Work Text:
The fluorescent lights above flickered faintly, and the sterile scent of disinfectant filled the air as Mason groggily opened his eyes. His head throbbed, and a dull ache pulsed in his leg. He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar ceiling tiles above him. His body felt heavy, his thoughts scattered and disjointed.
His gaze shifted downward, and he saw his leg wrapped tightly in bandages. The sight brought a wave of confusion. What had happened?
He noticed a small figure slumped in the chair beside his bed, before he could remember anything. David. His son was curled up, fast asleep, his small frame dwarfed by the oversized chair. The sight stirred something deep in Mason’s chest. What the hell David was doing in here? And where is "here"?
“David,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and weak.
The sound stirred David, his head jerking up as his bleary eyes shot open. For a moment, there was only silence as their gazes met. Then, without warning, David launched himself at Mason, wrapping his arms tightly around his father’s neck.
“Dad!” David’s voice cracked as he clung to Mason, his small body trembling. “You’re awake... you’re awake.”
Mason froze, his muscles stiff from both pain and the unexpected embrace. Slowly, he raised an arm and rested it on David’s back, his fingers brushing against his son’s hair. “Hey, hey... I’m here. I’m here,” he murmured, though his voice carried an undercurrent of confusion.
David pulled back just enough to look at Mason, his face streaked with fresh tears. “I thought... I thought you weren’t gonna wake up,” he said between sobs. “When I woke up in that basement, you weren’t moving. I called you, but you wouldn’t wake up!”
Mason’s heart twisted painfully at the raw fear in his son’s voice. He tightened his hold on David, his confusion giving way to an overwhelming need to comfort him. “I’m okay now,” he said softly. “I’m okay. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”
But David shook his head, his words spilling out in a rush as he clung to Mason again. “And then I saw Uncle Woods. He... he was crawling toward me, but he couldn’t even get to me before he passed out. He was bleeding everywhere, and his knees... they looked... they looked so bad. Like a mess of... of meat. And his arm was bleeding too. There was so much blood!”
Mason’s breath hitched, his stomach churning at the vivid description. Images of Woods, broken, bleeding, barely holding on, flashed through his mind, and a cold sense of dread settled over him.
“David,” Mason said, his voice firmer now, though his hands shook slightly. “What happened? Tell me everything.”
David sniffled, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve as he tried to calm down enough to speak. “We were in the basement, and uncle Hudson was tied up in a chair. There was... there was blood everywhere, and you were on the floor, not moving. And one-eyed man... And Uncle Woods—” David’s voice cracked again, but he pushed through. “He tried to reach me, but he just... collapsed.”
Mason’s chest tightened, his mind racing as he pieced together the fragments of the story. He didn’t remember any of it, but the sheer terror in David’s voice was enough to make his heart ache.
“Is Woods...?” Mason couldn’t bring himself to finish the question, the fear twisting in his gut.
David nodded quickly, his voice soft. “They brought him here too. He’s in another room, but... but they said he’s very tired and needs rest...”
Mason knew what that meant. No one knew would Woods survive or not. He rested his chin on David’s head, holding him close as he tried to process it all.
“It’s gonna be okay, kid,” Mason said finally, though his voice wavered slightly. “We’re gonna be okay. I promise.”
David nodded against his chest, his breathing starting to even out as the overwhelming fear began to fade. Mason's arms tightened around David as his son pulled back slightly, looking up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes.
“Dad,” David began, his voice trembling, “what about the one-eyed man? The one who was there... I’m scared of him. Is he...
Mason’s heart skipped a beat. Menendez. The name slammed into him like a freight train, and his mind briefly flashed to fragmented memories. Hostility, threats, and a darkness that seemed to follow Menendez wherever he went. The terror in David’s voice only made it worse.
Mason forced himself to keep his expression neutral, his fingers brushing gently through David’s hair. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said softly, “you don’t need to worry about him, alright? He’s not here. He’s not going to hurt you.”
David’s gaze searched Mason’s face, looking for reassurance. “But what if he. What if he comes back?”
“He won’t,” Mason said firmly, his voice carrying an edge of finality. “I won’t let him. I promise, David. You’re safe.”
