Road Trip

Ana Lucia and Sawyer took their Ocean Airlines settlement and embarked on a road trip across the U.S.. Not able to live with or without each other, will they fall in love or kill each other first? (A series of post-island vignettes not necessarily in chronological order. More parts to come) .


Part I: “True Confessions”

Week 6

In a slow, labored shuffle, Sawyer made his way up the concrete staircase of Desert Rose Motel, bracing himself against the metal railing. He wasn't drunk, but the exhaustion he felt in every fiber of his bones was enough to render him intoxicated nonetheless.

The air was dry, the Nevada sky clear, velvet black and illuminated by a million stars that one could see for miles and miles. Ana Lucia had dragged him out into the middle of a desert and practically left him high and dry. He was months away from the island horror, days away from an unplanned visit to a jail cell. And he was looking for her.

Moving across the balcony, he scanned the gold applique numbers on the motel room doors, not sure which one to try first, if any. He peaked through windows trying to see beyond closed drapes for any sign of her, feeling perverted all the while, getting strange looks from those passing by him.

“Just forgot my room number 's all,” he sternly informed a woman in sponge rollers who was wide-eyed with one finger on her cell phone..

“41, 42,” he mumbled. “42F, Hot Damn,” he exclaimed!

He lifted the do not disturb tag and shook his head. Still he hesitated and second guessed, raising his fist, holding it in mid air for a moment. Exhaling wearily, he tapped his knuckles against the door.

“Luce! You in there?”

After getting no answer he gave up politeness and knocked louder. If he had gotten the wrong room, someone would have answered. She was definitely in there. He was convinced of it. The Muchacha was ticked-off at him -- same ole story. Maybe she had a reason to be this time, but locking him out of the room was taking things to a whole other level of being pissed off.

“Come on Lucy, I know you're in there. The car's in the parking lot.” He balled his fist and began pounding relentlessly, each hit sounding like a discharged cannon. “Open up! I ain't going away so you might as well open up the goddamned door and hear me out. ”

He leaned his head against the door for a second, feeling disoriented and fed-up. He thought he heard the chain lock dislodge, he knew he heard a deadbolt twist, but it was too late to react. The door flew open and he fell forward from his own momentum, his tired, sore muscles not allowing him to control himself. So in stumbling on the shag carpet over his own feet, he rammed into Ana Lucia, nearly knocking her down.

“Get off me,” she commanded, pushing him back with surprising force. “What are you crazy? You're waking up the whole motel,” she scolded in a loud, strained whisper while closing the door.

All that yapping was bound to wake up the whole darn state, he thought, focusing in on her standing with her hand on her hip. She wore a stark white terrycloth robe that accentuated her copper tone skin. Her supple lips were pursed up, head tilted, dark eyes glaring -- the usual scowl. Nowadays, her pouting and working herself up into a tantrum was familiar territory, so much so it had little effect on him. She had done it just about every other day on their road trip across country. Hadn't even gotten pass Texas and he already had her pegged, knew how to wrangle her in. All he needed to do was give it five minutes to blow over -- just five minutes until she became the usual putty in his hands.

He deepened his voice to a sultry drawl, flashing a grin. “Ain't you a site for sore eyes. You miss me sugar?”

After securing the chain-lock and deadbolt, she huffed and glowered at him for a split second before spinning on her heals and stomping towards the bed.

“It's friggin 1 a.m., Sawyer,” she fired back, whipping back the tightly tucked bedspread, blanket and sheets, layer by layer.

“Yea, time kind of escapes ya when you're locked up. And since when do you care about the time anyways? 'We have all the time in the world Cowboy',” he mocked her. “Ain't that what you said?”

Sawyer stood watching her as she stripped her robe off, revealing a fully nude body. His eyes followed down her spine sliding over the curve of her rear with ease. He loved the way her raven wavy locks swung between her shoulder blades. Yes indeed, she was a sight for sore eyes. Never before had he put up with so much drama for a piece of ass, but this was no ordinary piece of ass. He had to admit it.

She tossed the robe aside and slid into bed, tucking her body in-between the sheets, and twisting to turn off the bedside lamp. Apparently she was just going to go back to sleep and ignore him. Not that he wanted to get bombarded with a bunch of questions anyway.

“Hope you're nice and snug and comfy over there,” he bellowed while opening the mini refrigerator, disappointed to find it empty.

