The Nightmare

**She awoke to find her feet and hands tightly bound, the restraints cutting sharply into her bare skin. Each move of her body dug the restraints further into her skin, causing the blood to slowly seep to the cold floor beneath her. She struggled to move the blindfold enough to see where she was, but discovered that even when it moved the room was still pitch black, giving her no indication as to her location. At first there were no sounds other than the pounding of her heart. Soon another sound emerged. The sound of a terrifying scream, one pleading for mercy.**

Liz Skyler awoke with a start and gasped for breath. She looked around in a panic before realizing that she wasn’t in that place, that she wasn’t …. She couldn’t finish the thought. This time the nightmare had been eerily real. Beads of cold sweat trickled down the back of her neck. Before she had always been able to keep it hidden deep inside, pushed down so far that it rarely had a chance to escape. But ever since the crash the nightmare had started again, and now it was getting not only more frequent but more intense as well.

She looked around and realized that it was almost dawn. She knew she would not be able to sleep again and decided to get up. Maybe if she wore herself out, worked so hard that she couldn’t stand anymore, maybe then she would have a night without the terrifying visions. As it was she was only getting a couple of hours of sleep a night. A few more nights like this one and she knew she’d be in trouble, physically and mentally. She was already on the brink of a breakdown.

As the light began creeping up on the horizon, she spied two other survivors up and moving. Liz checked the buttons on her cuffs, grabbed a bottle of water and the small pack that never left her side, and hurried to catch up to them before they could begin their daily task of hunting. John Locke had proven himself a valuable asset early on; his emergence as part of the leadership team was not surprising to her. She still hadn’t been able to figure out his intentions, but she felt in her gut that he was one of the good guys. He seemed to take people under his wing. She assumed it was a fatherly instinct as he was one of the oldest of the survivors – not old, just older than the rest of them. They had spent several hours conversing by the fire, and she knew as much about him as anyone else there. She felt a kind regard for him, and thought he felt the same for her. Neither wanted anything more than someone to talk to. She had very little interest in relationships of any kind.

She managed to catch up to him before he got his start on the day. “Hey, mind if I tag along?” Liz figured a day tracking and hunting would be just the thing for wearing her down. Plus she had grown to appreciate the company of Locke.

Locke looked at her with intense green eyes. “Let’s go.”

The sun rose higher in the sky as they continued their trek, heading deeper into unknown territory. Liz knew nothing about tracking but Locke’s sense of determination assured her that they were on the right trail. She found his quietness calming rather than awkward. She had little desire for small talk or meaningless chatter. She never understood those people who felt the need to drabble on and on in endless verbosity. Apparently he felt the same way.

Late in the morning they came upon a small clearing under a canopy of trees. It was in this shaded area that Locke decided to take a break. As they sat he pulled out his knife and cut some fruit into slices, offering several pieces to Liz. She gratefully accepted them; she hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She smiled at him and said, “Thanks. So… are we on the right path?”

“We’ll find it soon. So Elizabeth,” Locke gave Liz a hint of a smile “Are you on the right path?”

She swallowed so hard that she nearly choked on the fruit she was eating. She sputtered a quick, “Excuse me?”

But instead of responding he simply stood and told her that he was going to scout the area for fresh tracks. “Why don’t you stay here while I pick up the trail? You look like you could use the rest. It shouldn’t take too long.”

Okay, sometimes he had an almost weird sense of what was going on. He was the proverbial mystery wrapped in an enigma and drenched with secret sauce.

**The pain in her wrists and ankles was unbearable. The restraints were sticky with her blood. The cold from the floor seeped into her bones and made them ache. She had no idea of how long she had been there but the stiffness in her joints let her know that it had been quite some time. She tried in vain to see something – anything – that would give her any indication as to where she was. The darkness enveloped her and shrouded her with fear. The eerie silence was maddening. She wished for a sound to break the deafening quiet. Then the screams started. They were chilling, sending shivers over her and through her. They were screams of agony, of searing pain, of primal fear. As the screams abruptly stopped the heavy footsteps began. She knew they were coming closer to where she was, and she knew that the footsteps were bringing evil to where she was. She heard the creaking of an opening door and she felt her own scream start to rise in her throat.**

“Elizabeth.” Locke was holding her as she thrashed about violently, struggling against the nightmare. “Elizabeth, wake up!”

