Baywatch fic: Five Times Mitch Saved Brody (And the Time that Mattered Most) (2/2)
Continued from PART ONE. Split to make LJ happy.
Five.
Figured.
Brody couldn’t or wouldn’t give Mitch what he wanted.
Was it purposeful? Mitch knew the answer was probably no, but that didn’t make Mitch resent it any less.
Because there were good things, sure, but Brody was impossible. Brody had pissed Mitch off a lot. He’d disappointed him more time than he cared to remember. And then he’d also scared the shit out of him.
All things considered, Mitch would deal with being pissed off and disappointed. That was part of living and growing and changing. But being scared shitless?
Mitch had rather hoped to put that behind them.
But no.
Of course not.
This time at least it was entirely predictable. A dangerous rescue out in the bay. A fishing boat had gotten tangled with a double parasailing vessel, sending both flyers into the water, fully entangled in their gear. They’d gone down and not come up. Their captain had dived down to find their lines had been crossed even worse with the fishing nets. When the fishermen tried to cut the lines, the whole thing had sunk, leaving two victims under the water and all lifeguards on alert.
Mitch had been first out, of course. He and Brody took the jetski out, no debate or banter. They had good reparate, the two of them, but Brody had gotten his shit together on the job. He knew when things were serious, and he knew how to act accordingly.
In fact, Brody had made vast improvements in all areas over the last few months. He’d been at Baywatch close to a year now, and he’d been respectful, reliable and consistent. In short, he’d embraced life at Baywatch wholeheartedly.
Not that he didn’t screw up. This was Brody they were talking about. His personal life was still a mess, and Mitch was still pretty sure he was a functional alcoholic with tendencies toward depression and self-sabotage. Keeping him from self imploding was a full time job, which was why keeping him on as many shifts as possible was the best thing they could do. Brody needed to be grounded, and on the job, Brody was all business.
The bottom line was: Mitch worried about Brody a lot.
But he’d stopped worrying about Brody on the job.
That was a mistake.
Clearly.
Because when Brody said he could handle the extraction underwater, Mitch believed him. Now, Mitch wasn’t stupid. He didn’t send his lifeguards into life threatening situations without proper precautions. But Brody made it all sound so reasonable.
“I have the knife, and I can cut the lines free one at a time,” Brody said. “You’ll be down there, taking them up when I get the down.”
“You’ll need to come up for air,” Mitch reminded him.
“Maybe,” Brody said. “Depends how fast I can cut.”
“You don’t push it,” Mitch told him gruffly. “I don’t want three victims out here.”
The moment he said it, he probably should have known.
“Aw, Mitch,” Brody said, giving him a smirk. “You worried about me?”
Mitch rolled his eyes. “Just cut quickly, okay?” he muttered, diving back under the water with oxygen support for the victims.
Brody grinned at him salaciously as he dived after him. They were lucky the bay was moderately shallow here; the accident hadn’t been too far out. That had allowed them to reach the victims in time, providing supplemental oxygen from a small shared tank. Stephanie and CJ would have more on the backup rig, but the key was to get the parasailers out of the water sooner as opposed to later.
They were both scared, two girls no more than 20. Mitch offered a breath to one of the girls while Brody swam down next to them, deftly brandishing the knife as he started in on the first cord.
Mitch gave the other girl a turn, watching as Brody made quick work of the cords. He was smart about it, too. He focused on the first victim, choosing ropes that specifically ensnared her. When Mitch gave the oxygen back to the first victim, Brody had almost finished, finally yanking a few pieces free and unwrapping the girl’s tangled legs.
She realized she was free with a start, and it was all Mitch could do to catch the oxygen tank and hand it off to the other girl. She took it, looking a little wide-eyed with panic at the thought of being left behind, but Brody had moved closer to her, offering her a smile as he started in on the ropings around her.
Mitch didn’t have time to celebrate the smart move; not with the first victim still in need of fresh air rapidly. Besides, the tank wouldn’t last for long -- and Brody would be needing to surface soon anyway.
Taking the girl to the surface, she burst up gratefully ahead of him, spluttering and crying. Mitch was relieved as well, but mostly because Stephanie had arrived with the boat, and CJ was reaching out, offering a hand out to help hoist the girl to safety.
“We got one more,” Mitch said. “She’s got a short term oxygen tank, but they’ve mostly depleted it.”
“And Brody?” CJ asked, supporting the girl as she sobbed with relief.
“Working the lines,” he said. “Expect us to surface again soon, and have the oxygen ready just in case we need more time.”
“Copy that,” CJ said, and Mitch turned back to the water, taking a deep lung full of air before diving back below the surface again.
The exertion was burning in his muscles, but the adrenaline was invigorating. He used strong kicks to propel himself to the bottom, where the young woman was clearly starting to freak out in earnest despite Brody’s best efforts. She was flailing, and in her anxiety, she dropped the oxygen tank while Brody stopped cutting for a moment, trying to grab her arms to calm her down.
Mitch saw it and quickly interceded. Reaching for the girl, he took her by the shoulders, turning her to face him. He gave Brody a quick glance, ensuring that he was already back to cutting through the mess of wire and rope and plastic cording that was connected to a discarded and still weighted fishing net. Brody was cutting furious, his own face turning red as he let out a string of bubbles.
The girl was starting to hiccup, gulps of air blowing up in bubbles toward the surface, and Mitch knew they were running out of time. She’d been down there too long, and while divers were trained to deal with prolonged underwater exposure, this was a kid. She’d looked for a joyride and ended up trapped. Her resolve was crumbling, and Mitch couldn’t blame her.
All he could do was save her.
He looked at Brody, still frantically cutting. Finally, as the girl’s eyes started to close, Brody threw the last rope free, pushing the girl to see if she would float freely now.
When she did, Mitch didn’t hesitate. The girl was losing consciousness as he pushed toward the surface, faster and faster with each kick. When he broke the surface, he shoved her up, determined to give her as much access to the air as he could. CJ swung into action quickly, taking her from his arms and pulling her on deck and laying her down. Her friend was sobbing nearby, but as CJ adjusted the girl’s airway, she spluttered, coughing up a mouthful of water and starting to breathe.
“You’re okay,” CJ was saying, and she looked back, offering Mitch a smile. “You’re okay.”
It had been close, Mitch knew. But they’d done it. Him and Brody….
He stopped, turning abruptly in the water, expecting to see Brody bobbing behind him. The rescue was over. Brody should have surfaced right behind them.
His stomach plunged down, so low that it felt like it was down on the ocean floor.
I don’t want three victims out there.
His chest suddenly felt unnaturally tight, and he ignored CJ’s call to him as he dove back beneath the water, kicking harder and faster than before as he returned to the site. He could still see the nets, suspended near the bottom. And he could see the lines, messed and floating from the gnarled rigging.
And he could still see Brody, tangled in the middle of it all. But he wasn’t fighting anymore. The knife was gone from his hands, and his arms were floating in front of him, unmoving.
With one last kick, Mitch closed the rest of the distance, trying to assess what had happened. Brody had been cutting the lines, and in his haste to finish, he probably hadn’t paid attention to his own position. And with the second victim freaking out the way she had, Brody had been even more likely to be tangled in the very rescue operation he was orchestrating. Only no one had been left to cut Brody out.
Experimentally, Mitch pulled at the lines, hoping against hope that Brody had simply been too weak from oxygen deprivation to free himself. The lines were well and truly tangled, however.
And where was the damn knife?
Frantic, he scanned the seabed. The oxygen tank was nearby, but Brody was already out cold. He’d never be able to hold it in place while Mitch finished the rescue. He moved forward, pushing Brody’s hair out of his face to pinch his nose before breathing for him. Once, twice. Three times.
That had worked before, when he’d rescued Brody from the cage.
Brody didn’t wake up this time.
Mitch’s own lungs were burning now, and he was going to have to surface soon -- alone -- if he didn’t act quickly.
He pulled, using raw strength, but the ropes held fast. Desperate, he scanned the seabed again and then he saw it -- a glint of metal. He dove down, snatching up the knife and taking it in his hand as he returned to Brody’s side. With quick movements, he started cutting, slicing through strand after strand, hoping that each cut would be the last one. The ropes were stubborn, though. Or Mitch just wasn’t cutting as carefully as Brody had.
Panic was exploding behind his eyes now, and he could feel the pressure building to almost unbearable levels. He always coached his lifeguards to surface when it was necessary, no matter what the state of the victim was. He’d explained that it was the only way to save the victim, that sometimes you had to abandon them if you were ever going to get them to the surface. After all, if you passed out underwater, you didn’t do anyone any good.
You just created another victim.
Brody knew that.
Shit, Brody was a living example of that.
Rather, a not-so-living example.
Mitch knew he should surface, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave Brody. He cut faster, harder, feeling sheer desperation fuel his adrenaline even more. As his own vision started to fade out around the edges, one of the ropes gave way, and the whole knot came loose.
Brody was free.
With a last surge of energy, Mitch gathered up Brody’s limp form and kicked up to the surface. Going to the surface had never felt so long. Mitch felt his vision tunneling dangerously as he moved upward, but the stillness of Brody’s body clutched against his was the only thing he needed to keep him grounded.
Because Mitch needed to be grounded too sometimes.
When he broke the surface, the oxygen flooded his lungs and sunlight momentarily blinded him. Brody was slumped forward in his arms, head dipped toward the water as Mitch reached down, dragging his head back so his airway was exposed to the fresh air. Before he could lean over for rescue breaths, CJ was there again.
Mitch looked up, meeting her grave look.
“I’ve got him,” she said, the words sounded wooden somehow. “Let me help.”
Mitch had always handled Brody on his own this time, but he knew he was in over his head for once. Brody hadn’t bounced back, and Mitch couldn’t do it alone. Brody had slipped away from him, and it was going to be a team effort to get him back.
