Death is in the Dharma Cards [Desmond]

[Charlie Pace]

No. No, he wouldn't die.

Charlie's pulse was racing, hammering in his throat and suddenlly, he was enraged. Charlie would die because he was in charge of his own fate. Wasn't that what all those hippie bastards in Los Angeles had told him? He was in charge of himself, Charlie knew that. Only he could decide what HE was going to do.

"Hey!" Charlie said, making sure he was out of distance of Claire's hearing. He moved quickly to Desmond, grabbing his shoulder to spin him around. "Whatever your 'visions' say about me, they're WRONG." Charlie didn't think about when Desmond had stopped him from getting shot throught he neck. He couldn't think about that. "You don't bloody tell someone that they're gonna die and just walk off! That isn't how it goes, brother."

Charlie took in a breath, still steaming. "You're wrong. I can't die. And don't pull that shit about me thinkin' that I'm immortal; I don't think I'm immortal, I just know I'm getting off this bloody Island. I told Claire I'd get off and that's what's gonna happen." he said surely, crossing his arms across his chest. He was sure he was acting like a child, a small pathetic child that didn't want to listen, but how would anyone else act when faced with the news that they were going to die?

[Desmond Hume]

Could he let him die? Would he have such a cold heart as to let Charlie die? It seemed as if there was no hope for him. He couldn't just give his "visions" the cold shoulder and make them go away. Everything he sees is crucial, an important aspect that he must concentrate on. But there was no way to prevent something that is supposed to happen from occurring. There is no possible way that Desmond could save Charlie Pace's life. But how could he tell this to him?

Desmond sat on a tree branch laying in the dry, white sand. He pulled out a glass bottle of whiskey and broke off the cap. His mind was elsewhere, but his habit of drinking was still there. He gulped down several drinks, and pulled the bottle away from his mouth. Charlie was wandering his direction, speaking loudly, but only for his ears. The man looked confused and agitated. Frustration seemed to fill both of their minds at the moment.

Desmond heard his ranting as he drew nearer. "You're wrong. I can't die. And don't pull that shit about me thinkin' that I'm immortal; I don't think I'm immortal, I just know I'm getting off this bloody Island. I told Claire I'd get off and that's what's gonna happen." Desmond could only listen. It always seemed that Desmond couldn't find the words for anything. His mind was always somewhere else during conversations with others.

After Charlie finished, Desmond turned to him and said, "Care for a drink, brotha'?" He knew that he must find a way to tell Charlie that he can't save him forever, but for now, he needed to get his mind off that topic. Everyone always enjoys a good drink now and then, anyhow.

[Charlie Pace]

"Do I care for a--"

Charlie's harsh words stopped in his tracks as he saw the bottle of whiskey in his hand. For a moment, Charlie wanted to haul off and punch Desmond, but the bottle looked too good. Snatching it from Desmond's grasp, he downed a large gulp, wincing at the paunful burning. "Don't--" he started, and felt the burn go down into the pit of his stomach. He felt his eyes close for a brief second before he opened them once more. "Don't think this is going to make me less pissed at you. You're tellin' me that I'm gonna die and you're just sittin' over here drinkin' whiskey like--" Charlie moved with a frown, sitting down in the sand next to Desmond. He stared out at the ocecan before taking another long gulp of the firey liquid. He moved, handing Desmond back the bottle.

"I love her, Desmond." Charlie said after a moment, his voice no longer loud, but still stern. "I love her, and y'know what that means? I'm gonna be there for her. I'm gonna be there for her and take care of her and protect her and to do that, it means I'm not gonna die. 'Cause you can't very well take care of something if you're all bloated and dead."

[Desmond Hume]

Desmond listened to what Charlie had to say after he snatched the bottle of whiskey from his hands and starting downing a few gulps. It only made it more difficult for Desmond to say anything when he mentioned Claire, and his heartwarming love for her and Aaron. Desmond had absolutely no idea what he'd say to Charlie when he finished speaking. He looked down at the sand. His feet were covered in it, but it felt relaxing to them. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey from Charlie's hand, drinking a bit more from it.

