{ Charlie/Claire; The Most Secret Entries In A Diary }
Title; The Most Secret Entries In A Diary
Pairing; Charlie/Claire
Rating; G
Words; 938
Disclaimer; I do not own them, I just like playing with them.
A/N; Written for hopelessfangirl, who requested Charlie/Claire. Set in S1, when Claire lost her memory.
Day #...
--
She knows she used to write the number of the days they were stranded here, not because she remembers, but because she read it. She didn't even recognise her own handwriting, but when she watches the new entry she's written, she knows it's hers, because it looks the same.
She doesn't write the numbers above her entries any more. She crosses them out, pen scratching over paper sounds better than reading how many days they've been here, better than the constant reminder of knowing that the baby is coming.
She wants to write a name on top of each entry, but she can't bring herself to pretend that someone will actually read this ever again, except her. So she just writes, marks the ends of days with stars or little drawings, doodles of birds or just flowers.
--
She likes Kate, she likes talking to her and she likes her company. She read somewhere that she likes Kate, but she doesn't need the diary to tell her what to feel. She likes Charlie too, a lot, because he was in every entry ever since she met him. She doesn't need the diary to tell her that either, she knows it when she watches him or spends time with him. He's very sweet and protective, even though she claims she doesn't need it, that she can take care of herself. She likes having someone around that actually wants to take of her for who she is, not because she's pregant.
--
It's so warm, even in the shade. I can feel the baby kicking and I'm not in any pain yet, but I'm scared. I don't want to give birth to this baby on the island, I want to deliver it in a hospital, where it's clean and where I can give it up. I don't want to be a mother, I'll be a bad mother and all it will have is this to grow up, the island and a mother that doesn't even want him. Charlie tells me I shouldn't think like that, but I can't help it. I don't know anything about babies, I don't know how to do this and I can't do it by myself. Charlie says he'll help me out, but what if he gets scared too and leaves me? Like Thomas...
Sawyer is coming now, he'll try and read my diary again, so I'll stop writing. I do like him in a way, he can be funny and charming if he wants to be.
I still like Charlie best.
--
The sun is starting to set and Claire's watching in, hands on her belly. She's calm and a little drowsy, her eyes fluttering every so often. She can hear someone approaching her, hears the sound of a string and she knows it's Charlie.
"I thought you could use some company," he says and smiles down at her.
She looks up at him and smiles back, a light smile and she nods, telling him he can sit down if he wants. He settles in the sand next to her and watches the sun disappaear behind the horizon, watching orange and red and yellowish light sparkling in the ocean. His fingers play a little with the strings on his guitar.
"I could play you a song," he says, "what do you want me to play?"
She is silent for a while, thinking of a song she likes, but she can't think of one.
"Why don't you play me your favourite song?"
--
Sounds of the guitar fill her ears and the wind carries it to the other survivors. Charlie has a nice singing voice, it's soft and sweet just like him and Claire doesn't want him to stop. The lyrics are simple and yet they touch her and she finds herself trying to memorise them, to write them in her diary.
Claire feels warm and comfortable and she smiles as Charlie stops playing, a high note marking the end of the song.
"You sing really well, Charlie. I liked it."
He smiles and turns away, shy for receiving a compliment from her.
"I wrote this one on the island.." he says, looking at her again.
She turns her head and watches him, her eyes looking into his and she feels warm again, butterflies in her belly and it's not because of the baby kicking.
"I wrote it for you, Claire."
They are both silent and Claire's heart leaps, she feels so strange and not unlike a teenager again as he leans in closer. His lips touch hers lightly, softly and it tastes sweet and delicious and she presses her lips closer before letting go.
"Thank you, Charlie." she says and they both smile, shy and a little giddy.
--
She watches him starting to play another song, one of his favourites as he claims and she listens intently. She likes it too, likes the sad tones that change into brighter ones, happier ones. The songs make her heart lighter and she feels the fear of delivering the baby on the island abating a little. Maybe Charlie was going to help her out after all, maybe he wouldn't leave her alone, like she used to be.
--
When she flips the pages in her diary, she notices the doodles marking the ends of entries or days are frequently hearts and roses now. The first things she notices as she opens the diary to write, is that Charlie's name is always bolder than the other words, his name stands out and she smiles every time she reads it. Maybe there's still hope after all.
