The Paradox - Chapter Two
Title: The Paradox - Chapter Two
Authors: falafel_fiction, sapphire_child and pacejunkie
Character’s: Charlie/Claire, Liam, Penny, cameos from most of the rest of the Losties and numerous flashback characters
Rating: PG
Summary: Charlie chases a Scottish man through the rainy streets of London, which leads him to a fateful meeting in an antique shop. Six years later, he starts to experience strange dreams about being stranded on a mysterious island. As he discovers more about this island and its occupants, he begins to realise that he is living out two different lives simultaneously. What will happen when these two existences finally collide?
Disclaimer: Lost doesn’t belong to any of the three of us (sadly). The Paradox theory belongs to cylune9 and pacejunkie.
Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Three
~*~After his first week of withdrawal Charlie realised one of the main things motivating him to get clean was his desire to be done with rehab. If a slow gruelling detox was what it took to put an end to this excruciating and demeaning experience, then he was prepared to battle through it. Rehab was like running a long distance marathon that required him to jump through many hoops and over many hurdles before he could even see a glimpse of the finishing line. He had to run this race naked and exposed with a bunch of strangers gawking at him and shaking their heads.
Charlie had been put on a course of methadone, but it only served to take the sharpest edge off his ordeal which was compounded by the patronising counselling sessions and tedious lectures that he had to attend every week. He didn’t feel like he could stomach much more of this ‘12 steps’ bollocks. In his head Charlie had reduced the twelve steps to a simpler three step process: Step 1) admit to yourself that you are worthless bloody scum; Step 2) admit to everyone else that you are worthless bloody scum; and, Step 3) devote your life to making amends for being worthless bloody scum. That really seemed to be the gist of it. Charlie’s self esteem was so low that he was submitting willingly to the formula.
The other thing that kept him going was Liam’s unwavering support. Charlie had never felt such encouragement from his older brother. It gave him strength when he needed it most. Still he could have done with a little less of Liam’s reminiscing about his own withdrawal. His stories were enough to make Charlie want to run away screaming. He shuddered at Liam’s descriptions of the cold sweats, the headaches, the muscular cramps and the itchy blood.
His brother told him the worst part was the broken sleep and the nightmares. Charlie had to agree with him there. His dreams that week had been more vivid and disturbing than anything he had experienced. There were his dark dreams of being chased by a roaring creature made of black smoke that shook the trees around him. Then there were his squeamish dreams where he was forced to stand still while a swarm of bees crawled over his clammy trembling skin.
Liam had laughed grimly and assured Charlie that being chased by monsters or attacked by insects were among the textbook delusions that recovering drug addicts suffered with. Liam handed Charlie his copy of William Burroughs ‘Naked Lunch’, patted him on the back and warned him that this was what he was in for during the next few months.
Every three days Charlie was asked to share his dreams with a psychologist at the rehab clinic. In today’s session Charlie was telling his therapist about the bald guy with the scar over his eye - the man who Charlie liked to call ‘the Great White Hunter’.
“The hunter...” he began haltingly, “the hunter tells me that he is gonna let me ask him for my drugs three times. On the third time he is going to give them to me. He says it’s important that I have a choice. And there’s...there’s a boar caught in a net behind him. The hunter walks over to the pig and cuts its throat. It makes a terrible squealing sound. I look away and...” He fell silent and shrugged. “That’s all I can remember.”
His therapist frowned, pursing his lips. “This hunter...does he resemble your father at all?”
Charlie rolled his eyes. Why did these headshrinkers always want to read ‘daddy issues’ into your dreams?
“I guess he looks a bit like my dad. They are both bald guys...with stern faces.”
But this man isn’t my father, Charlie protested to himself. He’s a completely different person - and he’s real!
“Your brother Liam has told us that your father was a butcher,” the therapist remarked. “It’s interesting to me that when you see this bald man in your dreams he is often killing or skinning boars.” He tipped his head, sympathetically. “I understand that you and your brother had a very troubled relationship with your father. He had wanted you both to carry on his trade. He didn’t approve of your musical aspirations...”
