Something I wrote awhile ago and thought I'd share here.
Disclaimer: For entertainment purposes only, I own nothing.
Pairing: Claire/Jack/Sawyer
Rating: M- For mature content, sexual content and incest.
A groaning, dying engine drowns out the sharp ringing in her ears, the frantic cries for help from those left broken and bleeding among the plane's wreckage. The thick smell and taste of burning ash takes her breath, blurring the rest in a foggy haze.
She's pulled to safety, and at last she feels of solid ground beneath her trembling feet. The hand on her shoulder is steady, his words full of confidence when he tells her she's going to be alright. And for several long moments she can't hear him, feeling as though she's looking down upon herself from a distance.
She clutches a thin airline issued blanket around herself and wills the stressed induced contractions to ease, praying the baby won't come today of all days. Instead she tries to concentrate on the gentle heat of the sun's rays against her skin, the crystal blue waves lapping lazily against powder thin sand.
Inch by inch the sun sinks low on the horizon and disappears into the ocean, replaced by a night sky flooded with stars and pale moonlight, and gradually the gripping panic from earlier eases into worn out exhaustion. She settles in with the other survivors among the glow of makeshift camp fires scattered along the beach. Nothing to do now but wait.
He's comes to her again, and offers his jacket and his name, Jack. She senses it then, the honest concern beneath the professional bed side manner she supposes must have been years in the making. There's something soothing in his presence, something warm in his eyes.
She smiles a weak smile, and says, "I'm Claire." And for that moment her fear eases just a bit more, because she may be stranded on this remote island, but she's not alone.
-x-
Time on the island drifts along, like a leaf wandering in a restless stream. Day by day they learn to scrape by in this far off corner of the world, salvaging what food and water and supplies they can, forging bonds that only survivors can know.
Jack becomes their reluctant leader, strong and determined, and always willing to take so much upon himself. Their eyes catch sometimes as they go about making a temporary home in the shelter of the caves, and she sees the dark circles under his eyes, the worry lines creased there. Survival here has taken its toll on all of them, but for him she knows it's more, because taking care of others is so engrained in who he is.
One morning the circles under his eyes are darker, more pronounced, and she tells him she's worried for him. He answers with a rare smile, and says he's more worried about her. She doesn't have to ask why; they all give her the same sympathetic looks, concerned for her and the baby she carries.
Not long after Claire becomes a reluctant mother to a son, and it's not at all how it was supposed to be. Instead of a sterile hospital with a comfortable delivery bed and an adoptive family waiting, she gives birth on a bed of jungle foliage, with the help of the only doctor on the island. It's a difficult delivery, with blood and pain and tears, her screams lost in the open sky above. And he's there through it all, offering what help he can given their limited resources.
In the days that follow he looks over her, her and the newborn cradled in her arms. With a serious tone she attributes to the doctor in him, he tells her what she already suspects; she and Aaron were lucky to have survived. The delivery was too much for her body, most likely causing permanent damage. In time she'll heal, but Aaron may be the only child she'll ever have, and the thought makes her hold her son a little tighter.
He stays to ask about her day, confides in her about his, sharing his worries and laughter with her. For whatever reason he can talk to her, ease his mind's concerns if only for a little while. And it's the same for her; she's more open with him than any of the others. Maybe it's because he's essentially saved her life twice now. Maybe it's the shared sense of relief they seem to find in one another.
Whatever it is, there's an ease she feels as he settles next to her to share the comfortable warmth of the camp fire, the flicker of light reflected in his eyes, the pressure of his hand resting against hers. Here there's a calm here she can't find anywhere else on this island. And in these moments she relaxes her hand into his, and thinks to herself this is more than just survival.
-x-
Their eyes find one another a little too often; their fleeting touches too heated to be casually dismissed. Claire recognizes it in the way his eyes brush over her, and it lights a fire in her she hasn't felt since before the thin blue line of her pregnancy test. She knows it's just a matter of time before one of them falters, and it's like standing on the edge of a precipice waiting.
