[Daisy] On the Beach

Who: Daisy Adair (in Damon's body)
When: Immediately following A Mother's Touch
Where: The beach (Camp Crash)
Invited: Beach dwellers
Status: Complete

THEN

Daisy had tried not to laugh. She really, really had.

It wasn't funny! she told herself. But--come on, of course it was. That obnoxious, sexist bastard reduced (in his mind, at least) to a mere woman. A slip of a woman at that. A new mother with breasts full of milk and a hungry infant in his arms.

The island had been a font of inconvenience, discomfort and weirdness since they crashed here. But this once it seemed to have dispensed some justice. Just maybe Detective Inspector Gene Hunt would learn a little something from this incident.

Daisy had laughed--and instantly felt the murderous rage that rolled off of Hunt like a slap in the face. Claire's face had twisted in a very unattractive scowl and she'd stared daggers at Daisy. "Don't you laugh at me, you bastard!" Claire had roared, not remembering--or perhaps not caring--that it was Daisy, not Damon laughing.

Aaron stopped nursing to voice his fear and alarm at the hostility suddenly radiating off his mother. As he'd screamed his displeasure, Damon had turned to glare over his shoulder at Daisy--and seeing her own face glaring at her was weirdly disquieting.

"You're. Not. Helping," Damon had said. The unspoken thought, If you aren't going to help, get out. came through loud and clear.

The laughter had died away abruptly. The stew of terror, humiliation, rage, and disdain from the three other occupants of the room was tangible. It was oppressive, stifling. Daisy had desperately wanted to escape it. She wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else--

NOW

--and suddenly Daisy was standing in loose sand, blinking tear-filled eyes as the after image of the early morning sun hung in her field of vision. She raised one hand to shield her eyes from the brilliance of the sun.

A stiff breeze filled with the smell of the sea blew in her face, stirring the hair on head--and on her arms and legs. Daisy shivered at the alien feel of it. She heard the crash of the surf, and the screech of gulls overhead.

(I'm on the beach,) Daisy thought dully. She looked around, knowing before she turned her head that she'd see the makeshift shelters and debris of the survivors' camp all around her. She thought she ought to be shocked by this turn of events but she just didn't have it in her.

Surprise fatigue Blaise had called it once. (Good name for it,) Daisy thought. So Damon could...vanish and reappear somewhere else? (What a useful talent,) Daisy thought. (It would make Reaping so much more convenient--)

"Damon? Is that you?"

Daisy turned. Hurley stood behind her. Something about his posture was off. "No, I'm Daisy. Daisy Adair. You're not Hurley. Who are you?"

Hurley smiled as if pleased. "Very good. I'm Sue. Sue Cullen."

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From:

sinanju.livejournal.com

Damon's eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed appraisingly. "You're taking this remarkably well, Sue," Daisy said.

(If you only knew,) Sue thought. She'd been up before sunrise and thus wide awake when she'd felt herself ripped from her own body and slammed into Hurley's bulky form. For a moment she'd wondered if it were some kind of nightmare. But it had been all too real.

She had been shocked and horrified and come closer to an apparent-age appropriate tantrum than she'd come in centuries. Being a perpetual child had a lot of drawbacks, god knows--but immortality and the ability to heal from any injury were not among them. Nor was having to spend no time worrying about illness or disease.

Just struggling to her feet was a shocking experience. Hurley was stronger than she would ever be. Fat he might be, but he was also a grown man with a large frame and more muscle mass than Sue would ever possess. But he lacked the flexibility of a child, and his sheer bulk made bending and flexing as she was used to doing difficult if not impossible.

Once she'd climbed to her--his--feet, she was surprised and more than a little alarmed to realize she could feel his heart pounding. Hurley didn't have anything like the aerobic fitness Sue had worked to maintain for centuries, the better to fight--or run away--when danger threatened.

(My god,) Sue thought, (I could have a heart attack and die.) Or a stroke. Or stumble, fall and break her neck. Or any of the countless other life-threatening conditions that mortal man was prey to, and which she had never personally feared before. It was a terrifying realization. (How do mortals live with it?)

Eventually Sue had calmed down. Surely there was a way to reverse this. There had to be. All she had to do in the mean time was take care of herself--of Hurley's body. At least she didn't have to worry about him harming her body. He'd be hard pressed to lose her head.

(And Adam is at the bunker,) Sue thought with great relief, (so there won't be any chance of...misunderstandings, or unfortunate questions about why Adam makes her head buzz whenever he's around.)

