A/N This story truly wrote itself :) - And I've been sitting on it for like a year. (Also I know absolute shit about therapy and marriage counseling so please don't kill me, this is purely fiction)
****Also, this has nothing to do with the WTS or MMW universe! MMW is making some headway, so please send some good writing vibes my way :)
She walks into the room with her heart on her sleeve and a flask in her purse.
She's late.
He doesn't want to see her, and she knows it. And she doesn't want to see him, except that's not entirely true. But she won't admit that to him, like, ever. Well, unless he says it to her first.
He's sitting easy, legs spread wide open like his grin as he chats with the woman in the office. He's wearing the shirt that hugs him too tight, that outlines him. It's her favorite one. Goddamn him.
Tobias is never this early for anything. He wasn't even early to their wedding. And he's only this early to make her look even later than she is, and she knows that because she knows him.
Tris doesn't know which one of them spots her first but the frown Tobias sends the moment she rears her head, permeates his posture until he's slouched forward, eyes intently focused on his shoes.
As she sits she hates that that's the effect she has on him now, but it is what it is. It is what time has promised them. He refuses to acknowledge her after that, so she purposefully scoots to the edge of the couch. His annoyed grunt is her favorite sound, which is probably why they're in this mess in the first place. Or one of the few reasons, really.
The office is very zen. Plants she's only ever seen on Pinterest line the room and the small lady—even smaller than Tris—behind the desk reclines with a sweet smile.
"Mrs. Eaton," the lady nods kindly before taking her seat.
"Please," she smiles stiffly. "Beatrice."
Tris ignores the way his shoulders sag at that, and flattens down her dress.
"Okay," the lady hums. "Well, welcome to your first session." She pulls out a Manila folder and gingerly skims through a few sheets. "I see that your case has been forwarded from Dr. Mason and Dr. Lace?"
Tris flushes at that. "Yes," she winces. She hasn't been known for being the most compromising with the other specialists. It's not because she doesn't want to try and save her marriage, but their methods were too fruitless to even start. She'd read that Dr. Wu had an unconventional way of helping and the success rates were high, so really what did she have to lose anyway?
"Well," she folds her hands. "I like to ask couples first and foremost, what do you both seem to think the problem is?"
They speak at the same time, the blonde woman and the brooding man, rushed words upending each other's until it's a mess of garbled cacophony and the doctor has to hold her manicured hands up to quiet them.
"One at a time, yes?"
Tobias goes first even though Tris' mouth is already open. "She doesn't communicate."
Tris scoffs so hard it sounds like she's choking. "That's a joke coming from you."
He ignores her, but the clench in his jaw is proof that it hit him. "She doesn't have good judgement."
"Clearly," she narrows her eyes into slits. "I married you."
"Okay," Dr. Wu steps in with an airy laugh, but her brows are pinched. "Beatrice, why don't we let him speak."
She relents with a sigh, arms crossed. But it's in vain because Tobias just shakes his head once before settling back into his seat. "I'm done talking."
"And that," Tris shoots daggers at him. "Is my biggest problem."
That he was always done talking.
"Beatrice," Dr. Wu has no choice but to allow.
"He doesn't trust me, he's brooding all the time, he doesn't talk to me, he's disinterested, and he's never home," she says in one breath, drumming her fingers on the armchair.
She can feel him seething beside her, the energy is practically radiating off of him and she's sure if she squints, there will be smoke billowing out of his ears.
"And," she spits. "He has a temper."
"So does she," he roars.
Tris shoots an exasperated glance at the desk. "What happened to letting me speak?"
"Do you love him?"
Their face off is cut short at that question. It hangs in the air, and forces them to retreat, calmly back in their seats. But it catches them off guard.
"W-What?"
Dr. Wu readjusts her glasses before darting her eyes between the two. "Do you love your husband?"
"Of course," she says almost immediately because it's true. She looks over at him and he's staring straight back, fire snuffed out.
"And Tobias? Do you love her?"
"Yes," he swallows, not breaking eye contact.
Dr. Wu hums before standing before them. Yes she's short but she towers over the couple in their seats, and emotionally to be honest.
"So this is what I prescribe," she hands them each a small leather book. It doesn't have a title.
Tris flips through the pages, face scrunched. "What is this?"
"It seems to me," the doctor starts. "That you both just need to communicate more. And to do so, reveal the things you're too afraid to actually touch on."
Tobias shifts beside her and Tris hides her discomfort by bouncing her knee.
"Each page has a different task. One for each of you to do daily, for 30 days. Once those days are done, you will come back to me, but we'll have to check in every week."
It's simple enough, Tris decides after a moment, putting the book away in her tote and fishing out her keys.
"Okay," she stands, glossing over Tobias she smiles tightly. "Thank you doctor."
30 days isn't so bad. She can do this. After she's far away from the office, she whips out the flask for good measure, though. Just to seal the deal.
By day four, it's clear that Tobias is over this little experiment.
The first day wasn't bad, once they both got over their pride. But the second day the task instructed them to each call each other at random points during the day just to talk for five minutes.
So after playing with the keys of her cell, she rang him.
"Hi," she chirped when he answered. There was scuffling before he spoke.
