Chapter 1: Happy Beginnings
Disclaimer: Not mine!
SUMMARY: After the castaways are rescued from the island, Charlie and Claire look forward to starting life anew with little Aidan. But will the stresses of everyday life tear apart what was built so securely in the tropical sand?
RATING: R, for sexual allusions, language and mentions of drug use
CHARACTERS: Charlie/Claire, Hurley, Shannon, mentions of the others
NOTES:
This is an answer to my "Roxette to the Rescue!" challenge at charlieclaire on LJ. The challenge required the author to write a C&C fic (featuring Hurley) that incorporated lyrics from the Roxette song "Spending My Time" into the dialogue. This was SUPPOSED to be a quick one-shot, but morphed into an enormous, multi-chaptered epic. LOL! I hope you'll read it nonetheless, and please leave me some feedback if you like it. Thank you! Enjoy!
"And you know I'm going back,
Going back today.
Back to where I came from.
And you know I'm going back, Going back to stay…"
Roxette, "Pearls of Passion"
The first thing Charlie did upon setting foot on the mainland after two years on the island was fall to his knees and thank God. The second thing he did was raise his head to look for Claire. They'd been shuffled through all kinds of doctor's exams on the cruiser, and virus screenings, and press accolades, and he'd lost sight of her in the hubbub. But there she was, being hugged brutally by a rake-thin older woman with slender crow's feet around strikingly familiar blue eyes. Charlie knew immediately this was the unforgiving mother he'd heard so much about. Apparently distance truly did make the heart grow fonder, as she showed no sign of letting her daughter go anytime this century.
Charlie smiled as he watched them, then grinned broadly as little Aidan tugged on his mother's pants leg, raising his arms to be held. On the island he would have been snatched up in a second by any member of the castaways, but here, there were too many tall people looking at other tall people. No one had the presence of mind to glance down and see the little boy pouting by his mother's feet, face scrunching up, ready to cry.
Getting to his feet, Charlie jogged towards the reunion. "Hey there, cheeky," he soothed, sweeping Aidan up into his arms and crooking the fussing toddler on his hip. "Don't bother mummy right now, little fella, all right?" He stroked the little boy's downy blonde hair. "Mummy's saying hello to HER mummy."
"Charlie!" The voice was a little strangled, but it was Claire without a doubt. "Mum, this is Charlie. Mum…" She wrenched herself out of her mother's clawlike embrace, smiling sweetly and stepping back to stand beside Charlie. "Charlie, this is my mother, Elizabeth."
Charlie held out his free hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Littleton."
The older woman took his hand, wringing it madly. She was perhaps in her mid-40's, with angular features and dry, papery skin, leading Charlie to believe Claire had gotten her cherubic good looks from her father. But the eyes were identical. Brilliant blue, and at the moment, full of tears.
"Thank you," Claire's mother enthused. "Thank you for bringing my little girl home. Thank you!"
Charlie felt himself blushing. "Well… That wasn't me, really. It was more those chaps on the Golden Seagull. I just helped her pack."
Claire laughed, hugging his arm. "Charlie was with me on the island, mum," she explained. "He's been my closest friend all this time. And he's been like a father to Aidan."
Elizabeth's eyes turned to the little boy now, who had his head pillowed on Charlie's shoulder, a thumb in his mouth, watching the scene with sleepy eyes. "Aidan…" A teary smile lit up her face as she reached toward the little boy. "Hello, sweetie."
Charlie felt the little boy snuggle his face into his neck, obviously not in the mood for meeting strangers. "He's a little tired, I think," he explained at the older woman's hurt look. "He's had a long day."
Elizabeth nodded. "Yes," she said. "Yes. Yes, of course. I was a mother to a toddler once. I should remember what they're like." Fresh tears welled in her eyes. "Oh, Claire…"
Charlie just had time to share a grin with Claire before her mother had once again enfolded the younger woman in a tight, bone-crushing hug. Claire didn't fight it -- Charlie imagined it must be nice to feel so much love so soon after landing in Brisbane. Rubbing Aidan's back and rocking the little boy gently, his eyes scanned the horizon for any sign of Liam. There was none. Ah, well -- he was certain to turn up eventually. News traveled fast, but people weren't necessarily always there to hear it when it arrived. Besides, Claire was here, and Aidan. They were his family in more ways than just blood. They were enough.
"…and Aunt Annalee is coming up from Melbourne with Uncle Edgar and Great-Uncle Bruce," Mrs. Littleton was explaining to Claire, her hug never loosening. "And your cousins Sally and Derek are flying in all the way from Perth! I called them as soon as I heard the news. Oh, sweetheart!" Charlie saw Claire wince as her mother's embrace tightened even more.
