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It was late February, wind whipped down the street outside Firehouse 51 hard enough to rattle the bay doors, carrying flecks of snow across the asphalt.
Matt sat alone in his quarters with a stack of incident reports spread across the desk beside him. His second mug of coffee had already gone lukewarm. He could hear Cruz laughing, followed immediately by Otis protesting loudly enough that it probably meant Pouch had ignored another command.
Squad 3 was out on a call, and in the common room, Herrmann and Mouch had commandeered the television. Mills was in the kitchen trying to get ahead on the Sunday roast while Shay and Dawson stripped off winter gear after returning from an EMS call, both flushed from the cold.
The calm didn’t last for long.
“Ambulance 61, Truck 81. MVC, Lakeside embankment,” the overhead speaker announced as the tones dropped.
The firehouse snapped instantly into motion.
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By the time Truck 81 and Ambulance 61 reached the scene, icy wind was blowing hard enough off the lake to sting exposed skin.
Matt stepped down from the rig and immediately took in the scene.
A truck hung nose-down over the concrete embankment at nearly a vertical angle, suspended only by the trailer still attached to its rear hitch. Twenty feet away, a sedan rested on its side against the guardrail, one shattered headlight throwing weak light across the road. Someone inside the car was screaming for help.
“Cruz, Otis, Mouch, stabilise that truck,” Matt ordered as he moved toward the edge of the embankment. “Herrmann, Mills, check the sedan.”
“Copy!” several voices answered at once.
Matt dropped to one knee near the concrete edge and looked down. Inside the cab of the suspended truck sat an adult an a child, both motionless. The windshield was fractured into a spiderweb of white cracks, the front end hanging over black water below. The trailer creaked sharply.
He grabbed his radio. “Main, this is Truck 81. We need a second ambo, and a Squad team for a technical rescue.”
“Copy, Truck 81.”
Behind him, Cruz and Otis worked quickly to anchor the truck to 81 while Mouch secured additional cribbing beneath the trailer wheels.
“Truck’s stabilised as best we can, Lieutenant,” Cruz called, though the uncertainty in his voice carried over the wind.
Matt could hear the strain in the metal. The entire vehicle groaned intermittently, protesting every shift in weight.
“Main, what’s Squad’s ETA?” he asked into the radio.
“Squad 3 is approximately eight minutes out.”
Matt looked back at the truck hanging over the lake, another metallic groan echoed from below them.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.
Boden’s SUV pulled up moments later, he stepped out, taking in the scene with one sharp glance.
“Talk to me.”
“We’ve got two unconscious in the truck, one conscious being extracted out the sedan,” Matt said quickly, already pulling rope bags from the compartment. “Truck’s unstable, we don’t have time to wait for Squad.”
Boden followed his line of sight toward the embankment. The rear trailer wheels shifted half an inch with a sharp scrape against the ice.
“Proceed carefully,” Boden said firmly.
Matt nodded once, already clipping into a harness as Cruz brought over the rope system.
Cold wind tore across the lake while the truck creaked again above the dark water below.
Dawson and Shay were crouched beside the driver from the overturned sedan a short distance from the embankment, their medical bags open on the frozen ground beside them. The man sat wrapped in a blanket from the ambulance, blood dried in a thin line down the side of his temple while Shay shone a penlight into his pupils.
“You blacked out at all?” Dawson asked.
“No,” the man snapped immediately, shivering hard enough for his teeth to chatter. “I told you, I’m fine.”
“You rolled a car,” Shay replied evenly.
Behind them, Herrmann and Mills emerged from the sedan after completing a final sweep for additional occupants. The vehicle’s roof had partially collapsed inward from the impact, glass glittering across the ground.
“Car’s clear!” Herrmann shouted.
Matt barely looked up from the embankment. “Copy. Get over here.”
The focus of the entire scene had shifted to the truck hanging over the lake. The trailer suspension groaned again, turning every head toward the water.
They had stabilised the vehicle with rescue struts and heavy straps to Truck 81, though none of it looked reassuring with the truck hanging nearly vertical over black ice-rimmed water.
Herrmann and Otis moved carefully toward the rear of the suspended truck carrying halligan bars.
“We’re making entry through the rear,” Herrmann said.
Matt nodded once, clipping himself into the rope system.
The rear windshield shattered inward beneath two sharp strikes of the halligan. Tempered safety glass burst across the inside of the truck in glittering fragments before Otis cleared the remaining edges away with gloved hands.
