This is dedicated to a good friend of mine. He actually helped me write the outline for this back in May of '06… I've just updated it and filled in a few details.
I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as we did writing it.
Thank you.

Note: I'm only borrowing the title it because I think "The End of Innocence" (the title, not the song itself) fits the Shephard story. Don Henley owns the song.

It was a breezy clear afternoon on the beach, and Claire intended to spend it in perfect peaceful solitude. She had asked Charlie to take Aaron for a few hours while she cleaned up and did some house-keeping. Granted, the tent wasn't much of a house, but she had insisted that it needed cleaning and everything needed to be rearranged. She couldn't explain why, but she loved the feeling of getting things done.

Charlie had laughed at her—until she had told him that he would either help her clean or take Aaron… or else. Well, he sobered up after that, even tried to apologize, and took the baby down the beach. Actually, he was quite proud of himself for being the infant's sole entertainment for the entire afternoon. It was time for some hardcore baby bonding.

Claire hummed as she went along, absolutely determined that this would be a cheerful and carefree day. Anything that could be washed would be washed, and she busied herself with getting everything into a pile. She would wash all of it and hang it up to dry, and while it was drying she would rearrange the five pieces of furniture that completed her tiny establishment. She was amazed by the accumulation of clothing that had occurred in three months—she obviously hadn't left Australia with anything that she had now, as everything she had brought with her only fit when she was pregnant.

A scrap pf paper caught her eye as she was about to leave and she knelt down to pick it up—balancing carefully so that she did not drop what she was carrying. "What in the world…?" she murmured. The writing on the back was barely legible. Whoever had written it had done so quickly and carelessly, and besides, the ink had faded so much that Claire doubted she would have been able to make it out either way. She flipped it over and gasped immediately. It was a photograph of her father. The picture was weather-beaten and faded, but she would have recognized that face anywhere. She froze, realizing that she had never had a picture of him, whatever his name was. She had not even wanted to know his name—much less to have an actual photograph. It must have been someone else's… but who's?

Claire stood up, forgetting her bundle, and everything fell to the ground. "Bloody hell!" she snapped to anything that might have heard, "So much for a carefree afternoon." She slipped the picture into her pocket and went to work getting her things back together. She walked down to the shoreline where the tide was still out and absentmindedly began to wash one item at a time. She didn't even hear Hurley ask if she wanted help, and she barely noticed when he brought a basket for her to put the clean things in. She thanked him, of course, but he noted that she wasn't paying attention. She was distracted and seemed to be upset about something.

Leave it to Hurley to meddle. He didn't mean to, but that's what he did nonetheless. He was worried, and even though he told himself that it was nothing or that it was only that she had gotten into a little fight with Charlie (and that was a more reasonable assumption) he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He went to look for Charlie but couldn't find him. That was odd. Oh well… if Charlie wasn't around, maybe Jack would talk to her. After all, he was a doctor, and if something was wrong with Claire he should know about it.

"Yo! Jack!" Hurley called out, when he could see the doctor, "Can I talk to you for a sec?"
Jack was busy with something—with what, Hurley couldn't tell, and frankly, he didn't care. "It's kinda important."

"Sure, Hurley, "Jack smiled good-naturedly "What's up?" He didn't have to be persuaded.

"It's Claire. I think something might be wrong with her." Hurley blurted out all at once.

"Really?" Jack cocked his head slightly "Why's that?" He would listen, but there was no sense in getting worried about nothing.

"Well, she's just… I don't know man. Something's up." Hurley shook his head. "She seemed kinda moody."

"Moody?" Jack asked skeptically, "Did she—"

"Barbie's moody?" Sawyer piped up as he glanced up from the pages of his book "Big surprise there, boys. I'd be real worried if I were you."

"Not now, Sawyer." Hurley snapped impatiently, and Jack glared daggers at the notorious conman.

Sawyer only smirked at him and winked once before he buried himself back in his book. He had just done Hurley a favor, whether the other two men noticed or not.

"Just talk to her, okay, Dude?" Hurley pleaded, "I don't want anything, like, bad to happen to her. She's been through enough already."

"Okay, I'll talk to her." Jack gave in. "I'm sure she's fine Hurley, but I'll talk to her." If he didn't then Sawyer probably would, judging from his apparent interest in the situation, however unclear it had been. If Claire wasn't moody now…well, Jack supposed she would be then. He nodded to Hurley and then headed off down the beach where he had seen Claire walking earlier.

"Claire!" Jack called out, when he could see her. He wasn't that far away now and he made good time getting to the place where she was.

Claire looked up, startled when she heard her name. Why was she so jumpy all of a sudden? It was only Jack though, and she forced herself to smile as he reached her. "Hey, Jack."

"Hey, mind if I join you?" Jack asked as he sat down. He didn't wait for her approval.

"Sure." She said, knowing that it wouldn't have mattered if she had said no, as he had sat right down anyway. Something was up.

"Everything alright, Claire?" he asked as he picked up one of the shirts in the basket and began wringing it out. "You feeling okay?"

No, no I'm not fine, Jack, she wanted to say, someone on this bloody beach had a photograph of my father and I don't know who or why. But she didn't. She forced herself to smile again. "I'm fine, Jack. Everything is great. Really." She said brightly, hoping he would buy it. She knew he wouldn't though, after all, he had come this far and there had to be a reason for it.

