4338.207 · July 26, 2018 AD
The One Thing I Haven't Broken
Clean underwear. A wound that's actually healing. A doctor who catches him half-dressed. And a dog who treats baths like assassination attempts but launches himself into an alien lagoon like he's auditioning for the Olympics. Jamie's first real day of recovery brings something he hasn't felt in months: uncomplicated joy—and a reminder of what love looks like when it isn't broken.
Some bonds survive everything.
Jamie wakes to find his wound healing faster than any infection should allow, his body finally willing to cooperate with simple tasks like standing upright. After Glenda's blessing—and an awkward encounter involving fresh underwear—he heads for the lagoon with Duke, testing whether yesterday's surrender has actually bought him something worth having.
What he finds is a dog discovering freedom. Duke launches himself into the water with fearlessness that leaves Jamie laughing for the first time in what feels like forever. Years of wrestling him through baths, and the little bastard paddles circles through an alien lagoon like he was born for it.
But when the shore crumbles and Jamie's feet slip beneath the surface, the lagoon reminds him that its gifts come with complications—that strange arousal, that whispered promise of new life. He scrambles back, heart pounding, desperate to keep this moment pure.
Later, on a sun-warmed rock with Duke's head on his stomach, Jamie makes a silent promise: whatever else happens, he won't fail this dog. Some partnerships are worth protecting.
