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stefanie_beanChapter 12: Beach Party at the End of the Universe
Pairings: Hurley/Claire, Kate/Sawyer
Characters: Hugo "Hurley" Reyes, Benjamin Linus, Desmond Hume, Claire Littleton, Kate Austen, James "Sawyer" Ford, Rose Nadler, Bernard Nadler, Carole Littleton, Aaron Littleton, Background & Cameo Characters, Original Non-Human Characters
Rating: M
Length: 6186 words
Status: Multi-chapter, WIP
Notes: Fantasy and supernatural elements. Think American Gods on the Island.
Summary: Hurley heals and rebuilds the Island, while Claire, Kate, and Sawyer head back to our world. But when it comes to love, the Island has a way of getting you where you need to be.
Chapter 12: Beach Party at the End of the Universe
That evening Hugo and everyone, including Vincent, entered the bamboo grove. They passed the field where Jack died into darker and denser woods. The bamboo thinned out, replaced by thick green jungle dotted with spikes of red ginger.
Closer to the Heart, the air grew fresher, tasted sharper in the mouth, and the bird songs sounded sweeter. A golden glow appeared through the dense vines, and on the other side, a scene of brilliant beauty spread out before them.
Rose and Bernard peered into the living stream into which all waters of the Island flowed. Rose recovered her voice first. “So this is where it happened.”
“Aye, pretty much most of it,” Desmond answered.
“This way,” Hugo said as he led them past that pool like liquid gold. “Maybe we should, um, hold hands or something.”
“Why?” Ben said.
Hugo balked, a massive obstacle to everyone's progress. “You know that story where the kids go to a planet run by a giant brain called 'It?' Unstuck in Time or something.”
“A Wrinkle in Time, you mean,” said Ben.
“Yeah, whatever. The kids had to hold hands or get lost forever in a spacey void.”
Rose grabbed Hugo's hand, then her husband's. “Lead the way, Hugo.”
Three times they went around, and each time the woods grew more full of twilight, the Heart's waters more faint. After a rustle of green darkness and a rush of wind, they found themselves in a strange part of the jungle, under a black velvet sky without moon or stars.
“What now, Hugo?” said Ben, dropping Desmond and Bernard's hands at once.
“I dunno. Hey, Vincent! Where are you, boy?”
A sharp bark answered from up ahead, so they pushed on.
In the distance drums throbbed, pipes twittered, strings thrummed. They emerged into a bright torch-lit spectacle, where stars large as coins blazed in the violet sky. The glowing starlit balls were bright enough to cast shadows. They filled the sea with flickering light, and the smell of roasting meat hung heavily over the beach.
On the beach, people gathered around fires, danced to the tune of flutes and fiddles, or lounged under grass shelters. Well, mostly people. Funny that Rima hadn't mentioned it was a costume party. Otherwise, it didn't look much different from a night on the beach in Southern California, only there wasn't any volleyball.
Hugo had to admit those were some pretty good costumes. The bird-heads looked disturbingly realistic, especially their life-like eyes. One tall fellow with a water bird's beak strode by on heron-thin legs. Another man's lower body gleamed with metallic blue fish scales. Some of the women's hair flared up into spiky orange flames.
In the thickest part of the crowd Hugo blinked once, twice, not believing what he saw. Somebody had invited the polar bears. Girls as green and naked as Rima danced in a circle with bears whose fur glowed orange in the torchlight.
Vincent had stuck by Hugo's side so far, but now he growled a little, and his neck hairs stood on end. “Stay, boy,” Hugo said as he patted him. “It's cool.” An encounter between Vincent and the polar bears could turn disastrous.
“Right, boss,” Vincent answered in a gruff voice.
Hugo stared at the dog. “I did not just hear that."
“Sorry,” Vincent said, louder this time. “Lotta noise. I got you.”
“Nah, buddy, you're cool.” What the hell had just happened?
Bernard gave a little chuckle. "So the Island has a nude beach?"
"Don't get any ideas," Rose said in no uncertain terms, then turned to Hugo. "A little warning might have been nice."
"Sorry. I, uh, didn't quite know how to bring it up." Hugo pointed to Rima, who had joined the dance. "She's the one who invited me."
Desmond said in admiration, "Nice work, brother."
As the music picked up tempo, some of the guests clapped their wings or paws to urge the dancers on. A woman wearing a big strawberry on her head offered Desmond a drink from a coconut shell, that he drank at once. Strangely, Desmond no longer wore his ratty blue shirt and beach shorts. The dark blue tunic covered with sparkling gold braid gave him the air of an old-time sea captain.
Ben said, “I've got to give you credit, Hugo. You know how to pick a party."
“Thanks. By the way, Ben, nice robe. You too, Bernard.”
Neither of them wore scruffy beach wear. Instead, they sported long silky gowns right out of Hogwarts. Ben's eggplant-dark robe was trimmed with violet fur, while Bernard's navy one bore fur of pale blue.
“Nice threads, dudes.”
“You're looking chic yourself, Hugo,” said Bernard.
Hugo ran his hands over a maroon robe trimmed with gold lace.
Rose's little pirouette made her burnt-orange skirt swirl. “Look at this, Bernard. It's lovely.”
“No, you are,” said Bernard. The two of them walked off, hand in hand, to where Desmond was trying to start up a conversation with one of the green bird-girls.
Another strawberry woman offered Ben and Hugo a choice between wine or what looked like water. He sipped it at first, then chugged it down. Everything you could ever want from water was in that draft. It was as refreshing as having a waterfall course through you.
“Ent-water,” he said to Ben.
“Whatever ent-water is, I hope that's a compliment,” came a chirpy voice. There before them stood Rima, naked as ever, but with little white shells all woven through her long black hair.
“Nice, um, outfit,” Hugo said.
“Thanks.” She shook her head, making a pretty clink.
“Rima, hey,” Hugo said. “This is Ben. Ben Linus.”
She smiled at Ben, then gave Hugo a great squeeze of a hug. “You made it.”
At first Hugo didn't know where to put his hands, then just gave in and let his palms rest along her smooth back. He fought a chuckle at Ben's deep blush when Rima hugged him as well.
“So you're Benjamin. There's someone who wants to meet you.”
“Really? I'd be honored.”
Hugo said, “Rima, catch you later, maybe?”
“We'll see," Rima said with a laugh in her voice. "You might get busy and forget all about me.” She blew Hugo a kiss as she steered Ben through the crowd, leaving Hugo on his own.
“Pardon me for listening in,” said a satyr with a gray beard and thickly furred legs. “I know everyone says 'ent-water,' but they don't know what they're talking about. It's far better.”
Hugo still felt a bit dejected that Rima had left. “Like, you know that from experience?”
“Indeed I do. Here, have some more.” The satyr refilled Hugo's cup from a clay flask.
The second drink hit Hugo even harder than the first. He'd taken a lot of meds in his time, and all they did was fog you up like a warm windshield on a cold morning. This was exactly the opposite. Colors became sharper, brighter, more real. Time slowed, but not in a groggy way. Instead, he felt alive and alert. “Hey, when you drank the ent-water, did you grow, too? Like Merry and Pippin?”
The satyr laughed, swishing his tail. “In every dimension."
The bears had stopped dancing, and a few of the bird-girls climbed up onto their backs. Some cat-faced beings smirked, as one poured “ent-water” into a bowl for Vincent. He lapped it up, then began to chase his tail as the cat-people twitched their yellow whiskers and laughed.
The fiddles played something sweet and a little mournful, joined by what sounded like circus calliope music. Hugo wandered past a tall grass shelter with a roasting pit. That probably wasn't a pig, though, because the pit was big enough for a small mastodon.
“Almost ready, sir,” someone said as he passed.
Hugo headed towards the shore. Too bad there wasn't any volleyball. Back in LA, he always surprised people when he joined a pickup game on the beach. His own teammates would try to stay out of his way, avoiding a collision. The other side would find out that he was fast, accurate, and his spikes had the impact of cannonballs.
