Dance

Pairing: Shannon/Boone

Disclaimer: don't own Lost.


When she was six, Shannon wanted nothing more than to dance. To twirl around gracefully in a tutu. Her father found the best ballet studio in town, and she began taking beginner's lessons there.

When she was eight, her father married Sabrina Carlyle. She wanted to show off everything she had learned in the previous two years, and dance at their wedding. Her father told her she could, but then later told her she couldn't. That Sabrina didn't want a ballerina dancing at her wedding.

Shannon wondered what this strange woman was like. She decided that she would dance for her the first time she met her, the night before the wedding. Then, maybe Sabrina would change her mind, and let her dance at the wedding.

She didn't get a chance to dance. When she first felt Sabrina's cold eyes on her, she knew that she would never dance for her new step-mother. She was instantly afraid of the icily pretty older woman. Her eyes dropped to the boy at Sabrina's side. He was older than her, but she wasn't at all afraid of him. He was beautiful, Sabrina's harsh features melted into a kind, masculine looking face. She would dance for him, and she would marry him, and she would dance at their wedding.

As it turned out, she would never marry him. Her father and Sabrina quickly drilled into her that she was now his sister, and she knew that marrying her brother would be wrong.

But she did dance for him.

Every year after that, whenever she had a ballet recital, he would always be there, clapping for her harder than anyone else.

Every year after that, she outshone everyone else at her ballet recitals, because she needed to dance for him. And if she was dancing for him, then her dancing had to be extra special. Because he was extra special.

She wasn't in love with him. Really, she wasn't. She loved him, but he was her brother. She was supposed to love him. Sure, sometimes she went to sleep whispering his name, but that was just because she liked the name. Boone. It almost had a rhythm to it. She whispered it quietly, using it as a metronome, to help keep her feet in time.

When her high school English teacher mentioned something about a "boon," she looked it up. It meant something helpful. A blessing. She liked that. It fit him.

She danced for Boone, to repay him for all the things he had done for her. He had held her hair back when she made herself throw up, then helped her wash her mouth out with Listerine, all the while begging her never to do it again. He would always try to keep the healthiest foods on the table down by her, and the most unhealthy farther away. He helped her study, and told her what was going on in the world. He was her boon, and she wanted to give him a boon in return.

He abandoned her. He chose to work with Sabrina over her. Over her dancing. Everything she had given him, it hadn't been enough. The dancing hadn't been enough. So she quit, and moved to France.

She never danced again. Dancing was about Boone, and Boone was mean, Boone was bad.

Boone had hurt her, and she would have her revenge. She met a guy in a bar, and he agreed to help her. They faked an abusive relationship, and she called Boone. Just like she'd known he would, he dropped everything to come to her rescue.

It's over a year later now. She's wandering through the streets of Sydney, just after Boone has caught on to her game. She hears a once-familiar tune, and follows the sound. She can see a girl dancing through a window. Dance. Boone. It should be her dancing like that. Should be her. Dancing. For Boone. Boone.

She bends, pulls off her strappy heels, and runs to his hotel room. Just for the night, she can break her strict no-Boone rule.