Belonging

The day after Shannon's asthma problem is solved, I wake up feeling as if I'm going to die. Every muscle in my body aches, screaming when I try to move. My head pounds, my mouth tastes like death, and I break out into a cold sweat, stomach twisting painfully.

"Oh God," I manage to grind out.

"What's wrong?"

I blink, taken by surprise. It's not that I necessarily thought I was alone or anything, but Jack's voice is so close. Like, in bed with me close. Like, too close to be around other people close, because his voice makes me want to rub myself all over him.

"I don't feel so good," I tell him. I sound like a little kid my voice is so weak. Slowly, I force myself to roll over and sit up. My stomach lurches, but I manage not to dry heave or anything.

Jack's sitting next to me, legs folded underneath him. We're sharing a blanket, and he's sitting so close to me that I can feel his body heat. He's working, but he's got his shirt open in deference to the heat, and beads of sweat dot along his forehead and roll down his chest. There are several hotel sewing kits on the blanket, and he's got a bunch of needles stuck in a roll of gauze next to him.

He was looking at a needle, but he set it down when I told him how I felt. Concern is evident on his face as he feels my forehead, and then takes my pulse. "Can you be more specific? What's wrong?"

"I'm sore." I'm trying not to respond to his touch. Even with the soreness and death-feel hanging over me, the feel of his calloused hands on the sensitive skin on my wrist sends thrills through me.

I swallow. "My head hurts. My entire body is sore, especially my back and neck. I feel like I'm going to throw up, and my throat aches."

His thumb rubs over my pulse point soothingly. "Did you feel like this last night?" And I can hear him thinking things like malaria and jungle fever along with things like posttraumatic stress syndrome and hysteria.

He's not very far off by thinking the latter. I mean, it's me. I missed an entire semester of school because I was convinced that I was dying of cancer. I never left the apartment unless I absolutely had to. So, the idea this might be psychosomatic might not be off base.

But, really, this is different. I can feel the difference. It's not just in my mind; my entire body is aching and sore.

"No, I was okay," I say. "I mean, maybe a little sore or something. Uncomfortable. But not like this."

"Where does it hurt the worst?"

I gesture vaguely over my body. "My back. Thighs. Neck."

"Roll over."

I do so, very, very slowly. Ever muscle screams as I do, and I'm panting by the time I'm on my stomach.

Jack pulls my shirt up and starts running careful hands over my back. I yelp as he hits some soft, squishy bruises.

"Sorry," he says softly, and he brushes his lips over the spot he just hurt.

My breath catches. "It's cool."

He continues his exploration of my back, kissing me any time I make any indication of discomfort.

I have to fight back the urge to warn Jack that people might see. He just doesn't seem to care. Last night when we came back from the pool, he kept his hand on my hip as we walked through the camp. I don't know if anyone noticed, but they will soon. I just wonder what will happen when they do.

"I think you're okay," he finally says. He helps me roll back over and has me stick out my tongue. Then he feels my neck and does his best to take my temperature before he says, "Yeah, I don't think you're sick. It's just Sawyer. He gave you a rough once-over, and you didn't feel it yesterday because your adrenaline was running so high. You're down off the high now, so you're feeling everything." Jack grabs a bottle of water and hands it to me. "The best you can do is rest and stretch out a little. I'll heat some towels and put on your back, and I think I remember seeing some Ben-Gay somewhere." He grins. "I can give you a rub down."

I blush. "Yeah, maybe." My stomach growls. "So, um. I'm going to live? I mean, you're sure it's not anything serious?"

"I'm positive." He kisses my forehead and rises. "I'll go get you something to eat."

"Thanks." I watch him go. Then, very painfully, I force myself to my feet. Despite the heat and the fact it's barely midmorning and I'm already sweating like a horse, I really have to pee.

I find a secluded bunch of trees some ways away from the camp. It's obvious that others have used it before, but it's not gross or anything. After two weeks of being out here, I'm used to using the great outdoors as my port-a-potty. The only problem is, well, it's in the open. And, right now, my skin is crawling because I can just imagine Sawyer lurking behind a tree, watching me.

"Hey," a voice says suddenly, startling me.

"Jesus!" I swear. I mean, it's Shannon, and I shouldn't be scared, but I am. And angry that I let someone sneak up on me like this. "What the hell, Shan?" I demand after zipping up.

