A/N: I just wanted to post this as a Christmas oneshot, review please! Enjoy, and happy holidays! And by the way, I know that it wouldn't be Christmas during that time, but oh well. It may seem a bit rushed, sorry about that. I just wanted to post it in time for today.

Disclaimer:I don't own So It Is Christmas by John Lennon, Lost, or Christmas, though I wish I did :(

Rating: K+, or PG.

Set during the season finale, right after Charlie drowned and before the castaways arrived at the Radio Tower. Naomi isn't detonated in this one ;) and it is Penny's boat.

Italics is someone talking on the radio.

So It Is Christmas:

You'd think the castaways would know it was Christmas.

You'd think so, but they were all too preoccupied. Too preoccupied with getting rescued.

Most of them, anyway. Claire cradled her son to her chest, shushing him softly. "Darling, don't cry. Daddy's gone to get us rescued." she murmured, pulling his blanket over him more tightly.

"Who's the father?" asked Noami, standing beside the Australian mother.

"Oh," Claire said dismissively. "He...he wasn't on the island."

"Well, at least your baby will get to be back in civilization, yeah?"

Claire smiled half-heartedly. "Right."

Naomi trudged ahead, leaving Claire to care for her child.

Aaron continued to wail, thrashing his tiny fists into his mother's chest.

"He alright?" questioned Hurley, coming up beside her.

"Yeah, he just won't keep quiet," she replied breathlessly, tucking Aaron deeper into her arms.

"We've got to keep going!" called Jack from the front, noting the holdup.

Claire sighed exasperatedly and attempted to treck forward, holding Aaron in one arm, lugging her suitcase in the other.

"Here, let me help." Hurley gently pried the handle of the suitcase from her hand. She smiled gently at him. "Thanks, Hurley."

They walked together. Though neither said a word, they drew comfort from each other.

"You know, I'm sure he's fine." he said, not looking her in the eye.

Claire bit her lip and nodded, fighting back tears. "Yeah." she responded, though she herself didn't believe it.

They walked on, Aaron whimpering most of the way.

"Why do you think he's crying?" questioned Hurley.

"I don't know. Maybe he just misses his da-I mean, Charlie."

Hurley hid a smile and turned to catch Claire blushing.

"Do you really feel that way about him?" he asked curiously.

Claire's blush deepened. "I think so. He's so sweet, I just...I want to be with him forever. I'm just not sure if I want him as a friend or more."

Hurley frowned slightly. "Dude, you need to make up your mind. Charlie deserves an honest answer. He's like...indebted to you, and you'd break his heart."

Claire nodded. Hurley was great, but he wasn't being particularly comforting at this moment.

"Hurley!" called Jack from ahead. "Can you come here for a moment?"

"Coming!" Hurley turned to Claire. "Sorry, got to go." he placed the handle back in her hand and jogged forward.

Claire stared after him, her blue eyes watery. "Yeah."

Claire continued forward, thinking upon what Hurley had said.

Did she love him?

She wasn't sure.

If caring about someone this much, worrying about them more than you could imagine...if that meant you loved them, she did.

But what if she didn't?

She knew Charlie loved her, she'd known since the day he'd shot Ethan.

She hated herself for being undecisive, hated that he knew and she didn't, but couldn't do a thing about it.

Guilt crept through her. How would Charlie feel if he found out?

She felt a presence nearby and turned her head to yell out that she wanted to be left alone, only to see Rose smiling at her sympathetically.

"Yes?" she asked a irrately.

"Honey, just because you're worried, doesn't give you a reason to be rude. He'll be back soon. That boy wouldn't leave you like this." she assured her.

Claire nodded. "But what if he does?" all venom had melted from her voice.

"You need a little bit of faith, hon. Don't you know better than to doubt God?"

Claire scoffed. "Well, it's not like luck is on my side."

"Honey, don't you know? It ain't luck."

"Rose, what are you getting at?"

"I'm just saying, that if you're having trouble coping with your emotions, you need to ask for help."

"Help?" she scoffed incredulously. "I doubt God can help me." she could feel the tears forming in her eyes.

