SPOILER ALERT: SEASON 4

Okay, here it is: my tribute to Charlie. I'm so angry at J.J. Abrams, etc...but I guess there's nothing I can do...

Disclaimer: I don't own LOST or any of the characters or places associated with it.

Never Alone

Claire had always been fascinated by sunsets, even before she wound up stranded on a beautiful, if mysterious, tropical island. The fading rays of light illuminated the world differently, as if she were seeing everything for the first time. The colors that splashed across the sky were never the same: sometimes brilliant gold; others a deep purple that faded into soft pink; still others a fiery, passionate orange. Each combination of hues evoked a new combination of feelings, and tonight was no different.

This evening the sky was awash with every color imaginable. The bright shades mixed in with the soft shades, disrupting any sense of a normal pattern and leaving her with a feeling of great confusion.

As her friends drifted past her to return to their activities, Claire stared out at the clouds, silently ordering them to form some sensible arrangement. They didn't obey, of course, but oh, how she wished they would. The day had already been confusing enough.

A hand squeezed Claire's shoulder affectionately, and she looked around to see Kate offer a small, sad smile as she passed. Claire tried to return it, but the muscles around her mouth did not respond. Silently she turned around, away from the multicolored sky, and realized she was alone except for the baby in her arms.

"Hello, love," she whispered softly, kissing his forehead. Aaron gurgled and twisted away. She watched him squirm, and her eyes suddenly fell upon the reminder of why she was there. A rough cross, made of two sticks and a twisted vine, rose up out of the sand.

Claire's breath caught in her throat; she had almost forgotten! No, that wasn't true, it wasn't a question of forgetting or remembering. It was a matter of belief, of acceptance. In the few days that had passed since Charlie's death, she hadn't quite convinced herself that he was gone. She still expected to see him bounding out of the jungle at any moment or striding toward her up the beach, his guitar in tow.

Hurley had finally managed to convince both factions of survivors to set aside their differences for one evening in order to give Charlie a proper memorial service. It seemed that he was dealing with his grief by being perpetually active. Since there was no need to dig a hole for the grave, he settled for fashioning the marker. He and Jack had both spoken nice words at the funeral. They had offered Claire the chance to speak too, but she really didn't know what she would say.

The funeral had been a strange experience, almost as if she were watching herself from afar. She had rocked Aaron gently to keep him quiet, only half-listening to the things that were said. The other half of her consciousness was focused on a fervent, hopeless prayer that Charlie would suddenly appear from out of the trees, alive and healthy and wondering what everyone was doing.

A soft, cool breeze floated across the small graveyard, bringing Claire back to the present. She stared at the wooden cross, willing the tears to come, but they did not. "Charlie, why can't I cry?" she asked aloud. "You're dead, damn it, why can't I cry?"

Aaron squawked and began to wiggle again, and she realized how heavy he had become. Carefully, she sat on the ground and held him in her lap, giving her tired arms a chance to rest. "If you were here, you'd hold him for me, wouldn't you, Charlie?" she mused.

She closed her eyes and sighed, remembering the adoring look on Charlie's face every time he held the baby. "You're so fantastic with him," she murmured.

"You know, when we first met, I thought it was just fascination. I thought maybe you'd never known anyone who was pregnant before. You were always there, checking on me, making sure I was getting enough rest and drinking enough water. At first it seemed kind of weird, the international rock star looking after the poor, single, pregnant girl. Then one day you looked me in the eye and you said, 'You don't scare me,' and I knew you meant it. After that it wasn't so weird anymore, it was just sweet.

"I remember when you wanted me to move to the caves...I didn't want to leave the beach because I didn't want to admit to myself that no one was coming to rescue us. I know how hard you must have tried to find me some peanut butter, and when you pulled out that empty glass jar I could see how much it meant to you that I play along. I couldn't resist your enthusiasm, and in spite of myself, I tasted your invisible peanut butter and followed you to the caves."

Claire opened her eyes and kicked off her flip-flops, feeling the cool sand between her toes. Absently bouncing Aaron in her lap, she imagined Charlie sitting across from her, leaning against the marker for his own grave. He was so happy, sprawled on the ground in his typical jeans and brown T-shirt. The baby giggled as if he could see the goofy faces Charlie was making. When Charlie looked up at Claire, though, his eyes sparkled with a combination of mischief and deep affection. She nearly reached out and brushed a lock of shaggy, blond hair off his forehead.

