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ataraxiaspainting · 9 months ago

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Icarus.

Yan (Emperor) Zhongli x F Reader.

Synopsis: You were taught ever since you opened your eyes to never go against your god. So why do you wish now that you have never opened them at all?

Warnings: Yandere themes, major power imbalances, manipulation, future forced marriage, some violence/gore, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 3k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Little Dark Age by MGMT

As the World Caves In by Matt Maltese

The Other Side Of Paradise by Glass Animals

All Eyes On Me by Bo Burnham

Space Song by Beach House

Murders by Miracle Musical

Tongues & Teeth by The Crane Wives

Teacher’s Pet by Melanie Martinez

A Pearl by Mitski

Isabella’s Lullaby by Takahiro Obata

*~*~*~*

“‘You know that I love you.’ And despite herself, Coraline nodded. It was true. The other mother loved her. But she loved Coraline as a miser loves money, or a dragon loves its gold. In the other mother's button eyes, Coraline knew that the other mother loved her as a possession, nothing more, a tolerated pet whose behavior was no longer amusing.” – Neil Gaiman, Coraline

*~*~*~*

There is no sin greater than to be a bird.

To be a bird is to be devoid of all burdens, soaring above all who are shackled by them, like a warden overseeing prisoners, or the sweetest and ripest peaches up on the highest of branches so no one can reach it. They can go anywhere, birds, with the winds at their call, the very embodiment of freedom itself, something your god has taught all his people to be wary of. Freedom can be a blessing, he told one of his counselors once, but it can also cause humans to be too conceited. There is no sin greater than to be a bird because all others will be envious. Envy is also a sin, one so common that even Archons are said to possess it. Sin gives birth to more sin, more suffering, and thus only the original that birthed it all shall be punished by Celestia’s fury.

There is no greater sin than to be a bird, so the gods put in place cages, made to make those trapped by gold and chains and other things entirely. Birds who are not lured into such traps are dealt with by lightning, making them fall back down to the ground below, the last thing they see is the very sky that punished them. The sky, the stars, the moon, the sun… the entire world will be against you when you are a bird.

It will be that way until you die. The world hates birds and the way they fly and soar. Birds are meant for cages, or to be struck down with their corpses made into trophies.

There is no title greater than to be a hunter.

The sin; to be a bird, freedom… the title; to be a hunter, despotism.

To shoot, to stab, to twist until the prey bursts, is the way of someone whose greatest sin is doing good for this world.

To bleed, to be trapped, to be killed and put on display for all to see, that is what a bird’s purpose truly is, in the eyes of the divine.

They are different, quite so, like different ripples in lakes of mixed blood and water.

You can almost hear them, can’t you?

Celestia favors the strong. Celestia despises the weak. It makes sense to most people, those who were born into power be it money made from blood or strength made from blood. They don’t see the way the world works. The way flies feast upon rotting meat and are soon to be eaten by something bigger. It makes sense for most people, but not for you. Despite everything you have ever been taught from word of mouth, life on the streets teaches you otherwise. For everything you have endured, you have learned that you are not weak. In any case, quite the opposite.

You don’t pray anymore with everyone else, as they keep reciting such things over and over again at the states positioned throughout Liyue as if the emperor would listen to them.

“O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all!” They would hold hands with their bodies being placed in circles around the sculptures. They close their eyes altogether, to not see the sacrifices trapped between them at the monuments, the last thing they see is the Lord of Geo’s face, looking down at them with a stone-cold glare laced with eerie delight. “O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all! O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all!”

To be praying and to be preying are two quite different things, but to the people of Liyue, there is no difference. Blood seeps into the earth all the same, regardless of who sheds it. So, as evidence that the people of Liyue do indeed bow down to Celestia’s every whim, they bring birds of all kinds and steal them of all they have. Their feathers make for excellent clothing, their bones make for stellar weaponry, and their feet make for charms of good luck. Celestia only smiles down upon the strong, after all. Celestia despises freedom because, without the divine, humans would have nothing to leash them onto rationality and laws. Perhaps that is why Mondstadt is very much in chaos now. Their god was said to have betrayed Celestia by giving his people forbidden knowledge of how nature originally ran its course, causing an uproar among the citizens.

No one knows what happened to the god of Mondstadt after that.

Was he smitten down? Did his people turn on him? No one in Liyue knows for certain, as people of Mondstadt are forbidden from entering the land said to be made up of the purest of gold.

“O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all!”

That is the first thing you hear when you wake up, huddled in a corner to prevent yourself from getting even more wet from the rain. You assume that maybe it will be the last thing you hear when you close your eyes for good.

*~*~*~*

You grew up in Qiaoying Village and, once you grew up, got exiled from Qiaoying Village. You stood out, which no one saw in a good light. You were a mischievous, rule-breaking child, always stealing Jadevein Tea Eggs and both tea and tea sets made of fine porcelain. Your older brother taught you lessons far too valuable and unique for the traditionalist settings of Qiaoying Village, lessons like how to pick the elderly’s door’s locks, how to properly identify which pockets had the most Mora, and how to make alleyways a labyrinth for those who chase you.

Your older brother, though, did not partake in thievery himself. You suppose that might have been the first warning sign of many more to come. He made you, a child about half his age, do his dirty work for him. He always hoarded the rewards afterward, and if you got caught or he got caught with whatever treasure you had given him, he would pretend to scold you for going against the way of the Qiaoying. He said it was just pretend, but that look in his eyes still haunts you to this very day. As you got older, though, you got dumber. You crossed a line with everyone. You decided to steal from a Fontainian duke.

It was a foolish decision. Fontainians are known for their high sense of justice, and their tunnel vision when it comes to crimes and punishments. But you were just a child, were you not?

You couldn’t help it. You were just a child. That is what you told yourself then, and it is what you tell yourself now.

No one helped you then, and no one helps you now. Hell, it would be a miracle, a blessing from Celestia, if your older brother came to Liyue Harbor to visit you. But he never loved you, did he? He never loved you, and you never hated him until you saw him for what he truly is. A petty servant of Madam Mei with a spine thinner than that of a twig. He was a coward then, and likely still a coward now. Perhaps it would have been noble of him, while you were still an infant, to use that pocket knife he always carried around. It would have been better for you, for you to not know anything you know about him now.

But he was a coward, your older brother. The person who taught you everything about thievery is also now the person who taught you how important it is to keep your cards close. Life on the streets calls for both, you suppose. Liyue Harbor may not be the friendliest for the homeless, but at the very least it had pockets to swipe into when no one was looking. Old habits die hard. You ended up relying on every memory of the past, no matter how bitter or how deceivingly sweet they were. You bore it. You bore it all. Every memory, every fragment of a lie, and every fragment of a half-truth. Life is never so simple after all, is it?

Your life was never perfect, and therefore still is not now. But you know deep in your heart that you would prefer this life over seeing your older brother’s face ever again.

But now, with eyes brighter than amber staring above you as you lay, your arm broken, you wish that your brother had taught you some fighting skills instead of everything else he taught you.

But he was a coward, and so are you.

To be fair, though, he never met the emperor and never thought that he would. So did you. No one in Qiaoying Village did, most likely. It was so far from the proclaimed harbor made of gold and trader’s blood and prayers. This was where the emperor lived, in his castle in the mountains surrounding Lingju Pass and Mount Tianheng. It was made up of the finest gold and wood and jewels. Only the best for the emperor, while people like you get mere pebbles. That is why, when you saw yet another stranger in a white cloak roaming around the alleyways, you attempted to strike. Your mistake.

Your mistake.

You were on the ground in an instant, your arm breaking so loudly an elderly man on his deathbed could hear it.

The stranger’s eyes glittered like gold.

Frozen gold, perhaps, with how he was staring down at you with such disappointment.

So, he stared down at you.

You stared down at your arm.

You should have known better. But you are just someone trying to live, are you not? It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. But that white cloak the man is wearing with the sigil of geo on the back, one of the few symbols of the emperor himself, should have made you not attempt to pickpocket him. You should have known better. You really should have known better. Should you apologize? You are already as good as dead though, aren’t you?

Does a death sentence await you?

Life? Death? Prison? Life. Death. Prison.

Escape.

You have to escape.

But the emperor seems to know what you are doing, what you are planning.

So he stops you with a simple hand raised, and pillars of geo appear out of nowhere, trapping you in the corner. Now there is nowhere to run.

He stares down at you.

You stare down at your feet, all mangled up from a life made of thievery and poverty.

He doesn’t speak. Neither do you. You prefer it that way.

You are in a cage. But he is not.

Please.

Please don’t kill me.

Please.

*~*~*~*

Is it a sin to indulge? Perhaps it is, perhaps it is not. Perhaps it depends. Is the indulgence centered in reality or fantasy? This escape attempt, perhaps, is both.

Like the many that came before it, the only sounds you can hear is the rain, the water falling from the glass windows like teardrops, and sometimes you can swear you hear the sound of someone weeping. Despite everything you have gone through though, you do not weep with them, whoever they are. You only keep stepping on ahead for a brighter future, one where you sneak off to Sumeru, a land that prioritizes knowledge over riches. You’d have a better life there than here, you think. Anywhere but here you would run off to actually, even if it was Snezhnaya.

You are treated well, too well.

You still don’t know why instead of throwing you in the dungeons, Morax placed your unconscious body in one of the many, many guest rooms that were spread about in his castle.

You are treated far too well, almost to the point that it is maddening. Everything is so perfect, from the morning birds outside your window that wake you up every morning when it just so happens to be time for breakfast to the hairbrush you use to put your hair up when it is time to sleep, the design intricately laced with jade and topaz. Perfect, perfect, perfect. It’s maddening, sickening, how perfect everything is. You wish he had just put you in a cell because at least then everything would not have been so planned out for you, even the type of flowers you saw in the gardens that week.

“Damn it all…”

In your opinion, the clothes you received today were more intricate than usual. The sleeves are puffed and transition from white to a deep teal color. The dress itself showcases delicate lace patterns of glaze lilies around the waist and wrists, while the skirt is impractically long for any running. Strangely, the inside of the skirt features a constellation pattern, though it seems to be a design meant for your eyes alone. The purpose of this starry sky motif remains unclear. The dress, like everything else, appears flawless and fits you perfectly, almost as if it was tailored specifically for you. Given Morax's wealth, you can't help but entertain the possibility. However, the overwhelming perfection of it all borders on madness. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect, so damn perfect.

