This one was difficult. I started out with two rules: All scenes are two on two, and all scenes are Hurley on Somebody. Above all, this story is meant to be Hurley centric. However, this meant that I couldn't show Charlie and Claire doing what they do here. So, without further ado, I present the first split chapter. Also, if you look closely, I've been trying to do this same thing subtly all along to prepare. Just thought I'd give you a heads up.
Hurley woke up, and felt around for his jar of ranch dressing. Then, he remembered. Dave. Libby. The part of the jungle he'd ruined with salted food all over the ground. The food drop. The cliff. The kiss. The first visit with Charlie, after all that. That was a long day.
Then the second visit after he'd ditched making Bernard's sign to see what a certain blonde clinical psychologist was up to. He still had to apologize to the guy for that. . .
The third visit, when he was double tasking between the date with Libby and having feelings with Charlie.
Which brought up the fact that she hadn't come back with those blankets. Oh well, Hurley thought. She probably got drafted onto button duty.
But she'd be back by now, wouldn't she?
Dude, there's no way she booked. It's a desert island!
There's always someone more important than you, Hurley. Face it.
Dude, shut up!
Hurley wasn't a morning person. He lumbered out of his hut, put on the same shirt he'd worn the day before, and went to get his morning dose of sugar from some cereal and UHT. He was pouring the milk onto the no name cocoa puffs, when another blonde crept up behind him.
"Good morning, Hurley!" Claire said chipperly. God damn morning people, he thought.
"Hey, Claire," he replied tiredly.
"Ooh, you look like hell," she gasped as she took down Dharma Bran Flakes with Sugared Raisins. "Late night? I know I had one."
"What was up with you?" he muttered.
"Well," she said, taking down the milk and setting it on the table next to the spoon and bowl, "preparing to see Charlie again, emotionally. It's. . ." Here her chipper facade cracked. "It's not as easy as I thought, but I think I can say what I need to say and get it over with. What's troubling you?" she asked, returning to her cereal.
"Have you seen Libby around, anywhere?" he asked suddenly.
"Uhh, no? Sorry," she sighed.
"Damn," he muttered as he turned to sulk away.
"Hurley?"
He turned to look at her, standing there all cute and innocent with her tiny bowl of raisin bran. "Yeah, Claire?"
"When. . ." she faltered, then approached him to speak softer. "When we're. . . Oh, there's no polite way to say this, but I have to, so I'll just. . . Could Charlie and I visit. . . alone?"
No one in the history of the English language has spoken a better word. "Yeah, sure," he said out loud. He paused a moment before continuing. "Listen, it's been a rough two days, so, sorry if my normal non-morning self is crabbier than usual."
"It's okay," Claire reassured him. "We all have bad days."
"Thanks." He started to walk away again, before he turned back. "You sure you haven't seen Libby?"
Claire merely shrugged and said, "Sorry."
"It's okay." With that, he walked back to his hut.
Claire watched him go, sad and hunched over. For a moment, she felt a bit of pity for the big guy, all stood up and sleepless. Maybe I'll make him a card, or something. . . she thought. He did get me talking to Charlie again. . . not that that matters. . . oh, bugger. She began walking back to her tent to feed Aaron and laze about in the sun.
It was a few hours later that Claire spotted Hurley walking up the beach again, staring about aimlessly. She sat up straighter, and tried to swim out of the nap her mind had been on the verge of. "Hey, Hurley," she called cheerily.
"Hey yerself," Hurley replied, still grumpy with a touch of irritation and worry in his voice. He paused to look at her quizzical features again before continuing, "Sorry, no one's seen Libby since she went to get the blankets."
"Oh," she sighed, her features falling. "I hope she's okay."
"She should be fine," he reassured her. "She's resourceful."
"Hm. So are you here to take me to wherever Charlie is these days?" she asked, standing with her hands on her hips, the baby between them.
"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled. "Pass the baby." He held out his arms for Aaron as Claire passed him along.
"Can you wait a sec?" Claire turned and started rummaging around in her travel bag. About halfway down, she said "Ah!" and packed both into a small bag alongside the bag full of baby stuff. "Okay, we can go."
Somewhere, down beneath the irritation, the worry and the bad day, Hurley's heart was tickled. "Is that the–?"
"Shush!" Claire said emphatically. "And before you finish that, yes, it is, so can we go?"
Claire and Hurley arrived at the Church-in-Progress after 20 minutes. They both said Hi to Eko, they both rounded the corner, but Hurley rounded it first. "Hey, dude," he said. "I got your carryons," he said, holding up the baby, "and your baggage," he finished, motioning to Claire.
