#core drive

 “C’mon, you know the drill, yeah?” - From Part 12 of ISY 

She thought it would be okay. - From Part 2 of Point of No Return 

It was intimidating. - From Part 3 of Point of No Return

Navina stuck close to Firo’s side as he expertly navigated the crowded streets of Coronet City.- From Part 8 of Resol’nare

A dry wind blew across the arid lava flats, his cape whipping behind him as he focused the lens of his visor on the horizon. - From Part 9 of Resol’nare 

He noticed right away. - From Hokan’yc, a Resol’nare One-Shot 

She stared at the blip on the screen in utter disbelief. - From Part 3 of From Here, an ISY Companion Series 

The sky outside the wide front window was turning a dark denim shade of indigo and the shop windows were either blinking out, or glowing with the yellow-orange halos that surrounded string lights and Edison bulbs.- From Part 6 of Passing Through, chapter title: Chain Laws 

“What do you think, Logan?” - From Simplify: Forever 

“Are you…” your breath caught as his fingertips gently skimmed over your temple, pushing a few wayward strands out of your face. - From Part 5 of See You in New York 

His heart thudded to an abrupt stop as he read the word at the top of the screen. - From Accepted, a Core Drive One Shot 

He squeezed the lime wedge from the rim of his glass into his drink, tossing the rind in to let it float with the ice cubes before raising it to his lips and taking a long sip. - From Core Drive 2.01

“Are you sure you shouldn’t,” he kissed the top of your head, hands moving up and down your arm and back as he continued to speak.- From Part 1 of Not If Its You, a TGTBT follow up 

Emerging from your dream as though surging to the surface of the sea after spending too long below the waves, you bolted upright with a deep gasp that burned your lungs - From Part 2 of The Last Dream

Although several layers of fabric separated your warm skin from his, Caspian’s fingers moved carefully over the ribbing of your bodice, imagining how it would feel to glide over your rib cage instead. - From Part ??? of In the Arms of The Ocean 

Billy pounded on the door in front of him with his left fist, his right scrolling swiftly through his phone to find the contact he was looking for.- From Part 1 of Damned if I Do 

He rose before the sun most days, starting his routine in the early morning darkness. - From The Devil is in The Details 

It had never happened before. - From The Sacrifice 

The sky was too bright to call dark, lit up by innumerable stars. - From Part 1 of Nice and Spiced 

You stared at the screen in front of you, unable to breathe, unable to blink. - From Recall 

WOAH. I HAVE TOO MANY WIPS. 

Jordan smiled and paused the movie. “Cool. Oh, hey.” She called after you as you headed towards your bedroom and you spun back around. “Some of your mail must’ve got mixed in with mine from yesterday. I sorted through it this morning and found some things addressed to you- like a phone bill and something else?  So I stuck them on your dresser.” No problem, that happens all the- “Who do you know in North Carolina? Someone you worked with or-”    

Her question was innocent even if there was a teasing lilt to the way that she asked it.  

“Logan.” His name left your lips in an immediate whisper. You sucked in a breath and felt your heartbeat pick up its pace. Is he alright? Is he...did he change his mind about..? Does he still have me down as… Why now? Eyes widening, you blinked at Jordan. 

“Logan? Logan Delos? He’s,” she stood from the couch, pretzel crumbs falling from her lap as she shook her head and said your name. “But he’s… isn’t he in re-“ 

“Yeah.” You nodded, eyes still wide as your tongue came out to wet your lips. Is the letter from him or is it… you swallowed the thick dread before it had a chance to lodge itself in your throat. Or is it about him? You released a breath and felt the room get smaller. 

Jordan’s eyebrows came together as she took a step towards you. “In North Carolina?” She ran one hand over the crown of her head and grabbed the disheveled bun on top. You moved back towards the couch and nodded again, mouth suddenly too dry to speak.

 “That’s-” her hands darted out as you sunk into the cushions as though she expected you to miss your mark. When you hadn’t needed her assistance, she smoothed them down over her sweatpants and drummed her palms over her thighs before sitting back down next to you.  “Unexpected, I guess?” You looked over at her and she continued, words rushing out all in one breath.. “I mean, that he’d choose somewhere so...far? I just thought someone like him would want to be… I mean, come on, Malibu’s probably got the-” 

You don’t know anyone like him, Jor. “It wouldn’t have worked for him if he stayed here. He knew that.” Your voice was thin enough to splinter, scratching at your throat. He knew he had to get away from… from everything. You tried to swallow but it only made it worse. Eyes scanning the contents of the coffee table, you grabbed the only beverage there- Jordan’s half empty wine glass- and downed the remains. 

“Damn,” she whispered as you pulled the glass from your lips with a cough, wiping your free hand over your mouth. “Okay.” She leaned forward to wrap her fingers around the glass and took it from you, setting it back on the table. “Hey,” you felt the weight of her hand on your back then, and you sighed, leaning into her shoulder. “Alright, c’mere.” She wrapped an arm around you then as silent tears pricked at your eyes. She was around for...a lot of it so she knows how this… But she doesn’t know everything. After a beat she ran her hand over your arm and pulled away slightly, just enough to look at you. “You knew he went to North Carolina? That wasn’t a guess?” She phrased it as a question but you knew that she knew the answer, which you supplied with a nod, bringing one hand up to swipe under your eyes. “He… told you?” 

You took a quick breath in and let it back out as you spoke. “Yeah, he…” You clamped your eyes shut as the memory of your last conversation with Logan flashed through your mind like wildfire. “He told me where he was going when we...” Fuck. “Jor, I never told you about…” 

“No,” she said quietly, your eyes opening to look up at her. “You never told me what happened… just that… that you weren’t seeing him anymore. But-” She sighed, shaking her head. But what? “But I knew it had to be… when I came home from Phoenix and saw how you looked?” She said your name and it carried all the concern and love you’d come to expect from your best friend. “I knew it wasn’t just a regular break up or… whatever you want to call it, I know that you two weren’t… just-” She blew out another breath before throwing her arms around you. You returned the embrace, not realizing how much you needed it. “Why don’t you go change, and I’ll get the letter and you can read it. Or we can talk or-” 

“Yeah.” You squeezed her once more before standing from the couch. “Okay, Jor. I’ll… I’ll be right back.” 

You suddenly forgot how exhausted you were, how all you wanted to do was fall into your bed and sleep. Sleep, when you could catch it it large chunks, was great for passing the time, but now your mind was running wild with all the time that had passed since the last time you saw him. He was so… You could still feel the plastic medical I.D. bracelet snapping beneath your fingers when you took it off for him. He was too weak to do it himself and you felt your soul breaking with that thin piece of plastic. Six months had come and gone since then, and though you’d spent more time thinking of him than you wanted to admit, you had no way of knowing how he’d spent that time. You had no clue what you would read in the letter that was sent to you. You’d had no contact with Logan since you left his apartment the day he’d told you that he was making a change. Though you knew where he was you hadn’t reached out. You were following his lead, like you had for most of the time that you’d known him. But now he’s reaching out to me... 

Your heart thumped as you peeled your work clothes off and rummaged through your drawers for a t-shirt and a pair of sweats. The second that your hand closed around the thick pair of navy sweats though, all that thumping came to a crashing halt. Without even looking at the pair you’d selected, you knew that they were the same pair that you’d put on when you’d gotten home from Logan’s that day. You sucked in a breath as you pulled them out, fingers flexing and bunching in the material, and before you could stop it, the memory of that night and the few that followed flashed violent and vivid behind your eyes. 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

You watched the walls lighten, the shadows in your room growing and shrinking as they moved with the passing of time from night to morning. Your swollen eyes stung at the corners where salty tears still gathered, but you were too spent to sob anymore. Instead, they trickled involuntarily down your cheeks as your chest rose and fell almost robotically. Your whole body ached with each breath, ribs sore and limbs feeling heavy. Exhaustion was an understatement. You’d never gone through anything like you had in the last 48 hours. But you refused to shut your eyes, refused to give over to the sleep that you so desperately needed. If I close my eyes it’s really… he’s really… 

A strained whimper pushed through your tight, raw throat as the rising sun pushed through the cracks in your closed blinds, bathing the room in a muted yellow glow. It was going to be morning whether or not you wanted the dawn to come. I don’t. Falling asleep felt like resignation, and though you knew it was for the best, knew it was the only way he’d survive, you couldn’t help the way it felt knowing that you might never see him again. Might never touch him or wrap your arms around him, might never kiss his lips or his neck or his back, might never feel his warm breath on your skin or his laughter vibrating in his chest. I might never get to tell him that I… If you fought hard enough, kept your eyes open long enough, maybe never would never come. 

Aside from attempting to delay reality, you were also worried that when you finally did collapse into sleep you would be haunted by the what if’s that you held at bay by staring at your walls. What if I’d gotten there sooner? What if I missed that call? What if I hadn’t been carrying that dose of Narcan? You shivered, recalling the moment that you watched his breastbone sink and realized it wasn’t going to rise again unless you acted fast. What if I wasn’t fast enough? 

You had been though, and for the second time in too few weeks, the emergency room doctors had told you that you’d saved his life. Looking at him lying in the hospital, so frail and unlike the man you’d jumped into that pool with all those months ago, it was hard to believe that you’d saved him at all. That’s not him. 

