Sawyer and Isabelle sat silently together for a few minutes, watching the struggle on the beach. It was a disaster—something Isabelle had never experienced. Then she had to remind herself that she wasn't experiencing this event, because she was never on the plane and she never crashed on the island. This was their experience and she was just an observer.

"Look, that guy there…" Sawyer pointed suddenly.

"Yea? What about him?" Isabelle looked to where he was pointing and noticed a man with dark hair darting frantically around the wreckage—his jacket and tie flapping in the wind.

"I've been watching him for a while and he seems to be pretty on top of the rescue thing," Sawyer explained. "He gave that woman there CPR, and he was pretty attentive to the pregnant chick."

"Oh my god, one of the survivors is pregnant?"

"She looks about ready to burst from what I can see," he shook his head. "The point is, I think he might be a doctor or something. Maybe he could take a look at your cut."

"He seems a little distracted at the moment," Isabelle commented as she watched the supposed-doctor attend to a man who seemed to be pinned beneath part of the airplane wreckage.

"Yea, you're right," Sawyer agreed.

The two of them watched the doctor scramble around the beach, attending to anyone who called for his attention. They watched him for what felt like close to fifteen minutes before they spotted him dashing off the beach and into the trees, away from the throng. Sawyer stood suddenly and gave his hand to Isabelle.

"We should follow him," he told her.

"Really?" Isabelle allowed him to pull her to her feet, but quickly pulled her hand back when her side began to sting. "He might want to be alone."

"You're hurt. You need to be checked out," he insisted. "Come on…" he placed his hand on her lower back and guided her into the jungle in the direction that the doctor had gone. They came up on him quickly and found him kneeling on the ground and busily unbuttoning his shirt—his jacket had already been discarded.

"Hey…" he looked up when he noticed them.

"I'm sorry if we're bothering you," Isabelle apologized quickly.

"You're a doctor, right?" Sawyer asked immediately.

The man nodded. "Are you hurt?"

"She is," Sawyer gently pushed Isabelle forward.

"It's not that bad," she insisted.

"Why don't you let the Doc judge that?"

The doctor motioned for her to come towards him and slowly pried her hand away from her side, which she was still hiding. "I'm Jack, by the way."

"I'm Isabelle," she smiled at the gentleness of his touch on her wrist. "So, have you had enough of all the craziness out there?"

"Sorry?" Jack only seemed to partially hear her; he was already trying to see the cut hiding behind the layers of her dress and slip.

"I was just wondering why you're hiding out here…"

"No, I'm not hiding, I just needed a minute…" he stopped himself and smiled up at her. "You know what, it doesn't matter. Now I'm here to take care of you."

Isabelle caught something more in his tone, and pulled away from him. "Are you hurt?" She watched his expression. "You are, aren't you? That's why you came out here to be alone! You're hurt and you wanted to take care of it away from everyone else."

He nodded. "It's fine though. I'll take care of myself later."

She shook her head and took another step away from him. "You first. It's only fair. You've been taking care of all those other people, completely neglecting yourself."

He smiled at her—he seemed a little surprised that she actually cared. "Have you ever used a needle? I mean could you manage a couple stitches?" He finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it off. Isabelle tried not to stare, but she couldn't ignore his well-sculpted abs and even more attractive arms, highlighted by a couple detailed tattoos. "Well? What do you think?"

She blinked and pulled her eyes away. "What?"

"Do you think you could manage it?" He directed her attention to his own wound on his side, similar to the location of her own cut. "I'd do it myself, but I can't reach it."

She nodded quickly. "I was pre-med, for a couple years. I never got my degree, but I think I can mange a couple stitches."

"Perfect," he handed her a sewing kit that he had recovered from the wreckage and then he pulled a few mini liquor bottles from his pockets.

"Now you're talking," Sawyer spoke up and stepped forward to snatch one of the bottles away from the doctor.

"They're not for you to drink," Jack rebuked. "It's for her hands, and I need some for the wound."

"Fine, that would take maybe one bottle. What about the other three?" Sawyer unscrewed the lid of the bottle he was holding and held it up. "Come on, don't you think we deserve a little relaxation after the hell we've been through?"

Jack sighed and glanced at Isabelle.

She shrugged. "He sort of has a point, plus I could do with a little something to calm my nerves before I go sticking a needle into you. It's been a couple years…"

Jack nodded. "Fine, go ahead."

Sawyer took a drink from the little bottle and then handed it to her. She took a short sip and then poured the rest over her hands as the doctor had instructed.

"We'll save the rest for later, when we're in a more celebratory mood." She pulled out the needle from the sewing kit. "Color preference?"

