╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗
— DAY TWELVE —
season one, episode six, part two

❝𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨...❞

─── • ───

Blaire and Toni had finally kissed.

And it was a huge mistake, a mistake that could only make life on a deserted island a lot more difficult...

But it was a mistake Blaire wholeheartedly wanted to make, a mistake she wanted to keep making again and again. She brought her fingertips to her lips as she walked along the beach, almost as if she could still feel Toni's lips against hers, still taste the sweetness on her tongue. And, as reality set in, Blaire had no idea how she was going to get herself out of this one. Because fuck, she didn't want to get herself out of it.

It felt like it all happened both in slow-motion and in hyper-speed; their mouths were somehow against each other for both an eternity and half a second. And Blaire could only get lost in her own thoughts, wondering aimlessly about should-have's and what-if's.

But, she knew, of course, that the what-if's and the should-have's would only fuck her up even more, because that was exactly what she had warned Leah about when Jeanette's body went missing.

God, why couldn't she listen to her own advice?

Because, in all honesty, a part of Blaire was now conflicted. Part of her hated this. Hated everything about it, except for the way her stomach twisted into knots whenever she even thought back to her kiss on the beach with Toni. Blaire was on edge, her thoughts never wandering uncontrollably. She felt like she hadn't really had the time to process the kiss at all.

But she knew she definitely didn't regret it.

How could she, exactly? Because, whether she wanted to admit it or not, Blaire couldn't stop thinking about Toni. She kept feeling like she couldn't breathe properly unless Toni was around, like when they were together the universe shrunk down to the size the of the island, small and secretive, just for the two of them. She kept thinking about the taste of her lips, and the feeling of Toni's hands around her waist, and the sound of her laugh, and the way her breath hitched right before they were about to kiss —

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Blaire kept mumbling under her breath, and she felt some of the tension leave her body. The air around her seemed to have changed; instead of thick and anxious, it had turned into something almost anticipatory. Tangible, even. Like if she were to have reached out, she could touch it.

The burn of her legs as she walked along the beach was a welcomed reprieve, finally having something to rid the endless barrage of thoughts she'd been carrying in her head. For the first time since she'd arrived on the island, Blaire wished that she could escape to the dance studio to let off some steam. Because, at least, it would give her hands something to do other than being awkwardly still at her sides, and the selfish part of her brain would hopefully stop thinking of their plane crash as some sort fated thing that brought her and Toni together.

Fuck.

As much of a complete nightmare being stranded on a deserted island was, it would be a lie to say that Blaire wasn't partially grateful it happened. But it was an absolutely insane thought, one the others would probably ridicule her for even speaking into existence. Blaire felt herself spiralling into insanity as her mind wandered. She never could've imagined that the way she'd been feeling on the island had been real —

God, she was going to be sick.

Blaire was so lost in her thoughts that she almost collided into Martha, who was folding clean laundry by their makeshift clothesline that Dot had set up, and she stumbled over her own feet in a last-second attempt to catch herself. Martha, after having seen Blaire approaching, dropped what she was doing and reached out to help steady the dancer on her feet.

"Woah! You okay, B?" Martha asked with a comforting smile, and Blaire snapped back into consciousness at the sound, but her heart was still racing, her breath caught somewhere in her throat.

"What? Oh, yeah, sorry!" Blaire shook her head, trying to dispel her nerves. "I was, uh..." She took a breath, "just coming to see if you needed any help."

Martha's smile faltered a little, and she stared at her, unconvinced. "Yeah, sure, that'd be great!" She replied after a moment, and she handed Blaire one of Fatin's designer blouses to fold. There was a brief moment of silence that allowed Blaire to gather her thoughts, and then, just as quickly, Martha said, "So... how's Toni?"

Blaire's cheeks burned. Had she been that obvious?

"What...?"

"You went to talk to her, didn't you? About the whole Shelby thing?" Martha asked with an eyebrow raised, and Blaire felt her lungs start to fill with air again. "Is she... is she okay?" She pressed on, doing a wellness check on her best friend even despite their argument.

"Yeah... I think so, all things considered," Blaire shrugged her shoulders in response, and just like that, Toni was on her mind again. "We didn't, like, talk too much about it, honestly."

Because, of course, they'd been too busy — STOP!

Martha's face softened with sympathy, and if she hadn't turned to pull more clothes down from the clothesline, she would've seen a subtle pink flush on Blaire's cheeks.

"Thanks for doing that. Talking to her, I mean. I don't know what I would've said if it were me." She confessed, which was kind, and also a lie because Martha knew Toni better than anyone. Her face was still edged with a worry, and she whispered, "Because what can you say, you know? Toni's always had a problem with Shelby, and I feel like such an idiot, because I defended her, and now this happens..." She trailed off, her eyes fixated on the ground sadly, a paleness to her skin. "So I guess Toni was right, huh? And I'm officially the worst best friend ever."

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself," Blaire bumped their elbows together gently, a kind gesture that the Native-American girl appreciated. "The only thing you're guilty of is trying to see the best in people." She told her with a heartfelt smile, "And that's not necessarily a bad thing, Martha. But it just sucks when they don't turn out how you expected them to be, you know? It's no one's fault, really. It's just how it is."

Martha shrugged, shoulders tight. "Yeah, and it sucks."

"That's an understatement, honestly," Blaire chuckled, low and raspy. She hesitated, like she wasn't sure the best way to put her next thoughts into words, before she sighed, and said, "But, if it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one who was disappointed with how things went down back there."

Martha's eyes were wide and earnest, "You too?"

"Yeah," Blaire confessed, in a low voice, and just like that, she was struck by just how quickly everything had fallen apart earlier, how Shelby was able to destroy everything they'd built with a single sentence.

And it hurt.

Because Blaire had grown to like Shelby, but in that moment, she felt too much judgment coming from the blonde not to create some sort of distance.

And the silence that stretched between the two of them told Blaire that Martha was in complete agreement. They continued to fold the laundry in a quiet form of solidarity, offering each other reassurance, just by being in the presence of one another. However, just as the last few t-shirts were pulled from the clothesline, and Blaire was sure she'd finally cleared her head, the crunch of gravel caught her attention, and the voice of the last person she'd wanted to see sounded over that of the ocean waves.

"Hey," Shelby had awkwardly approached them with smile, but Blaire found that she could barely hear her over the blood suddenly roaring in her ears, because for the first time since they'd sat around the campfire, Shelby was stood in front of her, looking so much like the bible-thumper Blaire had assumed her to be all those days ago that it felt like a blow to the chest. "Need a hand?" She asked, gesturing to the clothes.

"No," Martha answered at once, sounding a little harsh, before Blaire finally jerked herself out of the storm of her thoughts. "We don't need your help."

Blaire hadn't thought to respond, nor spare a glance in the blonde's direction. She knew that Shelby was only looking for company after what had happened, and while Blaire knew she'd come to her because she considered them to be close, Blaire hadn't felt like talking to her. Because that would've made it seem like things were okay, and that was the farthest thing from the truth.

There was a mixture of emotions stirring within her, and Blaire was unsure of how to respond to Shelby without losing her temper, without creating a scene. Still, she could feel Shelby's eyes on the side of her face, fidgety and nervous, and Blaire inhaled deeply before shaking her head, not bothering to watch as Shelby's face fell upon realization. She could feel the tension swarming them, as if suffocating them with a thick air. Blaire merely shrugged it off and walked to the shore to wash more of their clothes in the water, leaving Martha and Shelby in a silent stand-off.

