Disclaimer: These characters are property of J.J. Abrams, et al. I make no money here, so don't sue me.
Rating: T, for some sexual references.
Note: Just a story-like slice of one afternoon in the lives of our ensemble, told in loosely-connected drabbles (in the strictest sense—100 words apiece—which was hard for me because I tend to ramble uncontrollably). There were supposed to be 14 in honor of the number of (original) characters, but I lost count in the middle, so there's one extra. Set early season one, around the time of Charlie's detox.
I'd appreciate feedback as far as how well this all works together. It's a little out of the ordinary for me.
Shelter
1
When the rain came, Boone was in the water. He had foolishly hoped to lure Shannon in after him with the sight of his abs, with his shorts hung precariously low at his waist. The rain fell down, and he just snorted. He suddenly realized he was in a place where he could be anything he wanted, and he was still chasing something he wasn't even sure he actually desired any more.
So he started to look across the waves, across the hard rain on the sand, hopeful. Surely he had more going for him than a flat, tan stomach.
2
Claire had a hard time getting off the ground. She uttered a curse, and Shannon laughed. It was cute, really. Ordinarily, Shannon would have run for cover, but she found any cover on the island to be dubious at best. So she didn't mind getting wet, and she didn't mind pulling Claire to her feet, guiding her uneven steps across the sand.
What she didn't notice, not even when they were thoroughly soaked but standing under Shannon and Boone's makeshift tent, was Claire's eyes moving between one man coming out of the ocean and another man breaking through the trees.
3
Charlie felt like hell. The storm had taken some of the cloying humidity out of the air, and he knew he should be glad for the cleansing rain. But it didn't help. There was only one thing that might have, and it was gone.
Jack was afraid for him, and he was tired of people being afraid for him. He wasn't going to die, although that might be much better. He might be in such overwhelming pain that he could punish himself enough. It would hurt; it did hurt. But maybe after it was over, he'd feel a little relief.
4
Happily wet, Michael ruffled his hands through Walt's hair. The island was a little like summer camp. You ate, slept, and played when you wanted to, and you didn't worry about normal methods of hygiene and decorum. Unless you were a dictatorial Korean.
Sun had her arms crossed over her chest, over her white t-shirt, when she passed. He thought for a moment: what would be worse for her? Getting to her husband looking immodest or arriving in a shirt given to her by another man? He resisted the urge to toss her the clean blue shirt at his feet.
5
"Hey!" the large man yelled. He motioned for her to come out of the rain.
Sun shook her head as she ducked into his tent.
He pointed at the sky. "It's not safe."
She wanted to ask him just why he thought a tarp was protection from howling wind, but she couldn't. So she sat down beside him.
Thunder shook the air, and waves pounded the beach. She drew her legs up to her chest.
He smiled. "I don't like it either." She felt she would have understood him even if she didn't speak English.
Lightning flashed over the water.
6
Jin sat on a rock beside the ocean, and he didn't want to leave. The rain felt nice—cool, hard. He sometimes didn't feel alive anymore. Hate. That was all. Hate and anger. He shouldn't blame her for what he had become, but somewhere deep down he did. So he hated everything.
He wanted to be better; he tried to be nice. He caught fish. He carried things to the caves. He waited for the foolish boy with the bratty sister to come out of the water, and he wondered if maybe there was some hate in that one too.
7
Shannon watched the rain slap the sand. No tanning for today. Not that there's anybody here to impress. Not the dork. Not the asshole. Maybe the doctor, but he's too serious. Probably a bad lay. Hot, but probably not my speed.
Boone finally got spooked by the lightning and came dripping into the space they hated sharing. Not that the dripping made anything much worse. Lightning struck again; Claire took a deep breath. Then Boone was beside her, still wet, threading a hand into hers.
"You get lost?" he asked her with a grin, eyeing Shannon with a curious expression.
8
Sawyer was conflicted about rain. It depended on whether it fit his mood. Today, he was glad for it. It was cruel and relentless, like he hoped to be. It worked its way into everything.
Sometimes, though, it worked into his brain. He'd shudder at the sound of the thunder, feeling something rattle him apart. Sometimes a storm made him want to join its howl and curse the life he'd been given and the life he made.
Luckily, today was not one of those days. Today he watched them scream and run across the beach. He laughed, something like happy.
9
Sayid tossed an errant ball to Walt as he jogged past. He was on his way to his shelter, annoyed at the way the rain stung his back and head. Jumping as thunder cracked the atmosphere, he heard a chuckle behind him.
Locke, impervious to the storm, handed him a package. "Keep it dry."
"What is it?"
"Don't know. Something electronic, for parts."
Then Locke strolled away from him, his eyes drifting for a moment to the water before he resolved himself of something and went into the tree line.
"I wish I could trust you," Sayid said to himself.
10
Jack had been nearly to the beach when the rain started. After he found Charlie to give him a Zoloft he'd discovered in an aspirin bottle, the rain went from refreshing to pelting. So he took a deep breath and darted unhappily into the closest shelter.
Sawyer just stared at him; he sat down without a word.
Jack watched the black traverse the sky. It would be a quick storm, as always. Then Kate trotted by, her green shirt plastered to her torso in a way that made him let out a long breath.
Beside him, Sawyer grunted in agreement.
11
Sun kept searching for Jin, but she couldn't see him. The big man pointed to a speck coming in from the rock outcropping.
She stood to go, but then she heard the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up; it was coming from the woods.
The short one with the accent was only dry heaving when she reached him. She rubbed his back and murmured to him, only vaguely wondering if he was contagious. Then she felt a hand on her own back.
The scary man they called Locke just pointed and said, "Jack," taking her place behind the sick boy.
12
Kate wasn't trying to dodge the rain, but Sayid invited her in.
His shelter was cozy and somehow dry. He gave her a spare shirt to dry her face and arms on. It smelled earthy, like him.
He sat beside her; she leaned her head on his shoulder.
"It's beautiful," she said.
"Yes."
Then she realized he was looking at her. She had no idea why he kissed her, or why he moved behind her and slipped a warm hand under her wet shirt. But he was kind and smart and he respected her. And he had really wonderful hands.
13
Jin watched his wife dart all over the beach. What was she doing? He caught her finally, demanding an explanation. But she had found some way to feel useful, and she didn't care for his attitude or that everyone could see the dark of her hard nipples showing through her shirt and bra.
Scowling, he took off his own shirt and gave it to her. She was so angry, but she smiled to see his bare chest. He suddenly wanted her badly, seeing her scurry away in his ill-fitting shirt but remembering the softness and brightness of the skin underneath.
14
Jack smelled the cool air and watched the dark clouds skulk over the horizon. The rain had almost stopped when Sun peered in cautiously, then she entered and pulled Jack by the arm. He knew that look: someone needed help. Someone wanted him to play leader-doctor-saint.
Sawyer waved sarcastically, saying, "Nice talking with you."
When he passed Kate, he tried hard not to stare at her. But there was a definite flush on her cheeks, and he met her eyes and he recognized that flush for what it was.
At least he could content himself that it hadn't been Sawyer.
15
Boone helped Claire back to her things, now soggy. She was looking for Charlie, but she couldn't help smiling at the way Boone still held her hand firmly, as if she might break.
"I'm pregnant; I'm not made of glass."
"Sorry."
"But you're very sweet."
"Tell that to Shannon," he muttered.
"You know, she can be sweet too."
He laughed. "Only when the mood strikes her."
Her moods were sudden and extreme, like the rain. Or like the way the sun was struggling through the clouds like the day was dawning again. New day, he said to himself. New world.