"Oh, come on." She rolls her eyes. "It's not like I've never seen a guy taking a leak before."

"I'm your brother." Not that it matters to her. Shannon's got the world divided into two camps: herself and the rest of the world. She doesn't differentiate among the rest of us, and while she'd never cross certain lines, that doesn't stop her from not observing normal lines of decency with us all. "What do you want."

"Two things. First of all, congratulations on not being an asshole. Instead of going for the obvious, you manage to bag the only decent man here." Her smile turns positively evil. "I hope I'm around when Kate finds out. She's going to eat you alive."

"Um, thanks."

"Second, I hope that the fact that you're playing doctor with the doctor doesn't make you think we're staying here. Because I'm going back to the beach today. And you're coming, too."

"I'm sick."

"You're always sick. Remember when you had cancer? Or the time you thought you were autistic? Or what about the time..."

"Okay!" I say loudly, cheeks burning with shame. "I'm not sick. But Sawyer beat me, and I'm feeling it today. There's no way I'm up to trekking through the woods back to the beach."

"You're not leaving me out there alone," she tells me, and she gets really close to me, expression fierce.

I step back, heart pounding. I know Shannon loves me in her own twisted way and everything, but sometimes I have to wonder if she sees the irony of what she does to me. She's such a bully and I just take it most of the time. Especially now that we're out here and I don't know what else to do. She's the only thing I have.

Except, she's not, and I know that. I desperately want to believe it, too. "I'm staying here." And then, "Today," slips out before I can stop it.

Shannon smiles. "Come back by tonight, or I'll make you regret it."

"Fine," I hear myself agreeing, and I feel so stupid, so weak. But I say it and she hears it and it's a verbal contract. Binding.


Feeling even worse than I had before, I stumble back to camp.

"Hey," Jack says, finding me stretched on my stomach inside one of the caves sometime later. "I've been looking for you. Where have you been?"

"I'm going back to the beach," I say into my arms.

"What?"

I lift my head and repeat, "I'm going back to the beach." Then, more emotionally drained than tired, I let my head fall again.

"Why?" Jack asks, and he sounds well and truly baffled. I feel his fingers ghost over my back, and I shiver.

"Because. I told Shannon I would." And it's just about the worst excuse ever, and I realize that. But I've spent the last few years learning the futility of trying to come up with a good lie or even good excuses. Why waste the mental energy on coming up with *reasons* when you need it later to put yourself back together?

"You told Shannon you would," Jack repeats. "You told Shannon. Why is Shannon so insistent that you go back to the beach? Her medication is here. I'm here. The water is here. "

"I know." I push myself up to a sitting position and turn to face him. I notice that he's hung a blanket or something over the entrance of the cave, which means we're alone. Despite the fact I feel like crap, I'm actually interested in taking advantage of this. "It's like Shannon thinks all the cute guys will be taken or something if we're not the first ones on the boat. I've tried to tell her that they won't leave until we're all rescued, but she's insistent."

Jack moves closer to me. "But, Boone, Sawyer is on the beach."

I snort. "No kidding," I retort sarcastically. The moment the words leave my mouth, I stiffen and flinch away.

"Did you remind her about that?" Jack asks, completely ignoring the fact that I'm being a total bitch.

"She wouldn't be interested," I say, opening my eyes. Jack is standing well away from me, arms loosely by his sides.

Right. Hero.

"She knows I'm with you, so she thinks that it's all okay now. She was afraid I'd get together with him, but now I'm not so... Maybe she's even thinking that it'll stop us from moving too quickly."

Jack ducks his head so he can see my eyes. I guess whatever he sees there satisfies him, because he reaches out and takes my hand. "I can see her logic," he says, threading our fingers together, "but I think Sawyer represents a bigger threat than the two of you are willing to admit. I'm really afraid of what he'll do to you if you're alone out there with him."

"I won't..."

"Boone. He was stabbed in an artery yesterday, and he still managed to drag his ass through the jungle to watch you swimming naked," Jack cuts me off, voice firm.

"I can't say no to her," I whisper, feeling like the stupidest fucking person in the word. I can't look at him. "Besides. If I'm not there, I wouldn't put it past Sawyer to..." I break off, swallowing.

"Well. I guess," Jack concedes.

