Medical Tent Bravo

Samantha turned to leave the tent, badly needing some air, but stopped when she realize how she looked. Much of the front side of her scrubs were covered in blood after the failed attempt to save poor Jenny's life. She didn't want those outside the tent to see her like this, even though she was pretty sure that the rumor mill was already spreading the news that they'd lost another life to the savagery of the C-130's crash landing.

She looked back to Dr. Biermann, finding him standing over the dead woman with his hands in his pockets and head lowered. He removed his glasses and wiped a tear from his eyes. The emotion and gesture resulting from it surprised Samantha. Biermann had thus far seemed so ... unemotional about what the community was going through thus far, so to see him shed a tear over losing another patient was somewhat of a shock to her.

She found herself feeling empathy and sympathy both for him. Samantha had worked Emergency Rooms for years, and she'd seen Doctors lose a great many patients after automobile accidents or gangland shootings or violent domestic disputes. After a while, most of them ceased showing the deep emotion that came with losing someone on the table. Oh, it didn't mean that they were unfeeling monsters or anything like that. It's just that they often became desensitized to the losses.

Samantha found herself very content with seeing that Heineken could still feel in this way.

She crossed over to a makeshift shelf unit, shed her bloodied scrubs, and slipped into a lightweight vest. The sun was threatening to disappear for the evening, and she knew that it was going to get much chillier very quickly once darkness arrived. Outside, she found the Mission Coordinator standing only a dozen yards away; she was obviously waiting for news about the emergency surgery.

Crossing toward Carol, Samantha only shook her head. The other woman's eyes instantly welled up with tears; Carol and Jenny had been friends as well as Mission coworkers, and of all the losses thus far, this ranked at the top as the most devastating, side by side with the loss of both of little Autumn Fitzpatrick's parents.

"I'll get the crew to begin digging," Carol said, referring to the preparation of yet another gravesite. "We'll wait until dark. Everyone doesn't need to see this." When Samantha nodded her agreement, Carol asked, "How's the Doc taking it?"

Samantha wasn't sure whether or not she should be speaking for Biermann. She replied, "He's keeping busy with the other patients, but ... you might want to check in with him at some point."

"I will," Carol said.

She took Samantha's hands in her own, asked if she had time to take a rest or at least get some food, then hugged her tenderly. When they parted and Samantha headed away, Carol looked off toward the forest's edge and caught sight of Paula's recon' team returning. She hurried over to them wanting badly to hear what they'd found.

"That's incredible," she said after the team informed her of both the abandone airstrip and the freshwater creek. "We'll check it out more tomorrow and think about moving the camp there. We have to be close to water."

"What about rescue?" one of the other survivors nearby asked with a harsh tone. He gestured a hand out toward the surf, asking, "How we gonna see a ship out there if we're all living in the jungle?"

Others who'd come closer to hear about Paula and Desmond's trek joined in the conversation, and within seconds it was a full blown argument about what the community should do. Carol called for quiet, then again, and finally a third time before she had the group's attention.

"We're not going to abandon the idea of rescue, people, trust me," she promised. "We have to move the camp to a place close to water ... but that doesn't mean that we can't station people here on the beach--"

She gestured toward the mountain above the forward portion of the C-130's fuselage, continuing, "--or even up on that peak to look for and to signal a ship or a plane if we see one."

Most conversation followed about who would man the lookouts, with some of the survivors volunteering while others argued that they shouldn't be forced to stand watches. Carol found that argument odd, believing that anyone and everyone would be willing to keep on the lookout for rescue. But apparently, there were a handful or more of survivors who thought that they were above such labor.

"Listen! Everyone listen!" she cut in again. Once relative silence prevailed, Carol finished, "We'll figure all of this out tomorrow. Nothing has to be decided tonight. For now, go back to whatever it was that you were doing and don't worry about tomorrow and moving and rescue. We'll deal with that tomorrow."

People began breaking off and returning to what they'd been doing. Carol concluded some conversations with people who simply had to ask more questions or make more comments. Finally, she got a break and turned to look off to the west, where the sun was about to disappear into the sea, just to the south of the island's west end. It was so beautiful that it made her forget what she was facing at the moment.

