Sooo… It's been 84 years. What can I say? I suck at posting regularly. I'm so sorry that I kept you waiting for so long. I started writing this ages ago and then I finished college and got a job and then, well... let's just say life happened and leave it at that. I tried my best to finish it in February, so that I could post it before the third season came out, but then I unexpectedly ruined my 'I somehow haven't had Covid yet' streak the day before it came out and now here we are. I'm sorry. Again.

I hope the chapter somehow makes up for the looong wait. At least a little bit. Without further ado, let's get into it.

Blending in With the Tortoises

John B jolts awake, heart pounding as if he'd just accidentally stepped off the edge of the world.

He is fully convinced that he had just woken up from another one of his nightmares, that seem to be on schedule pretty much every time he falls asleep nowadays. (Or at least whenever his dad is on another one of his regular 'forgot to tell you, but I'm going on a treasure hunt' work trips.)

And then something crashes in the kitchen.

His heart leaps out of his chest for a moment because, let's be honest, nobody and I mean nobody wants to hear something crash in the kitchen whenever they're supposedly home alone.

"What the hell?" he whispers to himself, carefully peeking one of his tired eyes out of the comfort and warmth of his worn-out blanket. Not that he can actually see anything, because it's pitch black in his room. 'Thank you, storm.'

His dad has only been gone for what? Like two weeks? Give or take. So, the likelihood of the crash having something to do with his arrival is zero out of ten. Maybe one, if he's lucky. An unwanted visitor though (and we're not talking about raccoons) is much more likely. Especially on the Cut.

Another glass goes crashing.

"Damn it" John B curses under his breath. 'Does it have to be tonight? Can't it be tomorrow or next week or something?' He was just at that perfect stage of warmth when you morph into one with your blanket as if it suddenly understood exactly how warm it needs to be. You know what I mean? When the world inside of the blanket is truly perfect and you'd rather pee yourself than go to the bathroom? And then you end up tossing and turning, because you can't actually fall back asleep, since the only thing on your mind is how much you need to pee, but you still refuse to get out of bed. That feeling. You can't tell me you don't go through this same exact trial and error method every single time as well. Eventually you have to cave, but John B doesn't want to cave. He's been so tired lately. He's honestly tempted to just try to fall back asleep even if he might currently be in the process of getting robbed or worse.

But then a thud echoes through the house that his brain simply can't find a reasonable explanation for. So, naturally, it piques his curiosity a little too much. What a shame for his beauty sleep.

He groans as he slides out of the bed unceremoniously – you know, sort of like a pile of jello that leaks over the edge of the bed more and more, until it finally flops on the floor. One of his hands ends up trying to rub some of the sleepiness off his face, while the other one extends to make sure he doesn't crash into a wall headfirst.

Life has other plans though, so his feet get tangled up in either a discarded blanket or a shirt of some sort and he nearly falls on his face, stumbling across the mess he only has himself to blame for. So glorious. Perfect for when you're trying to be quiet so as to not let your burglars know you're home (alone).

He continues his tiptoeing adventure a little more carefully and that's when he finally spots the worn-out pair of shoes, scattered in the middle of his bedroom. The other pair of worn-out shoes. The pair that doesn't belong to him.

JJ.

His heart immediately sinks. He whips his head around, hoping that JJ's still lost somewhere in the pile of blankets on the bed, but then he remembers that JJ being the one destroying his kitchen might actually be better than burglars. Certainly better than potential murderers. They can definitely manage to live a full life with one less glass in the cupboard.

'Damn it, JJ. You and your stupid midnight snacks.'

He crosses the rest of the room with a lot more confidence, fairly certain he's not about to be unalived in his immediate future and yet entirely oblivious of the scene awaiting on the other side of the door.

"JJ? What the hell are you rummaging through my kitchen in the dark for?" he says the second he walks out of his room. "I swear you're like a termite. Always hungry. I thought you were a burglar trying to steal our precious mouldy bread."

There's no actual annoyance behind his words. Just some friendly teasing he simply can't resist. And he would bet that JJ has one of his smartass remarks headed his way.

(The remark never comes.)

One of his hands blindly pats the wall for the light switch, while the other one shields his eyes from the blinding light.

The sight he's met with immediately makes him wish someone was in fact stealing the bread. (But hey, at least they still have power.)

JJ is slumped on the floor with his back against the fridge, looking everything but fine. His eyes are screwed shut and his whole body is screaming 'something's wrong'. He seems to be stuck in a cycle of coughing and choking, one of his hands desperately grabbing at his heaving chest in order to ease the pain. His other hand is still holding on to a shattered glass from the 'mismatched set' they've collected over the years.

