Jason slept in forty-minute fragments. The clock across the private room blurred into meaninglessness, numbers melting together until the only thing anchoring him was the sound of breathing that wasn't supposed to exist.
Slow. Controlled. Too steady.
He sat in the chair beside the bed, coat draped over the back, sleeves rolled up. He hadn't gone home. He hadn't called anyone. He'd signed off on paperwork with half his mind while the other half stayed locked on the man lying in front of him.
Jane Doe.
That was what the chart said.
Jason hated it.
The man lay propped against pillows now, hospital sheet pulled up to his waist, bare chest rising and falling beneath the strange lattice of markings that never quite stopped moving. They weren't glowing...not fully...but there was a faint shifting under the skin, like something adjusting itself constantly.
Jason rubbed his eyes and stood, joints stiff. "You awake?"
The man's gaze sharpened immediately.
"Yes, then," Jason thought. Definitely awake.
"Good," Jason said quietly, keeping his voice low. "Try not to sit up too fast."
The man obeyed, which surprised Jason. Most patients pushed limits the moment consciousness returned. This one seemed to… listen.
Jason poured water into a plastic cup and held it out. "Let's try this."
The man hesitated, eyes flicking from the cup to Jason's face, then back. He took it carefully, hands steady, and brought it to his lips.
He swallowed once.
Then choked.
Jason was on him instantly, steadying his shoulder. "Easy. Slow."
The man coughed, face tightening in irritation more than distress. He tried again, smaller sip this time. Success.
Jason exhaled. "There we go."
The man looked at the cup like it had betrayed him.
Jason almost smiled.
Almost.
"You've been through a lot," Jason said, pulling the stool closer. "Your body is… adjusting."
The man frowned slightly. He opened his mouth, tried to speak again.
Nothing.
The frustration this time was sharper. His hand clenched, then unclenched, knuckles whitening.
Jason leaned forward. "Hey. Don't push it."
The man's eyes snapped up, something raw flickering through them...anger, maybe fear. He shook his head, lips forming silent words that never made it past his throat.
"I know," Jason said gently. "I know you want answers."
The man stared at him, then slowly lifted a finger and pointed at his own chest.
"Yes," Jason said. "You."
Then the finger pointed at Jason.
"Me," Jason confirmed.
The man tilted his head, questioning.
"You're in a hospital," Jason said. "You were injured. I found you."
The man's brow furrowed deeper. He gestured again...this time sweeping his hand vaguely around himself, then pressing two fingers to his temple.
Jason understood the question immediately.
What am I?
Jason swallowed. "I don't know yet."
The honesty seemed to surprise him.
Jason leaned back slightly. "But I'm trying to find out."
The man studied him intently, eyes narrowing like he was testing something. Then...carefully...he reached out again.
Jason tensed automatically, memories of flickering lights and pressure spikes flashing through his mind.
But the man stopped short, palm hovering inches from Jason's arm.
Asking.
Jason hesitated only a second before nodding. "Okay."
The man's fingers closed around Jason's forearm.
The effect was immediate.
Not explosive this time. Subtle. The faint pressure Jason had grown accustomed to...behind his eyes, in his ears...eased, like static dissolving into silence.
Jason sucked in a breath. "That… helps, doesn't it?"
The man nodded slowly.
"You calm down when I'm close," Jason said, more to himself than to him. "And everything else calms down too."
The man's grip tightened just slightly.
Jason looked at him. "You're scared."
The man stiffened, then looked away.
Jason softened his voice. "That's okay."
For a moment, the man's composure cracked. His jaw clenched, muscles along his neck standing out sharply. His hand trembled where it rested on Jason's arm.
Jason didn't pull away.
"You don't remember how you got here, do you?" Jason asked.
The man shook his head.
"Do you remember anything?"
Another pause. Then...hesitation. The man closed his eyes.
Jason felt it before he saw it. The tattoos brightened faintly, lines pulsing faster, as if reacting to internal stress.
"Hey," Jason said quickly. "Stop. Don't force it."
The man opened his eyes again, breath uneven. He nodded once, sharply, like a soldier receiving an order.
Jason leaned back, heart pounding. "Good."