Liz awoke with a start but the feel of Locke holding her down echoed the restraints of the nightmare, causing her to fight against him. She heard him repeating her name as though it were through a fog. At his sharp, “ELIZABETH!” she finally become aware that she was not trapped in the nightmare. He locked eyes with her and saw that they were filled with panic. She tried to steady her breathing. He finally let her go when he realized that she was calming down.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I guess I dozed off…” Her voice faded away as she tried to recover from the terror. This one had been a bad one, so bad that she actually felt the pain in her wrists even when she was awake. She rubbed them absent-mindedly.

“You were screaming.” Locke looked at her with concern in his eyes. “Maybe we should head back.”

She gave an abrupt, “NO!” and shook her head adamantly. Her voice softened a bit as she stood up. “No, I’m fine. I just need to… I’ll be fine once we get moving again.”

Locke’s doubt was apparent but he said nothing other than, “The tracks are this way.”

Liz had trouble concentrating on the task at hand. They had been tracking this boar for several miles now and yet she still couldn’t shake the reality of the nightmares. Why was she having them? Why now? She had learned long ago to control the dreams but since crashing on the island they had not only returned but had come back with a vengeance and an unreal frequency. She tripped over a snarl of roots and would have fallen if Locke had not caught and steadied her. She froze at his touch; even her breathing stopped. She croaked out a whispered, “No” as the tears began to pool in her eyes. “Please don’t….” She felt herself falling as she stumbled back in an effort to get away.

Locke grabbed her again, and that was when he felt the scarred tissue on her wrists. He looked closely at the scars, at the twisted flesh that encircled each of her wrists. She couldn’t look in his eyes; she couldn’t bring herself to. Her emotions were as tangled as the roots beneath her. She felt terror and safety and humiliation all at the same time. His fingers trailed along the scars, tracing the misshapen tissue lightly. She wanted to pull away from him but was frozen to the spot. No one ever touched the scars, no one but the doctors. Most people were disgusted by them; certainly no one wanted to see them, much less touch them. They were the reason she always wore long sleeves, no matter what the weather.

He looked in her eyes again. “The nightmare?” Her nod was almost imperceptible. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I think maybe we should go back now.”

Locke stayed close to her as they began the long journey back to the camp, neither saying a word about the day’s events. He sensed that she didn’t want to talk about it, just as Liz knew she couldn’t tell him about the nightmares. She wanted them to remain buried deep inside; opening that door again would only lead to more suffering, more demons.

By the time they reached the beach late that evening Liz felt steady enough to face the rest of the survivors. She knew she wouldn’t be sleeping that night. What she wouldn’t give for some caffeine. She considered going to Sawyer for drugs; surely he had some type of stimulant that she could bargain for. He was hording enough meds to start his own pharmacy, but nothing came free with him and she really had nothing to bargain with. She didn’t dare go to Jack, the doctor, for anything. That would only lead to questions and she wasn’t prepared to give the answers he would demand. She sighed as she wondered how she was going to get through the night without sleeping. As it was, she could only see one way out, and that wasn’t something she was prepared to do.

She skipped dinner, sitting off some distance from everyone else. She looked at the scars on her wrists, studying the intricate details that she had long ago memorized. She pulled her sleeves down over her hands and clenched the fabric in her fists.

Under normal circumstances, the sunset would have been a thing of beauty to behold. But the mesmerizing colors of the sky over the water held no attraction for Liz. It simply meant that the moon would soon rise and with it the terror would begin once again. She drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them close to her body, trying to find warmth that wasn’t there. She laid her head on her crossed arms and watched as Locke approached.

“I thought you might be hungry.” He offered her some fish and the ever so popular fruit. “Mind if I sit?”

Liz gave him a weak smile and turned her attention back to the sunset. She noticed he didn’t sit too close; he didn’t want to spook her.

“So do they happen every time you sleep?”

