[trigger warnings: suicide/suicidal thoughts]

LOGAN

As they rode to the graveyard, Blake hung onto Logan with one arm and mapped directions with the other. Once Logan understood the directions, the two were silent until Blake said, "Hey, that's weird."

"What's weird?"

"I typed in barmaid, death, and Madame Cobra's, and someone else's name came up."

"Are you seriously going to tell me that she was living a secret life with a different name?"

"No, it's someone else's picture in the obituary. Her name is Alyssa Henderson. She died a few weeks before Mom."

A chill ran down Logan's back. He glanced in the rear view mirror, but the black car hadn't moved an inch. "Maybe it's just a coincidence."

"Maybe," Blake said uneasily. "She died in a car accident here in town."

Logan glanced at Blake in the rear view to see why his voice was suddenly much clearer and saw that he had slid the chin of the helmet up to the bridge of his nose and was peering down at his phone. Logan elbowed him hard in the ribs. "Blake, keep your fucking helmet on!" he snapped.

He heard the helmet slide back down his face with a thump. In a small voice, Blake said, "Are you okay?"

Logan adjusted the rear view, pushing it all the way to the right so he could see down the street he had just turned from, but he couldn't see the black car anymore. It was gone.

She died in a car accident here in town.

"Just keep your helmet on, okay?"

They rode the rest of the way to the graveyard in silence. When they got there, Logan left the bike at the gravekeeper's office, and after asking him where Maria Jones's grave was, they spent a few minutes walking to it.

The grave looked identical to the hundreds of other graves there. Logan didn't know what he had expected, but it felt awkward standing at just another grave among the sea of headstones. The epitaph was a generic one, something the neighbors or her coworkers had probably paid for.

Logan shoved his hands in his pockets and waited as Blake crouched on the ground and whispered something he couldn't hear. The name on the gravestone brought back memories of a sweet, small lady who always had the time to help him with his homework and tuck him in at night.

Maria Jones had been their stepmother, had married their father two years after Blake was born, but Logan could hardly remember a time that he had consciously thought of her as a mere addition to the family instead of an original part. He couldn't remember their biological mother very well.  Maria was the only mom he knew.

When he stood up, Blake asked, "Do you want to say something?"

Logan turned away from the headstone. "I have nothing to say."

"She was your mom too."

Despite the warm memories being at the grave had brought him, there were still so many bad ones. "I didn't have a mom," he said shortly.

"Why would you say that?" Blake demanded. "She said we could call her anything we wanted, and we still called her Mom. She loved us."

"That was before she left us with Dad," Logan snapped. "What kind of mom leaves her kids with her abusive ex-husband?"

"She tried to stop him. He would hit her for things he was mad at us for. She tried to protect us."

"And in the end, she still left us."

"Because the court wouldn't let her take us!" Blake protested. "If she had legally adopted us while her and Dad were still together, maybe she would've had a chance but-"

"Blake. I don't want to think about maybes anymore. Are you done?"

Instead of answering, Blake looked back down at the headstone. "Mom, Elijah and Logan and Olivia all want to say they miss you. Olivia really, really misses you. And Logan didn't mean it-"

Logan had always believed it was useless going to a grave. If a person wasn't alive anymore, they weren't at a grave. They were either somewhere else that the living couldn't hope to reach, or they couldn't hear you at all. There was no point in visiting a rock and talking to said rock.

But standing there, listening to Blake's quiet words, something in his chest pulled at the thought that his mother was buried so close below them.

When Logan had almost died, he hadn't seen the light at the end of the darkness that people often described. There was only blackness and a violent panic that he had actually accomplished the job. He had always thought there had been no end to the pain, no comfort in his almost dying because heaven hadn't wanted him, but he had hoped there was a better reason.

Mom, if you're there...I don't know. Did someone there wherever you are try to push me back when I tried to kill myself? Is that why I ended up in the hospital instead of down in the ground?

He waited for an answer, tried his best to open his mind to whatever people did at graves, but there was nothing. He sighed and turned to Blake to tell him they needed to go, only to find him holding his glasses by his side and wiping his eyes with his jacket sleeve.

