A Verse Unsung – By Pier29

Every question possesses a power often lost in the answer… – Unknown

“Do you love me?”

They are delicately spoken, gentle and tentative in their utterance. But words whose import nonetheless, carries like a gunshot – the bullet having shattered the glasshouse of her own crippling, internalised phobia, at long last.

She waits, perfectly still, for his verdict; for the hailstorm of serrated shards to come pelting down and give purchase to her intangible pain.  After all, the physical nature of a wound or haemorrhage necessarily prescribes treatment; Healing.

Roman’s head snaps up to look at her; his devastatingly beautiful wife.  She’s a little thinner than he remembers; her pretty face slightly gaunt beneath her white-blonde tresses; a tell tale sign of the suffering she must have endured whilst missing.  It’s yet another reminder of this precious vulnerability she harbours; one she only ever expressed to him. In this moment it dawns on him – she is no longer the self-assured doctor who, once upon a time, held her hand out for him to take steering him fearlessly through a minefield of memories he thought were lost to him forever.  No, this time the tables are turned and he doesn’t trust himself to do the same for her.

“What?” he whispers softly, in disbelief. His expression is one of honest incredulity.

She cannot bear to repeat the question. She physically aches with it. “I love you,” she confesses, quietly. Passionately. “…As much as I did five years ago – as much as I have in my whole life.” A brave smile adorns her features even as her beguiling green-brown eyes sparkle from unshed tears that well to the brims of her lashes. Truth be told she feels as fragile and frightened as a child… but she stands tall and fierce; Marlena Evans Brady.

He is taken aback by her question. Not by her admission. He knows she loves him to the depths of her soul; to eternity and back. He knows because that is how much he loved her once upon a time; completely; faithfully. He has never loved another woman in the same way. Never could. Something that died inside me five years ago, was *alive* again. Those words came straight from his battered heart.

“…But I don’t know how you feel,” she continues tentatively searching his eyes. “I don’t know if the last five years have made you *for-get* what we had together.” Her voice cracks on those final words, the mere thought that he has truly moved on with Isabella and forgotten the love they shared, too overwhelming for her.

“Come on, how can you say that??” he counters earnestly. He is not being disingenuous; naive, perhaps. Even as the words roll off his parched tongue Roman realises deep down her question is not unwarranted or unfair. Nor is it an enquiry about chaste, platonic feelings of caring, of friendship, of family and appreciation – of polite kisses on the cheek and casual pats on the back. She is talking about that aching, pounding, powerful and all consuming feeling that compels the meshing of two bodies, of two lovers; the force that once drove him inexorably inside her, twitching, contracting, stiffening, swelling; The ensuing warmth that made her limbs tremble and her toes curl; The hot throbbing of her inner thighs as they accommodated him and burned long after he withdrew. She is talking about the emptiness, now that it is gone; the sheer agony knowing his body no longer *needs* and craves hers in the same way hers does his.

She answers him honestly. “Because you don’t *show* me. Because you don’t even tell me.” There is no recrimination in her voice, just a bone-deep sadness that is reflected in her eyes.

Even faced with the indictment, he *still* can’t bring himself to say the three simple words she longs to hear. It’s too soon.

“I am letting you down aren’t I?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. It’s not a question, really. Even if she doesn’t blame him, he feels he is failing her. “I don’t want to, Doc. I just don’t know how to handle this.” He rakes his hands through his hair in frustration.

All she knows in her heart is how she wishes he would handle it; and for just a fleeting moment that night on the pier, when his tongue filled her mouth – his need for her greater than his need for air, she was certain he would never let her go.

She was mistaken…

“This is not exactly the kind of homecoming you were expecting, is it?”

“I don’t know what I expected, really.” It is a lie even before it leaves her mouth. She certainly didn’t expect to be left alone, Isabella or no Isabella.

It’s these simple truths that wake her from fitful slumber night after night, launching her tired body up off the mattress most recently occupied by another woman, as though it is made of burning coal. It’s these simple truths that make her wonder if perhaps she never should have returned. In fact, a few nights ago, when she was sure sleep had claimed Roman and the twins, she had almost plucked up the courage to leave; to sneak out like a thief.

What few belongings she has are packed haphazardly with violently trembling hands, eyes unseeing, stinging and blood shot from the endless tears. Her chilled fingers refuse to cooperate and play the role of accomplice to her cowardice, adding to Marlena’s mounting distress. Her chest heaves with each violent sob. Any attempt to stifle the mournful sounds is futile. Air fills her lungs until she is paralysed with it. This is best for her children and for him she reasons, as she stuffs the last of her clothes in the bag and seals the deal with one final tug of the zip. The last thing she wants to do is to hurt them, to hurt him, to be the source of so much confusion; feelings she is all too familiar with. And yet she cannot help herself. As she walks past the guest room door, where he sleeps, she stops, torn. This man and these children are her life.  She cannot just let them go.

Unless of course he wants her to. Does he want her to let him go?

She waits, deceptively calm and stoic but inside she feels ravaged. She waits for him to just love her, to touch her soul like only he knows how and relieve her of this emptiness and unspeakable pain. She is so afraid to hear his answer; she hangs on his every word, his every move, the slightest twitch of his jaw… her breath is lodged somewhere deep in her aching chest waiting for something. Anything. One final blow, to put an end to the suffering.

Moments pass and Roman aches to tell her – to bring the life back to what are now haunted hazel eyes. He can’t do it. He just can’t say the words she needs to hear. He can’t even deal with the mere memory of the feelings that threatened to destroy him when he thought he had lost her in the plane crash. And if he is honest with himself, he’s not sure that he is dealing with memories and not the real thing even after all these years. She was his entire world then. He can’t love her only to lose her and go through that again. To have feelings that profound for someone, for *her*, was almost his undoing. And here he is, here *she* is, unwittingly demolishing these walls he so painstakingly built to protect his psyche. She is not even aware that she is doing it but she permeates the fissures of his dormant consciousness and it is in this moment that it dawns on him… his entire being never ceased thrumming for her; his heart never stopped beating her name.

It simply became too painful to listen to it.

Now, he often catches himself watching her, remembering all the little things she would do; gestures that still turn his insides to mush and make his heart melt… The way her eyes crinkle up at the corners and sparkle when she smiles at him; The way her small, dainty hand fits perfectly in his oversized paw; The way she discreetly reaches for him, threading her fingers between his in public places while engaged in idle chit chat with others; The way she makes small fists when she is afraid; The way tiny hiccups escape her slightly parted lips when she cries. The way she gently lays her head in the crook of his neck and nuzzles him there, her hand instinctively finding his heartbeat as they dance; The way her delicate scent fills his nostrils and notifies every part of his body of her presence, of her nearness; The way her hot, heavy breaths ignite the already tingling skin just beneath his ear as he hovers above her; The way her faint but urgent whimpering does something to his libido as he cleaves her again and again while her soft hands desperately clutch at him.

Just one powerful little memory and the intensity with which he loved her in the past, hits him suddenly, rendering him breathless.

And then as quickly as his memories take on a life of their own, thoughts of Isabella encroach on his reminiscence, effectively re-building this impenetrable wall between himself and Marlena. The guilt gnaws at him like a savage vulture when he entertains the possibility of being able to relive that again, so too does the fear.

Isabella is the safe choice. He fell in love with her, he did. He still loves her. It has just never been the same; never so intense.  And he has resigned himself to that. Roman has become accustomed to living a life without these all-encompassing emotions. He prefers it that way. In fact, if asked, he would argue that he is better off without them. Detachment is safe and the loss of something so precious to him has hardened him considerably.

Besides, he is lucky and grateful enough to have experienced the kind of love and passion he shared with Marlena once in this lifetime. Roman has been very protective of her place in his life and her memory, guarding her in the most intimate and private recesses of his heart and mind. As far as he is concerned he will never let anybody replace her. She is *it* and he is forever a changed man because of her; ruined for anybody else. He will *never* be the same again.

It has been five long years since his heart has fluttered at the mere sight of a woman; five years since he has worn that goofy, besotted grin; five long, agonising years since he has felt so alive, so connected to everyone and everything because she makes him feel so complete and so loved. Since her death he had been so withdrawn that he was merely existing. Without her, it was the only way he knew how to be.

He had forgotten what it was like to be so utterly consumed by someone in that way, to be so devoted to, and enraptured by them. He had forgotten the sweaty palms and the furious rush of blood humming the pulse beats of life from his head to his toes. But his body hadn’t forgotten. His body is still so aware of her and it frightens him.

So he stands here before her, distant and unwilling.

“I can’t plan a future until I deal with the past,” he says noncommittally, his voice infused with regret.

Excuse of the century.

She wraps her arms around herself as if to ward off what feels like a physical blow. She is so afraid that he just doesn’t want to tell her that his love belongs to Isabella now; that he wants and needs Isabella now and yet deep down inside she has a nagging feeling it’s true.

Tears well up and spill over her long, dark lashes, forming steady streams down her cheeks. She closes her eyes, painfully and purses her lips.

“I’m sorry, Doc – it’s just the way I am.” His voice is cool and steady now, no ounce of emotion.

She swipes away at the tears cursorily, feeling embarrassed that she let him see her naked vulnerability, and nods pretending to understand, because understand she does not. She can’t imagine not loving him or not wanting him or thinking twice about being with him.

*****

Roman is a nervous ball of energy this morning as he scurries about upstairs preparing to leave for work, most likely cursing himself for having slept in. It is unusual that he is still home so late. Marlena senses his unease from the kitchen where she is seeking a strong hit of caffeine to jolt her nerves.  The floor boards upstairs never did provide for effective sound-proof between the second and first floor, she recalls with amusement. Protecting the children and Hazel from the sounds of their lovemaking proved to be quite the feat. Now, nothing shields her from the sounds of Roman’s hurried movements and his apparent anxiety to be anywhere but here, with her. The irony does not escape her. Nevertheless, she has become accustomed to his reticence.  He has been so detached; so cold. She doesn’t see him for days at a time and she feels responsible; wretched; unwanted. It causes her to question the wisdom of having confronted him about his feelings for her weeks ago. Do you love me??? The little voice inside her head repeats the words scornfully, mocking her. Since that day, he has retreated even further from her, it seems.

 

The timer on the percolator disturbs Marlena’s rumination. She is particularly tired this morning. Her head feels like lead, her body strained and the dull ache of overwrought muscle extends from her calves to her upper back. She chalks it down to a restless slumber although last night was the first time she recalls having slept so long. She reaches up to her right shoulder attempting to knead the knot there. With her free hand she begins to pour the coffee when she hears Roman’s muffled footsteps descending the stairs.

 

“Shit!” she jumps back and curses as she sloshes the steaming water from the percolator over the rim of the mug and onto the countertop in her haste to get to Roman before he walks out the door. The dark brown-black puddle of liquid lays forgotten in her wake, gradually gravitating to the edge of the countertop where small drops eventually secede and begin their freefall, dripping and splattering one after the other as if timed, on the tiled floor.

 

“Roman! Please wait.”

 

Met with his stiff countenance, she almost loses her nerve. He does not turn to face her.

 

“Will you be home tonight?” So we can talk.

 

Behind the question is a desperate plea. She cringes when she hears herself utter those words with such need. She doesn’t really believe he will come home to her. The flinching confidence in her voice is testament to that. She only wishes.

 

Something in her voice stops him at the door and his hand stills while turning the door knob. The door clicks open as his hand falls away. He feels compelled to look at her. When he faces her, he is met with such hope. It is there in those brilliant pools of gold, warring to triumph over a world full of pain and emotional scarring. He can only imagine what she has been through in the past five years. But it doesn’t quash her spirit.

 

As the moments pass between them however, that hope turns into quiet resignation. Roman’s gaze, although sympathetic, conveys fear, discomfort.

 

The air around them suddenly feels suffocating. She shouldn’t have asked, she thinks. Before he can reject her she starts in a stronger tone belying the hurt she feels.

 

“Roman, it’s okay, I know you have a lot of work to catch up on at the station,” she tries for a smile and is just about to turn back for the kitchen.

 

“Just stay safe for me, please?” her expression is filled with loving concern.

 

She can worry about him as a friend can’t she? Or is she expected to give that up for Isabella too? Does losing him to Isabella mean she loses every part of him? She is not sure even she can be that selfless.

 

“I’ll see you…” later? Tomorrow? Sometime. She doesn’t even know how to finish.

 

Roman’s heart constricts painfully as he watches his wife’s retreating form. His jaw sets tightly as he contemplates the front door and then the path to the kitchen Marlena took mere seconds ago. He can so easily just walk out that door like he intended to earlier this morning and avoid facing any of it but he doesn’t have it in him to leave her. Not like this. He turns abruptly, clenched fist raised, anger radiating from his entire being, intending to take it out on the door. Damn it all to hell! His face contorts with the frustration he feels as he smacks his flat palm against the door, saving his knuckles at the last minute, slamming it shut and sending a slight tremor through the adjacent walls.

 

Marlena flinches from the dull sound coming from the living room despite the fact her hypersensitive ears were trained there, expecting some indication of his inevitable retreat. He’s gone. Kneeling down on the kitchen floor she begins to wipe the spilled coffee off the tiles with a damp sponge. Her eyes sting as she attempts to keep the tears at bay and concentrate on the task before her. When she hears the unexpected creak of the kitchen door opening behind her, her head snaps around flicking an errant strand of her blonde hair over one tear filled eye, barely veiling the hurt.

 

“I thought you’d left…” the purposeful lilt in her voice is meant to convey nonchalance, indifference. To the man who has lived her, breathed her, loved her, she can’t be any more transparent.

 

He stands at the kitchen door, black hair dusted across his forehead as his tired blue eyes strip her bare.

 

She resumes cleaning the spill, patting nervously and ineffectively at the liquid with the now soaked sponge. She is too afraid to move from her position on the floor to wring the excess liquid out.

 

“Why did you come back?” Curiosity killed the cat, Marlena, she chides herself.

 

In two long strides Roman breaches the distance between them and drags her up into his fierce embrace pressing his lips to her hair with a tenderness that speaks of how infinitely precious she is to him. He cannot voice what he is feeling; he just hopes she knows how sorry he is. So damn sorry.

 

The worn leather of his favourite jacket crunches beneath her tight grip as Marlena buries her face into his chest, willing herself not to cry. This is so familiar, so safe; his distinctive scent, the warmth emanating from his entire being, the security of his arms as they crush her body against his – he throbs with love and she wants to stay here forever.

 

If he is sure of nothing else in his life, this feels so right. Her body moulds against his so perfectly. Moving back from her slightly, he takes her face in his hands and gazes down at her with watery beseeching eyes. As he speaks his next words, tightening his hold on her and imploring her to really hear them, Marlena compresses her trembling lips to keep from crying.

 

“No matter what happens, Doc, no matter what I do or say – no matter what I don’t…” he pauses frustrated, “*can’t* say, I don’t want you to *ever* doubt how happy I am that you have come back to us,” he finishes with fervour, his jaw set tight.

 

His eyes search hers for some kind of affirmation. She casts her gaze down towards the tiled floor and tilts her head to one side slightly, as much as his firm grip will allow, causing a lone tear to trickle out of the corner of her eye and slide down to meet his fingers.

 

“I’ll try.” It comes out as a strangled whisper and she chokes back a sob as she promises him again with a slight shrug, “I really will try.”

 

With her face still between his hands he leans down to kiss her lovingly on the forehead. He cannot resist. Her delicate beauty beckons him and he feels such an overwhelming need to console her, to touch her, to feel how alive she truly is.

 

She wraps her arms around his neck and closes her eyes as he lingers there for a moment longer taking in her sweet scent while his lips remain pressed against her.

 

“I love you, Roman.” It is gentle. It is barely audible. It is a breath; a sigh; a whisper straight from her heart. It’s the most beautiful declaration he has ever heard.

 

He tightens his hold on her and looks up towards the ceiling praying for mercy. He doesn’t think he can withstand anymore of this gut wrenching pain. He swallows convulsively past the aching lump in his throat.

 

It isn’t meant to add pressure on him. She isn’t waiting for him to say it in return. It is instinctive. Her heart is now burdened with what was once such a liberating feeling. In the past they didn’t go a day without speaking those three little words. She doesn’t have the right to say those words to him anymore; not without guilt; not without hurting. She isn’t sure she even has the right to feel this way about him anymore. It hurts him, it hurts the children, it hurts everybody; it has turned their world upside down. But she feels it to the depths of her screaming soul. And there is nobody who can hear its anguished cries. How do I make it stop?

 

“I’m sorry, Roman, I don’t mean…” her chest physically aches.

 

“Shhhh, it’s okay, Doc. I know,” he whispers against her forehead.

 

Marlena, eyes still closed, savours their closeness; a closeness she hasn’t felt since that night on the pier. He has been distancing himself from her physically and emotionally the last few weeks and she has needed him so.

 

Leaning back a little he waits for her to open her eyes. Slowly her lashes flutter open to reveal shimmering hazel eyes filled with doubt and unmitigated sorrow.

 

“I will come home to you, Marlena.”

 

Marlena slowly extricates herself from his grasp, bringing his hands down from her face and letting go of his wrists. She nods, unconvinced. “I hope you do,” she professes longingly with a wan smile.

 

He sees the spark of hope she is trying desperately to quash. Running his fingers along the side of her face, he lightly traces her defined cheekbones and sweeping jaw line. He tilts her chin up slightly, caressing it with the calloused pad of his thumb. “I promise you.”

 

He leaves finally. She follows him to the front door, closing it behind him and resting against it as the lock clicks into place. The solid timber cools her forehead where Roman’s lips rested moments earlier and a tired sigh escapes her lips.

 

Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Roman.

 

*****

 

The desk chair creaks as Roman tilts himself back while perusing files collated on Marlena’s disappearance, for what seems like the umpteenth time. Marlena’s words, her scant recollections, leap off the page in a jumbled mess; disjointed phrases seemingly having no bearing on one another. Even so, concentration eludes him at this very moment, this morning’s scene playing over and over in his mind. He knows his indecision is causing Marlena a world of pain. It’s precisely why he has been avoiding her as of late. He can’t face it; face her. He slams the thin manila folder down on the desk in frustration.  He is not sure where to go from here. He could ask Isabella for his ring back? But he loves her, doesn’t he? Then there is Marlena; his wife. But that was five years ago, wasn’t it? He stops dead in his tracks as realisation slowly sinks in like venom that eventually paralyses the heart… Divorce. That is what it all boils down to… Does he want to divorce Marlena? Snatching his leather jacket from the coat rack, Roman takes off like a haunted man.

 

*****

“And they all lived happily ever after…” Marlena finishes wistfully. She looks down at her sleeping babies as she closes the story book with a soft thud and sighs… Only in fairytales.

 

Sami and Eric are curled tightly around her body; her baby girl’s leg is intertwined with hers while her little man rests his head just below her left breast, his arm encircling her waist protectively. Just like your daddy, she muses.

 

She has spent the last few hours with them, getting to know them all over again, talking about their day at school, bathing them, reading them stories, memorising every fine detail from their toes to their father’s bright blue eyes; lapping up every moment. It’s like manna to her starving soul.

 

Sami and Eric have been scarred by her absence and starving for her affection despite Roman and Isabella’s best efforts. Just how much, is now becoming all too apparent to the psychiatrist and mother in Marlena as her children cling to her in their sleep, afraid to let her go. She croons softly, running her hands in their hair to settle them. It is a while before she is able to extricate herself from their tangled limbs to retire to her room.

 

*Their* room. She falls unceremoniously atop the bed with a sigh, both physically and emotionally exhausted. She will not cry herself to sleep tonight. After all, there are only so many tears. But ever since her return this is where she comes to drop her strong facade. The door closes and all pretences go out the window. She cannot let Roman know the true extent of her pain although she suspects he has a very good idea. Nonetheless, she tries so hard to be strong for him to make this all a little easier.

 

Despite its generous dimensions, being in this room without him suffocates her. Marlena never could handle confined spaces, neither real nor imagined. Especially those restrictive walls conjured by her mind. While, aesthetically, their bedroom bears no resemblance whatsoever to that dingy motel on Fourth Street that served as her temporary home, it is reminiscent of the time she spent there – it is that foreign; that frightening. She wishes she could take those few steps across the hallway, find the courage to knock on his door and ask him to just hold her and never let her go. But even if she had the nerve to do just that, Roman hasn’t come home like he promised. Marlena feels the familiar lead-like weight burdening her chest as her heart beat begins to accelerate, pounding waves of panic through her entire frame. Closing her eyes she calls upon memories of her life with him. Think happy thoughts, she trains herself. And slowly but surely, they begin to wash over her.

 

They shared a very full and happy life. To Marlena it feels like only yesterday that they were living it. It was just last night that he held her naked body flush against his as they shared their most intimate secrets; only last night that he expressed his desire to make another baby with her between his soft, wet kisses and the use of his nimble fingers.

 

He is already making plans to buy a sofa bed for guests so that the guest room can be used for their baby. Marlena squirms against him and giggles.

 

“A sofa bed?”

 

“Mhmmm.” He suckles insistently on her lightly freckled skin.

 

“Don’t you think you are getting ahh.. mmmm…ah-head of yourself?” She can’t keep the mirth from her voice or the smile from her lips as she arches her neck away from him, “honey, that tickles…” Truth be told, she loves his eagerness to be a daddy again.

 

“A-head of myself? What an interesting choice of words, baby.”

 

“You’re incorrigible,” she whispers.

 

She is immediately aware of the shift in mood when he presses himself up against her soft, bare buttocks suggestively, in answer to her question… With a hoarse voice he reminds her promptly of where his now semi-flaccid penis was just four and a half minutes ago… sans protection – and it’s not the first time tonight, nor will it be the last if she lets him have his way.

 

Her breathing becomes shallow as his hand slowly snakes its way down her abdomen. Marlena laces her slender fingers between his own and guides him further down until he comes to a stop between her thighs. Beneath the neatly trimmed, wiry patch of curls, he unveils her sex… supple and welcoming. Damp and warm. Still swollen and tender from their earlier lovemaking.

 

“Baby…” He groans inwardly as he begins fingering her; her piteous, mellifluous cry shatters the almost silence. She feels the lean hungry length of him harden and the tip of his purple plum shaped head leaves a glistening snail trail of pre cum against the small of her back. He loves to bathe her in his essence. She loves to wear him.

 

She brings one leg up and hooks it over him, opening herself to him, letting him know she wants it from behind.

 

“Spread them a little more for me, honey…” She complies.

 

He thanks her by flicking his tongue out and licking at the sensitive skin of her neck in gratitude. As she bucks against him involuntarily he presses his warm lips against her ear, nipping the lobe softly, wetting it, coaxing her, encouraging her to come in the palm of his hand; thrusting two stiff fingers inside her to help her along, baptising his wedding band in their combined juices which flow from deep within her.

 

“I wanted to touch you like this the first moment I ever laid eyes on you,” he rasps. “I wanted to have *this* part of you,” he adds more pressure.

 

“Oh…”

 

“Tell me.” He wants to hear it.

 

Her breathing is ragged and short gasps escape her, peppering the silence with every one of Roman’s hushed commands and unfaltering thrusts.

 

“It’s yours… I, I’m… yours,” she exhales.

 

Roman has her effectively pinned with the most loving, gentle, yet powerful hands she has ever known. He controls her and demands her submission with the tips of his fingers.

 

He whispers to her what he imagines their child will look like; how he cannot wait to watch her breasts swell and tummy expand, knowing that he is responsible for the change in her. He wants to hold her and watch as their perfect little baby leaves her body and comes into this imperfect world and then as its tiny but powerful little mouth suckles on her dusky, pebbled nipple drawing nourishment from her. He can’t remember if he ever watched her nurse the twins but can’t imagine wanting to miss out on the sight.

 

She hisses almost inaudibly, lost in a sea of sensation while writhing against him. The rough, calloused pad of his thumb feels exquisite against her hypersensitive nub and his long, thick, unyielding digits are powerful, demanding in their exploration of her. His nipples strain against her bare back; his sweat mixes with hers.

 

Frustration steadily mounts for the both of them as he quickens his movements to bring her to another climax.

 

Sex, with Roman, while not always necessarily slow, tender or loving has always been driven by very strong emotion; even the most swift and mechanical of acts they have committed over the years between slacks still hanging from his ass, hiked skirts, shredded pantyhose  or strategically placed panties, yes, even those have been inspired by emotion, good or bad. Her emotion, given the added impetus that will momentarily drive Roman’s pulsating penis between her thighs, wells up inside her. A tear rolls down her cheek, unnoticed by Roman. He has been trying to give her their third little piece of immortality.

 

“I love you,” she whispers as she feels it. “I want us to make this baby *now*.” She tries to spread her legs further apart. “I *need* you, Roman.”

 

“I love *you*,” he responds in a tone that is meant to challenge her proclamation. After all, no one could possibly love anybody more than he loves her. He proves it by marking her.

 

With the weight of his body and his arm still firmly placed between her legs, she feels him restrain her movement as he positions himself. His cock bobbles against her engorged lips depositing a dollop of his heady, viscous pre cum between her folds; keen to enter.

 

Somehow through the sexual haze enveloping her, Marlena notices the faint rays of daylight protruding through the slightest slit in the blinds. They have been talking, fondling and making love well into the early hours of the morning. It was never a bad thing until Carrie began making a habit of coming into their room early in the mornings and insinuating herself between the two of them.

 

“Honey? Carrie. What if she…” It’s questionable at this point whether her urgent tone is borne out of motherly instinct in an effort to preserve her daughter’s innocence or whether she is driven by pure sexual need to have her husband’s muscle fill her and satiate her immediately.

 

“Shhh… it’s ok.”

 

“Please,” she whimpers. Her body involuntarily moves in answer to his. If she could have found the strength to do anything but be at his mercy in this one moment, she would have just impaled herself on him. Her womanhood clenches in want, trying to grasp the tip of him… to swallow him. Not having him inside her is almost as painful as being filled by him.

 

In a low, erotic tone he boasts, “I can still fuck you this way, baby,” he nudges her teasingly while fighting the urge to push his tip inside her and do to her just what he described, “and if our daughter decides to come bursting through that door,” he bites and kisses her neck until he has marked her, “she won’t know Daddy is deep, so deep inside Marlena,” he finishes with agonising slowness as his hot breath tickles her.

 

“Oh God!” the verbal and physical stimulation is almost her undoing.

 

“Shhhhhhhh,” he whispers as he slowly but surely begins to enter her from behind, stretching her inch by inch, penetrating her with his oozing tip. He feels the slight resistance of her initially unyielding muscle walls as his overpowering frame tries to still her involuntary thrusts against him.

 

His mouth opens and he lets out a grunt, paralysed by her tightness and throbbing from the intense pressure. Sweat beads form on his inflamed skin as his body jerks.

 

She squeezes his sticky, probing fingers which are still intertwined with hers, almost cutting off his circulation. The painful intrusion of his shaft fuels her mewling whimpers and she guides him back up to her clitoris where he can sooth some of the flaring pain deep inside by flicking her again and again.

 

“I need you right here, honey,” she pleads.

 

His pride at being her lover swells as he obliges and helps her strum her clitoris.

 

“Is that better, baby?”

 

“Mmmm.”

 

He doesn’t pull out but instead keeps bucking against her trying to force himself deeper into her tight canal with short, swift thrusts, all the while creating the most agonising yet exquisite pressure between them as he holds her completely still. Spooning her from behind limits his agility, adding fuel to his fire and making him work harder.

 

The only sounds that fill the room now are her hushed whimpers, his urgent panting and the squishing of their combined sex; the suction as she draws him in over and over again.

 

He thinks he might explode and tear her apart as she bears down on him.

 

She drapes her arm around his neck behind her and leans her head back for him to take her mouth in a slow, wet, carnal kiss. His stubble roughly grazes her face while their tongues collide frantically and provide a deliciously silky smooth contrast as they lap at each other in time with their undulating bodies.

