A/N: Another chapter! hurray. Please review, I'll be your best friend :) Lots of swears in this one, just so you know! sorry for the long wait.
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of it's characters.
Time to Let Go:
Filled with tension and an anger that formed his resolve, Charlie headed for that son of a bitch Scotsman. He'd kissed Claire. So Charlie was going to wring his neck. A wolfish smirk twisted his mouth, naturally, for the man deserved what he had in mind. Charlie was even amazed himself by how much anger and betrayal he felt.
Desmond had let them down, there was no doubt about that. Yet at the same time he had been able to trust the man who promised not to let his and Claire's lives become endangered. Charlie shook his head, his mind muddled. He looked somber now, cold and unfeeling to disguise the hurricane of emotions inside-- walking with purpose, trying not to feel the hurt, the after tones of his buzz turning his head in wonder at everything with intrigue. Sea gulls flew overhead, and he was too distracted to notice when Kate joined him at his side.
"Hey you," she greeted him with a smile. It felt far too long that he had spoken to her, so he returned her one of his own, grateful through his pain of having run into her.
"Hi Kate. What have you been up to?" He asked as they fell into step side by side, shielding his eyes from the sun that felt like it was blinding him. It seemed like Jack and Sayid and Kate, the Golden Trio (as he & Claire good naturedly identified them), were always busy with something important to do. Dealing with the Others or trying to further their chances of getting off the back of this turtle they were so lost on.
"Don't have too much planned for today," she told him, and here she grew wistful. "It's nice to have time to myself for the first time in a while."
"That's right," came the reply, perhaps a bit short, and Charlie knew what she was talking about. Too bad he himself had yet to experience such an occasion as of late. He softened his expression at the worry shining in her eyes, chuckled and added, "As if we didn't have all the time on the world on this god forsaken island!"
Kate laughed, too, obvious in her relief of his cheery enough demeanor. She became serious, however, in how she straightened and looked to him with her mouth open to speak. He could tell she was hesitating, uncertain of how he would react, and he thought he frowned a little in response to this prospect. The brunette seemed to guess what he was thinking and smiled comfortingly at him. "How are you?" Three words, and he could also tell that she genuinely needed to know the answer.
A sheepish smile spread across Charlie's face. Kate had always been good to him and to those others of the castaways all together. That was one of the reasons he was so proud to be her friend. And it felt good to be doted upon every now and then after everything that had happened over the last few weeks. He paused before he answered for a moment, thinking upon how to explain to her what did and didn't bother him about his and Claire's immense loss. To tell her the full story of things would only unnecessarily upset her, so he would have to lie to her a bit.
"Things are good for the most part," he told her, earnest, because it was true. "Claire is reasonably happy, and I can find even laughter through out the hours on most days... But that hasn't erased the pain of losing Aaron."
Kate nodded, understandingly. She'd always been a very good sympathizer. "Oh, Charlie," she patted his back, her brow furrowed at his chagrin. She was sincere in her anxiety over their unhappiness. "I'm glad things have been going all right for you, though," and she smiled, the atmosphere lightening. Charlie nodded, and forced a smile (he was just itching to find Desmond and pummel him!) which quickly transformed into a real one.
"Thank you, Kate," he allowed her to embrace him promptly, smiling down at her when she glanced up at him. "For everything. Coming to talk to me. For caring." It meant so much more than she even knew.
Kate shrugged, and disentangled herself from her friend's arms, not hurriedly. "It's no problem, Charlie. You and Claire are my friends. I know you would do the same for me." He was appreciative that she chose to acknowledge this notion. She was soon walking away across the white sand, but so that she was still facing him. "Well, I can tell you're a man on a mission, so I'll leave you be! Talk to you soon, okay, Charlie?" She gave a finger wave, and beamed.
Charlie couldn't help grinning back at her. "Sounds like a plan," he called, nodding his affirmation. "See you later!" He lingered there a little longer, watching her walk away. Kate was a very special person. He realized not if he hadn't before that though Desmond had it out for him, there were still fascinating people like her who cared about him and his Claire.
