Baywatch/Animal Kingdom: Extenuating Circumstances (4/6)
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
-o-
The good news is that no one seems to have a very good plan today. Normally, Mitch doesn’t like to measure success by the progress of others, and he’s always telling Brody how it’s not cool to count other people’s failings as his gain. It’s a sign of moral failing. That’s what Mitch tells Brody.
Because usually it’s true.
Not today, however.
The fact that the two kidnappers aren’t getting what they want and that Deran’s mother seems to be put out means that everyone’s having the same shitty luck Mitch is today, even if they’re not standing on deck with their hands bound. Of course, it’s a crap shoot to know whether or not that will bode in his favor or not.
Luck is another concept Mitch generally has no time for.
He’s counting on it today, however.
“See, I’m good to my words,” the bad guy says with a perfunctory nod. “I have delivered the product as discussed.”
This is a detached way of describing the hostages, and it’s not even very accurate. Sure, there may technically be four hostages, but Adrian is hardly in good condition. In the sunlight, his bruises look even more garish. Although he is on his feet, he still seems barely conscious. If not for Deran right next to him, he probably would have fallen over by now.
That’s the play, of course. Adrian’s condition means these two yahoos mean business, which impresses the severity of the situation upon the mother. By incapacitating Adrian, Deran is otherwise preoccupied. He’s not able to be an active participant in this exchange -- at least, not an overtly active one, not it he values Adrian’s life as much as he clearly does.
It’s not a bad move.
Judging by the look on Deran’s mother’s face, however, he’s starting to think he’s not the only one who has badly underestimated this situation.
The woman actually sighs. “Oh, please,” she says. “Your emotional ploys are not going to be effective.”
The second bad guy steps toward them, gun pointed specifically at Deran. Mitch attempts to herd Brody behind him anyway.
“You sure about that?” the first guy asks.
She simply smiles. “I didn’t say they wouldn’t provoke a response,” she says. “I’m just not entirely convinced it’ll be the response you’re hoping for.”
The guy is starting to get agitated now, and with good reason. It’s pretty clear to Mitch that Deran’s mom is a psychopathic, murdering bitch who makes Leeds look like an angel. She’s going to kill people today. No doubt.
“But he’s your son,” the guy says, voice emphatic now as the second gun moves the gun so it’s closer to Deran’s head.
She nods. “Yes, and I’ve told you my offer for him.”
The guy shakes his head, ever adamant. “No, we agreed to a deal for all of them.”
“I don’t even know who two of them are,” she says with a dry chuckle. “Do you think I want to pay for random strangers?”
“The boyfriend,” the first says. “You agreed to pay for him.”
She makes a face, as if to be thoughtful even though it’s obvious she’s very much done thinking about this. “After some consideration, I just don’t think it’s a good return on the investment,” she says. “So you’ll take half of our agreed price, give me my son, and do what you will with the others.”
It’s not so much an offer as it is an ultimatum, and Mitch feels Brody start to tremble next to him. Mitch wonders if he could get the ropes off -- or, better still, swim while still bound. He wishes there were a way to make these suggestions to Brody, but he doesn’t dare disturb the back and forth when things are as precipitous as they are right now.
Instead, he presses closer to Brody and works at his bonds.
The first guy turns toward them all, raising his gun and waving it across all four for them. “All or nothing,” he says. “I will shoot them all unless you agree to our terms.”
The threat looks impressive -- enough to make Brody flinch again -- but it’s a wild, desperate gambit. The guy seems to finally be acknowledging that this is spiraling beyond his tenuous control.
Mitch pulls at his wrists harder. The plan has always been shit, but the backup plan was always shittier. Mitch needs options of his own -- for his sake and for Brody’s.
If he can save Adrian and Deran in the process, he will, but he knows what matters.
The mother shrugs, and if her indifference is feigned, it’s impossible to tell. “Eh.”
The guy looks ready to break -- but Deran beats him to it. “Mom!” he yells. “What the hell are you doing?”
She sighs, as if she’s being seriously put out now. “Oh, fine,” she mutters. “I’ll pay you an extra 10 grand. Just because I’m feeling generous today.”
The guy shakes his head. His partner nearly as the gun pressed to Deran’s forehead right now, but he hardly seems to notice. Adrian has his eyes open now, looking in horror at the muzzle as it hovers closer and closer to Deran’s head.
“No, now the price for your son has doubled,” the first says. He lifts his chin defiantly, as if begging her to call him on it. “You didn’t come all the way out here to watch me kill him.”
“Oh, you’re right about that,” she agrees. “But honestly, your negotiation skills are horrible.”
The first guy cocks his gun. He shoves Adrian aside, stepping into his place and shoving the gun against Deran’s temple. Adrian cries out, stumbling aside, and it’s all Mitch and Brody can do to catch him before he crumples to the deck.
“Take it or he’s dead,” the guy insists.
She smiles. Colder and harder than before. Because she’s more than happy to call the bluff.
In fact, she’ll blow it to hell.
Adrian is shaking violently now -- shock or fear, who can say -- and Mitch feels his wrists start to create give in the rope.
“You shoot him, and I’ll shoot you,” she says, and there’s no hint of a bluff in her voice. She tips her head, unswervingly. “And then I’ll track down every living relative you have and shoot them, too. Three generations back, just for good measure. At least, that way, no one will miss you.”
Mitch is close enough that he can see the bad guy trembling, too. The second one is starting to look anxious as he glances between his partner and Deran’s mother. The situation is dangerously close to imploding. It’s only a matter of time before the second guy bails. The question is if he’ll bail before the shooting starts or after.
Because that’s where this is headed, Mitch knows. His balls are screaming with it right now.
Gently, he steps back, taking Brody and Adrian with him. He inches another step back until they’re pressed flush against the cabin wall.
The first guy is too focused on his mark to notice. He’s not going to back down; he’s in too deep. “I know what you’ll do for your kids.”
“Mom!” Deran hisses. “Just give them the money like you said.”
“This wasn’t part of the plan,” the second guy says.
Mitch’s hands are almost free now.
“You clearly don’t,” the mother says, and she doesn’t look at Deran. Not even for a second. Not even for the sound of desperation in his voice. “Or you would know just how precarious your situation is right now.”
“One shot,” the guy says, jerking the gun against Deran’s head. “That’s all I need.”
“Mother,” Deran says through gritted teeth. “Please.”
“One shot,” the mother agrees. “To sink yourself, yes.”
Adrian lets out a cry loud enough for Deran to flinch. He hadn’t balked at any part of the negotiations, but Adrian’s weakness is the thing that threatens to break him. Deran, for all his faults, knows his priorities, too.
And Adrian, who has been silent and stoic all this time, crying out now?
It’s not fear for himself.
It’s fear for Deran.
They’ve both learned their lesson from last time, but maybe they’re right. Maybe making the right choice isn’t always easy. Maybe sometimes all your choices are bad.
He looks at Brody, and yanks at his wrists.
They deserve another chance.
Brody deserves another chance.
Shit, Mitch wants one more chance.
“Mom,” Deran says, voice pitching badly now. “Do this or I swear I will never forgive you.”
“Listen to him, lady!” the second one growls.
But she wipes her hands fastidiously on her dress. “Oh, Deran,” she says, and she sounds disappointed. “I have indulged this long enough, but it’s quite tedious now. We all need to grow up, shed these petty emotional attachments.”
“Mom!” Deran is all but pleading now while Adrian starts to keen.
“This doesn’t have to go badly,” the first guy says, and his voice is trembling with rage, with terror, it doesn’t much matter.
Mitch wishes like hell he had backup this time. He wishes he had a plan that involved more than not dying.
The woman doesn’t spare a look at the kidnapper now, as if the gun he’s holding to her son’s head is entirely inconsequential. Instead, she looks blithely at her son and Mitch gets the distinct impression that she’s not the kind of mom who makes chocolate cookies and reads a bedtime story. “I know you think you finally know what you need, darling, but I’m far better equipped to see what you actually need,” she says. “This will be hard, but you’ll get through it. I promise.”
The second guy swears. The first is shaking so bad that his aim is starting to slip. Across the way, on the other boat, the men are starting to close in while the mother smiles.
Adrian’s knees buckle, and Brody sags under his weight. Mitch feels his ways out as the ropes finally slip free.
“Damn it, Mom,” Deran says, chest heaving now. “You know nothing. I swear to you, you know nothing about me at all!”
She lifts one shoulder with a diffident little shrug. “I know this much,” she says, taking a moment to perfect her hair. Her smile is sickeningly sweet. “You know when to duck.”
Deran freezes. The second guy turns the gun forward, but it’s too late. The first is ready to keep talking; he doesn’t realize that the negotiations were over a long time ago.
Mitch knows it, though.
Just like he knows that it’s a signal.
One small tip off to let Deran know that shit’s about to get real.
Mitch can’t stop it.
All he can do is follow the lady’s advice and duck.
Hoping to hell that it’s enough as the gunfire breaks out.
-o-
It’s a split second.
That’s the thing, though. About second chances. They only take a split second. A split second can change everything. A split second can save your life.
A split second can kill you.
It’s all about how you use it.
-o-
Mitch throws himself down, going down hard on top of Adrian and shoving Brody beneath them both. Adrian cries out, and Brody grunts in pain as they hit the deck and Mitch curls himself over the top of them, using his sheer size to shield them with his body. Above him, he catches a glimpse of Deran dropping, and the suddenness of the movement throws the first man off balance. His aim slips from Deran’s temple.
He’s down before Deran is clear. The second guy is luckier. He takes a few of the other gunmen down before he launches backward in a hasty retreat. He ignores the hostages, taking refuge instead inside the cabin.
The rain of bullet continues, and Mitch tucks himself tighter around Adrian and Brody as the glass shatters above them and the wood splinters. Another volley sounds from inside the room, and Mitch wonders if it’s a worthwhile idea to get better shelter.