She knew he was referring to the nightmares. She took a long time before she finally answered, “Yes. At least since we got here. It seems that every time I close my eyes the terror starts again. I thought it was behind me, but…. It’s just easier to not sleep.” Her voice faded into the sound of the crashing waves.

“You need to sleep, Elizabeth. You can’t keep going on like nothing is wrong, getting only one or two hours of sleep a day. Maybe Jack can…”

“NO! No more doctors. I’ve been through this before and I can get through it again.”

“Elizabeth, whatever happened before… you’re safe here.” When she didn’t respond he continued. “What if I stay with you, while you sleep? I give you my word that nothing is going to happen to you.”

She looked at him cautiously. “Thanks, but.…”

Locke gave her an ultimatum. “Either you let me get Jack to give you something to help you sleep or you let me stay with you while you sleep. Whichever way, you are going to get some rest.”

Liz reluctantly agreed to the latter of the two choices, finally settling into a fitful sleep.

*The footsteps echoed as they drew closer to her. She almost wished for the screams to return so that she wouldn’t hear the footsteps as they came nearer and nearer. Each thud of each step brought her that much closer to evil. When the door creaked open she felt the fear rising up through her; the malevolence was so palpable that she felt like she was going to vomit. The voice was raspy and low and full of malice as it repeated over and over what torment she was going to be put through. She felt the cool blade of the knife as it was pressed against her flesh and ran along the length of her thigh, its pointed tip halting at the top of her leg. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of responding, although every fiber of her being was screaming. Hot tears streamed down her face as the blade began slicing through her skin; he was marking her, branding her with his own pattern, carving her so that no one would ever want her, all the while his rough voice telling her that this was only the beginning, that soon he would doing things to her that only happened in gruesome and terrifying movies, and then when he had all the pleasure from her that he could get, he would watch the life drain from her battered body….*

Liz awoke as her body was racked with sobs. Locke was there, just as he promised, and tried to comfort her but she knew it would never end, that she would never get away from it. She struggled against him, against the terror. He had his arms wrapped around her and was whispering in her ear, telling her continually that she was safe and that she was okay and that it was a dream and was over. She desperately wanted to believe him. She needed to believe him. He kept his arms around her and rocked her gently, his words of reassurance encouraging her to steady her breathing. She was clinging to his words, focusing on the sounds of his calm voice, his even heartbeat, steady breathing.

She didn’t know how long he held her like that. It felt like hours. But for the first time in long time she felt safe. She hadn’t let anyone hold her since before… well, to be honest no one had ever really held her like that. As night drifted toward dawn she found herself falling into a tranquil sleep, and for the first time since crashing on the island, the nightmares didn’t come for her.

*~*~*~*

Locke seemed to make it his personal mission to make sure he was there for Liz every night. If she woke from one of her nightmares she would settle in to his arms and focus on his soft words and the beat of his heart and be lulled to sleep. He became the gatekeeper of the nightmares, miraculously able to keep most of the demons at bay. She actually found herself looking forward to the nights rather than dreading them. She was finally able to rest easily.

He had been hunting each day, and she would periodically join him, but on this particular day he suggested that he and Liz go exploring; perhaps they could find more salvage. She went without hesitation, knowing that her safety was assured. She had grown fond of Locke, more so that she thought she was capable of. The scars he had seen didn’t bother him.

They hiked along the jungle’s edge, then turned inward, making their way further and further from the others. They found little as they went, but what they did find might prove useful. It was odd how things were so scattered about; it made her wonder how anyone had survived at all. As they continued they found a small pond that looked like an ideal campsite. Liz knew that as far as they had gone, they wouldn’t be returning to the beach that night.

When they finally made camp she was more than ready to stop for the day. She wanted to take a swim and maybe even rinse out her clothes but didn’t dare do so with anyone around, even Locke. As dusk fell all around them, Liz found herself wishing that she could tell him about the scars – all of them. She looked at her wrists in the firelight and wondered what his reaction would be. Would it be worth the risk of rejection?