 

The otherwise shrill sounds she makes are muffled by his tongue filling her mouth. They spur him on and with one last forceful thrust he orgasms without warning shooting his hot, milky cum inside her purposefully.

 

“Oh God, Doc! Baby. Baby. Uhhhhhhh!” He mumbles unintelligibly into her mouth as he ejaculates and jerks against her.

 

Marlena teeters over the edge still, struggling to let go after the multiple orgasms he has given her already in the last few hours.

 

“I can’t…”

 

“I’m here,” he exhales, spent, but mustering more strength to thrust once again, “do it. Come for me.”

 

He thrusts long, hard and relentlessly inside her until he feels her go rigid in his arms.

 

“Uuunnngghhhhh!” His lip throbs as she bites down on him.

 

A gush of liquid warmth flows around his cock, mingling with his own juices as she cries out in his mouth. His nostrils flare at the sound she emits.

 

Their sweat soaked bodies heave and shudder spasmodically until they gradually relax and sag against each other. Her legs tremble against his from the sheer force of her orgasm.

 

Roman leans his forehead against the side of her face, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth trying to steady his frantic heartbeat.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

There are no words to describe how she makes him feel. All he knows is that loving her and making love to her is the most incredible feeling.

 

“For what?” she asks perplexed.

 

“I said I wanted to fuck you. I got carried away,” he mentally castigates himself for his poor choice of words. He never meant to demean her or cheapen what they were trying to accomplish.

 

Lifting their intertwined fingers from between her legs, she brings the back of his hand up to her lips placing a delicate open mouthed kiss there, on the knuckle, close to his wedding band. As she inhales, the concentrated, musky scent of their sex fills her nostrils alerting her senses yet again. God, she adores him.

 

His stomach flip-flops at her sweet gesture and he instinctively draws her closer.

 

Her voice is like a gentle vibration coursing through his body, “this may come as quite a shock to you Mr. Brady, but it is okay to want to fuck your wife sometimes.” She adds cheekily, “wanna know what is even more scandalous?” She brushes her lips against his, slipping her tongue between his lips ever so slightly. “She loves it when you do…” She enjoys teasing him like this. He can see the flicker of amusement in her eyes.

 

Not to be outdone, Roman responds, feigning innocence, “when I do what?”

 

“When you fuck. me.,” she punctuates deliberately.

 

He sucks in a breath. “I’ll try to remember that for next time,” he grins boyishly kissing her all over. She giggles, stretching her aching limbs against him.

 

Thinking she might be uncomfortable, he attempts to pull out.

 

“No. Nuh uh.” She runs her hand over his hip and behind him, placing it firmly on his behind, silently entreating him to stay sheathed within her. She still pulsates rhythmically around him, her sex having yet to recover from his latest assault.

 

She hums contentedly, “stay inside me for a while longer?”

 

They lay there in companionable silence while his hand caresses her skin lightly. He notices how she glows of sex. His sex. Their sex.

 

The sun filters through more brightly now and Marlena’s eyes begin to droop lazily from the relaxing feel of his fingertips. As Roman makes the slightest movement to kiss her tenderly, she feels him tug at her inner walls.

 

“I love the way you feel inside me,” she murmurs shyly, with a vulnerability only such an intense act of love can inspire.

 

She snuggles into him.

 

He smiles. He loves her intimate confessions. Only his ears are privy to them. Only he shares this part of her.

 

“And I love you, sweetheart.”

 

He tightens his hold on her, comforting her and making her feel secure.

 

Marlena’s hand falls down to cover her stomach as she lies back against the pillows.

 

“Oh Roman, how did those dreams die?”

The cool and calm waters always gave him a sense of peace. Roman looks out over Pier-29 into the darkness and hopes it will provide him with the answers he needs. The last time he was down here he didn’t know what he was looking for exactly. He was drawn to the pier by some inexplicable force and as he turned to leave he found his wife; his lover; his best friend. When he touched her again for the first time in five years and their lips met in a desperate kiss he realised that he had found exactly what he was subconsciously searching for all these years. He must admit to himself now that he has her back and is reminded of what they once had, that all this time while he was happy with Isabella there was still something missing. He always knew that a life without Marlena was a life half lived but Isabella didn’t let him dwell on that. Now he is reminded of the euphoria he only ever experienced when Marlena was in his arms and his restless soul, for a brief moment in time, was finally in its element.

 

That is until reality, harsh as she is, intruded upon their moment, reminding them that it is no longer 1986; that there is now another woman in the picture… in Roman’s heart.

 

His heart breaks as she stands before him in the dingy hotel room him giving him her approval, “she’s lovely, Roman,” a slight quiver in her voice. She is trying so hard to be understanding. Her knuckles are white as she clutches the newspaper announcing his engagement. All he can do is apologise and pull her into a crushing embrace while anguished sobs wrack her body.

 

His remorse doesn’t change a thing. He is hurting both women with his indecision, he knows that much. He just thought that if he focused on finding who took Marlena away from him for five long years, he could stall and face none of the choices he must inevitably make. Both women now at least have hope. Don’t they?

 

“Hey buddy,” the deep, rich voice of his best friend is unmistakable and unwavering… not unlike his support throughout the years.

 

Abe pats Roman on the shoulder companionably as he comes to stand beside him, looking out at the water.

 

“Hi Abe,” Roman smiles, half-hearted as it is.

 

“It’s a bit cold to be out here don’t you think?” Abe offers trying to strike up a conversation. On second thought, he decides that questioning Roman’s wisdom in coming here isn’t going to get him anywhere. But Roman barely acknowledges the statement.

 

“Did you need me for something, Abe?” He doesn’t mean to be short with him. The truth is, however, he has been growing weary of everybody’s concern and the pity he sees in their eyes. “Did something happen after I left the station?”

 

“No.  The night has been quite uneventful, actually; five armed robberies, four unlawful assaults, three DUIs, two stabbings on Fifth… and a partridge in a pear tree,” Abe adds sardonically. “Speaking of which, how are you doing?”

 

Finally, this elicits a wry chuckle from Roman. “I am alright, Abe,” Roman answers unconvincingly as he rams his hands nervously in his coat pockets. He closes his eyes to avoid Abe’s piercing gaze and feels the biting wind sting his cheeks.

 

“You don’t look or sound alright, Roman,” his voice is etched with concern and his brow furrows. “What is going on with you?”

 

“Really, I am fine, partner. Just got a lot going on at work, you know how it is.”

 

“Of course you are fine. It’s written in your five o’clock shadow and this homeless motif you’ve got goin’ on.” Abe laughs, the merry sound falling flat as he shoves Roman slightly, attempting to pull him out of this funk.  “In all the years I have known you, Roman, as much as you love your work only one person has ever had such a profound effect on you.”

 

Marlena.

 

Abe notices the slight twitch in Roman’s cheek. But the man remains still, looking out towards the water, eyes unseeing.

 

Patience was never one of Abe’s virtues, and if he is honest, it is wearing thin in the face of Roman’s unresponsive attitude.

 

“So how is Marlena doing? Is she “fine” too?” Abe asks, using his own words against him.

 

Roman doesn’t take the bait.

 

“She must be thrilled to know that there is a very real possibility she could lose you all over again, if she hasn’t already,” he continues relentlessly.

 

Roman grits his teeth and shifts uneasily.

 

Abe knows he is getting to him and perhaps even hurting him. It’s tough love. He gets right up in Roman’s face and goads him further.

 

“And Isabella must be on cloud nine with the return of your presumed dead wife. Tell me, do you intend to commit bigamy? That would be the perfect solut…” He doesn’t get to finish.

 

“STOP IT, ABE! Just STOP!” Roman snaps. Finally.

 

He turns for the first time to look at Abe since he arrived. There is a fire and fury in his eyes, unlike the usual detachment that resides there.

 

Abe is pleased. He finally has Roman’s undivided attention and he needs to push no more. Roman will open up, Abe will just have to wait patiently.

 

After a few moments of silence there it is.

 

“I loved her so much, Abe. So much that it physically hurt sometimes,” his voice trails off in a whisper and the familiar tightness returns to his chest.  He swallows past the lump in his throat and continues, voice hoarse with emotion, “when she was taken from me, I felt like I couldn’t go on any longer. If it weren’t for the kids…” As the memory of the pain of that time washes over him, he closes his eyes willing for it to subside.

 

He doesn’t have to finish off that sentence, Abe knows all too well how it concludes. He also senses how ashamed Roman is by his own confession.

 

It is when Roman’s lips curve to form a cheeky smile, that Abe becomes a little confused.

 

“We couldn’t get enough of each other you know,” he speaks wistfully.

 

Abe can’t help but smile too at the memory of them. He does know.

 

“I just wanted to wake up with her every day for the rest of my life. Even with a missing past, she made me feel like a complete, whole person.” His words are laced with such agony; the magnitude of his loss resonates through them.

 

“And now?” Abe prompts, treading carefully.

 

Roman raises his head, closes his eyes and inhales sharply, filling his lungs with the crisp, cool air.

 

“And now, there is Isabella,” he shrugs. There is that flippant tone again.

 

Abe grows frustrated. “I am not talking about Isabella, Roman. How do you *feel* about *Marlena* *now*?”

 

He cannot avoid this forever.

 

“I have buried those feelings, partner. They are in the past and I have moved on,” he answers heatedly.

 

“You have. So tell me Roman, why is it so hard for you to just commit to Isabella? Divorce Marlena,” Abe goads him, knowing better.

 

“Tell her your feelings for her are in the past; that you now love her only as the mother of your children. This is what you are telling me! Divorce her so you can all move on with your lives and get past the pain. Do it for her at least. She doesn’t deserve to be strung along. Let. her. *go*,” Abe implores him fervently.

 

“NO!” Roman bellows, provoked beyond all endurance by Abe’s baiting tone.

 

There it was. It was fierce, it was passionate, it was visceral. It tells Abe, all he needs to know.

 

Roman is shocked by his own reaction and tries to cover, stammering, “I ca–I can’t just hurt her like that, Abe! She wants me back. She wants *us* back.”

 

“And you’re feeling pressured?” Abe ventures.

 

“Yes!”

 

“Isabella wants a life with you too. You can’t please them both, Roman. And what about what *you* want? Somebody is going to be hurt either way. You can’t avoid that.”

 

“I *know*,” he growls. Abe isn’t enlightening him any.

 

“What is it that you are so afraid of, Roman?” Abe has the man pegged.

 

Roman casts his gaze down toward the worn planks of the pier. Where to even start?

 

“When I saw her for the first time in that hospital room, my heart stopped.”

 

He looks up and Abe notices Roman’s eyes are livened by the memory. Then a huge grin forms, “I knew nothing about my past, nothing about myself except that I had a very special feeling for her. She gave me a life, an identity. I was nothing before I met her and being Roman Brady didn’t mean a God Damn thing without her. I was just as lost as I was when I didn’t know my name. I could have found out that I was Stefano and I would have loved her and needed her all the same. It was the best feeling to know that she needed me and loved me just as much, my true identity be damned.”

 

“She still does,” Abe interjects.

 

Roman’s eyes grow clouded and dark; almost vacant. He is in his own little world.

 

“Then that plane went down, and all I could think was take me with you; I want to go with you. I felt dead inside knowing that I would never hear her laugh, I would never get to hold her again; And those eyes… they have haunted my wake ever since.”

 

He turns to Abe in a sudden fit of anger. He needs someone to blame.

 

“Do you have any idea what it is like to have that ripped away from you??? I can’t FEEL that kind of pain again!” His voice is hoarse with emotion; his jaw tight.

 

Abe softens and his warm chocolate brown eyes fill with compassion for his best friend.

 

“Look Roman, I can’t guarantee you forever with Marlena, but isn’t it better to have loved someone that way and to have experienced it than to settle for less just to play it safe and not get hurt?” Getting no answer, Abe presses on. “You can’t have it both ways, Roman. When you love someone that much, and experience such deep feelings for them, feelings that make you soar, you can’t expect that the hurt won’t bring you crashing down.”

 

Roman fingers the tiny gold band he has in his pocket as he contemplates Abe’s words. When he had a choice, he couldn’t live without her that much was true. He would have given anything to spend one more day with her. Now, here she is and he is being given that second chance. Why is this so hard? Why did any of this have to happen?

 

“What are you thinking, Roman?”

 

Roman’s derisive laughter echoes along the pier and Abe regards his friend dubiously.

 

Roman has finally snapped, he thinks to himself.

 

“You want to know what I am thinking?” Roman starts in a confrontational tone. He continues without waiting for an answer from Abe. “If I had whoever did this to Marlena, to *us*, in front of me, I would kill them!” Roman’s eyes flicker menacingly in the moonlight as he grits his teeth.

 

Abe knows it’s true. Roman’s love for Marlena has always been extremely powerful. It knows no bounds. It has the ability to make him the best person he can be and throw him into the heart of darkness all at once.

 

Roman walks to the bench and plops himself down on the cold, hard wood, resting his tired, heavy head in his hands. Abe considers how this ordeal has aged the man considerably in a few short weeks.

 

“God only knows what they put her through.” His voice is thick with anguish.

 

Abe takes a seat next to Roman’s hunched form. Still resting his elbows on his knees, Roman turns his head to the side, worriedly looks up at the man who used to be his partner and begins to confide in him. “She wakes up in the morning and doesn’t remember that she has been dreaming all night.” He corrects himself, “they’re not dreams. They are hideous nightmares that leave her terrified.”

 

“And you haven’t told her about these episodes?” Abe can barely conceal his shock.

 

“No.” Roman sighs heavily and it is clear to Abe that his friend is uneasy with his own decision to keep this from Marlena.

 

“I try to get her to tell me what she is seeing, what she is going through in the moment but the few times this has occurred she is always out of reach… battling the demons of her missing years alone. But she is not alone, Abe. I am right there with her, living the terror through her haunted cries…”

 

“When was the last time?” Abe asks worriedly.

 

“This morning, at around 3:00am. I was so tired by the time I was able to settle Marlena down, I slept in and almost blew my cover. I’ve have been leaving home before she wakes up,” he admits sheepishly. Avoiding her and the decision I have to make, is the unspoken truth.

 

“… But again, before I left for work, it was if nothing had happened; she mentioned nothing. She doesn’t recall the shivering, the cold sweat; the screaming. I held her thrashing body in my arms all night until I was sure that she had fallen into a peaceful sleep. She has no idea of the trauma she is relives from night to night.”

 

“She is suppressing everything.” Abe states the obvious. “Marlena is a strong woman. Much stronger than you give her credit for. She can handle this. She needs to know. Besides, it is the only way you might start getting some answers about the last five years.”

 

“Protecting her from this is the only thing I have control over,” he admits sadly.

 

Abe shatters that illusion. “If you can be honest with yourself, you don’t even have that, Roman. You know that from your own experience.” He knows his friend is right. It is only a matter of time before these barbed memories pierce the thin layer shielding her subconscious and seep into reality.  “There is however, one thing you *do* have control over,” Abe continues.

 

“Lucky me, I sure do,” Roman adds bitterly. “I get to choose whose heart I want to stomp all over. In fact, let’s settle this right now shall we?” Abe watches on, perplexed, as Roman agitatedly pulls his wallet out of his pocket. “Heads or tails?” he laughs sardonically as he shoves the quarter in Abe’s face. “No, really! Heads, Marlena. Tails, Isabella. It’s that easy. Isn’t it?”

 

Abe schools his features to convey his irritation. He doesn’t appreciate Roman’s derisive tone. When Roman realises Abe is refusing to play the game, he tetchily pitches the coin into the ocean and listens as it plops beneath the surface. The dull sound only serves to further dampen his spirits.

 

“I know it’s not an easy situation, buddy.”

 

“I resent it. I resent the fact that she was taken from us, Abe. I resent the fact that we had to be separated at all. I resent myself for moving on without her. I resent the fact that she has lost so much time with me and the kids. I resent the passage of time; time we cannot get back. I hate the fact that both Marlena and Isabella are being hurt by my inability to make a decision and I resent the choice I have to make and the position I have been put in,” he finishes vehemently.

 

“Do you resent Marlena?” Abe asks bluntly.

 

Roman looks at him incredulously.

 

“None of this is her fault, Abe. None of it!” He makes a swift gesture with his hand slicing the air to give his words import. “When she came back to me on the pier that foggy night I was the happiest man in the world…” His voice trails off.

 

“But?”

 

“It is not that simple. I have to consider Isabella. We have built a life together, I love her, we were getting married,” he answers defensively.

 

Abe cuts him off, “Roman, it seems to me that in your heart there is only one choice and you have made it, even if you aren’t ready to admit it. Your guilt and your fear prevent you from seeing that. Prolonging it isn’t going to make it any easier and it certainly isn’t going to make the hurt any less. You have to do what is ultimately going to make you happy or this all would have been for nothing – you will all wind up miserable. Don’t punish yourself for what your heart truly desires. And don’t deny yourself. You will only end up punishing Marlena too.”

 

And with that Abe turns on his heel and leaves his friend on the pier to mull things over.

 

As he sits on the edge of the pier with his legs dangling over the edge, Roman pulls the gold ring out of his pocket. Holding it up, he tilts it slightly to read the engraving: forever yours 22.08.86. The day she put this on his finger he felt such an overwhelming sense of pride and joy… and love. So much love, he thought his heart would burst. He was hers, for all eternity. He leans back against the rail watching the gold band as it softly glistens in the moonlight.

It is eleven o’clock by the time Roman gets home. The house is shrouded in darkness – a sure sign that everybody is in bed. The kids are no doubt sleeping by now. Marlena? Probably not. He has failed her yet again. Is she waiting up for him, hoping he will keep his promise? It’s just one more broken in a sea of promises. He sighs heavily pulling his keys out of his pocket. Unlocking the front door and pushing it slightly ajar, he is met with a gush of warm air as he steps inside…

She surrounds him. That is what he feels when he walks inside; her commanding presence. She occupies a room even after she has long left it. Her perfume lingers, weaving a spell around him, alerting his senses; wafting past his ears whispering something indefinable; Marlena. God damn it.

Their precious wine goblets, one of the last remaining symbols of their love that he had to displace when Isabella moved in, stand tall again alongside each other on the English mahogany chest of drawers by the stairs. In the moonlight, the fine crystal twinkles at him, seemingly with pride. He wonders if Marlena forgot them there on her way upstairs; probably when she finally gave up on him ever coming home to her tonight? They weren’t out for public display anymore. He had pulled them out of the drawer for her benefit the night he brought her home, to prove to her that he hadn’t discarded her, their life, their love…

He watches her as her eyes sweep over the mantle and travel the planes of all the new furniture in search for the one thing she hopes has never changed. When she comes up empty she turns,  spirit deflated, only to find the man that she loves more than life itself, standing there holding them like they are his most prized possessions.

Roman heaves another sigh and turns towards the living area. He is grateful for the night shadows that accompany him in his solitude. They don’t speak. They don’t pass judgement. They just listen and strangely, he finds comfort in their ominous presence. In his gloom they make the couch look so inviting. He just wants to lay his tired body there. He takes his jacket off and removes his gun and holster before stretching his arms and cracking his stiff neck. Laying back with his head propped on his arms, Roman stares at the ceiling for a while. His mind races a mile per minute and suddenly, he regrets leaving the pier and coming home where every little thing lately reminds him of her…

She used to fall asleep here you know? On the couch. She would wait up for him when he was on  late night stake-outs but she could never keep her eyes open long enough to see him walk through that door safely. Sleep would claim her, relentlessly pulling her into its darkened depths until her fight was gone; a truly valiant effort, night after night especially when faced with the prospect of losing him to a nameless foe. Would it be a stray bullet to the chest? A drug addict desperately wanting his fix? Her mind would go to all sorts of places.

Roman always knew before walking through the front door, he’d find her there without fail. It had been that way since he came back into her life; since the very first night they spent apart upon his return to the Force. It was an unexpected surprise; one that made the love he felt for her thump achingly in his chest; to see her need and love for him so honestly, so purely and innocently displayed. He didn’t remember, but learnt very quickly, that heir bed was no option unless she knew he was safe and beside her. And after the gruelling and often life-threatening situations he would face during these operations, there was nothing more comforting than the thought of opening his front door to be greeted by his wife’s sleeping form. And a year later, there was nothing more devastating than knowing she would never wait for him there again.

The picture before him was always the same – exactly how he’d anticipate it on the long drive home; in a precarious balancing act, a book would lay open on Marlena’s chest, rising and falling with her every breath. Her frameless reading glasses would often still be perched on the bridge of her perfect nose.  Occasionally, the book would be substituted for her arms and there’d be a half eaten bowl of parmesan popcorn next to her as the flicker of the TV illuminated her body. Either way, she was a sheer unadulterated vision of femininity. The blanket barely covering her would create tantalising glimpses of honey skin, the curve of a breast cupped in black lace or a long shapely leg; her slightly parted lips, so pink and tender, begged to be touched.

Roman would kneel down by her for a few minutes, watching her, admiring her, smoothing his hands over her curves reverently. His touch had the same stirring effect on her body even in her semi conscious state and its reaction to his ministrations fascinated him. Bringing his face within inches of her own and never taking his piercing blue eyes off her, he’d trace his thumb and then his own lips across hers; wetting her, feeling her body tremble in response, listening intently for the soft sighs she would make.

Sometimes he’d coax her awake with his tongue, using it to glide across and slip past her perfectly smooth teeth inveigling her tongue to mate with his.

Sometimes his curious and impatient hand would disappear beneath the twisted blanket and slip cunningly inside her panties…

Her spine stiffens and her body shifts awkwardly on the couch.

“Roman?” she asks slightly alarmed and dazed, her voice somnolent.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s me, baby. I’m home,” he croons.

The touch of his hand is unmistakable as he fondles her. She knows that touch down to the fine line of its unique fingerprint.

“What time is it??” she asks, still disoriented.

Without a word he steels a rigid finger down between her lips, and is met with raw but natural resistance as he attempts to negotiate the folds of the pink flesh there.

“Honey?” she mumbles, “Not now. I’m not…” Wet. Ready.

Her sex has yet to be aroused and the juddering movement of his finger causes her slight discomfort.  She stirs and he feels the familiar sinuous tightening of her thigh muscles as they constrict around his wrist in idle protest.

“I’ll make you…” Wet. Ready for him. “Open your legs,” the timbre of his voice is as gentle as his probing finger. As he penetrates her fog, and she begins to feel safe and loved her limbs slacken around him, bending up at the knees and falling slightly akimbo to allow him the purchase he seeks; granting him permission. And there, in their living room, on their couch and even in her compromised state of awareness he makes her. She comes; Quietly but readily in the palm of his hand as it forms a tight cocoon around her.

Sometimes however, things would lead to muted, swift but heated impromptu fucking. Thoughts of her throughout the day would arouse him to the point of complete and utter frustration. What is she doing? What is she wearing? Is she thinking about me too?

She senses his mood the moment he wakes her. It’s in his burning touch; in his solemn gaze. He doesn’t say a word but the need wracking his hard, wired body speaks to her. He craves her; her body. Before she knows it, he has her on her knees straddling him and hovering above his thighs while he paws at her buttocks, zealously kneading and spreading her cheeks through the thin fabric of her negligee, purposefully and selfishly working her so that she promptly lubricates for his imminent incursion into her depths. She looks down at him from her elevated vantage point, kneeling atop him, and threads her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. His blue eyes volley back and forth shadowed beneath thick dark lashes, scrutinising her with such intensity; his full lips form a natural pout.

He loves. Her. Eternally. Possessively.

Her golden mane frames her beautiful serene face as her lips curl up in the dark; she is smiling at him; a smile that speaks of how intimately aware she is of him. Roman is convinced that no sexier creature exists. He leans in towards her, bringing his face to bury against her torso just below the curve of her breasts. He swears he can hear her heart beating. She is the tranquil force that smothers the restless, raging amnesiac inside of him. He would die if it were ever the other way around; if somehow, his need for her crushed her.

Marlena’s negligee creeps up slightly to reveal the round curve of her naked bottom as Roman’s strong protective hands spider her back to hold her near, to save her from himself. It’s the calm before the storm; his body hums beneath her. She feels his hot breath fanning her through the wispy material that obstructs the meeting of his lips with her heated flesh…

Marlena moves back slightly, her eyes remain locked on his as she reaches down to undo his jeans, fumbling a little with the clasp. His hands knead the tops of her exposed thighs warming them while she gingerly reveals his penis, bringing it up over the waistband of his briefs, tucking the elastic beneath his scrotum. He is more than ready; has been since this morning. His member pulsates hotly in her hand as it stands to attention and he jerks noticeably from her direct application of pressure. Then, with a light scraping of her nails on the underside she moves her mouth across his, taking his bottom lip loosely between her own and tugging at it.

“You should have called me, baby.” Her voice is husky from slumber and it shatters his resolve as she incites him, “you want to put it inside, don’t you?”

Her words are like red to a raging bull and within seconds, she feels his compelling grasp around her slim waist as he impales her on what feels like a splintering, scorching rod of pure, ribbed, unyielding muscle. He pins her down and her raw cry threatens to tear her vocal chords and sear her throat just before the sound dies abruptly. It feels as if she has swallowed a blade and she swears she can taste the blood. And indeed she can. The rich, coppery substance seeps from Roman’s now split lower lip as she suckles on it frantically for relief.

“You haunt me,” he grunts into her mouth, “*this*…” he drives his point home to the hilt a second time.

“Uh!”

“… haunts me.” He needs her to understand what she does to him, to acknowledge as he proves it to her.

“I know… Hhhhhhh,” she exhales sharply and almost chokes on what little oxygen hasn’t been knocked from her lungs. She throws her head back, full heavy breasts thrust forward, body gracefully bowing against him, her mouth agape – she can’t breathe as his gristle cleaves the soft petals between her thighs slamming her a third time, hushing screaming need. Her nails have found purchase beneath his shirt, stinging him as they score his salty flesh, wanting him to feel the sweet agony she is in as she struggles to concentrate only on him and bring him to the climax and completion he desperately seeks.

He grabs her face and mashes his mouth against hers sucking on her tongue with vacuum-like intensity. He tastes of spearmint gum. As he thrusts up into her a fourth and last time, she feels his penis swell inside her and knows from his grunting… it’s over. He is done. In four angry, pelvic bone-splintering thrusts and in less than a minute, he’s done. She doesn’t come with him.

Sometimes, although their intentions were good they would not make it past the stairs. One particular night, unbeknownst to her, he had almost been shot in the line of duty. Not wanting to frighten her, he kept it to himself until he was forced to tell her months later when a rookie cop accidentally let it slip during a visit to the station. The smell of him on her skin, the smarting of her inner thighs, the fact that she laid herself open and vulnerable to him moments earlier on his desk amidst a bustling cop shop no less, while he kept something that important from her, didn’t help matters either. She felt betrayed and she was furious, and it only further justified in her mind, her fear for his safety.

It all made sense when Marlena would later recall the urgency with which he pushed her up against the wall on their way up the stairs that night and the desperation in his voice as he compelled her to submit to him then and there…

She takes his hand and leads him up the stairs. They have gotten as far as the first landing when he slams her against the wall, causing her to scream with fright and then laugh nervously as her alarm wears off.

“Not here, baby. Take me to our room,” she requests between kisses.

His ravenous eyes are darkened with want and his expression grave.

“Honey?” she questions, a little shaken and startled by his serious demeanour as she caresses his cheek. “Letís go to bed, hmm?”

His response is to smash his hot mouth against hers and grab fistfuls of her hair to keep her in place.

She moans deep in her throat; their tongues viciously lashing out at each other as she grips his wrists to steady herself and him. He is so forceful. Her mouth aches.

He brings one hand down to grip her thigh painfully while devouring her and lifts her leg around his waist. They break apart for air, both rocked to the core by the intensity of their kiss. Their eyes meet in an intense gaze. His are black with desire and hers are amber pools of fire.