Today, you were not given shoes, presumably due to the rain and the consequent cancellation of your garden visit with Morax, where you typically indulge in tea and wine. As you approached the staircase leading to the dining room, however, the guards obstructed your path. Their actions were gentle, but their words were not. They formed a human barricade, preventing your descent. One guard clicked their tongue disapprovingly, while the other remained silent. Perhaps they harbored some disdain towards you. The servants in this establishment either treated you with utmost care or completely disregarded your presence, so it was not entirely surprising that the guards displayed a semblance of dislike.

The real surprise was you not being allowed to go to the dining room to eat.

“The emperor wants you to stay in your room for the time being. He shall see you shortly there.”

So, you went back, albeit muttering curses along the way. Due to your lack of shoes and the guards not even allowing you to go downstairs, this escape attempt is as short-lived as a moth flying much too close to a flame.

As you were told, Morax came in his usual attire, black and brown robes with a geo sigil on the back.

“...”

“I have been told that you have been getting a bit too curious with your wandering.”

Ah, straight to the point, it would seem.

There is no point trying to beat around the bush when it comes to Morax. “It is not like there is anything else to do here.”

He sits beside you on the bed, not too close but not too far either. A perfect balance. “I can give you other activities to do if you would like. I can also answer some questions you have since you’ll be living here from now on.”

“...This isn’t temporary…” You look down at the arm he broke, a time which feels like a millennium ago. “Am I being charged?” Your question is quietly said. “Aren’t thieves simply sent to cells for a few moons?”

His chuckle was unexpected, causing a slight surprise. Morax, who was typically expressionless, wore a smile on his face. Despite the possibly good intentions behind it, the sight and sound were unsettling and made your skin crawl.

“...You don’t tell me anything.” You whisper under your breath. That much is clear. Despite Morax's little attempts to conceal it, his secrecy is unmistakable. You can't help but feel like a naive child stating the obvious.

“You are here for multiple reasons. For instance… you remind me of someone. As such, you must have questions, if you are anything like her.” His eyes glaze over you, from the top of your head where your hair is half put up with a hairpin to the anklet just hovering over your right foot. “All humans are born with an innate sense to pry. I won’t judge, as I am an Archon.” Are his words heartfelt? “Through my veins flow gold, but yours flow with sanguine, life, and desires.”

His hand reaches forward, but he does not touch you. “You must see yourself as better than us because of this. Am I correct?”

“My feelings are not as monochrome as they seem to you. They are complex, quite so. But you are right, in some regard.”

“This is why I cannot stand the so-called divine.”

“Another reason as to why you are here. You are a sleeper of such, and I intend to help you open your eyes to the truth.”

You look at his eyes, seeing all the horrors within their depths.

The emperor known as Morax possesses eyes of pure gold, along with attractive features and pale, rosy lips that curl into a sickly sweet smile. Your body instinctively reacts, urging you to flee before your mind can fully comprehend the situation. However, your brain, awakening and analyzing the situation, is interrupted by the overpowering force of instinct, echoing the same warning as your body: the charming smile is a mere facade, reminiscent of something unsettlingly artificial. It is akin to a sculpture with painted skin and eyes or a doll with exaggerated, intricate features. This man, with his literal golden eyes, his potentially persuasive words, and his captivating yet unnerving countenance, is someone you cannot trust.

Desperate to escape, you attempt to run, only to find that arms and hands, seemingly made of stone, emerge from the walls, gripping and restraining your own. Two of these strong hands ascend, slithering towards the center of your back, forcefully pushing you down into a bow, while you remain compelled to gaze upwards. Your focus remains fixated solely on the emperor's eyes, observing the eloquent patterns of gold within them.

The caress of their touch is tender upon your cheeks, unlike solid ones that demand for you to stay.

“You shall become my consort and see the gates of Celestia for yourself. Humans are made to worship, after all. The divine are made to simply awaken those who have strayed off the path of destiny.”

*~*~*~*

To possess the gift of sight, encompassing all, is the gravest transgression one can commit. Thus, those winged creatures who lack this awareness are banished to the depths of the earth, their vision, their literal eyes stripped away until their cries reverberate to the surface, where the emperor Morax shall pronounce the ultimate verdict.

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maevefiction · 6 years ago

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Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 47

We stood outside the Paddle Room after texting Sammy to let him know we’d arrived, waiting for him to give us the okay once he’d gotten everything in place for our entrance. The makeup Veronica had so artfully applied was gonzo, replaced with what amounted to a hack job in comparison, courtesy of yours truly. The bun had drooped considerably so I’d abandoned that as well, leaving my hair hanging in loose waves that brushed my collar bones. Tom and I kept glancing each other and shaking our heads in disbelief, then smiling, then frowning. We’d decided that we should use this opportunity to share our news, as a sonogram to determine how far along I actually was would happen as soon as I could get someone in LA to fit me into their schedule, at which point a leak would likely be inevitable…thus, it seemed to be a ‘better they hear it from us’ scenario. WHEN to share it was the question, and we were concerned that those closest to us might be offended they hadn’t been told first. Tom’s phone chirped, and we opened the doors to listen for our cue. The low tones of something classical I couldn’t quickly identify faded, followed by Sammy’s voice booming over the sound system.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for…allow me to introduce, for the very first time…MR. AND MRS. HIDDLESTON!”

We’d requested La Roux’s ‘Tigerlily’ be played as we came in, starting at the first chorus, but instead, there was silence. Everyone was standing around the outer edge of the dance floor, facing us, but there was no applause, no congratulatory shouts…nothing. I turned to Sammy’s DJ station and noticed he wasn’t alone…next to him was Simon, microphone in hand, and I heard music start and he began to sing ‘Stand By Me’. After the first verse, the entire room joined in, and it wasn’t until they'd almost finished that I comprehended why they were doing it. Even though we’d practically just done a shoot for the media as a result of the Claudia debacle, it had completely slipped my mind. Honestly, yesterday felt like a lifetime ago from where I stood, but the sentiment was so beautiful and having the support of so many people, many of whom had either just met or barely knew me, fostered such a sense of belonging, of family…and so, of course, I fucking cried again. When I looked up at Tom he, too, was bawling, which made me feel that my tears were seemingly justifiable. Either that or we’d just morphed into a new phase of our existence, wherein if we were a band I’d christen us The Weepers. We’d play totally emo stuff, with songs like ‘Cry, Cry, Cry’ and ‘All Day Sob Song’. The applause began once the song ended, accompanied by whistles and cheers. Through my tears I raised my left eyebrow at Tom, and he responded with a shrug, then nodded as he darted over to Simon and snatched the microphone from his hand. He walked back to my side as he began to speak.

“Thank you all so much for that, and for being here with us. Maude and I are so very, very blessed to have you in our lives, and sharing this day, one which I wouldn’t have thought could possibly be more meaningful, more joyful, or more…more…” Watching him, I could tell he’d totally lost his train of thought, so I reached out and touched his hand lightly. He turned to look at me, and when I smiled, he smiled, and resumed. “Anyway. Since we’re all here in one place, gathered together in celebration, we’d like to share some news with you, if you don’t mind. Mrs. Hiddleston, would you like to do the honors?”

He handed me the mic, which left me no way out, and my eyes moved from one side of the room to the other, noting the varied expressions of our guests and imagining how they’d change in a matter of seconds. I swallowed, then cleared my throat.

“Well, this is totally out of line as far as decorum goes, probably, and it’s still really early in the game, but we wanted you to hear it from us before it leaks…so…” Another swallow, followed by a very long, deep breath. “I…I…uh…I’m…um…” Tom’s lips grazing my cheek, while a well-intentioned act, only served to make things worse. I met his gaze and mouthed the words ‘help me’, and the grin that lit up his face as he leaned down toward the microphone was both ridiculously sweet and disturbingly sexy.

“What my radiantly beautiful wife is attempting to tell you is that…” He paused, taking the mic from me as he stood upright. “She’s pregnant.”

A chorus of ‘oh my gods’, some peppered with profanity, rang out, as well as more ‘I knew its’ than I would have expected, two of which I recognized as Simon’s and Anne’s. We were quickly surrounded by well-wishers, Simon being the first to reach me, latching on to my forearms and literally jumping up and down with glee.

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT!” He stopped jumping to embrace me, then leaned back to give me a once-over. “Luke told me you barfed yesterday, you thought you were going to barf on our way to get dressed, and then you barfed again in the grass and I was like wow, she’s been a little nutty lately, I wonder…”

He escaped a punch to the gut only because Anne shoved him aside side in order to place a hand on either side of my face and add her two cents. “I knew when you thanked me for praying.” I sighed, and she smiled widely. “I jest, my dear. I just…knew, as soon as I saw you. I can’t explain it, but I did. The throwing up after the ceremony was confirmation. I remember that feeling.”

I shook my head. “Soooo…am I the only one who, like, had no fucking clue? Because it’s starting to seem that way.”

Simon side-eyed me, lips pressed together tightly. “Are you trying to tell me you DIDN’T KNOW?” Haven’t you been tracking this minute by minute? How could you not know?”

“No, I’m not TRYING to tell you…I AM telling you. It didn’t even enter my mind as a possibility. Because I put April’s info on the May calendar and…”

He crossed his arms, an open-mouthed smirk upon his face, well aware that there was some piping hot tea about to be spilled. “Oh Maude, honey, this is too GOOD. If you had no idea…how did this whole finding out thing, you know, happen? And more importantly, WHEN?”

Next to me Diana, Emma, and Sarah had been congratulating Tom, but were now standing and listening, along with whomever else was within range of my voice. Tom was trying to suppress a grin and failing epically. I rolled my eyes.

“Weellll…my incredibly perceptive husband totally knew and…”

Tom interjected. “To be clear, I didn’t know. I suspected.”

