Come Alive

’I do kind of super dig pocket protectors.' At her teasing tone, Arden bit his tongue, but found the breath stolen from him as she tugged his tie again. “You won't be disappointed for a lack of them, then,” he said, with a wink.

"I do! It’s easy enough. We can help each other. I confess I’d hate to screw up your clothes, though," he answered, relaxing against the wall as the elevator drifted downward. "I haven’t seen that one. I watched La Patrona, though. It was about a female gold miner and she was gorgeous and smart and cool.”

'You won't be disappointed for a lack of them, then.' She swallowed, nails grazing her sweater anxiously. Arden's playful tone and handsome face made her mouth run dry. "And the good news continues," she countered, clearing her throat lightly.

"Oh, no, not my clothes; you should definitely bring your own. As nice as you are, I wouldn't even allow Donatella Versace near my clothing with scissors," she laughed, attempting to recover herself. She latched on to the topic of telenovelas, something she knew she could speak about endlessly. "La Patrona! My brother has the biggest crush on Gabriela Suárez. She's very cool," she agreed, choosing to keep her chatter to herself.

The woman looked worried that he had no one to call for moral support. Tennessee had half a mind to tell her that it had always been like this, he was used to it, and he was totally okay with it. He didn’t need anyone to feel bad for him; he didn’t need pity, however well-intentioned it may have been. The kind-hearted brunette’s words were born out of sympathy, not pity, yet there was no way for the boy to realize it.

Kept overnight. Waiting was the worst part, he mused, staring down at his hands as she spoke. “Is there like a place f’r that here? Stayin’ overnight, I mean.” Despite the unpleasant taste in his mouth, Tennessee wanted to stick around. Would he have to sleep in one of the waiting rooms, then? If not, he would come back in the morning. He needed to go over to his grandparents’ place and check on Abuelita. Either way, this was not how he’d imagined this Christmas to go. 

Although she ached for Tennessee’s situation, she knew it would do him very little good. She wanted nothing more than to console and comfort him through this waiting period, though action often spoke louder than words. All the reassurances in the world could not ease a trouble mind.

Marisol turned to him once more, regarding him with a soft gaze. “You’re welcome to stay here in the waiting room,” she poke, gesturing around the expansive room. “Or,” she began, tone slow and earnest, “I could ask the doctor involved with your grandfather’s examination if he’s well enough to receive visitors. If he is, you’d be allowed to spend the night in his room with him. Whichever is most comfortable for you.” Marisol sincerely hoped the options might soothe him. It certainly made her feel lighter knowing he might have someone he loved with him.

‘What was it like in Japan?' They waited for the elevator, and Arden buzzed with enthusiasm. “I didn't get to see much of the land; like most of my dives, I tend to stick to the ocean and then head home. I did eat there, though, and stay in a hotel there. I had to camp in Egypt; Japan was more forgiving. The prefect was beautiful, and the people were kind.” He hummed. “They do have their share of bizarre trinkets in the stores. I like them. Have you ever been anywhere outside the country?”

He laughed at her compliment. “Thank you. You think so? Five times a week, at least. You may be seeing quite a little bit of them. Scientists unfortunately have the lousiest dress code, unless you super dig pocket protectors.”

‘Captain Arden Sparrow.' He shook his head and grinned as the elevator slid open and he stepped inside. It was not the first time he'd been nicknamed a pirate. “Hey! I upcycle, too; old furniture and stuff, though, not so much my clothes. An old bookshelf started to fall apart a bit, so I tampered with it and now I use it to hold my cleaning supplies.” The door shut, and he laughed again as he pressed the floor button. “Telenovelas? Do you have a favorite? I watched a couple in my free time when I was taking Spanish.”

She listened attentively as Arden recounted his time in Japan, eyes wide with interest. “What were the hotels like? I hear they’re incredibly ornate and high tech. Much different than a tent in Egypt, I’d imagine,” she laughed softly. “But no less fun, I’d gather, either. More than a pirate, I’d say you’re a regular Indiana Jones.” At the question of her own travels, her fingers twitched atop her sweater. “I was born in Mexico City. We moved to Virginia when I was thirteen; we visit once or twice a year to see family, but that’s the extent of it.”

She grinned, offering her own wink. “I do kind of super dig pocket protectors,” she teased, reaching a playful hand out once more to tug briefly at the bottom of his tie. Her hand retuned to her chest, arms folded. The elevator doors slid open beside them just in time to ease her impatient mind; stepping inside with a relieved inner sigh.

