Title: Fall Into The Light
Author: GlowFish
Fandom: Lost
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ana Lucia/Sawyer, Ana Lucia/Sayid
Summary: Life certainly is not what it was twenty-four hours ago
Warnings: Mostly mild swearing; I'll up the rating if it gets any worse. Totally un-beta'd so all the mistakes are mine. Feel free to comment. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows. Thanks!
Disclaimer: If I owned Lost, d'you think this story would even be necessary?

"So the world's still out there?"
--Desmond Hume to John Locke, S2E2: Adrift

X.

Sawyer walked Ana Lucia home.

The night was cool, and the sky empty save the stars that twinkled above them and the moon that covered everything in a surreal glow of white; Ana was quiet beside him, probably wrapped in her own thoughts, but he didn't much mind the silence. It reminded him of Georgia nights, and crickets singing to their companions, peaches with a dash of cream and lemonade. God, it was times like this he missed home and the simple comforts of the South.

They had expected, when Kate and Jack had arrived, that there would be some answers, some kind of reassurance that what they were thinking, feeling and remembering wasn't some half-crazy dream or nightmare or delusion dreamed up by mass hysteria. What they found were two people just as confused as the rest of them. It was, and Sawyer had to stifle his smirk because right now it was not appropriate and probably wouldn't be appreciated by his present company, one of the most ironic situations he could have ever found himself in. Back on the island, the Doc acted like he knew everything—everything about anyone, about life, about survival and war—but here, all his "island know how" didn't mean squat. Jack couldn't frown that pretty boy frown of his and make everything better. Nothing was better, everything was worse and no one knew where to go from here. So Eko adjourned the meeting making everyone to promise to meet back at the church at noon tomorrow.

Sawyer gave a mental snort. Meet back at the church and do what? Comb through the memories some more, try to piece together those disjointed images? And then what? Would those memories just show them what was going or would they just leave them further confused?

"Alright," Ana growled breaking into his thoughts. "Out with it. What're you thinking?"

Sawyer was not surprised in the least that she knew his silence was filled with thoughts. He had been told that she had been a cop before she'd landed on the island, and had seen that shrewd training in action earlier this evening.

Sawyer shrugged, answering, "What d'you thinks gonna happen at that meeting tomorrow, huh? We gonna sit around a circle, holding hands and singing "Cumbaya" until we get hit with a bolt of inspiration? There's nothing left for us to do. There's no answering we can get from each other. We're just a bunch of fools milling around with crazy memories of another life and nothing to do with them."

Ana shrugged. "We gotta keep trying, man. There's gotta be something that we're missing. Something that we haven't seen. We can't just give up."

"Maybe we should," Sawyer replied, even though he didn't believe the words for a minute. He was a con man, part of his job was finding everything out about a situation before manipulating it to his advantage. Ana shook her head in disbelief.

"You don't mean that," she said. "You don't mean that at all. You're frustrated. We're all frustrated, cowboy, but we can't give up on this. There's a reason we're here, and it could be good or bad. If it's good, we roll with it. If it's bad, we stop it."

Sawyer shook his head, stopped underneath an amber streetlight, looking both ways down the street. She stopped beside him, her eyes dark in the amber glow, but he could feel her gaze boring into him. He turned to her and glared.

"And how do we figure that out, huh? You, me, Osama, Freckles and the Doc don't know nothing about this place; there's nobody to ask, nobody to interrogate or question, and even if there were, they probably won't be easy to get to or catch. We don't know whether this pace is even real."

It was then that Ana stepped close to him, invading his personal space. He was taken aback for a second by her sudden movement, but when she wrapped a steady arm around his neck he relaxed. She tilted his head close to her's, smirked in the darkness and he could feel the heat of his breath ghosting across his lips.

"Then believe this, cowboy." And she kissed him hard. He melted into the kiss, and felt something alien twisting its way up from his chest, something he hadn't felt in a long time and never thought he would feel again. Sawyer grinned against her lips, and spoke, though his voice was muffled, "Why, Ana Lulu, I do believe you've taken a shinin' to me."

She pulled away from him, snorting in laughter. "C'mon, you big hick. Walk me the rest of the way home."

He grinned. "Maybe this time you'll let me in."

She glanced back at him as she started across the street. "Don't bet on it."

He smirked, but followed her, the feeling in his chest swelling like the tide. It was warm and strange, but it felt good. Really good.

He should've known the feeling wasn't going to last.

