Remember the Rain (Parts 1 & 2)
Remember the Rain
Name: Falafel
Title: Remember the Rain
Summary: Desmond takes Charlie and Hurley to see Mr Eko's grave. Later in the evening they make camp together on the beach and Charlie confronts Desmond about his mysterious powers and a half-remembered meeting.
Characters: Hurley, Charlie and Desmond. Hurley narration.
Word Count: 3825
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost.
Warnings: A brief moment of violence.
Author's Note: I wrote this story long before 'Flashes before your Eyes' aired. It was based on spoilers and promo clips for that episode. Obviously the show turned out quite differently, but I still enjoy this fic for its Hurley narration and the fact that Mr Eko gets a little more mourning. I have made a few edits and alterations so this story fits better with the canon, but it is still doing its own thing.
Remember the Rain: Part One
Dude, what a week…
This is probably the crappiest week I’ve had on this island since crash landing here, which is up against some stiff competition. If I think too hard about Libby dying or Michael turning evil or the jungle mafia waving their guns at us I’m gonna drive myself nuts. I need to take my mind off the things. I need to distract myself with something goofy. I go looking for Charlie.
He’s usually hovering around Claire’s tent, but she and the baby are sleeping right now and there’s no sign of him on the beach. I’m thinking about looking for lunch instead when I spy Charlie sitting in the middle of Sawyer’s tent with the famous stash spread out all around him. Charlie looks up at me and smirks like he thinks he’s being really badass. I’m thinking he looks more like a kid stealing cookies. He asks me to come join him. I figure I might as well.
“Dude, I don’t know about this…” I say after about ten minutes of watching Charlie toss around stuff belonging to a guy who’s probably getting tortured by the Others right now.
“He would want us to do this,” Charlie insists.
I’m wondering if Charlie remembers the time Sawyer beat the living snot out of Boone for touching his stuff. Maybe he thinks Sawyer isn’t coming back. Personally I think the Others will be sick of the redneck pretty soon.
“He’d want us to ransack his tent and take his stash?” I say all incredulous.
“Well, he stole all this stuff in the first place…I mean, people need food!” Charlie says as he riffles through a stack of playboys.
Personally I think Charlie’s just bored and restless. I reckon he’d like to be working on the church right now. That church was a good project for Charlie, man. It took care of all this twitchy energy he has. But it’s hard for him to make any progress without the big Nigerian there to lug hunks of wood up to the places Charlie can’t even reach. I think he’s pretty worried about his building buddy taking off again, but not wanting to show it since Eko ditched him and all.
“Charlie!” says a voice.
“Desmundo!” I answer on impulse.
Oh crap, I spoke too soon. Seems like Desmond hasn’t come to hang out with us and flip through magazines. Dude’s got a face like thunder.
“I need you to come with me,” he says, deadly serious.
Charlie shoots me his big-eyed innocent look. Like he is saying ‘Why me? What have I done?’ while he sits there with a handful of Sawyer’s swag. Hey, I don’t envy him. Desmond is sounding intense right now.
“Both of you…” Desmond adds.
Oh man. This sucks. Looks like I’ve got another lousy day on Craphole island ahead of me. Desmond is marching off down the beach. Me and Charlie follow a few paces behind him. It’s not like we can pretend we were doing anything important. He starts leading us into the jungle where all the funs at.
“There’s something fishy going on with this bloke,” Charlie mutters after we’ve been walking for a while. “Have you noticed it?”
Straight away I am thinking of the time when Desmond was talking about Locke’s speech a couple of hours before Locke actually made his speech. Man…that tripped me out. But still, I don’t want to be bitching about Desmond. I like the guy. And I kinda feel sorry for him because nobody has really welcomed him into the camp. They’re still giving him funny looks and a wide berth.
I shrug. “Listen dude, I think we’d all be a bit screwy if we had been stuck in a hatch pushing a button for as long as he was.”
“A bit screwy?” says Charlie. “He’s not got one screw fully tightened. The wheels are coming off his trolley, that’s for bleeding certain. But that’s not what I was talking about. There’s something else. Something creepy.”
I’m guessing that maybe Charlie doesn’t like Desmond because he’s had like…two friendly conversations with Claire. Man, since Claire took him back Charlie has been more weirdly possessive of her than ever. Still it seems like he has reason to be now. I’ve noticed a little hand holding going on. Even some kissing after dark. Dude, I’m happy for him. God knows he’s been pining. I just hope he doesn’t screw it up with all this demented jealousy crap.
“We’ve all got strange stuff about us, dude,” I say, sticking up for Desmond. “You shouldn’t be judging the guy. You don’t even know him.”