Claire's features had become noticeably slack and cold. "Hi, Charlie."
Upon seeing how Claire looked at him, Charlie said with equal tone and emphasis, "Hi, Claire."
It was an awkward silence before Hurley attempted to speak. "Well, aren't we a cheerful bunch." At this, they all shared a laugh. "Well, I'm gunna book. You guys are. . . yeah." After that, Hurley walked away once more, leaving the baby in Charlie's arms.
"Well," Charlie said.
"Yeah," Claire said.
"We're–"
"–here, yeah." Claire paused for a moment, and considered what she should say.
However, Charlie beat her to the punch. "What's in the bag?"
"Well," she said teasingly, "first there's Dharma Initiative Oreos. . ." She pulled them out from her bag with her left hand, slowly. "And then I figured the only way to enjoy Oreos. . ." she said, twitching her right arm glacially out from inside, "is with the one jar of peanut butter Hurley saved for us," she finished, revealing it to him.
His eyes dropped open, then he closed them abruptly as he looked away. He let out a short breath and said, "that's a hell of an olive branch to be waving," without meeting her eyes.
"This is a hell of a relationship we had," she said. "Followed by a hell of a fight. I figured that hell-of-a situations require hell-of-a measures." Meanwhile, she'd sat down beside him and opened the Oreos. "Have you ever tried Oreos and peanut butter?"
"I've tried a lot of things–"
"Chinese wheelbarrow?" she interjected.
"–but I haven't tried Oreos and peanut butter, no," he finished. "But who hasn't done the Chinese Wheelbarrow? I mean, that one and missionary, all I know."
"No way!" she yelled. "You, rock god of all that is imaginable, only know two?"
"Well, uhh–"
"I'm a house-girlfriend! I know more than I can count with my socks and shoes off!"
"Did it occur to you that I was kidding?" he asked patiently.
Claire awkwardly held her breath. After a moment she let out a quiet "Oh."
Charlie burst into warm laughter. At the sound of his dad's voice, Aaron cooed and giggled. "Oh!" Charlie said, "it seems I may have missed you, little one. You been a good boy for your mum?" Aaron cooed and babbled in response.
"I think he likes you," Claire whispered.
"Did you just figure that one out now?" Charlie whispered back.
"You shush. I'm just saying what needs to be said."
"You mean what you need to say."
"Yeah."
"Then say you like me."
Claire was completely taken aback at this. "Pardon?"
"I said, 'Then say you like me'," Charlie clarified.
"I don't think–It's not–Oreo?"
"Wow. Delicious topic change," he said taking an Oreo from the box. "See what I did there?"
"I see what you did there," she agreed, opening the peanut butter and taking off the aluminum plastic layer. "Now, all you have to do is dip it in. . ."
"Alright. . ." Charlie awkwardly maneuvered around the baby, dipping the whole Oreo into the top of the jar. Cautiously, he took the peanut butter heaped cookie into his mouth. Suddenly, his face exploded in wide-eyed pleasure. "Oh my GOD! This is a hell of a lot better than any wheelbarrow of any nationality! This is orgasmic! Claire, you really gotta try thi–Oh." Charlie's face fell adorably when he realized Claire introduced him to this treat.
"Just like any other first-timer," she said, taking an Oreo from the box, coating it in peanut butter and biting off half. She moaned in pleasure, then went to dip the other half again.
"Hey, hey, whoa!" he said hurriedly. "You can't double dip that!"
"But Charlie," she said with her eyes open wide, "you don't really mind if it's me, do you?" She slowly dipped the cookie in the velvety surface of the peanut butter, and even more slowly took it back to her mouth, breaking off a tiny chunk in her lips and closing her eyes in rapture. Then Charlie realized that her moving slowly was actually just his mind being unable to comprehend what he was picking up on. Charlie? Earth to Charlie? Hi, it's Ms. Littleton, looking for Mr. Pace? Oh, he isn't in, I'll come back another time."
Charlie shook his head side to side and blinked a couple times. "Uh, yeah, I'm here, don't worry." He smiled his best 'I-am-so-fully-cognizant' smile at her, and started playing with Aaron again.
A rather uneventful twenty or so minutes later, Claire asked, "Was Hurley supposed to come back? To pick me and Aaron up?"
"I dunno what he told you, but I haven't heard anything," Charlie said, rocking Aaron back and forth.