That was good. This camaraderie with the rest of the cast aways--save one in particular-- offered the loyalty and acceptance he had never really experienced anywhere else, except now that he had Claire in his life. Especially not when he'd stood by Liam's side. When the plane had first crashed Charlie thought upon his brother with bitterness, still troubled by the way they had ended things with each other. He missed him now, never knowing when he would see his older brother again; but at the same time that was all right with Charlie for the mean time, as the hurt of Liam's past decisions was as vivid as a fresh coat of paint. And anyway, Claire was here, and they were going to be together forever.
He walked on, approaching Desmond's tent nonchalantly and pulling back the tarp. The Scotsman was lounging on his makeshift bed wearing only a grey wife-beater that exposed his muscular arms, a rectangle of paper on his lap. His brown eyes glanced up when Charlie started forth for him. He stopped short, appalled, to find that the man's eyes were glistening with tears.
"What the hell do ye want?"
He didn't say it as respectfully as Charlie would accept, and this made the blood pound in his ears once more. "How the fuck can you ask me that you bloody git? You think you can bother my girlfriend and not suffer the consequences?" They scowled at each other resentfully, both as obstinate as the other. Charlie didn't near feel threatened, but it came as a surprise that Desmond was standing up to him. He had always figured the man was weak for being for a drunk and because of what a lunatic he was. Go figure.
Desmond grew a little flustered. He had not expected to get away with kissing Claire, had known that dealing with Charlie would be a consequence. But it had been worth it and he wasn't going to go down without a fight. "I got caught up in the moment," but the reproachful way Desmond was glaring at him told the musician not to accept such an unworthy excuse. It wasn't even the apology that he deserved!
The Englishman grabbed him by the toned shoulders, pulling him closer until they were nose to nose. "Don't push me, Des," that look in his eyes was a warning. Desmond shoved him off, scowled as Charlie paced. He picked up what turned out to be a photograph on his way, what had been the paper rectangle he'd seen, and wondered. A pretty blonde woman was cuddled up to the very man before him. His next words were blunt, mocking, "Is this what was making you cry?"
Desmond snatched the photo from his hands quick as a whip. "What makes ye think ye can just barge in here, mate? Are ye looking to be put in your place?"
Charlie chortled, nodding with a sarcastic grin, "Yeah, okay. Show me what you've got, champ."
Unexpectedly, Desmond shook his head. "I don't want to fight ye, Charlie." This reaction was much different than what Charlie had expected. The Englishman chuckled darkly, a certain menace about him. Suddenly, in one quick motion, Charlie's fist flew toward Desmond's face, striking the handsome curve of his cheekbone just below his right eye with impact obsolete.
"Well, I want to fight with you."
Desmond swore loudly, sent reeling from the blow. "You're a right arse, ye know that?!"
"Who is the girl in the picture?" He returned, shrugging self assuredly, his tone sharp. "Tell me Desmond. Who is she?"
Desmond's jaw set, his eyes blazing defiantly. "None of ye're god-damn business!"
Charlie caught him in a head lock. "Why do you love Claire so much?" He asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed at his protector of sorts.
With a sigh the question was responded to. "I don't love her. Penny is the one for me--but, but everything about Claire fascinates me. She has come to mean very much to me." The excuse was weak, and Charlie bristled. 'My woman', he kept wanting to declare. 'Mine.'
Charlie's expression changed to a grimace. "You're obsessed with her!" It wasn't an accusation, it was in the style of making some grim discovery, his voice soft and eyes hard. This scenario so reminded him of that horrible Ethan. He shuddered.
"But here's what's going to happen," continued Charlie, eager to end this conversation as soon as possible. The anger toward the man had disappeared replaced by the extreme want to leave and get away from this place and Desmond himself. "You will apologize to Claire," without hesitating, he twisted Desmond's arm when he looked about to protest. "You will."
"Fine," bit the Scotsman in response, glaring stonily at the other man. "But I won't mean it."
In all honesty, Desmond was sorry. Great shame surged through him at the memory of the kiss he had stolen from Claire, and from Charlie too, really. He felt like a rat enough as it was that the dilemma of Charlie's attack was getting on his nerves. But despite the Scotsman's self ill feeling and the negativity he was emitting, refusal to admit his mistake, right now, was set in stone. He would never apologize, not with the way Charlie had approached him.
"Ye're lives are still in my hands, brother." He felt horrible saying it, but Desmond was glad that he had managed to wipe the antagonistic smirk from the ex rock star's face.
