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Gordon stood with his hands braced against the cold metal of the control panel, panting heavily. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, lungs burning from too long running and moving on too little energy. Snow swirled through the broken windows of the cable car station, carried in on a sharp wind that bit through his coat and stung the sweat on his skin.
They had made it.
Somehow—against all odds—they had made it.
They had survived the creatures. They had slipped past the police combing the sanctorium. They had reached the cable car.
Behind him, Pat stood near the open car, practically vibrating with excitement. The man was grinning from ear to ear, eyes bright in a way Gordon hadn't seen since the nightmare had begun. He kept glancing between the cable car and the mountains stretching out beyond it, like he still couldn't quite believe the escape was real.
He looked happy.
Free.
Even if he still couldn't remember a single thing about who he was.
The sight twisted something deep in Gordon's chest.
A sharp pang of guilt pressed in on him, heavy and familiar.
It wasn't his decision. He knew that. Bragg had been the one who insisted on keeping Pat sedated, on suppressing his memories. Bragg had said it was necessary. Safer for everyone.
But Gordon had been there.
He had watched it happen.
And he hadn't stopped it.
Maybe he should have pushed harder. Maybe if he had argued more, refused to cooperate, done something—anything—Pat wouldn't be standing there now with a blank past and no name to hold onto.
Maybe he could have helped him remember something.
Anything.
But he couldn't.
Gordon's grip tightened around the edge of the control panel until the metal dug into his palms.
None of that mattered anymore.
Because someone had to stay behind.
The control system wasn't automatic. One person had to remain at the station to operate it—had to press the button and hold it long enough for the cable car to clear the platform and reach the next tower safely.
Which meant one person wouldn't be getting on that car.
Gordon swallowed hard, staring down at the worn button beneath his hand.
Somebody had to stay behind and push it.
And he already knew who it was going to be.
Gordon flinched when a hand suddenly clasped around his arm.
For a split second his heart lurched into his throat, his body reacting before his mind could catch up, ready for claws or teeth or something dragging him back toward the nightmare they had barely escaped.
But when he turned his head, it was only Pat.
The man was still grinning, eyes bright with relief and excitement. Snow dusted his dark hair and shoulders, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.
“Come on, Gordon,” Pat said, tugging lightly at his arm. “We can go. We’re free.”
The words hung in the cold air between them.
Free.
Gordon hesitated.
He didn’t want to crush that fragile hope shining in Pat’s eyes. After everything they had been through—the creatures, the tunnels, the constant running and hiding—Pat deserved that feeling. He deserved the belief that they had made it out together.
But Gordon couldn’t pretend.
Not now.
Not when the truth was sitting right beneath his hand on the control panel.
He swallowed hard.
“I’m sorry, Pat,” Gordon said quietly.
Even saying the name out loud twisted something sharp in his chest.
Pat.
That stupid joke he had made. A quick, thoughtless nickname because the man had been nothing more than “Patient” on the hospital records.
Pat.
Short for Patient.
The sound of it buried Gordon under another wave of guilt.
He didn’t even know the man’s real name.
Not his name. Not where he came from. Not who he had been before Blackwood Mountain had taken everything from him.
And Gordon had been part of that.
Pat, however, didn’t seem bothered by the name. If anything, he looked more confused than anything else.
He tilted his head slightly, tightening his grip around Gordon’s arm.
“What are you sorry for?” he asked.
Gordon lifted his free hand and placed it gently on Pat’s shoulder.
The contact felt strangely grounding, even as dread coiled in his stomach.
“Someone has to stay behind,” Gordon said weakly. “To control the cart.”
The change in Pat’s expression was immediate.
The grin vanished.
His face dropped as if the ground had fallen out from under him.
The hand gripping Gordon’s arm tightened suddenly—so tight Gordon couldn’t stop the sharp wince that slipped through before he could hide it.
Pat didn’t even seem to notice.
His fingers dug in harder, like if he just held on tightly enough Gordon wouldn’t be able to leave.
And Gordon realized, with a sinking certainty, that there was no way Pat was going to let him do this.
Not without a fight.
Pat shook his head immediately, the movement sharp and frantic.
“No,” he said, breath hitching. “No, that can’t be right. We— we can control it from the cart, right?”
