The Paradox - Chapter Six
Title: The Paradox - Chapter Six
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 Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five
It barely even took a day for tributes to start appearing in the newspaper. The memorial site that Charlie had visited once before had all but exploded - hundreds of people from all over the world coming to post messages for their loved ones and to donate money to create twin memorials in Sydney and Los Angeles for all those who had died.
Charlie carefully cut out all of Claire’s obituaries from the newspaper, a macabre collection that he pinned up in his bedroom along with her now tattered photograph.
Still worried about his brother, Liam had stayed true to his word and checked in with the rehab clinic only to discover to his immense surprise that not only had Charlie been coming in every single day for his methadone, he had also attended every single one of his therapy sessions punctually and was apparently making excellent progress. Still convinced that there was something not quite right about it all, Liam made the decision to administer the methadone to Charlie at home instead.
Charlie couldn’t have cared less. He continued on with his rehabilitation more out of habit than out of any real desire to get clean. He had all but lost hope that he could do anything more for Claire and Aaron (or any of the others on the island for that matter) and he had found himself sinking again into the now familiar feeling of abject misery.
All too soon however, Charlie opened the obituaries (as was his habit now) and his eyes alighted on an announcement that there was going to be a ceremony at the end of the week when Oceanic was going to place a memorial stone in the local cemetery for every Australian citizen who had been on board the plane. Charlie grimly crawled out from underneath his misery and decided that he would go to the placing of Claire’s - if nothing else then for closure. Nothing had turned out the way it was supposed to.
He borrowed a black button down shirt from his brother, showered and then combed his hair for the first time in days. Sighing heavily, he then set out for the cemetery on foot, cursing Liam’s newfound reluctance to let him drive. He had refused to let himself be driven there and back again, like a child.
Despite his paranoia that he was going to be late for the service Charlie stopped briefly at the local supermarket before continuing on. It took him just over an hour to get to the cemetery and by that time everyone else had already found a folding chair to sit on. The congregation had already started but was depressingly small. Charlie hovered indignantly up the back for a moment before sliding into an unoccupied chair.
He made note of a small gaggle of Oceanic employees dressed in their uniforms down the front who sniffled their way appreciatively through the end of a carefully worded eulogy that was being read by a woman who must have been an official spokesperson for the airline. She looked very serious but Charlie could tell that she didn’t really care about what she was reading - her eyes said it all. The next person to speak wasn’t much better - some old bloke with glasses that the press took about a million photographs of. He babbled on about how it was such a tragedy and how his sympathies went out to all the families who had lost loved ones...
Charlie was just about snoring by the time the final man stepped up. He took one look at his attire however and immediately sat up a little straighter on his flimsy chair. He hadn’t been to church in years now but that didn’t mean that he had lost his respect for the word of God.
“Blessed are those who mourn,” the priest began in a clear, strong voice. “For they will be comforted...”
And Charlie was lost - lost in the priest’s words, lost in his silent grief, lost within the self loathing that had settled upon him like a coat of dust ever since the news report had aired. He blinked his way heavily through the short sermon and then shook himself when everyone rose to their feet and made their way to where the memorial stones had been set in orderly rows.
All up there was only about a hundred and Charlie noted grimly that there was nowhere near that many mourners here today. Each and every single memorial stone was identical and they seemed to be set in alphabetical order. The engraving on them detailed the person’s name, their date of birth, date of death and then a simple message that read “A victim of the disaster of Oceanic Flight 815”.
Charlie came to Claire’s stone slowly with measured steps and shallow breaths. He baulked in surprise however when he realised that her inscription was slightly more detailed than everyone else’s.
Claire Littleton
(and her unborn child)
27/10/1982 - 22/09/2004
Victims of the disaster
of Oceanic Flight 815
Charlie stared down at the inscription for a long time before swallowing heavily and reaching into his pocket to pull forth a small jar. Bending down he placed the peanut butter carefully next to her memorial stone feeling both foolish and strangely content.
“Excuse me...” Charlie turned abruptly to see a tall Asian girl standing behind him, a small posy held in her hand. He hadn’t heard her coming up behind him. “Um...not to be rude or anything but...who are you?”
“I’m...Charlie,” he said awkwardly. “Charlie Pace.”
“I’m Rachel,” the girl stared at him quizzically, as though trying to figure out if she’d ever seen him before. “You...you knew Claire too?”