Another hail of gunfire sounds, but it’s less than before, and Mitch looks up in time to see several of the armed men crossing over to this boat. Clearly, the fire is cover fire until the men are in better position. Taking shelter in the cabin may have been the only move the second kidnapper had, but Mitch is pretty sure it’s not going to get him anywhere.
He glances across the deck, where the first kidnapper is sprawled, and Mitch has been a lifeguard long enough to recognize a dead body when he sees one.
All the more reason to move. If the shootout is going to happen in this cabin, then there’s no way in hell Mitch wants to be in the crossfire.
There’s more gunfire exchanged, and Mitch takes the time to ready the others. With his own hands free, he makes short work of the ropes. Adrian is free first, and he just manages to get Brody’s hands undone by the time there is a lapse in the gunfire.
“Come on,” he hissed, prodding Adrian in an attempt to get him into a crawling position.
Adrian is more than a little dazed, but his arms hold his weight. Fresh blood is dripping from his nose as he almost heaves for air. “What?”
Mitch nudges him. “We need to move, ahead, with your head down,” he orders. He reaches down, shaking Brody. “You, too.”
Brody stirs, but he doesn’t make it remotely vertical. It’s a moot point anyway as a new round of gunfire rips the air above him. It’s cut off quickly but the advancing men, and Mitch swallows a curse as he is forced to duck back down, pulling Adrian with him again with Brody pushed back down hard against the deck.
The back and forth is more rapid now, and Mitch barely manages a glance up to see the wall above him in ruins. It’s only a matter of time before this stand off is over.
He looks back down at the two men in his care. If the armed men charge now, Mitch is the only thing protecting them -- and, for once in his life, he’s not fully confident that he’ll be enough. Also, there’s the practical reality that he doesn’t actually want to die either.
A bullet whizzes too close to his head, and he’s forced to burrow lower still. He’ll die if he stays here. He’ll die if he moves. He could really use some backup right about now, but Baywatch isn’t coming. Not for him. Not for Brody.
“Hey!” a voice calls. A voice he knows. A voice he’s coming to resent just a little.
He squints up through a pause in the fire.
Deran is there, under guard of one of the armed men. He’s reaching his hand down. “Give Adrian to me,” he says, hushed and frantic.
A few more shots echo off the deck from inside the room. They’re met, almost immediately with cover fire from the opposite side of the deck.
No one’s coming for Mitch and Brody right now.
But Deran has come for Adrian.
It’s not how Mitch would prefer it, honestly. It’s sort of hard to actually feel good about being rescued by the first of your kidnappers in a day, no matter how he wants to frame it to Brody.
There’s another back and forth of gunfire, and Mitch helps Adrian up.
Because he’s not in any position to worry about his personal preferences. At least, not any preference outside of not dying.
“Here” Mitch says, supporting Adrian as he stumbles onto his hands and knees. He’s gasping for air, blinking wide, terrified eyes as Mitch guides him to Deran, trying to keep all of them low. Deran reaches out to meet him half way, and at the contact, Adrian looks up.
That’s all that’s needed.
He melts into him, and Deran enfolds him in his arms, starting toward the other boat while more cover fire echoes off the water. Mitch prods Brody to follow, but the other man is proving suddenly difficult.
Maybe it’s not exactly sudden. Brody has a thing with being difficult, because for some reason, he’s a contrary bastard who can do the absolutely right thing one moment and then act like an obstinate jerk the next. Now really isn’t the time, though.
“We got to move,” he says, trying to help Brody put his hands underneath him to keep him propped up on his hands and knees. “The cavalry's here.”
Brody mumbles something in response, but when he tries to move, he collapses back toward the deck. Mitch catches him, barely dragging him a couple of crawling paces. In front of him, Deran’s already at the edge, helping transfer Adrian across.
There’s another volley of gunfire, louder, more concentrated -- and closer.
Mitch dives down again, taking Brody with him until they both hit the deck on their backs. Brody grunts in surprise, but the rapid firing is over almost as fast as it starts.
And it doesn’t start.
In the silence, there’s a scramble that he recognizes as retreat. He cranes his neck up to see the gunmen filing back along the deck toward the other boat. One of them comes out of the cabin, holding the same gun that had been prodding their backs for an hour.
Which means their second kidnapper is dead.
Mitch takes no pleasure in death, but it’s a relief nonetheless. He reaches over, shaking Brody. “Hey, time to go,” he says.
On the ground, Brody groans, stirring but not rising. Mitch frowns, finally able to take the time he needs to assess Brody properly.
Not that it needs much assessment. It just takes one good look and Mitch can see why Brody’s been fumbling along for the last five minutes. Somewhere in the melee, Brody’s hit his head. It’s a gash along his forehead, probably from the first dive they took to the ground.
“Damn it,” Mitch says, and he goes to his knees to try to rouse Brody again. “Come on, man. We need to get out of here.”
From this position, Mitch can see that Brody isn’t being stubborn or contrary. He’s trying to respond, but he has to blink a handful of times just to focus on Mitch, and even then, he just looks confused. “Mitch?”
At least he recognizes him. Mitch forces a smile, trying not to notice that the last couple of gunmen are clearing the deck. He glances at them, trying to implore for help, but none of them look back. “Yeah,” Mitch says, skipping all the necessary first aid steps to drag Brody into a sitting position. He slings Brody’s arm around his shoulders and hefts as he gets him up. “We can talk about it later.”
Brody half whimpers, a small sound that Mitch ignores as he drags Brody’s uncooperative limbs a few paces toward the edge of the boat. He sees the last of the gunmen clear the edge, and they seem to be resuming their posts, some of them disappearing below deck. Mitch is big and strong and capable, and Brody’s tiny, but it’s still a cumbersome process. Swimming to shore with dead weight is one thing -- a thing Mitch is actually very skilled at. Carrying dead weight from one boat to the next while they’re both in the water? That’s not the kind of shit Mitch trains for.
At the edge, Mitch leans Brody against the edge. None of the gunmen are looking at him, but he sees Deran nursing Adrian on a deck chair. There are deck chairs over there. With coolers and an open bar. Like it’s some kind of damn leisure cruise.
Mitch has thoughts about this -- he has thought about all of it -- but first things first. “Hey! I need a hand!”
Brody’s head is resting against his shoulder, but none of the gunmen or other crew seem to hear him. The mother is busy discussing things with one of her men, but Deran looks up.
“He’s hit his head,” Mitch explains. “I’m going to need someone to help me get him across.”
He maneuvers Brody’s body, positioning him so he’s easier to hand across. Deran looks at Adrian, who appears to be conscious enough to nod back at him. They share a small, grim smile before Deran gets to his feet and crosses over. “You’re going to have to hand him off--”
Mitch is already making the attempt, but it’s awkward and hard. In the gap between the boat, Mitch doesn’t want to risk dropping Brody. As Deran reaches out, Brody groans again. “Mitch? What are we doing? Is shift over yet?”
“Yeah,” Mitch grunts, using his raw strength to keep Brody from slipping. “It’s over, buddy. Just need to go home.”
“A little more,” Deran coaches, arms held out.
Mitch heaves, feeling the strain in his muscles as he extends Brody as far as he can without dropping him. Deran is just about to grab hold when suddenly the boat shifts.
At first, it seems like the waves, but then Mitch realizes that the boat is running again. He hadn’t heard the engine over the pounding of his heart, but it’s easy to see that while the boat he’s on is moored, the other one is starting to pull away, tentatively to avoid a collision.
“Whoa!” Mitch says, having to drag Brody back toward him quickly before the sudden shift in gravity throws them both overboard. “What the hell?”
Deran looks back, eyebrows drawn together. “The other boat isn’t clear yet!” he calls out. No one listens to him; not even his mother. “Mom!”
The boat is starting to inch away, and Mitch isn’t quite sure if this is what panic feels like. A twisting in his gut. A throbbing in his chest. A ringing in his ears.
Deran takes a few steps toward her. “Mother, what the hell are you doing?”
She turns finally, almost in exasperation. “Darling, we are already far behind schedule today thanks to you and your...little friend,” she says acerbically. “I hardly have any more time to waste.”
“They’re right there, and they helped me,” Deran says. “I mean, we have to secure the other boat anyway, so I don’t get what the hold up is.”
Her smile is even more calm and deadly than before, even though the threat has ostensibly been neutralized. “Don’t worry about that,” she says. She makes a motion with her hand to someone in the cabin. “Time to finish up!”
Deran walks after her as the boat continues to pull away. They’re out of jumping range now; Mitch would have to swim for it. He looks at Brody, who is still slumped against him and does a quick cost benefit analysis that tells him it doesn’t much matter. He’s not getting Brody out of this without a little help.
Adrian is sitting up straighter now, arm held tight around his torso. He looks at Mitch, then looks at Deran. Deran is still trailing after his mother, shaking his head. “But the lifeguards!” he says. “We need to go back!”
She turns, and this time she’s not smiling. “We go now,” she tells him. “Because I swear to God, if this boat goes back, it will only to be to leave your boyfriend behind.”
She knows it just as much as Mitch does. She knows Deran’s trigger points. She knows his priorities. Where Mitch wants to help, however, she sees advantage. And she has no qualms using that advantage to whatever ends she might have.
Deran and Adrian, they make bad choices for the right reasons.
This lady?
She’s the type who makes bad choices for the wrong reasons.
Also, she doesn’t second guess them.
Mitch comes to this conclusion a split second before Deran does, because his stomach has turned to stone before Deran finally gives up and turns back to Mitch. His face is taut, and he looks to Adrian, as if to confirm what they all know already.
Deran won’t make that trade.
