Part 290: Must be Fate

Isabella gently twisted the can opener and poured the creamed corn into the pan. She then placed it on the stove and heated it up, preparing to cook. Marita had finished with the beans, so she began to wash her hands. “I can’t believe you guys have lived off of canned food for three years.” She said, washing her hands with soap.

“It takes some getting used to.” The Spanish woman laughed, “I would love some rotisserie chicken though.”

“We were just talking about which food we missed the other day. I said ice cream.”

“Oh, My god, real ice cream! I would almost kill for some.”

“As opposed to FAKE ice cream?” the Latina giggled.

“You laugh but it’s been our only snack here,” Isabella then walked over to another cabinet and reached in for something.

She then pulled out a silver bag and then tossed it to Marita. After the young woman caught it, she looked it over then flipped it around to read the label. “Freeze dried chocolate ice cream?” she marveled.

“Yeah, whoever ran Broadway before us must have thrived on that stuff. There are tons of boxes of it in storage.” Isabella laughed.

“I guess then it’s no surprise what’s for desert.” Marita smiled.



Outside McKay was on the back end of the boat, opening up the access panel to the engine. He had just found the oil access and pulled out the stick to check it. It looked like the Liberation members had kept the boat in pretty good working order. As the Australian put the dip-stick back in it’s slot, Sayid came up from below deck. “I managed to find five gas cans,” the Iraqi told him, “Two large ones and three smalls ones. There is a closet down there which they now occupy.”

“Good work, Sayid,” McKay slid the engine cover back, “That should hopefully get us a decent way upon the full gas tank we got now.”

Sayid wiped his hands and tossed the rag onto the dock. “Has . . .Jack or any of the others mentioned who leaves on this boat?” he whispered.

“Not yet,” the Australian replied, “I have a bad feeling that they are avoiding the issue.”

“It will have to be dealt with sooner or later.”

“I agree, but right now, we should worry about those soldiers coming back.”

Sayid and McKay picked up their weapons and walked down the dock back to dry land. The soldier Moon was still tied and gagged to the tree, half asleep. As they walked past him, Sawyer came into view, loading up his shotgun. “You guys gonna keep an eye out for the returning Liberators?” he asked.

“Yeah, we are going to set up two posts,” McKay said, “You helping us out?”

“You bet. Where you need me?”

“You and Me will take the south end post,” the Australian pointed, “Sayid, do me a favor and inform Tony, Jack and the others that, just in case, the boat is ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”

“Understood,” the Iraqi said, “I will take the West end post when I return.”

Sayid began his walk back into the metal facility while Sawyer and McKay made their way to the cabin by the end of the road. The Australian walked in and coughed, knocking down the small amount of cobwebs that plagued the room. The southern man by his side found a spot and sat down. McKay walked over to the window and wiped away the smudges, so he could see the full view of the dirt road. “We should be able to see them coming with no problem,” he mentioned to his companion.

“It’s just five of them,” Sawyer retorted, “It could be worse. It could be a whole other damn legion like Fender’s group.”

“Don’t be so overconfident, Sawyer. You can’t predict the future.”

“You’re damn right about that.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

McKay looked at him and studied his face. It told him more than the redneck realize. “Kate say something you didn’t want to hear?” he asked.

Sawyer opened his eyes in surprise and looked at his friend. “How the hell did you know that?” he asked.

“Powers of observation,” the Australian smiled, “Comes with the territory of being a teacher. You were in there with Kate for a while. What did she say?”

“Doesn’t matter. I think . . .she wasn’t sure what she was saying, cause of the morphine.”

“Look, Sawyer, it’s painfully obvious you like her. You should just tell her.”

“I have told her, McKay.”

“No, you haven’t. You danced around it, you flirted with her and you thrown innuendo in her face. But you never ACTUALLY told her you like her.”

Sawyer closed his eyes and banged his head against the wall twice. “It’s not that simple,” he whispered, “I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

McKay then started to laugh. He covered his eyes, trying to suppress his laugh but seeing he was failing. “What the hell is so damn funny?” Sawyer grunted.

“Irony. Irony is funny,” McKay replied, “I recall telling a good friend of mine the exact same advice. Sawyer, if you are waiting for the right moment to tell a girl you like her, you are in for a long wait.”

