"Please," she whispers. "Please come back to me."
Something breaks inside me at the sound of her voice. The desperation. The fear. I've put that there. Me and my fucking brand. Me and my loyalty to the outlaw family I need and love.
Me and my demons.
I focus everything I have on moving. Just a finger. Just one fucking finger to tell her I'm here. I'm listening. I'm coming back.
And somehow, across whatever divide separates my floating consciousness from that broken body, I feel my fingers twitch against hers.
Savannah gasps. "He moved! His hand moved!"
The nurse closest to her looks skeptical but checks the monitors. "Heart rate's increasing."
I push harder, focusing on turning my head toward Savannah's voice. The effort feels like trying to move a mountain with my bare hands, but slowly, my head shifts on the pillow.
"Doctor!" the nurse calls. "We've got increased brain activity."
Savannah's crying harder now, but different tears. Hope tears. "Legion? Can you hear me?"
I try to open my eyes, but that's still beyond me. Everything hurts now. The floating sensation is gone, replaced by fire in my veins and a crushing pressure in my chest. But I keep fighting. Keep pushing back toward her.
I made a promise. On the backside of twenty-three. On the near side too.
I promised Mercy I'd never leave again.
I promised Savannah, I'd get it right this time.
I even promised myself, seventeen years ago in that silo, that I'd become worthy of her. That was before the demons. BeforeBadlands. Before prison, and silence, and all the blood on my hands.
I'm not worthy. Never have been. But I'm still here. Still fighting. And that has to count for something.
They're moving me now, transferring my body to a gurney. The ceiling tiles slide past overhead as they wheel me out of the room. Diesel's frowning face appears above me, his eyes unreadable as I pass.
I slip back into darkness, but this time, it's different.
This time, I'm not running from it.
This time I'm comin' back.
