He'd just finished setting up the buffet table. He'd given a lot of thought to what he wanted to serve. Though probably no one but him still followed Jack's food rules, he'd kept them in mind when planning the menu; in fact they formed the basis for all of his dishes, both for his own family and in the catering business. The health and fitness craze that started around 2000 had grown and so there was an ever expanding market for healthy, nutritious, but good tasting and well presented food. Even people who weren't into that were always surprised when he delivered something superior to an old high fat dish, only to be told, after sampling, exactly what guidelines he'd followed when making the thing. The whole wheat vegetarian and turkey lasagnes that he was going to put out later were going to go over well, he hoped. There were also some fancy cut sandwiches, hors d'oeuvres and salads; nothing that couldn't be eaten with just a fork or your fingers. Balancing a plate on your knees while trying to cut through chicken parmegiana, never went well with expensively upholstered living room furniture. At least he knew he'd pitch a fit if someone lost the battle to keep their food on the plate while trying to saw through it with a knife, and got marinara sauce on his couch.
He stepped back to survey the finished display, very pleased with the results, almost reaching out to snag an asparagus and Swiss cheese canapé, but stopping at the last minute, not wanting to disturb the symmetry of his arrangement. Sawyer reached past him to grab a handful of sandwiches.
Predictably, he'd had shown up hours before the party was to start, not to offer to help, of course, but just to see what he could mooch.
"Looks good, Metro, bet your husband's real proud 'a his wife's cookin'." He smiled at Boone, smugly, and popped a sandwich into his mouth, his eyes alight with mischief.
"Asshole," Boone muttered as Sawyer turned and walked away. He rearranged the sandwich platter and stepped back again.
Shannon came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Another magnificent effort Mr. Carlyle, you'll just have to do my next party." She affected a snobbish sounding accent.
He turned in her embrace and smiled. "I really, really like doing this Shan." He said with boyish enthusiasm.
"I know you do Boone," she acknowledged, laughing at his excitement. "Now, are you finally going to get dressed for the party?"
"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" He looked down at the now correctly buttoned shirt, and jeans.
"Boone," she said in an exasperated tone, "even Sawyer's wearing a suit, and we didn't bring yours all this way just so it could hang in a closet.
He huffed and rolled his eyes. "Alright," he kissed her and headed up the stairs.
Most of the guests had arrived by the time he'd showered and changed. Shannon caught sight of him coming down the stairs dressed in a black suit and tie, with a white shirt. It was the first time since coming back, and the first time in almost seven years, that she'd seen him dressed up, it always took her breath away at how effortlessly elegant and handsome he looked. He crossed the room towards her, smirking a little shyly at the look in her eye, she reached up and straightened his tie, he never could get the damn thing centred.
It was great being among their friends again, it was just the immediate group, and their significant others, no outsiders or kids, Andrew being the only exception, and that was to keep Claire's kids company and because the Carlyle's were staying overnight. They only got together rarely and preferred to focus all their energy on catching up, without having to make sure little Johnny or Sally behaved themselves, or the girl or boyfriend of the week didn't wonder why Sun could cure Charlie's headache just by pressing her fingers to his temple, that Michael was having a mostly one sided conversation with Hurley, or Claire was telling Jin what he'd be doing next year. The alternative being that all of them had to keep themselves in check in order to appear strictly normal, no island bestowed abilities in evidence.
Sawyer kept asking Jack's wife to dance. Jack had married Kate Madison about three years after getting back. He'd been more than a little cautious, what with his first marriage ending in divorce, and the tragedy with the first Kate, on the island. They had a daughter, Jessica, she was five; Shannon was looking forward to seeing the little girl for the first time when they went to visit in the New Year.
Kate knew that Sawyer was only dancing with her to needle Jack, but she wasn't the slightest less immune to his southern charm than any one of his mark's had been, and so accepted happily each time. Jack was pretty cool with it at first, just shaking his head and chalking it up to their unwritten, long-lasting competition with each other, but as the party progressed, Sawyer kept taking more and more liberties with Kate, his hands moving lower and lower each time they took to the floor, progressing from her shoulders to her waist as they swayed in time to the music. Finally Jack had had enough and cut in, predictably there was a bit of a disagreement, but Shannon stepped in before it could get ugly, pulling Sawyer away and resting her head on his shoulder as she slid one of his arms around her waist and fumbled the other one into hers, guiding him into the proper dance steps.
