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stefanie_beanChapter 20: Ordinary Eternal Machinery
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: 3971 words
Status: Complete
Notes: Fantasy and supernatural elements. Think American Gods on the Island.
Summary: Hurley is now Protector of 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 20: Ordinary Eternal Machinery
As the nights passed, Desmond still slept in the Elizabeth, as if hovering over her would magically stock her galley, patch the shot-up cabin galley door, and put the yacht in dry-dock so he could check her hull for seaworthiness.
Hugo could tell that Des was getting frustrated. Nor was Hugo entirely selfless. If push came to shove, he had to admit that he missed Desmond. Once in awhile he could show his face in New Otherton, couldn't he?
Some people just needed a personal invitation. Maybe Desmond was one of these, and Hugo decided to deliver it himself.
Northwest of the Barracks, the old Dharma road ran down to the dock by the bay. As Hugo plodded along, he pondered.
Should he fix the Elizabeth himself? Desmond didn't need to know. And it was critical that no one else did, either.
As soon as Hugo thought of it, he dismissed it. It would freak people out to see the Elizabeth fixed as if by magic and provisioned out of nowhere. For an instant Hugo felt sorry for Jacob and Jacob's seemingly callous indifference. Because once you started, where did it stop?
As a kid, Hugo had watched this Disney cartoon that had scared the crap out of him. Mickey Mouse was a flunky for this magician guy, a kind of crabby Dumbledore. That wizard dude was downright terrifying, with his bristling brows and hawk nose. Mickey had to fill the wizard's gigantic bathtub, but that was a drag, so he stole the wizard's hat and enchanted the broom to do the work for him. Of course it all went straight to hell, because once the brooms got going, Mickey couldn't make them stop. It only ended when the wizard stepped in to put everything right.
But what wizard would fix things up for him if he screwed up, if he started something he couldn't finish?
And even if he didn't screw it up, was that really how he was supposed to do things, by calling up a magic he didn't even understand?
The Dharma Road stretched out smooth and straight before Hugo. Long ago the trees had been cut away from the road, and they hadn't grown back. Moonlight bright as street lamps lit Hugo's way.
Soon the path veered off to the left. On either side the thicker, taller trees thinned out, replaced by smaller ones with long, thin fronds. Patches of wetlands covered by fine, phosphorescent mist appeared on either side of the road. Frogs peeped and called out to one another, or jumped into pools with loud plops.
Suddenly a light-colored blur sprinted across the path. “Vincent?” Hugo's heart pounded because that darting creature didn't look like Vincent at all.
As far as Hugo knew, there were no other dogs on the Island. Smaller than Vincent, it wagged its tail at Hugo. It looked like a big Shih-Tzu, and its silky white fur glimmered silver in the moonlight.
“Hey, boy.” Hugo had some cheese scavenged from dinner for a midnight snack, and he handed a fragment to the dog. Its black eyes glittered, and for a dog of its size it had awfully long teeth, gleaming white against its dark gums.
“Here you go.” He was a bit nervous at those long teeth coming so near to his fingers. But the dog had impeccable manners. It took the bit of cheese delicately, then wolfed it down in one swift gulp.
Snack finished, the creature began to yipe and wiggle. When the hairs on Hugo's arms rose, he knew that the dog's display wasn't for him. Someone stood behind him on the path. He heard the soft in-and-out draw of breath, sensed a sweet familiar odor.
The dog shot past him. He turned around slowly, half-knowing who he would see. Pele wavered in the middle of the path, while the white dog leaped about her knees in excitement.
“Ordinary eternal machinery,” she said in a pale, wan voice. She looked terrible, her hair dark and lifeless as an extinct volcano. Her eyes were tired and her face was drawn. She looked like she had been through a war.
“Pele!" He opened his arms to welcome her in, but she stepped back, hand lifted in warning. The moonlight shone through her as if she was a sheer curtain.
“Ordinary eternal machinery,” she repeated.
He made a small questioning noise.
“Fixing things,” she said. “You wanted to know how you could fix things without it all going wrong. That's how. Practice the ordinary. Carry wood, draw water. Practice the everyday things, the things that last. Use the machinery which makes things work. The motion of work, ordinary work. Pallas knows. Pallas can help with that. She knows all about machinery.”
One good thing, as Pele talked, she seemed to solidify up a bit. She even started to cast a faint shadow on the dirt road.
“I think I get it,” Hugo said. “Just fix Desmond's boat the ordinary way. Nothing fancy.”
Pele gave a weak smile, and turned as if to go.
“Wait,” Hugo called out. “What happened to you?” He tried to put his arms around her again, but again she shook him off.
“No. If you do, I will burn you. Not that I want to, lover. But I'm that angry.”
“Pele, what is it? What's wrong?” He was almost wailing.
“I forget how strong the gods of your world are. The one who uses Hawai'i for his footstool is one of the worst. His price was high.” She shrunk down into herself, pulling her bright red and blue-flowered shawl tight around her shoulders as if it could shield her from some vile memory.
