Seriously, I have no excuse. *shies away from rotton fruits/veggies* Buuut this fic is almost finished! Seriousl, I have nothing but the epilogue and the alternate ending! Also- Good People won the poll! The first chapter should be up tonight or tomorrow, so keep a lookout!

Enjoy!

...

"You sound terrible," Logan croaked hoarsely at James as his friend erupted into a fit of coughing.

"Like you're… one to talk," James retorted after he got it under control, adjusting the facemask over his mouth.

Logan sucked on an ice chip from the cup the nurse had given him and said, "I have an excuse."

"Well, so do I."

It was so weird watching Logan smirk and suck on his ice chips, as if he weren't comatose half an hour earlier with a tube down his throat helping him breathe. The color started to come back to his cheeks and his eyes were bright and alert, albeit tired looking.

James and Camille had been kicked out the moment the doctors got the message that he was awake. They spent a good fifteen minutes waiting for the doctors to get through taking the tube out and checking over Logan, seeing if he had any brain damage or lasting effects of the coma. When the doctor came out again, he shook his head at James.

"One of those miracle cases," he told him. "You guys are very lucky."

James finally did feel lucky—lucky that his best friend was alive and safe and going to get better. Two down, one to go.

"James."

"Huh?" James snapped out of his thoughts to find Logan staring at him, looking concerned.

"You alright?" Logan shook his head. "Other than the pneumonia, I mean."

"Fine," James said, although it was beginning to sound like an automatic response. He looked down, averting Logan's skeptical look as he fidgeted with the arms of his wheelchair. "Maybe not."

"What's wrong?" Logan prodded. He sat up, suddenly alarmed. "Is Carlos—?"

"He's fine," James assured him. "Just a dislocated shoulder, and a concussion."

"Kendall?"

James hesitated on that one. In the end he settled for, "I don't know," which was true, more or less. Logan seemed to sense that something else was up, but he didn't push it. He probably didn't want to know.

Logan sighed and closed his eyes slightly, only to start back and snap the open again.

"Are you alright?" James wanted to know. "I mean, you were in a coma…"

"I know," Logan said. "How cool is it that I can say I survived being comatose?"

James knew he was trying to change the subject, and he let him, chuckling. "I bet that's more than most doctors can say."

"You bet." Logan rubbed his arm where the needle pricked his skin. "Do the others know I'm awake? What about my parents?"

James shrugged. "No clue, dude. I know the airlines are beyond swamped with people both trying to get out of California and trying to get in. So far only Carlos' family made it to the hospital. My mom's driving," he offered, which made Logan smile because he knew how much James' mother hated doing anything by herself—especially driving.

Logan was quiet for a second. "What about everyone else at the Palm Woods?" he asked finally. "Camille? Tyler, Lucy, Mr. Bitters? The Jennifers?"

James sighed, which made his breath catch suddenly and spurred him into another coughing fit. Shaking his head once it was over, he said, "I think you and Kendall got the worst of it. One of the Jennifers was trapped behind a vending machine, but she wasn't injured. Mr. Bitters was out by the pool, Tyler was in the Palm Woods park running from his mother. I don't know where Lucy is, but as far as I know, everyone's fine."

Other than the fact that their home was destroyed. James decided not to tell Logan that.

Logan, though, had other things on his mind. He leaned forward intently. "Me and Kendall?"

When James didn't answer, Logan slammed his palms against the white sheets of his hospital bed. "Damn it, James, will you stop skirting around the bush? Kendall's my best friend too! What happened?"

"I don't know, okay?" James snapped. He blew out a frustrated breath, knowing he wasn't angry at Logan. "No one will tell me anything, but you already know how bad that is. They said he was trapped under a piece of ceiling, and—"

Logan sucked in air, interrupting him. "Kendall's a crush victim?"

James didn't know what that meant, but he didn't like the way Logan said it. "Why?" he demanded. "What's a crush victim?"

"A crush victim," Logan said, taking a deep breath, "is someone put into a situation when something heavy traps them, physically. It causes severe muscle damage, lacerations, infections… there's a high mortality rate with crush victims."

James didn't exactly want to hear more, but Logan went on as if on autopilot. "The tricky part about being crushed is the thing crushing you is the only thing keeping you from bleeding out. It cuts off the blood flow. But sometimes people die the minute they're set free, because they bleed out too fast, or they have other complications. Some victims develop anemia, and some victims die weeks after they are released from the hospital due to other things that weren't present when they were rescued."

He finally brought his gaze up to meet James'. "Kendall is a crush victim."

James wasn't interested in that. "How many people survive?"

"I'm not sure," Logan admitted. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against his pillo0w. "I try to stay away from hopeless cases."

"It's not hopeless," James said. "There has to be a way, okay? Kendall will be fine."

He only hoped that were true.

A soft knock on the door drew their attention to Nurse Debbie standing in the hallway. She gave James and Logan a smile. "Camille's turn," she said.

