Fic, Lost: Our Mutual Friends (Sayid, Desmond), PG13 for philosophy_20
And this is done, too. I think I've never written so much dialogue in my life. Which makes me hope that it's IC dialogue.
Title: Our Mutual Friends
Characters: Sayid, Desmond (may have some subtle slashy tones but still isn't proper slash)
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: If they were mine, they would have showed this instead of showing the morning after.
Word count: too many.
Spoilers: if you haven's seen the first half of Ji Yeon, you're spoiled.
Summary: For philosophy_20 #7, both sides. What happened after Frank left and before Desmond woke up the morning after?
A/N: So, there's much talking really about a variety of subjects from Kelvin to Charlie. And since I kind of tortured poor Desmond in my last one, I guess he'll get some good and sane consoling session, hoping I've kept the thing believable. For elliotsmelliot because I say so and because our man needs to be taken care of ;)
On their way back from the communications room, Frank and that Keamy guy escorting them on the deck below, Desmond falls behind their pace pretty soon. Probably when they reach the middle of the corridor, though he had started to help himself walking while leaning against the wall and he had been swaying slightly since they left the room in the first place.
As soon as Sayid notices that there’s a bit too much space between them, he motions for Frank and the other to stop and goes back to where Desmond is leaning.
He takes a look at him. Desmond looks just too tired for his own good, but pretty fine otherwise. Sayid can’t really say he doesn’t understand it.
“Is there some problem?”, he asks. “Are you getting...”
“Nay. That’s not it. But I reckon this whole ordeal left me a bit drained, yeah?”, Desmond answers not looking at him.
Sayid can see it, alright. Thinking about it, both of them haven’t eaten anything since they left the island and while he still hasn’t quite resolved that time delay between when they left and when they arrived, he’s positive it’s been a while. After what’s just happened, a bit drained he’s the minimum. Hell, Sayid feels drained himself and he wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if Desmond fainted just now.
“Do you need any help?”
“Well, brother, I guess that isn’t somethin’ I’m too eager to say but aye. I think I do.”
Sayid smiles slightly and just takes Desmond’s left arm, bringing it over his shoulder. From the way Desmond shifts his weight, Sayid can safely assume that he was pretty close to fainting, alright. He guesses that speaking with the captain will have to wait until tomorrow and at this point he thinks that a night of rest won’t do either of them harm.
When they reach the sickbay again, there’s a blonde woman hovering outside the door with a book in her hand, though she doesn’t appear to be reading it and her fingers shake. Sayid takes a mental note to ask Frank something about her later; Frank calls her Regina when he greets her and then she steps aside letting them all in. Frank makes it kind of clear that they aren’t supposed to get out and then leaves.
As soon as his arm leaves Desmond’s shoulders, Desmond heads for the lower bed of the double bunk against the wall, closing his eyes and breathing out in relief; Sayid stands near the door and takes a better look at the sickbay. Minkowski’s bed is still in the place they left it; there are a couple of bottles of water on the table in front of him and when he opens a couple of drawers he finds only medicines, gauze and medical supplies.
He opens a bottle and takes a drink, then turns to Desmond.
“How about some water?”
“Aye, I’d like that.”
Desmond stands up and reaches him at the desk, taking the bottle and taking a few good drinks. He hands it back to Sayid after claiming that he already feels much better, then goes back to sitting on the bunk and kicks off his shoes, leaning back against the wall again. Sayid goes to the door and opens it a notch, but as soon as Regina raises her head and looks at him, he closes it again. She doesn’t look friendly at all and Sayid doesn’t like this business one bit, but he guesses it wouldn’t be much use to make his point to her. He can only hope Frank shows up himself.
He does, a couple of minutes later, with a brown bag under his arm.
“I thought I’d check on you guys, bring you some food. How are you feeling by the way?”, he asks Desmond.
“Much better, thanks.”
Sayid at this point doesn’t want to lose his occasion.
“Why are we being held captive? We don’t have nothing to do with Minkowski’s death.”, he says, assuming it’s the reason they’re getting guarded.
“This has nothing to do with Minkowski. Captain wasn’t very happy that you two decided to bust out of the sickbay into the radio..”
“We didn’t bust out. The door was left open.”, Sayid says taken by surprise. He had assumed it was Frank’s doing and when it isn’t confirmed, he can’t help thinking that the last thing he needs right now is another question to answer.
Frank drops the content of the bag on Minkowski’s bed and Sayid takes a can in his hand, turning it over, while Desmond does the same.
“Lima beans?”
“Sorry, we had a little problem in the kitchen.”
Sayid doesn’t want to think about what kitchen problem means, but he guesses that for now it’s better to just follow the advice, stay put for one night and then see to talk to the captain the day after. He turns to Desmond, who is standing near him, holding his can of beans.
“Well, guess it’s dinner time, yeah?”
“I guess so. Table or bed?”
“Seeing that there’s only one chair, bed looks more comfortable.”
“Point taken.”
Sayid sees that there were two spoons among the cans; he throws one at Desmond, who is already back to sitting on the bed, then takes one from himself in the same hand in which he holds the can opener and sits on the other side of the bunk. He motions for Desmond to pass him his can, opens it and hands it back, then he opens his own and eats a spoonful of beans. They’re cold and basically tasteless; he turns to his left to see that Desmond’s expression of disgust probably mirrors his own, but he eats nonetheless and Sayid does too.
“How are you feeling?”, he asks after a minute. He has this idea that maybe if they make some small talk he’ll be able to avoid thinking about how much he hates lima beans. If Desmond is up to it, since he has never struck Sayid as the talkative kind of person, but who knows. It’s not like Sayid is an extremely talkative person himself, truth to be told.
Desmond shrugs and answers while dipping the spoon in the can.
“’Tis a question, indeed. If I told you I can’t really answer?”
“I think it would be reasonable.”
“Reasonable, brother? Looks pretty ungrateful to me, to say so.”
“Should you say you have never felt better in your whole life?”
“I reckon I should.”
“I can see that you don’t. But I think there’s more to it than ungratefulness.”
“You really think so?”
“I have this impression.”
Sayid is at half of the can and well, he’s resolving to finish it if only because he knows he’s going to need energies tomorrow.
“You really hate those, brother?”
“I hate food in cans.”
“Can’t really blame you. Thinkin’ I swore I’d never eat beans again after...”
Desmond stops talking, eating another small portion of beans, but now Sayid feels curious.
“After what?”
“After bein’ in the army.”
“You were?”
“Got kicked out ‘fore I could really do a bloody thing.”
“May I ask why?”
Desmond turns to him for a second, but he doesn’t seem upset by the question.
“Only if I can ask you somethin’ else in return.”
Sayid shrugs. It’s not like he has had problems sharing any information with anyone until now, he doesn’t see why he should start now. Even if he has to admit that talking with someone who doesn’t know who he is and what he has done was starting to make him feel quite at ease.
“Sure.”
“Not following orders. A year and a half of military prison after that. And all we ate, were the damn beans.”
Sayid nods, thankful that he’s gone past three quarters of his can.
“So what’s your question?”
“How did you end here?”
“Excuse me?”, Sayid says not getting the question at first.
