A/N: Guten Tag! Sorry this one's a bit short and ramble-y, my brain just kinda went 'Splegh' and this came out so... gotta' make-do with what I've got, right?

On a random note, I've been playing a lot of Mirror's Edge Catalyst and now I want to run everywhere and jump on some conveniently-placed red objects. Also Internet Support Group 10 was great.

Toodles,
-Whisker

One of the lessons that Dan had learned this June was to never sit back and say to yourself that everything was going to be smooth sailing, because it never was, and Dan had to learn that the hard way.

The sound he'd heard had been an error alert noise, and not only were he and Phil faced with the prospect of being trapped in the Crash, but the air was completely motionless and dense, and it wouldn't be long before they started struggling for breath.

"What do we do?" Dan swallowed, turning to his friend for any sort of help, even though they were both as clueless as each-other. As soon as the words had left his mouth, however, he immediately regretted saying them: he should have stayed calm and tried not to stem any anxiety, but of course his first instinct had been to look to his beloved, committed companion for proposals of any sort of plan. He shouldn't have worried about having inspired any tension, though, as he was met with a surprisingly confidently spoken suggestion.

"The satellite?" Phil offered, looking absurdly calm – even if a bit bewildered – in the current circumstance, "It might not be the computer crashing; it might be something within the game."

"I'm not so sure, but there's not much else we can do," Dan mumbled, unsteadily getting to his feet. He hadn't a clue what Phil was thinking the satellite could actually do to help, but he'd follow along with anything he said.

The ground felt weird under his feet, like the twigs and leaves that would usually crunch under his step stayed in one piece and made no sound. The world around him was a vacuum, a void acquit of any noise whatsoever apart from an odd, empty drone like the whirr of a CPU.

It was best not to rush into things, Dan thought. There was no need to hurry; it would only make them stressed. Just take it slow and easy, and- Wait. No, he was running. He found himself running. He justified this to himself because Phil had broken his composed smokescreen and was now also running.

Nothing was happening and maybe that was a whole lot worse than a lot of things actually happening.

It had been perfect – the atmosphere was calm, the trees were beautiful, the stars stunning – but now none of that mattered, and neither did the amazing view of the moon they were getting, because all that mattered right this moment was figuring out how to fix the game and get out of the Crash. If there was no way of fixing it… and there was no way of getting out… then they could be stuck here in a frozen universe for goodness knows how long: eternity maybe.

Dan swallowed the lump in his throat and panted from the unaccustomed exercise. A feeling of guilt washed over him like the one from February. He knew this wasn't his fault, but… it felt like it was.

"Phil!" He called over, and his friend abruptly turned to him.

"What is it, Dan?" Phil asked, gasping for breath, his ankles cracking like glow sticks every time his feet hit the ground. The ground that didn't feel like it was really there.

"I'm so sorry…"

"What? No! What are you talking about?"

"I… I dragged you out here. I assured you everything would be OK," Dan started, "I was going to suggest heading home, but… I decided to stay… we should have left-"

"You stop that right now," Phil ordered, slowing his pace to eventually halt, Dan skidding to a stop beside him, "This isn't the time to shame yourself and complain about it being your fault. It's nobody's fault, but it's important, and if we don't get it sorted out, it could spell catastrophe. This whole world could freeze and never thaw out again. You think it really matters whose fault it is?" He breathed, leaning his palms on his knees and catching his breath.

Dan opened his mouth to speak but no words came out and he closed it again, instead forming the corners into a weak smile. He made eye contact and Phil watched his pupils slowly dilate.

"Thank you…" Dan thanked him, slightly embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck, "But do you really believe that there's anything that we can do to save everything?"

Phil flicked his gaze to rest on the Goth's house, which was quite close to them and he could see over Dan's shoulder. Bella Goth was leaving the house, dressed in her crimson gown, yet motionless, like a statue, as she strode down the steps from the house's front door.

It wasn't just everything that was set like stone; it was everyone.

"Dan…" Phil sighed, staring back to Dan again, "What can anyone else do? We're the creators: we aren't part of the game, so we're the only things that aren't… frozen. The question isn't whether we can do anything to save everyone, it's whether we're going to try."

Dan bit his tongue. It'd been a while since his friend had said something stirring like that. He remembered back to their early years together when he'd look up to Phil and be inspired by every action and every word he said. As they'd gotten used to each other and settled into their life together, the motivating speeches had more-or-less stopped. This was one of the rare times when one kind-of just escaped. Dan liked these times that brought him back to the 2009 era.

"Now, are you coming?" Phil asked, raising his eyebrows. They were almost back to Potter's Splay, and they weren't about to stop and give up before even investigating the satellite.

"Yeah. I'm coming," Dan assured him with a smile.