As he plucked the strings on his guitar, he reminisced back to the days when he was a 'rock god' but too innocent to know what that meant entirely. Oh, to be innocent again. Charlie looked over his shoulder to see Claire asleep behind him, her arm resting protectively on her stomach. She was the picture of everything he wanted and needed in his life. But he couldn't have her. He didn't deserve her. And although he meant to look away, Charlie found himself staring at her even more, examining her intently now, knowing she wasn't looking.Her face was like a china dolls, a porcelaine face and rosy cheeks. A perfectly pouted mouth. His ideal. Charlie groaned to himself, turned back around and strummed a sharp note on his guitar. "Bugger it," he spat and let himself fall apart in his hands. His headache was coming on again. And his hands twitched. The drug withdrawal symptoms had saved the worst for last. Charlie could feel his heart beating down in his toes, his fingertips. Each nerve ending felt split. His brain; fried. He knew the more he agonized over things, the worse they got. He knew because he felt renewed when he was spending time with Claire. The hurts fell away like a curtain between the changing of a scene in a play. But they were only being rearranged and set back up for him to agonize over later. It was only a matter of when.
"Hey, buddy," spoke a voice from above him. Charlie dug his face from his hands to face Jack sitting next to him. How embarrassing, Charlie thought, why did anyone have to see me like this? And why him? Why the only guy he antagonizes himself over not being? Jack Shepard, guardian angel and saint to all on the island. Charlie looked at him. He couldn't be more than 34, 35. Probably hasn't even been a doctor for very long. What makes him so special? "Hey," Charlie replied, hiding the adomosity lurking beneathe the surface. "How ya feel?"
"How do I look?"
"Like you could use a friend." Jack was being so kind to him.How could Charlie stay upset with him? First of all, the guy didn't ask to be the unspoken leader. In fact, he jilted it. Secondly, he was a good guy. No one could say that about Charlie. "I've had a pretty okay day. The symptoms didn't get bad until just around nightfall."
"And, um, I'm sure a certain blonde had nothing to with it being a 'pretty okay day', right?" Jack rather obviously insinuated as the color rose out of Charlies face. He knew Jack or someone would bring it up eventually. Everyone had seen them together today. Only, he didn't plan on having a well-thought out explaination seeing as how he didn't quite understand the situation him self right now.
"Well, uh..."
"Thats okay, "Jack stopped him with a smile, "You don't need to explain it. Not to me." Charlie let out a small huff of relief. Jack nodded plaintively and said, "Got something going on I don't quite get yet either." Charlie was shocked at how well Jack understood him, by only reading his facial expressions. "I mean, we're just friends." Charlie added.
"Friends...that hold hands?" Jack pondered.
"You were following us!" Charlie pointed, feeling a sense of 'I thought so' bubbling out of him. Charlie scratched his beard and chuckled, "We really are just friends, man, honest."
"No, no, thats good, Charlie. Thats just what that girl needs."
"I'm not exactly what the doctor would prescribe though." "No, Charlie, she's lucky to have you. And you know what, I think you are lucky to have her. I thinks shes just what you need, too." Charlies interest piqued. Had Jack just said that? Was he hearing well? Charlie went back to staring at the ground, mulling over the words. Claire...lucky to have M e? And me, well, course I was lucky to have Claire. But was Jack prescribing Claire to me, like a medication? Like a salve to heal my wounds? He was too lost in thought to continue the conversation and Jack knew it. But before getting up to leave, Jack turned around to face him.
"Your a good guy, Charlie." Charlie looked up, directly into Jacks eyes before Jack turned and walked away. A guy who barely knew him, who had just met him, was saying he was a good guy. Could he believe that? He wanted to. But that would mean Charlie would have to trust him. And for him, that wasn't earned so quickly.
'Your the rock god, baby brother...' he heard Liams voice say, then Charlie gaped down at the ground, 'No one even knows who the sodding bass player is!' His eyes were blurring quickly with tears. But he couldn't lose it. Not here. Not near everybody, not next to Claire. Charlie casually set down his guitar and swiped his sleeve across his nose, getting a quick look over the encampment. Nobody was looking. Nobody cared.
'Nobody even knows who the sodding bass player is!' the voice screamed again. Charlie gulped down hard and began to slip off. Off into the jungle, into the wild. The fear of the island at night was like a high, the feeling of not knowing what could happen next. He could almost sense it slide down his throat like a pill. It became hard to swallow but he pressed on. Deeper and deeper Charlie plunged, through the brush and into the velvety darkness where the horizon met the ground and blended into one. The adrenaline shooting through his veins. The surroundings about him grew hazy, like a fading dream. He tumbled over branch and stream until all thought of attachment to himself or others bereft him. He was alone. He was afraid. And he was no better off than where he was yesterday.
Cursing to the sky, Charlie fell to his knees, crying out as loud as he could, "N o b o d y!!!!" and again he let out a sob, falling down farther, burrowing his face to the ground. And there he stayed, staring frightened at the trees around him. The jungle swung as Charlie shuddered to think what might come next. Leave crunched and bristled in the trees. The flapping of nature, its animals, its oceans all greeted his ears. But no sound could stall his fears. No sound but the one he loved the most.
"Charlie..." spoke a voice above him. Charlie rolled over onto his back, tears and mud melted all over his face. "Claire," he cried, "You shouldn't be out here." She wasn't pregnant. The baby was in her arms. He was hallucinating but he didn't care. "Your not far from the camp." she told him, "Its only 10 meters from here. Get up and I'll lead you back."
"Claire, I can't. I'm so afraid."
"I'm not going to leave you, Charlie." she assured him. Charlie had to remind himself this wasn't real before he decided to answer. But she started to talk again. "Now give me your hand." A hand was extended to him. Reluctant, Charlie took it and sniffled heavily at her.
"I can't move." he panicked, trying to get up off his knees but feeling paralyzed.
"Yes, you can." she told him, "Believe."
"In what? Believe in what?"
"Yourself." Charlies eyes prodded her, the baby, the whole area around them. Could he believe in himself? Maybe not. But was he going to let the baby down? He shouldn't even be here. It wasn't safe for him. Charlie took Claire's hand and felt his body creak as he rose up. "Come," she beckoned him and led him through the brush. Charlie was still afraid but confident. He wasn't alone. He had Claire. And a baby to protect.
"I love you," Charlie announced as he felt the presence of a feeling he hadn't had in a long time. Affection. He was so happy that Claire was here with him, even if it was just a hallucination. He knew that it meant something profound. And he wanted to tell her. But Claire didn't respond. She just continued leading him. Discouraged, Charlie trekked on. He couldn't believe even a hallucinated woman wouldn't even tell him she loved him. How pathetic.
Well, eventually he passed out somewhere before the entrance to the caves and when he awoke his hallucinated dream girl was gone. Unforunatly, sleeping on a pillow of bed rock left him with a splitting headache and an even nastier back sore. But he was alive. And for him, that was good enough. At least, for now.