Recovery (Tristan)

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

She was so sick of being here! She wanted to go back to home and sleep in her own bed for once and eat some normal food. Apparently her doctor only wanted her eating bland food to help with gastrointestinal problems. A cup of coffee sounded heavenly right about now. Hopefully it wouldn't be long now.

She supposed it was her own fault really for ignoring the stomach pain. She'd been focused on getting work done, certain that it would go away. By the time Mathis had noticed her pain though, it was almost unbearable and he'd informed Tristan who had forced her to go to the hospital. A normal appendectomy she would have been out the next day. Unfortunately she had waited until her appendix had full on ruptured before going in which made recovery a lot more difficult. They'd had her here while they kept an eye on her and gave her antibiotic treatments to keep the infection from spreading.

Her days had been spent feeling completely restless and stuck in a hospital bed. The only thing that really kept her from going stir crazy was Tristan visiting. He'd make her laugh with crazy stories about the interns or bring books and movies to keep her entertained. She was certain he had a lot to take care of now with her being out sick like, but he'd never complained and still made time to come and see her as often as he could.

She glanced at the clock, wondering where he was. He seemed to be running a little behind today. She sat in bed, wearing a pair sweats and an over sized tee while she flipped through channels, waiting for her boyfriend to arrive. It would be a very welcome change from her usual boredom.

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Talking to Gwen had not calmed Tristan’s nerves. As he drove to the hospital from his apartment, he passed by the funeral home and saw the cop car still parked outside. Its lights no longer flashed, but the yellow crime scene tape still ringed the premises. It sent his heart plummeting to the deepest part of his stomach and the weight was so immense, Tristan considered pulling over until he could pull himself together. It had been a little less than forty-eight hours since a decedent’s wedding ring went missing from the embalming room safe; with any luck, the police would find it under the sink or behind the embalming table, where Tristan had looked a thousand times.

But Tristan hadn’t had a chance to tell Solange about any of it. After all, she was the one who he was going to visit in the hospital.

Her appendix ruptured a little over a week ago; how she’d worked through the pain was beyond Tristan. He’d seen decedents whose appendixes had been their demise. It was not pretty.

Come to think of it, the downward spiral of things began with Solange’s emergency appendectomy.

Tristan went into the hospital and made a trip to their gift shop. He looked through the bouquets at the flower shop with the uninterested disdain of a man who had seen healthier, better flowers given to dead folks than the selections meant for the living. He settled on a spray of red roses and baby’s breath – a woeful cliché, but better than the wilted daisies or fake-looking fluorescent mums.

When Tristan signed in on Solange’s floor, the nurse on-duty was one he’d known for years and she smiled at him, told him how her kids were doing, complimented his floral arrangement, and escorted him to Solange’s room with more cheer than Tristan was prepared to encounter. He was grim-faced as ever, with tired eyes and knots in his intestines.

Be honest with her, Gwen had told him when it came to telling Solange about the police and the missing ring and everything falling apart. But when the nurse said, “I’m going to tell Doctor Allard you’re here.”, Tristan couldn’t help but think that maybe everything here was falling to pieces too and that now was probably the worst time to have a serious work-related chat with Solange. The nurse opened the door and said, “Mademoiselle de Grace… You have a visitor!” in the same chipper voice before letting Tristan in and leaving them alone.

To his relief, Solange looked bored, not sickly. She was sitting on top of the starchy covers, dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. Overhead, the TV buzzed with life. Tristan smiled at her and crossed the room.

“You look great,” he told her before pressing a kiss to her lips.

He wasn’t lying to score points… Maybe he was a little… But she really did look great, all things considered. She looked healthier than she had in a long while and her skin no longer had the anemic color of someone who’d just gone through a surgery or blood transfusion. There was actual color in her cheeks. She didn’t look like she was ready to go to dinner at La Tour D’Argent or even to head straight to the office, but she looked good.

She was a sight for sore eyes. Until today, Tristan had never understood the meaning of those words.

Then, remembering the flowers, he extended them to her. “I thought you might like these,” he said. “To brighten up the room or whatever.”

