THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS!!! Sorry about the cliffhanger, I'm known for those...

Title: Resolution

Genre: Angst/Drama

Rating: PG-13

Summary: (part 2) Something terrible and unthinkable has happened. Kris risks his life to save Adam; will they both make it out okay? And what about Allison? Will the wounds of the fight prove stronger and deeper than any or of their cuts or bruises?

One glance at Christian told Kris that he was dead. The driver's chair had been mangled almost beyond recognition, and crushed under debris that had fallen in the chaos.

Resisting the urge to gag at the sight of his cold, lifeless stare, Kris looked away and steeled himself, coughing. His eyes stung at the smoke that had filled the driver's cabin. He only took a moment to consider it, but it looked like some sort of failing of the brakes had let the bus sideswipe the tunnel and skid into its opposite wall.

A small crackling noise revealed to Kris that the dashboard and the control instrument panel were ablaze. The angry, pop-hiss of the flames filled his ears and he gasped for breath, trying to maneuver through the mess, searching.

A dark blue hoodie. Darkness silhouetted against the flames. Kris stumbled toward it, his heart suddenly seized with a chill unlike any he'd ever felt.

There was a large piece of metal, a section of the bus roof, which had fallen onto the dashboard, destroying the circuitry and igniting the fire.

The sparkle of a silver ring, a head of shock-black hair...

He was there. Kris instantly tried to gather a large amount of his remaining strength and recklessly let it carry him as quickly as possible through the dilapidated interior. It hit him suddenly that Adam's body, the part that was visible to him, was not only also very limp and slack, spread flaccidly under a sizable piece of debris, but it was also surrounded by the main source of the black, dense smoke - flames.

One arm was silently stretched toward him, palm up, fingers spread. For a moment, Kris couldn't breathe, and in that instant, a warm terror filled him. He abruptly felt Adam's presence, his desperation and his need through the fading remnants of their old bond. A bond he had thought only minutes ago was shattered and broken beyond repair.

He reacted before he even had time to think, dropping to his knees and flinging out a hand toward Adam's, and the other closing around the large chunk of steel that had pinned him. Heaving a trembling breath into smoke-filled lungs, Kris started to drag the heavy trapping away, even as searing white-hot pain numbed his fingertips.

It was hot to the touch. He stubbornly clung to it anyway, grunting in exertion as he managed to move it halfway, revealing Adam's torso. He had thought it was over, thought he was about to walk away from his friend forever and leave him...

I was wrong. Kris thought, blindly pushing against the heated metal, struggling to free Adam's legs. Wrong about so many things. Wrong about Katy. Wrong about him, I couldn't let him go.

With that one wordless plea for help, that hand reaching his direction, everything changed, and he was Adam again, Kris' best friend, his former roommate, his brother, even... and he couldn't let him down.

His fingers slipped clumsily and he cursed, the heat escalating in the cabin. Wincing, he pushed it again, allowing his fear and adrenaline to lend his small body the necessary strength to remove the panel completely.

Then, Adam's legs were in view, one boot twisted painfully in a way Kris doubted was natural. One last shove sent the piece of debris clanging to the floor, and Kris felt the burns on his fingers throbbing.

His eyes widened as he sensed a sudden rise in temperature, and cursed loudly as flames kindled to life on Adam's shirt. A weak cry escaped his slack mouth, and it startled Kris into action. He leaned over quickly, painstakingly wrapping an arm around him, lifting him away from the burning fire, and rolling him over, cushioning his body above the deadly heat and dousing the devouring flames with its pressure.

He didn't know where he found the strength after a fight like the one they'd just fought, or after seeing Allison's prone form in the other room. His mind was torn between recollections of the good times he had shared with the man lying before him and new, raw memories of darkness. He just couldn't let anything happen to him, and he felt overwhelmingly guilty underneath the paralyzed shock that gripped him.

Kris felt Adam losing consciousness even as he struggled to pull him away from the wreckage. Kris' quick thinking— and what he would have described as pure luck—had kept him from being too badly hurt, for by some miracle his sleeve had slipped into the stirring flame first and he had avoided it catching on any other parts of his clothing, but the pain had proven too much, even for him.