“Entry’s good!” Otis called.
Matt moved to the edge of the embankment and looked down into the truck again. From this angle the vehicle felt less stable than before, every gust of wind setting it into a subtle sway.
“You’re good,” Cruz said, gripping the lowering line.
Matt gave a short nod and stepped backward over the concrete edge.
The rope system took his weight immediately, lowering him slowly toward the shattered rear window. Ice-cold wind whipped off the water beneath him while bits of broken glass crunched under his boots as he eased himself through the opening.
The child was nearest to him, suspended awkwardly by the seatbelt in what had once been the back seat. Blood soaked into her winter hat from a laceration along her scalp, dark against blonde hair.
“Truck 81 to Ambo 61, first patient is a paediatric female, unconscious but breathing,” Matt called into his radio as he worked.
He kept one hand braced against the roof of the cab while securing the rescue harness around the girl, conscious of every groan the truck made beneath him.
“Easy,” he murmured to himself.
Once the harness was attached, the team above began lifting carefully.
The child disappeared slowly upward through the shattered rear window while Matt remained crouched inside the truck, one shoulder pressed against twisted metal as he watched her clear the opening safely.
“Victim’s out,” Cruz’s voice crackled through the radio moments later.
Matt exhaled once before looking down toward the front of the cab.
The second victim was trapped lower, partially pinned between the crushed dashboard and steering column. Blood covered the side window beside him.
Matt adjusted his footing carefully. “I need more slack.”
“Copy, lowering.”
The rope loosened incrementally as he moved deeper into the cab as the truck groaned loudly beneath him. Every movement transferred through the chassis. Matt froze instantly, gripping the edge of a seat frame while the entire vehicle shifted with a long metallic creak.
Outside, nobody moved.
The sound seemed to drag on forever before finally settling back into silence broken only by wind and the distant wash of lake water below.
Matt swallowed once and continued downward. He stretched toward the trapped driver, fingertips barely short of reaching him.
Then the line went taut. Matt frowned and tugged once experimentally.
“I need more slack!” he shouted upward.
No additional rope came.
Above him, Herrmann and Mouch were already searching frantically along the edge of the embankment where the rope disappeared over twisted metal and the damaged trailer frame.
“Line’s caught!” Matt called, pulling the rope side to side in an attempt to free it.
What he could not see from inside the cab was the section of rope sawing back and forth against a jagged shard of torn steel near the trailer hitch assembly. Fibres were already beginning to split beneath the strain, pale strands fraying apart one by one.
Boden stood several yards back, eyes moving constantly between the rope system, the truck, and the rear bumper anchoring the vehicle to Truck 81.
The rear bumper of the suspended truck bent downward with a sharp metallic pop.
Boden’s expression changed instantly. “Casey!” he shouted. “Out! Get out now!”
The truck lurched several inches lower toward the lake.
At the same moment, Matt’s rope suddenly snapped free. The line parted violently with a sharp crack and collapsed into the cab beside him.
Matt dropped forward without warning, slamming hard across the crushed dashboard. Pain burst through his side as the impact rocked the truck violently enough to send another groan screaming through the metal frame.
For one terrible second, he thought the entire vehicle was already falling, but it held.
The truck hung there creaking above the black water while Matt lay half-sprawled across the front cab beside the unconscious driver, staring upward toward the shattered rear window.
“I need another—”
Then the bumper finally gave way.
Metal screamed as the anchor point tore free from Truck 81 and the suspended vehicle dropped.
The truck plunged nose-first into the lake.
The impact hit Matt hard. Freezing water exploded through the cab as the vehicle sank beneath the surface almost instantly. The cold was beyond cold; it was violent, his entire body had been dropped into fire made of ice.
His chest seized.
He tried to hold his breath but the shock ripped the air from him instead. Lake water flooded into his mouth and throat as he gasped reflexively.
Pain tore through his lungs.
Everything vanished into black water and chaos, disorientation swallowing him whole. He could not tell up from down. The only thing his body understood was cold, crushing, unbearable cold.
His arms stopped responding properly within seconds, then everything simply began to fade.
═════════════════
The truck vanished beneath the lake in an explosion of black water and spray.
For less than half a second nobody moved, then the embankment erupted into noise.
“Get me a ladder down there!”
“Throw lines!”
Cruz dropped flat at the edge of the concrete slope, staring into the dark water where air still surged violently to the surface. Otis and Herrmann were already dragging portable ladders toward the shoreline while Mouch fought to secure another rope system despite knowing there was nothing left to attach it to.
