Disclaimer: Contrary to popular belief, Counter Spark does not own Lost, nor Charlie, although she heavily wishes she did on a daily basis. And yes, she intends on having a wacky disclaimer for every chapter.

Thanks for the reviews: Thanks everyone for the reviews, nothing gets me more motivated. And in a special note to Shadow of Dusk, I guess we will find out later whether or not I am truly a "evil witch" gee, hee, hee, I'm killing you aren't I?

A/N: Here is the next installment of "The Pilgrimage." I am going to try to get at least one new chapter up every week, unless I am suffering through writers block (which doesn't seem plausible at the moment), or if my computer starts acting up. Also, I have been having troubles with for a while with submitting things, but hopefully that'll go away, and if it doesn't I might have to do this at the library before school. But, anyway, enough of the jibber-jabber, as the Great Mr. T once said, and on with the literature!

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Charlie lay unconscious on the jungle floor, his blood slowly forming into a sopping red puddle beneath him. He was alone, except for maybe the number of squirrels and other scurrying jungle creatures who sniffed at him incessantly, wishing he would die already so they could call the gang over and feast on his tasty remains. But alas, he was not dead...at least not yet...and the feeding frenzy would have to wait until he was. None of them wanted to risk the chance of him waking up and attacking, although to be honest, he didn't look at all frightening. He was skin and bone, and not even the orange little fire ants were worried about the 'wrath of the human', because there didn't seem to be any left in this one.

They watched him behind the bushes, eyes piercing like a bat's in the dark. They studied him. Was he the one they had been watching ever since flight 815 crash-landed on their bygone little island? Was this...Charlie Pace? The man known as Zeke signaled to his right-hand man (they called him Freddy) to go ahead and pull him out of his little puddle of misery. He was harmless as harmless could be, and he would no doubt be a nice little addition to their already-formed scheme.

A slow, toothy grin spread on Zeke's rosy cheeks. Oh my, this would be interesting.

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"Charlie!"

Aaron was awakened by the sound of his mother screaming into the infinite black of the summer night. Although he could not exactly make out what had escaped her lips (and even if he did he wouldn't understand it anyway), it frightened him immensely, and it was this fright that sent him into yet another crying fit.

Claire's heart was playing jump rope in her chest, leaping up and down and up and down in a never-ending, frantic pace that was driving her mad. Her hands trembled as she drew them to her chest, closing her eyes tightly and trying so desperately to forget the torturous nightmare. But, as she guessed, it was of no use. A human couldn't see those kind of things and just forget. They were imprinted in her brain now, and in agonizing thought, she realized that what she had seen would be holding place in her mind for quite a long time.

The world had been green, from the sky to the tips of her toes, and she had been walking. It had taken a minute for her to realize that she was in the jungle again...a place that had been off limits to her for quite sometime now. She was surrounded by voices- endless, rising voices- all sounding so near, as though she could feel the breaths of every word blowing softly in her ear. Suddenly, her weary feet left the ground, and she was rising up into the green sky.

She had tried to speak, but when she opened her mouth all that would come out was white, smoky vapors. Astounded, she looked behind her and found that she was...oh my...she was a bird! Tawny wings had sprouted from her back, and she could feel them expanding behind her, taking her farther and farther into this dream-world.

Only thing was, this didn't seem like a dream at all. When she caught herself in a dream, Claire had always been able to snap out of it, but this...it seemed more real than anything she had ever experienced in her life.

Then, in the bottom of her eye, she saw him; a black little dot in a sea of leaves. Spreading her magnificent wings, she let the wind carry her down to him...her love. She reached him quickly, and he was smiling, holding Aaron firmly in his arms. She tried to say something like I Love You, but all that resulted was another stream of hot, white vapor. So, she kissed him softly on the cheek and gazed down upon her child- their child, who was already in the depths of a deep and peaceful slumber.

Then it started to rain, and Claire, who had always loved rain since she was a little girl, spread her arms out and opened her mouth. She could remember with such astounding clarity her childhood back in Australia, with her father standing behind the front porch, watching his daughter dance in the rain. Heart burning with love, happiness, and nostalgia, she was filled with an overwhelming, undeniable desire to grab her man and make love to him in the rain...that is before a terribly bitter taste filled her mouth and instantly interrupted this desire. Was it...?

Blood. It was raining blood.

In complete and udder horror, she watched as the crimson beads trickled down her hands in such a terribly slow fashion. Blood was thicker than water. Suddenly the world was no longer green- it was red.

The moment she looked up at Charlie, her heart skipped a beat. He seemed completely unaware that they were both being coated with layers and layers of rose red blood; his eyes were transfixed on Aaron. Behind him she could dimly make out a black figure approaching, arm raised in the air, holding a long, silver dagger, glinting fiercely in the blood-rain.

Claire tried to call out to him, but only a thin wisp of white air escaped. She tried to reach out to him, but her wings wrapped themselves around her, and she couldn't move, trapped in a cell of feathers.

The strange man drove his dagger into Charlie's heart, and she watched as the blood erupted from her lover's chest. It was hard to tell what blood was his and which belonged to the sky. Aaron screamed, and this time it was real sound, not a puff of wind. It was real, terrible, and screeching...his cry echoed in her heart as she watched Charlie become limp and collapse on the red jungle floor.

