Disclaimer: Still don't own them.

A/N: Heavy angst ahead. Sort of. Any mistakes or grammatical errors are mine, but it's okay with me if you want them :) Anyway, enjoy!

Lake Michigan

Chapter 3: The Surface

"Alex?" He called, but his voice got caught in his sore throat. He felt like he was about to hyperventilate. His mind raced around one person, one name.

No. He can't be… No!

"Alex!!" He continued calling for his friend as loud as both his neck and the falling rain allowed him.

Chris bent over the rock to look through the water, but he only saw black, ripples and more water; the possibility to look all the way to the bottom was out of question.

A little more ahead he noticed a weak light coming from somewhere deep underwater. It was flickering on and off constantly. Then he remembered that the Explorer's headlights remained on even when it hit the lake bottom and that that was must be the spot where the SUV was. And the flickering thing must be them about to run out of energy. If Alex was still down there, he couldn't wait for the only light source to die; it would be impossible to locate it later.

I must…find him! What if… What if he…

Chris could not accept the possibility of his best friend dying. Without a moment of hesitation, he stripped off his soaked jacket and slid over the rock and plunged into the water again. He moaned when the cold water kicked him again with might as it pierced his skin again. He ignored the stabbing pain and took a long, deep breath before diving underwater. Dead or alive, he was bringing Alex back.

Like with the moonlight before, Chris followed the dying headlights to the crash site. He remembered that the previous dive didn't exhausted the air he held in his lungs, so he trusted that he could go all the way down and back with no major problems. He continued diving until his tumbled Explorer came into view. Close to the driver's side outside was a blurry figure, a person. It looked like a doll from the distance. His gut shrunk when the scene in front of him changed in a horrifying way as he got closer; it made him want to puke.

Alex!

Alex's unmoving body was floating motionless close to the window he broke so they could get out. His eyes were closed and if there wasn't for the obvious situation, Chris would have thought that he was just sleeping.

He approached him until he was face to face to him. He wanted to call him out, to make him open his eyes but that was beyond question. He brought his hand to touch Alex's cheek, but no response came from him, not even a twitch from his face. Chris didn't even felt that his hand was touching him. The cold around him was taking its toll from his body, not to mention his friend's. If they didn't come out of the water quickly they will freeze to death.

He inspected Alex's body to find the reason to why he couldn't make it out of the water. Looking down he found the cause. His left shoe got tangled between the sharp edges of the door metal and the broken side mirror. He swam quickly until he faced the tangled shoe lace. The headlights were flickering rapidly. Chris began to untangle the lace from the debris with numb fingers. He could barely feel them moved, but ironically it hurt like hell to flex him properly. He fought desperately against the broken metal and twisted edges while his unconscious friend seemed oblivious to his surroundings.

C'mon you stupid piece of shit!

The headlights died completely, leaving the bottom of the lake to its natural darkness. When that happened, Chris panicked; he wasn't even half the way when everything went black around him. Now he couldn't see. In desperation, he took off Alex's shoe with some work, freeing him from the vehicle's "grasp". Alex's body began to float away from him, but Chris swam toward him quickly. He grabbed him from under his armpits and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close to him. After he was sure that Alex's would not float away from him, he began to swim back to the surface… and away from that death trap.

I got you buddy. I got you.

He hurried his legs to move faster when he felt that his natural air supply was starting to run out. The extra weight he was carrying was making the job slower that he expected. He released his air slowly hoping that his lungs would last just a little bit longer before they finally burst.

Before he expected, Chris emerged from the water with Alex's body slumped over his left shoulder. The pain on his shoulder - numbed by the cold - was barely noticeable; it wasn't even there. After inhaling his air intake, he headed immediately to the closest patch of ground. His body was running on pure adrenaline now. He kept telling to himself that everything would be okay once they both got out the lake. It was still raining; thunders and lightning filled the cloudy sky.

The sound of rain was half muted by some kind of rumbling sound. It increased it intensity with every second and was coming from practically everywhere. Bewildered, he turned his head from side to side in an attempt to locate the source. When the rumbling sound came close to be deafening, a helicopter passed overflying the area and over them, surveying every spot with a giant light.

"Hey!" Chris shouted with his heart pumping rapidly in his chest. The flying object was too beautiful to be ignored. It flied past his location and away from them. It began to disappear into the horizon. He almost dismayed in the water; their hope – and perhaps their only one – was flying away from them. What? They didn't see us? But they were so close to-

Suddenly, and as if they heard Chris' cry, the helicopter turned around and headed back to them. Then he understood; it was overflying the perimeter, marking the area. Upon understanding, he cheered in excitement and without any containment. "Ha ha ha!! They saw us Alex, they came for us! You freakin' did it, bro!!"