"I don't want to jinx it," Shelby tried to ease the tension with a giggle, and Blaire heard it behind her, as if Shelby had followed her to the shore of the beach. "But I've been getting this feeling, like, intuition wise, that rescue's gonna be here real soon." And this time, when both Martha and Blaire ignored her, Shelby frowned and reached for the dancer's wrist, spinning her around, before she asked, "Blaire, what's wrong?"

And then, as soon as Blaire looked into Shelby's eyes, the Texan had immediately regretted the question. She watched Blaire's eyes go wide in something like surprise, or anger even, and Blaire pressed her lips into a thin, inscrutable line. "Seriously?" She scoffed, taking Shelby by surprise, yanking her wrist out of the blonde's grasp. "What's wrong is that you can't think the way you do."

Shelby exhaled and crossed her arms over her chest, before she said, "Okay, I kinda knew this was coming."

"I'm fucking serious, Shelby," Blaire glared at her, her frustration mounting, and Martha heard their voices raising and started to walk towards them. "You can't have a problem with someone over who they are."

"And over something they can't even change," Martha voiced her displeasure, in her own way, as she approached, and while Blaire knew that the Native-American girl was just trying to help, she felt so on edge and claustrophobic already that Martha's stance in solidarity alongside her turned to confining chains around her, caging her in further.

"Okay, so what? I can't fucking accept everybody!" Shelby exclaimed heatedly, and if Blaire wasn't so infuriated herself, she would've been surprised. "But I do try to love them. Every damn person, I try so hard, even when they don't make it easy." She took a step closer to Blaire, a challenging step. "Look me in the eye, Blaire, and tell me that I don't at least do that!"

"Spare me the 'love thy neighbour' bullshit," Blaire spat in response, her face now white as a sheet, her shoulders tight and rigid by her ears. "Because if that were even remotely were true, you'd wake the fuck up and realize that these outdated principles are alienating people who have no choice in who they love. Times have changed. The world is more diverse. And at the end of the day, we're all just trying to figure things out. So keep using your religion as an excuse if it helps you feel better about yourself, Shelby, but we both know that, underneath all that bible-thumping bullshit, is someone who has the ability to be better than that."

Shelby flinched slightly at Blaire's brusque tone of voice, and she shifted her weight from one leg to the other awkwardly. She was staring at Blaire almost like a lost puppy, unsure of what to say or do to fix things. Her hands were twisted in front of her like she was trying to stop herself from reaching out for the dancer in front of her.

When Shelby finally looked up and met Blaire's gaze again, there was something beseeching in her eyes, silently pleading. "Blaire, that's not what I —"

"That's exactly what you meant," Blaire didn't give her the chance to finish, a sigh escaping her lips. "And it's not okay. Not now, not ever. So just figure your shit out because, in case you haven't noticed, this island is crawling with queers."

"It's much more complicated than that," Shelby gripped the gold cross hanging by the hollow of her throat. "My parents would —"

Blaire's delicate scoff was instantaneous. "They're not here!" She exhaled, and the truth hurt more than she expected it to. Her voice cracked as she continued, "And no one here is stopping you from being who you want to be. But you're going to have to make that decision yourself, because we can't make it for you."

Shelby didn't respond. She kept her gaze down, twirling the gold chain around her neck once, twice again. The silence must've stretched on too long, because Shelby looked away from Blaire, abruptly, unable to meet her eyes now, and Blaire suspected it was more from embarrassment than shame.

And so, unable to bear the idea that Shelby felt that way, before she could even really think, Blaire went to open her mouth again before Martha, quiet and forgotten in the heat of the moment, had beaten her to it.

"Guys," Blaire turned at the sound of the urgency in her voice, surprised by how pale and weak the Native-American now looked in the midday sunlight. "This whole thing makes me..." She trailed off, and before either of them had any idea what was happening, Martha dropped to her knees and began vomiting onto the sand, an ironic reaction to the otherwise vile and bigoted beliefs.

"Martha!"

Blaire moved faster than Shelby, placing both of her hands on Martha's shoulders in an attempt to stem any collapse of hope, to hold her hair up as she puked her guts out onto the sand. Her and Shelby, now at Martha's side, both watched in anticipation of the terror they knew stood every chance of arising.

But before she could even mutter words of comfort to Martha and her abrupt sickness, a sudden feeling of nausea had also swirled in Blaire's stomach at the sight. She took a step back in attempt to control the bile rising in her throat, the sweat breaking through by her temples in an abrupt wave of sickness.

Shelby, who was concerned for the vomiting Martha, shifted her eyes to where Blaire had drifted off to and she watched as the New Yorker, too, fell to her knees.

Fuck, fuck, fuck...

The contents of what little her stomach had consumed that morning was soon emptied onto the sand, and Blaire doubled over as she looked to Shelby, pleading with her eyes as she gagged uncontrollably as if struck by a sudden flu-like epidemic.

And, unbeknownst to the three of them by the makeshift clothesline, Martha and Blaire were not the only ones effected, either.

The sickness came out of the nowhere, abrupt and dangerous, and each of the girls had been scattered along the beach, hacking up the mussels they'd eaten just hours before; some were laid flat out on the sand, others were struggling to maintain consciousness. All of them, except Shelby, of course, had suffered under the extreme heat, battling not only starvation and exhaustion but extreme food poisoning.

In the midst of the mass hysteria, Blaire thought back, ironically, to how excited they had been to have found food in the wilderness after days of surviving off of nothing but macadamia nuts. She thought, and even hoped, that it was a victory for her and the other eight girls stranded on that island who had been deprived of one for almost two weeks —

And then, just like that, chaos ensued, like a slap in the face just when they thought they'd finally won.

─── • ───

Ten minutes became ten-and-a-half. Which, just as quickly, became fifteen. The girls had each stumbled back towards the campsite in search of help, coughing uncontrollably and spewing vomit onto the sand.

Blaire made no conscious decision to spare herself the headache of involvement. She only held on tightly to Shelby's shoulder as the blonde dragged her and Martha towards the others, each of them varying in degrees of sickness. Blaire's body practically collapsed on top of Fatin, who didn't even have it that bad, all things considered, which was probably a good thing, because the other girls couldn't exactly say the same.

Dot looked the most well put together, with Fatin probably a close second. The redhead, being the most level-headed of the group, was going frantic as she searched for the pilot's medicine bag. Leah sat next to her, still looking feverish, almost as if she wasn't completely there. Rachel and Nora were together, both looking equally horrible.

And then, there were Toni and Martha.

Both of them had consumed majority of the mussels that afternoon, so it came as no surprise that they were diagnosed as the sickest, but Blaire's heart was still racing with fear regardless. Because the whole thing seemed like a blur. Blaire couldn't even lift her head from Fatin's shoulder long enough to make sure Toni was okay as she came crawling over, unable to form a coherent word as her stomach emptied itself.

Martha, at least, was holding herself together.

But Toni was sprawled in her lap, looking like she might just die at any moment, and the mere thought terrified Blaire more than she was prepared to admit.

There was a fear that began gnawing away at Blaire's stomach, a feeling that was still distinguishable apart from the food poisoning, and it was almost worse than the guilt residing deep in her chest. Toni's eyes were vacant, her chest was heaving, and as she claimed a towel in the shade next to Martha, her body became weaker with each passing second.

Blaire shuddered, and her distorted vision was fixated only on Toni, her thoughts becoming rampant, unruly.

