Max ran at the entire length of the field without taking her eyes off Logan, the rapid beating of her heart almost unbearable. She had never been so scared in her life – especially considering that no one was chasing her and she was in no immediate danger.
Logan, however, was another story.
His body, bent and bloody, was splayed across the ground and even with her heightened senses she could barely see his chest rising and falling as it should.
There was a sense of foreboding in the back of her throat and in her mind as she moved closer and closer. She knew he shouldn't be out there…his wheelchair was nowhere in sight and the darkness seemed to cling to everything around him, a single spotlight illuminating where he lay.
It was wrong. It didn't feel real and yet something made Max's heart lurch. There was no way that she was just imagining this. No way.
He really shouldn't be out here.
She'd had dreams before – plenty of dreams (haunting ones) – but this was so much more vivid.
Two long strides later and she was by his side, panting from the exertion despite having gone through much more strenuous exercise many times before.
She gingerly reached a hand down to stroke his cheek.
"Are you okay?"
Her other hand went down to feel his pulse.
Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.
He was still alive, but only just.
"Logan?" she repeated.
She blinked back tears that she hadn't felt coming.
"Max, are you still with me?"
She blinked again.
Opened her eyes.
"Logan! What's – ?"
She looked up into soft, caring eyes and realised… "I blacked out again, didn't I?"
Logan smoothed the hair from her sweaty forehead and nodded. "Yeah, you did. You've been out for almost twenty minutes."
Max sighed in relief and wrapped her arms around him. She had been hallucinating. "Good," she whispered into his ear, before kissing him softly. "That's a whole lot better than the alternative, trust me."
Logan offered her a grim smile and pulled her closer to him. "We'll get through this," he told her. "Together, we'll get through this."