Caleb had offered to drive them back to the store, but Tibur and Millie told him to stay and take care of Tristan. Besides, it was easier to talk without him there. 

"Thoughts?" asked Tibur. 

Millie shushed him until they were out of the building. 

"What?" he asked, "Did you think the place was bugged?" 

Millie glanced up at the high-tech security systems stationed around the Phoenicia. "Would you be surprised if it was?" she replied, "I didn't dare breathe wrong in case someone was listening. What do you make of the rich guy?"

"Not as controlling as I thought he'd be. But difficult to figure out. He didn't smile much, except when he was looking at Tristan."

"Maybe he just doesn't like us because we're poor" suggested Millie. 

As stoic as he appeared, Caleb had actually seemed pretty welcoming for the most part. What Tibur said was right though, there was no way to tell what he was really thinking. If Tristan was better they would have found a way to grill him for the details, but for now they were left with unanswered questions. 

"See if you can get a moment alone with Tristan when you drop those books round. You can ask him yourself how he's really doing."

In the penthouse, Tristan sniffed and wiped his face. Shaking off his vulnerable state, he walked to the window to see if he could catch sight of his friends as they left. The angle was too high to get a clear view of of the streets below, but it gave him a chance to clear his head.

"Don't stand for too long" said Caleb, "You should try and rest your legs." 

Tristan bowed his head and apologized. 

"Don't..." the words stopped. Caleb could feel his anger rising, and it was important not to speak too rashly, lest his vitriol towards Jed be directed at Tristan by mistake. "I don't mean to scold you..." he clarified, "I just worry."

Apologizing for his every action had become second nature to Tristan. 

'You want to order a glass of white..? But we've ordered a bottle of red for the table...' 

'Sorry... red is fine.' 

'You left your shoes by the door again? What was the point of me buying a cupboard if you're not going to use it?'

'Sorry. I'll put them away.' 

He couldn't remember a day since he started dating Jed, that he hadn't needed to apologize for the constant mistakes he'd made. He never felt that Jed or Sarah's criticisms came from a place of concern. So why was it Caleb was so worried?

That night, Tristan slept through until morning. His door remained locked, the chair pulled in place; and as far as he could tell, Caleb had not tried to disturb him. Breakfast had been served, and as soon as he opened the door, he was called to come and sit at the table. 

"Eat something, then take your medicine" said Caleb, placing a plate and a glass of water in front of him. "Tibur will be round at lunch with some books. I'm going to head out shortly and get you a new phone, is there a particular model or color you'd like..?"

Tristan was overwhelmed by the level of care he was receiving. 

"Like my old one I suppose..?" he said, not sure what he was allowed to ask for, but keen to make contact with the outside world independently again. 

Caleb nodded happily. "Not a problem. I know exactly the one." 

When he left, he advised Tristan to contact the security guard if he needed assistance, and to rest until his guest arrived. If the man taking care of him was not his abductor, he would honestly be thankful for his help. But still he didn't understand. What did Caleb hope to gain from all this? By the time he found out, he was worried it would be too late to escape from it.

Waking up at twelve, the doorbell was already buzzing. 

"Hello..?" Tristan asked wearily into the intercom. 

"This is Tibur, we er... met yesterday" came the familiar voice, "The security guard sent me up in the elevator but I don't know how to open the door." 

Tristan pressed all the buttons on the keypad until at last, Tibur emerged. 

"What about your husband?" he asked. 

Tristan shook his head. 

With Caleb out of the way, it was the perfect opportunity to check on his injured coworker. He just hoped Millie had been wrong about the surveillance. 

"Are you feeling any better today..? I'm sorry if I woke you." 

Tibur followed Tristan to the large l-shaped couch and placed his backpack on the coffee table. 

"I... I think my legs are improving" he told him quietly. 

"Good!" exclaimed Tibur, determined to at least brighten the mood with just the two of them. "You know, Tibur and Tristan, at work we have the 'two Ts'..."

"Like two T's in a pod..." said Tristan without thinking.

"Yes..." said Tibur, "Exactly that." 

Despite Caleb's warnings, he couldn't keep from asking after his condition. 

"Are you beginning to remember things? Is it starting to come back to you..?" 

Tristan's eyes darted wildly around the floor. 

"Bits and pieces..." he lied. If he admitted that he could remember, how was he supposed to explain the fact that he'd come home with a stranger? "Nothing... nothing concrete. I'm relying on Caleb to remind me of things." 

It was the first time he'd spoken that man's name aloud. It felt awkward to say, and he was immediately scared that Tibur would notice.

"About him" said Tibur. 

Tristan held his breath. 

"How is it staying with someone you don't remember..? I mean, he'd not trying to rush you, is he..? It's bound to come as a shock. Not recognizing the man sleeping next to you." 

Tristan sighed in relief. "He's staying in his office" he explained, "If anything, he's just been taking care of me like it's his job. He doesn't make me uncomfortable... even if he is a stranger."

Tristan noticed the truth in his words. Caleb hadn't tried anything, hadn't demanded anything... he was sure there were worse kidnappers in the world.

"At least he must have told you something of your relationship before" said Tibur, "It's not like he walked in off the street and told you 'Hey! I'm your partner now!' with no word of your past. I'm guessing there are photographs and paperwork, things to help you recall your history together?" 

Photographs, no. But the paperwork was worth investigating. Tristan was sure the doctor had mentioned something about their joint visa; but it was Jed's that he should have been listed on. 

