A/N- I'd like to first thank you all for your amazingly kind reviews. I'm extremely glad that you enjoy my take on post-LOST events. Reading your comments on my writing style puts a smile on my face, and gives me encouragement to keep going with this story. Again, thank you all so much.
Between his overwhelming desire to save everyone the only way he could, and his own desperate human instinct to survive, Charlie thought of Claire. While the room flooded with water, and Desmond pounded on the door, he wondered what she was doing at the moment; if she was thinking about him, and if she was worried about him. He hoped that she wasn't; she needed to move on and forget him so she and Aaron could be rescued.
And yet, he couldn't help thinking about seeing her again. Charlie had heard that before you died, your life flashed before you eyes, but that wasn't true for Charlie. All he could see was Claire.
-"First plane crash?" he joked.
"How could you tell?" she laughed despite everything that had happened. He sat down.
"Ah, you can always spot the newbies."
-"I remember peanut butter, why do I remember peanut butter?"
"It was imaginary peanut butter actually." He laughed, glad that Claire still wanted to be friends with him, that she still trusted him.
-"I told you I could take care of you"
-"Come back safe Charlie" he couldn't stand the look in her eyes, the complete helplessness and desperation, but he had to do it. He had to die to save her and Aaron. They deserved better.
It would all be over soon. Suddenly, quicker than the water that was steadily bringing him closer to death, a thought struck Charlie. "What Boat? Who-who's Naomi?" Why were the people on the freighter lying? How would Charlie let his friends know? The pounding on the door continued; a constant noise that mirrored Charlie's own heartbeat. Desmond.
The warm water was almost up to Charlie's chin now. Charlie felt momentarily tempted to give in to it's persistent calling. Claire, Aaron. Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out a marker. Keeping his head and mouth above the waterline, Charlie wrote the last thing he would ever write. Not Penny's Boat.
Desmond was calling out, desperate but completely and utterly helpless. Charlie swam to the door and put his hand on the cold, unyielding glass. Desmond stopped pounding. He read the words to himself, and then eyed Charlie. Desmond put his hand to the glass, and Charlie nodded. Save Claire, he tried desperately to convey. Help my family. Desmond nodded back.
The room had finally filled. Charlie pushed away from the wall, and floated. The warm liquid filled his lungs, and he already felt his world fading. For everything that had happened in his life, every terrible thing that he had done, Charlie's heart filled with remorse. Finally, he could feel proud of himself. Charlie crossed his heart with his head bowed, and then everything went black.
Everything was dark. Only blackness and nothingness. Charlie couldn't see, hear, or breathe. Something was definitely wrong. Charlie wondered if he was dead; he was thinking, or at least he thought he was. He could see Claire. She was smiling at Charlie like nothing else mattered in the world besides himself and Aaron, who she was cradling between them. Aaron looked as though he had just been born. That couldn't be right; neither was the fact that Claire was on a couch. Kate and Desmond were there too, looking happier than they had ever been.
Charlie smiled. Then, the vision was violently yanked away and replaced by a burning sensation in Charlie's throat and lungs. Charlie wished that the vision, dream, or whatever it was, would come back; he wanted nothing more than seeing his family again. The pain escalated and Charlie's instinct to survive kicked in. All that mattered now was breathing.
Charlie coughed and sputtered. He was breathing, he was alive. Charlie forced his eyes open and was immediately blinded by bright white light. When his vision cleared, he noticed a man sitting over him in white robes tied around the waist with a drawstring belt. Charlie blinked. So many questions had just formed in his mind that he didn't know which to asked first.
"What happened to me? Am I dead?" he asked of the man. His throat hurt from talking, and he coughed again. "Who are you?"
"I'm Jacob." the man responded simply. He continued as if that was the only introduction necessary. "What I need for you to do now Charlie is to swim out of here." Charlie wondered how this 'Jacob' knew his name. Suddenly his head throbbed, and for a moment his vision darkened. "You're going to pass out again, but when you wake up...swim out, and you'll find me on the beach. I'll be waiting for you to answer any questions you may have."
Charlie struggled to stay conscious so he could ask his questions now. This bloke was a few sandwiches short of a picnic in Charlie's opinion, and he still wasn't positive that he was alive. His eyes closed. It was no good, he couldn't stay awake.
The man shook Charlie with urgency. "Charlie! Charlie listen to me!" the man's voice was fading, and Charlie was fading into darkness again. Everything was quiet, except for someone far off saying, "I have a job for you to do." Charlie could barely hear him. He passed out before he could hear anything else.
Somehow, Charlie found himself on the beach. He was facedown in the sand as the waves lapped against him gently, nudging him further up the shore. With the sun on his back, and the sound of the waves surrounding him, Charlie felt more comfortable than he ever had been in his life. Maybe I should lie down for a bit... he thought.
"Wake up," an Australian voice pleaded softy in his ear, "Come on Charlie," He felt a light hand touch his shoulder and shake him slightly. Charlie wondered if this was all just a bad dream. He hoped more than hope that he would open his eyes to see Claire's own blue ones; that he would be back on their beach, in their tent. He could almost hear Aaron crying, and his paternal urge kicked in to comfort his son.
"You have to wake up Charlie, open your eyes, please," Charlie almost did, and he raised his head. And then, he grew worried that this all was was a dream, maybe even a hallucination, and when he opened his eyes, she would be gone.
