It's Delicate
Title: It’s Delicate
Rating: G
Genre: fluff, angst, friendship
Characters: Charlie, Claire
Spoilers: up to …In Translation
Summary: Five missing conversations ranging from Tabula Rasa through to …In Translation. Written for lostfichallenge #70: season one.
Disclaimer: Charlie, Claire and Charlie/Claire do not belong to me - sadly. I hope you like my interpretation of them nevertheless. The title of this fic and the lyrics in the cut are from my favourite song ever, “Delicate” by the wonderful Damien Rice.
~*~
Claire feels guilty and more than a little bit worried. The guy that’s helping her with her suitcase…she just can’t seem to remember his name.
She remembers his face yes - the wide eyes that peer over his snub nose, the dark stubble and thick brows all topped with a crop of rumpled blonde hair that has undoubtedly been bleached. She remembers the tape wrapped around his fingers and the clunky ring on his right hand. She also remembers the chivalrous streak he seems to hide beneath his unlikely exterior. The first night he offered her a blanket and now he’s appeared out of nowhere again to help her with her suitcase, sweat beading on his brow as he labours along beside her in his long sleeved top.
But for the life of her she can’t remember his name and she feels bad because he only told her two days ago and from the way he’s acting she’s certain that he remembers hers.
As they struggle along the sand, the silence stretches between them and Claire thinks desperately of something to say to break the ice - preferably something that will allow her sneakily re-discover his name. But what on earth should she say? So…do you like…stuff? Fortunately for her, he beats her to it.
“How’s the baby?”
“It’s okay,” she says immediately, grateful that she didn’t have to start the conversation. “I think.”
He nods as he comes to a stop. “Good.” They both stop walking and he turns around to face her and Claire notices for the first time that he has blue eyes - like Thomas. She stops her thoughts abruptly at that. She doesn’t want to think about Thomas.
“So your...your husband,” he begins awkwardly, Claire automatically moving to help him take the suitcases off the wheelchair, him waving her hands away. “Was he on the flight?”
Claire barely suppresses a laugh at this. It’s almost like this guy can read her mind. “Oh, no, I’m not married.”
He drops the first suitcase on the ground with a resounding thud before standing up to look at her curiously.
“Oh.”
Claire’s not really sure how he’s reacting to this so tries to make a joke of it. “I know,” She snorts mirthlessly. “How modern of me.”
He doesn’t seem at all perturbed however and grins a little as he goes to lift the second suitcase. Claire moves to help him again and this time, he doesn’t resist. “Well, who needs men, right?” he asks, eyes twinkling. “Bloody useless.”
Claire can’t help it, her face breaks into a smile and she laughs before trying to find something else to say. She glances behind her at the island’s mountain peaks and then back to him. He was one of the ones who went on the hike wasn’t he? She decides to mention it anyway. “So, you guys hiked all the way up on that mountain for nothing, huh?”
He hesitates before answering. “Yeah. Bit of an anti climax really. Stupid transceiver thing didn’t even work.”
Claire nods as he rocks the wheelchair back and forth nervously in the sand. “It’s a shame,” she says, resting her hands on her swollen belly as though it might alleviate the aching in her lower back. “It could have helped the rescue party find us.”
“Yeah,” he’s looking distinctly uncomfortable now, leaning on the handles of the wheelchair and avoiding her gaze.
“They’ll find us eventually though,” Claire says persistently. She’s not quite sure why she’s pushing him like this. Maybe she just needs him to reassure her again that everything’s going to be all right but obviously he doesn’t pick up on it because he just grins a little awkwardly at her and nods.
“Yeah. Yeah they’ll find us eventually.”
A long silence falls between them and Claire clears her throat to break it.
“Well, um, thanks for helping me with my bag,” she says.
“No problems,” he says cheerfully, pats the wheelchair affectionately and then pauses. “Well I guess I’d better be off now. Lots of stuff to sort through - you know.”
“Sure,” Claire eyes a patch of clear sand not far away then continues talking, half to herself. “I might just go and sit for a while, my back is killing me.”
“Well that doesn’t surprise me,” he chuckles and indicates her belly. “If I had something that size on the front of me I reckon my back’d be pretty sore too.” He pauses for a moment and then continues hesitantly. “Do you want a hand? It must be hard for you to, you know, sit down and get up by yourself.”
Guiltiness be damned, Claire thinks and smiles at him. He’s the first person here to have initiated a conversation with her that’s gone for longer than three minutes and she’s actually enjoying his company which is even better.
“Sure,” she says and the two of them make their way away from the wreckage and down to the clean sand.
His hands feel calloused against her skin but his touch is surprisingly gentle as he helps her lower herself onto the sand and after only a moments hesitation he sits next to her to continue their conversation.
It isn’t until she begins asking him about the writing on the bandages on his fingers that she manages to pluck up the courage to ask him the question that’s been stressing her out since he first came up to her.
“What was your name again?”
The man looks up, startled. “Sorry?”
“What’s your name?” Claire repeats, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I know you told me the other night but I’ve met so many new people the past few days…”
“Oh. Right,” the man laughs it off but she gets the feeling that he’s still a little surprised by her question. “I’m Charlie. You’re Claire right?
“I’m Claire,” she confirms, feeling even guiltier because he did remember her name just like she thought. His name seems so obvious now - how could she have forgotten?
“Does your baby have a name yet?” Charlie asks interestedly as she splays her fingers tenderly across her stomach.
Claire laughs nervously. “I don’t even know what it is yet.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t think of names for it while its still in there,” Charlie reasons, gazing at her stomach. “Not that I’d know much about naming babies or anything. I don’t think I’ve even been near anyone this pregnant before. Well, except my sister in law but I didn’t see much of her when she was pregnant because I was away.”
Claire looks up at him and he gazes steadily back and then offers her a smile. His eyes are incredibly blue, bright in the sun, and they crinkle endearingly in the corners when he smiles. Her stomach floods with a sudden flock of butterflies and she smiles back, feeling suddenly shy.
You only just met him Claire.
I don’t care. He’s nice. I like him.
She reaches out and takes his hand…
“Here...”
…And places it gently on the side of her stomach.
The baby moves slightly at his touch and a look of delight crosses his face.
“Hey! It moved!”
Charlie grins madly at her for a moment and then looks back down at her stomach, amazed at the feel of the tiny foot kicking out at him.
And all Claire can think of to do then is to smile back at him.
~*~
Charlie was elated - absolutely euphoric. He was so pleased with himself that he was seriously considering buying a thesaurus and getting all the variations on ‘awesome’ and ‘happy’ he could find and scribbling them all over himself with a permanent marker and then dancing up and down the beach like a loon until somebody decided to handcuff him to the wreckage like they did to that Asian bloke the other day.