"JJ? What's wrong?!" John B asks frantically, flying across the kitchen and sliding onto his knees right in front of JJ. A piece of broken glass pierces his knee, but he doesn't even notice.

JJ's in trouble.

It's only now that the events from last night come rushing back. Surfing the surge, JJ disappearing among the waves, John B looking for him helplessly, miraculously finding him, dragging both of them back to the shore and then all the way back to the Chateau. The dread he felt before finally falling asleep, because JJ nearly drowned.

John B realises that JJ is looking straight at him now. His huge eyes pleading him to help. To make things better. He's scared. And if you know JJ, you know that that never happens. Well, almost never.

Alarm bells are going off in John B's head and chest, making it nearly impossible to think, but he has to keep it together. JJ's depending on him.

"It's okay, JJ. It's okay" he whispers just as JJ's hand forgets all about trying to ease the pain in his chest and chooses to grab whatever part of John B's closest instead. John B lets him.

A particularly loud round of thunder echoes through the Chateau, making JJ flinch and close his eyes again.

"Bro, is this a panic attack or-" John B suggests, praying that's what it is, because then at least he'd know what to do. But JJ is already shaking his head no frantically, trying his best to communicate that this is something else.

"Can't- breathe."

'Clearly' John B thinks to himself. "Okay, okay, I got you. What do you need?" He's getting desperate. He knows how to deal with physical injuries. He knows how to take care of cuts and bruises, he knows how to give diy-stitches, he knows how to check for broken bones and how to keep an eye on a concussion. He and JJ are also highly experienced in nursing each other back to health whenever one of them gets sick. (And then they immediately switch places, because the other one inevitably catches the bug as well. Every single time.) He also knows approximately when he should draw the line and drag JJ to a hospital, but we all know that line can get pushed back a little (or a lot) and things still work out just fine. I mean, they're both alive, so…

Right now though, John B has a sickening feeling that this is something they can't fix on their own. "Jay… Does this warrant a trip to the hospital?" JJ stays quiet which is saying enough: probably. "Do you want me to take you, JJ?"

JJ seems to contemplate it for a split second, which only makes John B even more worried. "No." Gasp. "Not yet." Another gasp.

John B knows better than to pick a fight about it. At least he said yet – not that that's a good thing, because it only goes to show how bad their current predicament is. He has never, ever witnessed JJ actually consider a trip to the hospital. Even unconscious he would probably fight him on it if he could. Not that John B blames him. He knows going to the hospital would get JJ in trouble with Luke, which neither of them want. (Plus they would have a hard time explaining to the doctors where those days-old bruises on JJ's chest came from.)

No. They need to figure this out on their own.

"Okay. I'll think of something, I promise."

"I know." Gasp. "Always do."

Hearing that is not nearly as reassuring as one might think. It only digs the we've-been-in-life-threatening-situations-and-solved-them-on-our-own-one-too-many-times knife a little deeper. As convenient as it is to be ignored and neglected, John B suspects that having caring parents would really come in handy at a time like this.

There's no time for that though. Self pity isn't gonna make JJ feel any better.

"What the hell were you trying to do anyway?" John B asks, wondering why JJ ended up in the kitchen in the first place. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You're tired. Need to sleep."

John B glares at him in disbelief.

"And you thought sleep was more important than the fact that you can't breathe right? Are you an idiot?! Waking up in the morning only to find you dead in my kitchen wouldn't be very good for the future of my sleep, you know?"

Of course JJ would put him first, because he literally has no limit (or at least not a reasonable one) when it comes to being independent and taking care of himself all on his own - especially when he shouldn't. The only reason he comes to John B for help is the fact that he sort of accidentally let him in on his family secret when they were younger. Otherwise he'd have no one.

"Though I just needed water."

John B closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. They're gonna have a serious conversation about this once he's not gasping for air under the kitchen sink. He gently reaches over JJ's outstretched legs and carefully peels his fingers away from the pieces of broken glass he's still holding.

"Well, at least your first instinct wasn't beer. That's progress" John B teases, trying to lighten the mood, while he casually makes sure JJ didn't cut himself on the broken glass.

JJ chuckles, which only makes him cough more. He's still gripping John B's sleeve, so John B has to do some crazy manoeuvre and turn into Mrs. Incredible in order to reach another glass and pour JJ some water.

