The Island
Day 1
　

The world around him was a complete blur. He couldn't make out a single thing around him; only a palette of colours that of blue, green and brown. But after a while, his vision came into focus, and Tristan Hopewell realized that he was staring up at a blue sky filled with billowing smoke.

His brows furrowed in confusion as he stared up at the seemingly endless stream of smoke, wondering what had happened and where he was. The last thing he can remember was being on an airplane bound for Los Angeles. He had handed a woman his ticket, boarded the plane, took his seat, and started reading the book he packed with him. After a while, he asked the stewardess for some water, and then there was some turbulence. Then—OH, MY GOD!

Tristan's eyes widened tremendously as the realization of what happened hit him like a tidal wave. It felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him, his lungs screaming for air, even though he was fine. And it was that he began to panic.

The twenty-year-old sat up, turning his head to the left. If it was even possible, his eyes widened even more than they were before when he saw that only half of the airplane lay scattered in pieces across the shoreline of what he could only assume was an island of some kind, the other halves seemingly nowhere in sight.

His chest was heaving, panicked whimpers escaping his chapped lips, his head whipping around in every direction as he took everything in as quickly as he possibly could. He eventually spotted a blonde woman dressed in pink clothes, standing in the middle of the wreckage, her face contorted in fear and panic as her jaw was wide open. She was screaming, and yet, he couldn't hear her. In fact, he couldn't hear a damn thing.

Tristan reached up with his sand-covered hand to touch his left ear, and when he pulled his hand away, he only began to panic even more when he saw all the red. He was bleeding. He couldn't tell how badly he had been hurt, but he knew it had to be bad enough if he had suddenly become deaf.

His hand was trembling as he continued to stare at the blood coating his fingers. So many thoughts raced through his brain all at once, and it wasn't much later that he began to feel the pain of his injuries. There was a throbbing in his skull, pounding like a heartbeat, and his shoulder was sore.

Then, suddenly, someone was kneeling down in front of him, gently cupping his face in their hands. Tristan looked up, blinking away the harsh sunlight. It was a man. His head was shaved and he wore a suit. He noticed that his lips were moving, and as Tristan furrowed his eyebrows, everything suddenly came into focus and he could hear again.

But if he was being honest, a part of him wished that he was still deaf, for the world around him had suddenly become unbearably loud. So, so, so loud. All he could hear were the sounds of people screaming, mixed with the whirling from the crashed plane, and it did nothing to ease the panic within his heart.

"Hey, kid, can you hear me?" The man asked, pulling Tristan from his thoughts.

He looked at the man again, meeting his concerned gaze, and finally Tristan spoke. "W-We crashed," he managed to get out through panicked breaths.

"I know, kid," the man frowned. "You're in shock. But, it's going to be okay." He gently tilted Tristan's head to the side so that he could get a better look at the wound bleeding profusely down the side of his face. It was a deep cut, one that he knew would require some stitches. "What's your name?"

"Tristan," he replied.

"Well, Tristan, my name's Jack," he introduced himself. "Good thing is you're okay. You've got a gash on your head, maybe a minor concussion. But you're otherwise fine from what I can tell."

"It hurts," Tristan complained, reaching up to touch his head as it continued to throb relentlessly, but Jack quickly pushed his hand away with a concerned scowl.

"No, no, try not to touch it," Jack scolded lightly. "You'll probably have a headache for a couple days. But you'll be okay, Tristan." He ripped off a piece of his suit jacket at the bottom and quickly balled it up, gently pressing it against Tristan's bleeding forehead. "I'm gonna need you to hold that in place for me, okay?"

Tristan nodded, reaching up to hold the material against the side of his head.

"There you go," Jack praised, giving the kid a reassuring smile that would hopefully have a calming effect. Just by looking at the kid, he knew that he was in shock, and Jack couldn't risk the kid getting any worse. He needed him to remain calm. "Keep pressure on it. I-I know you're scared, but I gotta go help some others, alright? Just, uh . . . stay put, kid. I'll be right back."

