Title: If You Should Cry
Author: Allie
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Words copyright Elvis Prestley c/o Ferdinand, my stuffed monkey. Everything else copyright their respective owners.
Pairings: Charlie/Claire
Summary: He cries for a girl he barely knows and already loves and a baby he never knew.
Authors Note: Wow... I practically cried writing this but the plot bunny just wouldn't go away.

Flames are welcomed, I use them to make smores and reviews will be begged for as they keep Ferdinand, my muse, from eating my hair instead.

And now for a shameless plug, go read and review my other Lost fic "When You Mentioned Blue" and I'll be a happy bunny and do my happy bunny dance.

As always, this is dedicated to my amazing best friend and beta, Kristen (ChicFrom3) and all of the fangirls on the Ex Isle boards.

And now, onto the story...

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She'd been silent for the last two nights, staring into the fire.

He didn't know what she was looking for in the crackling flames. But he sat beside her anyway, silent and waiting. She didn't speak, she hadn't since...

She hadn't spoken in two days.

Not to Jack, when he'd told her. Not to Kate when she'd clutched at her hand and tried to get her to spill her feelings out on the sand. Not even to him.

He sat beside her for the last two days, watching her hands flutter nervously at her stomach and holding glasses of water up to her mouth, making her take sips of it every once in a while.

When she slept, she finally looked at ease. Her face was still gaunt and her cheekbones still protruded, making her cheeks look even more shallow. There were still dark circles under her eyes but she didn't have that haunted look on her face anymore.

She curled up on his black sweatshirt by the fire, her knees pulled up almost to her chin. Her hands were still clasped over her stomach and he ached when he saw her like that.

Sometimes he would ease himself onto the sand behind her and wrap his arms around her. When she felt him, she would turn in her sleep and wrap herself around him. Her body fit against his like they were two puzzle pieces, and sometimes she would cry in her sleep. Her hot tears ran down his neck and he rubbed her back soothingly, sang her lullabies in his soft, rough voice.

When he woke up, she was always facing away from him, curled up into herself again and she never mentioned it, if she knew about those nights where they held each other.

He remembered that night and he had a feeling he always would. And even if he started to forget, he could see it replaying itself over and over in Claire's eyes, like the latest new release at the movie theatre.

It had lasted most of the day and Charlie had never been more terrified.

They'd moved her deeper into one of the caves and he'd held her hand while she'd bit down on her bottom lip to keep the screams inside. He imagined he could see them rattling around in her chest.

He remembered his hand going numb and not caring. He'd watched her hand, her pale fingers intertwined with his darker ones. When he saw her fingers clench around his, he knew she was in pain.

After a while, her fingers remained clenched around his.

Once, when it was quiet, she'd whispered in a strangled voice, "Will you sing to me, Chahlie?"

He'd sung. He'd sung for hours, until his voice cracked and faded away all together. He'd sung to her until his throat dried out painfully and his tongue felt swollen as it tried to form the words.

He'd sung the classics, Frank Sinatra, The Beatles, The Who... anything she wanted to hear. He sang songs he'd written, he sang songs Liam had written. He sang until the words stopped meaning anything at all.

He'd known something was wrong the minute he'd saw him. It had been a him.

He wasn't crying, he wasn't moving. His little chest was still and in the flickering light, Charlie couldn't see his face. His stomach had clenched painfully.

Jack carried the baby away and Kate had started to cry.

When he'd come back, he didn't have the baby. Claire's hand had never loosened it's grip on Charlie's but her eyes were still closed and her breathing shallow.

"Where is he?" he'd asked in a strangled voice. Jack had shook his head but Charlie had persisted. "Where is he, Jack?"

Jack's eyes had flickered to Claire. She didn't move, her eyelashes hadn't even fluttered.

"He's gone, Charlie."

She'd stopped talking after that night. Really, she'd stopped showing any emotion. Except for those nights, when they cried together, wrapped up in each other's warmth.

Claire, crying for herself and her baby who had never even gotten to take his first breath and Charlie, crying for a girl he barely knew but already loved and a baby he'd never known.

FINIS