“Casey!” Cruz shouted uselessly into the water.
The cold alone made immediate entry nearly impossible without proper gear. The lake in February could incapacitate someone in minutes, sometimes seconds, and the truck had gone down fast.
Boden grabbed his radio immediately. “Main, upgrade this to a dive rescue. I need Squad 3 here now.”
“Copy, Chief.”
Herrmann and Otis reached the bottom of the embankment ladder first, close enough now to see the last of the bubbles breaking the lake surface.
“It’s completely under,” Otis said, breathing hard.
The water churned once more.
Then went still.
The silence that followed lasted only seconds before the scream of approaching sirens cut through the wind.
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Kelly and Capp were already pulling on dry suits in the rear of the rig before the vehicle had fully stopped moving.
The call from Boden had come over the radio clipped and urgent enough that nobody inside the squad had needed further explanation. Firefighter trapped. The atmosphere inside the cab had changed instantly after that.
Now Squad 3 screeched to a halt beside the apparatus lining the lakeside road, red and blue lights washing across the black water below the embankment.
Kelly jumped down from the rig while Capp hauled dive equipment after him.
The scene was chaos.
Truck 81’s crew crowded the edge of the embankment. Cruz looked pale beneath his helmet. Otis still had part of the severed rope clenched in one gloved hand.
Kelly’s eyes snapped immediately to the lake.
The vehicle was gone. Only disturbed water remained, bubbles still rising steadily to the surface where the vehicle had vanished.
“What’ve we got?” Kelly demanded, already dragging the scuba harness over his shoulders.
“One civilian victim and Casey inside the cab of a truck,” Boden answered grimly, pointing toward the spreading disturbance on the water. “Vehicle went under less than two minutes ago.”
Kelly looked out at the lake again. In water this cold, consciousness could disappear frighteningly fast. Cold shock alone could incapacitate someone within seconds, especially if they inhaled water on entry.
His jaw tightened as he focused on the rescue. But for half a second the image forced itself into his head anyway: Matt trapped upside down inside a submerged cab, disoriented in freezing black water.
Kelly shoved the thought down hard.
“Capp, with me,” he barked.
Both of them moved quickly, regulators checked, air confirmed and safety lines clipped in.
“Primary search on the cab,” Kelly ordered sharply while pulling on his gloves. “Vehicle’s probably still nose-down.”
“Copy.”
The lake looked almost black beneath the emergency lights.
Kelly descended the portable ladder first, one gloved hand gripping the rail while icy water surged against his boots. Even through the thermal protection, the cold cut through.
Then he disappeared beneath the surface.
The world underwater became darkness and debris. Visibility was almost non-existent, silt and sediment still churned violently from the truck’s impact with the lakebed, reducing everything to shadows caught briefly in the beams of their dive lights.
Kelly followed the safety line downward until the truck materialised out of the murk.
It rested at a steep angle against the lake floor, front end crushed further from the impact. One headlight still glowed dimly beneath the water.
Kelly reached the shattered rear window first.
The cab was already mostly flooded. His dive light swept across the interior. There was no movement.
Then he saw Matt. He was pinned awkwardly against the collapsed dashboard near the front of the cab, completely motionless.
Kelly forced himself forward through the rear opening, fighting both the angle of the vehicle and the debris floating inside. His gloves found turnout gear instantly.
Matt’s face was terrifyingly pale beneath the water.
Kelly checked quickly for entanglement before hauling him free from the twisted interior. Dead weight underwater still fought against every movement, especially in confined space.
Matt didn’t respond at all.
Kelly’s pulse hammered painfully once against his ribs before training forced him back into focus.
Behind him, Capp continued searching the front passenger side of the cab where the civilian remained trapped lower beneath the collapsed steering column.
Kelly pulled Matt through the rear window and began the ascent immediately, one arm locked firmly around him while bubbles roared upward through the dark water around them.
The climb back to the surface felt endless, then suddenly cold air hit his mask as they broke through the lake.
“Coming up!” someone shouted from above.
Kelly tore off his regulator the second they broke the surface while everyone rushed down the embankment toward them.
Matt hung motionless against him.
“Easy! Easy!” Herrmann shouted as they grabbed hold of Matt’s turnout gear and helped drag him onto the ladder platform.
Water streamed from Matt’s coat, helmet, and hair in steady rivulets back into the lake below. His head lolled unnaturally against Kelly’s shoulder as they hauled him upward.
