Fall Into The Light (PG-13), Oooh, pretty update!!! ^.^! Ch. 14 up!

[GlowFish]

Title: Fall Into The Light
Author: GlowFish
Fandom: Lost
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ana Lucia/Sawyer, Ana Lucia/Sayid
Summary: Life certainly is not what it was twenty-four hours ago
Warnings: Mostly mild swearing; I’ll up the rating if it gets any worse. I don’t know Ana Lucia’s mother’s real name, so sorry for that mistake; Totally un-beta’d so all the mistakes are mine. Feel free to comment. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows. Thanks!
Disclaimer: If I owned Lost, d’you think this story would even be necessary?

***

"So the world’s still out there?"
--Desmond Hume to John Locke, S2E2: Adrift

I.

"I'm sorry."

Whispered words of pain before a loud, earth-shattering pop. And then she felt it, something hot and metallic burrowing into her chest with the unrelenting mindlessness of a thing built to maim, built to kill. One moment of agony, one moment of pain. Louder pops. A gasp of surprise. A body slumping to the floor somewhere beyond her, but the world was already growing dark, and getting darker by the minute.

"Oh God."

Moments ticking off into moments ticking off into eternity. Darkness unending, surrounding her on all sides, drawing closer and closer as light faded from her eyes. One moment, then two and the pain dissipated into numbness and then into nothing. Nothing all at. Cold. Chill. And nothing.

"I'm so sorry."

And then her world went black.

~*~*~

Eyes open. Eyes closed. Brief catches of memories that fade into darkness. Voices.

Ana, hold on!

Amber lights. Red flashes, and the glaring whirl of blue. A man in white speaking into a walkie-talkie and the pulse of a heart monitor going berserk.

Ana! Hold on! Just-Just hold on!

An explosion. Wind whirling like the mind boggling, dizzying topsy-turvy world of a Dorothy being transported to Oz. A whirlwind of confusion. Screams. An airplane crash landing, and water rushing into lungs. Going under and the lulling stillness and silence of an ocean swallowing hot metal, plane engines and people alike.

Hold on! Please!

The whir of an ambulance and the paddles of a defibrillator. Clear! Shock. And a pulse. Life. Life fading. Men in white, and a man talking on his walkie-talkie. Man down. Man down. We need assistance here. Man down. Blood. Blood trickling from veins, potent red waters of life. Man down. Amber lights. Red flashes, and the glaring whirl of blue.

Ana! Ana-Lucia, can you hear me?

Hot beaches. Glowing sand. Whispers. Whispers. Strangers in a jungle world, on a mysterious island. Fear. The first night, devils from the thicket come, wearing the masks of the faces of men, and only the good ones were taken.

Ana, please wake up! Wake up!

Doctors crowded around. Cops in blue, in uniform, in civvies. Her mother weeping in the waiting room. Heart monitor stopping. Starting again. Stopping. Starting again.

Ana...Ana, please...

Hold on.

Hold on.

Eyes closed. Eyes opening. Eyes closed.

Eyes closed...

~*~*~

When next she woke it was not to the rusted roof of an underground hatch, but to the harsh fluorescence of blinding white hospital lights. There was pain in the center of her chest, as if she had been hit by a freight train. She gave a sharp gasp, shut her eyes and waited the pain out.

"Ana?" A voice floated to her ears from the world beyond. Soft, soothing, familiar. Her eyes flew open and she beheld the face of...

"Danni?"

His wide mouth broke into a relieved grin. He looked somewhere over his shoulder and called," She's awake. Thank God, she's awake."

She lifted her head slightly to look. Her mother and her partner, Big Mike, were coming into her hospital room with equal looks of relief etched into the tired wrinkles and creases of worry. She frowned and tried to sit up quickly, a question of alarm on her lips, but before she could utter her confusion, pain rushed from her chest to her brain, frazzling her nerves with agony. She hissed in pain, hand going to her chest and finding bandages tightly wound about her ribcage and breasts.

"Jeez, Ann," Danni exclaimed, hands reaching out to grab hold of her shoulders and push her back down into bed. "You've been shot. Lie down." She looked up then and recoiled, hissing again in pain and glared at him with eyes heavy and heated with pain, confusion and a touch of anger.

"Ana-?" Her mother stepped forward, brow creased in confusion. "Meja, are you alright?"

"What's--" she struggled to speak, but her voice came out coarse as if it hadn't been used in a long while. She cleared her throat and tried again. "What's-What's going on? Why are you here? Where am I?"