“The hunter liked my music!” Charlie countered with the sudden remembrance. “He said that he recognised me from my band. He said he had both my albums. He promised me that if I handed him my drugs then he would find my guitar...”
The psychiatrist sighed and smiled at him in a kindly fashion.
“Charlie, I think what this dream is telling you is that you would gladly trade your heroin for your father’s love and acceptance. I think it has been haunting you for a long time that he took such a strong disliking to your chosen career path.”
Charlie flushed. “Yeah...I guess that makes sense.”
The shrink leaned forward, still smiling. “Don’t be ashamed, Charlie. Part of rehabilitation is working out what personal issues lie at the root of your drug problem. Let’s talk some more about that other man who is helping you. What did you call him...the heroic doctor?” He chucked for a moment over Charlie’s childish nicknames. “Now in our last session I asked you to draw me a picture of this man...”
Charlie nodded and took out his notebook. Drawing pictures and keeping dream diaries was part of the homework given to him by the clinic. It made him feel like he was five years old again. He opened his jotter on the page where he had drawn a crude sketch of the doctor. He was a tall man with a lean muscular build and handsome features. He would have been clean cut were it not for the wild tattoos that covered one of his arms.
The therapist’s eyes flashed when he saw the picture. He smiled knowingly.
“Now...who would you say this man looks like...?”
Charlie sighed, realising the answer that he was fishing for.
“I guess he looks kinda like Liam...” he conceded.
But he’s not Liam, he brooded quietly to himself. He’s this other guy...
“A more idealised version of Liam perhaps?” the shrink said considerately. “An older brother figure who is capable of looking after you and helping you through your withdrawal sickness. Tell me...did you dream about the doctor again last night?”
Charlie nodded. “In my dream...I’m crawling down this narrow tunnel. The doctor is trapped inside this dark cave. His arm is injured. There isn’t much air. We are trapped together and we think we are going to die. But then I see a little shaft of light. I start digging towards this light, out of the cave and...”
His sentence faded into a pause. His therapist was already nodding sagely.
“Yes Charlie, of course...” he said gently. “You and Liam were trapped together in a very dark place for a long time. It could have been the death of both of you. Isn’t it interesting that it is you who finds the way out of the dark cave and saves the doctor?” He raised his eyebrows. “I know that you always wanted to help your brother, Charlie. Liam has confessed to us that he was only able to make a fresh start because he stole from you. He was able to recover because of you. And now you are hoping he will return the favour and help you to get clean. Am I right, Charlie?”
He swallowed. Listening to the shrink’s analysis made it all seem so simple. He remembered how the doctor had given him an aspirin and told the rest of the camp he had the flu. The doctor was always looking out for him...just like Liam had promised to.
“Do not be disturbed by these dreams, Charlie. They are the minds way of telling you that you want to get better.”
“I do want to get better...” Charlie affirmed. “I want to get clean...for her.”
The therapist drew a tantalised breath and glanced down at his notes.
“I see. I’m guessing that this is the pregnant girl you keep referring back to?” Charlie nodded quickly, earning yet another patronising smile from the shrink. “Tell me again, Charlie...what is it that you like so much about this girl?”
He shrugged bashfully, shifting in his chair. He was unwilling to state the obvious reasons; that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, that he felt like he was falling in love with her. His fingers twitched restlessly under the table.
“I dunno...I worry about her. She sits alone on the beach every day, scribbling in her diary. It’s like the other people are scared of her… or, more like they are scared of the responsibility. Her baby will be coming soon. She needs somebody to take care of her. A few days ago she fainted because of the heat. So now I bring her a bottle of water every morning.” He sighed. “I just want to be there for her...if she needs me.”
Charlie raised his head. His therapist’s expression had become very serious.
“Charlie, I think this pregnant girl represents something very important to you. She represents what you desire. You want a wife and a child like your brother, Liam. You want a family to take care of. This target is within your reach, Charlie. You’ve told me that you had a girlfriend and regular work in London for a time. The only reason you lost these things is because of your drug problem. Once you have recovered there will be nothing to stop you finding a nice girl and a steady job. You will have so many opportunities. I think this is precisely the goal you should be focusing on...”
