Iron Willed

“Jag är okej” he said once again even if she told him not to talk. He was never good at following orders, after all, and he just had to reassure his wife that he was doing okay, all things considered. He’d be here for the rest of the day, for sure, since there were still some things they were going put him through in order to determine better just how fucked up he actually got after the accident.

He failed to get his kids from school because this damn things happened so it was relieving to hear they were by Aunt Isla now, hopefully not too worried that he didn’t show up to pick them up. “Tell them Pappa says hi when you call” he said with a smile, knowing for sure tha Anya would contact Isla later to update her on everything that happened to him and she’d talk to the kids then as well.

Discount Molly Ringwald doctor walked out after his wife asked her to do so and Tristan was more than happy to have some time alone with her now, even if he was connected to weird hospital machines. His face turned to her palm when she touched his face and he had that carefree smile of his plastered on his lips, almost as if he hadn’t nearly died a few hours ago. Anya had that effect on him, she was soothing and she made him look at her like he did when he was first falling in love with her. “Chill, woman. No need to beat up or kill anyone today, ‘kay?” he spoke as his hand moved up to take hers, fingers lacing together “I’m fine. A little beat up, but I’m fine. You’ll get lots of quality time with your man to help make him feel better” he added in a more playful manner, hoping to calm a little that murderous rage against the idiot who caused the accident. “I’m definitely looking forward to that”.

One of Tristan’s ever so delightful traits was his inability to follow directions. Anya sighed when he repeated himself, eyes narrowing as if to test this theory, though she merely clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Disobedience wasn’t allowed at home with the kids, and though Tristan was a grown adult Anya couldn’t help but think this recovery would be rather difficult for him. She’d have to grab a list of instructions from the nurse to keep him in line. Surely one of them would be rested, and he probably would have to take some time off of work. Luckily they had Isla, who happened to be very supportive and useful in the Tillstrom household. Anya couldn’t help but smile as her husband spoke again. Of course she’d let the kids know their pappa was alright. They were probably worried sick when he hadn’t come to pick them up. “Of course. They’re probably worried they didn’t get those special treats you pick up for them. Oh yeah, I know about those, you don’t think I can’t see when they’re hyper because of sweets? Besides, Freja spilled the beans months ago.” She chuckled a bit before continuing. “I suppose it’s good they have something to look forward to after school so I didn’t say anything.” Now that he’d been outed, she hoped he wouldn’t stop the tradition. 

It was her best attempt to lighten the mood, though her eyes grazed over the wounds he’d acquired from the accent. The bruising was quite horrific, and she hoped the kids wouldn’t have to see it. His doctor and the nurse finally left the room, giving them the privacy she wanted moments ago. Without warning, she lifted herself onto his hospital bed and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Scoot over, this thing isn’t exactly the king sized bed we’ve got at home.” Anya joked, pressing her lips against his cheek. Her husband was alive, that’s all that mattered right now. Things could’ve gone a differently, and she couldn’t bare to think of what that might be like. A life without Tristan was a life Anya was extremely uninterested in living. “I mean, is that asshole really doing anything good in this world? He nearly killed my husband.” She pointed out, running her thumb along his skin as he took her hand in his. Her shoulder slacked a bit as her head rested against the wall behind them. A little quality time with her husband actually sounded nice, bruises and all. Perhaps the rough housing might have to be taken down a notch, and she wasn’t talking about with the kids. Sometimes their sex could get a little bit...well, it wasn’t dull, not even after marriage and three kids. It’s amazing they had yet to have a fourth. “Hm quality time with Tristan Tillstrom. I don’t know, I might be a little bit too much for you now that you’re all bruised up.” Anya muttered under her breath, lips hovering dangerously close to his with a gently smile pressed against her lips. She did love this man, very much so. 

