By the time Bruno mentioned a bed, Adrian had stopped pretending he wasn't tired.
It wasn't the ordinary kind.
Ordinary tiredness lived behind the eyes. It made coffee necessary and meetings unbearable. It made him fall asleep on the sofa with a controller still in his hand.
This felt structural.
As if every part of him had independently reached the conclusion that it was finished for the day.
Possibly the week.
Bruno noticed.
“You're fading.”
Adrian blinked at him.
“I’m awake.”
“Technically.”
Adrian didn't have enough energy to argue.
Bruno stood.
The armchair released a small creak of relief.
“We have rooms upstairs.”
Adrian looked toward the ceiling.
“Rooms?”
“Temporary accommodation.”
“In the office?”
“Other side of the building. Separate entrance, separate corridor.”
Adrian frowned.
Bruno seemed to understand the question he hadn't asked.
“We deal with displaced people. Portal incidents. People who arrive without documents. People who can't safely go home yet.”
That last one sat between them for a moment.
“How long can I stay?”
“Tonight?”
Bruno paused.
“As long as you need to sleep.”
“That wasn't what I meant.”
“I know.”
Adrian waited.
Bruno didn't elaborate.
Apparently tomorrow's problems remained tomorrow's problems.
Right now, Adrian was too tired to object.
He pushed himself upright.
His ankle complained immediately.
Bruno waited until he was steady before moving.
The accommodation wing was smaller than Adrian expected.
They passed through a secured door that opened with Bruno's badge, then into a quiet corridor with six doors spaced along one side.
No bars.
No observation windows.
No guards.
The walls were painted a warm, unremarkable beige.
Someone had made an effort to make the place not look institutional.
They had mostly succeeded.
Bruno stopped at the third door.
“Here.”
He opened it and stepped aside rather than entering first.
Adrian looked in.
A bed.
A real bed.
Small, but real.
A nightstand. A desk. A chair. A wardrobe. A narrow window overlooking the rear of the building and, beyond that, the first line of trees.
Another door led to a bathroom.
There was a bottle of water on the desk and a folded set of clothes on the chair.
Nothing remarkable.
Nothing threatening.
Adrian stayed in the doorway.
“Who can get in?”
Bruno didn't ask what he meant.
“Staff can override the lock in an emergency.”
Adrian's hand tightened slightly around the doorframe.
Bruno continued.
“Otherwise, you lock it from inside.”
“Emergency?”
“Fire. Medical emergency. You stop responding and we have reason to think you're in danger.”
“So you can get in.”
“Yes.”
Adrian looked at him.
Bruno didn't soften the answer.
For some reason, that helped.
“There’s a call button beside the bed,” Bruno said. “It connects to the desk downstairs. Someone is here all night.”
Adrian entered.
Bruno remained outside.
The lock was simple.
Mechanical handle on the inside, electronic access from the corridor.
Adrian turned it.
The bolt moved.
Unlocked it.
Locked it again.
Bruno watched from the hall.
Adrian opened the door.
Bruno was still there.
“It works,” Adrian said.
“So far, yes.”
Adrian looked at him.
The bear's muzzle shifted slightly.
A joke.
A very small one.
Adrian almost smiled.
Bruno pointed toward the bathroom.
“Towels are inside. There should be toiletries. Water on the desk. If you're hungry, call downstairs.”
Adrian looked at the bed.
His stomach was still strangely empty despite everything he'd eaten earlier.
But the bed was winning.
“Nessa will check on you tomorrow.”
Adrian's eyes moved back to Bruno.
“Tomorrow.”
“If that's all right.”
He nodded.
Bruno hesitated.
“If you wake up and don't know where you are—”
“I'll know.”
Bruno looked at him for a second.
“All right.”
Adrian wasn't sure why that answer felt like a lie.
Bruno stepped away.
“Good night.”
Adrian closed the door.
Locked it.
Then stood with his hand on the handle.
Silence.
No footsteps approaching.
No lock turning from the other side.
Nothing.
He checked it once more.
Locked.
From the inside.
Adrian exhaled.
He should think.
That was the next thing.
There were so many things he needed to think about that he couldn't decide which one deserved to come first.
How long had he been missing?
Where exactly was the laboratory?
Who had taken him?
What had they done?
What was he?
What happened when CSA started searching records?
What was he going to tell them?
What was he going to tell his family?
That thought stopped him.
His mother.
His father.
Mara.
Jonas.
Adrian looked toward the bed.
He needed to ask Bruno about the missing-person database.
Tomorrow.
He needed to know whether Adrian Voss had been reported missing.
Tomorrow.