“Oh yeah?” Charlie raises up his eyebrows. “Take my word for it, Hurley. I know a lot more than you think…”
Now Charlie is looking at me all haughty like he’s got some big secret that he wants me to ask him about. Before I get the chance, Desmond hollers to us. He’s stopped in the middle of a clearing and is standing next to a big stick poking up from the ground. I can’t make sense of it at first, but it seems to trigger something in Charlie because right away he’s hurrying over to the stick. And now I’m thinking that the stick and the little mound of earth beside it look kinda like a grave. It only takes me another second to remember who the stick belonged to.
Looks like Eko bought it. The curse of Craphole island strikes again. Where the hell did I get Craphole island from? Oh yeah, Shannon used to say it. Now she’s dead too. Man, these people shouldn’t be camping on the same beach as me. Seriously. I keep telling them that I’m bad luck. Pretty soon it’ll just be me and the dog left to play Frisbee for the rest of our sorry lives.
“Are you okay, brother?”
Desmond is looking worriedly at Charlie. He reaches out and claps a hand on his shoulder. Charlie doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even move a muscle. All the colour has drained from his face. He’s looking all numb and empty. Desmond slowly takes his hand away and puts it in his pocket.
“We think it was a bear,” says Desmond. “That’s what Locke thought anyway. He decided we best bury him here. I don’t think he wanted to upset people with another funeral. It seems like you’ve had a run of them lately. Most people back at the camp haven’t been asking about him. I hear he was a late addition to your camp. A bit of an outsider. But I thought you ought to know Charlie.”
Charlie is just staring at the stick like he’s hypnotised by it. You can tell he’s shook up, because he’s sort of blanked out and gone inside himself like he always does when he’s…you know…devastated or whatever.
“I noticed how you were trying to help him when it was all going off in the hatch,” Desmond goes on. “I’m guessing he was your friend?”
Desmond waits for conformation, but he doesn’t get it, obviously, because Charlie is still all clammed up and zombie-eyed. So Desmond wanders over to me and we take ourselves off to the edge of the clearing.
“He’s in a bit of a trance over there,” says Desmond.
“He’ll snap out of it. He’s done this before.”
“Is that right?” Desmond looks like he wants to know more.
“You’ve heard about the Others, right? The secret society who like to kidnap us every once in a while? Well, they took Charlie this one time and kinda…hung him from a tree. Jack brought him back to life, but Charlie was really messed up afterwards. He just sat staring and wouldn’t talk to us.”
Desmond seems pretty disturbed by this. We both look at our shoes trying to figure out how we’re supposed to move on from that particular story.
“Did you know this Eko fella?” Desmond asks at last.
I shrug. I tended to avoid the big hulking guy with the ripped up shirt and the blood-covered stick, okay? It still sucks that he died though.
“But those two were close, right?” He nods towards Charlie.
“Eko and Charlie? I don’t know, dude. It’s like one day Eko was sort of menacing Charlie on the beach, waving this broken statue at him. Then about a week later they were building a church together. I mean working day and night, all off on their own, not hanging out with the rest of us. I didn’t see Charlie much in that time. Not until Eko stopped with the church and went all hatch-crazy.”
Maybe I let my voice get too loud because Charlie is looking over his shoulder and sort of scowling at me. I’m thinking I might be about to get bombarded by one of his rants, but instead he turns and stomps off in the direction of the beach. Desmond and me follow him as he cuts through the trees. It’s getting dark now. When we step out onto the sand, I notice that we’re all the way over by the signal fire, which is quite a distance from the camp. Rather than making towards the tents, Charlie sits himself down on the beach and stares out to sea.
Now I remember. This is Charlie’s spot. This is like his lonely spot where he comes when he is really pissed off or bummed out about something. Charlie came here a bunch of times after Claire got kidnapped by the psycho that lynched him. Later on he came here after Claire turfed him out for hoarding drugs.
“Maybe we should just leave him alone?” Desmond suggests.
I think back to the last time we left Charlie alone in this spot for too long. How all of a sudden he was stealing babies and setting fires.
“Charlie goes a little weird sometimes when he’s upset,” I explain to Desmond. “I’m thinking maybe we should keep an eye on him.”
“Alright,” Desmond nods. “We can camp out here tonight.”
“Cool,” I say. “I’ll go get us some blankets.”
“I’ll get the whiskey,” says Desmond.
Remember the Rain: Part Two
“Hey man. I thought you might want this.”
I’m holding out Charlie’s little black hoodie for him. It’s not all that cold, but the hoodie is like Charlie’s comforter or something. And when he puts the hood up he looks like a Sith Lord, which I totally dig.