He took a turn to the left in the same street as ever, the one that was a shortcut that saved him approximately five minutes of the drive to the school. He didn’t do it just to save time, on that very street was that donut shop Tobias loved. More often than not Tristan stopped to buy those little donut holes that tasted like apple with cinnamon. He bought a small box of those for his kids but it was something he did especially for his little man. It was a winning scenario for the girls too, of course, since Freja and Hanna loved the treat as well. It was a state secret between him and the little rascals, a secret they kept from Anya because she would most likely advise her husband against buying them so often. It was almost a tradition now so it couldn’t be helped. The kids shared that secret with him just as they surely shared other with their mom that he knew nothing about. One moment he was hearing his wife’s voice on the speaker, taking that turn he always did, and the next his car was hurled away in the opposite direction.

There were roaring noises, hectic images a shot of pain and then nothing. The blackness welcomed him for quite some time. At least that was what he was told by a doctor once he opened up his eyes again. The first coherent thought he had was that it smelled like a hospital, all sterilized and clean, so he could tell where he was right away. He felt sedated and he was quick to confirm that indeed he was, as an IV was stuck into the back of his hand, its chord going all the way up to that weird metallic coat stand looking contraption with plastic bags dangling from the top and beeping machines attached to it. The second coherent thought he had was much more important than the first, so much that it actually should have been the first thing on his mind: “Call uh… call my wife”.

The doctor did as he asked and returned after a moment to confirm Anya had been notified his sorry ass was dumped on a shitty hospital bed. The doctor didn’t use those words, of course. It really was a shitty bed, though. Hopefully they would let him go home soon. The doctor went on to enlist what had happened to him. Big concussion that had him knocked out cold for several minutes. Minor bruises and cuts. Cervical and lumbar sprains. The doctor made sure to point out just how damn lucky he was, they were just second degree sprains. The worst of his injuries was his broken rib. Rib number eight on his right side to be specific, as the doctor explained. The man had no clue which rib it was, only that it was a damn rib on his right side and that it snapped thanks to the violent crash.

Tristan paid attention to the embroidered name on the doctor’s white coat. It read Dr. Ringwald. The irony gods had done something there because the dude was a petite red-headed woman with the same prissy attitude as Molly’s character in The Beakfast Club. Discount Molly Ringwald was talking when the door of his room opened. Anya was by his side in a half a second and it took him the other half to have a smile plastered on his lips. “Hey. Jag är okej, min älskling” he spoke. He was okay now because of all the painkillers they were shooting through him intravenously. He was okay also because she was here now.

“Tala inte, du kommer att skada dig själv.” Relief didn’t even have a chance to set in. Relief went out the window when the doctor started listing off all his injuries. And where the hell was the driver? Where the hell was the bastard that caused this mess in the first place? That’s when anger set in. Anya’s hands trembled against Tristan’s shoulders and she moved her hands up and down, thumbs rubbing circles into his skin. A concussion, cervical and lumbar sprains and a broken rib. The bruises and cuts would heal but the sprains and the damn broken rib would take much longer to heal. Fuck. The doctor mentioned he was lucky to have made it out alive. Apparently Tristan’s car had flipped over. Twice. The car was of course totaled, but they could take care of that later. All of that could be figured out at a later time. But these injuries were at present, the most important thing in Anya’s mind. How could she help Tristan recover? When could she take him home? “When can he come home?” 

“We’re unsure at the moment. We just got the x-ray’s back and we’d like to make sure there aren’t sighs of bone fragments inside his chest. Right now, he seems to be doing just fine but we would like to keep him just another hour or two. We’d be more than happy to release him tonight.” Okay, tonight, they could deal with that. They had children that would expect to see their father at home tonight regardless of his injuries. Anya was sure they’d each have a fit if he remained in the hospital. At least Tobias was twelve, he could take care of himself by now and the girls. Surely he’d be Isla’s little helper the entire time she looked after them. “The kids are with Isla, by the way, they’re fine.” Before Anya had walked through the hospital doors, she’d received a picture message of the kids playing outside in Isla’s backyard. It was large, large enough for a swing set and a trampoline. Their aunt adored having them over, and perhaps took care of them more than Anya did sometimes. With all the complications Isla had endured trying to have her own children, it was the least she could do. The kids would pop over from time to time when both Anya and Tristan were busy, and she was happy to take them.   