88

It happened as they were nearing her apartment complex, just passing through the gates and rounding the garbage bins. He and Ana had been talking, just light chit-chat, nothing as heavy and nearly depressing as the endless debate of why they were here, where was here and how they were going to get out. She was telling him about her work and he was listening intently, making mental notes, just as much as he was engrossed in her conversation, on what exactly he could do to avoid police officers in the future. He was still a Confidence Man after all.

He hadn't been paying attention, not really, and neither had she, so when the car pulled up, they had merely stepped to the side to let the driver pass. He didn't see the punch fly out from the darkness until it was too late and the fist connected soundly with his jaw.

He cursed, but another punch followed the first, then a kick and suddenly he was being rained upon from everywhere with punches kicks and what he was sure was a tire iron. He felt the hard metal crack against his skull, sending him precariously close to blacking out. He pulled himself from the edge, and ducking one punch, he fired one of his own. It connected, and the man fell back cursing and spitting blood. Sawyer smirked, wiped his chin and charged forward.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ana fighting her own assailant, two big men dressed in black, and neither seemed to be gaining the upper hand on little miss Rambina. Ana kicked one in the crotch, punched the other in the face. One went down with a howl of pain and the other was fazed.

Assured, Sawyer returned to his fight. Three big men, the fourth still out of commission trying to stifle the blood running between his fingers from a broken nose. The three men circled him warily like a pack of hyenas. He stared them all down with grim determination, his mind working to commit each face to memory. These men didn't wear mask, and Sawyer knew—in his experience—if a man didn't care that his face was seen during a crime, then he really didn't care about anything at all, and could commit murder just as easily as he could steal candy from a baby.

Sawyer breathed, balling his hands into tight fists, waiting for it, waiting for the men to strike. They still circled him, one of them grinning maliciously. Sawyer promised this guy mentally, I'm going to wipe that smirk off your face before this is over.

"Sawyer!" Ana cried, but before he could look, the men struck, all as one, surging forward. Sawyer was able to take one down, but was assaulted by the other two on his sides. The man with the tire iron raised it high. Sawyer looked out the corner of his eye at the last moment. His heart twisted. Ana went down, and was scooped up by one of the big men that had attacked her. Then the tire iron crashed onto his skull.

He hit the ground heavily as unconsciousness washed over him. He couldn't fight it. He heard one of the men speaking, vague, but he caught a name, a very familiar name, "Henry Gale." Before he was out cold.

88

Ana woke to the dull beep of a heart monitor and a throbbing ache assaulting her head. She groaned and tried to sit up, found that she couldn't. There were restraints on her ankles and wrists. She struggled against them to no avail. She was trapped.

She lifted her head slightly despite the pain and looked around. She was in a hospital. Again. But this one was different. Every thing was white, brilliant white, and incredibly clean. She smelled the sickening smell of disinfectant and bleach, and something else. Something that made her stomach roil and toss uneasily. Ana swallowed, feeling slight tendrils of fear trace their way up her spine.

The door to her room opened and Ana gasped, "Gale!" And fought her restraints with renewed vigor. The doctor shut the door and turned to her with the same saccharine smile he had worn when she had first seen him.

"Ana," he greeted simply and stepped into the room. He looked her struggling figure over before making a notation on the chart the he had brought with him. "You needn't struggle. I assure you, you won't be leaving anytime soon."

Ana stopped struggling, glared daggers at the man. "What do you want? And where's Sawyer?"

"The con man?" Gale's look was speculative. "Around." He smiled. "But I think you should be more worried about yourself, Ana Lucia." Gale looked his chart over again before going to her IV bag and checking the amount of fluids left. He noted it on her chart.

"What are you doing?" Ana asked suspiciously. Gale glanced at her, answered, "Just checking everything. We don't want any harm coming to you."

"Like hell you don't!" Ana growled. "Were those men with you? The ones who attacked us?"

Gale's look was speculative. "No, not with me, but they are employed with the hospital. They go out and take care of our more unruly patients."

"I'm not your patient," Ana snapped. Gale smirked.

"No, you weren't, but then we received a disturbing call earlier," he replied, feigning concern. "A man named Danni Rodriguez called concerning his fiancée. Claimed she had had a psychotic break, injured him, breaking his nose. Talking to strange people he'd never met. That's when the staff paged me, and I sent those men to find you."

"And attack me." It was a statement not a question. Ana couldn't tell whether Gale's surprise was fake or not.

