Lost fic - The Five People Charlie Pace Visits While Dead and the One Who Comes to Him
Another Lost fic. This fandom's muse will be the death of me. I swear there are just too many amazing characters to explore.
Title: The Five People Charlie Pace Visits While Dead and the One Who Comes to Him
Fandom: Lost
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Mainly Charlie & Charlie/Claire (but w/ others...as the title would suggest)
Rating PG
Summary: It doesn't start with Charlie travelling the world to instill fear, keep watch or chat up Hurley. No, it starts with a promise.
Notes: A big thanks to dustyirish2003 for beta'ing this for me.
I. Locke
Locke is the first he sees, and ironically, he's the last person he wants to see.
There were words unsaid between the two men. Blame that hovered over Locke's head for the dark twists that edged their way onto Charlie's path when Locke had accused him of straying. He blamed Locke for all his problems like a child blames a parent when they slip along their way.
When Charlie sees him, Locke is pacing the floor of his worn out tent. He's rubbing his head and cursing, frustrated. There are people lined up outside, ears pressed to the thinning canvas that separates leader from follower, and their shadows fall against him, loom like angry monsters waiting to swallow him whole.
He and Ben moved the island...and then what? There was no instruction manual on what came next. No cheat sheet from Ben or notes from Jacob tucked into his backpack when all was said and done. It was a trap that he fell into. Ben's trap. Charlie knew this before the idea even sprung from Jacob's lips. The benefit of being dead.
Locke now carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and continues to look back, waiting for ghosts to chase him, to tell him he's not meant for this. To correct him, instruct him, lose faith in him and leave him.
Charlie understands now the difficulty for Locke to trust, the wariness that settles under skin and waits for the slightest twitch to rise up and doubt, doubt, doubt!
Faith in this island was all the faith Locke could manage, and this island continued to fail him, dangled his healthy legs above his head and said, 'We can take this back any day now.'
And yet with all that on his plate, Locke still tried to help others. He really did. He didn't have to take the time to try and help Charlie. To help Claire. To protect Aaron. But he had. And Charlie sees that all Locke ever tries to do is to make the best out of what life has given.
For this, Charlie forgives him.
II. Liam
Liam has a new baby girl, two years old with large blonde curls and even bigger blue eyes. They named her Charlotte or Charlie, affectionately, because baby brother Charlie was gone and someone had to take his place. Liam needed a Charlie to take care of, a Charlie to worry about.
Charlie notices how Liam's eyes always seem to linger on Charlotte. She's playing tagalong to her older sister, Megan. She tugs at her shirt and begs to follow her to the other end of the playground. Liam sighs and covers his mouth with his hand as if trying to hide it.
His guilt over his own brother mingles with his relief, tied together inevitably. The stench of it is invisible to everyone but him.
Charlie's thumb sneaks between his fingers and touches the spot where the family ring once lay. He thinks of how it might have looked on little Charlotte's hand.
Deep down he knows Liam would have given it to Megan.
III. Jack&Kate
He refers to them as one person because that's exactly what they've become. They trail after each other, following tracks and looking for clues like they're still on the island. They don't see how one stares at the other too long, with eyes that burn, waiting...just waiting for the snap.
Then there are the other times when they smile wide and look happy (look being the key word). Those are the times when Aaron is watching.
It burns him, watching these two smile and play house with Claire's son, the boy they stole. The anger twists a hole into his stomach, makes him feel nauseous, a feeling he hasn't felt since he was still alive.
They make macaroni frames and stick pictures of their family in the center. They play catch in the back yard. They watch videos, curled up on the couch, Aaron smashed in the middle between their egos.
They will make this work. They will fix this -- this lie, this sham. They chant this creed in their stolen glances and empty sighs. The pill popping fallen hero and the outlaw with a murderous heart, both of whom blame their parents for all the happiness they left on the table -- these two will grow into amazing parents, spring into the mold like Athena out of Zeus's skull.
They will fail. They will fail because Aaron is Claire's son. He knows a lie when he sees one. He says his first word -- "mama" -- to the blonde lady who works the checkout line and his second -- "dada" -- to the blank space where Charlie stands watching.
Aaron is Claire's son. The only one who seems to remember that is Aaron.
IV. Desmond
Within every person, there is the scar of original sin. It's darkness which lingers in the corner of the human heart and shines ugly and grotesque when the opportunity arises.
Charlie is no exception to this curse, and when he's in the outside world, this darkness sets its sights on Desmond.
