Mr. Eko

(( This sort of fits in a weird AU where Boone has died, but Shannon didn't. I made it up just because I had this idea, and ... well, it's the only way it really works. ))

Eko paused when he saw the girl, hiding her face between her knees as she sat by the makeshift graveyard.  She had not seen him yet, and he was tempted to simply turn away and come back later.  Shannon, for that was her name, was most likely here for solace, and he would not be a welcome intrusion.  Especially considering he was cradling in his arms the broken, rotting head and shoulders of his own dead brother.

He was well aware that it would be a strange and most likely frightening sight for the girl.

Before he could turn away, though, Shannon turned, perhaps hearing his small shuffle in the sand.  Her eyes widened, cheeks flushed and wet with tears, and the girl shrieked, before she calmed and realized who it was.

"Oh, fuck, Mr. Eko, I'm sorry -- what are you holding?"

Eko looked down at his brother and shifted his hold on the part of the corpse he had decided to bring, to bury.  "It is my brother."

Shannon looked perhaps more confused and disgusted, but she didn't stand or move away from Eko as he stepped toward her.  He placed Yemi on the ground, away from the blonde.  Her disgust had faded, though, into bemused calm.

"Where did he come from?" she quietly asked.

Eko turned his gaze toward the small cross marking Boone's grave.  He knew the story of how her step-brother had died.  It was his fault, in a way, and it was right that he was brought here to bury Yemi, with her present.

After a moment, collecting his thoughts and preparing himself the inevitable outburst, Eko slowly spoke.  "He was on the small plane in the jungle, which crashed here years ago."

Out of the corner of his eye, Eko saw Shannon look around the area, bewildered, until she focused her gaze on Boone's grave, just as Eko had.  "The -- the plane that fell on Boone?"  Her voice was small.

Eko nodded.

Shannon swallowed and nodded as well.

Eko folded his hands in his lap and waited.  Yemi was not impatient to be buried, and Eko wanted most of all to be respectful to the girl who had lost her brother much more recently than he.

Shannon punched Eko in the arm, much harder than he would have guessed a woman so petite could.

She glared at him, anger shining through poignantly behind her tears.  She was beautiful. 

Turning away as quickly as she had faced him, Shannon started to cry as she looked at Boone's grave marker.  Her sobs were soundless and pained.  Eko nodded, unclasped his hands, and put an arm around her.  Shannon turned into his solid embrace and cried.

( This prompt is from realmof_themuse, which I'm a member of on layered_con. )

You walk out of your home, or your business, and are mobbed by a crowd who are protesting something you do or are. How would you deal with that?

Mr. Eko stepped out of the small store, ducking his head so as to not knock his skull on the low doorjamb. His eyes were downturned, his thoughts focused on the deal they just closed, and he didn't notice the group of barefooted, sneering men a few feet outside the building until one of his own men rested a firmly gentle hand on his upper arm.

Eko looked up and raised his chin, smiling wryly. He enjoyed how his simple acknowledgement caused more than half of the waiting men to either shy back or at least take a small step away.

He gave them a few moments to speak up and confess as to why they were there, seemingly waiting for him in this heat of the day. When no one spoke, not even the one up front and middle, in the bright red shirt, clutching a stick and jutting out his jaw, Eko took his opportunity to break the silence.

"Yes?" he simply asked, his smile turning into a grin, his white teeth even brighter against his dirt dark skin.

Now, now the man in the red patterned shirt replied. "We want you and your men out of our town, Eko," he said, sounding bold and brave, even if he wouldn't quite meet Eko's eyes, instead looking at the gangster square in the forehead.

---

Mr. Eko stepped out of the small church, blood dripping from his hands, a pained grimace painted on his face. He had to do it, because the town needed protection. His brother's town and his brother's church needed him to defend it, just like Yemi had needed Eko to step up and take the weight of his possible sins on his own prone shoulders.

He had to kill those intruding men, not to ensure the continued prosperity of the town, but to guarentee increased safety for its citizens.

The children playing ball slowly stilled, and the women turned to look at him.

---

"Do you?" Mr. Eko casually rubbed his chin, feeling less worried in front of this group of scrawny men than he had the night before, deciding which woman to accompany him to his bed. Although his men were outnumbered three to one, by his guestimate, close to sixty or seventy-five percent of these vigilantes were even now starting to seriously requestion their decision to accompany the redshirt.

The red-shirted man did not seem to notice his compratiots weaking sense of morale, though. "Yes!" he insisted. "Your men do nothing but disrupt the natural goodness in our town, and we will not tolerate your actions any longer."

Mr. Eko raised an eyebrow. In his peripheral vision, he saw two of his men step forward, resting thick hands on thicker blades and sawed off shotguns. Eko tilted his head to the side, rolling his shoulders back and forth. "You speak well for an imbecile," Eko admitted, as he dragged his own gun out of its holster on his hip.

The redshirt now took a step back, clutching his stick in two hands now. Already he was almost alone, except for three other men -- two of whom looked related to the redshirt, the fourth looking angrier than any of the others combined. The rest of the group didn't seem brave enough to stand up to Eko and his men; perhaps they didn't understand the real threat Eko posed to them. That was fine with Eko: the less they expected, the easier it was to control them.

---

They didn't understand. Mr. Eko knew that as he looked around the square and saw the disbelief and hatred blooming on the faces there. There hadn't been an option. Mr. Eko knew how these groups worked and knew that things would only get worse and worse for the town's medicine supply. Of course he knew how they worked -- only a desperately short time ago, he led perhaps the most feared gang in the region.

Now things had changed, and he was on the other side. Eko hadn't wanted the alteration, but God had other plans, and now he was trying to do the work presented him here, using the tools he knew. He protected his flock.

---

Mr. Eko shook his head. "You may be the self appointed protector, but we are here now, and we will do what we need to do."

"Need to do? Need to do what? In order to rape our daughters, steal our life's work, and drug our uncles? We don't want --"

The redshirt's angry voice was cut off when the man to Eko's right pulled his gun and shot the red-shirted man right in the head. Eko wasn't happy that his man had taken the initiative and had shot the man without even a slight signal from himself, but that wasn't a large problem. It wasn't as if the man wasn't doomed to die anyway.

Instead, Eko grinned, stretching his lips even wider and showing more of his teeth. He knew he looked something like a jackal, a little like Anansi the spider and a lot like something planning on eating every one of the men in front of him.

The angry man, the one that didn't appear to be related to the now dead redshirt, stepped over the body and started to yell something.

Eko smiled and shot the man in the chest.

---

The woman with the handkerchief on her head caught Eko's eyes and shook her head, her eyes large, sad and understanding.

Mr. Eko lost all sense of accomplishment, his hands falling open and dripping blood onto the steps of the church. He meant to do good.

---

Mr. Eko and his men left a few of the town's men alive, but only a few. Word would spread of Eko's ruthless killing and the fact that he did not accept rebellion. Word would spread.