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Metro Medical Center, Seattle, Washington

June 1, 2024

"So you ended up in neurosurgery because of a girl?" Logan asked incredulously.

"Not exactly," Sam answered.

The two friends, doctor and patient, were out on the hospital loading dock, their usual location for private conversations. Sam sat in a metal folding chair, his feet resting on the bottom rung of the railing. Logan sat with his elbows on his knees, warming his hands on a cup of coffee.

Sam snapped open a soda and took a long drink. "After that day, I just decided I didn't want to spend the rest of my career fixing people's noses and doing tummy tucks.

"You preferred patching up broken bits of bone? Gluing us back together and sending us back into the world?" Logan countered grimly.

"That's not how I see it," Sam replied.

"What about your dad and your brother?"

"Oh, they were pissed. But they eventually came around. Of course, they still don't understand why I would pick a job where I would get called in to come to the hospital in the middle of the night."

Logan took a sip from his coffee, "At least you got the girl."

Sam paused as to remember, "The Pulse was a crazy time. The residency program basically dissolved. I tried to help out wherever I could. I left the hospital to help out in Portland for a few days. When I came back, I found out Cecilia had died of an infection when they couldn't find the right IV antibiotics.

"At the time, everybody told me I was still young and I would get over her and find someone new."

Still waiting on that one, I guess." Sam absently swirled his soda can.

"Sorry, Sam."

A silence settled over the two men, both lost in thought.

Logan stirred first. "Sam, I came to talk to you about last week. You covered for Max and for me… when you got Max's files transferred out of that government lock-down from Seattle General. There might be some people coming around asking questions about that."

Logan stared out over the hospital campus. Sam glanced over at him, remembering the past.

Sam remembered standing over Logan's still form, after his last surgery.

A crash and a fire had almost consumed the Aztek. Somehow, Logan's friend Alec had dragged him out of the wreckage. He had been brought to Metro Medical and the trauma surgeon had called Sam.

Before the surgery, the trauma surgeon had apologized for calling him in. "I know it's not your night to be on call, but the kid that came in here with him, insisting that it had to be you." The surgeon gestured toward Alec who sat in the hall. "It's the weirdest thing, the guy has no I.D., no wallet. The kid wouldn't answer any questions. Figured he might be your patient. He looks like he's been a paraplegic for at least a few years. His bag just had a bunch of papers and photos. Here, you take it. I haven't even had a chance to open it. Maybe you can figure out who the guy is."

Sam flipped quickly through the photos, mostly exterior shots of abandoned buildings. "All I know is that he's Logan Cale," Sam thought to himself, " a guy who manages to get into a heap of trouble an awful lot."

It had been a shame to cut the metal exoskeleton off Logan, since it had looked like a piece of equipment that might have really done something, but, in truth, the metal had been so twisted and broken that it was hard to recognize.

The trauma surgeon had spent almost four hours stemming the bleeding and pinning together the bones. Then Sam had stepped in to help with the nerve reconstruction, but he knew that it was unlikely that the nerves would ever be called into service.

"Looks like he's going to make it," the trauma surgeon passed Sam in the hallway, "at least we patched him up a bit." After the surgery, Sam went back to his desk to grab his things. The papers and photos were gone. He glanced out in the hall. Alec was gone too.

The next morning, he switched on his T.V. He had just settled down to watch the morning news when the broadcast was interrupted by the familiar red, white and blue of the Eyes Only Streaming Video. Sam stared at the screen, nearly dropping his coffee. The story was an expose about chemical dumping in abandoned building sites. The photos were the same ones Sam had held in his hands the night before.

"So, it seems there's a really good reason that Logan manages to get into a heap of trouble all the time. He's Eyes Only."

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"Hey, Sam, are you listening to me?" Logan broke through Sam's reverie. "Like I said, there might be a lot of people asking questions about Max and me. You know, I used to work at the Free Press and everything."

"What kind of people? Sam raised an eyebrow.

Logan hesitated, "I'm not sure yet."

"Oh, don't worry about me, Logan." Sam swallowed the last of his soda and leaned back in his chair again.

"Logan, when I switched to neurosurgery, I did it because I wanted to really make a difference. I wanted to help someone have a better life. Maybe that someone would become a teacher or a father or a mother someday."

"Of course, at the time, I didn't realize I'd be helping the only Free Voice left in this city."

Logan looked up in shocked silence. Sam tossed his soda can into the trash and turned to go back inside.