Logan's P.O.V.

I was sitting at my desk, eating a little snack I had made for myself this morning, staring blankly at the computer screen. With each grape I threw in my mouth, the more I felt the need to do something productive. I mean…I had a whole hospital floor of sick, hurt patients. I could be checking up on them and helping them heal faster, so they could go home to their families. That's what I wanted to do. Since seeing my dad, letting James take him to his office to help him and having my first fight with Kendall, all I have had the urge to do, is snuggle with my little boy with Kendall. But I couldn't because it was only 1. Which meant I had at least 4 hours left of work. Work which would consist of running from room to room and helping people, I honestly didn't care about. Okay…that was a lie. Of course, I cared about my patients. One in particular. The 16-year-old broken teenage boy in room 6.

When my dad and James left, Robbie Brown the 16-year-old, woke up. He was pretty groggy and continued to tell us, he couldn't be here, but faded back into sleep fast. He then woke up again about an hour later, more alert, and continued to reiterate his need to leave. Amber and I constantly told him he was safe, and to not worry, but he was persistent. However, we shut him up fast with two huge helpings of food, because he said he was starving, and his very own TV hanging above his bed. He got more pain medicine pumped into him and was out like a light. Every time I saw him, asleep or awake, my heart broke. But Kendall's voice continued to run through my head. Don't kill yourself over this kid. Meaning, don't put all his weight and worry on your own shoulders. I'm trying.

"Logan…erm…Doctor Mitchell?" I snapped to my door fast and smiled at Amber as she walked in, with two guys behind her, in suits. "You have some LAPD detectives here to talk to you." I shot up fast and eyed both as they smiled small at Amber, walking to the seats in front of my desk. "To talk about Robbie Brown." I let out a shaky breath and sat back down looking between the two cops, who had shinny badges on their hips. "I'll send in the social worker when she arrives." Amber spun fast, pulling a phone out of her scrub pocket closing my door behind her.

"Good afternoon Doctor." One of the men reached across my desk with his hand, and I took it. We shook hands hard and fast, as the other guy also extended his hand. I took it, again fast, before sitting back in my chair, grabbing the chart I had just printed out for Robbie. "We won't take up too much of your time. We just have some questions for you, about the health of Robbie."

"Of course. I just got his vitals…he is a healthy kid." I looked between the two cops and frowned, "Minus the broken collar bone, two broken ribs, and cuts and bumps all over his body." One of the cops quickly pulled out a little notepad and started to write fast.

"Was there a full body examination done? An examination with a rape kit?" I nodded clearing my throat and looked back down to my chart.

"Yes. He had no indications of any sexual trauma. When he woke up I asked him if he had any pains anywhere besides his collar bone and ribs and he said no. My nurse, Amber, doesn't beat around the bush and asked him if his dad touched him or do anything forceful. He said no." The cop nodded fast writing again and his partner sat up in his seat.

"Would you say that his injuries are from being thrown down stairs?" I nodded chuckled folded my hands over each other on my desk. "And would you say that a rather large man would have had to do this?"

"Absolutely. The kid is pretty skinny…I don't think he's as big as he should be for his age, but he's tall. It wouldn't have been a small person." The both nodded, and I tilted my head just a little. "Is his dad claiming he didn't do it?"

"Yup." I rolled my eyes looking down to my desk and the cop laughed. "We are going to have a talk with him, to verify it was his father who did this, and with his word, and your medical diagnosis we will keep him behind bars for a long time." I nodded turning back to the cops feeling helpless. "Would you mind coming in with us, as we talk to him? Help answer some medical questions that might come up?" I watched them both stand and followed fast. I slipped my cell pheon into my front pocket as they walked out of my office, and moved out of the way, motioning me to lead them. I nodded once and walked down the short distance of the hallway, turning left, to get to the Emergency room. I walked fast to room 6, and when I got to it, I squirted some hand sanitizer on my hands, before pulling the curtain back on his room. I smiled big walking in, hitting the light switch as I went by.

"How you feeling kid-o?" I walked to his bed seeing him sitting up, his gown down off his torso. I looked up at the monitor above his head and frowned. "Were you moving around a bit?"

"I'm too hot in this." I looked down to him, seeing him pulling on the gown he took off himself. He laid his head back and groaned rubbing his eyes slowly. "When can I leave?" I smirked turning to the two cops who were staring, sad down at the kid in front of them.

"When you are well enough to sit up in bed, and not be out of breath or make your heart rate spike." I turned back to him and turned a little motioning to the cops. "Robbie I would like you to meet…uhm…I didn't catch your names."

