Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sun has started to lower in the sky but the crowd numbers remained high into the late afternoon. A light breeze brushed through Chappo’s hair as he stood on the shoreline. To the right of him, police were gathered around a failed resus victim, preparing to transport the body off the beach. Exhaling a shaky breath, Chappo watched the waves roll in, the same waves that just took a life.

The swimmer was found face down in the shallows, easy enough to stand but clearly something had gone very wrong. Maybe a medical episode, Chappo didn’t know, but he had run down from the tower with the defib as soon as he saw the swimmer get dragged out of the water by Maxi. They, along with Singlets and a local who claimed to be a doctor, worked tirelessly on their patient but it was no use. Paramedics called it not long after they arrived.

Maxi and Singlets had packed up the equipment and were about to head back to the tower.

“You coming, mate?” Singlets called from the buggy as he started it up.

Chappo could feel the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes “Please don’t cry” he whispered to himself. He took a deep breath “You go ahead, I’ll catch you up” Chappo called back to his mate.

Singlets studied Chappo for a second, realising that the guy needed a moment. It was understandable, they were all feeling it right now.

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As the youngest bloke to ever join the service, Maxi at 16 was bright eyed and bushy tailed, wanting to make a good impression and pursue his dream career at the time which was lifeguarding. He knew he had a lot to prove, show the older lifeguards he was just as capable and responsible as them. Silently, he was putting too much pressure on himself. There was a want, a need, to fit in and belong. He laughed at jokes, took pranks in his stride and got along with the others the best he could, but nothing could quieten the small voice in his head telling him he didn’t really belong there.

The lifeguards that had been there for years were tight knit with easy camaraderie radiating from them. Maxi also wanted to feel wanted, join in on all the inside jokes. He’d left school for this job, left behind his peers who were still learning in classrooms. His friends had little time for him because of schoolwork and likewise, Maxi didn’t have much spare time anymore between work and training. In all honesty, he felt a little out of place and alone. He didn’t regret trying out for the service but maybe he should’ve finished school first.

One day mid-morning down the south end of the beach with Kerrbox, Maxi stared out at the big blue in front of him, lost in his own thoughts. Everyone around him had their own lives that they carried on with and sometimes it felt like people moved forward while he remained static, stuck in place with no one to pull him out of the stillness. He let out a sigh, not meaning to. Kerrbox looked over at him; he’d noticed the kid tended to smile to hide whatever was really going on.

Without thinking about it, Kerrbox clapped Maxi on the shoulder “You’re doing fine, rookie. Keep your head up, otherwise you’ll lose a swimmer” he joked.

Maxi cracked a weak smile.

Later on, after a pretty textbook rescue, some of the other lifeguards patted him on the back and for the first time, Maxi felt that closeness to his fellow lifeguards.

As time went on, the bond grew and Maxi realised, as he stood in the tower laughing at one of Harries’ joke, that he had made the right choice by joining. He’d found his place. The other lifeguards were not just his mates, they were family.

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Panicked swimmers would do anything to stay afloat, even if it meant pushing their rescuer underwater. Hoppo had seen it happen, to surfers and other swimmers who tried to help, and to a couple of his lifeguards. It was always a heart wrenching moment, watching from the tower not being able to leave and run to help. Luckily, from those incidents, everyone had come out alright.

Now, he had found himself in the predicament he had watched several times; out in the waves trying to save a panicking swimmer, without a board. The swimmer was a bigger bloke than he was, it was a struggle to keep him floating, especially when the guy was in full blown panic mode. Hoppo being there clearly didn’t put the guy’s mind at rest.

“It’s alright, mate. Back up is coming” Hoppo tried to calm the situation, his calm exterior faltering when the guy pushed down on him again, sending him under the waves.

Hoppo barely had time to take a breath as he surfaced before being submerged again; the weight of the guy holding him under. Now would be the perfect time for any back up to arrive, even a surfer intervening would be a god sent, but help was still some time away. Jethro and Harrison were racing to get to Hoppo but the waves were relentless.

From the tower, all Deano could do was watch as he saw Hoppo constantly get pushed under the water. He hovered near the door with the binoculars, one hand resting on the defib, hoping they wouldn’t need it for their own boss.

By the time Jethro reached them, the bloke was exhausted, and Hoppo was breathing in precious oxygen finally. Harrison also reached them.

“Need a lift?” He said to Hoppo with a cheeky grin.

Hoppo shot him a glance and shook his head. The group headed in but Hoppo was already going through procedures in his head; he had most definitely inhaled water, and that became apparent to Harrison when he heard Hoppo coughing, some sea water coming back up.