Charlie felt a pang, mouth wide open with shock, facade gone--or at least for the time being. The only person he could truly be himself with, who understood and supported him through and through was Claire. Despite the lifestyle he'd lived as a well known performer, he had been isolating himself but for with Claire after the two of their lives had been changed forever. Although his distance seemed to be changing for the better lately, the trauma of Aaron's death would always be a burden to bear.
Charlie scowled, Desmond's shirt crumpled in his clenched fist. "A first class jerk is what you are," he growled. "You gave Claire and I your word that you were going to warn us about any premonitions you experience, keep her safe. Don't tell me you're going to go back on that." A shiver ran down the young man's spine at the thought of his precious lover in harms way and the last part came out pleadingly, making Charlie suddenly seem less threatening and more vulnerable.
Desmond heaved a heavy sigh, slapped at Charlie's hands until the blond released him. "Look, mate. I don't want to fight; that was never my objective or intention. I shouldn't have done what I did, I'll admit it. You have to understand; I couldn't help myself."
Desmond's desolate expression made him appear earnest, but Charlie couldn't seem to see past his would be friend's outrageous behaviour. Everyone knew that Claire was his girl, that it was him and she forever and no other. Although part of him wanted to forgive the Scotsman, put this incident behind them and be protected under his wing with the reassurance that he was friend and not foe--a much bigger need to right himself, protect his Claire from Desmond's corrupting influence, and maintain the little family that was all they had left jarred him to the bones. No way would Charlie let the guy get off that easy.
"Don't try to justify what you did, you sick bastard," he hissed, glaring up at the stockier man, who was also almost a head taller than him but did not posses strength greater than his own. Although there was part of his being that would never come to life again from the trauma he'd been through, Charlie's spirit made up for any advantage Desmond had over him. "You're trying to ruin my life! You've seen what we two have already been through, you have-- and yet you're going to cause more trouble and tears." Charlie's own vivid blue eyes filled, as against his will as ever, and he dropped his gaze so he would not have to meet Desmond's pitying stare. The hot tears flowing down his cheeks felt childish, and he resented that anger and disappointment tended to cause bawling on his part, particularly while he'd been growing up.
"Charlie," The Scotsman reached out a hand and touched the younger man's shoulder, tentatively, but kept it there with a sort of guilty resignation until the blond shrugged it off. "Ye know that's not true. The last thing I want to do is cause ye and Claire any more grief-"
"Well then why did you?!" Charlie had whirled around to glare at him defiantly, chin raised and arms crossed over his chest. He appeared to have regained control of himself, for tears no longer fell although the trails the earlier ones had left were clearly visible. "Much as I hate to acknowledge it, you're not stupid, Des. I know you know that, with cause, always comes reaction. I didn't think you would act without thinking about the consequences of what you did." He finished sadly, not bothering to mask the discouragement in his tone as he frowned at his shoes. He had felt angry on his way here and for a good long time at Desmond--hell, he still was! But the white hot rage that had taken over in the heat of the moment had retreated somewhere deep inside himself, leaving only remorse and betrayed bitterness in its wake.
All was silent for a moment, both uncomfortable, unsure what do to with their hands or how to stand in the midst of this awkwardness between them. Finally, Desmond spoke. "I don't know what to say," he stated monotonously, but the expression he wore looked desperate somehow, frantic for some sign of forgiveness that was not in the frown Charlie was displaying. "All I can say is that I'm an arse, aye, an' I know it. But there is nothing I can do to change the past. I want us to be able to trust each other, help each other in times of need. Please tell me I've not ruined that?"
Desmond seemed almost actually regretful. Charlie wished he could truly believe that the other man was. He didn't reply at first, just squinted at Desmond with open hostility, although his heart wasn't really into it. He'd walked here steaming mad and was leaving on the verge of more tears, ones that he bit the inside of his cheek not to let show. When he did answer his voice seemed to echo with finality, like he was deciding to put a stop to their conversation, like he made up the script. "Not good enough. I wish this wasn't the way things had to be between us, Des; I really do."
"Then accept my sincere apology! Let's put this behind us!" Desmond sounded disbelievingly incredulous, at both the amends he was not making with the musician and Charlie's total dismissing of his apology.
