They'd been living there for about a month when Heather asked Boone why he'd never invited his mother to see their new home, saying that she'd really like to meet her.
"You really want Sabrina Carlyle here? You really want to meet her?" He wasn't sure she knew what she was asking. He didn't think his mother was quite the monster that Shannon did, but he didn't have any illusions about her.
So he'd picked up his cell and invited her for dinner. He barely had time to push "end" when he knew he'd made a big mistake in not talking to Shannon before making the call. Damn, for all the times she had to pick up what he was thinking, it had to be now.
"Wait for it," Boone said, wincing and pointing at the door.
Heather looked at him confused until she heard the rapidly approaching footsteps. A furious Shannon burst into the room.
"Just what the hell have you done, Boone Carlyle?" she demanded.
"Shannon, she's just coming for dinner. We live here now, her grandson lives here, you can't possibly imagine that she'd never visit, I was just making it on our terms not hers." Boone was hoping that she'd see the sense of it and calm down.
"This was the one place that didn't have mother's presence stamped on it, the one place that was just ours." Boone knew she was well past pissed now, Shannon never referred to Sabrina as her mother unless she was incensed. "What an asshole you are, Boone."
The tension that they'd both been under, that had bubbled just below the surface for well over a year now, both on the island and after being rescued, suddenly erupted. The situation quickly deteriorated after that.
"You are such a self centred bitch," he responded.
"And you're a sanctimonious bastard," she threw back.
They scaled the fight up into a full out brother/sister screaming match, hurling insults back and forth at one another, as years of practice took over.
"Thieving little whore," he accused.
"Fucking stupid loser," she sneered.
There was more. Heather couldn't believe the extremity of some of the epithets they yelled at one another.
"Go fuck yourself, Shannon," Boone spat, several minutes later. His face was flaming red, and they were both breathing hard.
"I hate you! Go to hell, Boone!" She raised her right hand to slap him, putting all the weight of her body into it. He grabbed her wrist in mid air, before she could land the blow.
As soon as she realized that Shannon intended to hit Boone, Heather knew she had to intervene. "Children, stop this right now," she commanded, stepping into the role of mother, drawing on the experience she'd gotten stopping fights between her own children, though certainly none of those fights had been as bad as this one.
She turned to the instigator. "Shannon, apologize to your brother, this instant."
Shannon was staring at him open mouthed, eyes wide. The tension suddenly left her body, and he let go of her wrist. There were red marks from the imprint of his fingers, an indication of just how hard he been holding it.
She looked at him, horrified, seconds away from tears. "Jesus, Boone, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean…oh, my god, I'm so sorry." She burst into tears and turned and ran from the room.
Boone fumbled behind himself for his chair and sat down heavily, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders started to shake, and Heather knew he was crying as well.
Tom stuck his head in the door. "What happened? I heard all the yelling, and then Shannon ran out the front door crying."
Heather moved out into the hall, leaving Boone alone. "They were fighting over Boone's mother coming for dinner. But that's such a trivial thing to get so upset about, I'm certain there was more to it. I've watched them the past month, seen the stress they try to hide. Maybe they need to talk to someone or maybe they just need to get away, relax, have some fun, be with people their own age, start to try and put everything they've been through behind them." She glanced at Tom, "Shannon was actually going to hit him," she finished, shaking her head at the very thought of it.
"Shannon? Hit Boone? Never. She loves that boy to distraction," Tom was incredulous.
"I know. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. Do you know where she went?" Heather asked.
"I think she's sitting on the beach, at least she was headed that way." Tom guessed.
"I'll go see if Boone's composed himself enough yet to go out and talk to her." Heather turned to go back into the office.
She found him still sobbing miserably. She stroked his hair and, at her touch, he leaned forward in his chair pressing his head against her, circling his arms around her waist like a child. When he'd recovered enough to be able to speak, he asked, "How could I have done that? How could I have said all those things to her I didn't mean. She'll never speak to me again. God, I wish I'd stayed dead."
"Boone, don't you ever say that again!" Heather admonished him. She continued, "But you need to pull yourself together, you need to go and talk to her right now. And then, we all need to talk."
He managed to get it together after that and had wandered slowly down to the beach, afraid to approach Shannon, afraid of her rejection.