Their cheeks are flushed, lips swollen and bruised as sharp, ragged breaths escape them.

Watching her, always watching her, he steps back slightly, bringing her raised leg with him and her lower body away from the wall while her head and upper back lean against it.

The thin strap of her silky negligee has fallen down her arm to reveal a supple breast, nipple dark and hard as rock. His grip on her leg slackens as he is transfixed by the wanton seductress in his arms; tousled hair, flushed cheeks, heaving bare chest.

She stares at him with her eyes half lidded and runs her fingernails lazily up and down his muscular torso, pushing his open shirt up and over his shoulders. Her breathing has not yet settled. His is becoming more and more erratic as she excites him with her ministrations.

He drops his pants and boxers around his ankles not bothering to step out of them, and hikes her leg further up his side while grinding into her. The steady rush of blood to his engorged penis leaves him feeling light headed.

He is solid sinew against her; just the feel of him through her damp lacy panties makes her want to come.

“Push them aside, honey,” she pleads with him.

“Not yet.” As much as he wants to be inside her he cannot forego foreplay.

She obliges and removes her arms from the straps of her negligee, sensuously stretching them above her head; confident in her sexuality.

He stares at her with amazement, his gaze slowly falling to her breasts. She has placed his children at the tip of each mound as a mother; She has allowed him to feast on them as his lover. He cups them, appreciating their fullness, and squeezing hard. “You’re such a contradiction, you know that?” he whispers hotly.

Closing her eyes, she arches her neck and moans as he continues to massage them, manipulating them like putty in his hands.

“It drives me crazy.” His mouth descends upon one and clamps down ruthlessly on the nipple teasing it with his tongue.

“Oh, oh Roman,” she cries in agony biting down on her lower lip.

He continues to knead the other soft, pliant mound steadily with his palm.

“Mmmmmphhh,” he moans against her and she rakes her hands through his hair, tugging at it, urging him to continue.

Suddenly his mouth is gone, leaving her nipple throbbing and sore. She steadies herself with both hands on the banister behind her. He runs his hands down her sides and spans her ribcage, heading further south as he kisses, licks and sucks at her collarbone and neck, marking her there.

Squeezing her ass and running his rough hand under her right thigh, he brings it up to join the other leg around his waist. He reaches between her trembling legs and wraps his hand around the crotch of her panties.

“Mmmm, so wet.”

She shifts all her weight onto her arms, head arched back while clutching the banister and then presses herself forward to feel more of his hand against her. His knuckles grazing her sensitive nub, is almost her undoing.

“Uuuuhhh, Roman, ri… right there.”

But he won’t let her get too close.

“Roman, honey, please…”

He yanks his hand down mercilessly and tears the flimsy garment in half.

She shrieks in anticipation.

The next thing she knows she is holding onto him for dear life, her nails leaving red crescent shaped welts as they rake his slick, sweaty back.

White hot pain sears her as he thrusts his aching member inside her with reckless abandon. She arches her body against him and howls for all she is worth.

“Ugggghhhnnnnn, *feel*. *so*. *damn*. *good*, baby,” he grunts as she involuntarily squeezes down on him, milking him.

He punctuates every word with a quick thrust slamming her against the wall each time. The consistent thumping rattles the hung photo frames; Smiling friends and family frozen in time, silently bearing witness.

Each thrust earns him a sob in turn, “uhhhh! Uhhhh! Uhhhh!.”

He silences her heady cries by shoving two fingers in her mouth. She whimpers and sucks at them frantically.

He derives great satisfaction from her cries of release but he has to remind her before he claims her mouth with his own, “shhhhh sweetheart, the babies.”

She is wild and his movements frenetic. He had come home with this raging need to possess her.

“I will never leave you… *Never!*” he avows vehemently – still unnerved by his close encounter earlier tonight.

She tightens her legs around him as he reaches down to fondle her.

“Ohh, ohh, Roman don’t… uuuhhhnnn… don’t ever leave me,” she manages through short gasps.

His hot, pulsating body writhing against hers, makes it hard to breathe. The air around them is musky and stifling and it is becoming harder for her to concentrate on keeping her orgasm at bay. She finally comes hard against him, surrendering to him fully as she cries, completely spent; physically and emotionally.

Roman holds her as she shudders, sobbing through her release. He continues to cleave her, undulating rhythmically as she comes. “Uhhh,  Roman!”

He brings his head down to bury his face between her breasts and she can feel his moist breath come in short spurts as he whispers her name there.

She holds him firmly, placing soft kisses atop his head and running her hands gently over his face. He is holding back, afraid he might hurt her and she can sense his hesitance.

“It’s ok, baby,” she coos, “let go… just let go.”

“Uhhhh, Doc… uhhhhh,” he slowly begins to thrust again, harder and harder, as she encourages him to spill his seed within her.

She feels him expand within her; the friction between them is so exquisite in its brutal intensity. Although her mouth is agape, she can’t find her voice to cry out as he rams himself inside her one last time, calling her name out to the heavens, babies, neighbours, neighbouring cities be damned. His voice is unsteady and raw as he ejaculates, emptying the very essence of himself between her legs. She feels the hot, steady stream of his copious cum shoot through her.

When their movements still he peers up at her adoringly; a look of pure satisfaction is plastered across his face. “I love you,” he murmurs as he reaches up and softly brushes stray, damp tendrils of hair away from her face.

She mouths those three words to him in return as she moves in closer for a kiss. She isn’t ready to lose him just yet. She wants to be held.

Taking her face between his hands he parts her lips with his, nipping at them softly, teasing until his moist tongue slips in and begins languidly mating with hers.

Unhurried, delicate and thorough, their kisses are a more intimate exploration than sex.

Her sweet breath mingles with his. Her eyes flutter closed as she enjoys the sensations he is creating; her entire body tingles from his tongue’s sinuous caress, expelling her viscous, balmy excitement over his shaft in response.

If only he would reach down right now while he still fills her and…”Roman?”

“It’s okay, honey.”

“Ohhh,” she shudders against him.

Too late. She comes again from the sheer pressure of his lips on hers.

She sighs regretfully when he breaks their kiss and he grins loving the effect a simple kiss of his has on her.

Marlena buries her face in his neck and lets out a nervous giggle.

“Here, baby…” He takes the straps of her negligee which lay bunched up around her waist, pulls it up and over her breasts after placing feather light kisses on each one and helps her slip her arms in.

Feeling his shaft completely slacken within her, he carefully slides out and places her unsteady feet on the ground. He fixes himself up, pulling his shirt which never made it off his body, back over his shoulders and tucking his sensitive member back inside his boxers and pants. She waits patiently until he gathers her gently in his arms and takes the rest of the steps to their room one by one as she wraps her arms around his neck securely and lays her head on his chest.

Up there in their room, he helps a sleepy Marlena divest herself of her negligee. When he crawls into bed, he gathers her close so that she lies half on top of him. Instinctively, she drapes her leg over his. She is still damp against his thigh and he can’t help but nestle himself closer still.

With her head on his chest he tangles his fingers in her hair and softly massages her scalp while his other hand kneads her thigh softly.

Roman closes his eyes as Marlena’s breathing becomes steady and he sends up a silent prayer of thanks. He didn’t lose this; not tonight.

Roman awakens with a start; all shaken and sweaty as he sits bolt upright on the couch. The birds are already chirping, signifying the beginning of a brand new day. He had fallen asleep with thoughts of her and it seems she followed him in his dreams. Only they weren’t dreams once upon a time.

He turns to look up at the stairs, just to confirm what he already knows; he is indeed sitting on the couch, in his living room, not making love to his wife up against a wall. He hates this constant state of frustration. A cold shower is what he needs; and perhaps a little self-love to dismantle the tent in his pants. He stands up and heads straight for that cold shower when he is reminded of another time he desperately needed one…

“Care to join me?”

“Ummm, no thanks, you go ahead.” She giggles, slightly embarrassed by his open display of arousal.

It is an indecent proposal to be sure but he doesn’t care. He is aching to make love to her in this little cabin up in the West Virginia mountains.

If only he could stop this constant flow of memories!

He is about to take the stairs two by two when the phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Roman. It’s me.”

It’s the universe reminding him. Fantasising about your wife is a no, no, Roman. His gut drops and his voice softens upon hearing her voice. “Isabella?”

He can’t hide his surprise at her having called. And truth be told, it is a nice surprise. He has missed her. After all, she was a part of his everyday life up until Marlena returned.

“I’ve been worried about you. You haven’t called, you haven’t stopped by.”

He isn’t sure what she wants to hear. Her tone is slightly accusatory.

“I’m sorry about that,” he offers sheepishly. “I, uh, I’ve been kind of busy… at work and everything.”

Everything entails your *wife* no doubt, Isabella surmises.

“Izzy, are you still there?”

He can discern the panic in her voice when she finally speaks, “Roman, I know you so well. Please don’t lie to me. What is really going on? What is happening to us?î”

How do I tell her I have been fantasising about my wife?

“I don’t know! I need time…”

“Time? Away from me?” She begins to cry and he feels awful.

“No! Shhh, IzzyB, please don’t cry. We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

His attempt to console Isabella stops Marlena dead in her tracks. She descends the stairs after the shrill ringing of the telephone woke her up. Roman’s hunched back faces her, his elbows are on his knees and he kneads his forehead tiredly; the tension in his whole body evident. He has the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Marlena stands on the last step listening. She doesn’t mean to eavesdrop but her feet are like lead and she cannot move. She needs to know. He won’t open up to her so perhaps he will when he thinks she is not listening; when he thinks he can’t hurt her.

From Marlena’s vantage point, every word he utters is like a knife in the heart. She grabs the banister to steady herself as his hushed tones reach her.

“I need to see you. How about we go out for lunch and talk?” His voice is laced with so much tenderness. Tenderness Marlena aches for.

“Oh, Roman! I need to see you too! I have missed you so much.”

Isabella is absolutely thrilled and Roman chides himself for his accidental double entendre. What he meant to say was that he needs to talk to her but he can’t find it in himself to correct her. She will probably be devastated enough as it is when he opens up to her over lunch and tells her that Marlena’s return has cast a shadow of uncertainty over their relationship; that he doesn’t know what he wants anymore.  He has decided he would start by being honest with both women. He will have to choose his words wisely if he wants to avoid moments like these.

He needs her and he misses her and I am keeping him from being with her. Marlena is crushed. She brings her hand to her mouth in an attempt to stifle a sob and settles her unsteady frame against the banister. Her eyes sting as they fill to the brim with tears and blur her vision.

Isabella on the other hand is so excited she begins to plan their lunch, telling him she will book a table for two at their favourite restaurant.

“That sounds good to me,” he replies trying for a smile but failing miserably.

“I’ll be there at around 12,” she hopes he can make it then. She can’t wait any longer to see him.

“Ok. Me too,” that is the clincher for Marlena.

She said, I love you. He replied, me too. She is shattered beyond words.

It’s not that she doesn’t expect Roman to not love Isabella. He did ask the woman to marry him. It’s that he can’t tell her the same… because it’s clearly not the way he feels about her anymore.

Roman never says something he does not mean. He doesn’t want to be dishonest with me, she reasons.

In Marlena’s mind this all makes sense. Pursing her lips together to keep from crying and making her presence known, she slowly creeps back upstairs and into her room. She walks to her bedside table dejectedly, opens the draw and pulls out a photo of the two of them that Roman had given her when he first brought her back to her home.

He asks her how they are going to tell the kids that their mommy is back.

“I’ve thought about that some and I have a plan that might work,” she offers.

“Oh please, I am a desperate man,” he half jokes.

“Ok,” she laughs with him, “do you still have a…” she starts in a light conversational tone but then catches herself as she realises what she is about to ask of him.

She hasn’t thought about the possibility that he may not have kept any. Her nervousness gets the better of her as she wrings her hands together and shifts almost imperceptibly from foot to foot, casting her eyes downwards, unable to face him. She doesn’t notice his smile or the way his blue eyes twinkle.

He knows exactly where she is going with this, can sense her insecurity and disappointment and wants more than anything to see her face light up when he tells her.

Mentally preparing herself for the chance that he may not have what she is looking for, her voice becomes a little stronger and her tone detached in case she is rebuffed, “do you still have a– a–  picture of me somewhere around?” Still unable to look him in the eye, she shrugs casually, as if to say it is no big deal if he doesn’t.

They both know better.  It means so much to her.

She is steeling herself from the pain she knows it would cause her to know that he can do away with their memories. So she waits, hoping against all hope that he still treasures their past life together even if he doesn’t want a future with her; that she at least meant that much to him in the past if not now.

He schools his features to form a contemplative expression as though he were taking inventory, “only a couple of hundred,” he answers, his eyes filled with mirth.

And he is rewarded with that beautiful smile.

The photo she now holds in her hand has her piggy-backing him. It is the photo they showed the children to reintroduce her to them. Her arms are wrapped right around him, and his hands hold her legs securely around his waist. They are both beaming with pride and happiness. And love; so much love.

She wants to see him that happy again, even if it means she doesn’t get to be a part of it. She smiles through her tears and runs her finger over their faces. Reaching into the drawer again, she pulls out a note pad and pen, and the only thing she had left of his to hold onto all these years; forever yours, it said. 22.08.86. It might have felt like yesterday for Marlena, but in this moment she is hit with the harshness of Roman’s reality; it is truly a lifetime ago.

Sami and Eric come bounding down the stairs excitedly, making a beeline straight for the kitchen.

“I bet I can beat you to the door, Eric!!!”

Sami yells over her shoulder, looking back to see if her brother is gaining on her. She squeals as he makes an attempt to grab her by the sweater and pull her back. But she is too quick for him. Dodging his outstretched arm, she pushes past the swing door into the kitchen and runs smack-dab into Roman who is making their breakfast.

“HEEEEY, watch out!” Roman cautions.

But it is too late.

Eric flings the door open mere seconds later, to what could aptly be described as an explosion… of flour. He closes his eyes as the white dust cloud catches him square in the face. The fine particles tickling his throat trigger a series of coughs from Eric, effectively clearing his stuffy airways.

When the mist settles, he is greeted with a very proud and triumphant Samantha Gene Brady and a ghostly white Roman Augustus Brady who stands there stunned, the flour bowl still in his hands; its contents everywhere but inside the bowl.

Roman spits the flour from his mouth as he cringes with distaste.

“That does it!” he warns.

Eric and Sami know that mock-angry tone. He gives chase as the children bolt straight out of the kitchen and into the living room, dodging the furniture while laughing in between screaming.

“Run, Eric, run!!”

Roman grabs Sami from behind and lifts her into the air flipping her over his shoulder as if she were as light as a feather, “youíre both gonna get it now!”

Eric runs to his sister’s aid, wrapping himself around Roman’s leg to fend him off and falls right into his trap. Roman now wears the same triumphant smile Sami had on earlier as he plops both her and Eric on the couch and stares them down, preparing to tickle them senseless.

He truly is amazed by his children’s resilience. They seem to be coping with their mother’s return better than he is, anyway. Sure, it was strange and difficult for them at first, especially having to adjust to not having Isabella around; she loves them and cares for them and they feel the same way about her. They cannot just switch those feelings off. And he and the children know very well that Marlena does not expect them to, nor does she want them to. She has reassured them that her return does not mean they have to let Isabella go. He believes her when she expressed how grateful she is to the other woman for being there for her children and for him when she couldn’t be. But Roman also knows that appreciation has its bounds and that it can only ease so much of Marlena’s torment even if she does not admit it. He can only imagine how much she wants her babies to run to her when they are hurt and need someone; how much she wants to be the one to take their pain away. And indeed Roman knows her better than she knows herself. She wants her family back. He can tell how desperately she wants to be their mommy; and his everything.

Roman couldn’t help but notice how excluded Marlena felt on his birthday when the kids presented him with the kite…

“Isabella helped us pick it out, daddy!” Sami and Eric explain with enthusiasm.

“Yeah, dad, we picked it so that the four of us could fly it at the park.”

He is touched by their thoughtfulness, to say the least. But there it is; an innocent reference to their life without Marlena; to a life with someone else. Then there is the gift Isabella sent him; a photo of what is supposed to be their future family.

“Can we hang the picture up now?” Sami asks, oblivious to the tension around her.

Roman turns to survey the damage and his heart sinks with what he sees.

Marlena sits behind him on the back of the couch trying desperately to appear unaffected, valiantly fighting her emotions with a half-hearted smile. He can’t enjoy this gift; not if it causes her that much pain.

“Maybe later, okay?”

Both of the children are very disappointed as Roman silently contemplates the gifts.

Marlena sees what this is doing to all three of them and for their benefit, she pipes up.

“You know what? I think that is an awfully good idea, to hang it up now! Where would you like it?”

Both Sami and Eric beam as Roman looks up at her in awe of her strength and selflessness.

Marlena has told him so many times that she understands and he knows that she means it. But he also knows that deep down in her heart while she doesnít blame them for their feelings, being the odd man out is tearing her apart.

As the weeks pass, however, Roman can see the children growing closer to their mother. While it has not been an easy transition and not without awkward moments, the bond that Marlena has shared with the twins from their birth is strengthening. Having her here, it feels comfortable. It feels right. It feels familiar. He knows now that nothing can compare to being held during a thunderstorm or sung to sleep at night by the woman whom he kept very much alive through photographs and stories.

There is one story in particular that they would love to hear over and over. It involves a tickle monster and chocolate and vanilla cake. Roman had a captivated audience of two at bedtime, when he told them how they helped him and Carrie bake Marlena’s favourite cake to surprise her.

“And was Mommy really surprised, Daddy?” Sami asks hopefully.

“Yeah, was she Dad?” Eric is just as excited, his eyes wide with anticipation.

“She sure was, kiddo.”

He ruffles Eric’s blonde hair, “she was so proud of you guys!”

He is rewarded with two identical toothy grins.

He continues telling them how they all turned the tables on an unsuspecting Marlena, chasing her until…

“I caught her arm, pulled her on the couch and with you, Eric, in my arms, we tickled her and tickled her until she could not breathe, she was laughing so hard.”

The way he describes it, they can almost hear her laughter and the delightful sounds of a happy family.

They would love to watch Roman’s expressions as he talked about her. His grey-blue eyes would form a light sheen making them sparkle in the soft glow of the lamp light and his mouth would curve into a contented smile.

Through his memories the blonde, hazel-eyed beauty with a heart of gold would come to life; so too, would he.  This is the side of their father they cherished; a side of him only she could inspire. The feelings he stirred within were warm and inviting and a sense of peace would wash over the three of them as they lay on the bed beneath the cosy covers listening to him relive his memories of her.

Their imaginations would take them to that wonderful place where their mother was still alive; it was a very happy place to be and they felt safer than they ever had. Other children would hear of Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf, or Cinderellas and Sleeping Beauties. Roman however, was fortunate enough to have had his very own princess once upon a time; his own fairytale. And this was the magic he would impart on his children. He owed her that much.

Roman wanted them to know her and to feel just how much she loved them in the time she was allowed to grace the earth. She has been a part of their most vivid dreams and while they met her with a little trepidation when he first brought her home, she was no stranger to them.

“Daddy told us a lot about you,” Eric offers as a matter of fact.

“He did?” Marlena asks filled with wonderment, unable to tear her eyes away from Roman.

“He said you were really nice and really pretty,” Sami adds.

Roman closes his eyes, overwhelmed by Sami’s innocence and honesty. Your mother is still so breathtakingly beautiful, he thinks.

Marlena is so touched by her children’s admissions and so grateful to Roman for keeping her memory alive, she smiles at him through her tears.

He tries to hide his embarrassment from her, averting his eyes shyly.

Sensing his discomfort, Marlena turns to Sami a slight quiver in her voice, “you know what I think? I think that you’re the one who’s *really pretty*. I thought that when I saw you in the park and I gave you back your ball. And I thought that again when I helped you tie your shoe. I thought that you were God’s prettiest angel…” she tries hard to keep the tears at bay, “and I wondered what it might be like to have a hug from you.” Possibly? Maybe?

Roman visibly tenses up, unsure of where Marlena is heading with this. It can turn out to be a real disaster for both her and Sami; A major set-back before they have even begun. And yet he can’t help the tiny spark of hope that is ignited within him. Possibly? Maybe?

This is it. If Sami were to deny her right now, it would devastate Marlena and the request alone could distress Sami. But what if?

Roman raises an eyebrow, surprise etched all over his face as he feels Sami’s weight on his leg, ease.

Marlena’s heart thumps forcefully against her ribcage as she sees Sami move from Roman’s lap and take the smallest hesitant step towards her. She was prepared for rejection but was hoping…

And then it happens.

Sami falls into her mother’s open arms, the fierce longing in her embrace knocking the wind out of Marlena and causing her to inhale sharply. She can barely breathe. Marlena is so overcome with emotion when she feels her daughter’s little hands clutching her body, that she closes her eyes and buries her face in Sami’s soft hair to stifle a heartrending sob. And there in her baby’s sun-kissed locks she quietly weeps for the time she has lost.

Finally, her eyes meet Roman’s and she shakes her head “no”. No, she canít handle this overwhelming emotion; she feels as though her heart might burst.

“Yeah,” she manages in a small voice suffused with anguish, “I thought it would feel pretty good. You’re a very good hugger.”

She thought she would never be able to hold her babies like this again.

Marlena kisses Sami’s hair as she whispers, “thank you very much.”

She isn’t entirely sure who she is thanking for this miracle; Sami or divine intervention. It is with no little regret that she loosens her grip on Sami as she feels her begin to stir. But it is more than she could have ever hoped for. Sami is warming up to her. It is a start.

Marlena turns her attention to Eric who is still firmly entrenched in Roman’s arms, telling him he will be as handsome as his father.

He loves that compliment and turns to his dad giving him a high five.

Sami wraps her little arm around her mother and sits comfortably on her lap smiling at her as if it is the most natural thing in the world.

Roman cannot believe his eyes. He swallows past the lump in his throat and marvels at the sight before him, nodding as though it confirms what he already knows deep down. He realises in that moment that yes, he can believe his eyes. Marlena has such a natural way with her children even after all these years. It is instinctual on both their parts. No matter what will become of his relationship with Marlena, she will always have her children and they will always have her. They will be okay. He can at least find some comfort in that.

The kids have taken advantage of Roman’s momentary distraction and tackle him to the couch.

“Okay guys, you have worn me out. Where’s Mommy?”

The kids have been running circles around him all morning and Roman is pooped, laying sprawled out on the couch. He truly is a sight to behold with his ruffled salt n’ pepper hair, and clothes and face covered in flour.

“Mom helped us get dressed this morning, Dad, and she told us she would be down in a little bit to make us breakfast,” Eric enlightens him.

“Alright, then let’s get you guys some breakfast and Iíll go and see what is taking her so long.”

And with that, he takes the kids into the war zone for a kitchen they created earlier and begins to make them pancakes, leaving his trademark signature on each one with maple syrup.

Sami cuts into her name and the smiley face and begins to devour the pancake piece by piece. She is mid bite when her innocent curiosity finds its dissonant voice and sears through Roman like a hot knife…

“Daddy? Why does Mommy cry at night?”

Roman freezes as he kneels down to clean the remainder of the flour off the floor. He can’t look his children in the eyes and keeps his head bowed down.

Sami continues, engrossed in her pancake, “sometimes when we can’t sleep, if we listen very carefully we can hear her.”

Roman stands defeated, tosses the wet sponge onto the table and faces them.

The twins look up at him, their big blue guileless eyes now etched with worry, “does she hurt, Daddy?”

*****

He has stood at this door more times than he cares to count since he moved just a few feet across the hallway. His pose is always the same; stance tentative, clenched fist raised preparing to knock… longing to enter, but always refraining; Afraid to embrace his past, which has once again become his present… his future?; Afraid to embrace her.

Their first night together again after five long years was spent with two doors and a hallway separating them. If only it were mere physical distance and concrete barriers keeping them apart – They would have moved mountains to get to each other once upon a time.

Now things have changed. It would not matter if they were within inches of each other, they are worlds apart. Time, Isabella and Roman’s fear are the culprits. But as he walked to the guest room that night pulling off his shirt to retire for the evening, for just a few moments all of that seemed to melt away.

“Oh, hi.”

She stops abruptly just outside the bedroom door when she sees him. She didnít really expect to meet him out in the hallway.

Roman is transfixed by her lovely form; soft golden mane, porcelain features, curves in all the right places; curves he has spent hours discovering. He struggles just to find the words to greet her in return.

“Hhh-Hi…” he says, slowly slipping his shirt back on, tearing his eyes away from her for only a second while he puts his head through the top. He doesn’t realise it but he is unashamedly gawking at her.

The air between them is charged and he is drawn to her like a magnet, closing the distance between them. It is just the two of them again. It is 1986. There she stands, clad in her old pink robe, loving him. It brings back so many wonderful memories for him.

Marlena fidgets nervously running her hand over her robe to ensure it is securely wrapped around her.

Why is he looking at me that way?

Butterflies flutter in her stomach, while her heart thumps erratically, threatening to leap out of her throat. She swallows, realising what has him so enraptured and feels like she owes him an explanation.

“Uh, I found my old robe in a box in the back of the closet in here…” she trails off, smoothing the robe out anxiously.

He snaps out of his trance.

“Yeah, I–I–uh… I forgot to have the good will come and pick it up, I guess.”

He knows better than that. Forget, he has not. He is such a bad liar. He wanted a little piece of her to hold onto.

She can tell he is uneasy; clearly affected by the robe, by its significance, by her. She makes light of the situation to distract him a little.

“Lucky for me!” she laughs.

“Yeah…” he joins her.

The smile on his face subsides somewhat as his eyes sweep over the robe once again. He is being pulled back in time, with her.

“What’s the matter?”

“Matter?” He asks distractedly. He didnít realise anything was the matter. The feelings overtaking him, thrill him, liven him.

“Well, you keep– you keep looking at me so funny…”

“I’m sorry, Doc, this is just so weird. I see you in that robe, it’s like..”. he looks at her, nostalgia written all over his face, “it’s like the good ole days.”

“It’s like yesterday,” she finishes for him, knowing exactly how he is feeling in this moment.

He nods.

“Roman, it is yesterday for me,” she whispers as his trembling hand gravitates towards her little by little.

They are both so lost in each other; in yesterday.

She tilts her head slightly, nuzzling the air as though it is his hand; trying to get closer; closer than that; aching for him; wanting nothing more than to feel the warmth of his touch on her face. Her breathing falters as she anticipates his soft caress. Her skin is on fire; it tingles with his nearness and her senses are heightened with just the mere masculine scent of him. You smell so good. How she wishes she could tell him.

He is truly mesmerised by her. Those magnificent amber depths beckon him as his hand inches closer still… this is what heaven feels like. He imagines her skin is still so soft and silky smooth. If he could only press his lips up against it to find out?

And then he clenches that god damn fist, closes his eyes painfully and steels himself, no longer leaning in towards her.

“Goodnight, Doc.”

His words break through the fog he is creating and she comes crashing back down into reality. She cannot hide her disappointment as she nods mournfully. Ashamed by how easily she is affected by him, she composes herself quickly, moves back slightly, and wishes him too, a “goodnight”.

It is with a heavy heart that Marlena watches him walk away from her. The tight, sharp pain gripping her chest is almost debilitating in its intensity and she winces imperceptibly.

Once at the threshold of his room, Roman turns back and gazes at her, lovingly, longingly.

She realises she is still staring at him, rendered motionless by his earlier closeness. Turning, slightly embarrassed, she closes the door behind her. Once safely inside, she lets out a ragged breath and leans back against the door heavily to hold her unsteady frame upright. She isn’t used to having him pull away from her like that. Hot tears spill over her thick, dark lashes and from somewhere deep within a dear, vital part of her being cries out in anguish. She is home, with her family, with him and yet, she feels alone and empty to the core.