Just his luck, Hugo spied some tangled fish netting and a couple of stakes. He said to some of the bird-men, “Hey, give me a hand, OK?”
Soon they had erected a passable version of a volleyball net. The gathering crowd chattered in low, excited tones.
“Okay, guys, make a line.” Hugo called out odds and evens, although the two kangaroo girls were each put on a team to even things out. Now all they needed was a ball.
A pair of fat, round armadillos waddled up and volunteered. Hugo hesitated at first. “Little dudes, you're gonna get spiked. You know that, right?” They chittered at him and rolled up tightly as they could. He picked up the one closest in size to a volleyball, while the other one uncurled, disappointed.
Hugo and a kangaroo girl served as team captains, and he won rock-paper-scissors for the first shot. When he shot one of his signature cannonballs over the net, the kangaroo girl leaped a good six feet into the air and slammed it right back over with a kick of her powerful foot. That wasn't a foul, because her forearms were too short to reach over her head, after all.
They were going for best of three, with Hugo's team ahead, when the game suddenly came to a stop. The armadillo uncoiled and crawled away. The musicians fell silent, as did everyone else.
Two bird-headed men positioned themselves on either side of Hugo like an honor guard. “It's time, sir,” one said, cocking his head as birds do when they want to get a better focus on something. They lowered a robe around Hugo's shoulders, a soft garment made entirely of green and gold feathers. One of the bird-men clasped it shut across Hugo's chest.
Hugo pulled the robe around him, shaking a little. Either he had really gone around the bend now, or this was actually happening, and nothing would ever be the same again. He looked into the bird-man's beady black eye. “Thanks, dude.”
A keening chant sprung up among the crowd. Low drumbeats rolled in time with the surf and the singing people. Hugo walked forward only because everyone else was, too. He tried to hide in the thickest part of the crowd, but the creatures in front of him kept moving aside to let him pass, putting him out front.
A tall woman walked straight towards Hugo. She had looked sunburnt when he first saw her on Moloka'i, but now she glowed a deep, fiery red. Her wavy black hair fell in thick masses, shot through with threads of volcanic fire. Embroidered flames leaped around the hem of her crimson dress.
“Hey, Moloka'i,” said Hugo.
She grinned with pleasure and mischief. “Hey, East LA.”
Hugo forgot the crowd, and pulled her into one of his signature rib-cracking bear hugs. Normally he held back with women, for fear of crushing them. Not her, though. She gave back as good as she got, and the heat from her body warmed him like noon beach sunshine. The throng fell silent, although the drums still beat their rapid rhythm in the background.
“Nice luau.” Hugo relaxed his grip but still held her in his arms, drinking in the feel of her.
“I thought you'd like it.” She straightened his robe, sliding her hands over the feathery fabric. “The bird-girls did a good job.” Then she made a wide sweeping gesture to everyone around them. “Don't all of you have some serious partying to do? East LA and I have to catch up.”
Small groups clustered all over the beach, drinking and talking. “Oh, look,” she said. “Your friends are having a good time. And Benjamin has found Pallas.”
Ben sat in the company of a tall, willowy woman who could just as easily been a beautiful young man. Pallas was so pale that her skin matched her bleached tunic and loose pants. Her white hair was cropped off, as if she'd cut it hastily with a knife. She and Ben talked earnestly, oblivious to the merry-making around them.
“Ben's gonna help me with the Island.”
“Good choice, lover. You know how to get people together for fun, and that's great. Ben knows how to make stuff happen, to stay safe, to eat. The Island makes it easy, and it'll be way easier with you at the helm. But fish don't just jump into the net. You have to help them along, and Ben's good at that. Looks like Pallas is filling him in.”
Hugo gave her a long look. “Who are you?”
“Pele-Honua-Mea. You can call me Pele for short.”
“But you told me in Moloka'i that your name was—”
She put her fingers to her lips and smiled. “Shhh. That was just between you and me.”
“Pele. I've heard that name.”
“They still know me in Hawai'i. Some do, anyway.” Pele put her arm around his waist, running her hand up and down, warming his flesh under her touch. “Come on, let's take a little walk.”
Hugo gave himself a shake, like you do when you wake up from a dream but still think you're sleeping. No wonder everything on the beach looked so familiar. There was the sloped path which led to Sun's garden. At the shore, three big rocks formed the tide pool where Bernard liked to fish. The pig-roast canopy was set up on the same spot as their food tent.
Hugo turned to Pele. “It's our beach, isn't it? The one we live on."
“The best on the whole Island. Not all the whispers you heard were the dead, lover. Sometimes it was just us, having a little fun.”
“So, um, how'd you wind up here?”
“A little bird told me about Jacob's demise. Well, a big one, actually. I was on Moloka'i when the news came. Hawai'i, so beautiful, but so much work to do there. And the stinking fish-head of a god who rules there is an insult to rotten chum. But that's another story. So I caught the wind and headed back as fast as I could. By the time I landed, Jack Shephard had already tasted the waters.”
“Jack was good,” Hugo said. “He killed the Locke monster. I couldn't have done that.”
"He didn't do it all on his own. Katherine, daughter of Diana, levied the fatal blow. As soon as I got here, everyone repeated her battle cry to me, 'I saved a bullet for you.' She was magnificent, she and her tall range-rider friend.”
“You mean Sawyer?”
“That one. Such a team they were. And as far as you not killing the dark creature, maybe you wouldn't have needed to.”
"I did try to go talk to him. But it didn't work."
"Didn't it?" she said with a cryptic expression. "I guess that depends on what the real objective was. Come on, let's see if that pig's ready.”
* * * * * * * *
When Hugo and Pele arrived at the baking pit, Pele made a gesture of command. A young man all painted gold rushed to her side, and gave a small bow. “Lady Pele.”
Little jets of flame appeared on Pele's fingertips. “Is that pig roasted yet? Or do you need me to hurry it along?”
“I'll see to it at once.” The golden man hurried off.
“Might as well bless it now.” Pele turned to the crowd, her voice clear and piercing. “Hey, all of you. Listen up.”
When they were silent she said, “My sweet love Kamapua'a, Lord of the Boar, gave himself up for you once again. And every time he does, he always comes back bigger and better than ever. So let's hear it for Kamapua'a, especially when we sink our teeth into that fat, juicy pig flesh. Because you know that next time I see him, I will.”
At her raucous laugh, the crowd broke out into cheers, claps, hoots, chirps and caws of all sorts.
After Pele and Hugo settled under a canopied shelter, she turned to him, full of mischief. “Thanks for the granola bar, by the way. Chocolate chip is my favorite.”
“You're welcome.” He flushed, because of what that offering had led to.
“The man at the diner, the one who sent you to me? He's an old friend. He knew you needed to see me.”
“Good thing I had the kind in my pocket that you liked.”
“Oh, you had something in your pocket that I liked, all right.”
Before Hugo could recover his voice, two attendants appeared, laden down with wooden platters. They laid out pork, sliced fish with savory sauces, crispy fried taro, and some little cream-colored balls rolled in chopped nuts.
“Time to tuck in,” Pele said.
The food was delicious. Even so, he had to get out what was bothering him. “So, Kamapua'a, is he like your boyfriend? And he doesn't care that you're, uh, here with me, or that—”
Pele's tone was gentle even if her words weren't. “I don't belong to anybody, lover. Maybe the closest is Kamapua'a, when he's around. But remember what I told you: what happens on Moloka'i stays on Moloka'i. Back then, big man, that was fun. This is business. An affair of state, if you will.”
Hugo had figured that out already. Something still confused him, though. “Wasn't Kamapua'a the name of the boar we had for dinner?”
Pele laughed, a loud amused peal. “It was. Like I said, he gives himself up, and he comes back. That's a story I thought you knew.”