I flipped him the bird, which elicited a deep chuckle. “He suspected. For quite some time, apparently. And after my most recent regurgitation spectacle, he decided to broach the subject, since, you know, I hadn’t. I was all NO WAY DUDE NOT POSSIBLE YOU ARE INCORRECT then I pulled out my phone and suddenly it WAS possible so we sent Melanie out to buy a test while we did photos and a test wound up being six tests and we couldn’t make ourselves wait until after the reception so we literally found out twenty minutes ago or something and here we are and please tell me I didn’t miss the pizza bagels because I’m starving and I NEED the pizza bagels.”

Simon took my hand and began to lead me to our table. “Out of the way, people. Ravenous pregnant lady coming through.” Tom had followed and pulled out my chair for me, then pushed me in as I sat down. He ran off, and Simon sat down in the chair to my right, teary-eyed and smiling. “Well, I think you’ve outdone MY wedding, which is incredibly rude and I hate you for it. But seriously…I am so, so happy for you. Beyond happy. How far along are you, do you think?”

“Six or seven weeks? That’s just a guess…I’m going to see someone as soon as we get to LA to confirm, though.”

He counted on his fingers. “So you’re due mid-to-late February, then. Fuck me, we’re actually going to have babies together. I can’t. I need more booze for this. You stay here while I hit up the bar, Mrs. Hiddleston.”

As I waited, I glanced around the room, the decorations reminding me that I was sitting at the head table at my wedding reception. My ability to focus had been rendered to near zero, and I hoped I wouldn’t be left alone for too long lest I accidentally set something on fire or inadvertently destroy the universe. A plate of at least a dozen pizza bagels magically appeared on the tabletop before me, the bright silver band on the purveyor’s left hand spurring a stream-of consciousness recognition – this is my husband, who has brought me food, and we are having a baby. He sat in the seat to my left, and I turned to him, smiling, in all likelihood, as if I were a complete moron.

“Hi. I love you. You brought me pizza bagels. We’re having a baby.”

He grinned. “Hi yourself. I love you too. I did. Yes, we are. Have I mentioned lately that you’re alarmingly adorable?”

I shook my head as I snatched a bagel off the plate. “I don’t know. I’m like…” My snack-less left hand rose to ear-height, then flung up and outward with fingers extended as I mimed ‘mind blown/vacant’ as best I could. “None of this feels real. Maybe I need some coffee. Shit, can I still drink coffee? My condolences to all of you if I cannot. Also, I’ve been drinking it the entire time…is that bad? Good lord…I know nothing, Jon Snow. I need a tutor. Send in the moms.”

He grabbed my right wrist gently, guiding my hand to my mouth. “Eat, love. What you really need is fuel to burn.”

As long as I live, I’ll never forget that first bite of wedding-day pizza bagel. On a scale of one to Carnegie Deli Cheesecake, it was Spinal Tap crank it to eleven delicious. The rest were gone in just a few minutes, and as I opened my mouth to ask Tom if he’d go fetch me a few more along with an ice-cold soda, Sammy announced that everyone should proceed to their tables as dinner was about to be served. One by one the members of our wedding party stopped to congratulate us before they took their seats, and Diana paid me a visit before she joined her own table. She leaned down to embrace me, bursting into tears as she began to pat my back.

“The day I get to officially welcome my new daughter into the family, I’m blessed with the news that the family is expanding even further. What an incredible, wondrous thing…and how lucky we all are to have you, Maude.”

I squeezed her tightly, crying as well. “Thank you, Diana. You’ve all welcomed me into the fold, and I’m so grateful for it. Thank you, again.”

The staff arrived, carrying trays of drinks, soup and salad. By the time they returned with the family-style main course I’d begun to feel more like myself, grounded and present as opposed to being off in la-la land. The initial conversation had revolved around our announcement, but gradually shifted to more everyday things…a bright spot of normalcy in a week filled with chaos. When I realized that it had been only yesterday morning that the Claudia story broke, and that the insanity was not far beyond thirty-six hours old, I felt like I’d been caught in a time-stretch because it seemed that the duration had to be vastly greater. I took my first bite of fettuccine Alfredo at that point, which rendered everything else moot, and the noise I made when the sauce hit my taste buds prompted Tom to slide his hand up my dress under the table, stopping just short of the danger zone when the sound of clinking glasses all around the room demanded that we kiss. Again. For like, the fifteenth time. I shifted forward, hoping to connect and get some quick hand action in, but the bastard pulled away, trailing his fingers slowly down my inner thigh as his tongue exited my mouth.

I pointed my fork in the air, at no one and everyone all at once, voicing my displeasure loudly. “If you all want the bride and groom to hang around past the cake cutting, you need to STOP. DOING. THAT.”

Robert shouted from two tables over. “A toast to Mr. and Mrs. Hiddleston, whom I predict will wind up needing the third-row-seating SUV model in order to transport their brood in its entirety in the not-so-distant future. Or maybe a mini-van…and if that van’s a rockin’…”

Tom yelled back, with a bunch of other hooligans joining in. “Don’t come a knockin’!”

I leaned forward, head in my hands, but was soon disturbed by a tap on my shoulder. I turned and glanced up to discover Melanie, fulfiller of wishes great and small.

“Speaking of cake cutting…would you like to do that now, or should we wait a bit?”

The woman left no stone unturned, and I was touched by her thoughtfulness, taking into account that my digestive system was essentially an active volcano at this juncture, prone to erupt with little to no warning. Admittedly I was nearly full, but…cake. There’s always room for cake. Or any other food from the dessert category. As I imagined the sugary goodness that was buttercream frosting, I rose from my chair.

“Now, please and thank you. Cake. Yes.”

Tom had been engrossed in conversation with Luke, and my sudden movement startled him. He peered up at me, eyes wide. I leaned down, my nose nearly touching his.

“Caaaaaaaaaaaaaakkkkkkkkkkkeeeeeeeeee.”

He laughed as he stood, placing a hand on my lower back as Melanie ushered us to the cake table, which had gone unnoticed in the whirlwind of our entrance. “You know I’m picturing that cartoon panel you’ve shown me right now, the stick-ish figure in the pink dress with the yellow hair?”

“Allie Brosh. Mmm hmm. The woman’s a comedic genius. Did I ever show you Simple Dog?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“Really? My god, how could I be so negligent? Those are laugh until you can’t breathe hilarious. Next plane ride, that’s what we’re doing, m’kay? We can probably wade through her entire repository travelling back and forth to Australia over the next few months, and…holy fuck, look at the CAKE.”

It was exactly how I’d envisioned it, and as I examined the text on the spines and worked my way to the middle I was floored by the fact that Tom and I had not only combined our own stories, but as they’d merged we’d begun to write the very first chapter in the book of someone else’s life, a brand new someone else whose life had sparked into existence within…me. I looked to him, shaking my head.

“Dude, I don’t know if I’m ever going to get used to this whole pregnant thing.”

He laughed. “Maybe you should give it more than a few hours to sink in?”

“Excellent advice. But still…it’s BANANAS.”

“Agreed. I must admit that I feel a bit like I’m on a movie set today, because this day has simply been too extraordinary to be reality. You always hear people pinpointing their wedding as one of the best days of their lives, but I couldn’t quite buy into it, and yet…as of now, it’s an indisputable fact. For me.”

I slipped an arm around his waist and rested my head on his shoulder. “Me too. It’s over-the-top schlocky and romantic, but I am SO here for it. Which I will vehemently deny if questioned. Just so you know.” I poked him in the ribs with my free hand. “You gonna cut that cake or what?”

Tom took the silver cake knife from its spot on the table, grabbed one of the white plates, then carved a slice from the left tier and handed it to me. That was my side, his was the right, and he cut himself a piece from there next. The room had gone quiet, all eyes on us, wondering if we’d play it safe or start a cake-smearing war. We each broke off a small piece of our slice with our fingers, and I concluded that the places I’d most enjoy smearing things on him were currently off limits, so simply feeding it to him would have to do. He opened his mouth like a baby bird, and as I placed the cake on his tongue I thought I’d chosen wisely until he curled it around my fingers, covering them with cake which he proceeded to lick off. Slowly, eyes locked on mine the entire time. I mouthed the words ‘you fucker’, then pulled my hand free.

He grinned at me as he licked his lips, then raised his hand and moved it toward my mouth, which I opened, intending to return the favor and make things worse by sucking on his fingers. The opportunity did not, however, arise, as he ‘dropped’ the piece of cake onto my cleavage and then…ate it off. When he finished and stood upright, I pointed down at my boobs.

“Hold up…I think you missed some.” Loud raucous laughter filled the space, and I broke off another piece of my slice and popped it into my mouth. The buttercream frosting was ludicrously tasty and caused an immediate sugar rush to course throughout my body. A member of the waitstaff handed Tom and I forks while others began dismantling the tiers so they could be cut and served to our guests. We ate our first slices standing, then helped ourselves to another and went back to eat them at our table. Coffee and tea were offered, but I was still unsure of the caffeine situation so I had water instead, which was precisely as lame as it sounds, but my brain had still been too addled to think to ask for milk or juice. As folks began to mill about, Luke stood up from his chair next to Tom and clinked his glass with his fork loudly. Sammy ran over to hand him a microphone, and Luke cleared his throat loudly, then began to speak.

“Hello everyone. I’m reasonably sure you all know who I am.” He paused amid lots of nods and soft chuckles. “Tom and I have been part of each other’s lives for almost a decade, both personally and professionally. He’s been, in both those arenas, an inspiration to me and his success has motivated me to work towards achieving my own goals. No matter what I’ve ever needed, he’s always been there, ready and willing to help in any way he possibly can. He’s a gifted performer, a humanitarian, incredibly witty, generous, loving, kind, and he possesses a wickedly delightful sense of humor. Within our business relationship, we don’t always see eye to eye, but we always try to value one another’s perspective. One year ago today, we were at an impasse with no solution in sight. I’d accompanied him to Kauai as he was due to begin a shoot and there happened to be a seminar taking place here that I’d been trying to fit into my schedule for a few years, and after attending I contacted the speaker because I thought perhaps she might be able to set Tom and I on the path to an equitable solution. To make a long story short, she did, she came to work with me and propelled Prosper to a level I might otherwise have never reached, and, most importantly, she’s made my best friend a very, very happy man.”

