Breathe

Chapter 6

 John's first sighting of Marlena after nearly six years broke his heart. She was too thin, looking wane, with a lavender hue underneath her eyes. She was much thinner than he expected her to be. Her hair had grown long, nearly halfway down her back, in honey blonde waves. It was pulled into a loose disheveled ponytail at the base of her skull. She wore a soft cotton dress of yellow gingham, and in her arms was a small child. His son. John couldn't see the boy's face because it was buried in her neck, and his legs were wound tightly around her waist. Tension lined her body, and it translated into the way his son held onto his mother. It was fear, and it was apprehension. Marlena stepped out of the shadow of the humvee, and as soon as she looked up, her eyes caught his. For the first time in six years their eyes met, and John felt it all as if it were yesterday. It nearly broke his heart. Her eyes had always been expressive, telling a story without words, and in that moment her hazel eyes told the saddest story he could imagine. A tale of deprivation, loneliness, and pain. Stefano had hurt her. He'd hurt her so tragically that it would take years to heal. Maybe she would never fully heal, but John knew in an instant that he would be by her side no matter what. He wanted to run to her, and pull her into his arms, but from the look in her eyes it would be a mistake. Rushing towards her, or touching her right then would hurt her more than anything. While her eyes seemed to call for him, she also seemed to be telling him to stay back.

Walking carefully towards her, he reached where she stood at the back end of the humvee, and he smiled softly, saying, "Hey, Doc."

The humvees had driven onto the tarmac, parking near the airplane. The walk to the plane would be short, which John was grateful for, because Marlena looked weak and overwhelmed.

"You came for us," she said softly, almost as if she was surprised, or it was a question as to whether he would. She smiled, not just because he was there, but because he was there and he knew he wasn't Roman.

"I would always come for you," he told her in a gentle voice, studying every nuance of her face. He saw her wariness. She actually believed he might not. She'd been worried that he might leave her. What had Stefano done to her? He glanced down at her neck, and saw the bruising that already showed the impression of someone's fingers. He wanted to touch her, but all he could do was apologize. "He hurt you. I'm so sorry."

Avi heard the strange man's voice, and lifted his face from where he'd been hiding in his mother's neck. He watched John carefully with wide blue eyes.

That face. John was immediately struck with love. That was his son. His boy. He couldn't get over how much the child looked like him. Glancing at Marlena, their eyes caught, and he realized just from that short glance at his child, Marlena knew he wasn't Roman. Looking at his son again, there was no way she didn't know.

The two of them studied each other - a young child and a middle aged man. The shape of Avi's face, and the slope of his nose. Then there was his dark black hair, and the smirk he wore as if he'd studied John for years.

Marlena tipped her head down, speaking quietly to their son, "Avi, honey, this is your Daddy. Remember I told you stories about him?"

Avi stared at John with even more interest, as if he already knew him. His Daddy was a hero. "Mio Papà?"

She smiled, kissing his head. Stroking his soft hair, she replied, "Yes, baby, your Papà."

Avi studied John intently, and then looked at Marlena again, "English or Spanish?"

"English, honey," she told him. She hoped that the stories she'd been telling Avi since birth were enough. She hoped that Avi knew how much this man would love him, and how safe he would be with him. "Do you want to say hello?"