Track #2 – Wave Goodbye To The People On The Raft, TurnipHead

It was a momentous day, the day the launched the raft. It had finally stopped raining, the sun was shining, and the ocean was bluer than it had ever been. Hope rode on the waves that swelled in the distance, a hope for a resuce most had long forgotten. The group of castaways followed their little ship up the beach, until it had sailed away into the distance.

All was quiet after that. The excitement of the launching hung thick in the air, though no one really knew what to do. What could they do? It was like their first few days on the island. An uncertain awkwardness fell over the people, and they slowly made their trek up the beach and into the woods to the caves like Jack had told them to.

Claire, however, was not so eager to move from where she stood. Feet lodged firmly in the sand, TurnipHead curled safely in her arms. Charlie stood beside her,

"Wave goodbye to the people on the raft, TurnipHead," he whispered.

"You really think this is going to work, Charlie?" Claire asked. There was a quiver in her voice, and Charlie knew she was uncertain.

"Of course it'll work!" she looked up at him and he realized how fake that sounded. Clearing his throat, he tried again, "I mean, I'm sure they'll find help. Micheal said we should be close to a shipping lane," that didn't help much, "And that thing's built like a bloody rock. Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she stared off into the sea again, shifting TurnipHead in her arms.

"You two coming or not?" It was Sayid. Backpack in tow, he was rounding up the last of the survivors so they could hike up to the caves.

"In a second," Claire brushed him off. Charlie nodded to Sayid a little note of 'I'll take care of this,' and he left.

"You're worried,"it was bothering him, the way she was just standing there, eyes fixed on that invisible place in the distance that he just couldn't seem to pick out.

"What's there to be worried about?" her voice was thick with her accent, "We're stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere, we just put four of our people on a raft in the middle of the ocean, there's a french lady in the woods, and the people who want my baby are coming back," with that last bit, her voice cracked, and TurnipHead started to cry.

"Shh, shh," Charlie scooped the baby out of her arms and began to rock him, "C'mere, love, sit down," she gratefully collasped on the soft sand, knees pulled to her chest. Charlie reached over and brushed a few hairs out of her eyes, "Now, now, no need to cry," he smiled, "The little one worries when his mommy cries," but TurnipHeads wails had ceased.

"Charlie, what happens if no one comes?" she sniffed loudly, "What happens if we're here forever?"

"Then we'll..." he thought about this for a second. Even though he, too, had lost hope for a rescue, the thought of what would happen if they weren't found never crossed his mind. TurnipHead would have to grow up on this island, amongst the ocean and the jungle. Claire would never see her family again, he would never be a rock star. What would the do?

"We'll...well, we'll live," he nodded, an ephiphany settling in,"we'll live. Here, on the island. You, and me, and TurnipHead," she looked up at him again, "And the others, of course." His cheeks burned at his mistake, "Jack will teach him how to read, and Locke will teach him how to hunt. He'll take his first steps in the sand, and play with Walt, and Sayid and Shannon's kid," she was looking out to sea, and he could feel that he was losing her again. He brought a hand to her cheek and brought her view back to his face, "And he'll grow up strong, like his mum."

"I'm not strong, Charlie," she mumbled. TurnipHead took a hold of the finger she was using to stroke the blanket he was wrapped in.

"Claire, sweetheart, you survived a plane crash!" he exclaimed, a little too loudly. He was shocked that she would think something like that, "You were kidnapped, and you came back to me," cough, coverup, "To us! You gave birth in the jungle! And now you're taking care of a little boy, in the middle of nowhere, you can't tell me that you're not strong."

There was a silence. TurnipHead cooed, the waves crashed, and the trees swayed.

"Do you promise?"

He barely heard her the first time.

"Do you promise me, Charlie,"

"Promise you what, love?"

"That we'll live here," she moved her hand from her baby to his, "You and me and TurnipHead?"

Charlie grinned, "Of course, love," and finally, she smiled, "Anything for you,"

Claire seemed a little brighter with this. A little more hopeful. She took the baby from his arms and stood up.

"Now, shall we be off to the caves?" He put an arm around her waist and led her up the beach, "I made you something,"