After two in the morning, despite the usual leniency my last name provided, the head nurse still ended up booting me from Logan's hospital room. She told me I could return at seven when the hospital opened for visitation. It was aggravating, but a quick phone call with a very high Henry gave me insight into my current condition.

The stench of sweat and smoke sunk deep into every fiber of my clothes, and my hair had dried in a foul, greasy, stiff mess that crinkled when I ran my hand through it. I needed a shower and only realized the fact with Henry's chortling words.

Driving home with my music blaring through the speaker system did nothing to keep my thoughts tethered. I couldn't concentrate on the lyrics, the sick double bass that vibrated the interior, or the guitar solo that just shredded through every stroke of the chords. It was miserable, and I couldn't do anything about it.

I made myself walk slow when I arrived at the complex. At some point, we must have received a light drizzle, the asphalt and concrete slicked over with a layer of thin ice. As soon as I broke through the door, that caution was thrown to the wind, and I nearly ran to the shower, completely forgetting a towel.

Despite my mind compelling me to hasten the process, the mess that is my hair takes some time to detangle and wash properly. I'd almost decided I was better off bald but stopped the electric shaver about an inch from the fine golden strands. It didn't matter if I hurried my shower along or sped back to the hospital. I'd timed it, and even living on the outskirts of Blue Fields, the drive was only twenty-seven minutes, so I'd have several hours of waiting anyway.

Cursing under my breath, I step out of the shower and into the steam that blooms thick and heavy around me. Remembering I forgot the stupid fucking towel, I curse again, louder this time, and am about to trudge out of the bathroom when Nick sneaks up on me.

You can use the flames for that, he whispers timidly.

Nick was a shy man, the complete opposite of the other incarnates, myself included. Vice versa, Mason had been more tempermental, more of a loose cannon than any of the hound's hosts. It's why he drank himself into oblivion after Nick's death and ended up bleeding out at the bottom of a canyon.

I hiss and turn my mind away from the remembrance of his broken body as Nick had watched on before the cycle had ripped him away to whatever hellscape they all returned to when it was their time. When it was our time.

Frigid jabs climbed up my spine, and I shiver at the thought.

"And how do I do that?" I ask, pretending I'm not as shaken up as I feel. I'm pretty sure Nick knows regardless, considering the fuckers are always in my thoughts, but I won't admit it out loud.

Just ask the flames.

Awesome. I have no idea what the fuck that means. "Any other helpful tips?"

Nick doesn't say anything. Of course.

Uttering an angry sigh, I grumble to myself as I trail water through the apartment to my linen closet, grabbing a towel before heading to the room. I've finished getting ready in a few minutes, and I leave as quickly as the ice allows. It's still only three-ish when I leave, and I enter the hospital lobby far too early. Upon seeing me, the receptionist scowled, though she thought I didn't see it when I approached her, all smiles and sickly sweet words.

"I'm just hanging around the lobby until visitation opens," I say as a formality.

"Oh, honey. That's a good three hours away, and you look like you could use some sleep. Maybe go home and rest? I can let whoever you're visiting know you'll be back."

I firmly shake my head. There's a reason I need to be here when Logan wakes up, and I'm entirely unwilling to tell someone who could report it to Mary. "I'll be fine," I manage, my voice stiff with aggravation.

She nods, her smile faltering a little. I'd feel bad if she hadn't reacted so poorly to seeing me walk into the building.

"Well, feel free to have a seat," she says sweetly. "The chairs aren't too terribly comfortable, but—"

"I'll be fine," I repeat, leaving her desk and settling down between two beautiful monsteras. It's about an hour, on the brink of losing my mind to all of the voracious thoughts swirling in my brain when a familiar face steps through the sliding glass doors.

"Figured as much. You look bloody banjaxed, there," Henry says with a disappointed look on his face.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, exhaustion an anchor in my voice, skimming past that lingering disappointment. I'd long since grown used to it.

"The real question is, what are you doing here."

"I think that's obvious."

"Humor me."

I roll my eyes and let out a hissing sigh. "Because if I'm not here, he'll bolt."

"How do ya know?" Henry challenges. "You couldn't set an alarm? Quit bein' a pox, Aden. You could've done a number of things—"

"Because I can't, Henry!" My outburst probably would have been louder if I wasn't as tired as I was, but my tone carries the irritation well enough that his eyes narrow.

Instead of retaliating anger, Henry's shoulders drop, and he shakes his head. "You could've asked me to stay here in your stead. I would've done it; you know I would."

That's true. He wouldn't have hesitated to do it if I'd voiced my concerns during our phone call a couple hours ago, but….

