Lostlorenzo: Hey! Lost last week was so good, but so infuriating! I am so pissed off at Locke right now. And Claire, but at least she had a decent reason to be acting the way she was. Poor Charlie, eveyone was treating him like shit. I felt so bad for him, I almost cried. But any way, back to the story. This next chapter is pretty long, so I hope you enjoy!

Charlie'sHoodie: Hey, good to hear from you again! Glad your enjoying the story so far, I hope you contenuie to do so. Oh, and thanks for all the reveiws!

Summersrage: Hey, thanks for the reveiw. Hope you like the next chapter!

One week later...

It was bright out, very early. Charlie finished pulling his plain white T-shirt over his head and grabbed his coat off the bed post. Once he located his dusty pair of checkerboard vans and slipped them on, he carefully opened the door, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the women who's apartment he was sneaking out of was still asleep.

He lightly closed the door behind him and crept out into the living room, where he noticed the TV was on. She must have woken up sometime last night while he was asleep, he noted as he paused to stare at the screen. It had been a long time since he'd actually watched tv, the news especially.

He decided it wasn't worth the risk of her catching him before he left, and started to head for the front door when he heard a familiar name being mentioned by the news caster on screen. He stopped once again to listen.

"This was the third attack that has been placed on one of the survivors of Flight 815 in the past week. Police are working on investigations after Michael Dawson was found in his apartment this morning" The reporter explained, standing in front of the apartment she was speaking of.

In shock, Charlie dropped his coat to the ground, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. "Police showed up hear at midnight after receiving a call from Mr. Dawson's son, Walt, who over heard the struggle and called for help. The attacker was gone before the officers arrived. Mr. Dawson is now at a local hospital and doctors say he is making a clean recovery, as with the other two victims, and should be out with in a day." The reporter continued.

Charlie could barely believe what he was hearing. His hands griped the back of the couch as he leaned forward, listening closely, hanging on the reporters every word.

"Busted" out of no where, a pair of arms slid around his waist. Charlie straighten up, startled, and looked over his shoulder, realizing he'd been caught. "Hey' He choked, not knowing what else to say. "What? You weren't going to say good buy before you left?" Mya, the women who'd taken him home last night, questioned, sliding her arms around his neck as he turned to face her.

"I didn't want to wake you" He replied, sounding a little nervous. "Aw, how considerate" He muttered sarcastically, and leaned up to kiss him. After a moment, they're lips parted and she let her arms drop from around his neck. "Well, get your coat. Its almost noon, my husbands gonna be home for lunch" She explained casually, pinching him on the ass before she walked around the couch and headed towards the kitchen.

"I didn't know you were married" Charlie noted, slightly offended. "Must have slipped my mind" She replied from the kitchen in a sarcastic tone. Charlie frowned and knelt down to pick up his coat. With an offended look, he pulled it on and headed towards the door. Just as his hand meet the knob he felt her tug at the belt loop on the back of his pants.

"Hey, aren't you gonna say good bye?" She questioned, pressing him back against the door. Charlie stared at her blankly for a moment as he searched for the knob. "I don't think you husband would approve" Charlie explained with a smirk, and headed out the door.

He headed down the hall and out onto the street, witch was technically where he lived at the time. It was a little windy out, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and wondered down to the board walk to meet up with Tommy.

Last night had been a waist of time. Sure, it had gotten him a bed and a badge as a home wrecker, but that was about it. No food, no shower, no clean cloths. If he was gonna keep this up, he was gonna have to find someone who's home was a little more welcoming.

He didn't want to keep this up. He wanted to quit relying on Tommy and get a real home. He wanted to see Claire. The information he'd overheard on the news didn't help much. Three victims, and he only knew about one.

What if Claire was one of them? The thought alone made him sick. This was something he'd have to look into. After all, these were his friends. At least, they used to be.

He made it to the board walk and stopped at the wooden rail to look out at the beach. It was still pretty early, so not a lot of people were out and about. This also may have something to do with the gray color of the sky. Charlie leaned on the rail and watched the waves roll in. It reminded him of the beach on the island. Although that one was much cleaner, much more pleasant.

Thinking about the beach made him think of Claire. After all, the two of them and Aaron practically lived there. It was like they'd made they're own little suburbia. Sometimes he wondered rather they all would have been better off living on the island.

He'd been so lost in his thoughts that when he noticed Claire, holding Aaron on her hip as she walked along the sand, he thought he might have been hallucinating. But they were really there, along with Jack, who walked beside her, plus Jin and Sun close behind.

He watched them for a moment, trying to decide rather or not to go down. After all, he wasn't exactly presentable, wearing the only pair of cloths he owned and neither him or his clothes had been washed in a few days. With a sigh, he let his arms fall from the rail and turned to walk away, carelessly bumping into a young women who had been standing close by.

"Whoa, sorry" He apologized, taking a step back as he looked up in surprise. "No, no. My fault. Its what I get for standing so close to people" The young women laughed in reply. She was a few inches taller then him, but very petite. "Well, I'm sure my spacing out had something to do with it" Charlie replied, willing to take some of the blame.

