Title: Sayid's Quartet
Summary: Just what do the women of the island see when they see Sayid?
Featured Characters: Sayid, Kate, Sun, Shannon, Claire
Authors: islandpalm, purplegoose
Spoilers: In Translation; Confidence Man; but not really
Status of Fic: complete
Author's Notes/Disclaimer: We do not own the characters in this story, nor do we 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.
She stared down at the hand he had just kissed. Maybe chivalry wasn't dead after all. She turned to watch as he walked away, the long expanse of beach ahead of him. She wanted him to return, so she could look into his eyes one more time. Those dark soulful eyes that pierced hers as he told her he needed to be someone else. Someone other than the man he once was, someone other than the man he had been today.
If he gazed at her long enough, she might confess too. She had just kissed a man she hated, and liked it a little too much. That was the least of it. She had much more to tell. She could tell him she also wanted to be someone else. What was it about his eyes that made her weak? That could make her reveal everything?
Just now his eyes had been introspective, longing to put his life in order. They were different earlier. Earlier, they were filled with rage at Sawyer's refusal to turn over the inhalers. She knew the rage stemmed from a desire to help, but the anger in his eyes was palpable, and yet they were still hauntingly beautiful. She cursed Jack for not reigning Sayid in. He could have. He chose not to. If he had, maybe Sayid would still be standing in front of her with those hauntingly beautiful eyes.
She smiled momentarily as she thought about the way his eyes rolled when Shannon and Boone announced they were tagging along in the search for high ground. The expression on his face was priceless and she really did her best to discourage Shannon. Next image: Sayid completely elated at getting bars on the transceiver. His eyes absolutely danced with joy. They lit up like a child's on Christmas morning, probably not the most fitting description for Sayid. She tried to hold onto that image, his hopeful dancing eyes.
But her mind always came back to his dark and sultry eyes…dark, sultry, and brooding. Those were the eyes she longed to see again, the eyes that could see down into her soul, or what was left of it. If he came back, maybe his dark soulful eyes would hold compassion as she told him she needed to be someone else, too.