Martin was released from hospital the next day with orders to take things very slowly. He had an appointment the following week with his neurologist for a follow up. He was growing frustrated with his condition but as he exited the hospital, relief overshadowed everything else. He was going home.

The ride home was quiet. Louisa had left James with Emily and driven to Truro early, hoping Martin would be released quickly. It was early afternoon before he was cleared to leave. Both had grown nervous as they waited for his release and now that they were in the car, both were more comfortable but neither really was in the mood for talking.

As they approached the village Martin cleared his throat. "Erm…. Perhaps we could drive past the house on Church Street?"

"Yes, we can. But why, Martin?"

"I um, I wanted to see it again after..."

"Alright then, we'll drive by but then home. You were told to rest and I intend to see that you do it." Martin looked at her with a sideways glance, unsure of what she was thinking. She seemed calm enough which helped him relax.

The car slowed as they turned the corner onto Church Street. Martin craned his neck to see the front of the house, the terrace, and the steps which he had tumbled down. A grunt from him told Louisa that he'd seen whatever it was he wanted to see. "Alright if we go home now?" she asked quietly.

"Yes… I just… I needed to see."

Reaching across, she covered his hand with her own. "It's alright Martin. You're alright; bumped and bruised but on the mend."

"Right," he replied evenly but she knew by the way he clasped her hand that it wasn't just his body that was feeling bruised. In her mind, she knew he would retreat for awhile and she began to prepare herself for it.

By the time they made it into their cottage, Martin as exhausted. He looked at the stairs and sighed. Seeing his consternation, Louisa suggested he settle on the couch in the lounge for a little while. Martin agreed quickly and made his way there. Louisa brought in the bag that contained the clothes he'd worn the day before and took them straight to the laundry room. She would assess the damage later. As she stepped back into the lounge she realized Martin was watching her every movement. "Feeling better? Hmmmm? Being back home and all…" she asked.

"Yes." He replied, his eyes still fixed on her.

She settled next to him but refrained from getting too close. Unable to read his mood, she thought it best to leave a little distance. "So, Emily is bringing James back soon," she offered, hoping that Martin would open up a bit.

He glanced toward the door and then looked back at her, his eyes wide and inquiring. Louisa felt there must be something bothering him, something he didn't want to talk about. "Right, he mumbled.

Her eyes began to feel full as she watched him. It felt like she should say or do something but she was learning that instant responses often caused her to confuse him, so she paused to think. His eyes were beginning to look tired and she realized he might need a nap. Perhaps that was why he was so withdrawn. "Martin, would you like to lie down until James is home? You could do it here, not climb the steps just yet."

"I… I' he glanced around. She knew he wouldn't think it proper but it would be easier for him. Finally, he seemed to decide. "Yes, I think that would be good," he declared.

"Alright," she agreed as she stood to make room for him. "Slip off your shoes?" she suggested as he began to shift.

"Mmmm, yes," he said as he toed them off. She watched as he methodically placed them on the floor at the left corner of the couch. Then shifting again, he lifted his legs and eased into a reclining position, on his back of course, she observed with a small grin.

"Well alright then, I'll just go straighten upstairs a bit then; let you rest."

But as she stepped to move away, his hand shot up to catch hers. "Stay with me, please," he said very quietly.

Surprised by this, she looked down to see him looking up at her worriedly. "Yes, of course," she replied. He filled the sofa so she moved to take a chair when he tugged on her hand again. "No, here with me…"

"But… there's no room," she said.

Suddenly he was upright again, patting the cushion where his head had just been. "Here."

Befuddled by his behavior, she did as he suggested and sat on the cushion. Martin scooted around a little and then gingerly stretched out again, this time on his side with his head in her lap, much to Louisa's surprise. "Oh…well, alright," she told him as he nestled his head more comfortably. He looked up at her uneasily but just beneath that she thought she was something of the wounded little boy that was at the very core of Martin. Her hand was stuck, pinned by his head though. Carefully she pulled it out but then what should she do with it, she wondered.

Martin had his arms folded in front of his chest but slowly his hand moved until it came to rest on her thigh. She thought she heard a soft moan from him, a pleasurable one. Finally understanding what it was he needed a tiny smile quirked at the corner of her mouth as she decided on the best place for her own hand. Resting her arm on his shoulder, she let her fingers trail through his hair, gently caressing his scalp. He twisted his head slightly to look up at her anxiously but there was the beginning of a smile on his face as well. She continued her caresses as he once again settled his head in her lap. She could feel the tension leaving him as they remained there quietly for the better part of an hour. At some point in that quiet time Louisa realized that Martin was learning to trust her, trust in her love, their love, and in them.

Martin was angry with himself for over taxing his body and frightening Louisa. It added to her worry, he knew, and having the extra trips to Truro would be a nuisance as well. Upsetting Louisa always frightened him somewhat. He never meant to upset her, well… almost never. But experience had taught him that when Louisa gets too upset, she runs away. He didn't think he could stand it if she ran away again. He knew he was an awful lot of trouble lately, more so than usual. He just couldn't seem to keep from mucking things up.

Last night at the hospital, without her, had been horrible. He'd been so lonely that it hurt. As they drove home, he kept replaying the incident yesterday in his mind, so he'd asked to drive by the place. As he'd told Louisa, he just needed to see it. She hadn't argued and they had driven by. He didn't know what he thought to see, but as he looked at the terrace where he lost his legs and the steps he'd tumbled down, he hadn't felt much of anything really. Normally he would have felt angry or hurt or embarrassed, but as he looked, all he could think was that it was just steps, not unlike so many other steps in the village. Slowly the idea began to grow in his mind that it was an accident, not his fault really. He wasn't feeling his usual need to be defensive for fear of looking bad; he wasn't really feeling much at all except that he was glad Louisa had been there with him yesterday and that she had come back for him today. And then the idea grew that his loneliness last night was different than what he'd felt most of his life because he wasn't alone anymore. He'd always had people around him before, but he'd still been alone. But now, there was Louisa… and James; but mostly it was Louisa who filled the void that had plagued him all of his life.

When she went to leave him, he had an overwhelming need to have her close. It wasn't a sexual desire like he so often felt for her; no, it was something more basic. So he reached for her and even though he saw that it confused her, she stayed with him. She stayed.

Her fingers felt soothing in his hair. He couldn't remember anyone ever doing something like that to him. He could feel her love through her fingertips as they worked over his scalp. And he could feel the peace between them, even though there was still so much swirling around them. She was here and he was here and at least for now, that was all that was needed.