"Hey, Doc? Sweetheart?" Roman touches her arm and she starts slightly. "Are you feeling okay?" He asks her this solicitously as she turns dreamy eyes on him.
"Mmmm?" She hums the reply with listless inattention; as though she is a lifetime away from him, lost and fragmented. And then she sees his concern and in an instant she seems to come alive again; her awareness floods back to the present and she smiles, almost guiltily. "Oh, yes. Of course I am." She sees the disbelief flash in his eyes and she starts with a too quick, too earnest smile. "I'm fine, Roman."
"You don't...." he frowns, looking past her for a moment, his own gaze drifting to the endless expanse of sky beyond the window of the plane. Then he looks back at her, his eyes soft and concerned. "You didn't look fine Marlena. You looked like you were a million miles away. You weren't with me at all."
"I was... I was just...." She emits a gentle sigh and a tiny smile brushes her lips. "There's a lot going on in my head, Roman. It's a lot to absorb. To put into some kind of.... order." Her eyes narrow and she looks down at her pale hands, clasped tightly in her lap. "You think I shouldn't have gone." The words are quiet, but hard. There's an anger behind them that makes Roman start in surprise.
"I think it was..." he raises one eyebrow and looks at her cautiously. "Well, it didn't exactly-" He stops himself again and takes a deep breath. Letting her bait him right now is not a good idea. She needs his support more than she needs to know that he thinks she was wrong. There'll be plenty of time for that later. When she's not so fragile. When she's not so raw and broken.
"Doc," he says gently as he covers her hands with his. "I understand. You have to do what you have to do. I just... I'm worried about you, is all. You're right; you've had a lot to absorb. A lot of things have changed now and we have a lot to deal with. I just want you to know you can trust me and I want you to know that we are going to work this through together, no matter what happens."
"No matter what?" Her voice is wavering, small and plaintive and almost lost in the dull drone of the jet engines and the quiet hubbub of the people in the seats that surround them. "Even if our children look at me like I'm some kind of monster? Even if I'm taken to the medical counsel and stripped of all my qualifications? Even if we have no money because I destroyed everything we had?" Her eyes grow red and she bites her lower lip until it is ghostly white. Then she closes her eyes and looks away, unable to bear the way Roman's returned stare blazes its way deep into her soul. She has no protection with him, no way to shield herself from his evaluation. He knows her so intimately that it's useless to hide from him. He knows that she hates herself for everything she has done as Grace, yet he won't allow her to seek due punishment for her crimes. Or even to apologize for them.
But while logic tells her that he's right, it is rendered impotent by the guilt, anger and grief that flood her head and her soul. And her heart feels as though it is being torn from her every time a memory flutters mercilessly into her consciousness.
"Oh Doc." His words are like droplets of sorrow that spill into the chasm that lays between them and the sadness in his voice slices through her like a knife. She screws her eyes tighter closed, but the action proves as useless in stemming the tide of self-hatred and guilt as any other she has tried in the past few weeks. She'd thought she had it under control; and then she'd seen Stefano. Allowed his malevolent black gaze to unfold all the secrets she'd been holding close within her. Let his malicious words and his pernicious laughter crawl over her skin and pierce the fragile shell that she had woven to hold her shattered self together. He had broken her all over again and of course, Roman was right, she never should have gone.
And now, here she is, flying to face her family. People who should never be asked to forgive the things that she's done. She's not ready. She’s not at all sure she’ll ever be ready to face that, to see the doubt and the questions in their eyes. To face them knowing that they know what she has done. They’ll try to hide it, of course. They’ll paint slightly too bright smiles on their faces and clutch at her with hands slightly too tight. They will endeavor to welcome her back into the heart of the family like nothing has happened. But they will know and she will know that they know. And she’s not sure that she can bear that. She can't forgive herself, so why should she expect any more from them?
"I'm sorry, Roman," she turns her head away again, as though she is searching for something in the far powder blue distance. "I just don't think I can do it."
"Do what?" he asks, the anxiety he feels spilling through into the harshness of his tone.
"I don't know." She shrugs listlessly. "All of it. Any of it."
“You’re not making sense, baby,” he says, unable to keep the desperation he feels from seeping through into the urgency of his tone. “We said we were going to do this together. You were going to try. It’s not just you; it’s our children. Belle. And Sami…”
“You think Sami is going to accept any of this?” she turns on him, her anger suddenly scalding. “Roman, she *loved* that man. She thought he was her father and even if he wasn’t, she loved him for ten years. And *I* was the one that killed him.” She holds out her hands, fingers trembling. Her voice is low and fierce as she spits the words at him. “These hands. Killed a man. And not just one. And you expect me to face my daughters, knowing that they will find out the things I did?”
“Doc…” Roman stops, unsure what to say to her. He’s tried all the tacks he knows to approach her with this. He can only reinforce what he has told her before; he can’t bring anything new to the table, not now. This is a battle he can’t help her fight, the one against her own guilty conscience. He can only be there beside her, to catch her when she falls.
