I am JUST a smidge late!
Title: Blend into the Dawn
Characters: Shannon/Jack, implied Shannon/Sayid
Rating: PG-13?
Prompt: 20. Learned Helplessness
Word Count: 1,500
Spoilers: S1 & S2
Disclaimer: Don't own Lost. Oh, well.
A/N: This is for Queen elise_509 and didibreakit. Yup, I started it on her day and just finished. But I've had this idea for two months, ever since I heard this song: Tony Desare - Want You. Seriously, download it, it is SO beautiful and I've been wanting to share it all this time, but this whole fic is based around it so I couldn't. ANYWAYS - yay! for these two lovely ladies and their request for Jack/Shannon. Totally gave me the push I needed to take this out of my head and commit it here. ♥ you both.
*
It could have been the blonde hair, it could have been the fierce determination, but she reminded him of Sarah. Jack knows it is unfair, but he remembers when Shannon would smile on the Island, cool and calculating, or more often, the expression of annoyance and impatience that would flash over her features, and it is impossible not to be pulled back into the before.
*
Jack stands amidst the scrub on the dune and watches Shannon approach, trudging up from the dark shore. The rest of the group are laughing, singing and spinning in the night. Charlie strums his guitar as shadowed faces reveal flickers of smiles in the firelight. There is an air of ecstatic hope at the thought of rescue and they huddle together, discussing the launch of the raft. The survivors revel in how they will see their families again soon, how this will all be over, and it seems to Jack that the group is one living, breathing entity, buzzing and alive with excitement. Jack feels like a cancer of doubt in wait below the surface, so he simply extricates himself. It is for the good of the group, not just a cosmetic procedure.
“Hey Jack.” Shannon says, smiling up from beneath a fringe of dark lashes. The slight breeze tangles her hair against them and she brushes it back away from her face.
“Hey.”
Jack squirms beneath her gaze, so confident and sure. He is almost jealous of it.
A soft palm slides down his arm, and Jack is startled by the unexpected contact. Shannon grins as her slender fingers creep around and circle his wrist. “Dance with me Jack.”
It is a simple request, but her tone, the quiet smile that lights her eyes, it floods him with memories of her and who he was then, who he is now.
“I can’t.” Jack quickly averts his gaze, glancing out at the ocean. It sparkles, dark and beautiful, a deception masking the danger of it's depths.
“Well that’s just lame.” Shannon’s eyes reflect the same shadow, but it flickers away and they glitter as she teases, emphasizing the last word. Her giggle is a light tinkling over the rush of the sea. Boldly stepping into his personal space, Shannon wraps her arms around his sides, palms flat against the strained muscles of Jack's upper back. Her voice is a whisper.
“Don’t worry, I’ll show you how.”
A bitter laugh escapes his throat and Shannon eyes him, her lips pursed. “Sorry, just…” He gives in and tentatively places a hand at her waist. They begin to sway from side to side, moving slowly, almost like the wind itself and Jack can feel the tension slide from his shoulders with the motion. He recalls the steps quickly, but Shannon leads.
The distant notes of the guitar are faint, overcome by the waves lapping the shore, but there is another sound, and Jack thinks for a moment that his mind is conjuring an old melody. A sliver of moonlight plays upon Shannon’s cheek, a highlight to her brilliant smile and Jack finally realizes where the noise is coming from. Shannon is humming.
*
He is fairly certain she is their embessary, attempting to entice him to come down to the shore, participate. Just be part of the group.
But then she kisses him; gentle, just a brush of lips, a press of shoulders and mouths, open space between them. Jack slides his fingertips over the smooth curve of her shoulder, barely grazing the skin, afraid to do more. Concern flashes through his mind; What about... and I can't..., but the doubts are stolen from his lips by hers. He takes his cues from Shannon, parts them only when she presses forward, testing, but unlike the usual strain for his attention, this is not need, hot and rushed, or even wanton desire. The kiss is quiet, simple, and it is a promise.