"That's wonderful, mum," Claire soothed, rubbing her mother's back. "But you have to let me breathe, or I won't be able to meet them."
"I don't want to let you go! I did that once, and look what happened! I'm not going to make that mistake again. And I'm going to spoil my grandson rotten!"
Claire laughed, and Charlie could hear the tears in her voice. "Oh, mum…," she sighed, but Charlie knew from her tone that this approbation was the sweetest gift anyone could have given her.
"Wanna Hurley," Aidan mumbled in Charlie's ear, rubbing his eyes dreamily, distracting Charlie's thoughts.
"Hurley's not here right now, mate," Charlie explained gently, kissing the little boy's forehead. "He's going home."
"Wanna go home."
"I know, mate," Charlie soothed. "But you and mummy are going to a new home now, with your grandmummy. You'll love it there, I promise."
"Charlie gonna go?"
Charlie laughed quietly. "If your mummy will let me."
"What are you two chatting about over there?" Charlie looked up to see Claire pulling away from her mother for a second time, a huge grin on her face.
"He was asking about Hurley," Charlie explained.
"Aww… Hurley's going to visit his mummy and daddy, sweetie," Claire said with a soft smile. Holding out her arms, she asked, "Will my Aidan come visit his mummy?"
Sleepily, the little boy sat up and held out his arms to his mother. Claire eased him out of Charlie's hold, cradling the little boy close to her heart and humming softly next to his ear. Aidan's eyes closed immediately and he snuggled into his mother's embrace.
"Pretty as a picture in a palace parlor," Charlie murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing her temple.
"You always say that," she said, leaning her head against his chest.
"I always mean it."
"Even when I'm being a grouch?"
"Especially when you're being a grouch. You're beautiful when you're angry."
She laughed, elbowing him gently in the stomach. "Help my mother with our 'luggage,' idiot," she teased, nodding to where Elizabeth was struggling to gather all their miscellaneous belongings into manageable bundles. "Or she'll think you're a complete lout with no manners, and then good luck impressing her."
"Wouldn't want that, huh?" He grinned against her cheek, pecking her quickly on the lips before moving over to crouch beside her mother. "Let me take some of that, Mrs. Littleton," he offered genially, carefully taking some of the parcels from the older woman's arms. "Bloody island. Would you believe, after all these years, not a single piece of luggage survived? Not a sausage. They all fell apart after the first year. Pathetic, yeah? I've got pairs of underwear that've lasted me longer!" He paused, ignoring Claire's snort of laughter. "Yes, let's just forget I said that last bit, can we?"
Mrs. Littleton turned towards him, and he knew in an instant THIS was the woman who had given his Claire her megawatt smile. "Charlie, my daughter's home after two years of hell, and she's smiling. I have you to thank for that. Right now, you can do no wrong."
Charlie felt himself blushing. "Thanks," he said awkwardly.
"This is only a grace period, mind you. I make no guarantees past 90 days."
"Understood."
"Excuse me?" Claire spoke up. "Standing here, thank you very much."
"Do I get a lease with an option to buy?"
"CHARLIE!"
"We'll see what we can do."
"MOM!"
"Shhhhh, Claire, sweet, you'll wake the baby." Charlie winked at Mrs. Littleton, then stood, loaded down with packages. He awkwardly offered the older woman his arm. "I'm just being nice to your… sorry, you're Claire's sister, correct?"
"Oh, this one is a sweetheart, dear," Elizabeth said, accepting his proffered arm. "Where did you find him?"
"He followed me home," Claire grumbled, but Charlie saw the twinkle in her eye as she said it.
"Like a little lost puppy," he agreed as they began to walk towards the car park. "Woof."
Elizabeth laughed by his side, and he heard Claire giggle behind them. They were walking on tarmac for the first time in two years, he could smell french fries, and somewhere in the distance, a radio was playing techno rockabilly.
God, it was good to be home.
The spread was amazing, even by her mother's standards. Elizabeth Littleton had always been a gourmand, but Claire had NEVER seen anything like this on the supper table as a girl. There was everything from beef to bacon to salad to sandwiches to oranges to oatmeal to potatoes to-
"PEANUT BUTTER!" She couldn't resist a squeal of delight when she saw the not one, not two, but THREE jars of peanut butter sitting in a place of honor at the center of the table. "You remembered!"
"How could I forget?" her mother said, as Claire gaped in amazement. "You only asked me to buy you peanut butter every week as a child. I thought you might have missed it on the island. I couldn't remember which was your favorite, so I just bought one of everything they had. There's chunky, regular, and extra smooth."
