Claire fic - Elements
Title: Elements
Genre: action/adventure, angst, dark, supernatural
Rating/warnings: PG-13, supernatural themes
Spoilers: up to and including the end of season three with predictions for season four
Summary: When the rescue from the radio tower suddenly becomes a scene of carnage instead, Claire flees with Aaron and begins to head back to the beach camp. With no clear idea of where she’s going and no protection except for her own wits, Claire has to draw on all her strength in order to make it back alive.
Disclaimer: don’t the franchise or any rights to it, just borrowing for my own sadistic purposes. Lyrics in the cut are from "Listen To The Rain" by Evanescence
~*~
Part One: Water and Fire
Her feet had gone numb from the cold and from pounding the uneven terrain as she ran full pelt through the jungle. Her baby was tucked up to her chest, protected from the worst of the rain by a blanket that was growing increasingly wetter as the minutes passed.
Despite the fact that she knew that she wasn’t being followed, Claire was still running as fast as she could. Which admittedly wasn’t really that fast but for now, it was all she had. Having such short legs had never endeared her much to cross country - especially not with an infant child weighing her down. She had always done better with sprints and short distances.
And so now she was exhausted. The minimal air she was pulling in was barely having time to get into her mouth, let alone down into her lungs - which meant that each and every breath had become a gasping, rattling wheeze. The horrible, gasping noises she was making now reminded her forcibly of the sounds that Shannon had made when she had almost had an asthma attack up at the caves. Claire had sat in her nook and listened intently, her stomach twisting into knots to complement her clammy hands as they massaged her swollen belly. She had felt real sympathy for the girl - so strong and feisty but brought crashing down whenever she got a whiff of pollen.
Now all of her thoughts were on her destination - the beach camp. Knowing that it had taken almost two days of hiking through terrain that she was unfamiliar with to even get to the radio tower in the first place didn’t help matters. Rationally she knew that she had to slow down, find shelter, feed Aaron and keep him dry so that he didn’t get sick…
But all rational thought had gone out the window when she had seen a half dozen people get shot dead at point blank range by a machine gun.
The people from the boat had promised to send a helicopter to their location but had warned that it might take several hours. Still exuberant at the thought of being rescued, the survivors had milled around, buzzing happily whilst they waited. John Locke was tied up and gagged (forcibly) by Jack and nearly one hundred and eight minutes had passed before there was the tell-tale sound of rotors cutting through the air.
To Claire’s dismay, the moment Aaron heard the helicopters, he began to fuss. Noting that he was due for a feed anyway, she resignedly disappeared into the tree line to nurse him in private.
It was this action that ultimately would save her life.
It was also this action that would give her a perfect view of the helicopter when it crashed.
At the first sight of it the survivors let out an almighty cheer and Claire silently urged her son to hurry up so that she could join in with them. The excitement of the survivors was infectious, flooding into her heart even as she felt a pang of sadness that Charlie wasn’t here, holding her hand, the other hand resting on Aaron’s downy head, watching the rescue helicopter touch down to take them home.
He had promised her once - a long while ago now - that when they got rescued, he would take care of both Aaron and herself until they got themselves sorted out. At the time she had been wary of his offer but now she found herself thinking of all the things she had missed from home whilst she had been here - many of which she had listed with Charlie on a glorious, sun-soaked day by the ocean as they hung out her washing.
She didn’t want to go home to Sydney - Aaron and Charlie were the only two people in her life that truly mattered to her now. As long as the three of them were together, she felt like she was home. With mounting excitement, she began to think of all the things that she wanted to share with them both, all the things she wanted to do again and some that she wanted to try for the very first time. What better place for her to turn over a new leaf than in America with Charlie?
Whilst she had been off in her own little world, Aaron had finished feeding and was settling down into his blanket, yawning a little. Claire smiled down at her son fondly and was just going to fix her top when the helicopter gave a sudden wobble, catching her eye.
Claire watched, transfixed, as it wobbled again, slightly more violently this time. The crowd on top of the hill swayed and quieted, sensing that something wasn’t quite right. The helicopter dipped drunkenly to one side and then abruptly lost several feet of altitude…
“It’s going to crash!” one of the survivors screamed and Claire took an involuntary step backwards into the shelter of the trees even as she tucked herself back into her clothing and readjusted Aaron in her arms…
The door on the side of the helicopter opened, midair, and two bodies hurled themselves out.