“On the island. I jus’ wanted to know how’s that you ended on that plane. Only if you don’t mind, ‘course.”
“Not at all. I was searching for a woman.”
Desmond laughs and maybe Sayid should feel offended, but he really doesn’t because it isn’t the mocking kind of laughter. He just waits for Desmond to explain himself.
“What you’d call interesting. I wrecked there tryin’ to get mine back.”
“Penny.”
“Aye. What’s your’s name?”
“Nadia. But I doubt she’d have any reason for wanting to see me.”, Sayid answers throwing the can in a nearby bin. Desmond is still at half of it.
“Why’s that? You don’t strike me as the kind a woman wouldn’t like to see.”
Because you don’t know, Sayid thinks.
“I think you would not want to know.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, brother.”
“Well, the one I made was... less excusable than most.”, he says, his voice dropping down a notch.
“I was the one to leave Penny.”, Desmond mutters in return while taking another mouthful of beans, looking relieved that he’s finishing his ration, too.
“I tortured her.”
Sayid doesn’t have an idea of why he said it, probably ruining not only the strangely too easy mood that had established between them and presumably every possible interaction he was going to have with Desmond. Sure, on the island the new start policy hadn’t earned him much disfavor for his past actions, but, especially with people he didn’t really interact much with, he could always sense some fear behind the politeness. Especially after Sawyer and the inhalers.
Desmond turns to him and Sayid doesn’t find in his eyes anything close to the resentment he expected. Desmond seems just merely interested.
“You were in the Republican Guard, brother?”
“Well, you are the first person I met that didn’t need me to say it first.”, he answers, sincerely surprised. Desmond hands him the empty can and Sayid throws it in the bin, leaning back against the wall after he’s done. Desmond draws a leg to his chest, draping a hand around his ankle, then turns back to him again.
“Wasn’t too hard to figure it out. You’ve got good training. And I know a good deal ‘bout the Gulf War, even if it was information from the other side, I’m afraid.”
Sayid doesn’t miss the wince of disgust that crosses Desmond’s face for a second, but he’s fairly sure it isn’t directed at him since he’s not looking in Sayid’s direction but in some random one, seemingly the window.
“Really?”
“You live three years stuck in a hole with someone who’s been there... you’re bound to get some information yourself, yeah?”
Sayid nods. He knows that Desmond had been in that hatch three years and Jack had said something about someone else being there until more or less the time of the crash, but his information doesn’t go past it and now he finds himself genuinely interested. The only thing stopping him from asking is that Desmond doesn’t seem much comfortable with the subject, but on the other side, he was the one to bring it up. Sayid figures that asking won’t hurt, even if they should probably go to sleep since it’s half past ten, or so the clock on the wall says, and they’re not going to have an easy day tomorrow.
“Would you tell me about it?”
Desmond turns to him now, hair partially hiding his eyes and falling down on his face, that knee still drawn to his chest.
“It’s a long and pathetic story.”
”You could try to make it short and I will stand the pathetic. I have some pathetic stories to tell myself.”
At that point the corners of Desmond’s lips turn upwards and he lets out a laugh which is kind of genuine and Sayid thinks it’s the most relaxed he has been until now.
“Well, why not. Let’s have it. So, three years ago, I’m in my boat race ‘round the world.”
“The one to get Penny back?”, Sayid asks, even if the connection between a girl and a boat race really doesn’t occur to him. He guesses there is more behind it, but for now he lets it go.
“Aye, that one. Anyway, I crash here, this guy comes out of the jungle runnin’ and he brings me down there. He says there’s a sickness outside and that it’s impossible to go out, but first thing, he pushes the button. What’s it for, I say. Saving the world, he answers. Then for a while..”
“Which would be three years?”
“Which would be exactly three years, brother, we save the world together and we talk ‘bout the Gulf War. Then Kelvin... died, and I was there for forty days until your friend John... hey, brother, is there anythin’ wrong?”
Sayid can guess that his face is showing exactly how sick he has started to feel when Desmond mentioned his hatch partner’s name.
“How... how did you say he was called? And do you have his full name?”
“Aye, for my sodding luck. Kelvin Joe Inman.”, Desmond answers with a bitterness in his tone that doesn’t escape Sayid, not at all.
“Did you say he’s dead?”
“Aye. But you don’t really wanna know this one, brother.”
“I told you this same sentence before and you wouldn’t take it.”
“I can tell you only if you tell me why you want to know first.”
Sayid takes a breath and realizes that it’s just fair, even if thinking about it makes him feel as sick as he’s sure he looks.
“He captured me during the war when I was just a simple soldier. He taught me how... how...”
Sayid finds himself unable to finish the sentence, a lump forming in his throats and one of his hands threatening to start shaking, so he just turns to Desmond again and shrugs, hoping to get the point straight.
Seems like he does, judging at the way Desmond’s eyes change when he realizes it.
“He taught you how to torture people?”
Sayid gives him the most bare of the nods and Desmond brings his free hand to his head.
“Now, if only we weren’t talkin’ about him, that’d be somethin’ to laugh on.”
“Why?”
Desmond lowers his head and his eyes fall to the floor. He’s silent for a few seconds, then asks Sayid if he can turn the light off. Sayid stands up and does it, going back to the bed, the pale moonlight now being the only source of illumination of the room. When he sits down, Desmond starts to talk and Sayid listens to every word he says, realizing that it was the first time Desmond told that story to someone, a few facts about life with Kelvin in the hatch first, a dry and quick recap of what happened the day of the crash secondly; then he adds a few, short sentences telling Sayid how he caused for the hatch to implode. Then Desmond adds a bitter the end and leans back against the wall, letting out a breath and still holding that knee to his chest.
“It wasn’t your fault.”, is the first and only thing Sayid thinks he can say.
“I didn’t mean it.”, it’s the answer. “Though if it makes you feel better to know he’s dead, I guess you’ve got every right, brother.”
“He... he just.. it seems so stupid to say.”
“You wanna say he ruined your life, you can. The sodding bastard surely didn’t make me a bloody favor, either.”
Sayid nods, even if he knows that Desmond couldn’t possibly see it even if he was looking at him; he tries to think about it.
He hadn’t been in the hatch himself much; just when he fixed that computer, then when he and Jack had that look at the hatch’s doorway and for a quick shower once in a while. He was never on button duty and he felt somewhat oppressed; there wasn’t really a comparison to hold between the hatch and outside.
He tries to imagine it, being shut down there without breathing fresh air for three years, in company of him, and he finds himself mostly disgusted. Then he tries to imagine being there, alone, for more than a month, pushing that button every 108 minutes, without a break and, Sayid guesses, even without three consecutive hours of proper sleeping.
He can only feel oppressed, dreading the bare idea of it, not thinking about the whole failsafe key matter; when he looks at Desmond again, who has been silent until now, Sayid can’t help feeling something close to admiration.
“How did you do it?”, he asks earnestly.
In return, he gets what he thinks is a shrug.
“I just did it. And I’m sodding glad I haven’t got to do it anymore. Oh, regarding that..”
“Yes?”
“You can choose the bed you want for.. later, I mean. Up or down, doesn’t make any difference.”
