The Island

"Uh... yeah... no... I don't know..."

"I'm gonna take a look at you, OK? I just wanna see if you've broken anything, just hold still."

Kenny ran his hands over Kate's arms, down her legs, around her torso, feeling for anything out of place and looking for any reaction from her but breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't feel anything out of the ordinary and didn't notice any indication that she felt any pain or discomfort.

Satisfied that she was generally OK, he took a moment to sit up and look around for the first time and felt his relief start to wane immediately. There was nothing but ocean and sky in every direction. He recalled the thought he'd had when they were falling out of the sky, the hope that it would be over quickly, and he couldn't help wondering if their initial survival had only condemned them to a slower, much more unpleasant end.

"Kenny...? Is there... is there water?" Kate's broken, weak voice startled him from that thought and he threw it out of his mind violently as he looked back at her. He took one of the bottles and opened it, holding it gently to her lips.

"Listen Katie... we're... we're OK. We're going to be OK. We just survived something you're not supposed to survive and we're going to survive. Do you hear me? We're going to be OK."

She looked at him, her eyes already starting to have more focus he thought and nodded weakly. There was no way for him to know for certain if what he'd said to her was true but he decided, there and then, that fatalism and hopelessness were his enemies. Looking around he couldn't see much that he had control of, much that he could influence, but he knew he would do anything to make sure Kate survived.

With Kate feeling better, he undertook a closer inventory of the raft. It was bigger than he expected and he noticed from the markings on one side that it was intended for six to nine people. Roughly round in shape, a single inflated arch hung over head and he eventually located a sort of canopy that was designed to hang from it to give them shelter. There was another first aid kit, a little smaller than the one he'd taken from the plane, in a pouch to one side and a lot more he hadn't imagined.

He started to separate it out by potential use, describing it all to Kate as he went, remembering from somewhere that you were supposed to keep talking to a person with concussion.

The first consideration, he thought, had to be food and water and he started to feel immediately better about their chances when he took stock of what they had. There were the twelve liters of water he'd grabbed off the plane and the raft was equipped with a simple looking system for collecting rain water with printed instructions and diagrams. He found nine packages of some kind of ration bar contained in a pocket. From the labels, he read that they contained 2000 calories each and there was even something labelled 'emergency fishing kit', with some hooks and lures and a roll of line.

Without having to think much about it, it started to become clear to him that even if they had to wait days for rescue, even a week, they might just be OK with what they had. It wouldn't be pleasant, but they would make it. Or at least, they wouldn't starve and they wouldn't die of thirst.

The raft's first aid kit included SPF 50 sun block and there were a range of other useful items, a small folding knife, another flashlight that even had spare batteries, lots of ropes and lines of various lengths, some thermal blankets, a compass.

In a separate pile, he put everything designed for signaling. There were some flares and a couple of little handheld reflective gizmos that had 'signal mirror' written on them along with a bunch of little packages that seemed to contain a powder and were labelled 'sea die marker'.

Looking at the signaling pile, his mind automatically started trying to calculate how long it would take for them to be found.

He'd studied their route a little before departure, but he realized any conclusions he made would be total guesswork. From San Francisco, they'd flown west, landing briefly in Hawai'i after something like five hours to refuel before heading south. Their pilot had told them they'd have more or less the same flight time to their destination in French Polynesia. He hadn't been counting but he figured they'd been in the air something like two hours before the crash. With the rough picture of the Pacific he had in his mind, he figured that put them somewhere around half way between Hawai'i and Bora Bora, more or less smack dab right in the center of the vast ocean.

Still, with what little he knew of how air travel worked, he had to assume that someone had been keeping track of the plane, someone would notice they weren't where they were supposed to be. Someone would find them. They had to.

His inventorying really didn't take all that long and, after a quick and totally unnecessary check that the horizon remained nothing but ocean in all directions, he settled himself down on the opposite side of the raft to Kate. She was still pretty out of it but he felt sure his constant talking to her had been a good idea.

