Lost fanfic: You, Me, And The Baby; chapter 9
Title: You, Me, And The Baby (9?)
Rating: Just in case, M (16+)
Genre: Angst, humour, romance, H/C
Pairings: Charlie/Ana, Charlie/Claire, Claire/Desmond
Summary: A year after being rescued from the island, Charlie and Ana-Lucia are raising their three month old love child whilst Desmond helps Claire look after a fatherless Aaron. As Charlie struggles with his relationship with Ana, Claire must battle with her feelings towards Desmond, whilst they both try to cover up their long-term love affair that leaves both Ana and Desmond very tired and suspicious…
Charlie knew that caffeine was a good substance for keeping you awake when you were tired. Your nerve cells speed up, hormones are released, and adrenaline is produced.
This is why Charlie assumed people always bought coffee while they were in the waiting room of the emergency room, so that they could be alert while waiting for news about their loved ones. Now he knew, as he watched the machine's hot liquid pour in to the paper cup in front of him, that it served as the perfect distraction from sitting in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, chewing on his nails, thinking anxiously about his baby girl who was possibly fighting for her life right now.
"Coffee?" he offered Ana who was bent forward in her seat, her head in her hands. She shook her head and Charlie placed the drink on the table in front of her before sitting down beside her, his eyes sore and his skin pale. He risked a look at her. She was incredibly hard to read; she wouldn't show her face, a few loose strands from her pony tail hiding what wasn't covered by her hands. It would occur to Charlie later that all of the progress he had made with her over the months would yet again be destroyed. She wouldn't look at him, wouldn't talk to him. She hadn't spoken a word since they got here.
Charlie considered leaving to get another cup of coffee when he saw a blonde figure run out in to the hall and cry his name.
"Claire!" he exclaimed, and ran in to her embrace. He buried his face in to her soft blonde curls, holding her so tightly she could scarcely breathe. Being in her embrace for a few moments was surely more comforting than any amount of therapy sessions could ever be. Claire held him close and gently ran her hand down his neck.
"Are you okay? What happened? Where's Paige?"
He couldn't stop his features from wrinkling up or his eyes threatening to release tears. "I..I couldn't get her to stop crying," he stammered, "I must have changed her four times, she wouldn't eat, and then she kept being sick. I couldn't help her, I…just…" a tear fell and he sniffed, the image of Paige so weak and sick playing through his mind.
Claire herself felt like crying but she resisted the urge to break in to sobs with him and instead whispered comforting little "shh" noises in his ear and softly moved her hands around in circles on his back. She pulled away after a moment and wiped the tear away with her thumb.
"Have you heard anything yet?"
He shook his head. "The doctor's with her now. God, Claire. If something's happened to her I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself."
"Forgive yourself? Charlie, this isn't your fault."
"How can you be so sure? What if it was something I should have noticed ages ago but didn't because I was too wrapped up with myself?"
She took hold of his shoulders. "Listen to me, Charlie. You're a great father. A wonderful one, in fact. I know this. Don't blame yourself. Please."
He smiled sadly at her and tried to return his breathing to a normal pace. It was at that moment he noticed Desmond Hume rush in and head quickly towards them. Charlie's smile dropped to a surprised frown. He swiped at the moisture on his face.
Desmond looked concerned as he patted Charlie comfortingly on the arm. "I heard what happened, mate. Is she alright?"
Charlie forced a grateful smile before glancing down and sighing. "I really don't know."
"How are you and Ana holding up?" he asked, looking at the woman over his shoulder who was still very much in the same position Charlie had left her in.
"Not brilliant."
Desmond glanced at Claire who looked just as concerned as he did. He took in a deep breath before addressing Charlie again. "Look, brother, I know we've had our differences but I am truly sorry. If there's anything you need, just let us know, yeah?"
Charlie could never suppress the jealousy and bitterness he felt for Desmond but at a time like this, he knew he could use as many friends as possible. He nodded and smiled at him, and for a moment it felt just like old times. "Thanks, Des. That means a lot."
A new voice interrupted them. "Mr. Pace?"
He spun around and saw the doctor looking at him. Claire and Desmond stood together anxiously behind him. "What's happened? Is she alright?"
