2. Rebuilding #3
The phantom weight of his survivor's guilt didn't vanish, but for a fleeting second, it cracked. The memory was there. He just had to find a way to coax it out of hiding.
Looking over at Grey, the corners of Garrett’s eyes crinkled. "The pig definitely cheated," he murmured.
Grey's laughter rang out once again. Garrett was so swept up in the sound and the feeling of being with his brother that he didn’t even flinch when Grey slapped his sore shoulder.
None of that mattered. For the first time in an eternity, the silence between them didn't feel heavy with tragedy. It felt alive with hope, and so did Garrett.
Sydney found Ginnie in the kitchen, the quiet hum of the house a stark contrast to the heavy thoughts looping through her own mind.
She waited until the other woman finished pouring a glass of water and had squeezed the lemon slices before stepping forward, her hands twisting nervously in the hem of her shirt.
"Ginnie?" Sydney asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you have a minute? I need your opinion on something."
Turning, Ginnie’s soft brown eyes flashed with recognition, and Sydney heard her think, "My girl is stressed."
Setting the glass on the table and taking a seat, she offered a warm, encouraging smile. "Of course, sweetheart. Sit down. Tell me what’s on your mind."
Taking a shallow breath, Sydney knew she couldn’t sit still, so she leaned her hip against the counter. "It's about Garrett. Last night... he was up again in the middle of the night. I woke up, and he was just gone. I…”
She paused, wondering if she was making the right decision. Then she powered on, “I couldn't find him for a long while."
She swallowed hard, the memory of her racing heart still fresh. "I didn’t bother him when he came back to bed, but when he got up this morning, his muscles were so tight. He was so sore, Ginnie. I had to massage some huge knots out of his muscles.”
Letting out the breath she’d been holding, she paced to the sink, turned and went on, “He's also having such a hard time with his memory. He remembers emotional flashes, but the actual details are just... gone."
Looking up, she knew her expression was pleading for an answer, but she couldn’t wipe it away. She only prayed that Ginnie’s response wasn’t as bad as anything she had imagined. "Is this normal?"
Ginnie’s expression softened even more. The Necromancer radiated a calm, maternal warmth that instantly cut through Sydney's rising panic.
Getting out of her chair, Ginnie stepped close and placed a comforting hand over Sydney's trembling fingers where they lay on the counter.
“Oh, honey, don’t worry. It is completely normal.
" Her voice was steady and deeply reassuring.
"Every single survivor heals differently, especially a Dragon Guardsman who carries the weight that Garrett has to.
His body is finally in a safe place, which means it's finally allowed to process the exhaustion it's been hiding.
Those sore muscles? That's his body rebuilding itself, not breaking down. "
She gave Sydney's hand a gentle, affectionate squeeze.
"And his mind is doing the exact same thing.
It's protecting him by letting the memories trickle back in pieces rather than as a flood that overwhelms and confuses him.
The fact that he's feeling the emotions, the laughter, the warmth, means the real Garrett is still in there, piecing himself back together.
You're doing a wonderful job, Sydney. He is safe and healing.
I promise you that you are doing everything right. "
A breath Sydney hadn't realized she’d been holding rushed past her lips.
Looking into Ginnie's confident, peaceful eyes, the tight knot of anxiety in her chest completely unraveled.
For the first time in days, she could truly breathe, fully believing that against all odds, Garrett was going to be entirely okay.
Late afternoon sunlight slanted across the bedroom floor, casting long, peaceful shadows. The day with Grey had been great. The pieces of his life were truly falling into place. He just needed to get ready for dinner before Ginnie skinned him alive for being late.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, he shaved, brushed his teeth, and washed his hands. Reaching to the left, he went to grab his hairbrush…
And his hand met empty porcelain.
Pausing, he looked down. The black-bristled brush was gone. It wasn't a crisis. It wasn't an ambush. It just wasn’t where he was sure he’d left it. A small, amused huff escaped him, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
"Huh," he murmured to his reflection.
