Denied by the Ghost of You
Part One

Characters: Desmond, Penny, Charlie.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Howie Day owns the song "Ghost."

Summary: After coming to peace with everything that happened on the Island, Desmond realizes it's not over.

Lately I’ve been thinking
Lately I’ve been dreaming of you
I’m so resistant to this type of thinking
Oh, now it’s shining through

Alive from the first
Now I’m denied by the ghost of you

“I look like a gardener. This is a gardener’s hat. I should be in a garden.”

Desmond smiled slightly and shook his head in disagreement as Penny tried on a wide-brimmed, beachy white sunhat in a Joey Eric boutique. She was turning it around on her head in front of a full-length mirror to view it from different angles, as if it would help the appearance.

“It looks fine,” Desmond spoke up. “Besides, this is fashion. Most of the clothing that they sell in places like this don’t even look good on the six-foot one hundred pound runway models, right?” He grinned slightly. “Besides, it looks nice on you.”

“Liar,” she protested, taking off the hat and frowning down at it. “It’s very cheaply made, anyhow.” She set it back down on the hat rack without a second glance and left for the dresses, leaving Desmond to fend for himself in the accessories department.

He hesitantly turned the price tag on the sunhat over. Forty-three pounds. Before he had married Penny, he wouldn’t even consider buying a hat over five. In fact, he would never buy a hat, anyway.

However, upon his rescue and their marriage, he had swallowed his pride and moved in to her expensive home on Cheyne Walk. He worked regularly in Downtown London and Penny had her own money, so they managed to live very well-off.

Since his rescue several years ago with the Oceanic Six, he hadn’t kept in contact with Jack, Sayid, or any of them. He was living like he had before the Island, except no military prison, boat races, or job interviews with Penny’s father, who Desmond still swore had some form of psychosis. Everything was just normal for once, and he wanted to enjoy it.

He glared slightly at the ‘cheaply made’ sunhat that wouldn’t even be useful in England’s weather and decided it was time to catch up with Penny who, to Desmond’s horror, also wanted to stop by a Chanel boutique before they headed home.

“Charlie! Stop it!”

Desmond whirled around, nearly impaling another customer who was in his path on the nearby hat rack. A well-dressed mother had her hands on her hips and was glaring at her son who appeared to be eight or nine. The little boy had a fashion scarf that was priced at an amount Desmond didn’t even want to imagine wrapped around his hands, creating wrinkles and creases. He glanced timidly at his mother and put it back down.

“Do you want to get us kicked out?” the woman asked, grabbing her son by the wrist and leading him away as she glanced around to make sure no one was staring at them.

Desmond found he was holding his breath. He hadn’t reacted to that name, or really even heard it, for a few years now. Charlie Pace wasn’t someone he thought about everyday. Not anymore. He had slipped away into the back of his mind. Every now and then his memory would be awakened by a moment like this. But it hadn’t happened in so long.

Two gentle hands rested on his shoulders from behind and he jumped slightly, turning around to see a startled Penny.

“You ok?” she asked, concerned. “You seem tense.”

“No. No, I’m fine,” he said, forcing a small smile. “We’re going to that Chanel place now, right?”

“Chanel boutique.”

“Oh. Please forgive me.”

Penny laughed and grabbed his hand. “Forgiven. Lets go.”

When they returned home, Penny was busy hanging up her new summer wardrobe in her closet while Desmond made dinner. After attempting a seafood pasta that Penny had requested - and failing - he threw an organic pizza in the oven and headed for their bedroom.

“Pen? I tried the pasta but it looked deadly, so we’re having-”

As he turned the corner from the kitchen into the living room, he saw a figure standing in the hallway with blonde hair, a slight build, and a leather jacket. The man looked up at Desmond, and he immediately recognized the blue eyes.

Desmond squeezed his own eyes shut in shock and grabbed onto a bookcase to keep himself balanced. When he opened his eyes again, the man was gone and Penny was walking towards him.

“Des! What’s wrong?” she asked, walking up and touching his arm.

Desmond gazed over Penny’s head to look at the area Charlie had previously been standing. He looked back down at her and sighed. “N-nothing. I just got a little lightheaded.”

“Are you sick?”

“No. I just…I haven’t had much to eat today.”

Penny nodded. “Well, have something to snack on before the pasta is ready, then.”

“We’re not having pasta.”

“Why?”

“Like I just said - upon consumption, it could’ve been fatal.” He found that his voice was still quivering, even as he tried to joke.

