Summary: Three characters, three imaginary weddings.

Characters/Pairings: Charlie/Claire, Alex/Karl, Sawyer/Kate, Desmond/Penny.

Disclaimer: Lost is my divorced spouse.

Rating: PG-13

Dream Weddings for Doomed Lovers

Charlie stood in the shadow of the church. Progress on its construction had been halted since Eko had run off into the jungle brandishing his Jesus stick. Charlie hoped that the priest had recovered from his funny turn and would soon be returning to their work. He had chopped and sanded more lumber in preparation but with Eko being very large and terrifying in his proportions, Charlie hadn't dared to add to the structure without his approval.

Charlie might have a few physical limitations when it came to their building labour, but his imagination had acquired a feel for architecture. He could already picture the finished church in his mind's eye. They would need to strengthen its walls; maybe by fitting some bamboo frames in between the struts. Then they could add more beams to the roof and thatch it with palm leaves, so the sun would peep through to light the interior. While Eko had been away he had also toyed with idea of carving a cross to stand before the doorway. But on refection Charlie had considered that the cross symbol might be alienating to people in their camp of differing religions. He wanted this church to be for everyone.

This church could become the heart of their community; a place for all their prayers and confessions. A place where babies could be baptised and the dead could be given their last rites. Charlie had made his peace with the thought that rescue wasn't coming any time soon. There was part of him that didn't want it to come just yet. Charlie had things he wanted to see through on the island. This church and its potential ceremonies was one of them.

Who knows? Charlie considered playfully. Maybe before those long-awaited helicopters show up this church will have seen its first wedding...

Charlie chewed this thought over in his twitchy brain. He took a long thin stick from the ground and began tracing a few rough lines in the sand; marking out where the pews ought to be. He then added markers to the lines, trying to estimate how many people they could seat inside the church. After quickly adding up his dots Charlie decided that there might be enough room for the whole camp if they squeezed up close. And there would still be a space at the far end of the church for Eko to stand; the priest who would join the loving couple in holy matrimony.

Charlie breathed out a satisfied sigh. He turned back to the entrance. His imagination was running away with him now. He was already picturing the Bride walking up the space that he had left for the aisle. Claire could wear the creamy satin dress that they had found in the spare luggage. He could imagine her yellow hair spilling down over her shoulders. He could see her with a headdress of wild flowers gathered from the jungle. She wouldn't need any make up.

Giving into his fantasy for now, Charlie started to imagine himself waiting to meet Claire at the end of this imagined aisle. Maybe Jack would lend him his suit; let him shorten the sleeves and trouser legs. Charlie fiddled with the silver ring on his finger; his grandfather's ring. It would be too big for Claire's dainty hands, but it would be appropriate for the service, considering its sentimental value. Claire would probably be the best person to keep it safe until it was time to pass it onto the little one…oh Christ, he really was losing it now.

Charlie couldn't help himself. When Claire had accepted his peace offering of the vaccine kit, it seemed like she might be close to forgiving him. He had been clean for a month now. Charlie smiled as he realised that the itch under his skin, that old craving for a fix…it really was gone now. At last he could understand why Liam had refused to come on the tour with him. This feeling was so much better. This strong clean feeling that told Charlie he was ready.

He was capable of taking care of a family now. He felt like his whole life was ahead of him.

"To love and to cherish…'till death do us part…" Charlie whispered, closing his eyes and reaching out for Claire's imaginary hand.

Sawyer felt like he must be getting old. According to the little calendar on the wall it was a Saturday night and he was sitting indoors in the cosy white house he had moved into in Othersville. He was sipping from a cup of hot cocoa that was nursing his dry throat. His feet were still blistered from his trek to the Black Rock, but he had found a pair of slippers in the downstairs wardrobe. And if this picture wasn't sad enough Sawyer was currently sitting in front of the TV watching the last episode of Happy Days that he had found recorded at the end of the Xanadu tapes. Joanie and Chachi were getting married in the Cunningham's garden. Sawyer smirked as he remembered that 'Chachi' was the first nickname he had given to Karl.

He raised a hand to the curtains, peering through the front window.

The stars were only just coming out, but the two teenagers were already sitting together on the swing set, waiting for the chance to name the constellations all over again. Karl had come to his house earlier in the evening to beg a bottle of wine from Sawyer. It was the last bottle in his rack, but he had handed it over anyway, seeing as he had nobody to share it with. In the real world neither of those kids would be old enough to drink, but what did it matter here?