Hugo wanted to wait till she pulled herself together, but the words blurted out anyway. “Did it work? Is everybody all right? Did they get back?”
“Not yet. But they will.”
“Ben said it's gonna take a long time.”
“It won't. A week, maybe not even that.”
The questions tumbled right out. “Did you see them? Did they look okay? How was Claire?”
Some of Pele's old twinkle broke through. She was fully solid now, and had gotten a little of her glow back. “Tarawa's a good place, full of friends. They'll be safe there. They're all together, and they're fine. My colleague,” and she spit the word out like a foul taste, “my colleague knows how to get things done. How to clear the rocks from the path, so to speak.”
The world seemed to lift from Hugo's shoulders. “Pele, thank you so, so much.” Her skin glowed like embers in the fire at the end of the day. As a light rain started to fall, the tiny drops sizzled on her skin.
What kind of trouble had he gotten her into, with his selfish wish? “I'm sorry it caused such a hassle.”
Pele looked genuinely surprised. “Hassle? No, the hassle is what I would have gotten from my mother if I hadn't done this. That hassle would have made my small jaunt to Hawai'i look like a resort vacation.” Her old smile was back now, and another fire besides anger danced in her eyes. “Look, I'm not going to say it was nothing. I'm headed right now for the highest peak on the Island, where the liquid rock still burns. I have to bathe in it, to wash that god's stink off me.”
“Pele,” he said, aghast. What kind of horrible price did she have to pay?
“Lover, don't worry. I can see what you're thinking, and it wasn't like that. No one enters my bed that I don't want there. But the volcano is cooling even as we speak, and I need to take that dip. My will, and my mother's will too, is that your friends get back safe and sound.
“More than that, this little jaunt has shown me just what Kamapua'a and I need to do. This Island needs you. But those islands, our islands need us. And helping you, well, that got us on the move.”
“On the move? Where?”
“Back to the islands which once were ours. Back to Moloka'i, for starters.”
Hugo looked around, disappointed, suddenly bereft.
“Don't worry,” Pele said. “You'll have plenty of help here. You don't need me anymore.”
The white dog came up to Hugo with that canine expression which begged for another treat.
“Thanks,” Hugo said. “For everything.”
When Pele called the dog to her, it trotted over obediently, but not without one last, longing look at Hugo's pocket. “You little piggy,” she said with affection. “You're as greedy as Kamapua'a.” Now her face shone with bright, red-hot happiness. “Leave the man alone. He's got work to do.” To Hugo she said, “Just remember: ordinary eternal machinery.” Then she and the white creature slid away into the dark-green jungle.
* * * * * * * *
The Dharma road stopped at a shabby, rusted shelter, where dead street lamps arched over the broken concrete path. A few lamp posts had toppled over, and the wires jutting out of their broken bases looked like stiff metal intestines. Instead of the clean rush of the ocean, there was only the dull slap of sluggish water against the long, rickety dock. A stagnant fishy smell hung over the bay.
Once hundreds of people had ended their submarine journey here. They had walked down the gauntlet of the dock when it had been in good repair. They had passed under a bright, optimistic banner, greeted by people who folded their hands in a steeple and repeated word, Namaste.
The banner was shredded by storm and wind. Sea-birds had snatched long strips to line their nests. A few weeks earlier, Hugo had stood under it when it was fresh, as a cheery photographer cajoled them into smiling. Back then, the land's end of the dock had been piled high with crates, boxes, metal cases. Now, nothing was left but scattered pieces of rusted, unusable trash.
As Hugo carefully placed one foot on the dock, it creaked under his weight and tipped slightly to the right. One of the pylons was broken, probably. He took a deep breath and walked out, feeling the dock's unsteady sway. Out at the far end, the Elizabeth bobbled in the light waves. A metal outrigger loaded with boxes and cases was tied up next to it. Every so often a wave would drive the canoe into the pylons, where it made dull, clanking thuds.
Desmond stood at the farthest end, and tossed stones into the moon-speckled water. Pallas stood to his right, her boy-cut hair gleaming in the moonlight. Desmond ignored her.
“Yo, Desmondo,” Hugo called out. “And hi to you too, glow-y person. Hugo here, from the party.”
She greeted him with a solemn nod.
Desmond didn't turn around. “Yo, yourself."
“Am I, uh, interrupting?” said Hugo. “It looks like there's god-talk going on here.”
Something flapped out in the water, followed by a large splash.
“Sounds like a big one got away,” Hugo said. “That's what you get, trying to fish without a pole.”
Desmond sighed. “My life would be simpler, brother, if that were just a big fish.”
Pallas put her hand over her mouth, as if she didn't approve.
“What'd you get yourself into now, dude?”
“Nothing. Everything. Oh hell, that was Nāmaka, alright? She doesn't want me to leave. No, it's not like that, well, not entirely.”
Hugo frowned. “I thought you were gonna, like, go back to Penny and Charlie.”
Desmond missed Hugo's frown as he stared out towards the bay.
Pallas folded her arms, patient. She looked like she'd been there for a long time.