Charlie doesn’t take the hoodie. He’s still ignoring the world and everything in it. Desmond sits next to him, gulping from a bottle of Dharma Scotch and babbling on about…Dickens novels or something.
Dude, I’m not sure I can take a whole night of this. I lay myself down on a blanket behind the two of them. Desmond turns to me with a big toothy grin and waves his whisky bottle from side to side.
“Come on, brother. You’ve some catching up to do!”
“No thanks, dude. I’m waiting for a crate of cold beers to fall from the sky.”
Desmond seems disappointed. “Looks like I’m at this booze up on my own then.” He takes another mouthful and then points the bottle at Charlie. “Are you sure you don’t fancy drowning your sorrows, brother?”
“I’m not your sodding brother,” say Charlie.
Hey! Charlie’s talking again. Knew we couldn’t keep him quiet forever.
Desmond nods, smiling. “Aye, you’ve got a point there. That’s just what I like to call people, friend. I grew up with three brothers so I suppose I just got used to saying it. What about you, Charlie? You got any brothers?”
Whoa dude…don’t even go there.
“For my sins I’ve got a brother,” mutters Charlie. “And I’m not looking for another one. Especially one who can’t stay sober for two minutes.”
Desmond looks hurt. Poor guy didn’t know he was hitting a nerve with the brother thing. Charlie’s told me a bit about Liam - like how he got him into drugs and then stole his piano. The guy sounds like a tool. But still I think Charlie’s lying when he says he’s not looking for another brother. He goes around playing little brother to almost every older guy on the island.
“I’m just trying to help, pal,” says Desmond. “It’s not healthy for you to be off on your own, not talking to people. I should know…”
Charlie stares at Desmond for a moment. Then he shuffles round to face him. Seems like Charlie’s conversational all of a sudden.
“Okay then,” he says. “If you want to talk, let’s talk. It just so happens that Hurley and I have some questions we’d like to ask you.”
“Yo dude! Why are you bringing me into this? I haven’t got any issues.”
“Quit lying, Hurley!” Charlie snaps. “I remember what you said on the beach. You were looking at him.” He jabs a finger at Desmond. “And you said you had déjà vu. You know damn well what I’m talking about.”
Desmond plants his bottle in the sand and leans in towards Charlie.
“Would you care to elaborate, brother?” he says.
“The rainstorm.” says Charlie. “You knew about that rain before it came. You knew where the lightning was going to strike. I saw your little experiment. Very impressive. Round of applause. But you knew about it then you could have at least told Claire so she could have taken the baby far away from there.”
Desmond splutters like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.
“If you remember I was trying to get Claire to move down the beach before you came over and gave me my marching orders! Did it not occur to you Charlie that I might have saved your lives with that lightning rod?”
I huddle down on my blanket and make out I’m sleeping. Which is, like, so not convincing, because seriously - nobody could sleep with these two going off at each other. Desmond is sort of gnashing his teeth while Charlie is giving him the stink-eye. Man, British people are so uptight.
“Sure. You’re a real bloody hero,” says Charlie, not at all sincerely. “Tell me, Des - what good were your super powers to Eko?”
“Eko?” says Desmond, confused by Charlie’s attitude. “What have I got to do with what happened to Mr Eko?”
“It wasn’t a bear that killed Eko,” says Charlie. “He survived the bear. No way does a man like that get taken down by a sodding polar bear anyway. I know exactly what killed him and I reckon you do to.”
Desmond shakes his head, rolling his eyes a little.
“You’ve got the wrong idea about me, Charlie boy,” he says. “I didn’t know anything about Eko’s death. I never saw it coming. I didn’t see it when it happened. I certainly didn’t see it before it happened.”
“I’ve seen it!” Charlie hisses. “I watched Eko stare it down! He wasn’t afraid of it. He stood his ground. It might have got him in the end, but at least he didn’t run. At least he didn’t hide. Most people would have run from that thing…even those who could have done something to save him.”
I’m totally lost now. I’m guessing that in the time Charlie hasn’t been talking, he’s been messing up his head with crazy theories about Eko’s death and how he thinks Desmond could have stopped it.
“Charlie, what do you want from me?” asks Desmond. “I’m not all seeing and all knowing. I’m not in control! I swear that if I had seen something then I would have done something. I’d help any of you if I could!”
“Bollocks mate. You’re not interested in helping us. About a month back you pissed off on your sodding sail boat. Didn’t offer it to the women and children now did you? You were too busy saving yourself. You left us with your doomsday computer going haywire. You didn’t give a toss.”
