Journey to the middle of the earth.

Summary: what if sean was in worse shape than what he was after crash landing via kite on the island?

Chapter one:

The last thing he could recall was Trevor calling his name as he was wrenched of the raft

. "sean!" he called bordering on the edge of hysteria as he was buffeted by the force of the wind.

He remembered willing himself to hold on for as long as possible to the kite, then yelling in pain as the rope violently ripped the skin off his fingers as it slid through his hands and then dropping like a stone onto something that was hard. Then, the blackness claimed him.

The first thing he registered was pain. and something gritty in his mouth.

.

Quick check he thought. The stuff in his mouth was sand. Sand? What was sand doing in his mouth? Then the events of last night came back to him in a disjointed flash – trying to stop the sail from getting away – being wrenched off the raft – trevor's terrified yells – slipping and then hitting something that was hard. He shook himself out of his reverie as the events of last night and the new situation that he was in sunk in.

Trying not to panic, he thought right, quick check. He rolled over onto his back and tried to sit up without much success. He lay back down gasping. He lay there for a few minutes letting himself calm down, breathing in time to the waves that were gently breaking along the shoreline. He gingerly tied to sit up again, taking it easy and managed to get himself into a semi - sitting position. He loooked around him. The place seemed deserted and very, very quiet. That was when he noticed a dull ache that was settled , well, pretty much everwhere. He moved his hands slowly through the warm golden sand trying to calm himself. He groaned involuntarily as he looked down at himself. 'shit' he thought to himself. He really did a number on himself this time. There was a huge gash on his left arm and his left wrist seemed to be broken looking at the swelling – as well as large cuts on the interior joints of his fingers on both hands where the rope had skinned them. As he looked down at his torso, panic started to bubble back up to the surface, but he forced it back down. His ribs war quite amazing – a colourful display of blacks, greens and yellow, he figured he must have hit a couple of trees during his descent. He could feel scabs cracking on his back as he twisted, and a few trickles of blood escaping their confines and running down his back. His right kneecap was swollen and shiny, and the skin felt very tight. the bruising had yet to make an appearence, judging by the way he could still sort of move it it was only a fracture or a light break – nothing to serious, he hoped he could put weight on it , he gently tested it adding pressure to see how much it would take. His left leg seemed to be the only part of him that was relatively unscathed. His face for the most part seemed to be okay as well, apart from the large cut on his head and the bruise that dominated along his jawline.

He looked around, noticing his surroundings for the first time.

A few splinters of the raft had washed ashore. It took a moment for him to process this information, and then it dawned on him. Wait, if splinters of the raft was here then the rest of the raft must have come this direction as well and that meant – 'yes!' trevor and hannah must be here somewhere as well, and they can't be too far away.

He gently eased himself up with his good arm and rolled over onto his left knee, making sure that he didn't knock any of his injuries and pushed himself up onto his remaining leg and gingerly tried to put some weight onto his steadily swelling kneecap. He lowered his calf and got about halfway when he yelped with pain, the joint hurt like hell dammit – he should've figured that it would hurt to bend his leg. He looked around. There was a few branches, a couple of planks of wood and the shredded remains of the kite which fortunately included the ropes that had been used to secure it. With any luck he should be able to at least secure his injuries and use some branches to make a crutch.

'right, i'll have to shred the kite to make some wrappings, using... wait what could he use? And then, thank god, he remembered his pocket knife. He took out his knife and hopped over to where the remnants of the sail lay and started methodically cutting it into strips. He bound his knee, rolled his trouser leg down over the wrapped injury and found a length of wood that he snapped to match the length of his leg. He then proceded to tie his leg to it, wincing whenever he shifted his injury.

Finally his leg was secure. He then proceded to do the same to his wrist, binding the gash on his arm at the same time . he had tried to wash the gash, but one drop of saltwater stinging it was enough to put him off the notion and just hope for the best. He then wrapped his back as best he could without being able to see what he was doing and wiped at the cut on his head with some dry cloth, noticing that some kind of goo seemed to be coming out of it.

Yuck! He said. this is even more gross than the time when the toilet blocked back at is mom's house. Poor mom he thought to himself, if only she could see me now – in fact he was kind of glad she didn't because he didn't want to give her a heart attack – he figured he must look pretty rough.

Then, a disturbing thought came to him. How was he gonna impress hannah now? He must "look a right sight", as his grandpa used to say. He brushed that thought away as he started to lift what scant supplies he now had and threw them all into his back pack. Gingerly putting it on over his crudely bandaged back, he hefted it and lifted some more lengths of wood, snapped them roughly and adorned the tops of them with some balls of rolled up cloth, so as to stop them chafing his palms as he leant on them all day, would stop splinters as well. He did an experimental hop with them. They seemed okay. He had spare cloth in his backpack just in case.

He had an experimental drink of some water that was lying in a pool nearby and spat it out disgustedly, realizing that it was seawater. Ugh. He concentrated on getting the salty taste out of his mouth as he walked, limped and hopped for the next hundred yards or so. He gave up, realizing that the only thing that was gonna take the taste out his mouth was food or a drink of non – salty water. That was when he heard a little chirping sound at his ear.

He whipped his head round quickly and saw one of the little glow- in – the – dark birds that he had seen earlier in the cave. The bird flew around his head once almost as if it wee beckoning to him, and he shrugged, and thought well it's not like I have anything to lose. He followed the bird and as he neared a protruding rock , he delightedly realized that there was normal water that he could drink trickling off it. He cupped his hands and took several large gulps before turning around to say thanks to the birdie, as he liked to call it.

He then said – hey can you take me to trevor? The bird for the most part, seemed to understand him and turned to head in the direction that they'd just come from and he followed it, painstakingly slowly, he followed it as best he could with his injuries starting to throb, as it was brought to the forefront of his mind again, in the absence of focusing on needing a drink. He hopped along losing concentration as the temperature steadily climbed.

His vision started to get foggy and that was when he saw the blurry outlines of people in the distance.

"hey!" he shouted, striding foward with renewed vigor. He only vaguely registered tripping and falling to the ground when an explosion of pain hit him and, for the second time since last slipping from the sail that previous night, he blacked out.