Lost Video Island

[mistojen]

I've been writing this series of xover fics and was begged to continue by some of my "fans" over on LJ, but when I got as far as a few stories from the end, I stopped getting responses. I blame it on the summer ending, but maybe that's just me not wanting my ego to bust.

Anyway, I know that there are a few Dead Like Me fans on this board, so I figure I'll start to post these and if anyone is interested in me continuing to post until I finish, leave me some love and I'll be happy to oblige.

The first installment starting...now.



New Job

“What the f***?” I shout. No one looks up. I can see Sayid holding me. I’m all bloody; my eyes are closed. What...happened to me...? I didn’t feel anything. Hell, I don’t remember even seeing anything.

“Dead girl.”

I whirl around and stare in awe. There’s a man standing beside me now. I don’t know him; he isn’t one of the survivors. The words that came out of his mouth haven’t even registered in my head; I just know that someone spoke to me and it was a new face.

“What the f***...?” I ask again, looking at him and then turning back to look at...myself.

“I’ve got a new job for you, Shannon,” he says, with an accent that reminds me of Charlie, and he’s grinning. Jesus, f***, he’s grinning!

“How do you know my name?”

“I just do,” he replies. “Would you prefer me to call you ‘Dead Girl’? Because, I can, if you want,” he says and that f***ing grin is still there.

Now the words register. I can feel my jaw drop and I can see Sayid in my peripheral vision. He’s starting to stand. I don’t know who all the people are; I see Michael and Jin. There’s a big black guy and a couple of women, and I can’t help but wonder...if Michael and Jin are there, where’s Sawyer?

“I’m sorry,” I say, “dead?”

His grin finally goes away and is replaced with a look of apology. He nods at me.

“I’m not dead,” I say. I shake my head and I glare at him. “I’m standing right here, moron.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he jokes and that f***ing grin is back. “You’re also lying right there, dead, on the ground,” he says and he points to my body.

My body. Jesus, I’ve accepted it...

“What happened?” I ask, tearing my eyes away from my broken self. It’s too creepy to keep looking at her...me...it? Whatever, it’s just f***ing creepy to keep looking and I can’t stand it, so I look back at the new man and I wait for my answer.

“The woman,” he says, pointing at a Latina woman standing beside Michael and Jin, “she thought you were someone else. She shot you. I was wondering how it was going to happen,” he says, “because one minute you were running and I couldn’t see anyone, and the next, well...here you are.”

“So, I’m really dead?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “Then where’s my brother? Where’s Boone? Aren’t you supposed to, like, reunite with your loved ones passed or some corny s*** like that?” I challenge. “And who the hell are you, anyway?”

“One question at a time, love. Yes,” he says, leaning against a tree and looking into my eyes. “You are dead. Can’t say I’ve met Boone; can say that it’s a pansy name. I don’t know what happens when someone dies and actually passes, because I’m undead. Also, my name is Mason,” he says.

I notice, for the first time, that he’s actually rather attractive. “So, now what?” I ask him awkwardly, finding it difficult not to let my eyes stray back to myself. I look awful...

“Now you’re going to be one of us,” Mason says and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Grim Reapers, they call us,” he adds. “I’m not fantastic at explaining, and George just up and ran off–she was so bloody excited to pass on her torch, she didn’t even so much as say goodbye,” he says and he sounds a little bit bitter, if I do say so myself.

“What?”

I can’t help it. I don’t know what else to say to this man.

“Come on, love, I’ll introduce you to the boss; he’ll explain everything,” he says and he steps forward, wrapping an arm around my waist and walking me away from the scene of my demise.

“But,” I say, looking at Sayid with sad eyes, “what about...?” I let it trail off; I feel stupid even thinking about it let alone saying it. I guess I’ll figure it out eventually and anyway, looks like my eternity has been chosen for me. I figure it’s more important to find out what exactly all of that means, first, and worry about Sayid later. I can always come watch him, anyway, I think.

“Your friend?” Mason asks. “He’ll be all right, love. They always are, eventually.”

I steal one last look at Sayid and I blow him a kiss. I’ll really miss him. I hope he misses me, too. But, for now, I just follow Mason away and I’m strangely ready for this new life that I’m headed toward. That’s all I need to know right now.
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avatar: Plastic!Winchester Theater by anteka @ LJ; icon by me
sig by AlcoholicPixie

[IntoTheVoid]

[mistojen]

*squee!* someone's actually reading?!

sweet!

Anonymous Emily

“So this guy, Rube,” I start as Mason sits down beside me, “like, gives us assignments–like, tells us who to kill?”

“Whose souls to take,” he corrects me, “they’re set to die, anyway, when we get the assignments, but essentially, yes,” he says.

“So he calls the shots, basically?” I ask him, turning my head to actually look at him.

Mason nods, raising an eyebrow at me as if to ask me what the hell I’m getting at without having to actually come out and say it.

“And he’s making me stay on Craphole Island, why, then...?” I ask, furrowing my brow angrily.

He smiles at me. “Think of it this way,” he says, putting an arm around me, “you get to leave between jobs, at least.”

I shrug non-commitally. “Yeah, that’s true. So then, how do we find out who these people are and where do we find them...?” I ask, nodding down at the post-it note in my hand. Mason has one, too.

“That’s the trick, love,” he says with a smile and stands, offering me a hand and helping me up when I take it. “There’s got to be a room or something...some place indoors,” he says, looking at his own post-it, “at least that’s what it seems like...”

“The hatch,” I mutter, “duh...the f***ing hatch. How could I forget?” I ask myself, frowning. That stupid thing is the reason Boone is dead, as far as I’m concerned. That stupid hatch and Locke, anyway.

“Sorry?” he asks, raising an eyebrow again.

I smile a little and start walking. “My brother...and this guy...they found this hatch...and after he died,” I say, “we actually got in there–it’s like a bomb shelter or something, but also kind of like an apartment...that’s got to be it.”

Mason shrugs, nodding. “We have to find out who they are, first...” he points out.

“Shit...right...well, they weren’t from my side of the island,” I reply, “I wonder if they’re Others...”

“Others.” He says it skeptically and it isn’t a question.

I turn to him and suddenly I’m enraged. “Yes. Others,” I snap, “people who were here before we crashed...they killed some of us; kidnapped Claire when she was pregnant and left Charlie for dead hanging from a tree...they’re animals. We don’t know who they are, so they’re The Others.” He’s looking at me like I’m crazy and that pisses me off. “Let’s go the beach and see if maybe they haven’t made it to the hatch, yet,” I suggest, keen to be off the subject.

Mason nods and shrugs again. “You’re the boss, love...I’ve never really been here.”

“Lucky you,” I mutter under my breath and turn around to walk in the other direction, toward camp.