Desmond swallows. “I came back though. That day in the hatch…I tried to help! I tried to save us all. I…I blew the dam!”
Charlie squints at him. “You what?”
“The failsafe. I turned the key!”
“Oh really? And what happened then?”
Desmond shakes his head, like he’s giving up on trying to explain. He picks up his bottle and starts walking away towards the signal fire. Charlie shoots me a smug look like he thinks he’s won the argument. Then instead of piping down he gets to his feet and starts ragging Desmond some more.
“Hey, I don’t know what you’re doing,” he calls after him. “You best tell us!”
Desmond doesn’t react to this, which makes Charlie even antsier.
“Oi! Don’t walk away from me! I don’t know how you’re doing what it is you’re doing, but I know a coward when I see one.”
Desmond spins around with this real scary-ass look on his face. I can remember being mad at Charlie this one time when he kept calling me a nutjob, but Desmond looks ten times more pissed at Charlie calling him a coward. Before I know what’s happening Desmond charges at Charlie, ramming into his shoulder. Charlie’s sneakers are lifted off the sand for a moment before he lands sprawling on his back. Desmond’s got him pinned like a cat that’s just pounced on its prey.
“You don’t want to know what happened to me!” Desmond yells in Charlie’s face. “When I turned that key…”
“Get off!” Charlie screams.
“You don’t want to know what happened to me…”
Jesus, man! Desmond’s losing it. He’s got Charlie by the throat and he won’t let him go. Seeing Charlie being throttled makes me think of that week when he was walking round with a big ugly rope burn on his neck.
I’m on my feet, grabbing Desmond around his chest and trying to wrench him off Charlie. I can’t move him. It’s like they’re super-glued together. And now I can see that Desmond’s thumbs are really digging into Charlie’s windpipe. Charlie’s face is all screwed up and turning red.
“Dude, you’re killing him!” I yell.
As soon as I say that Desmond yanks his hands away - like he hadn’t realised and the thought of it really frightens him. I pull him to his feet and drag him back a little. Now Desmond is just sobbing and trembling in my arms like all the fight has gone out of him. Whatever is going on with Desmond it must be heavy, because as I’m holding him it feels like he is just aching inside.
Charlie is already getting to his feet, gulping for air and rubbing his shoulder. Tough little guy Charlie. You wouldn’t think it to look at him but his puny body can take a lot of punishment. Which is a good thing, I guess, because he’s always asking for it. Predictably he’s looking knarked about getting his ass-kicked, but when he sees Desmond crying, he softens up a little.
“Do you remember the rain?” says Charlie, his voice calm all of a sudden. “I didn’t remember at first, Desmond, but when the storm came and the lightning…I remembered then. But you don’t remember me, do you?”
Desmond’s sobbing starts to die down. He looks at Charlie in confusion. I’m staring at him too because I’m beginning to feel like I’ve just skipped over five pages at once. Charlie has that haughty look in his eyes again.
“I was just out of Manchester,” Charlie explains. “Living in a poxy London bedsit and busking on street corners. One day I was playing outside the tube station when this mad Scotsman comes up to me, insisting that he knows me. Like we are old friends. He starts raving about us being on an island together. Then he says something about rain...and at that same moment it starts bucketing down.”
Desmond steps out of my arms. He’s frowning and shaking his head like he’s trying to jolt some memory back into place.
“That was you, Desmond,” says Charlie. “You knew about the rain all those years ago, just like you knew about the storm and where the lightning was going to hit. You knew we were going to end up on this island too right?”
Desmond eyes go wide. It seems like something has clicked into place.
“Aye, brother…” he says with an air of sadness in his voice. “I remembered you asking me for help in the hatch. And I remembered the two of us standing together on this beach in the rain…”
Charlie frowns. “What do you mean in the…”
Before Charlie finishes these words, I feel something brush against my cheeks. Two drops at first and then suddenly the clouds burst and it’s a downpour. Dude, you have got to be kidding me. Rain is, like, pounding the sand all around us, drenching our clothes. Desmond turns his head up to the skies, holding out his arms and laughing to himself, letting the rain fall into his open mouth.
Charlie stands rooted to the spot, his eyes bulging out of his skull. He’s looking at Desmond like he’s the new Messiah or something. Come to think of it with his beard and long hair Desmond does look kind of Jesusy. Especially when he’s standing with his arms stretched out like that.
Desmond shakes himself like a wet dog and strolls over to Charlie. He puts his hands on Charlie’s shoulders - like the two of them really are good friends, even if Charlie doesn’t know it yet.