Before David could press further, the door to Mason’s room opened, and a small group of nurses entered, their expressions a mix of urgency and professionalism.
One of them, a kind-looking older woman with a warm smile, stepped forward. “We’re sorry to interrupt, but we need to check on your father, sweetie,” she said to David, her tone gentle. “Why don’t you come with me? It’s dinner time, and we’ve got something tasty for you in the cafeteria.”
David hesitated, glancing at Mason as if asking for permission.
“It’s okay, buddy,” Mason said, giving him a reassuring nod. “Go eat something, and we’ll talk more later, alright?”
David reluctantly let go, allowing the nurse to take his hand and lead him out of the room. Mason’s chest felt hollow as he watched him go, but he quickly turned his attention back to the nurses who were now checking his vitals and tending to his wounds.
He clenched his fists as the nurse inspecting his leg adjusted the bandages. “Do you... Any news on Woods? Sergeant Frank Woods,” Mason asked, his voice low but tense. “Where is he? Is he okay?”
The nurse glanced at him briefly, her expression tight. “He’s in the ICU. It’s... touch and go. About 30/70, if I’m being honest.”
Mason’s heart sank, the room seeming to tilt slightly. He didn’t press further, knowing he wouldn’t get anything more concrete. He leaned back against the pillow, his jaw tight as the nurse continued her work.
When they finished, Mason was left alone with a tray of unappetizing hospital food. He poked at it absently with a fork, his appetite nonexistent. His mind swirled with fragmented memories, trying to make sense of the chaos.
He remembered splitting up with Woods. But then... something went wrong. Someone who shouldn’t have known his position had gotten behind him. The sharp, suffocating sensation of a black bag being forced over his head came back to him in flashes.
Pain flared in his leg as the memory sharpened. Blinding, searing pain, followed by the cold of the ground. And then... nothing.
Mason’s fork clattered against the tray as he set it down, his hands trembling slightly. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fill in the gaps.
Mason stared blankly at the untouched tray of hospital food, his mind churning. His thoughts turned to David, the weight of it all settling heavily on his chest. The military hospital wasn’t a place for a kid. Cold, sterile, filled with an undercurrent of tension that even an adult couldn’t ignore. But considering everything that had happened, David wouldn’t leave. Mason still had no clue how David ended up in Panama. Too many gaps.
The image of David trembling, his voice cracking as he described Woods’ injuries, haunted him. Mason had seen Woods survive impossible odds before, but this... this was different. The nurse’s words echoed in his mind. 30/70. It was bad. So bad he wanted to scream.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His head throbbed. Not just from the painkillers dulling his leg, but from the sheer weight of it all. The fragments of memory were maddening, like puzzle pieces scattered across a table with no clear picture to guide him.
One piece stood out, sharp and clear amidst the haze. Menendez.
Mason clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. Was Menendez the one behind all of this? The ambush, the chaos, the near-death of Woods? His mind spiraled, questions piling on top of one another with no answers in sight.
His chest tightened, frustration mingling with exhaustion. He knew the next 24 hours would bring more questions. Questions from superiors, demands for a report, and likely no clear path forward until there were updates on Woods.
And that was the worst part.
The uncertainty.
He sighed heavily, leaning his head back against the pillow. What a goddamn mess.
Mason pushed the now-empty tray to the side table, feeling the hollow satisfaction of having forced himself to eat. The act of chewing and swallowing had done little to ground him, but at least it was one less thing to think about. His mind was still racing when a faint shuffle by the door caught his attention.
He looked up quickly, his body tensing out of instinct, but his expression softened immediately when he saw David standing there, hesitating just inside the doorway.
“David?” Mason’s voice was low, his concern evident. “Everything okay?”
David didn’t answer right away. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, his gaze darting to the floor before finally meeting Mason’s eyes. “Can I... sleep here tonight?” he asked softly, his voice almost a whisper.
Mason blinked, his heart aching at the vulnerability in his son’s voice. It was only then that he realized how much time had passed. It was already dark outside, the dim glow of the room’s overhead light casting long shadows on the walls. When he woke up, he didn't even notice that the room was filled with the orange light of the sunset, so no wonder it was night already.
