Pairings: Bana, Sana, mentions of Jana, Chaire, Shayid and Shoone. Basically it's pretty well rounded. I might even throw in some Jate (no promises though).

Disclaimer: Lost and the characters in Lost do not belong to me, obviously. If they had Ana Lucia and Sawyer would have ended up together (meaning she wouldn't have died).

A/N: Once again, thanks for the reviews, I really appreciate them and even if you didn't review, thanks for just taking the time read. I'm kind of nervous about this chapter, I'm not so sure about how it turned out. So, if you could please tell me what you thought (good or bad).

. . .

Chapter Three: The Whole Truth (not to be confused with the episode)

Ana Lucia watched Aaron as he slept. There was something calming about the chubbiness of his cheeks and the pinkness of his face, something innocent. She swallowed, thinking back to her conversation with Jack. A part of her couldn't quite believe she'd let down her walls long enough to admit something like that to him, the other part could hardly care less. It was done now and there was no going back. For some reason that she couldn't quite explain she'd felt the need to talk about one of the main things that had been bothering her for the past few nights, that had kept her tossing and turning in her sleep. And a part of her felt better because of it, lighter. But that didn't mean she was ready to go spilling all her guts on the table in front of Jack. She'd meant it when she'd said she didn't talk about that other time. What had happened to her when she was nineteen was one thing, she'd been hurt but it hadn't damaged her nearly as much as the miscarriage; she hadn't felt that clawing loss. Plus, the story of her rape was something she'd had to repeat many times to the police, to her mother and, after she'd met Danny and things had started getting serious between them, to him as well. Jack was just another person on the list and she trusted him to keep the information to himself. But the details of her once-baby . . . that was something she had never told anyone about. No-one but Jason. Everyone else had either already known or had been told by those close to her.

Ana Lucia didn't know if she was ready to share that one detail of her life with anyone who she didn't plan to kill. The Latina didn't know what that said about her but she had a feeling it wasn't healthy.

She looked down at the baby in her arms and her throat tightened. How lucky Claire was . . . how much Ana envied her, even more than she would ever admit to herself. She wanted to get past this but everything pulled her back. She was drowning in her past and clawing her way to the surface was proving to be most difficult. Ana hated to admit it . . . but she needed help.

"Hey," a soft voice said and Ana blinked, glancing over in the direction of Claire who she hadn't noticed had woken up. The Australian still looked tired but far more refreshed than she had last night.

The Latina tried to smile."Hey."

The Australian woman sat up in her makeshift bed, eyeing the two in front of her. She nodded to Aaron with a small smile. "How was he?"

"He was good," she replied though she didn't smile in return, she was unsure whether she'd be able to. The silence between them was awkward to say the least and Ana frowned. "How'd you sleep?"

Claire smiled at the question, happy for a chance to start up conversation again. "Good. Really good actually."

"Good." Ana almost grimaced as the dreaded G word raised its ugly head again; what she wouldn't give for a Thesaurus right about now. She glanced down at Aaron who was starting to wake up and knew that his time in her arms had reached its last moments. "You want him back?"

"Yeah."

Ana Lucia bit her lip and slowly, almost painfully, reached across to hand him back to Claire. She didn't want to – the knowledge stuck out obtrusively in her mind – she didn't want to give him back. He wasn't her baby, yet she felt the undeniable to need to pretend. But make-believe time was over, time to return to the real world.

She sighed, watching as Claire took him and settled him in her arms once more. She was so lucky.

Ana shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts. She was disgusted with herself to be honest. Since when did she become some jealous bitch who couldn't even smile at other people's good fortune? Bitch.

"Ana, is everything OK?" Claire asked, noticing the other woman's odd expression.

Ana Lucia sighed, not looking at her. Would it help to confide in someone – someone who could understand the love you could have for a child? Or would talking about it just make it worse. She could remember her conversation with Sayid, how close she'd come to letting out her one big secret; she'd felt panicked then; panicked that someone else on this island should know about her baby. It was so much easier to pretend that the whole thing had never happened if no-one else knew. But keeping a memory like that bottled up inside of her for so long . . . it was beginning to tear her apart.

Claire would understand. Claire had a child, she would understand. She wouldn't understand the aching loss but she would know the feeling of loving another being so completely and she would understand the fear of having all that taken away.

"Before when you asked me why I didn't want kids anymore," she started, stilling not looking at the blonde. Finally she glanced up. "I wasn't telling you the whole truth."

Claire gazed at her in confusion, blue eyes searching her face for any sign of an explanation. Ana sighed, knowing this wasn't going to be easy.

. . .

". . . I wasn't telling you the whole truth."