All the shit that Deran and Adrian have done for each other, there’s no way he makes the trade for two, insignificant lifeguards.
The boat is far enough away now that it starts to pick up speed. There’s no hope of catching it now.
Mitch looks back. The first kidnapper is still dead, sprawled out on the ground. The second must be in the cabin. Mitch considers this. Not the dead body, but the cabin. This is still a functional boat. There is a working engine and a working radio. Maybe Mitch doesn’t have to swim.
But why leave the boat? It belongs to the family, so would they really leave it behind? Especially in the hands of two lifeguards who would inevitably have to file a police report when they got back? With all the physical evidence on board and the fact that Mitch and Brody can make positive IDs on most of the key players involved with this fiasco?
The answer is simple, but Mitch can’t quite get his brain around it.
Why leave the boat?
Well, you don’t leave the boat.
But what do you do with it then?
From the growing distance, Deran’s voice resounds off the surface of the water. “Jump!” he screams. “You need to jump!”
At first, Mitch thinks that’s terrible advice considering how far away the boat is and how fast it’s moving.
But then, Mitch realizes something critical.
Deran doesn’t want him to jump to get aboard the other boat.
Mitch looks back toward the cabin, which had been swept and cleared on the abandoned boat.
“Jump!” Deran screams again.
Deran wants him to jump to get off the boat that has been swept and clear and not abandoned.
The answer is that you don’t leave the boat.
You get rid of it.
And any loose ends.
Mitch doesn’t need further confirmation. He hoists Brody up, crossing toward the edge in long strides. He’s climbing up on the edge when he hears the blast, and as he gets his footing to jump, Brody secure in his grasp, he sees his first glimpse of the fireball as it engulfs the cabin. The force spreads faster than Mitch can anticipate.
His first glimpse is his last.
The explosion throws him clear of the boat, and Mitch’s vision goes white as he flies through the air.
The impact with the water forces the air from his lungs, and he hears the sound echoing off the waves before everything goes dark.
-o-
It’s no good to be unconscious underwater.
That’s basically one of the core tenants of what you learn when you’re a lifeguard. You don’t want to be unconscious underwater. People who hit their head and go under -- they’re the hardest to save. They usually go down without a sound, without a fight. One second they’re there, and then they’re gone. No one knows they’re gone, sometimes. Not even the victims themselves.
So the last thing Mitch wants is to be unconscious underwater.
No one asked him, though.
Not Deran when he kidnapped Mitch. Not the kidnappers who decided to ask for a ransom. Not Deran’s mother and her freaky entourage.
It’s been a hell of a long day, Mitch has to concede. Maybe the idea of it being over isn’t all that bad.
Maybe this is okay.
Maybe being unconscious underwater’s not so bad.
But then he remembers something critical: he’s not the only one.
This isn’t about him.
Because if he’s unconscious underwater--
Then where the hell is Brody?
The thought galvanizes him, and he comes to with a start.
It takes years of training and self control not to gasp, which is a damn good thing considering that he’s surrounded by water. His lungs are screaming for air, and his head is spinning. It takes him a long moment to get his bearings and to right himself in the water. He follows the trail of debris, looking up to where it’s still falling from and kicks himself in that direction.
Within seconds, he breaks the surface. Then, and only then, does he allow himself to breathe.
Huge, gulping breaths of air. Desperate and keening. He coughs, retching on swallowed seawater, and scrapes in air through his lungs again.
He’s alive, then.
He spits water and blinks rapidly.
He’s alive.
That’s the good news.
The bad news is that Brody is nowhere to be seen.
-o-
Mitch has a split second of panic.
Honestly, most people would have more than a split second. It’s been kind of a long day, even by Mitch’s standards. The whole getting kidnapped -- twice -- being reluctantly ransomed and then promptly throw away in the crossfire -- well, it’s been a shitfest that keeps going from bad to worse.
Now Mitch is swimming amid debris from the boat and his only hope of rescue is becoming a speck on the horizon and Brody, world class swimmer that he is, is absolutely nowhere to be seen.
Brody, who is more than a world class swimmer. Brody, who is a Baywatch lifeguard. Brody, who is Mitch’s roommate and coworker. Brody, who is Mitch’s protege and best friend. Brody, who would follow him anywhere, even here.
So yeah, Mitch is going to panic.
That split second is all he gets, though.
Because normal people panic.
Lifeguards?
Well, it’s a water rescue.
They get to work.
“Brody!” he calls out as soon as he has enough air to yell. He sucks in harshly again, treading water as he turns on the spot. “Brody!”
There’s no answer back, and Mitch can’t see anything that looks like a body in the wreckage. He swims a few strokes to get another perspective, but all he can see are chunks of wood and metal. There’s a piece of an engine but Mitch can’t see Brody anywhere.
Mentally, he tells himself that this is to be expected. Prior to the explosion, Brody had probably already been concussed. The force of the blast had been enough to make Mitch black out -- Brody would have fared much worse.
That’s bad, but it’s not insurmountable. They haven’t passed the point of no return, not yet. Not if Mitch is still breathing.
He turns back around, gauging his position. He’d been holding Brody when the force of the explosion hit him. They would have been on similar trajectories. Logic dictated that Brody couldn’t be far.
“Brody!” he calls again, giving the other man one last chance to respond. When no response is forthcoming, Mitch does what he does best and dives.
The water is hazy below the surface, disturbed by the debris that still floats down in erratic patterns. They’re out deep here; there’s no way to get to the bottom. He has to hope that Brody hasn’t sunk that much or this is going to be a lost cause.
He refuses to affirm that thought any further. Instead, he starts to swim, pulling himself through the water with force as he starts up a standard search pattern. He’s good at this shit; he literally wrote the book about it at Baywatch. There’s no one better than him at finding someone under the surf. No one.
Hell, he’s even pulled Brody out from the bottom of the bay before. With nothing but a vague location from Summer and Ronnie, Mitch had correctly guessed Brody’s location and gotten him out of a locked cage like it wasn’t even hard.
This should be easy, compared to that.
Mitch has to surface to satisfy his burning lungs. He’s down on his capacity after the explosion, and he breathes hard, trying not to berate himself for his own weakness.
This should be easy, he tells himself as he dives again.
Mitch swims through debris, swims with all his strength while straining his eyes and pushing his lungs to the limit.
He breaks the surface again, and barely takes a breath before he dives again.
And again.
And again.
It should be easy. It’s supposed to be easy.
So Mitch isn’t sure why it’s so damn hard.
It’s not panic anymore; he’s beyond panic. His entire body is pulsing, and his extremities are starting to go numb. It’s not a physical injury, but it’s still shock all the same. Mitch is stranded at sea and he’s rapidly seeing the possibility of coming out of this unscathed shrink and shrink until it’s lost in the ocean waves just like him.
Just like Brody.
Because Mitch will probably survive this.
But without Brody?
Shit, Mitch can’t even.
Without Brody doesn’t even make sense to him anymore.
Without Brody isn’t a valid option.
It’s not.
Mitch dives, eyes burning as he forces himself through the wreckage. If he keeps up like this, he’ll hyperventilate. He’ll pass out. He’ll die, too. He’s not a guy who doesn’t know when to stop, but maybe he is today.
Maybe today everything changes.
Maybe today he was wrong.
All the second chances Mitch has given, he just wants this one for himself. He just wants this one here and now.
One more chance.
One.
More.
Chance.
He comes around a slab of the hull, catching sight of something in the water. The shape is different, and Mitch has to swim closer, blinking away the dots from his vision as he tries to focus. The blurry image slowly clears as he approaches, and despite the tightness in his chest, he doesn’t dare surface now.
Not when he’s finally found Brody.
Floating, suspended and unconscious, Mitch closes in on him with surprising speed. He’s exhausted and worn, but the sight of Brody has given him a second wind. He doesn’t pause to assess Brody’s condition. If his own lungs are screaming for air, then Brody’s must be…
Well, Mitch doesn’t finish the thought. He kicks to the surface instead, Brody’s back pulled tight against his chest.
They break the surface together, but Mitch takes his first breath alone.
Cursing, he tries not to be surprised. Of course Brody isn’t breathing, not for the amount of time he’d been under. He’s lost track of things a bit, so he’s not sure how long it’s been, but he refuses to entertain the notion that it’s been too long.
Carefully, Mitch floats Brody on the surface of the water, tilting his head up toward the sky. Pinching off his nose, he breathes two puffs of air into Brody’s slack mouth. He repeats the process, once and then twice, all completely by the book.
The problem is that Brody’s chest rises and then falls -- and stays still. He doesn’t inhale on his own, and when Mitch finally feels for a pulse, there’s nothing there.
Shit, Mitch knows what that means, but his brain is suddenly frozen.
There’s nothing there.
There’s no pulse.
He blinks a few times, looking up at the horizon. What’s left of the bulk is sinking, and he can see the other boat in the distance, too far away to call out for help.
He looks back at Brody, breathing for him again. It’s the only thing he can think to do as h scans the wreckage, wondering if there’s a piece large enough and stable enough for CPR. Because Brody needs CPR.
Because when he checks for a pulse again, there’s still nothing.
Mitch’s mind inches closer to the conclusion he’s avoiding.
He breathes for Brody again, for all the good it does. Brody’s still and he’s lifeless and he hasn’t got a pulse and he’s dead.
It comes to him in a rush he can’t hold back any longer.
Brody’s dead.
“Come on,” he says, as if he can cajole Brody’s heart into beating again. He gives Brody two more breaths. “Come on.”
It’s stupid, but it’s a habit. Mitch always tells Brody what to do, and Brody does it. Come on, and Brody helped him take down Leeds. Come on, and Brody joined him willingly on a kidnapping adventure. Come on, and Brody bitches and moans and always, always complies.