He took his usual spot beside her, staying close in case she needed him. She felt an invisible blanket of safety enveloping her as he did so. Neither spoke but stared thoughtfully into at the dancing flames of the fire, sitting side by side.

“It was ten years ago. I, I was 17.” Her voice was so soft that she didn’t know if he would even hear her. He gently took her hand in his, a simple touch to signify that he was listening. He let her tell the story at her pace and without interruption. As the words spilled out, Liz was transported back to the darkest time of her life.

"During my senior year of high school I went to a frat party at one of the local universities with a friend of mine. It was while we were there that someone drugged me; I guess he put something in my drink. When I woke up I was in the back of a car. I was blindfolded and gagged, and my hands and feet were bound so tightly that I couldn’t move. Every time I tried to move the wires cut into my skin. He drove for hours before he stopped. He had this cabin out in the middle of nowhere. He kept me there for so long that I lost track of time. He never untied me, never took off the blindfold. I was allowed just enough water to survive. I found out we weren’t alone when I heard the screams coming from the other room. He had someone else there, torturing her. Every time he came to the room I was in he would taunt me and tell me that my turn was coming. And then it did. I tried to fight him but I couldn’t. He carved me up, taking pleasure in marking me with his knife. After he was satisfied that I was sufficiently mutilated, he raped me again and again and again. I had never been with…. At the trial he said that having a virgin made it that much sweeter. When he was finished he plunged his knife in me and left it there. He left, left us both for dead. If he hadn’t been in that wreck, if his wife hadn’t come to the cabin to get his things, I would have died. The other girl, I never saw her; she died at the hospital. The doctors said it was a miracle that I had survived; they said if he hadn’t left the knife in I would have. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I haven’t wondered why I was allowed to live, why I have had to deal with the scars. I wished I had died. It would have been so much easier than dealing with the aftermath, of dealing with…."

Liz’s voice died out as she watched the fire blur through her tears. She held her breath as she waited for his response. She had only shared the trauma with only one other man and his response had been to leave as fast as he could. He basically said sorry and then thanks, but no thanks. It was too much for him to deal with. She understood, however, because frankly most of the time it was too much for her to deal with.

When John let go of her hand, she wasn’t surprised. She expected it, expected him to be sickened by her past. What she didn’t expect was for him to turn her face toward his. He looked into her eyes and said, “Elizabeth, you were meant to survive then, just as you were meant to survive now.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He kissed her very tenderly, allowing her to process the fact that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he was willing to accept her, scars and all.

She stopped him. “John, I can’t. What he did.… I’m afraid…. ”

“I know.” He pulled her closer and said, “I can wait.”


*~*~*~*


As she grew more and more comfortable with him, Liz found herself trying to find more alone time with John. She would frequently go hunting with him and once or twice asked him to take a stroll on the beach with her. It seemed the more relaxed she was with him, the more relaxed she became with herself. Even when they ventured far from the others and spent the night alone, she never worried about her safety or about him pressing her for a physical relationship.

She realized how much she admired him on one of their moonlit walks. They had walked quite far and were watching the moon rise over the ocean. She studied his profile in the soft light of the moon. Somehow over the course of their being together, her feelings for him had changed. She no longer thought of him just as a friend, or just as a protector; she thought of him with love. In a spontaneous moment, she found herself kissing him. She wasn’t ready to give herself to him yet, but she was ready to begin the journey. He never rushed her but let her take the lead. So many other men would have grown tired of waiting for her, but his patience was seemingly unending. He truly cared about what she thought, how she felt, and what she needed. Each time they were together she became bolder in actions, and each time she was able to push herself a little closer to giving herself to him.

It was on one of their hunts that everything changed. As they sat by the fire she decided that she needed to show him the scars. Would he be disgusted by them? By her? She had to know. She turned to him and blushed as she whispered, “I want you to see them, the scars. I need for you to see, to know….”

She slowly unbuttoned her shirt, revealing scars that few had been witness to. If he truly wanted her, they wouldn’t matter. His breath caught in his throat and he scowled as he began to truly realize the extent of the torture she had been through. He traced the multitude of rough scars with his fingers, an effort to erase the pain of the past. She knew that he needed to see everything, every mark, every blemish, just as much as she needed him to see them. He continued tracing each wound, and instead of feeling embarrassment or pain, Liz felt healing and love. She murmured his name.

