Michelle stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering. The lights in the hospital room had been dimmed for the night, and she unconsciously pulled her blanket a little higher around her shoulders, feeling rested and warm.

Mason had been returned to them after surgery, this time with a somewhat optimistic outlook from his doctors. Michelle had sat with Tony, watching Mason sleep off the anaesthesia for hours. She couldn't remember when she'd fallen asleep, or when Tony had placed her on the trundle bed, tucked her hair behind her ears and pulled the blankets around her.

Now, it was the middle of the night, and, from what she could hear as she struggled to awaken after going so long without sleep, Mason had regained consciousness. A nurse had left some yoghurt in the room, to be eaten by Mason when he finally came round. Both Tony and Michelle knew that if he could keep this food down they would allow themselves to share the optimism of the doctors. She supposed that was why she found Tony hovering beside their addled, sleepy son, determinedly keeping him focused on ingesting each and every mouthful.

'Okay,' Tony was saying quietly, obviously trying not to disturb Michelle. 'Here we go, next bite.'

She heard Mason give a muffled sound of disagreement. Tony wiped a trickle of dribbled yoghurt from his son's chin, his eyes traveling across his face.

'Mase, do you want something else? If you do you gotta tell me so I can get it.'

'N-nothing.'

'Not ice cream or anything? You could have chocolate, strawberry, whatever.'

Mason made another disgruntled sound.

'Imagine how happy mum will be to see you've eaten all this,' Tony said, his voice slightly shaky. He spoke softly in the dimly illuminated room, as though concerned about waking other patients on the floor.

Mason seemed to consider this for a few seconds.

'Mum?' he asked suddenly. 'Where…where is she?'

'Sleeping. Right there, see? I think she'll be happy to wake up and see the bowl empty. Don't you think we should make her happy?'

'Yeah,' Mason eventually said. He opened his mouth and took in the next small spoonful.

Michelle pushed the covers away from her and got to her feet. Tony looked up and watched her return to her place on the other side of the bed.

'Hi sweetheart,' she said, grateful just to see Mason's dark eyes focus on her.

'Mum,' Mason said, reaching clumsily for her hand. 'Look…I'm eating this stuff.'

'I know, sweetheart,' she said. 'I'm so proud of you.'

He nodded, as though he expected as much. Tony capitalised on the short break in conversation, slipping another spoonful into his son's mouth.

'Can we go home soon?' Mason then asked, another dribble of yoghurt sliding down his chin.

'Not yet,' Michelle told him, watching Tony dab away the spillage with his thumb and feeling her heart melt slightly at the sight. 'We're going to stay here for a while. The doctors want to make sure you're all better first.'

'But I want to go home,' he explained, his eyes filling with tears.

'Tell you what, Mase,' Tony said. 'How about I go home and get your Gameboy? And your clock and some toys? We could put them around the bed. How does that sound?'

They waited for Mason to respond, wading his way slowly through the effects of the medication. He thought this over for several moments.

'Yes,' he said finally. 'Yes, I want that stuff.'

Tony nodded. He passed the yoghurt to Michelle and turned to go. Michelle understood his need to do something, to have a purpose. Sitting around waiting to see if Mason threw up the food was agonising.

Half an hour later, Michelle looked up to see Tony back in the doorway, two bags in his hands. Mason was sleeping soundly once more.

'Did he keep it down?' was the first thing he asked, noting the now empty bowl of yoghurt on the side table.

Michelle nodded, unable to keep the jubilant smile from her lips.

'Yeah,' she said, her voice weak with joy, 'he kept it down.'

She watched him drop into his chair, looking effusively relieved. He scratched at his face, catching her eye. They gazed at each other from other sides of the room, sharing a growing sense of anticipation and hope. Mason was going to be alright.

She watched him move slightly, as though he wanted to get up and take her in his arms. She realised she wanted to kiss him, and knew he wanted to kiss her or at the very least hold her, but they both stayed in their seats. They hadn't yet talked about their last meeting before Landers had taken Mason, and it was currently standing between them like an insurmountable brick wall. In fact, things between them now felt incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. Michelle didn't know how much she still meant of the things she'd said and she didn't know how much of it had changed now that their son's horrific near death experience had put things into perspective. Was he angry at her? Of course he was, she knew that. The question was how much. She knew she'd broken his heart that night, she knew had destroyed him, put him on a path to ruination. Did he think she still wanted him gone? Did she?

