Walt abruptly stopped, and turned to face his father. For the first time since the rescue, a broad grin was on his face. "Hey, Dad, Dad!" he said hurriedly, walking over to his father. "We're going to get rescued!"
"Well, I hope so, son," Michael said with a grunt of effort as he forced himself to sit up. "I do. But. . ."
Walt shook his head. "Can't you feel it? In the air. The magnetism's been reversed."
Michael forced a smile onto a very confused face. "Okay, Walt, whatever you say."
Somehow the boy must have figured out that his father was discomfited, for he silenced about the field and sat down. "Dad?" he said. "Why don't any of the others come hang out with us anymore?"
"Look, Walt, your dad made some mistakes," he said. "I kind of. . .I kind of hurt some people, trying to get you back."
"What do you mean?" Walt asked. "Dad?"
"Nothing, it's not important," Michael forced a smile on his face, and stood up. "So you really think we're gonna be rescued, huh?"
"Yeah!" Walt said again. "Come on, Dad, let's walk down to the beach and see if we can spot a plane!"
"Hold on, boy," Michael laughed. "Dad's a little hurt. It's gonna take him a minute."
Walt waited patiently until his father finally managed to stand the whole way, and then slipped one of the older man's arms over his shoulder, giving him an assist on the way to the beach.
Michael couldn't remember ever being happier in his entire life. True, some good people had died, and true, his bullet injury hurt like hell, but he'd gotten his son back. And they had a good relationship, now, just the way they should have, all along.
He winced a little as they neared the beach, and heard the inevitable yelling. Somebody was always upset about something on Craphole Island.
"We have to tell Jack!"
Well, that sounded like Kate.
"Hell, Freckles, it ain't the end of the world! Sun's still shining, and we're still stuck here!"
And that would be Sawyer.
"Hey guys. Tell Jack what?"
And the annoying guy interrupting would be Charlie. Yup, things didn't change much on the island.
He and Walt broke free of the jungle, and into the brilliant light of the beach. Kate and Sawyer were having it out, standing nearly toe to toe, while Charlie and Claire stood back just a little. Michael frowned as he noticed Claire clutching Charlie's hand. He felt protective of the girl. . .everyone on the island did. . .and he couldn't help thinking that Charlie was a bad influence on her. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll and all that jazz.
"What's going on?" Walt asked.
"Hey!" Charlie exclaimed. "Walt's back! Look at that, Claire, Walt's back!"
"I can see that, Charlie!" Claire said. She handed Aaron over to the Brit, and walked over to give Walt a big hug. He blushed a little under the attention. Sawyer and Kate, meanwhile, barely spared a glance for the new arrivals.
"Well, we have to tell someone," Kate said. "We can't just pretend that didn't happen."
Sawyer stepped closer, and brought his face down to within inches of Kate. "And you wanna explain why that damn button didn't get pushed?"
Kate stepped back, and then began walking away. "Fine," she said, over her shoulder. "Have it your way."
Sawyer finally turned to face Michael and Walt, smiling a little self-deprecatingly. "Women," he said. Michael smiled back.
"Hey, Dad, Dad!" Walt exclaimed, pulling on his father's sleeve. Michael look at him. He was staring wide-eyed up at the sky, one finger pointing. He followed the trajectory of his son's finger, only to see a plane flying low in the sky.
"Told you we'd be rescued today!" Walt exclaimed. "Didn't I tell you?"
"Holy shit," Sawyer shook his head in amazement. "Looks like Tattoo here really was on to something."
Suddenly realizing what was going on, Sawyer ran down the beach, waving his hands and yelling. Walt laughed. Michael, meanwhile, slowly limped his way down, keeping his eye on the rescue flying slowly toward the island.
"I can't believe you two," Jess huffed as they rang impatiently on the doorbell. "We should not be getting my brother involved in this. You realize that he could lose his job?"
"Better than the alternative," Theodore pointed out. Which it was, the alternative being that O'Keefe had proudly announced that four years ago he'd taken three pilot lessons, and was reasonably sure that he could take off and fly a stolen jet. It was a testament to the man's craziness that he and Jess had believed that he actually would try to steal a jet.
