Jun 10
The Walkers lose their favorite person in the world.
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The Walkers lose their favorite person in the world.
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a little logan drabble cause im sad and i need a semi healthy way to let it out :/
before he understood what the feeling actually meant, Logan never felt like he belonged. whether it was trying to hang out with his brothers friends or in middle school doing a project, he never felt like there was enough space for him. it wasn’t the fact that he didn’t want to be involved, he just.. wasn’t.
he would be ignored, assigned mundane tasks while everyone else did something important. something creditable, something that would get them out there and show the world that they mattered. that they did something worth praising.
when there was a conversation happening, he would always be the last one to make sense of it. not because he wasn’t present, but because everybody refused to use any crucial words or open up a new topic around him. it was so brutal, so obvious he was being left out, and he never realized why.
the only support system he had was his brother, but even so, he couldnt rely on Hesh forever.
so he stopped.
stopped asking what’s happening, stopped trying to be included into something he never was a part of in the first place, stopped trying to improve and move higher and just accepted what was given to him.
stopped talking.
and when he did, slowly but surely, he realized that even then nobody noticed. he was always a background character, somebody not worthy confiding into. somebody who would give everything he had to anyone, but would never receive the same treatment.
somebody with the purest, kindest heart that just wanted to feel a little love.
a little something.
i often feel that way.
I’m really bad at stealth but love this mission
logan finna be in the pit
Sugar and Lemon, Chapter 7 "An Orison"
Warning: Self-deprecating thoughts, mention of scars and stitches, David/Kick if you squint really hard, swearing, banter, hugs :), dialogue-heavy chapter?, inaccurate description of PTSD and military rules
A/N🪶: Hi hi, enjoy enjoy <3 Song suggestion/inspiration for this chapter: Owlbears by Foxwood.
Word Count: 3.4K
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I wrote this thinking of shenanigans these boys got into before all hell broke loose.
If you ask why elias didnt wake up at the sounds.... hes on Zolpidem for the horrors.
The house is quiet in that deep, middle of the night way where every little sound feels louder than it should.
Logan Walker is twelve and awake for the most important reason possible.
Water.
He pads down the hallway barefoot, hair a mess, half asleep and squinting at the faint glow from the kitchen clock.
The floorboards creak.
He doesn’t bother being quiet. Everyone’s asleep.
He grabs a glass from the cabinet, fills it from the sink, and takes a long drink.
That’s when he hears it.
A dull thump.
Followed by the quiet scrape of something against tile.
Logan freezes.
The sound came from the bathroom.
He lowers the glass slowly.
Another noise.
A quiet grunt.
Logan tilts his head.
Then he grins.
Because there is exactly one person stupid enough to make that sound in the middle of the night.
He creeps down the short hall toward the bathroom and pushes the door open.
And there, framed in the tiny window above the toilet, is fourteen year old David Walker.
Half inside the house.
Half outside.
His arms are planted on the tile counter.
His torso is in the room.
But his legs are still dangling out the window into the dark backyard.
They lock eyes.
David freezes like a raccoon caught in a flashlight beam.
Logan leans against the doorframe, smiling slowly.
“Well.”
David exhales.
“Logan.”
“David.”
They stare at each other.
Logan takes another sip of water like he’s watching television.
“You’re stuck.”
“I’m not stuck.”
“You’re very stuck.”
David tries to shift.
His sneaker knocks the outside siding with a hollow thunk.
“…Okay maybe a little stuck.”
Logan sets the glass on the counter.
“Oh man.”
“What.”
“Oh man.”
“What!!”
“You snuck out.”
David groans quietly.
“Logan-”
“You snuck out.”
“Yes.”
Logan crosses his arms, absolutely delighted.
“Oh this is good.”
David struggles forward another inch and finally manages to drag one leg inside.
“Please don’t wake Dad.”
Logan crouches and grabs the back of David’s hoodie.
“Hold still.”
“I’m holding still.”
“You’re wiggling.”
