Aaron's senses came back all at once in a sudden rush of adrenaline. He was surrounded by water, his head bobbing up and down as he sputtered and gasped for a full breath of air. There was sound everywhere, from everything; mothers screamed names of their children as their arms beat down on the water to keep themselves afloat, other passengers wailed from inside the plane as they struggled to get their seat belts off, and the plane itself... that was probably the worst noise, the most deafening one.<br/><br/>One wing of the plane was plunged entirely underwater, taking the first engine and subsequently two generators with it. The other wing stood straight up, and the aircraft stayed stagnant in that ominously vertical position. The plane, above the groaning and creaking of the body trying to separate from itself, made a high-pitched squealing noise as the remaining engine worked double-time to compensate for its counterpart being submerged in water. And through all of that, Aaron could hear his own heart beating out of his chest as he frantically kicked his legs against the water, putting as much distance between himself and that plane as humanly possible.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">Fuck</span>no, no, no, no-"<br/><br/>The blood curdling scream that followed made Aaron push himself to move even faster. The plane's groans grew louder, more insistent, and Aaron risked a glance behind him. If he'd had the presence of mind to scream, he would have. Instead, he recited a prayer in his head to whatever deity bothered to listen as the formerly upright wing of the plane started to lean. He never stopped swimming, desperately trying to get out of the inevitable blast zone, but he did give up hope. When the plane went from a slow slant to a rapidly falling threat, his vision started to dull again, and by the time the wing would have hit the water, he was long gone.<br/><br/>The feel of tangible heat against his face stirred Aaron awake, mostly due to the pain of sand digging itself into a gash on his cheek. It took a moment for reality to settle around him, and even then he was still seeing doubles. But the fact of the matter was that he was<span style="font-style: italic">seeing.</span>He was<span style="font-style: italic">alive.</span>By some miracle, he was alive to feel the heat against his face, the stinging in his cheek, the damp stiffness of his saltwater-covered clothes.<br/><br/>With what little strength remained in his arms after abusing them so frantically to swim away, Aaron pushed at the unsteady ground, the sand sifting between his fingers as he rolled himself over onto his back. It took the wind out of him more than he thought it would, but he took two deep breaths and then propped himself up on his elbows, looking out at the vast spread of ocean that had carried him to whatever beach he was on. He couldn't see the plane itself, but he could still see black smoke billowing up skyward on the horizon. That had to be a couple of miles out, at least. Had he really floated that far? How long had he been out?<br/><br/>His head turned side to side, looking for someone else. Anyone else. For as massive a beach as this was, it was largely deserted. Some suitcases had made their way to short with him, some clothes that were stiff with salt and blood. The site made his stomach sink. Maybe there were people in those piles of clothes scattered about the beach. Maybe there were survivors in the water. Maybe. He couldn't have been the only person to survive... right?<br/><br/>With a groan of pain and discomfort, Aaron shuffled his way to his feet, his fingers idly coming up to his cheek to prod at the gash in his skin. It hurt. All of him hurt, but most of all that hurt. At least the salt in the water had caused the blood to coagulate. As a body modification specialist, he'd seen a lot of blood and couldn't afford to get queasy when someone else bled on him. However, if the cut on his face had been actively bleeding, he was sure he would have lost whatever food he had eaten before the flight.<br/><br/>Further down the shoreline, a pile of clothes stood in a solitary heap in the sand. A little down from that.. "Hey!" he called out to someone sprawled out on the sand, though it wasn't nearly as loud as he had wanted it to be. His throat felt dry and cracked and his voice was more strained than it had ever been. "Hey, are you okay?!"