Author Note: Just know that I am NOT a fan of Boone/Shannon. I am a slasher, as you see later on in the fic. Hope you enjoy the fic. :) It’s a little AU right at the end, but nothing too major. Just what should’ve happened, lol. XD

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Boone always had this feeling that he was replaceable, that he could be tossed aside, that he was only a surrogate for something better. He was a place-filler, someone who could take the place of a much needed object until the real person, the one who fit the requirements in just the right sense, came along.

In a way, it perfectly described his relationship with Shannon.

Shannon was a bitch, that much had been established since Boone had known her when they were kids. He could see past her girlish personality and ditzy laughs to the mean girl within. She was cold hearted and harsh. She would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. Boone blamed her father.

Of course, Boone didn’t fancy himself to be much different. He was useless, too. But then, weren’t replacements supposed to be useless? Yet his entire life, he felt that, although he was useless coming from such a well-off family, he could do more than Shannon ever could.

Then came the time when everything spiraled out of control. At his sixteenth birthday, Shannon came down wearing a bikini top and shorts. Boone’s birthday was in the summer and they were going to the beach. When Boone saw her, with her perfect pale skin and her smooth legs, he felt… squishy, odd, inside. At the beach he found it hard to talk to her because his tongue was swollen when she came near him. Even though she had her boyfriend, a muscle builder named Todd who only looked tough but was, in actuality, the world’s biggest pansy and then some, Boone couldn’t help staring.

This staring turned into an obsession. He found himself staring all the time, constantly, at her cleavage or her legs, the folds in her jeans, the strands of her hair. He was entranced. She had really pretty hands, slender and long with manicured nails.

He eventually told her, Boone did, about his love for her, and she responded. That night, Boone woke up entangled in her sheets. Her bathroom light was on and he could hear her crying. What was worse was the fact that his clothes hung on every ledge. He gathered them quietly and left.

Then she went to Sydney, without so much as a note to him, and called him out of the blue while he was with Stephanie, his girlfriend of two years. She sounded desperate and Boone got worried, and when he got there, the land of kicking animals, he found her fine.

His entire world crumbled. She had forgotten. Or maybe she hadn’t, but she certainly acted like nothing had happened. And Boone got worried again. Worried that her new boyfriend hurt her. Boone had told her a thousand times that if she chose him, he would never hurt her, he would dote on her day and night, give her what she wanted when she wanted it, and would devote entire weeks to telling her how much he loved her. He thought girls liked that sentimental crap. Or maybe it was just Boone who liked it, he didn’t know. And when she left that piece of shit, she came crawling back to Boone. It was then that Boone realized he was nothing more than a surrogate boyfriend.

When the plane crashed, Boone became even more of a spot, a speck, in existence. He didn’t do anything great. He moved a couple of bags around and eyed the others with a glance that said, “Tell me I’m worth something.” But no one ever told him anything more than what to do and how to do it.

He wished he could be like Jack. Jack was someone he looked up to. Jack was big and strong and reliable. He was a hero, the go-to guy, the one everyone simply adored.

And then… there was Boone.

What good was Boone on this place, anyway? What had Boone ever done that was worthy of noting? He could name the time when he helped move those bags and the times he went with Locke to hunt boar, or what little boar there was, but other than that, he was the same as Shannon: useless.

Boone found himself staring again. Not at Shannon, because what good was Shannon when she was with Sayid? None, that’s how good. No, he found himself staring at someone else. Someone big. Someone strong. Someone dependable. He found himself gawping like a fool at Jack. And boy, did he gawp.

Boone wasn’t one for guys. Hell, he’d never even questioned his sexuality as a teen, but being on this island turned him back to being a teenager, when he didn’t know what was right and wrong properly, when his existence had been royally fucked. He hadn’t exactly been a normal teenager. Sure, he had pictures of girls on his wall, posters from the latest “wicked” action movies, some band merchandise and porno mags hidden under his bed, but when it comes down to it, most teenage boys don’t fuck their stepsisters.

But this island, it changed people. Boone was hardly an exception. Before even boarding that plane, if someone had told him, “You see the guy with the suit, the one who looks awfully depressed? Yeah, in about two weeks, you’ll be wanting him” he would have scoffed in a snobbish fashion. But now he couldn’t help it. He wanted Jack, he wanted Jack more than he’d ever wanted anyone, even Shannon. He wanted to feel Jack hold him, to have Jack kiss him. Oh, his thoughts took him many places, but none of them had ever taken him to such a warming place as Jack’s imaginary arms.

When Boone and Locke went to the beach craft plane tangled in the canopy, Boone was certain that he would do something beneficial for the group. Even though his heart pounded with fear as the creaks of the plane that insinuated a disconcerting threat of a massive fall, he still reached for the radio. He hoped and prayed that he could make it out alive and get a rescue plane, and then he would be the hero, and Jack would like him. And Jack would maybe even love him.

Then the plane began to plummet, and the only thoughts in Boone’s head were questions. Why hadn’t he told Jack? Why hadn’t he kissed him? What if he dies? Jack will never know if he dies; will Jack like him enough to try to keep him alive? The plane hit the ground and all that Boone was left with was blood and pain and his thoughts. He saw blinding white, the sky between the canopies, but he swore he saw Heaven too.

When Locke got him back to camp, Boone was unconscious, but awoke upon Jack’s call. It hurt to talk. If it hadn’t hurt, he would have called for Jack and told him everything. Jack promised him that he wouldn’t die, but Boone knew that it was a promise that could not be kept. He knew he was going to die, because everything hurt and the blood wouldn’t stop flowing.

Jack donated blood to Boone and as he went through that transfusion, getting paler and paler, Boone only felt blissfully happy that Jack cared for him. Even though he knew death was coming on swift and black wings for him, it gave him a tiny amount of hope to think that Jack wasn’t willing to let go.

Jack proposed that they amputate Boone’s leg. Boone wasn’t awake for the decision, but as tears spilled down Jack’s cheeks, he awoke and ordered Jack to wait in his hoarse voice. Jack paused and looked at Boone. It was the hardest thing to ask such a caring guy to just let him die, because Boone knew, somehow, that Jack did care for him. In fact, Boone knew that Jack loved him. This knowing of Jack’s love sent Boone into euphoria, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary when Jack was holding his hand. And then Jack sent Michael away and kissed him.

Boone had never been so happy.

Shortly after, Boone found it unnecessary to live with the pain. He tried to relay a message to Shannon via Jack, but couldn’t make the words out in time. The last thing he saw was an angel, and he could’ve sworn it looked like Jack.

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A/N: Hope you liked it. I do believe the end sounds a bit rough but I have to go to bed and I wanted to finish this quickly. ;3 Reviews are my sustenance!

Love, Rachel