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writingwarden · 5 months

Note

Hiiiiiii!! Logan's been taking over my brain alot lately.

I was thinking what if reader is the one to save him from Rorke?

[A/N]- YEP. Took this one and R A N across the field with it. Enjoy!

Logan Walker x Reader

Cracks in the Glass

TW- being stabbed, torture, physically fighting to blow off steam, blood, minor and Major character death (not Reader or Walker brothers), Canon typical violence, revenge, verbal fighting, let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count- 6.5k

Callsign-COBRA

Sand and blood cake onto any uncovered skin it can reach. A series of explosions rouses you from your sleep, pain blooming from your lower abdomen. From the ground where you lay flat on your stomach, gear digging uncomfortably into your skin, you raise your head enough to see through blurred eyes three figures. Two sitting against a rock and one walking towards where they sat.

Where were you?

Oh fuck right, Rorke. Checkmate. Hesh and Logan!

Slowly and painfully you force your limbs to move, crawling to the figures who were sitting down. A coughing fit wrecks through your body, blood splattering the sand beneath you. What the fuck? Dragging your body up onto its knees, arms barely holding the weight. A slow glance down reveals a deep stab wound, the knife still embedded in your body, right above the hip bone. Muscle and skin shredded from the serrated blade Rorke had plunged into you in the struggle that had occurred after he shot Hesh and tried to go after Logan.

Blood congealed with the sand, hardening into a crude sludge around the blade, at least you wouldn’t bleed out as fast. Another yell rings out from in front of you.

“Cobra!” Hesh’s voice reaches your ears. Looking up, Hesh was trying to sit up further against the rock, the gunshot wound preventing him from running to you or Logan. The third figure was getting closer. The closer they got, the more pronounced their limp was. Was that… fuck!

Pointing past Hesh to where Logan lay sprawled on the sand, “Hesh look!” you call out. Hesh looks over just in time to see Rorke knock the knife out of Logan’s hand, his boot pinning the other man’s arm into the sand. Hesh makes a frantic scurry to get Rorke off of Logan, but Rorke kicks him away.

More explosions shake the ground. You can see Rorke’s mouth moving, see him getting in Logan’s face. Another surge of adrenaline courses through your veins. With the last of your energy, you pull the knife from your stomach. Arms shaking and vision blurring once again, you throw the knife, Logan's name escaping your mouth. There was just enough force in the throw to graze Rorke’s arm, he stops talking and whips his head around to stare directly into your eyes. You swear there was amusement written across his features as he stands and begins shuffling towards you.

“Well would you look at that! The snake still has fangs!” He stands over you, “You may be as promising one day as Logan.” The sing-song tone when he says Logan's name makes your blood run cold. You wish you had a gun or anything to wound the monster in front of you. But you wouldn’t get the chance, a heavy kick to your stomach has you falling back down, screams ripping from your throat. Laughter from above you as your vision clouds with black spots. You knew you were going to pass out.

Words were being spoken to you but they were hard to make out over the pounding in your head. “...ever again, Cobra.” Another kick and your consciousness fades away, the sounds of Hesh screaming for his brother the last thing you hear.

– — —-

You were met with a screaming match as you entered the war room.

It has been a week since Logan was taken and you and Hesh had been rescued from the beach. This was the first time out of the medical wing since then. They had been forced to lock both of you in a private hospital room with guards posted outside of the door. You had fought the nurses as they tried to help you, your mind having not been in the right state. All you knew was that your Logan had been taken by the very man that was supposed to have died on that train. They had been forced to sedate you before they could help fix the various injuries you had acquired in your adrenaline fueled revenge.

The nurse told you the extent of your injuries after you had calmed down. The grand total was two broken ribs, the stab wound, and a concussion. She had said how lucky you were to have only gotten those injuries multiple times, but you sure as hell didn’t feel lucky.

Coming back into the land of the living you had been surprised to see Hesh in the same room. What was even more of a surprise was that you had both been handcuffed to your beds! Soon you learned they had to do almost the same thing to contain him. Except this time Merrick had to tackle him back onto the stretcher, while you only required being held down.

Man, had Merrick and Keegan ripped you both a new one. For your reckless actions to your fighting the nurses. Every conversation since had everyone either walking on eggshells or ready to tear each other apart.

