In all the confusion, Tristan hadn't noticed the make or model of the car he was sitting in. It looked remarkably expensive. Even Sarah's ride wasn't this luxurious. And the watch on Caleb's wrist... if it wasn't fake, it would cost more than he'd earned in a year. Nothing about his proclivity for taking in abandoned men made sense.

Caleb opened the car door for him, and despite the pain, Tristan wondered if he should run. As far as he could remember, Tibur's place was close by. But what would he say to him? My boyfriend, the one you used to refer to as my husband... he left me without a word, and now I've let myself be abducted by a rich stranger that thinks I've lost my memory. In his mind, the faces of judgement were looming. It didn't matter if he'd done nothing wrong... in the end it was always his fault. 

"Your legs are probably hurting from sitting for so long... do you want to rest a minute before we go inside?"

Tristan looked away as Caleb crouched and waited by his side. He wasn't used to so much attention, even if came from a psychopath; the silent patience he showed him was suffocating. Bracing his body against the open door, Tristan pulled himself up to his feet.

"Are you ready?" asked Caleb, offering his arm then awkwardly pulling it away as Tristan leaned against the car. 

His body was damaged and he had no weapon with which to protect himself; whatever happened behind the closed doors of Caleb's apartment would be beyond his power to control. He wanted to cry for himself. His steps were labored as they walked to the elevator. Was it too late to talk to the authorities..?

Caleb could sense his reluctance. 

"I just want to bring you home and take care of you" he told him, "There's nothing to be afraid of. This is your home. It's very safe here. Look - there are cameras everywhere, okay?" 

As further proof of his honest intentions, Caleb pulled out his phone and made a call; speaking in Modeshi until he was put through to the right person. 

"Hello, Doctor Perinna? This is Caleb Black, Tristan Scott's husband. We've just arrived home at the Phoenicia. I wanted to check the dosage for his pain medication." Caleb put the call on speaker-phone.

"As I said, two after food. It is quite strong - he shouldn't take them on an empty stomach."

Caleb offered the phone to Tristan but he didn't take it. 

"Thank you doctor" he said, ending the call and putting the phone in his back pocket. "I worry about you standing for so long... can I take you inside to rest now?"

Tristan nodded and followed him into the elevator. The doors closed and a code was entered on the keypad. As they opened again, Tristan found himself in Caleb's penthouse apartment. 

"Just rest on the couch while I cook you something" he told him. "I know you don't like anything too spicy... what about chicken? The protein would be good for you."

As his 'husband' busied himself in the kitchen, Tristan sat cautiously down on the l-shaped couch, inspecting everything in sight for evidence of Caleb's insanity. No sane person would bring a stranger home like this and play make-believe.

Ignoring the fear that it could have been dosed with sleeping tablets, Tristan ate the meal he was given. Why die hungry? After taking his medication, Caleb showed him to his room. 

"This is our bedroom" he told him, opening the closet and maintaining his distance so as not to scare him. Racks of clothes were hung neatly inside.

"This side is yours. But anything you want to wear, you can wear it." 

Tristan ran his fingers over the soft T-shirts and sharply folded pants, every piece looked to be his size. Ex-boyfriend's..? he wondered, before he noted the tags left hanging on some of them. They seemed brand new. In the en-suite bathroom, a toothbrush was sitting there waiting for him. Unlike Caleb's elegant design, his was cute and brightly colored,  just the kind he would have chosen for himself when he was still single.

"Don't try and shower tonight" Caleb had told him, "We'll change the dressings tomorrow."

Tristan nodded. From a drawer by the bedside, Caleb pulled out a pair of pyjamas. The pants were covered in little bunny rabbits, while the top looked large and cozy. 

"If it doesn't fit over your cast" he said, "there are plenty of other shirts you can wear. I just thought you'd like this one the most." Tristan took them. "Let me show you the lock... you probably don't remember how it works." 

It was difficult to tell whether there really had been something in his food, or if the events of the last two days had exhausted him, but it was a struggle for Tristan to keep his eyes open after they'd eaten. 

"You should get ready for bed" Caleb told him, "I'll sleep in the spare room tonight. Oh! And if you need to go out at all, the code for the apartment is our anniversary... 0429. It's the same on my phone if you need to use it."

Tristan nodded and walked into the bedroom; locking the door behind him and testing the handle. The furniture was built in; it was only when he'd found a chair to barricade against the door that he dared to sit on the bed. What about Caleb's clothes? His toothbrush..? What if he tried the door and got angry it was locked..?

Alone on the large, white bed, Tristan felt cold. 'There are cameras everywhere' he'd said... did he mean they were in the bedroom, too? He changed his clothes beneath the covers. It was hard enough with his injuries, never mind battling the comforter that continually got in his way. The pain had shaken away his drowsiness. 

He searched the bedside drawers and found nothing but clothes and a glasses case. Caleb Black. There were no deliveries from the store that came to mind, it was a name he didn't recognize. Whatever his motives, he'd be an idiot to trust a word he said. 

A seed of doubt sprouted in his mind. Had this all been some cruel joke..? Were Jed and Sarah watching him from the shadows, listening to his lies and seeing how far he'd take them?

'And so what? He just followed him home..? I wasn't sure he could get more pathetic than he'd already become...'

Tristan started crying in his sleep. His sobbing woke the man next door. 

"Tristan!" he shouted, "Tristan, are you alright in there? What is it? Does it hurt?!"