Desmond turned to Hugo, defensive. “Who said I wasn't going back? Nāmaka and me, we were just having a conversation. I promised Penny I wouldn't leave her again. Swore to it on my mother's grave, the sacred stone of the Scottish kings, you name it. D'you know, when I was in the hospital, she was thinking of leaving me?”
“Aw, come on,” Hugo said. “You and Penny, I saw you on the Searcher. You were like white on rice.”
Desmond shook his head, as if none of that mattered. “I could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. 'I don't know how much more of this I can take,' she said. I was healing so fast that it might as well have been a bloody miracle, but there she was, crying. So I promised her that when I got back on my feet, we'd sail for Australia, show Charlie the reefs. Then head over to New Zealand, hike in the mountains. That all this bloody business would be over, for good.”
Hugo's face was all panicked appeal. “Pallas, tell him, it wasn't his fault.”
She stood still and remote, her face cool as carved marble.
“Married life never was your department, was it?” Desmond snapped at her.
“Des, I really do not think you oughta talk to her that way. I read this comic once. This guy fought in some Greek war and then tried to get home. The dude who hid inside the wooden horse.”
“Odysseus,” Desmond said, uninterested.
“He pissed off some goddess and it took him another ten years to get back to his wife and kid.”
Now Pallas did crack a faint smile. “That was Hera's work, not mine. I happened to be helping that particular sailor at the time. As for personal knowledge, Sea-Farer, I don't have to be a fish to know how one moves in the water.”
“You're not, uh, gonna do that to Desmond, are you?” Hugo said in a pleading voice. “Ten years, man, that would suck. Charlie would be almost a teenager by then.”
“All right, I'm sorry,” Desmond said, more petulant than sorrowful. “But look what happened. I finally get Penny calmed down. She leaves the room to go get a cup of coffee. Some nurse comes in, a man I don't recognize, and injects painkiller into my IV line. But it's not painkiller, is it? Because everything goes black, and I wake up here on this bloody Island. Then I go down into that bleeding well of light, thinking it's all going to be better, but it's not. I'm not in a better place. I'm still here.”
“Desmond, I said I'd get you home.”
“And what if there's no home to get back to?”
Hugo pulled Desmond by the shirt-front, getting right into his face. “All right, just say there's not. But you can't do this to your kid, man. My dad walked out on my mom. It's not like he didn't love her or nothing, either. He stopped talking, she stopped talking, and before you know it, it was a year, then two, then five. Then it was like he was gone almost forever. It sucked, you know? Because when he came back, I hated him for awhile, and that sucked even worse.”
“The son of David speaks true,” Pallas said. “You should heed him.”
Hugo let Desmond go. “Pallas, he's just upset. Don't be mad at him and make him take ten years to get home.”
“Don't worry. Your fair speech makes up for his.”
Desmond threw another flat stone into the water. It skipped across the moonlit surface a few times before sinking with a plop, and right where it landed, the surface of the water broke. A dark, seal-slick head appeared, followed by black eyes glittering with cold fire. As her head rose out of the parting waters, long hair streamed over her shoulders like a blanket of wet satin.
“Hey, Nāmaka,” Hugo said. “Come on over, join the fun.”
Nāmaka glided smoothly towards them, without leaving a wake. She pulled herself halfway onto the dock and rested there, water dropping off her dress slick as fish scales.
“Nāmaka—” Hugo was ready to beg if necessary.
She cut him off and turned to Desmond. “So I can't talk you out of it.”
Desmond just shook his head.
“You'll be miserable.”
“Look, I don't want to hear a word against Penny.”
“Who said anything about Penny? My sister Pele is the home-wrecker, not me. Just because we shared a few kisses at a party doesn't mean you get a merman's tail and meet the rest of the family.”
Desmond's blush glowed pink in the moonlight.
Hugo said to Pallas, “Maybe these two need some time alone.”
“No!” both Desmond and Nāmaka said at once, then fell silent.
Hugo shifted from one foot to another, nervous. Then he stopped, because that made the rickety dock really sway.
Pallas broke the awkward moment. “Sea-farer, let's look at this a different way. It's not Penny who will make you miserable, although you've certainly contributed to her misery over the years, haven't you?”
“You sound just like my dear departed father-in-law,” Desmond said with a trace of sullenness.
“Speaking of which. Proof has to reach the world that Charles Widmore is dead, for two reasons. First, because upon his death, your wife will become very, very rich. Even richer than she is now. Second, it's well known, as you yourself have said, that there was no love lost between the two of you. Or between your wife and her father, for that matter.”
Hugo knew right away what Pallas was getting at. “Dude, didn't you ever watch Law and Order? If anybody suspects foul play, Penny's the first person they'll go after. You can't leave her high and dry like that. Even if she is mad at you, which I doubt.”
“Correct, Protector.” Pallas turned from Hugo to Nāmaka. “Lady of the ocean, we need your help.”
Nāmaka frowned, as if the subject was still under debate.
Pallas crouched down to her. “I've seen his fate woven in the woof of time. It is to neither stay nor go, to remain neither in this world nor in his own. There are other gods in the sea, as you well know, and they have claimed him for their own. For him they will open channels upon which others may not sail. And this departure marks the first step of that journey.”