He had tried to leave right after that but had been stopped by the two soldiers that had been tasked with being your “guards”. All they did was stand in front of the door and occasionally helped the nurses.

Hesh was the more defiant of you two. He wouldn’t settle, the only thought on his mind was once again Rorke and rescuing his brother. Finding Rorke, Killing Rorke, Burning Rorke’s body after dumping an entire magazine into the body, never letting Logan out of either of your sights. He was restless. They eventually had to cuff him again to the bed to stop him from aggravating his gunshot wound further, you were behaving enough that they didn’t feel you needed to join him in his “imprisonment”.

“It’s bullshit, Cobra.” He kept saying. Loathing the fact they weren’t letting either of you out, “We should be out there looking for him!” or “We’ll get him back.” Words spit with venom and promise. The terms bull-headed and impulsive were thrown back at him several times.

Your own anger had been barely contained. You shoved it into a glass box, not hiding it or burying it, but putting it on display. Crystal clear glass revealing the hatred inside of it like an art museum would display a delicate artefact. You knew that one of you had to appear level headed or they would never let you out to search for him. They would deem you both unstable and unfit for any further duty. And you couldn’t have that; Not yet. After you had rescued Logan and ensured his safety, they could all go to hell for any matter. But only after you healed and Logan was safe with you and Hesh.

And reality was that neither of you were in any shape to fight. While medical technology had improved drastically, there was only so much they could do for a stab wound and gunshot. And Merrick had told you they were doing their best to find him with the extremely limited information they had. The federation had been scattered in the wind after the last attack. Information had become even less reliable than before.

Hesh had picked the locks on his handcuffs if the bent paper clip and missing man were anything to go off of when you woke up from your nap.

Which was what brought you limping to the doorway of the war room.

“We need to be out there and looking for him!” Hesh was standing, a crutch supporting him, in front of Merrick, who looked ready to explode.

Merrick clenched his fist where it sat against the table full of maps and files. The radio in the middle of the table, quiet but full of chatter. Location markers and notes had been scribbled all over. Keegan sat at the table, typing furiously at the tablet in his hands. They both looked like you felt.

Looking around the rest of the room you saw that Kick was nowhere to be found. But that was not uncommon, he really liked his solitude. He was probably on the other side of the base.

Looking back over at Keegan, you found him staring at you. Shooting a questioning look at him, hoping to get some answer out of him. His response is an exasperated look and a shrug of the shoulders. Well, that’s always a good sign, You thought frustratedly.

The arguing continued as you walked further into the room, finally standing opposite of the two who remained going back and forth and had yet to notice you. Keegan clears his throat pointedly and they look over, meeting your gaze. Taking advantage of the moment you began, “Care to explain?” You already knew what Hesh was trying to accomplish and you knew exactly what Merrick was trying to reason. You know that both sides had their points, guess it's time to be the mediator. But you knew Hesh was always stubborn, usually to the point that it always ended with a punch being thrown. Which it might. From where you stand, that is what it looks like.

Hesh has a pleading look in his eye as he turns to you, “Cobra you gotta help, we need to be out there! Looking for him!”

Looking from him to Merrick, you motion for him to say his part, “What do you got?”

Merrick sighs loudly; clearly annoyed, “We have a possible lead on one of the Federation colonels who might know where Rorke is hiding. But we don’t know for sure and we can’t just rush in half-cocked!” He shoots a glaring look at Hesh. “We need more time.”

Hesh throws his free hand up, “We don’t have more time to waste!” He opens his mouth to say more when Merrick holds in hand up in a way that told you there would be no room for arguing anymore.

“We have people on the ground, searching,” he says slowly but firmly, like he is trying to drive to point in with a hammer (and you two are the nails), “You two are in no condition to be back in the field.” Hesh moves like he is about to interrupt but Merrick fixes him with a stare. You can see a decision being made behind his eyes. “With your injuries, if we do find him before you are healed you could pose a hindrance to the operation and very well get Logan killed and let Rorke get away. Again.”