There was a knock at the door.
Both of them turned toward it.
The man reacted first.
The tattoos flared brighter, spreading heat through the room. The air thickened, heavy and electric. Jason felt the pressure slam back into his skull like a warning.
"Easy," Jason said, standing. "It's okay."
The door opened a crack. A nurse peered in. "Doctor Hale? Admin is asking..."
The man sat bolt upright.
Jason swore under his breath. "Close the door."
The nurse froze. "Doctor..."
"Now."
Something in Jason's tone cut through hesitation. The door shut quickly.
The pressure eased, but the man remained tense, eyes fixed on the door like it might attack him.
Jason turned back to him. "You don't like strangers."
The man shook his head vehemently.
"You reacted earlier too," Jason said. "When the staff crowded you."
The man's jaw tightened. He gestured sharply, fingers slicing through the air.
"Too much?" Jason guessed.
A nod.
"Too loud. Too many people."
Another nod.
Jason exhaled slowly. "Okay."
He paced once, hands on his hips, mind racing through possibilities. Trauma responses didn't explain the environmental reactions. PTSD didn't cause lights to flicker or machines to short.
But fear could trigger something else.
Jason stopped in front of him. "I'm going to ask you something important."
The man straightened slightly.
"Can you control it?" Jason asked quietly. "What happens when you get scared."
The man hesitated.
Then shook his head.
Jason felt something settle heavily in his chest.
"That's not your fault," he said firmly. "But it means this place isn't safe for you."
The man's eyes widened.
"For you," Jason clarified. "Or anyone else."
Another knock echoed down the hall.
Jason checked his phone.
Unknown number.
He already knew who it was.
His other life never slept.
Jason silenced the phone and looked back at the man. "What do you remember about… fighting?"
The man froze.
Slowly, his gaze dropped to his hands.
Jason watched his face change...subtle shifts, muscle memory surfacing before conscious thought. His fingers curled, then relaxed, like they remembered weapons they weren't holding anymore.
"You were trained," Jason said softly. "Weren't you?"
The man nodded once.
"For war."
A longer pause.
Then another nod.
Jason felt cold.
"Do you know why?"
The man's throat worked. His lips parted, shaping a word that never came.
His eyes darkened.
Jason leaned in. "Hey. It's okay. You don't have to say it."
The man looked at him then...really looked at him...with something heavy and old in his gaze.
He lifted his hand and pressed it flat over his chest, right above where his heart beat.
Then he made a sharp slicing motion across his throat.
Jason's breath caught.
"Because they wanted to kill you?" Jason whispered.
The man shook his head.
He pointed outward. Away. Then repeated the gesture...over and over.
Jason swallowed. "They wanted you to kill everyone else."
The man closed his eyes.
That was answer enough.
Jason straightened slowly, the weight of it pressing down on him. A weapon that couldn't speak. Couldn't remember. Could barely exist without tearing reality around him apart.
And somehow Jason was the only thing keeping him steady.
"That's why you ended up here," Jason said quietly. "You ran."
The man opened his eyes and nodded once.
A choice.
Jason felt something inside him fracture.
Another vibration buzzed in his pocket. This one he couldn't ignore. He stepped into the hall, lowering his voice.
"Yes," Jason said.
"You've got about ten minutes before people start asking questions you don't want answered," the voice on the other end said smoothly. "Word is, you're hiding something interesting."
Jason glanced back through the glass. The man watched him like he was the only solid thing in the room.
"He's not an asset," Jason said.
A chuckle. "Everything is an asset."
Jason ended the call.
He stood there for a long moment, staring at the floor.
Then he made a decision.
When he went back into the room, the man looked at him expectantly.
Jason met his gaze. "We're leaving."
The man blinked.
"This place can't protect you," Jason said. "And it won't try."
He pulled the curtain closed, already reaching for discharge forms he had no right to sign.
The man watched him, something like hope flickering uncertainly across his face.
Jason paused, then added quietly, "I won't let them take you."
The man's hand closed around Jason's wrist again.
This time, it felt like gratitude.
And fear.
Outside, the city waited....
While somewhere beyond it...something had already noticed that its most dangerous weapon was no longer where it was supposed to be.