Chapter Text
Logan is triaged in the back of the ER just inside the ambulance doors. It’s a part of the hospital Garrett has never seen before - he’d been too young to accompany his mom the few times they’d had to call 911 when she got sick - and it’s not somewhere he’s eager to see again.
The nurse is a young woman with braids that pass her shoulder blades and warm dark eyes that immediately put Garrett at ease. She asks Logan what happened, and it takes him far too long to finally come up with, “I uh, took a hit during a game. Hockey.”
“He hit his head.” Garrett is quick to add, and the nurse nods.
“Any lack of consciousness?”
The image of Logan laying unmoving on the ice surges to the forefront of Garrett’s mind again, causing him to swallow hard. “I think maybe.”
“I hurt my knee,” Logan chimes in, and the nurse bites back a smile as her eyes dart to the ice pack and temporary splint the paramedics used to immobilize his leg.
“I can see that. What’s your level of pain, John?”
“Maybe a six?”
Raising an eyebrow, Garrett scoffs. “That’s underselling it.”
The nurse seems to agree, wincing slightly on Logan’s behalf as she takes in the swelling and bruising that have materialized. “Alright, we’re going to get you set up in a room. The doctor-“
She’s cut off as Logan reaches out to grip her arm, panicked expression on his face. “I’m gonna be-“ he gags, and just in time a basin materializes in his lap.
Garrett grimaces as he rubs Logan’s back, “that’s the second time he’s been sick.”
Frowning, their nurse adds to her notes. “Alright. I think we’ll add a head CT to the list of tests, just to rule out anything more than a concussion. We’ll do some bloodwork, and both an xray and MRI of that knee. Hopefully that’ll give us some answers. In the meantime we’ll start an IV of fluids and painkillers to give him some relief.”
Logan’s head jerks up, voice raspy and weak from vomiting. “I don’t need pain meds.”
“Agree to disagree,” Garrett informs him.
Their nurse on the other hand narrows her eyes ever so slightly. “Is there a reason? If you’re in recovery I can assure you-“
“No. No it’s uh, nothing like that.”
“I strongly suggest you take the meds, John. They’ll help get this under control. I can add something for the nausea too.”
Garrett wishes he could read minds. He’s got no clue what’s going on with Logan, but he can see him internally weighing the decision, going through a list of pros and cons only he’s aware of. After far too long he nods. “Alright, fine.”
Releasing a breath of air he was barely aware he was holding, Garrett is filled with a sense of relief. Their nurse seems similarly pleased with the agreement, typing additional information into his chart before pointing down the hall. “Our porter is going to bring you to your room. Your nurse will be Lydia, she’ll be in shortly to start an IV. Shouldn’t be too long until your scans, then hopefully we can get you out of here.”
Logan’s only acknowledgment is to rest his head against the back of the stretcher, eyes closed, but Garrett reaches out and offers her a handshake. “Thank you for the help, truly.”
—
The porter, an older woman who introduces herself as Maryanne, gets them settled in their room with instructions on how to use the call bell if they need anything, and promises of warm blankets in their future.
She’s barely slid the door shut when Logan moans, covering his face with his arm. “Can you kill the lights, G? My head is killing me.”
Slightly ashamed he didn’t think of that sooner, Garrett flicks the switch. “I’ve got you.”
They sit silently for a moment, Logan on the gurney, Garrett on a horribly uncomfortable plastic chair in the corner, and he fiddles with his hands trying to work up the courage to ask the question that’s been on his mind since the ambulance. “Not that it’s really any of my business, but uh-“
The door of the room slides open, welcoming a young nurse with fiery red hair, a round face, and freckles across the bridge of her nose. “Hi! I’m Lydia, I’ll be taking care of you this afternoon. How are you doing, John?”
“Not great.”
The admission isn’t easy for Logan to make, Garrett can tell, but the honesty is welcome. Lydia tuts sympathetically, pulling her cart of supplies over to the bed. “I bet. I’m going to start that IV for you, then Maryanne is going to run you down for your scans. We’ll do them all in one go so once you’re done you can come back and rest. Sound good?”
“Sounds like it’ll get me out of here.”
Lydia laughs, and Garrett watches her find a vein with expert precision. “This should kick in pretty fast. It might make you sleepy, but that’s normal. Try to get some rest.”
Logan nods, seemingly taking that as permission to close his eyes again, and Garrett lets him. Whatever’s going on, there’s time to have that conversation later. For now, they just need to get him fixed up.
—
Garrett takes advantage of Logan being gone for his tests to step into the hallway and give Coach Jensen a call. There’s not much to update, but relaying the information he does have to a trusted adult makes him feel just a little bit better about the whole thing.
Coach reassures him he’s doing well, asks Garrett to call with an update after the scan results are back, and reminds him to take care of himself too.
The advice leads Garrett to a vending machine where he finds a bag of chips and a bottle of Gatorade. It’s pretty far from a nutritious meal, but it’s something, and at this point that’s all he can ask for. He shoots a text to Dean, confirming he’s good to come pick them up when Logan is finally discharged, and receives an immediate affirmative, along with an offer to bring anything they need.
Dean moves through life with a perpetual grin and more laid back attitude than anyone Garrett has ever met, but he’s starting to realize that underneath it there’s a lot more depth than Dean cares to admit.
Logan is back in the room by the time he returns, and keeping his voice low Garrett asks, “how did it go?”
“Hmm?”
He’s clearly half asleep, the meds are doing their job, and Garrett can hear the tinge of amusement in his voice as he clarifies, “your tests, Logan. How’d they go?”
“Fine I guess.” Comes the sleepy murmur, and Garrett leaves it at that.