“I am, thank you. Now shut up.”

In fact the whole room was beyond cheap and trashy. Between the two of them, they were worth millions, part of the Oceanic Airlines settlement. Why she chose this motel, he hadn't a clue. “Ain't even got room service? Why did the hell did you choose this dump Lucy? You hate me that much?”

“Not everything has to do with you,” she growled back. “Who's the sherlock who went and got himself arrested in this godforsaken town? You. So you ask yourself why.”

All he wanted was a hey, a hug, not this sh-t. He didn't need this sh-t. As he sauntered over to the bed to get himself a more proper greeting, he heard her cuss and call him a bastard under her breath. Only made him laugh. Only made him more determined to have her. She was as scrappy as the next person, so who was she to judge him? He placed one knee on the edge of the bed, pressing his weight so she'd notice, and began unbuttoning his soiled shirt, hovering over her as if he was doing a striptease.

“Ut uh, you sleep on the floor or in that chair over there. Don't even think about it.”

“Ahh come on Luce. None of that was my fault.”

“Doesn't matter.” she mumbled in the pillow while twisting herself around so her back was facing him. “You get in this bed, you'll regret it man. I am not kidding.”

“I ain't sleeping on the damn floor.”

“Get another room then.”

Annoyed, but not completely defeated, Sawyer sucked his teeth, threw up his arms, and decided to let it go for now and head for a shower. He stunk bad after spending the past 48 hours in the local lock-up -- smelled of blood, sweat and beer -- the consequences of a bar fight that got way out of hand. He was no stranger to that. Ana probably knew that too.

He turned the water on as hot as he could stand it, letting the steam fill the room. With his palm he swiped the foggy mirror, revealing a haggard mug that was cut and bruised. It made him flinch, and curse his own stupidity. He was too old for fighting -- in bars, with Ana -- tired of it all.

He exited the bathroom, a ball of steam following him. Wearing only a towel around his waist, he shook his wet hair and walked lightly across the room. His eyes scanned the floor, the chair, the bed. The bed looked the most inviting. He sighed, knowing that he might have to eat an ample slice of humble pie to enjoy the bed, not to mention get some Ana- lovin' that he sorely ached for in the process.

He approached the bed tentatively, expecting her to raise up and bark at him, maybe spin her head around projecting vomit like a possessed demon child. Instead she was angelic, the way she always looked when she was sleeping -- always peaceful, no snoring, no loud breathing, curled up in a ball like a sweet 'lil muchacha without a care in the world. Quiet and soft, heavenly. It was sweet irony seeing her all vulnerable. It grabbed his heart as much as her fire-breathing ways worked on every ragged nerve. She was a drug that he couldn't put down no matter how hard he tried -- and it wasn't like he was trying all that hard anyway.

Slowly, gingerly, he knelt on the bed, straddling her. He locked around her hips as she twisted around and rubbed her hands over her face.

Groggy, she didn't scowl or frown. She just released a resigned sigh. “What did I say Sawyer?”

“I don't know Muchacha, what did you say?”

“Stay out of this bed or I'll kick your ass?”

“You never tole me you'd kick my ass now. Might be fun to let you try.” At that declaration she wiggled between his legs and he gripped her hips tighter. She felt good between his thighs, taut and supple, and he started to rise at the notion of having all of her.

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest, barring him from touching her. “So you were listening.”

'So you where listening,' Sawyer mocked her Latina accent in his head. “Wanna know how I got out of jail? Ain't you wonderin'?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, well I'm out on bail baby, but not only that, the charges were dropped. Got an inkling who my benefactor is?”

“Nope.”

“Not one guess? Betcha she's cute, kinda mean and came into a shitload of money -- 'bout your height too. . .”

“Not in the mood Sawyer. Go away.”

“ Not 'til I . . . until I tell you what you been wantin to know -- what you been nipping at me about all 'cross state. How 'bout you listen.”

She raised up on her elbows, blinked hard as her eyes adjusted to the light. “Go ahead -- spill it.”

Sawyer paused and rubbed his stubbled chin. He wished he had shaved, wasted more time to avoid this conversation, but now he had her undivided attention whether he wanted it or not.

“Okay here it is dang it. What happened to me happened long time ago. I don't talk about it to nobody. Ain't never told the whole story to a soul. Don't really want to tell you. But if you need to know -- if that will make you less ornery 'specially -- I'll tell ya.”