Charlie merely nodded and the girl lowered her eyes.
“I went to school with her,” she explained thickly. “None of the others wanted to come with me today though. They said they couldn’t cope with it.”
Charlie wasn’t quite sure what to say to that so he didn’t say anything and the girl stepped forward and placed her flowers next to his peanut butter, tears sliding suddenly and silently down her cheeks as she straightened up again.
“How did you um...” she paused to wipe the tears off her cheeks, avoiding his eyes. “How did you know Claire?”
“She was...” Charlie began then paused. “We were friends. We had a bit of a...falling out though.” He admitted. “I never really got the chance to...you know.”
Rachel nodded, still not looking at him.
“She didn’t deserve this,” she said quietly, her voice choked. “She was such a gorgeous person. I just...I can’t believe that she’s...”
Charlie didn’t say anything as she began to cry again, sobbing in earnest this time. After a moment he reached out an awkward hand and touched her arm. Rachel sniffed heavily at his touch and finally turned to look at him.
“She didn’t deserve this,” she repeated wretchedly. “And her baby...”
“They’re together now though,” Charlie said softly. “Wherever they are.”
“Yeah,” Rachel nodded sadly. “At least they’ve got each other.” Charlie nodded back awkwardly as the girl glanced down at her watch, an unhappy expression creasing her face. “Crap. I have to head back to work.”
Rachel hesitated for a moment and then held her hand out to him. Charlie took it gently but he didn’t shake it - it didn’t really seem appropriate under the circumstances.
“I’m glad I wasn’t the only person here for her,” she admitted.
“Me too,” Charlie said. Rachel squeezed his hand gently and smiled sadly before departing, her high heels sinking awkwardly into the grass.
Charlie watched her go and then turned back to Claire’s memorial stone. There were still a few people lingering around, many of them talking to their loved ones, saying goodbye. Charlie stared down at the white marble feeling like somebody had dropped a lead weight onto his chest. He had come here to do the same thing that they all had - to say goodbye and try to move on from all of this. He couldn’t afford to try and keep up with his dual self’s trials and tribulations any more - it was hard enough to keep his own messed up life in check.
“I thought that I could do this,” he said out loud, surprising himself. “I thought that maybe it was fate or destiny or whatever that old bird told me all those years ago. That I was supposed to do this.” He laughed suddenly, humourlessly. “Well. I guess she was wrong wasn’t she?”
He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts and then continued.
“I’m so sorry Claire,” he whispered. “So very sorry but...God I just don’t know what else I can do for you.” Dropping to one knee, Charlie touched the cool stone that bore her name and felt the weight in his chest grow even heavier with repressed sobs. “I don’t know how to save you,” he swallowed heavily, trying hard to stop himself from going out in tears. “I don’t know how to save any of you! I’ve tried Claire, I really have but I just...I don’t know anymore and I...God I just can’t keep doing this!”
He stood abruptly, swiping angrily at his tears with one hand, the other hanging limp at his side. And then, to his great shock, he felt somebody take hold of his hand in a firm, warm grasp. Charlie gasped and his eyes flew shut. He couldn’t see anything - but he could feel that he was surrounded by people. There were at least forty of them, all in a tight circle. And right next to him...
He turned his head, his eyes still shut tightly, and was amazed to realise that he could feel Claire’s presence beside him, stronger than ever before. He could feel the warmth and pressure of her hand wrapped around his own. She was holding Aaron in her other arm, staring out over an empty space in the middle of the crowd. Charlie ignored the void and tried instead to concentrate on her and her alone.
Suddenly, without really meaning to, he opened his eyes and his hand was empty and he was alone once again in the cemetery in Sydney.
He stood there for a moment, staring at his empty hand - but he didn’t feel upset at the loss of contact or frustrated with himself for being unable to stay with her. He felt warm and safe with the lingering presence of Claire’s hand imprinted against his own - and along with that warmth, a flicker of hope was rekindled within him.
Since the dreams had first started, he had never experienced such a powerful connection with Claire - especially not when he was awake. Did this mean that their connection was growing stronger along with their relationship? Charlie felt a renewed sense of hope and he smiled as he glanced down once more at her memorial stone before turning his back on the cemetery.
That night he dreamed that he threw the Virgin Mary statues in the ocean one by one and then he joined Claire at her campfire. She fussed over an impressive collection of scrapes and bruises on his arms and then turned her attention instead to his face, touching his cheek gently.