It was possible, though, that O'Keefe had been bluffing. They all knew that Jess' brother was in the Air Force. And they all knew perfectly well that if anyone could get the plane, Brian Smith Gerad could do it.
"Op, he's not home, too bad," Jess said, a little too quickly. O'Keefe glared down at her, before hitting the button again.
"Fuckin' stop this shit!" a man's voice yelled. Jess moaned a little, and Theodore patted her consolingly on her back. The door flung open and a tall, compact man wearing a pink bathrobe stood in front of them.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked blearingly. O'Keefe trembled a little, and pushed Jess in front.
"Hey, Bri," she said, waving and smiling. The man blinked.
"Baby sis?" he roared, and promptly picked her up in a massive bear hug, and pulled her inside. The door slammed shut behind the two. Theodore turned to stare at O'Keefe. That was somewhat. . .unexpected.
The door opened again, and the huge hairy man stared out. "You're boys," he said accusingly.
"Last I checked," O'Keefe quipped. The man shook his head. He turned and roared inside "Jess! Why the hell are there fuckin' plebes out here?"
"They're my friends, Brian," she sighed. Theodore thought he could see her head trying to peep out.
"You two banging my sis?" the man asked suspiciously. Theodore's jaw dropped. O'Keefe giggled a little nervously.
"N-no," he stuttered. "We're just friends. That's it."
"Jess doesn't need no fuckin pansy-ass boyfriends," Brian said, and slammed the door shut again. Theodore whimpered. A minute later the door opened again, and this time Jess was standing in it.
"All right, he said you can come in," she said coldly, before turning and leading them into the house.
"Jess says you two are okay," Brian roared, slamming a beer down in front of the two men, and a Coke in front of his sister. Theodore peered at the drink. He didn't like alcohol. He glanced nervously at Brian, and opened the beer.
"You want to steal a plane?" Brian asked disbelievingly. O'Keefe leaned forward, getting excited now.
"See, we found this magnetic disturbance—"
"Pansy, shut the fuck up," Brian said. He turned to look at Jess again. "You fuckin' serious? You want me to steal a fuckin' USA plane?"
"Not steal," Jess said. "Borrow."
"Hell," Brian shook his head, and downed a Corona in one long, gulp. Trickles of beer trailed down his chin, but he didn't pay any attention. He leaned forward and grinned. "You realize we get caught we slammed?"
"Yeah, but. . ." O'Keefe protested.
Brian ignored him. He stroked his stubbled chin. "Aw, hell," he said, throwing the glass. Theodore winced at the sound of it breaking on the hard, linoleum floor. "Screw the man, that's what I say!"
"So you'll do it?" O'Keefe asked excitedly. Jess sighed and buried her face in her hands. Theodore felt an aching need to hug her.
"All right, doobies," Brian said, standing up and stretching. "We leave in T-fifteen minutes."
"What does that mean?" O'Keefe asked.
"It means, pansy," Brian smiled. "That we leave as soon as I grab some fuckin' boxer shorts."
"Are you sure we're going in the right direction?" Theodore asked nervously. He tried to stare over Brian's massive shoulder to see the coordinates.
"Fuckin' magnetic beacon screwin all my fuckin' equipment," Brian complained. Theodore gulped and turned to Jess.
"Is that a no?" he asked. She shrugged and patted his arm, before resuming her gaze out the side window.
"Hey!" O'Keefe suddenly sat up straight, pointing out the window. Brian ignored him, but Jess and Theodore leaned over to see what he was pointing at. "There! What's that, out ahead!"
"Looks like an island," Jess said dryly. "Woop dee."
"There are people on it!" O'Keefe said excitedly. He stared down at the map in his lap. "Nothing's charted for almost a hundred miles!"
Jess was getting excited now, too. She leaned forward. Brian reached out a hand and pulled the front of her shirt up higher, so that not a hint of cleavage showed. "There are people!" she shouted. "On the beach! Go down closer, Brian!"
"No problem," her brother responded. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and his hands were white-knuckled around the controls. Theodore closed his eyes and began to pray. Something was wrong.
"Brian?" Jess asked. "What's going on? What's wrong?"
"Let me put it this way," her brother said tightly. "Like it or not, we're going down."