“You know, gorgeous,” Mason says as he wraps an arm around me, “they’re going to think that we’re others...”

“Others,” I reply, needing him to hear the capitalization in my voice. “You, maybe, but not me. They know me.”

“Au contraire,” Mason says, laughing at me. He shakes his head. “You don’t look the same to them as you do to me. You don’t look like Shannon Rutherford anymore. Speaking of which, you need to come up with a new name for yourself. Rube will take you to get a license and everything another day.”

I raise an eyebrow at him and shake my head as we emerge from the trees and I can see the people walking around camp unaffected. Like I didn’t die...like they didn’t care.

And then I hear it.

The whispers. I see it. People staring. Mason pulls me closer. “Do not tell them that you’re Shannon, whatever you do,” he mutters in my ear.

Sayid is striding angrily toward us and I feel my heart skip a beat. I want to smile, but the look in his eyes scares me too much.

“I mean it, love,” Mason hisses in my ear. “Hey! Mate!” he calls out as Sayid starts to close in on us.

“Who are you?” Sayid spits. Jack and Sawyer are coming up behind him.

Mason puts his hands up defensively. “Easy...we come in peace,” he says. “We were part of a Rescue Mission...” his voice trails off uncertainly.

“Are you the survivors of Oceanic Flight 815?” I ask quickly, hoping that Mason doesn’t get angry for me jumping in. Sayid looks like he’s about to kill. Sawyer is immediately less interested in the two of us and wanders away, leaving any potential threat we might be to Jack and Sayid.

Sayid looks taken aback. “Perhaps...” he says warily. I want to take him up in my arms and kiss him. The feelings wash over me all over again. I think I really did love him. I think I still do...

“Our boat crashed...a long way from here,” Mason lies, “and we were the only survivors...we somehow managed to swim back.”

Sayid will see right through that, I know it...

Jack buys it, though. “Well, then welcome to our own personal Hell...” he mutters and walks away, now disinterested in us.

Sayid is still staring. Not at Mason, though; Sayid is staring at me and for a moment I’m afraid he sees Shannon, so I quickly make up a name and introduce myself. “I’m Emily,” I say, mustering up all the strength inside me not to jump into his arms and tell him that I’m really me.

“Sayid,” he replies coldly and looks at Mason. I feel a stab of pain and hurt. Am I not pretty to him anymore? What do I look like to the living, if I don’t look like Shannon...? Like me? Am I really just an anonymous being to him, now? Am I really just another unfamiliar face...?

Mason just nods and shakes Sayid’s extended hand. He doesn’t offer Sayid an alias, but Sayid doesn’t seem to mind. He walks away.

As I watch him depart, a sadness tugs at me and I look at the ground.

“It’ll get easier, love,” Mason says in a reassuring voice, again wrapping arm around me.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” I mutter and I duck away from him. The familiar motion seems suddenly foreign and unwelcome. “Let’s just go talk to some random person...Steve’s pretty talkative; maybe he’ll show us to Libby and Ana-Lucia, whoever they are...”

Mason looks a little confused at my sudden revulsion to his touch, but he just nods and motions for me to lead the way.

I don’t want to...but, in the end, I will, because it’s what I have to do. The only that makes it easier is knowing that Shannon isn’t doing it. I’m doing it. Anonymous Emily is taking souls. Anonymous Emily is taking lives. Anonymous Emily... I think to myself, just another face in the crowd...
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avatar: Plastic!Winchester Theater by anteka @ LJ; icon by me
sig by AlcoholicPixie

[PsychoCynic]

Any DLM fic is good fic with me!

But, seriously, I like this story. It's a really clever combination of two fantastic shows. And you write the characters pretty well! I can't wait to see Shannon meet Rube and etc.

Great story. Keep it up!

Also, I added you to my friend's list on LJ (I go by TURQUOISETUMULT over there). Hope you don't mind!

[mistojen]

[mistojen]

Crossing the Line


This has to be crossing the line. Has to be. But...Rube and Roxy don’t befriend us and I’d rather put a cigarette out in my vagina than ask Daisy, so...

I knock on the door and it swings open.

“Hi,” I say softly. I’m kind of embarrassed, because I don’t even feel like me anymore, now that I’m dead. I care a lot more now. I care about a lot of things that never would have gotten to me before, and this is one of them.

Mason grins and sweeps his hand in front of himself in a gesture to allow me into his house. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Shan?”

I hate the way he grins. I hate the way he calls me ‘Shan,’ because that’s what Boone called me. Most of all, though...I hate that we haven’t mentioned our kiss on The Island since it happened. I frown at him. His grin fades away.

“They rented out my apartment to some guy, so I had to get out...they found out I was squatting and gave me twenty-four hours to vacate or they’re pressing charges,” I sigh. I don’t take his invitation into the house. “Can I borrow...” I cringe inwardly, “some money to get a moving truck?”

Another smile, this one less annoying, etches itself onto Mason’s face. “Sure, love,” he says, making the sweeping hand motion again, “come on in.”

I don’t move. “And...” I start and stop when I see the smile morph into the s****y grin. He already knows what I’m going to ask him, but he doesn’t say anything. The f***er is going to make me ask it out loud.

“And?”

“CnIstaywthyoufrawhle?” I mutter, looking down.

“Blah blah blah blah, what?” he asks with a chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Can I stay with you for a while?” I ask bitterly, looking up at him now. I raise my eyebrows, challenging him to further tease me. He doesn’t.

“Absolutely,” he says enthusiastically with a wink.



It was really nice of him to help me move all my crap from point A to point B, but Mason’s got a really great way of making me feel s****y for accepting his offer to help. As he sets down my last box in the middle of his living room, Mason clutches at his shoulders and flops, spent, onto the couch. “All right?” he asks, because I’m still standing in the doorway. I can’t decide if I want to curl up and die

you’re already dead, s***-for-brains

or just run away as fast as I can. Moving in with Mason was a new low for me, and I knew it, because, in reality, I don’t plan to stay here until I get on my feet. I plan to stay here until he kicks me squarely in the ass and tells me to get the f*** out. I’m sort of in love with Mason, as much as I hate him, you see.

“I’ll live,” I say reflexively.

“Or not,” he jokes and pats the spot on the couch beside him. When I just look at him through tired eyes, he pauses, mid-pat. “All right, love, what’s the problem? I help you move and I give you a place to stay...and you’re looking at me like I’m just some ass**** guy. What’re you playing at?”

You are just some ass**** guy, Mason. That’s the thing...

“Sorry,” I reply and walk around the maze of my own possessions to get to the couch, dropping down on it beside him.

Another grin plays over his face. “What’s wrong?” He’s teasing again; he knows what’s wrong...I know he does.

“Nothing,” I lie. “I’m just tired; I want to go to bed.”

