Title: The Secret Keeper
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: Season two. Charlie has hatch duty guarding Benry, an event that leads to an important personal turning point.
Characters: Charlie, Ben, Locke, Sawyer, Sayid
Word Count: 5,968
A/N: Falafelfiction gets credit for some great suggestions that made this fic a whole lot better.
Disclaimer: All in good fun I assure you. No money has changed hands.
Not too many people trusted Charlie these days, apart from Sayid. After the fire he had set on the beach, Charlie didn't think his Iraqi friend would ever lower himself to speak to him again, but a few days later he took pity on him. Charlie was doing nothing but moping on an isolated part of the beach when Sayid finally came over and asked him to help with a building project. They were building a table and storage area for food and communal supplies. Actually Sayid was; Charlie realized soon after he got started that he wasn't exactly Sayid's first choice, it was just that no one else had seemed interested. But that was good enough for Charlie because he preferred working alone and he was eager to do anything to earn back the trust of the camp. He worked on the construction with care, considering it a peace offering.
He was still avoiding Claire and most everyone else. He had barely spoken a few words to the new people so it was the longest conversation he had had with Ana Lucia when she came over one day with a map to their prisoner Henry Gale's balloon.
It felt odd keeping prisoners, but it was an odd island. They were too often being pursued and attacked by the Others so when one of them practically walked into their midst – or rather, Rousseau's trap – they had no option but to hold him in the armory until they could get some answers out of him. He gave his name up willingly – too willingly – which was Sayid's first clue that Henry Gale was not his name.
The clincher was the grave. And it was Charlie that had found it.
Sayid not only trusted Charlie enough to build with, he included him on Ana Lucia's hunt for Henry's hot air balloon and the grave of his dead wife. Charlie was happy to go -- although unsure what he would contribute alongside these two Ninjas -- but as always he was eager.
And to increase his odds of being useful, he brought along his gun.
Charlie wasn't sure if that had been a mistake or not because Ana ended up spotting it and within seconds he was handing it over – to Sayid. Charlie still found the fake out amusing, since Ana Lucia had been on his case the entire trek, grumbling over his inclusion. Charlie was just waiting for her to call him unstable or worse, a junkie, and female or not he would have let her have it. The only problem was he wasn't sure who would have come out on top so it was just as well that it never reached that point.
His final act of I'll show you was when he had found the grave. Not Ana, not Sayid. They had both been ready to pack it in after searching for three hours in the sodding rain when Charlie yelled out, "Over here!" Sure enough, the crude burial site with the balloon caught in the trees above it like a canopy had proved to be their "Henry Gale's" undoing – it was poor Henry himself who lay in that grave.
Armed with knowledge -- and a very smug Charlie -- they returned.
Although they had quite a story to tell, it turned out that they had also missed quite a lot of excitement. In their absence a large supply of food seemed to drop out of the sky and their prisoner was out of his cell giving aid to an injured Locke. Before Locke and his new friend could pick out china patterns together Sayid burst in to reveal the truth like Sherlock Holmes in the final act.
Charlie watched all this with detached interest. No one had spoken to him, asked him his version of events even though he was the one that found the grave. He wanted to shout it so they'd all know, but he knew that would be stupid. Now that he was back everyone would probably expect him to go crawl back under a rock or something.
After a few minutes of gazing around the room it appeared to him that Sayid had the situation in hand. The Iraqi threw the now frightened man back in his cell. Now Sayid along with the camp leaders of Jack, Kate, Locke and Ana were all huddled in a circle, conferring on something in hushed voices. It felt like his cue to leave. Charlie was about to turn and head off when Sayid called his name.
"Charlie, will you stay and guard the prisoner?" he asked.
Charlie felt self conscious as all eyes were on him. Most looked pretty uncertain, and he wondered what Sayid had promised them for what had to be a personal favour.
"Why me?" he asked.
