Symptom Recital
Disclaimer: Lost and it's characters belong to J.J Abrams and ABC
Summary: A look at the women everyone loves to hate.
Author's Note: Inspired by Dorothy Parker's poem Symptom Recital, a poet whose wit and wisdom reminds me of Shannon. Some scenes are slightly reworked to fit with this fiction.
I do not like my state of mind;
I'm bitter, querulous, unkind.
- Symptom Recital-
Shannon gripped the sides of her seat to maintain her balance, her lacquered pink nails chipping slightly on the plastic arm hold. She sighed, irritated, as her elbow bumped into the stomach of a sweaty man beside her. She scowled and pulled back her elbow as the man nodded at her before belching loudly.
Shannon averted her eyes, willing the man not to speak to her. The last thing she wanted was small talk. She shouldn't have been here; she didn't belong in the business class. She was First class. She revolved her entire life around being First class.
Closing her eyes, Shannon inhaled sharply. She hated closed-in spaces, especially when that space was obstructed by sweaty men.
The man belched again, nauseated by the smell, Shannon turned, ready to snap. But before she could say a word, the plane gave a slight lurch. Shannon's stomach dropped and immediately her breathing began to constrict.
A horrible screeching sound followed, like fingernails on a chalkboard, before the real turbulence happened. Her neck jerked forward as the blast of turbulence hit the plane. She gripped her purse tightly, clenching her teeth, the last thing she needed now was to draw attention to herself with an asthma attack.
Shannon shuddered, as a short man rushed past their seats in a state of panic, closely followed by several more stewards. A stewardess stood at the front of their section telling everyone to remain calm. Though her damn perky voice was meant to put the passengers at ease, Shannon could see the uneasy restlessness in the other passengers as the plane continued to jump in mid-air.
Brutal honest truth. That's one of the many things Shannon believed in. The fear in the stewardess' eyes was apparent; the way she glanced about the plane positively screamed that something was wrong.
Boone looked up from the in-flight magazine he leafed through. "The seat belt light is flashing." He said coldly, before returning to his magazine. Despite Boone's front, Shannon doubted he was actually reading the airline trash. Boone had mastered speed reading in the sixth grade, but for some reason his eyes remained focused on the same page for over an hour.
"Obviously." Shannon rolled her eyes, but purposely dropped her purse so she could bend over and do up her seatbelt discreetly. The last thing she needed was for Boone to lord another thing over her.
"Do you need your inhaler?" Boone rested the magazine on his lap as the plane jerked again, he looked at her worriedly, but Shannon swore she saw a smirk hidden in his eyes.
"No." Shannon gritted her teeth and looked away. Not now, don't panic, not now. She breathed in deeply and forced herself to relax.
"This happens all the-" Boone's reassurance was cut short was a horrible grinding sound of metal on metal. Shannon's neck was jerked forward again. Before she could yell lawsuit the air bags dropped in front of their seats.
The plane began to shake as if a giant unseen hand was playing toss. Shannon stared at the yellow plastic air bag in front of her, forgetting completely what to do.
"Shannon!" Boone shrieked, the yellow mask already on, obscuring half his face, making his eyes stand out more than usual. Boone reached over her shoulder and grabbed her airbag and roughly put it on her, all but tangling the damn thing in her hair. She would have been angry if she weren't so frightened.
Shannon forced herself to take long breaths, but her legs and hands shook with fear and already her chest was constricting. Air was rushing through the plane and people were screaming, adrenaline was pumping through her body but being strapped to the seat prevented her from acting upon the increased energy.
Boone suddenly reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly as the tail section of the plane ripped away. Her hand felt as though it was being crushed by the steel force of his grip but at the moment it was the most comforting thing in the world.
Tears filled her eyes as she watched helplessly was people were tossed from the plane, still locked into their seats. Seatbelts won't help them now, Shannon thought, sickened by sight. She glanced over at Boone, suddenly desperate to hear one last stupid joke or berating comment. But all he did was look at her, gripping her hand even more tightly.
His eyes said far more in that one moment than they probably ever should.
Those eyes were the last thing she remembered before feeling the sickening plunge of the plane, before a thick cloying blackness took over every sense she had.
