Not A One Night Stand
Characters: Shannon, Sayid, Boone, Shannon's step-mother; mentions of other pairings and characters
Rating: PG13
Words: 3500
Spoilers: For all of Lost
Summary: Since they're technically only visiting LA, Shannon and Sayid have nowhere to go when the party at the church is over. When Boone suggests they crash at his mom's house for a night, Shannon figures "Why not?"
A/N: Written for tellshannon815 for the Five Acts Meme. It took all of my willpower to end it here and not bring the whole gang into it and make it an epic. I'm itching to write a sequel that includes the Sawyer&Miles cop show and setting up Miles/Richard. And apparently I have a lot of feelings about David that I suddenly want to explore. Who knew?
Well, that was awkward.
Shannon has no idea why all of them had to formally sit down just so Jack’s dad could put on a light show and disappear but, um, okay.
Anyway, once that’s over and done with, the party can start. As soon as the light has died down, everybody gets up and resumes the hugging and kissing and catching up. There’s a lot to talk about, and a lot of people to meet. But thankfully, they don’t have to get it all done tonight. They have forever. Eventually, everyone starts milling out of the church and into the parking lot.
As the crowd thins, Shannon looks up at Sayid---though let’s face it, even after having taken her heels off and walking around the church in her bare feet, she’s really looking down at his short-ass self. She feels a chill as she realizes what’s coming next. For the first time, they’re going to be alone, which is kind of scary and kind of new all at once. There was no such thing as alone on the island.
She tries to keep the quaver out of her voice and the flirtation in as she asks, “Your place or mine?” It’s really a figurative question, because she’s technically only visiting LA. All the facts of her real life hold true here; she’s still disowned, homeless, jobless, cashless. She doesn’t have a place, but assumes he does. She vaguely remembers him mentioning his job as a translator… or something.
Shannon’s somewhat surprised to see him flummoxed by the very first practical thing they’ve had to think about. “I usually sleep on my brother’s couch when I visit LA. Even if I didn’t have you with me, it would not be advisable to go back there.”
It’s cryptic, but she’s sure it’s one of those long stories that he’ll get around to telling her another time. “Well, I don’t have anywhere to go, either. I just got off a plane from Australia.” It’s funny how long-ago that feels.
“Where's Hurley? I'm sure he would put us up for the night.” Sayid reasons. The both look around, but the conspicuous yellow Hummer is already pulling away.
It’s a tough one, but Boone---always there when she needs him, and she reminds herself to tell him every day how much she loves him for it---interrupts them. “Where are you guys headed?”
“We were just discussing that,” Sayid replies. “What about you?”
Boone shrugs. “Home, I guess. Jack’s giving me a lift.”
Shannon looks over at the beat-up Jeep Kate’s getting into. Wow, she really would have thought Mr. Hotshot surgeon would have a better ride than that. Funny. Turning back to Boone, she asks, “To your mom’s house?”
“Yeah. Just for a little while. I have to quit the firm and figure out what I want to do next. I need to get a new place of my own. Hey, your room is still there. Why don't you crash there, too?”
“What if she sees us?”
“What’s she going to do? Kill you? Don’t worry, I’ll take the heat if she freaks out.”
Shannon looks at Sayid. “What do you think?”
“Whatever you want. It’s only for one night.”
That’s enough to convince her. “Keep the backdoor unlocked for us.”
“Just like old times.”
“What about Sun and Jin?” Sayid asks, suddenly remembering that they aren’t the only out-of-towners.
“I think they’re crashing at Desmond and Penny’s until they find their own place. Look, they’re waiting for me. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?” Boone shakes Sayid’s hand and then hugs her before jogging over to the Jeep where the Love Quadrangle, incestuous as ever, is waiting for him. Some random kid who’s appeared out of nowhere in also the car with them. Weird. Sawyer waves goodbye and shouts that they’ll see them soon.
Only as they’re driving away does Shannon realize she forgot to get their numbers.
“Don’t worry. We will easily find one another. I know where Hurley lives, and where Jack, Sawyer, and Juliet work. From there, the web spreads,” Sayid says.
