spikessweetgirl (spikessweetgirl) wrote in fieldsofgold, @ 2009-01-06 16:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | no vacancy in paradise charlie/desmond |
No Vacancy In Paradise Charlie/Desmond
Title: No Vacancy In Paradise
Author::
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the characters. They belong to the writers of Lost and ABC. No Copyright infridgement is meant.
Desmond tipped the bottle back, letting the cheap liquid wash down his throat as he tried once again to drown himself into another state of oblivion. He hadn’t seen the survivors of 815 since the day they had been rescued and returned to the lives that they had left behind. That day, everything had happened so fast. The helicopters landing, the excitement, his insistence that Claire and Aaron go first in honor of the sacrifice that had been made to make the helicopters come in the first place…the crushing guilt that bore down when Claire’s hate-filled blue eyes glared at him, blaming him because she and her little one were leaving the island alone instead of with the young man that had loved them enough to give his life…
Claire hadn’t spoken a word to him since the day he had brought Charlie’s body back from the Looking Glass. Since then she didn’t have a kind look or word for him. Neither did anyone else…except for Hurley. Hurley of course had been upset….but he had eventually forgiven Desmond his part in his friend’s death and had made it a point to take care of Claire in Charlie’s absence. But Claire would never forgive or forget. This suited Desmond just fine, because he wouldn’t forgive or forget either. He asked himself a thousand times why he had thought it necessary to tell Charlie of his coming death. But there was no answer. Not a satisfying one anyway.
Now, one year later, after receiving a notice of some reunion for the survivors, Desmond sat and worked on drinking himself into another stupor. Stupors were good. In a stupor, you didn’t have to think. You didn’t have to feel. There was no guilt…no shame. It was just living in the moment, for the moment, but for some reason the familiar fuzzy feeling refused to wash over him. He was still alert. He still felt the pain, and he didn’t know what to do about it.
He looked at the bottle, reading the label. It was the cheapest brand he could get…the only brand he could afford. Couldn’t even come by the good stuff. The only person, who thought him worth the good stuff, had been Charlie….and look at what had happened to him. He had entrusted his life to Desmond and Desmond had ended up destroying it. Just like he destroyed everything else he touched.
He tipped the bottle back again, expecting the slow burn of the whiskey, just to end up with air. Desmond grimaced and tossed the bottle away, cursing under his breath. Figured. He needed the drink more now than ever, on this anniversary of Charlie’s noble sacrifice…or rather Charlie’s careless murder, and there was no more to be had. Then again, he hadn’t checked the cupboard, where he usually stored his extra stash. If he could just get up and walk into the hall that led to his barely used kitchen, maybe Desmond could score a nice full bottle of cheap whiskey there.
He looked towards the dark hallway, trying to will his arms and legs to get in the position to support his weight, but they refused to cooperate. They just lay there, as if Desmond hadn’t thought about getting up at all. He cursed himself for his laziness. How was he ever going to get more whiskey if he couldn’t be arsed to get up and get it? It didn’t make any sense. He looked up at the ceiling, wondering why he wasn’t drunk yet. Where was that comfortable stupor that usually takes him over by now? Why was his resistance so good today of all days? The day where all he could think about was Charlie and how he had failed him.
“Why?” Desmond asked the empty room, banging his head against the wall, his voice full of grief and self hate. No matter how much time has passed, he couldn’t stoop grieving the man that had saved his worthless life…who had given his life for his friends. The Self hate was because of his own weakness for giving in and telling Charlie about the visions. For not killing Mikhail that night they had found Naomi and Charlie had pleaded with him not to let the eye patch man go. For not trying harder to save Charlie. For so many other things that he couldn’t really list off at the moment…or rather didn’t want to. Listing off things was for when he was in a stupor. Now that the stupor refused to come, he refused to list. It was only fair.
“Why Charlie?” Desmond wiped at his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. “Why did you close that door? Why didn’t you try to escape? Why did I let you go on that suicide mission in the first place? Why?”
“You know why Brotha. It had to end sooner or later. I just ended it on my own terms,” the achingly familiar voice was so fucking clear. It was as if Charlie was in the room with him at that moment. But Desmond knew that was impossible. There was no way Charlie could be in the same room, talking to him about his reasons for dying, because Charlie was dead. He’ll never speak to anyone again…at least not in this world.
“The cheap brand, eh? Good thing I’ve come. Have the good stuff right here. Only brand suitable enough to celebrate the anniversary of my death. Isn’t that right brotha? Hey, you can stop being rude now and look at me when I’m talking to you.”
