island unknown | advanced rp discussion

*image header taken from set of LOST

Crash Site - The skeletal remains of Delta Flight 364, following the initial crash the survivors tried to distance themselves from this location. There's very little left here now save the odd burnt out suitcase and the unsalvageable sections of the plane, most will avoid returning here if they can help it.

Nearby locations
Western Shore
Jungle Treeline
Survivor's Camp

Emmy wanted to believe him, she really did. The sincerity in those green-flecked eyes was so utterly convincing, she might well have done, were it not for the sorry state of the wreckage. The fire had died now, leaving little more than a blackened shell in its place. Ash and smoke still lingered in a haze, surrounding the creaking remains of the plane - it made for an uncomfortable sight and Emmy found it especially hard to look at. Boarding the stark white airbus that morning, she never could have predicted that it would end the day looking like this, a mere skeleton of what had once been an impressive feat of engineering. She loosed a shaky breath, hugging her injured arm to her chest as the two of them edged closer.

Miles had chosen his phrasing carefully, and Emmy didn't know if she resented or appreciated him for that. I'm gonna find 'em. It seemed like a nice sentiment until she considered the words that had been left unspoken. Dead or alive. The thought left a painful lump in her throat and a tightness in her chest that didn't ease, even as the two of them made their way through the maze of debris and discarded possessions. Emmy tried not to think too much about who they belonged to or what that god-awful stench in the air was, between the choking scent of burning plastic and the acrid fumes of jet fuel, she could barely get a breath it.

Naturally Miles went on ahead of her. His legs were longer, his boots served as better protection from the rubble strewn ground, and Emmy had a sneaking suspicion he wanted to prevent her from witnessing something she might never be able to un-see. He stopped every couple of minutes, allowing her a moment to catch up to him, before they started on again. She was grateful for the socks, the sand beneath her feet was a deadly mix of sharp debris and shattered metal. Though she could still feel the slight sting of it through the thick fabric, it prevented her from getting anymore cut up.

Emmy knew she'd have to find a new pair of shoes before the day was up, once night fell she'd have little chance of being able to track anything down, let alone find two matching shoes. She'd already figured that come night time the light here would be minimal, there were no street lamps or buildings, and they'd likely be finding their way by moonlight - if they were lucky. Shielding her eyes from the sun, Emmy stood on her toes and craned her neck to peer at the wreckage. Most of the smoke had cleared now, but she could make out very little inside. The mere sight of it made her fearful, what if her family were still in there? She wasn't sure she could do it, didn't think she'd be capable of crawling through the wreckage searching out their faces, and knowing that at any moment she might just see one of them. And not the familiar face she knew, but a pale, bloodied corpse instead.

Emmy stopped short and grabbed for Miles' arm in an effort to slow him too. Her lower lip trembled, as she began speaking, her voice shaking. "I don't think I can do this Miles," she whispered, tears filling her eyes once again. "I can't go in there. I can't do it." Tremors ran through her body and she snatched her hand back to her chest, trying to calm herself with a series of quick, shallow breaths. Her dark eyes were wide and fearful, as she stared up at the wreckage, drinking in the bubbled plastic that lined the sides of it and the heat waves still rippling off the roof. There was no conceivable way that they were still alive in there, if they hadn't have escaped already then they wouldn't have.

She sniffed pathetically and wiped her unshed tears away with the heels of her hands, wincing as her shoulder twisted in its socket. Emmy wasn't strong enough for this, the horrific events of the day were still clouding her mind, each image coming back in shocking clarity. Her first moments awake on the beach, the burning bodies, the sickening crack of her shoulder, that girls blood coating her hands; and though the turbine had burned itself out at least half an hour ago she could hear that awful screech bouncing off the inside of her skull. She closed her eyes and drew a breath deep into her lungs, she could still taste smoke on her tongue and the smell of scorched flesh lingered in the air. Emmy wasn't going to be sick again, she wouldn't let herself, but right now the thought of heading back into the wreckage was enough to make her want to sink to the ground and sob.

Finally she raised her sullen gaze to Miles. Emmy didn't want to him to go in alone, after everything he'd done for her she couldn't bring herself to ask that much of him, and yet she would never know what happened to her family if he didn't. "I'm scared," she told him earnestly, her voice cracking. "I don't want to see them like that. I don't want my lasting memories of them to be..." Emmy broke off, unable to finish. She couldn't be sure what she had been about to say. The prospect of having the faces of her deceased family branded into her conscience was too much to bear. Even in the three years since her mom's death she'd been unable to shake the image of her mother laying there, still and unmoving. And that had been peaceful, un-traumatic. Emmy couldn't imagine trying to sleep at night if she had to see the inside of the plane.

The sagging frame of part of the airplane leaned into the sand in front of them, a few shouts echoing on the other side where he presumed amateur rescue missions were being played out. Nobody was surviving in that thing. Miles knew which battles to fight and what was worth trying, and if he were being honest, the state of the blackened interior was indication enough that he would encounter nothing good if he stepped inside. The integrity of the jet’s structure was now compromised as well, and it could have very well been suicidal to explore. At any given moment, the jet fuel could ignite and cause a gas explosion. Similarly, he had no idea whether electrical currents still flowed through the frayed cords and wires draped like vines across the entire overhead ceiling (or what was left of it, anyway).

Miles bravely stared down the mouth of the severed cabin with his hands on his hips trying to figure out the best way to dive into the wreckage. He supposed he could use that metal rod peeking out from a seat and push the sparking cables out of the way, and pray that using his shirt as a protective mitt would prevent him from being fried by God-knows how many volts. Once he got into the cabin, the question would be how he could see and differentiate bodies, and seeing as he’d neglected to find his rucksack earlier he had no flashlight. He was a dumbass for promising her something he couldn’t deliver.

Emmy startled him from behind when her arm shot out to grip his wrist, his green eyes darting down to her perplexed and agonized expression. On the verge of yet another emotional collapse, her eyes welled, her jaw quivered, and her body shrunk away from the wreck they had just spent the past fifteen minutes trekking up to. Miles didn’t know fear; his father had drilled that out of him as a young boy until the adrenaline rush of traipsing into danger was appealing. For shit like this, closure was something he liked to chase down and get to the bottom of. The quicker, the better. What use was it expending energy on wondering, what-if? When he had been stationed in war-torn countries, the only way they all survived mentally was to shut off their emotional capabilities.

When you started seeing everything from a callous, distant perspective, counting bodies got a little easier and nightmares didn’t rack his body every time he closed his eyes. It made him one of the finest at his job, and he thought now would be no different. Suck it up, he might have snapped at her, let’s get this over with. However, the malice never made it to his lips, let alone his eyes. Emmy looked so broken, emotionally, physically, mentally- if she saw even one of her family members dead or barely breathing, it would ruin the rest of her life. He’d seen it happen; soft greenies who came into the Corps, got their first look at bloodshed and held their first dead body. They never made it, transferred stateside or succumbed to issues like alcoholism, depression, clinical insanity.

Miles wasn’t sure if it had been the right thing to do, but he did it anyway.

He stepped down from the mounding rubble so that he was eye level with her, his weary expression gentle for once. She was reminding him of a private he trained earlier that year, consumed by terror and uncertainty. Except, this time, he had the overwhelming urge to protect her, keep her safe- rather than bark orders and demand push ups for her babbling. Without warning, he reached out to her and awkwardly tugged her against his chest, rocking her stiffly as she bit back tears. It didn't feel natural. His arms were rigid around her waist as if they didn't know what to do. He liked to think he did it in the rare name of compassion, but pressing his cheek tentatively to her ear and smelling whiffs of her shampoo had a calming effect he couldn’t get enough of. Even if it went against every last code of manhood his father seared into his being, Miles let himself be a source of solace for a girl he didn’t even know.

“I’ll look for ‘em, you stay here. I’ll do what I can when I find them, and if… if anyone passes away, we’ll give ‘em a right funeral.” Miles promised yet another foolish thing, his fingers curled lightly around the fabric on the back of her dress. “Okay?” Pulling away from her body, Miles’ tired gaze settling on those round brown eyes. “We owe it to them to at least try,” he reasoned, inhaling tersely with the lingering memory of all those missing soldiers over the years that he wished he’d tried harder to recover. Who knew where their souls laid, on foreign enemy soil with families unable to even bury a body. Emmy needed this closure.

Those steady green eyes consumed her, filling her field of vision and Emmy found herself unable to tear her gaze away as Miles looked upon her. He didn't say a word, but he didn't have to either. For once she could read the compassion in his face, the understanding that lingered behind his eyes. The gentleness of his expression was a stark difference to the cool visage he had kept up for much of the time they had spent together, and not for the first time was she reminded of just how young he was. A single tear broke through her resolve and dribbled down her face, carving a route through the smoke and ash that still covered her skin. She didn't have the energy to wipe it away.

Emmy wished she could be stronger, wished she could be like him. Mere moments ago their roles had been reversed, but he seemed to have forced those emotions aside as quickly as they had come. She simply didn't have the willpower to do the same. Her throat burned, and just as she thought she would crumple completely, Miles reached out and drew her against his chest. She melted into the contact, even as every fibre of her being told her not to. They had done this already, they were wasting precious time. But he was warm, and she was afraid, and as unnatural as the embrace felt, Emmy realised it was exactly what she was craving. Though perhaps not from a complete stranger.

In the last hour, Miles had made her cry, swear, sob and snap. And yet she wanted nothing more than for him, for someone to hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay. Her lips parted and she loosed a low, shaky sob. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear, the quiet strength of the muscles that were wound around her waist. Emmy felt safe, and it was a feeling that she hadn't felt for a very, very long time. Even before the crash, she couldn't recall any one moment in which she felt protected, secure, as though nothing in the world could hurt her. But somehow, in the midst of all this chaos, she had discovered that feeling in the embrace of total stranger.

Her skinny arms were around his neck again, hanging loosely against his back. She felt gangly and awkward against him, dwarfed by his height and the gym-honed body that came with it. His arms were tensed, rigid as though he wasn't quite sure whether he ought to touch her not. Emmy only kept up the contact, her body curled tightly against his, her hands balled into his shirt. She worried that if he were to let go again she might just break apart. Her face was buried into the crook of his neck, and she felt the hum of his voice as he spoke again. Slowly, she lifted her head and looked at him, fear swimming in her gaze.

"Miles, no," she whispered, but his hands were at his sides once again. Gooseflesh rose on her arms as he pulled back, stepping out of their embrace. Emmy felt cold. She could hear the words he was speaking, she could understand what he was trying to say, but the prospect of him going in there - what if something happened? He could die, and if he died she'd be left all alone once again. Her legs were shaking, barely keeping her upright. She tried to meet his gaze, tried to read the expression in his eyes, but the gentleness had faded as quickly as it could come. Emmy could practically see him steeling himself, getting his head into the right frame of mind to face off whatever lay inside there.

Her own gaze drifted to gaping maw of the wreckage, and a shudder went through her. The jagged edges surrounding the smoking entrance were enough to send a ripple of fear going through her, let alone what actually lay on the inside. She sniffed, her brows drawing downward. Biting down on her lower lip to stop herself from crying, she focused on the lilt of his voice and the words that followed. We owe it to them to at least try. He was right, why did he have to be right? Emmy gathered herself enough to nod, a short, sharp jerky movement. Had she moved any slower she was certain she would have begun to shake her head.

She exhaled slowly and reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Please be careful," Emmy whispered. She kept a hold of his hand for a moment too long, as if she might actually be able to keep him there for a moment longer. But finally she let go. Emmy watched as he turned his back on her, making a move towards the wreckage. "Miles!" he stopped, turning as she skidded a foot or so down the rubble towards him. She searched his green eyes once again, and in spite of the tears in her eyes, her expression grew serious. "If it sounds like it's going to collapse or you hear me yell for you, you get out okay?" Emmy said, now practically begging. Her brown eyes shimmered, and through her trembling lips she whispered, "Promise me?"

The smoke was consuming. It was the first thing she had noticed when she woke up. The heavy density of the black smoke that made her throat raw and her eyes burn. Her bones ached and around her was a wreckage of metal. She was under it. Claire's breathing turned shallow.
The plane. The crash. Shit. Where was everyone?
Claire strained as she frantically tried to get the metal off of her. It didn't budge at first, but she wouldn't have that. "Henry! Henry!"
She pushed against the metal as she cried out their names. Her voice was hoarse but she screeched it anyway.
Her kids. Where the hell were her kids. They needed her.
With a grunt she pushed at the metal. They needed her. It budged.
PInstakingly slowly she moved the metal panel piece by piece. Too slowly. Blood was streaming down her. She felt it and yet it didn't deter her. Her kids. Her children.

With a final shove she dug her fingers in the sand trying to create more space. She needed to get out. The metal bit into her stomach and she used her arms to drag herself out.

Panting Claire looked around properly as she stood on shaky legs. Where the hell was she? Where was everyone?
Walking- or more stumbling blindly Claire headed in a random direction and started yelling frantically. "Emmy! Alyssa! Jonah! Tommy! HENRY! " the smoke bit at her more than ever and she wasn't sure if her face was wet from the tears or from the crash. Perhaps both.
"Please. Please. Where are my kids?" She wasn't beyond begging at this point as she searched for anything. She saw a part of the plane wreck and started in that direction. If they were dead.... god help whoever she came across.
"HENRY!" She needed her husband and her kids more than ever. She couldn't deal with this crap. It was all her fault. But she needed her kids. She dragged herself across the sand. If she could just get to that plane wreck. Someone was sure to be there.

ClIre bit back another wave of tears as she saw someone. She practically tumbled towards the girl before stopping short. She took a sharp intake of breath as she ran towards her not bothering to hold back the fresh wave of tears.
She couldn't form words as she crashed into Emmy and held her tightly. Suffocatingly so. But she needed it more than ever. She rocked back and forth not seeing anything else or acknowledging anything else. Just her step daughter in front of her that may as well been her daughter. She was safe. She hoped she was t hullicinating this. She had found one kid.

There was no plan, except to call out their names and scour the place for blonde hair. Was he a dumbass? Probably. Did he have a death wish? Absolutely. He knew nothing he found would be pleasant, unless by some stroke of luck her siblings had all survived shock, asphyxiation by smoke, flying debris, trauma to the head, on top of any other injury they had sustained. He was under the impression that since he did not know a single person on that plane, that rifling through bodies would be easier. When twin IEDs had taken two of his men’s vehicles as well as part of a loosely-built brick building, he had been the first to run and sift his team out of the wreckage.

Seeing the men he slept in cots next to and ate his meals with lying lifeless under brick and tire scraps, knowing the names of their daughters and fiancé’s, had broken Miles already. This couldn’t be much worse, if not far less painful. He wanted to spare Emmy the same torture he’d gone through so she wouldn’t have to be haunted by floating faces with missing noses every time she tried to go to sleep. It never got easier, he could tell her that much.

It wasn’t so much that he dreaded going inside and being consumed by the horrors that awaited. Death unfortunately no longer held much over him. Instead, the thought of disappointing Emmy paralyzed him. It was stupid, how he wanted to find her step family just so she could really believe he wasn’t a useless shit. He’d already let a little girl die, he’d be damned if he turned up empty-handed after he’d opened his fat trap pledging to recover her siblings, father, and stepmother from the big metal coffin that still breathed smoke. It weighed on him, losing the people who trusted him to keep them safe, and he reckoned his loyalty to Emmy and her cause was to prove it he wasn’t just a big fuck up like he’d always believed.

Her small delicate hands caught his rough dry fingers with a lingering squeeze, unspoken hesitant words swimming behind those glimmering eyes. Breathing intensely with every muscle in his body tensed, he didn’t know what to make of it. The blisters on his palm felt leathery on her youthful skin, a stark and shocking contrast. He couldn’t remember the last time his hands had been even remotely smooth let alone soft, as he was constantly lifting boxes or weapons or tools that burned angry red sores into his palm.

Please be careful.

Miles said nothing, nodding curtly as he turned his back and went on his way. He didn’t get far when she shouted his name, his head snapping on a pivot. Was something wrong? She slid down a few pieces of airplane wing plates in those socked feet towards him until she was close enough he could count her freckles. What could possibly be so urgent that it couldn’t wait until after he’d found her family?

Her desperate plea tore at heartstrings he had previously believed to be nonexistent. Emmy gave a damn, and that was starting to be a problem for Miles. He didn’t know her, she didn’t know what he had done or was capable of, and here she was, asking him to promise her that he’d save himself before the airliner caved with him inside it. In all his years, everyone was telling him to be safe “out there” and to come back home and he’d brush it off as rhetoric used because nobody knew what else to say to an unsmiling, war-stricken Marine with flashing bouts of PTSD.

