Past, Present & Future 3/4
See? I told you I'd post it soon!
Title: Past, Present and Future 3/4
Authors: pacejunkie and sapphire_child
Rating: PG-13
Genre: flangst, AU, future fic
Warning: multiple character deaths
Spoilers: up to and including the end of season three
Summary: One year on from being rescued, Claire Littleton thinks she has finally found solace in her new life away from the island - and the haunting memory of what it was that got her rescued in the first place. But when she receives a phone call from the most unexpected person, they give her some news which threatens to turn her life upside down once again…
Disclaimer: Even after the death of our favourite character, the writers of Lost haven’t discouraged either of us from writing fics! There is still plenty of work to be done in the world of AU and we are proud to continue doing it! Why sue us? We write better than they do anyways!
Links: Part One, Part Two, Part Four, Epilogue (written by falafal_fiction
~*~
When Claire returned to the hospital, her purse was almost bursting open from the large jar she had forced into it. Desmond had not come with her this time but she felt surprisingly at ease as she knocked on Charlie’s door. From within she heard him grant her access and she slipped inside.
Charlie was propped up in bed, fully clothed, with a book on his lap. When she came in however, he hastily put his book aside and sat up a little straighter.
“Hullo!” he smiled at her, looking inordinately pleased. “This is a nice surprise! I should have guessed really -- you and Des are the only ones who actually knock before you come in.”
Claire chuckled as she made her way over to the bed, slipping her shoes off and climbing onto the end of his bed, taking care not to squash his feet. “How are you Charlie?”
“Just as confused as the last time I saw you,” Charlie said cheerfully and then gestured at the book he had put on his bedside table. Looking closer, Claire could see that it was a crossword puzzle book. “I’m just killing time today really. Avoiding doing my stupid exercise routine.”
“Exercise routine?”
Charlie nodded. “I’m meant to do a certain amount of physical exercise everyday to make sure I don’t get fat. And to keep this buggered leg of mine moving too. I don’t see the point really, it’s pretty well stuffed already, nothing more to be done for it now but…” he trailed off awkwardly then hastily changed the subject. “So how’re you anyway?”
“Same old,” Claire sighed. “I had to work this morning so…”
“Where do you work?” Charlie interrupted curiously.
“At a newsagency,” Claire said promptly. “We sell magazine’s and stationary and stuff.”
“How exciting,” Charlie said dryly and Claire laughed.
“Well it helps pay the bills,” she amended. “And it certainly helps to fill the day up.”
Charlie nodded and then gestured at her neck.
“You’re still wearing the ring,” he observed. “My ring I suppose I should say.”
Claire glanced down at it automatically, surprised that he had noticed. “I don’t often take it off,” she confessed. “I’ve been wearing it for so long now…”
Charlie’s ears went pink and he lowered his eyes and Claire changed the subject, sensing his embarrassment.
“Do you like peanut butter Charlie?”
“I-what?” Charlie looked confused. “Uh, yes? I guess? Why?”
“Good,” Claire reached for her purse and pulled forth the jar she’d brought. “Because I brought you some.”
Charlie stared at the jar in Claire’s hand for a long moment and then looked up at her as though fearing for her sanity.
“Uh…Claire? That jar’s empty.”
Claire frowned at him and then scrutinised the jar carefully. “Is it?” Charlie continued to look confused as Claire opened the lid and peered inside it. “No it’s definitely full,” she said. She could feel Charlie’s incredulous gaze on her as she dipped her fingers into the jar and then brought the imaginary condiment to her lips. “It’s really good,” she informed him. “You should really try some.”
She then proceeded to lick her fingers clean, one at a time.
Charlie’s mouth was hanging slightly open now. After a moment, he cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Are you…” he cleared his throat again. “Are you trying to…come onto me?”
Claire burst out laughing.
“You know,” she said between giggles. “That’s exactly what I wanted to ask you the first time you brought me imaginary peanut butter!”
Charlie looked confused for a moment longer but then he looked rather delighted and Claire’s heart leapt -- had he finally remembered something?
“I did that?” He said wonderingly. “I tried to woo you with imaginary peanut butter?”
“You didn’t woo me with imaginary peanut butter,” Claire corrected him hastily. “You used it to bribe me to move up to the caves where it was safer.”
Charlie laughed. “Sounds like I was quite an actor eh?”
“Well you certainly did a better job of it than I just did,” Claire said, watching him closely. There was no flicker of recognition in his eyes however and she felt her spirits sink slightly. Charlie, seemingly oblivious to her scrutiny, reached out a tentative finger.
“May I?”
