Disclaimer: Lost is still not mine. Otherwise Daniel Dae Kim would have been gift wrapped under my Christmas tree. Just sayin. Also don't own Happy Days.

A/N: Just for clarification, Miles is referred to as both Miles Straume and Miles Chang. People who know him in sideways and haven't had a revelation know him as Pierre's son, therefore last name Chang. Straume was his real life last name.

Chapter 1

December 20

"Where are you going?" Naomi called over her shoulder. His reflection in the television screen had skewed her view of the Happy Days rerun she was watching. Waiting for his answer, she ate another scoop of chocolate brownie ice cream. Therein lay the beauty of death- calories didn't count. That, and being stuck for all eternity with the love of her life.

She did love Miles Straume. Though you'd have to beat her to get her to admit it.

"Taking Dan out for drinks."

"Does Charlotte play into this at all?"

He grinned, taking a seat next to her as he put on his dress shoes. "Absolutely. I'm gonna get them drunk and convince them that hooking up is a great idea-"

"It's a terrible idea," she interjected, rolling her eyes. She'd spent even less time with the two lovebirds, due to her untimely death, but apparently she knew them better than Miles.

"No, no, hear me out. I'll get Dan drunk, then bring him to the museum. We'll convince Charlotte to come out with us. They'll get to know each other, blah, blah, then BOOM. Everyone's enlightened, and moving on."

She shook her head. "Terrible, terrible idea."

He scoffed. "Watch and learn, 'Mi. Watch and learn."

Slipping his wallet in his pocket, he headed out the door, leaving Naomi to contemplate life in the next world without her oblivious, socially inept boyfriend.

OOO

"You've reached Theresa Spencer. I'm not available to take your call. Please leave a message after the tone." Answering machine. What a surprise. Not.

Might as well leave a message. Again. Silently, Daniel Widmore wondered when it ceased qualifying as pathetic desperation to get her back, and started qualifying as stalking.

At the other end of the line, the beep sounded, granting him permission to speak. He paused momentarily, wondering if he was actually going to do this. If he really had the balls to leave his- what? fifth, sixth, eighty-ninth?- message on her answering machine.

Yes, yes he was.

"Theresa? Theresa, it's Dan-" He heard a click on the other end of the line.

He couldn't help it- he leaped off his piano bench, a feeling of elation and victory rushing over him. For the first time in the week since Theresa had unceremoniously dumped him, she'd actually picked up the phone. Finally, she was done ignoring him! Finally, she'd come to her senses, and realized that she didn't want to date a rock god. Finally, she'd realized that a classical pianist was enough. She was going to beg him to take her back, he could just feel it.

"Daniel?"

"Theresa... um..."

Now, in the moment, words escaped him. What the hell had he wanted to say?

"Daniel this needs to stop. Now. I thought you'd get the hint when I didn't pick up, but clearly you didn't. We're over. Done. I still care for you, but you're not what I want. I need adventure, a little unpredictability. And you're well... you're not boring. We just stagnated. And Liam gives me what I need."

It hurt, hearing those words. "Theresa, I'm sorry, just give me a cha-"

She sighed loudly, interrupting him. "Dan, just stop apologizing. I told you, this isn't your fault. It's mine. And I don't think my being in town is helping you to move on."

"Wh... what do you mean?" he managed to stutter out.

"Dan. Can I be blunt? In the last week, you've called me forty-two times. You really need to let go of us. I'm leaving LA, at least for a little while. Liam asked me to join him on the Driveshaft world tour, and I agreed."

The words hit him hard. Not as hard as he expected them too, but still like a punch to the gut. How was it possible that she moved on from their four year relationship so quickly? Didn't it mean anything?

The phone beeped at him, making him jump in surprise. Glancing down at the screen, he saw his call waiting flashing. Miles. Half grateful and half full of dread, he turned his attention back to the phone, where Theresa was still talking.

"Dan, are you still there?"

"No, I'm here. I hope you're happy with him, Theresa, I really do." He wanted out of this conversation, before the two pieces of his broken heart were further smashed into oblivion. It was done. Over. He just had to grow up and accept it.