"Here, see if this helps" he says, holding a glass to JJ's lips, because he quite frankly doesn't think JJ should be trusted with breakable sharp objects right now.

Newsflash - it doesn't help.

"Sorry, bud. I think this cough is past the water faze."

JJ gives him the side eye that definitely stands for 'You think?' .

John B frowns, waiting for a solution to hit him, but he's got nothing.

"How much does it hurt?" he asks when JJ winces so hard his whole body jerks.

"About 6 kicks. Two broken ribs on both sides. Give or take.

JJ's clearly trying to lighten the mood, but the joke falls flat. The fact that he can compare different extents of chest injuries makes John B want to vomit.

"You didn't hurt your ribs when you fell, did you?" John B wonders, reaching forward to run his hands down JJ's side to see if anything's shifting.

"No. It's different. Lungs hurt. All over."

"Okay, just try to relax and take deeper breaths. Maybe-"

Whatever John B was about to say vanishes the second JJ starts coughing again. John B helps him sit up a little against the cupboards, hoping that'll help, but it doesn't seem to make a difference.

His mind keeps going places he really doesn't wanna go.

"JJ, I don't know what to do. You're literally coughing up a lung in the middle of my kitchen" he says desperately while looking around the kitchen, trying to locate either one of their phones, so he can at least look up what this might be.

He sees JJ's mouth move as if he's trying to say something, but he can't seem to catch a breath in between coughs. It's like a vicious cycle of coughing, followed by a raspy gasp, which only makes him cough more.

He's getting worse and they both know it.

"Okay, that's it. We're going to the hospital" John B decides, no longer caring what the consequences might be. They can deal with that later - once JJ isn't actively dying.

"No! Can't- dad- kill me," JJ coughs out in between gasps that are getting more and more frantic.

"JJ, I'll literally beat him up myself if I have to. I'm not letting you choke on my kitchen floor."

"Aw, what the hell?" a rough voice echoes from the doorway.

Both teens whip around in surprise, not having heard the door open. JJ somehow manages to gather enough energy to jump backward and slam his head against one of the cupboards with a loud bang.

"Mr. Heyward?!" John B exclaims in confusion, before turning back to JJ and whispering to him softly. "It's okay, JJ, it's just Pope's dad. Nothing to worry about."

Mr. Heyward rushes forward a little too quickly for JJ's liking, making him curl in on himself even more. Both of John B's hands get tangled somewhere in there as well, because JJ's still holding onto them for dear life.

Heyward, who is blissfully unaware of just how brutally honest JJ's statement was, quickly kneels across from John B, giving JJ a once-over. Apart from being drenched in sweat and clearly out of breath, the kid actually looks like he's planning an escape into the depths of the cupboard behind him. The flight mode doesn't last very long though, because trying to wiggle as far away from Heyward as possible takes a lot of effort and JJ eventually just gives up and lets his arms fall on the floor lifelessly. (He never lets go of John B's hand though. That's his lifeline and he's gonna keep holding on to it for as long as he can.)

John B on the other hand, has absolutely no idea what just happened. Specifically why Pope's dad is at the Chateau at two in the morning.

"Umm… I'm sorry, Mr. Heyward, what are you-" he never gets to finish the thought, because Heyward promptly interrupts him with his own interrogation.

"How long has he been like this?"

"Ahh… I- I don't know. Half an hour maybe? I'm not really sure."

Heyward cringes and gently takes hold of JJ's wrist, pressing his fingers against the pulse point and immediately finding a frantic heartbeat.

"It wasn't this bad when I found him," John B adds, trying his best to provide any information that might be helpful. Saying that he's relieved that an adult - specifically Heyward - showed up at the Chateau at this convenient time would be an understatement of the century. "It only started getting really bad a few minutes ago."

"JJ! Look at me, kid" Heyward says, gently lifting JJ's chin up with his hand and trying to get a good look at his vacant eyes. "You're alright. Try to take some slow breaths."

JJ's eyes keep jumping back and forth between John B and Heyward, but upon an encouraging nod and a hand squeeze from John B, he tries his best to take deeper breaths.

"I know it's hard, kid, but you gotta calm down. Otherwise you're only gonna make it worse" Heyward says, placing a caring hand on JJ's heaving chest. "Come on, take a deep breath" he instructs, automatically taking a deep breath himself and hoping JJ's going to follow suit.

He never quite succeeds, which puts John B on edge again.

"We've already tried that! It didn't work" he snaps at Heyward, unable to control his emotions anymore.

