Chapter 3.

She wasn't there.

His eyes searched the small crowd that had gathered to send them off, to wish them luck and speed them on their way. His gaze scored across them, looking desperately over heads and around shoulders, trying to seek her familiar form out. But it was a fruitless task no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't find her if she wasn't there to find in the first place.

Countless slaps rained down onto his back. A multitude of hands clasped his in brisk, firm shakes and suddenly and inexplicably, once more he was back in everyone's favour. No longer the man that they had scowled at and talked about behind raised hands as they had done the prior evening. Even Charlie beamed and talked him up a storm of good luck. Oh how fickle people were. It made him smirk to himself until his first train of thought returned to haunt him and his amusement died upon his lips.

She wasn't there.

They'd not had a true fight since they had embarked upon their 'dangerous liaison'. They had not had more than teasing arguments or fights that ended up in an activity that was a far more enjoyably pastime than even baiting her had become and they had been in each other's company every hour of every day and night for that past few weeks, since they had upped sticks and 'moved-in' together. He was actually surprised that they hadn't argued properly before now. Actually he was shocked, especially when he had discovered that Ana had been due 'on the rag' five days into their new living arrangements, but she'd not even mentioned it, let alone complained about it as most of the previous women he'd had a relationship with had. She'd not even raised her voice once or broke into a furious and inexplicable rage. That day, Sawyer had thanked his lucky stars, thanked God that he'd found a woman that wouldn't be a nightmare to live with during her 'time of the month'.

But the inevitable had occurred. He knew that they had been bound to piss one another off at some point in their tumultuous coupling and so it had come about. The first true fight.

Perhaps he had been overly hopeful to think that she would put aside their current differences and turn up to say 'goodbye', after his actions and provocation. Perhaps he had been naïve to think that his hope of smoothing things out before he disappeared into the 'Jungle of Mystery', had counted for anything. Would she still be so furious towards him when he returned? If he returned? Would she care if he didn't?

The second that his thoughts turned down that path, he knew that he was being ridiculous. He was thinking irrationally, shocked into doing so by her absence for the entirety of the night before. He forced himself to take a deeper breath to steady himself, his palpitating heartbeat, and replaced his cocky smirk, fixed upon his lips.

They were linked together now, whether either of them liked it or not. They were connected by their shared past and their desire to forget it, put it behind them and strive for something better. For something that so many wasted years of anguish made them deserving of.

Of course she would care if he never returned! She may be furious with him at that particular moment, furious enough to leave their conflict unresolved, to not bid him 'farewell' before he left, but she was by no means immune to her relatively newly discovered feelings for him. She would care. She did. Or so he kept telling himself, fighting the doubt buzzing at the back of his mind.

"Alright." Locke's deceptively calm and light voice called out from where the older man stood, huddled together with Kate and Sayid, like three witches over their cauldron, considering Rousseau's maps. "We better get started if we want to make it up those mountains before nightfall." he waved his hand, callused, work and weather worn, in the vague direction of their first destination and the other members of the group shouldered their packs and set about saying their final 'goodbyes'.

Sawyer continued to watch from the outskirts, alternating his gaze between the different interactions taking place. From the tearful and tender between Shannon and Sayid that made him want to hurl up what small amount of food he had actually eaten that morning, to the equally nauseating stiff and self-conscious kiss exchanged between Kate and the good doctor. Even Michael got himself a smile, a warm embrace and a peck on the cheek from Libby no less. Sawyer raised his eyebrows at that little development which seemed to have sprung up during the night as swiftly as his own relationship had deteriorated. Perhaps there was something to that crazy mantra about pleasure and pain needing to be equalled out, but again he forced his mind free from such worries and returned his gaze to scouring the gathering once more.

He was apparently the outcast again, though not, this time, because of their irritation towards him. Even Locke and Eko had someone to wish them well on their journey, hoping that they would return unscathed. A disgruntled looking Charlie, quite literally was left holding the baby, while Claire offered both men, though Locke more so that the Nigerian man, cheerful words and a smile that would dazzle any man.

And he was the abnormality. The loner stood, hands thrust deep in his pockets to keep him from chewing anxiously upon his thumbnail, a habit he'd picked up from Ana it seemed over the past days they had shared, as he waited for his companions to be ready. He had never been a patient man.

"Good luck, dude." Hurley's voice was more cheerful than it had been last time they had exchanged words and Sawyer turned to glance up at him from the corner of his blue eyes.