The helicopter lost all control and then veered off towards the radio tower.
The survivors finally began to scatter, screaming madly as they went.
And then it hit.
Claire screamed out, (in warning, in horror) but her feeble voice was lost in the carnivorous roar of the fireball which had seized the top of the hill. As she watched, the flames reached out and plucked several people completely out of existence. One of the two men who had jumped from the helicopter was lost in the flames whilst the other caught a lucky thermal of hot air underneath his just-released parachute and he shot straight up, managing to avoid all of the flying shrapnel from a second, smaller explosion.
The initial shock wave burnt past Claire quite suddenly and tears flooded her eyes as she ducked behind a tree, Aaron bawling in her arms. The smell of burning metal and flesh invaded her senses as she whimpered uncontrollably into her son’s blanket and then a few seconds later the second shock wave came past, rattling the trees.
Oh my God…
Claire shut her eyes, willing it all to be nothing more than a dream, a terrible nightmare, but when she opened her eyes and peered desperately around the tree there was nothing but carnage. The wreckage of the helicopter was burning fiercely against the silhouette of the blackened radio tower. People were struggling to their feet, many of them burnt, crying out. Those who had been closest to the blast were nothing more than mounds of blackened flesh.
It was just like the plane crash all over again, Claire thought feverishly as she gaped out at the destruction and simply let her tears fall. The whole world seemed like it was on fire. Images rose unbidden in her mind - many of them still half repressed from the drugs that Ethan had used to sedate her. The searing pain of Aaron kicking out wildly against her ribs, the jolting turbulence of the plane, the rip and tear of metal on metal, a seat belt cutting sharply into her pregnant belly, the oxygen mask being ripped away from her face and then the elastic snapping it back onto her nose, a burning scrape against her chin, the sound of people screaming out in terror, a raging storm of fire, the frightening pain of her contractions, a wingtip falling towards her…
Claire gasped out loud as she saw Kate clamber to her feet, blackened and stumbling slightly but clearly alive. Looking around wildly, Kate found Jack and was at his side in an instant, helping him stand too. But before either of them could even consider helping any of the wounded, the remaining parachutist had appeared out of nowhere and was pointing a gun at them both, yelling wildly.
Claire watched, dithering frantically from her position in the trees. Should she come forward and reveal herself? Maybe she could help the wounded? But looking a little closer at the gun in the parachutists hand she began to feel slightly more apprehensive. She might not have ever fired a gun in her life, but due to having once had an action movie buff for a boyfriend, she certainly recognised a machine gun when she saw one. And what kind of person would have brought an automatic weapon to a potential rescue?
The guy was still yelling but now Jack was yelling back too. Claire felt the bottom drop out of her stomach as she imagined the conversation they were having. And then Jack said something that made the other man freeze. There was a long, awful moment where they stared at each other, and then the parachutist raised his gun suddenly, pointed it over at a small knot of survivors who had gathered together in a protective huddle and squeezed the trigger.
Claire’s mouth fell open but this time no sound came out except for the ghost of a whimper as at least half a dozen people fell to the ground. The screaming started anew as Jack tackled the parachutist and began to fight him for the gun. Another lot of shots went off as they each struggled for control of the weapon. Claire suddenly realised that the person who was screaming was Kate, her voice quite clear above the frighteningly loud staccato of the gun as it exhausted its supply of bullets into anything and anyone who happened to be in the wrong place…
And it was then that Claire had turned her back on the scene and began to run.
Whatever Jack had said, these people weren’t coming to rescue them.
~*~
Part Two: Earth and Air
Claire was soaked. She was exhausted. And her feet were both throbbing with what felt like the worlds largest collection of blisters.
But then running through the jungle at full pelt with a wailing, uncomfortable baby in your arms for hours would do that to a person.
