No Sanctuary 2/2
I claimed Charlie and Claire over on 50_darkfics
Title: No Sanctuary 2/2
Characters: Charlie, redshirts, Eko, Locke, Jack, Claire
Prompt: 17. fear
Word Count: 5002
Rating/warnings: strong R. Non-con, slash, violence, coarse language. And horror of horrors - FLANGST.
Summary: AU post-F+W. When Charlie is attacked by another castaway in his own tent he begins to fear for his life. But who would be willing to keep him safe when the entire camp seems set against him?
Disclaimer: don’t own Lost or William Goldings “The Lord of the Flies” which I have referenced within.
Dedicated: to falafel_fiction who came up with the original idea for this. I hope it's everything you ever dreamed of!
NB: References of my own personal Confidence Man era canon within ala this fic.
Read part one here.
~*~
He needed protection - that much Charlie was certain of. He couldn’t keep staying up the other end of the beach where he was so isolated. If somebody could break into his tent and…and do what that bloke had done to him last night then they could just as easily come in and attack him with something more sinister.
He didn’t have a gun or knives - and he certainly wouldn’t be able to steal a weapon off somebody else. Nobody trusted him with empty water bottles at the moment, let alone a hunting knife. He wandered the beach in circles and loops, losing all hope until he caught sight of a half finished wooden frame - the beginnings of Eko’s building, whatever it was.
Despite his displeasure at Eko’s recent behaviour - getting him in the wrong with Claire, telling him that Aaron needed to be baptised and then saying that he’d never said anything about it…well the guy was pretty much built like a tank. Charlie was small, vulnerable, weak from not eating. Surely the priest would take pity on him and let him camp with him for a while? Even if he had to help him with this building of his it would be worth it.
As luck would have it, Eko was already up and about, chopping wood up into shorter beams ready for placement. Charlie took a deep breath and then swallowed down his fears and stepped up to him.
“Hey Eko,” he called out as he sauntered onto the site. “What you making?”
Eko glanced up at him and then continued with his chopping.
“You look terrible Charlie.”
“Yeah well,” Charlie ran an embarrassed hand through his long, tangled hair. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
“Maybe you should go and rest then,” Eko frowned at him, pausing in his chopping.
“Nah. I’m too wired,” Charlie lied. “I was wondering though…can I help you out with this…whatever it is you’re building? I could really do with something to keep my mind off stuff you know?”
“I’m building a church,” Eko said, eyeing Charlie with some trepidation. “Are you certain that you are up to it?”
“Absolutely,” Charlie enthused. “That’s brilliant! I can’t believe you’re building a church! I know I could sure use a confession right about now.”
Eko paused a moment longer and then he nodded but he still looked a little unsure. “All right Charlie. You may help me.”
“Cheers mate,” Charlie grinned and hoped that Eko couldn’t see the pained grimace that he was trying to suppress. “You won’t regret this.”
Within a couple of hours Charlie was beyond exhausted. Working with hard unyielding wood on no sleep and no food with a body that was in constant pain…well it just wasn’t fun. Or productive for that matter. Add into the mix some blistering tropical heat and rapidly increasing dehydration and it was a recipe for disaster.
Eko watched him warily, constantly asking if he was alright and if he was sure that he didn’t want to go and rest. Charlie refused, but with every minute that passed he became more and more clumsy, dropping things on his toes and narrowly missing his own head with the heavy wooden beams that he just didn’t have the strength to hold up.
“Charlie,” Eko said finally, taking a piece of wood out of his hands. “You need to go and rest. You are going to hurt yourself if you keep on going like this.”
“No I’m okay,” Charlie said reaching down for another beam and almost going head first into the sand when his head went into a whirlwind of dizziness. “Whoa...”
Eko grasped him hard by the shoulders and held him up until the dizziness had passed.
“I think you need to go and lie down,” Eko said very clearly. “Come on. I will walk you to your tent.”
Charlie looked up at Eko, dazed and terrified. “I can’t go back there,” he protested weakly. “It’s not safe. Can’t I camp out here with you?”
“I prefer to camp alone,” Eko said simply.
Charlie’s face crumpled. He couldn’t go back to his tent - in the state he was in anybody could come in and do whatever they wanted to him and he would be powerless to stop them. He needed somebody who could protect him and if not Eko then who?
“Please,” he begged, gripping Eko’s tattered shirt with a desperate strength that seemed to honestly surprise the priest. “If you let me camp with you I’ll...I’ll...” desperately his mind turned over and over until he remembered Joe’s whispers of encouragement that first night. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he babbled unthinkingly. “I’ll...I’ll do anything!”
When Eko merely continued to stare at him however, Charlie decided that he’d just take matters into his own hands. He dropped to his knees and then began to undo the fastenings on the other mans trousers...
“What are you doing?” Eko slapped Charlie’s hands away and then shoved the smaller man away from him, disgust etched in every feature of his face. Charlie sprawled backwards in the sand. “What kind of man do you take me for?” Eko bellowed.
“I...I...” Charlie gaped at him but after taking a good long look at the enraged expression on Eko’s face and the axe dangling in his hand he scrambled to his feet and turned tail and fled back to his shelter.
He ran as fast as he could, tripping and falling over his own feet, glancing over his shoulder, terrified that he would be pursued and after crawling back into his tent again, Charlie collapsed with his forehead on his knees and just sat there and wheezed for a while, exhausted from his sprint from the church site.
What the hell had he been thinking - trying to give a blow job to a sodding priest? Eko could have been the answer to everything - he didn’t seem adverse to his previous drug addiction and he was more than intimidating enough to scare off any more potential attackers but now...
Charlie pushed his hands into his hair and pulled hard, moaning in despair. The lack of food and water was beginning to make him delirious - he knew it, but he still couldn’t bring himself to eat. He still felt too sick with fear. As if having the entire camp set against him for stealing Aaron wasn’t bad enough - now Claire thought he was completely deranged and Eko...well who knew what Eko thought about him now?
“Jesus Christ...” he hissed. “Oh God...”
His thoughts strayed back to the man who had invaded his tent the night before and how he had pointed out that nobody would miss him if he was gone - that he would be doing them a favour by killing him. Charlie had heard horror stories about Jin and Sawyer being tortured here for crimes they hadn’t even committed. Was he too about to join the ranks of those who had been wrongly accused?