This was horrible. That was her first thought. The putrid smell of burnt hair and rubber mingled in the air with the occasional unsettling waft of burnt flesh. She remembered hearing screaming, long horrible drawn out screams of a terrified woman; it wasn't until Boone clamped his hand over he mouth that she realized it had been her.
Boone pulled her away from the burning wreckage. Dimly, as he led her away, she wondered how it was possible she was still alive.
Her heels dug into the loose sand, feeling oddly empty Shannon bent down and wiped a speck of blood from her white Gucci leather shoes, only managing to wipe the redness into the shoe.
This was too much. The smell, the scenery, the horrible clanging noises of the plane wreckage as the metal bent and tore. Shannon stood detached as people raced around her, astonished how far Boone had led her away from the burning wreckage.
Shannon was surprised at how calm she felt after giving into to the fear that had been coiled in her stomach. After she had screamed herself hoarse, crying and swearing about how this wasn't supposed to happen, all Shannon felt was a sense of displacement.
Though close to the ground zero of the crash, all Shannon could do was tap her foot and watch as other people scurried back and forth. Boone had left her almost immediately, spotting a women lying still on the beach. Although Shannon had stated that the woman was probably already dead, Boone still ran off to help. He always had to be the hero.
The moment the buzzing of the engine changed to a dull grind, Shannon knew something was wrong. Instinctively she shielded her head and turned away, just as an explosion ripped through the air. With an obnoxiously loud bang, the engine blew apart, sending shattered metal into the air. The smoke was horrible. She waved her hands in an attempted to clear some of the smoke but the only thing her efforts accomplished was sending waft of smoke up her nose.
Coughing fiercely at the smell of gas, Shannon stumbled away from her position, pushing her way past several people. Stumbling over a piece of metal, Shannon tripped to the ground reaching into her purse she clutched at her inhaler. The feel of the plastic tube calmed her immediately.
Head clear, Shannon moved the piece of metal and settled herself onto the beach. The wing of the plane was tittering precociously and people were still screaming and pleading for help. Placing her shawl underneath her, Shannon sat and waited for help to arrive.
She thought she heard Boone calling for her, but she made no effort to respond. He knew she was safe, and he could find her whenever. The last thing she needed was some sort of post- end of day's confession.
Catching sight of her, Boone scrambled over to her, all but collapsing into the ground. Immediately he reached behind her and grabbed her Prada purse.
"What the hell do think you're doing?" Shannon yelped as Boone pawed through the contents, before emptying it on the ground. She winced as her make-up and perfume hit the sand of the beach.
"Getting pens." Boone said shortly, rifling through the sand. He grinned as he found two of her pens.
" What? You better put everything back!" Shannon screeched, diving to seize a lipstick that was rolling away. "What do you need my pens for?"
"Do you think the ink will matter?" Boone pondered for a moment as he stood up. Shannon looked up at her brother and was certain that he had finally cracked.
"Boone!"
"You wouldn't understand." Boone retorted before he turned back to her, his face smug. "I'm helping the doctor."
"What doctor?" Shannon yelled as Boone scurried away, presumably to either help or hinder. Shannon guessed hinder.
Boone didn't return immediately, like she guessed he would. He stayed in the center of the commotion, trying to fit into whatever group was forming. Shannon didn't see the point in trying to make ties with these people, especially because in a few hours a rescue operation would land and she would never have to be here again.
She smiled at the thought, and all but laughed out loud when she thought of the interest that USA Today would have in the story of the plane crash and the miraculous survivors. Shannon stretched out into the sand content with her daydream.
Shannon had already tried to use her cell phone and was surprised when the damn thing wouldn't even turn on. Though there was no hint of a scratch on the cell, the damn black screen stared back at her despite whatever buttons she pushed. Shannon tossed the broken cell phone away, catching sight of a young pregnant girl standing in the shallows of the ocean. The girl caught her glance, smiled and waved, seeing no point in being rude Shannon smiled back.
The fires that the others had started were providing an unusual heavy warmth to the already hot tropical weather, the heat tickled the back of her throat and chest, making her breathing labored and heavy. Normally Shannon would have been pissed, but at the moment those fires were central to getting them out of here. So she just smiled and imagined an air conditioned room and a movie deal, just for her.
