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Sayid's watch hadn't worked since the sky had turned purple while he was on the Elizabeth. No one's had. Nevertheless, he continued to run his life on a very tight schedule.
Sayid was always among the first to wake in the mornings, partly because he had always risen with the sun, but also because Vincent usually came around at sunrise to lick his face. Walt had given the dog to Shannon, and as his new mistress's boyfriend, he'd come to view Sayid as a surrogate master, and even after her death, Vincent still came to Sayid for petting every morning before going off and doing whatever it was he did all day in the jungle and around the camp. No one knew, or would even have guessed, but Sayid secretly loved 'having' the dog.
He spent most of every morning setting up the day's water supplies and making sure that all the practical aspects of camp life were being taken care of. He'd done this since the beginning---whenever he wasn't off in the jungle---even before Jack (not to mention Kate and Sawyer) had gotten captured. Sayid left the inspirational side of leadership to Jack, but he had always been the quiet, unassuming force behind the scenes. He'd always liked it that way.
Recently, he'd been spending the afternoons building a communal dining table and food preparation area for the camp with Charlie. They'd started working on it about a week after Shannon's death; it was Sayid's first attempt to move on, and although it was just one of many projects he had been involved with since crashing on the island, this was the first one that was working towards something permanent, that was not about trying to get off the island or about basic temporary survival. This was something superfluous and pleasant, something that was going to make the camp feel like a home.
But today, Charlie had asked for the day off, presumably to go mope down the beach, as far as Sayid could see. Charlie had been acting extremely strangely for the past couple of days, but showed no desire to talk about whatever was bothering him. Sayid went just inside the edge of the jungle to chop wood for the table, as well as for the nightly campfire. With Sawyer and Jack gone, this job, too, had fallen on Sayid's shoulders, and he finally understood why Sawyer had always insisted upon making this his responsibility: the backbreaking work was mind-numbingly cathartic, and Sayid welcomed it. The more work he did, the less he had to think---about himself, about his life, about Shannon, about Nadia, about how they were going to get off this rock, about the psychologically disturbing statue he had seen… all Sayid wanted these days was to be able to spend a day without thinking.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that their odd new campmate, Desmond, had come to lean on a neighboring tree. Drinking liberally from a water bottle, he stood silently and watched as Sayid chopped the logs one by one into small pieces, wearing himself out and building up a formidable sweat.
Finally, Sayid could take it no longer. Resting the axe on the ground and leaning on it, he asked, "Is there something I can help you with, Desmond?"
Desmond squinted one eye and took another swig from the water bottle before answering, "I've been watching you."
"I've noticed," he replied, feeling slightly unsettled by the remark. Somehow, everything Desmond said struck Sayid as a confusing mix of friendly and menacing, which had made it difficult to gauge how the very few conversations they'd had so far were going. It was something about his accent. Sayid had never met a Scotsman before.
"You're always working," Desmond stated, quite obviously, and with the same possibly drunk, menacing friendliness.
"I keep myself busy." Thinking of Desmond's previous binges and subsequent hangovers, Sayid could have said, unlike some people, but that would have been unkind and unnecessary. Plus, if anyone deserved to drink his sorrows away, Sayid thought it was Desmond. So, he turned back to his lumber and began chopping again.
Behind him, he could still feel Desmond watching him.
A few minutes passed.
"Do you beat yourself up inside as hard as you're giving it to those poor logs?"
Sayid dropped the axe and rested his hands on his knees while he caught his breath. Clearly, whatever Desmond was trying to do had to be dealt with before Sayid could continue. "I don't know what you mean," he panted.
"No one chops wood like that unless they're hurting inside. You'll kill yourself if you keep going at this rate."
"I think it is more likely that I will run out of logs before we reach such a junction," Sayid replied with an effort at a smirk.
Desmond pushed himself off the tree with one leg and walked towards Sayid. "Come. You need a break."
"If you could spare a drink of water, I would appreciate it," Sayid replied. Desmond handed over the bottle.
"You're welcome to it, brother, but that isn't what I mean. You need a holiday. Some relaxation. I'm new to this here camp, but no one works as hard as you do. While you're massacring wood, everyone else is playing golf or gossiping or trying to teach the baby rude words."
Sayid caught the twinkle in Desmond's eye and laughed. He hadn't heard that one about the baby. However, he remained firm, because for some reason, Desmond's advice gave him a cold chill of panic in his heart. If he stopped working, he would have to start thinking…
"This work needs to be done," he argued, having a feeling that Desmond would come back with a counter-argument.
"So get someone else to do it. They all listen to you, brother. If you said jump, they would jump. If you asked any one of the men, they'd take over some work for you. And if you asked any one of the women… they'd do something else, I reckon."
Sayid stared at the ground, trying to think. Now that he'd stopped, he realized that his arm was tired enough to fall off, and that he really did need to stop, at least for a few minutes.
Humoring his unasked-for companion, he asked, "And what do I suggest that I do instead?"
Desmond's smile grew wide at what appeared to be the magic question. "Come camping with me," he all but pleaded.
Sayid scoffed. "I understand that you spent the past three years living in the hatch, but in a sense, that was a modern home. In case you haven't noticed, we have been living on a beach for two months. We already are camping."
"You go off into the jungle all the time," Desmond reasoned. "I've heard all about it. Why not go on a hike for pleasure?"
