I failed to thank my betas: whoKnowsWhy and MrBeta. They keep me in line. How I failed to mention IslandPalm who kept the faith is unforgivable.

Chapter 2

His heart was pounding. His eyes were open, moving, seeking. His hand was reaching for the rifle, the stock cool and hard to his fingers as they curled around it.

This was not a dream. He was awake.

Someone was in the shelter.

He began to slowly pull the weapon closer and gasped in pain as a pointy knee was suddenly jammed on to his elbow, his fingers flying open. A hand, the skin dry and cool, covered his mouth. Hair whispered across his cheek.

"Sayid!"

The voice, low pitched, was a hiss in his ear.

With his free hand, he pushed away the one covering his mouth, "Danielle?"

She dropped onto her heels, freeing his arm. "Where is the dark haired girl?"

"Who?" He sat up slowly. Pushing the blanket aside, he reached for a shirt. It was not the clean one. It would do. He stood, her dark form rising with him.

"The girl I sent for you when I found him. I looked for her. I couldn't find her. I had to wait until dark. Where is she?"

He pulled the shirt over his head. It was damp from the day, not fresh. Very little was fresh anymore. "She's dead,' he stated flatly. He considered his trainers, and left them where they sat. If he needed shoes, he would return for them. "Let's talk outside." He stepped around the woman and onto the beach.

The sand was chilly to his toes as he held the canvas for Danielle. "Why are you here?" he asked as dropped the door.

"I followed them. Why didn't you come? I waited." She stepped close to him, her large eyes luminous and searching, the omnipresent rifle pointed at the sand. Her face appeared bereft and betrayed, evoking the sense that she was fragile, birdlike, belying his knowledge that she was neither. "You didn't come."

Sayid felt his brow wrinkle. "Where, Danielle?"

"They sent the heavy boy back. So I waited for you to come. I expected you to bring weapons." Danielle frowned deeply and sighed, her expression making him feel the dull student.

Heavy boy. Hurley. "You followed –"

"Them. Yes," her tone held impatience. "They put the father on a boat with his son. They sent back the one. They took the three with them."

He waited. She would tell him in her own fashion. He had learned this much with the few contacts that he had with the odd woman.

"You know this?" Danielle demanded. "He told you – the one who came back?"

He nodded, "Where did they take them?"

"I'll show you. Come." She turned.

He caught her arm before the second step. He noted the firm muscle, reminding him that she was a woman of the island, had survived alone against the odds, and could play the part of a major asset in finding the captured trio. "Wait." First was Locke who did not want to budge, and now Rousseau who burned with immediacy. Was there no middle ground on this island? "Morning would be bet-"

"Now. They move often and could be gone before dawn." Her chin set stubbornly. "I know where they are. Come now and so will you."

"If you did not need me, you would not have come here," he replied levelly. "Haste has not served me well. We will need –"

"We need to go!" she said adamantly, stepping closer. "It's possible they've moved again." She looked away, peering into the night as if she could see the movement from here. "I waited and then followed. They have your friends."

"And they will continue to have them until morning." He kept his voice even, firm. Once again, he found himself modulating its tone. Was he always this easily irritated? "We need –"

"I'm going," she announced, pulling away from his hand. "You may come or not. I thought you would want to help your friends."

Sayid watched her long legged stride take her into the darkness, his mind racing. Was she trustworthy? He did not believe that she would work with the Others, not after what they had cost her – her husband, her child. But, his brain tossed in quickly, most had believed the same with Michael. Could Rousseau have made a deal for her child?

He shook his head minutely as he discounted the possibility as quickly as it formed. Rousseau had not provided a list of people to accompany them. If the Others had wanted him, they could have taken him at the abandoned village. It pained him to acknowledge that were his capture desired, since they were able to foresee the actions to thwart Michael, it would have happened. He did not enjoy facing his ineptitude.

He lifted his eyes and scanned the tree line. She would leave a trail. Could it be followed? He quickly cast through the people available who could track. It started and stopped with Locke, who would not start. He sighed. He missed Kate's skills and willingness to jump to a task. He lacked the skill and was not foolish enough to believe that it could be learned while practicing for the first time.

What would be accomplished if he left with Danielle at this moment? If the Others had not moved on since she left them, he would know their position. With just the two of them, this information could mean nothing. He would face the same dilemma that she had earlier: not enough numbers for strength, for a strike. He could send her back to camp – if it was possible to convince the woman to do anything outside her own interests – to escort a rescue team. Surely, Locke would yield to the logic of action then, and could read the trail left behind if the Others were as nomadic as Rousseau maintained.

The holes in this plan glared at Sayid. He could end up alone, trailing the Others from camp to camp, waiting for assistance that was not coming. It was possible that he and Rousseau would not be able to find the latest base if they had decamped since the woman had left. They could be captured. They could be killed.

He scrubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms and looked to where Rousseau had disappeared. Even with someone accompanying them, success hinged on Locke seeing the need. Could he count on Rousseau to do as he bid? Should he include another person – who? – to send back? Would it matter who was the messenger with Locke? Who would come at this very moment whose presence to which Rousseau would not object?

Sayid pulled his hair back from his neck, beginning to turn when a woman's form solidified from the woods. He dropped his hands to his hips and watched as Rousseau cross to him.

"You have changed your mind," she stated with a hint of smugness. "I knew when you did not return to your tent."

"I am beginning to believe that my decisions are set in sand," Sayid replied with disgust. "Let me get my shoes."

"Bring the rifle. We will both be armed." She walked at his shoulder, halting at the edge of the platform. "That will change the balance with them."

"Danielle," Sayid paused mid step. "We are not an army. To consider us scouts is …to flatter ourselves." The concept of scouting almost choked him after his foray to the fake village. He hoped that this trip would produce results that were more positive. "And should I …ask you to return –"

"It will be for reinforcements," Her hair whipped across her face as the wind suddenly picked up. "Sayid, I am not a foolish woman. I want my child. You want to free your friends. We will work together." She pulled the strands away, determination etched in the lines about her eyes and mouth. "I am not deceiving you. That lesson pains me even now."

He studied her once more, and nodded shortly. He stepped inside and reached for his trackers. He sank onto his pallet to pull on socks. He eyed his surroundings, deciding what to stuff into his pack.

It was undoubtedly another in a series of foolish moves since crashing onto the island, but he was going with Rousseau to find the captives.