Simon clapped loudly. “That she has, my sister from another mister. She delights me endlessly.” He leaned forward and looked up at Luke around Tom and me. “OHHHH, you meant TOM. So sorry. Do go on.”

Luke rolled his eyes, shaking his head and smiling. “Anyway. Over the course of that day, one year ago, I watched two people falling in love, right in front of me. Two people who’d been made to be together, but had yet to cross paths. It was such a beautiful thing to behold…and here we are today, celebrating not only their marriage, but the beginning of their journey into parenthood. Please, do join me in a toast to two people I love very dearly, two people I am blessed to have in my life. To Maude and Tom!” He raised his glass, as did everyone else while echoing his words.

Simon was on his feet before Luke even sat down, waving to everyone with both hands. “Hi hi hi. So. I met Maude Gallagher in the living room of a gorgeous beach house here on the island, and I knew straight away that we were going to be the best of friends. Speaking of straight…if that’s what I happened to be, I would have beaten Tom to the punch and asked her to marry ME. The woman is a force of nature…she’s a genius, she’s hilarious, she’s snarky, she’s sarcastic, and she’ll gleefully verbally eviscerate anyone and everyone who stands in her way, the way of those she loves, or those she’s contractually obligated to represent.” The crowd laughed. “Now this bit, she won’t appreciate at all…she’s also giving, loving, thoughtful, empathetic, and…kind.”

I yelled, hands cupped around my mouth. “Shut the fuck UP, Simon. You’ll ruin my rep!” Another round of laughter ensued, continuing even as he started speaking again.

“We are kindred spirits. Our birthdays are one day apart, and we were born in the same year. You’re going to have to guess which one because I am NOT telling you. Anyway. I just love her to pieces, and I’m so grateful that she chose me to be her Person of Honor, and incredibly humbled that I was the one who came to mind when she was in need of someone to walk her down the aisle.” He’d begun to sniffle quietly. “I’m such a lucky, lucky man to have her…oh, and Tom! Tom! Beautiful, wonderful Tom! You’re doing AMAZING, sweetie. Both of them. I’m so lucky to have both of them in my life, to have their love…and they have mine, forever. Cheers, my friends, as you embark on this journey you’ve allowed me to share. May each day going forward bring you more joy than the one before. To Maude and Tom!”

After the applause concluded, Sammy announced that it was time for our first dance, and we took our place out on the floor, singing loudly to each other as ‘Adventure of a Lifetime’ played. A third of the way through people began to join us, and by the end everyone was singing and dancing like fools, which became the theme of the evening. When the festivities began to wind down and it was time for Tom and me to make our great escape, I was both exhausted and elated and unsure of which state would win out once we got back to the room. When he picked me up and carried me over the threshold, I knew it would be the former, and we both barely had enough energy to get ourselves undressed. He pulled back the covers and we flopped into bed, snuggling into spoon position, falling asleep with both our left hands resting on my lower belly, his on top of mine, fingers notched in an attempt to sate the overwhelming desire to connect with each other and the tiny miracle we’d made together.

****************************************

The entirety of Thursday had been spent lazing around and hanging out with friends and family, as most were heading out on Friday. Checkout time was eleven AM, and we both wanted to be present to extend our thanks and say goodbye. Tom had gotten up at eight-thirty in order to squeeze in a run, but my body said ‘bitch, stay down’, so after he kissed me goodbye and left the room I set my phone alarm for ten-fifteen on the off chance that he got caught up chatting and didn’t come upstairs to wake me. Going back to bed had always been one of my favorite things to do…it’s like the ultimate fuck off to the world and all the responsibilities it holds. Granted, I didn’t think I’d ever done it as well as Peter Gibbons in Office Space, but it always felt enormously satisfying. Today had been no exception, other than that I’d woken up at nine-thirty after dreaming I’d heard sirens. There hadn’t seemed to be any here in the real world, so I got up to pee and hoped I’d remain groggy enough to get at least another half-hour of sleep. Passing the dresser, I noticed that there were two keycards on top of it, Tom apparently having forgotten his. I sighed as I entered the bathroom.

“Yeah, that half-hour is so not happening. But, bright side – breakfast!”

As I was washing my hands, there it was…the knock of the keyless husband. I yelled that I’d be right there, then slipped on my robe. He hadn’t responded, which was unusual, but it was still on the early side, so perhaps he was just being considerate. Unlike me, loud shouty woman in room 203. I turned the handle downward and pulled the door open, smirking widely.

“Forgot your key again, did you? You’re going to have to make…”

The person waiting in the hallway was…not Tom. It was a woman with long, straight dark hair. She was very thin, much taller than me and wearing a UNICEF T-shirt with khaki hiking shorts and white Keds. As my focus shifted to her face, it dawned on me precisely who I was looking at...in spite of the dyed hair, there was no disguising those eyes and that perfect Cupid’s bow mouth. Claudia. In her left hand was a medium-sized gift bag, and in her right, a small semi-automatic pistol. I watched, time slowing down to something akin to frame-by-frame as that hand rose and the gun moved up and up until it was pointing at me. I heard a voice inside my head screaming ‘close the door, close the door’ but I was frozen in place, the thought ‘she’s going to shoot me now’ eclipsing all other internal messages, and then I heard a man’s voice yelling for her to drop her weapon. That broke the spell and I began to push the door shut, but she charged forward and slammed her body weight against it, knocking me back a bit, but I knew if I didn’t engage the lock this was all over…I was all over…so I pushed back with all the force I could muster, leading with my right shoulder, bare feet planted apart, toes digging into the carpet. Whichever emotion was propelling her was no match for the adrenaline of my own fight or flight response, nor the thirty pounds or more by which I outweighed her. I heard Sharon Carter in Civil War quoting Aunt Peggy, something that had brought me to tears in the theater, and in this horrific instant it gave me the momentum I needed to get the job done. No. YOU move. The door shut with a click, and as I heard a scream of frustration from the other side I fastened the bolt, and just as I stopped to catch my breath the sound of three shots fired in rapid succession followed by another single shot shortly thereafter made my ears ring. I waited for pain, looking down and expecting blood flowers to blossom in the white silk of my robe, and when none appeared I glanced up at the door there were three dents, but that was all…no holes in it, or in me. Steel. It was steel, and I almost collapsed in peals of hysterical laughter until I heard more voices calling for an ambulance, and that’s when I realized I had no idea where Tom was. That, as logic demanded, rolled over to ‘he should have been back by now…did she get to him first?’ and my vision dimmed, followed by a quick descent into unconsciousness.

Simon calling my name was the first thing I heard as I came to, and as my eyes fluttered open his fully-dilated pupils and panicked expression caused me to panic as well…I sat straight up from where I’d landed on the carpet, and he reached behind me to assist me as I sank back down, paralyzed by dizziness.

“Easy. Easy. Take it slow. You’re all right, I think you just fainted. It’s okay. The paramedics will be here soon to look you over.” I knew what he meant, and though I had no idea how much time had passed, his words comforted me…as did the fact that I didn’t feel anything abnormal going on down below, no cramping, no bleeding…nothing had changed. “I’m not certain how long you’ve been out for, but it took me ten minutes to argue my way through the fucking crime scene to get to you…”

I reached out my hand, and he took it in his own after placing a soft kiss on my knuckles. And then, once again, Tom’s absence was all encompassing and my words caught in my throat as I spoke, then finally burst out, my intonation wildly off kilter. “T..om. Whe…re…”

Simon’s face fell, expression darkening until he realized I’d zeroed in on his face with my gaze, at which point I could clearly see him trying to force the mask back in place. I sat up again, fueled once more by pure adrenaline, my voice my own again.

“Tell me. Just tell me, Simon. Don’t fucking sugarcoat it. Don’t lie. Just tell me.”

He swallowed hard. “Luke’s with him. I don’t have any updates on his condition other than he was still conscious when they arrived at the hospital. Two bullet wounds, right side of his chest.”

I could have never, ever envisioned hearing those words spoken about someone I loved. But, that’s likely how anyone who ever does hear such a thing feels…even those whose loved ones put themselves in harm’s way each and every day to keep others safe. I wanted to pretend I hadn’t, that I was mistaken, because it was too…too much, too awful, too terrifying…a cascade of emotions washed over me, and I began to wish that the earth would just open up and swallow me. A brief bout of déjà vu followed…I’d been here before, when Erik had died…and in that, I found my strength, because now, hope still remained. I latched on to the word ‘conscious’, made it my mantra, and rose from the floor just as the paramedics walked in, gurney in tow. The one in front was a young man, twenty-five at most, and while I figured he’d seen his share of awfulness, something had clearly disturbed him as he was white as a sheet. Behind him was a woman, early forties if I had to guess, slightly on the heavy side, her blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail that swung back and forth as she quickly shut the door behind her. I remembered there’d been four shots in total and that only three had hit the door, and the words were out of my mouth before I could even consider not speaking them.

“Did they shoot her? I hope they fucking shot her. I hope she’s dead. Is she dead? She should be so lucky…because if anything happens to my husband I’ll kill her myself, and…”

Simon stepped in front of me, shaking his head slowly, hands held up in front of him. “Please understand that she’s not herself right now…” Which was utter bullshit, because I’d meant those words, and he knew it, but it dawned on me that saying such a thing was decidedly unwise and I hopped aboard his train of lies, lowering my head and covering my face with my hands.

“I’m so sorry…” The woman came over and asked me to please sit on the bed so she could take my vitals, but I refused, and then signed a release indicating that I was refusing all treatment. Simon side-eyed me as they left the room, but I ignored him, instead rifling through my suitcase to pull out undergarments, shorts, and a T-shirt, then dressed right in the middle of the room. My Birkis were under the desk, and as I slipped them on Simon cleared his throat.

“Maude, don’t you think you should have…”

“No. I’m fine. I need a soda, but other than that…fine. I’ve had a miscarriage. I know what it feels like. All I can do is try to stay as calm as possible, and even with that…it’s beyond my control. But if I’m going to stay calm…I need to get to Tom.” I turned to face him. “In order to do that I’m going to have to get past whomever and whatever’s outside that door without incident. Is that a reasonable scenario, in your opinion? Or should I start tying the sheets together so you can lower me down from the balcony? Because getting arrested at this juncture is unacceptable.”

