Save Yourself for Me - 1/3
Title: Save Yourself for Me 1/3
Authors: pacejunkie and sapphire_child
Rating: PG
Characters: Claire, Charlie, Desmond, Juliet
Spoilers: up to the end of season three with some speculation for season four
Summary: When Claire’s rescue helicopter turns out to be a ploy by a rogue medical team to do experiments on Aaron, it’s up to Desmond and Juliet to find out where she’s being kept and to save them both for the real rescue. But Claire and Aaron are not the only flight 815 survivors who are being held hostage there…
Disclaimer: Lost doesn’t belong to us - but Charlie may as well do so near enough is good enough eh? We’re not making any money, please don’t sue us, thank you and enjoy.
A/N: This started off as a bunny from sapphire_child but all too soon she lost her inspiration for it and came to her friend and fellow writer pacejunkie seeking help to get her groove back into the fic. Then, before we both knew it, it was a co-authored fic with a Desmond+Juliet side story! We hope that you enjoy it as much as we both enjoyed writing it :)
~*~
Part One
It hadn’t been worth the cost. No helicopter in the world would be worth what this one had cost for Claire and Aaron to be on it. Charlie had paid for it with his life. She knew he had chosen it, but Claire wished she too had been granted the choice. She would have made a very different one.
And yet the choice was made, and there it was.
Three days after Desmond returned alone from the Looking Glass station the helicopter had arrived on the beach, just as he had seen and just as he had told Charlie it would. Desmond had also told Charlie that in order for Claire and Aaron to get on it, Charlie would have to die.
Charlie took Desmond at his word. And now he was gone.
She had cried for two days straight, finally taking in the sight of the helicopter with sore, red eyes and a pounding headache. She had wanted to scream at it, to tell it to go away and to hell with the bargain, but there was no undoing it. Now, Claire had to go or Charlie’s sacrifice would have been for nothing.
It was the least she could do for him. She owed him that much.
In the end, she came to a kind of peace, knowing it was what Charlie wanted. She was on her way back to civilization and Aaron would have a chance at a normal life. She even smiled at the thought as she made her goodbyes to the others. The chopper pilots had come to report that rescue was coming for everyone, but for now they could accommodate one additional person. Would they take one and a half, Desmond had joked, and everyone had laughed for the first time since learning of Charlie’s death. He knew they’d say yes, because he knew this was meant to happen. Claire hugged everyone, even Sawyer. Then she made her last farewells, boarded, and a sea of smiles lifted her and Aaron up into the clouds.
It was the happiest day of her life, but it would remain forever imperfect, like a diamond with a noticeable flaw. She wished Charlie were here to share it with her, but in a way he was, because he had made it possible.
“Where are you from miss?” asked the co-pilot once the island shrank from sight.
“Sydney,” she replied.
“That’s a lovely boy,” he remarked, eyeing Aaron. “Was he born on the island?”
Claire looked down at Aaron who was slowly nodding off in her arms, lulled by the rhythmic sound of the engine and propeller. “Yes, he was.”
“He must be very special,” he said.
He smiled at her then, a strange expression on his face, and Claire wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She told herself his remark was like any other compliment a new mother receives in the real world, although on the island, Claire knew that to be special carried dangerous connotations. She couldn’t help it but the word chilled her and perhaps always would.
“Will it be a long trip?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Not long,” he replied, turning back to the instruments, businesslike. “I suspect you’ll be there before you know it.”
Claire relaxed back into her chair and watched as the two pilots communicated to each other in a silent language of understanding. They worked in concert, each performing his task and then one would turn to the other with a questioning look and receive a nod. It continued that way for several minutes more. With the vast ocean before them and many miles to go, Claire wondered what they could be conferring over, when they suddenly hit what felt like an air pocket and jumped.
Claire gave a small yelp and gripped Aaron tighter. It was all too reminiscent of her last fateful flight and the memories came flooding back.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Nothing to worry about,” the co-pilot replied. “It’s always bumpy on the trip out. You may want to try to sleep.”
