to be tears and looked down. “I’m sorry. You know, I should‘ve listened to your when you said to wait until morning. It was a stupid idea. I was being selfish and I didn’t even think that this would happen…”

“Desmond.”

“And if you want to leave…if you think if you keep going you’ll figure away out…go ahead.”

Charlie’s jaw clenched and he stood up. “I’m going to find you food so you’ll stop with this melodramatic complaining, Desmond. You’re going to be fine.”

Before, Desmond would’ve yelled at him for even suggesting to walk off. But now he simply let him leave.

When Charlie actually started walking again, he realized how exhausted he truly was. His limbs were sore and his chest felt tight - like something was wrong with his heart. A heart failure was really the last thing he needed, so he simply took a long sip from his water bottle and continued on.

A half-hour into his walk, Charlie finally stumbled into a tree that looked different from the rest. A long thin trunk, large leaves. Several papayas had fallen at its base. As soon as he gathered them into his pack, he sprinted back to their camp, ignoring the soreness he felt with each footfall.

“Hey, guess what,” Charlie said proudly as he stumbled into the clearing by the stream, out of breath. “It’s not meat…it’s not protein. But - Des?”

He was slumped heavily against the tree trunk he had been resting against for the past few days. Head fallen to one side, no chest movement. Charlie dropped his pack and hesitantly approached him, afraid of what he might discover.

He gently pressed two fingers on the pulse point beneath Desmond’s jaw. It was faint and barely there. Not like Jin’s where there had been nothing. “Desmond?” Charlie tried again, louder this time.

Desmond did nothing. Didn’t even move. His pulse began to dwindle away.

“Oh my God,” Charlie gasped, reality striking him. He stumbled away from the body and stood up. Too fast. He felt a rush to his head and a sudden lightness, and then a falling sensation. He slightly recalled someone rolling him onto his back, someone trying to talk to him. But he comprehended nothing afterwards.

A small hand rested on his forehead, combed through his hair, lightly touched his ear. The sensation was enough to make his eyes open to see Claire gazing down at him. Her familiar blue eyes lightened up and she cupped his cheek with the palm of her hand.

He looked up past her to see the ceiling of a tent. He realized that sand was underneath the blanket he was lying on. He suddenly grabbed her hand and held on tight.

“Jack?” Claire called, not taking her eyes off of him. “Jack, he’s awake.”

A faint smile appeared on her lips as Jack came through the tent flap and knelt down next to him. “Charlie? How do you feel?”

Charlie paused, still holding onto Claire’s hand. He actually did feel better. He no longer felt like his insides were rotting or disintegrating. “I..I feel all right.” His voice was weak and scratchy. He swallowed slightly in an attempt to relieve the pain.

“We’ve been feeding you,” Claire said softly, her hand moving back up to brush away his hair from his forehead.

“Sayid, Danielle and I found you and Desmond about a week ago. We’d been tracking you for almost two months.”

“Two months?” Charlie gasped, causing himself to cough slightly. Jack nodded solemnly. “Desmond? Where is he? Is he ok?”

“He’s been awake for about a day now. Sayid and Kate have been keeping an eye on him. He was worse off than you were, but he’s getting better. I‘ll go tell him you‘re all right.” Jack stood up and left the tent.

Charlie slowly sat up. Claire’s eyes widened and she touched his shoulder in a gentle protest.

“I’m fine,” Charlie promised, wincing slightly. “Are you…are you ok?”

“You’ve been lost in the jungle for two months and you’re asking me if I’m ok?!” Claire exclaimed, her eyes beginning to water slightly. “You know, when you said this was all about ‘male bonding,’ I didn’t expect you to have to be carried back half dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Charlie murmured, staring down at the blanket he was sitting on. “I didn’t know this was going to happen.”

“It’s ok,” Claire softened. She started to stroke his knee. “Hurley was worried sick about you and Desmond. He-”

Charlie did a double take. “…Hurley?”

Claire frowned slightly. “I suppose you didn’t know he was alive. When Jack found him, he had to take him right back here. That’s why it took so long to get to you and Desmond. He said you were separated on accident. He didn’t know if you were alive…”

Charlie’s breathing slowly returned to normal. “Where is he?”

“I’ll go get him,” Claire said, standing up and leaving the tent. A few minutes later, Hurley hurried in the best he could on his hurt foot. He threw his arms around Charlie in a huge bear hug and only let him go when Charlie started to shift uneasily.

“I thought you were dead,” Charlie said quietly, staring at him as if he couldn’t believe his friend was standing right in front of you.

“Well, I thought you were dead. So I’d say we’re even as far as emotionally torturing each other goes.”

Charlie gave him a small smile and nodded. “I’d say so.”

Hurley’s expression suddenly became very sinister. “I told them that Jin accidentally stepped into one of the French chick’s traps.”

Charlie glanced down. “You did?”

“Yeah. They bought it. You know…I didn’t think Desmond could take nearly starving to death and being hated for someone’s murder all at once.”

“Is Sun ok?”

“…Not really, dude. She was…uh…she’s pregnant.”

“Fuck,” Charlie whispered, resting his head in his hands.

Hurley looked down. “Yeah.”

“I should talk to her,” Charlie decided, sitting up a little straighter. “I should…do something…”

“Kate and Juliet have been taking really good care of her,” Hurley reassured him. “But I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt.”

Charlie was about to respond when Claire walked in, Aaron in her arms. “Look who’s awake to see you.”

Charlie spent the rest of the day sleeping off and on and talking to Claire and Hurley. It wasn’t long until Jack told him he was okay to start walking again. The first place he went was Desmond’s tent.

“Just so you’re aware,” he began as he pushed past the flap to find Desmond sitting up and eating a small meal that someone had prepared for him. “I am never going on a walk with you again. Ever.”

Desmond smiled up at him, amused. “What? You mean you don’t want to relive all that again? I can’t imagine why not.”

Charlie frowned and sat down next to him, exhausted. It was too early to joke about it now. Maybe in about twenty years. By the way Desmond was smiling, Charlie figured that he hadn’t heard about Sun’s pregnancy. It would need to stay that way for now.

“You almost died.”

“Aye. I caught onto that.”

Charlie took a deep breath and allowed himself to relax a little. “You feeling all right?”

“Much better, thanks. How’s Claire?”

“Surprisingly, she’s hardly yelled at me. Which is a miracle you can’t even begin to understand. I guess she decided that walking around in the jungle for two months was enough punishment.”

Desmond shook his head. “It didn’t seem like two months. But I suppose that’s a good thing, huh?”

“Yeah. It is.”

Charlie stood up slowly, still adjusting. “I should get back to Claire and the baby, then.”

Desmond nodded and set his plate down. “Charlie?”

“Yeah?” Charlie said, turning around as he was about to leave.

“Thanks.”

Charlie gave him a confused smile. “Why?”

“You put up with me after I killed someone and was responsible for someone else disappearing. It’s more than I could’ve done.”

Charlie’s smile widened a little. “I didn’t exactly want to wander around the jungle alone, so I decided to spare you. See you later?”

“Yeah.”

“All right.”

End.