Fair Trade
Title: Fair Trade
Word Count: 1707
Rating: PG-13, for character death
Characters: Claire, Eko, Aaron, mentions of Jack, Kate, Hurley, Locke and Sun.
Timeline: Sometime either late S2 or early S3, but the beginning is fuzzy as a timeline goes.
Summary: The baby never dies in storybooks.
Part of her thought nothing would ever happen to him. It seemed like she freaked out over a fever or a rash every other week, but deep down Claire never thought there was truth to the French woman’s words. He was a baby, a sweet little child. He was perfect. He was her’s and she had overcome so much before he was even born. The baby never dies in storybooks.
Jack told her it was nothing. A common virus or something. It would clear up in a few days. She should have pushed harder. She should have gone after the Others or anyone who could have helped, like she had before. She should’ve… a lot of things. But she had gotten comfortable on the island, comfortable with the idea that her and her son were safe. But no one was safe on the island. No one was safe anywhere anymore.
When she woke up early that morning, she thought it was a miracle Aaron had actually slept through the night because he usually woke her up before the sun rose. So she didn’t check on him. She let him sleep. It was midmorning and two pages in her diary later that she noticed he was blue. It was just a trick of the light. But he wasn’t moving. Not even the slight rise and fall of his chest.
She didn’t run. She didn’t cry. She didn’t call for Jack. She just screamed.
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Claire didn’t know it was two days later. She knew people had come to see her, to try to comfort her, but she didn’t exactly remember who or when or even how many people had checked on her. They each crouched down beside her, telling her she need to let him go. Stop being crazy. She read in their eyes. They didn’t need to say it. Jack said he was sorry for not catching the seriousness of Aaron’s illness earlier when it would have mattered. Claire could sense the guilt and self-hatred in his words. Kate said things like this happen and the best thing is to move on. Charlie would have said he was sorry if he had actually stopped pacing like a caged lion outside of her tent and come in. She wouldn’t have minded. Hurley sat next to her for a few hours looking uncomfortable before mumbling something about helping Jin fish and scurrying away. Sun tried to get her to eat, but Claire just looked at her blankly. They all tried to console her, to pity her, but she knew what they were really thinking.
Stop being the freak who holds her dead baby even after he’s cold.
She wanted them all just to get out of her tent and let her be, to let her hold her son until he woke up. To let this all be some creepy nightmare.
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She noticed his presence even though he didn’t utter a word. He just stood there, not as if he was trying to figure out how to approach her without her bolting or as if he was at a loss for what to say. He was just there.
It surprised even her that she glanced up, unlike with all the other visitors. The breeze blew the loose strands of her hair across her face.
“Hi.”
Claire’s voice was tiny, a mousy squeak, like she was just realizing the world was growing around her as she shrank in comparison.
“Hello Claire.” Eko’s words were even and deep in tone, as if he was comfortable in the idea that he knew everything there was to know and everything knew him. “What are you doing?”
The question was simple, obvious, something all the others lacked. Everyone else tried to get her to stop; he just wanted to know what she was thinking.
“I don’t know. Going crazy I guess.”
Eko tipped his head. “You’re not crazy.”
Claire nodded slowly and loosened her grip on Aaron so it wasn’t quite so desperate. “Okay.”
“Claire.” Her eyes focused on his finally. “I think you should let him go.”
She glanced down at the tiny body in her arms wrapped in a pale blue blanket. He was so small. Her finger stroked his tiny digits, features frozen into that of sleep. Claire heaved a dry sob, touching her forehead to Aaron’s torso. Her baby was dead, she had lived, and she didn’t know why.
Eko put his hand gently on Claire’s shoulder, guiding her sight up to him. Claire nodded, taking a last look at the human life she had created. She took his hand and he helped her up from the ground. Her legs wobbled under her, but Eko was there to support her on the long walk a short distance to the little clearing by the beach that already held several of their dead. His arm wrapped around her waist, shielding her from prying eyes as they walked through camp, just as Claire tugged the blanket over Aaron’s face to protect him. The castaways flocked out of their tents, yet averted their gazes as they passed.
