Chapter 22 – How to Deal with Boredom on an Island

She woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night – Thursday maybe, to the sound of her father and Sabrina yelling. All she could hear was shards of conversation, bits of obscenities, fists banging on counters, cupboards slamming closed. And if that wasn't enough, she had just awoken from a dream full of looming shadows, spinning darkness, and deep red swirls of blood.

Shannon sat up, her sixteen-year-old body shivering in the cool embrace of night, clad only in a camisole and boy-shorts, and stood up, sliding open her door silently, watching her feet pat down the hallway, her toes making practically inaudible squeaks against the wood. She had memorized the pattern of the floor, and ended up standing in his doorway, moving closer to his bed, pulling back the comforter tentatively, and half asleep, he moved his pillow closer to the wall in habit and made room for her diminutive form. "Boone," she whispered, grabbing his hand, gliding up against him and shivering underneath the warm covers.

"Hmmm?" he sighed expectantly, tightening his grip.

"They're fighting. Daddy came home drunk." She whispered vulnerably into his ear, not really knowing why she insisted on sounding like such a waif.

"I know, baby, I know," he said, rubbing her lower back softly, kneading her skin tenderly. She turned to face him, just like she always did, and even in the darkness, his eyes reflected in the moonlight. She leaned towards him, and pressed her lips into his, prodding his mouth open with her tongue, and she felt his tongue against hers a few moments later. He pulled her closer, and rolled on top of her so that they had more room, and tickled her through her skimpy camisole, letting the straps slide off her shoulders as she ran her fingers through his hair. Breathing an almost silent sigh of his name, she moved her hand under his t-shirt and towards his boxers, but he pulled back. "Anna," he said.

"She doesn't care," Shannon whispered earnestly, digging her fingers into his stomach.

"I do. I don't want to cheat on her, Shan, okay?" He responded, sounding apologetic. He took her hand, trying to remove it from his vicinity, but it ended up as more of an affectionate gesture.

"Okay," she said, but ignored what he had said and started kissing him again. He tried to disagree, but as usual, he was defenseless to her plight. When he put his hands around her waist, she took his hands and tried to move them up under her shirt, moaning quietly when he caressed her cleavage, and when his foot accidentally tapped hers, she wrapped her feet around his, entangling their legs, and when her stomach started growling from another purged dinner, she tried to ignore it, intensifying her moans, trying to disguise the noise.

"Shannon," he groaned, pulling away for a second. "Are you throwing up again?"

"What?" she said. He had noticed.

"You went to the bathroom after dinner tonight," he said, staring at her somberly.

"Can we talk about this later?" she whispered desperately, tugging at his shirtsleeve as she pressed her fingers into the skin on his arms.

"No, I want to talk about it now." He mustered, ignoring her as well as he could.

"I don't!" Her eyes filled up with tears, and he rolled off of her, discouraged, lying next to her. She rested her head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around her.

"Shannon, you don't have to do this to yourself. I can feel your ribs, I mean, you're getting way too skinny." He noted seriously, so that she could feel him nodding from the crook of his neck.

"It's all I have," she sobbed, looking up at him with moist eyes, "I'll get fat!"

"No you won't, baby, you need to eat!" He let go of his embrace of her, sounding more intense about it.

"Would you quit calling me that?" She pulled away.

"Okay, Shannon, seriously, you have to eat! Promise me you'll try!" He raised his voice a bit.

"Why?" She said snidely, knowing perfectly well why.

"Because – because…" he started. " Isn't it obvious? People need food to live!"

"I fucking know that!" She cried. Boone looked around uncomfortably.

"My mom is going to hear you, you know how bad that would be?"

"Yeah," she said, quieting her sobs. She sobbed quietly into his chest, twisting his shirt with her hands. "I'm just scared."

"You shouldn't be," he said. "You need to eat." Wiping the tears from her face, he kissed the top of her head, and then placed another comforting kiss on her neck. Comforting morphed into more kisses, sprinkled with tongues and tiny gasps and hands finding their way underneath layers of clothes.

