The shadow of the moon illuminates the darkened living room, silhouettes dancing effortlessly across the cream colored walls. The air surrounding the spacious room is cold and stale, so much like the life John Black is living in at the moment.
He does not hear the door open, nor does he hear the soft stiletto heels of his wife coming towards the open door to the balcony where he sits. The cold wraps around John like an overpowering wave of grief, yet he does not move, not even when the silky touch of his wife’s hand caresses the base of his neck.
“Come on inside,” she says quietly, “it’s so cold out here.”
He does not answer. Instead he looks up into his wife’s face, his eyes lost and swimming in a fear she has never seen before. He memorizes every feature on her face. Her soft hazel eyes, the glimmer of the moon that bounces off the russet color of her hair. Her every feature allows him to remember why he has fallen in love with her in the first place and in a quick instant, he grabs her hand so tightly, she allows a gasp to slip through her reddened lips.
John still does not speak but it is then Marlena realizes the tight grasp he has on a white sheet of paper. She leans forward, curious as to what John is hiding. Knowing her every thought, he holds it out to her, permitting her to see what lies on the paper.
“DNA results are back,” he mutters. His hands shake as he holds the product of the test out to her. “Tony is my brother.” He stops for a moment, inhaling the cold rush of air that sweeps past them. And as he exhales, his words mix with the wind, as if all they want to do is escape and leave. “I am a DiMera.”
“John,” she breathes, unsure of what to say, unsure of the words that can somehow comfort his heart. She soon realizes there are no words and clasps her fingers between his, their hands folding like the missing pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
He takes his free hand and rubs it over his swollen eyes, evident that he has spent the last hours crying. “I’m sorry, Marlena.”
She looks at him amazed, wondering what it is he could be apologizing for. She can feel in her own heart the pain he is enduring, the blame he must feel for never knowing he is the product of his worst enemy. She yearns to hold him, to let him cry the way she knows he needs to. But instead, she turns his face towards hers, their eyes locking beneath the sheath of moonlight that bathes them into the night.
She holds her pointer finger against his lips, feeling the soft breath that flows outwards. “John, stop it,” she replies, firmly, squeezing his hand. “This isn’t the end of the world.”
His head snaps up, his eyes burning with tears that have once again built up. “How can you say that?”
Marlena sees something in his eyes, a raw emotion that lies somewhere deep within his soul. She knows she has seen it before, yet cannot pinpoint the moment and as she wracks her brain, it suddenly comes to her. It is the look he wore that night on the plane. The night he was to run away from Salem forever because his world had become a little to much. Fearing his escape, she shifts her body and wraps her arms around him as tight as her arms permit.
“I love you,” she states, running her fingers lazily across his spine. “I don’t care who your father is, John.”
He withers out of her embrace, wanting more than anything to avoid her stare, but at the touch of her warm hand against his back, he can’t help but look up at her. He wonders what it is she sees when she looks at him, if the pain in his clear blue eyes will one day turn her away. He turns his head away from her, concentrating on the way the wind moves the fallen leaves across the balcony. He responds to her statement, but still refuses to meet her stare.
“I care. I care that the two men I hate most in this world have suddenly become my family. I care that my children will now be related to the DiMera’s and I care that my wife has now become one as well. What am I supposed to tell my children, Marlena? How do I tell them that the man who stole their mother from them when they were younger, the man who stole away their father’s past and altered parts of his future is their Grandfather?”
He finally looks up at her, his eyes pooled with tears. John brings his hand to Marlena’s cheek, softly touching the smooth texture of her skin. “But most of all,” he whispers, “how can you look at me and tell me you love me when I have DiMera’s blood in my veins.”
She smiles only slightly before answering. “If you remember, I loved you when I thought you were Stefano DiMera. John, I never fell in love with you for your family. I fell in love with you because you were the first man who I ever truly felt alive with. Do you feel this?” She takes his hand and places it tenderly over her left breast, her heart pumping furiously. “It beats because of you, you know.” Her voice now barely a whisper, “You are my heart.”
He lowers his face and buries his head in the crevice of Marlena’s neck. The warmth of his tears slide down her skin and she kisses the crown of his head. His words are muffled when he speaks, never letting his head fall from the warmth of her touch.
“I can’t do this.”
“John Black admitting defeat?” She sounds surprised. “Of course you can do this. Need I remind you of the hero you are. About the time when we flew to Paris and you managed to disarm a bomb and fly a plane. Or the time, no the times!” she says firmly, “in which you have saved me from the grips of Stefano. Or how about when you battled the devil Himself just to save my soul. Do you understand what a tremendous affect you have on your children? The way they stare at you when you aren’t looking with a wondrous gleam in their eyes wondering just what they did to get as wonderful a father as you. Do you even know how much I love you?”
When John doesn’t answer, Marlena lifts his head staring straight through him. “If I don’t say it to you everyday, then I am sorry. But I love you, John. And you need to understand that who you are is not who your family is.”
“It is when it comes to the DiMera’s,” he says sadly. “No matter how good they once may seem, they will always fall to the DiMera pray. Lexie, Kristen, Peter. Maybe even Tony. So what happens if I become that man? What happens if I become what DiMera always wanted me to become.”
“You won’t! Stefano is dead, John. He is gone and whether or not he was still alive isn’t even the issue. I know you love me enough, love your children enough, to never fall to the hands of DiMera. Do you want to know who you are, John?”
She stands up and holds her hand out for him to take. When he doesn’t budge, she pulls him up with the strength of her arm and drags him towards the mirror in the living room. Marlena stands behind him, only allowing John to see himself.
“What do you see, John?”
John looks at himself in the mirror and winces. The red rimmed eyes, the scruffy facial hair that should have been shaved earlier that morning. His clothes are wrinkled and he feels as if the weight of the world has settled upon his shoulders.
“I don’t know,” he murmurs.
Marlena sighs, moving to the side of him. “Do you want to know what I see? I see the strongest man I have ever known and yes, maybe he looks a little run down but I know he will get over it. John, you have survived so much! You have been put through hell and back and you have always pulled through it.”
He turns his head towards her, his voice warm. “Only because of you.”
She smiles, holding her hand out to him and this time he takes it willingly. “And you will always have me. I’m not going anywhere, John. I’m not going to run away or leave you just because you found out you were part of a family in which has hurt us. I’m in this for the long run. I’ll do whatever I can to pull you through this, sweetheart. I’ll help you tell the children, I’ll let you cry when you need to. Most of all, I will love you and somehow I hope that can pull you through this.”
He bends down slightly, kissing her lips as tenderly as he can. With his eyes still closed, he leans his mouth up against her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “I don’t know what I ever did to receive you but with all the mistakes and broken promises in my life, you are the one thing that has been worth it all. I love you, Marlena. With all my heart.”
She nods her head, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. “I know,” she says. “We will make it John, we always do.”
For the first time since he has known the truth, John Black is able to smile. He leans his head back, so his eyes can meet hers once more. He places his finger underneath her chin and brings her face closer to his, their lips meeting in a bond only the two of them share.
“Yes, we always do,” he breathes, his words lost in the depth of her mouth. “Thank you.”
Marlena nods and responds with another kiss, moving her one hand down to his own. Both hands lock together as if it has never been any other way. She soon remembers the vows she has spoken to John on their wedding day and as they sway gently to the breeze outdoors, she repeats them, refuge washing over both of them.
“Nobody can ever promise what the future will bring, but I will make you one solemn vow. I will love you no matter what, whether rain or drought or sun or storm, whatever comes, I will laugh with you, weep with you, celebrate with you, and morn with you. Whatever comes, I am yours my love, until death part us.”
The End
The Jarlena Journal 