Because if Toni died, she knew it would be her fault. Because she shouldn't have just left her on the beach after the kiss, and she should've stayed to talk with her some more, and she hated herself for how things ended, and she knew it was her fault somehow —

"Come on, girl. Help me out," Fatin's urgent whispers drew Blaire from her storm of thoughts, and the Pakistani-American girl begged her friend to stay hydrated, tilting her head back to force water down her throat. "Swallow. Swallow, bitch," She instructed, and as soon as the water hit the back of Blaire's throat, she coughed it back up. "God, you see what you made me do? You made me sound like a rapey frat bro."

Blaire would've usually laughed at Fatin's attempt to lighten the mood, but she couldn't take her eyes off of Toni's unconscious body long enough to even think of anything else. She lifted her head slightly towards Fatin, who cradled Blaire in her arms, and gathered the strength to whisper, "Is she... is she okay?"

The silence that hung in the air was deafening, and Blaire could tell that Martha had also been dreading the answer, for the Native-American girl could only cling on tighter to Toni's motionless body, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes.

Fatin hesitated, unsure of how to tell Blaire the truth.

But there was no need for an audible answer, because Fatin's face was probably the most serious Blaire had ever seen it, knowing yet unsure, like a deer caught in headlights, and that expression told Blaire everything she needed to know.

And, in the silence, Blaire felt her entire world stop.

Toni was not okay.

None of them were okay.

─── • ───

More time passed, slow as molasses in January. Blaire's lips parted as she forced herself to sit up in the sand and drink some more water, her eyes glancing around the beach. She wiped at the sweat beading on her face, just to do something with her hands, while Fatin's dark eyes carefully watched her every move.

Her nausea had subsided ever so slightly, enough to allow her to gather her strength, and yet, an awful feeling still lingered in her chest as Fatin flashed her what was meant to be a reassuring smile, and Blaire had to try really hard not to let it show on her face.

Martha and Toni were still struggling a few yards away, with Fatin sat beside them, trying her best to help maintain their consciousness. Dot and Leah were standing out in the shallow water together. Nora and Rachel were no longer in sight, after having isolated themselves alone somewhere, and Shelby was fussing over boiling more water as if it would somehow make up for what she had said earlier.

Blaire sprawled out on her back, ignoring the way it drew Toni's weak eyes to her. She stared up at the clear blue sky and prayed to whatever God that would listen that this whole thing would end without anything really bad happening. And sure, maybe it wasn't a real prayer, but it was closer than anything Blaire thought she was capable of before the crash.

Please. Don't let her die. Don't them any of them die.

"Hey, B," Fatin called to her from a few yards away, almost instantly concerned. "You okay over there?"

But Blaire kept mouthing words, silently, ignoring Fatin outright. Then, as a pair of shadows casted over her, she could hear Dot and Leah approach over the crashing of the ocean waves, but one of them kept moving, into the woods, and Blaire opened her eyes.

"Look alive, won't you?" Dot hovered over Blaire, snapping her fingers to maintain her consciousness.

"Too late, I'm already dead on the inside," Blaire retorted weakly, and Dot let out a light laugh in response. The giggle that elicited from Blaire's throat, however, was muffled with another grunt, and she pressed her palm over her cramping stomach again.

"Make sure you stay hydrated —"

"I don't need you to babysit me," Blaire cut across Dot before she could finish, a wave of frustration flowing through her without reason. She exhaled shakily, "Sorry, that came out way bitchier than I meant it to. Fuck, I just — I'm fine, okay? You should look after Toni and Martha. Make sure Nora and Rachel are okay."

Dot's eyebrows raised. "And I will. But right now, you're who I'm worried about, dude."

"I'll be fine," Blaire replied, and Dot didn't have the energy in her to argue. Instead, she nodded her head, and they grinned at each other. Blaire's shoulders finally relaxed, and then, after a moment, she asked, "Where'd Leah go?"

"To find the meds," Dot informed her, signalling towards the inland forest. "You know, the pilot's bag? There's, like, antibiotics inside, and some stuff to keep the nausea in check." She pressed on, and Blaire shifted her eyes towards Toni again, her bottom lip between her teeth anxiously. Having noticed this, Dot nudged her on the shoulder with her foot, "Try to get some rest, okay? Fatin and I can hold down the fort without you, I promise."

"Is that meant to be comforting?" Blaire joked softly, laughing, and Dot flipped her off before going to tend to the others. Blaire watched Dot walk away because, redheaded chainsmoker or not, she was the one person she trusted to keep control of the situation.

In truth, Blaire didn't have much of a choice, because she felt her body shutting down quickly, weak and tired. Her thoughts were drifting again as she listened to Martha hum the lyrics to Juicy by The Notorious B.I.G., a song that her and Toni had apparently spent countless hours memorizing back home in Minnesota.

"We used to fuss when the landlord dissed us. No heat, wonder why Christmas missed us. Birthdays was the worst days, now we sip champagne when we thirsty..."

The song was meant to be a form of comfort to take their minds off of reality, and it only broke Blaire's heart more when she heard Toni continue to cough and splutter water, drowning out Martha completely.

And as the daylight faded, there was a part of Blaire that just wanted to know that Toni was going to be okay, but she tried to push that feeling aside, to no avail. She tried praying again, hoping Leah would return to save them all from their own demise.

God, where the fuck was she?

─── • ───

LEAH RILKE

Leah sat on her bed with her knees hugged to her chest. Her whole body was tense as she recalled the events of the twelfth day, a twinge of guilt erupting in her stomach for how things had played out. She was just supposed to retrieve the medicine bag from the forest, and bring it back to the others on the brink of death, but her paranoia and erratic thoughts of Shelby hadn't loosened their grip on her mind.

Before she had even stepped foot into the inland forest that afternoon, on the twelfth day, Leah had spotted Shelby lurking in the trees. She hadn't known at the time that Shelby had took it upon herself to get to the waterfall, to get them new water, because otherwise Toni and Martha would get dehydrated; no, instead, like a ticking time bomb, Leah's mind had assumed the worst.

Because why else would Shelby be in the forest, if not to contact the external force that put them on that island? In hindsight, Leah knew how crazy that sounded, but it was just too coincidental as the pieces fit together in her head; Shelby was the only one that hadn't gotten sick that day, the one who found the medicine bag on the beach...

Leah remembered how much sleep she lost over this theory of hers, even now, as she sat across from Faber in the safety of the bunker. Maybe it was because it was a better reality than being stranded on an island, or maybe it helped her feel better about what really happened with the pilot's medicine bag in the forest —

She shuddered at the recollection.

Because, by the time she'd found the pilot's bag, Leah had wasted so much time theorizing about Shelby, and following her through the woods, that the food poisoning had started to take its own toll on her body. She was dehydrated, and exhausted, and spiralling, so it came as no surprise that she'd fumbled with the bag, spilling the contents out onto the forest floor.

Leah's blood ran cold, and she managed to scoot herself closer to the edge of the bed. "I tried to pick everything back up." She confessed, in a low and shameful voice.

"You thought that you'd gotten them all?" Faber asked as he sat back in his metal chair, ready to observe her.

Leah flinched at the mention of her mistake. Her inability to retrieve all of the pills from the forest floor had still haunted her, even after all of this time. "I don't know how I let it happen." She said softly, her hands itching to reach for her brow.