Numbly, Mitch helped maneuver Brody over the side of the boat, where Stephanie was waiting to help guide Brody to the ground. The girls were off to the side, covered in blankets and dripping safely dry while sirens sounded in the distance. As CJ ran through a routine check of Brody’s vitals, Stephanie reached down to offer him a hand.
Meekly, he accepted it, letting her help him on board. By the time he’d gotten his legs beneath him, CJ was already shaking her head and sitting back. “No pulse, no breathing,” she reported, trying not to notice that this was one of their own she was assessing. She glanced at Mitch. “Starting CPR.”
She scooped up the respirator, placing the mask over Brody’s mouth and nose, and Mitch was already in position on Brody’s other side, lining his hands up for chest compressions. He waited, feeling Brody’s chest rise and fall when CJ squeezed the bag for oxygen, before pressing down hard and fast for the first round of compression. He counted, muttering the numbers beneath his breath, keeping his eyes fixed on his own hands, positioned carefully over Brody’s exposed sternum.
When he was down, CJ didn’t wait to be instructed. She squeezed the bag again, forcing air twice into Brody’s lungs again.
“I’ll get us to shore,” Stephanie said, beckoning the two girls to come with her to the controls. “EMT response is already on the scene.”
Mitch didn’t acknowledge her, but he braced himself as the boat lurched back into motion. He kept his stance, making sure his arms were straight as he pressed forcibly on Brody’s chest for another rapid round of compressions to make Brody’s heart beat. He could feel the give of Brody’s chest, the movement of his bones and muscles, and he used that sensation to remind himself that as long as he kept at it, as long as he didn’t quit, Brody wasn’t dead yet.
Brody couldn’t be dead yet.
Even if the colorless features of the man beneath him suggested exactly the opposite.
He and CJ worked in perfect unison, and Mitch was so transfixed with the task at hand that he hardly notice when the boat hit the shallow water along the shoreline. He could hear a commotion -- Stephanie asking for the crowd to clear away, CJ relinquishing control over the oxygen mask -- and he vaguely recognized the EMTs who were already clamoring on board, ready to help.
“We’ve got it from here,” one of them -- Teresa, Mitch remembered -- said, giving him a professional smile. They’d been here before, all of them. A rescue gone wrong; a victim in need of more help. It was a routine they’d perfected.
Except this couldn’t be routine.
Because on routine rescues, Mitch didn’t know the victim.
On routine rescues, it wasn’t Brody’s life in the balance.
He couldn’t stop.
Teresa’s partner -- Jack, Mitch recalled -- slid in next to him as Teresa picked up the oxygen mask and started in where CJ had left off. “How long has he been down for?”
Mitch knew the answer, but his mouth wasn’t working. Nothing worked except the downward motion to keep Brody’s heart circulating blood to his brain.
Stephanie stepped in next to Teresa, her face grave. “Five minutes, maybe,” she said. “We started CPR immediately.”
Jack was unfurling some equipment, hooking up some leads to a few portable monitors. “Any heartbeat?”
“There was no pulse when we pulled him up,” Stephanie reported, stealing a nervous glance at Mitch, who felt his own throat constricting as he doggedly maintained the rate of compressions.
“Okay,” Jack said. “We need to get a baseline of his vitals--”
Teresa lifted the oxygen mask, glancing over at Mitch.
“Mitch,” Jack said, a little softer now. They knew Mitch, but they had to have recognized Brody. Brody had been a mainstay on the beach over the last few months. Brody hadn’t left Mitch’s side. Brody had become Mitch’s right hand man. Mitch flinched as Jack touched his shoulder. “Mitch.”
Mitch knew the routine, he knew it, and he couldn’t comply. Because he knew the routine didn’t always yield the best results. He knew this routine sometimes ended up with a DOA on the beach. Sometimes, the routine meant a victim didn’t come home.
Brody wasn’t routine. He’d never been routine. He was Brody.
Mitch’s arms were aching; his chest was so tight he could hardly breathe.
“Mitch,” Stephanie said, voice in his ear. “You’ve got to let them try.”
Because the routine saved people sometimes. Some victims did come home. What Mitch was doing, it wasn’t going to save Brody. Mitch had to accept, sooner or later, that Brody’s fate wasn’t his to control. He had to let Brody make his own choices, because the kid had proven he had the mettle to do the right thing.
He’d told Brody once that he was selfish.
And he had to let Brody prove him wrong.
Finally, Mitch pulled back. The instant he relinquished his position, Jack slid into his place neatly, picking up where Mitch left off as he efficiently sliced through the front of Brody’s swim shirt. With monitors attached, Teresa read out Brody’s vitals, and Jack restarted compressions while Teresa started an IV. Mitch watched, numb, as Teresa injected something into the IV before returning to the oxygen mask.
Beneath their ministration, Brody didn’t move. Stephanie stood next to him, a hand on his shoulder. She didn’t have as much invested in Brody as Mitch did, but this was one of their own. She understood.
“Okay,” Jack said, pausing. “What’s his rhythm?”
“Shockable,” Teresa reported.
“Charge it, then,” Jack said, reaching to place the paddles on Brody’s chest.
“Clear,” Teresa called, and when Brody’s body jerked, Mitch flinched.
“Still nothing,” Teresa reported.
“Up the charge,” Jack said.
This time, when Brody convulsed, Mitch thought he might be sick.
Jack said nothing this time, just grimaced. “We can give the epi a few minutes to kick in,” he said, resuming chest compressions. “We need to call it in.”
Behind him, he could hear more commotion on the water, and he heard Summer’s voice pitch into a cry before CJ swooped in to intercept her. Her wail was primal, though. She and Brody had moved slowly in their relationship, but it was a relationship. And when she caught sight of Brody, lying on the ground like this, her first thought had to be that he was already dead.
That was when Mitch concluded grimly that Brody already was.
Sure, Mitch fought against it. Yes, Mitch did everything he could to reverse it. But Brody was lying there without a pulse and Mitch could hear his girlfriend crying like she was at his funeral. It was like everyone knew it but him.
But how could Mitch know it? How could Mitch ever accept it? Brody was his project. Brody was his protege. Brody was his. When he’d agreed to take Brody on, he’d taken on all his shit, too. He was responsible for that.
He closed his eyes when Jack charged the paddles again.
He was responsible.
How could Mitch ever claim to protect the bay when he couldn’t protect his own? When he couldn’t protect Brody, who lived under his own roof?
Brody’s body hit the deck of the deck of the boat with a thud, and Mitch’s knees went weak. He couldn’t bring himself to look.
This was more than a responsibility. This was a friendship, a family. Mitch had lots and lots of friends, but somewhere along the line over the last six months, Brody had become his best friend.
The defibrillator whined. Teresa called out, “Clear!”
Mitch could feel the shock, like a jolt into his own heart.
“Whoa, we got a rhythm,” Jack said, sounding so surprised that Mitch opened his eyes. Behind him, Summer choked on a sob, and he could feel Stephanie’s fingers dig a little tighter into his shoulder. Jack stared at the portable monitor, nodding as though impressed. “It’s weak but stable.”
“Oxygenation is still pretty low,” Teresa reported.
“Let’s bag him, and then scoop and run,” Jack said, starting to gather their supplies while Teresa reached for her intubation kit.
Without further commentary, the duo of paramedics got to task. Once Teresa had Brody intubated, Jack had returned with a backboard, and the two of them quickly rolled Brody onto it, strapping him down before getting to their feet.
The boat was in the shallow water, but it was still a little unsteady. As the paramedics bobbed slightly with the waves, Mitch pulled away from Stephanie, reaching forward to grab hold of the backboard while Jack and Teresa maneuvered their way out. When they were all on solid ground, Teresa led them back to the ambulance, which was waiting a short distance up the beach.
Jack climbed in first, guiding the backboard to the stretcher. Mitch held on as long as he could, offering his support for whatever it was worth. He tried not to think about how Brody still looked more dead than alive when he finally let go.
Teresa climbed out again, giving Mitch a small smile. “We’re going to Mercy,” she said. “Anybody coming along?”
If Mitch’s instincts screamed for himself, his compassion took a step back when CJ brought Summer over. Clearly distraught, Summer was the obvious choice. No one could stop a bereft girlfriend, especially not when Mitch cared about Summer as much as he did Brody. That was the routine. Mitch didn’t need to indulge his emotions here; he needed to be in control, just like he always was.
Just like he should have been today when the whole damn rescue had gone belly up.
“Summer goes,” he said, making the decision with a hoarse voice. “She’s his girlfriend.”
Teresa gave Summer a sympathetic smile, guiding her to the back of the ambulance. “Go ahead, hop up,” she coaxed. “There’s an extra seat back there.”
Summer climbed in, disappearing from view while Teresa started closing the doors. Mitch watched, as long as he could, while Jack continued squeezing the oxygen bag attached to the tube down Brody’s throat.
Then the second door closed and Teresa went to the front of the rig, starting up the engine. With the lights flashing, it started to pull away while the crowd started to disperse. When the ambulance hit the pavement, it kicked into gear, and it pulled farther away as the sirens started to sound.
By the time it had disappeared around a corner, most of the crowd was gone.
That was that, apparently.
Stephanie patted him on the shoulder again. “I’ve called for a second rig, just to give the girls a once over,” she said. “If you want to head over to the hospital--”
Mitch shook his head, trying to find his voice. “No, I mean, Summer’s there,” he said, as if that was enough. He smiled weakly. “I’ll have to get the paperwork started on this one.”
Stephanie frowned a little, clearly not sure how far she should take her next comments. “Mitch, I can start that soon,” she told him. “If you want to head over--”
But Mitch shook his head again, trying to feel resolved. He knew the routine, after all. It had just never been so hard to follow it before. “It’s my job,” he said. “I’m sure Summer will call to check in. Until then, I’ve got to do my job.”
Stephanie looked like she wanted to argue that point, but she didn’t. At any rate, Mitch wasn’t about to let her. Instead, he turned and made his way back to HQ, nodding politely at the lingering people as life went back to normal on the beach.