It happens late one heated evening, when she takes a moment for herself while Aaron is sleeping and in Sun's care. In a nearby stream under the canopy of palm leaves she finds a secluded spot, strips out of her clothes and dips her head beneath the rush of cool water.
She doesn't feel his presence until a shadow falls over her, and at first she thinks its Sawyer; he's been trying like hell to get her alone the last few days. She idly entertains the idea of what that might be like, Sawyer's not a simple man, but he might be simple to be with. Not all consuming the way she feels for Jack.
Jack. She looks up to find his dark eyes on her, and feels both relief and panic in equal parts. There's something in his expression, stricken like he's the one who's been caught bathing nude, and it draw's her in. She takes a step forward revealing more of herself from the water, trembling slightly as droplets fall from her skin.
She feels it when his resolve crumbles, the unusual calm in the moments right before a storm breaks. He walks fully clothed into the water, pulls her into his arms and brings her lips to his. He lays her down along the water's edge, settles his body over hers as she runs a hand beneath his drenched shirt, inching the fabric up and over his head. Skin damp to the touch, riddled with goose bumps, and fevered where their bodies meet. He brings her to the edge twice before it's over, once rushed and frantic with his wet denim chafing against her thighs, and once again with skin against skin, deep and lasting.
-x-
They continue on with not so accidental meetings on the edge of the jungle where it's just the two of them, hiding away in there own safe haven for a few stolen moments. But it's a small island, and impossible to hide any secrets. Soon enough they think nothing of it when his hand finds hers, innocent reassuring touches in the presence of the others.
When he's not off doctoring or devising some rescue plan, he's there making Aaron a crib out of bamboo and long grass, or teaching her to fish with a makeshift fishing pole like he'd been taught by his father. She learns to share him with his responsibilities, and learns how to distract him when he's worn himself too thin.
One evening she lures him to a remote beach, with a picnic of mango fruit and fish she caught earlier. They end up at the waters edge again, her on top this time as she takes him inside, near drunk with the feel of him, the sight of him lying blissful among a blanket of stars reflected in the waves surging underneath.
He stays with her most nights, and she finds it doesn't matter if they are the new topic of gossip, it's a harmless enough. But late at night as they lay nestled together with limbs intertwined, Aaron's contented sleepy sighs nearby, harmless is the last thing she feels.
One night out in the jungle Claire chases the ghost of a silver haired man, a man she recognizes from an old photo reverently tucked away in her mother's nightstand. And when he tells her that he is her father, and she has a brother, she knows that it's the truth because something within her clicks into place, like it's been waiting to be realized all along.
She can't bring herself to tell Jack, because she can't bring herself to look him in the eye. When she looks at him she still feels the longing between them, now twisted into something wrong. The guilt of it steals the words from her mouth, and she resolves to bear it on her own, for the both of them.
So she does the one thing she knows will force him from her, and say what she can't make herself with words. She goes to Jack's rival, to Jack's secret desire, and asks Sawyer to help her drive a wedge between them. She's not oblivious to the way Jack looks at him, or the way Sawyer looks back –always watching and never acknowledging.
That night while Jack waits for her, she goes to Sawyer instead. He's more than willing; she knows it when his blue eyes darken and look past her to lock with Jack's, and silently pulls her inside his tent. Against the makeshift bed Sawyer marks her, stains her skin with bruising kisses and demanding fingertips, just as she'd hoped and feared. She answers with her own marks, her nails drawing red trails down his back as he presses against her, inside her. It's rough and desperate, and they make sure it's just loud enough for Jack to hear.
The morning after on the beach Jack won't look at her; withdrawing to the caves without a word. The pain in his eyes stings more than she expected, twisting the guilt inside just that much deeper. But it's better than the truth; that is her only consolation.
