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Skull couldn’t believe his ears. He looked around the room at everyone. Boomer’s grief shifted at once into disbelief. GQ just stared, anger replaced momentarily by shock. Hummingbird’s breath caught audibly. His gaze went back to Jose.

“You didn’t know. You…you thought they were dead. I’m sorry. I got here as fast as I could. It was hell getting Hazard through the gap.”

“Where are they?” Iceman demanded, shooting to his feet.

Jose nodded toward the door. “Outside. In a sedan with Astrid, waiting.”

For a heartbeat, nobody moved. Then chairs screeched and bodies rushed for the exit. Skull reached the parking area first, spotting the dust-colored sedan. Astrid sat behind the wheel, eyes darting nervously at the armed Marines who’d followed them out. The back door opened, and Leigh emerged, dirty, cuts and bruises healing and fading, trembling, but very much alive.

“Leigh!” Anna cried. Boomer stumbled forward, tears still clinging to his lashes. Leigh burst into fresh sobs, half-laughing and half-crying as she saw them.

“We thought—” Boomer started, voice choked. He couldn’t finish. She threw her arms around him, hugging him like she’d never let go.

In the backseat, Hazard was slumped, barely conscious, his face drawn and pale. GQ slipped inside, took one hard look at their brother, then grabbed him in a hard hug. Kodiak, the team medic, pulled GQ out.

“Hang on, buddy,” Kodiak said urgently, checking Hazard’s vitals. “We’ve got you now. Someone call an ambulance!”

“On it,” GQ barked, snatching his phone out.

Within minutes, sirens wailed in the distance. Leigh looked around, half delirious with relief but still terrified for Hazard’s condition. Anna and Walker hovered beside her, offering water and a shoulder to lean on.

Skull placed a hand gently on Hazard’s shoulder as Kodiak worked. “Hazard, you’re safe,” he said, not quite able to keep his voice steady. “Stay with us, man.”

The ambulance squealed to a stop, medics spilling out, loading Hazard onto a stretcher. Leigh practically refused to let go of his hand, fear etched plainly across her face. The rest of the team formed a tight shield around them, not letting the paramedics out of their sight.

Moments later, they piled into vehicles, following the ambulance to the hospital. In Skull’s mind, the entire ride replayed the last few weeks of horror in a rapid loop. Pincho’s twisted vengeance, the father-in-law’s unthinkable revelation, the suffocating guilt of not rescuing their friends sooner. Now, unexpectedly, there was a new glimmer of hope. Hazard and Leigh were alive.

Yet, as they drove, Skull’s heart still felt heavy. They’d come so close to ultimate failure, but he was so damned relieved. He had to wonder if Leigh had already found a way to deal with Jose and Astrid’s request for asylum.

He exhaled, glancing back at the sedan behind him where Jose and Astrid trailed, guarded but hopeful. This was not the end, and it might only be the beginning of another fight. But at least they weren’t burying Hazard and Leigh. That small mercy, for now, was enough to keep them going.

A half an hour later, the hallway of the hospital ward was eerily silent, broken only by the hum of overhead fluorescents and the muted chatter of medical staff passing by. Skull stood near the wall, shoulders tense, gaze flicking back and forth between the swinging double doors that led to the exam rooms.

Leigh, trembling from residual shock but in one piece, clutched Walker’s hand. Iceman, solemn-faced and upright, was the calm center, keeping them all together. Strekoza lingered off to the side, arms crossed over her chest. Boomer, GQ, and Anna formed a protective cluster around Leigh, reassuring her in hushed murmurs. Iceman, Kodiak, and Preacher’s focus never left the door.

They had left Jose and Astrid back at the compound, under close watch by the Marines. No one wanted that confrontation to overshadow Hazard’s urgent need for medical care, especially given everything the couple had put them through. All that mattered now was whether Hazard would pull through.

Skull’s foot tapped an agitated rhythm against the tile floor. Every second felt interminable. He replayed the last moments at the compound, Hazard barely conscious, then whisked away by ambulance. The entire team had piled into vehicles to follow, hearts pounding. Now, they waited.