"Claire-"

"Rose, I know you want to help, but I'd rather not talk about it."

Rose sighed, knowing this wasn't the way things should go, but dropped the subject.

"I'm sorry, Rose. It's not your fault, I just...miss him...so much. And I'm so scared." she murmured. She wiped at her eyes briskly.

Rose put her arm around the young girl and whispered to her; "Then ask for help."

Claire felt that Rose was being irritating; pushing her religion on her. She didn't really have a religion. She'd prayed when she was a girl, sure, and a few times for her mom to get better, but when it hadn't worked, she'd given up. Given up on her God. It made her sound like some kind of outcast. An outlaw if you will.

Claire remained stubborn; walked ahead with Rose, still struggling with her suitcase. Rose took it from her and Claire smiled at the kind gesture.

Claire couldn't believe that Desmond would let anything happen to him. To Charlie. They were like brothers; Desmond was the brother Liam never was.

Claire smiled slightly, remembering when Charlie had first spilled his secrets with her. It hadn't been too long after they'd become friends. That was the thing with Charlie; he was much too trusting.

Her smile turned to a scowl as she remembered the incident with the Virgin Mary statues. Charlie had trusted Locke, and he'd deceived him. At that time, Claire had been on John's side; she was scared of the maniac that was trying to steal her baby. But after a heart-felt talk with Charlie, she could sense that he truly hadn't used.

"What's wrong, honey? Your feelings are like a spectacle!" exclaimed Rose, watching her curiously.

Claire blushed. "Nothing."

With Desmond...

Desmond stared tearfully at Charlie's form, shrunken, miserable, locked inside the control room.

"He's so brave." the Scotsman whispered to himself. "He'd do anythin' for that Claire and the baby."

Charlie's empty eyes stared at Desmond, haunting him. As if asking why he hadn't saved him.

"I tried, brother. I really, really tried."

Desmond had never been particularly social; his time in the Hatch could be blamed for that, but Charlie, he was different. He was special. He had marched right up to Desmond, gotten him drunk, and bonded. Well, until Desmond had tried to kill him.

That seemed so long ago; after all, they'd created a special bond.

"Damnit," cursed Desmond quietly as tears coursed down his face, leaving trails of liquid that only added to the salt on his skin.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, turning to leave, not wanting to think these thoughts any longer. He wanted a bottle of rum, Penny, and Charlie back. And to get off this damned island if possible.

Fortunately, he could atleast have the first one. He stalked through the station. His breath hitched in his throat as his eyes rested on Bonnie's deceased form.

At least those deaths hadn't been his fault.

"Damnit all!" he hollered, circling back to the control room. He picked the fire extinguisher from the ground and pounded at the glass door as hard as he could.

"No, no mate, ye're not leavin' me! Ya almost left me once, I'm not going to let that happen again!"

He pounded it again and again, wishing, hoping that the glass would break.

He could do this all day long; become a hermit live in the station, become obsessed with saving Charlie.

Or he could go back. But he knew without Charlie, he wasn't welcomed.

He chose the latter, continuing to pound upon the glass door, sobbing the man's name over and over again.

Besides Penny, Charlie had been one of the only people Desmond could trust. Charlie had trusted him too, though Desmond knew he shouldn't have.

"I'm sorry," Desmond sobbed, entire frame racking with sobs. "I didn' mean to!"

And then the glass shattered, and water flooded out, Charlie's body with it.

Desmond caught him in his arms just in time, resting his cheek against the boy's soaked hair. Water whooshed around them, up to Desmond's knees.

He plunged into the Moon Pool, not even thinking twice.

Charlie beneath his arm, he swam. His breath burned in his throat where it lay captive.

Salt stung at his open eyes, as he pushed the water back, away from him. He needed to get to land as soon as possible.

He kicked his feet hard and advanced by a few feet.

He kept up, though he felt as if his lungs would explode under the pressure.

It was difficult, swimming whilst carrying someone, but Desmond wouldn't give up.

He used his free hand to push off against the wall of the outside of the Moon Pool. He could see the sun from beneath the water.