But his heart was still beating and he was still breathing and it was only because you’d acted as quickly as you did. You were beyond relieved when they’d told you that he was expected to make a full recovery, despite how far from possible that seemed. That relief did nothing though, to lessen the weight of knowing that if you were even two minutes too late either time, he simply wouldn’t be here at all. Logan… I wish… You were wrong when you thought you couldn’t sob anymore, a stray one forcing you to draw a razor sharp breath in before it came shuddering back out. I wish none of it ever… 

You could hear the sounds of the city waking up outside your window. Blinking, you realized that the light had changed again. The sun was over the horizon now and done with the warm glow of dawn. Instead, a thin, white light hung in the room, highlighting its emptiness. It was morning- probably close to 6am- and though you also heard the sounds of others stirring in your building, your own apartment was silent. You were alone, Jordan visiting her family in Phoenix for the long weekend, and the grayish, early light seemed intent on exposing that fact. I wish… 

With a heavy sigh, you slid your legs over the side of the bed and stood. You took three steps, one arm crossed tightly over your abdomen as you moved towards the window, that hand curled around your hip. The other came up to rake over the top of your head, pushing your disheveled hair back before reaching for the wand dangling from the window. With a small twist the room brightened further and your eyes narrowed. You kept twisting until the blinds flicked all the way shut, clicking together and darkening the room once more. I wish none of it ever happened to you, Logan. 

You wished he would have stayed in bed with you instead of peeling himself away from your body to leave for the park with William. You wished he would have canceled his flight and stayed tangled up in your limbs and the sheets, in your hair and your hands. You wished he would have woken up late to your breath on the skin of his throat and canceled the whole trip, spending the next 18 hours learning how it felt on other parts of his body instead of sitting on a jet with a man he couldn’t stomach. 

You wished that once he’d gotten back, you hadn’t been the only one to believe him. You wished he’d had just one other person’s support. You wished Juliet hadn’t abandoned him, wished that he had more than just you to lean on. He needs more. Everyone does. 

You wished he’d never stumbled so close to the abyss. Like the plastic strips you’d closed to shut out the daylight, your wishes piled up and clacked together in your mind. And like the blinds, they did nothing to shut out the truth.

But you never once, not even as you slumped back into your bed, leaning the base of your skull against the headboard, wished that you hadn’t met him. Eyes slipping closed, just to remember, not to sleep, you shuffled back to that first night with him. Your soaked dress clinging to your skin, the goosebumps his fingertips raised on your flesh as water dripped from his touch, the way he draped his jacket over your shoulders and dragged you closer. Everything that followed. You regretted none of it. You’d jump into that pool all over again, even knowing where it would lead you, because every second spent with him had been worth it. Every single one. 

You opened your eyes but even though they were trained and focused on the far wall, your bedroom swirled and blurred as you blinked, your lashes heavy and drenched in tears. The flat expanse between the door and your closet served as the perfect screen for your mind’s projections, and you helplessly let the most horrific scene of your life play out for what you already knew would be the first of far too many showings. 

It started with a phone call. Logan’s name popped up on the screen of your dashboard just as you got onto the freeway leaving your office. You knew that he had had a meeting with his father that morning, knew that it was primarily to discuss Logan’s return to work and the full resumption of his duties and responsibilities at Delos. Though you didn’t think that he was ready for it, you knew how much the company meant to him and so you silently hoped that he got the result that he was looking for instead of voicing your opinion that he should hold off, focus on finding stability. You sucked in a breath as you tapped the button on the screen to answer the call through the speakers. Please, let it have gone well. 

You swallowed as the call connected, skipping the question in your tone. “Hi, Logan.” You could hear stillness on the other end of the line, much too quiet for him to be calling from the Delos offices. Shit. “You o-” You shook your head, fingers tightening around your steering wheel. You know he’s not okay, don’t ask that. “Are you home?” 

He didn’t answer right away, at least not verbally- his breathing, heavy and labored with the feeling of defeat would have given him away to anyone, even if they hadn’t known him as well as you had. You pressed your foot harder into the gas pedal, switching lanes to maneuver around traffic as he responded. “Yeah…’m at my place.” 

Your heart thudded hard and painfully at the slight slur in his words. Oh, Logan… no, no, no. Another driver honked as you changed lanes again, speeding around and between other cars to get to Logan’s exit sooner but the sound hardly registered. “I’m about ten minutes out but I’m on my way.” You said it as though that fact were enough to make any kind of difference, but you knew that it wasn’t enough. It made no difference. “Did you...do you want to...did-” 

You sputtered from question to question, not sure which was the right to ask. It had turned out not mattering, Logan speaking over your last few words. “He’s givin’ it all to him. Delos. My company ‘an he’s gettin’ it ‘an...and Jules is-” He sounded as though each word was heavy and sharp on his tongue, hurting him on the way out of his mouth. A tear rolled down your cheek. Because it does hurt. This is killing him. 

“Logan, I-” 

“Jules isn’ answerin’ me anymore ‘an I… keep tryin’ but she’s not- she won’t ‘an I don’t… I can’t,” his voice broke apart then, collapsing into a ragged sob, and for a brain-numbing moment one thought filled your mind- don’t let “I can’t” be the last thing you hear him say.

“We can try to give her a call when I get there, Logan, okay? We’ll call her, I’m on my way, almost there.” Glancing down at the time, you pleaded with everything you had that it wouldn’t be too long. “Seven minutes.” You were crying through your words now, vision blurry as you blinked furiously to clear your eyes enough to drive. How could she do this to him? He’s her brother, how… 

You swallowed as angry drivers laid on their horns to show their opinions of your driving, but still you hardly heard them, ears straining for the sounds of Logan’s breathing.“Logan?” Please. Please answer me. You waited three beats before saying his name again, this time a little louder as you leaned closer to the steering wheel, the sole of your shoe grinding against the pedal. “Logan?! Logan are you-” 

“‘M still here… still… ‘an you should… D’you say you were comin’ here?” You breathed a speedy yes into the phone but he didn’t hear. “Want you to- need to see you again. Before...” He trailed off leaving long seconds between each shaky intake of breath and each shallow exhale. 

“Yes, Logan, I’m...” you were desperate to keep him talking, keep him alert and responsive for as long as possible. But you also knew that every second mattered, and that every second you stayed on the phone with him instead of calling 911 was another second that help was not on the way. “I’m… of course I’m coming, I’m almost there, okay?” You swiped at your eyes, fully aware of the black streaks of makeup that you were painting on your cheeks. “F-few more minutes, Logan, okay?” 

You thought you heard him acknowledge what you said but you couldn’t be sure that what you had said even registered with him in the state he was in. Fuck. What the fuck do I do here? Between your racing heart, bleary eyes and panicked breaths, you were starting to feel dizzy. And scared. The cold, frigid fear that you felt the night of Juliet’s wedding, when you’d pulled Logan from his pool after he’d fallen in and hit his head, filled you again and you knew what you had to do.

 “Logan?” You were terrified to hang up the phone, terrified to sever the connection. But I have to. “Logan, listen to me, okay? I’m gonna have to hang up to call for some h-help.” Tears ran down your cheeks but you focused on speaking clearly through them. “Listen to me, please Logan. Please… please just hold on, okay? I’m coming. I'm…” Fuck. He hadn’t said anything in too long and you couldn’t keep talking to the static in the air, not with each second ticking against him. Please hold on, Logan… I love you. 

As soon as the thought materialized, your chest tightened and you pressed the button to end the call, fingers already moving on the screen to dial emergency services. You were only five minutes away now, just a few more turns and you’d be there, but you knew that getting him the medical attention that he needed as quickly as possible could mean all the difference. 

You answered all of the dispatcher’s questions as best as you could. Since you weren’t there with Logan, you couldn’t confirm what he’d taken, but you told them exactly how many weeks it had been since his last overdose, that one a combination of opiates and benzodiazepines. Still driving and responding to the professionally calm man as he let you know that help was on the way, you took the wheel with your left hand, the right reaching over into the passenger seat for your purse. Pulling it into your lap, you looked down briefly to yank the zipper open before flicking your eyes back up to the road just in time to slam your brakes, narrowly avoiding sinking the hood of your car beneath the bottom of the trailer in front of you. Shit that was… Please. Shoving your right hand into your bag, you felt the small container that you’d started keeping in there since the morning after waking up in Logan’s hospital bed with him. Relief washed over you as your fingers closed around it and you pulled it out. 

Your relief seemed to pass through the phone to the man on the other line as you informed him that you had a dose of Narcan to give Logan if necessary as soon as you got to him. He told you that that was good, that it would certainly help if things had gone that far, that he’d stay on the phone with you until EMS arrived, talking you through what to do. You hadn’t told Logan that you’d gone to the pharmacy and requested a dose of the life saving medication to have on hand just in case, because you had hoped, foolishly, that the night you dragged him out of the shallow water and into your lap, his back against your chest and his head rolling back onto your shoulder, would be the last time that you ever saw him like that. You didn’t want to mention the emergency reversal drug you had stashed in the secret zippered pouch of your purse. You didn’t want to mention that it would only do him any good if you were with him when he needed it. The pharmacist hadn’t asked any questions as you handed over the request form that you’d printed out earlier that day, the woman handing you your purchase in a brown paper bag with a small nod, her eyes warm and sympathetic, and so you’d treated the small device with the same amount of discretion in its place in your bag. 