Logan wordlessly took his glasses from his shaking hands and handed him a tissue instead. In a shaking, watery voice, Blake said, "I love you, Logan."

Logan could hardly think those three words on his good days. It was impossible to actually vocalize them, no matter how much his brothers made him want to say it. To hear them as he stood at his mother's grave was pure agony.

"I know," he managed. "It's okay."

"It's not okay," Blake said, his voice distorted with tears. "Please don't make me ever stand at your grave."

Logan got an uncomfortable burning in his throat. Memories of blackness overtaking his senses, the hospital, Elijah's unending tears threatened to overwhelm him. "Blake-"

Blake's voice dropped to a desperate whisper. "Please, Logan," he begged, his voice breaking.

Logan knew that if he stood there another minute longer, listening to his little brother sob, he was going to break down too. And he was terrified of crying because if he did, he didn't know what kind of monsters it would bring, and what kind of monsters he wouldn't be able to push away.

"Okay, okay, I won't," he said hoarsely. "Fuck, just don't - please don't cry anymore."

"I'm sorry," he said, wiping his tears.

"Blake, wait - no - that's not what I meant." Logan cringed at his awful stumbling. He awkwardly put an arm around Blake's shoulders and handed him another tissue. "It's - it's okay to cry, just don't...don't cry over my grave. I'm not going in any grave."

"You said you wouldn't."

"I know. I promise."

Logan's tongue suddenly felt heavy with a promise he didn't know how to keep, but he couldn't stand to see Blake cry anymore. The way Blake's tears gently slowed to a halt made him breathe a sigh of relief and he couldn't care less if he had in that moment signed away his soul.

"I want a hug."

Fuck signing away his soul.

"You better not just be taking advantage of the fact that you're crying your eyes out and I can't say no right now."

Blake gave him a half smile. "No, I really want one."

Logan heaved a sigh. "Fine. Come here."

Without missing a beat, Blake threw his arms around Logan's neck. Logan held him more hesitantly, but as Blake hugged his heart back into a place where it felt like maybe it really did belong in his chest and his being alive wasn't just a huge mistake, and as he felt his warmth seep into his limbs, he remembered why he never had the heart to push away his brothers' hugs.

He held Blake tighter, and as they stood there in the graveyard, Logan felt for one, clear second that this was his mom's way of telling him that someone had been waiting for him on the other side, and shoved him back into this world so he could live for moments like these.

Eventually, Blake sniffled and pulled away. He wiped a stray tear and asked, "Do you feel better now?"

Logan scowled. "You're the one that wanted a hug."

"You're the one that needed it."

And as he took in his little brother, who failed math and English but loved to draw and hug people's pieces together again, Logan felt a small smile not on his face, but on his tired, weary heart.

"Come on," Blake said, a smile splitting his face, like he knew exactly the kind of effect he had on people. "You know you love me. You know you want to say it."

I do love you, Blake.

Logan reached out and ruffled his curly hair. "Let's go back."

They turned to go as Blake persistently cajoled him to say he loved him, but Logan's protests faded before he could speak.

There was a black sedan with tinted windows parked at the edge of the graveyard. And there was someone leaning on the door. Watching them.

"Blake, look really, really slowly when I tell you to."

Blake's smile melted away. "What?"

Logan looked away from the man and busied himself with looking at his mother's headstone. "Just shut up and look to your right. Does it look like he's watching us?"

"Who's watching us?"

"Maybe if you put on your glasses, you'll be able to see!"

"Didn't you take my glasses?"

Logan patted his jacket pockets. "Shit."

"It was literally two minutes ago!"

As Logan went through his pockets, he noticed that the man wasn't near his car anymore. He was walking down the trail that wound through the middle of the graveyard, heading towards them. He was close enough that Logan could see a winding green tattoo at the base of his neck.

"Forget the glasses," he said. "We're going to calmly turn around and start walking back to the bike."

"Calmly? What the hell are you saying? Elijah's going to kill me if I lose my glasses again!"

