Rating: I wouldn't say it's as harsh as NC17, but there is sex in this fic. And not just talking about it, actually doing it. Don't read it if that offends you, or if you will flame me about it afterwards. You've been warned.
Spoilers: Set directly after "Collision" in S2.
Disclaimer: No part of 'Lost' belongs to me, nor do I have anything worth suing for.
Summary: One-shot. After Shannon's death, Libby gives Sayid what he needs to keep going. Libby's POV.
No-one touched him after she died – I noticed that before anything. He carried her back from the jungle, with Eko, Ana, and the Doctor close behind, but there was no contact between any of them. Not even between him and his own group after he was back in their midst. No hugs of consolation; not even a manly clap on the shoulder.
He disappeared for the rest of the day, and returned the next afternoon, when we buried her. He stood silently, surrounded by his own crowd, but as separate from them as we were. We 'tail' people stood together, slightly away from the rest. We were tolerated, but not welcomed. He disappeared again soon after that.
I was living at the beach, and didn't see him again for almost six days. He approached me as I sat stoking the signal fire. The sun had gone down hours before and everyone was asleep, but I stayed awake to watch over things – I couldn't adjust to living out here without a sentry; not with so many dangers around.
"You are the psychologist," he said quietly. It wasn't a question, but I nodded slightly anyway. I was still a little afraid that Ana might have been right. That he would seek his revenge on all of us for her death.
"May I?" he gestured to the end of the log I was sitting on, and I nodded again. We sat in silence for a while, questions running around my mind and compassion burning in my heart.
He spoke softly, his eyes staring intently into the fire. "I had assumed that you would be more of a conversationalist."
"Is that what you need?" I couldn't help but let my inner psychologist take over. "Conversation?"
I sighed inwardly, unsure of how to continue with this man who was so strictly guarded. We sat in silence for another long moment.
"It seems that I was wrong," he remarked finally.
"Your conversational skills," he turned his eyes away from the fire and fixed them on my own.
I smiled a little, trying to put him at ease while still trying to figure him out. "You just said that you didn't want conversation."
"I said that I didn't need it," he corrected gently.
I was intrigued, and felt desperate to help. "What do you need?" I asked in a tone that I hoped was light enough not to be too invasive.
He sighed deeply, and for a moment I wondered if he was going to stand and walk away.
"Time," he said eventually, "and contact."
My throat suddenly felt dry, and I swallowed hard. He was an attractive man, and I was thrown off-guard by his sudden openness.
He reached a dark hand out and brushed his long fingers over my cheek. I think my heart stopped in my chest. I was barely breathing, and I marvelled at the softness that appeared in his eyes at the simple touch of another person.
I tried hard to pull myself together, and offered him a small smile. His other hand took hold of mine, and he held it softly to his own cheek so that we mirrored one another. I felt the soft scratching of his beard on my fingertips, but I felt the pain that rolled off of him go through my whole body. He was dying inside.
He removed our hands from each other's faces and interlaced our fingers. The intensity was stifling. We stood, and he led me quietly through the jungle. Eko had told us all about the hatch in the jungle, but I had never been to see it for myself. I let myself be led, feeling sure that he knew where he was going.
We arrived at the hatch and he walked swiftly inside. He opened a nearby door and pulled me gently in behind him. The room held his scent, and I knew then that he had not been living at the caves as I had expected. He had been living in this small bedroom, keeping to himself for almost a week.
He turned quickly as I closed the door behind me, and pinned me softly against it. His eyes searched my own and I could see all the way to the grief in his soul.
He leaned in slowly and kissed me gently, giving me every opportunity to change my mind. His kiss was chaste, and when he pulled back he assessed me again, ensuring that I was willing to give him the comfort and contact that he needed.
My professional training was screaming about ethical conduct, but I silenced it with a small nod of consent. He kissed me again and I felt his tongue touch my bottom lip. I opened my mouth slowly to allow him entrance and wrapped my arms around his neck, encouraging him closer. He relaxed into my touch and his hands settled gently on my hips.
He pulled me away from the door as our kisses deepened, and slowly walked us towards the small bed in the corner of the room. I could feel the sadness coming off of him in waves, and I held him closer as he laid me gently down on the bed.
He explored my skin skilfully, and his mouth moved to caress my collarbone. I grabbed hold of his shirt and he quickly shrugged it off, relieving me of my own with nimble hands.
His fingertips grazed my bare breast and I gasped audibly. He soon replaced his hands with his mouth and I almost moaned. He removed the rest of our clothing and I stopped breathing completely, and felt my pulse pounding as though I were running a sprint. I closed my eyes briefly to get my bearings, and managed to force myself to breathe again.
He lay gently on top of me, holding onto my small frame, placing small kisses all over my neck. He lifted his eyes to my own and held them, silently asking permission one last time. I placed a hand on his cheek like he had shown me at the beach, and leaned in to kiss him softly. He deepened the kiss, and I moaned slightly into his mouth when he finally entered me.
We moved together, trying to forget the outside world and lose ourselves in the moment. We came at the same time; something that's never happened to me before; and I held him tightly as he shuddered at the sensations.
We slept for hours; wrapped together in a single bed under one scratchy blanket. When I finally woke, it was to the sound of insistent beeping, and I reached blindly for the alarm clock on my bedside table. I opened my eyes slowly when I missed the snooze button, and was greeted instead by soft, dark eyes.
"Good morning," he whispered. The first words he had spoken since we left the beach.
There were hurried footsteps in the hall outside the door, and after a moment the beeping stopped abruptly.
I smiled faintly, "Good morning."
"Did you sleep well?"
I nodded slowly. It was my first one night stand, and I wondered what the post-coital protocol was with a virtual stranger on a deserted island. The fact that there were probably no rules set down for the situation didn't escape me, and I knew that I would have to wing it. But then, it was comforting to know that if there really were no rules, he would be just as adrift as I was.
He looked at me with a kind expression, but his eyes were piercing. I took in his face, noticing how tired he still looked.
"I'm going to go," I said, with the least amount of awkwardness I could muster. "You should get some more sleep."
He nodded slightly, averting his eyes politely as I left the bed and pulled on my clothes. I stole a look at him as I sat on the end of the bed to put on my shoes. He was watching me silently, with slight sadness crossing his features. I felt a surge of affection for him, causing me to lean down and kiss him softly and innocently on the mouth. He smiled a little as I pulled away, and I held the image in my mind as I closed the bedroom door behind myself.
I saw him later that day at the beach. I was sitting under the trees, watching from afar as Doctor Jack left the young mother's tent. He was dressed differently to the night before, and he walked so that his path would intersect Jack's as they both reached the edge of the tree line.
They stopped for a moment of conversation, and I could see that his face was different. He was different. Jack seemed to notice as well, because he smiled broadly, and placed his hand firmly on his friend's shoulder before they parted. It took more than a week, but finally there it was. Contact.