"Well, I have some guesses: delirium, dehydration, gravity." Faber noted, a reassuring smile on his face that Leah would've otherwise believed under different circumstances. "Honestly, I would encourage you to go easy on yourself. Just chalk it up to tough luck." His smile faltered abruptly, then he cleared his throat, "But that wasn't your first unforced error, was it?"

Leah furrowed her brows, "What do you mean?"

"Sorry if that sounded glib, I'm a tennis fan." Faber tried to lighten to mood with a poorly executed joke, but it only succeeded in making Leah more uncomfortable. "Uh, what I meant was: an unintentional misstep on your part that proved costly. Like the phone call that you made to your friend, for example. Your emotions were running so high, if I recall, that you weren't able to make a plea for help."

"What, are you gonna throw my fuck-ups back in my face over and over?" Leah's voice wavered, a feeling of nervousness raging through her body, almost like it was impossible to sit still. "What good does that do?"

"No, no, no, no! That's not my intent at all." Faber put his hands up in a mock surrender, and the sudden movement made Leah nervous. "I'm simply trying to identify a pattern here, that's all." He exhaled again, "Your mind, Leah, it's like, uh... it's like a fog machine. It creates all this obsessive energy, this obsessive suspicion, this obsessive grief, this obsessive love, so much so that your judgment becomes clouded, and ultimately, you make mistakes..."

─── • ───

Blaire wasn't sure how long she had been sleeping, but by the time she'd awoken, at least most of the group was stable. Shelby had given them all water, smiling and hoping, praying, that she'd made the right call with that. Toni still wasn't keeping the water down though when Blaire came to, and neither was Martha.

They had all gathered in the shade by the time Leah appeared, a black bag in her arms, and Blaire offered to look after Toni, refusing to let her go as the basketball player settled on her lap, not wanting to take her eyes off of Toni for more than a second. In the distance, Dot was searching the medicine bag so anxiously, hands rifling through the contents, and something told Blaire that Toni needed more than just over-the-counter antibiotics to keep her stable.

Sure enough, Leah was racing over towards them, holding something, while Fatin tended to Martha on one side, and Blaire held onto Toni on the other. The blue-eyed girl dropped to her knees, revealing a single pill in the palm of her hand, and said, "I have meds for you," She announced, breathless. "I — I have a med."

"She's really bad," Martha muttered, signalling towards her best friend, despite the fact that she, herself, wasn't feeling the greatest, either. The two best friends, at least to Blaire's knowledge, hadn't talked much since their argument, but Martha would never give up on Toni, especially in a moment like this.

The silence was deafening, but before Blaire's mind could spiral, Toni muttered, weakly: "I'm f-fine, Marty." She shuddered in Blaire's arms though, and to say her tone was unconvincing would be an understatement.

Panicked, Blaire took the pill from Leah's shaking hands and propped Toni into a sitting position in her lap, using all of her energy to try and maintain her consciousness. "Toni, hey, look at me," She begged, and Toni grumbled as she tilted her head upwards at once. "I need you to take this, okay? Please."

But as Blaire brought the medicine to Toni's lips, waiting by with an empty Diet Coke can full of water to wash it down with, the others shared equally horrified glances as Toni struggled to keep anything down. Her body had refused the medication, coughing it back up, and Blaire couldn't help but cry out for the only level-headed person she could think of.

"Dot! DOT!"

Alarmed by Blaire's strained cries for help, both Dot and Shelby raced over from the campfire, all just as terrified for Toni's safety.

Blaire hadn't even been able to acknowledge them, because her sights were set on Toni, becoming even more worried with each passing second. Toni had dirt and puke all over her shirt, and Blaire felt every single shudder Toni's body gave against her own.

Toni's eyes were unfocused as they stared, almost lifeless, back at the New Yorker. Her skin was pale, her sweat was shining on her skin, and Blaire felt the hopeless tears begin to well in her eyes. She felt Fatin's hand on her shoulder, a reassuring gesture that would've calmed her nerves if it weren't for the contradicting cries of anguish coming from Martha.

"Oh Lord, she's in bad shape," Shelby voiced her assessment of Toni, despite knowing that she didn't have to, because they could all clearly see it.

"That's not exactly helping now, is it?" Blaire spat hotly, unable to control herself, and Shelby frowned at her tone, her arms crossed over her chest guiltily.

Thankfully, Dot then stepped between them to examine Toni before things escalated, her head lolling forwards. "This'll help, but there's only one," She explained, holding up single Halophen — an antiparasitic medicine — she'd found in the pilot's bag, and Blaire couldn't hold her frustration back.

"Come on, it's obvious who needs it most!"

Dot, ever the caretaker, looked to Martha, the only other delegate still in bad shape. "Martha, you good?"

"Yeah," Martha nodded at once, "I'll take a Pepto, I'll be good."

Then, with Dot and Blaire both already occupied holding Toni in a sitting position, Shelby kneeled down and took the drug into her hand. She wanted to be the one to help, to be the one to fix things between her and the others.

"Okay, Toni, I'm gonna need you to take this," Shelby started, adopting a voice like the one Blaire had heard countless times in the hospital with her injuries. But it was softer somehow, and she realized that everyone was just as terrified as she was.

"Stay... away... from me..." Toni mumbled out, and Blaire felt her heart sink at the weakness in the basketball player's voice. Surely Toni wouldn't refuse the drug just because she hated Shelby now, would she?

Fatin raised a skeptic eyebrow, posing the question they'd all been thinking, "Should Shelby really be on the front lines of this, considering the shit that just went down?"

"I've got this, a-alright?" Shelby sighed and looked back at Toni, feeling her heart pounding in her throat. In that moment, Blaire could tell that guilt was eating her alive. "If I put this in your hand, can you take it?"

Toni looked up at her, and even when she had no strength to stand, even on the brink of death, her fiery gaze remained just as intense. "I'm not... gonna take shit... from you..." She spat, and any other time, Blaire probably would've been annoyed at her resolve. This time though, Blaire was fucking terrified by it. Because she knew that Toni was only refusing the Halophen because of what Shelby had said, because Shelby had said things to Toni that Toni had probably heard so many times before.

Then, ever so suddenly, Blaire could remember her and Toni's kiss on the beach early that morning, could feel Toni slipping away before she got the chance to tell her everything she'd been feeling, everything that she'd been wanting to get off her chest.

Once again, Blaire's nerves, and her terror and her selfishness, was threatening to take away something that could be good for her.

But Blaire could not let it happen again.

She fucking would not.

"It'll save your life, Toni," Shelby argued back, breaking Blaire out of her storm of thoughts. "You're taking the damn pill!"

"Fuck it, Shelby just give it to me! I'll fucking do it," Dot growled, and that was followed by all of the other girls chiming in, telling Shelby to let someone else do it.

"Shelby, give her the pill!" Leah demanded. "Give her the fucking pill!"

"What are you waiting for? Give it to her!"

"She's going to fucking die, Shelby! DO SOMETHING!"

"Jesus fucking Christ, am I not allowed to help her?"

Blaire felt her anxiety settle abruptly in her chest, but she didn't have time to acknowledge it. She moved without thinking, transferring Toni's weight over to Dot's lap, before she stood and snatched the Halophen from Shelby's hand with remarkable speed.

"For fuck's sake, just move out of the fucking way!" Blaire spoke with an unquestionable tone, and while the others were too stunned to speak at this, she pushed Toni, ever so stubborn, to the ground and straddled her hips, placing her legs on either side of her.

She didn't have time to think in that moment, didn't have time to focus on how close she was to Toni.

She only had the time to save Toni's life.