“Me too,” he says and he looks at me. He’s still grinning, but the grin is wilting. Does he feel bad? “You’re upset with me, but I’m the only one you could count on, eh, love? That it?”

Caught, I nod. “Yep. Yep, Mason, that’s it.”

He waits for me to elaborate, but I don’t. I won’t, either, unless he asks. After a moment’s pause, he does just that.

“Why?”

Sighing, I look over at him and stare for a moment before speaking. “Why did you kiss me?” I ask bluntly.

There’s a pregnant pause between us. Mason looks surprised and embarrassed. I knew it. He’d done it because he knew I’d wanted him to, but not because he wanted to...thus the lack of conversation the topic.

“Mason.”

He’s been looking at me, but in a distracted, glassy-eyed sort of way. When I say his name, it’s like he’s there again, looking at me instead of through me.

“You needed it...” he said softly.

“You’re a d***,” I reply, feeling my eyes sting with the threat of tears. I stand up and walk across the room and out the front door, slamming it behind me. It isn’t until I’m on his porch that I realize my s*** is still inside and I have nowhere else to go.

It doesn’t matter, though, because he throws the door open and looks like he’s about to run after me when he sees that I’m still there.

“Now, wait just a damn minute, Shannon,” he hisses at me.

It scares me a little. There’s not even so much as a glimmer of the grin I hate so much. I’ve never seen Mason angry. Actually...I still haven’t, I realize, because he isn’t angry; he’s hurt.

“I did not pity you,” he spits at me. “I still don’t. Get back in the house.”

“F*** you,” I say reflexively, regretting it the second it falls out of my mouth.

Mason’s eyes are glinting with something I don’t recognize in him. I think for a second that he might start to cry, but he swallows hard, Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat, and just looks at me. “F*** me, then?” he asks and his voice cracks a little. “F*** me, eh? Yeah?” He shakes his head at me and steps forward, grabbing my wrist roughly and yanking it so hard that I utter a cry of pain as he shoves me back into the house.

My eyes are wide, I can tell; I can feel it; and Mason throws the door shut so hard behind him as he steps in after me that it closes with a loud boom, shaking the room so that a clock falls off the wall and the glass shatters into a glittering mess on the hardwood floor.

“You think that just because I’m dead, that I don’t know loss, Shannon? Is that it? Well, if that’s it, then f*** you, love. How about that?” Mason’s voice is deadly calm and there’s a fire in his eyes that I’ve seen only twice in my life. Once, in Boone’s...in Sydney. Once, in Sayid’s, when he was holding my dead body and looking up at Ana-Lucia. I shiver a little.

“Is it? Is that what you think?” Mason shouts at me and I flinch a little, tears stinging my eyes again. This time, they start to fall. “Don’t you f***ing cry!” he yells at me, “don’t you dare f***ing cry, Shannon! Answer me!”

I let out a heaving sob and crumble to the floor in a heap of myself. “I’m sorry...” I sob at him. “And, yeah,” I add, embarrassed for my own stupidity in the matter, “that’s what I thought.” I wipe at my tears hurriedly, because I don’t want Mason to yell at me anymore. I hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. I’d only meant to find out why he’d hurt mine...

“I kissed you, Shannon,” Mason says, and his voice is back to the eerily calm sound it had had just before he’d started yelling, “because you needed it. You needed someone to hold you and you needed someone to kiss you. You needed it to be me, because I was there. Not because you cared about me and not because you wanted me, but because I was there, and it’s the sort of thing that friends do for each other, so I kissed you. But just so you know, I wouldn’t have done it anyway, friend or not, if I hadn’t wanted to.”

The silence that fills the room now is deafening and Mason is standing over me looking down at me. The fire in his eyes is gone. He looks like Mason again. “You wanted to...?” is all I can manage.

“Yeah, Shannon,” he says quietly and his cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink, “I wanted to.”

A leftover tear slips down my cheek and I don’t bother to wipe it away. I’m staring up at Mason and I feel my heart swelling all over again. “I didn’t think you did,” I whisper, “and that’s why I was upset with you...” I admit to him.

Mason rolls his eyes at me a little and smiles slightly, offering me his hand. I take it and he pulls me to my feet. “I don’t think we’re supposed to do this...” he says softly, “but I don’t really know, because I’ve never really tried.”

I’m sure that he’s lying; Daisy is gorgeous and their repertoire at meals has a playful flirtation to it that had me assuming that there was or had been something between them. She’d told me once that there never was and never would be, when I’d casually asked. I believed her, but I’m still pretty sure that he tried with Daisy.

I think he sees the look on my face and interprets it correctly. “I tried in a half-assed manner, Shan; that doesn’t count,” he says with a sheepish grin.

Smiling with raised eyebrows, I nod.

“Anyway, I don’t know if we’re supposed to do this...have...relations,” he says.

“Relations?” I ask sarcastically.

Mason frowns and furrows his brow with frustration. “I really like you, Shannon, all right?” he sighs.

I blush and nod, so unlike my living self, I might add, and I rub my wrist a little. It still sort of hurts where he grabbed me.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, again with the hurt in his eyes. He takes my hand again and looks at my wrist, frowning at the red ring around it. “I’m really sorry...I didn’t mean to...”

“I know you didn’t, Mason,” I say softly and I smile, taking my hand back. “It’s okay. I really am...you know...ready for bed,” I add with a yawn.

“All right, more talk tomorrow then?” he asks, stepping aside to let me further into his home. Scratch that. Our home, more or less...for now, at least.

I nod and smile. “Where do I sleep...?”

Mason shrugs. “Wherever you want...” he says and there’s a hint of suggestion in his tone that I pick up almost instantly.

At first, I mean to joke with him about it and tell him I’ll take the couch, but then my smile falls off and I swallow hard. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to think about the losses in my life...or the loss of my life, and after the day I’ve had, I’m positive that I will as soon as he leaves me for the night. So, looking down at my sandaled feet, I do the only thing I can think of. I ask him if I can sleep with him tonight.

Another pause of deafening silence rings in my ears loudly as he ponders this. For a moment, I think he might joke or make some crude comment in return, because, of course, that’s just Mason’s way, but, he doesn’t. He nods at me. He nods at me, smiles, takes my hand and says, “sure, love. Whatever you want.”

Well, then, all right. I want to sleep in Mason’s bed tonight and I want to sleep in Mason’s arms tonight. So, we head upstairs and he strips down to his underwear, which–and I have to laugh, or I think I might piss myself trying not to–are dark blue briefs with a British flag splashed unceremoniously over Mason’s ass. I end up in the tank top I’ve been wearing all day and my panties. Mason doesn’t say a word. He just crawls into bed and pulls back the covers for me.

