Smile for the Camera Pt. 3
Characters: Shannon, Sun; post-Shannon/Sayid
Rating: PG
Words: 1860
Summary: Shannon moves on with her life... sort of.
A/N: The next part of my AU exploring what might have happened had Shannon also been rescued at the end of season 4. I had intended to write a nice Shannon story. How did this end up turning into Angstfest 2009? Sigh.
Part 1 Part 2
Seoul is no LA, but it’s cool, and Sun’s apartment is gorgeous, although, not in a style that Shannon would have picked out. Where Shannon’s tastes run to sunny pastels and cutesy California designs, Sun’s place is decked out in browns and creams and straight lines. By the end of her second day, Shannon’s things are already strewn all over her room and much of the living room.
“Oh fuck. I’ll clean that up, I promise,” Shannon says after spilling half a bottle of Diet Coke on the rug.
Sun turns around in her desk chair to glance at her. “It doesn’t matter. The maid is coming tomorrow.”
It’s exactly the right answer, and Shannon heaves a contented sigh as she plops on the couch. “I love it here!” she squeals with a girlish little knee kick. Sun winks at her before going back to her reading, something financial, presumably to help her understand her father’s business. Sun’s been doing a lot of financial stuff recently, between preparing for her secret purchase of Paik Industries and also finding wealth management people to handle the investment of her Oceanic settlement.
Shannon watches Sun for a moment, the smile lingering on her face. It’s encouraging to remember sometimes that in a lot of ways, she and Sun started out very similarly: two pretty, privileged girls who weren’t brought up to deal with difficulties or loneliness. But ever since the crash, things have been hard, and when Shannon moved in here, they were both terribly alone. Sun’s been dealing with everything admirably, and if anything, the girl crush Shannon has long had on the older woman has increased since seeing where she’s from.
Taking Sun up on the offer she’d made when Shannon had called her that morning had been an easy decision. The only thing in LA for Shannon had been Sayid, and even halfway around the world isn’t quite far enough to run to escape the humiliation she feels. He calls eight times in those first few days, but Shannon refuses pick up. Two of the missed calls come with desperate (well, desperate for Sayid) voicemails asking her to please call him. Finally, he gives up and calls Sun. Shannon gets back from her daily Starbucks run one morning to find Sun’s door closed, and Sun’s hushed voice saying things in English that Shannon can’t hear, and she just knows.
“More than anything, he wants to know that you’re alright,” Sun dishes to Shannon, who, by the time the call is over, is watching Friends in the living room, unable to read the subtitles because she’s brooding too hard.
“Of course he does,” Shannon snits. That hurts worse than anything. He isn’t sorry that he dumped her, he isn’t feeling conflicted, he isn’t begging her to come back or regretting what he’s lost: he’s just checking up on her, in the same way that Jack or any other person who only cares about her in a general way would.
“I’m so sorry, Shannon,” Sun comforts her.
“It’s fine.” Sometimes there is nothing to be said. The great thing about Sun has always been that she usually seems to get it, so after a few minutes, she gets up and goes back to her desk.
Knowing that a change of subject is in order, Sun announces, “My detective has finally gotten me the first report on Widmore. He’s a slippery man, but we will get him one day for what he did to us. To Jin.”
Sayid may have slowly lost interest in figuring out what had happened to them as soon as Nadia had come on the scene, but by moving in with Sun, Shannon has been thrust right back into “research”. She knows that she ought to come to Sun’s comfort as Sun had come to hers, but she’s distracted by the fact that she suddenly gets a total brainwave on something that’s been bothering her for awhile.
“Hey, Sun?” she calls. “Do you think I could hire your detective agency to do a job for me? There’s someone I want to find.”
*****************************
Shannon prides herself on being able to handle anything. In less than two months, she’s made herself quite at home in Korea. Necessity has forced her to learn enough Korean to get around. She’s queen bee of the expat community, in with all of Sun’s society friends from high school even though Sun doesn’t really hang out with them anymore. Shannon’s even been invited to dinner with dignitaries. She’s the only American celebrity living in Seoul, and the fact that she’s living with one of Korea’s biggest celebrities only adds to her visibility and notoriety. She’s followed everywhere, much more visible here than she would have been in LA, where there are infinitely more famous people on every block.
She goes on dates---she’s real popular with the boys---but it never turns into anything, for a variety of reasons. For one, she’s too busy traveling. Rome, Hong Kong, Moscow, Dubai---Seoul is more of a base than a home she returns to after traipsing around the world looking for something… what, she doesn’t know. She doesn’t have that great of a time on any of her trips; either it’s too hot or too crowded or she doesn’t understand the language or the hotel is crappy or…
The other reason it never works out with any of the guys is that except for Sayid, sex and boyfriends have always been means to an end, and now there’s no end that she’s after. She has more than enough money to keep her in high style for the rest of her life. She has Sun for a BFF, society people to hang out with, and photographers for admirers. What need has she for a boyfriend?