Even though Tristan wanted nothing more than to reach out and beg Jack to stay with him, he knew that he couldn't be selfish. It was obvious that the man had some kind of medical knowledge, and other people were hurt, some probably worse than he was, and Jack needed to help them while they still had a fighting chance.

So, he nodded his head, watching as Jack got up and ran off to help someone else.

Tristan remained there for a while, sitting in the sand. He was unsure for how long, really. But he eventually mustered up the strength to try walking. He climbed to his feet, swaying only slightly when the world spun for a fleeting moment, yet kept pressure on his wound the entire time as he looked around at all the passengers who had been on Oceanic Flight 815.

There were a surprising number of people considering how much of the plane was even on the shoreline to begin with. Tristan couldn't get an exact count, but there were lots of them. Men and women, varying from all ages. He could have sworn he even spotted a pregnant lady, but he wasn't certain. The smoke was getting thicker by the minute.

His eyes skimmed over the area again, and that's when he saw her. A pretty girl with long, blonde hair, who didn't look much older than himself. She was standing there, looking up at the whirling propeller to her right, and when she turned, that's when Tristan saw how badly she was hurt.

There was a piece of shrapnel sticking out of the back of her left shoulder, her black t-shirt torn and undoubtedly drenched in blood. Tristan wasn't an expert, but he was smart enough to know that it didn't look so good. And yet, she wasn't even screaming or looked slightly worried about it. Did she even know that she was hurt? Was she even in any pain?

When the propeller began whirling even louder than before, making an alarming noise that caused several heads to turn and look up at it, Tristan's eyes widened tremendously. It was going to explode at any moment, but the girl didn't even seem to notice. She was still just standing there, moving around in a circle as she took in her surroundings. It was obvious that she was in shock.

Tristan cursed under his breath and quickly stuffed the piece of clothing Jack had given him into his back pocket, and then he ran straight towards the girl, weaving in and out of debris from the plane. When he finally reached her, Tristan secured a hand around her wrist and pulled her into a run with him.

"Come on, we have to move!" Tristan shouted, although he wasn't sure she could even hear him right now. Still, the girl followed him as he ran away, stumbling slightly on her feet, which caused him to wrap an arm around her waist so that she wouldn't fall.

The whirling got louder and louder, and then suddenly, it exploded. Tristan pulled the girl down into the sand with him when he heard it happen, doing his best to shield her with his body. And when it was finally over, he lifted his head and looked at the beach. There was even more debris, fire and smoke than before, but it didn't look like anybody had been harmed during the explosion.

Tristan spotted Jack kneeling in the sand some ways away. He was with a pregnant woman and a large man with dark, curly hair. The three of them seemed to be okay. He let out a breath of relief, grateful Jack hadn't been harmed in the explosion. They needed him, and his medical training. He was someone they already relied so much on.

A moment passed before Tristan turned, looking at the girl beside him. She had lifted her head to see what happened and was staring wordlessly at the plane. 

"Hey," Tristan said, reaching out to touch her arm. "Are you alright?"

The girl turned to look at him, blue meeting brown, and she hesitated for a moment before nodding her head. "I-I think so."

She still didn't seem to notice that there was a piece of shrapnel sticking out of her left shoulder, and Tristan decided then that he wasn't going to tell her. The girl was calm right now, and the last thing he needed was for her to panic and try pulling it out before Jack was able to help her.

Tristan turned to look at Jack, noticing that he was still with the pregnant woman and curly-haired man. He called out to him while frantically waving his arms, "Jack, over here! Quick!"

The man turned when he heard his name, and he immediately spoke to the curly-haired man before running over to them. Jack slowed to a stop in front of them, quickly realizing why Tristan had called for help. The blonde girl with him was hurt, a piece of shrapnel from the plane protruding from the back of her left shoulder. But as she looked up at him, he realized the girl wasn't even scared. It was like she didn't even know she was hurt. She was obviously in shock.

Jack knelt down beside the girl, peering down at the wound to get a better look at it. This, of course, scared the girl, as she wondered what it was that he was looking at. "Hey, hey," he said when she abruptly turned to look at him with widening eyes. "It's alright. You're hurt, and I'm only trying to help. Now, I'm gonna need you to hold real still for me, okay? Can you do that?"