Sayid remembers about the hatch’s double bunk and he gets an idea that Desmond isn’t really looking forward to revive the bunk experience again. But he can safely assure neither of them wants to sleep on Minkowski’s bed. He doesn’t expect the next question.
“Brother, that’s... I know it’s way off but.. you mind if I ask you another thing?”
“No, sure.”
“How.. did you... no, I mean... were you and Charlie close?”
The question hits Sayid like a blow to the guts. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it. He has. But not in situations in which he could allow himself to think too much. Now it does hit, and it does hurt; he doesn’t know if he wants to answer it, but his eyes are adjusted to the light now and a certain, quiet uneasiness showing up in every trait of Desmond’s face is enough to convince him that the man is desperate to talk about it. He forces the lump in his throat to go away, takes a breath and answers, trying not to get lost in memories he was sure were going to come to him as soon as he started thinking about Charlie.
“Quite. He was... he was the first person I actually introduced myself to on the first night of the crash. I gave him a hand in... a couple of occasions, let’s say. When Ben... Henry Gale.. whoever he is, was in the hatch, he had been the only one not to think that I was crazy for believing he was indeed one of them. Then I never really was at the camp during those last weeks and...”
“He called for you when I asked for someone we could trust.”
“Yes, that. I just...”
Sayid smiles sadly.
“Probably I didn’t really process everything already.”
“Guess you’d hate my guts if you did, brother.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You would.”
“Listen, Hurley’s told me something about it while we were going back to the beach. I know about your flashes and a few other things.”
“Guess that’d lead you to believe it’s totally my fault, yeah?”
“I never do judgments if I don’t know both sides of the story. I have already made that mistake more times than necessary.”
“You would hear my side, so?”
“Most certainly.”
There’s a minute of silence before Desmond speaks again, his voice low, the head always turned in the window’s direction.
“The first flash... ‘twas the morning after I joined your camp. It was one where he got electrocuted by lightening. The second, you were there, too.”
“When Claire was drowning?”
“Aye. That one exactly. I just... I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I barely spoke to him, I didn’t know a sodding thing about him except that he kept on... dying in front of my eyes and... you know, on top of everythin’, guess I just wasn’t in the best conditions of my life, yeah? Anyway, I... wasn’t plannin’ on telling him.. ‘Twould have been better if he didn’t know.”
Desmond turns his head slightly against him and Sayid nods, not saying anything for now. It makes sense; he probably would have opted for the same choice.
“Then... he and Hurley got suspicious and well... they managed to get me drunk.”
“You told him?”
“Aye. He just... they kept on pressuring, it already was... y’know, hard on its own without other worries... I just told him. I shouldn’t have.”
“If they got you drunk, you’re not exactly the first to blame. You do realize it?”
“Aye, but that isn’t the point, brother. Anyway, it happened again when you were on that mission and I had to tell Claire, too. Which I’d have rather avoided. The followin’ time... it was when Naomi landed.”
Sayid nods; he knows at least much more behind that particular fact, but of course nothing about Charlie risking his life there, too.
“And that was when... I really am not proud of myself, nay. But... in my vision, wasn’t Naomi with the parachute. She was Penny. And he, Charlie I mean, died before we got to her.”
“You mean you...”
“I didn’t tell him that he was supposed to die. I wasn’t... I couldn’t... I just... I couldn’t let ‘im die even if that meant for the future to change again.”
Sayid nods again and Desmond takes another breath.
“Anyway. The last one, ‘twas the one of the Looking Glass. But that flash... was wrong.”
“Wrong?”
“There were two girls down there. Others? You called them like that, yeah? I just... saw him go there, flip the switch and then it flooded. But no girls. Anyway... on that boat, I realized that maybe I was wrong that time and that I just shouldn’t have told him he died. Or that maybe... it was for me to do. I don’t... I don’t know brother, but I offered to go in his place. Before, he had given me a... some list that I was meant to give Claire. Don’t ask me why, I haven’t read it. Wasn’t my place to.”
“You didn’t give it?”
“Nay. Not yet. Anyway, he... he knocked me down and went for himself.”
For a second, Sayid thinks he can see the ghost of a smile on Desmond’s lips; but then it disappears and he goes on.
“When I woke up.. there was that Bakunin shootin’ on me from the beach. I went down and I found him tied to a chair while those two gals were there arguin’. I just hid somewhere and waited. I though maybe I could have done somethin’. That wasn’t the flash I got anyway. Cuttin’ it short, Bakunin got into the station, too, and he killed the girls. Said it was ‘cause of orders.”
Ben, Sayid thinks before giving again his full attention.
“I was hidin’ in a locker with arms in or somethin’ like that... anyway, there were some guns next to me. I got out and shot him before he could kill Charlie, too. He started questioning one of the girls, to have some sorta code I think... if I understood, if he flipped the switch inserting the code first the station wasn’t gonna flood.”
“So you both lived, if he did?”
“Aye. She gave it and while I took a look around he went and flipped the switch. When I went back to the room I saw... two things. First, that Bakunin’s body was gone. Second... Charlie was in front of a monitor and... Penny was on it. She told me she talked with him, before... during the call, yeah? I started runnin’ towards the room and... Bakunin... I dunno how he could’ve been alive but.. he threw a grenade in the room and Charlie shut the door just when I arrived.”
Desmond then stops and Sayid can hear how labored his breathing has become.
“I tried... I tried to break it down but... that glass wouldn’t even crack. Then he... he found some pen and he wrote that this wasn’t Penny’s boat on his hand. He pressed it to the glass and then he just.. he...”
Maybe it’s the chocked sob that escapes Desmond’s lips, or maybe the tension that Sayid can feel radiating from his body; he covers Desmond’s wrist with his hand, hoping it’s enough.
It is and he keeps on, but doesn’t end the sentence.
“I just... you know how you feel when you think you’ve failed everythin’ in your life? I... I had saved his life so many times that I couldn’t... I wish I had time to do anything but I had to get back to tell his message and that was when you met me at the beach.”
Sayid nods and gives a light squeeze on Desmond’s wrist. He remembers that moment too well, indeed.
“I overheard Hurley tellin’ you about... the flashes and whatever he told you before we lost him while we were headin’ back and well... I just... I had meant to speak to him alone for a moment but then we met the others. I... I was gonna tell Claire myself and I’d have probably given her the list then but...”
“Hurley went.”
“Aye. He went and I just... I felt so out of place, like... like I didn’t have a right to interfere. Or somethin’ like that. They were there crying, I just couldn’t get there, I... guess I got scared or somethin’, or that I thought the last thing Claire would have wanted would be, well, speakin’ with me. I thought I’d just approach her after. Then... then there was the split. I went with Jack mainly ‘cause I wanted to see for myself who actually sent the boat and why did they know who I was. But... guess it’s also because when you’re a coward, you can’t really change.”
“Why? You don’t...”
“I am. I don’t think I’d have had the guts to go with them, brother. Not in a million years.”
Sayid shakes his head, trying to process all the information. It isn’t an easy situation to deal with, he can see it from a mile away, but there’s one thing he’s sure of, after hearing it.