He couldn't take much longer. He struggled to swim as quickly as possible, though it was difficult.

His cheeks were puffed with the air that he tried to keep captivated.

Finally his head cleared through the water. He coughed and sputtered, flailing his arms, trying to get to the boat.

Whoever had been shooting at them earlier was long gone.

Charlie showed no signs of consciousness. Desmond swore he was going to revive his friend.

He lifted him up, into the canoe with much difficulty and climbered in after him.

"Charlie," he whispered, bending to the man's level to check his breathing. He couldn't hear it.

"No," he felt for a pulse, but couldn't find that either. He needed to revive him.

He performed CPR, but to no avail. Charlie didn't wake. Droplets of water dripped from the tips Desmond's dark hair and clothes onto the bottom of the canoe, darkening the wood.

Desmond's tears ran freely. How could he have let this happen?

"Charlie," he sobbed. "Wakeup, brother. Please, wake up!"

He continued, unrelenting. He'd broken open the control room, he could do this.

But still Charlie didn't wake up.

Desmond sobbed over his friend's body, hopeless. He considered not going back; staying on a different part of the island. But he knew Charlie deserved better than that. He deserved to be returned to his friends. To Claire and baby Aaron.

He sobbed and started to paddle back to the beach, taking his sweet time, thinking upon how he'd break it to the rest of the castaways.

He shouldn't have told him that it was the only way for the rest of them to be rescued. 'How could I be so selfish? Putting one of my only friend's life in danger simply to see Penny again.' he chastised himself.

He could barely look at Charlie's body. His breath hitched in his throat whenever he did.

Perhaps they would be rescued. All because of Charlie's bravery. Would anyone even notice? Would anyone even care that he was gone, having sacrificed his life so that the others may be rescued?

Desmond doubted it. Fresh tears pricked at the back of his eyes as he thought of all they'd been through together.

With Claire...

There was lots of commotion going on. Apparently Jack had been talking to Hurley at the beach, who had left earlier with Sawyer and Juliet.

"Are Charlie and Desmond back yet?" called Claire, jogging up to the group. She'd left Aaron with Rose.

"No," replied Hurley from the beach. "I don't see them yet. But I'm sure they're fine..."

Claire felt a heavy sensation in the pit of her stomach; Fear, sadness, and anxiousness.

She shook her head dismissively, as if her worries were crazy. "Yeah, you're right." she said. "They're fine. I'll see them when we get back."

After more walking, and worrying from Claire, they arrived at the Radio Tower.

Naomi and Jack were working the radio, when suddenly John arrived. He pointed a gun at Jack and Naomi.

Claire watched in horror from her position behind Sun.

"John, put the gun down." Jack tried to reason with him. "I'm trying to get us all rescued."

"What are you doing, you wanker?" demanded Naomi, glaring.

"You don't understand, Jack! We need to stay here, we need to! Turn off the radio, or I'll shoot!"

Jack ignored him, fiddling with the radio. "We've got a signal!" announced Naomi to the rest of the survivors.

"I said, put it down." repeated John, voice low and threatening.

"No, Locke. Just because you want to continue playing the role of hunter on the island, doesn't mean the rest of us want to stay here!"

"Jack-Jack, I'm giving you to the count of five. One..."

"Hello? We're survivors of flight number 815. I repeat, we're survivors of flight 815. Naomi said you were coming to rescue us."

"Two..."

Ben, who was still tied to a nearby tree agreed, saying "Jack, he's telling the truth. You really don't want to do this."

"Yes, I do."

"Copy that. Tell us your location and we'll come and get you. How many are there of you?"

"Three..." Locke continued to count.

"Fourty-four give or take." responded Jack. "We're on an island somewhere in the Pacific. We'll be at the beach, you'll see a big signal fire."

"Four...I swear Jack, I'll do it."

"Roger that, Naomi did indeed tell us this, we were just making sure. Sit tight, a rescue boat will be there as soon as possible. Most probably tonight."

The crowd erupted with cheers, except John, who cocked his gun threateningly. "Jack," he warned. "Put it down. This is your last chance."