"Oh, uhm, I'm detective Henderson, and this is my partner Detective Gomez. We work for the LAPD, and we have a few questions for you Robbie." I looked down to Robbie fast and swallowed hard seeing his cheeks blush. You know…underneath the cuts. "First how are you feeling?"

"Not great. And I'd like to leave." I crossed my arms over my chest and watched Robbie shift his eyes to me.

"Well from what we understand son, you are not well enough for you to leave. And we'd like to know how you ended up in here?" I nodded once silently asking him to tell the cops the truth. He looked away and down fast, scratching his head. He had shaggy brown hair, that looked like it needed to be washed and combed. I said nothing though. "Your neighbor called us to your house early this morning because he heard someone crying and yelling. When the officers responded to your home, they found you lying at the bottom of your basement stairs, crying. Who did it to you?"

"Who do you think?" I turned to the cops and stood up straight hoping they didn't get mad at the kid giving them sass. "My dad is going to kill me anyway, so I might as well make it worthwhile. My dad found out I was out all night with my girlfriend and lost it. He started yelling at me and hit me in the face with his belt." My stomach turned, so I looked away to the small white board with my messy hand writing. "I ran up to my room and packed a bag. I wanted to leave. When he found out he threw me down the stairs and continued to hit me with the belt and hit me several times with his fists." I closed my eyes raising a hand to my mouth and bit my thumb nail. "Is that enough, or should I tell you about all the other times he beat me?"

"No…no I think that's enough." I turned back to them fast and looked down at Robbie who was wiping at the corners of his eyes. "Doctor Mitchell…" I eyed the cop who closed his notepad again and cleared his throat. "His injuries…do you think they could have killed him?" My mouth parted open and he shook his head. "I know…it's not a fun question. But your answer could make sure that asshole stays behind bars."

"If no one had gotten to him…he could have bleed out." I saw Robbie shift next to me and raised a hand. "This conversation needs to be had in private."

"Why? I'm not a little kid. I know what my dad's intentions were. He wanted to kill me. He usually does when he' seen drinking." I turned to him completely and resisted my urge to pull him into me and hug me. "If my dad is in prison…where do I go?" I felt my throat swell up as my eyes started to get ready to leak out warm tears. But the sound of the curtain being touched made me turn to it fast and regain my composure.

"I can help with that." An older looking woman wearing a pant suit walked in a purse over one shoulder, a black leather large notebook in her arms. "My name is Diana Jones and I am Mr. Brown's social worker. I am here on a wellbeing check, and to inform you, as soon as you are well enough to leave the hospital, you will be placed in a foster home." I sighed out feeling a lot better about his situation as she got on the other side of the bed smiling down at Robbie. "The state has verified that your home is no longer safe and is going to place you in the custody of a very loving, supportive home."

"No." I turned to Robbie fast and slouched reaching out, putting a hand on his shoulder. "He looked back up at me and shook his head. "I'm not going to a foster home, with 20 other kids in the same house. I'd rather live out on the streets or with my dad again before I go to any foster home."

"Unfortunately, that's not something you get to decide. We will be checking in on your health periodically and once you are well enough, you will be taken to your new home. These papers are for you, young man." She opened her notebook quick and pulled out a stapled packet of paper, gently setting them on Robbie's legs. I looked up at her and saw, she didn't look all that nice, or happy. But she turned to me, and raised an eyebrow making me clench my jaw shut hard. "We will be calling everyday to check in on him and expect accurate, and good reports." I took my hand off his shoulder as she turned to him, smiling wide. "Feel better Mr. brown. I will be seeing you soon." I gasped quietly, as she turned on her heels and left loud and fast. I took off after her fast and walked beside her as she walked towards the exit doors.

"Mrs. Jones…he's a child." She looked at me as we continued to walk, and I grabbed a hold of my stethoscope on both sides. "Calling him Mr. Brown doesn't make this situation better. And forcing him into a home, he doesn't want to go to, wont help either." She stopped abruptly smiling big at me.

"Doctor I don't suppose you know this, because you probably don't have a child, but children will not learn if they do not have discipline."

"First of all, I do have a child. An 8-year-old boy. I know exactly what too much discipline does to a child. And how dare you think what has happened to that boy, is his fault." She laughed opening her notebook back up, and quickly thumbed through it before pulling out a yellow folder, putting it in front of me.

"He's a bad egg Doctor Mitchell. He has been in and out of juvenile hall since he was 13. He has switched schools several times because he is a bad student, who likes to fight. You tell me why he's lying in that hospital bed." I yanked the folder from her hand and shook my head.

"His father is an abusive drunk who can't afford food to feed him every day. If anything, he's acting out. But not in this case. The kid was thrown down a flight of stairs. He needs love and support. Not discipline. And he will need extensive care when he gets out of the hospital. Someone will need to be watching him, to make sure he doesn't hurt himself."

