Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon; it belongs to Nintendo. All of the OCs and the Doren region, however, are mine.

Saltwater lapped at Zane's shins, causing him to groan incoherently in half-felt pain. He tried to sit up, maybe get a good idea of why his legs hurt, but his entire body ached at even the thought. So he lay there, letting the water wash over his shins, trying to think seriously about what might have happened, but eventually finding that he didn't have the energy and allowing his mind to wander.

Oh well, Zane thought, trying to be optimistic, at least it's warm here…His thoughts stopped for a second. Why the heck was he thinking that? Sure, it was warm, but warm as compared to where? Why, for that matter, did he care? All these questions were getting in his way. After all, it was warm and sunny, and he was having such a hard time staying awake. Besides, whatever was hurting him was probably nothing to be concerned about. It wasn't as if he were bleeding or anything. And if anything was wrong, wouldn't the crew have sent out an alarm? There really wasn't a good reason for him not to close his eyes and-

"Over here! We've got one!"

Zane turned his head slightly, grumbling internally. Was it too much to ask for a little peace and quiet? As several people ran over to him, two of them carrying what looked like a stretcher, Zane closed his eyes and tried to get a little rest. Honestly, for perfect strangers, these people took too much interest in… in… in…

Zane let his train of thought slip away and surrendered to the darkness.

"So, Professor, what do you think?" asked a man carrying a box full of salvage from the wrecked cruise ship. "D'ya think he's gonna make it?"

Staring down at the young man in question, the professor shook his head. "This boy's lucky to have survived the shipwreck, but I don't know how much longer he'll be able to hold together". In fact, the professor mused grimly, he may die right here. The young man was a mess. His clothes were torn and beaten and he seemed to be bleeding profusely from the shins, side, and, in particular, the left arm, which also seemed to be infected. Professor Alder was no medical expert, but it appeared to him that even if the young man did survive, it would be necessary to amputate his arm.

"If" being the operative word, he reminded himself. Still, we have to try. After all, weren't we all in this position, at one time or another?

"Well," Professor Alder said aloud, "He'll never have a chance if we stand around talking. Put him on the stretcher," he directed his assistants, who hurriedly did as they were told. As they worked, he pulled a poke' ball out from one of the pockets of his beaten, stained lab coat and pushed the button to release a long-necked blue pokemon covered in fluffy white feathers.

"Dirge," the professor said to the Altaria, "I trust you know where to go?"

"Altaaaaaaaaaar," the pokemon thrummed, signaling that he understood.

"Good." Professor Alder patted his Altaria quickly. "Now take the stretcher and go."

Gripping the stretcher with the young man on it gently in his talons, Dirge flew off as quickly as his wings would carry him.

, there it is! Please review; I would appreciate any constructive suggestions. No flames please!