"Besides," I say. "It's not about me. Him wanting me, I mean. He's trying to stake his claim or something. Take what he sees as yours. Kate. Me."

Jack thinks about this a second, and then shakes his head. "If you'd said this two days ago, I'd agree with you, but I'm not so sure now. He's got some... need to be punished. I think that, in some way, he wanted what happened yesterday. Not the extreme it went to. Not the." He stops talking and swallows hard. "But when I punched him when he came for water, he seemed.... Okay, yes, proud that he'd pushed me to it, but kind of like he'd been wanting that to happen." He cups my cheek and runs a thumb over my lips. "I was watching you, before. Before I saw you watching me, I mean. And, from the very beginning, I saw the way he looked at you. It's the same with Kate. Maybe I'm a part of it, but he wants both of you because you're both dynamic, beautiful people that attract him."

I pull away from him and wrap my arms around my legs, which are drawn to my chest. "Sometimes I hate..." I stop before I say me.

"Boone," Jack sighs. He leans in and kisses me very softly on the lips. Then, resting his forehead against mine, he whispers, "You know, it's not a character flaw. Being attractive. Even when you attract asshole jerks. They just see the same thing in you that I do. You're beautiful, Boone, in so many different ways." Very gently, Jack caresses my jaw with his calloused fingers, sending soft thrills down my spine.

"I have to go," I tell him, leaning in for another kiss. "I already promised Shannon. It'll be fine, I promise. I'll come here every day. Or I'll meet up with you somewhere. I won't let him get to me."

He pulls back and searches my face. "You need to do this, don't you?" he asks. His thumbs smooth over my cheekbones. "To prove it to yourself. So you can stand up to him."

"I don't know," I answer honestly. Truth is, I'm afraid I won't even be able to talk if I see him again. "But I do know that the longer I wait, the harder it will be to face him again."

"You're probably right," Jack sighs. He rests his forehead against mine again. "I don't have to like this, though."

I smile. "No, you don't. But I don't really like it, either."

"Well." And he smiles that goofy smile. "Just as long as we agree."

"Yeah," I reply, allowing him to slowly push me onto my back. "We do."

Jack kisses me, long and sweet. "Do you always keep your promises?" he asks, whispering into my mouth. Then he kisses me again; his tongue enters with sure, strong strokes.

I'm gasping when we break apart, hot and flushed.

"Well?" Jack asks, propping himself over me. "Do you?"

"What?" I ask, unable to remember the question.

"Do you always keep your promises?"

I blink. I feel cloudy and hazy, like I don't quite exist. Only in a good way. "I try," I tell him. "I take things like that seriously."

"Then promise me that you'll be safe on the beach. Don't be afraid to fight back if Sawyer comes for you."

I look away. "That I can't promise. It's not something I can control."

Jack kisses me. "Promise me you'll try. That's all I'm asking, okay? Try."

"I can try." I tug him back down and kiss him hungrily. I have to go back to the beach. My bitch of a sister is manipulating me into doing this and it's not fair and I'm really pissed, but she's my sister. And I'm the only one she has.

Jack helps me out of my shirt, but when I try to take off my jeans, he hesitates. "I don't want to move too fast," he whispers, biting my neck.

I ignore his protests and wiggle out of my jeans and boxers. We've already passed too fast yesterday and I'm already here. Besides, it's not like I'm some blushing virgin.

I don't know what I was expecting when I kicked my clothes off, but it certainly wasn't Jack's eyes to light up like it was Christmas or something. I'm just about to suggest he take off his clothes too, when he stretched out on the ground and slides his lips over my cock.

"Fuck!" I shout, and, damn, these caves carry sound *really* well. I can hear my cry echoing through the space, and it seems to press down on my skin and ring in my ears.

Jack laughs around my cock and slides down further. His mouth is very wet and warm. His tongue strokes along the bottom of my shaft, pressing into the throbbing vein. I'm sweating and writhing as he sucks me. My fingers dig into the dirt and I'm humping into his mouth, trying to get deeper.

Strong hands hold my hips down so I can't thrust. Jack's mouth opens wider, and he slides down with a wet, slurping sound.

I groan loudly and it bounces back at me, sounding obscene. Jack takes my cock in further, not all the way, and I can feel him kind of gagging around me, but it feels so fucking good. His hand is wrapped around the base of my cock, jacking what he can't swallow. I'm hot and sweaty and overheated and so, so aroused, I feel like I'm going to explode.