“What in the bloody hell is she talking about?” Desmond said to Hugo.
“I dunno, dude. But you ought to listen to her. Nāmaka, too. Remember what Pele said at the party? Without Nāmaka you don't get anywhere.”
Desmond threw his hands in the air. As he paced the deck, the loose boards creaked even louder. “Some promise. Some 'protector.' I thought you could do this. You're supposed to have the power and all. In general, brother, I smell a giant pile of steaming bollocks. I don't think you could ever get me off this rock. Ironic, isn't it, that the only ones who really could were Charles Widmore with his freighter, his pilot, his chopper. And then Penny. Nobody else that I can see.”
Pallas drew herself up to her full height, then gave Desmond the same unimpressed look which a mother directs at a toddler having a tantrum.
Nāmaka wasn't so restrained. She waved towards the Elizabeth and said, “So, Pallas, should I just sink that old tub over there? Because that may be the only way to get his attention and shut his disrespectful, ungrateful, whining mouth.”
Hugo made a low whistle of appreciation. “Wow, you sound just like Pele.”
“Do I?” she said, the edge still sharp in her voice. “We did have the same mother, after all. I guess we learned from the best.”
Hugo heavily rested his hand on Desmond's shoulder. “Desmondo, bro, I think you need to listen to the ladies here.”
“It's just that—” Desmond started.
Pallas spoke over him. “Neither your rationalizations nor your guilt interest me in the slightest. This is what you're going to do. Did you touch that outrigger over there at any time since it's been here? The one full of boxes?”
“No,” Desmond said. “But I don't see—”
“Ten years, dude,” Hugo said in a warning voice. “Better let her talk.”
Pallas waved her hand towards a large Halliburton strong-box in the outrigger, and the lock sprang open at once. Hugo lurched backward at the sight inside: a wide variety of small arms and ammo.
From the pocket of her her loose, calf-length trousers, Pallas took something small and black, made of leather and dripping wet.
“What the hell is that?” Desmond said, squinting.
“What your people call a 'wallet.'”
“That's Charles Widmore's wallet, isn't it?” said Hugo.
“Where the devil did you get that?” Desmond asked.
“I saw where the women buried him. One of the bears dug him up for me.”
Hugo winced. “Oh, man, that's gross.”
Pallas tossed the wallet into the strong-box, where it hit the bottom with a squelch. She waved again. The box snapped shut with a loud click and she tossed it into the bay, where it bobbed to the surface like a cork.
Pallas said, “Nāmaka, might I kindly have some assistance?”
Nāmaka gave a little pout, but flicked at the water. All at once, the box began to drift away from the dock and out to sea.
“I get it!” Hugo was practically jumping up and down now, which made the dock sway even worse than before. “That way they get the message that Widmore's gone. They get his gun-box, find his wallet, he gets declared missing at sea, but Desmond's not implied.”
“Implicated,” Pallas said. “But yes, that's it exactly.”
“Are you sure you never watched Law and Order?”
Pallas gave Hugo a cool smile before climbing into the outrigger. She tossed the rest of the boxes into the bay, where they drifted out to sea in an orderly line.
“What was in those?” Desmond asked. “Mightn’t there have been something we could use?”
“You need nothing of Charles Widmore's.” Pallas stepped back onto the dock, which didn't sway an inch beneath her feet. “Now, back to the matter at hand. By the time you're sea-ready and provisioned, this flotsam will have been discovered.”
“I have to admit, it's bloody brilliant,” Desmond said. “I guess I misjudged you.”
“At least he admits it,” Nāmaka said.
“Opinions don't interest me, only actions.” Pallas said. “Heed my words, Sea-Farer. Your wife's new fortune will bring you neither happiness nor security. It's not your world anymore, Desmond. It hasn't been since you started to travel without heading or bearing through the sea of time.”
“You sound like someone I met. An old woman full of secrets and surprises.”
“Your Mrs. Hawking. I'll take that as a compliment.”
The mention of Eloise Hawking's name gave Hugo got a small shiver down his back. He said, “You know, you and Penny, you're always welcome. And Charlie would love it here. There are the kids, and, you know, uh, I'd miss you.” Afraid that he'd pushed too hard, he ended with, “But it's up to you, of course. And Penny.”
“Much obliged,” Desmond sounded still unconvinced.
Nāmaka gave Desmond a little splash to get his attention. “Don't worry about your boat. I'll watch her and make sure she suffers no harm.” Then without another word, she sank beneath the waters.
Hugo turned to thank Pallas, but she was gone as well. Only the two men stood at the end of the dock, while the lowering moon hovered over the tops of the dark trees which ringed the bay.
Finally Hugo said, “Look, Desmondo, why don't you come back to the Barracks and bunk down with me 'fore you go? Sullivan's moved out, so there's plenty of room. And hey, maybe if we're lucky, we can grab a midnight snack.”
(continued)
(A/N: the chapter title comes from an expression coined by Leonard Cohen in his novel, Beautiful Losers.)