"She's fine. I need to talk to you and Miss Cortez about a few things before she's able to go home."
"But she's going to be alright, isn't she? She can come home with us today?"
"I'll discuss that with you both now, if you'd just come with me."
He nodded vigorously, turning to look at Claire who smiled at him supportively and Desmond who patted him on the arm again, before following the doctor. He called after Ana who, after ages of hiding herself from the world, raised her head and then joined them.
Outside, Desmond put his arm around Claire and stood with her in silence. She rested her head against his shoulder and hoped that everything would be alright. She still remembered how terrified she was when Aaron was sick. She would have done anything to take away his suffering.
The couple didn't discuss the previous events of the night, nor did they question where their relationship was headed because of it. They just sat and waited, all the bitterness and heartbreak that occurred prior to Charlie's call erased from their minds. At least for now.
It felt like hours later when Charlie and Ana-Lucia came out, their faces pale and tired. Ana muttered something about calling her mother and then disappeared down the corridor. Charlie collapsed in a seat next to Claire and rubbed his forehead with his hand tiredly. Desmond offered to get him some more coffee and left the two alone together.
"What did they say?" asked Claire with concern.
Charlie didn't look at her, his eyes distant and staring off in to space as if he were still processing the information. "Uh," he rubbed his sore eyes. "They've taken her to Intensive Care. She's being treated for Diabetic Ketoacidosis." He slipped up a little on the last word as the surreal events of the past couple of hours swelled in his exhausted mind.
Her blue eyes widened. "Diabetes? But she's so young!"
"It's more common in children…but babies…" he trailed off there, hardly blinking.
"Well, how did this happen? Is she going to be alright?"
"The doctor said there's nothing you can do to prevent it, the disease. It just happens." He sighed shakily. "They're doing more tests on her now. And then they have to go through all this…diabetes information with us."
Claire grabbed on to his hand and squeezed it tightly. "Oh, Charlie."
His lower lip trembled very slightly. "She's going to have to have injections all her life…have regular doctor visits…and I have to design a special diet for her so she gets enough insulin." He leant forward and rested his head in his hands. "Is this some kind of punishment? I didn't want this for her, I didn't want this at all!"
"No one is punishing you!" she said, leaning closer and putting an arm around him. "Everything is going to be fine, Charlie. I know you can get through this. And I'll be right here to help you, I promise."
He looked at her then, teary-eyed. "I'm scared, Claire."
She swallowed back her own tears. "I know. Come here." she cuddled him tightly and didn't want to let go until he stopped crying; until she was able to heal the wounds and give him enough strength to get by. She wished she could. "She's going to be fine," she whispered, "Everything is going to be just fine."
"No, mom. I don't want you to come down here. It's fine," said Ana in to the phone. "Thanks. I gotta go, I probably shouldn't be using this here. Bye."
After hanging up, she leant against the wall and pressed the phone to her lips. The nightmare continued. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to cry, or shout, or just leave and never come back. Whatever she did, she didn't want to be around Charlie right now.
She thought about being alone so that she could cry like a mother usually would when she finds out her child is sick. Cry all her pain and weakness away as she seemed to be doing more recently. She thought she should cry now, in public, but no matter how hard she tried, she didn't feel like it.
She felt normal.
She heard a cough behind her and turned to see Desmond Hume looking at her with a sympathetic frown. She had never really talked to him much, especially since the baby was born. All she knew was Charlie's jealous rants about him and they bored her to the point that Ana was sick of hearing about him, so she just stared at him and waited.
"I just wanted you to know," he said with polite concern, "that I'm sorry for what you're going through"
"Thanks," she replied, a frown still on her lips.
"What did the doctor say?"
With a quick sigh, she turned around to face him properly. "They said it's type one diabetes."
His eyebrows knitted together and he slowly shook his head. "That's awful, I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well, it's not your fault."
There was silence for a beat as Desmond glanced to the floor for an awkward moment. "I was just on my way to get some coffee," he told her, glancing up, "do you want to join me?"
She was surprised at the invitation, but even more surprised that she felt willing to accept. "Sure," she said. "Thanks."
They sat together in the hospital cafeteria, sipping at their hot drinks and talking. Ana was surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. Maybe it was simply because she knew she didn't have to see him again.
