Decay and subway dust pressed close, a second skin. Jared shuffled through the white halls, each step a jolt, every breath a knife edge where the ogre’s staff had struck. The world receded, distant, every surface a threat to his bruised flesh.

He found the right door, marked only with a number, and leaned his forehead against the cool metal. Just a check-up. In and out. He repeated the lie to himself, knowing it was futile the moment the door hissed open.

Dr. Adrian Korr stood with his back to the entrance, his tall frame silhouetted against a wall of glowing diagnostic screens. The stark light picked out the silver streaking his black hair. He didn’t turn, his focus absolute on the data streaming before him. “I already read the preliminary field report, Jared. Get in a gown and on the table.”

The command, the calm weight of that voice, sent a shiver through him. No point in hiding behind the screen, moving hurt too much. He stripped, clothes falling into the chair, and slid the gown over his skin. The med-table sighed beneath him. He fixed his gaze on the ceiling, counting holes, refusing to look at the man who moved around him, silent and precise.

Adrian’s presence pressed in, shifting the air. Calm, focused, sanctuary, and cage. His hands, clinical, impossibly gentle. Warm fingers traced the bruises, light, searching.

“Three cracked, maybe four,” Adrian murmured, more to himself than to Jared. His other hand rested on Jared’s shoulder, a steadying weight. “You’re lucky it wasn’t your spine. Again.”

Jared flinched, and not from the pain. That voice. It held no judgment, only a weary, familiar concern that cut deeper than any accusation. “Fucking ogre hit like a truck.”

“I’m sure.” Adrian’s fingers moved to Jared’s abdomen, pressing gently. “You still favor the left side. Old injury from the Quarry incident still bothering you?”

He remembers. Of course. Every wound, every mission, every late-night argument, every other thing. The memory burned, a different heat rising under Jared’s skin. He tried to move, to pull away, but the table and Adrian’s hands kept him there.

Adrian’s touch slid to his hip, searching for injuries. Head bent, eyes on his work, but the air thickened, heavy with years of silence. The room shrank. The machinery’s hum faded, distant, drowned by the pulse in Jared’s ears.

Then it came. A traitorous, undeniable tightening in his groin. Blood rushing, heedless of pain.

No. Not now. Not here.

He shut his eyes, silent plea for the gown to hide him. But Adrian missed nothing. Hands stilled. Pressure gone. Only the slow, deliberate lift of Adrian’s gaze.

Jared opened his eyes. Adrian stared at the raised fabric, unreadable. The mask gone, something darker in its place. Pink touched his ears. Time stretched, nothing but Jared’s ragged breath filling the space.

Finally, Adrian’s eyes flicked up to meet his. Those deep brown eyes, usually so guarded, now held a knowing, almost amused glint. A single, thick black eyebrow arched.

“I see the rest of you is… undamaged,” Adrian said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the table and straight into Jared’s bones.

Heat flooded his face. He tried to speak, to deny, to excuse, but nothing came. Exposed. Caught in the one way he could never defend against.

Adrian didn’t look away. He slowly straightened up to his full, imposing height, looking down at Jared on the table. The ghost of a smile played on his lips. “My shift ends in twenty minutes.”

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning.

His heart hammered against broken ribs. Bad idea. The worst. “Adrian… we can’t. It’s… It’s too complicated.”

The smile on Adrian’s face became a little more real, a little more tender. He took a half-step closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “It’s only complicated because you insist on making it complicated, Jared.”

He leaned in, slow, giving Jared every chance to turn away. Jared did not move. Not trapped by hands, but by gravity, by the man before him. Antiseptic and Adrian’s soap; safety, sleepless nights, another life.

Adrian’s lips were a breath away from his. “Just say yes,” he murmured, the words a soft vibration against Jared’s skin.

And then he closed the final, infinitesimal distance.

The kiss was slow. Deliberate. Not a claim, but a question. Familiar, painfully so. Warmth, pressure, the scratch of a goatee. Past and present colliding. For a moment, nothing complicated. Only this.

His hands unclenched. Fingers uncurled.

The kiss broke, a soft sound. Jared’s eyes opened, met Adrian’s. For a heartbeat, the world balanced, perfect and dangerous. Then the med-bay, the pain, the years crashed back. He turned away, sharp with pain and panic.