It felt like the first night that he had dreamt about her Charlie thought in amazement. He felt suspended, almost weightless, a split second behind his physical body as Claire gazed at him, her expression so curious and thoughtful that he just wanted to take her face in his hands and…
Charlie caught his breath as she leant forward, pressing her lips softly to his in a kiss that surprised him more then he would have ever cared to admit. As she pulled back from him and his eyes opened, he drifted gently out of the dream too, still smiling quietly to himself as he stared up at the darkened ceiling of his room.
He pushed his way out of bed and snapped on the light, taking down her photograph and staring so hard at it that he thought it might just spontaneously combust. Maybe he could still do this. If it was his destiny (or fate or whatever) to save Claire, to save everyone on the island...well he couldn’t just give up now could he? They needed him. Of that he was completely certain now. Why else would he be having these dreams? Why else would the paradox have been created at all?
He slept with the photograph under his pillow that night, the very tips of his fingers touching the silk-soft photographic paper. If he let his mind wander just far enough into his subconscious he could almost imagine that he was actually touching Claire’s cheek instead.
~*~
Charlie thought back on his words all the next day. Were they true? Was there really nothing more he could do? He recalled his strange meeting years before with the woman in the antique store. Don’t get on flight 815, she had said, and he hadn’t. What else had she said? He thought hard...
On Christmas Eve in the year 2004 you will receive a phone call from a woman named Penelope Widmore. She will tell you that she has received a distress call from a young man named Charlie Pace who claims that he is stranded on an island following the crash of Flight 815.
That was it - the missing part of the equation. She had told him that he was supposed to join Penny’s team in search of the island. Well there was nothing for it then but to wait for this Penny bird to call him. Christmas was just a few weeks away. She would know what to do.
Charlie emerged from his seclusion to rejoin Liam’s family for dinner that night. The atmosphere was thick and awkward as polite conversation was passed around like a basket of bread. Charlie felt slightly ashamed for his outburst of the other day and he was relieved that both Liam and Karen seemed loath to bring it up. Taking his meds from his brother now Charlie felt more dependent than ever and he was beginning to resent the whole situation; but then he realized that they may in turn be regretting their decision to have taken him in so he had to tread softly and do his best to make peace.
“How was the memorial?” Liam finally asked him over the coffee and dessert.
“It was good,” said Charlie. “There were quite a lot of people there. I think it really helped me to put closure on the whole thing.”
He hated lying to his brother, but Charlie thought it would put his family more at ease to believe that he was moving on. Liam nodded in acknowledgement and not much more was said about it. Karen was still distant as she silently cleared the table and the brothers retired with Meghan to the sitting room.
It had been a hot and humid day, spring rain colliding with a summer that was fast approaching. Sunset wasn’t for a few hours but Charlie noticed the sky darken as he sat with the others to watch television. The transition caught his attention and refused to let go. As if he was being beckoned he rose without speaking and walked to the bay window where he could get a clear view of the sky.
“Storm on the way?” asked Liam with mild interest as he played with Meghan and her little toy figurines.
Charlie didn’t respond. He was watching the clouds as they tracked across the landscape and thickened, grey and foreboding. His heart started to race with an odd feeling of apprehension. Despite his inexplicable fear, he couldn’t tear his eyes away and stayed fixed to the spot even as the clouds ripped open and a deluge of rain came down.
Something was coming.
“Charlie?” called Liam.
Suddenly a bright flash lit up in his eyes with a clap of thunder, but Charlie saw more than lightning. He saw an explosion, white angry sparks and an electrical charge that was headed straight for him with murderous intent, blowing up in his face.
Charlie screamed and dove backwards away from the window, collapsing on the carpet. Meghan looked up too and froze. Normally she wasn’t too bothered by thunderstorms but Charlie’s reaction set her off and she began to whimper.
Liam was up in an instant to where Charlie lay cowering on the floor, white as a sheet.
“Charlie, what the bloody hell’s wrong?”
Charlie was breathless, staring but not seeing. It was after him, the lightning. He started to shake.
“It’s gonna hit me,” he said in some far off voice, “It’s gonna kill me.”
Another flash and Charlie screamed again even louder, throwing his arms over his head. Meghan wailed.
Liam grabbed Charlie’s hands and tried to pull them away from his face. “Charlie, would you stop acting like a bloody nutter! You’re scaring Meghan! Stop this!”
