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stefanie_beanTitle: Surfing the Bardo
Chapter Title: Chapter 3: Safe House (Part 3)
Genre: Angst with a happy ending; Drama
Characters: Hugo Reyes, Claire Littleton, Kate Austen, Aaron Littleton, James "Sawyer" Ford
Relationships: Slow burn Hurley/Claire, past Jack/Kate, eventual Sawyer/Kate
Rating: M
Length: 3329 words
Status: WIP
Notes: TW for canon trauma, mental health issues, suicidal thoughts.
Summary: After Kate and Claire return from the Island, Claire starts to rebuild her relationship with Aaron, while she and Hugo explore their growing feelings for each other. Meanwhile, Kate has to figure out what to do with the rest of her life. And while things start out rough, they eventually do get better.
Chapter 3: Safe House (Part 3)
Hugo pulled up behind his parents' new house, a sprawling one-story bungalow which replaced their Santa Monica mansion. A screen of oak trees shaded the front porch, and the driveway curved around the back of the double lot. Hugo's parents had picked their house for privacy this time, not luxury. Bougainvillea in full flower covered the sunny south wall, where the magenta flowers glowed against the rich yellow stucco.
Grandma Titi always had a knack with plants, and had passed on some of her skill to her daughter. In the back yard, Carmen dug alongside a neighborhood teenager as they planted fruit trees.
“Hey, Mom,” Hugo said.
His mother dropped her shovel and ran up to him, enveloping him in a hug. When she let him come up for air, she pulled two twenty-dollar bills from her pocket and handed them to the boy. “Eduardo, that's enough for today. Come on back tomorrow, before lunch.”
“You got it, Mrs. Reyes. Wow, thanks!”
After the boy left, Hugo looked into the shallow hole. “Was he here an hour, even?”
Carmen gave Hugo's arm a light smack. “What, since when did you become stingy? Don't you ever let me catch you turning into some kind of miser. Eduardo there, his father just had a heart attack and he can't work. With you and Diego both gone, there's a lot to do around here. Anyway, I wanted him to go home so I could talk to you.”
Hugo picked up the shovel and started to dig. When his mom got that tone in her voice, sometimes he could distract her by doing work. Complimenting her cooking had the same effect. “So what are these, Ma? Apples? Peaches?”
“Plums, Mr. Don't Change the Subject.”
“Yay, plum jam. Can't wait.”
Carmen smiled. “Well, you better learn to wait. Three years till they make enough fruit for it to be worthwhile. So now, tell me why you have to stay with two women, and not with your parents.”
“Three women, Ma. Claire's mom was there too.”
His father came out the back door into the garden. “Hugo, you spent the night with three women? And your mother let you live?” David gave his son a thumbs-up.
“Dad, that was just a dumb text. I'm not a compose-on-the-fly guy.”
Carmen raised an eyebrow. “If it were Diego, I would have taken a broom to him. Anyway, I just got off the phone with Mrs. Littleton."
Uh, oh. That was fast work.
“She's very nice.”
That was how these conversations always started. Hugo looked over to his dad for help, but David just shrugged. “I'll bet you haven't had lunch, son. Think I'll make you a sandwich or two for the road.”
“Just one,” Carmen snapped. “He could still stand to drop a hundred. I don't know how your brother does it, Hugo. Nothing but pizza, chili dogs, chips, all that basura, and barely a spare tire.”
“How deep you want this hole, Ma?” He wasn't sure whether he meant the one for the tree, or the one his mother was preparing for him to fall into.
“Hugo, put down the shovel. This Mrs. Littleton, she's got that Masterpiece Theater sound. She's what, English?”
“Australian.”
“Pickles, onions, or both?” David called through the open back door.
“Ma, I'm going to help Dad. He tends to overdo it in the kitchen.”
“You're right. Let's go keep an eye on him,” said Carmen.
At the polished kitchen table, Carmen poured Hugo an orange soda and set it before him. “Don't give me that look, mister. It's diet. This Mrs. Littleton said that you knew Claire from the plane crash, from when you were on the Island the first time.” She leaned forward expectantly, elbows on the table. “She said this Claire was a friend of yours. So why haven't I met her yet?”
“Ma, some pretty bad things happened to Claire. Remember I told you that while we were on the Island, a lot of people died? There was a bunch of other stuff, too. Claire was kidnapped, which is why she never made it to the chopper.”
