Yes, yes, I know. I'm a terrible person. I'm such an irresponsible authorette. I've begun many a fic and then abandoned it and left it to die. I am ashamed. I suck.
Blame it on my short attention span.
So, I have decided that perhaps the best thing for my is to write a bunch of one-shots or two-chapter-ficlets.
I have so far written 4 fics involving my favorite ship of all time, Charlie/Claire. This is one of my favorites (I'm also quite fond of Changed), and it's' my most recent one. I just love writing short stories in a repetitive, almost poetic form that has one uniting phrase, which is what I did with this one.
Hope you like it! Review and I shall love you forever.
Peace, man, peace.
No one had ever been there for Claire.
Not one person.
She had known she was on her own since the moment she turned eight on a dim and damp October morning in 1989, alone in her pajamas on the fog laced back porch. She was grateful for the smoke filling her small, earthy kitchen, because she knew that for once it wasn't from her father's drugs. She remembered holding her ratty old teddy closely to her as the burning organic cake in the oven went neglected, just like the child it was meant for. Her mother was holed up in the bedroom, consumed by self-pity. Just like last year.
Claire had always wanted some one to take care of her, but she knew that no one ever did.
She had known since the night in her rundown apartment, alone and orphaned at nineteen in a town far away from the craphole she had grown up in. The sleek metal railing of the balcony was ice cold against her back as she contemplated whether or not she should jump to escape things. She took a breath and turned away, saving her death for another night when she needed it more.
Claire knew what she was up against.
She had known since that dry, empty night after Thomas left. She had thought she had found someone to love her, finally someone who wouldn't abandon her. She was wrong. She didn't know what to do. All that was left was this little soul inside of her that would soon become a reality. She wasn't ready for any of this. The warmth on the air clashed bitterly with the cold she felt inside. What was there for her now?
Claire had always tried to put on a brave face and be happy despite her life, but she knew it was in vain.
She had known since that horrible sinking feeling the first night on the island. She was lost to the world, a mere casualty in the news. She had been stripped of everything she had once held on to, perhaps ever her faith. She told herself that there was hope, but she wasn't sure if she really believed that. It was so hard to see the light in this darkness.
But then there came something she didn't know…
A man, to be precise. An adorably scruffy has-been in a body so small it was hard to see where he kept all the passion that he displayed in his every action. She didn't know what to expect with him. He was a breath of fresh air. Someone genuine and sincere.
He was something else. He was funny and sweet and charming and… God, she could go on for hours. The way his rough, guitar-worn fingertips felt on her skin when he touched her. The way his eyes lit up when saw her. The way he grinned down at Aaron when he held him. The way his face looked when he was making a joke – always with a twinkle.
There was just something different about him. She thought and she thought, tried to comprehend why the feeling he instilled in her was so dramatically and wonderfully different from anything she had ever felt before. After much mental deliberation, she thought she had put her finger on why.
No one had ever shown her what it was like to be truly loved.