Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Pretty please?
I floated downriver, semiconscious, in a haze of pain and blood. I couldn't focus properly. I was distantly aware of numerous bleeding wounds all over my body, but I couldn't seem to do anything to help myself. I saw something floating off to my left. I slowly and painfully turned my head, trying to figure out what it was. Alan's hat, miraculously unharmed, floating down the river with me. I reached out with a bleeding arm and grabbed it, clutching tight to my chest. I was determined not to let go of it. I needed to return it to its owner. I made that my major mission in life. It was a childish fancy; if I returned Alan's hat to him, everything would be alright. I had to hang onto that hat. If I lost it, then all was lost. Suddenly I was aware of a new sound. Water, but a different sort of water than I was lying in. Waves, I thought. A different smell, too. Saltwater. I was close to the ocean. I couldn't wash out to sea; I had to stay here on land. I looked around, painfully, aware of dried blood cracking in various wounds. I dragged my bloodied body over to the side of the river. That small action cost me the last of my strength. Through the fog of pain and exhaustion, I was distantly aware of a man standing over me, asking something. I was too tired to answer him. Why couldn't he leave me alone? Just let me sleep… please, just let me be… leave me alone. Everything was getting darker. No, that couldn't be right; it was still in the afternoon. Why was everything so fuzzy? Why couldn't I focus on what the man wanted to ask me? It was important, I could tell. A name caught my rapidly blacking out attention. Alan. Alan Grant. That name meant something. Something connected to the hat I held tight in my hand. Something important. I had to tell them something. Alan. Alan needed their help. Had to tell them…
The next time I regained consciousness, my mind was clearer, though I wasn't sure where I was. It wasn't where I had last passed out, of that I was sure. I was lying on my back, covered with a thin, but warm blanket. The next thing I knew was that my ragged shirt was gone, my wounds bandaged, and I wasn't in as much pain as before. Before it had been like I had been dropped into a pit of boiling lava. Now, I was being dropped into a pit of lukewarm lava. Still very painful, but not as agonizingly so as before. I thought I was in a helicopter. The sound of the chopper blades was very loud and close. Some people got in and I just sort of stared past them, wondering where this helicopter was and how I had gotten there. A medic was looking at the deep cut on my forehead. I ignored him, trying to figure out what had happened. My memory was slowly piecing itself together. There had been a man before. He mentioned Alan's name. Just as I thought of him, someone said his name. "Dr. Grant," the man who was out of my line of sight. Turning my head to see him seemed out of the question. "Is this man with you?" Somebody moved into my sight. It was Alan. I turned my head slightly to see him better. He came around and looked at me closely, seemingly in shock that I was still alive. I smiled in recognition. "Hey," I said weakly, "You made it." All my prayers had been answered. It was all worth it after all. He nodded, still shocked at my condition. "Yeah," he said finally. I had something to give him something, something important. I felt the hat gripped tightly in my left hand. I had forgotten all about it. "I rescued your hat," I said hoarsely, handing it to him. He stared at it, as if it was a totally foreign object. He probably thought it was gone for good. That hat had been places with him, I knew. To Isla Nublar the first time. It needed to be returned. It was a part of Alan Grant, one that couldn't be lost. He took it from me and I noticed that his hands were trembling. "Dr. Grant," someone shouted over the roar of the chopper engines, probably trying to get him to buckle up and sit down. "Well," Alan said, attempting a feeble joke, "That's the important thing." I grinned weakly. That same somebody who kept trying to get Alan to sit down spoke up again, asking him to sit and buckle up. Before he left he patted me on the most uninjured part of my shoulder reassuringly and I watched him walk back to his seat. Then my eyes sought out Eric. Where was he? Had he even survived the whole trip? I was relieved to find him sitting in a seat close to me, grinning at me delightedly. Somebody was glad to see me. Looking around, he mouthed, "Thank you," at me. I nodded at him, in a way of saying, "You're welcome. Anytime." I closed my eyes tiredly. Still, I couldn't help but feel that the survival of this many had something to do with that hat. That stupid, stupid hat had gotten us through it. Gotten me through it. As stupid as I felt doing it, I said a silent thank you to the hat. Just in case.