It was true that Autumn was catching almost none of what Peter was saying, after all, the girl was deaf, and as much as people liked to think that people with hearing impairments could simply read lips, such was not the case here. Not just for the simple fact that lip reading was, in actuality, quite impossible with how limited the shapes of a mouth were in forming endless variations of sound, but also simply for the fact that Autumn was merely a child. She was still learning ASL for God's sake! Really, it was lucky she was able to write as well as she could. Better than the average seven-year-old, that was for sure, but being able to write didn't help with understanding people when they rattled on like Peter was.
The best the young girl could put together was that the man was questioning her presence, and perhaps where someone else was, what with the way he kept looking down the beach a ways. She wondered who he was looking for, and if maybe they were the reason he kept running away. She knew that her daddy would run away sometimes when her mommy was upset about something he did. It was never anything serious though, usually, it was just that daddy had eaten mommy's treats, or had forgotten to fix something around the house, or that one time a lady was being really nice to daddy for some reason. She wasn't sure why that last one upset her mommy so much, but she remembered her daddy having to hide for a while afterwards. Maybe that was why this man was hiding so much?
She didn't get to think much on it though as Peter knelt in front of her and offered her the candy bar. Looking down at the chocolate, her smile grew even wider, and she reached to grab it, eagerly, before stopping as she spotted something about the label of the treat. Pulling back, she frowned slightly, then shifted a little before holding out her wrist for the man to see the simple paracord band that was an medical alert bracelet.
[Autumn Fitzpatrick. Peanut and Treenut Allergy. Deaf.] the band read simply, and then she pointed to the label of the candy being offered to show that it indeed contained nuts. Her warm gaze returned to the man then, frown still in place, though after a moment, she smiled once more, that big goofy grin not straying long as she simply signed 'thank you'.
With that, she shifted, pulling her backpack to take it off of her back and instead position it in front of her, wearing the bag across her front the way so many children did. Biting her tongue, she dug around for a moment, before pulling out a colorful pad of paper and a pen, with which she then proceeded to write the words 'why hide' along with a doodle of some trees and a stick figure that was presumably Peter.
Before she could show the communication to the man, however, someone called out to the two of them. Autumn, of course, couldn't actually hear them, but they were loud enough that, much the same as she could 'hear' sirens and thunder, she was able to know that someone was calling. That, and the baffoon was standing their waving their arms in the air to get their attention. Not all that hard to hard to miss, even without hearing...
With not another thought, she shoved the pad of paper and the pen back in her bag, returned the backpack to it's proper placement on her back, then looked at Peter with an almost challenging look before taking off running down the beach.
There was only one way to interpret that, even if it wasn't any form of proper communication: Last one there's a rotten egg!

Day 2, sunrise:

Carol Kingsley stood over yet another grave as a body was lowered into it. This particular burial was the most difficult for her thus far, even worse than laying both of little Autumn Fitzpatrick's parents to rest.

Jenny had been more than just another Mission worker. She and Carol had been close friends for twenty years, working half a dozen Missions together during that time. After one particularly tragic event during a mission in Turkey, the two of them had been wracked by emotion and in need of comfort. They spent the evening in each other's arms, despite the fact that while Carol was very much a lesbian, Jenny most certainly was not. While they both treasured their passionate encounter, they would never repeat it, not out of regret but out of respect for one another.

Departing the cemetery, Carol headed for the Kitchen Tent. There, Ana Bautista (OOC: profile coming) was hard at work serving breakfast to her fellow survivors. The tiny Filipino woman had once been a chef at a 4 Star restaurant in Sydney, but the stress of the job had been too much for her. Shockingly, Ana had found that working Humanitarian Missions after tragic events was gave her a sense of contentment and accomplishment that far surpassed what she had been doing before.

Carol filled her personal travel mug with coffee, stuffed her mouth with a couple of fork-fulls of powdered, scrambled eggs, and milled about. The vast majority of the Community's now-surviving 37 members was either in the tent or sitting somewhere outside. Carol found a location from which most of the others could easily see her and began speaking.

They spoke about moving the camp inland, close to fresh water. There was a sense that maybe more exploration was needed first, and Carol agreed. It was decided that the Security Teams would continue their treks; they still hadn't ventured to the northwest end of the island or up the mountain above them to the east, if such a climb was safe.

They also talked about the assignment of labor. Each of the survivors -- excluding the handful of children, of course -- had joined the Mission to perform a specific assignment. "For the time being, I would suggest that each of us sticks with the job for which we signed up."