Charlie’s eyes brightened. “So...so I should keep focusing on the pregnant girl?”
The shrink’s smile wavered. “Well...not that girl, obviously. You must remember, Charlie, she isn’t real. She only exists in your mind. But you should focus very strongly on what she represents. Let her be a beacon to you -- a light at the end of the tunnel.”
Charlie nodded rapidly. The lesson of the day was clear; if he got himself cleaned up and healthy, then he could look forward to having a girlfriend, a family, a normal life. Charlie really did want to focus his energies on this goal. There was only one problem. He knew that the pregnant girl was real. And as long as this girl remained in his dreams there would be no other woman who could hold a candle to her.
He rose to his feet and made his way to the door. Their session was finished for the day.
“Oh Charlie, one more thing...” his therapist called to him.
He turned nervously, still hoping the man might tell him these dreams were more than his drug-addled delusions.
“Liam has told us how you were almost caught up in that terrible plane crash,” he stated solemnly. “I wanted to ask you not to dwell on this too much. These tragic events happen every day. They are just random accidents and it was only a random choice that prevented you from being involved. Count yourself lucky if you like. But don’t read too much into it. There is no such thing as fate, Charlie...”
His stomach clenched. Part of him wanted to believe the shrink...
In his heart he knew that he was wrong.
~*~
It was just over a week and a half since he had arrived in Sydney and Charlie was making a batch of sandwiches for lunch when the cravings hit him.
Charlie had somewhat lost his appetite since he’d gone into rehab - Liam had said it was perfectly normal and reassured him that he’d get it back in time. Despite all the tasty offerings in his brother’s kitchen however, Charlie had actually started to lose weight - he didn’t seem to be able to keep much down and there were a lot foods that he couldn’t even smell without feeling ill.
Which is why he was so surprised that when he opened the jar of peanut butter to spread on the sandwiches he got distinctly light headed and his mouth was suddenly watering like Niagara falls had decided to come cascading over his tongue. He swallowed heavily and smacked his lips as he spread the condiment carefully across the bread. Even Meghan seemed to be watching him strangely from her high chair as he practically drooled all over the kitchen bench. After he’d cut Meghan’s sandwich into triangles and then cut the crusts off (the way she liked them) he put her plate in front of her and she began to eat her lunch in the sort of clumsy, endearing way that only toddlers can achieve.
“What culinary delights have we got today?” Karen asked, entering suddenly and beginning to make her own sandwich. “Ooh peanut butter...”
While she sat down, Charlie surreptitiously loaded the knife up again and slathered a second, thicker layer of peanut butter onto his own bread before taking a seat across the table from his sister-in-law. He set eagerly to his own sandwich and before he knew it, it was all gone. Disappointed, he headed back into the kitchen to make himself a second sandwich, once again slathering liberal amounts of peanut butter onto the bread.
“Somebody’s hungry today,” Karen noted with amusement and Charlie shrugged, idly tickling Meghan as she ate.
“I seem to have developed a weird craving for peanut butter. Who am I to argue with my stomach?”
“Peanut butter is Meghan’s favourite,” Karen said, smiling at her giggling daughter. To prove her mothers point, she beamed at Charlie, the sticky condiment smeared all over her bright face and on her hands. “She’s always loved it.”
“I like it too,” Charlie said thickly around a mouthful of sandwich. “Liam and I once ate it straight out of the jar and mum caught us and sent us to bed without any supper.” Karen laughed and Charlie grinned back at her.
“I’m just glad that you’ve got your appetite back again,” Karen admitted. “Even Liam was worried for a day or two.”
“Well,” Charlie shrugged. “I’ve pretty much lived off nothing except bread, water and methadone for over a week now so I’m hardly surprised. I might’ve just faded away to nothing if I wasn’t too careful.”
“Well if peanut butter is your thing at the moment then you just eat as much of it as you want,” Karen said graciously. “We can always buy more.”
“Thanks Karen,” Charlie said, rising from his seat once again. He hesitated for a moment, then, blushing deeply, he headed back to the counter and began to make himself a third sandwich. Karen merely laughed it off as she went to stack her plate in the dishwasher and then began to help feed Meghan the last few pieces of her own, rather decimated sandwich.
