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Logan shivered as he watched the sky darken, small stars beginning to dot along the night sky. He pulled his arms closer to his body, placing his hands in between his legs, his feet tucked tightly underneath him. The thin scraps of linen that made up his shirt and pants, combined with the dampness of the mud he was laying on, were a poor defense against the chill of the night.
He peered up at the sky, and wondered if there may have been a time where he could put a name to the shapes that were painted in front of him. Some nights he had flashes of memories of going out into the woods, with who he thought was maybe his father and brother. But when he tried to look closer at either man, their faces were a blur, no discernable features, no recognizable expressions. Their names were lost, along with whatever the name was for the big spoon in the sky.
Logan wasn’t sure if the memories were a curse or a gift.
He had long lost track of the days and nights that he had been stuck in the pit. He vaguely remembered trying at first, scratching a line into the hard dirt that lined the walls of the pit with his fingernails. But then, he stopped. And he couldn’t remember if it was due to the weakness of his limbs, refusing to cooperate as he starved, or because he simply gave up, as it was another reminder of how long he had been there.
And as the large man told him - how no one was coming to save him.
He let out a bone-rattling cough, his muscles tensing as pain flooded his body from the vibrations. Logan slowly tipped to his right, trying to ease the pressure on what he believed to be a couple broken ribs on his left side. His right arm barely noticed the weight of his body as he settled on the uneven rocks; it had been broken and re-broken so many times that it was in a perpetual state of agony, which Logan managed to block from his consciousness.
He continued to shiver as the night wind picked up, hiding the sounds of the approaching Ghosts.
Logan closed his eyes, praying the same prayer that he did every night.
Maybe this time he would finally be at rest.
*
Merrick had held strong.
He had long decided that if they ever found Logan that he would be the first man in. Merrick had kept this plan to himself, not wanting to waste time arguing over mission details that may never come to fruition when all of a sudden, they did.
A tip came in, verified by a trusted source, that a high-valued POW was being held in the depths of the Brazilian rainforest. The target was unknown, but the scenario described sounded exactly like the methods of torture that the Federation were rumored to employ. So, the Ghosts set out to rescue the POW, every single one of them hoping it was their man.
They never were able to recover Torch or Grim, or even Scarecrow for that matter. And while Ajax’s rescue didn’t end the way Merrick wanted it too, the glimmer of relief in Ajax’s eyes when he realized he was passing amongst friends gave everyone some comfort.
The Ghosts had no idea what they were going to find. And Merrick felt like he owed it to Elias to be the first one down; Elias had had his back since the day they met at Sand Viper. He was the best man that Merrick had ever served under, had ever known. He regretted letting him down in Vegas, and then again when he couldn’t keep Elias’s boys safe.
Once they got to the pit, Merrick had to call rank in order to make it happen. Even still, both Kick and Keegan had to hold Hesh back as Merrick strapped himself up, anchored his tether, and jumped down.
Landing at the bottom, he spotted a body in the back corner, motionless, and feared the worst.
Yanking out the shock blanket, he quickly covered the frail body. It was definitely the youngest Walker, he recognized him immediately despite his pitiful state. His curly blonde hair, once short, now hung past his shoulders, with random patches of baldness scattered over his scalp. Merrick could only assume that his hair had fallen out due to diet…or worse, had been torn out. He was completely naked, his body left exposed to the elements, and even when he touched him, Logan did not move.
If he were being honest, Merrick was expecting to confirm the worst. Instead he felt a small, thready thump under his fingers as he checked Logan’s pulse, relief flooding his body.
“He’s alive!” Merrick shouted, running back towards the centre of the pit, waving for Hesh to come down; it would take two of them to get Logan safely out of there. “He’s alive,” Merrick whispered this time in disbelief, wiping away an errant tear.
Logan was alive.
*
Hesh had been hoping and praying for months that they would find Logan. Often, he would find himself day-dreaming that his brother had escaped and simply walked back onto the base one day. Or of themselves finding Logan, and he and his brother walking out of the Federation hand in hand. Hesh knew that they were ridiculous, but he had leaned on them for so long, and that made reality extremely overwhelming.
He was on autopilot when Merrick called him down, his only mission to get Logan out of that pit. But Hesh knew if it weren’t for Merrick helping to support him, catching him as his legs started to give way at the sight of his brother; if it weren’t Kick’s steady voice in his ear, reminding him to breathe before he passed out, and if it weren’t for Keegan administering the first line of medical care, Logan wouldn’t have made it back in one piece.
Logan didn’t regain consciousness in the helo, or in the infirmary. For two weeks, Hesh sat outside his room, waiting and watching, practically wearing a hole in the seat of the chair.
