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The call came in the middle of the night, jolting Mason awake. His phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand, and he grabbed it with a groggy groan, squinting at the screen. The unfamiliar Pennsylvania number made his stomach drop, and a wave of dread hit him before he even answered.
“Yeah, this is Mason,” he said, his voice rough with sleep.
“Mr. Mason,” the voice on the other end began, calm but clinical. “This is Nurse Evans from Allegheny General Hospital in Pittsburgh. We have a Frank Woods here in critical care, listed as your next of kin.”
Mason shot upright, his heart pounding. “Woods? What happened? Is he… How bad is it?”
“He’s stable now,” the nurse assured him, “but he came in with severe injuries. A broken leg, fractured ribs, and some internal bleeding. He’s conscious, but sedated. I can’t provide further details over the phone, but—”
“Where is he?” Mason interrupted, already throwing off the covers and grabbing his clothes. “Pennsylvania? What the hell is he doing in Pennsylvania?”
“I’m not sure, sir. He was brought in from an incident downtown. If you need to get here—”
“I’m on my way,” Mason said, cutting her off. “Thank you.”
The nurse gave him a few more logistical details, but Mason barely processed them. As soon as the call ended, he was moving on autopilot. His hands shook as he scrolled through his phone, booking the earliest flight he could find. Pennsylvania? Woods had never mentioned going back there, not once. Mission that Mason wasn’t aware of? Hudson’s could do this in a heartbeat. Next time he would see him, he would…
Mason paused only long enough to call someone to watch David while he was gone. The kid wasn’t old enough to take care of himself and Mason didn’t want him alone either.
“Alex?” It was one of the neighbors he trusted, a no-nonsense woman who’d helped out before.
“I need a favor. Something’s come up, and I have to head out of town for a couple of days. Can you keep an eye on David?”
“Of course,” she said, her tone concerned. “Is everything alright?”
“I don’t know, most likely not,” Mason admitted, running a hand through his hair. “My friend is in the hospital. I just got the call.”
“Oh no. Is he going to be okay?”
“He’s stable as far as i know,” Mason said, though the words felt hollow. “I just... I need to get there.”
“Go,” she said firmly. “I’ll take care of David.”
Mason muttered a quick thanks and hung up, throwing his essentials into a bag. His mind raced as he headed for the airport. He couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that something was wrong.
The next day, Mason was already at the hospital, sleep-deprived and anxious as he approached the reception desk. His heart thudded in his chest as he leaned forward, speaking quickly. “Alex Mason. I’m here for Frank Woods. I'm his next of kin.”
The receptionist glanced up, her expression neutral as she tapped at her keyboard. “Yes, Mr. Woods is in room 223. But... He’s already got visitors.”
Mason froze, his blood running cold. “Visitors? Who?”
“His parents,” the receptionist replied, looking up briefly. “They checked in just a few minutes ago.”
Mason’s stomach twisted violently. His parents? Mason clenched his fists, his mind racing. Woods had never once mentioned his parents. Never talked about them, never visited them. All Mason knew about Woods’ childhood was that he’d grown up on the streets, fighting to survive. And if basic sense talled him something, that in no world a loving and alive parent will let this ever happend.
“His parents,” Mason repeated, his voice low and strained.
The receptionist gave him a polite nod before returning to her work, leaving Mason standing there, frozen. His mind spiraled, panic bubbling just under the surface.
What the hell was going on?
Woods groaned softly as he opened his eyes, the bright white of the room’s ceiling swimming into view. His body ached in ways he couldn’t describe, a dull, all-encompassing pain that left him feeling like he’d been run over by a truck. Tubes and wires tugged at his arms, and the steady beeping of machines filled the silence around him.
He blinked a few times, trying to focus on the view outside the window. It was unfamiliar. Trees and buildings he didn’t recognize. Where the hell am I? Fuck, that intel was a flop after all.... His mind scrambled for more answers, but the last thing he remembered was the mission, the chaos, and then... nothing.
His throat felt dry and raw as he croaked out, “Nurse? Someone?”
Nothing.
Panic began to bubble in his chest as he tried to sit up, the restraints of his injuries and the wires tethering him to the machines keeping him from moving much. His heart raced as he strained to figure out where he was and why.
Then the door opened.
Woods turned his head sharply, expecting a nurse or maybe Mason, but what he saw made his blood run cold.
It was them. His parents.
The years hadn’t softened their features much. His father still had that hard, imposing presence, and his mother stood just behind him, her expression as cold and unyielding as he remembered.
