Across Enemy Lines

by Dreamality
Disclaimer: Lost and all related characters, settings, plots, etc. belong to J.J. Abrams and ABC. I claim no ownership and make no money from this venture.
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Chapter Five

"Sawyer? What the hell are you doing here?" Kate asked in disbelief, keeping the flashlight trained on his face. He squinted and looked away from the bright light, making no reply to her question.

"I'll tell you what he's doing here. Stealing our food!" Boone yelled. Jack had to keep a tight hold on him to keep him from throwing himself at Sawyer and ripping him apart.

"You bloody jackass!" Charlie added. He started forward towards Sawyer but Kate stopped him and held him back. Charlie struggled for a moment but he was still too weak from the effects of the withdrawal to do any major damage.

"Everyone just calm down!" Jack urged.

"Oh, piss off, you self-righteous wanker!" Charlie yelled.

"Let me go, Jack, this guy needs to be taught a lesson!" Boone said. There was something to be said for the fact that the man Charlie had been ready to kill for stealing the water only a few weeks prior was now united with him against a common cause.

"Dude, we're not gonna get anywhere by killing him," Hurley said.

"But it would feel damn good," Charlie said, his voice like the growl of a predator just before the fatal attack.

"Both of you just shut it. And you can let go of me, old man," Sawyer said to Locke.

"No, I think I'll just hold on for a bit longer. Boone, Charlie, both of you stay quiet for a minute. Sawyer, do you have anything to say for yourself?" Locke asked calmly.

"What is this, third grade? Are you gonna make me go sit in my room and think about what I've done? No, I don't have nothing to say for myself. The kid is right. I came here to steal. Though I prefer to call it taking advantage of a good opportunity," Sawyer said smoothly, a smug smile in place on his face.

"The other night three dried fish were taken from us, as well as a fresh bunch of bananas. Was that you, too?" Jack asked.

Sawyer put on a look of intense concentration, then shrugged nonchalantly. "Coulda been me, coulda been my partners in crime, Sayid and Michael. We take turns."

"Sayid?" Kate gasped in disbelief. Her expression matched that of a few others who had gathered to see what the commotion was about. Even though Sayid and Jack had disagreed over where to camp, most considered him to still be a good enough person, whereas Sawyer was generally disliked and mistrusted.

"Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but the terrorist isn't as good as he wants you to believe," Sawyer sneered.

"Michael. He was the one with the kid, right?" Locke said to Jack.

Sawyer answered for him. "Yeah, that's him. He leaves his son with the pregnant lady and strolls on through your grocery store here. He knows that you can't live life as a saint and hope to stay on top of the food chain."

"Why do you have to steal? This jungle is plenty big for both of the camps to live well," commented Marc, one of the other survivors who were watching the scene before them unfold with eyes wide in anger and resentment.

"Since the good doctor took the hunter and the only woman who actually does anything, we're left with a terrorist, a redneck, and a black dude who don't know jack about hunting or finding food. Then we've got the princess, the fat girl, the little boy, and the Orientals, plus a herd of sheep who need a shepherd to tell them what to do every waking minute!" Sawyer's voice was at once exasperated and passionate. Charlie, his strength renewed by the surge of anger that accompanied Sawyer's jibe at "the fat girl," struggled against Kate in an attempt to get to Sawyer. Kate yelled to Hurley, who came forward to awkwardly hold one of Charlie's arms behind his back. Charlie stopped struggling, though his shoulders were still tense and the tendons in his neck popped out while anger simmered slowly beneath the surface of his stormy grey-blue eyes.

"So instead of asking for help, you just steal," Jack said in a monotone. He seemed beyond caring now, too accustomed to Sawyer's behavior to be surprised or outraged.

"Would you have given us help if we asked? Or would you have spit in our faces?" Sawyer asked. Jack didn't answer. "That's what I thought."

"The pregnant woman. How is she?" Locke asked Sawyer out of nowhere.

"Pregnant. How the hell is she supposed to be?" Sawyer asked sarcastically.

"I mean, is she close to giving birth, and if so, what do you plan on doing to help her?" Locke asked, a note of anger coming into his voice. He was not one to suffer fools, and Sawyer was quite possibly the biggest fool of all. Locke was not impressed by his snide comments or rough exterior in the slightest.

"Yeah, she's probably ready to drop it at any moment. Sayid and I have it under control," Sawyer answered.

"Oh, Christ," Jack muttered. "You'll kill her."

"She's not going to die!" Charlie shouted. "Bloody hell, Sawyer, just bring her here! Bring her to Jack!"

"We don't need your help! Let me go, you old geezer, let me go!" Sawyer struggled against Locke until he had one arm freed. He punched Locke in the face so that he let go of him completely and sprinted off into the jungle.