It was hopeless, Claire thought desperately. She was already lost and she’d probably never find her way back to the beach now unless by some sort of fluke. And really, what did she know about surviving out here? She had enough food to keep her going for maybe another half a day but beyond that…
She would have to ration what she had. Even as she thought it, her stomach growled loudly at her, as though upset with her decision. Under the damp, dark shade of a tree, Claire pulled her jacket out of her bag. Mercilessly, it was only damp and not sodden like Aaron’s blanket. Worriedly she took her shivering son out of his blanket and wrapped him in her jacket instead. It wasn’t as warm as his blanket would have been but under the circumstances, she rather thought that being wrapped in a dry jacket would be better than a soggy blanket.
Her exposed skin tingling with the cold, she nursed her son and then fell into an exhausted sleep, propped up against the tree with Aaron held close to her breast to warm him.
She awoke when it was still dark, shivering so violently with the cold that she physically couldn’t stop herself. The rain had stopped now, and to help bring circulation back to her numb extremities, Claire stood, noting grimly that the seat of her jeans was soaked from the ground she had been sitting on. Aaron was quiet and still in her arms and for one terrified moment she thought that he had perished from the cold when she was asleep but then he shivered in her arms and snuffled unhappily.
Claire burst into tears. Even though she was glad that Aaron was alright, she was still frightened and in shock. Aaron awoke in distress and immediately began yowling. Claire fed him, swaying slightly on her feet and then, teeth chattering, she set off again. The air was fresh with the promise of morning and Claire took the time to stretch out her stiff legs by talking long, slow strides. She hadn’t realised just how sore her legs actually were until she started moving. Letting them freeze stiff all night certainly hadn’t done them any favours.
She walked for close to an hour, trying to stay under the cover of the trees as she put one foot in front of the other. The world shrank until nothing existed except Aaron’s warm weight in her arms, the chill air she was drawing into her lungs and the hard ground underfoot that made her legs ache all the more.
Dawn was just beginning to break when she heard the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.
Images of guns and cold, hard faces rose unbidden in her mind and Claire looked around for somewhere to hide but by then it was too late. Her assailant burst out of the trees on her left and Claire screamed, shielding Aaron from whatever new horror this was…
“Claire?”
She whipped back around again and before she could stop herself she was crying hopelessly again, a shaky fist pressed up against one cold cheek and her trembling lips.
“Oh! Charlie!”
He was soaked to the skin, just like her, and there was the residue of a recent fight in the form of a small assortment of cuts and bruises that were blemishing his tired face. But apart from that he was unscathed and clean and whole and it was Charlie and he was alive. Relief flooded her and Claire felt her knees give a grateful wobble. His eyes were dark, grey and alert as he strode over to her, concern and pain etched in every single feature of his face.
“What happened?” he demanded. “Where are the others?”
“Th-they’re dead!” Claire sobbed desperately, wanting nothing more than for Charlie to put his arms around her and hold her. “It must have been the wrong b-b-boat! They crash landed their helicopter into the radio tower and th-they jumped out and just started shooting everybody!”
“So it was all for nothing then!” Charlie said angrily. “Desmond had better hope that the bloody helicopter he saw on the beach comes or I’m going to kill him.”
“H-helicopter?” Claire said confusedly. “You mean th-the helicopter up at the r-radio tower?”
“No, the one he saw in his vision,” Charlie said quickly. “It’s going to take you home.”
“What?”
“Claire, listen to me,” Charlie said urgently. “You need to get back to the beach, you need to get on that helicopter okay? And I need you to get on it - listen to me carefully, this is really important okay? - you need to get on it without me.”
“What?” Claire said frantically. “No, no wait - If we’re getting rescued then you’re coming with me!”
“I can’t,” Charlie avoided her gaze. “I can’t go with you. I have to help the others. Those that survived in any case.”
“But I need you to stay with me!” Claire cried. She felt selfish for saying it but right now she didn’t really care. Charlie had gone off on some awful suicide mission without her and now that he was back with her again, all she wanted was to just hold on and never let go of him. “They’re probably all dead by now anyway - and I’m not going to let you risk your neck for them! It’s suicide!”
“I’m not risking my life for theirs,” Charlie said quietly. “I never risked my life for any of them. It was always for you Claire. I don’t care if nobody else gets off this island, as long as you’re safe I don’t care.”
Claire was momentarily dumbstruck by this revelation. “S-so why are you going to help them then? Why not just stay with me?”
Charlie shrugged and grinned at her. “Because apparently it’s what I’m meant to do.”