"Jack and Kate are going to investigate the food pallet. Ana Lucia and I need to let the camp know that we have a prisoner. Locke will stay and push the button but he is in no condition to guard."
Locke. The man Charlie held responsible for the complete and total breakdown of his relationship with Claire, the man who had humiliated Charlie in front of the entire camp. Charlie still despised him. He glanced over at Locke, who was sitting on the couch with his broken leg elevated, avoiding Charlie's stare. At least he can't come at me like that, he thought. He didn't want to be alone with the wanker, but Charlie was still on a quest to prove himself. Having now scored some points with the grave, Charlie wanted to capitalize on his gain by showing his worth here as well, even if it meant spending hours alone with John Locke.
"Okay," Charlie said. "Just stay by the door and help him if he needs anything. Nothing to it right?"
Jack, Kate and Ana Lucia walked out, none of them looking particularly assured but willing to give Charlie a shot. Sayid sauntered out last with a confident grin in Charlie's direction. When the others were completely out of earshot and Locke had been transferred to the computer room with a set of crutches, Charlie grabbed Sayid and held him back.
"Sayid," he said in a whisper only his friend could hear, "how about you give me my gun back?"
Sayid's smile only grew wider. He looked positively amused.
"I tell you what Charlie," he said, "you promise not to ask for it back, and I promise not to ask you where you got it."
Sayid looked at Charlie with an expression that made him nervous. He knows. He can't know everything but he knows something. Maybe taking a gun on that trek wasn't such a good idea after all. Sayid was too bloody clever. Then again, he thought, he knows and yet for some reason he still trusts me.
Charlie relented. He would be daft to force the issue against an opponent like this. "Fair enough, but how am I supposed to take guard duty without a sodding weapon?"
"Locke has a gun," said Sayid casually as he turned to leave. "If you run into problems, he's in the next room."
Charlie scowled. Sure, trust the nutter with the four hundred knives to handle the guns.
When he was gone Charlie went over to the living room, put a record on of some band he'd never heard of and flopped down on the couch. This wasn't so bad at all, he thought as he put his feet up, comfortable at least. Should be dead easy.
It was only after about two hours when the prisoner started banging on the door that Charlie realized he didn't have the combination to the lock. Charlie wondered whether they had just forgotten to tell him, or if it was one more thing they didn't trust him with.
"Hey," the voice called, "Is anybody out there? You haven't fed me since this morning. How about something to eat?"
Charlie listened to the request through the door and then went to the kitchen to put together a plate of something. He found some fruit on the counter and a box of biscuits. When he was ready and standing at the door he knew that he had no choice but to get Locke.
Calling into the computer room from where he stood, he yelled, "Hey Locke, how do I open this thing?"
He did it knowing full well that Locke wasn't going to shout the combination from across the hatch, so Charlie smiled with malicious glee when he saw Locke hobble painfully into the room, and head for the door. Charlie watched as Locke spun the numbers, memorizing them.
"Do you need me to wait?" Locke asked him, as he pulled the latch and swung the door.
"No, I think I got it covered," Charlie replied, entering the small dark cell with the plate.
He didn't see him at first; the man was sitting quietly on the bench, huddled in the corner. Charlie wondered what his real name was, and why he lied about who he was. All at once he felt anger towards him, remembering Ethan, who was quite likely this man's friend.
"How does it feel, being treated like an animal?" Charlie taunted as he left the plate and took up the empty one.
"Because if you're wondering why you're here," he continued, "it was because we wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine."
Charlie watched for some reaction, but the man sat there as if he hadn't heard. Feeling emboldened, he leaned in and got right in his face and said, "And it's only because we're merciful, that we don't hang your sorry arse in a tree."
Just then the prisoner shot out in a flash, and using the short slack of rope between his wrists swung his hands around Charlie's neck and pulled tight. Charlie was so surprised he failed to react, giving the man the opportunity to shift his weight and throw him face down to the ground. Pinning him there, the man pulled harder on the rope as Charlie choked.
