Feeling the thick, long carpet under her curling fingers, Sarah knows exactly were she is. She's lying in Vic's apartment atop the filthy rug he uses to cover all the chips in the floor. Vic isn't here—the silence of the mostly-empty space rings loudly in her ears. She is alone. It's times like these, when the loneliness keeps her eyes closed with the flashes of her mistakes, does she think about her sister. The sister she could have had. The sister she should have had, if the two of them hadn't been given away to separate strangers, lost in other ends of the world. Maybe with a sister she wouldn't feel this alone. But who is she kidding, she would've figured out how to drive her sister away, too. Loneliness might hurt, but at least it's comfortable.

Sarah reaches for the leg of the table, planning to use it to help upright herself into a sitting position, when her hand grips what feels like a soggy log. Both hands branch out, slowly concluding that she may not be in Vic's apartment at all, as blades of grass lick at her arms. Her eyes open wide, letting the sunlight pour into her head, making it impossible to focus through her hazy vision. She turns to the side into the shadow of the arm coming around her face when she squints at the ears of a fluffy-looking puppy from far away. She blinks hard when the puppy moves closer to her, only to discover the puppy is actually a person with thick, blonde curls. Her eyesight blurs again as she sits up, seeing the puppy-woman run towards her, lips moving in obvious panic, but Sarah has a hard time hearing her through the loud ringing.

The woman half-crouches next to her, asking "Are you okay?" as Sarah comes to her feet, rubbing the back of her head, but still nodding. "When the plane was falling, I think—" the woman begins to say, hands tracing the path of the plane above her head before Sarah's most recent memories flush through her, pushing away her clouded vision, her ringing ears, her pounding headache because she remembers how she isn't alone. She lunges into a sprint for a break between the jungle brush that spills out into the sandy beach. "KIRA!"

The beach greets her like a nightmare. The sounds of screaming and mangled machinery push down on her ears as if they hold a physical weight. A woman in a blue scarf stands motionless, shrieking loud enough for every passenger on the plane. It masks the loud hums of the broken mechanical parts, and certainly makes it impossible for Sarah to hear any response her daughter may be yelling to her. She wants to strangle the woman with her goddamn scarf.

Blood stains the white sand in trails that lead to the water. What if—She can't afford to even think it. "Kira! Monkey can you hear me?!" She darts around to the backside of a plane piece the size of a trailer. "Felix! Siobhan!" But the only thing greeting her on the other side of the jagged chunk of plane is more blood, more loud clanking of metal, and more screams of people that aren't Kira, Felix, or S. It twists her stomach in ways that weaken the strength of her knees, the strength of her voice, the strength of her hope. "Kira!"

She feels a tap on her shoulder and jumps, not realizing the blonde woman had been following her through the plane's wreckage. "Is that Kira?" She asks hopefully, a French accent painting her words with a comforting fluidity. Sarah's gaze follows the woman's outstretched arm, then throws herself into a sprint in her daughter's direction.

Kira is yelling out to her, standing with S and Felix where the jungle starts to melt into the beach. Sarah reaches out, falling on her knees, and wrapping her daughter in her arms. Their cheeks press together as Sarah's hands run down the back of Kira's head, feeling for any alarming injuries as tears sting in her eyes. Finally, Kira pulls away gently. With her arms still around her daughter, Sarah collects her relief and asks, "You okay, Monkey?" The little girl nods her head slowly and Sarah pulls her in for another hug and asks the same of the two behind Kira. Siobhan replies with a quick "yes," coming closer to the two of them and placing a hand on Sarah's shoulder. Felix stares out at the chaos in front of him. "Holy shite."

When Sarah releases Kira, the terrifying image consumes the relief she just experienced. Red streaks the sand everywhere and people are darting this way and that, jumping around, searching for friends and helping the broken ones. And everyone is still screaming. Not five feet from them lies a woman on her stomach, unmoving. "Kira, look at the jungle," Sarah encourages in strained voice as she walks to the limp body.

The woman's straight brown hair falls over her face, covering her eyes, and her black shirt bunches up around the badge fastened to her hip. Sarah is about to turn away when she catches the rustling of the woman's hair by her mouth. Quickly, she dips down to check her pulse, finding her not dead at all, and grips the woman's shoulders to bring her on her back, shaking her gently. "Oi!"

The woman comes to, eyes blinking rapidly. "My name's Sarah, can you tell me what your name is?"

"Beth—it's Beth," she says, coming to stand up much faster than Sarah had first been able to. "Are you fucking serious? Our plane fell out of the sky?" Sarah watches the thin line of white cotton in the sky as it transforms into a pillar of smoke on the beach. She really can't believe it either. The woman—Beth—puts her hands over her eyes, shading them from sunlight, and squints into the wreckage. Sarah starts to ask if she's looking for someone when a short woman with hair falling out of her pony tail stumbles right into Beth.

It takes her a few moments to realize what blocks her path. "Sorry!" She yells over the clanking metal and terrified voices. Beth nods her head in acceptance and reaches to steady the woman from falling over. A sharp sob bursts from the woman's mouth and Beth recoils at the sound.

"Shit," she mutters, looking at the woman's arm. Sarah notices it now, too. It's hanging limply at the woman's side with her shoulder jut out irregularly. "Hey," Beth directs gently to the woman. "What's your name?"

"It's on my name tag."

Beth and Sarah look at the woman's shirt, coming up empty.

"Uh…Okay. Look, your shoulder, it's dislocated. I'm going to put it back, okay? Umm, try squeezing this with your other hand," she adds, supplying the woman with a fist-sized rock.

She takes the rock and lets it fall to the ground in the same moment. "But it doesn't even hurt," she tries explaining, looking at her shoulder as she did so. Suddenly, her voice skyrockets back to yelling-volume. "My name tag is gone!" She touches the space on her blouse where it must have been. "I used the last of my sequence on it," she whimpers.

Beth picks up the rock and tries handing it back to the woman. "Have you seen my name tag?!" She shouts to Beth, as if they aren't less than a foot away from each other. Sarah rolls her eyes. This woman is out of her bloody mind. The plane crash probably hasn't even registered yet. Obviously not, if she can't tell her shoulder is out of it's socket.

"No, no. I haven't seen it," Beth says softer. "But if you tell me your name, you don't need a name tag."

Sarah raises her eyebrows, impressed with Beth's ability to calm the woman down enough for her to reply with "Alison."

Beth sets the rock back into Alison's hand, asking what the name tag looks like. Alison is mid-description when Sarah's ears are met with a chilling crack followed by a loud yelp of pain. Sarah cringes at the sound but meets Beth's eyes. The cop's hand is brushing Alison's good arm as she informs Sarah, "I have to find a few people." Her voice hardens, nothing like the voice she used to coax Alison into being a cooperative patient.

Sarah nods, watching Alison follow after Beth, yelling. "Wait! Will you help me find my name tag?"

She turns back towards Kira and the others, expecting to find the French woman with them, but she has since left the group. Sarah settles in the sand behind Kira, watching the jungle and pulling her daughter on her lap. "It's gonna be okay, Monkey," she assures her with a kiss on her head.

Kira slouches into her mother's grasp, sighing. "I don't think so."