“I will do no such thing,” Desmond spoke aloud, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. “I’ll look and you won’t be there.”
“Ah, poor Desi. Think he’s losing his bloody mind. I say that happened a long time go, looking at your living conditions. Really, mate. You can use a lot more furniture and a lot more light. Let’s open those curtains, yeah?”
Desmond squinted as the curtains were somehow thrown back, letting the bright sunlight through. Confused, he squinted, bring his eyes level with the window to see a familiar silhouette, yet no features. His frown deepened. He hadn’t been expecting company. He didn’t have anyone that visited him anyway. Not Penny, who he had hid from once he was back in civilization. Not Hurley, who was back in the States, enjoying his millions, and certainly not Claire, who had yet to speak a word to him.
“Who are you and what do you bloody well want? I have no money if that’s what you’re here for and imitating a dead man is lunacy mate. “
A light, familiar chuckle sounded throughout the room, amused and a bit sad at the same time. “Desi. I have no need for money anymore and I’m beyond imitating a dead man. I am the dead man. As you can see.”
Desmond’s eyes widened in horror as the silhouette stepped forward to reveal the man he hadn’t seen in over a year. The very man that he had led to his death, looking more alive than the day he saw him last. “Ch-Charlie?”
This was impossible. Charlie was dead. He had watched him drown and witnessed his burial all those months ago. There was no way that the lad could be standing in his apartment, holding out an expensive bottle of whiskey, with a cheeky grin. No way at all.
“I know what you’re thinking, brotha. Bloody impossible. The bloke’s dead. And I am. Dead that is.”
Desmond stared, trying to make sense out of the situation. Here he was, supposed to be drunk out of his mind by now, talking to the man he had gotten killed a year ago. A man that looked to be as alive as he was…a man that was by all rights….dead. Impossible. He was going insane. There was no question about it. “Then what are you doing here, brotha? Shouldn’t you be up in heaven playing a harp? Or would it be a guitar?”
Charlie…or the person that looked like Charlie laughed and shook his head. “No, Des. I’m not up in heaven playing a harp or a guitar. I have something much more important to do at the moment. Come on Brotha. It’s time to get you up and on your feet and living the life you were meant to have. For gods sake, man. I didn’t give up my life just to see you drink yours away.”
Charlie’s smile was amused, yet sad. The hand he laid on Desmond’s shoulder was warm and solid. Real. No, this wasn’t some hallucination like Desmond had first thought. Charlie was real. He was there. Desmond didn’t know how he was there…but he was…
“I don’t understand,” Desmond stumbled, grabbing onto the musician he had grown to think of as his best friend at one point. “You’re dead, but you’re here…are you a ghost?”
Charlie laughed, his blue eyes sparkling in a way that Desmond had never seen them sparkle before. It was a real laugh. A laugh that was free from whatever earthly problems Charlie had before his death. “I suppose I am. Or you can call me an angel. It has no bearing on why I’m here.”
Desmond stared, his mind still refusing to process what he was seeing. Maybe he was more drunk than he thought he was? Maybe this was just a symptom of alcohol poisoning? He never bothered to look up the subject, but he was almost sure that vivid hallucinations were one of the symptoms. Maybe the whiskey was bad…or had been drugged? Something wasn’t right here. Charlie Pace should not be standing in his living room, waiting to share an expensive glass of whiskey with him!
“What do you want, Brotha? Surely there are other people you much rather be visiting. Say Claire…or Hurley…”
“They don’t need me Des. At least not as much as you do.”
Desmond snorted at the answer. He had been alone for a full year now and he had not needed anyone. He didn’t need anyone now, and certainly not the hallucination of the lad he had gotten killed on that bloody island. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone. Now go away and leave me in peace.”
Charlie just shook his head, his lips pressed together in determination. “Can’t do that. If I go away now, you’ll be dead within a year and my mission will be a bloody failure.”
“What?” Desmond blinked, not understanding any of this. Was his hallucination telling him that he was going to die?
The smirk on Charlie’s face said it all. “This time it’s me handing out death prophecies, mate. You’re gonna die Brotha. You’re going to die if you don’t change what you’ve been doing and clean up your life. Start living it.”
Desmond blinked again. “What?”