But the daylight had dimmed unusually quickly for Shannon's taste. Especially since she hadn't hear any sound of a rescue plane. Shannon was still quite pleased with the location she had chosen, it was close enough to the fire so that she could bask in its glow, and far enough from heat and the crowd that had gathered around the fire that she wouldn't have to make conversation.
Yes, she was quite pleased with herself. So much so she decided to treat herself to a pedicure. Shannon concentrated on painting her toenails, seeing no point to get all grimy and dirty just because she was temporarily stuck on an island. After all, when the planes arrived, they would hardly be given a chance to clean up before the press arrived.
Most of the time Boone was not a silent walker, he had an odd ability to make more noise on pavement that Shannon's stilettos. But other times, he had an ability to sneak up behind her; this was not one of those times. Shannon heard Boone's heavy footsteps ages ago, she simply had no inclination to greet him.
Boone sat beside, watched her toes for a moment before holding out a silver package. Tearing her attention from her feet to Boone, Shannon wrinkled her nose immediately. The smell of the package hit her before the title did. "As if I'm going to start eating chocolate" Shannon sniffed, turning her head back to her feet.
"Shannon, we may be here for a while." Boone said quietly, a note of pity creeping into his voice. She hated that tone, the one where it seemed that Boone understood something she never wanted to. He had used that tone even when he was ten, when she had told him not to get too comfortable – she was so certain that her mother would come back.
Shannon rolled her eyes. "The plane had a black box, idiot," she said plainly. "They know exactly where we are; they're coming. I'll eat on the rescue boat."
Boone held the chocolate out to her again, adamant that she would take it. "I'll eat on the rescue boat!" Shannon insisted again, the last thing she needed was someone to cast a shadow on her hope of rescue.
Boone shrugged, opting to eat the chocolate himself. Shannon caught his gaze and smiled, finally feeling a sense of ease overtake her. Perhaps their past could be forgotten, left behind in the burning wreckage of the plane.
Shannon turned back to her pedicure, easily imagining herself on a beach in Los Angeles. Before she could comment on the peacefulness, a rough noise sounded behind them. The sound seemed to originate from inside and around the island; all at once it seemed everywhere and nowhere. With bated breath, Shannon listened to the sound, the noise sounding oddly like a construction zone, the sound of metal crushing and bending.
Shannon and Boone stared at the jungle, trying to see what caused the noise. Shannon half expected to see a dinosaur rise over the treetops. Sounds still rumbling and roaring, Shannon turned to Boone and asked cautiously, "What was that?"
Shannon and Boone stood, watching as the other survivors stood as well and moved closer to the forest. Catching snatches of their conversation, Boone stepped away from Shannon and walked over to the other survivors. "Boone!" Shannon protested, angered at her brother's action. Was Boone trying to get himself killed?
After a moment of uncertainty, Shannon joined the other survivors. Distinctly aware of how she didn't fit into the group. The doctor that Boone claimed to have helped was also in the group, alongside a woman around Shannon's age. Almost ten people, almost all of them strangers to her, stood together as the sound seemed to surround them again. Shannon drew in a frightened breath as she saw the tree of the jungle fall to the ground effortlessly.
"Terrific." A guy said sarcastically, he looked at the others and seemed to wait for answer.
"It was probably nothing." Boone said assuredly, shrugging off the uncertain looks sent his way.
The pregnant girl fiddled with a large wooden necklace around her neck, and left the group quietly. After a moment a few other's left as well.
"Well." The guy continued, watching the pregnant girl leave. "Before Jurassic Park strikes again, I think we should make a round of intros." He looked around the few, waiting for someone to agree with him. "I'm Charlie… Charlie Pace." He said easily, he looked at them almost expectantly.
"Walt." A young black kid said sullenly as he settled himself on the ground. An older man, who Shannon assumed was his father, sat next to him. "Michael." The older man answered, "Walt's father." He added with an awkward tone. Shannon felt a strange déjà vu come over her, as she observed the awkwardness of father and child.
Charlie sat down as well, tapping his fingers anxiously onto the ground. Shannon shifted from foot to foot as Boone joined the three on the ground and introduced them both. Shannon wasn't sure if she should join the group or not, she caught the gaze of a Middle Eastern man who smiled at her knowingly. The man offered her a place in the sand next to Boone, unable to refuse the unasked offer, Shannon settled cautiously into the ground followed after a moment by the man.