He kissed her with a tenderness she had never known. “Elizabeth, you’re beautiful.” His feather-light kisses continued, tracing the tracks of her tears before finding her mouth again. And for the first time in her adult life, her desire to be loved was stronger than her fear of the past.

*~*~*~*~*

They had been on the island for two weeks, and still no rescue was in sight. Using the excuse of hunting or exploring, she and John would find a few hours in each day to be together. On one such afternoon he surprised with a small picnic; it wasn’t much, but in her eyes it was wonderful. He had gone out of his way to do something special for her; no one had done that before.

After lunch she lay in his arms, enjoying their time together. He ran his fingers up and down her arm, his touch giving her goose bumps. When he caressed her breast she stiffened and closed her eyes, almost anticipating an assault upon her body.

“Elizabeth, look at me.” She opened her eyes but did not relax. His eyes held hers intently as he continued whispering to her. “Do you trust me?”

Her mind wrestled in indecision. She trusted him; it was herself she didn’t trust. What if she couldn’t be with him the way he needed her to be? What if…

He interrupted her thoughts, “Do. You. Trust. Me?”

She did. This time she kissed him, allowing her kiss to become more passionate as her fears slipped from her mind. At this moment, in this time and place, there was no past. There was only the here and now and that was all that mattered. His hand returned to her breast, feeling her through the silkiness of her bra. She moaned against him as his thumb brushed across her nipple. He deftly removed her bra, exposing the last and the worst of the scars. Liz turned her head away, not wanting to see his reaction. She laid there as he kissed the painful past away, causing her tears to start anew as she realized that to him, the scars did not matter; she mattered.

Soon his kisses gained in intensity as he moved from one breast to the other. When he sucked a nipple into his mouth she gasped in such surprise that he stopped to see if she wanted him to continue or not. The concern on his face melted the last of the walls that she had built up around her. She had never before allowed herself to be this intimate with anyone; her body had never allowed herself to feel pleasure at anyone’s touch. “John, please….” Her hushed plea did not go unanswered as he resumed his ministrations. She felt her desire for him grow stronger with each touch, each kiss. When his hand traveled to her panties she froze only momentarily. His caresses were so gentle, so loving, that found herself giving in to her passion. His hands explored her body with such softness; she never wanted him to stop. He did stop, however, looking at her questioningly as he started to slide her panties down. She offered no protest and concentrated only on his eyes, reminding herself that she was safe with him; he would never harm her.

His fingers were tender with their probing, allowing her to adjust to the feelings that she had never before experienced. She whimpered as the strokes grew in intensity. When his mouth mingled with his fingers she felt her body respond in ways she hadn’t thought possible. Her climax caught her by surprise, so much so that she gasped in amazement. Again, the concern appeared in John’s eyes as he wanted to assure himself that she was all right.

She tugged on the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head, wanting to feel his skin on hers. She snuggled closer to him, delighting in his scent. Her fingers moved lightly over his chest and arms, appreciating every inch of skin that she encountered. He groaned in approval.

With unsteady hand she reached for the waistband of his pants. He grabbed her hand and stopped her. “Elizabeth, you don’t….”

She silenced him with a kiss. “Yes, I do. I need to know that I can do this. Please….”

He helped her as she removed the rest of his clothing, her touch tentative. She let her fingers continue their journey of discovery, hesitantly running them down his hardened shaft. She delighted in his shivers and grew bolder in her explorations. She continued until he grabbed her hand again. When he spoke, his voice was gravelly and low, “Elizabeth, are you sure?”

She wasn’t sure. She didn’t know how she would react if they went further. She searched his eyes for answers he couldn’t give, answers she knew only she possessed. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she replied, “I trust you.”

He rolled her over so that she was on top of him, knowing that she needed to feel in control of what was happening. He kissed her with more passion, fondling her and touching her until she was ready for him. Slowly he lowered her onto him, not wanting to hurt her; for all intents and purposes, he was the first man she had been with. When he first entered her she found herself tensing, but as he whispered her name she relaxed and allowed herself to get lost in his eyes, lost in the moment, in the feelings stirring deep within her.