Kris could almost distinctly feel Adam fading into the black darkness that heralded unconsciousness, in the same uncanny way he had once been able to tell what Adam was thinking without having to say a word. The connection they'd forged was pulsing weakly, but still there. He allowed himself to feel a twinge of relief that the fire that had singed the back of Adam's sweatshirt had died out, and his body nearly slipped from Kris' tender hold in his moment of abstraction, sending a cascade of glass and steel shards sliding into smoky abyss.

He cursed himself as he tightened his grip again, catching him barely an inch from rolling onto the surface of the fiery hot metal. Adam, helpless, flopped limply into his arms. Seeing him like this— Adam Lambert: the fierce, bold, energetic and strong performer everyone knew him as—was nearly as frightening as the gripping horror of the whole situation.

The flames popped and exploded around Kris, as if reaching out to him, trying to suck him down into the depths of the black, misty cloud, to reclaim Adam as the prey Kris had seized away. Kris tried as hard as he could, but it seemed to take a millennia before he was able to shift Adam's weight enough for him stand a bit on shaky legs, half-lifting his friend's large frame along with him. He slipped on the crumbling floor he'd knelt on just as he had managed to settle Adam as best as he could into his arms, and he sucked in a breath in his alarm. He caught himself just in time, steadying his quaking leg muscles and taking a few strides away from the heated, coiling mass of metal that the dashboard had suddenly become. He looked anxiously down at Adam.

Fuck, he was a mess, on fire with heat, burning in his arms—and guilt began to blossom within Kris again. He couldn't keep the pain from twisting like a dagger in his heart, as he thought of the harsh words and heavy silences the two had exchanged recently.

Kris tried to be gentle as he took a few cautious steps toward the safest exit. He eased Adam into his hold and stumbled through the fog, but he was burned in the only places Kris could utilize to attempt to carry him.

He realized with a pang that he had no choice but to hurt him with his touch. Groaning, he staggered beneath his weight and Adam moaned as his grip tightened on his raw skin, struggling fitfully yet weakly against Kris' restraining arms.

Kris knew the pain was telling Adam that he was his enemy even now as he tried to help him, but he honestly didn't know what else he could do. Reaching out and leaning his chin toward Adam's ear, he tried to soothe his friend as a desperate, instinctive gesture; one he had no real hope would actually have an effect. A wave of disjointed, calming sentences poured from his mouth, and he mentally sighed, feeling the fruitlessness of his efforts hit him.

But somehow, miraculously, it worked. Adam sighed softly, the lines of pain and confusion that had twisted his face smoothed out, and his tense body relaxed as he accepted Kris' hold and braced against the pain. He didn't fight as his friend settled his pale face against his shoulder, the tips of some of Adam's dark locks singed and twisted as hey pillowed against Kris.

Oh, Adam— fuck, how could this have happened?!! Kris' shock started to catch up with him. How could I have turned my back on you, and... how could this have happened to you?

His thoughts were numb and jumbled, and he took another lurching step toward the door. Kris was afraid to touch his shoulders or upper back, for the skin there nearly bubbled with heat, radiating it beneath his hands, but he knew he had to get Adam out of there, and quickly.

It was then that logical thoughts started churning in his mind, rapid and panicked. How in the world am I going to carry him? Even docile and relaxed, Adam was by no means easy to carry - he was certainly not lanky or stringy in build and Kris lacked the athletic strength to cradle him like a child in his arms, as would be ideal.

He curled one hand around the nape of Adam's neck, resting his head firmly against his chest and preparing to shift his overheated body so he could half-lift, half-drag him to safety. Kris was completely unprepared, however, for his quiet whimper, and the turning of his head into the hollow of his shoulder.

He gasped quietly as he heaved another step, and Adam's hand, the one that had reached desperately toward him minutes earlier, clenched in the rough, singed cloth of his shirt. His other arm dangled uselessly at his side, the fabric melted into a twisted hunk of misshapen remnants by the flames.

Kris was even more unprepared for Adam's soft, delirious moan of "Kris..." as he turned his face inwards, or for the sound of his voice, cracked and deepened by the searing of his throat and lungs by the fire-heated air. It wavered and broke as he struggled to speak. "Kris... Allison—please—"

"I got her, Adam..." Tears pooled in Kris' eyes as he continued on, motivated even more. "We got her."

