(Untitled)

[friggin_gift]

His body is on the bed. He's covered up to his neck, only his cut face--still with spots of dried blood on it--is exposed.

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[sendpeanutbtr]

If Claire had left the Bar on Friday like she had planned, she wouldn't have just happened to be sitting next to the observation window when they returned from the island. She wouldn't have heard the collective gasps of the patrons sitting closest to the door and she wouldn't have turned to see--

(someone she's been searching for)

--Sawyer carrying Boone's prone body up the stairs. Nor would she have seen Shannon and Sun following close behind.

But she was there, in the bar, when they came in, and she did see.

And she followed them.

She knocks on Boone's door gently, and then enters, taking in the scene before turning to Sawyer, her eyes wide.

"What happened?"

[sendpeanutbtr]

"There's no dance," she frowns and wipes her eyes stubbornly.

"You really think we can 'get him patched up'?"

[confidence_man]

He shrugs. "Maybe. Better than just shoving him in the ground."

[sendpeanutbtr]

"Yes," she agrees quietly and then peers up at him, her eyes still glistening with tears.

"Thank you for bringing him back."

[confidence_man]

He just grunts in reply.

[sendpeanutbtr]

She looks away and bites her lip. There is so much she wants to say, to ask, but now isn't the time, and. . . well. He probably wouldn't have much to say to her anyway.

"I should check on Shannon," she murmurs.

And she should, because for all that she doesn't want to move away from this spot beside him, Shannon shouldn't be alone right now.

[confidence_man]

"Alright."

He waits until she's turned to walk away to look at her. It's safer that way.

Damn, he's missed her.