She looked to specific people as she mentioned their specific skills, continuing, "Cooks cook, builders build, doctors and nurses ... well, you get it."

Carol saw concern in some of the faces and understood the reason. "Yeah, I know, some of you were hired for work on Tongalo that doesn't apply here. And others of you would probably prefer to do something different than that for which you were hired. If you have concerns, I invite you to come to me, and we'll talk about it."

She scanned the group, then continued, "The most important thing right now is that we do all we can to ensure our safety and survival until rescue comes. And yes ... I'm sure that rescue it imminent. In the meantime, though ... we have work to do, so ... eat up, fill your veins with caffeine, and let's get to work."

After the impromptu breakfast talk ended, Paula pulled Carol aside, asking her quietly, "Do you think you could separate Desmond and Tyrelle for a few minutes? I'd like to chat with the kid for a moment."

Carol studied the other woman for a moment, and she thought that she should probably ask what this was about. In the end, though, she simply responded, "Of course."

The Coordinator casually found Desmond, reaching a hand out to him as she complimented him on what his team had accomplished the day before. "Could we talk a minute. I'd like to hear more about what you saw out there yesterday."

Once Paula saw Carol turn the man away from the community to chat as they wandered, she casually made her way to the teen, asking, "I'd like to talk to a moment."

As Carol had Desmond, Paula led Tyrelle away from the larger group of people. She spent the first minute or so chatting about the trek the day before, asking him some of the same questions that Carol was likely asking the boy's guardian.

Finally, Paula got to the point. "Please, Tyrelle, if I am treading into something that is none of my business, please tell me." She hesitated a moment, then asked, "Is everything okay between you and your step-father...? Do I have that right ... step-father?"

Paula hoped that she wasn't delving into a personal area that would upset the teen. But she had the distinct feeling that things were not okay between the two. If Tyrelle wanted to talk about it, she would listen. If he didn't and wished to be left alone, she would let him leave her without objection.

Day 2: Sunrise; "Kitchen"

Tyrelle had been in the tent designated as a mess hall since about the time Ana herself would have arrived to begin cooking, he himself arriving not long after the cook and asking if she'd mind if he simply sat in the tent, though offering his help if she wanted it. By that point, he had been awake for hours, awakened late into the night ─ or perhaps it was early into the morning... ─ by one of his recurring nightmares. He had long since conditioned himself not to yell out on waking, having faced enough judgment from his adoptive father over the years; the man who scoffed at the idea of sending the boy to therapy following his rescue. That wasn't to say that Tyrelle hadn't been receiving therapy in response to his trauma, it just had always been something Desmond looked down upon.
By the time others began to still and mill about the tent, Tyrelle had grown tired again, his lack of sleep finally catching up with him, and he soon sat himself at a table where he hoped to be alone. A poor hope that had been as the man who had become his guardian soon joined him with a helping of food for each of them. Tyrelle didn't need to have heard the conversation to know that the man had been asked to bring him food, for he knew that Desmond would not have thought of it alone. He listened to his guardian brattle on about their situation and how he expected Tyrelle to help him and the other security workers on the reconnaissance team. Figured. The boy had had no choice in coming along on the C-130 mission to begin with, so it didn't surprise him that the man was once again giving him no choice but to comply with his wishes.

Merely picking at his rehydrated eggs, Tyrelle began to block out the words of his guardian, as well as the noise of the rest of the tent. It was getting too crowded for his liking, and he was beginning to feel the need for fresh air, but knew that Desmond wouldn't let him just up and leave without some cutting response about his lack of eating. And so he continued to push the food around, jaw visibly tight, only occasionally allowing a bite to make its way into his mouth. As Desmond went on to ramble about how Tyrelle should get to know some of the younger girls among the survivors, because maybe a woman would help keep his head out of whatever cloud he often went to, the boy felt as though he were losing more brain cells than usual and abandoned his food by that point to bury his head in his hands. He was tired, and he felt sick to his stomach, not to mention his body still ached everywhere from his fall the previous day; getting relationship advice was just about the last thing he needed at that moment, maybe even less so than a hole in the head.
When Carol showed up and took Desmond away, he honestly couldn't hold back his sigh of relief.

