Title: Hot Child
Author: Lazuli
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Lost is owned by that glorious bastard, J.J. Abrams. Love you, sugarplum.
Summary: A mercilessly hot day on the island inspires Shannon Rutherford to "take a day off". Swims, laziness, and hanging around the men of the island seem like a perfect way to pass the time. More importantly, she wants to know why Sayid has been avoiding her…
Chapter 8
"…Alone at Last"
She leaned her forehead against the rocks, absorbing their natural coolness. The surface, while hard to the touch, provided her with enough stability so that she wouldn't fall over into a dead heap. It was nice to get out of the heat, somewhere she could relatively be alone for awhile. A place where she could collect her thoughts, channel her emotions, try out that Zen crap that Locke had seemingly mastered. Anything to stop her stomach from it's constant, never-ending flip-flopping, and the dizzying whirlwind that she currently referred to as "her mind".
No. She could feel the panic rising in her. Breathe in and out. Jack had made it a point afterwards to tell others not to let her engage in strenuous activity. While it was a nice gesture, and one befitting of a doctor, it had only encouraged everyone's perception of her as someone weak, someone helpless. A title that she did not care for at all.
If there was one thing that Shannon Rutherford was not, it was weak.
She gulped down some air, then reached with trembling fingers to unscrew her water bottle. Drinking deeply, she felt herself calm down with every sip she swallowed, until she could look around the small cave without being subject to dizzying spots and that unbearable feeling of tightness in her chest. The cave was dry, shady, and provided several nice cubbyholes to put things. She bit her tongue softly, letting her senses absorb her surroundings. If Shannon wasn't happy with her current shelter on the beach, then she would totally pick up everything and move here.
Actually, that wasn't such a bad idea. Charlie and Claire called the caves, "home", and she'd be out of that horrible sun. If she ever needed medical assistance, Jack and Sun were nearby, and everyone seemed a lot less frenetic than they did at the beach. Hell, any place that got her away from the accusing eyes of her step-brother would do good. If the caves didn't work out, she had half a mind to go bunk with the polar bear.
Shannon giggled, then quieted. She already knew that no matter how good she made this place out to be, she could never leave the beach. Though she and Boone fought constantly, she couldn't deny that she felt somewhat comforted by his presence. Plus, her blossoming friendship with Sawyer was a much-needed relief; as infuriating as the charismatic Southerner was, he was a lot like her. Shannon liked his company. If only she could convince Charlie to move down to the beach, life on the island would be a hell of a lot better. But Charlie would never be happy with her and Sawyer, and would forever be running back to the caves to check on Claire.
There was another reason she would never leave the beach. Because he lived there.
Shannon had never thought that she could be extremely excited, yet seriously dreading one evening. Her fingers skimmed over the mesh bag containing her outfit and makeup. This is such a bad idea. Maybe Boone was right. Maybe she would never change, always be manipulative and sneaky with men, using others to get what she wanted. But in this case, the others…wanted to be involved. Charlie, Claire, Sawyer…they WANTED to be included in this screwed-up version of "The Dating Game". It was like a dance, her and him. They circled each other, always following routine, a safe pattern, not wanting to fall out of line. The smiling, the flirting, the touching, the agonizing burn of his eyes….all steps. Just once, Shannon wanted to tear down the obstacle in front of them, rip it to shreds, and pour herself onto his body. What a sight they would make, a tangle of limbs and skin, her light and his dark. Would he be gentle, patient, and slow? Or would their obsession erupt in an intense culmination of passion, rough and fast, not caring if it hurts, just wanting to connect, wanting to feel each other. Wanting to taste-
"Shannon."
She spun around.
He stood at the entrance to the cave, one hand on the wall that she had sought refuge from the blinding heat. Shannon felt her breath stop momentarily, then willed herself to calm down.