“You did what you could.”
“What?”
Sayid doesn’t move his hand and takes a breath.
“If I did understand right, you started having the flashes just after you joined the camp. Right?”
“Aye.”
“Well, I think you really are too hard on yourself. I mean, you had just... thought you were going to sacrifice your life to save us all and if I remember well from when me, Jack and Sawyer found you in the boat, you exactly weren’t at your best conditions.”
“Nay. Sorry for the treatment I gave you that time, by the way.”
“That was nothing. Anyway, if that wasn’t the worst idea I ever had in my life, it comes close. Apart from that, after everything you are telling me that happened... I don’t really think you are to blame for it.”
“If I just didn’t...”
“You can’t go by ifs, or you’re never going to get past it.”
Desmond nods without too much conviction, bringing his other hand to his eyes.
“I just... I didn’t give myself time to think about it much. I don’t think I can face it. I just watched him drown and there wasn’t a thing I could’ve done. And I didn’t even give Claire...”
His voice trails away and Sayid guesses it’s not something he’s going to get over soon, if he gets over it. But at least that was a start, he thinks.
He hadn’t lied, before, anyway. If anything, Desmond’s story confirmed him that it really wasn’t his fault; Sayid can see only the absurdity of the fatalism surrounding Charlie’s death and he just feels deeply sorry for both of them. Of course for Charlie, who had been a good friend to him in every stance, but also for Desmond because how was he supposed to deal with something like that?
Then it occurs to him.
“Desmond?”
“Aye?”
“Does anyone know how did the hatch implode?”
“What do you mean?”
“Has anyone asked?”
“I think... John knows for sure.”
“No one asked you?”
“Brother, I really am not familiar with a good number of your people there.”
Sayid nods and doesn’t know what to make of the fact that no one in camp has realized that Desmond had saved all of their lives and probably didn’t even get a thanks in return, but thing is, he has learned more than a couple of things today and he can’t help finding it surprising, how they both came to this point. Especially considering he wouldn’t have thought, a week ago, that he could ever have such a conversation with Desmond of everyone.
Suddenly he feels quite tired.
“Do you think we should sleep on it?”
Well, he surely didn’t expect Desmond letting out the most bitter laugh of the whole evening.
“Aye, we probably should. Or at least, I hope you manage to.”
“Only me?”
“Well... I think I forgot to tell you the most pathetic thing in all this story. You up for it?”
“I am up for it.”
Sayid doesn’t expect anything good.
It isn’t.
“The only time I slept a whole night straight since the hatch imploded... was when they got me drunk.”
“What?”, Sayid asks, fearing what he has understood.
“I always... I always wake up every 108 minutes. More or less.”
That’s the sentence that hits Sayid the hardest.
It could be because of Desmond’s tone of voice, bitter, dry and resigned; it could be the way his lips turn into a sad smile bathed in the pale moonlight; maybe it’s because after everything that has been said, that sentence looks just like the last straw.
“I think I can’t say one thing that is not... lame, I guess.”
“Believe me brother, I know. I got no hope for now, but I’m not nearly as noisy as I was the first nights at camp. I think I’ll just wake up whichever bunk I end in anyway.”
“It wll not be a problem. I mean, you can’t do something about it.”, Sayid answers earnestly.
“Brother, I’m startin’ to think that if a quarter of the people I knew were a quarter nice to me as you have been this evening, my life would have been a bloody lot easier.”
“Was that a compliment?”
“Aye, or at least was meant to.”
Sayid has to smile at it.
He guesses that if there is one thing Desmond could use right now is not ending up exactly like in the hatch. And even if the only way he can think of is really nothing looking remotely close to reasonable right now, Sayid figures it’s worth trying.
“Not even one night except that one?”
“Nay. Not a single sodding one. ‘Twas already happening before Kelvin died but... guess it just won’t take me a month to get rid of it.”
“Right. And, do you know one thing?”
“Aye?”
“I do not think we should actually discuss beds.”
“Sure we shouldn’t. Told you to choose, brother, I don’t care.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“What did you mean then?”
“I think you just could use some... unobtrusive company.”
“Do you?”, Desmond answers. And at least he isn’t upset, or maybe he didn’t realize what Sayid has just suggested.
“Do you?”
“So you would be unobtrusive?”
“I have been told so.”
“Well, you don’t strike as obtrusive, brother.”
“So what do you say?”
“I’d be askin’ you if you’d really volunteer, yeah?”
“Why not?”
“Why should you?”
Sayid’s hand leaves Desmond’s wrist and goes to his shoulder.
“I just have this idea that you may need some.”
“Let’s say you’re right. What would you suggest then?”
Sayid doesn’t waste time in trying to phrase something he isn’t so sure of in the first place.
He just wraps an arm around Desmond’s shoulder and the other one around his waist, then turns so that they both lay on the bed, Desmond’s back turned against the door and Sayid’s against the wall.
He wonders if this isn’t going too far but after a second he gets the impression that it isn’t Desmond’s opinion. Sayid can feel him relaxing a bit against him; the situation is strangely comfortable; it really should be more awkward than anything else, but it isn’t. Desmond breathes steadily, his lips an inch from Sayid’s neck, hot air prickling against his skin, his head settled against Sayid’s chin.
“Is this alright?”, he asks.
Aye it’s all he gets for an answer. Desmond’s arm tightens a bit around his neck, the other lays on Sayid’s hip; Sayid settles for doing the same.
This sudden closeness should feel uneasy, if only because the last time he held someone like this, it was in Shannon’s tent; it doesn’t, though.
It actually feels good, nice, like the person he has in his arms isn’t one that he’s trying to destroy but one who he’s giving a hand in some kind of building up.
His fingers find their way to Desmond’s neck, threading hesitantly in his hair, working through a couple of knots carefully, aware that Desmond is probably more sleeping than awake, if not asleep already; Sayid doesn’t think he’s going to get some sleep himself soon, but it really isn’t that much important. Sure, he is tired as hell, but he doesn’t really feel like sleeping just now.
He settles for just staying awake for another while.
Maybe for the next 108 minutes, he thinks eying the clock on the other side of the room.
It reads 23.24.
He closes his eyes though, just lightly dozing for a while; when he opens them back first, it’s 23.48; the second time, 00.16; the third, 00.32; the fourth, 00.56.
Approximately 92 minutes. He just waits.
Around 1.05, he can feel some tension working its way through Desmond’s body and Sayid just tightens his hold a bit more.
He keeps his eyes on the clock; the more it advances towards 1.12, the more Desmond stirs and tries to turn, even if Sayid has to say that he’s being remarkably quiet; he probably wasn’t lying before.
Sayid doesn’t relent his hold and lets one of his hand roam over Desmond’s back slowly, in circles. It kind of works because even if during the minutes from 1.10 to 1.16 Sayid could feel each single muscle tensing, Desmond doesn’t actually wake up and ends up in the same position with a sigh.
Sayid lets out a breath; he feels like this could be the last sort of peaceful moment they’ll both get for a long time. But for now, he’s only aware of Desmond’s soft breathing against his skin, of his lips brushing his neck, of the blanket prickling under his feet and the slightly rocking motion of the ship.