Sawyer looked at his friend and then just smirked. He half wanted to tell him he was right but didn’t feel the need so he kept quiet. McKay turned his attention back toward the road, expecting the soldiers to arrive in the next fours or so. Locke said it might take a day but the Australian was paranoid. Still, he felt at ease with the situation cause Sawyer said it best. There was only five soldiers and they had defeated much more worse odds. All he could think about was getting on the boat and taking the majority of his friends out of there.


Desmond rummaged around in his gear. He had placed all the stuff he had accumulated in various boxes around his makeshift room, which he at then shared with Isabella. Jack looked at some of the stuff around the room, interested in his antique style. There was even one of those crazy clocks shaped like Felix the cat, then looked left to right between the ticks of a second. Tony rested in a conversation chair, built to have two chairs facing side to side. “It’s like living in a seventies museum.” He replied.

“It has it’s uniqueness, brother,” Desmond said, pulling out his knapsack, “ But there are many things I miss. The Weather Channel for one.”

“You watched the Weather Channel?” Jack laughed, “For fun?”

“Perfect thing to fall asleep to at night.” The stranger smiled, pulling stuff out of his bag and setting it aside.

“You’ll get back to it one day, Desmond.” The blind doctor assured.

“No doubt, Tony. But in the meantime, I am happy being here. At least I don’t have to pay taxes.”

“Paying taxes.” Jack sighed, “I guess that will be something to do once we get back home.”

“Like I said, my friends. If I didn’t have to care for my son, I would be on the boat with you.”

“Not going back to this race of yours?” Jack smiled.

Desmond then stopped what he was doing and then looked up Jack. The doctor faced him innocently, not sure why he was looking at him. “I remember you now” Desmond said, “ My race . . I know you . . I met you . . .Los Angeles. I was training, yeah? You twisted your ankle...at the stadium.”

“Small world, eh?” Jack sighed, leaning against the wall.

“Too small,” Tony whispered, realized he head Jack true. The two of them did know each other.

“You’re a doctor, yeah? There was this girl . . .you were worried . . .you said, you said you failed her. That was you, wasn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter now, Desmond.”

“Was she okay, the girl?”

“It really doesn’t matter,” Jack replied, trying to change the subject.

“What happened to this girl, Jack?” Tony said, at that moment curious.

“It doesn’t matter, Tony. Honestly.”

“What do you say it doesn’t matter?” Desmond replied, “I mean, Jack, this girl much have meant something to you-“

“I married her!” Jack finally confessed, trying to suppress his tears.

Tony said nothing; he could hear the sadness in his friends voice. Desmond went quiet, understanding at that moment why Jack didn’t want to talk about it. “Right, and you're not married to her anymore, then?” he asked.

“No,” the doctor said, wiping his eyes, “No I am not.”

“You didn’t fail, Jack. Some things are just never meant to-“

“I DID fail her, Tony,” Jack retorted, “She needed more than my love, she needed my devotion and I couldn’t give that to her. I needed . . .Jenny to remind me of that.”

“Who is Jenny?” Desmond asked.

“My wife’s sister.”

“She’s on the Island too.” Tony mentioned.

“What are you traveling with her bloody sister for?”

“I wasn’t. She was on the plane. She crashed with the tail section.”

“And you didn’t know?” Desmond smiled.

“No, I didn’t. It was just a crazy coincidence.”

Desmond then felt of something in his bag and pulled it out. It was a cigar box, that was slightly worn through. He opened it up and pulled out another object, that making a clanging sound. “Will you accept some advice from a worldly traveler, brother?” asked Desmond.

“Sure,” Jack sighed.

“Do not mistake fate for coincidence.” The stranger man stood up and walked over to Tony, “My blind friend, will you give this to your lady fair?”

“What is it?” asked Tony.

Desmond took the object and placed it in the hands of his new friend. Tony felt of the object, seeing it was car-keys. He then felt that the keys were attached to a small plate, possibly made of brass. His palms quickly felt of the engraving on them. He ran his fingers, tracing the letters. It read Marita, My True Angel, Nana. “Holy . .” Tony gasped, “Is this . ..is this her . .”

“Don’t know why I kept them,” Desmond smiled, turning around and slapping Jack on the arm, “Must be fate, yeah?”

Before they could say anything, Sebastian slowly opened the door to the room. He quietly beckoned them to come with him. “Looks like supper is ready, brothers,” the stranger smiled, taking the hand of his son, “Let’s go have a feast to celebrate our new friendship.”

“Maybe we should have a toast to fate as well,” Jack said, leading Tony out of the room.