Sanctuary Protocol

“You don’t realise how loud the world’s been until something reminds you it can still be quiet.”

Returning home to Jargus was the one piece of normality in a day that had been anything but normal, anything but sane. The instant I turned my key in the lock, before the mechanism had even fully disengaged, I heard his nails scrabbling excitedly against the hardwood floor on the other side. When the door swung open, releasing the latch, he was there—ninety pounds of German Shepherd enthusiasm barely contained, eyes bright and alert, tongue lolling from his mouth in happiness, tail sweeping in wide, jubilant arcs.

The simple, uncomplicated joy of his welcome cut through the complications of missing persons, mysterious women appearing and vanishing in toilet blocks, and the emotional aftermath with Sarah that still lingered in my conscience like an aftershock, making my chest tight with guilt I couldn't quite suppress.

"I'm sorry, Jargus," I said softly, crouching down to his level despite protesting knees that reminded me of every physical demand I'd put on my body today, accepting a few slobbery, enthusiastic kisses that covered my face. His breath was warm and doggy against my skin, his fur silky beneath my fingers as I scratched behind his ears in the exact spot that made his back leg start to kick. "I haven't been around for you much lately, have I?" I asked, though I knew I wouldn't get an answer beyond the contented rumble in his chest that vibrated against my hands.

The question was more for me than for him, an acknowledgment of neglect that extended beyond just today. Beyond just Jargus, if I was being honest. I seemed to be making a habit of failing the beings who depended on me.

Jargus pressed his substantial weight against my legs with such force he nearly toppled me over in his eagerness for sustained contact, for reassurance I was really here. His presence was a quiet reassurance in its consistency, a reminder of simpler joys that existed outside the chaos—a world where affection wasn't complicated by case files, professional boundaries, ethical violations, or unresolved mysteries that defied explanation. Where trust, once given, wasn't immediately weaponised or carelessly discarded.

The flat felt like a sanctuary after the day's events, despite its modest size. Though small and sparsely furnished in the way of someone who'd never quite settled into domestic life, it was mine—a space untouched by the madness that had consumed the hours since I'd left it that morning in what felt like another lifetime. The air inside was still and faintly scented with the familiarity of coffee and dog fur and old books.

I headed straight for the shower without pausing, shedding clothes as I went in a trail across the flat, leaving a breadcrumb path of damp, mud-stained fabric across the floor that I'd deal with tomorrow. The zip of my hoodie stuck on wet fabric, resisting until I forced it down with a frustrated grunt that made Jargus's ears perk. Turning the tap hot, I stepped under the spray before it had even fully warmed, letting the water wash over me, rinsing away the day's accumulated sweat and stress and grime that seemed to have seeped into my pores. The pressure pummelled my shoulders with welcome force, working into muscles knotted with tension that had been building for hours. Steam rose in billowing clouds, clouding the glass doors and fogging the mirror until my reflection disappeared completely.

Which was fine. I wasn't particularly interested in looking at myself right now.

The water felt like absolution I didn't deserve, a small oasis of calm in the storm of thoughts that wouldn't quiet. Each rivulet carried away a fragment of the day—mud from the forest floor that had somehow caked up my shins, tension from the confrontation with Claiborne that had started this spiral, the lingering phantom scent of Sarah that seemed to cling to my skin despite everything that had transpired afterwards. I closed my eyes, allowing my mind to empty if only for a moment, trying to find stillness.

Her face kept surfacing. The confusion. The hurt. The way she'd looked at me with such openness after we'd been intimate, expecting reciprocation I couldn't give. You can be such a prick sometimes, Karl.

As the steam filled the room, wrapping around me like a cocoon of warmth, the bathroom door creaked open on hinges that needed oil. The sound cut through the white noise of the shower, triggering an immediate defensive response that was pure instinct. My eyes snapped open, water streaming into them, and adrenaline surged through my system despite exhaustion, ready for whatever threat might be entering. My hand reached automatically for a weapon that wasn't there, muscles tensing for confrontation, fight-or-flight response engaged.

"Shit, Jargus!" I exclaimed with relief and a little laughter that was slightly hysterical, the tension draining away as quickly as it had risen once I recognised the intruder. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

There he was, sitting just outside the shower door like a patient sentinel, a clean towel held carefully in his mouth, the fabric already darkening with drool at the edges where his teeth gripped it. His ears were perked forward attentively, eyes watching my every move with an expectancy that bordered on theatrical impatience. His eagerness for bedtime was both endearing and amusing—this ritual as much a part of his routine as the morning run we'd missed today, as integral to his sense of order as meals at regular times.

Water dripped from my hair and face as I reached for the towel, trading it for a quick ruffle of his fur that made him lean into my hand. "Good boy," I murmured, the simple phrase inadequate for the comfort his predictable routines provided, for the constancy he represented in a day where everything else had spiralled into chaos.

With renewed appreciation for Jargus's simple, unwavering companionship that asked nothing of me except presence, I hastened through my nighttime routine. Teeth brushed until gums bled slightly, face washed with cold water that shocked against warm skin, the day's stubble left for tomorrow's concern when I might have steadier hands. My reflection in the mirror looked older than I remembered from this morning, the lines around my eyes deeper and more pronounced, the shadows beneath them darker and more permanent-looking. The man staring back at me seemed like a stranger, worn thin by the weight of unanswered questions and poor decisions that were accumulating faster than I could process them.

In bed, Jargus snuggled up against me immediately, his substantial weight creating a dip in the mattress that pulled me toward him gravitationally. His warmth and solid presence were a comforting anchor, a tether to reality when my thoughts threatened to spiral into conjecture and doubt and impossible speculations about women who appeared and vanished. His breathing established a rhythm, steady and reassuring in the quiet room, a metronome of normality.

Propped up with pillows behind my back, I attempted to do some last-minute research on my phone despite exhaustion pulling at my eyelids. The blue light was harsh in the darkness of the bedroom, casting strange shadows across the ceiling that seemed to move. My goal was to look up Killerton Enterprises… Again. But the day's exhaustion was overwhelming, settling over me like a physical weight that pressed me down into the mattress.

My eyes blurred, struggling to focus on the small screen, the letters swimming and doubling as I tried to read. The search term "Killerton Ent—" was as far as I managed to type before my eyelids grew impossibly heavy, each blink lasting longer than the one before, consciousness slipping away like water through my fingers. The phone slipped from my grasp, fingers too relaxed to maintain grip, landing softly on the duvet beside me as I slid down into the comfort of my bed, surrendering to sleep I could no longer fight.

As consciousness faded like a light dimming, Jargus adjusted his position with a contented sigh, his head coming to rest heavily on my chest, right over my heart, his steady heartbeat a counterpoint to my own. In those final moments before sleep claimed me completely, there was a simplicity and peace that had eluded me throughout the tumultuous day—a brief respite from questions and guilt and mysteries before they would begin anew with tomorrow's dawn.

If answers existed, they would have to wait.

For now, there was only warmth and breathing and the weight of a loyal dog who, unlike everyone else in my life today, I hadn't managed to hurt.

Yet.