The girl turned her head slightly, peering over her left shoulder out of the corner of her eye and reaching out behind her when she heard him say that she was hurt, her eyes widening when she realized just how right the man was.

"It's going to be okay," Jack said reassuringly. "Just try to remain calm for me."

"O-Okay," the girl whimpered. Her lip began to tremble and her breathing was labored despite having been told to remain calm, causing Tristan to frown.

He instantly reached out and grabbed her hand, causing the girl to look up at him. Blue met brown once again, and Tristan did his best to give her a reassuring smile. "Hey, it's okay. Jack knows what he's doing. My name's Tristan," he introduced himself. "What's your name?"

"Gwyneira," the girl replied, another whimper escaping her lips. She winced when Jack began to feel around the wound, causing her to squeeze Tristan's hand even tighter. "B-But most people just . . . just call me Gwyn."

He squeezed back, brushing his thumb across her knuckles reassuringly. "That's a pretty name," he complimented with a smile.

"Gwyn," Jack said, causing the girl to turn and look at him abruptly. "I'll be right back. I need to see if I can find some needle and thread so that I can stitch this up."

Gwyn shakily nodded in response.

Jack looked over at Tristan, lowering his voice as he squeezed the boy's shoulder. "Stay with her. Try to keep her calm by talking to her. That helps."

Tristan nodded, watching as Jack ran off. He then turned back to Gwyn and offered her a brief smile. "So, uh, where do you come from? Are you from Australia, or were you just visiting?"

"Just visiting," Gwyn replied. She was holding onto his hand as if her life depended on it, and he didn't seem to mind. "I'm . . . I'm from Boston. But I-I go to school in Los Angeles."

"Me, too," Tristan said. "Well, the school bit, anyway. I'm not from Boston, but one of my moms is. I actually come from this small town in Maine, but I doubt you've ever heard of it before." He saw her wince in pain and he frowned in concern, quickly coming up with another question to distract her. "So, what are you studying?"

"Archaeology at UCLA," Gwyn replied.

Tristan raised a brow, impressed. He hadn't been expecting her to say that she was studying in such an advanced field. "So, you're like Indiana Jones?"

Gwyn managed a small laugh through the pain. "I guess you could say that."

They turned their heads as Jack reappeared beside them. He was carrying a small bottle of liquor, a white dress, a purple tank top, a seat belt from one of the passenger chairs, and some needle and thread. He dropped everything into the sand and got to work, quickly ripping off the bottom half of the dress and folding it up a few times to make a bandage, then he looked Gwyn in the eye.

"I'm really sorry, Gwyn, but this is going to hurt," Jack warned her, apologetically. "I'll try to move quickly, but I'll need to make sure there's no shrapnel still inside once I pull it out, okay?"

Gwyn wordlessly nodded. There were tears in her eyes and she could feel her entire body trembling. She was scared, and they knew it. They could see it.

"Alright," Jack said. "I'm going to need you to take off your shirt and put this on." He handed her the tank top that he managed to find in one of the many suitcases scattered across the beach. "I'll have better access to the wound this way. Then, I need you to lay down on this." He laid the other half of the white dress on the sand in front of her. "I'll be able to work faster if you're laying down on your stomach."

Gwyn nodded. She attempted to remove her shirt on her own, but struggled to do so as a surge of pain shot down her left arm, the skin around the shrapnel tugging awkwardly. A whimper escaped her lips. Jack quickly reached out, helping the girl push her right arm through the sleeve before he gently eased the shirt up and over the piece of shrapnel in her left shoulder until they had finally managed to get it off completely.

Tristan awkwardly cleared his throat and averted his eyes the entire time, wanting to give her some privacy, and he only looked at Gwyn again once he was certain that Jack had helped her put the tank top on so that she was more comfortable around them.

"Alright, lay down," Jack instructed, moving to prepare the needle and thread now that he had better access to the wound with her t-shirt out of the way. "But be careful. I don't want the shrapnel to move."

