Title: Waiting
Rating: G
Summary: Raised By Another. Very spec'y
Status of Fic: Completed
Disclaimer: Characters and anything to do with show are not mine. Merely my words on paper, or rather, this computer screen.
Author's Notes: I have no idea what the point of this is. I was listening to a depressing song and, since there was no Claire in the most recent episode, I decided to write a depressing fic about our wittle Hobbit.

Trembling hands. Quivering lip. Chattering teeth. A shaky, dazed stare. The music continued on.

The full moon glowed bright and illuminated the areas on the beach that the fire from the campsites didn't reach.

A sad, lonely figure was alone, out of the firelight's reach, off in the distance. Alone with his guitar, perched atop a dirty boulder, he licked the tips of his fingers, ignoring the sour taste of the saltwater and dirt on his tongue as he did so.

It wasn't where he was supposed to be. By the water, where the sounds of the waves crashing onto the sand, the reef and the smell of brine teasing his senses, was the last place he should be.

Memories. Too many of them. Not that anywhere else on the island would be better suited for him. Everywhere was the same. Everywhere he remembered. Everywhere he felt.

Pain. Nothing but pain. All the memories, flowing back into his mind. Not that they ever really left.

"So here I am…" he sung to himself, running his hands along the strings in a small, poignant tune. "Bitter and forlorn…"

They were words to a melody. One no one heard other than himself. A disquieting song that haunted his dreams and persistently remained in his mind. "Here I am…woke up bitter and…forlorn."

"You're not here…" he continued to half sing, half choke out. "Waiting for you."

All the words were out of order. Actually, there was no real order. He sung them, cried them in whatever way he could find. "Save me…I won't sleep until…save me."

For a moment everything froze, his lungs seizing and breath escaped him. A whisper from behind him, in the deep, dark jungle that he had lost everything in, startled him, brought his sad tune to a halt.

Eyes widened. The beating of his heart ceased. Gripping the guitar, knuckles stark white and the muscles in his forearm straining under the pressure of his grip, he spun around.

A whisper. A voice. A familiar voice calling out to him. Asking him something. What it was he couldn't quite figure out. What struck him was that the voice was hers.

Hers.

Something he hadn't heard in weeks. Decades in island time.

"C-Claire?" he spoke her name in a weak stutter, barely even managing to utter the name. Silence. Nothing came but silence. He drowned in it and he couldn't quite imagine feeling anything else.

She was gone. And was not ever coming back. Yet he still waited. Sadly, yes, but patiently even so.

Through the days and the nights he waited. Continued waiting. No matter what, no matter where, he'd be waiting.

Trembling hands. Quivering lip. Chattering teeth. A shaky, dazed stare. The music continued on.