Hugo just shook his head. Under the shelter the night breezes blew cool, and he pulled his feather robe around him. "There's so much I don't know. Pele, how am I gonna do this?”
“East LA, you're the Protector. And a true Protector, a good one, heals the land."
"But how?"
She leaned over, her face all business. "You get a cut on your hand from a fishing line, and your hand heals itself. How? I don't want to hear your Doctor Jack's explanations. The point is, it just does it all on its own. Sure, you help it along with herbs or a bandage. But the skin knows how to knit itself. Same thing with the Island.”
He still couldn't take it all in. "Really? That's all there is to it?"
"That's all there is. And you're going to have help, I promise.”
“From who?”
“Well, for one, you see my sister over there, talking to your friend in the blue jacket?”
“Oh, Desmond, right. Although they're kinda doing more than talking.”
“My sister Nāmaka, we don't get along so well, but I invite her because she's family. Nāmaka rules the waters all around this Island, and your friend won't get a mile offshore without her help.
“Then there's my mother, Haumea. She can make a woman have a baby when a man just looks at her, or never have one at all. And when that woman's time comes, my mother puts her hand on her belly, and that baby shoots right out like a watermelon seed. About forty years ago, Jacob's people and all those scientists pissed off my mother big-time. I don't even know what they did, 'cause I wasn't in town then. It was a mess, I do know that."
That “mess” had killed Juliet and Sun, both so desperate to escape the Island, both so doomed. But maybe things could change. “So, um, you think she's still pissed?”
“Hard to say.”
“It's kinda important, Pele. Since I'm supposed to take care of the Island and everything, it would really suck to have women, like, dying all the time.”
“Mom's not a great conversationalist under the best of circumstances. Tell you the truth, she was so mad about it when she told me, I didn't feel like asking a lot of questions.”
“You know, Pele, if you're not too busy... When you see her, do you think you could ask your mom about the babies?”
“Yes, lover, I will. And you don't have to look so worried, either. My mother likes you. You got on her good side after your plane crashed, when you took that pregnant girl under your wing.”
“Claire." Her name in his mouth tasted very sweet.
“That's the one.”
Hugo swallowed hard, anxious."Your mom, is she, um, here tonight, too?"
"Nah, she's not one much for parties. Me and Kamapua'a, we're modern, we can blend. But my mother, she's kind of old-school.” Pele rose to her feet, smoothed down her fiery dress, and held out her hand. “Come on, big man, affairs of state can't wait. I have to make a speech."
“Lucky you,” Hugo said. “'Cause I hate making speeches.”
“Well, you've made a few, and that wasn't so bad, was it?”
“I guess not. Though I hope the next one's not for a funeral.”
* * * * * * * *
Creatures of all kinds gathered around Hugo and Pele, to clap and cheer. They draped him with wreaths of fragrant red frangipani flowers, or looped necklaces of tiny white shells over his head. They crowded about him: male, female, or a little of both, and kissed his cheeks or his mouth. Some just ran their noses over his, drinking in his scent. The bird-people brushed his face with the tips of their wings. Some called him kahuna, or big man, or lover of Pele.
He heard the phrase, “Thank you,” over and over again.
Ben, Rose and Bernard made it through the crowd, and he kissed and hugged them as well. Even Ben hugged back, stiff and reserved. Desmond managed to untangle himself from Nāmaka and joined them, while Vincent licked Hugo's hand.
Hugo stood in the center, unmoving, completely unaware that he appeared as a massive figure of beauty and power, glowing with green-gold glory.
Pele climbed up onto the shoulders of a huge minotaur and raised her arms, waiting for everyone to quiet down. Her long black hair streamed out behind her like a flag lifted by the ocean winds. “Give welcome to Hugo son of David, protector of the Island and the Heart of Worlds. Welcome him and all his companions who come in a spirit of peace.
“Fight alongside him, fight for him if necessary.” She grinned and made a fist, moving it back and forth with a fast rhythm. “He has a strong arm, and he knows how to use it.” The crowd erupted into raucous laughter and cheers even louder than before.
Desmond swayed at Hugo's side, three sheets to the wind, his Glaswegian accent even thicker. “You're the Island's best-kept secret, aren't you, brother?”
“Shhh! Shhh!” said some of the creatures around them. “Lady Pele still speaks.”
Pele went on, “Once he told a young friend of his that he was 'known as a warrior where he came from.' At the time he thought he was making a joke.”
She knelt on the minotaur's shoulders, gripping his horns. “But what is a warrior for, if not to protect?” Pointing to Hugo, she spoke in a voice clear as stars, hard as fate. “Hugo son of David, every being here is now pledged to help you. Don't be shy. Ask us. The sea, the sky, the winds, the land and all the creatures in it, all the green growing things, all of them love this Island and her tender beautiful center as much as they love you. Love us, and let us love you in return. You asked more than once, what am I to do? Benjamin son of Roger gave you good counsel. 'Do what you always do. Take care of people.'”
Once more, all the assembled creatures erupted into claps or the cries of their species. Rose gave Hugo's hand a firm squeeze and said, “Honey, you sure do have your work cut out for you.”
A sudden commotion spread through the group as a hugely fat man with a long beard and green skin rolled up. Goat-legged men on either side struggled to hold him up. “Komos!” people and creatures shouted. “Look, it's Komos!”
“Presents,” someone else called out. “There'll be presents!”
One of the goat-men hauled a wooden chest covered with intricate carvings. As Komos opened it he bellowed out, “Humans first. I mean, other-worlders. Oh, you know who you are.”
“That means you,” a couple of fish-scaled boys said, pointing to Desmond, Rose, Bernard, and Ben.
“You too, sir,” said a bird-headed girl to Hugo. “Go on.”
The five of them approached the massive green man as he rummaged through the carved chest. “Let's see..." He fixed his eye on Desmond. “The sailor first. I like sailors. They're good company when you want to lift a pint, eh?”
“Aye,” Desmond answered. “Although were we in Glasgow, I'd stand you a good Scotch single-malt.”
“You'll be there soon enough,” Komos said. He handed Desmond a brass compass, battered and tarnished. “Ordinary compasses point to the true north. But this one, it will always point you towards home. And one day, you'll buy me that Scotch in Glasgow town.”
Desmond took it, tears standing in his eyes. He knelt down and planted a few dramatic kisses on Komos's hand, then stepped back.
Komos beckoned to Rose. “Lady, the Island's ground needs to be restored. Even though the Lady Sun has sailed to that other shore, the work she began here remains. Carry it on.” He handed her a small box, filled with black, sweet-smelling earth. “A single grain will cause a whole garden to bloom.”
Rose took the box with both hands, as if it was a treasure.
Komos turned to Bernard. “I don't have to tell you, Bernard son of Gregory, that all life feeds on life, and that such feeding leads to pain. You have always wanted to ease the suffering of others.” From the chest he took a small tackle box with a row of fish-hooks neatly strung on a line. They ranged in size from a man's index finger to tiny ones smaller than a thumbnail, and each one had a barb so thin and sharp that it was almost transparent. “These hooks rarely fail. And they never cause pain.”
“Thank you,” Bernard said. “These will come in very handy.”
“One more thing,” said Komos. “Never use them for sport. Only for necessity.”
“Of course not. Thank you.”
Now it was Ben's turn, although he hung back as if afraid of the big green man. Komos said, “Benjamin son of Roger, since you were twelve years old you have done little else but weave plots within plots, schemes within schemes. Now, you get to put your powers of observation into practice. The Island has a story, a long one, and you will be the one to tell it."
Komos handed Ben a blue leather portfolio. Inside was a book bound in the same, as well as a pen with a single steel-colored nib, and an inkwell. "The ink will never run dry, and the pen will never dull. Not within your lifetime, anyway. Mark well that no matter how many pages you fill, there will always be enough. But hearken, son of Roger. These pages record only words which speak true. Anything else, and the ink fades at once to white." He fixed Ben with a serious look. "Do you think you can bear the weight of this gift?"