Gwyn nodded her head and cautiously laid down on the other half of the white dress Jack had laid out for her in the sand. Tristan reached out, grabbing her right arm and helping her down so she wouldn't further harm herself. Once she was on her stomach, Gwyn allowed Jack to position her left arm however he wanted so that it wouldn't be in his way.

"Just keep your eyes on Tristan," Jack said. "Focus on him. Everything will be okay."

Gwyn did as the man instructed, turning her head to the right where Tristan was sitting beside her in the sand, his hand still secured in her own. She could feel her pulse skyrocket, thumping loudly in her ears as she prepared herself for the pain she would inevitably face.

"Alright, here we go," Jack said, breathing out a sigh as he, too, prepared himself. He reached out and wrapped his hand around the piece of shrapnel protruding from the back of the girl's shoulder, and then he carefully pulled it out.

The blonde let out a cry, squeezing Tristan's hand so tight that her knuckles turned white. The boy spoke reassuring words, but none of them seemed to ease the girl's pain as she began crying, a few tears streaming down her pale, freckled cheeks.

Jack moved as quickly as he could after discarding the shrapnel. He grabbed the makeshift bandage and pressed it against her shoulder as blood began to steadily pour out from the wound. With one hand, he twisted the cap off the liquor bottle, and then moved the bandage, pouring some over the opened wound to cleanse it.

The liquor stung, causing Gwyn to cry out again. She squeezed her eyes shut as more tears fell. Tristan frowned, unsure of how to help her right now. All he could do was hold onto her hand and talk to her, but he felt as though that just wasn't enough.

Once the wound had been cleaned out and Jack was certain that there weren't any fragments of shrapnel left inside, he poured just a little more liquor over the wound, before getting to work. He grabbed the needle and began sewing up the wound as carefully as he could, not wanting to cause Gwyn any unnecessary pain.

Meanwhile, the blonde continued to cry out, and even began thrashing around as the pain became too much to bear without any medication to ease her suffering.

"Gwyn, I need you to stay still for me," Jack told her, pausing his movements so he wouldn't harm her any further. "I know it hurts, but you can't move right now. I'm sorry. I really am."

Tristan reached out with the hand that wasn't holding onto Gwyn's, gently placing it on the girl's uninjured shoulder to help keep her steady. Jack looked up and gave him an appreciative nod, and once the blonde settled again, he was able to get back to work.

After a while, Jack finally managed to get the wound closed with minimal difficulty. He sat back on his knees when he was finished, taking in his work. It wasn't exactly how he would have liked to do it, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. The only thing left to do now was watch for any signs of infection over the next few days. But that was something Jack knew he couldn't do alone. He looked up at Tristan, an idea growing in his mind.

"Tristan, can I talk to you for a minute?" Jack asked, nudging his head in the opposite direction of Gwyn.

The boy looked at him with a mixture of concern and confusion, before nodding his head. "Uh, yeah, sure."

"Gwyn, we'll be right back," Jack said. "You can sit up if you'd like, but make sure you rest easy and don't strain yourself too much. I don't want you tearing those stitches."

Tristan squeezed Gwyn's hand one last time before climbing to his feet and following Jack. They walked far enough away that Gwyn was out of earshot. That concerned Tristan. He wondered what had gone wrong with Gwyn that Jack didn't want her to hear.

"Is she going to be okay?" Tristan asked worriedly.

Jack offered him a reassuring smile. "She's gonna be fine."

His shoulders sagged in relief. "Then why did you call this Council of Elrond?"

"Why did—what?" Jack was confused.

"The Council of Elrond," Tristan elaborated. "You know, the secret meeting held at Rivendell in The Lord of Rings?" When Jack still looked just as confused as before, the twenty-year-old sighed and shook his head. "You've seriously never heard of it?"

"No, I can't say that I have," Jack responded. "Anyway, I'm going to need your help. There's other people that still need me, and their injuries could be even worse than Gwyn's. Which means that I might not be able to check up on her as frequently as I'd like to. So, I'm going to need you to keep a close eye on her. If she has a fever . . . if she's in a lot of pain . . . if anything seems wrong with her, you come and find me. Do you think you can do that for me, Tristan?"