Then he could—
Adrian sat on the edge of the mattress.
Just for a moment.
His tail got caught beneath him.
He shifted it aside.
The bed was soft.
That was his last clear thought.
* * *
There were fragments.
Light through the window.
Someone knocking.
A woman's voice.
Adrian opened his eyes.
Nessa stood in the doorway.
No.
Not in the doorway.
Outside it.
The door was open because Adrian had opened it.
Hadn't he?
“Just checking on you.”
Adrian tried to answer.
His mouth was dry.
Something about water.
Nessa asked him a question.
Pain.
His ankle.
He moved it.
She seemed satisfied.
There was a tray on the desk.
Soup.
Bread.
Something sweet.
He ate some of it.
Or all of it.
He couldn't remember.
* * *
Darkness.
The bathroom light.
His reflection passing the mirror.
White hair.
For one confused second, Adrian stopped.
Then remembered.
He used the toilet.
Drank directly from the tap.
Went back to bed.
* * *
Someone knocked again.
A voice.
Not Bruno this time.
“You awake in there?”
Adrian made a sound.
Apparently that counted.
“Food's outside.”
Footsteps moved away.
Adrian opened the door sometime later.
A tray waited on the floor.
He brought it inside.
Locked the door.
Ate.
He remembered eating.
Probably.
* * *
Sunlight.
Then darkness.
Then sunlight again.
None of it held together long enough to matter.
His body wanted sleep.
Eventually Adrian stopped fighting it.
And for a while, there was nothing.
No laboratory.
No forest.
No new body.
No questions.
Nothing at all.
* * *
He was sitting at his mother's table.
Adrian knew that before he knew anything else.
Sunday.
The good plates were out.
His mother only used them when everyone came over, despite insisting every single time that they weren't the good plates.
His father sat at the end of the table.
Mara was opposite him.
There was too much food.
That was normal.
The room smelled warm.
Familiar.
Safe.
Adrian looked down.
His hands were his hands.
Larger.
Human.
A faint pale scar near his thumb.
He touched it.
There.
Of course it was there.
His mother placed another bowl on the table.
“You made too much again,” Mara said.
“I didn't.”
“You always do.”
“And somehow none of you complain while taking leftovers home.”
His father reached for the bread.
Mara slapped his hand away.
“Wait.”
“I'm retired. I don't take orders anymore.”
“You've been retired for three years and you still say that every Sunday.”
Adrian smiled.
Something inside him hurt.
Not badly.
The good kind.
The kind that came from missing something while you were still sitting inside it.
His mother looked at him.
“There you are.”
Adrian swallowed.
“Yeah.”
“We were waiting.”
“I know.”
“Where have you been?”
The room became quieter.
Adrian looked around.
Mara had stopped smiling.
His father watched him.
“I don't know.”
His mother sat down.
“You don't know?”
“No.”
He looked at his hands again.
They were smaller.
The scar was gone.
Adrian froze.
White hair slipped over his shoulder.
No.
He lifted his head.
Nobody had moved.
His mother was staring at him.
Mara too.
His father's expression had changed.
Adrian looked down.
The hands on the table were pale and narrow.
Claws rested where fingernails should have been.
His tail hung beside the chair.
“No.”
His voice was wrong.
Higher.
Female.
His mother stood.
“Who are you?”
Adrian pushed back from the table.
The chair scraped loudly across the floor.
“Mom.”
Her face changed.
Not anger.
Fear.
That was worse.
“Who are you?”
“It's me.”
Mara stood too.
Adrian looked at her.
“Mara.”
She moved closer to their mother.
Away from him.
Adrian's heart started beating faster.
“No. Listen. It's me.”
His father rose slowly.
Adrian had seen that movement before.
Not here.
Years ago.
The controlled way his father moved when something had become serious.
“Who told you those names?”
“What?”
“My daughter's name. My wife's.”
“Nobody told me.”
His father stepped between Adrian and the others.
Adrian stared at him.
“Dad.”
“Don't call me that.”
Something broke.
Not loudly.
Just enough.
Adrian shook his head.
“I'm Adrian.”
Nobody moved.
“I'm Adrian Voss.”
His mother made a sound.
Small.
Almost a gasp.
Mara's face hardened.
“Don't.”
Adrian looked at her.
“What?”
“Don't say his name.”
“Mara, it's me.”
“No.”
“I know you.”
“Stop.”
“I know about the apartment you had in university. The one Dad never knew you kept for another three months because you didn't want to move back home.”
Mara went pale.
“I know you broke Mom's kitchen window when you were thirteen and blamed me.”
“You did break it.”
“I was nine.”
“You threw the ball.”