He stands outside for a moment longer, gazing at her now closed door. The dull ache in his heart will not subside. Thoughts of her consume him and his body is reacting in ways it had forgotten it could. How will he sleep now? How he regrets pulling away from her like that.

Crossing the floor to her room once again, he lifts his hand to touch the door, to caress it like he wanted to caress her mere seconds ago… to knock on it and perhaps embrace his past? Embrace her?

Knock on the door, Roman. Just do it…

Roman lightly raps on the door. He waits. There is no answer. He knocks a little louder this time.

“Doc? May I come in?”

Sami’s words keep ringing in his ears. Does she hurt, Daddy?

Getting a little worried, Roman tries the door handle and is relieved to feel it give way beneath his hand as the door opens.

Marlena is nowhere in sight. The bed is made with a neatly folded towel atop the comforter.

He runs his hand over the snowy white terry cloth as he looks around for any sign as to her whereabouts. Nothing looks out of the ordinary, except perhaps the made bed. It used to be the last thing Marlena would do in the morning. Sometimes she wouldnít get to even straightening the sheets before work. They would remain tangled not unlike their hot, flushed bodies in the early hours of the morning; the only difference being that Roman and Marlena couldn’t remain that way all day.

He is just about to call her name once more and head for the adjoining en suite when the bathroom door flies open to reveal a stark naked Marlena, body flushed pink and dripping wet as she treads softy onto the carpeted floor, eyes searching for the towel but oblivious to her husband’s presence…

Roman is stunned speechless as Marlena stands there before him in all her naked glory. He is in awe; rooted in his position next to the bed. Heat suffuses his entire body; blood rushing from his head to his toes like molten lava, veins throbbing incessantly, in time with his accelerated heart beat. Suddenly, his clothes feel unbearably restrictive; suffocating.

She is as beautiful as he remembers. Even more so, if that is possible. Long, shapely legs, full breasts, smooth velvety skin, an elegant swan-like neck made for his petting; this incredible body is emblazoned in his memory and yet somehow he feels as though he is studying it for the very first time. Even so, his lips and the tips of his fingers pulsate with the memory of having caressed it. How can it be that this body is now so foreign but still so familiar at the same time?

Completely captivated by her, his blue eyes are drawn to a tiny droplet of water as it trails down over her collar bone. They follow as it travels the curve of one perky, voluptuous breast and tips over her distended nipple, making it glisten; seemingly taunting him.

Keep it together, man.

He swallows hard and licks his dry lips as he concentrates on that little pebble he has had in his mouth and at the tips of his fingers countless times in the past. He can almost feel his tongue rolling over it while his teeth form a vicious snap trap around it. Without conscious awareness Roman begins to grit his teeth causing the muscles in his cheeks to spasm. His eyes are flaming torches of blue fire. His fists clench and relax, occupying hands that have suddenly acquired a mind of their own.

God, how he envies those tiny rivulets of water that caress her skin.  He can hear them hit the carpet; the gentle pitter-patter is magnified tenfold in his ears resembling a hammer on a snare drum, in sync with the steady beat of his throbbing heart.

As much as he tries to resist, he cant help but drop his gaze to the buttery flesh of those soft thighs where she would more often than not wear his affection in various shades of purple. This is one place in particular he has spent hours upon hours exploring, taking pride in his efforts while encouraged and rewarded by Marlena’s vocal pleasure; A sharp intake of breath would become a soft whimper or two, followed by steady moaning which led to heady cries of release that would tear at her throat… the sounds haunt him still.

Now, those thighs are unblemished, creamy white; all traces of him gone; all evidence of his ever having been there, of ever having marked her, of ever having possessed her, erased in five long years. And it hits him hard; she is no longer his – free to be someone else’s. Is that how she feels? As though their life together has faded like a temporary love bite? That his feelings for her have waned over time? Surely, she knows that what he felt for her all those years ago was anything but fleeting; that when she touched him, she branded his soul for all of time? That when he touched her he wanted it to be forever?

Roman understands that everything has been cast into doubt. Marlena is not sure of anything anymore because of his own uncertainty and inability to commit to her and it is slowly but surely eating away at her. It took his children’s innocence and curiosity to shock him out of his self-pity and force him to take notice. Marlena is the strongest person Roman has ever known but deep down that’s what makes her the most vulnerable and gentle soul he has ever known and all he ever wanted to do in his life was to protect her with his life. She was human and she needed him and that gave him purpose and filled him with pride.

Pride. Aside from a mad physical attraction, that’s what he feels looking at her in this moment. Years ago when he was every bit the lost soul, she took him in and opened up her heart to him – first as a friend, then as Stefano Dimera, then as her husband and lover.  As her lover, Roman often wondered if it had always been like this; if he pleased her enough; if he measured up to his former self; if instinctively he remembered all the special ways she liked to be touched.

You have done that beautifully! It was always new and different, she reassures him. And she means it.

He just couldn’t help this crippling sense of inadequacy that came part and parcel with his amnesia… that is, until she taught him to see himself through her eyes. But in the meantime, she guided him, encouraging his efforts to please her and inadvertently giving him pointers along the way… He can’t help but remember that one morning…

He stands before the bathroom mirror, rubbing his face meditatively. This isn’t his real face. It is the face of a stranger staring back. But it is the only face he can remember and it is the face she loves. And when he looks into her eyes and sees the profound depths of her feelings for him he knows all he needs to know about himself. Her words echo in his mind…

“I love this face; especially this face…”

Concentrating on the ruggedly handsome image before him once again he chuckles, “You got the girl with this mug… could have been worse, Black.” He catches himself at the use of this former name. Truth be told Roman can’t let go of that name entirely. She fell in love with him when he was John Black. Marlena can’t simply forget it either it seems. He hasn’t actually confronted her about it but a few nights ago when in the darkness of their bedroom he pried her legs open, wordlessly insinuated himself between her thighs and held her until her toes curled and she went rigid in his arms, she shattered the silence crying out the name of the bandaged pawn she had fallen in love with. No words were needed to explain her faux pas, he cradled her until the trembling subsided and she fell asleep.

Grinning, Roman picks up the shaving cream and begins to lather his face. Having stepped out of the shower moments earlier, he wears nothing but a towel tied snugly around his waist. His hand is mid air, about to bring blade to skin when Marlena sleepily plods up behind him and wraps her arms around his upper torso, palms flat against his sculptured chest while her chin digs into his shoulder. He watches her in the mirror. Her hair is dishevelled and she is clad only in his half buttoned dinner shirt which ended up on the floor last night. Closing her eyes with contentment, her long dark lashes rest softly, beautifully against her cheeks.  She turns her head and rubs her cheek against his skin, nuzzling his bare back loving the smooth feel. Roman is mesmerised by her as she worships his body. She inhales his fresh scent and then places soft, wet open mouthed kisses between his shoulder-blades. Her lips on his bare skin create a tingling sensation down his spine making him want to squirm. The moan dies somewhere in his throat when her raspy voice breaks through the haze.

“Wanna leave *that* until tomorrow?” Her cheeky eyes gleam suggestively when they meet his in the reflection of the mirror.

Roman looks down at the razor in his hand and then back up at the few days’ stubble on his face. It dawns on him. She’s not suggesting…?? Is she?? Dropping the razor and covering her arms which are still wrapped around him, he closes his eyes and groans.

“Baby, youíre killing me.”

“No, I am just reminding you,” she winks. And with one last kiss in the crook of his neck she makes her way to the bedroom to get dressed for work.

Roman hurriedly washes the shaving cream off his face and goes after her. He finds Marlena, sitting on the edge of the bed, still in his shirt slipping on her nude thigh high nylons for work.

“Can I help you with those?”

He is a little nervous. He isn’t sure that she was hinting that this is something he used to do to her before Stefano took him away or whether she was trying to make him feel more confident about their sexual relationship and reminding him how it was always new and differentî between them. Either way this is like a first time for them both and he can’t help the butterflies anymore than he can help wanting her whenever she is near. There is something completely sexy about her letting him know how she likes to feel him against her skin; to know that he and only he was privy to all these intimate little details about her once upon a time.

“I’d like that…” She swallows hard.

Feeling a little vulnerable and uneasy Marlena tentatively hands him her other nylon as he kneels before her on the carpet at the foot of the bed. Bringing his hands up behind her left calf, he runs them down to her ankle and lifts her leg so that her foot rests on his towel clad thigh. He slips the stocking past her toes and looks up at her, wanting to watch her as his hands travel higher and higher.

Marlena has leant back, palms down and flat on the mattress behind her, her eyes never leave his. She looks deceptively relaxed even though her heart feels as though it will leap out of her throat at any given moment. His shirt has fallen off her slender shoulder giving him a full view of her breasts which are spilling out of the tops of delicate black lace cups.

At the sight of her a rush of pure adrenaline courses through Roman’s veins causing him to apply a little more pressure as he kneads the top of her thigh. She senses his excitement. Her pulse beats softly in her sex in response and she finds herself slowly spreading her legs for him.

Roman has the permission he has been waiting for. His eyes travel from her beautiful trusting face to the juncture between her thighs and without warning he slides his hand beneath the matching black lace of her panties from the side where he finally finds purchase. His cock strains against the towel from the contact. She is mush and he wants to just drown his hand in her.

“You like that, huh.” It isn’t a question.

A low sob escapes Marlena’s lips and she throws her head back, her mouth forming an ‘o’ as Roman flattens his palm on her. It makes a slight squishing sound.

“I like it,” she exhales. He adds a little more pressure.

“Lift up for a second, baby,” he growls. She obliges, moaning gently as she lifts her buttocks, grinding against him in the process. Roman removes his hand and pulls down on her panties, letting them fall around her ankles. They will accompany him to work later on this morning, scrunched up in the pocket of his worn leather jacket.

It’s a moment before Marlena realises Roman hasn’t moved. She feels his piercing gaze on her as she sits there, her lower extremities now completely exposed and spread before him. His face is mere inches from her. His nostrils flare as they are assaulted with the intoxicating scent of her. Her breathing becomes short and sharp when he makes contact tracing his index finger along her lips, studying her diligently, tracing her folds. She has to fight the urge to slam her legs shut. Being scrutinised so intimately, so intensely and under the harsh light of day makes her feel very self-conscious. They are just getting to know each other all over again. What has she started? Of course they have been intimate since his return but every time they go further it is like making love to him for the first time all over again. He always watches her penetratingly and with awe as though he is looking at her for the first time.

She can’t help herself, “do you like what you see?” Even as she asks the question she is overcome with an electric surge of self-awareness but before she can change her mind about this Roman swoops in, holding her legs firmly in place and hungrily lapping at her.

“Ohhh!” her legs go rigid, her stomach tenses, her back arches against the bed and her fingers clutch and twist the comforter at her sides until her knuckles turn white. She tries to stifle her moan and bites her lip. She is holding back, afraid to let go and show him the side of her that loses all control when she is with him. And Roman can sense it.

“I need to hear you, baby. I need to know what you like, how you like it. I need to know everything about you. I want all of you.” His hot breath fans her, ruffling her damp hair as he whispers, “remind me.” He rubs his stubbled chin and cheek against her, nudging her, literally inflaming her sensitive skin as he grazes her and coaxes her clitoris from its hood causing the little pearl to swell and harden.

Marlenaís body quivers. Her nerve endings are on fire and her breasts feel tight and achy against the restrictive material of her bra. She smoothes her hands over them to relieve the tension, body bowing against the bed.

“You taste so good. I never wanna forget this again. I never wanna forget you again.” Roman moans on her and she can feel the husky vibration of his lips against her. His prickly stubble combined with the hot exhalations from his nose send her into a delirious haze. She brings her hand down and threads her fingers through his hair so that she can feel his moistened tongue more thoroughly on her; in her.

Roman snakes his arms under her knees, lifting them over his shoulders, effectively fastening his mouth to her centre. The insistent suctioning motions and lashings of his hot, wet tongue as it spills over her slit fuels the thick flow of her juices that douse his chin. With her legs locked around him her inner thighs are pressed firmly against his cheeks. As he teasingly nips at her bundle of nerves again and again, his head bobs slightly and his stubble chafes her inner thighs raw. He curls his arms around the underside of her thighs flicking her clit as he begins to suck in earnest. He suckles with the fervour of a hungry infant on his mother’s breast, frantically trying to draw nourishment from her; to fill his mouth and satiate his hunger. Marlena feels the most incredible pressure, as though she might explode in his mouth.

Roman doesn’t want her to. Not yet. He changes pace and tugs at her nub licking gently so as not to take her too far too soon.

While his left arm remains wrapped around one thigh with his hand spidered across her abdomen holding her down against the mattress, Roman sneaks the other in from beneath her, stroking firmly and circling her opening. She squeezes her thighs against his face as a whimper escapes her lips.

His thumb flicks her clit alternating between sweeps of his tongue, working her into a frenzy. The comforter is all rumpled from her wreathing atop the bed. His saliva mixes with her own juices to create ample lubrication as he strokes her down allowing a finger to just slip past her opening, stopping short of filling her. She moves her hips up for more but he pulls back.

“Uhhhggnn, honey, please. No more teasing,” she cries piteously. Her body begins to tremble as her breathing becomes harsher.

“No more…” he promises. He leans forward and places soft butterfly kisses on her abdomen suckling there and leaving his mark while he slips a finger deep inside.

“One more, please… uhhh.”

He obliges and feels her muscles clench tightly around the two intruding digits drawing them in further and further.

“Mmmm yes!” she hisses.

“Is that it baby?” He thrusts hard on an angle hitting the spot. “Right there?”

“Uhhuhh…” she breathes.

He is intent on pleasing her. He begins to pump them in time with her gyrating hips. He controls her movement with one hand on her abdomen and his face buried between her legs to lap up her arousal. His thrusts become harder and swifter and his teeth clamp down on her clit while his tongue makes short strokes up and down. It is when he replaces his fingers with his piston-like tongue, lifting her slightly off the bed while clutching her ass tightly, that she finally comes. Hard and uninhibited. In his mouth. While he swallows.

Roman doesn’t end the contact immediately. He doesnít want to. He has never felt this close to her before and he imagines the last thing she would want after having shared something so private with him, is for him to casually retreat from her. He is not wrong.

As Marlena lays there quietly staring up at the ceiling, her breasts rise and fall in time with her short, sharp breaths. Her legs go limp around him but remain hiked up high on his shoulders.  She feels him shift, nuzzling her gently with his lips and nose until her body relaxes beneath him completely.

He puts her legs down bringing them together as she exhales softly.

Can you hold me?” she whispers.

Having just come out of such a vivid memory, as if having Marlena before him naked is not stimulation enough, all of Roman’s senses are heightened. He is so acutely aware of her; Drawn to her. He can almost feel the exquisite pressure of those gorgeous long legs wrapping themselves around him as he loves her, almost smell her essence on his skin, feel her scorching touch. And he is curious… does she still like to be touched that way? Would she still ask him to leave his 5 oíclock shadow intact to please her? His sexual relationship with Isabella has never been that uninhibited.

But Marlena is the only person who exists in the world at this very moment. Every nerve ending is awakened and on fire, making its presence known in the stirring of his groin while his nostrils flare in response to the pervading scent of her honeysuckle body-wash.

His very lifeblood pumps furiously through his veins, alerting his body in ways he didn’t think possible. He can hear his heart beat in his ears. Can she hear it too? Will she notice his body’s eager reaction to her nearness, her nakedness?

The tiny voice inside him warns him – don’t do this to yourself Roman, you know what happened the last time you opened up your heart to this kind of pain. You love Isabella now. You want to be with Isabella now.

Marlena senses that she is not alone. She catches the shadow of somebody standing by the bed through the corner of her eye and panic unfurls in the pit of her stomach.

“Jesus! Roman! I– I’m sorry,” she stammers, crossing her arms over her body in a futile attempt to maintain some dignity.

She isnít exactly sure why she is apologising. She feels so exposed. So damn exposed… and raw. And he is clearly scrutinising her. The way he always did. A flush creeps from her toes right to her face.

“I forgot my towel in here.” Her eyes fall to the bed and she realises the towel is right there next to him. She cannot avoid it. He either has to bring it to her or she has to go to him and Roman clearly has no intention of budging.

“… there were none left in the bathroom. I guess they are still in the washing machine -I forgot to put them in the dryer.”  She is rambling and she thinks she might choke on her own words, her mouth is so dry.

Roman isn’t even listening to her. He is riveted by her; so totally enraptured. His jaw just about hits the floor.

“I uh, I was worried about you when you didn’t answer, but I see you’re… you’re,” he is at a loss for words.

“Naked?” She offers and laughs nervously, trying to ease some of the tension.

His eyes meet hers, dark and fiercely penetrating. He isn’t laughing.

“Perfect. So incredibly beautiful,” he finishes fervently as his eyes remain fixed on her.

A shy smile forms on her lips as Marlena blushes and averts her eyes. She cannot hold his piercing gaze any longer. How she wishes that towel would magically wrap itself around her body right now.

“Thank you.”

She tries to sound as if she is unaffected by his compliment and his mere presence. The truth is, she can feel her nipples hardening against her arm as she shields them from his view, and goosebumps form all over her skin. Marlena is so frightened that he can smell her arousal. She can’t possibly feel more vulnerable than she does at this very moment. He always used to tell her that he knew from the slight change in the scent of her skin, she was turned on.

“It’s okay Doc, it’s not like we haven’t…”

Fuck.

“I mean, it’s not like I haven’t seen…”

Fuck.

“I’m sorry, Doc.”

It is too late for sorry. Marlena is flustered and her body has become too aware of him. She wants and needs this man so desperately. Nothing has changed for her.

“Roman, it’s getting a little cold, can I please have my towel?”

“Yeah, of course!”

He feels like a real idiot. Picking the towel up off the bed he unfolds it and closes the distance between them.

Neither of them is sure what to do. If it were 1986, her eyes would convey her implicit trust, not the fear, the shame or the uncertainty they hold now. If it were 1986, she’d have lifted her arms for him to wrap the towel around her. Either that, or the towel would have lain forgotten in favour of him being wrapped in her soft sex and she in his secure embrace.

But it is 1991. It isn’t that simple. If she reaches out for it, she will be exposing herself all over again. If he were to wrap it around her, he might accidentally touch her and he doesn’t think he can handle that right now.

But deep down, he doesn’t want to leave. She doesn’t want him to either.

Their eyes remain fixed on one another, as Roman steps in closer holding the towel open, offering it to her to step in to. Marlena takes a couple of tentative steps in towards him and turns her back to him.

He can’t help but notice how her sexy back curves into her perfectly round ass. He could never forget it. It made for great leverage when he pummelled her; when all he could see was shards of bright white light and all he could hear was his own distant voice as it called her name over and over.

His jeans tighten around the bulge in his pants. Thank God she is facing the other way.

Marlena can feel the heat emanating from his body. He is too close for comfort as he finally wraps the towel around her slender body.

She inhales sharply and closes her eyes, when she feels his hot breath on her neck and his hand lightly brush against her breast.

“Roman?”

She is startled and confused.

He doesn’t know what has come over him. It is the desire he feels for this woman, his wife that comes from the deepest part of him. He is desperate to touch her.

And there it is like a wave washing over him, that slight change in her scent; the spicy perfume of her arousal mixed with honeysuckle.

“Baby, I wanna touch you there,” he whispers in her ear, barely touching her but stripping her bare all the same.

This is killing them both.

Marlena secures the towel around her. He still knows her body so well.

Her breathing quickens despite herself and her head rolls back onto his shoulder as he sucks gently on her neck, taking her soft skin between his teeth and running his tongue along it. It tingles.

“Roman, please don’t do this,” she begs him not to start something he cannot finish.

Her heart beats frantically as he continues his petting.

“Honey, we both *want* this. It’s just you and me again. That’s all that matters.”

That’s all she has ever wanted.

“You and me,” she repeats, breathlessly. Longingly.

And Isabella. He told her he loves her over the phone, that he misses her, that he has something important to tell her over lunch.

It is getting harder to concentrate. Her mind screams no and yet her body betrays her.

Roman leans his head against hers clamping his jaw tightly, making a conscious effort to steady his breathing and to will his hands to behave. She is right. He needs to regain control of himself or he will cause her even more pain. He can’t just erase the last five years and pretend they never happened. Isn’t that what he has been telling her all this time? Hypocrite. What the hell kind of mind games is he playing with her anyway? He is starting to loathe himself.

He wraps both arms around her from behind as she sags against him and cries.

“Shh, don’t cry, Doc. I’m so sorry I keep hurting you like this.”

She feels like she is losing him all over again. Denying themselves each other is not something they are used to.

He rocks her gently. His eyes are closed as he tries to contain his own emotions, and he presses his lips up against her cheek. His brow furrows as if he is in pain. And he is. He is feeling her pain. Every little bit of it.

“I feel like I am losing my mind. I need you so badly, Roman.”

Tears, endless tears.

He sucks in a breath and holds her tighter.

“I know,” his voice is hoarse with emotion. It rips his heart out.

“I am trying so hard to be strong about this.”

“I know,” he holds her tighter.

She turns her face to the side and his nose meets hers in an intimate eskimo kiss. She allows the contact for a moment. Despite her protests she needs to feel close to him. But this is all so unbearably confusing. And it will probably never happen again. She extricates herself from his embrace regrettably and he looks wounded.

“Don’t do this to me Roman, please. Don’t touch me only to have to pull away. Not ever again.” She hits her chest, “*this* hurts too much.” The tears fall uninhibited. She clears her throat to get past the lump. “I am not who you want to spend the rest of your life with. At least you’re not sure that I am.”  This “truth” slices her into tatters.

“Doc,…”

“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to explain, or say something you don’t mean. I’m not sure I can bear another round.” She is just so damn tired of it all. “I know how you feel about Isabella, Roman.” She remembers the happy faces adorning the front page of the paper and smiles despite herself. “You can’t simply just forget the love you feel for someone.”

He recognises the warmth in her eyes; empathy. She is no longer talking about his feelings for Isabella, but her own.

It takes five years, and someone new to fill their place in your heart, she concludes wryly.

“You should go. You shouldnít be in here.” She swipes at her tears cursorily, trying for an ice cold exterior.

No! “Marlena, I am going to…”

“To what?”

He decides now is not the time to tell her about seeing Isabella. He will come back after lunch and they will talk this through when he can make some kind of a commitment to her – even if it means being with neither of them and focusing on her disappearance.

He sighs heavily and runs his hand through his hair in frustration. “Nevermind.”

Just as she thought.

“Tell the children I will be down in a minute.” And with that she leaves him standing in the middle of their room shutting the bathroom door behind her and shutting him out of her life.

*****

Marlena is silent at breakfast and hardly touches her food. It’s par for the course lately. She can barely look Roman in the eye after their earlier encounter. Sami and Eric shovel spoonfuls of their cereal in their mouths between laughing and playing with the G.I. Joe and Duck Tales figurines provided in the boxes. Marlena excuses herself from the table and begins washing the dishes. One coffee mug in particular is getting a thorough scrubbing as she focuses intently on an invisible stain. She is a million miles away. Roman brings his plate to the sink and pries the ceramic mug from her hands, “sweetheart, scrub that one any harder and it will turn to sand,” he jokes.

“Yeah, I guess I got carried away,” she answers distractedly. She pulls the plug, letting the water swirl down the drain. The slurping sound is a little disconcerting given her frame of mind. That’s how quickly her life is spiralling out of control, she muses.

“Doc?”

“Yes? I’m sorry, did you say something?” She turns to look at him and it is only then under the harsh kitchen light that he notices the dark circles under her beautiful but tired eyes. Aside from the obvious strain on their relationship, he wonders if she is perhaps keeping things from him; more specifically, memories from her missing years.

He reaches out to touch her face but drops his hand when she side-steps him, denying him any sort of contact.

“Shouldn’t you be leaving for work, Roman?”

He can’t help the hurt he feels at her rejection. He knows she isn’t being vindictive. She is trying hopelessly to shield herself from more pain. But the little voice inside his head mocks him nonetheless… how do you like a taste of your own medicine, Roman?

“Will you be alright?”

“Mhm.” She does her best to lace her confirmation with certainty; a certainty she does not feel. And it is clear to Roman she isn’t going to give him any more than that.

“I will be home from the station just after lunch. I have a few matters I need to attend to and I’ll get here as soon as I can. We need to talk.”

Marlena visibly tenses up. “Roman, about what happened, I already told you I understand. We just got caught up in the past. You can’t let that dictate your future.” It kills her to say it; to speak so trivially about their past. Her past with him is her everything. She busies herself folding the tea towel – anything to not have to face him while blatantly lying.

“It was more than just a trip down memory lane, Doc.”

“Let’s not do this right now.” It comes out as a strangled whisper.

He takes her arm from behind to stop her from retreating and steps right up against her back, holding her close as he issues a promise, “we will continue this conversation when I come home.”

Marlena isn’t sure she wants to hear what he has to say especially given his impending meeting with Isabella. She imagines he misses her, as do the children; that he loves her still; and that sitting across from her at the restaurant he will tell her just that.

Isabella has been sitting and waiting, twirling the straw in her lemonade between trembling fingers for the last thirty minutes; chocolate brown eyes trained vigilantly on the door for her fiancè.

And don’t you forget it, Roman. You are my fiancè. You promised to marry me and you will…  If you ever get here, she agonises.

Reaching for her purse, Isabella pulls out a ruby red lipstick and compact mirror. She wills her hand to stop shaking long enough to apply the vivid colour to thin lips. For a brief moment, she considers her reflection and frowns imperceptibly. The last few weeks have aged her considerably. At least that is how she regards herself; older, less attractive. From her disillusioned perspective her flaws are exaggerated; they appear harsher. The two slight dimples on either side of her lips, that Roman once found endearing and probably still does, now more closely resemble wrinkles that effect deep and identical creases on her cheeks even when she is not smiling. Her hair looks dull and a little thinner while her prominent Italian nose irks her to no end, causing her to momentarily rue her heritage. It is her misery and loneliness painting the ugly picture staring back at her in gloomy shades of grey. Adding further to her inventory of self-deprecation, she cringes as she notices how the bold colour of her lips contrasts sharply with her relatively white teeth and pale complexion. As she grabs the napkin next to her to wipe the oily substance off, the little voice inside her head mocks her…

Mirror, mirror on the wall,

Who is the fairest one of all?

Why Marlena is, of course.

Isabella snaps the mirror shut and tosses it back into her purse as though she has been burnt by it. The offending lipstick is long forgotten and remains heavily plastered on her lips. Not only has Marlena’s return shaken her reality, it has shattered her brittle confidence and makes her question just how she measures up to Roman’s wife; his ideal woman. While she idly wondered about these things in the past, pursuit of the answers to such meanderings served no purpose, except perhaps as a reassurance vis a vis her place in Roman’s life. Isabella, was willing to forego such reassurances if it meant being shielded from certain truths. All she needed to know was that Roman loved her. And he did, *does*, love her. As a ghost of his past, Isabella didn’t perceive Marlena as a bona fide threat. After all, it is not like Roman could choose to go back to her. And if his heart was unfaithful, she didnít care to know about it because it was of no consequence… until now.

Isabella shudders from the sudden chill that envelopes her. When she realises the draft has come from the open door, she sits up expectantly craning her neck to see past the couple who have just stepped in from the cold.  After what feels like an eternity, he enters, turning to thank the hostess as she holds the door for him.

Her heart skips a beat. He’s here! Relief washes over her even as the butterflies in her stomach begin their familiar dance.

Roman scans the room for her.

She quickly takes a sip of her now flat and sugary lemonade; her tongue is parched and stuck to the roof of her mouth. Seeing Roman again for the first time in weeks only intensifies her longing; he is, after all, the physical embodiment of all that she has been missing and all that she stands to lose. She doesn’t need to be reminded. She laments the injustice of being separated from him and his children, every day. It always ends in self-pity. Compounded by this is the crippling insecurity Marlena unwittingly inspires in her. After all, there is no denying that his wife was a beautiful woman…

Don’t you mean *is*, Isabella? That insidious little voice doesn’t let anything get past it. She’s back. In the flesh, it continues, and everyone has reacted as though it’s the second coming of…

“Christ! Roman, you scared me!” she exclaims.

