Chance

"Are you fucking Sawyer?"

I stop outside our shelter and look at her wearily. I barely slept last night, and my head still hurts. Despite the fact I spent the night in Jack's arms, I'm tired and tied up in knots. I wanted to stay at the caves, but I knew Shannon would start to freak out if I didn't come back, so here I am.

And of course the first thing she can think is to accuse me of sleeping with the one man on the island who truly terrifies me.

But, at the same time, she knows me too well.

"Morning, Shannon," I say instead of responding to her question. "It's nice to see you."

"Were you with him? Because that would be just like you, sleeping with that sleazy bastard."

The sleazy bastard that she was flirting with yesterday, I want to point out, but I don't. She's not jealous or anything, or trying to be mean. I mean, I understand that she's coming from a place of concern and not pure bitchiness. Even if she can't phrase anything except in Bitch.

"I'm going to lie down for a few minutes," I say, and I don't quite know why I'm avoiding the question. I just hate being ask, hate the fact that she thinks that the first person I'd get together with after my last relationship would be someone exactly like my ex. It's insulting. "I didn't sleep much last night, and the walk back tired me out."

"Where were you?" she demands. She coughs and then continues on with the damning evidence that brought on this line of questioning. "You weren't here last night. And I didn't see S-Sawyer anywhere." Shannon coughs again, and when she inhales, it sounds pained. "He's totally your type."

"No, he's not," I snap, turning to face her. "He's *not* my type, I'm *not* interested, and I'm *not* fucking him." A vein in my temple starts pounding and I press my thumb against it. "I don't know where he was last night. I try to ignore him. I don't *want* to go anywhere near him, to be perfectly honest, and last night, I wasn't with him. I was at the caves."

"The caves?" She coughs again and her inhale is really noisy.

I realize that she's having trouble breathing. Probably an asthma attack, and I know she's embarrassed about it, but she's not even trying to sneak off to take a hit of her inhaler. Instead, she's arguing with me over nothing.

Without missing a beat, I slip into protective brother mode. Since the crash, I've only been out of it for short snatches at a time. She's not dealing with the situation as well as she thinks she is, and I'm always alert for a crisis. Or an approaching crisis, like this. "Shannon, are you all right?" My voice is different now. Softer, less angry, and my mind is now focused on her.

She waves her hand in front of her face as if to dismiss me, and then inhales so painfully, it hurts *my* chest. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Where's your inhaler?" I ask.

Her chin trembles and she looks at me guiltily. "I'm out of medication," she tells me miserably. "It ran out two days ago." She coughs again. "Boone, I'm going to die."

I melt at her pathetic tone even as guilt twists my gut. I hate that I always turn to mush when she gets sick, but I can't help it. She's my sister and it's my job to take care of her.

I lean forward and kiss her forehead like I used to do when she was little. "You're not going to die," I tell her. "We'll figure this out, okay? Just stay in here and relax for a while. Get some sleep."

"I can't *breathe*, jerk," she snaps, and immediately, her breathing gets worse. "I won't be able to sleep."

Trying to hide the face that I'm shaking, I push her down gently and say, "Then just kick back for a bit. Close your eyes, listen to the ocean. Concentrate on slow breaths. I'll be back." I try to smile at her, and then I turn and leave our shelter and head towards Sawyer's.

I hadn't known she was almost out of medication. It hadn't occurred to me to ask. I mean, I'd noticed that she'd been using it a lot more than usual the past few days, but it made sense. Every night we sit by that fire, and there's a lot of dust around, and it's hot. Plus, the stress of the crash and trying to survive is wearing on her. So it's only natural that she's been having more trouble breathing.

But she should have told me that it was getting low. I could have... I don't know. I don’t know what I could have done. I mean, I guess I could have told Jack or Kate or... someone. Shannon would have killed me, but they're more equipped to deal with this situation. Me? I've been trying to avoid it.

I realized yesterday that Sawyer probably had my luggage. After the crash, I was too dazed and messed up to look for it, and I figured it would either show up or be lost of good. And then, I saw Sawyer reading my book. I didn't think to say anything to him about the luggage because I didn’t want him to pay any attention to me. I knew that if he had my book, then he probably had Shannon's inhalers, but I thought this one would last another week or so. By that time, I could tell Jack and he could get them for me.

I don't want to be alone with Sawyer. It's not that I don’t trust myself because, honestly, I'm not all that attracted to him. Hell, I wasn't even all that attracted to R.J. the last couple years; I just stayed with him because he was familiar. So it's not that because Sawyer reminds me of my ex, I'm pining after him or dying to get into his pants. In fact, I think that because he reminds me of R.J., I'm less inclined to think of him lustfully and more inclined to be afraid.

So, it's not me I don’t trust. It's him. The man wears violence like a tee shirt, and I swear he'd just hit me for fun if he got a chance. Which is why I promised myself that I would never get into a situation where I'm alone with Sawyer.

Except now, I don’t know what to do. I can't wait and draw him out; Shannon needs her medication right now. And if he's not around other people, I'll just have to take the chance.

My heart is pounding in my throat as I approach his shelter. He's not there and he's not anywhere around. For a moment, I stand stupidly inside, chewing on my lower lip. I highly doubt he'd hide the medication in here; he seems to be taking all the really valuable stuff and hiding it in the jungle. But, at the same time, I honestly don't know if he'd consider albuterol valuable. Especially if he doesn't realize they belong to Shannon.

I release my lip and make a decision. No one is paying any attention to me, no one will say anything if they see me in here. And, if they do, I'll make something up.