He laughed a little. "Standard black's just fine."

She threaded the needle with the black thread while Jack opened another bottle of vodka and poured half of it on his wound; he drank the rest of it.

"Ready?" she situated the needle at one end of his would and prepared to slip it in. "I don't know how this will feel, but I assume it's going to hurt."

"You'll do fine."

"You don't seem afraid at all," Isabelle told him. "I don't understand that."

"Well, fear's sort of an odd thing. 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 sac, shredded the base of the spine where all the nerves come together, membrane as thin as tissue. And so it ripped open and the 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." Jack took a breath and he seemed as though he might start to cry. Sawyer was watching from a distance, but Isabelle was listening intently. "So I just made a choice. I'd let the fear in, let it take over, let it do its thing, but only for 5 seconds, that's all I was going to give it. So I started to count, one, two, three, four, five, then it was gone. I went back to work, sewed her up and she was fine."

"Yea. There's a reason I only stayed in med school for short time," Isabelle smiled. "I never would have lasted."

"You might have surprised yourself. You're doing okay now."

Reassured, Isabelle sewed quickly, but carefully, not wanting to hurt him any more than absolutely necessary. He was tough though and barely even flinched throughout the whole process. When she finished and finally tied off the thread, she turned to Sawyer to break the thread free from the needle.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" Isabelle ran her fingers over the stitching job she had done, very softly.

"No, it wasn't bad at all," Jack told her. "You were very gentle."

"I tried." She helped him slip back into his shirt and even buttoned a few of the buttons for him.

Sawyer stepped forward again. "Time for her stitch-up now, right?"

"Right," Jack stood and directed Isabelle to a tree stump where she could sit. "Okay, this is going to be a little awkward to ask, but I can't really access your wound very well."

"Yea, that is a little awkward, but I assume it would be easier for you if I gave you better access…" she untied her dress at the waist and partially slipped it off so he could see her side better.

"Umm, your slip is still…" Jack seemed very uncomfortable even mentioning it.

She smiled and nodded, though this time a slight blush crept into her cheeks as she started to slide the straps of her slip over one shoulder and then the other. She shrugged the slip down slowly until it revealed her pale-pink lace bra; she stopped when she noticed that both the men were watching her closely.

"All right, this is uncomfortable enough without the two of you watching me like I'm giving a show."

Both the men shamefully averted their eyes, giving her privacy to finish undressing. When she had removed the slip entirely she then held it up in front of herself to maintain some coverage, but still leave the wound on her side exposed for the doctor to work on.

"You can look now," she told them when she was ready.

They turned back slowly—their eyes still drifted automatically toward her chest. Jack spoke up quickly, trying not to prolong the already awkward situation. "Any color preference?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Sawyer can choose."

"Really?" Sawyer laughed. "I feel so honored."

"You should," she handed him the thread card. "I'm going to be stuck with it."

"Then I'd vote pink," he told her. "It'll match your lingerie."

She blushed and held the slip more tightly; very aware of how much she was showing them. She thought of her instructions from Ben and wondered if revealing her bra and panties to two strange men could help her mission at all.

Jack started threading the needle with the pink thread. "Sawyer, could you rinse the wound with the vodka?"

He picked up one of the small bottles and approached her side. "It might sting. Actually, it will sting a lot."

"I'll be okay," she assured him, but she took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. He poured a little of the alcohol over her cut and she whimpered a little, but recovered quickly. "All done?"

"Yep," he gave the rest of the bottle to Jack who poured its contents over his own hands and then prepared to begin the sewing. "Unfortunately, that was the easy part."

"Sawyer…" Isabelle spoke up.

"Yea?"

"Would you hold my hand?"

"You're not afraid of the pain, are you?" Jack asked as he held the needle against her skin.

"No, not really," she smiled. "I've just never had stitches before."

Sawyer knelt beside her and covered her hand with his. "You can squeeze as hard as you want."

"Thanks," she maneuvered her fingers beneath his hand so that she was gripping better and then nodded at Jack. "I'm ready now."

"All right," he slipped the needle beneath her skin and pulled the thread through. "That wasn't that bad, right?"

"Is it over?"

"Not quite," Jack touched her side gently with his fingertips. "I'll try to be quick though." He slid the needle through again.

"Okay, it's kind of hurting now…"

"Is it bad?" Jack continued sewing her up, but she could tell that he was trying to be as gentle as possible.

"It's fine," she told him. "I'm fine. I can handle it." Even as she said it though, she squeezed Sawyer's hand more tightly.

