Waiting

He's waiting up ahead. Desmond. Probably not waiting for me. If he was, I doubt he'd admit it. He has been rather honest with me of late, but it doesn't take psychic powers to know I walk the same stretch of beach every morning at this time.

But what if he is waiting for me?

"Hey, Des," I call, combing my fingers through my hair just to keep them occupied or I'd probably be tearing loose thread from my shirt hem. "What are you doing out this morning?"

"Just thinking," he says. "Of you."

"Of. . .Of me?"

He shrugs, running a hand through his own messy brown hair. "I'm sorry if I scared you before. With the lightning rod and. . .and other things that happened. I never meant to."

"Water under the bridge," I say. "Better safe than sorry, right? You were looking out for us."

"I just. . .I just want you to know that I'm trying but I can't keep him safe forever. I'm really trying, Claire."

"I know you are, Desmond," I say since acknowledging his efforts seems really important to him. "Thank you. I know, in a way, you're doing it for me since Charlie means something to Aaron and I."

"I just--" he begins before changing his mind with a shake of his head. "I wasn't always so noble but I'm trying to change. If it's true that the Island changes people, I'm hoping it will work it's magic on me."

I smile, stepping forward to take his hand in both of mine. He recoils as if stung, but gradually relaxes when I don't let go and even curls his fingers around mine with a smile.

"You're very. . .You're very comforting," he says. "Something about your presence." He shakes his head again, as if fighting a war within himself. "Charlie is a very lucky man."

"Charlie's not my boyfriend," I say, tracing the top of Desmond's hand with my thumb.

"Yeah? What is he then?" Desmond asks, eyebrows quirking up in interest.

"I don't know," I say on a shrug. "Would-Be-Boyfriend, I suppose. Friend for sure but, sometimes, I wonder. . ." I stop myself before revealing too much. "At any rate, he cares about Aaron a lot and that's important to me."

"You'll meet a lot of people who care about Aaron," Desmond says.

"Is that something you see or something you're just guessing at?" I ask.

Desmond smiles, half sad, half regretful, before pulling his hand away. "Don't you think your walk has been long enough? You should head back."

"Des?" I say, looking over my shoulder as I turn to head back toward camp.

"Yeah?"

"You can join me on my walks anytime. I don't mind the company."

He smiles. That slow, shy smile of his that my mind's fixated on far too much lately. I waggle my fingers in a good-bye wave and he does the same.

I have a feeling my morning beach walks just may get a lot more interesting.