Ben swallowed, clearly taken down a peg. "I think so. I'll try."
Komos then extended his large grip to Hugo. “I don't presume to pick for you, protector. Name what you want. Choose.”
Hugo's mind went blank. This was worse when his mom cornered him at Thanksgiving dinner, wanting to know precisely what he wanted for Christmas. Then it hit him. It was obvious.
He got distracted when Vincent nosed him in the leg, then flopped at his feet. Another idea sprung up, but Hugo paused. It would be greedy to ask for two things, when everyone else had gotten only one. He hated having to pick, but knew that he would have to.
Komos said, “Something's on your mind, protector. Out with it.”
“I can't decide between one or the other. I mean, to just pick one.”
“What are they?”
Hugo struggled to get it out. “You know, my friends are on another island, this place called Tawara in Kira-bass, something like that. But they need to get home. And I think it's gonna be tough for them. So that's the first thing. The other is, well...” and Hugo looked down at Vincent, who gave a few thumps of his brushy tail. A few grey hairs in the dog's muzzle glinted in the torchlight. “Jacob did something to Richard Alpert, to make it so that he didn't get old. As long as Jacob was alive, that is. So, you know, dogs don't live that long. I thought, maybe, um, with Vincent...”
“That's not a gift which comes from me,” Komos said in a gentle voice. “You can do that for Vincent yourself.”
“I can?”
“Put your hands on him, and from the bottom of your heart, give him that gift. That's all there is to it.”
“I dunno. It didn't make Richard all that happy.” Hugo scratched Vincent behind the ears, and the dog's tail started thumping again, hard.
“A dog doesn't have the cares of a man. A long span of years will not weigh on him. When you sail on, he will age and join you eventually on that other shore.”
Hugo knelt down and placed his hands on Vincent's stocky shoulders. “So, Vincent, you wanna do this? Instead of a few more short dog years, you're gonna go after me, not before. But it's up to you, dude.”
Vincent thumped his tail again, and his eyes shone with trust. “Whatever you say, boss.”
“It's more for us than you.” The truth was, one year of a hundred didn't matter to a dog, as long as he had his people. Vincent couldn't really say yes or no, any more than a child could. It was up to Hugo to take this momentous step for him. “We're a team, buddy. Nobody's gonna break up the A-team.”
Vincent licked Hugo's face a few times. Hugo stood up, a bit unsteady, not sure if he was supposed to feel anything or not. “So that's it? No sparks, no zaps, no magic rays?”
“It doesn't work that way,” Komos said. “Now, what is this other wish? Think hard, and state it carefully. For the greater the wisher, the more powerful the wish.”
Hugo paused. He remembered stories where a king wanted everything he touched turned to gold, then wound up his daughter as a metal statue. Or the angry farmer who wished a sausage onto his wife's nose. Wishes could go terribly wrong. Taking a deep breath, he said, “That my friends get home. So Kate and Claire can get back to Aaron. And so that everyone else can, you know, just get on with their lives. Be where they need to be.” He didn't mention his other heart's desire, that at some point, somehow, they might come back. That he might see them again, even if it was just for a visit.
Pele stood by Komos's side. Komos gave her a long glance, then said, “That can be arranged, with some help.”
“I know exactly who to see about it,” Pele answered, though the stiff look on her face gave Hugo pause. Then Pele and Komos conferred, heads close together so that no one else could hear what they were saying. It made Hugo wonder just what he had asked for. What could make it so hard for the Ajira survivors to get back, that even Pele looked worried?
Pele laced her arm in Hugo's and gave it a squeeze. “Don't worry about it, big man. This is between us gods.”
Hugo gave a small smile. "I guess even the gods have to reckon with Homeland Security."
"I'll handle it," she said, but the look on her face was hard.
Hints of purple dawn skirted around the treetops. The stars had already dimmed and shrunk back to their normal size. As Komos wandered among the crowd, distributing the rest of his gifts, Pele and Hugo strolled arm-in-arm to the moonlit surf. She leaned her head on his shoulder, as they listened to its endless thrumming song, and finally said, “You know, wishes come in groups of three, and you only spoke two.”
“Pele, with all you and everybody's done, I've got so much already.”
“Do you, now?”
“So you heard the last one, huh? Even though I didn't say anything.”
“Clear as a bell. Like I said, my mother likes that one, Claire. A lot.”
Hugo didn't want Pele to see the naked feeling on his face, but of course she did. Then a tiny flame of anger licked through him. “Not enough to keep the smoke thing from stealing her, though.”
Now it was Pele's turn to flush red. “It wasn't for lack of trying, big man. And who do you think helped keep her alive during those three years?”
“Sorry,” he said, anger turning to embarrassment.
“You couldn't have known. But don't worry, you can go see Claire and the rest of your friends, at least after I keep up my end and get them where they need to be.”
“How? I mean, Desmond has his boat now, but I can't just take off with him. I got stuff to do here.”
“Well, obviously. So just do what Jacob did.”
“What? What did Jacob do?”
“You saw him in your old country. Didn't you ever wonder how he got there?”
To be honest, Hugo hadn't.
“A Door on the Island leads to your old world. It will take you there and back again, swift as the wind. But remember, whenever you travel between worlds, the ferryman always demands a price.”
“What price?” Hugo said in a faint voice, trying to believe it, even though it sounded so incredible.
“You have three days on the other side,” Pele said. “That and no more. Any longer, and whatever devils plagued you before you came here will return seven-fold. You're part of this world now, and your place is here.”
“Did that happen to Jacob?”
Pele sighed. “I don't know, lover. As Rima told you, Jacob never knew us.”
“So Jacob was sitting on this Door all along.”
To the east, a faint pink smudge formed on the horizon. “We don't have much time, lover. Soon as the sun's edge appears, I'm gone. Listen to me, though. Whatever Jacob did, his time is through. What's done is done.
“I'm going to ask one thing. Don't think about it, just answer true. If your friend Claire came to find that her real home, her true home was back in that world you left, among her own people, and that she might choose to never return to this Island again, how would that make you feel?”
Sadness stabbed him at the thought. But answer true, Pele said, so here goes. “I want her to be happy, no matter what.”
As soon as he said it, dawn broke through the horizon on the eastern sea. Pele's eyes glowed golden, and her hair flickered with real fire. Sparks shot from her fingertips, like at the party. “That's a good answer, big man. The right one.”
Hiding thoughts from Pele did no good. “She might not even want to, I mean, especially if—”
Pele put a finger across his lips and smiled. “I promise, when I see my mother Haumea, I'll ask. Meanwhile, you men on the Island, you're just going to have to not bother the women in that one special way till we figure it out.”
“I don't think that's gonna be a problem.” Not for him, anyway. And Rose was too old to have a child. As for younger women on the Island, if there even were any, he'd just have to cross that bridge when he came to it. Hopefully, like another bridge years earlier, it would hold him, and the rest of the women on the Island too. “Thanks, Pele. Thanks for everything.”
She gave one last look over towards the rising sun. “Time flies, lover. How about you kiss me good-bye now?”
He pulled her towards him, and while her lips tasted more of farewell than passion, the kiss burned him all the same. Then one more thing came to him. “Pele, wait a minute. Where is this Door, anyway?”
Dawn broke, like none he had ever seen on the Island. Before Pele could answer, she vanished from his arms in a fiery burst of pink and gold. Blinded, Hugo sank to his knees as the light passed around and through him. Then, mercifully, everything faded into cool darkness.
(continued)
Pairings: Hurley/Claire, Kate/Sawyer
Characters: Hugo "Hurley" Reyes, Benjamin Linus, Desmond Hume, Claire Littleton, Kate Austen, James "Sawyer" Ford, Rose Nadler, Bernard Nadler, Carole Littleton, Aaron Littleton, Background & Cameo Characters, Original Non-Human Characters
Rating: M
Length: 6186 words
Status: Multi-chapter, WIP
Notes: Fantasy and supernatural elements. Think American Gods on the Island.
