Characters: Charlie, Liam, Karen, Lindsey Littleton, Richard Malkin, Charlotte, mentions of Claire and other Lostees.

Author: Sapphirechild

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It took a long time before Charlie could begin his search for Claire's relatives in earnest. She had been suspiciously absent from his dreams lately – and he'd been finding himself moping in his waking hours too because he was so worried about her.

He didn't know what had happened to her after he'd been hung but she hadn't returned to the caves or the beach camp and he felt edgy and upset not knowing if she was safe or not. Each time he fell asleep he hoped desperately that she'd be in his next dream, smiling again like she had the first night that he had met her. It seemed like years ago that he'd offered her his blanket and reassured her that everything was going to be okay.

Liam, oblivious to his brother's private anguish, believed that the downswing in Charlie's moods was due to the fact that he had refused to lend him his car. Charlie had invented a story about going sightseeing and getting to know the neighbourhood to cover up his real intentions – to seek out Claire's relatives. Liam however had flat out refused to lend it to him on the grounds that he was worried that Charlie might still not be in total control of his body yet and he didn't want to be responsible for Charlie hurting himself if he lost control of the car.

Charlie had grudgingly decided to be patient – there was no way that he was going to catch taxis all over Sydney on his brother's dime to try and find Claire's relatives. But it was incredibly frustrating to know that they could be living just down the street from him and he didn't even know.

The days dragged so rather than let himself stew on his worries about Claire, Charlie instead began to devote his time to research. He would barricade himself in Liam's office and pore over the internet for hours, trying to find new information on the passengers of 815. He also found Richard Malkin's ad in the Yellow Pages and cross referenced the mobile number on it with the list of Malkin's in the White Pages. When he found one that matched he added the address to the bottom of the list of places that he had to visit.

On top of this, he somehow found the time to continue with his methadone treatment and his psych appointments, looked after Meghan when he was requested to, cooked meals and helped Karen out as much as he could…but he still felt restless. His dreams reflected this too. He spent hours gathering firewood, spearing fish and picking fruit but the one thing he really wanted to do – find Claire – was being denied from him.

Nearly two weeks since he'd woken up from his dream of being hung, Charlie decided to go back and re-read his dream diary, hoping to glean some new insight about what exactly was happening on the island. He settled down in the living room while Liam and Karen watched the news. Meghan was curled up next to him on the sofa sucking her thumb blissfully as he flipped open the little journal he'd bought.

To his intense surprise however, it was filled with lines and lines of unfamiliar handwriting, little squiggles and doodles drawn in the margins. He scanned quickly over a page that contained a whole list of odds and ends and then flipped forward, pausing when he saw his own name scrawled up near the top of the page.

"…realized I really like Charlie. There's something about him that's just so adorable and sweet. Even in a scary place like this Charlie makes me feel safe."

"Liam?" he called excitedly, his eyes fixed on the page. "Have a read of this!"

Liam leant over obligingly and took the diary from him.

"Can you see it?" Charlie asked eagerly.

"See what?" Liam said, confused. "It's just your dream diary Charlie."

"Wait-what?" Charlie snatched it back and riffled through the pages frantically but they were all filled up with his own untidy scrawl. "No…it was…there was…"

"What exactly did you think you saw in there?" Liam frowned.

"I thought there was something written in here by somebody else…" Charlie muttered, still flipping pages frantically. "I must've…been imagining things or…"

Liam shrugged but he still looked confused as he turned his attention back to the television again.

That night, Claire appeared in Charlie's dreams again – scared out of her wits, apparently unable to recognise anyone, but alive. Despite the basic feeling of negativity behind his dream, Charlie woke up feeling truly hopeful for the first time in days – or at least very determined. He clattered downstairs jubilantly and dropped a quick kiss on Meghan's head before plopping down into the chair across from Liam and leaning forward.

"Liam," he said seriously. "I want to borrow a car today."

Liam looked up at him warily and Charlie continued on before his brother could say no.

