Paying the Price
Disclaimer: All characters are property of the creators of Lost. No money was made in the making of this fiction.
Summary: Claire's best friend, Rachel, returns to their psychic determined to figure out a few things. Based on the events of Raised by Another.
Author's note: I have a strange obsession with those minor characters that shape the lives of our beloved castaways. If my interpretation of tarot cards and psychics do not agree with your interpretation, just breath and remember that everything is interpretation.
Special thank you to those who posted their transcripts of Lost at the Twixtv script website
Charlie: A psychic?
Claire: I know, it's embarrassing. And after everything… He was just full of it.
Charlie: Or not. I mean… all he wanted was that no one else raise your baby, right? Maybe he knew. I mean, if he wanted it bad enough... you know, if he, if he had the gift then, I believe some people do… Maybe he knew, Claire.
Claire: There was no couple in Los Angeles. He knew. He knew about the plane. What was gonna happen. Oh my God, he knew.
In tarot there is a signature card, a face card which is supposed to signify the underlying character of the person the cards are being read to.
She had been the Queen of Pentacles. It represented her perfectly; moody, thoughtful, intelligent and charitable. When the card came up she knew that it was for her. Actually, Rachel's first thought was that the psychic was coming onto her but never mind.
It had been her first time to a psychic and she had been thrilled by her reading. Richard Malkin was incredible. Rachel was promised that greatness would fill her life.
Afterwards she dragged Sasha to the psychic as well. Only Sasha's reading wasn't as tremendous as Rachel's. Sasha had been told that she was going to lose her job; Sasha didn't believe a word of it. But when she was fired two weeks later, Rachel found her a job at Fish 'n' Fry with her and Claire.
It took months to get Claire to come with her to Malkin's. Claire only conceded to go because she wanted a bit of fun after her mother fully cut her off. Though Claire wanted a bit of entertainment, Rachel had to force her to get a full reading. Claire had initially never wanted to go to a professional to have her cards read. Despite Claire's infatuation with astrology she held no interest in the meeting with professionals. So Rachel had taken it upon herself to be the first to perform an informal tarot reading on Claire. What she didn't pick up from her psychic she learned on the internet. Claire's reading had been so strange, so inconclusive. Although Rachel had been sure to put the Queen cards on the top of her newly bought tarot deck so that Claire could chose her signifier, the Death card had somehow made is way to the top of the pile. Claire had discounted the incident as bad shuffling, but in the light of recent events, Rachel couldn't be sure.
Rachel's second try had yielded the Queen of Hearts, something which fit Claire to a tee. A fair haired woman who was trustworthy, faithful, loving, gentle, and pleasing
The card fit Claire Littleton to no end; innocent and sweet. A women so trusting, so easily duped by men; like Thomas… like Mr. Malkin. Mr. Richard Malkin, who at first nobly refused to give Claire a reading but who would later tell Claire to go to L.A so that she could give her baby to some trusted couple. If Rachel had to pick a card for the psychic, something to be his signifier she would chose The Devil.
Rachel never even got to say goodbye. Claire had breathlessly come to see Rachel after failing to give the baby up. Claire cried as she explained her inability to give the baby away and her fears about a horrible rendition of 'To Catch a Falling Star'. Rachel had instructed Claire to go to Mr. Malkin who had originally promised to help Claire out.
Claire hadn't returned after the visit, and a few days later Rachel was contacted by the police. Because Claire had no immediate caring family, and no fiancé to boot, Rachel was Claire's emergency contact. Although no bodies were found, it was probable to assume that Claire had died in the crash.
For weeks Rachel struggled to understand why Claire would be on a flight in her last few weeks of pregnancy. It made no sense at all. She plagued the airline and Claire's OB-GYN for answers; she almost didn't receive any answers until a few people took pity on her.
Everything had been paid for and arranged by Richard Malkin. At first the whole thing had made perfect sense, Richard had always promised to help Claire out, he must have found her a family in America.
It seemed odd though, that Malkin who had so clearly foreseen something as small as Sasha's job loss had missed something as gigantic as the Flight 815 plane disappearance and presumed crash.
