Summary: 'It made her feel uneasy. As if he had had enough of her games. But Boone was Boone and he played along. Always.' ShannonxBoone. Their last conversation before Boone's death. Chapter 2 from Boone's POV.
Shannon brushed aside a tree branch, stumbling through the green jungle, cursing and biting her lip as her ankle twisted and she made a mad grab at some rough bark for support. Wincing she glanced at her ankle, reaching down to run a hand over the bone and swearing again when she felt a bruise coming on. The jungle was no place for a girl like her, and she knew it. She wished immensely that she could head back to the beach and display her body like a freshly painted canvas, but it wasn't happening today. Today, she had to find Boone.
Boone had been going off with Locke more and more often, something that irked her. He was always so attentive, so there, and now he was gone for hours. It'd been two days since she'd spoken with him last, and there were a couple things that needed doing. Only one sucker would agree no questions asked - and that was Boone.
Shannon sat down on a rock to catch her breath, surveying the towering mossy trees that formed a canopy over the sky. A mosquito buzzed near her left ear and she yelped, swatting it away. Tucking her blonde strands behind her ear, a grimace of annoyance on her face, she focused on steadying her breathing. Out here in the forest it was easier to admit to herself what she couldn't down at the beach. She missed Boone. Actually missed the bastard. What she missed about him she didn't know. All he ever did was whine at her heels, begging for favors and attention, saving her from scraps and paying her con-artist boyfriends. Shannon paused from brushing herself off, mulling that over. He did a lot. For a moment she could feel herself slipping towards gratitude, towards dangerous feelings she'd long locked away...shaking it off, she reminded herself what she was out here for. Not to stand in awe in front of Boone, but to get him to do more chores for her.
"Don't be a pushover," she straightened her shirt, reminding herself. "Not now. Not ever."
Boone was the pushover.
And so much more.
But she wouldn't allow herself to dwell on that.
Standing up she bent over, feeling the soreness coming on in her legs. She knew if she wandered aimlessly in the jungle long enough, she'd stumble on Locke or Boone. Gingerly she picked her way through colorful plants, hoping there were no snares to swoop up around her ankles. There'd be hell to pay for that.
"Shannon?"
She whirled around, pin-pointing her brother's voice. Boone stood a few feet away from her, leaning against a tree. His arms were crossed, eyes hard, a slight look of confusion across his features. She smiled warmly. Just how she liked him.
"Boone?" She questioned back at him, hands on hips. Exude confidence, that was key.
"What are you doing out here?" Boone took a step towards her, away from the tree. His arms were still crossed, although he'd begun chewing on his lower lip.
Chewing on his lower lip... it meant something. Shannon had never bothered to figure out what her brother's body language meant. She wished she knew it now. "Looking for you..." she continued with the plan, even if Boone wasn't going to take any of her flirting today.
"Well?" He spread his arms out wide, "You got me."
Yeah, I've got you. Shannon though, satisfied. She didn't allow the twinge of pleasure to come across her features, even though she felt it in her stomach.
"Sayid...left. For the woods, I think?" She squinted one eye as the sun cast it's rays inside the canopy, penetrating her line of sight. Her hair fell out from behind her ear and she quickly retucked it, taking a cautious step towards Boone. "And I needed help. With my tent."
"When do you not need help?"
Annoyance. She heard annoyance. Shannon had heard exasperation, angst, anger and sadness in Boone's voice, but never annoyance.
It made her feel uneasy. As if he had had enough of her games. But Boone was Boone, and he played along. Always.
"I need help with my tent." She grit her teeth. "Please." Shannon felt the syrup in her voice. It tasted bitter on her tongue.
"I can't help you, I'm helping Locke." Boone shrugged, stepping through the ray of sun so that he was closer to Shannon, away from the light. It was behind him now, illuminating his tousled hair. His eyes looked lighter then before, but still hard. Struggling. He was struggling with indecision.
Shannon knew what to do to boys who struggled with indecision. She needed that tent up. She wanted a place to sleep that night and she wanted Sayid to think she did it on her own. Reaching out, she ran a hand through Boone's hair, eyes all concern. "You'll kill yourself out here. Come back with me." A small smile played on her lips. Boone's stance wavered. She was winning.
"Shannon... I..." He opened his mouth, as if to say something.
She encouraged him with her eyes. Her smile. Everything she knew he loved about her, she played up. "Yes?"
"I can't."
Her mouth dropped. Anger. Indignation. "I can't." A phrase she'd never expected to hear from Boone. A sickening feeling dropped in her stomach when she realized that this had become much more then what she'd originally planned. It'd gone beyond asking for his help. There was something they needed to talk about. Something she'd been avoiding. Looking demurely up into his eyes, which looked back hard and cold at hers, she felt a warmth mixing with the sickness. It made her put a out a hand to steady herself. She felt Boone's warm fingers enclose around her own, stabilizing her.
She looked down at the ground, noticing the beautiful leaves, the color of the dirt, before looking back up and meeting Boone. His lips were close to her forehead. She had only to lean in closer to make contact. For a moment, it was something she wanted. Then she reminded herself who she was. Who she is.
"Shan," He sounded tired, letting of her hand, forcing her to stand upright again. "I can't do it anymore."
"What?" She didn't mean for her tone to come out so icy, so cold, so ungrateful. But it did. And like most things, she brushed it off. Didn't try to apologize.