He looked up at Charlie. For several moments he didn't say anything, and neither did Charlie. Reason being, Desmond was clueless as to what to say and Charlie was waiting for a response. Looking out into the sea, Desmond noticed that the sun would soon be going down. They would need a fire, so Desmond rose from his branch and kneeled next to a pit that everyone used to start a fire. There was already a circle of large rocks, and a few pieces of wood set in place, so Desmond got a twig and began twisted it rapidly through his hands, hoping to get a fire going.

He guessed that Charlie was probably even more agrivated with him for not answering him, and could almost see his facial expression as he watched him light a fire. Finally, Desmond turned around and said, "It's getting dark. We're gonna need a fire." He knew he was avoiding talking, but he wouldn't be able to without a fire. Desmond half-waited for Charlie to butt in and say something, but so far he hadn't. Desmond kept twisting the twig, and a strip of grey smoke arose from them, soon creating large flames. Desmond rose, and sat back in his seat.

[Charlie Pace]

As Desmond moved to start a fire, Charlie felt a large sigh escape his lips. He watched as the fire grow in size, and soon, it was roaring and warm. Charlie tossed a stray peice of seaweed into the fire and his gaze was set to outside the ocean. "Did you hear a bloody word I said?" Charlie asked, irritated as he looked from the ocean to Desmond's face. "I love her, you sodding idiot. Crashin' on this bloody Island and meeting her was the best thing that's ever happened to me in my life and--and you say this is meaningless, that I'm just gonna...gonna DIE?" he asked. "Okay, picture it from my side. Say I'm tellin' you that you're gonna die some big mysterious death on this island after you've done so much to get back to--to Penny, was it? Yeah, so I tell you all that...and then I don't elaborate. I don't give you one bloody explination. What would you do?"

He looked over at Desmond once more. "It's not going to happen because I need this, Desmond. I havn't had happiness in my life, true and utter happiness for so long and I think I deserve to be a little selfish in wanting to keep it."

[Desmond Hume]

Charlies rambling was beginning to give Desmond a headache. He didn't know what to tell him. Any answer he could give would be in the wrong words. When he brought Penny into the conversation, Desmond couldn't take it anymore. "I don't know, okay? I have no bloody idea what to tell you," he said in a stern, loud voice. He paused, staring at Charlie. What else was there to say? What did Charlie want him to tell him? He continued, still in the same tone. "I can't just stop these...these visions. The only thing I can tell you is what I see. I can't explain why it keeps happening, even after I've saved you already. It just bloody does. All I know is that I won't be able to protect you forever..." Desmond stopped talking. He picked up a smooth rock that was covered in sand and tossed it into the sea. He was terrible at skipping rocks, but sometimes when he was alone he'd practice the position of his wrist. He was so frustrated right now that the rock just caused a large splash and sunk directly down. He let out a long sigh.

Desmond quickly downed some more of the whiskey in his hand, nearly finishing it off. But there were still a few more gulps left in it. He handed it to Charlie, who was probably a little shocked. "Here. Drink the rest of it," Desmond told him. His long greasy hair was getting annoying, and he tried pushing it back a few times. Still, it just went right back in place as soon as he let go of it. He put his hand on his forehead. Too many thoughts filled his head for him to think about anything. That's how it always is with him. Frustration seemed to follow Desmond around everywhere, never releasing him from its bind. And that just caused even more frustration.

[Charlie Pace]

Charlie jerked slightly as Desmond's voice shot out, peiricing the silence of the Island. "Bloody hell." he said after a moment. He looked over at the man as he handed him the whiskey bottle, and he finished it off, half enjoying the taste of the firey liquid, and half hating the burning sensation it had on his stomach. "Did it ever occur to you," Charlie said afte r he had finished off the bottle, tossing it onto the sand. "that I may not need to be protected?" Charlie asked, looking over at Desmond. "I'm a big boy. And I know you've seen me die or whatever, but I'm of the people that believe that I have control of my life."