I start digging through his things. I find soap, aftershave, deodorant, candy, peanuts, three razors, five packs of cigarettes, gum, wood, two water bottles, five changes of clothes, socks, underwear, four children's novels, a diaphragm, eight condoms, two large bottles of lotion, mouthwash, three toothbrushes, a few tubes of toothpaste, and a travel-sized bottle of lotion. No inhalers.

I debate about taking a condom and the travel lotion. It's the wrong time to be thinking about this, but, at the same time, I want to be prepared. I know nothing about Jack's sexual history and I want to be safe. Shannon has a whole box and about a thousand bottles of lotion that she boosted from the hotel, but I can't ask her. She's my sister.

In the end, I leave them. She's already letting me use a toothbrush (not hers; an extra one) and toothpaste, so it's not like I'm not going into her bag every day. She probably will never notice.

When I'm doing going through everything, I put it back as best I can. Then, palms slick with sweat, I leave the shelter and head further down the beach. I'm going to have to ask Sawyer for the inhalers, and I'm afraid I'll do it the wrong way.

The best way to approach Sawyer would be... politely. Calmly. Just, explain what's going on and why I think he might have the inhalers and... ask. Don't accuse. That'd make him angry and more prone to lash out.

I think I'm going to be sick.

There's a bend in the path. It leads me to a small, secluded cove, probably the one that Sawyer was talking about yesterday. It really is nice, private and hidden. The waves are calm, the water looks deep, and you can't see the camp from here.

I see Sawyer's clothes on the beach. His underwear sits on top of the pile. Which means, he's naked. Fantastic.

Sawyer's head appears from the water. He tosses his hair back and it flies in a wet waves over his head. There's a smile on his face, and he looks calm and relaxed. That's good. Maybe he'll listen.

I start heading down to the shore when, out of nowhere, Kate appears with a bunch of plantains thrown over her shoulder. When Sawyer sees her, he smiles predatory grin he's been using on me.

Yes! If Kate can keep him distracted, I can go through his stuff in the jungle and maybe get the inhalers.

Without waiting to see what they're talking about, I take off into the jungle. I'm convinced his belongings have to be nearby. How else would he have found the cove? It's not like he's spent a lot of time exploring the island. It seems like most of the time, he's just sitting out on the beach, reading or checking women out. And he can't have hidden the stuff so far that it's inaccessible. He...

"Ah!" I exclaim, falling to my face. My palms skid out in front of me, wood digging into my skin.

"Nice," I muttered, figuring I've tripped over a root or something. But, when I look, I see that there's a small square of fabric covered with foliage. When I pull it up, I find a long trench in the ground, filled with stuff.

Frantically, I start digging through it. This is his stash, and it's like I've hit the mother load. Soap, clothes, alcohol, toiletries, books, mirrors, cigarettes, hair bands, brushes, more condoms, nail clippers, make-up, bug spray, sun block... It's like a yard sale or something. And I know the inhalers have to be here somewhere.

As I dig, a sense of impending danger fills me. I stop and exhale hard, trying to figure out what's wrong.

It's the island. She's angry. No, frightened. No... pissed or something. I'm not sure, I can't read it. Closing my eyes, I tilt my head back and try to read her.

Pain fills my head.

"What?" I whisper, squeezing my eyes tighter.

Danger. Danger. Run, run, run.

Fuck.

I leap to my feet, but it's too late. A twig snaps behind me; when I turn, I see Sawyer.

His eyes narrowed at me and this, like, cloud of darkness sort of engulfs him. The danger-signals grow to a frantic pace, and I can't think anymore.

"What are you doing in my stuff, son?" Sawyer asks, voice low and dangerous.

I swallow, unable to answer. There are too many conflicting signals inside me.

He steps closer. "You better start talkin'."

Shit.

I step back and say, "I need Shannon's inhalers." That sounded like a demand. That's not right. I need to be submissive. Appeal to his... softer side or whatever. Don't... demand.

"Shannon's inhalers," he repeats. His eyes flick to the wreckage that is his stolen goods, and then back to me. "And I obviously have them because..."

"You're... hoarding. Everything." I gesture to the trench. "You went through the luggage and you took it all. You have my book."

His eyes flash with something that is probably amusement.

Alarmed, I step back. There's something behind me, and I trip, falling to the ground.

"It's a free economy, boy." He steps over the suitcase I'd tripped on and pulls me roughly to my feet. "Y'all had your chance to go through and take what you needed, too. If you knew you'd need those inhalers, why didn't you join me inside looking for your bag?" Without letting go of my shirt, he walks me backwards until I'm backed against a tree. His leg inserts itself between mine and his hand comes to rest on my throat. "It might have been fun."

My heart is pounding wildly in my throat, and I'm sure he can feel it. "It was nice of you to go through and take everyone's stuff out of there, but the bag is mine and the inhalers are hers," I say. "We're not dead."

"But they're in my possession," he reminds me. "And last time I checked, possession was nine-tenths of the law."

"Yeah, back home. Not here." Oh, that was a stupid thing to say.

His hand tightens on my throat. "Right, boy. Here, we play things a little bit differently." Sawyer leans in close, and the cologne he's wearing combined with the stench of the seawater stings my nose and brings tears to my eyes. "Here, whatever I find belongs to me. All this is mine, and a little slip such as yourself sure ain't the one who's going to take it away from me." His hand tightens further, and now I'm struggling to breathe. "You breaking in here is robbery, and that makes you a thief."

"I was going. To ask," I gasp, clawing at his hand.

"Well, you didn't, did you?" His teeth graze over my earlobe. "So we're at crossroads of sorts. Two choices. On the one hand, I can give you what's coming to you for being the filthy little thief you are. And, believe me, boy, someone needs to teach you a lesson."

Oh God. "And the other choice?"

