Chapter Three

Sawyer had headed back to the bunks to 'rest,' now that he was out of having to push the buttons. Ana knew that the jerk had cheated, but she was grateful for what he had unwittingly done for her. He had given her some relief from her pain. Telling him part of what was burdening her provided the relief that she didn't get from telling Jack. Maybe it was because she was still too close to it, or maybe it was what Sawyer had said, that maybe the others realized that it was an accident.

She sat on the couch, wondering about her interaction with Sawyer. He was really different from everyone else in the group. She knew he probably wasn't well-loved by everyone. She didn't have much love for him either, his cavalier way with his friend's life, his selfishness, and his apparent ego, all made for a man that usually wasn't worth her time.

Yet, as she thought about what had happened earlier, he reminded her of those guys she had worked with on the force. Some were just as ignorant as Sawyer, but in the end, they were decent human beings. She knew that Sawyer had secrets like everyone else, but she remembered the guilt that flinted across his eyes when he told her it was an accident. It seemed that he was speaking more for himself than her. She understood that he was trying to make up for the callous remark about the woman's death.

Shannon, dammit. Say her name, she reminded herself. She had avoided Shannon's name like the bubonic plague, but she knew she would have to acknowledge Shannon's personhood. Avoiding Shannon's name was not doing anything to help her heal and understand the guilt she felt about the shooting. She could not fear it because she needed to finally face it and deal with it. Being able to say Shannon's name meant recognizing what she had done and who she took from everyone.

Sighing, she leaned back into her seat, thinking about herself. Since she had gotten into the hatch, she had gone from happiness to serious depression to mildly entertained, all in a span of two hours. All because of one man. She had to admit that she liked talking to Sawyer. He gave her a focal point for releasing her tension. And if she told herself the truth, she did find him sexy. His gravelly voice, deep and cool, like a smooth jazz musician, the sure way he carried himself. It was very appealing. He was a breath of fresh air when she felt like she'd been suffocating.

She laughed to herself, remembering how his face had screwed up at the comparison to Jack. The fact that those two were fighting it out to become the alpha male came as no surprise to her. Jack was a natural leader and Sawyer, the rebel-without-a-cause maverick. Both had a lot of qualities that would appeal to women. Jack probably was the one people flocked to because he was a doctor and a lot more straight-forward than Sawyer, who had shady written all over his face.

Sawyer hated being compared to Jack because he knew he'd never measure up. But Ana liked people for being real. Even when she was a cop, before the shooting, she had known criminals who had more honor than some of the people on the force. Some people just liked playing on the edge. And though she couldn't abide by their behavior, she had plenty of homeboys on the street that would back her up if she ever called on them. Hell, she didn't have to shoot that bastard who stole so much from her. She could name five or six guys who would fight for the chance to do it for her. Sawyer was like one of those guys. If you gained his trust, there probably wasn't much he wouldn't do for you.

Ana liked Sawyer. Maybe they could be friends, or at the very least, if she had to do button-babysitting duty, she would prefer to do it with him over anyone else. That was funny since she liked Jack, too. But as much as she would enjoy Jack's company, it wouldn't be the same. She mentally shrugged. Maybe it would be the same, but right now, she wanted to be with Sawyer.

Ana stood and walked out. When she got to the bunks, she found Sawyer knocked out on his bed. Watching him sleep, she realized that he was still sick from the infection in his arm. She hadn't noticed it before, probably because he was making a great effort to hide it, or she was too lost in her own problems to care. But he still had a waxy appearance, his breathing was heavy and the sweat was more prominent on his face and exposed chest.

She turned, walking to the makeshift kitchen. Grabbing a cloth she found there, she ran cool water over it and a glass of cool water. She took both back to the bunks. She placed the water on the shelf to her right and laid the cloth over his forehead.

He woke slightly. "Hey, Chica, what ya doin'?"

"Just being nice." She reached for the glass and handed to him.

Sawyer stared at her warily but took the glass, catching the cloth with his other hand as it slipped from his forehead. He drank deeply and handed the empty glass back to her. She took it without comment.

"Rest up, Billy Bob." She turned and walked away from him.

"Thanks, Ana," he whispered.

She turned back in surprise, but he was asleep again. Smiling, she turned for the living room.

Sawyer felt completely exhausted. Though he had healed and the fever was down, he knew that he was far from being completely over his infection. He still felt tired and nauseated sometimes. He had gone to his bunk for a quick nap.

Once his head hit the pillow, his eyes closed, but sleep was elusive. He kept thinking about the woman sitting down in the hatch. Ana Lucia was a strange one indeed. She had her share of problems but even he would admit that she was a strong leader and did what was necessary to protect those around her. Though he initially hated the girl, he found he liked that she was truly unimpressed by him. She was funny and straight-up honest. She wasn't trying to con him, but she was nobody's fool. She could read him like a book and it had been awhile since he laughed as much as he had with her.

Sayid told her she was already dead. Sawyer wondered why. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, but he saw what talking about Shannon did to the woman's soul. Whatever happened in her past and since crashing on the island, Shannon's shooting was the straw that broke the camel's back. Ana was fighting herself, although he was willing to bet anything that nobody realized the depths of this woman's pain. She only let him get a glimpse of it. It shocked him because he didn't think she thought enough of him to share anything like that.

The discussion about Kate and Jack gave him even more insight into the woman. It was obvious that she liked Jack, but she wasn't going to play the two-step with him and Kate. He knew that she was the type of woman that would be honest with whomever she digs. Or if she was confused, she would speak on it and not run back and forth using them to satisfy whatever need she has at a given moment.

As much as Sawyer liked Freckles, he found himself drawn to Ana. The G.I. Jane was too refreshing. Whatever they were starting down in the hatch, and at the moment he wasn't sure what it was, he knew that it was honest. He didn't have to worry about getting played for a fool by her. He didn't have to walk on eggshells with her. She could take what he dished out and he missed having someone around who could take it as well as give it, like he could.

A faint smile formed on his lips. He remembered her smacking her ass. He loved watching it moved in the jeans. She had spoken the truth--he did like her body. It was fit and strong, yet curvy and soft in all the right places. He wondered what it would be like to have her full lips on his while his hands ran over her skin, caressing her neck and back, her chest resting against his, the heat between them rising as her hands slid down his chest…

His eyes flew open. He found the object of his dream laying a cool cloth on his forehead.

"What's up, Chica?"

"Just being nice," she had responded softly. She reached for the water as Sawyer tried to determine whether his imagination was playing tricks on him.

When she offered him the glass of water, he stared at it as if it might disappear, until he took and realized he truly wasn't dreaming. After a drink, he laid back down, going back to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He remembered whispering her name before he did, and seeing her soft, warm smile.

Damn, what is going on with me?