He wasn’t a drug addict anymore, he had never intended to hurt Aaron or Claire or anyone - but would anyone even bother to find any of that out before they strung him up? His paranoia growing by the minute Charlie found himself thinking back to his school days when he had read ‘The Lord of the Flies’ in English. He had never really liked the book but the one part that stuck out the most in his mind was how at the end the main character had been turned on by the rest of the tribe and nearly been killed.
Even then as a kid he had gotten shivers when he had read it. It had upset him so much that he’d even had nightmares about being chased around the school yard by his fellow school mates, led by an irate Liam with a slingshot. When he relayed his dreams to his mother she had laughed it off, telling him that things like that didn’t happen in the real world, that it was just a book.
Now as Charlie huddled inside his tent and waited for death - it suddenly felt very real.
“Charlie?”
Charlie bit down on his tongue to keep from screaming. He had been so consumed by his growing hysteria that he hadn’t even heard whoever this was come up to his tent.
“Hello?” the voice came again, tentative and Charlie froze in recognition. It was Locke - the absolute last person he wanted to see. Had Eko gone to Locke and told him that Charlie was acting strangely? Was he about to get his comeuppance for his supposed drug relapse?
“Go away!” he squeaked.
“So you are home,” Locke said, pulling back the flap and peering in. Charlie stared back at him from the corner, a caged animal. “Can I talk to you?”
Charlie’s mouth worked as he tried to imagine what Locke might have come here for.
“I don’t want to get hit again,” Charlie trembled with the memory of Locke’s fist against his cheek.
“I’m not gonna hit you,” Locke said, confused. “I just want to talk to you.”
Charlie tried to still his trembling, worried that Locke might think it was withdrawal related. “Why would you want to talk me?”
“Because Claire’s worried about you,” Locke told him. “She asked me to come and apologise to you for this morning and to make sure that you’re alright.”
Charlie’s heart caught in his throat at the mention of Claire but then he shrank back into himself again, fearing a trick.
“Why didn’t she just come and tell me herself?” he asked. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of his face and fell onto his knee with a plop.
“She didn’t think that she’d be very well received,” Locke said dryly. Charlie said nothing and the older man sighed. “Look can you just come outside Charlie? I promise I’m not here to hurt you. I come in peace,” he added with a chuckle and finally, slowly, Charlie crawled out into the sunlight.
The expression on Locke’s face when he saw Charlie’s gaunt, pale face was almost worth all the anxiety. He actually looked relatively upset.
“Geez,” he said as Charlie curled his arms around his knees again. “I gave you a good knock on that cheek didn’t I?”
Charlie shrugged. “I think it was a rock actually.”
“Look about that,” Locke said earnestly. “I didn’t mean to hit you so hard. I just didn’t think. I know you’d never hurt Aaron deliberately but you weren’t yourself. I had to do something.” Charlie said nothing and Locke sighed. “Look Charlie, I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to right now but I think you need some help and...”
“And why do you think I’d want your help?” Charlie snarled.
“Because nobody else is willing to give you the time of day,” Locke said bluntly and Charlie buried his face in his knees again. “Look, Charlie,” Locke said slowly. “I don’t like seeing you like this. You’ve come so far from who you were when you crashed. You were doing so well until...”
“Until I screwed up,” Charlie muttered, feeling ridiculously childlike under Locke’s scrutiny. “And now Claire hates me and she’ll never let me near Aaron again.”
“See that’s where you’re wrong,” Locke said encouragingly. “Claire doesn’t hate you. You just scared her by taking Aaron like that. In time I think she’ll be able to trust you again.”
“Sure,” Charlie snorted derisively, staring down at his knees. “You’re just saying that.”
“No I’m not,” Locke shook his head and then reached out and touched a tentative hand to Charlie’s knee. The younger man looked up slowly at his old mentor, confused more than comforted by the warmth of the gesture. “I know how much you care about them both - you’ve got so much love that you want to share with them. And I can see how much this mistake has cost you,” Locke continued, nodding at him. “I can see that you’re not taking proper care of yourself - you’re beating yourself up over this and you shouldn’t be.”
Charlie looked down at Locke’s hand on his knee and then he scrambled backwards abruptly.
“Don’t touch me like that!” he said wildly, shuddering at the sudden memory of Joe’s hand resting on his knee all those nights ago. Locke’s eyes widened in surprise as Charlie continued to push backwards through the sand, panicking, his mind going wild with fear. “I know what you want from me!” he said accusingly, pointing wildly at Locke. “Are you in on it too? Did you form some sort of...of secret society just so that you could all punish me for what I did? What kind of sicko’s are you anyway? How could you do this to somebody?”
“Charlie,” Locke said, staring at him from the entrance. “What the hell are you talking about? Has something happened to you? Has someone done something to you?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know what they did to me!” Charlie curled his knees into his chest and shut his eyes. “They pinned me down, they overpowered me. I couldn’t...I couldn’t stop them from...”
“Couldn’t stop who from doing what?!”
“He said...he said he’d kill me if I told anyone...God,” he moaned, rocking back and forth. “I don’t want to die...”
“Wait...who?” Locke pressed. “Who threatened you Charlie?”
“I don’t know!” he wailed, slamming an ineffectual fist down on the sand. “I couldn’t see his face! It was dark and I...I couldn’t...”
“Charlie...”
“God...just do it,” Charlie whimpered, close to tears. And finally, the penny seemed to drop. Charlie felt a rough hand on his shoulder and he shuddered but to his surprise, Locke merely dragged him outside and then hauled him to his feet.
“Wait...where are we going?” Charlie mumbled, blinking in the sunlight.
“I’m taking you to see Jack,” Locke said thinly as he pulled Charlies arm over his shoulder. “I think he needs to know what’s going on.”
“Oh God,” Charlie’s eyes popped. “Jack’s in on it too?”
“Jack’s isn’t in on it,” Locke said firmly. “And neither am I. We just want to help you.”
“You want to...help?” Charlie repeated blankly as they bypassed the beach camp and then headed into the jungle. “Help me?”
“That’s right Charlie,” Locke said, hauling him along like a sack of meat. “We’re going to make sure that you don’t get attacked again.”
“Impossible...” Charlie mumbled drowsily, dragging his feet. He was practically unconscious, the edges of his vision darkening. “They’re all against me. Nobody would even care if I was gone...”
His knees crumbled beneath him and he was falling...
“You’re delirious,” Locke muttered and Charlie knew no more.
