Dylan woke with a sharp inhale, his eyes flashing open before his brain could process where he was.
The stiff angles of the hospital chair bit into his back, the amber emergency lights cast dim shadows across the privacy curtain, and a strange, lingering ache throbbed right along the side of his neck.
His hand flew there immediately, pressing into the skin as fragments of memory clawed their way back to the surface.
Yve.
Her voice.
A light, precise touch against his neck.
Then absolute nothingness.
His head snapped toward the hospital bed.
Empty.
The white sheets and blankets were rumpled and cold, stripped of any warmth.
Panic spiked through his veins before he could even draw breath, driving him onto his feet with a violent scrape of chair legs against the floor.
“Yve?”
No answer.
He tore the curtain aside and lunged out into the corridor, his gaze sweeping the deserted length of the hallway toward the nurses station and the empty waiting alcove.
Nothing.
His chest tightened into a hard, painful knot.
Then a flicker of motion caught his eye down the opposite wing.
Yve was walking toward him from the far end of the hall, her steps steady as she headed back for the room.
Dylan froze, raw relief slamming into him so hard it nearly inverted into blinding frustration.
He closed the distance in a few rapid strides.
“What happened?”
Yve blinked, her expression entirely blank.
“What?”
“What did ya do?”
One dark eyebrow lifted.
“What are you talking about?”
Dylan opened his mouth to press her but stopped.
The memory remained stubbornly clear.
It hadn’t felt like a dream.
Not entirely.
His gaze searched her face, hunting for anything that might explain the missing stretch of time.
Yve stared right back, looking completely calm and entirely normal.
His eyes drifted briefly to her damp hair before returning to her eyes, knowing something did not add up.
He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a rough breath.
“Nothin’.”
The word came out reluctantly.
Yve continued watching him, her posture unyielding.
For another second, Dylan considered pushing the issue, demanding the truth.
Then he looked at her again.
She was standing right there.
She was not hurt.
She was not frightened.
Whatever she had been up to, she clearly had zero intention of explaining it tonight.
Dylan exhaled through his nose and stepped aside, gesturing toward the open alcove.
“C’mon.
Let’s get ya back to bed.”
Yve offered a small nod, falling into step as he guided her back inside.
As they walked, his eyes flicked down to her hair one more time.
“Why’s your hair wet?”
“I washed it.”
His eyes narrowed.
“My head was itchy.”
Dylan stared at her.
For several long seconds, neither of them said a word.
“…Right.”
He did not believe her.
Not even a little.
But he had zero proof, and Yve was not about to hand him any explanations on a silver platter.
For now, he let it drop.
He helped her settle back against the mattress, smoothing out the sheets and arranging her pillows with an excess of mechanical care, duplicating the same routine he had run all afternoon.
Once she was comfortable, Dylan dragged the plastic chair back to its spot beside the mattress and dropped into it.
Silence reclaimed the room, broken only by the hum of the monitors and the distant, muffled sounds of the sleeping hospital.
Yve closed her eyes, letting out a steady breath.
Across the narrow gap, Dylan watched her for a minute before leaning his head back against the wall.
His hand drifted unconsciously back toward his neck, fingers hovering over the exact spot where the numbness had bloomed.
The memory was real.
He was entirely sure of that much.
What he could not figure out was why she had done it.
Dylan glanced toward Yve once more.
She was already drifting toward sleep, tucked beneath the blankets with damp hair and an expression of complete innocence.
He shook his head in the dark.
Whatever she had been sneaking around to do, he would ask her when she was ready to talk.
For right now, she was here.
She was safe.
And somehow, that mattered infinitely more than getting answers tonight.
~~~
The following morning, Dylan stood at the edge of the curb and flagged down a passing taxi.
The vehicle braked smoothly, drifting toward the pavement with a soft crunch of gravel.
Dylan stepped forward, pulled the rear door open, and held it steady.
“Thanks.” Yve slid across the vinyl seat, immediately shifting toward the opposite window to watch the street.