"Look," he said imploringly. "I know you were worried before about me having an attack of the shakes or something and wrapping myself around a power pole but I've been feeling really good withdrawal wise the past couple of days. And you know, I think the main reason I've been getting so bloody depressed is that I'm not going anywhere at the moment. I mean, the only people I'm interacting with are you guys and my shrink and all the other messed up buggers in the rehab clinic."

Liam didn't say anything and so Charlie pressed on.

"I think I need to get back out into the world again – go take a walk down the beach or go check out the local shops or something. See some new faces you know? I'd like to go into the city and do some sightseeing too – go check out the bridge and the Opera house and all that other touristy bollocks we never got to do when we came on tour.

"So," he finished hopefully. "What d'you say?"

Liam frowned, considering and Karen took the opportunity to chime in with her two cents.

"Oh go on Liam, he can take my car for today. I was going to catch up with Laura anyway – I'm sure she'll be able to pick Meghan and me up and bring us back home again. Some fresh air will do him good. And," She smiled at Charlie who grinned back at her, surprised but pleased that she was backing him up. "We can give him your mobile phone too. That way if he gets lost or we need to get a hold of him we can."

"What if I miss a call?" Liam protested.

"Charlie is perfectly capable of ringing your work mobile and passing a message onto you Liam," Karen said sternly. "Go on. He'll be fine. It'll get him out from under my feet too."

"Exactly," Charlie agreed readily. "I'm surprised she hasn't gotten sick of me yet to be honest. Do you really want to be responsible for your wife having a mental breakdown from too much exposure to me?"

Liam's face split into a grin. "All right," he conceded. "You can go for a spin today and then we'll see how you go."

Charlie beamed and cuffed his brother affectionately on the side of the head. "Thanks Li," he said, grinning widely before turning to his sister-in-law. "And thank you Karen."

Karen smiled back at him. "Just mind you don't scratch the paintwork Charlie," she teased. "Or I'll have to get Liam to pay to get it redone and you know how much he'd love that..."

"Sod off!" Liam laughed. "If he scratches your car he can bloody pay for it himself!"

Charlie shrugged. "Just put it on my tab. I'm probably indebted to you both for life as it is."

"Oh I wouldn't say life just yet," Liam grinned. "But definitely until you're at least seventy."

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Karen's car was almost brand new and it drove like an absolute dream on almost no petrol – which was just as well really because it was heading into late afternoon and Charlie had yet to find any one of Claire's relatives on his long list of Littleton's.

So far during his travels he had discovered some very interesting characters; including a Kevin Littleton who was about as large as a small killer whale and reeked of cheese, a June Littleton who was well on sixty and living with a woman half her age, and an entire family (or perhaps horde was a better word) of Littleton's whose children all seemed to be wearing the same matching outfit.

Unfortunately, not one of these or any of the others he had visited had ever heard of a Claire Littleton before and Charlie was beginning to get a bit fed up with what he had originally thought of as a clever plan. This had all seemed so much easier in the planning stages than it did now.

L. Littleton was the fifteenth person on his list. She lived alone and Charlie was quite worried that she'd just end up being some dear old lady who would probably be terrified by his scruffy self appearing on her front doorstep. When she opened her front door to him however, he had to catch himself from blurting out something stupid.

Her eyes were just like Claire's – the same shape, the same unusual transparent shade of blue. And he could see other similarities too, the eyebrows, the face shape…Charlie's heart thundered in his chest. Had he actually found her mother? She looked just about the right age…

"If you're selling something…" she began warningly, one hand poised to slam the door shut in his face.

"No, no I'm selling anything," Charlie said desperately. "I'm here because I'm looking for some…information." The woman paused to show that she was listening and Charlie continued carefully. He'd had more than one door slammed in his face already today. "I'm trying to find the next of kin for a girl called Claire Littleton – does that name mean anything to you?"

The woman froze and her face seemed to crumple momentarily before she smoothed it back out again and cleared her throat.

"Who wants to know?"

"Are you…her mum?" Charlie asked tentatively.