Her partner swore as her mother tried to approach her, glancing at Danni as she did, before turning to her daughter and holding her hands out in a placating gesture.

"Ana--"

"What the hell is going on?!" Ana Lucia cried, clutching her chest as a spike of renewed pain flared. She winced and backed away from her mother's hands, glaring at all of the room's other occupants with the predatory look of a caged animal. Her eyes darted this was and that, seeing only one exit. The door. Resting behind her mother--mother? -- Danni, and her partner.

"Annie, meja, you were shot," her mother said quietly, grief evident in her tone.

"That bastard kid," her partner exclaimed. "I wish I could've gotten there sooner, Al. I should've gotten there sooner."

"We almost lost you," Danni said just as quietly as her mother. He looked at her, his brown eyes wide, haunted with dark rings, tell-tale signs of a sleepless night.

She shook her head, confused. "I-I don't understand. The plane crash. The island. I was shot. I was shot."

Her mother shot her a funny look. "Ana? What plane crash? Do you know where you are?"
Ana looked around, face clouding with uncertainty. Clearly, she was in a hospital. The linoleum floors reflected the fluorescent lights, and the room had the sterile feel of cleanliness that she had always hated about hospitals. But she didn't know how she had gotten here, wherever here exactly was. The last thing she remembered...The last thing she remembered...

"Where's Michael? And-And--" she frowned, struggling. A grey fog was starting to cover her brain, and exact details were becoming sketchy--"Libby? Where's Libby? Is she alright? Michael shot me, and then...then..."

"Michael?!" Danni and her mother exclaimed at the same time.

"Was that the kid's name?" Mike growled, his hand rubbing his right thigh where his gun usually was holstered.

"You spoke with him?" Her mother asked in surprise. Ana shook her head emphatically.

"No, No. The island. We were on the island. The plane had crashed and we...we..." Ana's voice trailed off as confusion clouded her mother, Danni's and Mike's faces.

"What-What exactly do you remember, Ana?" Danni asked cautiously.

Ana looked from one face to the other as her brain struggled to piece together the memories that were starting cloud over.

"A plane crash. We-I was on Flight eight-eight fifteen, and we-I was on my way back to Los Angeles. We crashed." Ana frowned. "I was there, with the other survivors of the plane for ninety days. We crashed. Three months. There were these Others, and they took people. Took the good ones. Left the rest of us. I-we-found other survivors. And I-I-I-I was shot. I was shot. And Libby. Shot. In the H-hatch. I was shot." Her voice took on a hysterical note, and her mother stepped forward once again to comfort her daughter. Ana Lucia leapt back, crying out as her chest flared with a vicious stab of pain.

"St-stay back!" her voice was shaking with pain. "Just-Just stay back. What the hell is going on? Why aren't I dead? I was shot. Michael shot me, and...and now, I'm here. And where the hell is here?!"

"Just calm down, Ann," Danni said gently, trying to calm her. "Just calm down. It's all right. Your brain is just trying to process the trauma."

"Trauma? TRAUMA?!" She laughed bitterly, then winced in pain as every drawn breath sent waves of agony to her brain. "I was shot! I was shot by Michael. Where's Jack? WHERE AM I?"
"You're in the Intensive care ward at St Sebastian’s Hospital in Downtown Los Angeles, Ms. Cortez, and could you please keep it down. There are other patients."

Ana stared in shock as her doctor came into her room with fake cheer etched into the lines of his face. The bottom dropped out of her stomach as very real fear laced its way up her spine. Her mother turned to the doctor first with a relieved look, then Danni and then her partner.

"Doctor, thank God, you're here," her mother said, the relief evident in her voice. "She's-She's not in her right mind."

"Is it the shock, doc?" Mike asked, worried. Danni nodded and as one her mother, boyfriend and partner looked to the doctor plaintively. The doctor's smile looked phony to Ana Lucia as she tried to edge away. But there was nowhere to turn, nowhere to go, and the doctor's eyes darted to her with a cold glare that froze her in her place.

"Doctor?"

The man turned back to a very worried Maria Cortez; she apparently had not noticed the glare sent her daughter's way or had misinterpreted it. He smiled his phony smile again.

"No need to worry," he said with a saccharine sweetness to his tone. "Just let me have a word with her."

Her mother looked doubtful and cast a worried glance back at her daughter. Ana pleaded with her mother with her eyes, Don't leave me. Don't leave me alone with him.

The older woman turned back to the doctor. "I don't think--"

"It's shock, Mrs. Cortez. Shock from her...situation. Please. It'll only take a minute."

