Adventures in Babysitting: Solange/Tristan/Leopold

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Tristan had no idea who had recruited him as babysitter this afternoon. The last time he’d talked to Torben, they’d talked about crop circles. The last time he’d talked to Gwen, she’d thrown out the avacados in his refrigerator and stressed the importance of the perfect green shade and firmness of the fruit-that-she-couldn’t-believe-Tristan-thought-was-a-vegetable. Not once had either of them said “babysitting”. And yet, thirty seconds ago, Leopold came tearing into the funeral home with Gwen trotting behind, yelling “catch him!” She’d thanked Tristan profusely, said that she and Torben were late for tango lessons, and then she thanked him again for “agreeing to watch Leopold”.

Tristan couldn’t remember agreeing to anything of the sort, but Gwen flourished out of the funeral home before he got a chance to say so. He was now holding Leopold off the ground at arms-length to avoid being kicked in the chest.

“Down!” Leopold demanded, swinging his little legs at Tristan. “Tristan, down!”

Tristan had plans tonight. Bodies to embalm, a final service to perform, and a girlfriend he really wanted to take out for dinner. He also had an apartment to clean and a stack of unwatched “Twilight Zone” DVDs he’d promised Torben he’d watch. Maybe when Torben had said, “Watch these” he meant “Watch Leopold”. A common mistake. Mixing up your toddler with old television shows.

“Down-down-down!” Leopold sang out.

“Hold on, kid,” said Tristan. “I’m thinking.”

A glance at the clock told Tristan he had fifteen minutes before mourners started to arrive to view Monsieur Hegel’s body. Fifteen minutes to figure out what to do with Leopold, fifteen minutes to pop a dead girl back into the embalming room freezer, fifteen minutes to put on his tie and most somber face.

“You gotta promise not to run if I put you down,” Tristan told Leopold sternly. Leopold nodded.

Taking a three year old’s word had been a mistake. The second Tristan let go of Leopold, the kid ran down the hallway and disappeared into the viewing room. When Tristan caught up, Leopold was nowhere to be found. The only two people in there were Solange and Monsieur Hegel. Tristan surveyed the room before dropping to all fours and looking under the pews.

“You didn’t see a kid run in here, did you?” he asked Solange, peering up at her. “Gwen dropped Leopold off and I really don’t have time to lose him.”

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

Solange was busy in the viewing room, getting last minute touches ready for the Hegel visitation with the photos the family had asked them to display and setting up the arrangements so that they didn't clash or block each other. It seemed that a lot of people wanted to send rather large arrangements as well which made things even more difficult. Still she was glad for the chance to get out from behind her desk. Phone calls, scheduling, and emails had left her stuck there most of the morning. It was nice to be looking at something other than the computer screen for once. She'd been starting to get a headache.

But it was fading away now worked with the projector so it was playing the tribute slideshow the family had put together. Her mind drifted to thoughts of the nice dinner Tristan had promised to take her to when the service was done for the night. She smiled to herself. It would be nice for the two of them to spend some time together. Technically they could be considered spending time together now, but work time didn't really count.

She whirled around to find Tristan on his hands and knees, searching under the pews. She looked at him curiously.

"Trist?" she asked softly.

“You didn’t see a kid run in here, did you?” he asked, looking up at her from his place on the ground. “Gwen dropped Leopold off and I really don’t have time to lose him.”

Leopold? The three year old Gwendoline and Torben had adopted?! He was loose in the funeral home right now?! Solange felt her blue eyes widen dramatically. She had no issues with children in the funeral home, but it was a different matter all together when they couldn't find said child.

"There is a three year old running around here by himself," she asked as if to clarify. She dropped down on her knees as well and started looking on the opposite row of pews. "How on earth did he get away from you?"

There was a little giggle as if in response to their panicked words. Suddenly a small blur came darting out from behind a particularly large floor standing arrangement. As he came out, the boy knocked the plant over. It teetered precariously as he stood there in its path. She instinctively leapt from her spot on the floor, diving to catch the heavy plant and prevent it from landing on the toddler.

She managed to push the plant back in time, but Leopold suddenly tore from the room, laughing like this was the best game of hide-and-go-seek ever. the relief in her eyes suddenly changed to fear again as a thought occurred to her. Leopold had gone to the right when he left the room...the only thing that direction was the garage and....

"Tristan, please tell me you locked the embalming room," she murmured worriedly.