“Kidnapped!” Carmen said. “By who?”
“Someone very bad. He's dead now.” With his mom, some Island truths needed to be dealt out in dribs and drabs.
“Mother of God,” Carmen said as she made the sign of the cross. “That poor girl.”
David lowered a double-decker chicken-and-Canadian bacon sandwich in front of Hugo, then exchanged a long look with his wife. “Son, I hope you don't hold it against her. Whatever happened, it wasn't her fault.”
“What do you mean, Dad? Of course I don't hold it against her.”
“That's good, buddy. Some guys would.”
“Ma, what's he talking about?” Carmen didn't answer, so Hugo went on. “Did Mrs. Littleton say anything else?”
Carmen said, “Your friend Kate, she's having a hard time.”
“She lost her fiance, Ma.”
“Jack. The one who showed up late to your party.”
“He got busy at the hospital that day. Ma, how do you remember all that stuff?”
David chuckled. “Sooner you learn this, Hugo, the better. Women and elephants never forget. This girl Claire, what she look like?”
Carmen gave an indignant sniff. “Not that we would even have to ask, if he would have introduced us.”
“Ma, I explained. She had a rough time on the Island. I thought it would be better to let her settle in first.”
“At least Kate comes down to visit us once in awhile, even if she prefers Jack's mother.”
“Carmencita, that's natural,” said David. “She was going to be Kate's mother-in-law. She practically is, anyway. So what does this mystery girl look like, son?”
“Um, well, she has blue eyes. She's blonde, I guess. Little, but, uh...”
“Curves in all the right places?” David said, his eyes glinting a little.
“Yeah, something like that.”
Carmen gave a little cough. “At least she's Catholic.”
“Ma!” Hugo exclaimed. “You asked Mrs. Littleton that?”
“I didn't have to,” Carmen said, her chin lifting with pure righteousness. “How nosy do you think I am? Claire told her mother that there was a priest on the plane, and that he baptized Claire and her little boy.”
“Mr. Eko,” Hugo said. Even as a ghost, Eko hadn't said much. He wished he'd gotten to spend more time with Eko when he was alive.
“Mr. Eko? Is that any way to refer to a man of the cloth? That’s Father Eko to you, Mister. Since she was baptized by a Catholic priest, that makes her a Catholic. Why did I bother sending you to learn your catechism if you forget all of it?”
“Okay, Ma, whatever.”
“Don't you whatever me. A husband and wife, they should be of the same religion. Look what happened to your brother. At least that—“
“Ma, don't go there,” Hugo said in a warning voice.
“That woman was never baptized. So at least he could get an annulment.”
David laughed. “I don't think Diego's gonna make use of that annulment anytime soon. He's too busy driving trucks up in North Dakota, keeping the local working gals busy. So, Hugo, this girl. She got a boyfriend?”
“No, Dad.”
“She's got a little boy,” Carmen announced. “Like I said.”
“So she's got a kid,” David said in a musing tone. “She not divorced, is she?”
“Don't worry,” Carmen said to her husband. “I already asked that.”
Hugo groaned. “Ma, for God's sake.”
“Hugo, you think we would be sitting here talking about this, if she was divorced? So she made a mistake with the wrong guy. He ran out on her. But I guess, Mr. Ladies' Man, you know all about these things.”
Hugo just shook his head, wondering how long this roller coaster ride was going to go on, and how he was going to get off.
Unperturbed, Carmen continued. “That was a good idea, lining up that place in the canyon. Fresh air, that's what her mother said she needs. Claire can get out into the country, into the fresh air.”
“Your mother, she swears by fresh air,” said David. “The windows in Casa Reyes are always open.” As if on cue, a breeze blew in through the back doorway, bringing with it the scent of the climbing roses which so far were surviving the summer heat. “You want another sandwich, Hugo?”
“No, he doesn't,” said Carmen. “He puts on more weight, this girl might not look at him.”
“Ma, give me a break, alright?”
David screwed up his face to suppress the laughter. "Carmencita, if she cared, do you think you and her mom would have even had that phone conversation?"
Hugo tried to interrupt. "Ma, Dad, I told you, I got a plane to catch, and a bunch of phone calls to make first. Let's not argue about this, okay?”
Carmen and David both ignored Hugo. "Don't encourage him," she said to her husband.
