Disclaimer: I do not own Des, Penny or anyone from Lost. The song lyrics are from the song "Set the fire to the third bar", as performed by Snow Patrol and Martha Wainwright, and are owned by Polydor Ltd. Anything from Lost is owned by ABC.

Author's Note: This is dedicated to the DesPenny shippers on The Fuselage. Enjoy, everyone, and please review if you like it.

Miles from where you are

I find the map and draw a straight line

Over rivers farms and state lines

A few days after I got that call from Mathias, I got a package in the post. When I opened it, I found several read-outs from the monitoring station, and a world map on which Mathias had marked the location of the "Electromagnetic Anomaly" for me. He had included a second map as well, covering a smaller area – an area of the south Pacific, near Fiji. He had marked the spot with a cross in red marker pen.

For a while, I just stared at the map, stared at that cross marking what appeared to be an otherwise unremarkable piece of ocean. Using the larger map, I worked out the easiest way to get there – fly to Australia or Fiji and travel on by ship. I touched the red cross with a fingertip, and felt my eyes fill with tears. It had been so long – almost five years, now – and I had spent so much time and energy trying to find him it was a relief to know that finally I had a proper, physical location.

But now, I know things I would never have imagined five years ago. I found out that the Widmore Corporation, my father's company, was involved in a project involving "unusual electromagnetic activity" somewhere in the South Pacific. My father was involved in whatever it was that took Desmond away from me. If, no, when I find him, how will I explain that? I have no idea.

The distance from a to where you'd b

It's only fingerlengths that I see.

Looking at the maps, it doesn't seem all that far. I can cover the distance between us with a few fingers. I'm in Sydney now. A friend of mine is a marine scientist, and he's letting me use his research ship to find the island. I just have to wait for him to arrive, which won't be until tomorrow at the earliest.

I touch the place

Where I'd find your face

My fingers in creases

Of distant dark places.

While I wait, I spend most of my time thinking of Desmond. I wonder if he remembers me. I wonder if his feelings for me are still what they used to be. Sometimes, I wonder if he will even be at this mysterious place that doesn't seem to appear on any map. I don't know anything for certain, I have only a feeling that he will be there. If he isn't, I don't know what I will do.

I hang my coat up in the first bar

There is no peace that I've found so far

The laughter penetrates my silence

As drunken men find flaws in science.

Just sitting in my hotel room was driving me crazy, so I decided to go out for a walk, and I found this very ordinary-looking, quite dingy bar in a back-street I happened to walk down, so I went in for a drink. I ended up sitting in a corner, nursing the same glass for a couple of hours, thinking about Desmond again.

Their words mostly noises

Ghosts with just voices

Your words in my memory

Are like music to me.

Part of me knew there were other people in the room, mostly men propped up at the bar drinking glass after glass and drunkenly debating anything that came into their heads. I don't know what they were saying, to me it only registered as noise. I don't remember exactly what happened, but a man walked in who looked a bit like Des, with the same dark hair, and when the bartender asked what he wanted to drink, he asked for whiskey. For a moment, I was certain that Des was right there, that I didn't need to go to the place marked by a red cross, but then he turned so I could see his face, and it was just some stranger.

Thinking the stranger was Des made me think of the last time I saw him, that night at the stadium when he was training for that blasted race. He said he would be back in a year. He said he would win the race – my father's race – and come back in a year. After he said that, I knew I had to wait. I waited a year and he didn't come back. Then, I heard that one of the boats taking part in Father's race had gone missing. See, they had to check in at different points on the course, and the last place Des checked in with the organisers was right here, in Sydney. He was supposed to do it again in Fiji, but his boat never arrived.

And miles from where you are

I lay down on the cold ground and I

Pray that someone picks me up

And sets me down in your warm arms.

I dreamt of him that night. It was a strange dream. I dreamt that I was walking down a street in the pouring rain, I don't know where it was. In the dream, I was soaking wet and cold, and wishing that I could find somewhere warm and dry. Then it changed, and I was still wet from the rain, but I was on a beach, on a warm tropical night, and Des was there and he was holding me safe in his arms, and I felt warm and loved and secure.

After I have travelled so far

We'd set the fire to the third bar

We'd share each other like an island

Until exhausted close our eyelids.

My friend and his research ship did arrive, and they were quicker than I expected. I gave my friend the coordinates for the place marked by the cross, and we set off. A week or so later, we arrived at the right place and saw an island that, according to the ship's captain, shouldn't have been there. But it definitely was, so we went ashore. As we headed to the nearest beach, I saw people on the shore, running towards the water and waving their arms. We landed and were soon surrounded by a crowd of people, all talking at once.

Eventually I got them to talk one at a time, and learnt that they had been on an airplane that crashed on the island several months previously, and that we were the first outsiders who had come to the island. The people on the beach thought that we were some kind of rescue team, sent to find the survivors of this supposed plane crash. I made a note of the name of the airline – Oceanic Airlines – and the flight number, thinking that I would later check to see if any of their flights had crashed recently. Eventually, the people on the beach went back to their camp, while the researchers and ship's crew went to explore the island. I was left alone on the beach, so I walked the length of their camp, all the time looking for Des. I had done that twice, with no success, when a young woman with long blonde hair came up to me, holding a baby in her arms.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes?"

