Lost/HP Crossover   Leave a comment

Michelle Rodriguez58 

Challenge Pairing: Harry/Ana Lucia


SHORT BEGINNING OF CHAPTER One. Perhaps you could call it a long summary or even a PROLOGUE.



From the moment he saw her, he couldn’t stop watching. Couldn’t stop himself from shadowing her, following her – and not with just his eyes. He blended into the shadows – they all knew he was there, all aware of his presence, but he never spoke to anyone. Just watched them all, listening but never talking. Watching her. Listening to her.

From the shadows, he watched her. As she took charge of the surviving tail section of the plane crash, himself included. He could have left at any time, just Apparated from here and never looked back. But, despite the growing feel of hostility and danger that surrounded this unknown and mysterious island that he and the others unfortunately found themselves on, he couldn’t bring himself to just leave. To just leave her.

There was something about her that drew him in, and it wasn’t the obvious attraction he felt when he watched her silently. Though, he knew that attraction was a small part of it. No, there was something else that pulled him in – something deeper and far stronger than his attraction to her. It was her soul, he realized. Like him, she was broken. Dead, they were both nearly dead, yet still they lived, barely living amongst them – the living. The two of them, they were kindred spirits, both damaged and struggling to live, yet at the same time begging to be set free of the pain. The ever consuming, burning, hot iron pain, that ate at their bleeding, fighting soul.

So maybe they weren’t dead. But it sure as hell felt like it sometimes…The times when, instead of pain, there was that numbness. It was the numbness that felt like death. Like they were already there, dead.

He knew what she was feeling, for he felt the same way. However, unlike her, he didn’t use his pain and numbness in the same manner as she did. Instead of self-asserting himself as group leader, he stayed in the shadows, watching.

She used her anger and her pain, to dictate and lead. He knew that, though her presence was one of strength and coldness, it would only serve to drive the rest of their group away or to turn on her. They were desperate to survive, while she was just barely hanging on. She was forceful and stubborn, too set into her mind to listen to anybody. It was starting to divide them and eventually, something would happen to set them off.

He understood that the rest of the group was cautious and uncertain when it came to her – she was, with her mindset as it was, incredibly unpredictable and dangerous. Yet, he understood her actions and wasn’t nearly as worried as everyone else. He knew that, through the anger and pain, that she was still a good person, still trying to do the right thing and to protect everyone. She wasn’t completely gone – not yet.

He wanted to save her. More than he had wanted to save anyone, he wanted to save her. That was saying something, given his history with the whole ‘saving people thing’. This alone shocked him. They’d only been on this island for a little over a month, and that time couldn’t even compare to the seven years he had spent with Ron and Hermione, his brother and sister. Yet, he felt more compelled to save her than he had them, his two best friends. He had witnessed their own bloody murders, up on that battlefield. Yes, he had desperately wanted to save them, but he couldn’t then. He’d wanted to run to Ron’s aid as he watched the red-head’s throat being torn open and Fenrir’s wolf form hunched over his body, grinning with blood dripping from his jaws. he’d wanted to jump in front of the dark curse, cast by Bellatrix herself. The curse that caught Hermione in the chest, splitting her form nearly clean in half. However, he had been in the middle of his own battle at the time. And, while he had felt his heart bleed for the brutal deaths of his brother and sister, he had not run to save them. His pain had turned to boiling rage and he had turned back to the cackling and gleeful Voldemort and he had slaughtered the bastard.

This time, he could save her. There was nothing in his way now, nothing preventing him from running to the rescue. Yes, it would be a rescue, for she was slowly suffocating and slowly loosing the struggle to truly survive. Whatever she had been through, it was eating at her, just as his past was eating at him.

Maybe, if he saved her, he too could also be saved. He wanted to be saved, to be able to breathe properly again, without the horrible pain and the mind blowing numbness…

He found his chance, a little over a month after the crash. They’d been on the move, to the camp where the other crash survivors were and had crossed back with a few of them. With everyone on high alert and tense, with the Others out there, it really was an accident. A horrendous one, but an accident all the same. The girl, Shannon, was simply there at the wrong time. Ana Lucia had gotten spooked, mistook her as an Other, and being the trigger-happy ex-cop, she shot the girl, and killed her.

He’d winced and though he hung back, watching silently as conflict truly began to take hold of the group, he silently supported Ana Lucia, taking her side. It had been a mistake, anyone could have made it. Unfortunately, it had been Ana Lucia with the gun…

He watched her, as she had the girl’s lover, a Middle Eastern named Sayid Jarrah, tied to a tree. He watched as Michael and the rest tried to reason with the Latina ex-cop to set the guy free, and as she refused.

The man’s face was that of rage and pain. Not nearly as powerful as either his or Ana’s, but still evident and strong. He knew that Ana had reason to keep Sayid tied up. Hell, he would have done the same thing. The man was murderous, not that he could blame him. Not that Ana Lucia could blame him either. It was pretty obvious to him, that Ana too had lost someone and was suffering – a loved one – and she felt guilty for taking Sayid’s lover.

When Ana Lucia let Michael go, he knew that the guy wasn’t going back to their camp. It read in the guy’s eyes. He was going to get help. With Michael gone, the rest of the group left soon after, heading to the other surviving camp. This left Ana Lucia, Sayid and himself in the little clearing. Ana with her gun, Sayid tied to the tree and himself, just sitting out the way, yet close enough to hear every word and to observe.

By this point, everyone was used to his silent, yet powerful and calming presence. From the start, his presence had a calming yet intimidating affect on everyone, even Ana Lucia. He never showed much emotion on his face, not even the fear everyone else was feeling. His face was blank of emotion, though those that looked close enough could see his emotions clear in his eyes, as intense as they were. He didn’t react to the things around him, though. He was usually on his own thoughts or his focus was solely on Ana Lucia.

That didn’t meant hat he wasn’t alert or aware of his surroundings. He was very much aware and alert of the danger he was in on this island.

His presence was felt by both Ana and Sayid, and they would occasionally glance his way. He could tell, that they were both slightly unnerved with his silent staring. Neither said anything. He could tell that Sayid was surprised that Ana Lucia put up with him without her ever present scowl, or without a threat. She was used to his intimidating presence.

Ana Lucia knew that, should he want to take charge of that group, that he could. He was big, powerful, calm and his presence immediately demanded attention and respect. He had no threatening or hostile aura, which was why nobody turned to him in suspicion or approached him. They knew he had their backs should they need it, and Ana Lucia knew that her leadership was safe – he’d have taken it from her already if he had wanted it. They had been on the island for a while.

He listened as Ana spoke to Sayid, about her past as a cop, and about her being shot. He was smart enough to read between the lines. She had lost something or more importantly someone, then. She’d killed the guy in cold blood, and she hadn’t regretted it, but it still didn’t make her feel any better about the loss. The loss…

She let Sayid go, just as the other survivors came. He followed behind Ana quietly, as they made their way to the camp.

He found himself once again shadowing Ana, watching her and listening to her. He never let her out of his sight for long, feeling unusually protective of her. Though, it was clear that she could protect herself to a good degree. He still watched her, knowing that just as much as she was strong, she was also weak, and hurting…He was sick of saving people, true, but he wanted her. Wanted to save her. Maybe saving her would save himself, too. She could be his much needed salvation…


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