April 8th was approaching. It was going to be her 22nd birthday. Her 21st had passed by unnoticed on the island, and he had no intention of letting that happen this year. He loved her more than he'd ever thought possible. Once she'd lifted the restrictions on his feelings, he'd become even more consumed by her than he'd ever been, and he wanted to be sure that he'd make up for the non-event that her landmark birthday had been. He had something in mind, something he'd picked up from a chance remark she'd make several weeks before. A special gift, a new interest neither of them had tried before. As he'd often said to her, life was too short, he ought to know, so one of the lingering effects of what had happened to them was that they now wanted to try everything.
Her 21st birthday had had unexpected repercussions that they'd discovered during a visit to the family lawyer. On their return after being rescued, they'd gone to see the man to arrange for the release of some of the funds from Boone's not inconsiderable personal fortune; money he'd accumulated from before the trip to Sydney, plus the proceeds from the sale of his house. Sabrina had given instructions that the money be invested, and they wanted to find out just where they stood financially. The man had some surprising news for them, specifically for Shannon, however. Apparently her father had left her a sizeable sum of money that she'd come into on her 21st birthday. Sabrina hadn't been able to touch the funds without having her declared dead, which would have meant that she would have had to have had Boone declared dead, too, something she simply wasn't prepared to do. While Shannon was understandably pleased to find she had money of her own, she'd ended up rolling it into his, adding it to one of his investments, both of them knowing that anything either one of them had, was now theirs jointly.
The day of her birthday found them heading into the city in her car. He had his head bent, concentrating on the book he was reading. He knew that if he looked up, he'd find himself clutching white knuckled at the armrest as she deftly maneuvered the little car through traffic. Her driving scared the shit out of him, it always had. While he was ever cautious behind the wheel, observing speed limits and obeying all traffic rules, she constantly pushed the edge of the envelope and drove as if it was Le Mans.
"Where are we going?" she asked him again, looking in his direction.
Jesus, Shan, please keep your eyes on the road, he pleaded with her silently. "I'll give you more specific directions when we get closer," he hurriedly looked back down at his book after she swerved around a Mercedes that was going a little too slow for her liking.
Reaching the city, he directed her to their destination, a motorcycle dealership. She started to smile as she pulled the car into the parking lot. "You didn't," she grinned at him.
"Not yet. I wanted you to make the choice." He was pleased that he'd surprised her and that he'd been able to keep it a secret as long as he had.
She was out of the car almost before she'd turned it off. He followed her into the store. "Okay," she said looking around, "which ones should we get?"
"Ones? I was only planning on getting one." He was missing something here.
"I don't want to do this by myself, you idiot." She couldn't believe he'd be that stupid.
"I'm trying to do something nice for you, and now I'm an idiot. I was going to get one for both of us to ride…together." He explained.
"Well I sure hope you'll enjoy the back seat, because if you think I'm getting on a motorcycle with you driving, then you're even crazier than I usually give you credit for." She shook her head at him.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he felt unjustifiably insulted.
"Boone, things don't always turn out that great for you. I know you try, Jesus, do you try, but your track record's just not that good. Christ, you fell off your bicycle when you were 15!" There were several other examples of his failures that she could have cited, but she wasn't going to bring up falling asleep while on sentry duty or the whole falling out of a tree in a plane thing.
"Jenny Brown pushed me. It's not like I wasn't capable of riding a bicycle!" he responded indignantly.
"Yeah, okay, whatever." She waved off his protest, "So, Easy Rider, which ones are we going to get?"
They ended up relying on the salesman, who, after they explained to him that neither one of them had actually ever ridden a motorcycle before, directed them to a pair of smaller bikes. The guy also suggested several additions to the bikes, like windshields and saddle bags. They also picked out all the necessary accessories like helmets, jackets and boots that went with their new hobby. She laughed at the sight of him, dressed in black leather, so un-Boone like.
After paying for all of the stuff, and arranging for the delivery of the bikes, he took her out for a celebratory birthday dinner.