"Sue?"

Sue realized Daisy had walked closer and had called her name a couple of times now. "Sorry," she said with a smile. "I was...thinking."

"Well, I guess this answers the question of whether this only happened back at the bunker," Daisy said.

"Does anyone else know what happened? Or how?" Sue asked.

Daisy shook her head. "Not that I know of."

From:

sinanju.livejournal.com

Hugh Emerson

Hugh woke abruptly, startled and aware of several things all at the same time. One, he remembered; who he was, where he was, and everything that had happened to him, both here on the island and in a long and adventurous life. Two, all of the accumulated aches and pains he took for granted--as much the consequences of an active life as of his age--were absent. Three, he had morning wood.

And what wood! He had one the cat couldn't scratch. Hard ons like this were few and far between at his age in the absence of Viagra. Hugh reached for it. It would be a tragedy to let a gift like this go to waste....

Hugh's eyes popped open as he got a grip on his erection. It didn't feel like his. Since when had he not been circumsized? And not quite so well endowed?

Hugh sat up. This wasn't his shelter. This wasn't his body. The skin was tanned, smooth and considerably less hairy than his own. With a full head of thick dark hair.

(Tommy,) Hugh thought. (I've switched places with Tommy. How could this have happened? Who did it? How? Why? And what am I going to do with a strong, healthy young body while I've got the chance?)

Jin and Sun Kwon

Jin and Sun sat in uncomfortable silence, as they had done for a long while now. Jin was sulking, shocked, horrified and humiliated. He would have fled the shelter--and her presence--save that it would have exposed him to more humiliation.

Sun had to struggle not to laugh. He'd never forgive her, just as he'd never see the humor in what had happened, or the possibilities. Sun sighed. Exchanging places in the middle of their lovemaking had been shocking and, though she'd never admit it to him, arousing. Sun had wanted to continue but Jin would have none of it.

Charlie Pace

Shannon was a real bitch, but she had a great body. And for once Charlie had it all to himself. (And ain't that the truth!) Charlie thought.

After his initial panic at waking up in Shannon's shelter, and his near melt-down at waking up in Shannon's body, he'd decided to take advantage of an opportunity that would never come again. He'd stripped bare and had a fine old time playing with her breasts.

It took a lighter touch than he'd thought and Charlie had filed that information away for the future. Once he'd gotten the hang of it, though, it was a hell of a lot of fun. But eventually he'd had to let his hands wander further south--and again found that it required a much lighter touch than he'd always used.

Getting his rocks off turned out to be a lot more complicated than he thought it would be. It was much more delicate process than grabbing his joystick and wanking. It took a while to work out the kinks but once he got things sorted out it was worth the effort. Bloody hell, what a ride! Once he got that train moving it just didn't fucking stop....

Sawyer

Sawyer sat up abruptly. He looked over at Walt, who sat up just as abruptly. "You're not my dad," Walt announced.

"No shit, Sherlock?" Sawyer asked. "Ain't this a kick in the pants."

From:

sinanju.livejournal.com

"Oh god," Daisy moaned, "I want to die...."

"Don't be such a drama queen," Sue-in-Hurley's-body replied.

"You don't understand--" Daisy whimpered.

"Yeah," Sue said, and Daisy could practically hear her rolling her eyes. "You're not like other people, pain hurts you!"

(I'm not like other people,) Daisy thought sullenly. She was undead, a Grim Reaper. Pain had been transitory and largely irrelevant to her for the last seventy years. Now it was...big and bright and, and, yes, painful. Being alive again sucked.

And now she knew the answer to the question which had occurred to her when she realized that Damon could read peoples' minds: Does he do it all the time? Why wouldn't he? How could he not? How could he not take advantage of the ability to know--to know--what people really thought and felt?

Answer: because it goddamn well hurt!

Daisy's head throbbed horribly, relentlessly. She felt so nauseous that she would almost welcome vomiting, if only to end the uncertainty. Her eyes--Damon's eyes, really--were so sensitive to light that despite the stifling midday heat in the shelter, she didn't dare remove the blanket draped over her. A single beam of sunlight was like an icepick to the brain.

Hurley gave a long-suffering sigh. "Don't be such a baby," Sue said. "You brought this on yourself."

"Bite me," Daisy muttered.

"Is that any way to talk to the person who brought you pain killers?"