She stays with Sawyer after that. He reads to Aaron in his smooth southern accent, teaches her how to shoot a rifle, and every night it's just the two of them, seeking in each other the one person they silently conspired to drive away. Jack is there between them, his name always on the tip of their tongues.
-x-
It's a small island, and Claire knows she can't hide from Jack forever, but she does her best to try. One evening there's a flash storm, and with Aaron wrapped in a warm blanket she has no choice but to follow the others from the beach to the shelter of the caves, crossing over into Jack's territory.
Her son cradled in her arms, she watches the rainfall from the cave's entrance, biding her time. When he finally comes to her she knows something has changed for him, it's there in the hunch of his shoulders, weighed down by the same knowledge she's carried since that night their father found her.
"He's found you too, our father," she observes. "He told you."
He answers with a slight nod, and counters with his own question. "Why didn't you tell me?"
She almost tells him, wants to scream, 'Because I wanted to spare you all of this.' But then she remembers that small part inside that really just wanted to hide, and protect herself from the truth she sees in his eyes.
So instead she keeps silent as they sit side by side, looking out from the cave's entrance to watch the rain fall, waiting for the storm to pass.
-x-
Sawyer disappears for hours on end, and she knows exactly where he is because Jack mysteriously disappears as well. And it doesn't bother Claire in the least. She supposes it should, sharing Sawyer with her half brother. But she couldn't begrudge Jack an ounce of happiness before, and she can't bring herself to want to now. Besides, it's as close as she may ever be to Jack again, and despite herself she seeks traces of his scent on Sawyer's skin when he returns to her.
Sometimes she lets herself wonder if Jack has the same sort of thoughts, if that's part of what draws him to Sawyer. Part of her hopes so.
Sawyer has never been one for pretenses, she knows it's a fundamental truth of who he is. Cons maybe, but not pretenses. So she's not surprised when Sawyer finally tells her, whispers his secret desires into her ear, late at night as she lies beside him, Aaron fast asleep in his crib nearby. "You, me, an' Jack, what you both at the same time."
In Sawyer's mind she and Jack are merely jilted lovers, he sees no reason why not. And part of her wants to give in and say yes, because right now he is so open and vulnerable and it stirs something within her. And to say she doesn't share the same weakness for Jack would be a blatant lie, despite all the rest that hasn't changed. She knows Jack shares the same weakness for her as well as Sawyer, it would be so easy for them just to give in, pretend it would be alright if they just let it be.
But then she remembers Jack's haunted expression the day of the storm, her own pains of guilt remembering their nights together, and it makes Sawyer's words sound so wrong in her ears.
"It's a lovely dream, Sawyer," she says by way of an answer, encouraging his fantasies when it's just the two of them hidden away in their tent. But she also needs to make it known that it's just that, a fantasy, a dream to be evaporated in the bright reality of morning sunlight.
-x-
When their rescue is at hand, Sawyer talks about staying and making a life on the island, says there's nothing for him to go back to. He asks Claire to stay with him, for him, and she thinks maybe she might. Back home she doesn't have much waiting for her either, the father she never knew is dead; her mother in a coma and close enough. She doesn't have much else in the way of family, besides Jack. And that will never be right, their feelings still so tangled between them.
She can almost see it, her and Aaron and Sawyer settling in a little ocean side shack in this far corner of the world.
In the end the choice is made for her. On the night before their rescue her father appears again, leading her into the jungle and away from the others. He tells her this is the way it is suppose to be, Aaron is meant to leave the island, but for now she is meant to stay. It's another hard truth she accepts from him, and just like before his words unlock some understanding within her.
She stays with Christian after that; follows him as she struggles to make sense of her own mind. He tells her he wants to take care of her, to be the father and protector he should've been for her growing up. It's all of the things she's ached to hear since she was a little girl; and the words echo in her thoughts.
One night Sawyer finds her alone in some long abandoned cabin, and she has no idea how long it's been or how she even got there. He's with a few of the other's who have chosen to stay on the island, or were left behind. But not Jack, and not Aaron, they're gone with the rest of the survivors.