Without hesitation, Mason nodded. “Yeah, of course. Come here.”
David moved cautiously toward the bed, climbing up on Mason’s uninjured side. He curled up against his father, his small frame fitting snugly against Mason’s chest. Mason shifted slightly, ignoring the dull ache in his leg as he wrapped his arm around David, his hand resting on his son’s back.
“It’s okay,” Mason murmured, his voice soothing. “I’ve got you.”
David didn’t say anything, but his breathing began to slow as Mason’s hand moved in gentle, rhythmic strokes along his back. The tension in David’s small body gradually melted away, and soon, his soft, even breaths signaled that he’d fallen asleep.
Mason stayed awake, staring at the ceiling as he continued to hold his son. The weight of the day lingered heavily on him, but with David safe and close, for the first time since waking up, he allowed himself a small moment of peace.
***
The sterile white of the hospital room slowly came into focus. Woods’ body felt like it was made of lead, every movement dulled by the weight of painkillers. The deep ache of injuries still pulsed beneath it all, a steady reminder of what had happened. He tried to shift but stopped as the pull of bandages around his arm and legs made even the slightest motion a struggle.
Voices nearby began to filter through the haze. One was young, high-pitched, muttering with frustration. The other… the other was steady, warm, achingly familiar.
Mason.
No. That couldn’t be right.
Woods’s breath hitched, his throat tightening. The fog in his mind tried to convince him it was real, but the heavy weight of memory dragged him down. Mason was dead. Because of him...
The ache in his chest spread, sharper than any wound he’d taken in the field. His mind was doing it again, playing cruel tricks on him, just like Da Nang. Images, voices, ghosts conjured by guilt and grief. A punishment for all the ways he’d failed. Or hope to keep going. Woods wasn't sure what was it now.
He cracked his eyes open, unwilling but unable to resist the compulsion to look. At the desk near the hospital bed, a small figure bent over a sheet of paper covered in scribbles. David, mumbling to himself, pencil scratching against the surface.
But next to him, guiding him with soft, patient words, was Mason. His broad shoulders, that stupid, relaxed grin. Everything about him was too clear, too real for a hallucination.
But it had to be.
Mason wasn't real back at Da Nang, so can't be now.
Woods clenched his jaw, swallowing the lump rising in his throat. Tears began to blur his vision, hot and silent. His chest felt too tight, his breaths shallow. He refused to blink, afraid the tears would spill over, afraid the illusion would vanish. Or worse, stay.
The motion must have caught their attention. David looked up first, his expression shifting from frustration to joy in an instant.
“Uncle Woods!” the boy shouted, springing from his chair. He hesitated as he reached the bedside, his excitement giving way to uncertainty. “Can I… uh… I don’t wanna hurt you.”
Woods tried to respond, to force out some reassuring words, but his voice caught in his throat. He lifted his uninjured arm instead, his fingers trembling as he gestured. David took the invitation, leaning in carefully to wrap his arms around Woods’s shoulder.
The boy’s hug was light but fierce in its emotion. “You scared us,” David whispered, his voice cracking. “I thought you weren’t gonna wake up.”
Woods swallowed hard, trying to pull himself together. “Sorry, kid,” he murmured, his voice raw and uneven. “Guess I’m tougher than I look.”
But his eyes darted past David to the figure now standing at the bedside. Mason’s expression was soft, the kind of warmth Woods remembered but hadn’t seen in years. It cut him to the core.
He’s not real. He’s not real.
“Mason,” Woods choked out, his voice barely audible.
Mason leaned in closer, his features filled with something Woods couldn’t name but made his defenses crumble. “I’m here, Frank.”
Woods shook his head, tears falling freely now. “You’re not. You can’t be.”
Mason didn’t respond with words. Instead, he cupped Woods’s face gently, his thumb brushing against his cheek. The touch was so warm, so grounding, it broke something inside Woods. And then Mason kissed him. Soft, slow, full of tenderness that pulled Woods from the depths of his despair.