“No,” Woods muttered under his breath, his voice shaking. His hands clenched at the sheets, his breathing growing rapid. “No. You’re not... you’re not real.”
But they were. His father stepped closer, his boots echoing against the linoleum floor. “So, this is where you’ve ended up,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “Some war hero, huh? Look at you, Frank. Pathetic.”
Woods froze, his chest tightening as memories of his childhood crashed down on him. The yelling, the beatings, the constant reminder that he was nothing in their eyes. He wasn’t a grown man, a soldier who’d survived countless battles. He was eight years old again, scared and small, cowering under his father’s shadow.
“I... I don’t.... What are you doing here?!” Woods stammered, his voice trembling.
“Your nurse called,” his mother said flatly. “Next of kin, remember? I thought you might have grown out of your uselessness by now, but I see you haven’t.”
“Stop,” Woods said, his voice rising slightly. “You don’t get to... you don’t get to say that.”
“Don’t talk back to me, boy,” his father snapped, his voice sharp and dangerous. He stepped closer, looming over Woods, his hand clenching into a fist. “You think you’re something special now? Some big shot? You’re still the same worthless little—”
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. Woods’ heart leapt in his chest, but his father didn’t stop.
“You listen to me,” his father hissed, his hand raising. “You don’t ever—”
The door slammed open.
“Hey!” a voice roared, and before Woods could process what was happening, someone barreled into the room.
It was Mason.
He moved like a force of nature, taking less than a second to understand the situation, his fist connecting with Woods’ father’s face in a single, brutal motion that sent the man sprawling to the floor. The room seemed to freeze as Mason stood there, breathing hard, his blue eyes blazing with fury.
Woods’ mother gasped, stepping back in shock, but Mason didn’t even glance at her. His focus was entirely on Woods, his expression softening only slightly as he looked him over.
“You okay, Frank?” Mason asked, his voice low and steady despite the adrenaline still pumping through him.
Woods didn’t answer right away. His breath came in shallow, shaky bursts, his wide eyes fixed on Mason. Finally, he nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “Mason... I—”
The room erupted into chaos as security rushed in, their radios crackling and voices sharp as they tried to assess the situation. Woods’ father was already pulling himself off the ground, his face twisted in fury, while his mother stood frozen, her gaze darting between Mason and the guards.
Woods sat there, frozen in the bed, unable to move or speak. His chest heaved with shallow breaths as his father straightened, his glare locking onto Mason. For a moment, Woods was back in his childhood. Helpless, trapped, bracing for the next blow.
Then Mason stepped between them, his broad frame blocking Woods from view entirely, ready for a fight. The sight jolted Woods back into reality, his voice breaking through the chaos.
“That man,” Woods said, his voice shaking but firm enough to be heard, “attacked me. He is not even supposed to be here. Mason was defending me because I can’t defend myself right now.”
The guards turned their attention to Woods, their expressions shifting as they processed his words. One of them stepped forward, his tone measured but firm. “Sir,” he said, addressing Woods’ father, “we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Like hell I’m leaving!” Woods’ father bellowed, his fists clenching. “This is my son, and I’ll say whatever I damn well—”
“Enough!” Mason snapped, his voice a thunderclap that silenced the room. He turned slightly, his gaze sharp and unyielding as he stared down Woods’ father. “You’ve got no right to be here if you’re gonna act like this. Frank doesn’t need this shit. Get out.”
The guards moved in then, their patience clearly at its limit. Woods’ father resisted at first, his voice rising in protest, even getting ready for the next punch, but nothing a good old punch under the knee and handcuffs, letting them to escort him out. Woods’ mother lingered briefly, her lips pressed into a thin line, but when she saw the way Mason stood protectively by the bed, staring at her with fierce gaze, she turned and left without a word.
The door clicked shut behind them, and the room fell into silence, save for the steady beeping of the heart monitor.
Woods stared at the door, his body trembling as the adrenaline began to fade. His hands clenched at the hospital sheets, his breath hitching as he tried to pull himself together.
“Frank,” Mason said softly, his voice cutting through the quiet.
Woods flinched slightly, his gaze darting to Mason, who had turned to face him. Mason’s expression was no longer furious but calm, his blue eyes filled with concern. He moved closer to the bed, crouching slightly so he was at eye level with Woods.
“You’re shaking,” Mason said gently, his hands resting lightly on Woods’ arms. “It’s okay. They’re gone. It’s over.”
Woods let out a shaky breath, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t... They... And i... and he...”