"Finally," he'd muttered before looking up as Paula seemed to want his attention. He stood to follow the woman, abandoning his food entirely. The boy was grateful as the woman led him away from the crowd, visibly relaxing a degree as they reached a sense of being alone. He listened, somewhat absently, as she spoke of the day before, answering whatever questions she had about the trek in short, precise responses that seemed almost practiced. They weren't. Of course, they weren't. Desmond hadn't had time for that. Tyrelle simply had been at this, whatever one wanted to consider what 'this' was, for so many years that it was his natural response. All the more, Tyrelle could tell that Paula was skirting around something, but just as he was about to ask her to get to the point, she did, and suffice was to say, he was a bit caught off guard.

Looking at Paula with his mouth partially open, he blinked. Once. Twice. Something in his bi-colored gaze was reaching out, absolutely begging to be heard, but just as quickly as it had come, it was gone, and the boy looked away from the interim security chief to look down at the ground instead as he responded.

"Adopted," he said shortly, "Desmond adopted me. Otherwise, no relation. Step-father would be married in," he added the last part in a quiet mumble, not sure if it was impolite to be correcting someone who was quite certainly considered his superior, regardless of whether or not he actually wanted to be on the team. Swallowing, he shifted his weight to the other side as he went on to say, "But to answer your initial question, yes ma'am, everything is fine between me and the old man. This is just...how we are, I guess...it doesn't matter much, really... You don't have to worry. If anything, I've just been tired, ma'am," he explained to her then and finally lifted his gaze once more to meet hers, steely and confident, too much so for someone so young, "The trek yesterday was a lot more than I'm used to," he told her, "and after falling and getting soaked...it was just a lot, but I'll survive, and once I have a chance to have some proper rest again, I'm sure everything'll be more than fine. Until then though, I assure you, there's nothing to be concerned about."

Day 2: Sunrise

Paula took in Tyrelle's reaction to her question about his relationship with Desmond and was certain that she had indeed stepped into something that was none of her business. But Tyrelle assured her that all was fine between him and the man who was his adoptive father as opposed to stepfather as she had mistakenly called the man.

"The trek yesterday was a lot more than I'm used to," he told her, going on to explain all that he'd gone through. "...I'm sure everything'll be more than fine. Until then though, I assure you, there's nothing to be concerned about."

Paula had always been good at reading people; it had been part of her success as a skilled Military Police officer. She could see that there was far more to Tyrell's relationship with Desmond than he was admitting to. But again, she questioned whether or not it was her place to get involved. Tyrelle showed no signs of physical abuse, and Paula hadn't witnessed Desmond being psychologically abusive of the teen either. Maybe there was something there; maybe there wasn't.

"Well, I want you to know that you can come to me anytime you need someone to talk to," she told him with a sincere tone. "Think of me like a priest ... or a doctor. Total confidentiality. Anything you tell me stays with me and only me. I won't tell anyone ... not Desmond, not Ms. Kingsley. Okay?"

If Tyrelle had nothing more to say, Paula would wish him a good day and remind him that there was going to be another trek to the north of the island. "It's going to be an overnighter probably. I don't know if that interests you. Could be fun. Of course, we might get eaten by Komodo dragons or kidnapped by pirates, too."

Day 2: Sunrise

" [...] you can come to me anytime you need someone to talk to [...] "

Tyrelle had heard this and similar phrasings thereof more than a few times in his years since being rescued, from his therapist to teachers, and even his friends; his partners back home were probably the most noteworthy of those, however. At first, he had feared the words. Feared them. He often worried about speaking through his troubles with others, concerned that they would be upset with him in one way or another. It had taken him around six months or more to talk to his therapist about something other than how he was sleeping, eating, exercising, and socializing. Before actually opening up to the professional about the things he'd seen, the things he'd been through, he had always worried that it wasn't his place to dump all of that on someone, regardless or not of whether it was their job. The feeling only intensified when it came to those who weren't being paid to listen to him cry, especially when those people were people he was supposed to impress in one way or another.

Tyrelle may not have had any interest in joining the recon team of his own accord, but he still knew that Paula was his superior in that regard, and the last thing he wanted to do was lead her to think he was at all unfit for the position Desmond had mapped out for him. Besides that, he'd grown to understand that most people really only said things like that because it was what was expected of them by society. He didn't know Paula, didn't know how to read her at all, she was...different...and that made it difficult for him to get any sense of what kind of person she truly was. All that in mind, he assumed she didn't actually want to talk to him about things which were bothering him, and rather, just wanted to be on the lookout for any indication that he wasn't fit to fulfill his duty.