I could die now and be perfectly happy.

Suddenly, Jack does some kind of move with his tongue that *no one* has ever done before. It swirls over the head of my cock and down and.... God, I don't even know because the moment he starts, I come hard and *loudly*.

"Oh, God," I manage, spent. "What the *hell* was that?" I push myself up on limp, useless muscles.

Jack grins and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. "Like it?"

"Fuck yeah." And I rise on my knees and push into him. I kiss him, tasting myself on his tongue as I take control of his mouth. I almost never act like this, forceful and stuff, and it feels so good. Jack sort of falls back as I tug his pants open.

I haven't actually seen his cock yet, and as I pull it out, I break the kiss so I can see it. Now I've never actually seen a cock I didn't like, but there have been a few I like more than other's. Jack's is definitely one of those. Although not the biggest I've ever seen, it's perfectly shaped and just... gorgeous. A few drops of precome bead at the slit, and I run my thumb over it gently.

Jack gasps, head falling back. His eyes are shut, mouth open.

I smile and do it again.

He bites his lip, muffling a moan.

Carefully, I start jacking him off, torn between watching his beautiful cock as he slides through my hand and his face. He's so quiet as I work him, all breathy moans and silent gasps. His face twists as I tug, and his hands grip my shoulders.

I move my hand faster, twisting my wrist as I move from root to tip, and squeezing as I stroke back.

"Boone," he says suddenly, eyes flying open.

Feeling him tense, I reach underneath and roll his balls in the palm of my hand. As soon as I touch them, he comes. No sound escapes his mouth, but his body trembles and he exhales hard as he pours over my hand.

Jack slumps back to the ground and stretches out over the makeshift bed I set up.

I feel suddenly awkward and not sure what to do. I've only ever had one real lover, and after sex he... he could be weird. But Jack isn't like R.J., so...

"Come here," Jack says, rolling onto his back. His arms open, and he looks at me through heavy-lidded eyes.

I lie down next to him, resting my head in the crook of his arm. "Was that good?" I ask. I hate myself for sounding so unsure.

"It was fantastic," he assures me. He kisses my forehead. "God, you are so beautiful when you come." Jack rolls onto his side and just looks at me for the longest moment. "I mean, beautiful period. My God," he whispers, looking at me. Gently, almost reverently, he wipes sweat from my forehead and shakes his head. "So beautiful."

"Stop," I say, face hot.

"Did you ever do any modeling or anything?"

I blush and look away. "I was approached a few times. Quite a few times in college. By legitimate agencies, too. R.J. wouldn't let me."

I don't know if I've ever said his name to Jack before, but, of course, Jack knows. His face changes and he caresses my cheek with his knuckles, something I notice he does a lot when I'm upset.

"Well, the moment we get rescued, I'm taking you to the nearest agency and signing you up. You could make a fortune, and you deserve to be worshiped."

"Thanks." I don't know what else to say. I just close my eyes, listening to his heart rate slow to normal.

I feel... safe.

I don't know when I drift off, but when I open my eyes again, Jack is gone. There's a small bowl of water and some soap at my feet next to a pile of clothes. I wonder if I should be offended at the implication or grateful for the soap.

I settle on being grateful and wash the best I can.

After I dress, I leave the cave. There are some people sitting outside, and when I come out, they get very tense and quiet. A lot of eyes are averted, and I hear throats clear.

Fantastic. Everyone knows. I feel like I've got "Queer" tattooed on my forehead.

"Leaving?" Jack asks. He's digging through bags with Hurley. Charlie's nearby, serenading Claire with his guitar. He's got a good voice, actually, and he knows how to play the guitar. Claire looks like she's in heaven, listening and rubbing her belly softly.

Jack grabs my hand like he senses my attention has wandered. "Boone?"

I tear my eyes away from the happy couple and back to my... Boyfriend? Lover?

My Jack.

"Yeah. I should get going."

"How do you feel?"

"Better." I give him a half-smile. "The work-out helped unknot the kinks."

I get the goofy, happy smile in return, and it's all I can do not to bend down to kiss him. But not in front of everyone like this. He might...

Well, no. He wouldn't get mad, would he?

