Title: Mau Loa
Author: Indian Summer
Pairing: General, a little Charlie/Claire, and some blink-or-you-miss-it Ethan/Claire.
Summary: All he wanted to do with save Claire from the others. He was willing to pay with his life, and he did.
Rating: PG-13
Chapter 1/2
Disclaimer: I don't own "Lost." ABC, JJ Abrams, Damon Lindelof, and some others do. This is a work of fiction, and while feedback is appreciated, I'm not 'gaining' anything from writing this. So please don't sue.
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Before the crash, he had been a photographer, world-renowned and greatly respected within his craft. He'd descended into drink in his early thirties, though, when life stopped inspiring him. Quickly he'd discovered that an alcohol-induced haze was remarkably similar to some of the photos he'd taken as a teen, when he'd first discovered aperture and set it as low as possible for a portfolio for his high school art class.
The teacher had said his final project 'lacked focus,' and it had made Nate laugh.
Nate. That's what he'd called himself then, just Nate. His last name, Rohmsberger, was distinctly foreign, and he hated his father for it.
By the time he graduated high school, Nate had sold eight photographs to National Geographic, to accompany an article on the Australian outback.
Cocky and self-assured, the epitome of an eighteen-year old male, Nate had decided college wasn't for him, as there was nothing new a stale old classroom and an equally aged professor could teach him about his passion.
So instead, he'd boarded a plane for Malawi, Africa, intent on capturing the atmosphere of a rustic safari.
It was the fourth day, though, that his batteries started to die and he'd forgotten a spare set. Desperate, he continued to shoot away, trying to keep the camera as steady as possible as touring jeep bumped along an unmarked path.
The set ended up washed out looking, though, blurry and almost golden. He'd kept them anyway.
There was something about that days that comforted him even now, on this godforsaken island that was so engrained into his mind, his heart, his soul- he wouldn't need film to capture its essence.
His dreams reminded him of his early experiments with aperture, bright yet hazy and unfocused. Their eyes haunted his dreams, black and beady, slit with anger and something- something else. He wasn't sure what it was.
The eyes were surrounded by a haze, much like a gaussian blur, of deformity. He couldn't pinpoint it, but there was something off, some proportion, some shape.
His imagination was probably much worse than the actuality of the creatures, but when he shut his eyes at night, that was what he saw. And it drove him mad.
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He'd heard the first whispers weeks earlier, and they'd frightened him. He'd thought, at first, that they were what that crazy French woman had gone on about, and for days he'd worried he'd become infected.
Then, something struck him. Those voices- he wasn't supposed to have heard them. He'd lost track of where he was, for the first time in a while, probably due to the drug cocktail running through his veins thanks to the French woman. He wasn't supposed to be there when the voices were.
From then on, he cherished this new information, analyzing it and re-analyzing it, tearing apart the words and reordering the letters, anything to get the advantage.
Because what the voices had said- what they were planning on doing- it was too horrible. He resolved not to let it happen.
So he'd snuck back into the midst of the new arrivals, infiltrating their camps and gaining trust. He hoped to learn more about them, learn which one they were targeting.
It hadn't take long to realize they wanted Claire. Small and girly, vulnerable yet cheerful, Claire was exactly what they'd be looking for. And, heavily pregnant, it was- what was that saying? Two for the price of one.
The first time he'd approached her, he'd done so hesitantly. She'd seen him coming and looked up from her journal and smiled, a genuine smile that made it all the way to her eyes. It had been a long time since he'd seen one of those.
"Hey," she greeted, holding out a hand. "I don't think we've met. I'm Claire."
He stared at her hand, confused. It had been so long...
Claire raised an eyebrow, letting her hand drop to her side. "What's your name?"
He blinked slowly. He couldn't tell her his given name- she might recognize it. He didn't know how long it had been. As a child, he'd simply dropped the 'sberger off his last name, but that wouldn't do any good. His mind worked quickly, rearranging the letters in his name to create an alias, something he'd remember. "Ethan," he murmured slowly, "Ethan Rom."
Claire bit her lip and stared at him, and he wondered if he'd said something wrong. Slowly, she nodded. "Nice to meet you, Ethan Rom."
Ethan nodded, his reason for coming over to her suddenly clear in his mind again. "Listen, I need to talk to you."
"Shoot."
Ethan's eyes widened. Shoot? "No." Off of Claire's confused look, he added hastily, "No, I just... I'm worried about you."