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: 3971 words
Status: Complete
Notes: Fantasy and supernatural elements. Think American Gods on the Island.
Summary: Hurley is now Protector of 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 20: Ordinary Eternal Machinery
As the nights passed, Desmond still slept in the Elizabeth, as if hovering over her would magically stock her galley, patch the shot-up cabin galley door, and put the yacht in dry-dock so he could check her hull for seaworthiness.
Hugo could tell that Des was getting frustrated. Nor was Hugo entirely selfless. If push came to shove, he had to admit that he missed Desmond. Once in awhile he could show his face in New Otherton, couldn't he?
Some people just needed a personal invitation. Maybe Desmond was one of these, and Hugo decided to deliver it himself.
Northwest of the Barracks, the old Dharma road ran down to the dock by the bay. As Hugo plodded along, he pondered.
Should he fix the Elizabeth himself? Desmond didn't need to know. And it was critical that no one else did, either.
As soon as Hugo thought of it, he dismissed it. It would freak people out to see the Elizabeth fixed as if by magic and provisioned out of nowhere. For an instant Hugo felt sorry for Jacob and Jacob's seemingly callous indifference. Because once you started, where did it stop?
As a kid, Hugo had watched this Disney cartoon that had scared the crap out of him. Mickey Mouse was a flunky for this magician guy, a kind of crabby Dumbledore. That wizard dude was downright terrifying, with his bristling brows and hawk nose. Mickey had to fill the wizard's gigantic bathtub, but that was a drag, so he stole the wizard's hat and enchanted the broom to do the work for him. Of course it all went straight to hell, because once the brooms got going, Mickey couldn't make them stop. It only ended when the wizard stepped in to put everything right.
But what wizard would fix things up for him if he screwed up, if he started something he couldn't finish?
And even if he didn't screw it up, was that really how he was supposed to do things, by calling up a magic he didn't even understand?
The Dharma Road stretched out smooth and straight before Hugo. Long ago the trees had been cut away from the road, and they hadn't grown back. Moonlight bright as street lamps lit Hugo's way.
Soon the path veered off to the left. On either side the thicker, taller trees thinned out, replaced by smaller ones with long, thin fronds. Patches of wetlands covered by fine, phosphorescent mist appeared on either side of the road. Frogs peeped and called out to one another, or jumped into pools with loud plops.
Suddenly a light-colored blur sprinted across the path. “Vincent?” Hugo's heart pounded because that darting creature didn't look like Vincent at all.
As far as Hugo knew, there were no other dogs on the Island. Smaller than Vincent, it wagged its tail at Hugo. It looked like a big Shih-Tzu, and its silky white fur glimmered silver in the moonlight.
“Hey, boy.” Hugo had some cheese scavenged from dinner for a midnight snack, and he handed a fragment to the dog. Its black eyes glittered, and for a dog of its size it had awfully long teeth, gleaming white against its dark gums.
“Here you go.” He was a bit nervous at those long teeth coming so near to his fingers. But the dog had impeccable manners. It took the bit of cheese delicately, then wolfed it down in one swift gulp.
Snack finished, the creature began to yipe and wiggle. When the hairs on Hugo's arms rose, he knew that the dog's display wasn't for him. Someone stood behind him on the path. He heard the soft in-and-out draw of breath, sensed a sweet familiar odor.
The dog shot past him. He turned around slowly, half-knowing who he would see. Pele wavered in the middle of the path, while the white dog leaped about her knees in excitement.
“Ordinary eternal machinery,” she said in a pale, wan voice. She looked terrible, her hair dark and lifeless as an extinct volcano. Her eyes were tired and her face was drawn. She looked like she had been through a war.
“Pele!" He opened his arms to welcome her in, but she stepped back, hand lifted in warning. The moonlight shone through her as if she was a sheer curtain.
“Ordinary eternal machinery,” she repeated.
He made a small questioning noise.
“Fixing things,” she said. “You wanted to know how you could fix things without it all going wrong. That's how. Practice the ordinary. Carry wood, draw water. Practice the everyday things, the things that last. Use the machinery which makes things work. The motion of work, ordinary work. Pallas knows. Pallas can help with that. She knows all about machinery.”
One good thing, as Pele talked, she seemed to solidify up a bit. She even started to cast a faint shadow on the dirt road.
“I think I get it,” Hugo said. “Just fix Desmond's boat the ordinary way. Nothing fancy.”
Pele gave a weak smile, and turned as if to go.
“Wait,” Hugo called out. “What happened to you?” He tried to put his arms around her again, but again she shook him off.
“No. If you do, I will burn you. Not that I want to, lover. But I'm that angry.”
“Pele, what is it? What's wrong?” He was almost wailing.
“I forget how strong the gods of your world are. The one who uses Hawai'i for his footstool is one of the worst. His price was high.” She shrunk down into herself, pulling her bright red and blue-flowered shawl tight around her shoulders as if it could shield her from some vile memory.
Hugo wanted to wait till she pulled herself together, but the words blurted out anyway. “Did it work? Is everybody all right? Did they get back?”