He touches her hands lightly, intending to take them in his, but she snatches them away before he can fold his fingers around hers. As though she can’t even bear to allow him to ease her guilt with some kind of comfort. Frowning, he shakes his head. “Marlena, I know this is hard, but do you think it will be any easier for the kids to accept if you’re not there to explain it to them? If you hide yourself away, do you think it will be any easier on them?”
“I don’t know what I think!” she cries before burying her face in her shaking hands. Roman pulls her to him and wraps his arms around her. He presses his lips to the top of her head, smelling the familiar, sweet fragrance of her as she fights her internal battle within the safety of his embrace. Finally, she lifts her head and looks up into his bright blue eyes. “I don’t know what to do, Roman,” she says, almost pleads, in a strangled whisper. “I don’t know what to think, what to feel. I keep trying to fight this, to be strong but I… it feels like a war is going on inside my head and I don’t know that I have the strength to fight it and to explain and defend myself to our family too.”
“Okay.” That argument makes sense to him and he nods gently. He’s not going to force her to do anything she’s not ready to do. He knows how hard this is for her, he’s fought similar battles himself and without her he would have foundered. She had never asked anything more of him than to travel the journey with him at his pace. He can do as much for her. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We’ll go home and we’ll talk to the family only when you’re up to it, okay?”
Marlena looks up at him, searching his face for an indication of the truth behind his words. “Are you sure?” she asks tentatively.
“Absolutely I’m sure,” he nods with a tender smile. It melts into a serious and concerned expression as he lifts a hand and strokes a damp strand of hair from her cheek. “I know you’ve been through hell. I’m not going to add to it for you. We’ll take this at your pace, okay?”
“And what about the girls?” Marlena asks, recalling his earlier words. Concern shades her golden eyes as she thinks of Sami and Belle and her last interactions with her children. She’d hurt them so much and so coldly and deliberately. Particularly, the idea of facing Sami now, after she finally seemed to be coming to terms with the past fills her with dread.
“I’ll talk to the kids,” Roman assures her, running a soothing hand over her hair. “*All* of them. We’ll all just have to manage the best we can for the time-being, mmmm?”
“Mmmm.” Marlena forces a wavering smile and nods. But she finds herself feeling far from convinced as she leans her head on his shoulder. In fact, rather than feeling relieved, she feels even more nervous and conflicted than she did before.
*
Marlena looks around her as Roman closes the door and drops their meager baggage on the floor. This is home, but it doesn’t feel like her home. Not like the comfortable haven she’s loved for so long. This place is ingrained with a foreign presence.
The ghost of Grace lives on here. She exists in the spaces between the known and the unknown. In the extravagant accessories, throws and cushions on the couches. The conspicuous lack of familiar pictures. In strange, sexy clothes and shoes carelessly strewn around the room. In the dirty martini glasses sitting and lying on various surfaces.
Roman follows her gaze and feels himself cringe as he sees the wreckage that Grace has left behind her. It is an all too harsh reminder of the ordeal they have both been through. Like picking the scab from a still raw wound.
Marlena winces and slides her hand up to rest against her bandaged side. She leans heavily against the table and Roman is immediately beside her, his hands gently insistent on her upper arms.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and have a rest, Marlena?” The tension emanating through his hands and in his voice doesn’t help and Marlena feels her nerves tighten, augmenting the throbbing in her side with lancing pains. She bites on her lower lip to keep from crying out and shakes her head.
“Will it be any better up there?” she asks in a strained voice. From the memories that she can call on, she doesn’t expect that it will be. Roman’s face confirms her thoughts. “Didn’t think so,” she forces a harsh laugh between gritted teeth. She manages a smile before inclining her head and kissing him on the cheek. “Anyway, I’ve had enough lying down to last me a lifetime. I think I could use some fresh air though.” She wrinkles her nose, a scant defense against Grace’s pungent perfume which lingers in the air, as impossible to ignore as the other reminders of her presence. “I think I’ll go and sit on the terrace for a while.”
“Are you sure?” Roman’s voice trails after her as she walks across the living room, ignoring the detritus that litters her home and her life. She nods, barely trusting herself to speak as she makes for the French doors. She won’t break down again, she won’t let herself. She has to be strong, has to fight through this for his sake. For her children’s sake. For the sake of her own sanity.
Opening the doors, she takes in the early summer evening as the long rays of ancient sunlight spread across the roofs below her. Up here the air has lost some of the sultry heaviness she’s been associating with the long, hot days in
She can hear Roman moving about the living room, but she doesn’t turn to watch him. It doesn’t really matter what he does. Even if he eliminates every trace of evidence that Grace ever existed, she’ll still know. Because Marlena can still feel her. Inside her head.
She can still feel Grace’s rage and her fire. She can still remember how it felt to *be* Grace inside her skin, to feel those alien feelings. To burn with hatred and anger and passion. And to feel so damn invincible.
