╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗
— DAY FIFTEEN —
season one, episode seven, part two

❝𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥...?❞

─── • ───

(A/N: warning – shit's about to go down <33)

Shelby never returned after her fight with Leah, even as the others relocated what was left of their campsite to Gold Cliff Beach around the bend, just as Dot had suggested. The tension still lingered within the group of delegates as a result, with Blaire having not said a word since Shelby stormed off; the others didn't seem to acknowledge it as they dragged their belongings across the sand.

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly the promised land, but it's as good as we're gonna get." Dot spoke to the group as they came up on a patch of flat ground, declaring it as their new campsite. She wiped sand from her green overalls, making herself comfortable on a piece of driftwood, before she said, "And look, it comes pre-furnished."

"All right, so how do we do this?" Rachel asked Dot, wanting to know what the next steps were. She and Blaire were the only ones left standing, while the others were sprawled out on the sand, weak and tired. "Should we start a fire, make a plan for shelter?"

Dot shrugged, "Why are you asking me?"

"'Cause we always ask you." Rachel replied at once, unsure whether she was welcomed to do so. Dot had been through a lot, trying to keep everyone together, so they'd all gotten in the habit of giving her space.

"All right, you're an athlete," Dot remarked, glancing at Rachel briefly. "What's it called when somebody trains so hard that they just sort of, like, flatline?"

It was blunt, and the message was clear: Dot did not want to talk. But the word pressed against Blaire's teeth anyway, a word she couldn't help but utter.

"Burnout?"

"Bingo." Dot murmured in response. "I'm done."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Wait, are you for real right now?" She managed to complain, and Blaire couldn't fight the laugh bubbling from her lips at Rachel's look of utter outrage. "Dot, you're the one that relocated us! Now you're just checking out?"

"Yeah, well, I'm nobody's guiding light." Dot shrugged again, a very small movement of the shoulders, as if to say what can you do. She then handed the lighter over to Blaire. "Not even my own. Lighter's yours."

With no energy to argue, Blaire placed the lighter into her back pocket before sharing a look with Rachel, who almost couldn't believe that Dot had, indeed, made herself more comfortable by sprawling out on the driftwood. The redhead flicked them a thumbs-up and leaned her head back, unwilling to be bothered, before Blaire could say anything further.

Instead, she looked around at the other girls: Leah had climbed to a lookout point on a nearby hill, trying to escape the accusations she'd made. Fatin was sorting through her suitcase. Nora was drawing in her notebook. Martha was flipping through her Uno cards, as if content with just a taste of normalcy. And Rachel, ever the hothead, was pacing erratically up-and-down the beach, annoyed by the lack of trying from them.

Realizing she couldn't count on the other girls, Blaire glanced towards Toni, and when their eyes met, they both seemed to realize that they could continue what they'd started in the forest that morning, just the two of them.

Then, predictably, as to not make things obvious, Blaire cleared her throat. "I'll take a look in the forest, see if I can find any wood to get the fire going." She announced, her voice almost casually musing, which Toni would've believed if it weren't for the two spots of colour high on her cheeks. "Rachel, just try to hold down the fort here."

"Sounds like a plan," Toni sprang to her feet, grinning at Blaire knowingly. "I'll come with. There's nothing going on here anyways."

The corner of Blaire's lips twitch upwards, but her legs didn't stop moving towards the inland forest, already knowing Toni would follow her. The others gave them murmurs of acknowledgement, and Fatin looked up briefly with a smirk on her face, before Blaire and Toni disappeared behind the greenery of the spruce trees and tall grass.

They were content in the silence, the only sound was of the crunching of sticks and rocks beneath their feet as the they walked, and then Toni couldn't help herself, and she moved a little closer until she could interlace their fingers. Blaire welcomed the contact, giving Toni's hand a squeeze before wrapping herself around her arm.

She couldn't have imagined how much of a weight off of her shoulders this whole thing with Toni would feel like, because, for the first time, she wasn't suppressing who she was or what she wanted. More than that, Blaire couldn't help but flash a smile at Toni, a little helplessly, filled with something like relief and gratitude.

Their walk into the forest was quiet, and when Toni's feet had gone numb in her canvas sneakers buried in the damp cool grass, and Blaire was beginning to shiver in her thin white flannel, they slowed down, just enough to enjoy the minimal time they would have together.

"Things got a bit heated back there, huh? And for once, it wasn't me." Toni's soft voice cut through the silence, after a moment. "Are you okay?" She asked gently, looking at Blaire when she didn't respond, her eyes concerned. "I could see that it bothered you."

Blaire suddenly felt very small. But this was also Toni, who Blaire was realizing had just as many sharp jagged edges as she did; Toni, who knew and cared about her.

So she exhaled quietly, and said, "It shouldn't have."

"Says who?"

"I don't know," Blaire admitted, and Toni just patiently waited for her to find the words. "Myself, I guess."

Toni nudged Blaire a little, affectionately, before she looked at her, noticing how hard she was trying to force a smile. "Hey, it's okay," She said gently, meeting Blaire's grave eyes. "I get it, it's a mess. Things haven't exactly been easy around here. So I get that you're all messed up about it. Fuck, I am too."

"It's not just about the island," Blaire told her, very softly. "It's everything that happened before, too."

"Okay," Toni responded, lifting a finger to Blaire's face, brushing the apple of her cheek with so much tenderness that it was a miracle Blaire didn't faint on the spot. "Then talk to me about it. Because I'm here, whenever you need me."

"I can do that." Blaire smiled, a little shakily, and placed a kiss on Toni's lips, breathing her in like someone who just took their first gulp of oxygen after almost drowning: desperately, passionately. She pulled away, still cupping Toni's face, and said, "But you have to agree to talk to me too, about your life before the island. About everything."

"Deal," Toni whispered between their mouths. Her hands slip underneath Blaire's shirt, exploring warm skin, before they kissed again. They savored times like these, knowing they didn't have the luck to have it for so long. So Toni went on, touching what was real, to feel real, and only pulled away for a breath. "Okay, okay." She laughed, smug as ever. "Let's keep moving before Fatin notices we're gone and tells the others about all the naughty things we could be doing."

"Right," Blaire rolled her eyes, "cause there's nothing naughtier than talking about pre-island trauma with your girlfriend in the middle of the woods."

"Girlfriend?" Toni repeated, immediately interested, staring at Blaire with the widest smile the New Yorker had ever seen grace her face. "That's new."

Blaire blushed bright red. "Well, I... are we not?"

But before Toni had even opened her mouth, her and Blaire both heard branches breaking, and leaves rustling, and they knew that someone was coming. They pulled away from each other, not willing to risk anything, before they turned and followed the sound.

Blaire expected Rachel. It only made sense that she'd be wandering around out there, because Rachel at least had wanted to keep herself busy after everything went down. But what she hadn't been expecting as they ventured further into the forest, was Shelby, sitting by herself on a low-hanging tree.

Shelby turned as they approached, and frowned at once, wondering why both Blaire and Toni were there, wondering if Blaire had dragged Toni to come to look for her, or if the others had forced them to do so.

With an uncomfortable smile, Blaire decided to break the tension by collecting some of the branches at her feet, awkwardly, before then motioning towards them.

"Just getting a jump on the firewood situation."

And Shelby felt stupid for thinking, even for a second, that Blaire had come out there to offer a shoulder to cry on. She almost forgot that Blaire and Toni still hated her, and nothing Leah had said had changed that.

But Shelby still felt the need to defend herself, to explain herself. "I only came up here to get some space." She told them. "I'm not like... up to anything."