Maria Cortez was doubtful again, but the doctor flashed her another saccharine smile and motioned to Danni and Mike.

"Please escort, Mrs. Cortez to the waiting area. I'll be out there in one moment. I promise."
Danni nodded, and Ana would've cursed him if the pain in her chest weren't sending wave after wave of agony to her brain. Instead, she glared daggers at him as he and her partner escorted her mother out into the hall, towards the waiting room. The door to her room closed with a thunk that sounded of finality.

And then she was alone.

With him.

"Well, Ana Lucia Cortez, you had a pretty adventurous night, didn't you?"

The doctor turned, and Ana Lucia was face to face with Henry Gale.

~*~*~

Author's Note: Okay, so what do you think? It was a while beofre I could even post a thing like this because quite frankly the damn S2 pissed me off. So, I decided what the hell, why don't I do something to bring her back. Remember, every time you review an angel gets its wings.

[junior fan]

uh wow that was totaly unique i was expecting jack for a moment hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

[GlowFish]

Thanks! I was actually going to make that Jack, but then I realized...Jack is a spinal surgeon and I was all like, "Well, damn...that's not going to work..."

Gale was a twist, really... *grins*

[midnight riot]

ooooh, I like this. very original idea, and your writing's fantastic...I love the use of description in that second part, before she wakes up...that was a really fantastic part. Great job, and I can't wait for more.

[GlowFish]

Thanks so much, and I checked out that LVS3 vid on you profile page...dude...seriously, that is awesomeness!

[midnight riot]

thank you, sweetie!

[GlowFish]

you're welcome!

[GlowFish]

Title: Fall Into The Light
Author: GlowFish
Fandom: Lost
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ana Lucia/Sawyer, Ana Lucia/Sayid
Summary: Life certainly is not what it was twenty-four hours ago
Warnings: Mostly mild swearing; I’ll up the rating if it gets any worse. I don’t know Ana Lucia’s mother’s real name, so sorry for that mistake; Totally un-beta’d so all the mistakes are mine. Feel free to comment. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows. Thanks!
Disclaimer: If I owned Lost, d’you think this story would even be necessary?

***

"So the world’s still out there?"
--Desmond Hume to John Locke, S2E2: Adrift

II.


She didn't like the way he was looking at her. A predatory look, like a hunter that hasn't eaten for days. Ana's hands flexed involuntarily, and she wished desperately that she had a gun or a stick or knife with which to injure the man with.

He hadn't moved from his spot in front of the door, just stared at her with that look in his eyes, and she could feel the tendrils of fear coiling around her brain and rooting frantic butterflies in her stomach. She met his hungry look with wariness.

"Standing there will do wonders for the pain, Ms. Cortez, I'm sure, but it has always been in medical experience, and this is really just a suggestion, that lying down always alleviates physical discomfort," he said in a matter-of-fact tone that almost caught Ana off-guard. She blinked, glared, but didn't move a muscle. He watched her, amusement creeping across his features.
"Alright. Suit yourself." He turned to the door with a carelessness that she was sure wasn't feigned and picked her chart from the chart holder nailed to the wall. He turned back to her, but looked at her chart, his eyes brows rising and falling at what he read.

"Multiple guns shot wounds to the chest, bruising to the lungs and three broken ribs. " He looked up. Smiled. "Will this convince you to lie down, Ms. Cortez. I wouldn't want that mother of yours to sue the Hospital for patient neglect."

"You leave my mother out of this, Gale," she growled. His smile was wan.

"Finally the living statue speaks," he said with false cheer. "Now, the real clincher is will you hold still for me to do an exam?"

"What are you going here, Gale?"

His look was innocent. "I'm a doctor, Ana Lucia. What else would I be doing?" He motioned to the bed. "Now, sit."

"You know what I mean," she growled. He paused.

"Do I?" He looked thoughtful as he crossed the room to a drawer containing a few medical supplies and, putting her chart down, pulled out a pair of latex gloves. "I can't honestly say--" He pulled one glove on and let it pop against his skin. Ana jumped; he grinned wickedly--"I know what you're implying."

Her glare was heated. "Oh, you know. What am I doing here? Where is here and why am I not on the island?"

He shrugged and pulled on the other glove. He turned to her. He answered, "You're here because you were shot. You're here because you sustained serious injuries after being shot. You're here--" and the look in his eyes went blank--" because your child was murdered."