"Yeah, of course," he nodded. "I'll stay with her, make sure she's okay."

Jack reached out, patting him on the shoulder with an appreciative smile. "Thanks, kid." He then pointed toward Tristan's forehead. "Now, make sure you cover that up again. I'll be back to stitch you up, too. I just have to make sure nobody else needs my help first."

Having been so consumed with making sure that Gwyn was okay, Tristan had completely forgotten that he was hurt. He reached up, touching his forehead with a wince. "Oh, right . . ." He grabbed the piece of clothing Jack had given him earlier and quickly pressed it against his forehead.

"Oh, and I grabbed a seat belt from the plane," Jack suddenly remembered. "Make sure you wrap it across her body as a sling. Gwyn will need it so she doesn't strain that shoulder too much."

Tristan nodded as he watched Jack walk away. He then turned around and began making his way back over to Gwyn. She was sitting up now, nursing her left arm against her chest so that she wouldn't strain herself too much. The blonde perked up as he neared, clearly eager to know what Jack had told him.

"Everything's okay," Tristan said as he plopped down beside her. "Jack was just letting me know that he has to go make sure everyone else is okay before he fixes me up like he did with you."

It was then Gwyn seemed to notice that he was hurt. She didn't realize it earlier in the middle of her hysterics, but she did now. Her blue eyes were locked on his forehead and then slowly trailed down the side of his face, frowning at the sight of blood. "Are you alright?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," Tristan said reassuringly. "I'm fine. Just got a bit of a headache is all. But Jack says I'm going to be okay, and I trust him."

Gwyn looked out at the passengers and the debris scattered across the shoreline, and a part of her couldn't help but feel grateful despite the situation they had all found themselves in, as she watched Jack pull someone out from underneath pieces of shrapnel. "We're lucky to have him," she said. "Jack, I mean. Who knows what would have happened to me . . . to you . . . to everyone else out there that is hurt if he wasn't here with us right now."

"Yeah," Tristan agreed, his skin visibly paling at the thought of Jack—someone who was obviously medically trained—not being with them right now. Would Gwyn have died? Would he? Would all of the injured? He swallowed the lump that had quickly formed in his throat. "We really got lucky."

　
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Although the passengers of Oceanic Flight 815 were in shock over what had happened to them, there were many people who recovered quicker than most and got to work helping everyone.

Jack and a man named Boone—who wasn't a doctor like Jack was, but at least knew CPR from his experience as a lifeguard—worked together caring for all the wounded. Sayid and Charlie gathered wood and got several fires going, the former claiming that the fires needed to be large enough so that people could see them and they would get rescued. Nolan and Michael, with the help of Michael's son, Walter, gathered all the luggage that they could find and piled it up nearby. Tristan and  Hurley searched for food and water in the wreckage, walking around the beach and making sure that everyone got something to eat for the night.

Meanwhile, Gwyn sat with a woman named Claire around one of the burning fires, the two young women being told by Jack not to strain themselves. Gwyn made sure to keep a close eye on Claire as they sat together on a piece of debris, worrying not only about the Australian woman, but her unborn baby as well. She knew enough about pregnancies to know that the pains Claire had been experiencing throughout the day couldn't have been a good sign. She could only hope that they were Braxton Hicks contractions—something Gwyn knew that her adoptive mother went through when she was pregnant with her little brother—and nothing too serious.

After a while, Tristan and Hurley made their way over. The younger of the two plopped down beside Gwyn, and he handed her a tray of airplane food. "Hey," he said in greeting. "We, uh, found some food. Thought you might be hungry."

Gwyn offered him a small smile as she took the tray. In all honesty, she wasn't sure if she would be able to stomach any food right now, considering everything that's happened in the last several hours. But she knew that she had to eat, for this tray of food might be her very last meal for a while.

"Thank you," Gwyn said. She struggled for a moment to open the tray using only one hand, her left arm comfortably secured against her chest in a makeshift sling made from a seatbelt from the plane, which Tristan had helped her put on not long after Jack got done with her shoulder. But once she got it open, she began to eat little by little.