Claire didn’t think she could possibly fall asleep under these conditions, and at any rate there was nothing strapping Aaron in and she didn’t want him to roll from her arms. She was determined not to sleep.
“Asleep?” said Claire, “I don’t think so, I’ll be all right.”
The pilot turned back to look at her, and any earlier trace of a smile was gone.
“Really, Claire,” he said. “I think it would be best.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
Just then another bump larger than the first shook them. She gasped again and before she knew what was happening there was a hand covering her mouth with a cloth. An acrid scent rose from the cloth and burned in her nostrils. She tried to grab for it, to pull it away and then remembered Aaron.
He must be very special.
Claire fought until her strength was drained by the drug. The helicopter was shaking madly now and she remembered the tail section of her plane being ripped away. She didn’t know what was happening now but it was frightening her out of her wits.
Oh God, please no.
This wasn’t rescue.
~*~
Had she been dreaming? Claire was lying down on a cold concrete bench, stirring but still disoriented. Slowly she remembered the helicopter, and for an instant wondered if that had been a dream as well. But as she opened her eyes and the iron bars of the cell came into focus, Claire knew that no dream could have deposited her in a place like this.
What she had experienced had been a nightmare.
She sat up quickly, a little too quickly and had to stop for a moment to recover from a dizzy spell that spun the cell she was in counter clockwise. Then she looked around the tiny space for her son.
All that was there was a tray with a sandwich, some fruit and a bottle of water.
Claire stood and went to the bars, looking out from between them. All she saw was a dim exterior and a door on the opposite side of the anteroom. It was as quiet as a crypt.
“Hey!” she cried out, “Can anyone hear me?”
When she heard no sound she called again, “Where’s my son? I want my son!”
The silence combined with her captivity infuriated her, and she soon forgot her words and just started screaming in frustration, tears streaming down her cheeks. After a few minutes, her throat felt raw but she kept going, deciding that nothing short of exhaustion would stop her. She wanted their attention and she was going to get it. She fell to her knees, her screams transforming to cries of rage at life, at God, at whoever was responsible for this.
“Stop screaming would you?” came an irritated voice.
Claire looked up and gawked at the man who had invaded the room beyond her cell. He continued speaking as he entered fully.
“You’ve got no reason to be so upset,” he said, striding further into the room. The door shut behind him with a resounding bang and he stepped right into the light, illuminating his face. “You’re alive and you’re safe - what else do you want?”
“Ch-Charlie?” Claire choked out, disbelieving.
He grimaced and then nodded.
He was so different to the way she remembered him. Gone were the jeans and scruffy blonde hair. He was wearing an oversize lab coat over black dress pants and a pale blue button down shirt. He seemed pale and tired and his hair had been cropped so short that almost all of his highlights were gone. Claire had never actually realised just how dark his hair actually was before.
“Charlie,” she said again, this time with wonder as she pulled herself up and hurried to touch him, reaching through the bars and tugging desperately at his clothes, as if to reassure herself that he was really there. “Desmond told us that you died!”
As her words burst forth Charlie drew a plastic key card from his pocket and used it to open the cell door. When he stepped inside Claire forgot herself completely and buried her face in him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders in a relieved hug.
“I knew you weren’t dead though -- I knew it!” she sobbed.
Charlie stood stiffly in her embrace until Claire released him. She stared at him in confusion.
“What happened to you Charlie?” she touched his face, hoping that he might lean in and kiss her and stop being so strange but instead he drew away from her touch. “What’s wrong?”
“Maybe you should sit,” was all he said, gesturing stiffly at the bench that Claire had woken up on.
As she stared at Charlie's blank face, Claire went suddenly very cold. What the hell was going on?
“I’d rather stand,” she said stubbornly, “if it’s all the same to you.”
Charlie rolled his eyes at her. “Okay fine. Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”
He took a seat and then gestured at the untouched tray of food.
“Why didn’t you eat this?”