Jack nodded "Okay. See, Hurley thought there might be something you were worried about and he asked me to talk to you." Jack explained, "But if you're sure there's nothing wrong…"

"Hurley?" Claire asked, surprised. It took her a moment to recall when she had seen Hurley that day, and then she remembered that she had been rather short with him when he had been trying to help. She wasn't mean… but she hadn't been herself, either. "Oh." She said, suddenly. "I was just thinking about… things. I didn't mean to be short with him. I was just…yeah."

"I see." Jack was quiet for several minutes as he helped with the laundry. Something was bothering Claire, that much was certain. She was flustered and worried. There was nothing wrong with her physically, as far as he could tell by looking at her, but if she was worried about something, it might just be enough to make her sick again. He wouldn't have that, not if he could help it.
"Claire?" he asked softly.

"Yeah?"

"You're gonna rub a hole clean through those jeans if you don't slow down." He pointed out.

Claire looked down at the last pair of jeans that she was cleaning and realized that he was right. She had been rubbing so furiously but hadn't even noticed. She sighed and threw it into the basket. "I guess it's a good thing I'm done with the washing then, isn't it? She asked guiltily.

"Guess so." Jack smiled, letting her know that it wouldn't have been a big deal. "Want me to help you carry this back?"

Claire was about to say no and then she changed her mind. "Jack, what would you say if—? " She stopped and shook her head. She didn't continue.

"If what?" Jack prodded, getting over his surprise at the abrupt change of subject. "What would I say about what, Claire?"

"Never mind." Claire shook her head quickly. "It's nothing, forget about it." She looked up, forcing her eyes to meet Jack's. He looked troubled, and she instantly regretted having said anything. "Help me take this back?" she asked.

"Sure." Jack said, "Come on." He got to his feet and offered her a hand to help her to her own. "What's that?" He asked, indicating to a scrap of paper that had fallen out of Claire's pocket. He stooped down and picked it up.

"It must have fallen out of my pocket." Claire said quietly. "Jack? Jack are you okay?"

Jack's eyes were glued to the photograph. It was one he had carried in his wallet, but he had thought it was lost forever after the plane crashed. He had forgotten about it. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He said, recovering himself quickly as he handed the picture to Claire. "This yours?"

"No." Claire admitted slowly. "I found it outside my tent earlier."

"Oh." Jack said blankly. "Did you know him?"

"I uhm…" Claire paused for a moment.

"He's my dad." They said it at the exact moment. Their eyes locked.

"What?!" Both exclaimed at the same time.

Jack stared. Claire stared. Both were astonished and neither of them knew what to say.

"It's—it's impossible." Claire finally breathed, feeling faint.

"What did he do for a living?" Jack demanded, not believing it himself.

"He was a—a doctor, some kind of a surgeon. And he lived in—"

"Los Angeles." Jack finished for her. It was impossible. But at the same time, it clearly wasn't.

"My God, Jack," Claire exclaimed, "Oh my God, I need to sit down." And she sat right back down in the sand. Her head was light and she thought she might faint. It was so much to take in at once… it was a little worse than when she had found out that she had a father in the first place, one who was alive and well…and who bothered to show up in the first place only because it was convenient.

Jack sat down hard and they were both quiet. The minutes that passed seemed like hours, and they both were wrapped up in their own thoughts and revelations. Jack had lost a father in Australia, but he had gained a sister, too. It was amazing. And then he wondered if Claire knew that their father was dead… she probably didn't. Should he tell her? Of course he should, he scolded himself. This family had kept enough secrets to keep at least a dozen closets full of ghosts and shadows.

Claire hugged her knees close to her chest and stared out into the blue and green hues of the ocean. She was overwhelmed by what she had just learned and the tears came freely as she took it all in. She was not alone in the world after all—not that she had been an hour before, either. She had Aaron, and she had Charlie, but somehow it wasn't quite the same.
Fate had thrown them all together somehow. "Jack" Claire began, having just realized that she didn't know why Jack had been in Sydney in the first place, "Why—"

"Claire" Jack interrupted quickly as he turned to her "There's something else you should know." He had guessed what her question was, and he wanted to answer it before she asked. "He's dead. Dad is dead. That's why I was in Sydney." He explained. "He was out drinking and had a few too many…" His voice trailed off, he had nothing more to say. "I'm so sorry." He was crying now himself, though he struggled to hide it.

A fresh burst of tears came and Claire leaned over and cried into Jack's shoulder. She didn't know what else to do.

"Hey, kiddo" Jack wrapped his arms around her and held her in a hug until she had finished; "Everything is going to be alright. Okay?"

Claire finally nodded. She had stopped crying now, but she remained where she was. "Dad used to call us that." She said suddenly.

"What?"

"Kiddo."

"Oh." Jack was silent for a moment and then he nodded "He did, yes he did."

Claire sat up and wiped the remaining tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, "We should be getting back now." She said, firmly," The tide is coming in."

"Alright," Jack agreed. "Are you sure you're alright though?"

"Yeah, Jack." She said, quite sincerely "I'll be just fine."

She smiled and Jack was satisfied, for the time being. "Well let's get your wash on the line to dry then." He said, helping her up once more. "Something tells me that we've got some catching up to do, Little Sister."

Claire looked up at him, speechless for a second, before she burst out laughing. "I guess we do."