"I will always love you Charlie," she whispered. Claire's voice faded, as did her touch on his shoulder. Instantly he felt alone, and despite the sun beating on his back, cold, desolate, and empty. A gentle wave washed over his head and pulled back down. Charlie remembered drowning, and not surprisingly, he began to feel uncomfortable in the water. Using all the strength he had, Charlie forced himself into a standing position and struggled up the beach.
His legs felt like lead, and he was doubled over in pain. Keep going, he ordered himself, keep going. Charlie finally made it back to the tree line and fell to his knees from the exertion and pain he had just put his body through. He knelt there for a while, panting and regaining his strength. I have to find my friends, I have to find Claire, he reminded himself as motivation.
"Are you okay?" a voice asked. Charlie looked up. It was that Jacob bloke again, smiling down at Charlie, still wincing in pain, like a complete git.
"Oh, it's you," Charlie started, "I'd love to sit and chat, but I have friends to meet up with. They'll be thinking I'm dead, I expect. I'm probably going to give them quite a scare" he joked the situation off lightly. The man frowned.
"I'm sorry Charlie, I can't let you do that." he frowned again.
"What? Let me? Who are you to say what I can and can't do?" Charlie demanded. Jacob sighed, as if he expected this and just now realized how much of a hassle it would be. Charlie would have gotten up and walked off, but he could barely move at all and he was starving. Jacob seemed to know this, because in one hand he had a net of fish he had caught, and in the other, a large wine bottle with a rounded bottom, filled with water.
"I'm Jacob, and if you'll-" he began. He lifted the bottle slightly to offer it to Charlie.
"Yeah, I know who you are, thanks." Charlie interjected, growing more and more annoyed of Jacob by the second, "Why can't I leave?" he glared at Jacob, who smiled back as though they were just two old friends who hadn't seen each other for a while.
"You can't leave because I have a job for you to do. It's important." They stood for a while, face to face, as the waves pounded the shore. For some reason, that he didn't quite understand himself, Charlie believed Jacob, and believed what he had to say was, in fact, important.
Charlie almost left Jacob, but he needed the water, and they were a lot further from his camp than he ad thought. There was no way for him to get food or water alone, so he followed Jacob. The walk was grueling, even with Jacob helping him along the way. Finally, they came to one of the strangest things Charlie had ever seen. A giant, four-toed foot was standing on a pedestal, but the rest of the statue was missing. In the rectangular platform, an opening led to a room within.
Charlie and Jacob sat down on the beach. Jacob cooked the fish on a little fire, and passed the water to Charlie. Most of it was gone after their walk, but Charlie had his fill. The fire crackled, and the sun began to set. Neither spoke to the other as they ate in silence. Charlie eyed the door again. Finally, Charlie broke the silence.
"What's in there?" he jerked his head to the door. Jacob turned and then laughed to himself. Charlie then heard him mutter something, but he couldn't make it out.
"No one goes in unless I invite them in." He said in a manner that suggested he had said it a thousand times.
"Look, mate. You drag me out here, tell me I've got a job to do, and you won't even let me have shelter? You're off your head if you think I'm staying here and listening to you! I've got friends! I've got family!"
Jacob looked at the door again. "You know what?" he began, "Let's go inside" He then stood up abruptly, and without another word, headed for the door. Charlie followed cautiously, more than just a few paces behind. He stepped over the threshold, and felt as though he stepped back in time. The sandstone tunnel led to a room that looked ancient. All the furnishings, rugs, even the tapestry in the wall looked like a mix of Egyptian and Roman. Charlie got an uneasy feeling that this 'Jacob' was somehow important.
Charlie walked in further. Jacob was sitting by a massive fire pit in the center of the room. Charlie sat on the floor.
"So,... you have a, a job for me to do?" Charlie began and looked around the room, "do you need my help redecorating? Interior design really isn't really my area of expertise" Charlie chuckled at his own joke. Jacob merely smiled at Charlie like he was talking to a child in grade-school.
"Something a bit more important than that," he began. "Charlie, in a few weeks, five of your friends are going to make a mistake. They're going to leave this island and everyone else behind-including Claire. And then, in three years they're going to come back and make an even greater mistake."
"Wait," Charlie interrupted, "you said Claire would be left behind. What about Aaron?"
"Aaron will leave and be raised by Kate, and, for a while, Jack." Charlie felt as though he'd swallowed a brick. Claire, what would happen to her without Aaron? Would she go bonkers like the French-women when she lost her child? Charlie opened his mouth to tell Jacob he had some nerve, but Jacob raised his hand to stop him.
"Charlie, you can't change what is going to happen."
"What about me? I drowned and you stopped it! Why can't you put just Claire on the helicopter!?"
"Charlie, no one was there to see you drown. For them, that reality is open- it could have gone either way. You were supposed to live. It's just that no one will know that until later."
"How much later?" Charlie demanded. His heart pounded.
"Four years" Jacob estimated, "Maybe longer." Charlie let it sink in. This had to be wrong, it must be impossible or some sick joke. He couldn't live without Claire and Aaron for over four years. They were his family.
Jacob, seeing that Charlie had quieted in his shock, took the opportunity to continue his narrative. "Three years from now, a man named Daniel Faraday will convince your friends to detonate the core of a hydrogen bomb in the hatch. They'll that believe without the hatch, your plane won't crash on the island." he sighed and shook his head, "Your plane crashed because I brought it here. Their plan won't work, and they'll be in danger. That's where you come in..."