~*~
When Locke had delivered Charlie to the hatch, unconscious and barely alive, Jack had been beyond shocked. He had been even more surprised however when he examined Charlie to find that not only was he malnourished and dehydrated, he was also badly bruised around his hips and he was bleeding from a place that he certainly shouldn’t have been bleeding from.
It took nearly four hours before Charlie woke up and with no clear idea about how he had gotten to the hatch in the first place. Jack was by his side instantly, helping him to sit up, explaining what had happened.
“How you doing Charlie?” he asked. Charlie winced in pain and rolled onto his side to alleviate it as Jack picked up a glass and pressed it to his lips. “Here. Have some water.”
Charlie sipped obediently, automatically wrapping a hand around the bottom of the glass. Jack let go, thinking that he was okay to drink himself but next moment Charlie’s hand slipped and the glass fell to the floor and smashed.
“Oh my god!” Charlie immediately sat up, forgetting himself. “I’m sorry...I didn’t meant to...I’ll-I’ll clean it up just...”
“Charlie I got it,” Jack said firmly, putting a hand on Charlie’s shoulder to hold him back. Charlie shied away from touch and even though he noticed, the doctor said nothing. “It’s just a glass.”
“Sorry,” Charlie fell back against the pillows, exhausted as Jack collected up the glass and then wiped up the spilt water with a paper towel. “How did I...?”
“Locke brought you in,” Jack supplied as he disappeared back into the kitchen, returning with a couple of aspirin and another glass of water. Charlie ignored the water but he all but lunged at the aspirin and swallowed them both dry. “You were unconscious, malnourished, dehydrated and he said that when he came to speak to you that you were rambling about being attacked.”
“I was,” Charlie mumbled. “Twice in the last week.”
“And did they hurt you?”
“They didn’t hit me,” Charlie said evasively. “If that’s what you mean.”
“What did they do to you?”
Charlie sighed and dropped his eyes.
“Charlie,” Jack said quietly. “While you were unconscious I gave you a quick once over to make sure you weren’t hurt in any way...” Charlie looked up again, fearful. “...And from what I could gather from the bruising and the bleeding it seems to me like somebody’s been penetrating you recently.”
Charlie shuddered and shut his eyes at the word ‘penetrate’.
“Am I right?” Jack asked. “Has somebody been...?”
“They...” Charlie licked his lips before finishing his sentence in a rush. “They raped me.”
“Who?” Jack asked quietly. “Who did this to you.”
“Joe,” Charlie supplied weakly. “And this other guy. I don’t know who he was - I didn’t see his face but he told me that if I told anyone that he’d been there then he’d...”
“Joe Tyler?” Jack interrupted and when Charlie nodded he looked honestly shocked. “He’s not even a homosexual! He’s always talking about his wife and kids...”
“Just cause someone’s straight doesn’t mean they won’t try something else if they’re desperate enough Jack,” Charlie said weakly. “He was just lonely and he thought that I might be able to help him out.”
“And the other guy?”
“He was just sick,” Charlie shuddered as he remembered. “He came alone and at first I thought it was Joe but then...he hurt me. He wanted to hurt me.” Jack just shook his head, flabbergasted. “He threatened me,” Charlie added in a murmur. “He said that if I told anyone what he’d done to me that he’d kill me.”
“Why didn’t you tell someone about this?” Jack asked him, his brow pinched. “We could have stopped this from happening.” When Charlie didn’t say anything and just lay there Jack forced him to meet his gaze. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was scared,” Charlie admitted, choking as he felt the bitter sting of tears as they fell down his cheeks. “I thought that everybody hated me - that they wouldn’t care if I was gone or not.”
“Of course I’d care!” Jack said incredulously. “What the hell’s gotten into you Charlie? We could have moved you back into the main camp again - God, we could have moved you in up here if you were in danger!”
“You said that nobody wanted me hanging around camp,” Charlie reminded him. “You told me that I should stay away from the hatch.”
“Yeah, unless you were in some sort of trouble - circumstances change Charlie.” Jack said, shaking his head. “This is all my fault.”
“It’s your fault I scared Claire off and she kicked me out huh?” Charlie laughed weakly. “That’s a pretty impressive call there Jack.”
“I should have done something,” Jack said, aggrieved but then his eyes flashed and he was in action-mode. “I need to find Joe.”
“No,” Charlie blurted but then he withdrew again a little when Jack eyed him curiously. “He didn’t actually hurt me,” Charlie explained. “He just scared me a bit. And he had good intentions when he came to me - he just made a mistake is all.”
Jack considered Charlie for a moment and then he nodded. “Okay,” he agreed. “I won’t talk to Joe.”
Having convinced Jack not to track Joe down and castrate him, Charlie went and cleaned himself up properly and then Jack supervised him as he ate his first meal in days...before promptly throwing it all back up again. When he finally managed to hold down a small portion of fruit, Jack promised Charlie that he could stay in the hatch tonight and that tomorrow they would go back to the beach and move Charlie’s belongings into Jack’s tent until he got his own shelter up and running again.
“I want you where I can keep a closer eye on you,” Jack told him. “And if anybody else tries to hurt you then I’ll be there to tell them where to stick it.”
Charlie had actually laughed then, delighted by the uncharacteristic use of threatening slang from the good doctor.
Bright and early the next day after a light breakfast had restored some of his strength and a painkiller had taken away the edge of the pain, Charlie actually felt halfway decent as he walked back into the camp with Jack. His first item of business was to find Eko and apologise for his actions of the previous day. Somehow Jack ended up doing most of the talking whilst Charlie just stood there but Eko seemed genuinely upset when he learned what had happened.
“I am sorry Charlie,” he said, placing a consoling hand on the younger mans shoulder. “I did not know. If you had told me that you were in trouble then I would have let you camp with me.”
“S’okay,” Charlie mumbled, nudging at the sand with his toe. “I should’ve told a lot of people. It’s my own stupid fault.”
“I will pray that the men who attacked you get their just reward,” Eko said, cracking his knuckles in a way that made Charlie sure that if Joe or the other bloke ever tried anything again they’d be getting their heads knocked together by a very irate Nigerian priest.
“Thank Eko,” he said weakly.
It took Jack and Charlie two trips to gather the collection of flimsy tarps and poles that made up Charlie’s shelter as well as his meagre belongings and transfer them to Jack’s tent.
“You feeling okay?” Jack asked him once he had settled in with his things.