Silence overtakes the room. A deathly silence, one only used when mourning the dead or for prayer before the final strike. The radio had faded into nothing behind the previously reigned in rage that was suffocating you. Cracks were forming in the glass, that feral and primal anger rearing its ugly head, bashing it into the material holding it captive.

You know he’s right, this is the rational and secure way to do things. But if you were any more of a suicidal person, you’d be bashing his skull into the edge of the table. Small tremors shake your body where you stand and your fists clench. He was right and you were still acting irrationally. So why did you itch to bury one of your knives into his throat?

In the corner of your eye you see Keegan moving slowly, the tablet on the table and his hand ready to grab the gun from his hip. You needed to defuse this before Hesh gets you both thrown into jail, if the way his shoulders were tensing and his fist was clenching were anything to go off of.

“Hesh… Merrick’s right.” The look Hesh shot in your direction, you could have sworn you had just personally stabbed him. Ignoring the look of betrayal you take a shaky breath in, “We need to be fully functional for any of this to go right. Rorke will get his, but do you think Logan would want us to be killed trying to find him because we wouldn’t listen to orders?” A low blow to bring up Logan in that way again, but hey, when they go low, you grab a shovel and dig a hole in hell.

A moment passes, Hesh now looks like he wants to hit you instead. Let him feel angry at me. You think to yourself, you two could deal with this later. Hell, maybe even brawl to settle it out like old times. The air remains tense but Keegan sits back down, just as carefully as he had stood.

You stare ahead at Merrick as Hesh shoulders forcefully past you and out of the room. You take the shove with grace, not bothering to look back or follow him. You knew exactly where he would be going anyways. Let him have time to cool down before you approach him again.

You stand there staring ahead as Merrick sits down in the chair next to him. He rubs both hands over his face before addressing you, “Need something, Cobra?”

You hesitate before speaking, trying to find the right questions. “What do we have so far?” is what you settle on. Keegan slides the tablet over to you. The screen shows a list of names and locations. Federation higher ups and high value targets that should be in disarray now. You place the tablet on the table and begin to look over the maps. A talent of yours that made you a great interrogator was your empathy. “If I was a homicidal, revenge led Ghost killer, where would I brainwash the youngest kid of my ex brother-in-arms?” You wonder out loud, missing the weird glance the two men shared. “Somewhere remote,” you think about the habits and patterns Rorke showed, “Somewhere sedimental. I’d want it to bring back memories of betrayal.”

– — —-

The knife split the man's throat open like a hot knife through butter. He had finally given you Rorke's exact location and a pure feral feeling was coursing through your blood. Finally after two months of your Logan being gone, did you have a location.

After being cleared for light work (aka being back in the killing field) after the fight, you had set your heart and soul on gathering information and taking out several high ranking Federation soldiers. Each had crack eventually under your carefully sharpened knives. Interrogation had been a skill that had come naturally to you. It was an art, one that you had perfected quickly.

It was the skill that had landed you a spot on Ghost Team. Elias had chosen you along with the brothers. He cited your skills and bond you had from a childhood growing up with the brothers as his reason for bringing you along. He claimed you kept them levelled and that the damn near telepathic bond you had with Logan made you valuable on Ops. Which was true; your parents had been close friends of Elias, which made you best friends with the Walker boys by default.

Hesh was the most outgoing of the trio. Always talking to new people and preferring to hang out at the more crowded skate parks. He’d drag you and Logan everywhere and who were you two to deny him? He was a guardian to you until you had physically outgrown him by becoming a full two inches taller than him. Something he still had yet to “forgive” you for.

But it was Logan that you had really clicked with. The boy was of very few words; a selective mute. But that did not hinder your ability to communicate, a mix of sign language and your own secret nonverbal language. Which mainly consisted of micro expressions and body language. You two could hold an entire conversation with just your eyes. It had always confused the hell out of the rest of your squads.

And so what if you had come to have feelings for the youngest Walker? It feels as natural as an ocean wave crashing onto a sandy beach. You had planned on never telling him, or hell, maybe you would have in due time. But now that he had been taken before you could confess, you were damned sure that the moment he was safe and healing was the moment you’d tell him. You would get to tell him, damn it all, even if you had to drag his ass back into the land of the living with your bare hands.