"You know," she said, swallowing, "you're not as annoying as Charlie makes you out to be."
Desmond chuckled. "Thanks. I think." She smirked at him. "So, how much sleep have you gotten?"
"None."
"You must be exhausted."
She sighed. "I am. But I'm used to it."
He gave a little half-smile and watched her carefully as she glanced down in to the contents of her coffee cup.
"You don't give yourself enough credit, you know," he said.
"Excuse me?"
"It must be hard. With Charlie and the baby, I mean…"
She frowned. "Well, it's going to get much harder now."
"I'm just saying that what you're doing…I admire it. It takes courage to face your problems and responsibilities like that."
"No offence, but what would you know about my problems?"
"I meant it as a compliment…sorry."
She stared at him, his brown eyes looking pleasantly in to hers. There was quiet for a moment as she contemplated whether or not to say what she was thinking of next. "He's been seeing Claire behind my back," she said bluntly, that same frown across her face.
"I know," he said.
She watched the liquid in her coffee cup swirl as she stirred it round and round in circles. "You love her, don't you?"
He laughed very slightly. "What makes you say that?"
"The way you look at her, the way Charlie talks about you two. He's right, isn't he? There's something going on between you two and that's why he's down the club drinking every other night." She watched his serious expression. "And besides, a guy doesn't drop everything to move in with a pregnant mom and look after her kid if he isn't interested in her."
He was silent a beat before forcing a false smile and giving a little shrug. "Maybe you're right."
She raised her cup to her lips. "It's the effect she has on guys," she muttered before taking a sip.
It seemed like eternity had passed when the rest of the tests were finished and Charlie was allowed to see Paige. He had no idea where Ana was and so asked Claire to come with him, his heartbeat thumping hard and a nauseating feeling building up in the pit of his stomach.
Other than the many terrifying events that happened on that island and perhaps the time he thought Liam had overdosed on heroin many years back, Charlie surmised that this was probably the most scared he had ever felt. He slowly made his way towards a transparent incubator and couldn't breathe until he saw the tiny pink body of his daughter lying weakly inside, tubes sticking out from her and plasters over the sore areas where they had taken her blood.
The doctor confirmed that the ketoacidosis had occurred due to failure of identifying the type one diabetes. He wasn't sure how or why he would have noticed it earlier, but he still blamed himself. The doctor had added that with the right help, she would be just fine and could be taken home soon. They needed to discuss some important things about the disease, organise a meal plan with a nutritionist, and obtain the special equipment that they would need to make sure she got regular insulin doses.
His head was swimming. How were they going to afford all this? Will she ever be happy living this way? Will she be in pain? Where was Ana-Lucia? How did this happen? Why did this happen?
He felt Claire's soft hand clasp around his as they stood above the baby, watching. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her fragile frame. This wasn't right.
Claire found it so hard to see Paige in such an awful state that she had to swallow back her tears. No child should have to suffer like this, and she knew it would be one long struggle for them all from here onwards. She tightened her hold on Charlie's hand and realised she had never asked him about the origin of the child's name.
"My mum liked the name Paige," he answered stiffly, hardly blinking. "It means 'young helper'".
She looked at him, watched his body hang loose and still, as if she were admiring a statue forever posed in the same defeated position. "One day," she said, "Paige should meet Aaron."
His lips formed a smile, though his eyes remained sad and distant. "I'd like that," he replied.
"Well, what about you and Charlie?" Desmond asked Ana sceptically.
She was sat back in her chair now, barely listening. "What about him?"
"You have a baby together…you live together. Do you have any feelings for him?"
She sniggered a little bit. "I used to hate him."
"Oh really? You could have fooled me," he said with irony.
"You don't have to tell me how complicated our situation is," she chastised before breathing a sigh and looking away from his gaze. "But no, I don't feel anything now." She swallowed. "I feel…nothing."
Desmond was surprised to see a side of Ana he wasn't familiar with. He even found himself feeling sorry for her. She glanced down a moment before focusing her gaze on the cafeteria windows. The sun was rising outside and she could see the orange and red painted across the sky. Suddenly she had the urge to be on the other side of these walls, out there in the sunrise rather than in the bright artificial light of the hospital.