The moment she had dwelled on that thought everything became sickeningly clear. All the times Malkin had called them both, demanding that the child be raided by Claire alone. All the times he would come to Rachel's house and demand that she force Claire to keep the child. Everything pointed to one direction.
Rachel returned to Malkin's once more. She stood anxiously outside his door, constantly ringing the doorbell until he was forced to answer him. The man came to the door, looking haggard and ill. Rachel felt no pity. "You knew." She said simply, ignoring opening formalities.
Malkin allowed her inside before he responded. He led her to his small kitchenette where a cup and saucer where still on the table. Rachel sniffed and smelled the fragrant aroma of freshly brewed tea.
Malkin sat in his chair and motioned to the one across from him, but Rachel could scarcely breathe let alone sit down.
"Yes, I knew." He said quietly, staring into the bottom of the teacup.
"You knew?" Rachel repeated, hoping that he had misunderstood her question. "You knew that the plane would crash?" She prompted again.
Malkin let out a huge sigh and buried his hands in his hair. "Yes."
Rachel stood there for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what to say. What could be said in a revelation such as that? "You knew?" She repeated allowing the fact to sink in.
"Would you like some tea?" Malkin offered, pointing to a steel kettle on his stove.
"I would like you to be sent to jail!" Rachel gasped, scarcely able to breathe. Her world felt as though it were spinning around her.
"Everything I believed in…" Rachel faltered, unable to complete her thought. Claire's death… the flight passengers. It was her fault. Rachel felt as though she was going to be sick, bile crept up her throat but she resolutely swallowed it. This wasn't her fault, she thought numbly. No, that privilege belonged to someone else. "How could you do it?" She whispered, sickened to look at the man she had once praised. "We trusted you… Claire trusted you."
"If you knew that you could stop a disaster with the sacrifice of one person, would you?"
Rachel felt sick once again. His words reminded her of creatures from Star Trek, a program her ex-boyfriend forced her to watch. This man was a Borg. A race that was willing to destroy the lives of the few to perfect the lives of the many. Though the logic was obvious, it had no merit in their society. "You had no right to make that choice!" She hissed, feeling incredibly disgusted.
"I am sorry for the lost of your friend, but believe me when I say that it was for the greater good."
What constitutes as the greater good? Rachel wondered as the man sat calmly finishing his cup of tea. "There were forty seven passengers on that plane. Not to mention the flight's crew! You killed them all!"
"I didn't kill them!" Mr. Malkin retaliated, his voice grew with emotion. His pale eyes were intense and bored into her. "The airplane crashed, it was inevitable."
"You could have stopped the flight. You could have tried." Rachel protested as tears of frustration fought to break her voice. She knew that her voice was verging on whiney, reminiscent of the days when she was younger and would whine and cry until she got her way. All Rachel wanted to do was to stomp her foot and cry until Malkin was forced to bring Claire back.
"Ah yes…" Mr. Malkin sarcastically pondered, mimicking the pose of the Thinker. "The flight would stop and the engine would be checked all on the word of a psychic. Yes, I see how that would work."
"You could have kept her of the plane." Rachel bit back, feeling frustrated with his attitude. "You could have pretended that there was a bomb or something… anything."
"What's done is done, I can't stay I'm proud of what I did, but it had to be done."
Rachel gaped at the man, unable to understand how he simply shrugged off the matter. "What's done is done?" She repeated, as if hoping to change the meaning by repeating it over again. "What if I did something?" She said dangerously as jumbled up thoughts formed in her head. "What if I went to the papers, told them everything! They'd lock you up! Put you away for ever!" Her voice was ranging on hysterical now; there was no way to calm her down. How could she calm herself when every day that she went to work at Fish 'n' Fry Claire's absence became harder to deal with? Claire was her family.
"Who would believe you?" Malkin questioned tiredly as he made abstract patterns in the spill drops of his tea. "The best you could hope for is a tabloid article run alongside a Loch Ness sighting."