Blaire reached out and pinched Toni's nose shut, knowing that, sooner or later, she'd have to open her mouth to breathe. Eventually, Toni gasped in a breath, surrendering, and Blaire pushed the pill past her lips before covering her mouth with her hand, waiting.

When Toni still relented to swallow the Halophen, Blaire moved in closer, using every bit of confidence and authority that she had. Her lips hovered over Toni's ear, and she whimpered again, "Please, Toni..."

Then, after what seemed like forever, in which Blaire imagined too many scenarios where Toni didn't make it through the day, she finally heard Toni swallow.

Blaire exhaled in relief, feeling the tension drift out of her body. Seconds later, she'd finally realized the position her and Toni were in. Her legs were still wrapped around Toni's hips, and the two of them were pressed together, faces close enough to touch.

If Toni hadn't been recovering from a near death experience, Blaire might have considered kissing her because of how relieved she'd felt in that moment.

But when her mind registered that thought, Blaire pushed herself upright, remembering that all the girls were still hovering around her. Her eyes were still trained on Toni, who was slowly regaining colour in her face, the medication taking its time to kick in.

Blaire looked around at the others again, each of them silently hoping they'd made the right call. She ignored Shelby's gaze that lingered on the side of her face, not willing to explain herself, and then, into the silence, she sighed, "That was way too fucking close."

─── • ───

"Toni was too proud," Faber assessed the information back in the bunker, breathing a deep sigh as he leaned back in his chair to observe Leah from a distance. "That's why she resisted the meds from Shelby at first. Then Blaire, of course, was the only one to get through to her."

"Something like that," Leah responded with a slight grin, knowing what was to come. "Blaire's incredibly persistent when she wants to be."

Faber looks across the room at her, tilting his head. He paused for a moment, making a mental note, then said, "Pride." He pressed on absentmindedly. "It's a dangerous thing, having too much."

Then, for the first time since Faber had stepped into her room, Leah let out a light and rueful laugh in response.

"So is having none at all." She replied, glancing his way. Maybe she was reading into it too much, but it seemed that Faber's smile faltered for a moment, as if struck by just how much those girls had struggled on that island.

─── • ───

Nightfall had soon been bestowed upon the island, the crescent moon glimmering off the ripples of the ocean. The Halophen had proved to be enough to keep Toni stable, and she was back to normal as her and the others all gathered around the campfire.

But the same couldn't be said for everyone else...

Because Martha, who had been trying so hard to keep it together, had dropped to the sand in a delayed reaction to the mussels, and she wasn't responding, and Blaire could feel that terror in her stomach again.

Toni was cradling Martha face, trying to maintain her consciousness, and she looked so scared that Blaire's heart ached for her, because it seemed like Martha was probably the person who mattered most to Toni in this world.

And Blaire, with suffocating guilt clogging her throat, knew all too well what it was like to lose that person.

Her mom. Her sister. Her friends.

"What's happening to her?" Toni's voice croaked out, and Blaire and the others raced around the campfire to help Martha as best as they could.

"I don't know," Dot replied, assessing the pale Native-American girl, "Pepto might have not been the right thing."

Shelby swallowed as she hovered over the scene. "Okay, so what do we do now Dottie?" She asked shakily, and Blaire was just silently hoping that Dot had some sort of plan.

"I said I don't know!" Dot responded hotly, clearly overwhelmed, sounding just as on edge as Blaire felt.

"Well, figure something out," Toni snapped back, but there wasn't the usual conviction to it. She sounded lost, sounded like she was holding back tears.

Dot said something about another Halophen, before she rushed off to get the drugs and bring them back. Vaguely, Blaire was aware of Leah and Shelby hovering around her, but that wasn't her focus.

Because Toni had looked up towards her, eyes full of pain, and asked, "Why did you do it? Why did you give me the last one?"

Blaire didn't know what to say in response, because, well, it hadn't been a choice. Martha had been stable in the moment; Toni had barely been able to speak.

"Toni..." She started, but Toni wasn't done.

"You wasted it on me!" Toni spat out, like she meant it, like she thought of her life as a waste. She wasn't thinking clearly in the moment, and while part of her knew Blaire was just trying to help, she felt like she needed someone to blame for what was happening.

Blaire flinched and tried again, "Toni, I didn't..."

But Toni was relentless, and she shook her head, and she raised her voice in frustration. "LOOK AT HER!" She strained her voice, weakening and breaking it under the tension, "She is a good person, and she cares about people, and people care about her, and she has a whole family, and you threw me a lifeline!"

There was a long, long moment of silence, because Blaire was too stunned to speak. Toni sounded so disgusted by the thought that she'd been the one saved, sounded almost like she hated Blaire for doing what she did to save her instead of Martha, like she hated herself for not dying out there earlier today.

Blaire tried not to notice that Toni's wording made it sound like she didn't have a family, like there wasn't anybody waiting for her to come back home, and she hoped it wasn't true.

She hoped that Toni wasn't alone just like she was...

But Toni's anger at being saved was too much, and Blaire found herself trying to defend her own actions.

"Toni, you were dying!"

"Who cares?" Toni's throat was raw, and the words came out half as a scream of anguish. Tears sparkled on her face in the moonlight, and for a moment, Blaire was paralyzed by the pain in her eyes. "I don't matter! Fuck, I don't matter, I don't fucking matter!"

The words lost their energy as Toni seemed to realize what she had said, and even worse, she seemed to realize that she'd meant them. Blaire watched as she bent her head over Martha's motionless body, sobbing the words into her body like they would bring Martha back, like she could somehow trade their places.

Blaire hadn't seen it before, hadn't realized, had been too distracted by the shield of anger that Toni often used to push people away, but now, even in the heat of the moment, she saw that Toni was just so hurt underneath it all that it made Blaire feel guilty again.

I do... I fucking care.

That was what Blaire really wanted to say. She wanted to tell Toni that she wasn't alone, because she knew what it was like to feel that way, and she couldn't bear the thought of Toni being in that position. But, with Martha's life on the line, Blaire swallowed the words.

Toni wouldn't listen anyways; she was too far gone in her own terror.

Behind them, Blaire could vaguely hear Leah saying something about having dropped the pilot's bag in the forest, could hear Dot shoving her and telling her to go get them, but Blaire wasn't focused on that at all.

All she could think about was Toni.

Had Toni really felt like that?

Like she didn't matter, like no one would care if she died?

Had Blaire made her feel like that?

Then, because her mind was spiralling into its own self-destruction, Blaire made a promise to herself.

Never again would she be responsible for someone's pain like that again. Even the potential consequences wouldn't matter, because Blaire still wouldn't do it.

She was better than that.

But for now, that promise was just in her mind, waiting to be remembered.

The only thing that mattered was making sure that all of them made it through this. Because it was clear to Blaire now that it was up to her to make sure that the other girls made it off that godforsaken island...

─── • ───

Before the crescent moon had even reached its apex in the night sky, Leah and Dot had returned with the missing Halophen for Martha. The medication had cured the Native-American girl of most of her symptoms, and almost everyone had fallen asleep around the campfire after peace was finally restored.

It took some time to convince Dot to put the flashlight down and get some rest, but eventually the redhead surrendered and allowed Blaire to take her place. The New Yorker hadn't wanted to be left alone with her thoughts anyways, considering the fact that Toni's words kept replaying in her head over and over, on a constant loop.

