Disclaimer: Anything in here that you recognize from LOST isn't mine. Just having fun.
Timeline: After the episode "Fire + Water"
A/N: From Charlie's POV. Major angst. I'm new to writing LostFic, so please Read and Review! Let me know what you think of it. Constructive comments extremely welcome.
His Most Treasured Possesion
by Xedra
No one would look him in the eye anymore. There were only wary glances that darted away as soon as he noticed them.
No one believed him. They all assumed it was the heroin, thanks to Locke. Heroine he didn't use, was never going to use, but no one would believe that, either.
He knew they all watched him. He could feel their eyes on him all the time, everywhere he walked, lest he stray too close to Claire's tent. They waited to see if he'd try to take the baby again.
He wouldn't. He wouldn't hurt Claire like that again. Never again. Not even to save the child he loved and thought of as his own son. He loved her too much to put her through such pain again. Claire and Aaron had so many protectors now, he was no longer needed. No longer wanted.
He went to Sawyer to trade his guitar for supplies. Sawyer was rendered speechless for several moments, momentarily drawing up empty on his well of sarcastic comments. Charlie would have felt rather proud of this accomplishment, but he was too busy trying to calm the emotions churning inside him. Chief among them were panic and heartbreak. The instrument was precious to him, the last link to his past, to the real world, to his brother.
But he hadn't been able to touch it for days, remembering how he'd played it for Aaron to lull him to sleep. How he'd played it for Claire, to bring out that amazing smile of hers. One of his greatest joys, that smile.
He also remembered when he'd been reunited with his beloved guitar, when Locke had been his friend. Thinking of that day also made him want to break the instrument across the bald man's teeth, so perhaps it was better not to have it around.
Charlie's hands almost refused to let go when Sawyer took the guitar from him. Sawyer noticed this and raised a brow, asking if he was sure he wanted to do this and quipping that all sales were final. Charlie gave him a dark look and turned to look over the stash.
As he gathered extra clothes, a small knife and other things, he heard Sawyer hesitantly plucking at the strings. Charlie paused and listened. After a few moments, he nodded to himself. Sawyer could play, but he was very rusty.
When Charlie had all he needed gathered in his arms, he turned back. Sawyer's fingers continued to strum as he ran his eyes over the items Charlie held, then nodded to indicate the trade was complete and turned his attention back to the guitar.
Then Charlie heard the baby cry. The need to go and comfort Aaron tore at him fiercely and he screwed his eyes shut, unable to move until the cries subsided, soothed by Claire's sweet crooning.
He looked from Sawyer to the direction of the cry and back, considering. Sawyer still read to Aaron occasionally, when all else failed to get him to sleep. It gave him an idea.
It took some convincing, but Sawyer finally agreed to learn the song Charlie had written for his brother and play it for the baby, but only if Claire was comfortable with it. Charlie could tell that Sawyer thought that was only reason he was parting with his most treasured possession in the first place. Charlie let him go on thinking that.
It took several hours, but it finally all came back to Sawyer and his fingers flew over the strings with ease, much to the interest of the others around camp. Ignoring the attention they were gathering, Charlie taught him the song, which Sawyer picked up quickly.
Listening to the song that was so dear to his heart rise from his guitar, he felt a load lift from his chest. Aaron would hear it, hopefully learn it one day, and the song would stay in the family. His family.
Satisfied, he took his supplies and walked away without a word, past all the curious, confused stares until he stood in front of Claire's tent. She was holding the baby, swinging him from side to side in the sling he'd made. He was several yards away, but still he could see Kate edging her way closer to the young mother.
He stared at Claire, that silly hat on her head to block the sun, her golden hair dancing over shoulders in the breeze. So beautiful. Even from a distance he could see her big blue eyes, the caution in them, the confusion. He burned a picture of her in his mind, then turned away.
That night, Charlie took all his things and walked into the jungle. He never came back.
FIN