Reunion ~
On the Ajira flight off the Island, Claire had tried to imagine her reunion with Aaron repeatedly, even obsessively.
What did he even look like? Would he remember her? Would he accept her?
The questions chased circles in her skull. Relentlessly.
Her memories of him were few but comforting. She remembered his scent. She remembered how it felt to hold him against her. She remembered the soft down on his head, brushing up against her palm and fingertips.
Carrying him had been terrifying. Losing him, even more so.
Her heart gave a throb. She found herself white-knuckled, clutching the arm of the seat to anchor herself.
He wasn't like that anymore. Kate had told her Aaron was four. Four years old. Claire had been absent for three of them.
Claire glanced over at her freckled, brunette friend, fast asleep in the seat beside her. Her face painted in a mask of still-drying tears. Blood stained the place where a bullet had put a hole through her shoulder.
She appreciated all Kate had done for her. It wasn't exactly easy to raise a child alone. Kate had done it without anyone asking. She'd done it because she cared about Aaron. Cared about Claire.
Yet, there was still resentment buried somewhere deep inside her. All those years, all those memories. First words. First steps. Everything. They belonged to Kate.
She was glad to be rid of the island. The godforsaken place had brought her so much pain. Sure, there had been some good moments. Walks on the beach, eating imaginary peanut butter with Charlie, quiet afternoons with her newborn son. Those three years she had spent alone, the days she had been pigeon-holed in her makeshift hut, with only a rifle and a skull for company, were a period in her life she'd rather forget.
The plane shuddered a little, bouncing. She gasped inwardly, memories of the crash rushing back. She'd been conscious for all of it. She remembered the desperation as the tail was ripped away. The fear so real, so blinding. Fumbling with the seatbelt around her enormous baby bump. The plane's impact, thrown from the seat, scraping her chin as she hit the floor of the plane. Crawling out of the battered fuselage and onto the sand . . .
"Turbulence is normal." A voice startled her from her reverie. Sawyer had gotten up, walking toward the front of the plane. She allowed herself a small smile, loosening her grip on Kate's hand, which she had unknowingly taken hold of as the panic came rushing back.
"That's what I heard."
Sawyer's southern drawl turned to a pleasant little chuckle.
"You need anything, Blondie?" He asked.
"No. I'm good. Thanks, though."
Sawyer returned her smile, the corners of his mouth lifting, then sauntered off, disappearing into the bathroom.
Claire let sleep quiet her thoughts. No nightmares touched her, as they often had in the past. She was awoken by the sound of the seatbelt sign flicking on.
"I'm landing this thing in LA." Frank called to them from the cockpit. "After that, I should probably consider retirement." He added, cockily. It got him a chuckle, courtesy of Sawyer.
Claire felt the nose the plane dip slightly towards the ground. Kate shifted beside her, eyes flying open.
"Hey." Claire said, softly.
"Hey." She responded, hand reaching up to run through her matted brown curls.
"How long was I out?"
"Couple hours. We are currently making our descent." The young Australian joked.
Kate's face twisted into a small smile, somewhat forced.
"Good."
They sat in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, though. Claire was glad to have Kate by her side. Like a fellow soldier, in the aftermath of a war. Once this thing landed, there would be cameras, news reporters, tearful families, questions, everything.
She was right.
Frank had requested to land in LAX, the radio somewhat functional. Once he got the A-OK, they were on the ground. Night had fallen, but that didn't stop the wave of people, insistent on greeting them upon their arrival.
They were met with an army of airport staff, a few news reporters, and an ambulance to boot. Their families had been alerted and directed to go the hospital. Claire clung close to Kate's side. Sawyer was there with them, one arm locked around Kate's shoulders, the other fending off microphones and cameras and bright lights. A paramedic whisked the three of them into the ambulance, just as another pulled up to take Miles, Frank, and Richard.
"Wait, what are you doing with them?" Kate yelled, concern evident in her eyes. "You're all going to the same place." The paramedic said hurriedly, shutting the door behind them. Sawyer sat across from them, arms folded on his chest, unreadable. A fresh onset of tears marked Kate's face. Claire just glanced around the place, sitting on her hands, swinging her legs back and forth distractedly.