Claire had liked his peanut butter ruse. She had loved his peanut butter ruse. He had been terrified that she would just scoff and laugh and be disappointed but instead she had smiled and giggled and played along with him like they were a couple of kids playing pretend and then she had finally cracked and agreed to move up to the caves where it was safer and Charlie? Charlie was ecstatic.
He’d helped her pack her stuff too - all her books and clothes and whatever into her big paisley bag and then he’d helped her onto her feet (she was finding it harder and harder to get up by herself out of the sand) and she had jammed her bucket hat onto her head again and they had begun the long walk to the caves together, their arms swinging jauntily by their sides as they pushed their way through the sand.
“Whew! It’s hot out here,” Claire said, blowing a sweaty strand of hair out of her face and laughing as they tromped along. “I knew there was a reason I usually sleep through the afternoon heat.”
“Don’t worry,” Charlie told her, nudging her gently in the side and winking roguishly. “I have plenty of water and if you need to stop then just tell me okay? We’ll be under the trees in a minute anyway and it’s always cooler in the jungle. You’ll be able to take off your hat then!”
“I like my hat,” Claire said primly.
“Well I don’t,” Charlie teased her. “How am I supposed to see your beautiful eyes if you keep hiding them underneath that floppy brimmed monstrosity you’re wearing?”
Claire giggled. She seemed full of giggles today - or at least she did now. She had been laughing and smiling before but now…she was just too damned adorable. Glancing sideways at her Charlie marvelled at the soft flush on her cheekbones. She was all but glowing and God help him it wasn’t like staring into a set of car headlights on high beam. She all but blinded Charlie with her radiance.
What the hell did I ever do to deserve the attention of someone this beautiful?
“So where did you find the jar?”
“Huh?”
Claire rolled her eyes gently. “The jar of peanut butter Charlie. Somehow I don’t think that somebody would have just had a glass jar in their luggage.”
Charlie shrugged. “It was in the pile of possible water containers. Beyond that I dunno where it came from.”
“It just seems like a funny thing to pack on a trip to Los Angeles,” Claire mused and Charlie couldn’t help but crack a grin.
“Hark who’s calling the kettle black,” he muttered, deliberately making his voice loud enough that she could hear him.
“What?” Claire frowned, confused as they passed into the shadow of the trees. “What d’you mean?”
“Well,” Charlie said reflectively, holding back a stray branch so that Claire could continue on down the path at her ease. “I for one wouldn’t want to be taking a baby with me to Los Angeles - even if it was packed up all nice and safe and cosy inside me.”
Claire’s lips twitched.
“The image of you eight months pregnant is a bit scary Charlie.”
“Well if they can clone a sheep then why shouldn’t a bloke be able to have a baby?” Charlie asked but when Claire laughed at him he gave an indignant huff. “Go on - didn’t you ever watch that Arnold Schwarzenegger movie where they do some experiment where he gets pregnant?”
“What - Junior?” Charlie nodded in recognition but Claire wrinkled her nose distastefully. “I may have seen it once. I don’t really remember.”
“That man is a terrible actor,” Charlie shook his head. “I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve actually watched more than two of his films.”
“Oh yes because you’re so cultured,” Claire teased and Charlie pressed a hand to his heart, his face twisted in faux-pain.
“I admit myself wounded!” he informed her dramatically. “I’ll have you know that I am very cultured thank you very much.”
“Oh really?” Claire’s eyes sparkled devilishly as she tromped alongside him. “And uh…in what exactly are you cultured?”
“Music of course,” Charlie said proudly. “I am a musician by trade after all.”
“Since when?” Claire laughed. “You never mentioned it before.”
“Didn’t want to brag,” Charlie told her, grinning, and wondering if she’d take the bait.
Claire eyed him dubiously for a moment as she peeled her hat off and stowed it in her bag.
“You’re serious aren’t you?”
“About being a musician?” Charlie asked. “Absolutely. The bragging part might be a bit exaggerated though.”
“Didn’t quite make it to the top?” Claire guessed delicately.
“Oh no we made it to the top…” Charlie sighed and picked at the tape on his fingers, suddenly loathe to look at her any more. “…And then we fell all the way back down to the bottom again.”
Claire winced. “Ouch.”
“Yeah,” Charlie grimaced. “Ouch alright. I was never much chop at anything else apart from music and I wasn’t really all that fabulous a musician either.”
“You’ll have to play for me sometime,” Claire told him then added with a smile. “Then I can make up my own mind as to whether or not you’re just being modest about your talent.”
“Me? Modest?” Charlie snorted. “Luv, I used to be a rock star - I’m used to people fawning all over me like I’m the second coming of Christ.”
“And yet when I tried to thank you the other day for getting me some water you glossed over it like it was nothing,” Claire observed and Charlie ducked his head, caught out. Claire smiled and nudged him gently in the ribs. “Mr. Modest.”
Charlie shrugged her off, feeling surprisingly bashful and after a few minutes of relative silence he reached into his bag and handed her a bottle of water without a word.
“Oh,” she said, sounding almost surprised. “Thanks Charlie. I was just thinking I might need a drink soon. This humidity is almost worse than the heat on the beach.”
“Well if you start to get too hot then just tell me,” Charlie said immediately. “And we’ll stop and rest.”
“My hero,” she chuckled and Charlie glowed.
~*~
The morning was well and truly over now and the day was beginning to head into afternoon. Jack was anxious to ensnare Ethan before dusk but in order to get their fourth gunman, the hunting party first had to head to the beach to find Sawyer and so Jack had led a hasty trek from the caves and they had all followed him.
Locke and Sayid strode up the front with their illustrious leader, still scheming and planning amongst themselves. Claire meanwhile waddled along just behind them, studiously ignoring Charlie who was grumbling along several metres behind her. Despite being booted off the gun-team, he was refusing to let Claire do this without first trying his best to dissuade her from putting herself in danger.
“I just don’t see why we have to lure him out like this,” he kept on muttering. “It’s too dangerous for Claire with the baby. We could use someone else and shove a pillow down their shirt - how’s Ethan going to know the difference?”
“Because he’s obviously not that stupid,” Claire finally called back to him, irritably breaking her silence. “He’ll see straight through a disguise like that.”