“Not yet. But they will.”
“Ben said it's gonna take a long time.”
“It won't. A week, maybe not even that.”
The questions tumbled right out. “Did you see them? Did they look okay? How was Claire?”
Some of Pele's old twinkle broke through. She was fully solid now, and had gotten a little of her glow back. “Tarawa's a good place, full of friends. They'll be safe there. They're all together, and they're fine. My colleague,” and she spit the word out like a foul taste, “my colleague knows how to get things done. How to clear the rocks from the path, so to speak.”
The world seemed to lift from Hugo's shoulders. “Pele, thank you so, so much.” Her skin glowed like embers in the fire at the end of the day. As a light rain started to fall, the tiny drops sizzled on her skin.
What kind of trouble had he gotten her into, with his selfish wish? “I'm sorry it caused such a hassle.”
Pele looked genuinely surprised. “Hassle? No, the hassle is what I would have gotten from my mother if I hadn't done this. That hassle would have made my small jaunt to Hawai'i look like a resort vacation.” Her old smile was back now, and another fire besides anger danced in her eyes. “Look, I'm not going to say it was nothing. I'm headed right now for the highest peak on the Island, where the liquid rock still burns. I have to bathe in it, to wash that god's stink off me.”
“Pele,” he said, aghast. What kind of horrible price did she have to pay?
“Lover, don't worry. I can see what you're thinking, and it wasn't like that. No one enters my bed that I don't want there. But the volcano is cooling even as we speak, and I need to take that dip. My will, and my mother's will too, is that your friends get back safe and sound.
“More than that, this little jaunt has shown me just what Kamapua'a and I need to do. This Island needs you. But those islands, our islands need us. And helping you, well, that got us on the move.”
“On the move? Where?”
“Back to the islands which once were ours. Back to Moloka'i, for starters.”
Hugo looked around, disappointed, suddenly bereft.
“Don't worry,” Pele said. “You'll have plenty of help here. You don't need me anymore.”
The white dog came up to Hugo with that canine expression which begged for another treat.
“Thanks,” Hugo said. “For everything.”
When Pele called the dog to her, it trotted over obediently, but not without one last, longing look at Hugo's pocket. “You little piggy,” she said with affection. “You're as greedy as Kamapua'a.” Now her face shone with bright, red-hot happiness. “Leave the man alone. He's got work to do.” To Hugo she said, “Just remember: ordinary eternal machinery.” Then she and the white creature slid away into the dark-green jungle.
The Dharma road stopped at a shabby, rusted shelter, where dead street lamps arched over the broken concrete path. A few lamp posts had toppled over, and the wires jutting out of their broken bases looked like stiff metal intestines. Instead of the clean rush of the ocean, there was only the dull slap of sluggish water against the long, rickety dock. A stagnant fishy smell hung over the bay.
Once hundreds of people had ended their submarine journey here. They had walked down the gauntlet of the dock when it had been in good repair. They had passed under a bright, optimistic banner, greeted by people who folded their hands in a steeple and repeated word, Namaste.
The banner was shredded by storm and wind. Sea-birds had snatched long strips to line their nests. A few weeks earlier, Hugo had stood under it when it was fresh, as a cheery photographer cajoled them into smiling. Back then, the land's end of the dock had been piled high with crates, boxes, metal cases. Now, nothing was left but scattered pieces of rusted, unusable trash.
As Hugo carefully placed one foot on the dock, it creaked under his weight and tipped slightly to the right. One of the pylons was broken, probably. He took a deep breath and walked out, feeling the dock's unsteady sway. Out at the far end, the Elizabeth bobbled in the light waves. A metal outrigger loaded with boxes and cases was tied up next to it. Every so often a wave would drive the canoe into the pylons, where it made dull, clanking thuds.
Desmond stood at the farthest end, and tossed stones into the moon-speckled water. Pallas stood to his right, her boy-cut hair gleaming in the moonlight. Desmond ignored her.
“Yo, Desmondo,” Hugo called out. “And hi to you too, glow-y person. Hugo here, from the party.”
She greeted him with a solemn nod.
Desmond didn't turn around. “Yo, yourself."
“Am I, uh, interrupting?” said Hugo. “It looks like there's god-talk going on here.”
Something flapped out in the water, followed by a large splash.
“Sounds like a big one got away,” Hugo said. “That's what you get, trying to fish without a pole.”
Desmond sighed. “My life would be simpler, brother, if that were just a big fish.”
Pallas put her hand over her mouth, as if she didn't approve.
“What'd you get yourself into now, dude?”
“Nothing. Everything. Oh hell, that was Nāmaka, alright? She doesn't want me to leave. No, it's not like that, well, not entirely.”
Hugo frowned. “I thought you were gonna, like, go back to Penny and Charlie.”
Desmond missed Hugo's frown as he stared out towards the bay.
Pallas folded her arms, patient. She looked like she'd been there for a long time.