"And I suppose you have a miracle, or a better idea than him going to a foster home?" She popped out her lip and straightened her shoulders out, to show dominance over me. I lowered my hands down to my side, clutching onto the folder in my hands.

"Yes. I do." She smirked and crossed her arms over her chest nodding. "Me. I'll take him." She laughed out loud pissing me off even more. "I want to do something good for that child's life, unlike you." She stopped laughing and I stepped closer to her. "If you can prove to me, the home he is going to, doesn't have more than two other children in it, and has at least one adult in the home with him at all time, I won't try to adopt him. Otherwise I would like you to send me information on the adoption process and make it quick." I spun fast look-in down at the folder and opened it quick.

"Doctor." I stopped and looked back at her, over my shoulder, but didn't turn to face her completely. "Here." She walked to me and gently handed me over a thick stack of paperwork. "Adoption forms. I'll call your bluff. Because between this hoodlum's record, and the amount of paperwork you have to do to adopt a child, you'll back out. A 16-year-old boy who isn't even yours is going to be a lot more different than your 8-year-old. But by all means, be my guest." She gave that big fake, scary smile again and huffed out her chest. "Have a good rest of your day doctor." She pushed past me and rushed out of the ER, her heels smacking hard into the ground below her. I breathed out hard and looked at Robbie's file, and the adoption forms she just handed me. I slowly started to walk back to Robbie's room. It felt good to get in her face and stick up for this poor kid, but just looking at the first sheet in his file made my head hurt. He had been kicked out of his middle school, at 13, because he tried to start a fire to his desk. What did I just get myself into? And how the hell would I tell Kendall? Just as I thought of him, I felt my phone ring in my pocket and tucked both stacks of paper under my arm, as I pulled it out and gulped. It was Kendall. Because obviously.

"Hello?" I quickly walked past Robbie's room, seeing the two cops in it with him still and rushed to my room.

"Hey…are you busy right now?"

"Sort of…why?" I frowned getting behind my desk and sat down hard putting the paperwork on top of it.

"Because…I had to go into work. Fourteenthly Carlos is with me, so Gabe is preoccupied, but…"

"Wait." I stood up fast look-in straight ahead at my wall with my diploma from college on it. "You took my son to the C.I.A. office?"

"Yes, and I know you will freak out about it, but I just need to ask you to come here as soon as you get off work. Preferably before then, but I know your job is important and intense." I fell back in my seat and he sighed out, and a door shut softly in the distance. "I didn't think anything of it, when you said James took your dad in to help him out until I realized John is on top of our most wanted list. Because of the escaping jail and getting away with 3 million and all." I could feel the color drain from my face. "James put your dad in custody Logan. And we have reason to believe Carlos has been the one threatening him. Well…I know for sure he was because he told me." I let out a hard breath, but he continued. "Carlos has been getting threats of his own and panicked. I need you to get here as soon as you can to calm Carlos down, and maybe help us out."

"Kendall…"

"I know it sounds bad Logan, and I'm so sorry. From what Carlos told me, someone has been getting agent information from him, and made several threats on your life, as well as Gabe's and James's. Until we can pin this on someone and take care of it, I need you to be very understanding and helpful." I looked down slowly at the paperwork on my desk. "Logan…"

"Why did they want agent information?" I closed my eyes putting my head in my free hand and he sighed out.

"Not sure. Although I have a theory. I think whoever this is, has a few bones to pick with myself and James. Maybe an ex agent, or enemy of the state…not sure. Whoever it is though is…"

"Wait." I opened my eyes and shot up form my desk chair. "Did you say ex-agent?"

"Yes. Why?" I frowned, slouching and threw up my free hand.

"Does the name Steven ring a bell?" It went completely quiet on his end and I shook my head. "I don't think I can leave early, but I will be by as soon as I get off. You'll have to send me the address."

"Okay. Thank you for not loosing your shit on me about Gabe being here." I laughed hearing a loud screaming siren of an ambulance and walked around my desk.

"Just because I haven't yelled at you for that yet, doesn't mean I'm not going to." I heard him chuckle as I walked out of my office seeing two doctors and two nurses run out to the ambulance drop off. "I have to go. I'll call you later. Love you."

"Love you too." I hung up fast putting my phone in my pocket and walked out to the ambulance seeing a second one pulling up.

"We have two car crash victims. Severe injuries." I nodded watching the doctors and paramedics take in the first gurney. I sighed out rubbing my hands together watching the ambulance back up slowly.

Here I go again, throwing myself into my work, while I had a billion other things on my mind. Someone would probably tell me this wasn't healthy. That I ignored my life for these few hours I worked on a patient. But I just ignored that person too.