At the same time he whispered in his ear, "You're alive but Ethan is dead. That makes you the murderer Charlie."
Charlie clawed at the rope, seconds from blacking out when there was a rush of relief like a stiff wind as Locke returned to the cell and bashed the prisoner across the head with his crutch, taking the pressure off his throat. The relief didn't last long because the man's arms were still attached to the rope that was around Charlie's neck and he landed heavily, unconscious on top of him. It took a moment of untangling for Locke to separate the two of them as Charlie lay gasping and coughing on the floor. When he was free he dragged himself up, stumbled out and collapsed on the couch.
"Are you okay Charlie?" asked Locke as he came out of the cell and shut the door behind him.
He knew he should have been appreciative, but Charlie wasn't ready to have those kinds of feelings towards John Locke just yet. So catching his breath, he snarled in a hoarse whisper, "I don't need you to protect me. And anyway I'm surprised you didn't take the opportunity to throw one of your trademark sucker punches at me while I was down, or did you bruise your knuckles too badly the last time?"
Locke looked at him for a moment with a completely blank expression. Then he turned and went back to the computer room without a word.
When he finally stopped shaking, Charlie went to the washroom and checked himself out in the mirror. His fingers crept to his neck, touching lightly and grimacing; a band of red stood out across his throat and his skin burned with heat. He leaned over the sink and splashed himself with cold water. It had taken weeks last time for his bruises and welts to fade and he hoped this time there would be no marks. Anything tight around his neck these days caused an immediate panic response that Charlie didn't think he would ever get over.
If he was angry at their prisoner before, it had been largely guilt by association. Now it was personal.
Charlie knew he would eventually have to go back in there but he planned to keep his distance when he did. He put some more music on and eventually fell asleep on the couch. He was awoken some time later by the familiar knocking from the other side of the door.
"Charlie?" the prisoner called.
He opened his eyes, frowned at the locked door and tried to fall back asleep.
The man called out again, "Charlie, I want to say I'm sorry."
Charlie responded, eyes still closed, "There, you've said it."
"Can I talk to you please?" he said. "I promise I won't do anything. I just want to talk."
It certainly wasn't good sense that told him to do it, so Charlie figured it had to have been old fashioned curiosity. He had never understood why they had received such treatment at the hands of the Others; and a part of Charlie was hungry for answers, something that would explain such cruelty. It was this need to know that drove him, if not to trust this man, but to open the door and hear what he had to say.
Charlie pushed himself off the couch with a heavy sigh, spun the combination and opened the door. Leaning against the threshold with one hand on the door, he stared daggers at the man seated at the far end of the cell.
"You've got one minute to say what you have to say," Charlie told him.
He nodded. "I heard what you said to Locke. He spends quite a bit of time here and I… hear things, and there are some things you should know."
Charlie crossed his arms in front of his chest. "What?"
The man looked pained as he said it, as though it bothered him to be the bearer of such news, but Charlie wasn't buying the act.
"Claire is afraid of you," he said. "I heard Locke say he would never let you get anywhere near Claire or Aaron again."
It was a laugh, this guy claiming that Claire was afraid of him, when Charlie knew it was this man and his people that she feared most. Still, the thought that he may have frightened Claire that night on the beach, resulting in Locke becoming her new bodyguard, was something Charlie had worked hard to put out of his mind.
"That's fascinating but this is really none of your business," Charlie said. "Was that all?"
"No, there's more," he said. "I know where the heroin is being kept and I could help you get it. Sawyer didn't get it all -- Jack kept some behind for medicinal purposes."
At this revelation Charlie had to laugh out loud. He shook his head, "Is that the best you've got? It just shows how much you know about me. I don't want it."
The man shrugged, unconcerned. "I know that's what you tell everybody else. You may even say that to yourself sometimes. But I know there are other times – times when you do want it and you hate yourself for it."
