Following, Part Nineteen [Jack/Juliet] [R] [WIP]
“Please, Jack-”her rage subsided in an instant, her eyes going wide, “Don’t take these from me, not after-not after Aaron. I don’t have anything left. I need these.” She looked desperately at the shoes where they were resting on the table, her hand still covering them protectively.
“Aaron?” Jack asked, suddenly confused, the child’s absence striking him all at once. He found himself scouring the room with his eyes as if he could locate the baby if he looked hard enough, “Claire, where-where is he?” He felt sick as he began, “Did they-“
“He’s gone,” she said simply, slumping in the chair, her hands dropping to her sides despondently, “Kate took him. On the helicopter.”
“Kate?” Jack asked, puzzled, “Why would Kate-”
“Because-” Claire’s eyes fell to the ground, to herself. She took hold of the laces of one of the shoes, rubbing the material between her thumb and forefinger slowly, and muttered, “Because she knew she needed to take him-to give him a better life. She knew that I couldn’t- She knew that I wasn’t ever supposed to raise him.”
“What? Did she say that to you?”
“No, Jack,” she looked back up at him, “Dad told me. I-I was upset at first, but-he explained everything. He told me that I never should have had Aaron, that having the baby had been a mistake. And if he had been there, when I was growing up, none of this would have ever happened-I would never have gotten pregnant in the first place. I would’ve known that I was special, that I was meant for something bigger.”
“Claire, what are you talking about? Why do you keep saying-”
“He didn’t expect it to be me, you know. He said that when he first found out about me, he thought I was just-an accident, like Aaron. He and my mum-they were both drunk when they- God,” she winced, “they met at some awful bar in Melbourne, and- he was only staying there for a week, for some medical conference. My mum-she always told me that my dad was an American and that it just-hadn’t worked out between them, the long-distance thing, but she-she never told me any of that,” Claire swallowed, her cheeks glowing.
Of all the words it could have been, it was “drunk” that finally made Jack pause, look at Claire more closely than he ever had before-at her cool blue eyes, the slight dip in her small, pointed nose.
“Jesus. Claire-” He stared, then tore his gaze away, looking at the floor. He felt almost physically ill as the familiar, sordid, oppressive weight settled over him. The worst part was how unsurprising it all was, how little explanation he needed.
When Jack finally got the nerve to look up at her again, slowly, his own cheeks were as hot and dull as hers. He felt-a familiar, vicarious sort of shame, the way he always did when his father had done something because he'd been drunk.
“He, um,” Claire was saying, “he didn’t even know I existed at first: my mum-she didn’t want him to get involved: I guess she knew he was married. But then-later, she decided-well, we weren’t exactly well-off,” she flushed hard. “When I was nine, we, uh, we needed some money. When he found out about me-when he came to see me that first time, he gave me a test, like this one. He told me not to tell my mum, but I-I guess I’ve never been very good at keeping secrets. I can still remember it: he bought me ice cream afterwards, and-he seemed so happy when we finished. He told me that I wasn’t a mistake, like he’d thought: that I had a purpose. That he didn’t know how it had happened, but somehow, I had what it took.”
Jack’s eyes jerked toward hers.
“He wanted it to be you, Jack. He told me-when I saw him later, he told me he had so many plans for you. He was so upset when he found out-”
“When did he-?” he had a hard time forming words, feeling winded, as though he’d been running for miles, “Was it-was that why he went to Australia? Was he going to see you? Did he-”
Claire shook her head painfully.
“It might’ve been why he came to Sydney, but I never saw him. Maybe he meant to-maybe he tried-he might not have been able to find me- My aunt, well, she wouldn’t exactly have been eager to help him.”
“Claire, if you didn’t see him-in Sydney- When did he tell you all this? When did you see him?”
“It’s so hard to keep track of time on this island-but it seems like it happened only-a few days ago-I-don’t know how it’s possible: I know you said-that he died in Australia, but I-I saw him, I swear I did, Jack. He looked just like he did when he came to see me in Sydney. He sounded the same and everything.”
A shudder wracked through him and he felt the backs of his knees hit the chair, half lowering himself, half-falling into it. All he could do was look up as Claire moved around the table slowly, stepped toward him. With him seated, they were about the same height, and so it was easy for her to lift one hand to his cheek. He let her, falling silent, breathing hard. Her eyes moved over him, studying his face as though she was trying to find something in it.
“You don’t look like him,” she observed quietly, turning his chin to the side, “After he told me, I thought maybe, if I saw you again, I’d be able to see it. I mean, maybe it would be-you know, like one of those news stories, where the adopted kids don’t realize that they look alike, until after they find each other years later, and somebody points it out to them-but I-”
She sighed, looking into his eyes unflinchingly and he felt suddenly like he was seeing a ghost, like he was seeing his father.
“He loved you, you know,” she said seriously, “Even though I ended up being the one who-” her brow creased, “He told me he wished that we’d been able to know each other when we were growing up. He said that you would’ve loved having a little sister back then-that you’d always liked taking care of people-”
As her hand slipped away from his face, her features began to blur in front of him.
“Claire,” he said dimly.
“Jack,” she looked up at him abruptly, anxiously, “I need you to take care of me right now. You have to let me keep these shoes. If they ask you, you have to tell them that they aren’t yours: that they’re mine. Can you- Will you-“
“Yeah,” he nodded at her, his stomach tightening, “Yeah, Claire: I don’t care about the shoes-” He took a deep breath, trying to recover. “But-please listen to me: I’m going to find some way to get you out of here. Ben’s got Juliet here, somewhere-and some other people who are helping us, and I don’t know how yet, but we’re going to find a way out. Is this where they’re keeping you? Or did they bring you here just for the-test? If we need to find you-”
She shook her head slowly, taking a few steps backward.
“I can’t leave,” the corners of her mouth twisted upward spasmodically, but only for a moment, “Didn’t you hear what I said?”
He stood up immediately, moving toward her, wishing his arms were free so that he could grab hold of her.
“I told you: you don’t have to worry about Ben. Whatever he’s doing to you here-we’ll make him stop. We’ll-we’ll kill him if we have to-”
“I’m not worried about Ben.”
“Then what-”
“Dad asked me to stay here, with the Others. I’m meant to go with them. To find out what I’m supposed to do.” A chill passed through him as she finished. She had moved back around the table and now her hand was resting on the shoes once more.
“Claire, my-" he broke off, "Dad’s dead. He’s-I don’t know what you saw, but-he’s dead. I saw his body in Australia. Whatever’s here-it-it can’t be him. Ben and the Others want to make you believe that there’s some kind of purpose to all this. I don’t know how, but they must be behind whatever it is, making us think that it’s him-. They know that the island is breaking down and they’re so desperate to save it that they would do anything-”
“It was him, Jack,” she insisted, squeezing the shoes together with her fingers, “It was. And after what he said to me, I can’t-I won’t disappoint him again. I’m-” She stopped abruptly at the sound of someone working at the door. By the time it had opened to reveal Cindy and three guards, Claire had already stopped talking, already settled back into the chair in the corner of the room, leaving Jack standing in the middle as though he had been talking to a ghost.
When Cindy asked him about the test, he told her that none of the things on the table were his.
Claire smiled up at him very slightly before they put the sack over his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to smile back.
~~
Part Twenty