The creases above his eyebrows darkened, weariness flooding into his narrowed eyes. He’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t tempted to throw his arms around her and hold her until rescue arrived on the beach. “Hey,” Miles low gravelly voice exhaled at last, his boots trudging closer to her so they were nearly toe to toe. “I always come back, okay?” It wasn’t much he could offer in terms of reassurance, but the statement had held up until now quite nicely. Miles seemed to survive all the worst shit, and he was certain that a search and rescue op in a grounded plane would not be the way he left this cruel and sad world.

“I promise. Now sit your ass down, keep that shoulder tight,” Miles nodded his head towards a flatter, cleaner part of sand that her poor feet could rest before the blood caked her socks from overexertion. Sometime later he would have a go at cleaning her scrapes- after he located her family in this death trap. Emmy cared. No matter how remotely or sincere, she cared that he was alive, and he didn’t know what to do with that information as he turned it over and over again in his head gingerly moving towards the looming airplane- or, what remained of it.

Stepping up on a suitcase, Miles caught hold of the interior floor edge, hoisting himself upward with a sharp hiss of air. The plane shrieked at his weight setting off an imbalance, but after a minute of remaining frozen in place, he crawled forward into the dark aisle of seats closest to him. The interior was a disaster; the masks had all deployed from the ceilings and dangled, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, haunting silhouettes of the back of unmoving heads peeked over several seats. It smelled absolutely rancid to the point where he paused three rows up to breathe into his shirt before continuing. “Jonah? Jonah? Tommy!” He slowly ambled blindly deeper into the cabin stooping to avoid anything that would catch his height.

It was as if a hurricane had tore through the cabin. Overhead bins were open and spilling contents, the snack trolley had tipped over and dumped its contents across a few aisles, shoes, pillows, insulation were strewn all over the floors. He spotted several bodies and unfortunately, some poor bastards that twitched in their own blood when he passed by. “Alyssa? Tommy! Jonah!” Miles’ booming voice would repeat every so often as he made his way. He wasn’t here for anyone else. Holding the crook of his arm up to his nose, he continued forward, treading lightly.

He must have been in there for not twenty minutes when he stumbled surprisingly across his own seat. 23 C. His row was unoccupied, a big hole blown into the side of the cabin where the jets had combusted- that had likely been where he, and his seat mates, had been discarded along the sand. His mission was put on hold as he scrounged the nearby seats for his rucksack, knowing full well its contents could come in handy if he was able to recover it. “Come on, goddammit, where are you?” Miles grumbled to himself, crawling on his hands and knees and moving aside fallen carry-ons to find his trusty backpack. The damn thing he pried loose from underneath some other seats, and other than being dusty, not a single item had come loose from inside.

Well pleased, Miles slung it over his shoulders and snatched up a pair of some basic bitch’s Birkenstocks from an open suitcase for Emmy before heading on his way again. Towards the front of the plane, the body count soared. He would put his guess at 20-30% didn’t quite make it, at least not without substantial injuries. Miles was just kneeling to investigate a smaller boy’s pulse in his seat when suddenly he felt himself being throw off his feet and loud noises crashing all around him.

The turbine had violently erupted just outside, and the energy from the explosion had rocked the plane from its position. Now, it was almost completely on its side, and Miles could just remember falling past seats and hitting someone’s face on the way down, landing painfully on what was now considered the floor- the left wing of windows. Landing on his backpack he’d had the air knocked from his lungs, his green eyes widening at the breathlessness that strangled him. With the fall of the jet on its wingless side, the luggage had also fallen prey to gravity, sliding and tumbling around him. Something struck his face, his head felt cold, then Miles could only see black.

I always come back, okay? Those were the words that kept repeating in Emmy's mind as she paced back and forth outside the jet liner, coupled with a final fleeting image of Miles hoisting himself into the plane, and fading into the dense smoke. She had ignored his request for her to sit tight and wait. Emmy was starting to realise that she wasn't particularly good at doing that, and so had remained standing, the fingers of one hand pressed tightly against her lips as she stared into the smouldering wreckage. She could no longer see him, and for some reason that made her heart pound violently in her chest. There was still smoke curling around the entrance where he had disappeared, and the stench of jet fuel and melted plastic burned her nose and eyes.

If it was like this out here, she couldn't begin to imagine how bad it was inside. She stopped in her pacing as she heard his distant voice carry through the wreckage. Those were the sounds she listened for, straining to hear his voice, any small indication that he was still alive in there and searching. Regret surged through her as she stared at the jagged metal surrounding the edges of the plane. She should never have asked him to go in there, what if he got hurt? A painful lump rose in her throat and Emmy clenched her teeth to stop herself from crying, she had to believe that Miles had this under control. He's been through worse she told herself, he's been to war, he's experienced and he knows what he's doing. And he's going to find them. Those words became her new mantra as she stepped from foot to foot, unable to remain completely still. She was a tiny bundle of panic and nerves, but some part of her told her that if she kept moving she wouldn't just sink into the ground and lose it completely.

But what if he didn't find them? She thought pathetically, the tropical breeze ruffling her dress and throwing her hair around her face. What if he didn’t find them and he got hurt and all of this had been for nothing? Her dark eyes scanned the rubble strewn beach once again. She’d searched the sand, and the trees. Back at the clearing she’d looked into the face of every survivor she had come across, and not one of them had been a member of her family. Fear had her shaking again, her arms trembling against her sides. She could barely get a breath in, unable to focus on anything but the darkened interior of the wreckage in front of her. Shielding her eyes against the sun, Emmy scanned the smoke-filled cabin, willing Miles’ figure to come traipsing out at any moment, but he didn’t. And she could no longer hear his voice carrying up through darkness. She might well have sent him to his death. That thought was crushing, but there was little Emmy could do to force it from her mind.

“Come on, Miles,” she breathed, “Come on.” Her mind was whirring, flicking through every possible scenario. And not just for him but for her family too. Alyssa, Tommy, Jonah, Claire...Dad. She swallowed tightly, not wanting to dwell on thoughts of her father. It was something she wasn’t yet ready to make her peace with. And she had to think of the others, because in spite of their differences if Emmy were to lose them too, she wasn’t sure what she would do. She exhaled slowly, finding herself cold in spite of the warmth of the air around her. The wreckage creaked slightly in the breeze, the only sound to pierce the eerie silence of the beach. Come on, Miles. Footsteps sounded on the sand nearby, but Emmy ignored them. Come back to me, please... They were getting closer, but she didn’t pay them any attention, at least not until...

“Claire?!” Emmy almost lost her footing as her stepmother collided with her, pulling her into her arms. She just about managed to steady herself, and stared wide-eyed at the brown haired woman in front of her. Emmy’s mouth fell open. “Claire,” she whispered, hardly daring to believe that she was real. They held each other for a long time, both trembling and shaking, barely able to form words. Emmy didn’t even consider for a moment that they were hugging, and that this was quite possibly the first time they had done so. Her dark brown eyes found Claire’s pale blue ones. “You’re alive,” she whimpered in a small voice, before burying her head against Claire’s shoulder. Emmy couldn’t help it, tears sprang from her eyes and her shoulders shook as a series of violent sobs rocked her body. She clutched herself closer to her stepmother, feeling the steady warmth of her and the familiar scent of her perfume. Gradually her sobs died down and she gathered herself enough to get a good look at her Claire. The other woman appeared mostly unscathed bar the obvious cuts and bruises that seemed to cover every passenger Emmy had come across. There was a particularly nasty bruise on her forehead, but she was coherent and standing and walking, which was a relief for Emmy who had been bracing herself for the worst. “Where are the others?” she asked suddenly, extracting herself from Claire’s arms and whipping her head across the beach. If she had made it here, then it was very likely that the kids were here too, and not trapped inside the plane as she had first thought. But if that was the case then...Miles?

Panic seized Emmy, and she stumbled away from Claire, down the rubble towards the blackened entrance of the plane. He had not yet emerged, and dread leached into her veins as she realised there was a very high possibility that the rest of her family were not in there. She glanced back at Claire, ignoring the expression of bewilderment that had risen on her features. “My friend is still inside! He went looking for you guys!” she explained, her voice rising. Emmy placed her hands around her mouth and yelled towards the burnt out carcass of the plane, the words tearing from her throat. “Miles! Miles?! You need to-” she didn’t get a chance to finish. A deafening boom sounded in her ears and heat washed across her face as the turbine exploded on the sand. The force of the blast threw Emmy off her feet, and slammed her down on the sand, knocking the air from her lungs. She couldn’t breathe, and for a second she lay there in shock, trying to register what had happened.

With her ears ringing, and her vision hazy, she clawed her way to her knees and grabbed for Claire. Emmy still couldn’t get a breath in, badly winded by the impact. Her blurring gaze drifted back to the wreckage and horror rippled through her as she caught sight of the remains of the plane. It was buckled now and laying on it’s side, ripped apart by the devastating power of the explosion. It took Emmy a moment to realise that she could breathe again and that she was screaming. “Miles!!” She shrieked, scarcely recognising her own voice. The words were half-screamed, and barely human. “No! No-Miles! Miles!” Emmy staggered forward, slipping and sliding on the debris in an effort to get back to the plane. The metal tore through the socks he had given her and cut her feet once again, but she didn’t notice the pain. Her chest was heavy, her mind was whirring. She had to help him, she had to get him out, she had to do something.

When he awoke, his body lurched upright with a start. A gripping pain shot up through his spine and crippled him onto his side, fingers curling around whatever he could grasp as he yelped with excruciation. Gasping for air, adrenaline surged suddenly through his veins and he whipped his head around him. Everything was upside down, backwards, it made no sense that the sky was visible above him but his boots currently rested on a small window. Light streamed pale through the gray smoke steaming above him, and the memory of a haunting explosion came flooding back. Miles swayed where he hunched on his elbows, nauseated by the smells and the all-too-familiar sensation of being knocked from his feet by a warm wave of heat energy.

His hands were trembling uncontrollably, quivering rapid breaths escaping his chapped lips. In the blast he’d cut an unsightly gash into his left forearm, as well as twisted his ankle under a heavy suitcase. Not to mention, his back was blown out by the impact his spine had on his rucksack flying across the cabin at several miles per hour. Emmy. Her face surfaced out of nowhere, panic mobilizing him in spite of the rippling pain throughout his body. He had promised her to find her siblings, and he had also promised her that he’d return to her. Claustrophobia was setting in as Miles glanced at his surroundings with fear, seeing as the only way out seemed to be up, through the freshly-blasted hole, or to his right, out the missing tail end. To do that, he’d have to clamber over the seats, and he wasn’t in the condition to do so…

But that wasn’t going to stop him. The heavy suitcase and other miscellaneous pieces he tossed aside. Covered in ash and maddened in his scramble to get the hell out of there before he could be blown to hell this time, Miles cried out in agony as he used both hands to pull himself and his thirty pound pack to his feet. The man was dizzy with exertion. He tenderly tried his weight on his ankle, using the windows as a makeshift walkway with his hands gripping each seat until he could break out in a desperate limping jog towards the light. It was just like that time in Kabul, when their carrier transport was shot down. Nothing different, he repeated in his head over and over just to get him in the mentality to take another step, then another.

Rather than exiting the way he came, Miles tripped out of a gaping opening in the ceiling of the plane on his right. He was spat out on the side of the crash closes to the ocean waves, and somewhere he thought he could hear Emmy’s shrill voice. “Emmy?” Miles roared, exerting every last ounce of energy to lurch forward around to the back of the plane where he’d left her. “Emmy!” He tried again, this time his voice cracking as he threw himself just around the corner and into the open.

He spotted her curly hair before anything else, a soft sob escaping his chest unknowingly as he collapsed to his knees. She was okay. None of the blast had hit her from what he could see from fifty yards away and a piercing migraine that was seeping into his vision. His backpack he discarded immediately onto the ground and his body doubled over with exhaustion as blood trickled into the sand from his burning arm. Turning over on his sweat-soaked back as best as he could, Miles closed his eyes and took in the fresh air from where he lay in defeat. He’d not only managed to get himself hurt, but he’d compromised the op to find her family. Had he ignored his selfish wants and left his rucksack where it was stowed, maybe he could have at least saved that kid, regardless of whether or not it was her brother.

((omg, I 150% ship Miles and Emmy. Just saying- THE MUM APPROVESSS. And I have no idea when i post, is it just random order???))

The smell was familiar, and Claire hung onto it like a lifeboat. She was not alone. Claire clutched at Emmy as though she would never let her go. Her thoughts were circling around the same sentence. She was alive. She was alive.
Claire cried as she held Emmy in her arms and did not even have the energy to properly acknowledge that Emmy cried too.
"You are alive." She managed to weep out between tears, and she felt her body shake with tremors. Though relief- utter relief washed over her. She wasn't sure if Emmy was injured, but the fact that she was alive. That was enough.

When Emmy loosened the grip, Claire's breath hitched, realisation setting in. Where were the rest of the children? She looked around expecting to find them. Though she was only met with sand, water and a plane wreck. The plane wreck itself she looked at properly. Debris, and panels and a part of the wing that had crushed dangerously so. Were people in there?
Was her family in there?
Claire's tremors escalated and she began screaming again.
"HENRY! Where's Henry?"
She clutched at Emmy, willing her to understand. "Where are they all?" Though even if Emmy did reply, Claire would not have listened.

Claire diverted her attention from the plane to Emmy when she felt movement. Emmy? Where was she going. Not wanting to be separated, Claire frantically ran after Emmy who was going towards the wreckage. "Emmy? EMMY! COME BACK HERE!" Her voice cracked. But she didn't care. She couldn't care less. She didn't want to be alone.

Her feet slid along the sand as she ran to Emmy who was yelling something at her. But Claire could not hear anything. Why was she going to the wreckage? Was Henry in-
Her thoughts were cut off sharply as the plane erupted in flame and an explosion ricochet onto the beach. The force hit her roughly and her and Emmy were flung backward. Her breathing quickened. The Plane- The Plane- She couldn't finish her thought as she crawled towards Emmy and clutched her to her chest. Her ears were ringing and everything did not feel real- it felt like it was all a dream. She wanted it to just be a nightmare.
But she knew it wasn't.

Crying Claire held onto Emmy tightly. But Emmy was yelling something. A name, and was trying to go towards the wreckage. Claire didn't budge, instead she roughly kept Emmy close to her and hugged her tightly.
She shakily comforted Emmy without much thought trying to soothe her. Rubbing at her hair and rocking back and forth gently.

Claire tried to make out what Emmy had been yelling. Miles.
Who the hell was Miles? And why was Emmy jumping in an exploding plane for him.
Claire would have said that she misheard Emmy if not for a couple minutes later she saw a figure jump out of the plane wreck yelling 'Emmy'. If Claire was in her right mind she might have pieced together that that was the Miles that Emmy had planned to sacrifice herself for, but Claire wasn't. What she saw was a man practically charging at them.
Ears still ringing Claire clutched at Emmy tighter and shuffled backwards away from the wreckage. Away from the man that had now laid in the sand.

"Get off me," she begged, tears coming thick and fast. "Claire let me go! You need to let me go." Her step-mother's arms were vice-like and it took all of Emmy's strength to extract herself from her grasp. Finally, she wrenched herself free and stumbled back on the sand, struggling into a standing position. Her dark eyes fell upon the remains of the wreckage and a feeling of despair washed over her as she took in the sight.

The body of the plane was completely crushed, one side of it caved in and the other burned beyond recognition. There was no inconceivable way for anyone to walk free of that. "Miles?" she called out again, as if saying his name might just bring him back. Her voice was met with resounding silence. Emmy swayed suddenly, and clutched at her head, suddenly feeling weak and dizzy. No, it wasn't possible. He couldn't be...could he? She staggered forward a step, and was almost on the brink of collapse when she heard her own name carrying over the roar the flames and the tide.

Emmy froze and glanced back at Claire. It hadn't been a woman's voice, of that much she was certain. She might have thought she'd imagined it, were it not for the fact that seconds later she heard it again. Miles. A flutter of hope stirred in her chest, it had to be him. She was already moving, stumbling around the edge of the impact zone, racing down the beach in the vague direction she had heard the shouting from. Her legs were unsteady, and she ran with all the elegance of a new born fawn, tripping her way over the debris in an effort to find him.

She didn't hear her name again, and for a moment she feared she wouldn't be able to find him at all, at least until she spotted the prone figure lying some distance away. "Miles!" she yelled, the muscles in her legs burning as they carried her across the beach. Emmy reached his side seconds later and dropped to her knees in the sand. "Miles? Miles? Can you hear me?" Her shadow fell over him as she leaned across and placed her palms against the side of his face, her fingers curling around the back of his neck.