Desmond is happy. Desmond has his girl, and his girl has a rapidly expanding belly which suggests he'll soon have an addition to his family.
Charlie is dead. Charlie's girl is stuck on an island, confused and disoriented and alone. Her son was ripped from her and placed ocean's apart in the arms of those she barely knew.
Desmond built his family on the destroyed remains of another, on Charlie's family. On Charlie's sacrifice.
It is easy to forgive men like Locke who stood on opposite sides of lines drawn in the sand. But Desmond stood next to him, a friend and a confidante. Desmond lured him to his death with a promise. A promise that his death would bring Claire and Aaron a new life.
He died for Claire. Not for Jack or Kate. Not for Sayid nor Sun. And definitely not for Desmond. For Claire and Aaron, the package. He was responsible for them both.
When Charlie haunts Desmond, he doesn't speak because Desmond's guilt is wide enough to fill the silence. Guilt that still sits in the corner of his eyes, dragging down his face into bitterness.
He haunts him every day for one year. Until Desmond's daughter is born. Until Penny starts to talk in hushed whispers on the phone. Until Desmond stops sleeping, walks through days and nights like a zombie, eyes twitching, waiting for Charlie to turn a corner and make himself seen again.
Finally, the madness breaks him, and he cries out to Charlie's figure, "What do you want from me?"
"Bring him home." It's an anomaly, both vague and crystal clear.
Desmond nods his head, closes his eyes and tastes bitter relief in his tears. He knows this is his true chance at salvation, at peace. That his path so far has been leading to this one point, this moment in time where he does something spectacular, reunites a mother and child and puts the world back on course.
Most of all, though, and putting great accomplishments aside, he will do this because Charlie Pace was his first constant and last broken promise.
And in the grand scheme of things that must mean something.
V. Hurley
Visiting Hurley makes him forget he's dead.
Hurley doesn't spook easily, not anymore. He's now used to having conversations with people he's not really sure are actually there. (They joke about how Hurley's the Hispanic version of Haley Joel Osmand in the Six Sense).
They play pranks to pass the time.
"Are you just here because I can't let go?" Hurley asks quietly as he slides his knight left and knocks off another pawn.
Charlie sees the tired lines in Hurley's face, the anguish of not knowing the line between death and life as it blurs with imaginary friends and imprints of departed souls.
"No," Charlie says, moving his queen forward, "I'm here because you're the only one who hasn't forgotten."
Names like Rose and Locke and Sawyer are taboo in their conversations. They like to keep things upbeat because there is already too much misery in Charlie's soul, and Hurley is well aware of what they left behind. These conversations are like safe havens.
But they know the names are there. That they are more than just names and words scratched on memorials outside of Sydney and Los Angeles. They are flesh and bone and blood. They are smiles and frowns and hugs. They are hope and love. They are faces behind words to outline the sketches. People who shared a home with them both for eighty plus days.
They are both well aware. The other five plus Desmond have found comfort and fleeting happiness in the lies they built on the restless memories of those not dead, but waiting -- waiting for saving.
Eventually, the guilt will wear them all thin. They will all come together, find themselves drawn to Hurley whose shaky warnings are the lifeline through their guilt and fear. Hurley, the moral center of the Oceanic Six's dysfunctional universe.
And that's why Charlie sits with Hurley.
To make sure Hurley never forgets.
I. Claire
It doesn't start with Charlie travelling the world to instill fear, keep watch or chat up Hurley.
No, it starts with a promise.
It starts with Charlie carving statues outside Jacob's cabin. It's called purgatory -- the waiting game. No one really leaves the island (dearly departed included) until everyone leaves the island. Live together so you won't die alone.
Shannon and Boone are the Heathcliff and Cathy of island afterlife, frolicking through jungles and spooking the animals whenever they can. Charlie and Artz play cards. Scott (or was it Steve?) watches and sometimes joins. Ana Lucia and Libby watch the tide roll in, and Mr. Eko builds churches only to knock them down when the sun sets.
Seven have left, Jacob whispers to them. They all share the despair. It just means it will be that much longer until they can all be at peace.
One day later, Boone pulls Charlie aside.
"I saw Claire by the cabin," Boone says, "She's looking for you." He says it as if he knows it's certain, as if he's enlightened like Buddha or maybe Locke. As if Jacob whispered it into his ear himself.
