x x x
"Rabbits need dignity and above all the will to accept their fate."
-Richard Adams, Watership Down
x x x
Boone is consumed with the memory of her thighs, not her face or breasts or —, there are some body parts he can't bring himself to name, she is still his sister, no matter what they did last night. So he settles on her thighs: how they glowed white in the moonlight when she parted them, how the muscles quivered as they wrapped around his waist, and how after, they folded neatly, tucked behind his own, if only for a minute, before she fled the bed to get dressed.
Of course, he had seen them before. Shannon always wore the shortest skirts and the skimpiest bikinis. He had felt their downy softness brush against his legs at the dinner table in the years before she declared war on the practically invisible leg hair. He had watched them stretch and bend to her will on stage, their slenderness deceptively masking their strength. Boone always knew there was a tiny oval shaped mole on the underside of her left thigh. When he was younger, he used to mistake the spot for a piece melted chocolate.
These images overcame him as they waited for their flight. How was he supposed to get through thirteen hours with her pressed to his side, pretending everything was normal? Boone needed to get away from her while he still could, so he left her at the gate, still grumbling about their seats, and mumbled something about buying a book.
He browsed the magazines and picked up the Australian edition of Modern Bride. Top Ten Undiscovered Honeymoon Destinations. Tips for Buying a Diamond. How to Pop the Question. He flipped to the article entitled Seating Etiquette for Blended Families. He would love to know if Miss Emily covered where the step-brother should be seated at his step-sister's wedding if said siblings had once consummated their relationship as man and wife.
The pages blurred in front of him, and before he knew it, the bustle of the airport has vanished, replaced by the silence of the hotel room. He's resting his head on her thigh, her fingers run through his hair. Almost absentmindedly, his thumb brushes against her mole. She shivers so Boone leans over to kiss it and is surprised to find it tastes nothing like chocolate.
"This is a bookstore, Boone, not a library."
He jumps when Shannon appears behind him and rests her chin on his shoulder. He shrugs, trying to shake her and her mental image away. The memory of the two of them fades but the real Shannon lingers longer than necessary. He can feel her heart beat against his shoulder blade; it's racing as quickly as his own and he wonders if it's possible she was affected by last night as much as he was. Then she gives a familiar sigh of impatience and tosses a stack of magazines on top of his own.
"Get these for me," she says and is gone.
Boone takes the magazines up to the cash. Despite hearing the boarding announcement for their flight, he steps out of line when he sees a display of paperbacks with a familiar cover. Watership Down. Over the course of a month, his grade five teacher Mr. Dodge had read the book out loud to the class. He can't remember exactly what it's about, something to do with rabbits and their struggle to adapt when they're forced to leave home.
The rabbit on the cover has a funny look on his face. Boone can't decide if the animal's expression is wise or naïve but he knows it's not judgemental. He impulsively includes it with his purchases, knowing it's doubtful any book will distract him, probably nothing short of a plane crash could, but it reminds him of a time before he knew Shannon existed.
x x x
Shannon stomps into Sawyer's tent and catches him half dressed, but that doesn't dissuade her from her mission. "What the hell is this?"
"Good morning to you too, Sunshine." Sawyer fastens his jeans. "To what do I owe the pleasure—the Iraqi can't scratch all your itches?"
"You think some book is gonna make it all better?" She hurls the copy of Watership Down that she found tucked under her pillow and it hits him hard in the stomach.
"Hey!"
"I don't want it."
Sawyer bends down to retrieve the book. He tenderly wipes the sand off and places it on top of his suitcase. "Well, there's no exchanges or refunds. That's all I've got to offer, sweetheart."
"You're an asshole."
"If you're looking to pick a fight, go someplace else. It's not my fault your dumb brother got himself killed." He turns his back to her and rummages through a pile of clothes for a clean shirt.
Shannon knows it's not his fault and is even aware he donated his booze stash for Boone's operation but it's easy to stand here yelling at Sawyer. Up until now, he was the only one not looking at her with great sadness and pity but his gesture with the book speaks otherwise. Plus she doesn't need anything else to remind her of Boone, not when she can still feel his broken body cradled in her arms, so recognizable, despite the blood.
Her arms ache from the phantom weight and her heart is bursting with so much left unsaid. She couldn't have done anything to save him but she wishes she had got there in time to say good-bye, so his last memory would have been of her being there for him, rather than always the other way around.
Shannon turns to go but stops when she realizes hot tears are sliding down her cheeks. Although she's embarrassed to cry in front of Sawyer it's better than crying in front of everyone. She grasps the edge of his tent flap in her fist for support and leans her head against the tarp.
"Aw, crap. I'm not reading out loud to you too."
She sniffs. "What?"
"Nothing."
"I really loved him, you know."
This admission comes in between sobs. She can't believe she's telling Sawyer this when she couldn't say the same words to Boone or admit this to Sayid or even herself. She doesn't know if she loved Boone the same way he loved her but what haunts her now is the times she led him on, not the one time she gave in to his desires.
"I figured that, otherwise why else would the two of you put up with each other."
"I never told him."
Sawyer rubs his forehead and sighs, then picks up the book and presses it into her hand. "Take it. You'll like it, it's about bunnies. Don't read it just yet, it has a happy ending but it's kinda of sad along the way."
She takes the book. The bunny on the cover stares back at her wistfully and after a moment the tears stop. She can't imagine what Boone, or Sawyer for that matter, was doing with a book about rabbits but maybe reading this will give her some insight into her brother. "Thanks."
x x x
Sawyer's shocked to find the book lying on his blanket when he returns from the hatch. Had Shannon left it for him weeks ago, some talisman, a wish for a safe journey on the raft or had Sayid guessed its significance and returned it to him yesterday after her funeral?
He clutches his shoulder and sits down on his bedroll with a grunt. He holds the book in his good hand. On the cover, the rabbit watches him with soft brown eyes that usually make him feel at peace. Today, however, the rabbit looks skittish.
Despite what he tells everyone, Sawyer knows the book really has nothing to do with bunnies and all to do with humans and their propensity for fear and destruction. It's also about sacrifice, risking it all to preserve family and community and home and having the courage to fight for what you believe in. If he thought Jack had the patience for metaphors, he would loan it to him next.
Shannon probably never got around to reading it, he realizes, when he opens the book to find the corner turned down on the last page he marked. The first line of page one hundred and eight reads: Rabbits need dignity and above all the will to accept their fate.
Was it fate that left the boy and his sister buried six feet under? Locke certainly thought so. Sawyer was less sure about fate. They couldn't all just be running around the jungle acting out predestined parts. If so, the plot was badly written and so were most of the characters. But the thing about dignity struck true. From what he heard, Boone had accepted his fate with dignity, so he imagined Shannon followed suit. Sawyer wondered if he could do the same when his time came
x x x