He looked around the room. It was stale and uninviting all around. More like a cell than a suite. Tristan hated the upper-levels of hospitals. He vastly preferred the morgue. It was one thing to have a totally clinical and scientific space for the dead; quite another when you were treating a living person.

And an even scarier and stranger thing when that living person was someone you loved.

Tristan cleared his throat and pulled back.

“How are you feeling?”

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

The door to her room suddenly swung open, interrupting her busy schedule of game show watching which was generally the only thing on at this time of day. She was slightly disappointed when a nurse appeared in the doorway instead of her boyfriend. At first she was sure the nurse was just there to monitor her progress and recheck her vitals for the umpteenth time. But then the older woman smiled at her all giddily.

“Mademoiselle de Grace… You have a visitor!” she declared cheerfully before letting Tristan in and stepping out.

Solange smiled brightly (if a little tiredly) when she saw her boyfriend standing there. "There you are," she said warmly. "I was wondering where you were. Relief and just pure happiness bubbled inside of her, filling her with a warmth that only Tristan seemed to be able to bring her.

“You look great,” he told her, pressing a soft kiss to her lips which she happily returned, letting her fingers run through his hair just a bit.

He suddenly produced a thing of red roses, making her smile. “I thought you might like these,” he told her. “To brighten up the room or whatever.”

"They're beautiful. Thank you," she told him, bringing them to her nose to smell. It was true that 'their' rose was yellow tinged in red, but maybe that didn't apply anymore. After all, those meant 'Falling in love' and they weren't falling anymore, were they? So did that mean they were there? She gave Tristan another kiss, thanking him for the sweet gesture and trying to quiet her thoughts for a moment. She didn't need to answer that question right now.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her.

She sighed and and scrunched her nose up in a playful grimace. "Sore. Still very sore," she admitted. "But doing a lot better. Honestly, I'm just tired of being here. I'm ready to go home. I'm ready to go back to work. How are things there?"

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Tristan watched Solange grimace. A sympathetic grin tugged at his lips, but he realized with dread that “sympathy” wasn’t what he was feeling. He didn’t know what it was, only that when Solange said she was “Sore”, he knew that he didn’t want to cause her an ounce more pain.

Telling her about the missing wedding ring, the police search, the interrogations of their interns would cause her pain. And then she wouldn’t just be grimacing; she’d be crying. The foundation she was supposed to return to at the end of the week was cracked; no longer solid. And regardless of who was at fault, Tristan would take responsibility for it.

Which, in a roundabout way, meant that he would inevitably cause her even more pain than she was in now.

“I'm ready to go home,” Solange told him. “I'm ready to go back to work. How are things there?"

“The only thing you need to worry about is getting better,” Tristan told her firmly. He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand and shook his head. “Work will be there when you’re released. When you’re rested.”

He paused for a moment, thinking what to tell her. The moment she was released, he’d tell her everything. About the missing ring, about the police report, about the interrogations and his fear of lawsuit. Those things had no place in a starch white hospital room. Those things were for the private sphere. Whenever they could afford the luxury of a quiet dinner or a business meeting. He wasn’t letting her return to work without knowing what she was getting into, but he wasn’t going to make her heart race, her pulse quicken, her stitches rip open right now. He knew Solange. She would be angry. She might yell, but it was just as likely that she would count to ten. A lot could happen in ten seconds.

If any of that sh*t’s going to happen, Tristan thought with his irrepressible black humor. At least we’re in a hospital.

“Gwen says hi, by the way,” Tristan said. He thought about Gwen’s exciting news, considered telling Solange, but instead said, “She stopped by before I came here. Sorry I was running late.”

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

Honestly she felt like she had let Tristan down by ending herself up here for so long. She had been trying to be responsible by working through the pain. He'd trusted her when he'd asked her to sign one as his business partner; believed she could handle the responsibilities that came with it. But instead of being reasonable and going to see a doctor, she had made a call that could have killed her. She was alive, but she had missed over a week of work and left Tristan to deal with everything by himself.