“There has to be another way though,” he said, trotting up until he was alongside her, encouraged by the break in her frosty silence. She hadn’t said a word to him since before they had left the caves, had barely even looked at him in fact and Charlie was beginning to think that she was angrier than he had originally thought. “It’s not safe for you to…”
“Well really it’s not safe for any of us at the moment,” Claire pointed out and then eyed him meaningfully. “Least of all you Charlie.”
“Me?” he faltered, surprised. “You’re about to become the proverbial fish on the hook and you’re worried about me?” Claire flushed slightly and glanced up ahead at her soon-to-be-protectors, guiltily Charlie thought. “What?” he demanded. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Claire twisted her fingers together agitatedly, glancing sideways at him and Charlie couldn’t help but feel slightly apprehensive. Had somebody told her just how much of a blathering mess he’d been when she was gone? Or worse - his insides clenched with fear - had they let slip about his heroin addiction?
Charlie began to panic as she chewed nervously on her lower lip. Either revelation would have scared her witless. Add heroin addiction and obsessive-creepy-stalker onto him not telling her about Ethan and he might as well just throw in the towel now. She was never going to speak to him again.
“Jack told me what Ethan did to you,” Claire blurted suddenly and in his shock, Charlie stumbled to a halt, gawping at her. After a moment Claire stopped walking and turned to face him - but her eyes were downcast and her arms were crossed uncomfortably over her baby bump. “You know, when you tried to stop him from taking me? And when he found you yesterday out in the jungle...”
“Claire…” he began, but then stopped, barely even knowing how to begin.
“Charlie I want you to promise me that you won’t follow us,” she requested, still not quite looking at him. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt - and I really, really don’t want to see you get hurt for me. You’ve been so nice to me already and…I think you’ve done too much for me really.”
At this her eyes flickered to the barely-there bruises on his neck and she looked faintly sick.
Charlie just stood there, stunned, until Claire glanced over her shoulder and then back at Charlie, apologetically.
“We should catch up to the others before we get lost. We’re probably sitting ducks out here as it is.”
She turned and Charlie ached with the want to reach out and touch her - to grab hold of her and just shake some sense into her. Didn’t she understand that he couldn’t - he just couldn’t stand by and just watch her get taken again by this monster?
“Claire,” he called out, bleakly, but she had already waddled swiftly around a bend in the path and after only a moment’s hesitation and with a muffled sigh, he followed.
When they finally arrived at the beach Jack disappeared immediately to find Sawyer, organising to meet up with the remainder of the party outside Sayid’s tent. The group split away from Charlie, leaving him in the middle, torn.
He couldn’t just let Claire go like this - he wouldn’t. He had to try one last time to stop her or he’d never forgive himself if something happened...
“Claire,” he said her name softly as he caught her wrist. She glanced back at him in some surprise but then at the pleading look in his eyes she smiled bravely.
“I’ll be fine,” she told him.
He would’ve had to have been blind to have missed the flicker of fear in her eyes.
“Be careful,” he said quietly and then he released her wrist.
It was the first time that he’d touched her since she’d come home.
He watched from afar as not just Sawyer but also Kate joined Claire’s bodyguards. He simmered with jealousy as he noticed the extra gun that they had with them. Who cared if he didn’t know how to shoot? They could’ve shown him! He had never felt so useless and rejected in his entire life.
If he couldn’t even take care of Claire then what the bloody hell use was he to anyone?
The planning stage done, the group moved towards the jungle in a little huddle. Charlie watched them pensively from his position, leaning against a tree. None of the others paid him any heed, probably didn’t even realise that he was there watching.
Except for Claire.
She saw him standing there, looked for him and found him and stared at him and even from so far away their eyes met and Charlie felt a fierce burn from somewhere deep within his chest. How could she expect him to stay behind when she was out there putting herself in danger?
“I’m sorry Claire,” he murmured to her as she dropped her eyes and disappeared into the trees. “I can’t just stand here and do nothing.”
And with that, he slipped into the jungle.
~*~
She was sitting there on the sand all by herself, like a lonely guardian angel staring out to sea and for a moment he almost didn’t want to disturb the tranquillity of the scene before him. But then he saw the longing in her gaze as she looked off down the beach at the huddle of people building the raft and he felt his heart break a little.
It had taken Charlie a good few hours after Sayid had come to talk to him before he had felt brave enough to come and find her. He knew that he’d been short with Claire this morning but he hadn’t realised that she would just sit around all day waiting for him. He felt guilty now because despite her obvious wariness at all of his attentions, she was clearly still trying desperately to reconnect with him. She had waited all day for him and when he hadn’t come…God she must have thought that he was upset with her or something.
And he had just knocked her back this morning, not even thinking about the fact that even though he didn’t necessarily want to talk about the previous days events, that maybe she had some things that she wanted to sort through, things she wanted to ask him.
Determined to set things right, Charlie pushed through the sand, steeling himself for whatever would come once he had extended his hand to her. He could do this - he could walk with Claire, he could talk with her. Hell, it might even make him feel a bit better to know that she was willing to listen.
Her head was bowed, tendrils of her golden hair tickling at her cheeks when he called out to her. She startled at the sound of his voice, her expression hesitant and then she returned his greeting faintly, a pale smile wavering on her lips as he knelt down beside her in the sand. Charlie smiled creakily back at her and then asked, “You wanna take that walk now?”
And wonder of wonders - the doubtful expression on Claire’s face faded and she actually smiled at him.
“Sure,” she said comfortably and Charlie automatically reached out to help her to her feet. She accepted his help readily, supporting her lower back with one hand as she straightened, and then the two of them began to wander down the beach together.
It took several metres before Charlie finally managed to find his voice, his hands pushing awkwardly into his pockets as Claire toddled along beside him, trying to keep her equilibrium on the uneven sand.
“So,” he began, feeling far more nervous than the situation really deemed necessary. “You were saying this morning that you dreamt about me last night?”
“Well, that’s not exactly what I said,” Claire murmured. “I had some dreams and you were in them but you weren’t the only person who I saw.”
“I wasn’t the only one you dreamt about?” Charlie said, looking mock-upset. “I admit myself upset.”
“Charlie,” she said reprovingly, uncomfortable with his teasing.
“Alright, alright,” he apologised instantly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she said, her voice still soft, but now apologetic as well. “I’m just not…completely used to all of this yet. This place - the people here…” she shook her head momentarily as though it might somehow clear the clouds from her memory. “You and me…”
“More than fair enough,” Charlie tried for a laugh and was relieved when it didn’t come out strangled. “If some random who I could barely even remember was chasing around after me day and night then I’d be a bit freaked out too.”
“I’m not freaking out,” Claire said bemusedly. “I’m just a bit overwhelmed you know?”