Penny smiled softly at him. “You’re pale. Go lie down.”

Desmond nodded and headed to their bedroom, nearly collapsing on their double bed. He heard the name ‘Charlie’ once and he was starting to hallucinate his old friend. Not good. Not healthy, either. Not…acceptable. This was his life and he was determined to move away from the ghosts in his past. He had made it through the last two years, happily married and very much in love. He wasn’t going to lose his mind now. Again.

He scanned the room nervously before allowing himself to rest his eyes. Sleep was all he needed.

He woke up the next morning with Penny’s blonde head resting sleepily next to his, her warm breath coasting across his shoulder. After missing dinner, he found himself starving. As he finished a quick bowl of cereal, Penny woke up and walked into the kitchen with her blue terrycloth robe on.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Much better,” he answered, depositing the cereal bowl into the sink and kissing her good morning.

Penny smiled and took a seat at the kitchen table. “My birthday is in two weeks.”

Desmond smiled back and nodded, sitting across from her. “I suppose that requires me to buy you something.”

Penny laughed and shrugged. “I honestly can’t think of anything I could possibly want right now. But I’m dying to try that new Italian restaurant.”

“Dinner and a gift, then,” Desmond decided on his own. “What do you want - jewelry?”

“I said that dinner itself would be fine.”

“I’m getting you a gift. It’s your birthday.”

Penny sighed. “I guess I’d like some new CDs.”

Desmond did a double take. “CDs?”

“Yes,” Penny said sharply, although it was easy to tell she wasn’t even upset. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Desmond laughed and shook his head. “No - sorry. Mamas and the Papas, right?” he asked, smiling as he remembered listening to their albums in the hatch every morning when he thought of Penny.

“They’re my favorite,” she verified with a smile. “And that’s all I want. No fancy jewelry or anything.”

Desmond frowned to himself, trying to decide if she was joking or actually being serious. The curious look he gave her must’ve given her insight to his thoughts.

“Des,” she sighed. “Honestly.”

The next week and a half passed without incident. Not once did he have to deal with anyone named Charlie and he certainly hadn’t hallucinated since. Things were back to normal.

He hadn’t had time to shop for Penny’s birthday, so he looked up a record store that he had never spotted before that wasn’t too far from the house. He didn’t fit in too well with his clean button-down shirt and short hair. All the other shoppers were wearing random band t-shirts, old jeans and Converse. Some had their hair grown out so long that Desmond couldn’t even see their eyes.

After looking at CDs for Penny, he found that most of the Mamas and the Papas albums were marked down to such a low price that it would almost be embarrassing and insulting towards Penny to purchase them. This led him to decide on a much better gift - an old record player that had been restored, along with every Mamas and the Papas record album that he could find. It would be costly - but he didn’t mind. It still cost less than a pair of Penny’s designer shoes.

One of the employees helped him carry the record player up to the register and started to ring up his items. “…Oh…” she said before she gave him his receipt. She sighed boredly. “Ok, sorry, but I have to tell everyone this little spiel. With every purchase over one hundred pounds, you get the bestselling CD of the month for free. Congratulations.”

“So what’s the CD?”

The girl pulled a CD out from under the counter and set it down on top of his newly purchased records. “Drive Shaft’s Greatest Hits album - surprise surprise. It’s only been that way for the past several years. I mean, if you’re a musician and you die in some freak plane crash….you’ve reached Otis Redding status.”

She suddenly noticed that Desmond was staring at her like she had just kneed him in the stomach.

She sighed. “You know…because Otis Redding died in a plane crash.” She cleared her throat. “But when people think you died in a plane crash but you lived and then you died…that even surpasses the Ritchie Valen, Buddy Holly and Jiles Perry Richardson story. ‘The day the music died.’”

Desmond was feeling faint again, and he could only assume he was pale. He didn’t respond to the girl. He tried to open his mouth to ask her for the receipt, but no words came out.

She was still convinced that he had no idea what she was talking about. “You know - that’s why Don McLean wrote the song. ‘Good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singing ‘this will be the day that I die’…? …American Pie?”

Desmond’s fists clenched.

She rolled her eyes. “Lets start over. Charlie Pace was in a plane crash. Bestselling CD. The end.”

“I know the story,” Desmond belted out, louder than he had expected. “I don’t want the bloody CD.”

The girl frowned at him. “But it’s free.”

“Let me choose another CD.”