Pairing; Charlie/Claire
Rating; G
Words; 938
Disclaimer; I do not own them, I just like playing with them.
A/N; Written for hopelessfangirl, who requested Charlie/Claire. Set in S1, when Claire lost her memory.
Day #...
--
She knows she used to write the number of the days they were stranded here, not because she remembers, but because she read it. She didn't even recognise her own handwriting, but when she watches the new entry she's written, she knows it's hers, because it looks the same.
She doesn't write the numbers above her entries any more. She crosses them out, pen scratching over paper sounds better than reading how many days they've been here, better than the constant reminder of knowing that the baby is coming.
She wants to write a name on top of each entry, but she can't bring herself to pretend that someone will actually read this ever again, except her. So she just writes, marks the ends of days with stars or little drawings, doodles of birds or just flowers.
--
She likes Kate, she likes talking to her and she likes her company. She read somewhere that she likes Kate, but she doesn't need the diary to tell her what to feel. She likes Charlie too, a lot, because he was in every entry ever since she met him. She doesn't need the diary to tell her that either, she knows it when she watches him or spends time with him. He's very sweet and protective, even though she claims she doesn't need it, that she can take care of herself. She likes having someone around that actually wants to take of her for who she is, not because she's pregant.
--
It's so warm, even in the shade. I can feel the baby kicking and I'm not in any pain yet, but I'm scared. I don't want to give birth to this baby on the island, I want to deliver it in a hospital, where it's clean and where I can give it up. I don't want to be a mother, I'll be a bad mother and all it will have is this to grow up, the island and a mother that doesn't even want him. Charlie tells me I shouldn't think like that, but I can't help it. I don't know anything about babies, I don't know how to do this and I can't do it by myself. Charlie says he'll help me out, but what if he gets scared too and leaves me? Like Thomas...
Sawyer is coming now, he'll try and read my diary again, so I'll stop writing. I do like him in a way, he can be funny and charming if he wants to be.
I still like Charlie best.
--
The sun is starting to set and Claire's watching in, hands on her belly. She's calm and a little drowsy, her eyes fluttering every so often. She can hear someone approaching her, hears the sound of a string and she knows it's Charlie.
"I thought you could use some company," he says and smiles down at her.
She looks up at him and smiles back, a light smile and she nods, telling him he can sit down if he wants. He settles in the sand next to her and watches the sun disappaear behind the horizon, watching orange and red and yellowish light sparkling in the ocean. His fingers play a little with the strings on his guitar.
"I could play you a song," he says, "what do you want me to play?"
She is silent for a while, thinking of a song she likes, but she can't think of one.
"Why don't you play me your favourite song?"
--
Sounds of the guitar fill her ears and the wind carries it to the other survivors. Charlie has a nice singing voice, it's soft and sweet just like him and Claire doesn't want him to stop. The lyrics are simple and yet they touch her and she finds herself trying to memorise them, to write them in her diary.
Claire feels warm and comfortable and she smiles as Charlie stops playing, a high note marking the end of the song.
"You sing really well, Charlie. I liked it."
He smiles and turns away, shy for receiving a compliment from her.
"I wrote this one on the island.." he says, looking at her again.
She turns her head and watches him, her eyes looking into his and she feels warm again, butterflies in her belly and it's not because of the baby kicking.
"I wrote it for you, Claire."
They are both silent and Claire's heart leaps, she feels so strange and not unlike a teenager again as he leans in closer. His lips touch hers lightly, softly and it tastes sweet and delicious and she presses her lips closer before letting go.
"Thank you, Charlie." she says and they both smile, shy and a little giddy.
--
She watches him starting to play another song, one of his favourites as he claims and she listens intently. She likes it too, likes the sad tones that change into brighter ones, happier ones. The songs make her heart lighter and she feels the fear of delivering the baby on the island abating a little. Maybe Charlie was going to help her out after all, maybe he wouldn't leave her alone, like she used to be.
--
When she flips the pages in her diary, she notices the doodles marking the ends of entries or days are frequently hearts and roses now. The first things she notices as she opens the diary to write, is that Charlie's name is always bolder than the other words, his name stands out and she smiles every time she reads it. Maybe there's still hope after all.