3.

Sitting there on the beach in the near darkness, a companionable silence descended and two pairs of eyes gazed out to sea instead of one, both seeming lost in thought. In spite of whatever turmoil might have existed under the surface, the outward serenity was only broken when Charlie shot a sidelong glance at Claire as she shifted uncomfortably.

"You okay, love?" he asked in concern, already half on his feet as he spotted the look on her face and the hand pressed to her temple. "You want me to get Jack?"

She shook her head weakly, "No … No, I'm good – honest. Just … tired, I guess."

"You're bound to need your rest – how about we get you back over to the fire?" Charlie suggested, getting up and taking her arm, carefully helping her climb to her feet before staying close so she could lean on him. "You been getting much sleep?"

"Not really." Claire admitted ruefully, "A bit when I'm just too far gone to keep my eyes open, but …"

"But?"

"The baby." she said quickly, perhaps a little too quickly. "Hard to get comfortable. Or to ignore the kicking …"

He nodded in understanding but, after a moment's pause, showed that her answer didn't wash with him. "So that's the only thing keeping you awake?"

"What makes you ask that?" she asked suspiciously, stopping in her tracks.

"Nothing. It just seems like … there's more to it than that." he shrugged, "Sorry, I didn't mean to stick my nose in."

Thinking it was best to drop it rather than risk upsetting her, Charlie thought she would do the same and they continued across the sand without a word. However, Claire stopped again before they reached the fire, purposely keeping them out of earshot of the others as she turned to him unsurely.

"I've been having … dreams." she said, her gaze flitting around self-consciously instead of meeting his eyes. "Well, nightmares really. Not making me too keen to doze off – I know it's silly. I'm hardly a little kid …"

But if she thought Charlie would judge her or think her childish for being frightened by something she knew couldn't possibly be real, she was very much mistaken – he'd had his fair share of sleepless nights in his time and knew all too well what it was like to wake in a cold sweat, scared to close your eyes again for fear of what your mind might conjure up to haunt you.

"It's not silly." he said gently, "Maybe Jack could give you something …"

"I'd rather not mention it to anyone else. He's got enough to deal with without me blowing some silly little dream out of proportion and I hate everyone treading on eggshells around me as it is – I'm not Claire to most people round here, I'm just 'that pregnant girl'. I'm like a … a … walking timebomb!"

"No one thinks that …" he began, thought he knew she wasn't convinced. "I don't."

She acknowledged that much was true with a little nod and grateful smile. "I guess not … It's not like I blame the others though – I kinda feel the same myself."

"You just need to take it easy for a bit – you're still in shock from the crash, so it's only natural you'd feel a bit off. This has thrown us all for a loop."

"It's hard to explain, but it's like I'm sooo tired, but I'm too … wound up. I just can't relax and god knows I've tried. It must be this place – knowing there's nowhere to go. I just feel …"

"Trapped."

"Yeah." she agreed with a faint look of surprise at how easily he seemed to understand and how perfectly he summed it up. "Trapped – that's exactly it. I want to get away and I can't – I have to sit here, doing nothing. I can't have this baby here, Charlie – I need to get away …"

"… need to get away."

"I need to get away, Charlie, or … or … I don't know what, but I know it's not going to be good."

"It's the band – getting all the attention from the press and everything, it's more than a little claustrophobic …" he said, eager to find an excuse. "Maybe we could lie low for a while – have a bit of a break …"

Realising he had misunderstood her, she shook her head and then pushed past him to go back inside the hotel room and get dressed. "From you – I need a break from you." she sighed, pulling on a short faded denim skirt and then hunting for the top that would replace the DriveSHAFT t-shirt she was currently wearing.

"You're leaving me?"

The hurt was palpable and she knew if she turned to face those intense blue eyes and the little-boy-lost look they could hold, her resolve would disappear in an instant. He'd always had that effect on her, that power over her, from the moment they'd met.

"Don't make me the bad guy in this, Charlie." she said, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed and staring at her feet. "I just … I don't know how much longer I can do this without cracking up."

"You knew what I was when you got involved with me …" he said accusingly, "You know first-hand the kind of pressure …"

"Don't trip out that old excuse – I'd expect that from Liam, but not you. We're not talking drinking too much or getting high on pot. Heroin, for Christ's sake, Charlie – heroin! And being in the band is no excuse, there are plenty of musicians out there who don't resort to that. And even if that was an excuse, DriveSHAFT are really going places now – you're just risking throwing it all away! If my band was getting the chances you're getting now …"

"They will – it'll happen for you too …"

"If this is what it's going to do to us, then maybe I'd rather it didn't! I swear to God, I'll pack it all in before I let this happen …"

"You say that now, but …"

"No buts, Charlie. You know how much music means to me but nothing, nothing, is worth this."