“…No. I’m not allowed.”

She put his records in a bag and threw the CD in as well. “If you had spent two hundred pounds, you would’ve gotten two.”

Desmond snatched the bag away from her and carried the boxed record player out to the taxi that was waiting for him.

Something like this was bound to happen eventually, he decided. It’s fine. It’s normal. It won’t happen again.

Penny was out having drinks with a few friends, leaving Desmond home alone to realize he was extremely paranoid and upset about the day’s events. But he tried to push them behind him like he had already done so many times before.

He sat on the living room floor, attempting to wrap the record player. But he found that his hands were shaking. Ripping off a piece of tape from the roll turned out to be a harder task than it should’ve been. As soon as he was done wrapping, he tore off all the paper again and decided to do a better job when he wasn’t so agitated.

He poured himself a glass of wine to soothe his nerves, only to remember that he hadn’t drank alone since Charlie had died. Before he had gotten onto the helicopter and eventually participated in the weekly war, he had time to sit alone on the beach and think - but mostly drink. It was enough time to realize he was a lying, selfish bastard. But not nearly enough time to let the numbness he felt from it all go away and for everything to really sink in. Nothing had ever soaked in. Not until now, at least.

He immediately gave up on the wine and turned on the radio…only to be informed by an old Anna Nalick song that “life’s like an hourglass glued to the table” and “no one can find the rewind button.”

He tolerated a few cheesy songs from MC Hammer and The Bangles before “Good Vibrations” started playing and he had to turn down the volume, his eyes stinging and his hands shaking again.

He picked up the Greatest Hits CD that he had placed on the kitchen table and opened it, taking out the lyric booklet. As he flipped through it, he saw pictures of a Charlie that he hardly recognized. He was clean, smiling, happy, young. They were all pictures that Desmond could’ve found with a simple Google search, but he had never Googled Charlie’s name.

He scanned over a mini-bio. Some of the information was familiar, while some of it was brand new. Seeing Charlie die over and over had made Desmond feel like he knew the man inside out. But it was painful when he realized all the things that they had never discussed.

After a few minutes of hesitation, he put the CD into the player, flipped to a track where Charlie had the main vocals and not his brother, and sat down at the kitchen table. It was a soft, acoustic song that Desmond remembered Charlie playing on the Island. He didn’t listen to the words because he was too caught up in listening to the familiar voice alone. About thirty seconds into the track, he put his head on the table and cried over Charlie for the first time since watching him die.

Two hands rested on his quivering shoulders and he groaned, raising his head. Now he’d have to explain to Penny exactly why a Drive Shaft CD was playing in the background, his cheeks were streaked with tears, and her present was left in the middle of the floor next to a pile of torn up wrapping paper. He put his hand on hers as he turned around.

“I just-”

But it wasn’t Penny. Charlie stood behind him. Darker hair, bright eyes, well-dressed. Not the Charlie Desmond was used to, but he was still able to recognize him.

“Get out,” Desmond growled, standing up and pushing Charlie towards the door, as if he even needed a door to leave. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t real. It couldn’t happen. It wasn’t even close to possible. A manifestation of his guilt.

“You lied to me,” Charlie accused, pushing Desmond’s trembling arms away and glaring at him. “You used me! You knew they wouldn’t be rescued!”

Desmond’s heart was thumping madly as he took several steps back. Yes - only a manifestation of his guilt. But he was still alarmed. He had never been afraid of Charlie. But the look he was giving him at the moment made him feel suddenly very small and vulnerable. Probably the same way Charlie had felt when faced with all the versions of his death.

“No,” Desmond tried, voice shaky. He took a few nervous steps towards him. “I saw people get onto a…I just thought everyone would…”

Charlie was still glowering at him. “You see Penny, too?”

Desmond’s eyes widened angrily. He had momentarily forgotten that this was all in his head. “I said get out!”

“We need to talk.”

“About what?! No! Get out!”

Charlie grabbed his arm, yelling something angrily that Desmond couldn’t make out. He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed Charlie away.

“Get out!”

When he opened his eyes again, Charlie was gone, but he was still breathing heavily. He ran over to the CD player and took out the Greatest Hits album. He was about to throw it into the trash when he realized he had just made an already angry ghost angrier. Throwing away the said ghost’s CD probably wouldn’t make things any better.

But what was he thinking? There was no ghost. No Charlie. He tossed the album into the trash and walked away.

An hour later, he walked back to the kitchen and pulled it out.