He closes his eyes and thinks, this is just as good as it can get.
End.
Title: Our Mutual Friends
Characters: Sayid, Desmond (may have some subtle slashy tones but still isn't proper slash)
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: If they were mine, they would have showed this instead of showing the morning after.
Word count: too many.
Spoilers: if you haven's seen the first half of Ji Yeon, you're spoiled.
Summary: For philosophy_20 #7, both sides. What happened after Frank left and before Desmond woke up the morning after?
A/N: So, there's much talking really about a variety of subjects from Kelvin to Charlie. And since I kind of tortured poor Desmond in my last one, I guess he'll get some good and sane consoling session, hoping I've kept the thing believable. For elliotsmelliot because I say so and because our man needs to be taken care of ;)
On their way back from the communications room, Frank and that Keamy guy escorting them on the deck below, Desmond falls behind their pace pretty soon. Probably when they reach the middle of the corridor, though he had started to help himself walking while leaning against the wall and he had been swaying slightly since they left the room in the first place.
As soon as Sayid notices that there’s a bit too much space between them, he motions for Frank and the other to stop and goes back to where Desmond is leaning.
He takes a look at him. Desmond looks just too tired for his own good, but pretty fine otherwise. Sayid can’t really say he doesn’t understand it.
“Is there some problem?”, he asks. “Are you getting...”
“Nay. That’s not it. But I reckon this whole ordeal left me a bit drained, yeah?”, Desmond answers not looking at him.
Sayid can see it, alright. Thinking about it, both of them haven’t eaten anything since they left the island and while he still hasn’t quite resolved that time delay between when they left and when they arrived, he’s positive it’s been a while. After what’s just happened, a bit drained he’s the minimum. Hell, Sayid feels drained himself and he wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if Desmond fainted just now.
“Do you need any help?”
“Well, brother, I guess that isn’t somethin’ I’m too eager to say but aye. I think I do.”
Sayid smiles slightly and just takes Desmond’s left arm, bringing it over his shoulder. From the way Desmond shifts his weight, Sayid can safely assume that he was pretty close to fainting, alright. He guesses that speaking with the captain will have to wait until tomorrow and at this point he thinks that a night of rest won’t do either of them harm.
When they reach the sickbay again, there’s a blonde woman hovering outside the door with a book in her hand, though she doesn’t appear to be reading it and her fingers shake. Sayid takes a mental note to ask Frank something about her later; Frank calls her Regina when he greets her and then she steps aside letting them all in. Frank makes it kind of clear that they aren’t supposed to get out and then leaves.
As soon as his arm leaves Desmond’s shoulders, Desmond heads for the lower bed of the double bunk against the wall, closing his eyes and breathing out in relief; Sayid stands near the door and takes a better look at the sickbay. Minkowski’s bed is still in the place they left it; there are a couple of bottles of water on the table in front of him and when he opens a couple of drawers he finds only medicines, gauze and medical supplies.
He opens a bottle and takes a drink, then turns to Desmond.
“How about some water?”
“Aye, I’d like that.”
Desmond stands up and reaches him at the desk, taking the bottle and taking a few good drinks. He hands it back to Sayid after claiming that he already feels much better, then goes back to sitting on the bunk and kicks off his shoes, leaning back against the wall again. Sayid goes to the door and opens it a notch, but as soon as Regina raises her head and looks at him, he closes it again. She doesn’t look friendly at all and Sayid doesn’t like this business one bit, but he guesses it wouldn’t be much use to make his point to her. He can only hope Frank shows up himself.
He does, a couple of minutes later, with a brown bag under his arm.
“I thought I’d check on you guys, bring you some food. How are you feeling by the way?”, he asks Desmond.
“Much better, thanks.”
Sayid at this point doesn’t want to lose his occasion.
“Why are we being held captive? We don’t have nothing to do with Minkowski’s death.”, he says, assuming it’s the reason they’re getting guarded.
“This has nothing to do with Minkowski. Captain wasn’t very happy that you two decided to bust out of the sickbay into the radio..”
“We didn’t bust out. The door was left open.”, Sayid says taken by surprise. He had assumed it was Frank’s doing and when it isn’t confirmed, he can’t help thinking that the last thing he needs right now is another question to answer.
Frank drops the content of the bag on Minkowski’s bed and Sayid takes a can in his hand, turning it over, while Desmond does the same.
“Lima beans?”
“Sorry, we had a little problem in the kitchen.”
Sayid doesn’t want to think about what kitchen problem means, but he guesses that for now it’s better to just follow the advice, stay put for one night and then see to talk to the captain the day after. He turns to Desmond, who is standing near him, holding his can of beans.
“Well, guess it’s dinner time, yeah?”
“I guess so. Table or bed?”
“Seeing that there’s only one chair, bed looks more comfortable.”
“Point taken.”
Sayid sees that there were two spoons among the cans; he throws one at Desmond, who is already back to sitting on the bed, then takes one from himself in the same hand in which he holds the can opener and sits on the other side of the bunk. He motions for Desmond to pass him his can, opens it and hands it back, then he opens his own and eats a spoonful of beans. They’re cold and basically tasteless; he turns to his left to see that Desmond’s expression of disgust probably mirrors his own, but he eats nonetheless and Sayid does too.
“How are you feeling?”, he asks after a minute. He has this idea that maybe if they make some small talk he’ll be able to avoid thinking about how much he hates lima beans. If Desmond is up to it, since he has never struck Sayid as the talkative kind of person, but who knows. It’s not like Sayid is an extremely talkative person himself, truth to be told.
Desmond shrugs and answers while dipping the spoon in the can.
“’Tis a question, indeed. If I told you I can’t really answer?”
“I think it would be reasonable.”
“Reasonable, brother? Looks pretty ungrateful to me, to say so.”
“Should you say you have never felt better in your whole life?”
“I reckon I should.”
“I can see that you don’t. But I think there’s more to it than ungratefulness.”
“You really think so?”
“I have this impression.”
Sayid is at half of the can and well, he’s resolving to finish it if only because he knows he’s going to need energies tomorrow.
“You really hate those, brother?”
“I hate food in cans.”
“Can’t really blame you. Thinkin’ I swore I’d never eat beans again after...”
Desmond stops talking, eating another small portion of beans, but now Sayid feels curious.
“After what?”
“After bein’ in the army.”
“You were?”
“Got kicked out ‘fore I could really do a bloody thing.”
“May I ask why?”
Desmond turns to him for a second, but he doesn’t seem upset by the question.
“Only if I can ask you somethin’ else in return.”
Sayid shrugs. It’s not like he has had problems sharing any information with anyone until now, he doesn’t see why he should start now. Even if he has to admit that talking with someone who doesn’t know who he is and what he has done was starting to make him feel quite at ease.
“Sure.”
“Not following orders. A year and a half of military prison after that. And all we ate, were the damn beans.”
Sayid nods, thankful that he’s gone past three quarters of his can.
“So what’s your question?”
“How did you end here?”
“Excuse me?”, Sayid says not getting the question at first.
“On the island. I jus’ wanted to know how’s that you ended on that plane. Only if you don’t mind, ‘course.”