When Mason pulled back, Woods was left trembling, breathless. He could still feel the warmth of the kiss, the weight of Mason’s hand against his skin.
“Real enough for you?” Mason murmured, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.
Woods closed his eyes, the flood of emotions too much to bear. But when he opened them again, Mason was still there, alive and steady.
And this time, he believed it.
“Wait, if you are...” Woods mumbled, his eyes darting to David, who was still standing beside him. “Mason, damn it, the kid! You were the one saying...”
Mason chuckled, clearly amused by Woods’ panic. “Relax, Frank. He already knows.”
David looked between them, his face lighting up with a grin. “Yeah! Dad told me everything. And Uncle Woods, you’re terrible at hiding things. Like, seriously, a photo of you and Dad kissing in your shoe? Who does that?”
Woods’ face flushed crimson. “You what? You went through my stuff?”
David laughed. “No! It fell out when I was in that loud helicopter! Good thing I found it before anyone else.”
Woods groaned, but Mason only grinned, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a romantic dumbass, Frank, but I guess I like that about you.”
David nodded enthusiastically. “Dad was so worried, when nurses said you are so tired you need to get some long sleep, he argued with some nurses to stay here, to wait for you.”
Woods let out a quiet sigh, his panic fading under the warmth of their smiles. “Sound like him,” he said softly, looking at Mason.
As Mason stood, he gave Woods’ hand a brief squeeze before stepping toward the door. “I’ll grab a nurse to make sure everything’s fine,” Mason said firmly, leaving no room for argument. “You’re not skipping out on a check-up, Frank.”
Woods rolled his eyes but didn’t protest, watching as Mason left the room. Once the door clicked shut, Woods shifted slightly, glancing at David, who had perched himself back on the chair by the bed.
The silence stretched for a moment before Woods cleared his throat, his voice low and hesitant. “Hey, uh... kid?”
David looked up, his expression curious.
“You’re... okay with this?” Woods asked, his words slow, like he was feeling his way through unfamiliar territory. “With me and your dad, I mean?” He couldn’t bring himself to say it outright, the vulnerability making him feel exposed.
David’s face scrunched in confusion for a moment before breaking into a smile. “Uncle Woods, you’re my second favorite person in the whole world. Why wouldn’t I want you around all the time?”
Woods blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in David’s voice. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say, his chest tightening with an emotion he couldn’t quite name.
“Well,” he said after a beat, his voice gruff, “guess I’ll take second place. Can’t beat your old man, huh?”
David giggled. “Nope! But you’re still the best uncle ever.”
Woods let out a low chuckle, reaching out with his good arm to ruffle David’s hair. “You’re not so bad yourself, kid.”
Later that day, as Woods was thoroughly checked by nurses David had been coaxed into taking a shower. Mason returned to Woods’ room right as nurses was leaving, carrying a small bag of snacks and other supplies, that he stored in his room. He set it on the table with a tired but satisfied smile.
“Figured I’d update you on everything,” Mason said, sitting down by Woods’ bedside. “There was no predictions when you will wake up. So... I stocked up for a couple of weeks. Got all of David’s school stuff, a few of his favorite snacks, and whatever else I could think of. Nurses have been great, by the way. They even lent him some shower supplies since we didn’t think to pack any.”
Woods raised an eyebrow. “Nurses are lending him stuff now? Didn’t know the kid had that kind of pull.”
Mason smirked, leaning back slightly. “What can I say? They like him. And... well, they’ve got hearts, Frank. They know what he’s been through.”
The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the hospital equipment. Mason leaned back in his chair, his eyes on Woods, who was staring at the ceiling. The silence stretched for a moment before Woods shifted, his lips pressing into a thin line.
“I should tell you what happened,” Woods muttered, his voice low and rough, like the words were scraping their way out of him.
Mason tilted his head slightly, giving Woods his full attention. “Only if you’re ready, Frank.”
Woods exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, I am. You deserve to know.”
He paused, collecting his thoughts, before speaking again.
“When I got to the roof,” Woods began, his voice steady but strained, “the comms with you were already messed up. Static, cutting in and out... I couldn’t tell what the hell was going on. Then Hudson... he’s the one who told me. Said the Nexus target was Menendez, under the bag.”
