sayid, sun
PG-13
appx 150 words
just playing with the tension in “The Glass Ballerina”
It doesn’t matter that she’s pregnant. Actually, Sayid thinks as he watches her sleeping, that might be the reason for it. She seems so real, so lush and full and glowing, powerful in a way only women can be; strong, solid, almost terrifying.
But yet, so fragile. He knows it’s ridiculous, but he can’t help but compare her to some exotic flower, blooming generously but mysterious anyway, profuse with color, the air around her thick with her scent-a flower so nearly crushed so many times.
He tells himself she won’t be crushed. She is strong. She’s strong in exactly the way he can’t help but admire and want: quiet, determined, not overplaying anything because she doesn’t have to, only striking out when it’s necessary, and then she’s devastating.
It’s not enough to make him hard, lying there cold and tired, and he’s glad. He absolutely doesn’t need to let his mind go somewhere so fruitless, somewhere it might not come back from.