The man laughed, menacing and coldly, and she awoke to the sound of her own screaming...closely followed by Aaron's.

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"Claire?" Sun appeared in the flap of her doorway, alarm shining in her soft, slanted eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Has Charlie come back?" Claire's chest was falling at such a rapid rate that she considered the offhand chance that she might suddenly endure heart failure. The question didn't seem to register with Sun, and Claire grabbed the woman's narrow shoulders. "Sun, has Charlie come back?"

Her answer was slow and cautious. "...No." She reached out and with the back of her hand gently touched the young mother's cheek. "Are you...okay, Claire?"

She burst into tears. "No, Sun. I'm not okay."

The beautiful Asian woman took Claire in her arms and let her wet tears absorb into her cotton blouse. She did not know what to make of this now, but she knew one thing.

Something was wrong.

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"Boss, is he...dead?"

Freddy's eyes were large and sphere-like, radiating innocence as well as complete ignorance. He looked to the bearded man the way a son looks to his father, accepting whatever the latter would say as words of wisdom. Zeke did not look at him when he answered- he seemed preoccupied with his pant leg.

"Nah, Fred. He will be though if we don't do something right and quick. Here." The older man handed Freddy half of his right pant leg, the old worn material dirty with soil and blood. "Try to stop the bleeding."

As Freddy lifted Charlie's shirt and gazed down at his wound with astounded terror, he asked Zeke a question. "Why do we want him alive?"

He answered: "You'll see, Fred. You'll see."

Zeke snapped his head to the right and called out into the trees. "Hey, Bette! You got the stuff?"

As soon as he called out, a woman appeared from the mass of trees, her shapely body seeming out of place in such a barbaric looking scenery. "You bet I do." As she answered, her deep brown eyes lingered on the man who lay unconscious on a large tree stump. "...Who's that?" Her eyes were drawn in disgust and horror to his gaping wound that was still dripping blood freely, as well as his deteriorated state.

"He's from 815. I've seen him around, snooping in the forest and whatnot. He doesn't know it, but he's a very valuable commodity to them." Zeke watched tenderly as Freddy tied his pant leg around Charlie's stomach, ceasing the wild blood flow considerably. Without looking at the woman beside him, he held out his hand and within a second there was a small, tied-up bag filled with a grainy brown substance. "Time to wake him up."

"What's that?" Freddy said instantly, his bulbous eyes focused on Zeke's hand.

"It's heroine, Fred. It'll wake up him up real quick."

"Well...how come I've never seen it before? Can I use it when I'm sleepy?" A smile spread on his wide lips...an innocent smile.

Zeke's face went pale and he swiftly approached Freddy, a serious frown on his haggard face. "Now you listen to me, Freddy. This stuff is bad stuff. I don't ever want to see you messing around with it, okay?"

His face looked submissive, yet the young man still did not understand. He nodded and watched curiously as Zeke's eyes stared at him with such serious care, like a father telling his son not to ride his bike without his helmet- ever.

"Alright," Zeke said soothingly as he patted Freddy's shoulder. With the small bag opened, he calmly walked up to Charlie and looked down upon the blonde-haired man. Deep down he felt pity for him...he had always been there to watch this kid whenever he would hide in the forest, drowning in his sorrow. Zeke was always there watching him...watching when Ethan tied the noose around his neck. He was only a kid, yet he had been through hell, hadn't he? But, if he had learned one thing about survival on this island, it was that pity was deadly.

In a quick, fluid movement, Zeke cupped his hand around Charlie's nose and shoved upward, forcing him to inhale the grainy, brown powder. He was awake in moments, his blue eyes shot open like a shade being pulled up on a window.

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Charlie thought that maybe this was hell...but then again, would they really have heroine in hell? He knew it was too much as the blood pumped wildly in his body; the nerves jumping on end. The heart was beating rabidly in his thin chest...he considered the likelihood of it actually propelling from his chest plate like a fish out of water, except this time the water would be his blood. He doubted he had anymore to spare.

But now he was twitching and jumping and totally, totally high. It was bittersweet, the breaking of his sobriety. The heroine whispered sweetly in his pulsing head over and over and over: Did you miss me, Charlie, old buddy old pal?

In his hazy vision, he could make out two things. First, the green. He was surrounded by it. Secondly, the bearded man, who's deep, thoughtful eyes pierced him like a wild boar.

The man was speaking, but at first he couldn't hear. Then, he strained every fiber of his being to hear the bearded man and the message that formed time and time again.

"Where is she, Charlie? Tell me, where is she?"

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Next time: Will Charlie spill the beans on Claire's location to the Others? And just how far will they go to get him to? Do Claire's dreams mean anything? Find out in the next installment of "The Pilgrimage"!

A/N: Hey guys and gals! Another week, another chapter, as you can see. And now the groveling ensues. Please review me! Or hey, how about I mask my desire for reviews by asking you a question, half because I don't enjoy groveling and half because I'm actually interested. So, here's the question of the week: Other than Charlie and Claire, what's you favorite Lost ship? And if I hear another person saying Kate and Vincent need to get it on, there will be some heads rolling.

-Counterspark