Charlie nodded as the doctor sat next to him in the now cramped shelter.
“Yeah,” he said, surreptitiously shuffling several inches away from Jack. He trusted the man infinitely but he still didn’t feel comfortable with being in close physical proximity to people. “I definitely feel a hell of a lot safer. It kind of feels like sleeping in your parents bed after you’ve had a nightmare you know?”
“As long as you don’t try to cuddle up to me in the middle of the night,” Jack joked and Charlie grinned stiffly.
“I’ll try not to.”
“Well if you’re all set,” Jack pushed himself up and reached for his stash of drink bottles. “I might go and fill these up. Want me to do yours too?”
“Sure,” Charlie said, reaching for his bottles and then heading outside the tent with Jack. “I might go for a walk actually - stretch my legs.”
“Just in case somebody comes past while I’m gone?” Jack said shrewdly and Charlie sighed, caught out. “It’s okay if you’re still nervous Charlie,” Jack told him. “What happened to you...most people can’t even begin to imagine how terrible it is.”
“Yeah?” Charlie raised an eyebrow. “It ever happen to you?”
“No,” Jack admitted. “But an old friend of mine got attacked a bunch of times as a kid - by his dad actually.”
Charlie paused to let that sink in and then he shuddered.
“I guess it could have been for me worse right?”
“I think it was probably bad enough,” Jack said, squeezing Charlie’s shoulder reassuringly before turning to leave.
Charlie merely smiled his thanks and then headed off down to the water, taking a seat on the sand and wrapping his hands around his knees as he watched the waves roll in and out. He always did this when he needed to chill out and just think things through. He closed his eyes and began to meditate a little, concentrating on his breath when suddenly...
“Charlie?”
His eyes snapped open and he looked up but he didn’t need to see their face to know who it was.
“Claire?” he returned blankly.
And there she was, standing right in front of him, just staring at him.
“Hi,” she said awkwardly and then, “You look...pretty terrible.”
“Well thanks,” Charlie snorted and she flushed. “Did you want something?”
“Can...” Claire gestured at the sand next to him. “Can I sit?”
“I guess,” Charlie shuffled over slightly. “It’s a free beach after all.”
“Thanks,” Claire lowered herself onto the sand and they sat there for a good few minutes, Charlie watching the waves and Claire twisting her fingers agitatedly. Finally he sighed and turned to her.
“Look,” he said, nettled. “Why exactly are you here? And don’t tell me that it’s because you’re admiring the bloody view.”
“Well...John...told me what happened,” Claire said falteringly, her fingers still twisting together in her lap. “About what those men did to you...”
Charlie was silent for a moment as he stared at her and then he turned back to the ocean, fuming.
“Well. That was thoughtful of him,” he said sharply. “It’s nice to know that Locke feels that it’s his divine right to divulge my personal business to the entire bloody camp.”
“For your information Charlie he didn’t tell the whole bloody camp,” Claire said angrily. “I asked him to tell me what you told him because I was worried about you!”
“So worried that you sent someone else to do your dirty work?”
Claire went to bite back but then caught herself, instead taking a deep breath.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally.
Charlie stared. “What the bloody hell do you have to be sorry for?”
“For what happened to you,” Claire said, all sympathy. “I can’t even imagine how…”
“You know what?” Charlie interrupted her flatly. “You’re absolutely right Claire. You can’t imagine what it was like and I don’t really want to talk about it alright?”
“Well you can’t just not talk about it…”
“I don’t want to talk about it with you,” Charlie interrupted softly.
Claire’s jaw actually dropped but she recovered herself quickly.
“Well who will you talk about it to?”
“I don’t know,” Charlie ran a hand through his lank hair, frustrated. “Why are you pushing this?”
“If I hadn’t kicked you out...”
“Wait...you’re blaming yourself for this?” Charlie interrupted. “Are you serious?”
“Well who I supposed to blame?” Claire asked, pushing her hair out of her face, her face pinched with guilt.
“Claire...” Charlie sighed and buried his face in his hands momentarily - despite the painkillers he could sense a migraine coming on. And then he felt a soft hand on his shoulder and despite himself he cringed away from her touch.
“Charlie?” she said uncertainly.
“Please,” he murmured, trembling underneath her hand. “Don’t Claire. I just...please don’t touch me.”
“Is it because it’s me?” Claire asked, sounding hurt as she removed her hand and Charlie looked up, still shaking but feeling slightly guilty all the same for making her think that he was angry at her when he wasn’t. It was his own stupid mistakes that had led to all of this, not hers.
“It’s got nothing to do with you - or us.” Charlie assured her, his voice heavy. “It’s just me.”
“So you won’t talk to me,” Claire pursed her lips. “And you won’t let me touch you. Is there anything I can do to try and make you feel better that won’t involve you biting my head off or running scared?”
Charlie considered her for a moment, trying to gauge the emotions flickering behind her eyes. He was searching for pity, for empty sympathy but he found none. Instead he could only see concern, trepidation, an earnest desire to reach out and help him, not out of any obligation but because she truly was worried about him.
She’d never looked at him like that before - not in all the time that Charlie had known her.
“You could stay?” he offered with a crooked smile. “And maybe just sit for a while. With me.”
Claire paused but then she nodded.
“I guess I can do that,” she said.
Charlie nodded back and then turned his eyes to the waves. Claire followed suit and together they watched the waves until they turned orange in the afternoon light. Claire went to take care of Aaron and Charlie went back to Jack’s tent.
He slept that night as he hadn’t slept in days - peacefully and heavily - and in the morning Charlie found a beautiful shell sitting outside the tent. Still in the shadow of the front awning, Charlie let his gaze wander over the camp until he found Claire hanging out her washing. He caught her eye and then held up the shell to her, a silent question. She gazed back steadily at him, pausing to smile briefly and blush a little before she returned to her chores.
Charlie chuckled as he ran a thumb along the edge of the shell, marvelling at the pearlescent sheen inside before he pocketed it. It was another old joke between them - one that he thought she had long since forgotten.
“What do you reckon?” Charlie peered thoughtfully at the two shells, one resting on each of Claire’s palms. He pointed at the brown one. “That one’s definitely me. It’s certainly ugly enough.”
“The outside of it’s not that pretty,” Claire agreed but then she turned it over in her palm so that he could see the pearlescent shimmer inside. “But take a look at the inside.”
Charlie took a deep breath, gazed around the camp, and then with one hand still fingering the shell in his pocket he stepped out into the world.