"I was her Aunt," the woman said flatly. "My name's Lindsey. Who the hell are you?"

"Charlie Pace," he said, trying hard to suppress his joy at having finally found someone who had known her. "I was wondering…can I talk to you about your niece for a moment?"

"Well that depends on what it's about," Lindsey said shortly. "You said your name was what – Charlie?"

"Yes."

"Not Thomas?"

"Absolutely not," Charlie assured her.

Lindsey pursed her lips for a moment and then sighed and stepped aside to let him into the house.

"I should warn you," she told him as she shut the front door. "I know how to defend myself. So if you're here to try and rob me..."

"I'm not here to rob you," Charlie refrained from rolling his eyes only with great difficulty. "Just to ask a few questions."

"Questions huh?" she led him into the lounge room and gestured him into a stiff looking armchair whilst she stood and crossed her arms at him. "What sort of questions? You're not from Oceanic are you? Because I already told you people…"

"I'm not from Oceanic," Charlie interrupted smoothly. "I wanted to ask you some questions about Claire."

"And how did you know Claire?" she asked sharply.

"I doknow Claire," Charlie corrected her without thinking.

"She's dead," Lindsey snapped. "She died in that plane crash and don't you try to tell me otherwise."

"I don't think she isdead," Charlie said, leaning forward earnestly. "Listen, Lindsey…"

"No, you listen to me," Lindsey snatched a photograph off a side table and thrust it into Charlie's hands. "My niece got herself knocked up, she got herself on a plane – Lord knows why – and it crashed and now she and that baby are both dead. End of story."

Charlie stared blankly at the photograph in his hands. A sullen looking teenage girl with black hair stood between two smiling blonde women – Lindsey and a woman who Charlie could only assume was Claire's mother.

"That's the last photo that got taken before she crashed her mother's car and turned my sister Carole into a vegetable," Lindsey said crushingly and Charlie froze and looked up, horrified. "Claire was an awful kid, a ratty teenager – and she didn't get much better after that either. I didn't see much of her after she moved out of here and I'm glad."

"So did you have any contact with her at all before she got on that plane?" Charlie asked desperately.

Lindsey's lip curled. "She rang me up about four months ago, grovelling for a place to sleep. I told her to look elsewhere if she was looking for charity." She shook her head. "You let them put one toe in the door…"

"You know, considering she's your niece you don't seem all that bothered about not helping her out when she needed you," Charlie said, his voice rising angrily. "What if she didn't have anywhere else to go?"

"I-I well," Lindsey spluttered. "It would have just been a waste of my time trying to help her anyway. And I wasn't about to get lumped with raising some bastard kid of hers while she lazed about and earned a pittance!"

"You're wrong," Charlie said defensively. "She's going to make an excellent mother. I can tell."

Lindsey merely stared at him. "What are you talking about? She died. She's dead."

"Well…I don't think that she isdead actually." Charlie said slowly. When Lindsey continued to stare at him he sighed and finally resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to tell her. "Look, you'll probably think I'm crazy but…I was supposed to get on the same plane as your niece was – only I didn't. And ever since then I've been having these dreams about this island…"

Lindsey gaped at him, outraged. "Get out," she said. "Get out of my house."

"No, wait!" Charlie said pleadingly as she shooed him out into the hallway. "Please – if you could just hear me out…"

"I've heard enough," Lindsey snarled, pushing him bodily out onto the porch. "You come here – into my home, insinuate that I'm nothing more than a heartless bitch and then you tell me that my niece isn't dead at all and that you've been having some sort of…of psychic visions of her?"

"Um…" Charlie shuffled his feet nervously. "Well actually I'm pretty sure what's happening is that there are actually two versions of me existing in parallel timelines and…"

Lindsey slammed the door in his face and Charlie sighed heavily.

"…I'm living out two separate lives at the same time."

He stood there and stared helplessly at Lindsey's door for a moment longer before heading back to the car. He didn't think that he was going to get any more help from her. He'd learnt enough as it was.