Toni chuckled, shrugging her shoulders. "Hey, we never took you for a special ops rat, that's Leah's shit."

"Right," Shelby let out a humourless laugh. "You guys just think I'm an asshole."

Toni whistled at that, surprised by the profanity that left the blonde's mouth, and in that moment, Blaire felt her chest clench, felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

Fuck, how could someone make whistling attractive?

"You say your prayers with that mouth?"

Blaire cleared her throat, coming to her senses, as Shelby walked over to her. "That's not the word I'd use." She replied, and the compliment was kind, and sincere, but there was something bittersweet about it, too.

And Shelby didn't respond, because now she was thinking about something else, about what other word Blaire might use to describe her, where she might use that tone.

Wasn't Shelby supposed to be fighting these feelings?

Not taking Shelby's silence as a deterrent, thankfully, Toni kept trying to make conversation. "Do you ever play pranks with those fangs of yours?" She asked of the blonde, and Blaire was grateful that Toni wasn't going out of her way to make Shelby feel worse. "You know, take 'em out, put 'em on top of your brother's lasagna when he's not looking?"

Shelby felt like she had to be misreading this, felt like Toni had to be subtly mocking her somehow. "No." She answered truthfully, giving her the benefit of the doubt. Her teeth were treated like a deadly secret, and she wasn't supposed to mention them anywhere.

Blaire wondered vaguely if that had at all affected her self-image, because she could tell that Shelby already had a lot of internalized trauma that she needed to work through.

"You should think about it." The New Yorker flashed an awkward half-smile in Shelby's direction, trying to make her feel better. "It'd be a dope signature move."

Shelby's heart leapt because Blaire's tone was so relaxed, and it was reminiscent of the way they'd spoken to each other in the past. It was gentle, and kind, and Shelby found herself obsessed with it. She wanted Blaire to tell her jokes, and laugh with her, despite how ridiculous it all seemed in her head.

But then she remembered all the words she'd said, the disappointment and the pain in Blaire's eyes, and she realized that if she was ever going to apologize, or at least, explain herself, now was the chance.

Shelby stumbled a bit closer, speaking before she even knew what she was saying. "You know, m-my issues with... well, like, with who you are —"

She broke off as both Blaire and Toni looked up at her, and she was taken aback by the expression that slipped over Toni's face like clouds across the sun. Shelby had almost forgotten Toni was there, but now as they stood, face-to-face, she couldn't bring herself to say the word, the one that explained who Toni and Blaire were, and what she knew they must've felt.

"I don't hate you." Shelby needed them — needed Blaire — to understand that. "You get that, right?"

"You actually do, though," Toni's smile had completely disappeared, and Blaire's heart sunk as she realized what was about to happen. "I saw your face when shit got a little too gay for you, you fucking shuddered. I'm sorry, that's hate. The least you could do is own it."

Blaire winced at the anger in Toni's voice, noticing how it made Shelby look down, shame filling her eyes. The worst part was that Blaire understood where Toni was coming from, because a small part of her still felt that same way towards Shelby, even after trying so hard to get rid of it.

"Toni..." She whispered into the silence, unable to think of what else to say, like a warning shot in the air.

"Nah, don't." Toni growled, eyes cold, atmosphere spine-chilling, making Blaire glance at her again. "Don't defend her. I'm not fucking blind, I know hate when I see it." She scoffed, her words true. "And just because Leah went all apeshit on her, it doesn't fucking change what happened."

Shelby flinched.

"Toni, I'm sorry —"

"Save it."

Being civil was overrated, fighting was written in their prophecy, nothing changed, and Shelby and Toni were right back where they started. Blaire's eyes laid low, lips turned down, and everything inside her froze. She watched as Toni even balled her fists before taking a deep breath and unclenching them, for Blaire's sake.

"I'm not doing this." Toni turned and shook her head no at Blaire, lips down, telling her that she had to walk away from this. "Not with her." She clarified, and Blaire suddenly felt unsure of everything, too. "I'll go on ahead, see if I can find anything by the waterfall."

And with that, Toni looked at Blaire one last time before brushing passed Shelby with a collision of shoulders, the daytime breeze sending a chill down her spine as she removed herself from the situation, even if she didn't like leaving Blaire, never would.

"I'm sorry."

Those were the words that left Shelby's mouth as soon as Toni was out of earshot, but Blaire didn't know how to respond without exposing herself.

So, instead, she continued to collect logs for the fire in silence. She even bit down on her tongue, hard enough to draw blood, when Shelby held out her hands towards her, inching forwards nervously.

"Let me help."

─── • ───

BLAIRE DIAMANTE

Even as Faber wrote every detail of Blaire's recollection down in the margins of his notepad, his straight-line blazer didn't move anywhere but at the crook of his elbow. It was as disconcerting to witness as it was a recharging of Blaire's own convictions — the returned, almost ever-present, control of one, becoming an example to the other.

The silence rumbled on, occasionally broken by the sounds of pen on paper, but Blaire doubted that what they were writing would actually provide insight to their investigation.

Then, just as Blaire thought they'd reached a conclusion, Agent Young put his pen down. "You didn't go after Toni, why is that?" He asked, and Blaire's heart skipped a beat. "From our previous interviews, your cohort made it seem like the two of you were the closest on the island."

Blaire felt her chest turn cold, then hot, then cold again, the sudden burst of familiar anger drowned out by sadness and disappointment. She took only a second to recognize the conversation had somehow arrived at a fitting moment to pry into the significance of her and Toni's relationship, and only a further second to decide that she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing.

"Because I couldn't." She said, bitterness on her tongue.

"Was it because you were frightened of her?" Faber stared at her over the top of his notepad, like a hawk who'd found its prey. "Our studies show that Toni has had problems with her anger in the past, and given your own trauma —"

"No. No, Toni would never hurt me." Blaire cut him off, an indisputable firmness in her voice. "So maybe just watch your mouth about things you don't understand." She spat, after a moment, and just like that, her thoughts were on Toni for the millionth time.

Memories Blaire had tried to so hard to push away came rushing back: Toni, kissing her under the lychee tree. Toni, holding her hand as they lay, side-by-side, on a bed of palm leaves and fronds. Toni, smiling at her across the campfire. Toni, crying in her arms as Martha lay, unmoving, on the ground. Toni, walking alongside her, barefoot in the sand. Toni, calling her name in a strangled whisper when they were rescued — it was all too much. Blaire barely let herself think about it, because she knew she'd lose her mind trying to figure out where everything went wrong...

Faber's nod was one of understanding, of a greenlight. One that made his lighthearted tone return: "Then help us to."

With a incredulous shake of her head, Blaire turned away from them to look at the floor, an unconscious prevention to stop the tears from burning in her eyes again. There was nothing further to establish, or verify, or understand. Not for Blaire, at least. Because she knew the truth, even if, in her heart of hearts, she didn't want to admit it aloud.

And so, Blaire saved her response until she thought about it first. "People always leave, okay? Trust me, I know that better than anyone." She confessed, sincerely enough to have it sound like an observation, rather than small-talk. "I've had to learn that lesson far too many times. So yeah, sure, maybe I was a bit numb to the whole thing with Toni, but hey, maybe that's because I'd never had anyone love me enough to stay."

Faber looked at her with a glimmer of sympathy, realizing, with abrupt clarity, that Blaire wasn't talking about Toni.

"I know it must've been hard, when your mother left —"

"You're right, it must've been." Blaire shrugged, like she didn't care, like she was too far gone to take it anymore. "Congratulations, you've cracked the impossible code that is my fucked-up mind. That only took, what, like, an hour?" She laughed again, "Does this mean I'm free to go now?"

