Darkness

It had been hours since the cave in. Danny had gone after a ghost when it had tried to escape into the ground itself. And when their Mom and Dad had gone after InvisoBill they'd managed to calibrate a weapon that would blast a tunnel down to where the fighting was. Jazz had followed, of course, and so had Sam and Tucker.

They hadn't known that the tunnel was so unstable. It had taken them all by surprise when it had started to go with a creak that echoed up from beneath them. Danny had still been on one side with the ghost, now safely being sucked into a thermos, and Sam had made a dash for him. He'd seen her, realized what was going on, and had tried to protect her.

And then the entire tunnel between them and everyone else had collapsed leaving Jazz and Sam and Danny on one side, and everyone else on the other. They were coming, she told herself. They were coming, they would be rescued. Jazz believed it, had to believe it. It was the only way she could keep herself from becoming hysterical.

Sam had already cried herself into unconsciousness. The fact that Jazz had conked her in the head with a blunt rock might have helped a little, but the poor girl had been hysterical after they'd managed to dig Danny out from underneath the mountain rock and earth Sam would have been buried beneath if he hadn't pushed her out of the way.

She was no doctor, but the fact that his legs had been… crushed, lacerated, ruined… damaged badly was pretty obvious. If, when he woke up, he was going to be in agony. And still there were no sounds of rescue coming closer. Dead silent in the darkness.

And then she heard it, the slight change to his breathing. From smooth and regular to think and ragged. And her name on his lips. "Jazz?"

"I'm here Danny."

"What happened?" He sounded so calm, he should have been screaming.

"It collapsed."

"Sam," he breathed, and Jazz reached out in the darkness to smooth his hair back.

"She's sleeping, Danny. You saved her life."

He was silent after that for a long time, and Jazz began to think that he'd slipped back into unconsciousness. His hair was soft beneath her fingers as she stroked it, trying to be comforting but not knowing if the motion was to soothe him or herself. Still soft, even with blood and dirt and dust. And he was awake, she knew he was awake now, because she could feel him moving, when her fingers slipped across his temple she could feel the frantic pace of his pulse.

And his voice again, more ragged, and Jazz wondered if he was crying as he said the fact so calmly, so resolutely.

"Jazz. I can't feel my legs."

She didn't even have the presence of mind to tell him that it was probably better that he couldn't.