Finally, the doctor pushed through the double doors. He was a middle-aged man, hair sprinkled with silver, eyes warm but weary. Instantly, everyone straightened. Leigh stopped breathing for a moment, her grip on Walker’s hand tightening as though she might otherwise collapse.

Iceman stepped forward, strong and steady. “Doc,” he said calmly, though tension lay heavy in his voice, “what’s the news?”

The doctor gave a small, reassuring nod. “Your friend is doing remarkably well, all things considered. He has a linear skull fracture, one of the less severe types. From what he told us, or what we could gather, it seems Pincho’s father-in-law took excellent care of him. The fluids were key and he treated him correctly at a critical stage, preventing intracranial bleeding or a depressed fracture.”

A collective exhale passed through the group. Leigh’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“So…he’s going to recover?” Walker asked softly, voice trembling with hope.

The doctor offered a tentative smile. “Yes. He should. He’s stable and responding positively. We’re monitoring him, but from my assessment, he’s likely to make a full recovery, though, it won’t be overnight.”

Leigh let out a ragged sob of relief. Boomer pulled her into a fierce hug, while Anna rubbed comforting circles on Leigh’s back. GQ nodded once, looking down, still fighting the fear that had consumed him.

Skull dropped his head, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Relief washed over him in a heavy wave, followed almost immediately by a different kind of tension. Hazard was going to be okay. The nightmare of losing him, at least, was over. Now came the swirl of other obligations, other fears, and a personal dilemma he could no longer ignore.

He caught Walker’s eye. She looked just as relieved as the rest of them. Despite the exhaustion etched into her face, she radiated a quiet strength. Skull beckoned with a subtle tilt of his head, and she followed him a short distance down the corridor, away from the others.

When they stopped, Skull turned to her. His voice was low and intimate, meant for her ears alone. “We almost lost them,” he began, still breathing heavily from the adrenaline. “I—I don’t want to waste any more time running from what I feel.”

Walker blinked, uncertain, her walls already creeping up. Skull drew a breath and continued, his words tumbling out in a mixture of earnestness and vulnerability, “I can’t do any other type of relationship except me and you together,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I love you. That’s on me. That’s about me. I take full responsibility for that statement, but I’ve learned that being a rock means being stone, and that’s not any way to live.”

He paused, trying to gauge her reaction. Her eyes flickered, widened briefly at his declaration of love, but her expression stayed guarded.

He pushed on, gently but firmly, “I don’t know you well enough to form an argument strong enough to penetrate all those layers you’ve built up over your life to protect yourself from heartache. I wish I knew how to get through to you. But that’s not on me. That’s on you.”

For a moment, the quiet hallway rang with the echo of his confession. Walker’s face was a mixture of tenderness and alarm. She took in his words, then lowered her gaze.

“Cooper…” she said softly, arms instinctively wrapping around herself. “You…you don’t know what you’re asking.”

He moved half a step closer, still giving her space. “I know exactly what I’m asking. I want a future with you.”

Her throat worked around unspoken fears. “I care for you so much,” she whispered, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. “More than I ever intended to. But do you really see a stable life, a permanent relationship, in all this chaos after what we just went through? I don’t know how to keep that going in the kind of world we live in.”

Skull felt his heart twist. He gently touched her forearm, feeling her tremble beneath his fingertips. “I don’t have all the answers. I just know we might not always get a second chance. This time, we did. Hazard and Leigh did. It could’ve gone another way.”

For a long moment, Walker stayed silent, as though struggling to break open the fortress she’d carefully maintained all her life. Finally, she lifted her gaze to meet his. “You’re right, it could’ve gone another way,” she echoed, voice thick with emotion. “And I want you to know that I hear you. But everything in me is screaming to protect what’s left of my heart. I can’t just drop all the barriers I’ve built, not right now.”

Skull nodded, swallowing hard against the tightness in his chest. “I’m not asking you to drop them all overnight,” he said quietly. “I’m just asking you not to shut me out. To let this be…possible.”