Kelly climbed after them, lungs burning from exertion and adrenaline by the time he reached the top of the embankment.
“Get him flat!” Boden ordered.
They lowered Matt carefully onto the freezing concrete.
Kelly dropped beside him immediately, yanking off his mask and tank straps with shaking hands. Behind him the lake surface broke again as Capp emerged towing the civilian victim upward through the black water.
Even before Capp reached the ladder, Kelly saw the exhausted shake of his head. The victim was gone.
“He’s got a pulse!” Herrmann shouted suddenly, fingers pressed against the side of Matt’s neck. “Weak, but it’s there!”
Kelly leaned over Matt instantly. “He’s breathing?”
Herrmann looked up. “No.”
For one terrible second Matt looked almost dead already. His skin had gone frighteningly pale beneath the sweep of emergency lights, lips greyish blue from hypoxia and cold exposure. Water still trickled from the corners of his mouth onto the concrete beneath him.
Kelly ripped open the front of Matt’s turnout coat and jacket with numb fingers, exposing soaked thermal layers underneath. The fabric was freezing against his gloves.
“Come on,” Kelly muttered under his breath.
He tilted Matt’s head back carefully to open the airway. Lake water mixed with frothy vomit spilled weakly from Matt’s mouth and Kelly swept it clear quickly with gloved fingers before pinching his nose shut and sealing his mouth over Matt’s.
He delivered the first rescue breath. Matt’s chest lifted under the forced breath, then immediately fell still again.
Kelly gave a second breath, watching carefully for chest rise.
Again the air inflated Matt’s lungs successfully, but nothing followed. Matt remained limp beneath his hands.
“Come on, Matt,” he said, louder this time.
He checked quickly for a pulse himself. It was slow and thready but still there.
Around him the embankment churned with movement. Cruz had dropped beside Matt’s legs and started yanking loose the soaked turnout gear while Mouch sprinted back toward the apparatus for oxygen equipment.
Boden was already on the radio coordinating with the incoming ambulance, his voice clipped. “Adult male, post-submersion, unconscious, pulse weak, hypothermic.”
Kelly barely heard any of it. He had resumed rescue breathing, counting automatically between breaths while freezing lake water continued dripping from Matt’s hair onto the ground.
Matt still wasn’t breathing on his own. Each rise of his chest came only from Kelly forcing air into his lungs.
The moment the breath ended, his body fell motionless again. The pulse beneath Kelly’s fingertips weakened further, and then slipped away entirely.
“Damn it!”
Kelly repositioned instantly and started chest compressions hard and fast against Matt’s sternum.
“One, two, three…”
Herrmann moved in beside him at once, taking over cervical stabilisation while Cruz shoved folded blankets beneath Matt’s shoulders to keep him off the frozen concrete.
“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.”
He sealed over Matt’s mouth again and delivered two more breaths before immediately returning to compressions, arms locking with practiced rhythm despite the panic clawing through him.
Two more breaths, then back to compressions.
The first rib cracked beneath his hands with a sickening snap, Kelly flinched internally but never slowed, Matt needed circulation more than intact ribs.
He kept going.
Effective compressions broke ribs sometimes. He knew that, everybody there knew that. It still made his stomach turn.
The scream of approaching sirens finally reached the shoreline as Kelly completed another cycle.
Kelly barely looked up from where he knelt over Matt on the concrete.
“Come on, Matt,” he said hoarsely, starting another round of compressions. “One, two, three…”
Water and frothy fluid spilled from the corner of Matt’s mouth with each compression.
“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.”
“Move, move!” one of the incoming paramedics shouted as the ambulance crew sprinted down the embankment carrying their gear.
Kelly sealed over Matt’s mouth again and delivered two rescue breaths. On the second breath Matt’s body jerked suddenly beneath him, a violent cough tore through his chest followed by a wet choking gasp.
“There we go,” one of the paramedics said, dropping to his knees beside them.
Kelly immediately rolled Matt partly onto his side as lake water, saliva, and frothy vomit spilled onto the concrete.
Matt dragged in another ragged breath, but it was shallow and irregular, more reflexive than controlled.
“Agonal respirations,” the paramedic said sharply.
A bag-valve mask was fitted over Matt’s face within seconds while the second medic cut away the remaining soaked gear with trauma shears. Steam rose faintly from the drenched fabric in the freezing air.