Charlie stared out at the ocean once more at the ocean. "Did I ever tell you I actually did die once?" he asked, looking from the ocean to Desmond. "I did. I overdosed in my hotel room. My brother had to rush me to the hospital. They said my heart stopped for a minute, so in theory...I was dead. I really don't remember much of it; I remember taking the drugs, and then I remember passing out but I don't really remember much of what happened in between. If I saw any bright light or anything." Charlie picked up a twig on the sand, playing with it with his fingers. "You weren't there before, and I could have easily passed on to the other side, but I didn't. True, you didn't see that before it happened, but would you have just been as eager to rush to my aide before?" he asked, and then shook h is head slightly. "Point I'm tryin' to make, is that you can't be there forever. The only person that can truely stop me from dying is me. It's gonna be me, Desmond. I'm gonna stop it, because I'm bloody tired of everyone always wanting to look out for me."

[Desmond Hume]

Desmond watched Charlie down the last bit of the whiskey and tossed it into the sand. He'd started talking, and Desmond could only sit and listen to what he had to say. Charlie was half-right. He was a big boy, he could take care of himself. But the problem that he failed to realize is that Desmond's visions having meaning to them. He knew that Charlie was too stubborn to believe what he supposedly saw, but how could he blame the man for denying his death? He probably would too if he was in his shoes. Desmond began to wonder whether or not he should keep reminding him that the clock is ticking, and that his life was in grave danger. He couldn't keep doing it. Desmond had to stop warning him.

Although his mind told him no, his words seemed to come out differently. Somewhere, back in his confused and agitated head, Desmond wanted to make him realize the importance of his visions. No, he needed to. Desmond nearly grimaced as he responded to Charlie. "Look. I understand why you would deny this situation, but I'm not lying to you, brotha'. I'm not just somehow making this all up, like something out of my imagination. I'd like to believe that every person controls their life too, but have you ever thought that maybe this is something else. Like fate, perhaps?" Desmond stared at Charlie with a desperate face, hoping to make him understand.

Desmond knew that Claire and Aaron were important to Charlie. He knew that Charlie couldn't allow himself to give up, and leave both of these people behind. But that was not what Desmond wanted Charlie to understand. He wanted him to know that he had to be prepared for the worst. Desmond desperately wanted to discover a way to help -- to save him. But death was bound to catch Charlie one day. No matter how far away he ran, or how long, Death was on the chase. And its speed was faster than that of Charlie's.

Breathing heavily, Desmond pushed more air out of his lungs as he began talking again. "You need to see what I see, Charlie. All I ask for you to understand is that it can happen at any time. When you least expect it. I know, somewhere back in that head of yours, that you have at least some belief of what I'm telling you. I can't save you. And maybe that's it. Maybe you have to save yourself." At that last sentence, Desmond pointed his finger at Charlie. He released a large breath of air, giving out a sound much like a sigh. Desmond couldn't control what he said. He could only let it flow out from his mouth, in hopes that he could get Charlie to see what he's saying.

[Charlie Pace]

"Well, I can't very well see what you see, can I?" Charlie asked, looking over at Desmond. Charlie feft a sigh escape his lips, as he brought his knees up to his chest. "Look, I told myself once I got with Claire that--that I wasn't going to screw this up. I've had so much happen to me in my life that I can't--I can't believe that I'm going to die now. Not when things are going so good."

"Can you believe that being stuck here on this Island, being here with giant polar bears and smoke monsters and bloody hatches, this is the best thing that's ever happened to me?" He shook his head slightly, laying his forehead against his arms for a second. "Who ever thought that a plane crash could make someone's life change so dramatically?" He moved, tossing a stray bit of seaweed to the ocean. "So, what about you? Your bird? She lovely, then, eh?" he asked, looking over at Desmond, trying to change the drearyness of the subject.