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Solange’s eyes got huge. Tristan cringed a little. He’d been babysitting for less than five minutes and already, Leopold was missing. Solange would kill him for letting Leopold loose in the funeral home; Gwen would reanimate him and murder him for losing her kid. The thought Good thing we’re in a funeral home crossed Tristan’s mind, because he was so dead. Dead man crawling.

"There is a three year old running around here by himself?" Solange asked.

“Basically,” Tristan mumbled, crawling to the next row of pews to look in the seats. Fortunately, Solange didn’t get mad. Instead, she dropped to her knees and scoured her side of the room. Tristan felt an immediate shock of gratitude.

"How on earth did he get away from you?"

“He promised he wouldn’t run, so I set him down,” Tristan said. “For, like, two seconds and… That kid is the Flash reincarnated or something, I swear.”

A little giggle erupted from behind a large, potted plant. Tristan looked up in time to see a whirl of motion up at the front of the room. Leopold darted out from behind the plant and it swiveled in place, nearly steamrolling Leopold. Somehow, Solange managed to leap forward and set the plant right. Leopold let out a shrill laugh and as he ran from the room, Tristan made an effort to grab him. He seized hold of something – the handle to Leopold’s turtle backpack. Leopold wriggled from the arm straps and disappeared from the viewing room. Tristan held the bag in disbelief.

Smart kid.

Tristan pushed himself back to his feet and unzipped the backpack. It was surprisingly heavy for a three year old and Tristan had to wonder if Gwen and Torben meant that Tristan was keeping Leopold for the night. There was a plastic Tupperware, three coloring books, crayons, and a portable CD player. There were also some rocks from the walkway leading up to the funeral home and a couple of feathers. Tristan frowned.

"Tristan,” Solange said, making Tristan look over at her. Her forehead was creased with concern. “Please tell me you locked the embalming room."

Tristan could feel the color drain from his face. There were scalpels in there. And needles. And a couple of dead bodies. One out on the table right now.

“No. I was in there when Gwen showed up… I didn’t get the chance…”

He tossed the backpack onto a pew and ran out of the viewing room to the embalming room. He pushed open the door as terror cramped up his stomach. But Leopold wasn’t hiding. He stood in plain view, stroking the dead girl’s hand as if comforting her. His brown eyes were wide with curiosity. His brows were creased; and his little bow mouth was moving.

“Leopold,” Tristan said, voice rising a little in warning. “Get away from there…”

“Shh,” Leopold said, looking at Tristan. She’s sleeping.”

Tristan let out a weak laugh and walked into the room. In the eight years Tristan had been a funeral director, he’d seen grown men and women lose their composure in the embalming room. He could remember one man in particular, a stocky doctor who carried himself like a cockatoo and called Tristan “son” in a patronizing sort of way.

“Son,” he’d said, patting Tristan’s shoulder. “I work nights at the ER. I’m sure I’ve seen worse.”[/b]

Tristan made him sign a waiver that said that Vidal Funeral Home was not responsible for any emotional or mental stress or trauma he went through. And sure enough, this self-important ER doc was so shaken to the core that Tristan had to escort the guy to his office, so the guy could calm down before rejoining his wife in the lobby.

And here was this three year old kid – here was Leopold – totally unfazed. Tristan didn’t know if he should be nervous or relieved. But he knew that Leopold needed hand sanitizer before he stuck his fingers somewhere they shouldn’t go.

Tristan picked up the bottle of hand sanitizer and said in a bright voice, “Let’s wash up, Leopold!”

“Shush,” Leopold said. “Lady is sleeping. Good night, lady.”

And then, obediently, Leopold held out his hands to be washed.

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

A million thoughts raced through her head as she watched Tristan pale at her question about the embalming room, knowing what that meant. She could just imagine the look on Gwendoline's face if they had to take Leopold in for stitches because he'd gotten ahold of a scalpel or had terrible nightmares after seeing dead bodies. They seriously had to be the worst babysitters in the entire world. The boy had only just gotten here and already they had lost him twice and could quite possibly have unintentionally put him in danger.

“No. I was in there when Gwen showed up… I didn’t get the chance…” Tristan said, suddenly throwing the backpack he had managed to get ahold of into the pews and running in the direction of the embalming room.

Solange took off after him, trailing a little behind in her high heels. She reached the room in time to hear Tristan's voice saying “Leopold. Get away from there…” She was almost afraid of what she would find when she rounded the corner. She turned to find Tristan approaching Leopold who was standing there stroking the hand of a corpse there on the table.

“Shh,” the little boy quieted him. "She’s sleeping.”