"Tris?" Surprise punctured the gruffness of his voice. "What's wrong?"
She sputtered. "Nothing."
"So what do you need...?"
The impatience was rising in his voice and she was sheepish. He probably hadn't even glanced at the booklet.
"The task for today was to call you," she sighed feeling foolish.
It was his turn to sigh as he gave a task to someone near him before returning to the conversation. "Look, I'm at work. I can't talk right now."
She massaged her temple. "Of course you can't."
"What?" He had hissed.
"Nothing," she seethed and hung up. He had grumbled about it later but she didn't care. This is not a one way thing.
And today is no different.
So she doesn't accept it when he comes home from work that evening, and corners him at the coat rack, hands on her hips and a scowl etched on her face.
"Day four," she says plainly. And he looks at her like she's got three heads, shaking the cold off him and hanging his scarf.
"What?"
She sighs and nods to the book on their coffee table. "It's Day four. And the task for today is to make dinner together."
He warily takes stock of the ingredients lined up on the counter behind her and rubs his neck eyeing the stairwell. "Tris," he sighs. "It's been a long day. I was just going to go—"
Anger bubbles up inside her chest and makes way to her hands which she throws up. "I work too, Tobias," she scoffs. "And I've been trying to make this work." She marches to the island and shoves a bag of flour in his arms, which he scrambles to catch. "So you need to make it work too."
A sharp exhale is his acquiescence and Tris bites her lip to keep from smiling as she opens the fridge and takes out the eggs.
They work in silence, which defeats the purpose, but she's too afraid to interrupt their routine. Occasionally he'll ask for a whisk from the drawer nearest to her, or she'll borrow a spice in his hand to sprinkle over the pan, but it's never more than that. With a pang, she remembers times in the kitchen where their meals were more orderly than breakfast for dinner, and their smiles bright.
She chances a glance at her husband, the lines in between his brows aren't present, and there's a jilt to his mouth as he works. Suddenly, he turns to her, the question in his eyes before he even asks. "What?" His tone is softer and she flushes at it. "Nothing."
They've just sat down at their dinner table when she tries. "How was work?"
He shrugs, cutting into his pancakes. "Work was work."
She swallows her scowl. "Tobias."
Suddenly, his face pales and the fork clatters onto his plate. "Jesus," he chokes, hands blindly reaching for the glass of water near him.
Tris hovers over her chair, darting her wide eyes across the table and then back to him. "What?" She stammers. "Are you okay?"
Tobias gulps the majority of his water before jerking his hand towards his plate. "The pancakes," he croaks.
Tris, horrified, stupidly shoves a forkful in her mouth—because that's definitely something you do when your spouse just about dies—and her eyes fly open. "Oh my god," she groans, spitting it into a napkin before chugging her own glass. It tastes like pure sodium and she pushes her plate towards the center of the table, glaring at Tobias.
"You made the pancakes," the accusation clear in her words. "What did you use?"
He slams the glass on the table and narrows his eyes. "Eggs, flour, sugar…" and then the realization hits him as he looks past her at the counter. And she cranes her neck to follow his gaze then slumps back into her chair.
"Tobias," she says tiredly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You used salt instead of sugar."
Instead of admitting his mistake, he clenches his jaw and skirts his chair back. "I told you that I didn't want to eat anyway," he hisses and stomps towards the stairwell.
Here we fucking go.
Fury and incredulity blinds her as she brings her fists down onto the table. "You're actually blaming me for this?" She shakes her head so hard a headache starts to come on. Or maybe it's just from him. "I'm an idiot for even thinking you would want to spend time with me anyways."
She rises from her chair so hard, she knocks it over and takes the stairs two at a time just so she can be the first to slam their bedroom door, and falls with an exhausted huff on the bed.
"Tell me about your parents."
Tris' eyes shoot up first to Tobias who watches her carefully, then to Dr. Wu who smiles patiently, pen in hand, notepad resting on her knee. They've already discussed Marcus, and Tobias clenched his teeth the whole time he debunked his dead abuser. She wanted to hold him, or touch the knee that bounced so hard it looked like it would detach from his leg. Instead, she just bowed her head in deference, as if it shrink herself from him. Give him his space. And now, it was her turn.
"What do you want to know?" She asks quietly.
The dark haired woman purses her lips in thought before extending her hands. "Anything you would like me too." And after her client is wrought in pensiveness, she helps her out. "Describe their relationship."
It's easy to do so, and Tris relaxes a little, probing the memory of them she keeps locked away. "They really loved each other," a smile plays at her lips as she reminisces. "They were quiet and open and I never heard them raise their voice." She can see them now, in the kitchen of her childhood home. Her father coming up from behind his mother where she's cooking just to surprise her with a kiss. The blush that colors her even though she's smiling. "They just, really loved each other."
Dr. Wu's scribbling is a backdrop and then it's her voice. "And as no relationship is perfect, what do you believe their fatal flaw was?"
Tris winces at the word fatal but the answer is on her tongue instantly. "Sacrifice," she struggles to get the word out and reaches for her water bottle, swishing the water around before swallowing hard. Tobias' eyes are fully on her now but she doesn't turn to read them, she already knows.
