i don't even know what i'm writing anymore.
but i gots fic!
Title: “Bleed Like Me”
Author:
uhzoomzip
Summary: Angst-y Shannon fic. Allusions to Jack/Shannon.
Author's Notes: This assumes Shannon wasn't killed on the island, so AU.
She had been innocent once. And he, in better times, had been disarming, enchanting even. He had surprised her by trying to hold her after Boone, whether to ease her grief or share his own, she did not know. But his touch felt like fire and she had pulled away immediately, as if she had actually been burned.
She hasn't cried since then. Since the island. Since Boone. This is what she's had to do to survive. She became hard, grew a shell which she won't let anyone penetrate. If she exposes any part of her soft body, she knows she will be decimated. So she stands, a calculated look of boredom and displeasure on her face, an impenetrable wall. It works; no one approaches. Just stares and whispers, an occasional small smile tossed her way, but she never smiles back.
Boone got past it once, and so did Sayid. Even he once managed to break through, but she doesn't want to think of him right now. Instead, she forces herself to take in the sights around her. To be present in the misery.
They are here today, burying one of their own from so long ago. She didn't think the emotions would be so raw this many years later, but everyone seems devastated. They are in the same room, would be sharing the same air, if he were breathing, she thinks. But she doesn't want to think of him like that, not breathing, in an ornate steel box across the room. She makes sure she stays as far away as possible while still standing in the same room. She wants him to know that she came, on the off chance that he's observing from where ever he is now. She just doesn't want to see him.
Sun is sobbing, and Jin is holding her in his arms. She narrows her eyes; she can't imagine letting someone holding her like that when she cried. But then, she can't imagine crying. She lost the ability years ago. She tries sometimes, but the sensation is much like trying to force out a sneeze that just won't come.
She remembers the girl who screamed among the chaos after they crashed on the island, the girl who cried when it all finally hit her. She doesn't think she would recognize that girl if she walked up to her and smacked her across the face.
There have been too many casualties. People she loved, her own brother included, now nothing but images frozen in time, and anecdotes. And now Jack. If Shannon were honest, she'd like to jump into that casket with him. They would lower them down into the ground together, one dead and one lifeless. She would drown in the earth, and can think of nothing she'd like more.
But that isn't how the story ends for her, she knows. Desmond had told her how it will happen, after a long night with a bottle of scotch, trying to laugh it off the next day. But Shannon knows it was a secret that never should have been let out, just like the numbers.
So instead, she leaves, pushing through the heavy wooden doors, temporarily blinded by the bright sunshine. Putting on her sunglasses and smoothing her dress, she goes to meet her fate on the corner of 4th and Wilshire.