He stared at me, and I figured he might be having one of those ‘wow I thought I knew this person but fuck me not so much’ moments, but then the corners of his mouth turned up just the tiniest bit for a fraction of a second and I knew that even if it did come to sheet tying, he was there for it. The corners took a downturn and remained that way as he answered.

“Claudia’s dead. When I came through everything was still…still…there and I know what you said but it might make you uncomfortable if you see it because…” He paused, face contorting as he carefully considered his next words. “I can’t be positive, but it sure looked to me like she did herself in.”

I ran my fingers through my hair in a half-hearted attempt to tame it, grabbed a Coke out of the fridge, picked up my bag, dropped the soda inside it, then slung it over my shoulder as I headed for the door. “Okay. We’re good then. I’ve got keys for our rental, but you should probably drive.” Saying ‘our’ almost stopped me in my tracks, but I took a deep breath and started to open the door but was held up by Simon grabbing my wrist.

“Are you sure you’re all right with seeing this?”

Shrugging, I opened the door the rest of the way to discover the hallway that had been, in my mind, a portal to a personal paradise, now resembled an episode of CSI: Kauai written by Uncle Steve. Claudia’s body lay prone on the carpet parallel to the walls, her back to the floor, lower half twisted so her knees were pointed in my direction, right arm extended with the gun half-on and half-off of the palm of her hand. Beneath her head was a pool of blood that extended more than a foot toward me and to my left in an oval shape, which, in conjunction with the splatter pattern on the far wall, helped me understand why Simon was under the impression that she’d killed herself. Her eyes were still open, fixed upon the ceiling, and in all of it I was numb until it occurred to me that what she’d done to herself she’d wanted to do to me but had failed, and had tried to do to Tom but had only partially succeeded. As far as I knew. And with that, I turned away and began to walk toward the stairwell, not even bothering to check to see if Simon was behind me. I’d barely made it six feet when a police officer ran past me on my left, then spun around and attempted to block my path.

“Ma’am, this is an active crime scene investigation. You need to return to your room…the front desk will call you when it’s okay to exit the premises.”

I said nothing, instead stepping sideways and around him, continuing to work my way towards the stairs even as he called after me.

“Ma’am, you need to stop right there. No one is allowed to enter or leave the premises at this time.”

After that, Simon called my name. I kept going. The officer shouted.

“MA’AM, I AM ORDERING YOU TO STOP. YOU NEED TO…”

Another voice, one I didn’t recognize. “Carlisle! That’s the wife! The friend came up here to get her. They’re both cleared to leave…Detective Frye’s orders!”

And on I went, registering that Officer Carlisle had fallen into step with me on my right but not giving a remote shit about it whatsoever. His voice was subdued and laced with concern, but I couldn’t tell if that concern was for me or for himself since he’d apparently fucked up quite thoroughly.

“Ma’am…Mrs. Hiddleston. I’m very sorry. I didn’t see you coming out of your room and I assumed…and let me be clear that this time that only makes an ass out of me, and a huge one. Your husband is at the Wilcox Medical Center, it’s about seven miles from here. Do you need transportation? We’ve got a car waiting…”

That gave me pause. I turned to him, my eyes narrowed. “Can you get me there faster than if I were on my own?”

He nodded. “Absolutely, ma’am. Or we can escort your vehicle if you want…lights, and sirens if we need to.”

I was unable to process whether or not I should be pleased or horrified, so I let it go and looked back at Simon, gesturing in his direction. “He’s coming with us. Your car. Thank you.”

Simon ran to meet us, and Officer Carlisle clicked the mic button on his radio. “This is Carlisle. Guests need a lift. Still good on the location?”

It was challenging to make out the reply, but I managed to pick up a ‘entrance well shielded’ and ‘the media’. We walked down the steps and as we entered the lobby the three hotel employees present started at me, mouths agape as if they’d seen a ghost. I elbowed Simon, who shook his head and whispered that he’d tell me later.

An undercover police cruiser was waiting outside for us…a black Dodge Charger, the kind with black rims and trim…and I knew I’d made the right choice. Carlisle apologized again as he held open the door for us to enter and introduced us to Officer Moran as we sat down, whom I hoped had a lead foot even heavier than mine. I fastened my seat belt, noting that screens had been placed between the entrance and the parking lot, and there were at least five squad cars and three undercover and/or government vehicles that I could see. As we pulled away I peered through the back window and caught sight of the parking lot, which was jam-packed with media trucks and curious on-lookers. When I glanced at Simon he was scrolling away on his phone, and he looked up at me, brow furrowing.

“Sorry, nothing to report…I was just…” The vehicle pulled onto the highway and both of us were pushed back into our seats as Officer Moran hit the gas and got rolling down the highway, lights flashing. “Guess I should probably tell you before we get to the hospital…you know, that thing I said I’d tell you later. There’s been some incorrect information circulating, probably because you have dark hair, and…well, some major outlets have been reporting that…”

“I’m dead?”

“Well, yes, but that hit while I was in the room with you. Initially, the story was that…it was…that you...you were the shooter.” He bit his lower lip. “I shouldn’t have told you until it was addressed. I’m sorry, this is outside my…”

I reached into my bag and searched around for my phone but came up empty, so I snatched his.

“Maude, come on, don’t do that to yourself…give it back…”

TMZ’s headline read ‘Honeymoon Horror – Maude Hiddleston dead at 38, kills self after shooting husband Tom Hiddleston on beach where the couple wed just two days earlier’, and finding out where it had happened, another place that I held sacred, that WE held sacred, threatened to break me. That was where we’d first spoken aloud how we felt about each other, where we’d acknowledged that while we had no fucking clue where we were going, nothing was going to stop us from taking the trip. I reminded myself it was just a place, and that it didn’t matter, that the only thing that DID matter was Tom. And if he was awake and aware at the hospital, I didn’t want him catching wind of this, be it via the sound from a distant TV or staff members chatting amongst themselves. So, I decided to do the thing that I always advised clients to do…put the truth out there, right from the horse’s mouth. Simon attempted to pry his phone from my right hand, but I slapped him away, then logged into Twitter. Staring at the blank space where I was supposed to type something short and informative made me realize that I…couldn’t. If it was written, if I shared it with the world, that would make it real…it would make all of this real, and in my heart, and my soul, I wanted it to never be real. I wanted to wake up in my bed back in the room right now to the sight of Tom’s face hovering over me, smiling as he trailed his fingers up and down my arm to rouse me from slumber, and for this to have all been a bad dream and nothing more. I licked my lips, nausea creeping up on me as my body prepared itself for its daily purge, and I dropped the phone on the bench seat and began to sob. Simon unbuckled his seat belt and slid over to me, folding me into his embrace gently, one hand stroking my hair.

“Oh honey…I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s okay. He’s going to be okay, he is.”

My voice was ragged, muffled by the closeness of my lips to Simon’s chest. “He has to be. How am I supposed to do this without him, live this life? Raise this child? I can’t, Simon. I can’t. He’s everything. I don’t want to be here if he’s not, but I’ll have to stay because it’s not just me anymore…I just…I…” The words were gone, and all I could do was weep. Simon began rubbing my back.

“I know. I know. I’m here. It’s okay. You need to be calm, lovey. You’ll see him soon. We’re almost there…”

Officer Moran cleared his throat. “Med center is the next left. I radioed ahead, and they’ll bring you in through a side entrance instead of the ER. Detective Frye just announced there’ll be a press conference at eleven-thirty. That should take care of all the misinformation out there.”

As we pulled up to the building a sort of calm did, in fact, come over me. It didn’t prevent me from throwing up on the sidewalk as soon as Officer Moran opened my door, but I felt like I’d regained some control of the situation, as if the power balance had shifted in my direction just the tiniest bit now that even though we weren’t together, I was in the same place as Tom. We were escorted inside by two security guards, then taken down the hall to a private waiting area. Luke was intermittently visible through the partially-open vertical blinds, pacing back and forth. When we walked through the door, he ran to me and pulled me into his arms, which made me think the worst. I leaned back to examine his expression, and I must have looked like I was completely over the edge because he shook his head quickly and began to ramble.

“Oh good lord I’m a fucking idiot I’m sorry I was just so glad to see you because of the news reports and I knew they weren’t true but…” I just stared, silent, having noticed that he was wearing a greenish-blue V-neck scrub shirt. I gazed downward, and when I saw he was still wearing denim shorts, I knew he hadn’t put it on as a means of infection protection. I swallowed so hard it hurt, unable to look back up at him, and he released me in order to take my hands in his own, speaking softly and slowly, as if to a small child. “Maude, it’s all right. Let’s sit down together and talk. Come along with me to the couch.”

He led me across the room to the maroon leather sofa that was flanked by two maroon leather recliners, all opposite a set of maroon fabric-covered interconnected chairs. Maroon, maroon, maroon. Never was a fan. There was a blonde wood rectangular table in the middle of the room, with a landline phone in the center and various magazines placed strategically around the edges. They were neatly, perfectly arranged, and I got the feeling that most who wound up in this particular space had little appetite for whiling away their time with celebrity gossip or the hottest global vacation spots. There was a TV on one wall, but it was dark. And so was I, as I lowered myself in slow motion onto the sofa next to Luke. He was still holding both my hands, and I turned sideways to face him, the seat cushion creaking as Simon sank down behind me. Luke peered around me at him, nodded, then spoke…still slowly, still softly.

“Tom’s in surgery now. They took him in about ten minutes ago, and it will be a few hours before we have any additional information. We can leave it at that, or I can tell you what I already know about what’s happened…whatever you’re comfortable with, all right? Take some time, think it over…”

Much to their surprise, I actually did pause to consider my options, and decided to take things a step at a time. “Simon said he was shot twice in the chest and was still conscious when the ambulance got here. Let’s start with that…the extent of his injuries. Do you know?”

