Chapter 94: Chapter Ninety Four

Tristan's voice cracked as it tore through the house. "Mom! Dad! Miesa! Vincent!" He took the stairs two at a time, arms already open before he reached the bottom, pulling every one of them into him like he could weld them together by sheer will. "You're all safe!"

He'd been alone with the staff for hours, and somewhere around hour three his imagination had gotten away from him, it had been enough to imagine the worst — his mother, his sister, his father, gone, and him too late to have done anything but grieve.

He'd used his gift once before to save them. This time all he'd had was a phone and his own terror, and it hadn't felt like enough.

Ellie watched him cling to them and felt something in her chest crack open. He was eleven. He shouldn't have spent an afternoon rehearsing his own worst day.

She made a note, quiet and firm, to never again let a hospital visit go this long without a call home — gift or no gift, no child should have to sit with that kind of dread alone.

"Thank you for calling when you did, son." Cesar reached over and ruffled his hair, the gesture easy, familiar, meant to say more than the words did.

"I called too late." Tristan's frown didn't lift as they moved toward the living room, the guilt still sitting heavy in his chest even with his family standing in front of him, breathing, whole.

"Better late than never." Cesar grinned at him, and there was nothing performed about it — Cesar had learned a long time ago that grief that didn't happen wasn't worth dwelling on.

"Are you okay, Dad? You were hurt."

"Just a little head injury. I'll be fine." He said it lightly, the way he said most things that scared other people more than they scared him.

Ellie said nothing, but her eyes lingered on the bandage at his temple longer than she meant them to. Fine. He always said fine. One of these days fine was going to be a lie, and she wasn't sure she'd survive the day it was.

"Sir, phone for you." Maia appeared with the cordless receiver held out in both hands, the way she always did, like the object itself deserved some ceremony. "It's the president."

"Thank you." He took it, pressed it to his ear, and let the exhaustion drop out of his voice before he spoke. "Hey, Olly."

While he talked, Ellie sank onto the couch and let her shoulders drop for the first time all day. Cancer free. She'd heard the doctor say it hours ago and it still hadn't fully landed — like a word too big to fit through the door of her understanding all at once.

She watched Miesa chase Vincent around the coffee table, laughing, oblivious to how close the ground beneath all of them had come to giving way, and thought: let her stay oblivious. Let her have this.

"Cesar? Oh, Cesar — thank God." Oliver's breath came out in a rush at the sound of that familiar, maddening cheer, like he hadn't quite believed it until he heard it.

"What doesn't kill me makes me stronger." Cesar said into the phone easily, already half-smiling, and Ellie rolled her eyes at him fondly.

Only Cesar could turn a head wound into a punchline before the swelling had even gone down.

Oliver sighed, then laughed despite himself. "Of course only you would make jest of yourself right now."

"I'm okay. Just sustained a little head injury is all. I'll be fit as a fiddle in a couple of days."

"And Ellie?" Oliver pressed. "The kids?"

"She's good. Thank God for ice cream." Cesar chuckled, low and warm. "I would love to kiss whoever thought up that heavenly goodness."

Ellie huffed a laugh despite herself. Three scoops of mint chocolate chip and a clean scan — that was the whole of today, distilled. She'd take it.

"Me too. And Miesa?"

"Cancer free, bro." He said it like it was nothing, though it was everything, and for a moment he considered how strange it was that he wasn't tired at all — not really, not with all of them alive under one roof.

Oliver whooped down the line. "We need to celebrate."

"Sure. Whenever you're in Aldovia, let me know."

"How about tomorrow?" Oliver said. "I'm taking the day off."

"Great." Cesar's grin widened. "See you then."

"I'm so glad you're okay, man." Oliver's voice dropped, quieter now, more honest. "I almost had a heart attack when I saw the news."

"Thanks." And he meant it — he was glad too, gladder than he let most people see.

They said their goodbyes and hung up.

"I'm going to have nightmares about today for a week straight." Cesar muttered, mostly to himself. "And it won't be good."

"What did you say?" Ellie asked, already knowing. She'd have nightmares too — she just wasn't going to say so tonight.

"Nothing. Bed time?"

"Yep." She popped the p, keeping her voice light for the kids' sake, and something in him settled at the ordinariness of it.

There would be time to fall apart later, quietly, after everyone else was asleep. Tonight was for pillows and ice cream and pretending the day had been ordinary.

"Lead the way, milady."

"I'm so glad you're okay, sir." Maia said when she came back into the living room, her voice thinner than usual.

"Thank you, Maia." He smiled at her, warm and unguarded. "I would've missed you a lot."

She'd been with him for years — long enough that he thought of her as something close to a mother, though he'd never once said the word out loud to her. He let her feel it in other ways instead.

Ellie watched the exchange with a small, private smile of her own — Maia had held this family together more times than anyone gave her credit for, and Cesar's way of thanking her was never in the words themselves but in everything around them.

Tears welled in her eyes. "Me too," she said, and left it at that.

Ellie led him upstairs, the kids trailing behind, and they watched her fuss over his pillows, plumping and arranging them before easing him back against them.

"Comfy?" she asked.

"Yeah." He nodded, eyelids heavy, fighting to keep them open a little longer. Then he caught sight of his son's face and the tiredness fell away. "Are you crying, Tristan?"

Ellie's stomach dropped. She'd been so focused on Cesar and Miesa she hadn't clocked how tightly wound their son still was.

"Me? No, I'm not." Tristan shook his head, swiping hastily at his eyes.

"Come here." Cesar patted the bed beside him.

Tristan crossed the room slowly and sat, the mattress dipping under him.

"Look at me." Cesar said.

He did, and the tears came again anyway.

"I'm okay. We're all fine." Cesar held his gaze. "Mommy and Miesa are fine, and the baby too."

"But you got hurt." Tristan's chin trembled. "I almost lost you guys."

"Tristan." Ellie sighed, and underneath the sigh was an ache — he was eleven, and he was carrying something that heavy, and there wasn't a single thing she could do to take it fully off his shoulders except stand here and let him see they'd all made it home.

"You saved us, okay? It was almost too late, but you saved us anyway." Cesar pulled him into an embrace, one arm firm around his shoulders. "I'm so glad you're my son, Tristan. Never forget that."

"I'm glad you're my dad too." Tristan sniffled against him.

"See now — big boys don't cry." Cesar said it with mock solemnity, already knowing how it would land.

"BS." Ellie huffed, grateful for the excuse to say something sharp instead of something that might crack her voice. "Your daddy has tears in his eyes right now, so you're free to cry all you want, Tristan."

Tristan laughed through the wet in his eyes and nodded. "I love you guys so much."

"We love you too."

"Group hug?" Miesa beamed from the edge of the bed, bouncing on her toes.

"Group hug!" Ellie laughed, and they folded into each other, all of them, arms overlapping, nobody quite letting go first.