Roman immediately removes his hand from her shoulder. “Iím sorry, you seemed to be lost in thought. Are you okay? Where were you just now?”

Standing up, Isabella flings herself into his arms and buries her face in his neck. “I was just thinking of happier times we shared. I am so glad you are here!” she grins, bearing all her teeth, unable to contain her delight. “I have wanted to feel your arms around me for so long, Roman,” she speaks softly, loving the very masculine scent of him. It is very different to what she is used to and she wonders if Marlena has inspired the change. In fact, she swears she can smell a hint of something distinctly feminine on him. Banishing the thought, she tightens her arms around him, not wanting to let go.

Roman is grateful for her embrace. He hugs her back tangling his fingers in her brown curly locks. It feels familiar and safe at a time when everything has been thrown into utter chaos. He also feels a pang of guilt because of his earlier encounter with Marlena, not to mention the memories he has been having. He tightens his hold on Isabella mentally willing the images away.

Encouraged by the strength of his embrace and his apparent willingness to keep her there, she steps back enough to lean in and kiss him but he brings her hand up between them instead and plants a small kiss there, Marlena never far from his thoughts.

“It’s good to see you, Izzy-B.” He offers her a wan smile. “Iíve missed you.” He means it.

She tries to hide her disappointment at being rebuffed. After their telephone conversation she didn’t expect him to be quite so distant and she can’t let it pass. “What, you aren’t allowed to kiss your fiancè anymore?” she scoffs.

He chooses not to answer. She peers up at him, bitter tears burning the back of her throat. He is contemplating the hand he still holds in his own.

“Your ring would still be on this finger if it werenít for…” she starts in a regrettable tone. She doesn’t mean it to sound callous or like she is blaming the other woman. God knows she’d like to be able to. But Isabella is smart enough to know that anger directed at Marlena is misplaced. She simply wants to be reassured that Roman shares her regret; that he doesnít want to lose what they have either.

He squeezes her hand and then lets it go with a heavy sigh as he takes a seat at their table.

“Don’t finish that sentence, please.” He doesn’t want to even entertain the possibility. No matter what he is going through right now he could never ever wish that Marlena had never returned; that his children never have their mother. When he saw her on the pier that night and everything had melted away, for that small moment in time, all was right with the world again.

Isabella takes the seat directly across from him.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” His dismissal stings. “I’ve been missing you and just wishing that we could get back to where we were before all this happened.”

He is very protective of Marlena and she canít help the resentment that brews within. She wonders, is he as protective of our relationship around Marlena?

“It’s only natural,” he comforts her. “But I’m just not sure that it’s possible, Izzy-B. We can’t just pretend that Marlena meant… means nothing to me. When you came into my life I was very honest with you about her place in my life.”

Yes, she was dead. Something tells her he would not appreciate her brand of sarcasm right now.

Indeed he was honest with her, she can admit this. However, what he must understand is that she is no longer vying for his affections with the ghost of his wife. Marlena is very real and Isabella suspects that Roman’s feelings for her might still be too.

“But Marlena is your past Roman and you love me, now, in the present,” she emphasises, bringing her hand to cup the side of his face.

How can he explain that he is beginning to realise that what he felt for Marlena transcends space and time?

“We were happy weren’t we?” She sounds desperate as she searches his blue eyes. “You put a ring on my finger. We were going to be a family with the children. We can’t pretend that we meant nothing to each other.” She pleads their case passionately, feeling that perhaps she is the only one fighting for them. Roman seems to be fighting her.

“Marlena doesn’t expect us to,” he shrugs.

“Do you?” She is afraid to ask.

“Listen Izzy-B, I do love you. I can’t just switch those feelings off over night.” She smiles warmly at him.

“But I can’t give you the commitment you need right now.”

“Roman, I am not asking…”

He interjects. “I know you are not pressuring me to make a decision but you need to hear me out. I don’t want to get your hopes up. I can’t promise you a thing, Isabella. I owe it to you, I owe it to myself and I owe it to Marlena and the children to see where I stand with Marlena. We didn’t make the conscious decision to end it. We were torn apart by circumstances beyond our control.”

“You mean much like we are now?”

Touche.

“I still have a choice now,” unlike the last time are the unspoken words.

She finds that jagged pill a little hard to swallow.

He sees the pain in her eyes and he hates himself for it. But he cannot string her along. He has to be honest if they are going to resolve this mess.

“And you are choosing Marlena?” She asks incredulously, her voice shrill. Her heart beats frantically. I am losing him!

“No! I chose Marlena a long time ago Isabella and she is still my wife. Choosing to be with you means choosing to divorce her and that is not a decision I am ready to make; not without serious consideration. Making any decision at all is going to take time. Please try to understand. It doesn’t mean I am choosing to be with Marlena.”

She is crying now. She wasn’t expecting this at all. He was devastated when she gave him back the ring; she was so sure of his love for her.

The waiter who has approached their table looks to Roman for instruction, “Sir?”

“I’m sorry, we’ll just be a few more minutes.” The waiter looks on sympathetically and nods before he moves on.

“I am not hungry anymore,” Isabella states dejectedly getting up off her chair and almost losing her balance.

Roman takes her by the arm and pulls her back down. “Izzy-B, please don’t leave like this. I love you. You have to believe that!”

She stares at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Is that what you tell her too?’ She’s smarting from the pain. He knows that.

He hesitates… “I… I haven’t been able to, no.” He is not sure he can go into the whys and wherefores so he leaves it at that.

Isabella feels a surge of triumph that she manages to conceal by averting her eyes. She decides not to push him for the reason. All that matters is that he can’t say it.

One:Nil.

“Is she sharing our… your bed, Roman?” Jealousy; thinly veiled and poisonous.

“No!” He reaches out to lift her chin and make her look at him in the eyes, “no,” he repeats vehemently. “I am sleeping in the guest room, Isabella.”

A tide of relief washes over her and her demeanour softens.

Two:Nil.

“But she’d like to be?” she asks tentatively, unsure of how much Roman is willing to divulge where Marlena is concerned.

“Like to be what?” Roman asks confused.

“Sharing your bed.”

Roman sighs in frustration, running his hand through his hair. This is getting them nowhere.

“I’ll take that to mean yes,” she adds bitterly.

“Of course she would! That is no secret. But nothing is going on between the two of us, Isabella,” he is stern with her and doesn’t appreciate her insinuations.

“Other than the fact that she is your *wife*,” she spits it out; makes it sound dirty. That word, with all its venom and the vitriol with which it is delivered, sits between them, festering for long moments; silently eating away at the tenuous bond Isabella is seeking desperately to preserve between herself and Roman.

While Roman understands she is hurting, there is a part of him that is taken slightly aback by her tone and the resentment he sees brewing hotly in her eyes.

“I’m sorry…” she looks contrite when she notices Roman’s astonishment. The way he stares at her unnerves her; it’s as though he has just seen a side to her she has never shown him before. It is clear from the sour expression on his face, he doesn’t like it. “I… I am just so sick over this, Roman, I don’t know what I am saying. I’m sorry.”

He softens. “Iím sorry too, Izzy-B… for everything,” he takes her hand in his and she smiles sweetly at him as he strokes her hand.

“Roman?”

“Mmm?”

“The children, how are they?”

His face lights up as he thinks of Eric and Sami. “It’s been hard on them. They miss you. But they’re adjusting.” The worry is evident in his voice. “Marlena is very good with them, Isabella,” he adds seriously, in case she had any doubt.

She can’t find it in herself to acknowledge that right now. “I’d like to spend some time with them, if I can,” she pushes on past the lump in her throat, “I don’t want them to ever forget that I love them and care for them, Roman.”

His heart goes out to her. He knows how much she loves his children.

“Hey, it will never happen. We won’t let it happen. You know you are welcome to see the children any time. They know that too,” he reassures her. Marlena has always put the childrení’ needs before her own and now is no different.

Isabella takes that as her cue.

“I just want us to be a family, Roman. The way we used to be! Remember when the twins were just a little bit younger and…” Isabella continues her monologue, recalling happier times spent together with the children.

Roman remembers alright. As Isabella’s voice becomes more and more distant the voice of another fills his ears and occupies his mind…

“Sami! Baby girl, don’t put that in your mouth!”

Her infectious laughter reaches him as he stands at the foot of the stairs watching her play with their children. Sami and Eric, all of 18 months, sit steadily on their bottoms as Marlena tries to pry something indiscernible from her daughter’s small but tight fist before it reaches its ultimate destination… her mouth.

“Sweetheart, give that to mommy…” Marlena pleads as she struggles with an uncooperative Sami who protests with a very testy, “Naow, mama!”

A shirtless Roman bites his lip to keep from laughing and looks on as he continues drying his hair with a towel. The three of them are surrounded by all manner of toys scattered on the living room floor. Eric’s building blocks are stacked precariously on top of each other, between Marlena’s legs, which are spread to either side.

“Dada,” Eric squeals, bearing his two newly forming front teeth, as he notices his daddy. He shuffles forward on his bottom and sticks his hands out for Roman but is quickly distracted by the teething biscuit he finds laying at his feet.

“Hey there, slugger,” Roman ruffles Eric’s blonde hair even as he turns his attention to his baby girl, “Howís my little princess?”

“I’m much better now, daddy!” Marlena answers for her, trying futilely to tidy up some of the toys within her reach. “Aren’t you baby girl? She hasn’t fussed as much since I brought them downstairs this morning,” utter relief underlies her tone. She sounds weary.

“I’m glad they’re not giving their mommy a hard time. They tired you out this morning, baby,” he sits down on the floor behind her, throwing the towel on the couch and placing his legs to either side of hers. His arms instinctively circle her waist, his hand seeking the bare skin beneath her white t-shirt, to trace light patterns on her stomach. He places soft kisses on her cheek, his lips lingering there.

“Hi,” Marlena greets him warmly, droopily closing her eyes as she leans back into him, relaxing against his bare chest and relishing in the feel of his caress.

“Hi sweetheart,” he smiles as he feels her sag against him, letting him take all her body weight. “She’s as stubborn as you, you know that?” he only half kids, as he considers his daughter who scrunches up her face in distaste when she realises rubber Gumby doesn’t taste as good as he looks.

“Heeey!” She slaps him lightly on the thigh. She is exhausted after the twins’ antics during the early hours of this morning. Catching a couple more hours of sleep was nigh on impossible and Marlena gave up on the idea of going back to bed altogether when the sun came out. She breathes in slowly, eyelids still closed, inhaling his freshly showered scent. “Oh you smell *so* good,” her hand kneads his thigh and she can feel his muscles bunching up and flexing beneath the rough denim of his jeans.

“What are you guys doing here?” he asks, taking stock of the mess they have created.

Marlena giggles softly. She thinks she could fall asleep right here, in his arms. The low rumble of his chest as he talks, lulls her. “We’re playing…” she answers drowsily, slipping further and further away.

“So youíve been having fun without me?” he pouts watching his children.

“Mhmmm,” she shifts awkwardly against him, bringing her left leg up as a cramp seizes her foot. “Aooww, honey?” Roman obliges, pressing firmly on the upper lip of her foot and massaging her there, until she completely relaxes against him again.

He looks over to his left at Sami and Eric and is pleased to see they are engrossed in each other and their toys, talking in a language only they seem to understand. Turning his attention back to his wife who lightly dozes on him, he whispers in her left ear…

“Come on baby, that’s not fair.” He grins, lowering his voice a notch further, “what if daddy wants to play too?”

Thick fingers, calloused from years of training a gun, make their descent from her navel into the waistband of her tight, black leggings, negotiating the lace thong beneath until…

Her eyes snap open.

“Oh Jesus, Doc…” His finger slips further down, without resistance, into thick need; like silken honey, settled heavy between Marlena’s thighs. It plays on his mind; how sweet she must taste. She’s obviously been keeping it quiet now for several hours.

In the wake of Sami’s piercing cries at 4:00am, just as he was positioning himself to penetrate his wife, his hushed pleas to let their daughter cry just a little longer ultimately fell on deaf ears. She’d switched from compliant lover to concerned mother in mere seconds. “I can’t concentrate, baby,” she’d said putting a moratorium on any hope he had of putting it inside. Instead, she loved him in haste; rolled him off of her and wrapped deft fingers around his straining member, jerkily pumping him with her left hand while kissing him hard to finish him off quicker. Then, wearing only his t-shirt sans panties, she leapt from the bed and ran to their daughter’s room, disregarding the persisting ache between her thighs, and her need to have Roman’s penis quell it.

“You should have come to me, honey. I would have taken care of this…” he spreads thick fingers to either side of her sex, claiming the territory as his own… “made it all better.”

“Roman don’…” she starts in a tremulous voice, barely concealing her panic, “the babies.î” She squirms but can’t move; trapped between his legs and the hand he uses to pleasure her. His burgeoning erection nudges her bottom. There is truly no escape from this. A pink blush creeps up along her cheeks. She is too ashamed to even turn to look at Sami and Eric, in case their innocent little eyes are watching her, while their father’s hand is intimately tangled in her sex.

“Don’t fight this, baby. Don’t move… You’re so wet down here. You need this. You need *me*.” Slowly and methodically he works his fingers into her folds; he doesn’t push his way inside her, nor does he seek her clitoris to hasten her release. He simply kneads the flesh there as though it were dough, working in circles and spirals, summoning her blood and its heat to the tip of her distended bud.

“Mmm, oh, please… nnn…uh!” She undulates slightly against his hand, fucking thin air.

If Sami and Eric could appreciate just what is taking place before them, they would recognise mommy’s muted cries as those of pleasure, not pain. They’d understand the import of her words as she begs daddy not to do this to her in front of her babies. His reassurances that they are too young to understand, would ring hollow, as his hand begins making swift circular motions between her legs, the contour of his knuckles discernable through the stretchy fabric of her leggings. Theyí’ know that this is daddy’s way of showing mommy just how much he loves her. They’d see mommy’s body respond in kind as it bows rigidly against daddy’s from the love he inflicts on her; and then in her, by finally hooking his fingers into her, spreading her; filling her.

“Mmmphh… The things I would do to you right now, baby… if it weren’t for the kids…”He lowers his head to her neck, biting and sucking her there.

Marlena is lost in a sea of sensation. As her body wreathes from the pleasure she shifts her leg in a way liable to snap bone, levelling the tower of building blocks and attracting the attention of two identical sets of blue eyes in the process, “oh God…”

“Roman! Roman!? Are you listening to me?” Isabella snaps her fingers in front of his face. He is miles away.

“I’m sorry, what?” he tries for an innocent look, even though he is sure his ears and cheeks have been reddened by the memory. They feel hot. He is at least grateful for the tablecloth when he feels a sudden twitch in his groin.

Isabella considers him dubiously. “I was just thinking about the time you and I talked about having a baseball team full of children of our own. You said you wanted our babies to have my eyes,” she recalls with tenderness. “I still want that for us, Roman, more than anything in the world.”

“Izzy-B, I can’t…”

“Shhh,” she places a finger over his lips to stem the flow of words she might regret having triggered. “I just want you to know where I stand, Roman. Nothing has changed for me. I still love you and want you. And I will be ready waiting for you when you decide. I am not giving you and the children up without a fight.” Her jaw is set tight in determination and her gaze doesn’t falter.

If only he knew how to respond to that. He is not sure what he wants. He is not even sure he wants to continue this conversation since he doesn’t have the answers she seeks.

“We should get going. Is there anything I can do for you?” He decides it prudent to qualify the question. “I mean, is there anything you need? At the loft perhaps?”

“You. I need you there, Roman.” She answers in all blatant honestly. He walked right into that one. “But, since we both know that can”t happen right now, I will settle for your assistance in fixing a leaking tap, if you wouldnít mind. I was going to call Bo but…”

“Consider it done. If you have some time right now, I will come right over.”

Throwing a few bills onto the table, Roman pays for her drink and generously tips the waiter for the inconvenience. He takes Isabella’s hand in his and leads her out of the restaurant, feeling even more confused than before.

*****

The heavy spanner makes a clanging sound as Roman drops it onto the bench. He has spent the last half an hour under the sink trying to seal a leaking pipe while Isabella watches on, content just to be around him.

“There, that should take care of it. You shouldn’t have any more problems, baby…” he regrets it the moment it leaves his mouth.

Isabella is heartened by his slip of the tongue. “Thank you. Iím sorry to keep you from your w… work. First at the restaurant, now this…” she gestures towards the sink.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Izzy-B – for turning your life upside down, for hurting you like this.” He looks grief-stricken; vulnerable.

Isabella moves in towards him, placing her hands on his chest and smoothing them over his taut muscle, “you don’t have to be, baby. You can love only me; choose only me. We can have such a wonderful life together.” She takes his hand and lifts it to her heart… “this beats only for you. It’s yours. And I know you love me too.”

Roman remains still; doesn’t dare flinch. He clears his throat.

Overcome with desperation and insecurity, she slides his hand into the top of her blouse and over a slight breast, never taking her eyes off his.

Their one man audience, however, who merely came to deliver a letter and didn’t expect to find anyone home let alone an open loft door, decides she has seen enough…

 

Roman’s hand cups Isabella’s small breast beneath her shirt – hovering just over her heart as she holds him firmly in place. It’s a deceptively loving gesture; one that conceals Roman’s true discomfort and pulverises the heart of another in an instant…

Marlena; beautiful and desolate. Her face is delicately framed by blonde tendrils and her tawny eyes glisten brightly with the pain of having to bear witness to her husband’s seemingly intimate exchange with the other woman.  Her long, thin fingers curl tightly around the loft door, turning a ghostly shade of white as she leans her head against the metal surface and closes her eyes. Long lashes cast a shadow across her cheekbones, emphasising the dark circles that have found permanent residence there as of late.

Years ago, this expression was enough to make Roman go crazy – to have him want to strangle the very life out of the person causing it. He still would. How to do that now when he is the sole perpetrator?

Marlena’s hand slowly closes over the letter, crushing the thin paper beneath her fingers. She drops it to the ground where it makes a dull patter.  You should always trust your instincts – her own voice chides her with the same advice she has imparted on patients and Roman many a time over the years.  

Without giving Roman and Isabella a second glance, Marlena makes it to the elevator on unsteady legs and begins pushing the button erratically. Come on, come on! She wills it to come faster as she presses the button again and again. Finally the familiar dingí signals the car’s arrival. The door opens and Marlena seeks refuge inside, leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor…

*****

“Do hers feel like this, hmmm?” she murmurs seductively as she tries to mould his uncooperative hand over the petite ball of flesh.

Roman’s palm stiffens against her. He can’t believe his ears or the display of desperation unfolding before him.  “Don’t do this, Izzy-B,” he warns removing his hand. “It’s very unbecoming of you.”

Stung!

Her eyes widen in astonishment, “unbecoming of me?? Don’t tell me you don’t compare the two of us Roman,” she scoffs. “You are my fiancè. You promised me the world and now you are clawing it all back. Don’t you dare take the moral high ground with me and act all surprised when I don’t act or react the way you want me to. I am going crazy without you and I deserve some answers!” she spits angrily, smarting from his earlier rejection.

Trying to remain calm he concedes, “youíre right, you do.” She has a point.

“Don’t you patronise me, Roman Brady!”

“I explained that I am not ready to make a decision. What more can I tell you, Isabella?” he asks exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in the air for effect.

He can see the wheels turning dangerously in her mind as she considers him and he regrets the open ended invitation he just extended to her; certain truths will hurt her and he cannot and will not lie. But she is pushing for answers. Roman recognises that determined expression in her eyes, that fire – she will take this as far as she can without regard for the consequences.

Isabella’s top lip curls in disgust when she finally gives her jealousy a bold unrelenting voice… “You can start by telling me if it feels as good when you’re inside her.” So matter of fact, so crude. He has to remind himself that she is hurting too.

“Get a hold of yourself Isabella, this is not going to help anybody,” he cautions, his breath quickening. Whether it is from the image she has conjured for him or the fact that he feels panicked like a deer caught in headlights, the effect is still the same.

“Try being honest, Roman. That would be a tremendous help for *everybody*,” she retorts looking him square in the eye; challenging him with one cocked eyebrow.

Cornered and affronted, Roman rises to the challenge, the octaves of his voice following suit as he fires question after question at Isabella like darts hitting the bullseye. Every. Single. Time.

“You want to know WHAT exactly, Isabella???” he answers, mind swirling, as he takes a confrontational step towards her, “if… if her breasts feel good to touch, huh?” he cups the air demonstratively, his hand shaking in her face, whilst he continues his tirade without missing a beat… “if they are perfectly rounded balls of flesh made just for the palm of my hand?? Or, or if the memory of her long legs wrapped around me is burned in my brain?? And what if I can’t *forget* the way it feels to make love to her? If I can’t forget those sounds no matter how hard I try???” he continues unhinged, voice hoarse and becoming more urgent and incensed as he gestures at his temples, “what then?? What if I *still* remember the last time I was ever inside her, the last time I ever kissed her or told her that *I*. *love*. *her*. before that *GOD DAMN* plane went down and took her from me!?” He stops abruptly, chest heaving as he tries hopelessly to regain control of his emotions. When he speaks again, his voice becomes an almost inaudible whisper as his hands fall helplessly to his sides… “What if I still dream about her coming back to me?”

There is nothing but deafening silence. There is nothing to say. Each question begets the answer.

His mind reels from his own powerful confession as Isabella stands numb before him, her mind repeating the obvious over and over; she has come back to you, she has come back to you.

Her eyes are brimming with tears that threaten to spill momentarily; his are ablaze with the sorrowful realisation that the yesterday he just so recklessly unleashed upon Isabella, has no tomorrow.

It is not long before Isabella scrambles in humiliation, taking the loft stairs two at a time. Roman’s profuse apologies fall on deaf ears and his efforts to console her are obstinately rejected. She needs time. He too, needs time – to process the meaning of his outburst in his own mind.

Picking up his leather jacket, he takes one last look towards the stairs, deciding it best to leave her alone for a while. I’m sorry, Isabella.

Stepping outside the loft, he pulls the heavy door closed. As he reaches for his keys to lock it, he stops, tilting his head in consideration. Surely he is not imagining things; he swears there is a hint of L’Eau Dí’ssey in the air and there is only one woman he knows who wears it. Shaking the thought off as absurd, he turns for the elevator. As he does, the tip of his boot sends a scrunched up ball of paper flying in the same direction. Curious, Roman picks it up and unravels it expecting to find nothing important but instead, becoming privy to the most important of intentions, unintended for him to be sure, but most consequential for him all the same.

He would recognise the elegant script adorning the now crumpled paper anywhere; not unlike her scent mere moments ago. She was here… The letter is further proof. As if he needed it.

His blue eyes begin perusing the letter… his mouth goes dry as Marlena’s words leap off the page, her voice fills his ears and her message starts to sink in…

Isabella,

I donít even know where to begin.

You are the woman who saved Roman from the depths of despair when he needed someone the most and loved my children as her own.

For that, I owe you gratitude.

You are also the woman who now occupies Roman’s heart and mind.

It is no secret that I love him. With all my heart, I love him.

And for that, I owe myself his happiness.

Marlena.

It is with the same sense of urgency Marlena summoned the elevator earlier, that Roman now impatiently presses the elevator button again and again; the only difference being that she couldn’t wait for the elevator to take her further away from him; he now waits for it to take him a step closer to her…

*****

Marlena has walked up these few steps and found herself at this particular door many a time in the past when seeking counsel. She isn’t sure she is making the right decision but she will soon find out. After pressing down on the door bell, she wraps her arms around herself to ward off the chilly air and leans tiredly against the door frame while she waits for that familiar face, for the comforting smile of an old and dear friend, to appear.

Alice Horton hurries to her front door and pulls it open to reveal a very weary looking Marlena.

“Marlena dear!” she exclaims pleasantly surprised.

Marlena offers the older woman a weak smile, “hi, Alice.” She hesitates, “I just… needed someone to talk to,” her voice a little unsteady. “Do you have a few minutes for a friend?” she asks, her eyes growing big.

Alice gives her an admonishing look, “I always have time for you, you know that! Come on in.” She gestures for Marlena to walk through.

“Thank you.” Alice closes the door behind her, her brow furrowing in concern.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Marlena walks into the living room looking around in wonderment. Nothing has changed in the Horton home in the five years she’s been gone. She feels instantly at ease because there is no constant reminder that her family and friends have moved on. Oh, there are more recent photos on the mantel piece including those of Shawn Douglas, the newest addition to the family, but these are all happy occasions; Reasons to smile, right? Until she considers the fact that she wasn’t there to share in those moments with the people she loves.

“Time sure goes on, without you doesn’t it?” she whispers almost inaudibly, miserably.

Alice steps up behind the younger woman and places a comforting hand on her, having an inkling of where this is headed.

“Did something happen with Roman?” she ventures carefully.

Marlena stares blankly ahead as a lone tear trickles down her cheek. She covers Alice’s hand with her own causing the woman to shiver slightly from its deathly coolness. With a vice-like grip she holds on for dear life as she speaks her next few words with a hollowness that frightens Alice…

“I left Roman.”

*****

“Doc?” Roman calls for her as he jiggles the keys to remove them from the door.

Nothing but silence.

In a few quick strides he is in the kitchen. “Doc, are you in here?”

There is no Marlena.

He takes the steps two at a time and heads for the bedroom only to find both the bedroom and bathroom doors open.

Still no sign of Marlena.

Panic unfurls in his gut as he runs back down the stairs and his eyes fall upon an envelope tilted against the lamp on the coffee table.

Roman, it says, in her elegant handwriting.

With heavy feet he walks towards the offending article. Feeling sick to his stomach he picks it up and begins to read…

Fuck, he says, in his most eloquent articulation.

Though spindly with fingers gnarled like the limbs of an ancient Oak tree, the hand which now rests comfortingly on Marlena’s shoulder, entreating her to come and sit down, is effeminate, warm and possesses remarkable strength; Alice Horton has guided and carried many of her loved ones through the most difficult of times over the years. Marlena qualifies as one of those whom Alice loves dearly.

“Everything will be alright, dear. Come sit,” Alice leads Marlena towards the couch. Noticing for the first time how thin the younger woman has become since her return, Alice is mindful with her hands propped supportively, yet hesitantly against Marlena’s back, as though she is made of fine porcelain.

“I’ll be right back,” Alice issues before walking away as if on a mission.

Moments later, Alice reappears with a plate full of her homemade donuts and places them strategically and suggestively on the coffee table before Marlena. If it werenít for the spicy scent of cinnamon wafting past Marlena’s nose, she wouldn’t have noticed. Sizing up the mountain of sugar coated delicacies in front of her, Marlena smiles to herself, oh Alice, subtlety was never your forte.

Handing Marlena a donut on a serviette, Alice takes a seat next to her and chuckles lightly, “now, my hearing isn’t what it used to be, but I could have sworn you just said…”

“I left Roman,” Marlena states cutting Alice off, her voice somewhat distant. “I left him,” she repeats turning away, her voice cracking as the enormity of her own words sinks in. Blinking back tears, Marlena swipes away those that have managed to escape.