That small declaration hurt almost as much as the pain in her chest did. Her face clouded over with rage and anger, and as Henry Gale approached her, she hissed in warning. He paused in his approach momentarily, stared at her with that blank look that scared her more than his look of false cheer, before closing the distance that separated her from him. She reached out to stop him as he came near, hand free hand balling into a tight, white knuckled fist and swung with all her might. But he caught it easily as her chest screamed in pain, and she cried out in agony, his other arm moving in to wrap around her waist as she slumped against him, tears dancing at the edges of her eyes.

"Let go of me," she growled. Henry Gale chuckled.

"I don't think so, Ana Lucia," he said brightly, cheer evident in his voice once again. "You're going to sit on that bed like a good little girl and let me examine you, aren’t you? Yes you are. If not, I'll make your life a living hell for as long as I have you." And squeezed the arm around her waist, crushing her ribcage. She cried out in pain as wounds not yet healed scrapped against bandages and bone.

He sat her on the hospital bed carefully, and she glared at him hatefully as he examined her.
"It is a terrible tragedy, though," he said thoughtfully as he worked. Ana tried to drown him out. "That baby of yours. Would've been a real, handsome boy."

Ana's gut twisted, and she tried not to cry out he hit a particularly sensitive spot. What came out instead was a small whimper. Henry Gale ignored her and continued," He would've had his mother's stubborn streak, that's for damn sure--"Ana grimaced--"And his father's determination."
She wanted to kill him, rip him limp from limp, so that that sweet saccharine voice of his would be silenced, and she wouldn't have to hear him talk. Wouldn't have to hear him speak, reminding her of the past. Or the present. She frowned as he moved her right arm, winced and hissed in pain.
Was this the past? Or was it the present? And why was Henry Gale here? He should've been on the island. He should've been millions of miles a way from here, and for that matter, so should she. All she could remember was being shot by Michael, and then her world going dark, and then she woke up here, in this bed, in the hospital, a place she had thought she had left behind years ago. Was this all fake?

Ana hissed in pain as Henry Gale prodded her ribs with diligent fingers. If the pain was any indication, then this had to be real. But then what about the island? What about Jack and Sawyer? What about Eko, the kids, Shannon, Sayid? Was all that a dream? A nightmare?
Henry Gale stood, finally finished, and there a gleam in his eye that didn't sit well with Ana at all. Her instincts, the ones that had echoed in her blood like an ancestral memory, the instincts that had been honed in the Academy, were screaming at her to run. Once long ago--or perhaps not so long ago?--she had not listened to them at all, and had paid dearly for it. She had sworn to herself that she would never ignore those instincts again. He knew something, knew what was going on, and is she were stronger she would've beaten the answers out of him. Instead, she glared at Gale suspiciously, and his saccharine grin returned.

"Well, Ana Lucia, for a woman who was shot very recently, you're doing better than expected," he said, ignoring her glare. "You should be able to go home in a few days." He turned, taking off the gloves and threw them away in the trash depository near the medical supply drawer. He retrieved her medical chart and continued, "I'll just go inform you mother, Officer Regis, and Mr. Santivanez of your progress."

He headed towards the door, but Ana stopped him, calling his name. He turned to her with that blank look returning, but she--despite the cold chills running up and down her spine--asked him, "Where are they?"

She didn't say Jack or Locke or Eko or Sayid or Kate or Rose, or any of the others, but his blank look faded and the grin returned, haunting and chilling. He answered simply, "Oh, they're here. You'll see." Then turned away and headed out of the room. Ana Lucia lay back in her bed, a dead weight settling in her stomach and apprehension lodged in her throat.

***

Author's Note: I'm sort of at work and there is like only paperwork to do, and so when I get bored with that, I type, and I type fast. So this is the end result. Once again:

Remember, kids, every time you review, an angel gets its wings.

[midnight riot]

lol, wow, you're fast. I still love it, though. this is awesome. creepy!doctor!Henry rocks; I love the way this is written.

"They're here''....oooh, now I'm curious. Again, can't wait for more!

[GlowFish]

yeah, it's an incredily slow day, and all I've got to do is catch up on paperwork, but it's all so dang tedious, that I get bored and need to take like 30 min breaks in between, and what better way to break then to break and write and eat chips and soda.

LOL!

[midnight riot]

LOL, yeah, I know what you mean.

I work at Sam Goody, and the only business we get is from 80-year-old senior citizens, cause we're right near a retirement home. and how many times a day does an 80-year-old need to buy dvds or cds? So yes, it's a very boring shift for me, so I sit there and play minesweeper on the computer for most of it, lol.

