Fic: This is not sixth grade (Shannon/Ana-Lucia)

Title: This Is Not Sixth Grade
Author: Proserpina
Pairing: Shannon/Ana-Lucia. Yes, I know. Some Boone/Jack.
Summary: “In case you hadn't noticed, this isn’t sixth grade, so no, I don’t have a fucking crush on her,” Shannon says pissily, but even she has to admit it sounds kind of lame. Especially since her hand is still on Ana-Lucia’s breast.
Warnings: Depending on how you feel about ghosts interacting somewhat sexually with unwitting living people, could be interpreted as necrophilia and some non-con.
Rating: PG-13. Lots of bad words but no sex.
Spoilers: Up to and including last week's episode, the title of which I cannot remember.
Author's Notes: So, this is sort of a sequel to The Eternal Mystery of Ghost Donuts, my ghost!Boone and Shannon fic. But its sort of not, because a) if I do end up writing more "Ghost Donuts", I don't think I'll go to the Shannon/Ana-Lucia place again, and b) that fic was Jossed by last week's episode, anyway, whereas this fic is affected by the new canon. So the premise is the same (ghost!Shannon and Boone snark at each other) but its not really the same universe. This fic came about because of the Lost Fanfic Idea Generator, which gave me a prompt of Shannon and Ana-Lucia. I have no idea how it went to the slash place, but it did.



When they got to the beach, Shannon really, really meant to go see Sayid. Really. Boone went off into the forest to go exercise his voyeur tendencies on Jack (ew), and Shannon was going to go into the tent Sayid had made for her, and watch him sleep—or not sleep, knowing Sayid and his reactions to stress—and maybe say some of the things she should have said to him while she was alive. Stuff like, “I really, really love you, more than I’ve ever loved anybody,” and “There’s this edge of your smile, right there on the left, that tilts up and that’s what made me love you,” and “Hey, did I ever mention that I kind of fucked my brother? Cause maybe I should have told you that, even though you really wouldn’t have wanted to know. Because then you would know almost everything.”

Instead, she ends up further down on the beach, where Ana-Lucia is sleeping, Mistereko curled up tensely a few feet away from her. Shannon shivers when she sees him—when he’s awake, its like he knows that she’s there, and wow, is it weird that being noticed is now something strange and creepy. But she still finds herself kneeling next to Ana-Lucia, staring down at her and making a valiant effort at ignoring Mistereko.

Its weird—she was watching when Ana-Lucia had Sayid tied to that tree. And yeah, most of the time she wanted to punch the bitch, but sometimes she just found herself staring at the other woman, awed and a little confused.

Ana-Lucia has this life force inside of her. Okay, sure, its a life force like an atom bomb going off, huge and destructive and scary, but still sort of awesome and incredible at the same time. Even as she slept, Shannon could see life blazing out of her with every breath she took.

And besides, she’s really fucking pretty. Shannon only wishes her tits looked like that. Not that it matters much now, she thinks, sighing down at the hole in her chest.

And okay, maybe she wishes Ana-Lucia would direct her huge destructive life force towards something other than trying to kill Shannon’s boyfriend (ex-boyfriend? Does the fact that she’s dead mean they can’t go out anymore? Probably), and being killed herself certainly wasn’t cool, but still. Even pointing a gun at Sayid or asking him to kill her, she’s sort of scarily beautiful. The fact that she’s wrapped up in pain makes her kind of hard to look at (because Shannon can see things like that now, purplish waves of pain radiating off Ana-Lucia every single second) but even when she says she wants to die, she’s screaming with life.

Shannon kind of misses being alive. Okay, not like it’s a lot different now, since she can eat and talk and, like, exist. She can even have orgasms (she checked, last night, while Boone was walking around the forest. Because no way in fucking hell is she going through the afterlife for god knows how long without getting to come). In fact, its almost sort of better, because she can eat ice cream and pizza and a billion other things she couldn’t get on the island when she was alive, and she can walk around and listen to people’s conversations and learn their bad little secrets. (The conversations are mostly boring, sure, but if you know who to look for its like watching her own little island soap opera—sit back and have some popcorn, Jack and Kate and Sawyer are having some hilarious sexual tension that will never, ever be resolved.)

But yeah. She misses being alive. She misses being acknowledged by people other than Boone and creepy Mistereko. She misses petting Vincent and having him come to her when she called, because though he seems to know she’s there now, he just barks and runs away. She misses kissing Sayid, touching his face and rubbing her hand against the grain of his beard. But even more than that, she just misses the very fact of being alive. Feeling her heart beat throughout her body, her chest expanding as she breathes in and out.

Ana-Lucia has all that. The breathing, the heartbeat, and this other thing that Shannon has never had. This thing that Sayid has, too, this blinding aura of life in the midst of death.

Shannon leans over Ana-Lucia and touches her mouth to the other girl’s, trying to ingest some of that life for herself.

And just like always, that’s the exact second Boone pops up to ruin the moment.