Slowly...cautiously, almost...I get into the bed and lay down with my back to Mason. Within seconds of pulling the covers up over myself, I feel his arms around me and his head against my shoulder blades. I can feel the intake of his breath when he sniffs deeply at my hair and nuzzles me gently. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth and I wiggle away from him just enough to roll over to face him.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “I don’t think I could’ve stayed downstairs by myself tonight...”

“I know,” Mason replies. Our eyes meet and there’s a tense moment of whatthefdoI***donow-ness before he kisses me. It isn’t long or passionate, but it’s certainly not platonic, either. “G’night, love. See you in the morning,” he says as he pulls away.

Shifting myself to rest my head on his bare chest and curling up beside him as he wraps his arms comfortably around me, I suddenly feel very safe. Safer, in fact, than I’ve felt in a very long time. Safer, even, than I ever felt with Boone and Sayid, and I wonder if it’s because we’re dead and I know that nothing bad can happen to me.

The truth is, though, I don’t think that it’s because I’m dead that nothing bad can happen to me...I think it’s because Mason’s holding me and he’s not copping a feel or making some joke, and he isn’t being his amusingly crude self. I think it’s because Mason’s holding me and that’s all either of us is asking for.

“Good night, Mason,” I say softly as my eyelids flutter shut and I drift off toward slumber. And thanks again...
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avatar: Plastic!Winchester Theater by anteka @ LJ; icon by me
sig by AlcoholicPixie

[PsychoCynic]

I'm liking this a lot! And, hell, I wish it were me in bed with Mason (or Callum Blue, for that matter!)

I really like Shannon's voice. You write her in a similar way to George but a little more open in her emotions. I think Mason needs some work. At least, he does to me, because I see him as an utter F*CK-UP that can't do anything right. But, here he is, supporting Shannon in every way. I don't think Mason's character is that emotionally stable. However, I DO like it when you make him scream at Shannon at the near end to this chapter. Also, I don't really think he calls women "love" much ... maybe once or twice, but mostly, he says "darling," doesn't he? (*drools over British accent*)

I hope you don't take that feedback too personally. In fact, I think you're a brilliant writer! The way you use the words and language is very professional.

Keep up the good work!

[mistojen]

[mistojen]

The New Reaper

A few weeks after taking Aaron’s soul, reaping had become easier for me. A few months afterward and I was a pro. Rube never sent me back to the Island. The look on my face when I handed him Aaron was enough, I think, for him.

Daisy says that Rube is afraid of me, now. Says that something in me must’ve snapped just right. I don’t know if–-or think that–-that’s true, but she gets a lot of my assignments when I’m in a bad mood–-I get the day off. Sometimes I just sit around our house–-mine and Mason’s, that is–-all day and do nothing, and some days I follow him to his reaps. Maybe I’m crazy, but after Aaron...nothing is hard for me to see; to do. I can go with him and I watch him take souls and I watch the people die. Nothing phases me anymore. It’s like I have no feelings...except when Mason is involved.

He says that I’ve changed, but he still loves me. I’m not really sure I understand what he means by that, but I’m also not really sure that I care. When Mason is holding me or kissing me, I forget about Boone, Sayid...the Island. I forget about everything, and I don’t know what I would do without Mason. I’d say I’d die, but...well, it’s too late for that.



“Time to go, darling,” Mason says and he hands me a post-it. Rube doesn’t even look at me, anymore. He passes me my assignments through Mason or Daisy. Once, through Roxy, but only once. I don’t go to the waffle house anymore.

I take the post-it and look it over. “Okay, let’s go,” I say. I start toward the door, but Mason doesn’t move. “What?”

“I don’t want to go with you, Shannon,” he says. “I always go. You can do it yourself.”

Furrowing my brow I shrug at him. “Okay...” I say. “Well, then I’ll see you later.”

“Shannon?” Mason asks.

I raise my eyebrows at him, prodding him to go on.

“Let’s go back to the Island,” he says.

“What?” I ask, “why?!”

He shrugs a little. “Well...” His eyes don’t meet mine.

“What, Mason?” I ask and I step toward him. I can feel the butterflies beating their wings rapidly against my stomach. “Why?”

“I have an assignment,” he says softly. He looks up at me and into my eyes again and I see what’s behind them.

Shaking my head, I take a step away from him. “No...Mason, please...”

“I thought, maybe...” he says and his voice trails off. He doesn’t like to bring up Sayid. He doesn’t like it when I bring up Sayid, either, because it makes Mason feel second best. He doesn’t understand that I know Sayid and I can’t be together and I’ve moved on...to Mason.

“Is it him?” I ask. My eyes are prickling with tears again. I hate it when this happens. I hate it when I get too close.

“Jarrah,” Mason confirms, “but...I thought you might want to see him once more,” he adds with a solemn nod. His cheeks are pink.

“It’s okay,” I say softly, shaking my head. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to see Sayid die. Just...go do it. Don’t tell me about it, though. Okay?”

“Thing is, Shan,” he says, and I cringe at the use of Boone’s nickname for me, “you don’t have a choice,” he says and holds up another slip of paper. He casts his eyes downward, holding his hand out to me.

I stare at him in awe for a moment, raising an eyebrow. No way. No way am I going back there... Snatching the paper from him I look down at it and crumble it into a ball, angrily, in my fist.

H. Reyes
Church - The Beach.
ETD: 5:30pm

“What time is Sayid?” I ask.

“5:29,” Mason replies quietly.

“Well, I already have an appointment today, Mason,” I say, bringing my hand up to my head and rubbing my temples. “I can’t.”

“The other appointment is in the morning, Shannon. There’s nothing we can do, all right? Let’s just do it and get it over with.”

“Fine,” I say, looking down. “I’ll be back later.”

Mason nods and I leave. I don’t have very long before I need to make it to my first reap, so I get into the car that George left with Mason before she came to take my soul, and I take off toward the college.




“Suicide,” I say listlessly as I flop down on Mason’s couch.

“Shannon, darlin’ is that you?”

I look at Mason with wide eyes that I hope convey to him the whatthef***isshedoinghere?! that’s running through my head when I hear Daisy’s voice from the kitchen.

“Oh, it is!” Daisy says cheerfully, walking into the room with a cup of coffee in her hand. “So should we go, now, then, Mason?” she asks.

“What’s going on?” I ask him, raising my eyebrows.

“Daisy’s got one, too...it’s her last one. This’ll be her last soul and we’ll be getting a replacement...” he says.

“Sayid!?” I ask excitedly.

Mason looks hurt and shakes his head. “No, Shannon, Sayid is my mark, I told you. Daisy’s mark will be the new reaper,” he explains.

“Let’s go!” Daisy says again, “I’m ready, you’re ready, Shannon’s ready...”

“Who?” I ask, turning to Daisy. “Who is it?”

