9. The Space Between #2
"No," Darcy said smoothly, pulling a tablet from her bag.
She opened the encrypted files containing the medical records from Garrett's initial rescue. He had seen them enough to immediately know what they were when they popped onto the screen. For five long minutes, the kitchen was entirely silent except for the soft swipe of Darcy’s finger across the screen.
She compared the raw data from his rescue to the physical baseline sitting right in front of her.
"Your previous physicians were idiots," Darcy murmured, her eyes scanning the charts.
"Your neurological function hasn't just stabilized, Garrett.
It has improved. Significantly. Your memory access is expanding, your reaction times are superior to a standard active-duty Dragon Guardsman, and your cognitive processing is running at peak capacity.
Your Man-Dragon King Bond is practically flawless. "
She set the tablet down, leaning her hips against the counter. "Everything in your chart says you are healing."
Garrett let out a cold, humorless breath. "Then explain 3:42 AM. Explain why my body writes down timestamps or marches into a muddy creek bed while my mind is completely blacked out."
Darcy didn't offer a quick, easy answer. And to Garrett, that was infinitely scarier than if she had found structural brain damage.
"Trauma doesn't require visible neurological deterioration, Garrett," Darcy said, her tone turning serious as she addressed the elephant in the room.
"Dissociation remains a very real possibility.
A mind that has survived what yours has can build massive, invisible walls, vaults if you prefer, to isolate certain experiences. "
"But?" Garrett pushed, sensing the shift in her posture.
"But if this were a standard trauma response or structural dissociation, I would expect to see inconsistency elsewhere," Darcy reasoned, her sharp eyes tracking his face.
"You aren't losing your identity during the day.
You aren't confused. You aren't showing a single drop of cognitive deterioration.
In fact, you're getting sharper. The episodes are oddly specific.
Deep sleep. Exactly 3:42 AM. Both you and Han experience the same missing interval.
I'm not going to simply label this PTSD and walk away. There's a variable we're missing.”
Before he could speak, she went on. "I need to observe you sleeping," Darcy concluded matter-of-factly. "I'm going to set up specialized monitoring equipment in the bedroom and observe you tomorrow night."
Garrett let out a heavy, dramatic groan, rubbing his temples. "Great. Wonderful. Everyone wants to watch me sleep."
Grey poked his head through the screen door, a massive smirk on his face. "That's because you're adorable, little brother."
"I'm going to kill you," Garrett growled, glaring at the doorway.
Without even looking up from her screen, Darcy tapped her stylus against the glass. "Homicidal ideation. Noted."
“And that’s what having your older brother around gets you…”
“I have them too,” Darcy deadpanned. “So, I know the BS goes both ways.”
Before he could respond, she pulled out her phone and ordered everything they would need for the following night…
"Before I set up the overnight gear, I want to check the baseline resonance of your Bond with your Dragon King," Darcy said, stepping back into Garrett's space.
She pulled a small, sleek metallic instrument from her bag, a specialized diagnostic sensor designed to measure localized Magical frequencies in Other physiology.
She had explained how it worked to him earlier, but not how cold it would be.
“That thing is freezing,” he complained.
“Yeah, we’ll toughen up, Buttercup,” Darcy countered. “And let Han move closer to the surface." Her voice dropped into a firm, commanding rhythm. "Don't force him out. Just let his consciousness slide forward so I can read the internal signature."
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Garrett closed his eyes. Going inward, he signaled for the Dragon King to come forward. Inside their combined soul, Han rumbled in agreement, his massive, fiery presence shifting forward, pressing right against the barrier of Garrett’s conscious mind.
Darcy lifted the metallic sensor. She pressed the cold instrument directly against the center of Garrett’s chest, right over his heart.
The physical contact didn't just register; it detonated.
The biting, impossible cold of the metal instrument collided with the heat of the pure Dragon Fire…
HAN ROARED.
The sound wasn't a mental whisper. It was a massive, deafening bellow that tore through Garrett’s throat, echoing violently against the kitchen walls.
Garrett doubled over, his eyes flying open as he clutched his chest, gasping for air as if the wind had been violently slammed out of his lungs.
Sydney bolted from her chair, her hands flaring with a sudden, protective spark of White Dragon Magic.
Outside, the screen door flew open as Grey and Carrick went into full Guardsman mode, their hands instinctively pulling their weapons from the ether as they breached the kitchen.
