Murder Plus Whiskey Equals Love by Teenage Anomaly You take the breath right out of me
So sacrifice yourself
And let me have what's left
I know that I can find
A fire in your eyes
I'm goin all the way
Get away, please
you left a hole where my heart should be
You've gotta fight just to make it through
Cause I will be the death of you
"Good going, Ana," she grunted harshly to herself, her entire body heaving as she sharpened a stick with a dull knife. She reached up to push some sweaty hair out of her dark eyes, and with that movement, she saw that damn man standing by the ocean. She glowered at him, more angry at herself than anyone else, and then went back to sharpening her stick.
"Yeah, of course you go for the guy who's girlfriend you killed. Just like you. Bitch."
---
Ana Lucia Cortez was not, and had never been, a particularly welcoming girl. Even when she was a child, she had driven people away with frank statements and blunt observations. Some sick freaks (like Danny, she thought) seemed to like it. Most people gave her a wide berth and tried to pretend they didn't see what she was capable of scrawled in her eyes.
She hated it. She hated it, but she couldn't seem to stop it. The words crashed out of her mouth without ever going through her brain, words that she'd given herself no permission to think.
When that happened (more often then not, these days) she wanted to hit herself in the forehead. But she never did. She never let them, whomever she was emotionally destroying, see anything but an icy exterior and hard, cold intelligence.
Right now, though, she sincerely wished she was a little warmer.
"You been crying, or do you always look like that?"
The Iraqi with the stunningly beautiful eyes looked up at her, or, more accurately, through her. He didn't ever seem to be seeing her, not really. In fact, the only sign that betrayed he had seen her was a slight tightening around those eyes.
Ana wanted to literally shove her foot in her mouth, but she doubted that would make him think any more of her.
He didn't dignify her idiotic comment with a reply (not that she had expected him too) and looked back down at the radio he was tampering with.
"How are you feeling?" he asked her. She winced, a hand unconsciously going to her chest.
She should have died.
She could have sworn that she did die. Funny, though. She felt more alive now then she had since… since forever, really. Colors were brighter, everything seemed funnier, people were more bearable… and he, Sayid, shown like a star in the night.
Her heart flipped over a couple of times as he looked up, black eyes meeting blacker eyes.
She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of her tent.
"You wanna get something to drink?"
For a second his mouth twitched and his eyes softened. "Is there a bar I didn't know about?"
She laughed, a quick, almost harsh sound, unnatural in her mouth that was so used to frowning.
"Nah. But I stole most of the alcohol cart from Sawyer." She glanced back, across the sunny beach, to where the Southerner was striding across the beach, his long, lanky body almost flowing over the sand. He glanced over to see them, gave Ana a smile that looked genuine but awkward on his harsh face, then saluted Sayid with two fingers. Ana turned back to Sayid, an almost evil grin on her face.
"You won't miss it for a while," she said, and this time, Sayid's face broke into a full grin.
"It's a date."
--
"A date. Holy shit, Ana, how the hell did you get a date," swore Ana, her words contrasting with the wide grin on her face. She was staring intently into a dirty section of glass she had in her tent. She shook her fingers in her hair, then smooth it back out again. She bared her teeth at her reflection and put a thin lair of mascara on her already thick eyelashes. She took a deep breath, trying to control the giddiness inside her.
"God, girl, you've gone soft."
-
It started with a gun.
Ever since she was a kid, she'd had a fascination with the gun that was always at her mother's hip. It looked out of place on her feminine body… but then Ana was grown up, with a gun on her hip too, and the thing was, it belonged there. Without a gun at her side… she looked wrong.
It ended with a gun. When she stared into Michael's pleading eyes, stared down the barrel of the shaking gun, she felt something close inside her. When she felt the shot, something fell out of her heart. She swam between places for hours, for two days. And when she woke up, with a hole in her chest and a slightly softer disposition, she couldn't help but feel like it was the beginning of something completely new.
He had been by her side when she woke up. Sayid freaking Jarrah. She had seen, first, the underside of the bunk above her, then she'd become very aware of an aching sore-ness in her chest. She'd felt the blankets, her stretchy tank top, her bare feet against the sheets- and then a warm, rough hand wrapped around hers. With a great effort, she'd turned her dark head to see a curly black head resting on the side of the bed, his dark curls contrasting with the white sheets. He was slumped over her bed, but his hand was still entwined around hers.
