A/N: I had an idea for this story a long time ago, but I was inspired to finish it by a new television show that I shall leave nameless. I am hooked, and I thought I'd blend it with my other favorite show, and I own neither one. Italics flashback. Please read and review. Enjoy!

Stranded

Chapter One: Steve Sloan

"Steve!" His wife's scream was the last thing that he heard before he blacked out.

When he awoke, Steve's first cognizance was the sharp ache running through his right arm. He had felt the pain before, when Carter Sweeney had shot him with a nail gun, and again when he was trying to stop a knife fight that had broken out at BBQ Bob's. The next of his senses to return was sight, and he was blinded by the glare of the sun.

…..

Steve had never been so happy in his life. A son! He smiled down at Ellen, her golden curls still damp from labor. But her forehead was creased with worry. A NICU team hovered around the newborn, quickly transferring him to an incubator. He would spend months in that plastic box. Steve could see the anxiety on the doctor's faces, but he put on a brave smile for Ellen.

This was not how the pregnancy was supposed to end. Not here. Not like this.

…..

Steve sat up. He was in a jungle clearing, surrounded by tall palms. There was a long stick sticking out of his right arm. Instinctively he remembered the first aid class he had attended at the YMCA as a teenager. With a painful yell, he pulled the stick from his flesh. He then tore the sleeve off of his dark blue shirt and wrapped it tightly around the wound to stanch the blood.

Then he heard the screams from behind the trees. He ran towards the sound. What he saw when he reached the beach was terrifying, to say the least.

The airplane they had all been riding in only minutes ago had crashed onto the shore. People were running all over the sand. A gray smoke permeated all of the air. Steve entered sleep mode, and he was not aware of his actions. He saw a blond girl, her hair pulled back in two messy braids. She was sitting on the ground, shaking with her fright. A brunette in a black dress was screaming, and pressing her hand against a cut on her leg.

A distinguished looking woman with shoulder length black hair was the only sense of calm in the chaos. She was running from person to person, giving quick, pointed orders. She looked to be a doctor, moving wounded, helping anyone who needed it. Steve's brain switched off of automatic pilot, and he ran forward with a start.

"My father is a doctor," he said. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yeah, sit still and let me take a look at your arm," she said. The blood was soaking through the improvised bandage, showing up in a dark crimson splotch.

"It's fine," Steve said, pulling away. The doctor seemed to sense that he was not going to budge. She wanted to insist that he let her help him, but there were people who needed medical assistance much more.

"Just help me get the people away from the wreckage, please," she said, hurrying to a man who was carrying a little girl.

"What's your name?" Steve called, "In case I need you."

"Joyce."

Joyce. It was the first tangible name he had heard. Then he thought of another: Ellen.

He had to find her. Steve hurried towards the hull of the plane and ducked inside. He instantly stumbled back a few feet, unable to breath in the thick black smoke. But after a short second, he went back into the plane. Everyone who was alive had already hurried outside, undoubtedly to fresh air. Everyone but one. Steve could hear the cry of a baby.

…..

Baby Michael had seemed healthy for the first few days of his life, although he weighed just over three pounds. But soon the doctors discovered a blocked artery in the tiny boy's heart. They decided that the need for surgery was imminent, and Steve and Ellen hadsigned the necessary release forms, resolving to give their baby the best chance at a normal life that they could.

They sat with Michael as the doctors scrubbed up and prepared for the operation.

"I feel like we're cursed," Ellen whispered. "First he's born three months early, out of our home country. And now the surgery."

"There's nothing we could have done differently," Steve said quietly.

"I know!" Ellen snapped. The small room was silent, but for the random beeping of the machines surrounding the incubator. "I'm sorry, Steve. I'm just so frustrated right now."

"We're going to get through this together, Ellen. And remember that no matter what happens, it is for the best. "Steve was now quoting his mother, when she had first learned of her cancer. She was so brave, and Steve hoped to pass some of that valor on to Ellen.