“Aye brother,” he says. “I remember now.”
The End
Name: Falafel
Title: Remember the Rain
Summary: Desmond takes Charlie and Hurley to see Mr Eko's grave. Later in the evening they make camp together on the beach and Charlie confronts Desmond about his mysterious powers and a half-remembered meeting.
Characters: Hurley, Charlie and Desmond. Hurley narration.
Word Count: 3825
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost.
Warnings: A brief moment of violence.
Author's Note: I wrote this story long before 'Flashes before your Eyes' aired. It was based on spoilers and promo clips for that episode. Obviously the show turned out quite differently, but I still enjoy this fic for its Hurley narration and the fact that Mr Eko gets a little more mourning. I have made a few edits and alterations so this story fits better with the canon, but it is still doing its own thing.
Remember the Rain: Part One
Dude, what a week…
This is probably the crappiest week I’ve had on this island since crash landing here, which is up against some stiff competition. If I think too hard about Libby dying or Michael turning evil or the jungle mafia waving their guns at us I’m gonna drive myself nuts. I need to take my mind off the things. I need to distract myself with something goofy. I go looking for Charlie.
He’s usually hovering around Claire’s tent, but she and the baby are sleeping right now and there’s no sign of him on the beach. I’m thinking about looking for lunch instead when I spy Charlie sitting in the middle of Sawyer’s tent with the famous stash spread out all around him. Charlie looks up at me and smirks like he thinks he’s being really badass. I’m thinking he looks more like a kid stealing cookies. He asks me to come join him. I figure I might as well.
“Dude, I don’t know about this…” I say after about ten minutes of watching Charlie toss around stuff belonging to a guy who’s probably getting tortured by the Others right now.
“He would want us to do this,” Charlie insists.
I’m wondering if Charlie remembers the time Sawyer beat the living snot out of Boone for touching his stuff. Maybe he thinks Sawyer isn’t coming back. Personally I think the Others will be sick of the redneck pretty soon.
“He’d want us to ransack his tent and take his stash?” I say all incredulous.
“Well, he stole all this stuff in the first place…I mean, people need food!” Charlie says as he riffles through a stack of playboys.
Personally I think Charlie’s just bored and restless. I reckon he’d like to be working on the church right now. That church was a good project for Charlie, man. It took care of all this twitchy energy he has. But it’s hard for him to make any progress without the big Nigerian there to lug hunks of wood up to the places Charlie can’t even reach. I think he’s pretty worried about his building buddy taking off again, but not wanting to show it since Eko ditched him and all.
“Charlie!” says a voice.
“Desmundo!” I answer on impulse.
Oh crap, I spoke too soon. Seems like Desmond hasn’t come to hang out with us and flip through magazines. Dude’s got a face like thunder.
“I need you to come with me,” he says, deadly serious.
Charlie shoots me his big-eyed innocent look. Like he is saying ‘Why me? What have I done?’ while he sits there with a handful of Sawyer’s swag. Hey, I don’t envy him. Desmond is sounding intense right now.
“Both of you…” Desmond adds.
Oh man. This sucks. Looks like I’ve got another lousy day on Craphole island ahead of me. Desmond is marching off down the beach. Me and Charlie follow a few paces behind him. It’s not like we can pretend we were doing anything important. He starts leading us into the jungle where all the funs at.
“There’s something fishy going on with this bloke,” Charlie mutters after we’ve been walking for a while. “Have you noticed it?”
Straight away I am thinking of the time when Desmond was talking about Locke’s speech a couple of hours before Locke actually made his speech. Man…that tripped me out. But still, I don’t want to be bitching about Desmond. I like the guy. And I kinda feel sorry for him because nobody has really welcomed him into the camp. They’re still giving him funny looks and a wide berth.
I shrug. “Listen dude, I think we’d all be a bit screwy if we had been stuck in a hatch pushing a button for as long as he was.”
“A bit screwy?” says Charlie. “He’s not got one screw fully tightened. The wheels are coming off his trolley, that’s for bleeding certain. But that’s not what I was talking about. There’s something else. Something creepy.”
I’m guessing that maybe Charlie doesn’t like Desmond because he’s had like…two friendly conversations with Claire. Man, since Claire took him back Charlie has been more weirdly possessive of her than ever. Still it seems like he has reason to be now. I’ve noticed a little hand holding going on. Even some kissing after dark. Dude, I’m happy for him. God knows he’s been pining. I just hope he doesn’t screw it up with all this demented jealousy crap.
“We’ve all got strange stuff about us, dude,” I say, sticking up for Desmond. “You shouldn’t be judging the guy. You don’t even know him.”