Distracted by every inch of his body crying out for another fix, Charlie rubbed wearily at his eyes and fought to think of something to say to convince her she was the one making a mistake now. He knew himself how close he was to hitting rock bottom and if she left … he wouldn't have far to fall. Selfish as he knew it sounded, as he knew it was, he needed her.

And yet, seeing as if for the first time the dark circles beneath her eyes, the dejected slump of her shoulders and the absence of the sparkle he knew those green eyes could hold, it suddenly struck him that all he was doing was pulling her down with him. When they had first met, he had been the big star while she was struggling to find paying gigs of any kind for her band, Aura, but now … regardless of Tash often feeling they were getting nowhere, Aura was on the verge of making it and DriveSHAFT was …

What was it?

For Charlie himself, the band was a crutch – the music was one of the few things keeping him sane; on stage, he could lose himself in playing his guitar and, for a few short hours, nothing else mattered. But Liam, their supposed frontman, could rarely be bothered to show up for rehearsals or sound checks anymore. Oh, he loved the limelight, the groupies, the lifestyle, but he didn't want to put in the effort behind the scenes. And Pat and Sinjin, God bless them, they'd have been happy to bask in the reflected glow from the higher profile Pace brothers, content to be making music and going with the flow – they never imagined the rivalry that would threaten to rip the band apart. How could they have when it was such an unlikely scenario?

Always looking up to his big brother and following in his shadow, Charlie had no designs on being the "star" – he wrote lyrics, composed melodies, played his beloved guitar. He joined the band for the simple reason that Liam asked him to. It would just never have occurred to him otherwise and, even when they started getting gigs, he never dreamt how big they would become. Liam was always the one with the plans, the go-getter, and with DriveSHAFT, he got everything he wanted and more. But it still wasn't enough for him. He got greedy.

Maybe they all did.

And now they were falling apart. Charlie hated to admit it, but the band he'd come to love was on the point of self-destruct. Just like him.

Just as DriveSHAFT was beginning its fall from grace, Aura was gaining the potential to soar. It was tough trying to get a break in this business, something that depended as much on moving in the right circles and on luck as it did on having the talent. But Aura had talent, Charlie could see that – that was why he'd convinced the others that they should open for them on one of their tours. That and of course the fact that it meant Tash coming on tour with them. With him. The tabloids had definitely had a field day with that one.

Aura could not yet boast the high profile of many bands, DriveSHAFT included, but they were already creating a stir within the business and Tash Donahue was fast becoming a name that would sell; the newspapers and TV stations already taking an interest in the "next big thing" and joining the race to bring "exclusive" stories to the public. Already the music was becoming secondary to the gossip and scandal and, if none existed, someone was always ready to make it up.

Aura's drummer, Johnny Delaney, had already suffered at the hands of two of his ex-girlfriends, their over-active imaginations and the pound signs that must have flashed in front of their eyes when they found out how much they would be paid for their kiss-and-tell stories. Speculation then arose over just how close he and bassist, Olivia Page, were – resulting in fabricated stories that left Olivia's fiancé none too happy. But, that aside, the other band members had succeeded in keeping a fairly low profile, with the exception of Tash herself. She was finding herself at the centre of a media frenzy over the possibility that she was involved with none other than Charlie Pace – no stranger to the gossip columns himself thanks to rumours of drug abuse, a drink problem and altogether hedonistic lifestyle – particularly noteworthy in a practising Catholic.

None of them wanted to be known more for their so-called private lives than for their music, so both Charlie and Tash had settled for the old "deny, deny, deny" routine, regardless of the grainy pictures the papers continued to publish as "evidence" of their relationship. It was no one's business but theirs and it was staying that way.

Now though, Charlie couldn't help but wonder if she was ashamed of him. Not that he'd blame her. Since he'd joined the band, he had interest from girls who wouldn't have looked twice at him before but none of them could even hold a candle to Tasha, so what did that say for his chances at holding onto her? Especially now everything he'd had going for him was slowly but steadily being destroyed? Maybe he wasn't being fair to her … Who was he kidding? There was no maybe about it.

"You deserve better than this." he said in a low tone.

"Don't talk like that …" she began gently, but he cut her off.

"No, it's true. And if you want to go, I won't stop you. Just … Just …" he trailed off, not finishing his sentence and instead changing tack completely, trying to put a brave face on it. "Just don't go out the front – after last night, the whole place'll be swarming with paparazzi."

"I've already seen today's papers … Room service left them outside the door – probably some smartarse thinking he's funny …"

"Not good news, I take it?"