"Not yet," Agent Young exhaled softly. "We need to know what else happened that day, in the forest."

In the dimmed lights of the room, Blaire's eyes took on a conspiratorial glint. "Right," she whispered, leaning against the table. "I bet you're wondering how I got these scars..."

─── • ───

Gathering firewood with Shelby in the complete silence made Blaire feel like she wanted to crawl into a ball and scream, especially since all she wanted to do was make sure Toni was okay after she'd left. The silence was unbearable, even as they both took to different tasks; Blaire busied herself by looking for larger logs to keep the fire going over night, while Shelby searched for twigs that would catch easily.

Blaire was in the midst of counting how many logs she'd collected when Shelby approached her, trying to start a conversation, talking about her teeth. "It's genetic, by the way." She pointed to her mouth, and Blaire instantly knew that she'd been quiet out of embarrassment. "When my baby teeth fell out, the other ones just never came in, in case you were wondering..."

"I wasn't," Blaire responded in a neutral tone. She was like a stonewall when it came to conversation since Toni left, but Shelby had brought a pickaxe, and she'd come to make a hole somewhere.

"Yeah, well, I'm not fishing for sympathy." The blonde pressed, speaking without thinking, flustered by Blaire's response. "But it hasn't not been hard, despite what Toni might think."

Blaire tensed at the mention of Toni. She didn't know why, but the borderline assumption of what Toni's thoughts were, and the life that she lived, made her blood boil. She felt unsettled, like the weight of Shelby's gaze and expectations was a creature trapped under her skin. Her jaw clenched uncomfortably at the idea, so tight it felt wired shut.

But, almost instinctively, Blaire turned towards Shelby, standing face-to-face now, arms rigid and unnatural by her side, before she said, "Not to state the obvious, but we kinda have bigger problems here than your teeth, Shelby. So maybe don't assume anything, especially about Toni —"

"I know, it's just —" Shelby broke off, taken aback by the close proximity that was between them. "Nobody believes me when I say this, but I do have actual problems, like, way more than you can imagine."

"Great," Blaire let out a rueful laugh. "Let's hear 'em."

"Do you have any idea what it's like to have to be pitch perfect every second?" Shelby exhaled deeply, like she'd taken a weight off her shoulders. "To be watched like a hawk for the slightest slip in my words, or the smallest crack in my smile, or if my hem isn't regulation, or if there's a single wobble in my heel?" She rambled, breathless. "Well, then, God help me."

Blaire's eyes betrayed her with a glimmer of sympathy, having noticed the similarities between them, but her words said otherwise: "So you're complaining about being judged when you literally signed up for that?"

"I know, I know but I'm not just talking about pageant stuff." Shelby's voice shook with nervousness. "I feel like everywhere I go, someone's asking me to, like, meet some kind of expectation. It's hard, is all, the pressure."

"Yeah, well, in the world of ballet, it's death by a thousand micro-aggressions. My ballet teacher used to say that pressure made the prettiest of diamonds, just so I'd keep pushing myself towards her standards of perfection." Blaire's voice broke, and Shelby could tell that she'd been holding it back for a while."Do you have any idea how many hours I've spent in pointe shoes trying to perfect a routine? I'd practice until my fucking feet would bleed, day in and day out, just so it'd bring me one step closer to Juilliard. Because then, and only then, would I be able to escape from the fucking nightmare that is my life."

Shelby didn't know what to say, but she found herself trying to get a word in anyway, to explain herself.

"Yeah, but like, you don't..."

"But what, Shelby? You know, if you're trying to out-sad me, it's a losing fucking battle. Because I haven't even scratched the surface!" Blaire spat hotly, with a very obvious lack of sympathy, eyes narrow. "We've all got problems of our own, all right? I mean, for fuck's sake, that's the reason we were all on this goddamn retreat in the first place!"

"But you're free, don't you see that?" Shelby found herself yelling with a fiery passion that she didn't even know she'd had, because Blaire didn't get it; nobody ever would. "You don't have to answer to anyone!"

Blaire didn't understand that Shelby had been hiding for so long that she barely knew what the real her looked like. She didn't understand that Shelby had lost so much, had wanted to cry about it, had wanted to mourn all of it, but she'd never had the chance to.

"Neither do you! Not right now, anyways." Blaire yelled back, eyes dead set on Shelby, frustrations rising. "You're on a deserted island, a million miles away from whatever bullshit expectations you left behind. You know, you're free here, Shelby, and if you're not taking advantage of that, then I don't know what the fuck to tell you!"

Shelby made a frustrated noise, and then, before Blaire even realized what was happening, the blonde lunged forward and kissed her, full on the mouth.

Right there, in those woods, Shelby kissed Blaire.

And in another world, maybe Shelby wouldn't have done it.

But the passion in Blaire's words, the frustration that both of them clearly held inside, the tension between the two of them pulled her forwards, pulled her into Blaire, because she was free, just like Blaire had said.

Their lips pressed together, and Shelby kissed with such a panicky haste that Blaire hadn't even reacted until it was too late. She was paralyzed from the kiss, calming down for the slightest of seconds, realizing where she was, and who she was kissing, only she did it with a heavy ache in her heart that doubled from pushing Shelby's greedy hands off of her, wiping at her own lips to clean herself from Shelby completely.

Blaire had to force herself to step back when Shelby tried to kiss her again to fix them, hands grabbing at her waist, overcome with desperation. She took a step backwards with one hand outstretched to keep the distance, the other covering her mouth in surprise.

Pulling back, Blaire watched as a look of horror took over Shelby's face, and before she could even process the scared look in her eyes, another voice rang out from the silence, from the shadows of the trees —

"What the fuck?"

Blaire turned towards that voice, and she felt her blood run cold, like ice had been inserted into her veins. She walked forward without thinking, stumbling ever so slightly, and as she got closer to the edge of the clearing, she almost forgot how to breathe. Her heart sunk further into her stomach, because she could make out someone standing in front of her, could see those dark eyes she'd grown to love, which were now ablaze with something akin to heartbreak.

Toni.

Sure enough, Toni was there, back from the waterfall, firewood logs in hand, and had just had a front-row seat to Shelby kissing Blaire. Her breathing was heavy as the shock of what she saw started to settle in her mind. Her hands were clenched tightly together now, and her nails were digging into her palms, because all she could do was stand there, mouth agape, in front of Blaire and Shelby, like a deer caught in headlights.

The skin of Blaire's cheeks, raging red a moment ago, had now turned to a sickly pale white. She looked like she'd seen a ghost, which, in all fairness, wasn't too far from the truth, because in the moment that she locked eyes with Toni, it was as if Blaire had been found guilty of an unforgivable crime and sentenced to death.

The silence and stillness, broken only by the occasional heavy breathing, was unbearable. There were no words to explain what had just happened, and Shelby being unable to look anyone in the eye, with her lips still swollen from the kiss, wasn't helping.

Blaire wanted to run. She wanted to keep running and never look back. She wanted to be anywhere else than stuck between Shelby and Toni, with nowhere to go.

Everything was her fault.

She should've pushed Shelby away sooner.

She should've said something before it was too late.

Now, despite it all, Blaire was forced to stand there, helplessly defeated. She was angry at Shelby for kissing her. She was angry at Toni for jumping to conclusions. But, more than that, she was angry with the world for putting her on this godforsaken island with no way out.

"Toni..."

The word slipped, broken and hopeless, out of Blaire's mouth before she'd even meant it to, because she didn't know how else to fix things without revealing too much in front of Shelby.