Charlie all ready had his back turned, was walking away. "Should have thought about that before," the edge in his voice was flat and ice cold, like that of a knife. "Well, ciao, Desmond. Won't be seeing ya. And hear this, or you will be very sorry--and I'll make sure of it! Stay the fuck away from Claire." He paused to glare daggers at the man over his shoulder, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "I mean that. And Desmond? I will never trust you again. So long as I live, I will not trust you."
Then he was gone. Desmond bit back a sob once the tarp flap of his shelter had fallen back into place and he was left staring only at his shadow. Boys weren't supposed to cry. He stayed standing there for how long he didn't know, although eventually it grew so dark that he could not see his shadow anymore. He fell back onto his sleeping mat tiredly, so tired. More tired than he'd felt ever in his life, except perhaps that night at the football stadium so long ago, the last time he'd seen Penny outside of his dreams. Coincidentally, also the night he had met Jack for the first time.
Gazing into the photograph Charlie had snatched up earlier, what felt like a hundred years ago, Desmond stilled. This picture, the only memento he had of his love so far away, had always managed to ease his suffering when missing Penny got so bad it began to feel like a flesh wound. Tracing that pretty face with his little finger, he wondered how he could have ever been so bold as to kiss Claire, in the first place. It was Penny who had his heart, who always had and always would, and he could scarcely believe he'd committed such a deceiving sin despite their love, despite their separation, even though he remembered the need to hold that glorious Aussie well. He really was sorry, he found, more so than he had been before--because if Penny were ever to lust on another he wouldn't be able to bear it, and even though she knew nothing about his dishonesty, shame filled him like he couldn't believe.
Desmond had not known jealousy well, because he had never seen his lover in the arms of another man. But as more guilt stewed within him restlessly, he could imagine what such an ultimate betrayal would feel like. "Is this what I've done to Charlie and Claire?" He asked himself, the photograph close to his heart, sick with emotion as the realization hit. How could he have? "What a horrible bugger I am." At that moment he really felt that it was true.
He would try again, he decided wildly, turning onto his stomach uncomfortably, photograph still held out before him to examine. Reconciling with the two he had hurt and let down so badly was a must. Soon enough, he would make another attempt and be graced by the mercy of forgiveness, which would hopefully give rest to his guilt and pain at the hurt he could have caused Penny. He hadn't realized how much until now, but the two of them were important to Desmond, and so he would try again. That was a promise, and despite the pessimism running through him, he managed to get some sleep.
With Charlie and Claire...
Charlie wasn't sure how long he had spent confronting Desmond, but it was darker outside by the time he left the Scot's tent, although the day was by no means over. All the stinging disappointment, anger, and sadness that Desmond didn't deserve his forgiveness had formed into a sort of grim acceptance of the fact that his would be friend wasn't going to change. I knew he was trouble, he thought, shuffling through the pureness of white sand to the tent he shared with Claire. Right from the first moment we had an actual conversation, when he was bothering Claire and-gulp-Aaron so long ago, I knew he wasn't one of the good guys. The dimness of evening shadowed the paleness of the ground, matching the darkness Charlie felt in his heart.
But even though he knew not to place one ounce of trust in Desmond any longer, Charlie couldn't help dwelling miserably on the past. Desmond had helped him back to camp the first time he'd used again, after his kid's death, when he'd been too disoriented and sick to make his way there by himself. 'Can you give us a hand?!' Charlie had demanded, panicked, when Eko lay wounded and unconscious during the implosion of the hatch. Desmond had yelled back, 'I'm trying, brother!' Charlie hadn't really believed him at the time, but had later on discovered that the only reason he hadn't died that day was because of the Scotsman.
It's a shame I can't believe in him anymore, the musician lamented, although he didn't know why he still wished he could when he was very aware of the intensity with which Desmond was lusting on the love of his life. Through the haze of thoughts and emotions, Charlie knew only one thing for sure. Desmond was going to protect Claire, and hopefully himself from any possible danger he knew about. Or Charlie was going to make him sorry they had ever ended up on the same island. He was still walking, slowly, deep in thought when he spotted Jack. Oh joy, my favourite person, even though Charlie wasn't sure what exactly Jack had done to deserve his irritation.
