Everybody's Got Daddy Issues
Title: Everybody's Got Daddy Issues
Rating: PG
Characters: Charlie, Jack, Claire
Spoilers: season one
Summary: On the way back from the golf game in Solitary, Charlie discovers a multitude of parallels between a man he met in a bar in Sydney and Jack’s father. Written for the charlielives challenge #5: fanon as canon using pacejunkie’s fic Life In Hell as the basis. It’s recommended that you read it first to understand my fic btw.
Disclaimer: Charlie and Claire are mine. Jack however is not. And neither is Lost.
~*~
After the golf match had finished, almost everyone from the beach camp had decided to swing past the caves to fill up their water bottles before heading back home again. They made a rowdy bunch crashing through the jungle together, laughing and swinging golf clubs and patting Hurley on the back for organising the tournament.
Charlie walked back with Jack. Despite his disappointment that he had lost the tournament to the doctor, he was still glad of an opportunity to chat to him. They had become fast friends over the days that they had been stranded here - between one thing and another.
“I can’t believe you still beat me after you dislocated your shoulder like, three days ago,” Charlie grumbled as they passed through the opening to the caves. “That’s terrible.”
“We’ll have to do a rematch sometime,” Jack said smiling. “You just need to work on your accuracy a little more.”
“I’m plenty accurate,” Charlie said sourly. “My hands just tend to start getting twitchy at the wrong bloody time.”
“From your withdrawal?” Jack said, lowering his voice.
Charlie pressed his lips together and then he nodded curtly. “It’s not that bad. I can cope fine mostly but occasionally I’ll get a twitch or two. Nothing I haven’t had to deal with before.”
“Well if you ever need any help remember I’m here okay?” Jack told him as they made their way over to the stream where everyone was busily chatting away and filling their bottles up. Sawyer was busily trying to barter a bottle off Boone - it seemed that he had left all his own bottles back at the beach - but Boone wasn’t budging an inch.
“Come on boy!” Sawyer was saying. “It’s just one bottle. You want me to dehydrate on the way back to the beach?”
“To be honest I don’t really care if you die of dehydration,” Boone was saying indignantly. “You beat the crap out of me the other day!”
“You were going through my stuff!” Sawyer retorted, like it was an acceptable excuse.
“Here,” Jack interrupted, offering one of his own bottles to the disagreeable Yank. “Take one of mine.”
Sawyer merely stared at him for a moment, his face a mask of pure disgust before he scoffed and turned his back.
“I’d rather get damned heatstroke.”
Jack chuckled and shook his head at Sawyer’s retreating back. “And that’s why the Red Sox will never win the series.” He said absently and turned to go fill up his bottle but Charlie stopped him.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Huh?” Jack said. Charlie frowned, his mind prickling with familiarity as he turned the phrase over in his mind. He was sure that he’d heard it before somewhere but he just couldn’t quite place it.
“What you said about the Red Sox. What’s it mean?”
“Oh it’s just something that my dad used to say,” Jack told him vaguely. “Instead of taking responsibility for his actions he used to just say he was made to be hated so he might as well encourage it you know? I guess he just wanted a reason to believe that it wasn’t his fault if people didn’t like him.”
“Well he sounds like a fun bloke,” Charlie observed grimly and Jack laughed.
“Yeah he was a real barrel of laughs,” Jack grinned but then shifted uncomfortably for a moment before adding, “That’s why I was in Sydney - he decided to fly halfway across the world because he was depressed so I went to bring him home but I was too late. He drank himself to death.”
“Jesus,” Charlie said, wincing. “Sorry Jack.”
Jack shrugged. “Yeah well. I’m okay. You’ve gotta get on with it right?”
He continued on to the stream and Charlie trailed along behind him, mulling over his words.
“Your dad,” Charlie said slowly, his mind pulling fragments of a puzzle together even as he spoke. He might have obliterated himself on gin and heroin on his last night in Sydney but he still remembered the bitter old man who had talked to him in the bar about destiny as he did shot after shot of whiskey. “He an old bloke?”
“He was in his sixties and he had grey hair,” Jack said vaguely as he bent down to fill up his water bottle. “I guess you could call him old.” Straightening up, his brow furrowed in confusion as he turned to Charlie. “Why do you want to know about my father?”
