Heh. Sorry bout not updating sooner. But...I have good new! The Laptop Saga has ended with triumph for the forces of good! I have my laptop back and fixed and ready to rock and roll! Wayhay. And so here is the next chapter...or part of it. I'm not sure whether to make the next chapter into a continuation because it kind of cfollows directly on. Oh well, I'll wait and see.

I hope you like this chapter. Might be a bit muddled so far but it'll get straightened out later on. Hopefully now I'll be able to update more frequently.

Anywho, thanks for continuing to read this and for sticking with me through technical difficulties!

Later!

Chapter 8.

The jungle was bathed in darkness. Blackness so absolute that she could barely make out the faint outlines of the trees and scrub along the familiar winding pathway to the hatch, highlighted by the weak moonlight that managed to struggle past the thunderous, oppressive clouds that she could sense rather than see gathering overhead.

The air was hot and heavy. A constant pressure upon every inch of her skin, exposed or otherwise. It thrummed with a deep, vibrating current that ran through her and made her feel sick deep in her stomach. What it was, she couldn't tell, but it made her movements sluggish. Feet heavy as she trudged onwards. Hands feeling as if they had swollen to twice their usual size. She felt like she was moving through deep water, hindered by it's unyielding form.

And yet she continued on towards the hatch to take her shift as Jack had asked of her, stumbling over tree roots and rocks that went unseen by her wary eyes which were too intent on searching the shadows for danger.

Something didn't feel right. Something about the tang of the air was different. Metallic even. The darkness was closer, heavier. It moved and twined and shifted as she strode cautiously on, as if it were somehow alive, writhing black beasts or the shadows of them at least. It made her head spin, combined with the hot air and the headiness of the night.

The jungle was silent, save for the almost buzz that she couldn't quite hear, like the warning that the body gave out to let the brain know that it was about to faint. All the chatter of the birds and insects and wildlife had paused as if taking an awed breath, an inhalation held in anticipation of the events playing out below their perches and nests and above their burrows and warrens and dens. It was as if they knew what was on the brink of happening where Ana did not. As if they were part of the thing that lurked their, just beyond occurrence. But she shook those thoughts away almost a swiftly as they had been sparked in her. She was being ridiculous. It was more than likely the storm gathering overhead that had caused the eerie silence. All animals went quiet before a storm…didn't they? Perhaps it was even the coming thunder that made the air electric and the deep thrum of worry pool in her belly. Perhaps it was what was making her feel sick.

Her thoughts suddenly and unintentionally wandered to Sawyer of all people as she laid a palm against a tree trunk to steady herself on the uneven ground.

'You're gettin' yourself all worked up 'bout nothin', Chica.' he would tell her, tossing his head back and laughing at her. 'Just 'cause you got a funny feelin' in your toe?'

She could almost hear his relentless teasing, his amusement released in barking laughs until she usually forgot her fears and either socked him one, laughed along with him or landed a kiss upon him to shut him the hell up. But she softened in her remembrance slightly. Distraction was Sawyer's game, his way of calming her down and changing her attention from one thing to something less damaging than fear or anger. That was his way. It was what he had been trying to do that night before he left, but that time he had been attempting to keep her angry at him in order to stop her from fighting to be taken on the rescue mission and he had known her well enough to realise that she would fight until the bitter end for something that she wanted. His little stunt had done it's desired job alright. Had made her so furious that she couldn't think of anything else until it was too late and the 'hunting party' had set off on their way.

The reasons he had for not wanting her on the trek escaped her and she had puzzled over them for hours, since he had joined the group against her, making sure that she stay on the beach to 'watch his empire' as he had put it. Was it male pride? The whole, 'Me man. Me protect woman' charade? Was it really because he was thinking twice about choosing her over Mary Poppins practically perfect in every way Kate? She was still no closer to fathoming his motives and part of her niggled with worry that it was the latter of her notions. Why she was bothered was another enigma to her. Like she had thought before, when conversing with Jack, she owed Sawyer nothing, not loyalty really, it wasn't as if they were married or anything, no pre-nuptial agreement stating that if either were unfaithful that they would bleed the other dry of everything they had ever and would ever own. And so the reverse was also pertinent. Sawyer owed her nothing. They were just two people living together for mutual benefit in the aftermath of a trauma. They would probably never have hooked up back in civilisation. She would probably have locked up guys like Sawyer when she'd been on the force. They'd more than likely go their separate ways if they ever got rescued and though Ana tried desperately to tell herself that that was fine by her, what she wanted actually, she couldn't shake the growing feeling of not only fear that he would leave her, but hurt that he might consider doing so.