“I know the feeling,” Charlie said grimly and Claire glanced sideways at him.
“I’ll bet,” she said thinly and Charlie kicked the sand nervously as she chewed on her lip the way she always did when she was trying to stop herself from blurting something out like... “Where…where were you this morning Charlie? Why wouldn’t you talk to me? I mean,” she ducked her head, embarrassed. “I get why you wouldn’t want to talk to anyone, least of all me but…”
“I was…I just had to bury him,” Charlie blurted out, surprising even himself with his direct frankness.
Claire stopped walking and turned to look at him. “Ethan.” She said his name with a lack of emotion that Charlie still couldn’t fathom. This was a man who had terrorised both of them, kidnapped Claire and held her hostage, hung him from a tree - and she didn’t even remember him except for his blood mingling with the rain as he lay dead beneath the trees, full of lead slugs from Charlie’s gun.
“Yeah,” he said after a pause. “Ethan.”
“It…” Claire paused as if to find the right words and then she tried again. “It must have been an awful feeling for you afterwards when…”
“No luv,” he sighed, feeling the dead weight of his conscience weighing heavily against his heart. “I mean yeah it doesn’t feel great…you know, shooting a guy and all but…it still feels like it was the smartest thing I’ve done up till now in my life.”
Something flitted across her face then and Charlie thought for a heart stopping instant that he may have really scared her with all his talk of no regrets and the blank, cold rage that seems to overtake him every time he thinks about Ethan touching even one hair on her golden head.
But to his surprise, she reached out and touched his arm, squeezing gently and she said the last thing he’d ever expected her to say.
“Thank you.”
~*~
It was just past dawn and the whole world seemed drenched with colour. The sand was burnished copper, the sky a flood of yellow and gold with just the merest hints of blue creeping up on the horizon.
Claire sighed contentedly and settled her weight back against the bank of sand that Charlie had scooped out for her yesterday afternoon so that she had something to lean against and could watch the waves rolling in and out, reflecting all the colours of the sky.
It was going to be a beautiful day.
A long way off down the beach Claire could just make out a slim, dark form kicking through the waves. There were several others huddled on the sand too, enjoying a reprieve from the hustle and bustle of the main camp. Claire thought she could see Charlie’s friend Hurley a little way up the beach and behind her but she didn’t have the mobility to turn properly and make sure.
No matter. She turned back to the horizon and drank it all in. All bugs and humidity aside, she really had ended up in a beautiful place. And she had (re)met some really lovely people who seemed to care a lot about her.
As if on cue, there was the crunch of footsteps behind her and then Charlie’s voice rang out with a cheerful greeting as he circled around and squatted down in front of her, two cups of tea gripped precariously in his hands.
“Hey,” Claire smiled in greeting, trying to sit up to accept her cuppa but Charlie shook his head.
“Don’t try to sit up,” he protested. “Here…” and with a cheeky sparkle in his eye, he balanced her cup precariously on her swollen belly. “Now we’ve got our own little coffee table.”
Claire smiled and tried hard not to giggle lest she jostle her cup and spill the precious contents. After nearly a month she had no idea where Charlie had managed to scrounge tea bags from but she certainly wasn’t complaining. Having a cup of tea with him first thing in the morning was rapidly becoming a comfortable ritual for her.
He took a sip of his own piping hot cup and then balanced it on the sand next to him before wrapping his arms around his knees and gazing at her.
“You shouldn’t be sitting here staring at me,” Claire said after a moment, gently teasing him. “You’re missing all the ocean views.”
“Why would I want to look at ocean?” Charlie raised a meaningful eyebrow and Claire blushed.
“You’re a terror.”
Looking rather pleased at this assessment, Charlie laughed before launching into his plans for the day which included doing more work on the shelter that they had been sharing. Charlie had already been living down on the beach again for a good week or so and Claire didn’t particularly like being up at the caves without him and so they had ended up sharing his ramshackle shelter.
“It’s a bit small for both of us to be sharing,” he pointed out. “I’ve been thinking about making it a bit bigger y’know? Maybe raising the bed up a bit higher so it’s easier for you to get in and out of it, fixing the roof so it’s a bit sturdier…”
“By the time you fix the bed I’ll probably have already had the baby,” Claire rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “And then I won’t need it to be up high anymore.”
Charlie shook a dismissive hand. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll get straight on it when I get back from the caves. We’re running low on water and I don’t want you to pass out from heat exhaustion again.”
Confused, Claire almost asked him when exactly she had passed out but then she realised that it was obviously before. Seeing the flickering of emotion on her face, Charlie relayed the story to her but all Claire was met with was a blank buzzing. It was as though it had never even happened to her - like Charlie was telling her about some other pregnant girl he had rescued.
“I don’t remember that at all,” Claire said shaking her head, upset. “God this sucks.”
“You’ll get it back,” Charlie said encouragingly. “You’re already remembering little bits and pieces here and there.”
“Yeah but nothing that makes any real sense,” Claire said sourly. “It’s like trying to do a thousand piece puzzle without any idea of what the picture on the box looks like.”
“It’ll come back to you,” he insisted. “Just…don’t stress out about it okay? It’s not good for the baby.”
“I know,” Claire sighed. “It’s just so…”
“Frustrating?”
Claire glanced up at him and the two of them shared a goofily solemn nod.
“Exactly.”
And at that exact moment, her baby decided that her ribs needed a good kicking in.
Claire gasped out loud and Charlie swooped down on her cup of tea, scooping it off her belly before it could spill and burn her skin.
“Is it a contraction?” he asked, leaning forward worriedly but Claire shook her head.
“No, he just kicked is all.”
“Must’ve just woken up,” Charlie observed, watching as the skin distended and stretched over the tiny form stretching inside her belly. “Cheeky little thing isn’t he? Interrupting our conversation like that.”
“I’ve definitely got a soccer player on my hands that’s for sure,” Claire rolled her eyes and then caught her breath as the baby kicked out again.
“Can I…?” Charlie’s hand hovered over her belly. Claire nodded wordlessly and guided Charlie’s hand to where the baby’s head was and then along its tiny spine. His face shone with happiness and he shook his head in wonder as he ran his hand over the swell of her stomach. “I swear to God, I am never going to get sick of feeling this baby kick.”
“Well that makes one of us,” Claire muttered and Charlie chuckled before withdrawing his hand.
“You’d better finish your tea,” he said, holding out her mug. “Before it goes cold.”
Claire took it and then Charlie picked up his own, clinking their plastic mugs together gently in a mock-toast.
“To rescue,” Claire said unthinkingly and Charlie blinked in surprise but then returned the toast.