Mitch treads water, keeping Brody afloat. There’s no surface stable enough to support Brody, much less both of them. CPR on the open water is impossible. Rescue breathing is a stop gap until back up arrives. That’s the policy, and it works. It worked when Brody saved Adrian the first time around. But it seems like Mitch has been so busy doling out second chances that he’s run out of them for himself.
For Brody.
He shakes his head, denial clenching in his chest. He presses two more breaths into Brody’s mouth. “You have to come back,” he orders. “I need you to come back.”
Because he hates losing people.
Because Brody’s not people; Brody’s family.
Brody’s Brody.
“Don’t blow your chance,” he disparages. “This is your second chance.”
That matters to Brody; Mitch knows that. Mitch knows how seriously Brody has taken it, all of it. He knows that Brody loves Baywatch. He knows that Brody loves the team. He knows that Brody loves Summer. Hell, he knows that Brody loves him.
He loves it so much he’d do anything.
Even go on a kidnapping.
Even get caught in a shootout.
Even drown in open water miles from shore with no backup on the way.
Even die.
Mitch is shaking now, and it’s hard to breathe. When he tries to blow two more breaths into Brody’s mouth, he nearly chokes with the effort. Mitch keeps giving out second chances like they’re infinite, like they don’t have a set number that just runs out.
He’s going numb now, even though the water isn’t all that cold. The panic isn’t acute but it’s encompassing, and he is rapidly losing his ability to fight the denial as it echoes in his brain. He should have walked away this morning. He should have cut Deran off, right there and there. He should have never given Adrian an out with the police after the first incident. He could have prevented this. He could have stopped this.
Brody could still be alive and safe back on the beach right now.
Mitch has always given out second chances because he can.
But where’s his?
Where’s Brody’s?
Where’s anything?
He feels the tears as they burn in his eyes, but he can’t acknowledge them. He pinches Brody’s nose once more, summoning up whatever air he has left to inflate Brody’s chest. He’s running out of air, though. He’s running out of self control. He’s running out of ideas. He’s running out of time.
Still floating on the water, Brody’s face is colorless now. Discoloration has started to set in around his lips. Mitch clenches his teeth together, but it’s not enough to stop the cry that is wrenched from his chest.
“Shit,” he says, and he doesn’t try to stop the tears now. He swallows hard, but it doesn’t help. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
Brody doesn’t reply, and Mitch gasps for air like he’s drowning all over again.
That’s it, then.
Mitch is out of chances.
The next sob is just as hard as the last, but it breaks his resolve completely. If he’d known that giving Deran another chance would mean depriving Brody of his, then maybe he would have chosen different. Maybe he would have made a different choice. Maybe they wouldn’t be here.
He can’t think straight anymore; he can’t breathe. He drops his head down until his forehead is touching Brody’s and wishes like hell he’d gotten this right.
-o-
The thing about second chances is this: sometimes you give them.
Sometimes you get them.
It’s not that the universe is overly kind about this kind of this, but karma has its merits. Mitch doesn’t think you always get what you give, but the truth is, sometimes you do.
Because when Mitch is resigned to Brody’s fate, he hears a sound rumbling across the waves. He looks up, exhausted and drained, and he sees the boat in the distance.
Only it’s not the distance anymore.
It’s closer.
And better still, it’s getting closer.
Shit, Mitch tries to make his brain work again, the boat is coming back.
How and why -- Mitch hasn’t got a clue -- but he also doesn’t care at all. The boat is coming back, which means they’re not out of chances yet.
Adrenaline surges through Mitch, sparking like electricity in his deadened limbs. He raises a hand, starting to kick in the direction of the boat. “Hey!” he calls out, waving the hand as wide as he can. “Over here!”
Sure, maybe they’re circling back to make sure they’re dead. Maybe they’re going to plug Mitch with bullets and be thorough.
Or maybe they’ve come to rescue them.
The old lady isn’t about to give second chances, but Deran?
Adrian?
Those two know their priorities, and they know the debts they owe. Mitch is banking a lot on that right now, but for Brody’s sake, he has to. At this point, Mitch only has something to gain.
And Brody -- he’s got nothing to lose.
Hope can be a patient, tenacious and learned thing.
It can also be abject desperation.
Mitch kicks in the water, dragging Brody with him as he starts to swim out toward the approaching vessel. “Over here!” he yells again, and his heart turns with hope as the boat veers toward them. “We’re here!”
He yells until he’s hoarse, and he’s almost out of breath from it all by the time the boat starts to slow for an approach. Struggling to keep Brody above the waves, Mitch spits water and tries to keep his own equilibrium. The mother is nowhere to be seen, but he sees Deran exit the cabin, moving toward the edge of the boat. “Keep going,” he calls back to someone Mitch can’t see. “We’re almost there.”
When the boat is close enough, Deran scrambles to the side, bracing himself on the edge as he reaches down with both hands. “Hand him up,” he says. “Give him to me.”
Mitch complies because he doesn’t like taking orders, but saving lives is right up his alley. And saving Brody’s life?
Is basically the only thing that matters right now.
There’s no pride.
There’s no trust.
There’s just Brody without a heartbeat and Mitch’s utter rejection of that.
“Careful,” Mitch grunts as he hoists Brody up. Brody’s head lolls forward limply, and his arms are heavy as they fall on Mitch’s shoulders. “Careful.”
Deran hisses as he takes on Brody’s weight, adjusting his grip around Brody’s wet torso a few times before managing to haul him further out of the water. Mitch helps guide Brody’s dead weight as Deran maneuvers him over the edge of the boat.
When Brody is out of his grasp, Mitch can’t let himself feel relieve. After all, he knows Brody’s still got no pulse, and as far as he knows, he’s the only one trained in first aid for miles.
Grimacing, he reaches up, grabbing ahold of the boat and leveraging himself upright. With his upper body strength, it’s not hard to get himself over the lip, but the exertion leaves him panting as he gets his feet, dripping wet, on the other side.
Deran is arranging Brody’s prone body on the deck. He looks up at Mitch and shakes his head. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits.
Mitch moves over, ignoring the armed men who seem to be watching him suspiciously. Adrian is curled up in a deck chair, looking much worse for wear. Mitch goes to his knees on Brody’s other side, tipping the younger man’s head back to clear his airway. “That’s okay,” he says, priming himself for what came next. “Because I do.”
-o-
CPR is never easy, and it’s never something that Mitch takes lightly. It’s always something that turns his stomach in knots, that sends jolts of adrenaline through his body. It has to be. That sort of thing never gets old or redundant. You’ve got someone’s life in your hands. You are giving them, literally, their last chance.
That’s why every movement, every breath, every action needs to be perfect. Mitch wants to give people their best shot.
If Mitch stops, it’s for one of two reasons.
One, the person is back. They’ve taken that second chance and made the most of it.
Two, the person is gone. It’s up to Mitch to make the call, to decide when the chances are spent.
He’s made that call a lot in his career. He has to.
It’s a call he doesn’t know how to make this time.
Not when it’s Brody’s chance in his hands.
Logically, Mitch has to consider the possibility. He has to think about how long Brody was underwater. He has to think about the amount of time it takes for brain damage to set in. He has to weigh the medical reality of going without oxygen.
Beneath him, Brody’s still and lifeless. His skin has taken on a pallid hue, and he’s starting to get cold even though the sun is burning high in the sky. One round of CPR, two rounds, three. Brody shows no signs of response.
Four rounds and five.
Has it been five minutes?
If it’s been more…
Mitch starts a sixth round and a seventh.
He’ll give Brody all the chances, not because it’s logical, but because he has to. Because he wants Brody to give him one more chance, too.
Just one more.
For both of them.
Then, Brody jolts underneath him, body convulsing upward as he gags on water. Mitch scrambles out of the way to roll Brody on his side, supporting him while he retches, bringing up salt water that splashes to the deck. He coughs, sucking in a long, wet breath, and Mitch feels like his heart is beating anew as well.
He stays close, supporting Brody while he gasps for air, feeling his own resolve form in the pit of his stomach.
Looking up, he takes in the small crowd around him. Deran on Brody’s other side; Adrian curled up on a deck chair. Men with guns, standing the ready. The mother is back, arms crossed over her chest while she looks down at Mitch with disapproval.
If this is a second chance, then Mitch sure as hell isn’t going to waste it.
-o-
First things first: Brody. Brody’s breathing, but he did just drown. Mitch has lost track of time, and he knows that not all resuscitations are happy endings. Focus back on Brody, he waits several more seconds for Brody’s breathing to stop sounding so desperate before he helps the younger man roll back.
In this position, Brody blinks wildly, presumably trying to get his eyes for focus. It takes some work, and the terrified look is nothing short of unhinged. Mitch takes Brody’s hand, squeezing it tightly as he moves himself into Brody’s line of sight.
For a horrible moment, there’s no sign of recognition in Brody’s face. But, with another shuddering breath, Brody draws his eyebrows together. “Mitch?”
The sound of his voice is weak and small, but the impact of Mitch’s own name hits him like a ton of bricks. He knows that they’re not done with this mess yet, but there’s nothing he can do but smile. Because: priorities.
“Yeah, buddy,” he says. “You’re cutting this one a little close.”
Brody is still struggling to breathe normally, and he coughs before he musters up enough strength to continue. “Shit,” he says, coughing a little more. He sits up a little bit, accepting Mitch’s help as he continues to wheeze. “Did I just drown?”
Well, at least that rules out brain damage. Mitch pats him on the shoulder for reassurance. “Nothing we can’t handle.”
Brody squints up at him. “And I thought getting kidnapped -- twice -- would be the worst part of my day.”
“Well, it’s not over yet,” Mitch says without much consolation. He looks up to the crowd of people again. “It’s not over yet.”
It’s time, Mitch knows. It’s time to take that second chance and leverage it for all its worth. Mitch can’t be certain of success.
