Work Text:
“Hi.”
Tristan whips around from where he stands in front of his desk. He hasn’t heard that voice in over two weeks and the last time he did…
The last time he heard her she was crying.
Tristan flinched at the thought, but still faced her fully. She looked a little rough around the edges, weary but vibrant. She had her army bag slung over one shoulder, the camo matching her camo jacket. Her jeans were dusty, and her boots were muddy. She must have gone out to the mountains, he thinks. The mountains are a safe place for her, where she can feel most in tune with her wolf.
He realised that he still hadn’t said anything and that we was staring. He cleared his throat quickly, “Hey.” So smooth, he cringed in his head.
“I’m back now. I thought you would want to know,” Leah said, her tone was light and didn’t betray any feelings she may have had. He couldn’t read her, she was so absolutely neutral in that way he hated.
Leah began to turn and leave when Tristan called out to her. “I’m sorry, Leah. What I said that night, it was wrong, and I should have never said it. It was unfair of me.” Tristan looked at her, before turning his eyes to the side. “I have made many mistakes but the worst one was making you cry. I am so, so sorry.” His fists clenched and unclenched as he spoke, his feelings of powerlessness in the situation apparent.
“Yeah, it was a dick move of you to throw Sam at me. I also didn’t appreciate you attacking me for my choices. I said, multiple times, that I would marry you, Tristan! I would marry you when I was ready, and for fucks sake, I wasn’t! But just because we weren’t married didn’t mean I was any less of a mother to Charlotte or partner to you.” Leah wanted to hurt him, the way he hurt her but that wouldn’t solve anything. She wanted to argue about this in an adult way. She wanted to fix things but Tristan needed to come to her, and ask for forgiveness.
“I know, I’m fucked up big time, I just…,” Tristan roughly dragged his hand over his face before rubbing at his stubble. He didn’t remember if he shaved this morning, or even this week. “I’m sorry and I will beg for your forgiveness for the rest of our lives.” He leaned back against his desk, and looked at her with tired eyes.
“Leah, please don’t leave me. Or Charlotte. Please don’t leave us,” Tristan’s eyes pleaded.
She walked to him, leaving her bag by the door. She approached him and begun to notice things she couldn’t see from the other side of the room. He didn’t just have stubble, he was well on his way to scruff. Leah wondered how many days he had forgotten to shave. His eyes were tired, and there were small wrinkles that weren’t there two weeks ago. His hands were ink-stained and Leah spied a few broken pens in the waste basket next to his desk, reminding her of the rare habit he adopted only when he was truly angry. He suffered, almost as much as she did, in the two weeks she had left. It probably reminded him of the other time she left him.
“I’m not going to leave you. But you need to start earning my forgiveness.”
“Anything. I’ll do anything. Just please, please stay.”
“Okay.” She retreated from her position in front of him, picking her rucksack on the way to the door.
“Wait! Leah!”
She turned around. “I love you.” Leah smiled, said nothing, and continued out the door.