Turns out isn’t always about him.
*
The sky was streaked in pale pinks and golds by the time Shannon pulled herself up to slink off, turning to smile warmly at Jack before finally disappearing into her tent. His arm was instantly cold at the lack of her shoulder pressed to his.
They had watched as the party on the beach broke apart, the bonfire shooting it's last sparks into the night sky as people wandered back towards their make-shift huts, their make-shift lives. For Jack, this life was more real than the one he had left behind. It twisted his gut to know that if they were rescued, things would never be the same, but that he would be.
Her head tucked against his collarbone, Shannon had told Jack about growing up in Malibu, told him about how as beautiful as it was, told him how all she ever wanted to do was escape. Jack confided how stressful the life he made for himself had been, how he desperetly had longed for the same thing. For hours they had sat, and in hushed tones, whispered their secrets and failures back and forth.
Turns out there was a lot more they shared than Jack could have imagined.
*
“You should tell him.” Jack says. Shannon swipes a thumb across her lower lip, staring up from the dirt floor. A stain here or there no longer seems to worry her.
He can’t do this again, can’t repeat his mistakes. You make them, you see the faults, take the consequences, you learn. There must be a lesson or else - else every action is in vain.
Shannon stands, adjusting the strap of her tank top, and peers at him curiously. Her eyes are dark, wide, and her smirk is one of weary amusement and wonder. She shakes her head slightly.
“Why?”
The single syllable resounds in the thick air of the jungle, and Jack swallows hard. Her eyes shine with wisdom beyond her years and he remembers. Remembers the mistakes, the consequences, the hurt that he had selfishly inflicted in search of a clear conscience.
A soft breath tickles his chin and his head spins. “I don’t know,” Jack concedes, and slides his hands over the fabric of her skirt, fingers hooking on the waistband before it - before he - falls.
*
It ended as quickly as it had begun. There was the return of the men whom they had shoved into the rough and waiting arms of the ocean, the men who had only been tossed about and spit back. There were Others, there was deception and betrayal and death. Jack could never seem to find time for her, so swept up in holding them all together, trying to be the hero and then, just like that, it was over.
“You don’t have to be the hero, Jack,” she told him once. Her fingers trailed over his chest, and he shivered beneath her touch though he was flushed from the inside out. Sweat pooled at his collarbone. “You just have to be.”
Turns out Jack was a success at repeating his mistakes.
*
Jack stands in the crowded ballroom, watching as people sweep around him, chatting and smiling, and again, uncertainty floods his system. There had been a time, long ago, when he was comfortable in these surroundings, confident and at home. But after the Island, after all that he gained in self-awareness, all that he lost in self-belief, the world he used to inhabit feels false.
He listens to the pull of strings, the slow waltz, and is pulled back to the night he spent with Shannon, swaying beneath the stars. He can remember the scent of her hair, the press of her body against his, the waves. The thought centers him, and he brings his glass to his lips. He should have made more time for her on the island, before it was too late. Before their time was stolen from them.
A hand slides around the front of his tuxedo and Jack bites back a grin. “Care to dance, Dr. Sheppard?”
He spins to face her, hair shining and piled in a lose bun, smile genuine and content. Shannon is stunning in a simple navy evening gown, the material shimmering like the distant, familiar shore as he pulls her into his arms and tells her so. She places a soft kiss upon his lips and folds herself into his chest, moving them both to the music.
They had always been good at stolen moments, tiny wisps of happiness snuck in among chaos and confusion. It is no different now that they had been thrust back into ‘society’. Shannon still centers Jack, balances him, forgiving his faults and mistakes.
The music fades but still they sway together, Jack holding tight to thoughts of the future. He no longer grasps at the lingering bits of control as he once did. A smile graces his lips as Shannon presses a slender hand on his arm, maneuvering him towards the entryway of the ballroom. “Let’s go home,” she whispers.
Turns out it’s not so difficult to let someone else take the lead at all.
