A/N: I have absolutely no idea where this came from but here it is…enjoy?
Nathan's large brown eyes had been staring at his bedroom ceiling for at least three hours now and he had exposed to himself, an important reality: sleeping in his own bed just didn't feel the same anymore. A king-sized bed, home to a large soft mattress, covered in scented dark silk sheets and possibly the most consoling of comforters would be a dream to anyone, but not to him, not anymore. Without a stuffy, suffocating tent, the sound of six diverse snores and violent weather thrashing outside, nothing seemed right, and because of that, Nathan couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned from the second he lay his head on his feather filled pillow and without anyone else to cuddle up to – or scream-whisper at – Nathan knew it was going to be a long night. So when he gave up all hope of sleeping soundly, he turned from his side to his back and gazed up at the white ceiling, falling into a daydream – ignoring the fact that it was night – as flashbacks of his slumber-stealing adventure captivated his mind.
From the plane crash to the bitter arguments with his then arch-rival, now "close friend with benefits" Daley Marin, disagreements on their governing body and the odd near fatal misfortunes they had overcome, lying in the silent stillness of his own bedroom just didn't seem the same anymore. He had always craved adventure and had always told himself he was prepared for anything, but when that plane crashed him and his group on a deserted island, he was swiftly made face the fact that he simply wasn't the superhero he was always led to believe. He wasn't going to deny the fact that his extended vacation to the-paradise-from-hell had taken a toll on him both physically and mentally, nor was he going to refute that it had left him shaken but it had also made him stronger, it made him stand taller and above and beyond all, it had taught him the most valuable lesson: When life throws you lemons, don't throw them back 'cause you could make life angry.
He was always the first one sitting on his couch, Indian style, his popcorn bowl perched on his legs, whenever the Discovery Channel had one of their "I Lived Through A…" shows one and he was always the first one to say: Yeah and you call that a disaster?
Never one to match the undemanding mind of Barbie's living and breathing representative on earth, Taylor Hagan, but he had lived through a frickin' plane crash on a deserted frickin' island with a crazed frickin' pilot, a bunch of frickin' school kids – teens and one kid, but whatever – with his only food choices being coconuts, fruit, fish and frickin' boiled water so why weren't Discovery knocking on his door, damn it?! Not to mention the fact that he had nearly killed himself four times, but he'd blame that part on Eric.
Lying there now thinking about it, those real life disasters didn't really seem all that disastrous to him until he was made face the music himself. Boy, he prayed overtime to be forgiven for poking fun at that "Hot Girls in Scary Places" show. Because when push came to shove the last place he'd want to be was a haunted deserted island. He wouldn't have minded the hot girls though…
But it wasn't all negative being back home. For one, he had more of a variety food-wise. His Double-Mac had found itself back in his life – back into his stomach – and no bottle of Gatorade was safe. He had also found himself a group of friends for life, overlooking the fact that they fought ninety percent of the time and Jackson still terrified him; and although he and Melissa had grown apart, he and Daley had grown closer, much closer. It just sucked that Lex of all people had to be the one to walk in on them when they were getting it on. Lex will never look him square in the eye again.
The one thing that irked him though, was the fact that he was the only one who had this trouble, no not Lex walking in on him – all the time – but he was the only one of the entire group who couldn't seem to forget the craziness they had endured. It wasn't that he wasn't proud of how he and the others had learnt to deal and adapt to the laws of nature and its terror because he was. And it wasn't that he wasn't totally satisfied with how he had handled himself and his wellbeing on the island – forgetting the whole "nearly killing himself four times" part – because for the first time in his whole life, practically, he knew he couldn't have done a better job under the circumstances. There was just something in the back of his mind ticking away, letting him know that he wasn't to get completely comfy yet.
But just as he went to evaluate this ticking, the door opened to reveal his suit clad, briefcase carrying father, Donald McHugh. He walked into to his son's room, a smile identical to that of his beloved son's and pulled the dark curtains back to reveal sunshine, bright, blinding sunshine.