His grip on Gordon’s arm tightened again, fingers digging into the fabric of his sleeve as if trying to anchor him in place.
“We can’t leave you here,” Pat continued, the words tumbling over each other. “I— I can’t leave you here.”
There was something raw in his voice.
Desperation.
Almost pain.
As if the mere thought of walking away from Gordon hurt.
The sound of it made Gordon’s chest ache.
The guilt sitting inside him twisted harder, pressing against his ribs until it was almost difficult to breathe. He had to fight just to keep his voice steady.
“It’s my fault you’re here, Pat,” Gordon said quietly.
The words felt heavy leaving his mouth.
“That you don’t remember anything. That you were trapped in there for so long.” His gaze dropped briefly to the floor, jaw tightening. “I lied to you for so long—”
“No.”
Pat cut him off so suddenly Gordon blinked.
The word came out louder than anything Pat had said before, sharp with panic.
“I don’t care,” Pat insisted, shaking his head again. “It wasn’t your fault. None of this was you.”
His voice kept rising, growing more frantic with every word.
“It was Bragg’s,” he said, anger flashing through his expression. “And he’s already dead anyway.”
Gordon’s stomach twisted at the volume. His eyes flicked instinctively toward the dark mountain beyond the broken station windows, half expecting something to come crawling out of the snow at any moment.
“Pat—”
“You have to come with us,” Pat pressed on, his grip unrelenting. “Why does it have to be you that stays behind!”
Gordon opened his mouth to respond.
The words were already forming in his head—something about how it should be him. Something about how he deserved it.
About how Pat had already suffered enough.
About the weeks Gordon had spent watching him starve in that place, trapped and confused and terrified in a hospital that had treated him like nothing more than a test subject. A man who hadn’t even known his own name.
A man who had trusted Gordon anyway.
Guilt had been eating at him for weeks now, gnawing deeper every day.
It should be him.
But before he could say a single word, someone stepped up beside him.
A hand settled firmly on Gordon’s shoulder.
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Ted’s voice cut cleanly through the moment.
Gordon blinked, his thoughts screeching to a halt as he turned his head toward him.
For a second he just stared, not quite understanding.
But Ted didn’t give him time to process it.
Before Gordon could say anything, Ted was already gently but firmly pushing him away from the control panel and toward the cable car.
“I’ll stay,” Ted said simply. “You two get in the cart.”
“What—no—”
Gordon tried to protest, the words stumbling out as he attempted to pull back.
But the movement barely worked.
His body was too weak.
Too drained from everything they had been through—the hunger, the cold, the running, the fear that had never truly left them since they escaped.
And Pat—
Pat was still gripping his arm.
Fueled by pure adrenaline, Pat hauled Gordon toward the cable car with surprising strength, refusing to let him slow down or turn back.
“Pat, wait—!” Gordon tried again, trying to tug his arm free.
But Pat wasn’t listening.
Or maybe he just refused to.
The moment they reached the cart, Pat practically dragged Gordon inside.
The doors slammed shut before Gordon could gather enough strength to fight back.
There was a heavy metallic click.
Then a low mechanical hum.
Gordon turned sharply, heart lurching as the floor beneath them gave a sudden jolt.
Outside the window, Ted was already moving back toward the control panel.
“No—!”
The cable tightened.
The cart lurched forward.
And just like that, it began to move.
The station slowly started to slide away behind them.
Ted grew smaller in the distance.
They were leaving him behind.
Pat was still gripping Gordon’s arm.
His fingers were tight enough that it hurt, digging through the fabric of Gordon’s sleeve, but Gordon could tell the reason had changed.
The desperate determination from earlier was gone.
Now it felt like relief.
Relief mixed with guilt.
Pat was shaking. Not just a little either—his whole body trembled, the adrenaline that had dragged Gordon into the cart clearly beginning to burn out. Up close, Gordon could see how pale he was, how uneven his breathing had become.
It looked like the only thing keeping him upright was the hand still clutching Gordon’s arm.
Across the small cable car, Suzanne and David had huddled together in the corner. They hadn’t said a word since the cart had started moving. Suzanne’s arms were wrapped around herself while David stared blankly at the floor, both of them looking like they were still trying to process everything that had just happened.
Victor sat on the narrow bench along the wall.
His elbows rested on his knees, head buried in his hands.