But he hadn't said a word about it; hadn't gotten upset with her at all. Well, he had gotten a little upset at her for risking her health. But that was it. She asked him cautiously how work had been, wondering if he had a lot to deal with on top of trying to handle the interns.

“The only thing you need to worry about is getting better,” he told her with a note finality in his voice that only intensified her guilt. He was obviously highly stressed. She should have been there helping him! It was her job to do that! “Work will be there when you’re released. When you’re rested.”

She nodded, but looked down, averting her gaze. She twisted the stark white, scratchy bed sheets in her hands and bit her lip in thought. She just hoped that he wasn't too frustrated with her.

“Gwen says hi, by the way,” Tristan said.“She stopped by before I came here. Sorry I was running late.”

Solange smiled, taking his hand as she threaded her fingers through his. "Don't worry about it. I'm glad you guys got to talk," she told him. "How is Gwen? She doing well?" Solange couldn't help but remember the last time she had seen Gwen, how tired and listless she'd seemed.

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Tristan couldn’t believe that he’d successfully changed the subject. He thought for sure that Solange would notice that he was avoiding talking about work – something he never passed up the opportunity to talk about. He smiled a little, nervous smile when Solange held his hand.

Don't worry about it. I'm glad you guys got to talk," she told him. "How is Gwen? She doing well?"

“Oh yeah,” Tristan said. “Better than well actually.”

He thought about it for a minute, about his promise to Gwen not to tell anybody that she and Torben were pregnant. But Solange wasn’t just “anybody”. She was his girlfriend. And, frankly, she was probably itching for news of the outside world.

And this was the only good news Tristan had to give. Maybe if he told Solange now, she wouldn't be as angry with him later as she could be.

That thought gave him hope. Tristan hadn't felt hopeful in a while.

Gwen couldn't fault him for telling Solange a secret. She probably told Torben hundreds of thousands of things Tristan had told her in confidence.

A sly look overtook his features.

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked.

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

Honestly, Solange had been a little worried about Gwen ever since their conversation a few weeks before. She hadn't wanted to tell Tristan that she was concerned because then it just would have made him worry too. She had sort of convinced herself that perhaps Gwen just hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before. But now that Gwen was being brought up again, that concern suddenly filled Solange again and she asked if Gwen was doing well.

“Oh yeah,” Tristan told her. “Better than well actually.” He suddenly looked at her with a conspiratorial grin on his face. What on earth was going on? “Can you keep a secret?” he asked.

A smile spread across her lips as she slowly nodded. She didn't really know anyone that Gwen did. Who was she going to tell the secret too anyhow? "Yes," she said. "What is it?"

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

It was nice to feel something other than “anxious” or “exhausted” for once. Tristan couldn’t quite bring himself to the giddy excitement Gwen’s news merited, but what he did feel was about three-thousand times better than the mental anguish he’d been fighting off since Solange was hospitalized and Madame Lafollette’s wedding ring went missing.

Tristan wondered if sharing Gwen’s secret would make him feel better or worse.

Usually when people told him secrets, he didn’t breathe a word about them. But usually when people told him secrets, they were things like: “It was a suicide, but if anyone asks – especially her parents – it was an accident” or “Be careful with this one, Tristan. HIV positive. Embalming is going to be a b*tch. Keep mum about it, if you can. His folks will go apesh*t if they find out.” Post-mortem confessions were seldom fun and often depressing.

There was nothing un-fun or depressing about Gwen having a baby. Tristan had never been trusted with a pre-life confession.

He knew Solange could keep a secret. She kept his secrets for him, just like he kept hers.

Then be honest with her about the funeral home… Tristan pushed that thought away quickly. No way was he telling her that instead.

"Yes," she said. "What is it?"

“Gwen and Torben are pregnant,” Tristan whispered. “They just found out. First appointment’s, like, next week or something. But you didn’t hear that from me. I’m sure she’ll swing by the funeral home with ultrasounds afterwards.”