Luke nodded. “Two bullet wounds. One here…” He pointed to the top of his right pectoral muscle, near the center. “And one here.” He pointed lower, just underneath the muscle, but further to the right side. “He lost a lot of blood, and the paramedics suspected his right lung was collapsing. The on-call physician confirmed that, and by the time they prepped him for surgery it had collapsed fully and they were concerned that the left lung might have begun to collapse as well. He was still conscious when they moved him out of the emergency bay and into the operating room.”

“Okay.” I’d acquired enough second-hand knowledge over the years to fully fathom the seriousness of what I’d just heard, and I let go of Luke’s hands, shifted so my knees were facing forward, then leaned back into the cushions, eyes closed as I struggled to triage my thoughts and rein in my emotions. As I ran my tongue over my teeth, I couldn’t recall having brushed them, so that slipped into slot number one and my eyes flew open. “Do either of you have any gum or a mint or something? I forgot to brush my teeth.”

Simon placed a hand on my knee. “You should drink your soda first. And then you need something to eat. I’ll go see what I can find for you.” He rose and left the room, and I took the soda from my bag and cracked it open, taking several sips that I used as improvised mouthwash before swallowing. After a few more, I leaned forward and set the can on the table between a pile of Newsweek and Country Living magazines, the returned to my resting position. Triage wasn’t working…all I had was a war waging between ‘I need to know everything’ and ‘maybe ignorance is bliss’. I let the pot simmer for a while, watching the wall clock tick off fifteen minutes, but it didn’t require a detailed statistical analysis to predict what would rise to the top.

“Luke? I’m ready for the rest now.”

His voice firm, questioning. “You’re certain?”

“I am.”

A deep breath, followed by an exhale of tentative resolve. “All right. I…I’m not sure I can look…”

“It’s okay. I don’t think I can look at you, either.”

After a moment of silence, he began to speak, rambling as before. “I’d been up since before five because I needed to Skype with the office, and it was just after nine when I heard what I thought were firecrackers…which wasn’t exactly surprising considering the mischief makers who’d been here all week, so I essentially rolled my eyes at their foolishness and got back to work. About ten minutes later Simon and I were discussing what to order for breakfast when we heard noise out on the patio, like chairs moving, then pounding on the glass doors. We debated whether or not to open the blinds and see what was going on or just call security when I heard a male voice saying my name. It was barely audible, and it sounded strange, and of course I thought someone was playing a prank so I pushed the blinds aside and whipped open the slider ready to chastise the moron responsible and…and…” He paused for a solid ten seconds, then continued. “I didn’t see anyone at first, but then I looked down and there was Tom, on his hands and knees, and there was a trail of blood on the stone behind him and he was having a hard time talking. I knelt beside him and tried to help him shift to a sitting position but he tried to stand instead, so I helped him up. I could see where…I realized he’d been shot, and he grabbed my forearms and said you were next and that he needed to get to you before Claudia did. He took four steps through the doorway and into the room, but then he went back down on his knees, and his breathing was very quick but he wouldn’t stay down. He kept getting back up, and he kept saying he needed to get to you and all I knew was that he needed to stop moving, for fuck’s sake, and Simon and I tried to hold him and keep him still but then two police officers stormed in though the open door with their guns drawn and telling us to get our hands in the air. We did, and Tom got up again and shouted…I don’t know how…’UPSTAIRS. SHE’S HEADED UPSTAIRS. ROOM 203. GO. GO!’ As they turned and ran off he went back down on his knees, and we were trying to get his T-shirt off so we could maybe stop the bleeding when three ambulance workers came barreling inside with a gurney. We just, you know, tried to give them some room and they had to put him in restraints because he kept trying to get away. They finally had him all packaged and ready to go when we heard the shots from upstairs, and…and…the sound he made, I…I…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get it out of my head.”

And then, for the first time ever, I watched Luke fall completely and utterly apart right before my very eyes. When he tried to apologize, I reached for him, wrapping my arms around him as he leaned his head on my left shoulder and cried, his body shuddering with each breath he took between sobs. I rubbed his back, hoping to console him, to ease his pain even just a little bit, and in the process momentarily forgot about my own.

“I’m sorry, Luke. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. Thank you for helping him, and for being with him. He wasn’t alone, he was with someone he loves and…”

Luke’s head nearly caught my chin as he pulled up and away. “Maude, oh my god no, I’m the one who should be sorry. I should be comforting you, not the other way around.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s okay. I’m grateful you were there, if that makes sense.” I shifted back to my spot, numb again, and trying very, very hard to not allow what he’d just said to take form as a short film in my head. My spur-of-the moment choice for a distraction? Ask for more. “Did he know that I was okay? Before they took him in?”

“I wasn’t allowed in the back. The desk nurse had me fill out some basic paperwork when I got here, and I didn’t know anything else about his condition until they had me sign consent forms. Simon had texted me as soon as he’d reached you, so I asked the ER nurse who’d brought them out to me to please get word to Tom that you were fine, and that everything was okay because I didn’t want him...thinking… and…anyway, the ER nurse stopped back right before you got here to let me know he’d gotten the message through, and to fill me on how Tom was doing.”

Another thing for me to cling to…that Tom had known I was alive. And hopefully that was something to live for, a reason for him to fight, to hold on. When I put myself in his position, if I believed that he’d gone before me, that I’d lost him…it would be all too easy to give in and give up. The tears returned, and I got up and squatted down in front of Luke, taking his hands in mine. He stared, confused.

“Luke, I can’t even begin to explain what that means to me, and I can never thank you enough for doing it. But I’m going to say thank you anyway. So, thank you. Tom and I are so lucky to have you and Simon in our lives. It’s a huge relief, you know? On the way over, before I…knew…how things happened I was so afraid that he’d heard or seen the news reports and…”

He stood, pulling me up with him and embracing me again, and we remained that way, silent and still, until the door opened and Simon strode in with a push-cart of food, trays and utensils.

“Sit down, you two. Time for breakfast. And, no arguments. Especially from the pregnant lady. I had to turn on some serious charmalarma ding dong in order to get the kitchen staff to allow me to raid the place…we have waffles, scrambled eggs, toast, bagels, oatmeal…though I don’t know who in their right mind would actually want to eat that…Frosted Flakes, Fruit Loops, Cheerios, cherry Jell-O, orange Jell-O, milk, chocolate milk, orange juice and grape juice. I even scored you a toothbrush and some toothpaste, Maude. So, who wants what? I’m Simon, and I’ll be your server this morning. Tips are encouraged but not required.”

It seemed strangely disrespectful to stop to eat in such a situation, and I wasn’t anywhere near hungry, but I knew I’d be far worse for wear if I didn’t consume some calories. I ate slowly, feeling as if my hands were moving through sludge…scrambled eggs came first, followed by toast, Fruit Loops and chocolate milk. Simon collected my tray when I was finished, and I stayed glued to my spot on the couch, eyes fixed on my hands as I ran my right index finger back and forth over my wedding band, then twisted it round and round over and over again. I could hear Simon and Luke talking quietly by the food cart, discussing the upcoming press conference and debating which one of them should leave the room if they decided to stream it on their phone as neither had earbuds with them. I looked up, my gaze shifting to where they were standing.

“You can watch it on the TV if you want. I don’t mind. None of it’s going to be news to me. At least I don’t think it will be. And if it is, it can’t be worse than what I’ve already heard, right?” I’d intended that last bit as a humor, but instead of smiling I started crying again. Simon began to walk toward me, but I waved him away. “Not necessary. I’m cool. I mean, I really have not the slightest fucking idea of what I’m supposed to do right now, and my emotions are like one of those automatic bingo ball things and it’s a mystery as to what’s going to pop out next, you know? But that’s kinda been me for the past month and change so it might not be situational. Anyway. Go ahead, put it on. Is it eleven-thirty already? That would be good, because I was pretty sure time had, like, stopped. If it freaks me out, I’ll ask you to turn it off.”

Seeing the Marriott as the backdrop for a press conference was bizarre, but that I was watching it and it was about me and Tom was some fucked-up Inception kind of shit. There were police, and some suits, whom I guessed were management or attorneys, and when a very tan man with light blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail dressed in a black blazer and jeans approached the podium I didn’t expect him to be Detective Frye. But unless he was fibbing when he introduced himself, that’s who he was. When he spoke, I noticed faint remnants of a Southern California accent.

“Good morning. I’m Detective Frye of the Kauai Police Department, and I’m here working with the officers from the Kapaa Substation. Be advised that we no longer have an active shooter situation here. The suspect has been pronounced dead at the scene. I’m aware that there’s been a great deal of misinformation presented by the media regarding this incident, and I’d like to give you some clarity and request that you remove any information that’s not factual from your publications and broadcasts effective immediately. Most importantly, the suspect has been identified as Claudia Heidrich of Los Angeles, California. From what we can piece together so far, she arrived at the hotel at approximately seven o’clock this morning and approached the desk clerk in or order to obtain Thomas and Maude Hiddleston’s room number. It was not provided for her at that time. She exited the premises, and the parking lot security footage shows her walking to and entering a red Subaru Forester, where she remained until Mr. Hiddleston exited the lobby at approximately eight forty AM and began to jog toward the beach. She then exited the vehicle and proceeded to walk in the same direction. We received a call reporting shots fired at approximately five minutes after nine, and the Kapaa officers arrived on scene six minutes later. The details surrounding Mr. Hiddleston’s shooting aren’t yet clear, but he sustained two gunshot wounds to the right chest and is currently undergoing emergency surgery at a local medical center. Security footage shows Ms. Heidrich returning to the hotel lobby at nine twenty, approaching the desk, then removing a .22 caliber automatic pistol from a gift bag and pointing it at the clerk. Additional footage tracks her as she ascends the stairs to the second floor, then walks down the hallway and knocks on the Hiddleston room door. The door is shown opening briefly, then beginning to close as Ms. Heidrich propels herself forward. At this time, two officers approached and instructed her to drop her weapon. She did not obey their command, and instead fired three shots into the door, paused, then turned the gun on herself. Mrs. Hiddleston was uninjured, though she was in an unconscious state when police entered the room. She regained consciousness with no intervention, refused medical treatment, and was transported to the medical center where Mr. Hiddleston is being treated. Updates will be provided when we have addition information. Hotel manager Leonard Schmaltz will take it from here.”

