Back To You

Chapter 1

Warnings - injured child, amnesia, mentions of sex, divorce, money troubles

I was rushing through the hospital. Of course, the week Julian was with Timothée, he'd fallen out of his tree house. I was full of fury.

"I can't believe you did this," I snarled when I saw my ex-husband. He looked horrible, and my anger eased a bit.

"I'm sorry, I turned my back for a second," Timothée mumbled in despair, staring at his hands.

"Have they let you in yet?" I asked.

"Not yet," he ran his hands through his hair.

"Can you hug me?" Timothée said in a tiny voice. I knew physical touch grounded him, he needed it to feel safe. I just didn't know how good of an idea it was. Our divorce had been messy.

"I don't know Tim, that seems like a bad idea," I said.

"Please," he said, and that's how I knew he was truly desperate. He usually respected my first answer. "I'm fucking terrified, my heart won't calm down."

"Okay," I said gently, and pulled him into my arms. I heard him sob as he gripped me tightly. I rubbed his back slightly. When I let go he looked wrecked.

"Mr. and Ms. Chalamet," the doctor said.

"We're actually divorced," I said.

"Well, I need to talk to you about Julian's condition. Your son is stable, and safe for the most part."

"What does 'for the most part' mean?" Timothée demanded.

"He has amnesia. We believe it will be temporary if you can comply with a couple things," the doctor informed me.

"Anything," I said immediately.

"The reason I didn't know you weren't a couple any longer is because from what Julian is saying, he seems to think you all live together."

"He's awake?" Timothée demanded.

"Yes, and like I said, he's stable," The doctor assured us.

"You two are completely separated correct? You don't coparent in the same house?"

"No, we're completely separated," I assured the Doctor.

"Well, Julian doesn't think that. Because of how fragile his condition is, I want to recommend giving him no big shocks. He needs to feel like what he believes in is reality, until his memories come back."

"What does that mean?" Timothée asked.

"I'm going to advise that you act like you are still married. I would say you both need to be around him. Mr. Chalamet, I know you're a busy man, but this is incredibly important."

"Of course, I can take emergency leave for however long this takes. My movie isn't as important as my son."

"So, you think we should pretend we're still married? And happily married?" I asked.

"Yes, he will feel more secure. That security will coax the memories back out. If he is Retraumatized, his brain could react poorly."

"This is so crazy," Timothée said, running a hand down his face.

"So where should we stay?"

"Mine is bigger," Timothée offered, and I rolled my eyes. He always had to rub those things in my face.

"Bigger, and more extravagant isn't the point right now. Where would be the most familiar for him?"

"I got the house in the divorce, he would know it best," I said.

"I would suggest that," the doctor nodded.

"Timothée, you still have the spare key right?" I asked.

"Yes," he sighed. "You should move your stuff in before he is released. We don't want it to seem like you aren't around a lot." I realized we were going to have to share the same bed, have the same weekly rituals, this would be difficult.

"You can come see him now."

We rushed into the room. My baby was hooked up to tubes, and a heart monitor, he looked weak.

"Mommy, daddy," Julian rasped.

"Buddy, I am so, so, so sorry," Timothée said, taking his sons hand. I had to admit, as mad as I'd been, Timothée was a good dad. He always had been.

"It's okay, I mean, I wouldn't say no to a get better soon gift."

Timothée laughed.

"Anything you want," he said. I knew he meant it. Timothée could drop what I used to pay for a year on our house, on a ring he'd wear once.

After we'd finished visiting, Timothée went out to transfer some things to our old place.

Finally, after another 24 hours, we brought our baby home. He went to bed almost immediately, being tired from the hospital visit.

I awkwardly walked to my room. Timothée was already in the shower. I felt very odd, my heart was racing. I sat in my pajamas that I didn't wear because I usually slept in a shirt and panties. I remember Timothée usually slept naked, and I wondered if he'd be different now.

Timothée came out in a towel. I sucked in a breath. I forgot how intensely attracted I was to his body. He was so slim, all angles, and it nearly made me salivate. A small part of me wanted to rip the towel away. As much as I hated saying it. I hadn't found a cock like his since the divorce.

He was looking at me intensely. Back in the day, one bat of my eyelashes and he'd be taking me against the wall. Our sex life had never been the issue in our marriage, it had been money.

Timothée had refused to give up his dream of becoming an actor, and get a job. I had worked gruelingly long hours to make ends meet. I'd had to often borrow money from my parents, which I absolutely hated. I liked being self sufficient, being dependent on my parents had severely hurt my self-esteem.

Of course, within a year of our divorce, he'd hit it big. Now he had millions. It made me very angry sometimes. Sometimes, I wondered what would've happened if I'd toughed it out.

"Mind if I sleep shirtless?" He asked, grabbing his clothes.

"Doesn't bother me," I lied, trying not to show how much it would distract me, and the tension it would cause. This was going to be difficult.