There’s nothing to do, not that it matters, so they decide to walk home, all the way from the church to Beverly Hills. It takes hours, but Shannon remembers that Sabrina’s a night owl; she won’t be going to bed anytime soon, which leaves plenty of time for talking. It’s strange, ‘catching up’ when only one of them has been up to anything since they were last together. Even worse is hearing exactly what Sayid was up to. Part of her is glad she wasn’t around for it but…
“If only I hadn’t lost you, none of that would have happened.”
Shannon’s not entirely sure about that---she doubts all of it would have been avoided---but he still gets a kiss for trying.
It’s more than an hour after Boone’s text when they finally arrive at the house. The security code on the gate to the mansion is the same as she remembers it, not just from years ago, but from a lifetime ago. It’s the same code her dad set: Boone’s birthday. She and Sayid walk in the shadows under the trees lining the driveway, and around the house to garden entrance. She’s about to turn the knob to open the backdoor when a thought halts her. Not expecting her to stop so suddenly, Sayid crashes into her back.
“What is it?” he asks.
She turns around to look at him. “Have you ever done this before?”
“Done what?”
“Snuck into a girl’s room after her parents have gone to bed.”
He freezes for a second and then it’s there: the bemused yet eager expression she loves so much. She’d laugh ecstatically if only they didn’t need to keep it down. She’d kiss him if only it wouldn’t cause the expression to go away. It’s endearing how someone so dark can simultaneously be so innocent, how someone so badass can be so easily taken aback.
His mouth twitches; he’s trying not to laugh, too. His cheeks bulge out in the way they always did when he was feeling relaxed, being naughty. He looks just like a chipmunk... not that she’d ever tell him that.
With deadly seriousness, as if to defy his treacherous cheeks, he replies, “The fathers in Tikrit were terrifyingly strict. And the mothers even scarier. I never attempted it until the girls were old enough to live on their own.”
Shannon tries to imagine virginal teenage Sayid. She can’t.
“Well, it’s an art, okay? I’m a pro. First, take your shoes off. And when we’re going up the stairs, put your whole foot down at once. Don’t tiptoe. Lots of people don’t know it, but tiptoeing makes the floorboards creak louder.”
“You would have made an excellent spy.”
“I know.”
She unstraps and he unties and when they’re done, their heads knock together as they stand back up. It actually hurts, which is unexpectedly reassuring. She’d been afraid that knowing she was dead would mean she’d turn into some kind of ghost, but everything feels just as real and physical as it ever did. Speaking of which…
“Shhh…” She places a trembling finger on his lips, which he uses to push the finger back towards her. The unexpected eroticism of such a tiny action is unsurprising; this is Sayid, who could and probably will make sorting the recycling erotic. What’s a little bit surprising and a lot exciting is the understanding that erotic is still allowed here.
There’s a beat where they’re just staring into one another’s eyes. She knows they’re both thinking about it, about what’s going to happen when---if---they make it upstairs without Sabrina hearing them. They’ve been pretty chaste since their initial make-out session, mostly just hand-holding and him doing that thing where he cups her face and pushes her hair behind her ear despite the fact that her hair’s up (and fabulous, by the way) tonight. And they’d only ever done it the one time back on the island, when everything had been all melodramatic and sweaty and… Who knows? All those crazy island circumstances that could have masked some problem.
Which means that now… now’s where they’ll find out if they still fit---if they ever did---or if this is all some weird error of fate. Where she’ll find out if it’s all a colossal joke, that he’s really supposed to be with that Nadia chick or no one at all, and that she should probably just forget it and head down the hall to Boone’s room for an inappropriate cuddle as if the plane had never crashed and she’d never grown up to be anything other than a scared little princess. Because here, technically, the plane never did crash, so she really shouldn’t be the person she became before. And just generally, she still doesn’t get how she could possibly deserve all this, deserve Sayid and all these friends---even new ones, like that cool Juliet person and Hurley’s sweet girlfriend.
With her sandals in hand, she enters the house. Then Sayid’s palm rests against the small of her back, not pressing---just holding without gripping, melding, sweaty. She isn’t looking behind her, but she knows his feet are following her feet, step for step. Something red hot and painfully wonderful coils in her stomach, and she knows that even if she doesn’t deserve it, this is anything but a mistake.