“I didn’t know where it came from,” Claire said, crossing her arms uncomfortably. “Why would I eat it?”
“Because you’re hungry,” Charlie said simply.
“I'm not hungry.” Claire’s stomach gave a traitorous growl and Charlie smiled knowingly.
“Of course you aren’t,” he said condescendingly, then, “Are you sure that you don’t want to sit?”
Claire considered for a moment and then finally she sighed and nodded. Charlie moved up the bench to make room for her. When she was seated Charlie pointed at the tray that still sat on her opposite side.
“I made that,” he said. “So there’s nothing wrong with it, unless you count my cooking.”
The joke fell flat with the weight of bitterness. He sat expectantly, unsmiling, eyeing the food until Claire picked up a sandwich half and began to eat. When he was satisfied, he took a deep breath as if preparing himself for a long story. As he did Claire’s mind ran wild and confused like a spooked deer.
What could he possibly have to say that would explain all of this?
~*~
“It’s getting awfully quiet around here,” muttered Hurley.
Desmond didn’t respond. Since his return Hurley had taken to hanging around him nonstop, a very large but irritating shadow. At first the American was just distraught, seeking answers and comfort over the loss of his friend Charlie, and then after that he just wanted company. Claire’s departure had only added to his loneliness. So Desmond tolerated him politely, feeling at least partly to blame for Hurley’s solitude, although for reasons Desmond couldn’t fathom it appeared Hurley blamed himself as well. If not for Desmond’s vision Charlie and Claire might still be here, still stranded, but alive and together at least. He wasn’t sure what role Hurley had played in what had happened, yet the first thing his friend had said when Desmond relayed the tragic news was, this was all my fault.
Desmond put it down to grief and didn’t question, but that didn’t stop Hurley embarking on his own third degree like a rapid fire assault. After he recovered from the initial shock, Hurley wanted to know exactly what Desmond had known and when he had known it. Desmond told him all that he could; it didn’t matter anymore now anyway, there was nothing to gain in secrecy.
The damage was done.
They soaked up each other’s guilt and misery like a swim in a toxic stew, maintaining a distance from the rest of the camp; most had moved on from the news as quickly as yesterday’s gossip and were now preparing for their own rescues.
“Did I mention that Charlie left Aaron his ring?” Hurley asked Desmond as they sat on the beach. “Claire found it when she got back to camp. I think she had a feeling then that something happened. That was my first clue that Charlie knew. He did, didn’t he?”
“Aye,” sighed Desmond, tired of talking in circles.
Hurley went on, grabbing at conversational topics like they were a pile of sticks. “Claire must be almost to Fiji by now,” he said, although Desmond was certain Hurley had no idea how far Fiji actually was.
After that Hurley said something else, but all Desmond heard was Claire and the rest was drowned out by screams. Desmond looked sharply at Hurley, but the young man was chattering on as if he hadn’t heard them, and that was when Desmond knew that the screams were in his head.
“What is it, dude?” Hurley asked.
They were the screams of a young woman. He concentrated on them, trying to draw out the image. He saw Claire, dressed in the clothes she had left the island in, but she was trapped somewhere dark and empty. She was in tears, hysterical, screaming for Aaron. His mind’s eye scanned the room, hoping to absorb as much detail as he could before it was gone in a flash -- an intercom, a camera, an all too familiar Dharma symbol from an unfamiliar station. Whatever it was it wasn’t possible, couldn’t be, because they had all seen Claire get on that helicopter.
Unless...
“Desmond?” said Hurley, turning white. “I was talking about Claire before you bugged out. Is it Claire? Is something gonna happen?”
Desmond waited until the vision had cleared completely before he spoke. “I think Claire might still be on the island,” he said.
“What?” Hurley exclaimed. “How?”
Hurley got up and started following Desmond who was already heading across camp.
“I don’t think that helicopter was rescue,” Desmond called back. “I need to find Jack.”
