Title: Psychics and Psychosis
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. Not one. Which is just unfair. I mean, they have so many, would they really miss one eeny-weeny little character if, for example, I happened to borrow one and accidentally forgot to return? Ok, they might miss Jack. But maybe I could do a runner with Sawyer or Hurley?? Oh, alright, keep them, see if I care. Pout.
Warning: A few swear-y words. The suggestion of m/m pairings.
A/N: This was going to be a lovely character study, delicately intertwining original plot and Island weirdness. Instead my muse gave me this. Stupid Island Crack. Wth? I am so going to sue his ass.
"They're mine, I found them!" the girl yelled, her face flushing with anger as she clutched the box to her bony chest.
"And what? You think finders keepers?" Shannon rolled her eyes at the schoolyard mentality. "Look. I bought them, they're mine. Just give them back to me, ok?"
"Make me…." There was slight derision in her voice as she looked the other girl over, dismissing her as just another pink and blond Barbie princess, and deliberately turned away with a sharp-edged laugh.
That laugh was a mistake.
"You find me amusing?" The cool frost of Shannon's eyes was nothing to the ice drenched words. "You are so going down!" she hissed.
Before Bare Midriff realised what was happening Shannon had grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head backwards. A shriek and a stumble and then the precious box flew across the sand. Bare Midriff let out a yelp of dismay, her nails clawing frantically at Shannon's wrists.
With an unerring eye for trouble, Sawyer chose that moment to peek out from his tarp, and his eyes lit up.
"Woohoo! Cat fight!"
Not bothering to grab a shirt, he ambled over to watch the fun develop. Other people gradually noticed the commotion, some of them came running across only to pull up short, waiting for someone else to do something, but the normal enforcers were all absent.
"You think we should stop this?" Charlie wondered, eyes round and wide as he watched the two writhing females.
"Totally." Hurley agreed. They both continued to stare.
"So… you going to do it then?" Charlie asked.
"Huh?" Hurley replied.
"Help stop the fight?"
"Get between those two? Dude, I'm not a complete idiot. Where's Jack?"
Charlie shrugged.
"Checking medical supplies. Again."
"Sayid normally breaks up the quarrelling…."
"He wandered off into the jungle by himself. Said he was, ahem, getting wood for the beacon…."
Hurley nodded his understanding. Collecting wood was now a well used euphemism for when a guy need a little 'alone' time.
Michael had taken Walt off somewhere for some quality father/son bonding, so that left only one other guy with the balls to intervene…. They both glanced at Sawyer. He seemed to sense the glance.
"No way, Jose." He drawled without taking his eyes off the developing fight.
Charlie opened his mouth to protest, Hurley shook his head frantically.
"Don't go there, man," he whispered.
Charlie frowned.
"Why not?" he mouthed.
"Listen to the wise man, Has-Been. Ain't no way, no how I'm gonna allow this show to be cancelled." Sawyer lips twisted into their trademark smirk and he circled around for a better view, shouting out words of encouragement to the combatants.
Already clothing was being yanked - much to his delight. Sawyer clapped his hands in appreciation as Bare Midriff forced Sticks in a headlock, hands frantically scrabbling for purchase. Little tops were pulled and torn, revealing ever increasing expanses of tanned, naked flesh as they thrashed and turned, snarling-hot fury running between them.
"Now this is what I call entertainment! Hey you, Mr Jungle Guy, know of any mud pits nearby? You ain't seen nothin' 'til you've watched girls rolling in mud. Seen it sheenin' their bodies real nice… slick and smooth, glossing their skin like silk."
Locke appeared to be mesmerised so Boone growled a response.
"Watch your mouth, Asshole! That's my sister you're talking about."
"And one long sweet lick of candy she is, too." He glanced at Boone and licked his lips provocatively. "Just like her brother."
Boone had been about to throw a belligerent punch, instead his tensed arm fell back and his mouth dropped, red heat staining his body and flushing his cheeks scarlet. Sawyer gaze stroked over the pink warmth. "Well, ain't that just the cutest darn thing." The soft growl made tiny hairs on the back of Boone's neck stand on end and he shivered as though in anticipation. Of what, he couldn't say.
He drew a breath as though he were going to speak and then slowly released it. He ducked his head, not altogether sure what he should do or say when Sawyer was in front of him, half-naked, golden skin glowing and hooded eyes focused intently on him. Reading him. Challenging him. Confusing him.
