Fic: Saved
title: Saved
characters: Charlie/Claire + Desmond + Hurley
rating: R for situations and language
warning: 2586 words of ANGST. This is not a happy story. Contrary to what the title suggests, Charlie does die at the end. :( There’s a whole lot of angst, plus a bit of graphic imagery.
spoilers: through episode 3.21 - Greatest Hits
disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, I just like writing about them every now and then.
feedback: always always welcome and greatly appreciated.
summary: “You were supposed to save him!”
Aaron was getting heavier by the minute. Claire shifted him on her hip, out of breath from walking so far and carrying him for so long. They were almost back to camp, but she had no idea what state their tent city would be in when they reached it. Those who had stayed behind to set off the dynamite would have gotten rid of any bodies, or at least moved them away from the tents, but they wouldn’t have had time to rebuild anything.
Hurley tapped her on the shoulder. He looked sad, but Claire didn’t know why; they’d won the battle, hadn’t they?
“D’you want me to take him for a while?” he asked, stroking Aaron’s arm. The infant smiled and reached for Hurley’s long, curly hair.
“Thank you, Hurley. He’s getting a bit heavy for me.” Claire kissed her baby’s forehead and handed him to Hurley, who cradled him close against his chest. Aaron loved Hurley, loved his hair especially, but Claire knew that seeing Charlie again would brighten his smile. It would brighten hers too.
Claire allowed herself a faint smile at that thought and continued walking beside Hurley. They were getting close, now. Another hill, another patch of jungle, and they’d be back on their beach.
“I wonder if Charlie’s back yet,” Claire said brightly, trying to raise Hurley’s obviously low spirits. “He shouldn’t be gone too long, if all he had to do was flip a switch, right?”
Hurley nodded slowly. “And… he’ll be happy to see Aaron again after all this. And you. He loves you, y’know?”
Claire’s smile widened. “Yeah. I love him too. Took me a while to realize it, but I do. I can’t imagine what I’d have done-with Aaron and everything-if he hadn’t been there for me.”
***
The first thing Claire noticed when they reached the camp was that someone was in her tent. She could see feet beneath the low-hanging tarp. She turned to Hurley and reached for Aaron, then hurried to her small living space. She was pleased to see that it wasn’t blown up.
“Charlie!” she said, pushing back the tarp. Her face fell when she saw that it wasn’t Charlie sitting in her tent, but Desmond. “Where is he?” she asked him, looking back over her shoulder at the people dispersing around the beach.
“Why don’t you put the baby down, Claire,” Desmond said quietly. “It’s been a long day, hasn’t it? I’m sure he’s tired.”
“I wanted to let Charlie see him before I put him down for a nap,” Claire explained, still looking for a blonde thatch of hair among the crowd.
“Claire, put Aaron to bed.”
The tone of his voice made Claire stop and turn around very slowly. Desmond wasn’t smiling, she realized. He wasn’t happy, which meant…
“No.”
“Claire, please put him down.”
She suddenly knew why Desmond wanted her to put her baby to sleep. She wasn’t going to; she refused to believe what the action would mean.
“No, Charlie will want to see him. Where is he, Desmond?”
“Hurley!” Desmond called loudly. When the man approached, he continued, “Take Aaron for a few minutes, will you, mate?”
Hurley looked torn, but finally nodded and reached for the infant. Claire’s hands tightened around him.
“No, where is Charlie?”
“Claire, let me take him.”
“No.”
Hurley’s eyes flicked to Desmond, who was looking down at his feet. “If I see him,” Hurley began slowly, “I’ll let him have Aaron, alright?”
Finally, Claire relented. Her breath was coming harder now. She was almost afraid that she might hyperventilate soon.
“Thank you, Hurley,” Desmond said softly as Hurley left them alone. “Claire…”
“No. Don’t you try-Where is Charlie, Desmond?”
“He’s gone, Claire.”
“What do you mean, ‘gone’? He told me…”
“Charlie died, Claire.”
Claire felt her knees buckle and Desmond’s arms wrap around her. She clung to his shoulders to hold herself up. Charlie died, Charlie died, Charlie died… Desmond’s voice echoed painfully in her head.
“No, he didn’t. He didn’t. He told me he was safe. He said not to worry. He…”
“Claire, stop this. I saw it with my own eyes. I’m sorry, Claire, but he’s gone.”
“No. No. You were supposed to protect him.” Claire pushed away from Desmond. “You were supposed save him! You said he’d be safe!”
Tears blurred Claire’s vision, but she struck out at Desmond anyway. Her small fist connected with his chest, but he didn’t recoil. She hit him again, again, with both hands. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and, she noticed when she looked up, so were Desmond’s.