Hesh wasn’t sure if his mind was looking past the trauma or simply ignoring it; all the wires hooked up to his brother, all the machines carefully monitoring every breath that he took. He knew logically that they were there, but he just didn’t see it. Instead he focused on his brother’s face, desperate for some movement. An eye twitch, the flick of a tongue, a deep breath; at this point Hesh would take anything.
Ever since they arrived back on the base, the medical team commenced a fury of extensive tests to examine the extent of Logan’s injuries. All the medical jargon and rapid fire questions from the medical staff were only confusing Hesh at this stage, all he wanted was Logan to get the base care possible. Instead, he entrusted the paperwork to Keegan, and with his approval, signed the documents which Kick would return back to the doctor, so Hesh and Keegan could continue to keep watch. Maybe it wasn’t the best practice, but it worked for them.
As the days passed, Hesh tried to focus on Logan, but his mind would wander, thinking back over all the decisions he had made since joining the Ghosts. Sometimes he would blame his dad for pulling them into the Ghosts the way he did. Sometimes he would blame Merrick, for letting him call the shots that day. Sometimes he would blame Rorke, who definitely deserved a good chunk of the blame. But more often, he blamed himself. He had failed to protect his brother.
Hesh had started to doze off one afternoon, having watched another rerun of some reality show, only to jolt back awake at the alarms going off in Logan’s room. Leaping to his feet, he pushed his way into the room, but made sure to stay out of the nurses’ way, not wanting to interfere with them helping Logan. But as he took a closer look towards where Logan was laying, he was met with Logan’s blue eyes, open wide and alarmed.
“Logan, Logan, it’s me. It’s Hesh. You’re okay, you’re safe.” Hesh said quickly, but gently. Unable to keep his distance any longer, he squeezed past one of the burlier nurses, and reached out his hand for Logan’s.
Logan tensed, pulling the hospital sheet up a bit higher, his eyes darting around the room. Hesh froze, not even daring to take a breath, waiting for Logan’s next move. The little voice in his head admonished him for scaring Logan, all of his guilt leapt back into his chest, but the sight of his brother, breathing and awake, kept his pain contained.
Then Logan started signing with his one hand, the other still clenched tightly to the thin sheet. It was a bit harder to translate, but it looked like he was asking for the shiny…blanket? What could he mean by the shiny blanket?
Finally, it clicked. The shock blanket Merrick wrapped him in the pit was shiny. Logan must have had some semblance of consciousness when they rescued him.
He started to turn to run to get one, when Logan’s thin, bony fingers clamped around his wrist, pulling hard. Okay then, Hesh thought to himself, turning back towards Logan.
“Do you guys have a shock blanket handy? Like the ones in the med -” Hesh cut himself off, as one of the nurses popped their head in, blanket in their hand. Not even questioning the amazingness of their medical staff, he gratefully took the blanket, and laid it over his brother.
Logan smiled then, his free hand running over the shiny side of the blanket, but his other one stayed wrapped around Hesh’s, even long past him falling back asleep.
*
Kick leaned forward, resting his forearms on his legs as he attempted to get comfortable.
Ever since Logan had woken up, the medical team had only cleared a single visitor for his room at a time, and it had been more or less an argument between the Ghosts over who was going to stay with him and when. Obviously Hesh wanted to stay with Logan, and so did Keegan, but they both needed to sleep, and eat, and generally continue to function as human beings too.
Kick had tried to propose a schedule in an effort to keep everyone functioning, but Merrick and Neptune quickly backed out of the idea, saying that they could wait to see Logan. Which left Kick with juggling Hesh and Keegan.
It eventually got to the point that both men were practically dead on their feet with their round-the-clock schedule they were trying to keep that Kick finally ‘kicked’ them out of the room, informing them both that they weren’t allowed back until they had at least two full meals, a shower, and twelve hours of sleep.
Tucking his hands back into Hesh’s hoodie, Kick leaned back into the chair as he continued to examine Logan from afar. He was starting to put some weight back on and colour was returning to his face, which was great. Kick remembered all too well holding a sobbing Hesh in his arms when Logan was begging for food and they couldn’t give him any until his stomach could handle it. He’d rather never repeat that experience.
Logan was now sporting a buzz cut similar to Hesh’s, which had Kick doing a bit of a double take when he first saw the Walker brothers in the same room. Generally Kick thought the two of them looked rather distinct from one another, but now with the matching buzz cuts and the matching beanies that Logan had ‘talked’ Hesh into loaning him, they looked more like twins.
Sensing that someone was watching him, Kick looked up, locking eyes with Logan. He didn’t break the gaze, even though it felt a bit awkward, not wanting to make many sudden moves. Logan seemed like he was looking for someone else though, so Kick felt pressed to speak.
