A missing scene for episode 1.16, Outlaws, in which Sayid and Shannon discuss guilt.



Disclaimer: All people, places, and things Lost are copyright JJ Abrams, David Lindelof, and the ABC Network. This fanfiction is for entertainment only, and I seek neither credit for nor profit from the characters and plot of the television series.


Not Alone

The lump that formed in Sayid's throat when he told Charlie about the firing squad still lodged there as he trudged back up the beach. He remained lost in the memory until Shannon's voice startled him into the present.

"What were you and Charlie talking about?"

Sayid looked up to see her several yards away, standing in the shade of a tree. How long had she watched there? She was too far away to have heard the conversation.

"Nothing."

He tried to smile, but Shannon's expression told him it wasn't a convincing one. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he continued toward her.

Shannon scrutinized him, and he tried to avoid her gaze.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "Your eyes are kind of red."

Sayid swallowed hard. He'd felt the prick of tears, but hoped no one could see them.

"It is the salt in the air."

Shannon knit her brows. "You're upset."

"I am not upset," he said, though he knew the sharpness with which he said it belied his words.

Sayid continued past her, but Shannon caught his arm.

"What's going on?"

Sayid whipped back to face her.

"I told Charlie what happens to you after you kill a man."

His tone was harsher than he meant for it to be, and as soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. An expression he'd seen before crossed Shannon's features, reminding him of a child who had just been scolded unfairly. He expected her eyes to pool with tears, as they had the other time he'd seen her look like that. Instead, the vulnerability vanished, and she gazed levelly at him, the golden flecks in her eyes glinting fire.

"If men wouldn't bottle up their emotions, they wouldn't blow up at people who try to be nice to them."

She stalked away.

Sayid remained rooted where he was, one hand hanging limp at his side, the other working through his hair. He watched Shannon, across the beach, heft one of her suitcases off the pile and rummage through the one beneath it. The way she tossed items aside, letting them fall in the sand, made her anger clear. But when she sank onto her beach towel and hunched over to paint her toenails, Sayid knew she was more hurt than anything.

He cursed himself as he strode to her. No wonder Shannon didn't make great efforts to befriend people; she was never rewarded for it. How could he have pushed her away? She got enough of that from Boone.

When Sayid approached. Shannon kept her eyes on the glittery pink polish she was applying to her toenails.

"Can I talk to you?" Sayid asked.

"You don't owe me an explanation."

"You're right. I owe you an apology. My emotions were misdirected."

"Accepted."

Shannon looked up at him, and Sayid was relieved to see forgiveness in her eyes.

"Want to sit?" she asked. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to."

Sayid settled himself next to her, but kept a space between them. He sniffed and turned his head as the nail polish fumes burned his nose.

"Sorry. I'm used to the smell." Shannon replaced the cap and set the bottle aside.

"You do not have to stop."

"It's okay."

He felt her gaze on him again, and like a magnet drew his up to it. Sayid's throat constricted again, and before he could think, choked words tumbled out.

"I told Charlie that he is not the only one who has killed a man who deserved to die. And that he isn't the only one who will not be able to sleep at night for the guilt."

Shannon said nothing, only stared at him. Sayid realized for the first time that when he fought in the Gulf War, Shannon was a little girl. He wondered if she quite realized that he represented the other side she learned about in history classes. What would she think of him if she knew? What he shared with her just now might cool her interest in him. Not that it mattered. They were only friends, had exchanged only a few words prior to a few days ago.

But her eyes (were they green or brown?), so intent upon him, made him think it did matter what she thought of him.

Suddenly Shannon reached out her hand. Sayid inhaled sharply as her fingers brushed his hair back from his face.

"I know about guilt, Sayid. Don't pretend you're the only person who does."

Sayid's eyes widened. Had she overheard his previous conversation?

"That was my advice to Charlie."

"You're a smart guy. Listen to yourself."

Shannon lowered her hand, resting it on the blanket between them. Hesitantly, Sayid stretched out his fingers to touch hers. He expected her to pull her hand away, but she didn't.

Softly, Sayid said, "I will listen to you."

For the first time in a long time, he was not alone.

The End

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