Charlie's smile froze and he tried to not show his reaction. Clearly the man was just grasping at straws; he couldn't possibly know something like that without getting in Charlie's head. No one knew how he really handled his recovery – he never told anyone.
"You're wrong," Charlie declared.
"Am I?" he responded. "Are you telling me there isn't a part of you that still craves it, at the same time you worry that you may not be worthy of Claire's love after all?"
"Shut up," Charlie said.
He didn't want to hear any more. Charlie reached for the door and was about to close it when the man said, "I understand that part of you Charlie, the side no one else understands. What's more I know how much you hate Locke. You hate him so much you'd attack an innocent woman to humiliate him."
This time, Charlie couldn't hide his surprise. He stopped cold and stared at this strange man trussed up in their armory who seemed to know far too much. He couldn't imagine how he could possibly know about his con with Sawyer -- unless he was out there in the garden on that day. Charlie remembered that he had been captured by Rousseau only a day later not far from their camp. Things suddenly became very complicated.
"So, I admit I may not be your favorite person but maybe we can still help each other," the man suggested.
Charlie collected himself again, speaking casually with a confidence he didn't feel, "Tell anyone you want. No one would ever believe you."
"Would they believe you?" he countered, smiling. "I wouldn't brag sonny, but between you and me, you're only about half a step up on the totem pole right now."
Charlie scowled at the notion that he was probably right. Apart from Sawyer, he was the lowest person in camp, so much so that he was surprised that they had even given him this job, but by doing so they were offering him a chance. What would they think if Charlie were to take that opportunity and abuse it?
"The real problem is I lose either way," Charlie explained. "If you escape under my watch they'll never trust me again anyway. No matter really, you're off your head if you think I'd help you. All other arguments aside, your bastard mate tried to kill me. You don't deserve any better."
He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, as if considering Charlie's words, then spoke like he came to a decision.
"Yeah, you're right, let's just forget the whole thing," he said. "Someone who attacks pregnant women doesn't deserve mercy."
The next thing Charlie knew the man was calling out for Locke.
"Locke! Hey Locke!"
Charlie jumped. "What the hell are you doing?"
"It's time to test your theory as to who they'll believe," he explained. "Locke!"
"Shut up!" yelled Charlie, stealing glances over his shoulder, heart thumping madly. He almost had the door shut when Locke appeared in the doorway of the living room.
"What's going on?" Locke asked.
"Nothing," said Charlie, blocking the entrance. "Everything's fine."
Locke stared at Charlie for a moment, unconvinced, and then stole a peek over Charlie's shoulder into the cell to where the man sat, watching them both.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I've got it," Charlie insisted. "He just wanted some water. I'm not completely useless you know."
Locke glared at Charlie but turned and went back to his precious computer.
Charlie spun back towards the prisoner and said, "Did you see how he looked at me? They're going to think I can't handle any responsibility!"
"I sympathize, Charlie, I really do," he replied, "but you're just going to have to decide what you care about more – your reputation or your future with Claire and Aaron."
Charlie stood in silence, cornered. He didn't know how to respond. Clearly the bastard was trying to blackmail him but what could he do about it? He couldn't afford to have his attack on Sun be known, not if he ever wanted to have a chance with Claire again.
He must have sensed he was making inroads because the man softened his tone and said, "You made a mistake. I get that. But you deserve a second chance, don't you? I can give that to you."
He needed to think, that was it. He had to buy some time. But for now Charlie had to say something to ensure the man's complicity.
"Fine, I'll help you, but I don't want the heroin, all I want is for you to keep your mouth shut."
Charlie locked the cell again and stood outside the door for a moment, shell-shocked. What the hell had just happened? One minute the guy was offering an apology for trying to strangle him and the next he had him in a completely different kind of chokehold.
He sank back down onto the couch and dropped his head in his hands, trying to think this through logically. The way he saw it he now had two choices; he could ignore the threats and hope for the best or he could act to insure the man's silence.
