Ghostwalkers { Hurley }

[Charlie Pace]

This was a bad idea. This was a horribly bad idea and he knew that he'd be better off just leaving. Somehow, he had managed to enter in the side, away from all the paps in the front, however, Charlie knew it wouldn't be long until they made their way inside. Or someone tipped them off that he was back at the Roosevelt again.

"Charlie! Charlie, I heard you had another fight with your brother--"

And there it was. They were over him in and instant, coming from all around. He had never been nervous with the cameras before, however, Charlie hadn't been off drugs, either. "Nah, I mean, we had a disagreement, is all--"

"Charlie, is it true that you've found a new love?"

"Charlie, how're you feeling after your stint in the hospital? People are saying it was an overdose."

"So Charlie, is DriveShaft going to have a big reunion concert? Is the band really dead? Are you going solo?"

"Look, Liam and I...we're working on something. I have been writing new songs, yes, and I'm hoping to get into the studio as soon as possible. And yeah, I was in the hospital before Christmas, but I had a bad case of pneumonia. There were no drugs, nothin'; sorry to pop your bubbles. And as for my love life...we'll, that's none of your business, guys. Guys," Charlie motioned over to the two security guards. "Sorry, mates. I gotta go up and see my brother."

Being that close to them, having them mention the drugs made Charlie's head spin. He turned quickly and made towards the elevator. Pressing the button more times than he should, he brought a hand up, pressing it against his eyes before he heard the ding of the door. Not bothering to look up, Charlie moved to enter, but hit something hard, solid and big. Looking up quickly, Charlie saw a large man with long, curly hair.

"Oh, hey. Sorry, mate. Wasn't--uh...wasn't watchin'. Sorry."

[Hurley Reyes]

Hurley was standing around in the lobby of the hotel, what he was really doing was waiting on the Lakers game to start. The TV in the lobby was bigger and he liked having all the people around him. It felt nice, comforting. As he was standing in front of the brochures sipping on a cherry slusho, he felt something run into him.

He turned to look at what had hit him, and when he saw it he froze. Standing dead still, like a deer caught in the head lights, his lips still rounded, hovering an inch or so above his straw. Then it spoke.

Blinking rapidly, not sure what to make of it. He was acting like he didn't recognize him! He was acting like he was alive..."AGGGGGGGH!" Hurley blurted out a quick short yelp. Snapping his jaw shut and continuing to stare at the apparition with heavy mistrust.

Closing his eyes tightly, Hurley muttered to himself about how this wasn't real, and how he was seeing things, and he was NOT going back to Santa Rosa. Slowly opening one eye, then the other, only to find he had failed. Charlie Pace was still standing before him.

He debated running, but then remembered what Doctor Robert had talked about in the schizophrenia class. Confront the voices. "Confront the voices." Hurley whispered to himself, trying to get his confidence up. Still staring wide eyed at his formerly dead friend, he ventured to speak.

"Dude, you're like...dead."

[Charlie Pace]

Charlie watched the large man, silent as he saw him stand still as a log. An eyebrow arched slowly as Hurley started to blink rapidly. "Hey. Hey, mate, you--"

"AGGGGGGH!"

Charlie jerked back against the elevator as Hurley yelled, palms pressed against the faux wood of the elevator walls. "What the HELL, man?!" Charlie asked with a frown. "--The bloody HELL is your--"

"Dude, you're like...dead."

"What?!" Charlie asked, wondering if the larger man was going to grab him and break him in half like the Hulk. Except the man wasn't green. No, he was sort of pale right now, like he had seen a ghost. Of course, Charlie thought silently, maybe he had thought he had seen a ghost. He said that he was supposed to be dead, after all. Looking back slightly behind him at the faux wood of the elevator, to see maybe if, you know...a ghost would appear behind him, he looked back at Hurley, eyes slightly wide.

Of course, there had been nothing behind Charlie, so the man had meant him.