“Shit” Harrison cursed under his breath.

Deano watched on, relived when Hoppo walked out of the water but that was short lived when Hoppo then collapsed to his knees on dry sand, hacking up more water.

Jethro, Harrison and Deano had all been involved in looking after swimmers with suspected secondary drowning, but none of them expected to be taking care of their head lifeguard who was now at risk of it.

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It was the hottest day of the year so far. Temperatures were expected to peak at 42 degrees.

Jethro and Maxi had already treated 2 people for heatstroke and were now dragging a semi-conscious female from the shallows, another suspected heatstroke.

Hoppo scanned from the tower, taking off his cap to fan himself for a second before readjusting it on his head. “Bloody hell” he exhaled, the heat was pushing everyone to their limits today.

He could hear Chappo swearing as he climbed the tower stairs, muttering about it being ‘heatstroke central’ today. Hoppo chuckled but he knew Chappo wasn’t wrong in his statement. People needed to drink a lot more today of all days but with sunbathers focusing on tanning and not drinking, he knew they were a risk of overheating.

Chappo took a seat, a cold bottle of water being held on his forehead “Fucking hell, Hop, what the hell is this heat?”

“Hottest day, mate. Wish we could just shut the beach, make life easier” Hoppo half grumbled, half chuckled.

The radio crackled “Jethro to Bondi central, need some assistance down south with our heatstroke patient.”

Before Hoppo could respond, Chappo was already on his radio “Copy that, on my way” Chappo grabbed another cold bottle of water as a precaution and headed out.

Hoppo sighed, his men were overworked and in this heat, it could only be a matter of time before one of them collapsed.

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It was well known that Kerrbox had a fear of heights and of rats, and he’s still not fully forgiven some of the boys (especially Harries) for the prank they pulled involving a rat, placing it under his hoodie in the tower and then Harries chasing after him with the rat in the box. He never got any of them back for that. Still, life at Bondi continued and Kerrbox always kept a distance between him and anything that could trigger his phobias.

On this particular overcast day, Kerrbox was in the tunnel putting some equipment away, and that’s when he heard a faint scuttling noise from behind him. Not really thinking about it, he turned towards the noise and entered a stare down with quite a large, scruffy rat.

“Fuck” Kerrbox bolted for the entrance, feet kicking up sand as he skidded out and then up the tower stairs. He stumbled into the tower with such speed, that the lifeguards inside panicked.

Chappo nearly dropped his coffee, Hoppo thought a swimmer had drowned, Harries just looked confused, and Maxi couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at Kerrbox’s wild state.

“Fuck me” Kerrbox breathed heavily.

“What happened?” Hoppo asked, looking to see if Kerrbox was injured at all, his lifeguard instincts ramped up to max.

“A fucking rat in the tunnel” Kerrbox bent over, resting his hands on his knees, trying to calm his racing heart.

Harries let out a laugh “A rat, seriously? That’s why you’re looking like you’ve just done the lifeguard challenge?”

“It was huge, mate, should’ve seen the fucking thing.” Kerrbox made his way to a chair and sat down heavy.

Harries and Maxi wasted no time in getting down to the tunnel to look for this rat. Hoppo patted Kerrbox on the shoulder, trying to show signs of sympathy for his mate, but the grin over his face said it all.

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The cool tiles of the locker room on his bare feet grounded him for just a moment, but it wasn’t enough to calm his racing mind.

Open your locker, take it out, and go to the toilets. Just do it already.

With trembling hands, he opened his locker and carefully located what he was looking for. Hesitating, he closed the locker slowly and allowed himself to feel the cold metal in the palm of his hand. He rested his head on the locker, allowing the coldness of that also to touch his forehead.

I have to do this.

Pushing away from the locker and out the room, it didn’t take long to reach the toilets. He promised himself he’d only do a couple, as he rolled up his boardshorts to expose his thighs that were already littered with scars; some years old, some only by a couple weeks.

The pain was instant, a pressure release, finally. He knew he couldn’t be away for too long; someone was bound to radio him to see where he went. So, he cleaned himself up, returned to the locker room to stash his blade and then walked back onto the beach like nothing happened. A simple routine, filled with stealth, pain and relief. It had become his own little ritual when things went wrong, and god forbid if anyone found out that he of all people were doing this to themselves.

No one can find out.

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Jethro groaned for what seemed like the 10^th time in the space of 5 minutes and he’d only started his shift half an hour ago. Something had not agreed with him. Maybe that takeaway last night wasn’t the best choice looking back on it. He grimaced as he picked up the binoculars to scan the water even though barely anyone was taking a dip; he just wanted to occupy his mind and keep his stomach as settled as possible. Harrison walking in clapping him on the back did not help the situation.

