Shannon
For a change it was Shannon's turn to look out for him. He was always looking out for her, even when she kept him at a distance. He paid careful attention to her needs, as she struggled to help launch the raft, struggled to carry luggage across the beach, struggled to come to terms with Boone's death, struggled to breathe. He was always there, keeping an eye out, making sure the struggle didn't completely consume her.
He looked exhausted when he returned with Charlie and Aaron. Yet he had never looked better to her. He was home and unhurt. He just needed some rest. She promised she would wait for Kate and Jack to return from the hatch. She would wake him immediately as long as he promised to close his eyes for a short time. Sayid looked peaceful now as he slept, the worried expression gone from his face.
It had been a long time since he looked even remotely relaxed. Not since the night before Boone's death, when he told her he had "hopes not expectations." Even now, it made her smile. He had no idea how much that simple phrase meant to her. Everyone in Shannon's life had expectations: Sabrina, Boone, her first husband, the endless parade of men she entertained. They all expected her to be, and look, and act the role of pretty little rich girl. Her "dates" certainly expected the sex that almost always followed. He was different. He had hopes. Maybe she could have them too.
She thought back to the first time she noticed him, really noticed him. Long before they talked about translating maps or bowline knots. Jack asked her if she could stop tanning long enough to get Sayid some bottled water. He was chopping wood in the jungle and in danger of dehydrating in the afternoon sun. Jack shot her a look that needed no explanation. Try being useful for a change, Shannon.
She came upon the clearing where Sayid was working. It was oppressively hot. Thank God he was willing to chop the wood for the signal fire because there was no way she would even bother to try. He hadn't seen her yet. He was too engrossed in whacking the hell out of a piece of wood. She wouldn't want to be the one to piss this guy off. What was Sawyer thinking?
He raised his arms high above his head. She couldn't help but notice that he had great shoulders. He groaned as the axe came down with a shattering blow. His mocha skin glistened in the afternoon sun as he raised his arms again.
This time his t-shirt rode up just high enough to expose the dark hairs around his navel. The sweat dripping down his chest followed the line of hair past his abdomen. She found herself following the droplet as it moved ever lower. He called out her name, just in the nick of time, before she found herself totally immersed in the fantasy.
Sayid asked if the bottle she held out was for him. "He was in dire need of some refreshment." She liked the way he spoke. His speech was so formal. It made him sound like he just stepped out of a 1950's movie, Casablanca maybe. He thanked her for the water.
As he reached to take the bottle with one hand, the other pulled the hem of his t-shirt up to wipe the moisture on his face, once again exposing his dark toned body. He brought the bottle to his lips. He closed his eyes as he quenched his thirst. Shannon drew in a deep breath, realizing for the first time that her own thirst needed quenching.
Funny how that memory stayed with her. What was it she felt for him that afternoon? Lust probably. She certainly didn't know him well enough for it to have been anything else. What did she feel for him now?
She gently touched his face taking great care not to wake him. She was afraid to name it. Whatever this feeling was she didn't want it to stop. With any luck maybe he could feel something for her again. For now she was content to watch over him as he slept. Tomorrow would be a new beginning.