Charlie needs no other explanation. He takes up residence outside the cabin. The still-living survivors, the Roses and Sawyers and Juliets, walk by the sight without a second glance. Only those who need it can ever see it. He likes to watch them, though. See how close they've grown.
He takes the wood scrapings that have fallen from the roof of the cabin and with a knife Locke left he carves rough figurines for Aaron, zoo animals.
"John told me I'd find you here." The soft voice cuts through his usual silent tasks. He places the unfinished polar bear on the ground before turning to face her.
She is a vision of beauty even in her darkest hour. Twigs and clumps of dirt cling to her blonde hair. Her eyes are red and swollen from the tears she shed, and her lip trembles, whether from fear or anguish, he knows not.
But this despair fits the passion in her well. He always felt that she was a person whose moods only showed in tandems. She could only be incredibly miserable or incredibly joyous, with the pendulum incapable of stopping in between.
When he stands up, she shuffles forward, wants to embrace him, but still fears him, because he is a symbol of death. He is gone and she's made her own closure, and this does not need to be any harder than it already is.
She settles, instead, for standing inches from him, absorbing his invisible warmth, but refusing to touch it, lest she be burned. She spills her secrets, tells him the story of how she lost her son, of how she lost two weeks of her life, and of how Locke told her that if anyone could help her it would be him.
It's the wildest of tales, even for this island. It's the type of misery that no one deserves least of all Claire and her son.
"You need to bring him back," she whispers, and it's painful, cuts through his heart and soul and shatters everything.
He closes his eyes and nods. She crosses the divide, slips her fingers into his, amazed that he is corporeal, and squeezes tightly.
This is them. They were not built on grand gestures, but tiny ebbs and steady cadence. He died with love for her on his lips and visions of her flashing before his eyes like guardian angels calling him home. And his love and devotion for her doesn't weaken or waver even after death. The type of love that anchors through a storm.
In the name of Claire, he leaves the island. (Jacob leases him to the outside world in the hope that he will bring this island back together again.) In the name of Aaron, he talks to Hurley and watches the others.
In the name of the love he holds for both of them, he will bring their family back together.
---
He watches from the shadows as Aaron claws his way down from Kate's vice grip and runs full speed into Claire's arms. Claire cries out, tears of joy, and spins the boy in a little circle.
He lets out a breath he didn't know a dead person could hold and feels peace.
Title: The Five People Charlie Pace Visits While Dead and the One Who Comes to Him
Fandom: Lost
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Mainly Charlie & Charlie/Claire (but w/ others...as the title would suggest)
Rating PG
Summary: It doesn't start with Charlie travelling the world to instill fear, keep watch or chat up Hurley. No, it starts with a promise.
Notes: A big thanks to dustyirish2003 for beta'ing this for me.
I. Locke
Locke is the first he sees, and ironically, he's the last person he wants to see.
There were words unsaid between the two men. Blame that hovered over Locke's head for the dark twists that edged their way onto Charlie's path when Locke had accused him of straying. He blamed Locke for all his problems like a child blames a parent when they slip along their way.
When Charlie sees him, Locke is pacing the floor of his worn out tent. He's rubbing his head and cursing, frustrated. There are people lined up outside, ears pressed to the thinning canvas that separates leader from follower, and their shadows fall against him, loom like angry monsters waiting to swallow him whole.
He and Ben moved the island...and then what? There was no instruction manual on what came next. No cheat sheet from Ben or notes from Jacob tucked into his backpack when all was said and done. It was a trap that he fell into. Ben's trap. Charlie knew this before the idea even sprung from Jacob's lips. The benefit of being dead.
Locke now carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and continues to look back, waiting for ghosts to chase him, to tell him he's not meant for this. To correct him, instruct him, lose faith in him and leave him.
Charlie understands now the difficulty for Locke to trust, the wariness that settles under skin and waits for the slightest twitch to rise up and doubt, doubt, doubt!
Faith in this island was all the faith Locke could manage, and this island continued to fail him, dangled his healthy legs above his head and said, 'We can take this back any day now.'
And yet with all that on his plate, Locke still tried to help others. He really did. He didn't have to take the time to try and help Charlie. To help Claire. To protect Aaron. But he had. And Charlie sees that all Locke ever tries to do is to make the best out of what life has given.
For this, Charlie forgives him.
II. Liam
Liam has a new baby girl, two years old with large blonde curls and even bigger blue eyes. They named her Charlotte or Charlie, affectionately, because baby brother Charlie was gone and someone had to take his place. Liam needed a Charlie to take care of, a Charlie to worry about.