"They had to restrain you," he replied. "You were being difficult, and your, ah, friend was a very dangerous man. When I told that to Mr. Rodriguez, he wanted that man dealt with. Now," Gale looked over the chart again, "I'll allow, Mr. Rodriguez into to see you, and your mother. After that, no more visitors. We have tests to run."

"What did you do to Sawyer! What tests! What are you going to do!" Ana shouted, suddenly enraged. What was going? What happened to Sawyer? Where was he? Gale had better not have had him harmed. Gale's look was roundabout; he shrugged, smiled.

"You'll see." Then he turned and left Ana with a growing sense of dread in her curling through her system.

88

He woke with one massive headache.

Early morning sunlight splashed on his face with a cheeriness Sawyer could have done without. He sat up stiffly as his back protested and his arms screamed in pain. He groaned, and tried to move. Couldn't. He snapped awake quickly, as the nights' events rushed back to him full-tilt. Ana! Ana Lucia, where was she! Sawyer looked about, but what he saw stopped him cold.

Police station. He was in a…

"Oh crap."

How did he get here? What the hell happened? One minute he's with Ana, the next their being attacked and now…

"Damn."

"Finally caught you," came the snide voice. Sawyer looked up and was face-to-face with a young officer in full uniform. His hair was cut short and would've thought his eyes a bright blue if it weren't for the fact that the man was scowling. Sawyer smirked.

"You won't be smirking when we put you in jail, Mr. Ford," the man said. "Your days were numbered, and now their finally over."

Sawyer's smirk widened. "C'mon, that the best you can do, Blueboy?"

The man drew close to Sawyer as he sucked in a hissing breath. "You watch your m—"

"Officer Raggs, don't you have some paperwork to attend to?"

The man looked back as a woman with a commanding air stepped forward from an inner office and approached. She was wearing a scowl on her face that looked vaguely familiar to Sawyer, like he seen that expression plastered on a much younger face. He mental shook those thoughts away. Naw, couldn't be…

"I wasn't doing anything, Captain Cortez," the man—Raggs—said defensively. He gestured vaguely at Sawyer as the con man's jaw dropped. No way. No WAY. Was he really seeing…
Ana's mom was a cop too!

"This guy was just mouthing off," Raggs was saying as Sawyer's jaw snapped shut. The woman looked him over, and the glare she gave him was too reminiscent of Ana Lucia to be coincidence.

"Whether he was smart mouthing you or not, officer," she snapped briskly, "does not mean you don't have work to handle. Now, get to it."

Raggs glared at him one last time, and Sawyer couldn't help but shoot him a cheeky grin before he walked angrily away. Then he turned back to Captain Cortez and her no-nonsense glare. His grin dropped as she turned away from him momentarily and motion for two big men—Sawyer assumed they were cops as well—to grab Sawyer. They did, one unlocking his cuffs so that he could stand before locking them again around his wrists, and then the two hooked their arms around his shoulders and hauled him bodily into the Captain's office. She followed, her glare still in place.

The two men sat him forcefully down into a chair opposite her as she took a seat behind her desk, and then the two men posted themselves at outside her door. He turned her, but she didn't speak, just glared at him. Sawyer was unnerved. What did she want?

Finally, she spoke," You were with my daughter." It was a statement, not a question, but Sawyer nodded anyway. The older woman was quiet for a moment more. Sawyer fidgeted slightly.

"Why were you with her?" the woman asked. Sawyer looked away.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, lady."

"My daughter has been acting strangely since she had been shot, Mr. Ford," Cortez said firmly. Sawyer looked up with a start. "And there are many factors that contribute to her behavior, but I also know your reputation, and I've seen your file. What are doing with her? Why were with her?"

Shot. She had been shot. Sawyer's mind was reeling with this new information. Ana Lucia. Shot. Here? In this world? How? When? Where? He looked up and met her mother's gaze squarely.

"Where is she now?" Sawyer asked, challenge in his voice. He needed to find her, to know that she was all right. Obviously, her mother knew where she was, but wasn't going to tell him. Her glare intensified.

"Somewhere away from you," the woman answered icily. "Now, answer my questions."

Sawyer kept his mouth shut. Like he'd said before, the woman probably wouldn't believe him even if he told her the long complicated truth. He wasn't even sure about the truth himself, or what hat truth could mean. All he knew was that he needed to get to Ana Lucia, be near here, and if this woman was going to be withholding information, so would he.