“I’m not wiggling.”
“You’re definitely wiggling.”
Logan gives a solid tug and David tumbles fully into the bathroom, landing with a soft thud against the tile.
They both freeze.
Listening.
Silence.
No footsteps.
No angry dad.
David exhales.
“Okay.”
Logan crouches beside him, inspecting.
“You’re covered in dirt.”
David looks down.
Yeah.
His jeans are dusty. His sneakers have grass stuck to them.
His hands are smudged.
Logan’s grin gets wider.
“Oh you’re in trouble.”
“No I’m not.”
“Oh you absolutely are.”
David points a finger at him. “You’re not saying anything.”
Logan stands slowly.
“I might.”
“You’re not.”
“I might.”
“Logan.”
“David.”
They stare at each other again.
Then Logan’s eyes drift to David’s neck.
He squints.
“…What’s that.”
David goes still.
“What.”
“That.”
Logan steps closer.
Leans in.
And then he bursts into silent laughter.
“Oh my god.”
David clamps a hand over his neck instantly.
“Shut up.”
“That’s a hickey.”
“It is not.”
“It absolutely is.”
“It’s a mosquito bite.”
Logan laughs harder.
“A mosquito with lips?”
“Logan!”
Logan wipes tears from his eyes.
“Oh my god. Dad is going to kill you.”
“PLEASE don’t tell him.”
“Dad’s going to bury you in the yard.”
“Logan!”
David grabs his shoulders.
“Please. Please please please don’t tell him.”
Logan looks very serious suddenly.
“Hmm.”
“Logan.”
“This is serious information.”
David groans.
“You’re the worst.”
“I know.”
Logan gestures to the dirt.
“You’ve got evidence everywhere.”
“I’ll clean it.”
“You climbed through a window.”
“I know.”
“You have a hickey.”
“I KNOW.”
Logan leans against the sink, enjoying this way too much.
“So here’s the deal.”
David narrows his eyes.
“Oh god.”
Logan raises a finger.
“One.”
“No.”
“One.”
“Logan.”
“You take me to the skate park whenever I ask.”
“…Fine.”
“Two.”
“No.”
“Two.”
“What.”
“You do my chores for two weeks.”
David stares at him.
“Two weeks??”
Logan shrugs.
“It’s a serious crime.”
David sighs.
“Fine.”
“And three.”
“There’s a three?”
“Oh yeah.”
Logan points at his neck.
“You tell me everything.”
David goes red.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not discussing that with my twelve year old brother.”
Logan turns toward the hallway.
“Daaaad-”
“WAIT.”
David grabs his arm.
“…Fine.”
Logan grins like a villain.
“What’s her name.”
David sighs like his soul is leaving his body.
“Emily.”
“Oooo.”
“Shut up.”
“Did you kiss her?”
“Yes.”
“That’s why you snuck out?”
“Yes.”
Logan nods thoughtfully.
“…Worth it?”
David hesitates.
Then smirks slightly.
“…Yeah.”
Logan grins.
“Nice.”
They stand there a second.
Then Logan grabs a towel and tosses it at him.
“Clean up, Romeo.”
David wipes the dirt off his hands.
“You’re evil.”
“I’m resourceful.”
David heads toward the stairs.
Halfway up he pauses.
“Logan?”
“Yeah.”
“…Thanks for helping me in the window.”
Logan shrugs.
“Next time use the door.”
David snorts.
Then quietly disappears upstairs.
Logan waits a second.
Then he whispers to himself with a smug grin:
“Two weeks of chores.”
Best midnight water run ever.
i can't help but think about the boo crew learning theyre getting a newbie.
"what the fuck." logan.
"you're kidding. clowning. i detect clowns." hesh.
"another child to train?" keegan.