"Locke! Jack, he's bleeding!" Kate shouted unnecessarily. The bright red blood pouring from Locke's nose could be seen even in the dark of night.

"Oh, jeez, come on, Locke, let's get you into the cave. Hurley, go find me some cloth to stem the bleeding. God, I hope it's not broken," Jack said, letting go of Boone to move beside Locke so he could support him and lead him into the caves. Hurley hurried off to obey commands and Kate followed Jack and Locke. The other survivors slowly went back into the cave to try to get a few hours' rest before sunrise. Soon, only Boone and Charlie were left outside.

"Thanks for helping me," Charlie said to Boone, somewhat awkwardly yet with an undertone of sincerity. He thrust his hands deep in his pockets and stared at the ground rather than look at Boone's face.

"Yeah, no problem. What a jerk, huh?" Boone said.

"Yeah, man's got some problems," Charlie answered.

"I wonder how much they've stolen from us in the past. It doesn't seem right, jut to let him get off the hook, you know?" Boone commented.

Charlie's eyes narrowed in thought. "You're right. Perhaps a little revenge is in order."

"What were you thinking?" Boone asked curiously.

"Never mind. Leave it to me," he answered. Boone pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, but Charlie didn't look at him. After a moment, Boone went back into the cave to lie down. Charlie remained sitting by the fire for the rest of the night. Jack's words played through his mind over and over.

"Oh, Christ. You'll kill her."

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Days were hard for Claire. She had nothing to do but sit in the sun and watch the people and the ocean and the waves and the sand. Her skin turned bright pink, blistered, peeled, and renewed the cycle so she was in a constant state of pain, burning, and itching. Now that she and Charlie were both apparently too scared to return to the jungle and face possible dismemberment by an unknown terrorizing monster, days were even harder.

Yet nights were the worst. It cooled off, which was nice, but laying on the sand in an attempt to sleep was itchy, uncomfortable, and almost worse than sunburn. No matter how many ways she tossed or turned, it was nearly impossible to find a tolerable position. It felt like her baby gained a pound every day and her lower back ached constantly from the strain of the added weight. Her ankles swelled, making walking uncomfortable, but sitting around all day made her rear end numb. It seemed like the Fates were against Claire, for reasons unknown to her.

Now there was a new worry that kept her awake for all hours. Every so often, a pain would attack her stomach and make her curl inward around her stomach, whimpering softly. It only happened every fifteen or twenty minutes, but the pain was such that she felt it even after the cramps were gone. Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her face, whether from the pain or from the knowledge of what the pain meant Claire didn't know.

At first, she tried to tell herself that they weren't contractions. They were just cramps, that was all. Maybe the banana she'd eaten with dinner hadn't been quite ripe or the fish not cooked all the way through. However, Claire knew that she had only nibbled at her dinner because the first pain had hit her just as Sawyer was handing her the food.

Claire was panicked. She knew, of course, that the baby was going to come eventually. There was no question of that. In the days following the crash she had been only too aware of this. After the splitting of the camps she was distracted by other things, or perhaps she distracted herself with other things to avoid thinking about the rapidly approaching due date. Her mind convinced her that the baby was always a month away, even though the natural progression of time made such a thing ludicrous. Common sense told her she should have been more worried about it, but her mind refused to let her think logically.

If this was really it, if she was really going into labor, Claire had no one to turn to. Sayid was obviously not going to be any help, and she didn't trust Sawyer at all. She didn't know anyone else beyond their first name, and none of them were doctors or nurses or midwives. They wouldn't be of any help to Claire if her baby was breach or if his umbilical cord got wrapped around his neck or if any number of possible problems occurred.

Another contraction washed over Claire. She stuffed her fist in her mouth to stifle the noise so no one else woke up. Maybe the pain would get to be so bad she would just die, and in the morning they would wake up and find her and bury her body or burn it or send it out to sea and go on with their lives, no longer burdened by the responsibility of having a pregnant lady on the island.

Claire wanted Charlie. She knew she should be wishing for Jack, and his appearance was just as unlikely as Charlie's at that moment, but she couldn't help it. He would probably panic and he would have even less of a clue than Claire, but maybe before he passed out he might crack a joke and make Claire smile and relax her enough to let the baby come without problems. Maybe he might even kiss her and make her feel so good she could fly away and find a hospital.

Claire wanted Charlie.

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The jungle at night was a nightmare factory. Every breath of air that stirred a leaf became a monster in Charlie's mind. Every crack of a twig under his own foot became a polar bear breathing down his neck. His own breathing was so loud he was sure Sawyer could hear it even from where he lay, asleep on the beach. His mind came up with countless "what ifs," including what if he got lost and wandered around until he died of starvation, what if a craving hit him suddenly and he just puked until he passed out and got eaten by a monster, what if Sawyer was on his way to the jungle camp and they met in the dark and Sawyer strangled him, what if… what if… what if…

Charlie stumbled through the darkness, trying to find his way to the beach camp. He had promised Boone he would go for revenge, and so he was. Strapped to his back was a large knapsack with two bottles of water for himself and plenty of room for whatever food the beach camp had. Should he stumble across any medicine, all the better. Weapons, unlikely but possible, would be even better. And if he had time and reached the beach camp before sunrise and happened to see Claire and got a chance to talk to her, well then, the monster was welcome to him because at least he would die a happy man.

