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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴛᴡᴏ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴇɴᴅ

❝ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜᴇ, ʙᴀʙʏ. ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ. ❞

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                                           DESPITE WHAT SOME PEOPLE MAY THINK, FALLING OFF OF A CLIFF IS NOT FUN.

It's also made even more 'not fun' when you're one: deathly afraid of heights, and two: unable to use your hands because they're bound together with a cable tie.

The aforementioned two factors coupled with the shock of being plunged into the swirling, bone-chilling abyss known as the Atlantic Ocean launched you into a state of fear, leaving you struggling between the waves of the sea as you sunk down further and further.

You kicked your legs roughly in an attempt to try and propel yourself to the surface, but it was no use, and you continued sinking.

You could feel the air slowly start to evaporate from your lungs, and your leg strokes got weaker and weaker. The drowsiness from lack of air started to take over and soon enough, you were lifelessly falling down.

Despite the freezing temperature of the seawater, you weren't cold. In fact, the cold seemed to be comforting you, in a way. Calming you down.

As you continued on your descent, the cold brought you peace. It was speaking to you – telling you to relax. It beckoned to you. Called out to you. Drew you in.

And you didn't resist it.

The cold was familiar. It had spoken to you once before, when you were a little girl of about six or seven years old. You had been playing outside in the snow when you accidently fell into a hole in the frozen lake, baptizing you in coldness. It had brought you peace then too. Told you not be afraid. Just like it was doing now.

Your top eyelids gradually began to droop and once they met your bottom ones, you gave in.

~

The moment your feet left the gravel on the edge of the cliff, Hill and Corvey let out horrified yelps and starting barking orders at their colleagues to get a team to the beachfront and into the water to help you.

Meanwhile, without so much as a moment's hesitation, Brendon freed himself from his jacket. Tossing the obstructing item somewhere on the ground, he broke out into a sprint towards the edge of the cliff before diving off of it into the water down below.

The iciness of the water came as a shock to his system, but due to the liberal amount of adrenaline pumping through his veins at present, he was able to navigate through the water with the same amount of ease he normally would.

During his first survey of the underwater, he was unable to find you. He resurfaced for some air, counting to five before going under again.

This time, he swam around underwater frenziedly for about twenty seconds, and then he saw you. You were deep down.

Very deep down.

Your seemingly lifeless body showed no sign of slowing down its decline, and Brendon knew that he had to get to you now, or else it would be too late.

Collecting all of the strength he could muster, Brendon kicked out as hard as he could and started swimming towards you. You seemed so far out of his reach, and he found himself struggling to keep on going. His muscles were starting to pull from the constant movement and the ice-cold water, but he tried his hardest to ignore his body's cries of agony and just focus on getting to you.

After what seemed like forever, your bodyguard finally managed to get close enough to grab you. He clutched onto your motionless body desperately, letting a few air bubbles escape his mouth as he proceeded to drag you up with all of his might.

Once you were in his arms, he began kicking his legs and using the arm that wasn't holding you to try and manoeuvre to the surface. The burning in his lungs was getting stronger and he knew that if he didn't break through the surface soon, there was a great possibility that both of you would die.

By some miracle, he persevered and kept on pushing through until eventually, the cool night air greeted both of your faces.

Spluttering and taking a minute to catch his breath and regulate his breathing, Brendon gently lifted both of your limp arms and slung them around his neck. With you safe in his grasp, he started for the beach.

~

Carefully, Brendon set you down on the damp sand and dropped to his knees beside you. He lifted his hand and lightly brushed the stray strands of wet hair from your face before bringing his ear down to your mouth to check whether you were breathing.

You weren't.

"Shit," he grumbled, hurriedly pushing away the sides of your jacket and checking for a pulse, which he found. He sighed in relief. You were alive; you just weren't breathing.

Working quickly, he placed his hands on your sternum and began performing CPR.

"C'mon, (Y/N)," he growled through gritted teeth as his hands continued pressing down on the bone in your chest.

He stopped his actions and started mouth-to-mouth. After he had finished, he waited for a moment to see if you would start breathing again and when you didn't, his anxiety welled up.

"No. No, come on. Come on," he repeated his actions, first on your chest and then on your mouth. He repeated this two more times, but you still showed no sign of taking even the shallowest of breaths.

Brendon's hands were shaking with fretfulness at this point, and he ran them through his hair, tugging at it and shutting his eyes tightly in anger.

"Fuck, (Y/N), don't do this," he pleaded, brushing the rest of your hair out of the way, "Please."

He wiggled one arm under your head, lifting you up and pulling you closer, into his chest. He cupped the right side of your somehow still warm face, and gently brushed his thumb over your cheek as he looked down at your still face with imploring eyes.

"Breathe, baby. Please," he said softly, still stroking your cheek.

A couple seconds later, you started coughing and spluttering up the water that had gathered in your trachea. Brendon swiftly lifted you up and to the side, so that all of the water could run out onto the sand, and tucked your hair behind your ear.

After all the water was gone, you were still left shaking and gasping as you tried to reacclimatise to being on land. You were a shell-shocked mess, and your bodyguard held you closer and comforted you.

"Shh, shh, hey. It's okay, you're okay now," he soothed, once again cupping your face.

His touch did wonders on your traumatised state and when you had calmed down, you gave him a closed lipped, tired smile.

He did the same.

Right then, a team of S.H.I.E.L.D personnel, led by Agent Hill, rushed over. They wanted to put you on a gurney so that they could wheel you back and have you checked out by the medical staff, but you refused.

"At least take this blanket," Agent Hill insisted, holding out a scratchy grey piece of material, "You must be as frozen as an ice-block."

You shook your head. "No, it's alright. I'm not cold. I don't get cold."

Hill slowly withdrew the blanket, and as you finished your sentence, you caught her and Brendon sharing a look that you couldn't decipher. You wanted to question it, but you didn't get the chance.

"We need to get you two back to HQ," she said, "The Director wants to see you."

You grimaced. "How bad is it?" 

She cocked her head side to side and bared her teeth. "Let's just say... you guys would've been better off just staying in the ocean."

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Thank you for reading x