Title: His Way.
Reviews: Always responded to and loved.
Rating: M for strong language, references to drug taking and possible violence.
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Hello there! This is my first lost story; it's a Charlie centric story about his struggle through withdrawal. This is post "The Moth" as that is all I have watched up to. (I have just been introduced to the TV show Lost so I'm still only on the first season.) The flashbacks in this are my own made up ones since I don't know what happens after The Moth. Enjoy! Read and Review. I appreciate constructive criticism with all my stories as it helps me improve as a writer.
Charlie sat near the fire sweating. He felt terrible; the withdrawal was certainly getting worse. He thought he should move away from the fire because he was sweating so much but his limbs ached and he felt so tired. Also, he knew if he moved away from the fire he would then get cold sweats. Jack was sat next to him reading a book and occasionally glancing over towards him.
Jack snapped his book shut and gave Charlie a sidelong glance. "You wanna take a walk Charlie?"
Charlie shook his head slowly, painfully. Great, now I have a headache, bloody drugs, he thought. "I get up," he paused, struggling to talk through the confusion he was feeling. So far life without drugs was proving very depressing and most un-fun indeed. Jack looked at him expectantly. "I'll fall straight back down on my arse again," Charlie pointed out. "Probably ending up face down in my own vomit," he said frowning. He had vomited quite a lot already and didn't feel any better, also, he didn't like been sick in-front of people.
Jack chuckled. "Okay," he replied, grabbing a nearby bottle of water and taking a swig. He offered it to Charlie.
Charlie waved him off as another bout of nausea hit him full force. "Crap."
Jack touched his shoulder gently. "What?"
Charlie pulled his hood further up till it was over his sweaty forehead. "I feel like crap," he mumbled.
Jack put the bottle of water to the side. "It'll get better Charlie," he assured him.
Charlie groaned weakly and fell backwards as spasms wracked his thin frame.
"Whoa," Jack said, grabbing Charlie gently and laying him down on the ground. He then got a blanket and laid it over the young man.
"How's he doin?" a concerned voice asked from behind Jack. It was John Locke.
Jack stood up and shielded Charlie from view. He wasn't about to give Charlie's secret away. "Hurley tell you?" he asked, remembering the lie he told Hurley about Charlie's flu. Well, heroin withdrawal was like really bad flu.
Charlie held his stomach as the cramps got worse. "He knows Jack," Charlie muttered shakily, motioning Locke forward weakly with his arm.
Locke knelt down next to Charlie. "You're doin' well Charlie," he said, patting him on the shoulder. "Don't give up."
"Gee, thanks dad," Charlie replied sarcastically before he suddenly felt the intense urge to puke. "Bag," Charlie demanded quickly as he sat up.
Jack grabbed the bag hurriedly and gave it to Charlie; it was one of the standard aeroplane sick bags that everyone hated. Charlie turned his head away from Jack and Locke and vomited into the bag, he hadn't been able to stomach any food so it hurt a lot when he puked. After he had finished his throat felt sore and he was sweating more then ever, except now they were cold sweats so he moved even closer to the fire.
Jack offered him some water and this time he gulped it down as Locke looked on concerned.
Locke sat next to Charlie even though Charlie refused to look his way, he was too embarrassed. "When your better, maybe I can teach you how to catch some boar."
Jack gave a small smile and walked away to talk to Kate.
"Cheers, but I'm not really the hunting type," Charlie said groggily as his eyes struggled to stay open. "Or the anything type."
Locke noticed how worn out Charlie looked and got up to leave. "I'll let you sleep."
Charlie's eyes snapped up desperately. "Don't go," he pleaded and then realized how desperate he sounded. "I mean, I won't be-able to sleep."
Locke smiled and sat down again. "How'd you get into drugs Charlie?" Locke asked, intrigued.
Charlie shrugged through the pain. "Came with the territory," he answered. "And my brother Liam, he was a drug addict…" he trailed off, not really liking where the conversation was heading. He hated discussing his past.
Locke nodded. Charlie caught his look and he snapped. He had seen that look so many times before. "I know what you're thinking. Oh Charlie, he came from a family of junkies, it ain't like that man. I had a nice mum, religious and…"
Locke interrupted. "I'm not thinking anything Charlie."
Charlie's eyed him warily. "Oh so I'm paranoid now! Yeah, blame it on the drugs," He hissed angrily. "You pretend you don't judge me but you do, they all do, they always have."
Locke was shocked by Charlie's sudden change. "Calm down Charlie."
Charlie struggled up and nearly fell down again before Locke grabbed hold of his arm, holding him steady. "Let go Locke, I'm fine."
"You're not fine, you need to lie down."
Charlie pulled away from Locke and managed to stand up on his own. "I'm off for a walk," he replied, walking towards the jungle.
Locke started to follow him before Charlie stopped him. "Alone."
Locke looked at him for a moment before he turned around and walked away.