Claire sighed, patting her round stomach. "Everyone seems to be lately. I told Jack and Charlie earlier, I'm fine. I was just a little lightheaded, and dehydrated."
Ethan pursed his lips, confused. "No. Not that. Claire, you have to stay safe. You- the baby- you're in grave danger."
Her expression darkened, and she leaned forward, awkwardly jumping to her feet. "I've heard plenty of that. And you know what? The last person to tell me something like that? He was wrong," Claire huffed, storming past him.
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That night, he considered his name. He'd been blessed with an eidetic memory, so he knew Ethan meant either 'firm' or 'gift of the island.' He could be both of those, he supposed. Or at least he could hope to.
He watched Claire closely, making note of everyone who came to visit her. The blonde man in particular stood out to Ethan, and from Claire's comment earlier, he supposed it was Charlie. Charlie hovered over Claire, never more than a step or two away from her.
It seemed intimidating to Ethan.
He watched them through narrowed eyes, overanalyzing everything they did. Claire's laugh often seemed forced, and Charlie's voice went from soft to demanding within a matter of seconds.
Charlie looked at Claire strangely, Ethan noticed. It had been a long time since he'd interacted with people aside from the French lady, and with her, the interaction was minimal. He couldn't place that look in Charlie's eyes when Claire smiled, or when she slept, or when she wrote in that book of hers.
He didn't like it though. He didn't like that Charlie's expression changed when Claire was at her most vulnerable, or that Charlie moved his stuff so that it was next to Claire's. And he certainly didn't like the way Charlie lingered over her as she slept.
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With each passing day, Ethan's mission became more urgent. He knew they were organizing, training, preparing- and he wasn't sure exactly what for. He knew it involved Claire, and most likely her baby, but the greatest threat is that unknown.
So he did the same. He organized, he trained, he prepared. He started hunting with the bald man- Locke, his name was. And he approached it with a newfound passion, learning as much about tracking as possible. He'd have to cover his own, when the time came. He couldn't let them find her.
Soon, his abilities surpassed Locke's. He could hear, smell, taste an approaching boar, and every fiber in his body prepared for the attack. One time, when Locke appeared suddenly behind him, Ethan leaped at him, knocking him down to the ground.
With an 'oof,' Locke sat up slowly and smiled. "Tense? I'll have to be more careful around you, for now on. You're too good for me, Ethan."
It was the first and only time Ethan would ever hear Locke admit that. Locke scrambled to his feet and sniffed the air, pointing in the direction a boar had fled in.
Ethan, of course, had already known where it was coming from.
But he followed Locke anyway, learning everything he could from the man- not just about tracking, but about the camp as well. He learned Claire was due any day, and that the men had built a golf course.
So he went. He stood in the background as the good doctor made a fool of himself, as Charlie, who Ethan had long since begun to consider evil, swung his club in the air.
And he smiled, and he laughed. He bet against the good doctor, just trying to fit in. Plus, he didn't really like Jack. And Sawyer could prove to be useful later.
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Then Claire's nightmares started. He'd been watching her from a nearby grove when he heard the first cry. His ears had perked up and his heart had started racing as he wondered if he'd waited to long.
But no. Her own scream awoke her, and Charlie was quickly by her side. Ethan ran over as well, but no one seemed to notice him. He was used to being invisible by now.
Claire said she'd been attacked. Ethan hadn't seen anyone, but he wasn't willing to discount it. He'd theorized that these people- these others- as the crazy French lady called them, had manipulated dimensional planes. They could be standing right here and Ethan wouldn't know it.
The thought chilled him to the core.
He'd have to act soon.
That morning, he set to the task. He planned on keeping Claire safe at least until after she'd given birth, so the first task was to build a birthing bed. He borrowed Sawyer's axe and set to chopping, only to be interrupted by the big guy with the crazy hair. He told him his name was Ethan Rom, and that he was from Canada. It was the first place he could think of, and he didn't trust anyone enough to tell them the truth. Anyone but Claire, at least.
So he chopped his wood and kept to himself, dragging the wood quite a distance from the group, until he reached a secluded grove where he was sure no one would find them. It was far from the water, which could present a problem, but it wasn't worth the Iraqi stumbling across them as he followed running streams or did something else equally useful.
He went back to his tree to continue chopping down wood, and had only been there for a few minutes when Charlie ran up to him. Ethan blanched as Charlie told him Claire was in labor. He'd have to take her now. Which would mean he'd have to take Charlie as well.