But without so much as a one-worded response, Toni turned away from her and took off the way she'd came, dropping the firewood she'd collected in a quick motion, before she did something she'd regret.

She wanted to punch something.

She needed to punch something.

Toni rushed through the trees, wondering how she'd been so stupid to let one person have such control over her heart. The forest sounded beneath her feet as she moved, with an outstanding, fury-driven pace, and Blaire hadn't even spared Shelby a second look before she took off after the basketball player.

"Toni, wait!"

But Toni was too set in her efforts to stop herself, and Blaire's protests went completely unnoticed. She kept running, ignoring the pleas from Blaire telling her to come back, and the distant sounds of animals in the forest whose whereabouts she did not yet know.

"Toni! TONI!"

Blaire kept running, and though every breath seemed to shred her lungs, and the stitch in her chest felt like a fire burning inside her, she sped up as an unbidden voice in her head said: "Not like this, no, no..."

In the distance, far ahead of her, she caught a glimpse of the back of Toni's head through the trees. Blaire launched herself after the basketball player again, but her foot caught on an overgrown tree root, and before she could steady herself, she tripped and fell onto the ground, trapped.

THUD!

Shaking with an overwhelming array of emotions, Blaire tried to pry herself free, to no avail. She knew that Toni was out there somewhere, trying to escape the conversation they had to have, and Blaire couldn't believe how quickly everything seemed to fall apart.

"Fuck, fuck... FUCK!"

Her voice broke repeatedly, and the tears pressed against her eyes. She was too caught up in her own reverie to even acknowledge her surroundings, to notice how her shouts of frustration had drawn the most ferocious of animals in the forest to her.

She wasn't alone anymore —

Because right there, a few yards away, a lone coyote had appeared, crawling out from beyond the trees with a low growl, sights set on Blaire. The coyote's muscles rippled under its fur coat, and its teeth barred, the saliva dripped from the ends of its razor-sharp fangs.

That was the only warning Blaire got before it lunged.

Blaire was caught off guard when the animal suddenly collided into her from the side and sent her sprawling back onto the ground. The bloodcurdling scream she let out had been caught in her throat by the hard impact, and even the air in her lungs dissolved into nothingness. Her head was pressed into the hard ground, sending a new wave of pain through her body.

"Help! HELP!"

She tried to shield her face from the vicious attack of the coyote, but the wild animal managed one clean slash down the side of her face, and Blaire's vision was soon distorted by the blood dripping from the wound. She screamed in agony as the coyote's claws sunk deeper into her skull, running down across her right eye, before retracting and sliding down the left of her lip.

Her body fought back, kicking wildly, but the coyote was relentless, nipping and gnawing at her skin. Blaire even tried to lift the animal's weight from her body, and her weak show of strength seemed to work for a split second, because she managed to keep the coyote's razor-sharp teeth away from her throat.

"Toni! Shelby!" Blaire managed to scream again, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth as the strength of the coyote began to overpower her own.

I'm going to die. I'm going to die.

The voice in her head kept repeating the same thing, on a haunting loop, and in her delirious mind, she couldn't fully comprehend what was happening. The bloodied cuts and dark purple bruises quickly returned against her skin, but the hurt as she tried to crawl backwards, to pull herself free, was nothing compared to the terror swimming in her dizzy vision.

The only physical pain that could compete with the coyote threatening to maul her to death, was the agonizing surge of pain coming from her head. Still, the coyote clawed at her, catching every step Blaire took to get away, and kept her pinned. Her vocal chords threatened to shatter with every cry for help.

In her head, overflowing, was every horror replaying on a constant loop. In her throat, suffocating, was every cry for help that left her lips too early, too late, or not at all, because she was too afraid... too lost...

Blaire's world seemed to be whirring wildly, her heart pounding, and just when she thought that no one was coming to save her, she heard the coyote let out a howling squeal of pain, and saw the life leave its eyes, before it dropped dead on her chest, out of nowhere.

"Blaire! Oh my God, are you all right?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell happened?"

With a sharp intake of breath, Blaire's eyes snapped open, and she spottily blinked in her surroundings. She briefly saw the silhouettes of two people above her, but winced nonetheless at the dead animal on top of her, as if it would soon lunge and finish the job. The whole thing felt like a cruel joke, similar to the plane crash, which ripped her from blissful peace and placed her into this never-ending nightmare.

"Toni..." Blaire mumbled weakly, as if it was the only word she knew, before staring up at her saviours.

"Wrong bitch, bitch." The sound of Fatin's familiar laugh caught Blaire by immediate surprise. She looked up, watching as Fatin kicked the dead coyote off of her before she knelt on the ground. "That fucker got you good, huh? But hey, it's nothing our resident redheaded doctor can't fix — WATCH IT! You're getting blood on my Givenchy!"

"Fatin, what are you...?"

Blaire's voice was shaky as she held a hand over her bleeding eye. Then, even through distorted vision, the other person caught her focus, and Blaire quickly noticed Shelby standing over her, a large rock covered in blood in her hands. Shelby had become much softer in the face since their kiss, though the redness in her cheeks returned when Blaire met her gaze.

"Sh-Shelby...?"

"Are you okay?" The blonde whispered, eyes wide, dropping the rock by the corpse of the wild animal. "I heard you screaming, and I was so scared that —"

But Blaire managed a weak nod, in appreciation.

"I'm okay, thanks t-to you guys."

"Yeah, yeah," Fatin replied cockily, helping Blaire to her feet. "I couldn't just sit back and let my new bestie get mauled to death now, could I?"

Shelby furrowed her brows.

"But I was the one who —"

"Let me have my hero moment, all right, dentures?"

With a stupendous effort, Blaire scrambled to her feet with the help of Fatin, feeling uneasy as she tried to steady herself on her friend's shoulders, before she asked, "H-How did you find me?"

"I knew there was something wrong when Toni came back without you," Fatin shrugged, swinging an arm around Blaire, who, she noticed, was trying to force herself to stay awake. "So I came looking for you and ran into little miss youth counsellor, over here."

Shelby crossed her arms over her chest and nodded, still avoiding eye-contact after what happened. "We were on the edge of the forest when we heard you screaming." She confirmed, a pinkness in her cheeks.

"Well, t-thanks again, both of you." Blaire mumbled, slurring her words, blinking a few times. Her eyes looked glossy, as if she was in a trance. She was losing a lot of blood, more and more with each passing second, and as the adrenaline of the attack wore off, she could feel it beginning to take its toll on her body.

Everything was hurting.

Something felt like it pierced her chest, and suddenly the difficulty to breathe became less difficult and more impossible. Every breath was shorter, smaller, less fulfilling than the last, and all Blaire wanted to do was cry out for help. She felt her chest tightened as she walked with Fatin and Shelby towards the beach, and all she could could think about was how much blood was spilling out into her hands, the crimson running down her arms as her lips slowly tinted blue.

"Fatin, I don't feel so good..."

And before Fatin or Shelby could react, Blaire spent the last breath left in her lungs on those words and slumped to the ground, her eyes rolling in her head.

"BLAIRE!"

─── • ───

With a long-suffering sigh, and stormy eyes, Blaire took a breath. She was abruptly thankful that she was deemed too fragile for Faber to ever order she be given a sedative. Even when she was yelling and sobbing, freaking out, calling for help — the worst they did was leave her alone.

But now, as she recalled one of the most painful events from her time on the island, Blaire could not think of a clever way to reroute the conversation towards safer territory. She shut down, like an oyster, like those fucking mussels Rachel brought to shore on the twelfth day, clamming up and keeping her poisonous secrets hidden.

