Title: The Hardest Thing
Pairing(s): Desmond/Claire, implied Charlie/Claire, heavily implied Desmond/Penny
Disclaimer: Lost is not mine; neither are its characters. They're property of JJ Abrams et al, ABC, and Disney.
Summary: He knows he doesn't fit the definition of honorable; he's not what she deserves. Angst.
He wasn't honorable. It was something he'd thought many times when he'd snuck off into the jungle to meet her in the caves.
As they undressed each other, he'd tell himself that he had far more dignity than that sorry excuse for a musician that was constantly buzzing around her.
As their bodies moved in time, he'd tell himself that this was nothing more than a satisfying of their primal instincts.
He'd remind himself that his heart belonged to another as she snuggled against him, post-coital.
He wasn't honorable.
He had told himself these things everyday for three weeks. Her smile, the deep blue of her eyes, the way she'd say his name when she came – they were addicting. But it didn't mean anything.
It was all ruined when she'd told him that she could fall in love with him. He had stopped playing with her hair and had asked her what she'd said. She'd propped herself up on her elbow, keeping her other hand on his chest, and had bashfully repeated the words. He had sat up and told her that that would be a mistake then added that it would be for the best if they ended things. He couldn't look at her because he knew that he'd see the tears in her eyes.
He wasn't honorable.
Silently, she'd gathered her clothes and had left him there.
They had spent the next two months avoiding each other as much as possible. Anytime they did bump into each other, conversations were short and civil.
Then they were rescued.
Walking down one of the corridors of the naval ship, they had run into each other. She had been smiling and he had realized how much he had missed seeing her smile. He had had an impulse to grab her and kiss her, pull her into a room and savor her one more time. He didn't.
When the ship had docked, the world watched them reunite with their loved ones. He hadn't put all his hopes on the expectation that she would be there waiting for him but she was, just as she had promised.
She welcomed him back into her life as she wept that she had never lost hope that he was alive and that he still had her heart. Clinging to her he told her that his love for her had kept him alive and relatively sane. She didn't ask if he had found comfort in anyone else's arms and he didn't offer to tell her.
He wasn't honorable.
That had been nearly six months ago. Now he stood, watching the woman he had loved for most of his adult life walk down the aisle towards him. Now, he began wondering if he'd made the right decision.
He missed her.
He missed the way her face would light up when her son smiled at her. He missed the way she smelled of coconuts. He missed her accent. He missed the mischievous gleam she'd get in her eyes whenever they were near each other on the beach, relishing the fact that no one knew about their secret trysts. He missed her laugh. He missed the way her hair fell around her face when she would lean down to kiss him, as she moved her hips up and down. He missed knowing when she'd be back in his arms.
He missed her.
He looked into the eyes of the woman standing across from him; they were lit up and full of love.
He wasn't honorable.
He should be thinking about this woman, the one he was marrying, the one who ruled his heart and his world, but he wasn't. He was thinking of the woman who had given him everything she had to offer when he had nothing he was willing to give her in return.
She had deserved more than that; she still did. She deserved honorable, which he wasn't. He hadn't deserved her. He hadn't deserved the feelings that she had begun to have for him, the ones he had spurned.
He wasn't honorable.
"Do you, Desmond David Hume, take Penelope Jane Widmore, to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
If he were honorable, he'd do the right thing by all of them.
"Do you promise to love her and cherish her all the days of your life? To forsake all others?"
He looked into her eyes, searching for the answer. She loved him.
She loved him.
And he loved her enough to not make a promise that he was no longer sure that he could keep knowing that he could fall in love with the memory of someone else.
"I'm sorry."
Her smile faltered, "Des?"
"I'm sorry, Penny, but I can't do this."
He didn't know what to expect when he arrived in Sydney four days later. He had spent two days debating whether or not he had done the right thing and how to rebuild the shattered remains of his existence. He had no family, he'd broken the heart of the woman who had loved him with her entire being, and he'd never been good at making those lasting friendships he'd only read about in books. Somehow he'd found himself on a plane headed for Australia.
He stood in the rain outside of her apartment building for a good ten minutes before going inside.
Another three minutes he stood at her door, dripping, wondering if he should really be there.
It's hard to remember if he's ever truly been an honorable man or if he's just tried playing the part.
He counted in his head twenty-one seconds between the times that he knocked and that the door opened.
The cheerful look that she'd worn upon opening the door had faded into one of surprise that quickly turned to wariness and confusion.
"What are you doing here?"
"I can't promise you anything. But if you'll let me, I'd like to try to earn your forgiveness."
He knew that he had no right to ask her to forgive him. He didn't deserve her forgiveness. He deserved for her to tell him to piss off or go to Hell then slam the door in his face but he didn't deserve her forgiveness. He didn't deserve anymore second chances. He deserved to spend to the rest of his miserable life alone.
He didn't deserve to see her eyes soften and for her to grab his hand and lead him inside, saying, "Come on, you're sopping wet."
He didn't deserve any of it because he wasn't honorable but maybe, over time, he could be worthy of all that she was willing to give him.