"Hi," she managed to get out, reaching for any semblance for normalcy she could find. Her fingers found her water bottle, and she again took a deep gulp, pacifying the delighted screaming in her head. Sayid was blocking out the setting sun, which caused his shadow to be thrown into the small cave, enveloping her in darkness. How freaking symbolic.
"I'm sorry to bother you," God, his voice was beautiful. The lilting accent, the way he stumbled over certain words. It sent a telltale shiver down her spine, a motion that she knew he couldn't miss.
"Oh, it's okay, I wasn't doing anything important." She reassured him, dragging her wet tongue across her dry lips. His own parted at the sight. The dance had begun.
"I assume," he continued, stepping down from the entrance, and came closer to her, "that you are getting ready for tonight." The cautious step. The safe movement of a waltz.
Shannon nodded, "Claire and I kind of went a little crazy down at the beach. Well, I went crazy. She just watched and shook her head a lot," he let a small chuckle slip past his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"So," she continued, allowing herself another dance step, "you ARE going, right?" He didn't answer, just reached down and picked up the water bottle she had placed at her feet. Looking at her, Sayid tilted it, asking her permission to take a sip.
"Go ahead," Shannon said. He muttered an almost inaudible thanks, and placed the bottle at his lips, taking a swig. A place where her own lips had rested a minute before. The mere idea almost set off an explosion in her mind.
Dig if you will, the picture, of you and I engaged in a kiss.
Goddamn Prince.
"What is in the bag?" he asked innocently, handing the bottle back to her. She noticed that he was careful to avoid touching her fingers. It was a movement she wasn't prepared for.
"Some stuff I was going to wear tonight," she shrugged, turning her back to retrieve the bag, "Clothes…some makeup, girl stuff." She allowed her eyes to drift up to meet his, "Want to see?" He shook his head.
"Those are meant for Sawyer," he muttered, more to himself than to her, as if he was stating a reminder more than a fact. Shannon fought the impulse to let her lips curve into a smile. Sawyer was right. He was jealous. Incredibly jealous. She had been around enough men in her life to recognize the signs and the destructive nature of jealousy. It could, it would, eat at your heart, gnaw at every aspect of your soul until you became a possessive and envious monster.
"Did you hear what he said to me?" her voice was on the verge of shaking, she tried to play it off as laughter instead of the nervousness it really was, "He told me to 'wear something short and easy to take off'," she rolled her eyes, "What a jerk."
"Are you?" he asked suddenly, looking like he wanted nothing more than to snatch the bag she held in her hands. She felt the butterflies in her stomach. Their gentle dance was transforming from a soft waltz to a sensual tango. Shannon parried with a dangerous move of her own.
"That'd be telling," she responded demurely. Goddamnit, why were her lips dry every five seconds? She'd have to ask Sawyer if he had managed to horde some Chapstick.
His eyes were merciless. She knew he had tortured Sawyer for her asthma medicine, that he had been an interrogator for the Republican Guard in Iraq. This man had stared down Death. How many lives had ended at his hands? How many had screamed themselves hoarse, begging him for pity, for compassion. And being a soldier, she knew that he would not relent until they gave him what they wanted. Sawyer still massaged his fingernails once in awhile, and she had seen him stare viciously at Sayid while doing so. She suddenly found it frightening that while the man before her was a deliverer of pain and anguish, she wanted nothing more than to let those once-bloodied and dangerous hands passionately roam and explore her body. The thought was scary, but thrilling.
"I wish you would not go," he whispered, "I wish you would not go with him," Shannon couldn't even pretend to be flirty anymore. She felt like she was drowning in his eyes. He reached up and slowly dragged a piece of blonde hair across her bare shoulder. The butterflies had turned into bats. She felt the sexy tango music in her head suddenly switch to an intense and passionate bolero. Never in her entire existence had she ever wanted someone so badly. It was like he systematically stripped and peeled every wall she carefully constructed around herself. It was a triumph that no one, not even Boone, could claim.