He half expected an answer from his friend, but none came.

Alex's lack of response made Chris mood to fall serious again. He hurried again and swam toward the pebbled shore. When he reached the shallow part, he dragged Alex to safety, far from the water edge and the small breaking waves. Once there, he collapsed along with his friend, breathing heavily. He laid on his stomach by Alex's side for some second until he gathered some energy back into his system.

Chris touched Alex's arm; he was laid on his side, his clothes dripping wet and one shoe short.

"Alex," he called quietly. No movement. "Alex?" He shook his arm softly, but still no answer.

Afraid, he turned his friend on his back and kneeled close to him. Chris gasped when he inspected Alex's face. It was a sickly mix of white and gray, and some veins were visible through the translucent skin. His eyes were closed. The wound in his temple had turn into an angry shade of red and purple, and his lips were tinted blue. He looked dead. Dead.

"Alex?" He called again, raising his voice. He tapped his cheek with one hand; it only lolled limply to the other side. No warmth emanated from it. He brought his ear close to his mouth to feel breath. He brought two fingers to his neck, frantically searching for a pulse. He felt nothing.

No…

He unzipped Alex's black jacket and took it off him, leaving him in his gray shirt. "Give me a sign, Alex! Come on!" Chris ordered his friend, his voice breaking. He brought his ear to Alex to listen to a heartbeat or any other sign of life. Again, nothing.

He's dead. Oh God he's dead!

Urgently, Chris cupped his hands over Alex's torso and began chest compressions. He couldn't wait for help to arrive, it would be too late. "No, you can't die. Not yet man…" He stopped to feel breath from Alex's mouth. Nothing.

He pinched Alex's nostrils and proceeded to breathe life into his lungs. Then he desperately resumed the compressions. His chest refused to rise. "C'mon, you gotta breathe! Damn it, breathe you damn nitwit!" He shouted as he kept pounding on Alex's chest. "Please, Alex, wake up." He pleaded, but his friend remained lifeless.

Chris breathed into Alex's mouth once more, this time he slammed one fist into his sternum, forcing his lungs to respond. "Please…" He begged, his voice finally breaking and giving in to raw emotions. It was frustrating. After all they've been through, he wasn't able to save Alex's life. Now his best friend, his "partner in crime", his brother, was laying dead, drowned on the shores of Lake Michigan, the rain falling over him; all witnessed by the unforgivable cold night. It was not fair.

Don't die on me…

Resigning, Chris breathed into him and slammed his fist into his chest one last time.

On impact, Alex's chest shuddered and a small gurgling moan escaped the fallen man's throat.

"Oh God. Alex?"

Alex convulsed as water exploded from his mouth. Mouthfuls of water were expelled from his lungs as he frantically gasped for air.

"Yes Alex, that's it! Spit it all out!" Chris encouraged. He rolled Alex into his side so he didn't choke on the water that filled his lungs. He heaved and coughed violently as he expelled the last of the remaining water from his lungs. Chris rubbed his arm and his back in a comforting and encouraging way. Seen Alex finally fighting to catch up his breath and responding, Chris felt way beyond relieved.

Once the heaving and coughing stopped, Chris felt Alex fall limp on his stomach again, shivering uncontrollably. His breathing was deep, raspy and uneven. He rolled him over on his back again. It was then that Alex opened his eyes.

"Hey," Chris said and offered a smile despite his still shot nerves. He frowned when he noted something was not right. Alex's dark eyes were opened, but he didn't seem to acknowledge his friend's presence. He was staring straight up to the sky, his sight looked lost and disoriented. His face was still ghost white and his jaw quivered with cold between each labored breath. His eyes were fluttering, as though he were trying very hard to stay awake and was just seconds away to pass out.

Alex felt weird. No. Weird was an understatement because there must be another word in the English language to describe what was happening to his entire frame. He was ice cold, freezing, his muscles trembled and ached as they tried futilely to produce heat. He couldn't move, and he wasn't even sure if his eyes were open or not; he couldn't see a damn thing. And pain. He couldn't move but yet he was able to feel; the piercing pain was all over him and it refused to go away. And for some reason, his breathing was no longer under his control. The mere action on inhaling was stabbing him from the inside out.