A hand on your shoulder pulled you back into the present. “Cobra, we need to get going.” Hesh said quietly. Suddenly aware that you had been staring holes into the dead body you shrug his hand off your shoulder and turn on your heel. You two still haven’t talked, instead opting to push yourselves further into training, into becoming stronger. He threw himself and sometimes Riley into working out. Often you would find him running the track in the middle of the night. Some nights you’d join him. Others you’d slink off into the range. Forcing yourself to become better with both gun and knife. The conversation had yet to be had and it was eroding at the years of being a perfect pair- trio. There were three of you and you’d be dead before you’d let that change.

Shaking those thoughts from your head, you look up to see the rest of the team waiting for you by the doors of the old house you had dragged the Federation soldier into.

Looking to where Merrick stood, his stance told you he expected you to say something. “So I was right. You know for such a violent brainwashed bastard he sure is sedimental.”

You had been right in your guess. He would hold Logan at the old jungle compound where the Federation had broken Rorke and twisted him into their own personal ghost hunter. But that place had been raided and every one of the enemy personnel had either been killed or thrown into prison. As far as anyone knew, it was abandoned. It was too little of a possible reward to venture that far into the jungle. Oh what fools you were to hope otherwise.

A groan and nod were Merrick’s answer. I was really hoping you weren't.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “I mean, they torched the place after. I can’t imagine much of it still stands. Son of a bitch.”

“Yeah…” You let the implications of everything you had just learned sink in. Eyes meet with Hesh’s, no words are spoken but an agreement is made. That barely closed glass box of rage continues to crack. Just got to hold it together, just a little while longer. One foot in front of the other, Cobra.

– — —

The foliage is thick as you creep closer to your designated position. The sounds of the forest and chatter of Federation soldiers deafened by the leafy canopies above your heads. Keegan leads the way, revenge and relief are now so close at hand. But you have to start the plan before anything else can happen. Two months of searching, you can Not fuck this up, Logan’s life depends on it. Depends on You and Hesh to keep your cool long enough to complete your tasks and locate the pit he would no doubt be in.

Keegan holds his hand up, telling you to halt. Flexing your fingers where they lay on your rifle, ready to fire at a moment's notice. The moment passes before he’s motioning to keep moving.

As you resume your walk, Hesh slides up next to you, footsteps falling in time with your own. “We still in agreement on what happens when we find him?” His voice is low, still as tense as it had been since the beach.

You glance up at Keegan, who you know is listening, before you respond just as quietly. “I get first blows while you secure Logan. Then you get the killing blow while Keegan keeps overwatch. I haven't forgotten, David.” The words come out harsher than they were meant to but again, that's how most of the words from your mouth had sounded recently.

Hesh doesn't respond, usually his first name gets a rise out of him. A true testament to how he's feeling right now. Silence takes over again as your group keeps marching on.

The next few minutes are a blur as Ghost team and Marines descend on the compound. Body after body falls as you push in. Sinking into your mind further and further as bullets zip past you. One even grazing your ear but it only serves to piss you off more. That glass box has burst open, red rage flowing out, drowning anything in its path.

You'd imagine Hesh is feeling the same, watching him sink a knife into a federation soldier as your group rounds a corner.

Finally you come to it, the courtyard with a single hole dug in the earth. Logan was in it. Your shoulder aches from the recoil of your rifle, fingers numb. But it doesn't matter.

Your team makes quick work of the enemies that attempt to stop you. Clearing the surrounding areas, your Marines holding position in each entrance. Looking up to the exposed second floor you see Keegan’s team.

Your radio crackles as Keegan’s voice comes through, “Eyes on Logan, proceed with caution. Rorke's got a gun to his head.”

Your eyes lock with Hesh's. Then you're moving, rushing forward to the hole, fingers on the trigger. Skidding to a stop above it, the sight inside damn near breaks you right there.

Logan on his back, caked in blood, dirt, and who knows what else as Rorke stands with his foot planted on his chest, pistol pointing at Logan's head. The sick motherfucker has a smile on his face, his eyes trained on you and Hesh.

A low growl comes from the man next to you. “It's over Rorke! No escape from here, you son of a bitch.” Hesh calls down. Part of you thinks he's about to abandon the entire plan for dumping all of his ammunition into Rorke. But he doesn't.

