Title: Someone to Answer My Cries
Chapter One: Mother Mary
Disclaimer: Nope, Nada. I do not own Lost. All of that credit goes to JJ Abrams and the people at ABC. Obviously, I am not one of them.
Summary: Charlie decides to tell Claire his secret, hoping that she, of all people, will be able to save him from his haunting past. Rated T for drug reference and mild swear words. R&R.
A/N: This is my first Lost fic, so I hope you all enjoy! This takes place POST Exodus; however, there will not be any reference to the hatch or the raft, because this is strictly a C/C story. I am currently working on a Season Two fiction which I will hopefully post sometime before October, which will include theories, returning/new casts, a little romance, twins and of course, drama. I don't know if I will end up posting it, but for now, it's just an idea in my head.
more kiss could be the best thing
but one more lie could be the worst
and all these thoughts are never resting
and you're not something I deserve." – 3 Doors Down
It had been almost a week since Charlie had taken the drugs from the African plane, which were now stored with the Virgin Mary statue, protectively hidden under a few blankets. He was scared to death that someone would find it – Oh, God, not Claire – but a blanket was looking like the safest hiding spot in the damned caves! Each morning, he woke up to Mary's gaze, which lingered in his mind, for the next precious hours before he would look upon it again. For six days, he had been able to disregard the drugs, but it was getting harder and harder to everyday.
He would think of the statue constantly. While he was collecting firewood, while he was visiting the spring for some water, even when he was with Claire! And that's what hurt most of all. Knowing that Claire could only save him for so long…
He was twitching his fingers non-stop. He had begun to feel that longing of the heroin on his tongue again, but each time so far, he had managed to stop himself from grabbing the baggies. Think about Claire, he would mutter to himself, and Aaron. You can't do this to them…
And yet, he knew he could. All it was going to take was a convincing look from the Madonna Figurine and a split-second decision to take the bags for his entire life to spin out of control, again. But, wasn't it spinning already? The drugs had already begun the addicting process by forcing him to think about it regularly. He needed to do something… Burn it!
Yea, burning it sounded like a good idea!
Except for the fact that Charlie couldn't even find the strength to touch the statue, let alone carry it multiple feet away and drop it into a fire! Damn it!
He glared at the figurine. Think about Claire, he reminded himself again. When he had first brought the drugs back to camp, before they had become so tempting, he had told himself to "think happy thoughts" in order to drive the heroin out of his mind. But now, "happy" was the way he felt when he was high, and he hated himself for thinking that way.
He was a monster.
…A large, uncontrollable, devouring beast that obsessed about its prey.
Charlie was looking at the statue once again, perched on his knees, ready to pounce.
Ex-addict. Ex-addict. Ex-addict. Ex-addict.
Charlie shook his head and sat back down, still eying the statue. He wouldn't let this come between him and Claire. He was more responsible than that now. He had to be.
"Why?" He asked Mary, his voice echoing lightly around the cave, "Why, now?"
He heard a shuffle of leaves and rocks outside, Charlie's cue to violently cover the drugs with his pillow.
Claire walked into the cave, Aaron balanced on her hip. Charlie averted his eyes, ashamed more than ever of his near-acceptance of his previous life.
"Are you alright? I thought I heard you talking."
"No," he answered, allowing his eyes flickering her way for just a moment. "I'm fine."
Claire looked down at him sitting so miserably against the stone wall. He seemed positively hopeless, but from what, she didn't know.
His short answers were concerning her. She remembered with a faint smile how he used to babble unconsciously whenever he saw her. But something had changed. He wouldn't even look her in the eye, for God's sake!
Claire had a theory. Nobody liked to be pressured relentlessly, so why not wait patiently for him to open up?
If he ever opened up, that is…
But Claire had faith in Charlie. She always had and always would. So, re-arranging Aaron in her arms, she sat down cross-legged next to him, musing about his strange behaviors this past week. Five days ago, he had started to get quiet when he talked to her. Three days ago, he started avoiding eye contact. He had gone from cute, babbling idiot, to silent stranger in less than a week.
After a while without exchanged words, Claire moved Aaron into her lap, so she could hold Charlie's arm, and lean her head against his shoulder. He didn't brush her away, but he didn't acknowledge the change either.
"Charlie, why won't you talk to me?"
He didn't even answer, just continued to stare at the fine cracks along the wall.
"You're all quiet, and you don't even…" She paused, placing her hand under his chin, "Charlie, look at me."
When he turned, she could tell he was trying not to cry. His eyes were watery and shiny, and his mouth was quivering slightly.
Claire continued to rest her hand on his cheek as she whispered, "we miss you. Aaron misses you." She gulped, "I miss you."
"Don't say that…" His voice was frustrated, almost pleading.
"What do you mean?" Claire studied his eyes, trying hard to find the cause of his pain hidden within them. But all she found was an indistinctive shadow.
"I'm not a good person, Claire. I'm not who you think I am." Every word was taking so much effort to pronounce, he had to look away from her. "I'm not a hero, okay? You didn't know me before the crash. Claire, I was a mess!"
"Shh…" Claire hugged him sweetly, trying to make his worries go away. "No, you are my hero, Charlie. You brought back Aaron to me."
He put his face in his hands, angry with himself for taking the statue, angry at himself for lying to Claire.
"You made me happy, despite this horrible island. You looked me in the eye, when nobody else would."
At this, Charlie turned around to face her, remembering their conversation in the tent, a lifetime ago.
'You don't scare me…'
"Charlie, you had a difficult past, but didn't we all? The important thing is that you admitted you were wrong, and I'm proud of you for that."
"I don't deserve this." His insides twisted with resentment towards himself.
"Of course you do." She attempted to hold him again, but he wouldn't let her.
"NO, I don't!" He stood up, turning his back to her and walking to the other side of the cave. He didn't deserve this! The proof was hiding there, under his pillow.
At the noise Charlie was making, Aaron started to cry.
Claire was quiet a moment, before standing up and cuddling Aaron into her arms. It was her time to leave, she could take a hint. Part of her was sympathetic towards his hurt, but a bigger part was upset that Charlie wouldn't even talk to her about it.
She made her way softly to the entrance of the cave, disappointed at the way he was acting. But just as she stepped outside, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning, Claire could see tear marks on his cheeks, but Charlie now looked desperately at her.
"Will you help me?"
A/N: So, how is it for my first shot at a "lost-y"? Please review! Constructive criticism is always welcome! Hope you all enjoyed!
Oh, and if I don't update for 10 days, don't worry. I will be on vacation and will update when I get back. I just wanted to get the first chapter out of the way before I left!