[GlowFish]

LOL, mindsweeper...coolness! I'm almost done with like chapter three because I really type that fast, not to say that I won't misspell alot of stuff on the way though. D'you think it'd be good to post this on the Lost-forums too? I'm not sure if they're Ana friendly over there.

[GlowFish]

Title: Fall Into The Light
Author: GlowFish
Fandom: Lost
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ana Lucia/Sawyer, Ana Lucia/Sayid
Summary: Life certainly is not what it was twenty-four hours ago
Warnings: Mostly mild swearing; I’ll up the rating if it gets any worse. I don’t know Ana Lucia’s mother’s real name, so sorry for that mistake; Totally un-beta’d so all the mistakes are mine. Feel free to comment. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows. Thanks!
Disclaimer: If I owned Lost, d’you think this story would even be necessary?

***

"So the world’s still out there?"
--Desmond Hume to John Locke, S2E2: Adrift

III.

It was three days before she left the hospital, three days of agony in Ana Lucia's opinion, and not the physical kind of agony even though there were heaps of that too. No, it was mental agony plaguing her as more and more she realized, she was losing details in her memories. Just little things really: the way Bernard looked when he used to silently muse about his wife while the tailies survived on their lonely, but dangerous side of the island; Eko and that quiet strength that radiated from soul and gave courage to anyone he spoke to; Libby and her boundless depth of understanding; the way Jack looked when he was concentrating particularly hard on something that had captured his attention; the way Sawyer seemed to glow with absolute abandon, all cares and worries forgotten when he was in the throws of passion. But...those images were starting to fade, starting to disappear underneath the gray blanket that was clouding her mind, snatching away everything of substance. She couldn't understand it.

Had it all been a dream? Had she been trapped in some kind of limbo between the waking world and the world of dreams, between life and death, imagining these people, these lives, these dramas? Had it all been fake?

She looked out the window of Danni's SUV as he prattled on about some new gig he got, working construction for a company named Widmore, down near East LA, how much it was paying and whether or not he'd have enough money to be able to move them into a larger apartment. She let his words wash over her, not really paying attention. She wanted to care about his work, she wanted to care about his ideas about the new apartment, but as she stared out the window, eyes lighting on sun dappled lawns and children playing hopscotch on neighborhood corners, on gaggles of old ladies talking boisterously in front of a beauty parlor and a small group of teenage kids smoking near a stop light, she wondered if this world was even real too.

Was she lying dead somewhere, underneath the sifting, shifting weight of beach sand as an ocean roared somewhere beyond her shallow grave? Were there people weeping over her and was her corpse locked in the first throes of rigor mortis? Was she dreaming corpse dreams, and this place, with its old ladies and smoking teens, playing kids and sunny lawns--this place--the manufacture of electrical impulses finally shutting down in her expired brain?

"Ana? Ana Lucia?"

She turned with a start as Danni looked at her strangely. He asked, "Did I lose you for a second?"

She tried to smile, failed and said, "Just...Just being out of that hospital..."

Danni nodded wisely, smiled himself. "I do suppose it's a bit overwhelming..." He paused, a doubtful look crossing his features. "Are you-Are you--"he hesitated. Took a deep breath--"Are you thinking about it? Him? The baby?"

Ana froze for a moment, then relaxed, turned away and stared out the window as they passed an old man, haggard and worn, all his worldly possessions piled in a haphazard heap in a shopping cart, standing on a corner waiting for the light to change. She locked gazes with him for a second; he grinned a snag-o-toothed grin and waved, she waved slightly back.

"Ana?"

"I wasn't really--" she stopped, started again. "I wasn't really thinking about anything at all."

"Oh." Danni was silent for a moment as he made a turn down a street to their right. Ana turned back to her window gazing.

Truth was she hadn't thought about the baby at all. It wasn't that she didn't care, it wasn't that she had forgotten--she hadn't, and could still feel that ache, that gnawing ache of emptiness in her womb, in her heart, in her mind, that knowing that she had had life growing inside of her, foreign and alien, but still her's, still a piece and part of her--she just remembered a different time, a different life in which Danni no longer existed and her baby was dead and buried, and all that mattered underneath the daily goings about of wrecked castaways was survival. Part of her was still wrapped in the thralls of the crazy, dangerous life, still remembering instances, still feeling as if, in the next minute, whispers would swirl from underneath bushes and travel on the backs of the wind and strangers would come rushing out to snatch up the ... "good ones."

"You know," Danni said interrupting her thoughts. "We don't have to go home yet."