Captain Cortez stared at him, and he stared back. Finally, she stood, went to her door and opened it, speaking quietly to the men outside. Sawyer glanced back as the two burly fellows came into the office, groaned when the hauled him from the chair and dragged him outside. Ana Lucia's mother shook her head, said, "Maybe a night in jail will loosen your tongue."

"Not likely," Sawyer retorted as the men hauled him off. He was dragged roughly through the station, many police officers fixing him with cold stares. When passed by Raggs' desk and the man smirked at him, Sawyer blew the man a kiss and a wink. The officer sputtered indignantly, and Sawyer felt a wash of satisfaction. It was short-lived as one of the officer's twisted his arm and he was dragged towards a long, concrete hallway, and beyond it, the holding cells.

"Ah damn," Sawyer muttered, and looked around in a last ditched effort for an escape. He didn't see anyway out, but what he did see shocked the hell out of him.

"BOONE!"

The man in question whirled in surprise. His eyes widened. "Sawyer! Wait!" Boone rushed forward as Sawyer struggled. The men holding him held fast.

"Wait!" Boone shouted. "I don't understand! Sawyer! What's happening! Where're they taking you?"

"You want answers!" Sawyer shouted. Boone nodded imperceptively. "Then get me the HELL OUT OF HERE!" The men grunted, dragging him kicking and fighting down the hallway.

88

"How the hell did you manage it?"

Boone grinned, his brown eyes twinkling as Sawyer stepped out into the cool air of a Los Angeles night as a breeze washed over him. He savored it, swearing on anything and everything holy that he was never going to get himself caught again.

"Paid your bond," Boone replied simply and started down the street towards the precinct police department's parking lot. Sawyer followed him, rubbing his wrists where the cuffs had chafed his skin.

"That was a pretty hefty bond," Sawyer replied, his eyes looking over the young man's face as Boone grinned again and led the con man to his car. Sawyer was still in shock. Boone was dead, or at least he was supposed to be dead. He had been crushed under the weight of a plane on the island. Sawyer had been there when they'd buried him. How in the hell was this kid here, in this world, alive and breathing and…not dead? Just…not dead.

Boone caught Sawyer's look, and immediately understanding, shrugged. "I know, I know. I should be…" His voice trailed off as a scowl lit his features, then the scowl went away just as quickly. "But I'm not. One minute, I feel the blood leaving me and then…I wake up, breathing." He smiled. "It's awesome to not be six feet under."

Sawyer almost smiled himself, didn't, but he was…in a way…glad the spoiled, rich boy was a live. And speaking of rich…

"How the hell did you pay my bond?" Sawyer asked as Boone went to his car, the newest Jaguar model, and unlocked the doors. Boone met his gaze steadily.

"I just paid for it, okay?" Boone replied. "Get in."

Sawyer scowled before nodding and getting in the car. Boone revved the engine and, shifting gears quickly, tore out of the parking lot.

"How much do you remember?" Sawyer asked after a moment. Boone glanced at him, shrugged.

"Not a lot about the island really," he replied. "Enough though. Enough to know I died. Enough to know it hurt like hell. Enough to know that when I woke up here I got myself drunk off my ass until I couldn't see straight for a week."

Sawyer nodded, even though he couldn't understand. He had been in near miss situations, where any wrong thing could have gotten him killed, but to actually die…

"You're handling it well," Sawyer said. Boone grinned at him. They fell silent as Boone drove them through the streets of LA.

He asked, "What about…What about Shannon?"

Boone sighed. "She's in New York. After…After…she told me she had been shot, killed. When she…She took off for New York some time ago. Said she didn't want to be caught up in anymore drama. Said she wanted to go after her second chance. So she hightailed it to the Big Apple. I wished her well."

"Huh." Was all Sawyer said. He thought for a moment, paused. Then said, "Second chance?"

Boone glanced at him, his look unreadable, but Sawyer knew something was up. The same instinct that helped him perform successful con after successful con was screaming at him now. He asked slowly, "What do you know? About this place? About everything?"

Boone looked away, focused on the road. "Not a lot." He smirked. "But I know something." He pulled off on a side road and kept going. "Second chances. Fate. Destiny. There's something about this place. I've been…de-dead long enough in this world to know that something's up." Boone paused, took a deep breath. Said, "When we were on the island, we always felt like something was watching us. Or someone. Like we were under a microscope. Shannon could feel it too, but she didn't want to be bothered. I stayed here. It's like, this place is where it begins."