"Please, stay." Jack tugs me to my knees. "Shannon knows how to get here and back just fine. She doesn't need you out there with her."

"Yes," I sigh. "She does. Jack, she doesn't have anyone else. She doesn't make friends like I do. And I'm doing a bad job except for you." I sort of shoot glances at Hurley and Charlie.

"Hey, man," Charlie says, giving me a lazy look. "No worries, right?"

I shrug. "Um, thanks," I say, wondering if he means it or if he's just kissing up to Jack. I look back at Jack. "I'll be back soon."

He leans forward like to kiss me, but I flinch. Something flits over his face, but he just says, "I understand. Come back tomorrow."

"If I can."

This time, he just touches my face lightly with his fingers. When he pulls away, it's like I'm being torn in half or something. I don't fall in love easily or quickly, especially after R.J. Before leaving for Australia, I'd been dating this really nice guy. We never had sex, though, and I just couldn't feel anything for him. I'd felt dead. And now, two weeks after meeting Jack, I can barely stand to leave him.

"Bye," I say, and I leave quickly, before I'm tempted to stay.

The sun's set when I get back. Everyone's at the bonfire, and I don't see Sawyer anywhere. For a moment, I hesitate at the edge of the jungle, wondering if I should risk joining the rest of the group or go to the shelter, avoiding everyone entirely.

Then I see Shannon giving herself a manicure while gossiping with some girls around our age. The fact that she gets to be with people who worship her while I have to be away from my... Jack causes anger to surge through me. Shaking, I storm over to the fire, managing to kick sand onto her when I reach them.

"I'm back," I snap at her. "Happy?"

"What crawled up your ass and died?" she asks, not looking up from her nails. It's unfucking believable. Her inhalers are lost, but the island miraculously saves her manicure kit. Further proof of the island's fucked-up priorities.

"Nothing. I'm tired."

Shannon smirks. "Someone wear you out?" she says suggestively. "How is everyone up there, anyway?"

"Fine," I grit out.

"And how's Jack?"

Kate's head snaps up at Jack's name. "Jack? Oh, hey Boone."

"Hey," I say awkwardly.

"Were you with Jack?"

Shannon snickers dirtily. I kick her.

"Yeah."

Fuck you, Shannon, I think savagely. "Um, yeah," I say to her, rubbing the back of my neck. "I was at the caves."

"Oh. How is he?"

I shrug. "Fine."

"Did he say anything?" She sounds uncertain. Tentative. "About what happened yesterday?"

"Um, no not really. But I wasn't feeling well, so we didn't... talk. Much."

Shannon laughs.

"I've got to go." I turn quickly and all but run to our shelter.

Our shelter is made up of some tarps we managed to salvage from the crash. She's got two blankets, I've got one, and we keep an airline pillow between the two of us when we sleep. It's small and cramped, and usually way too hot. Normally, I end up sleeping outside, but when she's not here, I go in. We don't have much stuff; her toiletries kit, a few changes of clothes, and a razor I found.

Even though we don't have a lot, it still takes me a minute to see the new items. And, when I do, it takes a second for it to sink in.

And then, I see the book. My book. Watership Down, the book that started all the problems.

Because Sawyer had the book. Sawyer...

With trembling hands, I pick the book up. The corners of the pages are bent, like he dog-eared them as he read. There are a few nicotine stains inside. The spine is broken, and I hate when that happens, I like to keep my books in perfect condition if possible and that man...

Not the point, Boone.

Tucked inside like a bookmark is a string of condoms. Ribbed, ultra-sensitive condoms. Three of them are green.

Underneath the book is a small bottle of lotion. It's the bottle I'd thought about stealing, just in case, and...

I drop the book and the condoms and fall onto my blankets. I'm sweating again, only now it's a cold sweat and I feel sick.

"I thought those might come in handy," I hear Sawyer say.

I force myself to sit up and turn. He's standing outside the shelter, looking pale and drained. He's still wearing the blue shirt that he wore yesterday while spying on Jack and me,but he also looks... weak.

I swallow hard. "I'm not going to let you fuck me, Sawyer."

A hard look spasms over his face. "I didn't say you had to use them with me," he says with a dangerous edge to his voice. "And I never said I wanted to fuck you." With that he turns on his heel and strides away.

I sit and watch him go. And I wonder if he's one of those men who play with words.