Charlie staggered through the dark jungle, not quite knowing where he was going but knowing he needed to get away from the camp. He came to a tree stump and sat down, his hands were shaking uncontrollably now and his arms felt heavy. He stared at the words written on his fingers and wondered if it really was fate that brought him to the island, if it was fate he met John Locke and ended up throwing his drugs away.
HIS drugs…He needed them so much now and longed to snort the poisonous powder that gave him such a buzz, to spread it over his gums and taste the sweetness of it in his mouth. If he had his heroin he wouldn't be feeling like this, he would still have his dignity, he wouldn't be slobbering and drooling all over the place, falling over, vomiting everywhere… If there was a hell, this was it he decided.
No, I don't need them, he thought angrily, trying to push the negative thoughts to the back of his head.
Don't kid yourself mate, a voice in his head said to him. You're nothing without your drugs, useless…
Useless, something Charlie Pace had felt all his life and still felt on the island; he had always wished he was more like his brother Liam, the brave confident one who everyone liked and respected. He was always too shy to talk to girls, even when Driveshaft became big and girls were begging him to bed them, he had always worried what God would think and how he should never give into temptation. Temptation was a bad thing.
The serpent and the apple, Charlie thought.
After Liam had started using heroin Driveshaft had more or less fallen apart, Liam was always high and would just stagger onto stage and not be-able to sing properly. It was a huge mess and Charlie hated it. Charlie had always loved music; he was inspired by the Kinks and The Ramones and really thought that the whole point they had put the band together in the first place was because of the music but it seemed Liam just wanted money and women and didn't give a damn about anything else…Including his baby brother.
Charlie picked at his chipped nail polish as his hands shook and he rocked back on forth on the tree stump, trying to take his mind off how much he really wanted his drugs back.
Idiot, why did you throw them in the fire? He thought miserably as he stared into the darkness of the jungle.
Flashback
"So Charlie boy, you all famous now yeah?" his old school friend Tony said ruffling his hair affectionately. Driveshaft were famous now and their new album was doing relatively well in the charts so Charlie and Liam had come to visit their local pub in Manchester for a few beer's with their old friends Tony and Cathy.
"Yep," Charlie replied, grinning at his friend. He was so happy. He was living his dream, at last.
"Ya buyin' then?" Tony asked grinning back as they approached the bar.
Charlie smiled. "Sure. Four beers please Shelly."
The woman at the bar gasped and held a hand to her mouth dramatically. "Oh my god!" she squealed. "If it ain't Charlie Pace!"
Charlie smiled again as his cheeks flushed pink. "Hey Shelly," he replied, giving a small wave.
Shelly was an amazing woman to look at, she looked like she had just been ripped out of the 70s. She had shoulder length peroxide blonde hair, striking blue eyes and full red lips painted with the reddest of red lipsticks. Shelly was in her early 40's and had six children by six different men, she had known Charlie all his life and had always had a soft spot for the young rocker so when she heard Driveshaft on the radio she had been so pleased for him.
Shelly started pouring the beers. "So how's Manchester's finest?"
"I'm really," he paused then glanced up at her, his eyes flashing excitedly. "Happy."
Shelly gave him the beers. "I'm really pleased for you Charlie. You deserve it."
Tony leaned over and patted Charlie on the back. "Charlie Pace. Rock God," he said laughing.
Charlie laughed back and shoved Tony away playfully. "Yeah, you better bloody remember it mate," he said as he shoved his hand in his pocket and brought out a wad of cash.
Shelly waved him off. "It's on the house."
Charlie said thanks and him and Tony walked over to sit down in the far corner of the pub.
"So, where's Sid Vicious?" Tony quipped, referring to Liam.
Charlie checked his watch. "He was practicing for the concert tonight, said he'd meet us here. He should be here by now," Charlie replied, frowning as he scanned the pub for his brother.
Tony shrugged casually and took a sip of his beer, looking at Liam's untouched beer and grinning. He then looked at Charlie who was busy staring at the door, waiting for his brother and clicked his finger's in-front of his face to get his attention. "Mate?"
Charlie turned his head back round. "Yeah?"
Tony grinned broadly. "Betcha can't do one louder than this can ya now," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye as he let out the loudest burp Charlie had ever heard.
It attracted the attention of Shelly who just shook her head at the two, amused.
"Man, that's sick!" Charlie exclaimed, wafting a hand in-front of his noise. "It smells too."
Tony winked. "Reminds ya of the good ole day's aye? Me, you, Liam and Cathy."
Charlie smiled, remembering how they would come to this same pub every night and see who could do the loudest burp, the loudest fart and have drinking games that would last for hours. He missed those times but now he was living his dream, wasn't that more important?
"Cathy still in toilet?" Charlie inquired.
Tony shrugged. "Suppose," he then grinned, "don't wanna know what she's doin'."
"I'm gonna go see if she's alright. She's been in ages," Charlie said, getting up and moving towards the toilet.
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Right. She is a woman mate," he called after him.
The Pace's local pub was small and only had two toilets for both gender's so it wasn't like Charlie was about to walk into a ladies toilet.
He knocked on the toilet door. "Cathy? You alright?"
