By Heart - (five times Claire hears a heartbeat and the one time she doesn't)
1
When Claire is three years old, she learns to stop asking Mummy when Daddy will visit and bring her another toy. Either Carole doesn't answer the little sprite of a child or she will shout out some haphazard response, staying angry the rest of the day. So instead, on the days she misses Daddy the most, when it feels like he's been gone for ages, Claire waits. She pretends not to watch and wait for him to come back (Carole will notice), but some days she can't help but press her tiny nose to the front window. She waits for a strange car to glide into their driveway (it's always a different car) and for her Daddy to step out, his black suit fresh and crisp.
"Claire, come away from that window," Mummy calls. Breakfast and lunch and dinner are forgotten, left cold and untouched. The little girl waits all day, crying when night slowly creeps in turning the sky pink. She cries all through bath time and not because of the soap that sneaks into her eyes or the tangles in her hair. She cries and cries as Carole tucks her into her pink sheets, covers pulled up tightly. And then, just before Carole is unable to look at Claire's swollen red eyes any longer, fingers pausing underneath the light switch, Daddy walks in with a brand new baby doll tucked under his arm. He smiles wide and she squeals, pushing back her covers and rushing past Carole into his outstretched arms. He tucks her back in and sings her to sleep, promising peanut butter pancakes in the morning. Claire's eyes flutter closed and she hears his heart beating steadily.
His heart, her heart; they have the same beat.
2
Claire is twenty years old and she is madly in love with Thomas. His hair, his eyes, and the way he runs to his sketchpad the second inspiration strikes. There's something about living with an artist that's so thrilling. It's almost as if anything can happen at any moment.
One day, he wants to paint her. She doesn't know how she feels about this but he gets this wild gleam in his eye and there is no way she can refuse him.
She stands in a black sheet underneath a hot bright light and waits, not minding having nothing to do at all but watch. He grinds his teeth every so often as he concentrates – his jaw clenching. His brow his creased, but his blue eyes are bright and very much alive. She watches him because she loves him. He's the only thing left in her life now.
After an hour he throws his arms into the sky and races across the wooden floor of their flat. His excitement is nearly palpable. Dragging her over to his canvas, he shows her his work and she smiles modestly. The work is beautiful, too beautiful to be her. But this is the moment she knows he loves her just as much as she loves him. Dropping the black sheet, she stands before him and kisses him hard. He takes her up in his arms, slowly carrying her to their bed. He still has paint on his hands and it marks her, making her cheeks as blue as her eyes, her collarbone as yellow as her hair. She undresses him slowly, memorizing his body and the way he lays against the sheets of their bed. In her twenty years, Claire has never loved anyone as much as she loves Thomas.
When she lies on his chest afterward, ear pressed between his ribs, she hears his heart rapidly beating – pounding strongly and steadily.
"I love you."
This is Claire's first love, but not her last.
3
Thomas is late. Not just five minutes, but closer to twenty minutes late now. Claire sits impatiently in the waiting room, her hands resting on the small curve of her belly, her lips pressed together tightly with anger. He said he would be here!
But he doesn't show. Claire waits a half hour before a nurse ushers her into an exam room, sonogram machine at ready. Anger coursing through her veins, Claire rushes into one of those thin, paper gowns and settles onto the table. She's still fighting back frustrated tears when her doctor comes in and slides clear gunk across her belly. He asks her if she wants to hear the baby's heartbeat. Despite Thomas not being there, she nods eagerly.
For the first time, Claire's baby's heartbeat fills the small white room. She bursts into a smile and her tears finally leak from her eyes.
4
The day before Charlie leaves her, Claire presses her ear against his chest. He asks her what she is doing but she doesn't answer. She wants to memorize his beat and the way it matches the rushing tide of the ocean. As long as there's the ocean, she'll never forget what he sounds like. She's aware that there is an inevitable and that it is coming. It is with this thought that tears cascade down her cheeks and spill into his shirt. He tilts her head up and kisses her lightly, but it only makes her cry harder.
He will be gone tomorrow and she will be cursed to hear his heartbeat the rest of her life; pounding, pounding it's rhythmic beat in her head while he is dead and gone.
5
The house explodes. She's doing laundry and the next thing she knows, Sawyer is lifting her into his arms and running her through a sea of bullets. Though her head is tightly pressed against his torso, she can't hear his heartbeat.
It is later, when she groggily sits up in a random bed where she presses her own hand to her own chest. She feels dead inside and out, but there's that strong beat against the flesh of her warm hand. It beats strongly and proudly. She isn't so sure how it's possible, but she is alive.
1
No one stops Claire when she takes a knife to Kate's throat. Not Sawyer, not Sayid, and not whoever that is in Locke's body. They all watch as she flings her body against the taller brunette, knife at ready. When the blood puddles around the two women, Claire can't even see it. Her eyes are electric and wild, filled with anger and hatred. This is how far she has come.
Kate's eyes become unfocused before long and Claire haphazardly drops the knife. Calmly and coolly, Claire lowers her head down to Kate's chest. She waits and she listens.
There is no sound. No heartbeat. No breath. Nothing.
It is then when she begins to scream.