~*~
Charlie spoke for ten minutes straight, explaining everything - the station, his near drowning and waking up in the station where they both now were - but something was still missing, and only after he’d finished his story did Claire realize what it was.
Charlie was different - hardened, embittered. And with a shock, Claire realised that despite the fact that he was sitting beside her, speaking to her quite civilly, he was channelling this new bitterness towards her.
“Why are you upset with me?” she asked abruptly and Charlie looked immediately wary.
“I don’t know what you’re on about,” he said evasively.
“Don’t play that game with me,” Claire snapped. “Why are you so angry at me?”
There was a long silence in which they glared at each other
“Because I was willing to die for you,” Charlie said quietly, his voice chillingly cold. “When I came back…I began to realise just how much of an idiot I’d been,” he shook his head, disgusted with himself. “Sacrificing my life for someone I barely even knew? For someone who wouldn’t have done the same for me? I was so unbelievably stupid.”
“How do you know I wouldn’t have done the same?” Claire protested. “You never asked me! I promised you that if you ever needed me…”
“I did though,” Charlie said flatly. “I needed you more than once Claire, and the only time you didn’t run in the other direction was when you thought you might lose me for good.”
“I only ran the first time because I didn’t know if you’d been using or not! How could I be sure?”
“That wasn’t the first time you ran from me,” Charlie shook his head again, angrily. “And I thought you knew me better than that Claire.”
“Well back then I didn’t!” Claire shouted. “Look I’m sorry okay? I screwed up. I wasn’t always there for you when you needed me. But, in my defence, you never bloody well told me when you needed me!”
“You should have known!” Charlie said angrily. “You should have known that I needed you the same way that I knew when you needed me! I always took care of you Claire and you never once took care of me. That’s why I went to my death - because I’d given up on us.”
“I - you’re lying!” Claire said, her throat dry as her heart hammered in her chest. “You loved me! That’s why you went down to the bloody Looking Glass! You thought that Desmond’s helicopter would save me and Aaron!”
“I’m not lying,” Charlie said coldly. “I gave up on you ever loving me - I figured it’d be less painful for both of us if I just disappeared.”
“How could you think that Charlie?” Claire whispered, horrified. “How could you even think that?”
“Well you certainly never told me otherwise,” Charlie scoffed. “What was I supposed to think?”
“I…well…well…” Claire grasped at straws. “How come you made the Others save me when the helicopter crashed? They don’t really need me, its Aaron they’ve always wanted…”
“It didn’t crash. You were brought here for a reason. You’re here for Aaron’s sake,” Charlie said flatly. “And because I honestly thought that you might be beneficial to their research. They’ve got a lot of questions for you.”
Claire reeled back like she’d been slapped. Never before had she heard Charlie speak in such a clinical way - especially not to her.
“I’m helping them now,” he said. “Aaron’s the first baby to be born on this island and that makes him special. They’ll want to examine you as well.”
Claire stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. “You would help them experiment on Aaron?”
There was a flash in his eyes for an instant and Claire swore she saw regret, but he hid it again quickly. Still, when he spoke, his tone was a bit softer. He lowered his voice, conscious of the cameras and leaned in towards her.
“I’m doing everything I can to try and take care of him - waylaying tests, making sure they’re safe,” he looked at her and allowed the tiniest smile to claim his face, “I’m even singing to him to stop him from fretting at being away from you.”
“I don’t believe you,” Claire said, tight lipped.
The smile faded and Charlie stood up. “Believe what you like Claire, but I’m doing my best to keep Aaron safe. You know that’s all I ever wanted to do.”
Claire would have believed that from the Charlie she once knew, but this one... she wasn’t even convinced that this was Charlie. Maybe he had really died and this was some imposter. Or maybe this was her Charlie but he was just being forced to do everything he was doing right now? She didn’t believe for a minute that he was a willing participant in all this.
“Finish eating,” Charlie said flatly from the doorway. “You’re gonna need your strength.”
Claire waited until he was gone before letting herself cry again.