At the table he reached into his bag and pulled out an envelope. Placing it on the table he slid it towards her. "Happy Birthday, Shan."
She reached for the envelope and tore it open. Inside was a card with "Happy Birthday, Sis, All my love, Boone," in his precise and careful handwriting. Also enclosed was confirmation of their enrollment in a motorcycle riders' course. "You think of everything, don't you?" she felt close to tears at how much she loved him.
He dipped his head a bit, shyly, a little embarrassed, "I try."
The course was very intense and physically demanding. They were both in excellent shape, but anyone would have been exhausted after two days of what the instructors put them through. They both passed without a problem. When he found that out, Boone breathed a sigh of relief, he could not have lived it down if she'd passed and he hadn't.
Halfway home, they stopped by the side of the road for a break. He was still sitting on his bike when she came over and reached for the button on his jeans. "Shannon, what the hell are you doing?"
"Come on, you can't tell me you're more than a little turned on by the ride? This is California, no one will even notice." She explained her actions.
"No way, not a chance!" he protested.
"For a liberal, you're awfully conservative. Follow me then," she turned and disappeared into the woods.
He scrambled off the bike and followed her. A few yards into the forest she turned and removed her leather jacket, spreading it out on the ground. She undid her jeans, and, pushing them down to her ankles, lay back on the jacket. "Aren't you even going to take your boots off?" he asked her.
"Too much trouble, come here." She commanded.
He stepped between her knees and knelt on the ground. She reached up and finished undoing his pants, pushing them down. He lowered himself onto her. When they were done they lay quietly on the forest floor, until they suddenly heard the crunch of tires on gravel.
"Shit!" he pushed himself to his feet, pulling up his pants, and reaching a hand down to help her up. They headed towards the road to find a police car parked behind the two bikes. An officer was writing down the license plate numbers.
Boone ran a hand through his hair, "Officer?" he spoke, getting the man's attention.
"Hey folks, saw the bikes here, thought there might be a problem." He looked behind them into the woods, "What were you doing?"
Boone opened his mouth to answer with some fabricated excuse, but Shannon beat him to it, "We were having sex." Boone's cheeks immediately flushed red in embarrassment.
The man laughed, "I kind of thought that. You have a good day now." He returned to his car, still laughing, and drove away.
He turned to her, "I can't believe you actually said that!"
"What? You've always told me not to lie to the police," she replied nonchalantly.
He couldn't argue with that, he knew she was right.
They rode the bikes the rest of the way home to tell Tom and Heather the goods news about passing. Heather wasn't too concerned about Boone's safety on a motorcycle, but she had a bad feeling that one day Shannon would end up wrapping hers around a tree.
After dinner, and putting Andrew to bed, they'd gone into the den to read. Shannon sat on the couch and picked up her book, a newly released romance novel. He sat sideways, his back up against the armrest, his legs stretched across hers, the book of 17th century French history he'd started that week in his hand. He'd just gotten to the part about the soldiers taking possession of the farms, when he felt her book drop onto his knees. Startled, he looked up at her. Her eyes were closed and she was starting to slip sideways down the back of the couch towards him, the events of the past two days finally catching up with her. He marked his place and reached down putting his book on the floor. Sliding his legs under hers, he levered them up onto the couch, the movement causing her to finish her fall towards him. He squirmed them both down so that they were lying flat on the couch, his head on the pillow he'd had at his back; she was face down on his chest. "Mmm, what?" she murmured, the movement waking her. "Shush, go back to sleep." He gently kissed the top of her head. She slid her hands up to rest on his shoulders, snuggling into him. He crossed his arms across her back and felt his own eyes start to close, his breathing becoming deeper and more regular as he fell asleep as well.
Heather found them there several hours later, when she woke and wondered why the lights were still on in the upstairs hall. She pulled a blanket from the back of a chair and draped it over them, kissing each one of them and silently wishing them good night before turning off the lights and returning to bed.