When he reached the beach camp, he paused at the edge of the jungle to observe. He saw dark shapes on the beach, counted them, and found that no one was missing. All of them appeared to be asleep, but Charlie was wary of Sayid and Sawyer, who were asleep by the fire, which was near the tent where the Air Marshall had died. Since he saw no other shelters or piles of food, he figured that was where their stash was stored. Silently he crept across the sand to the tent and let himself inside.

Idiots, he thought. No guard posted, no one keeping watch. Haven't got a brain to share between them. At the jungle camp, Jack and Locke had decided that a guard should be watching their food at all times, and everyone had a shift. When his came along, Charlie asked Boone to cover for him so he could go on his mission of revenge. Boone had agreed, allowing Charlie to slip off into the night.

The tent was not even half full. To one side were a few backpacks. Upon inspection, Charlie found some painkillers, a pocketknife, cigarettes, and lighters. He took it all and then moved on to the bottles of water stacked in one corner. There were not many, and Charlie only left three behind. In another corner of the tent were two bunches of bananas and a pile of coconuts. He didn't have room to take them all, but he stepped on and smashed one of the bunches of bananas so that they were inedible.

It was wrong. It was bad. It was cruel. It made Charlie feel good.

Sawyer was a jerk. Sayid was an idiot. The others, with the exception of Claire, hadn't a clue what they were doing. Charlie was teaching them a lesson. It would help them in the long run, spur them into action. Maybe they would stop relying on Jack's good sense and leadership and began to think for themselves. While his camp always had plenty to eat and a large variety, it looked as though this camp was living on meager portions and very few choices. The fish Charlie found went into the backpack, even though they stank horribly, and the few bits of boar meat he found were buried into the sand.

It was liberating. It gave him a rush. It was heroin times ten.

Charlie was lost in the moment, destroying everything he came across, and it felt bloody fantastic. When it was over and he had stolen or destroyed nearly everything, leaving them only enough for one meal or two very, very small meals, he exited the tent and went back into the jungle, walking parallel to the beach until his eyes fell upon the only figure that was stirring.

Claire. Her shape was unmistakable. Charlie stopped for a moment to watch her, at first with a smile on his face. She was lying on her back, her eyes open and staring blankly at the sky above. As Charlie watched, an expression crossed her face of intense pain, and the smile fell from Charlie's face. Her hands flew to her stomach and her pale face glowed in the dark night. A small sound escaped her lips, like that of a wounded animal, and she rolled to her side and curled around her stomach.

All pretense of stealth dropped away from Charlie. He crashed through the bush that was in front of him and ran to her side, crying, "Claire!" as he went. He dropped to his knees beside her. The backpack fell from his shoulders and dropped to the ground as Charlie gripped Claire's shoulders and rolled her to her back.

"Charlie," she gasped.

"Shh, Claire, it's all right, I'm here, just relax. What's happening, Claire, what's wrong?"

Claire groaned. Her eyes rolled back in her head and beads of sweat popped out on her forehead. Charlie turned to the backpack and unzipped it quickly, tearing through the contents until his hands grasped a water bottle. His arm went around her shoulder and he helped her sit up a little, then put the bottle to her lips so she could take a drink.

"Charlie, why are you here?" Claire asked.

Charlie hesitated, thinking of the mess he'd left in the tent and the load he had in his backpack. "I came for you, Claire." He moved so he was behind her and let her lean against his chest, keeping his arms around her waist. "What is it, Claire? What's happening?"

"I'm going to have a baby, Charlie," Claire whispered, her voice full of fear and despair.

"What, right now?!" Charlie exclaimed.

"Very soon. He's coming. The contractions have started, and they're still spread out, but when they get closer together I'll know it's time," Claire answered.

"But you'll be all right, won't you? You know what to do, don't you?" Charlie asked, his voice getting higher with each word as panic filled him.

"I need a doctor. I need Jack," she answered. She looked up at Charlie and the moonlight glinted off the tear tracks left on her face. She looked frightened and hurt and panicked and yet, still trusting. Charlie bent his head to kiss her, both to draw comfort from her and give comfort to her.

"What's this?" a new voice asked.

"What the hell are you doing, boy?" asked a second.

Charlie looked up at Sayid and Sawyer, who were shining a flashlight in his face. In his arms, Claire tensed and moaned as another contraction gripped her.

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To Be Continued…

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