“You know,” the monster below you begins to drawl, like this was a normal conversation, “I didn't expect you to make it; the snake, sure. But you,” He points a finger at Hesh, “I expected you to die just like your da-”

A shot rings out, then another as Rorke's hands cease to be connected to his body; Keegan and his partner’s bullets hitting their marks. That was the cue for you two to get on with it.

Jumping into the pit you plant your feet firmly into Rorke's chest, rolling forward off of him as he hits the ground. Turning around you lunge forward on top of Rorke. Rearing your fist back then bringing it down onto his face. Over and over; blow after blow lands on the man who made your life hell. The monster who killed the man that saved you after ODIN, the monster that took and tortured your Logan.

His attempts to fight back are futile, the full front of your rage holding him there. His face becomes unrecognisable by the time Hesh grabs your shoulder. The signal to switch with him. One last punch and you're standing up, swaying on your feet.

Hesh takes your place as you rush over to Logan. Your hands frantically search over his body, cataloguing the visible injuries. Bruises mottle the skin not covered in blood or dirt. His name and promises to help him fall like prayers from your lips.

Finally you place your hands on either side of his face, willing him to look at you. His eyes are swollen and cloudy, no doubt from whatever they drugged him with. It was strange, the way his face was almost completely untouched. But you don't get much time to dwell on it as sharp movements in your peripheral.

Logan’s blood covered hands shoot quickly to your face. Panic in his suddenly clear eyes, the word “Go!” and “Run.” were being silently screamed at you. His mouth moves but only raspy gibberish comes out. You grab his hands as they hold your head, fingers tangling in your hair forcing you to stay looking at him. “Logan! Logan it’s us! We’ve got you, he’s dead. He’s dead!” You are sure that he couldn’t hear you as hysteria begins to creep in.

But the recognition was undeniable, just for a split second before they're rolling back into his head. His body begins convulsing violently as his hands slip from yours. Screams for a medic, for somebody, rip from your throat. One of the medics lands on their knees next to you but you can't move your limbs. All you can do is stare as the seizure happens.

Then hands are pulling you away from him. You fight against them before another pair is wrapping under your arms and pulling more. Someone is screaming your name but it sounds miles away. The only input reaching your mind is the sight of Logan, being surrounded by medics as you are taken further away from where he lies.

The glass box was gone, only shards and small puddles remain. Your mind clears enough to realise that it’s Hesh whose arms are wrapped around your torso, holding you back. Turning around in his grip you shove your entire being to his in a constrictor like hug.

Blood spatters cover every bit of armour and skin he has, the Ghost paint smeared with red. His eyes are wide, feral as he watches the scene now behind you.

Rorke's battered corpse lying behind, riddled with bullet holes from Hesh dumping his entire mag into him was all you could focus on.

Keegan stands over it, looking at his ex brother in arms, eyes blank. Merrick jumps down next to him and delivers a swift kick to the corpse.

– — —

Life continues as normal on base. The only shifts in the routine now were four Ghosts, taking their turns watching over their youngest in the hospital bed he lays.

In the beginning, it was you and Hesh refusing to leave Logan's bedside. Only leaving in shifts to deal with the bare minimum of your duties and body's needs. Eating and sleeping next to him. The hospital staff had dragged in another chair when it was clear neither of you would be leaving.

It was once again Merrick that forced you both away to deal with yourselves. The other three Ghosts had made a deal that there would always be one of them watching over him if you or Hesh couldn't.

And they stayed true to that promise. A knock drags you out of your thoughts. Keegan stands in the doorway, “Come on, it's my turn.” He enters further into the room, a knowing look in his eyes as he takes in your hand holding onto Logan's.

“You did good, kid. He's here and he's not going anywhere till he's better.” His words were meant to sooth but tears sting your eyes. It seems like since you've gotten back that you just can't stop crying.

Reluctantly you let go of Logan's hand and stand up, but your feet don't move. Not until Keegan places his hand on your arm with a promise to get you if anything happens. Then you're walking out the door and down the hallway.