She took a deep breath in, releasing the air carefully before turning to the doctors. They’d had their time with her husband, now it was her turn. “Could you give us a minute alone please?” How polite she’d become during adulthood. Anya had her first child at a very young age towards the end of her 22nd year. How she’d manage to get through twelve years of motherhood was beyond her imagination. Twelve years later, now she was a thirty-four year old mother with three kids. If someone were to tell her back then what she knew now, she would’ve laughed. Anya had never been the type of woman to want kids until Tobias had been born. Watching her son’s eyes open for the first time was one of the happiest days of her life, and that included her wedding day. Anya sat at the edge of her husband’s bed, hands still moving gently against his skin. “Do they know who hit you? Because I can find them and rough um up a bit.” Her words might’ve sound playful to anyone else, but only Tristan would know they were true. And she wasn’t talking about beating him up, but rather instead using her abilities to fry his brain a little. 

Everything was fine, she told herself. Repeat it. Everything is fine. It will be fine if you keep saying it. If she stopped thinking it, the phrase would no longer remain true and it had to. It had to be true. Anya’s phone call with Tristan was normal. They’d had this routine down now with the kids where she’d drop them off and he’d pick them up. It was simple, nothing ever really changed unless it needed to. So when Tristan called Anya at work and asked what she’d like from the store, she wasn’t worried. This was normal. What wasn’t normal, was the abrupt end of the phone call. They’d barely been two sentences in when a loud bang was heard from the other end and the call went dead. Panic set in. Then the fear kicked in right after. The desk began to cave in on her as her mind ran rapid trying to find a source of the bang. The only thing it could’ve been was another car, and if it was another car then...Anya’s chest began to tighten and her lungs clawed against her rib cage desperate for air. She was panicking, spiraling out of control like she felt without her medication. But she’d taken it, she had it this morning before dropping the kids off...Tristan. One of her coworkers said her name once, twice, before Anya felt a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump up. 

One phrase was all she needed to say before grabbing her coat and leaving the office. That could wait, this couldn’t. He’d been on his way to pick up the kids when he’d called her, surely the accident would be somewhere near the school? The kids...Anya’s heart sank and she nearly fell to her knees from the impact. Another coworker stopped her at the stairs. Not now. She couldn’t possibly explain to them what was going on in such a short amount of time. The only thing she could do was say it was an emergency and push them out of her way. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t who she was. Anya wasn’t the type of woman to lose her cool like this, she was composed and in control. Her work required composure, but the mere idea of losing Tristan nearly had her breaking down on the long winding staircase. She had to call someone to get the kids- Isla. She was the closest and could get the kids faster than Anya could. Even though she’d figured out one piece of the puzzle, her chest still ached with possible grief. The hospital hadn’t called, the police hadn’t called, maybe she was overreacting. Maybe everything was just fine. But then...

Her phone rang. It was such a polite well mannered tune, it seemed quite off for such a life changing phone call. “Hello, Ms. Tillstrom? I’m calling to alert you that your husband was just brought into Queen Elizabeth Hospital-” That was all she’d heard before even more panic set in. The hospital. Queen Elizabeth’s was a twenty minute drive from her office. Anya practically ran to her car, trying her best not to speed down the freeway like a mad woman in search of her husband. Isla was already on her way to get the kids, who would be staying at their aunts house until Anya got this sorted. She didn’t really know what the expect when she ran through the hospital doors, and she didn’t even know where to go. “Tristan Tillstrom.” Anya practically shouted at the woman sitting behind the help desk. “Wha-” “What room is Tristan Tillstrom in?” The woman blinked at Anya several times, looking down at her hands, which were rattling on top of the counter. “Only family can see-” “I’m his wife. Anya Tillstrom. Do you need ID or can I see my fucking husband now please?” This was not off to a good start. “Look, I was on the phone with him when someone hit him, or he crashed, I don’t know, but I need to see him. Now. We’ve got...we have three kids at home that need their father, and I need to see him. I need to see him please.” Anya breathed out, feeling tears begin to fill her eyes. The woman sighed. “Room 242. Right down the hall and make a left, they’ll still fixing him u-” 