If there’s still a funeral home to “swing by” to…

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

Solange was extremely curious about this secret. From the look on Tristan's face it appeared to be something good at the very least. She sincerely hoped it was. Gwendoline deserved some good in her life. She was such kindhearted and giving person. Solange also knew how much Gwen meant to Tristan and hoped that Gwen's good news would bring Tristan some kind of happiness too. Lord only knew he deserved it too after having deal with everything by himself for so long. She quickly asked Tristan what the big secret was that she was suppose to keep.

“Gwen and Torben are pregnant,” Tristan said in a quiet voice. “They just found out. First appointment’s, like, next week or something. But you didn’t hear that from me. I’m sure she’ll swing by the funeral home with ultrasounds afterwards.”

A shocked grin spread over her face as she gave his hand a happy little squeeze. "You're kidding! Oh my word, you're not kidding," she cried in a low voice too. She wasn't sure why exactly...it wasn't like anybody here was going to tattle on them to Gwen. "This is so incredible! I'm thrilled for them!" Happy tears began to brim in her eyes but she was interrupted when her doctor suddenly came through the door.

"Hello, Solange...how are you feeling today?" the grandfatherly man asked kindly. He smiled at Tristan. "You must be Tristan. I'm Dr. Allard. Pleasure to meet you."

Solange smiled at the exchange and answered the doctor's question. "Pretty good. Still sore, but good," she told him.

"The soreness is to be expected. But according to your charts you are healing very nicely," he told her. "In fact, I don't see any reason you shouldn't be able to go home this afternoon. Perhaps Tristan can drive you home?"

"That would be wonderful!" she exclaimed hopefully, looking at Tristan. "Would you mind? I'm so ready to go home."

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Solange started crying anyways. Not loudly or profusely, but little puddles of tears shone in her eyes and Tristan mentally kicked himself. He was trying to keep her from crying in the first place. And even though these were happy tears, Tristan couldn’t help but think of them as a prelude to the angry or hurt or sad ones that would inevitably come when he told her what a mess things were at the funeral home.

But for now, Solange grinned and squeezed Tristan’s hand and that was as good as things were going to be for a long while.

"You're kidding! Oh my word, you're not kidding," Solange murmured. "This is so incredible! I'm thrilled for them!"

“Same,” Tristan said.

What he knew that Solange didn’t – about Gwen and Torben, anyways – was that they’d suffered at least one scarring miscarriage already. If there was any couple in the world who deserved to have children, it was Gwen and Torben. They’d already been entrusted with Leopold; now, there was another kid on the way. Talk about Fate’s funny way of working out.

The door to Solange’s hospital room swung open and an older man with a kind face and a crisp lab coat entered.

"Hello, Solange...how are you feeling today?" he said. Then, before Solange could answer, the doctor noticed Tristan, who stood and started to shuffle out of the way. But the doctor smiled and said, "You must be Tristan. I'm Dr. Allard. Pleasure to meet you." which made the situation a little less awkward.

“Hi,” Tristan said. “It’s good to meet you, too.”

What he really wanted to say was “thank you for taking care of Solange”, but he didn’t get a chance because Solange spoke up to answer Dr. Allard’s question, "Pretty good. Still sore, but good."

"The soreness is to be expected. But according to your charts you are healing very nicely," Dr. Allard said. "In fact, I don't see any reason you shouldn't be able to go home this afternoon. Perhaps Tristan can drive you home?"

Tristan’s mouth dropped open just a bit. There was a mistake. There had to be. Today? Now? Solange was free to go now? Tristan didn’t know whether he was more excited than he was terrified or if he was more terrified than he was excited.

Because unless he took a scenic route, they would drive past the funeral home to get to Solange’s apartment. One of the first things Solange would see – before she saw her cat or her friends or her living room – would be the mess Tristan had been trying to sweep under the conversational rug all afternoon.

"That would be wonderful!" she exclaimed hopefully, looking at Tristan. "Would you mind? I'm so ready to go home."

“Yes,” Tristan said. And then he realized he’d just said “Yes, I mind”, especially with his moody tone, which really sounded awful because under usual circumstances, Tristan wouldn’t mind at all. Hastily he said, “I mean, ‘yes I can take you home’. Not ‘yes I mind’. Of course I don’t mind.”