Over the commotion, Karen swooped in and picked her daughter up.
“I’ll take her to her room,” she said tersely, turned on her heels and disappeared.
Charlie was in a full blown panic at this stage. He curled up into a tight ball and started rocking, each time flinching madly, heart skipping a beat, when another bolt of lightning burst. He didn’t understand it himself but it was as if he was watching himself from a distance, unable to control his response.
“It’s after me, Liam,” he cried.
Liam just gave up and wrapped his arms around his brother, and held him as Charlie sobbed until the storm passed.
~*~
A few days later and Charlie still didn’t know what had come over him. He had felt like he was being hunted, as if an enormous shift had occurred and something was now after him, arriving with the storm. After the storm had passed, the panic subsided but that feeling of apprehension remained. Charlie felt jittery and on edge, expectant, jumping at shadows. He went to sleep that night feeling like a child who feared monsters in his closet. His dreams provided little in the way of answers but a new pattern had emerged of increasing danger.
The priest died. The island killed him. Claire was drowning. And he was here! It was him, the Scottish man who had met him on the street in London, the one who had caused all this! He was on the island too, long haired and bearded. Charlie watched in horror as he dove into the water and brought Claire to shore but she wasn’t breathing. Oh my God. Claire! Claire!, he was yelling. The man knew. He had taken off from their place in the jungle and ran right for her. He knew she was going to drown...
“Wait, how did you know?” Charlie called out in his sleep even as he struggled to stay in the dream and snatch his answers from its jaws. It was no use, he felt it slipping. Awareness was bleeding into his dream, blurring the edges. He could feel his pillow beneath his head. He continued to yell after the man who was now carrying a soaked Claire away in his arms.
“How did you know she was drowning?!”
He didn’t realise he had said it out loud until Liam was at his door. He was looking through the crack with concern but stayed at the threshold, as though he was afraid to get too close.
“Everything all right Charlie?” he asked, wearily.
Charlie oriented himself and feeling rather silly, hung his head and muttered, “Yeah. Sorry I woke you.”
He was unable to get back to sleep that night, thinking of the Scotsman. He had told Charlie about the island all those years ago, and now it seemed he was there, still predicting events like a bad oracle. And all at once Charlie understood. The man could see the future because he had been through it all before and now as a result of his interference Charlie was living two lives side by side.
He knew the Scottish man had saved Claire but he was still worried for her. It felt as though the danger had not passed. Finally when the sun began to rise and the glow of dawn lit up his room, Charlie threw back the covers, tossed on a dressing gown and went downstairs for some coffee. He stopped halfway down the stairs when he heard the sounds of a hushed conversation wafting up from the kitchen like the aroma of breakfast on the stove.
“My God, Liam, do you realise what could have happened?” Karen was saying in a harsh whisper, her voice breaking.
“I know, Kar,” said Liam. “It’s lucky I was there, but remember Meghan is fine.”
“For now,” she said. “But Liam I have a bad feeling about this.”
Charlie gripped the handrail tighter and held his breath as he listened. He had hoped Liam wouldn’t tell Karen what had happened in the bath with Meghan when he had been sleepwalking, but then again he wouldn’t expect his brother to lie to his wife to protect him either.
“I’m watching him,” Liam said, trying to appease her. “I won’t let Charlie out of my sight from now on if that’s what it takes.”
“What if it takes more than that?” Karen asked.
“What are you talking about?” said Liam.
“I’m just suggesting that it’s possible that Charlie is becoming a bit more than we can handle,” she said softly. “His problems...they’re getting worse.”
“I can handle my brother,” snapped Liam.
“But, should you Liam?” she asked. “Now try not to get upset, but…maybe it’s time we looked into full time care for Charlie, in a hospital.”
Charlie almost let out a gasp but swallowed it down. He stood frozen, trying not to move a muscle, cause the floorboards to creak and betray his presence. But bloody hell, they were talking about having him committed! It took all his energy not to burst in there and defend himself but he knew such a reaction would only play right into Karen’s hands, illustrating her case against him perfectly. The last thing he could afford to do right now was to appear unstable. Luckily Liam appeared to be coming to his rescue.
“No. No,” Liam was saying. “You want me to abandon my brother to a nuthouse?”
“It’s not like that,” she pleaded.
