Shambala Montage PG
mood: 
happy
happyTitle: Shambala Montage
Fandom: Lost
Rating: PG
Summary: offering for Queen ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
falafel_musingsfor ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif)
lostsquee. A season one ensemble musical montage and my first ever song fic.
falafel_musingsfor lostsquee. A season one ensemble musical montage and my first ever song fic.Word Count: 1,957
Disclaimer: I don’t own Lost. Lyrics to Shambala by Three Dog Night
Wash away my troubles, wash away my pain
With the rain in Shambala
Wash away my sorrows, wash away my shame
With the rain in Shambala
With the rain in Shambala
Wash away my sorrows, wash away my shame
With the rain in Shambala
He had forgotten about the stash in his guitar case. It wasn’t much, just an emergency hit that he kept tucked into the little box where his picks went. Charlie had once figured it was the best place for it. He couldn’t imagine ever being separated from his guitar.
He didn’t find it again until he had been clean for two days, but two days was hardly anything. One look at the pinch of powder and it was as if those two days had never happened. He was a junkie again, and who would notice or care anyway if he took it? It was only one hit. Kneeling in the jungle, he dumped the contents out into his palm and just stared at it, as though waiting for it to speak to him, to tell him what to do. After several long minutes he saw a single drop of rain splash right into the middle of the small pile of powder, sending dust flying like a micro explosion. Seconds later a sprinkle became a deluge. Charlie watched, fascinated, as the water mingled with the powder, diluting it until it had given up its hold over him, weak and powerless, like Charlie had been until moments before.
His hand was washed clean now, but still Charlie remained on his knees in the jungle, wet palm outstretched, as though giving thanks for the salvation that the rain had brought. He breathed deeply the clean fresh smell of the rain in the trees.
“Charlie?”
Jack’s voice startled him out of his trance. He looked up, hoping the rain obscured his guilt.
“You ought to come in from the rain,” the doctor said.
Charlie got up and followed Jack to the caves without a word. When he got there Claire was waiting with a blanket. She led him to the fire.
“Sit down, you’re soaked,” she said. “I didn’t know where you’d gone so I sent Jack out to find you. What were you doing out there Charlie?”
Charlie looked at her, pregnant and glowing. She was here and she was safe because of him. When he had gone, she was actually worried. The last person who had ever worried about him was his mum and until now he hadn’t realized how much Claire resembled her.
“I was… looking for something,” he said.
“Did you find it?” she asked him, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders.
“Yeah, I think I did,” he said, smiling. “But it was here all along.”
Everyone is helpful, everyone is kind
On the road to Shambala
Everyone is lucky, everyone is so kind
On the road to Shambala
“She likes you, you know,” Sayid told him one day out of the blue.
Sawyer looked up from his crappy mystery novel at the Iraqi he had called a terrorist only a week before. He still wasn’t so sure he was wrong – he had a sixth sense when it came to judging character. The guy was shifty. He had to be messing with him and Sawyer wasn’t falling for it.
“What the hell are you talking about Abdul?” asked Sawyer.
“Kate,” Sayid explained calmly, glancing over to where the young woman stood, collecting spare parts for a radio Sayid was making. “She tries to hide it but I see the way she looks at you.”
“What are we twelve now?” scoffed Sawyer, eyes returning to his book. He had already figured out who the murderer was twenty pages ago but he was still compelled to read to the end to see how it turned out. “Why are you even telling me this?”
“Because you are alone here, and I know what it is like to feel alone,” Sayid said. “If you have a chance for companionship you are lucky. I wouldn’t turn my back on that.”
“Yeah, since we’re having true confessions here I wouldn’t mind a little companionship," Sawyer said with a smirk, playing along. “How long’s it been for you?”
Sayid shook his head, deflecting the crude remark. The Arab thinks he’s better than me, thought Sawyer and he felt a new surge of dislike.
“She sees something in you that even you perhaps do not. I just thought you should know,” said Sayid as he turned to walk away, his cause surrendered.
Sawyer watched for a moment, confused, and then called out to him, “Hey! Falafel!”
Sayid turned back despite the nickname.
“Why would you want to do something for me anyway?” Sawyer asked him, anxious to get to the punch line of this joke. “What the hell have I ever done for you?”
He paused as if he really had no good answer, none that Sawyer would understand at least. He looked Sawyer up and down, as if to assess the sincerity behind the question.
Finally Sayid said, “A friend is one less enemy.”
How does your light shine
In the halls of Shambala
How does your light shine
In the halls of Shambala
“Do you understand how this works Walt?” he asked him.
“I dunno,” said the boy to the tall bald man. “You want me to find my inner… “
Locke smiled. “Your inner Walt, yes. There’s a light inside you, and it’s powerful. This island is also powerful. I think together you can achieve great things, you just to learn to tap into that. You can find your destiny here. Maybe a miracle can happen to you too.”
“Cool,” said Walt. “How do I do that?”
They were sitting in a clearing on the jungle floor, just paces from the beach. Walt liked Mr. Locke, he listened to him like no other grown up had ever done. And he took him seriously, didn’t treat him like a little kid, because sometimes Walt didn’t feel like a kid. He felt like something bigger and older. Since coming to the island Walt felt that way a lot.
“Close your eyes and imagine you’re sitting in a closed box,” Locke instructed. “It’s pitch dark, and the only light that shines comes from where you sit. Can you do that?”
Walt closed his eyes tight and imagined the box, like the big cardboard ones he used to play in. Then he saw the light, a little yellow glow like a firefly.
“Okay, I got it,” he said.
“Now try and control that light,” said Locke. “Make it brighter. Then tell me what you see.”
Walt thought, imagining shapes surrounding him before actually seeing them. He shifted his focus to the light until he could increase its intensity and it burned brighter, bringing the shapes into clarity. He could see it now, one blurred form moved closer, calling his name, it was…
“Dad,” Walt said out loud in surprise, opening his eyes.