As they climb the stairs in perfect silence, it occurs to her that he probably didn’t need the lecture, what with being Jason Bourne and all. But he was too sweet to call her out on it. Typical.
Ever since she first moved in, at the age of eight, Sabrina has always wanted Shannon as far away as possible, so her room is at the opposite end of the long hallway, down a half-flight of stairs and around a corner. As soon as they’re inside and the door’s shut behind them, Shannon lets out the breath she’s been holding.
“Is it safe to turn on the light?” Sayid asks in the darkness. Shannon answers by flipping on the switch.
He stays by her side, but his eyes wander, taking in their surroundings. Hers do, too. She’s never been back, neither in her old life nor in this one, so she’s never seen what Sabrina did with her room. The bed is still there, with the same lavender sheets, and her old dresser and desk, except tidied and cleared of her belongings. And the old rug with the silk flower detailing, and the old white light fixture she’d always hated because of how harsh it was on her complexion are still there. The blue stain on the wall from where she’d once accidentally flicked ink out of her fountain pen still hasn’t been painted over. But everything else, everything that would have screamed shallow, teenage Shannon---the Leonardo DiCaprio posters, the pink jewelry boxes, the collection of stuffed animals her dad had given her, the photo collage of her middle school friends---all of that’s gone.
She’d figured Sabrina would have cleared all that out the second she’d cleared Shannon out, so she’s hardly surprised, and she’s certainly not disappointed. Mostly, she’s just relieved that Sayid doesn’t have to see it. It had never seemed to matter before that she was so much younger than him, but they’d never been in the ‘real world’ before. On the island, age didn’t matter. Locke had been their best hunter, for crying out loud. And it probably doesn’t matter even now, since there’s no time or age or however Hurley had explained it to them.
But still.
“So this is where you grew up?” he whispers, his voice soft and thoughtful.
“Yeah. This is where I grew up.” But not really, not in the ways that count.
He leads her into the middle of the room and buries his nose in the back of her neck. She shivers as his hair tickles against her cheek. “We could have gone to a hotel. But as soon as Boone suggested this, I hoped you would accept the invitation. I wanted to see this. And I doubt we would have had this excuse another time.”
Leave it to Sayid to say just the right thing. All of Shannon’s discomfort immediately melts away. She wraps her arms around him. “We have to be quiet.”
And they’re definitely quiet. But it’s hardly a problem. Now that he doesn’t have to worry about bugs or getting sand in their hair or crazy people coming to kill them in the night, Sayid can give her his full attention. And now that she doesn’t have to worry about how there’s only three weeks left of her birth control pills or how her armpits smell like sulfer because the hatch shower water is contaminated or about how her feet keep ramming into the suitcase on the other side of the tent, she can finally relax.
As she falls asleep afterwards, she snuggles into him, for the first time experiencing perfect bliss: Sayid and 300 count Egyptian cotton.
The next thing she hears is screeching. Shannon flails a bit and then opens her eyes, only to quickly shut them again when the bright sunlight streaming through the window blinds her. Gah.
“Jesus, shut up, will you! I’m trying to sleep,” she qvetches, forgetting where she is and who she might be speaking to. Saying that she’s never been a morning person would be an understatement; and nothing in life or death has happened to cure that particular shortcoming.
“Shut up? Shut up? What are you doing here?” someone is screaming.
“Sleeping, or at least I was.” It isn’t until the words are already out of her mouth that she realizes why the voice sounds familiar.
“Get. Up.”
Shannon peers one eye open again. Sabrina. Right. Shit.
Beside her, Sayid is rubbing his eyes and pulling the sheets over their naked bodies. It’s already too late, though, because Sabrina has definitely already gotten an eyeful.
Shannon flinches and hurriedly tries to help him. God, this is a million times more embarrassing than him seeing her teddy bears would have been.
Sayid apparently doesn’t share her mortification, because, despite his grogginess (he's kind of bitchy in the morning, too, she remembers), he calmly greets her. “Good morning. I apologize for the intrusion. You are Mrs. Carlyle, I presume.”
Shannon shakes her head in awed disbelief. Being eternally unphased by the island’s insanity was one thing, but how he can somehow manage to exude his whole ‘master of the situation’ vibe while sitting naked and uninvited and totally post-coital in someone else’s house is, like, seriously incredible.
