Summary: Sometime after "Confidence Man" before "Raising of Another".
She's staring at the sun, and she can't think straight. She did it for Shannon. She knows that. She pressed her lips against his for the girl who would have suffocated. But that wasn't the question. The question was for whom did she tongue wrestle with him? Who was that quickening and uneven breath for? Who was that extra ten seconds for? And the begging-for-more movement forward?
She sighs and looks over her shoulder towards his tent where he is right now. She knows he felt and noticed it all. She remembers the look on his face. He knew who it was all for and she wishes he'd come out of that tent and tell her. She wonders if Jack could tell her. Or Shannon? Or the damn "jungle of mystery" cause she's been trying for hours, and she can't get an answer out of herself.
She wonders how badly she'd want to do it again knowing he didn't have the medicine. How badly she'd want to let her body share those secrets with him again. If she'd slip those ropes from his wrist had Jack and Sayid not been waiting for her. How close she'd bring her body to his. How she'd respond to his hands on her back or waist.
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. She's still searching for clarity when she looks away from it all: his tent, the beach, the forest, the hidden caves and turns back to the sun.
