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A/N: You Wattpad readers are lucky- there's no final chapter count feature on Wattpad. On ao3, I changed the final chapter count from 44/50 to 44/45 just for the last chapter (I thought it'd be funny) and the panic in the comment section was hilarious. 

Anyways. Enjoy my loves.

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Your shoulder explodes in pain, and the blade that had been in your hand drops to the ground, discarded. "Logan!" you hear Mike shout, but you're already crumpling to the ground, hands fumbling with your shoulder. Blood is seeping between your fingers, spilling through your hands and soaking your sleeves and shirt.

"Shit," you force out, slumping to the ground as scouts crowd around you. "Shit, shit-"

"Logan," Sasha says, voice filled with horror, "I'm so sorry-"

"Bandages," Mike says immediately, snapping into action. Through the haze of your vision, you see him point to one of the scouts. "You, get the kit. Now."

You squeeze your eyes shut, then reopen. This can't be happening.

There's a stampede of scouts rushing to the shooter; you don't hear any more shots fired, so hopefully that means everyone else is alright. "Everyone okay?" you manage, craning your neck to look around.

A hand eases under your head, and more hands pull at your legs to get you into a more comfortable position. "Focus on yourself," Mike says calmly, and you see he's the one by your head. Something's shoved underneath, acting as some sort of pillow. "Deep breaths. Stay awake."

Someone grabs your hand. "Everyone's fine," you hear Jean say.

You smile weakly. "Jean," you say, feeling very loopy. "Good. Thank you."

Mike told you to focus on yourself, but Jean told you what you needed to hear- something you'll always appreciate Jean for. He's very good at that- being a perfect presence in any sort of injury crisis. He's done that for you before, back when you escaped that military dungeon.

God, he's such a good kid. He's so grown up...

Something presses up against your shoulder and you wince. "Bullet's probably still in your shoulder," Mike reports, still completely focused. "We need to wait until we can get to a controlled environment so that we can get it out."

"Sounds good," you croak. "Great plan."

"You'll be fine," someone says from behind you, and you think it's Connie's voice. He sounds shaky. "You're tough, Logan. You'll be fine."

You laugh weakly. "Yeah, I've... been through worse." You turn your head to Jean, finally getting a good look at him. He's kneeling by your side, grip iron tight on your hand. You appreciate the extra comfort. "We've got to... to stop doing this," you joke. "I really need to stop- stop dying right next to you."

Jean, to your surprise, chuckles. "Second time now?"

"Third," you croak out, scrunching your eyes shut as you wrack your brain for the memory. "First expedition outside... the walls."

"Your ribs," he remembers, smiling fading. "You passed out in the tree."

You nod slowly, smiling. "And then... the forest. Escaping. The dungeon."

Jean's smile is strained. "You weren't dying either of those times," he reminds you. "So you're not dying now."

"...Sure felt like I was."

Sure feels like I am hangs in the air. Neither of you say it.

Sasha drops down next to Jean, and her eyes are shining. "Logan," she says, her voice wavering. "I'm-"

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