It works, though, because Sabrina immediately stops screaming. Her outrage and suspicion remain as intact as ever, but she’s no fool, and only fools mess with Sayid when he’s being all calm and hot and quietly brimming with danger. She may still have an edge to her voice, but she’s civil when she asks, “And who are you? One of my slut step-daughter’s older men, I presume.”
Sayid’s breath hitches in anger, and his eyes bug out a little as he’s obviously repressing the urge to strangle her, but he remains civil. “My name is Sayid Jarrah, and I am Shannon’s…” He glances at Shannon. He’s never actually said the word before, never really needed to. “…boyfriend.”
It rolls awkwardly off his tongue. Shannon realizes he’s never said it probably because the word never really fit. They didn’t meet in a café or in college or at a party. They aren’t high schoolers. They aren’t grown-ups who maybe will get married in a few years or maybe will break up. They just are.
None of that matters at this particular minute, though. Sabrina’s caught Sayid’s hesitation and clearly doesn’t believe him.
“Like hell you are. I told you never to come back here, Shannon. So what are you thinking, bringing strange men into my house?”
“As I recall, it should be Shannon’s house by rights,” Sayid growls.
“How like you, Shannon. Telling sob-stories and lies to strangers.”
Even besides the obvious, this entire situation is surreal. It’s the first time since the flash that they’ve had to interact with anyone who’s still in the dark. Hurley kept telling them that they aren’t to let on, that they’re just supposed to go about their business, build and live their lives, talk about the truth only with each other yadda yadda yadda. Shannon’s glad this trial run isn’t with anyone she actually likes; otherwise, she’d probably be all, “Look! Let me tell you! Isn’t it great!” and come across as a crazy person.
Sabrina looks at them quizzically. Even without Shannon shouting excitedly, she already thinks they’re crazy. Or assholes. Probably both. Who cares, though?
“I’m calling the cops.”
Sayid catches Shannon’s eye and they both bite back a giggle, reading one another’s minds. Given how things work in this place, she’s pretty sure she knows exactly which cop would come.
“Go ahead. Call them,” she says back, the old insolence creeping into her voice. She may be reformed, but she doesn’t have to take this shit.
“Just make sure you’re out of here in ten minutes,” Sabrina huffs before shutting the door behind her.
Once she’s gone, the two of them fall back against the pillows and stare at the ceiling with hands clasped.
Shannon answers Sayid’s unasked question. “Yeah, she was always like that.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” And finally, it is.
He still doesn’t understand, still wants to protect her or defend her or whatever. “No, it isn’t.”
“I mean, it’s okay now.” She hops out of bed and tosses him his pants. “Come on. Let’s get dressed. I know Boone said he’d take the heat, but I don’t want him to get it too bad.”
She slips yesterday’s party dress over her head while he’s still getting his socks. While she’s here, she might as well see if there’s anything she can take. She’d been so overwhelmed by everything the night before that she’d forgotten to get her duffel from the coatcheck at the club, so she literally only has the clothes on her back and the wallet in her purse.
The dresser drawers are empty, but there are a few old clothes in a plastic bin at the top of the closet. Sayid steadies her as she climbs on a chair to get it down, and he helps her pack them into a small suitcase that she steals from Boone’s room down the hall. He won’t mind.
When they make it downstairs, Sabrina’s on the couch, crying. Boone is standing in front of her, looking vaguely aggrieved, but… better. Like a man. Like how he did on the island when he was getting ready to go on a boar hunt or something. The wishy-washiness is gone from his face. Shannon couldn’t be happier for him.
“Why, Boone? I don’t understand.” Sabrina’s so destroyed that she doesn’t even notice that Sayid and Shannon are there.
“It’s a long story. But I have to do my own thing now.”
“You’ve never been able to stand on your own. You’ll fail.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, mom.”
As Sabrina wipes her tears, she finally sees Sayid and Shannon standing in the corner. Her lip curls in anger; all the anger and sadness she’s feeling about Boone is now directed at them.
“Get out,” she says.
“Whatever.” Shannon waggles her fingers at Boone. He needs to finish this, alone. She raises her fingers to her ear, imitating a phone. “Call me later?”
“Sure thing,” he says.