She furrows her brow slightly. “Don’t remember,” she says and reaches into her pocket, looking down at her post-it. “C. Pace...” She shrugs.

“Charlie. I f***ing get Charlie? We’re taking out Sayid, but I f***ing get Charlie?! This is such bullsh**!” I shout. “Let’s go,” I add as a bitter after thought.

“Who’s Sayid?” Daisy asks Mason behind my retreating back.

Mason knows better than to answer her when I’m still within earshot, so he doesn’t, but instead, in a second, they’re right behind me.




Daisy is walking around aimlessly, looking at her watch every two minutes like the f***ing thing is going to just jump to 5:30 if she keeps looking at it enough. She’s such a f***ing idiot.

We’ve gotten here really early, so Mason and I go out to Boone’s grave and, unfortunately, Daisy follows us. One thing I can say for her, however, is that she’s polite enough–-or maybe just disinterested enough–-to leave the two of us to talk in peace.

“What if Sayid was Daisy’s mark, Shannon? What of it?” Mason asks, running a hand over his hair and down his neck.

I’m looking at my feet. I shake my head a little. “I don’t know,” I say, and I’m not lying. I really don’t know what of it.

The thing is...I’ve really grown to like Mason. A lot. I love him, sort of, but it’s not the same, you know, as Sayid. Sayid was the first man I thought I loved that I knew felt the same. Mason, while really fun to be with, gorgeous, and a great all-around guy–-if you don’t count the post-reap looting and the whole drug thing–-wasn’t my first choice. Had I met Mason first, maybe things would be different, but I didn’t, you see, so... ‘what of it?’ indeed.

“What are we doing, Shannon? Is this a game?” Mason asks with a shrug, “because if it is, I’d like to know the rules.”

“Rules?” I ask, a little confused by what he’s just said.

“Are we just having fun, love? It’s quite all right if we are, but, if that’s what’s going on, I’d like to know, because, quite honestly, while I love your work in the bedroom...sleeping with the living is a little more, shall I say...lively.”

Ouch. I’m pretty sure I deserved that, but it still hurt. “I’m not playing a game,” I assure him.

“So you’re not going to run to his arms for the few minutes he has between this life and his next?” Mason asked, raising an eyebrow.

...that option had honestly not occurred to me, but I suppose I could, if I wanted to. Do I want to? I do. I don’t... Yes, I do–it’s my only chance. No, I don’t–I don’t want to hurt Mason and Mason is the one that’ll still be around. Sayid has another first love. He’ll probably go wherever she is, so...

I look into Mason’s eyes and blink slowly. Do I answer him and hope to God that Sayid makes it easy for me, or do I not answer and let him stay upset? I decide to compromise.

“Guide Sayid to crossing over and I’ll explain the finer points of reaping to Charlie,” I suggest.

Mason shakes his head. “What about your mark?”

“Can’t you help Hurley, too?” I ask, exasperated and annoyed that he isn’t simply agreeing with me. Mason is a lot of things, but easy to deal with is not one of them.

Mason looks at me thoughtfully for a moment. “All right, and what if he won’t go without saying goodbye to you once he’s seen you...?”

“How about a hug?” I suggest. I feel like we’re bartering. We sort of are, I think.

Pausing contemplatively, Mason looks down at his feet. When he looks back up, I can see that he’s made up his mind one way or another. “I’ll tell you what,” he says, looking at his watch, “you do what your heart tells you, Shan, and we’ll see what happens.”

Dammit...

Daisy squeals. “Let’s go; it’s almost time!” I guess if I was as alone in the undead world as she is, I would be excited to leave it, too. “You’ll have to show me which one is C. Pace, all right, Shannon, darling? It’ll go faster that way.”

I wave at her dismissively and look at Mason. I nod. “All right...” I say, finally, “deal.”

He stands and, so, I do, too, and we trek out to the beach with Daisy trailing behind.



Hurley is handing Charlie a bottle of water and Sayid is leaning against a crude building, finishing off his own bottle of water. Charlie sucks down the whole bottle and frowns. I see our in.

“The blonde one is Charlie,” I whisper to Daisy and hurry forward. “Hey!” I call out.

Sayid looks up and then back down again. Charlie answers, though. “Oi! Do you have water?” he asks.

Mason is suddenly beside me. “What’s this?” he asks, nodding at the building.

A smile of triumph and pride erupts on Charlie’s face. He steps forward, Hurley directly behind him, and he tells us it’s a church. “I’m Charlie,” he says, ignoring Mason and reaching a hand out toward Daisy. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Daisy looks at her watch nonchalantly and must have decided that it’s close enough to the time.

“Daisy. Daisy Adair,” she says and reaches her hand out and shakes Charlie’s hand. I see the dim light pass over Charlie’s hand as he smiles stupidly at Daisy.

“I’m Emily,” I say to Hurley, reaching over to shake his hand. “Do you guys need more water?”

Hurley shakes my hand and I feel his soul leave him, too. “That’d be great, dude, thanks!” he says.

“Back to work!” Sayid calls out and Mason lifts his hand off Sayid’s shoulder, stepping back. Sayid disappears back into the building and Charlie and Hurly follow.

“Ready?” I ask Mason, and Daisy has gone.

Mason nods just as the church collapses completely. A few people look up and run over, but the thing had been huge; surely there’s no one alive inside. Predictably, Charlie, Sayid, and Hurley are standing together outside it, looking around, confused.

“Oi!” Charlie calls out. “Shannon?!”

Sayid looks over at me quickly and my stomach drops as Mason walks toward them all.

“Shannon...?”

I nod and follow Mason to the group.

Sayid shakes his head and narrows his eyes accusingly. “Shannon is dead.”

“Welcome to my world, Sayid,” I say with a roll of my eyes, gesturing toward the collapsed church.

“Shannon! I get to stick around?!” Charlie asks, running up to me, shoving Sayid out of the way.

Mason is standing behind Sayid, now, watching me. Watching with that gleam in his eyes. I turn away from Sayid and look at Charlie. “It’s a lot worse than it sounds,” I say softly. “You’re going to be a Grim Reaper. You’re sort of...undead...”

“We get to be together again...?” Sayid asks and Mason rests his hand on Sayid’s shoulder, causing Sayid to turn his head from me quickly. “Who are you?”

“I’m Mason; I’m with her. You have to cross over now, so if you’d be so kind as to...erm, do so...then we shall be on our way.” It’s the least polite I’ve ever heard Mason be to a soul...

“But Charlie said–”

“Charlie is our new reaper. He stays," Mason replies with an air of annoyance.

Hurley waves goodbye shouting over his shoulder a faint, “later dudes!” and disappears into the light. Sayid’s light hasn’t come, yet...and I have a sinking feeling that we have a straggler on our hands.