“So how’s your sleep been going?” Karen asked as Charlie sat down again. “Are you still having nightmares?”
“Not so much at the moment,” Charlie said. “Thankfully. I’ve actually been dreaming more about…her lately.” Karen looked up, intrigued and Charlie felt a blush spread up his cheeks. “You know,” he said, trying not to grin and failing dismally. “The pregnant girl?”
“Ooh really?” Karen grinned at him. “Do tell!”
Charlie stared down at his sandwich so that Karen couldn’t see the silly grin that had settled on his face as he began to speak.
“Well…we were doing her washing down on this beach. I was doing most of the work because she couldn’t bend down enough - and she was wearing this adorable bucket hat to stop her face from getting burnt.”
“Cute,” Karen said. “What else?”
“Not much,” Charlie shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich. “I was trying to convince her to move somewhere safer - to some caves or something. I said that the beach was too sunny for her but she wouldn’t listen to me, said she wanted to stay there for when we all got rescued.”
“And you couldn’t convince her to go with you?” Karen looked troubled. “Does that mean that you’re getting discouraged? Do you feel like you’re not going anywhere?”
“I dunno what it means,” Charlie scratched his head and sighed. “But then I was walking around the beach looking for something. I just kept on thinking ‘if I can find this for her then she’ll come with me to the caves’. But I just couldn’t find it.”
Karen touched his arm sympathetically. “Don’t worry Charlie. The dream is probably just a projection of your insecurities about being able to stay clean or something equally simple. You just have to believe in yourself. We all do.”
“Yeah,” Charlie smiled thinly. “I know. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Karen smiled at him. “Thank you for making lunch for Meghan by the way - I was unloading the washing machine. I don’t suppose you’d watch her while I hang it out? She always gets under my feet.”
“Sure,” Charlie said. “We’ll go watch cartoons or something.”
“Put on ‘Finding Nemo’,” Karen instructed as she headed for the back door. “She loves that movie.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Charlie stood and picked Meghan up out of her high chair. “Come here beautiful girl - you’ve got to go watch cartoons with your Uncle Charlie.”
Meghan clung to his neck blissfully and Charlie felt a surge of affection for her until he realised that she was actually reaching for the remainder of his sandwich. “Hey!” he protested, snatching it out of her reach. Meghan stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes and then reached out for his sandwich again.
“I think not,” Charlie carried Meghan over to the kitchen bench. “I’ll make you your own if you want another one but you’re not having mine.” When he went to take another slice of bread out of the packet however, Meghan started to pout and instead made grabby hands towards the jar of peanut butter. “What?” he picked up the jar and let her take it from him. “You just want the peanut butter?”
“Yeh!” Meghan nodded and Charlie abandoned his sandwich with a sigh. “Well,” he said heavily. “I suppose we can have some. Just don’t go telling your mum that I’m teaching you bad habits.”
~*~
“He ended up eating four jars!” Karen was trying her best not to laugh too much but Liam certainly wasn’t helping matters and Charlie was red in the face from the effort of keeping his mirth under control. “I came into the lounge room and he was practically in a coma on the couch with Meghan next to him watching ‘Nemo’ - both of them stuffed to bursting and there were empty jars all over the floor. It was absolutely adorable. I wish I’d had a camera!”
“Charlie...” Liam began, still laughing. “Charlie, you do realise that you’re a recovering drug addict right? You’re not pregnant.”
“My sudden cravings make even less sense to me than they do to you guys,” Charlie told them both, shaking his head in amazement. “I even dreamt about peanut butter! Or at least I daydreamed about it - I’m not entirely sure that I was completely asleep. I brought some to the pregnant girl - oh! And I managed to convince her to move to the caves with me too Karen!”
“Oooh did you?” Karen gushed. “That’s wonderful Charlie!”
“Caves?” Liam frowned, confused. “What caves?”
“I dunno,” Charlie shrugged. “Apparently it’s safer there or something. Whatever. The point is that there was a positive outlook to the dream right?”
“True,” Liam grinned. “Your headshrinker will be thrilled.”