"Rise and shine, son," he began, walking to his son's bed excitedly; "today's your first day back at Hartwell. Excited?" Nathan forced a smile, wiping his eyes clear of the affects sleep depravation had left behind.
"Yeah dad, thrilled." His father nodded slowly, sitting himself down at the end of the bed. He rested his back against one of the wooded bed poles as he said "You don't sound thrilled. What's the matter?"
Nathan sat up and shrugged lazily. "I don't know, it's just, nothing seems the same anymore. I mean everyday I was out on that island all I ever wanted was to come home. But now that I'm home, I miss the island. Everyday there was a challenge, and not just something you could do one minute and forget the next, it was a case of life or death. Face up to the challenge and your prize is to live another day, refuse the challenge and you risk death. I miss having to actually pull my weight around instead of sitting at a dinner table awaiting my silver platter. On that island I missed the old me, the me that could never be satisfied. Back here I miss the me that I discovered on that island, the me that didn't complain about this and that, morning and evening. Now? I don't who I am or what I'm doing anymore. What's wrong with me dad? Everybody else has got back to their old selves, walking around like nothing happened. Dad, what's gone wrong?"
His father chuckled.
"I don't think anything has gone wrong, Nate. Look, you had a hard time out there, but there's no denying that you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. That's probably why you feel so confused now. See, when people are brought up in a certain way, with certain things or certain people it's so difficult to change your perspective on how you face a obstacle when you don't have those certain things around or those certain people around you to help you or to tell you what to do. But when you learn how to do things in a new way, you feel accomplished and you feel good about yourself. Then having to turn around and change that perspective again? It can get very confusing. You're probably just going through the motions of trying to figure out which perspective you like best and until you figure that out, you're going to feel out of place. See what I mean?"
Nathan nodded firmly.
"Yeah, I get it. But that doesn't explain why it's just me. I mean, everybody had to learn how to do things differently, but why am I the only one having problems adjusting now? I thought I'd be the first one to settle back into a routine."
Donald shook his head smiling.
"Nathan you've changed! The old you would have probably settled back into a routine again because that's what the old you thought right. But now, you're perspective is wider and more cautious. You've survived a plane crash and living on a deserted island for a month, you may not realise it but when stuff like that happens, you start to second guess things. You just need to stop analyzing what everybody else is doing or coping and just focus on you and how you're coping. You are a smart, talented and sensible young man, Nathan, but even the smart ones need time to think about certain things and situations."
"So that's why I didn't sleep last night?"
"Probably."
"But everything will fall into place eventually, right?"
"Of course. Nathan you've been through a lot and you can't expect to just have all that blow over in a few minor weeks. When situations that tense happen, it takes time to adjust again. You just need to stop worrying and start smiling again."
Nathan gave him a small smile. "Thanks dad."
"You're welcome, now, you'd best be getting up or you're going to be late. I'll drive you if you hurry."
On that way to school, Nathan thought about what his dad said and it was starting to make sense to him. Everything he had been through was something he had done before but in a different way. Okay not the plane crash or living on a deserted island but all the other things like looking for food: at home – grocery store with shelves, on island – grocery store with branches. He never looked at it that way before but it made sense to him. Everything posed a challenge and nothing was easy but if you fought hard enough you might cause a ripple in the rock pool. If you were to ask some survival specialist if a bunch of under twenty-one year olds could survive on an isolated island, living in the wrecked remains of a plane and relying on a ten year old brain-box they'd probably laugh in your face. But Nathan knew different. He was living breathing proof.
Pulling up outside of Hartwell, his dad grabbed his arm before he got out of the car and looked him deep in the eye. "Are you sure you're okay?" Nathan nodded taking a breath. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Besides, I have my cell-phone, so if anything goes wrong I'll give you a call." His dad smiled back.
"Okay, off you go" his dad said letting go of his arm. Nathan got out and watched as his dad drove away. He then turned to the building behind him and stood still, a smile creeping on his face.
Just another day in paradise.