“Relax, cariño,” David said. “Maybe she likes big guys. I don't hear you complaining much,” and he patted his paunch.
“Dad,” Hugo said. Conversations in his house were like playing ping-pong. Sometimes you could skip it right off the edge of the table, and sometimes it just went flying wild and hit the wall. This was one of those times. “You know those medical supplies I asked you about last time, the ones I need to take back with me? Did you get them shipped to the Herarat Aviation terminal?”
“Done. You gonna wear a suit to the airport this time, like I suggested? Tie back that mane? And for the love of all that's good and holy, don't speed. 'Cause I don't want to have to bail you out of the LA lockup.”
“I'm gonna get my stuff together.” Hugo gave a resigned sigh as he headed for his bedroom, his phone already flipped open and ready to go.
*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*
The inside of the Herarat Airlines general-aviation hangar was dark, despite the blazing late-afternoon sun which burned the tarmac to a deep bronze. Hugo left the keys in the Hummer, then headed for a Gulfstream 550 jet idling on a spur which led to the main runway. The Herarat ground crew was busy loading boxes into the G550's cargo bay.
Hugo had barely climbed halfway up the metal stairs, when the pilot stuck his scruffy head out the plane's open door. At the sight, Hugo raced up the rest of the way so quickly that the stairs swayed alarmingly. “Frank!” he shouted.
“Hey, big fella, easy there.”
“Dude, this is fantastic! So you got your pilot's license back!” Hugo tackled Frank in a bear hug, then stooped to pick up the pilot's cap, which had fallen off because of Hugo's enthusiasm.
Chuckling, Frank led Hugo to a leather recliner in the cabin. “Courtesy of the Republic of Tunisia. Usually I'm on the North Africa run, but Richard told me you were flying out today, and I didn't want to miss it.”
Hugo glanced over to a shadowed figure who sat deeply recessed in the dim cabin. “Hey, Richard,” he said, suddenly unsure. Over the months, Hugo had racked up hours on the phone with Richard, but this was the first time he had seen him in the flesh since becoming protector. “Cool surprise, man. Just didn't think you were ready to go back to the Island so soon.”
Frank clapped Hugo on the shoulder with a loud thwack. “Time to finish the take-off checklist. I'll give a holler when we're in international waters.”
After Frank disappeared into the cockpit, Hugo settled himself across from Richard. He looked tired, with grey wings of hair swept back over his ears, and more lines in his face than Hugo remembered. “How's it going?”
Richard gestured beneath a table, to a box full of satellite phones and portable antennas. “They'll be ready to go live when we get there.” He sounded as weary as he looked.
As the plane taxied onto the runway, Hugo studied Richard's silent, weathered face. He couldn't tell if Richard was aging faster than he should, because he didn't know how old Richard had been when Jacob zapped him with longevity rays. He waited until the hazy LA skyline had fallen far behind them, before he spoke. “You know, man, when we get to the Island, you could kick back awhile. Hit the beach, do some surfing. Didn't you say that Mittelos kinda runs itself?”
Richard sighed, as if even forming the words was exhausting. “It's just that there's... so little time. That's what's eating away at me, Hugo. Time.”
So that was it. An intense desire to help surged over Hugo, the need to fix things. That's what Kate had always complained about with Jack, how he wanted to fix everything, everyone. Hugo understood why Jack had done it, though. When you had the power, or the knowledge to help, that's what you did, until you couldn't do it any longer. “Listen, Richard. You know, just because that whole aging thing started up again when Jacob died... If you wanted to, I could—“
“I've made my peace,” Richard broke in. His tone was resigned, but a little life had come back into his eyes. “You know what the first thing I did was, after Ajira 316 got back?”
Hugo shook his head, having no idea. On his own first trip back to LA from the Island, he had gone to the In-N-Out Burger in Marina del Rey for a vanilla shake and practically inhaled it. That was before calling his mom, even, or Kate.
“I went to confession, in Portland. Eloise gave me the number for this priest friend of hers. All these decades I'd been traveling between here and the Island, I'd never thought to go. I thought I was beyond forgiveness—“
“Dude, nobody's beyond forgiveness.”
“That's exactly what Fr. Campbell said. Everything I'd thought, everything I'd done, all of it was based on the lie that because I'd killed a man, I was beyond redemption.”
