Finally I have penned chapter 2...or at least part of it.

Just some deep Ana thoughts in this one. It's a lot shorter than the first chapter but like I said it is only half and I really wanted to get this bit out...to see what people reckon.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or it's characters.

Chapter 2

She allowed a deep, weary sigh to escape her lips as she leant back heavily against Sawyer's many suitcases, for once giving herself a rare luxury of being comfortable. Comfortable and still.

There hadn't been a single day within the past month that she had been able to simply sit and reflect. She suspected that she'd probably not even come to terms with what had befallen them all on the doomed flight 815. She'd just not had the time, instead she had focused all of her efforts, both day and night, onto helping the other survivor's overcome their traumas.

They had needed a leader. They had needed desperately for someone to take charge of them and steer them towards survival instead of leaving them there, standing on the beach screaming and crying and waiting to die. And she had been that leader. She had been the one who had told them what to do and how to do it. She had stepped up to the task and she had done what she'd had to do. No way in hell had she wanted to die there on that beach, on this island. It hadn't taken a miracle for her to figure out that she stood a better chance of actually remaining alive if there was a group of them and she hadn't been about to let a collection of traumatised plane-crash survivors die and be her downfall. She didn't plan on dying for a long time…she had too much to lose.

But suddenly, she found herself replaced. Her efforts to lead and keep them out of danger no longer required. She wasn't a leader anymore and that was possibly why she allowed herself to remain in Sawyer's shelter longer than perhaps she should, longer than she definitely would have back in the real world. She wasn't the one who they looked to for help and direction anymore…Jack had assumed that role now. Had become their leader, the Head Honcho, the 'Chief Rabbit' as she and Sawyer had likened him to moments previously. And yet, she didn't doubt that Doctor Sheppard was better equipped both mentally and physically for the task…or that he was better liked.

Libby had taken to the other survivors like a duck to water, offering her help and opinion to Jack and Kate whenever she could and making firm friends with the island's young mother, Claire, and with Jin's wife, Sun. Ana rarely saw hide or hair of the blonde woman anymore.

It was good that Libby and the rest of her group had adapted so well to life with the larger survivor society. It kept her out of Ana's hair. Stopped her from continually trying to psychoanalyse her, to second guess her, to figure her out. Sure, Libby had been a therapist back in the 'real world' but if she had asked Ana one more time "how did she feel" about something, Ana might actually have considered garrotting her!

Libby had more in common with the other surviving women anyway. Ana had never really been one for girl-talk but Claire, Sun and the others seemed to thrive upon it and she could never begrudge Libby any happiness that she found in the company of the other female survivors. They needed all the happiness that they could muster.

She shifted again, drawing a knee up and resting an elbow upon it so that she could in turn support her head with that hand.

It didn't bother her much. It didn't irk her as perhaps it would someone else had they been in her position. She'd never had many firm female friends and if she had, she'd never been able to keep them for long. It had a lot to do with the fact that she, herself, had a hot temper and a sharp tongue and she had never been afraid to use either when she had deemed it necessary. She wasn't about to change for anyone and she had alienated many people that way over the years, most recently with Kate.

The main problem however stemmed from the ease with which she befriended men. Sure, it was all fine to begin with, the women and wives announcing that it was perfectly normal for work colleagues such as Ana-Lucia and their husbands or partners to socialise. Everyone was entitled to their recreation and it was the twenty first century after all! A man and a woman could be just friends…But they never believed their own words for very long and their and their husband's friendship with Ana hadn't lasted much longer after that.

Ana-Lucia rested her head back onto one of the suitcases, gazing up at the blue plastic sheet that covered the shelter and prevented the heavy jungle precipitation from soaking her to the skin. Tree branches shifted overhead in the light breeze, making patterns swirl and sway a darker blue across the roof, accompanied by the drumming raindrops.

Life, it seemed, was content to never run smoothly for her, whether she was back in civilization or stranded upon a god-forsaken island that might actually be the death of her.

-Flashback-

She clenched her jaw, dark brown eyes glaring at the aging man sat comfortable behind his desk before her. His fingers laced together languidly as his own stare clashed with hers above them. Obviously he didn't think that she deserved the apology that she had come for.

"You're firing me!" she stated, breaking the silence finally, words barbed with fury as she watched his pale, work worn face.

"No, Ana." he countered, speaking to her as if she were a child who simply didn't understand her math homework. "You are being dismissed. The board think-"

"Screw the board!" she interrupted with a hiss and a jerk of her chin. "Tell me the god damn truth for once in your life, Carlton!"

Her demand was met by a tight-lipped glance of impatience. She could tell that she was beginning to irritate him, that she was pushing her luck further than it was willing to go.

Finally, Carlton smoothed the finger and thumb of one hand across his narrow, greying moustache and continued with a reluctant sigh.

"We feel-I feel, that you have been abusing your position on the force, Cortez." he announced with a shake of his large head. "It has been brought to our attention that you have been using our resources, police resources, to pull up the files of and to find out the whereabouts of several men named…" he paused, reaching a large, callused hand across his desk to grasp a printed sheet of paper. He squinted his eyes, scrutinizing the list of small, hard, black type. "Roberto Sawyer, Robert Sawyer, Bobby Sawyer, Bob Sawyer…and so on and so forth." he placed the sheet back down, smoothing the page flat before again fixing his glare upon Ana-Lucia's scowl. "Would you like to tell me who these men are? What you were thinking when you went through our records, police records, classified records, searching for them? Would you like to tell me how they are connected to you, because from where I am sitting, Ana, it looks very much like you are consorting with the criminals that we are trying to hunt down."

Ana-Lucia clenched her teeth together, turning her furious gaze instead to the wall directly behind Carlton's grey-haired head. She took a deep breath in through her nose, clasping her hands behind her back in a stance that had been ingrained into her from her five years upon the police force.

"Do you want me to clear out my desk now, Sir?" she asked, placing enough emphasis upon her superior's title to make it sound less than respectful and to make sure that he knew that she wasn't about to cooperate anytime soon.

Carlton sighed wearily, shaking his head again and pinching the bridge of his nose, disappointed that she had chosen not to explain.

"Yes. Yes, alright then, Cortez. If this is the way that you want to play it." he raised his bristly chin, squaring his hard, dark blue gaze onto her once more though this time it was without the friendliness that it had held previously. "I want you off the premises in one hour. Do I make myself clear?"

-End Flashback-

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