Gradually she comes around, the endless loop of her father's words finally fades into the background. Now it's Sawyer who takes care of her, holding her close in his arms through the night, and she starts to feel more herself. She learns to live with the ache of Aaron's absence, and Jack's, because that's what people do, they find a way carry on. And it helps that she's with the one person who can understand, Sawyer who shares the loss with her.
They make a life together on the island. And year after year after year, she starts to give up hope that there will be anyone to come back for them.
-x-
Another plane falls from the sky, and Claire watches as it sinks lower and lower on the horizon, abruptly closing three years and thousands of miles of separation.
Jack emerges from the wreckage with the others in search of their lost loved ones, lovers, friends, and families at long last reunited. Three years has aged him, with traces of crows feet around his soulful eyes, and a bit of silver in his dark hair. And she knows he sees the same in her, as he runs a hand over her sun bleached hair and sun drenched skin. And when he finally takes her in his arms, she feels still more changes within in him. The haunted expression she remembers is gone, replaced with something closer to a bone weary surrender. It makes her think she's not the only one who's been lost in their years apart.
"I never should have left the island," he tells her, tightening his arms around her. She feels his next words against her lips as they brush over hers, "or you."
But his return to the island is about more than reunions. He talks about fate, about what he is meant to do, and he sets out for the jungle again in search of the elusive protector of the island. Hurly stays behind to watch over the others, while she and Sawyer follow Jack. Of course they do, there are no questions or second thoughts.
They make their way through the green foliage and rocky terrain of the jungle, and along the way Jack talks about his life in Los Angeles, about how nothing has felt right for him since he's left. He tells her about the drinking, the pills, the breakdown, and the nightmares calling him back. She answers with her own nightmares, of their father telling her she was meant to leave her son behind. She still can't make out if it was a memory or some trick of her madness.
He tells her about Aaron, stories of his growing up with his adoptive mother Kate. She takes in every detail, favorite stories, favorite songs, favorite stuffed bear, and it both fills her heart and breaks it at the same time. Soon, he says, it will be time for her to go back and care for him, be Aaron's mother. Part of her clings to that, she's missed so much already. But not right now, she knows looking between Jack and Sawyer, not yet.
Days go by as they make their way deeper the jungle, surviving test after test of Jack's mission for the island. One humid afternoon she refills her canteen in a clear stream, and idly wonders how long it's been. She's long ago lost any sense of time, in this place where days of the week and months of the year have no meaning. Maybe it's the isolation, or maybe it's her madness playing tricks with her thoughts again, but it starts to feel as though the world beyond the island has faded from existence.
Their nights are just as isolated, but not lonely as one by one they shed past hurts and guilt, carelessly discarded on the path they leave behind. Enshrouded in the radiance of a camp fire and full moon, Jack takes from her without remorse, kissing and clinging and writhing as Sawyer watches on. And inevitably they draw him in, their long silent witness and conspirator.
Sometimes she is content to watch, Jack and Sawyer, her two men she likes to think of them. Sawyer's blonde strands clutched in between Jack's fingers, his erection slipping past those full parted lips with sweet contented sighs. Or Jack's long legs wrapped around Sawyer's waist, reverently taking him inside.
Other times she can't stay away. Jack beneath her, her thighs on either side of his as Sawyer guides her from behind, working a hand between her legs and bestowing her like an offering. Their bodies finally connected, moving with the same intimate rhythm.
And afterwards lying breathless and nestled between them both, she thinks despite all the pain and guilt and separation they've suffered, it all finally brought them here- together.
Jack says as much, late one night as the camp fire slowly fades into darkness. He holds her close, Sawyer resting beside them as he traces a finger over the black symbols and bright colors on Jack's arm, drifting to where their bodies meet. "We are where we're supposed to be now."