It's no secret her parents were killed in an armed burglary, and the doctor most definitely saw that in her files so she doesn't waste words that she can't even truly say. They were at a bank, and when the thieves threatened to shoot up the place, her father had bargained his life for the rest of everyone else's. He was human collateral. Her mother refused to leave his side, and everyone was let go. But it went awry after cops had shown, and, well, when could you ever really trust the word of a robber anyhow?
You couldn't.
She was fifteen when it happened, and even after a decade, it still stings in her chest.
"Do you think that was your first perception of what sacrifice meant?"
Tris fidgets with the air and shrugs. "Maybe?"
And then.
"Are there patterns of that internalization in your own marriage?"
Tris doesn't understand the question but either her face bears all the confusion or Dr. Wu is very good at her job because she interjects.
"Has there ever been a time you have practiced a major sacrifice in your marriage?" She rephrases.
Tris blanches, turning fully towards Tobias who now conveniently doesn't look at her. "What did you tell her," she whispers in disbelief after a few failed attempts to speak.
There's no way he told her that.
The doctor removes her glasses. "Beatrice—"
"I...I didn't put that in the files," she assures, glaring now, though the tinge of shock hasn't left. "I am not talking about that."
Dr. Wu is pleading with her as she straightens up her purse and swats furiously at her eyes that her traitor husband now meets and she stands.
"I'm sorry," she pretends to laugh but the sound is hollow. "I just realized I have a dental appointment."
She's out the door before Dr. Wu can respond but he catches her in the hallway with a tug at her coat sleeve and she yanks it away so quickly when she whirls to face him she has whiplash.
"We agreed," she seethes, adjusting her purse on her shoulder. "That we would never bring that up in a session."
Tobias hangs his head before he looks at her again. "If we're going to do this, we need to. We have to bring it up."
The irritation coats her throat now. "No! We don't!" She yells, her screams echoing before a car beeps and she remembers where she is, lowering her voice. "We're not."
The telltale signs of him blowing up begin. The shifting of his feet, the rise of his shoulders, and the bulging vein at his temple.
"I know that was hard for you," he grits out, his hand twitching as if he wants to hold her but decides against it. "I'm sorry. But this is important—"
She growls - he's still not listening - and stomps away from him to her car.
He doesn't follow.
"He hates me," she laments around a glass of red. Her head is practically hanging off of the couch where she is sprawled.
"He doesn't hate you," Christina dismisses, combing her fingers through her best friend's hair.
Tris raises her eyebrows in doubt. "He hates me," she puckers her lips, the finality of it all is so distasteful.
Christina's ministrations falter for a moment, and Tris knows that she knows she's right. Her best friend's candor is usually the bane of her existence but right now Tris could use the truth. Maybe it would help.
"In any case it's my fault," she sighs. "I introduced you two."
"Stop that," Tris reprimands. Their freshman year of college feels like a lifetime ago. Yet she would gladly give up these tense days for carefree ones drinking beer on the roof of their dorms and a rendezvous on the quad.
"Plus, it isn't like I'm not screaming too," Tris blandly adds.
"Whatever," Christina gripes. "You have a reason to scream. At least you're trying."
As if on cue, the front door snaps open and Tobias struts in, slowing only a little to shrug off his coat as he takes in the ladies in front of the fire before stalking off to the kitchen.
"Hey," he haphazardly tosses, rummaging through the cabinets.
"Hi," Tris barely says, eyes glued to the flames.
"Chris," he nods to her unimpressed, a bag of chips in hand as he crosses to the stairs.
"Hi asshole," she sneers.
Tris pleads for peace with wide eyes as Tobias stops short at the bottom steps, gripping the rail so hard his knuckles turn white, before bounding up the steps.
"Chris," Tris groans, after their bedroom door is shut. "Are you insane?"
Her friend shrugs, downing the rest of her glass. "Nope. Just pissed."
Tris understands. Her friend is her confidant. She doesn't have a mother to talk to about it anyhow. But it's still uncomfortable to see this dynamic.
"What went so wrong?" Christina asks the air. "He hasn't been able to keep his hands off you since college. And then suddenly this year it's like he's gone rogue or something."
Tris sits upright, feeling lightheaded. Whether it's the wine or her situation, she doesn't know.
Christina's face lights up. "Wait," she starts carefully, concern in her eyes. "Do you think it could be because—"
Tris goes rigid. It couldn't be because of that. It wouldn't be. They had moved on from it. Christina smiles softly at her friend before relenting.
"I'm not sure," she surveys her glass watching the red liquid move around. "I guess those are what the sessions are for."
"How are those going by the way?" Christina ponders and Tris hands her the book Dr. Wu gave them from where it sits on the coffee table.
As she flips through it, Tris sets her glass down and draws in her knees. "Every day we're given a task. It's supposed to last for a month but," she shakes her head. "It's day 13 and he clearly does not give a fuck." It's been all her the whole time. All this effort and for what?
"Day 13," Christina reads. "Take a bubble bath with your spouse..." Her brow arching as she shuts the book.
Tris snorts. "When Hell freezes over."
Christina smiles devilishly, rising to her feet. "Consider it the ice age."
"You can't be serious. You saw the way he looked at me just now."
"Oh come on," her friend presses. "How long has it been since you've...you know?"