She nodded at the mention of family.  It was a huge help having Henry there and able to give her medical insight into things.  Of course there were just some medical things she didn’t want to share with her husband.  It would make things awkward, but that was why she had an OBGYN too.  Henry couldn’t possibly know everything that she would need throughout the course of her pregnancy.  He could learn it, of course, but she also knew that wasn’t his job.  “It’s definitely a huge help,” she replied with a slight nod.

“Oh I haven’t been doing much,” she replied with a slight chuckle.  “Just getting ready for the twins.”  Brenna was doing a lot of things around the house to make sure that everything was ready for when the twins came and life became that much more hectic for them.  Overall, it was fairly boring and she didn’t think it would be worth telling Marisol much about those things.  “My family is decent sized.  I have two siblings and my brother has three sons,” she explained.  Everyone came over because everyone still lived in Alexandria.  Staying close to home did have its advantages.  After all, she and Henry had met here when they were kids.  Why would they want to leave a place that had so many memories?  She couldn’t even think of a reason why she would want to do something like that.

Marisol admired the other woman; preparing for twins had to be a great strain and incredibly time consuming. "I can't imagine that's been too easy," she replied, glancing to her new friend. "I had to constantly be on the move while I was on maternity leave. Cleaning the apartment, visiting family, crafts; sitting still was not an option," a light laugh left her, lifting her saddened spirits somewhat. She listened carefully as Brenna spoke of her family, glad to hear about her support system. "That's fun! Does your other sibling have any children? Or, do you have any cousins?"

Thankfully, it seemed, through the holiday rush, that the register lines weren't too terribly long. Marisol directed her cart into a lane with three people ahead of her, waving for Brenna to follow suit. "Looks like we picked the luckiest day to go shopping," she observed with a grin. Glancing back, she spotted Brenna's little girl with her teddy bear; it warmed her heart to know what a wonderful mother the redhead was.

He didn’t like hospitals. It was where grim words and desperation prevailed; where he ended up with bruises and homophobic slurs scratched into his brain; where he had watched, arms falling helplessly to his sides, as the doctor pronounced his mom dead. Tenn sniffled again, absentmindedly picking at the empty water cup.

"M’fine," was the boy’s stiff, immediate response, and a pathetically obvious lie as well. What else could he say, though? He wasn’t about to spill his entire fucking sob story to some stranger, regardless of how (seemingly) nice they were. Now that he’d calmed down somewhat, his defense mechanism of denial was building itself up again. "When’s he comin’ out?"

She held no qualms in waiting with him. Her son, Angel, was with his father for the holiday season; spending a late night at work would be of little to no consequence. Selfishly, however, she supposed it meant less of a lonely night for her, as well.

'M’fine. When’s he comin’ out?' Marisol craned her neck to the nurses' station and the hallways beyond. "Patient's who acquire concussions are typically kept overnight for observation," she explained. "In elderly patient's it can be incredibly helpful and essential to hold them over for monitoring. If everything checks out by morning, and it will, he'll be able to sign out then." Shifting back to face her new acquaintance, she tilted her head to the side. "Would you like to wait here over night until then? Or, maybe come back in the morning?"

He watched her carefully as her fingers and arms shifted and raced about her body like spiders on a fresh-spun web. Marisol’s mood was slowly dissolving, and he couldn’t quite discern why. It was up to him to fix it, though; Arden beamed and swept the door open. “No? This should be extra fun for you, then, I’m sure.” As he led her back down the hall, he said with a shrug, “I have to say, I love nigirizushi. I tried it for the first time when I went to Japan and I haven’t had better in America. I can’t eat octopus, though, salmon or eel are tops. What about you?” 

The elevator was open as they reached it, but shut before they got close enough to enter it. Arden snorted and jammed the “DOWN” button with some urgency. He glanced over at Marisol and eyed her playfully. “You look beautiful, by the way,” he said. “I don’t think I said that so much, yet.”

Her eyes went wide once more, though she couldn’t honestly count herself too far surprised. Arden’s travels were vast and countless; hearing about his adventures, however, was something she could never tire of. “Nigirizushi is delicious,” she agreed, her small smile growing. So, she thought, maybe he isn’t too upset after all. “What was it like in Japan? I mean,” she corrected, her fingers ticking against her sweater, “how was it being there?”

The approach of the elevator took her by surprise, having been stuck within her thoughts. She squared her shoulders back as Arden pressed the call button; coaxing herself back to focus. 'You look beautiful, by the way. I don’t think I said that so much, yet.' Redness crawled up her neck to paint her cheeks. She leaned her hip against the metal frame of the elevator, arms loosening themselves at her chest. He wasn’t mad. She could relax. “Thank you,” she spoke, quietly. “You look handsome yourself. Ties really do it for you, you know.”