Desmond turned to Hugo, defensive. “Who said I wasn't going back? Nāmaka and me, we were just having a conversation. I promised Penny I wouldn't leave her again. Swore to it on my mother's grave, the sacred stone of the Scottish kings, you name it. D'you know, when I was in the hospital, she was thinking of leaving me?”
“Aw, come on,” Hugo said. “You and Penny, I saw you on the Searcher. You were like white on rice.”
Desmond shook his head, as if none of that mattered. “I could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. 'I don't know how much more of this I can take,' she said. I was healing so fast that it might as well have been a bloody miracle, but there she was, crying. So I promised her that when I got back on my feet, we'd sail for Australia, show Charlie the reefs. Then head over to New Zealand, hike in the mountains. That all this bloody business would be over, for good.”
Hugo's face was all panicked appeal. “Pallas, tell him, it wasn't his fault.”
She stood still and remote, her face cool as carved marble.
“Married life never was your department, was it?” Desmond snapped at her.
“Des, I really do not think you oughta talk to her that way. I read this comic once. This guy fought in some Greek war and then tried to get home. The dude who hid inside the wooden horse.”
“Odysseus,” Desmond said, uninterested.
“He pissed off some goddess and it took him another ten years to get back to his wife and kid.”
Now Pallas did crack a faint smile. “That was Hera's work, not mine. I happened to be helping that particular sailor at the time. As for personal knowledge, Sea-Farer, I don't have to be a fish to know how one moves in the water.”
“You're not, uh, gonna do that to Desmond, are you?” Hugo said in a pleading voice. “Ten years, man, that would suck. Charlie would be almost a teenager by then.”
“All right, I'm sorry,” Desmond said, more petulant than sorrowful. “But look what happened. I finally get Penny calmed down. She leaves the room to go get a cup of coffee. Some nurse comes in, a man I don't recognize, and injects painkiller into my IV line. But it's not painkiller, is it? Because everything goes black, and I wake up here on this bloody Island. Then I go down into that bleeding well of light, thinking it's all going to be better, but it's not. I'm not in a better place. I'm still here.”
“Desmond, I said I'd get you home.”
“And what if there's no home to get back to?”
Hugo pulled Desmond by the shirt-front, getting right into his face. “All right, just say there's not. But you can't do this to your kid, man. My dad walked out on my mom. It's not like he didn't love her or nothing, either. He stopped talking, she stopped talking, and before you know it, it was a year, then two, then five. Then it was like he was gone almost forever. It sucked, you know? Because when he came back, I hated him for awhile, and that sucked even worse.”
“The son of David speaks true,” Pallas said. “You should heed him.”
Hugo let Desmond go. “Pallas, he's just upset. Don't be mad at him and make him take ten years to get home.”
“Don't worry. Your fair speech makes up for his.”
Desmond threw another flat stone into the water. It skipped across the moonlit surface a few times before sinking with a plop, and right where it landed, the surface of the water broke. A dark, seal-slick head appeared, followed by black eyes glittering with cold fire. As her head rose out of the parting waters, long hair streamed over her shoulders like a blanket of wet satin.
“Hey, Nāmaka,” Hugo said. “Come on over, join the fun.”
Nāmaka glided smoothly towards them, without leaving a wake. She pulled herself halfway onto the dock and rested there, water dropping off her dress slick as fish scales.
“Nāmaka—” Hugo was ready to beg if necessary.
She cut him off and turned to Desmond. “So I can't talk you out of it.”
Desmond just shook his head.
“You'll be miserable.”
“Look, I don't want to hear a word against Penny.”
“Who said anything about Penny? My sister Pele is the home-wrecker, not me. Just because we shared a few kisses at a party doesn't mean you get a merman's tail and meet the rest of the family.”
Desmond's blush glowed pink in the moonlight.
Hugo said to Pallas, “Maybe these two need some time alone.”
“No!” both Desmond and Nāmaka said at once, then fell silent.
Hugo shifted from one foot to another, nervous. Then he stopped, because that made the rickety dock really sway.
Pallas broke the awkward moment. “Sea-farer, let's look at this a different way. It's not Penny who will make you miserable, although you've certainly contributed to her misery over the years, haven't you?”
“You sound just like my dear departed father-in-law,” Desmond said with a trace of sullenness.
“Speaking of which. Proof has to reach the world that Charles Widmore is dead, for two reasons. First, because upon his death, your wife will become very, very rich. Even richer than she is now. Second, it's well known, as you yourself have said, that there was no love lost between the two of you. Or between your wife and her father, for that matter.”
Hugo knew right away what Pallas was getting at. “Dude, didn't you ever watch Law and Order? If anybody suspects foul play, Penny's the first person they'll go after. You can't leave her high and dry like that. Even if she is mad at you, which I doubt.”
“Correct, Protector.” Pallas turned from Hugo to Nāmaka. “Lady of the ocean, we need your help.”
Nāmaka frowned, as if the subject was still under debate.
Pallas crouched down to her. “I've seen his fate woven in the woof of time. It is to neither stay nor go, to remain neither in this world nor in his own. There are other gods in the sea, as you well know, and they have claimed him for their own. For him they will open channels upon which others may not sail. And this departure marks the first step of that journey.”