Richard fell silent, and for awhile he and Hugo stared out at the sunset-red Pacific, waves like red flowers strewn across a surface of bright gold. Finally Richard said, “That's why I let Jacob do what he did. Pure foolishness.”
“No way,” Hugo protested. “If you'd just gone ahead and died, you couldn't help me with stuff like this.” He pushed the box of communications equipment with his toe. “I don't know what I'd do without you and Ben both. You keep everything running, while I dunno, all I do is keep the people from the Temple from getting into fights with the ones in the Barracks. Or convincing the ones in the fishing village to stop tossing spears at outriggers when they paddle by.”
“I'll talk to them,” Richard said with a chuckle in his eyes. “Vanessa will listen to me.”
“Awesome.” Hugo paused for a few heartbeats, not wanting to overshoot the basket like he'd done with Kate. “Look, I get why you took Jacob up on his offer. But mine still stands. All you got to do is ask.”
Richard seemed to sink back into the evening that was rapidly filling the cabin. When he spoke, he sounded vague and thin as a ghost. “Did you make the same offer to Ben?”
Busted, six ways from Sunday. “Yeah, I did.”
Richard didn't seem mad, though. “I suppose he turned you down.”
“It was cool. He had reasons.” Richard didn't ask, and Hugo didn't feel like explaining. Ben had said that every day he lived past his natural span would be just another one to see Alex's face right before she hit the ground, dead of a bullet to the head. The bitterness in Ben's words had sliced through Hugo, and he had never asked Ben again. “Also, Richard, I thought you'd be kinda used to living like the Highlander by now.”
Now Richard did laugh. Not much of one, but enough to lighten the mood.
Frank walked into the cabin. Although Hugo knew that the jet was on autopilot, it still creeped him out to peer into the empty cockpit. “Do you have to do that?”
“You kidding? Good thing the big jets keep the cockpit doors closed, so that passengers can't see what goes on. Seth Norris and I used to play cards.” He challenged Hugo with a mischievous smile, daring him to believe him. “We're over international waters now. You ready?”
“Yeah, let's boogie.” As Frank ambled back to the pilot's chair, Hugo took a deep breath, trying to focus all his attention. Richard buckled up, even though it wouldn't have mattered one bit.
Hugo had promised to take care of the Island as long as he could, and that meant spending most of his time butt-in-seat, like they say. But if he could shave an 18-hour flight down to a two-hour one, so much the better.
He closed his eyes. He wasn't worried about himself, because if he screwed up, he'd land in the ocean (he hoped) and just float along like a cork until he (most likely) hit land or a ship picked him up. But it would be another story for Richard and Frank.
Never mind. Here goes.
The rush of wind moving over the jet's wings stopped, as did the vibration of the engines as the air around them disappeared. The plane was cocooned in silence, and when Hugo looked about, he noticed that Richard's eyes were screwed shut, and his hands clenched the butter-soft recliner leather.
The red-gold sweep of the Pacific Ocean had vanished, leaving nothing but an opaque, milky-gray soup. Its dull whiteness glowed as if lit by a fading sun, but Hugo didn't know what actually made it light up like that, and wasn't planning on finding out. This part of the trip only lasted a few moments, or so it felt by the beating of his heart, but he couldn't fight the sweat that formed on his upper lip, or the trembling in his hands as he clung to his own seat the way Richard did.
Wherever the hell they were, it wasn't on this earth.
Suddenly the grey mist parted, and once more the ocean spread out before them, only this time it shone like a blue-green jewel. Thick cottony clouds drifted low enough to leave shadows on the water.
Hugo tapped Richard's arm. “Hey, you can look now.”
Soon enough, they saw great waves crest and break against the white-sand beaches that ringed the green, grassy Island.
Frank's voice crackled with warmth over the speaker. “Preparing to descend to HYI, gentlemen: Hydra Island International Airport. Good thing two-thirds of the runway's still there, at least.”
“Pilot jokes,” Richard said. “God save me from pilot jokes.”
Frank wasn't done, though. “Hey, Hurley, we got to stop meeting like this. When you gonna put a ring on it, make it legal? Then we can register HYI as a legitimate airport, and I can stop lying on my flight plans.”
“He's got a point,” Richard said. Suddenly, Frank made a sharp bank, bringing Hydra Island's rocky airstrip into view. It wasn't until the Gulfstream's wheels touched the bumpy ground that Richard broke into a smile. “It's like a miracle, every time.”