One night, as she’s snuggled into the sheets of her huge bed, Shannon turns on CNN and catches the tail end of the daily death toll in Iraq.
“It never gets any better, does it?” Shannon quips as Sun walks by her door to wave goodnight. “Like, I thought the war had already ended before we crashed, you know?”
“Shannon, wait…” Sun begins to sputter as she realizes what Shannon is watching, but her English, fluent as it is, is not quick enough. The newscaster’s tone has already switched from the somber hues appropriate to war stories and now he’s ready to launch into something lighter.
“And speaking of Iraq, today has been a happy day for one of its most famous citizens. Sayid Jarrah and his childhood love Nadia have tied the knot in a private ceremony in Los Angeles.”
There’s an accompanying photo---the famous one---of him with his arms around Kate and Aaron just out of the raft that they showed up at Mimbatu in. Shannon’s nose twitches in rage. They show a picture of him and Kate, of all people?
The reporter continues. “Before reconnecting with his new bride, Mr. Jarrah was dating Shannon Rutherford, a fellow survivor of Oceanic 815 with whom he started a relationship during their time stranded on an uninhabited island in the South Pacific.” A photo of the first press conference flashed by, showing Sayid holding Shannon’s hand and looking at her lovingly.
“All of the other members of the Oceanic Seven wish their fellow castaway the greatest happiness. And now, in other news…”
Shannon doesn’t hear what follows. Words come out of the television speakers, but they’re nothing more than a drone. As the mattress dips down, Shannong feels, rather than sees, Sun sitting slowly down beside her on the bed.
“All of us? All of us sent congratulations?” Shannon lashes out at her roommate.
Sun sighs. “There was a phone call a little while ago from my assistant. She said some reporters had called asking for a statement. I answered for both of us. I thought it would be easier that way. I was going to tell you in the morning. I’m so sorry.”
Sun reaches out to touch Shannon’s hand, which is still clutching the remote like a vise, but Shannon snaps it out of reach. She turns off the television and rudely switches off the lamp even though Sun is still sitting there. Automatically, she snaps, “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s fine. They’re really happy. I’m happy. Thanks for making the call.”
“Shannon…” Sun begins softly.
Shannon’s voice is brittle and choked but she doesn’t break. “I’ll see you in the morning, ok? I’m really tired.”
Sun sighs and presses her hands into the bed on either side of her hips. With a deep grunt, she pushes herself slowly up. Breathing deeply, her hand floats to rest atop her increasingly enormous belly.
“Goodnight, Shannon,” she says sadly on her way out.
Shannon slinks miserably under the covers. The photos from the news dance through her mind in the darkness. It’s as if her brain is now a photo album, and she’s looking at herself from a third persona’s perspective. Sayid and Shannon as a united front against Cruella de Carlyle. Sayid and Shannon at the press conference in the picture shown on the news. Sayid and Shannon eating room service in bed and laughing so hard that they almost spill red wine on the cream-colored sheets. Sayid and Shannon taking serious advantage of the bunk beds during hatch duty. Sayid and Shannon huddled together in their shared tent sharing their most private secrets with one another.
She isn’t even sure what she’s so sad about. It’s been over for awhile. Nadia had long been a dream for him and now she’s a reality, and Shannon, who had been a reality during his three-month-long nightmare, has faded right out of his life. She is nothing more than a tether to a bad trip, in every sense of the word.
Whatever. It isn’t like he’s that great of a guy, anyway. He’s a torturer and a murderer and kind of a prick and his fingernails are ickily too long.
All the same, Shannon cries herself to sleep.
The following morning, Shannon borrows Sun’s ginormous D&G sunglasses to cover her puffy eyes. She smiles wide for the two paparazzo who flash at her and goes in for some retail therapy, but everything she tries on makes her look fat. After an exhausting day of aimless wandering, she goes home empty -handed, heads for the bathroom, and sticks her finger down her throat. It’s the first time she’s puked since before the crash, but even as she sinks to the floor, gripping the sides of the toilet bowl with white knuckles and expelling the contents of her lunch, she knows it will be her last. It doesn’t make her feel in control like it used to. It just makes her feel worse, like she’s regressing to the pathetic person she used to be.
By the time Sun gets home, Shannon has gotten rid of the smell and ordered an extravagant flower arrangement of pink roses and lilies for the living room. Sun gives her a hug and doesn’t force her to talk about anything.
