She was so thirsty, the need for water overpowering the rest of her senses which would have otherwise have been screaming at the agony she was in. Her body felt like it had been stripped of all moisture, baked for hours in the sun and ripped apart by sandstorms. But in her mind, there was nothing wrong with that, it seemed appropriate for who she was and what she had done. Even so, the survivor in her, the one who had forced her through a lifetime of agony and isolation, forced her up, pushed her where her body would have just preferred to stay put and let fate sort the rest out.
It was then that she noticed something was wrong. Her eyes fluttered open, the effort of moving her eyelids was one she had never suspected, and it almost took more than she could muster. When she did manage it, she forced them shut again, the overwhelming pain of the sun glaring at her with all it's strength for daring to be alive causing agony to ripple through her body, awakening all the other agonies that were lying in wait for her mind to recognise them. She would have screamed, except her throat was so dry that no noise would escape. Instead, her agony echoed through her brain in an unending scream that deafened her to everything else.
Every breath sent further torment through her body, but she endured it silently, the same way she always had. She was no fool, she had only had her eyes open for a second, but it was long enough to realise her predicament. She was alone, abandoned on the beach for being too risky to take back, too dangerous. Survival depended solely on her, the same way it always had done. All she had to do was force herself to get up, there would be some water nearby, they wouldn't have taken it when they left, and she would be fine. That was the way her mind worked, tackle the immediate problem and leave the others.
She tried to move, to push herself up, ignoring the pain as something that was irrelevant. She managed it, somehow, but she didn't move again. There was a seeping warmth spreading across her stomach, her fingers were sticky with it, and as her body dripped with perspiration, her mind dripped with desperation. She couldn't do this. She could barely move, every breath was shadowed with agony, she was ridiculously dehydrated, and blood was pouring from her. It was too much.
A moment that stretched into infinity but was as short as a heartbeat held her in her terror, silent and still. Then she heard it. His voice was filled with a joy that banished every creeping emotion in her mind, setting her at ease. She opened her eyes and he filled her sight, the water dripping off him making him shimmer in the sunlight, his smile so infectious that she felt one forming on her own face. Without questioning why she felt so safe and protected by the man who had betrayed her secret to everyone, she let him take care of her, too tired to do anything else. As he whispered reassurances to her, placing pressure on her stomach to stop the bleeding and laying her back down, she drifted off into a contented sleep. The terror of a moment ago was forgotten. Sawyer was taking care of everything, and she was safe.
Having laid her down, he kissed her softly knowing that she was already asleep. Sat in the warm sand, watching the soft movements of her breathing he felt a million miles away from the terrified vigil he had made the first night they'd been left here. Instead of consuming darkness that hid everything except an occasional shuddering breath, her body was illuminated by the soft glow of the sun, and every breath she made came as further proof that she was going to live.