“I can’t,” he breathed, words raw. “Adrian, we… we can’t. It’s too complicated.” He stared at the white wall, at a tiny scuff, anything but the man he’d just pushed away.

A beat of silence, heavy and thick. Then, Adrian let out a slow, controlled exhale. “Of course.” His voice was back to its professional, even tone, the brief warmth utterly extinguished. “I apologize, Jared. That was unprofessional. I overstepped.”

The table shifted as Adrian stepped back. Cold, sanitized air stretched between them, a chasm. The click of a datapad, fingers tapping. The doctor returned.

“The initial scan confirms three non-displaced fractures on the right side, ribs five through seven,” Adrian stated, his voice devoid of any inflection beyond clinical fact. “And there are two on the left side, ribs five and six. The bruising is extensive but superficial. I’m prescribing a bone-knitter regimen.”

Jared just nodded, his jaw clenched tight.

“How have you been feeling?” Adrian asked, his gaze fixed on the datapad. “Generally. Not just the ribs.”

“Fine.” The lie was automatic, brittle.

Adrian’s eyes flicked up from the screen, pinning him in place. “Minimal and evasive. Some things don’t change.” He didn’t sound angry, just… tired. “Try again, Jared. How are you really feeling?”

The question hit harder than the ogre’s staff. Jared swallowed, pain flaring. He wanted to deflect, joke, anything but the truth. But Adrian’s silence pressed in, patient, demanding. He always made the room a confessional.

“Strange,” Jared finally admitted, the word quiet. “After this one. It… it got into my head.”

Adrian set the datapad aside, leaned against the counter, arms crossed. Silent. Waiting.

“Not just an ogre. Mind Flayer too. Weak, but the psychic attacks...” His voice barely a whisper. “It left something. A residue. A scent in my head. I don’t feel right. My sense of space is off. Reflexes dulled. Like looking through dirty glass.”

Adrian listened, grim. He uncrossed his arms, moved closer, only the doctor now. Fingers tilted Jared’s chin, penlight in his eyes. The touch was impersonal, but Jared’s skin burned where it landed.

“Psychic intrusion from a Mind Flayer is nothing to dismiss,” Adrian said, his voice low and serious. “Even a minor one. It can fray the edges of perception. Coupled with physical trauma…” He shook his head, a faint frown creasing his brow. “I’m putting you on mandatory medical leave. Two weeks, minimum.”

“What? Adrian, no, I have the case files...”

“Which will be there in two weeks,” Adrian interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. It was the voice of the senior physician, the head of the department, not the former partner or the almost-lover. “Your body needs to heal. Your mind needs to rest. That’s an order, Agent Blake.”

The title was a wall. Frustration surged, but beneath it, relief. He was so tired.

“You will report to me for check-ups every forty-eight hours. I need to monitor both the bone density and your neuro-signs for any degradation or… lingering presence.” Adrian’s eyes held his for a moment, and the professional mask slipped just enough for genuine concern to show through. “This isn’t a suggestion, Jared.”

Jared stared at his hands, knuckles white on the thin gown. He nodded. “Understood.”

“Good.” Adrian turned to a dispenser, his back to Jared once more. He pulled out a vial of milky-white liquid, the bone-knitter serum, and loaded it into a hypospray. The hiss of the pressurizing mechanism was loud in the quiet room.

He turned and approached. “This will feel cold.” The hypo pressed to Jared’s side. A sharp pinch, then cold spreading deep. Jared shivered. Again, on the other side.

Adrian’s hand lingered on his shoulder, steadying. Warmth through the gown, sharp against the cold in Jared’s veins.

He’s always taken care of you. Even when you make it impossible.

Jared risked a glance upward. Adrian was looking down at him, his dark eyes unreadable, but the air between them crackled with everything left unsaid. The memory of the kiss, the feel of his beard, the low rumble of his voice… it all hung there, a promise and a threat.

Adrian cleared his throat and stepped back, the moment broken. “You’re cleared to go. Your quarters. Not the gym, not the archives. Rest, Jared.”

Jared slid off the table, bare feet on cold tile. He kept his eyes down, gathering his gear. Adrian’s gaze followed, a weight tracking every clumsy movement as he dressed.

He didn’t look back as he shuffled toward the door. But just as the door hissed open, Adrian’s voice stopped him, softer now, stripped of its professional authority.

“The offer still stands, you know. Anytime.”