Normal, Mitch thought with every step he took. How he wished he could go back to normal.
But what was normal for him anymore? For as much as he’d wanted to let Baywatch changed Brody, Brody had changed Baywatch, too. Brody had changed him. Nothing in the last six months was any kind of normal that Mitch had ever known.
In his office, he could barely remember how he got there. It was as if the last six months had been a dream, some alternate reality he never intended to live. He’d offered to let Brody crash on his couch for one night, and now he had a roommate. He’d given Brody a job under duress, and now he had a protege. He’d taken the kid under his wing and now, Mitch was playing bodyguard.
When there was a knock at his door, Mitch realized he’d been staring at the same page of paperwork for nearly 30 minutes. He’d filled out the date, but the rest was blank, and his pen was still poised over the entry that asked for his own name.
Before he could remember to answer the door, it opened and Stephanie let herself in. All Mitch could do was stare at her, trying to remember how to be a functional human being again.
With a sigh, Stephanie clearly deduced that whatever conversation she intended to have was going to be up to her. “Summer called,” she said, apparently getting straight to the point. “Brody’s going to be okay?”
The way she said it, like it was so simple and so obvious, Mitch almost didn’t believe her. “He’s okay?”
Stephanie nodded, matter of fact. “Once they got his blood oxygen levels back up, he started breathing on his own again,” she said. “They pulled the tube, and he’s groggy but conscious.”
Mitch wetted his lips, anxious. “And he’s...there’s no...deficits?”
“Well, no more than he already had,” Stephanie quipped dryly. “All brain activity is normal. Even his lungs are surprisingly clear. All in all, he’s pretty damn lucky you got to him as fast you did.”
Lucky hardly seemed the word for it. Mitch shook his head, unable to stop the bitterness from tainting his voice. “I never should have left him down there in the first place.”
“It was a chaotic rescue,” Stephanie reminded him. “I talked to those girls. The scene they describe makes it sound like a miracle what you did down there.”
“What Brody did,” Mitch clarified. “He stayed under to cut those ropes.”
“Because you two worked as a team,” she said. “That’s how we work here; it’s what we do.”
“I should have seen that he was tangled, though,” Mitch said. “Before I surfaced.”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” Stephanie said. “You still had to get the victim to the surface. That was your priority. We both know that you couldn’t have left her underwater any longer, not even if you realized the danger Brody was in. You were by the book, Mitch.”
With his own sigh, Mitch slumped in his seat, tossing the pen to the desk. “I know,” he said. “And I know these things happen.”
Stephanie tilted her head. “Then what’s wrong?”
Mitch made a vague, futile gesture. “It was Brody.”
She nodded, as if she’d known this. “It is always Brody.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Mitch quickly added. “I’d be the same for any of you, you know that. The team here at Baywatch, you’re all my family.”
“But Brody’s Brody,” Stephanie said.
“I’ve just gotten so used to making sure he’s okay,” Mitch said. “Early on, he was always trying to screw up, and he doesn’t always know how to make the right decisions, and I don’t know. I feel like he’s my responsibility, even more than the rest of you. Like if I’m not looking out for him, he’s going to get lost in himself again.”
“You have to give him some credit,” Stephanie said. “And you know I don’t say this lightly because I hated his ass when he first showed up here. But he’s proven that he’s capable. He’s not some publicity stunt anymore. This job is real to him.”
“Which is why I didn’t worry about him on the job,” Mitch said. “I mean, not really. I thought I’d have to pick him up off the beach drunk, or cover for him when he was too hungover to work. I thought he’d get into fights with Summer, and I thought he’d have too many girls chasing him for selfies on the beach.”
Stephanie made a little face. “That’s not Brody, though. Not anymore.”
“I know!” Mitch said. “Because now he doesn’t even think about calling the police or animal control. Instead, he’s the last man up, willing to lay down his life for the job. Now he’s all in to the point where he’s willing to die, and I almost let him today.”
Stephanie let out a long breath. “Well,” she said, hedging just slightly. “You can’t say he didn’t learn from the best.”
Mitch looked at her in surprise. He hadn’t thought of it like that before. Sure, he’d known that Brody was something of his protege, but he hadn’t thought that he’d win the kid over so completely that he’d have to worry about Brody making the same stupid decisions he made. And worse, because Brody now used his personal recklessness with Mitch’s stubborn defiance in the right thing. The end result was a lifeguard who was doggedly determined to let no one die without any notion of self preservation.
In short, Mitch had probably created a monster.
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Stephanie added, a little hasty now. “I just meant that you being there for Brody has been good for him. And having him be better has been good for all of us.”
She said it like it was simple, and really, maybe it was. Maybe Mitch was making it hard because he didn’t quite know what to do with it. He was used to being in control, and Brody was making him lose that control in all sorts of ways he’d never anticipated. Everyone else had accepted that change, but Mitch hadn’t gotten there yet.
After today, he might have to. “He’s really okay?”
Stephanie’s smile was wider this time. “Summer says he’s asking for you.”
Mitch pushed away from his desk, getting to his feet. Looking at the unfinished paperwork, he hesitated.
From the doorway, Stephanie rolled her eyes. “Go,” she instructed him. “I’ve got this.”
Mitch crossed around, pausing at the door to clasp her arm. “Thanks, Stephanie.”
She shook her head, as if a tad exasperated. “Tell Brody we all say hi,” she said.
Mitch only answered with a wave of his hand as he made quickly for the door. He made it to the hospital quickly, but when he was standing outside, he found himself hesitating. He wasn’t the kind of guy who was scared of things, and he knew that dangers came along with the job. He knew what it was to lose people in the field, and he knew that sometimes you couldn’t save everyone -- even your best friend.
But the harder reality was this: keeping Brody together meant keeping himself together. He wasn’t sure when or how that had happened, but it was something he’d known since he first dragged Brody up from a cage at the bottom of the ocean six months ago. Leeds’ attempt to kill Brody had awakened something reckless in him as well, and he hadn’t realized just how much of himself he’d given over to the pursuit of keeping Brody in one piece.
Emotionally, mostly.
Relationally, of course.
And physically as well.
Mitch was a lifeguard, through and through. Somehow, when Brody turned up at Baywatch, he’d become a bodyguard too.
Part of him hated that, because it left him more vulnerable than he liked, more attached than he’d intended. But it was more than a job, just like everything at Baywatch.
It was a way of life.
All the good, all the bad: Mitch won’t have it any other way.
And the Time that Mattered Most.
Six months since Brody had been on the team.
Six months since they put Leeds behind bars.
Six months since Mitch first saved Brody’s life.
Six months since Mitch had realized that his life would never, ever be the same.
Six months and it was Brody’s first day back. Brody was excited.
God help him, Mitch was a little terrified. It had been less than a week ago that he’d dragged Brody’s ass up from the bottom of the ocean. A mere six days since he’d performed full CPR on Brody for five minutes before EMS had finally gotten a heartbeat back. The hospital had released him after two days with strict instructions for Mitch to observe him carefully for another three. After a day of Brody whining about missing work, Mitch had relented to let him come back against his better judgment.
He was, however, the only one with reservations. Summer had insisted on giving him a ride in, and Ronnie and CJ had organized a welcome back breakfast complete with donuts in the break room. When he had expected Stephanie to rein things in, she had merely reminded everyone that Brody liked jelly filled long johns best.
Mitch knew that everyone was excited to see Brody again, that everyone was relieved he was okay. Mitch was excited and relieved, too. But after six months of dragging Brody back from the edge of disaster, he didn’t want to start giving Brody the notion to try such antics again.
Because serious, in six months, Mitch felt like he had aged ten years.
Still, he was the first one there to greet Brody when he came in with Summer.
To be fair, the look of surprise on Brody’s face was pretty funny.
And the subsequent look of utter happiness almost made Mitch feel guilty for trying to discourage this.
“Seriously, guys? You shouldn’t have!” Brody said, giving Ronnie a hearty handshake and stopping to give CJ a hug while the rest of the staff crowded around.
Summer was grinning by his side. “We wanted to know how much we missed you,” she said.
“Which should be incentive to never cut it that close again,” Stephanie said, giving a surreptitious look to Mitch for approval.
Mitch merely pursed his lips while the rest of Baywatch heralded Brody’s return. They all knew, on some level, that Brody’s accident during the rescue last week had been a near thing. Most of them didn’t realize just how close they came to organizing a funeral instead of a welcome back party.
And no one knew that Mitch still woke up in a cold sweat most mornings, imagining himself giving Brody’s eulogy.
Making his way to the food table, Brody gave Mitch a huge grin. “Don’t tell me this was you.”
Mitch grunted. “If it were up to me, you’d still be home, recovering.”
Brody rolled his eyes. “The doctor said I was fine.”
“The doctor doesn’t realize you’re an idiot,” Mitch grumbled.
Brody, damn him, has the audacity to look vaguely concerned by this declaration. “Mitch--” he started, dropping his voice low.
This was no a conversation Mitch wanted to have. “Oh, shut up,” he said. “Eat a donut, and report to tower three.”
Brody, however, had now become emotionally adjusted enough to broach sensitive topics even when he wasn’t clearly at fault for causing them. “Seriously, Mitch,” he said. “Is everything okay?”
Huffing, Mitch grabbed a donut of his own. “Perfect,” he said shortly. “Just make sure you don’t do anything stupid out there.”
Brody chuckled a little. “I wouldn’t do anything you wouldn’t do.”
It wasn’t a joke exactly, because Brody was saying it lightly but he was serious about it, too.
Damn it. Mitch took a vicious bite of his donut and turned abruptly and made his way through the crowd before Brody could ask another question.
The donut did not settle well in Mitch’s stomach, and he felt nauseous by the time he reported for his own shift at tower one. His mood only worsened as the day went on. He was surly when people asked him questions, and when he pulled a man out of the surf, he berated him badly for being drunk and stupid, before kicking his ass off the beach unceremoniously.