“I’m sure he will,” Charlie grinned. “I’m just glad that I’ve stopped dreaming about monsters to be honest.”
“I told you it’d get easier,” Liam said encouragingly. “Didn’t I?”
“Yeah,” Charlie said earnestly. “You did. And if it wasn’t for your support - both of you - I think I would’ve already given up by now.”
Liam waved away his praise, embarrassed. “I’m just doing what I should have done ages ago.”
“Nemo!” Meghan demanded suddenly and all the adults turned to her.
“Not tonight little one,” Karen said. “You need to have a bath before I tuck you into bed.”
“Nemo?” Meghan pouted as her mother picked her up out of her chair.
“Can you two please do the dishes?” Karen requested around her daughters flailing limbs. “By the time I’ve put this one to bed it’ll be just about bed time for me too - I’m wrecked.”
“Sure,” Liam stood and planted a kiss on his wife’s lips before smoothing down Meghan’s hair. “I might stay up a while yet but I’ll give her a kiss goodnight if you call me when you’re tucking her in.”
“Okay,” Karen went to leave but Meghan reached out for Charlie and began to make quiet noises of protest. “I think she wants a cuddle,” Karen rolled her eyes. Charlie stood uncertainly and allowed Meghan to put her small arms around his neck.
“Nu-nigh!” she said cheerfully, planting a sloppy kiss on Charlie’s cheek. He grinned as she was carried forcibly from the room by her mother, waving all the way. He waved back and then turned back to the task at hand.
“You seem in much better spirits today,” Liam noted as they cleared away the table together. “Is it because you’ve started eating again?”
“I dunno what it is,” Charlie said, shaking his head, still unable to wipe the smile from his face. “But I just…feel really happy today. Maybe it’s because I’ve been spending so much time with Meghan.”
Liam smiled. “She’s like a little ray of sunshine isn’t she?”
“Absolutely,” Charlie agreed. “She’s got a beautiful nature.”
“Just like her mother,” Liam said fondly.
Just like the girl from my dreams, Charlie thought wistfully.
Once they’d finished cleaning up Liam asked Charlie if he wanted to stay up a while and watch some television but Charlie politely declined.
“Cheers Li but I think I might just pack it in for today,” he squeezed his older brothers shoulder. “I don’t want to push my luck by having a bad night sleep. I’ll probably be grumpy again in the morning if I stay up.”
“Well if you change your mind I’ll be down here for a while yet,” Liam said distractedly, his eyes fixed on the opening credits to some sort of sitcom.
“Night Li,”
“Night baby brother,”
Charlie curled up in bed that night feeling truly content for the first time since he’d gotten to Sydney. Things seemed to finally be going right - thanks to his daily dose of methadone his withdrawal symptoms were practically nonexistent, his relationship with his brother had never before been this strong and he was really starting to feel like his dreams were pointing him in a positive direction.
His final thought as he drifted off to sleep was of the pregnant girl. After the dreams he’d had earlier on in the day about her he was hoping for more of the same tonight.
Little did he know that once again his dreams were about to take a turn for the worse.
~*~
The beginning of his dream was little more than a confused flickering between scenes - walking through the jungle with the pregnant girl, the two of them smiling and laughing together as they set down bedding in the caves, holding a golf club in his hands underneath a wide blue sky. He hit the ball carefully but to his dismay it missed the hole by barely a few inches.
Dejection and shame washed over him as he trudged wearily back to the caves again only to be greeted cheerfully by the pregnant girl. He snapped at her and she recoiled from him instantly, making him feel guilty.
“I’m sorry,” he apologised. “I lost the golf tournament.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she looked sad for him but Charlie still didn’t feel soothed like he normally would have done. “Maybe next time you’ll win?”
“Maybe.”
The girl smiled half heartedly at him before turning back to her diary.
Screams filled his ears as he held a pair of pale hands covered in blood. Shocked, Charlie tried to wake himself up again but the dream seemed loathe to let him go. It dragged him in even deeper -colours and images flashing through his mind at a million miles an hour.
