Chapter Title: In Sickness and In Health
Disclaimer: I do not own Flight 29 Down. Nor do I own Melissa, or Jackson, or NathanDaleyTaylorEricLexAbbyJoryIan, or Captain Russell.
Summary: Sequel to That Little Bit. Three months after that story ended, it continues. If only Melissa had known the drama that would ensue, would she have done everything the same? JacksonxMelissa
A/N: This is a sequel to my other story, That Little Bit. Just a precursor, this story is rated T for some controversial topics that will come up within the next few chapters. Also, it doesn't exactly follow the series to a T, because it's a continuation of the other story, which deviated from the plotline of the series. In this story, the group didn't actually split up, so Abby is still living with them and Captain Russell, Ian, and Jory are still lost in the jungle.
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Melissa Wu crouched in the brush of the shallow island forest, examining twigs and sticks on the ground for firewood. It had rained the night before, just enough that their firewood had been soaked beyond possible use. She and Daley were sent into the woods, despite the fact that the woods had been soaked as well. They split up to cover ground, although they never went too far from each other or the camp.
It was still early morning. Melissa felt comfort in the soft shimmer of the sun's fresh new rays. She hadn't been feeling well that morning, and Jackson had reassured her that the fresh morning air would make her feel better. Now she wasn't so sure she agreed.
She had knelt and bent over, placating the nausea. For once, she wished she hadn't thought of Jackson. The thought of him made her feel excited and slightly nervous. She closed her eyes and held her forehead for a moment before finally vomiting on the ground. She wiped her mouth quickly as she heard Daley coming through the trees.
"Mel, are you okay? I thought I heard something over here." She noticed that Melissa had sprung up from the ground to face her. She kept the suspicion in her mind, but didn't address it.
Melissa regretted standing so quickly, but she didn't want Daley to see her being sick. It was nothing; she didn't need to bother everyone. "Nope, I'm just over here getting wood." She smiled good-naturedly, hoping that Daley didn't notice how unsteady she was.
"Okay, well if you need anything I'm over in that area." She gestured toward an area bathed in sun a bit farther away. Melissa looked away awkwardly.
"Um, Daley, do you mind if I go back? I think I've found enough dry wood to satisfy the fire for a while." Her stomach churned angrily and for a moment she was afraid she would be sick in front of Daley. She swallowed and returned her gaze to Daley.
"Yeah, sure. I'll pick up the rest of what I can find and meet you back there." Melissa nodded and waited until Daley had left before she brushed dirt over the vomit and picked up the wood, ready to head back.
Her mind was crammed with thought and worry. She didn't understand what she could possibly have that made her sick. She would have said it was something she had ingested, but she hadn't drunk any unsanitary water, nor had she even eaten breakfast that morning. Maybe she was just hungry. She could eat and rest a bit back at the camp. That was all she needed.
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Three months. It had been a bit over three months since they had crashed on the island. Jackson looked up at the sky as he sat against a tree, waiting for Nathan to finish making breakfast. At home, there was something peaceful about sitting amidst nature and looking at the sky. Here, it was just another passing thought. He stared into the blue and couldn't help wishing that he was at home, and that the only thing he had to worry about was relaxing and looking at the sky. Then again, with all the potential trouble he was in at home, maybe it was a good thing he wasn't there instead.
With these thoughts buzzing agitating circles around his mind, the only thing that could pull him from his reverie was Melissa stumbling out of the woods with a meager pile of dry wood, looking hot and bothered in her own way. She set the firewood on a tarp next to the fire pit, then turned toward the beach and sat in the sand, laying herself back unusually slowly until she was on her back, facing the sky with her eyes closed. Jackson observed her cautiously for a moment, but it was Nathan who stood up from what he was doing and started down toward the beach. He gestured for Taylor to take over preparing breakfast and proceeded down the beach toward Melissa.
"Hey," he said jovially, hopping to bring her a bit of the morning shine he was feeling. It didn't seem to be working. Her eyes didn't open and her arm remained strewn over her face. She was breathing deep, controlled breaths that made Nathan worry that something was wrong with her. "Mel?"
"Hi, Nathan," she muttered at him, keeping her face covered. He sat next to her and looked her over, trying to figure out what might be wrong.
"Something wrong?"
"Is breakfast ready yet? I'm really hungry."
"Mel, what's wrong?"
She removed her arm from her face and turned, squinting, to face Nathan. "I don't know," she said quietly. He could tell that, even though she didn't show it on her face, she was worried, as was he.
"Well… how do you feel? Is something hurt?"
She wanted desperately to just tell Nathan what had happened that morning, to let him and the others figure out what was wrong with her and fix it. But they already had plenty of daily work to do; they didn't need to be worrying about her woes, as well.
"It's nothing. I'm just feeling a bit under the weather. I had some bad dreams last night, and it made it hard to sleep. That's all."
Nathan looked down at her, not sure whether her story was believable or not. Then he shifted himself to get more comfortable and smiled sympathetically. "This whole place is a bad dream. All right, well," he started getting to his feet, looking down at her in the sand, "just get some rest. I'll send someone down here with food."
