ficinabottle

Hello!

I wrote a LOST one-shot Charlie/Claire fic, and just finished typing it up today.

(Yes, I am a Charlie/Claire shipper. They make the cutest couple!)

Anyhow...

Title: In Need of a Fix.
Rating: PG-13, for drug references.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from LOST- they belong to the genius JJ Abrams and their respectful actors.
Summary: As Charlie tries to sort out his feelings for Claire, the matter is made even more complicated by his heroin addiction.

In Need of a Fix
By: Anólindë
A/N: Hello, everyone! This is my first LOST fic, so I’ll have you know immediately that it may not be as good as the others. I am definitely open to corrections/constructive criticism, and would appreciate you leaving some, should you choose to review. Flames I will accept, as long as you give valid reasons for your hatred of my works. I hope you enjoy the story!

Heroin.

As Charlie Pace stood on the sandy, beautiful beach, he reflected that, after being stranded upon an island after a plane crash with forty-eight strangers, having been informed that the search parties were looking for them in all the wrong places, and finding that there was a French woman somewhere on the isle whose companions had been killed by the mysterious monster also inhabiting this place, it was quite ironic that all he could think about was drugs.

Five whole hours, he thought miserably, marveling at how pathetic he was. It’s only been five hours, and already I want it so badly.

He supposed that the only reason he hadn’t passed into nervous convulsions already was because he had inflicted this upon himself. As much as he currently detested his brother, Liam, for bringing about the nearly certain end of their band DriveSHAFT, he had seen the look in his eyes when he learned that his younger sibling was still abusing heroin. He supposed Liam had been ‘sober’ (would you say that even if you didn’t excessively drink alcohol?) for quite some time now, having a daughter to care for, and that made him realize that he may have wanted his niece to think of him as something other than her high, wasted uncle.

This didn’t mean that he was trying to give the heroin up. Oh, not by a long shot. However, at the rate of dosages per day he had been going, it would be all too soon that he ran out. And what if they were still on this island in the middle of nowhere? The withdrawal would be painful, and there would be no way to conceal it from the other survivors. He knew that Jack, the doctor, already suspected something; he was also willing to bet that Sawyer, the hot-tempered man who had attracted the hate of at least three castaways, was more observant than he let on. The rest of them, though…

Charlie sighed, the noise covered by the roar of the pounding waves. He remembered, when he was little, he and Liam used to love going to the beach. During the summer, their family rented a cottage barely a block away from the ocean. Not a day ever passed (barring cold or rain) where they didn’t beg for their parents’ permission to go to the water. And at the height of their popularity, DriveSHAFT had hosted a concert at the very place where its lead singer used to vacation.

Breaking himself out of his reverie, Charlie turned around and scanned the scene of wreckage, searching for someone, anyone, he could help. Aside from accompanying the two resident love interests, Jack and Kate, on an ill-fated excursion to the cockpit of the plane, and also going along on the trip where Sawyer had shot a polar bear, he hadn’t really done that much. He knew that some of the survivors were sorting through the luggage, trying to find any useful items. Perhaps he could join.

After a moment, his wandering eye spotted a wheelchair, just sitting there near the fuselage. Thinking that he could at least sit down in it, Charlie made his way over. He wondered who had been using it, and how they had died. Only God knows, he mused absent-mindedly as he pulled the chair back a few feet.

Just then, he saw Claire a yard away from him. Claire was a happy, pleasant woman who also happened to be eight months pregnant. However, despite her handicap, she was still attempting to drag a heavy, fully loaded suitcase across the sand, and was having no small difficulty.

“Whoa, whoa, hey!” he exclaimed, rushing over and taking the suitcase out of her grip. He had no idea as to what had possessed her to attempt such a mountainous task in her condition.

Having a sudden thought, he lifted the suitcase and made to put it on the wheelchair. It was extremely bulky, and he found himself wondering how she had gotten as far as she had. “I got it, I got it,” Charlie continued as he deposited the bag upon the chair. “Yep.” If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with his addiction, he would have been mildly embarrassed at his linguistic limitations.

Claire nodded her thanks, drawing closer to him as she did so. Charlie glanced up at her, and was astounded by how beautiful she was. Locks of blonde hair tumbled freely over her shoulders, framing a lovely face with even lovelier blue eyes. As always, a trace of a smile played across her lips. She was probably one of the few optimistic people upon this island.

