He collapsed onto the sand, his lungs burning, his body a dead weight. Moses was a limp, sodden mass beside him, his face pale and still. Than had just enough strength to roll him onto his side, his own hands shaking uncontrollably. He coughed, a harsh, ragged sound that sent a spike of pain through his chest. The world was a blur of gray sky and churning surf, the sound of the waves a dull roar in his ears.
Moses drew in a ragged breath.
Then, new figures were running down the beach, their red medical bags a stark slash of color against the muted tones of the day. Two medics skidded to a halt beside them, their movements practiced and efficient.
They were on Moses in an instant, their hands moving with a purpose that was both reassuring and intimidating. One of them helped him to sit up. The other started pulling off Moses's gear, his movements quick and sure.
"He's aware," the first medic said. "Just in shock."
They worked together, their movements a well-rehearsed dance of life-saving precision. One pulled out a blanket and wrapped it around Moses’s shivering body. The other took his vitals.
The second medic turned to Than, his eyes scanning him with a quick, practiced gaze. "You okay? You hurt?"
Than shook his head, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I'm...fine," he managed to say, his voice a raw, hoarse thing.
The medic nodded, his attention already back on Moses. "Stay put. We'll get to you in a second."
Than watched them work, his body aching, his mind a chaotic mess of images and emotions. He saw Moses's face, his eyes wide with terror. He felt the weight of his body, the desperate, flailing struggle. He felt the cold, the exhaustion, the crushing pressure of responsibility.
Concrete jogged up, his face a stony mask of authority. He stopped in front of Than, his eyes sweeping over the scene, the medics, the bedraggled crew crawling up the beach.
"Head count?" Concrete's voice was sharp, cutting through the wind and the sound of the crashing waves.
"Full," Than's response was immediate, clipped, and clear. He pushed himself up, his body a rigid silhouette against the gray, churning sea. "Full count, Instructor Concrete."
Concrete let out a breath, a subtle release of tension that was almost imperceptible. "Recover. Gather with Instructor Brah. Catch your breaths."
Than gave a sharp nod, his eyes still on Moses, who was starting to stir, a low moan escaping his lips. He had a crew to lead and a man to save from himself. The work was just beginning.
The walk back to the barracks was a slow, agonizing trudge. The sky, which had been a sullen gray, finally opened up, a cold, miserable rain that felt like it was washing the salt from his skin only to replace it with a new kind of chill. Every muscle in Than's body screamed, a deep, pervasive ache that was a constant, brutal reminder of the day's events. He was moving on pure will, his mind a chaotic mess of images and emotions.
He saw Moses standing outside the barracks, a solitary, hunched figure leaning against the cold, wet concrete wall. He was shivering, his arms wrapped around himself, his body a tight knot of misery. Than stopped, his own exhaustion forgotten for a moment, anger and something else, something he couldn't quite name, tightening in his gut.
"What the fuck happened out there, Moses?" Than's jaw was so tight, he thought he would crack his teeth. The rain plastered his hair to his forehead, the drops running down his face like tears.
"I don't know..." Moses's voice was a hoarse whisper, his eyes fixed on the ground.
Than stepped into his space, his presence a forceful, intimidating thing. "I know. You got scared and you panicked. You brought the whole boat down."
Moses's breathing went shallow, his body trembling even more. "I know. I'm sorry. That wave was terrifying."
Than's breath sucked in, a sharp, painful gasp. He could almost feel that rogue wave wash over Valor again, the cold, the crushing weight, the panic. He pushed it away, forcing the memory down, his focus returning to the man in front of him.
"I see you, Moses. I see what you have, and any team will want it," Than said, his voice low and intense, a stark contrast to the raging storm around them. "But you've got to stop hustling everyone, including yourself. Buckle the fuck down and do the work. I swear to my ancestors, I'm not giving up on you. You see the theme? Never quit. When I say fucking paddle, you goddamn paddle like your life depends on it and the crew. That was nothing! We've got rock portage at night to do. You will not choke."
Moses leaned his head against the wall, the rain running down his face, mingling with the tears that were now streaming down his cheeks. He took a hard, ragged breath. "I won't, sir."
The rain was a cold, miserable sheet, plastering their hair to their skulls and running in rivulets down their faces. Moses was a wreck, trembling against the wall. Than saw it. The fear. The shame. The edge of quitting. The anger in Than's gut didn't dissipate. It sharpened into a single, driving purpose. He wasn't going to let him stand out here and drown in his own pity.
Without another word, Than grabbed him by the front of his shirt, his knuckles digging into the man's collarbone. He dragged him away from the wall and toward the barracks entrance, his steps sure and forceful. Moses stumbled, his feet barely keeping up.
"Where's your fucking rack?" Than's voice was a low growl, a raw command that cut through the sound of the storm.
"Two... two doors down on the left," Moses stammered, his voice barely audible.
Than didn't hesitate. He hauled him down the hall, his own body a coiled spring of adrenaline and exhaustion. He was so wired, so amped up from the fight in the water, that he almost kicked the door in, his boot lifting before he caught himself. Instead, he turned the knob with a violent twist and pulled Moses inside, shoving him toward the center of the room.
"Get your ass into the shower, as hot as you can stand. Then into dry clothes. Rack it. Tomorrow, we'll have words."