Too goddamn long. The ache between her thighs seems like a permanent fixture on her body now and her fingers can only do so much...
"A while," Tris settles for, hoisting herself up from the loveseat.
Christina looks at her like she's the dumbest person in the world. "Then go!" She flings her hands towards the stairwell.
When Tris hesitates, Christina sighs dramatically and thwacks her friend's bottom before making a break for the entryway.
"It was in the book," she sing-songs, throwing on her shoes and coat.
"Yeah," Tris hums unconvincingly and leans on the wall, watching her friend reach for the door.
"Then," Christina spins her fingers against the cool air. "Doc's orders!" She shuts the door after blowing a kiss.
Tris warily stares up the stairwell.
She leans her head back into the water, enjoying the way the tendrils of soaking hair feel on her shoulders. It turned tepid a while ago but she ran the hot water again.
Wiping her face, she thinks about the many outcomes of tonight. This could end up so wrong. What if he looked at her and was disgusted? It had taken her so long to be comfortable being intimate with him. In every way. And now, it's been so long. Or he just walked out? She shivers, maybe she needs to run the hot water again.
The shuffle of his feet through the hall is unmistakable and it's now or never.
"Tobias," she calls sinking deeper under the suds. "Could you come in here for a minute?"
Their upstairs isn't that big, so she knows he's heard her, the mattress creaks confirms it and her belly squirms with anxiety.
The surprise on his face as he enters is replaced with confusion just as fast.
"Tris," he closes the door behind him but stays frozen. "What's going on?"
She can't look at him suddenly so she stirs the water to create more bubbles. "You haven't showered yet," she mumbles slowly. "I just figured..."
He blinks and she feels so utterly stupid. "It was in the book," she weakly whispers.
When she looks up, he's at the edge of the tub eyes locked on hers. "I haven't showered yet," he affirms.
The only thing she can do is nod dumbly while he tugs on the rim of his shirt before shedding it. The pile of clothes on the tiled floor grows until their eyes meet again.
His expression is inscrutable, but as he lowers himself into the tub, the blaze in his eyes aren't the reflection of the candle flames.
Their bathroom is small, and the claw foot tub even smaller so both bodies are funnily disproportionate; Tobias' knees reaching Tris thighs and his toes scratching her waist.
Tris moves to grab the shampoo and when her breasts leave the water, in the corner of her eyes he stares.
"Turn around," she commands once she returns to the water, and he dutifully moves his back toward her.
He's so much taller than her, bulkier, that she has to balance awkwardly on her knees to reach his head.
His hair is longer, her fingers tangle in the brunette waves and he sighs into her touch. She can't remember the last time they'd done this. They were always sharing the shower instead. But even that was so long ago.
"You need a haircut," she absentmindedly says and freezes the ministrations. The last thing she wants is for that to come off as an insult and for them to pick a fight as they are literally naked. But all he does is shrug and she's grateful.
Gently, she forces his head close to the water and cups where there aren't bubbles to pour over his head. He looks so peaceful, eyes fluttered closed, lashes twinkling in the water droplets. Then her hands trail down his neck as she rubs the soap over the broad expanse of his shoulders, tattoos darker and shimmering through the suds.
She doesn't realize she stopped until Tobias opens his eyes. "You okay," he asks.
She wants to kiss the lines on his forehead that never go away but she continues to wash him instead. "Yes," she lies.
She dares her hands lower, but at the swell of his bottom she pauses and it's enough time for Tobias to swing back around in all his soaked glory.
"Your turn," he says in a strained voice.
His hands are larger than hers, so when his palms graze her nipples, it could be by accident, but they still pebble and she still moans.
He stills and the tension is palpable.
She draws his arms onto her chest like a snake and his hands wrap around her breasts like a suction cup.
The water is suddenly very hot.
She leans back into him unconsciously as he kneads her nipples, his hands have always been callous and the grooves and dips of his palms do something magical. And his chapped lips burn into her neck and underneath her jaw.
This is the closest she's been to him but she can't register much besides her own moans. And it's so good but she needs to see him but the second she turns her head his arms go limp and sploosh into the water.
"I think I'm clean enough," he decides quietly bracing his hands on the rim of the tub to stand.
She's stunned speechless.
"What have I done to you that is so bad," she starts shakily, willing herself not to cry. "That you can't even look at me."
He's quiet.
"I must disgust you," she humorlessly laughs. Insecurity upon insecurity swimming through her head.
"Don't say that," he snaps loudly. "That's not true."
"Then what?" She barely gets out through a clenched jaw. "What, Tobias?"
When he doesn't respond for the second time, she gets up out of the tub.
What a mistake.
Her foot is the culprit, or the floors, because when she steps out, her sole slides and she releases the rim to balance herself but instead falls right back into the tub.
And she lands right on his...
"Mmm," she mewls, her toes curling on impact of their own accord at the electricity.
Tobias hisses at her warmth hovering over her thighs before digging his nails into them and thrusting her upwards by habit. They don't move. But it's impossible to untangle themselves without something giving.
It's twister in the tub.
His length is rock hard at the apex of the corner where her stomach meets the inside of her thigh, and she knows she shouldn't, she knows it, but she's only human and arches up ever so slightly that he hisses, veins popping at his temple. She pleads for whatever he's fighting against to surrender, just for a moment.