"Just think about something else," Jack suggested. "Tell me more about yourself. You mentioned that you studied medicine for a while. What happened with that? Why did you quit?"

"It wasn't my thing," she tried to talk without reacting to the pain. "I didn't like the idea of having to tell people that their loved ones have died."

Jack nodded. "Yea, it's not an easy job. What did you do after you dropped out of med-school?"

"I traveled for a while."

"See anything cool?"

She sucked in a sharp breath as the needle dug particularly hard into her skin.

"Isabelle," Jack tried to keep her attention focused on his questions and not on the pain. "Tell me about some of the places you've visited. What's your favorite location?"

"Egypt," she answered quickly. "I saw the pyramids and the Sphinx."

"Egypt? Wow, I've always wanted to go there."

"It's amazing," she told him. "You should definitely go if you ever get a chance."

"I definitely will."

"And Morocco," she continued thinking of locations as he continued to sew up her wound. "And Croatia was really interesting…"

"You really have been all over, haven't you?" Sawyer interrupted.

"I like to see new places," she explained simply.

Jack continued with the stitches, and she continued to squeeze Sawyer's hand. The snap of a twig alerted them to someone else coming through the tress. A moment later a woman with curly brown hair emerged into the clearing where they were stationed. She was rubbing her wrists and looking away from them; she didn't seem to have noticed them yet.

"Hi," Isabelle spoke up.

The woman turned to them quickly—she still seemed a little confused. "What?"

"I said 'hi'," Isabelle repeated. "Are you okay?"

"Yea, I'm fine…" she smiled a little, but still looked distracted. "I didn't mean to bother you…" She made this comment while noticing Isabelle's lack of clothing.

"You're not bothering anything. Truthfully, I appreciate meeting another female. These guys are great, but there's just something reassuring about knowing I'm not the only girl!"

She nodded.

"What's your name?"

"Kate."

"I'm Isabelle," she smiled. "This is Jack and Sawyer."

Kate nodded, acknowledging the other two. She didn't come closer, but she didn't leave either, clearly willing to stay with them.

Jack slid the needle through her skin once more and then tied it off. "Take a deep breath," he warned her and then he used his teeth to break the thread. "All finished."

"Really?" She looked down, trying to see the finished job. "Do you think it will leave a scar?"

"Probably," Jack answered truthfully. "It shouldn't be too bad, but the stitches were pretty basic."

"Well, we'll have matching scars then." She laughed and he laughed—it gave them much needed relief from the stress that they had both been trying to suppress.

"It's probably going to be pretty sore for a while. If it gets too bad, let me know and I'll check on it." He stood and stuffed the remaining thread and the needle into the pocket of his pants. "I want to make sure it doesn't get infected."

"Yes Doctor," she smiled and stood, still holding the slip for cover. "Turn around, please, boys." Sawyer and Jack turned their backs to her again and she quickly pulled the slip back on and then her dress. Kate averted her eyes politely, but didn't bother to turn around. "Okay," she told them as she finished tying her dress back in place.

"Now what?" Sawyer asked.

"I think we're going to have to go back out there eventually."

Jack looked to Kate. "Do you have any injuries for me to look at?"

She shook her head. "No, I think I'm fine."

"That's good," he stood. "I should get back. There were some pretty badly injured people that might need to be checked on."

"Thank you for taking care of me," Isabelle caught his hand and squeezed it briefly as he prepared to leave.

"Anytime," he smiled and nodded to the others before returning to the beach. Kate watched him leave, smiled at the other two who remained and then followed the doctor back to the beach.

"We should go back too," Isabelle decided suddenly. "We might be able to help somehow."

Sawyer looked hesitant to leave the quiet of the trees, but when Isabelle started to limp away he caught up to her. "You okay, Princess?"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Just a little light headed."

"Want to lean on me?"

She smiled at him, but shook her head. "It's not that bad. I can walk."

Sawyer nodded and gave her some space, but still walked with her out of the trees and back onto the beach. The confusion and terror had calmed down only a little. Most people were standing still, observing the wreckage with quiet, but paralyzing fear. Some were trying to create order—pulling bodies and luggage from the scattered plane parts. She noticed the doctor had already returned to his duties and Kate had started mingling with the other survivors.

"I guess I'll see you later," she told Sawyer.

"Yea?" He seemed a little confused about why she was leaving him.

"I think I might be able to help out," she explained, and then she walked away from him, without looking back.

Always keep them wanting more. She thought to herself as she headed away from him. It creates curiosity and interest. Isabelle smiled as she swayed her hips a little more than necessary. She had no doubt that he was watching her walk away.