Sawyer repressed a small smile, it was always fun to tilt people's world for them, might even get something out of it later. For now, he turned his eyes back to the tussle.
"Folk always misunderstand me," Sawyer lamented, a hint of wounded innocence seeping through. "I was just tryin' to give them somewhere safe to play and a mud pit would be perfect, make sure those sweet things don't go and do themselves a mischief. Anyway, don't see you 'xactly rushing in to pull them apart. Guess you're enjoyin' the spectacle, ain't you, Bro?"
Boone overcame his confusion by concentrating on his Shannon's behaviour and began frantically tugging at Locke's arm.
"We've gotta to do something!" he hissed. "My sister's being turned into a goddamned… peepshow!"
Locke shook his head, his blue eyes bright and knowing.
"Son, sometimes you have to cut into the wound to drain the poison out."
Now his high colour was due to frustration, Boone's mouth down-turned petulantly and he gestured angrily at Locke.
"Huh? What the hell is that supposed to mean? I mean, really?"
Sawyer rolled his eyes.
"All your goddamned jungle buddy trips together and you still don't understand Lockese? He's tellin' you to leave them the heck alone. Those are two mighty pissed off chicks, they need this. You know how it is, everyone needs to let rip once in a while, and fighting scratches the itch. Fighting or a bit of groin to groin action, if ya'll take my meaning, either gets the job done…."
Boone hovered uncertainly, and realised he did know the feeling. He felt kinda scratchy himself, wanting to run until the world fell away, punch out just for the stab of pain in his hand, or feel his fingers fisting in shoulder length blond hair and….
"So, which do you want? Fight or …?"
Boone shifted uneasily. It was as if Sawyer had read his mind, and it was a shock, complete with high voltage kick, when he suddenly realised that the blond-haired lover of his imagination no longer wore his sister's face.
"I'm up for either, Metro," Sawyer offered.
Boone wished that his eyes hadn't flown up to Sawyer's face, because now he was trapped, caught by the mixture of amusement and heat that Sawyer projected. The man was just… sex. Once again blood suffused him. Sawyer's laughter rumbled through the air and this time it was Boone who licked his lips.
"Oh yeah…," Sawyer breathed softly.
The sound of that voice was liquid, and it rushed through Boone like a surging wave, filling him, overwhelming him, leaving him breathless, and he realised that Jesus, he wanted it so much his entire body was shaking. He tore his gaze away, and looked around convinced that everyone must be watching this revealing little sideshow. Instead, every gaze was still locked on the main event. Every gaze, except for one. Boone could feel appraising blue eyes scorching over him, leaving burn marks where they passed. He had to get away before he made a complete fool of himself, and somehow he managed to find the strength of purpose to turn from that blistering gaze and walk away.
"Later, Pretty Boy."
Boone knew this had to be a game, one that he shouldn't be playing with a predator as dangerous as Sawyer. A game he was bound to lose. Although part of him wondered if losing would be such a bad thing.
Another potential mark set up and ready to fall like a ripe plum right into his lap. Sawyer might never play that card but it was always worth having it hidden up his sleeve. He carefully suppressed a smug grin and returned to watching the girls, his pleasure nicely fanned by the hot need that had flared in Pretty Boy's eyes.
Escaping the headlock, Shannon began to gracefully circle, her dancer's poise giving her economy of movement and the innate balance a professional boxer would have envied, whilst the years of practising through exhaustion and pain showed in her stamina and wiry strength. Both girls were wild-eyed, chests heaving, breath hot and rasping, perspiration slicking their heated skin. Shannon took a deep breath and pushed into attack, diving forward she clutched at Midriff's waist and in one smooth move kicked the legs from under her. They fell in a tangled heap with Shannon emerging on top, straddling Midriff, and holding her down, pinning her arms above her head. Midriff bucked wildly, desperately trying to topple the other girl. Shannon fell forward with an oomph of pain. Sweating and gasping they lay for a second, breast to breast.
"Mine!" Shannon rasped.
"Never!" Midriff grunted defiantly.
"Bloody hell…. Is it just me or is that like seriously hot?" Charlie whispered his mouth suddenly dry.
"Dude, I swear, 120 degrees in the shade? Way cool compared to them. Although, much as I hate to agree with him, Jethro there is right. Mud would be a bonus."