As such, Tyrelle gave no verbal response to the interim chief at her offer of confidence, and merely only nodded as he looked, shifting his weight once more in a still step back, as though considering leaving right then and there. Perhaps that was what had triggered her to mention the trek that would be taking place later that day. He laughed at her words about komodo dragons and pirates and joked along with her by saying, "Oh man, you had me at komodo," before his smile faded once more and he let out a soft sigh before tacking on "Though...if I'm being honest, ma'am, I think I might sit this trek out... I...I uh, I'd rather make myself busy around the camp while we're still here...I mean, someone's gotta fend off the pirates if they show up on the beach, right?" he tried to joke again, but the words were tight and awkward, "I guess what I'm saying, ma'am," he started again, "Is I think I'd be better suited to watching over things here than gallivanting off in the jungle...overnight...when ya'll'll already have Desmond with ya."

---

Day 2: Sunrise; Med Tent Alpha

The medical tent was more or less silent as Dr. Biermann quietly made his rounds. Checking over charts and vitals and the supplies. By God, did he check over the supplies. Every time his path led him over to the various carts and containers and everything else that housed their supplies, he checked, counting again and again and again and again. Every time, he knew the numbers hadn't changed, but every time he found himself counting once again before having to force himself away. Their stock was limited, it would not grow over time, they couldn't simply make more at this point. They had to be wise, and careful, and most of all frugal...but what did any of that even matter when he couldn't even think?
He had pushed the pain off long enough. He had fought his craving, his desire, his need for longer than he could even be sure anymore. Making one last round through the tent, ensuring, absolutely, that none of the patients yet were awake, and listening carefully to hear if anyone else was coming, finally, finally, the doctor made his way over to the supplies once more. This time, however, he didn't count. He knew the numbers. He knew exactly where everything was. Most importantly, however, he knew what was least likely to be noticed first should anyone actually find it missing, and which would be the most easily explainable as well. Two little pills. Just two little pills. A typical dose. It wouldn't be hard to convince anyone who questioned it that the dosing had simply failed to be recorded when given to a patient during the rush of things.
Chasing the tablets with a swig of water, he stood for a moment by the place he had gotten them, staring at the box as though it glowed with an energy that screamed of what he'd done. Quickly, he finished off the bottle, crushing it in his fist before finally, finally, making his way out of the tent in search of anyone willing to relieve him of his station. Hopefully, the medication would help him to finally get some rest...

Day 2: Sunrise

"...I think I might sit this trek out..." Tyrelle told Paula. He talked about his desire to remain in the camp as opposed to spending the night in the jungle. "ya'll'll already have Desmond with ya."

Paula was unsure as to whether the teen's decision was more about not wanting to spend the night out in the unfamiliar and potentially dangerous island or wanting to be away from his adoptive father. She simply didn't know Tyrelle well enough to know that, too.

"That's perfectly fine, Tyrelle," she told him. "We need someone capable to keep an eye on the camp, too."

She hoped her compliment of him being capable would help him feel more confident in his feelings that she was someone he could come to with his troubles. "When Ms. Kingsley ... she prefers Carol, so ... when Carol returns with Desmond--"

"You were saying...?" a voice called out from not too far off. When Paula looked to the source of the voice, she found Carol and Desmond approaching, returning from their own little walk away from the camp. The Coordinator looked to the teen, smiled, and said with delight, "Good morning, Tyrelle. Nice to see you up and around and looking good. I heard you took a little tumble yesterday when you happened into our fresh water source."

She offered a hand out to him; regardless of his youth, Carol saw him as a man as worthy of respect as any other on the island. She talked to him briefly about his medical check upon returning the night before; one of Biermann's subordinates had looked at Tyrelle's scraps and bruises and declared him free of broken or cracked bones.

"Tyrelle and I have been talking about his place on the Security Team," Paula began, wanting to establish things regarding the teen before anyone suggested something that might oppose Tyrelle's wish and her own approval of said wish. She looked directly at the teen's guardian as she continued, "You performed well yesterday, Desmond. I'd like you to come with me as my Second on today's trek if you're interested."