"Dan-"

Without a goodbye, he hit the pound key on his phone, switching over to the other line. "Hey Miles."

"Hey there Danny Boy. Tried your apartment, but clearly you're not there. Do not tell me you're at the studio banging out more of that emo crap you've been so fond of lately."

Dan felt his cheeks turn red. Caught in the act. That was exactly what he'd been doing before he gave into the urge to call her. Not that he had to say it aloud. Miles, his unlikely best friend since he was enrolled in his private elementary school, could read his mind.

"Christ, Romeo. Again? Dude you're killing me. Listen. Don't move. I'm coming to get you, and we're going out on the town, alright?" Dan made a move to protest. "No. No arguments. You need to get over that heartless bitch, and I know just the way to do it."

OOO

Something was off.

Maybe she was sleep deprived- she'd been pulling sixteen hour days at the museum lately- but as she wandered through the paleontology exhibit, Charlotte Lewis knew something was amiss. Eight PM, and the museum was entirely still, save for herself and Frank Lapidus, the night guard. Not that she could chat with him if she wanted to. He was stationed at the opposite end of the building, in the tiny room behind the ticket counter, where the security TVs were stored. And knowing good old Frank, at this point, he'd probably had a night cap or two, and was sound asleep.

Thank God Pierre had invested in a good alarm system. Otherwise, she'd be the only defense the museum had against intruders in the eary hours of the morning.

Trailing slowly through the exhibits, the only sound resonating through the halls that of her high heels against the marble tile work, she gazed at the fossil displays. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But honestly, her mind wasn't completely set on the task at hand.

Wrapping her cardigan around her as the air conditioning system switched on, she moved out of the dinosaur exhibit, into the displays on early man. Gazing at the fossils had her contemplating her next career move and thinking of the life she'd once known. Camping in the Egyptian desert, swimming in the Sumatran rain forest, hiking the Andes mountains- roughing it with the good old boys in search of the latest archaeological find. It was a bloody amazing existence, the one she'd dreamed of as a little girl. Yet she'd given it all up, at least for a time.

As she'd edged toward thirty, she found herself wanting more. A husband, a passle of kids. Not that she wanted to leave behind her career. No, with the right man, in just the right set of circumstances, Charlotte was convinced she could reconcile a life on the move with a family. Adventures were all well and good, but having someone to share the experience with... it would complete the dream.

But meeting men on the road was, to be frank, a failure. The competitive nature of archaeology, trying to beat each other to the newest find, made a relationship almost impossible. So she'd taken a break from active field work, and took a position at the Los Angeles Museum of Natural History, heading up the Asian and Oceania antiquities exhibits. For three years she'd been satisfied with a job she loved, a fantastic boss in Pierre Chang, and a friend in his son Miles. She played the field, dated a variety of men, but none of them quite fulfilled the requirements as the future husband of Charlotte Lewis.

The familiar inkling was filling her again, the desire to hunt for new treasures, to get her name back in the papers and the journals, to contribute to the field again. Yet she hadn't found what she was looking for, and the sinking feeling in her stomach over the last few weeks had made her fell as if, perhaps, the career she loved and the family she wanted couldn't be reconciled.

It's not bloody fair, she fumed over the injustice of it all. Not bloody fair at-

Bow ties?

It was true. her eyes had not deceived her. Somehow, the Neanderthals in the glass cases had been equipped with spears, loin clothes, and tasteful red satin bow ties. And there was not a doubt in her mind as to who was the culprit.

"CHANG!"

An almost girlish giggle resounded as her friend stepped out from behind another case. Miles's face was flushed, and he sauntered more than walked over to her. Charlotte instantly knew he had more than a few drinks in him. He was followed by a second man who seemed almost embarrassed to be there with him. Unconventionally handsome with a quirky sense of fashion, he seemed harmless enough.

"Heyyyyyyyyy Red! Knew I'd find you here."

She snorted, though her annoyance quickly gave way to a smirk as she watched Miles sway back and forth, trying to maintain balance. "I'm so glad your stalking me, Miles."