“You alright there, mate? Looking a bit…” Harrison studied Jeff’s face, trying to find the right word to describe the odd paleness, yet pinkish cheeks.

“Think I ate something dodgy” Jethro confessed, a grunt escaping afterwards indicating his discomfort.

Handing him a bottle of water, Harrison tried to give a sympathetic look but a smirk hiding a laugh was definitely obvious.

Jethro took one look at the water bottle, the water inside gently settling after being moved about, and Jeff was out of the tower, beelining it to the toilets.

“Bondi central to the boys, Jethro is out of action for a little while. He and his dodgy stomach have a date with the loos” Harrison chuckled over the radio.

Jethro would not hear the end of this for a while to come.

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Nothing looked that real anymore. Stating out onto the beach from the tower, the world felt…wrong. Things looked fuzzy, people moved robotically, the beach looked like a dream world not reality. Even looking through the binoculars didn’t make things look less like a movie.

“You alright there, mate?” Deano’s voice doesn’t fix the feeling, not even his hand on his shoulder changes how the world looks right now.

“Fine” Singlets’ answer was too short, too sharp; Deano sat down and leaned on the desk to see Singlets’ face.

Singlets’ eyes hadn’t moved, still staring out onto the hazy beach.

“That was a tough resus, you doing okay?” Deano asked how he was again, and what was he meant to say, ‘oh, the beach doesn’t seem real right now?’

Finally tearing his eyes away from the outside, Singlets looked down at his hands and he was unnerved; his hands didn’t look real, didn’t feel like his hands. He breathed in sharply and closed his eyes.

Deano placed his hand gently on Singlets’ shoulder “Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.”

Singlets wanted to say something, tell him how his mind was tricking him, making everything seem unreal, but the words just didn’t come to him.

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Once back on the beach, waves still crashing loudly behind him, Chappo returned the rescue board to its stand, hands shaking. The Rhino was the only place he could retreat to right now as Backpackers was relentless today and he had to be down there.

Gipping the steering wheel with both hands, Chappo tried to ground himself; the rescue went fine, he made it back in once piece with his patient, but still he couldn’t stop the memory resurfacing again. All the feelings from that day rushed back into his body, his mind pulling him back to that rescue where he nearly didn’t make it back.

He wasn’t aware that Hoppo had walked up to him, his voice didn’t cut thought the memory he was re-experiencing. Hoppo’s hand reached out, about to land on Chappo’s shoulder, but it was like Chappo’s body knew this and flinched before the hand touched down. Hand now hovering, Hoppo pulled back, hand finding its place on the buggy instead.

“Chappo, if you can, shift over. Let me drive us back to the tower” Hoppo’s voice seemed miles away.

He didn’t move. If anything, his grip on the wheel tightened, his knuckled turning white. Hoppo could see the tears forming in Chappo’s eyes. He needed to get Chappo out of there but patience and reassurance was what he needed to exercise right now.

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Maxi’s heart was racing, so was his mind.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary that he got a lot of attention from the chicks on the beach. Girls screaming his name, coming up to him asking for a picture. For any 18 year old, it probably would’ve been a dream come true, and Maxi didn’t really mind it, but his priorities were watching the water and rescuing swimmers, not appeasing the female tourists.

So, when two girls came up to him when he was sat in the Rhino down the south end of the beach, he put on a smile and thought nothing much of it. They were fangirling over him, saying that he was their favourite lifeguard and they wanted to spend some time with him. Maxi posed for a photo and that’s when he could smell the faint alcoholic smell on their breath. He told them that he had to turn his attention back to the water and that they should stay hydrated; a simple, caring sentiment to leave them with, he thought, but they were not finished with their photoshoot yet.

The wrapped their arms around him, leaned into the buggy, hands finding their place on his chest and biceps. The uncomfortable feeling grew, and Maxi felt cornered, trapped, unable to tell these girls to back off. Customer service was a part of the package when it came to lifeguarding, so yelling at tourists to get off him might not go down well, with them at least.

His eyes went wide as one of the girls’ hand found its way to a place where it shouldn’t be. He knew this encounter had to end. Now. Trying to stay pleasant, he started up the engine of the buggy and told the girls that he was needed back at the tower asap. They pouted and staggered away just enough for Maxi to get the hell out of there without running them over.

Now, he was in the tower in the first aid area, heart and mind racing. Beardy was in the upper section watching the water and hadn’t noticed Maxi coming in. He took a deep breath, it was over now, and no one had to know what had happened.