Sayid paused, mango halfway to his mouth, at Ana-Lucia's words. To be honest, he hadn't intentionally sat by Claire's shelter to listen in on their conversation. It had been more a matter of necessity than anything – down the beach, Sawyer and Jack were in the middle of another verbal sparring, Kate stuck between them as futile peacemaker, it had been growing to be quite loud when Sayid had finally given up on eating breakfast there for the morning; Claire's place was far more quieter.

He frowned, mind playing over the Latina's words. There wasn't anything especially alarming about them but since they were coming from Ana Lucia – a woman who never seemed to have anything good to say – they did give him pause. If he hadn't made a pact to himself last night to understand the woman better he would have found a new spot to finish his mango; he really had only wanted a quiet breakfast. Regardless, he stayed where he was . . . and he listened.

"Nice mango?" Lock asked, stopping on his way past.

Sayid, in a burst of frustration, didn't have time to contemplate the man's bizarre appearance out of the hatch. He held a finger up to his mouth, signally him to be quiet. The other man raised an eyebrow, glanced at Claire's shelter, before finally making a decision and taking up a seat beside the Iraqi – curiosity seemed to have taken up priority in Lock's mind.

Sayid couldn't be bothered protesting his presence.

. . .

Claire watched Ana closely as the woman toyed with her hands as she had once toyed with a gun in the presence of Sayid but the Australian was not to know that. She didn't know exactly what the other woman was getting at but she sensed that she felt the need to unburden herself and Claire would listen with open ears, after all she owed the Latina for a night of babysitting.

Ana sighed again and glanced up at her. "I had it all once. I had the house, the job (a job that payed well and I was beginning to like) and I was engaged to this . . . great guy." She licked her lips and looked down. "Danny was a great guy. I was even pregnant," she added with forced brightness though the cheer sounded strained at best to both of them.

Claire's eyes widened at her words but Ana Lucia didn't give her time to collect her thoughts before continuing.

. . .

"I was even pregnant."

Locke nearly chocked at the Latina's words and he glanced across at Sayid to see whether he had heard correctly. If the Iraqi was at all shocked by Ana Lucia's admission, it didn't show, and Locke frowned wondering whether he actually had heard correctly.

"What are we all doing here?" Bernard asked with a jovial grin, coming up beside them. "You're starting to look a bit suspicious."

Locke and Sayid glared at him, unhappy for the interruption. Angrily, Locke gestured for him to be quiet – the last thing they needed was to be found out by Ana Lucia for eavesdropping – and confused, the man took a seat beside them. Like Locke before, he was drawn in by curiosity.

. . .

"I was fourteen weeks along when it happened," Ana said after a pause. She'd almost backed out after that last admittance, knowing that no real damage had been done yet and there was still hope of a quick escape. She'd looked to the door of Claire's shelter and felt unbelievably envious of all those who had the luck to dwell outside it. "I was a cop." She looked to Claire then, unsure whether the Australian already knew that or not. Word travelled fast around camp but still you never knew. Judging by Claire's shocked expression, she hadn't known. "And it was my last week of work. I'd already planned on going on maternity leave by the end of the month; I'd be almost five months by then and the captain, my mother, said she didn't want me on any longer than that." Ana Lucia blinked, remembering the argument they'd had about just how long Ana could continue work for. She hadn't liked the idea of going on maternity leave; she thought she'd be bored. The idea was almost comical now . . . she'd put her child's life on the line all because she might have ended up board. Looking back, Ana rather wished her mother had insisted she'd leave work earlier. "It was one job, a burglary call . . . and I didn't even think. . ." She trailed off staring at the Shelter's walls with undivided attention. Claire frowned. "I'd done the same thing a hundred times over and nothing had ever gone wrong. But I should have known . . . I shouldn't have let him . . ." Again she stopped, licking her lips as she tried to regain a thought pattern. "There was one guy there, he said he was a student . . . and I . . . I hesitated . . . I let him reach for his I.D . . . an I.D that never even existed."

Ana Lucia halted, pulling back from the memory with some difficulty. She didn't want to remember the sound of that gun as it went off – the resonating pop that signalled what was to come next – or the pain that reached her for a millisecond before everything faded to black. A part of her wondered why, if she didn't want to remember so much, she was sitting here recounting the whole event to some Australian chick.

"He shot me four times . . . and he got away." She swallowed and glanced over at Claire. "I woke up in hospital a week later. I don't how I survived . . . I felt myself die . . . I did die . . . twice." She remembered blurrily the doctor's words as he explained how she had died one in the ambulance over and once on the operating table . . . and she remembered what she had told her next. Looking into Claire's wide eyes now, she saw the same question that had been reflected in her own after waking up that first time. Ana Lucia looked down, unable to meet her gaze any longer. "And my baby died as well. She didn't come back."