Alice doesn’t know what to say as she considers Marlena for a long moment. The familiar spark in her eyes and the fight that always lay just beneath the surface are well and truly gone. In Alice’s own very astute assessment, her dear friend seems resigned, beaten, tired. In fact, she doesn’t recall ever seeing Marlena like this before. No, not even when Roman fell to his supposed death all those years ago. Of course, Marlena has been through the tortures of the damned in the last five years and nobody, not even a person as strong as she, can be expected to survive something like that without serious emotional scarring. But for Alice, there is more to the devastation she sees in Marlena right now. Confiding the same only in her very own soulmate, Tom Horton, Alice has always believed that Roman and Marlena’s connection was stronger since Roman’s return – from the very moment John Black stepped into Marlena’s life. Alice couldn’t quite put her finger on it; what it was about Roman and Marlena the second time around that made them so different, so special… so desperate and made for each other. Tom’s theory, his dogged championing of the time old adage, absence makes the heart grow fonder, was too simple an explanation for Alice. While plausible, she didn’t buy it. She just knew that if anything happened to either one of them it would destroy the other. She was proven right when Roman thought he lost Marlena to the temper of the raging seas; he was never the same again – not even when graced with Isabella’s love. And looking at Marlena now, Alice sees the same hollowness she saw in Roman then. It does not surprise her. Her mind however is reeling, struggling to process Marlena’s words and the thought that she could ever willingly give up on him.

“I must admit, I am a little confused. You can’t possibly mean…”

“I have set him free to be with the woman he loves,” Marlena clarifies, fiddling with the edges of the serviette in her lap as the donut sits on top, long forgotten.

Alice could have sworn that is who she has been comforting all this time; the woman Roman loves. “And you think that woman is…” she probes, having a very good inkling where Marlena is headed with this.

“Isabella,” Marlena states evenly, offering Alice a wan smile. “As hard as that may be for me to accept, Alice, Isabella is the woman Roman wants.”

Alice’s snow-white eyebrow arches in puzzlement. “You mean to say that Roman is okay with this? This is *his* decision?” she questions, dubiously. While Roman is having a difficult time dealing with Marlena’s return and what it means for his relationship with Isabella, Alice cannot imagine him ever letting Marlena go.

Tucking a wispy strand of hair behind her ear Marlena averts her eyes, “not exactly. Roman doesn’t know it yet, but that decision has been taken out of his hands.”

Alice’s response is immediate. “Is that fair, dear?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t bear this pain anymore.” Marlena’s voice is thick with anguish; her eyes are bright with unshed tears.

“The Marlena I know would never give up; especially not on Roman,” Alice states with a conviction that twinkles in her blue eyes.

Marlena smiles sadly. Alice always did have unbridled faith in her. “I’m not sure the Marlena you know exists anymore,” she confesses quietly.  Pressing her lips together, she looks up sheepishly and shrugs, “I haven’t handled this situation with Roman very well.”

“I donít know how you expect yourself to handle this very difficult situation at all, dear.”Marlena always was particularly hard on herself, Alice knows that. She allows her patients the privilege of being human but refuses to grant herself the same reprieve; it’s a double standard Marlena readily owns.

“I just… I need him so badly, Alice,” her breath quickens, hitching in her throat as her emotions threaten to overwhelm her.  Marlena stops, leaning her elbow on her knee and pressing her thumb and forefinger against her eyelids to interrupt the flow of tears. “I don’t know what to do with these feelings I have for him still. They are as intense as they were five years ago,” she continues, allowing the frustration and anger she feels for herself, to colour her tone. “Iíve tried so hard to get him out of my mind, out of my heart… out of my soul.”

“Time has stood still for you, Marlena. You are in love with him as much as you were the last time you ever saw him. You can’t just switch those feelings off overnight,” if ever, Alice thinks to herself.

“For Roman five years have passed. Our love is in the past and he has moved on. He will never stop caring for me, I know that. But he is in love with somebody else now.”

“The time may have passed Marlena, but Roman’s love for you hasn’t.”

Marlena appreciates the faith Alice has in their love and wishes she could be just as confident, but she shakes her head no. “He hasnít said it.”

“Hasn’t said what, dear?”

“That he loves me.” Marlena puts her finger to her lips, swallows hard and closes her eyes as hot tears form parallel streams down her smooth cheeks. Alice can only squeeze Marlena’s hand as Marlena struggles to control her breathing. To say anything right now would be inappropriate. She just hopes Marlena knows that she and Tom will be there for her no matter what.

After a few minutes, Marlena speaks. “Alice…” she bites her lip struggling to get her next words out, “was he… is, is he truly happy and in love with Isabella?”

“Yes.”

Marlena nods, her jaw setting tightly as she purses her lips, in an attempt to compose herself and to appear unaffected. “Okay, as long as that is true, I have done the right thing,” she says looking shattered all the same.

“Don’t misconstrue my words Marlena, dear.  He loves Isabella. You know that Roman would never have asked her to marry him if he didn’t.”

Marlena interrupts Alice, unable to handle too many hard-hitting truths in one hit, “Alice, I appreciate your honest…”

“Now, let me finish,” she chides teasingly. “He loves Isabella… And he was happy enough with her,” Alice pauses, waiting for Marlena’s tearful, yet soulful eyes to look up and meet her own, before trailing off wistfully… “as happy as this man could ever be in a world without you in it.”

With that declaration, Marlena inhales sharply, trying desperately to stifle a sob. She doesn’t want to go there; she doesn’t want to get swept up in Alice’s reassurances but at the same time, she cannot resist the gravitational pull of Alice’s words which keep her clinging to the idea that she and Roman may have a future after all. Maybe, just maybe…

Just as Alice thinks she may have gotten through to Marlena, the sudden shrill sound of the telephone ringing startles them both, distracting Alice and extinguishing the tiny spark of hope within Marlena.

Alice scurries to the phone, as fast as her light feet will carry her.

“Hello?” she greets the caller in her gravelly voice.

“Alice, it’s me. Roman.” Alice turns to look at Marlena who is picking at the hapless donut in her lap and smiles. She knew it wouldn’t be too long before he came looking for her.

“Roman.”

At the mention of his name, Marlena’s head snaps up as her eyes growing big.

“I am looking for Marlena, is she there?” He sounds desperate, the poor thing, and Alice’s heart breaks for him.

“She’s right here, dear. One moment.” Alice holds the receiver out, gesturing for Marlena to come to the phone.

She sighs in sadness when Marlena silently refuses to speak with him. “I’m sorry, Roman. She just needs some time.”

“I understand.” He pauses. “Alice?”

“Yes dear?”

“Tell her I…” Roman stops.

“Yes?” Alice smiles to herself, knowing what he wants and is trying so desperately to say and waiting for the moment he will be able to tell the woman he loves how he truly feels.

“I,” he fumbles, “I’ll call her tomorrow…”

I’ll let her know. Goodnight, Roman.”

*****

“Goodnight,” he says to nobody in particular as he is met with the dull tone of a disconnected line. Roman drops the receiver over the phone haphazardly, not caring that it has actually missed the hook.

Focusing on the letter he still holds firmly within his grasp, his eyes travel over Marlena’s words again and again…

Roman,

The time has come to make the decision that up until now has held our family at ransom – our marriage, our life together and my love for you, in exchange for your happiness and my children’s happiness. I can live with that. I know you are scared but I can be brave enough to make that decision for the both of us.

What I can’t do is go on living like this, or expect you to do the same because of some misguided sense of obligation you may have for me because of a past life we shared and a love that you once felt for me.

You asked me at the motel, remember, “what about you?” You had Isabella waiting at home for you; waiting to embark on a new life with you and our babies. I told you that if it were up to me I would have you stay with me all night just so I could look at you. That has not changed. If it were up to me I would hold onto you forever and never let you go. But we both know this is so much bigger than me, Roman. It’s about our children and it’s about you. And I have seen the way you look at her and the way our children respond to her… I refuse to compete with that for the sole reason that I couldn’t bear it if I hurt the three of you anymore than you have already been hurt. The children need stability in their life, and you need the woman you love by your side.

I have decided to give you that. You deserve that much, baby. You’ve lost so much in your life and all I want for you is to be happy. I know she makes you and the children happy and I could never deny you that.

The children are with your parents for the night, and I am going to take Alice up on her offer and stay with her and Tom for a short while. I can’t stay away from Sami and Eric, Roman. I need them just as much as they need me. I just need some time to process all of this myself and to make some arrangements for us.

I love you.

Marlena.

It’s a moment of pure rage and utter devastation, where his soul cries out in protest against Marlena’s truth; against the words that have scored the thin paper he holds, in much the same way they have scored his heart, and in one fell swoop Roman grabs a hold of the nearest thing he can find, lobbing it with force against the nearest wall. His eyes are brilliant blue and wild as they witness the precise moment of impact where delicately fine crystal shatters in slow motion, with disturbing intensity.

Somewhere deep inside he revels in the sick, sadistic pleasure he derives from the cacophonous sound of destruction assaulting his ears.  Spurred on by the adrenaline coursing through his veins, in a split second and with lightening fast speed, he repeats his earlier movements collecting a second object, the counterpart to and identical twin set of the first casualty, and delivers it to the wall with the same devastating fate…

Their love, in the form of two crystal wine goblets, now lies in ruins.

It’s a moment of pure clarity, where his mind’s fog clears and Roman finds himself towering over his victims.  Even in their miserable, fragile state, they twinkle up at him proudly.

The glass crunches beneath him as he falls unceremoniously to his knees.

What have I done?

*****

Darkness has fallen on this cold, cold night, and the clouds shrouding the moon cast an eerie shadow across the two-storey Horton residence. The wind howls ominously, rushing through the thick branches of the twisted and towering Oak tree, giving its claw-like limbs menacing life as they scratch and tap against the upstairs window summoning the sleeping beauty inside to the darkness.

She follows, allowing herself to be drawn into its foreboding depths; her head thrashing violently from side to side on the pillow that is now drenched in a mixture of cold sweat and salty tears; sudden, swift, sharp movements threatening to snap her neck. Her breathing is laboured and uneven as she fights the dark demons pervading her subconscious. They come quickly enough, like pure evil running roughshod over her, bruising and wounding her body and soul in ways one cannot even begin to comprehend…

An eerie stillness fills the room but for the restless occupant lying in the darkness atop the queen-size bed.

She tosses and turns agitatedly, erratically, causing the cumbersome comforter to slide off her lithe body and onto the carpeted floor. Her long toned legs, still tangled in the suffocating bed sheet, struggle frantically to rid themselves of the cotton restraint that has transformed itself into something menacing, taking on a life of its own and becoming all too real in her subconscious mind…

The rusty shackle slices jaggedly through her already bruised Achilles tendon causing a thin, even, crimson trail of blood to trickle down her ankle. At the tearing of her flesh she whimpers miserably, giving into the sharp metal and ceasing to strain against it.

Marlena’s legs now remain still.

It is not long before an excruciating moan escapes her lips. She arches her long, graceful neck, and stretches painfully against the pillow. “NO!” she screams. Her body is taut as it bows against the mattress, and a light sheen of sweat covers her forehead as the memories continue their assault in her sleep…

“Don’t fight this, Marlena.”

He is close. Too close. She feels it; the slightest prick in her upper arm creates incredible pressure that radiates through to surrounding muscle. Cool poison, like ice water, fills her veins. She cries out softly as he whispers triumphantly through gritted teeth, “you have nothing left. You *won’t* win.”

She is numb, paralysed – her limbs are disconnected. Everything is fuzzy; one moment she is weightless, floating on thin air and the next she feels her body lurch forward abruptly as though on a rollercoaster that has come to a screeching halt. Two hands have gripped her upper arms, tightening around them like a vice and lifting her entire body from the cold floor. As her body jolts forward, they pin her up, causing her head to roll back. Her ragged frame is drenched in sweat and hangs as though propped on a coat hanger; drugged, listless, lifeless.

“STAND UP!” his hateful voice booms, bouncing off the four concrete walls; the foul stench of his breath hits her square in the face.

She cowers at the command; it churns her stomach and makes her hypersensitive ears bleed. But she is not afraid. She is already broken. He breaks her every day.

He maintains her dead weight effortlessly, holding her in an upright position by the arms as her legs dangle beneath her. Having refused to eat since her incarceration, there is barely anything left but skin and bone.

Her beautiful face, now marred with fresh lacerations and abrasions, is wet with tears. She whispers urgently through dry, cracked lips as she rolls her head forward, “please…”

He chortles, “PLEASE? Please *what*, Marlena?”

“Please. Don… don’t take her from me. She’s all I have left,” Marlena mumbles as her head continues to bow against the pillow before suddenly and swiftly snapping to the left. She cries out. Her right cheek burns with the memory; phantom pain – it’s the unmistakable blow of the back of a man’s heavy, unforgiving hand…

He brings his right arm across the front of his massive chest and with sickening precision, he unleashes all of his wrath onto Marlena. Swiftly, remorselessly, his fat knuckles thrash her delicate face, fracturing her cheekbone with a jarring ‘crack’ that brings bitter bile even to his throat. The inside of her cheek smashes against her teeth, rupturing, pulsating and stinging – swelling instantaneously. Blood, thick and warm with the taste of liquid copper, fills her mouth.

Deriving sick gratification from the picture of weakness before him, he speaks, securing his grip on her and rubbing salt further into her wounds, “DON’T you ever speak of her again! She is gone, Marlena. Get used to it.”

Defiance – that is what he sees in her fiery hazel eyes when she finally gathers the strength to look up at him from beneath long, dark lashes and dishevelled blonde tresses.

It thrills him; makes his groin twitch.

She struggles for a breath. It hurts to breathe – like a knife slicing her insides. Her lip is split and an angry bruise is beginning to develop near her right eye in shades of purple-grey.

Distracted by her fierce beauty he is taken completely by surprise when she spits at him in disgust. It takes all the strength she has left.

Marlena’s voice is faint but laden with years of pain and utter loathing for this man, “hhh..ate you.”   She means it.

Humiliated, he drops her.

She falls to the cold, hard, unforgiving concrete like an unstrung marionette. “Uuhh!”

Wiping the blood and saliva off his face, he considers her for a moment. He is barely able to conceal or contain his fury as he watches her continue to writhe pitifully on the floor; fighting the drugs, the pain – never giving up, never giving in. Subconsciously always fighting for what he has taken from her.

And then a feral grin forms on the face of this deranged, depraved monster as he realises the final word is always his…

Marlena learns this lesson the hard way when he pummels her in the stomach with the steel cap of his boot.

She gasps for air and curls into a ball as the pain sears her.

She does not hear him issuing her guard with orders. Nor does she see the abject horror on the guard’s face as he silently asks God to give him strength and forgive him for what he is about to do to her.

Blotches of blinding white light flicker beneath her closed eyelids before the Lord has mercy and everything turns black…

Marlena’s breathing eventually slows as her body relaxes against the mattress; unmoving, deathly still. The only clue that she is still alive is the small puff of hot air that escapes her parted lips and turns a cloudy white as it encounters the cold atmosphere surrounding her.

Her skin starts to turn to gooseflesh. Her entire body is overcome by uncontrollable shivering. It’s cold, so cold, and she’s now gasping for air and screaming for help but… there is no sound.

Gigantic waves crash violently around her, pushing her under, deeper and deeper each time. She is overwhelmed with panic when she realises she cannot match their strength. No matter how hard she claws at the water or thrashes her aching limbs against its surface, she finds no leverage and she is dragged beneath again and again. The roaring in her ears is deafening. Her lungs burn from oxygen deprivation and the inevitable intrusion of salt water chokes her as she is forced to swallow it. Desperately clinging onto life, she can do no more than simply gasp for air despite knowing that there is no air to be had – Just water that drowns her lungs until they bleed. A heavy burden descends on her chest, as though it has been punctured. Her eyes bulge from the pressure as blood pounds incessantly behind them and the surrounding water tightens the invisible noose around her neck. She is helpless, desperate. She has to stop fighting the inevitable and just let the water in. And she does. Her tears become the ocean. The ocean slowly kills her…

Marlena sits bolt upright on the bed. Her fear finds its voice when a blood curdling scream escapes her lips. She remains trapped in the dream as her tears wet her parched tongue. The saltiness only serves to simulate and perpetuate her nightmare.

Awakened and frightened by the sound, Tom and Alice rush to Marlena’s room, swinging the door open and switching on the light, only to find Marlena sitting up on the bed grasping at her throat with both hands.

“C-canít breathe, so… c-c-cold.”

Alice is by her side immediately and with a tentative touch, she takes Marlena’s hands and holds them in her own, “Marlena??”

Marlena is unresponsive, catatonic even, as she maintains a rigid pose and stares blankly ahead.

Tom checks her pulse and looks on worriedly as Alice continues to try to coax Marlena out of her nightmare.

Nothing.

Alice’s blue eyes are filled with love and concern, “Tom, you need to call Roman. Please, first help me with the comforter, her body is frozen to the touch.”

Tom helps his wife as she lifts the comforter from the floor and places it around Marlena.

I’ll be right back,” he says as he disappears out the bedroom door to make the call…

Living under the ominous cloud of his missing years, and especially without Marlena, his pillar, was never an easy thing for Roman. Rarely, if ever, did dreamless, or at the very least, peaceful sleep claim him. In fact, prior to arriving in Salem, he didn’t know such a thing existed.

The first time he’d ever had a good night’s sleep was, ironically, while on the run from Victor and the KGB in West Virginia. On their first night at the hotel he was going to be a gentleman and let Marlena have the bed. Denying his strong attraction to her, he started preparing his make-shift pallet and tossing pillows onto the floor. That was when the gorgeous and considerate lady doctor suggested they share. She had no idea what she was asking of him; what it was doing to him, to have her body so close and yet so far. But that night, as they shared a bed, he felt safe and at peace; like he’d done this, with her, in another lifetime.

Then it happened again, on the dusty floor of a cave no less; not the most comfortable of places to sleep, to be sure, but he had her in his arms and that was all that mattered; all he could think about was how he could get used to this.

And then she took him into her home, into her heart and into her bed. His restless soul had never been so at peace despite the gaping holes in his memory… that is, until he believed she was lost to him forever. The restless nights began anew.

Isabella thought she knew him well; Roman, the light sleeper. For as long as she slept beside him, this was true. She revelled in knowing what she believed were the finer, more intimate details of her man. But the truth is, she only knew as much as he wanted her to know; and more often than not, it wasn’t the real Roman. Roman, at his most vulnerable, only ever trusted one person enough to reveal his true self and for better or worse the most intimate parts of him would always belong to her.

So, tonight, with his arms wrapped tight around her again, he sleeps soundly for the first time in a very long time.

Her heart thrums against his chest, its steady beat lulling him into a sense of security, of familiarity, false as it may be. He can smell her fragrant blonde hair, feel the smooth bulbs of her naked breasts pressed up against him. His fingertips are well acquainted with the curve of her back as they trace their way down and wander over two perfectly rounded buttocks. With legs spread to either side of one of his, her wet, bristly warmth is pressed against the top of his thigh, both validating and stimulating his manhood…

However, she is not real. She is a figment of his most ardent desires, but in reality, nothing more than a mere five year old memory trapped beneath glass and confined to a 6 x 8 inch wooden frame that he now clutches against his chest as he sleeps. If only he could find the courage to tell her how much he wants to hold her like this for real and forever.

He thought he could live with just the memories and maintain his distance while knowing she exists somewhere in this world, but it’s not enough. These memories haunt him every single hour of every single day, and beckon him to take her by the hand and re-live them; to become a complete, whole person…

She once told him she would do anything to make him feel complete. He couldn’t believe she didn’t already know… Doc, you make me complete; you make me feel alive and loved, and now that you’re back, my life is worth living again.

He is starting to realise that those words are as true today as they were five years ago, when he spoke them; when he bore his soul to her.

Roman stirs on the couch, gradually coming to consciousness. Somewhere in that space between sleep and wake he can hear what sounds like pounding on the door. Although he fights it, the noise pulls him further out of his slumber, loosening what little grip he has on her; on genuine sleep.

As he becomes more and more aware of his surroundings, the pounding becomes louder and clearer. He can hear someone calling his name and as the sleepy haze begins to wear off, what he thinks is Marlena’s firm nipple pressed against his chest, becomes a disappointing rock-hard and pointy reality…

His eyes snap open. It’s the corner of the photo frame digging into him.

Oh yes, he’s awake now. Damn it.

Tossing the photo frame aside he sighs in complete and utter frustration. As his wide eyes dart around, searching the darkened living room, he seems to recall being awakened by noise.

The coarse stubble on his face rustles like sandpaper as he rubs his hand across his jaw line in consternation, I must be going out of my fucking mind.

“Roman!!!”

There it is again.

Startled, Roman jumps up off the couch and almost trips over the rug in the dark. “Shit!”

As he turns on the lamp and makes his way to the door the knocking persists.

“Who is it??” he asks, fumbling with the lock and security chain.

“Roman, it’s Tom. Please, open the door!î”

Roman pulls the door open to be met with a gush of frigid wind and to find Tom Horton standing on the front porch looking quite anxious and frenetic for a man, a doctor no less, who is always very composed, stoic even. The ferocious wind has tackled his signature comb-over so that what little of his grey hair is left is standing in all sorts of gravity-defying directions, while his large square-framed prescription glasses rest unevenly on the bridge of his nose. If Tom’s demeanour weren’t so serious, his dishevelled appearance might even be comical.

“Tom??” It finally dawns on Roman… the man is still in his pyjamas and robe and it is dark outside too. What time is it??

Roman doesn’t have a chance to invite the elderly man in before he starts, slightly out of breath, “I tried calling you, but your phone was engaged.” Tom’s expression is grave.

“Did something happen? What is it?” He doesn’t know why he is asking. Deep down in his gut, he knows and his heart leaps to his throat, “Marlena?”

“You must come quickly…”

Roman doesn’t need to be told twice.

*****

It’s like every other night he comes rushing to her room.

Marlena is sitting on the bed with her back up against the headboard, hugging her legs tightly to her chest as she rocks back and forth, looking so very lost, alone and frightened. Her thick blonde hair is messy, her eyes are puffy, her cheeks stained with tears, and a loose t-shirt bunched up around the tops of her thighs hangs off her bare shoulder.

His sigh of relief is audible – physically, at least, she is okay… And God help him, she still takes his breath away.

“Doc? Sweetheart?”

Alice turns toward the door to see Roman making a beeline for Marlena.

“Oh Roman, thank heavens, you’re here…” Barely here, anyway.

Judging by his tired blue eyes, Alice presumes he has had about as much sleep as his wife. And if Alice is anything, she is perceptive. Nothing gets by her; not even the stark-white bandage that is stained with blood and wrapped awkwardly around Roman’s right hand. So engrossed is he in Marlena, that he doesn’t even realise how bad it looks when he raises his fingertips to touch her face.

Alice gasps at the sight, “Roman, youíre bleeding, dear!”

Marlena shrinks away from him and he drops his hand in defeat. “I cut myself while cleaning up some glass. It’s nothing, really.” Nothing? Really?  Is that how I am going to explain it to Marlena? Honey, I smashed our wine goblets, but it’s nothing. Really.

“How long has she been like this?” Roman asks pointedly, changing the subject. He sits as close to Marlena as she will allow, while his eyes rove her body, checking for any sign that she may have physically hurt herself while struggling with the ghost demons of her past. It wouldn’t be the first time; a few red welts, a bruise here and there. He aches to touch her.

“She must have been dreaming for a while. Her screams…” Alice recalls, clearly shaken, “they were chilling, Roman.”

Roman doesn’t respond. He knows. He can’t forget the harrowing sounds as he held her trembling body.

“By the time we got to her room the screams had stopped. She could barely breathe and her body was so cold. She has been completely unresponsive for the last couple of minutes.”

“I checked her vitals, and they appear to be fine, Roman,” Tom adds entering the bedroom. He watches on as Roman treads carefully around Marlena, mindful not to touch her while gently encouraging her to come back to him. And it finally dawns on Tom… “How long has this been going on, Roman?” he asks a little more sternly than he intends. It is borne from fatherly concern, for them both.

Roman exhales, shoulders slumped with the weight of the world, his voice low, “since the first night I brought her home with me.”

Both Tom and Alice wear identical expressions of shock. But despite herself, Alice gives Tom a meaningful glance, this is not the time to admonish him for not seeking our help.

Roman’s fear for Marlena is palpable; etched in every line on his ruggedly handsome face; emanating from every fibre of his being. He used to think there could be nothing worse than not knowing what went on in his past, but he was wrong. There is – having to watch her experience the same thing; witnessing her terror as her subconscious reveals to her, bit by agonising bit, what she has endured.

Tom opens his mouth to speak, but from the corner of his eye, he sees Alice; his wife – a force to be reckoned with. She doesn’t have to say a word, her commanding presence is enough.  He can just feel her eyes burning a hole right through him as she sets her foot down, “we’ll be downstairs if you need us, dear.”

Roman nods, never taking his eyes off Marlena.

Tom is smart enough to know when he has lost the battle and makes his way to the bedroom door.

Before closing the door behind her, Alice looks on, silently observing them; especially him and how attentive he is with her. Marlena couldn’t be more mistaken, she thinks to herself. There is not a man in this world who loves a woman as much as this man loves her. Secure in this knowledge, and in the fact that Marlena is now in very good hands, Alice pulls the door shut.

Alone now, Roman speaks softly to her, “baby, I need you to come out of this. You’re safe and no one can hurt you anymore.” Except me, he concedes, ruefully.

There are no signs of acknowledgment from Marlena – her hazel eyes are like impenetrable glass.

Maybe she doesn’t believe your bullshit anymore than you do, Roman. That’s one smart woman you got there… and one smart ass of an inner conscience.

Finally, when he reaches out to touch her quivering body, she flinches noticeably, hissing the words, “*donít* touch me!”

Pulling his hands back as though electrocuted, he holds them up in plain sight, “okay, I promise, I won’t touch you, baby, just please wake up now and come back to me.”

Her response is not immediate, but when she finally speaks, her muffled whisper cuts through him like a knife, “you hurt me.”

“Doc, I…” He wishes she would just let him reach out to wipe away her tears.

“You took everything from me.” Plain and simple.

The indictment throws him a little, but faced with it, he has no adequate defence. And God only knows how ashamed he feels for causing her so much pain. The enormous guilt he carries where she is concerned blinds him to what is really going on. Marlena is still so deeply caught up in her dream; her accusations are not directed at him, no matter how strongly he feels he deserves them.  

“I’m so sorry, you don’t know how so…”

“You took my children, my babies.” Her eyes close, anguish written all over her face, “you took Roman.”

What?? He suddenly realises, she has no idea who he is. “Doc, no, I’m here. It’s me, Roman.”

At the sound of his voice, she turns towards him ever so slowly, her eyes scanning him over, in wonderment. Her trembling hand rises, long elegant fingers extended to touch his face, “no, no, it can’t be, you’re dead,” her breathing quickens and she becomes more and more agitated. Her head begins to shake, ‘no’ as she backs away from him. “You’re not real! Please, no more drugs!”

Roman acts swiftly, reaching for her as she starts to thrash her arms against him, trying to ward him off while screaming and crying repeatedly, “no more! Don’t hurt me! Give her back to me!!”

Breathless from the exertion, Roman manages to engulf her in his arms as he promises her over and over that he will not hurt her, that he is really her husband, and that she is safe. He rocks her body with his arms wrapped securely around her, crooning to her until the mournful sounds coming from her die.

Minutes later, he feels the slight pressure of her hand on his arm accompanied by her meek voice, “Roman? Is that really you?” She is almost afraid to hope…

He closes his eyes and lets the relief wash over him as he feels her grip tighten desperate to know, “It’s really me, baby.”

“Oh God!” she cries and cries into his shirt until there are no more tears.

They hold each other in silence for a long while; an excuse really, to do what their hearts have wanted to do since he left her all alone at the flea bag motel that fateful night.  They allowed guilt and perceived dictates of right and wrong, what’s ‘best’ for everybody else, stop them from being where they really wanted to be – he, at the flea bag motel with his wife, and she, in his arms. Instead, he went home to his fiancè, leaving his heart and his mind with Marlena.

Now this is his apology.

Now, for a moment in time, behind these four walls and in this bed, there is no Isabella; there are no wrongs, there is only Roman and Marlena. And he holds her like there is no tomorrow – like he should have held her the night she returned to him.