His eyes were firmly closed, but she could see the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He was breathing at least. Emmy's gaze travelled from his torso, to his legs and back up to his face, searching out any injuries. The only obvious one was a large wound that had torn through his left arm, it was still bleeding profusely, red seeping out onto the sand and staining the side of his fatigues. Just looking at it brought back images of the girl they had tried to save, and a wave of nausea settled over her.

Emmy gave her head the smallest shake in order to steady herself and searched out her step-mother's face. "Claire? Do you have anything we can use? It's his arm, he's bleeding. Some water, a clean shirt, anything?" She was surprised by the calmness in her tone, for the first time since waking up on the beach she almost sounded like she was in control. It was a far cry from how she actually felt, but she took a small amount of pride in the strength her voice held in that moment.

She was screaming his name, but Miles couldn’t make out even the hoarsest of noises to call out to her. I’m right here, I’m right here, he wanted to tell her, but his eyes were fluttering shut and his chest was in immense pain. Somewhere, her voice carried over the breeze and reached his ears as he lay unresponsive on the sand still fighting for each breath. He’d swallowed smoke and fumes, and combined with dehydration, he felt his worst lying there in the burning sand. Heat beat down on his brow and the light was more than blinding even with his eyes closed, and for the first time Miles considered that he may actually not be “fine.”

What he needed was to hydrate, get something in his system, and flush out the shit in his throat, but that wasn’t exactly an option right then. The sand next to him was disturbed, he could feel the grains prickle against his bare arm as she dropped to her knees next to him. He felt her cool shadow across his face, then her hands on his cheeks and neck. A soft moan of pain stirred from his lips, his head turning in response to her touch. His lips were dry and cracked, his glistening skin was caked with dark streaks of black that crept into his hairline. It didn’t often happen that Miles found himself rendered useless, but now was one of those times, and all he could do was lay there.

With Emmy’s arrival he had relaxed into her protective hold, her voice and another woman’s muffled. His ears were still ringing from the explosion, but maybe that was the dehydration and delirium. Miles didn’t know how long he floated unconscious, but when he finally blinked against the harsh sun and made out the silhouette of a girl above him, Miles’ arm was bandaged with a scrap of shirt and the soot had been wiped from his eyes and mouth. Breathing anxiously, Miles tried to sit up, but was prevented from doing so by a dull throb in his skull. Miles winced and let himself fall back into Emmy’s arms defeated.

He felt warm all over, as he’d been baking in the sun for however long, and with the calming lull of waves in the background, it was almost tempting to fall back asleep. Emmy’s tangled curls hovered over his face, her hands caressing his face. “I told you I always come back,” Miles murmured almost unintelligibly, ignoring her frantic assault of concerned questions. Then, his half-awake expression darkened, and Miles couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “I couldn’t find them,” he apologized quietly, “there was a boy, I tried to check if he was breathing and then-“ And then the plane exploded.

(view spoiler)[ i can 100% fix whatever i just didn’t know how to move on without rp’ing a little bit of emmy! but totally let me know what you had planned for her what she did while he was passing out and i will change it, what i put was just kind of filler until i know :) (hide spoiler)]

She didn't like the colour on him. The sickly green undertone that lingered beneath the natural tan of his skin was starting to worry her, and she didn't know what to do to alleviate it. He was hot and clammy to the touch, his skin roasting beneath the tropic heat of the sun, and his lips cracked and dried almost to the point of bleeding. There was little she could do to soothe the raging heat of the day without dousing him in water - which she didn't have - or dragging him up the beach into the shade - which she didn't have the strength for. Her frustrations bubbled to the surface in the form of an exasperated groan as she frantically grappled for anything she could use to tend to the wound on Miles' arm. Claire was doing the usual parent thing, which for the most part involved a lot of concern and minimal action. Not for the first time that day did Emmy find herself longing for her cool-headed father and his unlimited resolve, he would have had this situation under control in a heartbeat. Finally Claire came to her senses just long enough to hand over the water and spare t-shirt she'd been keeping hold of for Tommy. Emmy bit out a thank you, as her step-mother did the honours and tore the shirt right down the middle. If it wasn't for her busted shoulder, Emmy was certain she would have managed it herself.

There was a lot of blood, and Emmy realised with a start that she was already kneeling in the small puddle that had accumulated on top of the damp sad. "God dammit Miles," she breathed, her voice rasping near his ear. "Why couldn't you have just said no?" Emmy promised herself in that moment that she wouldn't ask anything of him again, well nothing that came with such a high death risk. She picked the water bottle up off the sand, and emptied a small amount over the cut on his arm, it was all she could do to try and clean the wound, with no saline or alcohol she had been left with very few options. Blood and water flooded over the torn flesh, staining Emmy's brown skin and Miles' filthy t-shirt. "I'm sorry if this hurts," she murmured, taking a strip of Tommy's t-shirt and tying the material tightly over the wound. Emmy was certain she saw Miles' features twitch as she pulled the make-shift bandage tight, and she tried her best to ignore the twinge of guilt in her chest. She could only hope he wasn't conscious enough to truly feel it, from the size of the wound Emmy was certain it must've been painful. Taking another strip from the now unrecognisable shirt, she emptied some water onto the fabric and carefully smoothed the damp cloth over Miles' eyes, mouth and brows. It took her a fair amount of time, but eventually the soot and grime came away to reveal the red raw skin beneath. Emmy almost winced at the sight of him, they had to get him into the shade.

She felt him shift, making an attempt to rise. "Hey, woah! Easy-" Her arms went under his head, supporting him has he sank back down into her lap. He was heavy, and his skin was fire to the touch. "Don't move just yet," she whispered, glancing up the beach for anything they could use as a stretcher. If he couldn't walk, then perhaps they could roll him onto something and drag him up the beach themselves. Her worrisome gaze found Claire's pale blue one. They had to try at least. Narrowing her eyes, Emmy scanned the nearby sand. There was nothing in the nearby vicinity they could use, but she wasn't about to leave Miles alone to go searching for anything either. "Claire," she said, her dark eyes swimming. "We need to make a stretcher, a sheet of plastic, part of the plane? Anything we can use to get him up the beach and into the shade of the trees. Please? I need your help." Her words were little more than quiet pleas by this point, but she was grateful when Claire didn't question her and simply nodded before jogging off in search of something they could use. With her step-mother occupied, Emmy returned her attention to Miles, smoothing his hair off his sweaty forehead with the cool pads of her fingertips.

She almost didn't hear him when he finally spoke up. His voice was little more than a harsh croak and she had to lean close in order to catch them. At his words, the slightest of smiles touched the corners of her lips and her eyes welled up. "I know," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I knew you would." Emmy closed her eyes for a moment, her thumb gently caressing his cheek as she cradled him there in her lap. Hurry Claire, please hurry, she thought, panic rising in her chest. Emmy tried to keep the fear from seeping into her features, trying to mirror the near-famous resolve of her father. She desperately wanted to get Miles out of the sun, he was definitely burned, almost certainly dehydrated and that coupled with the likely smoke inhalation, only sought to fill her with terror. Emmy scanned his face, watching as his expression clouded. She shook her head as he began to speak, and quickly cut him off. "No, it's alright. Ssh, hush, Miles," she soothed. "Save your voice." Part of her didn't want him to use anymore of his flagging energy, and the other half of her didn't want to hear what he had to say. She didn't need that despair on top of the dire situation she currently found herself in. Her hand reached across the sand, fingertips stretching towards the remains of the water. "Are you thirsty?" she said, finally getting her hand around it. "Here, drink something. It might help."

((hope this is okay Jamilah, just wanted to keep things moving, happy to change it if there's anything that doesn't work xD))

She was conflicted. Her instincts had told her to get Emmy and her out of here, away from the wreckage as fast as possible and to find the rest of their family. But- but- there was someone that needed her immediate help. When Emmy had brought her to a prone figure, Claire's first thought was that he was dead. He should have been dead. He was covered in blood, and had significant wounds. He was burned. In her glorious life- Claire had never actually seen someone as injured as this man. She wanted to help- she did- but she was stuck to the spot. She felt nauseous and had never wanted her husband here more than at that moment. He was the one that dealt with this stuff, while she helped around while she could. She couldn't look at the boy, and yet her eyes were transfixed.

When Emma finally got through to Claire, she had enough resolve left to give her Tommy's shirt and whatever she had. At this point she wasn't even aware of anything except the blood. The blood staining the man. And now the blood staining her step-daughter who was taking control of the situation.
Just like her father.
The thought had a lasting impact of her, and Claire dazedly tried to think of something to do. Anything.

Which was why when Emmy asked for her to find materials for a stretcher, Claire just nodded and took off. Finally having a reason to help and to be away from the blood.
At first, Claire just wandered around the beach trying to find something- but nothing was particularly useful. All the metal panels were crushed on top of something and deformed. A particular metal panel came into mind and Claire jumped at the thought.
Of course!
The sand flew in her hair as she sprinted to the spot where she had landed, which wasn't too far from here. Her breathing turned shallow and her head raced, but she focused all on one thought.
Emmy needs my help.
She came across the panel that had crushed her, it was slim but heavy. It was a perfect stretcher she supposed. Together with Emmy, they could push it with the boy on it. But first-
Claire didn't give it another thought as she braced her hands at the end of the panel and pushed up the sand dune. She grunted as she pushed and pushed.
Sweat fell down her forehead but she didn't give it much thought as she pushed it towards the plane wreck. By the time she got there she was panting and drenched in sweat. Her muscles were aching but she didn't give that much thought either. She pushed it towards the boy and didn't want to look at him. She didn't want to see the blood.

#

Emmy hushed him urgently, dismissing the rest of his unfinished sentence with the gentle forgiving stroke of his cheek. It was a world of difference compared to how he would have been treated had he been in the tender loving care of a staff sergeant. He was so accustomed to the sharp violently barking and stern orders to “get the hell up, ‘Gomery” that it was grossly disorienting that Emmy was coddling him as if he were her stroke-riddled grandad on his hospice deathbed. Miles hated failure, he learned as a kid that you either succeeded, or you failed. There was no sticker for trying or a round of applause for valiant effort. Even if Emmy tried to reassure him that it was fine, he was well convinced that it wasn’t. What if that little boy had been Tommy, or Jonah? There wasn’t a chance that he would have survived that blast, even half of his own body was tender with light scorch marks, tears in his fatigues from the burns.

Lying in her lap, Miles squinted through one eye up at her silhouette as she shifted under him to reach for a crinkling water bottle. Had he been any less whacked he might have batted the offering out of his face, growling something about how they should save it, but Miles wasn’t in his right mind. Everything ached and water sure as hell sounded delicious to him. The hand on his good arm lifted to grasp the bottle graciously, his teeth clamping around the cap to twist and spit it off into the sand. “Help me sit up,” Miles demanded shortly, frustrated that water had spilled wastefully into the sand in his attempt to push himself up on his elbows.

Sitting partially up against Emmy’s chest, Miles downed the contents of the bottle in seconds without meaning to. Despite being warm from sitting in the sun, the filtered water was divine to the parched gritty feeling on his lips, teeth, and mouth. Some dripped down his chin and spilled onto his already-damp shirt, but his thirst had subsided for the time being. Miles crushed and flung the water bottle aside, falling back into Emmy’s chest with her heartbeat throbbing in a soft lull. “I couldn’t find the rest of them,” Miles cleared his throat, but he didn’t get to finish much of his thought.

The obnoxious rattle of metal came from his left, his green eyes shifting to an approaching woman who dragged a piece of paneling their way. Who the hell was she? Miles stiffened against Emmy’s body, using what little strength he had left to push himself into a fully upright position. Even if it didn’t seem like the woman would hurt him or Emmy, he had to know what she was doing with that sheet of metal coming at them like that.

Miles was quite protective of Emmy, already steeling himself to say something nasty to the woman. Maybe she was going to ask them for something, or see if they had seen someone. The woman was mostly unscathed, dripping in her own sweat but untouched by blood. The bitch wouldn’t even look at him, which gave Miles all the more reason to mistrust her. Emmy didn’t seem perturbed but rather, relieved that the woman dropped the metal plank next to him. “The hell is this?” Miles demanded to know, just barely keeping himself from falling backwards from sheer exhaustion by gripping Emmy’s scraped thigh. He nearly like himself again, even if he looked like hell and hissed in pain every few seconds. “You know this woman?” Miles turned his head to Emmy and interrogated as the woman took a step back and avoided his heavy, swollen-eyed gaze.

If he had to guess, the plank was something of a makeshift cot or stretcher judging by the way the woman had laid it vertically alongside him. His legs would dangle, but it wasn’t a terrible size. Regardless of the woman’s decent retrieval skills, Miles wasn’t being hauled nowhere by anybody. He could walk, and even if it took him several hours to just get up the beach, it's what he intended to do.

Emmy pressed her lips into a tight line, and stared down the beach, her worrisome eyes unable to meet his gaze. Guilt riddled her, tearing into the very fibre of her being. She didn't have the heart to tell Miles that he had almost got himself killed for nothing, that it was very likely her siblings were not inside the plane but elsewhere on the sand just as Claire had been. Her mouth had never felt so dry, and she almost wished he'd saved her some of that water to combat that, if only because it gave her an excuse not to open her mouth for a few more seconds. Finally, she gathered herself enough to look at him again, meeting those steely green eyes with her own dark brown ones. She was pleased to see that he was looking slightly less dreadful, clear of soot and dirt, not quite so sun-parched - human at least. The thought of admitting she'd been wrong about her family, gnawed away at her as she looked at him, but finally she found her words. "They weren't in there," she said softly. Rip the band-aid off Em.. "I'm certain."

As if on cue, Claire's tangle of dark brown hair became visible just over the curve of the rubble and she arrived seconds later, sweaty and covered in dirt, but dragging a good sized piece of metal for them to use. Miles was sitting up, and Emmy's fingers splayed across his chest in an effort to keep him from moving anymore and possibly hurting himself. He was sat more or less between her legs, his back to her, one of her arms still looped over one of his shoulders. As Claire turned her gaze on the two of them, Emmy quickly dropped her hand to join the other on the sand. He seemed capable of supporting his own weight at least, and Emmy certainly didn't want or need any sort of inquisition from Claire on the nature of her short-lived connection with the near-stranger sat in front of her. She gave her stepmother a grateful close-lipped smile, but was prevented from saying anything as Miles sat up sharply and barked out a question. "Hey," she warned, her hand instinctively reaching out to catch the top of his arm this time. His palm closed around her thigh in an effort to keep himself steady, and heat flooded her cheeks as she felt the scrape of his calloused hands against her skin.

Those green eyes were on her again, and Emmy had trouble swallowing as he looked at her. She could see every fleck of gold-brown in his gaze, and she could only hope he wouldn't implode upon hearing that Claire was alive and well, and stood not three feet from where they were sat. Emmy wet her dry lips, and looked from Claire to Miles once again. "This is Claire," she said as carefully as she could manage, though her voice wobbled and the apprehension was clear in her words. "Miles, this is my step-mother." She searched out Claire's familiar blue eyes, there was something comforting in them and for the first time Emmy actually felt thankful to have her there . The nature of their relationship was a complicated one, which back home in Cleveland had mainly resulted in raging arguments and disagreements that had Emmy fleeing the house for hours on end. When it came to her applying for college she had naturally picked something out of state just to put some distance between her and the step-monsters her father had insisted she call family. They weren't bad people - the rest of the Lawson's - they just weren't her sort of people, they'd grown up on opposite sides of the country, and the differences between them had always been enough to drive them apart. At least until now.

"And Claire, this is Miles. He helped me off the beach after the crash, fixed my shoulder too." She left out the intricate little string of events that had taken place between then and now. There was no use filling Claire in on all the other things that occurred in the time since she'd woken up on the sand, mostly because there was too much to try and explain, but also because she felt some strange desire to protect Miles from the woman in front of her. To bear his moment of weakness down in the surf as her own. Her eyes went from Claire’s sweaty face to the metal panel she had hauled up the beach and laid parallel to them. It looked heavy, but it also looked sturdy enough to take his weight, which by this point was almost crushing her thigh. She gently squeezed the top of his arm, “Come on, you need to get out of the sun.” And judging by the look of him, he wasn’t about to make the journey up to the shade on his own two feet.

The look in his eyes suggested that he wasn’t getting on the make shift stretcher without a fight, and the tension in the air became palatable as she carefully manoeuvred herself out from under him. Her good arm went around his back, keeping him upright as she knelt in the sand next to his body. She just hoped he wasn’t about to fly off the handle the way he had before, because if he kicked off that much in front of Claire they’d all be in deep shit. Her eyes were practically begging him to comply, as she made every effort to move him into a position that would make it easy for them to get him onto the metal panel. Please, you stubborn ass, just let me help you!