Only Sawyer himself knew his reason, and silently she promised herself that as soon as she saw him again, before she smacked him upside his head for ditching her, before she apologised to him for the way she had acted and even before she gave him a fitting and private welcome home party, she would ask him why exactly he had wanted to keep her in the dark. Keep her at the beach where she was of no good to anyone really, except Claire when she wanted to hide from Charlie.

"Where the hell are you when I damn need you, Sawyer?" she demanded aloud suddenly, to the dark trees and bushes, through clenched teeth as she strode carefully on.

That was when she heard it, in response to her own rhetorical question. A sound that she didn't realise that she had heard until her bewildered mind ran over it again.

At first she dismissed it as her imagination playing tricks on her. She was tired and worked up, that was all. She wasn't going mad. She wasn't hearing things. And she doubled her pace until she heard it again, louder. Familiar. So familiar that she stopped mid-stride and had to resist the urge to turn around and run towards it. Instead she spun slowly where she stood, eyes fearful and yet hopeful in the same glance. And she saw it, eyes widening with disbelief at what they beheld.

"Howdy, Sugar. I'm right here."

-oOo-
Sawyer's feet hit the uneven, downwards sloping jungle floor with so much force that the soles of his feet ached. His body, a blur, moving almost too fast for his legs to keep up with as gravity conspired to send him sprawling.

Locke was beside him, keeping pace well for an older man who had injured his leg not so long ago which had led to the tragic demise of Boone. Away to his other side, Sayid was another streak against the pitch black backdrop of the trees that they wove through.

The screaming had grown louder in a crescendo that had made Sawyer's ears ring, before fading out almost entirely, now no more than a pitiful wailing resembling something akin to an animal's mourning call. It was accompanied by voices murmuring, voices that could have belonged to Mike and Freckles, but where to indistinct to place a bet on it being them. He'd heard the whispers in the jungle before, hissing in his ear only to ebb when he spun to find the speaker. What if it was the Others come after them again? And they were all now running into certain death? What if they'd taken Mickey D and Freckles? Or worse? What if the screams, which had all of a sudden turned into silence, had belonged to Kate?

He halted his train of thought before it could go any further, before he could think something wicked like 'thank god he had stopped Ana from coming along' at the expense of Kate, and proving to himself once more that he was a nasty piece of work deep down. He fixed determination there in the forefront of his mind instead of concern, increasing his speed even though his lungs were burning like a btch and his vision was becoming blurry.

"Over here!" Michael's voice bellowed out from between the thick trees, which seemed to have moved themselves closer together of their own accord to keep the three sprinting men from passing through, and the relief that shot through Sawyer astounded him, nearly sent his adrenalin fuelled body crashing to his knees. "Over here! We need some help, man!"

They traversed together, in time like three wing-mates who had flown together for years, turning to their collective right. Locke and Sayid breeched the edge of the clearing first as exhaustion and fading adrenaline had begun to make Sawyer's movements slower. Then, out of nowhere it seemed, came Eko, silent as a shade from the grave, slipping past him from behind where he had apparently been watching their backs for them.

Sawyer gave a dry cough as the air he clawed into his body made his throat ragged, using a tree to support himself as he too entered the clearing, finally taking in the scene playing out before them.

His eyes widened in shock.

"Well, I'll be damned!" was all that passed his lips between breaths and a steadying heartbeat.

-oOo-
"What the hell are you doing here! I thought you left with-"

Sawyer raised his hand for silence, grinning his dimpled grin all the while at her stunned expression. His other hand clutched something down by his side.

"Never mind that now, huh?" he grinned wider again, if that was at all possible. His cockiness there, his bravado, but there was something about him that was not quite…right. Something was missing. Different. He was changed somehow.

"Sawyer, I-" she tried again to get her words out over her astonishment that made her throat close over and her tongue thick and heavy, but once again he shushed her, holding out the thing that his hand clutched for her to see.

The first thunder rippled over their heads. One, one thousand. Two, one thousand. Three, one thousand. Four, one thousand. Five, one thou-

Lightened streaked, illuminating everywhere blindingly. Then it was gone. Dark again.

Five miles away.

"Lookit, Chica." Sawyer chuckled, his voice a rumbling growl, one that she had missed terribly even though he had only been gone a single day. "Lookit."

He sounded like a little boy excited about showing off his favourite possession to a friend and she had to suppress her own smirk of amusement.