An exhale of shaky breath that Kris could only guess was his attempt to sigh in relief burst from Adam's lips. And then he was completely unconscious in his arms, head lolling lifelessly downward, leaving Kris to steady him with all the strength he could muster and marvel at the profound, utterly exhausted alleviation that danced on every nerve in his body as he emerged from the wreckage onto the wet, dusky stretch of road, surrounded by a crowd of familiar, worried faces.

He shook off the weary, battered fatigue that tugged at his mind and gently sat on the asphalt, not relinquishing his hold on the best friend he'd ever had.

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It felt as if the ambulances would never come, as if hours, instead of mere minutes had gone by. Kris couldn't seem to get my mind to function, as the girls from the other bus, rattled by the plight of the guys' bus, gathered in frightened vigil around Allison, still cradled, snug in Anoop's arms.

They whispered; shocked and shaken, about how it could've been their bus, and how Allison had been hurt because of her decision to go out to eat after the show and crash on one of the boys' sofas.

Michael Sarver lumbered uneasily over to Kris and handed him his cell phone, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other and trying not to stare too worriedly at Adam, seeing how upset Kris was by the tears streaming down his sooty face. "I just... well, I, um... thought you'd want to call your wife. I just called my family, and the others have too... There's helicopters, and the sirens are coming this way... I'm sure it's all over the news."

"She's probably worried." He agreed solemnly, voice low. He accepted the phone, and Sarver, with one last concerned glance, trudged away, unable to look at Adam anymore. Kris soon found that he couldn't induce his fingers to input the correct numbers to reach Katy. For a brief instant, he wasn't even certain what the correct numbers were. His head throbbed and his slightly burnt fingertips slowly punched in each digit as he willed himself to think straight.

".... hello?" her uncertain greeting rang in his ears.

"Katy," He murmured wearily, not knowing what to say to her next.

He paused, and listened to her gasp and begin crying, gasping sobs that hiccupped in her voice. "... oh, Kris... I-I was so... are you okay? I was watching the news to see the weather report and t-t-this story came on..."

"I'm fine, Katy. It's okay, I'm okay." He managed to assure her. "Help is coming... I can hear the sirens, so it's okay. I knew you'd be worried, so I called. But, I'm fine."

She responded, and at length, but Kris didn't hear her beyond the relieved, joyous gasp of "Oh, thank God!" His thoughts and gaze were focused on the injured man he still held in his arms.

"Honey?" Katy was asking. "Is everyone else okay? ... Kris, can you hear me?"

"Yes, I'm here." He searched his muddled brain for some way to describe the situation. Nothing in his vocabulary seemed adequate. "I—I... Allison's hurt, we don't know how badly . . . and so is Adam. There's a few others with... you know, bruises and scrapes and minor stuff... but there's a hospital not too far. We're on the outskirts of the capital, so I'm sure we'll be headed there. It's not like, a grade-A medical facility like in LA or anything... this place it's small, out of the way—remote enough... we'll be fine." Kris cut himself off as he realized he was rambling nervously.

"I'll meet you there," Katy assured him. He wanted to tell her that he was fine and she needn't fly out here from Arkansas, but he couldn't find the heart to admonish her for worrying about him. "You said Allison and —um... —and Adam?"

"I did." Kris replied, and Katy let out a small coo of concern. "Katy - I have to go now... the sirens are getting closer." He winced at the lie, but he felt too exhausted to talk to her, to anyone. "Don't worry yourself sick over this - I'm fine, everything..." He paused, glancing down. "Everything's going to be okay."

"I know it will. I was just... I was so scared for you, baby." She murmured lovingly. "I will see you as soon as I can. I love you." The call ended with a crackle of static, and he leaned back against the outer wall of the tunnel wearily, feeling a crushing burden of responsibility settle onto his shoulders, and into his stomach.

He barely heard the gentle murmur of the assorted crowd surrounding the crash site or the whirr of the news helicopters overhead. Suddenly Kris felt a thousand years old and more tired than he had ever been in his life. He let his eyes slide closed, just for a moment.

"Are you all right, Kris?" Matt Giraud's concerned voice cut into Kris' fogged mind like a blade on steel. "You certainly don't seem okay."

He opened his eyes and pushed himself to sit up completely straight. "I'm not the one you should be worried about," He countered, then turned his gaze upon Adam. Matt followed his eyes, wincing.

"Did you want to go see Allie? She's not awake or anything," He mumbled quietly. "But I thought you might want to. I'll take care of him if you want to... for a minute."