Summary: Hurley heals and rebuilds the Island, while Claire, Kate, and Sawyer head back to our world. But when it comes to love, the Island has a way of getting you where you need to be.
Chapter 12: Beach Party at the End of the Universe
That evening Hugo and everyone, including Vincent, entered the bamboo grove. They passed the field where Jack died into darker and denser woods. The bamboo thinned out, replaced by thick green jungle dotted with spikes of red ginger.
Closer to the Heart, the air grew fresher, tasted sharper in the mouth, and the bird songs sounded sweeter. A golden glow appeared through the dense vines, and on the other side, a scene of brilliant beauty spread out before them.
Rose and Bernard peered into the living stream into which all waters of the Island flowed. Rose recovered her voice first. “So this is where it happened.”
“Aye, pretty much most of it,” Desmond answered.
“This way,” Hugo said as he led them past that pool like liquid gold. “Maybe we should, um, hold hands or something.”
“Why?” Ben said.
Hugo balked, a massive obstacle to everyone's progress. “You know that story where the kids go to a planet run by a giant brain called 'It?' Unstuck in Time or something.”
“A Wrinkle in Time, you mean,” said Ben.
“Yeah, whatever. The kids had to hold hands or get lost forever in a spacey void.”
Rose grabbed Hugo's hand, then her husband's. “Lead the way, Hugo.”
Three times they went around, and each time the woods grew more full of twilight, the Heart's waters more faint. After a rustle of green darkness and a rush of wind, they found themselves in a strange part of the jungle, under a black velvet sky without moon or stars.
“What now, Hugo?” said Ben, dropping Desmond and Bernard's hands at once.
“I dunno. Hey, Vincent! Where are you, boy?”
A sharp bark answered from up ahead, so they pushed on.
In the distance drums throbbed, pipes twittered, strings thrummed. They emerged into a bright torch-lit spectacle, where stars large as coins blazed in the violet sky. The glowing starlit balls were bright enough to cast shadows. They filled the sea with flickering light, and the smell of roasting meat hung heavily over the beach.
On the beach, people gathered around fires, danced to the tune of flutes and fiddles, or lounged under grass shelters. Well, mostly people. Funny that Rima hadn't mentioned it was a costume party. Otherwise, it didn't look much different from a night on the beach in Southern California, only there wasn't any volleyball.
Hugo had to admit those were some pretty good costumes. The bird-heads looked disturbingly realistic, especially their life-like eyes. One tall fellow with a water bird's beak strode by on heron-thin legs. Another man's lower body gleamed with metallic blue fish scales. Some of the women's hair flared up into spiky orange flames.
In the thickest part of the crowd Hugo blinked once, twice, not believing what he saw. Somebody had invited the polar bears. Girls as green and naked as Rima danced in a circle with bears whose fur glowed orange in the torchlight.
Vincent had stuck by Hugo's side so far, but now he growled a little, and his neck hairs stood on end. “Stay, boy,” Hugo said as he patted him. “It's cool.” An encounter between Vincent and the polar bears could turn disastrous.
“Right, boss,” Vincent answered in a gruff voice.
Hugo stared at the dog. “I did not just hear that."
“Sorry,” Vincent said, louder this time. “Lotta noise. I got you.”
“Nah, buddy, you're cool.” What the hell had just happened?
Bernard gave a little chuckle. "So the Island has a nude beach?"
"Don't get any ideas," Rose said in no uncertain terms, then turned to Hugo. "A little warning might have been nice."
"Sorry. I, uh, didn't quite know how to bring it up." Hugo pointed to Rima, who had joined the dance. "She's the one who invited me."
Desmond said in admiration, "Nice work, brother."
As the music picked up tempo, some of the guests clapped their wings or paws to urge the dancers on. A woman wearing a big strawberry on her head offered Desmond a drink from a coconut shell, that he drank at once. Strangely, Desmond no longer wore his ratty blue shirt and beach shorts. The dark blue tunic covered with sparkling gold braid gave him the air of an old-time sea captain.
Ben said, “I've got to give you credit, Hugo. You know how to pick a party."
“Thanks. By the way, Ben, nice robe. You too, Bernard.”
Neither of them wore scruffy beach wear. Instead, they sported long silky gowns right out of Hogwarts. Ben's eggplant-dark robe was trimmed with violet fur, while Bernard's navy one bore fur of pale blue.
“Nice threads, dudes.”
“You're looking chic yourself, Hugo,” said Bernard.
Hugo ran his hands over a maroon robe trimmed with gold lace.
Rose's little pirouette made her burnt-orange skirt swirl. “Look at this, Bernard. It's lovely.”
“No, you are,” said Bernard. The two of them walked off, hand in hand, to where Desmond was trying to start up a conversation with one of the green bird-girls.
Another strawberry woman offered Ben and Hugo a choice between wine or what looked like water. He sipped it at first, then chugged it down. Everything you could ever want from water was in that draft. It was as refreshing as having a waterfall course through you.
“Ent-water,” he said to Ben.
“Whatever ent-water is, I hope that's a compliment,” came a chirpy voice. There before them stood Rima, naked as ever, but with little white shells all woven through her long black hair.
“Nice, um, outfit,” Hugo said.
“Thanks.” She shook her head, making a pretty clink.
“Rima, hey,” Hugo said. “This is Ben. Ben Linus.”
She smiled at Ben, then gave Hugo a great squeeze of a hug. “You made it.”
At first Hugo didn't know where to put his hands, then just gave in and let his palms rest along her smooth back. He fought a chuckle at Ben's deep blush when Rima hugged him as well.
“So you're Benjamin. There's someone who wants to meet you.”
“Really? I'd be honored.”
Hugo said, “Rima, catch you later, maybe?”
“We'll see," Rima said with a laugh in her voice. "You might get busy and forget all about me.” She blew Hugo a kiss as she steered Ben through the crowd, leaving Hugo on his own.
“Pardon me for listening in,” said a satyr with a gray beard and thickly furred legs. “I know everyone says 'ent-water,' but they don't know what they're talking about. It's far better.”
Hugo still felt a bit dejected that Rima had left. “Like, you know that from experience?”
“Indeed I do. Here, have some more.” The satyr refilled Hugo's cup from a clay flask.
The second drink hit Hugo even harder than the first. He'd taken a lot of meds in his time, and all they did was fog you up like a warm windshield on a cold morning. This was exactly the opposite. Colors became sharper, brighter, more real. Time slowed, but not in a groggy way. Instead, he felt alive and alert. “Hey, when you drank the ent-water, did you grow, too? Like Merry and Pippin?”
The satyr laughed, swishing his tail. “In every dimension."
The bears had stopped dancing, and a few of the bird-girls climbed up onto their backs. Some cat-faced beings smirked, as one poured “ent-water” into a bowl for Vincent. He lapped it up, then began to chase his tail as the cat-people twitched their yellow whiskers and laughed.
The fiddles played something sweet and a little mournful, joined by what sounded like circus calliope music. Hugo wandered past a tall grass shelter with a roasting pit. That probably wasn't a pig, though, because the pit was big enough for a small mastodon.
“Almost ready, sir,” someone said as he passed.
Hugo headed towards the shore. Too bad there wasn't any volleyball. Back in LA, he always surprised people when he joined a pickup game on the beach. His own teammates would try to stay out of his way, avoiding a collision. The other side would find out that he was fast, accurate, and his spikes had the impact of cannonballs.
Just his luck, Hugo spied some tangled fish netting and a couple of stakes. He said to some of the bird-men, “Hey, give me a hand, OK?”
Soon they had erected a passable version of a volleyball net. The gathering crowd chattered in low, excited tones.
“Okay, guys, make a line.” Hugo called out odds and evens, although the two kangaroo girls were each put on a team to even things out. Now all they needed was a ball.