“Off with you, then...” Mason says a tad bitterly, but Sayid is looking at me again.

“It seems that even in death, we are alone...” Sayid says to me softly with a sad smile that his eyes betray. He did miss me...

My eyes flicker from Sayid to Mason and back again. I return the half-hearted smile. I’m actually a little surprised to see that I don’t feel my heart swelling from Sayid saying that, essentially, he missed me as I get when I hear Mason compliment me. “There will be Nadia...” I offer, remembering that he once told me that he believed her dead. I also know that she was his first love. I feel like he’d end up with her, anyway.

Sayid nods. His light approaches as if on cue at the mention of Nadia. It breaks my heart a little, but not much, when he turns away from me with a smile and walks into his final destination.

“Do I get one of those?” Charlie asks, but I hardly hear him as I look into Mason’s smiling eyes.

“No,” I reply without removing myself from the locked gaze I share with Mason, “you come with us.” Finally I look up at Charlie. “Let’s go. Rube explains it all the best; we’ll take you to him.”

“Yeah, all right, then, let’s go,” Charlie says with a grin.

Mason takes my hand and we leave the beach to go back home, Charlie following us.

“Hey, where’s he going to live...?” I ask Mason as we make our way off the Island.

Charlie stops walking; I can hear the lack of his steps behind us from the lack of the crunching leaves under his feet. “I have nowhere to live...?” he asks stupidly.

I look over at Mason and raise my eyebrows.

“You can live in Daisy’s old house, for all I care...we’ll figure something out,” Mason says.

“Why don’t I get Daisy’s place?” I snap.

Charlie gives us an amused look. “You sound like you’re married.”

Mason and I both whip our heads around to look at him and he holds his hands up defensively.

With a smile on his face and a very little bounce in his step, Mason turns back around. “Let’s go home. Welcome to our world, by the way, Charlie.”

“Thanks...I think...” Charlie says.

And with that, we’re well on our way home and Mason and I have survived what we thought would be our biggest challenge. I’m proud of us. Now I know we’re gonna be okay.
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avatar: Plastic!Winchester Theater by anteka @ LJ; icon by me
sig by AlcoholicPixie

[PsychoCynic]

Aww, I'm sad to see Aaron and Daisy go. Daisy grew on me immensely in the show and I would've liked if we saw more of her. And my goodness, Claire really is a bad mother.

I love how you managed to get your 3 favorite characters together. Charlie/Mason should be VERY interesting. They're so alike in so many ways! Also, I like the way you wrote Sayid's farewell. "Even in death we're alone" was brilliant - you took the words right out of J.J. Abram's mouth, I'm sure. I liked how it was bittersweet.

All in all, great work. Looking forward to more since my muse for vidding, writing, and fanart-making is completely dead. (I suck!)

[mistojen]

[mistojen]

Jealousy

“It was the weirdest thing, Shannon!”

“I know, Charlie,” I sigh.

“The tingling in my hand...”

“I know, Charlie.” Charlie hasn’t stopped talking about his first reap since I arrived home an hour ago. I don’t mind, because it means I don’t have to talk about Mason and I; because it’s still new, I don’t know if I can keep it to myself and Rube would be furious...

“...and then the car stalled right there on the tracks and her seatbelt stuck, so she couldn’t get out...and then, BAM!” Charlie shouts, clapping a closed fist into an open hand. “Biggest bloody mess I ever saw,” he adds proudly.

I sink down onto the couch beside him and grin at him. Charlie really can be cute, sometimes... “How did you reap her?” I ask.

“Oh, right! Well,” he says, “Rube and Roxy stop her car and tell her it was a routine stop for my training purposes and when I asked her for her license and registration, I did it when she handed them to me. It was all very slick,” he finishes, puffing out his chest.

I can’t help but giggle at him a little bit. “Congratulations, then, Charlie, on a ‘very slick’ reap,” I reply.

“Thanks,” he says and stretches his arms high in the air, dropping them down on the back of the couch, one of them behind me. He grins and raises his eyebrows. “Shouldn’t we celebrate, Shannon?”

I take his hand in mine and move his arm off the back of the couch, dropping it in his lap heavily. “I didn’t get to celebrate my first reap, so...no.”

With a grimace, Charlie shrugs. “Who was your first reap, Shannon? Someone on the Island?”

“Yeah,” I say softly. “The girl that killed me.”

“Ana-Lucia? Impressively ironic,” Charlie replies with a roll of his eyes. “Are we really never going to shag, Shannon?” he asks, eyes pleading and bottom lip protruding slightly.

I smile sarcastically and shake my head. “We really never are, Charlie.”

“F***ing bollocks,” he mutters and stands. “Well, now...I need to get money.”

Charlie is also rather hopeless, if you ask me. “Indeed you do.”

“How do you pay for things?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You know...I never really thought about it, to tell you the truth. Mason always foots the bill for me...but now that I think about it, I don’t think Mason even has a job... I scratch my head and frown. “I don’t; Mason does.”

“Where does he work? Maybe I can get a job with him...” Charlie suggests.

I shrug. “Ask him. I have no idea.”

“Right, then. I will,” says Charlie defiantly, as if daring me to change my mind. What do I care if he asks Mason how he gets his money and wants to see if Mason will share the wealth? Really, I don’t.



A few days later, Charlie asks Mason. What Mason says to him doesn’t really surprise me, but the look of longing nostalgia on Charlie’s face does.

“Have you, er...got any, then...?” Charlie asks Mason in an undertone as Kiffany walks away from the table to fill our orders.

Mason laughs. “Are you kidding? Loads, mate. You want?”

“I thought you quit,” I point out to Charlie. He waves me off. “No, seriously...”

“Seriously, it’s none of your bloody business, so butt out of it, Shannon,” Charlie spits at me.

I shrug and shrink back a little, stunned and, truthfully, a little bit hurt. “Do what you want, Charlie.”

“That’s bloody well right, and I will,” Charlie replies defiantly.

Mason looks back and forth between us, his expression slightly unreadable, before he says to me, “What do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“You do,” Charlie shoots back at me. “But you shouldn’t, because it’s not your life; it’s mine.”

“You’re not even alive, Charlie,” I reply angrily, my brow furrowed with frustration.

Mason looks offended. “Oi, let him do what he wants, Shannon. Why do you care, anyway?”

“I don’t!” I shout at him and stand. “Forget it.” I get out of the booth and sit up at the bar, waiting for Kiffany to give me my breakfast.

I eat alone. I stare daggers at Mason and Charlie. To tell you the truth, I don’t even really know why I’m mad. I really don’t care if Charlie wants to do drugs again and if Mason is the one who helps him get reacquainted with them. So, I think the only reason that I could possibly be upset is that Mason seemed hurt at the thought that I did.