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He waited a few minutes, trying to redraw his plan. It had never called for taking more than one. But that was in the past, now, and he'd have to deal with the repercussions of not thinking of that pesky blonde man. The leech.
Charlie and Claire were standing in a small clearing when he found them, and Ethan mentally cursed Claire for her stupidity. They'll find you here. Of course, she didn't know about them. It wasn't her fault.
They knew instantly something was going on, and Ethan wished he didn't wear his emotions on his sleeve. He'd have to work on that.
He still had the advantage of surprise, however, and he knocked Charlie out with two blows. He dragged him along, telling Claire he'd kill Charlie if she didn't follow.
It worked. He felt guilty making Claire feel unsafe, but it had to be done. Or Claire would learn what danger meant. He couldn't allow that to happen, so instead, he preyed on Claire's good spirit.
Claire followed obediently, silently, shaking as they went on, her eyes wide and fearful. Ethan reached another clearing and pursed his lips. They were moving too slowly. The others would find them if they didn't make haste.
He let go of the still unconscious Charlie and looked around. Monstrous vines surrounded them, but little else. Suddenly, he remembered the traps the crazy French lady would set, and decided he'd have to make something similar. He set to work, quickly pulling a vine over to Charlie and tying it loosely around his neck. It was plenty long; nothing should happen. But it would be enough to frighten Claire into following him.
"Claire," Ethan said, forcing his tone to be harsh, "If you don't come with me now, I'll trip this vine, and Charlie will be pulled off the ground. Ever hear of the gallows?"
Claire let out a strangled little sound, and Ethan debated telling her the truth.
She wouldn't believe him, though, not now. He didn't have time to explain now. "You coming?"
Torn, Claire looked between Ethan and Charlie, seeming to judge the truth behind his words. She nodded slowly.
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It was two days before Ethan felt safe enough in their location to fill Claire in on what was going on. "I'm sorry," he murmured one morning, brushing a strand of hair off of a sleeping Claire's face.
She stirred, opening those big blue eyes and looking at him, equal parts scared and hurt. "Why?" she whispered. "What did you do to Charlie?"
When Ethan had returned to the scene to free Charlie, he'd already been gone. Ethan shrugged. "I didn't do anything to him, Claire. He's safe."
Her eyes were narrowed, and Ethan felt horrible for stripping her of that innocent naiveté. "Why should I believe you?"
He blinked rapidly, her words stinging. "You don't have to, Claire. But I want you to know what's going on."
She struggled to sit up, watching him warily. "You do?"
Ethan nodded, and waited until Claire met his gaze to begin. "I'm not from the plane," he started slowly, carefully, testing her.
"Oh God," Claire breathed. "Who are you? Where are you- how long have you been here?"
"I'm not sure. I was leaving Australia to do a photo shoot for a sultan in Malaysia- his daughter's wedding- when my plane went down. My pilot died of a head injury that day."
"When?"
"November of 2000."
Claire's eyes widened. "That was almost four years ago."
Ethan wondered how many people knew who he was anymore. "That's not what's important, Claire. I heard voices talking- about you."
Claire raised an eyebrow, doubtful. "You heard voices?"
Ethan suddenly realized how insane that sounded. "Yeah, I did. I- look, Claire. I don't know how to explain this to you. There's... others. On the island."
"Like, other people?" Claire asked, still nervous.
"Yeah... no... maybe. I'm not sure. I just know... they're not like us, Claire. They're smarter. I think they've figured out how to move through dimensions, Claire. I think that's how they attacked you."
He expected her to think he was insane, but instead, Claire's face softened. "You believe me?" she asked, her voice fragile and choked up.
Ethan nodded. "I want to help you, Claire. I want to keep you safe. The others will hurt you."
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He'd known Claire was a pure soul, but it worried Ethan she proved to be so accepting. Within a few hours of his admission, Claire was speaking and laughing with him, telling him her life story and how much she liked Charlie.
Ethan didn't have the heart to tell Claire that he'd come to the realization that Charlie was evil, a threat to her and the baby.
That night, Ethan caught himself and Claire a boar, and they eat roasted meat for dinner and crawled under a tarp Ethan had stolen as the rain poured down.
"Do you think anyone's looking for me?" Claire asked, licking meat juice off of her fingertips.
Ethan grimaced. Yes. "I'm sure they are."
"What about Charlie? Do you think he's really okay?"
Chah-lie. He'd noticed the accent before, but it was never as obvious as when her voice softened as she said that name. "He's alive," Ethan allowed. Unless the others found him first.