"Thanks, Nathan," she said wearily. He turned and started walking away, leaving her to put her arm back over her face and lie in the warmth of the rising sun, trying to quell the furious nausea still eating at her insides. She kept her mouth closed and took deep breaths, trying to make the nervousness go away.
A few minutes later, she heard someone crunching in the sand behind her head. Without looking up, she heard a voice. "Hey, Mel," Jackson said cautiously. Melissa looked over at him, and instantly regretted it. The sunlight was almost painful to look at, and it just made her head feel hotter and her insides churn. She rolled onto her side and Jackson knelt beside her. He looked toward the camp to make sure no one was watching him, then put his hand gently to Melissa's side. She sighed gratefully, but still felt uncomfortable and sick. Jackson had food in his other hand, but somehow it didn't seem so appealing to her. She looked around at the water, the sky, the sand, but nothing soothed her nerves, so she just covered her eyes again.
Jackson rubbed her side, although he was beginning to think better of it. He brought the hand to her forehead. She seemed to be warm, although she didn't have a fever. He sat fully in the sand and moved her hair away from her forehead, putting the platter of food in the sand. "What's wrong?"
"Jackson, I really don't know. I'm just hungry, that's all." She looked at him, hoping to add to the credibility of her next statement. She gazed at him in earnest. "I'm fine."
Jackson still looked uneasy, but took her hint and stood. "Okay, well, if you need anything…"
"You'll be in the same square foot of island the rest of us are stuck in?" He laughed, and she put her hand out and gripped his ankle, hoping to comfort him enough to make him go away. "I'm fine. I'll eat and feel better by this afternoon." She let go of his ankle and smiled genially at him, covering her eyes so she could look up at his. He looked concerned, but she knew he wouldn't bother her if she didn't want him to. So he nudged at her arm with his foot in a gesture of affection, then turned and walked back up to the camp. Melissa sighed, thankful to have finally gotten rid of everyone, and closed her eyes, peacefully falling asleep.
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"Wait a minute! Why does she get to sleep in the middle of the day?" Taylor groaned at Nathan and Daley. Daley looked to Nathan for a reason, but Nathan didn't know. Just as she was about to concede and wake Melissa, Jackson came over from his fishing spot and stopped them.
"She doesn't feel well," he said, hoping this would fend Taylor off. It didn't; he should have known.
"You think I feel good? We're stuck on a desert island, Jackson! Why should she get special treatment?" On any other day, Jackson thought, she would have a point. He rubbed his forehead with wet, calloused hands, and hoped that Taylor would go throw a tantrum at someone else.
Thank God for Nathan.
"Look, Taylor, if Melissa feels that she's sick enough that she needs to lie down, then that's probably what she should do."
"Says who? Eric does that all the time, and you didn't even believe him when he was telling the truth!"
Daley looked at Taylor as though she thought the blonde might be joking. "Eric's track record isn't exactly angelic, Taylor. Melissa works really hard. If she's sick, I trust her to do the right thing." Taylor looked like she might challenge Daley, but the looks Nathan and Jackson had on their faces seemed as though they might sear her flesh if she said another word. She huffed and groaned, then turned toward the plane to find the battery charger and her bikini.
"So, Jackson," Nathan said hesitantly. "What is wrong with Mel? She's been asleep for hours."
For the first time in a long time, Jackson looked worried. "I… I don't know. She said she was just hungry, but…"
"Okay, chill," Nathan said, holding his hands up to Jackson. "Look, I know Melissa. She's not stupid: if something is really wrong, she won't angst it out."
"He's right," Daley piped up. "But, if you wanna check on her… we won't stop you."
Jackson felt the corners of his lips curve upward and his tense mind began to unwind. Nathan and Daley were good friends. They would sooner eat toxic oysters than let Melissa get hurt. He nodded to each of them slightly and walked down the beach toward Melissa's sleeping form.
When he looked down, he prepared to see the girl suffering some sort of ailment in her expression, no matter how violent or docile. What he saw was Melissa, sleeping soundly on her back, her features more carefree than they had been… well, since they had crashed. The ultimate look of peace overriding her other emotions was so powerful, somehow coursing through him and making his lungs seem empty, floating. He knelt beside her, his knees sinking into the shallow layer of gritty sand. He was about to touch her awake to see how she was feeling, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He lightly slid her hair away from her forehead and felt her skin. Her forehead felt cool against his fingers, so she obviously didn't have a fever. He sighed and removed his hand, running it smoothly over her arm and resting his hand back on her shoulder. She stirred, but didn't wake against his cool fingertips. He wanted more than anything to lie down next to her and sleep his own worries away, but he knew that there was fish to be caught and firewood to be collected. With one last lustful look at her sleeping form, he stood up and turned toward the camp.
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When she awoke, Melissa had the oddest feeling of fulfillment and comfort about her. She was warm, but not the nervous warmth she had had before she went to sleep. It was more of an easing feeling, one that enabled her to stand up in the sand and look at the camp behind her with an all-new optimism. Then she looked out at the horizon, suddenly noticing that the sun was going down. Oh no! I slept through, like, half of the day! She glanced down at the neglected food that Jackson had brought her earlier. Some sand had blown onto it, and it looked cold and congealed. She picked it up and flung it discreetly into the jungle. Then she turned and prepared to do her share of work – and more – until dinnertime.
