Stranded

By: Ophelia

 

Authors note: This is a finished piece and Ronnee, who gave me a bunny when I needed one and wanted something like this, had decided that she would like it to end right here. Many thanks to Ronnee for the idea and the quick once over, all mistakes left are mine.

* * *

The waves hit the sand once more and Blair looked out onto the peaceful ocean. So this was what his hell looked liked. This was where he would spend his last days on earth, in a paradise he could not enjoy. The sun was setting and he decided to see it through before heading back to his make shift hut. Nighttime was not normally dangerous, but the night here was so dark on the nights with no full moon it was just not advisable for anyone to walk about without a flashlight.

A flashlight. There was a novel item. Hungry, tired and slightly burned, he sat looking at the setting sun, thinking about flashlights. There had to be an irony there somewhere. In the morning he would wake early and try to catch some fish once more. His crude rod might just come through for him. It was at least worth a try.

The sky turned to a yellow-orange hue as the red began to brighten on the horizon. It was magnificent. The site of the waves against the red sky and the setting sun. The few rock formations that scattered the beach darkened and looking sharper in the sun's light and shadow. It was a masterpiece for Mother Nature; one that Jim would have really enjoyed.

Standing, he made his way in the now waning light to the hut for some much needed rest. Jim, he just needed to hang in there long enough for Jim to figure out where he was. He had to. The bastards that put him on this island had to have left some sort of records as to where he was.

Once Jim found them, he would find him; he just needed to hold out that long.

Closing his eyes against the tears that started to form, he thought back to that night. He had been walking back to their hotel after a police conference in Las Vegas. Out of nowhere a van had pulled up and something hard hit his head. The images always got fuzzy after that. A dark room, a hard chair, muffled voices complaining that they had to pay and that he would be a sign. His head exploding in pain and throbbing with the beat of his heart. The next thing he remembered was waking up on the beach, water hitting his feet up to his knees.

He didn't even know who those people were that put him here.

Pulling himself together he settled for the night and put that behind him. It didn't matter how he had gotten here or why they had dumped him here. The point was; he was here and if he didn't play it smart he was going to die in this paradise of sand, blue water and sun. Right now he needed to ensure he would have food and water to last for a while. The jungle of the island did not bother him, the fact that he had to walk for half a day to find water did. With nothing to carry a plentiful

supply of water back to his base at the beach meant that he had to make more trips away from the shore and potentially miss any rescue boat.

But they would come, of that he was sure. And as he closed his eyes, he dreamed of Cascade once more. Of the loft and his bed. Of his friends and of his work.

His sentinel would find him; of that he was very sure.

The End