“Not at all. I was searching for a woman.”
Desmond laughs and maybe Sayid should feel offended, but he really doesn’t because it isn’t the mocking kind of laughter. He just waits for Desmond to explain himself.
“What you’d call interesting. I wrecked there tryin’ to get mine back.”
“Penny.”
“Aye. What’s your’s name?”
“Nadia. But I doubt she’d have any reason for wanting to see me.”, Sayid answers throwing the can in a nearby bin. Desmond is still at half of it.
“Why’s that? You don’t strike me as the kind a woman wouldn’t like to see.”
Because you don’t know, Sayid thinks.
“I think you would not want to know.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, brother.”
“Well, the one I made was... less excusable than most.”, he says, his voice dropping down a notch.
“I was the one to leave Penny.”, Desmond mutters in return while taking another mouthful of beans, looking relieved that he’s finishing his ration, too.
“I tortured her.”
Sayid doesn’t have an idea of why he said it, probably ruining not only the strangely too easy mood that had established between them and presumably every possible interaction he was going to have with Desmond. Sure, on the island the new start policy hadn’t earned him much disfavor for his past actions, but, especially with people he didn’t really interact much with, he could always sense some fear behind the politeness. Especially after Sawyer and the inhalers.
Desmond turns to him and Sayid doesn’t find in his eyes anything close to the resentment he expected. Desmond seems just merely interested.
“You were in the Republican Guard, brother?”
“Well, you are the first person I met that didn’t need me to say it first.”, he answers, sincerely surprised. Desmond hands him the empty can and Sayid throws it in the bin, leaning back against the wall after he’s done. Desmond draws a leg to his chest, draping a hand around his ankle, then turns back to him again.
“Wasn’t too hard to figure it out. You’ve got good training. And I know a good deal ‘bout the Gulf War, even if it was information from the other side, I’m afraid.”
Sayid doesn’t miss the wince of disgust that crosses Desmond’s face for a second, but he’s fairly sure it isn’t directed at him since he’s not looking in Sayid’s direction but in some random one, seemingly the window.
“Really?”
“You live three years stuck in a hole with someone who’s been there... you’re bound to get some information yourself, yeah?”
Sayid nods. He knows that Desmond had been in that hatch three years and Jack had said something about someone else being there until more or less the time of the crash, but his information doesn’t go past it and now he finds himself genuinely interested. The only thing stopping him from asking is that Desmond doesn’t seem much comfortable with the subject, but on the other side, he was the one to bring it up. Sayid figures that asking won’t hurt, even if they should probably go to sleep since it’s half past ten, or so the clock on the wall says, and they’re not going to have an easy day tomorrow.
“Would you tell me about it?”
Desmond turns to him now, hair partially hiding his eyes and falling down on his face, that knee still drawn to his chest.
“It’s a long and pathetic story.”
”You could try to make it short and I will stand the pathetic. I have some pathetic stories to tell myself.”
At that point the corners of Desmond’s lips turn upwards and he lets out a laugh which is kind of genuine and Sayid thinks it’s the most relaxed he has been until now.
“Well, why not. Let’s have it. So, three years ago, I’m in my boat race ‘round the world.”
“The one to get Penny back?”, Sayid asks, even if the connection between a girl and a boat race really doesn’t occur to him. He guesses there is more behind it, but for now he lets it go.
“Aye, that one. Anyway, I crash here, this guy comes out of the jungle runnin’ and he brings me down there. He says there’s a sickness outside and that it’s impossible to go out, but first thing, he pushes the button. What’s it for, I say. Saving the world, he answers. Then for a while..”
“Which would be three years?”
“Which would be exactly three years, brother, we save the world together and we talk ‘bout the Gulf War. Then Kelvin... died, and I was there for forty days until your friend John... hey, brother, is there anythin’ wrong?”
Sayid can guess that his face is showing exactly how sick he has started to feel when Desmond mentioned his hatch partner’s name.
“How... how did you say he was called? And do you have his full name?”
“Aye, for my sodding luck. Kelvin Joe Inman.”, Desmond answers with a bitterness in his tone that doesn’t escape Sayid, not at all.
“Did you say he’s dead?”
“Aye. But you don’t really wanna know this one, brother.”
“I told you this same sentence before and you wouldn’t take it.”
“I can tell you only if you tell me why you want to know first.”
Sayid takes a breath and realizes that it’s just fair, even if thinking about it makes him feel as sick as he’s sure he looks.
“He captured me during the war when I was just a simple soldier. He taught me how... how...”
Sayid finds himself unable to finish the sentence, a lump forming in his throats and one of his hands threatening to start shaking, so he just turns to Desmond again and shrugs, hoping to get the point straight.
Seems like he does, judging at the way Desmond’s eyes change when he realizes it.
“He taught you how to torture people?”
Sayid gives him the most bare of the nods and Desmond brings his free hand to his head.
“Now, if only we weren’t talkin’ about him, that’d be somethin’ to laugh on.”
“Why?”
Desmond lowers his head and his eyes fall to the floor. He’s silent for a few seconds, then asks Sayid if he can turn the light off. Sayid stands up and does it, going back to the bed, the pale moonlight now being the only source of illumination of the room. When he sits down, Desmond starts to talk and Sayid listens to every word he says, realizing that it was the first time Desmond told that story to someone, a few facts about life with Kelvin in the hatch first, a dry and quick recap of what happened the day of the crash secondly; then he adds a few, short sentences telling Sayid how he caused for the hatch to implode. Then Desmond adds a bitter the end and leans back against the wall, letting out a breath and still holding that knee to his chest.
“It wasn’t your fault.”, is the first and only thing Sayid thinks he can say.
“I didn’t mean it.”, it’s the answer. “Though if it makes you feel better to know he’s dead, I guess you’ve got every right, brother.”
“He... he just.. it seems so stupid to say.”
“You wanna say he ruined your life, you can. The sodding bastard surely didn’t make me a bloody favor, either.”
Sayid nods, even if he knows that Desmond couldn’t possibly see it even if he was looking at him; he tries to think about it.
He hadn’t been in the hatch himself much; just when he fixed that computer, then when he and Jack had that look at the hatch’s doorway and for a quick shower once in a while. He was never on button duty and he felt somewhat oppressed; there wasn’t really a comparison to hold between the hatch and outside.
He tries to imagine it, being shut down there without breathing fresh air for three years, in company of him, and he finds himself mostly disgusted. Then he tries to imagine being there, alone, for more than a month, pushing that button every 108 minutes, without a break and, Sayid guesses, even without three consecutive hours of proper sleeping.
He can only feel oppressed, dreading the bare idea of it, not thinking about the whole failsafe key matter; when he looks at Desmond again, who has been silent until now, Sayid can’t help feeling something close to admiration.
“How did you do it?”, he asks earnestly.
In return, he gets what he thinks is a shrug.
“I just did it. And I’m sodding glad I haven’t got to do it anymore. Oh, regarding that..”
“Yes?”
“You can choose the bed you want for.. later, I mean. Up or down, doesn’t make any difference.”