Relief that he wasn't freaking out washed over her. Thank God for the innocence of a three year old mind. Hopefully he would continue to believe that the woman was asleep for as long as he lived and would never realize he'd wandered into an embalming room as a toddler. Would never realize the two people who were to blame for that.

Tristan grabbed a bottle of hand sanitizer and turned back to the boy. “Let’s wash up, Leopold!” he said in a cheerful voice, making her smile at the gentle way he was with the little boy. It was sweet to see that interaction.

“Shush,” Leopold scolded, holding out his hands to Tristan for washing. “Lady is sleeping. Good night, lady.”

He might have been calm now but they needed to get him out of the embalming room. "Right, Leopold," she said in a soft voice., nodding with a smile. "Lady is sleeping. Let's let her sleep, okay? Come out here..." She put a finger to her mouth as if motioning him to be quiet as he left the room. A bright smile lit his face as he mimicked the motion and slowly crept from the room. She let Tristan close the door behind him and hopefully locked it.

"Bonjour, lady," the little boy beamed up at her, waving. She smiled right back, laughing softly. "Name?" he asked curiously, still trying to grasp the right words.

She crouched down to his level and grinned at him. Giving his hand a playful and vigorous shake. "I am Solange," she said, trying to pronounce her name carefully, knowing it was probably a mouthful for a three year old. "Good to meet you, Leopold."

Leopold giggled and tried to shake her hand back. "Longe!" he declared happily. "Bonjour, Longe!"

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Tristan doused Leopold’s hands in sanitizer and helped him clean up. He had to crouch down to do any good and even still was too tall to be eye-level with Leopold. Leopold scrubbed his own hands and tried to rub excess hand sanitizer on Tristan’s knuckles.

"Right, Leopold," Solange said from the doorway. Her soft voice relaxed Tristan, perhaps even more than it calmed Leopold. Maybe between the two of them, they could get Leopold under control. "Lady is sleeping. Let's let her sleep, okay? Come out here..."

Leopold did as asked. Tristan hastily went to cover and store the corpse. A shudder ran down his spine. Leopold wasn’t kidding; the girl really did look like she was sleeping. That was – of course – Tristan’s goal as an embalmer. A huge compliment from a grieving family. A little eerie from an unwitting three year old. You weren’t supposed to liken death to sleep when talking to kids. Sent the wrong message. He’d just created a whole set of to-dos for Gwen and Torben. Or maybe for himself. Parents were forever asking Tristan to explain death to their kids; he dreaded it if Gwen asked him to explain it to Leopold. And yet, Leopold’s brave, calm face made Tristan smile.

That kid could be a great intern someday, he thought as he shut and locked the freezer and washed his own hands. When he returned to the hallway to lock and shut the door, Tristan saw Leopold exuberantly shaking hands with Solange.

"Bonjour, Longe!" Leopold giggled. Then, noticing Tristan, he said, “Tristan, meet Longe.”

Tristan stared at Leopold, trying to piece together what exactly the kid wanted now. There was something obstinate in Leopold’s chin and something pleading in his eyes. He was waiting for something, but Tristan wasn’t quite sure--

“Oh,” he said, stifling a laugh when realization struck. “We’ve met. Solange is my girlfriend, Leopold.”

Leopold looked up at the two of them and Tristan knew that the word “girlfriend” had no meaning to a three year old. He didn’t know how else to explain this. Maybe explaining death was easier than explaining how dating worked.

“I know her, Leopold,” he said again. “We’re dating. We’re together… We know each other, Leopold.”

Leopold puckered his lips and put Solange’s hand in Tristan’s. “Meet,” he insisted. And then he folded his arms and watched them.

“Bonjour, Solange, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Tristan said exaggeratedly. He extended a hand to her, although they were long past days of shaking hands with one another. A smile curled Tristan’s lips. Hopefully, Solange would just go along with it so that Leopold would be happy and stop running off.

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

Solange liked to think that she was good with kids. Unlike most girls, she hadn't grown up babysitting. She had grown up with her grandmother who didn't really have friends with kids of the age to be babysat. She didn't have any siblings so she had no nieces or nephews. The closest she had come to really interacting with kids was dealing with the kids that came to the funeral home with their parents. She tried her best to keep them entertained during consultations or comfort them during the funerals. Either way, Leopold was the first kid she had sought to make friends with.

He chimed the little attempt at her name happily and she couldn't help but giggle to herself. The name thing was really adorable actually. When Tristan appeared it seemed that Leopold took it upon itself to introduce the two of them. “Tristan, meet Longe.” he urged, making Solange giggle again. She covered her mouth with her hand, grinning behind her fingers.