“You told me to.”
For half a second, Mara looked exactly like Mara.
Confused.
Angry.
Scared.
Adrian grabbed onto it.
“Dad's knee hurts when the weather changes even though he says it doesn't. Mom puts too much salt in the soup and pretends she doesn't. You hate pears but eat Mom's pear cake because you don't want to tell her.”
His mother's hand went to her mouth.
“I know where Dad hid the spare key before he finally admitted everyone knew where it was. I know what Jonas gave me for my eighteenth birthday. I know—”
“Stop.”
His father said it quietly.
Adrian stopped.
His father looked at him as if he were something dangerous.
“Where is my son?”
Adrian stared.
“What?”
“Where is Adrian?”
“I'm here.”
His father's jaw tightened.
“Where is he?”
“I am Adrian.”
“No.”
The room shifted.
Adrian didn't notice how.
The walls were farther away.
The light colder.
His mother stood behind his father now.
“Where is my son?”
“Mom.”
“What did you do to him?”
“Nothing.”
The table was metal.
Adrian looked down.
Restraints circled his wrists.
“No.”
His family remained on the other side.
His father.
Mara.
His mother.
Behind them, someone spoke.
A voice Adrian knew.
He didn't know from where.
“Original phenotype is gone.”
Adrian pulled at the restraints.
His mother flinched.
“No. Wait.”
Another voice.
“Completely?”
“Mom, please.”
“No spontaneous reversal.”
Adrian looked around.
The laboratory stretched behind his family.
Glass.
Metal.
White light.
His mother was crying.
Adrian had almost never seen her cry.
“Where is he?”
“I'm here!”
His voice cracked.
Female.
Wrong.
His ears flattened against his head.
His tail wrapped around one leg.
His mother looked at him.
Not recognition.
Not even disbelief anymore.
Grief.
“What did you do to my son?”
“I AM YOUR SON!”
“Previous pattern?”
The voices continued behind them.
“Residual.”
Mara stepped backward.
Adrian pulled harder.
“Please.”
His father put an arm around his mother.
Protecting her.
From him.
“Dad.”
No answer.
“Dad!”
His father looked at him.
“You're not my son.”
Adrian screamed.
* * *
He came awake screaming.
For several seconds, the scream continued because he didn't understand that he was awake.
Bright room.
Something wrapped around his legs.
Adrian kicked.
The blanket tangled tighter.
His back hit the wall.
Claws tore through fabric.
He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't—
“NO!”
The room snapped into focus.
Bed.
Desk.
Window.
Door.
Not metal.
Not the laboratory.
Daylight leaked around the curtains.
Adrian sucked in air.
Too fast.
Again.
Again.
His heart hammered hard enough to hurt.
Hair clung to his face.
His shirt was wet.
So was the back of his neck.
His ears were pressed flat against his skull.
His tail—
Adrian looked down.
It was enormous.
White fur stood out in every direction, turning it into something nearly twice its usual size.
He stared at it.
Another breath.
His hands hurt.
Adrian looked at them.
Claws.
Fully extended.
One had gone through the sheet.
Another had torn a long line through the blanket.
He pulled his hands back.
The claws didn't disappear.
“Go away.”
Nothing happened.
“Fuck.”
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Breathed.
Opened them.
The claws slowly withdrew.
Adrian stared at his fingers.
His whole body was shaking.
The dream.
His mother.
Where is my son?
Adrian pressed both hands against his face.
It wasn't real.
None of it was real.
His family hadn't seen him.
They hadn't rejected him.
His father hadn't said—
You're not my son.
Adrian lowered his hands.
The room was silent.
Then there were hurried footsteps in the corridor.
Adrian's head snapped toward the door.
Someone stopped outside.
A voice he didn't recognize.
“Hello?”
Adrian stared at the handle.
Another set of footsteps approached.
He knew those.
He shouldn't have been able to know those.
Heavy.
Measured.
A deeper voice followed.
“I've got it.”
Bruno.
The first person moved away.
There was a gentle knock.
“Hey.”
Adrian said nothing.
“It's Bruno.”
Another pause.
“I'm not coming in.”
Adrian looked at the lock.
Locked.
The door was locked.
From the inside.
“You're in the accommodation wing,” Bruno said through the door. “CSA office in Rovenmark.”
Adrian swallowed.
His throat hurt.
“You're safe.”
Adrian looked around the room.
Bed.
Desk.
Chair.
Bathroom.
Window.
Safe.
His breathing slowed by a fraction.
Bruno remained outside.
“Can you answer me?”
Adrian opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
He tried again.
“Yeah.”
His voice sounded terrible.