Pushing up the slate had taken more of a physical toll on Claire more than she was willing to let on, but she realised she had more pressing matters to deal with. For starters, her other children. They must be around here somewhere if they were sitting on the plane together, right? She was brought out of her thoughts as the man acknowledged her presence. The hell is this? Was he serious? He had the nerve to ask her step-daughter whether she knew her? As though he had known her longer? She and Emmy were wasting time helping a stranger when her kids were out there somewhere. God, her kids could have been in that plane.
Blood and injuries forgotten, Claire's steel gaze met his own and in a low and deadly voice she said to him as though he was a misbehaving child, "Whoever the hell you are- get your butt on this panel so that I can find my family." With that she turned her gaze to Emmy and glanced at her arm. "Your shoulder?" She asked swallowing slighting. "What happened to your shoulder?" Claire's voice wavered. She hadn't really noticed an injury until she mentioned it.

Claire looked around the sand dunes again. The sun was scorching and they needed shade. She may not have been the most switched on at the moment but she knew that they needed proper shelter, food, water. The basic necessities. But she refused to do any of that without all of her family with her. With a pleading look at Emmy, she asked. "We need- We need to find them. Please." Poor Tommy, the youngest of them all. She hoped he wasn't alone.
Claire positioned herself on one side of the panel. They needed to get Miles dealt with as soon as possible so that her and Emmy can look for the rest of the family.

#

Well I’ll be damned, Miles’ expression flickered with irritation and discomfort upon hearing that the “bitch” in front of him was, in fact, Emmy’s step mother. He had insulted her to her face, and he knew that his lewd comment sure wasn’t earning him brownie points. Introductions were pointless, as he didn’t see himself getting to know the woman. Emmy had been an exception to his closed-off usual behavior, and he wasn’t about to become chummy with Claire just because she had brought a metal plate for him to be carted away on by two female civilians half his size. He wouldn’t hear of it, he took after his father in that stubborn way in which his lip curled and his eyes set with determination.

Miles tightened his grip on her thigh in face of her spiteful comeback, disdain and disapproval in every syllable brushing him aside because she wanted to find her kids. Speaking to him, as if he hadn’t just risked his life and more trying to find exactly that. He was a man of following orders, but he wasn’t going to take no flack from no bitch. Miles was fucking pissed, his jaw locked tightly as he matched her glowering stare. He was already deciding that his initial judgement of the woman was correct, and that he wouldn’t be getting along with her anytime soon. The joke was on her, she wouldn’t survive a single night on this island with that attitude. He could bet that she was the type to piss off the wrong people, present party included.

He didn’t have anything reasonable to say in response to her, and Claire had started to fuss over Emmy and her shoulder that he’d popped back into place. Emmy was tapping his upper arm and indicating that he should let go of her, and when he didn’t, she wriggled away from his vice-like hold around her knee to make unwanted preparations to transport him. He felt weak, but not weak enough to let himself be rolled onto the metal like some carcass. He wouldn’t allow that mentality, he could walk. He would make it.

Claire was a huffin’ and a puffin’ while Emmy tried to move his leg onto the stretcher, with urgent statements insisting that they had to find the rest of the kids. “Just stop.” Miles, impatient and ever the asshole, snatched his arm from her and curled away. “Go.” He insisted, silencing the two. “Fuckin’ go! Find them. I’ll be fine!” Miles snapped, guilt and embarrassment in his downcast bloodshot eyes. He was a hard ass, and as much pain as he was in now, he meant every word of what he said. He would be fine, he would survive. She had done a majority of the grunt work for him, tying up his arm and forcing water into his system. Now all he had to do was get in the shade, perhaps crawl his way to some creek or find some native plant he could wean water from. That, and he had his rucksack just a few feet away.

“I don’t need you, either of you.” Emmy had a family, she should have been running after them and tending to their injuries- not nursing him because he had compromised himself. It was frustrating to him, to have met someone, and become this useless sack of shit who couldn't even talk for a few minutes without the world spinning like a top. He could already anticipate in Emmy’s character that she wasn’t going to abandon him so easy, so he took hold of her good shoulder and stared as harshly into her eyes as he could muster in his current state. “Your family needs you.” The exertion of yelling at Emmy was starting to take its toll, his vision blurring behind a bright light that kept seeping in front of his eyes.

He would never forgive himself if he was the reason Emmy made it to her siblings, her father that she’d teared up over, minutes too late because she was too busy trying to carry him up a beach. Miles could very well fend for himself, and now that he had his pack, he would get on just fine. Sure, he might run a fever and risk an infection or heat stroke sitting out here, but he would take his chances. Emmy was starting to mean something to him, her kind eyes, freckled nose, soft brown curls, and he wasn’t keen to find out what it was.

Emmy didn't have the patience to pander to Claire's concerns about her shoulder. "It's fine." Her voice came out sharper than she had intended. "Miles' sorted it, but I'm going to need you to do most of the heavy lifting." Between the three of them they somehow managed to manoeuvre the top half of Miles' body onto the metal panel. She wasn't quite sure how they had done it, by the time they'd got him comfortably centred on the thick metal sheet they were all red faced, sweating profusely, and Emmy's shoulder was on fire. Sinking back on her knees, she filled her lungs and prepared herself for the next task.

It was just his legs, but with the way her arms were shaking, she wasn't expecting it to be easy. Her fingers had just clasped around one of his boots when her stepmother started up about her other children. Emmy shot her a worried glance, from the tone of Claire's voice it almost sounded as though she was ready to leave right at that moment. "We'll find them," Emmy told her, if only because that reassurance bought her a few more minutes in which to get Miles up to the tree line. She owed him, if it weren't for him, she'd still be running up and down the beach in a blind panic. There was no inconceivable way she was leaving him here, Claire had to be able to see that.

Miles however, didn't seem to see that. Emmy flinched as he snapped at the two of them, and something hot and fiery bubbled in her chest, all she wanted was to help him. She grabbed his arm again with both her hands, her shoulder screaming as she rolled him back to face her. "No," she said firmly. "We're not going anywhere." Emmy tried to search out his gaze, but he seemed to be doing everything he could to avoid looking at her. She sighed through her teeth, and pushed her wayward curls off her face. "For fucks sake, Miles, stop being so goddamn stubborn! Let us help you, you ungrateful git!" Her shoulders quaked as the force of the words left her gasping for air.

Emmy couldn't remember the last time she had yelled at someone so vehemently. She didn't want to look at Claire, knowing that if anyone would remember it would be her step-mother, she had undoubtedly been on the receiving end of one of Emmy's tirades in the past. Still trying to get a breath in, she grabbed Miles' leg and was just about to start pushing it onto the stretcher when he took hold of her shoulder. Emmy resisted the urge to shake him off, still furious with him and his inability to accept her help. The expression in his eyes was a cruel one, and the words that followed probably hurt more than he intended them to, if only because he didn't know her.

Your family needs you. Emmy's gaze shuttered, and she went still for a moment. He didn't know, he couldn't know. She tried to ignore the rising heat in her face. The Lawson family had never needed her, Emmy was the spare part in an already overcrowded household, the person who'd forced the kids to share bedrooms, the one they'd had to make space for at the dinner table. The Lawson's had never once needed her, let alone wanted her there. To this day she could still remember the looks of disdain that had crossed their faces when she arrived at the house. She was still a stranger in their home, not a sister, barely even family. If it weren't for her Dad, Emmy was certain they would have turfed her out long ago. Her brows drew down, and she tore her gaze away from him.

She'd had enough. "Shut up Miles!" Her voice was filled with quiet fury. "Just be quiet!" Emmy shoved his leg onto the stretcher with the last of her strength, and got to her feet, her body trembling with the effort. The hurt was clear on her face and in the shining brown of her eyes, but she wasn't about to let Miles see that. Numbly, she lifted her gaze to Claire and gestured towards the edge of the panel, there were a bits hanging off the side that ought to make for reasonable hand-holds. "Come on, let's just get this over with, and then we can go and find the kids." She sniffed and walked around to the back of the panel, far enough that Miles would have had to really crane his neck to see her. Crouching down, she curled her hands over two of the steadiest looking bits of plastic, and when Claire had done the same, they began the slow and painful task of dragging it up towards the trees.

When Emmy had moved into the Lawson family Claire had tried to make her feel welcomed. Had tried to make her transition as natural as possible. But she wasn't kidding anyone. She knew that her kids hated that there was one extra mouth to feed. That Emmy herself knew how much of a 'nastle' she was. But Claire, and Henry had tried. That was the purpose of this trip. To get the family closer together. Instead Claire had felt it had drifted them even more apart. And now- the plane crash. Claire felt as though it would be their ruin.
Emmy yelled at Miles and Claire could not help her flinch. She knew what it felt like to be on the recceiving end of that, and had initially thought it was directed at her. She tried to meet Emmys gaze but Emy avoided it. Claire was concerned for her stepdaughter. Who the hell did miles think he was to make them both feel like crap? They were helping him. With a frustrated huff Claire lifted her end of the panel and pushed and pushed. If the movement was painful claire didn't register it. She wanted this to be done as fast as possible, miles be damned, so Emmy and her could look for her children and Henry. Henry who will make everything bettter. He always did. He was the calm and collected one. So Claire needed to keep it together until they found Henry. She could do that.

Emmy, despite every preconceived notion that she was a soft-hearted pushover who cared too much, wasn’t going to give up on him. The sentiment was sweet, and the thought of someone refusing to leave him behind was heartwarming. However, it was damn foolish, and because of that, he couldn’t reciprocate compassionate feelings- for her own sake. The world was an unforgiving place, and the sooner Emmy learned about survival and putting people you loved first, the better off she would be. Considering the sensitive timeline of finding the rest of her family, he didn’t want to let her experience what it was like to be the reason someone she cared about died. There was hope, but not when she and her step mom were fixin’ to wrestle 180 pounds of Marine onto a warped metal sheet. Could they even lift him off the ground?

For the second time since he’d met her, Emmy iced him out with a snippy sharp tone that even made him feel sorry. The first time she’d called him stubborn and an ungrateful git he hadn’t so much as flinched, because he was under the impression that she just didn’t get it. This wasn’t a game, this wasn’t the time to be his hero- her beloved father and siblings, people he was sure knew and loved her, shared fond memories of vacations and bickering over bathroom sinks, they could have been looking for her. Miles? He would get on just fine, she’d helped him enough by holding him in the water and being his voice of reason earlier. Now, it was time for her to move on, but she wouldn’t be impressed with what he had to say.

While she arranged his legs and scoot him this way and that against his weak will, Miles had resisted and done what he could to show Emmy he wasn’t dicking around. He meant what he said. Was she just stalling at this point, trying to prolong the amount of time that lapsed before she went off in search of what could quite possibly be dead bodies? She wasn’t getting it. He could see that she was angry with him, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. Because he sincerely wasn’t wanting her help, was that it? It couldn’t be. She didn’t even know him. So then, what?

Miles wouldn’t give up his tirade, even if the sweat on his brow was slick and he felt nauseous from sitting up. Curling up on his side in the shade sounded just about lovely right then, but he wouldn’t let on to her that he was starting to cave under her persistent, repetitive corrections to his body positioning. Then, something in her snapped. Emmy decided she’d had enough of his berating, roaring at him with an intensity he didn’t even know could come from a human so petite and delicate. Miles stopped short, his jaw clenching. He wasn’t about to ask her what was wrong. Instead, he shut his goddamn mouth and slowly lay back on the makeshift stretcher just as she and Claire hoisted him with some struggle off the sand.

Her shoulder, Miles shaded his eyes with a heavy arm across his forehead, thinking about how much he’d actually fucked his relationship with Emmy just now. If it wasn’t another reason she should leave him there, he wasn’t sure what would make Emmy see sense. He didn’t understand what he’d said to offend her, other than the fact that he didn’t need her, but that had just been the plain truth. He shouldn’t have been her first priority. Why was Claire going along with any of this, anyway? It wasn’t as if he’d given her reason to like him. The jarring movement of being rocked back and forth on the stretcher and straining his muscles just not to fall off the damn thing absorbed most of his energy for the next few minutes, along with glum bitter thoughts wondering just what the fuck was going through her mind.

Eventually the nausea became so overwhelming that Miles laid on his back gripping the sides of the plank with his eyes shut tightly. He felt sick. They couldn’t get to the shade fast enough. When he finally felt them lower him onto the sand, Miles rolled over on his knees and dry heaved. Passing a particularly foul smelling rough patch had his stomach all tied up.

The final push to get to the shade was agony for Emmy. Every yank on the metal panel had her shoulder screaming in protest, and her jaw ached from clenching her teeth to combat that pain. Her feet were cut to ribbons, the socks soaked through with blood, and by the time they reached the trees, she was limping terribly. If that wasn't enough, her time in the sun had left her shoulders red raw, and her scalp burning along her parting. She couldn't have been more glad to pass beneath the shade of the trees, and as the coolness of the jungle enveloped her, she released the metal panel, and bent double to catch her breath. Her lungs burned as she gulped down mouthfuls of air, heart pounding in her ears and sweat gleaning on every bit of exposed skin. Miles' was retching loudly into the grass, and Emmy grimaced at the sound. For a brief moment she just let him deal with it, fuck him, but eventually that very human part of her forced her legs to move, and she found herself standing just off to the side of him, saying, "Are you alright?"

Emmy hated herself for it, that weak part that left her torn between desperately wanting to help him, and wanting to stomp off down the beach in equal measure. She sighed through her teeth and pressed a hand to her burning forehead. Again she found herself wishing for her father's steely resolve, Henry Lawson wouldn't have let anyone talk to him like that, much less a stranger with a shocking attitude. Why am I doing this? Emmy found herself thinking, as Miles' heaving finally subsided and he dragged himself off the metal panel onto the patch of green behind it. She realised watching his trembling, weakened form sag onto grass, just why - because for some stupid reason, she actually gave a damn what happened to him. Her thoughts went back to the beach, and she was reminded of just how vulnerable he had been in that moment, the way he had held onto her as if nothing else in the world mattered. Had anyone ever given a damn about what happened to him?

The question stuck in her mind, because there had been plenty of moments over the last three years where she had wondered that about herself. Sure, Claire was here now, watching her like she crazy for giving Miles' the time of day - granted, she had a point - but where were Claire's priorities? Undoubtedly they were on finding the other kids, but Emmy considered for a moment with a pang of sadness, that if the option was there, Claire would sooner swap her for any one of her other kids. She closed her eyes and rubbed at her sore shoulder with the pads of her fingers, trying to ignore the throbbing pain that emanated there. It was going to be agony the next morning, she could already tell. Every fibre of her being seemed to have evolved in to one big aching mess, all Emmy wanted to do was curl up on the grass and sleep for the next week, but before that could happen they had to locate her siblings. It was something she was dreading, knowing that the chances of finding them alive were slim, especially having already the scoured the beach and the trees for them that morning. Together her and Claire might stand a better chance of tracking them down -- she just wanted a moment alone with Miles' first.

“Claire?” Emmy said softly, turning to face her step-mother. “Can you give us a minute please? I’ll meet you down on the beach.” She gave her a small, grim smile and looked back at Miles. He seemed a little more coherent than before and was no longer quite such a ghastly shade of green. With her arms folded across her chest, Emmy exhaled slowly and walked over to him. "Hey," she said flatly, nudging his leg with the toe of her bloodied socks. Her lips formed a tight line as she searched for the right words. "If you ever scream at me like that again, it'll be the last time I do anything for you, ever." There was a coldness to her voice that was so far removed from her usual, sunny demeanour that it surprised even her. She levelled a look at him, her dark eyes burning. Emmy didn't have to tell him what that meant, she was fairly certain he'd grasped the fact that if he so much as rose his voice in her direction, she'd never come near him again. She swallowed and pinched her nose bridge, taking a moment to let her simmering mind cool.

Finally she looked at him again, sinking into a crouch, and studying his face. He definitely looked better, but a few hours of resting in the shade would almost certainly make him feel better. That and she had to take some time to search for her family. Claire was likely growing all the more frantic down on the beach and if Emmy didn't go down there soon, she could imagine her step-mother getting into all kinds of scrapes in an effort to track down her children. "I have to go," she said quietly, "there's no water left, but if I find any, I'll bring it to you later." Her knees shook as she stood again, her body aching with the effort. She was dreading the prospect of searching the beach, not knowing what she would find, who's pale, bloodied corpse she'd have to set eyes on. The thought left an emptiness in her chest, and she tried to steel herself as she stared down the beach to where Claire was waiting. Emmy took a step away, but stopped. Her shoulders rose and fell, and she glanced back at Miles' once again. There was a shine to her dark eyes, as she met his green ones. "Have you ever thought that maybe people just want to feel needed?" she asked, and then she was gone.