Hugo couldn't argue with that.
(continued)
Chapter Title: Chapter 3: Safe House (Part 3)
Genre: Angst with a happy ending; Drama
Characters: Hugo Reyes, Claire Littleton, Kate Austen, Aaron Littleton, James "Sawyer" Ford
Relationships: Slow burn Hurley/Claire, past Jack/Kate, eventual Sawyer/Kate
Rating: M
Length: 3329 words
Status: WIP
Notes: TW for canon trauma, mental health issues, suicidal thoughts.
Summary: After Kate and Claire return from the Island, Claire starts to rebuild her relationship with Aaron, while she and Hugo explore their growing feelings for each other. Meanwhile, Kate has to figure out what to do with the rest of her life. And while things start out rough, they eventually do get better.
Chapter 3: Safe House (Part 3)
Hugo pulled up behind his parents' new house, a sprawling one-story bungalow which replaced their Santa Monica mansion. A screen of oak trees shaded the front porch, and the driveway curved around the back of the double lot. Hugo's parents had picked their house for privacy this time, not luxury. Bougainvillea in full flower covered the sunny south wall, where the magenta flowers glowed against the rich yellow stucco.
Grandma Titi always had a knack with plants, and had passed on some of her skill to her daughter. In the back yard, Carmen dug alongside a neighborhood teenager as they planted fruit trees.
“Hey, Mom,” Hugo said.
His mother dropped her shovel and ran up to him, enveloping him in a hug. When she let him come up for air, she pulled two twenty-dollar bills from her pocket and handed them to the boy. “Eduardo, that's enough for today. Come on back tomorrow, before lunch.”
“You got it, Mrs. Reyes. Wow, thanks!”
After the boy left, Hugo looked into the shallow hole. “Was he here an hour, even?”
Carmen gave Hugo's arm a light smack. “What, since when did you become stingy? Don't you ever let me catch you turning into some kind of miser. Eduardo there, his father just had a heart attack and he can't work. With you and Diego both gone, there's a lot to do around here. Anyway, I wanted him to go home so I could talk to you.”
Hugo picked up the shovel and started to dig. When his mom got that tone in her voice, sometimes he could distract her by doing work. Complimenting her cooking had the same effect. “So what are these, Ma? Apples? Peaches?”
“Plums, Mr. Don't Change the Subject.”
“Yay, plum jam. Can't wait.”
Carmen smiled. “Well, you better learn to wait. Three years till they make enough fruit for it to be worthwhile. So now, tell me why you have to stay with two women, and not with your parents.”
“Three women, Ma. Claire's mom was there too.”
His father came out the back door into the garden. “Hugo, you spent the night with three women? And your mother let you live?” David gave his son a thumbs-up.
“Dad, that was just a dumb text. I'm not a compose-on-the-fly guy.”
Carmen raised an eyebrow. “If it were Diego, I would have taken a broom to him. Anyway, I just got off the phone with Mrs. Littleton."
Uh, oh. That was fast work.
“She's very nice.”
That was how these conversations always started. Hugo looked over to his dad for help, but David just shrugged. “I'll bet you haven't had lunch, son. Think I'll make you a sandwich or two for the road.”
“Just one,” Carmen snapped. “He could still stand to drop a hundred. I don't know how your brother does it, Hugo. Nothing but pizza, chili dogs, chips, all that basura, and barely a spare tire.”
“How deep you want this hole, Ma?” He wasn't sure whether he meant the one for the tree, or the one his mother was preparing for him to fall into.
“Hugo, put down the shovel. This Mrs. Littleton, she's got that Masterpiece Theater sound. She's what, English?”
“Australian.”
“Pickles, onions, or both?” David called through the open back door.
“Ma, I'm going to help Dad. He tends to overdo it in the kitchen.”
“You're right. Let's go keep an eye on him,” said Carmen.
At the polished kitchen table, Carmen poured Hugo an orange soda and set it before him. “Don't give me that look, mister. It's diet. This Mrs. Littleton said that you knew Claire from the plane crash, from when you were on the Island the first time.” She leaned forward expectantly, elbows on the table. “She said this Claire was a friend of yours. So why haven't I met her yet?”
“Ma, some pretty bad things happened to Claire. Remember I told you that while we were on the Island, a lot of people died? There was a bunch of other stuff, too. Claire was kidnapped, which is why she never made it to the chopper.”
