Title: The Mild Issue of Our Disgrace
Rating: PG-13
Summary: She seemed to be everywhere that he was, as if he was being shadowed. He had never been brazen enough to look at her when she knew that his eyes were on her, not even to offer a friendly smile. He didn’t know if she was following him, or if it was just wishful thinking on his part. He wished that he did know.
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost. At all. I wish, but alas...
Author's Note: For zelda_zee, who's interest in this fic pushed me out of my writing slump. ;) This fic is written entirely from Sayid's POV, and that's a first for me, so, please be gentle. Used for au100, prompt #86: choices.



Every time he caught himself watching her, he quickly corrected his gaze, found a new target to focus on, and stared at it intently. As much as he tried not to allow his mind, or his gaze, to wander, both of them inevitably did. He wished that he had a task, something to busy his hands and his mind with, something else that would capture his attention the way that she did.

It felt disrespectful. His heart ached whenever he though of Shannon, of how the pain of her death was still fresh, still lingered as if it had happened just yesterday. It had been weeks, true, but now was too soon, to soon to be letting his eyes slide along the curves of another woman's body.

But this woman in particular…this woman, there would never be an appropriate time to look upon with desire, to fantasize about her, even though he was already doing both. Guilt consumed him, but he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop.

She seemed to be everywhere that he was, as if he was being shadowed. He had never been brazen enough to look at her when she knew that his eyes were on her, not even to offer a friendly smile. He didn’t know if she was following him, or if it was just wishful thinking on his part. He wished that he did know.

He tried to busy himself with the beginnings of a plan to retrieve Jack, Kate, and Sawyer from their bonds at the hands of the Others, but his focus wandered too often for a concrete plan to form inside of his mind. He cursed himself and his inability to concentrate on the task at hand.

This had never been a problem before. He had always known what was important, what deserved his attention the most at any given moment. He didn’t know that now. He couldn’t force himself to focus, and it irritated him to no end.

After nearly a week of ignoring the problem, he became unable to bear himself any longer and decided that he could no longer go on like this, that the way he was feeling was not passing, would not be going away any time soon, and that it was beginning to usurp his thoughts to the point of madness.

He was going to have to set things out in the open. He was going to have to go to her, to purge his conscious, and hope that she didn’t look on him with horror and distain, or even worse, pity. He didn’t know when this had happened, when she had taken over his thoughts, turned them inside out, made him fall in love with her, but he did know that he could no longer keep this hidden from her. That even though it was disgraceful, he could no longer keep the secret.

*

When he finds her, he is thankful that she is alone. Her garden is where she comes to be just that, and his guilt compounds as he intrudes upon that. She looks up at him as he enters and smiles. He smiles back, though half-hearted, and almost sad. She frowns at that, brushes the dirt from her hands and sits back. She abandons the task at hand to focus on him.

“Is something wrong?” she asks, kindly. He sits down across from her, mimics her posture, commands his body to relax. It doesn't obey. He wrings his hands nervously in his lap and cannot meet her eyes. She becomes even more concerned at that, and inches closer, reaches over the sprouts that grow between them, and places a hand on his knee.

“Sayid?” she asks, unaware that the contact is making it even more difficult for him to speak – or to think. He takes a deep breath, however, and forces himself to look at her, to make his confession.

“For some weeks now, I have been avoiding you,” he begins. Her posture doesn’t change, nor the expression on her face. She nods, as though she had noticed. “I would like to attempt to explain this.”

She nods, sitting back. “Alright,” she replies.

“Something has been troubling me,” he tells her. “Feelings that are all too familiar. Feelings that are shameful, given that Shannon...” He stops, and his face pinches a bit. He doesn't know how to continue, if he can, so he doesn't try. He skips ahead a beat. “You are a married woman, and married to a man that I respect, and I cannot…I cannot feel the things for you that I do. But I cannot hide those feelings from you any longer.”

He lowers his gaze once more, breathes deeply. He feels no different. No better. He feel only guilt, and shame, and love for a woman that he has no right to love. “Sayid,” her voice comes mere seconds after his head has fallen. His eyes close. “Will you please look at me?”

