For the next couple of days, Jed slept in his office. Tristan was relieved. But he was also unbearably lonely. Sarah had stopped messaging altogether, and his friends at work no longer invited him to join them for drinks. Maybe Jed was right, maybe he did always ruin things for himself. As Saturday drew to a close, Tristan was expecting to spend another quiet Sunday at home. He dragged his feet as he walked back from the store, uncertain if Jed would be there to greet him. 

As much as he wanted to ignore how badly things had gotten, they were going to have to talk things over at some point. Tristan was even prepared to start job hunting again if it meant that he could appease everyone. One thing was for certain; they couldn't keep avoiding one another if they were planning on fixing things.

Entering the door code for the building, Tristan found that the elevator was out of order again. He gathered his strength and climbed the four flights of stairs to their apartment. A suitcase was sitting outside the door. It looked like his suitcase. The note escaped his attention; he was too busy fumbling with his key and trying the lock. With no copy to open the seldom used deadbolt, Tristan banged on the door and received no answer. 

He was about to call Jed when he caught sight of the letter beside his case. With trembling hands, he reached down to open it.

'I'm going back to Cabi with Carl and Sarah.'

It read simply.

'They were right - you've changed so much it's like we don't know you anymore. None of this was working out the way we had planned. It's better this way... there just wasn't a right time to tell you.

Since I'm leaving, the visa you're on will expire; I've already given notice on the apartment so you won't need to worry about making the next rent payment. Maybe you're better off just booking a flight home.  

Good luck with everything, Tris.'

Tristan read it three times before he understood its contents. Sounds escaped his throat that he couldn't fathom making. His eyes couldn't seem to close; it's like they knew - that the second they did, the tears that brimmed there would not stop falling. Without thinking, he tried his key again. He'd come this far. He'd moved across the globe, and was beginning to make a life there. What life was left to him now? Go home? What home? This was his home. Dad was gone and there was nothing left. This was all that there was.

The crumpled letter fell from his hand as the torrent of tears fell aimlessly from his eyes. He needed air. He needed to get out. Racing down the stairs, only the will to breathe kept his body from tumbling down them. This wasn't right. He hadn't done anything wrong. He didn't deserve to be left behind.

On the street, he reached for his dying phone, calling and calling but receiving no answer. 

"Pick up! Pick up you coward!" 

Sarah and Carl were the next he tried. The numbers were no longer recognized. Scrolling through his phone he scorned all the useless contacts he had saved. There were only three people that could help him, and not one of them would answer.

The emptiness in his heart was expanding, suffocating him from within as he tried to catch his breath. He screamed as the battery died on his phone. Where was his dad? Where were the arms to hold him? Why was he alone on the sidewalk in a strange country? He couldn't take it; his body stumbled wildly as he tried to search for the reason. The bile rose in his throat, wretching as the bitter darkness spread throughout his body. Why..? What had he done that was wrong..? Everything was so infinitely painful.. Why couldn't it just stop..?

His world was crumbling apart, and yet the ground refused to swallow him. His feet were leading him where his mind could not comprehend. As he reached the steps that led to the rocky coastline, he didn't even know that he was falling. For a time there was just pain, darkness, and the lonely breaths that escaped his broken body. And then, there was only the dark.

The hospital they brought him to was in the east. The Modeshi doctors were talking outside his room and he couldn't understand what they were saying. Tristan tried to reach for the water by his bed, and found that his right arm was broken. In his left was a needle. His mouth was dry but he didn't plan on speaking. Lying on the bed, he only hoped that when he closed his eyes again, the comfort of the darkness would return.

When the nurse came to check on the nameless patient with the broken arm, and found him awake, she spoke to Tristan in Modeshi. 

"English?" she asked him when he didn't respond. 

The patient nodded his head. 

"Can you tell me your name? They didn't find your ID when you were brought in." 

The sooner they knew who he was, the sooner he would be asked to leave the country. Tristan's eyes widened in concern.

"It's okay" she told him, "You hit your head when you fell, so it might be hard to remember everything right now. The doctor will come and speak with you soon."

Tristan wanted to wrap his arms around his body and hold himself, but between the cast and the IV, he was forced to lie there; exposed and afraid. When the doctor came, he pleaded ignorance. It was only a matter of time before his fingerprints would lead to his identification. For now he chose silence, there was no energy to deal with the shitstorm that was coming. Maybe in a day or two... maybe then he could handle the fallout of Jed leaving him behind. While his words would not come out, his tears refused to stop. Tristan's pillow was wet through.

Whether they believed him or not, Tristan didn't know. Part of him felt like he really didn't recognize himself; that the person lying on the bed was a stranger. His radius was fractured, there were abrasions on his legs, and he'd suffered a concussion as a result of his fall on the rocks. He didn't know how much his medical bill would be, or if there'd be enough left over to pay for a flight when they kicked him out. It was better to be nobody.

