Charlie’s heart was breaking. He could feel it, and every time a tiny shard fell away, he was quite sure he was going to die.

They always said you can’t die of a broken heart, but Charlie knew this was a lie. It had to be, because he couldn’t stay one more minute on this earth feeling the way he was feeling right that second.

He watched her blank eyes surveying him and his stomach contracted in a pain so great his eyes started to water.

Or maybe he was crying.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t know who it was. He didn’t care.

When he saw her appear, as if by miracle, he’d been so happy he felt he might burst.

There had been a part of him who knew she was okay, but there was always that small thing in the back of his mind telling him she was probably dead. And then there she was. Standing in front of him.

And she didn’t have any idea who he was.

She was screaming now and his eyes were stinging and he was trying to reassure her but all she could do was stare at him and yell. She was scared, he could tell, and while he was beyond happy to see her safe, a bitterness spread through him that caught him off guard.

She didn’t remember him.

And she meant so much to him and it was just so unfair. But she was okay, and she was safe, and Charlie had to concentrate on that.

She wasn’t the Claire he had first met pushing luggage around on a wheelchair through the sand. She was haunted and afraid and…different.

Yet there was still hope. Even if it was very little, a tiny shimmer, it was there buried deep inside him. Amnesia wasn’t irreversible and that was what kept him from falling to his knees and wishing none of this had ever happened.