Mason’s expression darkened slightly at the name, but he stayed silent, letting Woods continue.
“I was pissed,” Woods admitted, his voice thick with anger and guilt. “After Angola... after what that bastard did, leaving me and my team to rot in that damn crate... Which... Well you saw how was it... I didn’t even think twice. As soon as Hudson said it was Menendez, I took the shot. Which... Still wrong even if it wasn't Manendez and I'm not justifying myself by any means...”
Woods’ hand curled into a fist, his knuckles white against the blanket. His voice dropped, cracking slightly. “But something didn’t sit right. I felt it, you know? Like... like something was off.”
Mason’s gaze softened, his steady presence silently urging Woods to keep going.
“I started heading down from the roof, and that’s when I saw how smug Noriega was.” Woods spat the name like it left a bad taste in his mouth. “I should’ve known right then. But I didn’t.”
He paused, his breathing uneven. “I run... And... when I saw you... when I realized it was you under the bag... I lost it. Tried to shoot Noriega, but before I could pull the trigger, Menendez showed up. I didn’t even see him coming, but he started shooting, and... I tried to fight back but he...”
Woods’ voice faltered, and his eyes glistened with tears he was desperately trying to hold back. “Mason, I should’ve known. I should’ve seen it. I should’ve protected you. I—”
He stopped, his breath hitching as the first tear slid down his face. He pressed a hand to his eyes, his shoulders trembling. “I’m sorry, Mason. I’m so damn sorry. If only i had clear head... If only i had thought for a second...”
Mason stood up, moving to sit on the edge of Woods’ bed. He placed a firm but gentle hand on Woods’ arm, his voice calm and steady. “Frank, listen to me. You didn’t know. None of us did. Menendez set us all up, and he played it perfectly. This wasn’t your fault.”
Woods shook his head, the tears coming faster now. “But I should’ve—”
“No,” Mason interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You couldn’t have known. And you did everything you could, Frank. You’ve always had my back, and I know you always will. That’s what matters.”
Woods let out a shaky breath, his hand falling away from his face as he looked at Mason. The guilt and pain in his eyes were raw, but Mason met them with unwavering certainty.
“You’re here, Frank,” Mason said softly. “I don't blame you. You hear me? It wasn't you. It was Manendez. Not you.”
Woods nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. Mason stayed where he was, his presence a steady anchor as Woods began to calm down.
Woods exhaled shakily, his hand brushing over his face as he stared at the ceiling. “There’s something about all of it that doesn’t sit right,” he muttered, his voice still thick with emotion but steadier now.
Mason tilted his head, watching him closely. “What do you mean?”
“It’s Hudson,” Woods said, his brow furrowing. “The way he kept pushing me to take the shot. He wanted a headshot, Mason. Hudson. The guy who’s always been about playing it careful, covering all angles. And he was so damn insistent.”
Mason leaned back slightly, processing this. “Hudson’s not one to miss details,” he admitted.
“Exactly,” Woods said, his voice gaining strength. “And Hudson, of all people, wouldn’t have just accepted it at face value. He knew Menendez. He knew how that bastard worked. How the hell did he not think that Menendez might’ve set us up?”
Woods shook his head, frustration bubbling under his words. “And then there’s David. He was supposed to be with Jenny, Hudson’s wife. So how the hell did Menendez get to him? How’d he even know where David was? Let alone get him out of there and to Panama? How the fuck, Hudson had no idea, that someone got into his house and took David?!”
Mason’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching slightly at the thought. “Hudson was the one convincing us, that Menendez was dead,” Woods continued, his voice tinged with bitterness. “But then we find out Menendez is alive, orchestrating this whole damn thing? None of it makes sense, Mason. None of it.”
The room fell into a heavy silence as Woods stared blankly at the wall, his mind clearly replaying every detail over and over.
“But the basement...” Woods’ voice cracked slightly as he spoke again. “I don't know...”
Mason nodded slowly, encouraging him to continue.