But he knows there’s no room for failure.
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
-o-
The good news is that no one seems to have a very good plan today. Normally, Mitch doesn’t like to measure success by the progress of others, and he’s always telling Brody how it’s not cool to count other people’s failings as his gain. It’s a sign of moral failing. That’s what Mitch tells Brody.
Because usually it’s true.
Not today, however.
The fact that the two kidnappers aren’t getting what they want and that Deran’s mother seems to be put out means that everyone’s having the same shitty luck Mitch is today, even if they’re not standing on deck with their hands bound. Of course, it’s a crap shoot to know whether or not that will bode in his favor or not.
Luck is another concept Mitch generally has no time for.
He’s counting on it today, however.
“See, I’m good to my words,” the bad guy says with a perfunctory nod. “I have delivered the product as discussed.”
This is a detached way of describing the hostages, and it’s not even very accurate. Sure, there may technically be four hostages, but Adrian is hardly in good condition. In the sunlight, his bruises look even more garish. Although he is on his feet, he still seems barely conscious. If not for Deran right next to him, he probably would have fallen over by now.
That’s the play, of course. Adrian’s condition means these two yahoos mean business, which impresses the severity of the situation upon the mother. By incapacitating Adrian, Deran is otherwise preoccupied. He’s not able to be an active participant in this exchange -- at least, not an overtly active one, not it he values Adrian’s life as much as he clearly does.
It’s not a bad move.
Judging by the look on Deran’s mother’s face, however, he’s starting to think he’s not the only one who has badly underestimated this situation.
The woman actually sighs. “Oh, please,” she says. “Your emotional ploys are not going to be effective.”
The second bad guy steps toward them, gun pointed specifically at Deran. Mitch attempts to herd Brody behind him anyway.
“You sure about that?” the first guy asks.
She simply smiles. “I didn’t say they wouldn’t provoke a response,” she says. “I’m just not entirely convinced it’ll be the response you’re hoping for.”
The guy is starting to get agitated now, and with good reason. It’s pretty clear to Mitch that Deran’s mom is a psychopathic, murdering bitch who makes Leeds look like an angel. She’s going to kill people today. No doubt.
“But he’s your son,” the guy says, voice emphatic now as the second gun moves the gun so it’s closer to Deran’s head.
She nods. “Yes, and I’ve told you my offer for him.”
The guy shakes his head, ever adamant. “No, we agreed to a deal for all of them.”
“I don’t even know who two of them are,” she says with a dry chuckle. “Do you think I want to pay for random strangers?”
“The boyfriend,” the first says. “You agreed to pay for him.”
She makes a face, as if to be thoughtful even though it’s obvious she’s very much done thinking about this. “After some consideration, I just don’t think it’s a good return on the investment,” she says. “So you’ll take half of our agreed price, give me my son, and do what you will with the others.”
It’s not so much an offer as it is an ultimatum, and Mitch feels Brody start to tremble next to him. Mitch wonders if he could get the ropes off -- or, better still, swim while still bound. He wishes there were a way to make these suggestions to Brody, but he doesn’t dare disturb the back and forth when things are as precipitous as they are right now.
Instead, he presses closer to Brody and works at his bonds.
The first guy turns toward them all, raising his gun and waving it across all four for them. “All or nothing,” he says. “I will shoot them all unless you agree to our terms.”
The threat looks impressive -- enough to make Brody flinch again -- but it’s a wild, desperate gambit. The guy seems to finally be acknowledging that this is spiraling beyond his tenuous control.
Mitch pulls at his wrists harder. The plan has always been shit, but the backup plan was always shittier. Mitch needs options of his own -- for his sake and for Brody’s.
If he can save Adrian and Deran in the process, he will, but he knows what matters.
The mother shrugs, and if her indifference is feigned, it’s impossible to tell. “Eh.”
The guy looks ready to break -- but Deran beats him to it. “Mom!” he yells. “What the hell are you doing?”
She sighs, as if she’s being seriously put out now. “Oh, fine,” she mutters. “I’ll pay you an extra 10 grand. Just because I’m feeling generous today.”
The guy shakes his head. His partner nearly as the gun pressed to Deran’s forehead right now, but he hardly seems to notice. Adrian has his eyes open now, looking in horror at the muzzle as it hovers closer and closer to Deran’s head.
“No, now the price for your son has doubled,” the first says. He lifts his chin defiantly, as if begging her to call him on it. “You didn’t come all the way out here to watch me kill him.”
“Oh, you’re right about that,” she agrees. “But honestly, your negotiation skills are horrible.”
The first guy cocks his gun. He shoves Adrian aside, stepping into his place and shoving the gun against Deran’s temple. Adrian cries out, stumbling aside, and it’s all Mitch and Brody can do to catch him before he crumples to the deck.
“Take it or he’s dead,” the guy insists.
She smiles. Colder and harder than before. Because she’s more than happy to call the bluff.
In fact, she’ll blow it to hell.
Adrian is shaking violently now -- shock or fear, who can say -- and Mitch feels his wrists start to create give in the rope.
“You shoot him, and I’ll shoot you,” she says, and there’s no hint of a bluff in her voice. She tips her head, unswervingly. “And then I’ll track down every living relative you have and shoot them, too. Three generations back, just for good measure. At least, that way, no one will miss you.”
Mitch is close enough that he can see the bad guy trembling, too. The second one is starting to look anxious as he glances between his partner and Deran’s mother. The situation is dangerously close to imploding. It’s only a matter of time before the second guy bails. The question is if he’ll bail before the shooting starts or after.
Because that’s where this is headed, Mitch knows. His balls are screaming with it right now.
Gently, he steps back, taking Brody and Adrian with him. He inches another step back until they’re pressed flush against the cabin wall.
The first guy is too focused on his mark to notice. He’s not going to back down; he’s in too deep. “I know what you’ll do for your kids.”
“Mom!” Deran hisses. “Just give them the money like you said.”
“This wasn’t part of the plan,” the second guy says.
Mitch’s hands are almost free now.
“You clearly don’t,” the mother says, and she doesn’t look at Deran. Not even for a second. Not even for the sound of desperation in his voice. “Or you would know just how precarious your situation is right now.”
“One shot,” the guy says, jerking the gun against Deran’s head. “That’s all I need.”
“Mother,” Deran says through gritted teeth. “Please.”
“One shot,” the mother agrees. “To sink yourself, yes.”
Adrian lets out a cry loud enough for Deran to flinch. He hadn’t balked at any part of the negotiations, but Adrian’s weakness is the thing that threatens to break him. Deran, for all his faults, knows his priorities, too.
And Adrian, who has been silent and stoic all this time, crying out now?
It’s not fear for himself.
It’s fear for Deran.
They’ve both learned their lesson from last time, but maybe they’re right. Maybe making the right choice isn’t always easy. Maybe sometimes all your choices are bad.
He looks at Brody, and yanks at his wrists.
They deserve another chance.
Brody deserves another chance.
Shit, Mitch wants one more chance.
“Mom,” Deran says, voice pitching badly now. “Do this or I swear I will never forgive you.”
“Listen to him, lady!” the second one growls.
But she wipes her hands fastidiously on her dress. “Oh, Deran,” she says, and she sounds disappointed. “I have indulged this long enough, but it’s quite tedious now. We all need to grow up, shed these petty emotional attachments.”
“Mom!” Deran is all but pleading now while Adrian starts to keen.
“This doesn’t have to go badly,” the first guy says, and his voice is trembling with rage, with terror, it doesn’t much matter.
Mitch wishes like hell he had backup this time. He wishes he had a plan that involved more than not dying.
The woman doesn’t spare a look at the kidnapper now, as if the gun he’s holding to her son’s head is entirely inconsequential. Instead, she looks blithely at her son and Mitch gets the distinct impression that she’s not the kind of mom who makes chocolate cookies and reads a bedtime story. “I know you think you finally know what you need, darling, but I’m far better equipped to see what you actually need,” she says. “This will be hard, but you’ll get through it. I promise.”
The second guy swears. The first is shaking so bad that his aim is starting to slip. Across the way, on the other boat, the men are starting to close in while the mother smiles.
Adrian’s knees buckle, and Brody sags under his weight. Mitch feels his ways out as the ropes finally slip free.
“Damn it, Mom,” Deran says, chest heaving now. “You know nothing. I swear to you, you know nothing about me at all!”
She lifts one shoulder with a diffident little shrug. “I know this much,” she says, taking a moment to perfect her hair. Her smile is sickeningly sweet. “You know when to duck.”
Deran freezes. The second guy turns the gun forward, but it’s too late. The first is ready to keep talking; he doesn’t realize that the negotiations were over a long time ago.
Mitch knows it, though.
Just like he knows that it’s a signal.
One small tip off to let Deran know that shit’s about to get real.
Mitch can’t stop it.
All he can do is follow the lady’s advice and duck.
Hoping to hell that it’s enough as the gunfire breaks out.
-o-
It’s a split second.
That’s the thing, though. About second chances. They only take a split second. A split second can change everything. A split second can save your life.
A split second can kill you.
It’s all about how you use it.
-o-
Mitch throws himself down, going down hard on top of Adrian and shoving Brody beneath them both. Adrian cries out, and Brody grunts in pain as they hit the deck and Mitch curls himself over the top of them, using his sheer size to shield them with his body. Above him, he catches a glimpse of Deran dropping, and the suddenness of the movement throws the first man off balance. His aim slips from Deran’s temple.
He’s down before Deran is clear. The second guy is luckier. He takes a few of the other gunmen down before he launches backward in a hasty retreat. He ignores the hostages, taking refuge instead inside the cabin.
The rain of bullet continues, and Mitch tucks himself tighter around Adrian and Brody as the glass shatters above them and the wood splinters. Another volley sounds from inside the room, and Mitch wonders if it’s a worthwhile idea to get better shelter.
