Disclaimer: I do not own Lost, and I'm not making money off of this story.
A/N: Originally finished in October, 2006 (whoa, this one's old). Ah, I was such a huge Boone fan. That's where this little ficlet comes in. Read-and-review-pretty-please...
Rated K+ for...um...medical conditions?
Differences
Jack plodded up the beach, completing his rounds. The sun was rising—it was the first morning after the disaster. While walking, he took a mental inventory on his current patients. The pregnant girl was fine, her contractions passed. The black woman whom he'd administered CPR to had recovered physically . . .though he couldn't be so sure emotionally. The man with the mangled leg would live, but his wound would need to be kept clean and free of infection. Jack made a mental note to check on that later. And the man with the shrapnel—Jack grimaced. If help didn't arrive on the island soon, he would have to remove the loathsome hunk of metal himself.
There had been others, of course. For the past half hour Jack had been giving medical advice to whoever needed it, and helping out where he could, with what he had.
To his left, he could see people of all shapes, sizes, and nationalities huddled in little groups. None of them looked like they needed his assistance, so he turned to his right. More people, some sitting, some walking, and others just holding hands. One of them caught his eye—the lifeguard who'd been so anxious to help him earlier. For some reason, Jack found himself walking over and sitting down next to him.
"You all right?" he asked.
No reply came. A foamy wave climbed upwards over the sand, depositing shells at their feet before retreating to the sea. Jack was starting to think that he wouldn't get an answer, when the boy spoke.
"You know what the difference is between you and me?" he asked abruptly. Without waiting for a response, he continued. "You help people. I just make things worse." He snatched up a handful of sand and flung it angrily into the surf.
Jack was taken aback by this sudden candor. He wasn't sure how to reply, so he said nothing. The silence grew between them, as each sat enveloped in his own thoughts. And suddenly Jack knew what to say.
"You know what the difference is between you and all the people on this beach?" He paused, watching the lifeguard's eyebrows rise in curiosity. "All these people—" Jack indicated the men, women, and children milling aimlessly around them. "—they wait for help to come to them." He grinned at the teenager, whose startlingly blue eyes were now on him. "You get out there and help," he finished.
The adolescent blinked. Apparently, he hadn't thought of this. Jack pushed himself to his feet—duty was calling him, after all.
"See you around," he said. And he left.
But not before he saw Boone smile.
~The End~