Blaire didn't pace around the campsite like Dot, though. She didn't shine the flashlight in anyone's face, either. Toni and Martha were close enough for Blaire to see that they were both breathing, even though they were cuddled up together. Shelby had been fine from the start, and the rest of them had improved enough during the day to make Blaire feel confident that none of them would suddenly stop breathing overnight.

And so, with the cool breeze rolling in from the water, Blaire took a seat on a nearby rock, a few yards from the campsite, alone in the silence, because she had now learned to love the quiet.

Most nights, she would just watch the waves crash against the shoreline until the sun came up again. Other nights, she would clutch the gold locket around her neck so tightly that she could've sworn it left an imprint on the inside of her palm.

And though it was becoming rare, Blaire would open the locket and stare at the picture of her family, of her past. Her home that no longer felt like her home.

That night, however, felt different. Every time Blaire closed her eyes, even if just for a second, she could feel the nightmares trickling back in to the forefront of her mind. The scars, the bruises, and the pointless screaming matches that almost never amounted to anything — there was nowhere to escape, nowhere to go at all, except back to reality which, at this point, Blaire wasn't sure if that was any better.

Sure, there was more freedom on the island, but there was also so many more pills to swallow...

And of course, embedded in the core of it all, there was the unbearable homesickness. The feeling of isolation, too, because no matter how difficult life in New York was, Blaire would always long for the day where she could hug her little sister and keep the promise she'd made before she got on that plane.

But it was not like she have much of a choice. She was currently stranded on an island with nowhere to go, and spiralling into self-destruction, and exhausted, and overthinking about a girl she'd only just met.

So while the others slept soundly by the fire, Blaire hugged her knees to her chest and reached for the locket around her neck, just as she had so many nights before, trying so desperately to cling onto any hope she had left.

The locket popped open to reveal the same picture she'd looked at thousands of times: a rare photo of her and her family, smiling as if they were so naively unaware of the future they all had coming for them.

And for the first time in a long while, Blaire smiled back at the photograph. Maybe it was because of the twinkle in her absent mother's eyes, or the goofy grin plastered on her father's face. Though if Blaire had to guess, it was because of the childlike innocence embedded in Maya Rose's dimples, a sign of her little sister's laughter that she'd so desperately wanted to hear again.

The small picture in the locket had captured that bright smile of Maya's that Blaire had cherished ever since they were little; it was a smile that made you feel like everything was going to be okay, magically so — and what a pity, that it didn't work that night on the island, right when Blaire needed it the most.

Blaire wished it would've been that easy, using that stupid photograph to make it all better. But she knew she had to face her demons alone this time, especially when the nightmares started to creep in again, and she thought back to a time where, despite not knowing it, she had hit rock bottom —

Cold panic had struck Blaire as she sat on her bathroom floor, shivering and holding onto the toilet seat for dear life. She would have nightmares about that bathroom. The white walls, tall mirror, and tiny windows, too high to see anything but a morsel of the night sky.

This, so it seemed, was part of her nightly routine. The party would end, and Blaire would stumble into her bedroom window and empty her stomach into the toilet bowl, ridding her body of the multitude of toxins she'd tried to numb the pain. The drugs, and the alcohol, and the sex — none of it mattered. Because every night, she'd end up on the floor of that bathroom, curled in a ball on the floor, trying to remember how she'd even gotten home.

And every time she closed her eyes, lying on the tile floor in the bathroom, Blaire felt like she was falling. She was always falling. From a jagged cliff into the current. From the sky into the clouds. From cloud nine to rock bottom.

Her hair fell back over her shoulders as she felt bile rising in her throat, tumbling down to the middle of her back before she vomited into the toilet, like a teenager on spring break. It was well past midnight, and while she knew her father was probably passed out on the couch downstairs, Blaire tried to keep her voice down as to not wake Maya Rose in the next room.

But everything was so muffled, and Blaire was too caught up in her own sickened state, that she hadn't even noticed the bathroom door open until the intruder knelt down beside her and held Blaire's hair out of her face.

Blaire felt their cold touch on her skin and jumped, only to scoot back in a panic and lock eyes with her eleven-year-old sister, who was staring wide-eyed back at her, wearing a Taylor Swift concert t-shirt, some pyjama shorts, and unicorn slippers on her feet.

"Jesus Christ, you scared me!" Blaire clutched at her chest, swallowing the bile in her throat, looking up at Maya with a shameful expression. "What're you doing up this late?"

"I could ask you the same question," Maya Rose shrugged her shoulders, shifting on her feet nervously. Blaire raised an eyebrow at her, stern and older-sisterly-like, and she sighed, "I just — I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine, Mimi," Blaire, ever so stubborn, leaned back against the nearby wall and dragged her legs to her chest. "Go back to sleep." She whispered quietly, signalling back towards the doorway. "Dad will kill us both if he finds you in here, out of bed."

But Maya Rose didn't do as she was told, not just yet. No, instead, she shuffled closer and took a seat next to older sister, leaning her head on Blaire's shoulder. They hadn't had a moment to talk, just the two of them, in such a long while, and it was nice to sit in the silence together. Blaire didn't fight this either, and instead she took a deep breath and leaned into her sister's embrace.

Out of the corner of her eye, Blaire noticed the golden bracelet that their mother had left Maya Rose still looked too big on the little girl's wrist, and the sight was strangely comforting in its familiarity.

"I'm worried about you, B," Maya Rose muttered, into the silence, just when Blaire started to enjoy it, her voice muffled with uncertainty."I hear things, you know?" Maya Rose added softly, avoiding eye-contact. "The walls are thin, just like mom used to tell us, and I've heard you and Finn arguing before —"

Panicked, Blaire immediately tried to end the conversation before things escalated, or she was forced to tell the truth.

"Mimi, stop —"

"— and I can hear you crying sometimes —"

"Maya, that's not —"

"— and you're always coming home late —"

"That's enough, Maya Rose —"

"— and I've seen your bruises —"

"Maya Rose!" Blaire warned, raising her voice ever so slightly, after a brief moment of hesitation. "That's enough, okay? Whatever you're thinking, just forget it. I'm fine, I promise. I mean, yeah, Finn and I are going through, like, a rough patch, but it's nothing for you to worry about."

"But it is," Maya Rose persisted, as delicate as she could, because she wanted her sister to be happy. Maybe because she knew Blaire's had so few chances at happiness, or maybe because it was something she deserved. That they all deserved, really. "Because it's you and me, remember?" Maya Rose looked up at her sister, pleading, with big doe eyes. "It's always been like that."

"Mimi..." Blaire started, and then paused, like she was searching for her words. Maya Rose waited, patiently. Downstairs, drunkenly passed out on the couch, their father was sleeping soundly, completely unaware of the damage done to his daughters and lost in a bottle of cheap liquor. "I'm sorry it has to be like this, okay? There's just so many things you won't understand. Things I don't want you to understand, not yet... not ever."

Silence. More silence.

"I miss mommy," Maya Rose let out in a broken voice, automatically, which was the truth. There was more to it, of course, Blaire knew that, but the eleven-year-old didn't want to think about it. She'd rather sit there with her sister, and enjoy the silence in all its dark, eerie beauty.

"Me too," Blaire admitted softly, leaning their heads together. She then grabbed Maya Rose's hand, held it tightly in hers, and flashed a watery smile. "But we've got each other, right? We'll be okay, not right now, sure, but really soon. Because I'm gonna do better, Mimi, I promise."

Maya Rose squeezed her hand back, "You and me?"

"You and me, kiddo," Blaire nodded her head, placing a kiss on Maya's head endearingly. There was a word she didn't say, but it was implied, and they both understood.