He looked just as guilty about leaving Ted behind as Gordon felt.
Gordon forced his attention away from them and looked back at Pat.
Up close, the shaking looked worse.
Concern immediately pushed through the fog in Gordon’s head.
He lifted both hands and placed them carefully on Pat’s shoulders, steadying him, trying to keep him from collapsing. Honestly, Gordon was surprised neither of them had dropped to the floor already.
“Hey,” Gordon said softly. “You’re alright. We made it out.”
Pat blinked up at him, his eyes unfocused for a moment.
“Come sit down,” Gordon added gently.
For a split second, Pat just stared at him.
Then suddenly his hand shot forward.
Before Gordon could even process what was happening, Pat grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him downward.
Their lips crashed together.
Gordon froze.
Only for a moment.
Shock held him still for a heartbeat, his mind scrambling to catch up with what had just happened. But then instinct took over, and he found himself kissing Pat back without even thinking about it.
His hand slid from Pat’s shoulder, fingers threading into the back of his hair to steady him.
The kiss wasn’t careful or hesitant.
It was desperate.
Messy.
Like Pat had needed it just to prove that Gordon was really there.
And Gordon realized, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he needed it too.
The fear. The running. The guilt. The constant feeling that they weren’t going to make it out alive.
For a moment, all of it faded away.
All that existed was Pat.
The moment lasted far too short in Gordon’s opinion.
Pat pulled back suddenly, as if the realization of what he had done had just hit him all at once.
The fear in his eyes was immediate.
Wide. Uncertain.
Like he was waiting for Gordon to push him away.
Gordon just smiled softly.
He gave Pat’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, the warmth in the gesture meant to reassure him more than words could.
Then he guided him carefully toward the bench.
Pat barely made it the few steps before his legs seemed to give out beneath him.
He practically collapsed onto the seat.
Gordon sat down beside Pat on the narrow bench, the movement slow and careful as the exhaustion in his own body finally started to settle in.
He slid an arm around Pat’s shoulders and gently drew him into his side.
Pat came easily, almost limp against him.
Everything seemed to be catching up to him all at once. The adrenaline that had carried him through the mountain, through the mines and the station and the frantic fight to keep Gordon from staying behind, was gone now. All that was left was the shaking aftermath.
His head dropped against Gordon’s shoulder, breath uneven but slowly starting to steady.
Gordon adjusted his grip slightly, holding him a little closer without thinking about it.
Now that they were still—now that they were safe—everything was starting to catch up to Gordon as well.
The twisting pain in his stomach returned almost immediately.
Without the fear and constant motion drowning it out, the hunger came back sharp and insistent, a dull ache that reminded him just how long it had been since either of them had eaten anything close to a real meal.
Too long.
Gordon shifted slightly and gave Pat a gentle squeeze.
He felt the small movement as Pat smiled faintly into his shoulder where his head rested.
“You’re alright,” Gordon murmured softly. “We made it out.”
The words still felt strange to say.
Still felt impossible.
“And we’re going to go get burgers like I promised,” he added quietly. “You remember?”
Pat nodded against his shoulder.
The motion was small, his hair brushing softly against Gordon’s neck.
The memory of all those little promises surfaced between them—things Gordon had said over the past weeks in a desperate attempt to pull Pat out of the fog in his mind.
Burgers.
Fresh air.
Sunlight.
Freedom.
Anything to give him something to hold onto.
But the thought dragged Gordon’s guilt up with it.
Heavy and familiar.
He had done this to him.
He had let Bragg take Pat’s memories away. Had stood there while the man who now rested against his side had been turned into an empty patient file with no past, no name, no identity beyond whatever scraps he could piece together himself.
And yet…
Pat had still begged him to come with him.
Had still grabbed him and pulled him into that desperate kiss.
Had still curled into Gordon’s side like he belonged there.
Like Gordon was someone worth holding onto.
Maybe now that they were out…
Maybe now they could find the rest of Pat’s life again.
They could find his name.
Where he was from.
His family.
His memories.
Gordon glanced down at the man tucked against his side.
Pat’s hair tickled his nose slightly as Gordon leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head before he could even think about stopping himself.
Pat didn’t pull away.
If anything, he seemed to settle a little more comfortably against him.
That would come later.
For now, they had made it out.
And Gordon didn’t think he had ever been happier.