Lullaby Written: November 12, 2004 I dreamt this story, woke up at 5am, and wrote it down all at once. It's never been beta'd or revised. Takes place directly after episode 1.8, "Confidence Man." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Charlie woke up shaking. It took him a second to realize it wasn’t of his own doing – nothing hurt at this particular moment, except perhaps for the large hand squeezing into his upturned shoulder as it shook him again, this time with an accompanying whisper. “Dude.” Charlie opened his eyes. Hurley’s face was tilted sideways, looming over him as he squatted beside Charlie’s pallet and peered into the recesses of his hoodie. Charlie rubbed at his gritty eyes with one hand. “This had better be a hallucination,” he muttered. Hurley’s face was stark in what was left of the night’s firelight. He tucked a curl behind one ear, and it was then that Charlie got a good look at his expression. “What’s wrong, Hurley?” Hurley bit his lower lip. “It’s Claire.” Charlie sat up at once, swiping his hood back from his face. “What’s wrong? Where is she?” Hurley looked supremely uncomfortable, but behind that Charlie could see the bright traces of real fear. “Baby stuff,” Hurley said. “Pretty bad.” Charlie scrambled to his feet and followed him through the maze of pallets and sleeping bodies. The cave was much cooler at night, damp with dew and pitch black in the corners, and Charlie’s heart began to pound as he pulled his sweatshirt tighter about him. “She told me not to wake you up,” Hurley was whispering behind him. “But she looked pretty freaked to me.” Claire’s pallet lay at the mouth of the cave, facing the rocks that guarded the entrance – the last place in the shelter to lose light at dusk and the first to gain it each morning. Charlie could see her journal lying open on her luggage, words his eyes were too bloodshot and blurry to see. A flower was pressed between the pages. She was sitting against a stone, propped on the extra pillows that Jack had forced upon her, knees drawn up and hands curled around the enormous swell of her belly. Her head lifted when Charlie knelt beside her, and her face was white and wet in the moonlight. Her eyes went wide and she sniffed, trying to straighten from her hunched, protective ball. “I’m alright,” she whispered. “Charlie, I’m alright.” Charlie opened his water bottle and reached for her cup. “How long?” he said. Claire’s knees were shaking. She took the cup of water and drained it, one hand never leaving her stomach. When the cup was empty she took a steadying breath. “About an hour,” she said. “It’s just cramps. The baby moving around and stuff. It happens.” Charlie watched her, his brow creasing. “I made you do too much today,” he said, thinking of her carrying her backpack across the beach in the afternoon sun. Claire looked at him, the pain in her face easing as she tilted her head. “No,” she said. “No, Charlie, you didn’t make me do anything.” She bit her lip suddenly and bent again over her belly, stroking it with both hands and letting out a shaky breath. Charlie felt a sharp twinge of alarm and moved to get up. “I’ll fetch Jack.” She stopped him, grabbing his wrist before he could stand. “No, don’t,” she said. “It’ll pass.” She looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry to wake you. You’re still sick, you shouldn’t be looking after me so much.” “No, it’s alright, Hurley—“ Charlie looked behind him, but Hurley was nowhere to be seen. Charlie looked around, brow furrowing, and then turned back to Claire and put his water bottle among her things. He watched her breathe. “What can I do?” he whispered. She looked up at him. Her hair stuck in wet strings along her neck. Her breath trembled in her throat as she tried to remain still. “Stay with me?” She looked down at her belly as it tensed and shifted, and fresh tears wet her eyes. She spread her fingers around the spasming shape. “I guess he gets lonely too.” Charlie stared at her. Claire’s stomach leapt again, going tight and hard, and she hitched a breath and squeezed her eyes closed. She laid her head back against the stone and tried to breathe through her tears. Her fingers twitched on her belly; her feet stretched out wearily in front of her. Charlie watched the baby kick and twist inside of Claire’s body. He had promised not to be afraid of her, and he wasn’t. But he was suddenly, painfully terrified for her. For them. For the first time, Charlie looked at the round swell of her and thought of what it meant, what it really meant, and knew that there was someone else he couldn’t allow himself to be afraid of. Claire’s eyes opened when she felt Charlie’s hand on her stomach. It was smooth beneath his palm, and hard, skin stretched tight and full beneath the thin fabric of her shirt. Her navel fit perfectly into the hollow of his palm, and he felt a hesitant smile flit across his face. Claire turned her head and stared at him without a sound. He felt a sudden, sharp tap against his hand, pushing at his fingers, and Claire’s legs tensed at the same moment. Charlie tilted his head, feeling the small, restless movement beneath his fingertips. He saw his hand begin to move in a slow, light circle, and it was only when he felt Claire go very still that he realized the sound in his head was his own voice. Close your eyes Have no fear The monster's gone He's on the run and your daddy's here Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Beautiful boy Charlie’s hand never stopped moving as he sang, his voice soft and light in the echoing darkness of the cave. Claire’s tremors began to slow, her breathing evening out as the weight of her belly grew softer and warm beneath his palm. Before you go to sleep Say a little prayer Every day in every way It's getting better and better Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Beautiful boy Charlie could see the stars from where he sat; he looked up into them once and then over at Claire’s face. She lay heavily against her pillows, her eyes warm and glowing with a simple, shining smile. She drew in a long breath and closed her eyes. Her hand slid atop his and squeezed once before settling softly on her belly. Charlie covered her fingers with his own, and then ran his palm across the slow rise and fall of her breathing. Before you cross the street, take my hand Life is what happens to you While you're busy making other plans Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Beautiful boy Before you go to sleep Say a little prayer Every day in every way It's getting better and better Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful beautiful boy Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful beautiful boy She was asleep before his voice had finished fading into the recesses of the cave. He sat back on his heels and watched her, her slack face peaceful in the moonlight. It was only when he looked down at where their fingers touched that he realized his hands were not shaking. He brushed a stray hair from Claire’s forehead and smiled, and then turned to slip away and back to his bed. Hurley stood behind him. In his arms were the bundled blankets of Charlie’s pallet. He looked at Charlie from around the lump of Charlie’s pillow. Charlie looked up at him, blinking. Hurley gave a little shrug and smiled. “You need to get some sleep, dude,” he said. Charlie opened his mouth, but Hurley said, “I’ll bring the rest of your stuff.” Charlie looked back behind him, and then looked up at Hurley and smiled. “I’ll need my guitar,” he said. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ back