I don't know if people still read home and away fan-fiction, but you know, I having a fetish for writing home and away right now. The next one I'm doing I think will be based on the Danny Braxton story-line, so will be recent with what's going on.

Just a small snippet of Hurt Casey, this is just the start, it's going to be a few more chapters. Because I kinda love it when my favorite characters get hurt and it's all angsty, and personally since I've watched Home and Away for what I think is a long time there's some central characters which always get hurt, and then other characters who hardly get hospital hurt, so because of that Casey is going to get hurt.

I should feel bad, but I don't. Please review.

He was a little bit lonely - okay, he was very lonely. There was absolutely noone else there. Just him, him and his stupid inner thoughts about how he could be such an idiot. He was stuck with the demeaning tone in his head, whispering insults in his own voice, and Casey found himself unable to ignore it as he choked and cleared water from his nose and throat. It was strange, he'd swallowed sea water before - hell, every surfer had at some point, but the water had never made him feel nauseous before. It had always tasted salty and bitter, leaving the burning taste in his mouth and throat, but had never made him want to throw up.

He supposed it was his own fault, his punishment for daring to dive under and take on the harsh waves, especially after Mr Stewart had warned them all off going in since the storm surf was on it's way. But he hadn't thought it looked that bad on the shore, obviously he underestimated the force of those waves when they hit him; and overestimated his surfing ability. He was no Brax after all. He wasn't the fearless surfer his brother was, and as he'd proven right now, if he tried to be; the most likely result was him drowning.

Casey fought hard, but the harder he fought, the harder the beast of the water fought back, pulling him further and further away from land.

He could still see the shoreline, and the rock he'd been standing on before he'd dived - but smaller now. Seemingly drifting father away, and away, and away.

He felt himself sinking, but he had to try, anxious to get back to the dry land, knowing his surf board was long gone. Within seconds he realized - he couldn't. The rush and current had pulled him too far out, and he had expended almost all of his energy fighting desperately just to keep his head up - which he failed at miserably, ending with him ingesting salty liquid.

Casey was not 'the little fish who could'. He was normally a strong swimmer, but had weakened considerably, fatigue setting in surprisingly sharply. Something Casey hadn't expected, whenever he thought of something like this he had always imagined his energy to slowly fade away. But it was more like zapped away, and he found himself hesitating between breaths, legs and arms feeling suspiciously numb, and head bobbing just below the surface.

He was too far out, too deep so the waves weren't as hard or pulsing anymore, so he no longer felt like he was being swallowed whole when the foam hit him. Now it was just like...ripples, he just felt swaying. It was kind of relaxing, a much better respite than being forced under. Now he was just sinking, slowly, but he was still sinking and was just too damn tired, too damn numb to even attempt to swim back. Then he'd be back in range of the crashing sea foam, the kind that hurt. The blue waves eating at him now didn't hurt as much, but the salty water was still rushing down his throat as he tried to breathe. It still made him want to throw up.






He didn't exactly know why he was staring at sand, rock, and swaying kelp instead of blue sky.

Wrong world.

Wrong way.

He'd gone down, not up. Gotten turned around somehow, heading towards a murky grave. He was so cold. So weak. Exhausted, and barely moving.

Not one to give up, Casey somersaulted - hands scrambling at the water, clawing fingers urgent to tear their way through, propel his head back up to the life giving oxygen of his world. Arms flapping, feet kicking, nostrils burning, urging every bit of strength he had in him to climb his way out.

It seemed like a lifetime, but Casey finally broke the surface with desperate spluttering, trying to call for help. For anyone, for his brothers? Brax always helped him, and even Heath did; despite the insulting quips Casey found himself facing whenever Heath talked to him half the time. But things had been better, much better since he'd moved out from mum's, and now they were both there. But they weren't here now, not when he needed them, instead he was alone and drowning.

Little more than a second passed before one of those waves hit him again, plunging him under and he choked on foamy sea water. When had the foamy waves come back? Casey thought he was out of range of them, had he drifted closer to shore without realizing? He didn't think he had, he'd just felt down-ness. Or was it up? He didn't know anything anymore.

Casey reached the top again, not knowing how, gasping for breath. His body went rigid, cramps hitting him hard and he fought the urge to double over. Drowning was said to be a tranquil peaceful way to die, Casey grunted, not everything you googled was true. Drowning was scary and lonely - Casey's lung were already a tight mass of pain, his entire body shivering with the cold; and he found his awareness deading significantly.

Looking upwards, Casey took in the blue sky, a lone bird. Or was that a cloud passing by? Water rippled around his ears, stilling from the crashing waves for a moment. Casey was glad there wasn't anymore foamy ones, he was just swaying again now. He tilted his head far back, chin raised high, yet barely keeping his face above the water's surface. The beast of the water was playing with him, like a oversized, killer kitten - Casey being the figurative ball of yarn.

Yanking him down.

Letting him surface.

Yanking him down again.

He wasn't going to make it.

"Case! Casey!" Brax's far away voice beckoned him, so so far. Too far.

For the moment there was no foam, and no swaying, it had left him be. Casey thrashed about in a frenzy, trying to stay afloat but only slipping under - and popping back up, rasping agonizingly. He knew he was drowning slowly, agonizingly - his own fault. Everything wavered. Jiggled. Wiggled. Colors diluting, like what he imagined being high was like. And yet, Casey somehow managed to follow his brother's voice to the far far far away place, catching sight of Brax racing across the sand of the beach.

"Swim! Casey, swim!" Brax yelled, reaching the end of the shore, slashing water, diving in headlong - total abandon.

Casey scolded himself, and the fight in him was renewed.

Brax's coming.

Don't give up.

Never let go.

Just don't.

Find away.

Casey struggled, all attention focused on Brax's command, knowing his brother was on his way. He just needed to hold out a little longer, but his left arm had already gone completely numb, his other limbs would soon follow.

Casey listened for Brax, but all he heard now was the wind whistling cold in his ear, and water lapping against his neck. There was nothing but open water everywhere he looked, the shore was gone, where was he supposed to swim to? What direction? Where was Brax? An abandoned sick-in-his-heart sensation took over, and Casey knew, sooner or later, he was going under - and staying under. If Brax ever got to him, he'd be a corpse ready to dry off and bury, and if not, he'd rot at the bottom with the dead fish.

The water was freezing cold. Casey was confused, frightened, disoriented, hardly treading water.

Swim. Casey, swim. Brax's voice - a warning in his head.



Casey's sluggish memory struggled to define the word. An aquatic sport. To travel through water - stay afloat, don't touch bottom, don't breathe in the liquid.

"Shit," Casey's breath came in short sporadic pants, his brain was swimming, but his body wasn't. "Ahhh!" Casey cried out on instinct, water invading with the foam down his throat, and he spiraled down. And sideways?

He wasn't sure what hurt worse, his heaving chest or the stabbing pain of sharp jagged rockface mauling his right calf. He was a rag doll, the wave flinging him this way and that, and for a second time Casey slammed into the underwater rock. A flat part this time, but it still hurt, and he still felt the back of his head crack against it. That wasn't good. None of this was good.

The water flooded with a strange warmness suddenly, and for some freaky reason Casey found it familiar. And it was when he realized he was floating in his own blood, a pillow of it clouding up the water from his raggedly ripped leg. And maybe his head? Was his head bleeding too? There was too much water to tell, and too much blood warmness from his leg for him to be able to separate what warmness was coming from where.

Was he swimming? He couldn't be certain, everything was numb, the pressure in his chest was burning, the warmness was fading somewhere and for some crazy moment Casey wished he would bleed more so the warmness would come back.

He was pulled under again, pulsing water slamming him around, he missed the rock this time. His hands groped for a hold of something, anything - a rope, even the evil underwater rock, anything to stop his imitation of a rag doll, but only water slipped through his splayed fingers.

Casey kicked at his feet. Waved his arms. But still, he sank. Ears filling with water, like a fish whose fins had been ripped off, gills stuffed with sludge.

He struggled once again up to the surface. He was going up, wasn't he?

A gasping breath came to him.


Casey sucked in a deep, choking breath. "Br'x." Consciousness was slipping, but he swore he could hear the slashing of Brax's hurried rescue efforts. "H're," Casey gasped in distress, the call of his name now buzzing in his ears, Brax begging him to stay with him. To hold on. "Braaa..." Casey's breath slipped in and out along with a mouthful of water. "Can't," He gurgled, shook his head.

Casey gasped another breath, some amazing miracle as no water stole it from him, and sank.

Brax wouldn't get to play his favorite mysterious superhero. He wouldn't get to be Superman.

As if on cue, above him on the water at a diagonal, the waves rippled. Strong arms reached out, cutting through the water, two legs kicking hard - propelling the human form forward.

"Brax!" Casey gasped involuntarily, air bubbles escaping his mouth, his arms searching upwards towards his rescuer, but he still sank - his body giving up. He was going to die. He continued to sink, staring upwards. Brax was still swimming, his strides fast and efficient, but still not close enough.

Everything began to slow down. The water - light blue turning cloudy brown mixed with crimson blood as Casey neared the sandy bottom. He was very deep, was he this deep before? He didn't care anymore.

Casey sucked in water, coughing silently, sucking in more. The sea tearing and burning, filling his lungs up like an old rubber boot.

No air.

Struggling violently.

Getting nowhere.


Water flooding down his throat, taking his tongue with it - strangling him.

Muffled sound.





He knew he was going down now, there was no way to go up anymore.

He tried to lift his head, tried to look at his brother. Brax was all that mattered now, just seeing the man who raised him one last time, just seeing that one family member who was vaguely with him when he died. That's all he wanted, but the water pressure wouldn't allow Casey's simple last request.

He couldn't feel the pain anymore. Couldn't feel a thing. He needed to sleep. Accepting his fate, Casey let himself fade, going totally and completely limp.

The muddy brown mixed with red turned to ink-well black, the last of his air escaping in a fizz of bubbles out of his mouth and nose.

Someone or something grabbed hold of him, a firm band wrapped around his chest. Holding him afloat, tugging him upwards. Casey wanted to fight, but couldn't, all he could do was hang limply in the hold of whatever had him now.

Closing his eyes - floating in a dream.

Casey was semi-aware of being tugged from the water's hold. Dragged across soft sand. Belly flopped face down. Someone was choking, gagging beside him.

"Casey! Case..." A strangled voice summoned him, frantic in his ear. "Dammit, Casey!" He was so close now Casey could feel his warm breath on him, but he couldn't take any of the air in. "Son of a bitch. Open your friggin' eyes!"

Casey didn't want to obey, who was this nut-job? He was warm here, and strangely calm, pain free. He wanted to tell this crazed person to leave him alone, he was okay, he was at peace and wanted to stay there. But as much as much as he tried, no energy would come forth to let him.

Hands fumbled awkwardly with him, and he was rolled over roughly, his head flopping back against the sand. Cold, trembling fingers invaded his space, pressed along the side of his neck, annoyingly hard, all in various spots. Casey tried to slap the hand away, nothing worked.

"No." The cold fingers stilled on one spot. "No, no, no!"

Casey wandered through a fluffy white cloud, but everything he saw was still black. Was he imagining it? More shouting came, but it wasn't the crazed guy. How many nut-jobs were there? And why were they so loud, why couldn't they just leave him alone?

There was more shouting, and footfalls, the yelling got closer, sounding panicked and Casey felt sand fly on his face as someone skidded to their knees by his head. More yelling, so loud. The first crazed guy was snapping back at the second, the one who was by his head, making Casey's brain vibrate with the noise.

Then there was still more talking, though the first crazed guy wasn't talking to the second anymore. Now the nut-job was repeating himself, almost like a chant, sounding distant and pained.

"Hold on...hold on..."

Hold on to what? There was nothing but white fog, even though it was still black.

Now the second nut-job was talking again, it was funny Casey thought vaguely, they were all talking in chants.

"One-two-three-four-breathe. One-two-three-four-breathe." A more composed voice repeated over and over again, small amounts of warm air fluttering down his closed off throat. The second nut-job still sounded panicked, wait who was who now? But wait, did it really matter?

What the hell?

A pounding came to his chest, his heart? No, the force wasn't coming from the inside as it should, it was on the outside. It wasn't supposed to be from the outside, had his heart been taken out? No, that couldn't be it be it, his heart wouldn't be beating then and he'd be dead. Was he dead?

"No..." The voice was muffled as if a pillow had been shoved over his head. "...Caaaa...sssseee...yyy." He was drifting slowly, floating away, it felt nice, there was more white fog now and not as much black. Huh, he couldn't help but think, you really did see the light when you die. Shame he wouldn't be able to tell anyone about his discovery.

The pounding came faster, fisted. It nearly made him sit bolt upright, making his heart jump once then still, his body thumping hard to the ground.

And shit, okay, that hurt.

So he wasn't dead, things wouldn't hurt when he was dead. Unless death really was that cruel...

There was pressure against his chest again, ribcage moving. Bone rubbing bone. Up and down. His heart forced to beat in quick jerks. This was wrong, all wrong, and Casey was losing all of his senses.

The peace was gone.

Replaced with fear.

Lungs stuffed inside a glass full of water - crushing him. Why were these people hurting him? Why wouldn't they let him be at peace? Did they want him to suffer?

Someone called to him. No, screamed...it was the nut-job again, the first one. Was he a nut-job though? Something seemed familiar, more familiar than the feeling of warmness before he realized he'd been floating in his own blood. That was Brax, wasn't it? Brax was his brother...his oldest brother, the one he vaguely remembered being his superman when he was younger...

His brother's shaking hands were running through his hair, thumbing along his cheekbone. He couldn't hear what Brax was saying, but his brother was scared, Casey had learnt the tell-tales signs of his brother's emotions after all these years.

Something was pressing on his leg now, and Casey figured dimly that he was probably still bleeding, staining the yellow sand. His head was probably bleeding from where he whacked it earlier too, though he had never actually been able to tell if he had a head wound in the water.

The next voice came from lower down his body and Casey associated it with his ravaged leg, so guessed nut-job number two was pressing against his leg, and had spoken. He couldn't tell what it said, but it was loud, boisterous, angry, almost like a growl. Half the things he associated with Heath. When did Heath get here? No wait, Heath was the second nut-job...the nut-job wasn't a nut-job...it was Heath. But then again, Heath and the nut-job concept could be debated, he guessed sleepily.

"Dammit, you bastard! Do your fucking job and breathe!"

Okay, he'd heard that. Trust Heath to throw calmness and the correct method out the window in any sort distress. As far as Casey was concerned he was now ignoring the trained CPR he knew and was blindly punching his chest for any sort of reaction.

Even so, Casey tried to obey, his brothers were here now; both of them, but his body was no longer his. He twisted and turned in the white mist, turned darkness again, scratching at imaginary walls to try and find his way out. He didn't like this, it was like the water; no matter how hard he tried there was nothing grab onto. Nothing to save him.

Suddenly, he saw the green carpet of spring come into focus. A lush meadow filled with yellow buttercups and one enormous sturdy oak tree in the center. How cliche.

It was like he was captured in a world within a world, and Casey watched curiously yet warily as something appeared behind the tree. An old women with a kind face, watching him. White wings, soft as petals unfolded slowly, and her light brown eyes found his. He looked closer, a tiny drop slid down her cheek, how many facets of the universe could be held captive in a single tear?


He remembered her, she'd died when he was eleven, they'd been close, hadn't they? Real close, Grandma had given him what mum hadn't; she given him attention. She'd given them all attention, and Casey had locked himself in his room for three days after her funeral, only letting Brax in to give him food. Food which he'd hardly eaten, he remembered. He remembered the tears as well, even mum had been crying.

Everything was all too clear now.



Grandma beckoned him closer, wanting him to journey beyond the meadow. A fog of sleep crept over him, making his lids slip closed as his feet fumbled closer, his knees growing stronger as her outstretched hand found it's way to him. A few more steps, he wanted to go with her, he wanted it to stop. Grandma was warm, and Grandma was peace.

A cold frost fringed around his whole body, and he shuddered, a shaky breath escaping his parted lips, knowing he was on the edge of death. One step was all Casey needed to take to complete the journey from the cold pain of frost cracking over his skin to the summers of warmth and peace. One step and he would know all the answers to all the questions he had ever asked. Grandma stood patiently, as always, waiting for him to decide. Her eyes soft as sparrow's wings, and she offered everything he had lost and grieved for when she'd passed. When she'd passed here. She looked sad to see him here, but she looked happy, content. She wasn't conflicted, not anymore, she had always been conflicted and if this place she wanted to take him had made her like this...what could it do for him? He heard Grandma's voice, he was not to be afraid. Everything that lives becomes something else, there is no ending. There would never be an end of the line - only another beginning.

"Jesus, today asshole!" A voice broke forth through the silence, absorbing him. "Damn you!" It was strong, pulling him back, even though he should be running from a voice sounding so angry. But it was panicked, scared, pained - and most of all, it was demanding, the voice wasn't about to let him take that single step.

And neither was the other. "Come on! Casey come on mate, breathe. Just breathe. That's all you have to do. Breathe!" Something inside Casey recognized the fact in his oldest brother's voice was right. He needed to breathe. He wasn't done with his life, and Grandma smiled softly. She understood, she would happily wait.

Casey shivered, feeling like he was the sole source of the coldest morning he could ever remember, and the meadow turned white with frost, ice crystals hung from the oak, and the buttercups became hidden beneath a blanket of white. The spell broken, leaving him feeling like a snowflake drifting into blackness.

It hurt, and for a second as the ice consumed him, maybe longer, Casey regretted his decision.

"Casey!" His chin was tugged upwards, mouth pulled open, warm lips pressed to his cold ones. Hot breath trailed down his throat, hitting the imaginary blockage; still, not reaching him.

"Don't do this!" Fists on his chest, his heart jumped, his body bouncing and thumping to the ground. Again.


Another breath.

"Dammit Casey, you are not checking out on me!"

More pumping came after Brax's exclamation, were they taking turns? Why were they taking turns? Oh wait, Casey thought sleepily, that's what your supposed to do isn't it?

Another breath. Casey could hear waves slashing against the shore, felt the faint traces of water lapping at the soles of his already wet feet.

Pumping, body jumping, heart shocking, more thumping. Maybe this just wasn't supposed to be, maybe it wasn't supposed to work...had he made the wrong choice? Had he thrown away his chance to be at peace with grandma?

Another mouthful of air.

Casey struggled, but only arms and legs twitched. Why was nothing happening? Something should be happening, maybe he really had made the wrong choice. He hadn't meant to, but Brax had always told him what to do, which he had always done it like a good little soldier, and Brax had told him to breathe, to come back. God, why did he listen to Brax? Why didn't he rebel this one time?

"Casey! Stop screwing with us, mate!"

A hard slap to his right cheek. Ow. Looks like correct method for resuscitating people had gone out the window again. Thanks Heath.

Casey's fingers flexed, something soft yet grainy filling his palm. Casey chastised himself, it was sand, what else could it fucking be?

"Casey right now!" A hard slap to his left, and Casey really wished he could hit him back. Why was Heath so insistent on hurting him?

"Casey mate! Come on...Do you hear me?"

He heard, but was paralyzed. Can't. Can't. Heath...Brax...Help. Two more deep breaths raised his chest. At least Heath wasn't slapping him anymore, now he just seemed contempt at yelling curses at him while Brax forced air into his watery lungs.

"Take in some friggin' air! Do I make myself clear?" Now Brax was yelling and ordering him too, and Casey wasn't sure whose forceful hands gripped him by the shoulders, shaking him senseless.

If he weren't in this paralyzed position, or in this much pain he would have rolled his eyes at his brother's new attempt to wake him up, because if CPR hadn't worked, shaking the daylights out of him would do absolutely squat.

He should be dead now. Why wasn't he dead? He was lying here, somehow perfectly coherent in his thoughts, not breathing and still inwardly choking on the water in his lungs and was still somehow fucking alive? He was in Casey's books anyway, was he seriously supposed to lie here forever? It hurt, he was cold, he felt sick, he was starting feel dizzy again and to top it all off one or both of his brothers had now taken to shaking the life out of him. Casey wondered briefly if the shaking thing would kill him, but then he felt dizzy again.

Die, why wouldn't he fucking die? Breathing wasn't working out, so why did the world have to be so fucking cruel to rip away his life, then his chance at happiness and leave him paralyzed and practically comatose in pain for the rest of eternity. Why wouldn't he fucking die?

