Title: Tell me a Story

Rating: PG-13, just to be on the safe side for any mentions to Sana because you know they're too hot .

Pairing: Sana, ever so tiny mentions of Jate.

Summary: "A story, huh?" he murmured, feigning wariness and suppressing a smirk as he did. "Well, I can't very well tell you no story with you standin' there like a palm tree, now can I?"

Warnings: Not much, just soem references to Sana hotness .

Status of fic: WIP, there's going to be a couple of parts.

Author's Notes: My first Sana Baby fic! We never did decide upon a name for Sana Baby officially, so I'm using Luana, just til we get it decided properly then I'll change it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing Lost wise. Nor do I pretend to. Luana Ford-Cortez the Official Sana Baby of the Sanateers over at Lost Forum belongs to the Sanateers!

Tell me a Story (part 1)

"Papi…?" her voice was high and loud and edging ever so slightly towards becoming a whine. It sliced through his concentration and calmness, scaring it away out into the heat of the morning.

Sawyer lifted the edge of his book away from his face using his thumb as if he were tilting a Stetson in silent salute to her. He squinted, peering out of the darkness at her face, red and blotchy from tears. Her eyes were dark, almost black like her Momma's were, and her hair fell sleek and shadowy in silky curtains about an angelic face that seemed incapable of half the mischief that she usually found herself in. She had her Momma's skin too. Bronze and soft, making his own tan pale in comparison whenever he held her little hand in his.

"Whatsa matter, Pickle?" he growled out affectionately from beneath his book and he noticed the sheepish look on her perfect features. The way she scuffed one of her bare feet at the sand and wiggled her tiny toes. The way she automatically placed her thumb into her mouth and curled her forefinger across the bridge of her nose, exactly like her Momma's nose, just smaller.

She'd done something. He could tell, and she'd obviously done something bad for her to be stood there before him instead of going to Ana-Lucia like she usually did in search of rescue.

"What you gone done now?" he asked warily, sitting up suddenly, the book falling from it's perch atop his head to the sand forgotten. "You been fightin' again, Rocky?" he demanded and the blush of embarrassment that covered her entire face told him that was exactly what she'd been doing. That was the reason that she stood in front of him then, disturbing his rest instead of stressing out her mother.

"We talked about this, Princess!" he sighed, shaking his head as he spoke. "You know your Momma don't want you fightin' in case you-"

"I won't get hurt, Papi!" she interrupted swiftly in protest from around her thumb, still firmly in her mouth, second-guessing his words. "And I didn't even start the fight this time, it was that stupid Christian!"

Sawyer had to swallow his protective paternal instincts then that would have seen him going and beating that damn Christian Shephard's ass, never mind that the boy was only five, the same age as the little slip of a girl before him was. Instead he cleared his throat.

"I was going to say, 'fore you went and interrupted, Blabbermouth," he stated in a deep throated growl that pretended annoyance. "That your Momma and me don't want you fightin' in case you hurt someone!" he finished and she rolled her eyes, arms folding across her chest in a gesture so like Ana's that it gave him the shivers. "That why you've been cryin'?" he continued, a little softer, raising his eyebrows knowingly as he spoke. "'Cause you beat up on Jack-the-Lad and Freckles told you off again?"

Her features abandoned her scowl in favour of a trembling bottom lip and teary eyes. She nodded her dark haired head solemnly, breathing suddenly dangerously close to becoming sobs until Sawyer reached forwards and drew her into a tight embrace, tucking her face into the crook of her neck and cupping a hand over the crown of her head.

"Easy now, Pumpkin." He soothed, trying to calm her down and in the same instant attempting to scan the beach for any signs of the mother of his crying daughter so he could hand her over to the more capable parent out of the two of them. "What did that mean old Aunty Kate say to you this time, huh?" he growled, more with frustration at Ana-Lucia's lack of presence than anything else, but the little girl's reply was muffled as she cried it into his shirt. No doubt wiping her tears and snot there, he thought with a grimace. "Where's your damn Momma?"

She sniffed, removing her face from where she had it pressed to look up at him with a sorrowful glance.

"She's at the hatch." She murmured, pitifully. "She's gotta push the button. It's her turn."

How he had been unaware of this fact, Sawyer wasn't entirely sure. Whenever the question of hatch duty came up, they leaped at the chance, going to almost any lengths to swap shifts around with the other survivors to make sure they got their turns together and that they finally got some quality "Momma and Daddy" time (which the previous of such moments had led to them almost getting caught in a rather compromising position on the kitchen table), leaving their daughter in the capable hands of one of their neighbours. Sometimes Libby and Hurley offered to take her, sometimes Sun and Jin so that she could play with their own daughter who was a couple of months or so older than Luana Ford-Cortez was. But they always found someone and they always knew in advance when their shifts were liable to take place.

Except for this time apparently.

"No kiddin'…" he grumbled to himself, swiping tears and hair from where they were clinging to her usually dimpled cheeks. "She tell you when she'd be back?"

Luana shook her head in silent response and sniffed again. "Dunno." She mimicked his gruff southern tone. And then she paused, twiddling her fingers together and glancing down at them as she did so, as if she were slightly nervous of whatever it was she was about to say next. "Papi?" she asked, drawing the epithet out as she had at the very beginning of their conversation. "Tell me a story…just 'til she comes home." She added the final comment hastily, as if that would make him more inclined to comply.

He watched her through narrowed blue eyes, considering her as she stood before him, fidgeting. That was something else to add to the list of things she had inherited from Ana-Lucia. The ability to make a demand, spoken softly or with a sting, that he would feel compelled to comply with when always before he had only ever been concerned with pleasing himself.

"A story, huh?" he murmured, feigning wariness and suppressing a smirk as he did. "Well, I can't very well tell you no story with you standin' there like a palm tree, now can I?"

Luana grinned widely in triumph, tears forgotten entirely as she threw herself at him so that he barely had time to catch her.

"Easy, Tiger!" he growled settling her more calmly onto his lap. She may have been only five years old, but little Luana had the fists of a fighter, the fists of her mother actually, and he'd been on the receiving end of punches from both the women in his life too many times to retain count. "Want me to read you the bunny book again?"

She shook her head, peering up at him through ebony lashes.

"Momma said you can't tell me that story any more, 'cause it gived me nightmares." She responded, almost reprimanding him, and Sawyer rolled his eyes.

"Fine, what story?" he sighed and she fixed him with a scathing glare that left him feeling thoroughly inadequate, as she tossed her dark hair, wiping it back from where the soft strands obscured her view briefly with tiny, splayed fingers.

"A good one, Daddy." She responded as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire world and perhaps it was. All kids loved a good story. It was a scientific fact.

"A good one…" her repeated, muttering it beneath his breath, raising his eyes at the canopy of palm leaves above them, currently shading them from the harsh sun's glare. "'Course you want a good one. Stupid me."

-oOo-