Even If I Wanted To

SUMMARY: Prequel to "Understanding"-Sana. Sawyer tries to convince himself that whatever passed between Ana and him was nothing, but when he still can't move on, he may figure out that he "didn't know what he had till it was gone". How Sawyer ended up where he was in the beginning of "Understanding".

Disclaimer: I do not own Lost, Sawyer or Ana, or even the plot. This idea has probably been played out to death, but I hope I can put on my own spin on things.

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"I'm on the brink; I can barely think. With all of these thoughts runnin' through my head."

Sawyer grunted, rolling over and pulling the blanket closer to his freezing body. The rain outside of his tent had been pounding continuously for ten minutes, pelting the tarp and making an annoying patter sound. Thunder rolled across the jungle, and sudden flashes in the sky above the ocean lit up the sleeping camp. It was well into the night, and everyone else was sleeping. Sawyer should have been sleeping, too, but something was keeping him awake.

Giving up on sleep for the moment, Sawyer sat up in his plane seat. The flap over the door of his tent was gently swaying back and forth, letting the spray of cool water cover his "doorstep". A river of muddy sand wove its way into his tent from the outside, making a pool right at his feet. Another crackle of thunder boomed across the beach as lightening streaked across the dark sky, illuminating the harsh waves below.

Sawyer sighed, wishing he could just go back to sleep. His bright blue eyes roamed the tent, his mind blank. It had been blank most of the last few days, ever since they had found the two bodies in the hatch. He wouldn't let himself think about any of the events after that, or the ones that came just before. The hustle and bustle of the last few days had kept his thoughts at bay, but here, at this lonely time of night, they slowly filtered back into his mind. And suddenly, his tent felt too claustrophobic, and he needed, with every painful breath he took, to get out into the open.

"Wonderin' if I did you wrong? No way, I did you wrong. Every night, I try to justify, all the angry things I said. Oh, but I can't take 'em back. No, I can't do that. I was wrong, oh, but now you're gone."

Sawyer stepped into the downpour of freezing water, getting soaked to the bone in a moment. His clothes, a blue dress shirt and jeans that served as his night clothes, were instantly plastered to his muscled body. His socks were drenched, collecting bits of sand around them as if they were calling moths to an open light. His hair hung in clumps, a few stray strands falling over his eyes and gluing themselves to his pale cheeks.

He didn't know where he was going or why, but Sawyer just started to walk. He turned away from the survivors, sleeping peacefully and unaware of the storm that raged on, and towards the wild jungle, that seemed alive in the battle nature was inflicting. The branches of the large trees were whipping around, swaying heavily one way and then another as the howling wind whispered through them. And all of the sudden, it didn't look like the jungle that he knew, but a wild forest, dangerous and unknown.

And while Sawyer started walking deeper into it, his thoughts wandered. His mind kept coming back to the scene in the jungle with Ana. And every time he came back to it, he scoffed and told himself that it didn't matter. They had rolled around in the jungle, desperate for a release, and as it seemed, desperate for his gun. He had flat out refused when she had asked, and now he thought it might have been a mistake. She had been shot by his gun, the one she wanted so bad. Maybe he should have just done as she had requested, but the same thing might have happened again. And he remembered clearly when they were putting back on their clothes, how he had saw her slyly tuck his gun in her back pocket as she shimmied them up her hips. Hey, a gun for some much needed sex. He had let her take it, and now he regretted it. It made it to the top of his regret list of his life, and that was a long list. He pretended that he didn't know why he was bothered so much about it, but it was hard to lie to yourself.

After the tumble in the jungle, Sawyer had put it to the back of his mind, writing it off. But something kept nagging him, even though he tried to ignore it. He had tried to occupy his mind, and read the last new thing he had. So when Doc had put a gun in his face and threatened him, Sawyer had momentarily forgotten that what he was reaching for in the back of his pants was not there anymore. And when he had realized it, Sawyer let go. He had called her some bad names, cursing and mumbling under his breath. And sure, after they had found her, sitting cold on the couch down in the hatch, he had felt bad for saying all of that stuff now that she was dead.

