After Maison Blanche

Chapter 13

The following day, Marlena and John decided it was time to go home. They boarded Victor's aircraft, and Marlena stopped short, staring into the cabin. John rested his body behind hers, allowing her to feel his heat, and his fingers rested along her hips, "You okay, Doc?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I was just remembering..."

John's lips touched the shell of her ear, and he said softly, "I felt like my heart was being torn from my body that night."

"I know," she replied, finally stepping inside, and making her way to the couch. "I can't even explain or fully understand what was going through my mind on that night." She sat down, running her palm over the soft leather, and she looked up at John, "I was so afraid you would leave. Everything in my life was so oppressive."

"Oppressive?"

"I—I was dealing with the fallout from the kidnapping. Nightmares, anxiety, panic attacks...and Roman...he worked constantly, so I was alone, dealing with everything alone. He blamed me, you know..."

John sat beside her, pulling her close, "He blamed you? For your own kidnapping?"

"Roger had kissed me, a few weeks earlier, and although I had given the case over to another therapist, Stella was still...unstable." Marlena was quiet for a moment, and she said quietly, "Roman and I had argued over the Lombard case the whole time. He felt as if I was too personally invested. Maybe I was...he was never home, and I felt so alone. Roger has such talent, and so much promise. I focused on helping him. Roger became too attached to me...and, maybe that was my fault."

"Doc," John said, stroking his fingers along the column of her neck. "It's not hard to believe that someone might be attracted to you, but I don't believe you would ever encourage that."

"Of course not, but Stella thought I had, and Roman...Roman just liked to be right. He had been arguing that I shouldn't be on the case, and Roger becoming infatuated with me...made Roman feel justified," she told him. "And then, the night Stella kidnapped me, Roman and I had a horrible fight."

"I didn't know that."

"I never told you," she said. "It was about you, and my attachment to you, my attachment to my job...he wanted everything to be the way it was before Stefano took him away. Roman's wants...his agenda, he pushed it so aggressively, and I was dying inside. Leaving for that conference in Washington D.C.? That was me running from myself."

"I'm confused, Doc. How were you running from yourself?"

Marlena looked up at him, "I was...feeling things for you, again. Things I had pushed down for so long, and I wasn't ready to face them. We were on the balcony that night. Do you remember? The night of the art benefit, and I looked up at you, and my heart swelled with love. I knew I was lost."

"I felt something, too," John said. "You were beautiful. I had no intention of going to the art benefit that night, until you and Roman showed up at my loft. My feelings for you...it was so soon after Isabella, it left me feeling confused and guilty. When we were in the pit, I realized that I had never stopped loving you. Isabella's death...it hurt. It was a pain like no other, but I've had time to realize that my love for Isabella, as real as it was, it masked my love for you."

"When I came to the plane that night, John...I intended to stop you from leaving. I didn't have a plan, but I was desperate. I was feeling wild, and all I could think about was waking up the following morning and knowing you weren't in Salem anymore. I couldn't handle it. I remember driving home after I left your loft—"

"—you went to the loft?"

"John!" she cried softly, touching his freshly shaved face. "You were leaving me! I had to stop you. By the time I arrived at the airport I was certain you were gone...but you weren't. My emotions...they kept going higher, my body was tight with tension, and then you kissed me...and I was lost."