“I owe it to him to be there,” said Liam, sounding agitated now. Charlie felt for his brother who seemed clearly torn. “I promised.”
“Meghan could have drowned,” Karen said emphatically. “Charlie’s outbursts, his nightmares, his erratic behaviour...I’m afraid of what he’ll do next. I’m speaking to you honestly Liam. He frightens me.”
Liam was silent and Charlie wondered if she was getting to him. He heard the pacing of feet and the creak of a chair. Then Karen continued.
“I love Charlie too, but we’re not doing him any favours by keeping him here if he’s not getting the help he needs. You promised to take care of him, Liam, and this is what has to be done, for everyone’s well being, Charlie’s and ours.”
Charlie crept back up to his room as lightly as possible. He didn’t wait to hear Liam’s response - he didn’t need to. His time was running out. He just needed to delay things until Christmas, until Penny called. If he could manage to avoid getting locked up before then, he might just get to the bottom of this and prove to his brother that he wasn’t losing his mind.
He was on borrowed time in more ways than one. That feeling of impending doom had returned, and it wasn’t just the reality of his situation that was causing it. The other Charlie on the island was feeling it too and Charlie understood that now, because when he went to sleep that night he met the Scotsman again, and this time the prophet was speaking to him. Charlie heard words that chilled him right through, as though he had been impaled on the very letters.
“No matter what I try to do…you’re gonna die Charlie.”
~*~
When Liam gave gifts they were often surprising. At some point in their lives Charlie must have grown accustomed to the forgotten birthdays and the crummy Christmas presents and his brother’s feeble excuses for both. Then suddenly and unexpectedly, Liam would bestow a gift that proved to Charlie once and for all that his older brother truly did care about him; that he wasn't just a selfish inconsiderate prat who was only helping him to relieve his own sense of guilt and because it was what his wife expected of him. Charlie still remembered that Christmas morning in Finland when Liam had given him their great grandfather's ring. It had been one of the most perfect moments of his life. Charlie hadn't thought that it was possible for Liam to come up with a gift that meant more to him than the ring. But it turned out Liam could still surprise him.
Charlie had just finished his last session at the rehab clinic. When he got back to Liam's house he made his way directly upstairs, planning to take a late afternoon nap. He stepped through the door to find Liam had cleared a large space in the corner of the spare room...
...in this space there was a brand new piano.
Charlie blinked and stared at the instrument for a moment, half wondering whether it was some sort of vision - like his dream where a piano had magically appeared on the beach and he had heard the baby crying inside it before both were swept out to sea. Charlie gently lifted up its lid, stroking his fingers over its smooth white keys and pressing down gently on his favourite of its notes. The keys out sang divinely. The piano was real.
Suddenly he felt a hand pressing his shoulder.
“Looks like Father Christmas brought your present early, baby brother...”
He turned to see Liam standing at his side. Charlie winced at the sound of his voice. In the last week, Liam had started speaking to him as if he were a child, using the same cooing tones as when he spoke to Meghan. There was a hint of desperation in his smile.
“This is from Karen and me,” Liam explained, “a ‘well done’ for getting through withdrawal and rehab. I know only too well it isn't easy, baby brother. We're proud of you.”
Charlie flushed. “Oh Li...but this must have cost you...”
“"Don’t worry! We can afford it. Besides I needed to make up for...”
Liam's voice trailed away. He bowed his head.
For the piano you stole from me, Charlie thought. He knew Liam was thinking the same thing, but neither of them voiced it. Charlie had already accepted Liam's remorse. Now he just wished that he could assure Liam that it wasn't his fault that his mind was in this fractured state. But he imagined that from Liam's perspective there was no other conceivable cause.
Liam turned to face him, placing his hands on Charlie's shoulders and looking him firmly in the eye as he always did when he had something important to say.
“Do something for me, baby brother, alright? I want...I want you to start writing again. Music, Charlie. That’s all I want you to concentrate on for the next few weeks. No more obsessing about that bloody plane crash, yeah? I’ll be expecting to hear a new batch of songs for Christmas. That’s the only present I want from you this year...”
Charlie sighed. He knew it was impossible to detach his mind from the plane crash and the island where its survivors were stranded. But he also found it impossible to say ‘no’ to his brother when he looked him in the eye and asked him for something.
“I’ll try my best, Liam...”