“I met some random American bloke in a bar in Sydney is all,” Charlie said thoughtfully. “He said pretty much the same thing - that thing about the Red Sox? And he kept on babbling on about his son - he was a surgeon in America.”
Jack’s brow furrowed. “Was his name Christian?”
“I dunno,” Charlie said truthfully. “I never asked him.”
After a moment, Jack shrugged. “It may have been him. I guess there’s no way of knowing for sure is there?”
“I guess,” Charlie said just as Claire came waddling up out of nowhere, her blonde hair mussed and an empty water bottle in her hand. “Did you just wake up or something?” he said teasingly. “Your hair’s all over the place.”
Claire smoothed her hair down, blushing a little. “I fell asleep while I was waiting for you to come back.” She shook her head sending her blonde waves shivering. “You know I had the weirdest dream about my dad? I was etching a tattoo on his arm.”
“I’ll catch you two later,” Jack said, obviously sensing that Claire had come over for Charlie’s company and not his.
“Yeah see you Jack,” Charlie said distractedly as he nodded down at Claire’s empty bottle. “You want me to fill that up for you?”
“I was actually waiting for you to come back so you could fill it up for me,” Claire admitted sheepishly as she gratefully handed it to him. “I’m a bit scared of doing it myself in case I overbalance and fall into the stream. I don’t know if I could swim very well like this.”
“You’d probably be pretty buoyant actually,” Charlie teased. “I could use you as a floaty.”
Claire giggled quietly as he filled up her bottle and then handed it back to her before starting on his own.
“So what were you tattooing on your dads arm?” he asked her over his shoulder as she opened her bottle and took a sip.
“What?” Claire said, confused but then realisation dawned. “Oh right. In my dream. You know I can’t actually remember? I think it might’ve been a stethoscope. You know, one of those things that doctors use to listen to people’s hearts?”
“A stethoscope?” Charlie made a face as he stood up. “Who the hell would get a tattoo of a stethoscope on their arm?”
“Well,” Claire shrugged nonchalantly as the two of them made their way automatically back to the spread of cushions and blankets that served as her bed. They had taken to sitting there together and chatting since she had moved up here. “He is a doctor.”
“Looks like there are a lot of people here whose dads were doctors,” Charlie chuckled as he helped her sit and Claire eyed him curiously. “I was just talking to Jack about his dad,” he told her as he sat down beside her. “He was a doctor as well. I’m beginning to feel a bit out of the loop to be honest!”
“Well what did your dad do?” Claire asked curiously.
“Butcher,” Charlie said glibly as he sipped out of his own water bottle. “Ran his own shop and everything. He used to make me and my brother work there during the school holidays when it got busy.”
“My dad was chief of surgery or something I think,” Claire offered tentatively. “My aunt mentioned it once.”
“Oooh a surgeon,” Charlie said teasingly, his eyes sparkling. “Much more impressive than a doctor.”
“Yeah,” Claire rolled her eyes good naturedly. “Very impressive considering I haven’t seen him since I was seventeen.”
“Oh.” Charlie stopped short and then tried again. “Well…I haven’t seen my dad in a good five maybe six years either,” he said eventually, trying to make her feel better. “Stubborn old git didn’t like my choice of career - the last time I saw him we got in a fight and he threw a mutton bone at my head.”
“A mutton bone?” Claire giggled.
“Followed by an assortment of frozen poultry,” Charlie confirmed and Claire lapsed into a small bout of breathless giggles. “I reckon he’d be thrilled to see me here though - I’ve been putting all my butchering knowledge to task here with the fish that I’ve been catching.”
“My dad would probably just yell at me for getting myself knocked up so young,” Claire rolled her eyes again. “But then he always said that I was just like my mum.”
“So…you and your dad had a falling out then?” Charlie asked, guessing from the way that she was talking that it was about her pregnancy.
“Yeah,” Claire grimaced. “The last time I saw him we had a big fight. And he lives in the States anyway.”
“Another American doctor?” Charlie shook his head in amazement and then a thought struck him and he laughed out loud. “You know I’d laugh if your dad and Jack’s dad knew each other.”
“I wouldn’t,” Claire made a face. “That would just be weird.”
“You should ask him,” Charlie told her and Claire smiled indulgently.
