He walks amongst us, but he is not one of us.

[Jack's in the infirmary, and has been pretty much since port ended, give or take a few hours - it had been his first stop after getting himself cleaned up a little, and after finding out Banner and David are pretty much down for the count for the time being, he doesn't feel like leaving is really a responsible decision to make. He might still be feeling less than charitable towards a good percentage of the population here, but he's a doctor. He's pretty much the only one they've got right now, and he cares about enough people even tangentially to not want to leave.

Unfortunately, he's still not a warden, so his access to certain things is restricted, which is still a sore spot, but. He is trying to suck it up for the time being.

So he looks pretty well put together, in a clean set of blue scrubs with a white lab coat, and is currently standing in front of some of the cabinets in the infirmary. He looks a little tired, but attempts a smile for the camera, and it looks genuine enough. Again, tired, maybe a little strained, but not fake.]

For anyone who hasn't met me yet, I'm Dr. Jack Shephard, and I was a spinal surgeon in Los Angeles for years before coming here. The infirmary's still open for anyone who needs medical attention, but we're short staffed. If you've signed up as one of our on call wardens or have any medical experience or training at all, [with the obvious exception of Dr. Lecter :v] We'd definitely appreciate having some extra hands once you feel up to helping out.

And even if you think you might need medical attention, I suggest you stop by. Better to get it looked at now before you're face down in the hallway with a gangrenous blister.

[He's about to leave it at that, but then his face screws up in thought for a moment, because this is something he's been sitting on for a while now, and the port had really only made it worse.]

A few days after our plane crashed, we started running out of fresh water. We hadn't found any sources of it on the island yet, so everything had to be rationed, but there just wasn't enough to go around for forty seven people sitting around in the hot sun all day. This one guy - someone who'd tried to save a woman who was drowning earlier that morning - tried to come up with a way to pass it out to the people who needed it the most by stealing what was left of it, and everyone else ganged up on him when they caught him. One guy really started wailing on him, and then I showed up and-

[He stops short and chuckles at himself.] I ended up giving this - [His expression screws up again into something self deprecating.] Speech, because I guess everyone needed me to be the leader. Or just needed someone to be, and I happened to be a convenient nominee. Anyway, I said that every man for himself wasn't going to work, and that everyone needed to find a way to contribute, because before the crash? We were all strangers. On the Island, we couldn't be. So if we couldn't live together, then we're going to die alone.

[Which is being said with the conviction and finality of someone who still believes this, and who's said this phrase a million times since that day.]

"Live together, die alone" kind of became a catchphrase for us. Even for people who met up with us who weren't on the plane. [And he still misses them, and still hates that so many of them are dead, now. How many are even left? They still don't know what happened to Sun, why she hadn't been with them when Ajira Flight 316 had gone down.]

I still think that's true, here. Maybe we don't die permanently when we die here, but if we can't figure out a way to work together? You'll get left alone in a bad port like that, or get too busy fighting about how things should work to realize you're missing what you set out to accomplish in the first place. Find some way to contribute. I don't care if you're a warden or an inmate: we're all in this together. And for a lot of us, if we can't learn to live together, we really are going to die alone.

[Private to Scott]

We're getting you an inhaler, and giving ones to anyone else you trust to keep it safe for you in case something like that port happens again. [This isn't something you're going to have a choice about, if his tone of voice is anything to go by.]

Are you still having any symptoms, or did it stop once your powers were restored? And while we're on the subject, do you have a history of any other medical conditions I should be aware of if something like that happens again?

[Private to Stiles]

[... This is slightly more complicated, because he's definitely not a psychologist, and he's not even exactly certain of why Stiles bolted in the first place. They'd tried to follow him, but considering how little they knew about the terrain or whether they'd even been in this cavern before, it had pretty much been a lost cause from the start.]

Did you find Scott?

[That seems safe to start off with.]

[ooc: Feel free to spam Jack in the infirmary if you're in the mood for that!]

[Jack clicks on the video feed and then hesitates, pressing his lips together in a thin line of frustration, like he's trying to decide if saying any of this is a good idea or not.

Apparently it is, because he does eventually start talking.]

About a week after our plane crashed, [Which is still sort of weird to talk about here, where no one had known about it besides Scott and apparently Nathan, but that flood had made him blab about way more than being in a plane crash, so. Here we are.] One of the other survivors got their hands on the flight manifest. We crossed off the names of the people who'd died in the crash, and used it as kind of a baseline to figure out who everyone else was, and why they were on the plane in the first place.

Obviously we don't have something like that, but if there is something big coming - and I guess it sounds like it is - I feel like we should make one to keep track of who's who, what cabin you've been assigned and at least a baseline of where you're from and why you're here. You can include other stuff if you want.

And before someone says it, this isn't some Patriot Act invasion of privacy stunt. You don't have to answer if you don't want, but considering how often people disappear or wind up a completely different person for a couple days, it might be good to have some kind of record of who's where.

So if you could get that information to me over the comms or in person - you can tack a note to my door, if you want - I can keep an updated list in one of the common rooms or the dining hall or something. Wherever's convenient for people.

[Today, Jack sounds almost more resigned than anything else. His breach life hadn't been especially bad, and it feels kind of muddled to him now, like a dream he's trying to convince himself to forget.]

You know, before I got here, I was pretty convinced I'd already seen the weirdest things the world had to offer. And as weird as floods are, I think I'd take my chances with those over whatever that was. [He's got enough things to deal with in his own life without adopting the issues of some other-him, thanks.]

I hope your deals are worth it.

[Filtered to the Infirmary Staff]

[This is something he's been sort of meaning to do for a while now, especially now that he's spending less time sulking and digging his heels in about being here and more time realizing he's been basically sitting around doing nothing for the better part of two months.

He's been here for forty two days. Might as well try to do something useful.]

I don't know how busy you guys are, but if you need an extra set of hands, I've had a lot of experience putting people back together with pretty limited resources or staff. I got my Bachelor's at Columbia, graduated early from UCLA medical school and was a spinal surgeon at St. Sebastian's in LA, if that helps.

And if it doesn't, Scott can vouch for me. [And there's a bitter part of him that's furious that they might actually take him up on that, considering all the experience he's had, all the good he's done and the pressure he's put himself under to help people.

But he knows he'd be suspicious and reluctant to hand over responsibility or control to a relative stranger, especially one in a position where he really didn't necessarily have any reason to trust them.]