A/N This fic centers around Michayla Swanson, an OC I created for my fic "Hidden"...wow, around two and a half years ago. I've long since deserted "Hidden" but I've missed writing Michayla greatly. So I joined the OC Challenge on livejournal, where you have a table of prompts to use for an original character, and I picked Michayla for Lost. Probably most of these are going to be centered around her relationship with Boone, though other characters will make their appearances. (P.S.....if you are intrigued and want to read "Hidden" it's still published on my account here. However, I do not recommend it because it embarasses me. Haha. My writing's gotten better over these past couple years.)
Disclaimer: I do not own Lost. I only created Michayla.
First
Boone finds the redhead sitting on the beach two days after the crash, scribbling in a diary like her life depends on it. She looks up as he approaches, green eyes quizzical. "Hi," she says, closing the journal and setting it aside.
"Hi," Boone responds, sitting down on the sand next to her. "How's your head?"
She blinks, looking surprised, and Boone realizes she probably doesn't remember. "I found you after the crash," he explains helpfully. "You were conscious for all of thirty seconds before you blacked out again."
"Oh, right." She shakes her head. "Sorry. Jack – that's the doctor – he says I might have a concussion, but it's mild and I feel okay. I'm used to hitting my head."
"Good." Boone nods.
The red-haired girl seems to remember her manners. "Thanks," she says. "For getting me out of the way of that engine, after we crashed."
"No problem." Boone holds his hand out to her. "My name's Boone."
She shakes his hand. "Michayla Swanson." Michayla gives him a small smile.
Boone's glad to put a name to her face. He hesitates, wanting to ask her age but not wanting her to get the wrong idea. Boone's always been bad at guessing ages. Michayla's short and has a young face, but she could be anywhere between fifteen and twenty.
He decides just to get it over with. "So what were you doing flying from Sydney to L.A? You look kind of young to go all that way alone."
Michayla's eyes flash, and Boone realizes she's young enough to still be offended when people mistake her for younger than she is. "I'm sixteen, not twelve," she says somewhat indignantly. "I was visiting my grandparents in Australia." Her green eyes narrow as she thinks of a way to get back at him. "How old are you, like eighteen?"
"Twenty-two, actually," Boone says with a laugh.
"Really?" Michayla says cuttingly. "Because you don't act twenty-two. You were running around like an idiot after the plane crashed."
"How would you know?" Boone protests, unsure if she's joking or not. "You were unconscious!"
Michayla laughs. "I was kidding there. But based on your reaction, apparently you were running around like an idiot."
Boone raises his eyebrows but has no response.
"Michayla!" Charlie waves at her from down the beach. "Did you want to help me catch that fish?"
"Yeah!" Michayla shouts back. She pushes herself to her feet and dusts off her jeans. "See ya," she says to Boone, scooping up her diary. And Michayla dashes barefoot down the beach after Charlie, red hair shining in the sun.