The shaking stopped, and everything went still. His limp body dropped to the ground, onto the wet sand and his leg landed on the warm wetness of his own blood staining the sand.

"Casey, please." A quiet whisper broke through his dizziness, breezing across his eyelashes. Warm lips to cold blue ones again, the breaths seeming more dangerous, more desperate.

A call went across, fisted pumping again. Oh god, were they back to this? His heart was forced to pump, body bouncing, and the pumping wasn't stopping. It kept going, and going, and going. He thumped and thumped and thumped. His heart pumping madly from outside his body, out of his control anymore, and Casey felt himself slipping again. It was pointless coming back here if he were just going to leave again, he'd just given himself more pain. All the more reason proving Casey should never be allowed to make his own decisions.

Would he go back to the meadow?

Water exploded upwards, rushing from his throat into the open air in a gurgling cough, and the water he'd just retched upwards unpleasantly splattered back on his face when it came down again. He felt it leaking from his nose as well, and more retching water splattered onto his face.

"Yes!" Came an excited whoop he vaguely recognized as Heath, "Yes, yes, yes!"

"Thank God." Frantic hands rolled him onto his side, bracing his head firmly off the ground; level with his shoulders while Casey choked out the ocean he'd inhaled. His panicked gasping thoughts somehow made the way back to his sarcastic commentary of the fact that they'd already screwed up that whole possible fracture to the spinal cord stuff when they were slapping and shaking him, so why that thought had suddenly occurred to Brax now just set his head spinning all over again.


"Guh!" Casey tried to draw his knees inward, but it didn't really work, his coughing had him a little preoccupied.

"That's it, that's it, get it all out Case." Heath's voice was soft now, but still worried, though Casey truly believed it was better than his angry demanding voice which had ended up slapping him silly, something which Casey really hoped he wouldn't do again.




A faceless enforcer pummeled the center of his back, and Casey had no clue who it was anymore, who or what anything was anymore. His line of blackened vision and centered on that thin pin prick tube in his throat that was letting him get air in. When he stopped coughing his brains out anyway.

Chest throbbing, fists clenched, body robotic, mouth gaping, water gushing, gagging, convulsing. Was he crying? No, he was too busy choking, he didn't have time to cry, not when he was fighting his own lungs.

"Br'x" He gasped out, choking some more. Would this ever end?

"Here." Two strong arms wrapped themselves around him, seeming to realize Casey's earlier thoughts that they'd screwed over any fractures to his neck already. "Right here." He was tugged up to sitting, and Casey hunched, lurching forward and felt Heath catch his shoulders to hold him steady. Silent, for once. "Get it out, pal. Get it all out. Come on now, breathe in."

Casey squirmed in the hold, feeling Heath and Brax trying to push him against his older brother's chest instead of hunching himself over, all the while being vaguely aware of more shouting voices making their way to the small family at the corner of the beach.

"Breathe out." He couldn't open his eyes, lashes glued and bunched together. "Breathe in." Casey finally let Heath lean him back against the well-known body, his head lolling side to side, more water dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

He felt Heath press on his leg again, and now being more aware, Casey hissed at the pain; not understanding how the fuck he hadn't felt it before. "Shit..." He heard Heath mutter by his jacked up leg, "Brax, it's not stopping, if we don't do something he's gonna bleed out."

He heard Brax's rumble of agreement in the chest at his back, and Casey felt himself relax, ignoring Brax's quiet and worried response back to Heath. "I know, his head's bleeding too. Must have hit a underwater rock when the waves pushed him under."

He felt Brax shake his head in frustration, "Stupid, Casey. Stupid stupid stupid, what the hell were you fucking doing out there?" Brax rocked him roughly, stilling when Casey's breath hitched again. "Breathe out." He said softly, his tone quickly changing.

Casey let out a painful moan, rolling his head; and attempted to pitifully hide in the crook of Brax's shoulder. Another hand touched his own shoulder, and Casey jerked, not expecting it at all.

"Hey, easy." Came Heath's voice, also soft, "Case mate, Casey open your eyes. Please mate, just look at me."