“To rescue.”
Rating: G
Genre: fluff, angst, friendship
Characters: Charlie, Claire
Spoilers: up to …In Translation
Summary: Five missing conversations ranging from Tabula Rasa through to …In Translation. Written for lostfichallenge #70: season one.
Disclaimer: Charlie, Claire and Charlie/Claire do not belong to me - sadly. I hope you like my interpretation of them nevertheless. The title of this fic and the lyrics in the cut are from my favourite song ever, “Delicate” by the wonderful Damien Rice.
~*~
Claire feels guilty and more than a little bit worried. The guy that’s helping her with her suitcase…she just can’t seem to remember his name.
She remembers his face yes - the wide eyes that peer over his snub nose, the dark stubble and thick brows all topped with a crop of rumpled blonde hair that has undoubtedly been bleached. She remembers the tape wrapped around his fingers and the clunky ring on his right hand. She also remembers the chivalrous streak he seems to hide beneath his unlikely exterior. The first night he offered her a blanket and now he’s appeared out of nowhere again to help her with her suitcase, sweat beading on his brow as he labours along beside her in his long sleeved top.
But for the life of her she can’t remember his name and she feels bad because he only told her two days ago and from the way he’s acting she’s certain that he remembers hers.
As they struggle along the sand, the silence stretches between them and Claire thinks desperately of something to say to break the ice - preferably something that will allow her sneakily re-discover his name. But what on earth should she say? So…do you like…stuff? Fortunately for her, he beats her to it.
“How’s the baby?”
“It’s okay,” she says immediately, grateful that she didn’t have to start the conversation. “I think.”
He nods as he comes to a stop. “Good.” They both stop walking and he turns around to face her and Claire notices for the first time that he has blue eyes - like Thomas. She stops her thoughts abruptly at that. She doesn’t want to think about Thomas.
“So your...your husband,” he begins awkwardly, Claire automatically moving to help him take the suitcases off the wheelchair, him waving her hands away. “Was he on the flight?”
Claire barely suppresses a laugh at this. It’s almost like this guy can read her mind. “Oh, no, I’m not married.”
He drops the first suitcase on the ground with a resounding thud before standing up to look at her curiously.
“Oh.”
Claire’s not really sure how he’s reacting to this so tries to make a joke of it. “I know,” She snorts mirthlessly. “How modern of me.”
He doesn’t seem at all perturbed however and grins a little as he goes to lift the second suitcase. Claire moves to help him again and this time, he doesn’t resist. “Well, who needs men, right?” he asks, eyes twinkling. “Bloody useless.”
Claire can’t help it, her face breaks into a smile and she laughs before trying to find something else to say. She glances behind her at the island’s mountain peaks and then back to him. He was one of the ones who went on the hike wasn’t he? She decides to mention it anyway. “So, you guys hiked all the way up on that mountain for nothing, huh?”
He hesitates before answering. “Yeah. Bit of an anti climax really. Stupid transceiver thing didn’t even work.”
Claire nods as he rocks the wheelchair back and forth nervously in the sand. “It’s a shame,” she says, resting her hands on her swollen belly as though it might alleviate the aching in her lower back. “It could have helped the rescue party find us.”
“Yeah,” he’s looking distinctly uncomfortable now, leaning on the handles of the wheelchair and avoiding her gaze.
“They’ll find us eventually though,” Claire says persistently. She’s not quite sure why she’s pushing him like this. Maybe she just needs him to reassure her again that everything’s going to be all right but obviously he doesn’t pick up on it because he just grins a little awkwardly at her and nods.
“Yeah. Yeah they’ll find us eventually.”
A long silence falls between them and Claire clears her throat to break it.
“Well, um, thanks for helping me with my bag,” she says.
“No problems,” he says cheerfully, pats the wheelchair affectionately and then pauses. “Well I guess I’d better be off now. Lots of stuff to sort through - you know.”
“Sure,” Claire eyes a patch of clear sand not far away then continues talking, half to herself. “I might just go and sit for a while, my back is killing me.”
“Well that doesn’t surprise me,” he chuckles and indicates her belly. “If I had something that size on the front of me I reckon my back’d be pretty sore too.” He pauses for a moment and then continues hesitantly. “Do you want a hand? It must be hard for you to, you know, sit down and get up by yourself.”
Guiltiness be damned, Claire thinks and smiles at him. He’s the first person here to have initiated a conversation with her that’s gone for longer than three minutes and she’s actually enjoying his company which is even better.
“Sure,” she says and the two of them make their way away from the wreckage and down to the clean sand.
His hands feel calloused against her skin but his touch is surprisingly gentle as he helps her lower herself onto the sand and after only a moments hesitation he sits next to her to continue their conversation.
It isn’t until she begins asking him about the writing on the bandages on his fingers that she manages to pluck up the courage to ask him the question that’s been stressing her out since he first came up to her.
“What was your name again?”
The man looks up, startled. “Sorry?”
“What’s your name?” Claire repeats, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I know you told me the other night but I’ve met so many new people the past few days…”
“Oh. Right,” the man laughs it off but she gets the feeling that he’s still a little surprised by her question. “I’m Charlie. You’re Claire right?
“I’m Claire,” she confirms, feeling even guiltier because he did remember her name just like she thought. His name seems so obvious now - how could she have forgotten?
“Does your baby have a name yet?” Charlie asks interestedly as she splays her fingers tenderly across her stomach.
Claire laughs nervously. “I don’t even know what it is yet.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t think of names for it while its still in there,” Charlie reasons, gazing at her stomach. “Not that I’d know much about naming babies or anything. I don’t think I’ve even been near anyone this pregnant before. Well, except my sister in law but I didn’t see much of her when she was pregnant because I was away.”
Claire looks up at him and he gazes steadily back and then offers her a smile. His eyes are incredibly blue, bright in the sun, and they crinkle endearingly in the corners when he smiles. Her stomach floods with a sudden flock of butterflies and she smiles back, feeling suddenly shy.
You only just met him Claire.
I don’t care. He’s nice. I like him.
She reaches out and takes his hand…
“Here...”
…And places it gently on the side of her stomach.
The baby moves slightly at his touch and a look of delight crosses his face.
“Hey! It moved!”
Charlie grins madly at her for a moment and then looks back down at her stomach, amazed at the feel of the tiny foot kicking out at him.
And all Claire can think of to do then is to smile back at him.
~*~
Charlie was elated - absolutely euphoric. He was so pleased with himself that he was seriously considering buying a thesaurus and getting all the variations on ‘awesome’ and ‘happy’ he could find and scribbling them all over himself with a permanent marker and then dancing up and down the beach like a loon until somebody decided to handcuff him to the wreckage like they did to that Asian bloke the other day.