“Oh,” Tristan said with realization. “We’ve met. Solange is my girlfriend, Leopold.” It was obvious from the expression on the boy's face that this explanation was not good enough for him (or more likely, just went over his head). Tristan tried again. “I know her, Leopold,” he explained again. “We’re dating. We’re together… We know each other, Leopold.”

Leopold didn't answer at first, instead taking her hand and putting it in Tristan's. “Meet,” he declared insistently.

It seemed that Tristan finally gave in and smile that matched her own pulled at his lips as he shook her hand. “Bonjour, Solange, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, making her grin grow.

"It's very nice to meet you too, Tristan," she said in a similarly exaggerated tone. She turned Leopold who was still watching them with interest. "There! We met...what comes next Leopold," she asked with a smile.

The boy got a serious look on his face as if trying to figure out what the next step in their relationship should be. His big brown eyes lit up when it came to him. "Friends!" he declared. "Tristan and Longe be friends! Ami!." He paused a moment, his words making him follow some strange thought process. He turned to look at Tristan. "Tristan bring ami?"

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Tristan shook hands with strangers every day. But Solange was not a stranger; in fact, Tristan couldn’t recall ever shaking her hand. Maybe the day he’d hired her? He was much more comfortable with holding Solange’s hands, lacing her fingers through his. Shaking hands was perfunctory and professional. Not something a guy thought to do with his girlfriend. Still, Solange grinned at him in the same clownish way Tristan grinned at her and said, "It's very nice to meet you too, Tristan."

Tristan couldn’t help but laugh. He caught it in the back of his throat in time to keep his composure. It would break Leopold’s heart if he thought Tristan was laughing at him. Gwen often said that her son was “sensitive” and with Gwen, Tristan couldn’t be sure if she meant “emotionally fragile” or “psychic”. Not worth taking the chance.

"There! We met...what comes next Leopold?" Solange asked, releasing Tristan’s hand.

Tristan looked at Leopold. The little boy’s face was very serious for a moment. Tristan could feel seconds tick away. He still had a service soon and a tie to put on. And while Leopold’s games were fun, it probably wasn’t a good idea to put that kind of “fun” in “funeral”. Leopold’s face brightened as his mind touched on an idea.

“Friends!"he declared."Tristan and Longe be friends! Ami!."


“How about it, “Longe”?” Tristan teased. “Are we friends?”

But Leopold reached up and tugged Tristan’s pant leg before he could hear Solange’s answer. Tristan looked down to see hopeful eyes.

"Tristan bring ami?" Leopold asked.

Tristan knew instantly that Leopold meant Isolde – Tristan’s pet Madagascar Hissing Cockroach. Tristan had had her for four years, which was quite a feat in insect ownership. But in those four years, Leopold had been the only person Tristan had ever met who shared his enthusiasm for six-legged pets. Suddenly, Tristan felt a little uneasy. He couldn’t recall ever bringing up his roach to Solange because, well…

Because when they first met it would have sounded creepy or stupid or just flat-out pointless.

And later, when he wanted to make friends with her, it just hadn’t come up.

And now that they were dating, it hadn’t come up and it again seemed really creepy.

But Solange was a hell of a woman. She was great with kids, funny, and smarter than anyone else Tristan knew. She could stomach working in a funeral home and did everything Tristan did (except embalming) while in a pair of high heeled shoes. She didn’t shy away from dating Tristan, even though he was her boss, something of a local vandal, and gave her cause to worry at least once a week. Telling her about Isolde wouldn’t do Tristan any favors, but it probably wouldn’t break their relationship.

Of course, telling Leopold that he hadn’t brought the cockroach to work would probably disappoint the kid and lead to the “why” game. Tristan thought for a moment. Then he crouched down to Leopold’s level and said, “Ami is at the beach, Leopold. She’s swimming and surfing and having a blast. You can see her next time you come over to my place, though. She’ll be back by then.”

Leopold seemed satisfied with this answer for a moment. Tristan was sure this answer was not satisfactory to Solange and he stood up.

“Leopold made friends with my pet cockroach,” he said. “Don’t laugh. I actually do have a Madagascar Hissing Cockroach… It’s a long story.”

Leopold looked excited all of a sudden and he sat down on the floor in the middle of the hallway.

“Story?”

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

The thought of being 'friends' with Tristan seemed so distant now that it was strange for her to hear Leopold insisting that that they be friends. Being his girlfriend seemed rather natural to her, she felt truly happy for the first time since her grandmother had passed away. Friends seemed like such a step in the wrong direction. But of course that was the next logical step in the three year old's mind for two people who he'd just introduced and couldn't quite grasp the boyfriend/girlfriend concept.