"There is no pleasure in it. I always go on them for a reason." As the words left Sayid's lips, he wondered how true they were. However, he put the thought out of his head and asked, "What is your reason?"
Desmond's eyes grew and became a little wild, as they sometimes did. "If I'm going to be stuck here, I want to see what else there is on this island. That day we went out with Locke to the Pearl station was the first chance I've had in years to stretch my legs and actually see something. I want to see more, and this time, without having to break it up for a funeral."
"Why don't you ask Locke to go with you, then? I am sure you will find him a much more adept guide than myself."
"Locke doesn't need the break as much as you do, brother," Sayid stated.
The panic was returning, and there was something about Desmond's wild eyes. "I've already told you that I don't need a break," Sayid replied, but less firmly this time.
Desmond chuckled to himself. "I've heard that you're very good at getting people to tell the truth, Sayid. What about working some of that magic on yourself?"
"So, you really aren't going to tell me where we're going?" Desmond asked from behind as Sayid thrashed and cut his way through the brush.
"I want you to experience it as I did," was Sayid's brusque reply. Without turning around, he could picture the tousled hair, the cocksure grin, and the unreasonable expanse of open chest behind him. They'd been walking all day long. It was nearing nightfall and Sayid was looking for a good place to spend the night. He'd enjoyed the day, despite himself; in a way it was a day off, but the effort of breaking a path for them to walk through was as physically exhausting as building with Charlie would have been. Desmond was just as chatty as Charlie, though, if not more. However, what made this discovery surprising was the fact that while Charlie talked to everyone in the camp, Sayid had never seen Desmond get this chatty with anyone. His perception of the man as a silent trauma victim had been shattered by the day's ramblings on the army, on his long lost love, on his faith, on beard care. It turned out that they had much more in common than Sayid had guessed, and he had found himself slowly opening up in a way that he hadn't since Shannon's death.
"And you say it's a secret?" Desmond now asked.
"Only Sun and Jin know, yes. As you can see, it's quite far from the camp, and the only reason I ever found it is because we had your boat. Here," he added, "we can sleep here tonight."
It was a good spot, near a large rock and protected from any potential rain by a heavy leaf covering. Sayid slumped down and began rummaging through his rucksack for some dinner. He shared a tin of beans and an energy bar with his companion.
"We should probably get to sleep soon. We should conserve the torches in case there is an emergency tomorrow," Sayid reasoned.
"Trying to get rid of me, eh, brother?"
"Not at all."
"Whatever you say." Desmond stopped talking for awhile to chew. "So, you didn't even want to come on this hike with me, but now you're going to show me some big secret. Why the change of heart?"
Sayid had been wondering that himself. Initially, he had only wanted to show Desmond the place in the beach with the wire leading out into the ocean (something else that had been a mystery to him), but after a couple of hours of the man's company, he realized that he was actually enjoying this, and enjoying Desmond's company. He'd been wanting someone with whom to share the existence of the statue, and Desmond's conversation gave Sayid the feeling that perhaps he'd be best able to brainstorm what it was.
"I decided that you can handle it," he replied simply.
Desmond snorted. "Glad to have met with your approval, mate."
Sayid slid his back down the rock he was leaning on and lay on the ground. "Goodnight, Desmond," he said.
Desmond grunted.
"So how much farther?" Desmond asked the next day after they'd been walking for a few hours. Today, they walked side by side instead of with Desmond behind.
"I came by boat the last time. I can't be quite sure exactly how far away it is by---"
But then the forest opened up to a long beach, and there is was. They both stopped in their tracks and stared at the plinth and the majestic foot resting atop it.
"This is it," Sayid announced. He was just as disquieted as he had been the first time. There was something about this spot that was different, and now that he was actually standing near it rather than sailing by it, he could feel it all the stronger, much as he didn't want to.
Desmond crossed himself. "My god."
"It only has four toes," Sayid stated. It was the most upsetting aspect about the entire thing. He started walking again. "Come. Let's explore it."
He only got two steps before Desmond frantically reached out to grab his arm. "No!"
Sayid did not like being manhandled, even by his friends. "What is wrong with you? What was the point of coming all the way here if we aren't going to explore?"
Desmond kept staring at the statue with that wild, unsettling look he sometimes got. "We can't go. Not now. Now isn't the time."
"What are you talking about?" But Desmond's voice was giving him a chill.
"I don't know how I know, but I do. We'll go there one day, but not today. Us, and some of the others. Sayid, please. Let's get away from here."
Sayid could tell that Desmond would not be moved, and there was something about his aspect that was frightening him, so he gave in. "Fine. We can go."
They walked in silence for some time. Sayid was frustrated. He'd come all this way for nothing, and now that the moment had passed, he didn't know why he had gone along with Desmond's completely irrational behavior. It was unlike him. It was…
"Sayid." Desmond had such a soothing way of saying his name. As if reading Sayid's mind, Desmond continued, "It wasn't a waste of time. You still took a break. Talked to someone---me. If it will make you feel better, when we get back, I'll help you and Charlie with that table."
"Your help would be much appreciated. And you can keep Charlie out of trouble."
"That was the idea, brother."
Desmond was right. It hadn't been a waste of time. Sayid had made a friend. However, Desmond remained a mystery.