“You’re right. I was up in heaven, having a grand time. Just me and my trusty guitar, when I was called into the big guy’s office. Seemed like my sacrifice wasn’t being fully appreciated. Claire and Aaron, they’re great. Found out that Jack was her brother and they’re writing each other almost everyday and Aaron’s growing like a weed. Hurley has found love and is enjoying his millions. All my friends are off the island and living their lives…all of them except one. You. The big guy showed me a future that I just couldn’t accept. So he gave me a chance to come fix it. Well, not fix it…but to do some convincing. So what do you say, Desi? Help a mate out?’
“So you’re an angel?”
Charlie laughed. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? Former drug addicted rockstar who lived for sex, drugs and rock and roll. An actual angel.”
Desmond couldn’t help but chuckle. Charlie’s laugh was infectious. It was too bad that the lad never laughed like that on the island, at least not while he had known him. It was too bad that the lad wouldn’t laugh at all anymore, thanks to his inability to interpret the visions and save his life. All urges to laugh died as Desmond’s thoughts turned somber. “I really wished I could have saved you, Brotha. It’s not right that you’re dead…”
Charlie’s laughter died. His blue eyes dimmed with sad acceptance. “It was destiny, mate.” He opened up the whiskey and poured a helping to a shot glass, sliding it over to Desmond. “I was supposed to have died in that plane crash, Des. I was originally seated in the tail section. And if not in the plane crash, then it was going to be a drug overdose in LA.”
“Drug overdose?”
Charlie nodded. “There’s a lot you never knew about your old mate Charlie, Brotha. I was a Heroin addict when the plane crashed. Before the island, I was a rock star. Me and my brother Liam. Driveshaft, you may have heard of us.”
Desmond just looked confused and shrugged. He couldn’t really remember that band at the moment. It sounded familiar, but there was no real memory. Charlie just chuckled and shrugged.
“We didn’t last long. Anyway, drugs got in the way. Liam got hooked, I soon followed and I stayed an addict until I crashed on this island and finally managed to get clean. Only because I was forced to. If I had reached LA, I would have overdosed a few days later and died at the hospital. So you see, I was living on borrowed time anyway. The island just gave me the means to redeem myself and make my life mean something. To give it up for something meaningful, not just because I was wanting to get high.”
Desmond swallowed down his shot of whiskey, noting the rich flavor. So much more different than the cheap stuff. “I still should have saved you, Brotha. Or died trying.”
“Will you stop saying that? It wasn’t your bloody time. No vacancy in paradise, mate. They had one and they gave it to me. You’ll just have to wait your turn. This means, this bottle is your last, Des. After tonight, no more drinking. It’s time to start living your life instead of sitting here waiting to die.”
Desmond scowled, hating Charlie at that moment. How dare that British ghost come here and tell him that he wasn’t to drink anymore? He’ll drink. He’ll drink the whole town dry if he wanted to. Charlie couldn’t stop him.
“So I’ll die. Like anyone would bloody care.”
“They won’t if you don’t start caring yourself, Desi. What happened to that lass of yours? Penny? Was that her name? She seemed to still be in love with you. What happened?”
Desmond shrugged, going over again in his mind why he had yet again ran out on the woman he loved. She had been there waiting for him when the helicopters landed. She was on the dock, waiting for him to disembark with the rest of the survivors. His heart had leapt when he saw her. His love for her swelled up inside of him and he was just about to go to her…when he caught sight of Claire. Alone and despondent, clutching baby Aaron to her chest, looking lost and alone as she looked for her family. Guilt had once again taken him over. The poor girl wouldn’t have been alone if it weren’t for him. She would have had her Charlie to hold her hand and be her strength. Instead, the man she loved was dead and she seemed to be all alone in the world, watching her friends reunite with the people they had left behind. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t run off with his Penny when Claire had no one but the wee baby in her arms. So he had hidden from sight and made off when Penny gave up and headed for home. Then he had disappeared into the crowd to start his lonely life in the real world.
“I left her. Couldn’t be with her when your girl had no one,” Desmond drank another shot, wincing at the burn that poured down his throat. “I didn’t deserve Penny anyway. Not with my actions. I should have tried harder, Brotha. I should have killed that eye patch man when I had the chance, just like you said.”
Charlie sighed, pouring another shot for his friend. His blue eyes were dark with sympathy. “Des, mate. This has to stop. You have to stop blaming yourself for my death. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t like you had forced me to go on that mission. I wanted to go. I wanted to save Claire and Aaron. Plus, I closed the door when I saw that wanker with the grenade so you wouldn’t die too. I’m sure I could have thought of some way to survive, but like you said. I had to die for rescue to come, and that I did.”