“Of course,” Claire offered the jar and Charlie dipped his index finger in, scraping the smooth glass edge until he had a substantial amount and then he gave his finger a tentative lick.
“You’re right,” he said after a moment, his eyes sparkling. “This is good peanut butter.”
Claire beamed as he licked the rest off.
“Did we often play games like this?” Charlie asked mildly. “On the island?”
“Oh we played games all the time,” Claire absent-mindedly reached into the jar again as she spoke. “We used to list what we missed from home. And you used to write the most ridiculous songs and then you’d sing them at the top of your lungs and scare everyone off. I remember one day we collected shells and then made patterns with them in the sand. That was way back when we first crashed…”
“Sounds like we had some nice memories together,” Charlie said regretfully. “Wish I could remember them.”
Claire touched his leg reassuringly without even thinking and Charlie glanced at her in surprise.
“Don’t worry,” she said quietly. “You will remember. Because I’m going to keep coming back here until you do okay?”
“That’s sweet of you but really -- what’s the point?” Charlie smiled sadly. “I’m a lost cause.”
“Don’t say things like that,” Claire said reproachfully. “You’re not a lost cause. You’re worth every minute I spend with you.”
Charlie turned a brilliant shade of crimson.
Right before she left, Claire placed the empty jar on his bedside table and then pulled her necklace off again.
“I’m going to give this ring back to you today…” Claire said, taking Charlie’s hand in hers as she pushed the ring onto his middle finger, where he used to wear it. “…because I don’t need it anymore. I should’ve given it to you last time.”
Charlie glanced down at the ring on his hand, then up at Claire, seemingly ready to argue.
“Don’t you even bother trying to argue with me,” Claire said firmly as he opened his mouth. Charlie clammed up immediately. “I told you, I don’t need it anymore.”
“Why not?”
Claire shrugged. “Why would I need a ring to remind me of you when you’re right here?”
Charlie’s brow creased painfully. “Claire…”
“I’m gonna help you Charlie,” Claire said quietly. “And if that means spending the next five years telling you stories until something triggers off a memory then that’s okay. I’ll gladly do it if it means that I’ll get you back again.”
Charlie seemed at a loss for words. He began to stutter. “But -- why would you want me back so badly? From what the others told me -- or rather what they didn’t tell me -- I wasn’t particularly worth much notice. I was just…Charlie.”
Claire paused, wondering if she’d just overstepped the mark. She didn’t want to scare him off with declarations of love, but she had to give him some sort of explanation for putting so much effort into helping him. But then, inexplicably, she felt her mouth open again and the words came out as perfectly as if she’d rehearsed them.
“They didn’t know you like I knew you. You were brave and honest, loyal, selfless, a true friend. You always tried to do the right thing -- even when everyone else had turned against you. You saved me Charlie. And ultimately everyone else for that matter and you did that without any regards to your own life.” She smiled warmly at him. “And that’s more than I can say for almost anyone else who was on that island with us.”
Charlie burned red for the umpteenth time that day and toyed distractedly with his ring as Claire waved her farewell.
“I’ll see you soon okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, a little dazedly. “Yeah I’ll see you.”
Claire walked out of the hospital still smiling.
~*~
Several visits later and it was mid December, almost Christmas, and there seemed to be a happy buzz in the air even in the hospital -- due no doubt to the tinsel decorations in reception and the sweltering summer heat that had always symbolised the coming of Christmas Day in Australia. Claire happily thought of her own decorations and her Christmas tree, small though it was, and wished plaintively that she could share it with Charlie. There had been no progress so far with regaining his memories but the two of them were certainly becoming a lot closer through the amount of time they were spending together.
Reaching into her handbag, Claire grasped her Christmas present for him, and her memory trigger object for the day. It had taken her several weeks to find it -- she had hidden it so carefully that she had thought that she’d lost it -- but the search had been well worth it in the end.
Charlie was sound asleep on the untidy scrabble of his unmade bed when Claire came in, his head lolling over to one side as she crept into his room silently. For a moment she considered just leaving and coming back later on in the week but then he gave a sleepy sigh and Claire found herself sinking down onto her knees beside his bed and just watching him sleep.
There were several new scars on his visage the she hadn’t really taken stock of before -- faded now but still unfamiliar to her. The scars that she did still remember were very faded indeed now -- the thick burn over his left eye that he had procured whilst rescuing Aaron from Rousseau, the thin pale line on his cheek from when Locke had hit him and made him fall onto the rocks…
Claire reached out to smooth his rumpled hair but just as she touched him, Charlie gave a grunting snore and his eyes flickered open. Claire snatched her hand back as half lucid-grey met pale blue and she saw surprise register on Charlie’s face.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” he murmured, pushing himself up hastily into a sitting position. “How long have you been sitting there for?”