Ana released a long breath and spoke through gritted teeth. “Is it going to be worth all this build up, because I am tired. I swear to God it better be worth it Sawyer, or I'll. . . ”

“My Daddy shot my Mama,” he blurted out to dead silence. “Then he he blew his own brains out. Guess where I was at the time. Under the damn bed, hidin' like the little sh-t coward I was, watching the whole thing. Imagine having your Daddy's brains all over your teddy bear. Imagine that. You want to talk about gunfire going off in your head at night, wanna talk about what it's like to have everything stole from you. I ain't never been shot in the chest, ain't never loss a kid, but I know a thing or two about it.”

Ana's mouth hung open, and her expression slowly softened.

“So was it worth it to ya, Muchacha?” he asked bitterly. “I surely hope so.”

She lifted her body to meet him, but he flopped down on his back, pulling away from her. She rolled over on top of him anyway and cradled his face in her palms, holding him there for a moment as he avoided eye contact. “Thanks,” she said softly. “Look at me,” she said rolling his head so he couldn't help but look her straight in the eye. “Thank you,” she repeated with emphasis.

Sawyer wanted to draw back from her, wanted to run and forget this whole thing. He didn't need pity, especially not from Ana. He could deal with her bad attitude, but never her pity. “Why for?”

“You think I told you about my past for kicks? I did it so maybe you could understand me. And you just did the same. That's all I've been asking for. And you don't have to say anything else if you don't want to. I'm sorry that happened to you, Sawyer.” She stared at him earnestly while rubbing his jaw.

Rambina being sweet, it was almost too much for him to handle. She must have felt him tense, and get ready to high-tail it, which was probably what made her add her last caveat.

“And no I don't feel sorry for you, so don't go on about not wanting my pity, because you're not going to get it anyway. I just feel you, got it?”

Sawyer nodded slowly, almost tickled that she read his mind, or thought she did. He'd never let on. It dawned on him that in some strange way that maybe they fit. The universe’s cruel joke. She was his punishment and pleasure. Two miserable damaged souls facing the world together.

“Clear as a bell baby.” He studied her for a second before coming back into himself. “You can feel me all night,” he growled. “How 'bout we feel each other.”

She broke into a wry smile, and leaned in, pecking his lips, lightly and tenderly. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, drawing her in deeper, falling into the cushion of her lips while gliding his palms across every part of her. He could never get over the soft, smoothness of her skin. She moaned at the back of her throat and met his open mouth with more aggression, placing her hands on his ass and unworking his towel with great skills. Putty in his hands.

“Ahh girl you feel so damn good,” he rasped against her neck while suckling it. “Tell me you missed me. Say it.” He teased at the warm spot between her thighs, relentlessly, making her squirm.

He thought he had her until she jerked away. ”Hey, this doesn't mean you're off the hook for starting that bar brawl.”

“Ah damn woman. What? I didn't start nuthin'. I was busy defending your honor.”

She poked his chest, hard.

“Ow!”

“Skip the bullshit Cowboy. You were busy eyeballing that guy's girlfriend.”

“See that's where all of y'all is dead wrong. I only gots eyes for you .”

“Whatever. Just keep your eyes where they belong then.”

“Ain't got a problem with that.” He smiled and resumed working at the tender spot on her neck until she totally melted.

His eyes belonged on her. He belonged to her, whether he liked it or not. At that moment, he liked it just fine.

lmao awww so cute! I love this story, the road trip's such a good idea :P hope ya update soon! :D

totally brillant i love it i cant wait for more more more

hee hee. This was mint. I love it.

Great fic, Aimz. Love the whole road trip idea ;). Update soon!



^^NIKKI2513, love the sig :)

As perfect as it could be. Can't wait for more.

L.

Aimz, I read this yesterday but forgot to comment. Loved it! Such a GREAT idea! Ana and Sawyer on a road trip? What the hell could be better than that? Lol. I love it woman, can't wait to read more! I love the way you write them. :D

Aws0me Aimz!!! :lol:

Thanks for the feed everyone. :lol:

love the story aimz :P
Update sooooooooooooooooooooooooon!

loving this aimz!! :)

Damn I have been staying away from the Lost fic...till now. This is good and entertaining. Sawyer and Ana are very much in character and everything else was amazing. Great job Aimz!