Her heart jumped when Charlie Pace popped out of nowhere, a pained and angry look on his face. "Where the hell have you been?"
She stared right through him. "Right here. With Desmond."
Charlie shot Des the briefest of glares before settling on Ana-Lucia again. "You do realise your sick daughter is lying in a hospital room with tubes coming out of her? Why weren't you there for her? Do you even care?"
Claire was behind him and put a hand on his shoulder to calm him. "Charlie -"
"No!" he shook her off, nose wrinkled. "Why don't you care?" he demanded. "Are you even trying?"
Ana didn't move from her seat. She simply looked at him, and frowned, like a mischievous schoolgirl intent on annoying her teacher.
Desmond got to his feet awkwardly. "I think Claire and I should get back and leave you to it. I hope Paige will be alright." He walked over to Claire who smiled sadly and squeezed Charlie's shoulder, insisting she'd talk to him later. Charlie watched them go, noticing the closeness of which they walked and the suggestiveness of their body language as Des placed his hand on the small of Claire's back, leading her towards the exit. But he couldn't worry about that now. He sat in the chair opposite Ana-Lucia and watched her, his brows furrowed and his lip curled.
"You can't even pretend, can you?" he said through pink and narrowed eyes. Ana-Lucia ignored him. "Look at me." He leant forwards. "What is wrong with you?"
She looked at him: blue tearful eyes, dirty blonde hair, five o'clock shadow forming around his mouth. "What do you want from me?"
He dropped his head and ran a hand through his hair, wanting to rest his head on the table and just fall in to unconsciousness without having to worry about the emotionless Ana-Lucia sitting opposite him or his sick child down the hall. "You know what? I'm through with being strong for the both of us. I can't do it anymore, I can't. If you want to feel sorry for yourself all the time, then fine. I can't help you. Is that what you wanted to hear? You're beyond help," he told her fiercely, glaring at her now.
Frowning, she sat in silence as he began to stand up. But part of her wanted to say something to him, to grab hold of him and shake him as hard as she could, to tell him he had no idea what she was feeling. She thought of her talk with Desmond and wondered why it had been so easy to talk to him and not the father of her only child. She said nothing and watched him stand, pushing his chair back and storming off like a two-year-old having a tantrum. But she knew that he was just being the caring, considerate father figure he was, and it seemed that she was destined to always be the emotionless bitch who apparently couldn't care less .
As soon as Claire collected Aaron from Mrs Evans' house, she gave the baby the biggest cuddle she could manage. She had never been so relieved that he was healthy and happy. She had a funny feeling in her tummy whenever she thought of Paige and her illness and hoped desperately that she would have the strength to get through it. She had always been a tiny little thing, and she seemed ever so weak, but if she was anything like her father, Claire knew she'd find that inner strength that would help her survive. They both would, she knew it.
Desmond opened the door for her as she carried the little boy in her arms. He noticed the unease on her face and asked her if she was okay.
"Yes, I'm okay. I'm not the one at the hospital right now," she said, holding Aaron closer to her. He squirmed in her arms and grabbed at her hair, calling her "mummy" and muttering "No! No!" when she refused to put him down.
"I'm sure they'll be fine, Claire. It's their problem. There's nothing you can do."
"I can be there for them," she suggested, finally putting the boy down and watching him crawl towards his toy cars.
"Of course you can," he forced a smile. "But keep in mind, they need to be together. As a family."
She looked at him sadly, her eyes twinkling in the morning light. A family. Right.
Walking over to her, he placed a hand on both of her shoulders. "They'll be fine," he smiled reassuringly. "And I was kind of hoping we'd be able to talk about…us now."
"Us?"
His eyebrows furrowed and he took a confused step forwards. "Claire, we slept together last night," he said in a hushed voice. "I thought that meant something."
She closed her eyes and nodded slowly. "Right. I know. It did. It does!" she insisted.
"It meant a lot to me," he told her. "You know how I feel about you. And I thought you felt the same."
"I do," she said quickly. "It's just…so much has happened. I need a minute to process it all."
He nodded understandingly, though a look of disappointment flashed on his face. "Okay. I understand." He offered a sad smile and began to turn round.