The next day, Shannon picks up smoking.
On to Part 4...
Rating: PG
Words: 1860
Summary: Shannon moves on with her life... sort of.
A/N: The next part of my AU exploring what might have happened had Shannon also been rescued at the end of season 4. I had intended to write a nice Shannon story. How did this end up turning into Angstfest 2009? Sigh.
Part 1 Part 2
Seoul is no LA, but it’s cool, and Sun’s apartment is gorgeous, although, not in a style that Shannon would have picked out. Where Shannon’s tastes run to sunny pastels and cutesy California designs, Sun’s place is decked out in browns and creams and straight lines. By the end of her second day, Shannon’s things are already strewn all over her room and much of the living room.
“Oh fuck. I’ll clean that up, I promise,” Shannon says after spilling half a bottle of Diet Coke on the rug.
Sun turns around in her desk chair to glance at her. “It doesn’t matter. The maid is coming tomorrow.”
It’s exactly the right answer, and Shannon heaves a contented sigh as she plops on the couch. “I love it here!” she squeals with a girlish little knee kick. Sun winks at her before going back to her reading, something financial, presumably to help her understand her father’s business. Sun’s been doing a lot of financial stuff recently, between preparing for her secret purchase of Paik Industries and also finding wealth management people to handle the investment of her Oceanic settlement.
Shannon watches Sun for a moment, the smile lingering on her face. It’s encouraging to remember sometimes that in a lot of ways, she and Sun started out very similarly: two pretty, privileged girls who weren’t brought up to deal with difficulties or loneliness. But ever since the crash, things have been hard, and when Shannon moved in here, they were both terribly alone. Sun’s been dealing with everything admirably, and if anything, the girl crush Shannon has long had on the older woman has increased since seeing where she’s from.
Taking Sun up on the offer she’d made when Shannon had called her that morning had been an easy decision. The only thing in LA for Shannon had been Sayid, and even halfway around the world isn’t quite far enough to run to escape the humiliation she feels. He calls eight times in those first few days, but Shannon refuses pick up. Two of the missed calls come with desperate (well, desperate for Sayid) voicemails asking her to please call him. Finally, he gives up and calls Sun. Shannon gets back from her daily Starbucks run one morning to find Sun’s door closed, and Sun’s hushed voice saying things in English that Shannon can’t hear, and she just knows.
“More than anything, he wants to know that you’re alright,” Sun dishes to Shannon, who, by the time the call is over, is watching Friends in the living room, unable to read the subtitles because she’s brooding too hard.
“Of course he does,” Shannon snits. That hurts worse than anything. He isn’t sorry that he dumped her, he isn’t feeling conflicted, he isn’t begging her to come back or regretting what he’s lost: he’s just checking up on her, in the same way that Jack or any other person who only cares about her in a general way would.
“I’m so sorry, Shannon,” Sun comforts her.
“It’s fine.” Sometimes there is nothing to be said. The great thing about Sun has always been that she usually seems to get it, so after a few minutes, she gets up and goes back to her desk.
Knowing that a change of subject is in order, Sun announces, “My detective has finally gotten me the first report on Widmore. He’s a slippery man, but we will get him one day for what he did to us. To Jin.”
Sayid may have slowly lost interest in figuring out what had happened to them as soon as Nadia had come on the scene, but by moving in with Sun, Shannon has been thrust right back into “research”. She knows that she ought to come to Sun’s comfort as Sun had come to hers, but she’s distracted by the fact that she suddenly gets a total brainwave on something that’s been bothering her for awhile.
“Hey, Sun?” she calls. “Do you think I could hire your detective agency to do a job for me? There’s someone I want to find.”
*****************************
Shannon prides herself on being able to handle anything. In less than two months, she’s made herself quite at home in Korea. Necessity has forced her to learn enough Korean to get around. She’s queen bee of the expat community, in with all of Sun’s society friends from high school even though Sun doesn’t really hang out with them anymore. Shannon’s even been invited to dinner with dignitaries. She’s the only American celebrity living in Seoul, and the fact that she’s living with one of Korea’s biggest celebrities only adds to her visibility and notoriety. She’s followed everywhere, much more visible here than she would have been in LA, where there are infinitely more famous people on every block.
She goes on dates---she’s real popular with the boys---but it never turns into anything, for a variety of reasons. For one, she’s too busy traveling. Rome, Hong Kong, Moscow, Dubai---Seoul is more of a base than a home she returns to after traipsing around the world looking for something… what, she doesn’t know. She doesn’t have that great of a time on any of her trips; either it’s too hot or too crowded or she doesn’t understand the language or the hotel is crappy or…
The other reason it never works out with any of the guys is that except for Sayid, sex and boyfriends have always been means to an end, and now there’s no end that she’s after. She has more than enough money to keep her in high style for the rest of her life. She has Sun for a BFF, society people to hang out with, and photographers for admirers. What need has she for a boyfriend?