Daisy thrust one hand out from under the blanket. "Gimme!" She felt a couple of tablets dropped into her palm. She tossed them in her mouth and swallowed them dry. Then she struggled with renewed nausea for a minute.

She'd learned a great deal in the last few hours. She'd tiptoed through the thoughts and feelings and memories of just about everyone here, snooping and prying unabashedly. She'd witnessed Hugh gleefully--yet guiltily--contemplating the possibility that the change might be permanent. She knew more about Jin and Sun's courtship and marriage than they could possibly imagine. She'd sensed Charlie's enthusiastic exploration of Shannon's body--and so much more!

She even knew now who and what Sue--Culsu--really was. But the price she was paying now was horrendous. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad if she'd been more restrained. But the opportunity might never come again, so she'd ignored the fatigue, the first warning twinges, then the growing ache between her eyes. By the time the pain forced her to stop, it had taken on a life of its own. It continued growing worse long after she'd quit. After she'd retreated to the shade of the shelter. After she'd covered herself with a blanket.

It was exquisitely painful now, and the pain was still getting worse. Daisy might have screamed and cried save that any movement only made it worse. She huddled under the blanket, sweating in the heat and struggling to contain her nausea, enduring the pain.

It wasn't like she had a choice.

From:

fikgirl.livejournal.com

Damon was embarrassed, Claire was embarrassed and Hunt was livid and digusted. Feeding had been a terrible ordeal for everyone, including Aaron, and Damon hadn't been looking forward to repeating the process again in a few hours. But Hunt couldn't be talked into learning to use the breast pump, so only Claire's threats of tying him down and treating him like a cow seemed to matter at all.

Damon had the feeling that it was because he realized how much beefier his body was than Claire's and how much Claire probably didn't know Hunt's strength.

While Claire took a shower - not telling Hunt was her intention was, but insisting once she and Damon were out of earshot that she couldn't smell like him all day and "I'll keep my eyes clothes and not touch anything, but he smells like something died in a brewery." - Damon was on Aaron duty. He didn't mind Aaron duty as staying calm and keeping the baby soothed distracted him from remembering what it was like to hold Claire's very full, breasts in his hands.

There was absolutely nothing romantic or sexy about it - and it was even a bit gross and creepy when he let himself recall who was in possession of Claire's body - but his mind found great pleasure and satisfaction in revisiting those moments. As twisted as it was, he got totally aroused when he remembered those moments and Damon was actually relieved to be in Daisy's body. It meant he wasn't walking around at half-mast.

When nursing time came again, Hunt grumbled, cursed and was generally uncooperative. Claire insisted that Damon should "assist" because she didn't want "his bloody hands on my breasts." The logic was lost on him, given that Claire was in Hunt's body, but she refused to back down. Damon decided to - wisely - not press his luck by asking if that meant she wanted Damon's hands on her (very lovely) breasts.

Damon resumed his kneeling position and positioned the baby when the world slid away from him. It snapped back suddenly and with excruciating pain. His head felt like someone was going at it with a jackhammer from the inside out, and the cacophony of voices and emotions was overwhelming. The heat was stifling and the dark was little comfort and scrambling at his shields only hurt more.

The world realigned itself just as quickly and for the first time, Damon was happy to not be in his body.

Hunt roared, scaring Aaron and Claire gave a loud cry of despair.

Damon simply pulled the pieces together, recognizing the pain of an exertion headache.

Now that's karma, Damon thought. All telepaths learned it the hard way eventually; for right now, Daisy was a telepath.

Maybe if he could figure out where she teleported to, he'd try to find a way to help her.

Or maybe he'd just ask Jon to give her a mental shout out.

And if my body isn't recovered by the time this is over, then I'll kill her.

From:

sinanju.livejournal.com

Daisy was absolutely certain that her head was visibly pulsing with each agonizing throb of the migraine. She was beyond even whimpering or crying now. Just lying still and enduring the pain was all she could manage; she had no energy left for theatrics. The painkillers Sue had given her had made no detectable difference.

All at once the pain was gone. Daisy blinked, disoriented and nearly losing her balance. She was crouched in a well-lit room, holding baby Aaron and fumbling with Claire's naked breast in a not terribly successful attempt to let him nurse.

And she was gloriously free of pain!

(Oh thank god--) Daisy thought, and then she felt her skull crushed between two sledge hammers. She was back in the dark, lying under a blanket in the stifling heat of a makeshift shelter on the beach with unendurable pain squeezing her consciousness down, compressing it to a pinpoint...and then just a little further.

Daisy passed out.