Minutes later, Blaire could still hear the ugly, compact, gelatinous silence, stretching, weighing on her, like the way water pressed downward when someone sunk to the ocean floor. Faber and Agent Young let her stew in the silence for a while, maybe hoping that she would start talking out of sheer awkwardness, but she didn't break. Instead, she sat rigidly in her mildly uncomfortable metal chair, avoiding eye contact, a scarred girl turned mute.

Eventually, taking pity on her, Agent Young launched into speech about the importance of honest communication and conflict resolution, or something equally dumb, and Blaire hadn't paid him any attention. Instead, her eyes shifted towards the leg of the table, cataloguing small details, as if collecting evidence of the others that were once in her position. She noticed a few scratch marks on the floor, and immediately thought of Toni, of how she'd often tap her foot whenever she felt like running away.

Blaire felt her hands trembled slightly at this.

Sudden coldness seeped from the ground through her clothes, inhospitable, unforgivable, but she paid it no mind, and started playing with the rings on her fingers. Again, and again, until the only thing left on her mind was how Faber wrote with such ferocity that the sound of pen on paper made her heart beat painfully fast in her throat.

And then, because nothing good — nothing mediocre, even — could last, Faber had to open his mouth. "It's such a relief that Shelby and Fatin were there for you, just when you needed them most. How you got those scars is quite... compelling, I must say."

"Yeah, well, either I'm embellishing the story for dramatic effect, or I'm the only one telling the truth in a room full of liars." Blaire responded, eyes shifting between both agents. She was agitated, and there was something dangerously bitter in the downward curve of her mouth. "It begs the question: how do we even know what's real anymore...?"

─── • ───

MEANWHILE...

The beam of the projector lamp floated overhead as every glow but the one so absorbingly casting out debacle from floor to ceiling, from wall to wall, was ignored in favor of watching the chaos unfold. Computer monitors, live camera feeds, voice recorders — all inconsequential. All ineffective to stopping the slack effort of one person, and brilliance of another, from coinciding.

If modern wonders were to have any role, it would be limited to cleaning up a resulting mess. But in the moment — in the stinging hush of ominous worry —there was nothing that could be done except leave wide eyes fixed on the gray tones of camera feeds.

Gretchen Klein stood in the control room, which was made of too much concrete and known only by those with too little heart, and was gagged by her own oversight in addition to the non-disclosure agreement of its cold pursuit.

"Audrey." She spoke with levelled breath, muted not by indifference but by charade. Leadership. Grey tones had placed a hurricane in her throat, but it was not allowed to escape. "Find Alex. I want the whole team in here for this."

It was an order accepted with a dutiful nod, and a private exhale for knowing permission to leave the room was a relief, despite however brief it might've proven to be.

And it was a relief not granted to Thom and Susan; whose eyes shifted away from the camera feeds on the wall as muted, bare footsteps across the concrete floor broke their line of sight. They glanced at each other, then turned their heads back toward the unmoving waves of hair at the shoulders of Gretchen's straight-line blazer as she made her her way towards the front of the room for a closer view of feeds and fears.

The hurricane in her throat intensified.

"Is there anything we can do?" Susan asked, after deciding wilful participation was a better look than slinking into shadows. "Should we send in medical?"

But her questions received no immediate response, and the doors reopened before there was a chance to discover if she was set to receive a delayed answer.

Three sets of footsteps entered, all of which were heavy and echoing. But there was an unexpected clicking of heels to one that wasn't present with the other two, and it walked the length of the room to the projected monitors.

"Gretchen," Audrey whispered, a little nervously, as she walked up to her boss. "There's someone here to see you."

The click of a pen cap being secured in its rightful place was heard before Gretchen turned to address the room. She was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard a quiet exhale, followed by the familiar quiet cursing of the person she'd dreaded to see.

The benefactor.

She had shown up for a surprise visit, looking tired yet put together. Her crimson red blazer was held together with a single button, complete with matching heels and straightened dark brown hair that tied the look together.

The benefactor blinked a little as she took in the sudden brightness of the monitors; the one closest to her had a repeating loop of Blaire's attack. She could barely bring herself to watch the live feed in its entirety though, because she turned away and narrowed her eyes towards her business partner.

"My deepest apologies for showing up unannounced," She said with unintended sarcasm, before she paused to reset, "but given your inability to return my phone calls, I had to take matters into my own hands."

Gretchen locked eyes with the benefactor, in her customary way that was almost like looking straight through her. "No apologies necessary." She waved her off, reaching for a tablet. "In fact, I'm glad you're here. Because the tide is finally turning. Thanks to your investment, we're closer than ever to ending the old paradigm and realizing our dreams for the future."

"That isn't why I'm here." The benefactor clarified, eyes narrowing, and Gretchen pulled anxiously at the sleeves of her turtleneck. "In case you've forgotten, we had a deal about what this experiment was supposed to be —"

But Gretchen was saved, because Susan stepped out from behind her computer, into the aisle space between the rows of desks. "Fire, water, shelter: These are just a few of the milestones our subjects have reached thus far —"

The benefactor held up a silencing hand. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?" She asked of Gretchen. "Because this — what's happening on that island — is approaching what I would be more than happy to define as a literal disaster."

Gretchen awkwardly consulted with the tablet in her hand, glancing to the feeds still on the wall. "Things might still be salvageable, only if we maintain belief that this study will deliver the outcome we've all been dreaming of." She responded quietly, not revealing any further information. "And while I have no explanation you'd deem substantial in regards to Blaire's attack, you should be happy to know that our independently minded subjects are starting to cohere, to share their thoughts and their fears, as they work toward solving the challenges they face together —"

"Well, if that doesn't perfectly encapsulate why you are still so unsuccessful..." The benefactor jeered, charade slipping in the indignation of Gretchen not even bothering to attempt one of competence. "I mean, do you not hear yourself right now?"

"Listen, I know what happened to Blaire was not ideal —" Gretchen tried, but before she could go on a tirade, she was interrupted again by the benefactor.

"She's my daughter, Gretchen!" The benefactor raised her voice, and the stinging hush of ominous worry returned to the room as wide eyes resumed watching grey figures of animation. "My daughter! And your niece, in case you've forgotten! She's not just another one of your pointless experiments. I mean, for God's sake, I told you that the only caveat I had about this entire thing was her safety!"

"I know, Susanne," Gretchen threw her head back up at her sister, arms outstretched. "And yes, it's true that what we're doing involves substantial risk, but every game-changing endeavor does, and that is what we're after here: radical game change. We both knew of the consequences. Resources would be lost, and blood would be shed, just as we'd anticipated. That was the reason we inserted an operative who had been fully briefed and was firmly under our control. She functions more as a failsafe, someone with wilderness skill who can reach out in an emergency like the one we're currently in."

Susanne Diamante's arms calmed as she pondered, folding across her chest. "Perhaps. But that doesn't change the fact that my daughter almost died out there now, does it?" She turned to the camera feeds again, studying the one in the top right corner, the one of eight girls tending to Blaire's unconscious body. "Listen, I've sacrificed everything for this experiment. My marriage, and my children, because I believed you when you said that true success required sacrifice! But this... this is one sacrifice I am not willing to make." She paused, taking a challenging step with a click of her heel. "So I'm warning you, little sister. However hard you think this is gonna be, count on it being much harder if anything else happens to Blaire."

Gretchen nodded dutifully. "I understand."

