halfdutch (halfdutch) wrote,
halfdutch
halfdutch

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Unfinished (PG, gen)

Title: Unfinished
Rating: PG
Characters: Shannon, Sawyer
Summary: Shannon does the crossword puzzle in pen
Note: Written for Challenge #49, "Back to the Beginning" at lostfichallenge. This would be pre-"Confidence Man." Partly inspired by this lovely icon by isis2015.



Shannon does the crossword puzzle in pen. It’s one of the pens Boone found that first day, when he was trying to play hero and impress the doctor. Jack hadn’t even needed any of them, just sent Boone on a fool’s errand to get him out of his way. Shannon liked Jack already.

Boone had grabbed up all the pens and Sawyer had grabbed up everything else and somehow Shannon had snagged this bit of newspaper with a crossword puzzle. Someone had already filled in a few words, randomly, in pencil. Someone who clearly wasn’t confident enough to use a pen. Whoever that was, they were probably dead now, fallen in the jungle or ocean or one of the corpses rotting in the hulk of plane sitting on the beach.

But she’s far enough up the beach that she can’t see the wreckage. All she sees is ocean and beach, and, if she turns around, endless, dense jungle.

She sits with her legs drawn up, using them as a hard surface to write on. She has to keep shifting the paper as she writes. One of the clues is “Finn’s pal,” six letters. She smiles as she carefully jots down “Sawyer.” It crosses her mind to show him the puzzle, but what would be the point? He’d just take it as a come-on. And he’s probably long since stopped seeing the humor in having a name in common with a famous character.

God knows she hated it when kids would tease her with that annoying song about someone’s damn dog who ran away. Shannon is gone, I heard, she’s drifted out to sea.

She’s ended up just like that stupid dog, lost at sea. Wasn’t there even a lyric about the dog finding its own island? She could ask the guy who keeps telling her he’s a rock star, he might know. She wonders when the plane crash makes the news if the boys who used to taunt her with the song will remember her, remember the song.

The puzzle is almost finished. She knows the rest of the answers, but she doesn’t want to fill them in. She doesn’t know what she’s going to do once the puzzle is done. It’s not like there’s an endless supply here.

She stares at it for a few more minutes, then puts it down, leaving two or three clues unanswered. Boone will think she wasn’t smart enough to finish it. She doesn’t care what Boone thinks.

She folds the paper over. On the other side, there’s some celebrity gossip, a bridge column, and her horoscope. She decides to save it for tomorrow.

She walks back up the beach, back to what counts as civilization around here.

Everyone is bustling around, except for Sawyer, who half-lying, half-sitting, legs sprawled out, like he’s at a park on his lunch hour. He’s reading, some battered-looking paperback. He glances up and nods to her as she passes.

She echoes his nod without thinking, but he’s already turned his attention back to the book. Jerk. She just knows he’s not going to share, not without some kind of ridiculous trade. The puzzle isn’t worth anything, not nearly finished. Maybe she shouldn’t have done it in pen after all.

Tags: lost_fic, lost_fic_s1
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