Claire was stood a little way down the beach, just in the shade of the palms. Emmy approached her, clutching her sore arm to her chest as she followed the line of the trees towards her. Her expression was one of quiet contemplation, and she only hoped that Claire wouldn't insist on asking her too many question over the course of their search on the beach. "I've covered this area here," Emmy told her, gesturing to the stretch of beach where she had awoken earlier that day. "And none of them were with the group by the trees. I think we should try the other side, down by the sea." The thought filled her with dread, but what choice did they have, they had to find the rest of the kids, if not for Emmy's sake, then definitely for Claire's. Inhaling a deep breath to steady herself, Emmy waited for Claire to take the lead, so they might begin their search of the beach.

((Yep! Sound good XD))

Claire knew her rights. Perhaps more so than most people due to her position as a lawyer. And yet, Claire had never felt so clueless, so lost and so helpless. She wasn't even sure what to feel. Was still contemplating whether or not it was all a nightmare. Sure the holiday was real. The crash was real. But was the here and now just some illusion her brain had made up to deal with the stress? Unlikely, but it wasn't unwelcomed. To her, her family always came first. All her decisions since Alyssa's birth had been made with her kids in consideration. And true she was not going to deny that at first she questioned Henry when he decided to bring Emmy into the family. But she only questioned him once with her children's best interests at heart. Because she knew that her children didn't get along. But never to Emmys face had she been unkind. Even when Emmy was challenging and stubborn, Claire did try to make it work. But Claire wasn't naive enough to not notice the gap between the Lawsons and Emmy. No matter how many times Henry and Claire both tried to close it, it seemed to never be filled. But despite that, Claire and Henry had tried to force the family together. If it wasn't for her insisting to go on a trip, if it wasn't for her to insist that their family was a big, merry family, this would no the have happened to them. She realised now. She had did this. Indirectly, yes. But her children and Henry were gone- most likely dead because of her decision to tighten the family ropes. They were fine before. Tense and provocative, but alive. And Claire had begun to realise that that was all that mattered. If only she didn't insist on a holiday.

Loosing a tight breath, Claire finally let go of the plate and stormed off to the beach at Emmys request. What the hell was she doing? Helping a stranger when her children were out there? She sat in the sand like a heavy weight and tightened her fists in the sand. She knew. Deep down she knew why she went off with Emmy to help that Miles. Why she wasted time doing so. She was ashamed to admit it but she knew.
Letting out a quiet wail, Claire looked at the sand with blurry vision as her tears threatened to unleash. The smell of the smoke from the the plane was still harsh. Everything was still rough.
The tang taste of blood could be tasted in her mouth and she realised she had been biting her lip. She was a coward.
Claire had only helped miles for her own selfishness. Maybe back home she would have helped him with the best of intentions, but not here. No, she only helped him to prolong the inevitable. If her kids, If her husband, if her family, were alive she would have seen them already. Should have seen them already. Once she began her search she feared she was on the hunt for dead bodies. And whilst her kids deserved better than a mother who gave up on them.... she wasn't given up on them. The odds were not in their favour. They most likely were on that plane that blew up. Claire let out another wail.

When she heard Emmys voice she quickly rubbed at her eyes and stood up trying her best to cover up her despair. But it was pretty obvious that she was crying. Briefly she wondered why Emmy spoke to the stranger alone, but that was an issue for another time. "Yeah. We'll... we'll check there." She said hoarsely, clearing her throat as she looked around the beach. Her eyes rested on the wreckage and she quickly averted her gaze with her throat feeling more constricted. Without looking at Emmy again or even considering the stranger Claire took the lead to find what would surely lead to more despair. But she couldn't avoid it any longer

For the first twenty minutes they walked the beach in awkward, stagnant silence. There was nothing Emmy could say to ease the pressing tension that hung in the air between them, and so she opted to keep her mouth shut. The sun was hot against her back, and sweat had her left the curls of her hair plastered against her neck. She longed to tie it up and out of her face, but she had nothing on her and stopping to rifle through people's toiletry bags didn't seem like the best use of their time. Her dress clung uncomfortably to the few curves she did have, but after peeling it away from her skin several times over, she'd finally lamented and just accepted that there was little she could do about it. Ahead of her, Claire marched on through the rubble like a woman on a mission. Emmy did her best to keep up, but her feet were blistered, bleeding and sore, which had every step feeling like she was stepping on broken glass. Wincing, she hobbled over the wreckage, trying to ignore the pain and focus on her surroundings.

They hadn't come across any bodies yet, and she didn't know whether to be pleased or disconcerted. It appeared many of them had been moved off the beach by their devastated family members, she just hoped that nobody had tried to be kind and do the same for her siblings. The prospect of someone else, touching them, moving them, it left a sick feeling in her stomach. She blew out a breath, and scanned the surrounding rubble. Somehow it looked worse than it had that morning, but that might have been down to the fact that most of the area had been stripped bare by other survivors. There was little left on the stretch of beach, save the broken pieces of the plane and some cut open suitcases that were void of any contents. She felt a slight pang of disappointment as she surveyed them, but then she shouldn't have been surprised, as the hours had ticked by people had only become more desperate. Emmy just had to believe that someone would be coming for them soon, she really didn't want to consider the alternative.

Pausing to catch her breath, she found her attention captured by a small pink suitcase. It wasn't quite as empty as the others, and Emmy figured that might have had something to do with the fact that most of the clothes looked like they belonged to a child, or at least a very slight teenager. I wonder... She crossed to it, and crouched down, tearing through the contents as quickly as she could manage, knowing Claire would likely leave her behind if she got too far back. "Aha!" she breathed, as her hands closed around a very narrow pair of sneakers. Emmy dragged them out, and flipped them over, searching for a size label. Please fit, please fit, please...yes! They were half a size smaller than she wore and would likely be a little snug, but she'd take that over the stepping on debris. Peeling off the now rancid socks, Emmy slipped her feet into the sneakers and laced them up with nimble fingers. She felt bad for wasting more time, but knew that with a proper pair of shoes on, she'd be of far more use in the search for her brothers and sister. Picking up the pace, she caught up to Claire and fell into step beside her. They had covered a fair amount of ground, but there was still a long trail of debris running parallel to the ocean, that was where their search would likely take them.

Emmy extended her good arm and pointed to it, recognising the area she was now stood in. "I think I woke up around here," she told Claire, recalling those few harrowing moments when she'd first come too on the sand. "Jonah and Tommy were sat a little way back from me, but if they were ejected from the plane like I was, we should find them here." Her dark gaze fell upon Claire's face and she tried her best to look reassuring. Emmy wasn't sure it was working, and so she gave her step-mother's arm a gentle squeeze, and started off walking down the rubble strewn sand. Her voice was still sore from all her earlier shouting, but if there was a chance that any of her siblings were trapped nearby, they'd need to be able to hear her. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she started to yell their names into the wind. "Tommy, Jonah, Alyssa!" One after the other, on repeat as her sneakers left a trail of footprints in the damp sand behind her.

Jonah was farther from the plane than most of the others who had been ejected from the plane. According to his national geographic plane article, you’re supposed to get 500 meters away from a plane after it crashes. That way if anything catches fire or breaks down, he wasn’t in danger. His entire body ached horrible and occasionally he had to stop what he was doing to dry heave into the sand. He had tried his best not to throw up since he knew his body needed all the water it had. After about 15 minutes of sitting, paralyzed by shock, Jonah’s mind had gone into survival mode. All those books and magazines and tv shows about surviving in the wild suddenly were important. All that information he had been stocking up in his brain was needed. Even though his body wanted nothing more than to surrender to the harsh sun, his mind forced him up onto his feet.

His first thought had not been about his survival though. It had been about his brother’s. Tommy had been sitting right next to him the entire flight. At first Jonah had resented being stuck with his younger brother for the entire flight. Being the second youngest, he was always tasked with taking care of his little brother. Now, his earlier annoyance melted into bone-shattering fear. He hadn’t seen Tommy when he had first regained consciousness on the beach. He refused to let himself believe that Tommy hadn’t gotten out of the wreck though. If he thought about his baby brother being injured or dead, he would panic and he didn’t have time to panic right now.
“Tommy!” His voice was crackly and rough. He licked his lips only to find hem bloody and cracked from the heat. At this rate he would be horribly dehydrated by the end of the day. All he wanted to do was find Tommy though and all those survival tips flew out the window as he called out for his brother again. If something happened to Tommy, Jonah would never be able to forgive himself. Licking his lips again he stumbled through the sand, shouting his brother’s name until it no longer meant anything. It was just a hopeless word he tossed out into the air, hoping to get an answer.

Jonah was about to give up when he heard it. A faint call that matched the desperation in his own voice. He stopped, tilting his head to the side as he tried to hear better. For second he thought he was going crazy. Perhaps he was more dehydrated than he thought, or shock was messing with his system. But the shouts only became clearer. He struggled to place the voice he was hearing until a name finally popped into his head.
“Emmy! Emmy!” He had never been so happy to see his step sister and probably never would be ever again. His breath caught in his throat as he spun to see two figures coming toward him.
“Mom?” He asked with a disbelieving expression.

((sorry it took so long, and hey Max!!))

Whilst her voice was rough, hoarse and dry, Claire could not bring herself to stay quiet for more than a few moments. She was anxious that maybe that one time that she didn't call out, her children had missed it. Her pace was relatively fast, though it was beginning to become monotonous, as the blistering sand and sun were unforgiving. And her and Emmy's hunt seemed futile. The longer she spent looking, the more anxious she became. One glance at Emmy and she saw that her thoughts were along the same line. Though no body was better then a dead body, right? No body meant that there was a chance of them being alive. She had to hold onto that, since she had nothing else to hold on to.
"ALYSSA, JONAH, TOMMY, HENRY!" She shrieked again after a few moments.

If they couldn't find them on the beach, maybe they were in the forest, or had left the beach completely. What if they had left the beach ages ago, since the forest clearly was the place to head to. A lot of what ifs, and no answers. "HENRY! TOMMY! JONAH! ALYSSA"
No body, was better than a dead body. Claire had to keep reminding herself that. She had no right to give up on them unless she absolutely knew they were gone. They were alive. They had to be. She would not take no for an answer.

If only she could reconsider the trip. She had chosen the dates, the flight, the destination. If only she didn't. Her children- Her children were out there. Lost and alone.
Claire almost didn't hear Emmy as she gestured to where she had woken up. In terms of seating arrangements, Tommy had been next to Jonah, and Alyssa should have been next to Emmy. Whilst Claire was with Henry. But that wasn't the case at all since they ended up being all split up. So Henry was at the back while Claire was closer to the kids. Her throat suddenly became tight and constricted.
She couldn't bring herself to reply to Emmy so just nodded. Claire had been ejected further down the beach where they had come from, Emmy was not too far ahead, so if Emmy's logic was sound, the children should be here.
Unless they were taken to the forest or in that explosion -

Shut UP! She screamed at herself. THEY ARE ALIVE
With a new fervor, Claire marched across the strip of beach and looked for her family.
She heard a call on the far right of her and her breathing hitched. It couldn't be- it couldn't
Whimpering, Claire bolted for Jonah and ran at him with speed and energy she somehow acquired with adrenaline. She crushed him into her shaking grip and wouldn't let him go. Tears streamed down her face as she cradled his head in her hands and wiped at his hair.
"Jon- Jonah" She managed to stutter out. "You're alive?" She knew it sounded like a question, but she needed to know it was not an illusion her mind conjured up to cope with her stress. Though he felt real. He smelled like him, he- was him.

Her relief and joy was not exaggerated though she knew it would be short lasting. At long last she had reunited with another child. Though she still waited on three more family members.
Emmy was not forgotten by any means, but at the moment Jonah was her immediate concern and Claire could not help but fuss over him.

Emmy frowned as she heard her name, wondering if maybe she was imaging things. Turning on the spot, she peered up the beach and froze as she caught sight of a small figure standing amongst the rubble. "Jonah?" she murmured, and then again, louder this time. "Jonah!" Could it be? Claire had already taken off running, racing over the sand in an effort to close the distance between herself and the young boy. It had to be him. Emmy's feet were torn to shreds, there was no way she was keeping up with Claire, but that didn't stop her from breaking into a jog that brought her within sight of them. The boy was covered from head to toe in dirt and ash, but his familiar face was unmistakable. Jonah. By some miracle they had found him. Emmy hung back as Claire enveloped the youngster in her arms, speaking to him in a voice too low for her to hear.

A sad smile crossed her face as she watched their joyous reunion. She longed to find her father, to have him wrap her up in his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay, but she knew in her heart that wasn't going to happen. Tears blurred her eyes and she looked away from Claire and Jonah, staring out across the sea, towards the distant horizon. She longed to go back to the day before the flight, just so she could tell him how much he meant to her. They had argued too much over the course of the holiday, and Emmy had said a lot of things that she didn't mean, they both had. She pressed her lips together to stop herself from dissolving into tears and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Emmy knew she had to keep it together, if not for her sake then for theirs. Claire and Jonah were still locked in a tight embrace, she couldn't begin to imagine what he would seen and just how it would affect him. At nineteen she considered herself old enough to at least acknowledge the depravity of the situation, for Jonah it must have all seemed like one horrible dream.

She still hadn't approached the two of them. Emmy knew what Jonah thought of her, and she felt it best to hang back to avoid upsetting him anymore. There was no single event that had caused him to dislike her so vehemently, but from the moment she'd appeared in the Lawson's lives he'd treated her as though she'd killed the family dog. Over the years she had just ignored the snide comments at the dinner table, or the items that went missing from her room, it didn't seem worth the effort of trying to fix something when Jonah had no intention of changing how things were on his side. She folded her arms across her chest and dug the toes of her newly acquired shoes into the sand, wondering if it would be best for the them to split up and search separately.

((Hi!))

Being stuck on his own had forced Jonah to stay relatively calm and controlled. He didn't have anyone to turn to, anyone to comfort him, so he had to be the responsible one. He was used to having to take care of his little brother but he had always known that his parents or Alyssa (or even Emmy) were close enough that he could always turn to them for help. He knew that he didn't have to be the one to make life changing decisions, because although he was old enough to take on responsibility, he was still the second youngest in the family. Lost and alone though, he had immediately gone into survival mode. He was responsible now not only for his own life, but also for his missing brother's. But when he saw Claire, suddenly he was no longer the one who had to be responsible. He didn't have to be the adult in the situation because his mother was here to take that position. The relief he felt rushing through his body was better than anything he had ever felt before. They were still trapped on an island, but he was no longer alone and that's what mattered most.

Despite the desperate protest of his legs and feet, he sprinted towards his mother, flying over hot sand and metal debris in an effort to get to her. Stumbling over a heap of cloth, Jonah was so intent on getting to Claire that he hardly thought about what he had just tripped on. An absentminded glance back showed him more than he wanted to see though. A young girl, probably about the age of Tommy lay motionless in the sand. Around her was halo of blood, way too much of it for her to still be alive. Bile rose sharpily in his throat and he had to force it down again. He met his mother in a tangle of sweat and limbs. He could hardly breath she was holding him so tightly, but he didn't mind. Over the past few years he had started to dislike it when his mother hugged him, especially in front of his friends. But now he never wanted her to let go.

A few tears finally dripped down his ash covered face, drawing clean marks down his cheeks. He could feel his mother's breath come in wracking hiccups as began to cry. Finally drawing away, Jonah gave her another tight squeeze before carefully wiping her tears away.
"Stop crying mom. It dehydrates you." He murmured to her, sounding both caring and firm at the same time. He may not be the adult in the situation anymore, but he still knew enough survival tips to write his own book.

Finally he spared a glance at Emmy, taking in her ragged appearance with a once-over look. He would never admit it, but he was glad to see her. He may hate her, but he would never want her to die. Giving her a solemn nod he turned back to his mother, slipping his hand into hers.
"Where's Dad? And Alyssa?" He paused and his eyes welled up with tears again despite how hard he tried to push them down.
"I can't find Tommy... He was right next to me..." He trailed off with a desperate look. He was supposed to have taken care of his brother and he had failed.

The reunion was bittersweet and upon Jonah's request Claire had tried to stop the tears. God she had missed him. He knew a bunch of random facts that had made her laugh in the past, but now she had never been more prouder. She didn't want to let him go, in fear that she would lose him again so whilst she no longer hugged him she still had an arm wrapped around him tightly.

When Jonah asked where everybody else was, Claire had to hold back another wave of tears. "I don't know honey. I don't know." Never had Claire felt so powerless and helpless. She had no idea what to do except for looking for them longer. She had completely entrenched the idea that her family was dead. She had assumed that before, but here was Jonah. Alive and breathing. She had to believe that so was everyone else.