Cups of tea…the girl staring at him like he was a stranger…his own fist slamming angrily against a tree trunk - God you’re an idiot Charlie - screams filled his ears before they faded into sobs, then silence as he walked, a blanket in his hands and a nervous twist in his stomach...
“If you want to close your eyes I’ll be here all night.”
“These are textbook anxiety nightmares...” the doctor was saying.
“It’s not all in her head,” Charlie insisted.
Charlie gaped as the girl moaned and gripped his hand tightly.
“Okay, we need to time the contractions,” he was babbling. “That’s what you do - time the contractions, okay? One sugar plum fairy, two sugar plum fairy-”
“Charlie!” she gaped at him like he was insane. “GET JACK!”
Green, green, green as he ran, panting through the jungle. Tropical heat and dripping sweat and...he was back in the clearing.
WHAT THE HELL?!
“It hurts!” the pregnant girl moaned and Charlie reached for her hand again and then she was breathing heavily, almost panting with the pain. “I’m not supposed to be here!”
I’m not supposed to be here either, Charlie thought desperately, struggling against the unyielding stranglehold of his dream. Why the hell can’t I wake up?!
“Someone promised me it would be different,” she was telling him now, calmer. “His name was Richard Malkin. He was a psychic.”
“A psychic?”
The girl ducked her head. “I know, it’s embarrassing.”
“Maybe he knew? I mean…if you wanted it bad enough, you know, if he had the gift - and I-I believe some people do - then maybe he knew, Claire.”
Claire?
The scene wavered again and grew dark and Charlie immediately began to fight - this time to stay in the dream. He forced himself back into it, feeling like he was pushing his way through half-set jelly. Through the thick darkness surrounding him, he could hear her talking but he just couldn’t see her…
“He knew about the plane...what was gonna happen...”
Claire, she said her name was Claire…but…dammit why can’t I see her! Where is she? Is she okay? Is she still having contractions?
A world of green, a flash of gold, the warmth of skin underneath his hand…
“Birthing emergency averted. I told you I’d take care of you.”
Is she okay?
And the picture was complete again.
“Thanks Charlie,” the pregnant girl - Claire he thought with amazement - smiled up at him and then she was guiding his hands to her stomach to let him feel the baby kick. “He just kicked. Here...”
“Ethan?”
And suddenly there was another person in the dream - a man, lean and tall, staring at them both from across the way. Charlie’s breath caught in his throat.
“Where’s Jack?”
The girl was screaming again, there was the feel of rain and all was black, black, black.
Charlie panicked, trying desperately to get free, lashing out, turning in frantic circles on uneven ground...
And then there was something around his neck - tighter and tighter it pulled until he could barely breathe. Then with a sudden, terrifying yank, his feet left the ground and he screamed out in pain - a scream that was almost immediately choked off from the pressure around his neck. He panicked, flailing instinctively, kicking his feet in the air as he swung in a violent circle from the noose. His hands were at his throat, tugging ineffectually, trying to give him enough space to breathe…to breathe!
There was laughter, high and cold from below and then the world swirled into darkness. Charlie felt himself begin to slip away, and for a moment he was actually glad.
Is that what dying is like? He wondered. If it is then it’s really not so bad after all…
But just as he’d decided that he’d quite like to stay in this comfortable, quiet darkness there was a loud bang, his mouth opened and his lungs welcomed in a flood of cold, painful, wonderful air. He caught a flash of the doctor and the brunette woman hovering above him as he took his first breath...
And then he woke up - screaming.
Within moments, Liam was barrelling through the doorway to his bedroom, his pyjamas askew and a cricket bat in his hands.
“Charlie? Charlie! What the hell’s the matter?”
Charlie couldn’t even answer. His entire body was shaking and he realised presently that his sheets were absolutely drenched in his own sweat. He pawed at his throat making ineffectual whimpering noises, trying desperately to convey what he’d seen to his brother. His oesophagus still felt tight, constricted, like he really had been strung up from a tree.
“Charlie?” Liam said, looking truly frightened now. “Are you alright baby brother?”
“N-n-no,” Charlie finally managed to stutter. Vaguely he realised that he was crying although he didn’t remember starting. Now it seemed that he couldn’t stop either.