"Yeah, and now I can't get the sodding image out of my head. In my imagination they're wearing nothing but mud. Think I'm going to have to join Sayid and collect some wood for the beacon."
"Collect wood with Sayid?" Hurley raised his eyebrows and looked a little hurt.
"Christ, no, not literally 'with' Sayid! He's into pain and torture, and I'm really not." Charlie shuddered. "And cheers for that image, it was the equivalent of a cold shower."
"Sorry, dude. Just, you know, watch the fight and go back to imagining mud and you'll soon get your groove back."
Claire overheard the comment and shook her head.
"Honestly, you guys are just plain sad. If you were any sort on men you'd be putting a halt to this."
Charlie turned pink and shifted guiltily.
"Be a different story if it were Jack and Sawyer rolling naked in the mud," Hurley whispered comfortingly.
Claire's sharp ears caught the comment.
"Not at all! Girls aren't like men, you know. It's not all about nakedness and sex for us."
But her eyes narrowed in consideration and she gradually sidled over to Kate.
"Uh. Hi."
"Hey Claire. What's up?"
"Well, I was just thinking, you're kind of close to them, I mean, Jack and Sawyer. I was wondering… well, um, I guess there's no chance you could rile them up and arrange us a Jack and Sawyer showdown? Naked? In a mudpit?" she asked hopefully.
Kate's eyes took on a faraway look and she gave her inscrutable smile.
"Nice thought, but reality is they'd probably kill each other."
"I guess. Still, doesn't seem fair that the boys get their entertainment, it would only be sporting of them to return the favour." She put a hand to her back and stretched. "Could do with something to take our minds off of all of this," she said with an all encompassing wave of her arm.
"You're right, we could."
Claire glanced at her, wondering if she'd managed to get Kate on side. It was difficult with Kate to read precisely whose side she was on at any given moment, but it seemed, for now, that Claire had managed to hook her interest, and a pinpoint light in those hazel eyes indicated that her clever brain was already planning. They exchanged small, complicit smiles of understanding.
Catching sight of the circle of people and hearing the cheers and catcalls, Jack wondered what the hell was happening now. Then he caught a glimpse of the wrestling women. Jesus, sometimes he felt as though he were the only adult on the island. He began running, pounding up the beach. Only to be pulled up short as Sawyer caught at his arm.
"Whoa there, Hoss!"
Sawyer's hand was around his chest, pulling Jack close, intent on holding him back.
"What the hell is this? Why is no one stopping it?" he asked furiously trying to tug away from Sawyer.
And now Sawyer's chin was almost resting on Jack's shoulder, his hair brushing against Jack's ear. Like lovers embracing.
"Wow. D'ya think I have mental powers?" Claire breathed to Kate.
"With this island? Maybe," Kate frowned. "Try wishing for something else."
Claire stared at the two men, her eyes narrowing, intense and watery with concentration.
Jack continued to tug away but Sawyer held tight. Jack's shirt began to rip in Sawyer's grip, buttons pinging as it began to gape revealing Jack's nicely muscled chest. The shirt slipped over a broad shoulder, down one arm, muscles flexing as Jack manoeuvred and twisted, until Sawyer held nothing but a ripped shirt, and Jack's naked torso was revealed, sweaty and gleaming in the sunlight with Sawyers strong hands and bronzed body contrasting against Jack's paler tones.
"Kate! It worked. Jeez, I've got psychic powers! Look!"
She began to bounce excitedly and then enthusiasm was ruined as a stab of pain reminded her that she was nine months pregnant and bouncing wasn't the greatest idea. She clutched at Kate's arm and held her belly.
"Claire, are you alright?"
"Noooo!" she wailed softly and blinked back tears from her wide blue eyes. "I lost concentration and now they're getting away from me…. Aw damn it! I was going for the jeans next…."
"There, there. It's ok. It probably wouldn't do you any good to get over excited anyway," Kate comforted, but a thread of regret ran through her words.
Sawyer was now gripping Jack's bicep.
"Aw Jack, c'mon, don't be such an ol' stick in the mud. This is the most entertainment us folks have had since we've bin here. Not like they're gonna bust each other up, bit of hair pullin' and mebbe a scratch or two. Nothing but a good ol' bitch slapdown."
There was solid thwack giving lie to Sawyer's reassuring words. "Aw, shit," he sighed.
