Characters: Charlie, Liam, Karen and Meghan with mentions of various Lostees.

Author: Sapphirechild

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Because Liam worked during the day and Charlie didn't particularly have a job due to his current circumstances (being clean for little over a month was hardly an encouraging thing to have on your resume), he had been spending an increasing amount of time with Karen and Meghan – whenever he wasn't chasing psychics around town of course.

Karen often enlisted his help to keep Meghan entertained whilst she did chores around the house, or the three of them would spend hours baking up endless batches of cookies and slices. His sister-in-law was grateful for both his company and for the extra set of eyes watching her daughter. It also meant that she had more time to herself and, after Liam let Charlie start driving again, it was soon decided that Charlie would have one day a week where he took Meghan completely off Karen's hands.

At first Charlie hadn't felt all that comfortable with the idea of looking after Meghan by himself because really – what did he know about kids? But before too long he found – to his great surprise – that he was truly enjoying spending time looking after his niece. He spent hours playing down at the local park with her or watching her favourite cartoons. She was a bright child, bubbly and friendly and Charlie loved watching her learn and play. He'd even found himself singing nursery rhymes to her, chasing her around the garden and playing hide and seek or tickling her mercilessly until she erupted into screams of giddy laughter.

"You're a marvel Charlie," Karen would say wonderingly, shaking her head in amazement as she watched the two of them together. "Are you absolutely sure you don't have any kids stashed away somewhere? I can't believe how comfortable you are with her."

Charlie merely shrugged. He knew the reason that he was getting on so well with Meghan but he didn't dare voice it aloud to his sister-in-law. As far as Karen, Liam and his doctor knew, Charlie had all but stopped having his strange dreams now. They were all very pleased with his progress and Liam had told him that he was so proud of his baby brother that he might just have to get him a present one of these days to say congratulations.

Charlie meanwhile was worried. He was being haunted by a recurring motif that seemed to be in his dreams nowadays – a pile of statues of the Virgin Mary hidden in the jungle that he kept on adding to. This in itself wasn't such a bad thing – it was what he knew was inside that was the problem.

Heroin. Bags and bags of the stuff. He wasn't entirely sure where his island self had gotten his stash from but he lived in constant terror that Claire would one day find out his secret. In order to distract her, he began to take care of Aaron more and more, determined that she see how much he cared for her son, that he was responsible.

And without even meaning to, like a mirror image of himself, Charlie began to do the same with Meghan.

He had slipped up too many times now calling her Turnip to the point where both Karen and Liam were starting to accept the nickname although neither of them seemed to like it all that much. Charlie had also swooped in unthinkingly when Meghan had tripped over and grazed her knee – before either Liam or Karen could even blink he had taken her inside, cleaned the graze carefully and then made it all better with what he claimed was an 'extra special bandaid' in fluorescent pink.

Later on Liam had cracked a joke about Charlie becoming a doctor and Karen had laughed too but there had been something a little strained about their smiles that Charlie didn't pick up on until much later on.

The next day Charlie dropped Meghan off at day-care without telling Karen first that he was taking her. She had been terrified, ringing Liam in an absolute panic when she couldn't find her daughter and then she had all but strangled Charlie when he strolled into the house and announced nonchalantly that he'd just dropped Meghan off and why wasn't Karen at her yoga class?

The final straw came when Liam had called Karen downstairs to go over some financial issues quickly with him and Charlie had found Meghan sitting up in bed, waiting expectantly for her usual bedtime story. Without even thinking, he chose a book and began to read it for her, Meghan pop-eyed with excitement at this change in her routine.

When Karen found him she was incredibly upset but she tried her best to hide it, saying that she wanted to speak to him downstairs as soon as he was done.

"I know that it might not seem like a big deal to you," she had told him icily. "But reading the bedtime story is my special thing that I do with Meghan – same as when Liam comes and tucks her in and turns out the light. I'm not saying don't help out with her because I'm very grateful for your help and I'm glad that you're having fun with her but…Charlie?"

He frowned up at his sister-in-law in honest confusion. As far as he was aware he hadn't done anything wrong and now he was being run through the wringer!

"She's not your daughter," Karen said finally. "Remember that won't you?"

He had nodded humbly then and agreed to back off.

Unfortunately, his other life had no intention of backing off on his protection of Aaron and that same night his dreams turned once again to nightmares. Claire smashed open the statue and confronted him about the drugs. Charlie watched in horror as he lied openly to her and then she kicked him out, calling him a liar.

A quick count revealed that his stash of statues had grown now to a terrifying amount. The next thing he knew he was trying to save Aaron from a piano that was being swept out to sea only to wake within his dream to the reality of Claire apparently flirting with Locke!