“Charlie…”
“You need to get back to the beach,” Charlie interrupted her and pointed at the direction from which he had just come. “You’ve been doing well so far. If you just keep on in that direction you’ll find yourself at the top of a hill where you can see the smoke from our camp. From there you should be able to get back by noon at the latest. Find Desmond, he’ll take care of you. Just do whatever he tells you and you’ll be okay. I’ve got to go.”
“There’s a guy up at the radio tower with a machine gun Charlie,” Claire pleaded. “What are you going to do against a machine gun?”
Charlie grinned at her. “Use my superior wit to outsmart him of course!”
Claire burst into renewed tears but Charlie didn’t say anything to comfort her. Instead, he reached out a hand to brush her tears away. His touch was icy cold, and so light against her skin that Claire could hardly feel it at all.
“I promised you that I’d keep you both safe,” he murmured. “And I’ve done all I can to do that. But this is what I’m supposed to do. This is meant to happen.”
Claire sniffed heavily and shut her eyes tightly to stem the flow of her tears. Charlie leant forward and kissed both her eyelids with such gentleness that it felt like his kisses were nothing more than air. His hands resting cold on either side of her face were feather light too - were they even there at all?
“Don’t wait up for me,” Charlie whispered. Claire opened her eyes and Charlie gazed back at her with a burning intensity that she had never seen before from him. “And don’t you dare miss me while we’re apart. We’ll meet again someday.”
“Charlie…”
“Shh,” he murmured and Claire felt her heartbeat slow right down as his cold hands stroked down her face. Something about his touch had made her calmer than she had ever been before - even in the face of so much danger and uncertainty. Charlie swallowed and for the first time he seemed to lose control of his emotions too as he murmured the final words he would ever say to her.
“I’ve always loved you.”
And with that he was gone, leaving Claire standing disorientated in the jungle, feeling lonelier than she had ever felt in her entire life even as the warm whisper of his words thawed the final shard of ice in her heart.
~*~
When Claire finally stumbled back onto the beach she was chilled right down to her bones, covered with dirt, completely exhausted, but alive. Hurley took charge of Aaron and Sawyer all but carried her to Sayid’s tent for an interrogation of what had happened up at the radio tower.
“And how did you escape?”Sayid asked her for the millionth time.
“I had to feed Aaron,” Claire said wearily. “I went into the jungle to have a bit of privacy and that’s when everything kind of happened. It was just a total fluke - I was really lucky.”
“Very lucky,” Sayid said grimly. “We’ve been unable to reach those up at the radio tower as of yet but hopefully the survivors will return here to the beach.”
“Does this mean that I can go and rest?” Claire said relieved.
“Yes of course,” Sayid helped her to her feet. “I’ll walk you back.”
“Thank you,” Claire sighed.
Her shelter was miraculously intact and Claire crawled onto her bed gladly and after she’d dragged the blanket over herself, she fell asleep instantly. Through a haze of confused dreams she heard Hurley come and go, replacing Aaron in his crib and someone she thought might have been Sawyer came and watched her for a long while before padding off again through the sand.
It was dusk when she was awoken by a firm hand on her shoulder.
“Whozair?” she mumbled, trying to unglue her eyes.
“It’s me Claire,” Desmond began, his voice cracking slightly. “Can you wake up? I need to talk to you about something.”
“It’s okay Desmond,” Claire said, sitting up groggily. “I know where Charlie is. I think he’s gonna be okay.”
Desmond merely stared at her.
“I saw him in the jungle,” Claire said defensively. “He told me about your vision, the helicopter and everything.” Desmond continued to stare at her as though he’d just seen a ghost. Claire tucked a strand of hair self consciously behind her ear as she scrutinised him. He looked awful, as exhausted as she herself was, and his eyes were red as though he’d been crying. “Do you know when the helicopter is coming?” she prompted. “Des?”
“How’d you know about the helicopter?” Desmond choked out.
“Because Charlie told me,” Claire said, frustrated that Desmond wasn’t catching on any faster. “I saw him in the jungle and he told me that I had to get on it and that you’d take care of me.”
“Charlie was…” Desmond sat back on his heels looking dazed. “Charlie can’t’ve been in the jungle with you Claire. He’s dead.”