"Boone," she whispered, noticing a lack of voices downstairs. "I'm going to go, okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow – breakfast,"

"I can take a hint, ass," she said in a nasty tone, slipping out from under the covers and straightening the straps on her shirt. "I'll eat," she promised, smirking, as she walked down the hall.

But that didn't mean she wasn't going to throw it up after.

Shannon hadn't eaten since before the crash. Colors were tainted, and everything swirled somewhat. She wasn't doing this because she was obsessed with being thin; she was doing it more as a dare to the stupid island – she was challenging a rescue crew to come before she ate again. But as their third day on the island heated up, Shannon realized that she was going to have to eat sooner or later. She sat in the middle of the beach in front of a piece of plane, Boone sitting next to her, and bit into the apple he had given her in disgust, glaring at him, as if somehow this were her fault. "I hate this place," she grumbled.

"I know," he said distractedly, watching a creepy bald guy walk by. "Do you know him?"

"Yep," she sneered. "His name is Lucifer."

"Very funny, Shannon." He said dryly.

"God, there's no one to talk to on this stupid island."

"You could try making friends with the pregnant girl."

"This isn't summer camp, Boone." She mocked. "Although if you want to take this as an opportunity to make some friends – oh right, any friends, feel free." She opened her bag and started taking out a few nail polish containers.

"Are you really going to do your nails again?"

"Yep."

"You know people think you're an –"

"You know that doctor guy was joking when he told you about the pens! At least I know I'm stupid," she rolled her eyes.

"He was joking? Where'd you hear that?"

"Kate." She sighed. "So, Caribbean Blue or Ravishing Raspberry?"

"I don't care."

"I think you care, Boone." She said playfully, stretching her legs out to tickle his leg with her toes. She giggled mischievously.

"Stop that." He looked around. "People think we're siblings here."

"We are siblings." She crossed her bare leg over his knees and smirked, digging her toes into his ankles.

"Shannon," he argued, but noticed that no one was paying attention to what they were doing.

"See, Boone," she murmured, leaning towards his ear. "Nobody even notices us here."

"Shannon, I want you to stop this nonsense with us, okay? I just want it to be done."

"Nonsense?" She wrinkled up her nose, squinting at the sun. "The last time I heard that was from your Grandmother." She smiled. "The one who makes you call her Grandmother Carlyle!" She laughed.

"I don't know why you find that so funny."

"I find it funny because we're on a fucking island and everything is amusing here, because we're all –" she whispered into his ear, choosing her words carefully, "delirious." Before he could respond, she pulled back, hugging her knees to her chest, and asked him again, "Caribbean Blue or Ravishing Raspberry?"

"Caribbean Blue." He said nonchalantly.

"Fine, I'll paint them Ravishing Raspberry, then."

"Eat the apple."

"It's gross. It's from an airplane."

"You can't ruin an apple."

"Yeah, you can. Just ask Sabrina and her cardboard apples she uses as centerpieces from Pottery Barn."

"She doesn't shop at Pottery Barn."

"I know – what was it? She doesn't believe in Pottery Barn. That woman is totally whacked."

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "I'm going to go."

"Go do what?" She squinted.

"I don't know. Something that doesn't involve listening to people bitching."

"I suggest you don't hang out with the doctor then. He and Kate and Sayid are like this gossipy clique – they were talking about that –" Suddenly, Shannon noticed that Boone was still wearing the necklace! "Boone, what the fuck? How did you get that necklace back?"

"I fished it out of the trash when you were complaining about Kirsten Dunst."

"You what?" She said, in faux fury. "You little bastard."

"It's not that big a deal, Shan." He said.

"Oh, don't you not a big deal, Shan me!" He was totally eating this up!

"Sorry – I mean, you can think whatever you want to think about it, but – "

"Take it off." She said, a smile teasing the corners of her lips.

"Oh," he said in realization. "Oh, yeah, you're pretty funny there, Shannon." He rolled his eyes in sarcasm. "Fucking hilarious."

"You love it," she teased, leaning towards him.

"I love it so much I'm leaving," he said, and walked off in some random direction.

