Disclaimer: I don't own Lost. The twisted up version of the middle ages is mine though.

One

The first thing I noticed as I regained consciousness was that my shoulder really, really hurt. I opened my eyes slowly and saw trees high above me, and a leaf plummeted slowly toward me from the canopy. Trees? But…

And then I remembered the sudden turbulence, and the oxygen masks descending from the ceiling of the plane. I remembered struggling to reach mine, and then unlocking my handcuffs. The marshal had been knocked unconscious by a flying suitcase, and as I secured the mask over my face, the orange juice I'd been drinking lifted off the table and sloshed its remaining contents onto the luggage compartments above me. I relived feeling myself being pressed against the back of my chair, and then the world darkening as we accelerated and my heart lost the ability to pump blood to my brain.

Was I dead? No, no I couldn't be. I was in too much pain to be dead. Unless, of course, you're in hell, Kate. Then you'll be in pain for all eternity, and god knows you deserve it.

I turned my head from side to side and saw that I was in a forest. Carefully, I pushed myself to my feet and picked a direction to walk in. Surely there would be other survivors. All I had to do was find them.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been walking before I saw the first building. It was a tiny hut with a thatched roof and no windows, and I would've gone in but for the vile smell of rotting meat coming from it. A little ways ahead, I saw more dwellings and people walking around between them. I tried to call out to them for help as I felt my legs begin to give out, but no sound came from my parched throat.

Finally, I was in between the buildings, stumbling about almost as though drunk. The people avoided me like I was the plague incarnate, hustling their children into the houses as I passed by. I hardly noticed their old-fashioned dress or the strange, primitive architecture surrounding me.

I caught my foot on a rock and pitched forward, bracing myself for the impact that would surely hurt my dislocated shoulder something fierce, but it never came. A pair of arms caught me about the middle and lifted me, carrying me into one of the huts.

I was laid on a hard bed, or perhaps a table, and my rescuer left my side briefly to get something. It was dark and a little smoky in there, and there was a strange smell. An older woman emerged from the shadows and reached a weathered hand toward my face. I drew back.

"Who is this, Jack?" she asked, her voice laced with a slight accent. The man who'd carried me returned with a bandage and a dripping cloth in his hand.

"I found her outside," he replied. I looked up at his face and found it familiar, though it took me a minute to place it. Then I remembered: he'd been on the plane, sitting three rows in front of me. I'd seen him putting his luggage away.

"H-hey!" I choked, "I know you! You were on the plane! What are we doing here? Where are we? What happened?"

Jack and the older woman looked at each other. "Get the rosenaith," the woman ordered, "She is delusional."

"What?" I exclaimed, struggling to sit up, "No! I'm not! Don't you remember? The crash?" Jack disappeared again into the shadows and the old woman forced me back down with surprising strength. "Jack! I was on the plane too!"

"This is most likely going to hurt," Jack said, returning and handing the woman something. She pressed it against my forehead, dabbing at something, and it stung viciously. Jack's hands went to my shoulder and I felt the bone shift back into position. I yelled in brief pain, but then it was over and it abated somewhat.

Breathing hard, I managed to demand, "What's wrong with you people? Don't you remember?"

They ignored me, and the older woman wrapped the bandage around my head. A moment later, Jack inquired where my clothes were.

"What?" I raised my head to look down at myself. I was dressed. "I'm wearing them."

"Your proper clothes," he amended, "a woman should not wear men's clothes. Lord Benjamin will see you and be angered."

"Take these, child," said the woman, handing me a bundle of cloth. "I will help you change. Jack, go outside."

"Yes Master," he said and bowed, then exited the small hut through the door flap.

The woman aided me into a sitting position and then onto my own feet, and quickly undressed me, being careful of my shoulder. I protested, but with one arm useless, I could do little. Also, my head was beginning to feel heavy and my limbs weak as though I'd been drugged. I sagged in the woman's arms as she slid my pants down.

"No," I whispered, ashamed and a little scared.

"Hush," she replied gently, slipping my legs into the dress and pulling it up to my hips. "My name is Danielle," she told me as she gently put my arms into the garment. "I am the village healer." I said nothing, but lolled my head to the side when my muscles lost the strength to hold it up. "I have introduced myself," she said, "now it would be polite for you to tell me who you are."

"Kate…" I muttered as my eyes slipped closed, "Kate Austen…"

"Good girl," Danielle murmured and eased me back onto the cot. "Now, sleep."