Part II: ". . . And On We Go"

Week 1

Ana Lucia rolls out from under Sawyer's heavy arm, her moistened flesh peels away from his like skin from warm vinyl. She hears him grunt, and pauses for a second, figuring that he's going to watch her saunter across the hotel room with one groggy eye open. He likes the way she saunters, he once told her, called her gait “swishy and hellbent”. Back on the island -- one of his drunken claims -- he enjoyed watching her leave because he always knew she was coming back anyways, guaranteed. And she always did.

“I gotta take a piss.” She announces it with the commanding nonchalance of a jaded bus driver, and earns from him a cracked snicker. She has his attention, and scratches her ass in long stokes for extra effect as she lumbers towards the bathroom like a drunken sailor.

Girl you got a pretty mouth, she figures he's thinking this at the moment, and would drawl-it out Southern style if he could -- if he were in a state to be forming sentences. It makes her smile.

She leaves the door open so he can hear her slam the seat down, tinkle and flush. This kind of thing, not acting lady-like when she was supposed too, was never for the squeamish. The squeamish would always run. She found out long ago that Sawyer was not running anyways, guaranteed. Maybe he never would.

When she crawls back into bed, Sawyer is flat on his back, his eyes are lazy slits, struggling to focus. She forgot to turn off the bathroom light, and there is a stream of it cutting across his face, making his irises glisten, reflecting flecks of silver in his beard, and deepening the pools of his ever-present dimples. She snuggles in under the crisp hotel linens and cradles back against his chest. He wraps his arm around her tightly, and she doesn't care that he smells of sweat and stale aftershave and needs a shower, and is making her hot. Because, it's what she had grown accustomed to in another world, and it's as familiar as anything. He presses his lips against her, murmuring something incoherent. “Uh huh,” she responds, not really knowing what she's agreeing to, not caring. She closes her eyes and drifts off.

The next morning, the vent is blowing the heavy drapes, slivers of the Southern California sunrise peek in. Sawyer is snoring in a low drone, and she's working him awake with her hand. He responds with a favorable moan, manages to tell her it feels good. If she can keep him like this, in a drugged-up state of happy obedience, maybe she stands a chance of tolerating being with him everyday on this crazy road trip that has no apparent end.

“Baby, you don't want me ta 'plode yet. You best slow down.”

As he forces her hand away and attempts to flip her over, the maid is knocking at the door.

“Housekeeping.”

He yells go away. . . please. She says give us 30 minutes. He yells make it an hour.

“An hour huh?” She smirks while straddling him, slowly slipping him inside.

He jerks his hips up and in. “Mmm, at least.”

+++

“Ain't you got the itin'ry all mapped out?”

Sawyer's profiling in the bathroom mirror, doing what she figures is counting the gray hairs in his stubble. Yesterday she made the grave mistake of informing him that he had more grays than ever. Grave mistake. Out of everything that had tried to kill him on the island, she wonders how the lack of mirrors of which to indulge his vanity didn't manage to.

It takes her a second to figure out what I-tin'ry means. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Woman.”

She's annoyed, but realizes maybe that's what he expects out of her -- regimen. Hell it's what she's always expected out of herself. But they were just supposed to drive, head east, not care where they ended up -- merrily on their way. That lack of a plan was the plan, and she needed it that way.

Whipping back the shower curtain and turning on the water, she reminds him what's she's been telling herself, and happily so. “We have all the time in the world Cowboy.”

She closes her eyes and savors the soft shower of warm water streaming over her, feeling free and unburdened. Life is but a dream.

++++

A few months ago, after the remaining survivors had given their final depositions in the class action law suit against Oceanic Airlines, they all exchanged phone numbers and promised to keep in touch. It would be a vain pact on her part, she knew, as another reunion of the damaged and fecked-up former castaways could have waited awhile if she had her way. Yet she had looked for him, they all looked for him, but “a Mr. James Ford” didn't seem to show. Typical Sawyer. But then she spotted him in the parking lot, leaned up against her mustang, with those dimples, and scraggly mane and that stupid cocky grin.

“You finished deposin'?” he asked.

She remembers not wanting to give him any emotion, not wanting to admit to herself that her heart was warm and beating rapidly at the sight of him, and that she wanted to rush over and jump up in his arms. She answered simply, “Yup.”

“We all stinkin'' rich then?”