“How about it, “Longe”?” Tristan teased. “Are we friends?”

She laughed and shook her head. "Yes, we're friends but only Leopold gets to call me that," she insisted.

Tristan hadn't heard because Leopold was distracting him with another question, apparently wanting to know if he had brought his friend. What friend was he talking about exactly? Solange didn't quite understand, but it obviously made sense to Tristan. He got down on the toddler's level as he went to explain.

“Ami is at the beach, Leopold. She’s swimming and surfing and having a blast. You can see her next time you come over to my place, though. She’ll be back by then.” he assured the boy.

As she listened though, she couldn't quite help a slightly jealous ping that twinged in her gut. Who was this 'friend' of his? Why was she over at his apartment? Why did a three year old know about her and not Solange? She watched as Tristan rose to his feet again and turned to explain things to her.

“Leopold made friends with my pet cockroach,” he told her. A pet cockroach. Why did that make so much more sense?! “Don’t laugh. I actually do have a Madagascar Hissing Cockroach… It’s a long story.”

A smile curled the corners of her lips. "I'm actually relieved. You had me worried for a second," she said. "The way you talked I'd thought there was some blond surfer girl living at your apartment."

Apparently there was only one word there that caught Leopold's attention. “Story?” he asked, clearly wanting a story right there as he sat down in the middle of the hall. She looked at Tristan, stumped about the course of action. She knew they were still running on a tight schedule. People would be arriving just over five minutes. She knelt down in front of the little boy.

"How about we go get your backpack...turtle..." she said, making sure Leopold understood what she meant. "Then I can tell you a story somewhere else." She turned back to Tristan. "I can watch him in your office if you can handle the Hegel service by yourself," she suggested.

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

For a moment, concern darkened Solange’s features. But as Tristan started to explain about Isolde, a smile unfurled on Solange’s lips.

"I'm actually relieved. You had me worried for a second," she said. "The way you talked I'd thought there was some blond surfer girl living at your apartment."

“Nope. Just a roach the length of my palm. You’ll have to come over and see her sometime,” Tristan said. “After she gets back from the beach, of course.”

What he didn’t say was that blond surfer girls were not his type and that as far as he was concerned, Solange was the only girl who was. He figured she already knew. He also didn’t say that he hoped Solange would come by his place anytime she felt like it – maybe to see Isolde, but for absolutely any reason at all. Because he figured that was obvious.

But Leopold didn’t pick up on the way Tristan’s eyes sparked with amusement at Solange’s words or on how his voice went soft and a little hopeful when he invited her to his place. Leopold didn’t notice that two people he’d introduced moments ago and just made to be friends were smiling at each other and that Tristan’s eyes drifted from Solange’s gaze to her lips and back. So maybe it wasn’t obvious. Not to a three year old. Not to a kid who’d heard the word “story” and was ready to hear “Once upon a time…”

Tristan looked away from Solange to see Leopold camped out on the floor. People would be arriving soon and now was not the right time for story time. But for the first time since arriving, Leopold was still. Tristan looked over at Solange. She might as well have been checking her watch. Six minutes until people would start showing up. Six minutes at most. Tristan shrugged helplessly. What he wouldn’t give for a DVD player right about now or a coloring book and crayons. Anything that Leopold could just do quietly and without a lot of supervision… Solange bent down to Leopold’s level.

"How about we go get your backpack...turtle..." she said, making sure Leopold understood what she meant, "Then I can tell you a story somewhere else." She turned back to Tristan. "I can watch him in your office if you can handle the Hegel service by yourself."

“You’re a genius,” Tristan said gratefully.

They walked back into the viewing room. Tristan stopped suddenly when he noticed an old woman – Madame Hegel, actually – sitting in the first row of seats. He hadn’t heard her come in and he didn’t think Solange had, either, or else she would have said something. He looked over at Solange and saw that Leopold was picking up his things.

Take him, Tristan mouthed to Solange, but before either of them could do anything, Leopold trotted over to Madame Hegel.

Madame Hegel was a plump woman and tall, with hair like the fuzzy end of a Q-Tip. Her black shift dress and thick, gold jewelry made her look elegant and unapproachable. She wasn’t wailing or lying on the casket, but her shoulders shook in a way that told Tristan she was crying – or, more likely, trying not to. During the whole process, Madame Hegel had been very composed and very reserved. She had told Tristan that she was a retired nurse, but Tristan would have sworn that she’d been a diplomat’s wife – or a diplomat – in a past life. Every word she said was carefully exacted. Deliberate. And she neither smiled nor cried. There was something stony about her that he reluctantly admired but also found almost terrifying.