Full of jealousy and self loathing, Charlie deliberately woke himself up after an unpleasant conversation with Claire and was surprised to find that it was only one in the morning. Unwilling to have more dreams of the same ilk but too exhausted to try and stay awake, Charlie rolled over and shut his eyes again, hoping against all hope that he could patch things up with Claire and go back to the way things had been before he'd found the stupid statues...

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The cradle was being swept out to sea, being carried out on huge waves that would surely drown the infant within it. Charlie cried out desperately for help, tugging his shirt and shoes off before plunging in.

I have to save the baby!

Breathe and stroke and breathe and stroke…

"Aaron!"

The cradle was surprisingly light as he dragged it back to shore and took the child out to hold him against his bare chest comfortingly. Charlie was still standing ankle deep in the water when he noticed the two figures on the shore – both blonde and beautiful, dressed in long, sky blue robes trimmed in gold.

"He's in danger," his mother insisted in her soft voice. "You have to save him. The baby's in danger. You have to save him. The baby's in terrible danger..."

"You have to save the baby," Claire agreed. "Charlie, only you can save him. The baby. You have to save the baby, Charlie..."

Aaron bawled unhappily in his arms and Charlie tried desperately to shush him.

"Charlie?" Liam pushed his way out of the jungle, dressed in long flowing robes that looked utterly ridiculous on his lanky frame. "What're you doing baby brother?"

"What?" Charlie asked confused.

"It's the middle of the night – and what are you doing with Meghan?"

Charlie blinked and looked down to see not Aaron but his niece, cradled gently against his bare chest. She was still half asleep, her thumb positioned firmly in her mouth. Behind him he could hear the sound of rapidly running water. To his immense shock, he realised that he had turned on every single tap in the bathroom and that the sink and bathtub were both close to overflowing.

"I don't know," Charlie said blankly. Liam merely stared at him, just as non-plussed and then he seemed to snap out of his reverie and he reached his arms out.

"Give her to me," Liam ordered.

Charlie carefully handed Meghan to him and Liam held her tight. "I'll take her back to bed – you turn off all the taps and then I'll come back yeah?"

Charlie set about his task diligently but his hands were shaking as he turned all the taps off and then watched the roiling waters gurgle on down the drains. What the hell had he been doing? Sleep walking? He'd never done thatbefore…

"Charlie," Liam was at the doorway, beckoning him. "Let's go downstairs."

Charlie followed mutely, still trembling slightly and distinctly light-headed. When they were in the kitchen, Liam finally turned to him, his face unreadable.

"What the hell happened?" he said, his voice trembling with barely suppressed emotion – Charlie couldn't tell if he was angry, scared or just plain freaked out. "I've known you your entire life Charlie and never once, ever, have I seen you sleepwalk or do anything even remotelylike that!"

Charlie was silent, biting his lip to stop himself from blurting out whatever crazy thing might happen to spring up in his brain first. Liam paused to compose himself and then he pushed his glasses up his nose, sighed, and then ran a hand through his rumpled hair.

"What on earth were you dreaming about Charlie?"

"Well…" Charlie cleared his throat nervously. "I was dreaming about Aaron – his cradle got swept out to sea and I…I saved him…" he faltered for a moment, still unable to read his brothers expression and getting more and more worried by this. "And then mum was there – she and Claire were both there, dressed as angels and…and they told me that I had to save the baby and then you came out of the jungle wearing these robe things and then I…well I woke up."

"I thought these crazy dreams of yours had stopped?" Liam stared at him for a long moment and Charlie fidgeted nervously underneath his brother's unfathomable scrutiny. Liam opened his mouth carefully, took a moment longer, and then spoke again. "I heard the sound of water running," he told Charlie. "When I came to see what was going on you were standing with Meghan in your arms like you were about to drop her in the bath."

His voice wasn't exactly accusing but Charlie still flinched, unable to think of anything he could say that could possibly excuse what he had been about to do – whether he had been aware of it at the time or not. He said nothing to his brother and after a moment Liam sighed.

"Look Charlie," he said. "I have no problem with helping you out. I have no problems with supporting you while you go through your rehab– I remember what it was like and I know how important it is to know that there's someone there for you. But I won't let you endanger my family – and I especially won't let you hurt Meghan."

"I didn't…" Charlie began faintly, so shocked by his brother's words that he felt like he'd been clobbered across the head by a two by four. "I would never…"

Liam's face tightened into a grimace. "I've put her in with Karen and I for tonight just in case – but Charlie, tomorrow I'm going to go with you and we're going to talk to your doctor about prescribing some medication to help you sleep better."