“Not long,” Claire retreated swiftly to the end of the bed and took up her usual position, trying to put some distance between the two of them. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“No matter,” Charlie waved an impatient hand. “What have you brought for me today?” he grinned at her suddenly. “More imaginary condiments?”
Claire smiled. “Nope.” She dug deep into her bag and brought forth a small blue book, the thin pages buckled from moisture, and handed it to Charlie.
He took it and then proceeded to turn it over in curious hands, gently touching the beaded bookmark before finally looking up at Claire.
“What’s this then?” he asked. “Someone’s journal?”
Claire nodded. “It’s mine.”
Charlie blinked and then brandished the diary at her nervously. “What -- you want me to read it?”
“Sure,” Claire said blithely. “I wrote about you a fair bit -- maybe something will sound familiar to you.”
Charlie looked unaccountably awkward as he opened the book a fraction and then slammed it shut again, looking scandalised.
“What’s wrong?” Claire frowned.
“I just…” Charlie hesitated and then put the book down hurriedly, just out of his reach. “I don’t feel like I can read this. I feel like I’m invading your privacy.”
Claire stared. “Charlie, I’ve given you my permission to read it and I’m sitting right here with you. It’s not an invasion of privacy if…”
“Well it still feels like it.” Charlie said firmly. “I’m sorry Claire. I can’t read it.”
“But it might help you!” Claire said, frustrated. “What if this is the thing that finally helps you get your memories back?”
Charlie stubbornly crossed his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits and in a sudden surge of anger, Claire snatched the diary up and hit him on the nose with it.
“Ow! What was that for?” he said reproachfully, rubbing his nose.
“For being insufferably chivalrous,” Claire said tartly. “And if you’re not going to read the bloody thing then there’s only one thing for it…”
“You’re going to keep hitting my nose with it until I start bleeding?”
Claire opened it to a random page and frowned self-righteously at Charlie.
“No. I’m going to read it out to you.”
Charlie stared at her blankly for a moment but then he chuckled suddenly. “You are a very stubborn woman -- did you know that?”
Claire tried to mask her own smile as she looked down at the page she had opened it to.
And then she froze.
“Go on then,” Charlie said, settling himself down comfortably, oblivious to Claire’s sudden discomfort. “If you’re going to read it to me then you’d better get started.”
Claire quickly went to flip the page over but Charlie reached forward, startlingly fast, and stopped her.
“What’s wrong with that entry?”
“Nothing,” Claire lied falteringly. “It’s just…I don’t really talk about you much in it…”
Charlie paused, scrutinising her, and then he laughed. “You’re not very good at lying Claire.” He didn’t relinquish his hold on the small book. “What don’t you want me to hear? Did you write something about me that you think I won’t want to hear? Is that it?”
Claire was silent and Charlie sighed deeply and sat back.
“Claire, I already know that I wasn’t a model citizen. I was a heroin addict for Chrissakes! I promise that anything bad you’ve said about me in your diary will be forgiven.”
“It’s not…bad stuff that I’ve written about you though…” Claire said tentatively and Charlie looked nothing short of confused.
“If it’s not bad then why the bloody hell don’t you want to read it out?”
“Okay, okay,” Claire said quickly before Charlie could ponder that particular thought any longer and put two and two together. “I’ll read it out to you okay? Just…just promise me that you won’t freak out at anything that I’ve written.”
Charlie nodded.
Claire took a deep breath, stilled her shaking hands by gripping on even tighter to the small book in her hands, and began to read:
“Last night took me by complete surprise. I was the one who initiated it and yet it seemed like I was another person altogether, one who was no longer scared and afraid to trust. I haven’t been able to get it off my mind but I think that I’ve finally forgiven Charlie because after the hatch door landed on the beach I was just so relieved that he was safe…”
Charlie was silent for a long time after Claire finished reading. She was certain that her face was bright crimson and the tears in her eyes were threatening to overwhelm her completely -- and that was nothing compared to the yawning chasm that seemed to have opened up in the floor and swallowed all of her internal organs. She determinedly avoided looking at him, instead choosing to stare at the scribbled pages of her diary.
The first movement Charlie made, after many minutes had passed, was to swing his legs over the side of the bed and move along until he was sitting right next to her. Slowly, silently, she did the same, until they were sitting shoulder to shoulder, a perfect mirror image of each other.
And then, finally, he spoke.
“We…” he stopped for a moment and then started again. “We weren’t just friends.”
It wasn’t a question but Claire couldn’t have answered it even if she’d wanted to.
“Were we?”