It wasn't until he went to open the driver's side door that he realised that in Lindsey's haste to extricate him from her home, he had accidentally stolen her picture of Claire. For a moment he hesitated, wondering if he should leave it on the front porch but then he shook his head and climbed into the car, putting the frame carefully on the passenger side seat. Lindsey wouldn't miss it – he was certain of that.

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A handmade shovel pushed deep into the sand beside a body wrapped in a plastic tarpaulin. No emotion Charlie, no emotion. Blank from anger, blank from rage – don't think, don't feel and you'll be okay – blank, blank, blank…

The curly haired man was beside him, impossibly large in the early dawn light. "Are you all right?"

No I'm not all right.

"You're not alone," Charlie recognised the Arab man from the first night on the beach – the one who had wondered why nobody had come for them yet. "Don't pretend to be."

"You wanna go for that walk now?"

Claire smiled up at him and nodded.

"Sure."

Crossing a narrow rope bridge. Pelting through the jungle. A campfire at night.

"It's not going to want me!" Claire bawled through the darkness but Charlie couldn't see her – could only hear her. "It knows I don't want it, that I was gonna give it away…"

But then the shrill cry of a newborn baby broke through the thick night air and Claire's voice joyously began to cry out, repeating the same thing over and over again...

"I have a son!"

Charlie opened his eyes and reached automatically for his dream journal, Claire's voice still echoing in his ears.

Claire had her baby – it's a boy just like she thought.

He paused for a moment and then added;

When she was in labour(?) she said that the baby wouldn't want her because she was going to give it up. I need to find out why she saw Richard Malkin and what he said to her. I'm pretty sure he was one of the last people to see her alive. Maybe he can tell me why she got on the plane?

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Richard Malkin lived in a large, snobby double story house in a suburb full of large, snobby double story houses with shiny new cars in the driveways. Charlie, having grown up in a blue collar family, felt rather out of his league in his jeans and t-shirt combination. He hadn't even combed his hair today but even though it was probably sticking up every which way he was far too focused on the task at hand to worry about it for too long.

Liam and Karen had conveniently decided to take Meghan to the zoo today and Charlie had easily been able to decline the offer to come with them, saying that he didn't really fancy watching polar bears scratch their bums all day and that he was sure that they'd enjoy some quality family time without him.

"I might just drive down to Bondi or something," he had lied with a shrug. "Maybe I'll rent out a surfboard – see if I can drown myself in the ocean."

And so he had borrowed Karen's car and driven over to the Malkin residence, full of a confusing mixture of hope and trepidation.

The last time he'd met someone who could see into the future, she had given him the knowledge that had caused some sort of time rift or something that seemed to have literally split him in half. He wondered if Richard Malkin would be able to sense this divide in him too – after all, the connection between himself and the version of him on the island only seemed to be getting stronger and stronger.

He knew this because as fragmented and confusing as his dreams usually were, Charlie had found himself slipping into daydreams about the island in his waking hours as well. Just this morning for example, he had absently called Meghan a turnip of all things. Liam and Karen had been completely confused by the nickname and Charlie had been too afraid to tell them that for a split second as he held her in his arms he had actually believed that he was holding Claire's baby boy and not Meghan at all.

When he knocked nervously on the front door a woman answered almost instantly, but instead of saying hello or introducing herself, she merely stared at him. She was middle aged, with straggly brown hair and pale, wide eyes.

"Um…hi?" Charlie said awkwardly as she continued to stare at him blankly. "I'm looking for Richard Malkin?"

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Not exactly," Charlie said tentatively. "I'm trying to find someone and I think that he'll be able to help me."

The woman said nothing for a moment but then she stepped aside and let him into the spacious foyer. "I'll go get him for you," she said, shutting the door carefully before disappearing down the hallway. Charlie hovered awkwardly amongst all the gleaming splendour – the Malkin's were obviously very well off. As he examined a particularly intricate painting he heard a quiet shuffling noise and he turned to see a teenage girl standing at the top of the stairs, ogling him quite unabashedly.