"But…"

"No Charlie," Liam said harshly. "I have to draw the line somewhere. I can cope with you having random food cravings and eating us out of house and home, I can cope with you disappearing for hours at a time with my wife's car and coming back with no petrol but I will inot/i let you put my daughter's life in danger."

"Liam…"

"And I don't care if it was an accident," Liam continued, his eyes blazing. "I don't care if you were sleepwalking or possessed or…I mean for God's sake, you could have drowned her in the bloody bathtub and not even realised what you were doing!" Charlie dropped his eyes, ashamed. "So I don't want you to come anywhere near Meghan anymore."

Charlie's head snapped up and he gaped at his brother. "Liam!" he protested.

His brother stared back – his blue eyes steely.

"You will not go near my daughter again unless Karen or I tell you that you can," he told him, then conceded. "At least not until we can both be one hundred percent certain that you can be trusted with her."

"Trusted with her?" Charlie felt like crying. "She's my niece! I love her! I'd never hurt her!"

"She's my daughter!" Liam all but roared and Charlie shrank back from his brother. Liam stopped himself then and took a steadying breath before continuing on in a much more level voice. "And you're my brother. And I don't want to ever have to choose between the two of you…"

"Why not?" Charlie snapped, his voice dripping with bitterness. "You already chose her once before over me! Why not just kick me out and have done with it like I know you want to? Then you'll be able to keep your precious darling daughter and your perfect darling wife safe from your stupid, deranged druggie brother won't you?"

Liam froze and a second later Charlie realised exactly what he had just said and he caught his breath and held it in his lungs. He had never before voiced the hurt, the betrayal he had felt when Liam had chosen Karen and Meghan over him. For months he had stewed and fumed and cried over it – his only remaining family abandoning him for another. The silence stretched between them, taut and straining like a fraying rope and Charlie waited with bated breath…

"Please Charlie," Liam said quietly. "Please don't make me have to choose between you again. I never wanted to…" he lost his voice for a moment then, shook his head and then tried again. "I want you to know that I'm truly sorry for what I did to you. I sold your piano – the one that mum gave you so that I could have a chance to fix up my messed up life and then I just left you in the dust. I wasn't there for you and I'm sorry."

Charlie was silent.

"But I want to make up for it," Liam said, bleakly earnest. "I want to help you beat this Charlie – but I can't help you if you won't even help yourself."

Charlie sighed impatiently. "Okay fine. Whatever. I'll do whatever I need to."

Liam touched a hand to his shoulder. "Thank you. I'll see you in the morning then, ready to go see the doctor." He headed for the door, turned back and offered him one last grim smile. "I hope you have better dreams baby brother."

Charlie tried to smile back at him, but despite Liam's words, he crawled out of bed early the next morning almost crying.

In his dreams, Claire had ripped Aaron forcibly from his arms and then slapped him so hard that his cheek was still smarting when he woke up. It even looked red when he made his way into the bathroom to splash his swollen, tear-streaked face with cold water.

The entire world seemed set against him, Charlie thought miserably as he palpated the tender skin of his cheek with his fingertips. Or rather, both worlds he was in seemed set against him. It was bad enough that he had to cope with his rehab program and all the associated crap that went with it – did he really have to deal with his other self's baggage too?

Charlie splashed his face one more time, dried it with a towel and then headed downstairs for an early breakfast. He figured that if the day was going to be a bad one he might as well get it started earlier and then get it over and done with sooner rather than later.

Because of his previous addiction, the doctor prescribed him Valerian and advised him to become more active in his day to day life so that he would sleep better at night. After several days however, Charlie realised that the drugs weren't having much of an effect on him. His dreams began to repeat themselves in fact – almost like he was going over and over his own failings through his subconscious, around and around in never-ending circles.

The drugs, the hurt look in Claire's eyes, Aaron being torn from his arms, Locke's anger and disbelief...

He woke up crying every night for a week and in the end he decided that it just wasn't worth it.

He stopped taking the pills.

Despite this, his dreams continued to disappoint him. Claire wasn't talking to him anymore and neither were most of the other survivors. His dreams had finally revealed that in a final desperate act to save Aaron, Charlie had lit a fire and while everyone was distracted, he had stolen the infant from Claire. Thankfully he hadn't stolen Meghan from her bed again – instead he woke up early one morning down in the kitchen, the gas burners turned on full bore, and the sink full of water and a collection of Meghan's dolls.