She thought about it for a second then shook her head. "Nah, take me home, cowboy. I could use some rest on real sheets."

Danni grinned. "Sure thing, querida."

~*~*~

The apartment was cleaner than she remembered it, and it smelled like spearmint and pine. Danni bustle around as she entered slowly, feeling the doorframe for a moment, settling herself in moment, wanting to feel the wood and make sure it was real. For months, she'd never even had so much as a welcome mat to step on. She breathed, gripped the doorframe one last time then stepped into the threshold.

Everything was as it had been before, had been as she remembered from years ago. The furniture, a nice set of earthy tones--Danni's idea, not her's--complimented the off-white color of the walls, giving the room a feeling of spaciousness, but also comfort so that she didn't feel boxed in nor did she feel like a lonely island in a vast empty sea; Danni always knew how to find the happy median in-between. He was bustling in the kitchen now, opening and closing cabinet doors, sifting through the refrigerator and freezer. She left him to his own doing and wandered around the apartment.

It all looked the same; she didn't know what she had been expecting. Perhaps something, anything, to tell her that this world was a lire, and the one that she just came from, the one with mangoes and a temperate climate was the real world. In that other place, and that other time, she had come home to this apartment to find Danni packing up his things, a look of set resignation on his face as he told her it was over, that he couldn't deal with her and her problems, that he'd had enough. She remembered yelling at him, betrayed, telling him that he didn't lose something like she had, that he didn't feel the agony that she felt every day, like she was a dead corpse walking. He'd left her then, in an angry huff, never looking back when his car tore out of the apartment complex, going on to his new life.

She wondered what made this world so different. What was making Danni stay? What was making him act the way that he was? She looked around again, and saw where they had set up a table filled with framed pictures of his family, her family and pictures of him and her in various stages of happiness. Valentines day, Christmas, New Years and Fourth of July, she picked up a particular picture with he and her at a friend's party--faces red as cherries and smiling, insanely drunk--some time ago, maybe even just last year--this reality's time?--where lights had been flashing in a cacophony of reds, blues, greens, hot pinks and oranges, blurs of people in the background. She studied each face curiously, trailing a finger lightly down the picture frame's edge. Suddenly, her finger stopped and she stared wide-eyed as her gaze fixed on a face, a familiar face in a frozen crowd of strangers.

Rugged was the only way to describe him, rugged with a sly grin and deep brown eyes, hair falling about his face in lank brown locks. He held a drink and in the picture had clearly been talking to the bombshell beside him, but had turned right when the photographer yelled, "Cheese!" And had flashed that sly grin.

Ana nearly dropped the frame.

"Ana!"

She looked up startled as Danni came over, face awash with concern. "I called you, like, three times. You alright."

She thrust the picture at him, ignoring his question. "Who's that in the picture? I mean, not who, but when--where--why was HE at that party?"

Danni stared at her for a long moment, a peculiar look coming into his eye, but he looked at the man in the picture that she was pointing at and shrugged.

"Some friend of Carlita's," he replied. "She invited him over last year. Some investor or salesman or something from Tennessee or Georgia, I don't know. Why do you ask?"

She pulled the picture back and stared long and hard at the man’s face. "I know him."

Danni frowned. "Huh?"

"I.KNOW.HIM." Ana said, jabbing her finger at the picture. "Sawyer. Sawyer's his name."

"How d'you--?"

"He was on the--" Ana looked up as Danni got that peculiar look in his eyes again. She shook her head.

"He just...He just looks familiar."

"Yeah, from the party." Danni took the picture away from her and set it down on the table then he took her hands in his own. "You should go lie down. I'll make dinner."

Ana stared at him for a moment, long and hard. He looked away, releasing her hands and turning back to the kitchen. "Go lay down, Ana."

She nodded, still staring at him, edging towards the bedroom. She glanced back at the picture once more, catching that conman's sly grin and locking it in her memory.

She made a mental note before disappearing into the bedroom altogether: Tomorrow, she was going to contact their old friend, Carlita.

***

Author's Note: Okay, so this is like the last bit that I'll be able to add for today anyway, but don't worry more will come *winks* because I'm living in that happy place called 'Denial' where Ana hasn't died and she gets two of the island's sexiest hunks to herself! w00t!

Oh...yeah, and Kate dies...

*prances off*

[Kat]

Amazing, I love this story. I can't wait to see what happens when she runs into all the others from the island. This is getting so good. And Kate dies? w00t! I absolutly love this. Can't wait for more, great job!

[skadi]

i LOVE this fic

update soon

and sana all the way*