His smile is dirty and hits me in the stomach, twisting it. "We can play nice, and you can give me something in exchange for what you want."

I suddenly realize that I can't feel the island anymore. She's gone, silent, out of my body and mind. For the first time since the crash, I'm completely alone.

Except for Sawyer, of course. And I have no idea what to do.

"Give you something?" I finally croak out.

"Exactly. We'll barter, boy. You give me something I want," and his leg presses into my crotch, just in case I wasn't sure what he wanted, "and then maybe I'll give you something you want." Sawyer moves his hand away from my neck and brushes his thumb over my lips.

I pull my head as far away as I can. "What could you possibly want from me?" Please, I'm so sorry, I’m thinking. I feel so empty and lost, and if the island was back, then maybe she could send a message or feeling to Jack and I wouldn't have to go through this.

"You think you've got me all figured out?" His bites underneath my jaw. "You're supposed to be the smart one. What do you think I want?" He licks the spot he just bit and then bites it again.

I close my eyes against the pain, feeling a bruise form. His teeth skin into the skin, and I can feel blood rise to the surface. "You want Kate," I protest. "You're straight."

He laughs and presses harder into me. "Don't be fooled by appearances, boy. There's always more going on than there appears." He runs his knuckles over my cheek and adds, "Besides. I like the idea that I'll be there first. And, Jack is too much of a Boy Scout. What you need a real man."

My stomach turns. God, he's going to fucking rape me, and I'm just letting him do it. I'm just... taking it, what the fuck is wrong with me?

Rage roars through me and, with a sudden rush of strength, I push him off me. "Stay the hell away from me," I spit at him, the words bitter in my mouth. It feels like it wasn't so long ago I'd said the exact same words to someone else.

Sawyer's eyes darken and his face twists. "Fine," he bites out. "You don't want to play nice, that's fine by me. But it's time someone taught you a lesson, boy."

I stiffen, seeing his hand go up. His fists clenches and he moves towards me and then...

Without even trying, and without a conscious decision, my mind checks out and I'm simply...

Gone.

* * *

"Shit, shit, *shit*!" I hear someone swear. "God dammit!"

I feel as if I'm floating. I have no idea what's going on, but I can see the sky and the trees above me. In a distant sort of sense, I can tell I'm in pain and extremely uncomfortable, but it's not touching me right now. I'm too far gone.

The trees clear and I'm abruptly dumped on the beach. Sawyer's face hovers over mine, and he shakes me. "Snap the fuck out of it, kid."

I don't respond.

He shakes me again, and a look of panic crosses his face. "What's wrong with you? Wake up!"

I drift lower, back towards my body. I don't know if I have the energy to respond, and then, suddenly, I hear a shriek. Sawyer's head snaps up, and then he vanishes.

"Boone?" Shannon drops to the sand next to me, panic on her face. "Boone, are you all right?"

I don't answer. I'm still not completely back, and I'm so, *so* tired. I think that I can sleep now; all I have to do is roll over and close my eyes and...

Shannon slaps me. "Snap out of it!"

The sharp sting of her skin on mine breaks my haze. I'm sorry it does, because when it's gone, all I can feel is the pain. My face aches and head hurts. My back is screaming and all my muscles ache.

"What happened?" she demands, breathing unevenly.

My memory is very slow to return. Images of the past few hours drift over my eyes. Waking up next to Jack, who was propped over me and brushing hair from my forehead. The walk back to Beach Camp. Finding Shannon having an asthma attack. Going through Sawyer's things. Seeing him swimming. Finding his stash and his proposition to me and...

Shit, the bastard beat me up. I don't remember it, but I do remember him saying he was going to teach me a lesson.

Shannon is shaking hard, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. I realize that I have to pull myself together, *now*, or she's going to flip out.

"Nothing happened. I just fell," I tell her, and struggle to my feet. My head is still disturbingly silent as I sort of keel over from the pain; the island still isn't talking to me.

I feel lonely.

"Fell, right. Sawyer did this to you, didn't he?" Shannon threads her arm under mine and starts helping me limp into the jungle.

I wipe blood from my nose and sort of shrug. "I couldn't find your inhalers. Jack will take care of it."

She snorts and picks up the pace, practically dragging me through the trees. When she wants, she's amazingly strong.

I don't know how long it takes us to get to Jack. By the time we reach the caves, I'm tired and lost and the pain has engulfed my entire body. Blood is in my mouth and drips into eyes. I've got some kind of head wound, but I don't know where it is. It feels like it's on my hairline, which would account for all the blood, and my nose is hurt, but not broken. And that's the thought I have to cling to: it doesn't feel like anything is broken, thank God. There's no ER out here on the island, and Jack isn't a miracle worker.

Oh, God, he's going to ask questions.

"We need some help over here!" Shannon shouts the minute she sets foot in the campsite.

I stumble, suddenly afraid. I don’t want anyone to see me, but before I can tell Shannon this (not that she'd listen to me), Jack and Sayid are there. They each take a side and drag me to Jack's infirmary. All the scratches and bruises on my back scream to life and I can't help saying, "Owe," a few times, wincing.

"What happened?" Jack demands, hand cupping the back of my head.

I try not to look at him, but I can't help it. My throat hurts and my skin aches as I meet his eyes. There's blood in my mouth that curdles bitterly as I admit, "Sawyer."

Jack and Sayid exchange looks.

"I'll take care of the girl," Sayid says after a moment. He moves and goes to Shannon, who looks freaked.

"That bastard," Jack says under his breath as he starts his examination. His hands are gentle as he feels my skull, searching. He frowns, feeling through my hair and down my neck. His dark eyes search my face, look at my busted lip and my dripping nose.

