They were standing on the edge of the jungle staring in amazement out across the water. Shannon's right hand fumbled for his left and he grasped it. "Boone?"
He shook his head and breathed a little laugh. "I…I guess we're going home." He turned to look at her, as she met his eyes.
Anyone looking at them would have seen two slightly scruffy, decidedly underweight young people, the boy with a baby in a makeshift sling hanging across his chest, his right hand gripping a walking stick, a large hunting knife in a sheath stuck in the front of his belt, the blonde girl to his left standing slightly behind him. They both looked far too frail to have successfully survived a year on the island. People would have been shocked to learn that the boy was actually the second best hunter in the group. For someone who'd previously been used to wielding nothing more dangerous than a Mont Blanc, he could hunt, kill, gut and skin a wild boar, which usually outweighed him by a good fifteen pounds, with amazing skill. Their slightness was misleading as well; they were both tough, muscular, the young mans' arms, exposed in the sleeveless tee he wore, well defined.
Jack had warned them repeatedly about Boone carrying Andrew, he'd patiently explained that if there was any kind of attack, Boone was going to be their first line of defense, and he needed to be free of any encumbrances. However much sense it made to them, and they both acknowledged that it did, invariably he was the one who picked up the child. Of course, he always left the baby in Shannon's care when he went off to hunt, but when they were together it was second nature to him. He'd been the boy's primary care giver since day one, Shannon's almost dying from the after effects of his birth preventing her from having a hand in caring for him early on, so the pattern had developed.
Their eyes moved from the ocean to the beach. There seemed to be two schools of camp with respect to the rest of the thirty-five remaining survivors' reaction to the sight of the cruise ship heading towards them. Half were standing in stunned silence, like them, the rest screaming, hollering and jumping up and down.
When Charlie had run into the caves earlier to tell those not already on the beach of the sighting, they'd all stared at him like he'd finally given in to the lure of the heroin stuffed religious statues. It had taken him several minutes of persuasion, and the arrival of Sullivan to confirm his story, before they'd all hurried down to the beach.
As they watched, the cruise ship seemed to come to a stop; then dispatched a motor launch to head the rest of the way to shore.
They crossed the beach as Jack and Sayid went forward to talk to the men on the boat. Boone pulled her close as he listened to Jack explain who they were, and how they'd come to be there. The crewmembers seemed incredulous, but relayed his information through their radio to the ship. Jack leaned in, listening to what the men were saying before turning to the remnants of flight 815, all of whom had gathered around.
"They're going to give us an hour to get our stuff together, then they're going to start ferrying us out to the ship. I need everyone ready to go, you all got that?" Jack surveyed all of them, getting nods of affirmation in response.
'Boone?' Shannon furrowed her brow, seeming near tears, confusion in her eyes.
'Shan, you need to go to the caves and get our stuff,' he was equally stunned, but pulled her to face him, "okay?" He looked in her eyes, hoping for understanding; it wasn't like her not to roll with a situation.
"But…what…I don't…" She was glancing around wildly; this was all happening way too fast for her to process.
'Yeah, Shan, I know it's happening fast,' he acknowledged, 'but you need to get it together. I'll only hold us back, you need to get to the caves without me, get our stuff, and come right back.' He shook her gently, "You can do this." He pulled the knife out of his belt and held it out to her. He glanced around, "Go with Michael, okay?" She took the knife and nodded.
She suddenly seemed to regain herself, "Of course, I can do this, what am I, incapable of packing a couple of bags on my own?" She said it more to herself than to him, though.
Not now, he thought, not wanting to get in an argument with her. "Michael!" he shouted, turning away from her.
"Yeah, man?" he stopped at Boone's call.
"Can you please take Shannon with you?" he pushed her in Michael's direction.
She turned back around and kissed him, giving him a brief reassuring smile, before running after Michael.
Boone moved back a distance from the boat and lowered himself slowly to the sand, sitting with his right leg stretched out in front of him. He pulled a bottle of water out of his bag and took a long swig and then held the bottle to the baby's lips, dribbling in a few drops. Andrew drank, waving his arms at the bottle as it caught the sun and sparkled. Boone twirled it in front of him for a while in play, before the baby lost interest. He put the bottle back in his bag then glanced around to see if any of the beach dwellers were watching him, thankfully noting that they all appeared preoccupied with their packing, completely ignoring his presence. He reached down and pulled his right pant leg up. The bruise was huge, the skin broken in a couple of places; he closed his eyes briefly, cursing himself for his stubborn idiocy. The leg had already been throbbing badly, even before he'd left to go hunting that morning. He looked up at the cloudy sky and cursed the rainy weather that threatened. He'd been too proud to take a walking stick, choosing instead to ignore the pain and just get on with the job. He'd been in the middle of the jungle and had gone to put his full weight on the leg, when it had buckled unexpectedly and he'd fallen against a rock. Shannon was going to kill him for this, first acting all concerned, then berating him for his stupidity. He reached down and pressed his fingers against the spot, hissing in pain. He quickly pulled the leg of his jeans back down, then looked around wondering if he could be of any help. He shrugged, realizing that in his present condition he'd only be in peoples' way.
