Sayid didn't see the message light on the phone flashing until he got out of the shower. He picked up the receiver, expecting Nadia's voice. Instead, he heard Shannon, obviously having been drinking. He listened to her recite the details about Boone's memorial service and hung up the phone. He wrote the day and time down on the notepad from the night stand. It wasn't likely he would forget, but it seemed like something he should write down.
He sat heavily on the bed and ran his hands through his damp hair. Of course he would go, but what would he say? It would be the first time he had seen her since she walked out. He sighed and paced around the motel room. Had he used Shannon? That had never been his intention. When he made the decision to stop isolating himself on the island and start trusting people, Shannon had been there. After Rousseau he needed her. After Boone's death, she needed him. He didn't regret what they had shared, but he was sorry for the pain it brought her now. Hurting her was the last thing he wanted. But this had hurt her, he knew. Now he would have to face her. Would the pain he caused be there in her eyes, or would the mask of indifference she wore so well have slipped back into place? He didn't know which would be worse.
As he got ready to go back to Nadia's he thought about the last few days. Even a week ago he could not have imagined this scenario. In an odd sense, he was happy. The prospect of being a father and getting to know Yasmin, thrilled him. The rekindling of his relationship with Nadia was everything he had hoped for during his years of searching. And yet, there was a bittersweet aura over all of it because of Shannon. The memorial service would mean saying goodbye, not just to Boone, who had already been mourned, but to everything that had happened on the island. It was time to move on.