An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Hi, I’m…I’m Andy. Well I’m not really Andy, my name’s John, but I’ve gone by Andy nearly as long as I went by John so I guess I’ve just sort of…kept doin’ that.
No matter how progressive or well-read you are, there are always going to be moments in your life where somebody pushes back against something that's so culturally ingrained you never even considered it before. And you'll say "Huh, it never occurred to me to challenge this but you're right" and that doesn't mean you were "morally toxic" before, it means you're a non-omniscient human capable of growth.
So many people on this website (and wider society) treat misogyny as something that woman can 'run away' from or just avoid if she's smart enough. That if she just dates the right men, chooses the right job, the right friends, the correct hobbies, and consumes the correct media, then she can free herself from patriarchy or atleast the worse of its effects.
Not only does this set up patriarchy as something individual and nebulous (therefore able to avoided with correct individual actions) rather than something systematic and wide reaching, but it also sets up misogyny experienced by women as being that women's personal failing. And therefore, somewhat deserved. After all, what did you expect when you married a man Like That? When you went into one of those kind of jobs, when you picked up That hobby? When you read that kind of book?
At its core it gives women no room for complaint (after all if YOU chose better YOU wouldn't be in this situation), diminishes the importance of organising (why organise when misogyny is experienced due to ~life style choices~ rather than systems of oppression) and lastly obscures the very nature by which patriarchy functions, centering women in a way that implies they bring patriarchy upon themselves rather than have it inflicted on them BY men. But what can I say? Who doesn't love to blame women for it all.
Today is the day my debut novel, Sight Unseen, is officially yeeted into the US and Canadian markets 🇺🇸🇨🇦
Thank you to everyone who has been on this journey with me, no matter when you hopped aboard or how you supported! I hope you love Veda, Hiram, and Antaris as much as I do.
AN: We're almost done! Just a few more weeks. I had tossed around the idea of adding a follow up short series but my husband lost his job so I'll be picking up more hours at work so… rip that plan
Previous Chapter -- Masterlist -- AO3 -- Kofi Want a bonus chapter? See the post on Kofi for details. Or just to say hey, thanks for the fic!
The clock in the room ticked on, each movement of the hands feeling like a physical stab. It marked the passage of each second with a deafening cacophony that didn’t seem to bother anyone but him.
Tom hated that clock. He hated the beep of the machines. He hated the white walls and sparkling clean floors. He hated the chill in the air. He hated everything about where he sat, but he wouldn’t leave.
Exhaustion weighed on him. The nurse came in and checked her watch, noting the late hour.
“I’m sorry,” Tom said, grabbing his bag. “I know visiting ended a while ago.”
“I don’t see anyone in this room but the patient,” she said, winking at him. “Stay as long as you’d like. It’s better for her.”
“Do you think she’ll wake up?” Tom asked, knowing full well he’d already asked the doctor that same question earlier in the day. “It’s been a week.”
“I hope she does,” the nurse said. “But I can’t say what the future holds.”
As the nurse went about the checks she performed every few hours, Tom’s phone rang. Tom watched his agent’s name on the screen before dismissing the call. He couldn’t make himself do a phone call right now. Instead, Tom texted him back.
“At the hospital with Mia.”
“Any news?” his agent Josh sent back.
“None.”
“She’s in our prayers.” Josh quickly followed the message up with another. “There’s role opening up that’s perfect for you. They’re asking for you by name. It’s a Shakespeare rework- I know how much you love those.”
“I can’t take on another project right now,” Tom sent back, interrupting the string of texts.
“It’s perfect, Tom. You need to get your mind off everything. It’s local. You won’t ever be more than an hour from the hospital. It’s just a voice gig.”
“I can’t.” Tom sent again.
“You’ll be voicing the love interest. It’s a pretty small role, all things considered. You’d be playing opposite to Margaret.”
“No.” Tom sent back before hitting the call button. As soon as Josh answered, Tom started in, not waiting for whatever Josh was going to convince him to take the role with. “My wife is in the hospital. She was hit by a bloody car while going for a walk after we got into a damned argument because I fucked Margaret. You’re bloody mad if you think I’ll work with Margaret right now.”
“Tom, listen.”
“No.” Tom thrust his hand through his hair. “There’s no working with Margaret. Not now. Not ever.”
“Just-”
“You do realize she perused me, right? For bloody months. She’s married, too. Yet she was wiggling her way in, doing it in a way that I didn’t notice. She saw a man struggling and set things up so I would fall and for what? Because she regretted her actions? Regretted her marriage? I had a few moments of weakness, but she initiated everything. I will not put myself at risk again. I will not put my marriage at risk again.”