Walker gave a small, trembling nod, blinking away the moisture that threatened to spill from her eyes. “I…don’t know how,” she said. “But I won’t turn my back on you, on us, completely. That’s all I can promise for now.”

Skull exhaled, feeling both relief and heartbreak rolled into one. He wanted to sweep her into his arms but sensed she still needed space. Instead, he placed a hand gently against her cheek, brushing away a single tear with his thumb.

“Then that’s a start,” he said, voice hushed.

Behind them, the rest of the team began to move down the hall, following the doctor’s directions to Hazard’s room. The moment hung between them, fragile but real. As they fell back into stride with the others, anxious to see their friend awake and breathing, Skull felt a small spark of hope flicker to life in his chest.

It wasn’t the grand, definitive solution he’d longed for, but it was an opening, one that just might lead to something deeper if they could both learn to let each other in. And for now, with Hazard safe and their family intact, that hope was enough to keep Skull moving forward.

And he did, enduring through the flight that brought them all home, his heart heavy but hopeful that Walker would find him when she sorted herself out.

The moment his plane touched down, he was on his way to the hospital. His headlong flight there brought him to his father’s floor, the hum of fluorescent lights pressing against his shoulders like a gentle weight.

He scanned the waiting area, searching for his mother among the small huddles of people dressed in mismatched patterns of hope and worry. When he spotted her, she was seated at the far side of the room, arms folded tightly in her lap, eyes darting nervously toward the hallway that led back to the ICU. Despite the tense set of her shoulders, her face brightened when she saw him.

He crossed the room and embraced her gently, mindful of the hours of stress that had worn her down. “Hey, Mom,” he murmured, and she clutched his arms like a lifeline. For a moment, they stood there in a cocoon of relief and exhaustion. He didn’t need to say much. The lines on her face told him everything he needed to know.

A voice at their backs caught their attention. The doctor, wearing slightly wrinkled scrubs and a careful smile, approached them. “Mrs. Sullivan? I have some good news.” His words felt almost too soft for the sterile corridor.

They followed him down the hall, past rows of drawn curtains and rhythmic beeping, each step ringing out like a small countdown. The doctor explained how Skull’s father had come off the ventilator just that morning and was stabilizing rapidly, almost miraculously so, given how sick he had been only days before. Skull’s mother squeezed his hand, her relief radiating in waves. The weight that Skull had been carrying in his chest for days started to lift, replaced by an uncertain, fragile hope.

The doctor stopped in front of a glass-paneled door. “He’s out of the woods,” he said, his voice warm with a professional sense of optimism. “You can see him but remember to keep it calm. He’s still quite weak.”

Skull swallowed hard, nodded, and took a moment to brace himself. He pushed open the door and was immediately met by a soft chorus of mechanical hisses and muted alarms. The bed sat in the center of the room, and on it lay his father, pale, thinner than Skull remembered, but with eyes that no longer looked so clouded.

For a moment, Skull couldn’t move. He had imagined this reunion a hundred times, and every version ended in a flood of words he didn’t know how to say. Finally, he drew closer, heart thudding in his ears. His father turned his head weakly, recognition stirring in his gaze.

Skull stood beside the bed, gently resting a hand on the thin sheet that covered his father’s forearm. At first, he couldn’t speak. Then the words came rushing out, quiet but certain. “Dad, I—I love you,” he said, his voice catching. “You have no idea how much you’ve shaped my life. How much of who I am is because of you.”

His father’s lips curved into a slight smile, eyes glistening. “I love you, too, son. I’m so glad to see you.” At his dad’s hoarse words, Skull’s eyes stung, and he let the tears come. The machines’ steady beeps formed a comforting, reassuring chorus in the background.

He felt his mother’s presence at his shoulder, wiping at her eyes as he continued. “I finally understand what it means to be a rock. You know, like you always told me. To stand firm when everything else is shaking. You were that rock for me. And now I get it.”

His father’s breath was shallow but purposeful. For the first time in days, there was color returning to those sunken cheeks. He managed to lift a trembling hand, and Skull enclosed it gently in both of his.

