Stranger Danger
"My Mum taught me not to talk to strangers."
"Not following it too well, are you? You're talking to me."
"I don't think you got my point."
"Which is?"
"Bugger off."
The pain is ever present. The sharp pang that hits her now is a reminder of it, like the tap on the shoulder of a dignitary watching a play, the whispered notice that there's something larger going on than these amusing vignettes. Then comes the high-pitched crescendo, the blinding flash of light -- and the dignitary resumes watching the play.
He's well-dressed, a bit handsome, but unreadable. That makes her uneasy, the uncertainty of whether what lies beneath his polished veneer is malicious. But she's a professional. She smiles, shakes his hand, maintains that smile-to-subconscious contact to sell herself, practically perfect in every way.
"I've been following your work, Ms. Lewis."
"Have you? I'm flattered. I mean, I've had a short career, but--"
"Forgive me for saying, but it seems your focus is not on ancient civilizations?"
Her shoulders tense, momentarily. "Not every anthropologist is interested in the past."
"But you are."
Her shoulders tensed again. She didn't like the way this man was looking through her, looking past her, as if he had read and memorized her file some time ago and was waiting for a sign from her to confirm what he already knew. "Mr. Abbaddon, may I ask why you came to see me?"
"It's my understanding that you've been searching for the DHARMA Initiative."
Charlotte felt the capacity to speak vanish from her, leaving her throat clenched and her mouth open and dry. Mr. Abbaddon leaned forward, his hands folded on top of the table. "What if I told you that there's a way to get onto the island where they were based?"
Sometimes she's aware of the bed of vegetation she lays on, the canopy of trees above her, and the steady presence of Daniel Faraday besides her. He is holding her hand, has been holding her hand, and is stroking her hair, and is telling her nothing --
But she feels safe beside him. She feels --
Frightened.
He has long hair and a beard and wild eyes and a wild look. Mum had told her not to talk to strangers, and she had been pitiful. He had come to her, had ran to her, shouting at her and coming closer despite the tears in her eyes and the screams --
He has his hands on her shoulders, his face inches away from hers. She's crying, she's calling for her mother; he's screaming, he's saying "Don't ever come back to the Island! Don't ever come back! You'll die! If you come back to this Island, you'll die!"
-- a sharp pang in her head, and hears a high-pitched whine and sees the light grow brighter --
-- and then Daniel Faraday is no longer by her side. She's alone, on a bed of grass, staring at a canopy of trees that may be different, may be the same, she doesn't know --
"I didn't make it up! I know it's real!"
They were both hoarse from shouting and wet from crying. Despite this, neither of them showed sign of backing down.
"Why do you keep lying?"
"I'm not lying, Charlotte! You're delusional. You've always been delusional, going on about that bloody Island when you know it's all in your damned head! Christ, Charlotte. You're 18 years old! It's time you stopped believing in fairy tales!"
"It's not a fairy tale, mom! I know -- I know it's real! It was real. The house was real, the Island was real, the DHARMA Initiative -- it was all real! And my father..."
"Your father is David."
"My father is not David! You left my father behind!"
"I did no such thing, Charlotte!"
"You're a liar."
"You're delusional."
-- she's not sure where she is, or when, because she doesn't know where and when she'll be at any given moment. One minute she's in Bromsgrove, playing with her little sisters, the next she's having an all nighter in Oxford and the next she's on the freighter, playing cards with Dan. But she is, to those who see her, a pale woman lying on the ground in the jungle, a stream of blood flowing from her nose, talking about who knows what and to who knows who.
[ ooc: Charlotte is suffering from major side-effects caused by rapidly bouncing to and from different points in time. Her mind has been thrown so off course that she's reliving memories. As such, she won't be terribly coherent in conversation, and will go off on strange tangents. ]