Disclaimer: No own Lost. No sue.
Spoilers: Up to One of Them
A/N: Still mourning for Shannon myself. Sayid's PoV. Read, enjoy, let me know what you think.
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It took eight-hundred fifteen shovels full of sand to make Shannon's grave.
Eight-hundred fifteen strokes to make the narrow hollow in the earth that would hold her for the rest of time.
It took eight-hundred fifteen shovel loads to put her away, wrapped in the blue tarp that will become customary for those who will follow after—though he did not know it at the time.
He knows each grain of sand that clung to his skin, every bit that became trapped beneath his nails and in his hair and lined his lips.
Sayid knows where every stain of blood could be found on his clothing and where every blotch formed on her own.
He knows the shade of pallid blue her lips turned as her blood cooled and the lack luster fog that settled in her half hooded eyes.
Sayid has agonized over every detail surround her last moment, the hitch in her voice as she screamed at him, the stagger in her step as she wheeled around after the initial shot, the warmth of her skin even as she fell into his arms and trembled.
His memories have become a potent mixture of mourning and self-inflicted torture as he thinks again and again of how he could have saved her.
And it is with this knowledge that Sayid rears his fist down on the whimpering man before him, knowing he could have suffered no such lost.
He would remember.
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End
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