Dylan climbed in beside her and pulled the door shut.
She had finally been cleared for discharge that morning.
The attending physician found no lingering complications during the final round of observations, and since her rapid recovery left zero clinical justification for keeping her confined, the paperwork had been processed without delay.
Even so, Dylan was far from convinced she was ready to face the world.
He settled into the seat, and turned to look at her.
Yve caught the movement in her peripheral vision and turned her head.
“What?”
Dylan studied her face for a long beat.
“What happened last night?”
Her expression remained completely blank.
“What do you mean?”
“Why’d you do that?”
Her eyebrows drew together in a clean line.
“Do what?”
Dylan’s hand moved instinctively to the side of his neck.
He flexed his jaw once, his fingers pressing into the exact spot where her fingertips had struck him the night before, his gaze locked onto her eyes.
She looked genuinely confused.
Not defensive.
Not guilty.
Just entirely baffled.
Dylan’s brow tightened.
Maybe it really had been a dream.
He had been thoroughly worn down, half-delirious in a stiff plastic chair after burning through a day of pure, unadulterated panic.
Except the memory refused to sit right.
It felt too precise.
Too real.
And yet, why would Yve pull something like that?
Before he could chase the thought any further, Yve shifted, leaning toward him.
Dylan blinked, his train of thought shattering.
She held both palms open between them.
Resting in the center of her hands was the smooth, dark stone she hauled out of the lake.
She bit lightly at her lower lip, watching him with an air of quiet expectation.
Dylan stared down at the object.
“What’s that?”
“I found it…” She hesitated for a fraction of a second, her gaze dropping to the crescent curve of the mineral.
“…last night.”
Dylan narrowed his eyes.
“When you were asleep.” Yve added.
“It’s like the moon.”
Dylan raised an eyebrow.
“Okay…?”
Yve rolled the stone slightly between her palms, showcasing its clean, natural arch before extending her hands further toward him.
“Keep it.”
Dylan stared at the rock, then back up to her face.
“What am I gonna do with that?”
Yve offered a slight shrug, unbothered by his skepticism.
He looked from the smooth dark surface back to her.
She was still waiting, her quiet, hopeful expression leaving him entirely defenseless against his better instincts.
Dylan cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
“Alright.”
He reached out and took the stone from her palms.
It carried a surprising heft, denser than an ordinary river stone.
As he rolled it between his fingers, he noticed its unusual texture.
He turned it over once, then twice, examining the subtle grain of the material.
Yve watched him closely, clearly tracking his reaction.
“Thanks…?”
A genuine smile broke across her face.
Dylan slipped the crescent-shaped stone safely into his jacket pocket.
A moment later, Yve turned her attention back to the window, rolling it down with a sharp crank.
Cool morning air rushed into the back seat, catching her dark hair and billowing it back behind her shoulders.
She closed her eyes for a long moment, letting the breeze wash over her face.
Dylan watched her profile, his hand drifting unconsciously toward the pocket where the strange little rock rested.
~~~
By the time they reached the DUV field station, the morning had already settled into a steady rhythm around the facility.
Dylan paid the cab driver before stepping out to help Yve with the door.
Together, they made their way inside.
The moment they crossed the threshold, Yve stopped dead in her tracks.
Emily, Harry, and Adreian were gathered near the common area table.
Sitting right in the middle was a frosted cake.
Written across the top in neat, clumsy icing were the words:
HAPPY DISCHARGE
Yve stared at it, her eyebrows lifting.
“What’s that…?”
Adreian glanced up toward the cake.
“It says, ‘Happy Discharge.'”
Yve nodded slowly.
“Ahhh…”
Adreian gestured toward the small candles flickering across the top.
“It’s customary that you blow them out.”
Yve looked at the flames.
Then at Adreian.
Then back at the cake.
“Why?”
Adreian’s mouth twitched faintly at the corner.
“Hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and you already got yourself thrown into a hospital.
It’s a little social ritual humans do when someone survives a catastrophe.”
Yve considered that for a moment before nodding.
“Oh.”
She leaned forward and blew.
The flames flickered, then vanished one after another in a curl of grey smoke.
Emily smiled brightly.
Harry offered a small, approving clap.
Yve straightened up, looking mildly pleased with herself.
Adreian reached for the plastic cake knife.
“Now you get cake.”
Yve’s attention immediately zeroed in on the dessert.
“Okay.”
He sliced a neat piece and transferred it onto a paper plate.
Then Adreian glanced back up at her.
“Go change your clothes.
We’re heading back out to the cave.”
Yve nodded.
“Can I have that first, though?”
Adreian looked at the plate in his hand.
“Of course.
We bought it for you.”
Yve smiled.
“Thank you.”
As Adreian prepared to slide her a second slice, Emily stepped toward Dylan, holding out a spare paper plate.
“You want some cake?”
Dylan glanced at the table.
Before he could answer, Yve caught the exchange.
Her eyes flicked from Emily to Dylan, her lips pressing into a thin, critical line.
She said nothing, but her focus dropped heavily back toward Adreian as he managed the frosting with the knife.
Dylan noticed the micro-shift in her expression.
So did Adreian.
Emily remained standing beside Dylan, waiting for an answer.
Dylan glanced at Yve one more time, then back at the plate.
“Yeah,” Dylan muttered, taking the offer.
“Sure.”
Yve, meanwhile, watched Adreian methodically slice the cake, serving portions to Harry and Emily before cutting one for himself.
The moment he noticed Dylan standing nearby, however, the knife paused in his hand.
He dropped it onto the counter, shot Dylan a sharp, measuring look, and walked away without a word.
Dylan let out a low huff, a dry smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
Yve paid the tension no mind.
She picked up the plastic knife, took Dylan’s plate, and carved out a generous chunk of cake, sliding it straight onto his plate.
Adreian caught the entire exchange from across the room.
Dylan glanced his way for barely a second.
Adreian immediately looked away, his jaw tightening.
Completely oblivious to the silent battle lines, Yve simply handed Dylan his plate.
“Here.”
Dylan looked down at the oversized slice, then back up at her.
“Thanks.”
Yve settled into her chair, taking another bite of the frosted dessert with a quiet hum of satisfaction as the sweetness melted across her tongue.
“Hmmm, it’s like clouds,” she murmured, savoring the flavor.
Dylan sat beside her, leaning against the table with his plate in hand.
“Good?”
Yve nodded, dragging her tongue lightly over her lip to catch a stray crumb.
“Very.”
“You going back to the site?”
“I have to.
It’s my job.”
“I’m comin’ with ya this time.”
Yve shook her head without a moment’s hesitation.
“You can’t.”
Dylan raised an eyebrow, taking a slow bite of cake.
“Why?”
“I mean, you’re not allowed inside.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not authorized.”
“I’ll stay outta the way.” Dylan chewed deliberately, considering the logistics for a beat.
“Ain’t gonna touch nothin’.”
Yve opened her mouth to retort, stalled completely, and then frowned at him.
Before Dylan could fire back, Emily approached their table, tapping the empty space beside Yve to draw her attention.
Yve turned her head.
“Yeah?”
Emily hesitated, offering a small, tentative smile.
“Can I friend you?”
Yve froze.
Then her expression melted into a bright, welcoming smile.
“Of course.”
Emily’s face lit up.
“You’ll be my second human female friend,” Yve added, entirely sincere.
Emily’s smile faltered, dropping a fraction.
“Oh, thanks.
I meant…
on Facebook.”
Yve blinked.
“On what?”
Emily stared at her, utterly derailed.
She pulled out her own phone, opened the app, and turned the screen toward Yve to display her profile page.
“You’re…
on Facebook, right?”
Yve blinked again at Emily’s profile.
“What is that?”