He had tried to brush it off, but it bothered him more than he cared to admit. It got under his skin, annoying him the more he tried to forget it. And he did feel sorry for all of the bad things he had said about her, but now it was too late. He should have been able to move on, but he was caught up on something. He couldn't get past the emotions bubbling up to the surface all of the sudden; emotions he didn't even know he had. And all he could think about was, "She's dead now. She's gone."

"An' I can't hide what I feel inside, an' just stop lovin' you, even if I wanted to. I can't hold on, but lettin' go, is something I can't do. Is something I can't do, even if I wanted to."

Sawyer had been walking for a good ten minutes, as the rain and thunder continued to come down. Overcome with exhaustion, he sunk to his knees, balling his fists and pressing them into the soft ground next to his thighs. He hadn't slept for the last two days, at least, and the exhaustion had finally caught up with him. He kept repeating in his head, over and over again as if it were on a loop, "It was just a screw, it didn't mean anything. And she only wanted the gun, so it's not like she had any feelings for me."

He raised his wary head, and chocked back a sob as he saw where he was. The dense trees had tampered off, leaving grass and a winding river through it. As far as the eye could see, orange fruits that had hung on the trees above littered the ground, covering almost every patch of grass by the river rushing by. The ones closest to Sawyer were ripe, mushy and bulging and decaying on the jungle floor.

The steady fall of rain flooded the small river, raising the level until it spilled out over the already wet ground. The water rushed out like a fountain from the overflowing river, spreading slowly across the ground as it crept its way towards Sawyer's fingers.

There was no denying that this was Sawyer's mango-picking spot, where Ana had first asked him for a gun, and where she had attacked him, which had lead to rolling around on the jungle floor. A cliff looking out over the river loomed overhead, standing like an unmovable stone, cold and foreboding. The wind was carrying the strong scent of the orange mangos over the water, the smell hanging in the air.

All Sawyer could smell were the mangos, and all he could see was a lost memory. The hazy wall of falling drops seemed to disappear for him, giving him a peep-hole into that sunny scene a few days ago, where he wasn't worried about anything. He could still see her long black hair being pulled from its ponytail, as they clawed at each other like animals. He could still feel the stinging of his lips as they had kissed each other like there was no tomorrow, and for Ana, although she didn't know it, it had been. There had been an undeniable spark between them, that had fueled them on and grown into a blazing bonfire right before their eyes. And all through that time, the mangos had carried a sweet fragrance that blended with the smell of sex and sweat, and had left him feeling dizzy and strangely happy. And as his memory replayed this scene, all he could smell was the overpowering stench of the mangos.

He could see it perfectly, and every detail that caught his eye only made his heart hurt worse. He turned away, feeling sick, but realized there was nowhere to run. There was nowhere to go, even if they were off the island. Because this memory, this feeling that had came from nowhere, would follow him around like a sick puppy dog, wanting attention and someone to love it. He harshly told himself that he shouldn't care, that she had not been his in the first place. But he couldn't let go of the memory of her; when they had flirted on the way back to his side of the island, how they had rolled around on the ground for a gun and for dominance, and how he had been the only one at her funeral (except maybe the tailies) that had actually been close to the real Ana-Lucia. And those memories weren't bad, not like the rest of his past. Even though it still pained him, the memories eased him in a way he didn't think possible. And he found that he didn't want to get rid of the memories, even if that also insured the removal of the bad ones. And that thought made a small half-smile grace his worn face.

"All the times I sat and watched you cry, when I should have held you close. Made sure that you know,
how much I cared, but I was never there. I was wrong, an' now you've moved on."

Sawyer slowly stood back up, wavering on unsteady feet as he looked around at this blissful paradise and mournful site. Suddenly, being here was wrong, like stamping on a serene, holy spot that should never be stepped on. He made his way back into the trees, glancing once more at the empty spot.

