Chapter Text
Years ago
Stepping inside the shade of the inn brought a welcome reprieve after the last few hours on goatback. The place was packed — the cacophony of intoxicated shouting and laughing a stark contrast to the endless silence of the desert. The crowd was unexpected, much larger than the village justified. It must be a popular stop for travellers and the like.
As the odour of stale beer and too many bodies caught up to him, Logan wrinkled his nose before starting the precarious dance of weaving through the maze of tightly packed tables towards the bar. Based on the slip of paper crumpled in his pocket, the barkeep was the contact person for the bounty.
It wasn't supposed to be a complicated job. Excavation efforts nearby had unearthed an aggressive robot, and they were offering enough to make it worth the nearly 8-hour ride from Sandrock. He was going to head out tomorrow first thing in the morning, kill it, and sleep in his own bed that night.
Ever since he passed the age of 20, his Pa had let him venture further and further out for bounties, trusting the skills he'd instilled in his son. This was neither the first time nor the biggest distance he'd travelled from home alone, but it still felt weird to hunt without Howlett.
Leaning one elbow on the bar, Logan slid the piece of paper across the worn wood, catching the attention of the burly man in the midst of pouring shots of bottom-shelf whiskey. He glanced at the poster and shook his head, muttering under his breath.
"Is there a problem?" Logan asked.
This was not the part of the bounty where he expected running into difficulties.
"Not for me," he sighed, scratching his messy beard thoughtfully. "There are already two hunters here, arrived a few hours ago," he shrugged. "You'll have to split the money or something."
He jabbed a finger towards the corner of the room before moving on to the next customer.
Another monster hunter? And not one, but two? Logan cursed to himself as he turned around, his bad luck souring his mood. Things like this happened every once in a while, and people were generally willing to team up and split the profit; still, it meant less money for him at the end.
He scanned the crowd, gaze soon settling on the table by the stairs and the two blonde heads deep in discussion above a map of some sort.
Well, he'd be damned. His luck might not have run out completely.
He made his way over, keeping an eye on the visibly heated conversation. He was only a few steps away when the man looked up, their eyes locking before a smile spread across his weary face.
"Look who the cat dragged in!" he exclaimed, leaning back in his chair.
"Great to see ya too, Alec."
The man was about the same age as Howlett, with close-cropped blonde hair that gave him an air of authority. His sharp jawline and piercing eyes had been softened by age, creases around them revealing a lifetime of worry. He'd been a secondary father figure to Logan, pretty much from the moment they'd met nearly ten years earlier. Howlett and Alec had gotten along instantly, supporting each other through the loss of their wives and single fatherhood.
The two children, however…
Logan broke eye contact with him and looked to the other occupied chair, meeting a blue gaze several shades darker than his own.
"Howdy, Mills."
He tipped his hat with a smirk, knowing damn well that using the nickname would annoy her.
"Logan," she sighed, rolling her eyes as she so often did in his presence.
The resemblance between the two was striking; the same cut of jaw, the same defined nose and slightly tilted eyes. Without the age difference, they'd have even passed for twins, though the similarities just about ended there. Her chin-length hair was a bit darker than her father's, framing softer eyebrows and lightly freckled cheeks. But it was their personalities that couldn't have been more different.
He didn't really know what he'd committed to get on her bad side, but she never hesitated to express her displeasure with whatever he said or did. She had always been a mystery to him, seemingly impossible that the child of such a friendly, outgoing man would grow up to be so reserved. She'd preferred books over people, going quiet as soon as strangers entered the conversation. Which was strange, considering she tended to be genuinely witty around the ones she knew.
Logan pulled out an empty chair, plopping himself down and propping one of his boots on the table. He leaned back in his seat, enjoying her death glare aimed at the offending footwear. He flashed her a grin before turning towards Alec.
"No Howlett?" he asked, quickly taking stock of the patrons of the inn.
"Just me this time, Pa had to stay behind. Pay's good enough to split up."
"Yeah, we are lucky there aren't more hunters angling for it… yet."
"Presuming yer willing to work together, how are we doin' this?"
"Actually, I'm glad you turned up," he interlaced his fingers and laid his elbows on the table. "Camille got it into her head that she wants to do it alone, to prove Light knows what."
"You know I'm right here?" she interjected.
She folded her arms, huffing in exasperation, and Logan realised this had likely been the topic of their earlier, visibly tense conversation.