Charlie quickly decided that to do nothing would be the riskiest option. All the man needed to do was tell Jack or Locke what he likely saw in the jungle and it would all be over for Charlie. The most he could hope for under that scenario would be a quick, painless death at the hands of Jin, and apart from the unpleasantness of his passing, Charlie loathed the idea of giving Locke that kind of satisfaction. No, he concluded, there could be no good outcome if this git decided to talk; which, unfortunately, he had every incentive to, since his current treatment was partly due to the fact that he was being held responsible for Sun's attack. The bastard could clear his name and ruin Charlie's in one masterful stroke.
The other option was to give in to his demands and help him escape. After what he and Claire had gone through, Charlie could never have imagined that he'd one day be helping these lunatics. It would be the ultimate act of betrayal to Claire and one more secret to add to his burdens, one he knew he couldn't live with. Just that thought alone was enough to settle it for him, and that was not to mention the fact that he'd never be trusted with responsibility again. No matter what the circumstances, he'd feel like a screw-up in everyone's eyes for letting this Other get away. Charlie knew some people already thought that of him since he had shot Ethan before he could be questioned. So Charlie concluded that cutting a deal wasn't an option either.
That left a third option – some other as yet unknown course of action that would guarantee the man wouldn't talk, or at the very least, that he wouldn't be believed. Charlie knew that to accomplish this he needed help -- the help of someone he could confide in, who had almost as much to lose as he did. There was only one person that fit that description.
He needed Sawyer.
There was no reason for Charlie to suffer through this alone. Sawyer had been his unlikely ally in the power play that had unfortunately involved Sun. Charlie tried to imagine what Sawyer would do in this situation. He didn't know for sure but he knew that Sawyer wouldn't stand for it. He had proven himself to be a kind of criminal mastermind in Charlie's eyes. Sawyer would know just what to do.
Charlie rose from the couch, feeling better. As luck would have it, when he peeked into the computer room he found Locke asleep at the console. He slipped away from the hatch and made for the beach.
It was early morning and it appeared to Charlie that the food drop had already been plundered, since people were milling around chatting happily with armfuls of boxes and tins. Sawyer must have been first in line, since Charlie found him sitting comfortably outside his tent digging into a box of cereal.
"Sawyer," Charlie said, greeting him.
"Hey half-pint," said Sawyer.
Charlie rolled his eyes and pressed on, "I need a favor."
Sawyer laughed. "Do I look generous to you?"
Charlie crouched down, lowering his voice. "It's about the prisoner in the hatch and our little gun grab. He says he knows, Sawyer."
"Says he knows what?" he asked.
"Everything," said Charlie, looking over his shoulder to make sure there was no one nearby, "about you, me… and Sun. He's threatening to tell Locke unless I help him escape."
Sawyer tossed back some cereal and shrugged. "Well hell Sid, everyone already knows it was my con. Why should I care?"
Charlie fought to keep the desperation out of his voice, "You may not care what people think of you but I do! I told you Sun can never find out about this. And Claire… she'll never forgive me. Don't I deserve a second chance? You have to help me."
"I don't have to do nothin'."
Sawyer finished his cereal, tossed the box aside and picked up a book. He began to read, thoroughly ignoring his former partner.
Charlie was undeterred, "You don't really want Jin finding out whose idea it was to attack his wife do you? You say you don't care but I don't believe that. What if Kate knew? And you owe me."
At that Sawyer glanced up. Charlie was counting on the fact that Sawyer knew that had it not been for Charlie's help Sawyer would never have gotten hold of the guns and medicines. Not only that, but despite his bravado Charlie knew that Sawyer didn't want the full extent of his con made known any more than Charlie did. He cared more about what Kate thought of him than he let on.
He tossed his book back inside his tent with a sigh and stood, "All right, let's do this."