Alex's adoptive daddy was locked in a shed somewhere so he couldn't cause any further mischief. Her real but estranged mother was patrolling the Barracks; a lone sentry ready to pick off any of those lying bastards who came here from the boat. No, Ben and Rousseau were certainly not the Cunninghams. Sawyer wondered how those kids had grown up so damn innocent. He decided some day the two of them would be married in that little garden by the swings. He could imagine them a Joanie and Chachi style wedding. He could see a buffet table laden with jellies and ice cream and pink lemonade stretching out before their happy dancing eyes. Maybe if Sawyer was lucky they would let him be their Fonzi. But before the big day came Karl and Alex would just be giggling and hiccupping and waiting for the stars.

"To have and to hold, from this day forward…" Sawyer muttered, raising his cup of hot chocolate to the adorable couple.

The loneliness was eating away at him now. Hurley was visiting Casa Claire for the evening. Kate had left early this morning, following their row. For lack of any other form of company Sawyer turned back to the screen where Mr Cunningham was making his toast to the newly weds. Then there was the closing montage of all those wholesome Happy Days moments that Sawyer had never known the like of in his own childhood, so he was all the more drawn to them in TV land.

He realised now that he never should have asked Kate to stay. Sawyer should have known that they could never be Joanie and Chachi. Maybe at best they could have been Bonnie and Clyde. If they had ever escaped from this rock, they could have gone on the run together. They could have pulled cons together; they could have held up banks, they could have shot down their enemies side by side. They could have run as far as their luck would last them, until their crimes caught up with them. After that the only aisle that Sawyer and Kate would have to walk down together would be the one that led them to the gas chamber.

Well, he didn't suppose that Kate and the Doc would have the Happy Days garden wedding either. If they were ever to get hitched it would be more like the straining romances of a Jane Austen novel. After a few hundred pages Miss Pride and Mr Prejudice would finally get over themselves and cut to the chase. They would go down to the chapel. They would grit their teeth and smile. They would forever hold their peace.

Following the phone call from the Freighter, Penny had opened the last bottle of Moriah wine that she had been saving for Christmas Day. It hadn't taken long for the red wine to go to her head. She was already drunk on Desmond's words; on the sound of his voice, the breathless promises in her ears.

It hadn't taken long for Penny to get more than a little bit silly.

It had started with the dress at the back of her wardrobe. The £8, 000 wedding dress that her father had bought her in attempt to force her and her long term fiancé, Elliot, into finally setting a date for the ceremony. The dress that Penny had been allowed to keep even after the wedding had been cancelled as she had slipped Elliot his bribe to end their sham engagement. Carelessly ripping the dress out of its plastic wrapping, Penny stripped off all her clothes, she spent one giddy moment twirling around naked and sighing Desmond's name, and then she climbed into the hideously over-priced frock and returned downstairs to the living room.

She turned off all the Christmas lights and lit candles on the mantelpiece. Candles were romantic and holy. Penny had always wanted to get married in the evening by candlelight. Once the lighting was right she moved onto the music; taking the record of Mozart's Le nozze di Figaro from its sleeve; their favourite opera. Penny took the roses from the vase on the window, not caring when the thorny stems pricked at the soft skin of her palms. Penny was a child again; a little girl playing out her dream wedding. She whispered her vows softly under her breath.

"For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health…"

Penny took a deeper breath and dreamily slipped into vows of her creation; I love you – I'll find you, Des – no matter what – I won't give up – I promise – I love you. With this mantra Penny and Desmond had already been joined together in love. But she wanted to say those words to him again on their wedding day and every day that followed. At last she could savour this dream without feeling that it was crazy or hopeless. She was on the verge of making it happen.

The wedding scene was coming alive to her now. Penny could see her friends, beaming proudly, chewing their lips, dabbing their eyes with hankies. On the groom's side of the hall, Penny saw the blurry faces of the survivors of Flight 815. She didn't know them yet, but Penny dearly hoped that she could rescue enough of them to fill those chairs. She imagined Desmond might choose his friend Charlie to be his best man. Then Penny tried to imagine the groom himself. She supposed Desmond would thin and sunburnt with long hair and a matted beard. He would have new scars and lines on his face where there were none before. But Penny would smooth and trim them all away to find the man who she loved underneath.

The picture was almost complete apart from the one piece that she winced to imagine. No little girl's dream wedding could be perfect unless her daddy was there to walk her down the aisle; the loving father who would give her away, who would give her husband his blessing. No, that part was too much to wish for.

Penny sighed, her dream scattering away like confetti in the wind. She threw the bouquet of roses over her shoulder and heard it hitting the Christmas tree. Penny flopped down on her couch and waited for her head to stop spinning. It was only then that she realised she had spilled red wine down the front of her wedding dress. Now she looked like a Bride who had been gunned down by an assassin's bullet; her heart blood soaking into the white lace.

What a thought to spoil her wedding dreams. Penny supposed her mind had darkened in these long years of desperate searching. But the search would be over soon. As long as she had Desmond, everything would be fine.

The End