Mason’s grip on his arms tightened slightly, grounding him. “They’re not getting anywhere near you again, Frank. Not while I’m here.”
Woods nodded weakly, his head falling forward as he tried to steady his breathing. Mason stayed close, his presence solid and comforting, like an anchor in a storm.
“You’re safe,” Mason said quietly, his tone steady. “I’ve got you.”
Woods trembled violently, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps as he clung to Mason as much as he could with the tubes and wires tethering him to the bed. His fingers gripped weakly at Mason’s shirt, his voice a jumble of fragmented words and incoherent attempts to speak.
“I... I can’t... they...” Woods choked out, his voice cracking as he struggled to find his footing amidst the flood of emotions crashing over him.
Mason didn’t say a word. He simply shifted closer, his arms wrapping around Woods in a protective embrace, one hand gently stroking his back. His presence was steady, grounding, and for a moment, Woods just leaned into him, letting the solid warmth of Mason’s body anchor him.
After what felt like an eternity, Woods finally managed to force the words out, tripping over them as he spoke. “I... I was eight,” he stammered, his voice hoarse. “That’s when... when I ended up on the streets.”
Mason’s grip tightened slightly, but he stayed silent, his hand never stopping its soothing rhythm on Woods’ back.
“They threw me out,” Woods continued, his words faltering. “Said I was worthless. Said I was just another mouth to feed.” His breath hitched, and he buried his face deeper into Mason’s chest, his voice muffled. “I didn’t know what to do. I... I was so hungry, Mason. All the time. Couldn’t find enough to eat.”
Mason held him closer, his chin resting gently against Woods’ head, his own breathing steady and calm, as though willing Woods to mirror it.
“And it was so cold... So cold... and every night, I thought... this is it. I’m not gonna wake up. And... and maybe that would’ve been better,” Woods said, his voice breaking. “I thought... I thought it’d hurt less if I just... stopped.”
Mason’s hand stilled briefly before resuming its slow, soothing motion. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to speak. He simply held Woods, letting him unload years of pain and buried memories that had clearly never been shared.
“I don’t know how I survived,” Woods admitted, his voice growing quieter, shakier. “It was just... cold and hunger and... nothing. For so long. I thought I was gonna disappear, and no one would notice. No one would care.”
His voice cracked, and he buried his face deeper into Mason’s chest, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Mason’s arms tightened around him, his own breath catching slightly.
Woods couldn’t see it, but he felt the warmth of tears dampening his hair, Mason’s silent grief mingling with his own.
They stayed like that, entwined in the silence of the hospital room, the only sound the faint beeping of the heart monitor and Woods’ ragged breathing. Mason didn’t speak. He just held Woods, his strength and warmth a quiet promise that he wasn’t going anywhere. For the first time in decades, Woods felt like he wasn’t alone in carrying the weight of his past.
Mason shifted slightly, his arms still wrapped tightly around Woods. He buried his face into Woods’ hair, his tears falling silently now, soaking into the strands. His grip never faltered, even as his own emotions began to overwhelm him.
“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known, Frank,” Mason whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve been through more than anyone should ever have to. You survived things that would’ve broken most people.”
Woods clung to him tighter, his trembling slowly subsiding as Mason’s voice surrounded him.
“You deserved better,” Mason continued, his words soft but steady. “You deserved someone who would’ve protected you, cared for you, made sure you never felt that kind of pain. You deserved the world, Frank, and it failed you. But you... you kept fighting. You kept surviving. You’re still here, and that says more about your strength than anything else ever could.”
Mason’s hand moved gently over Woods’ back, his touch deliberate and soothing. “You’ve got so much more in you than you think, Frank. You’re not just strong... you’re... you’re amazing. You’ve carried the weight of everything, and even when it’s broken you down, you’ve always found a way to get back up.”
Woods’ breathing began to slow, his grip on Mason loosening slightly as the tension in his body started to melt away.
“You’re not alone anymore,” Mason whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “You’ve got me, and you always will. No matter what.”
Woods shifted slightly, nestling closer into Mason’s chest, his face still buried in the crook of Mason’s neck. His breathing evened out further, soft and steady now.
Mason held him for a long moment, his hand still stroking his back as Woods’ trembling finally ceased entirely.
The soft beeping of the machines filled the room as Mason glanced down and realized Woods had fallen asleep. He was still clinging to Mason, his hands loosely gripping his shirt, his face pressed into Mason’s shoulder.
Frank’s trembling slowed further, his breath evening out as Mason’s voice wrapped around him like a cocoon. The quiet, steady reassurances, the whispered truths, how much Mason loved him, how much he’d always loved him, carried Frank into a peace he hadn’t felt in decades.