"I love you," she whispered. Steve put an arm around her shoulder and they watched their son as he was wheeled away. But Steve couldn't help but feel that Ellen was right; their son was being wheeled away to his doom.

…..

Steve cradled the tiny girl in his arms as he made his way back to the doctor's makeshift triage. She was in a bassinet on the seat beside her mother, who did not survive. Steve had grabbed the baby and the diaper bag, deciding to leave the basket. He was still searching for his wife, and was somewhat relieved when he did not see her body in the cabin.

Steve left the little girl with a woman who was sitting out of the way. His attention was soon attracted by a scream.

"Help, please, somebody! My brother's dying!" A pregnant woman with long, sandy blond hair was sitting beside a young man who was lying flat on his back. Ellen was performing CPR. Steve dropped to his knees, taking over the breathing for her. The man sputtered, and sat up, choking on the air that was now pumping back into his lungs.

"My name is Doctor Walters. I'm a gynecologist. How far are you?" Joyce said, appearing at their side.

"Thirty-four weeks," the woman replied.

"Okay, take deep breaths, and try to stay calm, so you don't trigger an early labor." Joyce turned her attention to the man. He had caught his breath and was now looking around, dazed.

Seeing that everything was momentarily under control, Steve pulled Ellen aside, and they just stood on the smoky beach. She leaned into his shoulder, too stunned to speak.

…..

The hospital lobby was cold. Steve and Ellen sat together as the hands on the clock ticked, more slowly, it seemed, then ever before. They thought that waiting for them to begin the surgery was hard, but this. This was a hundred times worst.

A door opened, and a doctor entered the plain room.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Ellen sunk to the floor, with bone racking sobs. Steve kneeled next to her, trying to comfort her, but too shocked to be of more help.

"Is there anyone I can call?" the doctor asked softly.

"No, thank you. Could we have a minute?" Steve spoke out. The doctor departed, leaving them in their misery.

…..

As night fell, the chaos had died down. Anyone with an injury people had all been settled in a designated area down the beach from the crash site. The others were gathered around a giant campfire, struggling to stay calm. There was almost no dialogue between anyone. All were expecting to see a rescue boat any minute.

Joyce and Steve were grilling Fred Harper, a co-pilot who was among those who had survived, pressing him for answers to all their various questions.

"Look, I don't know what happened. I've never seen anything like it. The radio transmitter klonked out about three hours in. The captain thought it would be best to land, and so we veered off course. Then we hit a storm, and both engines failed. We're just lucky that this island happened to be here, or we'd all be at the bottom of the ocean right now."

"But they have some way of tracking us, right?" Joyce asked. Fred sidestepped the issue to the point where both Steve and Joyce knew that anyone who was looking for them was looking thousands of miles away.

"I don't want to hear any more," Steve said disgustedly. He walked away towards the woman who was keeping an eye on the baby girl he had rescued from the plane. Pretty brown curls framed her face, setting off her blue eyes as she looked up to the cop.

"Hope," she said.

"Hope?" Steve repeated.

"The baby, her name is Hope. Hope Szalinski. It was in her diaper bag."

"And do you have a name?"

"Danietta Coleman," she offered, stretching out her hand.

"I'm Steve Sloan," he returned. Then he turned to the baby. "Hi, Hope, Sweetie. Are you okay?"

"So, you like babies?" she asked.

"Yeah," Steve said thoughtfully. "I guess I do."

…..

Two days after Michael passed away, Steve headed home. Steve was not looking forward to conveying the happenings of the past few weeks to his father. He would be so devastated. And the last thing he wanted was Amanda and Jesse's pity.

These thoughts were running through Steve's head, when, dressed in black, he and Ellen boarded their plane.

Flight 314, Tokyo to Los Angeles, took off at fifteen after eight. In just fourteen hours we'll land in California, Steve thought as he entered the jet way.