He did want to, but he hated the idea of letting Adam go again. With a sigh, he focused on his pang of worry for the girl and nodded at Matt, who knelt down and allowed Kris to carefully deposit Adam's body into his bigger, stronger arms.

Kris sighed and turned away from his friend's limp form, crossing the small space to where Anoop held Allison. He just stood there for a moment, staring down at her unconscious form, and felt a wave of sickening, dizzying fear and guilt wash over him. What would have happened if Adam and I hadn't fought? Would she have been all right? And Adam? Would they have been up there in that hatch?

He had failed him. Failed her. As a friend, as a brother, as...— the thoughts gushed through his overwhelmed senses and tears started to run again in tiny rivulets down his black-coated cheeks.

Her eyes fluttered open suddenly and focused slowly on Kris. Anoop shifted his weight in surprise and smiled down at her, and Megan and Lil, also standing nearby, gasped. "Kris..." she whispered. "Kris, is—is Adam all right?"

Kris didn't know how to answer. He knelt down and touched her ashen cheek, the one that wasn't gauzed with a sloppy, temporary bandage, with the back of his hand and struggled to find the words, for she deserved an honest explanation. "I—" He began, and couldn't finish the sentence. "I . . . brought him out, Allie, but—I don't know. I just—don't know."

"He's . . . here?" she asked, and her face changed infinitesimally, some tiny spark of light came back into her eyes. "Adam's here?" She turned her head and glanced around at all of the faces peering down at her. Looking for him. Kris thought his heart would break into a million little pieces as the light died in her eyes as quickly as it had appeared.

"Where, Kris? Where—where is he?" She asked, confused and tired.

Kris cursed the slow passage of time and their solemn wait for medical assistance, leaning in closer and putting both of his hands on her shoulders to soothe her. "Easy, Allie. He is . . . resting. Over there with Matt. But . . . he is . . . not well. I—" He just couldn't finish, couldn't find the words, and so he let the sentence trail off pathetically and stood up, his head bowed.

She laid one hand over Anoop's on her shoulder, sighing. "He saved me," she said softly. "He's gotta be okay... he p-pushed me out of there just before the roof fell... right when the... f-fire started." Her eyes closed. "He has to be okay... has to.'"

He could tell when she eased into a weak sleep and Anoop disengaged his hand from hers as gently as he could, not wanting to disturb her again. Still, he couldn't keep himself from sighing in worry, and several of the others not gathered around Adam echoed the sentiment. Then Anoop looked up at Kris, and there was hope and light in warm brown of his eyes, and that was something Kris sorely needed at that moment.

Kris leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against her forehead, praying the light touch wouldn't wake her but needing to make the gesture, if only for his own sake. He closed his eyes for one second more, and then straightened up, turning away. She seemed as if she would be all right until the help arrived, and he needed to go back to Adam.

Matt frowned uncertainly at him from where he waited; Adam's head leaned into the crook of his arm. "Thanks," Kris said, and Matt warbled out an acknowledgement, eyes on the lifeless form he held.

"We have to do something. I know time's not on our side, Kris... help is coming… but…"

Kris took a deep breath and knelt down to their level, placing a hand against Adam's cheek. He lay sideways in Matt's embrace, pretty much as he had left him. He slowly let his eyes rove over Adam's body, cringing.

He hadn't dared to peel charred cloth away from his back after carrying him out— he didn't know anything about treating burns like this, after all—but they could see his blistered skin, tortured by unnatural heat. There were several tiny patches on his shoulder where the fabric had burned away completely. He knew that if they weren't careful, they'd do more harm than good if they tried to help - but it felt like they needed to do something, or they'd risk losing him.

The rasping sound of his breathing, hoarse and labored, worried Kris, for it sounded as if he was struggling merely to inhale and exhale. His injured arm dangled off to the side, burnt sleeve gruesomely eaten out of shape, something else he hadn't dared do anything about, but Adam's good arm was pressed against Matt's, his fingers curled into a fist against the cloth. He seemed to be resting, as Kris had told Allison, but it certainly wasn't the healing, restful slumber those words implied.

In unconsciousness, his face was still twisted in a mask of distress, his brow creased with pain. Kris sat down beside Matt and laid his fingers against Adam's forehead. His skin still felt hot beneath his hand, as if carrying him away from the writhing, flame-engulfed bus had done little to quell the fire inside him. He moaned slightly as he touched him, his mouth tightening with lines of pain, and he tossed his head slightly against Matt's elbow.