Claire sighed and shook her head, staring intently at her diary, still clutched tightly in her hands. Charlie paused for another long moment as he stared at her profile and then he dropped his eyes. “Claire…” he broke off suddenly and shook his head. “I really don’t know what to say.”
“It’s okay,” Claire whispered, finally finding her voice and allowing her eyes to meet his. He gazed back at her quite steadily. “You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t expect you to.”
Charlie grimaced. “I still kind of feel like I should apologise...or something.”
“What for?” Claire asked, surprised.
“For forgetting somebody as wonderful as you,” Charlie murmured.
Claire felt a familiar lump rising in her throat.
“Charlie…” she murmured.
The two of them stared at each other for a tense moment. Claire’s breath quickened ever so slightly and her hands began to tremble anew. She held tight to the diary to disguise the shaking.
“Claire,” Charlie said suddenly, softly and very seriously. “If you want to kiss me I won’t stop you.”
A nervous laugh escaped from Claire and she bit her lip to quiet herself. “Am I being that obvious?”
In answer, Charlie smiled ruefully. “If you want to then go ahead,” he repeated. “It can’t do any harm right?”
Claire set the diary aside and looked Charlie square in the eyes. He certainly seemed earnest enough. And maybe this would be the thing to trigger off his memories? Maybe simply her presence hadn’t been enough -- maybe he needed a tangible reminder of what they had felt for each other…
“And maybe…” she murmured, her voice trembling over every syllable. “Maybe it’ll h-help you remember?”
“Maybe.” He agreed.
Claire shuffled a hairsbreadth closer to Charlie, sucking in a short breath when their thighs touched. Charlie took in a similarly shaky breath -- the first and only sign that Claire had seen that he was just as nerve-wracked about this situation as she herself was. His eyes said otherwise, they were quite calm as Claire nervously pushed her hair out of her eyes and then licked her lips in an almost subconscious gesture.
“Go on then,” Charlie urged her just as Claire leant forwards. The moment their lips touched together however, Claire found herself choking suddenly on a sob and she pulled back hurriedly, her eyes flooding with tears.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I-I can’t…I don’t think I can…”
The feel of Charlie’s hand, warm and calloused and real against her cheek gave her pause and then he was saying, “Come on, at least do the thing properly…” and Claire found herself kissing Charlie again, the salt of her tears dripping into the corners of their joined mouths.
They pulled back almost at the same moment and Claire immediately scanned his eyes for some flicker of recognition, but there was nothing there to see but disappointment and sadness.
“You didn’t really believe that kissing me was going to help you remember anything -- did you?” Claire said bleakly.
Charlie shook his head, caught out. “No. But I thought that it might help you.”
Claire gaped at him, completely shocked, and when she spoke her voice trembled over the new tears that were threatening to spill over her cheeks.
“Oh Charlie…you’re still in there somewhere -- aren’t you? You just can’t find your way out…”
Charlie nodded, his face pained and Claire began to cry in earnest then. She leant her forehead against his shoulder as he put an awkward arm around her and began to stroke her hair gently.
In spite of everything, Claire couldn’t but marvel at the man beside her. Even now, when he was scared beyond all means, when he had no idea who he was, Charlie was still holding strong and putting her wellbeing before his own.
“Sorry to make you cry,” Charlie apologized again and Claire gave something halfway between a laugh and a sob.
“Sorry for being such lousy company and crying all over you,” she sniffed heavily and sat up again.
“Hang on a sec…” free from the burden of her crying all over his shoulder, Charlie pushed himself off the bed and hobbled over to get a tissue for her from the box on his bedside table. Claire gratefully accepted it and wiped her swollen eyes dry again. By the time she’d blown her nose, Charlie had acquired his cane and was offering her his free hand.
“How about we go for a walk in the gardens?” He said lightly. Claire took his hand and slid off the bed. “Clear out the cobwebs eh?”
The trip downstairs showed Claire beyond all doubt why Charlie was so loathe to exercise. Just getting down to the bottom floor took them almost twenty minutes -- and that was not only with Claire helping him but also by using the lift.
The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully with the two of them wandering unhurriedly through the garden. When she left, Claire gave Charlie her diary and he pocketed it without a word.
“I’ll see you soon,” she promised, squeezing his hand. “I’m going to be busy over Christmas but I’ll try my hardest to make it in to see you okay?’
“I look forward to it,” Charlie smiled gently at her. “You hang in there okay? Have yourself a safe Christmas and try not to worry too much about me.”
Claire smiled sadly. “I’ll try not to but I’m afraid I can’t promise you anything.”
“I’ll see you soon Claire,”
“Yes,” she murmured. “You will.”
