Three's a crowd - Charlie/Claire/Locke - R
Summary: In the aftermath of The 23rd Psalm, three lives are irrevocably altered forever.
Rating: R
Pairing: Charlie/Claire/Locke, Claire/Sayid friendship
Warnings: dark, angsty, character deaths, major spoilers up to The 23rd Psalm
Note: Hopefully nobody is offended and thinks that I'm coping lunar_temptress in anyway. I started writing this before I read her entry, after I watched The 23rd Psalm in fact. We just happen to have the same interests, heh.
“Charlie, I don’t want you sleeping anywhere near us, okay?”
Her words still resonated in her mind and she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. After everything he’d done to help her and Aaron, the first time he goes wrong she kicks him to the gutter. But then Claire would look at her little baby boy and remember why she did it. To protect him. He was her priority, not some stupid junkie, and as long as she remembered that the little niggling of guilt would stay firmly tucked in the back of her mind.
“Just go.”
She winced as she remembered the hurt look in his eyes, the way his lips turned down in a pout, and her fist clenched around the cradle’s wood unintentionally. She exhaled deeply and glanced down at her sleeping son, who was cooing softly.
“Claire.”
She startled and was surprised to see John lingering in the opening of her tent. As if on cue, a warmth settled in her belly and her lips turned up in a soft smile.
“Hi,” she fumbled, offering John a spot beside her, which he took gratefully. Silence settled for several long moments before John opened his backpack and pulled out his water bottle, offering Claire a sip which she politely declined. “Listen, not to sound rude, but is there something you wanted?”
John chuckled and took a long swig of water before placing the bottle back in his bag. He watched Claire silently for another moment as she fidgeted with the hem of her blue shirt.
“I heard you kicked Charlie out,” he explained. Claire heaved a sigh and brushed her fingertips over the wood of Aaron’s cradle.
“Look, if he sent you here to get me to take him back, you can just forget it,” Claire snapped, her defences rising. John chuckled again, throwing Claire off. She faltered, staring blankly at the older man.
“Oh, far from it Claire. I understand what you did and why you did it, you need to put your son’s best interests first and foremost and having Charlie near that baby is not the best thing at this time,” John explained, causing the warm feeling in Claire’s belly to form into life sized butterflies.
“Oh,” she replied dumbly, now rocking the cradle nervously, which caused Aaron to awaken with a loud cry. Claire scooped him up and held him to her chest, murmuring in his ear and stroking his head.
When he was sufficiently settled, Claire turned back to John and fixed him a curious stare.
“So you came across the camp to tell me you understand?” she asked amusedly, her smile turning impish. John smiled back and shook his head.
“I came to offer my assistance. I think we both know that you and Aaron are not safe here,” John answered, suddenly becoming serious. Claire swallowed heavily and glanced down at her son worriedly, when John suddenly reached across to slip a loose strand of Claire’s hair behind her ear.
“What do you suggest?” she asked tensely, her body stiffening under John’s touch. She could hear her heart thud in her chest and she was sure she looked like a fool reacting like this, but John’s expression didn’t show he’d noticed any change in Claire’s behaviour.
“Perhaps, it’d be best if I moved beside your tent,” John proposed boldly, his hand now moving to cup Claire’s face. She barely even realised she was nodding her agreement, and then she was vocally agreeing and John was saying something, then he was gone.
Claire sighed and wondered exactly what she’d just agreed to.
--
“For all I know, Charlie could be some religious freak.”
“Well I seriously doubt that.”
“Then why does he carry around a Virgin Mary statue?”
Sometimes she wished she’d never found out about the heroin. In fact, if she had her way, she’d go all the way back to that night in the caves when she found the statue in his bag and stop herself from finding it. Things with Charlie may not have been perfect, but they were simple and easy. With Charlie, she never had to worry about warm, fuzzy butterflies or sleepless nights because she knew he was only several metres away. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if she’d considered Charlie a real friend. If she was realistic with herself, Charlie had really just been a person of convenience. He had been there constantly since the night she’d escaped Ethan, always hovering and eager to please, and who was she to deny extra help? The only other people who really took interest with her after she ‘returned’ were Shannon and John, and since the former was often busy with Sayid before her death and the latter was busy with the hatch, that’d only left Charlie to rely on.
“Claire.”
As she had the other day when John approached her, she startled and turned around. But instead of a loving warmth settling in her belly, she only felt pity and anger.
“What Charlie?” she asked exasperatedly. Charlie stood stoutly in the opening of her tent, as John had, but where John was confident and cheerful, Charlie was insecure and morose. He scuffed his feet and fidgeted with himself.
