hang out in your heart

when the sun came up you were looking at me

Stevie is finally sleeping.

Before he swings the door shut, Lindsey takes one final peek into the dark bedroom, breathing a sigh of relief as he notes that, for the first time in days, the blonde is indeed deep in a peaceful slumber. The two of them had been holed up in the New York City hotel suite for days on end as Stevie had battled pneumonia, her swollen vocal cords forcing her to speak in only whispers. The only visitor that Stevie had allowed was the doctor that she had finally acquiesced to seeing after refusing to go to the hospital ("I don't need photos coming out of me in one of those awful gowns, Lindsey," she had croaked out, even while the short sentence had sent her into another coughing fit). For his part, the guitarist has barely left her side for the past week, holding her small hand in his as she coughed what seemed to be both of her lungs up, timing out doses of antibiotics, insisting she try to get one more spoonful of soup down when she'd barely been able to swallow. It's been a nerve-wracking several days, to say the least, but at last Stevie seems to have taken a turn for the better.

Lindsey wanders through the suite aimlessly, and the silence that surrounds him feels unfamiliar, though not unsettling. It is in fact a moment of solace, hard won after the chaos of the previous week, of the doctor visiting several times a day, of the wheezing sound of Stevie's breathing, of the phone ringing off the hook by tour managers and the other members of the band looking for any new indication that the singer might be feeling well enough to get back to the stage. Each day that had gone by with Lindsey having to inform the disappointed voice on the other end of the phone, "No, we should probably cancel again," he'd felt the frustration of the large amount of people whose wages were depending on the singer getting better. Not to mention his unending worry for her, the anxiety bubbling up in his chest with each cough she let out. Stevie had been a reluctant patient, hating as always to admit weakness, but he was thankful that through it all, she had allowed him to stay by her side.

Lindsey eventually makes his way to the couch, turning on the tv to a low volume. He feels his eyes drooping, his exhaustion penetrating every inch of his body, and though it feels like he only blinks, when he opens them once again, the darkness outside the window tells him that several hours at least have gone by. He sits up in a panic, listening for movement in the other room, but is met only with the still-echoing silence that penetrates the space. He takes a cleansing breath, turning the tv off and stretching his tight muscles, rotating his neck back and forth, the soreness from sleeping at a weird angle against rough couch pillows taking its toll.

The truth is, Lindsey had been worried about Stevie for weeks. In addition to the unending travel and back to back to back shows, both singers had been through more than a little bit of stress, and with Stevie so susceptible to getting sick, it's no surprise that it had finally worn her down. The band, after realizing how ill she actually was, had sent the crew and backing band home for the week, with only Lindsey and Stevie staying in New York while she recovered. He had really heard it from Kristen when he informed her of that decision - "You're telling me that you have the opportunity to come home and see your children and you're choosing to spend it with her instead?" - but after seeing Stevie the way she had been, it was a no brainer. She needed him. And, as he'd always done, he was there for her. Besides, he already had plans to go see the children in a little over a week - a small break in the tour dates had seemed like the perfect opportunity for Lindsey to fly home for two days to tell them the news about his separation from their mother. To say he wasn't looking forward to it is an understatement; every time he thinks about it, he feels an ache so deep in his heart that he thinks it might split in two. His children have wanted for nothing in their short lives, and the idea that he would be the cause of their pain is wrenching. But the longer he and Kristen wait to do it, the more he will find an excuse not to, and he knows that's not an option. Time to rip off the bandaid, so to speak.