"God, why are you so blind?" Logan muttered as he turned all his pockets inside out. He finally found them, thrust them into Blake's hand, and said, "Okay, if you don't start walking right now, I will kill you. And if you look back, I'm going to revive you, and murder you again."

To his relief, Blake obeyed. "Who was watching us?"

"I don't know. I think someone's been watching us all day."

"Is this the part where you tell me why you think Mom was murdered?"

"Jordan was freaked out. She couldn't have said it any clearer that if we asked more questions we would end up dead. What does that mean to you? And come on, can you walk any slower?"

"I don't know, there could be a lot of explanations."

"Like what?"

"Like...maybe we would find out she overdosed and be led to drugs and start using ourselves and end up like her?"

"Blake, where do you even come up with these things?" They reached the bike, and Logan threw him his helmet. "Don't answer that. Just get on."

"Maybe that guy's just someone who's also looking for Mom."

"Stop looking back there."

"He's talking to someone on the phone. And he's getting back in his car."

"What did I just say?"

"I can't not look at him! You tell me we're going to be murdered and you expect me to just be chill?"

Logan glanced in his rearview as they rode down Main Street. "Blake, what the hell are you saying? We're not getting murdered. We're just going to leave this place. Now stop acting suspicious."

"Stop looking in the rear view, I think they're in front of us."

Logan looked up from the mirror to the road to see that the black car was, indeed, in front of them and driving towards them now.

"They must've taken a back road or something," Blake said, leaning to the left. "I don't see anyone in there."

"Blake, stay still! You're going to turn us over!"

"Sorry, sorry, it's just - hey, they're rolling down the window."

Logan squinted and tried to see. "He's holding something. It looks like -"

The words died on his lips.

His heart almost failed him as the first boom came from the gun the man was holding and he heard something whiz past his arm.

"Fuck," he yelped and jerked the bike hard to the right into an alley. He winced as Blake clutched at his sides, pinching him so hard it was going to bruise.

"Logan, they're shooting at us, they're shooting, why would they be shooting at us?" Blake cried.

Logan tried to see the alley clearly as he drove, panic nearly blinding him. "Fuck, could you please stop talking and stop moving," he breathed heavily.

He heard another crack behind them and Blake jerked, almost tipping the bike over as another bullet flew past.

"Fucking hell, Blake, you have to stay still!" Logan growled at him. He reached forward with shaking fingers and adjusted the rear view so he could see the car at the mouth of the alley. Someone was getting out of the car.

Holding something at chest height.

And as he took aim, his jacket shifted and Logan saw the sunlight flash off something metallic at the waist.

"Fuck, fuck. Shit."

Logan spun the bike into an alley to their left just as another round of cracks sounded from behind them. He could hardly breathe the way Blake's fingers were digging into his ribs, but he couldn't care less because that meant his brother was still alive.

At the end of the second alley, they burst out onto the open street, where there were more cars and people, and Logan let out a little sigh of relief. If those people weren't hesitant about shooting at them in broad daylight, they still had to have some qualms about hurting them in a crowd.

He could hardly keep the bike steady in his trembling arms but he turned the rear view to the side to try to see his brother. "Blake?"

He didn't reply. For once, he was silent, and that terrified Logan.

"Blake, are you okay? Did they hit you?" His voice rose with every question, terror pounding through his veins. "Are you bleeding? Are you hurt?"

Logan swerved to avoid hitting a car, and that sudden jolt to his heart pushed his nerves over the edge, and he yelled, "Fucking answer me, idiot!"

The heavy weight of Blake's helmet pressed into his back. In a barely audible voice Blake whispered, "I'm fine."

Logan almost sobbed in relief at the sound of his voice, and as he pulled into a side alley that looked deserted and killed the engine, the reality hit him.

He had almost killed his little brother.

Blake wrenched himself from the bike as soon as it slowed to a stop and stumbled to the side of the building the alley was in between. He bent over double, dry heaving until he retched all over the ground.

Logan sat dizzily on the bike, his heartbeat unwilling to calm down. He clutched a hand over his heart, willing the insane throbbing to relax before he burst a vessel somewhere from all the pressure, but his body refused to cooperate.

