The Necktie

Note: This is an expansion of a deleted scene from Season One.

Sayid Jarrah was not an anxious man. He was forcibly calm, impeccably collected. And yet, at the present moment, he was unexpectedly distressed. It had just occurred to him that, while he had taken the time to purchase a suit to wear when he finally met Nadia after seven years, he didn’t have a tie.

It was a very simple thing, a tie. It was a mere social construct that little doubt meant nothing to Nadia. And yet it was easier to think the tie important than to consider that, in a day or two, he might be face to face with a woman who no longer loved him. That is, if she had ever loved him. How much of his memory was history, and how much was fantasy?

He would not ask himself that now. He would find a tie. He must find a tie. The tie was of the utmost consequence; its importance dwarfed all other thoughts. But he did not have much time, and he could not be weighed down in his quest. He dropped his carry-on in an empty chair. “Will you watch my bag?” he asked.

He saw only her legs. He did not see her face. Her legs were arresting enough, but his eyes lingered on them only a moment—his mind was focused on the tie.

It was a foolish thing, leaving his bag with a stranger. The airport intercom kept playing its cyclical warning: “Do not leave your bags unattended.” Oh, he would act appropriately offended when airport security later dragged him in for questioning, but he was sensible enough to know it had been foolish. His mind, however, was not presently inclined toward good sense. His mind was intent upon the tie. He did not even notice the indifferent tone of the woman when she answered. He left the bag and hurried on.