“Looks like it.”

With bold assumption his last words were, “Well f-ck then Muchacha, why we wastin' time. Let's hit the road.”

And that was what they did, what they are doing now, going on merrily. She didn't pack or leave a forwarding address. She called her Mom, told her she loved her and hit the road indeed. There was never any plan, any I-tin'ry.

++++

His sudden appearance in the shower jerks her out of her stupor and she slips a bit on slick tub.

“I don't recall inviting you in here.” She frowns and he jockeys her out of the stream, shaking his hair back.

“And yet you ain't kicking me out neither,” he says while splaying his palms against her hips and jerking her close. She leans back and looks at him, waiting for his next move, biting her lip as he becomes aroused against her lower abdomen. He cradles her face in his palms, rubbing his thumbs against her flesh. “Sweetcheeks,” he says lazily, barely audible against the dull roar of the shower, before sucking her lower lip, slipping his tongue in deep, kissing her hungrily.

He will never say Ana Lucia. She'll never say James Ford either. She doesn't know that man. He breaks from the kiss and pecks at her neck, cheeks, eyes lips. Water trickles in and over his blue eyes, yet he never breaks his trained gaze on her. He sees only her. She tries to avoid eye contact because the growing warmth in the pit of her stomach, the swirling intensity of it, makes her feel uneasy, because she doesn't really know this man either.

“So we gonna to do this then?.”

“You wanna bail? Here's you chance.” She waits, soapy water tickles at her feet.

He lowers his brows and jerks his head back, looking at her curiously, like he's surprised she's giving him an out, offended perhaps. “Ut uh baby. No way.”

She can't help but smirk. Her voice shakes from joy, from fear. ”Good then. So let's cut the planning bullshit and just do this.”

“Yes mayum,” he says into her neck.

She melts into him, wondering what she's gotten herself into, how in the world she's going to put up with him everyday for god knows how long.

As he lifts her up around his waist and her back hits the slick tile, the thought fades, replaced by moans and shallow breathing and pure bliss.

She'll worry about it later.

wholly hotness! that was fantastic aimz!

you've got their character's nailed perfectly! can't wait to see where they end up next.

:o :blink: Ummmmm......HOT?!!

More please? And soon please? :pray:

Holy hotness!! :o more please!!!!

Wow i missed an update. No no, I missed a HOT update :o

How silly of me lol :lol:

great update :) more please :)

damn i missed the update too it WAS really hot i loved it

I love where this is going. Sawyer/Ana adventures....man that's a great concept. You are keeping in character despite it's post-rescueness which is usually tricky for most writers. Bravo. Of course it's hot as hell but that's just a bonus. :D

L.

WOW! This is sooooo terrific. WOW! I am speechless which is a rare thing! Your Sana writing, Aimz, is absolutely amazing and HOT.

Oh dear Sana gods!


More!!

This is fantastic. No other words to describe it.


okay, one. Sexy!

^^ yup *nods furiously* :P :wub: sananess

Sana just writes itself :rolleyes:

Part III: "Hard Knocks"

Week 3

Ana Lucia rarely feels the need to explain to people why she is the way she is.

She sits in her convertible, gnawing on her thumb. Her temples throb and she grips the steering wheel tightly, growling through a clenched jaw before releasing a slow long breath in attempt to calm herself. Her eyes are fixated on the black asphalt and the heat that she can see rising from it. She relates. In her rearview mirror, she sees a pregnant woman in a pink sundress waddling along like a penguin in heat. Her heart hurts. She turns off the ignition and waits to see if he will come back.

The rage started the day before yesterday, Mother’s Day. She could feel it coming to a head, and did nothing to stop it. She didn’t want to stop it, and Sawyer didn’t exactly help matters either. They were headed north, when they were supposed to go south. They had decided to go south then east, away from the 100-degree sweltering heat. Sawyer got a balled up map thrown at him, along with some choice words, because he had failed to listen to her, again. Somewhere after the shouting became so ridiculous that they could barely hear each other, she had pulled the car over at a gas station and ordered him to get out. He did – slammed the door and stomped into the convenient store, cursing. She filled up the Mustang and now she waits.

“It ain’t gotta be your way or no way,” he announces, appearing out of nowhere with several bottles of water in hand.

Ana cranks her neck and looks up at him squinting against the sun. He’s hovering over her, dripping wet with sweat, looking like an angry bull.