No amount of reading up on it could prepare you for what it would be like to actually give someone the drug, though. Let alone someone you cared for as fiercely and fully as you cared for Logan. Nothing, not even seeing him in that state before, could prepare you for the absolute horror of falling to his side and realizing that his chest had stopped moving. It was like being outside of your body, seeing him so outside of his own, and though you could feel yourself moving and working and doing everything that the dispatcher still on the line with you was saying, it was as though someone else was pulling the strings to control your hands as they administered the medication, or your arms as they held him when it started to kick in, his long legs jerking as he took a sudden inhale. You had never felt anything like the adrenaline dump that occurred when you saw that he was coming back to the surface, your entire being buzzing and vibrating as the ambulance finally arrived, trained medical personnel taking over for you. 

Nothing had ever hit you as hard as the look in Logan’s eyes as they flicked to your face, lingering there and filling with tears, then closing as he was loaded into the back of the emergency vehicle. 

Somehow, the residual adrenaline still coursing through you was enough to get you back into your car to follow to the hospital. The next few hours lasted years and sped by in seconds, and there wasn’t much you remembered but beige walls and generic abstract artwork, a kind nurse bringing you a coffee that you were too jumpy to drink. You set it on the small table in the waiting area where you sat, watching the steam swirling above it until the liquid was too cold for any to form. He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive. You felt it with every beat of your heart as it finally began to slow. Still here. You inhaled, you exhaled, trying to get the ceiling to stop spinning. Logan… 

You’d left your phone in the cup holder of your car, so you had no way of knowing- other than by gauging the temperature of your untouched coffee- how long it was from the time you arrived until you were allowed into his room to see him, but when the kind nurse came back you nearly sprang from your seat, body humming with anxious energy once more. The woman had told you that he was sleeping, and you were glad. He needs it. You thanked her and she left you at the door to his room, your hand shaking as it reached for the silver handle. 

Despite having seen him in this very same hospital only weeks prior, and at the medical facility at The Mesa, the sight of him laying in the darkened room pierced your heart like a knife, a terrible tearing feeling opening up in your chest as the air slipped from your lungs. Look at him… he’s… You swallowed, turning slowly to close the door behind you before you faced him again. He looked small, a word you’d never have associated with him before, and it hurt to see him this way. He’s barely hanging on… that’s not him.    

You crossed the room to sit by his side, dragging the chair that was against the wall closer to the bed and sinking into it. “Hi, Logan.” Your whispered words were brimming with tears as you extended a hand to brush the hair away from his brow. His skin was warm when you touched him, not clammy and cool like it was when you’d first gotten to his apartment, and though it was a small measure of consolation, it was enough for now. “I’m here,” you told him as you raked two fingers through his hair. “You have me.” Turning your hand you ran the backs of your knuckles down his cheek and over the slightly overgrown beard that covered the bottom of his face, then let it fall to his arm. “You’ll always have me.”   

Your fingers curled into the crook of his elbow then, encircling nearly all of his thin arm. Oh. Oh, Logan. It was a shock to you, even though you had noticed that he was losing weight again; you felt it each time you wrapped your arms around him, felt him shrinking. Brushing the pad of your thumb over the fresh marks that marred his pale skin, you heard the words you’d said to him just days before play back in your head. 

This isn’t all that you are, Logan.

Lowering your lips to the bend in his arm, you pressed a kiss there just as you had the other day, when you thought that some of his track marks were disappearing. They were. He hadn’t… They were healing. He was…

 No matter what they looked like days ago, the marks that dotted the fair skin of his forearm were an angry reddish purple now. Your tears fell into the valley of his elbow as you straightened up again. He continued to slip in and out of sleep for the next several hours, only waking for brief moments in which he’d mumble or moan, but neither your tears nor your trembling lips were enough to pull him out of it completely. His eyes remained closed and yours remained on his chest, watching its rising and falling in slow rhythm with the chorus of soft beeps from the machines monitoring him. This isn’t… this can’t be all there is for you, Logan. 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

By the time you made it back out to your living room, Jordan had refilled her wine glass and poured a second one for you. She sat cross-legged on the couch in the same spot she’d been in when you came home. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the long, narrow envelope in her lap, widening as they landed on your name in his handwriting. Sucking in a breath, you brought one hand up to your chest, fingers curling in the neckline and tugging absently. Oh this is going to be… You felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes, stinging sharply before they filled and flowed. This isn’t going to be easy, Logan… 

“Hey,” Jordan tilted her head and patted the cushion next to her. “C’mon, it’s… whatever it says in here?” She lifted the envelope as you slowly sunk down. “It’s gonna be-” she sighed. “Look, it’s gonna be alright, okay? Just… read it. You need to read it.” I do. “And I’ll be right here, and we can talk about it or we don’t have to but,” she handed you the piece of mail and you took it between your thumb and fingers, testing the weight. “But you need this. Whatever it says in here?” She placed her hand on your shoulder. “You need it.” 

Nodding, you swallowed the thick feeling that was tightening your throat. “Yeah… thanks Jor.” She’s right. Taking a deep breath, you leaned forward and picked up your wine glass. “Okay, Logan,” you closed your eyes and took a sip before setting the glass back down and releasing a long breath. “Let’s see what you…” You trailed off as you lifted the envelope flap, pulling it open and removing the folded paper inside, the feeling of his words pressed into the page beneath your fingertips stinging your eyes again. Shit I don’t know if I can… 

But you did. 

It had taken you almost twenty five minutes to read through his letter, despite the fact that it was just one page. You kept needing to pause to let a word or phrase sink in, or to catch your breath or wipe your eyes. By the end of it you were sobbing softly to yourself while Jordan looked on, ready to be there for you in any way that she could. There was nothing she could do except offer her shoulder and her ear, and she gave both, letting you lean against her while she soothingly stroked your hair, letting you pour out all of the things that you felt, even the things that you couldn’t put into words, the things that came out solely as broken cries and shattered whines. Jordan had never met Logan, and she didn’t know everything about the relationship that you had with him, but she knew enough to know how strongly you felt about him. She knew I loved him. She… now she knows he loves me… 

He’d said it. 

Not in those words, not blatantly or clearly. But the way that he talked about why he’d waited so long to reach out to you even after thinking about you nearly every day for the last six months, about how he’d wanted to be sure that he would make it through his program before he got his or your hopes up… the way that he thanked you, not for saving him in the very literal ways that you did, but in the deeper, more invisible ways that he’d carry with him on the rest of his journey… 

The way that he'd apologized for ever hurting you, for not getting help sooner, for not being able to be there with you… the way that you could hear the sadness in his tone when you read the words at the end of the letter. 

 You said I’d always have you. I know that’s true now. I’ll always have you… maybe someday you can have me. Not yet, but maybe someday soon.   

He loved you. And it was because he loved you that the letter didn’t end with a request to meet again or a promise of an end to all this separation. He still had things he was trying to fix, to rebuild and make stronger, and the fact that he didn’t want you anywhere near the construction site until it was stable and safe said it louder and more clearly than three words ever could. It was closure, in a sense, because you knew that he was healthy, that he’d done what he’d set out to do and gotten himself off of the drugs and away from the toxicity that would absolutely have killed him otherwise. You knew that everything you’d felt for him hadn’t been for nothing, that he’d felt it too and that it had helped him through one of the hardest times of his life. 

But it was bittersweet, because while you understood that he still needed time, that he couldn’t just dive back into the deep end of things, you also understood that life didn’t stop for either of you. If I don’t fit in his life anymore… You couldn’t expect him to make room for you in it. If we see each other again… if he’s ever ready to… then maybe… 

Maybe. Someday. Soon. In your head they sounded a lot like unlikely, impossible and never, but in your heart they felt like very thin, very dangerously spun strands of hope. 

Maybe someday soon, Logan… 

You sent the wish silently through the air, hoping it would float out your window and catch a Pacific breeze to be carried to wherever he slept tonight. 

You have me, Logan. Always.

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Thank you as always for reading! I am very much looking forward to moving this story into it’s second phase: Reprogram.  If you would like to be added to or removed from this or any of my tag lists, please feel free to let me know! 

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On Miguel’s last day at the inpatient rehab facility, he asked Logan to join him for a walk down by the water. The weather wasn’t great for it, but Logan could sense that the man was looking for more than a pleasant stroll. The gray clouds filled the sky, blotting out the sun and cooling the air temperature, but Logan followed his friend out into it without questioning it, neither of them speaking until they’d reached the railing that ran parallel to the beach, Logan stopping after Miguel, waiting for him to say something. 

“You know I’m outta here tomorrow.” It wasn’t a question, and Logan wasn’t sure what the point was. Yeah, of course I know that. Miguel swallowed, the muscles of his throat working under his skin before he let out a laugh. “I mean, yeah obviously.” 

“Miguel,” Logan shook his head, the longer strands of his hair falling into his eyes. “What…” 

“Look I know we talked about...a lotta shit, right?” We sure fuckin’ have. There were few people aside from you and Ezekiel that he’d shared as many details about himself with. But there’s still a lot he doesn’t know.  “But...I just thought maybe we take one last chance to… talk about…” He sniffed and looked over at Logan. “About what we...what got us here.” 

