TITLE: Hold Me
SUMMARY: Sayid's fears about his relationship with Shannon are brought to light when Shannon comes to him drunk. Companion to Rescue Me.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters from Lost and am not making a profit. If they were mine, then there would be more Shayid moments.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the story Rescue Me told from Sayid's point of view.

Part Two

Sayid had been sitting in his darkened hotel room for hours now. He had grown tired sitting outside, and since he never saw Shannon leave, he was worried about her, especially in her drunken state. He had been surprised to find her sound asleep on his bed. She looked so beautiful that he could hardly believe that a while ago she was saying such horrible things. He had gently picked her up and moved her so she looked more comfortable. He had covered her up, and made sure she was okay, before moving to the seat that he was still in.

He had been reflecting on her questions about Nadia and while at first they had simply hurt, he was beginning to understand them. He had been wrong to think that she understood why he needed the separate rooms, why he needed to see that she really wanted him. He had hurt her, and in turn she had to hurt him. Or maybe in her drunken state she really believed it. He had to wonder if anyone had ever told her no before, and if that had started her thoughts about Nadia. He wished she would wake up so they could talk. Hopefully, everything would quickly be resolved.

He held his breath as she finally stirred. He watched her closely as she opened her eyes, and shut them again quickly. Even in the darkness, he could see her peek under the covers and was confused. What was she doing? Was she looking for something? She sat up slowly, and her body tensed. He continued watching her as she pulled the sheets up to her chest and moved to the other side of the bed. He could tell that she was frightened and didn't know it was him watching over her. At least that was his hope. He didn't even want to think about the possibility that she was afraid of him.

"It's all right, Shannon."

Her body trembled as she sighed. Sayid closed his eyes for a moment, wishing Shannon would sleep again. He wasn't sure he was ready for the conversation that would inevitably happen.

Shannon crinkled her nose as she looked around. "How did I get here?"

Sayid sank down on the edge of the bed, but made no move to touch her. "You don't remember?"

He wasn't sure how that made him feel. In one way, he was relieved; he didn't want to talk to her about what had happened. Yet he needed to. He wasn't sure what to do. Should he bring it up, and cause her more pain, or simply ignore it?

"You let yourself in last night," Sayid began. "You woke me up and," he hesitated, "we talked and then you fell asleep on the bed. I placed you under the covers."

He couldn't do it, he couldn't tell her what she had said, what she had accused him of. She looked so vulnerable with the covers still under her chin. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her it was all going to be okay.

"What did we talk about?"

He ran his hand through his hair. "It is not important."

"Drunken slut or drunken bitch?" she asked suddenly.

"What?" he asked, taken aback.

"Boone used to tell me that I was either a slut or a bitch when drunk." She frowned. "Although he also told me that when I was sober. I'd like to know which I was so I can apologize."

He couldn't believe Boone would have said those things to her. He didn't understand how Boone could claim to love her, yet hurt her so deeply.

"That's not necessary. I know that was not you last night."

It was the truth, he had realized it as he watched her sleep. She had been drunk and as she was proving now she didn't know what she had been saying. It had simply brought to the surface issues he now realized they needed to discuss, but that could wait.

She moved to get comfortable, but groaned.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.

"My head hurts," she whined. "And I feel sick."

Sayid walked over to where the trashcan sat, and brought it over to the bed. He didn't want her to get sick on him. Then he moved so that he was lying in the bed next to her. He motioned for her to come to him. She sluggishly moved to rest her head against his chest. He began to rub her forehead gently. She sighed against him as she snuggled closer. He had missed holding her close like this. He wished he knew why she had gotten so drunk last night. Although even as he questioned it, he knew, her insecurities hadn't been helped by his actions.

"Shannon, do you know that I love you?" he asked softly.

"I know that."

He sighed as he pulled her closer to him. Maybe he had been wrong, maybe she did know, but he still wished he could understand her better.

"This is nice," she said. "The lying in your arms part, not the hangover." She paused. "I've missed you."

"We see each other every day."

"But it's not like on the island. We were always together, and it doesn't feel right being apart now. I know things aren't going to be the same here."

He knew what she meant, it was different. But he had thought it would help, he believed that they needed to separate just a little to see if it could last, but now he realized, as he held her in his arms, that he had been wrong. Being apart would be their destruction.

"It will be harder here, but I think--" He paused, then continued, correcting himself, "--I know we will be okay." He continued to massage her forehead. He hoped that he was making her feel better.

"I know you said it wasn't necessary, but I'm sorry. I know it must have been really bad, whatever I did. You would tell me if it wasn't that bad." She chewed on her lip. "I thought I'd changed, Sayid. I thought I grew up, but maybe it was only because I was secluded from everything else, like alcohol. Maybe it would have been better if we were still on the island. I feel like I'm falling and I don't know what to do."

His chest tightened at her confession. He had screwed up; he realized he should have held on to her from the minute they got on that boat and never had let go of her. But he had his own issues he was trying to figure out, but maybe doing it together would be better for both of them.

He ran his fingers through her hair. "You have me to hold onto."

She sat up slightly, looking him in the eyes. "But what if you realize that I'm not worth it? What if I can't keep the new life going here? I don't know if you would even like the person I was before we crashed."

If only she knew who he had been before the crash. Would she want to be with someone who had done the things he had done? She knew some, but not all of his past. He wished that he knew how to tell her that she was always worth it to him.

"You do not have to worry about that. We will find a way to make this work."

"Promise me that I'll always have you to rescue me," she whispered.

"Always. As long as you do the same for me."

"I promise."

She rested her head back against his chest, and closed her eyes. He continued to rub her forehead. He felt better now, even if it was only a little bit. He realized that he couldn't plan for what was going to happen in the future, but he could support her and love her, and that was all she asked of him.

He wondered briefly if the date he had planed for her would be ruined because of her hangover. But he realized it didn't matter. They could lay in bed all day watching movies, and be happy. He didn't need to plan an elaborate date, although he knew he still wanted to do everything for her. But they had a lifetime for that.

The End