People stayed away from him after that, and Mitch kept to himself in his tower more than he normally would, scanning the beach with his binoculars, as if daring anyone to be stupid on his watch again.
He made a point not to notice how much time he spent watching tower three instead of his own beach.
The fact that Brody wasn’t doing anything that required a reprimand somehow only pissed Mitch off more.
By the end of the shift, Mitch couldn’t take it anymore. He called in for backup early, a request that he was readily granted, and he trudged his way up the beach to tower three. He was determined by this point.
He just wasn’t sure what his determination was.
To make matters worse, when Brody saw him coming, he smiled.
This made Mitch scowled as he walked up the ramp.
“Hey, is your shift done already?” Brody asked keenly, glancing at his watch.
“Ronnie needed some overtime, so I let him cover for me,” Mitch lied.
“Oh,” Brody said, entirely credulous. “Well, I got to say it feels good to be back on duty.”
“Yep,” Mitch said abruptly. “It is.”
Brody seemed to notice his surly demeanor, but he seemed to choose to ignore it. Instead, he looked brightly out across the beach, ever vigilant. “I was going crazy back at home,” he said. “All that sitting around, doing nothing.”
All that sitting around, being safe. “Yeah,” Mitch said, even more short than before.
Brody hesitated this time, as if not sure if he should continue to be friendly and ignore Mitch’s behavior or if he should face the elephant in the room head on.
Unfortunately for both of them, Brody had always been a little bit of an idiot.
“Look,” Brody said. “I know you’re pissed at me, but honestly, I have no idea why.”
This was exactly true, and Mitch had been harboring his resentments all day long. In fact, that was why he’d come over to tower three, to confront Brody.
He just didn’t quite know why any more than Brody did.
“You nearly drowned last week,” he said, because it was the only explanation he could find.
Brody cocked his head, taken aback. “Well, yeah,” he said. “But I mean, that’s part of the job. That’s the risk we take. You told me that yourself one of my first days on the job.”
“No,” Mitch said icily. “I said it was a risk you had to mitigate. I was trying to tell you to be smarter, not to let stupidity be a part of your daily routine.”
“I wasn’t stupid, Mitch,” Brody shot back, rising to his defense. “That girl was going to die.”
“And what was the last thing I told you before we went under?” Mitch challenged.
Brody blinked, blank.
Mitch used that hesitation to step closer to him, his tension riding high in his shoulders as he towered over the smaller man. “Not to become another victim.”
The memory crossed over Brody’s expression, but he didn’t seem to grasp it the same way Mitch did. “So I was just supposed to let her die?”
“And that was your plan? Save her so someone else has to save you? Didn’t you learn your lesson when Summer dragged you out of the fire on your first day.”
Brody scoffed. “This is totally different. I didn’t know what I was doing then.”
Mitch was incredulous. “And you did this time? You thought that your life for hers was some kind of fair trade?”
By the look on Brody’s face, this hadn’t quite occurred to him yet. At least, no overtly. “Her life came first,” he said, as if it should have been obvious. “I’m the lifeguard. She was the victim.”
“You can’t save anyone if you’re dead, dumbass,” Mitch snapped, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “When you’re out there, just you and the sea and the victim, you have to pick yourself first. Every time. That’s not selfish; that’s the only way to make sure you can save more people.”
Brody’s face screwed up. “But it wasn’t just me and the sea and the victim,” he said. “You were there the whole time. I knew whatever happened, you’d come back for me.”
The way he said it was plain and simple, as if it were the fundamental truth of Brody’s entire existence. He just believed it; he believed Mitch.
Six months ago, this was the lesson Mitch had tried hard to impart upon him.
Now, in the present, Mitch was wondering if Brody had learned it too well.
Because he talked the talk and he walked the walk. He meant it when he said that Baywatch was family.
But Brody had embrace that idea with a ferocity that he hadn’t expected. It had become the cornerstone of his stability, and now that Mitch recognized how much the younger man was letting rest upon that so-called bedrock, Mitch had to acknowledge the pressure he felt to live up to it.
Because Mitch was strong, but he wasn’t a bedrock. He was stolid, but he wasn’t a cornerstone. He was just a guy. A guy with flaws and weaknesses and misconceptions just like everyone else.
“And what if I can’t come back for you someday?” Mitch asked, the anger breaking in his voice as he struggled to maintain his composure. “I mean, what if I can’t get there in time?”
Brody expression was quizzical, as if that thought well and truly had never occurred to him.
Of course it hadn’t.
Mitch shook his head, a rueful laugh torn from his throat. “Do you know how close you came this time?”
Brody’s expression shifted again, his confidence shaken. It had once been all bravado; this time, something more integral was shaken in him. “A little,” he admitted quietly.
Mitch drew a breath, finding the strength to go on in Brody’s subdued turn. “Well, I do know,” he said, and he felt his heart twinge. “I remember finding you tangled on the bottom of the ocean and having to cut you free while you floated unconscious in the water.”
Brody blinked rapidly, taking in that idea for the first time.
Mitch didn’t hold back now. “And I remember dragging you to the surface and having to hold your head above the water because you couldn’t do it for yourself.”
It was clear that Brody wanted to look away, but Mitch held his gaze fast, almost insistently now.
“I remember you lying on the deck of the boat without a heartbeat, and I remember the way your ribs moved beneath my hands when I gave you chest compressions,” Mitch continued, unflinching against the rise of emotion in his stomach. “I remember you turning blue when they shocked you and shoved a tube down a throat.”
This time, Brody did flinch, and he dropped his gaze self consciously.
Mitch had come too far now. He was too deep to turn back. He had no choice but to finish, for both of their sakes. “I remember you dead,” he said. “I remember you being dead and me not being able to do anything about it.”
When Brody looked up, his eyes were wet and he shook his head. “No, you saved me, Mitch,” he said. “I know you, and I know what you did for me. You saved my life.”
“No, it took two EMTs, two rounds of epi and four electrical shocks to save your life,” Mitch said. “You don’t get it.”
“No, you don’t get it,” Brody said, taking a step closer to Mitch now. “You went down after me. You pulled me up. You didn’t leave me when I screwed up. You gave me the chance.”
Now Mitch had to look away, blinking his own eyes rapidly. “You’re full of shit, Brody.”
“I mean it, Mitch,” Brody said, and he was the insistent one now. “You saved my life, man.”
“Oh, like I could forget it,” Mitch said, laughing caustically. “I mean, this wasn’t even the first time. I seem to remember a circuit breaker, a boat collision. Not to mention two times in one night when we took down Leeds.”
Brody was nodding along, as if all of this was inconsequential. “Sure, but those aren’t even the times that matter. At least, not the ones that matter most.”
Mitch had been going, full steam on this one. He’d had it all well in hand.
But Brody’s answer didn’t make any sense to him.
He shook his head, nose wrinkled in consternation. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Brody laughed, almost bemused by the notion. “Mitch, the time that mattered most was the day you offered me a job with Baywatch,” he said, as resolute and sure and earnest as Mitch had ever seen him before. “The day you let me be on this team, you gave my life a purpose. I honestly have no idea what I would have done without that. It didn’t just change my life, it saved me. You saved me in all the ways that matter most.”
Blinking, Mitch found himself dumbfounded. Like, honest to God, unable to think straight. He’d spent the last week brooding about losing Brody, and now he was faced with the unprecedented reality that Brody was more his than he’d ever been. All this time he’d spent protecting Brody, and it’d actually paid off. The more surprising thing was how that made him feel.
The anger drained out of him. In its place, he found pride. Love.
Shit, there was reciprocation. Because the day he offered Brody a job hadn’t just changed Brody’s life, it’d changed Mitch’s too. And if he’d saved Brody’s life, then it was very possible that in some ways Brody had saved his at the same time. Brody made things personal, he made things messy, he made things real.
In sum, he made things complete.
That was why it scared Mitch so much, the idea of losing him. Because he knew that losing Brody would be losing part of himself, and he didn’t know how to face that.
Not that he was going to say that, not right now. Not when he still wanted to be pissed off and he still needed Brody to realize that he needed to start watching out for himself before he went and ruined this second chance for both of them.
Instead, he closed his mouth, straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin in defiance. “Six times, then.”
Brody’s sincerity faltered into confusion. “What?”
“I’ve saved your ass six times in the last six months,” Mitch announced, as though he’d known this all along. He gave a smug nod, looking down his nose at Brody. “Let’s not make it seven.”
It was Brody’s turn to be dumbstruck. He could be slow on the uptake, but he was getting better at Mitch-speak. Better than Mitch generally gave him credit for. Slowly, he nodded. “Well,” he said, trying to look casual when he shrugged. “I’ll do what I can.”
It was just flippant enough to work as an answer. Mitch scoffed gruffly, as if unconvinced. “Somehow that’s not overly reassuring.”
“Just to remind you, I did learn from the best,” Brody said with a suggestive incline of his head.
Mitch rolled his eyes. “How many times have you saved me over the last six months?”
Brody seemed to consider that.
Mitch swatted him on the back of his head. “Stop thinking so hard, jackass,” he said. “And come on, you’re off duty.”
Brody lifted the side of his mouth in a contented half smile. “You making dinner tonight?”
“Only because you can’t cook,” Mitch groused.
“Only because you won’t let me in the kitchen,” Brody countered, as they made their way down the ramp to the beach.
“Consider it a preventative measure,” Mitch said. “I don’t think I want to know what you’d do around knives and fire.”
Keeping stride, Brody smirked. “You really do care, don’t you?”
Mitch answered by shoving Brody, a little harder than necessary as they made their way toward home.
Keeping Brody safe, it would take some work. No doubt, Brody was going to keep him busy, because he believed Brody when he said he’d try. But he also knew that the kid wouldn’t always be able to get the job done, not on his own.
That was why Mitch was here.
Brody cussed him out, falling into step again.
Mitch grinned. He would always be here.
Because when he asked the question, How many times have you saved me over the last six months? They both knew the answer.