She had wide, pale eyes reminiscent of the woman who had opened the door so Charlie assumed that this must be her daughter. He nodded at her politely and tried to smile but she didn't stop staring and Charlie began to shift uneasily beneath her silent scrutiny. There was something rather unsettling about the blankness in her gaze…

"I'm Richard Malkin – how can I help you?"

Charlie jumped in surprise and turned to see a middle aged man with blue eyes standing before him.

"I'm Charlie Pace," he said, reaching out to shake Malkin's hand. "I'm looking for someone and I was hoping you might be able to help me."

"Well shall we head upstairs to my study then?" Malkin suggested, gesturing for Charlie to follow him up the stairs. Charlie followed slowly, expecting the girl to still be there, waiting for him so she could stare some more. But when they reached the top of the stairs, she was nowhere to be seen.

Malkin led Charlie into a spacious room decorated with dark wooden furniture and various useless knick knacks. At the back of the room was a desk which Malkin sat down in. Charlie sat on the other side feeling slightly apprehensive.

"I don't usually do readings without a prior booking," he told Charlie. "But it's very rare that I am surprised by a visitor. Have you got the correct fee?"

Charlie swallowed awkwardly. "I wasn't aware that…I mean, I don't want a reading or anything, I just wanted some help to find my friend because I'm pretty sure that you're…"

"It's two hundred for a standard reading," Malkin interrupted him smoothly. "I accept cash only."

Malkin waited expectantly and Charlie reached into his pocket for his wallet. Inside he knew was a single, crumpled fifty dollar note and a handful of loose change. Not nearly enough. He brought it out anyway, saying, "This is all I've got. I can get you the rest but I just…I didn't think I'd get in to see you today otherwise I'd've gone to the…bank."

Malkin pursed his lips but he took the fifty anyway.

"Normally I wouldn't allow someone to do an IOU," he said. "But you've got a desperate air about you Mr. Pace. So I'll do your reading and I'll help you in any way I can and we can sort out the rest of the payment afterwards."

"Thank you," Charlie let out a relieved sigh.

"So who exactly are you looking for?" Malkin asked, leaning forward in his chair. "Friend? Family? Lover?"

"A friend," Charlie stipulated and Malkin nodded.

"Good, good. Have they…" he paused delicately before finishing his sentence, "…passed on? Or are they still with us?"

"Everyone thinks that she's passed on," Charlie admitted. "But I know that she hasn't."

"Interesting," Malkin said quizzically and then abruptly held out his hands. "I'll need your hands Mr. Pace."

Charlie hesitantly rested his hands, palms up on Malkin's. The psychic shut his eyes and seemed to concentrate. Charlie sat there nervously, waiting for him to say something when suddenly he gave a small gasp and Charlie jumped despite himself. The stillness of the room and Malkin's mannerisms were unnerving him.

"Was she young?" he asked softly.

"Yes," Charlie said slowly. "She's in her early twenties."

"Hmmn…" Malkin tilted his head from side to side several times. "Was there…an accident that led to her disappearance? I'm feeling like something happened – something terrible that parted you from each other. Something beyond your control…"

"There was an accident yes," Charlie conceded, his skin goose bumping at Malkin's words. "I wasn't really a part of it though."

"Just her?"

"That's right. A plane crash."

"Recent?" Malkin asked, his nostrils flaring excitedly.

"Yes it was recent," Charlie said, his mouth dry as he watched Malkin continue to tilt his head from side to side, breathing carefully through his nose. "It was all over the papers not long ago. Maybe you read about Oceanic Flight 815 too?"

Malkin's eyes snapped open and he stared at Charlie like he'd just slapped him.

"I'm sorry," he said, a dull flush creeping up his neck. "What flight number did you just say?"

"Oceanic," Charlie repeated, confused as to Malkin's sudden change in demeanour. "815."

Malkin drew his hands back as though scalded.

"I'm sorry," he stammered, pushing the fifty back across the table at Charlie. "I can't uh…I can't continue with this reading…"

"What?" Charlie frowned, confused. "Why not?"