Heyward glares at him, but doesn't actually say anything. He knows both kids are scared. And with good reason. He's no doctor, but he knows lungs and water don't mix very well. His mind is going a hundred miles per hour, trying to find a way to help JJ, but he gets nothing.

John B finally notices JJ's phone peeking out of his pocket, so he tries to make himself useful by looking up what to do, while Heyward guides JJ through some sort of a breathing technique that reminds John B of the one they use when he has a panic attack.

Once again John B thanks the universe that they still have power and reception, because it takes him all of two seconds to find what he was looking for.

"Google says we need to call an ambulance" he announces, already seconds away from dialling 911 for what really shouldn't be the first time in his life.

"I could've told you that much, kid" Mr. Heyward grunts as he drags JJ to his feet effortlessly. "Come on, JJ, we're getting you some help."

"What are you doing?" John B asks, dropping the phone and sliding under JJ's other arm with such grace, that if Heyward didn't know any better, he'd think that these two have been through similar scenarios many, many times. Which they obviously haven't. Right?

"There's a storm. Do you really wanna wait for an ambulance to get here? I can get him to the hospital twice as fast."

John B nods in agreement, figuring Heyward has a good point. Together they manage to get JJ's shoes and jacket on, before dragging him through the muddy puddle that is currently John B's front yard and depositing him in Heyward's truck.

John B immediately jumps in after him and sits in the middle, while Heyward gets in the driver's seat and starts the car.

"Seat belt!"

"Seriously?!" John B asks, eager to just get JJ to the hospital as fast as possible, not really caring about anything else.

"Yes, seriously. I'm about to break all of the traffic laws and I'm not interested in having either one of you flying through the windshield. Now put on the seat belt!"

John B's a little taken aback by the way Heyward's acting (you know, still kind of annoyed with the two of them, but for a very different reason than usual), but he immediately buckles the seat belt around JJ. That leaves him without a seat belt, but that'll have to do for now.

"Okay, here we go," Heyward says as he finally pulls out of the driveway. "Let's hope that none of the roads are closed… In the meantime, try to keep him calm, okay? Can you do that?"

John B nods silently and busies himself by talking to JJ. It's really more of a one-sided conversation, but it doesn't matter. Heyward, on the other hand, keeps his eyes firmly on the road, because the visibility is absolutely horrendous (even by Pogue standards), and, true to his words, proceeds to break every traffic law known to mankind.

The ride is bumpy to say the least and every jolt makes JJ's raspy breathing stop for the longest few seconds until he finally gathers the courage and strength to keep forcing air in and out of his lungs. He keeps nodding off every now and then and eventually ends up splayed halfway across John B, with John B poking him constantly to make sure he doesn't actually pass out.

"How's he doing?" Heyward asks once they finally reach an unflooded road. (Who knew the Cut was this big?!)

"Um… His breathing seems slower, so that's good" John B answers, blissfully unaware of the fact that that might not be a good thing.

"Okay. JJ, you with me?" he checks, much more loudly than when he was talking to John B. It takes a minute, but JJ finally manages to turn his head a little and looks up at Heyward, eyes unfocused and blinking slower than normal. "Good. You're doing good, kid. We're almost there. Just hang in there." One of his hands lets go of the wheel for the first time since they started driving and gently ruffles JJ's hair. Even in his barely-conscious state, JJ still flinches a little at the touch of an adult, but Heyward's too busy looking at the road to notice. "Keep him awake" he whispers to John B once both of his hands are back on the wheel. John B can sense heaviness in his words as if he was expecting the job to be nearly impossible to do.

Suddenly, John B gets a sickening feeling that the fact that JJ is getting more and more drowsy and sleepy, isn't a sign that things are calming down. It's a sign that he's deteriorating. And John B can't have that.

He tenses up and forces JJ to sit up again, hoping that will rouse him enough to stay awake until they reach the hospital, which suddenly feels further away than ever.

"Hey, JJ" he says, shaking him a little until JJ's eyes finally blink open again. He looks as annoyed as John B's ever seen him, but annoyed is much better than unconscious. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You're tired and you wanna sleep, but I'm bored, so you gotta keep me company, okay?" JJ rolls his eyes, but keeps blinking nevertheless. John B doesn't know whether JJ's aware of the fact that this is his ridiculous attempt at keeping him awake or not, but as long as it works, he doesn't care.

He keeps talking about anything and everything, trying to be as entertaining as possible, but the shoulder shaking and poking has to get more and more violent every time that JJ's eyes slip closed for more than a few seconds.