His tip probes her and doubt clouds his pupils but she doesn't give him the time or choice because she sinks onto him anyways and that's it for them.
Tobias' eyes are still close as he trails his raisined fingers from up her thighs to where they always sit, right under the swell of her breasts and this is enough to empower her to move. This little bit of the old him.
Arms outstretched to either edge of the tub, she raises herself until she's empty and slides down again until he's at the hilt of her.
"Tris," he moans, her movements rendering him completely slack. She peers at him for only a moment before the electricity forces her eyes shut again.
He can't get enough of her, his hands a flurry of touches on her ankle, her knee, knotted in her hair as he attacks her lips. Water sloshes as she picks up the pace, and they are both writhing against each other, soaking wet in every way, all clarity completely submerged under it all.
"Oh God," she sings and Tobias swallows her tune, tugging at her bottom lip but he releases it breathing out a pained "Fuck."
It is so good. So good. And it's been so long. And she is starting to fall apart and her hips lose the rhythm they have. And and and...
He knows what to do, and when he reaches down to graze that bundle of nerves, that's it for her.
With a gasp she unravels, ecstasy undoing every inch of her. And of course, her undoing has always been his. The shudder reverberates like a vibration through him.
Then there is the return of silence and common sense. Neither of which are welcomed. Breaths slowed. Water still.
It's not two minutes after when he jumps out of the top, spilling water everywhere. "We shouldn't have done that," his eyes are pained as he rips a towel from the bar. "We're not at a hundred emotionally or mentally and we should not have done that."
She's stunned for the second time that night and the confusion overtakes the satiation.
He slams the door so hard that a candle blows out and she lays her head against the tub.
She's never felt so close to him, yet so far away.
It happens the next evening, shame still clinging on to her like a sweater, from the previous night. She's so focused on stuffing her duffel bag full that she misses his sloppy footsteps until he's closing their bedroom door behind them.
"Where you goin'," he slurs, she folds a sweater into the corner with more force.
"You're drunk," she spits.
He circles her, the stench following him until he stumbles into a kneeling position. The fact that her first instinct when he leans into her is to reel back saddens her and the guilt halts her packing. He's looking at her so intently, even in the drunen haze, and he flicks his eyes to her hands.
"You leavin' me?" He whispers.
She's going to spend the weekend at Christina's and Will's to get some space from him and the situation especially after last night. But when she opens her mouth to tell him this, his eyebrows dip and his eyes grow hard.
"I shoulda known," he growls and uses the bed frame to stand.
Tris drops the tank in her hands and crosses her arms, chin jutted out. "Should have known what?"
Tobias lolls his head around like he's trying to shake something out of his brain before he looks at her again, nostrils flaring. "You always choose everyone else over me," he bites.
She drops her arms, absolutely indignant at this petulant display and fishes the forgotten tank out of her bag to fold again. "Tobias," she barely gets out. "The reason I'm doing this is because of you!"
Wasn't it fucking obvious?
"Oh gee," he bounces to his feet, but his eyes are still mean when he leans back against the door. "The sacrificial gene didn't pass you up, huh?"
And
she
sees
red.
She tries to reason with herself. Tries to placate the blood rushing through her ears with the fact that he is just drunk and doesn't know what he's saying, but she's off of her knees and right in front of him anyways. And the prickle behind her eyes still sting anyways. Because that dig hurt.
There's a twinkle of soberness in his eyes, and he sags his shoulders, he walks around her but she steps back against the wall. "Tris, I—"
She decides if he's going to hurt her over and over, she'll hit him where he can't bear it.
"You," she starts dangerously, eyes black with maliciousness, "are just like your father." Throwing blows right where it fucking hurts.
It does the trick and the weight of her words knock him over to the edge of the bed. The gears are turning in his eyes as he mulls over what she's said. The fog of alcohol rolling.
"I am nothing like him and you know it," his words catch and he swallows before zeroing in on her. "You know it."
"I don't know anything anymore."
Then he's up and his fist goes flying.
For a moment, she flinches, petrified that it'll break contact with her cheek but it whizzes past her into the wall above her head. The asphalt sprinkling like snow, peppering her hair.
"What are you gonna do!" She bellows, and though her voice is loud, it wavers. "Hit me? Go ahead then, do it!"
Tris knows Tobias immediately regrets his action because the way he looks at his fist, coated in white, is pitiful. And whatever apology he's going to say is overshadowed by a deadly mix of pride and pain. So instead, he flexes his left hand, the glimmer of the band of empty promises twinkling in the moonlight.
"If you really think that," he takes off the ring. "Then maybe this won't work after all."
She stares a hole larger than the one he just made into her shoes as he leaves.
Somehow the ring on the bed makes this whole thing more real. Maybe a glass of wine will stifle the blow of an imploding marriage.
She blindly runs down the stairs, almost falling until she's in the kitchen searching the cabinets for vodka or rum or anything to numb the pain and erase tonight. But the one bottle she has is knocked over to the ground in her haste, and the shatter rings in her ears.
