Chapter 11

Kate and Claire did fortunately return, and, although they refrained from announcing the details of their journey, rumor again ripped through the camp. Soon enough, Ana and Sayid learned that the women had discovered something momentous. The details, however, remained clouded. Since Jack had recently seen Claire in order to check on the baby, Ana took it upon herself to ask the doctor what he knew about the women's expedition.

While Ana addressed Jack, Sayid stood silently behind her. His arms were crossed easily over his chest, but his posture was less natural. He was too aware of Jack's cautious gaze. The doctor appeared to be uncomfortable with Sayid's presence, and he looked only at Ana when he spoke. "Not everyone needs to know everything," Jack told her in that voice that was an incongruous medley of hesitancy and authority.

The flirtatious smile with which Ana had greeted the doctor now faded into a defensive, firm line. "Maybe everybody does," she said. Ana-Lucia did understand the occasional value of secrecy, and she had not told the tailenders all the details of her own actions. A leader, she believed, must sometimes shoulder certain silent burdens for the sake of those she sought to protect. Now, however, she continued coldly, "Maybe it's time we all stopped keeping secrets from each other."

Realizing the negative effect her sternness was having on Jack, Ana attempted to soften her tone. "You know, maybe we oughta piece together the puzzle." And she meant what she said. Her desire to talk things out was inspired by more than her present awkward feelings of ignorance and powerlessness. Yes, she wanted to possess all the information and to gain some measure of control, but even more than that she wanted to accomplish a series of goals: rescue the children, ensure the castaways' survival, and…she barely dared to hope this far…find a way off the island.

Secrecy did not further those goals. It was true that revelation would probably result in an internal opposition among the survivors because it would force decision making. But weren't those tensions brewing anyway? And without adequate information, they could ultimately achieve nothing.

After the crash, Ana had done what she felt she had needed to do. She had not sought a consensus, and she had rarely solicited opinions. But things were different now. She wasn't the only one willing to lead now. And who was the leader here, really? Jack? Sayid? Locke? Kate? Sawyer? They were all vying for power, lords in their own separate spheres, all probably holding back some bit of information, some evidence that, combined, might create a decipherable case.

What if the police force had acted like that? Ana wondered. No murderer would ever be apprehended. But here, it seemed everyone was a private investigator, a self-selected juror, or a secret executioner. She had tried to be all those things before: the first time was when she had shot the man responsible for her child's death. It hadn't worked. It hadn't brought her peace. She wasn't exactly penitent for her choice—the man had deserved it, after all—but she admitted now that the action had been futile.

Before she had lost her child, Ana had been able to cooperate with her fellow officers; she had known, also, how to be a loyal partner. But after that incident, when no one had truly understood her rage, she had isolated herself from those on the force and she had sought her own revenge. She had maintained this attitude of distance and autonomy after the crash.

Yet Ana's sovereignty hadn't washed away the past or improved the present—not at home and not here. It was time to acknowledge her need for others. That was why she had not tried to keep Sayid from following her when she went to speak with Jack. It was why she had already, whether she stated the truth openly or not, surrendered her unformed army to the ex-soldier.

The secrecy and the misguided paternalism weren't working. Nothing was being accomplished. They were all running in circles, backtracking in the jungle, making and unmaking their own hurried plans. Maybe there was a better way. "We all need more details," she insisted.

"People are better off not knowing everything, Ana. You know that. These people can't handle all this." Jack brushed his hand dismissively through the air as he spoke, and as attractive a man as he was, Ana felt deeply annoyed by his tone and his gesture. His cockiness was more subtle than her own, and his assertion of authority was much quieter, but the traits were there—and what she did not condemn in herself she had begun to dislike in him.

She stiffened her casual posture and could not prevent the derision from surfacing in her voice as she said, "Have to protect the ignorant masses, huh, Jack?"

"Ana, you know I don't mean—"

She interrupted him forcefully: "It's time to figure out what the hell is going on."

Jack shook his head in exaggerated disbelief. "And do what, Ana? And do what?"