Please don't let him kill me, please don't let him kill me. Just say something nice, Charlie-Boy, to defuse this situation. Say something about--his shirt! You like his shirt, don't you? No, that's crap. The weather--no, the weather's shit. Think. Think, Pace, THINK--

"Um...you know, I know I'M alive and stuff, but...but did you know that they say that Marilyn Monroe's ghost haunts the pool? Yeah. They say that she like, haunts it and stuff. Walks around and the like. Possibly in that little white bathing suit and those heels. I'm sure she still looks...you know...smashing." He paused, watching Hurley cautiously.

"You aren't gonna go all...crazy on me are you?"

[Hurley Reyes]

Hurley just blinked. Its all he could will his body to do at the current moment.

Charlie was here. Alive. Charlie was Alive. Here. Charlie was alive here, and didn't seem to recognize Hurley at all. That or he was playing a very cruel joke. That had to be it. A Joke. It was Charlie after all. Giving him a slow uneasy look up and down, assessing that he was, indeed real. How wasn't important, because how would only make his head hurt. All he had to focus on was that his friend wasn't dead. He was here. Alive and well.

A slow grin appeared on Hurley's face, growing into a massive smile as he surged forward scooping the other man up in a tight bear hug, lifting him up off the floor as he embraced his formerly dead friend.

"Dude!" Hurley almost cried right then and there. "Dude...You're alive...you...How!?" Hurley exclaimed, setting him down and looking at Charlie with wide eyes. "Like.. what happened? How did you get here....are you okay?" Hurley reached a hand out to pat Charlie as if to make sure once more he was real. "Did it like... hurt?"


(sorry for crap post. muse isn't cooperating with me.)

[Charlie Pace]

((Pfft, that totally wasn't crap!))

The large man was staring at him, silent and uneasy, and for a moment, Charlie wondered if it'd be useful to make a break for it. What if he was one of those creepy stalkers that said, 'ohmigod, I love you Charlieeeeeee!' and then pulled how a pistol and shot him? The man hadn't pulled out a gun yet. Maybe he was prolonging the experience. Suddenly, Charlie felt nervous. "So, uh...yeah, well, then, I guess, uh...I guess I'll see you late--"

Charlie watched as the slow grin spread on Hurley's face, growing to a massive smile before the larger man rushed him, grabbing him into a tight bear hug. Charlie was lifted off the floor. "AH! Oi, geroff!" Charlie said and frowned deeply as Hurley put him down. "What the blood hell man? Personal SPACE. Violation of it!"

"Dude! Dude...you're alive...you...How?! Like...what happened? How did you get here...are you okay?"

Was he talking about what had happened over Christmas? Sure, it had all been in the papers and of course, everyone had said what they knew had to be true; drug overdose. Charlie's brows narrowed slightly as he tried to process the man's flurry of questions.

"Because...because you're too big! You won't fit in the boat!"

Something about his thoughts made Charlie pale for a brief moment, before he looked at Hurley again. Of course, he didn't know this man but...he seemed so familiar. "Um...look, I don't know what you saw in the papers or anything, mate, but I didn't--I was just in the hospital 'cause I had pneumonia." Yeah, Pneumonia, Charlie thought, bringing a hand up to his mouth and coughing half-heartedly. "And as to how I got here...I took a cab."

Hurley patted him once more. "Did it like...hurt?"

"What?" Charlie's voice took on a slightly shocked tone. God, was it ever going to stop? Charlie had been at his breaking point before, but with the reporters coming into the Roosevelt, the constant flurry of questions, demanding answers...

"Look," Charlie said, bringing a sleeve-covered hand up to his head, pressing it against his eyes. "Look, mate, okay, yeah. Yeah, I overdosed, okay? Yeah, I'm a sodding junkie but--but I'm trying, okay?" It was harder and harder not to get upset at the man. What the hell did he want, anyway?! "Look, I'm going to rehab twice a week and I've already been told that--that if I fuck up again, I'm headin' off to some state hospital or--or back to London and put in some sort of mental ward. I wasn't trying to kill myself, I'm just a sodding smack addict. Is that what you wanted to hear?! You can put that up in--in your paper or whatever. Everyone already knows it anyway, so--so just sod off, okay? You can quote me."

Charlie pushed past Hurley, out of the elevator and made his way to the stairs. He pushed the stairwell door open loudly and brushed the frustrated tears from his eyes with the back of his sleeve.