"will you idiots relax?" merrick.
and when *you* show up, well...
they're all standing on the tarmac, in full kit. leaning against a transport looking their best intimidating selves. keegan with the dark eye black and piercing, icy stare that makes even the bravest of generals stutter a bit.
logan, dark eyes scanning the lot, sharp enough to cut anyone who comes too close.
hesh next to him, green eyes fixed on the chopper like it'll open fire any minute.
and merrick, classic leader type, just watches the chopper descend. assessing.
the rotors whir as they slow, and the door opens. you hop out like you own the joint.
a woman.
their eyes all collectively widen, sharing glances that all ask the same question.
how the actual fuck did they find a woman, not only capable enough, but was actually dumb enough, to accept an assignment like this? is it a punishment? or worse, did you actually want to be here?
they weren't sexist by a long shot, no. that wasn't the problem. they knew, in their own ways, that women were just as, if not more so, qualified and capable to do their job. they knew damn well that a woman on the team was probably more dangerous than all of them combined if she were assigned here.
she walks toward them, all confidence. cold eyes.
they'd swear til their graves it wasn't because they were starved for a woman, but these men drooled.
over the next months, they all went out of their ways to make her life easier, in any way they could.
keegan would have coffee set up the night before, so all she had to do was press a button when she woke up for her jog at 4am.
hesh would slip extra rations in her pack if he knew she was being sent off-base for an op, typically volunteering to go with her.
logan would make sure all her gear was stocked, ammo and all. fresh glow sticks, batteries in her nvgs, even her granola bar stash in her duffle bag found a few protein bars.
merrick got her a signature stamp so her reporting would go smoother, hours of paperwork shaved to an hour or two.
she was theirs.
she treated them with the same caring they showed her. it took her a few weeks to learn their routines. got keegan's shower stuff whenever she saw it out and about. found logan's preferred liquor stocked up in the common room. managed to learn that hesh was allergic to pine nuts, and made sure to check, twice, three times before giving him a granola bar. she eventually even found a neat pen somewhere in federation territory, a pen she knew merrick would like because of how smooth it wrote.
she may be quiet, hardly speaking unless absolutely necessary, typically barking commands or whispering status checks into comms.
but she was theirs. and they were hers.
Writing anything about Logan and Hesh's backstory is always emotional. Those boys went through it. They canonly lost their mom when they were young, theb their dad, and eachother in one fell swoop. I wanted to write something for the boys. But I couldn't decide whether it was gonna be David meeting Logan or the loss of Mama Walker. I split these up.
She really didn't want to be viewed at the funeral home. She loved her house, the memories, the love, her boys, her husband. Elias knew he would have to do right by her and have her celebration of life at home.
To Logan…The house feels wrong.
Not quiet. Not loud. Just wrong.
Like someone moved the walls half an inch in and he didn't know how to breathe anymore.
People fill every room. Low voices. The smell of coffee that’s gone bitter from sitting too long. Someone brought casseroles. Everyone keeps touching Elias’s shoulder like he might shatter.
The casket sits at the front of the foyer.
Open.
White.
Logan hasn’t looked at it.
He’s in the corner by the hallway, back pressed flat against the wall like if he holds it hard enough the world can’t knock him over. His arms are crossed tight over his chest. His jaw is locked so hard it hurts.
He’s not crying.
He’s furious.
David stands near his dad. Twelve years old and trying so hard to stand like a man. Elias’s hand rests heavy on his shoulder. Not crushing. Just grounding.
Elias looks wrecked. His uniform is crisp. His eyes aren’t. He keeps nodding when people say “She was wonderful” like he doesn’t already know.
Gabriel Rorke stands beside them. Younger. Broader. Solid as a wall. He speaks low to Elias, steady, practical. The kind of voice that holds things together.
David only half hears it.
Because Logan isn’t here.
Not really.
David slips out from under his dad’s hand.
He crosses the room quietly, shoes silent against the carpet. He stops a few feet from his brother.
“Lo.”
No response.
Logan’s eyes are red but dry. He’s staring at nothing.
“She’s in there,” David says softly.
Logan’s jaw twitches. “No she’s not.”
David swallows.
“She is.”
