Chapter 1: Nightswimming

Disclaimer: not mine, y'all.

Note: There will be some OOC behavior in this. As you read, I'm sure you'll understand why. "iOMG" did not happen.

"I can't believe you, Sam. Why would you do that? You got us kicked out."

"I got me kicked out, nub. You could have stayed with Carly and Jack."

"And be their coxswain on another trip through the Tunnel of Love? No thank you."

"Coxswain." Sam giggled. "You still didn't need to leave with me."

"And just how would you have gotten home, Sam?" Freddie asked.

"I just would have hotwired your truck. Or pushed it. Probably would get home quicker that way."

"Yeah, very funny. This is a reliable vehicle. Seriously, Sam, why would you try to stand up on the ride? There were signs telling of the dangers. The guy said something about it before he strapped everybody in. You could have been killed."

"But I didn't, thanks to you ratting me out. Turn this way." She pointed down a road away from the highway. Freddie turned.

"Why are we going this way?"

"There's a pretty cool bridge on the way to my house."

"What, the Thompson Bridge? Hasn't that thing fallen apart yet?"

"Nope. Maybe if we're lucky, it will tonight. Now shut up, Fredward, and let Mama listen to some music." She turned the station and moved the volume louder than the level Freddie's mom had marked on the panel as acceptable and unlikely to cause hearing problems.

They drove in silence for about five minutes. They came to the bridge, which did appear to have passed its best days long ago. Freddie reached out and turned down the volume.

"Hey, Sam, can I ask you a question?"

"Freddie, look out!" Coming at them, much too fast and weaving between lanes, was another vehicle. It didn't have its lights on, or Freddie might have noticed it sooner. Freddie swerved to his left, and the other vehicle seemed to follow him. The headlights on Freddie's truck flashed on the front of the other vehicle, and he saw the license plate for a moment: JWC 669. Freddie swerved back to the right and the other vehicle followed him again. There was no more room for Freddie to maneuver, and the other vehicle clipped the front of Freddie's truck and pushed him further to the right. He heard the crunch of metal as the bumper hit the guard rail. He seemed to hear each ping and crack as metal crunched and the guard rail broke. Part of his mind chastised him for not saving more money to buy a newer vehicle, one that had air bags. He felt his seat belt strain against his chest. He looked over to Sam. Her head was lolling near her open window.

Blood was flowing down her forehead.

She had buckled her seatbelt, but put the shoulder strap behind her. When Freddie had tried to chastise her, she had said it hurt her boobs. Not wanting to get into a big discussion about her boobs or to acknowledge that this hadn't been the first time they had crossed his mind, Freddie had dropped the subject.

"Sam," he said, reaching out to her. And that's when they hit the water.

Freddie's head snapped to the left and collided with his window, shattering it. He felt a sharp pain that began to throb almost immediately. Within seconds his clothes were drenched as water came through both windows.

"Sam," he shouted, although it sound muffled to his own ears, as if it were trapped in guitar feedback. She didn't move, as the water continued to fill the truck. He pressed the overhead light on, hoping it would hold. It flickered. He unbuckled his seatbelt and moved over to her. He tried to unbuckle her seat belt, but it wouldn't give. Water was now past their waists and coming in fast.

"Sorry, Sam," he said, and reached into her front pocket. He pulled out her key ring that had the Swiss army knife. She kept it sharpened, so cutting through the belt was fairly easy. He tried to push her through the window, but the water had nearly filled the cab, and he couldn't move her weight that way. As the top of the truck started to sink beneath the water, he swam through the window and reached back, grasping under her shoulders and pulling her out with him. Despite her deep love for food, she was not a heavy girl, but her weight was now slack, plus her clothes were soaked. And every fiber in Freddie's body seemed to ache. He didn't think he broke anything, but he was unbelievably sore. And he was dizzy. The light went out, and there was only blackness.

He pushed up through the water with his arms wrapped around Sam. With the wake of the sinking trunk pulling at him, it proved to be difficult. When he thought he might not be able to hold his breath any longer, their heads broke the water.

"Sam. Sam. Come on, Sammy." He couldn't see her, and he struggled to turn her around while keeping her head above water. He got within kissing distance of her and felt happy when he could feel her breath on his face. He turned her back around, resting her head against his chin.

He looked around. There were stars in the sky, but no moon. The bridge had been old, and there hadn't been any lights on it, so he couldn't judge based on that. Finally, he just picked a direction to head in. He had a seventy-five percent chance of not screwing up, either coming to the bridge or a shore on either side of it. He tried not to think about what would happen if he headed in the one direction he shouldn't or of what they might run into that way.

With Sam in his arms, he could only kick with his legs and arch with his back. He would occasionally hold onto Sam with one arm wrapped around her and paddle with the other, but that didn't seem to help much. He had the feeling he might have turned around or gone in circles at some point. His head was aching, and it was almost all he could do to hold on to Sam.

"Come on, Sammy, wake up," he whispered in her ear as he swam. He had little strength to speak any louder. He had tried yelling, hoping somebody on the bridge might hear him, hoping the driver that had caused this might have stopped, but his voice barely broke the sound of the water, and each time he tried it only made his head ache more.

"Anyway," he said, feeling completely disoriented. "I was going to ask if you wanted to go on a date with me. You know, the whole works, dinner, movie. I'd pay for it all. It'd be just like normal, 'cept maybe we might kiss at the end. So what do you say, Sam, wanna go on a date?"

Sam said nothing.

"You have to think about it. I understand. I'm not going to pressure you." His face slipped in the water, and he pulled back up, pushing water out of his mouth. He never let Sam slip. "I know, you're thinking that I'm a nub, and you would never date a nub. But sometimes I think you like me, too, Sammy. Do you? Do you like me, Sammy?"

Sam said nothing.

"We'll get back to that. What was I saying?" His feet kept pushing, independent of his mind. All that was going through his head was that he was going to save Sammy, going to save Sammy, going to save Sammy, and how pissed she would be if she knew he was calling her Sammy.

"Samantha," he said, and his weak smile slipped into the water. He pulled his face up and pushed harder.

Crickets. He thought he could hear crickets. Maybe that was just the buzzing on the side of his head, but he pushed toward the sound, anyway, using the sound as a compass, hoping his dizzied mind didn't throw him off course.

His feet hit something solid.

"We're there, Sammy. We're there." His voice was slurring. Despite the solidness beneath him, he couldn't stand up. "We're there, Sammy." He thought he heard her moan. He turned over, so that she was on top of him, her cheek resting on his lips, as he pushed back with his feet. Solid. It was solid. Something pushed against his back.

"We're there, Sammy," he said. He heard a bubbling, as he felt her head slip off his head. He reached back with a trembling hand and felt grass and sand. Land was right there. He grasped Sam with his hands and yanked with all his might, pushing her over his head. He heard her moan as her head hit the ground. Her knee connected with his head, bringing bright light shooting throw his skull. He turned to the side and water crept into his mouth.

Sammy is safe. Safe. Sammy is safe, he thought. Just gonna catch a quick nap, Sam, and we'll be on our way, he tried to say, but all that happened was more water.

Slippage.

Sam groaned. She hurt all over. She had been with Freddie.

"Look out, Freddie!" she shouted, sitting up. She looked around, but could see nothing. They weren't on the bridge. Her forehead hurt. She put her hand to it and pulled back with stickiness. There had been a car. Freddie...

"Freddie?" She moved, and felt something against her leg. She reached down and felt...it was the side of a face. Under water. She reached down and felt the face. She knew that face; it had been slapped by her hand plenty enough. She pulled him up under his arms, until his face was out of the water. She struggled to get him on the ground with her. She attempted to check his breath and his pulse, but she was shivering and didn't know what movement was her and what was Freddie.

"Freddie, come on, wake up. Please. Freddie." She didn't notice as tears joined the wetness between them. She saw a large red spread on the side of his head.

She saw.

She looked up. Blinking lights. Red. Blue.

"Anyone down there?" a voice yelled.

"Here," she tried. Little came out. She tried again. "Here! Hurry, he's hurt."

It seemed forever, but the two officers were down within two minutes, shooting their flashlights ahead of them.

She almost wished the lights were gone. Freddie's wound looked worse under that glare. But his face looked sunken, like that of a wax figure.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" one of them asked.

"Fine, just take care of him," she said, even though the other officer was already attending to Freddie. He turned to the first officer.

"He's not breathing."

A/N: Anybody who's reading "What If No One's Watching", don't worry. I'm still writing that one-just felt like writing this one, also. I don't know how many chapters this will last, probably at least five. I hope to have another update by this weekend.