“You don’t have an account?”
Yve cast a helpless glance toward Dylan.
Dylan shrugged, completely unhelpful.
Emily, struggling to process what she was hearing, stared at Yve in disbelief.
“How on earth could you not know what Facebook is?”
Yve’s smile evaporated as a flush of embarrassment crept up her neck.
She dropped her gaze to the table, wishing the linoleum would just open up and swallow her.
Emily caught herself, waving a hand dismissively.
“Never mind.
How about Instagram?
Snapchat?
TikTok?”
Yve stared right back at her, her bewildered expression locking into place across every single name.
“Do you want me to make you one?” Emily offered gently.
Yve bit her lower lip, glanced back at Dylan for moral support, and then gave a small, hesitant nod, tucking both hands behind her back.
“Okay.” Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
Without questioning Emily, Yve handed her phone over and watched as Emily connected it to the facility’s Wi-Fi.
The screen blinked open.
There was no password protection guarding the home screen.
No customized wallpaper, no photos, and not a single social media app.
Just the standard apps that came with the phone.
Emily let out a long breath of pure disbelief, glancing up at Yve, who stared back with innocent curiosity.
She decided not to question it and opened the app store, starting the download for Facebook.
“Never seen a phone this dead in my life.”
Yve frowned slightly.
“I…I just charged it at the hospital.”
Emily’s jaw dropped an inch.
“I meant…” She caught herself, rubbed the bridge of her nose, and shook her head.
“Never mind.”
She opened the newly installed application and began tapping through the account creation fields.
“What name do you want to use?”
Yve thought for a beat.
“How about Celestia…”
Emily typed the letters into the text box.
“Birthday?”
Yve parted her lips.
“June seventeen, seventeen eigh-…”
She slammed the brakes.
Her gaze darted instinctively across the room towards Adreian.
Standing near the edge of the common area, he had caught the slip instantly and gave her a sharp, minimal shake of his head.
Yve pivoted without missing a beat.
“June 17, 2002.”
Emily nodded, tapping the numbers onto the screen.
“Aren’t you a bit young to be a lead consultant?
You’re practically the same age as my sister, Ava.”
Yve said nothing, watching the interface advance to the next prompt.
They hit the profile setup screen.
“Now for your picture.” Emily tapped into the photo gallery.
It was completely empty.
She stared at the blank grid for several long seconds before turning her eyes back to Yve.
“Wow.”
Yve tilted her head.
“What?”
Emily shook her head, choosing discretion over chaos.
“No…nothing.”
She backed out of the gallery and launched the camera app instead, thrusting the phone back into Yve’s hands.
“Here.
Just take a quick selfie.”
Yve held the device up, framing her face in the viewfinder.
Her thumb hovered over the capture button, but her fingers slipped against the phone, accidentally toggling the augmented reality filters.
A pair of oversized, twitching bunny ears instantly sprouted from her head, paired with exaggerated, sparkling cartoon eyes and a pink button nose.
Yve froze.
Her eyes went wide as saucers.
“Why do I look like that?” she demanded, staring at the screen in genuine bewilderment.
“I do not have fluffy ears.”
Dylan, sitting beside her continued to watch the disaster unfold, buried a grin behind his hand and shook his head.
Emily clamped a hand over her mouth, vibrating with suppressed laughter.
Yve looked back and forth between them, glaring at the digital rabbit ears still bouncing on her head.
“What’s funny?”
After a few more disasters, Yve’s Facebook account was finally set up.
Emily sent her a friend request, added her into the active group chat, and walked her through the basic mechanics of navigating the interface.
Within minutes, Yve began catching on, her initial confusion dissolving into genuine fascination as her thumb swiped across the screen to cycle through the available filters.
“So this society invented augmented reality,” Yve said, watching the effects change across the screen, “and you guys chose to use it for…
silly images like this?”
She swiped again.
A digital halo of glowing butterflies fluttered into view.
