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Lockedown

A Locke fanfic
Category: Action, suspense, hurt/comfort, sci-fi, horror
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: some violent content, character injury
Spoilers: One of them, Fire and water
possible spoilers for several upcoming episodes. (the ideas for Locke's injury and his connection to Sawyer came from spoilers for upcoming episodes. whether or not they will actually happen, and if they do how it will happen is still up in the air. the way events are portrayed here will very likely be nothing like how they will be portrayed in the episodes. consider yourself warned)
Disclaimer: all Lost characters belong to ABC and the creative genius J.J. Abrams. I'm just borrowing them and will return them none the worse for wear. no copyright infringement is intended.

The island was angry. For centuries it had existed in peace and tranquility. Then they came. They disrupted the delicate balance of things, as humans are won’t to do. Eventually they died. Countless people had made this land their final resting place, their spirits now eternally joined with the island. All the essences merged and became as one consciousness. Over the years it became so strong it could manifest itself physically. It was this consciousness that grew increasingly restless and angry. "We should act now" a voice whispered harshly. "The time for action has not yet come" another voice countered."There has to be another way" one of the newest additions to the collective whispered."Patience" the second voice replied. Somewhat divided, the life force of the island watched and waited. It would not, however wait for long.
John Locke walked into the hatch whistling softly to himself. It was early evening and he was about to begin his button shift. Things were pretty quiet in camp right now. Sayid, Ana-Lucia, and Charlie had left on their quest to find Henry Gale's supposed balloon over a day ago. Jack and Kate were still barely talking. Life was going on. Locke looked around the empty room. He didn't mind being alone in the hatch. He rather enjoyed it, in fact. His eyes fell on the vault door. He wasn't completely alone he remembered, thinking of the mysterious man locked behind the door. Locke walked over to the computer. He frowned. The puzzle book and cup and saucer he had left by the terminal had been moved. The last person to take a shift had undoubtedly done it Locke figured. It still bothered him though. This was not the first time he had come in and found things out of place. Locke sat down in front of the computer. He looked behind him. Something had just made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He could have sworn someone was in the room with him. Fortunately the creepy feeling left as fast as it had come. "Get a grip, John" he thought to himself. He sat back in the chair feeling a little silly, and very glad no one was around to see him jumping at shadows.
In the vault, the man known as Henry Gale sat against one wall. His shoulder was bothering him and he was sleepy. Shifting to get into a more comfortable position, he let his eyes slip closed. "Something's going to happen soon" a voice whispered. His eyes snapped open and he looked around. There was no one there. Puzzled, he let his eyes close again. "Kelvin, didn't you hear me?" the voice whispered again. "Something's going to happen. Something bad. You have to prepare yourself." Henry jerked upright, wincing slightly. It had been a very long time since he had been called by his real name. "Who are you?" Henry asked. "What do you want?" The voice chuckled softly. "Don't tell me you've forgotten your first hatch partner, mate" Henry's eyes widened. "Simon? How...?"
"It's a little hard to explain" Henry laughed softly. "This isn't happening" he said. 'Unfortunately, you couldn't be more wrong." Henry shook his head. "This isn't happening" he repeated. "Ghosts don't exist" The voice laughed. "Always the skeptic, Kelvin" it said. "Spirits, if that's what you call us certainly do exist. As a consciousness anyway. We have been here for a very long time." Still not believing, Henry asked "Is Desmond with you too? Whoever you all are"
"No. To my knowledge he is still alive." Henry felt relieved hearing that. When he had been brought into the hatch and saw that Desmond was not there and that it had been taken over by this other group he had been sure his friend was dead. "How many of you are there?" he asked. "I can't say for sure." "Simon" answered. "You said something is going to happen. What do you mean?" He still didn't believe he was talking to his friend but he was curious. " I can't tell you right now. They won't let me." Simon paused. "Just be careful, my friend."
"I will." Henry answered, feeling even more confused. Sitting back against the wall he thought about how he had ended up here.
He had been extremely sick when he stumbled away from the hatch, not wanting Desmond to have to deal with disposing of his body. He collapsed in a wooded area a short ways away. He had thought that was the end and had been prepared to die. He was understandably shocked to wake up some time later in a medical facility of some type. His fever had broken and his headache and chills were gone. He glanced at his arms. The rash that had been appearing on his body was fading too. A brown haired man in a lab coat was looking down at him. "Where am I?" he had managed to ask. "There will be a time for questions later. You must rest now." the other man answered. Henry remembered feeling a prick in his arm and everything fading to black.
The next thing he remembered, he was waking up in a different room. His head was fuzzy and his mouth was dry. A dark haired girl of about 11 or 12 entered the room with a pitcher of water and a glass. He had eagerly filled the glass and drunk half of it right away. The water had been slightly bitter tasting but he had been too thirsty to care. The girl left the room and shortly afterwards the brown haired man appeared. He was accompanied by an older, gray haired man. The older man explained why Henry had been brought there. (although he didn't say where "there" was) Their group was involved in scientific research and they wanted him to join them. Henry had been intrigued, and happy to finally have an opportunity to put his microbiology degree to use. He had thought he would be doing research when he originally agreed to the eighteen month stint on the island. He had been understandingly dismayed when he arrived and saw what he'd really be doing. Was his work finally paying off? Henry agreed to join the research project, and did so happily up until several months ago. He was pulled from his thoughts by the door opening and Locke entering with a cup and a plate of food. "Thought you might like a snack." he said, handing them to Henry. "Thanks." Henry answered. They both turned as they heard a "bang" sound from the other room. "What the..." Locke quickly left the vault to investigate. Henry sighed and began to eat his snack.
