Title: The Five Best Memories

Rating: PG/K+

Summary: Moving through the five stages of grief, Claire makes her own list of her five best memories of Charlie.

Characters: Claire, Desmond, Hurley, and Charlie in spirit

Word Count: 1,697

Warning: Spoilers through the season three finale

A/N: CAUTION! Read with tissues! You have been warned.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lost and what a crying shame that is.

Stage One: Denial and Isolation

He was soaked and shivering, and Claire quickly put Aaron down in the crib and grabbed a blanket for him, the lanky Scot that looked like Jesus. Since returning to the beach, she had been waiting in her tent for hours for some word or a sign. The more time that went by, the quieter the beach seemed to get, as if they all sensed that no news was not good news.

Desmond too had said nothing until he entered the tent and sat, allowing Claire to drape the blanket over his shoulders and then pulling it snug around him. He looked down through his knees and twisted fingers as he spoke.

"Claire," he whispered.

He didn't have to say another word. In fact, she didn't want him to. She wanted him to leave right now.

"No," she shook her head as her eyes filled with tears. "No, Desmond. Don't you dare say it."

Running his hand through his dripping hair, he was still unable to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Charlie's fine. He promised me. He'll be back, you'll see," she rambled as she turned to pick up a pile of nappies and fold them.

"Claire, I was there. I saw…" said Desmond, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder.

Claire whipped her head around and spoke a bit too sharply. "I don't care what you saw. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to be alone right now."

Without another word, Desmond stood and left.

Claire continued folding and unfolding the diapers long after he had gone. Her intention was to keep her mind off of what she had just heard, but as she looked at the blue and white squares of cloth, a memory flashed in her mind.

Charlie had made these. He had brought them as a peace offering after I threw him out of our tent for lying to me, for not admitting he was struggling to resist his drugs. Could I have been more understanding?

Stage Two: Anger

Two days later, the tears continued to spill over and run down her cheeks, but as Claire spoke to Hurley, her eyes came alight with rage.

"Charlie told me not to worry," she cried. "I assumed he knew it would be okay because he was with Desmond. He was supposed to protect him! What happened?"

"It wasn't Desmond's fault," said Hurley, cradling Aaron in his arms. The baby squirmed at the touch of the unfamiliar male. "He told me that Charlie knew. Desmond said he was a hero. Before they left, he had another one of his future flash things, and he told Charlie that he was gonna die and all, but like, if he did, then we'd all be rescued."

Claire didn't think she could be in a deeper state of shock until she processed Hurley's words. "Do you mean this was no accident? Charlie sacrificed himself for us?"

"For you," Hurley explained. "Desmond had a vision of you and Aaron getting into a helicopter."

Claire stood and stormed back into her tent, her fists clenched. Looking all around, she picked up the first thing she saw that had belonged to Charlie: his damaged guitar. Grabbing it by the neck she collapsed to the ground, raised it above her head and threw it into the sand. It was so weather-beaten that it cracked on impact.

"How could you do this to me?" she screamed as her fists pounded the hollow wood shell. "You didn't even ask me if this was what I wanted! I didn't want this! WE NEEDED YOU! YOU SAID YOU'D NEVER LEAVE ME!"

Claire didn't stop even when she noticed the stares of pity from the crowd that was gathering around her. "I didn't want this," she sobbed, hunched over, tears falling into the black hole of the instrument.

She stared down at the ruined guitar that Charlie loved but would never play again. She wanted Charlie back, so she could punch him. Claire barely sensed the shadow that was looming over her.

"If it helps at all, he wasn't alone," said the voice with the Scottish brogue. He kneeled down beside her. "I was with him until the very end, Claire. He was at peace. I'm quite sure his last thoughts were of you and your little one."

Stage Three: Bargaining

She had hoped with the passing of time it would get easier, but it was only getting worse. Everything she did, everything she looked at, reminded her of Charlie: the chair where he would sit and talk to her, the scissors she had cut his hair with, the table where he had once set down breakfast and a note.