Sayid nods goodbye to Boone and then they’re of out there. Shannon doesn’t look back.
Rating: PG13
Words: 3500
Spoilers: For all of Lost
Summary: Since they're technically only visiting LA, Shannon and Sayid have nowhere to go when the party at the church is over. When Boone suggests they crash at his mom's house for a night, Shannon figures "Why not?"
A/N: Written for tellshannon815 for the Five Acts Meme. It took all of my willpower to end it here and not bring the whole gang into it and make it an epic. I'm itching to write a sequel that includes the Sawyer&Miles cop show and setting up Miles/Richard. And apparently I have a lot of feelings about David that I suddenly want to explore. Who knew?
Well, that was awkward.
Shannon has no idea why all of them had to formally sit down just so Jack’s dad could put on a light show and disappear but, um, okay.
Anyway, once that’s over and done with, the party can start. As soon as the light has died down, everybody gets up and resumes the hugging and kissing and catching up. There’s a lot to talk about, and a lot of people to meet. But thankfully, they don’t have to get it all done tonight. They have forever. Eventually, everyone starts milling out of the church and into the parking lot.
As the crowd thins, Shannon looks up at Sayid---though let’s face it, even after having taken her heels off and walking around the church in her bare feet, she’s really looking down at his short-ass self. She feels a chill as she realizes what’s coming next. For the first time, they’re going to be alone, which is kind of scary and kind of new all at once. There was no such thing as alone on the island.
She tries to keep the quaver out of her voice and the flirtation in as she asks, “Your place or mine?” It’s really a figurative question, because she’s technically only visiting LA. All the facts of her real life hold true here; she’s still disowned, homeless, jobless, cashless. She doesn’t have a place, but assumes he does. She vaguely remembers him mentioning his job as a translator… or something.
Shannon’s somewhat surprised to see him flummoxed by the very first practical thing they’ve had to think about. “I usually sleep on my brother’s couch when I visit LA. Even if I didn’t have you with me, it would not be advisable to go back there.”
It’s cryptic, but she’s sure it’s one of those long stories that he’ll get around to telling her another time. “Well, I don’t have anywhere to go, either. I just got off a plane from Australia.” It’s funny how long-ago that feels.
“Where's Hurley? I'm sure he would put us up for the night.” Sayid reasons. The both look around, but the conspicuous yellow Hummer is already pulling away.
It’s a tough one, but Boone---always there when she needs him, and she reminds herself to tell him every day how much she loves him for it---interrupts them. “Where are you guys headed?”
“We were just discussing that,” Sayid replies. “What about you?”
Boone shrugs. “Home, I guess. Jack’s giving me a lift.”
Shannon looks over at the beat-up Jeep Kate’s getting into. Wow, she really would have thought Mr. Hotshot surgeon would have a better ride than that. Funny. Turning back to Boone, she asks, “To your mom’s house?”
“Yeah. Just for a little while. I have to quit the firm and figure out what I want to do next. I need to get a new place of my own. Hey, your room is still there. Why don't you crash there, too?”
“What if she sees us?”
“What’s she going to do? Kill you? Don’t worry, I’ll take the heat if she freaks out.”
Shannon looks at Sayid. “What do you think?”
“Whatever you want. It’s only for one night.”
That’s enough to convince her. “Keep the backdoor unlocked for us.”
“Just like old times.”
“What about Sun and Jin?” Sayid asks, suddenly remembering that they aren’t the only out-of-towners.
“I think they’re crashing at Desmond and Penny’s until they find their own place. Look, they’re waiting for me. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?” Boone shakes Sayid’s hand and then hugs her before jogging over to the Jeep where the Love Quadrangle, incestuous as ever, is waiting for him. Some random kid who’s appeared out of nowhere in also the car with them. Weird. Sawyer waves goodbye and shouts that they’ll see them soon.
Only as they’re driving away does Shannon realize she forgot to get their numbers.
“Don’t worry. We will easily find one another. I know where Hurley lives, and where Jack, Sawyer, and Juliet work. From there, the web spreads,” Sayid says.