“But…”
“No buts, mate. I have no regrets. You saved my life enough times that I made my peace with the world. I fessed up all wrong doings. I made peace with Locke, Claire, Aaron…I became a man that I could be proud of. When the time came…I was ready. I knew that if I was rescued, my life would just go back to the way it was before the crash. This way…I could die with a clean slate. I could die knowing that I was a good man in the end. That I had saved the people I loved and was deserving of that love. I was at peace, Brotha, and I have you to thank for that.”
Desmond again blinked, not able to believe what he was hearing. He had helped end Charlie’s young life. How could he be thankful to him for that? “You don’t blame me?”
Charlie laughed again. “Blame you? No, love. I don’t. I’m thankful. You gave me the best last weeks of my miserable life. You gave me redemption. I’m thankful for that, Des. I’m so thankful, that I’ve come back to help you get your life back on track. To make you stop wallowing in this useless self-pity. To get you to live your life again, with the woman you love. She’s still waiting for you Desmond. She never stopped. Pick up the phone Brotha and call her.”
“Are you mad?” Desmond glared at Charlie, wishing that he’d just go help someone else who needed it. “I can’t call Penny. She deserves something better. Something more than I can give her. She won’t want me…not after she finds out about the island and the hatch and visions…”
“I disagree, Brotha. Penny has loved you for years now. You have something with her….more than I ever had with Claire. Call her Des.”
“No,” Desmond downed another shot of whiskey, hoping that it’ll make him good and drunk this time. ‘I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t want any part of it. My life is a waste and living up to expectations here. So kindly piss off.”
“Expectations? Whose? Yours? Charles Widmore? Certainly not mine.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Desmond grabbed the bottle, tipping it back. The shot glass was not enough and Charlie wasn’t drinking anyway. Might as well drink from the bottle
“It does matter if it’s keeping you away from your girl, mate.”
“It doesn’t. Look, I’m not even worth this whiskey you brought me. I am not worthy of Penny!” Desmond waved the bottle around, almost quoting Charles Widmore.
“Bollocks and you know it. You are worth the girl and I’m not the only one who says so. Someone much higher than me thinks so and I think his opinion is much more worth mine, yours, and whoever the wanker was that put such an idea in your head,”
Desmond looked at Charlie and had to giggle. The Englishman was adorable with his face set in stubborn determination like that. “Sorry mate, but Penny is better off. Now go back to your cloud. See you in another life.”
“This isn’t over Des,” Charlie frowned, beginning to fade away into the brightness of the window. “I’m gonna save you, Brotha.”
Desmond snorted, remembering how he had once thought the same thing about Charlie. Look how well that turned out. Taking another gulp of the expensive, whiskey, Desmond felt the fuzzy lightheadedness of the drunken stupor come upon him.
“At bloody last,” He sighed, slipping down the wall he had been leaning on.
~*~
Desmond blinked against the sunlight as he woke up the next day. He was still in the position he had passed out in and everything about the night before was a bit fuzzy…well all except Charlie’s visit…but Desmond was counting that as a dream or hallucination from too much alcohol. He picked up the half empty bottle of whiskey and blinked. It was the good stuff. He must have had more money than he thought and had somehow made it to the cabinet to consume it.
Or maybe that wasn’t a hallucination after all, Brotha. Maybe the lad was really here.
Desmond shook his head, dismissing the thought. No, Charlie had been a dream or a hallucination. That’s all he could have been. Right?
The doorbell shook Desmond out of his thoughts. This was new. No one ever visited him. He even doubted that anyone knew where he lived. Yawning and taking a good stretch, Desmond forced himself onto his feet and to the door, wanting to curse whoever it was. He really wasn’t in the mood for company. He just wanted to keep his spot on the floor and work on getting drunk yet again, so he wouldn’t have to think about the past.
“Whoever you are, I don’t want…any…,” Desmond fell silent, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and fear. “P-Penny…”
“Hello Desmond,” The woman he had been pining away for four years now, smiled, her blue eyes warm and full of tears.
“What…how….”
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Desmond swallowed and moved over to the side, not knowing what else he could he do or say? What does a bloke say to the woman he had abandoned, not once, not twice, but three times? “How did you find me?”
Your friend stopped by.”
Desmond frowned, not getting what she was saying. His friend? He had no friends. At least none that were of this earth anyway. What friend?”
“The one I talked to over the com. He said that you needed me. That you were drinking your life away, feeling like you weren’t worthy of me. He said that was why you hid from me when the helicopters landed…why you didn’t come to me when you came home. He said that if I wanted you back in my life, I was going to have to come to you and make you believe it when I say that I love you and I refuse to give up on you. No matter what you or my father say.”