As the hours passed though, he felt himself getting tired. As much for something to do as anything else, he started to make some preparations for nightfall. The sea remained more or less calm, just a gentle swell bobbing them up and down and the sky looked good. But he knew that could change and expected at least that it would get a lot colder when the sun went down.

Hooking up the canopy to the inflated arch was a relatively straightforward matter. It was designed to connect on both sides so that they could be totally protected from the elements but Kenny decided to only connect one side, reasoning that as long as the weather remained reasonable he'd rather be able to see and hear what was happening outside.

As it was, the half-canopy provided a reasonable shelter and he broke out a couple of the thermal blankets.

"How are you feeling?" he said to Kate when he was done.

"OK... better I think. I'm not as groggy and my head doesn't hurt so bad. Kenny... are you OK?"

"Not a scratch on me, if you can believe it."

He managed a chuckle and was happy to see Kate smile weakly back at him, although it didn't last long.

"Why did this have to happen to us Ken?" she asked, her face pained now.

"Kate... I... we're gonna be fine, OK? I promise."

"You can't promise that Kenny, not even you."

"Kate-"

"I never should have called that bastard. I'm so sorry Kenny. This is all my fault."

***

Northern California. A Year Ago.

***

Kenny worked hard to avoid it, but the change after that night was impossible to ignore.

It started the next day. Without really any sleep at all, he was pretty exhausted all day working at the warehouse. Saturdays were quieter than normal anyway and his boss, a generally kind and affable man, noticed Kenny was obviously not himself and sent him home early.

But Kenny didn't go home. It was late afternoon, a mild and pleasant day, and he found himself wandering aimlessly around town as his mind churned.

It didn't take him long to decide that they would have to talk about it. Saying nothing, pretending it never happened wasn't a good idea. It would only fester and niggle under the surface. He knew it would.

With that decided, he moved to try to figure out exactly what he'd say and, to know that, he had to decide how he felt. And that wasn't going to come easy.

It had all happened so fast. One minute she was his sister, who he loved and wanted to protect and the next, when she stepped into the living room in that dress, suddenly she was something else as well. A strong, beautiful, desirable woman. And the way she smelled. And the taste of her lips.

He knew she'd been with guys, even knew some of the guys and it had never bothered him. He took it as just a part of her leading the normal life he so desperately wanted for her. He'd never really thought about her as a sexual being. So it confounded him, thinking about how he'd felt laying at home on the couch that night after cumming like a train in his hand, Kate's image superimposing itself on the porn actress he was trying to focus on. The hoping, the wishing that she'd come home alone. Knowing deep down that the sight of her with a man, with another man, would drive him crazy. He tried to convince himself that this wasn't out of jealousy, that he didn't want her for himself, of course he didn't, but it wasn't working.

And then she'd kissed him. Every time he thought about it his eyes closed, his hands went to his head. He felt like he was losing his mind. He remembered how good it had felt, her warmth, her scent, her soft, moist lips, but he knew it shouldn't have, knew his reaction should have been revulsion, anger, something else, something bad.

But he was going around in circles, figuratively and literally, and it was starting to get dark when he finally decided he had to go home, if for no other reason than that he was just too tired to keep walking around.

Back at the apartment, Kate's day was equally confusing, and dark. When she woke, the memory managed to remain hidden for a few moments as she first regretted not taking the time to brush her teeth or take off her make-up before she went to bed.

And then it came back with a bang, enough to make her actually flinch. Her head was pounding so she showered and, as she closed her eyes and hoped the cascading hot water would wash her memories away, flashes from her dreams of Kenny the night before returned. His hands touching her, his hard body on top of hers, his lips devouring her, his steel hard cock sliding into her, filling her like nothing else, like her body had been waiting to be completed by him. She tried to shut them out but it didn't work and she had to get out of the shower when the urge to touch herself became unbearable. She made coffee and decided to take a stroll to the drugstore, both for some fresh air and so she could pick up something to sooth her headache, hoping one or the other might take her mind off it.