Claire was going to cry. Again. She didn't know if she had the energy to do that AND hold Aidan, so she turned to Charlie with blurry eyes. "Take him?" she asked softly, voice slightly choked.
Charlie smiled tenderly and nodded, gently lifting the sleeping boy out of his mother's arms. Claire was thankful he didn't ask if she was all right -- he knew she couldn't have said a word without bawling.
Moving over to the table, Claire reached into the peanut butter display and lifted out a jar. "Extra smooth," she read the label, and looked over her shoulder at Charlie, a huge grin plastered across her face. "Charlie…"
"Go on then, luv," he encouraged, smiling. "Not as good as I make, I'll warrant, but I imagine it'll get you by."
Claire grinned, biting her lip from sheer excitement. Directing her attention to the peanut butter jar again, she twisted the cap, pleased with how easy it turned thanks to the strength and muscle tone of her arm, sculpted by the difficulties of island life. When she lifted the lid off, the smell almost knocked her out -- it was like heaven in a jar. If she had died right then and there, she would have gone a happy woman.
But the smell was nothing compared to the taste.
Ignoring the various cutlery arrayed on her mother's table linens, Claire dug a finger deep into the thick, creamy peanut butter, extracting a sizable chunk of the spread and sticking it unceremoniously in her mouth. Oh, God… BLISS. It was as if someone had read her mind and made peanut butter taste EXACTLY as she remembered it, hyperbole and all. She would have stood there sucking the stuff off her finger for another hour or more if she hadn't heard Charlie clear his throat. When she opened her eyes to look at him -- finger still in her mouth -- she could see in his eyes what he was thinking: Sweet, you'd best get that finger out of your mouth because it's getting a bit obscene, and your mother's here, and so's your son, and really, shouldn't you save that for LATER? wink, wink
Popping the finger out of her mouth, she sighed heavily, body sagging as if a great weight had been lifted from her chest. "That was the best moment of my entire life," she breathed, slumping down into a chair and cuddling the peanut butter close to her heart. "I love you!"
"Me or the peanut butter, sweetheart?" Mrs. Littleton teased, kissing the top of her daughter's head. "Now you can't just sit there and eat only peanut butter all night. There's plenty of food here and I want it all gone by tomorrow before your Uncle Albert arrives and goes off his diet again. I… stayed away from seafood. I thought you might be tired of it."
Claire grinned at her mother. "Thank you," she said, with true gratitude. Then, as an afterthought, "Is there any pork?"
"Yes, sweetheart. Do you want some?"
"NO," Claire and Charlie said in tandem.
"Boar and bananas," Charlie explained at Mrs. Littleton's confused look. "Long story, but that's what it boils down to. Boar and bananas. All the time. With fish." He shivered. "I need beef."
"Well help yourself!" Claire's mother stood back, clutching her hands in front of her, as if worried that what she'd provided somehow wouldn't measure up to their expectations.
She was, of course, dead wrong.
Claire had never eaten so much in her life. Years on the island had shrunk their stomachs to far more manageable sizes than they'd been originally on the mainland, but somehow she and Charlie managed to stuff a bit of each and every thing on the table into their mouths. Aidan was perched on Charlie's lap, and when the little boy woke up somewhere into the second hour of the feast, Claire gave him a wedge of melon to suck and nibble on. She was unsure how best to introduce him to the rest of the foods that were weighing down the table; they were bound to be a shock to his young system, and she wasn't sure how to handle that. On the island she could have asked Jack, but now…
"Hey, you okay?" Charlie asked her, and Claire shook herself out of her reverie to meet his concerned eyes. She could hear her mother puttering around in the kitchen, washing dishes and generally babbling on about this relative and that news item. "You look… misty."
Claire smiled wistfully, reaching out to take his hand. "Did you ever think it would be scary, coming back to all this?" she murmured.
Charlie squeezed her hand, shifting the squirming Aidan in his lap. "Are you scared?"
"A little."
"Why?"
"Because. I don't know. I just don't… KNOW anyone anymore. That woman in there? That's not my mother. But she is. But she's NOT. My mother kicked me out for sleeping with my boyfriend ONCE. Now this mother is welcoming you in with open arms and basically begging you to sleep with me."
"Well, I'm not going to argue-"
"Charlie."
"Sorry, sorry. Keep going."
Claire sighed, rubbing her eyes. "On the island, I knew everyone. If I was sick, I could ask Jack. If Aidan was sick, I could ask Jack. If I needed to go fishing, I could ask Jin. If I needed a laugh, I could talk to Hurley. And I always had you, Charlie. But now… Everyone's gone. You know I didn't even get to say goodbye to any of them? We just left them behind, or they left us behind, or we all left each other. But… I don't WANT to leave them." She sighed again, frustrated. "I can't explain it."