"You make it fairly easy. Apartment. Work. Work. Apartment. Yup, real hard. Have no fear, though. We came by to rescue you."

"Rescue me? Or make my life even more difficult? I have to fix that display tonight before I leave, thanks to you. I should have your father confiscate your keys to this building."

The other man, brunette and silent up until this point, blushed. "We... we could help you fix it."

Miles rolled his eyes. "Aw c'mon Dan. Charlotte knows it was just for fun." He turned back to her. "Dan just went through a rough breakup. Bitch of an ex-girlfriend ran off with the lead singer of Drive Shaft. I'm trying to end the pity party. And seeing as how you're always up to your elbows in work here, and are in desperate need of a social life yourself, I figured we'd bring you along with us."

As each consecutive word left Miles's mouth, Charlotte saw Dan's face blush brighter and brighter red in embarrassment. It was really sweet, in a way. She smiled at him. "I'm sorry to hear about your girlfriend, Dan. Breakups are rough."

"Not that she'd know. Charlotte's been looking for a stable relationship for years now. Pretty much since she came to LA."

She felt her face flame, probably even brighter than the tomato red that was currently gracing Daniel's face. "I'm sorry, did you say you were going out drinking, or that you were already drunk?"

"I'm pretty sure he had a few before we met up tonight," Dan said quickly. "He brought a bottle of tequila to my studio to pregame, and we stopped at happy hour before he suggested we come and find you. Honestly, he might be more sober than drunk right now. I don't think he knows what he's saying."

The laugh escaped her, despite her embarrassment at a total stranger knowing her sad LA dating history. "Miles is a shameful lightweight."

"Lies!" Miles shouted, a look of mock astonishment on his fce.

"We should probably call a cab for him. Naomi's going to kill his sorry arse."

"Nah, it's alright," Dan said, waving his hand. "We've already caused enough problems for you tonight. I'll make sure he gets home. If you like, I can come back and help fix the display."

"Awww leave it! It looks good! Very Christmasy. Festive!" Miles protested. He was having trouble walking now.

"I think I'm going to take Miles's Martha Stewart impersonation as our cue to leave." Dan smiled sweetly at her before hauling Miles up on his shoulder. For a lean guy, he was surprisingly strong. Charlotte knew from experience that drunk Miles was all dead weight. "You'll be alright getting him to a cab?"

"Absolutely." He paused briefly, looking at her with faint recognition. "Have we met before, Charlotte?"

His words took her by surprise, but as she studied his face carefully, she had to agree that he did look familiar. "Yes... yes I believe so. Briefly, at the museum benefit. You were playing with-"

"Driveshaft," he completed her sentence, a look of sadness crossing his face. "Backstage, right before we went on. The bassist was passed out on the couch. Who would have thought... ah well, live and learn right? It was nice meeting you again Charlotte."

"You too, Dan," she replied, watching as he carried Miles towards the front door. She moved to the window to make sure Dan was able to get a taxi. Once they were gone, she headed back to the Neanderthals.

Opening the display case, she heard footsteps behind her. "Still here, Char?" Frank asked, arms crossed is mock dismay.

"Where else?" she replied.

"Oooh, bow ties. Nice touche. Very classy. Who knew the Neanderthals were such fashionistas." Laughing loudly, she removed one of the bow ties and tossed it out to Frank.

"Since you like it so much..."

"Don't mind if I do," Frank said, attaching the bow tie around his neck. "Now finish up, and get the hell out of here Charlotte. You don't get out nearly as much as you should."

"I will, don't you worry," she promised sincerely. Just as soon as I finish these guys. And read that journal article... and finish editing those files...

Yeah, it was definitely time to get back in the field.

Thank you all for your wonderful response to the introduction! Special thanks to all those who reviewed: Dr. Giggles (so glad you like your story!), Stefy Abbott, LittleMissBones, MyLuckyWhistle, Unidentified Pineapples, Elyad, Golden-Black Dragon, and pani zagloba. You're all fabulous! Hope everyone had a very happy holiday! Reviews are greatly appreciated!