Title: Past, Present and Future 3/4
Authors: pacejunkie and sapphire_child
Rating: PG-13
Genre: flangst, AU, future fic
Warning: multiple character deaths
Spoilers: up to and including the end of season three
Summary: One year on from being rescued, Claire Littleton thinks she has finally found solace in her new life away from the island - and the haunting memory of what it was that got her rescued in the first place. But when she receives a phone call from the most unexpected person, they give her some news which threatens to turn her life upside down once again…
Disclaimer: Even after the death of our favourite character, the writers of Lost haven’t discouraged either of us from writing fics! There is still plenty of work to be done in the world of AU and we are proud to continue doing it! Why sue us? We write better than they do anyways!
Links: Part One, Part Two, Part Four, Epilogue (written by falafal_fiction
~*~
When Claire returned to the hospital, her purse was almost bursting open from the large jar she had forced into it. Desmond had not come with her this time but she felt surprisingly at ease as she knocked on Charlie’s door. From within she heard him grant her access and she slipped inside.
Charlie was propped up in bed, fully clothed, with a book on his lap. When she came in however, he hastily put his book aside and sat up a little straighter.
“Hullo!” he smiled at her, looking inordinately pleased. “This is a nice surprise! I should have guessed really -- you and Des are the only ones who actually knock before you come in.”
Claire chuckled as she made her way over to the bed, slipping her shoes off and climbing onto the end of his bed, taking care not to squash his feet. “How are you Charlie?”
“Just as confused as the last time I saw you,” Charlie said cheerfully and then gestured at the book he had put on his bedside table. Looking closer, Claire could see that it was a crossword puzzle book. “I’m just killing time today really. Avoiding doing my stupid exercise routine.”
“Exercise routine?”
Charlie nodded. “I’m meant to do a certain amount of physical exercise everyday to make sure I don’t get fat. And to keep this buggered leg of mine moving too. I don’t see the point really, it’s pretty well stuffed already, nothing more to be done for it now but…” he trailed off awkwardly then hastily changed the subject. “So how’re you anyway?”
“Same old,” Claire sighed. “I had to work this morning so…”
“Where do you work?” Charlie interrupted curiously.
“At a newsagency,” Claire said promptly. “We sell magazine’s and stationary and stuff.”
“How exciting,” Charlie said dryly and Claire laughed.
“Well it helps pay the bills,” she amended. “And it certainly helps to fill the day up.”
Charlie nodded and then gestured at her neck.
“You’re still wearing the ring,” he observed. “My ring I suppose I should say.”
Claire glanced down at it automatically, surprised that he had noticed. “I don’t often take it off,” she confessed. “I’ve been wearing it for so long now…”
Charlie’s ears went pink and he lowered his eyes and Claire changed the subject, sensing his embarrassment.
“Do you like peanut butter Charlie?”
“I-what?” Charlie looked confused. “Uh, yes? I guess? Why?”
“Good,” Claire reached for her purse and pulled forth the jar she’d brought. “Because I brought you some.”
Charlie stared at the jar in Claire’s hand for a long moment and then looked up at her as though fearing for her sanity.
“Uh…Claire? That jar’s empty.”
Claire frowned at him and then scrutinised the jar carefully. “Is it?” Charlie continued to look confused as Claire opened the lid and peered inside it. “No it’s definitely full,” she said. She could feel Charlie’s incredulous gaze on her as she dipped her fingers into the jar and then brought the imaginary condiment to her lips. “It’s really good,” she informed him. “You should really try some.”
She then proceeded to lick her fingers clean, one at a time.
Charlie’s mouth was hanging slightly open now. After a moment, he cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Are you…” he cleared his throat again. “Are you trying to…come onto me?”
Claire burst out laughing.
“You know,” she said between giggles. “That’s exactly what I wanted to ask you the first time you brought me imaginary peanut butter!”
Charlie looked confused for a moment longer but then he looked rather delighted and Claire’s heart leapt -- had he finally remembered something?
“I did that?” He said wonderingly. “I tried to woo you with imaginary peanut butter?”
“You didn’t woo me with imaginary peanut butter,” Claire corrected him hastily. “You used it to bribe me to move up to the caves where it was safer.”
Charlie laughed. “Sounds like I was quite an actor eh?”
“Well you certainly did a better job of it than I just did,” Claire said, watching him closely. There was no flicker of recognition in his eyes however and she felt her spirits sink slightly. Charlie, seemingly oblivious to her scrutiny, reached out a tentative finger.
“May I?”
“Of course,” Claire offered the jar and Charlie dipped his index finger in, scraping the smooth glass edge until he had a substantial amount and then he gave his finger a tentative lick.