"Tristan..?" asked Tibur, worried that he'd broken him, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have tried to make you think about it. Caleb said not to push things..."

Tristan glanced at him. "What else did he say?" 

"Just to be careful when we saw you. That there was no rush for you to remember. I think he was worried that it would be too much for you to handle if we started asking too many questions." 

It would be too much for Caleb to handle if they asked too many questions. 

"I see" said Tristan, "I'm still getting to know him, I guess... and I've been having a hard time trying to understand why he's being so nice to me." 

Tibur smiled. 

"What?" said Tristan, "Do you know? Why he's been taking such good care of me?"

Tibur laughed. "Isn't it obvious? He loves you! He's your boyfriend, right?"

It wasn't that easy. 

"It's hard for me to see that I suppose..." Tristan confessed, "It almost feels like he wants something else from me. But I don't know what it is." 

Tibur looked around the room, paranoid about Millie's theory that the place was bugged and under surveillance. 

"It's not... like an insurance thing, is it?" whispered Tibur; "I don't know enough about your financial situation. Are you sure that he's the rich one out of the two of you..?"

Despite the pain in his body and the uncertainty of his mind, Tristan couldn't help but laugh. Whatever Caleb hoped to gain from this situation, unless he'd taken out a life insurance policy on him, he wasn't likely to see much of a financial return on his investment. 

"I work in a supermarket..." Tristan whispered back, "I don't think I have a secret trust fund he's trying to get his hands on."

Tibur scoffed and shrugged his shoulders. 

"Then it's nothing!" he declared, "Your boyfriend is just taking care of you like he should. Or... and forgive me for asking more questions. Is he your husband? Legally, I mean? I wasn't sure if it was just a nickname you used." 

Tristan wasn't sure either. Fortunately, Caleb arrived home just in time for them to ask.

"Welcome back" said Tibur, "I brought the books over as planned. Perhaps you can satisfy my curiosity about something..?"

Caleb put his shopping bags on the kitchen counter and gingerly approached the two young men on the couch. 

"What would that be..?" he ventured cautiously. 

"You and Tristan... married? Or boyfriends?" 

Tristan was looking at his cast and omitting himself from the conversation. 

"Married" stated Caleb, "Tristan is my husband, and I am his."

Tristan's eyes wavered in their avoidant observation of his arm. 

"Oh?" said Tibur, "Did you have a ceremony and everything?" 

Caleb was watching Tristan. 

"No ceremony. Not yet. Just the license." 

For the first time, Tristan's searching eyes met his. 

"Well I suppose it makes things easier" said Tibur, "My parents were unmarried and there were all kinds of problems for my mother when my father passed away first. I suppose things like insurance and such... that's all taken care of when you're married..?"

The second he'd spent in Tristan's vision was worth it all. 

"If I die, my husband will be the sole beneficiary of my will" said Caleb. 

"And um... if anything happened to Tristan..?" asked Tibur cautiously, worried he'd unnecessarily put ideas into his head. 

"If anything happened to Tristan..." said Caleb, "The only thing I'd stand to gain is a lifetime of pain and regret. What use would there be in profiting from something so utterly unbearable?" 

Tristan's mind was reeling. Everything he'd said was a lie. And yet, his eyes had seemed so alarmingly sincere.

"Well" said Tibur, "Let's hope it doesn't come to that then..." 

He hadn't anticipated that Caleb would take his interest in so serious a fashion. 

"Didn't the two of you meet in Cabi?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood a little.

If anything, Caleb looked even more depressed by the question. He simply nodded his head in response, his eyes once more transfixed by the sight of Tristan sitting on his couch. 

"I still remember the day..." said Caleb, "Though of course I'm alone in that."

"I'm sure it's only a matter of time" Tibur reassured him. "And it's not like there's a rush! You can just focus on healing" he said to Tristan. 

"Speaking of which, I should start making lunch" said Caleb, "so Tristan can take his medication."

 Having excused himself, Caleb headed to the kitchen and left the two friends alone. 

"He's quite intense, isn't he?" said Tibur quietly. 

Tristan nodded his head. "I suppose he is..." 

Tibur elbowed his good arm and leaned in closely. "I know you can't remember your life together" he said, "But I'm curious. Do you see now what you must have seen in him then..? I mean, can you understand why you agreed to marry him?"

Tristan looked over to the kitchen. 

"No" he said truthfully, "I can't even understand why I agreed to live with him. Or why he wanted to live with me." 

Tibur furrowed his brow. 

"If this feeling remains..." he said, "Maybe it's not down to the memory loss... maybe there is something not right between you, and you can sense it." 

Tristan could sense it alright. In fact he knew without a doubt; that everything between them was not as it seemed. The man making them lunch was not his husband. 

"If I wasn't married..." Tristan asked hypothetically, "Would there be another way for me to stay on in Modesh..?"

Tibur glanced in Caleb's direction and lowered his voice.

 "I can ask" he said. "But I don't think so. You may have to go back to your home country and apply again. If you don't feel safe..." 

Tristan cut him off. "Who says I don't feel safe? I was just curious. I didn't mean anything by it."

The thought of going home, of returning to that place and his dad not being there. It was more than he could bear to think about. 

"Why not show me the books you brought?" he said, swiftly changing the subject and plastering on a smile.

As Tibur brushed off the awkward feeling that something wasn't right, Caleb put down his knife in the kitchen.