Title: Unread Letters
Original post date: 19th February 2006
Spoilers: Up to the 23rd Psalm
Summary: After Claire finds out about the heroin, she writes in her diary and Charlie finds a spare piece of paper to write his own thoughts down.
Disclaimer: You know the drill. Not mine.

I don't like being alone.

When Thomas left me – you know, looking back it's really not that long ago is it? And then I was alone for a long while with just the baby in my womb. I didn't want to get too attached to it you know? But its hard not to when you've got this huge bulge out the front of you and there's nobody else to talk to – I kind of just ended up talking to my stomach a lot. I've read a lot of pregnant women do but it still feels a little strange when I look back now.

Wait…I was talking about Thomas wasn't I? Right. Well my friends were all so supportive – of course. That's what friends do right? They were all so angry at him on my behalf; "How dare that bastard do that to you Claire? How could he say that he was willing to give it a go like that and then just change his mind? If I ever see him again I'm going to gouge his eyes out with a rusty fork…"

But then after all the death threats and sympathy and hugs and tissues…they all went home. Back to their boyfriends, partners, lovers, fuck buddies – whatever the hell they went back to, they had somebody there with them.

And I was still alone.

And I began to think, how could they possibly even imagine how I must be feeling right now? Had any of them ever gotten knocked up and then dumped? Well? Had they? No! They hadn't! So there was no way in hell they knew what it felt like to have an unwanted, unloved child about to be brought into the world.

So I stopped answering their calls.

And then I started making excuses.

I've got a doctors appointment. Sorry. Maybe we could catch up some other time?

I've got a yoga class. Sorry. Maybe we could catch up some other time?

I'm having a "me" day today. Sorry. Maybe we could catch up some other time?

I don't want to see you. Sorry. Maybe when you actually understand how I feel I'll talk to you again.

And they stopped trying.

And then I was more alone than I had ever been before. There was nobody I could turn to for advice when Richard Malkin was hounding my every step, nobody who could be bothered if I wasn't even going to try. I let the battery in my mobile die one day and I never plugged it back in again.

It's probably still sitting the exact place I left it nearly five months ago.

And then of course there was the crash.

The first month is still tattered a little around the edges, vague impressions of people, meetings. I remember Jack in particular, Kate, Jin, Charlie…

Charlie.

I really seemed to matter to him. I still remember that first awkward conversation we had in the caves, when I came back from the jungle – how he gave me my diary back. I remember how nervous he seemed, but at the same time practically itching to reach out and touch me.

But I didn't know him, and the idea of this unknown man coming anywhere near me, getting into my personal space was so scary that for a while I tried to push him away only to realise that he was the most familiar thing I had. Everyone else was too translucent around the edges for my amnesia-addled brain to grasp onto.

And slowly I've remembered other things. Like the fact that he was a drug addict. God that shocked me when Eko broke open that statue and suddenly I just knew, as surely as if Charlie himself had walked up to me in a fluoro pink shirt with the words "I'm a drug addict" emblazoned across the chest.

Click. Bang. Just like that.

You know what would have been good? If he'd somehow picked up any of the subtle hints that I was becoming more and more disinterested in him (and his antics) anyway – especially as his over protectiveness of Aaron (and me) kept going and going. He's not Aaron's father after all. He's not my boyfriend or my lover or anything like that.

He had no right to interfere like that, he was a friend and that's all. A good friend.

Not that there weren't times when I just wanted him to put his arms around me and hold me. It's been such a long time since anyone's hugged me properly. The one time Charlie and I hugged, I was the one who initiated it. It felt kind of strange at first and I hesitated before putting my arms around him – I was so unused to the sensation. And I had Aaron in my arms as well which didn't help.

I can't believe I ever let him near Aaron now, knowing what I do now. Because when it comes down to it, I never really knew Charlie that well and yet there he always was, muscling into my life, sharing my son. The thing is, he seems to know me whereas I have no idea who he is or where he's come from.

And its not out of choice, I've asked him questions before and all he does is avoid talking about himself, seemingly content to crack a joke and then switch the spotlight back to me – which I hate. Doesn't he know enough already?

I think he's truly sorry for lying to me but it doesn't change what he did, does it? And it certainly doesn't change my opinion of him. He's a junkie, end of story. Well, ex-junkie he says but how would I know? When did he ever tell me anything? He's lied to me before – like when Ethan was killing people to try and get me back, and I'm betting he's lied a fair few times since then, maybe even before then.

It's not like he needs to protect me, and I never asked him to fall in love with me or anything.

Did I just say he loves me? Does he love me?

Do I love him?

Isn't that a cruel irony? I can't stand being alone and yet I can't be with anyone either. And not just because the only person who's willing to give everything for me isn't giving the right bits of his everything to me.

…I'm just confusing myself now.

I guess I'll go now. Aaron's probably about ready to be fed anyway.

Claire, I know it doesn't mean much now – not after what happened between us – but I wanted to tell you all the same; I always knew there was something special about you, from the moment I first met you I could see that you had something…I don't know what it was but I was drawn to you like the proverbial moth. I can't say I've fallen in love with you because I don't think I've ever experienced that particular emotion properly before, but I sure as hell feel something, and that something only makes me feel good. You make me feel good. Maybe I've screwed things up beyond repair – I do tend to arse up the best things going in my life but…God I don't even know what I was going to say now…this is the hardest thing…Claire, I want you to be happy. And if that means that I have to be out of the picture then…I guess I'm just going to have to deal with that (even if I don't like it). You know what? I don't think I'll give this to you after all. You'll probably just get angry with me again and then rip this up into lots of little bits and then toss it into a fire and watch it burn. Or maybe I'm just being overdramatic. Maybe one day I'll actually get the balls up to come and talk to you, tell you everything about me that I never told anyone because you deserve to know why I did what I did to you – because you didn't deserve to be lied to and I know that I'm the world's biggest sod for keeping anything from you in the first place. And you know what else? I am in love with you. There. I said it. It doesn't matter if you never find out, it gives me a good reason to mope and hey, maybe one day you'll find out anyway. You always find everything out anyway. Somehow. I'm writing too much now, wasting paper and ink with words you'll never read anyway. I've nearly covered it front and back and that's without chopping it up into paragraphs and trying to keep my writing tiny as well. I guess I should sign off, make it official so that I don't try and write anything more.

Youamand Love always, Charlie