When he mentioned Tommy though, the tears came out again. God, Jonah was so brave and so strong. He did not deserve to carry that guilt. "It's alright. We are going to find him. Okay? We are going to find him." She stood up straight, still clutching Jonah by her side as she sought out Emmy.
She found her off to the side as though she was keeping her distance from Jonah, with her arms wrapped around herself.
"Emmy! He's Alive!" She yelled to her still not believing it. "We have to find the others. They have to be close. They have to."

With newfound purpose, Claire continued walking along the beach with her arm around Jonah's shoulders. "Where- where did you land?" She asked him.

Emmy gave Jonah a weak smile as he dipped his head on a nod. That tended to be the extent of their interactions, but as he and Claire got to their feet again, she drew neared and enveloped him in an awkward hug with her one good arm. "Hey kid," she said softly. The embrace was rigid and uncomfortable, and she expected him to squirm out of it sooner than he did. But she was glad she'd made the effort, if only because it relinquished some of the guilt she felt for not finding him earlier in the day.

They both recoiled after a few short seconds, and Emmy moved to Claire's other side as she piped up with a question about where Jonah had landed. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she stared along the beach front, several bodies lay at unnatural angles along the sand, but Emmy didn't find herself as panicked as she thought. She had seen more than her fair share of awful sights that day, but it seemed pertinent to keep Jonah away from such things.

"I'll go ahead," she suggested to Claire. Her dark eyes telling her step-mother everything she needed to know. "If I find anything I'll call back to you." It probably wasn't a good idea to split up again, but if Jonah had to witness anymore of the horrors that lay around them, the kid might never sleep again. What they really needed was some medical assistance, and more people to help them.

She scanned the beach. There were few survivors dotted about in the sand, but most of those were taken up with their own searches for family members and resources. A feeling of dread settled in her stomach as she considered how scarce those resources were likely to become if they had to spend more than a few days here. She loosed a breath, and trying not to think too hard on what she was about to face, Emmy started walking up the beach.

Jonah knew that the odds weren't good. Statistically, more people surivived airplane crashes than was generally assumed, but still, the odds weren't great. So far, his mother and Emmy were both alive which meant 3 out of the 6 family members had made it out of the crash. To have all of them get out of this alive would be a miracle. In particular, Tommy was the most vulnerable of the siblings. He was still small and much more physically fragile. He didn't know what to do in emergencies and could never survive on his own without an adult to take care of him. His entire life he'd had people constantly looking out for him. He was the baby of the family and his angelic features only served to heighten everyone's need to protect him. Alyssa took care of him like he was the world's most important person, and while Jonah perhaps was less manically protective, he would destroy anyone who ever tried to hurt his younger brother. Even Emmy, who had been given the cold shoulder by most of the family still seemed to love little Thomas. But he knew that no amount of sheer love could save a little boy from a plane crash. Regardless of his logical brain telling him that Claire hadn't found his other family members, his emotional mind held out hope that maybe she had. Maybe they were just resting in the trees or trying to find a way out of here.
"Oh." His shoulders sagged visibly when she admitted that she had no idea where any of the other Lawson family was. He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood, trying to force himself not to cry.

Looking back up at his mom, he finally noticed how ragged she looked. Not only was she covered in dirt and dust from the crash, but her eyes looked exhausted. She was obviously (and understandably) under a ton of stress. She didn't need another crying kid on her hands, he had to be tough for her. That way they could find Tommy and Alyssa and their dad faster. Jonah loved his mom, he really did, but his father had a special place in his heart. Jonah wanted to be like Henry in every way possible, which was why he hated Emmy so much. She was the product of a mistake with another woman (in Jonah's opinion), and his father wasn't supposed to make mistakes. For his father to not make it out of this crash was unthinkable. He couldn't imagine life without him.

He let himself be pulled into a stiff hug from Emmy. He had only ever hugged her once before. When she had first moved into the house Claire had practically forced him to hug her, and he had never wanted to repeat that ever again. But this was extenuating circumstances, so he let himself be pulled into it. Even though it was Emmy, it still felt good because hugs meant safety, and safety was a very limited resource at the moment. That being said, he wiggled his way out of her grasp after a few seconds.

Jonah took a deep breath, letting his mother wrap an arm around his shoulder.
"Over there. By that tree way over there." He pointed down the beach to where he had regained conciousness. He had made sure to know exactly where he had landed just in case he had to retrace his steps.
"Emmy. We need to find water." He said softly, his throat too scratched up and dry to speak normally. Jonah knew that they wouldn't be getting anywhere without water.
"On average people can last three days without water. Feeling tired and sluggish by the end of day one and complete organ failure by day three. Vomiting and sweating speeds this proccess." He recited in a monotone voice.

The bodies got to her. They really did. The stench, the blood, the faces, the injuries. It all triggered her. But Claire could not avoid making eye contact with every single body she passed. Every time she came across a small child, a girl or an elder man her breathing hitched as she saw Tommy's, Alyssa's and Henry's faces. But she made sure to keep her reactions internal so that Jonah didn't look as well. But she felt that it was already too late, he as well was seeking out his family. Claire knew she was probably pale, but couldn't care less. She had Jonah. Her son was with her.
She felt slightly at ease with him by her side. His comments brought her back to her task and her search. But what he was saying... They needed water. Terribly so. Her throat was scratched and dry, even worse than before because of her screaming. But he was right. Lack of water would be detrimental sooner or later. She had a canteen in her backpack but that was empty. After she found her family she needed to find her backpack if they wanted to survive the island. Resources would be scarce. People would go crazy for anything. They needed to get themselves ordered before nothing separated the survivors from animals.

For a second it felt good to be thinking rationally again. Like herself. But she knew that it was because Jonah was with her, and it was her attempt at calming herself down. She needed to distract herself, especially because another small body came into view.
Not Tommy. Not Tommy.

The site to which Jonah had pointed seemed empty and Jonah would have already scoured that area for his brother. There was nowhere really to go but forwards. Claire brought Jonah closer to her and wrapped her arm comfortingly around his waist. "We are going to find them, and then we will find water." Out of all her kids Jonah was probably the most independent and he always seemed to have what she had once thought as useless knowledge in his head, but now she was beginning to value all the facts he had rammed up there. They were going to need that.

When Emmy had told Claire that she would go ahead, Claire didn't fight her. Emmy knew what she was doing, but Claire was still reluctant to leave her. They shouldn't separate, but one glance at Emmy's face and Claire understood her meaning. She was sparing Jonah and herself from the bodies. Gratitude lined Claire's features, and a thank you was forming on her face but the words never left her lips. When Emmy went ahead, Claire still didn't let go of Jonah. She hoped that her kids and Henry were safe. As long as they were safe she was content.

A few hours later...

Emmy sat with her eyes on the campfire, staring at the dancing flames and the floating ash as it spiralled towards the darkening sky. There was a heavy silence around the fire-pit, Claire and Jonah were sitting across from her and they were joined by a few other survivors, but no one said a word. They hadn't found her other siblings. The three of them had searched for Alyssa and Tommy until the light had started to fade, until their bodies ached and their hands bled, and until any hope of finding them had eventually faded. She was too exhausted to continue, the sun had left her sore and itchy, the red glow of a burn clearly noticeable across her back and nose. Her shoulder was in a right state, every movement had become excruciating and it had been an effort just to walk her way up to the campfire.

She had no idea who had built the fire, one of the others she assumed, judging from the one guy who kept piling branches on to it in an effort to keep it going. The temperature had dropped considerably, and dusk was drawing nearer. Looking out towards the sea she could see the sun slowly making it's way towards the horizon, it would be night time soon, and their chances of finding Alyssa and Tommy would only grow slimmer. She blew out a breath and returned her attention to the flames. There had been talk of putting together a search party to look for other survivors, but eventually someone - the captain she thought from the way he was dressed - had told them they ought to wait till morning, they would only put more people at risk if they went trooping off into the dark. Emmy was inclined to agree with him, she didn't want to think it, but if they hadn't found anyone else alive by now, the chances were they weren't going to.

Her eyes burned as she found herself thinking of her father. She knew the chances of seeing again were next to none, there was no possible way he could have survived. A breeze carried in from the sea, ruffling her hair and raising gooseflesh on her arms. When the sun finally set it was going to be freezing, and she had very little clothing to combat that. She had found her rucksack, but everything save her sweater and her camera was beyond saving. Both were still in the bag along with a few other things she'd managed to salvage. The sweater would definitely help, but unless she found a blanket or a pair of pants, she was going to freeze that night.

The silence around the fire had become deafening and as it only stretched on, Emmy found herself becoming agitated. Why was no one talking? She hated the quiet, it only made her dwell on the things she didn't want to think about, her father, her siblings...Miles. Her gaze drifted up the beach to the clearing where they'd left him. She hadn't see him since, what if something had happened? Worry gnawed away at her stomach as stared at the fire. Finally it became too much to bear, and rising to her feet, she turned to Jonah and Claire, and said, "I'm going for a walk, I won't be too long. I just...I need some air." She slung her bag over her shoulder and offered them a grim, parting smile before heading off down the beach.

It was meant to be a nice little family trip. That was all it was meant to be, yet it had all gone wrong. It started going wrong when the ticket machine stopped working. Then came the crackly voice over the intercom saying brace for emergency landing. And now it was the crappiest holiday ever.

She held tightly to her two brothers hands while her father argued with the lady at the ticket counter. A man behind them muttered some choice words because of the delay and Alyssa didn’t try to hide the venomous glare she shot at him. How would he like it if this stupid airline was trying to split him apart form his siblings. Split him from the one thing he cared about most in this world. Alyssa clenched her brothers hands even tighter, praying that luck would be in favor and that the damn ticket machines would start working. Yet, once again, luck wasn’t on her side. With the determined flight attendant, the moody man behind them and the pressure to get on the flight before it left her, father caved and agreed to let them sit separately.
“No! No I refuse.” Alyssa had screamed as the decision was made. She no longer cared what type of a ruckus she kicked up. This holiday had barely started and she was already over it.
“Dad make them keep us together, or make them Reebok us for another flight. I won’t let us be split up!” She screeched pulling her brother into her side, glaring daggers at anyone who dared challenge her, including the man behind her.
Yet all her father did was smile, wrap an arm around her shoulders, place a kiss on her forehead and say it would be ok and that they would be reunited with each other soon enough. Then he handed her the fateful tickets making sitting her five whole rows away from her siblings. With Emmy in between.
The smoke had filled the cabin seconds later. The only thing that stopped her going to her brothers was the fact that she couldn’t. She had shrieked their names, had thrashed her in her seat. She’d pulled against the seat belt to the point the leather had dug in a drawn blood, daring gravity to keep her in her seat, because there was no way she was leaving her brothers as the world became a nightmare around them. She screamed for them but as the plane veered down, as the smoke in the cabin became thick and dark choking out any sound she made, Alyssa realized her fight was futile. They plane would crash, and they would all die.

Alyssa woke with a scream. She sat bolt upright and instantly regretted it. Pain flared through her whole body making white spots dance across her vision. Yet her pain wasn’t the first thing on her mind. Judging from the fact she was sitting up, she was ok. First things first, she needed to find her brothers. She glanced around, taking in the situation around her. She was sitting among dense underbrush, hunks of twisted metal littered all around her. A large whole in the canopy above, likely made from the crashing metal, made it seem as if she was sitting in a halo of light. As if she was a goddess and this was her forest. It would have been quite a pretty photo if the reason she was here wasn’t because of a plane crash. Miraculously, she had remained mostly unharmed. Apart from the pain in every limp and a few shallow cuts littering her creamy skin but she had dealt with worse before. The next thing she noticed was that she was alone. Completely and utterly alone. Through the trees blocked most of her view there was no sign of any other human presence but her own. In fact it looked like no human touched this part of land before. She was in the middle of nowhere and completely alone having no idea where salvation was. Worst yet she had no idea where her family was.

Her first instinct was to find her family, or namely her brothers. Climbing to her feet, Alyssa took a few shaky steps through the underbrush.
“Thomas, Jonah!” She screamed, eyes scanning the trees. She began walking in circles around her landing point, unwilling to walk to far in case she got even more lost. “Tommy! Jonah!” Slowly her circles widened as she began venturing further into the woods. Five rows ahead. She was a mere sitting five rows ahead and this is what happened.
She began lifting scraps of metal in hopes she wouldn't find a mangled body of one of her brothers underneath. “Thomas! Jonah!” She tried again hoping and praying that they would call back, or give some sign they were alive and well. She began digging under piles of leaves in case they got buried but still had no luck. Her desperation grew as she ventured further and further from her landing point still seeing no sign of them, or any other human for that matter. Birds called overhead, as if reply to her own cries, and she could have sworn she heard some growling coming from the twisted expanse of trees next to her, but other then that there were no signs of life whatsoever.
“THOMAS! JONAH!” She hollered, desperation creeping into her voice as hot tears trailed down her cheeks. She refused to think it, refused to even believe for a second that her brothers may…may be... dead.

“THOMAS! JONAH!” She cried, her voice wavering as tears choked her. That was when she heard a faint whisper in the breeze.
“Lyssa.”
Alyssa froze. Her whole family sometimes called her Lyss but only one person called her Lyssa and that was because he couldn’t pronounce the first A of her name. Thomas.
“Thomas! Thomas, baby keep calling out so I can find you!” Alyssa called back, charging haphazardly through the bush, almost tripping over tree roots in her desperate sprint to her brother. If he called out again his voice was lost on the wind, being too weak and faint to make it to his sisters ears. Yet Alyssa didn’t stop. She barreled through the trees until she came to a slope. She skidded to a stop just before tumbling over the edge, her breath coming in labored gasps from her mad dash. There was a track torn through the underbrush leading down. Only a small track, but one unmistakably made by a human. Her blood ran like ice through her veins as realization dawned on her. Thomas must have tumbled all the way down here upon landing. He was probably hurt, or worse, on the verge of death. Without a second thought Alyssa started down the slope. In her haste she ended up tumbling down half it herself but once again managing to come out mostly unscathed. The first thing she saw as she reached the bottom was her baby brother. He looked so small compared to the world around him. Half buried in the undergrowth, his round baby face smeared with soot and dirt and drying blood. In his hand he clutched his little dog teddy she got him on his first birthday. He never let that thing go. What troubled her was she could only see him from the hips up his legs being trapped under a large hunk of metal, keeping him pinned in place. He looked so sad, so defeated as he lay there, yet his eyes lit up as soon as he saw her.
“Lyssa,” he said, his voice a mere whisper. “I knew you would find me, you are good at hide and seek.”
“Oh Thomas,” Alyssa whispered dropping down at his side.
Hot tears trickled down her face as she collected her little brother into her arms. He winced as she moved him onto her lap, letting out a slight whimper of pain.
“Shh, shh it’s ok baby,” she said, gently brushing a few messy strands of hair from his forehead.
He was alive. Though Jonah was still missing her baby brother was alive and that was all that counted right now.

Alyssa just held her little brother for a moment, clutching him close, her body rocking slightly from side to side in an effort to calm him. He snuggled up against her, pressing his tiny face against her side, his fists clutching her tightly. For a few minutes it was the peaceful. Two siblings finally reunited. Such a sweet moment if it wasn’t for Thomas being trapped under a hunk of metal. With a sickly, all too familiar tag of blood on the air. Alyssa knew she had to do something about it, Thomas wasn’t stable as he seemed to be, but part of her hoped that if she stayed here then everything would go away. That everything would go back to being as it was, before the crash, before her parents decided to go on this dumb family holiday. Yet it was a childish fantasy. She had to get her brother out of here and back to some from of civilization where he could get help. But that meant freeing him first.
“Ok baby, i’m going to have to free your legs now ok.” She whispered as his big brown eyes turned to meet hers. “It might hurt, but you will be fine. You will be a big brave boy, can you do that for me?”
Fear and pain that should never been seen in the eyes of someone so young, danced in his soft eyes but he nodded. “I’ll be super duper brave!” He said giving her a wide grin the completely dismissed any fear he had shown before.
Alyssa grinned, her heart melting at his innocence. He really had no idea what any of this meant. It was all just a big adventure for him. Shuffling down to where the metal pinned his legs, Alyssa surveyed the damage. She knew that lifting the metal could be bad if it had cut off his circulation. Yet she couldn’t just leave him here, she couldn’t. So that was a risk she was going to have to take.
“Get ready Tommy,” she said, hooking her fingers under the metal, trying to ignore the blood that coated her tips. “In three, two, one.” She pulled up with all her strength the metal lifting only a fraction above his legs but enough so he would maneuver it off him.
“Owei, owei, owei.” Thomas whimpered as she tossed the hunk aside with a loud clang.
With the metal removed she could see the extent of his wounds. A large gash ran right down his left thigh, blood soaking through his torn pant leg and dripping down to mix with the foliage. Dirt was smeared around it and she swore she could see some leaves stuck to the blood. It looked bad. Really, really bad.
“That bad?” Thomas asked, some of the innocence gone from his voice as he read her face. He was always good at that, seeing what she felt.
“I’m going to have to bandage it. This will hurt worse but the pain will get better after,” Alyssa said gently, slipping her jacket off to reveal her forearms and the amount of tally marks she cut on them. It wasn’t often she went short sleeve now, she could almost forget things when in long sleeves. But this was not her main worry now. No, she was far from home and her dramas and what she needed to worry about was her bleeding brother. She needed to save him.