"No, Henry. That's not-I wouldn't be able to sleep even if I'd tried. It would've just been a losing battle, and I…I just feel more comfortable being nearby."

Henry's disappointed expression immediately falls to the wayside. "Oh, lad…" he murmurs with a soft hum. "Okay, I get it. I don't gotta like it, but I get it." With that, he settles into the seat next to me and we sit in comfortable silence until visitation begins.

As soon as the doors open, I ring off Logan's name and room number. There was a shift change at six, so I'm no longer dealing with the middle-aged woman with attitude but rather a younger college girl whose smile radiates tangible warmth instead of cold consolations. She writes up my guest badge and offers one to Henry, who declines, insisting that he doesn't want to overwhelm the patient.

I hadn't thought about that.

Henry waves me off, and I'm too eager to thank him for his thoughtfulness as I immediately round the corner and step into the long corridor. Decorated with fake plants and fancy pictures against the beige walls that adorn every Kellington medical facility, I grow sick. I usually don't visit places so saturated in my family's name, but I don't really have a choice. Only Logan's well-being keeps me headed toward the end, where his little room number displays itself over a bronze plate.

I swing through the door, only briefly flashing my badge at a nurse who watched me with a skewering gaze. But someone else is already here. How he broke in before visiting hours, I don't fucking know. Still, it's immediately obvious that Logan recognizes him.

"Mr. Haro—" A wracking cough cuts his words short and drips magma down into my lungs. He's in so much pain.

But the sound is enough to wake the elderly man seated at Logan's side. Somber-glazed eyes lighten with hope as he notices movement. "Thank the heavens you're awake," he says, abruptly standing to his feet.

He disappears behind the privacy curtain hanging around Logan, and I feel a pit forming in the center of my stomach. After yesterday, any stranger who lingers near Logan has me standing on a sheer cliff edge, the wind behind me urging me to jump to conclusions. This old man seems kind enough, especially considering his visit. But I don't recognize him as the man who pulled Logan from the flames.

"Why are you apologizing?" comes Logan's croaking question.

I want to ask the same thing. If I'm right in my assumptions, I think this may be the property owner.

"What happened?"

As Mr. Haroldson begins to explain, I feel a hand come to rest on my shoulder. "Come, lad," Henry whispers, tugging at the long sleeve of my shirt. 

I jump a little, remembering that Henry hadn't taken the badge. He must have gotten one as soon as I left, considering he has one identical to mine.

I hesitantly follow him into the corridor, unwilling to make a scene when Logan doesn't know I'm here. Nurses watch me under scrutinizing gazes, and I have to try hard not to jump to conclusions about what they have and haven't told Mary.

As soon as we're out, Henry leaves very little room for comment as he continues, "Let's give 'im a bit of privacy. We'll go to the cafeteria and get 'im some food. Sure he'll be hungry when he gets his bearings."

I'm having difficulty walking away from the door, so Henry steps behind me and shoves me forward.

"Don't mean to be the arsehole here, lad, but you're gonna end up getting in more trouble than you already are," he says as we exit the heavy doors of the ER and out into the lobby. "I already talked with one of the little nurses they got scurrying about. She told me he won't be eligible for release this morning, so ya don't gotta worry 'bout him takin' off."

I didn't think anything could put me at ease in this situation, but those words immediately have a physical effect on me. Shoulders droop as the tension leaves, exhaustion settling as a warm blanket over my eyes. Henry snickers beside me, well aware of what he's done, with a smirk that says, "I told you so," splitting his expression.

I roll my eyes and issue a hushed "Thank you" as the cafeteria emerges from the innards of the hospital. Finally, a smell that isn't chemical.

Henry grabs a breakfast burrito and a small coffee. I follow him, adding a second burrito, a cup of fruit, and a small yogurt. As soon as Henry's paid, the young man at the cash register waves me through.

I blink in surprise and look over to Henry. "Did you pay for mine?"

"No, sir. I just recognize you, and Dr. Kellington provides food for his staff and family, so you're all good to go," the cashier intervenes.

I watch the guy make a note reading Aden Kellington, BB (x2), CF, Yogurt. Something inside screams of the unintended malevolence that little note will insight, but I don't have the energy to pretend to be someone I wasn't.

Instead of heading to Logan's room with me, Henry starts toward the exit. A frown forms and I shoot him a look.

"I just wanted breakfast, mate," he says with a smile and a short chuckle. "'E doesn't need more people crowdin' him right after wakin' up."

A breath of relief flows from me. Of course Henry thought about that. It's Henry. And for all his shortcomings, the guy is one of the most sincere and thoughtful people I've ever met.

"Thanks, man," I say, stepping toward him and giving him a quick hug. He returns it warmly before pulling away and entering the cold fall morning.