Locke walked into the computer room, his hand automatically going for the hilt of his knife. Nothing seemed amiss. He looked around, then went into the living area. By the bookcase he saw the source of the sound he had heard. Several large books had fallen off the shelves. Locke picked them up and put them back in their places.
He was puzzled. How could they have fallen out?. The timer began to beep. Locke hurried back to the computer. The chair was a few feet from where it had been when he left it. Frowning, he moved it back, sat down, and entered the code. The timer reset and he sat back in his seat. These strange occurances he had been noticing made him think of something that had happened a few years before.
At that time he had owned the "Welcome Home, Home inspection Service". He had been hired to do an insurance inspection of a lovely old Victorian home that had just been purchased by a young couple and their two children. Locke remembered the strange things that had happened when he was inside. Doors closed on their own, lights, and the TV turned on and off. The door on the wood burning stove almost closed on his hand. Creepiest was the sounds of sawing and knife sharpening he had heard in the empty basement. Locke had never been so happy to leave a place in his life. He never told the owners what he had experienced for fear they'd think he was nuts. Last year that house had been featured on "Ghost Detectives". He had watched that episode, fascinated as he remembered his own experiences. Apparently a former owner of the house slaughtered his whole family, then killed himself in the basement. Strange things had been happening in the house ever since.
Locke thought about the hatch. Was he thinking it was haunted? He knew that was silly and dismissed it outright. It did cause him to wonder though. According to Desmond at least one person had died in the hatch. If it wasn't ghosts, maybe it was a Pooka he thought. Locke remembered how one of his foster mothers would blame anything that got misplaced on a Pooka. He had asked her what that was. She had said it was a mischievous spirit that delighted in taking small objects and in putting things where they don't belong. What was going on in the hatch was a mystery and Locke didn't like it.
He picked up the cup he had left next to the computer and took a sip. The coffee was beginning to cool down. He made a face and set the cup back down. Sitting back again Locke looked over at the far wall of the hatch, the wall Desmond had said "made his fillings hurt" when he went near it. There was something strange behind it, he was sure. It had felt slightly warm to the touch and there had been a definite vibration when he placed his palm against it. Stranger still, the longer he stood there the shakier his legs began to feel. He had also felt slightly light headed and weak all over. As soon as he was away from there the strange feelings left him. He looked up as the intercom mounted high on the wall made a squawking noise. He glanced at the countdown. There were still 90 minutes left. The intercom made another noise, this time a sound like static. Locke stood and went over to the wall where the device was. The sound stopped. He stood there for several moments, then returned to the computer. The chair had moved several inches again. "What the heck was going on?" Locke thought. He pulled the chair over and sat down. His eyes widened as he saw the computer screen. The words "This is our island" flashed where the cursor usually waited for the code to be input. Locke pressed the return key in an attempt to get the cursor to reappear so he could type a response. The text vanished and was replaced by the blinking cursor. Puzzled, Locke tried to type something. It didn't work
Locke looked slowly around the room. He was beginning to feel a little scared. He was also fascinated. What was the island trying to teach him?
The intercom squawked again. Locke walked over to the wall. He pulled a chair over and stepped up on it to examine the misbehaving mechanism. "What's going on?" Henry called out from the vault. Locke ignored him. He looked at the plastic housing of the speaker. Nothing seemed out of order. The lights flickered. "What is going on?" Henry called out again. "That's what I'm trying to figure out." Locke answered, annoyed. He stepped down from the chair. What was going on? The lights flickered and flashed. A voice came over the speaker, mostly obscured by static. Locke could make out "...protocol initiated..." and then a countdown. There was a sound of machinery and the blast doors began to lower. Thinking fast, Locke grabbed a metal weight bar and slid it under the nearest door. "What just happened?" Henry called again. "i know something happened. Are you just going to leave me in here?" Locke turned toward the vault door.
Inside the vault Henry stood looking anxiously around. Something was going on. Something weird. He remembered some strange things happening while he and Desmond were in the hatch, but never anything like this. "I'm sorry." A voice whispered. "What?" Henry turned, looking for its source. "I'm sorry about what is going to happen. About what we have to do."
"Simon?" Henry asked. "Yes, it's me. I tried to reason with the others but it did no good. The collective is too powerful." Henry looked toward the door again. The lights flickered and nearly went out. "Simon isn't the only one of us who opposes this." Another voice whispered. "We'll do what we can to help but it's up to you to stop this." Henry looked around again, still trying to see where the voices were coming from. "Who are you?" He asked. "My name is...or was Boone. " The voice replied. " I was one of the survivors of flight 815."
"What is happening? What do you want?" Henry asked. "I can't say anything more. They won't let me."
"He's right." Simon spoke again. "Just help Locke when the time comes. It's up to the two of you." Henry turned toward the door again. "I need your help." he heard Locke say. The door opened. Henry looked up again half expecting to hear the whispers. There was nothing but silence in the small room. "You want me to help you?" He asked. "Yes." Locke answered. "Something happened and the blast doors came down. I tried to pry one up but it's too heavy to do alone." Henry considered this. "I'll help you on one condition." Locke looked at him pensively. "What condition is that?"
"That you don't let your friends hurt me anymore. Especially the Iraqi." Locke hesitated. "I can do that. can I trust you?" Henry nodded. He followed Locke into the living area. "Who are you?" Locke asked. "I'm.." Henry began, prepared to give his usual answer. He stopped, considered for several moments and continued. "My name is Kelvin."