Charlie notices how Liam's eyes always seem to linger on Charlotte. She's playing tagalong to her older sister, Megan. She tugs at her shirt and begs to follow her to the other end of the playground. Liam sighs and covers his mouth with his hand as if trying to hide it.
His guilt over his own brother mingles with his relief, tied together inevitably. The stench of it is invisible to everyone but him.
Charlie's thumb sneaks between his fingers and touches the spot where the family ring once lay. He thinks of how it might have looked on little Charlotte's hand.
Deep down he knows Liam would have given it to Megan.
III. Jack&Kate
He refers to them as one person because that's exactly what they've become. They trail after each other, following tracks and looking for clues like they're still on the island. They don't see how one stares at the other too long, with eyes that burn, waiting...just waiting for the snap.
Then there are the other times when they smile wide and look happy (look being the key word). Those are the times when Aaron is watching.
It burns him, watching these two smile and play house with Claire's son, the boy they stole. The anger twists a hole into his stomach, makes him feel nauseous, a feeling he hasn't felt since he was still alive.
They make macaroni frames and stick pictures of their family in the center. They play catch in the back yard. They watch videos, curled up on the couch, Aaron smashed in the middle between their egos.
They will make this work. They will fix this -- this lie, this sham. They chant this creed in their stolen glances and empty sighs. The pill popping fallen hero and the outlaw with a murderous heart, both of whom blame their parents for all the happiness they left on the table -- these two will grow into amazing parents, spring into the mold like Athena out of Zeus's skull.
They will fail. They will fail because Aaron is Claire's son. He knows a lie when he sees one. He says his first word -- "mama" -- to the blonde lady who works the checkout line and his second -- "dada" -- to the blank space where Charlie stands watching.
Aaron is Claire's son. The only one who seems to remember that is Aaron.
IV. Desmond
Within every person, there is the scar of original sin. It's darkness which lingers in the corner of the human heart and shines ugly and grotesque when the opportunity arises.
Charlie is no exception to this curse, and when he's in the outside world, this darkness sets its sights on Desmond.
Desmond is happy. Desmond has his girl, and his girl has a rapidly expanding belly which suggests he'll soon have an addition to his family.
Charlie is dead. Charlie's girl is stuck on an island, confused and disoriented and alone. Her son was ripped from her and placed ocean's apart in the arms of those she barely knew.
Desmond built his family on the destroyed remains of another, on Charlie's family. On Charlie's sacrifice.
It is easy to forgive men like Locke who stood on opposite sides of lines drawn in the sand. But Desmond stood next to him, a friend and a confidante. Desmond lured him to his death with a promise. A promise that his death would bring Claire and Aaron a new life.
He died for Claire. Not for Jack or Kate. Not for Sayid nor Sun. And definitely not for Desmond. For Claire and Aaron, the package. He was responsible for them both.
When Charlie haunts Desmond, he doesn't speak because Desmond's guilt is wide enough to fill the silence. Guilt that still sits in the corner of his eyes, dragging down his face into bitterness.
He haunts him every day for one year. Until Desmond's daughter is born. Until Penny starts to talk in hushed whispers on the phone. Until Desmond stops sleeping, walks through days and nights like a zombie, eyes twitching, waiting for Charlie to turn a corner and make himself seen again.
Finally, the madness breaks him, and he cries out to Charlie's figure, "What do you want from me?"
"Bring him home." It's an anomaly, both vague and crystal clear.
Desmond nods his head, closes his eyes and tastes bitter relief in his tears. He knows this is his true chance at salvation, at peace. That his path so far has been leading to this one point, this moment in time where he does something spectacular, reunites a mother and child and puts the world back on course.
Most of all, though, and putting great accomplishments aside, he will do this because Charlie Pace was his first constant and last broken promise.
And in the grand scheme of things that must mean something.
V. Hurley
Visiting Hurley makes him forget he's dead.
Hurley doesn't spook easily, not anymore. He's now used to having conversations with people he's not really sure are actually there. (They joke about how Hurley's the Hispanic version of Haley Joel Osmand in the Six Sense).
They play pranks to pass the time.
"Are you just here because I can't let go?" Hurley asks quietly as he slides his knight left and knocks off another pawn.
Charlie sees the tired lines in Hurley's face, the anguish of not knowing the line between death and life as it blurs with imaginary friends and imprints of departed souls.