"She doesn't need to prove anything, of course," he continued, promptly ignoring her remark. "But we all know there's no changing her mind once she's decided something."
Logan chuckled; in general, the two of them were mostly polar opposites, but when it came to stubbornness, they were one and the same.
"With you here, though, we have a good compromise," Alec continued. "You could go with her instead, keep an eye out and make sure everything goes well, and you can split the money in half."
It was financially a fantastic proposal, but Camille's groan of frustration let him know she did not agree.
"I don't need a chaperone!" she hissed. "When are you going to treat me like an adult?"
Her dad's weary sigh made it clear this was not the first argument on the topic. It was a familiar sight — he used to pester his Pa with the same thing a few years back, his teenage self eager to grow up.
"You've just turned eighteen, give your old man some time to get used to it," he pleaded. "I know you're an adult, and I know I can't stop you, that's why I want Logan to at least go with you. We have no idea what that robot is capable of, I…"
His voice broke off, and he needed a few moments to collect himself. "It is highly risky, and there are too many unknowns. You'll get plenty of chances to hunt alone, but either Logan is going with you, or I am."
She shook her head before burying her face in her palms.
"Awesome," her skin could not muffle the sarcasm, frustration dripping from that single word.
She then stood up, turning her gaze on Logan. "See you tomorrow morning, I guess. Don't be late, or I'm leaving you here."
With that, she was gone, taking the stairs two steps at a time.
Alec smiled at him apologetically.
"Sorry for dragging you into this, son… It's getting harder to keep her safe, and if anything happens to her…"
Logan's throat squeezed at seeing him like this — he seemed to carry a bone-deep exhaustion he hadn't seen before.
Living on the road must've been tough; he couldn't even imagine life without Sandrockers, moving from village to village chasing bounties for so many years.
"But enough about my pity party," he waved his hand in the air, as if his problems were merely annoying insects he could shoo away. "It's been almost a year, how are you two doing?"
Their footsteps echoed on the stones as they stepped inside the cave, the shade providing instant relief from the relentless rays of the sun. Logan blinked to adjust to the darkness, listening for any sound that could indicate what they were up against.
Camille stood next to him, taking her time to observe their surroundings. She sniffed the air, which had always been a comical sight in his opinion, but there was no denying it; her sense of smell was exceptional. Albeit downright unsettling at times, its usefulness couldn't be overstated on hunts.
Though based on her frustrated huff, not this time.
She turned to him, a type of determination burning in her eyes that promised nothing good.
He raised an eyebrow, and she straightened her back in response, lifting her chin as if ready for a fight. With the top of her head coming up to only his chest, she looked about as threatening as a pensky, but he did everything to suppress the twitch of his lips.
"I know I can do this alone, and I want to prove it."
He narrowed his eyes at her.
"Technically, we don't even know what's in there," he pointed out.
"Whatever type that robot might be," she rolled her eyes. "I am capable of killing it myself."
"I know, Mills."
She opened her mouth, ready to argue, before his words seemed to get through to her. She clearly expected a different answer from him, and the blatant confusion taking over her face was incredibly entertaining.
"Uh… what?" she squeaked, quickly clearing her throat in an attempt to seem nonchalant.
"Yer a great hunter and I'm pretty sure yer ready fer most things," he explained.
It wasn't a lie, not even an exaggeration. Numerous times she'd demonstrated excellent combat and tracking skills, staying levelheaded in risky situations and slaying monsters efficiently. She did have difficulty following orders when she believed her perspective was better, but that was something Logan could relate to. Which is why he had a pretty good idea what her next suggestion was going to be.
"Well, if that's the case, there's no reason not to let me try alone, is there?"
He crossed his arms on his chest, frowning.
"'Cept I promised yer Pa I'd keep you safe."
She rolled her eyes as if expecting to keep a promise was completely unreasonable.
"But you can do that from the sidelines, no need to be involved in the fight!"
"An' why would I do that?"
"Because I asked nicely?"
"Oh, did you? Must've missed it," he cocked an eyebrow, challenge clear as day.
Her indignant huff let him know he won this round, and he couldn't hold back a triumphant grin.
"Please, Logan!" she gave in, some of her desperation seeping into her voice. "I have to do this…"
"But why? You've got nothin' to prove to any of us."
"It's for myself…" she finally admitted, looking down at her feet.
Logan groaned, caught between the two sides. His promise to Alec contrasted with her plea, born of the same self-doubt he was so familiar with.