Another hail of gunfire sounds, but it’s less than before, and Mitch looks up in time to see several of the armed men crossing over to this boat. Clearly, the fire is cover fire until the men are in better position. Taking shelter in the cabin may have been the only move the second kidnapper had, but Mitch is pretty sure it’s not going to get him anywhere.
He glances across the deck, where the first kidnapper is sprawled, and Mitch has been a lifeguard long enough to recognize a dead body when he sees one.
All the more reason to move. If the shootout is going to happen in this cabin, then there’s no way in hell Mitch wants to be in the crossfire.
There’s more gunfire exchanged, and Mitch takes the time to ready the others. With his own hands free, he makes short work of the ropes. Adrian is free first, and he just manages to get Brody’s hands undone by the time there is a lapse in the gunfire.
“Come on,” he hissed, prodding Adrian in an attempt to get him into a crawling position.
Adrian is more than a little dazed, but his arms hold his weight. Fresh blood is dripping from his nose as he almost heaves for air. “What?”
Mitch nudges him. “We need to move, ahead, with your head down,” he orders. He reaches down, shaking Brody. “You, too.”
Brody stirs, but he doesn’t make it remotely vertical. It’s a moot point anyway as a new round of gunfire rips the air above him. It’s cut off quickly but the advancing men, and Mitch swallows a curse as he is forced to duck back down, pulling Adrian with him again with Brody pushed back down hard against the deck.
The back and forth is more rapid now, and Mitch barely manages a glance up to see the wall above him in ruins. It’s only a matter of time before this stand off is over.
He looks back down at the two men in his care. If the armed men charge now, Mitch is the only thing protecting them -- and, for once in his life, he’s not fully confident that he’ll be enough. Also, there’s the practical reality that he doesn’t actually want to die either.
A bullet whizzes too close to his head, and he’s forced to burrow lower still. He’ll die if he stays here. He’ll die if he moves. He could really use some backup right about now, but Baywatch isn’t coming. Not for him. Not for Brody.
“Hey!” a voice calls. A voice he knows. A voice he’s coming to resent just a little.
He squints up through a pause in the fire.
Deran is there, under guard of one of the armed men. He’s reaching his hand down. “Give Adrian to me,” he says, hushed and frantic.
A few more shots echo off the deck from inside the room. They’re met, almost immediately with cover fire from the opposite side of the deck.
No one’s coming for Mitch and Brody right now.
But Deran has come for Adrian.
It’s not how Mitch would prefer it, honestly. It’s sort of hard to actually feel good about being rescued by the first of your kidnappers in a day, no matter how he wants to frame it to Brody.
There’s another back and forth of gunfire, and Mitch helps Adrian up.
Because he’s not in any position to worry about his personal preferences. At least, not any preference outside of not dying.
“Here” Mitch says, supporting Adrian as he stumbles onto his hands and knees. He’s gasping for air, blinking wide, terrified eyes as Mitch guides him to Deran, trying to keep all of them low. Deran reaches out to meet him half way, and at the contact, Adrian looks up.
That’s all that’s needed.
He melts into him, and Deran enfolds him in his arms, starting toward the other boat while more cover fire echoes off the water. Mitch prods Brody to follow, but the other man is proving suddenly difficult.
Maybe it’s not exactly sudden. Brody has a thing with being difficult, because for some reason, he’s a contrary bastard who can do the absolutely right thing one moment and then act like an obstinate jerk the next. Now really isn’t the time, though.
“We got to move,” he says, trying to help Brody put his hands underneath him to keep him propped up on his hands and knees. “The cavalry's here.”
Brody mumbles something in response, but when he tries to move, he collapses back toward the deck. Mitch catches him, barely dragging him a couple of crawling paces. In front of him, Deran’s already at the edge, helping transfer Adrian across.
There’s another volley of gunfire, louder, more concentrated -- and closer.
Mitch dives down again, taking Brody with him until they both hit the deck on their backs. Brody grunts in surprise, but the rapid firing is over almost as fast as it starts.
And it doesn’t start.
In the silence, there’s a scramble that he recognizes as retreat. He cranes his neck up to see the gunmen filing back along the deck toward the other boat. One of them comes out of the cabin, holding the same gun that had been prodding their backs for an hour.
Which means their second kidnapper is dead.
Mitch takes no pleasure in death, but it’s a relief nonetheless. He reaches over, shaking Brody. “Hey, time to go,” he says.
On the ground, Brody groans, stirring but not rising. Mitch frowns, finally able to take the time he needs to assess Brody properly.
Not that it needs much assessment. It just takes one good look and Mitch can see why Brody’s been fumbling along for the last five minutes. Somewhere in the melee, Brody’s hit his head. It’s a gash along his forehead, probably from the first dive they took to the ground.
“Damn it,” Mitch says, and he goes to his knees to try to rouse Brody again. “Come on, man. We need to get out of here.”
From this position, Mitch can see that Brody isn’t being stubborn or contrary. He’s trying to respond, but he has to blink a handful of times just to focus on Mitch, and even then, he just looks confused. “Mitch?”
At least he recognizes him. Mitch forces a smile, trying not to notice that the last couple of gunmen are clearing the deck. He glances at them, trying to implore for help, but none of them look back. “Yeah,” Mitch says, skipping all the necessary first aid steps to drag Brody into a sitting position. He slings Brody’s arm around his shoulders and hefts as he gets him up. “We can talk about it later.”
Brody half whimpers, a small sound that Mitch ignores as he drags Brody’s uncooperative limbs a few paces toward the edge of the boat. He sees the last of the gunmen clear the edge, and they seem to be resuming their posts, some of them disappearing below deck. Mitch is big and strong and capable, and Brody’s tiny, but it’s still a cumbersome process. Swimming to shore with dead weight is one thing -- a thing Mitch is actually very skilled at. Carrying dead weight from one boat to the next while they’re both in the water? That’s not the kind of shit Mitch trains for.
At the edge, Mitch leans Brody against the edge. None of the gunmen are looking at him, but he sees Deran nursing Adrian on a deck chair. There are deck chairs over there. With coolers and an open bar. Like it’s some kind of damn leisure cruise.
Mitch has thoughts about this -- he has thought about all of it -- but first things first. “Hey! I need a hand!”
Brody’s head is resting against his shoulder, but none of the gunmen or other crew seem to hear him. The mother is busy discussing things with one of her men, but Deran looks up.
“He’s hit his head,” Mitch explains. “I’m going to need someone to help me get him across.”
He maneuvers Brody’s body, positioning him so he’s easier to hand across. Deran looks at Adrian, who appears to be conscious enough to nod back at him. They share a small, grim smile before Deran gets to his feet and crosses over. “You’re going to have to hand him off--”
Mitch is already making the attempt, but it’s awkward and hard. In the gap between the boat, Mitch doesn’t want to risk dropping Brody. As Deran reaches out, Brody groans again. “Mitch? What are we doing? Is shift over yet?”
“Yeah,” Mitch grunts, using his raw strength to keep Brody from slipping. “It’s over, buddy. Just need to go home.”
“A little more,” Deran coaches, arms held out.
Mitch heaves, feeling the strain in his muscles as he extends Brody as far as he can without dropping him. Deran is just about to grab hold when suddenly the boat shifts.
At first, it seems like the waves, but then Mitch realizes that the boat is running again. He hadn’t heard the engine over the pounding of his heart, but it’s easy to see that while the boat he’s on is moored, the other one is starting to pull away, tentatively to avoid a collision.
“Whoa!” Mitch says, having to drag Brody back toward him quickly before the sudden shift in gravity throws them both overboard. “What the hell?”
Deran looks back, eyebrows drawn together. “The other boat isn’t clear yet!” he calls out. No one listens to him; not even his mother. “Mom!”
The boat is starting to inch away, and Mitch isn’t quite sure if this is what panic feels like. A twisting in his gut. A throbbing in his chest. A ringing in his ears.
Deran takes a few steps toward her. “Mother, what the hell are you doing?”
She turns finally, almost in exasperation. “Darling, we are already far behind schedule today thanks to you and your...little friend,” she says acerbically. “I hardly have any more time to waste.”
“They’re right there, and they helped me,” Deran says. “I mean, we have to secure the other boat anyway, so I don’t get what the hold up is.”
Her smile is even more calm and deadly than before, even though the threat has ostensibly been neutralized. “Don’t worry about that,” she says. She makes a motion with her hand to someone in the cabin. “Time to finish up!”
Deran walks after her as the boat continues to pull away. They’re out of jumping range now; Mitch would have to swim for it. He looks at Brody, who is still slumped against him and does a quick cost benefit analysis that tells him it doesn’t much matter. He’s not getting Brody out of this without a little help.
Adrian is sitting up straighter now, arm held tight around his torso. He looks at Mitch, then looks at Deran. Deran is still trailing after his mother, shaking his head. “But the lifeguards!” he says. “We need to go back!”
She turns, and this time she’s not smiling. “We go now,” she tells him. “Because I swear to God, if this boat goes back, it will only to be to leave your boyfriend behind.”
She knows it just as much as Mitch does. She knows Deran’s trigger points. She knows his priorities. Where Mitch wants to help, however, she sees advantage. And she has no qualms using that advantage to whatever ends she might have.
Deran and Adrian, they make bad choices for the right reasons.
This lady?
She’s the type who makes bad choices for the wrong reasons.
Also, she doesn’t second guess them.
Mitch comes to this conclusion a split second before Deran does, because his stomach has turned to stone before Deran finally gives up and turns back to Mitch. His face is taut, and he looks to Adrian, as if to confirm what they all know already.
Deran won’t make that trade.
All the shit that Deran and Adrian have done for each other, there’s no way he makes the trade for two, insignificant lifeguards.