"No," Charlie says, moving his queen forward, "I'm here because you're the only one who hasn't forgotten."
Names like Rose and Locke and Sawyer are taboo in their conversations. They like to keep things upbeat because there is already too much misery in Charlie's soul, and Hurley is well aware of what they left behind. These conversations are like safe havens.
But they know the names are there. That they are more than just names and words scratched on memorials outside of Sydney and Los Angeles. They are flesh and bone and blood. They are smiles and frowns and hugs. They are hope and love. They are faces behind words to outline the sketches. People who shared a home with them both for eighty plus days.
They are both well aware. The other five plus Desmond have found comfort and fleeting happiness in the lies they built on the restless memories of those not dead, but waiting -- waiting for saving.
Eventually, the guilt will wear them all thin. They will all come together, find themselves drawn to Hurley whose shaky warnings are the lifeline through their guilt and fear. Hurley, the moral center of the Oceanic Six's dysfunctional universe.
And that's why Charlie sits with Hurley.
To make sure Hurley never forgets.
I. Claire
It doesn't start with Charlie travelling the world to instill fear, keep watch or chat up Hurley.
No, it starts with a promise.
It starts with Charlie carving statues outside Jacob's cabin. It's called purgatory -- the waiting game. No one really leaves the island (dearly departed included) until everyone leaves the island. Live together so you won't die alone.
Shannon and Boone are the Heathcliff and Cathy of island afterlife, frolicking through jungles and spooking the animals whenever they can. Charlie and Artz play cards. Scott (or was it Steve?) watches and sometimes joins. Ana Lucia and Libby watch the tide roll in, and Mr. Eko builds churches only to knock them down when the sun sets.
Seven have left, Jacob whispers to them. They all share the despair. It just means it will be that much longer until they can all be at peace.
One day later, Boone pulls Charlie aside.
"I saw Claire by the cabin," Boone says, "She's looking for you." He says it as if he knows it's certain, as if he's enlightened like Buddha or maybe Locke. As if Jacob whispered it into his ear himself.
Charlie needs no other explanation. He takes up residence outside the cabin. The still-living survivors, the Roses and Sawyers and Juliets, walk by the sight without a second glance. Only those who need it can ever see it. He likes to watch them, though. See how close they've grown.
He takes the wood scrapings that have fallen from the roof of the cabin and with a knife Locke left he carves rough figurines for Aaron, zoo animals.
"John told me I'd find you here." The soft voice cuts through his usual silent tasks. He places the unfinished polar bear on the ground before turning to face her.
She is a vision of beauty even in her darkest hour. Twigs and clumps of dirt cling to her blonde hair. Her eyes are red and swollen from the tears she shed, and her lip trembles, whether from fear or anguish, he knows not.
But this despair fits the passion in her well. He always felt that she was a person whose moods only showed in tandems. She could only be incredibly miserable or incredibly joyous, with the pendulum incapable of stopping in between.
When he stands up, she shuffles forward, wants to embrace him, but still fears him, because he is a symbol of death. He is gone and she's made her own closure, and this does not need to be any harder than it already is.
She settles, instead, for standing inches from him, absorbing his invisible warmth, but refusing to touch it, lest she be burned. She spills her secrets, tells him the story of how she lost her son, of how she lost two weeks of her life, and of how Locke told her that if anyone could help her it would be him.
It's the wildest of tales, even for this island. It's the type of misery that no one deserves least of all Claire and her son.
"You need to bring him back," she whispers, and it's painful, cuts through his heart and soul and shatters everything.
He closes his eyes and nods. She crosses the divide, slips her fingers into his, amazed that he is corporeal, and squeezes tightly.
This is them. They were not built on grand gestures, but tiny ebbs and steady cadence. He died with love for her on his lips and visions of her flashing before his eyes like guardian angels calling him home. And his love and devotion for her doesn't weaken or waver even after death. The type of love that anchors through a storm.
In the name of Claire, he leaves the island. (Jacob leases him to the outside world in the hope that he will bring this island back together again.) In the name of Aaron, he talks to Hurley and watches the others.
In the name of the love he holds for both of them, he will bring their family back together.
---
He watches from the shadows as Aaron claws his way down from Kate's vice grip and runs full speed into Claire's arms. Claire cries out, tears of joy, and spins the boy in a little circle.
He lets out a breath he didn't know a dead person could hold and feels peace.