There’s nothing to do, not that it matters, so they decide to walk home, all the way from the church to Beverly Hills. It takes hours, but Shannon remembers that Sabrina’s a night owl; she won’t be going to bed anytime soon, which leaves plenty of time for talking. It’s strange, ‘catching up’ when only one of them has been up to anything since they were last together. Even worse is hearing exactly what Sayid was up to. Part of her is glad she wasn’t around for it but…
“If only I hadn’t lost you, none of that would have happened.”
Shannon’s not entirely sure about that---she doubts all of it would have been avoided---but he still gets a kiss for trying.
It’s more than an hour after Boone’s text when they finally arrive at the house. The security code on the gate to the mansion is the same as she remembers it, not just from years ago, but from a lifetime ago. It’s the same code her dad set: Boone’s birthday. She and Sayid walk in the shadows under the trees lining the driveway, and around the house to garden entrance. She’s about to turn the knob to open the backdoor when a thought halts her. Not expecting her to stop so suddenly, Sayid crashes into her back.
“What is it?” he asks.
She turns around to look at him. “Have you ever done this before?”
“Done what?”
“Snuck into a girl’s room after her parents have gone to bed.”
He freezes for a second and then it’s there: the bemused yet eager expression she loves so much. She’d laugh ecstatically if only they didn’t need to keep it down. She’d kiss him if only it wouldn’t cause the expression to go away. It’s endearing how someone so dark can simultaneously be so innocent, how someone so badass can be so easily taken aback.
His mouth twitches; he’s trying not to laugh, too. His cheeks bulge out in the way they always did when he was feeling relaxed, being naughty. He looks just like a chipmunk... not that she’d ever tell him that.
With deadly seriousness, as if to defy his treacherous cheeks, he replies, “The fathers in Tikrit were terrifyingly strict. And the mothers even scarier. I never attempted it until the girls were old enough to live on their own.”
Shannon tries to imagine virginal teenage Sayid. She can’t.
“Well, it’s an art, okay? I’m a pro. First, take your shoes off. And when we’re going up the stairs, put your whole foot down at once. Don’t tiptoe. Lots of people don’t know it, but tiptoeing makes the floorboards creak louder.”
“You would have made an excellent spy.”
“I know.”
She unstraps and he unties and when they’re done, their heads knock together as they stand back up. It actually hurts, which is unexpectedly reassuring. She’d been afraid that knowing she was dead would mean she’d turn into some kind of ghost, but everything feels just as real and physical as it ever did. Speaking of which…
“Shhh…” She places a trembling finger on his lips, which he uses to push the finger back towards her. The unexpected eroticism of such a tiny action is unsurprising; this is Sayid, who could and probably will make sorting the recycling erotic. What’s a little bit surprising and a lot exciting is the understanding that erotic is still allowed here.
There’s a beat where they’re just staring into one another’s eyes. She knows they’re both thinking about it, about what’s going to happen when---if---they make it upstairs without Sabrina hearing them. They’ve been pretty chaste since their initial make-out session, mostly just hand-holding and him doing that thing where he cups her face and pushes her hair behind her ear despite the fact that her hair’s up (and fabulous, by the way) tonight. And they’d only ever done it the one time back on the island, when everything had been all melodramatic and sweaty and… Who knows? All those crazy island circumstances that could have masked some problem.
Which means that now… now’s where they’ll find out if they still fit---if they ever did---or if this is all some weird error of fate. Where she’ll find out if it’s all a colossal joke, that he’s really supposed to be with that Nadia chick or no one at all, and that she should probably just forget it and head down the hall to Boone’s room for an inappropriate cuddle as if the plane had never crashed and she’d never grown up to be anything other than a scared little princess. Because here, technically, the plane never did crash, so she really shouldn’t be the person she became before. And just generally, she still doesn’t get how she could possibly deserve all this, deserve Sayid and all these friends---even new ones, like that cool Juliet person and Hurley’s sweet girlfriend.
With her sandals in hand, she enters the house. Then Sayid’s palm rests against the small of her back, not pressing---just holding without gripping, melding, sweaty. She isn’t looking behind her, but she knows his feet are following her feet, step for step. Something red hot and painfully wonderful coils in her stomach, and she knows that even if she doesn’t deserve it, this is anything but a mistake.
As they climb the stairs in perfect silence, it occurs to her that he probably didn’t need the lecture, what with being Jason Bourne and all. But he was too sweet to call her out on it. Typical.