A pair of fat, round armadillos waddled up and volunteered. Hugo hesitated at first. “Little dudes, you're gonna get spiked. You know that, right?” They chittered at him and rolled up tightly as they could. He picked up the one closest in size to a volleyball, while the other one uncurled, disappointed.
Hugo and a kangaroo girl served as team captains, and he won rock-paper-scissors for the first shot. When he shot one of his signature cannonballs over the net, the kangaroo girl leaped a good six feet into the air and slammed it right back over with a kick of her powerful foot. That wasn't a foul, because her forearms were too short to reach over her head, after all.
They were going for best of three, with Hugo's team ahead, when the game suddenly came to a stop. The armadillo uncoiled and crawled away. The musicians fell silent, as did everyone else.
Two bird-headed men positioned themselves on either side of Hugo like an honor guard. “It's time, sir,” one said, cocking his head as birds do when they want to get a better focus on something. They lowered a robe around Hugo's shoulders, a soft garment made entirely of green and gold feathers. One of the bird-men clasped it shut across Hugo's chest.
Hugo pulled the robe around him, shaking a little. Either he had really gone around the bend now, or this was actually happening, and nothing would ever be the same again. He looked into the bird-man's beady black eye. “Thanks, dude.”
A keening chant sprung up among the crowd. Low drumbeats rolled in time with the surf and the singing people. Hugo walked forward only because everyone else was, too. He tried to hide in the thickest part of the crowd, but the creatures in front of him kept moving aside to let him pass, putting him out front.
A tall woman walked straight towards Hugo. She had looked sunburnt when he first saw her on Moloka'i, but now she glowed a deep, fiery red. Her wavy black hair fell in thick masses, shot through with threads of volcanic fire. Embroidered flames leaped around the hem of her crimson dress.
“Hey, Moloka'i,” said Hugo.
She grinned with pleasure and mischief. “Hey, East LA.”
Hugo forgot the crowd, and pulled her into one of his signature rib-cracking bear hugs. Normally he held back with women, for fear of crushing them. Not her, though. She gave back as good as she got, and the heat from her body warmed him like noon beach sunshine. The throng fell silent, although the drums still beat their rapid rhythm in the background.
“Nice luau.” Hugo relaxed his grip but still held her in his arms, drinking in the feel of her.
“I thought you'd like it.” She straightened his robe, sliding her hands over the feathery fabric. “The bird-girls did a good job.” Then she made a wide sweeping gesture to everyone around them. “Don't all of you have some serious partying to do? East LA and I have to catch up.”
Small groups clustered all over the beach, drinking and talking. “Oh, look,” she said. “Your friends are having a good time. And Benjamin has found Pallas.”
Ben sat in the company of a tall, willowy woman who could just as easily been a beautiful young man. Pallas was so pale that her skin matched her bleached tunic and loose pants. Her white hair was cropped off, as if she'd cut it hastily with a knife. She and Ben talked earnestly, oblivious to the merry-making around them.
“Ben's gonna help me with the Island.”
“Good choice, lover. You know how to get people together for fun, and that's great. Ben knows how to make stuff happen, to stay safe, to eat. The Island makes it easy, and it'll be way easier with you at the helm. But fish don't just jump into the net. You have to help them along, and Ben's good at that. Looks like Pallas is filling him in.”
Hugo gave her a long look. “Who are you?”
“Pele-Honua-Mea. You can call me Pele for short.”
“But you told me in Moloka'i that your name was—”
She put her fingers to her lips and smiled. “Shhh. That was just between you and me.”
“Pele. I've heard that name.”
“They still know me in Hawai'i. Some do, anyway.” Pele put her arm around his waist, running her hand up and down, warming his flesh under her touch. “Come on, let's take a little walk.”
Hugo gave himself a shake, like you do when you wake up from a dream but still think you're sleeping. No wonder everything on the beach looked so familiar. There was the sloped path which led to Sun's garden. At the shore, three big rocks formed the tide pool where Bernard liked to fish. The pig-roast canopy was set up on the same spot as their food tent.
Hugo turned to Pele. “It's our beach, isn't it? The one we live on."
“The best on the whole Island. Not all the whispers you heard were the dead, lover. Sometimes it was just us, having a little fun.”
“So, um, how'd you wind up here?”
“A little bird told me about Jacob's demise. Well, a big one, actually. I was on Moloka'i when the news came. Hawai'i, so beautiful, but so much work to do there. And the stinking fish-head of a god who rules there is an insult to rotten chum. But that's another story. So I caught the wind and headed back as fast as I could. By the time I landed, Jack Shephard had already tasted the waters.”
“Jack was good,” Hugo said. “He killed the Locke monster. I couldn't have done that.”
"He didn't do it all on his own. Katherine, daughter of Diana, levied the fatal blow. As soon as I got here, everyone repeated her battle cry to me, 'I saved a bullet for you.' She was magnificent, she and her tall range-rider friend.”
“You mean Sawyer?”
“That one. Such a team they were. And as far as you not killing the dark creature, maybe you wouldn't have needed to.”
"I did try to go talk to him. But it didn't work."
"Didn't it?" she said with a cryptic expression. "I guess that depends on what the real objective was. Come on, let's see if that pig's ready.”
When Hugo and Pele arrived at the baking pit, Pele made a gesture of command. A young man all painted gold rushed to her side, and gave a small bow. “Lady Pele.”
Little jets of flame appeared on Pele's fingertips. “Is that pig roasted yet? Or do you need me to hurry it along?”
“I'll see to it at once.” The golden man hurried off.
“Might as well bless it now.” Pele turned to the crowd, her voice clear and piercing. “Hey, all of you. Listen up.”
When they were silent she said, “My sweet love Kamapua'a, Lord of the Boar, gave himself up for you once again. And every time he does, he always comes back bigger and better than ever. So let's hear it for Kamapua'a, especially when we sink our teeth into that fat, juicy pig flesh. Because you know that next time I see him, I will.”
At her raucous laugh, the crowd broke out into cheers, claps, hoots, chirps and caws of all sorts.
After Pele and Hugo settled under a canopied shelter, she turned to him, full of mischief. “Thanks for the granola bar, by the way. Chocolate chip is my favorite.”
“You're welcome.” He flushed, because of what that offering had led to.
“The man at the diner, the one who sent you to me? He's an old friend. He knew you needed to see me.”
“Good thing I had the kind in my pocket that you liked.”
“Oh, you had something in your pocket that I liked, all right.”
Before Hugo could recover his voice, two attendants appeared, laden down with wooden platters. They laid out pork, sliced fish with savory sauces, crispy fried taro, and some little cream-colored balls rolled in chopped nuts.
“Time to tuck in,” Pele said.
The food was delicious. Even so, he had to get out what was bothering him. “So, Kamapua'a, is he like your boyfriend? And he doesn't care that you're, uh, here with me, or that—”
Pele's tone was gentle even if her words weren't. “I don't belong to anybody, lover. Maybe the closest is Kamapua'a, when he's around. But remember what I told you: what happens on Moloka'i stays on Moloka'i. Back then, big man, that was fun. This is business. An affair of state, if you will.”
Hugo had figured that out already. Something still confused him, though. “Wasn't Kamapua'a the name of the boar we had for dinner?”
Pele laughed, a loud amused peal. “It was. Like I said, he gives himself up, and he comes back. That's a story I thought you knew.”
Hugo just shook his head. Under the shelter the night breezes blew cool, and he pulled his feather robe around him. "There's so much I don't know. Pele, how am I gonna do this?”
“East LA, you're the Protector. And a true Protector, a good one, heals the land."
"But how?"
She leaned over, her face all business. "You get a cut on your hand from a fishing line, and your hand heals itself. How? I don't want to hear your Doctor Jack's explanations. The point is, it just does it all on its own. Sure, you help it along with herbs or a bandage. But the skin knows how to knit itself. Same thing with the Island.”