“Kidnapped!” Carmen said. “By who?”
“Someone very bad. He's dead now.” With his mom, some Island truths needed to be dealt out in dribs and drabs.
“Mother of God,” Carmen said as she made the sign of the cross. “That poor girl.”
David lowered a double-decker chicken-and-Canadian bacon sandwich in front of Hugo, then exchanged a long look with his wife. “Son, I hope you don't hold it against her. Whatever happened, it wasn't her fault.”
“What do you mean, Dad? Of course I don't hold it against her.”
“That's good, buddy. Some guys would.”
“Ma, what's he talking about?” Carmen didn't answer, so Hugo went on. “Did Mrs. Littleton say anything else?”
Carmen said, “Your friend Kate, she's having a hard time.”
“She lost her fiance, Ma.”
“Jack. The one who showed up late to your party.”
“He got busy at the hospital that day. Ma, how do you remember all that stuff?”
David chuckled. “Sooner you learn this, Hugo, the better. Women and elephants never forget. This girl Claire, what she look like?”
Carmen gave an indignant sniff. “Not that we would even have to ask, if he would have introduced us.”
“Ma, I explained. She had a rough time on the Island. I thought it would be better to let her settle in first.”
“At least Kate comes down to visit us once in awhile, even if she prefers Jack's mother.”
“Carmencita, that's natural,” said David. “She was going to be Kate's mother-in-law. She practically is, anyway. So what does this mystery girl look like, son?”
“Um, well, she has blue eyes. She's blonde, I guess. Little, but, uh...”
“Curves in all the right places?” David said, his eyes glinting a little.
“Yeah, something like that.”
Carmen gave a little cough. “At least she's Catholic.”
“Ma!” Hugo exclaimed. “You asked Mrs. Littleton that?”
“I didn't have to,” Carmen said, her chin lifting with pure righteousness. “How nosy do you think I am? Claire told her mother that there was a priest on the plane, and that he baptized Claire and her little boy.”
“Mr. Eko,” Hugo said. Even as a ghost, Eko hadn't said much. He wished he'd gotten to spend more time with Eko when he was alive.
“Mr. Eko? Is that any way to refer to a man of the cloth? That’s Father Eko to you, Mister. Since she was baptized by a Catholic priest, that makes her a Catholic. Why did I bother sending you to learn your catechism if you forget all of it?”
“Okay, Ma, whatever.”
“Don't you whatever me. A husband and wife, they should be of the same religion. Look what happened to your brother. At least that—“
“Ma, don't go there,” Hugo said in a warning voice.
“That woman was never baptized. So at least he could get an annulment.”
David laughed. “I don't think Diego's gonna make use of that annulment anytime soon. He's too busy driving trucks up in North Dakota, keeping the local working gals busy. So, Hugo, this girl. She got a boyfriend?”
“No, Dad.”
“She's got a little boy,” Carmen announced. “Like I said.”
“So she's got a kid,” David said in a musing tone. “She not divorced, is she?”
“Don't worry,” Carmen said to her husband. “I already asked that.”
Hugo groaned. “Ma, for God's sake.”
“Hugo, you think we would be sitting here talking about this, if she was divorced? So she made a mistake with the wrong guy. He ran out on her. But I guess, Mr. Ladies' Man, you know all about these things.”
Hugo just shook his head, wondering how long this roller coaster ride was going to go on, and how he was going to get off.
Unperturbed, Carmen continued. “That was a good idea, lining up that place in the canyon. Fresh air, that's what her mother said she needs. Claire can get out into the country, into the fresh air.”
“Your mother, she swears by fresh air,” said David. “The windows in Casa Reyes are always open.” As if on cue, a breeze blew in through the back doorway, bringing with it the scent of the climbing roses which so far were surviving the summer heat. “You want another sandwich, Hugo?”
“No, he doesn't,” said Carmen. “He puts on more weight, this girl might not look at him.”
“Ma, give me a break, alright?”
David screwed up his face to suppress the laughter. "Carmencita, if she cared, do you think you and her mom would have even had that phone conversation?"
Hugo tried to interrupt. "Ma, Dad, I told you, I got a plane to catch, and a bunch of phone calls to make first. Let's not argue about this, okay?”
Carmen and David both ignored Hugo. "Don't encourage him," she said to her husband.
“Relax, cariño,” David said. “Maybe she likes big guys. I don't hear you complaining much,” and he patted his paunch.