Logan’s eyes widened then as a pair of wild horses galloped into his vision along the shoreline, their hoofprints forcing flashes of a very different horse running through very different sand. Fuck...this is how he wants to spend his last… He sighed heavily though, knowing that Miguel’s suggestion was likely for the best. It was good, having an ally, someone like Miguel who was intimately familiar with the type of struggle that Logan was fighting to free himself of, and he knew that part of having an ally meant letting them know your weakest parts. “Yeah,” he breathed the word, barely audible over the waves. “Yeah that’s...we should.” 

The two men had leaned against the rail then, Miguel prompting Logan to begin, asking him to tell him more about the trip to the park that had set everything in motion. “I know you said...in group once, you said something happened, that your brother in law did something to you on that trip… is that… did that have something to do with you usin’?” 

Before long, Logan had launched into the grittier details that had played out in his nightmares for the better part of the last nine months. He skipped over the things that he knew Miguel already knew- that the trip was supposed to be a bonding experience for him and his sister’s future husband, that the man had lost his sense of reality and snapped, that he’d abandoned Logan in the park and manipulated his family upon their return. He elaborated on the parts that Miguel didn’t know- the extent of his injuries both physical and mental, and how his time alone in the desert broke him. 

“Everything- the… the vultures, the bison, the fuckin jackrabbits, the,” he nodded towards the foamy surf where a strong, chestnut colored banker stepped confidently up to a white and brown filly. “The horses. It’s all fake. None of it’s real.” There was no way that live animals could be safely and humanely used in the parks. They, like the Hosts, had been built, their actions simulated and determined by a few lines of what he was told was simple code. “For me it was always…” Logan leaned against the weathered wooden post, arms crossed, his right hand squeezing his left bicep just above his elbow. He narrowed his eyes, focused on the arch of the darker horse’s mane as the animal tossed its head. “It was easy to keep...to remind myself that it was just a game. You know?” 

Logan saw Miguel’s shrug out of the corner of his eye. “Nah, I mean,” he laughed, folding his arms over the railing. “I never been to Westworld or, what’s one of the other ones you got?” He smacked the splintered wood, flakes of dried paint chipping off. “Shogun World?” He laughed again and shook his head. “Shit man, I’ve never even been to goddamn Disneyworld, so…” He shrugged again and even Logan had to let out a snort of laughter. I sound like an entitled fuckin prick right now. “So when it comes to your fancy as fuck vacations? Assume I don’t know nothin.” Miguel used the back of one hand to slap Logan on the arm. “I don’t assume you know shit about the Bronx right?” 

You sure don’t. “That’s fair.” Logan turned to look down at Miguel with a smirk. He shook his head and let the smirk fade as he sighed, eyes going back to the pair of horses, their tails flicking as they trotted along beside one another. “So,” he gestured with one hand, waving it before letting it fall back to its original position. “They… all the Hosts in the parks, they’re all characters in a storyline.” He blew out a sharp breath. “They’re all fuckin clichés. The town drunk, the sheriff, the-“ he felt his top lip twitch in disgust. “The rancher’s daughter, and it’s all… well for fuckin sane people, it’s all easy enough to remind yourself thats it’s not real. They’re just fuckin robots and it’s not…” He sniffed as he recalled the way that Dolores’s programmed painful screams did nothing to him but pierce his ears. “Even watchin’ ‘em die it just… it was a game. Didn’t matter.” 

The white and brown horse nudged her companion and then both horses broke into a gallop, their hooves splashing through the shallow water as it receded around their ankles. Logan heard Miguel’s whispered damn and he silently agreed. “The horses there though…” Logan kept his eyes on the pair down on the beach, but in his mind he saw a very different beast. “It’s harder to forget that they’re…” he flinched. “When the Hosts die it’s… it’s dramatic. And realistic and...satisfying in a sick fuckin way. ‘Cause it’s what you go there for. But the horses it’s… watchin’ them die it’s different.”

He curled his fingers into fists and he could feel the fine filament strands of the robotic horse’s faux mane.  

“That damn horse he had me on?  Shit, they must’ve programmed it to just go. Y’know? Not stop until the rider told it to or,” he inhaled through his nose, “or the narrative demanded it or whatever. But at that point I was so… I was out of it. I couldn’t tell it to stop, I had no fuckin… I had no clue where I even was.” He flinched, top lip curling. “It kept fuckin’ going and I… well I guess figured that I was better off on it than trying to wander around alone, but fuck, I…” He looked over at his friend then as the two Banker horses they’d been watching got closer. “I wasn’t ready for how it was gonna fuck me up when that thing died. It just…” 

He closed his eyes then and he saw himself crawling away from the collapsed horse, raw sobs emanating from his chest as the sun scorched his bare skin. When he opened his eyes again the corners were stinging with tears. Fuck. 

 “I remember bein’ on it, feelin’ it move and then...then it just went still, stopped movin’, it…” He swallowed as another set of tears fell from his eyes. “It dropped. I felt it’s muscles stop and I looked in it’s eye and it was done. It ran itself out and it didn’t even know it was comin’ because it wasn’t alive. 

“But you were.” Miguel spoke quietly, a soft damn following his words. 

Logan nodded. “Yeah. That...that was when I first thought I was gonna die and I...shit… It was the most scared I’ve ever been. Dyin’ alone? Without… anyone there.” Your name slipped into his mind. Without seein’ her again. “That’s when I realized I didn’t have my… the picture that I had with me? The one I brought to help keep myself grounded if I needed it.” Before that trip he hadn’t needed his emergency reminder in over a year. He’d only brought the photo of Juliet in case William needed it the one of you he’d brought purely because he wanted to. But when he found himself actually in need of a reminder that he wasn’t alone, not in the real world, he’d found himself without it. “Once I realied that I… I lost my shit. Went completely out of it, spent a couple days like that and…and started thinkin’ I shoulda died, that it’d be better.” 

“Fuck, man.” Miguel sniffed. “That’s…” Yeah. I know. 

Logan shook his head. I’m not… yeah it’s still there, but I’m not a mess about it anymore. At least not now. It actually… He blinked a few times, feeling strangely lighter. It actually feels good to talk about it. “Yeah, so-” 

“So you really… that girl really means something to you then.” Again, it wasn’t a question- not in the way Miguel had asked it, and not in the way that Logan felt about his answer. 

“She is.” She’s… 

“Then why don’t you write to her, man?” 

This again. Miguel had been on Logan’s ass about how important it was to try to reach out to the people in his life and let them know how he was doing, let them know that they mattered to him, and that they were still a part of who he was learning that he was. But I never see him writing any goddamn letters. 

 “It’s not that simple, Miguel, I can’t just…” he closed his eyes and saw the way that you looked at him when he told you that he didn’t want you to be waiting for him to finish treatment- when he told you that it was for the best if you left him in your past so that he could focus on a future that wouldn’t bury you both. He could still feel the way that your hot tears soaked his overgrown beard when you kissed him for the last time. Even though he knew that you were hurting, he watched you put your pain aside to tell him that he deserved to be happy. It was pain that he had caused by letting you get so close to him, by leaning so hard on you, and he wasn’t eager to resurrect that hurt for you. I could still fuck this up. “I can’t do that to her, not when I don’t know how long I’ll... “ Logan shook his head and opened his eyes in time to watch the two horses turn and bolt along the shoreline, a spray of sand and ocean foam flying from their hooves. “I can’t put her through it all again just to-”  

“You wanna know why I never write to anyone, Logan?” Miguel spoke quietly as he watched the waves cover the horses’ tracks and Logan snapped his attention towards the other man,  a lump moving down his throat as he swallowed. “Why I sit here and write shit to myself insteada reachin’ out to people I care about? People that care about me?”

Normally this was exactly the type of conversation that Logan would try to avoid- personal information, intimate truths, things that required a balance of trust to share. But Miguel had proven himself time and again to be someone that Logan could talk to, someone that wanted to help. He blinked as his friend turned to face him, deciding that it might just be time to return the favor and hear him out. “Why?” 

“I got no one to write to. Not anymore.” The flat tone he used for the last two words made Logan blink, his forehead creasing. What does that- Miguel cleared his throat, coughing into his fist as he returned his gaze back to the beach and leaned over the railing again. “Shay...my girl she… she’s gone, Logan. She ODed right in fronta me, right in my arms.” Damn. “She was… she and I we, we talked about the future a lot, talked about gettin’ clean together, gettin’ out of the shithole neighborhood we were livin’ in and... ” He took a breath and it didn’t matter that his hood was blocking the side of his face, Logan knew that the man was crying. ”And still, watchin’ that happen to her, it wasn’t enough to get me to stop. My brother, he died in prison, withdrawing.”

 A caustic, humorless sound came from Miguel’s lips as he blew out a breath. Jesus. Logan felt his grip on the railing tighten . “Got arrested ‘cause he passed out in a parking lot and the cops found stuff on him so instead of gettin’ him help they charged him with felony intent to sell.” Logan listened intently as the man he shared a room with for the last five months revealed a chunk of truth large enough to sink anyone. Jesus Christ, Miguel. “My brother never hurt anyone but himself. He wasn’t a dealer, didn’t have a gun, he had a problem, and he never got help for it, and then they just… in prison, they just let him fuckin’ die.” A tear fell from Miguel’s face as the younger man lifted his hand up to wipe harshly at his eyes. “Like he was nothin’, like he was...like he wasn’t even a person.” 