There are a few things that I hate about Mason. I hate that he sometimes calls me ‘Shan,’ for example, and I hate the way he talks about Daisy and George...especially since they’ve gone and they’re never coming back. I hate that he’s so f***ing silly all the time and it’s infuriating–-I mean...we’re taking souls for a living and that’s serious business. I hate those God awful fingerless gloves he wears, and I hate even more that there’s more than one pair. I hate the way he dresses and the way he smells–-I’m pretty sure he doesn’t bother with showering very often. Most of all, though, I hate that he’s insecure about himself, because, in spite of all those things...he’s pretty damn near perfect in my eyes.

“Please tell me he isn’t like that one...”

I look up, broken from my train of thoughts, at Kiffany, who has leaned over the counter toward me.

“Like Mason, you mean?” I ask, hiding the fact that I’m offended.

“Like the British one,” Kiffany says. “Please tell me he isn’t like that one. Always stealing things and being rude...” she pauses. “I kicked him out of here once. He stole a tip off a table after stealing a half-eaten piece of steak, instead of paying for his own.”

I look over at Mason and Charlie and frown. “They’re both British,” I sigh. “He wasn’t,” I say, “but I think...he will be.”

Before Kiffany can answer me, I put a borrowed five dollar bill on the counter and leave the waffle house. I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand Kiffany putting Mason down and I can’t stand the thought of my own inner destructive thoughts.

I try to start the car, but I realize, after I’m already in it, that I don’t have the keys; I left them on the table. Well, that’s fine, Charlie can drive it home. Wasn’t my car, anyway.

The more I think, the angrier I get and the angrier I get, the faster I walk, until, once again, unplanned, I find myself standing in front of Mason’s house. I guess I got so used to it being home that...it is.

If I was alive, I’d chalk it up to PMS, because I don’t know why I’m angry right now. I just know that I am. Everything is rushing at me at a thousand miles an hour. Every time he looked at Daisy with that glimmer in his eye that made me so jealous. Every time he talked about George like she was a goddess. Every time he winced at the mere thought of Sayid. Even though it’s all in the past, it’s punching me in the gut right now. I can feel hot tears running down my face and my body shuddering with sobs that I can’t hear. I know that I’ve crumpled onto his porch steps, but I can’t make myself move.

Was Mason really like that? Did he steal and lie? Was he really just some junkie that did whatever it was he did to get what he wanted and needed...and if so, what did he want with me? Was it because Daisy never bothered to reciprocate those looks he gave her, or was it because George left him behind with someone else? Mason doesn’t really want me; he just wants someone and here I am, just waiting for another person to take me into his arms and tell me he cares about me, even if he doesn’t. Just like Boone. Just like Sayid.

Maybe that’s what’s got me so upset. He’s nothing new...he’s just another man that puts up with me because I’m pretty, or because I have t*ts and a vagina and I’m more than willing to let them be ravaged. Or...because I’m weak...

“What was that all about...?”

I look up and Mason is standing in front of me. His angered face melts into one of concern and it makes me sob out loud.

“Why are you crying?”

“I don’t know...” I gasp, wiping at my tears and standing up. “I have to go.”

When I start to walk past him, he pulls me back and into his arms. “Let go...” I breathe.

Mason only holds me tighter and strokes my hair. “What’s the matter, darling?” He slowly lifts my chin upward with two fingers until he’s forcing me to look him in the eye.

“Why do you want me, Mason?”

He looks confused. I guess that’s a good thing... “Sorry...?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Why do you like me, Mason?” I ask him again.

“Because,” Mason says slowly, pausing for a moment before continuing, “you are so beautiful to look at...”

I close my eyes and shake my head. “That’s all.”

“It isn’t,” Mason says, and the next thing I know, we’re in the house and I don’t really know how we got there. I’m sure that Mason moved us, but I’m so absorbed in him, I don’t have a clue. We could’ve been here for a while, for all I know. “That isn’t it at all, Shan.”

“Shannon.”

“Shannon,” he corrects himself, although I can tell he’s not quite sure why. “But I can’t really explain it.”

I start to roll my eyes at him, but that’s when he turns the tables on me. “Why do you like me?”

Caught in my own hypocrisy, I sigh.

“That’s what I thought,” Mason says. “You want to tell me what this is all about, now?” he asks. He guides me down onto the couch and sits down beside me, looking at me sadly.

“I don’t know,” I grumble and look up at him. “I’m sorry.” I hate saying those two words, even when I mean them...especially when I mean them, actually.

“I’m sorry, too.”

I can’t help but laugh a little. “You don’t even know why you’re sorry, Mason, do you?” I ask. I’m not angry, I’m amused.

A smirk forms on Mason’s face and he shrugs, shaking his head. “F***ed if I know,” he admits, “but I want this to be better. I want us to be better.”

“We’re fine,” I say softly.

“Is it about the drugs?” Mason asks, “I won’t give him any, I swear it.”

“No,” I reply, “it’s not about the drugs. It’s about you getting so jealous all the time, I think. I sit here and I listen to you sing George and Daisy’s praises all the time and I ignore the urge to roll my eyes or cry. But, it’s like...every time I mentioned Sayid, even in passing, you’d get all bent out of shape...and then today...when I showed an ounce of concern about Charlie, you get upset. It’s not attractive, Mason. It’s annoying.”

Mason looks at me like he’s seen a ghost. I guess he sort of has, hasn’t he?

“Sorry,” he says when he sees the look of confusion on my face. “‘It’s not attractive, Mason. It’s annoying,’ you said, and...” he pauses and I’m pretty sure he’s trying to figure out how to word what he’s about to say delicately. “I’ve heard it before,” he finally says softly.

“From Daisy,” I say more than ask.

Mason looks down.

“Right,” I whisper. “I have to go, okay? We’ll talk later?” I feel my anger flaring up again inside me. After everything I’d just said, he still mentions Daisy. Unf***ingbelievable.

He frowns, but he kisses me and nods. I turn from him when he lets me go and I walk back outside and straight into the rain, not minding the way it pricks my exposed skin like pins and needles. I’m going back to my house and I know that Charlie’s going to start a fight with me, but right now I’m so mad at Mason that anything Charlie has to dish I’m pretty sure I can take. F*** that...you know what I’m going to do?

F*** Charlie.

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen; boys and girls. I’m going to f*** Charlie and then maybe Mason will have a reason to be jealous and he won’t jump to that annoyingly pained expression he gets on his face every time another man’s name comes out of my mouth.

Yeah. F*** Charlie. That’ll teach him...
_________________
avatar: Plastic!Winchester Theater by anteka @ LJ; icon by me
sig by AlcoholicPixie

[PsychoCynic]

My oh my!

