Chapter Text
"In taking revenge, a man [gets] even with his enemy; but in [giving it up], he is superior."
Francis Bacon
The negative sensation of betrayal clawed through Keegan’s mental walls when he had been grounded for the final mission against Rorke and the Federation. A fight that had been built on for years, a fight that was more than just his own, the very fight that put lives dear to him on the line and it was when those same lives didn’t cross over to safety, did the pain leave to suffocate him in its following.
Revenge was a dangerous concept, a craving that was beaten out of him young. Revenge clouded the mind but Keegan had the clearest head one could attain. To give up on the fulfillment of revenge was to give up on a basic natural calling. Keegan understood that best out of all the Ghosts.
Hesh’s static distorted voice called over the radio, telling command he and Logan had an eye on Rorke and that they were going to engage, and when the anger that simmered in Keegan's veins, did he realize what he was yearning for. The old friend revenge came to call through his mind as if it was beckoning him to follow the dark path. Every lesson taught to him, every lesson he had to learn on his own, was forgotten as the yearning for revenge sparked in his amygdala to leave a small shake in his gloved hands.
His mind was a raging storm of want and bitterness having his soldiers carry out a task that should have been left for the superiors. The level-headedness that Keegan prided himself on was tilting towards the left of the small devil on his shoulder. It was a nasty taste, one he never thought he would taste again, especially not toward the Walker boys. But then the pair went dark, Hesh’s voice no longer filled the comms, and worry rose where the bitterness once lay. It happened as slow as a tortoise taking an afternoon stroll, but it felt like they had orbited the sun in just a second. For one moment the command room was waiting in silence, when in reality it was loud with communications between other channels. The ghosts were waiting for the voice of their own to filter through. For Keegan, it felt like ages of waiting, until Hesh's voice cackled through to all their ears. Just as the other emotions replaced one another, dread soon replaced the worry when Hesh called in the order to hit the train on his command. He understood that Merrick felt the same, he watched as the commanding officer's knuckles turned white against the radio he had in his hand, but he still gave Hesh the necessary clearance. When Merrick looked at him, his eyes were downturned, eyebrows scrunched together, his mind already playing the events that would soon come.
Elias had only been killed a week prior, and today his sons would soon join him, Leaving Merrick, Kick, and him to feel the grief of losing not one, but all of the Walkers.
So when Hesh’s voice rang in the silence of the control room, despite the bustling of the world around them, a crackled “checkmate” traveling through their ears and settling in their mouths with the taste of bile, Merrick gave the command to LOKI and the action was done. The missile was fired, the train hit, the boys met their fate, and Rorke was taken down with them.
Keegan couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand the silence that settled over the command room, with Merrick with his head down, fists balled, stance tight. He couldn't take it when Icarus rallied back “direct hit”. He couldn’t handle the way his heart clenched in pain at the permanence of the action, of the thought of never seeing the Walker boys grow into even better men than their father, to never sighing again in relief every time Logan gave him a thumbs up after conjuring the worst of injuries, and to never experience the security when on mission with the brothers, their blatant trust of each other transferring into the most difficult of missions.
So he did the only thing he could do, he went back to work. Keegan gathered men and set out to retrieve any survivors, Federation or US. A recon team, to shake the feeling of death that hugged his shoulders.
Out in the field, watching as craters filled the ground, missiles still raining down like some fucked up confetti, did he feel a sort of peace. To see not many casualties on their side, but many on the Feds. To pick up survivors and witness the blinding grins they had, all of them sharing some sentiment of “we got 'em sir” as their fellow soldiers held them up.
Keegan had stopped checking the time as he made his rounds, his focus reinstalled to the whole mission, rather than the loss of the Walkers. Despite the power of the Federation, and by an ungodly miracle, it started to feel like the war was over.
But maybe Keegan had resigned that ungodly miracle to the wrong specimen. Because it was truly by miracle when Hesh’s voice rang through once more on comms, “Actual. Logan and I are alive. Requesting medevac ASAP.”
Merrick beat Keegan to it, telling Hesh that a recon team was on their way, not caring to mask the relief lacing his tone. If Keegan dropped whatever he was doing to gather a small group of corpsmen to go with him, then so be it. The boys were alive, a dance with death but those two were leading. As they always seemed to be. Logan didn’t speak up in the comms, but it was a detail that Keegan stopped looking for. The silence of logan was much more comfortable than the hoarse, out-of-use, scratchy baritone of his voice. Logan found comfort in Keegan’s own quietness, while Keegan found trust in the occasional words spoken to him by the younger Walker. A novelty reserved for him only.