“You’re right,” he said after a moment, his eyes sparkling. “This is good peanut butter.”
Claire beamed as he licked the rest off.
“Did we often play games like this?” Charlie asked mildly. “On the island?”
“Oh we played games all the time,” Claire absent-mindedly reached into the jar again as she spoke. “We used to list what we missed from home. And you used to write the most ridiculous songs and then you’d sing them at the top of your lungs and scare everyone off. I remember one day we collected shells and then made patterns with them in the sand. That was way back when we first crashed…”
“Sounds like we had some nice memories together,” Charlie said regretfully. “Wish I could remember them.”
Claire touched his leg reassuringly without even thinking and Charlie glanced at her in surprise.
“Don’t worry,” she said quietly. “You will remember. Because I’m going to keep coming back here until you do okay?”
“That’s sweet of you but really -- what’s the point?” Charlie smiled sadly. “I’m a lost cause.”
“Don’t say things like that,” Claire said reproachfully. “You’re not a lost cause. You’re worth every minute I spend with you.”
Charlie turned a brilliant shade of crimson.
Right before she left, Claire placed the empty jar on his bedside table and then pulled her necklace off again.
“I’m going to give this ring back to you today…” Claire said, taking Charlie’s hand in hers as she pushed the ring onto his middle finger, where he used to wear it. “…because I don’t need it anymore. I should’ve given it to you last time.”
Charlie glanced down at the ring on his hand, then up at Claire, seemingly ready to argue.
“Don’t you even bother trying to argue with me,” Claire said firmly as he opened his mouth. Charlie clammed up immediately. “I told you, I don’t need it anymore.”
“Why not?”
Claire shrugged. “Why would I need a ring to remind me of you when you’re right here?”
Charlie’s brow creased painfully. “Claire…”
“I’m gonna help you Charlie,” Claire said quietly. “And if that means spending the next five years telling you stories until something triggers off a memory then that’s okay. I’ll gladly do it if it means that I’ll get you back again.”
Charlie seemed at a loss for words. He began to stutter. “But -- why would you want me back so badly? From what the others told me -- or rather what they didn’t tell me -- I wasn’t particularly worth much notice. I was just…Charlie.”
Claire paused, wondering if she’d just overstepped the mark. She didn’t want to scare him off with declarations of love, but she had to give him some sort of explanation for putting so much effort into helping him. But then, inexplicably, she felt her mouth open again and the words came out as perfectly as if she’d rehearsed them.
“They didn’t know you like I knew you. You were brave and honest, loyal, selfless, a true friend. You always tried to do the right thing -- even when everyone else had turned against you. You saved me Charlie. And ultimately everyone else for that matter and you did that without any regards to your own life.” She smiled warmly at him. “And that’s more than I can say for almost anyone else who was on that island with us.”
Charlie burned red for the umpteenth time that day and toyed distractedly with his ring as Claire waved her farewell.
“I’ll see you soon okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, a little dazedly. “Yeah I’ll see you.”
Claire walked out of the hospital still smiling.
~*~
Several visits later and it was mid December, almost Christmas, and there seemed to be a happy buzz in the air even in the hospital -- due no doubt to the tinsel decorations in reception and the sweltering summer heat that had always symbolised the coming of Christmas Day in Australia. Claire happily thought of her own decorations and her Christmas tree, small though it was, and wished plaintively that she could share it with Charlie. There had been no progress so far with regaining his memories but the two of them were certainly becoming a lot closer through the amount of time they were spending together.
Reaching into her handbag, Claire grasped her Christmas present for him, and her memory trigger object for the day. It had taken her several weeks to find it -- she had hidden it so carefully that she had thought that she’d lost it -- but the search had been well worth it in the end.
Charlie was sound asleep on the untidy scrabble of his unmade bed when Claire came in, his head lolling over to one side as she crept into his room silently. For a moment she considered just leaving and coming back later on in the week but then he gave a sleepy sigh and Claire found herself sinking down onto her knees beside his bed and just watching him sleep.
There were several new scars on his visage the she hadn’t really taken stock of before -- faded now but still unfamiliar to her. The scars that she did still remember were very faded indeed now -- the thick burn over his left eye that he had procured whilst rescuing Aaron from Rousseau, the thin pale line on his cheek from when Locke had hit him and made him fall onto the rocks…
Claire reached out to smooth his rumpled hair but just as she touched him, Charlie gave a grunting snore and his eyes flickered open. Claire snatched her hand back as half lucid-grey met pale blue and she saw surprise register on Charlie’s face.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” he murmured, pushing himself up hastily into a sitting position. “How long have you been sitting there for?”
