Summary: Claire has a dream, then sees Boone one last time. Takes place prior Dues Ex Machina.
Characters: Claire, Boone.
Pairings: Claire/Boone friendship.
Distribution: lost-forum
Disclaimer: Don't own them, don't sue.
Feedback: Completely necessary if you want the next part.
Warning: Heavy angst, weird dreams and cursing god.

Note: OK, to make this chapter clear, as Boone dies in Do No Harm I am wrapping the story up. I felt the angst was necessary to leave Claire in a heavy place after his death.PlusI wanted to use to UK Promo ad.:pI have two more parts written up, Do No Harm and The Greater Good, and once I get my reviews, I'll post them at the same time because Do No Harm is very short and I feel it'd be unfair to leave you hanging after it. It's more of a tie-in between Dues Ex Machina and The Greater Good. You guys have been great, and I appreciate all your support.

She knew she must be dreaming as soon as she saw his clothes. It was so blatantly obvious in the way his sleeves were rolled up, in the truth that he always wore fancy Converse sneakers but now he was wearing fancy black loafers, and in the fact that he was wearing a goddamn vest.

She was sure she looked just as ridiculous, especially judging what some of the other females were wearing. She was surprised to see almost everyone she knew personally on the island in her dream. Jack, Kate, Hurley, Shannon, Charlie.

Charlie.

He looked mighty cute in his yellow shirt and slightly silly eyeliner, but Claire just couldn't seem to stray from Boone, and she wondered if this was a sign. She had always believed in signs. It had stormed for days before her father left her.

When their hands entwined, she felt the electricity pulsing between them and wondered if it was them or the island. She sure as hell knew that if she was back home, she would never be able to get the attention of such a beautiful man. And he was beautiful. Men like Sawyer and Jack were handsome. Men like Charlie and Hurley were cute. But men like Boone were beautiful. It was in his eyes, in his body. But it wasn't just physical. His soul was beautiful too.

And as they swayed at what seemed the perfect pace, they didn't speak. They knew that they didn't need words to describe this moment, this one perfect moment. So Claire didn't tell him how she almost loved him and Boone didn't tell her how she was more than a sister to him than his own. In that moment, they were two dancers brought together by fate and that was all she needed.

But then she was alone, back on a piece of the fuselage, and he was dancing with Sayid and Shannon and she had no one. She couldn't help but feel envious at the way he dipped Shannon with practised ease, at the way he moved with her, but she would never say anything, would never even think to embarrass either of them in such a way.

And then she was awake, back in reality, and Claire couldn't help the way her heart thumped as she remembered the dream as if she was watching it on one of those large hi-def televisions she'd seen in the stores but never been able to afford.

"Claire."

And he was there, right there, staring at her as pale as a bleached sheet and she wondered if he had been watching her sleep. She hadn't seen his since she almost kissed him and she wanted desperately to brush his lips with her fingertips but didn't want to scare him away so she barely resisted.

"I missed you," she choked out, and she realised she was cold. She wanted to be wrapped up in him, wanted his arms wrapped around her but settled for pulled her jacket on instead.

He had the decency to look ashamed, but didn't apologise for avoiding her for the past few days.

"I was busy," was his explanation and Claire wondered why he didn't care enough to fake a good excuse.

Then, he was shifting uncomfortably in his seat and glancing nervously around and she was just wishing he'd spit out what he was obviously desperate to say so she stared at him. She stared and he sweated and they were both wishing the other one would talk.

It must of become apparent that Claire was not going to start the conversation because the next thing she knew, Boone was beside her and holding her hand and she felt the same electricity that she felt in the dream and she wondered if he felt the same.

"I think we need to rethink our friendship."

And apparently he didn't feel the electricity because he was breaking her heart. Or maybe he did and he was scared, but either way she could still feel her heart tear little by little. And maybe he did feel the electricity and maybe he was scared because she swore she saw the fear in his eyes for a moment, just a flicker, but she didn't want to think about that flicker, about that fear because if she did, she would want to kiss him again and apparently that was the wrong thing to do.

"Maybe you should go," she whispered, and then she knew she must've seen fear before because now he was sad and she could literally feel the pain leaking from him. She wanted to kiss it all away, to tangle her hands in his hair and smell the salt of his skin, but she couldn't because she knew he didn't want it, not really. He didn't want petite blonde with large bellies, he wanted tall blondes with long legs and she couldn't be that for him.

But then his head was nestled in her hair, and her neck was damp and she could feel his body racking with sobs. So she did tangle her hands in his hair and she did smell the salt of his skin, and it was nice, but she wanted more. And because she wanted more, he was pulling away and wiping his eyes instead of letting her kiss away his tears and she knew the circumstances just weren't damn right.

"You weren't supposed to fall in love Claire," he whimpered and she knew this was goodbye, that somehow she would never see him again, and that thought alone scared her to death.

"But I did," Claire urged frantically, wanting to hold onto him for as long as she could, "and I don't regret a single moment of it." And he was smiling, but it was sad and self-pitying and she wanted to slap it of his goddamn face because he looked so beautiful.

"But you don't even remember our moments," he whispered and then, he was gone. And she was left to clutch her stomach, all alone.