She wondered what he would do if she kissed him.
"Sayid," she let the word hang in the air between them. His finger was twirling her blonde hair, tantalizingly brushing her neck. She knew it wasn't a nervous habit, he had played with her hair before, laughing and telling her that it reminded her of sunlight. That Sayid was friendly, and open, and kind, a man that was easy to understand. Now, he was slow, and he was deliberate, and he was mysterious, and every action he performed was excruciating for her to bear. She had never seen this side of him before.
He let his finger slowly touch her neck, and she stifled a gasp. He looked deeply into her eyes, and she knew. He wasn't mad at her.
He was seducing her.
And she wanted him to.
"Please," she couldn't hide the word, it slipped out. His dark eyes, which were deep with emotion before, now burned with a scorching fire. The fire she had been so afraid to touch, but presently, wanted nothing more than to throw herself in. The bolero was consuming, and she felt her lips tilt up towards his, her eyes closing, waiting for that final note to play so that she could end this foolish dance once and for all…
"SHANNON!"
"Jesus CHRIST!" Shannon shrieked, grabbed her bag, and ran out of the cave at full speed, leaving a heaving and confused Sayid behind.
Outside
"SHUT UP!" Claire yelled hysterically at Boone, throwing an old shoe at his back. It caught him right in the middle, and he doubled over in pain, before turning around and glaring at her.
"What the hell are you doing?" He shouted, rubbing where she had hit him, "Son of a bitch, Claire, that hurt!" Claire tried in vain to struggle to her feet, but Charlie beat her to it.
"Shannon's…er, a little busy," he explained, "She's running around trying to get her things together, and we didn't want to disturb her," he turned and stared helplessly at Claire. She was still immersed in glaring at Boone.
"Arse," she mumbled venomously. Boone still looked confused, but was distracted from following it up when his sister ran out of a cave, her face red, looking as if she'd run a marathon.
"What?" she demanded clearly annoyed. Boone rounded on her.
"Why the hell is everyone saying that you're going to Hurley's luau with Sawyer?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. Shannon slung her bag up higher on her shoulder.
"He's my friend," she said defensively, "He asked me, and I said yes. It's not like he's my new boy toy or something." Boone stepped closer.
"I really don't like the thought of him with you," he told her, crossing his arms, "Dammit, Shannon, he's a liar and a cheat. He lied about having your medicine, even after Sayid tortured him about it." Boone suddenly looked over her shoulder at something. Shannon turned, and saw that Sayid had just emerged from the cave where they had just been talking.
"At last," Sayid said, putting his hands in his pockets and walking over to the blonde and her brother, "Boone and I have found something we agree on." Boone stared at him for a second, as if he couldn't believe that Sayid had just sided with him on a topic, especially one that involved Shannon.
"You were right when you called him a liar," Sayid calmly stated, "And I believe that his intentions towards Shannon are not honorable." Shannon gaped wordlessly, not trusting her own ears. She was used to Sayid not trusting Sawyer, but taking the same stance as Boone? It would have been funny if it weren't so damn tragic. Boone rotated back towards her.
"You see," he stated triumphantly, "Even Sayid thinks it's a bad idea. Shannon, if you do this, and he hurts you in some way, don't you dare come crying to me." Boone bit his lip, and moved closer.
"Can't you just tell him 'No'?" his voice had a pleading tone to it. Shannon instantly felt a wave of guilt wash over her. No matter how irritating Boone could get, she knew that he wanted the best for her. That's why it was so hard to do this. However, before she could get a word out, Sawyer stepped out from the jungle, and sauntered over to them.
"Hey now," he held up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender, "I can tell a nasty situation when I see one." Sawyer pointed a finger at Sayid and Boone, "These two bothering you, darlin'?" Shannon looked at her brother, who was too busy glaring furiously at Sawyer. She turned her attention to Sayid, who acted like the other man hadn't even said anything. He serenely looked back at her.