You know, Shannon's decision at the end, as sick and spiteful and demented as its motives are, is not at all out of character for Shannon. lol. Nice job with pulling that off.

And I found it funny when Shannon was questioning Mason about why he liked her because I wrote a fic a year ago about Mason/Daisy in a similar situation. Shannon and Daisy really are alike, it seems. (http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2632423/1/)

I loved Kiffany thing too! I remember that episode where Mason was kicked out of Der Waffle Haus.

Also noticed the reference to Mason's line to Daisy ["you're so beautiful to look at"]. I'm almost reminded of the way Sawyer repeats his lines in all his cons. It's almost as if Mason is so confused with loving women that he almost makes it into a game because he doesn't know what else to do.

Anyway, keep up the good work!
_________________

[mistojen]

[mistojen]

There Is Always Need


When I walk into the house, Charlie is sitting on the couch staring down at his hands in his lap. He seems to be in some deep thought or something, but he looks up at me quickly when I slam the door shut. Immediately, he opens his mouth to say something but his jaw snaps back shut. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling that he can sense what I’m up to just by looking into my eyes.

“Shannon...?”

I don’t answer him. Instead, I walk up to him and sink onto the couch beside him. I just stare. Do I really want to do this? Is...God, is having sex with Charlie worth it...? Somehow, I don’t think so, but I’ve made up my mind already.

“You don’t look so good, love...” he mutters, furrowing his brow.

I shift my pupils back and forth, studying him. For a moment, a silence falls between us and we just look at each other. Charlie’s clearly confused and I’m clearly focused. This is going to hit them both below the belt...Charlie, quite literally. I’m risking everything by making this decision.

There’s a fifty percent chance that Mason will get the hint and he’ll grow the f*** up. We never said that there was an ‘us,’ so I’m technically not breaking any rules. Charlie gets to f*** me, I get to give Mason an actual reason to be jealous, and Mason learns a lesson. Everybody wins.

There’s also a fifty percent chance that Mason just decides that I’m not worth the trouble. We may never have verbally announced to each other that we want to be together, but the silent understanding was there. Charlie gets hurt when he finds out that I used him, I have to have sex with Charlie, and Mason gets hurt because I’ve broken an unspoken rule. Everybody loses.

So...what do I do? This was a much better idea in my head on the way home, but now that I’m face to face with Charlie, it doesn’t seem so great.

Suddenly, I feel Charlie’s arms around me. He pulls me close and guides my head to rest on his shoulder. He’s stroking my hair and it occurs to me that by doing what he’s doing, he’s not only making me feel like slime for even thinking about what I was thinking about doing...he’s also getting soaked, because my whole body is sopping wet and my clothes are still dripping from the rain. Charlie doesn’t seem to notice, nor does he seem to mind. All that seems to matter to Charlie right now is that something is wrong with me and he wants to fix it.

...like he wanted to fix it when Claire lost her memory. Like he wanted to fix it when Claire’s baby

(Aaron. One of you killed Aaron, didn’t you?)

was kidnapped. Like he wanted to fix it when Jack got stuck in the caves...like when I couldn’t catch a fish. Charlie will always need something to fix...and Mason will always need someone to love. Who am I to f*** up the system?

A lump appears in my throat suddenly, and before I can help it, I’ve started to cry. I wrap my arms around Charlie and slump into his embrace. I need this just as much as Charlie does. Everything hurts right now.

“Shh...it’s okay, love...” Charlie whispers, resting his chin on the top of my head. “It’s okay, Shannon.”

“What’s happening to me, Charlie...?” I sob. I don’t know why I ask him this particular question, because I’m more than sure he can’t answer it. I guess I’m hoping he’ll have the right thing to say.

Charlie gives me a gentle squeeze and pulls back from me to look at my face. “Everything is changing, I suspect,” he whispers.

“I never cared about anyone before I died,” I gasp. I mean it, too, in a way. I had feelings for people, but I never cared about anyone other than myself. I’m ashamed to admit it, but it’s the truth.

A little smile appears on Charlie’s face and he cups my jaw in one of his hands. “You know what, Shannon?” he asks, pausing thoughtfully as his smile starts to fade away, “I never did, either...”

Looking at Charlie, I’m confused. When I furrow my brow, a tear slips out of my eye and slides down my cheek. Charlie swipes his thumb up and wipes it away for me. “But, Claire and the baby...” I object.

Charlie smiles at me again, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He shakes his head. “You know, it’s weird...that’s what I was thinking about when you came in. I didn’t love them. I loved the idea of them, I think. I loved being needed. I cared about being needed.”

Then something suddenly occurs to me. There is a reason why I was so upset that Mason was going to give Charlie the drugs. I realize I wasn’t angry with Mason because of his insecurity, so much as I was that he was going to impair Charlie. They were right. I did care what Charlie did, because, I realized...I need him.

I need Charlie the way that Charlie needs me to and I need Mason to love me the way that he needs to.

I need Charlie to fix me.

I need Mason to love me.

Apparently, even after death, everybody still needs something...everybody still needs someone.

“All right, Shannon...?” Charlie asks.

I nod. “I think I just figured something out,” I say softly.

“What’s that?” he asks, letting go of me and looking into my eyes.

Before I answer him, I lean forward and press my lips to his very briefly. When I sit back, I gently stroke his stubbly face and smile at the surprise and confusion in his eyes. “Everything’s changing, I suspect. Thank you,” I whisper.

“Blimey,” Charlie breathes, reaching up with one hand and touching his fingers to his lips, “what for?”

“Needing to be needed.”

I wipe the new tears from my eyes and stand up.

“Shannon, what...?”

Looking down at Charlie, I shrug. “Please don’t start doing drugs again, Charlie,” I say softly, “I need you.”

Before he can answer, I turn away again and walk out of the room. I’m going to take a nap. All of these realizations are exhausting me.

I strip out of my wet clothes and pull on a tank top and a pair of shorts before falling lazily into my bed, curling my body up against a pillow turned vertical and cuddling into it.

“Shannon...?” Charlie’s voice asks from the doorway. I guess I forgot to close the door. I choose not to answer him, because I need to sleep. I wait to hear if he leaves, but instead, I hear him walk uninvited into my bedroom and then I feel him crawl into the bed with me. His arms slip gently around me and he snuggles up behind me, holding me close. I want to tell him to get out, but I suddenly need him there, so I let myself start to drift off, anyway.

I feel Charlie’s nose nuzzle the back of my neck and then he pulls the comforter up over both of us. His breath is hot, but soothing, on my skin and my eyelids flutter a little with relaxation. Charlie lets out a quiet yawn and relaxes against me. “I need you, too, Shannon,” he whispers, and that’s the last thing I hear before I fall asleep.
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avatar: Plastic!Winchester Theater by anteka @ LJ; icon by me
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