*
Characters: Shannon/Jack, implied Shannon/Sayid
Rating: PG-13?
Prompt: 20. Learned Helplessness
Word Count: 1,500
Spoilers: S1 & S2
Disclaimer: Don't own Lost. Oh, well.
A/N: This is for Queen elise_509 and didibreakit. Yup, I started it on her day and just finished. But I've had this idea for two months, ever since I heard this song: Tony Desare - Want You. Seriously, download it, it is SO beautiful and I've been wanting to share it all this time, but this whole fic is based around it so I couldn't. ANYWAYS - yay! for these two lovely ladies and their request for Jack/Shannon. Totally gave me the push I needed to take this out of my head and commit it here. ♥ you both.
*
It could have been the blonde hair, it could have been the fierce determination, but she reminded him of Sarah. Jack knows it is unfair, but he remembers when Shannon would smile on the Island, cool and calculating, or more often, the expression of annoyance and impatience that would flash over her features, and it is impossible not to be pulled back into the before.
*
Jack stands amidst the scrub on the dune and watches Shannon approach, trudging up from the dark shore. The rest of the group are laughing, singing and spinning in the night. Charlie strums his guitar as shadowed faces reveal flickers of smiles in the firelight. There is an air of ecstatic hope at the thought of rescue and they huddle together, discussing the launch of the raft. The survivors revel in how they will see their families again soon, how this will all be over, and it seems to Jack that the group is one living, breathing entity, buzzing and alive with excitement. Jack feels like a cancer of doubt in wait below the surface, so he simply extricates himself. It is for the good of the group, not just a cosmetic procedure.
“Hey Jack.” Shannon says, smiling up from beneath a fringe of dark lashes. The slight breeze tangles her hair against them and she brushes it back away from her face.
“Hey.”
Jack squirms beneath her gaze, so confident and sure. He is almost jealous of it.
A soft palm slides down his arm, and Jack is startled by the unexpected contact. Shannon grins as her slender fingers creep around and circle his wrist. “Dance with me Jack.”
It is a simple request, but her tone, the quiet smile that lights her eyes, it floods him with memories of her and who he was then, who he is now.
“I can’t.” Jack quickly averts his gaze, glancing out at the ocean. It sparkles, dark and beautiful, a deception masking the danger of it's depths.
“Well that’s just lame.” Shannon’s eyes reflect the same shadow, but it flickers away and they glitter as she teases, emphasizing the last word. Her giggle is a light tinkling over the rush of the sea. Boldly stepping into his personal space, Shannon wraps her arms around his sides, palms flat against the strained muscles of Jack's upper back. Her voice is a whisper.
“Don’t worry, I’ll show you how.”
A bitter laugh escapes his throat and Shannon eyes him, her lips pursed. “Sorry, just…” He gives in and tentatively places a hand at her waist. They begin to sway from side to side, moving slowly, almost like the wind itself and Jack can feel the tension slide from his shoulders with the motion. He recalls the steps quickly, but Shannon leads.
The distant notes of the guitar are faint, overcome by the waves lapping the shore, but there is another sound, and Jack thinks for a moment that his mind is conjuring an old melody. A sliver of moonlight plays upon Shannon’s cheek, a highlight to her brilliant smile and Jack finally realizes where the noise is coming from. Shannon is humming.
*
He is fairly certain she is their embessary, attempting to entice him to come down to the shore, participate. Just be part of the group.
But then she kisses him; gentle, just a brush of lips, a press of shoulders and mouths, open space between them. Jack slides his fingertips over the smooth curve of her shoulder, barely grazing the skin, afraid to do more. Concern flashes through his mind; What about... and I can't..., but the doubts are stolen from his lips by hers. He takes his cues from Shannon, parts them only when she presses forward, testing, but unlike the usual strain for his attention, this is not need, hot and rushed, or even wanton desire. The kiss is quiet, simple, and it is a promise.