“What?” asked Locke, confused.
“Walt!” came the voice of Michael from the beach. “Where are you?”
“I gotta go,” said Walt, springing up and answering his father’s call. “This was fun, we’ll do this again later.”
I can tell my sister 'bout the flowers in her eyes
On the road to Shambala
I can tell my brother 'bout the flowers in his eyes
On the road to Shambala
“I’m going to get us rescued eventually you know,” Boone told his sister.
She continued to read her magazine, uninterested in her brother’s blatherings.
“That would be just like you wouldn’t it?” she said.
“I mean it, I will Shannon,” he insisted.
“Why?” she asked, dropping the glossy down and rolling her eyes.
“Why?” repeated Boone. “Don’t you want to be rescued?”
“I mean why do you always have to be everyone’s hero?” Shannon spat. Behind her, Sayid and Kate were building some kind of pole, Scott and Steve were collecting firewood and scraps for tools, Jack was making his rounds checking on the sick or injured, Jin was catching fish. “Look around you, it’s like we crashed in a plane full of heroes. Why can’t you just let it be for once? I think they’ve got it covered.”
Boone looked at the others, busy like worker ants. True, it didn’t always seem like anyone needed him, but he felt guilty sitting still, laying around on the beach like his sister the Queen bee while others did the lion’s share of the work. Everything in his whole life had been handed to him and while he had never complained before, for some reason here it made him feel like a parasite.
“You had your whole life ahead of you,” he muttered, still watching his fellow survivors. “You had a talent. You were going to be a dancer. Do you still remember that?”
“Every day of my fricking life,” she mumbled, picking her magazine back up.
Boone shrugged and sat down next to her. “I just think you should still have a chance to realize your dream.”
Shannon put her magazine down and looked at her brother for the first time. “Really? You’re kidding, right?”
“No,” said Boone. “I want to give you your life back.”
Shannon smiled, radiating warmth that melted her icy exterior.
“You always were my hero.”
Tell me how, how does your light shine
In the halls of Shambala
Tell me how, how does your light shine
In the halls of Shambala
Hurley wanted to have a clambake, but clams weren’t on the menu in this part of the world, wherever that was. Still, he wanted to do something nice for everybody, to cheer them up and get to know people better. There were over forty people here and so far Hurley only knew a handful. Yesterday at Dr. Arzt’s tent he met that guy Ethan who seemed really interested in the science teacher’s spiders, asking which ones were poisonous. Nice guy. He met Scott and Steve too, even though he kept getting them mixed up and forgot what they did for a living, not that it mattered anymore anyway.
He wanted to get to know the Korean couple since no one ever talked to them but the only word they seemed to have between them was fish. That would be good enough for Hurley’s purposes though because he was hoping to convince Jin to catch enough fish for the first annual Island beach party.
“Beach,” he said to Jin loudly, spreading his hands out over the sand to illustrate, “Party,” Hurley said next as he danced the monkey with his arms up and down. It only took two more tries before Jin was nodding that he understood, or maybe he just wanted him to stop.
Together they netted and cleaned dozens of fish. Somehow Sun seemed to understand without the charades. She made tiki lamps out of sticks in the ground and collected palm leaves for placemats. When the others caught wind of what they were doing one by one they pitched in.
Kate brought bananas, Sayid had coconuts.
Charlie brought his guitar, Claire offered to do astrology charts for everyone as entertainment.
Jack helped build a large campfire, Sawyer donated the drinks from the airplane liquor cart.
Walt brought Vincent because every beach party needed a dog, Michael drew caricatures.
Shannon and Boone went through the whole camp, letting everyone know about the festivities.
Locke brought a boar, Ethan caught some rabbits.
By nightfall, they had a real party going under the stars. Hurley met dozens of new people from all over the world and they played a game to remember names. The party lasted through the early morning hours because no one wanted to retire alone to their tents.
And for the first time since crashing on this scary island, he heard laughter.
I've been waiting patiently for you to write something, Pace! And I'm glad it was S1. I actually think my favorite part was Sayid talking to Sawyer about Kate. You write them incredibly well.
Nice use of Shambala! It has quickly become one of my favorite songs.
Genius that you are you managed to hit on many of my favourite S1 interactions - Charlie/Jack, Sayid/Sawyer, Walt/Locke, Boone/Shannon, Hurley/Jin - all wonderful! There were so many sweet touches; Jack looking for Charlie in the rain (aw!), Sayid's courtesy and insightfulness, Sawyer bookworming, Sawyer being a jerk (which I love!), the 'Falafel' nickname (is it possible to have a cute rascist nickname? Because somehow that one is), Locke being a wacky uncle and his box metaphors, Walt wanting to be older, Boone's rich boy guilt, Shannon's cynical snark, Hurley's mime to Jin, nice guy Ethan - so much to love!
And I love that you ended it with a party and everyone coming together, each bringing a contribution appropriate to their characters. I could hear the Shambala song by the end. Thanks for this. It's just what I wanted.
And yes, in the spirit of your character called Elliot, Falafel is my shout out to you. ;) Much obliged for the praise. :)
I think the Sayid/Sawyer bit is my favourite too. It was based on that little scene in the Wash Away montage where Sayid tosses Sawyer a piece of fruit and Sawyer looks confused and a bit ashamed at the same time for the unearned kindness.
Awesome! ♥
Also, Shannon's words, though harsh, sounded so true. They really crashed in a plane full of heroes.
I also loved Sayid's last line, his reason for telling Sawyer, seemed very him.
All the parts were just great. Love the last one though. Hurley's always the one who's known how to bring happiness into the situation.
I loved the feel of it and now I have to go find that song!