He sat quietly and watched the flurry of activity going on around him. He sensed a presence behind him, just before the hand fell on his shoulder.
"John," Boone acknowledged, as he turned.
"I just came to say goodbye," Locke squatted beside him.
"I figured." He allowed. He never expected that Locke would leave his precious island. He loved the place like a man might love his mistress, all tempestuous and forbidden.
"It was an honour knowing you." Locke seemed sincere.
Boone didn't know what to say, "I learned a lot from you." It was the best he could offer.
John sidestepped the fact that he hadn't returned the sentiment and gestured with his knife towards Boones' leg. "It hurts today?"
"Yeah, weather, you know," he gestured at the thunder clouds looming on the horizon.
"Yeah, I know." Locke paused. "I'm sorry, I never meant for you to get hurt."
"John, don't. Let it go. I know I have, at least the whole blaming you part…the actual dying, not so much." Boone breathed a small laugh. "You'll be okay?"
"What do you think?" John grinned at him.
"I think I'm an idiot for even asking the question." Boone regarded him solemnly.
"That's the last thing you are, son, an idiot." Locke patted his shoulder.
Boone glanced towards the path to the caves. "Shannon's almost back."
"Then I guess that's my cue to leave. Your sister certainly doesn't care if I live or die, or wants to say goodbye."
Boone shrugged, Shannon's opinion's were her own, she'd never hidden them, and he'd never tried to change them. She still blamed Locke for the Beechcraft incident.
"Be well." Boone wished him, as the other man stood and made his way across the beach. Boone watched as Locke disappeared into the jungle.
He levered himself back up to his feet as Shannon emerged from the tree line with Sun and Jin. Good girl, he acknowledged, relieved that she hadn't headed back to the beach on her own. After Kate's body had been found two weeks ago, broken and bloody, not more than half a mile from camp, they'd all stepped up their security measures.
She crossed the sand towards him, one backpack slung between her shoulders, the other hanging from her left hand, the knife protruding from a side pocket, within easy reach.
'Locke?' She asked reaching him, sensing that the man had been there.
He nodded his head towards the jungle. 'Gone.'
'Good riddance,' she thought, uncharitably. He just shook his head at her, but couldn't really say anything, after all, her animosity had its' basis in her love for him. He headed for the boat, Shannon following.
They were finishing loading the first group, the boat large enough for fully half of their number. Jack had left the manifest with Sayid, who was checking off the names as the people boarded.
Sayid turned as they approached, "Boone, can you give this to Jack when he returns?" He held out the manifest to him. "He wanted me to go with the initial group in the event he did not return in time to go with the first boat." As Jacks' second, Sayid was the logical choice to accompany the first wave in Jack's stead, someone needed to act as spokesperson.
Boone took the paper from him as he turned to climb into the boat. They hung back, as the boat was pushed off from shore.
The remaining survivors gathered slowly, Jack finally emerging from the path to the cave, the last to return. Boone handed him the manifest, as the boat neared shore again. Jack ticked off the names as people clambered aboard, finally just the three of them, and Andrew, remained on the sand. Jack looked around scanning the area, then turned to the pilot of the boat. "That's everyone except…"
Boone caught his eye and shook his head slightly.
He acknowledged Boones' gesture by raising his eyebrows and nodding. "That's everyone." Jack folded the manifest and stuck it in his bag. "You guys ready to blow this pop stand?" He asked them. Boone made a face as his attempt at humour fell a little flat.
Shannon took one last look around before, almost wistfully, nodding yes.
There was a bit of a disagreement as one of the ships' crew members tried to prevent Boone from bringing the walking stick, but Shannon just pushed in front of him and stared the man down as Boone awkwardly climbed in the boat, grasping the walking stick securely in his left hand.
The boat pushed out from shore, and, as they headed for the ship, Boone wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She leaned in to him, sliding her hand around his waist and hooking her thumb through one of his belt loops, as they both stared back at the place that had been their home for the last year.