In the following week Charlie discovered that he could keep his promise to his brother, whilst keeping his secret connection to the island. If anything the music seemed to strengthen his psychic bond to his other life. When he played he seemed to fall into a trance. If Charlie lost himself in his music then he could see the island vividly in his mind’s eye. He saw the people too - his campmates, his friends. He saw their faces clearer than ever. He could no longer hear what they were saying to him - the music drowned their voices - but he could feel them so close it was like he was touching them.
The first song Charlie wrote was a tribute to the large fuzzy haired man who he had come to consider his best friend. This song was an upbeat honky tonk number that lifted up his spirits and brought a giddy smile to his lips whenever he played it. It was the sort of tune you would have blasting on your car stereo while on a joyride through the city.
A few days later Charlie found himself writing a more sombre ballad, a song filled with shame and regret. He wrote this song for the Korean lady with the soft brown eyes. Every time he saw this woman Charlie felt horribly guilty as if he had hurt her or wronged her. His mind threw shadows over the memory of his crime against her, but the song was his confession and apology. He didn’t expect the Korean woman to like it, but he still needed to write it for her...and for himself.
Charlie would have liked the time to write a song for every member of the camp. He could have written one for the Arab soldier with the heavy eyes who he often saw fixing little gadgets in quiet shady patches of the beach. He would have liked to write a song for the older black woman who sometimes joined him for prayers under the framework of his church. He could have written a song for the hard-faced man with the crooked glasses who sat reading outside his tent. He would even have liked to have written one for the dog who roamed around their campsite with a Frisbee in his mouth. He would write a song for all of them if he had time. But with his time running rapidly short Charlie felt all he wanted to compose were love songs for Claire and lullabies for her child.
Charlie sat at the piano from the moment that he woke in the morning to the time that he fell asleep late at night. As he tapped out the notes Charlie started to feel like his music was some sort of...well code. If he could only get the melody of this code right then somehow his music might be able to save those people.
It was a lazy December afternoon when Charlie decided that he wanted to write a song for the Scottish man who had taken to repeatedly saving his life. He didn’t think the piano was the right instrument for the Scottish man’s song. He felt compelled to return to his acoustic guitar - the instrument he had been playing on the day of their fateful meeting in London. After stringing together a set of chords and scribbling down some notations, Charlie sat strumming on his bed. He let his eyes fall closed and found himself on the beach again.
He could see the Scottish man crouching before him. He was smiling, though there was something shifty about his smile. It felt like he was hiding something from him. But Charlie trusted this man. He was the key to this whole mystery after all. And now the Scotsman was asking him to go somewhere with him. Charlie was only too happy to come along. He strummed for a little longer...then he started to whistle.
As Charlie fell deeper into his trance he found himself sitting around a campfire with his fuzzy haired friend and the Korean fisherman. They were telling ghost stories and toasting marshmallows, laughing uproariously together. Charlie looked around for the Scottish man. He noticed him sitting alone on the outskirts of their camp; staring intently at a photograph. Charlie approached him, offering him a can of food and asking about his picture. The Scottish man hesitated for a moment and then passed him the photograph to see for himself. It was a picture of the Scotsman with his arms wrapped around a beautiful young woman with misty blue eyes and golden hair that spilled over her shoulders.
“Her name’s Penny...” the Scotsman told him.
Charlie’s eyes flew open. The guitar tumbled from his lap, its neck smacking against the bed frame, damaging the frets and snapping several of its strings. Charlie didn’t even wince. He scrambled for his dream diary, turning to the page that he had marked out for Christmas Eve. On this page he had written in block capitals the words ‘PENNY CALLS!’ Charlie grabbed a pen and scribbled furiously beneath this heading.
Penny and the Scottish man! There’s a connection! She’s his sodding girlfriend! Of course! It all fits. It’s all coming together now. Bloody hell!
Charlie spent the rest of the night pacing in his darkened room. He had always had faith in Penny’s call and now he knew her reason for wanting to find the island. He was certain now that Penny would call him, just as certain as the Scottish man seemed to be that she was coming to rescue him. In the days that followed Charlie found his heart leaping every time the phone rang. The sound filled him with both excitement and dread. He really wanted to meet this Penny girl.
If she was in love with the Scottish man then Charlie would finally have someone who understood how it felt to be on a desperate search for an unreachable person. Charlie felt himself counting the days and as the days grew shorter he counted the hours too. Time was like sand running through his fingers. Part of him wanted to let time spill out, another part of him wanted to clasp hold of it...because at the back of his memory he knew what was going to happen before the call came.