Title: No Sanctuary 2/2
Characters: Charlie, redshirts, Eko, Locke, Jack, Claire
Prompt: 17. fear
Word Count: 5002
Rating/warnings: strong R. Non-con, slash, violence, coarse language. And horror of horrors - FLANGST.
Summary: AU post-F+W. When Charlie is attacked by another castaway in his own tent he begins to fear for his life. But who would be willing to keep him safe when the entire camp seems set against him?
Disclaimer: don’t own Lost or William Goldings “The Lord of the Flies” which I have referenced within.
Dedicated: to falafel_fiction who came up with the original idea for this. I hope it's everything you ever dreamed of!
NB: References of my own personal Confidence Man era canon within ala this fic.
Read part one here.
~*~
He needed protection - that much Charlie was certain of. He couldn’t keep staying up the other end of the beach where he was so isolated. If somebody could break into his tent and…and do what that bloke had done to him last night then they could just as easily come in and attack him with something more sinister.
He didn’t have a gun or knives - and he certainly wouldn’t be able to steal a weapon off somebody else. Nobody trusted him with empty water bottles at the moment, let alone a hunting knife. He wandered the beach in circles and loops, losing all hope until he caught sight of a half finished wooden frame - the beginnings of Eko’s building, whatever it was.
Despite his displeasure at Eko’s recent behaviour - getting him in the wrong with Claire, telling him that Aaron needed to be baptised and then saying that he’d never said anything about it…well the guy was pretty much built like a tank. Charlie was small, vulnerable, weak from not eating. Surely the priest would take pity on him and let him camp with him for a while? Even if he had to help him with this building of his it would be worth it.
As luck would have it, Eko was already up and about, chopping wood up into shorter beams ready for placement. Charlie took a deep breath and then swallowed down his fears and stepped up to him.
“Hey Eko,” he called out as he sauntered onto the site. “What you making?”
Eko glanced up at him and then continued with his chopping.
“You look terrible Charlie.”
“Yeah well,” Charlie ran an embarrassed hand through his long, tangled hair. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
“Maybe you should go and rest then,” Eko frowned at him, pausing in his chopping.
“Nah. I’m too wired,” Charlie lied. “I was wondering though…can I help you out with this…whatever it is you’re building? I could really do with something to keep my mind off stuff you know?”
“I’m building a church,” Eko said, eyeing Charlie with some trepidation. “Are you certain that you are up to it?”
“Absolutely,” Charlie enthused. “That’s brilliant! I can’t believe you’re building a church! I know I could sure use a confession right about now.”
Eko paused a moment longer and then he nodded but he still looked a little unsure. “All right Charlie. You may help me.”
“Cheers mate,” Charlie grinned and hoped that Eko couldn’t see the pained grimace that he was trying to suppress. “You won’t regret this.”
Within a couple of hours Charlie was beyond exhausted. Working with hard unyielding wood on no sleep and no food with a body that was in constant pain…well it just wasn’t fun. Or productive for that matter. Add into the mix some blistering tropical heat and rapidly increasing dehydration and it was a recipe for disaster.
Eko watched him warily, constantly asking if he was alright and if he was sure that he didn’t want to go and rest. Charlie refused, but with every minute that passed he became more and more clumsy, dropping things on his toes and narrowly missing his own head with the heavy wooden beams that he just didn’t have the strength to hold up.
“Charlie,” Eko said finally, taking a piece of wood out of his hands. “You need to go and rest. You are going to hurt yourself if you keep on going like this.”
“No I’m okay,” Charlie said reaching down for another beam and almost going head first into the sand when his head went into a whirlwind of dizziness. “Whoa...”
Eko grasped him hard by the shoulders and held him up until the dizziness had passed.
“I think you need to go and lie down,” Eko said very clearly. “Come on. I will walk you to your tent.”
Charlie looked up at Eko, dazed and terrified. “I can’t go back there,” he protested weakly. “It’s not safe. Can’t I camp out here with you?”
“I prefer to camp alone,” Eko said simply.
Charlie’s face crumpled. He couldn’t go back to his tent - in the state he was in anybody could come in and do whatever they wanted to him and he would be powerless to stop them. He needed somebody who could protect him and if not Eko then who?
“Please,” he begged, gripping Eko’s tattered shirt with a desperate strength that seemed to honestly surprise the priest. “If you let me camp with you I’ll...I’ll...” desperately his mind turned over and over until he remembered Joe’s whispers of encouragement that first night. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he babbled unthinkingly. “I’ll...I’ll do anything!”
When Eko merely continued to stare at him however, Charlie decided that he’d just take matters into his own hands. He dropped to his knees and then began to undo the fastenings on the other mans trousers...
“What are you doing?” Eko slapped Charlie’s hands away and then shoved the smaller man away from him, disgust etched in every feature of his face. Charlie sprawled backwards in the sand. “What kind of man do you take me for?” Eko bellowed.
“I...I...” Charlie gaped at him but after taking a good long look at the enraged expression on Eko’s face and the axe dangling in his hand he scrambled to his feet and turned tail and fled back to his shelter.
He ran as fast as he could, tripping and falling over his own feet, glancing over his shoulder, terrified that he would be pursued and after crawling back into his tent again, Charlie collapsed with his forehead on his knees and just sat there and wheezed for a while, exhausted from his sprint from the church site.
What the hell had he been thinking - trying to give a blow job to a sodding priest? Eko could have been the answer to everything - he didn’t seem adverse to his previous drug addiction and he was more than intimidating enough to scare off any more potential attackers but now...
Charlie pushed his hands into his hair and pulled hard, moaning in despair. The lack of food and water was beginning to make him delirious - he knew it, but he still couldn’t bring himself to eat. He still felt too sick with fear. As if having the entire camp set against him for stealing Aaron wasn’t bad enough - now Claire thought he was completely deranged and Eko...well who knew what Eko thought about him now?
“Jesus Christ...” he hissed. “Oh God...”
His thoughts strayed back to the man who had invaded his tent the night before and how he had pointed out that nobody would miss him if he was gone - that he would be doing them a favour by killing him. Charlie had heard horror stories about Jin and Sawyer being tortured here for crimes they hadn’t even committed. Was he too about to join the ranks of those who had been wrongly accused?