Paula glanced at Carol for any sign of disapproval, and seeing nothing continued. "Tyrelle also did well as we all know. I'm impressed with him, too ... enough so that I want him to watch over the camp while Desmond and I and four others return to the clearing, then head northeast to see if we can't find the north shore of the island."

She was looking at Desmond now, wondering what his reaction would be to her splitting him and Tyrelle up for a day or more. She didn't give him a chance to respond, though, before continuing, "Craig Wetheral will actually be in charge of Camp Security, you know, because of Tyrelle's age. Can't very well put a teen in charge of the whole camp, of course..."

Paula reached a hand to Tyrelle's shoulder, giving him a reassuring pat while smiling to him and finishing, "...but he'll be my Number Two while I'm away."

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Carol quickly agreed. She wasn't entirely sure what Paula was working at, but she had confidence and trust in the woman. Carol looked to the teen's adoptive father, asking, "How's that work with you, Desmond. Can you bear to be without Tyrelle's company for a day and night and day again?"

Carol chuckled, adding, "I don't know about you, but most parents could stand to have a little time away from their teenagers on occasion."

Again, before Desmond had a chance to respond, someone else spoke up. A third female voice called out from nearby, "Carol! There you are! I've been looking all over for you."

The small group conversing about security and treks through the jungle turned to find a beautiful young woman jogging through the dry sand toward them. She came to a stop near them, jumping immediately into an explanation about supplies that had only this morning been found down the beach, washed up after initially being lost in the surf.

As she was talking to Carol, though, the young beauty had been making quick glances at Tyrelle while also trying -- but failing -- to hide a flirty smile. The Mission Coordinator caught this and -- thinking that perhaps the men didn't know the young woman -- quickly made introductions, "Desmond and Tyrelle D'Vaughnt ... let me introduce you to Penelope Jones."

Quickly, the young woman quickly corrected, "Penny! Everyone calls me Penny." She offered her hand out to the older male, and after she shared a rather standard handshake, she offered her hand to the younger male and repeated with a softer, more intimate tone, "Please ... call me Penny."

If Tyrelle took her hand as she hoped, Penny wouldn't be so quick to release her grip as she had been with his father. Oh, she wasn't openly flirting with the young man, but ... she also wasn't ripping her hand back as if she thought he might be carrying the plague.

"Penny here is one of our Volunteer Interns," Carol continued.

"I just completed my BSW -- Bachelor's of Social Work -- and another in African Studies," Penny expanded on her boss's explanation, [color=orange]"and now I'm working on two Master's simultaneously ... Displaced Population Assistance and Relief Management."

Penny had mostly been looking at Tyrelle as she'd been talking, though, she also Desmond a glance or two to make him feel as though he was part of the conversation. She giggled before adding, "Basically, I want to be the new and improved Carol Kingsley someday."

Both Carol and Paula laughed, with the former saying, "It'll happen soon enough, I'm sure." She looked between Desmond and Tyrelle as she said, "Penny is only 21, but she already knows more about serving refugees than I ever did."

"Not true!" the younger woman said, laughing. She looked back to Carol, talking a moment more about the new supplies that had been located, then looked back to Tyrelle, smiled -- this time flirtatiously -- and very boldly said, "I could use a pair of strong arms to help me move them. They're still clear down at the other end of the beach."

To be honest, Penny didn't really need another pair of hands; there were already two people down at the find, poking through the four boxes to look for damage. But she'd seen Tyrelle before and had found him handsome, despite his youth -- she didn't realize that he was only 17, of course.

The other two women said nothing, only waiting to see what would come of this invitation, as well as of the earlier conversation about Tyrelle remaining at the camp while his father went trekking off into the jungle.

Day 2: Near Med Tent Alpha

Samantha Wilson was just leaving Bravo Tent and heading for the very nearby Alpha when she saw Dr. Biermann emerging the latter. She stopped to study him a moment; to the best of her knowledge, he hadn't slept since the crash almost a day and a half ago, spending that time caring in one way or another for the nearly one-third of the survivors who had suffered everything from scraped and bruises to compound fractures to -- in the case of Jenny Taylor -- life ending internal bleeding.

He had an expression on his face now that Samantha found hard to decipher. It almost looked like relief, though, she wouldn't have any idea from where that relief might have come. Perhaps it was the fact that following Jenny's tragic death, there were no more critical patients; everyone left was expected to survive, though, some with broken bones wouldn't be walking or performing laborious tasks for a while and others would be living with pain in their backs, necks, and other areas for days, weeks, or months to come.