“Jesus Christ,” Liam dropped the cricket bat and was at Charlie’s side in an instant, pulling his younger brother into an embrace. Charlie gratefully closed his eyes and leant heavily against his brother, breathing shallowly through his mouth. “What the hell happened Charlie?”
“Dream,” Charlie managed to gasp. “I had this…this dream. The pregnant girl - Claire - she was in trouble and I couldn’t…and the doctor didn’t believe me…and then Ethan hung me up from a tree!”
“Who the hell is Ethan?” Liam pulled back to look Charlie in the eye. “And what do you mean they hung you up? You mean like on a harness?”
“No Li,” Charlie tried to snap but found that it hurt his throat too much. “Not like on a harness. He strung me up from the neck - he tried to kill me.”
“God,” Liam said, still looking somewhat shocked. “Just as well it was a dream eh?”
Charlie stared at him for a moment, not really comprehending the word, and then he laughed.
“A dream,” he echoed. “Right.”
“Come on,” Liam tugged him out of bed. “I’ll make you a hot drink.”
Down in the kitchen Liam spooned liberal amounts of chocolate powder into a glass as he heated up milk in the microwave. Charlie stood there awkwardly, twitching involuntarily and rubbing distractedly at his neck. Liam seemed to notice his restlessness but he didn’t say anything until they were both sitting at the kitchen bench.
“Look, Charlie,” he started tentatively. “I know that having these dreams can’t be all that fun for you…”
“Too bloody right,” Charlie muttered and tried to sip at the hot chocolate. It trickled down his throat, making him cough a little through the residual ache in his neck.
“Well I just want you to know that…I’m here for you,” Liam said quietly. “I’m always here for you Charlie. After all, you’re still my baby brother,” he grinned at him. “Just like back when I used to let you sleep with me when we were kids and you had a nightmare.”
Charlie rolled his eyes, embarrassed, but didn’t say anything.
“And you can talk to me,” Liam continued, almost painfully earnest now. “About this stuff. I know what it’s like you know? I went through that methadone bollocks as well and I know how much it sucks.”
“I know Li,” Charlie rasped out. “I appreciate it - really I do. I know it can’t be all that fantastic having a recovering heroin addict as a house guest...”
“You’re my brother,” Liam said defensively. “I don’t care what you are - I still love you and you are always welcome in my home. I’ll always be around to help you out.”
Charlie felt a flash of bitterness and he echoed back to his words from barely a fortnight ago - you never looked out for me!
Liam hadn’t always been a perfect role model for him - and he hadn’t always been eager to offer his help on the rare occasions when Charlie did ask for it. But how could he begrudge him that now when he was fully supporting him while he got clean? It was ungrateful and spiteful and Charlie didn’t want to be either of those things - least of all to his brother.
“Yeah I know,” Charlie sighed and then finally looked up and smiled slightly. “Thanks.”
Liam smiled back at him and then rose to his feet.
“I hate to do this to you but I’m going to have to go back to bed for a while mate - I didn’t realise that I’m starting work earlier today. But if you need me…”
“I’ll come wake you up,” Charlie promised then grimaced. “I should probably write down what I can remember in my dream diary anyway - my therapist is going to love analysing it.”
“Alright,” Liam seemed satisfied with that. “Goodnight Charlie.”
“Night Li,” Charlie returned and then added, “Love you.”
Liam paused, surprised, but then he smiled. “I love you too. Sleep well.”
Charlie waited until Liam was upstairs before he made his move to his brother’s home office. He settled down at the desk with his hot chocolate and began to scribble down in his journal everything that he remembered about his dream.
-I said the pregnant girls name when I was talking to her! It’s Claire!
-V v involved dream this time - and long! Couldn’t even wake myself up like I normally can. V weird
-Lost a game of golf, came back to caves again (Claire has def. moved to caves)
-Claire having nightmares(?) looked after her, seemed to help a little bit (YES!)
-Doctor again - didn’t believe me when I said that Claire wasn’t imagining things (git)
-Claire got upset, headed back to the beach. Went to stop her, started having contractions (her, not me)
-Claire mentioned some psychic she went and saw (Richard Malkin)
-Creepy guy (Ethan?) interrupted moment with me and Claire. Felt the baby kick! Brilliant.