“I kicked them both out, told them they needed to eat and rest,” he explained quietly, fiddling with the front pocket of the hoodie.
Logan raised his fingers to his lips and quickly dropped them back down, which Kick recognized to be the sign for ‘good’. Kick shifted in his chair, cognizant that Logan was still staring at him, but wasn’t sure why. He only knew enough sign language for the basics, planning on bugging Hesh for more lessons once everything settled back down again. But then Logan was gesturing with his own shirt, and Kick caught on to his meaning.
“Yeah, it’s Hesh’s,” he confirmed, blushing slightly at Logan’s responding smirk. “I know some people think it’s corny, but…” Kick paused, unsure of whether or not to say the next bit, but pushed through, figuring that Logan deserved the honesty, “it makes me feel loved, you know?”
Logan nodded, pointing to his beanie in response.
“Now that, you can definitely keep,” Kick said with a chuckle. He had tried wearing Hesh’s hat a few times, particularly during certain activities, but they both ended up laughing too much at the sight to carry through with any of Kick’s plans. Definitely a no-go.
Kick sat with Logan for another few hours, mostly in silence, before receiving a notification that Keegan had completed all of his requirements and was currently heading back to the room.
“You know, Logan, I’m sure there’s someone else on base that would love to loan you their sweatshirt,” he suggested at the last moment, before heading out to switch with Keegan, not letting Logan respond. Perhaps it might help cheer Keegan up too.
*
Logan shuffled down the hallway, trailing behind Keegan who was carrying the small handful of possessions he had accumulated during his stay in the med bay. Riley was walking right by his side so closely that he could feel the dog’s warmth. He found himself leaning into it from time to time, grateful for the constant reminder of where he was.
Now that he was on a normal diet again, and with all of his major injuries healed, there was no reason for him to continue to occupy a bed that someone else might need. Keegan had explained that since he was still recovering, Merrick would let him have his room so he wouldn’t have to put up with sharing a bunk space, and Logan had nodded along, trying to ignore his rising panic.
There were lots of things that reminded him of the pit. Mentions of Rorke’s name or the Federation in general. If someone moved too quickly or made a loud sound. Rain. Rain was one of the worst reminders. But what reminded him the most of the pit was being alone. He didn’t want to be alone.
Logan tucked his hands up the sleeves of his too-big sweatshirt, or rather, Keegan’s too-big sweatshirt. He hadn’t been able to directly ask for it, although he had wanted to after Kick’s suggestion several weeks ago, but one day Keegan offered it to him and he simply hung onto it. It was his now.
Lost in his thoughts, Logan didn’t notice that Keegan had stopped in front of the room, until he bumped right against his back.
“Sorry,” Logan mumbled, shifting over to pet Riley, grounding himself as he recovered from the unexpected contact. Surprised that Keegan had stopped rambling, Logan looked up to see Keegan’s shocked expression, and then quickly realized what had just happened. He hadn’t talked since they rescued him, not even to Hesh, but it felt like a normal thing to apologize to Keegan.
It felt like a normal thing, Logan couldn’t help but repeat in his head, a small smile beginning to form on his face as he continued to look at Keegan. “Sorry?!” Logan repeated, a bit louder this time, his smile turning into a huge grin as a matching grin appeared on Keegan’s.
“It’s okay,” Keegan finally said, answering Logan’s apology, only to frown when Logan started to shake his head no.
“No, no, it’s not okay,” Logan said, out loud again, still in disbelief that his vocal cords finally wanted to work. “I’m almost crying because it felt like a normal thing to say sorry to you, and that’s not really okay,” Logan rambled, reaching out to grab Keegan’s elbow, but settling for his sleeve instead, unsure if more contact might be triggering. “But what’s definitely not okay is me being in this room alone.”
“I’m sure Hesh would -”
“You. I want you in my room,” Logan blurted out, turning beet red as the implications of what he said rolled through his mind. “I mean, in another bed. For now. Just for now.” He quickly clarified. He wanted to elaborate that eventually, he wanted them in the same bed, he wanted Keegan’s strong arms wrapped around him, his lips on his, but held back. There would be plenty of time for those discussions later.
Not even bothering to wait for Keegan’s response, confident that it would be a yes, Logan started to head towards where Keegan had indicated his room was. It wasn’t long before he heard Riley’s tags jingling and Keegan’s steps as they followed him down the hall.
Later that evening, as Logan settled under the covers, Riley’s furry body across his feet, and Keegan within arm’s reach, Logan felt a warmth, a comfort that he really hadn’t been sure he would ever feel again.
And for once, a belief that everything would be okay, after all.