He could feel the color draining out of his skin again as he cursed a blue-streak in his head. Just when he had things under control, too. Maybe they could talk about it in the car…?

“She should probably rest, though, right?” he asked Dr. Allard. “Like, it’ll be a few days before she should go back to work.”

“She should get some rest,” said Dr. Allard with as small nod. “But there’s no reason for her to miss more of her life than necessary. Take another day of rest – at home - and I’ll write you a prescription for hydrocodone, Solange. No more than two a day. Only take as needed. Does that sound all right?”

No that doesn’t sound “all right”! Tristan wanted to shout. I need time to make things right.[/b]

Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and balled his fists so that his nails dug into his palms. He’d have to do some explaining – and quick – on the drive to Solange’s place.

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

It was such a relief to be told that in a short while she would be on her way home. She couldn't wait to see Lilly again and talk to Devi. It would feel wonderful to just be surrounded the familiar again. She felt like a little kid after a week of summer camp. Homesick and anxious be back her own bed. She turned to Tristan, asking if he would mind driving her home. It was a little out of his way she was sure it wasn't too big of a deal.

“Yes,” he said quickly, making her pause and blink for a moment. “I mean, ‘yes I can take you home’. Not ‘yes I mind’. Of course I don’t mind,” he hurried to correct himself. She smiled at him and shook her head teasingly.

“She should probably rest, though, right?” Tristan asked the doctor. “Like, it’ll be a few days before she should go back to work.”

She smiled a little at this too. It was incredibly sweet how concerned for her well-being he was. But honestly she felt fine! Just sick of being in the hospital which was easily about to be rectified.

“She should get some rest,” said Dr. Allard agreed. “But there’s no reason for her to miss more of her life than necessary. Take another day of rest – at home - and I’ll write you a prescription for hydrocodone, Solange. No more than two a day. Only take as needed. Does that sound all right?”

"That sounds great," she said happily. She turned to look at Tristan who didn't look nearly as excited at she was. In fact he looked kind of nervous about something...not a good kind of nervous either. Her blue eyes met his asking silently if everything was okay.

Dr. Allard smiled at her now. "Okay then! I'll go fill out the paperwork for your release and you can be out of here in a half hour," he told them. "Go ahead and get dressed and I'll send up a wheelchair."

Solange turned to look at her boyfriend once more, moving to sit on the side of bed. She took his hand in her own, looking at him with concern. "Are you all right," she asked softly.

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

At least Solange was happy for now. It would be incredibly short-lived, of course, so Tristan hoped she enjoyed every single second of excitement and normalcy she could. In the meantime, he just had to keep it together – keep his internal freak-out from becoming external - until they made it safely to his car. The way Tristan figured, he could tell Solange the truth in the car. She was unlikely to smack him while he was driving and even less likely to storm off while the vehicle was moving. Once they were in the car, they could talk. According to Dr. Allard, that would be in thirty minutes.

"Go ahead and get dressed,” the doctor instructed Solange as he walked to the door. “And I'll send up a wheelchair."

The door shut and Tristan stared at it dumbly. Half an hour. They’d be out of here in half an hour. Solange would be out of the hospital and Tristan would be in the doghouse. Great. Just perfect. Talk about mixed blessings.

Tristan startled when Solange took his hand in hers. He offered her a papery smile, apologetic and thin, and gave her hand a squeeze.

"Are you all right?" asked Solange.


“Yeah. I’m just tired or something,” he assured her. “That’s nothing new.”

What he didn’t tell her that it was more likely he was “or something” than “just tired” right about now. The last thing he wanted was for Solange to start worrying about him. She was just coming out of a lengthy hospital stay. Her job was on the line because of something that had happened without her knowledge. The last thing she needed was to think her boyfriend was a neurotic space-case, even if that was closer to the truth than “just tired”.

“Do you need help?” he asked, releasing her hand and moving across the room to look for her regular clothes. He needed to do something besides sit there and lie to his girlfriend. "Can I get anything for you?"