The boat is far enough away now that it starts to pick up speed. There’s no hope of catching it now.
Mitch looks back. The first kidnapper is still dead, sprawled out on the ground. The second must be in the cabin. Mitch considers this. Not the dead body, but the cabin. This is still a functional boat. There is a working engine and a working radio. Maybe Mitch doesn’t have to swim.
But why leave the boat? It belongs to the family, so would they really leave it behind? Especially in the hands of two lifeguards who would inevitably have to file a police report when they got back? With all the physical evidence on board and the fact that Mitch and Brody can make positive IDs on most of the key players involved with this fiasco?
The answer is simple, but Mitch can’t quite get his brain around it.
Why leave the boat?
Well, you don’t leave the boat.
But what do you do with it then?
From the growing distance, Deran’s voice resounds off the surface of the water. “Jump!” he screams. “You need to jump!”
At first, Mitch thinks that’s terrible advice considering how far away the boat is and how fast it’s moving.
But then, Mitch realizes something critical.
Deran doesn’t want him to jump to get aboard the other boat.
Mitch looks back toward the cabin, which had been swept and cleared on the abandoned boat.
“Jump!” Deran screams again.
Deran wants him to jump to get off the boat that has been swept and clear and not abandoned.
The answer is that you don’t leave the boat.
You get rid of it.
And any loose ends.
Mitch doesn’t need further confirmation. He hoists Brody up, crossing toward the edge in long strides. He’s climbing up on the edge when he hears the blast, and as he gets his footing to jump, Brody secure in his grasp, he sees his first glimpse of the fireball as it engulfs the cabin. The force spreads faster than Mitch can anticipate.
His first glimpse is his last.
The explosion throws him clear of the boat, and Mitch’s vision goes white as he flies through the air.
The impact with the water forces the air from his lungs, and he hears the sound echoing off the waves before everything goes dark.
-o-
It’s no good to be unconscious underwater.
That’s basically one of the core tenants of what you learn when you’re a lifeguard. You don’t want to be unconscious underwater. People who hit their head and go under -- they’re the hardest to save. They usually go down without a sound, without a fight. One second they’re there, and then they’re gone. No one knows they’re gone, sometimes. Not even the victims themselves.
So the last thing Mitch wants is to be unconscious underwater.
No one asked him, though.
Not Deran when he kidnapped Mitch. Not the kidnappers who decided to ask for a ransom. Not Deran’s mother and her freaky entourage.
It’s been a hell of a long day, Mitch has to concede. Maybe the idea of it being over isn’t all that bad.
Maybe this is okay.
Maybe being unconscious underwater’s not so bad.
But then he remembers something critical: he’s not the only one.
This isn’t about him.
Because if he’s unconscious underwater--
Then where the hell is Brody?
The thought galvanizes him, and he comes to with a start.
It takes years of training and self control not to gasp, which is a damn good thing considering that he’s surrounded by water. His lungs are screaming for air, and his head is spinning. It takes him a long moment to get his bearings and to right himself in the water. He follows the trail of debris, looking up to where it’s still falling from and kicks himself in that direction.
Within seconds, he breaks the surface. Then, and only then, does he allow himself to breathe.
Huge, gulping breaths of air. Desperate and keening. He coughs, retching on swallowed seawater, and scrapes in air through his lungs again.
He’s alive, then.
He spits water and blinks rapidly.
He’s alive.
That’s the good news.
The bad news is that Brody is nowhere to be seen.
-o-
Mitch has a split second of panic.
Honestly, most people would have more than a split second. It’s been kind of a long day, even by Mitch’s standards. The whole getting kidnapped -- twice -- being reluctantly ransomed and then promptly throw away in the crossfire -- well, it’s been a shitfest that keeps going from bad to worse.
Now Mitch is swimming amid debris from the boat and his only hope of rescue is becoming a speck on the horizon and Brody, world class swimmer that he is, is absolutely nowhere to be seen.
Brody, who is more than a world class swimmer. Brody, who is a Baywatch lifeguard. Brody, who is Mitch’s roommate and coworker. Brody, who is Mitch’s protege and best friend. Brody, who would follow him anywhere, even here.
So yeah, Mitch is going to panic.
That split second is all he gets, though.
Because normal people panic.
Lifeguards?
Well, it’s a water rescue.
They get to work.
“Brody!” he calls out as soon as he has enough air to yell. He sucks in harshly again, treading water as he turns on the spot. “Brody!”
There’s no answer back, and Mitch can’t see anything that looks like a body in the wreckage. He swims a few strokes to get another perspective, but all he can see are chunks of wood and metal. There’s a piece of an engine but Mitch can’t see Brody anywhere.
Mentally, he tells himself that this is to be expected. Prior to the explosion, Brody had probably already been concussed. The force of the blast had been enough to make Mitch black out -- Brody would have fared much worse.
That’s bad, but it’s not insurmountable. They haven’t passed the point of no return, not yet. Not if Mitch is still breathing.
He turns back around, gauging his position. He’d been holding Brody when the force of the explosion hit him. They would have been on similar trajectories. Logic dictated that Brody couldn’t be far.
“Brody!” he calls again, giving the other man one last chance to respond. When no response is forthcoming, Mitch does what he does best and dives.
The water is hazy below the surface, disturbed by the debris that still floats down in erratic patterns. They’re out deep here; there’s no way to get to the bottom. He has to hope that Brody hasn’t sunk that much or this is going to be a lost cause.
He refuses to affirm that thought any further. Instead, he starts to swim, pulling himself through the water with force as he starts up a standard search pattern. He’s good at this shit; he literally wrote the book about it at Baywatch. There’s no one better than him at finding someone under the surf. No one.
Hell, he’s even pulled Brody out from the bottom of the bay before. With nothing but a vague location from Summer and Ronnie, Mitch had correctly guessed Brody’s location and gotten him out of a locked cage like it wasn’t even hard.
This should be easy, compared to that.
Mitch has to surface to satisfy his burning lungs. He’s down on his capacity after the explosion, and he breathes hard, trying not to berate himself for his own weakness.
This should be easy, he tells himself as he dives again.
Mitch swims through debris, swims with all his strength while straining his eyes and pushing his lungs to the limit.
He breaks the surface again, and barely takes a breath before he dives again.
And again.
And again.
It should be easy. It’s supposed to be easy.
So Mitch isn’t sure why it’s so damn hard.
It’s not panic anymore; he’s beyond panic. His entire body is pulsing, and his extremities are starting to go numb. It’s not a physical injury, but it’s still shock all the same. Mitch is stranded at sea and he’s rapidly seeing the possibility of coming out of this unscathed shrink and shrink until it’s lost in the ocean waves just like him.
Just like Brody.
Because Mitch will probably survive this.
But without Brody?
Shit, Mitch can’t even.
Without Brody doesn’t even make sense to him anymore.
Without Brody isn’t a valid option.
It’s not.
Mitch dives, eyes burning as he forces himself through the wreckage. If he keeps up like this, he’ll hyperventilate. He’ll pass out. He’ll die, too. He’s not a guy who doesn’t know when to stop, but maybe he is today.
Maybe today everything changes.
Maybe today he was wrong.
All the second chances Mitch has given, he just wants this one for himself. He just wants this one here and now.
One more chance.
One.
More.
Chance.
He comes around a slab of the hull, catching sight of something in the water. The shape is different, and Mitch has to swim closer, blinking away the dots from his vision as he tries to focus. The blurry image slowly clears as he approaches, and despite the tightness in his chest, he doesn’t dare surface now.
Not when he’s finally found Brody.
Floating, suspended and unconscious, Mitch closes in on him with surprising speed. He’s exhausted and worn, but the sight of Brody has given him a second wind. He doesn’t pause to assess Brody’s condition. If his own lungs are screaming for air, then Brody’s must be…
Well, Mitch doesn’t finish the thought. He kicks to the surface instead, Brody’s back pulled tight against his chest.
They break the surface together, but Mitch takes his first breath alone.
Cursing, he tries not to be surprised. Of course Brody isn’t breathing, not for the amount of time he’d been under. He’s lost track of things a bit, so he’s not sure how long it’s been, but he refuses to entertain the notion that it’s been too long.
Carefully, Mitch floats Brody on the surface of the water, tilting his head up toward the sky. Pinching off his nose, he breathes two puffs of air into Brody’s slack mouth. He repeats the process, once and then twice, all completely by the book.
The problem is that Brody’s chest rises and then falls -- and stays still. He doesn’t inhale on his own, and when Mitch finally feels for a pulse, there’s nothing there.
Shit, Mitch knows what that means, but his brain is suddenly frozen.
There’s nothing there.
There’s no pulse.
He blinks a few times, looking up at the horizon. What’s left of the bulk is sinking, and he can see the other boat in the distance, too far away to call out for help.
He looks back at Brody, breathing for him again. It’s the only thing he can think to do as h scans the wreckage, wondering if there’s a piece large enough and stable enough for CPR. Because Brody needs CPR.
Because when he checks for a pulse again, there’s still nothing.
Mitch’s mind inches closer to the conclusion he’s avoiding.
He breathes for Brody again, for all the good it does. Brody’s still and he’s lifeless and he hasn’t got a pulse and he’s dead.
It comes to him in a rush he can’t hold back any longer.
Brody’s dead.
“Come on,” he says, as if he can cajole Brody’s heart into beating again. He gives Brody two more breaths. “Come on.”
It’s stupid, but it’s a habit. Mitch always tells Brody what to do, and Brody does it. Come on, and Brody helped him take down Leeds. Come on, and Brody joined him willingly on a kidnapping adventure. Come on, and Brody bitches and moans and always, always complies.