"Ouch!" I exclaim when he touches just underneath my shoulder.

Jack doesn't say anything, just moves around me and pulls my shirt up. I try not to stiffen as he gently traces abrasions and scratches along my back.

"What are these? Did he beat you with a branch or something?"

I honestly don't remember, but I don't want to admit that. Getting beaten by Sawyer was bad enough; having to tell Jack that I can't remember the actual incident was even worse.

But, at the same time, I'm pretty sure he didn't hit me with anything but his hands. I very vaguely recall Sawyer dragging me through the jungle and back to the beach. "No," I finally say. "I, um, fell."

He shoots me a look as he comes around me again. It's like, he wants to believe me, but isn't quite sure he can. And even though I'm trying to look innocent, I can tell that he's just not buying it.

"You've got a lot of scars on your back. Do you fall a lot?" he asks, grabbing a rag.

I don't answer as he starts cleaning the bleeding cut in my hairline. Pain blossoms from the spot, and I inhale sharply. "Owe, Jack, it's fine." I grab his arm and try not to let him see how much pain I'm in. "It's just a scrape."

"Lot's of scrapes today," he says with a hard expression on his face. "I'm running out of peroxide."

I sit forward, grunting as a muscle twinges in my back. "He just jumped me, man," I whisper. My mind is in turmoil, and I know my story isn't straight. I think I'm in shock, but it's not from Sawyer. It's from the island leaving so abruptly.

"Why?" Jack asks immediately.

I look at him and wince at the expression on his face. Jack looks like someone kicked his puppy, kicked him, and then kicked the puppy again for good measure. And I'm thinking that maybe I'm the puppy in this scenario.

For a second, I think he knows, and I feel incredibly guilty. It doesn't matter that I did nothing to welcome Sawyer's advances; it still feels like my fault.

I swallow and tell him about Shannon's asthma. I tell him how when I found her this morning, her breathing was rough and I was afraid she'd have an attack. I told him how I figured Sawyer had my bag, but I'd left it before, because I figured we'd have time, and now we didn't and I went about it all wrong.

"I'll go get," he says when I'm done. He finishes cleaning the blood from my face and then sits back. "But first, Boone, I have to ask." Jack swallows and his eyes dart away from me. He takes a deep breath and looks as if he's stealing himself. "You've got teeth marks on your neck." He looks back at me and touches it with light fingers. "I don’t remember biting you that hard, and I don't think they were there when you left this morning."

Fuck.

"Did he do anything to you?"

"I’m sorry, Jack, I..."

"Boone," he interrupts, putting his hand on my thigh. "I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm accusing Sawyer. Did he do anything to you?"

My body sags and, even though I still want to keep up pretenses so people will still listen to him, I lean against him wearily. "He propositioned me. I said no. But that's not why he did this. He said I needed to be taught a lesson about stealing." I lean further into him, and his arms come around me gently. His hand is at the nape of my neck, massaging. "Maybe he was right."

"What?"

I tear myself away from him. Wearily rubbing my forehead, I say, "I mean, I did steal. The gun. The water. And I was going through his stuff. I *meant* to ask him, but I... I didn't want to be alone with him."

Jack was looking at me as if I'd grown another head. "So that gives him license to just beat you up?"

"Who else is going to punish me?"

He's silent a moment, thinking. His eyes are on Shannon, but he puts his hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. "I think you do that enough yourself, Boone. You didn't steal the water; Charlie and Hurley left it on the beach and you wanted to protect it. Did you go about it the right way? No. Did you mean to do the right thing? I know you did. You aren't a thief. Your actions weren't malicious, you were just... a little misguided. You didn't deserve this." Jack leans forward and kisses me gently. "Stay here with Shannon. Eat something, both of you. And rest. Try to make sure Shannon stays calm. I'll track down the inhalers."

I grab his arm and hold when he rises. "Be careful."

Jack smiles and bends over to kiss me again. "I will." We kiss one more time, and I'm really wondering if anyone is paying attention, since we're not exactly hidden, but no one says anything. When we draw apart, Jack caresses my cheek and then leaves.

* * *
Shannon had a really bad asthma attack about an hour after the sun sets. I don't know if it was triggered by the fire and got worse because of her anxiety or what, but it was bad.

And then Sawyer comes. And even though Shannon's basically the center of attention with her painful breathing, he's looking at me.

I swallow and try to ignore him.

"You okay?" Jack asks. He puts his hand on my back, eyes on Shannon.

"I'm fine."

But my voice shakes a little, and Shannon still is having problems breathing, so Jack gets up and has words with Sawyer. The words end in violence, and Sawyer has a busted lip to match my own. And I honestly don't know what to make of this or how I should feel.

Jack storms off, leaving Sawyer on the ground, bleeding. Sawyer's eyes find mine and his eyebrow quirks up. He touches his lip and then licks the blood off.

Feeling queasy, I turn back to Shannon. "Maybe we should move away from the fire for awhile," I say. My voice sounds distant even to my ears.

She nods and we go to the far side of the camp, away from everyone else. Earlier, someone gave us some blankets and stuff and cleared a space out for us. I'm thinking that we're probably going to stay in the caves, at least for awhile. I can't imagine going back to the beach, not if Sawyer's there. I can't live in the same space as him.

Shannon lays down right away, but I know I'm not going to sleep for a long time. I have my back against the wall and I'm watching Sawyer as he slowly gets water and some meat. His eyes keep darting over to me, but he's not as predatory as I thought he would be. Or angry. In fact, there's a part of me that keeps thinking that he looks almost... concerned.

