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"How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on….when in your heart, you begin to understand…there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend… some hurts that go too deep…that have taken hold." ~Frodo

Beep…beep…beep…beep

The incessant beeping was driving me mad. I frowned as a bright light pierced through my eyelids, rough fabric rustled across my skin as I shifted. The beeping picked up slightly and I wondered what it was.

There was a muffled chorus of voices, so blurred together I could make out none of it. Finally, I was able to open my eyes. The blinding light burned for a moment before my eyes adjusted to the ridiculous amount of light.

A white ceiling came into focus and I tried to reason out what room would have such a plain ceiling. A hospital. I discovered, as I moved my head a fraction to see the blasted beeping machine that was monitoring my heart rate.

It wasn't my first time in a hospital, and it probably wouldn't be the last, but that didn't mean I wanted out of there any less. I struggled to sit up and wondered how long I had been out of it. My back barely hurt at all, for which I was very thankful.

The room spun for a moment when I finally managed to sit up, but once everything stayed still, I looked around. Trying to find something to put on other than the flimsy hospital gown.

I discovered a pair of black sweatpants and t-shirt folded neatly on one of the stools. Slowly, I swung my legs up over the side of the bed. Feeling a slight tug on my arm, I glanced down, noticing the IV needle sticking out of my arm. Morphine the bag read. Nothing needed for survival, so I grabbed the needle and pulled it from my arm.

Tentatively I reached back to feel the wound across my back. I was startled by how much it seemed to have healed. The skin was raised up and I knew I'd carry the scar for the rest of my life. Twisting slightly, I could see the edge of the wound, still red and covered in a large scab that had partially turned to scarring already. Just how long had I been out? A wound like that would have taken weeks to heal this much!

I grabbed the clothes and tore the monitors off of my body, I had to get out of here. The monitor started blaring as an alarm went off, warning doctors that the heart rate had flat lined. I didn't care, I could never handle being in a hospital very well and I had to get out of there now.

A doctor rushed in through the door as I pulled the sweatpants up. "Miss Baker, you shouldn't be up." he stated as he shut off the alarm. I turned away from him as I ripped the gown off and threw the shirt on.

"Where are the papers? I'll sign myself out." I asked, already heading towards the door.

"Miss Baker you are not ready to be released. You suffered traumatic injuries and we need to be sure you are healthy." the doctor tried to grab my arm and gently pull me back towards the bed, but I resisted, pulling my arm out of his grasp.

"I'm fine, perfectly healthy, now where are those damn papers?" I snapped, tapping my foot in impatience. The hospital was spiking my anxiety levels and I had to get out of here. I could feel the bad memories snaking their way back into my mind as I tried to shove them back into the dark corners I had put them.

The doctor, whom I recognized as Dr. Malcolm, shook his head, I'd been his patient before and he knew how I usually acted. He held out his hand, motioning for me to go out the door, I did, walking faster than usual but having to slow as a wave of dizziness swept over me.

The paperwork seemed to take longer than usual, as Malcolm had to explain to me why I had been unconscious for almost three weeks. But finally I was out the front doors and breathing in the fresh air again. After a few breaths, I started to stop shaking and climbed into the Taxi waiting for me.

Thirty minutes later and I was standing on my front porch, looking at the dark windows. As dawn approached, the light lit up the small, simple apartment complex that I called home. It didn't feel like I was here just a month ago. It felt like it had been years since I'd seen this place, like I should walk in and everything would be covered in spider webs and dust. But as I grabbed the spare key above the door frame and walked in, everything was how I'd left it.

There was a thin layer of dust, but that was nothing unusual since I was rarely here, hence why I lived in an apartment instead of a regular house.

The old clock on the wall continued to click the seconds away as I took in everything. After putting on some real clothes, I dropped down on the sofa and stared at the blank TV. I wondered how the others were doing, especially Billy. Had everyone gone home and returned to their routine lives? How could they? We spent less than three full days on that island, and yet my life had been changed in a way that there was no going back to how I used to be.

Two Weeks Later:

I jumped out of the dusty, worn jeep, keeping a hand on my holstered pistol as the group of tourists climbed out after me. I was back in Africa, for the first time since the lion attack. A part of me wanted nothing more than to jump in the jeep and leave. But I continued on, moving on with my life.

I'd only spent three days at home before I went looking for a job, I couldn't stand sitting around doing nothing, wishing I knew where Billy was. My heart yearned for him and I couldn't figure out just when I had fallen for him or how I had fallen so hard.

Many years ago I had promised myself that I would remain a free woman, that I wouldn't give my heart to any man. But sometime while on that blasted island, he had taken it without me even noticing. I knew it was hopeless though, I didn't know where he was or if he was even alive.

So I pushed on, trying not to think about him or the island. I went back to routine and tried to forget the last month. But there was one thing I could never push out of my mind.

The two other mercenary men with me I didn't know, I'd never seen them before and I didn't care to learn there names. This was my first job without Cooper and Nash, and if felt all wrong.

How could I go on with routine when my two partners were gone forever? Unconsciously, my left hand reached up and grasped the dog tags Nash had worn as I followed behind the group into the African wild.

We had little trouble on the trip. The other guards were obviously new to this job, as they would not stop talking of the 'dangerous' situation we had found ourselves in when we had inadvertently stumbled upon a pride of lions. I couldn't help but scoff. The cats could do some damage sure, but not in the quick, brutal way a Spinosaurus or Velociraptor could. Each animal could have been easily dispatched if they tried to harm us.