She bangs her knuckles against the floor and the shards jump at the vibration, her hands bloody as she rubs her chest willing this pain to go the fuck away but it doesn't. The leather book is in her line of misery and she pushes herself up, wiping her nose and chucks it against the wall.
The next morning, she brushes past the frazzled secretary, insisting that she make an appointment before storming into Dr. Wu's office.
"It isn't working!" Tris slams the book down on the desk before pacing back and forth.
Dr. Wu is the calmest she's been and she stands, hands flat out on the cover.
"It hasn't been the full thirty days yet, Beatrice," she reassures, but Tris is already growling before the sentence is up.
"What does it matter?" She yanks at her ponytail, finally sitting down with a huff. "He hates me. Truly hates me. I made sure of it last night."
"What happened?" Dr. Wu is already in her seat, but her notebook stays in her desk this time.
Tris can't look at her because everytime she replays the look on Tobias' face when he compared him to his father, it aches. "We had a fight," she says thickly. "And things were said. And I really hurt him." She groans. "But he really hurt me too."
Dr. Wu doesn't break her collected veneer when she does a one over at Tris but the blonde woman shakes her head, explaining the events of what conspired. There weren't any physical bruises to her. Only to her heart.
"He left the house and hasn't come back yet," she sniffs hanging her head. "And I don't think he's coming back."
Dr. Wu is silent and Tris is a little irritated at it but finds that she has more to say.
"I knew he wasn't going to hit me," she explains softly. "He would never do that. He's never done it." She sighs, playing with the edge of her sweater. "But in my heart, I think I really wanted him to."
"Why?" Dr. Wu asks.
"Because it would make it easier to walk away," she cries to the air. "And not question what happened to make us this way.
"I have tried everything to make him love me again," she confesses. "And I'm tired. I'm done."
She wipes her eyes, definite and stands, the book now in her hand.
"Thank you for all your help," she says, extending her arm. "But this marriage is...too far gone to save."
Dr. Wu receives the book and cradles it to her chest. For a moment, Tris feels bad, but the older woman only nods.
"Beatrice. I'd like to talk about one more thing, before you go, if you'll allow it."
Tris warily eyes the door. She's burning to leave this place that gave her the false promise of resolution. But after she does, she won't know what to do. What comes next. So she sighs, sitting back into her seat and looks at the doctor with hooded lids. "Okay. What is it?"
"The baby."
"There isn't a lot to say," she manages to grit out. "I was pregnant. And now I'm not." And it was true, but the pointed look, the most ferocious one her therapist had ever given her—which isn't saying much— urges her to speak more.
"I was in my third trimester, last year. Everything was fine the whole time, and then this freak complication happened and I had a choice to make." Her life or the baby's.
"And what did Tobias say?" Dr. Wu probes.
"He said it was up to me. But I made it that minute in the hospital," Tris looks away. "Anyways, it didn't matter in the end because it was a close call and...I lost her."
"That's a major thing," says the doctor, but it's redundant. Tris knows that she knew about this. She only restated the facts on the files, so she nods rather furiously. "Yes, I know."
"And how did Tobias react to this ordeal?"
"Well what do you think?" She snaps before apologizing. "We went through the same shit."
"But did you, really?"
"Yes," she says unsurely, furrowing her eyebrows.
"Maybe there's something deeper there. Talk to him."
She feels like an idiot, suddenly. If she's being honest, they didn't really address what had went through their own bouts of grief, yes, but they never discussed it fully. She couldn't, it was too painful, but she didn't realize that this could have been the seed that had sown this huge rift in their relationship.
"I'm sorry," she concedes, realizing how crazy she must seem just bursting in like this. The remorse for impropriety a reprieve from the regret swirling through her head. "I really should go, you probably have other appointments."
When she moves to make a break for the door, Dr. Wu gently stills her with one hand, and holds the book in the other, pressing it into her client's chest. "Please, take this," she begs quietly.
Tris is uneasy, shifting her feet as she reluctantly receives it from her doctor before sighing deeply.
"What if it still doesn't work?"
She can't take another false promise. Another shot in the dark, especially right now, where it seems like everything is turning to dust around her. But Dr. Wu leans back against her desk, fingers drumming on the wood and beams at the blonde woman.
"It will, because I used it."
Tris' mouth falls open at that. "But you're so," she flails her hands and Dr. Wu laughs.
"Marriage isn't easy, Beatrice. The important part is to persevere despite everything telling you to leave."
She tries to imagine her put-together, dainty-lipped, lovely lady of a doctor arguing and fighting with her own husband just as Tris and Tobias had, and she literally can't. But, the idea that people like her are going through similar experiences is the most reassuring thing she's ever gotten out of their sessions. It gives Tris a little confidence.
"Beatrice," the doctor's voice wavers, her facade cracked open. "Do you love him?"
Tris bites her lip and refers back to their first meeting.
Her heart breaks all over again. "Yeah," her voice catches. "I do."
The little book is teetering on the edge of her stomach where Tris holds it haphazardly, but the doctor gently pushes it back into her client's chest.
"Then keep going," she urges.
She's washing the dishes when her cell phone rings.
Annoyed, she fishes it out of her purse, suds getting all over everything and holds it in place with her shoulder.
"Hello?"
"Mrs. Eaton?" A sturdy voice asks.