But neither worked. Nothing did. She tried to study, tried to watch TV, made an unnecessarily elaborate lunch but it was like everything she did was happening to someone else. Kenny, or more specifically, the feeling of his lips on hers was all she could think about.

She vacillated. On the one hand, she hated herself because it had felt so good. And so right. There had been shock and embarrassment after it happened but she couldn't get away from how it felt, in the moment. Something was wrong with her, she concluded, something terrible. But on the other, it was hard to understand how something that felt so good, so right could be bad, wrong.

So from there, she started to come up with something she could say, something she could do to make it right, some way she could explain it to Kenny, apologize for it that would allow them to move on from it, to forget about it. Surely, she concluded, there could be no other way.

She was in her room that evening when he came home, trying to study again, and she could instantly tell that something was wrong. His calling out for her as soon as he came in the door was as normal a part of her daily life as waking up so when she heard the door open and close and then didn't hear him call her name she closed her eyes and sighed.

She hesitated at her desk, couldn't decide whether to get up and get it over with or wait until he made the first move. She'd been the one who did the wrong thing, not him. Maybe she should let him decide how to start to conversation she dreaded but knew had to happen.

So she sat there, feeling silly and afraid at the same time until she heard a gentle knock on her door.

"Hey... hey Kate. Can, um, can I come in?" Kenny's voice was hesitant, halting and Kate took a deep breath before she answered him to try to settle the sick feeling in her stomach.

"Sure."

She turned in her seat so she was facing the door. Kenny looked exhausted, about as exhausted as she felt and a little wave of sympathy and guilt passed through her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, edging forward and sitting down on the edge of her bed.

"Awful," she said. At least we can be honest about that, she thought. She could see Kenny trying to smile sympathetically.

"Listen... Katie... about..."

"No... wait, Ken, please. Let me... this is my fault. I..."

"It's nobody's fault Kate, OK? And I'm not mad, I promise, I just..."

"Kenny, I'm so sorry. I... I was drunk. Really drunk. And there was this guy at the bar and... and he was really cute and he'd been checking me out. And Sarah and Molly were trying to... you know... and I guess I kind of regretted not... not talking to him so... I don't know, I guess I was in a weird mood and then you were so nice to me yesterday Kenny, buying me that dress and making me go out and everything, I guess... I don't know... the two things just... I was drunk Kenny. I'm really sorry. It'll never happen again. Never. I'm so sorry."

She'd rehearsed it a couple of times, never getting it quite the same, but she was satisfied with it nevertheless. It was as good a line as she'd come up with all day to explain it away and she stared at Kenny, desperate for any sign that he was buying it.

"I know... and... I'm... I'm not mad Kate, like I said, I just... I guess it took me by surprise is all and... well," he said, standing and smiling sheepishly, "let's just put it behind us, OK? You were drunk, you did something silly, it's no big deal."

Kate nearly laughed. No big deal? In some ways, it felt like her whole life was imploding. A part of her wanted desperately to tell him the truth. That she wasn't sorry. That she dreamt about him last night, holding her, kissing her, making love to her. That she wanted him to hold her now. That if he'd just put his arms around her, hold her, kiss her, everything bad she felt would melt away and all would be right with the world. But she knew she couldn't. Knew she never could.

"Right... yeah. Good idea. Thank you Kenny," she said instead.

In the kitchen after their talk, Kenny reflected that, all things considered, it hadn't gone too badly. He knew there were things left unsaid, by both of them, that if they were serious and honest with themselves, there was much more that they maybe should have said, but his instinct to bring the conversation to a close had been strong. Kate looked so helpless, so embarrassed and ashamed, he just couldn't stand to see her like that.

But he could tell, as soon as the next day, that things had changed, and he couldn't figure out how to fix it.