Tilting her head back, he brings his mouth towards hers until he is so close that they now breathe the same air. Their eyes close; their minds spin from delirium; their lips inch closer and closer…

As their lips inch closer and closer together, both Roman and Marlena are filled with breathless anticipation. With their eyes closed, it feels like their lips might never meet.

Just as Roman’s lips are about to brush over hers ever so lightly, there is a soft knock on the door.

Alice’s muffled voice carries through the solid timber, “Roman?”

At the intrusion, their eye-lids open simultaneously. Their noses are almost touching as they stare intently into each other’s lust-filled eyes.

“Roman, is everything alright, dear?”

It is with no little regret that Roman watches Marlena as she slips out of his arms. The spell is broken.

He sighs, resting his head back against the headboard. “Yeah, come on in, Alice.”

Alice sticks her head in the door, “I just wanted to make sure Marlena is okay.”

Marlena smiles, slightly embarrassed to have caused such a disturbance, “I’m fine Alice, thank you.”

“I am glad. Tom and I are going back to bed.” She pauses awkwardly before offering, “you are welcome to stay, Roman.”

“We’ll see,” he replies, looking straight at Marlena who doesn’t seem too thrilled by the idea. “Thank you, Alice, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, you two.”

And with that, they are left alone.

Roman sits at the head of the bed watching Marlena who now sits off to the side with one leg up on the bed while twisting the other nervously into the carpet. She holds a pillow over her lap to preserve her modesty but her shapely thigh remains partially exposed. She won’t look at him.

“Doc, what are you doing all the way over there? Come back to bed.” He pats the empty space beside him.

“You shouldn’t be here, Roman.” She hates feeling so weak, so needy. I don’t need you, she protests, knowing the opposite is true.

“You shouldn’t be wearing my t-shirt,” he jokes, the mere fact not lost on him. It gives him a little bit of hope and makes his stomach flip flop.

She looks down and then back up at him regretfully, his lightheartedness lost on her, I needed to feel close to you. “I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t expecting her to take him seriously. “Don’t be. It always did look much better on you,” he states as a matter of fact, unable to hide his cheeky grin… and then off you.

Marlena shifts uncomfortably and remains silent.

He clears his throat and gets serious, “look, Doc, we need to talk about what just happened here tonight.”

“No, no we don’t.” She is resolute. The thought of reliving that again, terrifies her. There are fragments that still linger in her mind, that physically wind her and make her heart stop. She is sick of feeling victimised and just wants to move on with her life.

“I beg to differ.”

“I can and will manage these things on my own, Roman.” She hates to say it, but she has to hurt him, to make him angry, to leave the issue well enough alone. Biting her lip, Marlena hesitates for but a moment before dealing the harsh blow, “I don’t need you.”

Come on, Doc, you don’t really mean that, do you? Searching for the slightest hint of uncertainty in her tone and demeanour, he comes up empty. She doesn’t seem to want to recant. “*Look* at me. Please, Doc.” No matter how hard he tries to hide it, he is wounded by her words. Selfish as it may be, he wants her to always, always need him. He needs her to need him.

Marlena’s eyes remain trained on the floor. She can’t stand to see the look in his eyes as she tells him, “you can’t keep rushing to my aid, pretending as though…”

“As though what? I care? I do *care*, Marlena.” It works. His words are laced with deep hurt and confusion.

“That’s not what I meant. I know how much you care about me. But we have to stop pretending. We’re not…” she pauses and focuses on her toe as she draws imaginary circles on the plush carpet pile.

“We’re not what?” He is petrified of what she is going to say more than anything.

“Together. We’re not together anymore,” she issues in a small voice. “You are my husband on paper…” and in my heart. “A minor technicality that’s easily fixed.”

“Please don’t talk like that, Marlena.” It tears him up inside. While he is aware of how his indecision has hurt her and made her doubt his love for her and their future, he is only just starting to realise how that feels; to have someone else calling the shots.

“It’s not something we can avoid, Roman,” she states sadly.

“Like your dreams, you mean?”

“I donít remember a thing,” she snaps defensively. The lies come quickly and easily. The alternative is just too painful.

“That’s not what I asked you. And for the record, I don’t believe you.”

“Well, you don’t have a choice in the matter,” the confidence in her voice waivers momentarily and Roman can see she is desperately struggling with it; barely hanging on by a thread. “You should leave now,” she warns, throwing the pillow aside to get up off the bed.

But before she can move from her position, Roman gets up suddenly and kneels at her feet, with one hand firmly placed on the top of her bare thigh, keeping her there. It’s too late before he realises what he has just done. Touching her always has consequences – for them both.

Marlena swallows hard. Just the thought of his hands on her body disarms her. Her eyes travel over its masculine contours, juxtaposed against her feminine, shapely, thigh. She loves these hands; their power, their protection. She knows them, right down to the fine lines of their fingertips. They are her lover’s hands – so gentle for being so large, so warm for being so assured. They belong to a man who has carnal knowledge of her; they have explored every inch of her body, and ventured so deep inside her; brought her to a spine-shattering climax over and over again, eliciting sounds from her she did not know she was capable of making. The thought that they have strayed, that another woman has felt their caress, drives her wild. They belong to him to do with as he pleases, but they have touched her in ways that no one else will… they belong to her.

Lost in her rumination, and not consciously aware of what she is doing, Marlena places her dainty hand over his giant paw, tracing her fingers lightly over his.  Above all else, this hand once bore the ultimate symbol of their commitment to one another. Soon, he will be wearing someone else’s ring and the thought kills her and confuses her… What are you doing here Roman and what do you want from me?

Roman watches on as she reacts to his touch. He doesn’t expect her fleeting caress and barely has a chance to revel in it before she snatches her hand away as though she has been burnt.

With his right hand, he tilts her chin so that she looks up and directly into his eyes.

For the first time, she notices the bandage on his hand. Unable to bear the thought of him being hurt, she reaches up with both hands and gently cradles his. Her eyes soften as she inspects the bloody mess, “honey, what happened to you??” She can’t help the endearment anymore than she can help caring about him. “Let me take a look at this.”

As she attempts to unwrap the bandage, he pulls his hand away from her. “It’s nothing, Doc.” He does not want to deflect from the real issue at hand; her and these nightmares. “I know what you are trying to do, Marlena. I am not going *anywhere* until you talk to me.”

At that declaration, her jaw sets tight and in her eyes he sees the feisty Dr. Evans he fell in love with at University Hospital. Oh, she’s pissed. And he secretly enjoys ruffling her feathers and getting a reaction out of her.

Hot tears sting her eyes, her anger and frustration having reached boiling point. He still gets under her skin after all these years. She is reminded of his stupid sign in & sign out sheet, and how he just wouldnít leave the damn thing well enough alone, until she signed it. He still has that same stubborn streak when it comes to protecting her.

And that is all he is trying to do right now; protect her. But she won’t have a bar of it. Aside from anything else, it plays with her mind. He can’t not want to share his life with her and still expect to be entitled to play the role of her protective husband.

And yet, she can’t deny the anguish in those brilliant blue eyes as they look up at her, or the plea in his voice as he whispers, “let me help you, baby.”

It’s her undoing. As she crumples into a heap before him, he picks her up and sets her back onto the bed, in his arms, where she belongs.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” He kisses the top of her head.

“I *canít* do this with you, Roman,” only to have to let you go.

“Oh come on, I’m your best friend, you can tell me anything.”

Although he can’t see it, she smiles at that. He truly is, no matter what happens. And if she were to ever voice her fears, what better place to do just that, than in his strong, safe arms.

“Whatcha say, Doc?” he teases to bring about some light-heartedness.

When she brings her hand up to his chest, grabbing a fistful of his shirt to hold onto him, he knows she is going to open up to him.

His arms instinctively tighten around her, “Iím right here.”

She nods, blinking back tears and gulping past the lump in her throat, “I, I remember being in a dark, cold room.”

“Can you describe it to me?” The cop instinct in him instantly awakens and he begins taking mental notes for Marlena’s file.

Her voice takes on a very distant tone. “The only light coming in was from a small window near the ceiling, like a louvre. I remember being so frightened, I couldn”t breathe.”

Roman is well aware of her fear of the dark andmacute claustrophobia. While she keeps it to herself most of the time, it manifested itself rather aggressively when she first returned home after being kidnapped by the ISA.

So the way he runs his hand firmly up and down her back is intended to calm and reassure her. So is the dim light coming from the bedside lamp.

“The floors were concrete. Sometimes wet. Always cold. There was a dirty cot off to the side, but there were times I just didn’t have the strength to climb onto it.”

“So, you’d sleep on the floor?” He tries desperately to quash his anger, to keep his voice neutral and not react to what she tells him; for her sake.

She nods, remembering the feel of that concrete as her body came crashing down onto it, blood trickling from her nose.

“Hang on a second, baby,” reaching around her, Roman brings the comforter up and over them both. Although she is not aware of it, Marlena has begun to shiver from the memories.

As she settles back against his chest, never letting go of his shirt, she continues, “my ankles were shackled to the cot. I couldn’t get very far. He’d always stop me, anyway.” Her voice is soft, but he doesn’t miss a beat.

Neither does she. As she reveals bit by bit, what she has endured, she can feel Roman’s heart as it thrashes wildly against his rib cage.

“What does he look like?” Roman hangs off her every word. If he can get some sort of a description, maybe they can find this monster.

“I don’t remember exactly…”

“Try for me, baby, just try.”

“I couldn’t see his face in my dream, Roman,” she replies testily. “All I can see are his brown eyes as they look right through me.” Her voice begins to crack as she is overwhelmed with panic, “I can taste the blood, I can feel the weight of his hand as he hits me again and again… and I can hear him tell me I that I have lost everything, that I will never see anybody I love ever again.”

“Shhh, shh, shh, it’s okay, I am here now, and he can’t hurt you. I won’t let anybody hurt you.” God damn him!!!

“He drugged me and he took her from me, Roman!” she cries, “he took her from me! She was all I had left, and now I just feel *so* empty.”

Her? She? Roman hears the words, but they just don’t register. He is not even sure Marlena is aware of what she is saying, she is beside herself.

“Who is *she* Marlena??” he asks desperately trying to get some answers.

Feeling cornered, pressured and beyond tired of all of this, Marlena sits up on Romanís lap, rings both of her hands through her hair and just begs him to stop, “I *don’t* know!” As she tries to break free of him and get up off his lap, he grabs her by the wrists, “Roman, I can’t do this anymore, please. I just want to forget. Let me forget this pain.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. No more questions…” for tonight.

“You should go. I’ll be just fine,” she swipes at her cheeks as more lies slip easily off her tongue. She steels herself from him, switching gears in an instant.

He watches her quietly for a moment and hesitates before asking, “why don’t you let me hold you… just for one night?”

She stares at him, and can’t believe the nerve – using their past, something he wishes to deny every other day, to get to her. He knows all the right words to say and the significance of this request is not lost on her. She remembers when many years ago, he asked her the exact same thing. As much as she initially refused, she wanted nothing more than to let John Black hold her.

“Please, Marlena.”

If she is honest, there is nothing more she wants now. She hesitates before nodding, yes.

He scoots over to make room for her beneath the comforter. As she lies down on her back he nestles in beside her, gently stroking her hair and her face. Her eyes begin to flutter closed when he lays a soft kiss on her left temple.

As she finally relaxes in his arms and her breathing evens out, signalling that she has at last fallen into a peaceful sleep, he remembers another time about five years ago, just like this, when he sat up all night long watching her, worrying for her…

She is home late after a gruelling day at work. Marlena never divulges anything about her patients but he knows his wife well. When she walks through the door he can see it in her eyes despite her smile that says, “it’s so good to be home with you.” Something is weighing heavily on her mind.

Setting her down on the couch he brings her legs up onto his lap, removes her thigh-high nylons and uses his strong masculine hands to manipulate her tense calf muscles, while he listens to her talk about everything from the Golden Girls’ Emmy win to the freshly exposed Iran-Contra affair; everything *but* what is truly affecting her.

Later, when their babies are fast asleep, he guides his penis inside her.

It’s deliberate; thorough and unhurried. Itis instinctive; his natural disposition – to love her, to heal her and protect her.

He thinks it’s what she wants and needs when, in answer to his prodding, she opens her legs to receive him.

She cries… from the very moment he wordlessly and painstakingly enters her til the moment he comes.

With each and every one of his thrusts, he hopes she can feel how safe and loved she is.

After her last patient, that is all she wants; to feel safe and loved. Roman has a way of doing that like no other. She hopes he can banish the images that haunt her. But as she closes her eyes, it’s not Roman she sees.

As he pushes his love inside her, it’s not Roman’s tenderness she feels.

As he whispers words of love, it’s not Roman’s voice she hears.

When he finally withdraws from her, so too does she – from him. Except in her mind, it’s not Roman.

It’s Kellam. Delusional, angry Kellam Chandler, who wants to punish her for having the audacity to deny him; who forces his way into her bedroom and defiles her womanhood; who calls her names; who uses all his might to pin her down, to keep her wild, frantic limbs at bay; who slaps her hard across the face to shut her up and to disorient her long enough so that he can negotiate the folds of first, her wrap dress and panties and then, her…

He grunts like an animal atop her, signalling his triumph; he’s in; in one single forceful thrust that brings him to the hilt and scars her forever. The sharp cry she emits is aborted as her mouth and entire body become paralysed from the violence. He’s thick, painful, invasive and foreign. Repulsive. Humiliating. She lays there now, quietly sobbing but submissive all the same, while he moves atop her, jerkily eking out the last of his filthy seed and spitting out those three potent words, over and over again, “I love you,” tainting them; tainting her.

Her tears wet the sheets as she turns her head to the side to avoid his hungry mouth. When she closes her eyes, it’s a futile attempt to escape this brutal reality bearing down on her…

“Roman?” Her voice is hoarse and nasally, but nary above a whisper, “are you awake?”

“Yeah.” He hasn’t slept a wink since making love to her. Her earlier retreat worries him and her reaction scares him. He would die if he ever hurt her. He respects her need for space but, in the last hour, it has taken every last ounce of strength he possesses not to reach out to her while he has listened to her, crying softly in the dark. His hand would inch closer and closer but he’d always stop short of touching her before pulling away.

Marlena takes a deep breath and he can hear the undercurrent of emotion in her voice when she turns to face him, “would you hold me, please?” She purses her lips to keep from crying but it’s no use.

As she looks over at this beautiful, loving man who is now holding his arms open, worry etched all over his handsome face, offering her the safe haven she needs to just fall apart with a simple, “come here, baby,” the floodgates open.

She scoots over to him and he wraps her in his arms as sobs wrack her body; she falls apart knowing that he will hold her together.

Minutes later, they lay in complete and utter silence. He is holding her naked body close to his as he runs his fingers down the length of her back to her tailbone and up again.

Her fingers are idly twirling the hair on his chest when she breaks the silence, “I am sorry for breaking down on you like that.”

His arms tighten around her, “don’t you ever apologise to me for being human, Doc.”

God, she loves this man. She has to fight the urge to get closer to him still; to show him just how much.

Roman feels the feather-light pressure of her lips against his skin, adoring him; thanking him.

“You’re the gentlest, most loving man I have ever known, Roman Brady.” She closes her eyes as images of Kellam flash before her. “I’ve never felt safer than I do right here in your arms,” as if saying it might banish her thoughts.

Roman senses her inner turmoil. “You are safe, baby,” he assures her, while her mind keeps placing her beneath Kellam’s thrusting body – where she has never felt more unsafe in her entire life.

“I know you would never hurt me…”

He closes his eyes, afraid of what she is trying to tell him. Who hurt you, Doc? Before he can voice his fear, Marlena begins to answer his question…

“I told you about Don and I, and the problems we had after DJ’s death which led to our divorce.”

“Yeah.”

“But I never told you about Kellam Chandler.”

Something about the way his name rolls off her tongue makes Roman’s skin crawl. His instincts are confirmed when he feels Marlenaís body go tense against his.

“As in Liz Chandler?”

“Yes, her father. He gave Don a position in his company and for a long while, Don felt indebted to him… and to his daughter, with whom he was having an affair.”

Roman groans, “baby, he’s a fool for ever letting you go.”

Marlena appreciates the sentiment but continues, afraid she will lose her nerve, “to get my mind off our marital problems, I threw myself deeper into my work and also began working closely with Kellam on one of his campaigns. Don didn’t like it. He accused me of having feelings for Kellam, and then of having an affair with him.” She shrugs, “I guess, to absolve himself of the guilt he felt for cheating on me with Liz he had convinced himself that I was exacting some sort of revenge. The truth is…” she pauses abruptly.

“Hey, you’re shivering.” Roman pulls the sheet over her and holds her closer. “Better?”

“I’m okay,” she smiles at how attentive he is and moves in to place a soft, wet lingering kiss on his lips. “I love you,” she whispers hotly.

Before she can distract him and convince him to make love to her again to avoid the conversation, he pulls away, “you can tell me anything, Doc.”

“I know,” she nods, settling in beside him again. “The truth is, Kellam had feelings for me. He had made several advances on me, and I denied him.”

“Sweetheart?”

“I denied him,” she repeats unconvinced; still unsure of herself; still questioning herself… Did I do enough? Did I deserve this? … “until one day…” her voice trails off.

“Marlena?” She hears the alarm and panic in his own voice, as though he is already asking her to tell him it’s not true, and it scares her.

He can feel her hot tears wet his chest as her quiet voice and silent anguish become one with the veil of darkness that shrouds the room and envelopes him…

“Until one day, he would not take no for an answer…”

Her admission hangs in the air for long moments. She waits for a reaction from him. She doesn’t want to have to spell it out. But he needs her to confirm it. He holds onto her, silently imploring her to share her burden with him. He is strong enough to handle it.

She draws in a deep, jagged breath, “he raped me, Roman.”

His reaction is immediate, crushing her to him, repeating over and over how sorry he is.

She doesn’t even flinch, she is so lost in that moment; in the pain and confusion of that time. Overcome by quiet hysteria, she recalls and relives her trauma, play by agonising play, “he forced his way into my room, and threw me onto the bed…” her voice is muffled against him.

“Don’t do this to yourself, baby, please.” His tears mix with hers as he presses his mouth against her forehead.

She can’t even hear him anymore, “I kept fighting him, he kept telling me that he loved me, and that I wanted this…”

“Shhhh.”

“He ripped my dress…”

Roman closes his eyes. He can’t even bring himself to imagine her terror.

“He slapped me across the face and held me down…”

The muscles in Roman’s jaw tighten.

“And then, he raped me,” she whispers. Her eyes close as tears continue to spill over her cheeks.

And he is there silently wiping them away while she cries for what seems like hours, but is in fact, only minutes.

“I wish I could have been there for you, baby.” He hates feeling so helpless, especially when it concerns protecting her.

“I know you do,” she nods, curled up against him. “You are here for me now, and that is all that matters.”

“You never told me this before.” It’s not an indictment and it’s not a question. For some reason, he just feels like this is the first time she has ever opened up to him about it.

“No,” is her simple reply. She ponders that fact for a moment and it even surprises her. She realises that before his reincarnation, she never felt that she could tell him. “I don’t really think about it. I counselled a rape victim today and it all came rushing back,” she rationalises, but still silently wonders why now? She has counselled many a rape victim in the years after and suffered in silence, being unable to share it with him. She bites her lip as she lies in the crook of his arm, “I have never felt closer to you than I do right now. I love you, Roman.”

He holds her securely in his embrace, and she finally falls into a peaceful slumber…

As he watches over her, he responds to the memory and speaks from the heart, “I love you too, Doc.”

But only the night hears his vow, for she is already dreaming of a world in which it is true.

The warmth of the rising sun slices through the crisp morning air. Her brilliant, all-encompassing rays condense the atmosphere to a light mist which eventually settles as a thin film of moisture over the still-sleeping city of Salem. Bright and eager to make her presence known and to notify its denizens of the new day dawning, she shines unabashed and intrusive, through every window and from behind every curtain, slipping through the tiniest of crevices.

Through this particular window however, she pulsates gently from behind gossamer shades, casting a yellow glow over two, what would appear to be, lovers pressed intimately against one another.

They stir.

A voyeur in broad daylight, she is loathe to disturb the image before her. It’s one she remembers all too well – not necessarily because of the way the man’s hand instinctively seeks the warmth of the woman’s soft, bare skin, his palm pressing against the small of her back with the tips of his fingers slipping in just beneath the delicate lace of her panties to hold her body close. Nor because of the way the woman’s bare thigh is wedged between his strapping, denim-clad limbs while he buries his face in the crook of her neck, amongst thick, dishevelled blonde locks. No, it has nothing to do with the obvious physical intimacy displayed before her. It’s the familiar aura of these two bodies, the love emanating from them that is familiar. She came across it many moons ago and it was like nothing she had ever witnessed or had the privilege of casting her magnificent rays upon before – and when she rose over the Brady household on that cold and dreary morning of April 24 1987, she thought she never would again. Obstructed by obstinate, ominous clouds, she knew the aura was gone; his soulmate was gone.

But now? Could it be? Could they have found each other again?

Excited at the prospect, she begins to throb more intensely, causing a pair of brilliant blue eyes to open slowly…

Roman takes in the sight before him; this elegant creature wrapped so intimately around him, against him, was once his – and could be again if only he had the courage to utter four simple words…

I love you, Doc. It’s that simple. Almost too simple, it’s difficult.

You’re still so beautiful, he thinks as his eyes rove, uninhibited, all over her body while she sleeps. She is exposed from her taught midriff down as his t-shirt sits bunched up around the underside of her breasts. He can’t help but notice how she has gravitated towards him in her sleep; how her hand has instinctively found its usual resting place beneath his shirt, against his chest; her leg comfortably sandwiched between his thighs. She looks safe and more peaceful than he has seen her since her return.

For his part, Roman is frustratingly aware of where his hand has gravitated to – and under normal circumstances, he would take it further, gently caressing her until she was awake enough to be made love to. But there is nothing normal about these circumstances and making love to her should be the last thing on his mind.

Should, being the operative word. I can’t stop thinking about you, Doc.

It would be so easy to reach up right now and trace those beautiful full lips with his fingertips eventually replacing them with his own until they are both breathing the same air… As much as he wants to deny it, the truth is, he longs to kiss her; to feel her lips against his and experience the kind of passion and elation he felt that night on the pier when he kissed her again for the first time in five long years.

Using the pad of his thumb, he lightly brushes her lower lip, watching mesmerised as it parts from the other slightly, seemingly in invitation. He fights the urge to slip his tongue in and kiss her thoroughly.

Instinctively, Marlena’s mouth moves towards the source of this warmth, knowing and having felt this touch before – seeking more. Her body moves of its own accord. It knows what to expect = he’ll soon replace his hands with his lips. When she doesn’t feel the familiar pressure of his lips against hers she sighs, shifting uncomfortably, frustratingly in her sleep.

Roman inhales sharply, ruing the day he was born. Her leg is now pressing up against his groin – as if he needed more stimulation. Fuck. He is already rock hard; morning wood was a curse unless he could realise its blessing deep inside Marlena. She couldn’t always oblige, but he was intimately aware that his wife loved sex in the morning. And judging by her nocturnal calisthenics, she still enjoys the intimacy. Isabella, on the other hand, is not a morning person. In fact, as a whole, his relationship with her lacks the kind of sexual intimacy he craved with Marlena. From Isabella he sought companionship. Roman’s loneliness and despair saw to that. He wasn’t looking to replace Marlena in his life, in his heart or in his bed. Subconsciously he held back from ever giving of himself like that again and selfishly, always saved himself for her even though he knew she was gone forever. Ironically here he is, keeping himself from, and fighting his feelings for her…

Leaning his forehead against hers and closing his eyes, through clenched teeth he growls, “Doc, you’re killing me.”

“I don’t mean to,” her soft apology startles him and he opens his eyes to find that she is awake and staring right back at him.

“Hi,” he smiles.

“Hi,” she whispers back, lost in his gaze and his beautiful face. Her eyes travel down to his lips. Give me your mouth. If only she could ask him to; If only he would. He is so close Marlena doesn’t want to move an inch. Physically, this is the closest she has been to him in years, without having him pull away, and she aches to touch him; to hold him.

Slowly, it dawns on her; the coarse chest hair beneath her fingertips, the rough denim of his jeans and the pressure of his thighs on hers – it all finally registers and her eyes grow big. Oh yeah, he’s close. Too close for comfort. Realising how active she must have been during the night, she looks down mortified by her relative state of undress and pulls the t-shirt over her thighs to cover herself whilst untangling her limbs from his.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles.

Roman tries desperately to ignore this intense feeling of missing her already as he watches her retreat to the bathroom. The sight of her never ending, shapely legs as she scurries to safety brings back a flood of passionate memories and his own words to Isabella echo harshly in his mind…

You want to know WHAT exactly, Isabella? If the memory of her long legs wrapped around me is burned in my brain? And what if I can’t *forget* the way it feels to make love to her? If I can’t forget those sounds no matter how hard I try?

Roman cringes in disgust with himself. Isabella, what am I doing to you? What am I doing here? His instincts tell him to run. He could so easily lose himself in Marlena all over again; in her love. She is the most wonderful yet dangerous thing that has ever happened to his heart. If he allows himself to get close again, and he loses her, he will surely die from the pain. There are no two ways about it this time. And all he wants is to feel safe again, not bombarded with these powerful feelings that assault him every time Marlena is near. Isabella is safe. And addicted is what he is – what he and Marlena are to each other.

But the pang of guilt and fear he feels is fleeting and Isabella is forgotten when Marlena re-emerges from the bathroom, having changed into her own plain white v-neck tee and high-waisted blue jeans.

He marvels at how she can still take his breath away, dressed in something so simple, with her hair pulled up in a loose ponytail.  

As Marlena comes and sits by him on the bed, her scent floods his senses instantly – she smells fresh, like peppermint toothpaste and delicately perfumed moisturiser. She smells inviting.

“I really didn”t mean to be a tease, Roman. I’m sorry.”

Is she talking about last night, or right now? She isn’t even aware of the effect she has on a man… on me.

Roman remains silently contemplative as Marlena struggles to find words to alleviate this awkwardness between them. “I’m struggling a little in adapting to all these changes.” It’s the truth. “I’m just so used to sleeping…” with you, next to you. She stops, choosing her words more carefully. “I’m not used to sleeping alone.”

Alone. As much as the word terrifies her, she can handle being alone. It’s losing Roman that she is not sure she can survive.

“It’s okay, I understand,” he replies hoarsely.

He understands alright. He knows exactly what losing her cost him; he knows exactly how it felt to have to go to bed without her every night. A vital part of his soul died right along with her. God help him, he can see the love in her eyes and how much pain it is causing her to be apart from him, to have to deny her feelings for him, and he hates himself for it.  He doesn’t want that for her.

“You do?” she questions in a small voice.

Does she really doubt that? “I’ve been where you are, Doc,” he swallows hard, afraid to even go there.

Their voices are low, hopeless, as they sit side by side, staring straight ahead, both afraid of where this conversation will lead.

Tilting her head to the side, she treads carefully and quietly, “I didnít choose a life without you.” She is not accusing him of anything; just highlighting the difference between then and now. “I loved… *love* you so much, I can’t imagine ever wanting to live without you.” She smiles despite the silent tears and heavy heart, thinking about how it used to be. Wiping her cheek discretely and trying hard to keep her voice from quivering, Marlena implores him, “if you could, for just a moment, put yourself back there, Roman…” She struggles to utter the next few words without emotion. Her throat clenches painfully. “It’s 1986… And you love me…”

Roman doesn’t move a muscle. But even with her gentle tone, he hears her loud and clear. If she needed proof of that, she need look no further than the spasmodic contraction of the muscles in his neck as he swallows. Hard.

She doesn’t have to ask him to remember. His heart won’t let him forget how much he still loves her.

“Can you imagine feeling that way about,” she hesitates, “… me, and wanting to be with…” Isabella? “… with someone else?”

More silence.