Logan cursed under his breath and softly kicked the post of the railing that they were leaning against. What do I even...that’s fucking horrible. For half a second he imagined Juliet getting that news about him- that he’d spent his last moments on the floor of a dirty cell, begging to be treated like a human being- and it caused him to shudder.  No one should have to...that’s… He tore his eyes from the coastline and the horses running along it and turned towards Miguel. No one deserves that. He didn’t know what to say, but Miguel’s pause ended with a sniff relieving him of the need to do anything but listen.  

“And the thing is? I know that what he did...what Shay did, me, you...all of us,” he gestured back at the building behind them. “I know it was illegal. But it shouldn’t be about fillin’ jails because that’s how you fill graves.” A weight fell into Logan’s stomach then as he pictured you standing in front of a stone, his name etched into it as clear and crisp as the pain that was etched into your face. No. Standing straight again, Miguel shifted his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt. “Look, point is, you can’t beat yourself up about the decisions you made and the things you did when you were usin’. It’s a fucking disease, Logan, and you can’t punish yourself… or her, just because you survived it.”     

That’s not what I’m...I’m trying to protect her. She’s better off without me. It was what he’d told himself time and again to ease the ache he felt from missing you. She doesn’t deserve-  

“I almost died on her, Miguel. Twice. Twice, I… fuck, the second time? I stopped goddamn breathing I-” Logan shook his head, grip tightening on the railing. “Bein’ with me, that was punishment for h-“ 

“Do you love her, Logan?” It was as direct a question as Miguel had ever asked him, the young man’s tawny eyes suddenly seeming to hold at least double the wisdom that someone his age should be capable of. 

What? Logan blinked slowly as a fine mist started to fall. His mouth dropped open but he didn’t know what to say. He’d never allowed himself to use that word in regards to you, even if he knew the answer to Miguel’s question. I never told her that. I… He shook his head. “I never...we didn’t...that’s not what-” 

“Logan.” Miguel turned sideways, leaning his hip against the railing. “C’mon man, no bullshit.” Logan swallowed, turning as well so that he could face his friend. “I don’t care what you told her or didn’t tell her. I know she means a lot to you. I know you got a picture of her next to your bed.” 

The image of you smiling as you stood in front of the Golden Gate Bridge filled his mind. It was the same photo he’d brought with him to Westworld, the one he’d needed in the desert, the one that made even the worst nights during the past five months bearable. Like he did everytime he looked at it, he recalled the way he felt when you’d sent it to him, recalled the text you’d sent along with it. Wish you were here, Logan. He took a breath and closed his eyes, imagining the distinct weight of your hand on his chest, of your arms wound around his body, of your laughter and the warmth that came with it. I wish I was there too, but I… “She…” 

“From what you’ve told me about her?” Miguel narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Shit man, I know that girl loves you.” Logan sucked in a breath. She… “So I’m askin’ you- Do you love her?”  

“I-” His throat tightened then as Logan was faced with the reality of speaking his true feelings about you aloud for the first time. Shit, I… He was terrified not only of how sure he felt about his answer, but also of how long he’d known it without acknowledging it. He swallowed the dry lump that threatened to choke him, then let out a ragged breath. “Yeah,” he finally said, staring at the wooden rail, voice thin and raspy. “Yeah, Miguel.” Logan looked up then, meeting Miguel’s knowing gaze. “I love her.” 

“Then you should reach out to her, man. Let her know how you’re doin’. She…” His hand came to Logan’s shoulder, clapping the top of it and squeezing once, and Logan watched a flicker of pain pass over Miguel’s face. “I’m sure hearin’ how well you’re doin’ will be...good for her.” He dropped his hand then, and cleared his throat, turning back to the beach, but the horses they’d been watching at the start of the conversation were gone now. 

He thought back to the brief interval between the night of Juliet’s wedding and the night that made him see that he needed to make a change, remembering the good days and how you were a part of every one of them. One morning in particular flooded his memory, and he turned his back to the waves to stare blankly at the building he’d called home for the last five months as it played out. 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..

“G’morning, Logan.” 

He felt your sleepy words vibrate against his cheek before you pressed your lips to the skin above his beard with a hum. Arms instantly tightening around you, he pulled you flush to his body as you let out a breath in the form of a warm laugh. Turning his face to find your lips with his, he kissed you before even opening his eyes. It was a habit he’d formed for the mornings when the sun had woken him instead of his nightmares, letting your smile as he kissed you be the first thing that he felt. It was a reminder to him that there were moments, days worth fighting for, and that you were there, fighting with him.  

“Mornin’.” He spoke without moving his lips, kissing you again the second that the word was out of his mouth. You sighed into it and one of his hands came up to the back of your head, fingers carding through your bed- disheveled hair. Your touch moved from his chest up to the side of his neck, fingertips tracing the curve of his ear before pinching the lobe lightly and pulling down. Damn, that feels… Logan groaned quietly as he pulled away, finally opening his eyes to drink you in. Goddamn. You were looking at him through your lashes, eyes still puffy from sleep, the golden sunlight coming in through the drapes falling on your hair, on your skin, casting shadows along your curves, and he couldn’t help but wish that every morning could begin exactly like this one. “How’d you sleep?” He leaned in to capture your lips in another kiss before letting you answer. 

You curled your fingers where they’d fallen at the base of his throat, humming your surprise as you kissed him back. “I slept well,” you answered, bringing your lips up to his nose before sliding yours along it. “Seems like you did too, huh?” 

He swallowed, fingers absently moving over your skin where his hands lay on your body as you tucked yourself back against his chest, your palm finding the center. “Yeah.” When was the last time I could say that? He rested his cheek on the top of your head, inhaling deeply through his nose, breathing in the scent of your hair. “Slept great.” 

You drew lazy patterns over his sternum before moving your fingers up to his collarbone, dropping your thumb in the dip where it met his rib cage. “Good.” He felt your breath hit his throat before your lips landed there and his eyes fell shut again. This. This is why I… what I have to hold on for. Mornings like this.   

They were still few and far between, mornings like this one, Logan knew that. He knew that you knew it, too. But moments like this made it hard to believe that only three weeks ago he’d woken up hooked to I.V.s, the medications working to bring him back from the brink that he’d sent himself to on the night of his sister’s wedding. It was hard to believe that only twenty-one mornings ago you’d tucked yourself against him just as you had now, only it had been in a narrow hospital bed and your cheeks had been wet with tears. Logan took another deep breath and flattened his hands to press you closer as he let it back out. Almost… but not there yet. Just… He ducked his head down to kiss your temple. Just have to keep trying, keep goin’. Then we can-

“You hungry? Think I saw some eggs in the fridge last night.” You pulled yourself back to look at him as you spoke and he blinked his eyes open once more, hands sliding down your sides as you propped yourself up on one elbow. “I’m not much of a cook, but I-” 

“Not yet.” He cut you off, sitting up and pulling you with him, flipping you beneath him as he reversed your position. You clutched his biceps, laughing as he dropped his weight down on top of you, one of your legs winding around one of his. “Wanna work up an appetite first.” He licked at the skin behind your ear before taking it gently between his teeth. You sucked in a breath, nails scratching lightly down his triceps. “And I think I know a good way to do that,” he released your earlobe and bit down on your shoulder, eliciting another hiss of pleasure and a roll of your hips into his. “What do you think?” 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

You had made him breakfast eventually, though by the time the two of you had gotten around to eating it was well into the afternoon. Logan could still taste the under-salted scrambled eggs you’d cooked. They were fuckin’ terrible, she was right. But it finally hit him that it was that morning- the lazy touches, the greedy kisses, the shitty eggs- that stood out from the others. It was that morning and moments like it that made him sure. I love her. And she… 

“I’ll be here for you, Logan...when you get back.” 

That’s what you had said to him the night before he’d left for the East Coast and the facility he stood in front of now. “I told her not to…” A far off rumble of thunder drowned out the rest of his words as he turned back towards the ocean. 

“Huh?” Miguel looked over, squinting through the steady drizzle that the mist had become. “You say somethin’?” He brought one hand up to pull the hood of his sweatshirt further over the top of his head, but neither man made a move to get out of the rain even as it picked up, soaking Logan’s hair. 

“Before I left, to come here?” Logan sniffed, nodding at the foamy surf as it rushed up the shore to swallow the hoofprints left by the Banker horses. “I told her not to wait for me.” The water receded, taking with it any evidence that anything, man or beast, had ever made its mark in the sand. If one wave could erase all of that, he had to wonder what six months would do. I told her to… He closed his eyes, letting the wind pelt him with wayward raindrops. I told her not to love me.  

Miguel blew air out through his nose in a dry laugh. What the hell is funny? “Shit, man.” Logan straightened up and drew himself up to his full height, looking Miguel in the eye. “You rich types. You all think just ‘cause you say somethin’ everybody’s gotta listen.” He let out another short burst of air. “You really think she just stopped carin’ about you, Logan? Just ‘cause you told her to?” He shook his head. “Nah, that ain’t how it works man.”