"But…why?" Rachel cried out, she knew the answered. She feared it, but she wanted to hear him say it.
"Don't you understand that I put her on the plane so that she could die? Do not believe for an instant that it was not a difficult choice to make. It is a choice that I will forever live with." The psychic pleaded, looking at her desperately for forgiveness.
"So because it was a difficult choice I should walk away and forgive you? Simply forget that my best friend was killed in a plane crash."
Mr. Malkin stood up abruptly and turned away, his hands shook as he gathered his tea cup and saucer. The only evidence to his suppressed emotions. Rachel heard a slight whisper as he put his things in the sink, something that confused her to no end.
"What do you mean 'perhaps'?" She inquired fiercely stalking over to the man. "What do you mean?" She demanded once more, grabbing his wrist.
"I do not know, I can't see her anymore. She's passed my sight."
Rachel recalled her first meeting with the man, months before she ever decided to take Claire, when he had calmly explained to her how his foresight worked.
"…It is something like a fine mist that clouds my eyes, blinding me but at the some moment making me more aware. It all depends on the individual, for some I can see only the outlines of events, but with others it becomes like a blurry television show…"
"So you can see everything?" Rachel had asked feeling slightly embarrassed. The last thing she wanted the man to see was the night she had just had with Justin.
"Only until there is an inference. This usually happens almost immediately."
"Inference? Caused by what?"
"Different things." The man said evasively, he spoke no more on the subject and focused on her tarot reading.
"How far did you see?" Rachel asked she gripped his wrist more tightly. The man looked at her surprised, stunned by her strength.
Mr. Malkin used his free hand to wipe off the moisture that beaded on his forehead. "I paid a stewardess to ensure that Claire had a seat on the plane." The man said slowly, as if restaging the moments in his head. Rachel felt the bile rise again as he recounted Claire's final moments on solid ground. "When I saw the plane take-off… Everything began to shift and cloud."
"And?" Rachel questioned.
The man pulled his arm away from Rachel, and shoved her backwards. "I want you to leave."
"What happened?"
"Leave."
"Please." Rachel pleaded as the man pushed her to the door. Trying to wrestle her outside. "I have to know."
The man leaned on his doorframe, absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the wood. He seemed to debate what he was going to say. "I made a mistake." He seemed to be speaking to himself. "Everything changed."
Rachel felt her heart plummet to the ground, conflicting emotions fought within her. Each desperate to voice their opinion. Rage and fury over the fact that the psychic had made a mistake in his sending Claire away, and a strange sort of hope when she realized that he had mentioned that everything had been altered.
Mr. Malkin went to shut the door, but Rachel snaked her foot to block its closure. "One more question." She pleaded desperate to know if Claire somehow, miraculously survived. One lone survivor that could rise from the wreckage, Claire could be a phoenix. Rachel wished desperately, selfishly, that Claire could be saved. Even if the rest had to die, just so Claire could be saved it would be worth it… Rachel stopped her thoughts, sickened that she sounded like the man who stood before her. Claire was died, wasn't she?
Mr. Malkin seemed to read her thoughts and he shook his head slowly. "I already told you, she has past from my sight. Her fate was set in motion the moment the plane took off." He kicked her foot away from the door, but before he closed it he looked at her one last time. "Pray that she has died."
The door slammed shut.
Rachel stood on his porch, unable to move. Tears coursed down her face but she made no move to stop them. She staggered off the porch as if each step caused her monumental pain. Her throat felt dry and her stomach felt nauseous. She leaned over, attempting to still the need to vomit.
After closing her eyes and taking several deep breaths she felt slightly less dizzy. She moved to stand but a small slip of paper stuck under her shoe caught her eye. She shakily bent over once again picked up the small paper. It was a ticket for the Annual Astrology Lotto. A sign, her sign, Capricorn had already been circled and lucky numbers picked out.
You will have great success, great happiness, and great riches.The promise of her first reading floated back to her. Great betrayal, Rachel amended in her head. Great sadness.
She threw up in his flowerbed.
End