Another swipe warped her head into a cartoonish alien silhouette.
The next cast a shimmering underwater blue over the display, followed by a sleek pair of shaded sunglasses that snapped onto her face.
Some filters completely distorted her features into caricatures, while others subtly polished her lighting and contours.
Yve studied each transformation with the intensity of an archivist examining ancient artifacts.
Dylan watched from beside her, thoroughly entertained by her shifting expressions.
At some point, he had completely forgotten about the slice of cake still sitting on his paper plate, his attention entirely absorbed by Yve and the way the glowing screen kept altering her appearance.
Emily watched her for a beat before letting out a soft laugh.
“You’re pretty weird.”
Yve looked up.
“In a good way,” Emily added hastily, raising a hand.
“But weird.”
Yve considered that, then gave a small smile.
“You’re not the first person to tell me that.” She looked back down at the phone, swiping through another filter.
“Thanks…”
Emily nodded.
“You’re welcome.”
Yve leaned closer to Dylan, still holding her phone as she tried to remember the new terminology.
“What’s your…
account?”
Dylan shook his head.
“Don’t have one.”
Yve blinked, glancing down at her freshly minted profile before fixing her gaze back on him.
“Let’s make you one.”
Dylan instantly shook his head.
“Don’t wanna.”
Yve ignored the protest entirely.
She simply extended an open palm, holding her hand out between them and waiting.
Dylan stared back.
Yve didn’t move.
Neither did he.
After several seconds, Dylan let out a resigned sigh, the kind that made it clear he already knew he wasn’t winning this argument.
He pulled out his phone and handed it to her.
Yve took it with a small, satisfied smile.
She tapped the screen, attempting to retrace the steps Emily had just walked her through.
Emily leaned in from the side, peering over Yve’s shoulder and stepping in with a quiet correction whenever a stray tap sent them into the wrong menu.
For the most part, Yve picked up the mechanics with surprising speed.
She navigated through the interface, located the correct application, and pushed through the initial setup prompts with only minor guidance.
Then she hit the name field.
Yve stared at the keyboard.
The English alphabet was still a mystery to her, and the letters on the screen offered no help.
She turned the phone toward Dylan.
“T…
type your name.”
Dylan took the phone back without a word of resistance.
By this point, he possessed enough self-preservation to avoid fighting a battle Yve had already decided she was going to win.
He typed in his name, then filled out the remaining information required to create the account.
October 3, 1994
Male
Single
Emily read the information aloud as she checked the fields.
“October third, 1994.
Male.”
Yve listened carefully, committing the date to memory.
“October third…” she repeated softly to herself.
A notification banner slid down across Yve’s screen.
She tapped it open, finding a fresh friend request waiting from Adreian.
She cast a brief look across the room, catching Adreian raising a single eyebrow in acknowledgment, and tapped accept with a faint, amused smile.
A moment later, Dylan finished configuring the last settings on his own device and fired off a friend request to her profile, which Yve accepted just as quickly.
Adreian walked over, his expression shifting into operational focus.
“We should go.”
Yve nodded, pushing up from her chair.
“I’ll be right back.”
She slipped away down the corridor to change clothes while Dylan headed toward his own quarters to do the same.
Once the door clicked shut behind him, he dropped his keys on the small desk and checked his phone gallery to establish his new profile.
He checked his gallery.
There weren’t many pictures.
Most were practical, unremarkable images: the standard issue DUV Security hardware, the serial numbers on his assigned sidearm and ammunition magazines, and a geotagged screenshot marking Yve’s coordinates.
Then he came across the picture he had taken on the airplane.
Dylan opened it.
The photograph showed the view from their flight, the clouds stretching beneath the plane.
Yve was in the frame, only partially visible.
He studied it for a moment before selecting it as his profile picture.
With a faint smile, Dylan adjusted the crop, shifting the view until Yve’s forehead sat near the center of the frame.
He looked at it once more.
Then he locked his phone and went to finish getting ready.