The basic, most fundamental basis of their relationship had changed. An outside observer might not have noticed, and they didn't, but to both of them, everything felt different. For example, they stopped touching, completely. They'd always had a tactile, affectionate bearing between them. People used to say it was cute, adorable even. But that was, evidently, over.

For Kate, after a while, it went to far that she couldn't even bear to touch him. Just the thought of anything from the casual, reassuring hand on a shoulder to the bear hug made her shudder. And it wasn't that she had suddenly become repulsed by him, just the opposite. She just didn't trust herself.

And that was because, more and more as time went by, Kenny came to dominate her fantasies. As the nights wore on, her dreams of them together became more and more vivid, more and more intense. She'd never been a prolific masturbator but, after the first time she gave in to the urge to touch herself as her mind filled with images of her brother, she was getting there and though she tried to stop it, it was always an image of Kenny in her mind when she came.

The realization that things were different, and maybe permanently so, came just as fast for Kenny. It was little things mostly, and he tried not to read too much into them but over time, the accumulation was unmistakable. For one thing, she seemed to avoid looking at him all the time. It was an odd thing to notice but even when they were having a direct conversation Kate seemed to find something else to look at. And, of course, he noticed the touching, or the lack of it. He hadn't actively decided to stop, couldn't remember ever actively deciding to start either, it was just always how they'd been with each other. So he didn't notice immediately that he started to go out of his way not to touch her. Things that had been natural, instinctive, just stopped. Putting his hand on her shoulder when he passed her on the couch on his way to bed, even passing each other in the tight space of the kitchen. More often than not, instead of risking accidentally brushing off her, he'd just wait until she was finished before he went in.

He knew where it had come from, when it had started and, occasionally, he thought about bringing it up again, trying to talk it out properly, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

He swore off porn completely. He'd tried it a few times, as a mechanism to release the tension he was feeling, but every time was like it had been that night. No matter what actress or model he tried to focus his fantasy around, they always morphed into Kate inside his head. So he just stopped.

And slowly, as time went by, he felt her slipping away from him, getting colder, more distant with each passing day. And it hurt. By the time she told him her plan six months later, he was more or less completely despondent.

***

Somewhere in the Pacific. A Year Later.

***

Kenny had noticed the sky getting grey just as it started to get dark and, as night fell, the lack of stars worried him. The sea started to pick up too, and the wind. Nothing terrifying, but definitely noticeable. Enough for him to make the decision to put up the rest of the canopy so the raft was more or less totally enclosed.

Kate had gone quiet since trying to take the blame for their predicament. He'd tried to talk her out of it but he knew that would take some time.

She was back to full alertness by the time night fell and for the first time since it had happened, she started to feel afraid. Up to then, it had all felt like some kind of blur, something unreal, like it was all part of some prank and someone would jump out and yell surprise at any moment. But the darkness and the rain that started to fall soon after brought her back to reality.

Kenny used one of the torches to give them some light and broke open a ration pack. He'd done some basic math on calories and figured they could stretch what they had to more than a week if they were careful. It tasted vaguely like chocolate but sickly sweet. But it was hard to concentrate on the flavor as the noise of the wind and the buffeting waves picked up even more.

Kate didn't even realize she was shaking until Kenny handed her some of the ration bar and she needed her two hands to take it from him. She could see the concern on his face and she tried to look stoic, to tell him she was OK but she didn't think she succeeded and, in any case, she wasn't OK. Not by a long shot.

For a year she'd trained herself to avoid him, trained herself to move away from relying on him as her security blanket, to not think about how safe just knowing he was there made her feel but that was never been meant to be tested under these circumstances and she recognized the urge when it came, the urge to have his arms around her.

They ate in relative silence, or at least they didn't speak. It certainly wasn't quiet. With every passing second it felt like the wind and the waves were getting harder, heavier, louder.

They both tried to tune it out, to focus on themselves, on each other, but it just wasn't possible.

"I think you should try to get some sleep," Kenny said eventually, raising his voice to be heard over the din.