Chapter Two
Sayid stood outside the tent where he and Shannon had become one flesh, and he took a deep breath, as though he feared it would be his last. Like a man plunging into a cold pool all at once to get the horror over with quickly, he pushed through the entrance. On the sandy floor lay the decaying remnants of flowers.
He walked past them, kneeled before Shannon's suitcase, and slowly undid its clasps. He opened the lid and began sorting through the contents. He took out the shoes—that first gift he had given her, after he had first noticed her, really noticed her. He reached in to lift out a bikini, and felt something sharp prick him. He dug a little deeper and pulled out an unexpected object—the tiny figurine of a ballerina.
He examined it closely and felt a sudden wave of tenderness overwhelm him. What had this little treasure meant to Shannon? He would never know. There were so many things he would never know about her. That chance had been stripped violently from him.
From where they sat packing in the other tent, Charlie and Claire could hear the sounds of great, wrenching sobs rising like a wave in the distance. Charlie looked nervously to Claire. "Should we go over there?" he asked.
"God, no, Charlie. Leave him alone. It's the first time he's done this. It may be the last. Let him be."
It was another thirty minutes before Sayid arrived at Claire's tent, dropping his own suitcase on the sandy floor. He didn't have Shannon's. "I've left her things for you," he said. "If you can't use them, find someone who can." As he spoke, he reached into his pocket to finger the little ballerina he had placed there. It was all he wanted to keep.
Sayid did not hear Claire say, "Thank you" as he began walking down the beach, trying to run from his thoughts, struggling to outpace his emotions. Charlie was soon hurrying after him, calling his name. Sayid slowed down so Charlie could catch up, but he did not stop walking.
"Can I have your gun?" Charlie asked when he had finally drawn up along side him.
"My gun?"
"Yeah, you're gun. You know, so I can protect Claire. I mean, you don't exactly need it anymore."
Sayid whirled around angrily. Charlie's mouth had already fallen open; he had realized too late what he had said, and how it had sounded. He stuttered, "Sayid, I didn't mean…I didn't mean…I mean…what I mean…"
Sayid reached behind his back and violently pulled out the gun. He fiercely grabbed Charlie's hand and slammed the barrel hard into his palm. The metal stung against his skin. "Take it," Sayid growled. "You are right, so take it. I have no life worth protecting, not even my own. I could not even protect what was entrusted to me."
And then he stormed away down the beach.