The graveyard’s soil landed hard under her bare feet as she stepped onto it. Claire wasn’t surprised to find the small grave already dug beside the most recent one, after all Aaron had been gone for four days and they had plenty of time. Claire absentmindedly wondered who had shoveled out the earth and created her baby’s last crib. Probably Jack. It should have been her.
She hadn’t realized she had stopped in her tracks until Eko gently nudged her forward. Claire glanced up at him and he looked back, with no expectations in his gaze, surprisingly.
“He’s dead.” The word sounded hollow in her throat and bitter on her tongue.
“Yes.”
Claire kneeled down beside the hole and carefully laid his body into the crevice. Pressing her lips to her hand, she shakily placed the kiss to his cheek. She was surprised about just how cold he was, and Claire wondered just how much heat a person’s soul contains. Her hand came down to rest on his fragile chest one last time before she rose hesitantly, Eko already saying his prayers behind her.
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Claire wandered into the jungle after everyone had gone to sleep. Sweaty heat and darkness pressed in around her, but she probed deeper into the trees, camp soon only a flickering speck behind her.
She heard someone or something whisper behind her and she spun, almost falling down from quickness of the movement. Then she heard it again, air being pushed past lips in a hurried rush, trying not to be heard. Or it was just a breeze rustling through the leaves. But then it said her name.
Claire.
Trees don’t say your name.
“Why do you want me?” she asked quietly, and she knew for sure as the words left her lips that she wasn’t speaking into the wind. Someone was listening.
Claire.
It was the same voice she had heard earlier that day as she readjusted the tarp on her roof. It had told her that they could help her. To come find them after sunset.
We can help you.
“How?” Claire gritted her teeth.
Your son.
“Aaron? What about Aaron?” She tried not to sound hopeful.
We can bring him back to you.
“Really? What do I have to do, I’ll do anything.”
Everything has a price.
“What’s the price?”
There’s a scale. A balance. There has to be a trade. One can’t live unless another dies. We can’t bring you back your son unless someone else takes his place.
“Who? Who will take his place?”
We can’t tell you that. But we need an answer.
Claire squeezed her eyes shut. Could she live with herself knowing that one of her friends died to save her baby?
“Yes.”
Claire opened her eyes to the sunrise’s pink light, blinking against it as her mind roved over the memories that flashed through her mind. Then she heard Aaron cry. It must be a dream. But then the wail came again, louder, and Charlie stirred in the tent next to her’s. She lifted her head from the sand and propped herself up on her hands. Aaron squirmed in his crib and rocked the cradle with the movement. Claire’s smile almost reached her ears as her hands slipped under his tiny form and clutched him to her chest, relief washing over her to finally have her son in her arms where he belonged. Yet her eyes darted towards to jungle, dark and ominous behind her. Her mind flickered to the deal she had made with the people who resided there.
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Claire grinned over Aaron, a maternal cooing sound coming from her throat and a warm smile matching his touched at her lips. His baby fists waved in the air as his gurgled, squealing as she made up another funny face.
“You need a bath little one” she remarked, grabbing a cloth from the open suitcase and making sure Aaron couldn’t roll off or grab anything dangerous. Claire headed over to the water basin, dunking the cloth into the liquid, wringing it in her hands and placing it into the rusted bucket. She was walking back to her tent when a flurry of motion in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and Claire glanced up, the smile fading from her lips when she caught sight of the blood. Eko.
She had tried to forget about the bargain she had made to get her son back, but now that was all she could think about.
“John? Charlie?” she wanted to ask them what happened but the words couldn’t quite make it out.
He had helped her when no one else could, and she had traded his life for her baby’s.
Claire glanced down at the little boy in her arms, and then at Eko’s unconscious body splattered with his own blood being dragged into the tent. This wasn’t her fault, she told herself. They were on an island, with sharp rocks and wild animals. She hadn’t done anything to him. But nothing could quell the dull ache of guilt in her stomach. Fair trade, she recited in her mind, even though it wasn’t her exchange to make.
Fin.