Opening the small medicine cabinet, he found nothing but bottles and Band-Aids. Walking back into the bedroom, he looked over the neatly organized dresser where he’d placed the bottles of hair products and colognes that Sydney, Ginnie, and Starr had gotten him on their shopping trip.
The brush wasn’t there either.
He searched the nightstand– still nothing.
He walked down the hallway to the kitchen, where his Mate was rinsing out a few glasses. "Sydney," he said, his voice deep and calm. "Have you seen my brush? It is not where I left it."
Turning his way, Sydney dried her hands on a dish towel and gave him a bright, easy smile. "Oh, sorry! I probably moved it when I was wiping down the counters earlier. It might be in the linen closet or on the lower shelf in the big basket."
"Ah." Garrett nodded, completely satisfied with the explanation. It made perfect sense. Things got moved in a shared home. He didn't think twice about it, abandoning the search to help her carry a stack of plates out to the dining room.
Dinner was a lively, raucous affair. The large dining table was crowded with food, and everyone was gathered together. The atmosphere was light, filled with the comforting sounds of silverware clinking and overlapping chatter.
Outside the wide dining room window, the Texas dusk had settled in, and the sounds of the evening filled the air. Not to mention the amazing light show as dozens of fireflies began to blink in the tall grass like tiny, drifting stars. Inside, everything felt beautifully, completely normal.
Grey leaned back in his chair, a grin splitting his face as he looked across the table.
"You think the wild boar story was bad? You should have seen the time Garrett tried to build a glider out of old barn wood and canvas.
He convinced me that because he was a Dragon, aerodynamics would be entirely optional. "
Star chuckled, shaking her head. "Please tell me he didn't jump off the roof."
"Oh, he jumped," Grey said, leaning forward to gesture with his fork. "And he broke clean through Mom's prize-winning tomato trellises on the way down."
A chorus of laughter erupted around the table.
Garrett just shook his head, a quiet, genuine warmth blooming in his chest as he took a sip of his water.
He couldn't remember the glider, but looking at Grey's laughing face, he knew it was true.
He felt the echo of that childhood reckless joy, and just knew he would have all his memories back sooner rather than later.
As the clock ticked past nine, a heavy, unyielding wave of exhaustion suddenly crashed over Garrett.
It wasn't the jagged, frantic mental fatigue of a panic attack or a flashback.
It was a deep, unadulterated physical weariness.
His eyelids felt like lead, and his limbs were entirely drained of energy.
He just knew the unnatural fatigue from the day's routine could be attributed to his healing.
Grey had just cleared his throat and started tapping his glass to start another story. "And then there was the time we found that old pickup truck in the woods…"
"I am so sorry, Bro," Garrett interrupted softly, his voice thick with a yawn he couldn't entirely suppress. "I think I am going to turn in for the evening."
Pushing back his chair, he stood up and smiled. Ginnie gave him a maternal, understanding nod, and Carrick offered a lazy wave. He could tell that they understood how hard his body was working to repair itself.
Sydney stood and stepped close to him. Wrapping her arms gently around his neck, she got up on her tiptoes to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. "Go get some rest," she whispered, her eyes filled with nothing but tenderness. "I'll be up in a little bit."
Garrett murmured a quiet goodnight and turned to leave. His long strides were slow and steady as he headed up the stairs.
The bedroom was dark, insulated from the distant, muffled sound of laughter still drifting up from the kitchen. Garrett made quick work of getting undressed and crawled beneath the heavy quilt, sighing blissfully as his head sank deep into the soft pillow.
“Tomorrow is gonna be a good day,” he reassured the moonlit room. “I bet I remember something really good.”
And then, he was asleep almost before his eyes closed.
It was a total, pitch-black silence. There were no vivid nightmares of the underground tunnels. Leviathan was not roaring and tearing at his psyche. The suffocating whispers of the dark mages were absent from the corners of his mind. There was absolutely nothing.
For the first time since escaping the Abyss, Garrett slept without dreaming.