"Sayid." The man said quietly, his face was expressionless as he surveyed the group. As if sizing them up. Shannon averted her eyes the moment the man's gaze fixed onto her, Shannon didn't believe in mind reading, but if she did she would suspect him.
"So." Charlie said, his fingers still drumming into the sand. "The plane crashed." He said easily, looking over at the fuselage. "Wild."
"Who'd have thought?" Michael answered, casting a long look his son. His eyes seemed to grow sadder. "On top of everything."
"Yeah." Boone answered, suddenly looking at Shannon. His eyes seemed dark and angry, and Shannon could almost see the thoughts rolling around in his head. She tensed immediately, certain that he would sudden burst out what had happened to complete strangers. Boone looked away and picked at the sand. "Everything."
The group sat in silent, Shannon assumed that there was really nothing to say. After all, Shannon doubted there was some sort of manners that could be pertinent after a plane crash. Shannon caught the young boy's, Walt's, eye and he smiled at her as if this was nothing more than a picnic in the park. The innocence of the young.
"It is possible the sound was mechanical." Sayid, the man with the dark eyes, said suddenly. The silence of the group grew even more hushed. Though the entire point of the circle was to discuss the sound, Shannon doubted that it was a topic any of them wanted to dwell on. She just wanted to get home; she didn't give a damn about some monster in the jungle. Whatever it was it could wait until the rescue opp arrived.
"I work in construction." Michael answered after a moment of thought. "It wasn't unlike a machine..." He trailed off; he shrugged and cast another unsure look at the jungle.
"But it wasn't like a machine either." Sayid concluded, offering a smile at the man.
Michael grinned for a moment, but his smiled faded and his brow furrowed. "Whatever it was, it wasn't natural." He said simply.
The group seemed to ponder Michael's comment; the whole group seemed so serious that Shannon fought the urge to laugh. Sayid and Michael were determined to solve the mystery of the sound; Boone's face was oddly contorted in deep thought. Only Charlie and Walt did not seemed focused on joining into the conversation.
Charlie shifted for a few moments before speaking. "Does anyone have any sun block?" Charlie asked, picking at his already slightly burned arm.
Shannon reached into her bag and dug out her lotion, brushing off a bit of sand leftover from Boone's search for pens. "Yeah, I do." She said as she passed it to Charlie. Shannon expected to feel a bit of remorse as Charlie pour a liberal amount of twenty dollar lotion onto his arm, but all she could do was grin.
A heavy-set man appeared; normally she'd have called him fat, but she was feeling charitable. He kneeled and sat by Charlie and Walt. Despite the appearance of joviality, the man seemed oddly anxious. "So. I was just looking inside the fuselage; it's pretty… grim in there. D'you think we should do something about the…" The man stumbled over his words as he caught sight of Walt, "b-o-d-y-s?" He finally spelled out.
Shannon fought the urge to laugh, as Michael looked at the man and said with disbelieving tone. "What are you spelling, man, 'bodies'?"
"B-o-d-i-e-s." The kid corrected easily, not missing a beat. Shannon was beginning to like this kid.
Ignoring Michael and Walt, Sayid turned to the man, "that sounds like a good idea." He said seriously, casting a look at the fuselage.
Shannon looked at Sayid shocked, he met her incredulous gaze. Shannon felt prickles rise up her back at his suggestion. "No!" She protested immediately, everybody seemed to be forgetting that they were going to be rescued. "They'll deal with it when they get here."
Before anyone could add their opinion on the matter, the doctor, Jack, joined their group. Standing outside the circle Jack seemed to pause making sure he received everyone's attention. "I'm gonna go out and look for the cockpit. See if we can find a transceiver to send out a distress signal to help the rescue team." Jack turned to Boone and continued. "You're gonna need to keep an eye on the wounded. If the guy in the suit wakes up, try to keep him calm, but don't let him remove that piece of shrapnel. Do you understand?"
Shannon nearly snorted as Boone's ears almost perked up at the thought of playing hero. He was nearly salivating. "Yeah. Got it. But what about the guy with the leg? The ti-"
"It stopped bleeding." Jack stated, cutting Boone off. "I took it off last night. He should be all right."