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“Come on mate, don’t pass out on me” Hoppo’s voice was thick with concern and quiet determination for his mate who was being half carried, half dragged by him up the tower stairs.

It was a scorcher of a day, team stretched thin and stubbornness a plenty among the team as they ran themselves into the ground with rescue after rescue. Kerrbox hadn’t taken a break for what was probably hours, and dehydration had set in. Deano had noticed from the tower that Kerrbox was swaying slightly and rubbing his temples often. One quick radio call to Hoppo later, and Kerrbox was being guided back to the tower, clearly dehydrated and suffering from a bad headache.

Kerrbox argued he was fine as he nearly tripped on the top step. Once situated in a chair, Hoppo put a bottle of cold water in Kerrbox’s hand “Drink before you fall unconscious.”
Kerrbox listened for once, fatigue and exhaustion coupled with dehydration was putting him close to passing out.

“Cheers, mate” Kerrbox exhaled, half the water already downed.

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The young lifeguards, always keen to impress and prove themselves to the older lifeguards in hopes that one day they will be the older lifeguards training up the trainees. They are expected to communicate effectively with the team and jump in on rescue without hesitation but to also be aware of their surroundings; watch out for danger and preferably not get injured or in trouble themselves.

So, when trainee Harrison finished a textbook rescue and stupidly rolled his ankle dismounting the board too fast and awkwardly, he was determined to keep up appearances and not let any of the others know about his rookie mistake. He knows they would take the piss out of him first before asking if he was actually okay. It was just better to ‘walk it off,’ and that’s what he did… or at least tried to do. He tried not to limp as he carried the board back to the buggy, gladly leaning on the vehicle for support once the board was secured. For the first time since twisting his ankle, Harrison looked down at it and the swelling was already becoming apparent. He swore under his breath, thinking on what to do; he couldn’t realistically carry on, he would put people in more danger by being too slow to get to them, but he didn’t want to radio in his embarrassing and probably preventable injury.

“Oi, you okay there, Harrison?” A voice yelled from behind him. Harries.

“Yeah, yeah… just resting” Harrison plastered a grin across his face to hide his pain.

Harries’ eyes narrowed, noticing the younger bloke was putting more weight on one leg “You sure about that?”

“Totally.”

Raising his eyebrows and glancing at Harrisons foot, Harries was far from convinced “You’re hurt aren’t you, mate?”

Harrison didn’t want to admit it.

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No matter how many rescues, not matter how many lives saved, he never feels like he was enough. He laughed along with the others, joined in on the banter and camaraderie, but when alone, he looked out to the ocean, in his own little world in his head. It’s peaceful but he can’t help feeling like what he’s doing will ever be enough.

Tourists still got into trouble, they still drowned, and they still got themselves into situations on and off the sand. He knows he isn’t superman; he can’t be everywhere at once and save everyone. Still, he thinks that his personal effort isn’t enough, him as a person isn’t good enough.

Never fast enough.

Never witty enough.

Never good enough.

Just never enough.

Chappo sat alone in the tower, the world passing by. He could never shake the feeling of being inadequate, it always pressed down on him like some unseen force. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, wishing away the heaviness he carried of being never enough, but there was never a reprieve.

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Muffled voices came from beside him; blurry figures swam into view as he blinked open his eyes. Jethro groaned as his bleary eyes adjusted to his bright surroundings.

“Wha-“ he tried to speak but his voice came out raspy, his mouth dry.

“Look who’s awake” Hoppo’s voice, less muffled now, reached his ears.

Jethro became aware he was lying in the recovery position on the sand with 3 lifeguards kneeling next to him; Hoppo being one of them and then there was Deano and Mouse. All three had a look of concern but Jethro knew that wouldn’t last long now that he was awake.

“Mate, you hit the deck hard after that rescue” Deano piped up “You were unconscious for 3 minutes.”

“The most accident-prone lifeguard in the service, isn’t that right Jeff” Mouse grinned, his hand landing somewhat gently on Jethro’s shoulder.

“Never a dull moment with you, but in all seriousness, stay still. Ambulance is on the way” Hoppo chimed in.

Jethro sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips. He was going to get teased for days but at least he was in good hands.

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The waves showed no mercy to Yatesy. Even as an experienced lifeguard, he was way in over his head in these conditions, literally. Every wave crashed down on top of him as he paddled to the struggling swimmer. Getting there was only half of the ordeal; getting them on the rescue board and back to shore safely was a whole other challenge.

“This is ridiculous” he muttered to himself, finally dragging the exhausted swimmer onto his board.