What's happening? Make it stop, please…

There were strange sounds somewhere close to him, but they made no sense at all. His hearing seemed to be the only thing he had control over. Through the agonizing migraine that filled his whole brain, he forced his ears to listen and to figure some meaning out of the gurgling water sounds that clogged his understanding.

The voice was talking to him. It was not an echo, it was clear and it sounded closer that he expected. So clear, so recognizable. It was unforgettable.

Chris… I can hear you.

Alex needed to say something, whatever; it didn't matter. He opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't feel it moving at all. Still, he tried.

"Ch-Chri-rhis…" he managed to say in a struggling whisper.

At the mention of his name, Chris reached out to hold his trembling hand. He squeezed it firmly despite his own shivering. "Here Alex, it's gonna be alright." He tried to comfort him.

Some seconds later, Alex squeezed it back. He couldn't help but smile.

Alex was trying to focus a little more on Chris' words, but the scarce clarity on his mind was starting to drift away. Suddenly, the shivering was fading away, as well as the cold in his bones. Breathing became less labored, and he felt so relieved that all his aches were finally ceasing. His desire for sleep became more dominant by the second.

Chris noted how Alex's survival mechanism lowered in intensity; the shivers were diminishing and his breaths sounded less ragged and more in control. Even his body relaxed a little. His eyelids were drooping and he let his head to fall back.

And Chris knew that none of those were good signs.

"No, Alex, stay with me. You can't go to sleep. Do you hear me?" Chris said. He shook him softly and looked at him through the slits of his eyelids, which refused to stay open. He was starting to succumb into panic once more. Chris coughed; the cold was taking its toll over his own body. After it stopped, he continued speaking to Alex. "Just hang on a little longer. C'mon man, you've come too far to let it go like this. You're tougher than that."

The sounds that came from the background made Chris to look up. His pupils shrunk slightly when red and blue lights approached the shore. The symphony of ambulance sirens and police patrol cars muted the sound of rain once more. The helicopter kept circling the area high above, and later was joined by another one coming from someplace he totally ignored. Help had finally arrived. The whole rush made him forget about the upcoming help completely.

Chris put a hand over Alex's cold forehead, but he was already unresponsive. He gave a little cough; the grip in his hand was slackening slowly. He was losing consciousness fast.

When the paramedics arrived at the accident site, he crawled away from the fallen man to let them do their job. He remained sit on the ground, unable to move and breathing heavily. A male medic pressed a stethoscope to his chest, checking his heartbeat; at the same time he took the man's temperature with and ear thermometer. A plastic oxygen mask was placed over the man's mouth and nose by another male medic while the sole female of the medical team pressed a bandage to Alex's forehead. The medics' absent conversation fed the gathering rescue personnel about the man's condition.

"He's going into shock…"

"He's having trouble breathing…"

"Slow heartbeat…"

"Core temperature's low…"

"Contusion on his head. Possible concussion…"

Chris seemed to be watching and listening how the trio of medics worked on Alex, but he wasn't paying attention at all. His vision blurred as soon as the lights approached him and random movements invaded the space around him; everything looked rippled and distorted, like if he was watching them from underwater. His muscles ached because of the shivering and as much as he wanted to control it, he lacked the strength to do so. It was tiresome even to listen.

"We'll retrieve… blankets once… on the ambulance…"

"Sir?"

He blinked, forcing his eyes to see through the rain and his ever growing brain fog. He just caught a glimpse of his friend laying strapped on a gurney and being loaded into the ambulance by a group of blue shadows.

Are they aliens?

"Sir, are you alright?"

Chris came out of his stupor when he felt a hand touch his injured shoulder. He turned his head and saw a dark figure kneeled in front of him. His face appeared to be swimming, moving; the nose and eyes were shifting positions in his face. If he – or she - was talking to him, he wasn't able to discern the mouth from the rest of its features. They looked like jolly gelatin. He freaked out a little.

"I-" He blinked once and looked at the mystery guy. His features fell into place, but they were still moving.

"Sir, you need… by a medic…"

"I'm okay," he slurred, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. "I-I'm just…"

He'd been holding on for so long, but the physical and emotional exhaustion were too heavy for him to keep ignoring. He managed to get out of his sunken car, made it to the shore, went into the water again, got Alex out to the surface and even brought him back among the living. Now that help was finally there he was sure that both Alex and him were going to be okay.

He will live. Alex has to be okay…

He did what he could, out of instinct and loyalty, and so did Alex when they were trapped on the vehicle. Nothing was under his control any longer; let the others do the rest.