It’s another hour and a half before they see a doctor, and Logan spends it sleeping which Garrett is immensely grateful for. Eventually a soft rap on the door announces her presence, and Garrett shakes Logan awake. “Hey. Your doctor is here.”
Fortunately Logan comes to fairly quickly, blinking the sleep from his eyes and clearing his throat.
Shaking both their hands, she introduces herself. “I’m Doctor Choi, I took a look at your test results Mr. Logan.”
“And?”
It’s unusually short for Logan, but he’s exhausted and in pain, so Garrett isn’t overly surprised, and the doctor doesn’t seem to hold it against him.
“The good news is that your head CT came back clear. You have a moderate concussion, but with rest you’ll make a full recovery.”
Nodding, Logan takes that in before asking, “and my knee?”
Dr. Choi frowns, and Garrett feels his heart leap to his throat. “Fortunately both your ACL and meniscus are intact. You do however have a tear in your MCL - the ligament on the interior of your knee here.” She runs her finger along the inside of Logan’s leg, and he yelps at the soft touch.
“What does that mean, doc?” Garrett can’t help but ask. Smiling, Dr. Choi seems to understand the anxiety.
“There’s no need for surgery. With rest, elevation, physical therapy…you should be back on the ice in about four weeks John.”
Four weeks seems like forever, but visions of this being a career ending injury for Logan have been dancing through Garrett’s head all afternoon, so at this point the idea of only four weeks fills him with an overwhelming sense of relief. Based on Logan’s expression, he feels the same.
Tapping her notepad, Dr. Choi continues. “I’m going to write you a prescription for tramadol, just to help get you through the next few days while the pain is the worst. After that you should be able to manage with over the counter medications.”
Immediately, Logan shakes his head. “I’ll be alright. Thanks though.”
A crease develops between the doctor's eyes. “John, even with the IV you’re in considerable pain. If you want to recover well, you need these.”
Logan opens his mouth to protest, but Garrett gets there first, frustration surging through him. “Take the fucking pills, man.”
His friend stares back at him, and for the first time Garrett notices that his dark eyes are wide and slightly wild, filled with more panic than he’s ever seen from Logan. Shaking his head, his voice actually breaks. “I can’t.”
It’s Garrett’s turn to frown, and he turns to the doctor with a sigh. “Can you give us a minute please?”
She nods, sliding the door closed behind her, and Garrett looks back at Logan, throwing up his hands. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Seriously?”
Logan shrugs, struggling to sit up straight. “I’m tired. I’m sore. It’s been a long fucking day. I just want to go home, G.”
Running a hand over his face Garrett feels pretty damn close to exasperated. “You’d be less sore if you would take the drugs. What exactly is your problem here?”
“My mom’s an alcoholic!”
The words burst forth without warning, and for once in his life Garrett is speechless. Logan on the other hand is on a roll.
“She’s a fucking addict, G. She’s spent most of my life either in rehab, or too drunk to see straight. Why do you think I made you my emergency contact, huh? My brother is already dealing with her, plus he has a girlfriend, and I’m not putting that on my little sibling. I can’t put it on my mom, because half the time she doesn’t even know what way is up.” He pauses for a moment to catch his breath, chest heaving with emotion.
“I’ve spent my whole life watching her drink herself to death, Garrett. Forgive me if I don’t want to risk the same thing happening to me.”
An icy fist clenches around Garrett’s heart. Whatever he’d thought was going on here, this wasn’t it. It makes sense though, and despite the fact that Logan clearly hadn’t wanted anyone to know, he’s filled with a rush of guilt that he hadn’t put the pieces together himself. That Logan had been forced to reveal it like this.
God knows Garrett has his own shit he’s keeping buried.
Still, to Garrett, the solution to this feels like the most obvious thing in the world. Looking Logan dead in the eye he says, “I’ll hold onto them.”
He’s met with a blank stare and Logan shakes his head slightly as if trying to take in what Garrett just offered. “What?”
“You’re scared, right?” Associating the word scared with Logan in any capacity feels all kinds of wrong, but Garrett pushes forward. “Your mom’s an addict. There’s a genetic component to addiction. You don’t want to end up like her, and you’re being offered really fucking strong painkillers. I get it. But you need them, man. So…take the meds. I’ll hold onto them. I’ll make sure you have what you need when you need it, and nothing else.”
“Why would you do that?”
Logan sounds genuinely confused, and Garrett’s heart breaks ever so slightly as it dawns on him that this may be the first time Logan has had someone offer to look out for him like this. If he points that out though he gets the feeling Logan will shut down completely, so instead Garrett snorts. “You’re my best friend. Why wouldn’t I?”
Logan’s eyes are suspiciously glossy, and Garrett suspects it has nothing to do with the concussion. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally managing to ask, “you’re serious?”
Garrett nods. “Yeah, man. For what it’s worth, you’re not your mom. I think you could take them and be fine. But if it’ll help you feel better, I’ll keep them. Whatever you need, I’m here.”
There’s a brief flicker of hesitation in Logan’s expression, but Garrett maintains eye contact, hoping the sincerity of his offer shines through. Finally, Logan nods. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Garrett’s voice is full of hope, and Logan picks up on that with the faintest ghost of a smile.
“Okay.”
“So I can call Dr. Choi back in, she can write you the prescription, and we can get the hell out of here?”
Nodding, Logan closes his eyes. “Please. All I want is our couch. Seriously though G…I appreciate it.”
Garrett turns from his place by the door, offering Logan a soft nod. “Of course. You’re my friend, and you need me.”
He says it plainly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and it occurs to him in that moment that it really is. Whatever Logan needs, Garrett’s got him.
Now and forever.