Sawyer instinctively looked away from the woman in front of him, and slowly rose to his feet. She was simply another manufactured byproduct of his exhaustion induced insanity, at least that's what he told himself. He walked briskly forward, denying himself the satisfaction of checking to make sure Ana was there.

"Hey, I'm talking to you," she addressed him again.

He continued onward, willing himself not to look. "I ain't got time for this," he muttered under his breath, partly to her but mostly to himself.

"Well, I have all the time in the world," she remarked casually, playing with her fingernails. She pushed off the tree and began to trail Sawyer, who was clearly making an effort to remain silent. "You don't know where you're going do you?"

"Away from you," he said, this time louder and harsher.

"I would've thought you'd be nicer, considering the circumstances and all," Ana spat at him, her voice dripping with malice.

Sawyer let out a humorless laugh. "The circumstances? The circumstances are that Claire's gone missin', and I'm here wastin' my time!"

"No," she corrected, "the circumstance is that I'm dead and…"

"Well that ain't my fault," Sawyer interrupted curtly.

"Really?" Ana questioned, arching her eyebrows and placing her hands on her hips. She slowly walked over to Sawyer, and grabbed one of his hands. Sawyer looked down at her, but said nothing. He met her eyes for a second, but there seemed to be no emotion. She lifted his hand and placed it on her chest, and he instinctively looked away, trying to move his hand. But she wouldn't let him.

"Look at me,'" she demanded, and he obliged. "This is where your friend shot me with your gun." She made a special effort to emphasize the word your. She was so cold to the touch, and he couldn't feel a heartbeat.

"Look muchacha, I never said he was my friend. And you stole the gun, I didn't have much say in the matter."

"You knew exactly what was goin' down. It was a trade, mutually beneficial," she laughed, "well at least it seemed that way at the time."

"Well, I'm glad this whole dyin' business hasn't taken away that precious sense of humor you're famous for," Sawyer sarcastically remarked.

Ana didn't respond, and the hostility was replaced by a somber silence. Sawyer waited for her to speak, but she just stared intently at the ground. He shook his head and began walking away again.



"Why didn't you stop me?" Ana asked in a voice more reserved than Sawyer had ever heard her speak in before. "You could've saved me."

Sawyer was about to throw this accusations right back in her face, tell her that it was her own damn fault for giving Michael the gun, for taking the gun in the first place. But as he looked at her, he held his words, choosing to stand there in the awkward silence.

"Did you even care about me?"

Silence.

"In the jungle, did you care about me, or what was that?"

Still Sawyer said nothing. "Not talking?" she chuckled, "well you have to admit we had some chemistry,"

Sawyer now looked up, slightly amused. "So you had a little thing for me. That's okay Ana-Lulu, your secrets safe with me."

"It doesn't matter now, I'm dead."

"Look this chat has been nice, but I really gotta find Claire." Sawyer said as he tentatively began to walk away again.

"Since when did you become her guardian angel?" Ana asked this time walking away from him.

"Since when did it become any of your business?" he shouted back, relieved that he could begin his search for Claire again, but disheartened that his time with Ana was ending. He looked over his shoulder ever so briefly, and a part of him wanted to turn around and go back to her, spend more time with her, time that was stolen by a selfish man. If what Ben had said was true and Michael really was on the freighter… But then he knew he had to push forward and save Claire. He couldn't wallow in the past; he couldn't build upon a relationship that was well, dead. So he clenched his fists and pushed forward, trying to focus on the soft smile of the blonde Australian instead of the intense stare of the Latina.

But the heat and dehydration and exhaustion forced the thoughts of the two to swirl around his head, and then there was Anthony Cooper's face, his neck bound by chains. There was Kate and the polar-bear cages, and Shannon's missing inhaler, and Charlie, when he was at his weakest, tailing Locke to help Sawyer seize the guns, including the gun that lead to Ana's death. But as he once again struggled to remain conscious, the maelstrom of memories about the island cleared, and there was only Claire, just as lost as he was, just as troubled, and in just as much need of help.

He fell to his knees, and clenched his eyes closed, willing himself to continue the search. He had the motivation, but his body just wouldn't comply.

"Hey cowboy, you ain't looking so hot."

It was her again. He forced himself to look up, and saw Ana take a large bite out of a bright red apple. She threw the remainder to him, and he eagerly bit into it, using his remaining strength to devour the 

fruit. She handed him a bottle of water which he greedily downed, his first drink in God knows how long.

"Here," she stated simply, outstretching an arm to him. He leaned against her, and they hobbled over to a spot in the shade. After he finished the water he looked at her again, this time able to think a bit more rationally.

"How are you here?" He asked. She gave a toothy smile and tapped his forehead twice. "If you're in my head, then how the hell did you just give me water?" He reached over and gently brushed a dark strand of hair off of her face. "How can this be all in my head?"

"I got something else to give you," she said, reaching behind the tree. Sawyer peaked around expectantly, and stood up when she pulled out Aaron's blanket. "Where'd you get that," he said through clenched teeth, tense and even bordering on angry. "How is Claire, is she alright?" he continued. After all, that's what he really wanted to know.

"Now that's an interesting question to ask, if Claire's alright."

"Well is she?" Sawyer demanded, pinning Ana up against a tree. One hand forced her arm against the bark, while the other pointed accusingly into her face. He leaned in close, wedging her so that she could barely move. His eyes glared ominously, staring intently down at her, awaiting a response.

"Last time you had me pinned like this I still gained the upper hand," she said through labored breaths, but with a defiant smile. "Yea, she's fine." Sawyer loosened his grip.

"Where is she?" he demanded.

Ana wiggled out of his grasp and threw him the blanket. "Head east. Trust me, you won't miss her." She walked slowly away from him, still in the same blue jeans and black tank top she had been shot in. She was going west, and wasn't indicating she was looking back.

"And where you headed off to?" Sawyer asked. She didn't respond.