Rating: PG

Spoilers: through "Born to Run"

Warnings: Angst

Beta: shakespearespot

N.B.: I guess you could call this one pre-slash, rather than true slash, since it’s got that friendshippy with a hint of deeper affection flavour to it. ~RB

         Charlie was tired. Bone tired. The cheerful optimism that he’d been exhibiting all day was gone and with it went his energy. It was as though the cheer had been a fire which had burned away his last reserves.
        He usually went back to the caves to sleep, but tonight he’d simply left his guitar with Claire and wandered down to the beach, staring listlessly out at the waves. The only reason he’d been going back was to be close to Jack, to spend the less busy part of the day with the other man. There was little point in that now. Since Boone’s death, Charlie had barely seen Jack and when he did, the other man was either positively crazed with grief and sleep deprivation or hard and distant.
        That had been a blow, as had Jack’s behaviour while he was trying to save Boone after Locke had brought him back, bloodied and broken. Charlie had known Jack was a dedicated, focussed doctor, but somehow he’d thought that the unreasonably determined side of the man was reserved for him alone.
        Kate had told him about Jack’s intensity and refusal to give up when he’d been first abducted and then hanged. It had provided an ember of warmth in his gut to stave off the chill of his guilt over failing Claire. It had made him think that he, himself actually mattered to Jack.
        Their interactions after the event seemed to back up the supposition. Jack had been kind, attentive, even affectionate. Charlie had basked in the glow of attention; even after Claire’s return and his shooting of Ethan, Jack had remained a constant presence in his life.

        He’d thought he was special.

        He was wrong.

        Moonlight sparkled on the waves that lapped the shore, and Charlie wandered closer. The water splashed playfully at the toes of his shoes, inviting him into its warm embrace. Charlie accepted, wading out until it came up to his chest.
        He stood in the sea, head bowed as tears tracked down his face, dripping off to join their salty brethren. The rising tide broke against his chest, splashes of saltwater dashing against his cheeks like the hand of a small child trying to pat the tears away.

         Whatever Jack thought of him, felt for him, it wasn’t what he’d believed it to be. A new patient, a new hopeless cause had been all that was needed to take Jack away from him when he’d thought that nothing in this life would break their bond.
         All day, he’d managed to convince himself that it didn’t matter. Michael’s raft would be a success, bringing rescue for them all. He’d be famous again, and his career would take off like a bird in flight – he was already writing songs for his first solo album. That would enable him to take care of Claire and the baby for as long as it took for his friend to decide what she wanted to do. His family would be overjoyed to find him alive, and it would be like every fantasy he’d ever had about finding success and adoration...
         Except he would miss Jack horribly.
         All of his fantasies since Jack had befriended him had involved the doctor in some fashion. Whether as friend, lover, or personal physician, he’d been certain Jack would be part of his future. Now, Jack was barely part of his present. It didn’t seem likely that their acquaintance would survive leaving the island.

         The waves had been growing stronger as Charlie stood crying into the brine, and when the next one broke over him, it pushed him off his feet. First pushed towards the shore and then pulled out towards the open sea, he soon lost all sense of direction and, even had he been able to swim, he could not have found his way back to the moonlit surface. The water was warm, however, and comforting in the way it cradled him, so Charlie simply relaxed and let it surround him.
         A steady burning started in his lungs as the water around him became agitated. He wondered vaguely what it was fighting just before strong arms encircled him and pulled his back flush with a muscular chest. When his head broke the surface, he instinctively took in a gasping breath of air. He passively allowed himself to be towed back to shore. His rescuer collapsed into the sand, and Charlie’s momentum tumbled him down into it as well.
         Waves tugged at his feet as if they were urging him back to play just a little longer. He had neither the energy to return to them nor to move out of range of their insistent tugging and chose instead to simply ignore them. What he couldn’t ignore was the very wet, very angry man now looming over him.

         “What the hell did you think you were doing out there, Charlie?”

         It was Jack, of course. Who else, after all, would be so over-zealous as to save a useless bit of flotsam?

         “You’re lucky I was walking along the beach and saw you go under. What were you doing out that far, at night no less; you can’t even swim.”
         “Why did you come down to the beach?” Charlie was surprised by the sound of his own voice. He’d no notion of the question until it was spoken.
        Jack grabbed his arm, large hand wrapping around bicep, and shook him. “Did you hear a word I said? What the hell were you thinking?”
        Charlie hadn’t realised he was still crying, but tears joined the sea water running off his face, and he took a deep, sniffling breath before replying. “I’m sorry. I was just... I needed ... and the waves were so beautiful and friendly.”
         “What did you need, Charlie?”
         “Comfort.”
        Jack’s grip loosened, and he stroked his fingers over the spots on Charlie’s arm they’d been digging into moments before. “If you needed comfort, why didn’t you come to me?”
        Charlie’s head lolled over so that he was looking up into Jack’s eyes for the first time since he’d pulled him out of the water. “Why would I go to you?”

        Jack pulled back as though he’d been burnt.

         “You don’t want me anymore, Jack. You’ve got Boone now.”
        Concern creased Jack’s brow, and he said, “Charlie, Boone’s dead.”
         “I know that! Don’t you think I know that? You tried so hard to save him, so hard, but you couldn’t. You’re still holding on to him, though, and there’s no room for me in that. I’m not special anymore, or I never was special, and I’m sad, Jack. So sad. And so very tired.
         “Don’t cry, Jack.” Charlie reached up with one shaking hand to dab at the tears now rolling down Jack’s own cheeks. “It’s not your fault you couldn’t save him.”
        Jack gave a broken sob and, cupping the side of Charlie’s face, said, “I’m not crying for Boone, Charlie.”
         “Oh.”

        Jack pulled his hand back to rub at his eyes, reasserting a little control over himself and drying his tears. He helped Charlie sit up, brushing sand and tears from his face as well. “Can you stand and walk a little ways? I think we both need to get some sleep and I’d rather it were someplace dry.”
         “Not on my own.”
         “I’ll help you.”
        Charlie nodded his acceptance and let Jack haul him to his feet and steer him away from the water. He had no idea where they were going until he saw a fire with a figure sitting beyond it, and Jack called out to the person there.
         “Kate? Do you mind if we crash by your fire for tonight?”
        She leapt up and, rushing over to help Jack lower Charlie to the ground, asked, “What happened? You’re both soaking wet. Where’re your shoes and shirt, Jack?”
        Jack collapsed next to Charlie and waved a hand back the way they’d come. “Down on the beach somewhere. Charlie had a little run-in with a wave.”
         “Oh my god, Charlie, are you okay?”
         “Tired,” was all he could manage.
         “I think we’re both pretty exhausted, Kate,” input Jack.
         “Yeah, of course. Why don’t you get his wet clothes off of him and lay them out next to the fire to dry, and your jeans, too. I’ll bring you guys a couple of blankets.”
        She darted off to her shelter, which lay a little ways away, and returned with one large blanket a few moments later. “I could only find the one extra.”
         “That’s fine, Kate,” said Jack as he helped Charlie peel off the last of his wet clothing, leaving him in nothing but his soggy drawers. “We’ll share, thanks.” Jack stepped out of his jeans, laying them next to Charlie’s clothes, and took the blanket from Kate. He urged Charlie to lie down, which he did without protest, and spooning up behind him, spread to blanket over them both.

        The last things Charlie heard before falling asleep were Kate saying goodnight and Jack’s steady breathing behind him.

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