So now that I'm on a computer, I'm actually able update, so I'm going to do that because you guys are nice and your reviews are awesome. I hope you like this chapter.
- Four -
Logan Mitchell had never been great about dressing himself. When he was in college, he was more likely to arrive to class in what he'd slept in than not. Besides, his social schedule left few occasions that would require him to dress formally. Sure there was a benefit for the hospital every year, where he was forced to mingle with possible donors, one of the youngest and most qualified doctors at the hospital, and sure he'd been to a wedding or two. After all, his bachelorhood was becoming more of a rarity with age, and he'd taken to sending a gift and an excuse for many of his acquaintances big affairs.
He owned one suit, a nice one that James had helped him pick out, which had cost him half a week's worth of salary. But James had been insistent, arguing that if he was only going to wear one suit, it had to be suitable for all occasions. The same suit he'd worn to the benefit a few months ago would look perfectly fine at the graveside memorial for Charlie's mom.
Opening a drawer, he found his small collection of ties, another suggestion from James, so the suit could be changed, if only a little. Today he chose a sobering steel, the same calming color that was on his walls, and fit it around his collar after three tries.
Logan had never been good at funerals. Though his career made death an ever-present occurrence, his intention was to save lives, and as such he tried his best to repress his feelings for the dead. It was easy enough at the hospital, where every person that was led to the morgue was matched with a child brought into the world only a few floors above, but cemeteries were another thing.
He remembered the holidays when his mother would drag him to the cemetery to visit his grandparents, people he'd never met and only knew as a cold slab of granite. Though he honored the tradition of placing flowers on their graves, he also wondered why it was necessary, when his beliefs proclaimed that his grandparents were no longer attached to their earthly bodies.
But it was still a tradition that needed to be honored, and he agreed with Kendall when it came to Marissa Evans. From everything he'd heard, she was alone in the world apart from Charlie. He'd heard of plenty of mothers that had sacrificed the well-being of their children for the father's love, or even a new boyfriend, but she'd fought for Charlie, secluding herself from her past in the process. She must have been strong. If only she'd been strong enough to survive the blaze. But if nothing else, she deserved a dignified burial.
Looking at the clock on the wall, he found that it was finally near the time Kendall had specified. Though he'd intended to sleep most of the morning, he was instead distracted by the thought of spending a day with Kendall. It wasn't exactly the itinerary he would have hoped for, but their schedules had kept them from spending time together.
He didn't want to think too far into what they had, but even James thought there was something there. Though he'd been known to embellish, he wouldn't be egging him on if he didn't have a decent chance. And Logan remembered the look in those green eyes, which calmed his doubts. Kendall definitely saw something in him, though what it was Logan hardly knew. Another thing he wasn't sure of was the status of this day together. By the checklist of dating etiquette, today's plans might be considered a date, but if it was, it was going to be one of the least memorable first dates of his life. But he also felt that Kendall was more honorable than that, and wouldn't want to distract from the true meaning of the day, which was meant to be a tribute to a young woman who had been taken too soon.
He made a note to observe the other man's behavior, which would signal exactly what he meant by his invitation, before straightening his jacket one last time. Collecting his wallet and keys off the counter, he went to the refrigerator to collect the flowers he'd bought on his way home the night before. He'd made sure that they weren't the cheapest available, but he also had a hard time rationalizing buying a dozen roses for a woman who would never see them. He wondered the last time Marissa Evans had been bought a dozen roses, and almost wanted to return his cheap bouquet of dyed carnations.
He almost jumped as he was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of the buzzer near the doorway, and he wondered quickly whether Kendall had the intention of coming up. To be safe, he buzzed him in, and within a few moments the blond was standing at his door. He was caught off guard by how well the suit fit his tall frame, and how even his demurred smirk lit up his whole face. He would never stop wondering how one person could be so attractive.
"For me?" he teased, glancing at the bouquet in Logan's hand, but his face showed that he was only joking. "We have a few minutes, so I thought I would come up. I left mine in the car."
Logan moved aside to let him in, immediately wondering why he hadn't thought to clean up better. His place wasn't messy per se, but there were books scattered across his end tables, and his dishes were clean but not put away. He'd gotten so comfortable with the fact nobody actually saw his apartment that it'd become more practical than aesthetically pleasing. Were Kendall to glance into his bedroom, he'd find the bed unmade, his scrubs from the night before on the floor.
"It's not much, but it's home," he announced as Kendall roamed the main room, which wasn't very large, taking in each personal touch Logan had allowed in the almost sterile design. With much of his time spent at the hospital, his décor was reminiscent of the white and gray halls he walked every evening. Still, he allowed himself some personal touches, including the pictures of his family back in Minnesota, who he hadn't visited in years. His diploma hung behind the TV, placing his proudest achievement in a place where he could see it nearly every day.
Kendall looked up from his bookcase after running his fingers along the spines, reading the titles in hopes of finding something familiar, and smiled warmly, "I hope it's not presumptuous for me to say that your apartment is very you."
"Boring and impersonal?" he tried, but Kendall shook his head as he turned again to face the shorter man.