One night, as she’s snuggled into the sheets of her huge bed, Shannon turns on CNN and catches the tail end of the daily death toll in Iraq.
“It never gets any better, does it?” Shannon quips as Sun walks by her door to wave goodnight. “Like, I thought the war had already ended before we crashed, you know?”
“Shannon, wait…” Sun begins to sputter as she realizes what Shannon is watching, but her English, fluent as it is, is not quick enough. The newscaster’s tone has already switched from the somber hues appropriate to war stories and now he’s ready to launch into something lighter.
“And speaking of Iraq, today has been a happy day for one of its most famous citizens. Sayid Jarrah and his childhood love Nadia have tied the knot in a private ceremony in Los Angeles.”
There’s an accompanying photo---the famous one---of him with his arms around Kate and Aaron just out of the raft that they showed up at Mimbatu in. Shannon’s nose twitches in rage. They show a picture of him and Kate, of all people?
The reporter continues. “Before reconnecting with his new bride, Mr. Jarrah was dating Shannon Rutherford, a fellow survivor of Oceanic 815 with whom he started a relationship during their time stranded on an uninhabited island in the South Pacific.” A photo of the first press conference flashed by, showing Sayid holding Shannon’s hand and looking at her lovingly.
“All of the other members of the Oceanic Seven wish their fellow castaway the greatest happiness. And now, in other news…”
Shannon doesn’t hear what follows. Words come out of the television speakers, but they’re nothing more than a drone. As the mattress dips down, Shannong feels, rather than sees, Sun sitting slowly down beside her on the bed.
“All of us? All of us sent congratulations?” Shannon lashes out at her roommate.
Sun sighs. “There was a phone call a little while ago from my assistant. She said some reporters had called asking for a statement. I answered for both of us. I thought it would be easier that way. I was going to tell you in the morning. I’m so sorry.”
Sun reaches out to touch Shannon’s hand, which is still clutching the remote like a vise, but Shannon snaps it out of reach. She turns off the television and rudely switches off the lamp even though Sun is still sitting there. Automatically, she snaps, “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s fine. They’re really happy. I’m happy. Thanks for making the call.”
“Shannon…” Sun begins softly.
Shannon’s voice is brittle and choked but she doesn’t break. “I’ll see you in the morning, ok? I’m really tired.”
Sun sighs and presses her hands into the bed on either side of her hips. With a deep grunt, she pushes herself slowly up. Breathing deeply, her hand floats to rest atop her increasingly enormous belly.
“Goodnight, Shannon,” she says sadly on her way out.
Shannon slinks miserably under the covers. The photos from the news dance through her mind in the darkness. It’s as if her brain is now a photo album, and she’s looking at herself from a third persona’s perspective. Sayid and Shannon as a united front against Cruella de Carlyle. Sayid and Shannon at the press conference in the picture shown on the news. Sayid and Shannon eating room service in bed and laughing so hard that they almost spill red wine on the cream-colored sheets. Sayid and Shannon taking serious advantage of the bunk beds during hatch duty. Sayid and Shannon huddled together in their shared tent sharing their most private secrets with one another.
She isn’t even sure what she’s so sad about. It’s been over for awhile. Nadia had long been a dream for him and now she’s a reality, and Shannon, who had been a reality during his three-month-long nightmare, has faded right out of his life. She is nothing more than a tether to a bad trip, in every sense of the word.
Whatever. It isn’t like he’s that great of a guy, anyway. He’s a torturer and a murderer and kind of a prick and his fingernails are ickily too long.
All the same, Shannon cries herself to sleep.
The following morning, Shannon borrows Sun’s ginormous D&G sunglasses to cover her puffy eyes. She smiles wide for the two paparazzo who flash at her and goes in for some retail therapy, but everything she tries on makes her look fat. After an exhausting day of aimless wandering, she goes home empty -handed, heads for the bathroom, and sticks her finger down her throat. It’s the first time she’s puked since before the crash, but even as she sinks to the floor, gripping the sides of the toilet bowl with white knuckles and expelling the contents of her lunch, she knows it will be her last. It doesn’t make her feel in control like it used to. It just makes her feel worse, like she’s regressing to the pathetic person she used to be.
By the time Sun gets home, Shannon has gotten rid of the smell and ordered an extravagant flower arrangement of pink roses and lilies for the living room. Sun gives her a hug and doesn’t force her to talk about anything.
The next day, Shannon picks up smoking.
On to Part 4...