"It?" Sawyer asked, his heart beating in his chest. Boone glanced at him.

He struggled. "I dunno. Just an 'It'. An energy almost. It feels like I'm in a bubble. Like this place isn't real outside of the bubble, but as long as you stay here, you can believe in a lie."

"A lie?"

Boone nodded slowly. "John could explain it better than me."

"John? John Locke?" Sawyer's eyes widened. Boone nodded again.

"Yeah, John's here too," he replied slowly. "He's…He's here. I'm taking us to him now."

Sawyer fell silent, his thoughts a confused jumble. Alright, so Eko was here, and Kate and Jack, Ana Lucia and Sayid, Boone and now Locke. Sawyer wondered, if they kept looking would they find the whole flight of people lost on that island? And if they did, would everyone's memories somehow give them keys to what the hell was going on? Maybe Ana had been right. If they pieced together everyone's memories, maybe everything would make sense.

He felt his stomach clench. God, he had to find that woman. If he didn't…

If her mother was keeping her from him…

Sawyer gritted his teeth angrily.

"We're here," Boone said simply, cutting off the car and getting out. Sawyer got out with him and looked around. It was a nice neighborhood, neat little, manicured lawns laid out in neat, little rows side-by-side. The house that they had parked in front of was a one-story bungalow with a few exotic, potted plants underneath the windows.
"My house," Boone said by way of explanation. Sawyer said nothing and followed him inside. The inside of the house was nice, comfortable and clearly owned by a bachelor. Sawyer looked around, glancing down a hallway. There was only one bedroom at the end of it. His eyebrow rose and he glanced at Boone as the young man called, "John! John, come out here a minute."

And speak of the devil, the man came walking out of the kitchen with a familiarity that made Sawyer's other eyebrow join the first and the two rise to his hairline.

"Sawyer?" John Locke said in surprise. Sawyer stuck out his hand.

"Mr. Clean," the con man said by way of greeting. Locke's lips quirked slightly in amusement. He turned to Boone, said, "So, I'm guessing we have to get ready for a long, drawn out discussion, huh?"

"I guessing that would be helpful," Boone replied, meeting Locke's eyes. Sawyer nearly did a double take. No. No way. His eyes nearly widened when he saw something passing through Boone's eyes that he'd seen a number of times when he charmed many a-woman into believing in his schemes. Sawyer glanced at Locke, the same expression was dancing in his eyes. He wanted to shake his head in disbelief; this night was just getting stranger and stranger.

Finally, Locke tore his eyes away from Boone, looked at Sawyer and cleared his throat uncomfortably. Sawyer wisely kept his mouth shut and said instead, "Maybe we should take this to the St. Christopher's downtown. I have a priest who'd been dying to meet you."

Locke looked surprised. "Eko? Eko's here?"

Sawyer nodded.

"That guy, on the island, who came after I had…That guy you told me about?" Boone asked, curiously. Locke nodded, hurried off. When he came back, he was carrying to coats. One for Boone and the other for himself. Sawyer didn't want to think about why Boone and Locke were sharing closet space, he didn't. He just wanted to get back to the Church, talk to Eko, tell him about Ana Lucia and her mother and what happened.

His stomach grew queasy. God, he hoped nothing had happened to her.

"Alright," Boone was saying. "Let's go."

888

Author's Note: After a long and drawn out process, this baby was born, and while it doesn't provide much in the way of answers, it forms the basis of answers that I'll be slowly revealing. BWAHA!

Okay, now onto the apologies. SORRY EVERYBODY! I got back from orientation, and then I realized, "Holy Lostzilla and Polar Bears, Batman! My muse has deserted me!" Apparently, my muse thought it was funny to change my song of inspiration for the piece and then not tell me which new song she changed it to. So then I had to comb through my computer trying to find it, and then all my CDs and some obscure tapes that I didn't remember I owned until FINALLY I discovered it: Aqualung's "Strange & Beautiful". Whew! So, this is a product of listening to that song and staring at Windows Media Player's Alchemy: Random screen thingie GAWD the COLORS!dies

Ahem...so, I apologize and am working on the other chapters of this baby as we speak. Adieu, and THANX FOR THE REVIEWS!

PS: To all you Locke and/or Boone lovers, sorry for the implied...impliedness...Consequently, I had a friend read this over for me and as she is a conneiseur of...well...slash, she told me she would refuse me any cookies until I gave her...something. waves cookie So, I got my cookie and she got her fun, and if you feel slight disturbed, blame her points--