I was drabbling. I couldn't stop thinking about Jogan, which is weird, because to be perfectly honest, I'm SO not a Jogan shipper. But this came to me, and I think I like it. Tell me what you think, please?

He couldn't breathe. Nothing was working right. The world was turning every which way but up, and he couldn't fucking breathe.

How had he come here? Why was this happening to him? What on Earth had he been thinking? This wasn't a place for him; it wasn't a place for anyone. He knew that now.

Now that he was dying.

His mind was racing. It was true that your life flashed before your eyes when you were dying. Except, it wasn't flashing, so much as meandering. Why did all of his memories have to be about him? Every single fucking memory that he thought about while dying was about him. It shouldn't end this way.

His time was almost up. The world was spinning, he was being tossed and turned, over and over, topsy-turvy and never knowing which way was the way to freedom. To salvation. To air.

He began to see spots before his eyes, and he would have to take a breath soon, even if it was the worst mistake in the history of mistakes he had ever made. Mistakes like not telling the man he loved that he was actually in love with him. Mistakes like letting a stalker rule his life for more than a few months. Mistakes like not going to the police when he had a chance.

Mistakes like trying to take his life by walking out into the ocean.

He had been trying to get over him for years now. He'd loved him since freshman year. No matter what he did, no matter what he said, no matter whom he'd loved, it always came back to him.

Logan.

Julian took a breath. He'd tried not to, but a particularly forceful wave had crashed over him, tumbling him ass over teakettle, and he'd hit his head against a rock. It was enough to send him into shock, and he'd gasped and filled his lungs with water.

The spots returned en force, as his body spasmed while trying to process a substance that wasn't air. His limbs went limp, his eyes began rolling back in his head, and the rolling noise of the waves around, above and below him became slightly less loud.

Then a painful jerk to his stomach pulled him back from the brink.

He was being pulled up. A pair of hands were on him, wrapped around him, cushioning him from the worst blows. But the water was sill in his lungs. He was still going to die.

Then there was air. Blessed, sacred, delicious air. A mouth over his own, blowing the live-giving substance into his lungs. A pair of hands forcing the water out.

He choked, coughing, sputtering, his heart thumping wildly in his chest as it tried to regain the smooth rhythm it had nearly lost.

He was rolled into his side, and his back was rubbed harshly, to help expel more water from his poor, abused lungs. He curled up into a foetal position, his knees pressing into his chest in an effort to clear even more water from his lungs.

As he regained consciousness, he realised abruptly that there was more than one saviour. In fact, here were two. Two who were familiar. Two who looked so much alike that most couldn't tell them apart.

"You're lucky we were smart enough to follow you, Cheshire," Breathed the first boy softly. "Any longer, and you might have died."

"Yes, definitely," Answered the second boy, just as softly. "Don't you know that cats don't like water?"

Julian laughed weakly, still bent over on the sand. Damn the Tweedles and their Alice in Wonderland quips.

I've decided I really love Protective!Tweedles a lot. I may write more of these. Having the Tweedles save their friends is awesome.