“Dad,” Hugo said. Conversations in his house were like playing ping-pong. Sometimes you could skip it right off the edge of the table, and sometimes it just went flying wild and hit the wall. This was one of those times. “You know those medical supplies I asked you about last time, the ones I need to take back with me? Did you get them shipped to the Herarat Aviation terminal?”
“Done. You gonna wear a suit to the airport this time, like I suggested? Tie back that mane? And for the love of all that's good and holy, don't speed. 'Cause I don't want to have to bail you out of the LA lockup.”
“I'm gonna get my stuff together.” Hugo gave a resigned sigh as he headed for his bedroom, his phone already flipped open and ready to go.
The inside of the Herarat Airlines general-aviation hangar was dark, despite the blazing late-afternoon sun which burned the tarmac to a deep bronze. Hugo left the keys in the Hummer, then headed for a Gulfstream 550 jet idling on a spur which led to the main runway. The Herarat ground crew was busy loading boxes into the G550's cargo bay.
Hugo had barely climbed halfway up the metal stairs, when the pilot stuck his scruffy head out the plane's open door. At the sight, Hugo raced up the rest of the way so quickly that the stairs swayed alarmingly. “Frank!” he shouted.
“Hey, big fella, easy there.”
“Dude, this is fantastic! So you got your pilot's license back!” Hugo tackled Frank in a bear hug, then stooped to pick up the pilot's cap, which had fallen off because of Hugo's enthusiasm.
Chuckling, Frank led Hugo to a leather recliner in the cabin. “Courtesy of the Republic of Tunisia. Usually I'm on the North Africa run, but Richard told me you were flying out today, and I didn't want to miss it.”
Hugo glanced over to a shadowed figure who sat deeply recessed in the dim cabin. “Hey, Richard,” he said, suddenly unsure. Over the months, Hugo had racked up hours on the phone with Richard, but this was the first time he had seen him in the flesh since becoming protector. “Cool surprise, man. Just didn't think you were ready to go back to the Island so soon.”
Frank clapped Hugo on the shoulder with a loud thwack. “Time to finish the take-off checklist. I'll give a holler when we're in international waters.”
After Frank disappeared into the cockpit, Hugo settled himself across from Richard. He looked tired, with grey wings of hair swept back over his ears, and more lines in his face than Hugo remembered. “How's it going?”
Richard gestured beneath a table, to a box full of satellite phones and portable antennas. “They'll be ready to go live when we get there.” He sounded as weary as he looked.
As the plane taxied onto the runway, Hugo studied Richard's silent, weathered face. He couldn't tell if Richard was aging faster than he should, because he didn't know how old Richard had been when Jacob zapped him with longevity rays. He waited until the hazy LA skyline had fallen far behind them, before he spoke. “You know, man, when we get to the Island, you could kick back awhile. Hit the beach, do some surfing. Didn't you say that Mittelos kinda runs itself?”
Richard sighed, as if even forming the words was exhausting. “It's just that there's... so little time. That's what's eating away at me, Hugo. Time.”
So that was it. An intense desire to help surged over Hugo, the need to fix things. That's what Kate had always complained about with Jack, how he wanted to fix everything, everyone. Hugo understood why Jack had done it, though. When you had the power, or the knowledge to help, that's what you did, until you couldn't do it any longer. “Listen, Richard. You know, just because that whole aging thing started up again when Jacob died... If you wanted to, I could—“
“I've made my peace,” Richard broke in. His tone was resigned, but a little life had come back into his eyes. “You know what the first thing I did was, after Ajira 316 got back?”
Hugo shook his head, having no idea. On his own first trip back to LA from the Island, he had gone to the In-N-Out Burger in Marina del Rey for a vanilla shake and practically inhaled it. That was before calling his mom, even, or Kate.
“I went to confession, in Portland. Eloise gave me the number for this priest friend of hers. All these decades I'd been traveling between here and the Island, I'd never thought to go. I thought I was beyond forgiveness—“
“Dude, nobody's beyond forgiveness.”
“That's exactly what Fr. Campbell said. Everything I'd thought, everything I'd done, all of it was based on the lie that because I'd killed a man, I was beyond redemption.”
Richard fell silent, and for awhile he and Hugo stared out at the sunset-red Pacific, waves like red flowers strewn across a surface of bright gold. Finally Richard said, “That's why I let Jacob do what he did. Pure foolishness.”