After Sawyer leaves, and Shannon falls asleep, I get up and go look for Jack. He'd never returned after punching Sawyer, and I'm worried. I'm afraid that he's angry with me, angry that I was responsible for him losing it on Sawyer.

I'm afraid that he's realized I'm too much trouble and he's better off without me.

It takes a really long time for me to find him. The island still isn't talking to me, and I wander around in the dark for who knows how long before I finally stumble across him.

Jack's in a clearing about a half a mile away from camp. He's sitting with his back against a tree, head tilted back. His eyes are closed, mouth open, and he looks like he's sleeping.

I freeze when I see him, uncertain if I should disturb him. It doesn't matter, though. He heard me or something, because he smiles. "Boone?"

"Yeah."

His eyes open and he opens his arms. "Come here."

I go to him hesitantly, because even though he seems welcoming, I'm just not sure if I'm the person he wants to see right now. But he pulls me into his arms and kisses the top of my head. "Sorry I left you," he says. "Sawyer didn't try anything, did he?"

"No," I say. Tentatively, I rest my head on Jack's shoulder and close my eyes. "No, he just got some water and then left. He didn't talk to me at all."

"I'm glad." His knuckles caress my neck. "It's horrible to say this, but it felt good punching that bastard. It's bad enough that he's withholding Shannon's medication, but what he did to you..."

"It's no big deal," I say.

The stroking stops momentarily. "Boone, the man's an asshole," he says, resuming his caress. "And he had no right to lay a finger on you."

I open my eyes and stare into the night. It's so dark here, especially away from the fire. I never knew the night could hold so many shadows before. It's not like I ever went camping all that often, and even when I did, I never went anywhere without a flashlight or lantern. Here? There's really nothing but fire, and I hadn't even thought to bring a torch with me when I left to look for Jack. Luckily, my eyes are adapting to what faint light there is seeping through the trees.

"I'll make him give the inhalers back, Boone. I promise."

"I believe you," because if Jack had sworn he was going to walk over the ocean to the nearest pharmacy and get a refill, I'd believe him.

Jack kisses my hair. "How are you holding up?"

"I’m fine. The pain is fading."

"That's not what I meant."

I sigh. "I know."

His thumb runs down my neck, and suddenly, I have to tell him. I *have* to, because he needs to understand and it'd be easier if he just hated me and we could get this over with all ready.

"I took a few hits of her inhaler," I say in a flat voice. The day before it ran out. I didn't know she was almost out."

"Do you have asthma?" he asks, immediately concerned.

"No."

Silence. Then, "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Do you do it often?"

I shake my head. "Almost never. But after I almost drowned, I just felt so dead. I needed to feel like I was living again, and my heart rate kicks up so much after I take the albuterol...." I trail off.

Jack sighs and rests his forehead against my head. "I don’t like that you do that, Boone, but it's not your fault."

"I used it up, man."

"That doesn't change anything. The only thing that would be different is that she would have run out today instead of the other day." His lips press into the nape of my neck. "Why did you start?"

But I don't want to explain. Now I don't want him to know. Anger I can deal with. Disgust I can handle. Pity? I don't want, especially not from him.

So, I sit up and climb onto his lap. "Promise that Shannon's going to be okay," I say, kissing Jack.

He moans softly and holds me down. His tongue strokes along mine and his hand disappears under my shirt. "She'll be fine, Boone," he whispers into my skin. He starts to roll me onto the ground, but I make a warning noise; my back is too scratched up for that to be comfortable.

Instead, he falls back and pulls me on top of him. "Don’t worry about her."

I shake my head and kiss down his neck. He smells good; spicy or something. Not dirty and not pungent. I can smell the faint scent of soap, but it's underneath a musky, spicy scent that has to be his own. I lick his skin to taste him, my hands sliding up his sides.

"I have to..." Jack says, and then he very, very gently rolls me onto my back. He keeps his body propped above mine, and it doesn't hurt; there's no weight pressing against me. His mouth finds mine again, and he does this twist with his tongue that sends shivers down my spine.

I arch under him, eyes falling shut. The world spins in a dizzying spiral of darkness, and I feel like I'm drowning, but in a good way. He kisses me again, and I feel something inside me that's been hurting for a really long time break off and float away. I kiss him and then....

"Boone," Jack says, shaking me. His lips are on mine, and then he shakes me again. "Wake up."

I blinked a few times and open my eyes. Jack his propped over me, smiling. The world around us is filled with light, and the air has that early morning crispness to it.

"What happened?" I croak.

"It's morning. You fell asleep last night while we were making out."

Oh my God. "I'm sorry." Mortified, I sit up and scrub my face with my hands. "I am so sorry."

"Don’t worry about it," Jack says. "I'm just thrilled you finally slept." He kisses me again, and then rises. "Let's head back to camp. Shannon's probably worried about you." He takes my hand and helps me up. "Have you told her about us?"

I shrug and follow him. "No. I don’t know what to say."

"You could tell her that I'm gay and we've been fooling around."

"She won't believe me. She thinks I'm interested in Sawyer."

He stops and looks at me. "Are you?"

"No. It's just." I bite my lip, then say, "He reminds her a lot of my last boyfriend. That's all."

Jack looks at me speculatively for a moment, and then pulls me to him. "I could kiss you in front of her, if you want. Maybe that will convince her."

I laugh and put my arms around him. "I'll tell her. Soon." I kiss him lightly. "I just don't want to do too much too fast, you know? Everything is overwhelming as it is."

He kisses me and squeezes my ass. "I understand."

We stand there for a few minutes, kissing each other with small, easy kisses. His tongue brushes mine every so often, and my stomach clenches every time it does.

As we kiss, I realize two things. One, I've slept, and I feel a lot better. Two, the island is still gone so, even though I feel rested and calm, I'm still lonely.