He wasn’t a drug addict anymore, he had never intended to hurt Aaron or Claire or anyone - but would anyone even bother to find any of that out before they strung him up? His paranoia growing by the minute Charlie found himself thinking back to his school days when he had read ‘The Lord of the Flies’ in English. He had never really liked the book but the one part that stuck out the most in his mind was how at the end the main character had been turned on by the rest of the tribe and nearly been killed.
Even then as a kid he had gotten shivers when he had read it. It had upset him so much that he’d even had nightmares about being chased around the school yard by his fellow school mates, led by an irate Liam with a slingshot. When he relayed his dreams to his mother she had laughed it off, telling him that things like that didn’t happen in the real world, that it was just a book.
Now as Charlie huddled inside his tent and waited for death - it suddenly felt very real.
“Charlie?”
Charlie bit down on his tongue to keep from screaming. He had been so consumed by his growing hysteria that he hadn’t even heard whoever this was come up to his tent.
“Hello?” the voice came again, tentative and Charlie froze in recognition. It was Locke - the absolute last person he wanted to see. Had Eko gone to Locke and told him that Charlie was acting strangely? Was he about to get his comeuppance for his supposed drug relapse?
“Go away!” he squeaked.
“So you are home,” Locke said, pulling back the flap and peering in. Charlie stared back at him from the corner, a caged animal. “Can I talk to you?”
Charlie’s mouth worked as he tried to imagine what Locke might have come here for.
“I don’t want to get hit again,” Charlie trembled with the memory of Locke’s fist against his cheek.
“I’m not gonna hit you,” Locke said, confused. “I just want to talk to you.”
Charlie tried to still his trembling, worried that Locke might think it was withdrawal related. “Why would you want to talk me?”
“Because Claire’s worried about you,” Locke told him. “She asked me to come and apologise to you for this morning and to make sure that you’re alright.”
Charlie’s heart caught in his throat at the mention of Claire but then he shrank back into himself again, fearing a trick.
“Why didn’t she just come and tell me herself?” he asked. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of his face and fell onto his knee with a plop.
“She didn’t think that she’d be very well received,” Locke said dryly. Charlie said nothing and the older man sighed. “Look can you just come outside Charlie? I promise I’m not here to hurt you. I come in peace,” he added with a chuckle and finally, slowly, Charlie crawled out into the sunlight.
The expression on Locke’s face when he saw Charlie’s gaunt, pale face was almost worth all the anxiety. He actually looked relatively upset.
“Geez,” he said as Charlie curled his arms around his knees again. “I gave you a good knock on that cheek didn’t I?”
Charlie shrugged. “I think it was a rock actually.”
“Look about that,” Locke said earnestly. “I didn’t mean to hit you so hard. I just didn’t think. I know you’d never hurt Aaron deliberately but you weren’t yourself. I had to do something.” Charlie said nothing and Locke sighed. “Look Charlie, I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to right now but I think you need some help and...”
“And why do you think I’d want your help?” Charlie snarled.
“Because nobody else is willing to give you the time of day,” Locke said bluntly and Charlie buried his face in his knees again. “Look, Charlie,” Locke said slowly. “I don’t like seeing you like this. You’ve come so far from who you were when you crashed. You were doing so well until...”
“Until I screwed up,” Charlie muttered, feeling ridiculously childlike under Locke’s scrutiny. “And now Claire hates me and she’ll never let me near Aaron again.”
“See that’s where you’re wrong,” Locke said encouragingly. “Claire doesn’t hate you. You just scared her by taking Aaron like that. In time I think she’ll be able to trust you again.”
“Sure,” Charlie snorted derisively, staring down at his knees. “You’re just saying that.”
“No I’m not,” Locke shook his head and then reached out and touched a tentative hand to Charlie’s knee. The younger man looked up slowly at his old mentor, confused more than comforted by the warmth of the gesture. “I know how much you care about them both - you’ve got so much love that you want to share with them. And I can see how much this mistake has cost you,” Locke continued, nodding at him. “I can see that you’re not taking proper care of yourself - you’re beating yourself up over this and you shouldn’t be.”
Charlie looked down at Locke’s hand on his knee and then he scrambled backwards abruptly.
“Don’t touch me like that!” he said wildly, shuddering at the sudden memory of Joe’s hand resting on his knee all those nights ago. Locke’s eyes widened in surprise as Charlie continued to push backwards through the sand, panicking, his mind going wild with fear. “I know what you want from me!” he said accusingly, pointing wildly at Locke. “Are you in on it too? Did you form some sort of...of secret society just so that you could all punish me for what I did? What kind of sicko’s are you anyway? How could you do this to somebody?”
“Charlie,” Locke said, staring at him from the entrance. “What the hell are you talking about? Has something happened to you? Has someone done something to you?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know what they did to me!” Charlie curled his knees into his chest and shut his eyes. “They pinned me down, they overpowered me. I couldn’t...I couldn’t stop them from...”
“Couldn’t stop who from doing what?!”
“He said...he said he’d kill me if I told anyone...God,” he moaned, rocking back and forth. “I don’t want to die...”
“Wait...who?” Locke pressed. “Who threatened you Charlie?”
“I don’t know!” he wailed, slamming an ineffectual fist down on the sand. “I couldn’t see his face! It was dark and I...I couldn’t...”
“Charlie...”
“God...just do it,” Charlie whimpered, close to tears. And finally, the penny seemed to drop. Charlie felt a rough hand on his shoulder and he shuddered but to his surprise, Locke merely dragged him outside and then hauled him to his feet.
“Wait...where are we going?” Charlie mumbled, blinking in the sunlight.
“I’m taking you to see Jack,” Locke said thinly as he pulled Charlies arm over his shoulder. “I think he needs to know what’s going on.”
“Oh God,” Charlie’s eyes popped. “Jack’s in on it too?”
“Jack’s isn’t in on it,” Locke said firmly. “And neither am I. We just want to help you.”
“You want to...help?” Charlie repeated blankly as they bypassed the beach camp and then headed into the jungle. “Help me?”
“That’s right Charlie,” Locke said, hauling him along like a sack of meat. “We’re going to make sure that you don’t get attacked again.”
“Impossible...” Charlie mumbled drowsily, dragging his feet. He was practically unconscious, the edges of his vision darkening. “They’re all against me. Nobody would even care if I was gone...”
His knees crumbled beneath him and he was falling...
“You’re delirious,” Locke muttered and Charlie knew no more.
