A/N- Sorry the last chapter was so short, amd this one is too, I just decided I wanted to post something, even if it wasn't great. Anyyyway, constructive criticism would be really helpful right about now. X

Lara slowly came to her senses when she heard screams, and explosions, and cries, and panic. Generally not the sort of thing you want to wake up to. She was disoriented to say the least, it appeared that she was hanging upside down and still fastened into her seat. She realised this was a pretty dangerous position to be in, and after seeing a large man in a white shirt get sucked into the planes propeller causing it to explode, she screamed. A lot.

"Help, please, somebody- anybody- help!" she screamed over and over, her throat becoming raw. If only she could manoeuvre her left arm out from under the armrest of the seat, she could free herself. But it was stuck, and her hip was covered in blood.

Suddenly she felt hands fumbling at her waist, and heard the click of the silver metal seat belt buckle being undone. Warm, rough hands grabbed at her waist and hip, dragging her limp form from the wreckage. She heard whimpering and crying, and it took a moment for her to realise the pitiful noises were coming from her lips.

"Shit," her rescuer murmured in a southern accent, peeling her white tank top up and over her injured hip. Peering down, Lara realised that she had a deep four or five inch long gash, practically following the waistband of her jeans around the curve of her right placed her on warm sand, far enough away from the wreckage to be safe, and simply walked away. She was slightly annoyed at first, he hadn't even asked if she was alright, or told her his name, but looking back at the crash sight she saw that the seat she had been trapped in was now engulfed in flames.

Slowly standing up, Lara decided to figure out how badly she was hurt; blood trickled from a small cut above her forehead, there was the cut on her right hip, and she was bruised all over. But nothing was broken, and judging from the still bodies scattered around the sandy beach, she had been lucky.

Realising there were were bound to be others in need of help, she jogged towards the wreckage, stretching her bruised limbs. Taking in her surroundings, Lara realised she was on some sort of island, or at least thats what she assumed it was. Bright white sand spread from the pale blue sea to the tall palm trees. It looked like the perfect holiday resort. Aside from the smoking remains of the plane, that is.

Lara whirled around upon hearing high pitched screaming, a pretty blond woman in an entirely pink outfit was standing amidst the chaos wailing like a banshee. She wasn't even in any danger, just an annoyance to those actually trying to help.

A young, good looking, guy was running up to people and asking for pens, while a man in a suit rushed from one injured person to the next. Assuming he was a doctor, Lara followed him to where he was helping a heavily pregnant woman to a safer location.

"Thanks," she murmured, sounding traumatised. Well, I guess we all are, Lara thought.

While the doctor rattled off questions about what trimester she was in, condescendingly chastising her when he realised she was in her third and still flying, Lara looked around once more. It appeared that things were calming down. The survivors were gathered far away enough from the wreckage to be safe, some dragging the dead into the fuselage, so that they were out of sight of the living.

The doctor tired of talking to Claire, the pregnant girl, and turned to Lara. "That cut could get infected, I should take a look at it." he said, expecting her to comply.

Somewhat reluctantly, she pulled her tank top up, uncovering her injury. "I don't think it's that bad," she murmured, never having liked doctors.

He glanced up at her curiously while wiping the blood away from her right hip "How old are you, where are your parents?"

"I'm 15 and they're in LA," she replied bluntly.

"But you're English?" he asked, beginning to stitch the gash with a small hotel sewing kit.

Lara hated questions that stated the obvious, and she hated stitches twice as much. Rather than venting her anger and frustration at the doctor towardsthe doctor, she muttered "Yes." under her breath.

Finishing the stitches, the doctor, or Jack as he introduced himself, told a story "When I was in residency, my first solo procedure was a spinal surgery on a 16-year-old kid. A girl. And at the end, after 13 hours, I was closing her up and I accidentally ripped her dural sack. It's at the base of the spine where all the nerves come together. Membrane as thin as tissue, and it ripped open. Nerves just spilled out of her like angel hair pasta, spinal fluid flowing out of her and the terror was just so crazy, so real and I knew I had to deal with it. So I just made a choice. I'd let the fear in, let it take over, let it do it's thing. But only for five seconds, that's all I was gonna give it. So I started to count. One, two, three, four, five. And it was gone. I went back to work, sewed her up and she was fine."

While the story was sweet, and moving, it was Jacks condescending and self-righteous tone that annoyed Lara.
"Look," said jack, finishing of the stitches "We'll look after you until we're all rescued." With that he walked off, holding his back, in the same direction a pretty brunette lady had walked moments before.

Lara also thought it was ironic that he was grouping all the survivors together as a unit, as if it wasn't inevitable that divides would form. At least until they were rescued, that is. This is going to be just like Lord of the Flies, Lara thought miserably.