I feel a little like I'm being punished; I just don’t know how to make things better.

I pull away. "We should head back."

"Yeah." Jack tugs me, kisses me one more time, and then starts going. And then, suddenly, he stops and says, "Look, I wanted to ask about something you said yesterday."

I feel cold suddenly, and I know I'm not going to like whatever he has to ask. "Yeah?"

"When did you start taking hits of the albuterol?"

"I don't know," I lie. "Four, five years ago?" Actually, it's six.

"Why did you start?"

Okay, so he's not going to drop this. My mind scrambles around for a lie. No one in my entire life has ever found out about me using Shannon's medication. Well, that's not true. R.J. knew. He just didn't give a fuck. "Um, college was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I needed something to help me through it."

Jack raises an eyebrow. "So you turned to asthma medication? Boone, there are a lot of other drugs available to you in college."

I lick my lips. "My boyfriend. Didn't like me to. You know. Hang out with people who did drugs." My voice sounds weak and thready; I sound like I'm lying.

And Jack hears it. "He didn't like you to hang out with people who did drugs, or he didn't like you to hang out with other people?"

I don’t know what to say, so I just stand there, looking at him. And that's how we're standing when Michael appears through the bushes. "Hey, kid," he says, and if he notices we unclasp hands hastily, he doesn't even blink. "Your sister is having a major attack."

That breaks the spell. Without even looking at Jack again, I take off and run back towards camp. My sister needs me.

* * *

In the end, Sawyer didn't have the medication. I feel like such a jerk. I was sure he had to have it. He had my book. Why would my stupid book survive and not the rest of my luggage? The book was *in* my suitcase. Where is the medicine?

Not with Sawyer. Jack and Sayid tortured him, Kate kissed him, and he still says he doesn't have it. And I believe him. I don't want to, especially because a small part of me thought about giving in to Sawyer, just so I could get the medicine from him. When I was watching Shannon struggle to breath, I couldn't help thinking that if I'd just played along with Sawyer, all of this could have been avoided.

Of course, that was before I knew that Sayid was torturing him. Now I’m just freaked out again. Because of me, Sawyer got bamboo shoved under his nails. He'll be coming after me, I know it.

When Shannon's blissed out on the eucalypts concoction and having some sort of moment with Sun, I leave. Jack's off doing some kind of administrative business. I don't know if he's avoiding me, or if he really needs to do what he's doing (it looks like he's getting Claire settled in and going over the food stores with Locke), but I figure it's a good time for me to get away. I need to clear my head.

I walk for an hour, but not very far. I don't want to get too far from camp and then get lost. The island still isn't talking to me, and the only reason I could ever find my way through the jungle was because she unerringly guided me through. Now? I'm flying blind.

After circling the camp about five times, I choose a path and head off in the direction where Jack and I had been the night before. About a half a mile beyond that clearing, I find a waterfall emptying into pool of water. I can't tell if it's real, if it's always been here, or if it's just something the island made for me to find. All I know is the water is cool and wonderful against my skin.

I undress swiftly and climb into the pool. We have a place for drinking water, and I just can't bring myself to care that I might be contaminating another source. I'm sticky with blood and sweat, there are scratches and bruises on my back, I smell bad, and my hair feels grimy and disgusting. I need this.

Since I didn't know there was a pool, I didn't come with soap or anything, but I do my best to clean up. One of these days, Jack is going to want to have sex. He stays relatively clean, but I haven't been doing such a hot job. Maybe if Shannon and I move from the beach to the caves, where there's more access to soap and clean water and less sand, I won't feel as disgusting all the time.

And, when we run out of soap, maybe Sun can show us how to make some out of bark or something. Something natural, like she did with the asthma treatment.

Not that that's a permanent fix, though. After Shannon calmed down, Jack pulled me aside and warned me that, even though the eucalypts can help, it's not the same as medication and she might have a worse attack in the future.

He didn't say it, but I know he was thinking that, hopefully, by then we'll be rescued. But he didn't say it to me because he knows that, unlike him, I have no hope that we're ever getting off the island.

"Hey," I hear from behind me.

I turn, my cheeks heating unintentionally. "Hey. How did you find me?" I ask Jack.

His goofy, lopsided grin is on his face, and he's unlacing his shoes. "I saw you pass by the camp awhile ago, and then head off in this direction. Thought I'd follow you." Jack tugs his shirt off and throws it on the ground next to my clothes.

My heart starts pounding. "Glad you did."

"Are you?" He hesitates, hands on his fly, head tilted. "I don't have to join you, you know."

"What do you mean? Why not?"

"It's just, I'm getting the sense that we need to take things slowly. And that there's some things about you that maybe I should know."

Fuck. I knew that this was all too good to be true.

I dunk into the water to my shoulders and watch it swirl around me. "I am what you see, man."

"There more than what you see to everyone, Boone. It's occurred to me over the past few days that I really don't know you all that well."

"I don’t know you all that well either." Of course, the difference is, I'd ask, just in case. Sometimes, it's just better not to know things.

He takes off his pants but leaves his boxers on. "I'm an only child," Jack tells me. "My father was a prick and I constantly told me I wasn't good enough." He walks into the water, and I watch it churn around his calves, then thighs, then wet the thin fabric of boxers.

I lick my lips. "Um, good enough?" I can't help admiring his stomach muscles as they bunch, and his boxers are clinging to his thighs and... Oh, *wow*. I might just be the world's luckiest man.