Just once.
And once was all Mitch needed to keep repaying the favor.
Five.
Figured.
Brody couldn’t or wouldn’t give Mitch what he wanted.
Was it purposeful? Mitch knew the answer was probably no, but that didn’t make Mitch resent it any less.
Because there were good things, sure, but Brody was impossible. Brody had pissed Mitch off a lot. He’d disappointed him more time than he cared to remember. And then he’d also scared the shit out of him.
All things considered, Mitch would deal with being pissed off and disappointed. That was part of living and growing and changing. But being scared shitless?
Mitch had rather hoped to put that behind them.
But no.
Of course not.
This time at least it was entirely predictable. A dangerous rescue out in the bay. A fishing boat had gotten tangled with a double parasailing vessel, sending both flyers into the water, fully entangled in their gear. They’d gone down and not come up. Their captain had dived down to find their lines had been crossed even worse with the fishing nets. When the fishermen tried to cut the lines, the whole thing had sunk, leaving two victims under the water and all lifeguards on alert.
Mitch had been first out, of course. He and Brody took the jetski out, no debate or banter. They had good reparate, the two of them, but Brody had gotten his shit together on the job. He knew when things were serious, and he knew how to act accordingly.
In fact, Brody had made vast improvements in all areas over the last few months. He’d been at Baywatch close to a year now, and he’d been respectful, reliable and consistent. In short, he’d embraced life at Baywatch wholeheartedly.
Not that he didn’t screw up. This was Brody they were talking about. His personal life was still a mess, and Mitch was still pretty sure he was a functional alcoholic with tendencies toward depression and self-sabotage. Keeping him from self imploding was a full time job, which was why keeping him on as many shifts as possible was the best thing they could do. Brody needed to be grounded, and on the job, Brody was all business.
The bottom line was: Mitch worried about Brody a lot.
But he’d stopped worrying about Brody on the job.
That was a mistake.
Clearly.
Because when Brody said he could handle the extraction underwater, Mitch believed him. Now, Mitch wasn’t stupid. He didn’t send his lifeguards into life threatening situations without proper precautions. But Brody made it all sound so reasonable.
“I have the knife, and I can cut the lines free one at a time,” Brody said. “You’ll be down there, taking them up when I get the down.”
“You’ll need to come up for air,” Mitch reminded him.
“Maybe,” Brody said. “Depends how fast I can cut.”
“You don’t push it,” Mitch told him gruffly. “I don’t want three victims out here.”
The moment he said it, he probably should have known.
“Aw, Mitch,” Brody said, giving him a smirk. “You worried about me?”
Mitch rolled his eyes. “Just cut quickly, okay?” he muttered, diving back under the water with oxygen support for the victims.
Brody grinned at him salaciously as he dived after him. They were lucky the bay was moderately shallow here; the accident hadn’t been too far out. That had allowed them to reach the victims in time, providing supplemental oxygen from a small shared tank. Stephanie and CJ would have more on the backup rig, but the key was to get the parasailers out of the water sooner as opposed to later.
They were both scared, two girls no more than 20. Mitch offered a breath to one of the girls while Brody swam down next to them, deftly brandishing the knife as he started in on the first cord.
Mitch gave the other girl a turn, watching as Brody made quick work of the cords. He was smart about it, too. He focused on the first victim, choosing ropes that specifically ensnared her. When Mitch gave the oxygen back to the first victim, Brody had almost finished, finally yanking a few pieces free and unwrapping the girl’s tangled legs.
She realized she was free with a start, and it was all Mitch could do to catch the oxygen tank and hand it off to the other girl. She took it, looking a little wide-eyed with panic at the thought of being left behind, but Brody had moved closer to her, offering her a smile as he started in on the ropings around her.
Mitch didn’t have time to celebrate the smart move; not with the first victim still in need of fresh air rapidly. Besides, the tank wouldn’t last for long -- and Brody would be needing to surface soon anyway.
Taking the girl to the surface, she burst up gratefully ahead of him, spluttering and crying. Mitch was relieved as well, but mostly because Stephanie had arrived with the boat, and CJ was reaching out, offering a hand out to help hoist the girl to safety.
“We got one more,” Mitch said. “She’s got a short term oxygen tank, but they’ve mostly depleted it.”
“And Brody?” CJ asked, supporting the girl as she sobbed with relief.
“Working the lines,” he said. “Expect us to surface again soon, and have the oxygen ready just in case we need more time.”
“Copy that,” CJ said, and Mitch turned back to the water, taking a deep lung full of air before diving back below the surface again.
The exertion was burning in his muscles, but the adrenaline was invigorating. He used strong kicks to propel himself to the bottom, where the young woman was clearly starting to freak out in earnest despite Brody’s best efforts. She was flailing, and in her anxiety, she dropped the oxygen tank while Brody stopped cutting for a moment, trying to grab her arms to calm her down.
Mitch saw it and quickly interceded. Reaching for the girl, he took her by the shoulders, turning her to face him. He gave Brody a quick glance, ensuring that he was already back to cutting through the mess of wire and rope and plastic cording that was connected to a discarded and still weighted fishing net. Brody was cutting furious, his own face turning red as he let out a string of bubbles.
The girl was starting to hiccup, gulps of air blowing up in bubbles toward the surface, and Mitch knew they were running out of time. She’d been down there too long, and while divers were trained to deal with prolonged underwater exposure, this was a kid. She’d looked for a joyride and ended up trapped. Her resolve was crumbling, and Mitch couldn’t blame her.
All he could do was save her.
He looked at Brody, still frantically cutting. Finally, as the girl’s eyes started to close, Brody threw the last rope free, pushing the girl to see if she would float freely now.
When she did, Mitch didn’t hesitate. The girl was losing consciousness as he pushed toward the surface, faster and faster with each kick. When he broke the surface, he shoved her up, determined to give her as much access to the air as he could. CJ swung into action quickly, taking her from his arms and pulling her on deck and laying her down. Her friend was sobbing nearby, but as CJ adjusted the girl’s airway, she spluttered, coughing up a mouthful of water and starting to breathe.
“You’re okay,” CJ was saying, and she looked back, offering Mitch a smile. “You’re okay.”
It had been close, Mitch knew. But they’d done it. Him and Brody….
He stopped, turning abruptly in the water, expecting to see Brody bobbing behind him. The rescue was over. Brody should have surfaced right behind them.
His stomach plunged down, so low that it felt like it was down on the ocean floor.
I don’t want three victims out there.
His chest suddenly felt unnaturally tight, and he ignored CJ’s call to him as he dove back beneath the water, kicking harder and faster than before as he returned to the site. He could still see the nets, suspended near the bottom. And he could see the lines, messed and floating from the gnarled rigging.
And he could still see Brody, tangled in the middle of it all. But he wasn’t fighting anymore. The knife was gone from his hands, and his arms were floating in front of him, unmoving.
With one last kick, Mitch closed the rest of the distance, trying to assess what had happened. Brody had been cutting the lines, and in his haste to finish, he probably hadn’t paid attention to his own position. And with the second victim freaking out the way she had, Brody had been even more likely to be tangled in the very rescue operation he was orchestrating. Only no one had been left to cut Brody out.
Experimentally, Mitch pulled at the lines, hoping against hope that Brody had simply been too weak from oxygen deprivation to free himself. The lines were well and truly tangled, however.
And where was the damn knife?
Frantic, he scanned the seabed. The oxygen tank was nearby, but Brody was already out cold. He’d never be able to hold it in place while Mitch finished the rescue. He moved forward, pushing Brody’s hair out of his face to pinch his nose before breathing for him. Once, twice. Three times.
That had worked before, when he’d rescued Brody from the cage.
Brody didn’t wake up this time.
Mitch’s own lungs were burning now, and he was going to have to surface soon -- alone -- if he didn’t act quickly.
He pulled, using raw strength, but the ropes held fast. Desperate, he scanned the seabed again and then he saw it -- a glint of metal. He dove down, snatching up the knife and taking it in his hand as he returned to Brody’s side. With quick movements, he started cutting, slicing through strand after strand, hoping that each cut would be the last one. The ropes were stubborn, though. Or Mitch just wasn’t cutting as carefully as Brody had.
Panic was exploding behind his eyes now, and he could feel the pressure building to almost unbearable levels. He always coached his lifeguards to surface when it was necessary, no matter what the state of the victim was. He’d explained that it was the only way to save the victim, that sometimes you had to abandon them if you were ever going to get them to the surface. After all, if you passed out underwater, you didn’t do anyone any good.
You just created another victim.
Brody knew that.
Shit, Brody was a living example of that.
Rather, a not-so-living example.
Mitch knew he should surface, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave Brody. He cut faster, harder, feeling sheer desperation fuel his adrenaline even more. As his own vision started to fade out around the edges, one of the ropes gave way, and the whole knot came loose.
Brody was free.
With a last surge of energy, Mitch gathered up Brody’s limp form and kicked up to the surface. Going to the surface had never felt so long. Mitch felt his vision tunneling dangerously as he moved upward, but the stillness of Brody’s body clutched against his was the only thing he needed to keep him grounded.
Because Mitch needed to be grounded too sometimes.
When he broke the surface, the oxygen flooded his lungs and sunlight momentarily blinded him. Brody was slumped forward in his arms, head dipped toward the water as Mitch reached down, dragging his head back so his airway was exposed to the fresh air. Before he could lean over for rescue breaths, CJ was there again.
Mitch looked up, meeting her grave look.
“I’ve got him,” she said, the words sounded wooden somehow. “Let me help.”
Mitch had always handled Brody on his own this time, but he knew he was in over his head for once. Brody hadn’t bounced back, and Mitch couldn’t do it alone. Brody had slipped away from him, and it was going to be a team effort to get him back.
Numbly, Mitch helped maneuver Brody over the side of the boat, where Stephanie was waiting to help guide Brody to the ground. The girls were off to the side, covered in blankets and dripping safely dry while sirens sounded in the distance. As CJ ran through a routine check of Brody’s vitals, Stephanie reached down to offer him a hand.