Cutting her jacket into shreds, Alyssa chose the cleanest bits and pushed them against the wound.
“Owei!” Thomas yelped as she pushed the split skin together.
“Sorry baby.” Alyssa whispered as she selected a few more stripes and began tying them up. She kept repeating sorry over and over again as Thomas whimpered in pain then slowly fell silent. The only thing that let her know she hadn’t killed him was the slow rise and fall of his little chest. Her chest lurched, tears flowing in streams down her cheeks. Her hands were covered in a thick layer of her baby brothers blood and the wound really looked no better even as she tied off the last strip or bandage. She crawled to his side, smoothing a strand of hair away from his sweaty head. His eyes fluttered restlessly under his closed lids and she could only imagine the nightmare he was experiencing. She placed a soft kiss to his forehead, not caring about the dirt smeared across it.
“I’ll keep you safe Tommy, I promise.” she whispered before wrapping her arms under his frail frame and picking up, clutching him close to her chest. She placed the little dog teddy on his chest before picking a direction and walking. They had to find some form of civilization. If not, she feared Thomas might not make it.

She had been walking for hours now and Thomas's light body was starting to feel far less light. Everything ached and a chilly wind was beginning to pick up. The sun was now dipping over the horizon, turning the sky a wash of colours. Like the oil pastels she used to draw with sometimes. It was stunning. So much so it was freaky. How could a place feeling so alien have such a beautiful normal thing in it? Though she knew they had to be on the same planet still, well she assumed they were, nothing made sense anymore. She was sure she was delusional, that dehydration was kicking in from all her walking a sweating and none of taking in water. Thomas had gone completely limp in her arms. His wound was mostly stable but he went from waking every quarter hour, to ever half hour, to every hour to none at all. It had been at least three hours at her guess since she had seen his large chocolate eyes flicker open. Since she had felt his frail body move in her grasp. No all there was was the soft rise and fall of his chest, the only sign he hadn’t slipped away in her walk. He was the only thing keeping her going. Once upon a time she had called out for Jonah or her other family members but had quickly given up. Thomas was all she had now.

A few steps later she tripped. Her legs caught on a tree root and being to weak to stop it she tumbled to the ground. Thomas flew from her arms and hit the ground hard.
“Thomas!” She shrieked clambering unsteadily to her feet only to flop down next to him. “Thomas, hey, hey baby look at me,” she said frantically, tapping his cheek as if that would wake him. When it did nothing she whimpered. A destroyed sound that made her eyes burn but there was no tears left to cry. She curled up next to him, wrapping her body around his small one. It was a feeble attempt to shelter him from the wind with her own body.
“I’m sorry Tommy. I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered, knowing this was all her fault. If she had been more adamant about then not switching flights to sit together. If she had just refused to go on this trip in the first place then none of this would be happening. If Emmy hadn’t showed up, everything would be fine! They wouldn’t have even needed to go on this ‘family holiday.’ With those venomous thoughts Alyssa was pulled down into sleep. Her tired body finally caving into the darkness with Thomas wrapped securely in her arms.

She had no idea how long it had been before she woke in a cold sweet, a bitter wind stinging her exposed skin. Her side was uncomfortable from sleeping on the hard ground. She rolled over, staring at the clear starry sky. Once again it was stunning. So beautiful yet so dark. She was once told that when someone died they became a star in the sky. That was once a peaceful thought but it become far less peaceful at the thought of all that death. Of all the dead that would be joining those stars now. How any one of her family could be one of them. She was about to roll over, to go back to sleep when something caught her eye. It was a patch in the sky that had no starts. Or had flickering stars or… She paused, noticing the slight orange hue coming from over top the trees a few miles away. It wasn’t a starless patch of sky. It was smoke. And smoke meant people. Alyssa shot to her feet staring right at the smoke as if it would disappear if she stopped looking at it. She scooped Thomas up in her arms again, ignoring their painful protest as she forced them to work. She felt more sticky blood drip onto her hands. Her jerking movements must have reopened his leg wound. But that was ok now, they were so close to people, people who would help.

Despite the pain in her leg Alyssa sprinted through the woods, heading directly towards the smoke. It had to be someone, had to be people and not just a random forest fire. She refused to believe it was anything but people. Thomas bounced in her grip, and she knew his wound must be leaving a blood trail. But she didn’t care. She just needed to get to the people. Moments later, with her legs on fire, Alyssa burst through the trees looking nothing far from a mad woman. Her clothes were tattered and torn. Scratches covered every inch of her skin in bleeding gashes and her hands were basically mittens of her brothers blood. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair was sticking up at all angles with leaves and sticks poking out of it. Yet her eyes scanned the collection of eye turned to her. And the first thing she saw was…
“Mum?” Her voice was all crackly and broken but her carried over the silence her appearance had created. “Mum!” she stumbled forward, the limp, unconscious Thomas still clutched in her wary hands.

((So so very sorry it's so long. I had a lot to write to catch up with everything. My next replies will be nowhere near as long. I hope it's ok))

((woohoo you put me to shame xwift! How long did you spend on that??!? This reunion is going to be intense lol ))

Claire didn't put up much effort when Emmy told her she was leaving. She didn't really think much of anything at all. The smoke from the fire was suffocating and the flames bellowing but Claire didn't care anymore. It was too much. Though she found that she couldn't move away from the flames either. She felt so numb, so lost and so dampened, as though all her thoughts and feelings were flushed out. Claire had not left Jonah's side, and still had him practically stuck to her side. But even his presence kept on reminding her of her failure. Her son. Her five year old baby boy was still out there. Her daughter. Her husband. And it was all her fault. Her boy was most likely all alone, and Claire knew that no one could survive the cold night like this. She didn't even think she was going to and she had a fire. She would have searched the beach all night, but were forced to stop as darkness fell. The captain had found their little trio, and had brought them to a camp he had set up with survivors that were found. Someone had set up a fire- and Claire found that she didn't practically care who did it.
After Claire had an outburst at the captain for crashing the plane, which he denied all fault to, Claire had taken Jonah's hand and began to set off again in the darkness for her children.
This time more than one person pushed her back to camp. We will send a search party in the morning The captain had said. Claire wanted to yell back that that was cowardice. That the morning will only bring dead bodies, that they needed to go now. But she didn't want Jonah to be more stressed out than he was. She had him to think about.
She had reluctantly sat down by the fire and decided to stay. It was the most hardest decision she had ever made, but she couldn't risk Jonah's life in the dark and cold. Hers, yes, but not his. And she wouldn't leave him at the camp by himself. She didn't trust the captain. Not one bit. And Emmy. She had planned to take Emmy with her too, but frankly Claire had even lost sight of what was happening to her. She was just so so tired. Emmy would be back though, Claire knew she would.

The flickering flames passed from red to yellow and orange and rose high up into the sky. Claire felt her eyes get teary but wiped at it before Jonah noticed. He was old enough to understand what was happening, but she didn't want him to see his mum in despair.

Mum? Claire stiffened and stopped breathing. Slowly, so very slowly, she turned away from the fire and followed the crackly and hoarse voice. Claire stood up on wobbly legs. Her hands were shaking. They were shaking, as she ran to her daughter that was covered in blood. And-And a prone figure was limp in her daughter's arms. No not just any figure... Tommy. TOMMY!
He couldn't be dead, he couldn't. Her baby. Claire reached Alyssa and wrapped her arms around her daughter not caring about the blood- Tommy's blood- Alyssa's blood- as she carefully carried Tommy's weight onto her. Claire wanted to cry, but needed to take charge. Henry wasn't here to do it. She needed to do it. She could cry later. Tommy! Her Tommy was injured. In a steel clear voice Claire didn't know she was capable of in this state, Claire yelled out to anyone. "HELP! MY TOMMY. HELP. I NEED- I NEED A MEDIC." She took a look at Tommy's innocent face as she silently whispered out, "please." She carried him towards the fire and called out to Jonah, "Help your sister." She couldn't right now check on Alyssa, and she didn't want her kids to see Tommy's state. More than ever Claire wondered why she let Emmy go, she needed her help. Even Emmy had a soft spot for Tommy. Claire clutched Tommy in her arms and tried to figure out what was wrong, as survivors frantically ran around to find someone that could help.
"Baby, don't die please. Mummy's here." Claire whispered to him softly.

((So, do we rp the medic? Or is there an actual medic we can call in??))

(view spoiler)[ I mean.... we could traumatize poor Miles even more and make him do it cause he is partly medic. Or I do have my Rafian boy who's an actual like apprentice in doctoring or whatever it's called so we could drag him in. Also Ella and Emma do you think we could start a little war between Miles, Emmy and Alyssa? Cause I think Emmy and Alyssa will have a fun little relationship where they go from being full on enemies to like, actually sisters. But I feel as soon as Emmy shows up Alyssa will snap cause she needs someone to blame and that will be Emmy. But, with Miles being slightly protective over Emmy I feel he wouldn’t take to kindly to Alyssa’s insults. Then once Alyssa realizes that Miles was the one behind them that wasn’t the nicest she will snap at him to? It could be a little fun to play around with. (hide spoiler)]

Alyssa all but flopped into her mother's arms, being careful to hold Tommy so he didn’t get squished between them. Tears flowed in torrents down her face as she buried her head in her mum's chest. Clinging to her in fear that if she let go she would disappear, as if she was the lifeline while Alyssa drowned in an endless sea. Her breath came in hiccups as wave after wave of fatigue, sorrow, pain and shock overwhelmed her. All she could do was clutch her mum closer, trying to block out the pain of the world. She breathed in her mums sent, finding comfort in the one familiar thing. Sure it was clouded with smoke, salt and blood but she could still make out the perfume her mum put on that morning. That morning. Such a funny thing to say when the events of her normal life felt so far away. Yet she didn’t care about all that, didn’t care anymore how she looked and acted around people. All she wanted was her family and now she had found two of the missing pieces.

Alyssa gratefully let her mum take Thomas from her arms. She didn’t realize how much she was struggling to hold him until the weight was lifted. She just watched as her mum cradled the small, frail body of her brother. Though seeing him like this hurt her, shattered her heart into tiny pieces, Alyssa knew it must be doing worse to her mum. Her mum, who brought Thomas into the world and now might have to watch him leave it. Yet she refused to believe that would happen. He was around capable people now that would take care of him. Alyssa just about crumbled upon the release of weight, upon realizing she wasn’t dreaming and this fire, these people were real. She must have been a sniveling mess, standing there shaking like a left in the wind, covered in enough blood that she didn’t know whose was whose anymore. At her mum's commanding screams, Alyssa almost broke, her legs refusing to hold her weight any longer. Part of her didn't believe that any of this. But as her mum took control a sense of refile washed over her. She had done it, she had gotten her brother somewhere safe. He would be ok now, he would get help. Yet the only thing that kept her standing was what he mum said next.
Help your sister
Her sharp gaze scanned the crowd of frantic survivors. Your sister. Your sister. Hope filled her as she realised what those words meant. Just as her eyes landed on the young boy standing not to far from her. She had just found the third piece to her broken puzzle.

“Jonah!” She cried running towards him with her last remaining strength.
She practically fell down beside him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him tightly against her chest.
‘You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive,” she repeated over and over again almost like a chant.
She held him close, burying her head in his hair placing a kiss on his forehead. She knew she might possibly be crushing him but nothing could make her let go of her little brother right now. Not even the end of the world.

While Alyssa clung to her brother, all the racket was slowly pulling Thomas from unconsciousness.
“Lyssa?” He questioned, his voice still soft as he twisted in the grip of the person holding him.
However he quickly realised this wasn’t Lyssa. Lyssa smelt like forest and dirt when this person smelt more like salt and smoke. He cracked his eyes open, just a sliver and looked up to the person holding him. It took a moment for his groggy brain to register what was going on but once he did nothing was stopping him.
“MUMMY!” He chirped with all the usual energy he had. As if he was simply greeting her as she came home and not after a near death experience.
In a blur of movement he shot up, latching his arms around his mums neck like a vice.
“Oo, owie,” he whimpered as his movements caused strain on his leg.
It would be the truth to say Thomas hadn’t fully comprehended the seriousness of the situation. All he knew was that he was back with his mum which made him happy. He hadn’t quite yet realized what his sister had gone through to get him here. Nor what damaging his little body had gone through.
“Owie, mummy why does it hurt so much?” He whimpered, his grip on her slacking slightly as the pain finally registered. Little tears damped his lashes and he snuggled up against his mum, hiding his head in her neck.
“You will make things better though, you will cause you always do.” His voice was muffled slightly by his mum’s top but his plea, his confusion, was obvious. He didn’t know what was going on, he didn’t understand, and it was scaring him.

Jonah hadn’t mourned the fact that Emmy had decided to leave, but he hadn’t been happy either. Usually he would have celebrated making Emmy stalk off like that, but he knew that his mother loved her. She would rather have all her children within sight. He was therefore surprised when Claire let her walk off without much argument. It was a bit satisfying to know that despite their relationship, his mother would still stay with him rather than go with Emmy. Part of Jonah’s hatred for his step sister was due to a deep insecurity about his own relationship with his parents. Jonah knew that he was quirky and strange. He knew he wasn’t social in the way his parents probably wanted him to be and that he spent too much time alone in his room on his computer. He had always wondered if maybe one day his parents would come to love Emmy more than him. Being the middle child wasn’t easy. Tommy was the sweetheart, Alyssa was the responsible one and Jonah... Jonah was just there. Emmy had only added another person for Jonah to feel the need to compete with in his family. Still he didn’t want her to get hurt and watched with worried eyes as she strode off down the beach.

Tucking himself into his mother’s side, he watched the flames with half closed eyes. He was exhausted now that the adrenaline had run off. He blinked back the weight of exhaustion, dust covered eyelashes feeling even heavier than normal. A cold breeze blew across the trees and sent sand scuttling down the beaches. He shivered slightly and dug himself deeper into Claire’s warm presence. He had only just fallen into a kind of light sleep when his mother pulled him up, screaming at the captain about wanting to find her children.

Jonah wanted nothing more than to find Tommy and Alyssa and his father but he knew that the other survivors were right. Who knew what was out there, they could go in the morning.
“Mom. We won’t be any help to them dead.” Jonah said softly. He knew his words were blunt but they were true. He had never been one to shy away from the truth.

Unable to fall asleep again he had untangled himself from his mother’s side and had ventured to the edge of the tree line to find some more wood for the fire and some palm leaves to sit on. Usually exposure killed people before anything else did. Protection from the naturally cold ground was important. Plus it would just be more comfortable. He was still looking around when he heard a horrifying yell. Unwilling to drop all the wood he had gathered he ran back to the fire, eyes shining with apprehension.

“Alyssa?” He couldn’t think properly, just drank in the sight before him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had decided that he might never see his sister again. He might never hug her or play catch with her. But to see her now, he realized just how tense he had been. It felt like something had been broken inside of him, letting some of the stress flow out of him into the ground. Before he could say anything he dropped everything he had been carrying and was crushed into his sister’s arms. He couldn’t breath but he didn’t care. He felt like his ribs were being squished, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that his big sister was here.
“Alyssa...” He choked out into her shoulder. Despite having already promised himself not to cry he couldn’t help but sob as he clutched her shoulders. His skinny limbs shook helplessly as he cried.

Finally he stopped crying enough to realize that Alyssa wasn’t the only one to come back. She had brought someone with her.
“Is that Tommy?” He jumped up and took a few steps toward his little brother. It didn’t take him long to realize something was wrong. Hearing his brother cry out made his heart clench a little bit. Running up he took a long look at his baby brother, taking in the blood. Jonah had managed seeing dead bodies all day, mangled limbs flung out in the bloody sand and he still hadn’t thrown up. But he couldn’t handle seeing his brother hurt.
“Hey there Tommy.” He said gently, trying for a weak smile. That’s all he got out before he pivoted away and threw up in the sand.

