There was no doubt that the island they had crashed on was a beautiful place. If it weren't for the trauma, the death and panic that was currently making its way through the group, Matt wouldn't have minded the possibility of being stranded. After all, he presumed the little slice of paradise to be uninhabited, and the water surrounding them was a crystal blue, almost unnatural looking and clear as glass. The air was warm, and the jungle behind them, however daunting, was lush and green. The scene would have made for a perfect picture, something that Matt would have shot with his camera and turned in to be published. It was a shame that his camera was long gone, the expensive equipment blown away by the plane's explosion.

Being employed by National Geographic seemed to impress Shay, and Matt smiled at her enthusiastic intrigue. He hoped that they would be rescued soon because Matt wanted to get back to his job and if they got off of the island soon enough, he would still be able to make his deadline. The parrot project was really important to him. As Shay spoke about herself, and traveling, Matt continued to gather wood for a fire. He understood where she was coming from, having run away to Europe himself, although he hadn't actually graduated himself. “Nothing wrong with that,” he shrugged, his eyes following hers to the burning wreckage in the distance. “Traveling, I mean. College is...” he shook his head, laughing curtly, “I hated it. I dropped out and went to Paris instead of finishing. At least you got your degree.” 

Reaching for a few more large sticks, Matt handed a few to Shay. He wanted to stay away from the others while they were fixing Maya's hip and having more wood than necessary seemed like a good thing. “South America, though,” he went on, still milling about the trees close to the edge of the jungle. “Have you ever been before or is this your first time?” Matt had been all over South America for both work and pleasure and so many of the countries were beautiful, so much more appealing than anything that could be found back in the states—except for maybe the Grand Canyon.

It was hard to be still when Maya was about to experience an unfathomable amount of pain. She was nervous, and wanted to get up and stumble away as Jack held her down, pressed into the firmer soil by the treeline of the jungle. Her breathing was quick, and she looked from Jack, to Marcus and finally to Ben as he offered her something to bite down on. That offer was generous, but it did little to comfort the woman. She took it from him anyway and placed the pencil between her teeth, the body of it was thick and sturdy, but she hoped she wouldn't crack it in half when Marcus got started. With a deep breath, she took Ben's hand, already squeezing his fingers before she nodded, signaling that she was ready for whatever was to come. 

At Maya's signal, Marcus firmly and quickly pushed the slipped bone back into the socket. There was a loud pop followed by the sound of the woman screaming out in pain, but Marcus kept a grip on her, making sure that she wasn't going to do any more damage to herself. The process was a quick one, but she would need time to heal and rest and the island wasn't exactly an ideal place to recuperate from such a traumatic injury. “It's over,” he told her, noticing the death-grip she had on Ben's hand. “We're done. It's back in place.” 

Maya was left panting and removed the pencil from her mouth, which was now dented with teeth marks. “Thanks...” she said, and finally let go of Ben's hand. “I can help with the fire now,” she mentioned, although she was feeling a little light-headed.

Marcus disagreed. “Take your time. We don't want to have to reset it if you push yourself too hard.”

The commotion over Maya seemed to have died down, and Matt was ready to return to the group. “I think it's safe now,” he said to Shay and began to make his way back over to everyone, arms full of wood for the fire.