"No, I'm not sure you do." Susanne sighed, then drew her little sister's attention to the live camera feed of Blaire's unconscious body. "You told me that you wanted to do something real, and I believed you. But you, my dear sister, have been working on a theoretical level for such a long time —"

"Susanne, please, you need to trust me." Gretchen glanced over at the camera feeds again, noting nothing of particular interest, before she joined her team at their monitors, attempting to end the conversation.

"And I do. Perhaps too much." Susanne looked away from the monitors, then shot a cautionary, if pitiful, look over her shoulder as she walked over and grabbed the handle of the control room door. "But I want you to be prepared for how brutal real life will be if something happens to my daughter out there."

─── • ───

BACK ON THE ISLAND...

It was quiet, and it was cold. Luckily, the rather bleak and dull atmosphere did not stop the cool sea breeze from rattling Blaire back into consciousness. She shot upwards, startled, next to the flickering light of the campfire, under the midday sun. The sight of the camp swirled back into her focus, and she could see, out of only one eye, that Dot, with evident concern in her eyes, was dabbing at her wounds with a wet cloth.

And there were moments, or snippets of time, where Blaire felt an eerie sense of déjà vu as she looked around the beach. It wasn't like she'd experienced this moment more than once, but more of a feeling best described as knowing the outcome of a book before reading that last chapter. Similar to how she felt a little psychic when she'd get high, and somehow became an omnipresent narrator of her friends' lives. She didn't think too much of it, but her anxious and moderately deranged mind ran with it regardless.

Because the others, each scattered a few yards down the beach, were waiting, and pacing back-and-forth, and biting at fingernails. It was as if they'd all seen a ghost, but not in a religious or fated sense.

No, definitely not.

More like some cosmic joke. One, in which, Blaire played a comedic anecdote, or a small footnote, in someone else's life story.

But no one dared to speak at the sight of her coming to, because what had happened wasn't something that could be put into words, and only proved to be a horrid reminder of what was at stake on the island...

Then, all too quickly, Blaire remember what happened. She remembered the coyote, and the strength behind its jaws. The taste of blood, thick and metallic, on her tongue, and how she had to work past her nausea to swallow. She still felt the fear in her belly, paralyzing, and the anger burning underneath her skin, untamed.

Misery.

"Hey, you're awake," Dot's voice rang out through the silence, and Blaire, lost in her thoughts, almost didn't hear her. "Thank fuck, honestly. Because you scared the shit out of me." She said awkwardly, though she wasn't quite sure why. "Try not to, like, strain yourself too much, okay? You lost a lot of blood."

There was a lighthearted sob of relief in Dot's voice, and Blaire pulled herself into a sitting position. She fought her way through the fog, and the weakness, and total exhaustion from her fight to survive.

"Where's T-Toni?" The words slipped from her mouth, weakly, because it was the only thing on her mind.

"Toni? Martha's trying to calm her down." Something about Dot's voice, the tired helplessness in it, made Blaire's heart clench. "Everything kinda went to shit after you left. The twins got into, like, this huge fucking fight. Leah and I tried to intervene, but that just made things worse. Everyone was yelling, and fighting, and Toni came back pissed for whatever reason. But when Fatin and Shelby dragged you back to camp, everyone, and everything, just kind of... stopped, I guess? The whole thing took us by surprise, and it was fucking scary, because none of us really knew what to do."

"You could've fooled me." Blaire readjusted the gauze covering her bleeding eye. "How long have I been knocked out?"

"I don't know, a couple hours." Dot replied, looking down. "Time's kind of a big fucking mystery around here."

Nodding, Blaire then raised a hand to her bottom lip, and brushed her fingertips across the scarred skin. "Be honest, Dottie." Her voice trembled slightly upon the words. "H-How bad is it?"

Dot's shoulders immediately tensed. "Pretty bad." She said, truthfully, placing a hand on Blaire's shoulder, comforting. "But the pilot had a sewing needle and some thread in his bag, and I tried to stitch you up the best I could. Safe to say that the hours I've spent watching Bear Grylls on repeat have finally paid off."

Blaire managed a weak smile. "Well, in that case, you got anything to help with the pain, Doctor Dorothy?" She stared into Dot's eyes as she held her head, and wished, suddenly, more than anything, that she could disappear. "Because my head is fucking pounding."

"Sure thing." Dot dragged the pilot's bag over by her booted feet, the zipper opening with a strange sound, swallowed by the waves of the sea. "Here." She handed Blaire two pills of Ibuprofen. "I'd normally give you something a bit stronger, but I think Leah lost the Oxycodone in the forest."

"Right, yeah. Thanks, anyways," Blaire mumbled, guiltily, before swallowing the two pills in a single gulp. She pulled her knees to her chest, hoping the medication would tame the sorrow clouding her mind, and push it far, far away until it became manageable once more. There was a lump in her throat, and suddenly she couldn't bear the thought of looking Dot in the eyes.

Her arms around wrapped tightly around her legs as blood flowed again under her skin, driving away the numbness. Dot smiled, silent and solid at Blaire's side, an unexpected confidant. And Blaire's tears dried, her heart lulled into contentment, into a sort of peaceful awareness that she was alive, and safe, and not as alone as she once believed.

But then, just as the silence was becoming too much to bear, Fatin cornered Blaire and Dot by the campfire.

"Look who's awake!" She motioned towards Blaire, and though she intended to sound light, and casual, because Fatin hadn't let herself process an alternative where Blaire hadn't woken up, there was still an awful, pathetic, and unmistakable relieved aspect to her words. "Oh, I'm loving this whole pirate look you've got going on, B."

"Fuck off," Blaire laughed, through the inconvenient lump in her throat. She then stretched out her leg, and prodded Dot's thigh with her foot. "Hey, how long you think I'll have to keep the scar covered up?"

"Long enough to prevent infection, I guess." Dot shrugged her shoulders, before she smirked. "But, if you want my advice, keep that thing on as long as possible. It'll make the others help you out with your chores."

"Fuck no, I'm not getting stuck with water duty three days in a row." Fatin grunted, and Blaire heard a very undignified giggle escape from Dot's lips. "I'm not let you fuck me over again, B." She winked at her. "Though, as I've said repeatedly, I'd let you fuck me."

Blaire rolled her eyes. "Jesus Christ, keep it in your pants!"

"It's not my fault, okay?" Fatin held her hands out in a mock surrender, wiggling her eyebrows. "I need to get laid."

Dot raised an eyebrow, disgusted. "I could've gone my whole life without hearing that."

"Don't be jealous, Dorothy." Fatin teased, cheerfully, making zero effort to hide her glee. "You and your cargo pants will always hold a special place in my heart."

Blaire's skin darkened across her cheeks, because the memory of her first ever conversation with Dot and Fatin, before the plane crash, before the never-ending nightmare, stung a little. She suspected it would sting for a while, but it was the disappointment she couldn't bear. The disappointment that no one had come for them, that no one tried to find them...

The silence from Fatin and Dot told her that they felt the same, and Blaire had noticed a change in herself, stretching over the last few days, a sort of candor, as if parts of her facade had crumbled down, revealing underneath the real girl — who was much like the old Blaire, the one before her mother left, and before Finn's abuse, only more vulnerable, and stiller, and both Fatin and Dot were too lost in their own thoughts to even begin to ask Blaire why that was.

"Someone's coming for us, right?" Fatin asked instead, in such a quiet tone that Blaire almost missed it. She sounded blunt, but she wasn't too worried. The Pakistani-American might've been being vulnerable in that moment, but she sure as hell wasn't fragile.