A groan of sympathy rose from the crowd. Midriff fell backwards with a dazed whimper, clutching the side of her face.
Shannon got to her feet, rubbing at her knuckles. Then she coolly dusted herself down, stooped to pick up the nearby box and hugged it tight with a look of triumph.
"Look at her, acting like she couldn't swat a bug without help. How was I s'posed to guess that Princess had a mean left hook?"
Dark eyes sparking with fury, Jack flashed Sawyer a look of contempt and tore out of his grip. He hurried to Midriff, quickly assessing her injuries and calling for water and a cloth, using them to gently clean her up and pressing a cold compress to her rapidly swelling eye.
"Are you ok?"
"The bitch has got the Choos!" Midriff wailed.
"Your shoes?"
"Jimmy Choos!"
Then she burst into sobs. Jack rubbed her back comfortingly. Why were they fighting over Jimmy's shoes? And who the hell was Jimmy?
Her friends came across and helped the sobbing woman away, with Jack promising to check on her later. He was curious enough to follow up the odd conversation, so wandered across to join Hurley.
"Hey there."
"It wasn't my fault! I said someone should stop it."
"Me too," Charlie chimed in.
"Save it, guys. I just want to find out if there's a Jimmy on the manifest? You know, or a James?"
They both relaxed.
"Well, yeah…." Hurley glanced in Sawyer's direction. As the appointed Keeper of the Manifest he was the only one privy to Sawyer's real names, and he took the confidentiality of his duties as seriously as any doctor. "Why do you wanna know, Dude?"
"That fight was about Shannon stealing Jimmy's shoes."
Hurley looked towards Sawyer and a smug grin spread across his broad face.
Jack followed his gaze, his brow creasing with confusion.
"She stole Sawyer's shoes?"
Then there was the carrying of the confidentiality thing way too far. Anyway, this was too good not to share.
"He's the only surviving James, so uh huh. I guess she stole his shoes."
"Yeah?" Charlie laughed appreciatively. "Good on her! That's what I call payback."
"I don't get it. Why would she steal his shoes?"
"Some kind of shoe fetish?"
"But what's so special about them?" Jack felt absurdly hurt. She hadn't tried to steal his shoes.
"I don't know. Weird, huh? Maybe she just hasn't got around to ours yet. Word of advice," Hurley offered sagely. "When you sleep, keep your shoes on, or put them under your pillow."
"Yeah. Thanks," Jack said absently. He wandered away, still mulling over why Shannon would steal men's shoes. This island needed a trained psychologist not a doctor.
"Under my pillow?" Charlie frowned.
"Well not you, obviously, cus your shoes are lethal, Man. They'd knock out an elephant at ten paces."
"You saying my shoes smell?"
"No. I'm saying your shoes stink."
"Oh. Fair enough."
"Next time there's a polar bear, we won't need a gun you just need to throw your shoes at him and the stench will poleaxe him."
"Ha, ha."
"Or if that monster comes rustling through the trees one whiff and…."
"Overkill, Mate."
"But…."
"Enough, ok?"
Meanwhile, Boone approached Shannon.
She had scratches on her arms, torn clothes and her hair was scraggy and mussed. He had a need to take his aggression out on a sarcastic, manipulative, beautiful blonde. And at this moment his sister was slightly less scary than Sawyer.
"You look like…."
She put a hand on her hip, her eyes narrowed to cold steel points, and he swallowed his original insult but couldn't contain his anger.
"I hope you're satisfied now, making a spectacle of yourself, playing to the crowd like some cheap whore. And for what? A pair of goddamn shoes, Shannon! Why didn't you just let her have them?"
She tossed her hair defiantly.
"They were my shoes, Dumbass."
"Sheesh! What does it matter? I'll buy you the exact same ones when we get back."
Shannon rolled her eyes, he was such an idiot.
"Well isn't that a typical man-thing to say!"
He was about to make the point that he was a man, but she steam-rollered over any comments he might make.
"What would be the point of that, huh? Who knows when we'll even get back? I could end up wearing last seasons Choos, how ridiculous would I look then! Is that what you want? Turn me into a complete laughing stock?" she demanded.
Boone snorted his derision and shook his head in that older and wiser way calculated to drive her absolutely crazy.
