CW for Maddie's Post-traumatic Stress.


It wasn't until after dinner that Maddie remembered that morning's incident. She still wasn't sure how she had come to be sleeping outside of Logan's room. She'd never sleep-walked before in her entire life, at least not that she could remember. But Maddie didn't really know whether she could trust her memory or not anymore.

Maddie turned the corner and found herself at the end of the hallway where she lived. After the day she'd had, she should have been tired, or at least eager to get into bed. But as she reached for the doorknob, she was gripped with a powerful instinct to flee. Icy fingers of fear ran down Maddie's back, and she froze, only for a moment, before turning on her heel and speed-walking out of the mansion. When the fresh air of the outdoor world hit her face, Maddie broke into a run.

She didn't stop when she threw open the doors to the P&E barn, and her legs swiftly carried her across the massive barn to the indoor firing range on the far end. In one smooth motion, without breaking stride, Maddie slid her second favorite hatchet from her boot and hurled it across the range, the blade sinking deep into the center of the target. Only then did she allow her feet to slow, gradually pulling up to a halt. Only then did she collapse onto the floor, and allow the tears to fall from her eyes.

She only cried for a minute. Well, 93 seconds, if she was really counting. Maddie hadn't allowed herself to be weak in a long time. Alaska wasn't exactly the kind of place a girl could be weak. Not unless that girl subsequently wanted to be very, very dead.

Then Maddie pulled herself to her feet, climbed over the guardrail, and retrieved her hatchet. She drew a slow, wavering breath, and tried to calm herself, despite the adrenaline she could already feel coursing through her veins.

When she heard the footsteps, Maddie spun, and recoiled her hatchet arm as if to throw. Logan recognized the move and ducked, clearly waiting for Maddie's hatchet to narrowly slice past his ear. That was rather silly, Maddie thought, because if she'd actually thrown the hatchet at Logan, she still would have hit him. Logan's half-duck wouldn't exactly have impacted her aim.

When the swoosh didn't come, Logan slowly straightened, his eyes locked on Maddie's throwing arm. "Shit, Mad," he muttered quietly as he rose.

Maddie rolled her eyes, but allowed her throwing arm to fall to her side, her hatchet still resting lightly between her fingers. She cocked an eyebrow at Logan.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"Are you okay, Maddie?" Logan responded. Maddie rolled her eyes again, as if brushing him off. But Maddie knew the answer to that question, she just wasn't ready to admit it to herself.

"Tell me why you're here," she repeated, leveling her most intimidating glare at Logan.

"I was worried about you," Logan admitted. "I saw you rushing out of the mansion, and I was worried about you."

"I can take care of myself," Maddie responded, and she turned away, so Logan wouldn't see the uncertainty in her eyes.

"Oh, I know you can, Mad Dog" Logan said softly. "But you don't have to."

The tears threatened to seep out of Maddie's eyes again, but she refused to let them. The Gallagher Academy might have 100% more hot water and waffle bars than Maddie's cabin in Alaska, but she already knew that it was no place for weakness either.

Maddie gathered her composure, then turned to face Logan. She took a breath and crossed the distance between them, her free hand taking his.

"I'm fine," she said firmly, fixing Logan with a stare.

"Of course you are," Logan said, his tone clearly skeptical. Logan reached for her other hand, but noticed that Maddie was still holding her hatchet, and awkwardly dropped his arm to his side. "That's exactly why you're out here throwing hatchets instead of inside, asleep."

"I'm behind," Maddie started.

"At hatchet throwing?" Logan cut her off with a tone that left no room to argue, so Maddie didn't. Instead, she just let the silence hover between them.

Logan sighed heavily, and sank to the thick mat below them. Maddie followed him. She didn't really have a choice, seeing as he was still holding one of her hands, she told herself. And once she was sitting on the mat beside Logan, it was just natural to lean her tired body into his, to rest her head against his broad shoulder.

They sat in silence for a while, and Maddie could feel the tension coursing through Logan's body beside her, like he was trying very hard not to move. He stroked his thumb over her fingers, but was otherwise motionless. But he didn't move away from her either, and so Maddie stayed put.

"I've never sleepwalked before," Maddie whispered, but in the silence of the P&E barn, her words seemed to echo. There, it was out now, the fear that had been hovering in the back of Maddie's mind since she'd first woken up this morning. That what happened in Alaska had broken her in some horrible, undeniable permanent way that she was only just starting to realize.

"I have," Logan said softly. He hesitated a moment before he continued. "It's a sign of trauma, Mad."

Maddie felt his eyes on her, but she didn't meet his gaze.

"You've been really jumpy since we got here," he commented, and Maddie probably would have punched him in the face if she hadn't known it was true. "That's not like you."

Maddie started to argue. Logan hadn't seen her in six years, except for their near-death experience in Alaska. How dare he have opinions about what she was or wasn't like. Logan barely even knew her anymore.

Except that he did, no matter how much Maddie hated to admit it. Logan was the only friend she'd ever really had. Logan was the only person she'd written to from Alaska. Logan was the only person who'd also been kidnapped by a Russian psychopath in a snowstorm. And Maddie certainly wasn't feeling much like herself these days anyway.

"They were speaking Russian," Maddie admitted. "When I got back to my room, I could hear my roommates from the hallway, and they were speaking Russian."

Maddie felt Logan studying her, like he wasn't sure quite how to proceed next. Then he slowly slid one arm around Maddie's shoulder, his hand resting just over the scar from her bullet wound, and lightly leaned his head against hers. It could have been just a friendly gesture, an offer of comfort, except that Maddie felt a heat burn down her entire body from the place where his hand rested.

"We went through some pretty intense stuff in Alaska, Mad," Logan said, reassuringly. "It's going to take some time for your subconscious to heal."

"How long did it take you?" Maddie asked, and she tried not to focus on the way her skin tingled where Logan touched her. "The last time?"

Logan laughed, but the sound was hollow. "I'm a work in progress," he admitted. "I've spent most of the six years since my mother's kidnapping escaping from highly trained government operatives assigned to protect me, just to prove to myself that I could."

He laughed again, but it wasn't funny. No, Logan's voice was the temperature of ice as he said, "And then when it really mattered, I was helpless."

"That's not true," Maddie shook her head. "We got out of there together. We were a team."

"I put you in danger," Logan said firmly. "You almost died, Maddie. I. . . I thought you were dead. . ." Logan trailed off as his voice broke, and his fingers gripped Maddie's shoulder tightly. "And I'll never forgive myself for that."

"Well, I'm not," Maddie said pointedly, trying to ease the tension. "I lived in Alaska for six years, mostly alone. It would take a lot more than one Russian psychopath to do me in."

Logan smiled a little, mostly, Maddie thought, because he believed her. And if she tried hard enough, Maddie could almost believe herself.