“He’s severely hypothermic,” the paramedic muttered, fingers briefly checking Matt’s pulse while monitor leads were attached across his chest. “Pulse weak and thready.”
The cardiac monitor flickered into life beside them, tracing a slow, irregular rhythm. A pulse oximeter clipped onto Matt’s finger struggled for several seconds before finally displaying a dangerously low oxygen saturation.
Matt’s eyes fluttered halfway open briefly, glassy and unfocused beneath wet lashes. He showed no sign he understood where he was before they drifted shut again.
“He’s not protecting his airway,” one of the paramedics said. “Let’s get him into the ambo and tube him.”
Kelly finally shifted back enough to let them work, chest heaving from exertion and adrenaline. Only then did he realise his hands were shaking almost as badly as Matt’s body had started to.
The paramedics worked quickly around him.
Herrmann and Cruz moved in automatically to help as blankets were layered over Matt and straps secured around the backboard beneath him. Warmed oxygen hissed through the bag-valve mask with each assisted breath while they lifted him carefully onto the stretcher.
Matt began shivering more noticeably during the movement, small tremors at first before stronger waves started wracking through him hard enough to shake the stretcher rails.
“That’s actually a good sign,” the medic told them while tightening the transport straps across Matt’s chest. “Means his body’s trying to generate heat again.”
Kelly nodded once without speaking.
His eyes never left Matt.
The stretcher wheels rattled harshly across the frozen pavement as they rushed him toward the waiting ambulance. Beneath the bright ambulance lights Matt looked frighteningly pale, wet hair pushed back from his forehead while the shivering continued visibly beneath the blankets covering him.
One of the paramedics climbed into the back beside him, maintaining the seal on the bag-valve mask.
The rear doors slammed shut, then the ambulance pulled away.
Kelly stood motionless watching the flashing lights disappear. Only after the sirens had faded into the distance did the adrenaline finally begin draining out of him.
The cold hit almost immediately after that.
His dry suit clung damply around his arms and waist where lake water had seeped through during the recovery. Without the urgency keeping him moving, the February air suddenly felt brutal against his skin.
Herrmann appeared in front of him seemingly out of nowhere while Boden stepped up beside him from the other side.
“Let us get that gear off before you freeze too,” Boden said.
Kelly nodded absently and reached automatically for the dry suit seals and harness clips himself, but his hands were shaking badly now, fingers stiff from cold and exhaustion.
Herrmann noticed immediately and pushed his hands gently aside without comment.
Between them, Herrmann and Boden loosened the shoulder harness and helped peel the upper half of the dry suit down from Kelly’s arms. The heavy material resisted before finally coming free.
The sudden shift in weight and balance made Kelly sway slightly on his feet.
“Whoa,” Herrmann muttered, catching his arm before he could stumble.
“I’m fine,” Kelly said automatically.
“Sure.”
Kelly dragged the neoprene hood back from his head, damp hair flattened from hours under the dive gear.
Boden took a thermal blanket from the back of one of the rigs and handed it over. Kelly wrapped it around himself without argument, which probably said more about his condition than anything else could have.
Around them the shoreline was finally beginning to quiet; equipment was being packed away in exhausted silence. Near the edge of the scene, the severed rescue rope still lay abandoned across the concrete.
Kelly stared at it for one second too long.
“He’s alive,” Boden said quietly beside him.
Kelly swallowed hard once before nodding.
“Yeah.” But the image of finding Matt motionless inside that submerged truck still sat lodged in his mind.
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Everyone had eventually filled the hospital waiting room. Wet boots left streaks of dirty lake water across the pale floor tiles while damp turnout coats hung heavily over chairs and armrests.
Hours had passed.
Herrmann paced intermittently near the vending machines, too restless to sit for long. Cruz stayed hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, staring blankly at the floor between his boots. Otis had barely spoken since arriving, his jaw tightening every few minutes as the image of the snapped rope replayed itself relentlessly in his head.
Kelly sat apart from the others. His clothes had long since dried stiff with lake water, but he still felt cold somewhere deep beneath his skin.
The ER doors finally swung open shortly after midnight and a doctor stepped into the waiting area.
Every head turned instantly.
The doctor offered a small reassuring nod before speaking.
“He’s stable.”
The collective release of breath around the room was almost audible.
“He suffered moderate hypothermia from the submersion, aspiration from lake water, and several CPR-related injuries including multiple rib fractures and a fractured sternum. His oxygen levels and neurological responses have improved significantly since arrival.”