Terrified about what Liam would say if he knew that Charlie had been sleepwalking again, he hoped desperately that he'd stop trying to steal Aaron from Claire – if only so his brother didn't kick him out. To his intense relief however, his dreams quickly shifted over the next two weeks. He dreamt of long hiking expeditions and biting sarcasm, hours of intensive labour spent chopping down trees in silence with the large black man he had seemingly befriended, and lonely hour upon lonely hour spent sitting in a flimsy, makeshift shelter with his guitar in his lap, so miserable that he couldn't even play.

His life with Liam and his family wasn't much better. Because he wasn't allowed to spend any time with Meghan anymore and Karen didn't seem much enamoured of his company either, he took to mooching about in his room with the door locked and his notebooks spread out on his bed, trying to glean some sort of new information from his dreams. He drew endless maps and pictures, trying to remember every infinitesimal detail about the shelters on the beach or the geography of the island. When he grew tired of that he would write endless lists of the names of the other occupants of the island, what they looked like, what his relationship with them was like…

And so it went on.

When he wasn't at home poring obsessively over his notes he spent his time down at the ocean just staring out at the water. Despite the old woman's warnings about his other self's untimely death and Charlotte Malkin's creepy premonitions, Charlie felt inexplicably drawn to the deep, endless blue. He would sit there for hours, losing all sense of time as he meditated, concentrating hard on reaching out to his other self. Sometimes he went so deep into his daydreams that he would start composing songs in his head – hearing them echo back to him across miles of ocean and confused time strands.

Almost a week and a half had passed when Liam came barging through his bedroom door early one evening without even knocking first.

"Charlie," Liam said urgently. "You have to come and see this…"

"See what?" Charlie glowered at his brother as he reshuffled his papers. "In case you haven't noticed I'm a little bit…"

"They've found your plane," Liam said all in a rush. "They found Oceanic 815 in the bottom of an ocean trench just off the coast of Bali…"

Charlie was already up and moving at the word 'plane', Liam trailing after him down the hallway and calling out the rest of the details as Charlie bolted down the stairs.

No, no, no…it can't possibly be…it just can't…

But when he came into the lounge room, there it was – tangible and believable and oh-so-real on the television screen. Karen was staring at it, a trembling hand pressed over her mouth. When Charlie came in she turned to him and he saw that she had been crying.

"Charlie?" she said uncertainly.

Charlie ignored her and stared at the television, his jaw somewhere down around his feet as the camera panned slowly along the tail, clearly showing the Oceanic logo. Liam padded up behind him and put what was obviously supposed to be a comforting hand on his shoulder just as a voiceover came blasting over the speakers and they all jumped.

"This shocking footage comes to us streamed direct via satellite from the Christiane I – a salvage vehicle in the Indian Ocean. For nearly two months now it's been scouring the depths of the Sunda Trench off Bali in search of the remains of sunken trading ships…" The footage looped back and began to play again from the beginning as the voice over continued. "…Instead they have found the wreckage of what could only be Oceanic airlines Flight 815 – the plane that disappeared halfway between Sydney and Los Angeles on September 22nd. With the plane now accounted for, and a salvage mission looking very unlikely at this point, authorities have regretfully confirmed that all three hundred and twenty-four passengers are dead…"

"That's bollocks!" Charlie exploded. "They're not dead!" he stormed up to the television and shoved at it angrily. "You've got rocks in your heads!" he roared at the set.

"Charlie!" Karen said, appalled. "Calm down!"

"Calm down?" Charlie wheeled on her. "CALM DOWN!"

Karen shrank back against the wall, her eyes wide with fear. Liam drew himself up to his full (and rather imposing height) and made as if to start yelling at him but Charlie wasn't going to have a bar of it.

"They're wrong!" he yelled, pointing an accusing finger at his brother as though it was his fault that they'd found the plane. "They're not dead!"

"I don't care!" Liam stormed. "Don't you dare speak to my wife like that!"

"Charlie what on earth are you talking about?" Karen said faintly. "They're all dead – they just said so!"

"No," Charlie turned to her appealingly. "You don't understand, I've seen them Karen – I've been dreaming about them all for months. They're still alive!"

Karen and Liam merely stared at him, incredulous and confused.

"Okay look," Charlie said falteringly. "I can't tell you exactly how I know all of this – I don't even understand how it all happened to be honest – but what I ican/i tell you is that there is no way that this…" he paused to gesture angrily at the television set. "…is really Oceanic Flight 815. For one thing, the plane broke into three very distinct pieces when it crashed…"

"Charlie…" Liam began.

"…and for another thing…"

"Charlie, what you're saying is absolutely crazy!" Liam reached forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Baby brother…"

"No Liam!" Charlie struggled out of his brother's grip, suddenly hating his old nickname. It had once been an endearment – now he just wanted his brother to take him seriously for once. "It's real okay? I'm not crazy and I'm not delusional! These people are out there and they're waiting to be rescued!"