"It took me a long time to appreciate what I had in you," she admitted. "There were things about you that scared me, like the drugs and those crazy nights when you took Aaron. But more than anything, I was afraid to connect with you, to trust you. I was afraid that you would be like Aaron's father and abandon me the minute things got hard.

"But you didn't, Charlie, you were always there when I needed you. You were the only one that believed I wasn't just having nightmares. When Ethan took us, you tried so hard to protect me, even though he nearly killed you. You were there the night Aaron was born. You were always there during those difficult first days, while I tried to figure out how to be a mother to the baby I hadn't even intended to keep.

"Even when we fought, when you did stupid and crazy things, you were always trying to do what you thought was best for me and Aaron. I know you loved me, Charlie. Even though you never said so, I could hear it in your voice and see it in your eyes." Claire swallowed hard and looked into Charlie's eyes. "I hope you know I love you too. I should have told you before you left with Desmond. I love you, Charlie, and I always will."

She lifted her hand, and he mirrored her, stretching to reach each other. So close, so close, she could feel the energy coming from his fingertips...but there was only air. She blinked, and he was gone, and she was alone again.

Claire's arm dropped to the sandy ground, and suddenly the tears came in a flood. "Why did you go, Charlie?" she shrieked. "Why did you have to play the hero? Why?"

Empty, broken, defeated, she gave into grief at last. She clutched Aaron and rocked back and forth, her tears falling like warm raindrops into his fine hair. "I love you! I need you! I can't do this alone," she sobbed.

Claire cried and cried, more than she ever had before, until it seemed that she had sobbed out her very soul. There were no tears left within her, so she sat in silence, still shaking gently. Aaron shifted in her arms, and she looked down to see that he had fallen asleep, his brow furrowed as if he were deep in thought.

She took a deep breath and looked around. Everything seemed eerily still and quiet. The sun was nearly gone. Twilight had fallen, and only the dark purple color remained in the sky. No birds called from the jungle, no breeze blew across the sandy beach. Even the constant rush of the ocean seemed to fade away. It was as if the island itself were mourning the loss of Charlie Hieronymus Pace.

Suddenly, a warm wind swept in from the water, leaving the trees untouched but fluttering through Claire's hair, ruffling the edge of her T-shirt. It enveloped her, sweet and spicy and familiar, and she breathed deeply. The air filled her up, warming her from the inside out, making her feel full and whole again. In the distance, she could almost hear the gentle strum of a guitar.

"Charlie?" she whispered incredulously, looking wildly around.

He didn't appear in front of her or come strolling out of the trees, but he was there, she could sense it. She closed her eyes and sighed, feeling a warm hand clasped within hers. Strong arms wrapped protectively around her and Aaron, and a calloused fingertip gently traced her delicate jawline. Soft lips brushed her own, a scratchy beard tickling her chin.

"I love you, Charlie," Claire whispered. "I can't see you, but I know you're there." She sighed, feeling happy and safe in the warm embrace. "And I know you'll always be here with me. I miss you so much, but I know you'll never truly be gone."

The wind rushed around her once more, brushing her lips gently, and then it was gone. Claire opened her eyes, realizing it was truly nighttime now. She looked across the beach, where small fires blazed brightly within the camp.

"We should get home," she murmured. She stood slowly, trying not to wake Aaron, and stepped back into her flip-flops. Aaron yawned and squirmed, burying his head deeper in the crook of her elbow. She gently stroked his tiny hand, and he grabbed onto her finger.

"Charlie's still here, you know," Claire whispered to her sleeping son. "He'll always love us and he'll always be here with us."

She cast a final glance at the rough cross in the sand. Then she turned and started back down the beach, still feeling warm and full. Claire knew that things would never be the same: she'd never see his face again, never hear him laughing. But Charlie lived on in her mind and in her heart and in the warms breezes that blew in from the sea. As long as she lived, he would always be with her, and she would never be alone.

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Please leave me a review!! This was pretty difficult for me to write, and I'd love to know what you think.

--A Chocolate Frog