quicklog: gwen/jason on the shore
[Jason made it to the shore in record time, bursting through the doorway of a bar a few blocks from the beach and sprinting in the direction of the water. Already, he was running through the streets toward the bay. Where was this fucking base she had talked about? In the water somewhere, but that meant they could all come up anywhere around here.
But there, in the water, wasn't that a shape? Bubbles burst on the surface, big ones, like the kind that came out of a good-sized structure as it was submerged and gave up the ghost. He sprinted all the harder as people started to look down toward the bay to see what all the fuss was about.
Anywhere. She could come up literally anywhere on the beach, and if he hadn't spotted a flicker of blonde hair near the surface of the water about a hundred feet from where he hit the sand, he might not have seen her at all.
He didn't think. He hadn't prepared. He just ran, tearing across the open space to grab her by the arms and flip her over.
Christ, it was her but she wasn't breathing. He could hear his blood in his ears as he dragged her a few feet further up onto the sand and started to administer CPR. The counting between breaths kept him focused - pumping hard with his hands against her rib cage, then blowing sharply into her mouth. And cursing. Actively, creatively cursing whatever fucking deity thought it was fun to keep trying to kill this girl, over and over again. She was cold, and wet, and she wasn't breathing, and he didn't have a fucking clue what he was saying, just pumping against her lungs and flooding them with breath, willing her to take it.]