Whenever anyone asked you what you feared most you always told them spiders; in hindsight you should have told them plane crashes. Having now been in a plane that crashed onto an island that seemed to be uninhabited and in the middle of nowhere, it was far more terrifying than whether there were any spiders lurking in the overgrowth.

You had been flying from Sydney to Los Angeles on your own to visit family who lived there but it didn't look like you were going to get there anytime soon. So much carnage lay before you and the blood and shrapnel made you sick to your stomach. Most people had been injured from something as small as a minor laceration to fatal wounds. You didn't have medical background, but you knew general first aid and, in this crisis, even the smallest amount of medical knowledge was needed.

Helping people away from the crash to a safe distance on the sand, you ignored the pain that shot through you and the blood that had soaked through your jeans. It was almost impossible to walk due to the pain, a significant limp coming to play, but you couldn't just sit there and do nothing.

You helped tie off the bleeding of a woman's arm with fabric from your own shirt before going to get up and help someone else. As you put your weight onto your bleeding leg, you fell to the ground, screaming in pain, leaving you lying in the sand.

A man leant down beside you, helping you role onto your back.

"You need to have that leg looked at," he stated.

"I'm fine, there are other people who need help," you groaned.

He shook his head. "I'm a doctor. In my professional opinion, you need someone to look at your leg as running around on it isn't helping anyone. There are enough people helping others here, and I need to help you."

"I'm fine," you smiled weakly.

"You can't help anyone with your leg like that. It could be broken and honestly the more you walk on it the worst it will be. Your heart is in the right place but you're just going to put others in danger if you keep going around like this," he explained softly. "Please let me help you."

You were reluctant, but you agreed to his offer not wanting to cause more problems than were already occurring.

"It's going to be okay," he said reassuringly. "Everything is going to be okay."

"I hope so," you sighed.

He smiled at you softly, rolling up your jeans to see the carnage that was once your leg.

"I'm Jack by the way," he smiled.

"Y/N."

~*~

Written by Charlotte.

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