The hospital was only a five-minute drive from the airport. The paramedics left the sirens off, in no apparent hurry. Then, they ushered them inside. Claire was immediately separated from Kate and Sawyer. She called out for them, but the door was shut between them before she could get more than two words out.
"What are you doing?" She said, panic setting in again. All this was horribly familiar. Separation anxiety. She'd be dealing with it for the rest of her life.
"Where are you taking me?" She screamed, trying to push past the nurse.
"Please calm down, ma'am." The nurse said, gently.
Claire closed her mouth, realizing, for the first time, what she must look like right now. A crazed, bloodstained woman in her late twenties, returned from an island of mystery after four years. Emotionally unstable? You bet.
"I'm not crazy." She said, distractedly.
The nurse stared at her for a few moments, then sighed.
"I believe you, hon."
She was led to an examination table, and instructed to sit. The nurse darted around the room, checking her vitals. Blood pressure. Pulse. Eyes, ears, nose and mouth. Scars taken into a account, cuts stitched, weighed measured. Then the questions.
"You were in a plane crash, correct?"
Claire just stared blankly.
"Yes. I'm one of the survivors of Oceanic 815." She said monotonously.
"Where did you crash?"
"On an island near Fiji. Somewhere in the pacific ocean."
"What was it like?"
Claire raised her eyebrows.
"Are you kidding me?"
The nurse just shrugged, shaking her head.
She left, leaving Claire to herself.
She was really here, in Los Angeles. After four years. Thrown headfirst into the real world again. She didn't know what would become of her. All she knew, she had to get back to Aaron. As soon as possible. If she didn't, it would push her into insanity.
The sound of the door swinging open caught her attention. A man crossed the room, wearing a friendly smile. He held out a hand, and Claire shook it, hesitantly. "Hello, Claire. Looks like all your tests are fine. You can go home, if you want. I hear Ajira Airlines are providing you with a hotel room across the street, along with your friends." She gave him a small smile. "Thank you."
"My pleasure. I'll go file your release. Take care of yourself."
He turned and tucked some papers in a folder, but paused on his way out of the room.
"Listen, do you know Jack Shephard?"
Her heart sunk.
"No." She responded bluntly, unsure if she should give away an information until they had a game plan. There'd be interviews in their future, she guessed.
"Oh, alright. Good luck!"
He left the room.
Her nurse came back and handed her a bundle of clothes. They looked so strikingly clean, odd in her dirt-caked fingernails.
She was allowed to leave five minutes later. Someone helped her find the hotel that Ajira had set up for them. The people at the front desk accepted her explanation good naturedly, though they avoided getting too close to her.
In the hotel room, Claire placed the bundle of clothes on the corner of the bed, then paced for a good twenty minutes, mind running wild. There was a knock, and she cautiously opened the door a crack. A smiling Kate, accompanied by Sawyer, Miles, Frank, and Richard. She opened the door, smiling widely. Sawyer embraced her, then Kate.
"You okay?"
Claire nodded.
"Yep."
Everybody settled in, Miles and Lapidus on the little couch in the room. Richard on the edge of the bed. Sawyer perched at the windowsill. Kate busied herself making coffee for everyone, then seated herself on the second bed.
They made small talk, but the conversation soon deflated. It was so odd, all of them sitting together in such a normal setting, not in danger of the Man in Black, or any of the Island's secrets any longer.
"So. What do we do now?" Miles said, quietly.
"We go home, I guess." Sawyer shrugged, hiding behind his usual, emotionless mask.
"Last time there were interviews and stuff. You think that's gonna happen again?"
"Your guess is as good as mine." Frank replied, rubbing his eyes. "I'm gonna hit the hay. You guys call me when you get settled in. Keep in touch." He stood, and he hugged everyone in turn. Soon, everyone trickled out, returning to bed. Claire clambered between the blankets in her clothes from the island. She fell asleep instantly, and awoke soon later to sunlight streaming through the hotel windows.
With nothing to do, she took up pacing the length of the room, thoughts of Aaron once again driving her up the wall. She wanted to see him.