“Well, look on the bright side,” Charlie remarked finally. “Whoever’s this was is probably better off than we are.”

He could have smacked himself- what a complete idiot he sounded like. Am I always like this, or is it just withdrawal symptoms? he questioned himself. At the mere thought of heroin, he felt a desire for the drug burning within his chest. This was bad. He needed to keep his mind off of it.

Claire was still watching him like she expected him to do something, and he remembered that she had been trying to take it up the beach’s slope. Grasping one of the wheelchair’s handles, he started to lug it forward. He tried to suppress a smile as Claire joined him, taking the other handle and falling in step with him. At least she was doing a good job of concealing any negative impressions she had of him. “I got it,” he added, almost as an afterthought. She looked at him, but said nothing.

A moment passed in silence, during which Charlie tried and failed hideously to keep the need for a fix out of his mind. The hand that was not clamped around the wheelchair was beginning to twitch. It was not yet noticeable, but it served as a reminder that sooner or later he was going to have to make another trip into the woods.

“How’s the baby?” he inquired abruptly, glancing at Claire’s swollen stomach.

“It’s okay, I think,” she answered, her eyes performing the maternal flick downwards.

“Good,” he responded as they came to a stop and put their makeshift transportation device down. Charlie felt a strange attraction to this woman and her buoyant personality. Knowing me, though, he thought disgustedly, I’m just confusing ‘attraction’ with ‘addiction’ and her with heroin. ‘Buoyant personality’ is merely a substitute for ‘powerful way to make you forget all the problems you had with your good-for-nothing brother.’

“So your, uh, husband, was he on the flight?”

“Oh, no, I’m not married,” Claire informed him. Charlie nearly dropped the suitcase he had just lifted in surprise.

“Oh.” Great; how eloquently spoken, he berated himself. What was it about Claire that made him so tongue-tied?

She must have sensed his shock, for she then added, “I know, how modern of me.”

“Well, who needs men, right?” Charlie asked. “Bloody useless,” he continued, grunting as he put the suitcase on the ground. Was it common for women to pack their entire wardrobes when traveling?

Claire giggled at his statement, her entire face lit up by the radiance of her smile.

I wanted you to know
That I love the way you laugh

Unbidden, the words to a song he had once heard crossed floated across Charlie’s mind. Mentally shaking himself, he chuckled along with Claire. For a moment, he could almost forget about his problems with Liam, DriveSHAFT, and his heroin addiction. Almost.

“So,” Claire began, “you guys hiked all the way up that mountain for nothing, huh?”

Her words brought forth a string of memories. Sawyer shooting the polar bear, Kate confiscating his gun, Sayid instructing her on how to dismantle it. Shannon translating the French woman’s call for help, which told them all that her companions had been killed by the gargantuan monster that had been seen by no one, yet kept them awake by its constant trampling of trees. Sayid doing some amazing math with the reiteration count and discovering that the plea for rescue had been placed sixteen years, five months ago, and had been repeating ever since. They had agreed that none of the other survivors would be told of these revelations, although Charlie rather suspected that Kate had spoken with Jack.

All this and more flashed through the musician’s mind as he wiped his nose on his sleeve and nodded. Claire glanced once more at her belly, and as she did so Charlie felt an overwhelming wave of nausea. No longer could he ignore the call of his mistress. He needed her.

“So, um, can you manage from here?” he questioned, concealing his hand as it shook violently.

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Claire replied. Perhaps it was Charlie’s imagination (and that was all too likely, given his current state), but he thought he saw a disappointed look cross her face.

“Alright, cool,” he said, before turning away and heading up the beach. Is it possible to hate yourself this much?

Just as he reached the edge of the forest, he momentarily looked back. He saw Claire standing alone, her hands folded placidly over her stomach. She looked so peaceful as she gazed at the ocean with a relaxed expression upon her face. Maybe later he would strike up another conversation.

Yeah, Charlie thought with a powerful surge of self-loathing. Maybe after I get off my high. As he strode into the thick, enveloping lush green of the woods, he vowed that he would never let Claire see him as he really was.

x-posted to my LiveJournal,