Dot looked down, almost disappointedly. "I've been thinking." She paused. "For the first few days of this, we were on every paper, every tv channel. News vans were in front of our houses, sticking microphones in front of our moms, and our dads, and our fucking dogs. A couple more days go by, and maybe, now, it's only in the local news. But a few more days and — Country A invades country B, Elijah Wood dies, Sasha Obama rips a bong, and then..."

"We're no longer in the conversation." Blaire finished for Dot, exhaling slowly, before she forced herself to look Fatin in the eye, and admit out loud, for the first time: "The rest of the world's moved on."

And even as she spoke, talking about how the world had forgotten about them, and how they were stuck, Blaire's heart ached. Because they were already losing hope, already confining themselves to this island for the rest of time. She wanted to keep believing in their salvation, but after everything, Blaire was just as tired as the rest of them.

She was just so tired.

Dot cleared her throat, continuing, "I mean, maybe we've got some diehards out there, people who love us enough to keep making noise and pounding the pavement, but it's been..." She trailed off again, struck by the severity of what she was saying. "It's been fifteen days and searches don't last forever, not without leads, not without cash. We are stuck here. So let's just hope that, after everything that happened today, this place puts us out of our misery before we do it to ourselves."

Misery.

There it was again. The word catapulted into Blaire's mind unwillingly. She tried to push it away, somehow knowing how this thought would conclude. It would go down in flames, due to a desperation to hold on, a hurt that would start the never-ending cycle again...

And it was fucking painful to think about.

But Blaire was probably just overthinking.

She hoped she was, at least. Because it was probably just the combination of pain, and anxiety, and the familiar sense of defeat that left her mind spiralling.

But before the mood turned completely somber, and while the three of them were still sitting together on the sand, there was sound that emitted from the sky, like an ironic sign of hope from God, himself —

A plane.

Fatin jumped up first, because she almost couldn't believe what she was seeing. She tried flagging down the plane as the others were quick to join her on the shoreline of the beach, each of them screaming in overjoyed excitement, after having heard the engine swallow all sound over their heads.

No one needed to know about Blaire's internal panic, and she was quick to stand and launch herself into Fatin's arms, hoping Fatin just assumed that she was shaking with excitement. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly as she clung to Fatin, the other girls continuing to cheer behind them.

"They see us! THEY FUCKING SEE US!"

When she opened her eyes again, Blaire felt like her world was pulled into hyper-focus. She caught Toni staring back at her, over Fatin's shoulder, looking guilty for how she'd left things between them. Her intense stare kept Blaire's full attention, and everything except her and Toni, in that moment, faded away.

"We're going home," Toni mouthed, and Blaire just nodded against Fatin's shoulder, unable to put the past behind her. She even bit down on the inside of her cheek to prevent an apology from slipping out.

And it was so selfish for Blaire to hold Toni's gaze for so long, because this was Blaire fault, and she didn't know how to fix it. She didn't think there was a way to fix it now, especially after seeing the look of betrayal on Toni's face when she saw the kiss.

"B, are you okay?" Fatin asked finally, gently pulling back. She held onto Blaire's shoulders, eyebrows pulling together as her dark eyes studied Blaire's face.

"Yeah, I'm – I'm good," Blaire stuttered, breaking eye-contact with Toni. She lifted her hand, hesitating, then swiped her thumb gently along the scar on her lip again, through the trail of tears that Blaire hadn't realized she was shedding. "I'm just so happy to be getting out of this shithole." She whispered, and Fatin agreed before pulling Blaire back into her arms.

With a forced laughed, Blaire closed her eyes again, trying to block out the sound of celebration around her, focusing on the feeling of Fatin's ridiculous cheetah-printed tracksuit beneath her chin.

She didn't know what to think. Her head was spinning in circles, and no path that it went down made any sense. Everyone was so sure that this meant freedom, this meant salvation. They were going to get rescued, after two weeks, and they were going to be happy...

Because they would be free from this island.

Home.

They were going home.

But the word didn't seem to describe New York anymore; the house there, all the cold stares, and dangerous silences.

Blaire didn't even know if she wanted to go home.

Because while the island was horrible, at least Finn's hands around her throat were imagined, not real...

And then there was Toni, and the foundation of their relationship that they'd shared on the island. Was that just supposed to be forgotten now? Because if it was, how could Blaire ever move on knowing what Toni's lips felt like on hers, and who she was as a person, and what she meant to Blaire after just fifteen days?

These thoughts crippled Blaire, and she just buried her head into Fatin's shoulder, letting the tears fall.

And without Blaire even realizing it, Toni still kept her eyes on her, even as Martha pulled her best friend in for a hug, because Toni, too, was starting to have a hard time figuring out what the truth was, and what the lies were. The only thing she knew for sure was that she wanted to be the one comforting Blaire, and holding her close, and savouring what little time they had left.

But they were trapped.

Trapped at home, trapped on this island, trapped everywhere they looked, shut in by their own feelings.

They would never escape.

There was no escape for either of them, because the truth, they realized, was that neither being stranded or being saved kept them together long enough...

─── • ───

The interrogation came to its conclusion at five o'clock on the dot, and when the end finally dawned, it felt a little like a death knell.

By that point, the high Blaire had felt at thinking and reconciling with her memories had all but faded. In its space was something anxious and prickly, uncomfortably turning over and over. Sure, the worst part was over, but the hardest hadn't even come yet, and Blaire couldn't settle as she sat at the metal table, across from Faber and Agent Young, twisting her rings around her fingers.

Blaire remained still, motionless, as Faber wrote a few more things in the margin of his notes, staring down at the metal of the table until her vision blurred. She heard Agent Young mumble something under his breath, as always, and Faber clear his throat, as always, before they both looked up at Blaire again. But even under their shared gazes, Blaire just sat, playing with her rings, feeling herself sink further and further down in her seat.

Faber removed his glasses before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Well, Blaire," he started, with a sigh. "Guess it's safe to say that the island really was a world of its own, wasn't it?"

Blaire looked up, struck by those words.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, really." Faber responded at once, shrugging his shoulders. "It's just something that Leah told us about. Something that you two used to talk about on the island."

Blaire's tongue curled, almost on instinct, wanting to snap out. She had a sudden flashback to the last time she and Leah used those exact words, all those months ago. But when the present came swirling back into hyper-focus, she was unable to dismiss the sinking feeling in her stomach.

'There's something magical about an island — the mere word suggests fantasy. You can lose touch with your own world, for an island is a world of its own.'

– Agatha Christie, 'And Then There Were None'

It was a quote from the book her and Leah had talked about on the island, countless times. A quote that solidified the feelings of island castaways, of ten strangers that were summoned as guests to a private island in Hawaii before, one-by-one, they fell prey to chaos.

How could Faber have possibly known about that?

Leah wouldn't have told him, at least not the whole truth. Because that quote held a lot more meaning than they'd even realized. And as though Leah had planned for Faber to bring it up, it now acted as an affirmation for Blaire as to what this place really was.

Nothing was ever just coincidence. Blaire learned that lesson well before the crash, and had been reminded of it everyday since. But it took two seconds of reflection, of her remembering Leah's erratic theories, for Blaire to catch on.

Leah was right, somehow, after all this time.

And it was for that reason that she couldn't let her guard down. She was going to keep asking questions, keep looking for answers. She owed too much to her friends, to Toni, to accept that it was all over when, in fact, it had only just begun.

She chose not to say anything else, because admitting that would be admitting that she was onto something far more complex than what Faber and Agent Young would have her believe. So instead, she cleared her throat, and asked, "Can I go now?"