FLASHBACK

"I'm sorry, Miss Cortez, but we couldn't save your baby."

Ana Lucia shook her head at the doctor's words, unable quite to believe them. She couldn't have lost her baby, it was fine. Her and Danny were going in for an ultrasound in a fortnight and they were going to find out the baby's sex. She was going to find out whether she was gonna have a little boy or a little girl. She had a feeling it was a girl – partly because she'd had this strange craving for peanut butter and ice-cream lately and that was exactly what her mother had experienced when she'd been pregnant with her but mostly because it was just a feeling . . . She wouldn't mind a boy though, girls were a little too prissy for her taste but frankly she didn't care either way.

She almost smiled at the thought. She was going to be a mum soon. She was going to have a little girl or boy to take care of, someone wholly dependent on her.

But then reality had to come crashing down on her in the form of her mother's voice.

"Ana?" Captain Cortez asked and Ana shuddered at the concern she heard there. Her mother had only been so concerned about her one other time . . . "Are you alright?"

She gazed at her mother, questioning with her eyes whether what the doctor had said was true, praying all the while that this was all some bad dream. Her mother seemed to understand what she was asking for she closed her eyes for a moment, breathing out, before opening them up again to look her daughter square in the eye. "I'm so sorry, mija."

The brunette chocked, eyes dimming as the whole world came crashing down around her. This couldn't be happening . . .

She touched her stomach, wincing at the pain she felt there. She wanted to feel that slight butterfly flutter that she'd started experiencing not too long ago, a sign that her baby was still in there. But she felt nothing. Even the pain seemed to fade away.

"Ana?" a new voice asked, a voice she recognised as Danny's. "Ana, baby, talk to me please."

She couldn't look at him, she couldn't bear to see the same pain she was feeling now reflected in his own eyes. She couldn't stand to see the accusation in his gaze as he realized, just the same as she was doing now, that it was all her fault. She had killed their baby.

"What was it?" she whispered barely audible.

"I'm sorry?" the doctor asked, startled.

"What was it?" she repeated, this time louder. Finally they all seemed to cotton on to what she was asking.

"Mija . . ." her mother sighed. "Maybe you shouldn't-"

"What the FUCK was it?" she demanded, finally exploding. They all flinched but for once her mother didn't reprimand her for her language.

"It was a girl," the doctor said finally. "You were carrying a girl."

Ana fell back against her pillow, suddenly drained. She wanted to cry, to scream and shout . . . but she was empty. She felt . . . empty.

"Get out," she whispered. She couldn't handle them there any longer, couldn't bear to see their worried faces and overly concerned voice. She couldn't look into Danny's eyes and see . . .

No-one moved.

"Get out," she said again, all the louder. Like before they exchanged wary glances, unsure whether to comply with her wishes. And like before her mother was the only one to speak.

"Ana-"

"GET OUT!" she screamed, anger coursing through her. At least that was one thing she could feel, one thing besides the numbness. And that was good. Anger she could use, anger was better than pain.

Hesitantly they slowly left her bedside and Ana Lucia closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the door drifting closed. This couldn't be happening. She placed a hand to her stomach, willing the life to come back to it. What good was she if she couldn't even keep her own child alive whilst it was inside of her?

"Please don't leave me," she whispered, crumbling in on herself.

END OF FLASHBACK

Claire watched the brunette opposite her warily as she gazed off into the distance, apparently lost in another time, another place. The blonde could scarcely believe what she had just been told and her heart twisted in sympathy for the other woman. If that had been Aaron . . .

She held her son closer, suddenly scared that he might slip away from her and never be seen again.

"Ana?" she question, trying to pull the brunette back from whatever daze she'd gone into. "Ana, are you alright?" It was a stupid question really – of course she wasn't alright! – but Claire had nothing else to say. She doubted there was anything she could say. "Ana!"

Ana Lucia snapped her gaze away from the shelter wall to look at her, eyes lifeless. The look chilled Claire to the bone and she shivered with cold even though it was hot out. "I'm fine." They both knew that wasn't true.

Claire swallowed. "What happened?" she asked. "After . . . you know." She didn't say she was sorry for her loss or express how terrible it all was. Ana Lucia knew how horrible it was – she didn't need Claire to remind her of that. And really, what kind of condolences would make up for what had happened? There was nothing she could say.

Ana Lucia closed her eyes and breathed out a sigh, clearly debating whether or not to tell her the truth. "I killed him."

