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Post by desmond on May 21, 2007 6:14:09 GMT
Desmond stared at the bottle. Blurry thoughts raced through his mind at a rate too great for his current mind to comprehend. Now, he'd finally transcended the boundary line between heavy buzz and bona fide drunken-ness. He was drunk, and his mind was working extra hard to attempt to figure out a solution to all of this. He didn't want to believe that there was no solution.
All he DID know was this. The alcohol wasn't really helping anything. They were both dangerously drunk already..And Desmond had been in a bar in Manchester when a man died of alcohol poisoning. It wasn't something he personally wanted to experience firsthand. So when Desmond saw her reaching for more...He did the only thing his drunk mind thought possible.
He turned the bottle upside-down and poured the rest of it into the sand outside of the tent. He wasn't going to risk either of them getting hurt as an indirect result of Charlie's death.
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Post by Claire on May 21, 2007 6:26:25 GMT
Claire thought that Desmond wasn't going to hand her the bottle. His hesitation made her want to just reach over and grab it. Her mind being slow enough due to the alcohol, it took her a moment to put the thought into action. But as she reached for the bottle, Desmond turned it upside down, spilling out all of its precious contents.
"Wh--? No, stop! What're you doing?" Claire reached forward, her fingers just brushing the bottle's smooth surface. She needed that stuff! She inched closer until she was able to close her fingers around the bottle, yanking it out of Desmond's grip. It was almost empty. Almost. "Now there's not enough..." she complained, looking inside the bottle and eying the little bit that was left. Just enough for another mouthful or two. Before Desmond could do anything else, Claire drowned down the last remaining drinks, not wanting to waste it like the Scotsman had done.
Holding the now-empty bottle, Claire looked at Desmond. "We could've had more," she muttered, letting the bottle drop down to the sand. "What'd you go an' do that for?" she asked him, noticing the rather pleasant numbness of her tongue. It felt kind of weird and made her words sound funny. She restrained the urge to giggle at the odd sensation, telling herself that she was supposed to be angry right now. She could giggle later.
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Post by desmond on May 22, 2007 3:50:19 GMT
"Wecould've had more, what'd you go an' do that for?"
Desmond watched as the bottle fell into the sand and tipped over, the last two drops falling into the sand. Wasted. He reached up and picked up the bottle, taking the cork he'd confiscated from Aaron earlier and poppig it back in. Maybe he could clean it out and use it for water, later. Desmond set it aside so it was no longer acting as a third party to their sorrows.
After waiting a moment to get his bearings, he looked up towards Claire again. "Well..I want to wake up tomorrow, for one. And I'd like you to, too." The rhyming-ness of that last part made him chuckle somewhat. But that didn't take away from the truth behind his slurred words. Despite his fondness for being intoxicated, he knew the consequences.
Desmond ran a hand through his long, brown hair. "And we've talked about a lot..I want to remember it tomorrow."
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Post by Claire on May 22, 2007 4:21:31 GMT
"What would be the point of waking up?" asked Claire, noticing that her head was feeling awfully light and woozy. Was that a good thing? Probably not, but it seemed like it. She was starting to feel like nothing really mattered anymore. Claire was getting to the point of drunkenness where there was just no emotion, no feeling. "If I woke up, I'd just feel bad and cry some more and I might forget to take care of the baby and then that would make me feel bad and...." She paused, loosing her train of thought. "Well," she said after a moment of thinking. "It just wouldn't be good."
It was obvious that she was drunk. Painfully obvious. She didn't notice it as much, but she sounded very drunk. Her eyes, already red and puffy from all the crying the past couple days, now had an uncharacteristic glaze over them. Claire was not going to be a happy person in the morning...
As of now, however, she felt fine. Well, Claire felt like crap, but she didn't feel like complaining. "You know," she said suddenly, looking up at Desmond. "One day, you'n'me'll have to do this again when I'm not feeling so overly emotional. I haven't done this getting drunk thing in a long time, and it isn't as fun as I remember it," she commented with a slight sigh.
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Post by desmond on May 23, 2007 5:05:36 GMT
Desmond again listened to a slurred-voiced Claire as she detailed how she felt, and how she believed she would be feeling in the morning. She doubted that waking up would be worth it, and in his current state, Desmond was almost inclined to believe in her words. But he shook his head, and touched his forehead with his palm. He didn't know if it was sweat, humidity, liquor that'd gotten away from his bottle..no idea.
Desmond dug his hand into the sand and grabbed a handful. He stood the empty bottle straight up and slowly let the sand drain into it as he tried to collect his thoughts. Most of the sand slinked harmlessly off of the outside of the bottle. "Charlie wouldn't have wanted us to act like this..I think.." he said, shrugging.