When Jack talks like that, it reminds her of just how much time has past between them. He never used to believe like that, before it was always about what he could see with his eyes, and touch with his hands. Now, he has returned to her a man of faith, blindly following traces of his destiny, like breadcrumbs leading him back home.
-x-
It's almost the end, Claire feels it just as she did in the days before the last rescue. They find Jacob, or at least his ghost, and Jack takes it upon himself to replace him as the island's protector. Of course he does, it's always been who he is down at his core, sacrificing himself for the greater good.
The ground shifts beneath them, with a heavy down pore of rain that turns day into night, and it's now or never. That last time she has no tears left, as lays herself open and gives voice to everything she's ever held back with blood tinted kisses, possessive needy touches. Soaked clothes are striped as they seek out the warmth of each other's skin, damp and stained with streaks of mud. Their bodies cling to one another on the jungle floor, and with every thrust of their coupling she welcomes the heat branding her, searing her skin and memories.
She and Sawyer follow as far as they can, but in the end they are meant to travel another path. The earth finally gives way, a growing fissure dividing them, her and Sawyer on one side, and Jack on the other. Sawyer pulls her to safety, and all they can do is watch when Jack leaves them behind- for them.
She's been on this islands long enough to understand the pull of fate, and she knows it's out of their hands. She's meant to return to her son, right the wrong she made by leaving him in the first place. And for Jack this is righting his wrong, he is meant to face down the islands demons, even to his end.
When rescue finds them again, she and Sawyer don't loose sight of each other, their hands and fingers clasped tight together, and this time it's Jack who stays behind.
-x-
Back in the world, she and Sawyer pick up the pieces and start again. They wander up and down the west coast, reacquainting themselves with the pretenses and intricacies of civilization. They never leave site of the ocean, Claire often catches him looking out onto the vast blue horizon where the sky and sea meet. He's remembering the same memories, looking to closing the same distance in his mind.
After a few months they settle in a remote village south of the border, the quiet and simplicity is comfortably familiar, they both silently agree. She helps Sawyer fix up a shack on a cliff overlooking the ocean; they patch up a few holes on the roof, nail down a few loose floor boards, add a little yellow paint to the walls. In their bedroom she paints a bright red sunset, inspired by the view from the window.
She's long known that Sawyer's not a simple man; though it turns out he is simple to be with, just not in the casual and uncomplicated way she had dismissed early on. At times he's silent, brooding for days on end. And cruel, when he's desperate. His words don't always say what he means, but in their years together she's learned to read between the lines. He lives in the moment, and calls her out when her thoughts stray too much into her darkness, lost in her own grief and loss. There's something in his presence, combined with the memories of the person they both share, and it's as close to home as they can find.
She finally feels ready to send for Aaron, and Kate's tears as she returns her son brings tears to her own eyes. She feels for Kate's loss, because it used to be hers. But it can't be helped, she knows it when she remembers Jack's words to her that night. "We are where we're supposed to be now."
Late one night she's lured from Sawyer's sleeping embrace by another ghost. A candle clutched in her hand, she follows him, down the steps cut into the cliff leading to an empty beach, faint moonlight dancing in the black waves. Jack's there wearing white, striking against the night, complimenting the fair skin she knows so intimately.
He returns to her after that, in quiet and fleeting moments. Sometimes she wakes in the early morning to the feel of soft lips pressed against her closed eyelids. Claire, whispered against her skin, lightly brushing the way he used to in their nights together.
Other times in the dead of night while she and Sawyer make love, she feels him in the room with them. Foreheads pressed against one another, her legs straddling his, joining and melding their bodies deep, desperate for release. She shutters when a hand caresses where their sweat soaked skin meet, calls his name when his dark eyes finds hers over Sawyer's shoulder. Sawyer shifts and drives into her harder, faster, and she knows he feels it too, very much aware of the same familiar body reaching for them.
She doesn't care if it's another trick of her madness returned, however Jack has returned to her she's not about to question it. She'll cherish it; cling to it for as long as it lasts, her little miracle.
End