Faber sighed, like he knew Blaire was being purposely obstinate, but he mercifully didn't push any further. "Sure thing." He gave her a soft smile. "If we have any further questions, we'll be sure to let you know."

Again, Blaire didn't respond. She just avoided eye-contact and kept looking down at the floor. She could almost hear the silent exchange over her head as Faber and Agent Young gave each other significant looks, communicating in the silence, before there was the gentle squeak of chair on metal and Agent Young rose to his feet, clipboard in hand.

"Come on," he said, kindly. "I'll walk you out."

The air was warmed, now, when Blaire and Agent Young exited interrogation room, leaving Faber behind, alone with his thoughts. They moved down the same dimly-lit corridor as before, the corridor Blaire had been escorted down only a couple of hours prior.

Agent Young led the way, heavy-footed in his slick black dress shoes. They were quiet for a bit, whilst Agent Young nervously tapped at the clipboard in his hand and Blaire tried to figure out what the fuck she was supposed to say.

Then, into the silence, with a thick voice full of regret, Agent Young cleared his throat, and said, "I'm really sorry, Blaire."

Blaire wanted to feel vindicated by that somehow, but she didn't. It was a hollow victory. Sure, Agent Young wasn't nearly as intrusive, or suspicious, as Faber – but he wasn't exactly the hero of the story, either. And for that exact reason, Blaire remained quiet until, finally, after what felt like the longest walk of her life, they'd arrived outside the door of her room.

"Here we are." Agent Young motioned towards it, waiting for Blaire to enter before he could lock it behind her.

But she didn't move. Instead, the resolve in the pit of her stomach hardened, and Blaire tried to spot the cameras down the corridor. They hadn't even tried to hide them. Sure, they were small, but not that hard to find. There were three of them hidden in every corner, but none of them were pointed directly towards the door to her room.

As a precaution, Blaire stared right into the camera for a moment, just to see if anyone would react or come for her. Nothing happened, but she liked the idea that she knew they were watching her: it made her feel more in control.

Finally, Blaire turned towards Agent Young and exhaled. Her breath appeared grey, starkly, in the air, before the breeze whisked it away. "Be honest," she said, after a long pause, "am I ever going to see the others again?"

Agent Young's shoulders tensed. Behind them, the cherry red glow on the camera indicated that it was recording.

"Only if we think that's what's best for you."

"And what do you think?"

Agent Young didn't respond.

And just like that, something like panic stabbed at Blaire's chest. "I need to see them." She begged him, desperately.

"Blaire–"

"You can't just lock us away with no explanation." Blaire's chest flared red-hot. "And if you're as sorry as you say you are, you'd understand how fucked up it is to keep us away from each other, right when we need each other most."

Agent Young rubbed at his temple, like he was trying to fend off a migraine. "Listen, I'm not gonna sugar-coat this, Blaire. I can't promise anything here. I know you and the others are desperate to see each other, but my hands are tied —"

"That's not fair," Blaire raised an eyebrow, but it wasn't without sympathy. "Was my opinion ever gonna matter?"

"Like I said," Agent Young regarded her with caution, avoiding the question. "I'm sorry."

Blaire sniffled, just a little.

"That's not good enough."

"Well, you're not exactly making this easy." Agent Young retorted, in a low voice, flailing his hand around ambiguously, almost like Blaire's issues were ghosts stood on the concrete next to them. "Now, while I know you're just trying to come to terms with what happened, this sort of behaviour is destructive, and it's not beneficial to you or your peers."

Blaire tensed with self-consciousness, looking down at the floor so she didn't have to meet Young's gaze. She could only shake her head, because her tongue felt somehow frozen to the roof of her mouth. Around her, everything was moving simultaneously in hyper speed and slow-motion. She felt like the past few days were rearranging in front of her eyes, and she tried to dismiss what she'd been feeling as shock, or surprise, to hide the hope bubbling in her chest.

"Sorry," she muttered, under her breath.

"I really wish I believed that," Agent Young responded, with a sigh, but Blaire heard it in pieces, dazed. She was scared, now. Scared that she had just jeopardized everything. She didn't even realize she'd fallen silent until Agent Young let out a small laugh, and said, "You kids are going to be the death of me one day."

Blaire rolled her eyes, just a little. "Kinda counting on it."

"Don't think I won't write that one up." Agent Young took out his ID card and swiped it against the keypad. The door flashed green, and after hearing an unlocking sound emit from behind it, Young pushed the door open. "Go on." He motioned Blaire inside. "Get some rest. Lord knows it's been a long day."

Blaire reluctantly took two steps inside the dully grey room that she was once confined to. But before Agent Young could shut the door behind her, she whipped herself back around. "Wait!" She spewed out, abruptly. "Do you – do you think you could deliver a message for me, at least?"

"Honestly? No." Agent Young took a single step into the room, unexpectedly, out of sympathy. "But," he whispered, after a long pause, "I can try."

Blaire watched him for a moment. "That's all I want."

"I can't promise anything." Agent Young muttered, nervous, as he carefully watched the cameras out of his peripheral vision. "Though it seems you already know that."

Blaire nodded, albeit a little hesitantly. She turned towards the desk in the corner of her room, with her back to the camera, and wrote five little words on a piece of scrap paper she'd torn from the sudoku puzzle Faber gave her:

And Then There Were None.

Her mind was scrambling to figure out what to do next, but Blaire quickly folded the piece of paper and tucked it into her sweatshirt before turning back around.

While her brain contemplated whether or not she could even trust Agent Young, her legs carried across the room towards him. Blaire resisted the urge to look towards the cameras again, trying not to raise suspicion, and before she'd even thought her plan through, she threw her arms around Agent Young and hugged him, stumbling slightly.

Before he even had the time to question anything, Agent Young felt Blaire slip the piece of paper into the pocket of his suit jacket.

"For Leah." Blaire whispered quietly, into his ear, before she pulled away. Having understood, Agent Young gave her a quick nod against her shoulder, cleared his throat, and headed towards the door again without further questions.

He left a few moments later, with the silent promise of his return a few days later with news of Blaire's message.

And as the door closed behind him, Blaire pretended not to notice the way his shoulders tensed, especially as he turned back towards the cameras, and only allowed the small smile to spread across her face when she was left alone with her thoughts again.

Now, with a camera watching her from the corner of her room, Blaire had no choice but to surrender. She collapsed on the bed, burying her head in the single cotton pillow.

Her thoughts wandered, as always, but they didn't seemed too concerned on the truth behind Leah's theories. No, definitely not. She wouldn't let herself think about that, because she knew she'd she'd drive herself insane. Instead, Blaire's mind was oddly – yet fondly – consumed by how much she missed the simplicity of human touch.

Yes, human touch, despite how ridiculous it sounded.

Because she missed it.

The comfort of it, all in the gentle caress of a finger. Or the brush of lips on the apple of a cheek. Human touch connected her to others when she was happy, excited her in times of passion, gave her hope when she was in love.

She wanted to feel that again.

Blaire needed the touch from the one she loved almost as much as she needed oxygen to breathe. And why was that? Because she never understood the importance of touch – of Toni's touch – until she couldn't have it...

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

what an emotional rollercoaster goddamn loll

how did you guys feel about blaire's episode?? it actually took me such a long time bc i knew there were so many things I wanted to include!! so I really hope you guys liked it <33

also shelby and blaire - did someone say love triangle? hmm toni looks like you've got some competition bbg

stay tuned! we're just getting started...

[insert begging for comments and votes here]

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

xo, selena

p.s. #SAVETHEWILDS

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