"Hm." She looked around, dipping another Oreo and placing it on her tongue. Charlie watched–scratch that, stared–as she broke it off into her mouth. "That is strange," she added finally, turning back to a Charlie who had his eyes focused on the jar in front of him. Course, she could tell he was looking. Not that she didn't care. Cared. Damn. "In any case, I think I have to get going."
"By yourself?" he asked, taking another peanut butter laden cookie into his mouth.
"Looks like," she said reluctantly, beginning to pack up her stuff. "Kinda drags, cos I was hoping to see him again. . ."
"So you didn't have to carry all of this?" he remarked casually, handing her Aaron, filling her arms.
"Yeah, a little. . ."
"Cos you don't have to you know. I could get some of it," he sneaked.
"Oh, Charlie, you don't have t–"
"Bollywockies," he said, grabbing the two bags, one containing the food, the other with nappies and other necessities. "Shall we?"
"I guess. . ." she caved, as they walked back to her tent, Charlie with a smile on his face and Claire cringing at the talk to come.
Charlie set Claire's stuff down by her tent, watching Claire lean over to put the baby back into the crib. The sun was just about to dip over the horizon as they stood there. He briefly wondered why all dramatic moments on this island happened around sunset. Then dismissed the thought. "So, this is where we are."
She stood stiffly to respond to him, the last time she'd thought that fresh in her memory. She faced away from him, unwilling to show him the emotion in her eyes. "Charlie, I have something difficult to say to you. But it has to be said if we're ever going to live on this island."
Charlie's face fell, disappointment setting in. All of Hurley's work, gone. For nothing. "Claire, you don't have to–"
"I do, Charlie, so SH!" She still hadn't turned around, as the tears fell, clumping the sand between her toes. "It needs to be said. And, it's tearing me up inside, because I can't bear to think of what I'm doing to Aaron, or myself, or you by feeling this way."
"I understa–"
"No, I assure you, you don't." Her hands clenched into fists, her eyes screwed shut against the feeling. "You don't know what it's like to do this. It's hard, but I have to." Claire turned to finally face Charlie fully, but his eyes were focused on the ground beneath her, at her feet. Her bare feet. His eyes slowly traveled upward. . .
"It's something that's taken a while for me to realize I felt. . ."
Her knees. . .
"And it's something that, deep down, I know is right."
Her stomach. . .
"So, here it is."
Her face.
"Come home, Charlie. We need you here."
He blinked once. He blinked twice. He frowned, and tried to work out what she'd just said in his brain. Come home. We need you. No, that's not. . . Come home. "You're–?"
"Of course, I'm sure, Charlie! You don't get that angsty a buildup if I'm not, now do you?" she cried, smiling and running to hold him again and smell him again, and feel his skin under her hands.
"Gimme a second, I think I'm in shock," he replied dazedly. Neither of them were aware that there was now a ring of onlookers around the camp, attracted by the drama at the tent so near the fire. "I thought you were about to–you know, gimme the boot."
Claire pulled back from his chest, her eyes red and cheeks wet. "Doofus," she said, looking him frankly in the eye. The applause and shouts all around them went unnoticed too.
He pulled her close, placing his head on her shoulder, his mouth next to her neck. He swallowed a giant lump in his throat, and said, "I love you."
"I love you too, Charlie," she said into his ear. "Come on, let's get to bed. It's been a long day."
"It has," he complied, shambling to her sheet, as she drew the tarp around her shelter. "I mean, the only thing that's missing is if somebody died," he wisted, taking off his shoes and socks.
"Yeah," she agreed lazily, taking off her clothes and changing into her sleep wear: an old tank top and the underwear she was wearing that day.
"So," he said, now in his underwear, "no sex?"
"Nah, not in the mood." She crawled between her sheets and felt his arms wrap around her now empty mid-section.
"Good, cos I don't think the rest of the people who saw us get into this shelter together would appreciate the noise," he quipped, shutting his eyes for sleep.
She moaned as she turned over to face him with her eyes open. "I'm not that vocal, am I?"
His eyes sprang open to regard her angelic features in the twilight. "Steve and Tracy told us to keep it down once."
"Only cos I yelled at them."
"True. Anyway," he said, his eyes closing, along with hers, "g'night, space monkey."
"Space monkey?" she jolted, eyes opening.
"Listen, do you want to sleep or talk all night?"
"Sleep would be nice," she said, her eyes shutting again.
"Then goodnight, space monkey."
"Mm. Night, spaceman spiff."
It wasn't until midnight that Charlie awoke to a rapping on the tarp.