"Told from the Eyes of a Boy"

Chapter #1

A young boy's eye is closed.

The sound of waves crash around him.

And faintly, somewhere distant, but coming closer, a dog barks.

The waves crash again.

And behind Walt's eye lid his eye flickers.

During irregular periods of consciousness when Walt revisited the world he vaguely felt the warmth of hot morning spider across his neck and cheek twisted towards the hot open sun.

His eyes gaze open to a blurry world bordering perspicuity. The dark birds circling above him dizzied the pain and he had to close his eyes again to haunting memories. Vague memories of a thick leather belt wrapped around his neck, and how he cried for his father as they cruelly and deliberately broke each of his small fingers.

The barking dog was present now, Walt felt him there licking wildly at his face with its wide sandpaper tongue, lapping up the ocean water and beach sand sprayed on his tender face.

The bark of his dog rang painfully in Walt's ears, until another pain seeped into his consciousness. Walt looked down to the throbbing pain in his hand, partially buried now with wet sand. His limp twisted fingers poking upwards through the beach surface. Without the strength of motion Walt's crumpled mind drifted off again into the baking sun.

Walt would not have wakened up without the frantic hustle surrounding him.

Gasping his eyes shot open.

Hands touched him, reached for him, many hands. And with each new hand came images, flooding his mind in random chaos; Memories and Foreshadowings, jumbling together, Fears and Passions, Worries and terrors, Strangers and Familiar Faces. Among the familiar faces he recognized flashes of Jin, his kindness and cruelty, sweeping past in wild bursts in his mind. There too Walt caught images of Boon, bloodied and dying, stretched out in pain. And a strong image of Sawyer that repeated over and over and over.

Voices began to accompany the image flashes; Shannon screaming, someone dying, then someone else, the sound of a gunshot, and Kate crying. Then over the jumble of chaotic noise a voice came strongly through.

"Walt. . . Walt? Can you hear me? Jack! Jack! I think he's coming to."

Walt felt the tension seep from his body. He steadied his breathing and focused his eyes on the face above him: Sun stood smiling sweetly, yet in her eyes Walt saw a distant dread of utter fear. She spoke again, "Jack look. His eyes are focusing."

Another voice came solidly into focus. "Hey buddy, hey Walt, you're gonna be okay. You just sit still and breathe deeply." The doctor Jack had a look of relief spread across his face. "Your doing great, Walt, just great." He assured again.

It was difficult to focus on each face standing around him, but Walt knew they were all there, circled around anxiously. He could make out his old friend Mr. Locke though, who seemed to be pacing anxiously near the door. Yet Walt felt his concern was not for his safety but for something distant.

Feeling a squeeze on his arm Walt looked over to Kate, her face red with emotion. Walt knew her caring was sincere, but he wished she would let go of him most of all. He could feel the majority of intense images coming from her touch and he had trouble in his weak state forcing them all away.

"Alright everyone, let's give him some space." Jack said clearing the huddled group away. To Walt's relief Kate let go of him, along with Sun and the others, and the scurry of images running into his pounding head stopped abruptly.

Seeing clearly now, Walt looked around and knew exactly where he was; in Jack's old tent on the beach. The one Sawyer used when jack went to the caves. It was empty now, now that Sawyer, Jin, and his father set off on the raft to find help.

Suddenly, Walt panicked, 'His Father!'

"Dad!" he yelled sitting up to scan the room for his father. "Where's my dad?" Jack quickly rushed to Walt's side and tried to calm him holding his shoulders firmly down.

Looking to Jack apprehensively Walt asked again, "Where's my dad?"

Frowning Jack shook his head. Walt scanned the rest of the room who each averted his eyes sadly. It was Sun who bravely met his stare.

"We don't know Walt," she said, "We were hoping that you might know what happened." Walt leaned back and tried to think of his last memory, very little came. He remembered a boat with a large engine, a gun shot, his father falling into the ocean, and loud screaming, frantic screaming. With a shudder Walt remembered the screaming was his own. He shook his head. "I don't remember."

Sun continued, "Vincent found you washed up on shore down the beach. We still haven't seen you father. . . or Sawyer…" With Sawyer's name Walt caught an image flash into his head of Sawyer smiling devilishly and he knew the image had come from Kate, even from across the room her emotions were strong. He glanced to her watching her rub the emotion from her eyes. Sun gingerly finished, "… or Jin." Her eyes glossed over.

The tension in the room stood thick and powerful. Locke continued pacing and wringing his hands anxiously. Then with a sigh, Kate abruptly left walking towards the shore. The others followed slowly, sadly, parting ways to sneak away from the tension as well. Walt didn't mind seeing them go. He understood, he wanted to go himself, to find his father. But keeping him subdued Jack stayed, although Walt felt his thoughts somewhere else entirely.

"Jack. . ." Walt whispered painfully, "my fingers are broken."

The sight of Walt's small hand twisted oddly gave Jack a shiver. He forced a reassuring smile. "Okay," he replied sympathetically, "I'm going to set them for you." Digging into his case of makeshift tools Jack found items to help. Carefully he took each small finger and softly set and wrapped them, one by one, with cloth and small sticks for support.

Jack's touch was not as telling as the others. Walt could feel something powerful there, but as Jack touched his arm and hand he could only receive the impression that Jack was concerned with something. No with worry, but something deeper maybe, hidden, Walt couldn't exactly put his finger on it.

Walt flinched with pain as Jack touched his index finger. "Sorry." Jack sympathized trying to wrap the bent finger. To keep his mind off the pain in his hand Walt focused on his surroundings. The beach hut seemed bigger than he remembered it, with an open view to the ocean where Kate still stood gazing out to sea. Glancing back at Jack now finished setting his fingers Walt saw that his stare fixed on Kate as well.

Then, there it was. A glint of an image passed through Jack's defense and slipped it's way into Walt's consciousness. A smile, was all it was, in the orange light of a bonfire; Kate's smile. Mysterious and beautiful. The image came with a burst of feeling as intense as jealousy, but something different, a feeling mixed of longing and fear and regret.

Walt smiled because he already knew.

Noticing Walt's stare fixed on him Jack sheepishly took his focus off Kate and pretended to be interested in setting his fingers again. But Walt could still see it, the tenseness and uncertainness clawing cruelly inside of Jack.

Normally Walt saw things, all kinds of things, memories, foreshadowings, and even sometimes thoughts and desires. He had quickly found it in his best interest to keep quiet about them. Once he told his kindergarten teacher, Ms. Merchant that her brother was going to be in a bad car accident. Ms. Merchant did not like that very much. She liked it worse that afternoon when she received a phone call from home.

After time Walt had learned to keep quiet, he knew better than to unnecessarily cause attention to himself now. Yet, as he read what little Jack revealed, he knew the ending already, and thought to offer some kind of comfort.

He chose his words carefully. "Jack," he said, "She's worried for him, but she's waiting for you."