"Both my parents were like that. Emotionally distant and often... unkind when they spoke to me." His smile was bitter. "I always felt that maybe if I'd been smarter, stronger, faster, tougher, whatever, they would have actually loved me." Jack stops in front of me, water up to the middle of his torso and gazes into my eyes. "And then, there's a part of me that tries to convince the rest that it wasn't my fault. They were the ones who didn't know what to do with a kid. Didn't know how to... love one."


I don't know what to say, so I just say, "I'm sorry."

He shrugs. "Thanks. And, um, my dad's dead. That's why I was in Australia. He ran away, drank himself into a stupor, and then died in an alleyway. I was supposed to bring his body back home, but they wouldn't put it on the plane. All they put was an empty casket." Jack laughs bitterly. "I didn't find out until I found it in the caves."

I don't say anything to this. We've moved beyond words, so I step into him and put my arms around him.

He leans against me, face buried in my neck. We stand there for a long time like that, me holding him, stroking his back. I get the feeling that he hasn't thought a lot about his dad since the crash, and, even if he has, he hasn't gotten any comfort.

He probably hasn't asked for any comfort. Jack doesn't strike me as the kind of person who's open with his feelings. At least not negative feelings. And, I've noticed, that he's reserved when we're around everyone else. He's kind of stoic and very much the leader. It's only with me that he lets himself be goofy and affectionate.

I place a kiss on his head and hold him. It's funny; we barely know each other, and if this was the Real World, I wouldn’t be here right now. This is, like, intimacy that comes after you date someone for awhile. But, because this isn't the Real World, we're able to move all over the continuum of relationships.

After a few minutes, Jack kisses my neck and lifts his head. "Sorry about that," he says. His eyes are red. He laughs self-consciously and kisses me. "I was trying to get you to open up, and I ended up talking about me."

"No problem. It sounds like you needed to get that off your chest." I tighten my arms around him, heart still pounding. My skin is tingling and I can feel heat pooling in my groin.

"What about you?" he asks, voice husky. His hand slides down my back and comes to rest just above my ass. "Any demons you want to share?"

I wrap my arms around me and shake my head. "No," I whisper.

He sighs and takes me by the shoulders. Resting his forehead against mine, he says, "Boone, you can tell me. Anything. I won't judge you." His lips press into mine. "I’m worried. What you said the other day about deserving to be beaten up. That's not right, and it's not the kind of thinking that comes out of no where."

Frustration wells in me. I don't want to do this, don't want to talk about it. "What do you want me to say, Jack?"

"I want you to tell me who hurt you."

I laugh a short, exhale of a laugh. "What does it matter? He's gone."

"Is he?"

I swallow. "I'm gone." My voice is trembling. "I can't feel the island anymore, Jack. She's left me."

Jack pulls away and looks at me, frowning. "When did that happen?"

"The other day. Ever since Sawyer cornered me, I've been completely... alone."

"You're not alone," Jack says right away. He takes my chin and makes me look at him. "You're not alone. Maybe it's a temporary reprieve. Maybe she's telling you that it's finally time for you to sleep."

"I slept last night."

Jack's smile turns sultry and he steps closer to me. "Then maybe she's giving you some privacy to have some fun."

I laugh, shivering under his hot gaze. "Yeah, maybe you're right." Hesitating only a moment, I kiss him.

His mouth opens and tongue slides into my mouth. His aggressive and takes over the kiss right away. But... he's not greedy. He doesn't do it by force, and he's letting me kiss him back and explore his mouth and...

"Oh *God*," I exclaim when his hand wraps around my cock.

He laughs and kisses my upper lip. "Like that?"

I can't answer. His hand is tugging at me with slow, sure strokes. I swear the water around us starts to get warmer as my body heats. I'm so hot and I'm trembling, gasping for air. Jack's mouth is wet and messy on mine, tongue dipping in and out in time with his hand. I'm useless right now. All I can do is knead his arms and buck into his hand. I'm barely kissing back as the pressure builds underneath my skin. Sweat beads on my forehead and my blood is light and fizzy, dancing under my skin. Small, desperate sounds are being wrung from my throat, and it shouldn't be this easy to bring me this close to the edge, but, damn, it's been so long since any hand but my own has been on my cock, and I've been so stressed and...

Jack cups my balls, fingers pressing into my premium. "Come on, Boone," he whispers, licking my neck. "Come for me." He keeps one hand on my cock, stroking from root to tip; with the other, he reaches behind me. His fingers slid into my crack, and then he's teasing the sensitive skin around my opening, stroking fire with calloused skin.

"Jack!" I shout as I explode. Flames burst behind my eyes and I cling to him,. My knees are weak, body limp as I pour into his hand.

Jack cups his palm around my cock head. His skin is rough, even with the water, and it scrapes the overly-sensitive head. The prickly sensation sends shockwaves through me, and I swear I come again, my entire body seizing afresh as another burst of pleasure goes through me.

Warm, happy laughter sounds in my ear. Jack licks my earlobe and bites it gently. "God, you're beautiful," he whispers.

I slid my arms around him and turn my head to kiss his neck. As I do, I catch a blur of blue in the trees. Blond hair flies in the breeze, and I hear a groan.

My stomach seizes, and, suddenly, I feel sick.

"What is it?" Jack asks.

"Sawyer," I choke out.

Jack turns quickly and shouts, "Sawyer!"

Twigs crack and bushes move. The blond and blue give way to green and the foliage crunches away from us.

"He's gone," Jack says. He turns back to me.

I shiver. "He said that he wanted to get there first. Or wanted to be first. Before you," I tell him haltingly.

Jack reaches for me, but checks himself. I expect him to say something about Sawyer, or about me letting Sawyer bite me, or even ask what I did to get Sawyer so interested in me.

But, all he says is, "For me, it's not about being first. It's not a competition and you are not a prize. You're just the man I happen to want to be with."