"You're going to have to leave," Malkin babbled. "Now please."

Charlie stared at him in shock and then a raw bubble of anger swelled up inside of him and his face creased into a furious scowl.

"Did you know Claire Littleton Mr. Malkin?"

"Who?" Malkin squawked. "Never heard of her. Is that the girl you're looking for? Funny that, I thought I could hear a 'C' name when I was…"

Charlie exploded.

He swept the desk clear of its various crystals and other various means of divination and an ornate lamp fell to the floor and shattered.

"You knew her!" he said accusingly, pointing a finger dead into Malkin's chest. The man cringed back away from Charlie as he rounded the desk and cornered him against a book case. "You were one of the last people to see Claire Littleton alive! Weren't you Mr. Malkin?"

"I never…absolutely ridiculous…don't know what you're…"

Charlie ripped Claire's photograph out of his pocket and slammed it down on the desk before turning back to the psychic.

"Let's see if I can jog your memory," Charlie said dangerously, getting right up close to Malkin who moved his terrified gaze from the photograph to Charlie's livid face. "She was only young – barely a woman. Very pretty – long blonde hair, blue eyes, about eight months pregnant…are you starting to remember yet?"

Malkin whimpered and shut his eyes as he trembled.

"Her boyfriend left her to raise the baby alone," Charlie continued ruthlessly. "She was going to give the baby up for adoption – until you came into the picture. All of a sudden she's getting on a plane to Los Angeles and she's never seen again."

"Sweet Christ…" Malkin's eyes rolled back and a trickle of sweat ran down his face. "Who areyou? How do you know all of this?"

"Because I've seen Claire Littleton," Charlie said, his voice quietly dangerous. "I've seen what you've done to her. She's stranded on an island trying to raise that baby all alone now. She's scared. She's terrified. And it's because of you. You're the one who sent her on that plane and now her life is in danger because of you!"

"Stop!" Malkin cried out, cringing back against the book case. "Stop it!"

Charlie stepped back, repulsed by the cowardly rat before him.

"Why did you do it?" he asked, his voice twisting with emotion. "How could you send her to that bloody place if you knew?"

Malkin was panting heavily, sweat pouring off him. "It was…it was what had to happen…she had to raise the baby herself…"

Charlie waited for more but it took several seconds of panting for Malkin to regain his breath again enough to speak.

"She's the first person I actually got a reading off of," he gasped out. "I'm not really a psychic you see – I'm just a fraud. I gather intelligence about people and I exploit it. But Claire – she was different. I actually saw her future..."

"You're lying," Charlie said flatly. "If you're a fraud how could you possibly have a real psychic vision just out of the blue?

"I saw it! I saw the plane crash…"

"You saw her plane crashing so you told her to go and buy a plane ticket to Los Angeles?" Charlie said incredulously.

"No!" Malkin protested. "I told you! I saw danger surrounding her unborn child! She was going to give it up and I couldn't let that happen – she has to raise that baby herself or terrible things..."

"How did she pay for the plane ticket at all?" Charlie demanded. "She was working in a fish and chips shop on minimum wage – she never could have afforded a plane ticket!"

"Ibought her the ticket!" Malkin wailed, half hysterical now. "I told her there was a couple in Los Angeles waiting for her. I told her that the baby would be safe with them."

"And she believed you?"

"Yes."

"And was there a couple waiting for her in Los Angeles?"

Malkin regarded Charlie with glassy eyes. His mouth was agape but no trace of a word came from between his lips.

"You're disgusting," Charlie spat at him finally, snatching up Claire's photograph and his fifty dollars and shoving them in his jeans pocket. "I hope you rot in hell for what you did to her you pathetic wanker!"

And with that he stormed out of the room, pausing only to push another ornate side table over just for good measure. He slammed his way out of the house, leaving the front door swinging open behind him as he strode up to Karen's car. He got in and sat there for a moment with his head resting against the wheel, just breathing, trying to calm himself down before he started driving. The last thing he needed was to take off at warp speed and wrap the car around a lamp pole.

