AN: Written for bofoddity and previously published at my LiveJournal. Isn't it safe to say almost anything written about Lost is AU?
There are two things she'll allow herself to miss, three if she counts Goodwin's shoulder rubs. The first is a beta copy of South Pacific. The second, she tells herself, is still too much of a whole body ache to think about.
She finds a DVD copy of the first in a bargain bin when she and Rachel are out shopping. It's only ten bucks, and she doesn't have to suffer Ben's owl-eyed intimacy to get the only working beta player. She watches it later that night, with Rachel's TV, in Rachel's den, on Rachel's sofa, because freedom is still too frightening for anything to be Juliet's. She watches it alone, after her sister and Julian are asleep, because she knows it'll hurt. And it does.
None of the characters ever interested her, except maybe Bloody Mary—but, oh, the songs. They were always her favorite parts, and when she thinks about it, she knows why. They're her. She came to the island (though "Bali Ha'i" it wasn't) as "A Cockeyed Optimist." She'd hummed "Some Enchanted Evening" under at least a hundred glorious sunsets. And she'd even fallen in love with "A Wonderful Guy" more than once.
She starts to cry during "Happy Talk" though, and knows she won't make it through "This Nearly Was Mine." She presses Stop, then powers down the TV, the DVD player, the lights, and makes her way up the stairs to Rachel's guest room. Her head hurts; she tries thinking about tomorrow's salon appointment instead. She'll get a real stylist, a decent haircut, a deep conditioning treatment from a bottle that doesn't have a black and white label, the whole works, and she's gonna wash that island right outta her hair.
The men, that might take a little longer.
There. She's thought about the second one. Again. When she gets into bed, her whole body aches.
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