Charlie squeezed her knee. "Hey," he soothed. "They're not gone forever, all right? We'll see them all again. And you've still got me, silly, in case you hadn't noticed. I've only been eating your poor mother out of house and home, or did you not see?"
Claire smiled weakly at his teasing. "No banoffee pie, I'm afraid," she said, laying her hand over his.
"I think I'll manage. I'll just eat a few more of those excellent crullers."
"You've had six!"
"There's a law against eight?" Claire laughed softly, then leaned forward to kiss him gently. "Mmmm," he moaned against her mouth as she pulled back. "Then again, I could just nibble on you for a few hours…"
Claire nuzzled his nose. "Are you ready for bed, champ?" she murmured, virtually purring. The lure of a coil-spring mattress was almost better than the peanut butter.
"Won't your mother mind?" he asked self-consciously.
"Charlie, we've been sleeping together for the better part of two years. You're my teddy bear and my blanket, all curled up in one. Trying to sleep without you is like trying to talk without breathing. Mum will understand."
"Understand what, sweetheart?" Claire looked up, blushing a little as her mother came into the room again, carrying a pitcher of lemonade. "Anyone for a drink?"
"No, thanks, mum," Claire spoke up, smiling. "Actually, Charlie and I were going to head to bed."
"Oh…"
"Is that… okay?" Tension was building in her stomach. Oh God, here it comes… The shouting match…
But instead, "Would you like a crib?"
Claire blinked. "What?"
Her mother nodded to Aidan, who was nodding off on Charlie's lap again. "For Aidan," she said, smiling. "I… brought yours down out of the attic when I heard you were coming home. I thought… if you'd had the baby, and he was fine, you might need it. And if you hadn't, or if he wasn't… Well, I could put it away again, and you'd never have known."
Claire felt tears in her eyes. "Mom… Thank you," she managed, a little choked up.
Her mother smiled tremulously. "You lived on that island," she said, shaky but firm. "You raised a beautiful little boy there. You met a wonderful young man there. I think you're grown up enough now to know what's best for yourself, and when your mother needs to butt out of your business so you can get on with living." She cupped her daughter's cheek and smiled. "I set the crib up in your old bedroom, sweetheart." She kissed Claire on the forehead. "Sweet dreams." Then she kissed Aidan's cheek, then -- quite unexpectedly -- the top of Charlie's head. "Sweet dreams," she repeated. "I'll clean up."
Claire didn't quite know what to say. Somehow she managed to get herself, Charlie and Aidan steered upstairs to her old bedroom -- still tricked out in bead curtains and Indian sarongs -- but she didn't remember one step of the journey.
"This is very you," Charlie said, wandering around the room with Aidan, taking it all in. Claire stood by the doorway, watching him explore, thinking how strange it was to see Charlie here touching her things. Things she hadn't touched herself in almost three years. And there in the corner, the white and yellow crib with the rainbow bolster she'd slept in that featured in so many of her childhood photographs.
"It's so… strange," she murmured, hugging herself and rubbing her arms. "When I moved in with Thomas, I thought for certain I'd never see any of this again. And now here I am, with you and Aidan, and it's like I never left."
"Let's not mention the T-word, all right?" Charlie said, sitting on the edge of her bed with Aidan asleep in his lap. The bed still wore her paisley comforter and matching pillow sham, and her mother had turned it down already, revealing cream-colored sheets beneath. "I want only sweet dreams tonight, not bad ones where I hit people and make them bleed and call them stupid prats."
Claire looked at the two of them. They were all wearing clothes that had been given to them when the Australian Navy took them off the Golden Seagull near Fiji to shuttle them back here to Brisbane. She had never seen Charlie in a crisp white t-shirt before today, and Aidan had been wearing an oversized t-shirt for so long, it seemed strange to see him in age-appropriate clothing. They'd even all gotten a bath -- a real bath, with hot running water and STEAM. Claire had scrubbed herself with a sponge till she was glowing and sparkling, and Aidan had been awed when she showed him how to turn on and off the faucet. He and Charlie were sitting there together on her bed, both looking so fresh and… NEW, surrounded by everything that had left such an indelible impression on her childhood. God, her mother hadn't even thrown out her lava lamp.
"Charlie…," she whispered, voice too choked to speak louder.
He held out a hand to her and she took it, letting him pull her docilely down beside him on the bed. "Shhh," he soothed as she leaned her head on his shoulder. He smelled like soap. She'd missed the smell of soap. "Let's put Aidan to bed then get ready ourselves, all right?"