Now it was Boone's turn to shake his head, narrowing his eyes at the lascivious look of triumph in Sawyer's eyes as he pulled "Sticks" closer against him; the man had always had the hots for her. He turned to go into the kitchen for another food run, knowing full well that his sister was more than capable of keeping Sawyer, and his hands, in their proper place.
Claire watched through the evening as her husband became increasingly more inebriated. He may have given up the heroin, but he was still an addict, and tonight his stimulant of choice was scotch. Charlie was standing now, weaving a bit unsteadily, with Walt and his fiancée Svetlana, she was a pretty blonde girl, athletic looking, they were planning on becoming an eco-tour guide team when they graduated, Walt specializing in animals, and Svetlana in plants. Charlie was drunkenly miming some kind of activity. Suddenly he turned from them and jumped on Sawyers back as he passed on his way to the buffet, she realized that he'd used the same movements he'd been demonstrating to them. Sawyer wasn't exactly sober either, and the weight of Charlie on his back sent him staggering forward, he fell, face first, on the table, sending it crashing to the carpet.
"Fuckin' dick head, get the hell off me, you asshole!" Sawyer started yelling, Charlie was trying to scramble to his feet, but kept getting them caught in Sawyers legs. It looked like an old silent Keystone Cops movie, only this one was hardly silent as Sawyer continued to swear loudly. Everyone rushed forward to help.
Shannon glanced over at Boone. He was staring at the broken table and spilled food in horror. Aw shit no, she headed over to him, "Boone, do not tell me you're going to fucking well cry." The way he'd been acting lately, anything was possible.
He buried his face in his hands and his shoulders started shaking. Jesus, he was such a mess, she sighed. She suddenly realized that he wasn't crying, he was actually laughing uncontrollably. He raised his head; there were tears in his eyes he was laughing so hard.
Sawyer had finally shucked Charlie off his back, and stormed past the two of them standing in the doorway leading to the stairs. "Laugh it up, Chuckles," he shot at Boone and elbowed him hard into the wall, continuing on his way. Boone bounced back against the wall, smashing his head, and collapsed to a sitting position, falling hard on his ass. The laughter cut off as suddenly as it had started, replaced by a look of fury in his eye.
He scrambled to his feet, his face contorted in anger. Shannon stepped in front of him as he attempted to follow Sawyer. "Boone, just what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"He's pushed me around for the last time." His cheeks were bright red, his breathing, fast.
"He's twice your size, you idiot, and he's already proven he can beat the snot out of you." She continued to hold him back. "Boone, he's not mad at you, he's just embarrassed, and mad at the whole situation. Don't take it personally." Shannon tried to reason with him.
He looked up at her. "I'm tired of it, Shan, I'm tired of it." Some of the fight seemed to go out of him, "I'm tired, so tired." His shoulders slumped.
She wasn't sure if he was still talking about Sawyer, or his own physical and mental state. Jesus his mood was mercurial tonight, he'd gone from amusement to fury to resignation in the space of two minutes; it wasn't like him at all.
"Boone, just take a breather, calm down, okay?" She caught his eye and smiled. "Why don't you go in the kitchen and get some more food to bring out? The table was pretty empty anyway, really, not that much got wasted. Please?" He nodded, kissed her, and headed from the room.
She took the opportunity of his temporary absence to go talk to Jack about him.
After listening to Shannon and her concerns about her brother, Jack had to agree that they were valid, and went out to the kitchen to talk to him. "Hey," he greeted Boone.
The younger man smiled at him in greeting, continuing to package up the leftovers.
"You doing okay?" Jack asked.
Boone frowned, trying to get a sense of where this was coming from, "Yeah."