"And what about Aaron?"
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Post by Claire on May 23, 2007 5:20:34 GMT
Claire gave a bitter snort at Desmond's comment about Charlie. "Yeah, well, he's not exactly here to tell us what we should be acting like. Kinda hard to do that when you're.... y'know." Claire still wouldn't say the 'd' word. Death. Dead. Died. She couldn't do it. Saying it would mean she was accepting it. And it was easy to see that she wasn't exactly accepting it.
At the mention of Aaron, Claire turned and looked at the baby. He was lying on his back on her bed, still sucking away at his fist, his other hand busy playing with his feet. "What d'you mean, 'what about Aaron'?" she asked, looking back at the Scotsman next to her. "He's just a baby." Claire didn't want to think about the fact that Aaron would never remember who Charlie was. He would never really know the man that had acted as his father.
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Post by desmond on Jun 1, 2007 4:42:08 GMT
Desmond was quiet a bit as he attempted to form a coherent sentence. The bearded Scotsman was having just a wee bit of trouble forming his thoughts into words, and so he wasn't exactly quick with them. He wanted to try to explain to her that she needed to only mourn for a short while before working on raising Aaron, that she shouldn't be drinking like this.
But he knew if he did say it, it would all be hypocritical. Firstly, Desmond was just as drunk as his blonde motherly companion across from him. Secondly..He had been moments away from suicide when John Locke pounded on the door and renewed his hope, his faith that whatever he was doing had meaning. Desmond wanted to be that Savior for Claire, now. Knew that she could use one..
"Claire.." he began, focusing hard on his words. "I'm sorry I couldn't save him..I swear, I wanted to, I tried.." There were tears, and he tried not to acknowledge them. "But now let me help you..I'mhere for you. Aaron still needs you to raise him, protect him." he said.
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Post by Claire on Jun 1, 2007 5:00:01 GMT
Claire dug the toe of her shoe into the sand at her feet, watching as it dug a small hole. For a moment, she didn't think that Desmond was going to say anything. Aaron starting whining, and she looked over at the baby, almost having forgotten that he was even there. Maybe he should go in his crib.
She slowly got to her feet, stumbling slightly as she did so. It didn't occur to her that she probably shouldn't pick up the baby while she was this intoxicated. Claire reached down and grabbed Aaron. He seemed much heavier than she remembered... was he getting fat? She staggered unsteadily over to the cradle as she heard Desmond start talking.
After setting Aaron in the cradle (actually, she sort of held him an inch above the bottom of it and just kind of dropped him in; the baby didn't complain at all), she turned to face Desmond again. The man was crying. The big, strong, Scottish man was actually crying. It didn't make Claire feel any better.
Stumbling back over to the foot of her bed, she plopped back down on it and looked at the ground. She saw tears drip onto the sand, unaware that she was even crying again. "How am I supposed to protect him?" she asked quietly, her words slurred slightly from the alcohol. "How am I supposed to... to be a good mum at all when I couldn't even... how?" In the deepest parts of Claire's drunken mind, she felt that Charlie's death was partly her fault. If she hadn't let him go...
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Post by desmond on Jun 1, 2007 5:32:10 GMT
Desmond put his hands on her shoulders, fortunate that he didn't miss in his current state of stupor. She was receding back into the very bad state of mind, Exactly where Desmond didn't want her to go. His movement was slow, but unusually steady. His hands were just firm enough to get her attention.
"Claire..Ye need to pull yourself together. You are a good mother. Charlie did what he felt was right, and nothing was going to stop him. He did what he could to save YOU, Claire. You and Aaron meant everything to him. We can't just give up." Desmond said, and he was surprised that he got it all out.
His hands still on her shoulders, Desmond sighed. He wanted to wipe her tears away, but would've just ended up poking her in the eye.
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Post by Claire on Jun 1, 2007 5:41:04 GMT
Claire looked into Desmond's eyes as he spoke to her, her own eyes freely overflowing with tears; she made no move to stop them. She didn't understand how what Desmond was saying was right.
"How was doing that going to save me?" she asked him desperately. "It hasn't done anything good!" Nothing good had come from Charlie's death. Things just seemed to keep spiraling downwards into some sort of circle of hell. She didn't see any way in which things could get better. What was she supposed to do without Charlie?