"Yeah? What d'you care?" he snorted in an unconvinced response and Hurley raised his large hands in surrender, in a placating gesture as his eyebrows quirked.

"Just sayin', dude." he countered, tone still deceptively light. This Hurley, stood beside him as he gazed down onto the other survivors milling around together was a different man, a complete contrast to the Hurley of the previous night. His voice no longer warning, not harsh and concerned like it had been, but something did lie heavy between them as they stood. Something made the air about them thick with tension and Sawyer doubted that it was the larger man's fear for his well-being and safe return. "So…You, like…nervous or somethin'?"

Sawyer replied with a simple shrug of his shoulders, a gesture that no longer caused him such terrible pain, and remained silent, waiting to see what it was exactly that Hurley had come to say to him. It was about Ana. That much he was certain of. He could tell from the way that Hurley shuffled his feet nervously, from the weight of the larger man's stare upon him from time to time as the seconds trickled by into minutes.

"While you're out there, dude…just…don't get yourself maimed or killed or something stupid like that." he grunted finally, breaking the prickling silence that lay around them, drawing Sawyer's gaze towards him fully, curiosity and a slight puzzlement quirking his eyebrows up.

"Aw, I didn't know you cared. There somethin' you ain't tellin' me, Jabba?" he allowed himself a chuckle, though it held little true joviality, shaking his head and removing his hands from his pockets so he could fold his arms across his chest defensively. Hurley ignored his newest, and possibly most insulting epithet yet received from the Southerner and shrugged as Sawyer had a moment prior. His dark eyes squinted against the bright sunlight but also the intruding stare now focused entirely upon him.

"Last night, Ana told me that you better come back alive and in one piece, otherwise she'd kill you herself." a barely suppressed smirk flickered across Hurley's lips as he purposely kept his gaze away from the man beside him and Sawyer could do little more to respond to that revelation than chuckle in relief.

"She said that, huh?" he queried with feigned mild interest and Hurley hummed his affirmation.

While things weren't right between him and Ana-Lucia at present, Hurley's words offered him some comfort at least. Comfort that he could have used while attempting to get some sleep ready for their hike through the jungle. But Sawyer was merely please that Hurley's words hinted that while Ana was very, very pissed off with him, she didn't truly hate him as he had feared and he resisted the urge to release his breath in a whoosh. To wipe nervous sweat from his brow. He contemplated dropping his bag then and there and going to find her to put things right, but before that thought could take a hold of him fully, Michael clapped a hand onto his shoulder, drawing his attention elsewhere.

"You all ready, man?" he queried with a wide, easy smile and a small pat upon his back and in return Sawyer feigned a grin in return. Though his dimples appeared, emblazoning his cheeks, it never reached as far as his sapphire eyes and the squeeze that the other man gave him confirmed that Michael was perceptive enough to sense Sawyer's current disappointment that Ana had not appeared.

"Lets hit the road, Papa Midnite." Sawyer cleared his voice of any previous emotions felt and shrugged away Michael's comfort before turning to Hurley once more and lowering his tone to a mere rumble. "Keep an eye on her, Super-Size Me. Make sure she's okay…happy." he lowered his voice, coughing when he had finished and rubbing at the back of his neck in discomfort. "Just…tell her I said 'goodbye', huh?"

Hurley looked down, deep into Sawyer's eyes and twisted his lips as if he were considering the other man's request seriously.

"Should be your job, dude…" he countered almost reproachfully but he nodded eventually as the other rescue team members began moving off and away into the jungle. "But, yeah. Sure. Whatever. See you 'round."

-oOo-
She had intended to stay away, that morning. To stay apart from the sending off of the expedition. But as she had sat alone upon the eerily deserted beach, tent flaps and drying clothes flapping in the early morning breeze, she had felt the urge to be there, to witness the departure at least, overcome her current anger at Sawyer.

And so she stood watching him as he conversed stiffly with Hurley, no doubt talking about her and what looked like her continued absence. She could tell that Sawyer was bother by it from the way that his gaze swept the crowd every few minutes, seconds even. He tried to search for her covertly, but the look on Hurley's face betrayed that Sawyer, the unfathomable, unreadable, questionable motives Sawyer, was loosing his secretive, enigmatic touch.

She would have smirked at his actions if she hadn't been overcome with emotions too numerous and conflicting to mention.

Yes, she was still angry at his treatment of her and his lack of defence for her. Yes, she felt guilty for not putting their differences aside before he left for God knew how long. Of course she was worried about him getting hurt or worse, killed. He'd been stabbed and shot and beaten up numerous times, by her included, and she wasn't sure how much more punishment his body would actually be able to take.