He remembered so well what had happened after their momentary loss of control. His hand had brushed lightly down her stomach, lower onto her hips, when a sudden snag had caught his attention. A bullet hole wound had stopped his downward journey, but looking into her eyes, the slight shrug of her bare shoulders told him she didn't want to talk about it. There had been such pain in her eyes, the same pain he was sure was reflected in his eyes when he read his letter. Hell, he had secret scars himself, and it wasn't his business to pry. Looking back at this moment, fingering his own lingering gun wound scar, he scoffed. Now she had one just like him.

After the sex, when she was tugging back on her clothes, he swore he could hear her silently sobbing, and as she turned, he could have sworn the light had caught the shimmering tears running down her face. But he hadn't done anything, knowing that it wasn't his place to care. And a second later, when she had felt him watching her, she had turned on the tough-guy act, threatening his life and limbs if he told.

It seemed ironic now that he had almost cried, too. No, not during or after sex, but when he was telling Jack about what had happened. Sawyer hadn't cried since he was eight and had seen both of his parents lying there, dead. But the memory of Ana's fighting spirit, and everything that had happened, had finally caught up with him. No, there hadn't been a big show, with bawling and hugs and sympathy. He didn't deserve it anyway. But he had sniffed, trying to keep it all inside. But he knew the dam holding back his emotions was straining under the pressure, and the cracks that were appearing told him it was about ready to break.

When Jack had asked him why Sawyer was telling him this, he had smiled faintly at the memory of Ana saying she would kill him if he told. He had said the same damn thing to her when she had hit him on the other side of the island. But she was gone now, and she couldn't come back and kill him or haunt him, although who knew on this island. It didn't matter now, though.

He had tried to act normal the rest of the day, when Libby was still dying, but it was hard. He had always put up a front, but this just felt strained. He didn't have the heart to flirt with Freckles, and he found that he no longer felt the need.

And now, standing just outside the ring of that happiness when none of it mattered except the hear and now, listening to that same mesmerizing river rustle through, Sawyer felt for the first time, truly lost.

"I can't hide what I feel inside. An' just stop lovin' you, even if I wanted to. I can't hold on, but lettin' go,
is something I can't do. Is something I can't do, even if I wanted to. Even if I wanted to."

So Sawyer wandered through the jungle, not sure where he was going or why. The sun was just starting to cast rays of golden sunlight onto the jungle as it rose. The storm that had raged all through the night had disappeared, leaving a calm peacefulness in its wake as the early morning birds started to interrupt the silence.

And Sawyer found himself at the site of the graves, resolve about ready to break but the memories keeping him company. He sat down by her grave, looking hopelessly around, not sure what he was waiting for. Maybe he was just waiting for someone who could understand the pain of what he was going through. Just for someone to understand.

"Yeah, I can't hide what I feel inside, (What I feel inside). An' just stop lovin' you, even if I wanted to.
I can't hold on, but lettin' go, (Lettin' go.), is something I can't do. Is something I can't do, even if I wanted to. Even if I wanted to."

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YAY! I know you guys liked "Understanding", and I had a lot of ideas for the same kind of plot. So, I gave you guys a prequel, and a sequel is coming that deals with what Sawyer saw at the end of "Understanding". Actually, the sequel is NOT a song fic, though I'm sure I'll put some kind of lyrics into it somewhere. Also, the sequel will be multi-chaptered, with an actual action plot, but of course it will be emotional. Everything I do has some kind of emotional baggage. It will also have more characters in it, with more ships! Hope you guys won't mind!

A lot of people said how much they loved the details in "Understanding", so I hope I did it justice in this one, too. Did you notice how I connected this story with that story? Sorry, I'm just so excited...I've never wrote a prequel/sequel to one of my stories before. The river that he found himself at was the same river, and I mentioned the cliff that appears in "Understanding". I also love the end, that leads right into "Understanding". Sorry so much stuff was in passive flashback; I read somewhere that that method doesn't keep anyone's attention.