“No she’s not.” Logan’s voice cracks this time. Angry. Desperate. “That’s not her.”
It’s the first thing he’s said all day.
David glances toward the casket. Toward the soft murmur of adults. Toward their dad trying not to fold in half.
Then back to his brother.
Logan’s hands are shaking.
“She’s not in there,” Logan whispers. “She can’t be. She was just here. She made pancakes for us just a week ago.”
His breathing gets sharp. Short.
David steps closer.
“She’s not gonna wake up,” Logan says, voice rising, like he’s daring someone to contradict him. “They’re lying. They’re all lying. It won't get better.”
He kicks the wall hard enough that it hurts his own foot. He doesn’t react.
David grabs his shoulders.
“Logan.”
“I don’t want to see her like that.” It finally breaks out of him. Raw. Ugly. “I don’t want her to look like that.”
And there it is.
He’s not mad.
He’s terrified.
David pulls him in without thinking.
Logan resists for half a second, then collapses into him like a building losing its supports. He buries his face into David’s chest and the sob that tears out of him is so loud a few adults look over.
David holds him tighter.
He’s twelve.
He doesn’t know how to do this.
He just wraps both arms around his little brother and anchors him.
“I’ll go with you,” David murmurs into his hair.
Logan shakes his head violently. “No.”
“I’ll hold your hand.”
“No.”
“We don’t have to stay long.”
Logan grips the front of David’s shirt so hard it wrinkles. “What if she looks sad?”
David’s throat closes.
“She won’t. She'll look like shes sleeping” he says carefully.
“That’s worse.”
David presses his cheek against Logan’s head.
He remembers how their mom used to do that. When Logan scraped his knees. When David got in trouble at school. She’d press her cheek to their hair like she could breathe calm into them.
“She wouldn’t want you to be scared,” David whispers.
Logan’s crying is quiet now. Trembling. Small.
“She’d want you to say bye.”
Logan sniffles. “You go first.”
“I will.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
David pulls back just enough to look at him.
“I won’t let go.”
Logan nods once. Barely.
Across the room, Elias watches them. His eyes glassy. His jaw clenched. Gabriel Rorke stands beside him, silent now.
“That one,” Rorke murmurs quietly, nodding toward David. “He’s strong.”
Elias exhales through his nose. It almost breaks halfway out.
“He shouldn’t have to be.”
David takes Logan’s hand.
Logan grips it so tight it hurts.
They walk together.
Slow.
Every step feels wrong. Like walking through water.
The room hushes as they approach.
David feels every eye on them.
He doesn’t care.
He looks at his mom first.
She looks peaceful. Too peaceful. Too still. Her hands folded. Hair brushed carefully. She looks like she’s sleeping but not breathing.
It hits him in the chest like a punch.
He sways.
Logan’s grip tightens.
“I’m here,” David whispers.
Logan squeezes his eyes shut. “Tell me if she looks okay.”
David swallows. Hard.
“She looks like Mom.”
That’s all he can manage.
Logan opens his eyes slowly.
One second.
Two.
Three.
The sound he makes is tiny. Not a sob. Not a cry. Just a small wounded animal sound that doesn’t belong to a ten year old boy.
He steps closer.
Still holding David’s hand.
He reaches out with his free hand and hovers over hers.
He doesn’t touch.
“She’s cold,” he whispers, even though he hasn’t felt it yet.
David nods.
“Yeah.”
Logan finally lays his fingers over their mother’s knuckles.
Flinches.
But doesn’t pull away.
“I’m right here,” David says again.
Logan leans into him, shoulder pressed to chest.
“I don’t wanna forget her voice.”
“You won’t.”
“What if I do?”
“Then I’ll remember it for you.”
Logan nods again. Small. Fragile.
Across the room, Elias finally looks away. His composure cracks just enough that Rorke subtly steps closer, a silent brace.
David stands there as long as Logan needs.
Hand locked with his.
Twelve years old.
Becoming something he never asked to be.
More than big brother.
And he will never let go.