Tia

Banks has been brief with his phone calls, but he has thanked me for diligently reporting my daily hCG levels. The past week he’s worked non-stop, and I’m worried. He’s going to burn out or get sick.

“You need to come home,” I tell him. “Sleep on something more than a cot.”

“I know, tomorrow, I promise. There’s just some more tests I have to run. I’m getting closer, Tia.”

Silence. He told me the same thing yesterday.

“I did some reading on the file you sent me,” I tell him, hoping he’ll talk to me for more than just a couple of seconds like most of our conversations lately. I don’t think he’s trying to push me away. It’s more that he’s so damn focused that he can’t concentrate on anything but the research in front of him. “I think it matches what we know about patient C65.”

“You mean what we know about you.” His voice is controlled, but I hear the small sigh he gives.

“Yeah.” I swallow. “But I think you need to run my blood again to be sure. I think the treatments might be mutating my cells.”

“How so?” Banks asks. There’s a sharp scraping noise, like a chair being pushed back, and when he says my name, I can tell he’s pacing. “Tia?”

“I’ll send you what I have. I made a few notes. And then... please, come home.”

“Tomorrow. I feel like I’m finally getting close.” I hear the pride in his voice, and I don’t want to pull him away from his work. Especially, considering if, or rather when, he has his breakthrough, it will change the course of history.

And I know he’ll crack the code. It’s just a matter of time.

“Banks?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Tia.”

We hang up and I feel a fluttering of hope in my belly. Banks loves me. Stoic, reserved, impenetrable Banks.

But when tomorrow comes, and another day passes with still no sign of my husband, I finally take it into my own hands to bring him home.

“I need you to drive me to the research facility,” I tell Fallon when he walks in the front door.

“Banks?” he asks.

“He needs to come home. He’s going to end up getting sick, or worse. I’m not even sure if he’s had anything to eat other than the meals we’ve sent.”

“Okay, come on.” Fallon hands me my jacket, then places a hand on my lower back as we walk towards his truck.

The security at the facility isn’t quick to let us through, but thankfully Salinger is there, and ushers us into the sterile building, a frown tugging at his lips.

“He’s not going to leave,” Sal says. “I’ve tried talking to him, but it’s like he’s in his own world. I’m worried.”

“So am I.” Even more so when I finally see Banks.

His usually clean-shaven jaw is coated in a week's worth of scruff. While it actually looks good on him, giving him a more rugged appearance, his eyes are bloodshot and there are dark circles under them.

“What are you doing here?” He looks between the three of us.

“We’ve come to take you home.” I place a hand on his arm.

He gives a hard shake of his head. “Can’t. Not now. Almost on the verge of something. Something big. I promise I’ll come home tomorrow.”

“No.” I reach up and place my hands on his face and force him to look at me.

Even though his gaze meets mine, it takes a while before his eyes focus and I know he actually sees me.

“Hi.” I smile up at him. “I’ve missed you.”

He exhales an uneven breath and rare emotion swims in his dark eyes. “I need to do this, Tia.”

“I know.” I get it. Understand that he’s working for me. “But you can work at home too. And maybe everything will be clearer after a good night sleep, a home cooked meal...” I lean up and whisper in his ear. “And a good hard fuck.”

Fallon coughs behind me, obviously hearing what I said, but I don’t care. It’s exactly what Banks needs. He might not want to admit it, but he needs me. And I see the desire push away the cloudiness that had been there moments before.

“Come home, Banks. Let me take care of you. Then if you want to come back, I won’t stop you.”

He finally nods, and both Salinger and Fallon sigh, because I’d already told them that one way or another Banks was coming home tonight, even if it meant physically restraining him. But I know Banks, and he’s done many things for me. Things he wouldn’t do for most people, but in some small way, I think he holds me in a different light and is finally beginning to let me in.

“I just need to gather some things.” Banks pulls away and starts stuffing papers into his bag.

My gaze is pulled to a DNA sequence displayed on one of the monitors, and I frown as I move towards it.

“This...” I say, feeling Banks stand behind me. “What does it mean?”

Banks threads his fingers through mine. “That I’m almost there.”

“You’re going to find a cure,” my words are filled with hope, but with truth, because I know in my heart that he will.

I just hope to God that I’m still here when he finally does.