Chapter 14 Rehabilitation #2
"Tell me about them." It wasn't a request.
Logan was quiet for a moment. He didn't want to talk about the dreams. Didn't want to examine them or analyze them or give them more power than they already had. But Dr. Chen just sat there waiting with the infinite patience of someone who'd done this a thousand times.
"I'm back in the cell," Logan said finally.
"Tied to the chair. Nazari's there. His men.
They're asking questions I won't answer.
Hurting me. The usual." He paused. "Except sometimes the dream changes.
Sometimes rescue comes. The door opens. And I think I'm saved.
But then whoever came for me just turns around and leaves. Like I'm not worth the effort."
"Who comes for you in these dreams?"
Logan didn't want to answer. But lying to Dr. Chen was pointless. She'd see through it immediately. "Mara. The woman who actually pulled me out. In the dreams, she comes through the door and then leaves without me."
"And how does that make you feel?"
"Terrified. Abandoned. Like I'm going to die in that cell and nobody cares." The words came out rougher than he intended.
Dr. Chen made another note. "These dreams where Mara leaves you behind. Do you think they reflect reality or fear?"
"Fear. Obviously. She came back. She got me out. I'm here because of her."
"So why does your subconscious keep showing you a version where she doesn't?"
Logan was quiet. The question settled heavy in his chest. "I don't know."
"I think you do." Dr. Chen's voice was gentle but firm. "I think you're afraid that what happened in Mosul was circumstantial. That she came back because it was the mission. Because she felt obligated. Not because you mattered to her personally."
The words hit harder than they should have. Logan looked away. "Maybe."
"And if that's true, if it was just obligation, then the connection you felt wasn't real. Which means reaching out to her now would be a mistake. Is that what you're afraid of?"
"I don't know. Maybe." Logan forced himself to meet her eyes. "What if I reach out and she doesn't respond? Or worse, what if she does respond and it's just to be polite? What if I built up this whole thing in my head and it meant nothing to her?"
"Those are valid fears. Rejection hurts. Especially when you've allowed yourself to be vulnerable." Dr. Chen set down her notepad. "But let me ask you this. If you don't reach out, if you let the fear stop you, will you regret it?"
Logan thought about that. About spending the next four months wondering. About never knowing if the connection had been real. About living with the what-if for the rest of his life. "Yeah. I'd regret it."
"Then you have your answer."
The session continued for another thirty minutes.
They talked about coping strategies for the nightmares.
About building healthy sleep patterns. About processing trauma in ways that didn't involve shoving it down and pretending it didn't exist. By the time Logan left, his head hurt and he felt wrung out.
But something had shifted. Something had clarified.
He found his team in the common area when he got back to the barracks. Hawk was reading a briefing. Risk was reorganizing his medical kit for the third time that week. Ghost had his tablet out running some kind of analysis. Joker was watching ESPN with the volume too loud.
They all looked up when Logan entered.
"How'd it go?" Hawk asked.
"Fine. Doc says I'm making progress. Both physically and mentally." Logan sat down on the couch. "She also said I need to stop making excuses and deal with my shit."
"Smart woman," Bulldog said from the doorway. He walked in carrying takeout bags. "Got Chinese. Figured you needed real food after PT and therapy."
The team descended on the food. For a few minutes, it was almost normal. Almost like they were back in the team room between deployments, just hanging out. Except Logan was in a cast and on medical leave and his career was on hold until his body decided to cooperate.
"You look like you're thinking too hard," Risk said, dropping into the chair next to him. "What's on your mind?"
"Mara."
"Still?" Joker asked. "Man, you've got it bad."
"Yeah. I do." Logan set down his food. "I need to send her a message. Need to reach out. I've been making excuses for three weeks and I'm done with it."
Ghost looked up from his tablet. "Want me to contact Beth?"
"Yeah. Tell her I need to get a message to Quinn.
To Mara." Logan took a breath. "Tell her that Logan Reed doesn't forget promises.
That I said I'd find her and I meant it.
That Louisiana's a big state but I've got four months to narrow it down.
And that I still owe her for coming back when nobody else would. "
Ghost typed out the message on his phone. "Sending it now through Beth's secure line. Should reach Quinn within the hour."
Logan felt his heart rate kick up. The message was out there now. No taking it back. No second-guessing. Either Mara would respond or she wouldn't. Either the connection was real or it wasn't. He'd know soon enough.
"What if she doesn't respond?" he asked.
Hawk looked up from his briefing. "Then you know. And you move on. But at least you tried. At least you didn't let fear stop you from finding out."
"And if she does respond?"
"Then you figure out what comes next. One step at a time." Hawk's voice carried the authority of someone who'd led men through impossible situations. "You can't control how she reacts. You can only control what you do. You kept your promise. You reached out. That's all you can do."
