Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.
Percy Bysshe Shelley, “Prometheus Unbound”
The weight of her body slumped against the inside of the coffin causes the lid to break free even before he has a moment to free the last nails. The piece of flaming wood fell towards him and he ducks and rolls out of the way before reaching forward to catch her as she falls forward.
It’s not until he’s pulled her from harm’s way and can see Steve releasing Kayla that he allows himself to take a breath, choking on the smoke-filled air; he kicks towards the flaming lid of the coffin, pushing it out of the way, stamping out a few of the flames to prevent them from coming any closer.
“Doc.” He fumbles with the rope around her wrists that tie her folded hands to her chest in a macabre image of her near escape. Her eyes are closed and her breathing erratic, most likely from all the smoke she had to have been inhaling for God knows how long. God, but she’s so pale. He swears under his breath as the ropes refuse to loosen before finally pulling his knife from his pocket and cutting her loose. “Doc!”
Behind him, Steve has untied Kayla and cradles her in his arms as he staggers to his feet, looking frantically around him as the sound of approaching sirens register in John’s brain. He nods towards Kayla’s still form, the unspoken question in his eyes.
“She’s gonna be okay,” says Steve, a trace of worry still in his voice. Kayla’s coughs are violent and heavy as he backs against the wall, trying to shield her from the flames that still slowly spreading due to gasoline spilled on the floor. “She’s alive. Marlena?”
“Yeah, think she’s okay.” The sirens sounds louder now, just outside the door to the warehouse. He just hopes that Steve had told them to send an ambulance.
~.~.~.~.~.
He can see the wounds on her wrists as she sleeps. Deep rivets flecked with lines of red where the ropes had bit into her skin. He takes her hand in his, seeing flashes of the fear that would have coursed through her to cause her to struggle so violently; he presses his lips to her skin, gently, oh, so gently.
Her hand held in his, he watches in quiet helplessness as she shifts in her sleep, her brow furrowed against unseen danger.
~.~.~.~.~.
Kayla’s unseen screams are the first thing that she becomes aware of as she struggles to free her hands, to kick uselessly at the inside of the coffin. She’s becoming dizzy, feeling her lungs burn with the effort of trying to expel the smoke that eked in through the cracks in the wood, not quite having burned through enough to touch her. Yet.
Coughing, coughing… as though if her lungs are trying to flee from inside of her.
She can hear Kayla screaming her name, hear her begging for an answer, but her lips can’t t form the words… She tries to fall to her knees, but the tight quartered coffin keeps her eerily upright, her body shaking with convulsions, coughing, choking.
“John…”
~.~.~.~.~.
“Physically, she’s fine. She’ll probably experience some residual effects after breathing in that much smoke, but she was very lucky. A few minor burns, nothing that won’t take care of itself in a few days.”
Valerie reaches out and touches his shoulder as he nods absently. “It’s not my specialty,” she adds gently, “but she’s been through a very traumatic experience here. It’s going to take time for her to process.”
“I understand.”
They stand just outside her room as she slept; she had woken once briefly in the ambulance, but not long enough to speak. Valerie has already assured him that this was normal. It’s only been a few hours since the rescue; her body needs to rest. He’s uneasy not having seen her eyes since the moment she’d stepped inside that damned box.
~.~.~.~.~.
“John!” She sits bolt upright in bed, his name having left her lips in a scream before she’s even aware of her surroundings.
“Hey, hey, hey, Doc.” He’s next to her now, enveloping her in his arms, sitting on the bed. He holds her so tightly she can’t breathe, not that it even matters as she buried her face in his chest and breathes in his scent. “It’s all right. I’m here, Doc. I’m here. Shh, shh…”
He runs his fingers through her hair as she coughs, her breath coming short and gasping in between. Her head falls back against his shoulder as she struggles to inhale deeply, and he can see the redness in and around her eyes. He puts a gentle hand against her chest, letting her feel his pulse and slow, rhythmic breathing as she struggles back to a stable pattern.
Valerie’s standing behind him, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder as he shrugs her away. Slowly, Marlena sags against him, her breathing returning to normal. He bats Valerie away once again as he reaches around Marlena’s hips to draw her into his lap, murmuring gently in her ear. “I got you, Doc. I got you. You’re okay.”
“John?” Her voice is raspy, shaking ever so slightly, as her hand closes around the zipper of his jacket.
“I’m here.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Don’t worry. It’s over. It’s all over.”
~.~.~.~.~.
Valerie assures them both that Marlena will be just fine. “I’ve bandaged her hands, the burns will heal soon. Her breathing is quickly approaching normal.” She speaks to Marlena, more than to John. He hasn’t let go of her since she woke, letting her lie against his body.
“But I think it’s going to take some time for you to recover from this.”
She doesn’t have to tell the psychiatrist twice. Marlena’s more alert, her eyes sharp and observing as her body rests. “I understand. Thank you.”
Offering the pair a smile, Valerie slips out of the room, looking over her shoulder once to see Marlena close her eyes and exhaling deeply.
The two don’t speak for a long time, her fingers rubbing the zipper of his jacket back and forth, his arms wrapped around her body. Lost in thought, held tight, she begins to drift again.
~.~.~.~.~.
“Kayla!”
She’s suddenly aware it’s been far too long since she heard the screams coming from the other side of the wooden prison. Barely able to breathe herself, she calls out again and again, praying for an answer.
“How does it feel, Marlena?”
His voice strikes her like a punch and she nearly doubles over as the coughing comes again and again. “Orpheus, don’t… don’t do this. Don’t hurt her.”
“But don’t you see, Marlena? It’s over. It’s all over. For Kayla and Patch. For your precious John. It’s finished.”
Any answer she could have given is sucked from her chest as her breath hitches with smoke. There’s still silence from the coffin beside her.
~.~.~.~.~.
She wakes again with a start, not quite trusting her breath to cooperate. She can’t remember where she is until he envelops her once again, his voice slightly slurred with sleep; it must be dark outside, though never quite night in the hospital.
“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, Doc.”
She lets him stroke her hair, lets him murmur comforting things to her. Thankful for the stream of oxygen coming from tube that pinches her face, she just breathes…
“I’m sorry,” she mutters, still coughing; would it never stop? “Sorry, John.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, my love.” He sits up and takes her chin in his hand, causing her to look into his eyes to see the truth in them. “Absolutely nothing to be sorry for. Orpheus would have done anything to keep us from each other. You know that.”
“Is Kayla all right?” She tries to sit up, but doesn’t quite resist when he pulls her body back against his. “I should go talk to her. I don’t know how she’s handling this.”
“You’re not going anywhere until you’ve slept for a solid eight hours and had something to eat,” he said with no room for argument, a slight smile on his lips. “Not necessarily in that order. Kayla has Steve. She’s not alone.”
She doesn’t protest again as they settle into her bed once again. “You’re gonna be okay, Doc. Just rest. Good as new by tomorrow, yes?”
Quiet for a moment, she looks up at him again. “I knew you would come for me.”
“Of course, Doc. Didn’t think you ever doubted.”
She reaches up to the buttons on the shirt below his jacket, her fingers trembling slightly as she undid them one by one. Exhausted, her body fell against him, nestling against his bare chest as she listened to his heartbeat, steady and reassuring. And as her she allowed her body to relax and drift, her breathing began to slow to match his, as they simply are.
The Jarlena Journal 