Claire Bennet (
regenerated) wrote2011-11-06 10:52 am
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they'll have to go through you first
Why it mattered, Claire couldn't say, but the bulletin board had made her restless in the past few days, more so even than months past. Ideally, she would have considered it simple proof of the fact that, willing or otherwise, she was starting to assimilate into island life, caring so much for her fellow citizens that having the ideal five overseeing the group was of utmost importance to her. But Claire knew that wasn't it— no matter how many friends she had on the island, if crisis truly stuck, she could think of upwards of a dozen people who would be able to save them all. Superheroes, in her mind, more than a personal savior or someone with remarkable strength of will, but instead people with the very experience of facing crisis after crisis.
If the sky really did start to fall, there were people to keep it standing.
Yet this time, it was Peter who stole the majority of Claire's worries and attention, a part of her wishing that the island would at least give a nod to all of the accomplishments he'd managed, rather than taking too long to forgive a speech given heated, in the moment, too soon after Mary Jane's departure. Which one of them hadn't screamed, cried, torn themselves apart over a departure?
But those in the spotlight always had more consequences to suffer from it.
She'd managed to calm herself that morning by another round of rock diving, new bruises joining a few of the old, wherever water had made more impact than ideal, or wherever she tripped on any of the hikes she'd been pushing herself on as of late. Hair still damp, she paused on her usual way back to the Compound, before deciding to stay out longer on the beach. Laying out a large towel, she exhaled softly as she sat down, quickly burying her feet into the sand. There was so much happening, she thought to herself. Yet, she seemed incapable of getting her hands in it all. An unusual turn of events.
If the sky really did start to fall, there were people to keep it standing.
Yet this time, it was Peter who stole the majority of Claire's worries and attention, a part of her wishing that the island would at least give a nod to all of the accomplishments he'd managed, rather than taking too long to forgive a speech given heated, in the moment, too soon after Mary Jane's departure. Which one of them hadn't screamed, cried, torn themselves apart over a departure?
But those in the spotlight always had more consequences to suffer from it.
She'd managed to calm herself that morning by another round of rock diving, new bruises joining a few of the old, wherever water had made more impact than ideal, or wherever she tripped on any of the hikes she'd been pushing herself on as of late. Hair still damp, she paused on her usual way back to the Compound, before deciding to stay out longer on the beach. Laying out a large towel, she exhaled softly as she sat down, quickly burying her feet into the sand. There was so much happening, she thought to herself. Yet, she seemed incapable of getting her hands in it all. An unusual turn of events.
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There's a moment after Chris sees her where he considers maybe just turning round again. They haven't talked in what seems like ages, and maybe they'd just be better off if it stayed that way. Maybe she'd be better off, at least. So even as he walks over, he's not sure why he's doing it, except maybe because he's never been one to just give up on the people he loves.
And Claire still counts.
"Is this seat taken?" he asks Claire, gesturing toward the sand instead of just taking a seat next to her.
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As though to prove her point, she's shaken out of her reverie from a familiar voice to the side; glancing up, she can't help the slight look of surprise that passes over her face. She's assumed that they were avoiding each other, told Maxxie to do his best in watching out for Chris, and, well.
In hindsight, it seems silly to have expected to go without seeing him again, given the small size of the population.
"Nope," she shakes her head, offering a small smile as she tilts her head towards the spot next to her. "It's kind of a free-for-all, you know. Free island and all that."
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"So what, just gettin' some sun?" he asks, though he knows it's bollocks conversation. It's the kind of stuff people say to each other when they don't know what to say otherwise. It's bullshit that this is how he talks to her now.
"Figured you would have gotten loads of that already."
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She's not sure anything's worked to patch it up just yet.
"Actually, I kind of went rock diving earlier," Claire replies, leaning to the side and squeezing more water out of her hair for emphasis. "Been trying some surfing, too. And scuba diving. Seems like there are a lot of people who've been on the island longer, and they really know... how to make the most of it. I guess I figured that I can't really afford to waste time."
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Though, he's pretty sure all that was on purpose. They used to do stuff all the time, and now he never even knows what's going on with her. He didn't even know that she'd tried surfing. Mostly, he's just been hanging about with Maxxie or Cassie or Olive, and except for on bonfire night, none of them have talked all that much about what's going on between him and Claire.
It feels like he's fucked up, like what happened with Jal back home during that one party, only he can't figure out just what he's done wrong this time.
"Claire, what's going on? With us, I mean?"
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Apparently not.
"Chris, I..." she takes a wavering breath, brows furrowing deeply as she rubs her palm roughly against the back of her neck, eyes burning with the effort it takes not to cry. She can't, in this case. She has to be the strong one, because if she breaks down for something like this, asks comfort of him, it'd be ten times as unfair as anything she's asked of him up until now. "Chris, I don't really think that there's an us... like that. I don't think we have a chance. We're just. Too different to be anything other than friends."
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But it's never as easy as all that, at least not for Chris. He knows enough about how people can say one thing and mean another; he's done it, after all.
"See, I think that's bollocks," Chris says, after a long moment, and he pulls his hands out of the sand to look at them and clap them together and dust them off as he speaks, "Because that night... at the camp, Claire, we couldn't lie. You wanted me to pick, and I picked. So you can't tell me that was nothing."
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Exhaling, she shakes her head, eyes falling to a close as she raises a hand to her forehead and presses it there, trying to sort out the words.
"It happens, right? Break-ups aren't unusual. The way that I forced this to start is... totally unforgivable. I know that. I'm still beating myself up for it. But that doesn't really change the fact that I still don't think we're really right for each other. I thought that maybe— that maybe I was just being too uptight about things, but the truth is that we just don't have anything in common."
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How they'd started off, that'd never mattered to Chris. It was like Cassie'd told him once, you weren't supposed to keep secrets from people you cared about. They'd started with everything right out there in the open, hadn't they?
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But the problem runs deeper than his hobbies, and along the lines of how overlooked her emotions seem to be.
"Chris, stop," she says, quiet. "You keep on saying that my feelings don't make sense. That, like, I need a new start, or that I should try new things— Chris, I tried. You can blame me all you want, but it's just not working for me. It's not that what we said at the fire didn't mean anything, it's that we've learned more about each other since then, and it's just— I can't do this. And if you think it's just about parties then... yeah, this has to end."
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He's quiet for a long moment, then, frowning as he realizes that he's having to make himself look at her instead of down at the sand or out at the sea instead.
"This isn't how it's supposed to work, when you love someone."
That's the bottom line, here. This isn't how it's supposed to be. Even with Angie, it was better than this, and suddenly, he just wants to get up and leave.
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How much does he really know about her?
How much does he really love her, and not the notion of what she might provide in his life? That's the question that Claire knows she doesn't want answered anymore, to make this harder than it has to be.
"I guess not," she replies, even though she isn't sure if it's true. This feels a whole lot like the love she's known in her life. Trials. Tribulations. Hurt. Who hasn't brought that into her life?
This is exactly how love's supposed to work, she suspects.
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He can't think of much he wouldn't do, but there's nothing he can do. It's fucked and it's wrong and so many other things all at once.
Chris stands, brushing the sand off his shorts with his hands. Halfway up, he starts to lean over to kiss her on the cheek, then thinks better of it. She'll probably pull away anyway, if he tries it. Somehow, that's worse than not doing it at all.
"I'll see you around."
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So her shoulders slump, and her hands rest in her lap, before she hurriedly raises a hand to wipe at the corner of her eye before her tears spill over too noticeably.