Word Count: 1707
Rating: PG-13, for character death
Characters: Claire, Eko, Aaron, mentions of Jack, Kate, Hurley, Locke and Sun.
Timeline: Sometime either late S2 or early S3, but the beginning is fuzzy as a timeline goes.
Summary: The baby never dies in storybooks.
Part of her thought nothing would ever happen to him. It seemed like she freaked out over a fever or a rash every other week, but deep down Claire never thought there was truth to the French woman’s words. He was a baby, a sweet little child. He was perfect. He was her’s and she had overcome so much before he was even born. The baby never dies in storybooks.
Jack told her it was nothing. A common virus or something. It would clear up in a few days. She should have pushed harder. She should have gone after the Others or anyone who could have helped, like she had before. She should’ve… a lot of things. But she had gotten comfortable on the island, comfortable with the idea that her and her son were safe. But no one was safe on the island. No one was safe anywhere anymore.
When she woke up early that morning, she thought it was a miracle Aaron had actually slept through the night because he usually woke her up before the sun rose. So she didn’t check on him. She let him sleep. It was midmorning and two pages in her diary later that she noticed he was blue. It was just a trick of the light. But he wasn’t moving. Not even the slight rise and fall of his chest.
She didn’t run. She didn’t cry. She didn’t call for Jack. She just screamed.
---------------------------------------------
Claire didn’t know it was two days later. She knew people had come to see her, to try to comfort her, but she didn’t exactly remember who or when or even how many people had checked on her. They each crouched down beside her, telling her she need to let him go. Stop being crazy. She read in their eyes. They didn’t need to say it. Jack said he was sorry for not catching the seriousness of Aaron’s illness earlier when it would have mattered. Claire could sense the guilt and self-hatred in his words. Kate said things like this happen and the best thing is to move on. Charlie would have said he was sorry if he had actually stopped pacing like a caged lion outside of her tent and come in. She wouldn’t have minded. Hurley sat next to her for a few hours looking uncomfortable before mumbling something about helping Jin fish and scurrying away. Sun tried to get her to eat, but Claire just looked at her blankly. They all tried to console her, to pity her, but she knew what they were really thinking.
Stop being the freak who holds her dead baby even after he’s cold.
She wanted them all just to get out of her tent and let her be, to let her hold her son until he woke up. To let this all be some creepy nightmare.
----------------------------------------------
She noticed his presence even though he didn’t utter a word. He just stood there, not as if he was trying to figure out how to approach her without her bolting or as if he was at a loss for what to say. He was just there.
It surprised even her that she glanced up, unlike with all the other visitors. The breeze blew the loose strands of her hair across her face.
“Hi.”
Claire’s voice was tiny, a mousy squeak, like she was just realizing the world was growing around her as she shrank in comparison.
“Hello Claire.” Eko’s words were even and deep in tone, as if he was comfortable in the idea that he knew everything there was to know and everything knew him. “What are you doing?”
The question was simple, obvious, something all the others lacked. Everyone else tried to get her to stop; he just wanted to know what she was thinking.
“I don’t know. Going crazy I guess.”
Eko tipped his head. “You’re not crazy.”
Claire nodded slowly and loosened her grip on Aaron so it wasn’t quite so desperate. “Okay.”
“Claire.” Her eyes focused on his finally. “I think you should let him go.”
She glanced down at the tiny body in her arms wrapped in a pale blue blanket. He was so small. Her finger stroked his tiny digits, features frozen into that of sleep. Claire heaved a dry sob, touching her forehead to Aaron’s torso. Her baby was dead, she had lived, and she didn’t know why.
Eko put his hand gently on Claire’s shoulder, guiding her sight up to him. Claire nodded, taking a last look at the human life she had created. She took his hand and he helped her up from the ground. Her legs wobbled under her, but Eko was there to support her on the long walk a short distance to the little clearing by the beach that already held several of their dead. His arm wrapped around her waist, shielding her from prying eyes as they walked through camp, just as Claire tugged the blanket over Aaron’s face to protect him. The castaways flocked out of their tents, yet averted their gazes as they passed.
