The Woman from the Plane [Lost Fanfiction]

Chapter 1: A Significant Other

When the woman woke up, the crash site was still in chaos. The plane was burning—she could see some charred bodies among the dozens of injured, panicked passengers—screaming, crying and wailing for help.

The bag. She looked around. She'd lost it in the crash. Fuck.

She dragged herself to her feet and scrambled aimlessly around the crash site, looking for it. She was dizzy. She touched her forehead, and felt a warm wetness oozing from her hairline. Blood.

She kept going. Before she could do anything else, she needed to get the bag.

She spotted it behind a piece of the plane. She ran to it, and dropped to her knees, checking its contents. Everything was in order. The relief washed over her. She pulled two Swiss passports out and slipped them into the pocket of her pants. She tightened the drawstring on the top and clipped it shut. She put it on, clipping the chest strap. She wasn't losing it again.

"Are you okay?"

She spun around. A handsome man with short dark hair was staring at her with concern. She didn't reply.

"I'm a doctor."

"I think my head is bleeding," she told him, tilting her head forward so that he could see the damage.

He looked at the injury, gently running a finger through her hairline. "What's your name?"

"Audrey," she lied.

"I'm Jack," he told her, carefully examining the wound. "It doesn't look deep, Audrey," he told her, "but you might have a concussion. Try to find a place to sit and take it easy."

"I can't," she told him. "I need to find my husband."

"Was he sitting with you?"

"No, he was a few rows away." She pulled the passports out of her pocket. She opened the first—her own—and put it back in her pocket. She handed him the other. "His name is Dean."

He looked at it, frowning.

"Have you seen him?" She asked, her voice wavering with genuine emotion.

Jack shook his head.

"I need to go look for him."

"You're in rough shape, Audrey, you need to sit. If he's here, he'll find you."

She smiled at him, sadness in her eyes. "You're not married, are you?"

He was taken aback. "Not anymore," he replied, confused.

She looked out at the ocean. "It's just a concussion. I need to find him."

His brows furrowed as he considered whether it was worth arguing with her. "Just be careful," he said eventually. He tried to hand the passport back to her, but she refused to take it back.

"Keep the passport, doc," she told him. "If he shows up, give it to him, and tell him I'm looking for him." She bit her lip, pretending to fight back tears. "If you find him, and he's not..." she trailed off. "At least you'll have a picture."

She patted Jack on the shoulder and darted of down the beach, shouting out for Dean and making some show of looking through the survivors.

Then she ran off into the jungle.

***

The night after the plane crashed, Benjamin Linus woke suddenly from a horrible dream.

He had been standing at his kitchen window. There was a man he didn't recognize holding a gun to his daughter's head. He had others with him—they looked military—mercenaries. There were different men in his house—none of whom he knew—backs against the wall. They seemed to be helping him to defend his home from these invaders, though he couldn't quite put his finger on why.