It’s late, nearing midnight as you approach the smaller gym rooms knowing exactly who’s in there at this hour. Ignoring the Private Session sign on the door you enter quietly. Hesh is on the other side, fists slamming into the sandbag. The only greeting you get is a falter in his punches before he's back at it.

Looking over to the benches you see Riley curled up underneath. The dog huffs a greeting as you walk over and sit down. Hands sliding across his fur.

This has been both of your normal nights since Logan was taken and you just couldn't let it go even though he was home safe. The routine is comforting though your body aches from pushing past your limits.

It started with Hesh showing up at your door during the night, dressed in his gym clothes with Riley at his heels. No words were spoken as you invited him in and changed into your own gym attire. The cold air countering the heated anger as you ran around the city.

Then it was that someone had pissed you off enough that you had dragged your body to the gym, intent to hit and throw things until you felt better. But that plan had been ruined by Hesh, who was already there, doing just that.

That's when the first screaming match had happened. And the screaming led to blows being exchanged. The feeling of beating on each other was cathartic.

So it became the routine, if one couldn't sleep then they were to drag the other (who likely wasn't sleeping) from their rooms then either run or spar. No one has stopped this so far, only looked at you with a knowing (disappointed?) look and move on.

The thudding stops and a loud sigh comes from across the room. Looking up just as he crosses the room and slumps on the bench next to you. Exhaustion visibly pulls at him the same way it does on you.

“Feel up for it.” He motions to the mats in the middle of the room. You take note that his hands are bare and bleeding as you shake your head. Instead opting to slide down on the floor and lay flat looking up at the ceiling. “Yeah that's fair. We can do floor time.”

He slides down onto the ground and lays his head next to yours, body laying the other way. Such as most nights, no words are shared. At least for the first hour.

Then he's speaking, “Did I tell you the time he managed to steal one of the neighbours dogs and no one noticed for hours?” You did this often, recounting stories of Logan. Funny, sad, plain boring; it didn't matter. He loved to tell the more calm ones while you opted to spill the hijinks the pair of you committed.

“I don't think I remember that one.” You did but you liked to humour him. He launches into the story, talking with his hands in the air, you laugh and make comments.

“You should have seen the proud look dad had while Logan apologised. I swear the lady's head was gonna explode, she was so red!” he laughs through the words.

You look up at him, “Yeah, that tracks. You and your dad were always enabling our bullshit.”

He lets out a slow sigh and lets the buzz of the overhead lights and occasional footsteps fill the space. You were content to let them do so but there was eating at your thoughts.

“I love him.” You had told him before in a fit. He had barely understood you the first time you said it, had been borderline hysterical, expecting him to hate you. “I know” he had said. Called you right stupid for not saying it sooner.

His hand appears in the air above your face and you're too tired to care as he brings it down and palms your entire face, like something straight out of Alien. He shakes your head back and forth before he lets go. “I know, you know you're going to have to tell him eventually, right?”

It was your turn to sigh, “I know, dude. I know.”

– — —

It’s one of those nights where you and Hesh are on watch at the same time. It was rare but it does happen. Logan has been in a medically induced coma for a month now. It's Hesh's turn to go get you both dinner, so you get to take up watch over Logan.

(The eldest brother opted to leave Riley with you. The dog takes up his usual post at the door, ever the guardian.)

Grabbing his hand, something that had become a habit. You start recounting the day's events, another thing you both had taken up. Talking to the sleeping man, telling him the base gossip and telling him how the day went, how Riley and the team are, everything you could think of you talked about.

“Then he made them run laps. He's shaping up nicely for that Captain role he's heading for.” You laugh, explaining how Hesh oversaw today's training. “He gets that promotion and we're set to get away with so much shit, Lo.”

He made no movements, the only sound to respond was the steady beat of the vitals monitor. You let loose a breath and place your head down on the bed next to his hand. “Wake up soon, please.” You plead into dead air, “He needs you. I need you.”

Time passes slowly, Hesh taking his sweet time getting that food. Must be Chilli Night in the mess. That always caused the place to be packed. Your mind wanders all over the place, what was it that one sergeant had said? When was Merrick going to send you back into the field, you were already on borrowed time. A thousand things plague your thoughts; it was beginning to give you a migraine.

