Fluorescent lights hummed above Jared’s head. Insects, trapped behind glass, beating wings. The sound pressed into his skull, drilling against the pulse that never left him. Something shifted. Not a memory. Only the outline of one. Shadows flickered at the edge of thought. The noise waited, always. If he listened, it would grow teeth. Step into the light and become real.

Jared balanced on the table’s edge. Boots dangling. Coat folded, each movement careful, precise. The air stung of antiseptic, but beneath it, the ghost of fish clung. Adrian’s lunch, abandoned, cooling. This place was made for monsters. It was the human things that unsettled him. Coffee cup, rim stained, threatening to fall. Paperwork scattered, uncertain. Chopsticks resting across a box, waiting for hands that would not return.

Adrian moved the scanner over Jared’s side. The display flickered, heat and bone mapped in shifting color. Adrian had always been here. Before Jared. Gray threaded his hair now, lines carved deep at the corners of his eyes. Glasses low on his nose, catching the monitor’s glow. Two pale moons in the sterile dark.

Jared watched him work. Years stretched between them. He’d met Adrian twenty-three years ago, just after he’d become attuned to the Dark. Partners for eight years. Complicated. He missed that complication. Especially now.

“You’re healing well,” Adrian said, his voice even, edged with a low, thoughtful timbre. “No fractures, no internal tears, no residual cellular breakdown.”

Jared almost smiled. Almost. The ghost of it faded before it reached his mouth. The tunnels. The taste of ash and metal. The whisper that had followed him up from the dark. Those memories pressed in, heavier than Adrian’s efforts to push back the darkness.

“Department wants you to sign off that I’m fit for duty,” he said. “You gonna do that, or do I fake a cough and call it a night?”

Adrian gave him a look. The kind that had once kept Jared in check.

“You’re clear for duty,” Adrian said at last. “Physically. But that’s not what I’m worried about.”

Jared rolled his shoulder, feeling the faint tremor under the skin, static crawling just beneath the nerves. “You mean the Dark.” 

“Yes, I mean the Dark.” Adrian set the scanner down a little harder than he meant to. “Every test comes back normal. Every scan says you’re fine. But we both know that’s not true. The problem isn’t in your blood, Jared. It’s in whatever that thing touched when it got inside you.”

Jared said nothing. No point. He’d tried before. The Dark wasn’t a thing. Not really. More a pulse. Hunger, living in the space between heartbeats. Sometimes it slept. Sometimes it watched. Sometimes, when the world screamed, it slipped through him. Smoke finding every crack.

Adrian crossed his arms. “You were discharged three weeks ago. No seizures, no blackouts, no memory loss. But your logs show irregular energy spikes during training. You’re using it.”

“I’m controlling it.” Jared avoided his eyes. Adrian was wrong, but the truth would be worse. He hadn’t been using the Dark. The energy spikes were just fluctuations. Sometimes they happened in his sleep.

Adrian’s brow arched. “You think you are.”

Jared looked at his hands. Scarred. Steady. Not his. Sometimes he expected them to be long, thin, pale. Sometimes he wondered if these short, blunt fingers belonged to someone else.

“You make it sound like I have a choice. Sometimes it’s not me pulling the trigger, Adrian. Sometimes it just… comes out.” Jared flinched. He was saying too much.

Adrian’s expression softened. “That’s exactly what worries me.”

The hum of the lights thickened. Jared felt it in his teeth, an itch crawling beneath his skin. The Dark shifted. The world snapped into focus. Alcohol on Adrian’s hands. The black tea. He pressed it down. Forced his fists to unclench. Counted his breaths.

The scans were finished.

Jared rubbed at his temple. “You think I’m losing control.”

“I think you’re at risk,” Adrian said, quieter now. “Exposure like yours, there’s no precedent. We don't know anything about psychic attacks. And we know very little about the well of Dark inside you, let alone how those two things could interact. If the Dark’s evolving through you, we need to know. And if you’re losing control, the Department—”

“Will throw me in a jar in the basement,” Jared finished. “Yeah. I’ve read the manual.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. “That’s not what I want.”