"Who are you looking for?"

"What?"

"You've walked through the whole camp twice, and you keep looking around. Who are you looking for?"

I looked at her for a moment, before deciding I should probably let her help me. After all, she would probably know who each of the tents and makeshift shelters belonged to.

"I'm not sure if the person I'm looking for is here. Why don't you show me who each tent belongs to, that would help."

"Uh, okay. Sure. I'm Claire, by the way."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Penny. Is that your baby?"

"Yeah. His name's Aaron."

"He's lovely."

"Thanks. So, shall we start?"

The pretty girl called Claire, still carrying her baby, started pointing out shelters. With each one, she added a little information about the person living there. We passed her own shelter, and at least half a dozen others, belonging to Charlie, Locke, a couple called Jin and Sun, Hurley, Jack, Sawyer…

She didn't mention a shelter belonging to Desmond. I liked her, though, so I stayed with her for a while, talking about their life on the island, and she told me about everything that had happened to them.

During Claire's retelling of what had happened, she did mention something she called a 'hatch', which had been found in the jungle – although I gathered that it had somehow been destroyed – and a man who people called Jack, Kate and 'Locke' had met, who had spent three years living inside this 'hatch'. For some reason, three years resonated with me, as that was how long I had been searching for Des, and I found myself asking her to describe this man. She seemed to wonder why I wanted to know, but told me he had quite long, dark brown hair and brown eyes, and spoke with a Scottish accent. The moment she mentioned the accent, I realised that this man in the 'hatch' could have been Des.

"Claire… is this man still around? On this island, I mean."
"Well, right after they found the hatch the computer there got broken, and he ran off into the jungle, but then he showed up again in a boat. He said he had tried to sail away from the island, but he just ended up back here."

"Have you seen him recently?"

"Oh, yes. Only this morning, when I went to get some more water from the spring."

"What spring?"

"Oh, we found some caves near here, with a spring that we use for our drinking water."

"What's his name, this man?"
"Desmond. I don't know his last name… Penny? Are you okay?"

I remember feeling Claire hand on my shoulder, and her concerned expression, and I think I just nodded and told her I was fine. I'm not entirely sure, because I had just realised that I had finally, after so long, I had found him, and I had been waiting for this day for so long that it took a while to sink in. I asked Claire where Des was sleeping, and she pointed out a makeshift shelter on the other edge of camp, that I hadn't even noticed because I thought it was just a pile of spare wood covered by a bit of tarpaulin. I left Claire and her baby then, walking slowly across the camp. Outside his shelter I hesitated thinking of what he would say when he saw me, but I managed to pluck up the courage to pull aside the flap of tarpaulin covering what I now knew was the entrance.

Unfortunately, there was no-one inside, but I saw a red canvas bag in one corner that I recognised as belonging to Des, so I went inside and sat down to wait for him to return. While I waited, I unzipped the bag to see what he thought precious enough to keep with him. Inside there were some shirts and a spare pair of trousers on top, so I lifted them out carefully and put them to one side. Underneath, the first thing I saw was his copy of that old photo from our trip to New York, all those years ago. I lifted it out, kissed it softly and laid it next to me. As well as that, there were a few other little mementos and two books. I didn't recognise one, but it was called The Third Policeman. The other book, though, was that same, ancient and battered copy of Our Mutual Friend that he has been carrying around for years now. I picked it up and as I opened it, a sheet of paper fell out – the letter I had hidden there before he left for prison. It wasn't in the envelope, so he must have read it after all.

When I finally looked up, I saw Des standing in the entrance of his shelter, with a look of pure shock and amazement on his face. I looked up at him, and he whispered "Pen?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but I couldn't find the words so I just nodded, and he came further into the shelter to kneel next to me.

"What are you doing here, Pen? How did you get here?"

"I came to find you, like I said I would. I just arrived, a friend had a ship that they let me use. I was looking for you, and that girl, Claire, the one with the baby, she told me this was where you were sleeping."

Des smiled. "Yea, Claire's a sweet lass. She's been a good friend. But I almost lost hope, Pen. So much has happened, and I thought I'd never see you again. I thought you'd have found someone else by now."

"It was hard, trying to find you. It took me so long. I wasn't even sure you would be here."

"How did you find the island in the first place?"

"It's pretty complicated, and while I was looking I found out some things that I really didn't want to know, so if you don't mind I'll save that for another day. Right now I'm just happy to be here."

"Of course. Whatever you want, Pen. I'm just glad to see you again"

And dreaming pick up from

The last place we left off

Your soft skin is weeping

A joy you can't keep in.

After that, we went for a walk along the beach, and talked, and Des introduced me to some of the other survivors from the plane-crash. We ended up sitting on a rock that had been warmed by the sun, holding hands and watching the sun go down. I rested my head against his shoulder, and smiled to myself as I realised that, after everything we had been through, we had triumphed.

As the setting sun painted the sky in beautiful shades of red and pink, I sat up and kissed him, softly, and whispered in his ear "I love you". He smiled at that, and said "Pen, I love you too."