“Come on, work, dammit… Anyone?! Do you copy?!… Shit…" …[STATIC]…

The heat on your face was almost excruciating, coupled with a lancing headache. The last thing you remembered was the storm last night, lashing violently against the boat you and your rescuer, Keegan, escaped with before it being almost completely tattered against the rocks bordering the adjacent island. You thought neither one of you would survive but miraculously you did. You finally opened your eyes to see Keegan perched on a rock with his radio, half-dressed, sweating and scuffed, trying to get it to work as you sat up slowly. As far as your eyes could see, it was just the ocean and not another piece of land for miles. Your surroundings were just scattered sea brush, a dense little forest in the middle, palm trees and rocky surfaces that stretched out into the rough waters, but it was unclear whether this was hostile territory or not. Keegan managed to pull a few supplies from the wreckage while you were unconscious, neatly packed in a dry enough area.

You weren’t the one he was meant to rescue and as he looked your way, it became more apparent in his blatant staring as his brows stitched together. You were a baggage he didn’t need—a liability, but under those blue orbs, he remained stoic and calculating, studying your every movement like a hawk. “Finally, you’re awake. Do you want the bad news or the worst news first?” he asked in a low gruffed tone.