Claire still had Charlie's pack, his clothes, and the notebook that he wrote his songs in. One day, she would be able to read it, but not yet. It still felt like an invasion of privacy, as if he might return and be upset with her. At night, Claire wrapped herself up in his hooded sweatshirt so she could smell him and imagine his arms around her, making her feel safe.

The other day she had discovered Charlie's ring in Aaron's crib. At first she thought it had just fallen off but after hearing Hurley's words she was convinced it had been no accident.

He knew, thought Claire. He never took this off. If he left it, it was because he knew, just as Hurley had said. He must have wanted us to have this.

She didn't understand how it could be possible that she would never see Charlie again. Things she once took for granted now burned a hole in her chest, and she felt like the most heartless woman on earth.

Curled up in the sweatshirt while the camp was asleep, wearing the ring on her thumb, Claire made a silent plea.

I'm sorry for the times I thought you clung too tightly. I'm sorry for the times I accused you of not being there for me. I'm sorry I ever said I needed space. I didn't mean it. I don't need space. I would give it all back if I could just have another chance. You were the best thing to happen on this island and I never appreciated it. If I could have you back Charlie, I'd never take you for granted again. I would cherish every moment.

She buried her head into the soft fleece sleeves, inhaled deeply and sobbed, "I'll do anything for another chance, Charlie. Please come back."

Stage Four: Depression

Over the next few days, most people had given her a wide berth and although she understood their discomfort, Claire's own sense of isolation only increased. She was reminded of the time she had told Charlie that people were avoiding the scary pregnant girl and Charlie looked her right in the eye and said, "You don't scare me." For the first time since hearing the awful news, Claire smiled to herself at a memory. Her anger was subsiding but was replaced by a profound sadness -- a deep, dark pit she didn't know if she could ever climb out of. Each day felt like an eternity.

While she mused, Desmond appeared at Claire's tent. He waited politely for a moment. He seemed instinctively aware that Claire was lost in something very personal. Over the past week, Claire had been touched by this man's sensitivity.

Charlie was lucky to have such a friend, she thought.

"There was one more thing," Desmond said to her, reaching into his pocket and removing a deteriorated scrap of white paper. "Charlie wanted me to give you this."

Claire took the paper eagerly and unfolded it, but it fell apart in her hands along every crease. She turned the pieces over. Black ink had been reduced to an unreadable gray blur.

"What was it?" she asked with a trembling voice.

"They're Charlie's memories," Desmond replied with a smile. "He said they were the five best moments of his life. I'm sorry it's not readable, but I thought you'd want it anyway."

After Desmond left, Claire looked at the bits of thin paper again, begging silently for them to reveal their secrets, but the ocean water had made off with Charlie's memories just as it had taken Charlie.

Examining one corner where the paper was torn away she could just barely make out three words.

…I met you.

She smiled again and thought back to the first time they met. It was the first night of the crash, and he had offered her his blanket. After sitting down, he cracked the first of many jokes, and Claire laughed at the memory of Charlie's quirky sense of humour.

He always made me laugh.

By sharing the same memory, Claire felt close to Charlie again.

Stage Five: Acceptance

Two days later, Claire still could not get Charlie off of her mind, but more and more all of her memories were happy ones. She found herself smiling as she fed Aaron or washed her clothes. In a way, Charlie was still there for her, supporting her with their precious moments together, setting an example of courage.

That night, she decided to get it all out. It had seemed as though Charlie had prepared himself for what he was about to do by making a list of his five best memories. Although she would never know what they were, Claire believed that wasn't important. They were Charlie's memories anyway; but looking back on his life no doubt gave him strength and helped him to be less scared of the uncertain future he was about to face.

Claire picked up her diary, opened it to the last blank page and began to write:

My Five Best Memories of You

For Charlie, from Claire

5. The empty peanut butter jar that was filled to the brim with your sweetness.

4. The way you stayed up with me nights and swore you wouldn't leave me.

3. Your smile when you returned to the camp with Aaron safe in your arms.

2. The vaccine you gave to me even when I was angry at you.

1. The last time we kissed.