[Desmond Hume]

Charlie had a point. The island really had changed everyone's lives. Including his. And he really couldn't blame him for wanting to be with the person he loved. Desmond let his head lean down to the ground. His one true love, Penny, she was so far away from him at this point. All he wanted since he'd been on the island was to get back to her. To find her. But it seemed hopeless, since he'd left her. She might have found somebody else, or given up on him. But until he knew this for sure, Desmond never gave up hope. Not one day passed by where he didn't think about Penny. She meant the world to him. If only he could find her, and be with her. If only....

And then Charlie mentioned her. It was ironic that he had since Desmond had just been thinking about her, but he took no time to answer Charlies question. He, too, wanted to change the subject, and there was much to say when it came to Penny. "It's complicated, brother. She is more radiant and breath-taking than any other woman in this cruel, desolate world. Being with her, it...it means everything." Desmond sighed. But not everything was good from there.

He continued, upset as he spoke. "But I screwed up, Charlie. I bloody screwed up, and I left her. I left my one true love, the one reason I will never stop searching for her." He had his arms crossed, resting on his knees. He was silent from there. The thought of Penny brought back the painful guilt that terrorized Desmond's mind and soul. How could he have done such a thing to her? How could he have been so selfish as to leave her behind, just to prove to her father that he was worth something? And now, Desmond could only sit in the sand, dreaming of her and what it would feel like if he could only talk to her, or see her.

[Charlie Pace]

Charlie felt himself sigh as he listened to Desmond speak about Penny. He felt his eyes look down at the sand silently. "I had a girl that I screwed it up with once. Royally. Her name was Lucy. Long story short, I stole a cigarette case and then threw up on it in withdrawls. She didn't like that much." He tossed a stray peice of seaweed. "Sadly, she probably won't forgive me the same way as your Penny will." Charlie said honestly, looking over at Desmond. "Then again, she wasn't my true love or anything. I thought I could make it work, though." He shrugged slightly. "Looking back, I know I cared for her, but I was so messed up with the drugs that half the time I didn't even think of her." However, he thought of Claire all the time, and even the simple thought of her now made him smile. "Claire, however...I think I really could settle down with her. With Aaron. Be a proper family. And I was never one for family 'cause I never thought I'd get one."

"You're gonna see your girl again, Des. And I'm gonna be with mine. It'll all work out. It's got to." Charlie told the man. "I mean, we've been on this shit Island for 3 months. You longer than that. Somethin's gotta give, mate, honestly. And when it does, they'll both be waiting for us with open arms."

[Desmond Hume]

[Hah, I just watched that episode I've been watching the first season, and I just got finished watching the episode about Charlie and Lucy.]

Charlie mentioned that everybody was bound to get off the island soon. Desmond began laughing, and didn't know how to stop. He didn't even know why he was laughing. "Charlie, I've been here for over 3 years. I've been on this bloody island for 3 years, and for what? I pressed a fake button that supposedly would be the death of everything on the island! I don't think rescue coming any time soon, brotha." Desmond wasn't one to put down people who had high hopes of getting off the island, but right now, he didn't have much faith. His grin that had overcome him faded, and he threw a stick into the sand, a bit frustrated. He never had tried to be saved before he met the survivors of Oceanic Flight 815. No; Desmond had been to busy trying to save himself. He had never left the hatch, for fear of what might occur if he didn't push the button. The beach was too far away for him to walk, and the alarm would have gone off by the time he got close to it.

Trying not to think about it, he ran his finger through his hair. It was getting dark now. The sun had set moments ago, and now the darkness filled the sky. The fire in front of Desmond was making him sweat, and was burning his face from the heat. But he didn't care. He let the warmth of the fire stay heating his face. He looked up from the fire, only to see Claire holding Aaron in her arms. He looked back at Charlie, and said "She's great, you know." Seeing Charlie's somewhat confused expression, Desmond continued. "Claire. She's really great. I can see why you love her. I hope everything works out for the best between you two." He smiled at Charlie. It was probably one of the few smiles he'd had all day. The day hadn't been a particularly good one for Desmond, but talking to Charlie made him feel better. He was a good friend.