“What in the bloody hell is she talking about?” Desmond said to Hugo.
“I dunno, dude. But you ought to listen to her. Nāmaka, too. Remember what Pele said at the party? Without Nāmaka you don't get anywhere.”
Desmond threw his hands in the air. As he paced the deck, the loose boards creaked even louder. “Some promise. Some 'protector.' I thought you could do this. You're supposed to have the power and all. In general, brother, I smell a giant pile of steaming bollocks. I don't think you could ever get me off this rock. Ironic, isn't it, that the only ones who really could were Charles Widmore with his freighter, his pilot, his chopper. And then Penny. Nobody else that I can see.”
Pallas drew herself up to her full height, then gave Desmond the same unimpressed look which a mother directs at a toddler having a tantrum.
Nāmaka wasn't so restrained. She waved towards the Elizabeth and said, “So, Pallas, should I just sink that old tub over there? Because that may be the only way to get his attention and shut his disrespectful, ungrateful, whining mouth.”
Hugo made a low whistle of appreciation. “Wow, you sound just like Pele.”
“Do I?” she said, the edge still sharp in her voice. “We did have the same mother, after all. I guess we learned from the best.”
Hugo heavily rested his hand on Desmond's shoulder. “Desmondo, bro, I think you need to listen to the ladies here.”
“It's just that—” Desmond started.
Pallas spoke over him. “Neither your rationalizations nor your guilt interest me in the slightest. This is what you're going to do. Did you touch that outrigger over there at any time since it's been here? The one full of boxes?”
“No,” Desmond said. “But I don't see—”
“Ten years, dude,” Hugo said in a warning voice. “Better let her talk.”
Pallas waved her hand towards a large Halliburton strong-box in the outrigger, and the lock sprang open at once. Hugo lurched backward at the sight inside: a wide variety of small arms and ammo.
From the pocket of her her loose, calf-length trousers, Pallas took something small and black, made of leather and dripping wet.
“What the hell is that?” Desmond said, squinting.
“What your people call a 'wallet.'”
“That's Charles Widmore's wallet, isn't it?” said Hugo.
“Where the devil did you get that?” Desmond asked.
“I saw where the women buried him. One of the bears dug him up for me.”
Hugo winced. “Oh, man, that's gross.”
Pallas tossed the wallet into the strong-box, where it hit the bottom with a squelch. She waved again. The box snapped shut with a loud click and she tossed it into the bay, where it bobbed to the surface like a cork.
Pallas said, “Nāmaka, might I kindly have some assistance?”
Nāmaka gave a little pout, but flicked at the water. All at once, the box began to drift away from the dock and out to sea.
“I get it!” Hugo was practically jumping up and down now, which made the dock sway even worse than before. “That way they get the message that Widmore's gone. They get his gun-box, find his wallet, he gets declared missing at sea, but Desmond's not implied.”
“Implicated,” Pallas said. “But yes, that's it exactly.”
“Are you sure you never watched Law and Order?”
Pallas gave Hugo a cool smile before climbing into the outrigger. She tossed the rest of the boxes into the bay, where they drifted out to sea in an orderly line.
“What was in those?” Desmond asked. “Mightn’t there have been something we could use?”
“You need nothing of Charles Widmore's.” Pallas stepped back onto the dock, which didn't sway an inch beneath her feet. “Now, back to the matter at hand. By the time you're sea-ready and provisioned, this flotsam will have been discovered.”
“I have to admit, it's bloody brilliant,” Desmond said. “I guess I misjudged you.”
“At least he admits it,” Nāmaka said.
“Opinions don't interest me, only actions.” Pallas said. “Heed my words, Sea-Farer. Your wife's new fortune will bring you neither happiness nor security. It's not your world anymore, Desmond. It hasn't been since you started to travel without heading or bearing through the sea of time.”
“You sound like someone I met. An old woman full of secrets and surprises.”
“Your Mrs. Hawking. I'll take that as a compliment.”
The mention of Eloise Hawking's name gave Hugo got a small shiver down his back. He said, “You know, you and Penny, you're always welcome. And Charlie would love it here. There are the kids, and, you know, uh, I'd miss you.” Afraid that he'd pushed too hard, he ended with, “But it's up to you, of course. And Penny.”
“Much obliged,” Desmond sounded still unconvinced.
Nāmaka gave Desmond a little splash to get his attention. “Don't worry about your boat. I'll watch her and make sure she suffers no harm.” Then without another word, she sank beneath the waters.
Hugo turned to thank Pallas, but she was gone as well. Only the two men stood at the end of the dock, while the lowering moon hovered over the tops of the dark trees which ringed the bay.
Finally Hugo said, “Look, Desmondo, why don't you come back to the Barracks and bunk down with me 'fore you go? Sullivan's moved out, so there's plenty of room. And hey, maybe if we're lucky, we can grab a midnight snack.”
(continued)
(A/N: the chapter title comes from an expression coined by Leonard Cohen in his novel, Beautiful Losers.)