On the island, minutes seemed to pass like hours and hours seemed to pass like days – she let simple tasks like painting her nails take an hour, simply to pass the time. She perused a car magazine she had found, absorbing every word, even though she wasn't interested in cars in the first place. She walked around the beach and spent a few minutes finding sticks to build a fire with, and come back thinking she had been away for hours, and was upset when she found out how little time it had actually taken. After what seemed like an eternity, night finally came – a time in which Shannon both was both dreading and anticipating. The looming shadows, the constant reminder of that thing in the jungle, the melancholy darkness that enveloped them … she hated that. But she loved the promise of being able to sleep in his arms without worrying about everyday trivialities.

Trivialities were different here than they were at home. Today … trivialities were listening to a dying man, a marshal, she had heard, moaning in pain from the doctor's tent, which was really just a propped up tarp. And as Shannon walked across the beach aimlessly, she saw Boone sitting in the sand staring at the rise and fall of the tides; she kneeled behind him to try to find her sunglasses from her bag. "I wish he'd just die already," she said in a stage whisper.

"Real humane, Shannon." He said dismally.

"I mean, wouldn't it just be better for everyone if Jack put him out of his pain already?"

"Wouldn't it be better for everyone if you stopped spreading your nail polish fumes across the whole camp? We're all going to be asphyxiated." She ignored him.

"Damnit," she whined, fumbling through her bag more. "I can't find my sunglasses!"

"You had them on your head, that's why."

"Oh… shit, you're right. Damnit!" She punched into her tote bag. "Those things cost two-hundred and fifty bucks!"

"That's so stupid that you spend that much money."

"It's so stupid that you dress like a lesbian."

"Whatever, Shannon." Suddenly, they heard another excruciating moan from the guy in the tent.

"Don't you wish he would just die?"

"I wish you would just die." She frowned.

"God, Boone! Don't you think that's a little harsh? Jesus!" Sniffling, she stalked across the beach to look for her sunglasses.

About two hours later, Shannon was discouraged, having not found her Coco Chanel's, when she heard the gunshot. And the moaning of the man in the tent stopped. Shannon felt a weight in her stomach suddenly formulate. People had died in this crash – people were dying… that's why she was so confused and frightened when the moaning started up again… she didn't want to know what was going on over by the tent. And it was beginning to get cold and dark. She found herself slowly weaving around pieces of plane towards Boone, smiling in self- deprecation. She could never stay mad at him very long, could she?

"I'm cold," she said.

"Do you have any sweaters?"

"Do you think I could borrow one of yours?" Like Boone would ever reject seeing her in his clothes. What was it with guys and their clothes, anyway?

"Sure," he said under his breath, trying not to sound too pleased. "Take your pick," he opened his suitcase and let her rummage through it. She knelt down on the ground, the sand itching her knees, as he sat next to her, holding open the suitcase for her.

"Quit staring at my ass, Boone." She whispered, smiling and shaking her head.

"I'm not – "

"Just admit it!" She smirked.

"No!"

"Boone," she said seductively. She turned towards him and ran a teasing finger down his jaw and down his arm. "Tell me you were staring at my ass."

"Shannon," he cried in annoyance, looking around self-consciously. But he knew that he would rather just admit it then let her make a big scene. "I was staring at your…" he lowered his voice. " I was staring at your ass."

She smiled in victory, and selected a gray wool zip-up sweater and put it on over her white tank top. Looking around, she noticed that everyone's fires were out – it was such a clear night, strange, after such a horrendous storm, but she couldn't see any stars. "I'm still cold," she complained, hinting for him to hug her, or touch her, anything. He looked around insecurely before beckoning her into his lap. She climbed into his lap, and took his hands, wrapping them around her body. He rubbed his hands up her arms.

"That better?" He murmured into her ear.

"Yes," she smiled; her eyes closed, and leaned her head back into his shoulder. She felt his breathing next to her neck, and then a subtle flick of his tongue against the nape of her neck. "Oh!" She squealed in shock. He chuckled softly, pleasantly surprised by her reaction. She turned around, wrapping her arms around his neck, facing him, and fell into him, knocking him over into the sand. He laughed, but she covered his mouth, vying him to be silent so that nobody noticed. Then she slowly crawled off of him, letting her fingers linger across his neck, and when he closed his eyes – well, that was when she took off the necklace in question.