Mitch treads water, keeping Brody afloat. There’s no surface stable enough to support Brody, much less both of them. CPR on the open water is impossible. Rescue breathing is a stop gap until back up arrives. That’s the policy, and it works. It worked when Brody saved Adrian the first time around. But it seems like Mitch has been so busy doling out second chances that he’s run out of them for himself.
For Brody.
He shakes his head, denial clenching in his chest. He presses two more breaths into Brody’s mouth. “You have to come back,” he orders. “I need you to come back.”
Because he hates losing people.
Because Brody’s not people; Brody’s family.
Brody’s Brody.
“Don’t blow your chance,” he disparages. “This is your second chance.”
That matters to Brody; Mitch knows that. Mitch knows how seriously Brody has taken it, all of it. He knows that Brody loves Baywatch. He knows that Brody loves the team. He knows that Brody loves Summer. Hell, he knows that Brody loves him.
He loves it so much he’d do anything.
Even go on a kidnapping.
Even get caught in a shootout.
Even drown in open water miles from shore with no backup on the way.
Even die.
Mitch is shaking now, and it’s hard to breathe. When he tries to blow two more breaths into Brody’s mouth, he nearly chokes with the effort. Mitch keeps giving out second chances like they’re infinite, like they don’t have a set number that just runs out.
He’s going numb now, even though the water isn’t all that cold. The panic isn’t acute but it’s encompassing, and he is rapidly losing his ability to fight the denial as it echoes in his brain. He should have walked away this morning. He should have cut Deran off, right there and there. He should have never given Adrian an out with the police after the first incident. He could have prevented this. He could have stopped this.
Brody could still be alive and safe back on the beach right now.
Mitch has always given out second chances because he can.
But where’s his?
Where’s Brody’s?
Where’s anything?
He feels the tears as they burn in his eyes, but he can’t acknowledge them. He pinches Brody’s nose once more, summoning up whatever air he has left to inflate Brody’s chest. He’s running out of air, though. He’s running out of self control. He’s running out of ideas. He’s running out of time.
Still floating on the water, Brody’s face is colorless now. Discoloration has started to set in around his lips. Mitch clenches his teeth together, but it’s not enough to stop the cry that is wrenched from his chest.
“Shit,” he says, and he doesn’t try to stop the tears now. He swallows hard, but it doesn’t help. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
Brody doesn’t reply, and Mitch gasps for air like he’s drowning all over again.
That’s it, then.
Mitch is out of chances.
The next sob is just as hard as the last, but it breaks his resolve completely. If he’d known that giving Deran another chance would mean depriving Brody of his, then maybe he would have chosen different. Maybe he would have made a different choice. Maybe they wouldn’t be here.
He can’t think straight anymore; he can’t breathe. He drops his head down until his forehead is touching Brody’s and wishes like hell he’d gotten this right.
-o-
The thing about second chances is this: sometimes you give them.
Sometimes you get them.
It’s not that the universe is overly kind about this kind of this, but karma has its merits. Mitch doesn’t think you always get what you give, but the truth is, sometimes you do.
Because when Mitch is resigned to Brody’s fate, he hears a sound rumbling across the waves. He looks up, exhausted and drained, and he sees the boat in the distance.
Only it’s not the distance anymore.
It’s closer.
And better still, it’s getting closer.
Shit, Mitch tries to make his brain work again, the boat is coming back.
How and why -- Mitch hasn’t got a clue -- but he also doesn’t care at all. The boat is coming back, which means they’re not out of chances yet.
Adrenaline surges through Mitch, sparking like electricity in his deadened limbs. He raises a hand, starting to kick in the direction of the boat. “Hey!” he calls out, waving the hand as wide as he can. “Over here!”
Sure, maybe they’re circling back to make sure they’re dead. Maybe they’re going to plug Mitch with bullets and be thorough.
Or maybe they’ve come to rescue them.
The old lady isn’t about to give second chances, but Deran?
Adrian?
Those two know their priorities, and they know the debts they owe. Mitch is banking a lot on that right now, but for Brody’s sake, he has to. At this point, Mitch only has something to gain.
And Brody -- he’s got nothing to lose.
Hope can be a patient, tenacious and learned thing.
It can also be abject desperation.
Mitch kicks in the water, dragging Brody with him as he starts to swim out toward the approaching vessel. “Over here!” he yells again, and his heart turns with hope as the boat veers toward them. “We’re here!”
He yells until he’s hoarse, and he’s almost out of breath from it all by the time the boat starts to slow for an approach. Struggling to keep Brody above the waves, Mitch spits water and tries to keep his own equilibrium. The mother is nowhere to be seen, but he sees Deran exit the cabin, moving toward the edge of the boat. “Keep going,” he calls back to someone Mitch can’t see. “We’re almost there.”
When the boat is close enough, Deran scrambles to the side, bracing himself on the edge as he reaches down with both hands. “Hand him up,” he says. “Give him to me.”
Mitch complies because he doesn’t like taking orders, but saving lives is right up his alley. And saving Brody’s life?
Is basically the only thing that matters right now.
There’s no pride.
There’s no trust.
There’s just Brody without a heartbeat and Mitch’s utter rejection of that.
“Careful,” Mitch grunts as he hoists Brody up. Brody’s head lolls forward limply, and his arms are heavy as they fall on Mitch’s shoulders. “Careful.”
Deran hisses as he takes on Brody’s weight, adjusting his grip around Brody’s wet torso a few times before managing to haul him further out of the water. Mitch helps guide Brody’s dead weight as Deran maneuvers him over the edge of the boat.
When Brody is out of his grasp, Mitch can’t let himself feel relieve. After all, he knows Brody’s still got no pulse, and as far as he knows, he’s the only one trained in first aid for miles.
Grimacing, he reaches up, grabbing ahold of the boat and leveraging himself upright. With his upper body strength, it’s not hard to get himself over the lip, but the exertion leaves him panting as he gets his feet, dripping wet, on the other side.
Deran is arranging Brody’s prone body on the deck. He looks up at Mitch and shakes his head. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits.
Mitch moves over, ignoring the armed men who seem to be watching him suspiciously. Adrian is curled up in a deck chair, looking much worse for wear. Mitch goes to his knees on Brody’s other side, tipping the younger man’s head back to clear his airway. “That’s okay,” he says, priming himself for what came next. “Because I do.”
-o-
CPR is never easy, and it’s never something that Mitch takes lightly. It’s always something that turns his stomach in knots, that sends jolts of adrenaline through his body. It has to be. That sort of thing never gets old or redundant. You’ve got someone’s life in your hands. You are giving them, literally, their last chance.
That’s why every movement, every breath, every action needs to be perfect. Mitch wants to give people their best shot.
If Mitch stops, it’s for one of two reasons.
One, the person is back. They’ve taken that second chance and made the most of it.
Two, the person is gone. It’s up to Mitch to make the call, to decide when the chances are spent.
He’s made that call a lot in his career. He has to.
It’s a call he doesn’t know how to make this time.
Not when it’s Brody’s chance in his hands.
Logically, Mitch has to consider the possibility. He has to think about how long Brody was underwater. He has to think about the amount of time it takes for brain damage to set in. He has to weigh the medical reality of going without oxygen.
Beneath him, Brody’s still and lifeless. His skin has taken on a pallid hue, and he’s starting to get cold even though the sun is burning high in the sky. One round of CPR, two rounds, three. Brody shows no signs of response.
Four rounds and five.
Has it been five minutes?
If it’s been more…
Mitch starts a sixth round and a seventh.
He’ll give Brody all the chances, not because it’s logical, but because he has to. Because he wants Brody to give him one more chance, too.
Just one more.
For both of them.
Then, Brody jolts underneath him, body convulsing upward as he gags on water. Mitch scrambles out of the way to roll Brody on his side, supporting him while he retches, bringing up salt water that splashes to the deck. He coughs, sucking in a long, wet breath, and Mitch feels like his heart is beating anew as well.
He stays close, supporting Brody while he gasps for air, feeling his own resolve form in the pit of his stomach.
Looking up, he takes in the small crowd around him. Deran on Brody’s other side; Adrian curled up on a deck chair. Men with guns, standing the ready. The mother is back, arms crossed over her chest while she looks down at Mitch with disapproval.
If this is a second chance, then Mitch sure as hell isn’t going to waste it.
-o-
First things first: Brody. Brody’s breathing, but he did just drown. Mitch has lost track of time, and he knows that not all resuscitations are happy endings. Focus back on Brody, he waits several more seconds for Brody’s breathing to stop sounding so desperate before he helps the younger man roll back.
In this position, Brody blinks wildly, presumably trying to get his eyes for focus. It takes some work, and the terrified look is nothing short of unhinged. Mitch takes Brody’s hand, squeezing it tightly as he moves himself into Brody’s line of sight.
For a horrible moment, there’s no sign of recognition in Brody’s face. But, with another shuddering breath, Brody draws his eyebrows together. “Mitch?”
The sound of his voice is weak and small, but the impact of Mitch’s own name hits him like a ton of bricks. He knows that they’re not done with this mess yet, but there’s nothing he can do but smile. Because: priorities.
“Yeah, buddy,” he says. “You’re cutting this one a little close.”
Brody is still struggling to breathe normally, and he coughs before he musters up enough strength to continue. “Shit,” he says, coughing a little more. He sits up a little bit, accepting Mitch’s help as he continues to wheeze. “Did I just drown?”
Well, at least that rules out brain damage. Mitch pats him on the shoulder for reassurance. “Nothing we can’t handle.”
Brody squints up at him. “And I thought getting kidnapped -- twice -- would be the worst part of my day.”
“Well, it’s not over yet,” Mitch says without much consolation. He looks up to the crowd of people again. “It’s not over yet.”
It’s time, Mitch knows. It’s time to take that second chance and leverage it for all its worth. Mitch can’t be certain of success.
But he knows there’s no room for failure.