~*~
When Locke had delivered Charlie to the hatch, unconscious and barely alive, Jack had been beyond shocked. He had been even more surprised however when he examined Charlie to find that not only was he malnourished and dehydrated, he was also badly bruised around his hips and he was bleeding from a place that he certainly shouldn’t have been bleeding from.
It took nearly four hours before Charlie woke up and with no clear idea about how he had gotten to the hatch in the first place. Jack was by his side instantly, helping him to sit up, explaining what had happened.
“How you doing Charlie?” he asked. Charlie winced in pain and rolled onto his side to alleviate it as Jack picked up a glass and pressed it to his lips. “Here. Have some water.”
Charlie sipped obediently, automatically wrapping a hand around the bottom of the glass. Jack let go, thinking that he was okay to drink himself but next moment Charlie’s hand slipped and the glass fell to the floor and smashed.
“Oh my god!” Charlie immediately sat up, forgetting himself. “I’m sorry...I didn’t meant to...I’ll-I’ll clean it up just...”
“Charlie I got it,” Jack said firmly, putting a hand on Charlie’s shoulder to hold him back. Charlie shied away from touch and even though he noticed, the doctor said nothing. “It’s just a glass.”
“Sorry,” Charlie fell back against the pillows, exhausted as Jack collected up the glass and then wiped up the spilt water with a paper towel. “How did I...?”
“Locke brought you in,” Jack supplied as he disappeared back into the kitchen, returning with a couple of aspirin and another glass of water. Charlie ignored the water but he all but lunged at the aspirin and swallowed them both dry. “You were unconscious, malnourished, dehydrated and he said that when he came to speak to you that you were rambling about being attacked.”
“I was,” Charlie mumbled. “Twice in the last week.”
“And did they hurt you?”
“They didn’t hit me,” Charlie said evasively. “If that’s what you mean.”
“What did they do to you?”
Charlie sighed and dropped his eyes.
“Charlie,” Jack said quietly. “While you were unconscious I gave you a quick once over to make sure you weren’t hurt in any way...” Charlie looked up again, fearful. “...And from what I could gather from the bruising and the bleeding it seems to me like somebody’s been penetrating you recently.”
Charlie shuddered and shut his eyes at the word ‘penetrate’.
“Am I right?” Jack asked. “Has somebody been...?”
“They...” Charlie licked his lips before finishing his sentence in a rush. “They raped me.”
“Who?” Jack asked quietly. “Who did this to you.”
“Joe,” Charlie supplied weakly. “And this other guy. I don’t know who he was - I didn’t see his face but he told me that if I told anyone that he’d been there then he’d...”
“Joe Tyler?” Jack interrupted and when Charlie nodded he looked honestly shocked. “He’s not even a homosexual! He’s always talking about his wife and kids...”
“Just cause someone’s straight doesn’t mean they won’t try something else if they’re desperate enough Jack,” Charlie said weakly. “He was just lonely and he thought that I might be able to help him out.”
“And the other guy?”
“He was just sick,” Charlie shuddered as he remembered. “He came alone and at first I thought it was Joe but then...he hurt me. He wanted to hurt me.” Jack just shook his head, flabbergasted. “He threatened me,” Charlie added in a murmur. “He said that if I told anyone what he’d done to me that he’d kill me.”
“Why didn’t you tell someone about this?” Jack asked him, his brow pinched. “We could have stopped this from happening.” When Charlie didn’t say anything and just lay there Jack forced him to meet his gaze. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was scared,” Charlie admitted, choking as he felt the bitter sting of tears as they fell down his cheeks. “I thought that everybody hated me - that they wouldn’t care if I was gone or not.”
“Of course I’d care!” Jack said incredulously. “What the hell’s gotten into you Charlie? We could have moved you back into the main camp again - God, we could have moved you in up here if you were in danger!”
“You said that nobody wanted me hanging around camp,” Charlie reminded him. “You told me that I should stay away from the hatch.”
“Yeah, unless you were in some sort of trouble - circumstances change Charlie.” Jack said, shaking his head. “This is all my fault.”
“It’s your fault I scared Claire off and she kicked me out huh?” Charlie laughed weakly. “That’s a pretty impressive call there Jack.”
“I should have done something,” Jack said, aggrieved but then his eyes flashed and he was in action-mode. “I need to find Joe.”
“No,” Charlie blurted but then he withdrew again a little when Jack eyed him curiously. “He didn’t actually hurt me,” Charlie explained. “He just scared me a bit. And he had good intentions when he came to me - he just made a mistake is all.”
Jack considered Charlie for a moment and then he nodded. “Okay,” he agreed. “I won’t talk to Joe.”
Having convinced Jack not to track Joe down and castrate him, Charlie went and cleaned himself up properly and then Jack supervised him as he ate his first meal in days...before promptly throwing it all back up again. When he finally managed to hold down a small portion of fruit, Jack promised Charlie that he could stay in the hatch tonight and that tomorrow they would go back to the beach and move Charlie’s belongings into Jack’s tent until he got his own shelter up and running again.
“I want you where I can keep a closer eye on you,” Jack told him. “And if anybody else tries to hurt you then I’ll be there to tell them where to stick it.”
Charlie had actually laughed then, delighted by the uncharacteristic use of threatening slang from the good doctor.
Bright and early the next day after a light breakfast had restored some of his strength and a painkiller had taken away the edge of the pain, Charlie actually felt halfway decent as he walked back into the camp with Jack. His first item of business was to find Eko and apologise for his actions of the previous day. Somehow Jack ended up doing most of the talking whilst Charlie just stood there but Eko seemed genuinely upset when he learned what had happened.
“I am sorry Charlie,” he said, placing a consoling hand on the younger mans shoulder. “I did not know. If you had told me that you were in trouble then I would have let you camp with me.”
“S’okay,” Charlie mumbled, nudging at the sand with his toe. “I should’ve told a lot of people. It’s my own stupid fault.”
“I will pray that the men who attacked you get their just reward,” Eko said, cracking his knuckles in a way that made Charlie sure that if Joe or the other bloke ever tried anything again they’d be getting their heads knocked together by a very irate Nigerian priest.
“Thank Eko,” he said weakly.
It took Jack and Charlie two trips to gather the collection of flimsy tarps and poles that made up Charlie’s shelter as well as his meagre belongings and transfer them to Jack’s tent.
“You feeling okay?” Jack asked him once he had settled in with his things.
Charlie nodded as the doctor sat next to him in the now cramped shelter.