John B can feel Heyward glancing at them in concern, so he keeps trying. He can tell that JJ's trying his best too, but even with their combined effort, he inevitably loses the fight with consciousness and goes limp.

John B's heart sinks.

"Mr. Heyward" he whispers quietly, but the absolute terror in his voice is loud and clear.

Mr. Heyward immediately whips his head around with light speed (seriously, John B actually half expects it to unscrew itself and fall off), although part of him already knows what he's about to see.

JJ's head is lolled to the side, hands no longer clutching whatever part of John B they had latched themselves on, and no matter how much John B keeps shaking him, he stays deadly still.

"Damn it. JJ, wake up! JJ!" Heyward yells, reaching over John B without looking and shaking JJ - not trying to be gentle whatsoever. Once he doesn't rouse, he pulls his hand back. "Put your hand in front of his nose and mouth and check if he's breathing" he orders John B, flooring the gas pedal and driving way too fast to be safe.

"I-" John B stutters, staring at his shaking hands uselessly.

"Now, John B!" Mr. Heyward warns.

John B manages to pull it together just enough to lift his hand in front of JJ's face. At first, he feels nothing. He can hear Heyward asking him the same exact question again and again - is he breathing? But John B doesn't want to say it. He can't. Tears start to well up in his eyes and just as he's about to let his hand drop in defeat, he finally feels the slightest warmth on his freezing hands. Everything seemingly stops as he waits for the next exhale to happen. It takes longer than it should, but he feels the warmth again, which is good enough. "He's breathing" he chokes out. "He's breathing!"

"Okay" Heyward says, exhaling in relief. The road is empty, so he allows himself to close his eyes for a second to try and compose himself, even though he's driving like an absolute maniac. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see that John B is shaking like a leaf and if he's being honest, the only thing keeping his own hands from shaking uncontrollably is the fact that he's clutching the steering wheel.

John B looks absolutely lost for what Heyward thinks might actually be the first time in his life. For as long as he's known him, the kid always had ideas up his sleeve. Whether they were good or bad remains unclear, but nevertheless he always managed to find a way to do something .

Right now though, his shaky hands are just sort of lingering in the air, a few inches away from JJ, as if he were afraid touching him would make him stop breathing. And yet he seems reluctant to put them down, so Heyward decides to give him something to do before he drives himself crazy.

"Tilt his head back and lift his chin up a little. And make sure he keeps breathing."

John B nods as he keeps blinking the tears away, somehow ecstatic that his best friend is breathing, even though that probably shouldn't be the only golden standard for someone's happiness.

John B busies himself by staring at JJ's chest intensely, his own breathing spontaneously syncing up with JJ's breathing as if he could somehow coax JJ into breathing more normally just by breathing at the same time as him.

It feels like forever, but after one too many potholes and deep puddles, the truck finally comes to a halt. John B allows himself to glance up for the first time since JJ passed out and is relieved to finally be able to see the smudged hospital sign shining through the pouring rain.

He unbuckles JJ as fast as he possibly can with his hands that still won't stop shaking, eager to get him to a doctor, before the passenger door flies open and Heyward's strong hands lift JJ up with ease.

John B scrambles after them, briefly noticing that Heyward literally couldn't have parked any closer to the entrance without actually driving into the building. (He wasn't kidding when he said he was going to break laws. John B can't wait to tell JJ how Mr. I-obey-the-rules-and-you-better-obey-them-too-or-else broke laws for him. As in plural. And especially for him. The one kid in Outer Banks who does rule-breaking for a living. Go figure.)

"We need some help over here!" Heyward yells the second he steps foot through the door of the emergency room, snapping John B out of his thoughts as he crashes into his broad back. He allows himself one last glance at JJ's pale and unmoving face, before they are swarmed by nurses and doctors and JJ is whisked away.

Cue the sighs of frustration...

*laughs nervously* Please don't hate me.

Thank you for sticking around or welcome if you're new and were spared that first cliffhanger. And I sincerely apologize for the new cliffhanger in both cases. I fully expected this to be the last chapter, but as you can see, that mission was failed successfully. So, I guess my new mission this summer is to actually finish this story. I have some of the next chapter written, but we all know where that got me last time as far as actually posting it goes, so I'm just not gonna make any promises and hope for the best.

I hope you liked it. As always, reviews are more than welcome and very much appreciated. I wish you all the best and I hope you have a great summer/winter!

Until next time,
P4L