Quiet, except for the drone of equipment and the hiss of vents. Shadows extended across the floor, the lights subdued for the night. Adrian hunched over the console, eyes flicking over Jared’s vitals. The memory of the sewer gripped him, heavy and damp. Yet the numbers revealed another story: Jared, somehow, had survived. Intact, if not untouched.
Movement at the edge of vision. Adrian turned, breath paused. Jared crouched on the table’s edge, balanced on the tips of his toes, arms draped over his thighs. Perfect stillness. Only the slow rise and fall of his chest, bare skin catching the low light. Eyes fixed on something distant, unmoving.
Adrian watched, frowning. The quiet control in Jared’s body, the poise: unnatural, almost ancient. Calmness that did not belong to him alone. This was something he had never seen him do before. Adrian’s voice, finally, broke the hush.
“Jared… come on, lie down on the table.”
The words echoed softly. Jared blinked, slow, then unfolded himself, spine uncoiling, body stretching out flat on the table. Light slid over his skin, catching the cuts along his shoulder and arm: marks left by claws. Adrian breathed in, steadying, and set the injectors to work. Soft whirring, the promise of healing.
“Relax. These will close everything up. We’ll make sure the deeper cuts heal completely, stay closed, and don’t scar.”
Jared stared at the ceiling, eyes far away. Adrian moved the injectors along the wounds, nanobots glimmering within the dimness, knitting flesh. His hands worked, practiced, but his gaze kept returning to Jared’s face: the trace of pain, the tightening jaw, the small wince as the machines touched deeper hurt.
A sound, soft at first, crept into the room. Not the machines. A song, light and sorrowful, flowing through the air. Adrian stilled, listening.
“You’re humming,” Adrian whispered, leaning a little closer.
Jared’s eyes flicked briefly toward him, lips curved faintly. “I… am.” The words were careful, deliberate.
“What is that?” Adrian asked, curious despite himself. “It’s beautiful.”
Jared’s lips moved again, words unfamiliar, lilting and precise. Adrian didn’t recognize the language, and he leaned forward, frowning. “I don’t know that I understand that one. What did you just say?”
Jared paused mid-note, thought folding into the shadows of his gaze. A moment passed. Then, carefully, in clear English: “River’s Lament.”
Adrian blinked. “River’s Lament?” he repeated. “Where did you learn that?”
Jared’s eyes drifted, distant. “I attended the royal court once. There was a bard. He would…” He trailed off, the look on his face tightening as though he realized something mid-thought. He corrected himself softly, almost to no one. “No. That isn’t mine. That's one of Aelith’s memories.”
Adrian’s heart tensed slightly. He nodded, a soft confirmation. “I see.” He returned to scanning, moving the handheld device along Jared’s arms, checking vitals, scanning for residual strain, observing skin tension, and monitoring for any uncommon energy readings.
The humming continued, thin and steady, flowing through the machine noise. It changed Jared. His posture lengthened, fingers moving with a strange grace, almost not his own. Small things, but Adrian saw them: another life, folding itself into Jared’s body.
“Vitals are stable,” Adrian said at last, stepping back from the scanner. He looked over the readings with a subtle contentment, though his eyes stayed wary. “No serious injuries. Minor contusions, some residual strain from muscle exertion, but nothing catastrophic. You’ve been very lucky.”
Jared’s lips twitched into a delicate smile. “Lucky or guided,” he spoke quietly, almost as though speaking to the memory itself.
Adrian frowned slightly but didn’t press. “Regardless,” he said, approaching gently, “I’m putting you on medical leave. Two weeks minimum. No fieldwork. You need rest, repair, and time for your body and mind to stabilize.”
Jared’s gaze remained fixed on the ceiling. “Two weeks?”
“Yes,” Adrian replied, firm but gentle. “We’ve seen what the Dark can do. You need to be safe, even if you feel fine.”
Jared turned his head slightly toward him, relaxing. “Will you stay at my apartment? Monitor me?”
Adrian blinked, caught off guard by the silent vulnerability in that modest request. “I can. If that’s what you want.”
Jared’s lips curved into a small, impish smirk. “I do. I want you to move in.”
Adrian hesitated, then let a gentle laugh escape. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Jared’s forehead. “I can do that,” he uttered softly, “but on one condition: I clean everything from top to bottom first. And we need to find a place for you to conduct research. A proper lab space.”
Jared tilted his head, frowning faintly. “I can’t afford that.”
Adrian’s lips quirked. “We can use the money I’ve been spending on my apartment rent. That will cover it.”
Jared gave a slow nod, eyes glinting with gratitude. “Alright. I’ll need to go looking for research space. Is it all right if I do that while on medical leave?”
“Should be fine,” Adrian said quietly, letting his hand brush against Jared’s as a subtle reassurance.
The room slipped into quiet for a moment, filled only with the gentle drone of the machines and the remaining resonance of Jared’s song. Then, as he straightened and made his way toward the door, Jared paused. He turned, a lighthearted twinkle in his eyes, and raised his hand in a half-wave. A small, teasing giggle escaped him as he blew a kiss toward Adrian.
Adrian watched, a soft, private smile appearing as he shook his head. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, even as his heart was full. Adrian wondered how much of that woman had threaded herself into Jared and if it was a permanent part of him now.
Jared left the clinic, the lingering sounds of his humming remaining softly in the room. Adrian exhaled slowly, fingers clenching briefly around the edge of the console before letting them fall.
He let himself notice the changes. The way Aelith’s memories merged with Jared: the movement, the melody, the straightening of his body, the courtly grace in his balance. Not a shadow, not a wound. A layering. Another life, quietly making a home inside him.
But Jared remained. The man who crawled from the sewer was bruised yet intact. The one who trusted in Adrian’s presence, strength, and vulnerability, intertwined. Enough to leave anyone watching both stunned and aching.
Adrian returned to the console, reviewing vitals one last time. Everything stable. Heart rate normal, respiration steady, no unexpected spikes in energy readings. The nanobot injectors had done their work well. He allowed himself a small measure of relief.
Silence again, interrupted solely by the hum of machines. Adrian leaned back, arms folded. He pictured Jared at home, humming, moving through the rooms with that strange, borrowed grace.
The quiet pressed in, heavy, almost sacred. Adrian knew the cost, what it meant to watch someone you loved walk the edge of the unknown. But he also knew the privilege. To be trusted. To be needed. To stand beside the man who carried so much, who allowed so much pour through him.
Night extended on. Adrian sat within the quiet, monitors glowing over the empty table where Jared had perched. He imagined the ghost of a song lingering. For now, he would wait. He would watch. Jared, impossibly, was alive. Whole.
For the moment, that was enough.