“Not long,” Claire retreated swiftly to the end of the bed and took up her usual position, trying to put some distance between the two of them. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“No matter,” Charlie waved an impatient hand. “What have you brought for me today?” he grinned at her suddenly. “More imaginary condiments?”
Claire smiled. “Nope.” She dug deep into her bag and brought forth a small blue book, the thin pages buckled from moisture, and handed it to Charlie.
He took it and then proceeded to turn it over in curious hands, gently touching the beaded bookmark before finally looking up at Claire.
“What’s this then?” he asked. “Someone’s journal?”
Claire nodded. “It’s mine.”
Charlie blinked and then brandished the diary at her nervously. “What -- you want me to read it?”
“Sure,” Claire said blithely. “I wrote about you a fair bit -- maybe something will sound familiar to you.”
Charlie looked unaccountably awkward as he opened the book a fraction and then slammed it shut again, looking scandalised.
“What’s wrong?” Claire frowned.
“I just…” Charlie hesitated and then put the book down hurriedly, just out of his reach. “I don’t feel like I can read this. I feel like I’m invading your privacy.”
Claire stared. “Charlie, I’ve given you my permission to read it and I’m sitting right here with you. It’s not an invasion of privacy if…”
“Well it still feels like it.” Charlie said firmly. “I’m sorry Claire. I can’t read it.”
“But it might help you!” Claire said, frustrated. “What if this is the thing that finally helps you get your memories back?”
Charlie stubbornly crossed his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits and in a sudden surge of anger, Claire snatched the diary up and hit him on the nose with it.
“Ow! What was that for?” he said reproachfully, rubbing his nose.
“For being insufferably chivalrous,” Claire said tartly. “And if you’re not going to read the bloody thing then there’s only one thing for it…”
“You’re going to keep hitting my nose with it until I start bleeding?”
Claire opened it to a random page and frowned self-righteously at Charlie.
“No. I’m going to read it out to you.”
Charlie stared at her blankly for a moment but then he chuckled suddenly. “You are a very stubborn woman -- did you know that?”
Claire tried to mask her own smile as she looked down at the page she had opened it to.
And then she froze.
“Go on then,” Charlie said, settling himself down comfortably, oblivious to Claire’s sudden discomfort. “If you’re going to read it to me then you’d better get started.”
Claire quickly went to flip the page over but Charlie reached forward, startlingly fast, and stopped her.
“What’s wrong with that entry?”
“Nothing,” Claire lied falteringly. “It’s just…I don’t really talk about you much in it…”
Charlie paused, scrutinising her, and then he laughed. “You’re not very good at lying Claire.” He didn’t relinquish his hold on the small book. “What don’t you want me to hear? Did you write something about me that you think I won’t want to hear? Is that it?”
Claire was silent and Charlie sighed deeply and sat back.
“Claire, I already know that I wasn’t a model citizen. I was a heroin addict for Chrissakes! I promise that anything bad you’ve said about me in your diary will be forgiven.”
“It’s not…bad stuff that I’ve written about you though…” Claire said tentatively and Charlie looked nothing short of confused.
“If it’s not bad then why the bloody hell don’t you want to read it out?”
“Okay, okay,” Claire said quickly before Charlie could ponder that particular thought any longer and put two and two together. “I’ll read it out to you okay? Just…just promise me that you won’t freak out at anything that I’ve written.”
Charlie nodded.
Claire took a deep breath, stilled her shaking hands by gripping on even tighter to the small book in her hands, and began to read:
“Last night took me by complete surprise. I was the one who initiated it and yet it seemed like I was another person altogether, one who was no longer scared and afraid to trust. I haven’t been able to get it off my mind but I think that I’ve finally forgiven Charlie because after the hatch door landed on the beach I was just so relieved that he was safe…”
Charlie was silent for a long time after Claire finished reading. She was certain that her face was bright crimson and the tears in her eyes were threatening to overwhelm her completely -- and that was nothing compared to the yawning chasm that seemed to have opened up in the floor and swallowed all of her internal organs. She determinedly avoided looking at him, instead choosing to stare at the scribbled pages of her diary.
The first movement Charlie made, after many minutes had passed, was to swing his legs over the side of the bed and move along until he was sitting right next to her. Slowly, silently, she did the same, until they were sitting shoulder to shoulder, a perfect mirror image of each other.
And then, finally, he spoke.
“We…” he stopped for a moment and then started again. “We weren’t just friends.”
It wasn’t a question but Claire couldn’t have answered it even if she’d wanted to.
“Were we?”