Sawyer laid out the details of the plan as they walked. Charlie was impressed with his ability to improvise on the fly. By the time they made it to the hatch, Charlie knew just what would happen. When they entered, Locke was still in his chair struggling to stay awake and push the button, which was perfect. Charlie retired to the couch as Sawyer approached Locke.
"Wake up Droopy," said Sawyer nudging Locke, "I'm here to relieve you. The Doc sent me, says he wants you to rest up."
Locke looked at Sawyer, confused for a moment, and then pushed himself up on his crutches, too tired to argue.
"Is Charlie still here?" Locke asked.
"Yeah, we're good, now go lie down," he told him.
They waited until Locke was asleep in the bunk bed and then Sawyer closed the bedroom door and left the hatch. When he was gone Charlie went to the armory and opened the door.
"Okay, it's all set," Charlie told him, coming closer and untying his hands. "I got rid of Locke and now you can get out of here, but you better run. I don't want to see your face anywhere near this camp again."
The prisoner stood, rubbed his wrists and tested his freedom by taking careful steps towards the door, never turning his back on Charlie. When he was certain Charlie wasn't going to do anything he picked up his step and made for the exit. He spied the jungle outside and started to sprint but before he could make it a hand reached out and grabbed him by the shirt, throwing him up against the outer hatch wall.
Sawyer was in immediate control with two swift punches and an iron grip on his throat – Charlie's suggestion – making sure that he was paying attention when Sawyer spoke.
"You just made yourself a little escape attempt Mr. Other," he said. "Congratulations. That means I get to stop you. Of course it would be just like you to resist, so that also means it's gonna get ugly."
"We had a deal," the man croaked. "If you do anything to me I'll tell everyone what I know."
Sawyer smiled but his eyes were ice cold. "I don't think so. Once your bruised and battered ass is back in that cell I reckon you won't be saying much because you're gonna come off as pretty desperate, and no one's gonna want to hear what you have to say. So here's a suggestion, whatever it is you think you know you best just forget it."
Either this Other didn't know when he was beat or he felt he had nothing to lose, because he looked straight at Sawyer without a dose of fear and said, "I didn't know Charlie had a goon squad."
Sawyer's smile dropped, "I ain't nobody's goon."
When Sawyer reemerged with their fugitive hanging off his shoulder Charlie was shocked. He was beaten badly, looking as though Sawyer had taken out every frustration he had since childhood on the man's face. Charlie ran forward and grabbed his other arm and together they tossed him back in the cell and locked the door.
"He won't be giving you any more trouble," said Sawyer, rubbing his knuckles.
Charlie smiled, elated. "This was perfect! Now that it looks like we caught him escaping I'll come off looking like a hero rather than a screw up."
"Yeah, about that," said Sawyer, wincing. "There's one more thing we gotta do. In order for the con to work it has to look like the guy overpowered you to escape, so you should look like he took a swing at you."
Charlie stared, his floating feeling of joy dissipating into thin air.
"You're gonna hit me aren't you?" he said.
At least Sawyer didn't seem happy about it. "No one in the camp trusts either one of us so we have to be convincing. They still might consider you a screw-up but that's better than being a traitor, isn't it?"
Charlie knew he was right, but he didn't have to like it. He felt himself flinching already.
"Aw bloody hell," he complained. "I just got my stitches out."
"Sorry, Chuck," said Sawyer and he threw one good solid punch, sending Charlie to the floor with an aching jaw and a bloody lip.
"Thanks," Charlie muttered, wiping his lip, "I hope it leaves a mark. I'd hate for you to have to do that again."
Sawyer reached down and gave Charlie a hand up, and then slapped him on the back.
"Enjoy your clean slate," he said, and left.