It seemed that Marisol’s family could understand her medical jargon in a way that Brenna couldn’t for Henry.  Sometimes she felt bad for not understanding what he had been talking about, but there was only so much she could do.  “Having Henry around definitely has helped,” Brenna replied.  He made it easier to figure some of the minor things out.  “I think he read everything he could get his hands on about pregnancy when he shouldn’t have.  It just makes him worry.”  She could remember how he worried about even the smallest things when she was pregnant with Grace.  He’d calmed down some, but carrying twins gave him a whole new set of things to worry about.

Though miserable as a pregnancy could be, Marisol counted Brenna undoubtedly lucky for the involvement of her husband. Not every woman was fortunate enough to have a loving partner, nor medical access; it warmed her heart to hear it from her new friend. She laughed lightly. "A worried husband is better than nothing, I'd say. It's so nice to hear that he's that committed to helping you and learning about the process! Having your own personal medical professional is incredibly beneficial. I know having my mother around when I was with Angel was such a help," she recalled.

"What else have you been doing with your time off?" she asked, head tilted to the side. Her own maternity leave had been full of upcycling in mass amounts and long television marathons. Cheerful, she thought sadly, attempting not to crack her happy facade. Not this Christmas. "Do you have a big family yourself or do you usually keep the gatherings small? I know not every family has the chance to be together all at once."

Memories of whales, large as semi-trucks and moving vans coasting by him in the semidarkness, his fingers brushing their smooth bodies as they circled and disappeared again bobbed briefly to the surface and then sank back down to the depths. He loved the ocean, and all that it had to offer and had offered him thus far. 

"I told you! I told you, you’re not. Let’s go. Japanese, it is.” Arden started to pull away, but Marisol’s fingers around his tie stopped him inexplicably. He hung back and stared at her, biting his bottom lip and swallowing hard. So she was having a good time. 

'I told you! I told you, you’re not. Let’s go. Japanese, it is.' A small frown settled at the edges of her lips. Way to go, she chided herself inwardly, you upset him. Stop being so obnoxious. Don't be so insecure. You look desperate. Marisol released his tie from her fingers with a nod and ducked under his arm as she left the room. Her arms folded tightly across her chest in their previous position, shoulders straight and eyes low. Her fingers twitched against her sweater.

She cleared her throat, twitching the corners of her mouth back up into a smile. Don't ruin it, she berated again. It was going so well. "Oh, yeah, they're very big in my family. Most Mexican families; it's a tradition. Homemade tamales are better than any store bought, American made tamales. We make them by the box-full every December," she recounted. "We donate most of them to local shelters and churches and keep the rest for ourselves."

The labs were a mountain of the evidence of his life’s work, but not any evidence of what he was elsewise. Arden nodded her toward the door. “The oceans are phenomenal from every angle, but I’m glad I rarely dive alone. What would such beauty be when there’s no one to share it with?” He felt his grin getting more and more sheepish by the moment, but he didn’t care.

'I don't want to pull you away from anything important, though. I don't want you in any trouble.' Arden laughed. “Forget him, honestly. I’m off right now. I didn’t have much to do today, anyway. Come on, I know one of the best Japanese restaurants in D.C.; do you like seafood?”

Her heel clad feet uprooted themselves upon Arden's nod in the door's direction. She took several steps forward, listening intently all the while. "I can't imagine they'd let you dive alone," she shook her head, arms tight across her chest. "It sounds dangerous enough as it is. Beautiful," she assured, offering a second smile, "but definitely high risk." The sheepishness of her date's smile caused her own to grow; God, he was handsome. Her fingers twitched on her arms.

Marisol cast a glance in Nate's direction, a slight feeling of guilt in her stomach. She hadn't meant to disturb his work or tear his partner from him during a work day. Arden's reassurance made her feel only slightly less terrible. "As long as I'm not pulling you away from anything important." With great effort, she shoved the remorse aside and focused on the question at hand. "Oh, I love seafood," she answered, tone lighter. "I haven't had Japanese in years. Sushi would definitely be a nice reprieve from all of the holiday tamales."

The cold water traveling down his throat was like a wake-up call. Focus, he silently chastised himself, and tightened his grip on the couch fabric under his hands. He sniffled again. “No sé,” he said after a beat, a bit confused as to why she was speaking Spanish to him. “I ain’t sure if she’s okay ‘nough to drive.” That reminded him, he had to let Abuelita know what Granddad’s condition was. He fished out his phone to call his grandparents’ house. The situation was explained, concerns expressed, and reassurances uttered, his voice still possessing a teary, anxious edge from the panic attack. Tenn took another gulp of water once the phone call was finished. Now he just had to wait.