Keegan had arrived at the beach where Hesh’s coordinates were marked in anticipation but when he got closer to the shore, an air of uncertainty settled over him again, despite the good news that led him here. Keegan had learned when he was sixteen when to trust that gut feeling, that premonition was the only thing to get him out of the god-forsaken operation of sand viper. He trusted it just as much as he trusted his abilities. Keegan grabbed his pistol from the holster on his thigh, instantly on guard, as he signaled his men to spread out. Once his boots landed on the rocky shore, he saw Hesh lying in the sand, covered in blood, unmoving.
“Hesh!”
His legs carried him, checking his surroundings gun raised as the distance between him and the unmoving body became lesser. As he got closer, Keegan noticed the absence of Logan, sparing a glance, not finding his body anywhere near. There was something so incredibly wrong about the situation and he needed to find out firsthand. Keegan dropped to his knees beside Hesh, placing two fingers on his pulse line to feel for a rhythm, grateful that it was there and strong. He straightened his body out, picking him up by the waist to haul Hesh against the rocks, glad that the other was alive, worried about the absence of his brother.
Keegan gently shook Hesh, wanting to wake him, when suddenly Hesh opened his eyes and screamed “LOGAN!”
His eyes skirted around them, not registering that Keegan was in front of him, his hand gripping his shoulders as he started to crawl towards his right, yelling, “Logan! Logan! Please!”
The same fear from earlier dripped into Keegan’s bloodstream, never before seen Hesh like this, the eagerness and manic look in his eyes. The brokenness of his voice, as if he had been screaming before Keegan had arrived, the desperate clutching towards open air as Keegan kept him pinned against the rock.
“Hesh!, Get it together!”
At the sound of his voice, Hesh clicked into his senses. His eyes focused but never lost the desperation in the green irises. His eyebrows were scrunched, half of his face covered in blood while the other wore remnants of his ghost makeup. His hand rose to grip Keegan’s forearms, clutching so hard that Keegan knew there was to be bruising.
“Rorke. He took Logan.”
All the emotion that had been running through Keegan’s blood ran cold. The fear froze up and melted into blood-lusted fury.
When Keegan didn’t immediately respond, he clutched harder, ripping Keegan's grip from his shoulders, pushing him back, and moving to crawl in the same direction he once was, injuries forgotten while desperation and adrenaline spurred him on.
Keegan's ears threatened to bleed at the volume of Hesh's voice, the words rattling in his brain like a pinball, “HE FUCKING TOOK LOGAN. DRAGGED HIM LIKE A SACK OF NOTHING. LOGAN! LOGAN PLEASE!”
Keegan sat on his ass, hand behind him from the force of Hesh’s push, his brain not comprehending the words that were just spoken but feeling the weight of what they meant. The absence of the younger Walker had a newfound meaning, it crushed his chest, robbed him of his breath, and panic rose in his throat. He grabbed his gun again and stood, cocking the barrel and starting towards the same direction Hesh was going. As he walked past, he pulled Hesh from the neckline of his vest and once again propped him against a rock, “Stay” rumbling from his throat and passing his teeth.
He followed the pattern of drag through the sand until it disappeared into the dense forest, he almost took a step further determined to find Logan, but the rational part of his brain overrode his feelings. He had no backup, no plan… nothing. And like hell was he going to get himself or any of the Walkers killed.
Keegan turned into the radio channel that reported back to Merrick at the base, “I have Hesh. Rorke is alive and captured Logan.”
There was silence for a few moments.
“Roger. Come home.”
Every fiber in his being was telling him to stand down, to say "fuck it" with the direct order, to continue his search into the dense forest, to hell with unknowns and the increasing darkness. He needed Logan, he needed to find Logan. To kill Rorke once and for all, to let the revenge he so desperately craved consume all the pain Rroke has caused him, to avenge his fallen brothers, and to get Logan back in his arms.
But he didn’t.
He turned his back onto the forest, to the drag marks in the sand.
He turned his back to Logan. A thought that Keegan did not want to entertain, since he knew, better than anyone, that he would be back.
Even If it's the last thing he may do.