The hand in yours twitches. You sit up so fast your back twinges. Ignoring that you stare down at your hand, did you imagine that? “Logan?” You murmur, looking up at his sleeping form and you gasp. His eyes were fluttering open. Standing up you lean over him hopefully, “Logan? You with me?”

Your heart starts racing as those same eyes open and land on you. Reaching up to hold his face but you're interrupted by a harsh grip on your arm. “Lo?” You ask shakily, staring at the place he has in his grasp.

“R-run!” The word was urgent, the beeping of the heart monitor became louder, quicker. Fear shines brightly through his eyes as they dart around the room, underlined with confusion.

You grip over his hand, “No no no, Logan you're safe! We're home!” His fingers dig into your skin as he starts shaking. With fear that he is going to start having another seizure you turn your head around to call for help. But you're met with the frozen forms of Hesh and Merrick standing in the doorway.

Quickly you call to him, “Get help!” Your voice was high, panic beginning to creep in. The trays fall out of his hands as he steps back out and starts shouting for help. Merrick starts for the bedside but you wave him off, not wanting to overwhelm the already panicking man.

Directing your attention back to Logan you can almost see the dots beginning to connect as he stares past you, to where Hesh just stood. You should for Hesh, yelling his voice as loud as you can.

The tall man comes running full tilt back to the room, almost skidding past the door. “Logan!” He shouts and you have to stop yourself because it was the same scared scream from the beach. He sprints over to the bed, grabbing Logan's other hand, trying to soothe the man into the present.

Logan's mouth is moving, repeating “Not real” as he flickers his eyes from you to Hesh.

You both start speaking at the same time, trying to tell him it is real, that this is real. Someone else enters the room. But you don't look away from Logan as his grip on your arm begins to loosen. Slowly and suspiciously (?) he starts to lay back into the bed.

It's only when he's retracted his arm away fully and is now sitting reclined in the bed that you breathe a full breath. Nurses flutter around you checking his vitals and tweaking his pain meds. Your eyes never leave his except to look over at Hesh, who sits there determined to not leave unless absolutely necessary.

Eventually the buzz dies down, Merrick having stepped out to make a few calls. Either way, you were glad for the privacy. Neither of you had let go of his hands, afraid that it would be a dream.

His fingers entwined with yours had those emotions stirring violently in your chest.

Hesh had been catching him up to speed on everything, thankfully omitting the violent way the two of you coped. You had just been nodding along and speaking up occasionally to add in if Hesh forgot something.

Logan, he just sat there, taking everything in. He had been quiet since the nurses left, not asking questions or only speaking in clipped words. Your eyes flit down to his throat, a ring of rope burn now healed.

His eyes catch yours, a small smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. Oh, how you missed that smile.

Hesh clears his throat, catching your attention. He waits for you both to look at him before speaking, “I dropped our dinner. I'm going to run to the corner store and grab us something.” He stands from his chair and walks over, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. A whisper of “Tell him.” and then Hesh is gone, Riley at his heels.

Turning back to Logan, you place your head against your hands. You needed to tell him, the confession trapped behind your teeth. You look back up at him and let go of his hands reluctantly, doubt tugging at the forefront of your mind. You had just gotten him back, what if you lose him now? There would be no way to cope with that, but he would be alive to hate you and you were fine with that.

“I-” You start, “I love you, Logan.” The words themselves are not strangers to you. They were said so regularly throughout your life, so the look you got from him was no surprise.

He drums his fingers against the hospital bed and hums, “Love you too.”

A stressed sigh leaves your mouth and you find yourself staring into his eyes again. “No Lo, I love you.” The words emphasised, “I'm sorry for not telling you before and I'm sorry if you don't feel the same but I was going to be damned before I let you leave before telling you.” The confession is quick as you look away from him.

An amused huff answers you and then a hand was grabbing your face again. This time is so much more gentle. Nothing like the harsh grip that had come to plague your dreams. Letting him pull you to look at his face. There's fondness in place of the rejection you had feared.

He pulls you closer and you let him. Your face now hovering over his. And then his lips are on yours. And then you're melting against him, careful not to put weight on his injuries.

In that moment there's nothing else in the world. No war, no cold hospital room, just two scar riddled childhood friends who were becoming something more.