“Oh yeah?” Charlie raises up his eyebrows. “Take my word for it, Hurley. I know a lot more than you think…”
Now Charlie is looking at me all haughty like he’s got some big secret that he wants me to ask him about. Before I get the chance, Desmond hollers to us. He’s stopped in the middle of a clearing and is standing next to a big stick poking up from the ground. I can’t make sense of it at first, but it seems to trigger something in Charlie because right away he’s hurrying over to the stick. And now I’m thinking that the stick and the little mound of earth beside it look kinda like a grave. It only takes me another second to remember who the stick belonged to.
Looks like Eko bought it. The curse of Craphole island strikes again. Where the hell did I get Craphole island from? Oh yeah, Shannon used to say it. Now she’s dead too. Man, these people shouldn’t be camping on the same beach as me. Seriously. I keep telling them that I’m bad luck. Pretty soon it’ll just be me and the dog left to play Frisbee for the rest of our sorry lives.
“Are you okay, brother?”
Desmond is looking worriedly at Charlie. He reaches out and claps a hand on his shoulder. Charlie doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even move a muscle. All the colour has drained from his face. He’s looking all numb and empty. Desmond slowly takes his hand away and puts it in his pocket.
“We think it was a bear,” says Desmond. “That’s what Locke thought anyway. He decided we best bury him here. I don’t think he wanted to upset people with another funeral. It seems like you’ve had a run of them lately. Most people back at the camp haven’t been asking about him. I hear he was a late addition to your camp. A bit of an outsider. But I thought you ought to know Charlie.”
Charlie is just staring at the stick like he’s hypnotised by it. You can tell he’s shook up, because he’s sort of blanked out and gone inside himself like he always does when he’s…you know…devastated or whatever.
“I noticed how you were trying to help him when it was all going off in the hatch,” Desmond goes on. “I’m guessing he was your friend?”
Desmond waits for conformation, but he doesn’t get it, obviously, because Charlie is still all clammed up and zombie-eyed. So Desmond wanders over to me and we take ourselves off to the edge of the clearing.
“He’s in a bit of a trance over there,” says Desmond.
“He’ll snap out of it. He’s done this before.”
“Is that right?” Desmond looks like he wants to know more.
“You’ve heard about the Others, right? The secret society who like to kidnap us every once in a while? Well, they took Charlie this one time and kinda…hung him from a tree. Jack brought him back to life, but Charlie was really messed up afterwards. He just sat staring and wouldn’t talk to us.”
Desmond seems pretty disturbed by this. We both look at our shoes trying to figure out how we’re supposed to move on from that particular story.
“Did you know this Eko fella?” Desmond asks at last.
I shrug. I tended to avoid the big hulking guy with the ripped up shirt and the blood-covered stick, okay? It still sucks that he died though.
“But those two were close, right?” He nods towards Charlie.
“Eko and Charlie? I don’t know, dude. It’s like one day Eko was sort of menacing Charlie on the beach, waving this broken statue at him. Then about a week later they were building a church together. I mean working day and night, all off on their own, not hanging out with the rest of us. I didn’t see Charlie much in that time. Not until Eko stopped with the church and went all hatch-crazy.”
Maybe I let my voice get too loud because Charlie is looking over his shoulder and sort of scowling at me. I’m thinking I might be about to get bombarded by one of his rants, but instead he turns and stomps off in the direction of the beach. Desmond and me follow him as he cuts through the trees. It’s getting dark now. When we step out onto the sand, I notice that we’re all the way over by the signal fire, which is quite a distance from the camp. Rather than making towards the tents, Charlie sits himself down on the beach and stares out to sea.
Now I remember. This is Charlie’s spot. This is like his lonely spot where he comes when he is really pissed off or bummed out about something. Charlie came here a bunch of times after Claire got kidnapped by the psycho that lynched him. Later on he came here after Claire turfed him out for hoarding drugs.
“Maybe we should just leave him alone?” Desmond suggests.
I think back to the last time we left Charlie alone in this spot for too long. How all of a sudden he was stealing babies and setting fires.
“Charlie goes a little weird sometimes when he’s upset,” I explain to Desmond. “I’m thinking maybe we should keep an eye on him.”
“Alright,” Desmond nods. “We can camp out here tonight.”
“Cool,” I say. “I’ll go get us some blankets.”
“I’ll get the whiskey,” says Desmond.
Remember the Rain: Part Two
“Hey man. I thought you might want this.”
I’m holding out Charlie’s little black hoodie for him. It’s not all that cold, but the hoodie is like Charlie’s comforter or something. And when he puts the hood up he looks like a Sith Lord, which I totally dig.