My mind wondered back to Billy. How was he copping with the memories? Was he plagued with constant nightmares like I was? Did he wake with the memory of the dead?

There was no adventure in this anymore. It was like walking through a zoo. The animals tame and the gun useless. I didn't want adventure if it would cost lives though.

What did I want these days? I wanted to go back and stop myself from going. I wanted to save Nash and Cooper. I wanted to stop myself from meeting Billy, perhaps then I could have spared myself this pain.

But there was no going back, there was only standing still or moving forward. And I was never one to stay in one place for long.

I watched as the rich tourists awed over the herd of zebras, taking countless photos. My eyes scanned the grass and sure enough, only a few yards from the herd was the tawny hide of a lioness. She wasn't alone, they never were.

The group started to walk away, believing they had seen all that was to be seen at this spot. I stayed where I was, crouched down in the dry grass. A morbid part of me wanted them to see the attack, to see just how fragile life was and how quickly it could end.

"Miss Baker, are we moving on?" one of the tourists asked. The two mercenaries looked at me, still too new at the business to have any faith in their decisions.

I shook my head, putting a finger to my mouth to signal to be quiet. "Wait." I ordered, not moving my eyes from the herd.

No sooner had the group turned towards the animals that the lionesses took their chance on an elderly zebra. The first lion sprung from the grass, her deadly claws raking across the animals flank. The herd took off as the attacked zebra let out a pained cry.

The tourists cameras were for once quiet as they watched the end of the equine's life. It only took seconds as the herd took off and the other lionesses sprung out of the grass, surrounding the injured animal and cutting it off from his family.

Three lions jumped at the rear, two latching onto the rump while the third landed on its back. Two others clawed at the front as the zebra tried in vain to escape.

Did it know the end was near? Did it realize it was going to die? Was it resigned to its fate, that it would die to feed the hungry lions?

Finally, a sixth lioness leapt from her cover and wrapped her jaws around the doomed animal's neck. My hand rubbed my own neck, where I had once felt those deadly jaws. Did Nash and Cooper feel like that zebra? Did Udesky realize he was going to die? That there was no hope for survival? How would they have lived if they knew they would die on that island? Why I did I survive?

Why was that one zebra out of hundreds chosen to die when there was another right next to him. Why did I live while my family-by-all-rights perished?

The zebra finally collapsed, giving one final kick and squeal before going still. The lionesses roared out their victory, calling out to the lion that a meal had been caught.

The tourists remained silent and unmoving, as did the two armed men. The male lion strode onto the kill site and immediately dug into the carcass as the lionesses waited on the side.

I slowly stood from my crouched position, motioning for the others to do the same. The lion saw us and roared. One of the men raised his gun, but I pressed down on his arm. "He's not interested in us."

We continued on, the tourists for once remaining quiet and I guessed this was the first time any of them had seen something die.

It only took them a few hours to go back to normal though. And the rest of the four day trip went uneventfully.

I found myself back in the states, with no job for another month. I was unused to being alone for so long. Once again I found myself sitting on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Suddenly the phone went off, the shrill ringing breaking me from my thoughts.

"Lexi Baker." I answered dully. I had almost considered unplugging my phone as news reporters and journalists insisted on hounding me for an interview once the story got out of the second Isla Sorna disaster.

"Lexi? It's Paul Kirby." there was a pause for a moment and I swore to myself that if he wanted my help rescuing someone I would kill him myself. "You're a hard woman to get a hold of." I glanced over at the answering machine, which had a bright red flashing 32.

"I'm a busy person Mr. Kirby." I lied, not wanting to continue this useless babble.

"Yes of course. Listen Amanda and I would like to properly thank you for helping us find Eric. Let us take you to dinner say tomorrow?" I couldn't stop the anger from coursing through me. Did he really think dinner would fix everything? I sighed, knowing that there wasn't anything he could do .

I didn't know if I could face them, I part if me wanted to, for some closure at least, but another part wanted to put it all behind me and just shove it out of my mind.

I knew it was ridiculous to refuse simply because I didn't want to remember all that I had tried to repress. But I simply wasn't ready to go back and deal with everything yet. "I'm sorry Mr. Kirby, but I am terribly busy. Perhaps another day." I lied, knowing full well that I would put it off as long as I could.

"Oh alright, yes another time then." Paul said preparing to hang up.

I couldn't stop myself from asking "Mr. Kirby? How is Billy?" I held my breath, waiting for bad news.

"Billy? Oh he's fine, wasn't even in the hospital that long." Kirby answered and I let out a sigh of relief, finally some good news.

"Thank you Mr. Kirby. " I said before hanging up, now I could rest easier, knowing he was safe and alright.

I couldn't stay sitting there for the rest of the day, so I stood up and prepared to go where I hadn't gone in many years.

The simple name plates were right next to each other, just what they would have wanted. I dropped down on my knees between the two graves. Simple markers though it was, as their real graves were on that cursed island.

I pulled Nash's dog tags from around my neck, gripping them tightly in my hand as the other laid down the simple lilies.

"I'm sorry." I whispered. There had to have been something I could have done to spare them. Something to prevent their untimely deaths.

"There wasn't anything you could have done." A voice said from behind me and my heart leapt into my throat, pounding away so loudly I expected the man behind me to hear it.

"Billy?"

And there you go! Please drop a review and tell me what you think! Hate it? Love it? Want another chap before NaNo starts in 5 days? Let me know!

Black Wolf-Dog

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