Kelly felt his shoulders loosen for the first time in hours.
“He was intubated during transport because he couldn’t maintain or protect his airway adequately,” the doctor continued. “We were able to extubate him a little while ago, and at this point we’re cautiously optimistic there’s no significant neurological injury.”
Cautiously optimistic.
“He’ll remain overnight for monitoring,” the doctor added. “Near-drowning patients can develop delayed pulmonary complications several hours after the event. We’re continuing oxygen therapy, warming measures, repeat imaging, and cardiac monitoring.”
Boden nodded once. “Can we see him?”
“Soon and only briefly,” the doctor said. “He’s exhausted, heavily medicated, and pretty uncomfortable.”
A few strained laughs moved weakly through the room at that description.
Kelly looked down at his hands. Relief has hit him first but now guilt had appeared. His fingers curled unconsciously against his palms as he remembered every crack he had felt beneath them during compressions.
But Matt was alive. He was alive.
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When they were finally allowed to see Matt, everyone tried to squeeze through the doorway at once.
“Jeez,” Herrmann muttered as he spotted him. “You look awful.”
Matt managed the faintest roll of his eyes from the hospital bed.
The colour had somewhat returned to his face, but he still looked exhausted beneath the blankets piled over him. Heated air hissed softly through the warming blanket draped across his chest while oxygen tubing rested beneath his nose. ECG leads still clung to his skin beneath the hospital gown.
“So the nurse was saying your chest is basically held together by spite now,” Cruz spoke up, trying to lift the mood.
“Good,” Matt rasped. “Spite’s free.” That earned a few laughs in response.
Otis hovered awkwardly near the back of the room, still carrying the weight of the rope snapping somewhere behind his eyes. Matt noticed immediately.
“Wasn’t your fault,” he said quietly before Otis could say anything. “Wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
Otis nodded once, swallowing hard.
After a few more minutes, the adrenaline that had been carrying everybody for hours finally began to wear off. One by one they filtered back out into the corridor.
Eventually only Kelly remained.
The room fell quieter, the warming unit continued its low hum while fresh snow tapped faintly against the dark hospital window outside.
Kelly sat back down in the chair beside the bed. “You planning on doing that again anytime? Not sure I can take it.”
“Probably not today.”
Kelly smiled, sitting back. “Appreciate it.”
A nurse appeared briefly in the doorway then, glancing between them with the expression of someone long accustomed to firefighters ignoring visiting hours.
“Not too much longer,” she said gently.
Kelly nodded. “Yeah.”
She left again without pressing the issue.
Herrmann had been right. Without the chaos of the rescue around him, Matt somehow looked worse.
The hospital lights bleached what little colour the lake hadn’t already stolen from his skin. Faint bruising had begun surfacing along his sternum and ribs beneath the collar of the gown, dark fingerprints blooming where compressions had battered his chest back into functioning. His lips were still dry and pale beneath the oxygen cannula, and every breath remained shallow.
Even resting, he looked exhausted down to the bone. There was dried lake water still caught faintly in the strands of his hair near his temple despite the nurses cleaning him up. An IV disappeared into the back of one hand while pulse oximeter lights blinked red against his finger in the dim room.
Kelly folded his arms tightly against himself.
A few hours ago, Matt had been unconscious at the bottom of a lake. Kelly still couldn’t quite force his brain past that fact. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the inside of the submerged truck again. Matt pinned motionless against the dashboard. That awful stillness underwater where nothing moved except drifting air bubbles.
And then the feeling of ribs breaking beneath his hands, and the moment he’d lost the pulse entirely.
Kelly scrubbed a hand hard across his face.
Matt shifted slightly beneath the blankets with a small grimace.
“Don’t,” Kelly said immediately.
Matt blinked at him sluggishly. “Don’t what?”
“Move too much.”
“You’re being very bossy,” came Matt’s tired reply.
“Nearly drowned. Lost your opinion privileges.”
Matt made the smallest tired sound that might have been a laugh before wincing again from the pain in his chest.
The movement tugged another cough from him, rough and wet from irritation still lingering in his lungs. Kelly instinctively leaned forward before catching himself.
“M’good. M’good.”
“You’re not, but I’ll humour you for now.”
═════════════════
Several hours later, Matt woke abruptly to pain.
Every breath felt bruised all the way through his chest, something cracked and splintered shifted each time his lungs expanded, the ache spread into his ribs, shoulders, even his back.