“Doesn’t matter what you want.” Jared stared up at the ceiling. Sighed. “It’s what’s necessary.”

“Jared.” Adrian's voice dropped. The doctor’s armor slipped. There was something warmer beneath, something human. “I’ve seen what this job does to people. Even without the Dark. I don’t want to watch it with you.”

Jared met his eyes. Almost said it. He almost gave Adrian permission to walk away, but he couldn’t bear to do this without him. He hated himself for being so selfish.

He wanted to tell Adrian everything. Sometimes he could taste other people’s thoughts. Sometimes he saw the Dark humming in the walls. At night, something laughed in his pulse. But if he spoke it, it would become real. And if it was real, the Department would take him apart to see what was inside. He didn’t want to be taken out of action. It was all he had.

Instead, he said, “I’m still me, Adrian.”

“Are you?” Adrian asked softly.

The question cut. Jared turned to the window. Not real. Just a projection. City lights and rain painted on glass. He didn’t need to touch it to know it was fake. Most things here were.

He heard his voice before he realized he was speaking. “Sometimes I wonder if the Dark’s not inside me at all. What if I’m inside it?”

Adrian’s face tightened. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s what it feels like. Like it’s watching through me. Testing me. Waiting for me to crack.”

“Jared.” Adrian stepped closer, his hand brushing Jared’s shoulder. “You’re not insane.”

“Maybe not yet," Jared whispered.

“Then stop talking like you are," Adrian said.

Jared looked up at him. “You don’t hear it. You don’t feel it whisper every time the lights flicker. It’s like standing next to a god that forgot it died.”

Adrian’s hand lingered. Just a second too long before it pulled away. His voice softened almost to a murmur. “You need rest,” he said. “And time away from the field.”

“The Department says otherwise.”

“I don’t care what they say. You keep using that power, and it’ll hollow you out. Maybe not today. But it will.”

Jared almost told him. The hollow was all that was left. He stayed silent. Eyes down. Adrian’s grey eyes unsettled him. He caught a flicker there, something unreadable. That was always how it went.

After a long pause: “That’s how it always goes. In the end, all of us Tuners end up becoming Dark Anchors, right?” Jared asked, looking at the wall.

Adrian turned his back. Sighed. It wasn’t like him to break eye contact. Jared stared at his back, trying to imagine what he was thinking.

“Yeah,” Adrian answered. “Every Tuner eventually loses themselves to the Dark and becomes a Dark Anchor.”

“Doesn’t matter if I use the Dark or deny it. There’s no way to stop it. In the end, I lose. It wins. That’s how this goes. We both know that.” Jared’s voice came out harsher than he meant.

“But you can choose who you are in the meantime,” Adrian whispered.

Jared sighed, struggling to figure out what else he should say. He was rescued by a sharp rap at the door, quick, metallic.

Adrian ran a hand over his face. “We’re closed.”

The door hissed open. A goblin in a Department uniform stood there, its brass insignia too large for its narrow chest. The creature’s pale green skin shone under the harsh light; its eyes wet marbles.

“Agent Blake,” it rasped. “Supervisor Kate requests immediate contact. Priority one.”

Adrian turned, irritation flashing across his face. “It’s nearly midnight.”

The goblin shrugged, shoulders rising like brittle sticks. “Supervisor says the Rifts don’t keep office hours.”

Jared slid off the table, grabbing his coat. “She’s not wrong.”

Adrian stepped toward him and put his hand on Jared's arm. “You’re not cleared for field work yet.”

“I’m cleared enough,” Jared said. “You said so yourself.”

They stared at each other a moment before Jared added, "Sign the paperwork."

“That was before...”

But Jared was already gone, the door hissing shut behind him.

Adrian stood in the fading hum of the lights. The scent of cloves lingered. He stared at the empty doorway a moment too long. The echo of Jared’s presence refused to leave.

For reasons he didn’t care to name, that thought unsettled him more than the Dark ever had.