"Des," she called, and locked eyes with his as he turned to face her. "It did mean something to me. Really. It was perfect."
He smiled and approached her, kissing her briefly on the lips. "I'll make you breakfast." She forced a smile back as he placed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and then left to head for the kitchen. She didn't feel like telling him that she wasn't hungry, and actually felt a little bit sick.
She couldn't help thinking of Charlie as she observed little Aaron pull himself up and waddle over to the armchair with a miniature red bus in the one hand, the soft cuddly toy polar bear in the other. Perfect? she thought unhappily. Why did she feel like her life couldn't be further from it?
The door was left open as Charlie burst in and started to search the flat for Paige's things, ready to collect them all in a carrier bag. There was her dummy, and her stuffed animals, and her favourite blanket, and the stories Charlie read her despite her not being able to understand them yet…
"You won't need all that," Ana said dejectedly. "They only said bring a few things."
"It's better to be prepared," Charlie told her sternly without looking up from his search.
"Are you going to stay there all night?" she asked.
"If I can then yes. You stay here if you want."
He found the dummy that had succeeded in silencing Paige not long before and he threw it in the bag. It was then that he felt a swirling in his gut and his head became very light and dizzy. He stumbled slightly and steadied himself by leaning against the arm of the sofa.
"Okay?" Ana asked him, walking over to him.
"Yeah," he breathed, waving her away. "I'm just tired that's all."
"You need to take five minutes."
"I'm fine."
"Have some water."
She poured him a glass and gave it to him, and he drank it all in one gulp. "Thanks."
"You should sit down," she said, perching on the arm of the sofa.
"I can't sit down. I have to look for her things."
"She doesn't need them. Just sit down and shut up for a minute," she snapped.
"How can you be so calm about this?" he questioned vehemently.
"Because I can," she mumbled, looking to the ceiling.
Looking at her then made his fingers twitch with aggravation; her uncaring attitude, her relaxed posture, her inability to comprehend the severity of the situation. Right then he wanted her to leave, or for him to leave. Just as long as he didn't have to see how little he cared for their child.
"You know, I thought you had changed," he snarled. "All those months we've spent together, the talks we've had. I thought there was some civilised part of you that had decided to let all this go; all this hate and anger. But no, the idea of having a kid with me is so bloody devastating you couldn't care for her at all. It's not normal!" He shook his head at her and turned away.
That was it.
Grabbing his wrist and squeezing hard, she forced him to come to a sudden halt. Stunned, he turned his attention back to her as she glared in to his tired and pale features.
"Look, you think you know how I feel, but you can't possibly understand. I don't even understand it. You want to know why it seems like I don't care? Well, I don't know. I just…feel like I can't live through every day like this. I don't want to get up in the mornings, I don't want to see anyone, talk to anyone. I don't want to DO anything. It's too hard. There's nothing to be happy about, nothing to look forward to. Just an endless black hole of nothingness. And I look at you, and you're different." She paused for breath, her hand still to tight around his wrist he feared it may drop off. "You don't know how bad I feel just looking at you, and her. You're both so incredibly different and I don't understand it. I don't understand why I can't be like that with her, why I can't just be her mother. Someone who loves her and wants to take care of her. All of this, it just makes me angry and miserable. And when I'm not feeling angry or miserable, I don't feel anything at all. It's not who I am, Charlie. I'm not like you. It's not the life I was ever supposed to lead. So maybe you're right. Maybe you can't help me, maybe no one can. But you can't expect me to change over night because something like this happens. You can hate me, and you can think I'm an awful mother and a terrible person and a cold, heartless bitch who doesn't give a damn about anyone but herself, but don't for a second make the mistake in believing that you think any worse about me than I think about myself." She threw his hand away, having finished a speech so powerful, even she was surprised.
The building may as well have collapsed around him. Now Charlie felt like the schoolboy, chastised by his teacher. He wasn't sure what to think, nevermind forming a response, so he stood there in silence a while and they both avoided the other's gaze awkwardly until he decided to attempt a reply.
"I don't…hate you," he began, his voice quiet. "And I don't think you're a bad mother, or a terrible person. How can I think those things of you?" he asked. "You're the mother of my child."