The graveyard’s soil landed hard under her bare feet as she stepped onto it. Claire wasn’t surprised to find the small grave already dug beside the most recent one, after all Aaron had been gone for four days and they had plenty of time. Claire absentmindedly wondered who had shoveled out the earth and created her baby’s last crib. Probably Jack. It should have been her.
She hadn’t realized she had stopped in her tracks until Eko gently nudged her forward. Claire glanced up at him and he looked back, with no expectations in his gaze, surprisingly.
“He’s dead.” The word sounded hollow in her throat and bitter on her tongue.
“Yes.”
Claire kneeled down beside the hole and carefully laid his body into the crevice. Pressing her lips to her hand, she shakily placed the kiss to his cheek. She was surprised about just how cold he was, and Claire wondered just how much heat a person’s soul contains. Her hand came down to rest on his fragile chest one last time before she rose hesitantly, Eko already saying his prayers behind her.
----------------------------------------------------
Claire wandered into the jungle after everyone had gone to sleep. Sweaty heat and darkness pressed in around her, but she probed deeper into the trees, camp soon only a flickering speck behind her.
She heard someone or something whisper behind her and she spun, almost falling down from quickness of the movement. Then she heard it again, air being pushed past lips in a hurried rush, trying not to be heard. Or it was just a breeze rustling through the leaves. But then it said her name.
Claire.
Trees don’t say your name.
“Why do you want me?” she asked quietly, and she knew for sure as the words left her lips that she wasn’t speaking into the wind. Someone was listening.
Claire.
It was the same voice she had heard earlier that day as she readjusted the tarp on her roof. It had told her that they could help her. To come find them after sunset.
We can help you.
“How?” Claire gritted her teeth.
Your son.
“Aaron? What about Aaron?” She tried not to sound hopeful.
We can bring him back to you.
“Really? What do I have to do, I’ll do anything.”
Everything has a price.
“What’s the price?”
There’s a scale. A balance. There has to be a trade. One can’t live unless another dies. We can’t bring you back your son unless someone else takes his place.
“Who? Who will take his place?”
We can’t tell you that. But we need an answer.
Claire squeezed her eyes shut. Could she live with herself knowing that one of her friends died to save her baby?
“Yes.”
Claire opened her eyes to the sunrise’s pink light, blinking against it as her mind roved over the memories that flashed through her mind. Then she heard Aaron cry. It must be a dream. But then the wail came again, louder, and Charlie stirred in the tent next to her’s. She lifted her head from the sand and propped herself up on her hands. Aaron squirmed in his crib and rocked the cradle with the movement. Claire’s smile almost reached her ears as her hands slipped under his tiny form and clutched him to her chest, relief washing over her to finally have her son in her arms where he belonged. Yet her eyes darted towards to jungle, dark and ominous behind her. Her mind flickered to the deal she had made with the people who resided there.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Claire grinned over Aaron, a maternal cooing sound coming from her throat and a warm smile matching his touched at her lips. His baby fists waved in the air as his gurgled, squealing as she made up another funny face.
“You need a bath little one” she remarked, grabbing a cloth from the open suitcase and making sure Aaron couldn’t roll off or grab anything dangerous. Claire headed over to the water basin, dunking the cloth into the liquid, wringing it in her hands and placing it into the rusted bucket. She was walking back to her tent when a flurry of motion in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and Claire glanced up, the smile fading from her lips when she caught sight of the blood. Eko.
She had tried to forget about the bargain she had made to get her son back, but now that was all she could think about.
“John? Charlie?” she wanted to ask them what happened but the words couldn’t quite make it out.
He had helped her when no one else could, and she had traded his life for her baby’s.
Claire glanced down at the little boy in her arms, and then at Eko’s unconscious body splattered with his own blood being dragged into the tent. This wasn’t her fault, she told herself. They were on an island, with sharp rocks and wild animals. She hadn’t done anything to him. But nothing could quell the dull ache of guilt in her stomach. Fair trade, she recited in her mind, even though it wasn’t her exchange to make.
Fin.