Disclaimer: Characters and "Lost" are JJ Abram's and ABC's. I do not claim ownership over anything but the story itself.

Grief

"Shannon?" Rings in my ears. Aside from the high-pitched buzzing, it's the only think I've heard in hours. I look up, but find the man in my line of vision obscured by tears I hadn't recalled shedding. I hastily wipe them, blinking several times.

" I brought you a drink. Its hot out…" Jack said to me softly, barely above a whisper. His voice cracked and he coughed a bit. I think he was deciding weather or not to leave me alone, or try not to seem like a jerk and try to console me. He stood there for a minute, towering above my hunched form.

"Are… you alright?" He finally asks. His tone of voice tells me he knows the answer and doesn't expect me to tell him yes, but he feels he needs to ask. I realize that I haven't moved since I threw myself down in this very spot, hours ago now. No one had dared approach me. For this I was thankful. I didn't want anyone on the earth to see me muffling enraged, agonized sobs into my hands or crying at the sky, mouthing incoherent curses to God himself for taking Boone.

I just look at him. My usual expression of "are you kidding?" or "yes, I'm fine and I don't need you asking" failed me. Anything refused to register on my face. After a moment of silence looking into Jack's eyes, reaching out to me , acknowledging my pain with his own , I felt the muscles in my face contort a little. My mouth tightened and turned downwards and an involuntary noise grew in my throat. I turned my head away. I dreaded the feel of his hand on mine or the sympathetic noise most people would undoubtedly dish out. But when I opened my eyes, he was gone. That's when I realized Jack felt some of my pain too. At least he understood it. He knew enough that it was not yet time to try and make me feel better. I knew nothing ever could.

All I can think of is Boone. The good times, the bad times, and all the times he came to my rescue. All the times he showed up, fists clenched, prepared to save the damsel in distress from whatever sticky situation I had entangled myself in. More often than not with a guy. I always could count on him to swoop down and pick me out of the mess I had made. Now I thought of his lifeless body, of the fact that I would never see his chiseled face or sharp, steel gray eyes focus on me again twisted me inside.

I felt like screaming. Screaming in rage, in anguish, just plain screaming for all I was worth. I considered laying in the hot sand, pounding my hands and feet on the ground like a child who didn't get her way. I felt like running and running until my heart stopped or I just flung myself into the ocean, where the tides would carry me Away. Or just pull me under, where I could sleep in the deep darkness and never have to think about Boone again, like I still would if I was at Away. I realize that by doing what I want I would hurt myself. I either needed to shut down, or explode. I tried very hard to shut myself off. There we go. Good. I told myself. Don't think about it! My mind would whisper when a memory of him came to me. I shut my eyes and willed my stomach muscles to stop heaving. My adrenaline to stop spurting in panic. I stopped moving my hands, feet, fingers…, lowering myself to lay flat on my stomach, my head propped up by my folded arms so I could breathe the shaded area. I willed myself to stupor, to a haze. To a thoughtless abyss that was all my own.

The next thing I remember is waking up with a sunburn and the feeling of dried tears on my face. At first I was sure to recall nothing, as this might release the dam I had built for everything. I tried out my surroundings bit by bit. I was in a sitting position, propped up on pillows. I was also in the shade, which I was thankful for. The sunburn wasn't too bad in here. I looked to my side and saw Sawyer sitting a few feet away from me- intent on a piece of driftwood he was whittling. He noticed I had woken (or regained consciousness, it felt like) and set the wood on his lap. His usual look of mock surprise didn't pass over his face. No comments, and no nicknames were thrown at me. Instead he held my gaze for a moment. He nodded towards me and then focused back on the wood, not picking it up or carving at it with the knife anymore, just looking at it, his brows knit together in an expression I couldn't entirely figure out.

"You. .you uh, are only here for now, don't worry. It's the best place because its shady and Jack and I decided there are no sympathetic onlookers around like there would be up at the caves." He looked back up at me. I almost nodded, thankful that they hadn't dragged me off to a cave where people could stare at me and wait for me to start sobbing while filling up a water bottle or something. People were like that. Cruel in their sympathy. Not realizing it would be much kinder if they didn't stare or completely avert their gazes.

"Where's Sayid?" I manage to croak out. I realize my throat is completely parched. I must not have taken a drink in 24 hours. Sawyer must have seen me unsticking my throat because he got up and handed me a bottle of water. I drank a little, sputtered, and he took it away. I wiped my mouth and reached for more. He held the bottle for me and I satisfied my thirst, drinking deeply. My sunburn stung. He twisted the cap back on when I was finished and set it in the cooler.

He suddenly remembered my question .

"He went to go get some medication that Jack said you should take. He'll be back soon but Jack wanted to give Sayid the directions since he'll be with you most. So I stayed here with you, peaches." He says kindly.

"Medication?" I ask, uncertainly.

"You're awake!" Sayid says. I turn and find him striding towards the tent, clutching a paper bag in his left hand. I stare at it suspiciously but he sets it down as soon as he enters the Sawyer's shady tent and kneels beside me. He takes my face in his hands, and I find they are strong and cool. I relish the touch, which soothes my sunburn. Then a memory, sharp, clear and unbidden, flies to my mind. I'm standing in a dark kitchen, leaning back onto the counter, trying my best not to shout. I was angry at Boone for coming when I hadn't asked him, for trying to take me back home with him from where I was staying in California with a guy, Mike. He hadn't been treating me well, and somehow Boone had known. I was so pissed at the time… What right did he have to come bursting into my life and try to fix everything? Mike was away for the day, and it was just Boone and I in the dark, dreary little kitchen. Boone had taken his hands and placed them on my cheeks like Sayid was doing now.

"Shannon. He doesn't deserve you.. Come home." And I did.

When I again focused on the present, Sayid was staring into my eyes, disturbed by what he saw. But as the wisps of memory drifted away, I looked from a concerned Sayid to a intent Sawyer. Sayid pulled out the bag, holding up a bottle of pills.

"I'm not taking those." I announce. He looks at me, looks at the bottle, and sighs.

" We think it would be best that you do."

"We?" I ask, crossing my arms over my stomach stubbornly.

"Jack.. and I." He sighs again.

"Well I don't think you thought of-" I stat to say, but Sayid grips my arm firmly but gently, holding me down and pleading with me with his eyes for me not to object. I am shocked as he opened the bottle and holds on to my mouth, which I firmly clamp shut. What is this! Why is Sayid trying to force feed me pills that I don't want to take? What are they? I know he is only trying to help, and not harm me because I trust him, but I'm enraged that he would try to force them on me.

"Shannon.. Please…" He pries at my lips with his forefinger, and I shake my head wildly. His grip becomes stronger, and he gets rougher.

Eventually I rip my arm away from his grip and tear out into the sunlight. I run past several people who turn and look back at me and my urgent sprinting. I don't know if Sayid or Sawyer is following me, but I turn and crash over the sand, barefoot, towards the farthest end of the beach I can see.

A/N : Totally random, and written in a state of sheer boredom... So tell me what you think! A one shot? Mayyyyybe... Maybe not. Convince me if I should go on with it or not.