"Hello," he greeted, for it was only the polite thing to do, as the doctor approached. He tried for a smile but could tell from the unfortunate understanding in Jack's eyes that it didn't look authentic.
"Hello yourself," Jack nodded respectfully. "How goes it, Charlie?"
Charlie could only shrug. "Been better," he confided in the older man, feeling a little better and more trusting toward the man who had once saved his life and whose life he had once saved as he slung an arm over his shoulders. There was no reason to feel threatened or suspicious of Jack; he wanted only what was best for him and Claire, to make sure they were dealing well with the misfortune that had befallen them. "Been worse, though, so it's no big deal. What are you up to?"
Jack smiled gently, but his eyes looked sad. "Well, good. That you're not in over your head, I mean--" Charlie found that he simply could not take offence to the doctor's unconscious patronizing as he would have only thirty days, or so, ago. That was just Jack, and Charlie didn't blame him for acting a little superior. Things like that just didn't bother him anymore. "Just doing rounds, you know, check ups. You in need of one?"
Charlie smiled. Jack was ever hard working, always ready to give just a little bit more, devoting his time to help people who could not return the favour if the roles were reversed. "I dunno," he shrugged, "you tell me."
Jack chuckled softly, tilting Charlie's chin to better see his eyes, pressed a hand to his heart to feel its beating and ensure it was normal. Since the night Claire had rushed to him with info that something was the matter with Charlie, the issue of his heart had not progressed, luckily. Jack didn't know exactly what had happened that night, and as he'd been out like a light Charlie had no idea. But if anything the doctor would guess that Charlie had taken too big of a hit on the Smack he was stoned off of right now, and had almost died.
"You seem fine," he reassured the Englishman. "You're on it right now, aren't you?" Jack didn't need to elaborate. Charlie knew what he was referring to perfectly well. The leader of the castaways, for that was pretty much what Jack was, found he couldn't be angry with Charlie for going against his wishes and using.
Charlie sighed, feeling a little shameful, but not enough that he became defensive. "You can't really blame me, can you?" He asked softly, though he knew Jack probably could if he tried. "There's barely any left... When it's all gone it will be the end of it. I'm sorry we took it back, but, well... we needed it."
"We?" Slip of the tongue, Charlie realized dismally, too late. "You mean... Claire's using too?"
Charlie sighed again. "Yes." No point in lying when Jack could easily march to their tent and look into Claire undoubtedly glazed eyes, too.
"Charlie! How could you let that happen?" Jack looked disappointed, but not angry like the ex rock star had expected.
"The first time she tried it I had no idea. When I told her we were going to stop, the both of us, she cried, Jack! She threw a fit. It's almost done, what does it matter that we finish it off?"
Jack sighed too now. "I don't agree, but I guess it's not my place to control your lives. I know, if anything, your objective is only to take care of Claire. I know that. But Charlie, is it really almost finished?" Looking a little stern now.
"Yes," he responded seriously, looking up and meeting Jack's concerned eyes. "I promise. I swear. After that we'll be going through painful withdrawal--though it couldn't be any more painful than what we have already been through. And we'll heal, and hopefully return to normal, even though I'm not sure that's exactly possible." Charlie wrung his hands, feeling awkward bearing his soul to someone that was not Claire. "I won't ever be the same as I was."
A little shudder seemed to work through the older man, as if he was reliving his failure to save Aaron. "I know that. Just please stay true to what you're telling me, Charlie. This has got to stop. It's not good for you guys." And Charlie knew that he was only saying this because he cared, not because he was in the mood for preaching.
"I will," and at the time he really meant it. "But if you'll excuse me I've got to go see Claire, she was sleeping when I left and I have a feeling she won't be too happy about that." He gave a sheepish smile, which Jack returned, and they hugged quickly because it wasn't masculine to be caught embracing ones doctor, with tear tracks still visible on your face, in the openness of the beach for no obvious reason.
"All right, I'm holding you to that. Take care of yourself, Charlie, and of Claire. I'll catch you later!" And with that the doctor had turned around and headed to Juliet, who was sitting by the fire with a can of creamed corn, being eyed by a jealous Kate. Charlie wondered what was going on there, but had too much on his mind to decipher body language and what this could all mean.
