Title: Obsession
Spoilers: up to 2x06, Abandoned
Original post date: 20th November 2005
Summary: When Charlie's love turns to obsession, Claire finds herself trapped in a never-ending cycle with only one way out.
Disclaimer: I promise I'm not writing this fanfiction to make any money and I don't mean to infringe on copyright – the plot bunnies simply attack and I relent.

She cries herself to sleep most nights as he holds her gently like she's something fragile, about to fall apart. He doesn't realise, never has realised, never will realise that he is the cause of her tears.

When he began sleeping with her she protested at first but gradually she became used to his presence and for a while it seemed okay, if she just pretended like he wasn't there it wasn't so bad.

The first night he reached over and touched her, her body began to tremble uncontrollably but she was unable to articulate any sort of protest and so he continued.

Slowly. Gently.

She wonders if it could be classified as rape, what he did to her that night, what he's done to her ever since – she didn't consent after all. But she didn't try and stop him either, just closed her eyes and pretended that it wasn't happening.

Sometimes she thought it would have been easier if he had been violent towards her, because then she would have had a reason to hate him. But no. He was always so careful with her, the way he touched her made her cry because she could feel that he loved her –she just couldn't seem to convince him that she didn't love him.

The others all began to worry, they all suspected what was going on, why she never smiled anymore, why she wrapped herself up in her own thoughts all the time. But as withdrawn as she became he still found a way to force his way into her life.

And then his love began to change.

Slowly at first, so she didn't notice until she looked back later. He slowly began to push everybody away from her, from them. He became jealous if she spoke to anyone or if anyone spoke to her and would herd them off and come back to her and smile and hold her hand.

It's okay. We'll be fine, just you and me. We don't need them.

But she did need them; she needed them all now more than ever because he was denying her having any contact with them. She pulled further away from him but he didn't realise, thinking that their silences were the deep and thoughtful kind that came with not needing to say anything anymore. The truth was that there was nothing to say.

They became worried again, more so than before, and people tried to go to her, talk to her, be with her. But he wouldn't allow it, herding them away fiercely. She stopped trying, and within a month he took over her life completely.

His jealousy continued to escalate; he hid her away in their shelter, selfishly keeping her for himself – away from people, from the world, from anything that might be detrimental to their fabricated love whilst she slowly faded away. She became thin and emaciated, her eyes hollowed and she stopped feeling. She felt like an ornament. Objectified. A brightly coloured bird snared in a cage.

He took to guarding her day in and out, bringing her food and drink and only letting her out to wash up twice a day, once in the early hours of morning, and again when almost everyone else was asleep. He wouldn't allow anyone to destroy this beautiful, perfect life he had built.

You're mine. You're mine and nobody else can have you. They don't understand what we've got – it's so beautiful what we've got, you and me.

She didn't know what to do. She had no way of escaping, he was always there watching her, and she couldn't seek help from anyone else, he had already had a brawl with one of the others who had smiled at her one day as he escorted her back into their shelter – nobody dared come near her now. In a way she found it funny that such a small man should have so much power over people who were smarter, stronger, more psychologically balanced than he was.

One day he disappeared for several hours. She dozed restlessly and waited for him to return. She had given up on any thought of escape by now but when he reappeared she was awake in an instant. He smiled at her and she offered him a bland smile in return but then she saw what he had in his hand, her face froze and she almost screamed.

'Where did you get that?' she whispered, surprised that her voice still worked after all her silence.

'I took it,' he sat down comfortably and snuggled into her, laying the gun at his side. 'I need to protect you. I've heard the others talking – they want to take you away from me – but I won't let them. Don't you understand? It's not to kill them – I just want to scare them, just want to threaten them. I love you. I won't let them take you away from me.'

She tried to draw away from him, frightened by the gleam in his eyes, but next moment he began to murmur apologetically in her ear and one of his hands reached up to tangle in her hair. This night when he touched her it wasn't gentle and soft, he bit and grasped at her flesh and she found herself moaning pitifully, trying to push him away.

When he had finished he practically collapsed into sleep, his body wrapped around hers as lonely as a prison cell, and she burst into agonisingly painful tears. It seemed hours before she could stop them and, unable to bear his skin on hers any longer, she began to pull away from him.

He was awake in an instant and wrapped around her more firmly. Don't go. Where are you going? I love you – hey where do you think you're going? I'm not letting you go anywhere. I won't let you go anywhere. I love you…

'But I don't love you!' she whispered, sobbing pitifully. 'And you're hurting me!'

'I would never hurt you,' he murmured her name, once again gentle and warm. 'I love you. I would never hurt you. Come here, come here and I'll make it up to you. I love you.'

'You're insane,' she gasped. 'Insane.'

If he heard her he didn't answer. The baby had woken up, just beyond the partition in their shelter, and he went to calm him – as all good fathers would – whilst she lay there, naked and crying, wondering when her life had become like this.

It takes her almost a week to work up the courage to steal the gun from him. She waits until he's asleep then reaches a trembling hand out to ease it from his.

The moment is frozen for a brief instant as his fingers slip easily from the cold metal but then his eyes snap open and instinctively he redoubles his hold on it and with a roar of indeterminate rage, pulls the trigger.

The gunshot, so loud in the confined space, shocks her far more than the sudden fire in her leg. She looks down vaguely at the blood as he cries out in horror at what he's done.

'I thought you were one of them!' he wails. 'Oh God! What have I done?'

She looks up at him, still not moving to place pressure on her wound, but he stares at her leg for a moment longer, horror struck, before raising his eyes to hers.

'I've hurt you!'

'Yes,' she whispers. 'You have.'

There is the sound of people running towards them but he doesn't seem to notice or care, all of his energy is focused on her, bleeding her life away in front of him and the weight of the gun in his hand.

'I don't deserve this,' He whispers helplessly. 'I don't deserve you.'

'Charlie!' Jack is calling her name. 'Claire!'

And just as the tent flap is pulled back, he raises the gun to his temple, his eyes still on hers, and pulls the trigger.