Claire scoffed. “I saw him in the jungle just this morning!” she informed him. “He’s not dead Desmond.”
Desmond shook his head at her, still looking as though he’d just been hit upside the head with a two-by-four and then, inexplicably, Aaron began to cry. As Claire went to soothe him Desmond stood, one bewildered hand pushing through his long hair as he stood there, unable to speak.
It wasn’t until there was a yell from further down the beach that Claire realised why Aaron had woken up and started crying in the first place. Throughout his entire life, he would always have a pathological fear of the rhythmic thwop thwop noise that a helicopters rotors slicing through the air makes.
The downdraught from the helicopter was blowing sand all over the beach and into people’s eyes as the beach camp survivors who had stayed behind flocked over to it. Claire followed them swiftly, Desmond at her side.
“Is this it?” Claire turned to Desmond who was gazing open mouthed at the electric monstrosity before them. “Is this the helicopter?”
He turned to her, his eyes spilling over and merely nodded.
“They can only take on one more passenger!” Sayid, who was nearest to the helicopter, had been conversing in yells to the co-pilot. “I think we should decide quickly and send them off right now before they begin to run out of fuel!”
“How do we know these aren’t the same guys who shot our people up at the radio tower?” Sawyer argued. “We can’t trust ’em!”
“Yes we can!” Claire yelled. Everyone turned to stare at her. “I can’t stay here with Aaron if there’s going to be another attack! I’ll go! Anything would be better than here!”
Everyone stared at her in shock except for Sayid who immediately began yelling something at the co-pilot. He listened to the response carefully and then, a moment later, he turned back to Claire.
“You’ve got three minutes to pack up your essentials!” he yelled over the noise of the rotors. “And then they’ll be lifting off with or without you! Hurry!”
Claire ran, her exhaustion forgotten. Aaron was crying in her arms, sand was spraying up behind her heels as she bolted for her shelter but she had no time to think. The time for thinking, for deliberating was long since over. She put Aaron down in his cradle and began to frantically ransack her belongings and shove them into her backpack. Clean clothes for her, nappies for Aaron, her diary…
The helicopter was still creating a mini sand storm when she ran back, Aaron wailing in her arms from the noise of the helicopter and the sand that was gritty and harsh against his fine skin. Sawyer was still arguing with Sayid while the other survivors looked on disinterestedly, but Claire only had eyes for one person.
“Desmond!” she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him in close so that she could be heard without yelling. “Tell Charlie that I love him too, okay? And that I’ll be seeing him soon!”
Desmond looked pained but nodded all the same. Claire nodded back, squeezed his hand and then moved over to the helicopter. After throwing her bag in first, Hurley gave her a leg up and the co-pilot grasped her free hand and pulled her inside.
The moment she was in, the helicopter rose rapidly, like a champagne cork popping out of a bottle and all too soon they were lifting away from the island, the people she had left behind mere grains of sand in the distance. Far off, over the island, a plume of black smoke rose over what Claire knew must be the radio tower. And for the first time in three months she felt a sense of relief crashing over her that was so great that she almost began to weep.
She was going home.
Aaron was still crying, the noise of the rotors was loud even inside the cramped helicopter but Claire leant over him and tried to soothe him as best she could.
“Don’t cry baby - daddy wouldn’t want you to cry. He’d want you to be brave like him.”
“Where is his daddy?” the co-pilot asked curiously and Claire jumped, not realising that he had left his chair again and was offering her a bottle of water.
“We had to leave him behind on the island,” Claire said, surprised to realise that she had just called Charlie Aaron’s daddy without even thinking. “He couldn’t have come with us anyway - there’s not enough room on here.”
“Well I’m sure they’ll get this mess sorted out soon enough,” the co-pilot said sheepishly. “It’s all just been one big misunderstanding from the word go. But once everything gets sorted I’m sure he’ll be on the next chopper home to be with you both.”
Claire paused then, and looked out to the darkening skies. And even though in that moment she felt a warning tug on her heart that told her that the co-pilot was wrong and that really, she would never see Charlie again, she still nodded and said, “Yes. I’m sure he will.”
Her intuition, she knew, was rarely ever wrong.