Ever since she first moved in, at the age of eight, Sabrina has always wanted Shannon as far away as possible, so her room is at the opposite end of the long hallway, down a half-flight of stairs and around a corner. As soon as they’re inside and the door’s shut behind them, Shannon lets out the breath she’s been holding.
“Is it safe to turn on the light?” Sayid asks in the darkness. Shannon answers by flipping on the switch.
He stays by her side, but his eyes wander, taking in their surroundings. Hers do, too. She’s never been back, neither in her old life nor in this one, so she’s never seen what Sabrina did with her room. The bed is still there, with the same lavender sheets, and her old dresser and desk, except tidied and cleared of her belongings. And the old rug with the silk flower detailing, and the old white light fixture she’d always hated because of how harsh it was on her complexion are still there. The blue stain on the wall from where she’d once accidentally flicked ink out of her fountain pen still hasn’t been painted over. But everything else, everything that would have screamed shallow, teenage Shannon---the Leonardo DiCaprio posters, the pink jewelry boxes, the collection of stuffed animals her dad had given her, the photo collage of her middle school friends---all of that’s gone.
She’d figured Sabrina would have cleared all that out the second she’d cleared Shannon out, so she’s hardly surprised, and she’s certainly not disappointed. Mostly, she’s just relieved that Sayid doesn’t have to see it. It had never seemed to matter before that she was so much younger than him, but they’d never been in the ‘real world’ before. On the island, age didn’t matter. Locke had been their best hunter, for crying out loud. And it probably doesn’t matter even now, since there’s no time or age or however Hurley had explained it to them.
But still.
“So this is where you grew up?” he whispers, his voice soft and thoughtful.
“Yeah. This is where I grew up.” But not really, not in the ways that count.
He leads her into the middle of the room and buries his nose in the back of her neck. She shivers as his hair tickles against her cheek. “We could have gone to a hotel. But as soon as Boone suggested this, I hoped you would accept the invitation. I wanted to see this. And I doubt we would have had this excuse another time.”
Leave it to Sayid to say just the right thing. All of Shannon’s discomfort immediately melts away. She wraps her arms around him. “We have to be quiet.”
And they’re definitely quiet. But it’s hardly a problem. Now that he doesn’t have to worry about bugs or getting sand in their hair or crazy people coming to kill them in the night, Sayid can give her his full attention. And now that she doesn’t have to worry about how there’s only three weeks left of her birth control pills or how her armpits smell like sulfer because the hatch shower water is contaminated or about how her feet keep ramming into the suitcase on the other side of the tent, she can finally relax.
As she falls asleep afterwards, she snuggles into him, for the first time experiencing perfect bliss: Sayid and 300 count Egyptian cotton.
The next thing she hears is screeching. Shannon flails a bit and then opens her eyes, only to quickly shut them again when the bright sunlight streaming through the window blinds her. Gah.
“Jesus, shut up, will you! I’m trying to sleep,” she qvetches, forgetting where she is and who she might be speaking to. Saying that she’s never been a morning person would be an understatement; and nothing in life or death has happened to cure that particular shortcoming.
“Shut up? Shut up? What are you doing here?” someone is screaming.
“Sleeping, or at least I was.” It isn’t until the words are already out of her mouth that she realizes why the voice sounds familiar.
“Get. Up.”
Shannon peers one eye open again. Sabrina. Right. Shit.
Beside her, Sayid is rubbing his eyes and pulling the sheets over their naked bodies. It’s already too late, though, because Sabrina has definitely already gotten an eyeful.
Shannon flinches and hurriedly tries to help him. God, this is a million times more embarrassing than him seeing her teddy bears would have been.
Sayid apparently doesn’t share her mortification, because, despite his grogginess (he's kind of bitchy in the morning, too, she remembers), he calmly greets her. “Good morning. I apologize for the intrusion. You are Mrs. Carlyle, I presume.”
Shannon shakes her head in awed disbelief. Being eternally unphased by the island’s insanity was one thing, but how he can somehow manage to exude his whole ‘master of the situation’ vibe while sitting naked and uninvited and totally post-coital in someone else’s house is, like, seriously incredible.
