It wasn't even a real mission.
They'd gone swimming and the weather had turned a little choppy. Nightwing had underestimated the severity of the storm. La'gaan had known exactly ho bad it would get, but he'd made the stupid, stupid mistake of forgetting that humans were pathetic little flies in the water. A little choppiness for him was lifethreatening for them. It hadn't occurred to him that Mal's ability to swim, which was pretty good for a human, couldn't fight the little current.
Stupid.
Nightwing and Robin were already radioing for help. La'gaan didn't wait for orders; he dove into the water and slipped between the turbulent currents. Living things everywhere, tiny, not dangerous, beneath notice. The familiar tug of the water pressed him onward like a strong breeze. It only took a couple of minutes for him to dive down, grab the back of Mal's shorts, and drag him to the surface. Even in the water, Mal's bulk was a heavy, clumsy weight; La'gaan inflated and he became almost weightless.
A human could die in a couple of minutes.
Mal didn't move in his grip. Not good. Could be the drowning response, which meant he had a decent chance of survival. Could be unconscious, where there was still hope. Could be dead.
La'gaan cradled the man in his arms and laid an ear to his chest. No heartbeat, but in the roaring ocean it was impossible to be sure. He pulled him onto a craggy shard of rock jutting heroically from the turbulent waters, dragged him up onto a ledge almost wide enough to contain him, and deflated. "Wake up, Chum."
No response. No breathing.
No pulse.
"You are so paying me back for this." No room to go full size. But no need. Human strength was enough for CPR. La'gaan straddled Mal as best he could on the narrow, splintery ledge, placed his hands over his heart, and pressed down.
Thirty presses. A rib cracked somewhere. Hopefully it wouldn't stab anything important, but it wouldn't matter if he couldn't get the heart beating.
He leaned forward. Made sure Mal's head was leaning back. Locked lips, blocking his nose with his cheek. Breathed out. Felt Mal's chest rise beneath him, just slightly, with his own breath. Four sharp breaths.
Nothing.
He pressed down again, thirty pumps on the breastbone, Mal's pectoral muscles lying limp under his hands. More breaths.
A cough. Movement.
"Mal?"
Mal spluttered, struggled. La'gaan rolled him over onto his side and held him steady while he retched and threw up the water in his lungs into the waves below.
"You ok, chum?"
Mal moved to say something, then grimaced in pain, wheezing.
"You probably have a couple of broken ribs. Careful." And salt water probably didn't feel that great in human lungs either, come to think of it. But Mal just nodded and gave him a thumb's-up.
He'd almost lost him. He'd made a stupid mistake and he hadn't understood how vulnerable Mal was and he'd almost lost him. But he was fine. Or would be, after some medical attention.
Only then did La'gaan realise that Nightwing's voice was screaming in his ear.
"Lagoon boy! Lagoon boy, what's your status?!"
"Fine! We're, uh, we're secure. Both of us." He looked from his injured, dazed teammate to the seething waters below their precarious perch. "We might require pickup."