The idea that he might someday have you in his arms again- have you and be whole enough to keep you, whole enough to give himself to you- nearly made him dizzy. But that’s not… I can’t expect… “She...Miguel, I told her I didn’t want her around for all this.” Why would she- 

“Damn you got a thick head, you know that?” Logan pressed his lips together then, eyebrows high on his forehead. What? Miguel went on. “Lemme ask you somethin’. If it were the other way around, her tellin’ you to forget her, not to keep stickin’ around, is that all it’d take for you to just,” he shrugged, “forget about her? Outta sight, outta mind?” 

The answer came swiftly and with absolute certainty.  No. 

Logan stiffened, remembering the look in William’s eye when he’d tried to make him see reason; when he tried to make him see that Dolores wasn’t real, that the man had someone real waiting for him. His fingers curled around the wet wooden railing, squeezing as more of the peeling paint fell away in flakes. “Now you’re scheming to become part of the family.” His own words swam through his head, and he saw William’s blue eyes glaze over as he stared at the blonde haired Host. “Marrying my sister, whom incidentally you seemed to have completely fucking forgotten about!” Logan had pulled two photos from inside of his jacket then, flipping past yours to get to the one he’d taken of his sister in Times Square a few years earlier. “Her?” Tucking your photo back in its place inside the inner pocket, he waved Juliet’s smiling face in front of her soon to be husband. “Here, keep it.”  He leaned in then, shoving his sister’s photo into William’s pocket. “You apparently need the reminder.” 

“No.” The single syllable came out more loudly than he’d meant for it to, his top lip lifting, almost offended that Miguel had even asked the question. Swallowing, he shook his head and licked at his lips. “No,” he said again, “I could never forget about her.”  

“Well what the hell makes you think it's any different for her, huh?” Hands still in the front pocket of his sweatshirt, he elbowed Logan lightly as he challenged him. 

Logan shifted his weight, absorbing Miguel’s bony jab and regaining his balance. It’s different because… She’s… I’m… “Fuck, Miguel, it’s different, it should be different, because I’m a-” 

“Don’t fuckin’ blame this on you bein an addict.” Miguel’s tone suddenly turned serious, his eyes narrowing and his nostrils flaring. 

Logan felt his own eyes widen, his lips parting in surprise. But I-  

Miguel was quicker than Logan’s thoughts, waving one hand dismissively as though he could read them. “Nah. That’s  not…” He sniffed. “A? You’re five months clean, man. Five damn months, that’s fuckin’ something, and you worked hard for it. And B? Your girl knew, Logan. She knew you had a fuckin’ problem, and it wasn’t enough to…” He trailed off, cursing under his breath. “Look. You needed to take time to get right with yourself and that’s all good. You had to do what you had to do, but don’t twist it. She loved you, and if I had any damn money to put on it?” He finally let one side of his mouth lift in a small smirk, tone lightening again. “I’d bet she still does, man. Yeah. It’s been a while, and yeah, you leavin’ was probably just as hard on her as it was on you.” Logan winced at that but Miguel went on. “For different reasons, obviously, but…” But? “Shit, I know it woulda taken a fuck of a lot more than me tellin’ her not to wait to make Shay give up on me.”

Damn. The realization that his struggle didn’t negate your love for him hit him just as hard as the fact that he’d shared so much with Miguel over the last several months, and yet this was the first time the man had opened up to him as much as he did. He never told me about Shay… or his brother, I never… The waves were riding atop one another to combine and amplify their crashing, the rolling thunder becoming less distant as the storm that had chased the horses away came closer. 

The sound of the rain hitting the wooden boards that made up the walkway that the two men stood on grew heavier as the droplets themselves began to double in size. Miguel blinked up at the sky, a fat drop splashing on his cheek. “Hey, c’mon man, let’s get back inside, it’s-” 

But Logan didn’t let him finish, instead throwing his arms around the man in a tight but brief embrace. It wasn’t characteristic of him to show that he cared about people, at least not anyone that wasn’t you or his sister, but somehow through the course of their time together, Miguel had earned a place in that small circle. There were no words that Logan could come up with to thank the man for everything that he’d done for him since his very first night at the facility, so he didn’t try. Fuck. I’m gonna miss him. 

At first Miguel didn’t respond, standing frozen as four seconds turned to five, but then he returned the hug, clapping Logan twice on the back. “Yo, it’s all good man.” He pulled back and gave Logan one more clap to the side of his arm. “You don’t have to thank me for anything.” Yes I do, I- “No,” he read Logan’s furrowed brow and spoke before the thoughts could materialize. “You don’t.” He shook his head, the hood slipping down his back. One hand flew up to tug it back into place over his short curls before dropping again. “You know this was my second time through here,  right?” Logan nodded, still unsure where this was headed. “Yeah, well… Well I only got through it okay this time ‘cause I had you.” What? Me? How could I have- “You meet who you need to when you need to, right?” He laughed and looked back up at the sky, squinting one eye. “Somethin’ my mom always said.” He looked back at Logan then,  hands already back in his pocket. “Hey can I…call you? Once you’re outta here and back home and all… settled? I just…” He shrugged. “Hell, man, I ain’t tryin’a make it a three-peat an you’re-” 

“You fuckin’ better call me.” Logan cut him off. I mean it. His throat felt thick and he struggled to swallow down the unexpected emotions. 

Miguel just nodded, his features arranged in an uncharacteristically serious fashion, the two of them now soaked through to their tee shirts as the drizzle finally gave over to full-blown rain. “Alright.” He cleared his throat and tossed his chin in the direction of the building. “C’mon now, I don’t wanna spend my whole last night here dryin’ off.” With that he turned and started walking, the Atlantic Ocean to his back. Logan shook the shock of everything he was feeling and followed, his thoughts and heart racing, but Miguel swiveled back around and he stopped short. “And Logan? Write to your girl. Even if it’s just to tell her you’re headed in the right direction. I’m sure she…”

“Yeah.” Logan’s response was quick, his voice thin but sure. “Yeah, I will.” 

The two of them began walking, traversing the path back to the facility that had brought them together. He didn’t stop again, but another thought seemed to occur to Miguel and he swiveled his head towards Logan. “Hey one more thing.” 

Logan rolled his eyes sarcastically. “Goddamn, what else can you possibly have to fucking say?” 

Miguel’s face split into a shit eating grin then. “Just a reminder to be nice to your new roommate. He’s gonna be havin’ the shittiest damn day of his life and it’s gonna be your problem for at least 48 hours.” 

“Ah, shit.” Logan recalled his own first day there- the pitiful way he felt, the anger and confusion, the feeling that none of it mattered and it all hurt too much. He recalled thinking about smothering Miguel in his sleep because the man wouldn’t shut up with his positive bullshit. I wouldn’t have made it through that night without his bullshit. “I’m gonna get someone as bad as I was, aren’t I?” 

“Yup,” Miguel laughed. “That’s how it works man. But you never know if you’re who they need to meet, right?” 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

“I wanna go to Law School.” Logan sat down in the purple chair in Zeke’s office as he made his declaration. 

Zeke took his glasses from his face and pulled a small microfiber cloth from his pocket to wipe them with as he stepped around from the door to take his seat opposite Logan. “Okay. You wanna back up and tell me where this is coming from, Logan?” He flipped the small cloth to fold it and tucked it back away before perching the frames back on his nose. 

Logan twisted in his chair to face his counselor and the man he’d come to respect more than almost anyone he’d ever met. “You kiddin’ me, Zeke?” He turned his upper body back around as the other man sunk into his wheeled desk chair with a sigh. “This whole time you’ve been askin’ me what I’m plannin’ to do with myself after this place, what I want to change?” Zeke nodded and gestured with both hands for Logan to continue. “Well, I got three weeks left, and I know what I want to change. I want to change what happened to me, but I can’t. I know that now, and I know I can’t run from it or…or ignore it, either.” 

“No, that’s true, you can’t.” Ezekiel dropped his hands to the clutter-covered surface of his workspace.

“But I can change what happens next.” Logan leaned forward, elbows on his knees and pointer fingers steepled together to tap the edge of Zeke’s desk.

Zeke’s lips twitched slightly, eyes lighting with encouragement behind the lenses of his glasses. “Yeah, you can. You get to decide how your story goes from here.” He dropped his chin and drew his eyebrows together. “So, law school, huh?” 

Logan nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. “I want to figure out how to… what to do about Delos. I want...I need to protect the, my…” Zeke lifted one eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Slow down. He closed his eyes and blew out a breath. Opening his eyes again, he continued. “I can’t let William take control.” His lip curled involuntarily on the man’s name but he shook it off, moving his head from side to side. “It’s not even about what he did to me, it’s… He’s dangerous for the company.” And for Juliet, and probably a lot of other people. “But in the meantime? While I work on what to do about him? I want to…” Logan rubbed his fingertips over the sweaty centers of his palms. “Zeke, I wanna help people like...like us.”  

