Page 15 of Never Quite Gone

Marcus set his tablet down with the grace of someone who'd had centuries to perfect the move. “You think he remembers the original binding?”

“I think he remembers enough to be dangerous as hell.” I straightened, decision locked in. “Move up the site inspection. Today if you can swing it. The sooner Eli and I walk those grounds together, the better.”

“He's still grieving,” Marcus reminded me softly. “His husband?—“

“I know.” The words came out sharp as broken glass. Michael's death stood between Eli and me like bulletproof glass - I could see through it but couldn't break it. Not yet. “But Vale won't wait for grief to run its course. Neither can we.”

I checked my watch - same antique piece I'd worn through decades, marking time while hiding secrets. “Car in twenty. Want to walk the grounds before this board circus starts.”

“And Vale?”

“Sometimes the only way to beat old enemies is to make them remember why they became enemies in the first place.”

Marcus nodded once, ancient warrior's understanding in his eyes. We'd played this game through centuries, he and I. Guardianand guided, protector and protected. But this time felt different. The pieces were aligning in ways they never had before.

Eli's recognition yesterday hit harder than previous lives. Vale's moves felt calculated rather than instinctive. Even William's unconscious digging carried new weight.

The office door banged open without warning - Will's signature dick move since we were kids. My brother carried a leather satchel that looked wrong against his modern power suit, its aged leather screaming of dust and secrets.

He emptied his historical landmines onto my desk - letters gone yellow with age, faded ink telling stories of family tragedy centered on Presbyterian Hospital.

The confirmation of another connection made my pulse jump, but I kept my face blank as marble. Through centuries of practice, I'd learned to hide everything behind perfect composure.

This time, I wouldn't back down. Not from Vale, not from Will, not from anyone. I'd lost Eli too many times across too many lives.

Time to end this eternal dance once and for all.

Through the ER's glass doors, I watched Eli moving through chaos like a conductor through his orchestra. His hands stayed steady as he directed his team through whatever shit show was going down, a calm eye in the middle of the storm.

Marcus materialized like a ghost at my shoulder, tablet ready. “Board meeting's moved to three. Vale's call.”

“Of course it is.” I fidgeted with my cufflinks - the ones I'd picked like weapons this morning. “Bastard's trying to limit my time with Eli.”

Sofia watched me from the nurses' station, her dark eyes carrying more than just suspicion. Some souls just knew truth without knowing why they knew it. Sofia's need to protect Eli went deeper than friendship, even if she didn't understand why.

Movement caught my eye as Eli emerged from trauma, still in blood-stained scrubs. His laser focus softened for a split second when he saw me. Our eyes locked across the lobby, and time did that weird bending thing again. I caught the tremor in his hands before he locked it down, watched him touch his wedding ring like he was apologizing to a ghost.

Through Presbyterian's maze of corridors, walking next to Eli felt like tiptoeing through a minefield of memories. I matched his professional bullshit with centuries of practice, talking traffic patterns and construction logistics like I wasn't hyperaware of his every breath. Each time our shoulders accidentally brushed, electricity crackled through the air like a live wire. Eli would step away, retreating behind those walls he'd built, but I caught the slight shake in his hands before he could hide it.

The late afternoon sun turned his office into something almost holy, all amber and gold. I watched how he avoided looking at the chair across from his desk - the one that still held Michael's ghost. His movements screamed control, but I could read the cost in his shoulders, tight as piano wire.

The Manhattan skyline caught fire in the dying sun, shadows stretching across hospital grounds like reaching fingers. Eli's wedding ring caught the light as he reached for another file, but his movements had lost their surgical precision.

“It's more than that, isn't it?” I kept my voice soft as approaching a spooked animal, taking one careful step closer. “You know this place, these designs. They're hitting something deeper than professional interest, even if you can't explain why.”

Eli's grip on his desk turned his knuckles white. The tremor had spread from his hands to his shoulders, barely visible but screaming to eyes that had known him for centuries. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he whispered, but his eyes betrayed him - wide with recognition he couldn't stuff back in its box.

“Don't you?” I pressed gently. “The courtyard feels familiar because you've walked through places like it before.Different times, different places.” I gestured at the blueprints between us. “Your hands know these patterns because they've drawn them before, in lives you can't remember but your soul can't forget.”

“Stop.” The word came out raw, almost begging. “Whatever game you're playing?—“

“This isn't a game, Eli.” I let centuries of love and longing color my voice. “It never has been. Deep down, you know that. You feel it every time our eyes meet, every time something triggers a memory you think you couldn't possibly have.”

He shook his head, but it looked more like desperation than denial. I watched cracks spreading through his carefully built reality - scientist, surgeon, widower. Each role a shield against deeper truths his soul was starting to remember whether he wanted it or not.

“Code Blue, Emergency Department!” Sofia's voice sliced through the moment. She appeared in the doorway already moving like a soldier to battle. “Multi-car pileup, five minutes out.”

Eli snapped back to Dr. Monroe mode like a mask clicking into place, though his hands still shook as he grabbed his white coat. When he brushed past me, his body betrayed him - automatically turning toward mine before he forced himself away. Even now, even without conscious memory, his soul knew its other half.

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