He still couldn't take it all in. "Really? That's all there is to it?"
"That's all there is. And you're going to have help, I promise.”
“From who?”
“Well, for one, you see my sister over there, talking to your friend in the blue jacket?”
“Oh, Desmond, right. Although they're kinda doing more than talking.”
“My sister Nāmaka, we don't get along so well, but I invite her because she's family. Nāmaka rules the waters all around this Island, and your friend won't get a mile offshore without her help.
“Then there's my mother, Haumea. She can make a woman have a baby when a man just looks at her, or never have one at all. And when that woman's time comes, my mother puts her hand on her belly, and that baby shoots right out like a watermelon seed. About forty years ago, Jacob's people and all those scientists pissed off my mother big-time. I don't even know what they did, 'cause I wasn't in town then. It was a mess, I do know that."
That “mess” had killed Juliet and Sun, both so desperate to escape the Island, both so doomed. But maybe things could change. “So, um, you think she's still pissed?”
“Hard to say.”
“It's kinda important, Pele. Since I'm supposed to take care of the Island and everything, it would really suck to have women, like, dying all the time.”
“Mom's not a great conversationalist under the best of circumstances. Tell you the truth, she was so mad about it when she told me, I didn't feel like asking a lot of questions.”
“You know, Pele, if you're not too busy... When you see her, do you think you could ask your mom about the babies?”
“Yes, lover, I will. And you don't have to look so worried, either. My mother likes you. You got on her good side after your plane crashed, when you took that pregnant girl under your wing.”
“Claire." Her name in his mouth tasted very sweet.
“That's the one.”
Hugo swallowed hard, anxious."Your mom, is she, um, here tonight, too?"
"Nah, she's not one much for parties. Me and Kamapua'a, we're modern, we can blend. But my mother, she's kind of old-school.” Pele rose to her feet, smoothed down her fiery dress, and held out her hand. “Come on, big man, affairs of state can't wait. I have to make a speech."
“Lucky you,” Hugo said. “'Cause I hate making speeches.”
“Well, you've made a few, and that wasn't so bad, was it?”
“I guess not. Though I hope the next one's not for a funeral.”
Creatures of all kinds gathered around Hugo and Pele, to clap and cheer. They draped him with wreaths of fragrant red frangipani flowers, or looped necklaces of tiny white shells over his head. They crowded about him: male, female, or a little of both, and kissed his cheeks or his mouth. Some just ran their noses over his, drinking in his scent. The bird-people brushed his face with the tips of their wings. Some called him kahuna, or big man, or lover of Pele.
He heard the phrase, “Thank you,” over and over again.
Ben, Rose and Bernard made it through the crowd, and he kissed and hugged them as well. Even Ben hugged back, stiff and reserved. Desmond managed to untangle himself from Nāmaka and joined them, while Vincent licked Hugo's hand.
Hugo stood in the center, unmoving, completely unaware that he appeared as a massive figure of beauty and power, glowing with green-gold glory.
Pele climbed up onto the shoulders of a huge minotaur and raised her arms, waiting for everyone to quiet down. Her long black hair streamed out behind her like a flag lifted by the ocean winds. “Give welcome to Hugo son of David, protector of the Island and the Heart of Worlds. Welcome him and all his companions who come in a spirit of peace.
“Fight alongside him, fight for him if necessary.” She grinned and made a fist, moving it back and forth with a fast rhythm. “He has a strong arm, and he knows how to use it.” The crowd erupted into raucous laughter and cheers even louder than before.
Desmond swayed at Hugo's side, three sheets to the wind, his Glaswegian accent even thicker. “You're the Island's best-kept secret, aren't you, brother?”
“Shhh! Shhh!” said some of the creatures around them. “Lady Pele still speaks.”
Pele went on, “Once he told a young friend of his that he was 'known as a warrior where he came from.' At the time he thought he was making a joke.”
She knelt on the minotaur's shoulders, gripping his horns. “But what is a warrior for, if not to protect?” Pointing to Hugo, she spoke in a voice clear as stars, hard as fate. “Hugo son of David, every being here is now pledged to help you. Don't be shy. Ask us. The sea, the sky, the winds, the land and all the creatures in it, all the green growing things, all of them love this Island and her tender beautiful center as much as they love you. Love us, and let us love you in return. You asked more than once, what am I to do? Benjamin son of Roger gave you good counsel. 'Do what you always do. Take care of people.'”
Once more, all the assembled creatures erupted into claps or the cries of their species. Rose gave Hugo's hand a firm squeeze and said, “Honey, you sure do have your work cut out for you.”
A sudden commotion spread through the group as a hugely fat man with a long beard and green skin rolled up. Goat-legged men on either side struggled to hold him up. “Komos!” people and creatures shouted. “Look, it's Komos!”
“Presents,” someone else called out. “There'll be presents!”
One of the goat-men hauled a wooden chest covered with intricate carvings. As Komos opened it he bellowed out, “Humans first. I mean, other-worlders. Oh, you know who you are.”
“That means you,” a couple of fish-scaled boys said, pointing to Desmond, Rose, Bernard, and Ben.
“You too, sir,” said a bird-headed girl to Hugo. “Go on.”
The five of them approached the massive green man as he rummaged through the carved chest. “Let's see..." He fixed his eye on Desmond. “The sailor first. I like sailors. They're good company when you want to lift a pint, eh?”
“Aye,” Desmond answered. “Although were we in Glasgow, I'd stand you a good Scotch single-malt.”
“You'll be there soon enough,” Komos said. He handed Desmond a brass compass, battered and tarnished. “Ordinary compasses point to the true north. But this one, it will always point you towards home. And one day, you'll buy me that Scotch in Glasgow town.”
Desmond took it, tears standing in his eyes. He knelt down and planted a few dramatic kisses on Komos's hand, then stepped back.
Komos beckoned to Rose. “Lady, the Island's ground needs to be restored. Even though the Lady Sun has sailed to that other shore, the work she began here remains. Carry it on.” He handed her a small box, filled with black, sweet-smelling earth. “A single grain will cause a whole garden to bloom.”
Rose took the box with both hands, as if it was a treasure.
Komos turned to Bernard. “I don't have to tell you, Bernard son of Gregory, that all life feeds on life, and that such feeding leads to pain. You have always wanted to ease the suffering of others.” From the chest he took a small tackle box with a row of fish-hooks neatly strung on a line. They ranged in size from a man's index finger to tiny ones smaller than a thumbnail, and each one had a barb so thin and sharp that it was almost transparent. “These hooks rarely fail. And they never cause pain.”
“Thank you,” Bernard said. “These will come in very handy.”
“One more thing,” said Komos. “Never use them for sport. Only for necessity.”
“Of course not. Thank you.”
Now it was Ben's turn, although he hung back as if afraid of the big green man. Komos said, “Benjamin son of Roger, since you were twelve years old you have done little else but weave plots within plots, schemes within schemes. Now, you get to put your powers of observation into practice. The Island has a story, a long one, and you will be the one to tell it."
Komos handed Ben a blue leather portfolio. Inside was a book bound in the same, as well as a pen with a single steel-colored nib, and an inkwell. "The ink will never run dry, and the pen will never dull. Not within your lifetime, anyway. Mark well that no matter how many pages you fill, there will always be enough. But hearken, son of Roger. These pages record only words which speak true. Anything else, and the ink fades at once to white." He fixed Ben with a serious look. "Do you think you can bear the weight of this gift?"
Ben swallowed, clearly taken down a peg. "I think so. I'll try."
Komos then extended his large grip to Hugo. “I don't presume to pick for you, protector. Name what you want. Choose.”
Hugo's mind went blank. This was worse when his mom cornered him at Thanksgiving dinner, wanting to know precisely what he wanted for Christmas. Then it hit him. It was obvious.
He got distracted when Vincent nosed him in the leg, then flopped at his feet. Another idea sprung up, but Hugo paused. It would be greedy to ask for two things, when everyone else had gotten only one. He hated having to pick, but knew that he would have to.