As he started the painful paddle back in, the ocean had other ideas. The board rolled, tossing them both into the surf. The board washed up. Yatesy staggered into the shallows not long after. The swimmer was nowhere to be seen.

Yatesy scanned the water as he grabbed his board, he couldn’t see anyone out there. He looked back to the tower, hoping that someone up there could spot something, someone, still out there. The radio he tossed into the sand crackles.

“Bondi central to Yatesy. We can’t see anyone. They’re under for sure.”

The rescue had now turned into a probable body retrieval.

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It was meant to be a harmless prank… meant to be. He laughed, genuinely laughed, when the prank was executed. He admitted it was funny, and he was got good this time, but now alone at home that evening, in the bathroom scrubbing away at the permanent marker that marked his skin, he was close to tears.

Harrison had tried everything, and the marker was fading but some ink remained, frustrating him to no end. His skin was red from all the scrubbing and products used to try and remove the black scribbles, but they were stubborn scribbles.

He sighed, throwing the towel on the bathroom floor and gripping the sink edge with both hands. For now, he admitted defeat, cursing as he exited the bathroom; hands subconsciously rubbing at the smudged ink that remained.

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Hoppo called bullshit as soon as the words left Jethro’s mouth

“It’s fine, I can walk it off” Jethro grimaced as he tried to put weight on his left ankle.

“Yeah nah, mate. Best get it checked out, just to be sure” Hoppo tried to guide the younger lifeguard to the buggy but Jethro was determine to ‘walk it off’ like he said.

It was less of a walk or a step, more of a wobble and a hobble than anything. Hoppo shook his head, a weak smile on his face.

“Jethro, come on, just get in the Rhino.”

“I’m good, I’m good” was Jethro’s response, said through gritted teeth as he tried another step forward which turned into a stumble backwards.

With a sigh, Hoppo grabbed Jethro’s arm and slung it over his shoulder “You’re coming with me.” Slowly, Hoppo guided him to the passenger seat of the buggy.

Jethro rested his clearly sprained ankle, finally admitting defeat.

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“Stay still, mate, and just follow my finger” Deano was frustrated at his patient.

Chappo shifted uncomfortably on the first aid bed, an ice pack in one hand being held to the side of his head “I’m not bloody concussed” he muttered.

“Need to check and make sure” Deano frowned, once again moving his finger back and forth.

“This is pointless and a terrible way of checking for concussion” Chappo protested.

Deano lowered his finger and put his hands on his hips “You’re lucky that cricket ball didn’t land square in your face.”

It was against the rules for ball games to be played on the beach, yet some intoxicated guys tried their luck, hiding down the very south end of the beach with their makeshift cricket set up. Poor Chappo never saw the ball coming. He was walking along the beach one minute and then clutching the side of his head the next, the cricket ball went rouge and none of the guys managed to catch it. The group of lads were kicked off the beach by Hoppo and Harries, while Deano took it upon himself to look after Chappo; Deano was now regretting his decision as Chappo was a difficult patient.

Chappo groaned as he repositioned the ice pack “Alright, yeah, I’m lucky it didn’t strike my face. That would have been a disaster; the face of Bondi squashed by a cricket ball.”

Deano snorted “The face of Bondi? Mate, have you been on the green whistle without me knowing?”

Chappo chuckled weakly “Nah, but might need it. Head’s killing me.”

“Rest, and someone will take you home soon” Deano patted Chappo’s shoulder.

“Thanks” Chappo whispered out, somewhat embarrassed, but still loud enough for Deano to hear.

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Kerrbox hated this. He could have patched himself up but oh no, Hoppo insisted on helping and making sure it was done right. Hoppo was muttering on about getting infections and what not, while Kerrbox gritted his teeth, the scrapes on his leg getting cleaned properly, arms aching with bruises probably forming from his tumble.

“It’s not even that bad” Kerrbox protested, pulling his leg away.

Hoppo’s firm hand grabbed his ankle and steadied the leg “I don’t care. I’m patching you up whether you like it or not.” The cuts weren’t that bad, minimal cleaning and dressing.

“And when I finish patching you up, I swear to god, I’m gonna kick your ass for making me worry about you” Hoppo smirked at his mate, cracking a joke in an attempt to lift the tension. He dabbed the wounds again, making Kerrbox squirm.

“Go kick the rocks at Ben Bucklers, they did this, or kick the bloody tourist I had to go save from there” Kerrbox retaliated, but he knew Hoppo meant well.

Hoppo chuckled but underneath his calm exterior, he couldn’t shake the thought of seeing Kerrbox go down hard on the rocks.