She laughed tearfully. "I don't remember where any of my sleep things are," she said, pressing her face into his arm.
"Then I'll help you search for them. Here, you take Aidan. I'll look around."
She took the little boy and began to ease him out of his clothes, trying not to wake him. He must have been very tired, because he only woke up briefly as she settled him in his crib -- snugged into one of Charlie's new t-shirts -- but he quickly fell back to sleep when she hummed "Catch a Falling Star."
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him sleep, when she felt the mattress tilt and Charlie's hands on her back, gently lifting the hem of her white tank top. Closing her eyes, she let her head hang forward as his calloused fingers drifted across her bare lower back. "Any luck?" she asked, sighing with pleasure as he massaged the tension in her spine.
A lacy satin nightie dangled into view in front of her eyes. "I hope that's yours," he murmured near her ear. "Because if' it's someone else's, I might cry."
Claire laughed softly, enjoying the tickle of his beard against her cheek. "My friend Chloe gave it to me, to impress Thomas." She took the nightie from his hand, fingering it thoughtfully.
"Did it work?"
"I never wore it with him, so I don't know."
"Well good. That means you can christen it with me." His lips touched the back of her neck, the knob at the top of her spine, the curve of her shoulder…
Arching her back, Claire let him pull the white cotton tank off over her head, then let his hands turn her around on the mattress so she was facing him. His blue-green eyes were bright as he grazed his hand down the violin-curve of her side. "Ready for bed?" he asked.
She smiled and ran her thumb over the coarse stubble of his beard. "Very," she assured him.
Charlie smiled and kissed her nose. Sitting back a little, he yanked off his t-shirt and threw it aside. "Good," he murmured and kissed her again, deeper this time. Claire moaned into his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck and letting him pull her tight against his chest. When he stretched her out on the bed beneath him, she curled her leg around his waist -- something she'd almost never gotten to do on the island. It was too obvious a gesture, too likely to be seen by someone else in the caves and interpreted for what it was. The very fact of their relative privacy here was making her a little desperate.
"Easy, luv," Charlie breathed against her mouth as she strained against him. "We can't really do this properly with our pants on, now can we?"
"Then take them OFF," Claire demanded petulantly, reaching down to shove off her new cargo shorts, still creased down the sides and barely wrinkled.
Charlie laughed and rolled off her, unzipping his jeans and kicking them off down his legs. She rolled onto her side and grabbed hold of his boxers -- new and black -- and yanked them down before he could do it himself. "Hey!" he laughed, grabbing her hands and pulling her on top of him. "I know you want me, sweet, but you've got to go a little slower."
"Ooh, good idea," she cooed, grinning down at him. Rubbing herself against him, she reached behind her back and slowly unhooked her bra, new and shiny and STILL WHITE. With a groan of happiness, she let it fall away. "Very good idea…" she breathed, resting her forehead against his, her hair falling in a golden curtain around their faces.
Charlie's hands massaged her hips. "Isn't slow nice?" he murmured. Claire felt his fingers dip under the waist of her underwear -- utilitarian white cotton, but so NEW -- and she whimpered. "Slow is special." With tremendous care he began to work the panties off over her hips.
Claire let out a shaky breath as the cotton moved down her thighs. He stopped at her knees, coasting his hands back up her skin and kneading the tops of her thighs, where they angled into a V. She bit her lip, feeling her body tremble, and wiggled her legs until she could kick her underwear off and away over the side of the bed.
Slowly, Charlie rolled them over, and Claire gasped a little when he pulled away from her. "Where are you going?" she asked, as he propped himself up on his elbow.
"Nowhere," he said, resting his hand on her stomach and rubbing slow circles there. "I was just looking at you. It's been a while since I've seen you naked." He smiled, his eyes coasting up and down her body. "Thank God you love me, Claire, because I don't think I could stand it if I didn't get to have you like this, all to myself."
She giggled, stroking his arm. "Well you do get me," she assured him. "And unless you do something REALLY asinine, you always will."
"I'm prone to being asinine, so could you be more specific?"
"I'll let you know if you're ever close, all right?"
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"Mmm… Good." Leaning in again, he buried his face in her throat, sucking gently. Claire closed her eyes, tunneling her fingers through his hair. As he moved on top of her, she wrapped her legs loosely around his waist, sliding her hands down to splay against his back. A flick of his hand brought the blankets up, encasing the pair of them in a warm, secretive cocoon.
A sharp sigh later, and Claire decided she'd have to model the nightie for him another night.
To Be Continued…