Maggie was impossibly tired.

It was a miracle that she had yet to give into the crushing exhaustion after having struggled for God knows how long to stay alive. Just as miraculous was the fact that she had yet to freeze to death, clinging onto a buoy in the middle of the ocean in the dead of night. She could barely move, and the sensation of being stabbed by a thousand pins and needles had transitioned into complete numbness a while ago.

How she hated the cold.

A wave washed over her, and she whimpered softly, utterly exhausted. She had never yearned more for a warm bed. If she survived this, she would never take warmth or rest for granted again. Or fresh water, for that matter; she would give just about anything just to get rid of the horrible taste of salt.

In the distance, she could spot the skyline of a city that in contrast to her, was very much alive. It was odd to think about all the different fates the city held. Whilst some of its inhabitants were out searching for her, most of them would never know of the lone FBI agent freezing to death just some miles away. Maybe she'd make a few headlines; Maggie imagined lawyers and accountants reading the article with a raised eyebrow, somewhat grateful they hadn't chosen to live the life of an FBI agent themselves. Then they'd leave for work, and by the time they got home, they would have forgotten the story. Just like that, Maggie Bell would fade away and be forgotten.

" You'll be fine ," she murmured, trying to comfort herself. She couldn't afford to lose hope. "Any minute now. Just hold on a little longer."

If she was being completely honest, this was not what she had had in mind when envisioning the dangers of her occupation. Bombs, car accidents, gunfights and biological attacks seemed a lot more plausible than falling off a ferry . She must be far gone, because thinking about the improbability of it all made her chuckle. Maybe she'd end up being part of the curriculum at Quantico and they'd teach the recruits what not to do when in her situation. At least then she wouldn't be forgotten.

However, as much as she hated her current situation, she could not say that she regretted her decision. Paulson would have killed that kid had she not tackled him as he charged towards her. She had been lucky enough to avoid being slashed by the knife he was waving around, but during the struggle, he had dragged her with him overboard.

Hitting the water had been an unpleasant experience. Salt water had forced its way through her nose, leaving a nasty sting, and she could've sworn her ears were going to explode. Her body was undeniably full of bruises, too. She might've hit water, but gravity didn't mind after having fallen a few dozen feet.

After having spent a few terrifying moments unable to differ up from down, she fought her way to the surface, her lungs screaming for air. She was powerless against the current, which had pulled her away from the ferry at an alarming speed. Just keeping herself afloat had been a challenge. Had she not bumped into the buoy when she did, she would've undoubtedly drowned shortly after; she'd spent a good five minutes coughing and heaving for air after pulling herself on top of it, completely exhausted.

OA had seen her go over – she had heard him shout her name as she hit the water – which meant that more than likely, a search party had been dispatched shortly after. At this moment, they were working their best to locate her.

They'll be her soon, she thought, to tired too say it. She had faith in them.

For now, she had nothing for company but herself and whatever the water held. She'd never been a particular fan of the ocean, fearful of the unknown horrors the dark water beneath her harboured. It made her feel vulnerable.

Regardless of her discomfort, she felt herself slipping out of consciousness not long after. Keeping her eyes open was becoming an impossible task, and despite her best efforts to fight for her life, it was undeniable that her body was shutting down.

The feeling of the life slowly draining from her body was eerie and unlike any other; she had never felt as calm, but never as afraid, either. She didn't want to die like this, alone and cold after having fought so hard. She didn't want to fade away into nothingness and be forgotten.

Then there was the odd sensation of being lifted into the air, and she was unable to tell whether or not she was so far gone that she had started to imagine things. In a split second, she was surrounded by complete chaos, with high noises and people touching her, and in spite of her closed eyes, she still felt blinded by the sudden light.

"Maggie?"

OA . So, she wasn't dead. Not yet, at least. That ought to count for something.

"Maggie ?" He repeated, a bit louder this time.

It was impossible for her to decipher the rest of what he said, as with whatever the crew working on removing her wet clothing were saying; but all the noise was hurting her head. Right now, she only wanted to go to sleep and escape all the pain.

They're terribly gentle with her as they cut away the fabric plastered to her body, careful not to move her unless they had too. She was too fatigued to care much about how exposed she was, but she still felt a pang of gratitude as they wrapped blankets around her quickly afterwards.

OA continued talking, repeating her name in almost every sentence. Maggie. Maggie. Mags. Maggie. It was hard to make out most of what he was saying, but she still found it comforting to know that something familiar was near. She let out a drowsy and incoherent murmur in an attempt to voice her appreciation – the first sound she'd made since she'd arrived in what she presumed was a helicopter – and she heard OA say her name again, this time with relief mixed with his worry.

It's the last thing she heard before she drifted off into unconsciousness, finally giving into the weariness.