Whisper My Name

Chapter 24

February 12, 1992

Charles Wright Cabin, Outside Telluride, Colorado

You lock up your feelings - nobody's fool

You're facing the world

With your fist clenched tight...

Don't forget to remember

She's coming up in back

Even you surrender

Surrender to her sweet attack

~ Ambush ~ Heart ~

Marlena was floating on a cloud. She knew she was with John, in a cabin in Colorado... but maybe that was on a cloud. She lay in a half filled tub of water oblivious to her own nudity, and her head rolled towards John. He was beautiful. Shirtless and muscly. She giggled. Her thoughts were jumbled. His hands felt like heaven, and his lips looked like sin.

He seemed focused, his face lined with determination as he washed her skin in a brisk fashion. She could feel the rough scrub of the washrag over her. She was swimming in a sensation of lightness. It was possible that his hands weren't being rough. Marlena sighed softly, closing her eyes. She allowed herself to feel the buoyancy that came with the morphine. It dulled the pain of her gunshot wound, leaving nothing but a throbbing ache in its wake, but it dulled everything else as well. Her mind was adrift. It was possible... possible... she was floating on a sea. Her eyes started to close, and then she heard John, "Keep those eyes open, baby. No sleeping in the bathtub."

His hands swept across her body in delicious waves. Opening her eyes slowly, she stared up at him half-lidded, and she smiled, "I love you, you know."

"You've told me that a lot lately," he replied softly. He was almost done washing her. He'd decided to dose her with morphine, and then wait an hour. Once it was in full effect it would be easier to move her to the tub, and if he moved quickly enough, he could get her back to bed without much pain. Her gunshot wound was healing nicely, and it was with great relief that he noticed no signs of infection. The new skin growth was a soft shade of pink around the edges and there was no heat to it. The more difficult issue was the occasional way Marlena purred or sighed when he touched her. The way she was arching into his hands. As fast as he tried to bathe her, it was absolute torture trying to stay focused when her eyes and her body were calling to him.

"I never told you that," she said, her words slightly slurred. "I... I never told you I love you... not when I should have... may-maybe if I told you, you would have picked me. You would have picked me... and not Isabella. But you didn't pick me. You didn't... She's–she doesn't deserve you. I deserved you... but I don't think you wanted me."

John noticed tears slipping from the corners of Marlena's eyes. "Hey... what's this? Why are you crying?"

She continued to cry softly, "I wanted you, but you didn't want me." She closed her eyes, and allowed her head to roll to the side. It was too heavy. She cried softly, "I'm selfish... I'm so selfish. Isabella said so. She said I was..."

"Doc, no." He brushed the tears from her face, and set the washcloth aside. Using a cup from the kitchen, he rinsed her soft skin, refusing to allow himself even a few seconds to admire what he saw. She was high, higher than usual since he'd added 5 milligrams to her morphine dosage. It didn't mean that he was immune to the way her breasts floated in the water, or the way her legs parted with a soft gasp as he washed her skin. He sighed, "You are the kindest, most giving soul I know. Isabella is angry, and jealous, but you are not selfish. Never you."