The girl laughed nervously. "Sorry, its just...you look really familiar" she explained, looking a little embarrassed. "I do?" Charlie questioned in surprise. He doubted that this girl was a drive shaft fan. He hadn't run into one in a long time. But how else would she know him?

"Have you watched the news any time in the past month?" He questioned with a hint of sarcasm. "Maybe once or twice" The girl replied with a laugh. "Well, I was on flight 180, so if you recognize me, its probably something to do with that" He explained with a mildly embarrassed smile.

"Are you serious?" She questioned, in disbelief. "Fraid so" He replied with a shrug. "Wow. That must have been one hell of an experience" She noted, sarcastically. "Yeah, you could say that" He replied with a nod. For a while, the two laughed awkwardly, not really knowing what to say.

"Well, I'm headed to that little bar on 9th street. If you want, you can tag along and tell me just how interesting experience it was" She suggested after a moment, a seductive smile across her face. The advance took Charlie by surprise, and for a moment he didn't know what to say.

"Sure. That would be great" He replied after a short moment of consideration. "Great" She confirmed with a grin, and turned on her heels. "Oh, by the way, my names Nellie" She explained, turning back around quickly. "Charlie" He replied with a grin. "Nice to meet you, Charlie" She noted with a laugh, and turned around once again. Charlie followed.

He didn't know who this girl was, or why she was so interested in him, but none of that mattered. This was a chance for free food, and if he was lucky, a bed and maybe even a shower if she wasn't married and rushing him out by noon. Things seemed to be looking up, but as he followed, he couldn't help but look back at the beach where Claire sat along with the rest of those familiar faces from his past.

There you go again, Charlie, he thought to himself. Always looking back. With that thought in mind, he turned around and faced Nellie, his temporary savior, and let her lead the way.

Lostlorenzo: I know what you mean, I've been getting a little up set with Claire. I think the fact that she shunned him was a little rash, because it was pretty obvious that he wasn't using. I mean, the statue hadn't been opened or anything. But then again, after what happened with Thomas, you can't really blame her for overreacting. I'm pretty sure that what ever Charlie's predicting about Aaron is true, witch hopefully means that after he comes to the rescue (again), they will make up. lol. A Charlie and Claire kiss would be great, but It probably won't be them. Oh well. No matter what, we get to see Charlie shirtless and that, in itself, is worth getting excited about :D any way, back to the story. Sawyer was one of the three that were attacked, you'll find out a lot more details in this chapter. Well, thanks for the proper review, hope to hear more from you soon!

Summers rage: Hey, glad your enjoying the story. I'll try to keep it interesting!

CharliesHoodie: Thank you for all the reviews! I'm glad to hear from you and very pleased that you like the story. Its getting a lot more intense soon, so you should definitely keep reading.

Same day...

"Mum, were home" Claire called, kicking the door shut behind her. Aaron was about to doze off, and she wanted to hurry and get him up to bed before something upset him. After a lack of response from her mother, Claire headed upstairs and into her room.

She laid Aaron down in his crib and tucked him in. After spending all day at the beach, it was no wonder he was tired. In fact, Claire felt pretty exhausted herself. But it wasn't the excitement of being back on the beach that was making her tired, it was the emotion of knowing that three of your friends were currently in a hospital after being attacked, and no one knew who was next.

Ever since Hurly's attack, Claire had been worried sick. She lived day to day in constant fear that she, or even worse, Aaron, would be attacked. She felt like she was back on the beach. Back on the island. Back where no one was safe. This was supposed to be civilization. The name of the street she lived on was "Sivil" for fucks sake. So why, why didn't she feel safe?

Once Aaron was asleep, Claire wondered over to her bed and laid down. She snatched the remote of the end table and turned on the TV, keeping the volume low. She stared for a moment at the screen where a female reporter stood, once again going over the details of the attacks.

At the bottom of the screen, she could see the faces of Sawyer, Hurly and Michele, all to familiar. Nothing like the way they looked now, laying motionless in their hospital beds. Not because they were dead or unconscious, but because they were in shock. What ever happened to them hadn't just broke them physically, it had broken their minds.

None of them spoke about the attacks. None of them would say a word. The detectives were all at a loss for conclusions. All we knew was that someone was attacking them, the survivors.

Claire turned the TV back off, rolled over, and buried her face into the pillow. She let all the stress, all sadness, all the fear run out of her and into her pillow in soft, wet streaks. After sobbing for a good ten minutes, Claire finally managed to cry herself to sleep.

After a while, images began to form in her mind. Images of her room. Everything in its place.

She sat up and looked around, a dreamy daze still lingering with her. Slowly, the sound dawned upon her. The sound of crying. She knew it was Aaron right away, and gradually climbed out of bed. Sleepily, she wondered over to the crib and peered over the edge, startled to find it empty.

"Aaron?" She called, as if he could answer. But her only response was the continuous cries, witch were now clearly coming from outside her room. Claire walked to the door and stepped out into the hall. Just as she made it out, she saw the shadow of a person holding a bundle in its arms. Both the silhouette and the cries moved swiftly down the stair case, disappearing from her view in an instant.