~*~
Epilogue: Metal
It was a rainy Sunday afternoon and Claire was nursing the dregs of a lukewarm cup of chamomile tea as she gazed at the rain sliding down the window panes in the kitchen. Aaron was crashing about in the lounge room making an indoor cubby house with sheets filched from the hall cupboard and guarded by a selection of teddy bears. Rainy days were always the worst, Claire had found, to find things to do to keep him occupied so she was grateful when he found his own games instead.
Standing with a tired sigh, Claire made her way over to the ancient gas stove where her equally ancient kettle was resting lazily. The gas was on and she was just striking a match to boil the kettle up again when a knock on the door startled her into dropping the entire box of matches all over the floor. She turned the gas off quickly and then hastily retrieved the spilt matches, wondering who on earth would be calling on a Sunday. Aaron seemed to be thinking along the same lines as well because when she came into the lounge to answer the door, he peeped out from the entrance to his cubby and gazed querulously at her.
“Whozair mummy?” he asked.
“I don’t know baby,” Claire bent down and ruffled his hair affectionately. “Hang on…”
Aaron retreated back into his own little world, muttering as he went, “Nobody ever comes over on Sundays…”
Claire unlocked the front door and opened it up tentatively. The freezing draught that blew through stung her eyes and for a moment she didn’t recognise the tall man who was standing on her veranda, trying to keep out of the torrential downpour outside. When he smiled nervously, one hand twisting through his dramatically shortened hair, she gasped out loud and fumbled desperately at the lock on the screen door until it was open too. He stepped onto the threshold gladly, leaving muddy footprints behind him on the welcome mat and allowing the light from the hallway to illuminate his handsome, weathered face.
“Desmond?” Claire breathed.
“Aye,” he said, slightly breathlessly. “Can I come in?”
~*~
Aaron peered curiously at Desmond from around the corner of the kitchen doorframe but didn’t dare come inside the room, even after Claire introduced the two of them to each other.
“You’ve certainly grown a bit haven’t you?” Desmond crouched down to grin at the child. “Last time I saw you, you were just a bairn.”
Aaron pretended to hide behind the doorframe even as he peered up at Desmond through sandy eyelashes. Claire smiled indulgently at her son’s antics and then gestured Desmond into a chair.
“He’s normally pretty shy around strangers until he gets to know them a bit better,” she explained apologetically. “Did you want a cup of tea? Coffee?”
“I could go a coffee actually,” Desmond said, sitting down with a groan. “I haven’t had my caffeine fix today yet.”
Both adults were silent as Claire set about making him a cup of instant - the only kind she had - and a fresh cup of tea for herself as Aaron disappeared back into the lounge room and began to crash about again. It wasn’t until she had sat down opposite him with her mug and offered him a Tim Tam that Claire finally spoke.
“So when did you get back?”
Desmond blew across the top of his coffee to cool it and took his first tentative sip before answering her. “I got off the island just on eight months ago now. Had to go back home and take care of some things first…” he indicated a gold band on his left hand and Claire smiled widely at the implication behind the piece of jewellery. “…And then I started on the phenomenal task of finding you and getting over here to see you.”
“Is - Penny wasn’t it? - is she at home then?”
Desmond laughed. “Oh God no. She paid for the tickets so she’s busily traipsing around Sydney shopping to her hearts content. We’re officially meant to be on our honeymoon right now but I told her that if we were going to go to Australia then I wanted to find you.”
Claire nodded thoughtfully at her tea and then addressed Desmond directly. “And why did you want to find me?”
Desmond frowned. “Well, it’s just that you left so suddenly and I never got the chance to tell you about-about Charlie before you went. I felt like I owed it to you - and to Aaron.”
Claire nodded and took a slow sip of tea. “If you’ve come to tell me that he’s dead you needn’t have bothered. I already know that he’s dead Des. I’ve known it for a long time.”
Desmond was silent for a long time, considering his next words carefully. “Do you know how he died? And why?”
Claire sighed heavily and then leant back, leaving her hands clasped around her mug. “Tell me.”
“He died for you. You and Aaron. He had to be the one to unblock the signal - the code to unblock it was written by a musician, nobody else could have done it except him.” Desmond paused here to lick his lips nervously and when he spoke again his voice was flat and dead. “Once he’d unblocked it he got a transmission coming through from Penny, my Penny. She told him that it wasn’t her boat offshore and while he was talking to her, the porthole in the control room got smashed in by one of the Others. Charlie couldn’t get out in time. He drowned.”