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Post by desmond on Jun 1, 2007 5:46:59 GMT
Desmond threw his arms up into the air as he stood up, in anger . "I don't know!" he shouted, the tears still flowing down to get lost in his stubble. It was obvious that his moment of patience, of helpful sincere intimacy was over. He nearly hit his head on a piece of wood as he stood up, but was lucky to avoid such a fate. It was a pitiful sight, really..This man in such a wreck.
His patience had failed, his careful tone and his slurred words filled with attempts at advice. He left the tent angrily, mostly at himself. It wasn't that she was pissing him off..but this man was angry at the world because..she was right. There hadn't been salvation. Charlie was dead. That was it.
Desmond ran towards the water, and he fell twice into the sand because he wqas drunk, and because it was dark. But he got up both times and stumbled to the shoreline. The waves continued to crash down. Intentionally, this time, Desmond fell to his knees in the shallowest water. He bent over and let the incoming waves wash over his face, his body.
A fist pounded the wet sand as his conflicting, raging emotions were let loose in a sobbing roar. Had he transcended the line that seperated possible precognition and plain insanity?
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Post by Claire on Jun 1, 2007 6:04:41 GMT
Claire watched as Desmond left the tent in a fit of bitter and angry fury. She felt more tears stream down her face at his sudden outburst. His shouting had startled her and didn't help at all with her emotions
She sat on her bed and just sobbed for a moment, her face in the palms of her hands. Everything was just so wrong. She'd done nothing but cry for the past two days, her head was absolutely killing her, and she just wanted to give up on everything.
After she'd gotten the majority of her crying out of her system, she looked around, trying to figure out where Desmond had gone. Was he going to come back or was he just going to leave her here like this? No good-bye or anything? So rude...
Claire carefully got up to her feet and stumbled to the opening of her tent, looking out across the dark beach and trying to find Desmond. Her bleary eyes just made out a shape at the water's edge. "Desmond!" she yelled, starting to jog forward. She stopped after a few steps, though, when the entire world around her started to spin. Okay, running was out of the question. She'd just walk.
It took her a few moments, but she eventually made it next to the Scotsman. Dropping ungracefully down to her knees, splashing a bit in the shallow water, she looked at him. He was soaked through. "Desmond.... what are you doing out here?" she asked him. If she didn't know any better, she'd think that he was trying to drown himself or something. If he did that, who was she going to drink with?
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Post by desmond on Jun 1, 2007 6:31:04 GMT
Desmond Hume sat there for a while, letting the waves wash over his face. Each time the tide receded, and he could breath again, he spit out water and used a hand to slick his wet hair back out of his eyes. Why was he doing it, one may ask? That question had many answers. He was drunk, trying to force himself out of the haze that he'd descended into. He was upset, angry, disheartened, out of his right mind for the time being, trying to do ANYTHING to keep his mind clear.
A psychologist might tell an onlooker that he was trying to wash away his sins, and that was true in a sense. He was trying to sober up forcefully, to wash away the drunkenness. He wanted to calm down, and the ocean was one way to do that, at least in his mind. Whatever the case was, it only worked slightly.
He looked up at Claire, who had joined him for the time being. She asked him what he was doing out here. "Just getting a drink, you know? Since we ran out of booze and all." the man sat up, so the water only went to around his waist when it came in. "And yourself?"
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Post by Claire on Jun 1, 2007 6:39:51 GMT
Claire watched him, her slow mind trying to piece together exactly what she was seeing. They were both drunk, obviously. Now that time kept going on, Claire was starting to like it less and less. She seemed to be crying a lot. Whether that was because of the circumstances or because of the alcohol, she wasn't exactly sure.
When he said that he'd come out her to get a drink, she nodded slowly as if the reply made perfect sense. Desmond turned the question back at her, and she thought for a moment. Why was she out here? Why was she sitting on her knees in the ocean next to a crazy drunk man? "I don't know," she replied. "If you wouldn't've dumped out that bottle, then you wouldn't have t'be out here trying to drink up the ocean, now would you?" she asked him, her tongue feeling thick and silly in her mouth. Getting drunk wasn't quite the experience she remembered it to be. This sucked.
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Post by desmond on Jun 5, 2007 3:01:07 GMT
"Oh, don't you go blamin' it all on me," Desmond said, having forgotten the reason that the pair had gone and drunkified themselves, at least for now. To accentuate his dislike for her accusations, Desmond splashed her gently with a bit of cold seawater. It wasn't much, but enough to be noticed. He laughed slightly as he sat up on his hands and knees.
This wasn't very fun. Usually his drunkenness was accompanied by laughter and singing, but definitely not this time. This was the dangerous aspect of drinking..not to enhance emotions, but to dull certain other negative emotions. He hoped this didn't happen again.
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