I can't… So tired… Cold…

The funny-face person began to blacken before his eyes. Chris suddenly felt lightheaded as his balance was robbed abruptly from his body. He couldn't tell if his eyes were opened or closed when all the distortion around him turned black. His mind never registered when he let his body fall to his side. He didn't feel when the pebbles and small rocks rose up to meet his face or noticed the two arms that attempted to halt his fall halfway.

"I need a medic here! This man is also injured!"

It was the last thing his hearing caught before closing entirely to the world outside.

It was dark again. It was getting heavier with each minute that passed. The damned absence of color was getting into him; he dreaded it, it was driving him crazy. He couldn't remember succumbing into that void, or how. In fact he didn't remember how it got dark in the first place. It happened fast, like in a movie that was being played in fast-forward. It was a mixture of different things – bad things. Panic, cold, pain, confusion; it was everywhere at the same time and it was getting excruciating and unbearable with each passing minute. He couldn't move his body or call for help. The silence around him was ironically deafening. He felt detached from himself. He felt lifeless. And up to the moment, feeling lifeless was painful.

He didn't want to be there. Any place would be much better than that empty hole where he was being held on by his own self. He tried to submit images to his brain, the most recent ones; perhaps it would ease his stress somehow. The six-sided ring was the first thing that came, the red ropes and its turnbuckles around it, the rafters that held the brilliant lights high above the arena. The big platform from where he and his colleagues made their entrance was bathed with colorful lasers and white smoke. It was so clear, it all represented him.

It was all he was; his passion, what he lived for. Making stunts and risky moves, holding the microphone in his hand and making the audience thrive in emotions and cheers… those were the things that made him - Alex Shelley - happy and whole. But now in his predicament, his future looked grim, barely existent. The thought of not being able to wake up was killing him. He wanted his anger to overshadow his depression and sadness, but even his emotions weren't cooperating with the rest of his body. The swallowing darkness was defeating him and he could do nothing to stop it.

A loud noise exploded somewhere close to him, and as on cue, the images were gone and physical feeling returned to his system. The stabbing headache, the painful cramps in his body, the pressure in his chest; they all reappeared at once and hit him as hard as any blow he'd ever received. And like any blow, it hurt.

He was aware of the pain and the movement around him, and a strange feeling of weightless suspension under him. His limps were still numb and the uncontrollable shivering started to take him over again. Despite that, he felt something warm covering him that was making him feel comfortable.

The movements halted suddenly. The warm weight was removed and he was exposed to the unforgivable environment again. Voices invaded his ears, wherever he was. The straps that held him on the gurney were untied.

"Male… twenties… car accid-"

The sounds of tearing fabric made him burn with embarrassment as he felt fully exposed to the strangers that roamed nearby. Warm hands began to poke him; the sensation was barely noticeable through his skin. He felt tiny pricks somewhere in his body, he wasn't sure where. A minute later, the same kind warmth enveloped him once more. But the shivering didn't diminish a bit and it was making it hard to breathe.

"He's severely hypothermic…"

"Body temp at 82.3…"

More noises attacked his disoriented ears; they were coming and going without notice. Whatever they were saying made no sense to him. Alex could hear beeping sounds and mechanical buzzing somewhere in the background.

"Op… wound in right tem-"

He felt something being poured on his forehead. He flinched as the unknown liquid burned inside his head wound. He tried to suppress to groan, but he was too weak even to do that. He opened his mouth to moan in pain, but the warm oxygen blast forced its way into his nose and mouth prevented him from making any audible sound. He twisted his head trying to shake loose the cupped mask, resulting in a wave of dizziness.

"Sir?"

Somebody's hand righted his face.

"Sir? Can you hear me?"

Was somebody calling him? The voice sounded like a female.

Lucky day…

"If you can hear me, open your eyes." She sounded in control.

The urgency in her voice forced him to obey. His eyes slowly peeled open, harsh light blinding him momentarily. He closed them and opened again quickly, letting his eyes to get used to the source. The blurry face of middle-aged woman in white coat was staring at him at the head of the emergency table. Some other's hands were working on his head while he felt a couple of nurses working on him somewhere out of his sight.

He tried to speak. The oxygen mask stifled the sound again. He wanted so much to say something.

As if reading his mind, the doctor retrieved the mask from his mouth. Breathing became a little more difficult after that, but nonetheless he felt somehow free.

"Good, breathe deeply." The doctor encouraged. "Now I need you to tell me your name, sir."

He swallowed the dryness of his mouth and throat. He tried to speak but only a rough grunt came out. He couldn't even speak properly.