For a few disoriented seconds he stayed perfectly still beneath the blankets, eyes half-open against the dim hospital room.
His body no longer felt freezing cold at least. The violent shivering had faded hours ago, leaving behind an exhausted heaviness instead. The heated air blanket had been removed at some point, replaced now with ordinary hospital blankets tucked tightly around him.
His throat burned and his chest hurt.
He shifted slightly, intending to sit up, pain detonated instantly through his sternum. He sucked in a sharp breath and immediately regretted that too.
“Yeah,” Kelly’s voice said from the darkness nearby. “Didn’t I say not to move earlier.”
Matt turned his head slowly.
Kelly was still there. Half-asleep in the chair beside the bed, one arm folded across his chest, a vending machine coffee sitting beside him.
Matt attempted another small adjustment against the pillows. Another wave of pain rolled through him hard enough that his eyes squeezed shut briefly. His breathing hitched unevenly and he turned his face slightly away, trying to hide it.
Kelly saw anyway.
A faint sheen of tears had gathered at the corners of Matt’s eyes, his body’s response to pain too strong to suppress completely. Matt scrubbed quickly at one eye with the heel of his hand like it annoyed him more than the injury itself.
“I’m fine,” he muttered hoarsely.
“Sure,” Kelly said flatly.
Matt tried to answer, but another rough cough tore out of him first. Pain ripped visibly through his chest, he curled slightly inward on instinct with another strained sound before catching himself, jaw tightening hard enough that the muscles jumped.
Kelly was on his feet immediately.
“Okay, that’s enough of that.”
“I said I’m fi—”
“You are in pain. Pain is gonna stop you from breathing properly and knowing your luck today, you’ll end up with pneumonia.”
Matt glared weakly at him.
Kelly hit the call button before Matt could object further.
A nurse appeared a minute later. “What’s going on?”
Kelly gestured toward the bed. “He woke up in more pain.”
Matt immediately looked irritated.
The nurse checked the monitor before looking back at Matt.
“That makes sense,” she said. “Your adrenaline’s worn off, you’re warmer now, and chest injuries from CPR tend to become much more painful several hours later.”
Matt closed his eyes briefly.
“You also nearly drowned,” she added mildly while checking his oxygen tubing.
Kelly folded his arms; he wasn’t even trying to hide the smirk on his face.
Matt opened one eye enough to glare at him again.
The nurse smiled faintly despite herself before adjusting the IV line.
“I’ll give you something stronger for the pain,” she said.
Matt hesitated.
Kelly pointed at him immediately. “Don’t.”
“I wasn’t saying anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
The nurse snorted softly while preparing the medication.
A few minutes later the tension had finally started easing back out of Matt’s face as the medication took effect. His breathing remained shallow, but less strained now.
Kelly settled back into the chair, more relaxed now Matt was in less pain.
Matt looked over at him blearily through exhaustion and medication haze.
“You know you could’ve gone home.”
Kelly shrugged slightly.
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Sometime after three in the morning, the hospital room had gone almost completely silent apart from the steady rhythm of monitors and the soft hiss of oxygen.
Kelly sat half-asleep in the chair beside the bed, arms folded tightly across his chest, exhaustion dragging heavily at him now that his own adrenaline had finally burned away.
Matt had fallen into a deeper sleep about an hour earlier. Although even unconscious, he never seemed fully relaxed. Every so often his expression tightened faintly with pain or another shallow cough disturbed his breathing before he settled again beneath the blankets.
The monitor beside him suddenly changed tone.
Kelly’s eyes opened instantly.
The oxygen saturation number was drifting downward.
He straightened slowly in the chair, pulse kicking unpleasantly in his chest.
Matt’s breathing had become shallower in sleep, each breath uneven beneath the blankets, his chest barely rising.
The alarm changed pitch and within seconds the door opened and a nurse stepped briskly into the room followed by a respiratory therapist carrying additional oxygen equipment.
Kelly stood automatically.
“What happened?”
“Probably nothing serious,” the nurse said calmly, already checking the oxygen tubing. “This isn’t unusual after a near drowning.”
Matt stirred faintly at the voices but didn’t properly wake.
The respiratory therapist slipped a stethoscope beneath the collar of the gown, listening carefully to Matt’s lungs while the nurse watched the monitor.
“He’s breathing very shallowly,” she said quietly. “Pain’s probably contributing.”
“And the aspiration,” the therapist added. “His lungs are still irritated.”