Always.

You and me, kiddo, always —

Blaire blinked back her tears as consciousness came flooding back, transporting her back to the lonely island. She suddenly wanted the desire for the drugs in her pocket to worsen, to erase everything else, like they used to. Her fingertips reached into her pocket, grazing over the aluminum packet, craving temptation. She wanted to lose control again, just for a moment.

"Blaire..."

Startled, Blaire snapped her head to the side and, to her complete surprise, met Toni's eyes. There was something apologetic in them, something Blaire had seen so many times, real or not. She turned away from Toni, her eyes on the water, and she shivered, though from tension or coldness she did not know.

"Sorry if I woke you," Blaire said softly, without a glance over her shoulder, unwilling to let Toni see her like that. There was more silence, and Blaire didn't know what else to say as she played loosely with the rings on her fingers.

I wish you'd told me how you were feeling.

I wish you'd felt you could talk to me.

I wish you'd let me be there for you.

"You didn't," Blaire heard Toni moving closer to her from behind, and she wondered how long it would take for them to talk about the kiss. If they ever would.

And, because she couldn't avoid her forever, Blaire made room for Toni on the rock next to her, and they both sat beside each other, and the silence crept back in, and it was far too uncomfortable for Blaire to look anywhere else but the ocean.

"I think it was probably Martha's snoring that did the trick." Toni tried to joke to ease the tension, but she kept bouncing her leg anxiously against the rock, in a way that told Blaire she was nervous, and trying very hard not to act on it. It was such a familiar gesture, so endearingly Toni, that a smile crept up Blaire lips, before she could even stop herself.

"If you say so." The words came out terser than Blaire had intended, and Toni flinched ever so slightly.

Silence stretched between them for a few painful minutes. They hadn't been alone together since their kiss on the beach, early that morning, and Blaire could still feel the butterflies swirling around her stomach.

"Blaire," Toni muttered softly, like a question, and fuck, why did it hurt Blaire to hear Toni say her name? They were both still tense, not nearly as talkative as they usually were, but maybe Blaire and Toni needed a quiet night, the uncomfortable silence of it all, and then things would go back to normal between them.

But Blaire, with a shaky breath, turned to her.

"Yeah?"

Toni chewed on her bottom lip before she spoke. "Look," She exhaled, because it was easier to tell the truth in the dark. "I'm sorry for what I said about you saving me back there, you know? When Martha got sick, I just... I was so scared and fucked up about everything, and I took it out on you, because you were there, saying all the things I didn't want to hear."

Struck by this confession, Blaire abruptly stopped fiddling with the rings on her fingers. Maybe it was because she hadn't been alone with Toni since that morning. Maybe it was because of the day they had, filled with unpleasant circumstances. Hell, she wasn't sure of the reason why, but the urge to talk was suddenly impossible to resist.

"You don't have to apologize," Blaire told her, after a few moments of silence."If anything, I'm the one who fucked everything up, because I wasn't thinking. Not about anyone else, I mean." She clarified, and the night bristled with noises; insects were buzzing, and leaves were rustling in the breeze. "Because I was just so scared for you, and only you. I thought something bad had happened to you, I thought maybe — fuck, I thought I'd lost you. And all I wanted was to help you, but I feel like I just made everything ten times worse."

"But what I said to you, it still wasn't fair." Toni sighed, her lips twitching into a halfhearted, self-deprecating smile. "I know you were just worried, and honestly, I was too. I was hurting, and part of me wanted to hurt someone in return, and you didn't deserve any of it. Because, like, fuck — I can't say I wouldn't have done the same if the roles were reversed." She shrugged her shoulders, a faint blush creeping on her cheeks. "So I'm really sorry for lashing out at you like that."

"You need to stop apologizing," Blaire reassured her, with a light touch on Toni's shoulder that ignited a flicker of hesitation in her stomach. She swallowed, and then forced herself to say, "We can't change what happened now, okay? Martha's recovering, and that's all that matters."

"Right," Toni grew rigid under her touch, and for a brief moment, Blaire feared she'd crossed a line, but then just as quickly, Toni placed her hand on top of the New Yorker's affectionately. "Well, now that we've got that out of the way, maybe we should, uh..." She trailed off for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Maybe we should talk about the elephant in the room, then?"

Blaire recoiled, heart in her throat, because she thought maybe, somehow, that she'd avoided the conversation she was dreading the most. But before her panic could make her retreat, Toni gave her hand a squeeze, not allowing her to move away.

"Okay, then talk," Blaire shrugged her shoulders, and her dark eyes remained fixated on Toni, challenging.

Toni couldn't move, frozen in place. She'd spent so many hours stewing in the unfamiliar heartache that came from rejection, telling herself that they would at least remain friends. That it would be enough. And yet, there was Blaire, patient enough to wait for Toni to put whatever she was thinking into the right words.

"I don't regret it, you know? The kiss, I mean," Toni confessed quietly, truthfully. It was terrifying, being so vulnerable in front of someone else, but also comforting, and strangely easy, because it was Blaire.

"Neither do I," Blaire replied at once, trying not to be distracted by Toni's touch against her palm. She didn't protest, or move away, and her eyes, somehow brighter in the moonlight, didn't leave Toni's face. Her heart pounded, and the tightening of muscles under Toni's fingertips felt like an earthquake. "I don't regret it, Toni." She tried to stop the smile that overtook her lips. "Because, ever since it happened, I can't get you out of my fucking head. And I'm terrified, because I've never felt this way before, so it's taken me a while to come to... to accept my feelings for you for what they are, without feeling all sorts of guilty about them."

Toni blinked once, then twice, as if she hadn't heard correctly. Her stomach was preforming all sorts of somersaults, and she could've sworn she'd turned three different colours in the time it took for Blaire to finish speaking. "You have feelings for me?" She whispered, in disbelief. There was something raw in her voice, and in the past, she would have been embarrassed by how pathetic and needy her voice sounded, but in that moment, she couldn't care less.

"Yeah."

"Like, the romantic kind?"

Blaire rolled her eyes. "Obviously."

"Good."

"Good?" Blaire repeated, incredulous. "That's all you have to say?"

Toni scooted closer to Blaire, close enough to touch her, though she fought hard to keep her hands to herself. "Good." She said once more, low with the purest of intentions. "Because I feel the same way."

They looked into each other's eyes, and Blaire's heart trembled with delight, relieved that she wasn't reading into something that wasn't there. She then brushed her thumb against Toni's face, following the curve of her cheekbone. The warm night air suddenly felt like honey — sweet and floral, thick and rich.

"Tell me what you want," Toni prodded, a gentle command, when the silence stretched too long.

"I want you," Blaire answered, with an utter lack of hesitation, which sent a fire to Toni's lower stomach. "But I have no idea what that means for us, because I don't know a fucking thing about how this is supposed to work."

"So we'll take things slow," Toni offered, after a few seconds. "And we'll figure it out together?"

"I'd like that," Blaire smiled, and Toni leaned into the warmth of her palm endearingly. In that moment, a strange sort of tranquility settled over the two of them — it felt like closure, yet also like a beginning.

"Good, because I can't stop thinking about what it felt like to kiss you," Toni admitted, mouth blurting out the words. "And I'd really like to do it again."

Blaire's lower lip got caught between her teeth as closed the distance between them a bit, leaving enough room for Toni to move her head and meet her halfway. "Well, what's stopping you?" She teased playfully, a mischievous smirk on her face, and without being told twice, Toni placed her lips on Blaire's.

