Title: Pain and Pomegranates
Rating: T
Characters: Sayid, Sawyer, Shannon, some Libby and Sun
Ships: Sayid/Shannon
Summary: Post-"Abandoned" AU. As Shannon lies comatose, Sayid spirals toward despair. Or at least, he would, if pomegranate seeds didn't keep flying at his head.
Author's notes: Why, yes, I am in denial. Come join me. It's better here. This is also my first fanfic, so please review.
Disclaimer: The characters and locations of Lost are owned by JJ, Damon, and the folks of ABC, and I am making no profit from this.
Pain and Pomegranates
Part 1: Accusations
Sayid ran frantically through the jungle. He knew he had seen the boy disappear into the bushes ahead of him. Shannon had been right. Now, if he could just catch up to Walt, she might forgive him. The jungle was stranger than usual today. Anything he didn't look directly at blurred slightly, and his feet made no noise as he ran. Bolting into the clearing, he was rewarded with the sight of the boy in front of him, crouched over something. "Walt!" Sayid called out, and the boy looked up at him with dark, accusatory eyes.
"It's your fault," the boy said. "You said you'd watch out for Vincent." As Walt stood up, Sayid saw the dog laying motionless, covered in blood. He instinctively knew the boy was right; it was his fault the dog was dead. However, he couldn't remember at all how it had happened. As he was pondering this, he heard a female voice behind him, and felt a light touch on his back.
"That's too bad. You should have done better, Sayid." He turned slowly, afraid she would be angry with him, afraid she wouldn't be there at all. But she was there, and she was smiling at him. Shannon. His Shannon. She always managed to look so beautiful. Even on a deserted island, she resembled some model on a western magazine cover. But far more beautiful than the spotless clothes and perfect hair, was the light shining in her hazel eyes whenever she looked at him. He pulled her into a deep kiss, savoring the feel of her lithe body against his, the way her sleek, fine hair slipped through his fingers, the scent of her perfume. Walt and Vincent long forgotten, he determined to lead her back to the shelter he had built for her, and make love to her as he had before. But something was wrong. She was pulling away from him.
As she stepped back, he froze in shock. Her shirt was covered in blood. He tried to breathe, but couldn't. She smiled up at him. She turned and said playfully, "I'm running away again, Sayid. This time, I don't think you'll catch me." She took off through the jungle. He ran after her, determined to prove her wrong.
He stumbled blindly through thick bushes, and around trees. Every now and then, he would catch a glimpse of her ahead of him. A flash of blonde hair. A hint of her blue miniskirt. He ran past John Locke carving the Swan Station code into a tree with one of his knives. 4… 8… 15… "You'll need more faith than that, Sayid," the older man said in his strange, calm way.
Sayid ran on, increasing his speed, his heart pounding. How was she faster than him? How? With her asthma, she had never been able to run so far before. As he sped through a clearing, he noticed Charlie hanging by his neck from a tree. Charlie was holding a gun to his head and muttering, "Don't pretend to be. Don't pretend to be." Sayid continued on. He had to catch Shannon! Ahead of him, he saw the open doorway of the Hatch. He ran inside.
He was running through the dark, concrete corridor of the Hatch. He was striding briskly through the bleak hallway of the Iraqi military prison, back in the familiar uniform of the Republican Guard. Omar had sent for him. A new prisoner had been brought in, and he was to help with the questioning. He stepped inside the interrogation room, and blinked a few times in confusion. "You are not Omar."
"Shut up!" the short, brunette woman spat at him. She stared at him a moment, and then smirked. "Cute beret," she sneered. He didn't mention to the woman that she, herself was wearing full Guard regalia, including the beret.
"What are you doing here, Ana-Lucia?" he asked.
"You are both here to interrogate the prisoner," said an annoyed voice. He turned to see Nadia sitting in the corner of room, scowling at the screen of an Apple II computer that commanded her complete attention. She didn't bother to look up at him as she asked, "Are you going to hurt her, Sayid?"