"I don't like this," he began with a sigh. "I'll let you go at it alone, but yer not allowed to get hurt. Anythin' goes amiss, I'm steppin' in!"
Her eyes widened in surprise, mouth opening and closing several times before she found her voice.
"Thank you," a small smile played across her lips. "I kinda expected having to fight you to get what I want."
Logan snorted.
"Now that I'd like to see!"
That earned him a scowl, and she punched him in the shoulder slightly harder than necessary.
"Way to ruin the mood instantly…"
She shook her head in disapproval, turning on her heel and marching deeper into the cave.
They only needed to walk a few minutes before the whirring of electronics filled the air. The darkness started to dissolve as a faint, cold glow emanated from an opening in the stone. They peeked inside and found what seemed to be the ruins of an Old World facility of some kind. Various workstations and machines lined the walls, tools and papers scattered across the dark metal floor.
A tall, sturdy robot stood across the room, obviously a guardian of the facility. The rectangular torso slid around the place on wheels, two long arms protruding from the upper half with far too many tools and weapons attached for comfort. Its head swivelled constantly, the built-in screen displaying a stylised angry face.
Before he could say anything, Camille was already inside, drawing her gun and aiming at the machine.
"Peach, help me," Logan whispered, climbing through and crouching behind a stack of boxes. Even though he was itching to join the fight, his curiosity helped to stay in place. He'd never had the opportunity to truly observe her in combat from the outside, so he indulged.
It was instantly obvious she'd been working on her gun handling. Her aim had improved considerably, the bullets hitting the torso making it crackle with electricity. But even more than that, it was her agility that had him captivated. She rolled around the floor with staggering speed, dodging hits that seemed impossibly fast.
She was ready, alright.
Avoiding close combat, she darted across the place, raining more bullets on whichever part of the robot she could reach. Bright sparks shot out from the holes, and the machine started visibly losing power, the dwindling speed giving her some breathing room.
She did it!
The wave of pride suddenly washing over him caught him off guard, but he didn't have much time to dwell on it. The telltale click of an empty gun rang out, momentarily freezing both of them.
"Fuck," he muttered, eyes glued to the action, muscles strung tight.
What he did not expect, however, was the robot whipping around and rolling in his direction; apparently, his swearing caught its attention.
"Oh no, you don't!" Camille yelled, giving chase.
She threw her gun on the ground, unsheathed her daggers and jumped, sinking her blades into the metal to climb onto the machine. Logan could see the flash of a victorious smile on her face before time turned elastic, stretching and snapping around him. It was too fast and too slow at once, not allowing him to intervene while still seeing the whole scene play out with painful clarity.
The robot reached back, its claws closing around her ribs with a sickening crack. Her piercing scream had him on his feet in an instant, but he was too late. All it did was grant him a better view of the arm swinging around and letting go, launching her body across the space until she crashed into a worktable and went limp.
"No!"
His scream was foreign to him, bouncing off the walls in a chorus of despair. He drew his gun and fired, one round after the other as his body moved of its own accord, muscle memory kicking in. His mind was preoccupied with her, the small, still figure he couldn't even tell was breathing or not.
By the time the robot collapsed, he was about to lose it. He crouched down next to her, cold fear gripping his rapidly beating heart.
"Please be okay, please be okay…"
He kept repeating these words as he assessed her, each added detail painting an increasingly grim picture.
Her torn shirt revealed dark bruises, already blooming across her torso, surrounding a sickening bump on the right side of her ribcage. Blood ran down her temple, and Logan moved her hair out of the way to reveal a nasty gash above her ear.
He cradled her head in his lap — to elevate it, to stop the bleeding, his brain supplied. He tried steadying his trembling hand as he reached for hers, terrified to find out the inevitable. Locking his fingers around her wrist, he felt nothing at first, his own erratic heartbeat overpowering all sensations. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing, and…
There it was, faint but unmistakable.
The pulse under her skin drummed with hope and relief that made the world around him grow hazy. He wiped a palm across his face and startled when it came away wet.
He had to get himself together.
He'd have plenty of time later to process all of this, but he needed to get her back to the village. He slid his arms under her back and knees, lifting without struggle.
"I swear I'm never makin' jokes about yer height again," he whispered.
Talking to her somehow made it easier to believe she'd be alright.
Now he just had to hope the doctor of the village was equipped to deal with this.