Their lips crashed together, and Blaire captured Toni's bottom lip between hers as Toni's tongue left a faint trail over her top, and it was a firm kiss, and soft, and perfect, because it was the two of them, just like it was always meant to be. The second kiss wasn't as eager or passionate like the first one earlier on the beach, just their lips enjoying the feeling of the other.

And Blaire subconsciously added to the list of things she was slowly realizing she loved about Toni: the feeling of her lips on hers. Because it was starting to sink in that Blaire was actually going to get to kiss Toni every day, and somehow the thought became more and more appealing in its reality.

She wondered if Toni had that moment of realization as well. She wondered if Toni ever pondered it, wondered if the idea was ever even remotely intriguing to Toni up until it happened on the beach.

But the way Toni kissed her, delicate and intentional, with the slightest bite of eagerness, told her it was.

And then, as they continued to get lost in the new territories of their relationship, there was something that told Blaire that kissing Toni felt even better when she was doing it completely sober...

─── • ───

Leah was back on her bed again, trying to get her thoughts in order, because she was, in all honestly, a mess.

Faber's attempt at a 'hands-off, unofficial' interrogation was leaving her drained with each passing second, because it was just a game of trading information. Faber's face stayed stoic through the whole ordeal, and if Leah wasn't such a good actor, he would've known she had more evidence than just a few ideas, at least, she hoped.

But Faber just kept pushing, and prodding, and implying things that he had no goddamn idea about. He kept feeding that doubt in her, kept throwing her mistakes in her face, like it gave him some sort of twisted joy to do so.

"When I use the word 'obsessive,' I'm not criticizing," Faber kept pressing, unaware of the tension building in the frown-line above Leah's brow. "It's just a word meant to help you understand your nature." He was too close now, in her space, and Leah just wanted the interrogation to end. "You see how it applies to you, don't you? And do you also see how it could pose a threat? Because if you hadn't let your obsessive paranoia about Shelby get the better of you, then you wouldn't be carrying around the guilt that you are now, would you?"

"I tried to make it right." Leah's hands gripped her hair, stopping herself from lashing out to him. Her body was immediately back in survival mode. "Maybe not straightaway, but I tried."

Faber shrugged his shoulders, "Yes, you tried."

The way he said it, like he was pitying her, like she was totally crazy for not believing him, angered her.

Why couldn't he just leave her in peace?

Leah tried to compose herself and create some distance, but he just kept on coming and judging. He was backing her into a corner, and the only thing Leah could do was abruptly rise to her feet, shaking her arms as if to prove to herself she was free of that strangling hold.

"Why are you being so brutal?" She asked in an accusatory tone, but Faber was not affected in any way. He even had the audacity to look confused.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Your accusations, the way you're looking at me."

Faber narrowed his eyes, "How am I looking at you?"

Leah sat in the silence for a while. Faber just kept watching her. He was still looking confused, as if he didn't know what she was talking about, and it pissed her off. Leah was sure he knew something, even if he wasn't responsible.

"I don't... I don't know." Her voice sounded hoarse, and the anticipation of his reaction was killing her. "Like I'm some kind of fucking criminal."

"Okay, okay, maybe that's the paranoia resurfacing." Faber laughed awkwardly. "Except now you're projecting it onto me."

Leah was breathing heavily now. She wanted to move, to walk around, to do anything, but Faber was still there with his hands up, in the metal chair, waiting.

"What did you say your job was?" Leah might've stopped herself physically, but she wasn't not done talking. "To protect us?"

Faber looked at her, his head tilted. He seemed a bit taken aback, but he didn't reveal much more. "Yes," He replied, finally breaking eye contact.

"To make us feel safe?" Leah kept going, just like he did.

Faber nodded again, "Yes, that's the gist of it."

"Well, then why do I feel attacked?" Leah stepped over an unspoken line, addressed the truth they both knew, but never talked about. "I tried to make it right. I admitted what happened, okay? But that island... I don't know. It changed me, it made me question everything." She let rueful out a laugh, a hint towards her madness. "Blaire used to say that the island was a world of its own..."

"That's one way to look at it, sure," Faber was standing now, too, again with his hands outstretched it a mock surrender. "But why do you think that resonated so much with you? Surely, you and Blaire talked about others things on the island, but nothing seemed as imperative as that."

Because the quote wasn't hers, not really...

That's what Leah wanted to say, wanted to scream at him, because he'd been so blind, so stupid, as to not see what was right in front of him. Her muscles kept tensing, her breathing was just a tad faster while her eyes scanned the room, looking for a way out that she knows was not there.

She hated Daniel Faber. It was easy to see through his act of a nice, helpful man. His eyes were too sharp, and his questions were too precise to be innocent. The opposite of Agent Young, who often looked at her with a hint of pity.

But now, as she stood across from him, Faber instilled a sense of fear in Leah that she would carry around for a long time, because just the sight of him spiralled her thoughts.

Leah remained silent for another moment, her thoughts rattling with images, voices, memories of conversations of Blaire. She hoped that somehow, someway she'd be able to warn Blaire and the others of what was happening.

"I don't... I don't know." She hissed out in response, finally, when the silence becomes too awkward to ignore. "Maybe it's because I'm young, and stupid, and all sorts of fucked-up. But you wouldn't understand, because you just expect me to be fucking perfect."

Again, Faber put his hands up in surrender, an action that now sped up Leah's heartbeat, making her glance nervously at the door. The stress, and the fear, and the anger that was coursing through her body made her heart almost beat out of her chest.

"Okay, okay, okay." He tried to calm her down, but as he inched towards her, Leah's alarm bells in her head signalled before the door to her room could even open again, revealing a nurse she'd never seen before, who was holding a syringe that glinted under the flickering lights.

"Sorry, what's happening?"

Leah hated the way her voice broke with the question, with the realization that she wasn't safe anymore, like someone had bulldozed through her walls of protection and exposed her to the world.

"You need to calm down, Leah."

"I am calm!"

"You're overwhelmed, okay?"

"I'm not fucking overwhelmed!"

And then Faber grabbed ahold of her, and Leah's shaky breaths were stuttering in her chest. The more Leah tried to resist, the tighter he held on, until she could barely keep her eyes open.

Faber kept Leah trapped, restraining her long enough for the mysterious nurse to approach with the needle that caught her eye. She kicked and screamed, trying to get away, to the safety of more open space, but the nurse was quicker and jabbed the needle in her shoulder with a bit too much force.

"No, no, no! NO! Let me go! LET ME GO!" Leah tried to fight it, but Faber was still trapping her, physically and mentally. Her body was slowly giving out on her, and Faber held on until the darkness was creeping in again.

"Just keep an eye on her." The words of authoritative instruction were the last thing to leave Faber's mouth, and Leah barely registered them as her consciousness faded to black. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go inquire about a certain New Yorker..."

The last thought on Leah's mind, as her eyelids fluttered closed, was that she hoped to wake up in the burning sun again, on the beach, on the island, far away from this hell.

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author's note:
*this chapter was not proof read*

and just like that, the #blaini ship sets sail 🚢

tbh didn't think I was going to love writing the bunker scenes as much as I do!! lmk what you guys think of the story so far! idk how to feel about this chapter... I'm too much for a perfectionist for this ahahah

[insert begging for comments and votes here]

much love! vote, comment, and follow for more <33

xo, selena

p.s. idk if you guys are ready for the next episode...

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