"Hey," Sawyer addressed Sayid, "Heard an interesting tidbit of information from Kate about you." He switched his backpack from one shoulder to the next. Sayid finally pivoted.
"About what?" he asked, his voice low and somewhat deadened.
"She seems to be under the impression," Sawyer raised his voice a little, "that you ain't up to providing us with the pleasure of your company tonight." Shannon's eyes widened.
"Is that true?" She asked shakily. This wasn't fun anymore. This was real and it was hurting people. Sayid was silent for a few moments, then reached down and picked up the bag he had left at the entrance, fully aware that all the eyes of the small group were on him. He straightened, heaved the back over his shoulder, and glanced at Sawyer.
"She was misinformed," he stated calmly, and walked out into the jungle. Boone glared at her, and then took off in the opposite direction. The four remaining survivors didn't speak for a second, until Claire let out a whoosh of breath she'd been holding.
"Wow," she said. Shannon slumped on the ground.
"This is getting ridiculous," she stated. Sawyer ran his hand through his hair, the smile on his face completely gone, replaced by a look of seriousness.
"What'd you do to make yourself such a hot commodity, Sticks?" he complained, and set his load on the ground. Charlie walked over to Shannon.
"Need anything?" he asked softly. Shannon shook her head.
"Other than being catapulted off this island and into a land where the word 'Man' doesn't exist?" she let her bitchiness shine through, but stopped herself, "I'm okay, Charlie." He patted her on the back, about to say something else, when Kate and Sun walked through the brush, and stopped.
"What are you guys waiting for?" Kate asked impatiently, "The luau just started, and everybody's headed down to the beach." Sawyer stretched his arms above his head.
"Don't get your panties in a twist, Freckles," he smirked, "I'll show up soon." Kate stared at him in disgust, then continued with Sun down the grass. Shannon bolted to her feet, then ran over and dragged up Claire. She turned to Sawyer and Charlie.
"Give us a half hour," she promised. Sawyer shook his head.
"Take your time," he drawled, "This is a moment that I want to savor."
At the beach
The survivors milled around, talking and laughing, picking up pieces of fruit off the makeshift table, and enjoying the sounds of the guitars that filled the air. The Spanish woman and her husband had made good on their promise, and proved to be adept musicians.
"Man, if I didn't know any better," Jack commented to Michael, "I'd swear we were in Cancun on Spring Break." Michael arched an eyebrow, giving Jack a disbelieving look.
"You went on Spring Break?" he asked skeptically. Jack was insulted.
"Of course I did!" he exclaimed, "Junior year of medical school. One of the best weeks of my life." Michael still didn't buy it.
"Somehow, I can't picture you knocking back tequila shooters off of senoritas," he responded. Walt scurried up behind them.
"What's that mean?" he asked naively. Michael looked panicked for a second, but was saved by Hurley's intervention.
"All right, everybody," He yelled. The beach quieted down, and the survivors focused their attention on Hurley. He looked nervous for a second, but swallowed his fear and continued.
"Now, I know these past two months have sucked hardcore, and we all hate this island," a couple of people shouted their agreements, "But still, that's no reason to be depressed about it. I mean, we're all good people…" his eyes traveled over Jack, Kate, Locke, and several others, "…and we all just need to stick together, and help each other. Because we're not going to be here forever, but while we are, we're going to at least be cool about it." A few, "hear, hears!" could be heard. Hurley grinned.
"Cause even though this situation blows," he continued, "I really can't think of other people I'd rather be stuck on an island with," he paused, "Well, we could use a lot more girls." Kate threw a banana peel at him to the sounds of laughter, "I'm kidding!"
"I'm inclined to agree with you," Michael said out loud. Hurley saluted him.
"So anyways, that said, I'm officially declaring the start of the first ever Island Luau!" he announced, "And if I could have everybody else join me, I'd like to welcome our guest Luau chief for the night," Hurley turned, "Walter Lloyd!"