As if on cue, Matt coughed weakly in his sleep, the sound wet and rough deep in his chest. The saturation dipped again briefly, the nurse increased the oxygen flow slightly.
“Matt,” she said gently, resting a hand against his shoulder. “I need you to wake up a little for me.”
Matt frowned faintly, brow tightening beneath damp strands of hair, he took another shallow breath.
“Come on,” the nurse encouraged softly. “Take a deeper breath.”
Matt made a tired sound of protest behind the oxygen cannula but managed a slightly deeper inhale before wincing faintly from the pain in his chest.
The monitor climbed slowly upward again.
“Better,” the respiratory therapist said quietly.
He adjusted the pulse oximeter probe on Matt’s finger, watching the numbers stabilise for a moment before glancing toward the oxygen setup.
“We’ll leave the cannula on for now,” he said. “If he drops again we can switch him to a mask.”
Kelly finally exhaled.
The therapist stepped back from the bedside. “We’ll repeat the chest x-ray in the morning,” he explained quietly to Kelly. “Fluid and inflammation in the lungs sometimes take time to fully develop.”
Kelly looked back toward the bed. Matt looked too pale against the hospital pillow, bruising spreading darker now across his chest beneath the collar of the gown.
“But right now,” the therapist added, “I’m not too concerned.”
Kelly nodded once.
The nurse lowered the monitor alarm volume slightly before glancing back toward him.
“You should probably get some rest too.”
Kelly looked briefly at the chair beside the bed.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. Then he sat back down anyway, he wasn’t going anywhere.
═════════════════
Morning arrived slowly through the hospital windows, pale winter light spilling weakly across the room.
Matt was awake by the time they came to take him for the repeat chest x-ray, though only technically.
He looked exhausted as usual. The bruising across his chest had darkened overnight into deep purple shadows beneath the collar of the hospital gown, and every movement still seemed carefully negotiated with pain. Even sitting upright long enough for the porter to adjust the stretcher left him breathing shallowly through clenched teeth.
“You look even worse today,” Kelly observed from the chair beside the bed.
Matt blinked at him tiredly. “Maybe I feel worse too.”
“Well, yesterday you were mostly unconscious.”
A nurse arrived a few minutes later to wheel Matt downstairs for imaging.
“We’re just repeating the chest x-ray,” she explained while checking his oxygen tubing. “Make sure there’s no delayed fluid build-up in the lungs.”
Matt nodded once, though he already looked half-asleep again.
Kelly stood automatically as they prepared to move him.
“You don’t have to follow me everywhere,” Matt muttered. “You still stink of lake water.”
“I’ll go home when Shay gets here to keep you company. Maybe.”
Matt gave him a tired look that lacked any real irritation.
By the time the chest x-ray was finished and they returned to the room, the oxygen had finally been reduced slightly. Matt had already drifted back asleep before the nurse even finished reconnecting the monitors.
Kelly settled back into the chair beside the bed, automatically resuming his quiet watch.
Not long afterward, the doctor returned carrying the x-ray results.
Kelly reached over and nudged Matt gently awake.
Matt frowned immediately. “Th’hell time’s it?” he muttered hoarsely.
“Doctor’s here to see you,” Kelly replied.
The doctor smiled faintly before glancing down at the chart.
“No worsening fluid accumulation,” he said. “Your lungs actually sound a little better this morning.”
Kelly exhaled as Matt only blinked tiredly, still looking heavily medicated and exhausted beneath the blankets.
“You’re still going to feel awful for a while,” the doctor continued. “The sternum fracture alone is going to make breathing painful, and you’ll probably be exhausted for several days. Your lungs also took a significant hit from the aspiration. But,” the doctor added, “considering the severity of the incident, you were extremely lucky. I’d expect a full recovery with time. A few months and you should be fit for duty again.”
That finally pulled a tired smile from Matt.
Kelly leaned back slightly in the chair beside him, some of the tension finally easing out of his shoulders.
“We are going to keep you another night for observation,” the doctor continued. “Mostly precautionary at this point, but between the aspiration, intermittent oxygen requirement, and chest injuries, I’d rather not rush discharge.”
Matt looked vaguely dissatisfied by this information.
The doctor noticed immediately. “And frankly,” he added dryly, “you’re far more likely to rest in here than you are at home.”
Kelly snorted softly. “He’s got you there.”
Matt looked between both of them with the weary resignation of somebody too exhausted and sore to properly argue anymore.
“Traitors,” he muttered.