Turns out isn’t always about him.
*
The sky was streaked in pale pinks and golds by the time Shannon pulled herself up to slink off, turning to smile warmly at Jack before finally disappearing into her tent. His arm was instantly cold at the lack of her shoulder pressed to his.
They had watched as the party on the beach broke apart, the bonfire shooting it's last sparks into the night sky as people wandered back towards their make-shift huts, their make-shift lives. For Jack, this life was more real than the one he had left behind. It twisted his gut to know that if they were rescued, things would never be the same, but that he would be.
Her head tucked against his collarbone, Shannon had told Jack about growing up in Malibu, told him about how as beautiful as it was, told him how all she ever wanted to do was escape. Jack confided how stressful the life he made for himself had been, how he desperetly had longed for the same thing. For hours they had sat, and in hushed tones, whispered their secrets and failures back and forth.
Turns out there was a lot more they shared than Jack could have imagined.
*
“You should tell him.” Jack says. Shannon swipes a thumb across her lower lip, staring up from the dirt floor. A stain here or there no longer seems to worry her.
He can’t do this again, can’t repeat his mistakes. You make them, you see the faults, take the consequences, you learn. There must be a lesson or else - else every action is in vain.
Shannon stands, adjusting the strap of her tank top, and peers at him curiously. Her eyes are dark, wide, and her smirk is one of weary amusement and wonder. She shakes her head slightly.
“Why?”
The single syllable resounds in the thick air of the jungle, and Jack swallows hard. Her eyes shine with wisdom beyond her years and he remembers. Remembers the mistakes, the consequences, the hurt that he had selfishly inflicted in search of a clear conscience.
A soft breath tickles his chin and his head spins. “I don’t know,” Jack concedes, and slides his hands over the fabric of her skirt, fingers hooking on the waistband before it - before he - falls.
*
It ended as quickly as it had begun. There was the return of the men whom they had shoved into the rough and waiting arms of the ocean, the men who had only been tossed about and spit back. There were Others, there was deception and betrayal and death. Jack could never seem to find time for her, so swept up in holding them all together, trying to be the hero and then, just like that, it was over.
“You don’t have to be the hero, Jack,” she told him once. Her fingers trailed over his chest, and he shivered beneath her touch though he was flushed from the inside out. Sweat pooled at his collarbone. “You just have to be.”
Turns out Jack was a success at repeating his mistakes.
*
Jack stands in the crowded ballroom, watching as people sweep around him, chatting and smiling, and again, uncertainty floods his system. There had been a time, long ago, when he was comfortable in these surroundings, confident and at home. But after the Island, after all that he gained in self-awareness, all that he lost in self-belief, the world he used to inhabit feels false.
He listens to the pull of strings, the slow waltz, and is pulled back to the night he spent with Shannon, swaying beneath the stars. He can remember the scent of her hair, the press of her body against his, the waves. The thought centers him, and he brings his glass to his lips. He should have made more time for her on the island, before it was too late. Before their time was stolen from them.
A hand slides around the front of his tuxedo and Jack bites back a grin. “Care to dance, Dr. Sheppard?”
He spins to face her, hair shining and piled in a lose bun, smile genuine and content. Shannon is stunning in a simple navy evening gown, the material shimmering like the distant, familiar shore as he pulls her into his arms and tells her so. She places a soft kiss upon his lips and folds herself into his chest, moving them both to the music.
They had always been good at stolen moments, tiny wisps of happiness snuck in among chaos and confusion. It is no different now that they had been thrust back into ‘society’. Shannon still centers Jack, balances him, forgiving his faults and mistakes.
The music fades but still they sway together, Jack holding tight to thoughts of the future. He no longer grasps at the lingering bits of control as he once did. A smile graces his lips as Shannon presses a slender hand on his arm, maneuvering him towards the entryway of the ballroom. “Let’s go home,” she whispers.
Turns out it’s not so difficult to let someone else take the lead at all.
*