The team went back to their food and their activities but Logan couldn't settle. His mind was spinning. The message was out there. Mara would see it. Would know he'd followed through. Would have to decide if she wanted to respond. The ball was in her court now.
His phone buzzed an hour later. Text from Ghost. "Beth says message delivered to Quinn. Quinn says she'll pass it to Mara."
Logan's chest tightened. She'd get the message. Probably within the next few hours. And then he'd find out if the promise he'd made at that rally point had meant something to her or if it had just been words in the moment.
The next three days were torture. Logan threw himself into PT with an intensity that made Martinez threaten to dial back his sessions. He couldn't sleep. Couldn't focus. Every time his phone buzzed he grabbed for it hoping for a response that didn't come.
"She's probably just busy," Bulldog said on day two. "Running operations. Saving people. You know, the stuff she does."
"Or she's not interested and doesn't know how to say it."
"Or you're spiraling and need to give her time to process." Risk handed him a water bottle during PT. "You dropped a message on her out of nowhere. She's allowed to think about her response."
Logan knew they were right. Knew he was being irrational. But the waiting was killing him. The not knowing. The possibility that he'd put himself out there and she'd decided he wasn't worth the complication.
On day four, his phone buzzed during PT. Text from Ghost. "Message from Quinn. Forwarding now."
Logan's hands shook as he opened the forwarded message.
"Tell Logan that I remember the promise. That Louisiana's not that big if you know where to look. And that the beer's waiting whenever he's ready to collect."
Logan read it three times. Then a fourth. His chest tight. His pulse racing. She'd responded. Had actually responded. Had told him the beer was waiting. Had left the door open for him to follow through.
But there was a problem. A big one.
"You okay?" Martinez asked, noticing he'd stopped mid-exercise.
"Yeah." Logan looked up, but his mind was already spinning. "I'm better than okay."
He finished PT in record time. Bulldog was waiting in the lobby.
"You look different. What happened?"
"She responded." Logan showed him the message.
Bulldog grinned. "Told you. Now what?"
"Now I have a problem." Logan stared at his phone. "She says Louisiana's not that big if I know where to look. But I don't know where to look. I don't have her number. Don't know what city she's in. Don't even know her last name."
Bulldog's grin faded. "Shit. You're right."
"I can't just show up in Louisiana and wander around hoping to run into her. That's insane." Logan ran his good hand through his hair. "I need to send another message. Ask for a way to actually contact her."
"Through Ghost and Beth and Quinn again?"
"Unless you have a better idea."
Bulldog thought for a moment. "What if you ask for direct contact? A phone number. Something that doesn't require playing telephone through three intermediaries."
Logan nodded slowly. "Yeah. That could work.
" He pulled out his phone and texted Ghost. "Need you to send another message through Beth to Quinn.
Ask if Mara would be willing to give me a way to contact her directly.
Phone number. Email. Something. Tell her I want to collect on that beer but I need to know how to find her first."
Ghost's response came back immediately. "On it. Sending now."
Logan sat down in the lobby, suddenly nervous again. Asking for her contact information felt like a bigger step than the first message. Felt like crossing a line from theoretical interest to actual pursuit. What if she said no? What if she wanted to keep things at a distance?
"She'll say yes," Bulldog said, reading his expression. "She reached out to you. That means she wants this too."
"Or she was just being polite."
"Nobody's that polite. Stop overthinking it."
The response came two hours later. Logan was in his room trying to focus on anything besides his phone when it buzzed.
Text from Ghost. "Quinn says she'll set up a secure line. Give Mara your number and she'll reach out directly. Should happen within the next day or two."
Logan's heart rate kicked up. She'd said yes. Was willing to give him direct contact. Was willing to move this from messages passed through third parties to actual communication between just the two of them.
He sent his number to Ghost, who forwarded it through the chain. And then he waited.
By the end of the week, he had a plan. Four more weeks of intensive PT at Fort Liberty.
Once they had direct contact established, once he knew how to actually reach her, he'd figure out when and how to get to Louisiana.
Meeting Mara. Keeping his promise. Figuring out if the connection he'd felt in that cell was real or just trauma and gratitude.
"You nervous?" Risk asked.
"Terrified."
"Good. Means it matters."
Logan looked at his team. At the men who'd risked everything to coordinate his rescue. Who'd supported him through recovery. Who were now helping him chase after a woman he barely knew because they understood what it meant to feel something real. "Thanks. For everything."
"Don't thank us yet," Hawk said. "Thank us when you come back and tell us it worked out."
"And if it doesn't work out?"
"Then you tried. That's all any of us can do."
Logan went to bed that night and for the first time in weeks, the nightmares didn't come. He slept straight through until his alarm. Woke up feeling like something had shifted. Like the weight he'd been carrying had lightened just enough to breathe.
Any day now, his phone would ring. And Mara would be on the other end.
He could handle the wait.