Claire had liked his peanut butter ruse. She had loved his peanut butter ruse. He had been terrified that she would just scoff and laugh and be disappointed but instead she had smiled and giggled and played along with him like they were a couple of kids playing pretend and then she had finally cracked and agreed to move up to the caves where it was safer and Charlie? Charlie was ecstatic.
He’d helped her pack her stuff too - all her books and clothes and whatever into her big paisley bag and then he’d helped her onto her feet (she was finding it harder and harder to get up by herself out of the sand) and she had jammed her bucket hat onto her head again and they had begun the long walk to the caves together, their arms swinging jauntily by their sides as they pushed their way through the sand.
“Whew! It’s hot out here,” Claire said, blowing a sweaty strand of hair out of her face and laughing as they tromped along. “I knew there was a reason I usually sleep through the afternoon heat.”
“Don’t worry,” Charlie told her, nudging her gently in the side and winking roguishly. “I have plenty of water and if you need to stop then just tell me okay? We’ll be under the trees in a minute anyway and it’s always cooler in the jungle. You’ll be able to take off your hat then!”
“I like my hat,” Claire said primly.
“Well I don’t,” Charlie teased her. “How am I supposed to see your beautiful eyes if you keep hiding them underneath that floppy brimmed monstrosity you’re wearing?”
Claire giggled. She seemed full of giggles today - or at least she did now. She had been laughing and smiling before but now…she was just too damned adorable. Glancing sideways at her Charlie marvelled at the soft flush on her cheekbones. She was all but glowing and God help him it wasn’t like staring into a set of car headlights on high beam. She all but blinded Charlie with her radiance.
What the hell did I ever do to deserve the attention of someone this beautiful?
“So where did you find the jar?”
“Huh?”
Claire rolled her eyes gently. “The jar of peanut butter Charlie. Somehow I don’t think that somebody would have just had a glass jar in their luggage.”
Charlie shrugged. “It was in the pile of possible water containers. Beyond that I dunno where it came from.”
“It just seems like a funny thing to pack on a trip to Los Angeles,” Claire mused and Charlie couldn’t help but crack a grin.
“Hark who’s calling the kettle black,” he muttered, deliberately making his voice loud enough that she could hear him.
“What?” Claire frowned, confused as they passed into the shadow of the trees. “What d’you mean?”
“Well,” Charlie said reflectively, holding back a stray branch so that Claire could continue on down the path at her ease. “I for one wouldn’t want to be taking a baby with me to Los Angeles - even if it was packed up all nice and safe and cosy inside me.”
Claire’s lips twitched.
“The image of you eight months pregnant is a bit scary Charlie.”
“Well if they can clone a sheep then why shouldn’t a bloke be able to have a baby?” Charlie asked but when Claire laughed at him he gave an indignant huff. “Go on - didn’t you ever watch that Arnold Schwarzenegger movie where they do some experiment where he gets pregnant?”
“What - Junior?” Charlie nodded in recognition but Claire wrinkled her nose distastefully. “I may have seen it once. I don’t really remember.”
“That man is a terrible actor,” Charlie shook his head. “I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve actually watched more than two of his films.”
“Oh yes because you’re so cultured,” Claire teased and Charlie pressed a hand to his heart, his face twisted in faux-pain.
“I admit myself wounded!” he informed her dramatically. “I’ll have you know that I am very cultured thank you very much.”
“Oh really?” Claire’s eyes sparkled devilishly as she tromped alongside him. “And uh…in what exactly are you cultured?”
“Music of course,” Charlie said proudly. “I am a musician by trade after all.”
“Since when?” Claire laughed. “You never mentioned it before.”
“Didn’t want to brag,” Charlie told her, grinning, and wondering if she’d take the bait.
Claire eyed him dubiously for a moment as she peeled her hat off and stowed it in her bag.
“You’re serious aren’t you?”
“About being a musician?” Charlie asked. “Absolutely. The bragging part might be a bit exaggerated though.”
“Didn’t quite make it to the top?” Claire guessed delicately.
“Oh no we made it to the top…” Charlie sighed and picked at the tape on his fingers, suddenly loathe to look at her any more. “…And then we fell all the way back down to the bottom again.”
Claire winced. “Ouch.”
“Yeah,” Charlie grimaced. “Ouch alright. I was never much chop at anything else apart from music and I wasn’t really all that fabulous a musician either.”
“You’ll have to play for me sometime,” Claire told him then added with a smile. “Then I can make up my own mind as to whether or not you’re just being modest about your talent.”
“Me? Modest?” Charlie snorted. “Luv, I used to be a rock star - I’m used to people fawning all over me like I’m the second coming of Christ.”
“And yet when I tried to thank you the other day for getting me some water you glossed over it like it was nothing,” Claire observed and Charlie ducked his head, caught out. Claire smiled and nudged him gently in the ribs. “Mr. Modest.”
Charlie shrugged her off, feeling surprisingly bashful and after a few minutes of relative silence he reached into his bag and handed her a bottle of water without a word.
“Oh,” she said, sounding almost surprised. “Thanks Charlie. I was just thinking I might need a drink soon. This humidity is almost worse than the heat on the beach.”
“Well if you start to get too hot then just tell me,” Charlie said immediately. “And we’ll stop and rest.”
“My hero,” she chuckled and Charlie glowed.
~*~
The morning was well and truly over now and the day was beginning to head into afternoon. Jack was anxious to ensnare Ethan before dusk but in order to get their fourth gunman, the hunting party first had to head to the beach to find Sawyer and so Jack had led a hasty trek from the caves and they had all followed him.
Locke and Sayid strode up the front with their illustrious leader, still scheming and planning amongst themselves. Claire meanwhile waddled along just behind them, studiously ignoring Charlie who was grumbling along several metres behind her. Despite being booted off the gun-team, he was refusing to let Claire do this without first trying his best to dissuade her from putting herself in danger.
“I just don’t see why we have to lure him out like this,” he kept on muttering. “It’s too dangerous for Claire with the baby. We could use someone else and shove a pillow down their shirt - how’s Ethan going to know the difference?”
“Because he’s obviously not that stupid,” Claire finally called back to him, irritably breaking her silence. “He’ll see straight through a disguise like that.”
“There has to be another way though,” he said, trotting up until he was alongside her, encouraged by the break in her frosty silence. She hadn’t said a word to him since before they had left the caves, had barely even looked at him in fact and Charlie was beginning to think that she was angrier than he had originally thought. “It’s not safe for you to…”
“Well really it’s not safe for any of us at the moment,” Claire pointed out and then eyed him meaningfully. “Least of all you Charlie.”