In the quiet aftermath of the doctor’s reassuring words, Skull felt something shift deep within him. As he held his father’s fragile hand, he recalled all the times his dad had been that steadfast rock, an unyielding pillar who had silently weathered every storm. For years, he had looked to his father as the embodiment of strength, the constant in a life often rocked by uncertainty. Now, amid the soft beeping of machines and the gentle hum of hospital air, Skull realized that being a rock was not merely about immobility or stoicism, it was about embracing every facet of one’s inner power.

In that transformative moment, his thoughts drifted to Walker, sure that she wasn’t out of his life. The look in her eyes when they’d parted had been tense, reluctant, her touch desperate and her kiss fierce.

Her influence had been a catalyst for change, urging him to peel away layers of guarded defiance and discover a more nuanced strength. With her, he had learned that vulnerability did not diminish his power, rather, it enriched it. Walker had challenged him to confront his deepest fears and to acknowledge that true resilience was forged through both the firmness of his resolve and the softness of his compassion. He could only hope he’d had the same effect on her.

The room seemed to hold its breath, letting the moment belong solely to father and son. Outside, the world went on with its bustle of visitors, overhead pages, and the hustle of nurses, but here, in the quiet circle around the hospital bed, Skull and his father found their own space, one filled with deep love, shared history, and renewed hope for whatever tomorrow would bring.

Walker stepped through the grand oak doors of the church, her movements fluid, seamless, a Shadowguard in every sense, yet somehow, no longer a shadow. The years of slipping between roles, disguising herself as whoever the mission required, had made her believe she was a collection of masks rather than a whole person. But Skull had shattered that illusion, peeling her back layer by layer until she could no longer hide from herself.

Six months. That was how long it had been since she’d last seen him, since the truth had been laid bare between them with a precision even she, with all her investigative skills, hadn’t seen coming. She had thought knowledge was her refuge—logic, facts, distance—but Skull had made her see what lay beneath. That she was more than the roles she played, more than just the chameleon. He’d seen her, and in doing so, forced her to see herself. She was only sorry that it had taken her so long, but fear was a powerful thing, facing her demons was just as powerful.

Her lips curved, the expression slow, deliberate, as she stopped in front of him. “I told you I was going to dance at their wedding.”

Skull stood there, dark eyes sweeping over her, his face as unreadable as ever except for his eyes. They had never been able to lie to her. They were filled with something deep, something raw. He had known she would come. He had hoped.

Bones sat at his side, an odd sight in a church, and yet, somehow, it made sense. Walker let her gaze flick to the dog, then back to Skull, her smile softening. “Did you convince them he was emotional support, or did you just dare them to tell you no?”

Skull exhaled a short breath, somewhere between amusement and restraint, but she saw it, the warmth in his eyes, the flicker of something deep and poignant and real.

She had spent a lifetime running. Hiding. Pretending. But there was no act to fall into now. No mask left to wear.

“Is dancing the only reason you’re here?” His voice was steady, but she caught the slight shift in his stance, the way his breath hitched, just barely.

“No, it’s not the only reason I’m here. That’s just a celebration of Leigh and Hazard,” she said softly, her voice steady in a way it had never been before. “I’m really here because I love you. And I’m done pretending I don’t.”

For the first time in her life, she wasn’t slipping into a role. She was stepping into herself.

Walker took a breath, steady, deep. The kind of breath a woman takes when she knows she’s standing at the edge of something that will change her forever. She had spent years mastering the art of control, of knowing every angle before stepping into a room, of slipping between personas like water through fingers, of never letting herself become too much of anything because too much meant vulnerability. Too much meant truth.

But Skull had always seen through the games. Through the personas. Through the layers of defense she had built, one carefully constructed identity at a time. He had peeled them away, piece by piece, not with force, but with patience. With knowing. With an understanding so absolute that it had scared her more than any mission ever had.

“I’m here because you see me. You want me. You love me,” she said, her voice soft, but steady in a way it never had been before. No performance, no act. Just truth. “And I see you. I want you…only you.”

Skull stood there, unmoving, but she saw it, the tightening of his jaw, the way his hands flexed at his sides like he was holding himself back from reaching for her. His eyes, dark and fathomless, had always been a weapon of their own. But right now, they weren’t guarded. They weren’t locked down. They were burning.