“Look, Claire, can we talk?” Charlie muttered glumly, biting his lip and glancing around the neighbouring tents nervously, as if expecting something to happen.
Claire sighed, “I really have nothing to say to you right now Charlie. I just can’t deal with this, any of this, at the moment, okay?”
When Charlie’s eyes glazed over in rage and his features twisted dangerously, Claire was immensely grateful Sun and Jin had offered to mind Aaron for her that morning.
“What the fuck is your problem Claire? I didn’t do anything wrong!” Charlie demanded.
Any pity or guilt that Claire had felt for the man looming over her was abruptly obliviated in that instant. She pushed herself to her feet swiftly and in a moment of raw rage, she right hooked him with a ferocity unlike herself.
With a grunt, Charlie stumbled back, not falling but tripping over himself clumsily.
“Bitch!” he hissed, and for a second Claire thought he might hit her back, but then Sayid was there, right behind Charlie, a strange look in his eye.
“What is going on here?” he inquired, glancing between the two. Claire glared harshly at Charlie, trying desperately to get a tamper on her rage.
“Charlie was just leaving,” she responded coolly after a few long seconds, turning her back on both men entirely. After a minute, she heard some mild cursing as Charlie left the tent in a rage.
Claire sighed with relief and silently composed herself, fiddling with the laundry she had piled up on the sandy floor.
“What was that about?” Sayid repeated, causing Claire to look back at him rigidly.
“Charlie just has some very big issues,” she replied stiffly, avoiding eye contact with the Iraqi soldier.
“Apparently,” he agreed sardonically. Claire grimaced at his tone. “If he comes round here again like that, I expect you to come straight to myself or Locke, do you understand?”
Now Claire met his eyes and was silently surprised at the fierce tenderness in them.
“Yes, of course.”
--
“You know it’s like we’re playing mum and dad to this baby, yet I don’t remember marrying him.”
Claire wondered if perhaps she’d been too hard on Charlie when she’d said that to John. Maybe if she could take back all her harsh words, Charlie would take back the statues and things would be alright.
She changed her mind when John kissed her that night.
Kissing John was unlike any kiss she’d ever gotten from a man before. There was Max in sixth grade, who was sloppy and wet and turned her right off boys right up until ninth grade. Then there was Dean in tenth, who she’d dated for that whole year until she dropped out of high school with only her school certificate to her name. Kissing him had been like kissing tar, it was rare for him to not have cigarette breathe. She hadn’t really dated anyone again until Thomas, who was all sweetness, until he was bored of her of course.
Kissing John was passionate and fiery and Claire think she finally understood love in that moment.
It was the sort of kiss she’d gossip to her girlfriends about, if she had girlfriends. Shannon had been the closest thing she’d come to a best friend on the island, and she was dead now. Claire shuddered at that thought, and brushed Aaron’s forehead tenderly.
The last of the sun’s rays settled beyond the horizon and around her people started gathering around the fires for dinner. Claire got to her feet and started pacing worriedly. Since their first night together after Claire kicked Charlie out of the tent, they’d had an unspoken agreement that Locke would be at the tent every night at sunset. On the rare occasion something came up that would keep him away after sunset, or even the whole night, he always came and told her first, or had Sayid come tell her and sit with her until he returned. The sun was completely set and he hadn’t turned up, and Sayid, who’d past several minutes before, hadn’t seen him either.
Deciding to go search for him, Claire lifted Aaron’s cradle and wandered a few tents down to where Sayid was going through what appeared to be some photos. He glanced up as she approached and smiled wanly at her.
“Claire,” Sayid acknowledged, “hello, what can I do for you tonight?” he asked warmly, collecting the photos up in one swift scoop and placing them back in his suitcase. Claire shifted and cringed nervously at her friend.
“Uh, I was wondering if you could mind Aaron for me for awhile,” Claire explained. Sayid frowned slightly and motioned for Claire to place Aaron down beside him, which she did gratefully.
“Locke still hasn’t come back?” the Iraqi man asked suspiciously. Claire shook her head, a soft noise of worry escaping her lips. Sayid clambered to his feet and disappeared into his tent for a few moments. When he came back out, he had a gun clenched in his hand. “I shouldn’t even let you go, but I’m hoping it is nothing. He was supposed to have hatch duty until sunset, so check there, and if he is not there, come straight back and I will go look for him myself.” Claire stared down at the gun he was offering her.
“I...you think he might be in danger?” Claire asked worriedly. Sayid sighed loudly, and pushed the gun into her hand.