Charlie doesn’t take the hoodie. He’s still ignoring the world and everything in it. Desmond sits next to him, gulping from a bottle of Dharma Scotch and babbling on about…Dickens novels or something.
Dude, I’m not sure I can take a whole night of this. I lay myself down on a blanket behind the two of them. Desmond turns to me with a big toothy grin and waves his whisky bottle from side to side.
“Come on, brother. You’ve some catching up to do!”
“No thanks, dude. I’m waiting for a crate of cold beers to fall from the sky.”
Desmond seems disappointed. “Looks like I’m at this booze up on my own then.” He takes another mouthful and then points the bottle at Charlie. “Are you sure you don’t fancy drowning your sorrows, brother?”
“I’m not your sodding brother,” say Charlie.
Hey! Charlie’s talking again. Knew we couldn’t keep him quiet forever.
Desmond nods, smiling. “Aye, you’ve got a point there. That’s just what I like to call people, friend. I grew up with three brothers so I suppose I just got used to saying it. What about you, Charlie? You got any brothers?”
Whoa dude…don’t even go there.
“For my sins I’ve got a brother,” mutters Charlie. “And I’m not looking for another one. Especially one who can’t stay sober for two minutes.”
Desmond looks hurt. Poor guy didn’t know he was hitting a nerve with the brother thing. Charlie’s told me a bit about Liam - like how he got him into drugs and then stole his piano. The guy sounds like a tool. But still I think Charlie’s lying when he says he’s not looking for another brother. He goes around playing little brother to almost every older guy on the island.
“I’m just trying to help, pal,” says Desmond. “It’s not healthy for you to be off on your own, not talking to people. I should know…”
Charlie stares at Desmond for a moment. Then he shuffles round to face him. Seems like Charlie’s conversational all of a sudden.
“Okay then,” he says. “If you want to talk, let’s talk. It just so happens that Hurley and I have some questions we’d like to ask you.”
“Yo dude! Why are you bringing me into this? I haven’t got any issues.”
“Quit lying, Hurley!” Charlie snaps. “I remember what you said on the beach. You were looking at him.” He jabs a finger at Desmond. “And you said you had déjà vu. You know damn well what I’m talking about.”
Desmond plants his bottle in the sand and leans in towards Charlie.
“Would you care to elaborate, brother?” he says.
“The rainstorm.” says Charlie. “You knew about that rain before it came. You knew where the lightning was going to strike. I saw your little experiment. Very impressive. Round of applause. But you knew about it then you could have at least told Claire so she could have taken the baby far away from there.”
Desmond splutters like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.
“If you remember I was trying to get Claire to move down the beach before you came over and gave me my marching orders! Did it not occur to you Charlie that I might have saved your lives with that lightning rod?”
I huddle down on my blanket and make out I’m sleeping. Which is, like, so not convincing, because seriously - nobody could sleep with these two going off at each other. Desmond is sort of gnashing his teeth while Charlie is giving him the stink-eye. Man, British people are so uptight.
“Sure. You’re a real bloody hero,” says Charlie, not at all sincerely. “Tell me, Des - what good were your super powers to Eko?”
“Eko?” says Desmond, confused by Charlie’s attitude. “What have I got to do with what happened to Mr Eko?”
“It wasn’t a bear that killed Eko,” says Charlie. “He survived the bear. No way does a man like that get taken down by a sodding polar bear anyway. I know exactly what killed him and I reckon you do to.”
Desmond shakes his head, rolling his eyes a little.
“You’ve got the wrong idea about me, Charlie boy,” he says. “I didn’t know anything about Eko’s death. I never saw it coming. I didn’t see it when it happened. I certainly didn’t see it before it happened.”
“I’ve seen it!” Charlie hisses. “I watched Eko stare it down! He wasn’t afraid of it. He stood his ground. It might have got him in the end, but at least he didn’t run. At least he didn’t hide. Most people would have run from that thing…even those who could have done something to save him.”
I’m totally lost now. I’m guessing that in the time Charlie hasn’t been talking, he’s been messing up his head with crazy theories about Eko’s death and how he thinks Desmond could have stopped it.
“Charlie, what do you want from me?” asks Desmond. “I’m not all seeing and all knowing. I’m not in control! I swear that if I had seen something then I would have done something. I’d help any of you if I could!”
“Bollocks mate. You’re not interested in helping us. About a month back you pissed off on your sodding sail boat. Didn’t offer it to the women and children now did you? You were too busy saving yourself. You left us with your doomsday computer going haywire. You didn’t give a toss.”