As she strode toward the fire pit and picked up a water jug, Daley, who was carting a pouch of fruit from the jungle, intercepted her.
"Hey, Mel!" she said excitedly, setting the fruit down outside of the fire pit and approaching Melissa again. "I guess you're feeling better, huh? If you're not, you don't have to haul water. Eric can manage, even if he doesn't want to."
Melissa smiled and shifted the bottles so they would stop smacking her legs. "Relax, Daley. I'm fine; it was just a little bit of nausea. And besides, we always need more water."
Daley looked at her shrewdly for a moment, then shrugged and put her hand on Mel's shoulder.
"Fine by me. Just don't overwork yourself… until tomorrow, at least." The girls laughed, and Melissa nodded and walked toward the path to the well. As Melissa trudged away, Eric came up beside Daley, almost making her jump.
"What's up with Melissa? Is something wrong with her?" he asked quietly, fearing that Mel was still within hearing-range.
"I don't know, Eric. All I know is that she was asleep on the beach all day, and now she's doing your job."
"Well, I can't blame the girl. I mean, if I had been completely useless all day, I would want to do my share of everyone's work when I came around."
Daley looked at him skeptically. "Since when?"
"Yeah, ha ha, you're a real comedian." As he was walking away, he said to her, "Leave the comedy to me, Captain Uptight."
"Ugh!" Daley said, smirking beneath her annoyance. "Get back to work, Eric!" she called after him. He waved his hand, as though to say, "Yeah, right." She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to fruit and fire.
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Melissa was returning to camp with two full water jugs when she bumped into Jackson, who appeared to be hacking at a piece of bamboo. He stopped immediately and turned to face her. He was sweating through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, his face was scarlet from the base of his neck up, and his chest was heaving slightly. She smiled at him and he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
"Hey, Mel!" she heard for the second time that day. Evidently, they had been worried about her.
"Hey, I see you're working hard," she said, maintaining a good-natured grin. He noticed the full jugs in her hands and dropped the machete on the ground, reaching out and taking them from her.
"So are you," he said with a slight chuckle. "You shouldn't be working so hard if you're sick. See, Eric should be working so hard."
Melissa sighed, but kept her smile. "Why is everyone acting like I'm dying?" she asked jokingly. "I'm—" she took the jugs back from him "—fine." He sighed and shifted, still tired and sweaty.
That didn't keep him from saying, "If you need help with anything…"
"Yeah, I know, you're here."
"I was going to say, 'go bother Nathan or Daley,' but that works, too," he said with a slight grin. She forced a fake sigh and then laughed at him.
"There's only one thing I need you to do so I can get back to work."
He looked about ready to carry her from there to the camp. "What's that?"
"I need some… incentive. You know, so that I'll have the strength to carry on with my chores," she smirked. "I think a kiss will do."
He smiled and came toward her, stepping away from the bamboo trees so he could hold her in place. His hands wrapped instinctively around her hips and his firm, hot body pressed to hers. "I can do that."
She turned her head to receive him, his tender lips easily enveloping hers. She felt immeasurable comfort in his embrace, his warm, rough hands at her sides. His mouth tasted heavenly, the sweetness of coconut milk scintillating her senses. She let the jugs thud softly to the ground as her fingers snaked over his fiery chest and she continued to taste him, until finally her chest felt as though it would explode from the passion and lack of breath.
"Mm," she said dazedly. "It's been too long since I got a kiss like that. I almost forgot how you taste." Even through the initial flush on his skin, she could tell that she was making him feel embarrassed, but somehow happy. He hugged her and she kept herself comfortably pressed against him, feeling his heart beating against her hand.
"I have to get back to work," he said as he let her go. She nodded and picked up the jugs as he walked back toward the bamboo stalks. She was about to walk away when he let out a strangled yell.
She whipped around. "What happened?" She looked at him and deduced the problem within moments. He'd left his knife on the ground. He wasn't wearing shoes. "Why aren't you wearing any shoes?" She dropped the jugs again and knelt by his legs. The machete had left a fair gash in the bottom of his foot, and it was bleeding enough that he probably needed it wrapped up.
"I was fishing earlier, and my shoes were all wet, so my feet were getting irritated," Jackson replied through gritted teeth. Mel sighed and tore a piece of tattered fabric from the sleeve of her shirt, tying it tightly around his foot to placate the bleeding. He didn't wince once, but she could tell he was in pain.
"Come on, we have to get you back to camp so we can treat it properly." She stood and moved to his side, pulling his left arm over her shoulders. "Don't put any pressure on the cut when you walk."
"The jugs—"
"Leave them! I'll come back for them later."
Jackson limped at her side as they walked through the jungle back to camp, and all Melissa could think the whole time was, Lord, this has been a long day.
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A/N: So there's a peek of the story to come. Tell me what you think, but if you have any idea what's going on with Mel, please don't comment on it. It'll all be revealed soon, I promise.