Boone nodded eagerly. "Yeah, cool. Good job." Shannon bit her tongue to keep from laughing, she wondering if Jack knew that Boone had failed his lifeguard's license three times, and only got the damned thing because his mother pulled a few strings. Not that Boone knew about the last part.
Charlie, the twitchy guy, stood up and started after Jack. "I'll come with. I wanna help."
Jack seemed unsure with the offer and waited a moment before answering. "I don't need any more help." Jack finally said, waiting for Charlie to bow out gracefully. But the guy seemed far too determined to let the topic fall.
"No, its cool, I don't really feel like standing still, so…" Charlie shifted expectantly and grinned when Jack nodded his consent. "Excellent."
Charlie sauntered off with Jack, but not before turning and waving them goodbye. Boone and Hurley immediately responded, but Shannon just watched. The moment Charlie left, there seemed to be no reason to stay in the small circle. Boone, in Wonder Boy mode, left almost immediately afterwards to check up on the Marshall.
Hurley nodded at them, before leaving as well.
"I wanna find Vincent." Walt suddenly said, turning to his father. The kid's tone was pleading and Shannon wondered who Vincent was.
"Yeah." Michael sighed, casting a tired look at the circle. He seemed to want to stay, Shannon thought, but he still got up and brushed the sand off. "We'll comb the beach line then."
Michael and Walt walked a few steps before Michael turned back. "Um. Vincent is a golden retriever, so if you see one…" Michael trailed off again.
"Of course." Sayid said easily, Michael smiled and left again.
Shannon bit her lip, trying to think of a way to leave the conversation gracefully. Though she wondered why she should care at all about hurt anyone's feelings. "So. Yeah." She muttered, standing easily. She shrugged at Sayid as he stood with her.
"Goodbye then." Sayid said calmly, he nodded at her and Shannon took that as he cue to leave.
"Later." Shannon replied as she walked away.
"I suggest finding some shelter." Sayid called after her. "It will rain soon." Shannon kept walking, seeing no need to respond.
Of course it would rain. Because being stranded wasn't punishment enough, no, her clothes had to be ruined as well. Shannon quickly took off her shoes, as the rain began to pour down. Feeling her toes squish into the wet sand, Shannon walked over to Boone who had run off to find her.
"Abandoning your charge?" Shannon said viciously as Boone joined her. "That's not very ethical."
"I assume you wanted help." Boone bit back. "But if you want to be by yourself that's just fine." He huffed, walking a few paces ahead of her.
"Boone, wait." Shannon sighed, catching up to him. She shivered as the rain grew heavier, and frowned when she saw Sayid. She hated weathermen, she dated two of them. "Look, what's your plan?"
"Fuselage."
"Gross." Shannon said disgusted. "I'd rather the rain."
"Go ahead. Get pneumonia, cough up a lung. I really don't care." Boone shrugged as he kept walking forward.
Disgruntled, Shannon rolled her eyes and continued with her brother. To take her mind off her newly pedicure feet soaking into the wet sand, Shannon watched the other survivors scramble for shelter. No one else seemed heading for the inside of the fuselage. In fact, one man didn't even seem to be trying to get out of the rain at all. A bald man sat on the beach, his eyes closed and head tilted toward the heavens.
The big guy, Hurley, called after her and Boone when he saw where they were headed. "I'm telling you, you don't want to go in there. Too many bodies."
Personally, Shannon wanted to listen to him but the last thing she wanted was too look weak in front of Boone. So she simply tossed her hair, and kept on with the march.
Reaching the fuselage, Shannon was stopped by the faint smell of decay. Although CSI had taught her that it would be a long time before the bodies were in a full rate of decay, the smell still sickened her.
"I'll go first." Boone said charitably, "wait out here."
"Not really an issue." Shannon wrinkled her nose. As Boone disappeared inside, the same sound from earlier reappeared, Shannon shivered in earnest as she watched the trees once again fall and move.
The pregnant girl moved into the rain again and turned to a middle-aged black woman. Shannon idly wondered if it was healthy for her to be standing out in the rain.
"Shannon!" Boone called. "What the hell are you waiting for? A red carpet?"
Shannon cast one last look at the pregnant girl before heading into the fuselage. She wondered if it would be too idiotic to hope that whatever was in the jungle was a really large and loud rescue crew.