“Menendez had us all there,” Woods said, his tone quieter now. “Me, David, Hudson... He looked at Hudson and said he had to choose in ten seconds. One of us dies, or Menendez kills all three. Hudson...” Woods paused, swallowing hard. “He tried to beg. Said he had a wife, kids. That he couldn’t leave them.”
Mason’s chest tightened at the thought, but he stayed silent, letting Woods finish.
“In the end, he chose himself,” Woods said, his voice strained. “Told Menendez to kill him instead of us.”
Mason’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of the revelation sinking in.
“I don’t even know what to feel about Hudson now,” Woods admitted, his tone laced with conflict. “Part of me’s still pissed. Feels like he set me, you and David up somehow. Traded us off. Like he knew something he wasn’t telling us. But then he goes and does that? Sacrifices himself?”
Woods let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Mason. I don’t know how to make sense of any of this.”
Mason reached out, placing a hand on Woods’ arm. “You’re not supposed to make sense of it right now, hell considering this is Hudson and his super secure CIA secrets we won't ever know really find out what the hell was that,” he said quietly. “None of this is clean or simple, Frank. But you did everything you could. That’s what matters.”
Woods nodded faintly, though the haunted look in his eyes remained. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I just wish it didn’t feel like such a mess.”
The door to the room burst open, and David rushed in, still damp from his shower, his hair sticking out in every direction. His small feet skidded on the floor as he came to a stop, already mid-sentence.
“Dad! Uncle Woods! You won’t believe what I just... What is going on...?”
David froze, his eyes flicking between Mason and Woods. The air in the room was still heavy with unspoken thoughts, but the two men immediately shifted, their expressions softening.
“What’s up, kid?” Mason asked casually, leaning back in his chair as if nothing had happened.
Woods raised an eyebrow, his voice gruff but teasing. “You got something to share, or you just here to drip water all over the floor?”
David blinked, clearly confused for a moment, but then shrugged it off. “Oh! Right! I was gonna say, I figured out the problem with the math thing! I think I was right the first time, but—”
Woods cut him off, his smirk widening. “Hold it, genius. If you’ve got that much energy, why don’t you grab your schoolwork and let’s see if you can actually back that up?”
David groaned but grinned at the same time. “Uncle Woods, come on! I just got out of the shower!”
“Exactly,” Woods shot back, his tone playful but firm. “You’re fresh and ready to think. Besides, your dad looks like he could use a break.”
Mason chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re not wrong, Frank.”
David huffed dramatically but grabbed his backpack from the corner of the room, plopping it onto the small table. “Fine. But I was totally right this time. You’ll see.”
Woods leaned back against his pillows, his grin softening into something more genuine. “We’ll see, alright, kid. Show me what you got.”
As David spread his papers out with a determined expression, Mason and Woods exchanged a quiet glance. The heavy conversation from earlier lingered in the back of their minds, but for now, they let it fade, focusing instead on the boy in front of them.
Mason stood in the doorway for a moment, as he was about to leave, watching as Woods and David leaned over the papers scattered on the small table. Woods’ gruff voice carried a teasing edge as he pointed out something on the page, and David responded with an enthusiastic rebuttal, his hands gesturing animatedly.
The sight made something warm unfurl in Mason’s chest. Despite everything... the chaos, the injuries, the close calls... this... this moment felt right. It felt normal in a way Mason hadn’t realized he desperately needed. It felt like family.
He slipped out of the room quietly, his footsteps soft as he made his way to the first floor. The hallways were quiet, the usual bustle of the hospital muted in the late hour. His stomach grumbled faintly, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since earlier that day, but the thought of hospital food wasn’t appealing.
When he passed the cafeteria, he didn’t even glance inside. Instead, he took a sharp turn and headed toward the parking lot, slipping out of the side door without bothering to let anyone know. Technically, he wasn’t checked out of the hospital, but Mason had never been one to follow rules too closely.
The cold night air hit him as he stepped into the lot, his breath forming faint clouds in front of him. His car was parked near the far end, and he made his way to it quickly, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting someone to stop him.