She starts the faucet, trying to place the caller. "This is she, who is this?"
A sigh. "Mrs. Eaton," he repeats. "This is Officer Crowley from the Dauntel County Police Department."
She drops the pot she's rinsing onto the floor, and the clangor— and the blood rushing through her ears— blocks the rest of what he's saying.
"I'm sorry," she breathily gets out, "w-what did you say?"
He explains the situation but she only hears the core. A car accident. Hospital. Tobias.
She doesn't bother draining the sink, or wiping her hands before running with the keys straight to her car and driving numbly to the hospital.
"I'm looking for my husband," she barely gets out at the check-in desk once she arrives.
"Name?" The clerk pops her bubblegum.
So she gives it to her and is given a room number in return. She suppresses the urge to run and instead counts her steps to keep herself calm. What was the last thing she said to him? What's the last thing he said to her?
She doesn't know what she expects to find. No one gave her any details but he's alive at least, and that's the threshold of good, although it does little to dispel the thoughts of picturing him hurt. But when she draws back the curtain, there he is, propped up by the cot, looking entirely himself.
He sees her the exact moment she sees him and he gives her the smallest smile.
"Hi," he croaks and she walks in. There's gauze on his right bicep, a cut on his temple, and his lip is busted, but that's it. That's it.
"Hi," she gets out standing beside him, her eyes welling up.
"You look like shit," he smirks and it's such a stupid thing to say, that she actually laughs at the irony.
"I could say the same for you," she replies quietly.
It's awkwardly quiet for a moment, the beeping of his monitor filling the silence and the shuffling of nurses in the hall.
"What happened," she asks at last.
His face grows a little hard and she draws the veil back around them for some privacy. "Some asshole sped through a red light," he sighs. "And I was collateral."
She nods because what else can she do.
"I told them not to call you," he admits not meeting her eyes.
Her own widen at this. "Why not?" She hisses, the danger rising in her throat.
Because we aren't on the best of terms, she expects him to say. Because I can't stand you.
Now is not the time for this, but he matches her fervor all the same, sitting up before narrowing his eyes.
"I didn't want to worry you," he says instead, slowly. "And I know how you feel about hospitals."
She gnaws at her lip to keep the tears at bay. He thought about her when he was the one in the wreck. She's angry at how selfless it is because she wants to yell at him but she can't.
"Hey," he says sharply, but the fight in his eyes is gone. He looks so tired. "I'm okay," he reassures, taking her hand.
She doesn't know what about that breaks her but it does and she swats at the tears in vain as they free fall.
She tries to speak but it's caught in her throat and in one swoop, Tobias pulls her into him.
"I was so scared," she hiccups in his neck, curled into him like a fetus.
This is the closest to him she's been in months and she relishes his smell, the feel of his hair even if it's slicked back with sweat and blood.
"It's okay to be scared," he whispers, the tremor so faint in his voice, muffled by the kiss he plants to her head. "I was too."
She's being selfish. He was the one in the accident. He could have lost his life. He's the one in the hospital gown, with the gauze on his side and angry red marks. But the realization is still new that she could have lost him. For real.
A nurse walks in then, too focused on her clipboard to notice them around each other like a vice.
"Knock Knock, we need to take some ...," She rattles off before looking sheepish. "I'll give you two some time."
"No," Tris says, drawing away from Tobias, the loss of warmth, immediate. "Do what you need to do."
She wipes her face and looks at her husband, ever so gently pressing her lips to his, right on the bruise.
"I'll be back tonight," she promises, thumbing his chin and he closes his eyes, leaning into her touch, before she gets off the cot entirely.
She doesn't look back at him when she leaves because leaving him alone in the hospital hurts her, even if only for a few hours, but it's a telling sign that she truly could never walk away from him.
Once she's back at home, she doesn't make it up the stairwell before collapsing. Clawing at her chest, she screams into her arm.
She hopes he can never do the same.
In the days after the accident their conversations are at normal volume, and their neighbors actually come over to make sure they're all alive and well because the lack of screaming is "so out of character" for them.
"Very dramatic," she'd sneered shutting the door behind them. And Tobias opened it just to slam it again. "Very," he'd agreed.
Slowly, she'll inch towards him, and he'll start sitting near her. Chaste touches return. Heads lean on shoulders. Hips bump hips. They start to return to each other.
But it all really can be attributed to his near-death experience. And he knows that because one day, while he flips a pancake—sans the salt—he turns to her. "You're treating me like I'm going to break," he says, turning off the stove and bringing the plate to where she sits on the couch.
She tries not to focus on his limp as he approaches but it's hard not to.
"I'm sorry," she takes the plate he offers as he sits, but she isn't.
The two only take a few bites of food when her eyes shift to the booklet on the coffee table beside them. It's been forgotten in lieu of what had happened, but she never stopped thinking about that day in Dr. Wu's office. Her promise.
Tobias catches her staring at it, and puts his fork down, twisting around her to grab it. She eyes him uneasily as he flips through the pages. They have been doing so well, well, without proper communication. But she doesn't want to burn this bridge that she's constructed with him.
"It's time for task 28," he reads, the tone in his voice inscrutable. "Have an honest conversation about your fears."
Her stomach turns and she averts her eyes, ready to stand. "You should rest."