Claire sighed and shook her head, staring intently at her diary, still clutched tightly in her hands. Charlie paused for another long moment as he stared at her profile and then he dropped his eyes. “Claire…” he broke off suddenly and shook his head. “I really don’t know what to say.”
“It’s okay,” Claire whispered, finally finding her voice and allowing her eyes to meet his. He gazed back at her quite steadily. “You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t expect you to.”
Charlie grimaced. “I still kind of feel like I should apologise...or something.”
“What for?” Claire asked, surprised.
“For forgetting somebody as wonderful as you,” Charlie murmured.
Claire felt a familiar lump rising in her throat.
“Charlie…” she murmured.
The two of them stared at each other for a tense moment. Claire’s breath quickened ever so slightly and her hands began to tremble anew. She held tight to the diary to disguise the shaking.
“Claire,” Charlie said suddenly, softly and very seriously. “If you want to kiss me I won’t stop you.”
A nervous laugh escaped from Claire and she bit her lip to quiet herself. “Am I being that obvious?”
In answer, Charlie smiled ruefully. “If you want to then go ahead,” he repeated. “It can’t do any harm right?”
Claire set the diary aside and looked Charlie square in the eyes. He certainly seemed earnest enough. And maybe this would be the thing to trigger off his memories? Maybe simply her presence hadn’t been enough -- maybe he needed a tangible reminder of what they had felt for each other…
“And maybe…” she murmured, her voice trembling over every syllable. “Maybe it’ll h-help you remember?”
“Maybe.” He agreed.
Claire shuffled a hairsbreadth closer to Charlie, sucking in a short breath when their thighs touched. Charlie took in a similarly shaky breath -- the first and only sign that Claire had seen that he was just as nerve-wracked about this situation as she herself was. His eyes said otherwise, they were quite calm as Claire nervously pushed her hair out of her eyes and then licked her lips in an almost subconscious gesture.
“Go on then,” Charlie urged her just as Claire leant forwards. The moment their lips touched together however, Claire found herself choking suddenly on a sob and she pulled back hurriedly, her eyes flooding with tears.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I-I can’t…I don’t think I can…”
The feel of Charlie’s hand, warm and calloused and real against her cheek gave her pause and then he was saying, “Come on, at least do the thing properly…” and Claire found herself kissing Charlie again, the salt of her tears dripping into the corners of their joined mouths.
They pulled back almost at the same moment and Claire immediately scanned his eyes for some flicker of recognition, but there was nothing there to see but disappointment and sadness.
“You didn’t really believe that kissing me was going to help you remember anything -- did you?” Claire said bleakly.
Charlie shook his head, caught out. “No. But I thought that it might help you.”
Claire gaped at him, completely shocked, and when she spoke her voice trembled over the new tears that were threatening to spill over her cheeks.
“Oh Charlie…you’re still in there somewhere -- aren’t you? You just can’t find your way out…”
Charlie nodded, his face pained and Claire began to cry in earnest then. She leant her forehead against his shoulder as he put an awkward arm around her and began to stroke her hair gently.
In spite of everything, Claire couldn’t but marvel at the man beside her. Even now, when he was scared beyond all means, when he had no idea who he was, Charlie was still holding strong and putting her wellbeing before his own.
“Sorry to make you cry,” Charlie apologized again and Claire gave something halfway between a laugh and a sob.
“Sorry for being such lousy company and crying all over you,” she sniffed heavily and sat up again.
“Hang on a sec…” free from the burden of her crying all over his shoulder, Charlie pushed himself off the bed and hobbled over to get a tissue for her from the box on his bedside table. Claire gratefully accepted it and wiped her swollen eyes dry again. By the time she’d blown her nose, Charlie had acquired his cane and was offering her his free hand.
“How about we go for a walk in the gardens?” He said lightly. Claire took his hand and slid off the bed. “Clear out the cobwebs eh?”
The trip downstairs showed Claire beyond all doubt why Charlie was so loathe to exercise. Just getting down to the bottom floor took them almost twenty minutes -- and that was not only with Claire helping him but also by using the lift.
The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully with the two of them wandering unhurriedly through the garden. When she left, Claire gave Charlie her diary and he pocketed it without a word.
“I’ll see you soon,” she promised, squeezing his hand. “I’m going to be busy over Christmas but I’ll try my hardest to make it in to see you okay?’
“I look forward to it,” Charlie smiled gently at her. “You hang in there okay? Have yourself a safe Christmas and try not to worry too much about me.”
Claire smiled sadly. “I’ll try not to but I’m afraid I can’t promise you anything.”
“I’ll see you soon Claire,”
“Yes,” she murmured. “You will.”