The applause was deafening, as the young boy sheepishly made his way to the front of the crowd with his dog. Hurley clapped along with the rest of them, then planted a makeshift crown of leaves on his head. "Sun made it," he explained, "So Walt, as Luau chief for the night, what is your first order of business? I'd say drinks, but Jack would probably behead me." Jack nodded, clearly in good spirits. Walt looked at the huge boar that Locke was tenderly roasting.
"FOOD!" he yelled out, and the hungry audience showed their approval. Hurley directed Walt to the main makeshift table, seating himself on one side and Michael on the other, as Rose and others passed out various fruits and other island "delicacies". Locke gave the spit one last twist, then settled himself down next to Jin and Boone to enjoy the feast. Soon, the air was filled with chatter and munching.
Hurley surveyed the area with a happy smile on his face. This was exactly what he had wanted. All the survivors were getting to know each other, and establishing friendships that would help ease the pain of being lost. Though there were a few saddened smiles here and there, most were enchanted by the evening, coupled with the beauty of the night, the blaze of the torches, and with Vincent joyously sniffing out food from one group to another, greedily eating the scraps they all discreetly tried to feed him.
One face, however, stood out among the rest. Hurley was still well aware of what had happened to Sayid, and he felt bad for the man. Sitting between Jack and Kate, across from Michael, he was somewhat comforted by the fact that the other three were slowly trying to coax a happy mood out of the obviously depressed man. Not to mention the fact that there were four faces still noticeable absent from the festivities. Hurley admitted to himself that he was quite anxious about what would happen once the missing four would show up, and he wondered how Sayid would respond to it.
"I gotta say," Michael commented, his voice slightly muffled with the fruit, "As much as I hate to admit it, this beats the stuff I used to get at the grocery in NYC by a long shot."
"I highly, highly, concur," Jack said, and bit into his piece of passion fruit, "And that boar isn't helping my situation any. Hey Locke," he leaned back to look at the group closest to them, "You planning on driving up crazy with the way that boar smells or what?" The older man lifted a hand.
"Gotta wait till she turns a little more pink," he yelled back. Jack turned to Kate.
"Vegetarian," he shook his head, "You're insane." She looked miffed.
"Oh, shut it, Shephard," she teased, and ruffled his hair. The others laughed, as Jack swatted her hand out of the way.
"So what else are we doing tonight?" Walt asked excitedly, "Can I show everyone how I can throw knives?" Michael coughed, and gave Walt a look of fatherly disapproval. Walt, in the manner of every ten-year old, studiously ignored him.
"Come on! Mr. Locke and Mr. Sayid can help me!" he continued. Hearing his name, Sayid looked up.
"And what makes you think I can throw knives as well as Mr. Locke can?" He asked, his gloomy features showing a hint of sunlight. Walt shrugged.
"Cause my dad said you were in the army. And army guys know how to do that kind of stuff." Sayid laughed, and shook his head.
"Indeed we do," he said, "If your father will not object, then I would be happy to assist."
"Um," Michael started to raise his voice, but was quieted by the pleasure on his son's face.
"Great!" Walt said, then stuffed another piece of fruit in his mouth. He chewed it fast, then swallowed and addressed Hurley again, "So what are we really doing next?" Hurley looked at Jack.
"So you're really serious about that 'No Alcohol' thing?" he asked in a teasing tone. Jack opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off.
"Now, what kind of a party would it be," a sardonic voice cut through them all, "If we didn't have the pure pleasure of liquor?" Everyone looked up. Jack and Kate followed the voice, then immediately looked at Sayid, who had visibly tensed at the sight before him.
Charlie, Claire, Sawyer, and Shannon had arrived.
End Chapter Eight.
Author's Noted: Sorry for the delay, kids. Here's something to hold you over while we agonizingly wait for those endless weeks of repeats to pass.
Make Mommy happy. Read and Review!