“The one you talked to over the com? Penny…that’s impossible….”
She frowned. “Why is that impossible, Desmond? I really don’t understand why…”
“Because the bloke you’re talking about is dead! He’s been dead over a year now. Drowned in the station where you talked to him. I tried to save him…but….,” Words left him as he remembered the night before. The stubborn determination on Charlie’s face when he said that he was going to save him. The fact that he woke up with that bottle of expensive whiskey in hand, knowing deep down that he hadn’t brought it himself. That visit from Charlie…”It wasn’t a dream. Bloody hell, he was here. Charlie was really here…”
“Dead? He didn’t look dead when he came knocking on my door in the wee hours of the morning…”
“Penny…”
“Desmond, I don’t understand. Why didn’t you come to me? Why are you here in this sparse apartment,” She picked up the half empty bottle of whiskey and looked at it with hurt and disgust. “Drinking yourself to death?”
Desmond took a deep breath, not knowing how he was going to say what he had to and make her understand and accept that the just couldn’t be together. That she deserved better. Not some washed up ex-monk who had gotten a young man with a girl and baby to take care of killed.
“Penny…things have changed…I’ve changed. Some things have happened that I’m not proud of…that has changed me beyond recognition.”
“You’ve changed? Desmond, you’re here alone, drinking yourself to death, running away from me…not that much has changed. I just don’t know why. I mean…what did I do to cause this?” Penny asked, clear hurt in her eyes as she voiced the thought that had been haunting her for years. “Am I so awful that you rather live in a drunken haze than with me?”
“What? Penny, no. That’s not it at all. You’re wonderful, the most beautiful, most amazing woman I’ve ever known. Which is why I’m doing this. You deserve so much better than me, love. You deserve a prince. Not a washed up button pusher turned failed prophet…”
“What?”
“Look, it just won’t work. So you might as well just walk out that door and forget about me. Find someone that can take care of you…someone that’s not a complete wanker,” Desmond grabbed the whiskey bottle from her, taking a swig from the bottle as he turned his back to her, not wanting to see the confusion and tears. Inwardly he cursed Charlie for sticking his big angelic nose into his private life. He had no idea what the ghostly lad thought he was doing, but it wasn’t anything good.
“Like hell I will!” Penny’s normally soft, calm voice was filled with anger and determination. She grabbed the bottle and threw it against the farthest wall, where it shattered, leaving a wet brown stain on the white paint. “You listen to me Desmond Hume! I have not spent the last four years of my life waiting for you, just for you to throw us away again on your preconceived notions!”
“Penny, listen. You don’t…”
“No! You’re going to listen to me for once! Who I spend my life with is not up to you or my father! It’s up to me and I say I want you and that’s bloody that! I will not hear anymore excuses from either of you! Now get your things together! We’re going home!”
Desmond stared at her in bemusement, not knowing what to think of this change in directions. He had expected tears from Penny. Tears and pleas for him to come back to her, just to have her give up and walk away in the end. He hadn’t expected this angry, determined Penny to come and collect him, refusing to take no for an answer. There was only one answer he could give her now. She wouldn’t accept anything else. “Ok.”
“I’ll be back in a half hour. I expect you to be ready to return to
Desmond watched her go, his own mind overwhelmed with what had just happened…what he had just let happened. Penny came to him. She came and demanded that he return to her life and he didn’t even put up a fight. How could he? He loved her. What he couldn’t get is why this was so easy for him to accept? Easier than when he had decided to walk away for her own good?
“Because you know it’s the right thing to do, Brotha,” The familiar voice broke the silence, startling Desmond out of his thoughts once again.
“You!” Desmond glared at his visitor. Charlie. Standing there in the morning light, as if he had all the right in the world to be there. Charlie who had refused to do what Desmond had drunkenly demanded and brought Penny back into his life, whether he had wanted her there or not. “I told you to piss off!”
“And so I did. Just not back to my cloud as you so elegantly put it,” Charlie shrugged, his smile unapologetic. “She needed you Des. Just as much as you needed her. So it took a little help from a dead friend to make it happen, but its happening. All you have to do is sit back and let the good things happen for once.”
“You don’t understand. Her father is not going to just sit back and let me be a part of his daughter’s life! Her father…”
“Is going to be dead within six months time, so I doubt he’ll be much of a problem,” Charlie shrugged, stepping away from the window.
“Bloody hell, what are you? Some kind of angel of death or something?” Desmond blinked, not knowing what to make of Charlie’s predictions and his nonchalance about the fact. He grew even more frustrated at Charlie’s resulting laughter.
