Lost One Shots and Imagines

Jack Shephard- Fine (c)

Jack didn't set out to be the hero of the island, but that was what he became. He was the only one with detailed medical knowledge and that meant everyone had to turn to him when a problem arose. You had become fond of him, but you had started to resent the fact that you had to turn to him for practically any problem you had.

You knew you should turn to him when you had a medical problem, but your stubbornness was far more powerful than your logic. You had been in the jungle gathering any of the fruits that grew in the surrounding trees. You had climbed up one of the trunks a few feet, using the natural footholds that had developed through knots and damage to the tree. Agility hadn't been your strong suit and as you reached to grab one of the ripe fruits, you ended up losing your footing and falling back into the overgrowth.

Most of your body hurt, having landed amongst branches and plants that had left little scratches across your skin and ripped at your clothes. The main ache was from the force of landing on the floor, but a sharp sting brought your attention to your left leg. Your trouser leg had been forced up to reveal a sizeable graze from the tree bark ripping through your skin. A loud grunt escaped you as you clambered up onto your feet and hobbled back to the beach with you not quite bountiful harvest that you had gathered.

You knew it was likely filled with dirt and would probably get infected. The glance you had taken at the injury had only been brief, so you weren't clear to what extent the injury was. Really you should go to Jack, but you didn't want to prove you had to rely on him once again.

For the following hours, you did your best to not have to walk around but when you did, you tried to grit your teeth and not limp too much, but as if on cue, Jack saw you struggling to move around. Whether it was your stumbling or the blood seeping through your trousers, he hadn't needed to be a genius to see something was wrong.

"Are you okay?" He asked, genuine concern on his face.

You nodded your head, scared that pain would be evident in your voice.

"Then why are you limping?"

A deep sigh escaped you, as you tried to swallow your pride, but it wasn't easy.

"I'm fine," you croaked.

"Then show me your leg."

With a displeased expression, you did as you were told, wincing as you rolled up the material of your trousers to reveal the injury. Jack let out a whistle through his teeth as he leaned down to look at it.

"How'd you manage that?" He asked, peering back up at you.

"Fell out a tree."

He shook his head. "Why didn't you come to me? It definitely needs cleaning, maybe a couple of stitches, I can't be sure until I can clearly see it."

You crossed your arms over your chest like a defiant child. "I'm fine."

You were not fine. The pain was searing, and it was beginning to hurt too much to put pressure down on that side of your body, but you weren't going to happily admit that to him.

"Don't be stubborn Y/N," he frowned. "At least let me clean it."

You refused again. The two of you went back and forth a couple of times until your pride had been smothered by the pain.

"Fine, but it's I promise you it's nothing," you huffed.

"I'll be the judge on that."

~*~

Written by Charlotte.

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