"Hate to break it to you, Sis, but you don't need any help from me on that front, you're doing fine all by yourself. You can't wear the damned things when we get back because they'll be last season and they're not exactly practical island wear, so what was the point of…."
Shannon kicked off her sensible shoes, tipped out her beloved Choos with the four inch stilettos, delicate straps and confection of cheerful little bows, and slipped them on her feet, gazing at Boone challengingly, as they sank four inches into the soft sand.
"Oh no! You cannot seriously…."
She lifted her arm in a 'talk to the hand' gesture, and walked away. If it hadn't been for the way her feet wobbled precariously it might almost have been called dignified.
Underneath she was seething. Even so, she hadn't actually meant to try to kill Sawyer. He just had shit awful timing….
He lifted his eyes from his book.
"Hey, Sticks. Done and had yourself a good l'il tussle earlier, shame we just had to just imagine the mud. Still, us guys sure appreciated the show, if ya take my meaning. And next time if you two need a hunk of meat for that sandwich….."
"You're disgusting, you know that, right?"
"Yeah, I've been told once or twice, but my natural charm and cheerful disposition soon wins folk around. Anyway, just bein' considerate. Mud is good for the skin, opens up the pores and leeches out impurities." He yawned lazily.
"Huh, I'm impressed. I mean, you're still disgusting, but at least you're not a complete moron."
"On the subject of disgustin', those are one fugly pair of shoes."
Her lips tightened imperceptibly, the only outward sign of her feelings.
"Ok, I take that back. You are a complete moron."
"Just tellin' it like it is, Sweetness."
"I love theses shoes. I fought for these shoes. I broke a damned nail for these freaking shoes."
Her voice was dangerously mild.
"Your mistake then. Personally, I wouldn't break a sweat for them."
First Bare Midriff, then her stupid brother and now Sawyer…. Something snapped inside. Her lips tightened and her eyes became flat and mean. Her foot was at his throat almost without her conscious volition.
"Uh… Hey! Hold on now… What the hell are you doing, woman!"
The spiked heel pressed into his chest, the toe ground against his neck.
"What am I doing? I'm giving you an up close view of the shoe. In case you wanted to change your opinion…," she replied coldly.
"Are you crazy? Easy there, woman! Aaargh!"
"Well?"
The pressure released enough for him to draw a raspy breath.
"I love them."
"You're not convincing me, Sweetness. Try harder."
A look of defiance flashed in his eyes, which was quickly squeezed out by the pressure mounting once again.
"Finest damn shoe I've seen! Shit hot I'm tellin' you."
He began to cough as the pressure lifted completely. She gave a bright smile.
"You think? Gee, thanks, Sawyer."
With a toss of blonde hair she was strutting away.
"Psycho bitch," he rasped rubbing his bruised neck.
"Dude, I'm disappointed in you." Hurley appeared, shaking his head. "Even I know you don't insult their shoes. Especially not hers, what with her shoe fetish and all." He whispered this last part out of the corner of his mouth.
Sawyer raised his eyebrows as Hurley winked at him. He shifted nervously, was the big guy coming on to him?
"Uh, right."
"Yeah, heard she stole your shoes. Bummer."
"She what?"
Sawyer had seen neither hide nor hair of his possessions, now it seemed that Sticks had claimed his shoes!
Hurley nodded. "It's true, dude. She steals shoes. Got it form Jack himself."
Stealing was about power, status and survival, Sawyer understood stealing… but shoes?
"Oookay…. Why?"
Hurley shrugged.
"Anyway, shoes, touchy subject at the best of times so if you've got nothing pleasant to say about them best to avoid altogether. Shoes and hair. Big no-nos."
Shannon stilled and turned back. Hurley came out in a cold sweat when he realised he'd let his big mouth run on a bit too loudly.
"I heard that. One. I did not steal the shoes. They were mine!"
She turned back, looking first at Hurley then at Sawyer.
"Two. Are you saying there's something wrong with my hair?"
Sawyer squirmed backwards holding his hands up in defeat.
"An' that's a big ass-kissing no, from the guy with a hole in his chest."
"Don't lie to me, Chickenshit. What's wrong with my hair?"
This last was addressed to Hurley, who visibly jumped, then attempted to make himself invisible by sheer willpower.
"Well?" she demanded.
Damn, still visible. He realised he was going to have to say something. In his defence he tried to avoid staring at her bird's nest hair and attempted to smooth the situation.