But Charlie didn't feel like he had a clean slate -- not yet anyway. After Sawyer left he returned to the living room, paced the floors for a bit full of nervous energy until he finally sat down, nursing his aching jaw. His problems were solved, then why was it that he felt worse than he did before? Perhaps because there was a man in the cell far worse off than he was right now and it was because of him. He didn't feel sympathy for their prisoner exactly – he was certain the man wasn't an innocent – but what Charlie just did to protect himself didn't sit right with him. When did he become the mafia?
His life was on a one way spiraling path to a dark, fiery hell. The ironic thing was he imagined Sawyer had strolled out of the hatch, and returned to his tent and his cereal box completely guilt free. Charlie didn't know whether he preferred to be that way or not. Guilt felt horrible, but to have no remorse? It struck him as particularly sinful; Charlie feared that if he kept this up he would get there eventually -- hardened like Sawyer, with a heart buried so deep he'd never find it again, and no one else could ever touch it. He already felt like he had been hating so long he was forgetting how to love.
He was raised a Catholic and he knew the way out of this mess. He had tried to earn his way back into the camp's good graces by proving his worth but he would never be fully redeemed until he repented in earnest. That meant confession and seeking the forgiveness of those he'd hurt. Charlie took out a pen and paper and made a list.
The first person on that list was Claire. He'd lied to her about the drugs after keeping them a secret from her for weeks and then scared her to death by taking Aaron in the middle of the night, not once but twice. It was just what the Others had tried to do and Danielle had actually done. Why was he any better than they? He may have been sleepwalking the first time, he may have had good intentions the second, but that wasn't good enough. The others most certainly believed in their own twisted way that they were doing the right thing too. It made no difference to the victim, and he saw that now.
His defensive side kicked in, telling him that Claire should have trusted him, that she was his friend and should have understood, but Charlie didn't want to rationalize his way out of his own responsibility. Claire may not have been perfect but it had been Charlie that had started it all. If he had simply left the heroin behind none of this would have happened. He felt as though he was being punished for giving in to his own impulses and addictive urges; in all honesty, he couldn't put the blame on Claire. She had been protecting Aaron and Charlie would have expected nothing less.
He went on. He probably owed an apology to the entire camp for setting that fire. After Claire kicked him out and Locke refused to listen about his strange dreams, Charlie had been so out of it that he didn't realize the extent of the danger he had placed everyone in. There had been no excuse for that, and while he went off on his baby stealing baptism mission he left the rest of the camp to douse the flames at their own risk. It was sheer luck no one had been seriously hurt.
Charlie thought of Sayid's building project and liked the idea of creating something to replace the destruction he had caused. He had noticed Eko marking trees at the time and decided if he was building something, Charlie would offer to help.
The last one was the hardest. He needed Sun's forgiveness, but how would he ever get it? He had used her to extract his petty revenge on Locke and she had gotten injured in the bargain. After what he just went through to keep his attack on Sun a secret, it seemed absurd and almost wasteful to confess. He might have just done that to begin with but until now he couldn't even imagine such a thing. He still feared Jin's wrath but he would have to take his chances if he ever wanted to be able to look Sun in the eye again without paroxysms of guilt. Until now, he had just avoided her but he knew he couldn't keep that up forever, the camp was too small and Claire and Sun were friends.
And if Sun told Claire?
Well, Charlie decided, he'd have to take his chances with that too, though truthfully that worried him more than Jin's fists. But if he was ever going to truly deserve her, he needed to own up completely.
As he was finishing his list he heard a sound and looked up. Sayid had come in and was walking towards him.
"Charlie," he began, "I came to see how you were doing here…" then he stopped, studying Charlie's split lip and grew concerned. "What happened?"
Charlie thought of his original plan. He was supposed to describe the prisoner's sneaky escape attempt and Charlie's heroic recapture that would earn him the respect of the camp.
Instead he said, "Nothing. He got a bit feisty earlier but that's all over with now."
Sayid nodded, waiting for what seemed like more. Charlie was sitting very still, staring around Sayid's feet.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Sayid asked him.
"Actually, no. I… I need to talk to you," he began.
THE END