"The prisoner is ready," Ana-Lucia hissed. Sayid turned to look at the person sitting in the chair in front of him. It was Shannon. She was wearing a hajib that clashed weirdly with her miniskirt. Her shirt was still covered in blood. She looked up at him with dark, accusatory eyes. It was the same look she had given him when she had told him that he would leave her one day. He wanted to rush to her, hold her in his arms, tell her everything would be all right. He didn't move.
He heard Ana-Lucia laughing and looked over. She was carving bamboo in sharp spikes. "Did you really think that you could save her? You?" she asked. "I know what you are. You couldn't save anyone."
Nadia spoke up, still not taking her eyes off the computer screen. "He likes to be the hero. It's one of his games he keeps playing." Sayid's heart sank. If there had ever been one person in the world who had believed in him, it had been Nadia. She gave an exasperated sigh and bared her teeth at the computer.
Sayid glanced around the room at the three women. Ana-Lucia was staring at him with a disgusted expression, as if he were the most pathetic thing she had ever seen. Nadia never looked at him, but appeared to be ready to throw the Apple across the room in frustration. Shannon's expression was the worst. She looked so hurt, and he knew he had failed her.
Ana-Lucia sprang into sudden action. She picked up a bamboo spike and moved toward Shannon. She looked up at him. "Are you going to help or not?" Nadia pounded her fist on the keyboard.
"No," Sayid whispered. He was moving toward the table where the spikes were laying. "No." He looked over at Shannon. A tear slid down her cheek. He picked up a spike. "This isn't what I wanted," he pleaded. Shannon glared back at him. He moved toward her, spike in hand.
"Ready?" asked Ana-Lucia.
Bwip!
The room shifted out of view. The last thing he saw was Shannon's furious eyes.
Bwip!
He came into consciousness slowly. What had woken him? Why did his back hurt so much? Because he was sleeping on a cold, rock floor. Why was he doing that? Why wasn't he sleeping at the beach, curled up warm next to Shannon? He jolted upright as memories of recent events flooded back.
The rain. The gunshot. The blood. Shannon falling. An unknown brunette woman holding a gun, and wearing a horrified expression. Rage had taken hold of him, and he had wanted to hurt that woman. He had wanted to use every technique he had learned in the Guard to make her experience pain she had never imagined before. He had wanted to kill her as slowly as he knew how. Then Shannon had moaned and feebly grasped at the fabric of his tank top. He found himself running down the hill, holding Shannon tightly against his chest. Away from the woman with the gun. Away from Jin and Michael. Had he really seen them? Toward the caves. Toward Jack. Toward the only possibility of hope he had left.
He had expected Jack to pronounce her dead immediately. He had expected Jack to look up at him with an expression of deep sorrow and pity. Instead, Jack's expression was grim and determined. He had started issuing orders. Orders that Sayid had followed at once, even though he could no longer remember what they were.
How many days ago had that been? Two? Three? He had slept only randomly and fitfully. When his body gave out entirely, he slept, otherwise, he was too afraid he would wake up and find that she had left him. When he did sleep, he had dreams that were almost as bad as the reality.
He rolled onto his hands and knees and moved toward the person lying on the mattress next to him. He looked at the still, silent form of the woman he loved. Was she still breathing? He bent closer to her.
Bwip!
Something, something small, hit him in the back of the head. He ignored it, as he listened for signs of life. Her breath came in small shallow gasps, and he felt a flood of relief. He felt for a pulse. It was weak and unsteady, but it was there. He felt another object hit his shoulder. She was horribly pale, even in the poor light of the caves. She nearly matched the white sheets she rested on. Another projectile flew through the air, but missed its target and landed on Shannon's airline blanket. It was a pomegranate seed. Absentmindedly, Sayid knocked it away. He could only think about Shannon now. Besides, there was only one person horrible enough to try to annoy him when he was already so obviously miserable.
Bwip!
Another pomegranate seed hit his ear.