Claire was silent.
“I had to leave Charlie down there. I swam back to shore,” Desmond continued, his voice still flat, still dead. “The bloke who killed Charlie had taken the outrigger. I got back to the beach camp and told them that the boat was the wrong one. That Naomi had been lying. We tried to contact Jack, to let him know, but it was too late. We got no answer. By the time you got back we were already expecting the worst. Then the helicopter came out of nowhere and took you home.”
“So…Charlie drowned down in the Looking Glass?”Claire said confusedly. “But that’s not possible Desmond. I told you that I ran into him in the jungle on my way back from the radio tower and he helped show me the way back to the beach camp again. He said he was headed up to the radio tower to help them!”
“I watched him drown Claire,” Desmond said flatly. “There’s no way he could have been in the jungle with you that day. You must have imagined it or...”
Claire glared at him scathingly. “I didn’t imagine it Desmond. He was there with me, he helped me!”
The two of them stared at each other for a long time and then Desmond lowered his eyes. “Aye,” he admitted grudgingly. “Perhaps you thought you did see him out there. But like I said, he was definitely dead at that point Claire.”
After a very tense moment, Desmond reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew a small velvet pouch.
“I kept this for you,” he placed it on the table between them. “All of these long years. Hurley found it in your things after you left. I guess Charlie must have left it for you but in the mad dash to get you on the helicopter you must have missed it…”
Claire undid the cord and shook out the contents of the pouch onto her palm.
She recognised the contents instantly.
“His ring,” she murmured, worrying the cold metal with her fingertips. And then came a slowly dawning realisation. “He knew he wasn’t going to come back.”
“Aye,”
“Bastard!” she said indignantly. “He could have at least told me when he saw me in the jungle that I wasn’t going to see him again!”
Desmond laughed nervously. “I guess he thought that telling you that he was actually dead at the time he was talking to you wasn’t a very good idea.”
Claire made a noise of dissent and slid the ring onto her thumb where the initials gleamed up at her.
“You know,” she said quietly. “I still think of him sometimes - about what might have happened if he’d gotten off the island with me. There’s not much point missing him, I’ve known that he’s dead for years - I could just feel it, you know? But I do think of him.”
Desmond reached out and laid one of his large brown hands over both of Claire’s pale ones. The metal of the ring warmed at his touch and Claire smiled across the table at him.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Thank you for keeping it safe for me all these years. It means a lot, to have something of his. You know, to help me remember him by.”
“It was an absolute pleasure,” Desmond smiled back.
When he went to leave, Desmond waved at Aaron who burrowed back into his cubby hurriedly.
“Well thank you for the visit,” Claire paused with her hand on the rickety old coat rack just inside her front door. “Do you need to borrow an umbrella?”
“I’ll be fine,” Desmond said dismissively then grinned. “I grew up in Scotland after all. It’s a wee bit colder over there. I think it’s stopped raining now in any case.”
“Okay,” Claire hovered awkwardly but then Desmond surprised her by putting his arms around her and giving her a quick squeeze before letting himself out onto the slippery veranda. “Careful that you don’t slip on that wet concrete.” she chastised him immediately and Desmond grinned at the motherly tone in her voice.
“I’ll be right. If you’re ever in England be sure to look us up.”
“Sure,” Claire nodded then added hastily, “Hang on, what’s your last name?”
The two of them stared at each other and then laughed.
“It’s Hume,” he said, amused. “H-U-M-E.”
“Okay,” Claire coloured, embarrassed. “Give Penny all my best. And if you ever want a cup of coffee and you happen to be in the area…”
“I’ll be sure to come by,” Desmond promised. He clasped her hand briefly and then glanced at Charlie’s ring one last time, rather covetously Claire thought. “You know,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe you did see Charlie in the jungle that day. Maybe he stayed behind to make sure you both got home safely?” he laughed suddenly. “I certainly wouldn’t have put that past him. He would’ve done anything for you two.”
And with those final words, he disappeared into the drizzling rain leaving Claire standing there, lost in thought and memory, tracing the initials on Charlie’s ring.
Fin.