The words calm me a bit. But I can't think clearly enough to answer him, so I ask, "Do you want me to take care of you? I mean, it's not fair."

He gives me the lopsided smile. "No. Not right now. I'm not exactly in the mood right now. Sawyer has a tendency to do that." He takes my hand and starts walking backwards. "We could get dressed, though. Start a fire. Get some sleep."

"You have a strange obsession with sleep," I say. When he pulls me to a spot where the water would dip below my hips, I stop. "I can't," I tell him.

"He's gone, Boone. It's okay."

I shake my head, and swallow bile.

"Okay. I'll get your clothes." He climbs out of the water, boxers clinging to his ass. He picks my clothes up and turns back to me. "Here."

He's so... good. Not innocent, but he's not... I can tell he's not. Not like them. Not like Sawyer and R.J. and, God, he just jerked me off and isn't making me do anything in return. Even though he's got to know I'd do it, whatever it is, without complaints. He's got to know...

I shake harder, and the shaking makes the words start tumbling out of my mouth. "He could have raped me," I say. "I mean, I don’t think he did, but I couldn’t have stopped him. When they hit me, I just... check out. Go somewhere else. They can do anything to me, and I wouldn't know. I have no idea how long Sawyer hit me, or what he did. I wasn't there anymore."

Jack exhaled slowly. "Have you been raped before? "

"No."

He sags in relief and rubs his neck. "And Sawyer didn't rape you."

"No."

"Good. Um, you said they. When *they* hit you. Who's they?"

"Just... Sawyer. And..." I stop talking.

"Your boyfriend?" he guesses.

I nod.

"He beat you."

"Yeah."

"And you would check out as a coping mechanism."

"I guess."

He hesitates. "I know you just said you've never been raped, but I have to ask you, Boone. When you checked out while your boyfriend was hitting you, did he eve rape you?"

"He was my boyfriend."

He frowns and opens his mouth, then shuts it again. "Boone, just because you're with someone, doesn't mean they can't rape you."

I swallow. "He was my boyfriend."

"Right." He makes a sort of movement with his hands, and I think he means he's letting it go. "All right. We'll talk about that later, but it's fine. Tell me about him."

I don’t want to do this, but I just can't stop. "He was my only boyfriend. Serious boyfriend. High school doesn't count."

"How long were you together?"

"Seven years."

A look of shock spasms. "You were with one guy for seven years, and this guy abused and... Abused you."

"Yeah."

"And that's why you took the albuterol?"

I nod. "When I check out like that, I feel so... disconnected from everything. Dead inside. The inhalers were the easiest thing to get my hands on without raising questions. I'm the responsible one, Jack. The dependable one. I couldn’t let everyone down."

"And it was only the inhaler?"

"Sometimes I took those over the counter, herbal uppers. The ones that aren’t as healthy as they said they were?"

"I know what you mean."

"But mostly, I'd just take hits from the inhaler. I told them I was picking up her prescription, or I'd take it from the house. Like I said, she was always losing her inhalers. A lot of the time, it was because I was stealing them."

"Do your parents know?"

"About what?"

"Any of it. The abuse. Your method of coping, the inhalers."

"No."

"Does Shannon know?"

I nod. "Not about the inhalers. But she knows about me getting beaten." I lick my lips and say, "I'm... severely broken, Jack," I say, and my chest aches fiercely. "I just... I don't think I'd be good for you. We shouldn't do this anymore."

Jack drops my boxers and comes back into the water. "Boone, if you don't want to be with me because it's a really bad time for a relationship, or because you're not attracted to me, or something that makes sense, then that's fine. I'll back off and we can just be friends. But if the only reason you can come up with is that you were abused by your last boyfriend and don't think you're good enough for me, then I'm not going to let you go. That's not a reason, Boone. That's just... fear and uncertainty."


"Jack," I whisper helplessly. I feel so worthless, so stupid.

"Boone, I'd be really good for you, all right? I'm not a violent man, the past couple days notwithstanding. And, even though the situation is weird, and we're all stressed and dealing with survival issues, I don't want to wait. I mean, I don’t want to wait to get to know you for when things calm down because, well, you calm me down. You remind me what it feels like to be human and be... and equal instead of a leader. You're the only one who doesn't treat me like I have Saint Jack tattooed on my forehead."

I close my eyes. "I'm going to fuck up, Jack. I can't help how I react sometimes."

"Then let me be the one who shows you that not every relationship is about pain and power. Let me teach you that it's okay to react, because whatever you're expecting isn't going to happen."

"Jack..."

"Please," he asks beseechingly. And then, he takes my hand.

I gasp as the island surges through me again. She thrums through my blood, strong and sure. Images and feelings and life pulses through me, and my head falls back as she fills me. She's not angry or upset or demanding she's just...

Alive. She's alive and back and with me and she's not angry with me. Not upset, not... anything. But she's back and there and suddenly, I feel real again. Alive.

I'm not dead. I haven't been erased from existence. I'm still here.

"Are you okay?" Jack asks. He touches my cheek.

I open my eyes and I swear it looks like Jack is glowing. "Yeah," I tell him, smiling. "Yeah. I think I'm good."

"What is it?"

I laugh and step into him. "The island. I can feel her again." Still laughing, I kiss him.

He laughs too and holds me against him. When we break apart, he whispers, "And you'll give me a chance?"

Butterflies flutter in my stomach, but if ever I needed a sign, this surely was it. Jack was who I was supposed to be with. When he touches me, everything is right. The island chose him for the leader, and she chose me to be by his side. Who am I to fight fate?

"Yeah, Jack. I'll give you a chance."

Fin