She couldn't bring herself to face him, however. She couldn't say 'goodbye'. That was the top and bottom of her predicament. Not that she didn't want to. Not that she was too furious to step out and say it. She could not let it slip past her lips. She wouldn't. She'd bite her tongue clean off before she let that word pass from her throat to Sawyer's ears.

Every time she had told someone 'goodbye'…they had never returned to her.

-Flashback-

"No!"

She screamed. She sobbed. She begged.

Her Mama stood in the open kitchen doorway, arms wrapped tightly about herself for support, folded in upon herself as tears welled in her dark eyes.

"No! No! Papi! You can't go! Don't go! Don't go!"

Ana-Lucia's voice was hoarse. Her throat prickled and scratched worse than the time she had caught tonsillitis and been ill all last Christmas. But she didn't care. She fisted her tiny, white-knuckled hands into the dark, pinstripe suit material of her father's trouser leg, tugging as hard as she could. With all of her sever year old might.

"No!"

Her sisters stood beside their Mama silently. Older than Ana, they understood where she did not. They scowled up at the man that they had called 'Papi', his black hair slicked back into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck, around which was draped a thick gold chain. His moustache and beard neatly trimmed. His suit, no doubt bought by the money from his new 'girlfriend', immaculately pressed…all save for the creases that little Ana-Lucia's fists were creating.

"I'll be a good girl, Papi! I won't be naughty ever again!" she gasped through her hysterical crying. "I'll do real good in school! I won't fight no more! I promise, Papi!"

Roberto Cortez stopped in his escape from the house when she wrapped her thin arms about his leg and physically prevented him, halted him in his steps and made him look down at her, dark eye tinged with impatience.

"Aneila!" he called to her Mama, voice deeper than Ana remembered, with a strange accent he had never used before. But her Mama shook her head, and disappeared into the kitchen, slipping away from the three of her daughters who stood beside her unmoving and Ana's Tia Lila who glowered down at her soon to be ex-brother-in-law.

"No, Roberto. You're the one breaking that little girl's heart. Your daughter's heart. You can deal with her. You can tell her why you're leaving. It's your problem of your own making. You deal with it!" Tia Lila's voice was hard and cold and her eyes narrowed at her Papi's tight, clenched face.

"Shut up, Lila. For Christ's sakes!" he snarled reaching down.

The words made Ana cry harder. A salty wet patch of emotion soaking into the leg of his trousers where she clung, burying her face but she felt hands close firmly around her wrists like her sister, Maria's toy handcuffs when she fastened them too tightly. She felt those hands force her away from where she gripped so forcefully, though not forcefully enough.

"No! No, no, no, no! NO!" she screeched at that top of her lungs as he lifted her up, hands underneath her armpits, holding her kicking and screaming form at arms length.

"Ana." he said firmly.

"No!" she was hysterical. She couldn't breathe. She was beginning to choke and retch with the sheer force of her tantrum.

"Ana!" he tried again, louder, but she simply shook her ebony ringlet covered head and scrunched her eyes up so tightly that they hurt and stung more so.

"NO!" she kicked her legs at him that time, wriggling harder in his grasp so that he almost dropped her.

"Ana-Lucia Cortez!" his voice boomed out through the hallway, making her sisters gasp and jump with fright. His accent had returned to normal then. It regained it's Mexican twang.

And she fell silent save for the gasps of breath and hiccoughing sobs.

"You will stop this noise." he stated, repeating it again when she opened her mouth to protest or offer a smart retort until she nodded in accordance. "And you will be a good girl and go to your Mama. Always be a good girl for her, yes?"

Ana nodded again, watching his face, the face of the man that she loved dearly, had looked up to since she could remember, through tear swollen, red eyes.

"And now you will tell me 'goodbye'. Yes?"

Ana refused to respond or acknowledge that she had heard him speak that final time.

"Ana?"

She turned her face away and wriggled to be put down onto her own feet once more.

"Ana-Lucia!" he shook her slightly, stopping her struggling and making her look up into his face again. One final time as he placed her on her feet and knelt before her.

"Goodbye." she mumbled, through tears and choked gulps of air into her oxygen starved lungs. And he smiled at her then. Her Papi smiled at her one last time as he patted her on her curly head.

"Good girl." he responded, straightening and brushing the creases from his suit's trouser leg. "Goodbye, Ana-Lucia. Now go to your Mama."

-End Flashback-

-oOo-