Tom hung up, not waiting to listen to whatever Josh was going to say in defense of himself or the role. If Margaret was involved, he wanted nothing to do with it. She’d led him down a path that nearly ruined his marriage.
That was, of course, assuming Mia didn’t leave him if she woke up.
When she woke up.
Words blurred together, their meaning lost but the comfort that came from the voice itself remained. She knew that voice. That voice was safety. It was love.
It was also pain.
But that didn’t matter. There was pain in the darkness too, so much pain. It felt like she was going to drown in that pain.
All she could cling to was the sound of the voice, saying words that meant nothing.
Her limbs felt heavy, like she was trying to move them through a sea of wet concrete. All she could do was try to chase that voice with her mind.
Her fingers twitched, the first attempt at reclaiming her body. It felt like a monumental victory to feel the blankets shift under her fingertips. There was so much fog in her mind.
The voice kept talking. Who was it? Who did that voice belong to? It sounded like home.
“Tom?” It took what felt like a hundred tries to force his name out. When his voice stopped though, she had to. She didn’t want him to leave her alone in the darkness and the pain.
“Mia?” Tom’s knees nearly went out from under him when he heard her. He was sure it was a figment of his imagination, a manifestation of his desperate need for her to wake up when he heard her the first time.
“Tom?” It took all her effort to open her eyes. They were so heavy. It felt like someone poured sand in her eyes while she’d been asleep. No, not asleep. Away? That felt more accurate. She’d been away.
“Stay right there,” Tom said, turning and rushing out of the too bright room.
Mia wanted to say something about how she couldn’t go anywhere, even if she wanted to, but the words were too heavy to get out.
She knew she was upset with him. She knew there was something he did that hurt her. There was something that happened, but she couldn’t say what it was.
In the hall, Tom yelled, and then there was chaos. People were around, saying things and shining a penlight into her eyes. They asked her questions that floated away before everything else floated away, too.
Tom needed to be convinced to leave the hospital to allow for Mia to rest. While she woke briefly, they assured Tom she likely wouldn’t wake again for a few hours and if she did, they probably wouldn’t see anything more like the Mia he knows until morning.
It was first thing in the morning when Tom was rushing back to the hospital, leaving Sally with his mum.
“Call as soon as you know anything,” she called as he walked out of the door.
Mia was sitting up in the hospital bed, looking frail and pale as a ghost. The fork in her hand shook, highlighting the tremor in her hand as she struggled to bring the bite of food to her lips.
“Mia,” Tom wheezed her name. No one told him she was awake again. No one told him she was awake enough to be sitting up and eating. “You’re awake.”
“Mr. Hiddleston,” the doctor, Tom lost the ability to keep track of their names a few days ago, stepped out from around the bed. “Your wife hasn’t been awake long. We were going to call you, but we just finished the neurological exams.”
“And?” Tom asked, stepping closer to the bed, scared that if he looked away from Mia, something would happen and she’d fall back asleep, never to wake again.
“Everything looks normal. She’s got a long recovery ahead of her.” The doctor looked at Tom and Mia one last time. “I’ll let you two be.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Tom walked slowly toward the bed. Had his knees felt this weak when he walked toward her at the wedding altar? He wished he could remember.
He collapsed into the chair, dragging it closer to the bed.
“Mia,” he whispered.
Her head rolled to look at him, making her look all the more frail.
“Tom.” She smiled weakly at him.
“I’m so sorry,” Tom said. Mia watched with tired eyes as the man she loved crumbled apart. “I am so sorry, Mia. I never meant for any of this to happen.”
He held her hand in his as if it would somehow save him.
“I know,” she said, voice weak. “They said it was a car. Not your fault.”
“You wouldn’t have been out walking if I…” Tom was scared to finish the sentence. What if she didn’t remember what he’d done? What good would reminding her do in her condition? What harm would it do?
“If we hadn’t gotten into a fight?” Mia offered.
“Mia,” Tom leaned forward, resting his forehead against the back of Mia’s hand. Tears dripped from Tom’s eyes, landing on the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
She carded her fingers through his hair, looking down at him as he cried with relief and regret. “I know, Tom.” When his breathing slowed, she asked, “What did I miss? Where’s Sally?”
Tom surprised himself by laughing. He shook his head, but it was more like rocking it from side to side. “Sally’s having breakfast with mum. She’s been staying at the house and helping with her while I’ve been here… a lot.”