Room 242. That’s all the information she needed to get her feet moving again. Sure enough the woman’s instructions were very direct. Right down the hall to the left, Anya came across the room. Her hand trembled as she pushed against the white painted door, finding not only her husband in the room but a nurse and a woman who she could only assume was his doctor. She could feel her heart leap out of her chest to see him still breathing. His eyes were open, and he was even talking. Anya breathed out a sigh of relief, pushing past the nurse and the doctor to embrace her husband. “Oh my god, you’re okay. You’re okay, right? Is he okay?” Her question was directed towards the doctor behind them but her eyes remained on Tristan. Tears stained her cheeks, running makeup down her face, making her wish she had gotten that water proof mascara after all. The palms of her hands rested on either side of his face, her thumb running against his chin. He was pretty bruised up, but he was alive. At least he was still fucking breathing. 

Anya’s words worried him beyond belief. She had been through two pregnancies before, so he trusted her word when she said that there was something wrong about what was going on right now. “It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine. Both of you” he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before he started moving to get his wife to the hospital. Of course the man had no way of knowing if things would in fact be fine, but he refused to even think that something bad could happen to his wife or their unborn baby.

The drive to the hospital felt eternal. Tristan held on to Anya as if his own life depended on it, but he still gave her enough space for her to breathe. Those breathing techniques that she had been taught helped her a lot through moments of anxiety. “I got you. I got you, my love” the man whispered in a reassuring manner as she reached out for his hand. He held it tightly, tenderly, letting his wife know that he was here for her and would do whatever was necessary to see her through this.

Tristan was terrified but he did his best to keep all negative thoughts aside. He didn’t want to think of the possibility that he might lose Anya, or that something wrong could happen to his little Hanna. “We’re here” he said to her as the taxi parked in front of the hospital. He paid the man in a rush and got off the car. “Här! Jag behöver hjälp! Min fru ska föda!” he called out to some paramedics that were standing by a parked ambulance. Both men hurried to bring a stretcher and helped to take Anya off the taxi.

With Tobias, the pregnancy had gone rather smoothly aside from everyone desperately trying to get at Hearst’s throat, causing an all out war during her birth. But she’d had both Tristan and Isla by her side, protecting her and Tobias, keeping them safe. Freja had come earlier than anticipated, but still, the pregnancy had been just fine. Now, feeling her stomach splitting in half and her heart pounding out of her chest, she knew something was wrong with this pregnancy with Hanna. Even the soothing words that left her husband’s lips could not calm the rapid beating of her heart. Her fingertips gripped onto his button down again and again, trying to find purchase in what felt like being blinded by a storm. She repeated the same words in her head again and again; please don’t take her away from me. Please don’t take her away from me. 

The breathing techniques had certainly helped her stress level, but not the pain. As another round of contractions hit, so did the pain in her side, causing her to cry out in pain. “Kan den här bilen gå fortare ?” Anya breathed out roughly to the driver, her eyes like daggers in the back of his head. It wasn’t exactly a comforting feeling to know you could lose your child and the drive was taking a century long to reach its final destination. 

“Finally.” Taking her husband’s hand, she attempts to get out of the car, only to nearly fall on her side. She gripped the side of the car, relieved when a group of men come out to her with a stretcher and help her onto it. Taking Tristan’s hand in her own, she continued to breath through the pain rising in her chest, squinting at the bright lighting on the hospital ceiling as the stretcher burst through the double doors.Her eyelids begun to flutter as she fell in and out of conciousness, hand going rather limp in the palm of her husband's hand.  “Vad är problemet?” The doctor came up by Anya’s side, looking from Tristan to her on the stretcher.  “Något är fel med mitt barn . Det uh...gör ont här.”  Anya did her best to speak through whatever pain it was she was feeling, grabbing onto the doctor’s sleeve. the only thing keeping her awake now was her will to try and tell the doctor what she wanted him to do all along. And once she had said those words, it went dark. “Save...Hanna.”