Disclaimer: LOST and all its respective characters and memorabilia belong to Jeffrey Lieber, J.J. Abrams, and Damon Lindelof. The elements unique to this fan fiction belong to me. No copyright infringement intended.
S P O I L E R S: S1, S2, S3 CHARACTER DEATHS. LAST WARNING.
Genre(s): Supernatural, Mystery, Abstract Horror, Relationships.
Element(s): AU Continuity, Character Death, "What If?" ... (and something that would spoil the story if I listed it!)
Character(s): All.
Pairing(s): Definite overtones of PB&J, Jun, Shayid. Everything else (Jate vs. Skate vs. Etc.) is up to interpretation, UST style (my favorite!).
Rating: T for Canon Themes
Timeframe: Um… this is where the AU comes in. About ¾ into Season 3—sometime after the episode "One of Us" and before "D.O.C."—but without Juliet and with Locke. There is a reason.

Summary: What's the best thing that can happen after your soul mate dies? Maybe it's the same thing as the worst…

Author's Note: Because I wanted to see this happen in the show—anywhere, really—for so, so, SO LONG. And I finally had the guts to invest sweat and passion in something for public scrutiny. Also, an opportune timeframe recently presented itself…
To make this work, I had to alter some things in LOST concerning canon continuity with where characters are at a given time (see Timeframe).
Other than that? Enjoy!

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R e a n i M a t e
By Lenn R.

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I N T R O – Never Let It Fade Away

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"You really do? Well, alright then! Okay. Ahem."

If he could recall, it went something like…

"Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, never let it fade away." He looked up. Yep, she was nodding. Right on. "Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day…"

Rainy, eh? Pff, right! Standing in the way of her pretty, grinning appreciation was like basking on a beach of massive, gloom-consuming sunlight! Not that he didn't do beach basking regularly, but… yeah! He liked this beachy business better. It was… tickly.

No, really, it tickled.

He scratched his chin.

"Charlie, careful!"

"For love may—oh, right! No problem, I've got him. Snug, see?" He—Charlie—promptly lowered his finger and tapped the baby's head soundly to make a point. "All wrapped up tight and busy catching stars. And aren't they pretty stars tonight, Little Aaron?"

Charlie liked when Little Aaron's mum giggled the way she did right then. He heard it often enough, but not as much as he'd like. Her girlish giggly punctuations between his every other sentence would be ideal, but he'd do with what he could get. In tonight's case, it was every other other other sentence. Well, that was satisfactory for now.
He also liked when she would tilt her head back like she was now. It made her look so care-free, so—

"Charlie!"

"What?" He jumped. He was snuggling Baby Turnip fine, wasn't he? "What is it, C-Claire?"

She poked him. "Do you know anything about constellations?"

Charlie had to admit that he was a bit more caught up in the constellation of Claire's collarbone to her moonlighted nose right then, but, "Uh, yeah. A bit."

He did that a lot these days. Sometimes when he was with Claire, like right then, things that were usually so hot on his skin or so pungent to his taste buds, like superheated sand and undercooked island chicken, just… faded away.

Other things spoke up. Like her eyes.

Her eyes sparkled, maybe reflecting the ocean. Or maybe they reflected some innate, sparking brightness of life. There was so much there—so much ocean crystal and life flare—that it was impossible to tell what engulfed him more, what further pushed stuff like sand and sour chicken from his senses, at the moment. "I bet you don't know…"

She pointed. He looked. She quizzed. He didn't know. She laughed. He laughed. The ocean. Her eyes. The baby…

Oh, that's right. There was a baby, wasn't there?

"Charlie! Mind Aaron, please!"

"Oh, right! Sorry! I mean, I wasn't—" Rather guiltily, he supposed that sometimes Aaron shifted a bit too much towards the Sand And Chicken column of his priorities.

"It's okay, just… I think it's his bedtime anyway, yeah?" Claire scooped Aaron from Charlie, whose arms cooled fast in the young bundle's absence. "Uh, here." She replaced the emptiness with the guitar they'd been planning to catch falling stars with later.

"What, you're going to take him back?" Charlie swayed, his center of gravity suddenly baby-less. "We're half a mile down the beach from home! And I thought you said before that it was going to be a family outing!"

"That was before Aaron learned how to catch falling stars by himself!" Claire smiled ruefully, bouncing the unsettled ball of baby. "And before he started thinking everything but the actual stars were stars…"

Charlie sighed. "Alright, then. Shall we?" He extended his guitar-free arm, motioning towards the softly blinking, distant township.

"What? No!" Claire shook her head. "I can go by myself. Aaron's a little lighter than a guitar, two blankets, and a basket of fruit, I think."

"But what about the Others?" Charlie set down his guitar on said blankets. "Honestly, Claire, so what if they haven't been around? They always seem to pop up when we least expect…"

"It's been two months, Charlie. Sayid scouted high and low, and even Jack—"

"No, okay, you're right! Just hurry. If you're not back in 20 minutes, though, I am personally hounding you."

Charlie watched as his Own Private Starshine made sandy tracks down the beach. "Right. Okay! I'll just… catch a falling star while I'm waiting, then."

And he let his star fade away.

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She never came back.

Alive, that is.

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TO BE C O N T I N U E D … (if you show interest—a.k.a., R E V I E W !)

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A/N2:
Whoa-ho-ho! Didn't expect that, did you? Freaked you out a bit, didn't it? Ahaha! Sorry, I delight in weird twists like that. Anyhow, short chapter to test the water. Want more? I will update at least once a week if interest is shown.

Ideas, suggestions, complaints, ERROR ALERTS (!!!) welcome.

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A L L - R E V I E W E R S - A C K N O W L E D G E D !
(and maybe even rewarded…)