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

She couldn't help but be worried about Tristan. He seemed very distracted and out of sorts. Something was obviously wrong. She thought back to his conversation about Gwendoline. Solange wondered briefly if Gwendoline shared some not so great news along with her news about the pregnancy. She sincerely hoped that was not the case. He gave a tight-lipped smile and squeezed her hand though it was still far from reassuring. She smiled back at him encouragingly.

“Yeah. I’m just tired or something,” he tried to assure her. She wasn't quite convinced. “That’s nothing new.” She smiled and nodded. She just had to trust that he would tell her in his own time if something were really wrong.

“Do you need help?” he asked as he stood to go get her clothes. "Can I get anything for you?"

"Ummm...yeah. Hand me my clothes over there on the chair," she asked. "If you could just get together my books and magazines, I'll go get dressed."

It was the half hour later that was promised that she was wheeled down to the car. She sat in the passenger seat, smiling happily and giving a sigh of relief as Tristan pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

"Thank God," she breathed. "I can't wait to get home!"

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

He’d taken his car, since the hearse was being inspected right now. Tristan sat behind the steering wheel of his dark grey sedan and looked around at the interior, trying to imagine what the cops were doing to his other baby. They’d probably stripped the seat cushions and the floor coverings so they could stick flashlights in every cranny. A rock-hard lump of dread settled in Tristan’s stomach.

If they drove past – when they drove past – the funeral home, the police would still be there, still combing through every facet of his professional life. Every facet of Solange’s professional life, too. And the terrible thing was, there was next to no separation between professional and private lives for the two of them. Tristan wondered if the police would rifle through his desk or Solange’s and see the sticky notes they passed to each other with words like “Lunch later?” or “Excited for tonight” scrawled across them. They’d find the lucky rock Leopold left for Tristan in the cup holder of the hearse and see the call history of mourners and clients that was punctuated by “Blau, Torben”, “Fontaine, Gwendoline”, and “Kumar, Devi”, who all called the funeral home for reasons besides scheduling mom’s burial or ordering dad’s casket.

Solange was going to kill him for calling the cops and letting them pry into her stuff, if she didn’t kill him for the angry clients first.

Tristan put the sedan in reverse and eased out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

Thank God," Solange whispered. "I can't wait to get home!"

Tristan looked over at her and his mouth twitched involuntarily into a smile.

“I’ll bet,” he said softly. “Hospitals are the worst.”

Solange deserved to go home without any kind of stressors. To take a shower, get a night’s rest. But unless Tristan circled around the city to deliberately avoid passing the funeral home...

There’s an idea…

But she’d notice that he was deliberately getting onto the “wrong” street and they’d bicker about directions and she’d still find out about the investigation when she came back to work in a day or two. Tristan sighed.

“I need to talk to you,” he said. “About work. I didn’t want to say anything at the hospital because, well… You were in the hospital. And I didn’t want to stress you out.”

He had seven blocks before they would drive past the funeral home. Tristan just hoped they hit every red light between here and there.

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

The sunshine and fresh air felt amazing after spending the whole week in a hospital room. She'd rolled the window of Tristan's car down so she could feel the wind and warm air. She was in a much better mood than she'd been in all week. She'd said again (for what had to be the thoundsth time) that she was so happy to be heading home. Tristan had to be sick of hearing it, but he only just smiled at her as they began to pull onto the main road.

“I’ll bet,” he said softly. “Hospitals are the worst."

Solange smiled and nodded in agreement. She went back to looking out the window, just letting the sun beat down on her face. Her mind was mentally debating if she should call or text Devi to let her know she could bring Lilly back today if she wanted. Maybe the two of them could spend some time together.

“I need to talk to you,” Tristan suddenly spoke up. “About work. I didn’t want to say anything at the hospital because, well… You were in the hospital. And I didn’t want to stress you out.”

Solange felt her brow crease in concern. The look on Tristan's face had her concerned. Something was very wrong. She took his hand in her own, threading her fingers through his. She stroked his hand with her thumb, hoping to give him some kind of comfort.

"What is it, baby?" she asked softly. "What's going on?"