"You're the one who came to me suggesting that we raise an army," she said. "Remember?"

"Well maybe I was wrong about that. If these people go off half-cocked in the jungle after God knows what is out there, we're all just going to bring more trouble on ourselves. We've been surviving," he insisted. "Let's go on surviving."

Sayid was surprised to find the doctor glancing over at him and even more surprised to hear him ask, "What do you think, Sayid?" There was something about the question that gratified him. The Iraqi had once sought to avoid any official role of leadership. Jack had long ago come to him for help—well, it seemed long here on the island, but it was in reality only weeks before. Sayid had half-dismissed the man then, telling him that if something needed to be done, he ought to do it himself. But in the end he had not waved aside duty, and he had led when he thought it fit; he had done so with more confidence than Jack but also with a less jealous guardianship of his role.

Now, however, Sayid felt within himself the need to guide, the overwhelming sense that if he was not a part of things, something would go terribly awry. Since Shannon's death, it seemed as if no one had turned to him for advice or kept him informed of passing events. They had avoided him like a fragile thing.

Sayid had taken the lead in extinguishing the fire, but he had done so, he thought, against expectations. They had not asked him to join in the hunt for Michael; they had not turned to him when they began to toy with the idea of an army; the women had not even asked him to lead them to Rousseau, whom he knew better than anyone. It was good to be asked his opinion again, even if Jack had only done so reflexively as he sought to defend his own position against Ana's.

"I believe Ana is correct," Sayid answered even though he knew his response would disappoint the doctor. "I think it is time to summon the survivors together and share with each other everything we know. Such an exchange of information will enable us to better understand our enemy."

Jack bobbed his head up and down, not in agreement, but in frustration. "Our enemy? Are we really at war now, Sayid?"

"You yourself have said it."

Jack gritted his teeth together. His hand went to his hips, and he looked away from Sayid when he spoke. "You want these people running off madly into the jungle after the Others?"

Sayid raised his eyes ever so slightly. "No. I believe that was your plan originally. I, however, want to train them to be prepared for any eventuality. I want to know what we are facing, and I want these survivors to be equipped to face it. We cannot possibly know what we are dealing with if we continue to keep secrets."

"Is that so?" Jack turned toward Sayid now and took several steps closer until the men were nearly face to face. The doctor's expression was as close to a snarl as he could muster, but he didn't really have the spirit to be intimidating. "Weren't you the one who wanted to keep Rousseau's transmission a secret? Weren't you the one who said these people"—he jabbed a finger towards the beach— "couldn't afford to lose hope?"

"That was before matters grew worse. That was before Walt was taken and before we knew about the other children. We need not involve everyone yet. But those of us who have intelligence should gather and organize it into an overall picture."

Jack raised his eyebrows and looked away. His head moved ever so slightly in that weary shake that was so common with him, and Sayid knew exactly what it meant—the doctor was going to consent, but he was going to do so resentfully.

"Fine," Jack said. "Fine. I'll round up anyone who might know anything tonight. We'll hammer things out. We'll decide—together—what to do." When he said "together," he looked pointedly at Sayid as though to warn the Iraqi against any attempt at usurping power. "Who do you want involved?"

"Kate and Claire because of what they learned today. Sawyer and Jin because of what they saw on the raft. Sun to translate for Jin. Ana, Eko, and Libby to brief everyone on what they learned and experienced while on the other side of the island. Hurley because he was alone with Rousseau and because…I sense there is something he knows about the hatch. Charlie because he was with us when we first heard the transmission and because he was alone with Ethan. You and Locke of course."

The trio spoke for awhile longer. They discussed the resentment such a council might cause among the other survivors, and they decided to attempt to meet casually around an evening fire and to deny no one else who wanted to join them. Jack raised the issue of who would watch Gale in the meantime. Since the secret would be out soon enough, Sayid suggested that they let Bernard and Rose man the hatch and that the pair be warned of Gale's presence and told not to open the door.

When they parted ways, none of them felt particularly optimistic, but Sayid could at least sense the relief flowing slowly through his frame: something was, at last, being done.