"Uh. Nothing. Really, your hair totally rocks. It's slightly…. But, you know, there's nothing wrong with frizzy…."
Sawyer sighed and lowered his gaze. It was a train wreck waiting to happen.
"Not that I meant your hair is…. Sawyer? Dude? Help me! Oh God, she's so gonna kick my ass!"
Hurley frantically back-pedalled, and was even more appalled when instead of the messy explosion he'd expected, her mouth wobbled and tears appeared at the corner of her eyes.
"I'm stuck here on Craphole Island, dried up skin, broken nails and frizzy hair. And why am I even talking to you?"
Hurley would almost rather have had the spray of blood and guts. He took a breath, but was thankful to be cut off before he sank further into the mire.
"No. Just don't say a word. Ok?"
He nodded dumbly and she turned to walk away.
"Not that I expect you dumbasses to understand. All the sensitivity of…dead fish."
"Fish?" Hurley mouthed silently, face screwed up in a frown. Sawyer waved him to silence.
"Hey, Princess. I feel your pain, you know," he called after her.
"Yeah. Right."
"Ain't got no conditioner - ran out a couple of weeks ago. Here I am, waking each morning, and shit, if my hair ain't like a haystack after a big ol' blow."
Shannon wavered uncertainly, suspicion bright in her eyes.
"Yeah?"
"Uh huh. Why do you think I've started wearing it knotted back? Keeps it nice and smooth."
She slowly made her way back to him.
"Doesn't tying it back give you a kink?"
"Sure it does, but there again it's a damned sight better than the alternative. Wild and out of control ain't a good look on nobody..."
They both glanced at Hurley.
"Hey!" Hurley felt forced to protest, "I like to think of it as natural and free-spirited."
Who were they to disillusion him? Aw shucks, what the heck….
"Your hair looks like shit, Pal.
"I'd say through a hedge backwards, but that would be flattery."
"Ok, now that's just plain rude."
They both ignored him, finally finding common ground.
"Anyway, when you think about it, dead straight is boring as hell. A couple of kinks… well, it's just enough to keep things interesting, don't you agree, Sweetpea?"
"I guess." A glimmer of an answering smile appeared on her face.
Hurley looked at them uncertainly.
"We're still talking about hair here, huh guys?"
Shannon sighed.
"I so miss my jojoba, extra smooth, shine and polish."
"Mine had added chamomile. Enhanced the natural blonde of my hair." Genuine nostalgia crept into his voice; he could almost smell the subtle scent of it.
A shifty look crept across Shannon's face.
"You know, I bet someone is hoarding bottles of the stuff. Like the bald, creepy guy…."
"Uh huh. Right next to his l'il old knife collection," Sawyer noted.
Good point, maybe not the best target.
"Or Jack. I'm sure he'll have some and just doesn't want to share. Probably came as part of a travel pack or something, and now its sitting in his suitcase unused. I mean really, look at the stubble he calls hair…."
Jack looked up at that precise moment, as if sensing he was being discussed.
Shannon's gaze slunk slyly in Sawyer's direction, and she could hardly contain her delight at the calculating look that hovered in his eyes as he watched Jack bending over to pick up his backpack. Boone might not be responding so well these days, but oh, she still had it! One more little push.
"What we need is a re-distribution of the island's wealth."
The mention of wealth tore Sawyer's attention from the sight of Jack now wearing the remnants of his shirt.
"I like the way you think, Darlin'," he smirked.
"Hey, I never took you for socialist-dudes. Cool! Wait… that's not what you meant, is it? Redistribution? Oh. Oh! You meant what's yours is yours, and what's mine is yours! I tell you now that I have nothing. So don't touch my stuff, ok? And if my batteries go missing then seriously? I'm gonna murder you. Fair warning."
"Hey, ain't he cute when he's riled?" Sawyer grinned. "And if I want your batteries how exactly you gonna stop me, Lardy?"
The grin disappeared underneath the bulk of a furious Hurley, who flung himself on top of Sawyer, pinning him to the ground, crushing his ribs and forcing the breath from his lungs.
"Hey. I don't think he should be that shade of blue," Shannon protested.
She made a half-hearted attempt to pull Hurley off.
Charlie spotted the fracas and came running across.
"Hurley, man! Bleedin' hell, have you gone insane?"