He took a few more strides until he was facing the entry of their tent, eyeing it a little apprehensively. There was nothing for him to feel guilty about, but he got the feeling she wouldn't be happy that he had left while she was sleeping when she had specifically asked him to stay. Even if they had only known each other for a few months, they had been through hell and back together. Also and at last, Charlie recollected with satisfied buoyancy, they had consummated their love for each other. He entered the tent without a second thought.
It was difficult to tell whether the Aussie was awake and alert at first. Her doll like form was sprawled across the two sleeping pads, found in the cockpit long ago, and thin sheets they used for bedtime. "Claire honey? You awake, babe?" He sat down next to her, nudging her jean clad thighs with his lap. No response, but he felt her body tense up under the arms he wrapped around her middle, and for a second experienced a jolt of panic that had him shaking her, not hard, but none too gently either.
"Jeezus, Charlie!" She sat up despite his embrace, brow furrowed and blonde tresses swinging, an expression of brief annoyance crossing her pretty face. "What was that for?"
Charlie frowned, stroked back hair the colour of wheat shot through with strands of gold. "I'm sorry, my lovely little love." It was all he could say, and by the way Claire rolled her eyes, even an infinite amount of pet names were not going to get the man off the hook. She arched an eyebrow, crossed her arms over her chest obstinately, but her eyes looked sad.
"You left while I was sleeping," she mewled, her angry facade giving way to a look of soft grief that almost made him want to weep. Then, blue eyes hardening, "You broke a promise!"
Charlie sighed, shook his head. But he had a perfectly good reason! "Oh darling," he pulled her back against him from where she'd been inching away, held on tight until she gave in and pressed her cheek to his chest. "I could not be more sorry. I had to see Desmond, give him a piece of my mind--it couldn't wait. You understand that, don't you?"
Pondering why this was such a big deal to her and fighting back tears, Claire nodded. "You could have at least woken me!"
Here, though, Charlie disagreed. "You so rarely sleep well at night--don't try to deny it, because I know. I didn't have the heart to wake you. I'm sorry dear."
The Aussie sighed into the soft cotton of his T-shirt. "What does it matter? If I want to be with you, that's my choice. I didn't want you to leave me, and because you did you could have at least given me the option of coming along..." She tried and failed to swallow the painful lump in her throat. Now she recognized why she was so upset; Claire felt abandoned and unstable and insecure knowing that Charlie had left her so easily against her wishes. "What did you have to say to Desmond that I wasn't allowed to hear? ...Didn't you want me to come too?"
Once more, Charlie didn't know what to say. Of course I didn't,he thought about telling her, then thought better of it. Claire was the last person he wanted anywhere near the Scotsman, even if he was responsible for her safe keeping and owed her a sincere apology. Instead he took her chin in his hand, lifting her face so that their blues eyes were gazing into each others. "I will not ever, ever leave you, Claire. You know that, right?"
She didn't answer, and without thinking, Charlie did what his gut told him to. Captured her mouth with his, lips parting hers, their tongues meeting in bliss. She gasped in surprise, but the sound was soon forgotten in the passionate soul-kissing that ensued. Deciding to forgive him, seemingly, she laced her arms around his neck, pulling him closer so that their hearts were touching and beating together through their chests. When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless.
"That's my answer," she panted, all seriousness in her tone, but smiling gently. She kissed his cheek, lips brushing the cuteness of a dimple, making Charlie grin. "I love you," she told him, "even if I get irritated with you sometimes. Remember forget that, okay, Charlie?" She needed to know that he would always know the way he made her feel, no matter what, and got the feeling he could sense that this was not some unimportant request she had like not to leave her while she slept. No, she really needed the reassurance that through thick and thin they would always be together.
"I won't, my love," Charlie promised, breathed in her ear sending delicious shivers up Claire's spine, "my angel, my heart. You remember it, too, all right? No matter what?" He gave her a quick squeeze, lying back on their makeshift bed with her in his arms.
"No matter what," she affirmed, letting him rub her back in slow, soothing circles. "We'll be together."
That, also, was a promise.
A/N: hope you guys liked that. Took aaaages to write! pleasepleaseplease review, it shall make me write so much faster and give me more inspiration. I don't think there will be too much left with this fic, ten more chapters at the most. once again, please review!
xox Sacha