He smiled, his dimples showing, as he answered, "Calming, safe. The place screams doctor committed to his purpose. I've never seen so many bookmarks in my life, but I'm sure that each one is a patient that deserved extra attention. Just like Charlie."
Logan glanced to the book on his end table just as Kendall saw it, noticing that it specified burn care and was full of post it notes and highlighter marks. This was the state of his free time, and it showcased his self-diagnosed work addiction. But the way Kendall spun it, he sounded dedicated rather than frazzled, and he was thankful.
"Speaking of Charlie, I don't want to be late for the ceremony. I'm afraid that if nobody shows up they'll bury her just to get it over with," Logan said, aware that this was more likely than not.
Kendall shook his head, "The social worker, Ellen if I remember correctly, said she'd be there, and I called in a favor from my chaplain. When I explained the circumstances, he agreed to come say a few words."
"You're a really great guy," Logan mused aloud, before he could think to stop himself. He didn't even realize he'd said it until Kendall began to smile again, breaking through the morose mask he'd taken up moments earlier.
"I try," he admitted, before taking one last look around the apartment. "But I guess you're right. If you're all set, we should probably get going."
Logan nodded, before leading them out, pausing at the step to his building as he realized that he didn't know what car Kendall drove. As he paused, Kendall chuckled, before stepping ahead of him and leading him to the passenger side of a black Mustang. As his eyes roamed the vehicle in approval, Kendall answered, "A birthday present to myself. I felt I earned it."
Opening the door, he found a bouquet of roses on the passenger seat, which Kendall quickly moved to make room for him. Thinking of his earlier guilt, Logan smiled, knowing that now Charlie's mom would get the flowers she deserved.
Arriving at the site, they each took their flowers before walking over to the grave. She was being buried in the part of the cemetery marked for those who couldn't afford a plot, buried in plain pine box. The services for this kind of burial were few, and the four people standing around the hole in the ground were greeted by the site of a bulldozer and a two man crew, who would have been obscured if she could have afforded her own plot. The marker would be a stone with a few numbers on it, not even a name to remember the woman that lay here.
Kendall greeted the social worker and chaplain warmly, and Logan could tell that he was one of those people that could make friends with anyone. It was just his nature. Standing back a little, Logan waited to be introduced, smiling as Ellen recognized him and reintroduced herself. She was a middle aged woman with warm brown eyes to match her dark skin, and Logan could easily see how she brought comfort to distraught children. Next he was introduced to the chaplain, Father Harry Reed, who looked vaguely like the priest from M*A*S*H, which he caught every so often in reruns. As the workers prompted them to start, the priest pulled out a sash, which he hung around his neck before starting.
It was a quick prayer, and since Logan wasn't Catholic, he found it hard to follow. But Kendall said the words under his breath, pulling a pendant out from under his shirt and holding it as he closed his eyes in prayer. As the service broke into what Logan recognized as a common graveside prayer, he closed his own eyes, mouthing along to the familiar passage, "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me."
He hoped that somewhere, Marissa Evans was looking down, protecting her son and seeing how he'd affected the two men at her graveside. He hoped that she was safe and happy once again, and he hoped that she had found her place in the afterlife. Releasing a single tear, Logan uttered an amen before the workers began dumping six feet of dirt over the simple casket. They all stood in silence until the grave was filled, the marker placed in the loose dirt that littered the ground. In turn, he and Kendall both placed their flowers on the dirt, and he observed Kendall as he crossed himself slowly, before pulling back.
He saw on the other man's face that as well as his face showed happiness, it showed sadness as well, and Kendall was truly distraught by the circumstances. As they left the graveside, Logan put a reassuring hand on the taller man's shoulder, green eyes seeing him for the first time in ages.
"Do you want to get a drink?" he asked, his voice quiet and unmistakably broken. Logan paused for a moment, remembering what time it was.
He hesitated to alert Kendall, "You do know it's not even two o'clock yet?"
"What are you, my doctor?" the taller man teased, one side of his mouth curling into a smile, before he pleaded. "Just one drink. I'm not good at funerals."
Logan didn't want to delve into the issue out in the open, especially when their setting was full of monuments to those who had long passed away; not exactly the premier venue to talk about why he was no good at funerals. Instead he nodded, and Kendall drove them to a nearby bar, which neither of them had been to. It was nearly empty due to the time of day, but the placards on the table advertised food, and Logan ordered food to counteract the alcohol.
It was unnecessary, because Kendall was a responsible driver, and ordered only one shot, chasing it with a glass of water. Logan ordered a gin and tonic and an order of fries to share. While they waited for the food to arrive, Kendall downed his shot as Logan sipped at his drink.
They sat in silence for a moment, before Kendall prompted, "I know you want to ask. I can see it in your eyes."
Logan wanted to argue, but instead started quietly, "Okay. Why do hate funerals? I mean, nobody likes them, but you look sick to the stomach."
