Author's Notes: So hey, here's that Charlie/Claire fic I told ya I'd do, Candace-chan! This fic, as ongoing as it may be, will be unaffected by the nasty and unhappy looking spoilers for the upcoming episodes. Because fluff rules all. Each chapter will be a oneshot, so please don't leave reviews asking for longer chapters, as they won't come. I don't own any of this, obviously, or Jack would have died sooner, and Boone would be alive. Don't sue.

Enjoy.

Track #1 – The Monster Eats The Pilot

Charlie had experienced many different shades of being terrified in his life.

The first time he had been on stage. The screaming crowds and wailing fans was just scary as hell. He remembers sweat dripping of his nose and his fingers slipping across the guitar strings like butter. He remembers the throbbing of his heart pounding in his ears and the adrenaline rush beat by the powder he had sniffed before the show. It was a wonderful kind of terrified.

Charlie remembers when the plane crashed. Buzzing in his ears, the numbness in his head. People screaming, crying. Explosions everywhere. He remembers wandering aimlessly, wondering how he could have survived something like that. It was a blurry kind of terrified.

He remembers running through the rain. The pilot's cries for help and the crimson blood splattered on the glass like finger paint. He remembers the frantic scramble for his life, off the plane and into the jungle like a lightning bolt. The feeling of his feet flying out beneath him and sprawling in the mud. Sheer terror.

But most of all, Charlie remembers Claire's screams. That fateful night that she woke up, pleading for her baby's life. His heart turned ice, someone attacked her. Someone in the camp had attacked her. And his terror had only risen when Jack refused to do anything. When Ethan had attacked them. Charlie couldn't remember being in such a state of terror before. Not like that

So imagine what he felt when he once again awoke to Claire screaming. In the bed spread beside him, sandwiched between him and the crib, she flailed, tears escaping her eyes. In his dazed state, he reached for her arms, rubbing them up and down. He gathered her sobbing form into his arms and whispered into her hair. Eventually she calmed, but still the tears fell.

"It's okay, love, just a nightmare," he whispered, soothing. His fingers tangled in her hair, one hand traced circles on her back.

"It…it was the monster…" she choked, "The monster wanted my baby. Oh Charlie, what if someone wants my baby!"

"Claire, Claire, there's no need to worry," he whispered, pulling her back to look at her, "No one wants your baby!"

"Charlie!" now her voice was shrill. That was bad. Nothing good ever came from a voice that shrill. Ever.Jack had warned him that sometimes the pregnancy hormones stuck around after childbirth, and that he should watch what he said around her. But it was one in the morning, and Charlie's mouth could not be blamed for listening to his groggy brain. It was then that he realized the direness of his words.

He began to apologize immediately.

"No, no, love! I didn't mean it that way!" he ran a quick hand through his hair, sweat beading on his forehead, his uneasiness mixed with the humid jungle air, "The monster doesn't want your baby! Not that there would be any reason not to, he's just beautiful! Takes after his mum, really," he nodded frantically, "But not me, I want your baby. No worries love!"

Claire stared at him for a moment. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for her scolding words to come. He didn't mean to upset her, he really didn't.

What came next was most unexpected.

She laughed. Not a giggle, or a snicker, but a chuckle. A chuckle that turned into a grinning, pretty laugh. The one that Charlie strived to hear. He slowly open his eyes to find her holding her hand over her mouth to stop the laughter from waking the others.

"What, what's so funny?" he asked, utterly confused, "what'd I do?"

"Charlie," she said finally, "You just said you wanted my baby."

His cheeks burned bright red and he averted his eyes. What had he gotten himself into this time?

"Oh bloody hell," he muttered bitterly, and Claire continued to laugh, "you must think I'm a sodding lunatic now. A bloody moron, I am, I didn't mean it that way, Claire."

"Of course Charlie," she pressed a kiss to his cheek and smiled at him. A great yawn escaped her lips, and Charlie could only stare in awe at how radiant she looked that night. Laying down, she rolled towards him, "Sleep now, come on, you sodding lunatic."

He joined her on the bed roll, pulling the blankets over them, "I'm not going to hear the end of this, am I?" He could feel her giggling through her hair.

"Good night Charlie,"

"Night love."