"Stop it," she muttered.
He studied her: those indifferent eyes of hers that he was so used to seeing suddenly seemed unbearably sad. Unsure of what to say, he found himself moving closer to her. Then, very cautiously, with one arm he began to pull her towards him in an embrace. He expected her to pull away or shove him back, but she just stood there, rooted to the floor. It was clear to him then as his cheek came in to contact with the warmth of her curls, that this was the closet he had probably been to her without a selfish ulterior motive. It occurred to him that perhaps she wasn't used to this kind of closeness, that she may not know how to be close to a person without romantic involvement. The idea saddened him before he realised that, before this, he had almost forgotten how himself.
"Thank you," he said gently in to her ear, "for telling me how you feel. Now perhaps we can work on it." She didn't have the energy to reply with a sarcastic comment, or push him away when he wrapped an arm around her, or slap his hand away when he placed it on her cheek and smiled tiredly at her. But something felt missing when he pulled away from that awkward embrace. That was enough to stun her in to silence for a fair while. She thought maybe he felt it too when the phone's ring interrupted them and their hearts jumped.
"Hello?" He sounded groggy as he answered it, and Ana noticed how his facial expression changed when he heard who it was on the other line. "Yeah, I'm here." He turned around and wandered in to the kitchen area. "No, it's okay. We don't need anything. She's fine. Thanks. I'm going to go over there again in a bit. Yeah." He paused a beat. "What?" Silence. "Claire, please. Is this just because of Paige? She's fine. I'm fine. Where is this coming from?" He turned slightly to hide his face from Ana. "Aaron? What about Aaron?" Ana approached curiously from the corner, seeing Charlie's back hunched over slightly in a failed attempt to hide himself, and the phone pressed to his ear. "You don't think I consider the future? Then…fine. Yeah. I understand. It's okay. Yeah. I'll see you."
Charlie would always remember that day as not only the day his daughter was diagnosed with type one diabetes, but also the day that Claire told him she just wanted to be his friend, that what happened to Paige was a sign that they should be thinking of their families and their children's future. That she would always love him, and always be his closest friend, but that being lovers was never going to work.
It didn't take him long to figure out that Desmond Hume must be behind this, stealing her heart and capturing her affections while Charlie was living a totally different life, struggling to control his emotions at the same time as trying to raise a baby. Even through the bitterness and loss he felt, he couldn't waste time wallowing in self-pity over it. He had to concentrate on Paige. She was his priority at the moment.
"Who was that?" Ana asked as Charlie slowly turned around, surprised to see her so close.
"You know who it was. I don't want to talk about it." He walked passed her, a look of frustration on his face.
"You don't need her, you know," she called after him.
"Yeah? Who else have I got?" he questioned her. "Not her, not Des. And you hate me."
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "I don't hate you," she repeated his words from earlier, and he repeated hers.
"Stop it."
She shrugged. "I used to."
"I can't do this right now, okay?" He stressed, a hand reaching for his burning forehead. She thought his reaction was strange. Did he not believe her? Or did he simply not care anymore? "I'm going back to the hospital. You can come with me or stay here." He grabbed the bag and hurried towards the door where he collided in to Ana, her body tall and stiff in front of him and acting as a barrier, preventing him from passing.
"Don't leave."
He barely looked up, his tongue pushing against the inside of his teeth angrily. "Please get out of my way. One of us has to be there for her." He caught her eye, and this time saw some feeling in them. She loosened up a little and he pushed past her, reaching for the door. He paused there for a moment and turned to look at her, watching her head hang low and her hair fall loosely down her back. "I wish you'd come with me," he told her, although he knew she wouldn't. Not yet, and so with one last lingering glance, he stepped out of the door and left.
Ana-Lucia stared vacantly around the empty flat and frowned. No crying baby, no annoying ex-rockstar trying to counsel her, no persistent reminders that she was an absolute failure. She was just alone.
But things were much too quiet now.
TBC
A/N: Thanks to all still reading, it does mean a lot! Still writing this, just taking a while to update. About the diabetes plot; I'm sorry if I got any facts/info wrong about it. I didn't know a lot about it before writing this so I did a lot of research and tried to make it work, lol. I hope it made sense here.