Page 14 of Never Quite Gone

Vale's voice cut through the moment like a scalpel. “Dr. Monroe? About those protocol revisions?”

Reality crashed back like a bucket of ice water. I stepped away from Alex - when the fuck had we gotten so close? - trying to wrap myself in professional distance like a shield. My office door had been wide open the whole time, and Vale's snake eyes had seen plenty. The space I'd put between us felt like a confession.

“Of course,” I called to Vale, grateful for the interruption even as something deep inside screamed against it. “Just a minute.”

“I should go,” Alex said, perfect composure intact despite the electric tension in the air. “We'll discuss inspection details another time.”

He moved toward the door with that impossible grace, but paused at the threshold. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Monroe.” His eyes met mine one last time, loaded with centuries of meaning I couldn't process. “Until tomorrow.”

Vale slithered in as Alex left, his calculating gaze dissecting my slightly disheveled state like a tumor sample. I busied myself with papers that didn't need sorting, trying to get my pulse back to something approaching normal.

“Interesting company you're keeping,” Vale's voice dripped poison honey. “Trust you remember our chat about... distractions.”

I met his stare head-on, even though everything inside felt like it was coming apart. “Something specific you needed, Dr. Vale?”

But even as I fell back into our usual passive-aggressive bullshit, my carefully built world was cracking like cheap drywall. The impossible memories lingered like smoke. That pull toward Alex stayed strong as gravity. The feeling that everything I thought I knew about myself might be built on quicksand grew with every heartbeat.

“The protocols,” Vale droned on, his voice distant under the blood rushing in my ears. “About the new trauma response system...”

I nodded in the right places, made notes I'd never read, played my part in this familiar dance of hospital politics. But everything had shifted sideways. The foundation I'd rebuilt after Michael died was crumbling beneath my feet, and I couldn't tell if what waited underneath was solid ground or a bottomless fucking pit.

CHAPTER 4

Walking Through Dreams

My fists slammed into the punching bag, each hit echoing through my private gym like gunshots. The rhythm helped cut through the fog of centuries clouding my head, forcing my brain to focus on the present's complicated chess game.

Every punch carried a flash of yesterday: Eli's face during that meeting, that spark of recognition when our eyes locked, his fingers curling against his desk like he was fighting against a riptide of memories.

Marcus perched in his usual spot by the window, breakfast laid out like a military operation next to his iPad. My old friend's ancient eyes tracked each punch, measuring my focus like he'd done through more lifetimes than I could count.

“Vale's been sniffing around,” he said, voice careful as a surgeon. “Digging into Eli's department. Infrastructure committee's gotten three separate requests for emergency protocol reviews this week alone.”

My fist froze mid-strike, the bag swaying like a drunk before I steadied it. Sweat ran down my back while I processed that little bomb.

“Vale's not just being a nosy bastard,” I muttered, grabbing atowel. “Something's different about him this round. Pattern's got a new wrinkle.”

“He's systematically trying to fuck you over,” Marcus continued, scrolling through his tablet. “My people say he's been working the board members in private. Fancy dinners, golf games. Always steering the conversation back to your development project.”

My jaw clenched while I unwrapped my hands. Vale's obsession with Eli felt primal, visceral - like a memory clawing its way out of a grave. After centuries of this reincarnation dance, I knew the signs of souls starting to remember. Vale wasn't just playing hospital politics anymore.

“Let him dig,” I growled, voice heavy with centuries of determination. “If he's getting fragments back, I'll make him face the whole ugly truth. Better than letting him run wild with half-memories.”

Marcus's silence said more than words. He'd seen too many versions of this shit show play out. “And if forcing those memories breaks something we can't fix?”

“Like the damage he's already trying to do to Eli?” I shot back, heading for the shower. “No. Vale showing up isn't some cosmic coincidence. Nothing in our fucked-up history ever is.”

An hour later, I stood in my penthouse closet like a general prepping for war. The deep blue suit was chosen like a weapon - same color as that fresco I'd commissioned in Florence centuries ago, the one still hanging in the Uffizi with everyone forgetting what it really meant. Antique sapphire cufflinks caught the light like captured stars.

“Hospital board meets at eleven,” Marcus reported from the door. “Vale's asking for time to push his neurosurgery expansion bullshit.”

“Of course he is.” I adjusted my tie, studying my reflection with tactical precision. Every detail calculated to trigger memories Eli didn't know he had. “What else?”

“Construction permits are ready for final sign-off.Architects need your okay on the courtyard tweaks.” He paused like he was defusing a bomb. “There's more - Vale's connection to Presbyterian goes deeper than we thought. His old man wasn't just throwing money around. That Vale Wing of Neurosurgery wasn't named just for cash.”

I moved to my desk where the blueprints spread out like battle plans. The designs weren't just about function - each element wove my world into Eli's like an intricate tapestry. That courtyard especially, with its light and shadow dance mirroring a temple lost to dust and time.

“Vale's not just getting pieces back,” I said, fingers tracing the courtyard's outline. “He's acting on them, even if he doesn't know why. If we don't figure out his role in this clusterfuck, he'll destroy more than just the development project.”

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