A little while later she watched Tony get up and bring one of the bags with him. He sat down on the settee, close to her, but not quite touching.

'Brought you some clothes,' he explained, his voice coarse. 'And toiletries. I'm getting the feeling you're not intent on leaving him just yet.'

She gave him a thin lipped smile, and took the bag.

'Thanks,' she said. She looked up to find him still watching her.

'What?'

He seemed to be considering himself for a moment, as though unsure of exactly what was on his mind.

'The other night, when you rang Landers – before we knew that he wasn't here for you – you were going to do it.'

'Do what?'

'Hand yourself over. You didn't even think about it…'

She looked into his eyes for a moment. He didn't break it off.

'There was nothing to think about,' she explained softly.

He nodded, and slowly raked his hand over his head, his eyes on the floor.

'I want you to know nothing's ever scared me the way that did,' he informed her, his tone strangely curbed and formal, as though he was speaking to someone he'd met only moments ago. 'I couldn't let you do it…but I couldn't let you not do it either.'

She nodded, understanding precisely what he meant. She looked through the bag, mostly because she could feel the intimacy of the moment growing, and wanted to circumvent it before it got out of control.

'He's our baby,' was all she said to him, finding no other way to express herself than that, just the way she had that terrible night.

He nodded.

'Yeah.'

She kept digging through the bag, and jumped a little when she felt his hand beneath her chin. She looked at him. He trailed his thumb over her jaw, holding her tenderly. He seemed to be searching her eyes, trying to determine if things between them were bound to get worse or better, if their terrible fight still held meaning, if she still wanted him gone.

Looking into his eyes, she suddenly felt ambushed by nerves. It felt as though she was trembling slightly, and she turned away. She sensed him nodding resignedly beside her, and felt his fingers brush tenderly against her skin. He dropped his hand.

She'd told him she understood why he'd done the things he had done and she did, to her ebbing displeasure. She knew she couldn't continue to fling his crimes at him, not now, not when she had come so close to committing crimes of her own, and so now … now there was nothing left to do except open herself to him and take him back…

She couldn't turn him away, she knew that much…but if she kissed him now, took him back now, she knew she would be inviting him – all of him – into her new life, something she hadn't done yet, not fully anyway. She wasn't sure if she was ready…if she had categorised her feelings on the subject enough to allow herself to do it. It would be an enormous step and bring about huge change to her life and to Mason's. They would gradually become a true family, a single entity for the first time…it scared her as much as it warmed her. What if she couldn't do it? What if she couldn't stand the guilt she still felt, or the fear of knowing her husband could take lives in cold blood? It would be a lie to say that Tony didn't frighten her just a little bit. His temperament had altered slightly over the course of six tragic years, and he was more aggressive now; hardened and difficult to reason with. He had less control of himself and his emotions, far less ability to act in moderation, to make calm decisions. Perhaps these traits would ease slightly if she was careful with him, if she allowed him to let go of his pain and embrace a more peaceable life. It would take a long time, and until then she knew she wouldn't always be able to know what to expect.

'I…I might get changed,' she said, leaving his side.

Tony nodded and watched her go into the bathroom, allowing himself to feel hopeful because anything else hurt too much.

He leaned back against the settee, looking over at Mason. He was going to be alright. He had kept his food down, his vascular surgery had been successful, his cheeks were regaining colour. He was going to be alright. As he looked over him, Tony realised he wanted to give his son everything. He wanted to buy him every silly toy and game and gizmo he'd ever desired in his six years of life. Anything that made him happy, that made him smile. Every possibly opportunity and chance a child could have. Tony knew they were going to indulge Mason terribly in the coming weeks as he recovered, but he also knew that they wouldn't be able to help themselves. Michelle was right. Mason was their baby, their child. He was the living, breathing result of Tony's love for his wife. Mason encapsulated the way they had been, the way Tony wanted them to be once more, and Tony was sure he'd never looked upon a more perfect child in his life, bias be damned.