“Leopold,” Tristan hissed. “Get back here.”

But Leopold didn’t listen. He marched right up to Madame Hegel and looked at her. Tristan inched forward. The closer he got, the better he could see Leopold’s expression. He looked determined. About what, though, Tristan couldn’t guess.

“Don’t cry,” Leopold said. His little voice came out like a coo. He patted Madame Hegel’s hand. “Please smile.”

Madame Hegel said nothing. For a moment, her shoulders stopped shaking. Leopold smiled at her and then reached into his backpack. He pulled one of the rocks from the walkway out and offered it to her.

“Rocks are lucky,” Leopold said. “Daddy told me. Lucky, happy rock.”

“Daddy” was – of course – Gwen. But when Madame Hegel looked back at Tristan and Solange, Tristan could almost see the cogs in the old woman’s head. In her mind, “Daddy” wasn’t an absent-minded pastry chef with crazy, curly hair and a penchant for mismatched high heeled shoes. Tristan did nothing to correct the unspoken assumption and instead inclined his head by ways of greeting, even though all he really wanted to do was disappear into the floorboards. He wasn’t going to explain that this was just babysitting or that he was beginning to believe that a funeral home was the wrong place for a child. Instead, he would soon be apologizing for Leopold’s behavior. You could almost taste the awkwardness in the air.

“Leopold…” he said. “Don’t bother the nice lady.”

“Take,” Leopold said, putting the rock in Madame Hegel’s lap. He patted her shin. “Feel better.”

And then, his work done, Leopold skipped back over to Solange.

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry—“ Tristan started.

But it was too late. Madame Hegel was smiling. And she was crying. At the same time. Tristan looked over his shoulder at Solange.

“I’ve got it,” he told her, not one-hundred percent sure if that was true. He’d think of something. “Just take Leopold into my office. Please.”

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

“You’re a genius,” Tristan exclaimed in a grateful voice. She beamed happily. She hardly thought it was a genius move to suggest getting him out of the way, but she wasn't going to stop her boyfriend if he wanted to think that. She rather liked that he seemed to consider her a genius in any sense of the word.

The moment got interrupted when Madame Hegel came in, arriving a few minutes early for the funeral. The elderly woman took a seat and Solange felt her heart ache a bit when she saw that the woman was crying. Not blubbering or wailing...just a wave of grief washing over as her loss became confirmed in her mind.

Tristan mouthed for her to take Leopold but when she glanced down, the little boy was gone. She looked back up to see that he was making his way over to the grieving widow. “Leopold,” Tristan hissed, “Get back here.” At the time she was stage whispering, "Leopold don't!"

Of course the toddler didn't hear them or was just ignoring them. He went right up to Madame Hegel and patted her hand in comfort the same way he had tried to comfort the dead girl in the embalming room. She found herself amazed by the obvious amount of compassion the little boy had for others. He had far more than any adult she'd ever seen and she sincerely hoped that he wouldn't lose that as he grew older.

“Don’t cry,” his small voice pleaded with the elderly woman. “Please smile.”

Madame Hegel looked back at them in shock as if wondering where the child had come from and why he was talking to her. Leopold continued on his quest to make her smile. He pulled out a rock that appeared to be from the walkway in front of the funeral home. “Rocks are lucky,” he declared. “Daddy told me. Lucky, happy rock.”

“Leopold…” Tristan said. “Don’t bother the nice lady.”

Again Leopold didn't listen and put the rock in Madame Hegel's hand. “Take. Feel better.”

Leopold came skipping back over to her and glanced up at her with a concerned expression. It was only then that she realized she had been watching the sweet, heartfelt scene with teary eyes. She quickly blinked them away best she could and offered the boy a warm smile to assure him she was fine.

Tristan was looking at her now. “I’ve got it,” he told her. “Just take Leopold into my office. Please.”

She nodded and took Leopold's small hand, leading him towards the office. They'd swing by and get the backpack too. Leopold looked up at her again with another concerned glance. She wasn't choking up anymore...what was wrong?

"Lady be happy now?" he asked her. When they'd left Madame Hegel was smiling a little through her tears. She honestly thought Leopold's innocent and genuine offer of a rock had done her some good.

"Yes. It might take a little while, but she'll be happy again," she tried to assure him.