Claire blinked, trying to feel surprised by the revelation but somehow . . . she'd been expecting it.

Ana straightened up her shoulder and turned to look at her. "They brought him into the police station and he confessed. Jason McCormack his name was. He would've gotten, I don't know, a couple of years at the most so I told them that I didn't know him . . . that they could let him go. And I followed him for a while, a week, until one night I got him outside a bar . . . and I shot him six times." Her eyes hardened. "I needed to make him pay."

Claire listened to the Latina's words, taking in every detail with a calm expression. She felt no shock, no disgust . . . just simple acceptance. That bastard had it coming.

. . .

Ana looked into Claire's eyes, searching, waiting for the rejection to come. The girl was a goody-two-shoes to a T and somehow Ana didn't think murder fitted quite on her list of acceptable things to do. It had been a risk, telling her that last part, but she'd needed to tell somebody, she needed to talk about her reasons . . . and she needed to know she hadn't gone completely mad. Because that's what it felt like. She felt like the whole world was spinning madly around her and if she didn't grab a hold of something soon she was going to drown in it. Nothing made sense anymore.

"I killed him," she repeated again, just in case the blonde hadn't heard her the first time.

Claire's eyes were steel. "Good." Ana blinked in surprise. "He deserved it."

"I killed somebody," she stressed wondering how the mother could just pass it over like it wasn't some humongous crime.

"Ana . . ." She sighed. "If I had lost Aaron I would have done the same thing." Maybe not before she'd given birth to him – back then she hadn't even known if she wanted him – but now that she loved him, loved him with all her soul . . .

Ana shook her head furiously, mystified by the blonde's apparent acceptance. "But it didn't change anything though . . . It didn't bring her back . . ."

Claire's eyes softened as she gazed at the Latina. "Ana, did you really think it would?"

She gazed at her for a moment, considering the question. ". . . No." She shook her head, sure of the answer. "No, I didn't . . . I just couldn't stand the thought of him breathing air any longer."

Claire nodded in understanding and, hesitantly reached out a hand, grasping onto the other woman's limp one. Ana startled, shocked by the contact and glanced up at the blonde with wide eyes. She had half a mind to pull back instantly, not liking the idea of anybody getting close enough to touch her, but there was something nice in the feeling . . . something comforting. Reluctantly, she realized it was something she needed.

"What happened to Danny?" she asked softly.

Ana bit her lip, remembering the man who had once held her heart. It was hard to believe that the two of them had once been so in love . . . it felt like another lifetime. "He left. After . . ." she trailed. "I just couldn't function, I barely talked to anyone, least of all him; I wouldn't let him touch me . . . Eventually he just gave up. He left."

"I'm sorry."

Ana shrugged and pulled out of her grip, sitting back on her haunches. "I'm better off alone anyway."

Claire opened her mouth to protest but Aaron found that exact same time to start another screaming match. The blonde let out a frustrated sound and Ana watched, mystified, as she soothed her baby back into silence with rocking motions and cooing sounds. Her chest tightened with the knowledge that could have been her. It had been months since she had lost her baby, yet, judging by the pain she still held, it felt like only yesterday.

"How do you do it?" she asked quietly, eyes focused on Aaron's chubby face.

Claire glanced up distractedly. "Do what?"

"I don't know, just . . ." She folded her arms in front of her chest, trying to hold herself together almost. "Go through every day . . . knowing that at any moment he could be taken away from you."

The blonde gazed at her with soft eyes and smiled sympathetically. "I don't know . . . I just . . . think about what I have now, what I have with him . . . I can't let fear get in the way of that." She cocked her head at the other woman. "Ana, even if I lose him, God forbid, I'll still have these moments to look back on. I wouldn't trade this for the world . . . even if I knew I was going to end up losing him anyway."

Ana frowned, wondering how she could think about it all so logically. The brunette herself had given up any hope of having children not only because she doubted she would ever find anyone to have them with but because she couldn't bear the thought of losing them. She couldn't go through that again. She'd die.

As if reading her thoughts, Claire sighed and grabbed her hand again. This time it didn't surprise the Latina as much as it had the first. "Ana, I know this is going to sound rather harsh but . . . you need to move on." She shook Ana's hand in empathise. "You can't keep living like this . . .You'll never find any happiness." The brunette stared at her, frowning. "What happened to you was horrible but living in the past won't fix that . . . You will get past this but to do that you need to let it go . . . you need to let her go."

Ana licked her lips, contemplating the other woman's words. It was something she had been told many times before now but something she had never really taken into account. There was something different when Claire said it though, something logical, and for the first time Ana felt that maybe she would be able to do it, maybe she could get past it.