Tristan smiled back. "You're welcome."

The piece of debris they were sitting on suddenly creaked as Hurley walked over it and sat down on the other side of Claire, kindly offering her some food as well. "Hungry?"

"Yeah," Claire said with a smile. "Thanks."

"Anymore, uh . . . you know, baby stuff?" Hurley asked, worriedly glancing down at the woman's swollen stomach for a moment before meeting her eyes again.

Gwyn and Tristan looked at Claire expectedly, waiting for the woman's response. They silently hoped that she was feeling better than before, for she at least looked like she was.

Claire shook her head as she smoothed a hand over her stomach. "No," she replied. "I'm . . . I'm okay."

Hugo looked like he wanted to say more, but it was obvious that he didn't know what to say to the woman. So, he handed her a packet of utensils instead, and stood up, saying, "Well, hang in there."

"Yeah," Claire said, "you, too."

Hugo took a few steps away, before he paused and turned back around. He glanced down at the pregnant woman for a moment before grabbing a second tray of food and placing it in her lap, knowing she needed to keep herself well-fed for the sake of her baby. A warm smile appeared on her lips as Claire looked up at him gratefully, and a breathless chuckle escaped her lips.

The three of them began eating in silence, the only sound being their plastic forks scraping against the bottom of their food trays and Claire removing the foil off of her second tray of food as attempted to soothe her pregnancy cravings.

But, eventually, there was a strange noise that startled everyone on the beach.

It was like metal scraping against metal, echoing through the trees and somehow becoming even louder. Gwyn had jumped to her feet when she heard it, her wide eyes sweeping over the treeline as she tried to figure out what had made that sound.

"What was that?" Shannon asked, scared.

"That was weird, right?" Charlie asked no one in particular.

The young boy, Walter, looked up hopefully at his father. "Is that Vincent?" He scrambled to his feet and began walking towards the trees, but Michael was quick to stop him before he could get anywhere near them.

"It's not Vincent," Michael said grimly.

The noise suddenly got even louder, and Gwyn's eyes widened when she saw the trees begin to rapidly move, some of them even getting knocked over by a seemingly strong force. She knew that whatever was causing them to fall had to be massive.

"Did anybody see that?" Claire asked, walking up beside Gwyn. Her arms were wrapped around her stomach as she stared at the jungle.

"Uh-huh," Gwyn said, swallowing the lump that had quickly formed in her throat. Beside her, Tristan wordlessly nodded.

"Yeah," Hugo said in disbelief.

Everyone cautiously stepped a little closer, their eyes narrowing into focus as they tried to see what it was that continued to knock down more trees. Their hearts were pounding, fear seeping into their veins. It was obvious everyone was scared, for it was then that they realized they were not alone.

Something was on the island with them.

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a/n: Well, there you have it, the first chapter! I hope that you all enjoyed it as much as I did. It had a lot of fun writing it, especially the moments between Gwyn and Tristan. They're already so cute together, and I'm really going to enjoy developing their relationship not only with each other but the group as well overtime. Also, in case you missed some references, you can find a complete list of all the ones featured in this chapter below!

━ Gwyn is injured through the back of her left shoulder, much like Teresa had been when Henry first met her in episode 3x22 of Once Upon a Time.

━ Gwyn mentions that she is from Boston, a reference to where Emma Swan lives in season one of Once Upon a Time.

━ Tristan tells Gwyn that one of his moms are from Boston, a reference to the character Emma Swan in Once Upon a Time.

━ While speaking with Gwyn, Tristan mentions that one of his "moms" are from Boston, implying that he has more than one mother, much like Henry Mills in Once Upon a Time.

━ Tristan mentions he is from a small town in Maine that Gwyn has likely never heard of before. This is a reference to the fictional town of Storybrooke, Maine in Once Upon a Time.

━ Gwyn is studying archaeology in Los Angeles and plans to travel the world after she graduates. This is a reference to the exploratory nature of Teresa Holmes, and how she is always uncovering the past throughout The Soulmate Series.