Caleb banged on the door desperately but heard no answer. His body sinking to the floor as he called out to him. 

"Just let me know you're okay Tristan. You don't need to open the door... just let me know you're okay..."

The lock was turned, and Caleb moved back. Through a crack in the door he could see his face, twisted in agony and wet with tears. Caleb threw all propriety aside as he pushed his way inside and carefully wrapped his arms around Tristan's body. 

"It's alright" he told him, "I'm here now." 

Tristan's fingers were clutching the hem of Caleb's T-shirt, unwilling to let him go, and yet too afraid to embrace him. Caleb held him so firmly, and yet so gently. Tristan's eyes could no longer keep from closing; in exhaustion, his heavy head collided with Caleb's chest. 

"Let's get back into bed..." 

He was led into the dark, back beneath the covers, and fell fast asleep in the stranger's arms. 

Caleb's fingers stroked his hair. 

"Just sleep" he told him, "Don't think... just sleep." 

The words were like a spell, as the thoughts that haunted him dissolved into darkness.

The man in his arms was so much more fragile than he could have imagined. He should never have walked away. He should never have let this happen...

When Tristan awoke he was surprised. Jed would never usually cuddle him like this. He snuggled closer to the heaving chest beneath his hand, delighting in the sound of a heartbeat other than his own. It was only when his arm struck the sheets, and the searing pain of his broken body reminded him of the accident, that Tristan realized where he was. 

"Are you awake?" asked Caleb, stirring beneath him and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Tristan would have pulled away but the pain was too much to bear. 

"Easy" said Caleb, helping him to sit and arranging the pillows behind him. "I'll make you breakfast so you can take your medication. You can stay in bed if that's more comfortable."

Tristan shrank under the covers as his 'husband' returned to the kitchen. What the fuck was he doing? Was he really that starved for human contact? He had to admit that he was. 

When Caleb called him, he crept out of bed and followed; eating his food as he was told and swallowing the tablets he was given. 

"Don't you have to go to work..?" he asked, noting that Caleb had yet to get dressed.

The plates were cleared away, and Caleb took a seat across from him at the table. Tristan didn't dare to look up. 

"I don't have to" he said, "But if you'd be more comfortable alone, I can give you some space. I know it won't be easy, adjusting to things... your injuries were severe." He sounded pained as he spoke, as if he wasn't just pretending. "And to lose your memories like that... I can't imagine how disorienting this all must be. It will take time to heal... we can deal with everything then."

Tristan touched the cast on his arm. "For now, what do I do..?" 

Caleb took a deep breath. 

"Whatever you want. Stay at home, go to work... just get better. That's all I ask."

"And my memories..? Wait for them to come back?"

Caleb stood up from the table. "There's no rush..."

"Even if I don't remember you?" asked Tristan, "Even if I never remember..?" 

Caleb rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It doesn't matter" he said, "I'll still take care of you. I'll still be your husband, Tristan. I can give you whatever you need. You don't need to remember a thing for me to do that."

Tristan waited on the couch in his pyjamas while Caleb showered and got dressed.

He's still here... Caleb told himself, scanning the room before he entered it. He had never cleaned himself so frantically before, scared that he might have left him while he had the chance. 

"How are you feeling? Do you want something more to eat?" 

Tristan shook his head. He wasn't sure how to say it, or if he could dare to make a request; but he didn't know how he was supposed to shower without looking it up online. 

"Can I borrow your phone?" he asked. Caleb handed it over without question. 

"0429" he reminded.

Tristan pressed the numbers in order. "Our anniversary..?" 

Caleb nodded his head. "You may not remember it... but it was the day we met." 

Tristan racked his brain. Which April? He wasn't sure if he had really forgotten a time when they met, or if it was just another lie he'd been told. 

His phone in Tristan's hand, Caleb walked over to the kitchen to hide the fear in his eyes. Please don't remember. Just stay like this... Please don't search for anyone you knew...

He was trying to calm his nerves when Tristan walked over and handed it back. 

"Thank you" he said, searching for the courage to ask for something more. "Um..." 

Caleb was ready to help him. "Is there something you need?" he asked, "Do you want me to remind you where everything is?"

Tristan nodded as he stared at his feet. 

"Plastic wrap..." he said, "Can you show me where we keep it..?" 

Caleb searched through the drawers until he found it, and handed a roll to Tristan. "Is there anything else?" 

Tristan shook his head and left.

When Caleb saw the search history on his phone he understood, sighing in relief that he hadn't searched Jed's name. He knocked on the bedroom door as Tristan was struggling to cover his cast. 

"Can I come in..?" he asked. 

Tristan nodded before realizing the need to speak. "Okay" he said, shuddering at the volume of his own panicked voice. 

"I won't try to help you shower, but let me at least help you cover your bandages..." said Caleb as he found him tangled in plastic. It was only the pain of bending down that had hindered Tristan's progress.

"Okay..." Tristan replied, sitting on the bed and pulling up the legs of his pyjama pants.

Caleb smiled. It wasn't much, but Tristan was letting him help. He grabbed the medical tape from the first aid kit he'd brought in with him, covering the cast and bandages with precision. 

"What about my head?" asked Tristan, "I want to wash my hair." 

"It's not a good idea" he told him, "you won't be able to see what you're doing, and it could still get wet even if you're careful. But... maybe I could wash it for you... if you'd let me?"