The Woman from the Plane [Lost Fanfiction]

Epilogue: A Far Better Rest

Ben had felt very much at peace since the rest of the Oceanic passengers had gone into the church. He should miss Hugo, he thought, but he didn't. He wasn't gone, really—and he was at rest.

It was a strange thing to go about his life, knowing that it wasn't really a life at all—but Alex needed him, and his great unfulfilled purpose was to be a father to her—the kind of father she deserved.

If her experience was anything like his, Rousseau would understand when she inevitably remembered. There would be no room for anger. Not here.

He knew Alex would forgive him too, in spite of how little he deserved it. He could spend another lifetime trying to atone for what he did, but it would never be enough. He would try, though. A second chance was not a thing to be wasted.

It was a Sunday morning—to the extent that it was really any day. He was driving—not heading anywhere in particular—but he felt a sudden urge to have a cup of strong tea. He pulled into the parking lot of a Coffee Bean.

There was a short line in the store. The woman in front of him had a Blackberry to her ear. Her sleek ivory dress flattered her slender figure. Her shoulder-length dark hair was shiny and pin straight. She held her hand over the phone to order an iced mocha, then went back to the conversation.

"I don't think it's worth it to get into a discovery dispute at this point—"

"No, I agree, but from a litigation risk perspective—"

Ben ordered a medium tea, deciding at the last moment to opt for the iced option.

"Well it's not like we couldn't file a cross-motion if it gets to that point, honestly—"

"Why do you think I'm here?"

The words hit Ben like a punch to the chest. He wasn't sure why, at first, but the fog he felt was familiar. He knew her.

She picked up her iced mocha from the counter and turned to grab a straw. He picked up his tea. She turned around to leave, and her eyes met his.

He stared at her, trying to understand his own reaction to her. She grinned at him, and—in his distraction—he bumped into her, spilling his tea all over her white dress.

"Holy fuck," she exclaimed, and immediately started laughing.

Valerie.

The memories rushed in—a second lifetime. All the gaps in his mind—in the time he'd spent with Hugo—suddenly made sense. The life he had remembered was overlaid with another life that he had somehow also lived.

Valerie swimming towards him. Valerie arguing with him about turkey. Valerie soaked with rain, sitting in the mud next to him. Valerie soaked in blood, kissing him.

His eyes filled with tears.

"I'm so sorry," he told her, his voice quiet. He grabbed napkins and handed them to her.

"It's fine—I needed an excuse to skip going into the office. Let me get you another tea."

"It was my fault—

"Well—maybe—but let me get you another one anyway."

"Alright," he agreed slowly.

Valerie on the beach at night. Valerie beaming at him in a white dress. Valerie by his side as he died, twice.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "You seem a little shaken."

"A friend of mine passed on last night," he told her quickly. "I'm a little out of it."