Lost: "Home" (Ensemble) CHAPTER 4
Title: Home
Chapter: Four
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairings: All season one characters, Michael Dawson, Walt Lloyd, Vincent, John Locke
Rating: PG
Narrative: Michael's POV, third person
Genre: General, Romance
Length: 8 chapters
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Season one
Disclaimer: I do not own Lost or the characters
Author's Note: Part 4
Summary: The survivors have finally been rescued, but everyone has mixed emotions about leaving. Part 4.
CHAPTER FOUR: Goodbye For Good
Even though Michael wasn’t one to gloat, he couldn’t help but pat himself on the back a little. He was the reason why everyone was here. He was the reason why he was standing with Walt and Vincent in a building full of people, rather than on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere. He’ll admit he that he hadn’t built the raft himself, many had helped, however, it had been his idea, he had done most of the work himself. He was exceptionally proud of himself. If he didn’t have moral standards against gloating, he would be making sure that everybody thanked him. Even John Locke. As he waltzed through the terminal, keeping his son close, he realised he had a lot to thank the island for. Even John Locke. However, he would never stoop so low as to apologise for his behaviour towards Locke, even less chance was Michael thanking him. It was true that Locke had been most, well, part of the reason that Walt had survived the polar bear incident, and had found Vincent, and had helped bring Michael and Walt together…but Michael would never thank him. Even though Locke did some good things, he did many bad, for instance, the cause of Boone’s death. Locke didn’t deserve Michael’s praise, as he was a bad influence. He carried four hundred knives around with him for goodness sakes!
“Well, I’ll never have to worry about him again!” thought Michael happily.
Walt stared around the terminal in confusion.
“Dad, why do so many people look so sad?” Michael looked around him, and indeed, Walt was right. Many people did look very glum, some to the point of tears. Michael opened his mouth, but closed it again, as he realised he did not have an answer to Walt’s question. Why were they upset? Did they not want to get off the island? Michael thought back to a poem he had read about a mouse. Some of the lines that had stuck out to him were:
‘The best laid schemes of mice and men, gang aft agley, bring nought but grief and pain for promised joy’. Was this poem relevant somehow? Yes, Michael thought so. It had been expressed that the biggest ambition of all the survivors was to get off the island. If that happened, then all their troubles would vanish and they would be joyous. The raft had been successful. Yet they were sorrowful. Why was this true? Why were so many people upset? If Michael himself did not understand, then how could he explain it to Walt?
“They’re tears of happiness, Walt.” Walt frowned at his dad, and replied,
“I’m 10, not 2.” Michael chuckled slightly and carried on his path. Walt followed, with Vincent in tow. All Vincent wanted was a dog biscuit, but he didn’t know quite how to express his aspirations to these humans. It was also incredibly annoying that he had just been on the most boring journey of his life in some kind of aircraft, then there so much noise he couldn’t hear himself bark, and now he was hungry and strangled by a piece of string yanking at his neck.
“What’ll happen if I knock this kid down and run for it? Oh, he looks like a wonderful, tasty, gigantic treat!” Vincent drooled and plodded slowly along after his master.
As Michael reached the exit of the airport, he was indignant that many of the other survivors had beaten him. It had been his raft, so why did they get to leave first? Michael was about to stomp out of the airport when he noticed that Locke was talking to his son.
“Hey, dad, I’m just saying goodbye to Mr. Locke.” Walt grinned, and John attempted to smile at Michael.
“Yeah, well, make it quick. We have lots to do.”
“Ok dad. Goodbye, Mr. Locke.” Walt hugged John around his waist. John seemed surprised at first, but then returned the embrace. “Come visit!” Michael accidentally let a little groan escape from his lips.
“Sure I will.” John knew Michael would never let him enter the same street. “Well, you three best be off.”
“Bye!” Walt called, as he, Michael, and Vincent clambered into a waiting taxi outside the airport. John spied Michael giving Sun a nod of recognition, with she returned with a warm smile. John watched as they drove away, and decided to purchase a well-deserved, over-priced coffee.