A/N: Okay I just discovered Flight 29 Down about, oh, I dunno, three weeks ago, so I'm brand new to all this. I've spent the last week on YouTube watching every episode availible. I'm a huge insomniac and this hit me like a bolt of lightening this morning at around 4am. Without trying to brag, I'm actually pretty proud of this story. Watching the show, I've taken strong note of the type of interaction Melissa and Jackson have and I think I portrayed it acturately. But please, let me know. I'd love to hear the opinions of fellow fans of the show, and this couple. I hope you all enjoy it.
It was evening and the sun was beginning its decent. The four companions had stopped and made their camp for the night. Eric and Abby sat by the fire chatting to one another quietly. Well, as quietly as Eric chatted, that is. Melissa had gone into the jungle to collect more firewood for the night.
About fifty yards from the camp and around a corner so he was out of site, Jackson sat on the beach watching the sunset. At least here he had the illusion of being alone. Judging by the location of the sun in relation to where they were, the group were well on their way to finding the farthest west point in the island. That was both promising and discouraging. It had been nearly two weeks since Abby, Eric, Melissa and Jackson himself had left the camp in an attempt to find the others, and perhaps, even civilization. So far they'd found no sign of either. No one wanted to say it, but that was a very bad sign.
Jackson never questioned his decision to follow Abby, though. Back at camp his world was once again beginning to shrink. He was getting anxious, almost to a sickening degree. At least out here he felt like he was making a real attempt to be rescued. If it all turned out to be in vain, as it had for Abby in the past, at least he could go on with the knowledge that he'd really tried. Given how little he actually cared for himself, that said something.
He was missing Lex. That much he admitted to himself. He'd never met a more trustworthy person in his life. Or a more perceptive one, for that matter, and the kid was only ten for Christ's sake. As far as the other's back at camp were concerned, his affection for them never much passed a casual interest in their well-being. He wasn't indifferent, mind you. Just preoccupied.
Abby's alpha survival instincts were a little too intense for him at times. He got that she was in a bad head space. He understood that all consuming need for survival coupled with the deadweight of the world on your shoulders more than anyone on the island. For the most part he agreed with her, too. But sometimes her crazy, machete-swinging, wolf-howling, jungle-woman routine got kind of old. He prefered to keep his distance from people in general, but he made a little extra effort with Abby.
Eric was just a tool. Enough said.
Then there was Melissa.
Last he'd seen her, she'd gone off to get firewood. He knew that wasn't where she was now. He felt her eyes on him some time ago, and he knew she was debating with herselfa bout whether or not to say something. He made the decision for her. "Hey, Mel." His eyes stayed on the ocean.
"Hi, Jackson!" she replied cheerily. He stayed quiet. Melissa sighed. She always desperately wanted to talk to him, but it rarely ended well. In fact, it ofetn ended with her making a foold of herself, and him walking off with that same grim expression he always had. Jackson had told her he liked her, but with her lack of self-confidence and his penchant for silence, she often doubted it. "Some day, huh?" she ventured, finally deciding she wanted to attempt to keep the converstation going.
"Yeah, I guess."
Not knowing what else to say, Melissa found herself blurting out, "What do you miss about home?" She sat next to Jackson, scrunching her face up and biting her lip, angry with herself for asking such a stupid question.
For the first time, he glanced at her with an eyebrow raised. "Do you really think we should talk about that?"
Embarressed, Melissa avoided eye contact with him, suddenly very interested in the sand. "You're probably right," she said, abashed. Then she shrugged. "But, I mean, what else are we supposed to talk about now? Given the circumstances." Jackson remained silent, looking pensive. Melissa tried again. "How do you think the others are doing?"
Jackson scoffed and shook his head. "How many times do you think we've asked that question between the four of us?"
Melissa smiled saddly. "About a million," she said with a defeated sigh. "I just worry, you know. We aren't exactly living in the world of cell phones. We can't give them a call everytime we want to check up on them. Everyday that goes by I can't help wondering if they're running out of water or food or if someone is hurt. Or worse. What if-"
"Informercials," Jackson interupted.
Melissa stopped dead in her rant. She looked stunned. "Wh-what?" she stammered.
Jackson shrugged. "Informercials. I miss infomercials." From the look on his face, Melissa gathered, much to her surprise, that he was entirely serious. Of course, when Jackson said something he was always serious. It wasn't his style to say anything unless it meant something.
Melissa rolled her lips in the way she foten did when she was thinking about something deeply. "Infomercials?" she repeated cautiously. She really wanted him to elaborate, but didn't want to appear desperate or like she was pressing him.
Jackson had that distant look on his face he often had. His eyes remained on the horizon while his hands fiddled absent-mindedly with a twip he couldn't recall picking up. The silence that follwed Melissa's meek questioning was almost agonizing for her, and she began to think she'd once again stepped to far. Then she watched him shrug once more. "Yeah. Sounds stupid, I know-"
"No it doesn't!" Melissa jumped in eagerly, as she always seemed to do when talking to him. Mentally she kicked herself for once again behaving like a flake. She couldn't help it. She was both intimidated and enamored with him. It would be difficult for anyone to behave normally under those circumstances. "Um," she faltered, feeling her face flush. "It, ah, doesn't sound stupid. I just wasn't expecting it."
Jackson inwardly smirked. He found it both a little irritating and enduring the way Melissa conducted herself around him. He had since the day he'd met her. On the one hand, he wished she had more self-confidence and could just relax around him. On the other hand, he found it adorable how hard she tried to make him feel accepted and comfortable. He also found it a little flattering. And he was not the type to feel flattered or honoured by anything. He was too apathetic for that. So it was definitely saying something about how much he actually liked this girl.
"S-so why infomercials?"
Jackson decided he felt more adoring than irritated to day, so he indulged her. "Back home, I, uh, never slept very well. My mom worked nights, and I was always home alone. So I'd go out to the living room and watch infomercials whenever I couldn't sleep till I'd pass out on the couch. Same goes after I moved in with my foster parents. Now when I can't sleep I just lay awake until everyone else gets up. Infomercials are the only thing that's ever gotten me back to sleep." He chuckled bitterly. "I think I must have seen the George Forman Grill one a thousand times."
"I think my favourite has always been the one with that thing that's a blender, processor, and juicer all in one." That one hit Jackson too fast for him to hide his shock. He looked at her and she giggled softly. "Sleep doesn't exactly come naturally to me either."
"Everytime I think I've got you figured," Jackson murmured with a faint smile on his lips.
Melissa nudged him good naturedly. "I guess you're not the only one with a little mystery about them around here," she replied with a proud grin.
Jackson allowed his smile to get a little bigger before he moved his focus back to the dying light before them. "No, I guess not," he breathed.
Well there you have it. I hope you enjoyed it. I don't wanna beg but please review. Constructive critism is welcome, but please no flames. I'm sensitive and I'd like to stay that way.