"I can't be your errand boy anymore."
She was losing him. It meant so much more then putting up that damn tent. Shannon had trusted Boone to do whatever she wanted. It'd been what she'd thought was a pretty good system. Keep Boone dependent on her so she'd never lose him. And now, of all places, on a island - he was letting her go. It was the moment she'd been afraid of since Junior High. Since she'd first started taking advantage of him.
And it was all Locke's fault.
"What? Did your boyfriend have anything to do with this?" She spit at him, eyes like ice. Any warm feelings were erased with the hard feeling of desperation and rejection. Boone remained stolid, even though she knew how much what she said must have hurt him.
Right?
"Yes." He answered honestly, "He made me see. What you are." He looked her up and down, lips slightly parted.
"And what am I?" She combated, head tilted.
"Someone who's..." His brows furrowed in that way she'd always secretly admired. When she'd seen him like this before it'd been in victory. Now she stared at him, feeling sicker then ever. "Not..." he flung his hands uselessly, trying to find the magic words.
There were no magic words.
"You can't even say it, can you?" Her voice was like venom. She reveled in it. She loved fighting with Boone. But not like this. They fought about her boyfriends, her attitude, their parents, their funds...but never about how he felt towards her. Never.
"After that one night," Boone sighed, "And meeting Locke... I can't do it anymore."
"So you're replacing me with Locke?" It sounded ridiculous. Locke was an old man. She was...Shannon.
But she'd never really liked herself, anyway. She wanted to tell him that. But the words wouldn't come out.
"I can't ever replace you," He took a step forward, closing the gap between them. The closeness made her feel dizzy, out of control. Like 'that one night.' When he'd been rough and coarse in command and she'd let him. She'd let him do whatever he wanted that one night because Shannon had counted on the fact that she'd never want it again. But now, with Boone pushing her away, her amour fell at her feet. She reached out to him. Not to hit him or reprimand him or seduce him into doing what she wanted - Shannon just genuinely wanted to touch him.
Boone flinched. "No," he put up his hand, holding her wrist where it was. "No."
"Please?" She inches forward, kissing his ears. The side of his face. Every piece of him she doesn't want to loose but secretly promises to forget about tomorrow. No one has to know. Sayid doesn't have to know.
She feels his resolve weakening and for a moment hope springs in his chest. That he'll give in and she can add this victory to her ongoing tally. But just when his lips hungrily take hers, kissing her like he had 'that one night', he shoves her away.
She stumbles back, hitting the back of foot against a log and plunking non-too gracefully on the bark.
"Bastard!" She screeches angrily. Because they were so close. She was feeling so close.
The wind between them is icy and she feels alone. The wounded expression on her face is for real. But Boone doesn't know that. She mentally slaps herself as the pain in her chest rises to new heights.
"I love you, Shannon," Boone says it earnestly. It hangs there in the air for a second. His blue eyes are soft now. "But I can't do that anymore." His hands go up in a gesture of defeat.
Shannon used to get sad. She used to lay in bed with a broken heart. She used to enjoy crying in the bathroom and looking up at her face, seeing it streaked just right with mascara tears and knowing how pretty she looked while she was at it. She loved running to Boone when she needed him and casting him aside when she didn't - because it was the only way she knew how to treat him. She knew if she swallowed her pride and spoke what was on her mind he'd change his mind, he wouldn't walk away, they could pick up where they started and she could go back to being an Ice Queen tomorrow...
Shannon wanted to tell him that she ran off with those men so that he would come get her.
She wanted to tell him that he made her feel wanted.
She wanted to say that half the time she came running into his arms afraid was because she was acting. She just wanted Boone.
She opened her mouth to say she loved him.
But snapped it shut.
"I hate you." She says.
Because it's the only thing she can think of that's safe and she wont' regret later. After all, Boone's heard it so many times, one more wont' make a difference.
He turns away from her, his brown wrist flinging dangerously close to her midriff, and as she flinches she notices the inky name tattooed on his wrist. 'Shannon,' it was tiny, nondescript, unnoticeable. But it was there. Her name was on his wrist. When he'd first got it, he was drunk. The moment he'd come bursting through her bedroom door, slurring words and making proclamations, she'd swatted him away. But he'd gripped her shoulders intensely, flung his wrist in her face. Shannon.
She stood lost in though, waiting for the usual 'I hate you too' retort, or the quirk of an eyebrow, or the look of astonishment, but Boone's face remains the same. "Okay." He jams his hands into his pockets, hiding his wrist. "We done here?"
"We're done here. Oh, we're done forever, Boone. You're sick. Loving me. Coming after me like that -" She jumps off her log, hot words bubbling at her lips. Put him on the defensive. She doesn't mean a word she says, it's all coming out wrong, but it won't stop. Like her tongue has a mind of it's own and no matter what she says, her brain is always going to win out.
Boone takes off, jogging through the brush back the way she came. Her voice gets louder and her insults get worse, but he doesn't look back.
When he disappears it's then that Shannon realizes it will be the last time they'll ever talk about this again. A piece of her leaves with Boone, a piece of her only he owned. Alone again, she knows the mistakes she's made, the man she's driven away.
I hate Boone and he hates me.
But it's all wrong.
It used to be: I hate Boone and he loves me.
It was supposed to be: I love Boone and he loves me.
It was all she knew.