"Last chance for what?"

And with that John fired, the bullet grazing Jack's right shoulder.

There was a fit of swearing in which Claire covered Aaron's ears, and a tustle between Jack and John.

Finally, Jack ordered Rousseau to tie him up as well.

Everyone started walking back to the beach, Jack cursing and wiping the blood from his injured shoulder.

Ben and John were dragged along by Rousseau, who spat at Ben's feet.

All in all, Claire thought the trip had been pretty stupid. They'd had to walk from the beach, to the Radio Tower, then back to the beach? Though if they'd stayed on the beach they'd most probably have been shot.

Hopefully Charlie and Desmond were back.

They continued to hike, and Claire continued to think the worst.

With Desmond...

He'd been paddling for twenty minutes now, and was about half way there. He still didn't know how he was going to say.

Hell, he was still in shock himself. Tears were still falling, though he'd stopped sobbing. He continued to paddle half-heartedly.

Were the flashesgone? Would fate choose yet another unsuspecting victim?

Desmond hoped not.

With Claire...

They arrived at the beach after twenty minutes of hiking.

Claire scouted the beach for Charlie, Aaron sound asleep in his cradle. Some reason being in familiar surroundings settled him down.

She walked over to Hurley, who was sitting in the sand, looking slightly worried.

"He'll be here." he said, though it seemed like he was comforting himself. "He has to."

They sat for what seemed like forever, when it was in fact merely fifteen minutes.

"He should be back by now." noted Claire nervously.

Jack was inside the medical tent, getting stitched up by Kate, who, from experience was great with a needle, so Claire didn't want to bother him with her petty anxieties.

Instead, she went to Sawyer. "Do you have any information whatsoever about Charlie's whereabouts?" she demanded.

"Well, Mamacita, last time I checked he was at the grocery store, buyin' himself a carton of milk." he teased.

Claire's eyes were full to the brim with tears. Sawyer didn't know how sensitive that subject was. "He's dead, I just know it!" she sobbed, spiralling to the ground.

Sawyer looked panicked. "No! He's not dead, I was just kiddin' he's most likely on the canoe, on his way back."

"'Most likely'?" scoffed Claire through her tears, wiping them away with the back of her hand.

Sawyer knelt to her side in the sand. "Claire," he seemed not used to using her real name. "Charlie wouldn't leave you. Not like this."

"Everybody keeps telling me that," she exploded, shouting in the man's face. "But he's not! He's in trouble and needs my help, I can just feel it!"

"Listen, Claire-look! There they are!" he announced smugly, pointing to the small canoe in the ocean.

Claire's heart gave a jolt, and she ran at top speed to the shore, her feet dipped into the water. "Charlie!" she shouted, advancing into the water by a few more steps.

The canoe was a mere thirteen feet away, still in shallow water. And Claire could see that there was only one person aboard.

"No," she whispered, paling. "No, not again, no. I'm not going to lose someone again."

She raced into the water, splashing toward the boat. People stared at her curiously, wondering what she was up to, but they ought to know people do anything for love.

Her hands gripped the edge of the canoe tightly as she stared up at Desmond's grimacing face.

"Sister," he sighed, and Claire could see tears in his eyes. "Get in. We need to have a talk."

He pulled her into the canoe and the small puddle of water a the bottom grew as she wrung out her sopping wet hair and clothes.

"Desmond," she sniffed as she saw Charlie's body hudled in one corner. "How?" tears leaked from beneath her closed eyelids, which she'd closed in frustration and sadness.

"Mikhail," he knew it would make no sense to her, seeing as she'd never seen him, but he assumed Charlie had told her.

"The patch eyed man?" she asked as she lay her hand gently on Charlie's cheek. "How could you let this happen?!"

Desmond braced himself for whatever was coming. He expected cruel words, punches, slaps, but never expected what she did next.

With a sob Claire turned to Charlie and gave him mouth to mouth, then pumping his heart, performing CPR.

"I tried, sistah. I tried everythin'." he murmured, tugging at his damp hair in agony.

"I don't care! He can't leave me! I won't let him!" she continued, uncaring that everyone was watching her. She was trying to save a life.