There was no television in the room, only three other beds, one of which was empty. The other men were silent; one seemed to have an upset stomach, while the other looked perfectly fine, sitting up in bed and reading his book as though he were at home. Home was such a wonderful thing. For all the problems he'd faced in his relationship; he still loved it when they could just stay in. It was comfortable and safe there; especially those nights when Jed was busy with work. He never told him, knowing that his words would be twisted; but just sitting on the sofa with Jed in the next room was enough. Having someone there just in case he needed them was more than enough.

The lonely day passed in blood tests and silence.

Tristan started to worry, that his time in the hospital was ticking down too quickly. They'd either discover who he was, or throw him out regardless. Every time the nurse came to his bedside he panicked; no more so than when the doctor came with her and drew the curtain around the bed. 

"Mr Scott..?"

It was too late. They already knew who he was. 

"Does that name sound familiar to you..?" 

Tristan nervously shook his head. 

The doctor sighed. It was clear he didn't believe him. 

"You suffered an injury to your head when you fell, but it's unlikely to be the cause of your memory loss. It is possible that you're experiencing dissociative amnesia; that you experienced some kind of shock prior to your accident... A man claiming to be your husband believes that you are Tristan Scott. He would like to take you home, but we are reluctant to release you to his care without ensuring your safety. Do you understand?"

Tristan nodded. They must have told Jed about what happened. It didn't matter if he was angry with him, or if things were really over between them; it was just enough that he'd bothered to come back. 

"Can I see him..?" Tristan asked.

The doctor looked tired. As he spoke to the nurse in Modeshi, Tristan felt his lies had been exposed by his eagerness.

"I'll let the two of you talk" said the doctor, "If you feel unsafe, press this button and the nurse will come and ask him to leave." 

Tristan held the alert button he was given in the palm of his hand. "Thank you..." he told them, not expecting he would need to use it. Whatever Jed would have to say about the trouble he'd caused, it wasn't likely he'd be violent. At most he'd be angry that his plans to leave had been ruined.

Tristan could hear voices in the corridor. His body tensed, and he tried to steady his breathing. What was he supposed to say? If he pretended to Jed that he couldn't remember, would he even believe him..? The door opened, and a figure appeared behind the curtain. As he stepped into view, the tension in Tristan's body was released. It wasn't Jed that stood before him. It was probably just another doctor. The man handed him the glass of water from the bedside. 

"You look pale" he said, "Here, it's important to stay hydrated."

The water was warm, but was easier to drink since the IV had been removed from his arm. The man waited patiently, and placed the glass by the bed once Tristan was done. His accent gave him away as a foreigner. If he wasn't a doctor, then maybe he'd come from the embassy to inform him that he couldn't remain in the country any longer. The sleeves of his dark blue shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and his silver-framed glasses were slipping down his nose in the heat of the poorly air-conditioned room.

Tristan shifted on his bed and tried to peer past him. Jed was probably waiting outside to talk to him. 

"Are you in pain?" asked the man, "Do you want me to call the doctor?" 

Tristan shook his head and eyed him curiously. 

"Who are you..?" he asked in a small voice, averting his gaze when the man's discerning blue eyes locked with his. 

"Ah..." said the man, avoiding Tristan's question, "I've been told you can't remember... who you are, or what happened. Is that right..?" 

If he was here to tell him that he'd lost his residency in Modesh, then maybe he would pity him if Tristan continued the charade. Rather than admit what happened... that his partner had left him and he'd lost his mind; it was better to play dumb to it all. It would be less embarrassing than admitting the truth.

"That's right..." said Tristan. "I don't remember anything."

The man slid his hands into his pockets. "I see..." he said. 

Tristan wondered once more if they were onto him. If the only person he was fooling was himself. He could picture Carl and Sarah judging from his bedside; You couldn't even handle a break-up that was a long time coming..? So much so that you pretended to lose your memory..?! What's wrong with you, Tris? Who would do something like that? Really, I think Jed is better off without you. You realize that he's faking, right..? The tears were on the verge of falling. 

"I... I don't remember..." Tristan repeated as his voice cracked.

"I'm sorry" said the man, "I didn't mean to push you..." 

He handed him a tissue and ran his fingers through his hair as he thought. 

"Let me help you to remember... but it's okay if you don't. There's no rush. There's nothing to worry about." 

Tristan dabbed his eyes. 

"My arm hurts" he told him. "Everything hurts..." 

He wanted to wail, to tell this stranger of all the pain in the hopes that it would lessen. The overwhelming feelings of grief were surging through his body, and his fractured heart like shards of crystal, stabbing at his chest with every beat. 

"Should I call the doctor?" 

Tristan shook his head, as the man leaned forward and wiped the tears that streamed down his face.

"Don't cry" he said, "I'm going to take you home." 

Tristan's crying stopped as if the words had enchanted him. Which home? To his home with Jed in Modesh..? Or the home he left behind? The one where he could no longer run to find his father. His large, wet eyes were blinking in confusion.

"Your name is Tristan" the man explained. "And my name is Caleb. You may not remember this... because of the accident... but I am your husband."