Meekly, he accepted it, letting her help him on board. By the time he’d gotten his legs beneath him, CJ was already shaking her head and sitting back. “No pulse, no breathing,” she reported, trying not to notice that this was one of their own she was assessing. She glanced at Mitch. “Starting CPR.”
She scooped up the respirator, placing the mask over Brody’s mouth and nose, and Mitch was already in position on Brody’s other side, lining his hands up for chest compressions. He waited, feeling Brody’s chest rise and fall when CJ squeezed the bag for oxygen, before pressing down hard and fast for the first round of compression. He counted, muttering the numbers beneath his breath, keeping his eyes fixed on his own hands, positioned carefully over Brody’s exposed sternum.
When he was down, CJ didn’t wait to be instructed. She squeezed the bag again, forcing air twice into Brody’s lungs again.
“I’ll get us to shore,” Stephanie said, beckoning the two girls to come with her to the controls. “EMT response is already on the scene.”
Mitch didn’t acknowledge her, but he braced himself as the boat lurched back into motion. He kept his stance, making sure his arms were straight as he pressed forcibly on Brody’s chest for another rapid round of compressions to make Brody’s heart beat. He could feel the give of Brody’s chest, the movement of his bones and muscles, and he used that sensation to remind himself that as long as he kept at it, as long as he didn’t quit, Brody wasn’t dead yet.
Brody couldn’t be dead yet.
Even if the colorless features of the man beneath him suggested exactly the opposite.
He and CJ worked in perfect unison, and Mitch was so transfixed with the task at hand that he hardly notice when the boat hit the shallow water along the shoreline. He could hear a commotion -- Stephanie asking for the crowd to clear away, CJ relinquishing control over the oxygen mask -- and he vaguely recognized the EMTs who were already clamoring on board, ready to help.
“We’ve got it from here,” one of them -- Teresa, Mitch remembered -- said, giving him a professional smile. They’d been here before, all of them. A rescue gone wrong; a victim in need of more help. It was a routine they’d perfected.
Except this couldn’t be routine.
Because on routine rescues, Mitch didn’t know the victim.
On routine rescues, it wasn’t Brody’s life in the balance.
He couldn’t stop.
Teresa’s partner -- Jack, Mitch recalled -- slid in next to him as Teresa picked up the oxygen mask and started in where CJ had left off. “How long has he been down for?”
Mitch knew the answer, but his mouth wasn’t working. Nothing worked except the downward motion to keep Brody’s heart circulating blood to his brain.
Stephanie stepped in next to Teresa, her face grave. “Five minutes, maybe,” she said. “We started CPR immediately.”
Jack was unfurling some equipment, hooking up some leads to a few portable monitors. “Any heartbeat?”
“There was no pulse when we pulled him up,” Stephanie reported, stealing a nervous glance at Mitch, who felt his own throat constricting as he doggedly maintained the rate of compressions.
“Okay,” Jack said. “We need to get a baseline of his vitals--”
Teresa lifted the oxygen mask, glancing over at Mitch.
“Mitch,” Jack said, a little softer now. They knew Mitch, but they had to have recognized Brody. Brody had been a mainstay on the beach over the last few months. Brody hadn’t left Mitch’s side. Brody had become Mitch’s right hand man. Mitch flinched as Jack touched his shoulder. “Mitch.”
Mitch knew the routine, he knew it, and he couldn’t comply. Because he knew the routine didn’t always yield the best results. He knew this routine sometimes ended up with a DOA on the beach. Sometimes, the routine meant a victim didn’t come home.
Brody wasn’t routine. He’d never been routine. He was Brody.
Mitch’s arms were aching; his chest was so tight he could hardly breathe.
“Mitch,” Stephanie said, voice in his ear. “You’ve got to let them try.”
Because the routine saved people sometimes. Some victims did come home. What Mitch was doing, it wasn’t going to save Brody. Mitch had to accept, sooner or later, that Brody’s fate wasn’t his to control. He had to let Brody make his own choices, because the kid had proven he had the mettle to do the right thing.
He’d told Brody once that he was selfish.
And he had to let Brody prove him wrong.
Finally, Mitch pulled back. The instant he relinquished his position, Jack slid into his place neatly, picking up where Mitch left off as he efficiently sliced through the front of Brody’s swim shirt. With monitors attached, Teresa read out Brody’s vitals, and Jack restarted compressions while Teresa started an IV. Mitch watched, numb, as Teresa injected something into the IV before returning to the oxygen mask.
Beneath their ministration, Brody didn’t move. Stephanie stood next to him, a hand on his shoulder. She didn’t have as much invested in Brody as Mitch did, but this was one of their own. She understood.
“Okay,” Jack said, pausing. “What’s his rhythm?”
“Shockable,” Teresa reported.
“Charge it, then,” Jack said, reaching to place the paddles on Brody’s chest.
“Clear,” Teresa called, and when Brody’s body jerked, Mitch flinched.
“Still nothing,” Teresa reported.
“Up the charge,” Jack said.
This time, when Brody convulsed, Mitch thought he might be sick.
Jack said nothing this time, just grimaced. “We can give the epi a few minutes to kick in,” he said, resuming chest compressions. “We need to call it in.”
Behind him, he could hear more commotion on the water, and he heard Summer’s voice pitch into a cry before CJ swooped in to intercept her. Her wail was primal, though. She and Brody had moved slowly in their relationship, but it was a relationship. And when she caught sight of Brody, lying on the ground like this, her first thought had to be that he was already dead.
That was when Mitch concluded grimly that Brody already was.
Sure, Mitch fought against it. Yes, Mitch did everything he could to reverse it. But Brody was lying there without a pulse and Mitch could hear his girlfriend crying like she was at his funeral. It was like everyone knew it but him.
But how could Mitch know it? How could Mitch ever accept it? Brody was his project. Brody was his protege. Brody was his. When he’d agreed to take Brody on, he’d taken on all his shit, too. He was responsible for that.
He closed his eyes when Jack charged the paddles again.
He was responsible.
How could Mitch ever claim to protect the bay when he couldn’t protect his own? When he couldn’t protect Brody, who lived under his own roof?
Brody’s body hit the deck of the deck of the boat with a thud, and Mitch’s knees went weak. He couldn’t bring himself to look.
This was more than a responsibility. This was a friendship, a family. Mitch had lots and lots of friends, but somewhere along the line over the last six months, Brody had become his best friend.
The defibrillator whined. Teresa called out, “Clear!”
Mitch could feel the shock, like a jolt into his own heart.
“Whoa, we got a rhythm,” Jack said, sounding so surprised that Mitch opened his eyes. Behind him, Summer choked on a sob, and he could feel Stephanie’s fingers dig a little tighter into his shoulder. Jack stared at the portable monitor, nodding as though impressed. “It’s weak but stable.”
“Oxygenation is still pretty low,” Teresa reported.
“Let’s bag him, and then scoop and run,” Jack said, starting to gather their supplies while Teresa reached for her intubation kit.
Without further commentary, the duo of paramedics got to task. Once Teresa had Brody intubated, Jack had returned with a backboard, and the two of them quickly rolled Brody onto it, strapping him down before getting to their feet.
The boat was in the shallow water, but it was still a little unsteady. As the paramedics bobbed slightly with the waves, Mitch pulled away from Stephanie, reaching forward to grab hold of the backboard while Jack and Teresa maneuvered their way out. When they were all on solid ground, Teresa led them back to the ambulance, which was waiting a short distance up the beach.
Jack climbed in first, guiding the backboard to the stretcher. Mitch held on as long as he could, offering his support for whatever it was worth. He tried not to think about how Brody still looked more dead than alive when he finally let go.
Teresa climbed out again, giving Mitch a small smile. “We’re going to Mercy,” she said. “Anybody coming along?”
If Mitch’s instincts screamed for himself, his compassion took a step back when CJ brought Summer over. Clearly distraught, Summer was the obvious choice. No one could stop a bereft girlfriend, especially not when Mitch cared about Summer as much as he did Brody. That was the routine. Mitch didn’t need to indulge his emotions here; he needed to be in control, just like he always was.
Just like he should have been today when the whole damn rescue had gone belly up.
“Summer goes,” he said, making the decision with a hoarse voice. “She’s his girlfriend.”
Teresa gave Summer a sympathetic smile, guiding her to the back of the ambulance. “Go ahead, hop up,” she coaxed. “There’s an extra seat back there.”
Summer climbed in, disappearing from view while Teresa started closing the doors. Mitch watched, as long as he could, while Jack continued squeezing the oxygen bag attached to the tube down Brody’s throat.
Then the second door closed and Teresa went to the front of the rig, starting up the engine. With the lights flashing, it started to pull away while the crowd started to disperse. When the ambulance hit the pavement, it kicked into gear, and it pulled farther away as the sirens started to sound.
By the time it had disappeared around a corner, most of the crowd was gone.
That was that, apparently.
Stephanie patted him on the shoulder again. “I’ve called for a second rig, just to give the girls a once over,” she said. “If you want to head over to the hospital--”
Mitch shook his head, trying to find his voice. “No, I mean, Summer’s there,” he said, as if that was enough. He smiled weakly. “I’ll have to get the paperwork started on this one.”
Stephanie frowned a little, clearly not sure how far she should take her next comments. “Mitch, I can start that soon,” she told him. “If you want to head over--”
But Mitch shook his head again, trying to feel resolved. He knew the routine, after all. It had just never been so hard to follow it before. “It’s my job,” he said. “I’m sure Summer will call to check in. Until then, I’ve got to do my job.”
Stephanie looked like she wanted to argue that point, but she didn’t. At any rate, Mitch wasn’t about to let her. Instead, he turned and made his way back to HQ, nodding politely at the lingering people as life went back to normal on the beach.
Normal, Mitch thought with every step he took. How he wished he could go back to normal.