Once inside the car, Mason exhaled, gripping the wheel tightly for a moment before starting the engine. He pulled out of the lot and headed toward the Burger Town he knew, must be around somewhere
As he drove, his thoughts churned. Everything about Panama felt wrong. The setup, the choices they’d been forced to make, the fallout. It all gnawed at him. But despite the mess, there was one undeniable truth. Woods and David were okay.
That fact alone made it easier to keep driving, to let his mind wander to the next step. Woods wasn’t the type to admit it outright, but Mason knew him well enough to see what was coming and he knew better than not to believe the doctors' predictions. Woods wouldn't be able to walk anymore and he would have to settle down.
By the time he reached Burger Town, the comforting glow of the sign cut through his darker thoughts. He pulled into the lot, placing a quick order through the drive-thru. A couple of burgers, fries, and one of those to sweet milkshakes Woods always claimed he didn’t like but somehow managed to finish every time.
With the food bag safely tucked in the passenger seat, Mason made another stop. Woods’ old apartment. He parked out front, the building’s dimly lit exterior stirring a mix of nostalgia and bitterness.
The place was barely lived in anymore, Woods having abandoned it for missions, other duties long ago and primarily for Mason's own house. But Mason knew Woods had a stash of clothes there, things he hadn’t gotten around to sorting or throwing out.
Inside, Mason quickly gathered what he could find. A few shirts, some comfortable pants, and one of Woods’ favorite jackets that he’d thought was long gone. He stuffed everything into a bag, tucking the Burger Town order inside to conceal it.
As he returned to the car and started back to the hospital, his mind quieted slightly. For all the mess they’d been through, for all the uncertainty still hanging over them, he had something tangible. Woods was alive, David was safe, and they had a chance to figure out what came next.
That was enough for now.
Mason slipped back into the hospital quietly, his movements smooth and practiced, ensuring no one caught sight of the bag in his hand. He made his way to the room quickly, glancing down hallways to avoid any curious eyes. Once he reached the door, he paused, listening for a moment.
Inside, he could hear Woods’ gruff voice, tinged with amusement. “You’re wiped out already, kid? Thought you had energy for days.”
David’s response was barely a mumble, his exhaustion evident even through the door. Mason smirked, shaking his head before stepping inside and gently closing the door behind him. The soft click of the lock made both Woods and David look up.
“About time,” Woods said, his tone playful but carrying a faint edge of curiosity as his gaze landed on the bag.
David perked up slightly, blinking through his tiredness. “What’s that?”
Mason didn’t answer immediately, moving to the table and setting the bag down. He began pulling out Woods’ clothes, one layer at a time, starting with shirts and pants.
“Got you some of your stuff,” Mason said simply. “Figured you’d want something more comfortable than a hospital gown.”
“You are a savior, Mason,” Woods replied, his expression softening for a moment.
But as Mason pulled out the last item, a jacket that Woods immediately recognized, the faint smell of fast food hit the air. Woods’ eyes narrowed slightly, his nose twitching.
“Wait a damn minute,” Woods said, his tone suspicious but amused. “Is that—?”
Mason smirked, finally pulling the Burger Town bag from the bottom of the pile and setting it on the table. David’s exhaustion vanished instantly, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
“Burger Town?” David practically squealed, scrambling to the edge of the bed. “No way! You got Burger Town?”
“Figured hospital food wasn’t cutting it,” Mason said, shrugging as he began unpacking the burgers, fries, and milkshakes.
Woods chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for the milkshake. “You’re breaking the rules, Mason.”
“Yeah, well,” Mason replied, handing David his burger, “'Gotta keep my reputation.”
The three of them sat together, the room filled with the comforting smell of fast food and the sound of quiet laughter as they dug in. David chattered excitedly about how much better this was than the cafeteria food, while Woods made occasional snarky comments about how Mason couldn’t resist playing the hero.
Mason, for his part, sat back and watched them, his burger forgotten for a moment. He looked between Woods, with his dry humor and steady presence, and David, who was animated and full of life despite math and everything they’d been through.
For the first time in what felt like weeks, Mason felt a sense of calm settle over him. They were battered, bruised, and dealing with more questions than answers, but they were here. Together.
Whatever came next, they’d figure it out.
As a family.