Xanadu (Lost)

Chapter 1: An Unwelcome Visitor

When John Locke strode into Kate Austen and Claire Littleton's Barracks cottage without knocking, Kate made a hard fist, ready to strike at anyone who came near.

Her step-father Wayne used to walk in on her like that. Wayne, with his cigarette stench and whiskey breath, who would come into her bedroom at two in the morning, waking her out of a sound sleep. "Katie," he would whisper as he blew a stink like a barroom floor into her face. "Katie, let's talk." She would roll over, pretending not to hear him, and most of the time he would go away. Sometimes he wouldn't, but she couldn't think about that right now.

There were more important things to worry about. For one, Locke had a gun, and knives. Earlier that day, as Kate and Claire had taken their morning coffee on the front porch, Locke stormed out of his house, slamming the door so hard the windows rattled. Kate had sat rigid with anxiety, the small hairs on her arms standing straight up. Then Locke threw one knife after another into the post which held up the front porch of his house. The ringing metal clank sounded in Kate's ears like a death-knell.

Today the knife might shiver in wood. Tomorrow, who knows, maybe it would stick in you. At least Baby Aaron was tucked out of sight in Claire's bedroom, snug in a plastic wash basket.

When Locke first walked in, Claire had stood rigid in the corner of the room, her face fixed in a blank stare, trying to look small and inconspicuous as possible. Locke strolled around their small living room, pushing his face into Kate's, gazing back and forth as if he belonged there, as if he could walk in on them anytime he wanted. As if they were his.

Soon Locke told Claire to leave, that he wanted to talk to Kate alone. Claire headed for Kate's bedroom instead of her own. That's where Kate herself would have hidden, had she wanted to spy. Claire was probably standing with her ear pressed up against the corner nearest to the living room. The house walls were so thin they might as well have been cardboard. Claire had just better not let Locke hear her breathing. God knows what he'd do then.

Locke seemed to have forgotten about Claire, though, as he delivered his ultimatum. Kate wasn't welcome in his camp anymore. She was to leave at first light. Missive delivered, Locke let the door slam behind him on his way out.

Like a rabbit creeping out of its hole after the fox leaves, Claire sank down next to Kate on the grey sofa. "So, he's going to banish you? For just talking to Miles?"

It wasn't until Locke had left that Kate realized how hard she was shaking. "Claire, he's crazy. How long before he goes all Jim Jones on us?"

Claire just looked confused. "Jim Jones?"

Kate figured that Claire hadn't heard of the American mass murderer who led his cult followers into the Central American jungle, then convinced them all to drink cyanide-laced Kool-Aid. "Never mind. It would only give you nightmares. It's bad enough right now."

Claire gestured towards the door, where Locke's shadow still cast a pall over the room. "What are you going to do? I don't want you to leave."

Kate sat for a moment, thinking. "I'm going to go back over and talk to Sawyer."

"Yeah, good idea," Claire answered, but her face said otherwise. "Guess I'll just go to bed then, right?"

Kate still remained on the sofa, chin in hand, twisting the tail of her shirt. Suddenly, an idea came to her. This just might work. "Don't do that yet."

"You're going to spend the night over there with Sawyer, aren't you?"

Kate nodded. "I hope so. Just keep the lights on. And don't go to bed just yet."