But what was normal for him anymore? For as much as he’d wanted to let Baywatch changed Brody, Brody had changed Baywatch, too. Brody had changed him. Nothing in the last six months was any kind of normal that Mitch had ever known.
In his office, he could barely remember how he got there. It was as if the last six months had been a dream, some alternate reality he never intended to live. He’d offered to let Brody crash on his couch for one night, and now he had a roommate. He’d given Brody a job under duress, and now he had a protege. He’d taken the kid under his wing and now, Mitch was playing bodyguard.
When there was a knock at his door, Mitch realized he’d been staring at the same page of paperwork for nearly 30 minutes. He’d filled out the date, but the rest was blank, and his pen was still poised over the entry that asked for his own name.
Before he could remember to answer the door, it opened and Stephanie let herself in. All Mitch could do was stare at her, trying to remember how to be a functional human being again.
With a sigh, Stephanie clearly deduced that whatever conversation she intended to have was going to be up to her. “Summer called,” she said, apparently getting straight to the point. “Brody’s going to be okay?”
The way she said it, like it was so simple and so obvious, Mitch almost didn’t believe her. “He’s okay?”
Stephanie nodded, matter of fact. “Once they got his blood oxygen levels back up, he started breathing on his own again,” she said. “They pulled the tube, and he’s groggy but conscious.”
Mitch wetted his lips, anxious. “And he’s...there’s no...deficits?”
“Well, no more than he already had,” Stephanie quipped dryly. “All brain activity is normal. Even his lungs are surprisingly clear. All in all, he’s pretty damn lucky you got to him as fast you did.”
Lucky hardly seemed the word for it. Mitch shook his head, unable to stop the bitterness from tainting his voice. “I never should have left him down there in the first place.”
“It was a chaotic rescue,” Stephanie reminded him. “I talked to those girls. The scene they describe makes it sound like a miracle what you did down there.”
“What Brody did,” Mitch clarified. “He stayed under to cut those ropes.”
“Because you two worked as a team,” she said. “That’s how we work here; it’s what we do.”
“I should have seen that he was tangled, though,” Mitch said. “Before I surfaced.”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” Stephanie said. “You still had to get the victim to the surface. That was your priority. We both know that you couldn’t have left her underwater any longer, not even if you realized the danger Brody was in. You were by the book, Mitch.”
With his own sigh, Mitch slumped in his seat, tossing the pen to the desk. “I know,” he said. “And I know these things happen.”
Stephanie tilted her head. “Then what’s wrong?”
Mitch made a vague, futile gesture. “It was Brody.”
She nodded, as if she’d known this. “It is always Brody.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Mitch quickly added. “I’d be the same for any of you, you know that. The team here at Baywatch, you’re all my family.”
“But Brody’s Brody,” Stephanie said.
“I’ve just gotten so used to making sure he’s okay,” Mitch said. “Early on, he was always trying to screw up, and he doesn’t always know how to make the right decisions, and I don’t know. I feel like he’s my responsibility, even more than the rest of you. Like if I’m not looking out for him, he’s going to get lost in himself again.”
“You have to give him some credit,” Stephanie said. “And you know I don’t say this lightly because I hated his ass when he first showed up here. But he’s proven that he’s capable. He’s not some publicity stunt anymore. This job is real to him.”
“Which is why I didn’t worry about him on the job,” Mitch said. “I mean, not really. I thought I’d have to pick him up off the beach drunk, or cover for him when he was too hungover to work. I thought he’d get into fights with Summer, and I thought he’d have too many girls chasing him for selfies on the beach.”
Stephanie made a little face. “That’s not Brody, though. Not anymore.”
“I know!” Mitch said. “Because now he doesn’t even think about calling the police or animal control. Instead, he’s the last man up, willing to lay down his life for the job. Now he’s all in to the point where he’s willing to die, and I almost let him today.”
Stephanie let out a long breath. “Well,” she said, hedging just slightly. “You can’t say he didn’t learn from the best.”
Mitch looked at her in surprise. He hadn’t thought of it like that before. Sure, he’d known that Brody was something of his protege, but he hadn’t thought that he’d win the kid over so completely that he’d have to worry about Brody making the same stupid decisions he made. And worse, because Brody now used his personal recklessness with Mitch’s stubborn defiance in the right thing. The end result was a lifeguard who was doggedly determined to let no one die without any notion of self preservation.
In short, Mitch had probably created a monster.
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Stephanie added, a little hasty now. “I just meant that you being there for Brody has been good for him. And having him be better has been good for all of us.”
She said it like it was simple, and really, maybe it was. Maybe Mitch was making it hard because he didn’t quite know what to do with it. He was used to being in control, and Brody was making him lose that control in all sorts of ways he’d never anticipated. Everyone else had accepted that change, but Mitch hadn’t gotten there yet.
After today, he might have to. “He’s really okay?”
Stephanie’s smile was wider this time. “Summer says he’s asking for you.”
Mitch pushed away from his desk, getting to his feet. Looking at the unfinished paperwork, he hesitated.
From the doorway, Stephanie rolled her eyes. “Go,” she instructed him. “I’ve got this.”
Mitch crossed around, pausing at the door to clasp her arm. “Thanks, Stephanie.”
She shook her head, as if a tad exasperated. “Tell Brody we all say hi,” she said.
Mitch only answered with a wave of his hand as he made quickly for the door. He made it to the hospital quickly, but when he was standing outside, he found himself hesitating. He wasn’t the kind of guy who was scared of things, and he knew that dangers came along with the job. He knew what it was to lose people in the field, and he knew that sometimes you couldn’t save everyone -- even your best friend.
But the harder reality was this: keeping Brody together meant keeping himself together. He wasn’t sure when or how that had happened, but it was something he’d known since he first dragged Brody up from a cage at the bottom of the ocean six months ago. Leeds’ attempt to kill Brody had awakened something reckless in him as well, and he hadn’t realized just how much of himself he’d given over to the pursuit of keeping Brody in one piece.
Emotionally, mostly.
Relationally, of course.
And physically as well.
Mitch was a lifeguard, through and through. Somehow, when Brody turned up at Baywatch, he’d become a bodyguard too.
Part of him hated that, because it left him more vulnerable than he liked, more attached than he’d intended. But it was more than a job, just like everything at Baywatch.
It was a way of life.
All the good, all the bad: Mitch won’t have it any other way.
And the Time that Mattered Most.
Six months since Brody had been on the team.
Six months since they put Leeds behind bars.
Six months since Mitch first saved Brody’s life.
Six months since Mitch had realized that his life would never, ever be the same.
Six months and it was Brody’s first day back. Brody was excited.
God help him, Mitch was a little terrified. It had been less than a week ago that he’d dragged Brody’s ass up from the bottom of the ocean. A mere six days since he’d performed full CPR on Brody for five minutes before EMS had finally gotten a heartbeat back. The hospital had released him after two days with strict instructions for Mitch to observe him carefully for another three. After a day of Brody whining about missing work, Mitch had relented to let him come back against his better judgment.
He was, however, the only one with reservations. Summer had insisted on giving him a ride in, and Ronnie and CJ had organized a welcome back breakfast complete with donuts in the break room. When he had expected Stephanie to rein things in, she had merely reminded everyone that Brody liked jelly filled long johns best.
Mitch knew that everyone was excited to see Brody again, that everyone was relieved he was okay. Mitch was excited and relieved, too. But after six months of dragging Brody back from the edge of disaster, he didn’t want to start giving Brody the notion to try such antics again.
Because serious, in six months, Mitch felt like he had aged ten years.
Still, he was the first one there to greet Brody when he came in with Summer.
To be fair, the look of surprise on Brody’s face was pretty funny.
And the subsequent look of utter happiness almost made Mitch feel guilty for trying to discourage this.
“Seriously, guys? You shouldn’t have!” Brody said, giving Ronnie a hearty handshake and stopping to give CJ a hug while the rest of the staff crowded around.
Summer was grinning by his side. “We wanted to know how much we missed you,” she said.
“Which should be incentive to never cut it that close again,” Stephanie said, giving a surreptitious look to Mitch for approval.
Mitch merely pursed his lips while the rest of Baywatch heralded Brody’s return. They all knew, on some level, that Brody’s accident during the rescue last week had been a near thing. Most of them didn’t realize just how close they came to organizing a funeral instead of a welcome back party.
And no one knew that Mitch still woke up in a cold sweat most mornings, imagining himself giving Brody’s eulogy.
Making his way to the food table, Brody gave Mitch a huge grin. “Don’t tell me this was you.”
Mitch grunted. “If it were up to me, you’d still be home, recovering.”
Brody rolled his eyes. “The doctor said I was fine.”
“The doctor doesn’t realize you’re an idiot,” Mitch grumbled.
Brody, damn him, has the audacity to look vaguely concerned by this declaration. “Mitch--” he started, dropping his voice low.
This was no a conversation Mitch wanted to have. “Oh, shut up,” he said. “Eat a donut, and report to tower three.”
Brody, however, had now become emotionally adjusted enough to broach sensitive topics even when he wasn’t clearly at fault for causing them. “Seriously, Mitch,” he said. “Is everything okay?”
Huffing, Mitch grabbed a donut of his own. “Perfect,” he said shortly. “Just make sure you don’t do anything stupid out there.”
Brody chuckled a little. “I wouldn’t do anything you wouldn’t do.”
It wasn’t a joke exactly, because Brody was saying it lightly but he was serious about it, too.
Damn it. Mitch took a vicious bite of his donut and turned abruptly and made his way through the crowd before Brody could ask another question.
The donut did not settle well in Mitch’s stomach, and he felt nauseous by the time he reported for his own shift at tower one. His mood only worsened as the day went on. He was surly when people asked him questions, and when he pulled a man out of the surf, he berated him badly for being drunk and stupid, before kicking his ass off the beach unceremoniously.
People stayed away from him after that, and Mitch kept to himself in his tower more than he normally would, scanning the beach with his binoculars, as if daring anyone to be stupid on his watch again.