Logan startled awake to the opening door, lifting his head from the edge of the bed. He looked around the simple room that only housed two chairs and the sick bed, the white sheets cast in a golden glow by the rising sun. He'd fallen asleep at some point during the night.
Fuck.
Seeing his insistence, Alec had let him stay and had gone back to the inn to sleep on the condition that Logan would fetch him if anything changed. Yet another promise he failed to keep.
Guilt crashed over him in waves, his stomach churning as the entering doctor tended to Camille. He should've been there, should've interfered sooner…
"You need to get some rest, young man."
The doctor — Agatha, if he remembered correctly — was a kind woman somewhat younger than Howlett. She looked at him with barely concealed concern and what seemed like a faint, knowing smile.
He just shook his head, throat working as he observed the vials and syringes on her coat. This place was far better equipped than the size of the village would have indicated, with various medicines and tools he'd never even seen.
"Your girlfriend's strong, she'll be alright," the doctor supplied. "She can wake up anytime now."
He opened his mouth to object to the title, but stopped short. The assumption did something to him, and he would've been lying if he said he had no idea what. He'd had plenty of time alone with his thoughts during the night, and no matter which direction he tried approaching from, the conclusion was the same.
He liked her. A lot.
At least that was all he allowed himself to admit. Another word kept crawling around his mind like a bumble ant, popping up in different places whenever he tried to squash it, but it was too big, too scary, and frankly, he felt far too young for it.
"She's lucky to have you," Agatha's voice ripped him out of his thoughts, delivered with a sympathetic smile before she left the room.
He desperately wished it to be true, but he knew better. He looked at Camille, the sight of her still, vulnerable figure piercing his sternum. The guilt was back with full force, flashes from the fight assaulting his mind. It had been his fault. He shouldn't have agreed to watch from afar; at the very least, he should've stepped in when she ran out of bullets. He promised he'd protect her and failed.
She was so pale. Her hair was a golden halo on the pillow, and he could see the stitches above her ear, a narrow patch of hair shaved around it. She was going to lose her shit when she found out.
Her entire ribcage was wrapped in bandages, the loud crack as the doctor put it back in its place still haunting him.
His hand hovered over hers tentatively, the urge to touch overcoming him. Just this once.
The door creaked on its hinges again, and he jerked away, hand falling into his lap. Based on the bags under his eyes, Alec's night had not been any better than Logan's. He strode over to the bed, pulling out the chair on the other side before he collapsed into it. Even though worry radiated from his eyes, he still extended a small reassuring smile to Logan.
It made him feel even worse.
Alec leaned in and took her hand between his own, his gaze locking onto her face.
"Good morning, sunshine," then, addressing Logan. "Anything new?"
"Not really," he shook his head, quickly rehashing the doctor's words about her state. He left out the part where she was assumed to be his girlfriend.
Alec then finally looked at him, taking in his crumpled demeanour.
"How are you holding up?"
Logan stared at him in disbelief, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat. The man still didn't seem to blame him, and he had no idea why. Alec had every right to feel let down, betrayed even, but he had only reacted with kindness the day before when Logan turned up and hysterically told him everything.
"I'm okay," he lied. "Need to get goin' soon, we have 'nother bounty with Pa."
The second part was not a lie, though Howlett would've had no problem completing it alone. Some part of him wanted to stay, to see her wake up and make sure she was really okay.
But a bigger part just couldn't do it. Guilt ate at him every time he looked at either Camille or Alec, the knowledge that he let them down a knife twisting in his chest.
Besides, the longer he stayed, the bigger the chance he'd give himself away. He knew he wouldn't be able to look into her eyes — she'd catch onto his feelings immediately, feelings he had no right to act upon.
"Of course, go as you need to, wouldn't want to worry Howlett."
Logan made his way over to the door, but hesitated, turning back to meet his eyes once more. At the risk of showing more than he wanted, he spoke.
"Just let us know how she is, please!"
"I will," he nodded. "And Logan…"
He stood up and crossed to him, enveloping him in the type of tight, fatherly hug only he and Howlett were capable of.
"Thank you for saving her."
"I really didn't…"
"Stop," Alec pulled back, holding him by the shoulders. "Stop blaming yourself. You were there when it mattered and brought her back. She's going to be fine because of you!"
Logan sincerely hoped that would be the case; this guilt was more than enough to deal with. He wouldn't survive if he were responsible for permanent damage.
He nodded, glancing at Camille one last time before he darted out of the clinic.