My way or the highway, she thinks. She says forcefully, “I don’t like being lost. And for no damn reason.”

“Well it’s a hard knock life Annie. Lots of things ain’t to our liking.”

Ana slits her eyes at him, holding back her words.

He opens her door. “Now slide you sweet ass on over. I’ll take the wheel.”

“If you think I am letting you . . .” She stops herself, then moves to the passenger side with a heavy sigh. She’s tired of arguing. It’s like beating her head against a brick wall with him and she’s fed up.

“Why don’t you navigate? You tell me where to go, where to turn, what exit to take…”

She looks at him suspiciously as he starts up the car.

“Hell even when to take a piss. Cuz, if we get lost again, it’s all on you Ponce.”

“We won’t get lost,” she responds with an assured smirk, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Keep poutin’ Muchacha, you know I love it,” he teases with a sultry growl. She rolls her eyes and pulls away as he attempts to grab her lower lip.

“And let’s get this top up and put on the dang air condition’in.”

He speeds off. She tells him to head south, and she’ll let him know when he’s allowed to take a piss. He thanks her.

--

The sunset glows rusty streams of orange hues. Ana sits on the edge of a rock at a scenic overlook, gazing out into the horizon, mindlessly raking a stick around in the dirt. She shrinks as something cold hits her neck, then relaxes at the cooling sensation of it.

“The last brew from the cooler.” Sawyer hands it to her and lowers down to sit next to her, grunting from his stiffened muscles.

She pops the can open and presses it to her lips. “Wanna share it?”

Sawyer nods and waits for his turn at a swig. A welcome breeze hits, blowing her hair back. Sawyer smoothes his fingers through it then rubs his hand along her neck softly. There’s a family nearby at a picnic table. The kids are chasing each other and their screeching laughter amplifies in her brain.

Ana feels his eyes on her, feels him moving closer to her but she is unable to comprehend the close tenderness. He comments on the beauty of the sunset, it’s different than it was on the island, less ominous, less like death. He says that since they had been driving all day, that they should find a motel nearby and call it a night. He could use a nice long shower. His demeanor is cool and calm as if he hasn’t a care in the world, nothing to suggest that they were at each other’s throats hours before. She keeps her gaze honed straight ahead.

“So why don’t you spill what’s got you so sad?”

She looks at him curiously, as his words hang in the air. He rubs her shoulder as if he is trying to coax it out of her. She stiffens and blocks any feelings, looks away because she’s afraid he can see the tears burning at her eyes. She didn’t know she could register sad, just angry or confident. She rarely lets anyone see her in any state that one could call sad.

“I’m just really tired,” she answers more solemnly than she wants to.

“I mean for the past three days. Don’t get me wrong, you light up like a match when you’re pissed off, spittin’ madwoman. Wouldn’t mind if you curbed that habit a-tall. Might keep me from killin’ ya.” He snickers and takes another swig. “You can be fun when you want ta, hella fun in bed . . “

“Do you have a point?”

He laughs at her irritation, and she softens her face realizing what he is attempting to do. She grins and shakes her head at him. He’s hopeless. He holds her chin up and says it’s nice to see her smile.


--

Ana wakes herself up on cue. She was dreaming something she didn’t want to dream, the repeated nightmare that involves gunshots and a wailing infant.

She reaches her arm out for Sawyer and he’s not next to her. A breeze blows the curtains at the terrace door and she sees him out there reared back in a patio chair.

“Can’t sleep?” she asks groggily while stepping out into the night air.

Sawyer jumps a bit and quickly puts out his cigarette as if he is trying to hide it from her. “What the hell Luce, how about puttin’ some clothes on. We ain’t the only ones in this hotel.” He looks around into darkness to see if anyone is peeping.

“We’re on the 20th floor, relax man.” She tiptoes quickly across the concrete surface, crawls into the patio chair, onto his lap and curls herself into a ball against him like a cat.

“Well … let me fetch a blanket, somethin’ girl.”

“Relax,” she says again, almost happily as she lays her head on his chest. “It’s what, 3 a.m.?
Nobody’s awake.”

He wraps his arms around her completely as if he is trying to shield her from on-lookers anyway. “Not that I don’t like ya naked,” he moans and kisses her forehead, smoothing his hands along her skin. She snuggles closer and shuts her eyes. Sawyer smells of clean soap, and cigarettes. His skin is cool and his heart beats against her ear.