He knew that Tommy needed help and his mother more than either he or Alyssa did right now. Usually he would have gone running to mom if he threw up, but instead he just wiped his mouth and shakily got to his feet. He didn’t look at Tommy again. He couldn’t handle it. Instead he grabbed his water bottle and handed it to Alyssa.
“Here. You need water. And I’ll get some band aids to fix you.” He mumbled, eyes still misty with tears. There was a first aid kit but they were trying not to use the stuff up. Instead Jonah grabbed the bucket of sea water they were using to clean wounds and a bunch of bandages made from a ripped up shirt. He was really trying his best to be responsible here.

Sitting down in front of Alyssa he dunked one of the strips in the water to help wash her wounds to fight off infection.
“Emmy’s alive too.” He muttered softly, looking up with wide eyes.

Tommy's voice was the light at the end of the tunnel, but Claire could see that the light was dimming. He was so innocent. So pure. Tommy didn't deserve this. Claire struggled to bite back tears when he spoke. When he called for her she realised just how clueless he was to what had happened. God how long had he been injured and unconscious for?
"Don't worry baby. I'm going to make you better. I promise." She forced herself to say quietly to him in an attempt at soothing him. I promise. I promise. the words vibrated through her until it was all she was thinking. She had promised her son, so she must deliver. He couldn't be injured. Couldn't die.

Claire didn't have time to check up on her other kids but trusted Jonah and Alyssa to treat their injuries until she had time to check on them. Where the hell was a doctor? Someone? The captain even?
Claire tried to keep her face clear of worry as she looked at Tommy and gave him a genuine smile full of relief he was too young to fully comprehend. She had found him, so she will make sure he stays with her.
But where was a medic? God, she had no idea where to start on treating him.

Claire lay Tommy down on the sand next to the fire and tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear as her other hand reached his and gripped comfortingly. Her eyes then scanned the camp to see if anyone was coming. Her eyes met Jonah helping Alyssa out, and indeed a weight lifted off Claire's shoulders at the sight. One less thing to worry about. She needed Henry more than ever though.

Claire could not stand the wait for someone so even though she had no idea what to do, she set about treating him to the best of her ability until someone took over. She looked at his wound and almost vomited. His leg- god his leg!
Blood, and pus visible and he was pale. It was infected. She at least knew that. Claire took a deep breath before reaching for a bucket of salt water that someone- the Captain most likely- brought when they set camp to douse the fire if need be. Now Claire would use it.
Ripping off the bottom of her plain cotton shirt she doused it in the salt water before wringing it dry.
Praying that her son lived and didn't experience any more pain Claire gripped his hand comfortingly as she lightly wiped at his wound. She needed to disinfect it. But she knew it would be painful. And she had promised it wouldn't be. That she would make it better.
"Hold on Tommy. It's going to be alright. Mummy's here."

Alyssa held her little brother tightly, feeling his tears dampen her shirt but that didn’t matter to her.
He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive. She repeated to herself as if stopping would make him vanish.
Reluctantly she let him slip from her grasp as he noticed Tommy. Alyssa clenched Jonah's hand, not wanting him to see the awful sight of their baby brothers leg. Yet she let her hand slip as Jonah lurched forward, not even putting up a fight. She couldn’t keep her brothers separated, not as Thomas's pained cry threatened to tear both their hearts to shreds. She was lucky he had been unconscious most of their trek through the forest, there was no way she could live with hearing him this all the time. Taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart, Alyssa turned following after Jonah

Thomas curled up next to the fire, grateful for it’s warmth. He was starting to shiver but like always his mum had fixed that. She always fixed everything. He watched his mum, not fulling understanding why she looked so worried. Was something wrong? Yes his leg hurt but his mum always fixed his owchys so that would be ok. His attention was drawn away from his mum as someone else approached. He blinked a few times, his eyes not fully making out the figure before him. However he recognized the voice instantly.
“Jonah! You here too!” he chirped, his little hand reaching out to his big brother.
But his hand met empty air as Jonah turned away from him. Within seconds Alyssa had shifted between him and Jonah, placing a hand on his big brothers back.
“Jonah.” He tried again not understanding why his brother had turned away so quickly.
A frown turned his lips down as his brother didn’t seem to notice him.
“Jonah, Alyssa” he tried once more but his voice was no more than a whisper this time.
Little tears danced in his eyes, slowly rolling down his chubby cheeks, as both Alyssa and Jonah stood, walking away from him. What was wrong? Why was everyone acting so weird? He just wanted his siblings. So Thomas would go after them. He rolled over trying to stand so he could follow after his siblings. Instead of standing though his body crumpled in on itself, pain burning through his leg. He let out a howl as his leg refused to hold his weight and flopped his small body back down on the cold sand. Tears misted in his eyes as the pain brought them flowing down his cheeks in streams.
“Mummy,” he whimpered his voice barely audible now. “Mummy what’s going on? Why does everything hurt?”

Alyssa’s heart clenched as Thomas let out another howl of pain. This wasn’t fair. How could the world let her be fine yet have her baby brother suffering next to her when she could do nothing about it. All her life she had tried to protect her brothers, she had taken their pain and done everything she could to make things easy for them. She had seen the dark side of life and refused to let her brothers go there too. Yet the most innocent one, her own baby brother, had to be the one injured. Not her. Of course the world hadn’t picked her because it was clearly far more fun to make the youngest suffer. Yet she wouldn’t cry. Despite how her heart shattered she wouldn’t shed a tear. She refused to show weakness because she had to be strong for her family. Like always. So as Jonah turned, emptying his stomach onto the sand, Alyssa slipped between the two brothers, blocking Jonah's view of Thomas and his wound. She placed a comforting hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles in an effort to calm him. As he stood she followed, accepting the bottle of water past to her. She took a few little sips, letting the fresh water wash over her whole mouth and wet her dry lips, before handing the water bottle to her mum so Thomas could have some. She made sure to sit a fair way from her baby brother and her mum. Not so Thomas couldn’t see them, she knew Thomas would want them close, but for the sake of Jonah she wanted to keep them a decent way apart. She only hoped once the wound was cleaned it would look much better than it currently did. The only reason she hadn’t lost the contents of her stomach was because blood was nothing new to her. Though it hurt every time she looked at her brother she had to be strong, for her whole family, so she would be.

She let Jonah help with her wounds. Not because she couldn’t do it herself but more because she knew it would distracted Jonah's mind, and sometimes that was the best way to cope. The cuts on her back and chest she would deal with herself. Siblings or not some lines weren’t crossed so she would clean those at a later. Yet she let him wash the blood from her hands and clean the cuts that climbed up her arms and legs. She winced as the salt water ran into open flesh but swallowed back any cries of pain. She was lucky then most. Her wounds were mostly shallow, nothing more than superficial wounds that would heal themselves quite easily as long as there were no complications. So she couldn’t complain.

At the mention of Emmy Alyssa’s head shot up, her eyes scanning the crowd. Most, upon realising the severity of the situation, were running around following her mums commanding cries to get something for Thomas. It was chaos yet she saw nothing familiar to what Emmy looked like. Alyssa snarled, good. Emmy should be nowhere near her and her brother. Not a single part of her trusted Emmy or wanted her anywhere near here. In fact, if it wasn’t for Emmy then they wouldn’t even be on this stupid family holiday. If she hadn’t showed up they wouldn’t have gotten on this flight and wouldn’t have crashed onto this damn island. However her… dislike of Emmy didn’t stop the fact that six of her seven family members were alive. The only one missing now was dad.
“Jonah,” she started almost regretting it as soon as she spoke.
If their dad was here then he would already be by her side. There was no reason for him to be missing if he had already been found. Trying to keep her voice steady she asked again.
“Jonah, where’s dad?”

************

Rafian was in high demand. Once the survivors realised he was a trained doctor he was needed everywhere. He almost needed like five of him just to get everything done. However he hadn’t yet invented cloning therefore there was only one which meant that he had to prioritize. It wasn’t his favorite thing but he knew he had to. It went from picking those who were unconscious, to those who were bleeding without something in the wound, to broken or fractured bones to only superficial wounds. At this point most people who had severe wounds were dead or stable and there was nothing more he could do for them. So he was no spending his time patching up those who had minor wounds just to prevent infection. Most of his supplies or antibiotics and antiseptics were used up and he had resorted to salt water and ripped up clothes. Yet he had saved lives. He had watched so many die but he had also watched as so many became stable and seemed to remain that way. It was that point were he had to focus on the positive or he would be eaten alive by his own thoughts.

Rafian was slightly further down the beach when the drama started. He was helping a young girl patch up cut on her foot. He had warned people not to go walking around a night with bare feet because there was a lot of sharp shrapnel. However this one girl didn’t heed to his warning and was now learning the hard way why he said that. It wasn’t to bad and Rafian didn’t rub it in her face. He did smirk however as he tied a strip of cloth around it. It wasn’t bad at all but needed covering so no sand got in it there wasn’t enough antibiotics to deal with more possible infections. He had just finished wrapping her wound to prevent bleeding when he heard the yelling. At first Rafian couldn’t hear what they were saying, his mind focused on the job at hand. To be fair he had just assumed someone had found food or maybe a lost family member had turned up. Which yes it meant he should go see what was happening and check the possible new arrival over. However Rafian had to keep calm being if the doctor panicked everything would crumble so he was working through one thing at a time. It was only when the girl he was helping spoke saying “they are calling for a doctor” did Rafian fully realise the severity of the situation.

Giving instructions to be careful with her cut foot and come to him tomorrow so he could check on it, Rafian turned and headed back to the fire. He didn’t run, a gentle jog the was faster then walk but portrayed an almost unnatural sense of calmness. It didn’t take him long to get back to the main group of survivors and from there it didn’t take long to figure out the problem. There was a young girl of about 16 possibly 17 at his guess, standing in the middle of chaos covered in blood looking as if she had been living a nightmare. Then there was a young boy clenched in the hands of what he assumed was the mothers arms. Now, thought the girl was covered in blood, Rafian instantly pinpointed the boy to be the problem. There was no way that girl could have lost that much blood and be still standing meaning it must be a combination of hers and someone else's. Therefore pinpoint the young boy as the one needing most immediate attention. Despite the dread filling his stomach, no one would be ok with that much blood loss, especially not a young boy, Rafian still kept his sense of calmness as he walked into the chaos.

The mum had rested the boy down by the fire, a smart move on her part, and was beginning to get water and badges to clean the cut. He kept half an eye on the other girl but, what he guessed was a brother, was already helping clean her up, so she would be fine for the time being. His heart clenched slightly as the boy tried to move, letting out a pained wail as his leg refused to hold his weight. Kneeling down beside the boy Rafian took the mums shaking hand, stopping her movement as she tried to clean her sons wound.
“I’ll take it from here,” he said softly, his voice filled with more confidence then he had.
From once glance this boy didn’t look good. The wound was still bleeding and he could see the pus, or more correctly the dead white blood cells, leaking from the wound as well. The first thought that came to Rafians mind was infection.
“Ok Miss i’m going to need you help,” he said turning to the mother. “Can you put some of this salt water over the fire to heat it up for me? I’ll need to clean out the wound first before anything. If you could dig up some mostly clean bandages and rags to help bind and clean the wound that would be useful as well,” He said slowly, pronouncing every word clearly and softly hoping to help calm the frantic mother.

Jonah could hear his brother calling for him. He knew that he should turn around and comfort him. That was his job as an older brother. He knew that Alyssa was the protecter. She always had been. Ever since the moment he was born she had been the one watching over him. Of course his father and mother had always been there for him, but there were some things that he didn't want to tell them. So he went to Alyssa first. When he didn't understand his homework, she was always there to help. The first time a boy at school called him a nerd, she was the one to remind him that being smart isn't a bad thing and that they're just jealous. Jonah had learned from her how to be a good siblings. How to be supportive and kind while still being just the right amount of annoying. When Tommy had come along, he had gotten the double trouble. Alyssa was still the more protective of the two but Jonah had followed in her footsteps as a protective brother. Who wouldn't be if they had a brother like Tommy. So sweet and innocent, he was practically begging to be hurt by someone, even if his family had been doing everything they could since he was born to not let that happen. But even if he wanted to protect Tommy, Jonah couldn't force himself to turn around. Not now. Not when there was blood running down his little brother's leg like a red river.

He winced, eyes clenched shut as he heard his brother scream. He wished that he could drown out the noise. Although that might only make it worse, knowing his brother was hurting and ignoring him all the same. He could feel Alyssa's hands on his back, rubbing comforting circle's on his sandy shirt. The feeling immediately brought him back home. Whenever he had a bad day he would go straight home and disappear into his room. He would stay there for hours, reading or playing around on his computer and eventually Alyssa would always come in and check on him. She would sit next to him on his bed and draw circles on his back. She really did treat him like she was his mother. It was annoying sometimes but secretly he was always grateful for her care.

Jonah stuck his tongue out slightly, an unconcious habit he always did when he was concentrating. Bandaging Alyssa up was giving him a way out from the chaos of the world right now. He had read a plethora of first aid books in his short life, and carefully repeated instructions for scratches and wounds under his breath. He could manage a few scraps and cuts, the rest of it was a little bit too big for him to manage right now. He slipped into a sort of hypnotic hyper-focused state as he worked. It was like when he built model buildings or kites, he went into a state of focus where everything else fell away.

His peace of mind was broken though when Alyssa asked a question about the one person he had been avoiding thinking about. Their family was almost completely patched. Everyone was here, except for the one gaping hole in their family canvas that Jonah couldn't bear to think about. He had always had a special connection with his father. He looked up to him, practically worshiped the ground he walked on. It was horrible to even entertain the idea that he might be dead.
"I don't know." He replied, his voice cracking horribly.

Jonah turned away, trying to hide his fear and sadness from Alyssa. She didn't need to worry about him right now, she had enough on her plate. In doing so though, he noticed a man kneeling over Thomas by the fire. Immediately his thoughts spiralled down a dark path. Thomas was young and vulnerable and who knew what people would do if they were desperate. But quickly he realized his mistake when the man started giving his mother instructions. He was a doctor, or something like that. At least he seemed to know what he was doing. Jumping up, Jonah took his sister by the hand and dragged her with him over to Thomas and the man.
"Can we do anything to help? Please." He pleaded softly. He needed to do something. He looked down at Thomas who's cheeks were stained with tears and felt his heart clench tightly. He tried his best not to look at the wound on his leg or the blood, instead focusing on Tommy's angelic baby face. Suddenly he remembered something, a little present he had bought for Thomas at the airport. A little plastic figure of a pirate, ready for whatever adventure Thomas chose to send him on. Digging around in his pocket, he drew it out and smiled slightly.
"Hey Tommy, i've got something for you." He said, kneeling down and showing it to him. Maybe it would help distract his little brother from all the pain he was about to endure.

When that man had come Claire's first reaction had been to not let anyone touch her baby. She had glared him down not wanting an audience until she realised that he was a doctor- or someone that knew what he was doing. His calm manner made her slightly furious but she knew better than to have an outburst in front of Tommy- she couldn't do that to him. God he was so innocent. She was haunted by his eyes that were so wide when he asked why everything hurt. She was his mother and she should have been there. Should have wrapped her arms around him the whole flight and not let him obtain a single crash. There should not have been a flight to begin with. She should never had suggested a family holiday, and now because she did, Tommy was suffering. Her poor baby was in pain.

But Claire could not deny the slight feeling of releif that someone more experienced than her was able to take over, though it didn't help much. SHe couldn't sit down and watch. She had to do something. Anything to help her baby. She was grateful that the man tasked her with jobs to do and did them almost immediately without complaint. It gave her a sense of purpose.

Though at his request to get bandages she hesitated. She did not want to leave Tommy's side. Not for one bit. But she also needed to get the bandages. Claire looked around and was grateful that Jonah and ALyssa were already by Tommy's side. With a pleading look at both of them she whispered in their ear as she passed, "Stay together" and quickly left as she went on a hunt for bandages. Her movements were frantic and it all felt so surreal. The hunt the only thing keeping her sane at the moment. She still had a purpose.

After a few minutes, and frantic yelling at survivors- Claire was able to locate a few bandages. The captain was nowhere in sight and Claire wanted to scoff at that. Typical that he would hide when it got too hard to face his guilt. This was his fault as much as it was hers.
Claire made it back to Tommy and gave the doctor the bandages as she fell to her knees beside her son and clutched his hand comfortingly. If only Henri was here. He would make her feel so much better. Take most of the stress off her. She couldn't do this alone. Again Claire had to hold back her on wail at the thought on where her husband might be. And more immediately, where was Emmy?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Story continued at Survivor's Camp ━━━━━━━━━━━━━