“No way,” Hugo protested. “If you'd just gone ahead and died, you couldn't help me with stuff like this.” He pushed the box of communications equipment with his toe. “I don't know what I'd do without you and Ben both. You keep everything running, while I dunno, all I do is keep the people from the Temple from getting into fights with the ones in the Barracks. Or convincing the ones in the fishing village to stop tossing spears at outriggers when they paddle by.”
“I'll talk to them,” Richard said with a chuckle in his eyes. “Vanessa will listen to me.”
“Awesome.” Hugo paused for a few heartbeats, not wanting to overshoot the basket like he'd done with Kate. “Look, I get why you took Jacob up on his offer. But mine still stands. All you got to do is ask.”
Richard seemed to sink back into the evening that was rapidly filling the cabin. When he spoke, he sounded vague and thin as a ghost. “Did you make the same offer to Ben?”
Busted, six ways from Sunday. “Yeah, I did.”
Richard didn't seem mad, though. “I suppose he turned you down.”
“It was cool. He had reasons.” Richard didn't ask, and Hugo didn't feel like explaining. Ben had said that every day he lived past his natural span would be just another one to see Alex's face right before she hit the ground, dead of a bullet to the head. The bitterness in Ben's words had sliced through Hugo, and he had never asked Ben again. “Also, Richard, I thought you'd be kinda used to living like the Highlander by now.”
Now Richard did laugh. Not much of one, but enough to lighten the mood.
Frank walked into the cabin. Although Hugo knew that the jet was on autopilot, it still creeped him out to peer into the empty cockpit. “Do you have to do that?”
“You kidding? Good thing the big jets keep the cockpit doors closed, so that passengers can't see what goes on. Seth Norris and I used to play cards.” He challenged Hugo with a mischievous smile, daring him to believe him. “We're over international waters now. You ready?”
“Yeah, let's boogie.” As Frank ambled back to the pilot's chair, Hugo took a deep breath, trying to focus all his attention. Richard buckled up, even though it wouldn't have mattered one bit.
Hugo had promised to take care of the Island as long as he could, and that meant spending most of his time butt-in-seat, like they say. But if he could shave an 18-hour flight down to a two-hour one, so much the better.
He closed his eyes. He wasn't worried about himself, because if he screwed up, he'd land in the ocean (he hoped) and just float along like a cork until he (most likely) hit land or a ship picked him up. But it would be another story for Richard and Frank.
Never mind. Here goes.
The rush of wind moving over the jet's wings stopped, as did the vibration of the engines as the air around them disappeared. The plane was cocooned in silence, and when Hugo looked about, he noticed that Richard's eyes were screwed shut, and his hands clenched the butter-soft recliner leather.
The red-gold sweep of the Pacific Ocean had vanished, leaving nothing but an opaque, milky-gray soup. Its dull whiteness glowed as if lit by a fading sun, but Hugo didn't know what actually made it light up like that, and wasn't planning on finding out. This part of the trip only lasted a few moments, or so it felt by the beating of his heart, but he couldn't fight the sweat that formed on his upper lip, or the trembling in his hands as he clung to his own seat the way Richard did.
Wherever the hell they were, it wasn't on this earth.
Suddenly the grey mist parted, and once more the ocean spread out before them, only this time it shone like a blue-green jewel. Thick cottony clouds drifted low enough to leave shadows on the water.
Hugo tapped Richard's arm. “Hey, you can look now.”
Soon enough, they saw great waves crest and break against the white-sand beaches that ringed the green, grassy Island.
Frank's voice crackled with warmth over the speaker. “Preparing to descend to HYI, gentlemen: Hydra Island International Airport. Good thing two-thirds of the runway's still there, at least.”
“Pilot jokes,” Richard said. “God save me from pilot jokes.”
Frank wasn't done, though. “Hey, Hurley, we got to stop meeting like this. When you gonna put a ring on it, make it legal? Then we can register HYI as a legitimate airport, and I can stop lying on my flight plans.”
“He's got a point,” Richard said. Suddenly, Frank made a sharp bank, bringing Hydra Island's rocky airstrip into view. It wasn't until the Gulfstream's wheels touched the bumpy ground that Richard broke into a smile. “It's like a miracle, every time.”
Hugo couldn't argue with that.
(continued)