It wouldn't be easy she knew that . . . but Claire was right – she'd lived in the past long enough.

Slowly she nodded. "Yeah . . ." She couldn't manage much more than that. "Thanks, Claire." From the tone of her voice it was clear that the conversation was over and Claire smiled at her as she rose to her feet, preparing to leave. She paused mid-step however, glancing back the blonde with the little healthy baby in her arms.

"If you ever need anyone to babysit . . ." she trailed, leaving the sentence hanging. She felt better when she was with Aaron, calmer, happier . . . If she was ever going to get past what had happened than the baby seemed like a good way to start.

The blonde nodded. "I won't hesitate to ask."

Ana nodded her head, turned to leave once more and paused. Shaking her head she turned back. "You're really lucky you know that?" There was no question as to what she was referring to.

Claire smiled wider. "I know."

And for the first time since sitting down to have this conversation with Claire, Ana smiled too. She nodded in goodbye before ducking out of the shelter with a sigh, carefully making her way around its side. She nearly fell over at the sight before her – John Locke and Bernard Nadler, both looking like boys caught with their hands in the cookie jar, an impassive Sayid and, most surprising, a startled looking Sawyer, a slice of mango halfway to his mouth. Ana took one look at them and knew they had heard everything.

"You've gotta be kidding me?" The Latina scowled at them, anger and horror boiling in her blood. She couldn't believe it, the one time she took to confessing, the whole camp showed up to hear it! They weren't supposed to hear that, she hadn't wanted anyone either than Claire to know her secret, especially not Sayid. Locke and Bernard she could take perhaps take – the Hunter would most likely never mention it again and the Tailie would probably only from now on stutter in her general direction – and even Sawyer she could tolerate – he may be an ass but he wasn't a gossip as well – but Sayid? Ana couldn't take him knowing. Not only because this was so private, not something that ought to be known by someone who hated her, but also because she didn't want an ounce of his pity, if their indeed was any.

"I was just makin' me way over ta see Freckles," Sawyer spoke up in explanation, not looking the least bit guilty. Whether or not he felt guilty wasn't the issue, he probably just didn't want to get his ass kicked by her again.

Ana Lucia frowned. "Kate's over back the way you came, Dumbass."

"Alrighty then, Mama Lulu, I best be goin' that way," he said, tipping his head with a smirk, and walking off. Ana stiffened at the new nickname, now knowing for sure that Sawyer had indeed heard her conversation. Great.

She turned her gaze on Bernard and Locke, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"I need to go see Jack," Locke decided before walking away, leaving his two friends to face the wrath of Ana Lucia alone. Bernard stared at her nervously while Sayid crossed his arms, unperturbed – Ana was not a woman who could very easily scare him; the one thing she could threaten to do she had already done.

"Go," Ana said clearly, gazing into Bernard's eyes with a cold stare. "Go." He didn't need to be told a third time and the two watched impassively as he scuttled away in the direction of his wife.

Ana Lucia licked her lips, considering, before turning her gaze back on Sayid who met her stare head on. There was nothing she could say, she couldn't ask this man to leave, to apologise and she worried that if she opened her mouth she'd say something she'd regret later. Under the surface, Ana Lucia felt furious and . . . oddly betrayed.

. . .

Sayid gazed into Ana Lucia's smouldering brown eyes, his own daring her to speak. He knew, just like she knew, that such a thing couldn't happen. He held a power over her and would continue to until the day she died. In another life – one without Shannon – she might have beaten him to the ground by now.

She didn't move, didn't twitch, until finally she looked away and walked off, the silence hanging far too thick over them. Sayid warned himself to stay quiet, to just let the woman go, but something grabbed a hold of his tongue that day and forced it to do its will.

"Do you not have anything to say, Ana Lucia?" He called. His voice was lifeless, just like the rest of him.

The Latina's step halted and she seemed to debate whether she should just go on or turn back and give him a piece of her mind. Seemingly, she decided on the latter, swinging around and stalking towards him with fire in her eyes. Angrily, she pointed a finger at him, rage controlling her limbs like a puppeteer.

"I realize that you don't owe me anything," she started, voice deadly but not yet raised. "But you ever listen to a conversation that you ain't supposed to again . . . and I'll kill you."

Sayid stared into her eyes, unflinching. She was very nearly shaking with rage and he could just see the debate going on inside her mind – to punch or not to punch? "I don't doubt that." What he did doubt was whether she'd be able to. She may have been a cop but he'd been in the war . . . not that that had helped him save Shannon.

Ana swallowed and, without another word, turned to leave again. This time, Sayid didn't call her back.