-Got hung from a tree (really, really, really bloody scary! Neck still hurt when I woke up)
When he’d written it all down, Charlie put down his pen and stared at the words on the page blankly. He could already figure out exactly what his therapist was going to say - that deep down he was still insecure about not only getting clean but also staying clean and trying to gain people’s trust again.
As for the hanging…well even he didn’t know what that was about. What he did know was that his dreams - fragmented as they were - were becoming clearer and clearer. He knew what the pregnant girl’s name was now - Claire. Going back over his notes again he suddenly remembered one bit that he hadn’t written down.
After she’d mentioned the psychic, Claire had said something about him knowing what was going to happen, about the plane…
Charlie reached down and turned the computer on, a sneaking suspicion creeping up on him. Once it had opened up, he logged onto the internet and when the default search browser came up he quickly typed in ‘Oceanic Flight 815’ and then watched with bated breath as the results came up. To his surprise, there were quite a few matches - the official Oceanic site being the first on the list.
Scanning a little further along in the results he noted a scatter of blog entries, a site about something called the Hanso foundation, several conspiracy websites that were claiming everything from alien abduction to secret government conspiracies, a collection of links to news bulletins and…a memorial site.
Charlie hurriedly clicked on the link, his mouth dry as he waited for the home page to load. It was a low-tech site but even at a glance Charlie could see that the content on it was going to be easy enough to go through. There was very few pages including what appeared to be a copy of the flight manifest (which he reasoned was probably either fake or obtained illegally), a plea for funds to help aid the search for the plane and an online memorial page where people could leave messages about their loved ones.
Charlie tried the flight manifest link first and was relieved to find that somebody had taken what looked like the official flight manifest and added onto it. He went down the list, searching carefully for the girl from his dream. He knew her name now, as well as the fact that she originated from Australia and that she was flying alone. To his great surprise, there were very few Australian’s on the flight - and those that were seemed to be either too old to be the girl in his dream or else they were travelling with their family. Finally, just when his head was beginning to hurt, he found her.
Name: Littleton, Claire
Date of Birth: 27/10/1982
Place of Origin: Sydney, Australia
“Yes…” he hissed through his teeth triumphantly and then quickly backtracked, hoping that somebody had left a message for her up on the memorial page. It took him a fair while to sift his way through the backlog but eventually he ran across a handful of tributes, mainly from what appeared to be her old school friends. He read through them quickly, pausing only when he discovered a very short one signed from someone called Rachel.
Claire - I miss you so much every day, my beautiful, sweet friend. I’ll always remember your gorgeous smile and I hope that you and your baby are together now wherever you are. I pray every day that you’ll both make it home again safely. Love Rachel
“You and your baby,” Charlie muttered. “She was pregnant.”
Clattering to his feet, he left the browser open and all but ran to the cupboard where the phone books were kept and began flipping frantically through the White Pages until he reached the L’s. There were twenty-three Littleton’s listed in the Sydney area. Charlie made his way over to the phone with the book in hand and he had already started dialling the first number when he realised that it was far too early for anybody to be awake and willing to speak to him.
Feeling a little disappointed, he retired to the kitchen table and worked on transcribing all the names, addresses and phone numbers onto a piece of paper with the first writing implement on hand - which just so happened to be one of Meghan’s crayons. Satisfied, he folded it up, tucked it into the pocket of his dressing gown and tip toed back upstairs.
He didn’t sleep but rather lay awake, excitement coursing through him. Was he finally going to figure out who this Claire girl was? She had been in his dreams every night for weeks now, and he was really starting to feel like his connection to her was growing. And what of this Ethan character? What had he wanted from her?
“Claire,” he whispered out loud to the ceiling, trying out the way her name felt in his mouth. It rolled over his tongue comfortably, as though he’d said her name a thousand times before. “Claire Littleton. Littleton. Claire. Claire. Hello Claire. Claire.”
He was still muttering her name to himself when his radio alarm went off at seven-thirty.