"Claire!" Kate threw open the door. She had braided back her hair, a blue tank top concealing the bruises, the bullet wound just visible.
"I just borrowed the phone in the lobby. Aaron's back at my house . . . With his grandma."
Claire swallowed. Kate had told her about her mother's miraculous recovery. At first, she had been overjoyed. Now, it just made her all the more nervous.
Claire started to follow Kate out the door, but stopped suddenly, as if she had seen a ghost. She hadn't.
She'd seen her reflection.
Matted hair, sunken eyes. A layer of grime coating her face.
"He can't see me like this." She whispered.
"What?"
"Aaron. I don't want him to see me like this. I can't do this, Kate. I can't."
Claire felt her knees give out. She sunk to the floor, tears streaming down her face.
"I can't do it . . ."
"Claire . . ." Kate began, sitting down beside her.
"I can't!"
It was no use. Claire had crossed some line of hysteria. Kate sat with her while she sobbed.
After a while, she convinced the younger woman to take care of herself. Claire stepped into the shower cautiously, letting the water run over her, relishing the feeling. Slowly, she worked soap into her hair, untangling her hair with her fingers.
She dressed in the jeans and soft green t-shirt the airport had given her, meeting Kate, who stood anxiously, just outside the bathroom door.
"I think that's the first shower I've had in three years." She joked, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.
They got a cab. The hospital was a twenty minute drive from Kate's house in Los Angeles.
Claire hesitated, before following Kate up the pathway. Kate pushed open the door cautiously, and stepped inside. The front room was empty. They continued through the house, entering the kitchen.
He sat at the table, eating cereal, his toes hanging suspended inches above the floor. Claire's breath caught in her throat when her eyes landed on him. A storm of emotions tore a hole in her heart. Everything she had planned to say, everything she had rehearsed in her head, it vanished. How do you explain to a four-year-old kid that his whole life has been one big, ugly lie? How do you tell him he was born on some hellish island, in the aftermath of a plane crash?
She was left, literally speechless, standing in the doorway. So very alone and small.
And she couldn't take her eyes off of him. He looked at her, somewhat puzzled. Kate glanced at her, and, understanding, spoke up.
"Aaron." She said, slowly.
"Hi, Mommy." He said, leaping off the stool to throw his arms around her knees.
"Hi, baby." She said, hollowly. Claire could see the pain in her eyes. Felt her own heart throb with jealousy.
"Listen, Aaron. I'd like you to meet someone. She's an old friend. I've known her for a long time. And, well," Kate hesitated, swallowing hard.
"She's your mommy."
Aaron stared at Claire.
Claire stared right back. Tears had begun to flow freely from her cheeks. Through the hot tears, she thought she caught a flicker of recognition in her son's eyes.
No. Could it be possible? Could he remember her after all these years?
"I thought you were my mommy." He turned back to Kate.
"No, sweetheart. I'm not. Your mommy, Claire, she couldn't take care of you anymore. I was her best friend, so I decided to take care of you for her, until she could come back. Now she's back. And she's missed you so much, Aaron. She loves you very, very much." Kate's eyes glazed over with tears for a moment.
Claire knelt down, opening her arms. Knowing, if he didn't go into them, it would break her into a million tiny pieces. But still, understanding that if he didn't, it wasn't his fault. She was a complete stranger.
Aaron hesitated, glancing at Kate, who nodded, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
And he ran to her. She enfolded him in her embrace, his head crashing into her chest. She held him, rocking back and forth on her knees, tears dripping into his tousled blond curls. Claire was sobbing. Pure joy radiated from her as she held her baby, shaking like a leaf, laughing through her tears. Aaron's body immediately molded into hers. He relaxed, laying his head against her cheek. He was her missing puzzle piece. She was so used to being incomplete, the fullness she felt was overwhelming.
Claire let go of him, stood up, and ran to Kate, crushing her in a hug.
"Thank you." She sobbed. The two friends held each other.
"Thank you."
Aaron ran to both of them, clinging to Claire's legs. She bent down and hugged him again, still rocking. Letting the tears come.
She knew now.
They were supposed to be together.
And nothing in the world would ever tear them apart.