Sayid remembers about the hatch’s double bunk and he gets an idea that Desmond isn’t really looking forward to revive the bunk experience again. But he can safely assure neither of them wants to sleep on Minkowski’s bed. He doesn’t expect the next question.
“Brother, that’s... I know it’s way off but.. you mind if I ask you another thing?”
“No, sure.”
“How.. did you... no, I mean... were you and Charlie close?”
The question hits Sayid like a blow to the guts. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it. He has. But not in situations in which he could allow himself to think too much. Now it does hit, and it does hurt; he doesn’t know if he wants to answer it, but his eyes are adjusted to the light now and a certain, quiet uneasiness showing up in every trait of Desmond’s face is enough to convince him that the man is desperate to talk about it. He forces the lump in his throat to go away, takes a breath and answers, trying not to get lost in memories he was sure were going to come to him as soon as he started thinking about Charlie.
“Quite. He was... he was the first person I actually introduced myself to on the first night of the crash. I gave him a hand in... a couple of occasions, let’s say. When Ben... Henry Gale.. whoever he is, was in the hatch, he had been the only one not to think that I was crazy for believing he was indeed one of them. Then I never really was at the camp during those last weeks and...”
“He called for you when I asked for someone we could trust.”
“Yes, that. I just...”
Sayid smiles sadly.
“Probably I didn’t really process everything already.”
“Guess you’d hate my guts if you did, brother.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You would.”
“Listen, Hurley’s told me something about it while we were going back to the beach. I know about your flashes and a few other things.”
“Guess that’d lead you to believe it’s totally my fault, yeah?”
“I never do judgments if I don’t know both sides of the story. I have already made that mistake more times than necessary.”
“You would hear my side, so?”
“Most certainly.”
There’s a minute of silence before Desmond speaks again, his voice low, the head always turned in the window’s direction.
“The first flash... ‘twas the morning after I joined your camp. It was one where he got electrocuted by lightening. The second, you were there, too.”
“When Claire was drowning?”
“Aye. That one exactly. I just... I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I barely spoke to him, I didn’t know a sodding thing about him except that he kept on... dying in front of my eyes and... you know, on top of everythin’, guess I just wasn’t in the best conditions of my life, yeah? Anyway, I... wasn’t plannin’ on telling him.. ‘Twould have been better if he didn’t know.”
Desmond turns his head slightly against him and Sayid nods, not saying anything for now. It makes sense; he probably would have opted for the same choice.
“Then... he and Hurley got suspicious and well... they managed to get me drunk.”
“You told him?”
“Aye. He just... they kept on pressuring, it already was... y’know, hard on its own without other worries... I just told him. I shouldn’t have.”
“If they got you drunk, you’re not exactly the first to blame. You do realize it?”
“Aye, but that isn’t the point, brother. Anyway, it happened again when you were on that mission and I had to tell Claire, too. Which I’d have rather avoided. The followin’ time... it was when Naomi landed.”
Sayid nods; he knows at least much more behind that particular fact, but of course nothing about Charlie risking his life there, too.
“And that was when... I really am not proud of myself, nay. But... in my vision, wasn’t Naomi with the parachute. She was Penny. And he, Charlie I mean, died before we got to her.”
“You mean you...”
“I didn’t tell him that he was supposed to die. I wasn’t... I couldn’t... I just... I couldn’t let ‘im die even if that meant for the future to change again.”
Sayid nods again and Desmond takes another breath.
“Anyway. The last one, ‘twas the one of the Looking Glass. But that flash... was wrong.”
“Wrong?”
“There were two girls down there. Others? You called them like that, yeah? I just... saw him go there, flip the switch and then it flooded. But no girls. Anyway... on that boat, I realized that maybe I was wrong that time and that I just shouldn’t have told him he died. Or that maybe... it was for me to do. I don’t... I don’t know brother, but I offered to go in his place. Before, he had given me a... some list that I was meant to give Claire. Don’t ask me why, I haven’t read it. Wasn’t my place to.”
“You didn’t give it?”
“Nay. Not yet. Anyway, he... he knocked me down and went for himself.”
For a second, Sayid thinks he can see the ghost of a smile on Desmond’s lips; but then it disappears and he goes on.
“When I woke up.. there was that Bakunin shootin’ on me from the beach. I went down and I found him tied to a chair while those two gals were there arguin’. I just hid somewhere and waited. I though maybe I could have done somethin’. That wasn’t the flash I got anyway. Cuttin’ it short, Bakunin got into the station, too, and he killed the girls. Said it was ‘cause of orders.”
Ben, Sayid thinks before giving again his full attention.
“I was hidin’ in a locker with arms in or somethin’ like that... anyway, there were some guns next to me. I got out and shot him before he could kill Charlie, too. He started questioning one of the girls, to have some sorta code I think... if I understood, if he flipped the switch inserting the code first the station wasn’t gonna flood.”
“So you both lived, if he did?”
“Aye. She gave it and while I took a look around he went and flipped the switch. When I went back to the room I saw... two things. First, that Bakunin’s body was gone. Second... Charlie was in front of a monitor and... Penny was on it. She told me she talked with him, before... during the call, yeah? I started runnin’ towards the room and... Bakunin... I dunno how he could’ve been alive but.. he threw a grenade in the room and Charlie shut the door just when I arrived.”
Desmond then stops and Sayid can hear how labored his breathing has become.
“I tried... I tried to break it down but... that glass wouldn’t even crack. Then he... he found some pen and he wrote that this wasn’t Penny’s boat on his hand. He pressed it to the glass and then he just.. he...”
Maybe it’s the chocked sob that escapes Desmond’s lips, or maybe the tension that Sayid can feel radiating from his body; he covers Desmond’s wrist with his hand, hoping it’s enough.
It is and he keeps on, but doesn’t end the sentence.
“I just... you know how you feel when you think you’ve failed everythin’ in your life? I... I had saved his life so many times that I couldn’t... I wish I had time to do anything but I had to get back to tell his message and that was when you met me at the beach.”
Sayid nods and gives a light squeeze on Desmond’s wrist. He remembers that moment too well, indeed.
“I overheard Hurley tellin’ you about... the flashes and whatever he told you before we lost him while we were headin’ back and well... I just... I had meant to speak to him alone for a moment but then we met the others. I... I was gonna tell Claire myself and I’d have probably given her the list then but...”
“Hurley went.”
“Aye. He went and I just... I felt so out of place, like... like I didn’t have a right to interfere. Or somethin’ like that. They were there crying, I just couldn’t get there, I... guess I got scared or somethin’, or that I thought the last thing Claire would have wanted would be, well, speakin’ with me. I thought I’d just approach her after. Then... then there was the split. I went with Jack mainly ‘cause I wanted to see for myself who actually sent the boat and why did they know who I was. But... guess it’s also because when you’re a coward, you can’t really change.”
“Why? You don’t...”
“I am. I don’t think I’d have had the guts to go with them, brother. Not in a million years.”
Sayid shakes his head, trying to process all the information. It isn’t an easy situation to deal with, he can see it from a mile away, but there’s one thing he’s sure of, after hearing it.
“You did what you could.”
“What?”
Sayid doesn’t move his hand and takes a breath.
