So no, I'm not dead. But I'm sure some of you want to kill me - especially after you read this. Consider this my practice in angst for the future.

Yes, a future. I have so many stories in my head, and I will not stop until I've shared them all. I just have a life (hard to believe, right?).

I dedicate this to LaurenBlack13. She'll thank me later for the emotional trauma. I also want to thank gleechild. We were talking on Twitter the other day. She inspired me to get back on this gay horse.

So, I've been on FF for about a year now. Thank you so much for all the love and support!


"Dr. Knight, isn't your shift over?" Eric, an intern, asked as he walked into the break room.

Logan Knight sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah, but Kendall has a game tonight. I'm stalling."

Eric nodded, knowing all about Logan's private life. Logan helped him through this tough job, and in return he was the ear to Logan's stories. "So you'd rather stay here than be alone?"

Logan nodded. "Crazy, right?" He looked at the clock on the wall, debating with himself on whether or not he should go home now. He wanted to beat Kendall home; he didn't want him to know that he stayed at work to not be home alone. But, there was still some time before the bus got to the rink, and then Kendall had to drive home.

Well, by the time he went to the locker room and changed… and drove home… he would still beat Kendall home. Sighing, Logan shut his book and stood up. After waving goodbye to Eric, he exited the break room and headed down the hall.

As strange as it sounded, Logan found comfort at the hospital. Not in the people, but in the building itself. The designer tried their best to not make it feel like a bleached dungeon of death. The walls were a mint green, the flooring the color of sand. All around were paintings, made by local artists. The plants in the corners were real, a subliminal message of life and hope.

Logan rounded another corner, nearing the ER station. He missed working in the ER, even though he loved being a surgeon. But, he still had long hours and interesting surgeries. Plus, his own long hours kept him busy when Kendall had his long practices and away games.

"Paging all ER staff: bus accident with multiple injuries. Estimate arrival is two minutes."

Without hesitating, he ran the rest of the distance to the ER. Even though he was off duty and he wasn't ER, this was important. He was about to save lives.

"Oh thank God you're still here," one of the nurses exclaimed when she saw Logan. "It's really bad. Most injuries are stable, but we have one trauma to the brain."

Nodding, Logan started preparing for what was about to come through those doors, mentally and physically. He honestly didn't know what to expect.

What seemed like seconds later, the doors opened and everything started moving at top speed. Gurneys went rushing by, doctors following them.

"Trauma patient!" a paramedic yelled, Logan rushing towards that one.

"Status?" the brunet asked, following it swiftly down the hallway.

"The bus hit directly where he was seated. Glass everywhere."

"Name, age?"

"Kendall Knight, 29."

No.

Logan looked down at the gurney, looked at the person. There lied his husband, blood covering his face, cuts from the glass scattered.

No.

"Dr. Knight, we need to hurry!" Dr. White called out, wondering why Logan had suddenly stopped. Then he looked at the patient. That was Logan's husband. His eyed widened then snapped back up. "Logan, step away."

"No, I can save him!" the brunet yelled, trying to go forward.

"Logan, the code. You can't operate on family," Dr. White stated. "Step away."

Without another word, he turned around and pulled the gurney with him.

Logan stopped his pacing to look at the clock on the wall again. The hands seemed to be mocking him, burying him further into despair. Sighing, he gripped the white coat around him, trying to provide himself comfort. Why couldn't he just have been allowed in the room? He could have held it together. He was holding himself together now.

As he continued his pacing, he fiddled with the gold band around his fourth finger on his left hand. He tried to push the thoughts away, but with every twist of the metal came a memory – memories that could stop being made.

Logan sighed in annoyance as he looked around their room – one that had been clean about ten minutes ago. He knew Kendall had a game tonight, but this was ridiculous.

Speak of the devil, the blond walked into the bedroom, a duffle bag slung on his shoulder. "Hey, Logie."

"Hello, Kendall," he replied, trying to make it obvious that he was not happy about the state of the room.

Kendall, though amazing as he was, didn't do subtle well. Moving over to the bed, he stated, "So I should be home by 10, maybe even 9:30."

"Cool." Deciding that he wasn't doing enough, he picked up the first item on the floor – bright red boxer briefs – and made a show about putting it in the hamper.