"I am resting," he promises holding her back. "With you."
Her heart pangs at this because it's been a while since he's said something like this. And even then, being remotely sentimental is still hard for him at times. So she stays, leaning back into the throw pillows.
She just says it. "Are you angry with me because I couldn't carry the baby?"
Tobias' eyes fly open, and then they sink. "No, is that what you think? That I...no. I could never."
"Then what," she pleads.
He re-positions himself before speaking.
"My biggest fear has always been the possibility of losing you," he begins, fidgeting his hands. "Ever since college. So when you were pregnant, and the doctor gave us, gave you that choice between yourself and the baby. I…" he trails off, until Tris hollowly nudges him with her knee to go on. "I was so hurt." And the way his voice catches and rumbles in his throat has her up on her knees, hands rubbing his arms in encouragement.
He chuckles but he's frowning. "I'm not good at this. Talking."
"You are," she whispers, still holding him. "Please. Keep going."
It's a minute later when he clears his throat. "I was hurt," he reiterates. "It made me feel like at any other decision, you would give yourself up just as easily."
She's frozen at his words.
"And I know that it was our baby," he continues. "And I know the absolute Hell you went through after. But when we started to get back to normal...I tried pushing you away, because the prospect of you ever being gone was just," he shakes his head, exhaling sharply. "Too much."
She's still holding him but she doesn't feel him. Her palms are numb as she takes it all in, and then something wet plops down on their conjoined hands. It's her tears. Tobias immediately curses as Tris swats at her eyes.
"Do you remember junior year," she swallows thickly, settling back against him, "when I got hurt and I needed to do that surgery?"
He nods slowly and she smiles. "You told me to be brave when I was scared shitless. And ever since then, I have recited that in my mind every single time I've to face something scary." Tobias is still sort of hunched over, head bowed over her. So she scooches closer, in between his legs and forces him to look directly at her. "When I had that choice between myself and the baby, I tried to be brave and choose her. But I never wanted to have that ultimatum. I never wanted to sacrifice myself. Or leave you.
"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," she says earnestly. "I'm so sorry for ever making you think that I would ever willingly leave. I'm sorry for not talking with you about it. Or anything else."
"Tris, don't apologize," he whispers harshly, but he cups her face and kisses her head. "I acted like a child."
She's too enraptured by his touch that she doesn't hush him and he trails the kisses down her face, her ear and under her jaw. "I love you," he breathes and it tickles her chin and constricts her heart.
"Say it again," she whispers, leaning in.
"I love you," he says again, against her lips this time. "And I'm sorry, for hitting the fucking wall and-"
"You aren't your father," she gushes into his mouth, interrupting him. "I was just saying that because I was mad and I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me and I shouldn't have said that and I'm" she moans. "I'm sorry."
And then she's on him and he's on her and there's no telling where he begins and she ends.
"Tobias," she all but cries pawing at every inch of him above her. "Don't you ever" kiss "leave" kiss "me" kiss "ever again."
His shirt is already off and he's trying to unbutton hers but he's more focused on the taste of her tongue. "I won't," he swears. "I won't. I love you."
She could sob but it would ruin the mood. She settles for ripping off their clothing instead.
"I love you," she moans against his neck as he rocks with her, inside of her.
"I love you," she screams against his lips, exploding, absolutely alight.
He envelopes her after, arms and legs protectively cocooning her, her backside flush against his thighs and his head dipped into her neck.
And she's never felt safer.
There's a new plant by the window of the doc's office. A monstera, maybe.
He won't let go of her as they sit. He moves from holding her hand to squeezing her knees to rubbing circles on her back and Dr. Wu brightens as she greets them before sitting down.
"Beatrice," she beams. "Tobias."
"Hey doc," they both say together before chuckling.
"Still talking over each other I see," she laughs and they follow.
The older lady looks even brighter than before, if that's even possible. New eye glasses sit above her nose and she pushes them up before sitting behind her desk.
"I believe congratulations are in order," the doc says. "When are you due?"
Tobias splays his hand out on her protruding abdomen. "Any day now."
It was an accident. Kind of. Not really. But it happened all the same, and this time they were ready for whatever would come their way. There's still uncertainty and the fear. But there's also them. The new and improved them. And they'll be okay.
"I have all the confidence in the world that you'll be exceptional parents," she praises.
"Well it's all thanks to you," Tris interjects, crimson at the compliment.
"Yeah," Tobias adds in. "Thank you doc," he says. "Truly."
She bashfully shoes her hand at them but a smile pulls at her lips.
Their last session goes on without a hitch, and they mostly came to see Dr. Wu anyways, so their conversation is full of laughter and playing catch up. It's only when they stand to leave that Tris remembers.
"Oh Doc," Tris lights up. "We never found number 30 in the book."
Dr. Wu smiles and opens a drawer at her desk before neatly unfolding a piece of parchment and hands it to Tris with a wink.
Tobias leans down and kisses her once and twice.
"Ready to go?"
She smiles. "Yeah."
It's only when they descend in the elevator that Tris opens the paper, smoothing out the wrinkles on her arm, and peers down at the cursive writing with a knowing smile.
Task #30
I told you, it always works.
Fin.