He made a point not to notice how much time he spent watching tower three instead of his own beach.
The fact that Brody wasn’t doing anything that required a reprimand somehow only pissed Mitch off more.
By the end of the shift, Mitch couldn’t take it anymore. He called in for backup early, a request that he was readily granted, and he trudged his way up the beach to tower three. He was determined by this point.
He just wasn’t sure what his determination was.
To make matters worse, when Brody saw him coming, he smiled.
This made Mitch scowled as he walked up the ramp.
“Hey, is your shift done already?” Brody asked keenly, glancing at his watch.
“Ronnie needed some overtime, so I let him cover for me,” Mitch lied.
“Oh,” Brody said, entirely credulous. “Well, I got to say it feels good to be back on duty.”
“Yep,” Mitch said abruptly. “It is.”
Brody seemed to notice his surly demeanor, but he seemed to choose to ignore it. Instead, he looked brightly out across the beach, ever vigilant. “I was going crazy back at home,” he said. “All that sitting around, doing nothing.”
All that sitting around, being safe. “Yeah,” Mitch said, even more short than before.
Brody hesitated this time, as if not sure if he should continue to be friendly and ignore Mitch’s behavior or if he should face the elephant in the room head on.
Unfortunately for both of them, Brody had always been a little bit of an idiot.
“Look,” Brody said. “I know you’re pissed at me, but honestly, I have no idea why.”
This was exactly true, and Mitch had been harboring his resentments all day long. In fact, that was why he’d come over to tower three, to confront Brody.
He just didn’t quite know why any more than Brody did.
“You nearly drowned last week,” he said, because it was the only explanation he could find.
Brody cocked his head, taken aback. “Well, yeah,” he said. “But I mean, that’s part of the job. That’s the risk we take. You told me that yourself one of my first days on the job.”
“No,” Mitch said icily. “I said it was a risk you had to mitigate. I was trying to tell you to be smarter, not to let stupidity be a part of your daily routine.”
“I wasn’t stupid, Mitch,” Brody shot back, rising to his defense. “That girl was going to die.”
“And what was the last thing I told you before we went under?” Mitch challenged.
Brody blinked, blank.
Mitch used that hesitation to step closer to him, his tension riding high in his shoulders as he towered over the smaller man. “Not to become another victim.”
The memory crossed over Brody’s expression, but he didn’t seem to grasp it the same way Mitch did. “So I was just supposed to let her die?”
“And that was your plan? Save her so someone else has to save you? Didn’t you learn your lesson when Summer dragged you out of the fire on your first day.”
Brody scoffed. “This is totally different. I didn’t know what I was doing then.”
Mitch was incredulous. “And you did this time? You thought that your life for hers was some kind of fair trade?”
By the look on Brody’s face, this hadn’t quite occurred to him yet. At least, no overtly. “Her life came first,” he said, as if it should have been obvious. “I’m the lifeguard. She was the victim.”
“You can’t save anyone if you’re dead, dumbass,” Mitch snapped, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “When you’re out there, just you and the sea and the victim, you have to pick yourself first. Every time. That’s not selfish; that’s the only way to make sure you can save more people.”
Brody’s face screwed up. “But it wasn’t just me and the sea and the victim,” he said. “You were there the whole time. I knew whatever happened, you’d come back for me.”
The way he said it was plain and simple, as if it were the fundamental truth of Brody’s entire existence. He just believed it; he believed Mitch.
Six months ago, this was the lesson Mitch had tried hard to impart upon him.
Now, in the present, Mitch was wondering if Brody had learned it too well.
Because he talked the talk and he walked the walk. He meant it when he said that Baywatch was family.
But Brody had embrace that idea with a ferocity that he hadn’t expected. It had become the cornerstone of his stability, and now that Mitch recognized how much the younger man was letting rest upon that so-called bedrock, Mitch had to acknowledge the pressure he felt to live up to it.
Because Mitch was strong, but he wasn’t a bedrock. He was stolid, but he wasn’t a cornerstone. He was just a guy. A guy with flaws and weaknesses and misconceptions just like everyone else.
“And what if I can’t come back for you someday?” Mitch asked, the anger breaking in his voice as he struggled to maintain his composure. “I mean, what if I can’t get there in time?”
Brody expression was quizzical, as if that thought well and truly had never occurred to him.
Of course it hadn’t.
Mitch shook his head, a rueful laugh torn from his throat. “Do you know how close you came this time?”
Brody’s expression shifted again, his confidence shaken. It had once been all bravado; this time, something more integral was shaken in him. “A little,” he admitted quietly.
Mitch drew a breath, finding the strength to go on in Brody’s subdued turn. “Well, I do know,” he said, and he felt his heart twinge. “I remember finding you tangled on the bottom of the ocean and having to cut you free while you floated unconscious in the water.”
Brody blinked rapidly, taking in that idea for the first time.
Mitch didn’t hold back now. “And I remember dragging you to the surface and having to hold your head above the water because you couldn’t do it for yourself.”
It was clear that Brody wanted to look away, but Mitch held his gaze fast, almost insistently now.
“I remember you lying on the deck of the boat without a heartbeat, and I remember the way your ribs moved beneath my hands when I gave you chest compressions,” Mitch continued, unflinching against the rise of emotion in his stomach. “I remember you turning blue when they shocked you and shoved a tube down a throat.”
This time, Brody did flinch, and he dropped his gaze self consciously.
Mitch had come too far now. He was too deep to turn back. He had no choice but to finish, for both of their sakes. “I remember you dead,” he said. “I remember you being dead and me not being able to do anything about it.”
When Brody looked up, his eyes were wet and he shook his head. “No, you saved me, Mitch,” he said. “I know you, and I know what you did for me. You saved my life.”
“No, it took two EMTs, two rounds of epi and four electrical shocks to save your life,” Mitch said. “You don’t get it.”
“No, you don’t get it,” Brody said, taking a step closer to Mitch now. “You went down after me. You pulled me up. You didn’t leave me when I screwed up. You gave me the chance.”
Now Mitch had to look away, blinking his own eyes rapidly. “You’re full of shit, Brody.”
“I mean it, Mitch,” Brody said, and he was the insistent one now. “You saved my life, man.”
“Oh, like I could forget it,” Mitch said, laughing caustically. “I mean, this wasn’t even the first time. I seem to remember a circuit breaker, a boat collision. Not to mention two times in one night when we took down Leeds.”
Brody was nodding along, as if all of this was inconsequential. “Sure, but those aren’t even the times that matter. At least, not the ones that matter most.”
Mitch had been going, full steam on this one. He’d had it all well in hand.
But Brody’s answer didn’t make any sense to him.
He shook his head, nose wrinkled in consternation. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Brody laughed, almost bemused by the notion. “Mitch, the time that mattered most was the day you offered me a job with Baywatch,” he said, as resolute and sure and earnest as Mitch had ever seen him before. “The day you let me be on this team, you gave my life a purpose. I honestly have no idea what I would have done without that. It didn’t just change my life, it saved me. You saved me in all the ways that matter most.”
Blinking, Mitch found himself dumbfounded. Like, honest to God, unable to think straight. He’d spent the last week brooding about losing Brody, and now he was faced with the unprecedented reality that Brody was more his than he’d ever been. All this time he’d spent protecting Brody, and it’d actually paid off. The more surprising thing was how that made him feel.
The anger drained out of him. In its place, he found pride. Love.
Shit, there was reciprocation. Because the day he offered Brody a job hadn’t just changed Brody’s life, it’d changed Mitch’s too. And if he’d saved Brody’s life, then it was very possible that in some ways Brody had saved his at the same time. Brody made things personal, he made things messy, he made things real.
In sum, he made things complete.
That was why it scared Mitch so much, the idea of losing him. Because he knew that losing Brody would be losing part of himself, and he didn’t know how to face that.
Not that he was going to say that, not right now. Not when he still wanted to be pissed off and he still needed Brody to realize that he needed to start watching out for himself before he went and ruined this second chance for both of them.
Instead, he closed his mouth, straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin in defiance. “Six times, then.”
Brody’s sincerity faltered into confusion. “What?”
“I’ve saved your ass six times in the last six months,” Mitch announced, as though he’d known this all along. He gave a smug nod, looking down his nose at Brody. “Let’s not make it seven.”
It was Brody’s turn to be dumbstruck. He could be slow on the uptake, but he was getting better at Mitch-speak. Better than Mitch generally gave him credit for. Slowly, he nodded. “Well,” he said, trying to look casual when he shrugged. “I’ll do what I can.”
It was just flippant enough to work as an answer. Mitch scoffed gruffly, as if unconvinced. “Somehow that’s not overly reassuring.”
“Just to remind you, I did learn from the best,” Brody said with a suggestive incline of his head.
Mitch rolled his eyes. “How many times have you saved me over the last six months?”
Brody seemed to consider that.
Mitch swatted him on the back of his head. “Stop thinking so hard, jackass,” he said. “And come on, you’re off duty.”
Brody lifted the side of his mouth in a contented half smile. “You making dinner tonight?”
“Only because you can’t cook,” Mitch groused.
“Only because you won’t let me in the kitchen,” Brody countered, as they made their way down the ramp to the beach.
“Consider it a preventative measure,” Mitch said. “I don’t think I want to know what you’d do around knives and fire.”
Keeping stride, Brody smirked. “You really do care, don’t you?”
Mitch answered by shoving Brody, a little harder than necessary as they made their way toward home.
Keeping Brody safe, it would take some work. No doubt, Brody was going to keep him busy, because he believed Brody when he said he’d try. But he also knew that the kid wouldn’t always be able to get the job done, not on his own.
That was why Mitch was here.
Brody cussed him out, falling into step again.
Mitch grinned. He would always be here.
Because when he asked the question, How many times have you saved me over the last six months? They both knew the answer.
Just once.
And once was all Mitch needed to keep repaying the favor.