It works, though, because Sabrina immediately stops screaming. Her outrage and suspicion remain as intact as ever, but she’s no fool, and only fools mess with Sayid when he’s being all calm and hot and quietly brimming with danger. She may still have an edge to her voice, but she’s civil when she asks, “And who are you? One of my slut step-daughter’s older men, I presume.”
Sayid’s breath hitches in anger, and his eyes bug out a little as he’s obviously repressing the urge to strangle her, but he remains civil. “My name is Sayid Jarrah, and I am Shannon’s…” He glances at Shannon. He’s never actually said the word before, never really needed to. “…boyfriend.”
It rolls awkwardly off his tongue. Shannon realizes he’s never said it probably because the word never really fit. They didn’t meet in a café or in college or at a party. They aren’t high schoolers. They aren’t grown-ups who maybe will get married in a few years or maybe will break up. They just are.
None of that matters at this particular minute, though. Sabrina’s caught Sayid’s hesitation and clearly doesn’t believe him.
“Like hell you are. I told you never to come back here, Shannon. So what are you thinking, bringing strange men into my house?”
“As I recall, it should be Shannon’s house by rights,” Sayid growls.
“How like you, Shannon. Telling sob-stories and lies to strangers.”
Even besides the obvious, this entire situation is surreal. It’s the first time since the flash that they’ve had to interact with anyone who’s still in the dark. Hurley kept telling them that they aren’t to let on, that they’re just supposed to go about their business, build and live their lives, talk about the truth only with each other yadda yadda yadda. Shannon’s glad this trial run isn’t with anyone she actually likes; otherwise, she’d probably be all, “Look! Let me tell you! Isn’t it great!” and come across as a crazy person.
Sabrina looks at them quizzically. Even without Shannon shouting excitedly, she already thinks they’re crazy. Or assholes. Probably both. Who cares, though?
“I’m calling the cops.”
Sayid catches Shannon’s eye and they both bite back a giggle, reading one another’s minds. Given how things work in this place, she’s pretty sure she knows exactly which cop would come.
“Go ahead. Call them,” she says back, the old insolence creeping into her voice. She may be reformed, but she doesn’t have to take this shit.
“Just make sure you’re out of here in ten minutes,” Sabrina huffs before shutting the door behind her.
Once she’s gone, the two of them fall back against the pillows and stare at the ceiling with hands clasped.
Shannon answers Sayid’s unasked question. “Yeah, she was always like that.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” And finally, it is.
He still doesn’t understand, still wants to protect her or defend her or whatever. “No, it isn’t.”
“I mean, it’s okay now.” She hops out of bed and tosses him his pants. “Come on. Let’s get dressed. I know Boone said he’d take the heat, but I don’t want him to get it too bad.”
She slips yesterday’s party dress over her head while he’s still getting his socks. While she’s here, she might as well see if there’s anything she can take. She’d been so overwhelmed by everything the night before that she’d forgotten to get her duffel from the coatcheck at the club, so she literally only has the clothes on her back and the wallet in her purse.
The dresser drawers are empty, but there are a few old clothes in a plastic bin at the top of the closet. Sayid steadies her as she climbs on a chair to get it down, and he helps her pack them into a small suitcase that she steals from Boone’s room down the hall. He won’t mind.
When they make it downstairs, Sabrina’s on the couch, crying. Boone is standing in front of her, looking vaguely aggrieved, but… better. Like a man. Like how he did on the island when he was getting ready to go on a boar hunt or something. The wishy-washiness is gone from his face. Shannon couldn’t be happier for him.
“Why, Boone? I don’t understand.” Sabrina’s so destroyed that she doesn’t even notice that Sayid and Shannon are there.
“It’s a long story. But I have to do my own thing now.”
“You’ve never been able to stand on your own. You’ll fail.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, mom.”
As Sabrina wipes her tears, she finally sees Sayid and Shannon standing in the corner. Her lip curls in anger; all the anger and sadness she’s feeling about Boone is now directed at them.
“Get out,” she says.
“Whatever.” Shannon waggles her fingers at Boone. He needs to finish this, alone. She raises her fingers to her ear, imitating a phone. “Call me later?”
“Sure thing,” he says.
Sayid nods goodbye to Boone and then they’re of out there. Shannon doesn’t look back.