She woke up the next morning with her head on his chest; she kept her eyes closed as he wrapped his arms protectively around her, staring off somewhere. The sun was just creeping up over the mountains, she could tell even without opening her eyes, and Shannon could tell that the weather was going to be scorching that day. Squinting, she moved from his embrace and pulled off the sweater, then cuddled into him again. What was the point of getting up early, anyway? From her place on his chest, she noticed Sawyer sitting a little down the beach – Boone was looking at him, tightening his grip around Shannon. Too tired to notice, she closed her eyes again, stretching a little, and then scrunched herself up more. "Shan," he muttered.

"Yeah?" She yawned, looking around. "Damn," she realized she was still on the dumb island – it hadn't been a dream! Rolling away from him, she grabbed her tote bag, still lying down, and took out her travel alarm clock. "8:01 AM." She reported.

"Is this is third or fourth day?" He asked.

"Fourth."

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck." Boone rarely swore this much, so Shannon knew he was super pissed.

"My thoughts exactly."

"So… how do we take showers here?" He asked.

"Oh, gross, you haven't yet?" She frowned. "No wonder you smell like fermented eggs." Okay, so maybe she made that up…

"No, I've done the whole ocean water thing, but like, a clean shower."

"Oh yeah, a couple plumbers from PG +E installed ten yesterday. Didn't you hear?"

"PG +E is a telephone company."

"Oh." She said, tossing her bag into his empty hands. "Hold this."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Apparently not. Do you think I should wear –"?

"Does it matter? You'll just choose the opposite, anyway."

"I like to piss you off."

"I had no idea." He glared at her. "Is that what Sydney was?"

"No," she sighed. "No, god damnit!" She cried, grabbing her bag and sitting down far away from him in the middle of the beach. A few minutes later, tired of moping aimlessly, she decided to mope while reading that dumb car magazine again. When she finished perusing it again, she threw it into the sand. This island was so fucking boring!

When she heard him trudging up the beach behind her, she was about to yell, "Piss off!" when a pair of shiny black Coco Chanel sunglasses landed in her lap. He kept walking, smiling a half-smile as she smiled a real, genuine smile. Since everything on this dumb island was either a hundred times better or a hundred times worse, and this was a hundred times better, she decided to take a little chance. "Boone!" She ran after him (okay, traipsed, damn sand), putting the glasses on her head. "Come here." She said when she caught up with him.

"Um. I am here."

"No, follow me." She walked along the beach until she could hardly breathe, and he followed, muttering sighs of exhaustion and confusion as he did so. When they were far away enough (probably about 5000 miles away, she was so damn tired!), she stood under three trees, where she was convinced they would be well hidden enough. "You want me," she said.

"And?" She found it adorable that he didn't even try to deny it. So she smiled crookedly and approached him more. "That was kind of random," he said uncomfortably.

"Not really," she decided. "Because you always want me, don't you?" He sighed. She got closer to him, licking her finger and wiping away some dirt of his cheek. "Dirty boy," she whispered. "Dirty, dirty, dirty…" She wrapped her hands around his neck, leading him towards the tree. She pressed him into it, and ran her hands down his arms. "Guess what I stole from Sawyer's tent yesterday?" She murmured into his neck, creeping her hands down his torso.

"Oh god," he said, partially in reaction to her hands, partially in reaction to what she had just said.

"I have one, you know," she continued. "In my pocket… why don't you get it out for me, huh, baby?" He ignored what she had said, and just looked at the smirk on her face and pressed his lips into hers.

"You win." He said in a distressed tone.

Yay! Bout of hot island sex number 1, coming your way! And that's one of hopefully, many. Um, I know this chapter wasn't so great – I'll put more stuff about the others on the island in the next chapter after… hehehehehe! Also, tell me if you liked the flashback-type thing. Anyway, review, and I'm not afraid to grovel. Please, please, please, please, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!