He allows his head to rise, slowly, until he’s looking in her eyes once more, her kind, compassionate eyes. “I have known this for quite some time,” she tells him. He is unable to keep the shock from his face. “I noticed you had begun avoiding me almost a week after we had returned from the other side of the island, but also that your gaze, more often not, found me when we were in the same area.”

Sayid nods, slowly, almost unable to believe that the matter is closed, that he has said what he believed that he had needed to say and feels no different. He had believed that he would feel as though something had changed, but he doesn’t. He supposes it had been wishful thinking on his part.

“Then I suppose there is nothing left to say,” he eventually responds, beginning to climb to his feet and smiling down at her. It’s painted on, entirely for show. He can’t remember a time he has been more eager to flea. He has never dealt well with uncertainty, with standing on unsolid ground. He feels like he could sink into Sun’s garden, like that might be preferable.

Sun looks up at him strangely, most likely confused by his hasty attempt at a departure. He attempts to ignore that fact as he turns. He barely gets three steps before he hears her rise after him, before he feels her hand grip his arm loosely.

“Sayid,” she says. He can’t force himself to turn around, to face her again. Her hand continues to grip his arm while the other lands in the small of his back, pressing lightly. His eyes slip closed and he lets out a slow, controlled breath. It’s all he can do to keep himself steady, to not turn around and kiss her.

He prides himself in his ability to control his emotions, to not allow them to interfere with what he knows is right. Sun makes him forget that. Her hands on him make his body want to betray him, makes his thoughts drift away to fantasies and desires that he knows he will never experience. This is why he had attempted to leave, to run from her. She is taking over his mind in a way that he could not afford. In a way that would lead him down a dangerous path. One of betrayal, dishonesty.

“Stop,” she asks, as if he is still running. Maybe she can sense his mind racing simply by touch. He wouldn’t be surprised. She had been intuitive enough to know of his feeling for her, after all.

“Are you ashamed of your feelings for me?” Her question is simple, but he finds it so difficult to reply. Her close proximity to him makes it even more difficult. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head.

“I should not feel these things for you,” he answers, after a long silence. “You’re a married woman.”

“Yes, you’ve said that,” she replies, softly. He sighs again. He doesn’t believe that he’ll ever be able to articulate to Sun how he feels accurately. How his feelings for her leave him feeling disrespectful. To Shannon. To Jin. And to her. The hand on his arm tightens. The one on his back applies a bit more pressure. “Will you please turn around?” she requests.

He doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to allow himself to see her again, afraid of how his desires might betray him. But he doesn’t refuse her, though. He turns around, slowly. Her hand slides from his back, but the other remains on his arm, holding loosely. He lowers his gaze down to her and finds hers trained on him. She smiles, softly.

“Sun,” he begins, but she shakes her head, and he silences himself. Her other hand finds his right arm and holds, matches the pressure of the other so that she has a hold on forearms. He finds himself struck dumb by her actions, helpless to do anything but watch as she leans up, as she kisses him.

To say that he is surprised would be the least of it. He finds himself unable to think, to move. Her hands begin to tighten around his arms, and she doesn’t seem to be deterred by the fact that he isn't responding. She carries on kissing him, holds him tighter until he's reaching for her, putting his hands on her slim waist, pulling her body tightly against his, and kissing her back.

She pulls away for half a second. Their lips part, but their bodies remain close. Sayid holds onto her, grips her back in his hands. He rests his forehead against hers and whispers her name like an apology.

“Stop,” she replies, with a small shake of her head and a light chuckle. “Stop thinking so much.”

His only response is to kiss her again, to pull her as close to him as she can possibly be, as close as he has wanted her for weeks now. He won’t be able to heed her request for long. His thoughts will swallow him hole once more, some time soon. But that time is not now.

Now, he is kissing a woman he has come to idealize. A woman that he has watched, dreamed of. A woman that he had convinced himself he would never have. He can allow himself to have her, if only for now, for this moment.

He allows himself to be weak, to give in, so rarely. Sun, he finds, is more than worth the sacrifice.