“Me?” he faltered, surprised. “You’re about to become the proverbial fish on the hook and you’re worried about me?” Claire flushed slightly and glanced up ahead at her soon-to-be-protectors, guiltily Charlie thought. “What?” he demanded. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Claire twisted her fingers together agitatedly, glancing sideways at him and Charlie couldn’t help but feel slightly apprehensive. Had somebody told her just how much of a blathering mess he’d been when she was gone? Or worse - his insides clenched with fear - had they let slip about his heroin addiction?
Charlie began to panic as she chewed nervously on her lower lip. Either revelation would have scared her witless. Add heroin addiction and obsessive-creepy-stalker onto him not telling her about Ethan and he might as well just throw in the towel now. She was never going to speak to him again.
“Jack told me what Ethan did to you,” Claire blurted suddenly and in his shock, Charlie stumbled to a halt, gawping at her. After a moment Claire stopped walking and turned to face him - but her eyes were downcast and her arms were crossed uncomfortably over her baby bump. “You know, when you tried to stop him from taking me? And when he found you yesterday out in the jungle...”
“Claire…” he began, but then stopped, barely even knowing how to begin.
“Charlie I want you to promise me that you won’t follow us,” she requested, still not quite looking at him. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt - and I really, really don’t want to see you get hurt for me. You’ve been so nice to me already and…I think you’ve done too much for me really.”
At this her eyes flickered to the barely-there bruises on his neck and she looked faintly sick.
Charlie just stood there, stunned, until Claire glanced over her shoulder and then back at Charlie, apologetically.
“We should catch up to the others before we get lost. We’re probably sitting ducks out here as it is.”
She turned and Charlie ached with the want to reach out and touch her - to grab hold of her and just shake some sense into her. Didn’t she understand that he couldn’t - he just couldn’t stand by and just watch her get taken again by this monster?
“Claire,” he called out, bleakly, but she had already waddled swiftly around a bend in the path and after only a moment’s hesitation and with a muffled sigh, he followed.
When they finally arrived at the beach Jack disappeared immediately to find Sawyer, organising to meet up with the remainder of the party outside Sayid’s tent. The group split away from Charlie, leaving him in the middle, torn.
He couldn’t just let Claire go like this - he wouldn’t. He had to try one last time to stop her or he’d never forgive himself if something happened...
“Claire,” he said her name softly as he caught her wrist. She glanced back at him in some surprise but then at the pleading look in his eyes she smiled bravely.
“I’ll be fine,” she told him.
He would’ve had to have been blind to have missed the flicker of fear in her eyes.
“Be careful,” he said quietly and then he released her wrist.
It was the first time that he’d touched her since she’d come home.
He watched from afar as not just Sawyer but also Kate joined Claire’s bodyguards. He simmered with jealousy as he noticed the extra gun that they had with them. Who cared if he didn’t know how to shoot? They could’ve shown him! He had never felt so useless and rejected in his entire life.
If he couldn’t even take care of Claire then what the bloody hell use was he to anyone?
The planning stage done, the group moved towards the jungle in a little huddle. Charlie watched them pensively from his position, leaning against a tree. None of the others paid him any heed, probably didn’t even realise that he was there watching.
Except for Claire.
She saw him standing there, looked for him and found him and stared at him and even from so far away their eyes met and Charlie felt a fierce burn from somewhere deep within his chest. How could she expect him to stay behind when she was out there putting herself in danger?
“I’m sorry Claire,” he murmured to her as she dropped her eyes and disappeared into the trees. “I can’t just stand here and do nothing.”
And with that, he slipped into the jungle.
~*~
She was sitting there on the sand all by herself, like a lonely guardian angel staring out to sea and for a moment he almost didn’t want to disturb the tranquillity of the scene before him. But then he saw the longing in her gaze as she looked off down the beach at the huddle of people building the raft and he felt his heart break a little.
It had taken Charlie a good few hours after Sayid had come to talk to him before he had felt brave enough to come and find her. He knew that he’d been short with Claire this morning but he hadn’t realised that she would just sit around all day waiting for him. He felt guilty now because despite her obvious wariness at all of his attentions, she was clearly still trying desperately to reconnect with him. She had waited all day for him and when he hadn’t come…God she must have thought that he was upset with her or something.
And he had just knocked her back this morning, not even thinking about the fact that even though he didn’t necessarily want to talk about the previous days events, that maybe she had some things that she wanted to sort through, things she wanted to ask him.
Determined to set things right, Charlie pushed through the sand, steeling himself for whatever would come once he had extended his hand to her. He could do this - he could walk with Claire, he could talk with her. Hell, it might even make him feel a bit better to know that she was willing to listen.
Her head was bowed, tendrils of her golden hair tickling at her cheeks when he called out to her. She startled at the sound of his voice, her expression hesitant and then she returned his greeting faintly, a pale smile wavering on her lips as he knelt down beside her in the sand. Charlie smiled creakily back at her and then asked, “You wanna take that walk now?”
And wonder of wonders - the doubtful expression on Claire’s face faded and she actually smiled at him.
“Sure,” she said comfortably and Charlie automatically reached out to help her to her feet. She accepted his help readily, supporting her lower back with one hand as she straightened, and then the two of them began to wander down the beach together.
It took several metres before Charlie finally managed to find his voice, his hands pushing awkwardly into his pockets as Claire toddled along beside him, trying to keep her equilibrium on the uneven sand.
“So,” he began, feeling far more nervous than the situation really deemed necessary. “You were saying this morning that you dreamt about me last night?”
“Well, that’s not exactly what I said,” Claire murmured. “I had some dreams and you were in them but you weren’t the only person who I saw.”
“I wasn’t the only one you dreamt about?” Charlie said, looking mock-upset. “I admit myself upset.”
“Charlie,” she said reprovingly, uncomfortable with his teasing.
“Alright, alright,” he apologised instantly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she said, her voice still soft, but now apologetic as well. “I’m just not…completely used to all of this yet. This place - the people here…” she shook her head momentarily as though it might somehow clear the clouds from her memory. “You and me…”
“More than fair enough,” Charlie tried for a laugh and was relieved when it didn’t come out strangled. “If some random who I could barely even remember was chasing around after me day and night then I’d be a bit freaked out too.”
“I’m not freaking out,” Claire said bemusedly. “I’m just a bit overwhelmed you know?”
“I know the feeling,” Charlie said grimly and Claire glanced sideways at him.
