A/N: Okay, second fanfic of all time. I'm a big fan of the Captain, but as far as I know, not a creepy fangirl :3 I went through all of the searches, and I only found like four stories without SparkAnt (personally, I found it hilarious but whatever :\) ANYWAY... I thought I'd give the world of fanfiction another realistic story with CaptainSparklez. I hope you enjoy!

Jordan's POV

I always had high hopes for my future. You know; meeting a nice girl, settle down, the works. But I never expected to be the one to save her life.

Cars in LA were always fancy and shiny and stuff, unlike the people who drove them. I remembered that horrifying scene like it was burned onto the insides of my eyelids. She was standing there, fifty feet away from me, just across the street from the cafés outdoor eating area. She stood next to a stoplight, waiting for the sign to change.

The breeze was slight, sweeping plastic bags and paper down the busy streets. Time seemed to slow as she stepped out onto the crosswalk. One, two, three steps. A flash of black zoomed into my vision. This beat-up truck wasn't slowing down. In fact, he was speeding up, accelerating faster and faster. And then she was gone.

I yelled out to her… just as she smacked into the pavement. I felt as if I'd been socked in the stomach. I swear I heard her bones crack. My eyes widened and my jaw hit the floor. I didn't know what to do. I went brain-dead. I couldn't breathe. My heart stopped. All of the screeching tires, the honks, and the screams of frightened people faded away as I stared at the listless body in front of me and heard nothing but the pounding of blood.

"CALL NINE-ONE-ONE!" I shouted at the crowd of people just standing, gaping at the accident. I sprinted out to the lane where the girl was lying. No-one had run out to help her. What? I didn't stop to dwell on it.

I knelt by her and tried to remember what people did when they came across someone in an accident.

The side of her face and head were raw and bleeding slowly, staining her black hair red. Dirt clogged her small injuries, probably because she skidded on the rough pavement after the initial hit. Her arms and hands were scraped up too. Deep gashes dotted her knees, and I could see part of her right leg where the car's shredded bumper had caught onto her jeans. Then I looked at her leg as a whole. It was bent at an angle that shouldn't have been possible. The very tip of a white object had broken the skin on her right thigh and her clothes were tainted in blood. Oh my god. I took a shuddered breath, and tried to think again.

Her breathing. Was she even alive? Oh dear god. I gently placed a hand over her mouth, seeing if I could feel a breath. Anything. But to my dismay, there was nothing. Oh god no, please, please don't die. Strange, I felt some kind of responsibility for her, this girl I didn't even know. Maybe it was because she looked familiar. Or maybe it was because I was the only one who could've prevented it. The least I could do was save her.

I vaguely recalled a poster for CPR I'd seen in a doctor's office. Pinch the nose, tilt the head back, and breathe. Then three pushes, then breathe. I dropped to my knees and placed my right hand over my left. Push, push, push. I gingerly opened her mouth. It's not a kiss, not a kiss… I mentally kicked myself. Jordan, of all the times to think about this! And without a second thought, I pressed my lips against hers. Breathe, you idiot. BREATHE. I managed to exhale and pull back. I tried to distract myself as I felt her neck with my fingers. Her lips had tasted like lemonade. Another mental kick. Stop, you stupid idiot!

By the time the paramedics had arrived, the girl had started breathing again, but hadn't woken up. Two or three bystanders had gathered around me with tissues and any bandages they could find, putting pressures on the cuts they could see. I slid my arms under her shoulders and back and gently lifted her up and onto a gurney, being careful not to move her leg. Her body was warm.

One of the paramedics, the one in charge, I guess, came up to me as I watched them load her into the back of an ambulance.

"Are you the one who helped her?" His gaze was seriously intimidating. I wanted to look away.

"Umm… yes." He raised his eyebrows.

"Do you know the victim?" Did I? She sure looked familiar, but…

"I don't think so. But I want to know if she's going to be alright." He raised his eyebrows even further. Maybe he got the impression that the "citizens of LA" didn't really give a shit about other human beings, so my concern for an absolute stranger seemed out of place to him. But right now I didn't really care what he thought of me.

"Okay then. Get in the back and you can wait in the emergency room lobby." He spoke slowly, as if I was going to disobey or something. I stepped onto the metal floor of the ambulance truck, sat down, rested my head in my hands, and closed my eyes, listening to the steady beep, beep, beep of her heart.

(ok paranoia time! I want to know how I did capturing Jordan's personality. It's kinda hard because as a Let's Player, he tends to keep to himself, but I do want to know how I did. Thank you!)