He got no reply. "Cathy?"
Charlie took a few deep breaths and pushed against the door but it didn't budge, not only was it locked but it felt like something was blocking it inside.
"Tony!" Charlie screamed, panicking.
"Cathy," Charlie gasped as someone shook him awake. He didn't realize he had fallen asleep, fallen asleep in the middle of the jungle at that. As he opened his eyes he was met with the image of Jack. He was looking down at him with concerned eyes.
"Charlie?"
Charlie coughed harshly. "Jack. Wha…What you doin' here?" he stammered, confused.
Jack touched his forehead. "I came looking for you. You're burning up."
Charlie batted his hand away. "I'm fine," he insisted, moving to try and stand.
Jack grabbed hold of him again. "Charlie stop!" he said firmly, holding onto his arm as he stood up. "I'm trying to help you."
Charlie sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve before trying to push Jack's arm away again. "I don't need any help, I can do this by myself!" he said, coughing again. "I'm not completely useless y'know?"
Jack sighed and reluctantly let go of the young rocker. "I know you're not useless. You rescued me from that cave remember?"
Charlie nodded and stared at his shoes, not meeting Jack's eyes.
Jack heaved another sigh and looked down at the smaller man, his eyes filled with what looked to Charlie like pity. "What were you doing running off into the jungle like that Charlie, at night?"
Charlie rubbed his arm; it felt so heavy and brought his hood down, running a hand through his greasy hair. "Well, I, I dunno, wanted to get away from everyone I guess," he stammered anxiously, really wanting to get away from Jack and be alone again. He was sick of Jack's questioning and pity.
Jack didn't question him further about his nightly adventures, he knew Charlie was having a hard time and wasn't thinking straight. "Who's Cathy?"
Charlie looked visibly uncomfortable, his hand stopped rubbing his arm and his expression darkened. "How do you know about her?" he demanded angrily, advancing on Jack.
Jack put his hands up and took a step back. "You said her name when I woke you."
"Oh," Charlie said softly, embarrassed by his outburst. "She was my friend."
Jack smirked, trying to lighten the mood. "Just friend?"
Charlie's eyes snapped up to look into Jack's, his expression grave. "She's dead."
"Call 999, ambulance" Charlie shouted to Tony as he kicked at the door hard, it still wouldn't budge.
Tony ran for the phone as people in the pub moved to find out what all the commotion was about. Shelly ran forward towards Charlie.
"We gotta get this door open," Charlie demanded, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he looked to the crowd of people who had formed around him and the door.
"Let me," a tall butch man said, striding forward. The man kicked the door hard and Charlie heard a snap as the lock broke.
Charlie ran to push the door but the big man stopped him in his tracks and gently pushed the door himself, something was blocking it…Someone was blocking it.
"Cathy?" Charlie called, desperation creeping into his voice as he stared anxiously at the door.
The big man shoved the door harder and he managed to get in, Charlie heard whatever was blocking the door 'roll over' when the door was shoved. Charlie followed the man through the door and gasped at what he saw.
Cathy was sprawled across the floor of the toilet, skin pale and sweaty, eyes wide and unresponsive. A used needle was dangling out of her stick thin arm.
Charlie felt sick and stared wide eyed at the scene before him. He knelt down next to Cathy and moved her into recovery position; he then started trying to do CPR. He started doing chest compressions but there was nothing.
"C'mon Cathy, please," he pleaded as he pushed down on her chest again. The rest of the pub looked on desperately. Shelly stood nearby anxiously rubbing at her neck.
Tears formed in his eyes as he kept trying. "You can't die Cathy, you can't."
"Where's the ambulance?" Charlie screamed at Tony who was stood behind him, tears were streaming down his face now as he stared into the dead eyes of his friend.
Tony had been stood in complete silence since he had called the ambulance, his legs felt heavy and he felt like he couldn't move. "They're coming," he said in an almost whisper. "They, uh, they said they'd be here in ten minutes."
Charlie wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and continued trying to breathe into her mouth until Shelly walked forward and grabbed hold of his hand, stopping him before he started to press against her chest again. "Charlie. She's gone," Shelly said gently.
Charlie stopped the CPR and stared down at Cathy's body, his eyes travelled down to the needle still sticking out of her arm. He gently removed the needle and threw it aside angrily. He then pulled Cathy up and hugged her tightly, crying into her shoulder as the paramedics arrived.
"I'm sorry," Jack said apologetically, he noticed Charlie's sad expression and changed the subject. "Let's get back to the caves; I need to check you over."
Charlie stared up at Jack, his eyes red and exhausted his skin pale. His hands shook as he spoke. "It wasn't your fault, I killed her," he answered; his voice strangely hollow as he moved past Jack and walked away back towards the caves.
Charlie isn't capable of murder, Jack thought, mulling over what Charlie had said.
Jack followed his friend, concern written all over his face. He realized Charlie must have had a tortured past but hoped the musician could get past that and perhaps start over on the island.
To be continued…
What do you think? R & R.