“Oh,” Mia said.
“I’ve been spending time with her too,” Tom said quickly. “It’s just… I didn’t want her here to see you right away. I didn’t want to scare her until we knew more of what things looked like.”
“That makes sense. What… else have I missed?”
Tom took a slow, deep breath. “The tabloids caught wind of the accident and went off the deep end on speculation, putting the timing together with…”
“The affair.” Mia seemed to melt into the bed. The reminder of what Tom had done seemed to zap what little strength she had.
“It wasn’t an affair,” Tom protested weakly. “It was just one night. One mistake.”
“I know,” Mia said, though she wasn’t sure if she believed him. “How much will all this cost me? Us?”
Tom squeezed Mia’s hand, thankful to hear any reference of an ‘us’ between them. “It’s not something you need to worry about. This isn’t America, it’s not going to bankrupt us. We’ll be fine. What matters is that you get better so we can figure everything else out.”
“So the tabloids think the cheating put me in the hospital?” Mia felt the fog creeping in again and the last thing she wanted was to go back to sleeping. She wanted to be awake and to see her daughter. She wanted to know everything she missed.
“Some of them thought I did it.”
“Why?” Mia forced her eyes open.
“People like to say terrible things.” Tom smoothed down her hair. “Rest. We’ll talk more after you’ve slept some. Mum will bring Sally by for lunch.”
He didn’t really have to tell Mia that. She wanted to fight it, but the need to sleep was stronger. She surfaced again an hour or so later to the sound of Tom’s voice.
“I don’t care what he has to say. Mia’s getting better. He can say whatever he wants, but there’s nothing he can do.”
“What’s happening?” Mia asked, swimming back to wakefulness. It was easier each time.
“I’ve got to go, mate. She’s awake again.” Tom hung up the call and rushed to Mia’s side.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing for you to worry about right now.” Tom pulled the chair closer to her bed.
“Please, Tom. Just tell me.”
“You’re stubborn,” Tom smiled through the accusation. “You know that, right?”
“Yeah,” Mia said.
“Ray got word of… well, of everything. He got himself a lawyer. When the tabloids reported, incorrectly, the severity of the accident, they made some filings to force Sally’s return to the States.”
“Oh, my god!”
“Calm down,” Tom squeezed her hand. “I hired some of my own… our own to counter. We were able to block, for now, contingent on if you’d wake up. You woke up, now his emergency petitions have no grounds.”
“You did that?”
“I knew you wouldn’t want Sally to go with him, not to live when he couldn’t even come see her. You’d want her with Ashley or… I’d hope… with me?”
“You love her,” Mia turned her hand in his, wrapping her fingers around his hand and squeezing. “I love how much you love her. She deserves to be loved by a father. You love her like that. You love us like we deserve.”
“I don’t… You deserve better from me.”
“We’re human,” Mia whispered. “We make mistakes. I’ve made so many. I think you’re allowed a few… even if this one was a colossal one.”
“Does that mean you… forgive me?”
“I don’t know yet.” Mia wished she could say yes. “All I know is you love me and Sally.”
“I do,” Tom said. “There’s more with the lawyers to talk about, when you’re stronger. It’s nothing urgent or that can’t wait.”
“Okay,” Mia said, sleepily.
“Do you want to sleep?”
“No, but if I do, will you wake me when Sally gets here?” There was a deep ache in Mia’s soul that would only be soothed by seeing her daughter with her own eyes and knowing she was alright.
“Of course,” Tom smoothed back her hair as he spoke, leaning in to place a kiss at her temple.
“I’ve haven’t gotten you in trouble, missing things while I’ve been here, have I?” The last thing Mia ever wanted was to cause problems in Tom’s career.
“What would make you say that? I’m taking care of you. Everyone understands that.”
“But I… I thought I remembered you arguing with someone…”
“I turned down a voice over project, that’s all.”
“Why?”
“It’s with… It’s with Margaret.”
“Oh,”
He squeezed his wife’s hand again, not relaxing his grip until her tired eyes turned back to him. “I’m not going to work with her again. I don’t want to be around her. I don’t want to see her or talk to her. I’m not going to give her a chance to use what we had and how she regrets throwing it away to take advantage of my weakness.”
“Okay,” Mia said.
Did it matter? She wasn’t sure. What if it wasn’t Margaret that drove him to cheating? What if it had nothing to do with her? Would he have cheated anyway, if not with her then with someone else?
Was Margaret still really that special?
Was it better or worse if she was?
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