He released another breath then, eyes narrowed and focused on the man who still sat silently across from him. There. That’s my decision, that’s what I want to change. Logan licked at his dry lips and sat back in his seat, waiting to hear Zeke’s reaction. I don’t need his approval, I’m doin’ it, I just- 

“Damn.” Ezekiel blew out a burst of air through his nostrils. “Damn, Logan.” He smiled, eyes warming to a melted caramel. Despite the fact that he’d made up his mind regardless of what his counselor had to say about it, Logan sighed in relief and felt some of the tension ease out of his jaw. He thinks I can do it. “You really do go all in, don’t you?” I do. “Well I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t warn you that law, as a profession? The lifestyle isn’t exactly friendly to-” 

Logan laughed then, a genuine smile joining it. “All due respect here, Zeke?” He cocked his head to the side and Ezekiel gestured for him to go on. “I’ve been around lawyers my whole goddamn life. I know. Its a lotta pressure and a lotta them drink and…” he blinked, eyes refocusing. “They do a lotta shit. But I’m not… I won’t-”

“Logan.” It was Zeke’s turn to cut him off. “I know you won’t. I know you can keep fighting like you have been, and I know you’re only getting stronger. You’ll just have to… stay on top of it. That’s all.” He held up both hands. “But I think it’s a hell of a plan, and I think you’re gonna make a hell of a lawyer” 

“Thanks, I...that means…” Logan couldn’t help the small swell of pride that he felt knowing that Zeke was in his corner. “Thank you, Zeke.” 

He hadn’t told Miguel- but I will- but hearing his story, about what he and the people he loved had gone, helped push him towards his decision. I’m gonna figure out my shit...what to do about William, but… I’m gonna help other people with their shit, too. 

“This isn’t all you are, Logan, I promise you that.” You’d told him that one night after laying your lips to the faded but still present marks that lined the inside of his left forearm. He absently reached over and pressed his thumb into the bend in his arm. She was right.

In the back of his mind, an old, warped version of his own voice called out, desperate for attention. You serious? You won’t last two months. You’ll be back, you’ll- 

But he didn’t even answer it, choosing to let it fade entirely. Fuck you. 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

Logan sat at the table in the common area, a pad of paper in front of him. He held a pen between his pointer and middle finger, tapping the end of it against his thumb. It was Monday on the second to last week that he’d be a patient in the rehab facility he’d checked himself into after his second overdose in only a few months had made him see that on his current course, his time was short and his options were limited. The last six months had been some of the hardest but most eye-opening and life changing that he’d ever experienced, and though in a way he felt more like himself than he had in far longer than he could say, he also felt like a completely new person; a different person than the man you’d known before he’d left. 

But that’s for the better. And I’m not… I’m still… He sighed. I’m still me, I’m just… what’d Zeke say? He tapped the pen again. Stronger. 

Your face filled his mind for the millionth time since last he’d seen it, and he heard Miguel telling him again to write to you, to let you know that he’d come up from the depths that he’d been drowning in. He’d been surprised to find that writing to his sister, though he had no idea if she’d read any of it, had been simple. He had so much history to call in with Juliet, so many memories to hang on to and to hope for, that all he had to do was tell her that he hoped he’d get the chance to have them back some day. 

With you it was harder, because there hadn’t been anything established between the two of you, not really. But that’s not really true, is it? He saw the way you smiled at him through a mouthful of barely edible eggs, legs crossed as you sat perched on his countertop, wearing his shirt. Goddamn. With her I had… everything, no matter what we never said. 

He wanted it back, craved it, and though he hadn’t spoken to you since you pulled your lips away from his cheek, he found himself wondering if you didn’t want it back, too. If anyone deserves to know I’m doin better, it’s her. Its… 

He’d sent his application in to Stanford earlier that week, and he wanted more than anything to tell you, to be able to call you over when the decision email came so that you’d be there with him when he found out if he was accepted or not. But I… I can’t just show back up in her life again, not after how I left. He frowned down at the paper, the blank lines staring back up at him. 

Finally, he brought the tip of the pen to the top of the pad, hand moving over it to reveal your name in dark black ink. I can’t just show back up but I can… I can start somewhere. 

Once he’d started his letter to you, Logan found that the words flowed more easily than he thought possible. He’d explained things he wouldn’t have been able to months earlier, acknowledged and thanked you for things that you’d done for him and ways that you’d helped him without even knowing it. He’d apologized for the ways that his addiction and the things that surrounded it had hurt you, and when all was said he’d written three pages, front and back, signing his name near the very bottom of the third page. Yours, Logan. 

Maybe one day I can be yours again. Before he could rip the paper to shreds, he shoved it in an envelope and scrawled the last address that he’d known for you, hoping that you still lived with your roommate in L.A. 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

Exactly seven weeks after sending in his application to Stanford School of Law, Logan sat at the counter in his kitchen. He blinked at the screen in front of him as it refreshed for a third time, reloading only to display the same message as before. Holy shit. His eyes widened as his breath left his lungs in a hurry. For a split second he thought about deleting it, the old ghosts that he’d fought so hard to rid himself of now screeching their last cries. Worthless. Junkie. Impetuous. Unstable. Embarrassing. They were all words that Logan was familiar with. But they all paled in comparison to the word that was in bold font in the email that was open on the laptop before him, the death rattles of the things that he once let define him silenced by that one, single word. 

Accepted.  

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What did I just read? 

She let out an uneven breath as she lifted one shaking hand up to fix a curl that had fallen loose over her eyes. Two pearl bracelets knocked together on her wrist, clicking softly as she dropped her arm back to her side. Her fingertips swept over the sweaty center of her palms . 

What did I just read? It sounded like… 

Clamping her eyes shut tightly, she swallowed and released another burst of air. 

If this is true it means… It means he was… 

“Good afternoon, Ms. Delos.” 

She gasped and looked up from the marble floor, blinking rapidly to realign her features into a more neutral expression. Managing a tight-lipped smile, she nodded at the member of the estate staff who had greeted her, and the woman went back to work situating a vase filled with peonies in full bloom. The groundskeeper always supplied fresh cuttings to be displayed throughout the house, and the recent change in the weather meant that the garden was bursting with color. 

Juliet’s eyes lingered on the fluffy blossoms as the woman twisted the vase and stepped away from the credenza. “Is there anything I can get for you, ma’am?” She clasped her hands in front of her, waiting for a reply. 

“N-” she cleared her throat with a small cough. “No, thank you, I’m fine.” 

That’s a lie. 

But whether it was because she was paid not to ask questions, or because she believed what Juliet said, the woman didn’t hesitate before nodding with a smile. “Well then, have a lovely day, Ms. Delos.” 

With that the young woman hurried off to complete the next task on her agenda, and Juliet released the tension she was holding in her shoulders, chest rising and falling as she tried again to take steady breaths. But the buzzing in her ears came rushing back as soon as she was alone again, and one hand flew out to help her catch her balance as she turned the corner into the back hall. Her footsteps slowed and faltered slightly as she made her way down to the last room, as though the air was so thick and full of memories that it was like trying to run under water. 

The simple, white wooden door was closed, like it always was these days. She hadn’t been able to set foot inside the room in close to a decade, and since Logan had moved out only the housekeepers entered it. Preferring not to feel the things she was feeling now, she’d put her mother’s sitting room out of her mind by putting it out of her sight. But now I… she swallowed, hard. 

“Don’t let him ruin you, Juliet…” 

The last words her mother spoke to her echoed in her mind, as clearly as they had the day that the woman held her daughter’s face between her palms, begging her to remain true to herself. Her heart stalled then, and a chill filled her chest, spreading out into her limbs, into her mind. She sucked in a breath as the rest of her mother’s words came back to her. 

“He’ll do anything for power... Don’t trust him, Jules.”  

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..

It had been the last day of an unexpected visit home before leaving for a semester abroad, and Juliet had been sitting with her mother while the woman recounted what was clearly one of her strongest memories. Although she hadn’t worn her hair in braids since she was eight years old, she relaxed against her mother’s bent knees, closing her eyes as the woman raked her fingernails through her wavy, dark brown locks. Separating it into pieces, she began weaving the strands over and under, hands remembering the motions so her mind wouldn’t have to. 

“Do you remember when you and your brother crash landed in the lilac bush?” Her tone was tinged with an air of mischief, the question finishing with a laugh that had made Juliet smile. 

Of course I do. Her eyes had opened then, flicking across the sitting room to the table by the window seat, where a silver frame held a photo of the very moment that her mother was reminiscing about. In it, a tiny version of herself held the ropes of a swing tightly between clenched fists, her legs extended out in front of herself, shoes just seconds away from becoming projectiles and launching from her feet. Logan stood on the swing’s seat, one brightly colored sneaker planted on either side of her, his own small hands wrapped tightly around the ropes as he swayed his weight to send them swinging higher. 

“You wanted to fly to the moon.” Another little chuckle tumbled from her mother’s lips as she secured an elastic around the bottom of one pigtail. I remember. Juliet wasn’t sure if that was a fact she recalled from the memory itself, or from the many times it had been retold, but it didn’t matter. She remembers. She remembers this. Maybe she… Maybe Logan’s wrong. Maybe she’s getting better. She smiled as her mother started working on the other side of her parted hair. It was a wishful thought and she knew it, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be true. “You always wanted to go higher. My fearless little girl.” 

Juliet closed her eyes again to let the story play out in her head and she could hear her own delighted squeals as she begged her brother to swing them higher and faster, his response nearly drowned out by his gleeful laughter. “Okay, Jules, hold on tight!”  