"My father died last year," he answered, staring at the empty glass in his hands. When Logan tried to give his condolences, Kendall only raised a hand to stop him. "He wasn't present in my life. I hadn't seen him since I was a kid. But now that he's gone…I don't know, I guess I always thought that maybe one day I could have a relationship with him. Like, maybe he'd better be a better grandpa than he was a father. But now I'll never know."
"Now I can see why you don't like them," he said, before calmly changing the subject, noting that the conversation was doing nothing to improve Kendall's emotional balance. "Well what about the rest of your family? How about your mom?"
"She's great," he said, immediately perking up. Logan caught a trace of awareness and thanks in Kendall's expression, and knew that he was just as relieved to change the subject. "My sister Katie just got married last year. I thought she was a little young, but she and her husband are very happy. Anytime I'm expecting to add uncle to my resume."
"You love kids don't you?" Logan asked, having made the observation the moment he saw Kendall with Charlie. "I mean, it's not just Charlie. You have a soft spot for kids."
He nodded, unable to argue such an obvious point, "We have this day once a year where kids can come to the firehouse. We bring out the fire hoses and pull the trucks out into the driveway. A lot of the guys, they're not made for that kind of stuff. They'd rather wait around for some action. But that is the action for me. I look forward to that day every year."
"So you're not in it for the action?" Logan wondered aloud. It was slightly surprising to him that Kendall would choose the career he was in. He seemed intelligent enough to do just about anything, but instead he did a job that was considered community service in some major cities.
Kendall paused, a smirk crossing his face, as he reached for the glass of water that had gone untouched until now, "If you're waiting for me to say that I grew up dreaming I'd fight fires like one of the Rescue Heroes, you probably shouldn't hold your breath."
"So why did you become a firefighter?" Logan asked, more intrigued that he would have expected. After all, his path to medical school had been laid since birth, and he was no longer sure whether the choice had been his or his parents'.
"Well, see, my friend Carlos was one of those kids," he started nervously, not in practice sharing this kind of thing with others. "His dad was a cop, so he'd always wanted to go into public service, but he had so much energy that he thought his talent would be better put to use in the fire department. Anyway, I met Carlos in college where we were both playing hockey. That was my dream. I wanted to play professionally. But in my fourth year, I tore a ligament in my knee. It's not enough to hamper me, but it was enough to keep me from ever playing in the NHL."
"I'm sorry," he said, knowing many patients who had gone through the same heartbreak, but Kendall shrugged and continued.
"I left college with a bullshit major and a shattered dream, so when Carlos suggested I follow him into the big leagues, I jumped at the chance. It's probably the best decision I've ever made."
"Do you ever regret it?" he asked, and Kendall paused a moment to think.
"You know, around play-offs I get a little bitter, but I know what I'm doing is worthwhile. You don't exactly save lives by hitting goals."
Logan paused a moment, before rethinking his explanation and asking, "What was your major?"
"I told you, I was going to play hockey," he tried, groaning before admitting, "I graduated with a degree in English, okay?"
He smiled, trying to hide his amusement. After all, he'd spent four years as an undergrad mocking anyone in the liberal arts college, and here was Kendall in front of him, an English major.
"I could see you as an English teacher," he consoled. "Forcing teenagers to read The Scarlet Letter until their eyes bled. Beating them upside the head with The Crucible."
"You have a thing for Puritans," he commented, before adding. "I could never do that. Kids I love, teenagers are another story. And even I don't want to read about Hester Prynne and her scandals."
Logan chuckled, remembering his own experience with Nathaniel Hawthorne's most popular novel, and understanding why Kendall would have chosen another path. After seeing the way he'd comforted Charlie, Logan had no doubt that he'd picked the right field. Now that he'd thought about his bedridden patient, he couldn't stop thinking about him, and when Kendall noticed his distraction he guessed what it was.
"Do you think we could visit him before I take you home?" he asked, sounding just as needy as Logan felt. He smiled, affirming the suggestion, before they paid their separate tabs and left the bar.
On the way to the hospital, the mood was jovial. One of Kendall's favorite songs came on, and he made a show of singing along to the radio, which caused Logan to laugh before joining in. The mood sobered only slightly as they entered the hospital, where Logan reminded Kendall that he'd been there only hours before and he could assume that nothing had changed.
Walking up to the nurse's station, they found James, who nodded to Kendall before turning to Logan, "I was hoping you'd make your way here."
"I bet you were," he whispered, hoping Kendall couldn't hear, until he saw that James was serious, his face drawn into a mask of professionalism. "James, what's wrong?"
"Dr. Patel is with Charlie. He's taken a turn. His legs…" James started, and before he could finish Logan had turned toward the hallway that would take him to the ICU.
Quickly, he remembered that Kendall was behind him, and asked James to keep him company, before stopping only long enough to grab his spare lab coat from his locker. Entering the room as he'd done so many times before, he found Dr. Patel flanked by two nurses, and he noted the swollen purple flesh exposed below Charlie's knees.
The older doctor turned to debrief him, but what he had to say was plain to distinguish. Infection had set in, which turned Charlie's slow healing into a fight for his life, and they were nearly helpless to stop it. What they'd all dreaded had finally come true, and Logan prayed again that Marissa Evans was watching over her son.