“I’m sorry, Claire. I’m so sorry. He chose to do this. Charlie did it to save you and your baby. He just wanted to protect you,” Desmond soothed, his voice breaking. “It was his choice, Claire. Charlie died a hero.”
“No! You said you would save him! You promised me!” Claire screamed, her voice breaking.
“I’m sorry. Claire, I’m so sorry.”
“You bastard, Desmond,” Claire moaned, letting his arms envelop her. “You bastard.”
He held her for a long time, until her tears had finally ceased and her breaths were returning to normal. Claire leaned away, wiping frantically at her eyes. Desmond reached into his pocket.
“He told me to give you this, Claire.” Desmond held out a single folded sheet of paper.
Claire touched it gingerly, but didn’t take it until Desmond nodded at her. She unfolded it and saw the first word: #5.
“What is this?”
“He said it was a list of the five greatest moments of his life,” Desmond explained quietly.
Claire turned back to the paper. The thick black sharpie lines held everything that Charlie had wanted to tell her. The strokes of the marker were the last of Charlie’s colorful, expressive personality that she would ever experience.
She could feel the tears running down her face again, but she made sure that none of them fell onto the precious sheet of paper. When she reached #1 on the list, her control broke and she began sobbing. Desmond pulled her back against his chest again, rocking her and petting her hair soothingly.
“Charlie said to tell you that he loved you, Claire. He said, ‘Tell Claire that she was the best thing that ever happened to me, Desmond. Tell her that I love her more than my own life. Tell her that she changed me, Des. That I’m a better person for having known her. For having loved her. And that every morning, when I looked at her beautiful smile, I felt reborn. Tell Claire I love her.’”
Desmond’s voice had changed as he spoke. His Scottish accent softened, morphed into a subtle blend of Scottish and Mancunian. Claire knew that Charlie was speaking through Desmond just then, and the thought made her cling ever tighter to Desmond’s body.
“Oh, God, Charlie,” she moaned, “Charlie… I love you.”
***
The hand swung out, catching Charlie right in the face again. His head jerked backwards at the impact. Desmond winced in sympathy. He quietly swam to the opposite end of the moon pool and carefully pulled himself out of the water, trying to make as little noise as possible.
The two women didn’t appear to notice him. Their full concentration was on Charlie. Desmond slipped through one of the doors that lined the walls to find a weapon of some kind. He knew that Charlie would only be able to handle a finite amount of the torture being inflicted upon him.
“Who are you?” one of the girls asked sternly.
“Mickey Mouse,” Charlie replied. Desmond could hear the grin in his voice and he smiled sadly, knowing what would soon come. “AAHHH, FUCK,” Charlie screamed. The sound reverberated around the large area, the echo strangely distorted by the water.
“Who are you?” they asked again, even more forcefully.
Desmond grabbed the first thing he saw: a short length of pipe. He quickly went back to the pool room and scanned the area for other people besides the two women. He saw none.
His eyes were drawn to Charlie, bound to a chair in a pool of yellow light. His nose and mouth were bleeding and bruises were already forming around his throat and on his cheekbones. His skin was so pale, his grey eyes so frightened. One of the women grabbed a handful of Charlie’s hair and jerked his head backwards while the other held a knife to his throat.
Desmond wanted to move, to scream, to distract the women, but he knew that now wasn’t the time. He knew he had to wait.
Charlie’s muscles bulged beneath the ropes, but he couldn’t move his hands no matter how hard he tried. Desmond watched in horror as the blonde woman lashed out and stabbed Charlie in the side. The knife went deep, and when she pulled it out, her hand was covered in blood. Charlie screamed again. Now was the time.
Desmond ran towards the two women, shouting unintelligibly. They whirled around, surprised, and didn’t have time to defend themselves. Desmond swung the pipe, taking the blonde down. The other dove towards the wall and frantically pushed buttons on a small control panel. Bells rang out, alarms sounded, and strong metal doors began to clang shut automatically.
Desmond saw another metal chair like the one Charlie was tied to, and he kicked it towards one of the quickly-closing doors. He knew it was the right door. A moment later, the other woman crumpled to the floor, lifeless. Desmond dropped the pipe. The loud clang echoed piercingly even over the noise of the alarms. He rushed to Charlie’s aid.
“Charlie, Charlie, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he said, untying and cutting the ropes that bound the smaller man.
Charlie’s breath was coming in fast, sharp bursts, and each movement looked like it pained him greatly. “Des. The switch. Find it?”
“No, Charlie. I can’t.”