"I hate this place," he mumbled darkly, shooting watery glares at nothing in particular.

She shifted a fraction as Tennessee foraged for his cell phone, offering a slight bit more distance. Crowding a post-panicked person was just as potentially triggering as smothering them. She listened carefully whilst he explained the situation; the anxiety in his tone further cracking her heart. With water in hand, at least, she was sure calm would soon become controlled.

As his call ended and he regarded her once more, Marisol nodded her agreement. "I don't know too many people who actually like hospitals," she drawled, voice soft. "Unless you work here, of course. Our jobs are to make sure you don't have to worry any more than necessary. It can be unfortunate," she pursed her lips, aiming a gentle smile in his direction, "but, in cases like yours, the outcome will be fortunate. How are you feeling, Tennessee?"

ISFJs are traditional, loyal, quiet and kind. They are very sensitive to other people’s needs because they are very observant. They have rich inner thoughts and emotions. They value stability and cultural norms. They are very adept at giving attention to detail. They do not seek positions of authority.

STRENGTHS

Warm, friendly and affirming by nature.

Service-oriented, wanting to please others.

Good listeners.

Will put forth lots of effort to fulfill their duties and obligations.

Excellent organisational capabilities.

Good at taking care of practical matters and daily needs.

Usually good (albeit conservative) at handling money.

Take their commitments seriously, and seek lifelong relationships.

WEAKNESSES

Don’t pay enough attention to their own needs.

May have difficulty branching out into new territory.

Extreme dislike of conflict and criticism.

Unlikely to express their needs, which may cause pent-up frustrations to build inside.

Have difficulty leaving a bad relationship.

Have difficulty moving on after the end of a relationship.

Arden buzzed and beamed. “You and me both!” he said, enthusiastically. “Three brothers, one sister, though. Nora, she’s the oldest; a dancer. If your sister’s an artist, they might get along. Riordan is the youngest, and he’s a bit like you, he likes to help people.” He swallowed back a, He didn’t get to go to school, though, and went on, “My dad’s a fisherman— surprise, surprise, everyone in Destin is— and ma’s a city councilwoman.” He loved his family, and took great pride in them. Something told him Marisol was more hesitant to share in her private life, though. He toned it back. “What about your other sister, and brothers? Are they so free spirited, too, or are they more like you?”

Marisol’s interest in his work only set Arden even higher. “A good number,” he said, eagerly. “Parts of the whale, up there. We don’t carry live things on the stairs; the coral came in on the elevator. Some stay here, some don’t. It depends on what we’re allowed to keep, what the species is, if it’s an animal or a plant or a mineral; fossils are very exciting, we don’t get to keep many of them.”

'I still can't believe you get to travel all over the world like this, it's spectacular.' Arden bit his lower lip and blushed. “I mostly only see the oceans on the country edges,” he said, trying and failing to sound humble. “I rarely head in to look around.”  At her coral question, he laughed. “Honestly, nothing. It resembles something quite similar to a species found off the coast a year ago. If we can chip a bit off and compare the two, it’s basically a house plant.”

'What about your other sister, and brothers? Are they so free spirited, too, or are they more like you?' Her fingers twitched whilst she shifted weight to her other foot. "Alejandra's a kindergarten teacher and Victoria works in the mayor's office. David's a musician, and, uh, Adrian does what he wants, same as Carmen." Her family was very large, very colorful, and incredibly busy; if not unique. "My mother's a doctor in D.C. and my father's a lawyer out there, too."

Excited eyes drew back up to the ceiling, studying the half-constructed whale as her date spoke. She couldn't imagine such a career of adventure; what he was able to see, to do, to be part of. Had they the time, she would've loved to hear every single one of his fascinating stories. "The oceans are worlds within themselves, you know. I think seeing just the edges is phenomenal in itself," she beamed.

The situation was too familiar, striking close to home—because, for a mere nineteen-year-old, he knew the awful feeling of losing someone too well. He fucking hated it. He hated that it kept happening, again and again, first his father then Momma and now Granddad. Maybe this was some sort of punishment, like, the universe’s way of telling him that he was a bad person, that everything was his fault, because he was a stupid weak little good-for-nothing piece of trash with no guts—no, those were from Wyatt, but he’d heard the words so many times that he believed them to a degree. 

Fortunately, Tennessee was able to refrain himself from flinching like a cat when her hand moved to his neck. ”Okay,” he confirmed once more, looking up at the brunette, barely managing to release a shaky breath. Mortified, he angrily rubbed at his eyes as belated embarrassment flooded him. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to break down like this. In public. He loathed himself so much at that moment, hatred and anguish burning in his veins like cold fire. He swallowed the urge to vomit.