“Yeah,” he said, surreptitiously shuffling several inches away from Jack. He trusted the man infinitely but he still didn’t feel comfortable with being in close physical proximity to people. “I definitely feel a hell of a lot safer. It kind of feels like sleeping in your parents bed after you’ve had a nightmare you know?”
“As long as you don’t try to cuddle up to me in the middle of the night,” Jack joked and Charlie grinned stiffly.
“I’ll try not to.”
“Well if you’re all set,” Jack pushed himself up and reached for his stash of drink bottles. “I might go and fill these up. Want me to do yours too?”
“Sure,” Charlie said, reaching for his bottles and then heading outside the tent with Jack. “I might go for a walk actually - stretch my legs.”
“Just in case somebody comes past while I’m gone?” Jack said shrewdly and Charlie sighed, caught out. “It’s okay if you’re still nervous Charlie,” Jack told him. “What happened to you...most people can’t even begin to imagine how terrible it is.”
“Yeah?” Charlie raised an eyebrow. “It ever happen to you?”
“No,” Jack admitted. “But an old friend of mine got attacked a bunch of times as a kid - by his dad actually.”
Charlie paused to let that sink in and then he shuddered.
“I guess it could have been for me worse right?”
“I think it was probably bad enough,” Jack said, squeezing Charlie’s shoulder reassuringly before turning to leave.
Charlie merely smiled his thanks and then headed off down to the water, taking a seat on the sand and wrapping his hands around his knees as he watched the waves roll in and out. He always did this when he needed to chill out and just think things through. He closed his eyes and began to meditate a little, concentrating on his breath when suddenly...
“Charlie?”
His eyes snapped open and he looked up but he didn’t need to see their face to know who it was.
“Claire?” he returned blankly.
And there she was, standing right in front of him, just staring at him.
“Hi,” she said awkwardly and then, “You look...pretty terrible.”
“Well thanks,” Charlie snorted and she flushed. “Did you want something?”
“Can...” Claire gestured at the sand next to him. “Can I sit?”
“I guess,” Charlie shuffled over slightly. “It’s a free beach after all.”
“Thanks,” Claire lowered herself onto the sand and they sat there for a good few minutes, Charlie watching the waves and Claire twisting her fingers agitatedly. Finally he sighed and turned to her.
“Look,” he said, nettled. “Why exactly are you here? And don’t tell me that it’s because you’re admiring the bloody view.”
“Well...John...told me what happened,” Claire said falteringly, her fingers still twisting together in her lap. “About what those men did to you...”
Charlie was silent for a moment as he stared at her and then he turned back to the ocean, fuming.
“Well. That was thoughtful of him,” he said sharply. “It’s nice to know that Locke feels that it’s his divine right to divulge my personal business to the entire bloody camp.”
“For your information Charlie he didn’t tell the whole bloody camp,” Claire said angrily. “I asked him to tell me what you told him because I was worried about you!”
“So worried that you sent someone else to do your dirty work?”
Claire went to bite back but then caught herself, instead taking a deep breath.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally.
Charlie stared. “What the bloody hell do you have to be sorry for?”
“For what happened to you,” Claire said, all sympathy. “I can’t even imagine how…”
“You know what?” Charlie interrupted her flatly. “You’re absolutely right Claire. You can’t imagine what it was like and I don’t really want to talk about it alright?”
“Well you can’t just not talk about it…”
“I don’t want to talk about it with you,” Charlie interrupted softly.
Claire’s jaw actually dropped but she recovered herself quickly.
“Well who will you talk about it to?”
“I don’t know,” Charlie ran a hand through his lank hair, frustrated. “Why are you pushing this?”
“If I hadn’t kicked you out...”
“Wait...you’re blaming yourself for this?” Charlie interrupted. “Are you serious?”
“Well who I supposed to blame?” Claire asked, pushing her hair out of her face, her face pinched with guilt.
“Claire...” Charlie sighed and buried his face in his hands momentarily - despite the painkillers he could sense a migraine coming on. And then he felt a soft hand on his shoulder and despite himself he cringed away from her touch.
“Charlie?” she said uncertainly.
“Please,” he murmured, trembling underneath her hand. “Don’t Claire. I just...please don’t touch me.”
“Is it because it’s me?” Claire asked, sounding hurt as she removed her hand and Charlie looked up, still shaking but feeling slightly guilty all the same for making her think that he was angry at her when he wasn’t. It was his own stupid mistakes that had led to all of this, not hers.
“It’s got nothing to do with you - or us.” Charlie assured her, his voice heavy. “It’s just me.”
“So you won’t talk to me,” Claire pursed her lips. “And you won’t let me touch you. Is there anything I can do to try and make you feel better that won’t involve you biting my head off or running scared?”
Charlie considered her for a moment, trying to gauge the emotions flickering behind her eyes. He was searching for pity, for empty sympathy but he found none. Instead he could only see concern, trepidation, an earnest desire to reach out and help him, not out of any obligation but because she truly was worried about him.
She’d never looked at him like that before - not in all the time that Charlie had known her.
“You could stay?” he offered with a crooked smile. “And maybe just sit for a while. With me.”
Claire paused but then she nodded.
“I guess I can do that,” she said.
Charlie nodded back and then turned his eyes to the waves. Claire followed suit and together they watched the waves until they turned orange in the afternoon light. Claire went to take care of Aaron and Charlie went back to Jack’s tent.
He slept that night as he hadn’t slept in days - peacefully and heavily - and in the morning Charlie found a beautiful shell sitting outside the tent. Still in the shadow of the front awning, Charlie let his gaze wander over the camp until he found Claire hanging out her washing. He caught her eye and then held up the shell to her, a silent question. She gazed back steadily at him, pausing to smile briefly and blush a little before she returned to her chores.
Charlie chuckled as he ran a thumb along the edge of the shell, marvelling at the pearlescent sheen inside before he pocketed it. It was another old joke between them - one that he thought she had long since forgotten.
“What do you reckon?” Charlie peered thoughtfully at the two shells, one resting on each of Claire’s palms. He pointed at the brown one. “That one’s definitely me. It’s certainly ugly enough.”
“The outside of it’s not that pretty,” Claire agreed but then she turned it over in her palm so that he could see the pearlescent shimmer inside. “But take a look at the inside.”
Charlie took a deep breath, gazed around the camp, and then with one hand still fingering the shell in his pocket he stepped out into the world.