Title: Not A Nib Nose

Rating: K+

Summary: Takes place immediately following "The Moth" (1.07); Claire is worried about Sayid when he breaks routine; short fluff

Featured Characters: Claire, Sayid

Status of Fic: complete

Author's Notes/Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show "Lost". They were created by JJ Abrams and Damon Lindelof and they belong to them, Touchstone, and ABC.

Claire stood there, feeling foolish, practically drongo. The problem with these shelters - well, one of them – was where to knock when visiting? Okay, and that was another problem, she wasn't exactly visiting socially. She was worried. She hadn't seen Sayid on the beach this morning and she couldn't recall a day when he wasn't at the fire when nature called her bright and early.

She had watched Kate and Sayid leave the beach yesterday afternoon, technical looking stuff in hand. Then Charlie raced into camp: Jack was buried in a cave in; they needed help to dig him out. Later Steve and Scott came back with word that Kate was at the caves; she had been leading the dig to Jack's rescue when Charlie saved the day. So that accounted for her. Then where was Sayid?

Not that she was a nib nose. As a diarist, people watching was an occupational hazard. That's what she had become since the crash: a diarist. Let's face it, a walk nothing short of a waddle, not much energy to speak of, and no one to really talk to here except Charlie when he was around, it left very little to do. So…. she sat back and watched, then noted it in her diary. See, a diarist.

And if she watched Sayid a little bit more than say, Kate, it really had nothing to do with the expression on his face when she handed him that envelope with his name on it. And nothing to do with the time that Sayid, hands on her hips, spun her around and stayed between her and the boars as the beasts tore from the fuselage.

When she noticed Sayid's absence last night as they all gathered around for the evening meal, it was because she was a diarist. And why she noticed it this morning. She was not a person who stuck her nose where it didn't belong. No one could call her a bush telegraph.

He might be at the caves. He might have gotten back there late and spent the night like Kate. But she was still going to check here. Just in case.

Sooooo, she mused and tentatively smacked the tarp with her open palm. "Sayid?"

She waited, listening.

She heard rustling from within. "Sayid?" A less than kind thought that perhaps someone – really, she wasn't thinking of Sawyer – was going through Sayid's things propelled her to lift the tarp and step in.

Sayid lay on his pallet, eyes closed. He appeared ….wrong somehow. Like he just collapsed wearing yesterday's clothes. That was it. Not that the man varied his wardrobe so much, but those had to be yesterday's clothes.

"Sayid?" she called softly. "Are you okay?"

He stirred, blinking his eyes open. He propped himself on his elbow. "Claire?" He looked pained. He gingerly moved his other hand to the back of his head

"You weren't out this morning." She wasn't feeling any less awkward but was becoming more certain that something was off.

He nodded. "I'm fine, Claire." He looked anything but. "Thank you."

"You got back late?" She stepped closer, dropping the flap. "From your trek with Kate?" Now that sounded exactly like a nib nose. She was glad of the lower light as her cheeks burned pink.

"We were trying….It was an experiment." He dropped the hand and pushed himself into a full sit. "I built an antenna. We were trying…. It doesn't matter."

"It didn't work?" She made a sympathetic noise. "Can you try a different part or something?"

"No." He leaned into his knees. "It was destroyed. Irreparably."

"Oh." She wished she knew exactly what he was talking about, but she never was any good at electrical things. Cell phones could be beyond her at times. Tarot cards made a lot more sense. Horoscopes. "Tough luck that, those electronic things are so fragile."

Sayid grimaced tightly. "Someone smashed it." He closed his eyes.

"What? Who?" She flushed as she realized the silliness of the last.

"I don't know. I was struck from behind. I didn't see…." Was he reluctant to disclose the details or woozy? "It is irreparable and I have no more parts to fabricate another."

"Are you hurt?" She crossed to him and squatted stiffly, hands on her knees, to make eye level as best she could.

"I was able to make it back to camp."

Aggravating man, that was no answer. "Where did you get hit?" Her hand hovered to touch him but didn't.

His eyes lacked spark when they met hers. "Claire, I am fine. I just need some rest."

She glanced to his bedding. "That's blood."

He appeared surprised as he turned his head to see. "It's stopped. It stopped this morning."

"What was bleeding? Just one straight answer, Sayid," she implored. "This one will do."

He reached for the back of his head again. "I can't see for myself but I believe that I have a small scrape right here."

"Let me see," This time she did touch, and pushed his hand away. "Do you have any idea what hit you?" His hair was thick, soft, and clotted with dried blood in places. Her fingers gently separated the strands, causing the blood to flake.

"I'd like more to know who." He flinched as she made her way to his scalp.

"Let's go see Jack. It doesn't look too bad, but it's a head wound. Those are supposed to be the worst." She straightened.

"I don't need Jack," he stated flatly.

"Please." She put a lot of wheedling into it.

"Will you leave me alone if I agree?" His eyes expressed his irritation, small, and close together.

"No. I'll leave you alone when we get to the caves." She stepped back.

"Claire, I don't need to see Jack. Some rest, something to eat. I will be fine."

She crossed her arms across her chest. "If someone hit you, then Jack should know. It's only right to report it to him."

They stared at one another. She tried a small smile.

"Let's go see Jack," he sighed, pushing to a stand. He was a little shaky. The color drained from his face. She grabbed his arm as he steadied himself; all this weight had to be good for something.

"Good," she said with satisfaction, smiling widely at him.

They stepped into the sun, Sayid almost wincing. His pallor was worse in the bright light.

"Let me get some water and we'll go." She started for her shelter.

He watched her ungainly progress.

"Claire," he called. "There's no real reason for you to accompany me unless you want to visit the caves."

She turned and looked skeptically at him. "Like you'll really go if I don't."

Sayid held up his hands in acquiescence. "I promise that I will see Jack."

"And tell him you got hit?"


Claire studied him a moment longer. "You know I'll ask next time I see him."

"I don't doubt it for a moment."

"Okay." She relented and resumed her waddle back to her diary.

"You're going to make a formidable mother, Claire." His cheeks rounded as he smiled.

She considered it. It was her turn to feel weak. "That's what I'm afraid of."