who: logan & holly where: the clinic what: years later, logan and holly are finally reunited.
logan had put his name down the moment the clinic had opened for visitors, and he’s been counting down the days until the clinic door will finally be open to him—and yet, he stands in front of the clinic now, kept in place by an irrational fear.
what if she’s mad that it took me so long? what if she doesn’t want to see me at all? what if he’s a decade too late?
he’s scared—no, terrified of the possibility that holly might have already patched up the hole he’d left in her life, but he’s even more terrified of never seeing her again. he clenches his fists at his sides, digs his fingernails into his palms and lets the pain ground him.
and then, he finally goes through the door.
holly’s asleep when he reaches her bedside, and he takes advantage of it to properly look at her, cataloguing all the ways she’s changed ever since he’d last seen her. she’s so much thinner than he remembers her being, the collar of her sweatshirt slipping off one shoulder, revealing the sharp jut of her collarbone underneath.
the sweatshirt looks familiar, and he realises belatedly that it’s his. the fear that had gripped him earlier finally eases; he still means something to her, and that means everything to him.
he’s drawn from his thoughts and back to the present when he hears a soft whimper, holly’s brows drawing together in a frown as she mumbles incoherently in her sleep. he’s driven by pure instinct, settling on her bedside and grasping her hand in both of his.
the warmth of her hands burns even through the latex of his surgical gloves, too high to be a good sign, but it’s also proof that she’s alive, and logan almost wants to cry in relief. “shh,” he whispers softly, brushing his thumb over her knuckles, “it’s okay, i’m here now, i’m not leaving you again.”