“Oh my God,” he says. Shannon jerks her head up and shushes him automatically, before remembering—oh right, dead, she can’t hear us anyway. Instead she scowls and curls a little further over Ana-Lucia, protecting her from Boone’s gaze. For god’s sake, the poor girl’s boobs are practically popping out of her top, and Shannon doesn’t want anyone to see Ana-Lucia like that. Anyone but Shannon, anyway.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she hisses.

He ignores her, as usual. “Were you actually about to make out with the girl who murdered you? Really? Because, I mean, I know your love life was fucked up—case in point, here,” he smirks, pointing at himself, “but still. This is, like, a whole new level.”

“Oh, shut up.” Shannon rolls her eyes. “Shouldn’t you be watching Jack jerk off or something?”

“Already did. You know how it is on the island—so much tension, so little time to yourself, once you finally get to be alone you’re off like a shot. At least,” he said, looking concerned, “at least I hope it’s just the island thing, because if he’s usually like that several dozen fantasies of mine have been totally ruined.”

Dammit. Boone was so much easier to deal with when she could tease him about his pathetic little crush on Doctor Jack, Medicine Woman. Now he’s all blasé and unconcerned about it, and its really goddam annoying.

He continues, because he’s Boone, and therefore doesn’t know when to shut the hell up. “Seriously, what the fuck? Didn’t she try to kill your boyfriend? Or—ex-boyfriend, I guess.” Shannon glares—she hates it when they have the same thoughts. “Not to mention actually killing you.”

“She was just trying to keep herself alive!” Shannon slaps a hand over her mouth—she hadn’t actually meant for that to come out. In fact, she hadn’t actually known that she’d been thinking it at all. Usually Shannon has no time for people and their excuses and their woe-is-me whining about their horrible lives, but for some reason she actually has sympathy for Ana-Lucia.

Maybe it’s the breasts. It’s pretty easy to have sympathy for someone with breasts like that.

“Oh. My. God.” Boone looks like he’s somewhere between horrified and about to die from laughter. (If he wasn’t, you know. Already dead.) “Do you have a crush on her?”

“In case you hadn't noticed, this isn’t sixth grade, so no, I don’t have a fucking crush on her,” Shannon says pissily, but even she has to admit it sounds like of lame. Especially since her hand is still on Ana-Lucia’s breast.

“Yes, you do. You really, really do.” Boone sits down across from Shannon and stares at her over Ana-Lucia’s body. Shannon finally uncurls herself from around Ana-Lucia, though she still wishes she were solid enough to pull up her top. That shit is seriously distracting. “You know, I really should have seen his coming. Guy who cheats on you, guy who hits you, girl who murders you. It is kind of a natural progression. Though, I really wasn’t anticipating the whole lesbian thing.” He tilts his head, thinking about it. “Of course, you didn’t go to college, so I guess you had to experiment some time.”

“I hate you so much,” she seethes. “Really, really a lot. Like, more than that time you broke my Barbie convertible. Or the time you fucked Adam Stevens when you knew I liked him first.” Or that time I asked you to fuck me and you actually gave in, she thinks but doesn’t say.

But its like Boone can read her mind sometimes, and he recoils slightly, thrown and hurt. “I—really? Is this—I mean, are you…”

“You know, for someone who ran a business, you can be pretty fucking inarticulate,” she snaps.

“What about Sayid?”

Oh, fuck you double for saying that, Boone, she thinks. “I—don’t know,” she says. She looks down at Ana-Lucia. Her eyelashes are fluttering as she sleeps, and her mouth moves as she breathes, letting out little dream-mutters. Shannon’s not really sure where all of this came from. Boone has a point—and that is really scary enough, all by itself—she still loves Sayid. And this is the girl who killed her, accidentally or not. And its not like she can do anything about—whatever this is—anyway, because, hey, dead.

Boone gives her that look. That penetrating, understanding big brother-look her used to give her, before his mom fucked her over and Shannon became a different person. “Okay,” he says. He gets up, brushing invisible sand off his knees—habit, must be, because nothing really touches them now—comes over to where Shannon’s still sitting, and bends down to hug her, kissing the top of her head. “Look, its late. And you’ve had a long day, what with dying and all. Why don’t you get some sleep here, and I’ll go crash in the hatch.”

She nods. “Gonna go molest your boyfriend in his sleep?” she asks meanly, trying to get some of her own back.

He snorts, nodding down at Ana-Lucia. “People in non-consenting houses shouldn’t throw stones. But no—I’m just gonna watch him sleep,” he says wistfully, and Shannon realizes that he’s really in love with Jack. Which is weird, because a) personally she doesn’t get the whole Jack thing, and b) she never really thought he could be in love with anyone but her.

“Yeah, go,” she says, feeling sad for him. He never got to tell Jack when he was alive, and now its too late—all he can do is watch Jack sleep.

But then, she thinks, lying down next to Ana-Lucia, she and Boone are kind of in the same boat—plane, island, whatever. And at least Boone actually got to have actual conversations with Jack when he was alive, without bleeding chest wounds being involved. Well, mostly.

Whatever. She’s dead. Are there even really any rules anymore? Is there any point in being sad, or being anything, really? Shannon doesn’t know. Instead of thinking about it, she just curls her body around Ana-Lucia’s and wishes she could feel her warmth.

END