There were some questions shouted, but Detective Frye ignored them and disappeared off camera. As I watched a few blurbs scroll across the bottom, I remembered that Tom’s family existed. I practically leapt up off the couch.

“Luke. What about Diana? And Sarah? And Emma and James and…”

“They’re still here. Sarah and I have been texting…they were finally allowed to leave the hotel a few minutes ago, so they’ll be here soon. Is it all right if they wait with us?”

My brow furrowed. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Luke shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps they felt you might want privacy?”

I shook my head. “Yeah, no. Pretty sure I’d lose what’s left of my shit if I was alone.” He’d begun typing with his thumbs. “You can quote me on that. Also, anyone know where the closest restroom is?”

Simon nodded. “It’s right across the hall. Come on, I’ll take you.”

He held out his hand, and as much as part of me wanted to roll my eyes and tell him I wasn’t a child, majority ruled and I accepted his offer, albeit grudgingly. The restrooms were singles, and I considered inviting Simon inside but decided that was probably weird and left him standing in the hallway. I moved as quickly as possible, knowing it would be just my luck for someone to show up with word about Tom while I was taking a piss. As I was washing my hands I heard voices, and I flung the door open without bothering to dry off. Simon was across the hall, ushering Tom’s family into the waiting area. Tom’s family…they had become my family, too, but at that moment I felt strangely detached…which made me understand the whole wanting privacy thing. They were father, mother, sister…and I was wife. We had love for Tom in common, but I was odd man out, in a way. When you find a partner, it’s inevitable that your relationship with that person takes precedence over that of those established with your biological familial unit. I appreciated that they possessed respect for those invisible boundaries, but at the same time, I felt guilty, like I’d stolen him away. And then I wondered if they blamed me for this, for what Claudia had done. I had been the one, after all, that stood behind that podium and threatened her with financial ruin and incarceration while the entire world looked on. Not Tom. Me. I’d poked the bear again. And this time, she’d raged. And it was all my fault. How was I supposed to face them?

There were guards posted to either side of the waiting room, making escape impossible, so I went back into the bathroom, locked the door and sat down on the floor, shaking uncontrollably. When he woke up, if he woke up…would Tom blame me as well? How could I have been so thoughtless, blind and stupid? Why didn’t I just say fuck her, fuck the videos and let it ride? Tom was so personally invested in it all, he couldn’t have been expected to be rational about it in any capacity…and he’d trusted me to be just that, rational. Logical. Factual. Had I been? Or had something else motivated me…jealousy, maybe? Revenge? Anger? All of those things rolled into one? The sound of Simon’s voice disrupted my hate spiral.

“Maude? You all right?”

“No.”

“What’s wrong?” He tried the door handle. “It’s locked. Can you let me in? Do you need a doctor?

“No.”

“Maude. Talk to me. Let me in.” I didn’t reply. “Maude. Open the door.”

“I’m fine.”

“Woman, you literally just said you aren’t all right, and now you’re fine? Don’t make me trudge my ass all around this hospital looking for someone with a key…”

I stood, unlocked the door, then sat back down. The handle jiggled, followed by the door opening outward. Simone came inside, closed and locked the door, then sat down across from me.

“Well, this is disgusting. Germ central station.” I just stared at him, at the line of his jaw set in anger. “You know you scared the fuck out of me, don’t you? Are you really okay?”

“Physically, yes.”

His face softened. “Well then…what’s going on inside your mind, honey?”

Shrugging, I leaned my head back on the wall and looked up at the ceiling. Dotted acoustic tiles, just like every other medical facility. “I can’t go in there. This is all my fault. They must hate me. I can’t face them.”

“Maude. The fuck are you talking about? How is this your fault? Where are you even getting that from?”

I shifted my gaze to meet his. “Simon. She did this because of what I said at the press conference. I threatened her with jail time and insurmountable debt. I demoed her life in the space of a few sentences, and she tried to take mine in return. And she may have succeeded in taking Tom’s. All because of me, because I couldn’t keep my fucking mouth shut. I fucked with her, and she came for us. Every bit of it, my fault. Every. Bit.” The shaking intensified, and Simon scuttled closer to me and placed his hands on my knees.

“Her actions belong to HER, Maude. Her alone. She made her own choices, every step of the way. You taking responsibility for those actions and choices allows her to become the victim…and she’s NOT. She WASN’T. You and Tom are the victims. End of story. You were just doing your job after she purposely broke the law to hurt you both. When that didn’t pan out, she tried to hurt you even more. She tried to KILL you. BOTH of you. How is that your fault?!”

Leaning forward, I rested my hands atop his. “Are you sure I was just doing my job? Are you sure I wasn’t trying to get even with the woman who wronged the man I love? Make her feel like he did, like the sky was falling, like there was no way out from under it all? Tit for tat, vengeance, manufactured karma…whatever you want to call it. Because I’ll tell you what, I’M not fucking sure. Not anymore. I think I fucked up, Simon. I think I crossed the personal/professional line. And it was the catalyst for this. What I did. MY. FAULT.”

Simon said nothing at first as he removed his right hand from my left knee and placed it gently on my lower belly, then whispered two words. Firmly. Separately. “Maude. Stop.”

I had forgotten. In all of it, I had forgotten that there was someone else in the room, someone who would be with me every second of every day until he or she emerged from what was supposed to be a peaceful cocoon and into the harsh but wonderous world. I burst into tears, and Simon slid beside me and pulled me into his lap, once again offering me sanctuary and serving as my voice of reason.

“You didn’t cross a line. And if you think you did…ask yourself this question. Would you have done that exact same thing for any of your clients in that situation? You don’t really have to ask it, though. Because I know the answer, and it’s yes. You’re the Credible Hulk. That’s why people HIRE YOU. Claudia…clearly, she had issues. But issues don’t justify being an evil fuck, and that’s what she was. It’s not only abnormal behavior, it’s inhuman. In this life, you can never really tell how far someone is willing to go until after the fact. That’s just the deal. You aren’t Miss Cleo. And hell, I’m sure there’s shit even she didn’t see coming. Didn’t she get hit by a truck or something?”

I hiccup-giggled in the middle of a sob. “That was awful. And no. Cancer.” His mouth opened and I knew what he was going to say next, so I interjected before he could even make a sound. “Son, just don’t.”

He sighed, then kissed the top of my head. “We should go now. And…this is a huge, traumatic thing. You’re going to have ups, and downs, and everything in between. Both of you will. But you’ll navigate it all together, and I’ll be there to do whatever you need me to. Focus on now, then one step at a time. That’s how we get where we’re going.” He stood up, then reached for my hands to help me rise. As soon as I was on my feet, I embraced him again.

“The sense of guilt is overwhelming, and I really don’t ever want to leave this room, but if I don’t leave the room I don’t see Tom, so…let’s get on with it. And, thank you.”

I released him, and he opened the door and we walked hand in hand into the waiting room, my guilt mostly assuaged by the depth of love and caring I felt as Sarah, Emma, James and Diana embraced me in turn. They’d seen the news, and while they hadn’t believed I was the shooter, they had feared I’d been shot and killed. We cried together, then waited together, and three hours later, shortly after I’d resigned myself to the fact that I was, in fact, dead and that this was purgatory…this waiting room where I’d remain for all eternity without Tom…the door opened and a woman in green scrubs walked through it. She was slightly built, but I could see the strength in her forearms as she reached up to remove her surgical cap. Light brown hair spilled downward, straight and shiny, the ends resting just above her collar bones, her dark brown eyes large and expressionless. I tried to discover even just the tiniest flicker of emotion that would tell me whether things had gone well or, not well, but failed miserably. Those dark eyes scanned the room until they came to rest on me, and I rose from my spot on the couch as she began to walk toward me. She held out her right hand.

“Mrs. Hiddleston, I’m Doctor Anya Salinas.” I wanted to return the gesture but found myself incapable of making my arm move. I was paralyzed with fear, both anxiously awaiting and dreading the words that would come next. The hand moved upward, eventually gently gripping my left bicep. “Your husband is out of surgery, and while we’re going to be watching him very closely over the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, I see no reason why he shouldn’t recover fully from his injuries.”

Around me were cries of thank god and gasps of relief, and I could see in my peripheral vision hugging and kissing and back clapping as I sat back down on the couch, the black spots appearing before my eyes alerting me to the fact that I was probably going to pass the fuck out again. I leaned forward and put my head between my knees, and I could hear Dr. Salinas asking me if I was okay, but her voice sounded like it was coming from another room. I felt hands on my shoulders, and I lifted my head to find her face directly in front of mine. She’d squatted down in order to connect with me, her eyes attentive and very kind, and I realized this was the person who had just worked tirelessly for hours on end to save Tom’s life, the person who had given me back the other half of my very self, and given him the chance to be a father to our child. I sat up, still slightly dizzy, and placed my right hand on top of hers, which was still resting on my left shoulder.

“Dr. Salinas. Thank you. Thank you.” My tears this time were those of relief and gratefullness, and I knew no matter which additional words I spoke, they would never be quite enough so I repeated the two that seemed to convey things most simply one more time, my voice almost a whisper. “Thank you.”

She smiled softly, nodding. “He’s in recovery now. Before you see him…mainly before he’s awake, actually…there are a few things I’d like to discuss with you, if you’re up to it.”

Was I up to it? Who the fuck knew, but this human-turned-fainting-goat was willing to do whatever was necessary in order to get in that recovery room, even if it meant they’d need to schlep my ass there in a wheelchair. “Okay. That’s fine.”

“Okay.” She stood, and I did as well, surprised at how I towered over her. “Does walking and talking work for you, or should I clear the room so we have some privacy?”

“Walking, please.” I hadn’t been paying attention to anything that was going on around us, and that continued as I followed her to the door and out into the hallway. Her pace was slow, possibly because she was physically spent, but most likely for my benefit. She handed me a small container of orange juice, which she must have snagged off the cart on the way out of the waiting room.