He'd noticed the accent before, but it was never as obvious as when her voice softened as she said that name. "He's alive," Ethan allowed."That's good." Claire sighed. "I wish I had my diary. If he finds it-"
Ethan's ears suddenly perked as he heard a noise off in the distance, as subtle as a branch breaking underfoot. "Shh."
Claire paled and she studied Ethan quietly as he got up. "What?" she whispered, "Is something out there?"
He held out a hand to keep her back and took a few steps forward. He couldn't see anything, not through the rain. And if there was something, he'd never get Claire out of there in time.
He crawled back under their makeshift shelter and hugged Claire to his side, vowing to protect her with his own life.
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They grew closer as days passed, and Ethan finally had someone to confide in. He told her of his past life, of his high school girlfriend, of his first big break. He told her of the pictures he once took for the Queen, and of the beauty of the Malawian sky at sunset.
She listened with a lazy smile, and told him of Thomas, the last big fight she'd had with her mother, and how she used to dream of being a princess.
Ethan told her that he'd met a few, and being royalty was overrated.
But most of all, Claire called him Nate. It was a small thing, really, but it had been so long since he'd heard anyone refer to him that way, with such softness in their voice.
He thought he was a little bit in love with her.
The sixth morning, Ethan awoke early to find Claire already up, knees brought to her swollen belly and rocking back and forth.
"Morning," he murmured, reaching a hand out to rub the small of her back. She'd been waking up sore, and he felt bad. His hand landed on her stomach, though, and he frowned. It felt hard. "Are you okay?"
Claire nodded and offered him a feeble smile. "I think the baby might come today."
Ethan bolted upright, suddenly understanding the reason Claire's stomach was so hard was due to a contraction. "Are you- how long?"
Claire shrugged. "They're pretty far apart for now. Charlie said i could go into false labor."
Ethan studied her, not so sure.
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When the sun had come completely up and Claire had progressed no further, her contractions still quite far apart but the pain steadily growing, Ethan became worried.
He sat down at her side tentatively and looked over at her.
"It hurts," she murmured, head down.
Ethan nodded. "Can I have your necklace?"
Claire looked up, shocked. "What?"
"I remember reading something... hypnosis can take away pain. Can I?"
"What? Are you going to do some 'you are getting sleepy' thing on me?"
Ethan laughed despite himself. "No. I want to make sure the necklace doesn't hurt you during the birth, and we'll need it to tie off the cord."
"Oh my God," Claire cried, "This is really happening."
"It will be alright," Ethan soothed. "The necklace?"
Claire nodded and brushed aside her hair. "Take it."
Ethan leaned over and untied the back, taking the necklace off. "Okay, Claire, now close your eyes."
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Labor had been progressing nicely for the past couple hours, but it had come to a standstill, and Ethan wondered if Claire had been right about the false labor thing. He sighed, looking over at Claire. Her eyes were empty yet vacant, deep in a hypnotic state.
"Claire," he whispered, crawling across the ground so he was right next to her. "Claire, you can come out of it now."
No response. Ethan swore under his breath. In his attempt to rid Claire of her pain, Ethan hadn't considered how little knowledge of hypnosis he really had.
"Claire, uh, count backward from ten. Ten... nine... eight... seven... six... five... four... three... two... one." Nothing. "Shit."
"Claire," he shifted closer, cradling her head in his hands and staring into her vacant blue eyes.
She let out a little sigh, and Ethan paused.
"Wake up, beauty."
She was starting to scare him, so unreachable. "Claire." He brushed a hand across her cheek, becoming desperate. "Claire!"
She blinked, but otherwise had no reaction.
"Claire!" he whispered anxiously, running his thumb along her cheekbone. "Claire, wake up."
Still nothing. He sighed, kissing her cheek lightly. "What have I done?" he murmured, dropping light kisses along her cheek and her nose, the way a follower would his Goddess. "Claire..." he whimpered, laying one light, soft kiss on her lips.
He knew it was a bad idea before she even moved. He felt her tense and understanding seemed to flood her eyes as she saw him and she shrieked, jumping to her feet. "Stay away from me!" she yelled, backing away from him. "You- you freak."
Ethan watched her run, too shocked to react immediately. It scared him. Something had happened to Claire while she was under, and that look in her eyes...
She didn't recognize him. But more than that, it was like she had no idea what was going on, or that she was in grave danger.
He had to save her. Ethan jumped to his feet, taking off after her.
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