Chapter 10: Claire's False Alarm
POV: Claire
Claire Littleton's stomach cramps hit her like lightning bolts, doubling her over with pain that felt like her body was trying to tear itself apart from the inside. She pressed both hands against her belly, feeling the tight knots of muscle that shouldn't be contracting for months yet.
Too early. Way too early. She was barely into her second trimester—the baby wasn't supposed to be coming now.
Terror flooded through her as she realized what this might mean. Miscarriage. Premature labor. Any number of complications that would be dangerous enough in a proper hospital, let alone on a mysterious island with limited medical supplies.
She was alone, pregnant, thousands of miles from civilization. If something went wrong with her baby, there was nothing anyone could do to save either of them.
"Charlie!" Claire called out, her voice cracking with panic. "Mac! Someone help me!"
They appeared within seconds—Charlie with obvious concern etched across his features, Mac moving with the calm efficiency she'd noticed whenever medical emergencies arose. Seeing their immediate response somehow made the crisis more real, more frightening.
"What's wrong?" Mac asked, kneeling beside her makeshift bed with hands already moving toward her abdomen.
"Contractions," Claire gasped between waves of pain. "They started about twenty minutes ago. Getting stronger."
She might lose her baby. The thought crashed through her consciousness like a wrecking ball, destroying every careful plan she'd made for life as a single mother. This baby was supposed to be her fresh start, her chance to build something good from the wreckage of a relationship that had imploded spectacularly.
Mac's hands hovered over her belly, and she felt familiar warmth beginning to emanate from his palms. The golden glow she'd heard others whispering about became visible in the dim light of her shelter, and almost immediately the crushing pain began to ease.
Not gone—still there, still frightening—but manageable. Bearable.
"Braxton Hicks," Mac said with confidence that cut through her panic like a lifeline. "Practice contractions. They're painful, but not dangerous. Your body's just getting ready for when it's actually time."
Jack arrived moments later, breathing heavily from his run across camp. He knelt beside Mac and began his own examination, checking Claire's pulse and asking medical questions with professional thoroughness.
"False labor," Jack confirmed after several minutes. "Common in second trimester, especially under stress. Everything looks normal."
Claire watched Mac throughout Jack's examination, really studying him for the first time since the crash. He was younger than Jack, maybe late twenties, with an easy smile that he used to deflect attention from himself. But his hands had saved her from panic, had known exactly how to ease her terror without making her feel foolish for being afraid.
"Thank you," Claire whispered as the last of the contractions faded.
Mac's smile was genuine and warm, carrying none of the clinical detachment she'd grown accustomed to from medical professionals.
"You and the baby are going to be fine, Claire," he said. "I promise."
Something in his voice made her believe him completely, despite having no rational reason for such faith.
POV: Mac
Mac remained with Claire after Jack left to attend to other medical duties, his hands automatically reaching for bamboo scraps and beginning to weave them into something useful. The construction work helped settle his nerves while giving Claire something comforting to watch.
"Where'd you learn that?" Claire asked, fascination replacing the last traces of fear in her voice.
Mac shrugged, keeping his attention on the emerging cradle frame. "Hobby. My... aunt had five kids. Lots of practice with baby furniture."
Another lie, another half-truth to add to his growing collection. The knowledge came from his inherited Master Builder abilities, not from any family experience he'd never had. But the alternative—explaining transmigration and borrowed memories—would destroy the fragile trust he was building.
Claire was quiet for a moment, watching his hands work with precision that turned random debris into elegant functionality.
"I'm scared," she said finally. "Of being a mother out here. Of what happens when the baby actually comes."
Mac's hands stilled against the bamboo frame. Fragmented memories stirred in his consciousness—images of Claire screaming in jungle darkness, of danger approaching in forms she wouldn't recognize until too late. His inherited knowledge whispered warnings about threats that were already moving against her, but the specifics remained frustratingly vague.
"You're stronger than you think," Mac said, meaning every word. "And you're not alone. We're all going to look out for you and the baby."
The intensity in his voice seemed to surprise Claire, but it relaxed her in ways that medical reassurance hadn't managed. Mac would die before letting anything happen to her or her child. That certainty lived in his bones like gravity.
"You're a good person, Mac," Claire said softly. "Weird, but good."
Mac forced a laugh. "Weird how?"
"You see things. Know things. Like you can tell what people need before they ask for it."
The observation hit closer to truth than Mac was comfortable with. His enhanced senses and fragmentary memories did give him insights that appeared almost psychic to outside observers. But explaining that would require revealing everything he couldn't discuss.
"Just observant, I guess," Mac said weakly.
They sat in comfortable silence as afternoon shadows lengthened around the camp. Mac finished the cradle frame and began work on a small mobile made from colored fabric scraps, his hands moving with automatic precision while his mind wrestled with growing certainties about dangers approaching.
That evening, as Charlie arrived to take over Claire-watching duties, Mac pulled her aside for a private conversation that felt both necessary and potentially destructive.
"I need you to promise me something," Mac said, struggling to find words that would convey urgency without revealing impossible knowledge. "If anyone new shows up in camp—anyone you haven't seen before—you tell me immediately. Don't go anywhere alone with them. Okay?"
Claire's expression shifted to confusion mixed with concern. "What? Why?"
How could he explain fragmentary memories of kidnapping and terror without sounding insane? How could he warn her about Ethan Rom without revealing that he somehow knew the man's name and intentions before they'd ever met?
"Just... instinct," Mac said desperately. "Something feels wrong about the jungle, about people watching us. I can't explain it better than that. But please, Claire. Promise me."
His desperation seemed to convince her where logical explanations would have failed. Claire nodded slowly.
"Okay. I promise. But Mac, you're kind of freaking me out."
Mac forced a laugh that sounded hollow even to his own ears. "Sorry. Island paranoia. This place just... gets to you sometimes. But seriously—promise?"
"I promise," Claire said firmly.
Charlie approached then, his protective instincts activated by the intensity of their conversation, and Mac backed away to let them have privacy. He'd planted the seed. When Ethan appeared—and Mac's inherited knowledge insisted he would appear—maybe Claire would remember this warning. Maybe Mac could change this one thing, save one person from the horrors his fragmentary memories suggested were coming.
"But what if warning her changes everything?" Mac wondered as he watched Claire laugh at something Charlie said, her fear finally eased. "What if my intervention creates worse outcomes than the original timeline? What if trying to save one person destroys opportunities to save others?"
The ethical calculus of changing established events was staggering in its complexity. Mac possessed knowledge of futures that might come to pass, but using that knowledge carried risks he couldn't fully calculate. Every warning he gave, every disaster he prevented, every small change he made could ripple outward in ways that made everything worse.
But watching Claire's genuine smile, seeing her protective hand resting on the curve of her belly, Mac knew he couldn't remain passive in the face of approaching threats. She trusted him now. She would listen to his warnings, take precautions that might save her life.
Even if those precautions changed everything.
Mac returned to Fort Probably-Won't-Collapse as darkness fell over the camp, his head pounding with almost-memories of Claire screaming in jungle darkness. Somewhere out there, Ethan Rom was approaching with plans that would tear their fragile community apart.
Mac just couldn't remember when, or how, or what he could do to stop it without destroying everything else in the process.
The burden of impossible knowledge was heavier than he'd expected, and growing more crushing every day.
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