“But. Why did-What was the point, then?”
“You don’t have to do it, Charlie. I can bring you back to the boat, get you to shore. Jack can fix you up.”
Charlie let out a choked laugh. “Des. That’s salt water. Can’t really swim. Can’t fucking breathe. I’m bloody dyin’, Des.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about this.”
“What ‘bout the switch? The radio thing?”
“I can’t get to the switch.”
“Des, no. No, you have to. You bastard, you fucking have to,” Charlie moaned, tears streaming down his cheeks. Desmond pulled Charlie off the chair and cradled him in his arms. “Don’t you do this to me, Des. They have to be saved. You promised. You fucking promised me.”
“Charlie. I can’t, but… you can. It has to be you.” Desmond looked over at the small space between the door and the floor, held open by the metal chair.
Charlie followed his gaze and took a deep-as deep as he could, anyway-steadying breath. “Right. Alright, Des. Help me?”
“You don’t have to do this, Charlie. It’s going to hurt. You’re not going to survive this.”
“I do have to, though, don’t I?” Charlie countered, grimacing with the pain. Desmond swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “You can’t fit. Has to be me.”
“I’ll help you, Charlie.”
Desmond carefully pulled Charlie into his arms and half-carried, half-dragged him to the metal door. The sounds of their environment seemed to die around them, and but for Charlie’s pained breaths, it was silent.
Desmond quickly explained exactly what Charlie had to do once he got underneath the door. Charlie nodded and twisted until he was in a good position to slither through the small opening.
Just when he was about to go under, Charlie grabbed Desmond’s shirt, twisting his fingers in the bloody, blue material. “Des, wait. Wait. Tell Claire… that she was the best thing that ever happened to me, Desmond. Tell her… that I love her… more than my own life. Tell her that she changed me, Des. That… I’m a better person… for having known her. For having loved her. And… that every morning… when I looked at her beautiful smile, I felt reborn.” Charlie’s voice was rough and it broke Desmond’s heart to hear Charlie speak these words. “Tell Claire I love her.”
“I will, Charlie. I’ll tell her.”
Desmond’s arms were tight around Charlie’s torso. He rocked them both soothingly and petted Charlie’s matted blonde hair. Desmond leaned down over Charlie and kissed his forehead. “You’re a real hero, Charlie.”
Charlie nodded as best he could. “Take care of them, Desmond. Claire and Aaron. And Hurley. Keep them safe.”
“I will, Charlie.”
“Right. Guess I’d best be off, then, eh?” Charlie somehow managed to muster up a smile. Desmond’s heart burst with grief and sorrow as he watched this young man go willingly and knowingly to his death.
Charlie slid along the floor, disappearing beneath the door.
“Go, Desmond. Go now,” he called back.
Desmond immediately turned and dove into the water. He kicked hard, shooting towards the surface quickly. Once back in the boat, Desmond paddled halfway to shore and stopped, waiting. When a stream of water and flame shot up, Desmond finally allowed himself to cry.
***
The pain was unbelievable. Every movement was agony. Charlie’s body was bruised, broken, and bloody, and he was frankly surprised at the display of strength that he’d shown so far. He pulled himself along the floor, not trusting his body to support him if he stood up.
“Go, Desmond. Go now,” he called back. He heard a splash and knew that Desmond was gone.
Finally, Charlie reached the panel of controls on the opposite wall. There was the flashing yellow light. Charlie flipped the switch beside it. A message displayed on one of the screens confirmed that the signal had been turned off. But Charlie’s job wasn’t finished yet.
He looked around at the array of buttons and switches, searching for the one Desmond had told him about. There it was, on the end of the row, with a plastic cover of red and black stripes. Charlie opened the cover.
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.
Charlie turned the key, and a message flashed on the screen.
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
He pulled himself upright, crying out in pain.
Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us of our trespasses, as we will forgive those who trespass against us.
He typed in a number. His finger hovered over the ‘Enter’ key.
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
Charlie hit the key, then turned back to the button.
For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory…
A shuddering breath, then Charlie pushed the button. The countdown began.
…for ever and ever.
Charlie let himself fall back to the ground, screaming in agony.
Charlie decided not to look at the flashing numbers any longer. He stared at the ceiling of the small, underwater room. Two minutes left to live.
“Amen.”
Another alarm sounded; a warning saying to get out of the station quickly. Charlie tried to tune it out.
Charlie was crying again when the alarms fell silent two minutes later.
“I love you, Claire,” he gasped through the lump in his throat.
When the sudden flash of fire ripped through the station, Charlie welcomed it.
fin.