“I love you,” she said again because it felt so good, so right, so beautiful, letting the words settle between them, irrevocable. It felt like exhaling after years of holding her breath. Like stepping into the light after a lifetime in the shadows. “You told me that’s on me, so…I’m taking responsibility for once.” Tears gathered in her eyes, but she didn’t look away. Skull’s expression softened in an instant, and he moved toward her. The soft light, diffused all around them from the stained-glass windows bathing them in rainbow colors. He was the end of her rainbow, the pot of gold. He was a safe haven and always would be. He gathered her hands gently in his.

“I love you, still,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “I never stopped.” They stood in silence for a moment, letting the weight of their confessions settle. In that quiet space, Walker could finally see a future that wasn’t defined by her solitary habits. The type of future that they could carve out when both partners committed to balancing autonomy and connection.

For so long, she had thought love was something for people who were whole, people who didn’t have to break themselves into a thousand pieces just to make sense of the world.

But Skull had proven her wrong.

She saw the way his throat bobbed, the way his fingers twitched, like he was fighting every instinct to pull her in. He was always the controlled one, the still one, but in this moment, he was undone. Just as undone as she was.

Bones let out a quiet huff beside them, shifting his weight like he could sense the shift in the air. The moment stretched, heavy with unspoken things, but for the first time, she wasn’t afraid of them.

Because she wasn’t hiding anymore.

Walker watched as the words settled over Skull, sinking into him like a blow he hadn’t braced for. She had expected him to hold the line, to keep his distance, to maintain that impenetrable control he wielded like armor. But for the first time since she’d met him, he didn’t.

His breath shuddered out of him, like she had knocked something loose inside his chest, and then he was moving.

One step.

Another.

Then his arms were around her, pulling her in so tightly it stole her breath. Walker closed her eyes, burying herself in the heat of him, in the scent of steel and something distinctly Skull. She hadn’t realized just how much she had missed this, missed him, until now. Until she was pressed against him, his hands gripping her like he was afraid she might disappear again.

And damn, she had been so stupid to think she could live without this.

Without him.

She had spent six long months convincing herself that walking away had been the right thing. That she could keep her distance, compartmentalize, just like she had done her whole life. But standing here, with Skull’s heart thundering beneath her palm, she knew the truth.

She had been miserable without him.

Her love for him wasn’t just deep, it had hit bedrock, solid and unshakable like the enlightened rock he was. He was in her bones, in every breath, in every shadow she had ever slipped through. And she wasn’t running anymore.

She curled her fingers into the back of his shirt, holding onto him just as fiercely as he held onto her. He tilted his head down, his forehead pressing against hers, their breaths mingling in the space between them. His hands flexed at her waist like he was relearning the shape of her, memorizing every inch.

“I missed you,” she whispered, the words rasping out, raw and unguarded. “More than I ever thought possible.”

Skull swallowed hard, his grip tightening. “You think I didn’t?” His voice was rough, filled with something sharp-edged and deep. “You think I haven’t felt you like a phantom every damn day since you left?”

She exhaled a shaky breath, her heart slamming against her ribs. “Then let’s not do that again.”

Something in him broke at that, a sound escaping him that was almost a laugh, almost a breath of relief, but too filled with emotion to be either. His hand came up, tracing along her jaw, his thumb brushing against her lips like he was trying to convince himself this was real. That she was here.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t careful. It was six months of distance, of longing, of missed chances crashing together all at once. His lips claimed hers with a desperate kind of certainty, like he was making up for every second they had lost. And she met him with the same fire, the same resolve, her fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer, as if she could fuse herself to him and never let go.

The world around them blurred. The church, the hushed murmur of guests waiting for the ceremony, even Bones shifting at their feet all faded. Because this moment was everything.

And as she kissed him, she made a silent vow.

She would shift her life to fit with his. She would make this work, make them work, because there was no other choice.

Because a life without Cooper “Skull” Sullivan, her Skully?

Wasn’t a life at all.