Rating: PG-13
Summary: Angst/humour fic. Naomi's people arrive on the island and kill everyone in sight. Desmond is sent hurtling back through time and space. He meets with Charlie Pace in a series of alternative realities and together they attempt to alter the course of fate.
Characters: Desmond, Charlie, Penny and Mrs Hawking.
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost.
Warnings: Extreme angst in the first chapter.
Authors Note: Please don't be put off by the beginning! This story starts tragic, but quickly becomes a humour fic. Enough crying and mourning. This story is in loving memory of the Charlie who made us laugh. Thanks as always to pacejunkie for her editing tips.


How could fate have been so cruel?

Desmond lay sprawling on the ground, one bullet lodged in his shoulder and another embedded in his knee. The pool of his own blood was spreading swiftly through the grass. The explosions, the gunfire and the screams were drawing closer now. Above all these sounds, Desmond could hear his own deranged laughter echoing up through the treetops while tears streamed his cheeks.

This is my fault, he realised. He laughed again, laughing so hard he thought he might choke. He had sent Charlie to the Looking Glass – sent him to drown – so that these people on the boat could reach the island. Desmond prayed that wherever Charlie was now he was free from the knowledge that his brave beautiful sacrifice had brought only violent bloody death to his friends.

Desmond reached a trembling hand into his shirt pocket and pulled out Charlie's list. These were five best moments of his life. His Greatest Hits. The paper was spattered with blood and frail from the seawater. The note was meant for Claire, but Desmond could no longer deliver it to her. Still he felt like somebody should read this. He let it unfold in his palm and squinted over the bold black letters. Most of the list was now illegible…there was something about being taught to swim, something about being called a hero. It all seemed so painfully ironic. The moment ranked number 1# was the only thing Desmond could clearly discern.

The night I met you…Charlie had died for love.

Claire and Aaron had gotten on their helicopter. He hadn't been wrong about that. What Desmond didn't see were the guns being levelled at Claire's back. He didn't see the corpses lying strewn around the chopper; the bodies of the people who had tried to stop them taking her. Desmond shuddered to think what a terrible fate he had inflicted on that poor girl and her baby. This was his fault! He had crashed their plane. He had caused these people to become stranded on this island. And now he had allowed his flashes to be the shaping of their doom.

Desmond rolled onto his side and vomited, sickened by his own crippling shame. He realised then that he hadn't been laughing at all. Those sounds coming from his throat were hacking sobs and retches.

"I'm sorry Charlie…I'm sorry Penny…I was wrong. I should have changed it! I was supposed to change it! I'm so…"

There was another explosion. The wind of this explosion hit him hard in the back and caused the soil beneath him to erupt.

Then everything went black.