John allowed her to set the pace, allowed her to control his depth within her. When he found her clit with his thumb, she moaned and increased her momentum. Her body convulsed as she was overcome by her orgasm. Liz felt him thrust within her as his own climax took hold. For the first time, her tears were tears of pleasure.

“You okay?”

“Mmm-hmmm.” Liz sighed in contentment. She lay on top him and ran her hands across his chest, not wanting the feelings to end. She took her lead from him and began following her hands with her mouth, kissing him delicately as she explored his body. She continued until she had memorized every muscle, every line in his skin. Teasing his nipples the way he had done for her, she was startled when he abruptly stopped her and pulled her up to him. Seeing her own desire reflected in his eyes, she whispered softly, “Make love to me again.”

He rolled over so that he was on top of her. Where before the kisses had been tender, this time they were filled with passion. She found herself moaning, wanting more, needing more. She needed to feel him inside her again. Her moans urged him on, encouraging him to possess her. As he settled above her she focused on his eyes, on his concentrated effort to pace himself, reminding herself that he was her protector. Once more, he entered her slowly but this time she grabbed his hips and pulled him toward her, forcing him deep inside her. He groaned and said her name, sending shivers throughout her body. He grabbed her legs and wrapped them around his waist, pushing into her as far as he could. As he pumped into her she ran her hands over his back, his chest, his arms, touching every inch of skin that she could reach. John adjusted her legs again making the angle too wonderful; she felt her insides clinch around him as the orgasm built within her, taking control of the moment. She was aware of him coming inside her as his body tensed and then relaxed. He rested his forehead against hers and tried to regain control of his breathing. She wondered how she ever doubted him. When he finally moved, it felt like Liz was losing a part of herself; she wanted to stay intimately connected to him and whimpered her displeasure. Although she wanted to savor the moment, she found her eyelids getting heavy. She fell into a dreamless sleep with a small smile on her face

When Liz awoke the sun was beginning to set over the horizon; she found John lying on his side next to her, watching her, smiling at her, eyes twinkling, his hand resting on her abdomen. She should have been self-conscious about lying naked beside him, so exposed, but she didn’t. She felt whole.

“John, what you’ve done…” She found that words couldn’t express how she felt at finding freedom from her past. She reached up to caress his stubbled face and smiled back at him. “Thank you seems so inadequate.” Burying her face in his chest, she continued softly, “I wish we had met sooner.”

“We found each other just when we needed to. If we had met any sooner, it wouldn’t have been the same.” He voice had a cryptic quality, and she wondered what he meant. He had been so patient with her that she didn’t feel the need to press him for an answer; he would tell her when he felt the time was right. “And as much as I hate to say it, we’d best be heading back.”

Liz groaned into his chest at the thought of returning to camp. Their moments alone were few and far between. In a camp of forty-plus survivors, even spread out in two different encampments, privacy was scarce. She reluctantly got dressed, smiling at the thought that for the first time in ten years she was reluctant to dress, and helped pack up the remains of the picnic.

When they got to the path that divided the beach from the caves, he pulled her into an embrace. “I’ve got some things I need to do; I’ll find you later, okay?”

“Mmmm, promise?” Liz found herself breathing in his scent, and was a bit surprised to find that he smelled a little like her. A tender caress on her cheek promised his return.

When she reached her shelter at the beach, she fell asleep almost immediately, exhausted from the day. This time, rather than dream of the past, she dreamt of the present, of the present that John Locke had given her.

**The darkness enveloped her and shrouded her with fear. It was happening again; he was coming for her this time. She heard the door open and felt a scream start to rise in her throat. As her blindfold was removed her eyes adjusted to the light coming from the open doorway. It wasn’t the monster, it was John. He carefully removed the wires that had been cutting into her wrists and ankles. He tenderly cleaned her wounds and then gently lifted her, carrying her out of the hell she had been in for so long, banishing the nightmare forever.**