"Logan, are you all right?" Kendall looked up from his bag. Green eyes shone confusion and innocence.

Sighing, the brunet moved over to the bed and sat down. "Why do you make a mess when you get ready for a game? And don't you dare say 'life's too short to be organized'."

Kendall shrugged. "I don't know. Does it bother you?" he asked as he looked around. Wow, it really did look like a clothes bomb went off.

"Kinda?" Logan answered, but it sounded like a question.

"Well, I can try harder to be cleaner," Kendall said, putting the last item in. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," Logan said, leaning in. "It's kinda stupid, really. I just really like our bedroom."

"Nothing you want is stupid." The blond closed the gap and joined their lips. It was short, but it said everything that words could never even try.

"Good luck tonight," the brunet murmured. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Feeling a pang in his stomach – caused from the last memory of them together – he practically threw himself onto one of the hard chairs in the hallway. He just wished he knew what was going on. Logan hated not knowing.

"Logan?" a voice called out, causing the brunet to look up. It was Jennifer and Katie, with Carlos and James right behind them.

"Logan, what happened?" Jennifer asked, sitting down next to her son-in-law. She had gotten a call to come right away, but Logan didn't want to explain the situation over the phone.

But now Logan had to explain everything out loud. He had to tell his mother-in-law that her son – his husband – might not live.

Taking a shaky breath, he started. "Ken-Kendall had a game tonight… and on the way home… a semi-truck hit the b-bus…"

"Oh my God," Jen exhaled, covering her mouth with her hands.

"The dead hit… was where h-he was sitting…" And that's when Logan broke down. "There was so much blood…" the brunet choked out, trails of tears running down his cheeks. "Blunt trauma to the brain… and glass… and the bus rolled…"

Mama Knight pulled Katie and Logan close, holding on to each other. James and Carlos sat across the hall, blank expressions painted across their faces. They all wanted – needed – to know if the person they loved was going to live.

Time seemed to pass faster with company, but the wait was excruciatingly painful. All Logan wanted was for someone to come and tell him Kendall was o-

"Dr. Knight?"

Logan looked up. Even with his blurry vision, he could tell it was Dr. White. "How is he, Daren?"

His smile was hopeful, but his eyes told a different story. "He's barely stable. I'm so sorry, Logan. We're doing everything we can."

The brunet nodded, standing up. "Can I go see him now?" His heart filled with hope, knowing that Kendall could pull through now. He was a Knight after all.

"Yes, but only you." Dr. White replied. "Room 111, ICU."

Logan practically ran to the stairwell, knowing all too well that the elevator took too long. After reaching the second floor, he burst open the door, knowing every hallway by heart. He rounded the last corner, slightly smiling when he saw the door that his husband was behind.

Beep. Beep. Beep. "Clear!"

"No!" Logan screamed out, racing towards the door. When he opened the door, he took the scene before him.

A couple of doctors were around the gurney, one administrating a defibrillator.

Beeeeeeeeep.

The brunet let out a sob, hearing the sound and seeing the monitor.

"Dr. Knight?" one of the other doctors asked frantically, looking up to see him in the doorway. "Oh shit."

Logan tried to run forward, but someone grabbed him and held him back. "Let me go! I can save him!"

"The code!" the one holding him back yelled.

"I don't give a fuck about the code," Logan shrieked back. "He's my husband!"

"He's gone," the one who had been holding the paddles – Dr. Kinney – whispered. "I'm so sorry, Logan."

"No!" the brunet yelled again. He refused to believe it. Kendall was strong; he was a Knight. The machine was lying.

The doctor stepped aside from the bed, letting the nurse come forward to start prepping the corpse.

That's when Logan saw the lifeless body of his husband.

"No…" he sobbed. This wasn't happening. This was a dream, a nightmare. It was simply impossible for Kendall to be gone.

"I'm so sorry, Logan," Dr. Kinney whispered again, stepping out of the room with the other doctor, leaving Logan alone with the nurse to say his goodbyes.

Logan tried to step closer to the bed, but he couldn't. He was frozen in his spot; his eyes couldn't look away from the body.

The tears came like flood waters. He was a Knight, technically. He was supposed to be strong now, too. But the moment Kendall passed, he took a piece of Logan with him.