Darcy backed off instantly, raising her hands in a calm, non-threatening gesture, her eyes wide with shock.
"Garrett!" Sydney cried, dropping to her knees beside his stool, her hands locking onto his trembling shoulders. "Garrett, breathe! Talk to me!"
Inside his head, the thunderous storm had completely cleared. The unyielding wall that had blocked the dream last night was fractured, smoke rising from the cracks. Han was panting, his massive golden eyes wide with a terrifying, sudden clarity.
"Han..." Garrett choked out, his voice a raw, ragged whisper as he gripped Sydney’s wrists. "Han, what is it?"
The kitchen went entirely silent, everyone holding their breath as Garrett stared blindly into the empty air, listening to the voice echoing from the deepest structures of his soul.
“I remember,” Han whispered, his deep tone trembling with an ancient, chilling awe. “Lad... I remember.”
"What?" Garrett demanded aloud, his heart hammering violently against his ribs. "What do you see?"
“It was a place,” Han rumbled, struggling to piece the fractured images together. “Fragments. Cold stone beneath us. The sound of rushing water nearby. Darkness... but it wasn't true darkness, because something was faintly glowing. A low, pulsing light.”
Garrett relayed the words to the room, his voice shaking. "A place. Stone and water. A glowing light."
“And a circle,” Han pushed further, his mental claws digging into the fresh memory. “There was a circle, Garrett. Massive. Heavy.”
"What kind of circle, Han?" Garrett pressed mentally, his tactical brain desperate for a grid coordinate, a landmark, anything. "Were there markings? Symbols?"
“I don't know,” Han struggled, the memory beginning to fray at the edges under the strain. “There were stones. Massive stones. Arranged around me. Around us.”
"Where?" Garrett asked aloud, looking at Carrick and Grey. "How many stones?"
“I can't see the number,” Han growled in frustration, the image fading back into the shadows of his mind. “But there was something else... right before the void took us entirely.”
Garrett leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "What?"
“Something burning,” Han whispered into the dark. “And I could smell you.” His voice trembled with a rare, raw vulnerability.
Garrett felt his own breath hitch. “Me?”
“Aye,” Han rumbled, the ancient entity shifting restlessly within his psyche. “I could smell your scent—the leather, the rain, the ash. But I couldn't feel you, Lad. You weren't there, but I could smell that you had been there.”
The admission shattered Garrett's final, desperate line of defense.
The physical timeline was a puzzle. The stolen tie tack had been terrifying.
But this cut deeper than either. Through years of captivity, solitary confinement, and Leviathan's experimentation, Garrett had survived because he and Han shared one soul.
They were an absolute unit. If the world went black, they faced the Darkness together.
But during those missing thirty-second intervals at 3:42 AM, even his Dragon King lost him. Sydney couldn't feel him through the Mating Bond. Han couldn't feel him from the inside. Garrett remembered absolutely nothing.
Whatever happened during those missing thirty seconds, Garrett wasn't simply asleep. Somehow, even Han lost him.
Garrett abruptly stood up from the kitchen stool, his chest heaving as the air turned suffocatingly thin.
He didn't look at Darcy, his brother Carrick, Ginnie, or even Sydney.
He needed air. He needed a perimeter where the walls weren't closing in on him.
Turning on his heel, he marched straight through the screen door, letting it slam shut behind him.
When Sydney stepped out onto the porch, Garrett was standing near the edge of the gravel drive, his hands gripping the wooden railing, his head bowed against the morning sun.
He knew she had sat counting down from thirty before she left the kitchen.
He didn’t have to listen to her thoughts filling the Mating Bond; he just knew his Mate, and more than that, knew that Sydney knew how to handle him.
She walked down the steps, her bare feet silent on the grass until she stood directly beside him, her shoulder brushing his arm. It was just another of the wonderful familiarities he shared with his Mate.
He just wished he could enjoy the feeling instead of worrying about what might happen next…
"If Han can't find me..." Garrett started, his voice a raw, ragged whisper that cut off as a brisk breeze blew across the yard. He couldn't even force his tongue to finish the thought. If his own Dragon King couldn't track his essence inside their shared soul, he was completely unmoored.
"I can," Sydney said fiercely, her blue eyes shining as they locked onto his profile.