Work Text:
Being on the island reminds her of high school.
Shannon hated high school. Sure, she was popular. But it didn’t change anything. It was still full of awful people—she isn’t sure what was worse, their personalities or their smells. There wasn’t a single person there who was genuine, herself included. Everyone pretended to be something else. There were cliques and whispers and gossip. God, the gossip. Sure, she’s spread a rumor or two in her day. But she’s sick of it.
It’s just as awful here on the island as it was then. The cliquey nature of the survivors; Kate and Jack and the A team going on adventures and keeping their mouths shut when they return. The drama between them all. It’s exhausting. She plays her part, but she longs for some peace and quiet. Everyone’s always on the lookout for the monster of the day. Can’t one of those days just be a tropical vacation?
She’s come to find herself separating from them more and more often. She used to remain on the beach, her worry about heading off into the unknown only amplified by everything that’s happened. But Boone goes out there every day with his boyfriend and he comes out fine, so why can’t she? And the more she goes on walks along the coast or into the edge of the jungle, the braver she gets.
She’s on her way back, now. She can tell the sun is on its way down and one thing she refuses to do is stray during the night. She’s not an idiot.
Something catches her eye in the sand and she stops, stepping closer. She bends down and picks it up, dusting the grains of sand off with her fingers.
It’s a shell. A dusty pink sort of color, more of a red probably. It’s perfectly intact and she thinks it looks pretty.
She realizes that she’s never seen a shell before, in all their time here. On the beach back home there would always be so many. It’s strange, almost as if it was put here simply for her to find it. But that’s such a crazy thought and completely not true. She’s sure she just hasn’t noticed them before.
She thinks that she has to show Sayid. He’d take it and study it closely and just when she thought he wasn’t going to say anything at all, he’d make some comment that makes her laugh or think so deeply or ache with emotion. And then he’d thank her.
Why does she know that?
Since when is Sayid the first thing she thinks of when she sees something pretty?
She frowns to herself, scratching her nail over the surface of the shell. She hates that her thoughts have been circling around him. It isn’t like it’s ever been, because it isn’t under her control. She’s certainly had her fair share of experience with men. But she’s always preferred to think of them as a tool, or a way to get what she wants. It’s so calculated in her head. But this isn’t like that. Her mind is focused on him for no reason other than selfish desire.
He isn’t like the other men she’s known, so she supposes it makes sense that her brain has been treating him differently. He is attractive, yes. Just like many of them have been before. But he’s more than that. He’s complex. He’s . . . kind. She isn’t sure she’s ever even known a kind man beside her father.
She likes the way he talks, and the way he says her name. She likes how he looks at her, with a softness in his eyes. With an intrigue that goes beyond how she looks. It’s like he really cares about what she says when she talks. No one has ever really cared before him. She’s never blamed them.
If she brought him the shell, he’d treat it as if it were gold. Or some ancient artifact. And he’d look at her like she was brilliant for stumbling across it.
In perfect timing, she lifts her head as she walks into the camp, eyes falling onto Sayid. He’s talking to Sun in front of her tent, but as if he can sense her gaze, he turns his head and meets her eyes. He smiles—that warm smile that she can feel wrapping around her heart—and she feels like they’re the only two who exist on this beach, and in this world.
She wouldn’t mind if that were true. She almost wishes it was.