[Charlie Pace]

As Desmond began laughing, Charlie's brows narrowed. This was hardly a time to laugh, Charlie thought silently, and then maybe thought that the man had drunk more whiskey than he had thought. His laughter was infectious, causing a small confused smirk to cross his lips, before Desmond spoke, about the hatch, about the button and the world ending-ness that had never came. "Well, yeah," Charlie said after a moment, "but babies weren't supposed to be born on the Island either, were they? Somethin' about curlin' up and dyin' inside of the mum and then killin' her too, right? But look. That--" Charlie said, pointing to Aaron that was being held in Claire's arms. "That's a baby, mate. Born here, on this Island. I was there. It was a very bloody and goo-y mess, but it was one of the most, if not the most beautifully disgusting things that I've ever witnessed. A fat, happy baby, Desmond, and also a fat happy reminder that even though they say somethin's gonna happen...it doesn't mean it's true."

Desmond spoke of Claire, and a smile spread on Charlie's face at even the simple mention of her name. However, the smile held a tinge of sadness, and he looked at Desmond from where Claire sat up on the beach. "Everythin' isn't gonna work out so well for the both of us if I'm dyin', is it then?" he asked the Scot, before he smiled slightly, looking towards the fire. "She can't know, Desmond." Charlie said seriously. "I don't want her to worry. She's got enough to worry about with the baby, I can't--this'll just upset her. And I can't have her upset. I just got her to like me again." Charlie said with almost a half of a smirk.

[Desmond Hume]

"Everythin' isn't gonna work out so well for the both of us if I'm dyin', is it then?" Charlie was right. But Desmond wouldn't let himself begin to talk about Charlies death again. Seeing Claire just brought the guilt and sorrow that Desmond was carrying back. He didn't want Charlie to die. He didn't want to see him die, while Claire would be left behind in heartache. But what could he do? Nothing...he couldn't do anything. Desmond hoped he was wrong, that maybe his vision was just a nightmare, not one of his precognition's that he loathed. Couldn't they, for once, show him something good instead of some sort of traumatic event?

Desmond brought himself back from his thoughts. "Perhaps. But maybe that's for the best, brotha'. Maybe fate has something else in mind for Claire. And maybe your the one who can give it to her." Desmond didn't even know if he understood what he'd just said, but the words seemed to flow through his mouth without any intention. Attempting to change the conversation back, Desmond continued. "Widmore refused my request to marry Penny. He believed that I was not worthy of his daughter, and made me hate myself. That's why I left. It wasn't because I didn't love Penny, no, I loved her more than anything in the world. But I had to find myself before I could be with her. I believed Widmore. I believed that I was a screw-up, that I wasn't good enough for Penelope. But I made a mistake..." Desmond looked down, ashamed of himself. The words that he spoke brought forth guilt. If he wanted to fix his mistake, he had to forgive himself first. But how?

[Charlie Pace]

Charlie laid his head on his arms, glancing sideways at Desmond as he spoke. He spoke of Penny and someone named Widmore, and his brows narrowed in thought. "Y'know, I know it's the proper thing t'do and all, askin' the father for his daughter's hand, but...but did you really believe that he'd say yes? Sounds like this Widmore bloke is a hard-up prat. And this is coming from someone who could be the poster-boy for fuck ups in life." Charlie pointed out with a slight frown.

"Y'can't love someone if you don't love yourself. Y'can't be with anyone if you can't even be with your own mind. And if she's as good a girl as you say, she'll understand that. Women are like that, I've found. They say they're all emotional and dodgey when you try to explain things, but I think women know us men better than we know ourselves. They understand that we don't think and we're always second guessing ourselves. And sure, some women are complete slags that don't have the heart to try to understand everything that goes on in our head...but then there's girls like your Penny and my Claire. The good girls that are willing to be with the sods like us, through all our faults."

Charlie paused, realising that he had just said a mouthful, and he blinked, looking at Desmond with a slow smile. "Or maybe she just things you're a terrific shag and little screw ups wont really bother her in the end. But I think you just got yourself a really good girl who doesn't care if you screw up every once in a while as long as you tell her you love her."