Kris winced. Matt was right, they couldn't just leave him there like that. The burns on his back could dehydrate him, and might eventually fester in infection if they didn't do something before the paramedics came. Matt closed his eyes and reached out, wrapping an arm around him and shifting him so it might be easier for Kris to examine the worst of it. He took a deep breath and steadied Adam's shoulder with one hand. With the other he reached down and began the process of easing most of the ruined fabric away from his shoulders as best as he could without peeling away the burned skin.

Adam flinched, murmuring a curse word into Matt's arm. Kris looked at Matt briefly, realizing distantly that he'd been with Adam when he'd bought that particular garment. The memory of fun outings with Adam made his eyes blur, and he had to stop in his task for a moment.

The burned, blistered skin on his upper shoulder twisted his stomach up in knots — the knowledge that it was his fault that Adam had gone up there into harm's way, his failure that done this to him made me feel physically ill with irrational reprehension.

He finally pulled the charred remnants that he could away, then got up to retrieve the medpack from the girls' bus, cleaning his hands with disinfectant and reaching for the bandages. There was a tiny tube of burn cream, one Kris hoped would keep Adam stable for the time being.

Nauseous, he began to spread the cream over the worst of the injuries. The muscles in Adam's good arm clenched as he touched him, and his other arm twitched, as if he was trying to lift it, but the melted fabric and burns there made it impossible.

"Easy, Adam," He murmured sadly. "Easy."

A tremor passed through his entire body, and his eyes snapped open. He shook as he gasped for breath, shuddering painfully. His face tightened with pain; and his good hand balled up the fabric of Matt's shirt again. "Allison," he said in a tone hoarse with pain and desperation. His voice faded and broke, and it was almost physically painful to watch his cracked lips form the words, as he stared up at Matt, eyes stormy. "Where . . . where's Allie? Is she . . . all right . . .?"

Something in Kris ached. "She's fine, Adam," He whispered.

At the sound of his voice, Adam's eyes darted to fall on Kris. A twinge of hot, yellow fury blazed on his face, and Kris felt his heart shatter. "You," he snarled. His rage was weak, but Kris felt it exponentially, like a haze that shimmered in the air around him. A long torrent pained mumbling that neither Matt nor Kris could decipher followed, and Kris could barely breathe.

"Adam, I'm not trying to hurt you," Kris said desperately, pushing past the sickening sadness that had overwhelmed him and managing to quickly press bandages onto his shoulder and upper back over the cream, a temporary fix.

His face twisted into a horrible mask of his usual features, and he didn't respond to Kris, just looked at him with hollow, pained eyes.

Overcome, he pulled himself to a straighter position beside Matt and passed a hand over his eyes in an effort to clear his vision of tears. Adam was crumpled helplessly in Matt's hold, his breath sobbing painfully in his lungs. His head turned away from Kris when the latter laid a comforting hand on his good arm, and they could see tears streaking his cheeks, as his face flashed with hurt like the fiery chaos they had just left come to life in his eyes.

"Get . . . away . . . from me!" he gasped quietly, more of a plea than an order.

"Adam..." Kris tried, feeling as if his heart had been torn out of his chest all over again. Matt looked up at him, sympathetic and scared.

"Y-you don't care about me..." Matt's arms tightened protectively around him. One more word seemed like it would be enough to break him in two, but he continued, breathlessly. "You never cared a-a-about... me..."

Does he really think that? Or is he only delirious from the pain? Kris wondered numbly, biting his lip. "I'm . . . sorry, Adam." It was all he could manage say. "I do care about you. A lot."

"Just . . . go . . . !" he repeated, voice tightening and deepening into a low whisper. His chest rippled dangerously as his breath faltered, and Matt shot Kris a wide-eyed look.

Without a word, he obeyed, no longer seeing any point in staying when Adam was causing himself even more pain at his presence. He staggered helplessly over to the others, leaning into Megan's arms. He covered his face with one hand and realized belatedly that he was shaking.

Even if Adam was healed completely, there were other wounds that would be harder to fix. The knowledge of this tore Kris' soul asunder and he winced, tears spilling out of the corners of his eyes.

Blankly, he dizzily followed the others when several wailing ambulances finally pulled up a few moments later.

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So....?