How pathetic. He sighed in frustration.

"Don't rush it, sir. Take it easy. Just your name."

Swallowing dry again, he concentrated his energy on his speech. "A-Alex." He breathed. "Where-"

The doctor cut him short. "Alex, I'm Dr. Johnson. You're at the hospital now. Don't be scared." She assured him. "Alex, I need you to move your fingers. Both hands. Can you do that?"

What did she say? He was cold, hurting, tired, and she wanted him to move his fingers? He knew that when the doctors asked that it means that there could be something broken or some sort of paralysis. His mood sank deeper and he was getting scared. Those were not good news.

With much effort, he managed to flex his trembling fingers slightly.

"Very good," Dr. Johnson said. "Now can you move your toes?"

Oh give me a break. Alex was beginning to feel mortified by this woman. It was not his lucky day after all. But if he obeyed and did what she said, maybe they would let him rest.

He did what he ordered and managed to wiggle his toes. The action made his whole feet hurt. "Okay, Alex. You did it very good." Dr. Johnson said in a cheerful tone, as if she was talking to a little boy. She cupped the oxygen mask on his mouth and nose again.

A jolt of pain struck his head. He raised a hand to touch the source but another hand held him down. "Ow!"

"Yes, I know that hurt but you must not touch it. You received a nasty blow to your head. It's been cleaned right now so we can stitch it later. You may have a concussion but nothing is broken." She said loud over the beeping machines and indistinctive muttering. "Where else does it hurt?"

"Everywhere…" He winced. His jaw quivered. "It-I'm… fr-freezing."

"I know. You're suffering from severe hypothermia. If the EMS crew had brought you here an hour later, it would have been another story, trust me." Dr. Johnson explained. "We're trying to raise your core temperature but it's a slow process; you need to be patient. It can take some hours or even days. I'll have to make some other tests to know if something else in your body has been compromised by that. We'll be monitoring your condition closely to see if your heart rate and motor skills had been damaged by the exposure."

Alex looked squarely at the doctor with glassy eyes, not giving her the smallest sign that he was actually understanding. He wasn't sure if he wanted to scream or cry. He started to wonder if being dead was better than to have a grim and uncertain future ahead.

Dr. Johnson noted the young man's distress. "Don't be scared. It's just standard procedure. You responded perfectly when I asked to move your limps. You also lifted your arm voluntarily and you're coherent enough. That's just beyond good. You're going to be alright, I promise." She stroked his damp hair gently, comforting him.

Alex didn't believe her at all. He let out an exhausted sigh and closed his eyes, but opened them back quickly when some fragmented memories invaded his weary mind. Something was amiss. Or better said: someone.

Oh God…

"Chris…" he said absently. It was followed by a weak cough. Damn, how could he forget about him? The blow and the cold surely affected his brain already.

"What? What did you say?"

"My f-friend," he tried to raise his voice. "H-He was with me…"

"Oh yes, Mr. Sabin." The doctor recalled.

"W-Where is him?" He asked her. He silently prayed. Please, let him be alright.

"He's here too. He arrived just after you." Dr. Johnson said. "He's been taken care of right now. I'll tell you more as soon as I know, okay?"

No, it wasn't okay. He wanted to know more. At least he knew that he was alive. He remembered so little about their ordeal. He didn't know if something happened to Chris after he got out of the car; he didn't what exactly happened to him after that. But what if he was in worst condition than him? His own condition was not very good at all. He couldn't let his best friend to endure what he was enduring. He shook his head in denial.

"Listen Alex, I need to run more tests and CT's to decide if you need to go to the operating room. Because of the concussion, I need you to stay awake a little longer. You understand?"

"I can't… s-stay a-awake…" He whimpered pitifully. He felt a little tap on his cheek. Dr. Johnson was forcing him not to fall asleep, and that was all he wanted at that moment.

"Alex, just hold on a little longer…"

His eyelids felt extremely heave for him to keep them open. His eyes began to droop again as the sounds around him began to fade. The shivering ceased gradually and the pain was reduced to an uncomfortable tingle. He didn't fight it, which was weird enough for him. He sighed wearily as he sunk deeper into the thermal blankets that covered him. There was no one that would force him to stay awake in great discomfort and pain. Not his boss, not his friends, or any of his dates; not even his own mother.

"Come on, stay with me. Not yet…"

He gave in to the darkness once more, hoping that when he wakes up, that whole water-filled nightmare would be over.

TBC...

A/N: Poor guys...

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