And not just any life. The life of a great man, Aaron's father. The man she loved.

Yes, upon seeing Desmond return alone, she knew deep in her heart that she loved Charlie Pace, and would do anything to keep him by her side.

"Sistah," Desmond reached to pull her hands away, but she shoved him aside. If he couldn't do it, she definitely couldn't.

"Leave me alone! I have to do this!"

"He's gone!" roared the Scotsman, but in a moment he was going to find out just how wrong he was.

With one last bruising thump Charlie's eyes flew open and he sputtered, coughing up water.

"Charlie!"

"Oh God, I thought I'd lost you! The man I love!" Claire was so relieved, crying out in happiness, peppering his face with kisses.

Desmond was crying too. Still shaky, pressing his lips against the boy's damp hair, leaving a caring kiss.

He had his best friend back.

"It-it's Chris-" Charlie stuttered, hardly knowing what was going on. "It's Christmas today."

Neither Claire nor Desmond had realized that the canoe had floated to shore, and people were surronding them, hugging each other with joy and relief.

"Wait a minute, it is Christmas!" piped up Bernard, laughing loudly.

Murmurs ran through the crowd. "It's a miracle! Today we get rescued, Charlie lives, it's a Christmas miracle!" said some one.

"How could I have forgotten?" exclaimed some one else.

Claire and Desmond hepled Charlie up, brought him to his tent before the stampede of questions could arise.

One by one, castaways visited him, hugging him and telling him how glad they were he was okay.

Later, when he seemed strong enough, they all went around the large signal fire, waiting for the rescue boat.

"Charlie, I love you." announced Claire, resting her head against his shoulder.

"You do...?"

"Yes, I do. And Aaron does too." she giggled, carefully transferring her baby into his arms. He smiled and made funny faces to the child, making him coo happily.

Desmond spoke up, "I'm glad you're okay, brother." he said. "Claire, I'm sorry."

Claire smiled sympathetically. "Don't worry Desmond, I understand. The important thing is Charlie's safe."

Charlie punched Desmond playfully in the arm, putting his arm around his shoulder and his other one around Claire, who had Aaron back in her arms now.

"Merry Christmas." he said.

Desmond chuckled. "Aye, merry Christmas."

Claire pressed her lips to Charlie's temple softly. "I love you. All I want for Christmas is you."

"Well, you've got me. I love you too."

He pulled away from his friends and pulled his guitar into his lap, basking in the familiar feeling of happiness as his fingers found their places easily.

"So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
Ans so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young

A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
And so this is Christmas
For weak and for strong
For rich and the poor ones
The world is so wrong
And so happy Christmas
For black and for white
For yellow and red ones
Let's stop all the fight
A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
And so this is Christmas
And what have we done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
Ans so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young
A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
War is over over
If you want it
War is over
Now..."

Charlie blushed as everyone clapped. Though his voice was rough, him having swallowed so much water and all, he truly had a talent for it. He hadn't played for attention, the moment was just right.

"So it is Christmas," sang Claire, giggling.

"And what have we done," added Desmond. He wasn't used to being included but found that he was quite content with the couple and their baby.

"Another year over," sang Charlie, beaming widely. "And a new one just begun!"

An hour later...

While everyone was loading into the boats, and Desmond was caught up with Penny, reconciling with her, Charlie asked, having heard about everything that had happened, "Why did the CPR work for you and not Desmond?" he questioned. Claire laughed softly, repeating what Jack had told her. "Your head wasn't tilted back enough. He was blowing air into your stomach." Charlie smiled. "Another thing to add to your list of accomplishments."

And as the castaways were driven away from the island they'd come to know and love, they each said a silent goodbye, knowing things would be much different. And for the first time in years Charlie felt that he had a real family.

Except for John Locke, who joined the Others who remained on the island, and Rousseau and her daughter, they were all on their way home. If that's not a Christmas miracle I don't know what is.

The End.

A/N: So, I know, very cheesy, but you gotta love it! Just kidding. Review please, hope you have a merry Christmas!

xox Sacha