She'd felt herself smile for what felt like the first time in a long time and she squeezed his hand, ever so slightly. When we woke up, her eyes were closed, but she was awake.
"Why are you here?" she asked, her dark eyes unreadable. Sayid had stared back at her, mirroring her expression.
"Because you were alone," he replied, his accent soft and unobtrusive, but still musical.
She didn't ask why he'd held her hand.
And she definitely didn't ask herself why she'd let him.
-
He showed up at her tent, hands in his pockets, curly hair down around his shoulders. He'd cleaned up a bit, too- looked like he was wearing one of Sawyer's t-shirts. It looked good on him. She stood outside, arms crossed across her chest, and grinned at him. He smiled back, and she tossed him a bottle of whiskey.
They walked down to the beach together.
Oddly, they had a lot to talk about. He told her about Nadia and Shannon, and she told him about Danny and Jason and Jack and Goodwin and Sawyer and Eko-
They talked about the island, swapped theories on Dharma and the others and Ole Smokie.
"Do you really call it that?" asked Sayid, a wide smile underneath his beard. Ana grinned to, her eyes flickering from him to the sand.
"Yeah," she said. And he began laughing.
When the sun began to set, they sat in the sand, the waves gently lapping at their bare feet. Ana had rolled her jeans up, revealing smooth calves (thank God for SmoothAway, she thought) and she'd caught Sayid staring at her out of the corner of her eyes. She smirked. But then again, she was staring at him, too- at the colors of his skin in the orange light, at his lips, at him, period.
"Do you think we'll ever get back?" he asked finally, quietly, looking over at her. She wasn't sure what to say.
She shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder if we only wanna get off because it means we're aiming for something. Personally…" she gestured with the whiskey bottle, "I got nothing to go back home to, except for a mom who knows what I've done and a job I'm not fit for any more."
They sat in silence for a moment as the warm, tropical breeze swirled around then. Ana sipped her whiskey in an extremely un-lady-like fashion.
"I think you're right," said Sayid. She looked over at him, smiling an ironic smile.
" 'Bout what, chief?" she asked, reminiscent of Sawyer.
"We're trying to get home because we've always tried to get home. I don't know what I have back in the world, either." His voice faded to almost a murmur, his thick eyebrows contracting. "If she's even alive."
Ana felt a stab of jealousy. "Don't have the best luck in love, do ya?"
He glanced at her. "Neither do you, apparently."
She chuckled, staring out at the rolling blue waves. "Yeah… what a pair we make, huh?"
"At least we have someone."
"Do we?" she said, looking at him. Their eyes met, and he nodded.
"Yes," he said. "We do."
They made their way back, not to Ana's tent, but to Sayid's. They didn't notice the stares of the rest of the camp, even the bitter glare that Sawyer threw at them as they ducked, grinning like two teenagers, into Sayid's tent.
They didn't have sex that night. They talked, even more (they were both amazed that they didn't run out of things to talk about, there was so much to say, now that they finally had another person who not only listened but understood) and then, eventually, when Ana's eyes began drooping, fell asleep on top of each other, like teens who'd stayed up all night together. Ana's head was on Sayid's chest, her hair swirling across his shirt, and his arms wrapped around her shoulders.
What a pair was right.
Two people in a place neither had ever wanted to be, found a way to make something work. It was math, really. They added up. Two plus two equals five.
Murder plus whiskey equals love.
"Breath," by Breaking Benjamin.
A/N: I love Ana Lucia. Not gonna lie. She and Juliet are my two favorite female characters. Ana/Anyone works in my mind. Just you wait for some of the one-shots I've got circling the black hole that is my mind. Plus, during the scene right after Ana unties Sayid from the tree and everyone's wondering if he's gonna kill her, did you see the two of them eyeing each other's lips? I sure did. Plus they have a great dynamic, going together (plus Charlie) to find Benry's balloon, and there seems to be a sort of camaraderie that grows between them before Ana dies. I wondered how that camaraderie would change, if by some miracle Ana survived being shot. And this was born. As always, please review! And while you're at it, check out the FANTASTIC story by I-Like-Bunnies (I do too, girl) called Back and Forth. It's about a girl named Evey who starts time skipping as soon as she gets to the island. It's Sayid/Evey and it leaves me breathless every time and doesn't get nearly enough attention, because it's definitely one of the best OC stories on this section. Go give it some love, please!
Ciao,
Sarah.