Desmond swallows. “I came back though. That day in the hatch…I tried to help! I tried to save us all. I…I blew the dam!”
Charlie squints at him. “You what?”
“The failsafe. I turned the key!”
“Oh really? And what happened then?”
Desmond shakes his head, like he’s giving up on trying to explain. He picks up his bottle and starts walking away towards the signal fire. Charlie shoots me a smug look like he thinks he’s won the argument. Then instead of piping down he gets to his feet and starts ragging Desmond some more.
“Hey, I don’t know what you’re doing,” he calls after him. “You best tell us!”
Desmond doesn’t react to this, which makes Charlie even antsier.
“Oi! Don’t walk away from me! I don’t know how you’re doing what it is you’re doing, but I know a coward when I see one.”
Desmond spins around with this real scary-ass look on his face. I can remember being mad at Charlie this one time when he kept calling me a nutjob, but Desmond looks ten times more pissed at Charlie calling him a coward. Before I know what’s happening Desmond charges at Charlie, ramming into his shoulder. Charlie’s sneakers are lifted off the sand for a moment before he lands sprawling on his back. Desmond’s got him pinned like a cat that’s just pounced on its prey.
“You don’t want to know what happened to me!” Desmond yells in Charlie’s face. “When I turned that key…”
“Get off!” Charlie screams.
“You don’t want to know what happened to me…”
Jesus, man! Desmond’s losing it. He’s got Charlie by the throat and he won’t let him go. Seeing Charlie being throttled makes me think of that week when he was walking round with a big ugly rope burn on his neck.
I’m on my feet, grabbing Desmond around his chest and trying to wrench him off Charlie. I can’t move him. It’s like they’re super-glued together. And now I can see that Desmond’s thumbs are really digging into Charlie’s windpipe. Charlie’s face is all screwed up and turning red.
“Dude, you’re killing him!” I yell.
As soon as I say that Desmond yanks his hands away - like he hadn’t realised and the thought of it really frightens him. I pull him to his feet and drag him back a little. Now Desmond is just sobbing and trembling in my arms like all the fight has gone out of him. Whatever is going on with Desmond it must be heavy, because as I’m holding him it feels like he is just aching inside.
Charlie is already getting to his feet, gulping for air and rubbing his shoulder. Tough little guy Charlie. You wouldn’t think it to look at him but his puny body can take a lot of punishment. Which is a good thing, I guess, because he’s always asking for it. Predictably he’s looking knarked about getting his ass-kicked, but when he sees Desmond crying, he softens up a little.
“Do you remember the rain?” says Charlie, his voice calm all of a sudden. “I didn’t remember at first, Desmond, but when the storm came and the lightning…I remembered then. But you don’t remember me, do you?”
Desmond’s sobbing starts to die down. He looks at Charlie in confusion. I’m staring at him too because I’m beginning to feel like I’ve just skipped over five pages at once. Charlie has that haughty look in his eyes again.
“I was just out of Manchester,” Charlie explains. “Living in a poxy London bedsit and busking on street corners. One day I was playing outside the tube station when this mad Scotsman comes up to me, insisting that he knows me. Like we are old friends. He starts raving about us being on an island together. Then he says something about rain...and at that same moment it starts bucketing down.”
Desmond steps out of my arms. He’s frowning and shaking his head like he’s trying to jolt some memory back into place.
“That was you, Desmond,” says Charlie. “You knew about the rain all those years ago, just like you knew about the storm and where the lightning was going to hit. You knew we were going to end up on this island too right?”
Desmond eyes go wide. It seems like something has clicked into place.
“Aye, brother…” he says with an air of sadness in his voice. “I remembered you asking me for help in the hatch. And I remembered the two of us standing together on this beach in the rain…”
Charlie frowns. “What do you mean in the…”
Before Charlie finishes these words, I feel something brush against my cheeks. Two drops at first and then suddenly the clouds burst and it’s a downpour. Dude, you have got to be kidding me. Rain is, like, pounding the sand all around us, drenching our clothes. Desmond turns his head up to the skies, holding out his arms and laughing to himself, letting the rain fall into his open mouth.
Charlie stands rooted to the spot, his eyes bulging out of his skull. He’s looking at Desmond like he’s the new Messiah or something. Come to think of it with his beard and long hair Desmond does look kind of Jesusy. Especially when he’s standing with his arms stretched out like that.
Desmond shakes himself like a wet dog and strolls over to Charlie. He puts his hands on Charlie’s shoulders - like the two of them really are good friends, even if Charlie doesn’t know it yet.
“Aye brother,” he says. “I remember now.”
The End