“All right.”
Bruno didn't ask what happened.
Adrian was grateful for that.
He wiped his face.
His palm came away wet.
Sweat.
Maybe tears.
Probably both.
“What time is it?”
There was a pause outside.
“Almost noon.”
Adrian looked toward the window.
Bright daylight pushed through the gap in the curtains.
He tried to remember going to bed.
He remembered Bruno bringing him here.
He remembered sitting down.
Then—
Fragments.
Nessa.
Food.
The bathroom.
Someone knocking.
Sunlight.
Darkness.
Sunlight again.
Adrian frowned.
“What day is it?”
Bruno answered.
Adrian stared at the door.
“No.”
Another pause.
“What?”
Adrian threw the blanket aside.
His ankle protested when he stood, but he barely noticed.
He crossed to the desk.
There was a small information display built into the wall beside it.
He touched the screen.
It lit.
11:43.
And beneath it, the date.
Adrian stared.
He read the date again.
Then a third time.
“That can't be right.”
“It is.”
Adrian turned toward the door as if Bruno could somehow see him through it.
“I got here yesterday.”
“No.”
Adrian looked back at the display.
Two days.
Not quite.
Close enough.
His memory offered him a tray of food.
Nessa at the door.
Darkness.
A bathroom mirror.
Nothing else.
“I slept for two days?”
“Most of two days.”
Adrian stared.
“How?”
“You were exhausted.”
“People don't sleep for two days.”
“You didn't continuously.”
“I don't remember being awake.”
“You weren't very good at it.”
Despite everything, Adrian almost laughed.
It came out as something closer to a broken breath.
He sat on the edge of the bed.
The ruined sheet hung beneath one hand.
“Did Nessa—”
“She checked on you.”
“When?”
“Several times.”
“I don't remember.”
“I know.”
Adrian rubbed his face.
“Was something wrong?”
“She didn't think so. You woke up. You ate. You drank. You used the bathroom. You answered questions.”
“I did?”
“Mostly with one word.”
That sounded plausible.
Adrian looked at his tail.
The fur was beginning to settle.
Slowly.
Embarrassingly.
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
Adrian glanced at the door.
“The screaming.”
Bruno was quiet for a moment.
“You don't need to apologize for that.”
Adrian looked away.
The dream lingered.
His mother's face.
Mara stepping away.
His father standing between them.
Original phenotype is gone.
Adrian froze.
That part.
He hadn't—
Had he?
He knew the voices.
Or thought he did.
Not the people.
The cadence.
The detached way they spoke.
Like the voices in the laboratory.
Original phenotype is gone.
Completely?
No spontaneous reversal.
Previous pattern?
Residual.
Adrian stared at the floor.
Had he heard that?
Actually heard it?
He remembered nothing like it.
But there had been hours—days, perhaps—when he had been drugged.
Sedated.
Half conscious.
Dreaming.
Maybe his brain had simply made it up.
Maybe it hadn't.
Adrian didn't know which possibility was worse.
“Do you need someone?”
Bruno's voice brought him back.
Adrian looked at the door.
“No.”
“All right.”
Bruno didn't leave.
Adrian knew because he could hear him.
A tiny shift of weight.
Fabric against the wall.
Breathing.
His hearing picked up all of it.
Bruno was simply standing outside.
Waiting.
Adrian looked at the wall display again.
Two days.
Two days here.
How long before that?
How long in the laboratory?
How long had Adrian Voss been gone?
His stomach tightened.
The question from before sleep returned.
Missing persons.
His mother might already be looking for him.
Jonas.
Mara.
Work.
Police.
Maybe everyone.
And after the dream, the need to know was no longer something he could push into tomorrow.
Adrian stood.
He walked to the door.
His hand rested on the lock.
For a second he hesitated.
Then he turned it.
The bolt withdrew.
Adrian opened the door.
Bruno stood several steps away.
He hadn't been leaning against it.
Hadn't been waiting directly outside.
He had given Adrian space even through a wall.
The bear looked at him.
His eyes moved briefly over Adrian's damp hair, pale face and shaking hands.
He didn't comment.
“Morning,” Bruno said.
Adrian glanced at the bright corridor.
“Apparently.”
Bruno's muzzle shifted.
Adrian suddenly had no idea how to begin.
Then his mother asked again inside his head.
Where is my son?
Adrian swallowed.
“I need you to look someone up.”
Bruno's expression changed slightly.
Not alarm.
Attention.
“All right.”
“A missing person.”
Bruno waited.
Adrian's mouth went dry.
He could stop.
Go back inside.
Wait another day.
Think of a better explanation.
There wasn't one.