Just when he was thinking that he might be okay to drive, there was a sudden tap on the window and he nearly leapt out of his skin at the sight of the googly eyed girl from the top of the stairs staring avidly at him through the window.

"Jesusbloodychristbollocks!"

She didn't laugh at the way he was flailing about, merely stared some more, and so Charlie tentatively rolled down the window just enough to speak to her.

"What do you want?" he asked warily. "And why do you keep staring at me like I've got an extra head?"

"I have something to tell you," she said softly. She lisped slightly when she spoke and Charlie had to lean forward in order to catch all of her words properly. "You have to save the baby."

Charlie felt his skin erupt in goosebumps.

"What?" he whispered.

"I told you! You have to save the baby!" she said, suddenly vehement. Her eyes flashes menacingly and Charlie went to wind his window up again but she put her hand in the way. "Wait! Please! I didn't mean to get angry…"

Charlie paused, frozen, listening.

"You not supposed to be here is all," she said quietly. "You're meant to be on the island. You're not supposed to be here."

"But I am on the island," Charlie told her, feeling utterly insane. "And I'm also here. I can't really explain it but..."

The girl shook her head. "You're supposed to be on the island Charlie. You're supposed to save the baby – to save Aaron. He needs you."

Charlie's stomach clenched. "How do you know…?"

"I know things," she whispered, her eyes wider and crazier looking than ever. "I heard things – saw things when..."

"When what?" Charlie demanded. "Where were you? What things did you hear?"

"When I was in between places," the girl whispered back. "You hear them and you see them too don't you? You're always between places now. It's because you're supposed to be there and not here."

"How did you get between places?" Charlie asked.

The girl smiled then – she might've looked beautiful if not for the manic gleam in her eyes.

"I drowned."

Charlie gave an uncontrollable shudder then and a sick feeling washed over and through him – so strong that he thought he might actually vomit.

"Drowned?" he whispered.

"Charlotte!"

The two of them glanced over at the house. Mrs. Malkin was standing at the doorway looking abjectly terrified. Just behind her, Charlie could see Richard Malkin hovering in the shadows.

"I'd better go," Charlotte said, her eyes on her parents. Suddenly she turned back to Charlie, reached through the window and gripped his hand tightly for a long moment. "Just remember – you have to save Aaron."

And with that she was gone.

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"She took my baby!"

A gun weighed heavily in the waistband of his jeans and a plume of black smoke rose high above the treetops – far and away.

"Get him back Charlie!" Claire was sobbing. "Get Aaron back!"

"Aaron?" confusion was quickly replaced by determination as he became aware of Claire's hands, gripping his shirt tightly as she cried. "Claire, I will get him back. Promise."

Green and green and green flashing past – he always seemed to be running through the jungle in his dreams, or rather in his memories. But today he wasn't running from something. No. Today Charlie was the predator, the pursuer. A dark shadow wove ahead of him bobbing in and out of sight – the Arab man. He wasn't his prey though – no, he was the guide.

Falling rocks, a moment of blackness, hot sticky blood against skin and a piece of towel pressed to the raging pain of his head wound.

"I'm not going back without that baby, Sayid!"

I have to save him!

The jungle was dark but the beach was lit up from a lonely bonfire. Sayid deposited Aaron in his arms and Charlie held him tightly.

"I heard them say they were coming for the child," the Frenchwoman was whispering tearfully. "The Others said they were coming for the boy!"

"You're pathetic!" Charlie snapped at her.

"Aaron!" Claire took her son from him, hugging him joyfully. Charlie watched her, beaming as she looked up, hesitated, and then threw her arms around him. "Thank you!" she said, her voice choked with emotion. "Thank you for getting him back Charlie…"

Charlie woke with his heart blazing proudly in his chest and – as was his habit now – he reached for his dream journal and jotted down a single sentence.

I have to look after Aaron – I have to keep him safe.

Slamming his book shut he rolled back onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling, trying to memorise the feel of Claire's arms around his shoulders as she held him.

TBC...