He stood uncertainly beside where she sat in the sand, her arms around her knees, her face hidden. She sensed his presence, and raised her tear stained face to stare out across the water. "You must hate me."
"No Shan, I don't, I never could." He paused, "I was afraid to come out here, though, that you'd tell again how much you hate me, like you just did inside." He spoke softly.
"I don't, not really, you know." She spoke equally gently, still looking out at the lake. "What happened in there, Boone? How did it all get so wrong, so crazy, so fast? I completely lost control, I couldn't stop myself; it scared me." She glanced quickly up at him, still afraid to meet his eyes. She noticed he'd been crying too. She smiled a small brief smile at him, before looking away again. He took it as an invitation to sit. He lowered himself to the ground, careful to keep a few inches between them, careful not to look at her.
"Heather wants to talk to us." He tried to change the subject, still too hurt; too frightened, to continue talking about what had happened, even though he knew they should.
Shannon sighed, "She probably wants to tell us that they're leaving. Who could blame them after that? Are we gonna be okay do you think?"
"I don't know. I sure hope so. I spent twelve lonely years loving you before you loved me back. That'd be a lot of time to spend waiting if our relationship doesn't even survive to a year and a half."
They sat quietly for a few minutes, each locked up in their own thoughts, careful to guard what they were thinking from each other.
"We should go back inside, find out what they want." Boone stood, brushing the sand from his hands. He held one out to her to help her up. He waited to see if she'd take it. She reached out and grabbed it just long enough to rise to her feet. She crossed her arms in front of her, tucking her hands up in her armpits, hanging her head again. He turned to lead the way back to the store. They walked slowly, each of them bowed under by the load of guilt they carried.
Five o'clock found them all gathered around the kitchen table. Boone held Andrew on his lap, playing absently with the baby, waving some toy he'd pick up at random it front of the child. Neither Boone nor Shannon were looking at one another. Tom was struck at how impossibly young they both were to have been through so much.
"Look guys," Tom started, "we love you both like you were our own kids. And we're worried about you, for obvious reasons. Has anyone ever suggested that you talk to someone?"
Shannon answered, "Jack mentioned that some of us might benefit from seeing a psychologist, but there's so much weird stuff we couldn't say, not without reprisals, that he wasn't sure if he should actually recommend it. I mean, who would believe some of the bizarre stuff that happened, without trying to convince us that it was part of a delusion. We might end up even more screwed up than we already are."
Tom and Heather considered the truth of what she was saying. "How about going away for a bit? Relaxing, lying in the sun, on a safe beach, going out with people your own age, partying? We'll take care of Andrew for you." Heather offered.
"Going away? We just got back," Boone protested, but wondered if it wasn't such a bad idea.
"But it wasn't like you were away on a year's vacation. It started with a plane crash and was incredibly dangerous and stressful, every day. And then when you got back, you just threw yourselves into trying to recreate normal lives, without giving any thought to just taking some time trying to deal with it." Heather tried to explain the reasoning behind their suggestion, "If you won't talk to anyone, and I understand your reservations, then you need some down time."
Boone glanced at Shannon then, to see what her reaction was to the idea. She was finally looking at him. She nodded her head slightly, thinking, yeah, we could do that.
"Okay, then," he agreed. "Just leave the idea with us for a bit."
They went to bed that night, lying as far from one another as the bed would allow, still not prepared to resume the same closeness. Waking in the morning, Shannon found herself in her usual position, pressed up against his left side, her arm across his chest, his, around her shoulder. She must have moved there, unconsciously, in the night. She knew he was already awake. She thought back to the whole vacation idea that they'd agreed to. Where would we go, she wondered?
"Mexico," he answered.
"Why not someplace more exotic?" she questioned, they had almost unlimited funds and choices, why someplace so close?
"We could drive there, no flying involved," he explained with a little laugh. "Besides, it's a nice place. I've been there several times on business, but never for pleasure. I've got lots of contacts, I'm sure on such short notice I could still get us a really nice suite, with an ocean view."
She moved to look at him. "We could talk in the car on the way down."
"Yeah, we could. I think we should, that we need to. I love you, Shan, I always will, but we need to work some things out. Heather was right, we have a lot to deal with, a lot we need to talk about, before we can move on, and start to put the island behind us," he searched her eyes.
She smiled at him and moved up to kiss him, gently. "We'll be alright," she said with certainty.
"I know."