"Doctor Biermann," Samantha said quietly as she approached him from out of his line of sight. When he looked to her, which she noted wasn't immediately, she smiled to him and said with a soft tone, "You should get some rest. Really, you've been up for 36 hours. You need sleep."

She gestured off toward one of the smaller tents, one erected specifically for the Medical Staff. "There's a bed in the back corner that's been waiting for you. I'll let the rest of the Staff know not to disturb you. We have this handled, really. You've already fixed the bad stuff, you and Annelise."

The two doctors -- both surgeons -- had repaired limbs and torsos and heads, and now the only work left to do was monitor vitals, change bandages, and watch for unforeseen issues such as clots, fevers, and such. Referring to the other Nurse who'd survived the crash, Samantha told Biermann, "Robert and I have this handled, really. Go get some rest. Doctor Jennings managed to get her eyes closed a few hours ago. If we need a Doctor, we're to wake her."

Day 2: Sunrise; outside the Medical tents

Dr. Biermann stopped rather abruptly when Samantha approached him, the way she had managed to come from just outside his line of vision making it seem as though she had come from nowhere at all, and one could say the doctor was startled by the sudden interaction. He took a moment to internally curse himself for being so jumpy, squeezing the bottle still in his hand so it made a few soft, crackling pops before eventually allowing himself to relax with a soft sigh. In a moment, he turned, setting his weary gaze on the woman as he forced a smile.

"Thank you, Ms. Wilson," he responded when she finished informing him that conditions were finally allowing him to get some well-deserved rest. His voice was as even and precise as always as he gave a short nod, "I think I may finally act on that offer." A light chuckle escaped the man, not exactly common for him in any sense, but it was nice to hear nonetheless before he went on to let the nurse know that he had just finished the rounds for 6:15 ─ he didn't think it important to mention that he had frantically been repeating those rounds all morning ─ and had checked the supplies to ensure there was no loss of damage in the hours since their initial rundown of what was salvaged.

"Everything should run on its own for at least a few hours from here," he told her, "but, please, if anything urgent does arise, do get Dr. Jennings as soon as possible. I should only be gone until afternoon; if I'm not awake by lunch, do have someone wake me," he paused, and as though it were an afterthought, added a simple, "Please?"

---

Day 2: Sunrise; "Kitchen"

Over the course of their conversation, Desmond had prattled on and on to the mission coordinator, speaking quite a bit about his and his team's successful trek. It was almost as though it were an effort for him to include the contributions of Tyrelle and their third member ─ the man he still hadn't bothered to catch the name of...it started with an H, perhaps, and surely had more than one vowel, but who knew for certain, certainly not Desmond ─ Eventually, he did have to admit that it was Tyrelle who stumbled across the creek but seemed to fall back on the 'forced' concept that it was a 'team effort' as he became insistent that the boy would have never found the source of water if he as the team lead hadn't sent Tyrelle in the direction he had. It appeared it was rather difficult for Desmond to be humble.

When they met back up with Paula and Tyrelle, he took up his spot close to the boy, setting a hand on his shoulder for just a moment before pulling away when all it seemed to do was make the older teen tense up. As Paula went on about this and that, bringing in the concept of having Tyrelle remain at the camp on the beach while he himself served as the security chief's second on the mission, he remained silent, only ever giving a nod to show his approval of what was being asked, as well as, of course, that he was listening. Throughout, there was certainly a part of him that wanted to argue. He wasn't keen to the idea of Tyrelle 'lazing' about camp, as he saw it, especially when he knew full well that the boy was more than capable of serving on the overnight trek. Oh sure, Paula could call it keeping guard to make it seem like more than it was, but in his eyes, Desmond felt that it was simply a waste of the boy's potential. Still, he wasn't about to argue with his superior, and so, with a hard-forced smile, he finally responded, when given the chance, threading an almost natural chuckle into his voice as he spoke, "Of course, I can bear it," he told them, "It wouldn't be the first night Tyrelle has been away from me. After all, as you pointed out, he is a teenager; the boy has a life of his own!"

