Here and Now
"He kisses her back, and she knows with sudden clarity that her wish has been granted. Everything has changed, starting now." Shannon/Sayid, Lost
Summary: "He kisses her back, and she knows with sudden clarity that her wish has been granted. Everything has changed, starting now." Shannon/Sayid, 938 words. Unbetaed, so there's your fair warning. Spoilers for "...In Translation".
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She's never wanted a fresh start as much as she does right now, watching him by the flickering fire. He's exactly her type, and once upon a time, she would have wanted him for all the wrong reasons. But for once, she wants to want him for the right ones.
She kisses him as a thank you, an apology, a promise of change, of things to come. She kisses him because she wants to, because for once, she has all the right reasons. He kisses her back, and she knows with sudden clarity that her wish has been granted.
Everything has changed, starting now.
He comes to her two days later. "Walk with me," he says. The sun skims the waterline as they walk on the shore, the water lapping at their bare feet. They talk about everything and nothing, walking until the sun's well below the horizon and the sky is scattered with stars. He laughs, a deep, throaty laugh, when she points out the one constellation she knows. "It's one of the Dippers, I don't know which one, but it's the only one I can ever see." He takes her hand and together they find Orion - his favorite. She's not surprised.
She watches him work on the raft for almost a week before one day she snaps. He's taking a water break when she marches up to him, grabs his hand, and pulls him into the forest with her. The moment they're out of sight she grabs his shirt and kisses him. "You've been doing manual labor in jeans and a wifebeater for six days straight. Every girl's got a breaking point," she says by way of explanation. He smirks at her, makes a smart-ass comment about her bikini-wearing habits, and kisses her before she can respond. "Turnabout is fair play," he mumbles against her mouth. Somehow she ends up backed up against a tree, his hands roaming under the hem of her top, and she's ready to concede game, set, and match.
She gets in the habit of coming to his tent as the sun dips low in the sky and the camp quiets for the night. Tonight he’s studying Rousseau's maps when she enters. "I'll never get any work done with you around," he says, an exasperated and amused tone to his voice. "You're a bad influence."
She straddles his legs, her knees sinking into the blanket-covered sand. "What's that saying?" she says, leaning her arms on his shoulders and touching her forehead to his. "Something about 'lead me not into temptation'..." Her elbows resting on his shoulders, she bends her arms and reaches back to untie the knot at the base of her neck. The straps of her bikini top slide down her shoulders. Grinning wickedly, she continues. "I can find the way myself."
His lips press against hers as his hands slide up her nearly-bare back. His fingers undo the clasp just below her shoulder blades, and she shivers with the sensation of it as the fabric falls away. There are times when being with him makes her feel comfortable and safe; when he's cradling her in his arms as they watch sunsets and sunrises, she thinks she's never felt more protected in her life. But when he kisses her like this, she's reminded just how woefully exposed she is. She's used to having the upper hand with men and relationships, used to commanding the when and how of these things. Used to being in control. She may have made the first move, but the idea of being in control here, with him, is laughable. She's at the mercy of his slightly-chapped lips brushing against her neck, his warm, callused hands gripping her waist. She knows it, revels in it. The old Shannon Rutherford, queen bitch of Los Angeles, would have scoffed at the idea of someone having that much power over her. The new Shannon - 20 years old, resident of Craphole Island- is too exhilarated to worry much about the rest.
Three nights later she's awakened by the sound of ragged breathing. She opens her eyes and sees him on the other end of the tent, his arms leaning on his updrawn knees, his head in his hands. She crawls over to him and places her hands over his own, prompting him to look at her. His eyes are dark, blank almost, but she can see the quiet despair he's trying to cover up. She doesn't say anything, just kisses him softly, her lips a whisper against his. Pulling on his wrist, she gets him to lie down again. She stretches out in front of him, her back to his chest, and wraps his arm across her stomach. Still gripping his hand, she almost drifts off to sleep when suddenly he speaks, his breath ruffling the hair on the back of her neck.
"Her name was Nadia."
She turns in his arms, facing him, encouraging him with her eyes to continue. He does, haltingly. She can tell this is something he never talks about, under normal circumstances. The fact that he trusts her this much makes her rethink things. Maybe it's not about control or balance of power or anything else that she's lived her whole life by. Maybe it's just two people who need something the other can give. And she's okay with that. So she tightens her arms around him, closes her eyes, and gives what she can.
And this is how it is between them. Every second erases what they thought they knew, bringing to light the new life they've been given, here in this place.
end
Posted by Carrie on 05:57 AM