The scan results came back just after midnight.
The doctor stood alone in the small viewing room, arms folded, eyes fixed on the illuminated images. Elias' brain lit up in shades of grey and ghostly white, every ridge and shadow carrying a question no one liked asking out loud.
"This doesn't make sense," he muttered.
Jonah sat behind him, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles had turned pale. He hadn't moved much since arriving. The jokes ran out faster than usual.
"Is that… good or bad?" Jonah asked.
The doctor didn't answer immediately. That alone was enough to spike Jonah's pulse.
"There's no sign of trauma," the doctor said finally. "No stroke. No bleeding. No swelling that would explain full motor shutdown."
"So his brain is fine," Jonah said, a little too quickly. "That's good, right?"
"Structurally," the doctor replied. "Yes."
Jonah exhaled. "Okay. See? Eli always had a solid head on his shoulders. Thick skull too. Took years of sarcasm training."
The doctor glanced at him, unimpressed but patient. "Functionally is another matter."
Jonah's mouth closed.
"The signals are being generated," the doctor continued. "We can see that. But somewhere between intention and execution, something is failing. It's like the body is refusing to listen."
"So… locked-in syndrome?" Jonah asked, voice quieter now.
The doctor shook his head. "Not quite. That's usually caused by very specific brainstem damage. This is… messier."
Jonah rubbed his face. "You're telling me he's trapped inside his own body with no instruction manual."
"That's one way to put it," the doctor said. "Another is that his nervous system is in a state of shutdown. Protective, maybe. Or reactive."
"Reactive to what?"
The doctor finally turned. "That's what we're trying to find out."
They walked back to Elias' room together.
Machines beeped steadily. The oxygen mask fogged faintly with each breath. Elias' chest rose and fell, slow but consistent, like he was pacing himself in a race no one else could see.
Jonah stood at the foot of the bed, studying him again. The longer he looked, the worse it felt.
"This isn't just exhaustion," Jonah said. "He didn't look like this last time I saw him."
"When was that?" the doctor asked.
Jonah hesitated.
"A week+ ago," he said. "He started pulling away. Cancelling plans. Saying he was busy, but… with how Eli is. Busy usually meant 'thinking too much and pretending it's productivity.'"
The doctor nodded, making a note.
"Any substance use?" the doctor asked. "Prescription, recreational, supplements?"
Jonah snorted. "The wildest thing he ever touched was black coffee. And that was already pushing it. Bro did not like caffeine or anything stimulating for years."
"What about stress?" the doctor pressed. "Emotional trauma? Sudden changes?"
Jonah's jaw tightened.
"There was… stuff," he said carefully. "He didn't talk about it much."
"But you noticed," the doctor said.
Jonah looked at Elias again. "Yeah. Hard not to."
As if on cue, Elias' fingers twitched. Just slightly. Enough to be unmistakable this time.
Jonah sucked in a breath. "Did you see that?"
"Yes," the doctor said calmly. "And it's important."
"Important how?"
"It tells us he's not deteriorating," the doctor replied. "But it also tells us he's fighting something."
Jonah laughed weakly. "Of course he is. Guy turns everything into a silent competition. Even paralysis."
The doctor allowed a small smile. "We're going to run more tests. Autoimmune markers. Metabolic panels. Rare neurological conditions."
Jonah blinked. "Rare, how rare?"
The doctor paused. "The kind that don't like being rushed."
That landed like a punch.
"So what happens now?" Jonah asked. "We just… wait?"
"No," the doctor said. "We monitor. Closely. And we need information."
He looked Jonah square in the eye.
"Anything you haven't told me could matter."
Jonah swallowed.
"There is someone," he said slowly. "Someone who… meant a lot to him."
The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Family?"
"No."
"Partner?"
Jonah shook his head. "Not officially. That's the problem."
The doctor didn't push, but Jonah continued anyway, words spilling now that the seal had cracked.
"He never said her name around us. Just… talked about her like she was gravity. Like everything bent a little toward her, whether he wanted it to or not. Coincidences that do not seem natural."
The doctor listened.
"And then one day," Jonah added, "he stopped talking about her entirely."
Silence settled over the room.
"That kind of emotional suppression," the doctor said gently, "can manifest physically. The body keeps score, as they say."
Jonah scoffed softly. "Figures. Even his feelings went underground."
A tear slid from Elias' eye then. Slow. Unannounced.
Jonah froze.
"Oh. Oh hell." He leaned closer. "Eli? You hear me, man?"
Elias couldn't respond. But his eyelid fluttered, betraying him.
Jonah's voice dropped. "You don't get to check out on us like this. Not without permission."
The doctor stepped in. "Emotional stimuli seem to provoke response. That's useful."
Jonah laughed bitterly. "Great. So guilt is medically helpful now."
"Sometimes," the doctor said. "It's a powerful motivator."
Jonah straightened, wiping his face. "Then you should know something else."
The doctor waited.
"I wasn't always honest with him," Jonah said. "About stuff that mattered."
"Such as?"
Jonah hesitated again, then shook his head. "Later. When I'm sure it won't make things worse."
The doctor studied him for a moment. "We don't have the luxury of later."
Before Jonah could respond, the monitor beeped sharply. Elias' heart rate spiked, then dipped.
The room snapped into motion.
"Nurse," the doctor called. "Prep for intervention."
Jonah stepped back as staff flooded in. Hands moved fast. Efficient. Professional. Elias' body jerked slightly, a reflexive spasm that sent a chill straight down Jonah's spine.
"This isn't supposed to happen," Jonah muttered.
The doctor didn't contradict him.
They stabilized Elias within minutes, but the air felt heavier afterward. Like something had crossed a line it couldn't uncross.
"We're admitting him to neurological observation," the doctor said. "Full-time. No more maybes."
Jonah nodded numbly. "Whatever he needs."
As the room quieted again, Jonah stayed behind. He leaned closer, voice barely above a whisper.
"You always said timing was everything," he said. "Guess now's a bad time to be right."
Elias' finger twitched again. Once. Deliberate.
Jonah managed a sad smile. "Yeah. I saw that. Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."
He paused.
"And when you wake up," he added softly, "we're gonna talk. About everything."
The machines continued their steady rhythm.
Outside the room, the hospital moved on. People laughed quietly. Someone dropped a cup. Somewhere down the hall, a woman spoke about heartbreak without knowing how close it brushed against something far more fragile.
Elias remained still.
Listening.
Waiting.
Very much alive.