“Not too long ago that I thought the same about you, Brotha. Except, my job is only to save one person and that’s you.”
“I don’t deserve to be save, man! Don’t you get it?! I failed to save you! A man that deserved to live! A man who had a girl and a wee baby to take care of! A young man who had his whole life ahead of him! Why should my life be saved and yours taken from you?! What makes me so bloody special?!” Desmond yelled, smashing one of the shot glasses against the wall right behind Charlie. “It’s not right!”
Charlie sighed, all amusement gone. “Desmond, mate. I told you. My life was over long before I landed on that island. It was my time to go. I knew that in the looking glass, and deep down so do you. There was no more time for me. The thing with Claire….it was never meant to happen. Which was probably why our relationship never developed the way growing relationships probably should. We weren’t you and Penny, mate. No matter how badly we both wanted to be. There was no trust on her part. Maybe at the end…but by then…it was too late. But you and Penny, you have a real chance. You two were meant to be together. She trusts you mate. She didn’t wait until the last minute to realize just how much she loved you. So give it a chance with her. Give it a chance on yourself. Like I said before, Brotha. There’s no vacancy’s in paradise. So live your life now, so when vacancies are open again, your place will be waiting for you and we can share some more of that expensive whiskey you like so well.”
“Charlie…I wish it could have been different for you…”
“Don’t mate. It’s ok. I’m at peace now. I haven’t been this happ in...a very long time. I’ve gotten to meet my idols like Hendrix, Lennon, Cobain, Elvis…”
“Elvis?”
“What? He was a great musician! Still is!”
Desmond just laughed. “Anything you say, Brotha.”
“And I get to check in on my friends everyone once in a while. Even give a helping hand…even though this is the first time I’ve been so proactive…”
Desmond sighed and nodded. “Very well, Brotha. You’re happy. You’re in a better place…”
“Believe it or not, Des. You did save me, mate. In the end…you gave me a choice of how to die…and that in itself was my saving grace. You may not have saved my life…but you saved my soul. For that, I will always be grateful. Now, with that being said, I’m afraid my time in this world is almost up, once again…,” Charlie smiled, a guitar suddenly in his hand.
“You’re leaving? Now?”
“Of course. I’ve completed my mission. Time to go home and rock with the angels, now. See you in another life Brotha,” Charlie grinned, strumming the guitar, playing a familiar tune that sent chills down Desmond’s spine. It was the very song that he would always associate with the young musician. No matter where he was in life. “Maybe, you’re gonna be the one that saves me…”
Desmond stood there and watched as Charlie began to fade away, an expression of peaceful bliss on his face, his smile free and glowing. He felt a tear of gratitude as Charlie faded away completely, the last verse of the song trailing behind.
“Cause after all, you’re my wonderwall…”
Desmond stood there, staring at the space Charlie had once stood, for the first time, feeling free of the guilt he had carried around with him ever since his return from the looking glass. For the first time, he felt free. Happy. He was able to go on with his life now, knowing that Charlie was in a better place and happy. Knowing that he was allowed his own happiness too. That he didn’t have to wallow in self pity any longer and if he even tried, a snarky little British angel will be back to kick his arse for him.
“I forgot my purse,” Penny returned, frowning when she saw her reclaimed fiancée staring at an empty space in the room. “Desmond? What are you doing?”
“Oh nothing,” Desmond replied, his own voice peaceful as a smile formed on his lip for the first time since the island. “Just saying good-bye to my wonderwall…”
Penny just looked at him a bit strange and smiled with acceptance. She was willing to accept this man back into her life, eccentricities and all. Just as long as he agreed to be hers and never run away from their love again. “Oh…ok. Are you ready to go or do you have some packing to do?”
Desmond looked around; contemplating all the things he had collected during the past year and sighed. He hadn’t really collected anything, but whiskey bottles and he was more than willing to leave those behind. “No love. No packing. Let’s just get out of here. Start our new lives together.”
“What about your friend? Charlie? Shouldn’t you tell him that you’re leaving?”
“Oh, he knows. We’ve already said our good-byes,” Desmond smiled, wrapping a secure arm around his girl, ready to start the life Charlie had demanded him to live. “Let’s get out of here.”
Walking away from the place that had been his personal hell, Desmond began to hum the one song that would probably keep him connected to Charlie until the day he died.
“Maybe, you’re gonna be the one that saves me. Cause after all, you’re my wonderwall…”
Finis