Work Text:
The cabin was quiet, nestled deep in the wilderness where no one could find them. Frank Woods sat at the edge of a worn couch, his elbows on his knees, staring at the man he’d once thought he’d lost forever. Alex Mason was slumped in the wheelchair by the window, his head tilted slightly to the side, his gaze unfocused. He wore the same thin, blue hospital gown from the Blackout Program, a program Woods wished he could burn to the ground.
Both Woods and Mason had been brought back to life, but at what cost? Mason was a shell of the man Woods remembered—barely speaking, barely moving, his mind trapped somewhere between now and the numbers. As soon as Woods saw him like that, he just knew they can’t stay there. Fuck Savannah or anyone who thought they can just bring Mason back to life and control him! At least Woods thought that they were brought back as a soldiers not as Savannah’s granddad and his best friend.
Woods had pulled him out of that nightmare, driven by rage and a love he refused to let go of. He’d carried Mason to this cabin, far from the prying eyes of the people who had twisted him into this state, and vowed to bring him back. A cabin that they were planning to retire in and raise David together in. But after Panama… Woods left this place to David and looking by its shape, he took good take care of it. Most of Woods’s and Mason’s photos even were here. And looking by some stocked up food and solar panels, David was living here alone for some time.
“Mason,” Woods said quietly, standing behind Mason. “I will check what we have here and come back.”
Soon after, Woods understood that this place was as perfect as it can be in the middle of nowhere in Alaska. The only hope was that David hadn’t told anyone about it, otherwise they would be found soon. With few cleaning days, it was more than suitable for living. Woods was cocking slowly, David’s stocked up food and hunting or fishing in near woods and lake, feeding Alex with things he loved, that was possible to cock in here.
“3… 24… 20…” It was almost two weeks from their escape. The only thing Alex was doing is murmuring some numbers from time to time or look in horror in nowhere.
“Hey stay with me Al.” Woods’s touch seemed to anchor Mason, though slowly. “This thing is not real, you are with me.”
Mason’s head tilted slightly, his glassy eyes flickering toward the sound of Woods’s voice. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Woods leaned forward, his voice steady but soft.
“Yeah, it’s me, Al, Frank,” he said. You’re safe now.”
Mason blinked slowly, his lips parting like he wanted to say something, but no sound came out. His hands, resting limply on the arms of the wheelchair, twitched faintly.
Woods let out a shaky breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… just know I’m here. Always.”
Woods stayed there for hours, talking about nothing and everything. The missions they’d run together, the jokes Mason used to tell, the way Mason always managed to piss him off and make him laugh in the same breath. Mason didn’t respond, but Woods kept talking. He can’t leave Alex again.
It was small, almost imperceptible, but it was progress. Woods had been describing the sunrise outside the cabin window, his voice calm and steady, when Mason’s gaze shifted. His dull eyes flickered toward the light streaming through the glass, lingering there for a moment.
“You see that?” Woods asked, his voice hitching slightly. “That’s the sun, Alex. You used to say it looked better here, in Alaska, than anywhere else. That at least here it’s not like back in ‘Nam that even at its peak it doesn't exhaust so much.”
Mason’s fingers twitched against the armrest, and Woods leaned closer, his heart pounding. “You remember that? ‘Nam? Alaska? The cabin?”
Mason’s lips moved, but no sound came out. Still, it was more than Woods had seen in days. He gripped Mason’s hand gently, his voice low and full of quiet determination. “You’re still in there, Mason. I know you are.”
It was late at night when it happened. Woods was sitting beside Mason in their bed, his legs stretched out in front of him, the room lit only by the faint glow of the fireplace. He’d been dozing, wanting to wait until Alex starts to snore, when a faint sound pulled him awake.
“...Frank.”
Woods sat up so fast his back ached. “Al?”
Mason’s eyes were half-lidded, his expression still distant, but his lips moved again. “...Frank.”
“Yeah, it’s me,” Woods said, his voice trembling. He reached out, gripping Mason’s hand tightly. “I’m here, Mason.”
Mason blinked slowly, his head turning slightly toward Woods. “...Safe?”
Woods swallowed hard, nodding, even though Mason probably couldn’t see him clearly. “Yeah, you’re safe. I promise.”
For the first time since pulling Mason out of that hellhole, Woods felt hope. Real hope. Even if Mason kept asking the same question for almost two weeks, it’s better than nothing, it’s hope that Woods would take fully.
The days bled together, each one marked by small victories and frustrating setbacks. Mason had good days, when his eyes seemed clearer and his words—though few—came easier. Then there were the bad days, when he’d sit silently for hours, his hands twitching as if the numbers were crawling through his mind again.
Woods didn’t leave him, not once. He stayed by Mason’s side, talking to him, feeding him, helping him with everything. It was grueling, and it hurt like hell to see the man he loved like this, but Woods wasn’t giving up. Not now. Not ever.
One crisp morning, as the sun rose over the mountains, Woods sat across from Mason at the small wooden table, a cup of coffee steaming in his hands. Mason stared out the window, his expression unreadable.
“You remember this place, Alex?” Woods asked, his voice soft. “This was your dream, remember? To have a cabin out here. We even almost retired. You wanted to wake up in my hands, slowly, not like we used to do in barracks or safehouses. You said that I can forget about trying to let you cook because you knew better that you were much worse than I was. And even when I said that it isn’t that hard, you just shut me up with a kiss every time.”
Mason’s gaze shifted slowly to Woods. For a moment, Woods thought it was just another hollow look, but then Mason’s lips moved.
“Frank.”
Woods froze, his breath catching, Mason started to call out for him from time to time, but hope can’t let Woods think that this time would be the last and Alex would be back. “Yeah, Alex. It’s me. We are safe.” He answered as usual, waiting until Mason would drift away again.
Mason’s eyes focused, really focused, for the first time. His voice was quiet and raspy, but clear. “...I know.”
Woods blinked, his chest tightening. He reached across the table, his hand covering Mason’s. “You know?”
Mason nodded faintly, his lips twitching into the barest hint of a smile. “I… remember.”
The words hit Woods like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. Then, with a shaky laugh, he squeezed Mason’s hand. He tried to joke or something, but all words just stuck in his throat. Despite all his efforts, a few tears fell. And there a few more, and a few more.
“You are… crying.” Mason said slowly, even looking concerned.
“Just…” Woods finally said through tears. “Happy to have you back, Al.”
Mason’s smile widened slightly, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Woods saw the man he knew, the man he loved, looking back at him.
They had a long road ahead, but for the first time, Woods believed they’d make it. Together.