“It is just a precaution. I want you back here in half an hour, if you’re not back I’ll come looking for you,” he said, pressing a kiss against her hand which was now closed around the gun. Claire quivered with fright and hurried off towards the hatch, her heart thrumming forebodingly in her chest.
The trek to the hatch seemed to take a lifetime. Her insides were clenching with anxiety, like she knew there was something wrong and she couldn’t do anything about it.
“Hold on,” she whispered to herself as she reached the hatch door and pushed it open with a hard heave.
It was silent inside the hatch, only the faint beeping of the computer breaking it. She’d only been down here once, with Sayid and Shannon before Shannon’s death. It felt slightly morbid to be back here, a gun clenched in her hand, but she shook off that thought. She started down the corridor towards the main lab, glancing around for any sign of John.
It was when she saw Jack slumped over outside the main lab, out cold, that she realised something was very, very wrong.
“Jack!” she hissed, hurrying over and squatting beside him. She shook him, but he didn’t rouse at all. It wasn’t until her free hand slid behind his head and felt the warm, sticky blood, that she knew someone had definitely knocked him out. This was no accident. She got to her feet and glanced around, knowing she couldn’t help him like this. She tucked Sayid’s gun in her pants and walked into the main lab.
“About time.”
Claire glanced over at the darkened corner and instantly recognised Charlie and Locke. Charlie had somehow gotten Locke tied and gagged and had him propped against the wall.
“Oh god,” she gasped, moving forward but when Charlie pointed a gun straight at Claire, she stopped in her tracks.
“God isn’t going to help you now,” he sneered. In a quick movement, keeping his gun trained on Claire, he reached down and released Locke’s gag so he could talk.
“Claire, get out of here!” Locke shouted at her, but when Charlie started sniggering and slapped Locke over the head with the butt of his gun, he stopped talking.
“Shut it old man, I’m talking,” Charlie growled. Claire felt bile rise in her throat as she watched a line of blood trickle down John’s head.
“Charlie,” she choked out, “why? Why are you doing this?” Charlie scoffed at her.
“Charlie, why are you doing this?” he mocked in a high pitched voice. Claire shuddered violently as Charlie stepped towards her and pushed the barrel of the gun against her throat. “I’m doing this, you stupid slut, because you betrayed me.”
Hysterical laughter bubbled in Claire’s throat and the start of tears welled in her eyes.
“How? How did I betray you?” Claire whimpered as Charlie’s hand wrapped tantalisingly around her neck. She could faintly hear John shouting at Charlie to leave her alone in the background, but at that moment it was just her, Charlie, and his gun. She didn’t even remember her own gun, although she later doubted it would’ve done her much good at that time.
“How do you think you fucking whore!” Charlie screamed in her ear, causing her to jump in terror. “You shacked up with this old prat the moment you could. Does he fuck you good Claire? Does he love you like I do?” Charlie’s hand was now caressing her neck, causing goosebumps to appear.
Claire whimpered in reply.
“Answer me!” he bellowed, now red in the face and sweating repulsively. Claire was now crying softly and she shook her head desperately.
“No, no we’ve never,” she answered. Charlie leered at John as he let go of his grip on Claire, causing her to fall to the cold, hard floor.
“What, couldn’t get it up John?” Charlie scorned, pushing his gun against John’s temple.
“Shut up,” Claire whispered. Charlie wheeled back around to look at her darkly.
“No, you shut up Claire,” he retorted. He pulled John to his feet, his gun pressed into John’s back. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to tell good old Locke here that everything with him was a huge misunderstanding and that you love me, got it?” Claire swallowed and glanced at John in fear.
“John,” she whispered inaudibly. Her eyes pleaded with him to understand, and it seemed she hesitated just too long for Charlie, because she heard his gun cock menacingly. “Wait, please, Charlie, I love you!”
Charlie snarled ruthlessly at her.
“Too late Claire, it’s over.”
Then, there was a bang. Claire whimpered as she watched John choke and whimper, as blood bubbled out of his mouth. With a resounding thud, he hit the floor and blood pooled around him. Claire shouted out his name as Charlie stared blankly down at the dying body of the older man.
She didn’t even notice pulling out her gun and shooting until Charlie was face down on the ground beside John.
With a resounding sob, Claire fell to the ground beside them, and pulled John into her arms. He was still there, but it was faint, and when her hand splayed across his chest, she could feel his fading heartbeat under her fingers.
“I’m so sorry,” she cried, her tears now so heavy that they were splashing on his own cheeks and leaving trail marks where his own should be.
“Love...you,” John gasped, and then his eyes were closed and he was fading away.
By the time Sayid, Sawyer and Ana rushed in, it was too late. All three corpses were already cold.