--

Tyrelle was about to chip in himself before a new face approached their circle. When she insisted on the name Penny, as opposed to Penelope as she'd been introduced, Tyrelle repeated the name quietly with a nod, his hand lingering with hers just as long as her own grip remained. It was probably the first time since crashing on the island that he hadn't rejected someone's physical contact; even when it came to the doctors and nurses, it was obvious that he was very reluctant in allowing himself to be touched at all.
He listened, all the while nodding as Penny spoke of her studies. He was amazed, really, and it showed in his face, along with a small 'wow' that escaped his lips at some point, though he wasn't sure if anyone had actually noticed it. The fact that Penny was 21 didn't bother him at all, not only were two of his partners back home already 19 and 20, but he, too, would be 18 fairly soon, his birthday right around the corner, which had been one of the primary reasons he hadn't wanted to go on the C-130 mission. Like any teen coming to adulthood in the eyes of the law, he wanted to spend such a special birthday with the people who were closest to him and celebrate his newfound freedom. After his birthday, he'd planned to move out of Desmond's care to move in with a couple of his partners; they'd already found an apartment and everything, and Tyrelle had even had a part-time job lined up to help pay rent while he finished out his studies. Of course...none of that mattered anymore, Desmond had made sure of that.

Smiling, Tyrelle nodded at Penny's request for help and said, "Sure, sure, yeah, let's do it!" then cleared his throat before seeming to correct himself as he added, "Of course, Miss Penny, I'd love to be of assistance; just lead the way."

---

Day 2: Sunrise; Beach

It wasn't common for Jae-Seong Moon to up at dawn. Hell, anyone who knew the man knew very well that it wasn't even common for him to be up before lunch. Even back in college, when it had come to his classes in school Jae-Seong had rarely actually attended his morning classes, and made it by on top work and tests alone. If ever there was a time that Jae-Seong was up with the sun, it usually meant that he had been up the whole night working on whatever project he had going on at the moment. Thankfully, such wasn't the case here. Jae-Seong had slept through at least most of the night, but he had risen far before dawn and got to work on his project ahead. After checking that his phone was well-charged and the stand on the hard case was still intact, he made no hesitance in trekking his way down the beach to a secluded area where he would be able to catch the sunrise.
With his phone set up on a mostly unremarkable rockpile by the shore, steadily filming the rising sun over the watery horizon, Jae-Seong sat lotus style in the sand, scribbling away in a pocket-sized notebook the things he wanted to incorporate into the documentary. He'd decided on a few...changes to his original direction of simply capturing the facts. With the crew's newfound predicament, he wanted to make things a little more personal. He wanted to borrow from various reality shows, and the main thing he wanted to incorporate was having regular interviews with the other survivors. A means to get a glimpse into the minds of the crew members and understand their feelings towards their...situation...
He was busy writing up the first questions he planned to ask whoever was willing to participate, occasionally pulling from a bag of trail mix he'd snatched. He would have liked some coffee as well in that moment, but the mixture of nuts and berries was enough to give him the little bit of energy he needed to write. Besides, he was very particular about his coffee, and he already knew from the previous day that the instant crap they had available was, in his mind, inconsumable.

Day 2: Sunrise - Med Staff Tent

Annelise had had a night that seemed to stretch on forever, even though she finally got to bed at around 3 am. She checked up on all the patients and also James a few times, both when he was awake and when he wasn’t. She had taken a liking to him; her first friend she supposed. And that was okay. Being on this island, it’s not like she’d get told to keep the doctor/patient relationship strictly professional. But when she finally got to close her eyes to the world for the night, the dreams—or rather nightmares—began...

”You’re already thinking of another man, aren’t you, Annie?" His voice echoed from seemingly everywhere around her. ”He’s not even well enough to stand on his own two feet and you already want to get him in bed."

Marcus’ voice carried a harsh, accusatory tone. The voice was his, that much was undeniable. But those words, Marcus would never say that to her, not when she had only found a friend whom she simply felt comfortable around. Annelise tried to respond to his remarks but he kept speaking over her. ”I see I wasn’t enough for you. First my brother, then him?"

”No, it’s not like that Marcus!"

A few seconds passed and the silence remained. ”Marcus?!"

Her subconscious was riddled with guilt. Annelise sat up in bed momentarily before slowly walking to the entrance of the tent. There, she stood just looking out at nothing in particular with a blank expression on her face. Yet another sleepwalking episode.