Notes: Thanks to mrstater for her time, energy and guidance. She really deserves writing credit.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show "Lost". They were created by JJ Abrams and Damon Lindelof and they belong to them, Touchstone, and ABC
There and Back, chapter 1
Waves lapped at Sawyers face, filling his mouth and nose with salt water and slapping him awake. As he sputtered and coughed, he wondered for a moment what the hell was going on, only to be hit by a flood of memories: the raft, the rescue that wasn't a rescue at all, the bullet and the cold ocean knocking him unconscious. He tried to focus, tried to wrap his mind around what happened, but his mind drifted in and out of consciousness. His shoulder throbbed as he clung to debris from the raft. Where were Jin and Michael? Had they survived? All his effort was required, but he turned his head and saw Michael. He, too, clung to waterlogged bamboo, and his eyes were fixed on the horizon as he murmured his son's name over and over again: "Walt, Walt, Walt…" Their dreams of being saved, their ecstasy when the boat first approached were quickly and horrifically dashed. Walt. And Jin - god only knew what happened to him, so much chaos in the dark water after the raft was destroyed. Sawyer's shoulder throbbed again and everything went black.
Ana-Lucia Cortez walked along the beach as she did every morning, ostensibly to find clams or other sources of food, but really to clear her head. Too much togetherness could be tough; she needed time on her own. Kicking an errant stone she broke into a run, warm breezes whipping her hair back. If she blocked things out just enough, she could almost pretend she was still on vacation, skipping another week of drudgery at her job for her own private paradise. Almost.
The reality hit hard, some paradise. Paradise was only paradise if you could find your way home again. And paradise never came with a frightening mechanical mystery monster, as she had named that thing in the jungle that had killed Chris. Not just killed him, ripped him apart. The memory flooded her mind and she ran faster, trying to find her escape, not seeing, just running, faster and faster.
Suddenly Ana found herself sprawling on the wet sand. She whipped her head around and scrambled to her feet, expecting to see that she'd tripped over driftwood. Instead she saw a man, unconscious, clinging to a bundle of bamboo. Was he alive? Moving straggly blond hair away from his neck she felt for a pulse. Thank god she thought, he's alive and his pulse felt was strong.
Scanning the beach, she saw another man, presumably unconscious, further up the shore. She needed help, and dashed back quickly to Base Camp to find Dave and Eric. Just over the hill lay Base Camp – what Chris had always called it. He had been determined to explore the island, hoping to find some way off it, or at least find some way of making their lives there easier. So every morning he would set off into the jungle, always promising to come back to Base camp.
She shook off the memories and shouted for help.
Even after he became conscious, Michael kept his eyes closed. He could hardly believe his was lying on solid ground, or that the sound of the waves, which had lapped around him all night, receded into the distance. Where was he?
Slowly he sat up and opened his eyes. He started at the sight of a number of strangers milling around him. Instantly Michael sprang into action. He jumped to his feet and grabbed the shoulder of the nearest man.
"Who are you?" he yelled. "Where is my son? What did you do with Walt?"
"Try to calm down" Dave said, offering him a drink of water. "Here, take this. Now who is Walt? We found another man, about your age, but noone else."
"You're lying man, what the hell did you do with him?" Michael railed back.
Dave touched is arm, "Seriously, I don't know what you are talking about. I'm sorry. Ana found you this morning, washed up on the beach."
Michael collapsed back on the sand. "Who are you then?"
Ana stepped in. "We're the survivors of Oceanic flight 815."
Michael just stared at her.
Ana smiled, "come on, I'll take you to your friend."
She and Dave led Michael, still too stunned to speak, to the tent Sawyer was resting in.
"I took a look at his shoulder" Dave said. "Looks bad but its only superficial.
Michael looked at Sawyer. He was lying, still unconscious, on a makeshift bed; a white tarp offered some protection from the sun.
"Its okay, I'm an EMT. Not a doctor of course, but I did what I could. He should be okay."
Ana turned to Michael, "So who are you guys? Where did you come from?"
"We're survivors from Oceanic 815. Who the hell are you?" Sawyer had woken up.
There was little sleep for the camp that night. Everyone stayed up far into the night talking, amazed to find out there were other survivors from the doomed flight. There were 23 of them, 24 if you counted Chris.
After a fitful hour or two of sleep, Sawyer found Michael staring at the fire.
Softly he said, "Well, daddy, what do we do now?"
Without looking at him, Michael replied, "We find him. We find Walt."
"And how do you suggest we go about finding him?"
"I don't know, man, I don't know. I've been thinking, though, what I'd like to do is try to find our old beach. We headed north on the raft, but I think we drifted east some. If we head west we may be able to find it.
"Sounds like a plan. What then?"
"I think we need to find John Locke. Something tells me he might be the key to helping me find Walt."
They watched as the camp came to life. Ana and Dave approached the two, bringing some food and water.
"Here, eat something, you'll need your strength if you are going into the jungle." Ana said.
"How did you know what we were planning to do?" Michael asked, gratefully taking some fruit.
"I have my ways," Ana laughed. "Seriously, though, I overheard you talking. Listen, I was talking with Dave. We were wondering if you'd mind if we tagged along? We could use a change of scenery."
"Are you sure you want to go?" Michael asked. "We're not quite certain where it is from here."
Ana nodded. She needed a change in scenery. Dave was quiet, just staring out at the ocean. She knew what he was thinking; he needed to get away from the place where Chris had been killed.
"Great." Sawyer said, "Lets get this show on the road."