Title: Never Alone
Characters: Claire, Charlie
Summary Claire returns to the real world. Will she be able to finally let go and move on with her life or will her memories of the island continue to haunt her? Written for the prompt of "ghost" on 50darkfics
Original Post Date: 19/02/2007
Disclaimer: Lost and "Never Alone" by Barlow Girl do not belong to me.
The dull roar of at least a hundred people filtered into the corridor and the expectant clicking of cameras had already started. Claire took a half dozen deep breaths as she stood there, Aaron swaddled tightly in her arms. Oceanic officials nodded grim cues to each other as they opened the double doors and the survivors of Flight 815 stepped out into the real world for the first time.
Claire was momentarily blinded by the flashes of what seemed to be every single camera in the world. For a moment she was simply floored, the idea of this many people existing outside of the close knit group she had been a part of till recently seemed inconceivable. And yet here they all were – media and reporters, parents and siblings, lovers and old friends, hundreds upon hundreds of people.
Welcoming them all home.
Somebody nudged her forward but Claire stood shock still, unwilling to step back into the real world just yet. And then his voice was in her ear, murmuring words of encouragement.
"Just ignore the ones with cameras – they're not worth your time. You know where you have to go. You don't have to be scared anymore. You're home."
Claire stepped over the threshold.
The apartment was small and ramshackle – much like its owner. A pile of CD's was stacked untidily on top of a dilapidated old player that had seen better days. There was a dirty glass still sitting in the sink, waiting to be washed, and a half folded load of laundry spilling out of a tattered wicker basket.
She tidied slowly and methodically, pausing only to put a CD on to break the deathly silence. The hidden drug stash was flushed – she wasn't foolish enough to try and re-sell it, no matter how high the price might be.
The whole place seemed to ooze with Charlie's essence. She smiled when she found a half empty jar of peanut butter in the cupboard.
"Not as good as the stuff I got you on the beach that day but it'll do for now right?"
Claire ran her finger along the inside edge of the jar and licked her finger clean. The taste and the memory it instilled brought fond tears to a pair of smiling eyes.
The door swung open and Claire felt very exposed by the piercing quality of the blue eyes that were trained on her. She introduced herself and her cause and the man dubiously let her inside. It wasn't until she first mentioned Charlie that she really hit a nerve.
The man, Liam, gasped at the familiarity of the ring she wore around her neck and listened intently to her story, tears collecting in his eyes.
"He was a good man," she concluded softly. Her voice trembled.
"He was. He turned out the way he did because of me. My God…look where he ended up because of me!"
"With me."
Liam placed a remorseful hand over Claire's own, cold one.
"You were probably the best thing to ever happen to him. Was he happy?"
A sudden smile – rueful and nostalgic.
"Yes. For a time – we were both happy."
A shadow lingered in the corner of the room for a long moment and then disappeared just as suddenly as it had come. Claire watched it go with trepidation. She knew it would be back.
Claire pushed a trolley down the aisle at Woolworths. Somewhere between the frozen meats and the tinned food she became very aware of a man, tall, a stranger, passing her in almost every aisle.
He had dark hair and an easygoing smile on his face - the kind of person who attracted friends and admirers without any trouble at all. Between the soups and sauces, Claire stood right up on her tiptoes and groped at the back of a shelf to reach the brand of kidney beans she liked. As she struggled silently, a hand reached over the top of hers and took the nearest tin, nudging it into her grasp.
Claire turned to thank them and was supremely startled to find a pair of stormy grey eyes greeting her. A blink later however and they had gone green.
"Thanks," she murmured. The man shrugged easily and grinned at her with a flippant, "No worries."
And he was promptly knocked aside by a falling box.
Claire drew a sharp intake of breath as the man laughed it off. She knew that it hadn't been an accident – the message was as plain as day.
"Stay away from my girl or there'll be hell to pay."
The bedroom was soft with the colours of night as Claire lay awake again, thinking too much as usual. How on earth do you let go of someone when neither one of you is really willing to? Someone has to take the lead, to break the connection between them…and yet she's certain that it won't be her.
As much as it hurts her to remember – she doesn't really want to forget.
The ghost of a whisper shivers across her skin and she trembles with grief as she buries her tear-streaked face in the relative comfort of her folded arms.
"Please…please leave me alone. I can't stand it...I can't…"
There is a soft sigh, a displacement of air and suddenly she's alone again.She cries herself to sleep for the last time that night, her child asleep in the cradle next to her bed.