“If I did understand right, you started having the flashes just after you joined the camp. Right?”
“Aye.”
“Well, I think you really are too hard on yourself. I mean, you had just... thought you were going to sacrifice your life to save us all and if I remember well from when me, Jack and Sawyer found you in the boat, you exactly weren’t at your best conditions.”
“Nay. Sorry for the treatment I gave you that time, by the way.”
“That was nothing. Anyway, if that wasn’t the worst idea I ever had in my life, it comes close. Apart from that, after everything you are telling me that happened... I don’t really think you are to blame for it.”
“If I just didn’t...”
“You can’t go by ifs, or you’re never going to get past it.”
Desmond nods without too much conviction, bringing his other hand to his eyes.
“I just... I didn’t give myself time to think about it much. I don’t think I can face it. I just watched him drown and there wasn’t a thing I could’ve done. And I didn’t even give Claire...”
His voice trails away and Sayid guesses it’s not something he’s going to get over soon, if he gets over it. But at least that was a start, he thinks.
He hadn’t lied, before, anyway. If anything, Desmond’s story confirmed him that it really wasn’t his fault; Sayid can see only the absurdity of the fatalism surrounding Charlie’s death and he just feels deeply sorry for both of them. Of course for Charlie, who had been a good friend to him in every stance, but also for Desmond because how was he supposed to deal with something like that?
Then it occurs to him.
“Desmond?”
“Aye?”
“Does anyone know how did the hatch implode?”
“What do you mean?”
“Has anyone asked?”
“I think... John knows for sure.”
“No one asked you?”
“Brother, I really am not familiar with a good number of your people there.”
Sayid nods and doesn’t know what to make of the fact that no one in camp has realized that Desmond had saved all of their lives and probably didn’t even get a thanks in return, but thing is, he has learned more than a couple of things today and he can’t help finding it surprising, how they both came to this point. Especially considering he wouldn’t have thought, a week ago, that he could ever have such a conversation with Desmond of everyone.
Suddenly he feels quite tired.
“Do you think we should sleep on it?”
Well, he surely didn’t expect Desmond letting out the most bitter laugh of the whole evening.
“Aye, we probably should. Or at least, I hope you manage to.”
“Only me?”
“Well... I think I forgot to tell you the most pathetic thing in all this story. You up for it?”
“I am up for it.”
Sayid doesn’t expect anything good.
It isn’t.
“The only time I slept a whole night straight since the hatch imploded... was when they got me drunk.”
“What?”, Sayid asks, fearing what he has understood.
“I always... I always wake up every 108 minutes. More or less.”
That’s the sentence that hits Sayid the hardest.
It could be because of Desmond’s tone of voice, bitter, dry and resigned; it could be the way his lips turn into a sad smile bathed in the pale moonlight; maybe it’s because after everything that has been said, that sentence looks just like the last straw.
“I think I can’t say one thing that is not... lame, I guess.”
“Believe me brother, I know. I got no hope for now, but I’m not nearly as noisy as I was the first nights at camp. I think I’ll just wake up whichever bunk I end in anyway.”
“It wll not be a problem. I mean, you can’t do something about it.”, Sayid answers earnestly.
“Brother, I’m startin’ to think that if a quarter of the people I knew were a quarter nice to me as you have been this evening, my life would have been a bloody lot easier.”
“Was that a compliment?”
“Aye, or at least was meant to.”
Sayid has to smile at it.
He guesses that if there is one thing Desmond could use right now is not ending up exactly like in the hatch. And even if the only way he can think of is really nothing looking remotely close to reasonable right now, Sayid figures it’s worth trying.
“Not even one night except that one?”
“Nay. Not a single sodding one. ‘Twas already happening before Kelvin died but... guess it just won’t take me a month to get rid of it.”
“Right. And, do you know one thing?”
“Aye?”
“I do not think we should actually discuss beds.”
“Sure we shouldn’t. Told you to choose, brother, I don’t care.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“What did you mean then?”
“I think you just could use some... unobtrusive company.”
“Do you?”, Desmond answers. And at least he isn’t upset, or maybe he didn’t realize what Sayid has just suggested.
“Do you?”
“So you would be unobtrusive?”
“I have been told so.”
“Well, you don’t strike as obtrusive, brother.”
“So what do you say?”
“I’d be askin’ you if you’d really volunteer, yeah?”
“Why not?”
“Why should you?”
Sayid’s hand leaves Desmond’s wrist and goes to his shoulder.
“I just have this idea that you may need some.”
“Let’s say you’re right. What would you suggest then?”
Sayid doesn’t waste time in trying to phrase something he isn’t so sure of in the first place.
He just wraps an arm around Desmond’s shoulder and the other one around his waist, then turns so that they both lay on the bed, Desmond’s back turned against the door and Sayid’s against the wall.
He wonders if this isn’t going too far but after a second he gets the impression that it isn’t Desmond’s opinion. Sayid can feel him relaxing a bit against him; the situation is strangely comfortable; it really should be more awkward than anything else, but it isn’t. Desmond breathes steadily, his lips an inch from Sayid’s neck, hot air prickling against his skin, his head settled against Sayid’s chin.
“Is this alright?”, he asks.
Aye it’s all he gets for an answer. Desmond’s arm tightens a bit around his neck, the other lays on Sayid’s hip; Sayid settles for doing the same.
This sudden closeness should feel uneasy, if only because the last time he held someone like this, it was in Shannon’s tent; it doesn’t, though.
It actually feels good, nice, like the person he has in his arms isn’t one that he’s trying to destroy but one who he’s giving a hand in some kind of building up.
His fingers find their way to Desmond’s neck, threading hesitantly in his hair, working through a couple of knots carefully, aware that Desmond is probably more sleeping than awake, if not asleep already; Sayid doesn’t think he’s going to get some sleep himself soon, but it really isn’t that much important. Sure, he is tired as hell, but he doesn’t really feel like sleeping just now.
He settles for just staying awake for another while.
Maybe for the next 108 minutes, he thinks eying the clock on the other side of the room.
It reads 23.24.
He closes his eyes though, just lightly dozing for a while; when he opens them back first, it’s 23.48; the second time, 00.16; the third, 00.32; the fourth, 00.56.
Approximately 92 minutes. He just waits.
Around 1.05, he can feel some tension working its way through Desmond’s body and Sayid just tightens his hold a bit more.
He keeps his eyes on the clock; the more it advances towards 1.12, the more Desmond stirs and tries to turn, even if Sayid has to say that he’s being remarkably quiet; he probably wasn’t lying before.
Sayid doesn’t relent his hold and lets one of his hand roam over Desmond’s back slowly, in circles. It kind of works because even if during the minutes from 1.10 to 1.16 Sayid could feel each single muscle tensing, Desmond doesn’t actually wake up and ends up in the same position with a sigh.
Sayid lets out a breath; he feels like this could be the last sort of peaceful moment they’ll both get for a long time. But for now, he’s only aware of Desmond’s soft breathing against his skin, of his lips brushing his neck, of the blanket prickling under his feet and the slightly rocking motion of the ship.
He closes his eyes and thinks, this is just as good as it can get.
End.