“This should help with your blood sugar levels.” I thanked her, and again she nodded without saying ‘you’re welcome’, instead getting right down to business. “If at any time I’m making you uncomfortable, let me know. If you need to take a break, of if you need to sit down and rest, we can do that. Your husband is likely to remain unconscious for at least another forty-five minutes. I was the on-call surgeon today, and I was already here when he arrived…they always bring us in quickly for potential mass-casualty incidents. From what I’ve been told the paramedics had restrained him, but he broke free in the ER and tried to get away. They got him back under control, and as soon the ER doc examined him and diagnosed a pneumothorax we started getting things ready in the OR. Normally a sedative would have been administered, but since the need for surgery seemed imminent we wanted to avoid it if at all possible. Whoever sent the nurse back to us with word you were okay…that made all the difference.” She paused as we turned a corner. “Still with me?”

I nodded, sipping the juice through the absurdly tiny straw I’d pulled off the back of the box.

“There were no exit wounds, which meant the bullets needed to be located and removed and any damage repaired. We discovered that the cause of the collapsed lung wasn’t actually due to projectile penetration, which is what we expected to find, but instead a small tear that resulted from a rib broken upon impact as the bullet entered just below the pectoral muscle. Typically, it would take hours, sometimes even days, for a lung to collapse fully from a tear that size, but the intense level of physical activity Mr. Hiddleston experienced after being wounded escalated the process. We removed the damaged rib to avoid further injury, inflated both lungs fully using a chest tube, applied a doxycycline treatment to aid adhesion of the right lung to the chest wall, then removed the bullet and repaired damaged tissue. The wound just above the pectoral muscle had no muscle or tendon involvement, but a nick in the interior thoracic artery caused a significant amount of blood loss and necessitated the administration of two pints of donor blood. The chest tube will be in place for at least four days, and upon removal the incision will be stitched closed. There will be some scarring, of course, but the extent is always dependent upon genetic inheritance and immune response so I can’t really predict an outcome along those lines.”

Dr. Salinas stopped, and upon seeing that the door to our right read ‘Recovery Room A-1’ I took a step toward it. She shifted, placing a hand on my forearm to halt my progress. “Mrs. Hiddleston, most patients who experience a near double-lung collapse…well, let’s just say they don’t usually fare this well. I’m sure Mr. Hiddleston’s exceptional level of overall physical fitness is a significant factor, but…this is difficult for me to say, as a physician…I honestly can’t explain why he’s not in ICU right now. Not scientifically. His blood oxygen was so low he shouldn’t have been conscious, but his blood pressure leveled off at 80 over 50 and his heart rate remained steady the entire time, an even 55 BPM, and it never skipped a single beat. I’m going to be evaluating every step for quite some trying to find an answer, that’s a certainty. One more thing before we go inside…now, he knew prior to surgery that you were alive, but anesthesia can cause patients to temporarily lose memories of what happened immediately prior to being put under. This is a concern because if he regains consciousness and is still under the impression that you are not alive, he may react negatively and the potential for a re-collapse of the lung is very high at this stage. The nurse-anesthetist is inside, and he’ll help you…”

Her head cocked to one side, listening, and what began as quiet murmuring quickly turned to loud talking, and even though it was hoarse and muted by the door between us, there was no mistaking whom the voice belonged to. Tom. He’d cranked up the decibels to the the point that I could now clearly make out what he was saying.

“NO! Why am I here? I don’t want to be here. She’s gone. I told you to let me die. Why didn’t you let me die? I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE.”

I pulled away from Dr. Salinas, pushed the door inward and was at his bedside before her or the nurse-anesthetist could utter a single word. His eyes were wild, full of agony and despair, and he was attempting to sit up when I reached down and took his left hand in mine, squeezing hard. He yanked it away and began clawing at the nasal canula, so lost inside himself and left confused by the drugs they’d administered that he had not the faintest idea who I was. I leaned forward and grabbed him by the jaw, and when his eyes met mine I thought for sure he was going to hit me…but I refused to let go, instead using all the power I could channel to force him to look at me and nothing else. I saw anxiety, then rage, followed by bewilderment, shock and, finally, recognition. The fingers of his left hand grazed my wrist, and as they connected with my rings he glanced downward, then back up at me. His expression conveyed that he wanted to believe but couldn’t quite bring himself to trust in what he was experiencing…not completely. I released his jaw and brought his hand to my lips, kissing it softly, having difficulties of my own in regard to believing that this was genuine, that he was here, and that he was alive. His voice was little more than a whisper when he spoke, and his words made my soul ache for him.

“I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d lost both of you. It was the end. Of everything.” A pause, and when I saw his sorrow shift to panic as he said the word ‘both’ I shook my head and interjected, hoping to keep him calm. The word of the day…calm. Keep calm and carry on, in spite of the beast within who wanted nothing more than to kill Claudia over and over again for what she’d done, like Dormammu and Doctor Strange. I leaned in close to his face until our foreheads were touching.

“I’m here. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. We’re okay. It’s okay.” He began to cry, and I nuzzled his cheek. “I know you’re upset, and confused, and that shit is FUBAR right now, but I need you to try and relax, my love. Be still. You have to give your body a chance to heal, and the more relaxed you are, the faster that will happen. I’m here, I’m fine, the baby’s fine…and you’re going to be fine, too.”

He was at peace briefly, scarcely more than a minute or two passing before I felt him tense up again. “Maude. It’s not safe. She’ll come back. She won’t stop until…”

Pulling back from him, I followed his eyes as they darted back and forth, then reached out to grasp his chin again, though far more gently this time around. “We’re safe. She’s dead, Tom. Claudia’s dead.”

“She is? Are you sure?”

The scene from the hotel hallway invaded my inner space, and I nodded. “Saw it with my own two eyes. Trust me, she is NOT coming back. For me, for you, for anyone. Ever. Okay?”

“Okay.” A tear tracked downward from the outer corner of his left eye and landed on the sheet beneath his head. “I’m sorry you saw. But I’m glad she’s gone. I love you.”

“And I love you. Don’t be sorry. I’m glad too. Which seems to be my default setting when people die lately. What that says about me, I don’t know…that my moral compass is a roulette wheel, maybe?”

He smiled…a teeny, tiny, itty-bitty smile, and it was one of the most beautiful smiles I’d ever had the good fortune to witness. Dr. Salinas witnessed it as well, from a distance, and realized we’d turned a corner. She joined me at Tom’s bedside to let him know she’d be checking in on him later in the day, and that Gerald, the nurse-anesthetist, would help him with some breathing exercises. We both thanked her, and I though I released Tom’s hand so I wasn’t in the way, I remained where I was while Gerald raised the head of the bed and had Tom breathe into a meter repeatedly until it reached an acceptable level. Once that was over and done with, we were advised that the staff was readying a private room and a team would be in to move Tom when it was good to go. Gerald showed me how to use the emergency call button, just in case, and then left us alone. A minute later he was back, a Ziploc bag in hand that contained Tom’s phone, his iPod, and his wedding ring. He passed it off to me, smiled, then left without another word. Tom frowned.

“I didn’t want them to take that off. I think I may have raised a bit of a ruckus over it.”

I undid the slide zip and fished the ring out of the bag, hooking it on my right index finger. He lifted up his left hand, then rested it on the bed’s side guardrail, too exhausted to hold it aloft. Another tiny smile greeted me when my gaze met his.

“Will you put that back where it belongs for me, please?”

“You betcha.” I slipped it onto his ring finger, a soft sigh escaping him as he took hold of my hand.

“Much better. Thank you.”

His eyes closed, and I ran my thumb back and forth across his wrist, the constant beeping of monitoring equipment the only sound in the room, tethering me to the present, driving home what had happened and how our lives hand changed so quickly in the blink of an eye, and how lucky we’d been that the change was this and not something else.

“Maude.”

His voice startled me, so much so that I twitched with such violence that my feet nearly left the floor, which set alarm bells ringing in my head and caused me to assume something had gone terribly awry while I wasn’t paying attention.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong? Should I call someone?”

He squeezed my hand, now-open eyes full of concern. “I’m fine. Sorry. Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

I smiled. “It’s okay. I’m, like, jangly. Sorry for overreacting.”

He smiled softly in return. “It’s okay. I’m sorry you’re jangly.”

My left eyebrow rose as my smile turned to a smirk. “Well, someone’s going for gold in the Apology Olympics.”

“Please allow me to apologize for my intensely competitive nature, Mrs. Hiddleston.” And with that, I knew he was fully here again, and though I’d been saying it to myself all morning and to him since he’d woken up, I finally believed…everything was going to be okay. The future, our future, was visible again. Not in a Miss Cleo way, but in a we’ll heal, we’ll move forward, we’ll get through this way. The only guarantee life comes with is that it eventually ends…but now wasn’t the time for that. Not for us. Not today. And I wondered if there was a way to express my gratitude for such a gift, the gift of time…and when I felt Tom’s fingers turning my wedding ring in circles as I had in the waiting room as I sat unsure of whether or not I’d ever see him alive again, the answer to my question was blatantly obvious. The answer was…live.

He bit his lip, his own left eyebrow far higher than the right, then spoke again. “This ceaseless beeping is driving me mad. I don’t suppose I could coax a song out of you as a distraction, could I?”

“No coaxing required.” I took his iPod out of the Ziploc, turned it on, then scrolled to find the song that had come to mind. I put one earbud in my my right ear, the other in his left and hit play – Deathcab For Cutie’s Soul Meets Body.

I want to live where soul meets body And let the sun wrap its arms around me and Bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing And feel Feel what it's like to be new

'Cause in my head there's a Greyhound station Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations So they may have a chance of finding a place where they're Far more suited than here

I cannot guess what we'll discover When we turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels But I know our filthy hands can wash one another's And not one speck will remain

I do believe it's true That there are roads left in both of our shoes But if the silence takes you Then I hope it takes me too

So brown eyes I'll hold you near 'Cause you're the only song I want to hear A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere

We both wept quietly after I finished singing along, still holding hands, me leaning down and in so our cheeks touched. I wanted nothing more than to climb into his hospital bed and hold him, to feel him against me and hear his heart beating, to inhale the scent of his warm skin, and never, ever let him go. But this, this limited contact…it was what we had for the moment, and something I might have been permanently deprived of if things had gone differently, so it would do. It would absofuckingloutely do.

#your light in the mist #chapter 47

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