He tried to help Shannon but neither of them could budge Hurley's formidable bulk an inch. Veins were beginning to stand out on Sawyer's neck.
"You don't steal my batteries," Hurley growled with a quiet intensity.
Sawyer managed to shake his head and the other man acknowledged his surrender with a nod, finally relenting and rolling off of him.
"Hey, are you going to nick stuff? Because I really need some guitar strings…."
Everyone ignored Charlie.
"Sheeit! I don't want your damned batteries!" Sawyer gasped, once more trying to catch his breath. "What's with you guys' fixation with stopping my breath? If it's your way of getting me off, should tell you I ain't into it."
"Not one of your kinks, huh?" Shannon asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere in the hope of getting the conversation back to stealing the things she needed, and almost ducked to avoid the dagger looks. "Sheesh, excuse me for breathing."
"No, excuse me for breathing, since y'all seem to have such a problem with it!"
Sawyer was looking genuinely pissed off, his mouth a thin line, his eyes hooded and sparking in anger. Shannon's fantasies of jojoba, extra smooth, shine and polish were swirling down the drain. Lardass was so gonna pay for this.
Hurley had the grace to look a little guilty.
"Look. I'm sorry, ok? I go insane without my music. I need my music, so I need my batteries."
"I need guitar strings, people."
"You know what? I don't give a goddamn rat's ass what y'all need. Insane, the whole damned lot of you. You know what? I'm gonna go find myself a nice, shady tree, far away from anyone, maybe take a coconut and a book, shut my eyes and pretend that I'm on a frickin' deserted island. I don't wanna see y'all. I don't want to know about what any of y'all need. Princess Frizzbomb, I guess you'll have to find yourself some other sucker."
They watched him stride off.
"Suppose I'm not going to get any sodding guitar strings now. Cheers for that, Mate."
"You're such an idiot," Shannon joined in the Hurley hate-fest.
"What?"
"Instead of jumping him you could have blackmailed him into finding you more batteries, you know, whilst he was working on the wealth re-distribution thing."
Hurley kicked himself. He really was a dumbass. But feeling stupid just made him defensive.
"Wealth re-distribution? Why not just call it stealing? You know why not? Because then you'd have to face that what you were planning was just plain wrong!"
"Unlike trying to murder the guy?" Shannon pointed out.
"You should know! You tried to murder him first."
"He called my shoes fugly!"
"And that's like a capital offence now? And stealing is cool?"
"Of course stealing is wrong, but you see, this is more like a kind of property tax. Taking from people who have too much and giving to those in need. People like me," Shannon explained patiently. She used the justification that she always gave herself, the 'he has, I need' one, where she convinced herself that she was owed. "Kind of tough on those who have to pay. Naturally, they don't want to pay up so you have to make it a kinda stealth tax. Which is why you're getting it all confused with stealing."
"So Sawyer rifling through our stuff while we're sleeping is just a kind of taxation?"
"Exactly!"
She felt satisfied that someone finally understood. Boone never really got it. Had blamed her when really he should have blamed the unfairness and inequalities of the world.
"Most people get nightly visits from the Sandman, typical of this bloody island that we get the sodding Taxman…."
"Well we won't now, will we? Hurley has pissed off the tax-collecting fairy."
They considered this with maudlin self-pity. Until Hurley broke the silence.
"I'm so gonna tell Sawyer that you called him a fairy."
"Yeah? Well you were the one crawling all over him. Could you be any more obvious?"
"Huh?"
"Everyone knows that two men getting physical is just a way of them sublimating their desire to get… physical."
"You're kidding me?"
"'Fraid not. Read it in Cosmo so it must be true. And you are always throwing yourself on top of Sawyer..."
"No way, Dude!" Then he sighed and relented. "Am I that obvious?"
"I don't think Sawyer guessed," Charlie replied, "but sorry, Mate. You don't stand a chance with him."
"You think?"
"Uh huh. He never picks a fight with you."
Hurley considered this for a second. It's true, the guy never picked fights with him it was always….
"Oh. So, him and Jack then? Damn it dude, Jack was my second choice."
Obviously, this was his curse kicking back once again. He shook his head sadly.
"Sorry, mate. You'll find someone." Charlie gave him a pat. "You're a good bloke."
Hurley just nodded. He knew how the story went, written and lived it a hundred times. He put on his earphones and watched another crazy island day fade to blue.