He nodded in understanding but asked one more question. "Tristan mad?"

She gave him an assuring smile. "No. Tristan isn't mad," she told him. "He's just sad for the nice lady because she's sad."

Leopold smiled back, obviously relieved that his 'uncle' wasn't mad at him.

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

The funeral service itself was relatively normal for a funeral service. The Hegel children and grandchildren arrived. Tears were shed, hands were wrung; the guestbook signed. But Tristan couldn’t stop thinking about Leopold. He didn’t have the right to be proud of Leopold’s compassion or collectedness or whatever had been shining through since the kid got into the embalming room. But Tristan recognized it as something unique and he wanted desperately to tell Gwen and Torben that they had a really special kid and that he’d be glad to babysit Leopold every Wednesday from here on out.

Well, he would be glad, anyways, if Solange was up for it. After all, there would be plenty of Wednesdays where they were even more tightly booked than they were tonight. And it simply wasn’t fair to ask her to babysit in his stead. It wasn’t in her contract with the funeral home, after all. Tristan didn’t want to bring it up – didn’t want to further blur the lines of their private and professional lives – but he’d probably do it anyways, since Torben and Gwen would need an answer.

When the service was over, Tristan handed the guest book to Madame Hegel. She was again composed, but a tiny smile wriggled onto her lined mouth as they said goodbye. Tristan stood alone in the lobby and took a deep breath. Then he looked down the hallway. His office light peeked out from under the door, illuminating the otherwise darkened hallway. Tristan smiled and made his way to it. Once there, he stood outside the door, ear pressed against the wood, trying to figure out if Leopold was sleeping. He took his chances and opened the door.

Tristan’s heart plummeted into his stomach when he saw just Solange, sitting at his computer typing away.

“Where is--?”

A muffled cooing sound cut Tristan off and he peered down over the back of the couch. Leopold was nestled against the pillows, fast asleep and mumbling what sounded like names of colors to himself. Tristan sighed and smiled. He walked over to stand behind Solange – both to rub her shoulders and to see what she was doing. She had a spreadsheet with next week’s schedule pulled up. Tristan brushed Solange’s hair to the side so he could see her neck.

“You wore him out. And now you’re working,” Tristan murmured. No one had successfully worn Leopold out in an hour, except Gwen. Even Torben had trouble getting Leopold to wind down. And absolutely no one felt like working after playing a round of “Godzilla-Takes-Paris” with Leopold. Playfully, Tristan massaged Solange's neck and said, "Hmm. No off switch...”

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

The hour seemed to fly by. After getting his backpack from the viewing room she had ushered him into Tristan's office. They had stayed there basically the entire hour (other than a quick potty break) and had a blast together. He'd colored and told her all about the colors that 'mama' was teaching him about. The coloring picture had given him an idea to play pretend like they were dragons. He'd run around the entire room roaring and flapping his arms like wings. Finally she told him a story about dragons and eventually he had just drifted off to sleep in her lap. She'd laid him carefully down on the couch where he slept even now.

She hadn't had much to do after that. She had debated going out and helping with the service but she couldn't leave the little boy by himself even if he was asleep. Still she felt rather useless without anything to do. She'd decided to just log onto Tristan's computer and get some work done. There were still a lot of emails and scheduling to take care of. She could at least do something useful if she couldn't help out with the service.

It was just a short time later that Tristan walked in. She smiled up at him but was confused when she watched his own smile fade into a look of worried confusion.

“Where is--?” he began but was cut off.

She raised a quick finger to her mouth to quiet him before motioning to the couch where Leopold was sleeping away. She could faintly hear him going over the colors in his sleep which made her grin. What on earth was he dreaming about? Finally she glanced back up at Tristan, a little insulted that he'd thought she had lost Leopold that easily. She could keep him entertained for an hour, thank you very much.

"What, you really think I can't handle taking care of a three year old by myself," she asked very quietly with a small grin, a note of pride in her voice.

Tristan came to stand behind her and she sighed softly as his hands rubbed her shoulders while he gazed at the schedule for next week that she was working on. He brushed her hair to the side, his hand on the back of her neck actually a bit distracting. It felt very nice.

“You wore him out. And now you’re working,” he stated with what sounded like a note of surprise. His hand kneaded the back of her neck, making her sigh again, eyes drifting closed. "Hmm. No off switch...” he teased.

She gave a quiet laugh, swatting his hand playfully. "I am not a robot, you know! Of course I don't have an off switch," she declared with joking indigence. She reached up to grab his tie, pulling him down into a brief kiss. She smiled up at him. "How did the service go? You manage without me," she asked teasingly.