Tash shook her head ruefully. "Put it this way, they didn't get your best side." she tried to joke and they shared an awkward laugh, Charlie sinking down beside her on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

"Oh, Charlie …" she sighed, reaching out to run a hand through his tousled hair and then cupping his cheek as he looked up at her. "You do know how I feel, don't you? If I didn't care about you, I could walk away without a second thought, but …"

"You don't have to explain." he said, covering her hand with his. "I've got no one to blame but myself …"

"That bloody brother of yours comes a close second though!" Tash said darkly.

"Liam'll bounce back – he always does."

"And where does that leave you?"

But Charlie could only shrug – if only he knew. He laced his fingers through hers, drawing her hand from his cheek and kissing her knuckles lightly, glad when she smiled instead of pulling away as he half feared she might. He knew he was pushing his luck now, but he couldn't help it – not when he didn't know how this was going to play out, not when he knew she was about to walk out of the door and perhaps out of his life for good …

He leaned in slowly, grazing her lips with his, pleasantly surprised when she didn't push him away and prepared to leave it at that rather than risk rejection. There were tears glistening in her eyes but, in spite of that – or perhaps because of it – she kept her hand in his and moved to kiss him again. This time everything they had ever felt for each other came rushing to the surface and they were in each other's arms in a second, the passion in their kisses almost lost under sheer desperation to just be together, for things to just be as simple as they once were. Charlie found himself lifting her onto his lap to hold her close as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. With one arm tight around her waist, his free hand was buried in her long hair and he strove to kiss away the few tears that managed to escape her efforts to hold them back.

"I'm sorry … I'm so sorry …" he whispered over and over as he held her, certain that, no matter what it meant, he could no longer stand in her way and keep putting her through this. "I'm sorry, love, honest to God I am. I'm sorry …"

"… sorry."

"I'm sorry …"

"Huh? What for?" Charlie asked, transferring his attention from the flickering flames of the fire to the young woman sitting beside him.

"Going on about me and my problems all the time – bet you're wondering how you managed to get stuck with me!" Claire said.

"Course not – the company's one of the few things being stuck here has going for it." he smiled.

"Oh, sure – when I dream of lazing in the sun on a tropical island, I'm always surrounded by a bunch of strangers who can't seem to agree on anything." she grinned wryly, making him laugh.

"I didn't say it didn't have its downsides – and of course, there's the not so small matter of an unknown something or other lurking in the bushes, waiting to eat us all …" he continued, before seeing her look and hastily changing the subject. "But let's not think about that …"

"Let's not." she agreed, a protective hand on her bump. "So … how about you tell me about you for change?" she said, realising that, with the exception of his numerous mentions of his band, he never really spoke about his life back home. "You were on the plane on your own, weren't you?"

He nodded, but offered no further comment.

"There must be loads of people missing you back home – family, friends … girlfriend …?"

"Not really." he said said, forcing himself to brighten up quickly and correct himself, "I mean, the band and the fans, of course … Don't see family much – on the road too much, you know. Touring. There's Liam though … My brother – he's in the band. Sings. Lead singer …"

He fell silent again and Claire looked away awkwardly, getting the distinct impression she had overstepped some kind of boundary and maybe brought up something that was painful for him to talk about, though she had no idea what that might be.

"Sorry …" she offered, realising too late that perhaps he was, in spite of his claim to fame, a private person and not the open-your-mouth-think-later, tell-your-life-story-to-a-stranger type person that she could often be.

Regretting making this young woman feel she had done something wrong, Charlie considered her apology as he smiled at her, trying to show it was unnecessary. Sorry – what did she have to be sorry for? It came so easily to her and yet with such sincerity … He envied that. Of course, he'd said it himself over and over, but that had only served to rob it of all meaning. A true apology from him required more than words – it needed action. And actions spoke a thousand words …

He knew that much was true – of all the exchanges they had shared, all the rows, all the making up, the one thing that had struck home to him hadn't required a single word. As long as he lived, he'd never get the image out of his head of Tash and that look in her eyes. She'd sat up in bed, wrapped in the tangled sheets, her hopes for the future and her trust in him written clearly on her face. She was already picturing a fresh start. Or at least she was until she realised she had caught him red-handed.

From the way it had slowly dawned on her, he could tell that at first she hadn't caught on to what he was doing but, as she watched him rifle through his pockets, too engrossed in his search to even notice she was awake, her suspicions must have rose. He could practically see her thinking, trying to process this latest twist. She didn't want to believe it … Surely he wouldn't – couldn't. Not after everything he had said, not after he had begged her to stay with him … Not after he had reminded her of how good things could be between them and they had fallen back into bed together …

But, the baggie between his fingers, he had looked up triumphantly and their eyes met. No way out of this one. Trapped.

In silence, she had dressed. In silence, she had gathered her belongings. His pleading, his excuses, made no difference. That look – it said it all and with a bang of the door, she had left.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for." he told Claire, his voice low. Sorry? She didn't know the half of it.

to be continued...