“You miss your Mom? That’s what it is ain’t it?”

“That’s what what is?”

“Why you been all sad and salty for damn near three days.”

She sighs. “If I tried to figure you out, you wouldn’t like it.”

“This ain’t about me though. I’m as happy as a clam, baby.”

“Whatever. And why are you smoking?”

“Calms my nerves and don’t go changin’ the subject.”

“There is no subject.”

After her final answer, they sit for a while in silence, and she effortlessly drifts back to sleep.

She awakens in the same position to the early sunrise. Sawyer is standing above her draping a blanket over her.

“Mornin’ Lemon Pop. Hope you woke up on the right side of the bed ta’day.” He hands her a mug of hot coffee.

“We’ll see. Thanks.” She can’t stand him being this nice, but her usual survival tactics that involve avoidance and pushing away haven’t worked yet. They are equally hardheaded, tolerating each other out of spite perhaps.

“Remember I told you I was shot?” She looks at the ground, at the frayed jeans above his bare feet, gripping her coffee mug.

“Yea, on the job right?” He stops moving and sits on the edge of the end table across from her, waiting for more.

She doesn’t know why she said it, or why she feels the need to confess anything more. Maybe because what he said yesterday is true -- they have a lot of time to spend together and a lot of talking to do.

“Yea. Well… there’s more to that story.”

She tells it all without pause. She let the guy reach. She was stupid. All of it. Even how she hunted the guy down. He got shot and there was no evidence. Sawyer seems to understand without her spelling out all the incriminating details. He listens without question, nor comment, and seemingly no judgment. So she keeps on talking monotone, almost robotically.

“Sunday was Mother’s Day you know.”

“Damn, forgot to mail my card. You talked to the Madre though, right?”

“Yea. I miss my Mom, sure. But it all happened the day before. On Mother’s Day four years ago, I woke up in the hospital with a pain in my chest that I can’t describe, and they told me what I already felt and knew. That I killed it.” She rubs her hand across her chest, wincing.

“You killed it?”

“Yup.” She bites her lip hard as it quivers. “The last thing I said to the bastard was that I was pregnant.”

There is silence and she finally looks at Sawyer squarely to see his reaction. She can’t read it. Maybe he doesn’t care. Men can’t fully comprehend what it’s like to lose a child. She learned that the hard way.

He moves towards her, and gently removes the mug from her grip. She moves to leave the scene as he begins to sit in the chair, but he pulls her closer to him, cradles her as he did hours before.

“Hey you know what,” he finally says. “We know more than most folks that life’s a bitch. It hits you hard and barely lets up. But when it does, when you get that break from the pain and the bullshit, it’s a beautiful thing.”

She raises her head and looks at him curiously, letting his words sink in. He smiles at her, winks his eye and his dimples and cool manner warm her to the core. He’s a snake charmer and she resists him as best she can. Then she realizes that she feels things differently with Sawyer, anger and lust all at once with extreme intensity, and that is better that feeling dead.

She kisses him lightly on the lips. A sense of contentment washes over. This is her break, and it’s beautiful.

Love it. It's so rare when a fic has Ana revealing what happened to her but being able to stay in character while doing it. You didn't overkill it, you didn't. underwhelm it....you were like GoldieLocks and found that thing that was juuuuuust right. :D

L.

Awwwww... man thats really sad....yet some how very sweet...loved it!

oh my goodness...this is just perfect! :)

This is brilliant Sana fic. I love it so much. :)

wow, i looooooooove it! :D
probably best i've read so far!

I can't believe I never commented on this. This ithird part is AWESOME! I love this fic.

Beautifully written!!!

This story iz really awesome!
The characters really stay the same and itz great to read
plz update soon
i cant wait to read the next part

luv,
-->> ~{Jazz}~ <<--

i agree 1000 % aimzy!! really hope that you aren't giving up on this one!?

...and boomerang, too! :)

VS3 keeping your writing skills busy!?

ive read this before som e one start a new fic or sumthing yall need more kid fic's lol umm awsome story by the way!!!!! need more :)

aww i love this its great give me more pleaseeee

hecks yes i agree with bethuk!!

B) :lol: :lol: :lol:

OMG!!!you are AMIZING... :D

love it. youre a really great writer!