A million thoughts raced through her mind all at once, jumbling them together almost into incoherence. Why was he back? Was it because of her? Speak, or think, of the Devil! But like her smirk she suppressed all of her disjointed, half hearted misgivings. She only cared that he was there standing in the pre-storm darkness before her. She wasn't bothered right then about the how's and why'. She'd ponder over them later…much later.

"You're not lookin'!" he growled suddenly, sounding hurt almost and that time her smile broke across her face freely.

"Alright, alright! I'll look at the damn thing! Keep your pants on!" she bit out her reply in feigned annoyance, stepping back over the distance between them and capturing his wrist, strangely cold in the mugginess surrounding them, to keep it still. "Well?" she glanced up at him briefly before sending her eyes back down to his curled hand expectantly, watching as his fingers slowly uncoiled, back and away from the item sitting in the centre of his palm.

Thunder roared a second time. Louder. And as Sawyer's fingers peeled away, in what seemed slow motion, an eternity, she counted again. One, one thousand. Two, one thousand. Three, one thousa-

Dazzling light split the sky in warning. Three miles away now. Coming closer. Making the uneasiness grow in her gut and squirm it's way up to her diaphragm.

Ana's brows knit together in confusion and she blinked several times to try and clear her gaze, trying to make the image before her make more sense to her confused brain.

"Sawyer-" she started to speak, shooting him a wary stare and releasing his wrist to pull away from him slightly, but like the other times before he interrupted her. Harsh blue eyes suddenly chilling, making her shiver almost as much as his words did.

"Watch it. Watch it move." he spoke, voice so low that it made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle and stand on end.

It's golden needle, glinting in the faint moonlight as it spun first north, then east, then south west and north again. It wasn't spinning like a compass disrupted by a magnet should. It was jerking, like the hand of a clock gone awry.

North, west, east, north east, west, south east, north.

On and on it went, ticking faster and faster and yet in motions more and mort stilted and disjointed.

The unease had risen icily into her chest, clutching like a skeletal hand about her heart and constricting it, making the beat erratic. She fought hard against the urge to step back from Sawyer and turn tail and run, but her feet remained in that one spot, glued there whether by fear or some force unknown. She didn't even knew why she felt so terribly anxious. It was only a compass. A broken one at that…wasn't it?

"Watch it, Ana-Lucia. Watch out for it. For them. All directions. Every direction. Gotta watch out for them, Ana-Lucia." his voice no longer held it's familiar southern twang. He never called her by her full name. Never. It was always some stupid pet-name or dubious term of affection. She frowned up at him. Sawyer never called her 'Ana-Lucia'. This wasn't like Sawyer at all…And then it hit her, like a sledge hammer to her chest making her release her breath in a ragged exhalation.

It wasn't Sawyer! It wasn't him!

-oOo-
Michael spun around to see them as they all came to a halt, face stricken, as if he had seen a whole host of ghosts, let alone one measly poltergeist. He stood upon the other edge of the clearing, the break in the seemingly never ending sea of trees. His gun, taken from Jack's carefully guarded case, and filled with ammunition from the hatch supplies, clasped deathly tight in his fists as he surveyed the jungle, making Sawyer think that it wasn't so far fetched that he had actually seen a ghost or something.

Kate, however, was crouched on the ground, though, after a closer inspection on his part, not injured as he had first expected. Relief swept over him like a breeze on a hot day then. She wasn't hurt. She clasped something to her in a comforting embrace. A shaking, rocking, sobbing form that, every so often, tried to fend her away half heartedly. A person! He realised with some shock. Who in the hell was out in the middle of the damn jungle of fun and games?

"Cindy!" Eko's deep, disbelieving voice boomed out over the distance and the huddled woman's crying. Her head, short blonde hair matted with mud and other, unidentifiable things, face streaked with dirt and tears alike as she glanced up at him sharply, in fear. She had no shoes on. Legs coated entirely with the thick, slippery jungle floor and scrapes that oozed her own blood, thorns still digging mercilessly into some of the deeper cuts.

"I don't know who you are." she sobbed, at first quietly, shaking her head almost in apology. As if it was her fault. "I don't know where I am. I was on a plane. A stewardess. I don't remember. I don't know any of you. I don't know! I don't know who you are!" she became progressively louder as she spoke until she was hysterical, scrabbling and clawing at Kate's protective arms and attempts to sooth her, to break free and bolt into the darkness once more.

Sayid murmured something in aghast Arabic.

Locke scrubbed at his forehead, frown pensive.

Sawyer could only gape.

Cindy was alive and like Claire she couldn't remember a damn thing.

-oOo-