No one would know it now if they hadn’t grown up with her, but Juliet Delos had been an adventurous, rough and tumble child, always covered head to toe in scrapes and bruises she’d gotten from trying to jump and  climb and do everything that Logan did. He was older, bigger, stronger and quicker, but that never stopped him from including his sister, nor did it hold her back one bit. They were almost inseparable, Juliet idolizing him and Logan seemingly loving every moment of it. Though they’d grown up and grown apart somewhat as teenaged siblings sometimes do, Juliet still looked up to Logan. I’m just not wearing his hand-me-downs anymore. She blinked over at the photo once more, smirking at the grass-stained Superman shirt she was wearing, recalling her absolute disinterest when her parents had told her that she could have a pink Supergirl one instead if she wanted. “Logan’s is Superman,” she’d stubbornly pointed out. “I want to be like Logan.” 

Juliet grinned, looking out the window and into the yard then, where the ropes of the swing still hung from the enormous tree. “We almost got to the moon, mom,” she said, handing her mother a second elastic when she’d tapped her on the shoulder. “Our calculations just didn’t account for your lilacs.” 

The sound of her mother’s laughter then felt like a balm to her heart, smoothing over all the little cracks put there from the times when the woman couldn’t remember things, or worse, when she remembered them incorrectly. She’s still there, she told herself, allowing that thought to put her at ease about leaving the country in the morning. She’ll still be here when I get home.The assurance was all she needed to let herself get lost in the rest of the memory. 

“Okay Jules, ready?” Logan asked confidently as he angled himself to gain more velocity on the swing.

Juliet tilted her head back to look up at him as her pigtails trailed behind in the breeze, small forehead furrowed and chapped bottom lip between her teeth. “Y-yeah…” 

She gave herself away with her nervous laughter though, and Logan didn’t miss it. “C’mon, jump with me, I won’t let you fall.”

The laughter came back but this time it was from excitement. “Okay!” More laughter as their mother snapped a picture from where she and their father were sitting on the veranda. “Okay, Logan!”  

He started counting down from three then, his voice downright giddy with the prospect of flying from the swing. When he got to one he yelled out the word “Jump!”, and on command Juliet flung herself from the seat of the swing, Logan springing off of it right behind her as it hit the height of its trajectory. It took no time at all for the pair of them to realize that they were headed straight into and not over their mother’s precious lilac bush and though Logan tried to wrap his scrawny arms around his sister in midair, hoping to somehow protect her from the impact, they both ended up tangled in the twiggy, broken branches of the massive purple shrub. 

“How’d we walk out of that one scot free? No broken bones?” Juliet mused, laughing as she recalled pulling petals from her hair late into the evening that night. 

“No broken bones.” Her mother confirmed, smoothing back any stray strands that she missed in the braids. Juliet sighed at the feeling of her nails combing over her scalp, relishing the moment. She hasn’t done that in…  “But do you remember how mad your father got?” Her hands dropped down then, landing on Juliet’s back and causing her to turn around to face her mother. 

Furrowing her brow, she cocked her head to one side. “Dad didn’t get mad… he…” she pursed her lips and thought hard, searching her memory for her father’s wrath and coming up short. “Did he?” 

“He did.” Her mother nodded, a solemn look overtaking her face as she picked up one of Juliet’s braids to examine her handiwork. “He screamed at your brother, told him he should have known better; that it was his job to protect you and not to put you in danger.” She sighed and let the braid fall, the tail end of it landing on Juliet’s shoulder. 

He did? Logan never told me that… She was about to ask her mother if she was sure when the woman’s expression changed, the furrows smoothing out and a smile returning to her cheeks. But not her eyes… Juliet frowned, a sudden sense of dread setting in. Maybe she’s not getting better after all…  “Juliet, do you remember the stories I used to tell you and your brother? When we’d sit in the garden? Oh,” she giggled, the sound seeming much smaller and less lifelike than the genuine laughter the two of them had shared only moments before. “The myths! You always wanted to hear the myths.” Her unfocused eyes stuck to the woven strands of her daughter’s hair. “Io and Hermes, Pan, Syrinx and Argos...those were your favorites, do you remember?” 

Juliet took a shuddering breath then, feeling her eyes prick with tears at the way her mother seemed to have slipped into another moment without warning. “Y-yeah, mom… I remember.” She sniffed, swiping her tears with her pointer finger before her mother could notice them. “Pan chased Syrinx into the forest, where she turned into a flower? Or...a bush-” 

“A lilac bush, my Jul,” her mother corrected her. 

“A lilac..? Really? Mom?” Juliet couldn’t remember that part of the story, and she couldn’t tell if it was just something that her mother was adding now. I’ll have to ask Logan if he-

“And Hermes? Do you remember?” Her mother prompted her, reaching down and squeezing her hands. 

“H-Hermes?” Juliet sniffed as her mother nodded. “Yeah...he...rescued Io, right? Tricked Argos into shutting his eyes and...and stole her away?” 

“That’s right,” she gave her daughter a proud smile. “You remembered.” 

Of course I did, those… you loved those stories as much as we did. “Mom, I-” 

But another sudden switch occurred then, and Juliet was silenced as her mother’s thin arms wound tightly around her. “Don’t let him ruin you, Juliet. Stay you, my sweet girl.” 

“Who, mom? Who are you…” She hugged her mother back, turning her head to rest it on the woman’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of her hair. “Who are you afraid of?” 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

She hadn’t gotten an answer from her then, but now, placing a shaking hand on the intricate doorknob, Juliet thought she knew who her mother was referring to.

If what I read was… she meant… Oh, mom… 

Opening the door, she stepped inside and turned slowly as her eyes raked over the contents of the room- the full bookshelf, the empty easel, the chaise lounge with the paisley patterned pillows. But it was the small, silver frame on the side table near the window seat and the photo in it that made the tears that she’d been holding back came spilling out. A few steps brought her close enough to reach out, fingertips brushing the bunch of tiny purple flowers before making contact with the cool metal of the picture frame. A sob broke free of her lungs as she picked up the picture, tracing the edge of the frame with the pointer finger of her free hand. 

He was always trying to protect me. 

She took the frame and crossed the room to sink into the chaise, leaning back into the pillows with the picture in her hands. “I’m sorry, Logan...I’m so…” a sob cut her quiet apology short and she forced her eyes shut, tears slipping from under the closed lids. The stories she told us… When she blinked her eyes open again, she turned her head to look out at where the lilac bush had grown back just as strong and full after the two of them had nearly demolished it with their small bodies and flailing limbs. They were about her and… and Dad and...and me and Logan. She was… another sob wracked her chest. She was trying to warn me. 

“Just like Logan was,” she whispered to the empty room that she’d avoided for so long. 

Setting the frame aside, she glanced over at the door to make sure that it was still closed and that no one had followed her before pulling her phone from her pocket and opening her email. Scrolling through, she found the one that she’d happened upon by accident in her father’s study; one she was certain that he nor her husband wanted her to see, so she had forwarded it to herself to give herself more time to process what it said. What it meant. 

We’ll make it look like a preventative move- come out strong and say that the new QA procedures are being put in place to assure guests that the kinds of things Logan was accusing me of couldn’t happen in our parks. Face it, Jim, neither of us thought he’d pull through from that last bender, but he did and we need to get on the right side of it while the iron is hot. 

She read through the excerpt that had shattered her world, each word that she read making her cringe more than the last. Why are you so hell bent on how you look if you haven’t done anything wrong, William? And… The second question only made her head swim even more. And if Dad...if he knows… then he knows that Logan wasn’t… I need to find out more information. I need to… I- 

She took a deep breath then, and thought of the letter she’d received a few weeks back from her brother, of the way that the elongated letters of his handwriting pleaded with her to reach out to him when she was ready to talk again. He apologized in more words than she could ever recall him using to express how sorry he was for how things fell apart. He asked her to please consider that what he’d told her was the truth. He promised that he’d never stop trying to protect her, even if she couldn’t understand what he meant. He told her that he’d earn her trust again, and that he’d work hard to keep it this time. 

Swallowing the rest of the tears she felt building, Juliet licked at her bottom lip, tasting salt. She looked down at the picture that her mother had cherished for all those years, and picked it up again, deciding then that it shouldn’t stay down here, locked away and out of sight. She decided to make her own promise to Logan- that she’d find a way to prove that her father and William were covering something up- something big, possibly bigger than what had happened to her brother in the park.

 I know I messed up, Logan. 

She wiped at her eyes and turned the frame over to undo the fastenings and pop the picture out. The photo paper was slightly yellowed at the edges, a sign of how much time had passed since things were carefree- for me. They were carefree for me, but he… Dad was always hard on him, wasn’t he? Tucking the photo into her pocket with her phone, Juliet stood and crossed the room to set the empty frame back on the table, next to the fresh cut lilacs that the staff had always brought into their mother’s room. 

That was him too, wasn’t it? Juliet couldn’t be sure, but she knew that she hadn’t said anything to the staff about their mother’s affinity for the soft purple blossoms, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it hadn’t been her father. He always… He always put us first, Mom and I. I...I see that now, and I’ll… I promise, Logan, I’ll find a way to fix this. 

“This time around, Logan, I’ll find a way to help you.”

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Thank you a million times to all you fabulous artists! If you are an artist in the Ben Barnes fandom, or if you want to surprise an artist with a quick drabble, send me a message or link me to the piece of artwork that you would like me to write about. Let’s show these talented folks how much we appreciate them and the things that they create!

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