“I love you, Frank,” Mason murmured, his voice soft but steady. “More than anything in this world. You’ve always deserved everything, and if I have to, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”
Frank clung to the warmth of Mason’s voice, the strength of his embrace, and for the first time in years, he felt truly safe. Slowly, his body relaxed fully, his breathing deep and steady as he drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, after a thorough check-up, some persuasion and discharge papers signed, Mason helped Woods into the car waiting to take them to the hotel. The doctors had cleared Woods to travel, though they insisted on strict rest for the next few weeks. Mason had nodded along, already planning how to enforce that once they got home to Alaska.
But that was tomorrow’s task. Tonight, they had time. Time to just exist together.
Their hotel wasn’t far from the hospital, and after dropping off their things, the two of them decided to stretch their legs. The cool night air was refreshing, the city quieter now, the bustle of the day replaced by a serene stillness.
The alley they walked through was narrow, the buildings on either side casting long shadows. The moonlight filtered through, just enough to illuminate their path. The faint sounds of the city echoed in the distance, but here, they were alone.
As they walked, Mason slowed, his gaze flicking toward Woods. The lines of tension on Frank’s face were softer now, the usual guardedness replaced by something lighter, calmer.
Mason’s hand brushed against Woods’, and for a moment, he hesitated. But then he reached out, his fingers slipping into Frank’s. The action was simple, quiet, and filled with a tenderness he didn’t need words to explain.
Woods stiffened slightly at first, glancing down at their joined hands, but then he relaxed, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. Here, in the dark, under the moonlight, there was no one to see. No one to judge. It was just them, the world melting away as they walked side by side.
For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them comfortable, filled with a sense of understanding that didn’t need to be voiced. Mason’s thumb brushed over the back of Frank’s hand, a quiet reassurance, a promise.
And in the stillness of the night, Frank squeezed Mason’s hand in return, a silent acknowledgment of everything they shared and everything they would continue to share.
Under the glow of the streetlamp at the end of the alley, the soft golden light made the world around them feel distant, almost dreamlike. Mason stopped walking, gently tugging Woods to a halt beside him. The faint hum of the city faded, leaving only the sound of their breaths mingling in the cool night air.
Without a word, Mason leaned in, his eyes searching Woods’ face for a moment before closing the distance. Their lips met in a soft, deliberate kiss, a moment unhurried and filled with a depth of emotion that neither of them could articulate. Woods accepted it, his body relaxing as he leaned into Mason, his own way of silently saying everything he’d never been able to before.
But then, a click.
Woods’ eyes shot open, his heart skipping a beat as fear surged through him. He pulled back slightly, glancing around, only to see Mason’s hand holding a small camera, its lens glinting under the streetlamp.
“Mason,” Woods said sharply, his voice low but tense. “What the hell—”
“Relax,” Mason interrupted with a grin, his voice calm and reassuring. He held up the camera, showing it to Woods. “It’s just me, Frank. No one else.”
“What are you doing?” Woods asked, though the redness creeping into his face betrayed his embarrassment more than anger.
Mason smiled, his thumb brushing over the camera’s buttons as he tilted his head slightly. “Making a memory.”
“What?” Woods blinked, his voice still incredulous.
“A memory,” Mason repeated, his tone softening. “The world doesn’t give us much, Frank. People like us? We don’t get the same things others do. But this...” he gestured between them with a nod, “...this is ours. And I don’t want to forget it. Not ever.”
Woods looked away, his face heating as Mason’s words sunk in. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, though his voice lacked the usual bite.
“And you’re blushing,” Mason teased gently, lowering the camera. His grin faded into something softer, more sincere. “But I mean it. You’re the best damn thing in my life, Frank. If the world won’t let us have what we deserve, I’m gonna take what I can. Even if it’s just this.”
Woods swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he met Mason’s gaze. For a moment, he couldn’t find the words, so instead, he reached out and gave Mason’s hand a small squeeze.
“Fine,” Woods said finally, his voice gruff but carrying the faintest hint of a smile. “Just don’t show anyone.”
Mason chuckled, tucking the camera back into his pocket. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
As they stood under the streetlamp, the quiet of the night enveloping them once more, Mason leaned in again, his forehead resting gently against Woods’. And for the first time in a long time, Woods let himself feel it. The warmth, the safety, the love that Mason offered so freely. Something he used to fight for, Mason was giving like it was nothing... Maybe Woods could get used to this...