The clinic room smelled like antiseptic and polished glass.
Lucas sat on the edge of the examination table, back straight, arms crossed lightly. The robe was slightly too large and pulled at the shoulders whenever he moved. There was a faint chill in the air, but he didn't shiver.
He stopped doing things like that; his mind began to realize that this was another life and body, one that was simply uncomfortable during medical checkups.
Across the room, Dr. Elaine checked a file on her screen, her brows knit in quiet concentration. She wore the same subtle lavender perfume as last time, and her tone, when she finally spoke, was warm but clinical—measured, like someone who had spent years learning how not to alarm people who had every right to be alarmed.
"You've had two types of inhibitors in your system over the last four years," she said. "One long-acting and systemic—clearly planned, possibly since early adolescence. The other was unregulated and recent."
Lucas didn't blink. "I took that one myself."
"I know," she said gently. "But whoever gave you the first knew what they were doing. They weren't just suppressing expression. They were delaying development. Carefully."
Lucas didn't flinch. He already knew.
Dr. Elaine tapped a note on her tablet and looked up, her expression kind.
"The attending physician from your collapse submitted a full advisory," she said. "No medication. No supplements. Nothing that regulates you artificially until we know what's stabilizing and what's just masking."
Lucas nodded. "Hence the full exam."
She smiled softly. "Hence the full exam."
There was no pity in her voice, just professionalism softened by genuine care.
Lucas appreciated it more than he wanted to.
"We're doing a full metabolic reset screening," Dr. Elaine continued. "That means glandular, neurological, and skeletal. Bone density. Hormone response. Tissue regeneration markers. All of it."
"All under the sun," Lucas said, a little dryly.
She tilted her head. "And a few things under the moon, if you're still up for it."
That made him almost smile.
She set the tablet down and approached the scan table. "Do you remember the orientation from last time?"
"I remember the humming noise. It makes your teeth feel like they're vibrating."
"That would be the magnetic resonance," she said gently. "We'll keep it brief."
Lucas slid off the table and moved to the platform on his own.
Dr. Elaine didn't stop him. She just adjusted the sensors, her touch light but careful.
"You've already come farther than most patients do in six months," she said.
Lucas didn't reply.
He stared at the ceiling, still and quiet, as the machine began to warm.
And then, just before the scan began, Dr. Elaine said, softer than before:
"You're doing well, Lucas. I just wanted you to know that."
Lucas's voice was barely audible.
"I don't know what 'well' feels like."
She said nothing for a long moment.
"Then let's find out."
The scan platform made a soft descending sound as it powered down, the hum in Lucas's bones finally easing. He blinked slowly, eyes adjusting again to the stillness of the room.
Dr. Elaine was already stepping forward with a folded cloth and a fresh glass of water.
"That's the worst of it," she said gently. "You did fine."
Lucas didn't answer right away.
He slid off the platform with practiced control, accepting the cloth without comment as he sat back down on the table.
He'd barely touched the water when the door opened.
Trevor stepped in, coat half undone, hair a little windblown from the drive. He didn't speak immediately—just took in the room with one glance. The tray. The vials. The way Lucas was sitting. The way Dr. Elaine stood between them, not as a barrier but as a quiet reminder that this was still her space.
"You're early," Lucas said, not looking at him.
Trevor's eyes flicked to the scanner still resetting behind him. "I'm not."
Dr. Elaine glanced between them. "He tolerated everything well," she said, her tone professional again. "Vitals stable. Full neural response. Bone density came back slightly below expected for his age group, likely due to the prolonged use of suppressants, but nothing critical."
Trevor didn't move.
"Can I see the report?"
Elaine hesitated—just for a second. Then handed him the tablet.
Lucas watched him read. The room fell into that kind of silence only medical rooms ever had—quiet, clinical, somehow louder than it should be.
"You should've called me when it started," Trevor said after a moment, eyes still on the screen.
"I didn't need you here," Lucas replied, voice flat. He trusted Trevor enough to accept his help with Misty, but he didn't want to be dependent on him. He would meet the woman he married in his past life and maybe he would want to do it again. Lucas didn't plan to intervene in his fate.
"You didn't want me here," Trevor corrected.
Lucas said nothing.
Dr. Elaine cleared her throat gently. "The remaining analysis will take a few hours. Once we've ruled out cellular fatigue and endocrine rebound, I'll be able to give a more complete outlook."
Trevor nodded without looking up. "Thank you."
"I'll be back when the second round is ready." She offered Lucas a quiet smile. "You were better than most full-grown diplomats."
Lucas gave a short, hollow laugh. "That's a low bar."
Elaine left.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Trevor set the tablet down on the edge of the counter.
"Do you trust her?" he asked.
Lucas blinked. "You don't?"
"I trust very few people right now." Trevor looked at him, finally. "And you're not one of them."
That stung, but it didn't show.
"Good," Lucas murmured. "I wouldn't trust me either."
Lucas observed Trevor in the steel cabinet's reflection: calm posture, perfect tone. The scan had long since gone quiet, but the silence in the room hadn't.
"Did something happen?" Lucas asked again.
Trevor didn't pause.
"Just work," he said smoothly. "And a cousin I'm avoiding. One of the talkative ones."
He didn't stumble. Didn't blink. Didn't shift his weight. He didn't seem to be hiding anything except a strained relationship with his family. Lucas knew that there were almost no family members who could say they had a good relationship with Trevor besides Serathine.
Lucas nodded slowly, the corners of his eyes tightening just a little. "You seem tense for someone dodging small talk."
Trevor let out a soft huff of amusement. "You've never met her."
He turned to pick up the folder left by the assistant earlier—just a list of upcoming checkups, harmless and dull. His fingers were steady, movements unhurried. Everything about him said control.
Lucas didn't know yet that Trevor lied like a man who rarely had to—and that made it all the more dangerous when he did.
Because it didn't sound like avoidance.
It sounded like truth.
"Finish the last scan," Trevor said, glancing back toward him. "I'll be outside. If you faint again and they call me in, I swear I'll take a photo for your records."
Lucas rolled his eyes. "Can't wait."
The door closed behind him with a soft hiss.
Dr. Elaine re-entered a moment later, tablet in hand, her expression gentler now—but her eyes flicked toward the closed door with something unreadable before she turned back to her patient.