Across the room and to the left of the nurses' station sat a water cooler, thankfully desolate. Marisol quickly filled a styrofoam cup; weaving her way around several people on her journey back to the couch. "Here you go," she breathed gently, glancing him over. She settled once more beside Tennessee and held the cup out to him, hoping his restless hands would calm themselves with something to hold in them.

It broke her heart to see him so distressed. He reminded her greatly of her youngest brother, Adrian, and in that correlation she felt a sense of obligation to him. "If there's anything else that I can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask." She kept her hands to herself in her lap, unsure of whether her touch had been a sense of comfort or discontent for him. "I'll wait here with you. Será tu abuela a venir a reunirse con usted?"

Arden stifled a yawn; he’d been up since five and something, and his back and head were giving out. “Ha. Often enough. We can’t always use the elevator, but we try to; most things are very fragile, very old. Crashing them up and down steps isn’t the safest thing for them.” It wasn’t the first time he’d been compared to a pirate. Arden loved history; loved archaeology. The ocean was home. Time was endless.

‘It’s beautiful in here.' Damn. Arden settled his gaze on Marisol with fresh perspective. Did she really like it? Did she? Could she? “I love it, too,” he replied, over-eagerly, heading for the coffeemaker. “This is where I do most of my day work. If we find artifacts or living specimens, we bring them here for study; mostly carbon dating, which is what Nate's doing now.” 

Nate listlessly pointed at the computer behind him, which was rapidly running thousands of numbers in a box on the desktop while he stared intently at a flat piece of rock encrusted with barnacles. Arden shook his head. 

"We found a ton of stuff in Peru. I’m interested in a coral species we discovered, although it wasn’t part of our objective. See there?" He pointed to a small tank on a far counter, where a vibrant purple hunk of coral was swaying gently in place. "We had to ask permission from the Peruvian ambassador to take it back with us. I’m excited."

Curiosity peaked as she listened to him speak. "I'd imagine it's also not the safest thing for you, either. Do you have anything in here that you've carried up the stairs?" she asked, eyes trailing their way around the room. It was stunning, the findings; even the smallest or plainest of objects were fascinating. "Living specimens? Do you keep them here, too, or is there a special place for them?"

Marisol tore her gaze from the half assembled whale skeleton hung from the ceiling to Nate at his station; then the computers, finally resting at the coral inside of a small tank across the room. "Oh, wow," she breathed. "Peru. I still can't believe you get to travel all over the world like this, it's spectacular." And absolutely gorgeous, she thought, crossing carefully to near the tank. She bent to have a closer look, watching the purple coral sway. "Permission from the ambassador, that's crazy! What are you planning to study with it?"

“About seven months,” Brenna replied when Marisol asked how far along she was.  It was not long after the accident that Brenna got pregnant and now here she was.  In truth, she was surprised Henry hadn’t plastered the sex of the baby or the fact that it was twins all over the hospital.  He’d been through the roof when they had those ultrasounds, even if the twins were a big surprise.  “It’s twins actually,” Brenna explained with a soft smile.  “And they’re both boys.”  She chuckled then.  “I’m surprised Henry didn’t scream it from the hospital roof after we found out.”

Whenever Brenna thought about her boys or Grace she couldn’t help but smile.  Being a mother was one of the most important things in the world for her.  She loved her children and fiercely protected them.  The fact that she shared them with the love of her life just made things that much easier for her.  “I think that’s something the families of all medical professionals have in common,” Brenna commented about Marisol’s story.  Most people not involved in it couldn’t handle all the terms.  It was frustrating, even if having a doctor in the family did come in handy.

It had been true, to an extent, with her siblings at least. "Well, my mother's a doctor in D.C., she works at the Providence Hospital. She understands my medical jargon and terms, but my father and siblings tend to tune it out and give us their disapproving looks. Having medical professionals in the family can definitely come in handy, though; I'm sure having Henry around has made things a little bit easier on you." It was a story she knew well, her siblings often came to she and her mother for their health advice and council.

"Oh, good! I'm sure that has to make things a little less stressful." Marisol had her own lucky stars to thank for the good terms she and William were on; his parents were incredibly helpful with Angel as well. Her smile grew wider as Brenna spoke of she and Grace's baking adventures. "I'm sure she's a perfect little helper," she laughed, adjusting her weight at the cart. "Having so much time off for maternity leave can be hard. With her around I'm sure it's been much more enjoyable for you. She might not remember everything, but bonding time is incredibly important."