Feeling that he did in fact owe them for saving his life, even though Heath had slapped him, Casey forced his crusty eyes open, blinking blearily up at his blurred brother sat in front of him, shirt pressed against his leg. Slowly his vision focused and Casey had to blink again at how much blood there actually was, had there been that much in the water? There was a lot of warmness...


His eyes found his brother's again, seeing that flicker of relief in them, and seeing the blurry background behind Heath wavering until he recognized the approaching figures. Casey's eyes flickered closed, not caring to figure out who they were and what they wanted.

He clutched onto Brax's wet jacket, ready to use it to pull himself up. "Lemme..le..mme...up," Casey gagged, trying to use the jacket as a base, but found himself pinned to a heaving chest.

"Stay the fuck still." Came Heath's growl from in front of him, "Give yourself a minute, Brax too while your at it. He just dragged your ass outta there." Casey felt his brother's hand tremble on it's place at his leg. "You almost drowned on us, hell, you did drown on us!" His voice snapped, hands tightening their hold.

"Heath...too tight." Casey panted pathetically, feeling the water sloshing about inside him.


"Leg...too tight...Hurts."

"Well suck it up, I gotta stop the bleeding." Casey groaned again, wheezing in between as Heath pushed even more pressure on his leg, probably in spite. He groaned another time, breath hitching slightly as he half-hid in Brax's shoulder blade again, people still shouting in the background. Huh, he thought they'd be here by now, but then again they were really far out on the beach. Probably not the best place to take off surfing if you happened to need help, again with his stupidity.

"What we...doin' in the...r..r..rain?" Casey asked blindly, chest still heaving, blinking droplets of water from his eyes. He was aware of Brax shooting Heath a worried look, probably thinking he was delirious or something, or he had a concussion. Well screw them, Casey thought bitterly, they didn't know how drowning messed with your fucking head.

Brax lent back more as water dribbled down Casey's mouth more freely, allowing Brax to look at him properly. "Not rain, sea water. You..crap, Casey, I...you..." Casey blinked his eyes open again, seeing Brax's gaze slide sideways. "You...you went under. I didn't think I got to you in time."

"What the hell were you even doing out there anyway?" Heath demanded, jumping back into the conversation.

Casey frowned, and quickly remembered, giving a weak mumble as a response. "Oops."

"What?" Heath said pointedly.

"I...just...oops." Casey shivered, coughing again and his body vibrated against Brax's chest, dizziness setting in, his consciousness failing him once again.

"Easy." Brax's flattened hand rubbed back and forth on Casey's chest, supposed to help in relieving the convulsing but it had no effect at all. His choking got worse, and the panicked expression rebuilt itself on Heath's face as Casey lost his breath, choking, all the while knowing that his older brother could see his eyes starting to roll back into his head.

"Casey." He cried urgently, but it was muffled and then the people who had been running to their side for what felt like years finally arrived, in panic mode and they were surrounded. The little family found themselves broken up and Casey vaguely felt his back on sand again, wondering why Brax had put him back down.

He got his answer soon enough as his coughs grew in intensity and someone, who he presumed was Mr. Stewart, secured an emergency oxygen mask on his face. Oxygen was soon pumping into his skin and lips, and although it made it easier, Casey's world was still stripped to the thin sliver tube which used to be a pin prick, which happened to be shrinking to that particular size again.

Everything was going to darkness again, and all he registered was thin snippets of sentences, all spoken by different people.

"Ambulance...on it's way..."

"...long was the lad out?"

"Leg...bleed out..."


"Just hold...mate..."

"Need...hospital...serious damage...lungs"


Those sentences soon jumbled into an utterely confusing one, and people crowded in a circle around him, Mr Stewart pumping air into his face while Leah Patterson fussed about his head, close to Brax. The last thing Casey registered was the thought of why the fuck Mr Stewart just randomly had a oxygen mask on him like this, before coming to the conclusion that people must drown a lot in this town. Not that surprising, he thought, eyes finally rolling to the back of his head, sending him into oblivion.

Okay, I wasn't expecting to put that part about Casey's grandma in but I hope it works, please review. I'd like to know if it's a good story so I know if it's a good idea to write another one. The next chapters should be up soon.