Komos said, “Something's on your mind, protector. Out with it.”
“I can't decide between one or the other. I mean, to just pick one.”
“What are they?”
Hugo struggled to get it out. “You know, my friends are on another island, this place called Tawara in Kira-bass, something like that. But they need to get home. And I think it's gonna be tough for them. So that's the first thing. The other is, well...” and Hugo looked down at Vincent, who gave a few thumps of his brushy tail. A few grey hairs in the dog's muzzle glinted in the torchlight. “Jacob did something to Richard Alpert, to make it so that he didn't get old. As long as Jacob was alive, that is. So, you know, dogs don't live that long. I thought, maybe, um, with Vincent...”
“That's not a gift which comes from me,” Komos said in a gentle voice. “You can do that for Vincent yourself.”
“I can?”
“Put your hands on him, and from the bottom of your heart, give him that gift. That's all there is to it.”
“I dunno. It didn't make Richard all that happy.” Hugo scratched Vincent behind the ears, and the dog's tail started thumping again, hard.
“A dog doesn't have the cares of a man. A long span of years will not weigh on him. When you sail on, he will age and join you eventually on that other shore.”
Hugo knelt down and placed his hands on Vincent's stocky shoulders. “So, Vincent, you wanna do this? Instead of a few more short dog years, you're gonna go after me, not before. But it's up to you, dude.”
Vincent thumped his tail again, and his eyes shone with trust. “Whatever you say, boss.”
“It's more for us than you.” The truth was, one year of a hundred didn't matter to a dog, as long as he had his people. Vincent couldn't really say yes or no, any more than a child could. It was up to Hugo to take this momentous step for him. “We're a team, buddy. Nobody's gonna break up the A-team.”
Vincent licked Hugo's face a few times. Hugo stood up, a bit unsteady, not sure if he was supposed to feel anything or not. “So that's it? No sparks, no zaps, no magic rays?”
“It doesn't work that way,” Komos said. “Now, what is this other wish? Think hard, and state it carefully. For the greater the wisher, the more powerful the wish.”
Hugo paused. He remembered stories where a king wanted everything he touched turned to gold, then wound up his daughter as a metal statue. Or the angry farmer who wished a sausage onto his wife's nose. Wishes could go terribly wrong. Taking a deep breath, he said, “That my friends get home. So Kate and Claire can get back to Aaron. And so that everyone else can, you know, just get on with their lives. Be where they need to be.” He didn't mention his other heart's desire, that at some point, somehow, they might come back. That he might see them again, even if it was just for a visit.
Pele stood by Komos's side. Komos gave her a long glance, then said, “That can be arranged, with some help.”
“I know exactly who to see about it,” Pele answered, though the stiff look on her face gave Hugo pause. Then Pele and Komos conferred, heads close together so that no one else could hear what they were saying. It made Hugo wonder just what he had asked for. What could make it so hard for the Ajira survivors to get back, that even Pele looked worried?
Pele laced her arm in Hugo's and gave it a squeeze. “Don't worry about it, big man. This is between us gods.”
Hugo gave a small smile. "I guess even the gods have to reckon with Homeland Security."
"I'll handle it," she said, but the look on her face was hard.
Hints of purple dawn skirted around the treetops. The stars had already dimmed and shrunk back to their normal size. As Komos wandered among the crowd, distributing the rest of his gifts, Pele and Hugo strolled arm-in-arm to the moonlit surf. She leaned her head on his shoulder, as they listened to its endless thrumming song, and finally said, “You know, wishes come in groups of three, and you only spoke two.”
“Pele, with all you and everybody's done, I've got so much already.”
“Do you, now?”
“So you heard the last one, huh? Even though I didn't say anything.”
“Clear as a bell. Like I said, my mother likes that one, Claire. A lot.”
Hugo didn't want Pele to see the naked feeling on his face, but of course she did. Then a tiny flame of anger licked through him. “Not enough to keep the smoke thing from stealing her, though.”
Now it was Pele's turn to flush red. “It wasn't for lack of trying, big man. And who do you think helped keep her alive during those three years?”
“Sorry,” he said, anger turning to embarrassment.
“You couldn't have known. But don't worry, you can go see Claire and the rest of your friends, at least after I keep up my end and get them where they need to be.”
“How? I mean, Desmond has his boat now, but I can't just take off with him. I got stuff to do here.”
“Well, obviously. So just do what Jacob did.”
“What? What did Jacob do?”
“You saw him in your old country. Didn't you ever wonder how he got there?”
To be honest, Hugo hadn't.
“A Door on the Island leads to your old world. It will take you there and back again, swift as the wind. But remember, whenever you travel between worlds, the ferryman always demands a price.”
“What price?” Hugo said in a faint voice, trying to believe it, even though it sounded so incredible.
“You have three days on the other side,” Pele said. “That and no more. Any longer, and whatever devils plagued you before you came here will return seven-fold. You're part of this world now, and your place is here.”
“Did that happen to Jacob?”
Pele sighed. “I don't know, lover. As Rima told you, Jacob never knew us.”
“So Jacob was sitting on this Door all along.”
To the east, a faint pink smudge formed on the horizon. “We don't have much time, lover. Soon as the sun's edge appears, I'm gone. Listen to me, though. Whatever Jacob did, his time is through. What's done is done.
“I'm going to ask one thing. Don't think about it, just answer true. If your friend Claire came to find that her real home, her true home was back in that world you left, among her own people, and that she might choose to never return to this Island again, how would that make you feel?”
Sadness stabbed him at the thought. But answer true, Pele said, so here goes. “I want her to be happy, no matter what.”
As soon as he said it, dawn broke through the horizon on the eastern sea. Pele's eyes glowed golden, and her hair flickered with real fire. Sparks shot from her fingertips, like at the party. “That's a good answer, big man. The right one.”
Hiding thoughts from Pele did no good. “She might not even want to, I mean, especially if—”
Pele put a finger across his lips and smiled. “I promise, when I see my mother Haumea, I'll ask. Meanwhile, you men on the Island, you're just going to have to not bother the women in that one special way till we figure it out.”
“I don't think that's gonna be a problem.” Not for him, anyway. And Rose was too old to have a child. As for younger women on the Island, if there even were any, he'd just have to cross that bridge when he came to it. Hopefully, like another bridge years earlier, it would hold him, and the rest of the women on the Island too. “Thanks, Pele. Thanks for everything.”
She gave one last look over towards the rising sun. “Time flies, lover. How about you kiss me good-bye now?”
He pulled her towards him, and while her lips tasted more of farewell than passion, the kiss burned him all the same. Then one more thing came to him. “Pele, wait a minute. Where is this Door, anyway?”
Dawn broke, like none he had ever seen on the Island. Before Pele could answer, she vanished from his arms in a fiery burst of pink and gold. Blinded, Hugo sank to his knees as the light passed around and through him. Then, mercifully, everything faded into cool darkness.
(continued)
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(no subject)
Date: 2015-07-15 02:48 am (UTC)Yes, Ben needed to be taken down a peg.
Trippy chapter, too. Makes me think of parties in my youth.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-07-15 03:36 pm (UTC)If you want to see more of how the RTX "sausage" is made, I've got notes for most of the chapters (link here (http://stefanie-bean.livejournal.com/tag/notes%3A%20return%20to%20xanadu).)
Yeah, Pele's parties are pretty trippy. Glad it wasn't too over-the-top for you. And I appreciate your comment re: Hugo's first encounter with Pele. "Everybody loves Hugo... except women" is a trope I'd really like to demolish.
Once more, thanks again for reading, and especially for commenting.
(no subject)
Date: 2015-07-15 11:51 pm (UTC)On to the next chapter!
(no subject)
Date: 2015-07-16 01:28 am (UTC)And yeah, I think Hugo's erotically attractive too, on every level. ;-)