“I’ll bet,” she said thinly and Charlie kicked the sand nervously as she chewed on her lip the way she always did when she was trying to stop herself from blurting something out like... “Where…where were you this morning Charlie? Why wouldn’t you talk to me? I mean,” she ducked her head, embarrassed. “I get why you wouldn’t want to talk to anyone, least of all me but…”
“I was…I just had to bury him,” Charlie blurted out, surprising even himself with his direct frankness.
Claire stopped walking and turned to look at him. “Ethan.” She said his name with a lack of emotion that Charlie still couldn’t fathom. This was a man who had terrorised both of them, kidnapped Claire and held her hostage, hung him from a tree - and she didn’t even remember him except for his blood mingling with the rain as he lay dead beneath the trees, full of lead slugs from Charlie’s gun.
“Yeah,” he said after a pause. “Ethan.”
“It…” Claire paused as if to find the right words and then she tried again. “It must have been an awful feeling for you afterwards when…”
“No luv,” he sighed, feeling the dead weight of his conscience weighing heavily against his heart. “I mean yeah it doesn’t feel great…you know, shooting a guy and all but…it still feels like it was the smartest thing I’ve done up till now in my life.”
Something flitted across her face then and Charlie thought for a heart stopping instant that he may have really scared her with all his talk of no regrets and the blank, cold rage that seems to overtake him every time he thinks about Ethan touching even one hair on her golden head.
But to his surprise, she reached out and touched his arm, squeezing gently and she said the last thing he’d ever expected her to say.
“Thank you.”
~*~
It was just past dawn and the whole world seemed drenched with colour. The sand was burnished copper, the sky a flood of yellow and gold with just the merest hints of blue creeping up on the horizon.
Claire sighed contentedly and settled her weight back against the bank of sand that Charlie had scooped out for her yesterday afternoon so that she had something to lean against and could watch the waves rolling in and out, reflecting all the colours of the sky.
It was going to be a beautiful day.
A long way off down the beach Claire could just make out a slim, dark form kicking through the waves. There were several others huddled on the sand too, enjoying a reprieve from the hustle and bustle of the main camp. Claire thought she could see Charlie’s friend Hurley a little way up the beach and behind her but she didn’t have the mobility to turn properly and make sure.
No matter. She turned back to the horizon and drank it all in. All bugs and humidity aside, she really had ended up in a beautiful place. And she had (re)met some really lovely people who seemed to care a lot about her.
As if on cue, there was the crunch of footsteps behind her and then Charlie’s voice rang out with a cheerful greeting as he circled around and squatted down in front of her, two cups of tea gripped precariously in his hands.
“Hey,” Claire smiled in greeting, trying to sit up to accept her cuppa but Charlie shook his head.
“Don’t try to sit up,” he protested. “Here…” and with a cheeky sparkle in his eye, he balanced her cup precariously on her swollen belly. “Now we’ve got our own little coffee table.”
Claire smiled and tried hard not to giggle lest she jostle her cup and spill the precious contents. After nearly a month she had no idea where Charlie had managed to scrounge tea bags from but she certainly wasn’t complaining. Having a cup of tea with him first thing in the morning was rapidly becoming a comfortable ritual for her.
He took a sip of his own piping hot cup and then balanced it on the sand next to him before wrapping his arms around his knees and gazing at her.
“You shouldn’t be sitting here staring at me,” Claire said after a moment, gently teasing him. “You’re missing all the ocean views.”
“Why would I want to look at ocean?” Charlie raised a meaningful eyebrow and Claire blushed.
“You’re a terror.”
Looking rather pleased at this assessment, Charlie laughed before launching into his plans for the day which included doing more work on the shelter that they had been sharing. Charlie had already been living down on the beach again for a good week or so and Claire didn’t particularly like being up at the caves without him and so they had ended up sharing his ramshackle shelter.
“It’s a bit small for both of us to be sharing,” he pointed out. “I’ve been thinking about making it a bit bigger y’know? Maybe raising the bed up a bit higher so it’s easier for you to get in and out of it, fixing the roof so it’s a bit sturdier…”
“By the time you fix the bed I’ll probably have already had the baby,” Claire rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “And then I won’t need it to be up high anymore.”
Charlie shook a dismissive hand. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll get straight on it when I get back from the caves. We’re running low on water and I don’t want you to pass out from heat exhaustion again.”
Confused, Claire almost asked him when exactly she had passed out but then she realised that it was obviously before. Seeing the flickering of emotion on her face, Charlie relayed the story to her but all Claire was met with was a blank buzzing. It was as though it had never even happened to her - like Charlie was telling her about some other pregnant girl he had rescued.
“I don’t remember that at all,” Claire said shaking her head, upset. “God this sucks.”
“You’ll get it back,” Charlie said encouragingly. “You’re already remembering little bits and pieces here and there.”
“Yeah but nothing that makes any real sense,” Claire said sourly. “It’s like trying to do a thousand piece puzzle without any idea of what the picture on the box looks like.”
“It’ll come back to you,” he insisted. “Just…don’t stress out about it okay? It’s not good for the baby.”
“I know,” Claire sighed. “It’s just so…”
“Frustrating?”
Claire glanced up at him and the two of them shared a goofily solemn nod.
“Exactly.”
And at that exact moment, her baby decided that her ribs needed a good kicking in.
Claire gasped out loud and Charlie swooped down on her cup of tea, scooping it off her belly before it could spill and burn her skin.
“Is it a contraction?” he asked, leaning forward worriedly but Claire shook her head.
“No, he just kicked is all.”
“Must’ve just woken up,” Charlie observed, watching as the skin distended and stretched over the tiny form stretching inside her belly. “Cheeky little thing isn’t he? Interrupting our conversation like that.”
“I’ve definitely got a soccer player on my hands that’s for sure,” Claire rolled her eyes and then caught her breath as the baby kicked out again.
“Can I…?” Charlie’s hand hovered over her belly. Claire nodded wordlessly and guided Charlie’s hand to where the baby’s head was and then along its tiny spine. His face shone with happiness and he shook his head in wonder as he ran his hand over the swell of her stomach. “I swear to God, I am never going to get sick of feeling this baby kick.”
“Well that makes one of us,” Claire muttered and Charlie chuckled before withdrawing his hand.
“You’d better finish your tea,” he said, holding out her mug. “Before it goes cold.”
Claire took it and then Charlie picked up his own, clinking their plastic mugs together gently in a mock-toast.
“To rescue,” Claire said unthinkingly and Charlie blinked in surprise but then returned the toast.
“To rescue.”