James gave Logan a knowing look. "Just so you know, nothing went on between us when we were trapped in that pool."

"I know." And the way Logan said it—with complete and utter faith—made James smile and hold off the coughing fit just long enough for him to roll out the door and trade places with Camille.

Camille stopped him for a second, one hand on his arm. "Thank you for that," she said.

"No problem." James looked off down the hallway, spotting Carlos as he made his way towards him. "I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

Camille nodded, and James gripped the wheels of his wheelchair, not ready to face the stricken look on the Latino's face.

…

Logan looked up as Camille rolled herself into the room, stopped next to his bed, and folded her hands in her lap. She removed her mask and gazed up at him with large brown eyes, raking her gaze over his face like she'd never seen it before.

He didn't know what to say, so they sat in silence for a few minutes. Logan took the time to look over Camille. She didn't cough as much as James did, but her face was just as pale and her eyes told him she was beyond exhausted. She alternated between playing with the hem of the sheets on his bed and chewing her nails—a bad habit he told her to stop many times over. She'd never listened. Camille did what she wanted to, no matter what anyone said.

Unfortunately, Logan didn't possess the same ability. He'd always envied her because of that. It was one of the things that made her so free—she was absolutely fearless when it came to being herself.

That was why it was so unnerving, seeing her so nervous, on the verge of tears, at a loss for words. It just wasn't right.

Which then made Logan realize that he needed to talk first. It was the right thing to do, wasn't it? She didn't look like she could do it. And as much as Logan hated to admit it, she was still as beautiful as ever, sending spurts of fire through his gut every time her saw her flick her long eyelashes towards him, checking over his progress as if he were nothing but an illusion.

Logan's fingers twitched until he lifted his hand slightly and placed it on Camille's. She tensed only slightly and looked up at him, finally locking gazes with him.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey." She bit her lip. "Are you…"

"I'm fine," he assured her. "What about you? I heard this is your first time getting pneumonia."

The laugh she barked out sounded grating and painful. "I heard Carlos is the only one of us who hasn't now."

"Yeah, well." Logan moved his hand from her fingers to her face, cupping her cheek. "I was so scared I was never going to see you again," he said.

"Me too." Camille's eyes glistened. "When I heard you were in a coma, I thought…"

"I know," Logan sighed. "I was lucky. No lasting brain damage, no traces of the concussion I had, nothing."

Camille smiled. "A miracle."

Logan nodded and rubbed her cheek with his thumb, wiping the stray tear before it could reach her chin. "You're beautiful, you know that?"

She didn't say anything for a second. "You know," she said finally, "when I was trapped in that tiny little space in the pool… the only thing I could think of was getting out to find you." She looked down at her hands. "Even with James there, I just kept wishing… that you were the one trapped with me. And I know that sounds bad, but it really made me think."

Camille flashed him another one of her thousand watt smiles. "And it's funny how much you realize you love someone when you're in a life or death situation."

Ain't that true, Logan thought. And then he registered the rest of the sentence and looked down at her in surprise.

She smiled at him again. "You heard right. I love you, Logan. Always have."

A million thoughts shot through his head—the risks of saying it back, the pros and cons to having Camille as a girlfriend, what his friends and family would say, what the world would say… But he looked at Camille and her soft brown eyes and the words slipped out. "I love you, too."

And when she rested her head on his lap in the bed, he realized just how true that statement was.

…

"He's awake," James said again. "Carlos? Logan's awake."

He leaned over to his friend and tried to put a hand on Carlos' shoulder. The Latino had crumpled to his knees, his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. But when he finally lifted his head to look at James, a smile lit his face.

"That's it, then," he exclaimed. "Logan's awake. Kendall made it out of his surgery—"

"He did?" James' heart leapt into his throat. "Kendall's okay?"

Carlos scrubbed his eyes with his free arm as tears spilled over, nodding. "He got out ten minutes ago. God, when I saw you coming out of Logan's room…"

"They're fine." James leaned back into his wheelchair and sighed in disbelief. "We're… okay."

"No sign of infection," Carlos agreed. He ducked his head and whispered a prayer of thanks under his breath before standing again. "Come on. I want to see Logan."

"Camille's in there now," James told him.

Carlos raised an eyebrow at him, walking towards the room. The door was closed, and through the narrow window he could see Logan running his hands gently through Camille's hair as she rested her head in his lap. She was half leaning out of her wheelchair and her mask was off, but she didn't seem to care. Logan looked up at Carlos, giving him a faint, relieved smile.

James rolled up beside him and smirked as they watched Logan lean forward and kiss Camille on her head. "Guess this means they're back together."

"That we're all back together," Carlos said quietly. He looked down at James and a smile tugged at his lips—the barest hint that he was still there, the old Carlos they knew and loved. "Come on. We should go see Kendall."

"I'm all for that."

And with that, the two buddies left Logan and Camille alone and walked down the hallway, hearts swelling with the assurance that everything was going to be okay.