“Yeah,” she said. “Maybe another day.”
Rating: PG
Characters: Charlie, Jack, Claire
Spoilers: season one
Summary: On the way back from the golf game in Solitary, Charlie discovers a multitude of parallels between a man he met in a bar in Sydney and Jack’s father. Written for the charlielives challenge #5: fanon as canon using pacejunkie’s fic Life In Hell as the basis. It’s recommended that you read it first to understand my fic btw.
Disclaimer: Charlie and Claire are mine. Jack however is not. And neither is Lost.
~*~
After the golf match had finished, almost everyone from the beach camp had decided to swing past the caves to fill up their water bottles before heading back home again. They made a rowdy bunch crashing through the jungle together, laughing and swinging golf clubs and patting Hurley on the back for organising the tournament.
Charlie walked back with Jack. Despite his disappointment that he had lost the tournament to the doctor, he was still glad of an opportunity to chat to him. They had become fast friends over the days that they had been stranded here - between one thing and another.
“I can’t believe you still beat me after you dislocated your shoulder like, three days ago,” Charlie grumbled as they passed through the opening to the caves. “That’s terrible.”
“We’ll have to do a rematch sometime,” Jack said smiling. “You just need to work on your accuracy a little more.”
“I’m plenty accurate,” Charlie said sourly. “My hands just tend to start getting twitchy at the wrong bloody time.”
“From your withdrawal?” Jack said, lowering his voice.
Charlie pressed his lips together and then he nodded curtly. “It’s not that bad. I can cope fine mostly but occasionally I’ll get a twitch or two. Nothing I haven’t had to deal with before.”
“Well if you ever need any help remember I’m here okay?” Jack told him as they made their way over to the stream where everyone was busily chatting away and filling their bottles up. Sawyer was busily trying to barter a bottle off Boone - it seemed that he had left all his own bottles back at the beach - but Boone wasn’t budging an inch.
“Come on boy!” Sawyer was saying. “It’s just one bottle. You want me to dehydrate on the way back to the beach?”
“To be honest I don’t really care if you die of dehydration,” Boone was saying indignantly. “You beat the crap out of me the other day!”
“You were going through my stuff!” Sawyer retorted, like it was an acceptable excuse.
“Here,” Jack interrupted, offering one of his own bottles to the disagreeable Yank. “Take one of mine.”
Sawyer merely stared at him for a moment, his face a mask of pure disgust before he scoffed and turned his back.
“I’d rather get damned heatstroke.”
Jack chuckled and shook his head at Sawyer’s retreating back. “And that’s why the Red Sox will never win the series.” He said absently and turned to go fill up his bottle but Charlie stopped him.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Huh?” Jack said. Charlie frowned, his mind prickling with familiarity as he turned the phrase over in his mind. He was sure that he’d heard it before somewhere but he just couldn’t quite place it.
“What you said about the Red Sox. What’s it mean?”
“Oh it’s just something that my dad used to say,” Jack told him vaguely. “Instead of taking responsibility for his actions he used to just say he was made to be hated so he might as well encourage it you know? I guess he just wanted a reason to believe that it wasn’t his fault if people didn’t like him.”
“Well he sounds like a fun bloke,” Charlie observed grimly and Jack laughed.
“Yeah he was a real barrel of laughs,” Jack grinned but then shifted uncomfortably for a moment before adding, “That’s why I was in Sydney - he decided to fly halfway across the world because he was depressed so I went to bring him home but I was too late. He drank himself to death.”
“Jesus,” Charlie said, wincing. “Sorry Jack.”
Jack shrugged. “Yeah well. I’m okay. You’ve gotta get on with it right?”
He continued on to the stream and Charlie trailed along behind him, mulling over his words.
“Your dad,” Charlie said slowly, his mind pulling fragments of a puzzle together even as he spoke. He might have obliterated himself on gin and heroin on his last night in Sydney but he still remembered the bitter old man who had talked to him in the bar about destiny as he did shot after shot of whiskey. “He an old bloke?”
“He was in his sixties and he had grey hair,” Jack said vaguely as he bent down to fill up his water bottle. “I guess you could call him old.” Straightening up, his brow furrowed in confusion as he turned to Charlie. “Why do you want to know about my father?”
