She begins to stir with so much attention.  She flutters her eyes, but they don't quite open.  She listens to them over her.  She can't quite piece the meanings of the words together right.  She must have hit her head somewhere through that event.  It is the only way she can account for the waves of dizziness and the absolutely persistent darkness fighting to keep her in its graps.  She remembers those soft blue eyes and pushes to the light.  Those eyes.  That hair.  The boyish charm.  She snapped awake as his voice finally reaches through the darkness to connect to her disjointed thoughts and images.  She looks up and sees not him but another.  Was he wearing an island shirt?  In this weather???  She blinks again, thinking she must have hit her head harder than first thought.<br/><br/>The pain hits her then.  Like a badly dubbed kung-fu movie, the pain took a bit of time to realize itself.  Her hand flies to the back of her head and she scrunches up into a ball.  She does not cry out nor complain.  The tightly closed eyes squeeze out the pain she refuses to verbalize, wetting her cheeks.  Her arms now block her face as the are pulled elbow to elbow in front of her face with hands behind her head.