On the morning of December 22nd Charlie woke up with the Scottish man’s voice in his ear.
“I’m sorry, brother. But this time...this time you have to die.”
Charlie blinked his eyes, waking up with a chill in his bones and a sick sinking feeling in his gut. He knew that the Scottish man spoke the truth. There could be no more respite. After a long time staring up at the ceiling Charlie slowly rose from his bed and dressed himself in mechanical movements. He gazed at his piano for a moment, but found he didn’t feel like playing today. Maybe he was terrified of experiencing his other self’s thoughts as he came to terms with his imminent demise. Maybe he just wanted to give the guy some privacy; not intrude upon him in his sensitive state.
Instead Charlie chose to spend some quality time with Liam, Karen and Meghan. He helped them put up their Christmas decorations. He pitched in with the cooking and tidying. Karen wanted the house spotless for when her relatives came around for Christmas dinner. Charlie was only too happy to help with the chores. He needed to keep himself occupied otherwise he was going to slip into his other self’s thoughts. He wanted distance from the island right now. He didn’t want to feel himself drowning in it. So every time he completed one task he would eagerly ask Karen if there was anything else he could do.
“I appreciate your help,” Karen said awkwardly as she soaped up the dishes that Charlie was drying and putting away. “But you’re free to go upstairs and practise your music if you like, Charlie. I think we are almost organised...”
Charlie smiled nervously. He feared he was annoying Karen, buzzing around her house like a fly. He didn’t want to be a burden or a nuisance to her. He stared at his sister in law and suddenly he felt like he was cherishing his time with her. He was starting to realise that these sweet simple days he had spent in her house would soon be coming to an end.
“You...you look beautiful today, Karen...” he murmured.
The words just tumbled out of Charlie’s mouth. Karen regarded him with surprise and uncertainty.
“Well, thank you, Charlie. You know, I might look a little fresher once I’ve got these rubber gloves off and I’ve had a chance to run a comb through my hair, but...”
“You’re a very beautiful person,” Charlie rambled on. “You’ve got such a beautiful family. I’m really...I’m so grateful that I’m part of your family. I just...I love you all so much. You know that, right? Liam knows I love him, doesn’t he?”
“Of course, Charlie!” she exclaimed. “We love you too.”
Charlie nodded, struggling to compose himself. “I just wanted to tell you. I just wanted you to know...just in case...I don’t get another chance to say it.”
Karen frowned at him; a look of fearful concern lighting in her eyes.
“What do you mean?” she asked sharply.
“Nothing!” He tried to smile, wishing to dispel her worries. “I’m sorry I...”
Charlie felt himself losing it. His hands were shaking and hot tears were spilling over his eyelids. Karen quickly stripped off her gloves and pulled him into a hug. They stood together for a moment, as Charlie wept against the soft wool of her cardigan. He clung to Karen like she was a life buoy in the middle of an ocean. When Charlie finally raised his head he saw Liam standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his face pinched and considerate.
“Charlie’s just come over all sentimental,” Karen said softly.
Liam reached out a hand and stroked it through his brother’s hair.
“Chin up mate,” he said stiffly. “Don’t cry...you’ll upset Meghan.”
Charlie nodded and sucked up his tears. He sat down in a quiet corner of the living room, watching Meghan giggle as she watched the Muppets Christmas Carol on TV. Later that evening Karen came in to read her daughter her bedtime story. Charlie didn’t try to get involved or interrupt. Karen glanced at him with a pitying stare and even asked him if he would like to read at one point. But Charlie shook his head and kept his eyes turned down. The book Karen was reading was ‘Alice Through the Looking Glass’. For some reason the story was making Charlie’s skin crawl. He didn’t want to be alone right now, but it felt like the island was invading his every moment.
Charlie excused himself and fled up the stairs. When he stepped into his bedroom he noticed that his guitar strap, several of his ties and various sharp objects had mysteriously disappeared from his shelves and drawers. Liam must have crept in and removed them while he was watching TV. Charlie rolled his eyes. They were making the house suicide proof. He supposed he had set himself up for that.
His day of busy chores had left him feeling exhausted. At first he thought he might sleep easily tonight. When he slipped into his dreams he found that they weren’t as vivid as usual. His dreams were filmy and blurred...
Then Charlie realised why.
He was underwater.