“Can you imagine loving me the way you used to and knowing that I no longer wanted, or needed, or loved you in the same way?”

Her words strike a chord with him. He can’t imagine that. He had everything he ever wanted in Marlena back then. His heart was full and it would have killed him to know that she did not return his feelings.

“If someone told you back then to just switch those feelings off, what would you say?” The breath she expels is uneven; shaky.

“Impossible.” The word comes from his mouth like a ghostly whisper as he continues to stare straight ahead. He blinks his eyes a few times as he feels the familiar sting and clears his throat.

Marlena nods, pursing her lips together to keep from sobbing, and closing her eyes as tears and relief wash over her. He loved me then. At least that much is true.

She is not trying to pressure him into making any kind of decision. It’s all a moot point anyway. The decision has been made for him, and there is no going back. She just needs him to understand where she is coming from. Time has stood still for her. Intellectually, she knows everyone has moved on but her heart has not come to grips with that yet and her mind and her body still behave in a way that it means to be so desperately in love with him. She cannot control a subconscious mind that has her body burning for his touch at night. She cannot control a subconscious mind that still craves intimacy with him, that senses when he is near and gives life to limbs that instinctively seek his body heat. Not yet.

“All I am saying, Roman is that you are going to have to be patient with me. I need some time to adjust to these changes and I can’t do that right now. Not overnight and certainly not with you here. I need some time away from you.”

He turns his head to look at her, his eyes are bloodshot and he looks weary. “What does that mean, Marlena?” He hates the sound of this. She has already moved out of their home. How much distance does she want to put between them, exactly?

“It means that I need you to go.” When all I really want is for you to stay. “You shouldn’t have come here last night. It was a mistake.” She bites her lower lip, adding mournfully, “I love you and I want so desperately to be with you and if for just one moment I am granted the reprieve of forgetting that, I am reminded of it every time I look at you.”

“Look at me, Doc,” he pleads. When she doesn’t turn to face him, he tips her chin towards him. She closes her eyes and a lone tear escapes down her cheek. “Please?” his voice is laced with desperation.

She obliges, looking at him from beneath long dark lashes, eyes bright with unshed tears. And the look she thinks she sees in his eyes kills her. “I don’t want your pity,” she whispers as he cups the side of her face and moves in closer to her until he can feel her warm breath on his own face.

“I don’t pity you, Marlena. I …”

“Don’t say it,” she cries softly. Don’t hurt me all over again.

Emotions are running high, their pulses accelerated and in-sync, and the air around them is electrified. The temptation to seek comfort in the past, to get lost in each other and to forget the painful confusion of the present and the uncertainty of the future is very real. Neither of them is thinking clearly and the last thing she wants is for him to tell her he loves her if he doesn’t really mean it.

But he does mean it.

And he hurts her. Over and over again as he claims her lips, melding them together with his, tongues dancing and eyes flitting behind closed eyelids; he kisses her slowly, deeply, thoroughly – breathlessly.  Without reservation. Without regret. With all the hunger in the world…

The dense cigar smoke billows heftily, dramatically in the air – seemingly at the command of a Maestro’s phantom baton that flicks back and forth in marvellously controlled chaos, extracting the powerful chords of Giuseppe Verdi’s La Forza Del Destino from the gramophone that features prominently, majestically in this grand lounge room.

But there is room for only one ego in this stifling dimness. Not even the massive leather upholstered wing back chair that he occupies diminishes his presence.

Propping the very expensive Cohiba Behike between two thick fingers, he puffs again and again through thin pouted lips that form an ‘O’, relishing in the spicy taste and bathing luxuriously in the scent of fermented tobacco as though it is as pure as and indistinguishable from the air he breathes. Finally, the smooth, yet toxic plume he has created around him dissipates with dramatic effect, revealing a shadowed and loathsome moon-shaped face. Beneath those closed eyelids are tiny slits that house beady brown eyes; menacing and witness to a world full of others’ pain and suffering.

He hums eerily as his favourite piece continues to echo through the gold plated speaker, exciting his every sense – La Forza Del Destino. Literally translated, it means ‘The Force of Destiny’ – perhaps more aptly described as the power of fate. He is one who controls his own destiny… and the fate of others.

Eyes still closed with a slight smirk on his face, he surrenders to the sound of the powerful instruments that seemingly vie for attention but which create tremendous harmony, and he contemplates the melodic theme of Verdi’s masterful piece; the folly and futility of attempting to avoid fate – especially when that fate is designed by none other than Stefano Dimera.

The hero is compelled to commit that which his spirit and soul rebel against. He remembers uttering those same words to John Black as he watched the hero finally lose his battle and succumb to the powerful drug he was injected with moments earlier. John muttering Marlena’s name before losing consciousness only strengthened Stefano’s resolve to destroy him.   

Immense, exquisite pleasure, like that which one experiences during coitus, contorts Stefano’s face and wracks his body; he gets off on power and throbs from the sadistic thrill this music inspires. It gives him renewed energy to reclaim and destroy his pawn once and for all, and to repossess all that John Black holds dear. He’ll never forget the fear or the fire in his blue eyes as he was threatened with Marlena’s life… or the lengths John would go to, to keep her safe.

A twisted grimace is brought on by the straining hardness in his pants as Stefano’s eyebrows rise expectantly. He waits with abated breath for the music’s impending climax. He too will sing, aided by his free hand which matches the violinist stroke for frantic stroke, his rancid heart beating erratically as the trombones, bassoons, trumpets and side drums are silenced as abruptly and as prematurely as he copulates, when the gramophone needle scratches the vinyl record.

Spent and struggling to catch his breath from the exertion, Stefano’s overweight frame remains motionless in the chair – one hand still in his lap clutching his flaccid, jerking member, while the cigar continues to slowly burn away in the other. With his body feeling heavy as lead, he brings the cigar to his mouth and takes one long drag before reaching up to remove the monogrammed pocket square from his blazer.

They’re not only designed for sophistication.

After tossing the handkerchief in the trash can at his feet, he slides his hand into the desk drawer beside him, pulling out a black, bound leather book. Using his thick, stubby digits, he fingers the gold indentation on the hardcover – 1986 Diary. The binding cracks as he opens it to a random page. Her cursive script, her every word, burns as though tattooed on his skin…

Wednesday, May 21, 1986

He made love to me for the very first time last night.

When he disappeared under the sheets and pried my legs open again, I didn’t think we’d ever stop – crawling and climbing all over and into each other in hunger; clawing at one another. I am still wearing his markings.

He unleashed months of building tension on my body… Stolen hours of sex while Sami and Eric soared to Never Neverland. I wanted him from the moment he asked me to sign his stupid sign-in, sign-out sheet. He tells me I drove him crazy.

I have never felt so wonderfully and thoroughly sexed. My skin is still feverish from his touch; my thighs and muscles ache from his hours-long incursion into my body. He still lingers inside me. I haven’t felt this alive in a very long time.  I miss him.

Joh… Roman.

As he held my trembling body in his arms, he convinced me he was okay when I lost all control and called him ‘John’.

He is John. He is the man I fell in love with; those blue eyes I get lost in, that boyish charm, his heart of gold. Knowing now that he is supposed to be, and supposed to look like another (my husband no less) doesn’t change that simple fact. My heart was already beating so strongly for this stranger that it crushed all sense – overrode all rational thought to the point where I couldn’t help but imagine my body joyously impaling itself on the unforgiving mast of the Phoenix. The shame I felt, though immense, is not stronger than my love for him. I want to be with him, to be made love to by him, no matter what name he carries.

The fact that it happens to be Roman, just makes things less complicated – it doesn’t make my love for him any more or less true. It no more legitimises or negates the way that I feel than it would if the photograph we found in the wilderness featured the face of the man I loathe the most in this world.

We were both so nervous. When he asked if he should turn off the light, I said yes. But even in the darkness, he still watched me; he instinctively knew his way around my body, exploring and tasting every square inch of my skin; as though he has touched me, loved me before.

And while despite his amnesia, the way he touches me tells me that he remembers on a subconscious level the intimacy we shared, I don’t remember it ever being like this with Roman. Everything about him is different. It’s not just his darker, longer, hair or his deep blue eyes. It’s not even how much thicker and longer he felt as he pushed himself inside me – he never felt this full, not even after weeks of abstinence.

It’s the way he is so aware of me. When my body stiffened against his, he threaded his fingers through mine curling them tight. He watched me closely as he kept easing himself in, encouraging me to cry out if I needed, to just relax around him and take him in to the hilt. He is so attentive, like never before. It’s the way he loves me and I him; so completely, so selfishly and selflessly at the same time. He holds me closer than I remember ever being held by him.

My love for him stems from these differences. I feel like I am being unfaithful to the memory of Roman. And God help me, I want to be unfaithful again.

When he finally fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, all I could do was lie in his arms propped on his beautifully vast chest, and stare at him. Completely spent from pleasuring me, he looked so handsome, so serene – A far cry from the troubled amnesiac who had no clue who he was. Now he is all I ever wanted him to be – my lover, my husband, my soulmate.

I traced his thick eyebrows, I kissed his long eyelashes and the tip of his nose, I licked his full lips and ran my fingers through his ruffled hair. I could feel his strong heart beating beneath my breasts, his manhood occasionally twitched against my thigh. He was alive and at peace and there I was just so afraid… Afraid that if I closed my eyes for just one moment I would lose him. So I gently mounted him and slowly guided him inside me, rousing him dazed and confused from peaceful slumber.

It was the first time Roman ever called me baby. I always want to be his baby.

“Doc? What are you doing?” he asked groggily.

“I need you,” I whispered perhaps more vulnerable than I had intended, slowly moving my hips against him and stretching him inside me as I leant forward. I needed him to silence the doubt, the insecurity, the fear that he would put his work before me again like he used to and leave, never to return.

Wordlessly, he reached out and grasped my waist, helping me draw wide, sensual circles with my pelvis. He guided me just how he liked it, occasionally applying direct stimulation between my thighs with his fingers, but he could feel my anxiety as I teetered on the cusp. I didn’t want it to end. Not until he promised me.

He was growing hard, unyielding inside me. He must have known my struggle; felt the tension in my body as it bore down on his; sensed my disquiet as I rode him.  I was in a world where he’d abandoned me. The air was so thick I couldn’t breathe and I just ached to hear those words from him.

That was when he sat up against me so that we were nose to nose, mouth to mouth, chest to heaving chest. My body sank completely onto him as he brought my legs out from under me to wrap them tight around him. Looking straight into my eyes, stripping me bare, holding me flush against his body as he swelled and throbbed so deeply inside me, he swore he would never leave me… “It’s just you,” whispered over and over again as I came around him. He filled me with his promise seconds later.

Stefano grits his teeth with barely concealed rage. From the moment that son of a bitch plundered her, she sensed that he was not her husband, Roman. And John… he was falling for her all over again; his heart, his soul and his mind completely and utterly defying all of my brainwashing!

He clutches the page as though he might rip it from its woven binding. No matter how many times he invades Marlena’s privacy, her words don’t lose their acidity. They still sting the same. In the last five years, he has read this particular entry over and over again and its contents continue to mock him… You failed, Stefano. You failed. She might not have remembered exactly who he is, but time and time again she is always drawn to him, and he to her.

Stefano begins frantically flipping the pages, stopping randomly and scouring the diary’s contents like a man obsessed.

Despite all his evil machinations, the tireless brainwashing and the torture, this diary was proof that deep down inside, Marlena still remembered John Black from her formative years – before Don and Roman. From that damn moment at University Hospital when the Pawn made himself known to her again she knew in her heart there was something special about him; he meant something to her no matter how she rationalised it in her mind. Their connection remained strong. Her love for him threaded through every word, leaps off every page as Stefano continues to read…

There is something about those eyes that stare at me from behind his bandages. Something inviting; something sincere. I have peered into those depths in another lifetime, I know I have. They haunt my every waking moment and fill my every dream. Who are you to me? (January, 1986)

Phrases, realities that scorch him…

Roman is on stakeout tonight and I am alone. I find myself needing him more and more every day. My body is on fire with just the thought of what he might do to me when he walks through that door. For now, I will just have to close my eyes and remember how much he likes it when I think of him and touch myself. (1986)

Words that remind him how subconsciously, Marlena knew the difference…

We make love almost every day. There was a time when Roman didn’t care if I kept my legs closed. Now he makes me open them so much. (June, 1986)

The mere thought that his pawn had carnal knowledge of the woman he desired, is enough to make Stefano go crazy…

Roman and I love hard. When it becomes too overwhelming, he fucks me harder. (August, 1986)

Her elegant scrawl belies the crudeness of that statement and the often animalistic nature of their lovemaking. The prim and proper Dr Evans, so demure and ladylike, so respected and revered, quite the contradiction in the bedroom. Her confessions burn his brain, but he can’t avoid the temptation of the forbidden fruit. So he retrieves her 1987 diary and continues to read – words he has read over and over again; private words and thoughts that ultimately betrayed her and brought her plane and her world crashing down…

I have loved him in another lifetime, I know I have. It goes beyond what I felt for Roman before his reappearance. That doesn’t even compare… I can’t reconcile the man I love now with the curly-haired man in the photograph I pulled from the briefcase in the mountains of West Virginia. They’re two very different people. (April, 1987)

The first time he read those words, Stefano knew he had to get her back under his tight control for she was on the cusp of remembering. And he managed to. For five long years, he performed all manner of brutalities upon her to purge John Black from her heart, until once again her restless soul went in search of him. She escaped. No matter the extent or intensity of his brainwashing techniques, he can’t seem to extinguish the latent memory of John Black that is so deeply embedded in her core.

Stefano slams his fist down on the rich mahogany desk, causing his custom made gold and rhodium chess pieces to jump, while the Queen topples heavily off the glass chequered board. He picks her up, and clenches her tightly. “I will have you back, Marlena. And you will live to regret ever having escaped from me.”

*****

7:52am

His fingers are tangled in her thick blonde locks as he continues his thorough exploration of her mouth.

Eyes closed; Hearts racing.

She finds herself surrounded no, smothered by him; his intoxicating scent, his touch, his love. Surely one must love in order to kiss like this?

Roman is gentle but persistent as he keeps his feverish lips steadfastly anchored to hers, tongues twisting, colliding, duelling in this dark, sweet and boundless abyss their mouths create.

The mere touch of his lips on her fevered skin is enough to melt her insides; one of his kisses more satisfying than any orgasm he could ever give her.

Marlena is warm and inviting; accepting him, needing him in return. Everything he has ever wanted is right here in his arms. He almost forgets to breathe.

All of his desire, all of his affection for her is poured into this one kiss. He lays himself bare, pillowing his incredible love for her against her mouth, and then filling her with it. Don’t you know? *This* is how I feel about you, Doc.

She is gorgeously feminine contrasted against his striking masculinity; her sweeping jaw line stretched with the power of their kiss; his thumb stroking her face; his fingers tugging at her hair; his brows creased in earnest…

She lets him take control although her slender fingers are wrapped gently around his wrists, seemingly reserved and prepared to push him away at a moment’s notice -preserving her own sense of control in this confusion, tentative as her grip may be. But in reality, she keeps him there, afraid he will leave, afraid this is the last time; Afraid that when he pulls away he will be breaking apart from her forever.

His tongue is sensually stroking hers again and again when she moans deep in her throat. After all these years he still knows just how to make her knees go weak and her head spin; he still knows how to cause the excitement that has now settled warm and sticky between her thighs.

His nostrils flare from her scent. He almost forgets he is not permitted to reach down and dabble in her excitement like he ordinarily would.

She wants more. She needs more – From him and no one else in this world.

And more is what a kiss like this would almost always inevitably lead to in the Brady household. Making out for hours at a time, in each other’s arms, on the couch, when late and all alone, was not uncommon. It was all well and good if they were in a position to deal with the consequences… After all, a session such as this did not end without both parties becoming painfully aroused, and stroking Roman over his boxers while kissing him, rarely, if ever, pacified him or settled him down. It only made him harder and wilder for her. Likewise, the use of his masterful hands drove Marlena crazy. Nevertheless, they put in a good effort, once lasting 1.5 hours before Roman, couldn’t take it any longer…

Fastening his mouth to hers, she whimpers in slight discomfort as he twists her body so that she is on her knees awkwardly leaning over the back of the couch, while still servicing his mouth over her shoulder. The pillows yield at his knees causing him to bump heavily, clumsily into her, his swelling length straining against her back as he curls his body over hers.

“Oh Roman…” she cries seductively against his hot mouth, lifting her hips expectantly and grinding against him, silently begging him to fill her. Something about the way her husband is poised and expecting to take what he needs from behind.

His fingers are everywhere at once – tangled in her hair, clutching at her scalp; fondling her between her legs.

“Is this for me?” he teases pulling wet fingers from her – something about the way she is willing to let him give and take what he needs from behind.

“Yeah,” she replies breathlessly.

Without another word, without need for direction, he pushes the cotton fabric of her fitted skirt up around her delectable ass and penetrates her long and hard. He grunts.

His force winds her. Her body stiffens. For the first time in 90 wonderful minutes their mouths become paralysed against each others’ until Marlena finally exhales sharply, whimpering in sweet agony.

“Am I hurting you?” Alarmed by her plaintive cry and so intimately and acutely aware that he is lodged deeply inside her, he remains deathly still and she, deafeningly quiet. “Baby?”

Marlena reaches behind him, clutching the backs of his thighs. “No, I’m okay,” she lies reassuringly taking his lips between her teeth, flicking her tongue over them as she tries to adjust to him. “It’s only you. Just you…”

Roman’s large and powerful frame takes its cue moving inside her, against her curves, gaining momentum, until he is pounding her in earnest and she is crying out his name…

8:36am

The clock keeps ticking away while time has stopped – suspended in this fog they have created; sharing intimacy in their own little world where a ‘them’ exists again. Shallow breaths, tongues lapping at each other, and the odd moan are the only sounds peppering the silence between these four walls.  

Roman and Marlena are completely wrapped up in each other, like teenagers revelling in their first kiss except that they have the benefit of years of experience and the powerful all-encompassing emotions that go with it.

Ever so slowly, Marlena pulls away until they are both staring deeply into each other’s eyes.

What does this mean, Roman? Head spinning, mind swirling, she feels like she could walk on air. What’s real and what isn’t? She can’t even tell the difference anymore. But she has all the physical signs of just having been kissed passionately by the man she adores. Her jaw aches. Her breath is shallow. Her bussed lips feel fuller, tender, tingling delightfully from having been suckled by him, teased between his teeth. This is real alright.

The only question in his eyes is, why did you stop? Wordlessly and with a pure expression of mesmerisation, Roman moves an errant strand of hair from her face, placing it behind her ear and moving in again, kissing her lips softly this time. Enjoying the feel of her, this closeness and never wanting it to end.

Marlena is spellbound. Unable to resist him, she parts her lips again at the nudging of his, wanting to let him continue making her feel this way. It’s when he brings his bandaged hand to her face to touch her cheek that she gets distracted, her mouth becoming unresponsive as she opens her beautiful hazel eyes. They are glazed over with desire and looking straight into his sympathetically.

“What happened to you?” she asks softly, taking his hand in hers.

“It’s not important, Doc,” he states as a matter of fact, averting his eyes.

“Roman, you are hurt. That is important to me.” She moves back so that she can look into his eyes. “Please?” she implores, smiling up at him warmly.

He can see that she wants to help him and he can’t deny her. He never could. This constant need to help and heal people drives her and makes his heart swell with pride and love for her. Marlena’s compassion knows no bounds and she is such a wonderful doctor. He is intimately aware of that.

Touching her face with the tips of his fingers, he gives in, “alright Doc, you win.”

“Good to know things haven’t changed *that* much,” she jokes, wanting to lighten his mood.

Roman smiles half-heartedly, as Marlena begins to unwrap the bandage whilst concentrating intently on his hand.

He can concentrate on nothing else but her; being so close to him, her hand holding his, caressing him, caring for him.

“Oh honey,” she gasps as she is confronted with the sight of a considerable amount of blood in the palm of his hand, “we are going to need Tom’s medical bag to clean this up. “I’ll be right back.” Marlena rushes from the room as Roman lets out a tired sigh. Why can’t this just be as simple as you and me, Doc?

She is back almost immediately with Tom’s black bag and starts working on his hand to stem the blood flow. He watches her first gently clean the blood around the affected area so she can see the extent of the cut.

“So? How did you manage to do this to yourself?” she repeats.  

“I broke some glass at home,” he offers, hoping she will just accept that for an answer.

“I can see that,” she says pulling Tom’s medical tweezers from his bag to remove a piece of glass still lodged in his hand.

He smiles sheepishly, “I was wondering why it still hurt so much.”

She gives him an admonishing look, “you could have developed a serious infection, Roman,” she chides him and all he can think about is how soft her hands are against his and how gentle and attentive she is as a doctor.

“There,” she tugs out the piece of glass and pulls it towards the light to inspect it, as she would if she were attending to a patient in the hospital. She freezes suddenly and Roman hears the small gasp that escapes her lips.

“What’s wrong?”

Keeping her head down she mumbles, “nothing,” as she puts the glass and tweezers aside, tapes the wound and begins to bandage his hand.

Something is terribly wrong. He has become a master at reading her body language.

“All better,” she states quickly, bringing his hand up to place a soft kiss over the bandage, like she used to do with the children. The gesture causes a pang in his chest.

“Thanks,” he says wistfully, wishing things were different.

Marlena says nothing as she continues to stare down at his hand, afraid to move.

Roman’s heart skips a beat when a tear drop falls into his bandaged palm, darkening the skin coloured material, “Doc??” He tilts her chin up to look at him and her bright eyes pierce him. She is absolutely crushed.

Her lip trembles, “our wine goblets?” She would know that purple tinted crystal anywhere…

Roman has difficulty swallowing. Just how am I going to explain this?

“Roman? Our wine goblets?” she asks, her voice shaky. Please deny it. Please. For my sanity.

Feeling this distraught over a pair of wine goblets, one might think is silly. But if Roman has indeed destroyed them, not only has he destroyed the only remaining tangible symbol of their love, he has obliterated any hope she had for their future. Knowing that he held onto them all these years meant that to some degree, he was still holding onto what they had. He was still holding onto her.

As she searches his eyes for the truth, her heart sinks. Less than twenty minutes ago, their lips were locked in a silent but nevertheless unmistakable declaration of love. Now? Now what? Now she is reminded that his feelings for another woman were real. Are real, she corrects herself.

“I’m sorry, Doc.” No point in denying it. He looks at her regretfully and reaches out to touch her with the same now professionally bandaged hand that caused this mess in the first place.

Marlena startles, standing up and moving out of his reach. “Please don’t…” she implores him as she backs away, her hand posed to ward him off. She can’t even look at him right now. She turns swiftly, pressing fingers to her lips to keep from crying. Questions swirl around in her mind, dizzying her. Did he smash them in a fit of anger and frustration? Does he resent being tied to the past… To me?

Roman watches her as she looks out the window. Her posture is so stiff, mirroring her countenance. He can almost imagine the tight chords running down the length of her back. One tug at the string and she will snap. She has been under so much stress lately, what, between his inability to make a commitment, even if that means she has to live without him, and the looming threat of her missing years. If only she’d let him knead the tension from her body like he used to…

Staring out onto the street below, their street, she exhales heavily and speaks. “If you didn’t want them, Roman, I would have taken them with me.” Why couldn’t you just let me have a piece of us to hold onto?

He cringes at the reminder that she intends to leave him. *Has* technically left him.

She flinches when she senses his nearness; the warmth of his body; his breath on her ear. Her fingers curl around the window sill just that little bit tighter when she feels his hands on her body. Please don’t touch me.

“It’s not like that at all, Doc, please hear me out…” he pleads with her as he turns her gently by the shoulders to face him.

Marlena looks up at him with a wan smile. “However it is, Roman, the bottom line doesn’t change. You are with another woman. With Isabella.”

He stands before her. Accused. Guilty, yet not. “Yes. While you were gone, I was with Isabella.” His eyes are brilliantly translucent as they peer into hers; the purest shade of blue. And she is reminded that he is such a good, honest man; that none of this is his fault; that he has only ever loved her and made her feel the happiest she has ever felt in her life. She was torn apart from him every bit as must as he was from her. It wasn’t what he wanted.

“It was all I could do to survive the pain of losing you.” His raspy voice aches with it. “I couldn’t stop it, Doc. I couldn’t stop the pain.” Not even with Isabella.

Her eyes fill with tears as she reaches down slowly and takes his big hand in hers, her delicate, thin, long fingers encasing it. Her voice is thick with regret. “I’m so sorry, Roman. I’m sorry I reacted the way that I did. I never had the right to expect that you’d hold onto them in the first place…” or onto me.

Shaking his head ‘no’ , you’ve got it all wrong, Doc. “Doc, it’s not…” he begins to protest. Looking into her beautiful bright eyes, his hand in hers, he wants to just tell her; just tell her God damn it. I was just so afraid of losing you, Doc. *Am* so afraid of losing you again.

Her hazel eyes volley back and forth between his, trying desperately to read him – “what?” she whispers. “What is it?” she almost begs him to open up to her.

He looks down at his hand, pressed firmly between hers almost as if in prayer and he realises she has always held it; held him – through thick and thin – through his hardest, most painful and trying moments she has been his rock and had his back, asking for nothing more from him than she was willing to give – his whole heart; his love. As much as his mind wants to deny that right now, she has it. His heart still beats for her. It always did, no matter who else came into his life.

She reaches up and gently tilts his chin so that their eyes meet. “Tell me.”

After a long pause, Roman speaks. “I’m sorry about our wine goblets, sweetheart.” It seems all they have been doing lately is apologising to each other. “When I didn’t find you home, something snapped inside of me.” His thoughts chase him at a million miles per hour as his words tumble out much the same way, stammering, “I, I, I felt like I was back there tearing the house apart to find you, whhh, when the ISA and then Orpheus had taken you. I thought I was going to lose my mind!”

“Oh, honey!” she stifles a sob and wipes a tear from his face. He shrugs it off, feeling uncomfortable with these memories.

“Then, I found your note,” he begins tentatively. He takes a deep, burdened breath. And my heart stopped. I couldn’t breathe at the thought of losing you. Say it, damn it. His brow furrows and his lips curl with the question, “why did you leave our home, Doc?” his voice laden with hurt.

“You *know* why, Roman,” she impresses hoarsely. You love Isabella.

“Don’t you think that’s a little unfair?” he asks, feeling cheated out of a decision he thought was his to make.

Marlena’s eyes grow big with incredulity and a strangled laugh escapes her mouth, “unfair?!” Not one for self-pity, Marlena pauses momentarily, pressing her fingers to her lips. Closing her eyes to collect her thoughts, she continues, “Roman, I don’t need to tell you what is so incredibly unfair about all of this.” She bites her lower lip as she feels a dull ache begin to build behind her eyes, “I am trying to make this easier on everyone. You need time and space to figure this thing out.”

“Is that what this is?” he gestures back and forth with one hand in the little space between them.  He’s angry now. “You’re giving me time and space? Because that’s not what your letter said, Marlena. That’s not what *this* says?” his voice rises a notch as he pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket and brings it to her eye level, “you’re gifting me to Isabella?!”

Marlena’s breath gets caught in her throat as she blinks back tears, he knows I was there. “You’re right. It’s not what it says.” She smiles tearfully, regretfully, “I saw you; the two of you. You had your hh-han…” she can’t event finish her sentence. Composing herself, she looks straight at him and sees the recognition in his face.

Internally, he cringes remembering the distasteful scene; remembering the other woman.

Marlena considers him standing there before her, shifting uncomfortably; this wonderful man. He is hurt, he is vulnerable, he is always well intentioned. She knows he would never purposefully hurt her. They have spent more uncomfortable moments like this more recently than she cares to count and they can’t keep on hurting each other anymore. She struggles with the words her mind wants her to say for his benefit, but which her heart vehemently denies… “I… I want a divorce.”