"Even if they were out there somewhere how are you supposed to help them?" Karen wondered.

"I…look I don't know okay?" Charlie said defensively. "Just…I know they're out there! And I have to save them – people are dying Karen and I can't do anything about it."

"Charlie," Liam grabbed his arm suddenly and forced him to look up at him. "Are you using again?"

Karen looked horrified but Charlie laughed uncertainly.

"Are you serious?"

"You've been doing a lot of the running back and forth to the rehab clinic yourself," Liam pointed out. "It'd be easy enough to sneak off and find yourself a local dealer. And you've been behaving erratically lately, having those weird dreams again…"

"The dreams never stopped Liam," Charlie said bracingly. "I just didn't tell you. And they're not even dreams really. I mean, they're more like…memories..."

"You know you didn't actually answer my question after all of that?" Liam said perceptively. "Are you using or not?"

"No Liam, I'm not!" Charlie snapped and then winced. "Geez...are you trying to break my arm? That bloody hurts!"

Liam released his arm but he still didn't look convinced.

"Tomorrow I'm going to go and check in with the people at the clinic and make sure that you've been coming in to get your daily dose of methadone," he told Charlie.

"Fantastic. You do that then!" Charlie snarled. "They'll tell you that I've been in there every single bloody day since I got here to get my bloody methadone and then again once every week to do my stupid bloody therapy bollocks! They've got it all on record there so you can just stick it up your..."

"Charlie," Liam said warningly. "If you're lying to me and I find out then I'm going to have to ask you to move out of my home."

"Well it's just as well I'm not using then isn't it?" Charlie steamed. "Now if you'll excuse me…"

He tromped up the stairs noisily and slammed the bedroom door shut before sinking down on the bed with his head between his hands. The image of that plane, rusting at the bottom of an ocean trench…it had shaken him to his very bones. Despite his vehement exclamations that there was no way that it could be Flight815 Charlie couldn't help but feel a small niggling of doubt in the back of his brain.

Was he really just going crazy after all?

He thought back to that fateful day almost eight years ago now when the crazy Scottish man had accosted him in the street and then he had taken shelter in the antique shop with the creepy old woman. He hadn't really believed her at first – but she had turned out to be dead on about the plane, hadn't she? It had crashed.

What she hadn't explained very well was the paradox that had occurred when the Scottish man had accidentally changed his future so that he ultimately didn't get on the plane, it had somehow split him in half and now he seemed to be living out two separate lives simultaneously.

He wondered for a moment if his other self was aware of him too and then shook his head to try and clear his thoughts. This time travel and living two separate lives bollocks was bad enough without worrying too much about his other self's wellbeing. And it wasn't like he could really influence what was happening on the island anyway– he'd already tried to change his dreams to no avail.

So the only way he could save these people would be if he somehow found the island that they had crashed on.

"Bollocks."

Charlie fell backwards onto his bed and pushed his hands through his hair until it stood on end. How the hell was he supposed to do that? Clearly he was supposed to help them, otherwise he wouldn't be seeing what his other self was seeing. But how could he possibly do anything? He didn't have any money, he didn't even have a job – and he certainly didn't have the resources to create a rescue team. And even he did have the means to do so, he didn't command enough respect to lead anyone – he was a recovering drug addict for Chrissakes!

His thoughts went back to Claire and Aaron – stuck on that horrible piece of sand but instead of feeling a happy glow like he normally did he just felt incredibly sad. Didn't she know how much he wanted to save her? He'd done everything that he could and she still didn't want to have anything to do with him. And the other survivors – they were just as bad! Why hadn't any of them tried to help him when he really needed them? The night that he'd been knocked down by Locke and left to bleed in the surf nobody had stayed to make sure he was okay – not Hurley or Sayid or Jack or even Eko, the priest.

He stood up and began to pace back and forth angrily, finally coming to a stop and slamming his fists down on the chest of drawers with a roar of frustration.

He paused there for a moment, trying to calm himself down, breathing shallowly through his mouth.

Why him of all people? What was so special about him that he'd been chosen for this particular fate? He wasn't physically strong – in fact he tended to turn and run the other way rather than stand and fight. He wasn't a great strategist, a scientist or a doctor. All he'd ever really been good at was making music – and really, he hadn't been that great at that either!

Charlie curled up on his bed in a miserable bundle and pressed his face against his knees, trying not to cry, his fingers digging into the fleshy part of his calves. He slept restlessly that night, dreaming of half finished structures falling down upon his head and a vicious wind that tore around him like a tornado, angrily hissing his name.

TBC...