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Solange sighed as Tristan’s hands kneaded the knots in her neck. He smiled, but jerked back his hand when Solange reached up to bat him away. Then he leveled her with a quiet, curious gaze.

"I am not a robot, you know! Of course I don't have an off switch," Solange said indignantly.

Tristan laughed. All I need to worry about is an ‘on’ switch… he thought suddenly. It caught him off guard, since they were at work and there was a three year old sleeping on the couch not five feet away. Thoughts like that had no business hanging around Tristan’s brain while babysitting at work. But there was something stirring and attractive about Solange that Tristan couldn’t quite name, but could see and feel acutely. That ‘something’ only shone through more when Solange grasped Tristan’s tie and reeled him in for a kiss. He smiled against her lips and when the kiss ended, stayed just a little stooped so they were eye-level with one another.

"How did the service go? You manage without me?" she teased, smiling over at him.

Taking on the same, mock-offended tone Solange had used a minute ago, Tristan said, “What, you really don’t think I can handle a funeral service by myself?”

He put both hands on either side of the chair and spun it gently so that he and Solange properly faced each other.

“We make a pretty good team,” he said softly.

His grin stretched wide and he looked from Solange over to Leopold, who was still sleeping. It dimly occurred to him just how grateful he was to be running this business with Solange. He’d gotten by before, but there was a difference between getting by and thriving. Jacqui had to have known that when she urged Tristan to hire Solange, even if she hadn’t known that their future together would entail date nights and evening babysitting gigs. Another thought flitted across his brain while he looked at Leopold. A thought that brought him back to present day practicality with a swift kick to the cerebellum.

“Reminds me,” he said, turning back to look at Solange. “Gwen said something about ‘tango lessons every Wednesday’. Can we fit in more kid-wrangling next week, same time or should we tell Gwen to find another sitter?”

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

She smiled at Tristan as he lingered close after their kiss. She felt that same swooping feeling that had made her realize she might be interested in Tristan as more than just a boss or friend. It was the way she felt when he was looking at her like that that had her convinced that deciding to date Tristan was probably one of the smarter choices she had made in her life. Everything felt so natural with him, like she could just be herself. Even the teasing was easy and comfortable as she jokingly asked if he'd managed to handle the service without her help.

“What, you really don’t think I can handle a funeral service by myself?” he asked in the same mock indignant tone that she had used earlier, making her laugh.

"I don't know...can you?" she asked playfully, red lips pulling into a wry grin. She knew very well that Tristan was capable of taking care of the service on his own. It wasn't like he'd never done it before he'd hired her. Still, it couldn't have been easy. There were days when they could barely handle it together.

He spun her chair around to face him as he trapped her there with a hand on either armrest. “We make a pretty good team,” he mused with a bright smile that made her smile as well.

She placed a hand to his face, fingers brushing his cheek lightly as she looked at him warmly. "We certainly do," she agreed. She followed his gaze as he turned to look at Leopold still fast asleep on the couch. She hoped that Gwendoline would be able to get him to go to sleep later.

“Reminds me,” Tristan said. “Gwen said something about ‘tango lessons every Wednesday’. Can we fit in more kid-wrangling next week, same time or should we tell Gwen to find another sitter?”

"I think we can handle it. He wasn't any trouble at all as long as he's occupied," she said with a laugh. She looked back at Leopold and her gaze turned wistful. "I just really hope Gwendoline and Torben get to keep him. He's such a sweetheart. He deserves a good home with people who love him."

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Without looking at the computer screen, Solange agreed to future babysitting gigs for the Fontaine-Blau’s. Her palm radiated warmth against Tristan’s cheek and he shut his eyes for a content moment. He looked forward to every Wednesday from now on.

"I just really hope Gwendoline and Torben get to keep him,” Solange said. “He's such a sweetheart. He deserves a good home with people who love him."

Tristan opened his eyes and looked at her. There was something on her face – some hopeful looking ache – and it dawned on him (not for the first time) that he and Solange were both adopted as children. Adopted by family, but adopted, nonetheless. They didn’t talk about it. Not with each other, not with others. Tristan’s lips parted slightly as the cogs in his head clicked into place. His chest felt tight and heavy. Leopold’s future was still uncertain. And even though the kid didn’t know it, every adult in his life did. Some, more acutely than others.

“He does. They will,” Tristan said, looking over at Leopold again. “If anybody’s cut out for parenting, it’s Gwen and Torben.”