“I met some random American bloke in a bar in Sydney is all,” Charlie said thoughtfully. “He said pretty much the same thing - that thing about the Red Sox? And he kept on babbling on about his son - he was a surgeon in America.”
Jack’s brow furrowed. “Was his name Christian?”
“I dunno,” Charlie said truthfully. “I never asked him.”
After a moment, Jack shrugged. “It may have been him. I guess there’s no way of knowing for sure is there?”
“I guess,” Charlie said just as Claire came waddling up out of nowhere, her blonde hair mussed and an empty water bottle in her hand. “Did you just wake up or something?” he said teasingly. “Your hair’s all over the place.”
Claire smoothed her hair down, blushing a little. “I fell asleep while I was waiting for you to come back.” She shook her head sending her blonde waves shivering. “You know I had the weirdest dream about my dad? I was etching a tattoo on his arm.”
“I’ll catch you two later,” Jack said, obviously sensing that Claire had come over for Charlie’s company and not his.
“Yeah see you Jack,” Charlie said distractedly as he nodded down at Claire’s empty bottle. “You want me to fill that up for you?”
“I was actually waiting for you to come back so you could fill it up for me,” Claire admitted sheepishly as she gratefully handed it to him. “I’m a bit scared of doing it myself in case I overbalance and fall into the stream. I don’t know if I could swim very well like this.”
“You’d probably be pretty buoyant actually,” Charlie teased. “I could use you as a floaty.”
Claire giggled quietly as he filled up her bottle and then handed it back to her before starting on his own.
“So what were you tattooing on your dads arm?” he asked her over his shoulder as she opened her bottle and took a sip.
“What?” Claire said, confused but then realisation dawned. “Oh right. In my dream. You know I can’t actually remember? I think it might’ve been a stethoscope. You know, one of those things that doctors use to listen to people’s hearts?”
“A stethoscope?” Charlie made a face as he stood up. “Who the hell would get a tattoo of a stethoscope on their arm?”
“Well,” Claire shrugged nonchalantly as the two of them made their way automatically back to the spread of cushions and blankets that served as her bed. They had taken to sitting there together and chatting since she had moved up here. “He is a doctor.”
“Looks like there are a lot of people here whose dads were doctors,” Charlie chuckled as he helped her sit and Claire eyed him curiously. “I was just talking to Jack about his dad,” he told her as he sat down beside her. “He was a doctor as well. I’m beginning to feel a bit out of the loop to be honest!”
“Well what did your dad do?” Claire asked curiously.
“Butcher,” Charlie said glibly as he sipped out of his own water bottle. “Ran his own shop and everything. He used to make me and my brother work there during the school holidays when it got busy.”
“My dad was chief of surgery or something I think,” Claire offered tentatively. “My aunt mentioned it once.”
“Oooh a surgeon,” Charlie said teasingly, his eyes sparkling. “Much more impressive than a doctor.”
“Yeah,” Claire rolled her eyes good naturedly. “Very impressive considering I haven’t seen him since I was seventeen.”
“Oh.” Charlie stopped short and then tried again. “Well…I haven’t seen my dad in a good five maybe six years either,” he said eventually, trying to make her feel better. “Stubborn old git didn’t like my choice of career - the last time I saw him we got in a fight and he threw a mutton bone at my head.”
“A mutton bone?” Claire giggled.
“Followed by an assortment of frozen poultry,” Charlie confirmed and Claire lapsed into a small bout of breathless giggles. “I reckon he’d be thrilled to see me here though - I’ve been putting all my butchering knowledge to task here with the fish that I’ve been catching.”
“My dad would probably just yell at me for getting myself knocked up so young,” Claire rolled her eyes again. “But then he always said that I was just like my mum.”
“So…you and your dad had a falling out then?” Charlie asked, guessing from the way that she was talking that it was about her pregnancy.
“Yeah,” Claire grimaced. “The last time I saw him we had a big fight. And he lives in the States anyway.”
“Another American doctor?” Charlie shook his head in amazement and then a thought struck him and he laughed out loud. “You know I’d laugh if your dad and Jack’s dad knew each other.”
“I wouldn’t,” Claire made a face. “That would just be weird.”
“You should ask him,” Charlie told her and Claire smiled indulgently.
“Yeah,” she said. “Maybe another day.”