"Wish I hadn't joked about being murdered," Blake muttered.

Logan rested his head against the handlebars and tried to breathe in slow, deep breaths. Maybe his oxygen wasn't enough and that was why his heart was thudding so hard. Maybe it was just too much carbon dioxide.

He barely heard Blake whisper, "I wonder if Mom was killed like that."

Logan could feel his pulse in his fingertips, in his toes, in his neck, in his ears. It felt like it was trying to push his eyeballs from their sockets. It was like something was about to burst in his brain and send blood rushing down his nose.

He felt hands grip his hair. "Logan, are you having a panic attack?"

"Fuck, no," he wheezed, trying to shove Blake's hands away and lift his head from the handlbars, but his skull suddenly felt too heavy, like it was about to snap off his spine and go skittering across the street.

"Oh my god, I think you are."

"Don't touch me," Logan said, or at least, he tried to say. What he heard instead was a garbled slur that couldn't possibly be coming from him.

"Shit, shit." Blake's voice became high and breathless, his breathing no longer steady, and that forced Logan to focus. He clenched a hand against his head and tried to remember the exercises his therapist had drilled into him.

Breathe in through the mouth.

Breathe out.

Relax one muscle at a time from your fingers to your shoulders.

Now repeat after me: I am not afraid. This too will pass.

Fuck, he was afraid. He was terrified. Why would Dr. Chandler tell him to say stupid shit like that?

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He managed to get his breathing the slightest bit under control and raised his head up from the handlebars to see Blake's wide eyes and scared expression.

"I'm fine," he groaned, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Fine?" Blake asked incredulously. "We just - someone tried to - he had a gun and we're fine?"

I am not afraid. This too will pass.

Shit, shit, shit.

Who the fuck am I kidding?

Logan ran his shaking fingers through his hair and breathed in through the mouth. Out through the mouth.

"I won't let them hurt you," he said. "No one's going to shoot at us. We're going to be okay. We're just going to wait until it's clear."

"Wait until it's clear? We have to call the police!"

His words made pain shoot up his arms. "We're not going to call the police."

"Someone just shot at us and you're telling me not to call the police?"

"You don't think it's a weird coincidence that Olivia has a panic attack when she sees a police officer and rule number six is to never call the police if she goes missing?"

"She's just traumatized by what happened to Mom!"

"Police. Cocaine. Men with guns. Any of this ring a bell?"

"Um, yes? A horribly done action movie? You are making this into some huge conspiracy when it's not!" Blake turned and pulled out his phone. "I'm calling 911."

Logan tried to grab his phone from him and crashed dizzily into Blake's shoulder instead. Blake was forced to put his phone in his pocket to prop Logan back up against the bike.

Breathe. Breathe. Relax your fingers. Relax your wrists. Elbows. Shoulders.

Blake held Logan in place with one hand and pulled his phone out with the other. As he made the dial, Logan realized what he was doing and grabbed his wrist. "I saw his badge."

"What?"

"When he was shooting at us. It was on his belt." Logan pressed his fingers to his eyes. "That wasn't any ordinary street criminal."

"Logan, how on earth did you see that? You were driving so badly I literally couldn't see the handlebars."

"I was the one looking in the rear view, not you."

Blake shoved his hands in his pockets, looking unsure. "I don't know, Logan. It could've been anything. It could've just been another gun that you saw."

"Look, we'll go home, and we'll tell Elijah, and then we'll decide if we want to call the police or not."

"No! They'll get away by then!"

"They've already gotten away," Logan said dryly. "They didn't exactly stick around."

"I'm not waiting until we get home."

"Then call Elijah now. We can ask him right now."

"What's calling Elijah going to do?" Blake demanded. "He's not going to make it go away!"

"But he can stop us from making a huge mistake!"

Blake's expression turned sour and he shouted, "The hell, Logan, why are you so calm and telling me it's fine!"

"Because I don't have the choice to be panicking!" Logan yelled back at him.

They stood there, angry breaths filling the silent alley.