"Aaron!" She called once again, and quickly ran down the hall, her bare feet pounding against the hardwood floors as she raced to the stairs. She reached the top just in time to see the figure slip out the front door, not even bothering to close it afterwards. Claire rushed down the stairs, stumbling most of the way. Once she reached the floor, she speed out the door, looking from side to side in order to locate the figure.

She could still hear the cries, and they seemed to be coming from the right side of the street, so she ran that way. She could see the figure ducking behind corners here and there, leaving its shadow behind just long enough for her to spot it and chance after. And all the while, over Aaron's harsh cries, she could hear whispering.

The figure lead her far down the street and into the woods that sat just outside their neighborhood. It wasn't very big, since she lived just outside the city, but it was still full of places to hide.

As soon as she stepped off the gravel of the street and onto the floor bed of the forest, the sun behind her seemed to disappear. Once was once a sunny, bright, suburban street went completely dark behind her, and she was left to find her way through the trees with little light to guide her. All she had to fallow was the sound of Aaron's cries.

She ran through the woods, that seemed to be growing warmer and warmer as she went, ignoring the pain from running over twigs and leafs in her bare feet. The lack of breath, the cramp in her side, the pain in her muscles, none of that mattered. She was running on pure maternal instinct, and she was goinging to let nothing, nothing hurt that baby.

It seemed like she had been following the figure for hours when she finally spotted a light through the trees. It was bright, to bright to see what was creating it. But what ever it was, the figure was moving towards it, and so did she. It wasn't until Claire had passed through the trees that she realized where the light was coming from: The beach.

At first, she couldn't believe what she was seeing, but she couldn't gape in disbelief for long. She spotted Aaron, warped in his blanket, floating on a piece off wood out in the waves. She didn't take time to react. She simply jolted forward, running full speed across the sand and into the waves until she reached the screaming bundle and cradled him in her arms.

"Shh" She coed, holding him against her chest in an attempt to comfort him. She was so caught up in her attempt to calm the screaming child that she was not aware of the figure approaching until she'd been hit over the head. She fell forward into the waves, loosing hold of Aaron on her way down.

She tossed beneath the waves, trying to find her way to the surface, but the figure held her down. No matter how hard she struggled, it wouldn't let go. She was losing breath fast. She could feel herself getting light headed. Slowly, the movements of her limbs began to weaken, and she didn't have the strength to struggle back. She was slipping away.

It wasn't until she was almost completely gone that she woke up. Her mother, who had been trying to shake her awake, sat back and stared at her in concern. Claire coughed and gasped for breath. She was shaking all over and covered in a clod sweat. She could hear Aaron crying, and quickly looked over into his crib. He was there, red and screaming, but he was there. She gave a sigh of relief.

"Claire, hun, are you all right?" Abby questioned in concern, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Claire was still stuck in a dreamy state, and was having some trouble pulling herself out. It felt so real. Tears rolled down her cheeks, that had gone pale with fear. Without a word, Claire hopped out of bed and walked over to Aaron's crib, scooping him up and holding him tight against her chest.

"Claire, what's going on?" Abby insisted in a quiet tone, trying to calm her down. "I had a bad dream" Claire explained in a shaky voice, looking at her mother over her shoulder. "Oh" Abby nodded, understanding. "Do you want to talk about it?" She questioned, with a worried look.

Claire shook her head the way a shy five year old would, and continued to rock the baby in her arms. She seemed distant, as if she were in a daze. Something in her dream was still haunting her. Abby was curious to know what, but unfortunately, they had more important things to focus on.

"Claire, dear, why don't you come sit down?" Abby suggested, tapping the side of the bed. Claire peered at her over her shoulder for a moment, then nodded and walked over to the bed. She settled down onto the mattress, holding a still-crying Aaron on her lap. She stared at Abby, waiting for her to speak.

Abby opened her mouth once or twice, but no words came out. What ever she was trying to say, wasn't easy to spit out. She sighed and turned on the bed, finding the remote on the floor and turning the TV on. "Here, watch this. It will explain" Abby said in a soft, serious tone. Her voice trembled as if she were going to cry, but she was trying to stay strong. This worried Claire.

She turned her attention away from her mom, and to the news report on TV, already somewhat prepared for what she was about to see. "Today, another attack on one of the survivors of flight 180 has accrued" The reporter explained, talking directly to the camera. "The victim was found in an ally outside an apartment, witch witnesses say he was staying for the night." The women continued in a cold monotone.

"Nellie Morgan, a the owner of the apartment the victim was staying in, told police that she'd gone to the bath room and taken a shower. When she came out, the he was inside. She claims the attacker was armed with a knife and wore no mask, but still, she could not identify his face.

She says that he and the victim struggled after the attacker had tried to stab him with some sort of needle, and the fight ended in the victim being knocked through a window and onto a fire escape, where he fell through the opening and down 6 flights before hitting the ground. Astonishingly, the victim was not killed" The reporter explained in a grim, shocking voice.

Claire watched this in shock, unable to react until the picture of the "victim" appeared at the bottom of the screen. Then her face went white, her jaw trembled, her arms clutched protectively around her baby as the reporter continued on about the victim, Charlie Pace.