"Because Shannon says you had a pretty bad nightmare on the way over here this afternoon." Jack put the information on the table.
"She shouldn't have said anything," he sighed and shook his head, "I'm fine."
"You don't look fine, you look tired." Jack observed.
"I've just got a lot of shit going on. It's busy working two full time jobs." While the store pretty much took care of itself, what with Joan being so incredibly capable, there was still a lot of behind the scenes stuff to do, along with the catering.
"Why are you even working two jobs? It's not like you need the money." Jack inquired.
"I don't know," Boone shrugged, "I like being busy."
"Boone, there's busy, and then there's burned out. I'm going to guess you're closer to the later." Jack gave his opinion.
"What?" he frowned.
"Why'd you come in here?" Jack didn't think Boone had any conscious memory of the true reason.
"Uh," he glanced around, suddenly unsure, "I was going to clean up?" he unintentionally made it a question.
Jack shook his head, "No Boone, you were going to bring out some more food. Sawyer, Charlie, the table?" Jack prompted.
"Yeah, I was just….uhm, getting some ready." He lied badly, Christ how had he forgotten?
"Boone, go to bed." Jack looked at him flatly.
"Just 'cause I gapped why I came in here's no reason to try to send me to bed like an eight year old." Boone protested a bit petulantly, managing to sound exactly like one.
You've been acting it, Jack thought, given Shannon's description of his antics during the past couple of weeks. "Boone," Jack started patiently, "you've been trying to put the same round lid on the square Tupperware container since we started talking."
He looked down in alarm, suddenly realizing he'd been doing exactly that.
"Look, I don't want to scare you, but you're going to end up back in the hospital if you don't take care of yourself." Jack reached out and gently took the container away from him. "Maybe you should go back to seeing someone once a week." He suggested.
"No," he almost appeared as if he was going to break down right this very second.
"Boone," Jack put the container down, and reached out to grab Boone's shoulders. "Stop, just calm down and stop."
Boone looked up at him, apprehension in his eyes, "I can't, Jack. I can't go back there, how did I get so out of control? Damn."
"How much sleep have you gotten in the past week?" Jack realized, surprised, that Boone looked older than his thirty-two years, fatigue dragging down the corners of his eyes.
He thought about lying, but figured there wasn't any point. "I don't know, maybe fourteen, fifteen hours." He guessed at two hours a night.
"Boone, go to bed," Jack repeated, "Now."
Jack's warning that he'd end up back under psychiatric care had scared him, "Okay, I'll just go say goodnight to every one."
"No, Boone, you won't," Jack corrected him. He just didn't want him to go back to the party and start talking to someone again, or notice a glass without a coaster sitting on a wooden table and start obsessing about the ring it was going to leave, and how he was going to have to get it out the next day, even though this wasn't even his house.
"You're not in charge any more, Jack; I don't have to do what you say." Boone responded, once again sounding childish, he might as well have said "You're not the boss of me," like some rebellious adolescent.
"Boone. Bed. Now," Jack's tone changed completely, he was using his old leader voice the one that always got everyone to respond without question, if Boone was going to act like a kid, he was going to treat him like one.
Boone smiled as he notice the change, "Yes, sir." He gave in. "Thanks, Jack, sorry man; I feel bad Shan had to drag you into this, that I made her feel she had to go to you." Jack shrugged it off, if it got Boone to realize he was headed down a potentially disastrous path, it was worth it. Boone hugged him before heading up the back stairs.
He checked on the kids before turning in, still resisting Jack's orders to go straight to bed, asserting a little independence. Sarah was sound asleep in her room, tucked into bed, and, in his room in one of the twin beds, Aaron was as well, Andrew however, had fallen asleep at the computer console; he picked his son up and carried him to the other bed, pulling the covers up to his chin, then shutting the gaming system down.
He sat down on the side of the bed in the guest room, bending down to undo his shoe laces. When he woke up ten minutes later, he realized just how much Jack and Shannon were right about his lack of sleep. He sat up and pushed his shoes off, taking off the rest of his clothes and hanging them up carefully. He slid under the eiderdown duvet, and was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.