A/N: If you're wondering...I am a Shayid shipper all the way. PLEASE, come together and make some good Shayid fics, people. PLEASE!!!! This could be a one-shot, but if you like, I think it might turn out to be a real story.
Summary: When it rains, She likes to dance, and he...likes to watch.
-1-
She walked out of her shelter underneath the hanging eaves of the canvas tent, glancing over at her brother. His chest rose and fell evenly, assuring her that he was asleep. If he found out that she did this every night that it rained, he would probably scold her for something or another involving her safety and the selfishness of going out alone. But then, selfishness was not a concern as she stepped into the rain, feeling the wet droplets spatter onto her face, her outstretched hands, as her feet dug into the muddy ground.
She enjoyed the feel of the earth between her bare toes as she strolled toward the churning water of the sea, inhaling the briny scent of salt-spray. She could feel that her clothes were being soaked through as moisture fell from the heavens, but did not give a second thought as she began the routine that had become so very common to her.
She lifted her arms into a common pose, pivoting several times gracefully on one foot, coming to a stop to leap, legs spread as she landed softly in the mushy sand. Barely making a noise that could be heard over the melody of dripping, she danced across the beach, not straying too far or too near to the tent or the dangerous waters. She left herself to the dance as music came to mind and flowed through her body.
If any of the others were to see her like this, they would laugh. "The princess doing ballet," they would say. "You should be doing something useful," Boone would comment. "Sticks, don't show off the legs you ain't got," Sawyer would snort.
In truth, the mask that she wore covered a person that was strong, independent, intelligent, and genuinely caring when put to the task. Her low self-esteem and the degrading comments from her brother never seemed to help matters. The mask was always in place, she never being tempted to remove it.
Except...around him.
That was it. He was the person that caused her to break the bonds, even if only by a little, and dance, dance her heart out. She could see his obsidian eyes sparkling with amusement at something that she could not distinguish, those same onyx eyes taking a glance at her when thought to be unnoticed. But, no. Those glances were so far from unnoticed. Every miniscule thing on his part was taken into account.
His eyes were like pools that she could drown in, so deep and ominous, barring your entry to his thoughts, yet warm and inviting, promising untold love if the opportunity ever arose. His hair was silken and curled, full of vibrant bounce that tickled her to watch as the wind tousled it and he helplessly tried to keep it remotely neat. To be honest, she liked it tousled. She liked it very much.
His freedom, and the inspiration that he instilled within her at every little look, made her want to shout what she felt at the top of the mountains, to the face of the beast, made her want to whisper it quietly in his ear. Instead, she merely danced in the rain, being steadily lulled by the rhythm of the rain on her fragile soul.
A silent observor watched as she spun, the moisture that clung to her in the way that he only wished he could, flying off and landing in the sand to be absorbed and lost forever. Like they were. He feared that they would never be rescued, and if that were to be so, then lately he had been slowly coming to the conclusion that the only thing that he would need was her and he would be fine.
Everytime he saw her smile, something in him blossomed and exploded into a feeling that made himthink he could fly and it not be out of the ordinary. If she could make him feel like that with just a smile, then eye contact was pure ecstasy. Her hazel eyes were like a drug that he could lose himself in with just a glance.
When she laughed, he wanted to laugh. When she smiled, he wanted to smile. When she cried, he wanted to cry. When she was angry, he wanted to fix it. It was like he could not get enough of her.
Her skin was beautiful, even if being tanned to a crisp. He liked the way that it felt inder his fingertips, even if he had only touched her shoulder and brushed her hands on a couple of occassions. Coming into range of her scent was almost intoxicating, she smelled so good. He wanted to hold her and bury his nose in her hair, sheltering her with his soul and keeping her there, never to be harmed, and as he watched her twirl, spin, and glide, he knew that until that time came, when he knew it would, he would wait and watch.
Shannon liked to dance and Sayid...he was content to watch...for a while.