All the things Michelle had said to him the night of their last fight rang true for him as well. She had clung to their son as a baby, had adored him as a toddler, treasured him as a child because he was the consummate representation of them, the way Tony felt for her, the hungry, infatuated haze that had been their precious time together. When Tony looked at Mason he saw Michelle. He saw her in the moment he'd first met her, the moment she'd looked up at him with bashful, uncertain eyes and explained that she wanted to be more than colleagues, the moment she'd locked her lips with his and changed him in ways that had made his head spin. He saw their old passion, their once fierce devotion, the fun they used to have in his apartment, the one he'd convinced her to move into barely two months into their relationship. He saw all the things he had clung to during his time in prison for treason, the things he agonised over during their subsequent divorce, the things he revelled in when he got her back. He saw all the things he'd mourned and desperately craved once she'd been blasted away from him.

But now, their relationship had taken a human form, and Tony felt overwhelmed by it. Mason needed to be protected. He was their baby. He shouldn't have been dragged into their past, shouldn't have been hurt so brutally because of them. Now, all they could do was help him, watch him heal, assist him as he came back together again, and if gifts and treats and allowances were going to make him feel better, then they were more than warranted.

Tony looked over at the bathroom Michelle had disappeared into. He too wanted to do things for her, things to show her how much he treasured her, how desperately he wanted things between them to solidify, to repair. He felt certain there was another chance to be had. Of course, he also knew he couldn't manufacture it, or draw her into it. She had told him she understood. She didn't forgive him, but she didn't have to. Their relationship could reignite and survive on understanding. That would be enough. He knew things had to be on her terms and in her time. That was fine. More than fine, really. He just knew it was the uncertainty, the waiting, that was going to kill him. Of course…she might decide against it. That was still a possibility…it just wasn't one he could allow himself to entertain. That would kill him for sure. She was the end of the line for him. There was nothing beyond her, nothing past her.

He watched her return from the bathroom, dressed in the softest pair of jeans he could find in her room and a warm jumper. She'd washed her face and combed her hair and he felt a sharp jab of pleasure collide with his chest when she curled up next to him on the settee, her eyes moving across his face.

'You're beautiful,' he said quietly, without entirely meaning to, turning toward her, longing for her to move closer, just a little, so he would at least know to take her in his arms or not.

She suppressed a rueful smile. The way the compliment had flown off his tongue so easily brought back a million happier days, when he used to say that exact thing to her for no reason at all, just for something to say.

'You're tired,' she returned, looking at him. 'You should go get cleaned up and changed.'

He shrugged. He knew he needed a shower and a new set of clothes, but he didn't want to part company with either her or Mason unless he had to, unless it was for them somehow.

'I'm fine here,' he said dismissively.

'Go on,' she said. 'We can watch him in shifts. You know I'll call you if anything changes.'

He tapped his heel on the ground for a moment, looking reluctant.

'Go,' she again, her voice deliciously warm to his ears. 'Go back and sleep for a bit. I'm not going to leave him.'

'I know,' he said. He eyed her a moment. She blinked, looking like a vision to him despite her tired face and less than glamorous clothing. He felt his breathe catch slightly when he found concern somewhere in her eyes and realised it was for him. She wanted him to feel better, wanted him taken care of as well. He realised she wanted to hide her sentiment, or make it somehow less evident to him, but for one reason or another she didn't, possibly couldn't. Not tonight, anyway. He felt his heart slice open at her expression. It was enough to conjure optimism within him. They had a chance.

He suddenly took her hand in his and kissed the inside of her wrist. He kept his lips there, against her pulse, for a long time. The scent of her skin under his nose made him dizzy. He knew she'd rather he hadn't done it, and let go when he felt her shift uncomfortably.

'I'll be back soon,' he eventually promised. She nodded, giving him a strange look of mingled unity, warmth and uncertainty. Tony strode from the ward, feeling hope burgeon inside him.

xx