Truth be told, what’s really messing with her head is that she’s not sure she wants to stop feeling those things. She’s not so sure that she just wants to go back to being Marlena. To go back to being the perfect mother, perfect wife and lover. For so long she’s been missing something, some spark, something of herself that was so strong and self-sufficient. Grace wouldn’t have let Kristen walk all over her. Grace wouldn’t have let Stefano toy with her like a cat with some kind of helpless plaything. And she knows the Marlena of old wouldn’t have either. Grace might have been many things that Marlena doesn’t like, but beneath all the things that Stefano twisted her into, there is a grain of a truth that is part of Marlena, whether she likes it or not. Part of herself that she lost when Grace was locked away inside her unconscious mind.
So, now she just has to work out how the hell to put it all back together. To draw a fresh, whole Marlena out of the broken ruins she holds inside this battered shell of the woman she once was. Whomever she was. Marlena is not even sure she knows anymore who she was. She certainly has no idea who she will be in light of what she now knows about her missing years. She’s as much a stranger to herself as Grace ever was and it’s a very odd feeling.
She sighs and rubs her hands over her face. It’s a moment before she realizes that Roman is talking on the phone and she finds herself listening to the one-sided conversation. At the least, it’s a blessed distraction from the storm of questions she keeps asking herself.
“Listen, can you put them off? She’s tired, it was a long flight and she’s still in pain. She’s just not up to it.” A pause. “They’re there now?” Another pause. She can imagine Roman pursing his lips, maybe stroking his eyebrow in discomfort. “Well, I don’t know…. just tell them something. Tell them we were delayed and we’re not home yet.” A long pause this time and she leans back to see if she can see Roman’s reaction. However, the ache in her side flares with the stretch and she gasps in pain. Clasping her hand to her stomach again, she turns when she hears footsteps and she sees Roman appear at the door, concern clouding his eyes,
She mouths the words “I’m okay” to him and he nods silently. All the time, the phone is still at his ear. Finally, he sighs. With a glance to make sure Marlena is really all right, he turns and re-enters the living room, as if intending to take the conversation away from her earshot. If that’s his objective however, he fails miserably. It’s a still day and as he continues to talk, his hushed voice carries well on the warm air.
“Well I guess I’d better come down then.” He sounds resigned and there’s something else in his tone. Maybe it’s anxiety, maybe apprehension. Either way, he’s clearly dreading the confrontation to come. “I really wanted to do this with Doc, but if you don’t think they’re going to be satisfied with another delay…” Another pause and then, “No. No, you’re right, Bo. Of course it’s not fair on them. They need answers and we’ve asked them to wait long enough.”
Marlena watches him as he moves father away from her. She has to strain to hear him now, but even while she does, she’s not really listening. She’s thinking of the stress on his face. Wondering why she expects him to take the burden when it’s really hers to shoulder. She’s being utterly selfish if she expects him to face their family by himself. This should be his celebration, his homecoming. This is joyous news to share with the family and instead he will be faced with questions that are unanswerable and demands for explanations that are impossible to give.
Surely, after everything she has put him through in the past few months, she owes it to him to stand with him shoulder to shoulder. The questions are hers to answer, the explanations hers to give. Whatever they might be. She has to face her family at some point. She has to start being strong some time. She can’t always hide behind Roman. Not now. Not ever. He can’t protect her from this any more than he could protect her from Grace herself. This is her battle, not his.
And it awes and amazes and hurts her that he would take on that battle for her without even a second thought. That he would allow her the luxury of hiding, of burying her head in the sand. Even though it might be the worst thing for her, she knows he can’t bear to see her in pain. He’d do anything to protect her, he’s proven that. He proves it every day. Whatever Grace had thought of him, she couldn’t have been more wrong about how far he would go to protect her. To save her.
Her eyes glitter in the sunlight as she watches him jam a hand in his pocket and turn around. He flashes her a strained smile and then turns away again. God, she loves that man. She loves him beyond reason, and she won’t let him save her again. At least, not from this.
By the time she manages to raise herself from the chair and make her way to the open doors, he has finished his call.
“Heeey,” he comes towards her with his hands outstretched. “I thought you were resting.”
“I was.” She puts her hands in his, marveling at how frail they look. No wonder he feels that he has to protect her. She must look so helpless. She has been so helpless; she’s let herself become a victim time and time again. But, no more. These frail hands have done things that she can’t even grasp. She’s not the person she was. And she’s completely the person she was, more than ever. She’s not fragile, not with Roman by her side. She can take on the world with him at her side. And more than that, she *can* face her family. She’s ashamed and she’s scared but they deserve explanations and Roman deserves so much more than she can ever give him.
She smiles at him, a feeling of serenity flooding her soul.
“Listen Doc, that was Bo on the phone,” he says. He has composed himself to face her, to ease her guilt and the twitch in his cheek the only thing to betray the tension he feels. “Uh, the family is there already so I don’t think I can put this off. I’ll have to go and –“
“Roman,” she puts her fingers up to his lips and stills his speech. “It’s okay; you don’t have to do this on your own.” Confusion clouds his eyes and she smiles as she strokes the hair at his temple. “I changed my mind,” she says simply. “I’m sorry; I never should have expected you to have to bear this weight by yourself.”
“I don’t mind, honey,” he says quickly as he returns her smile with an all too convincing one of his own. “Really. You don’t have to.”
“Yes. I do.” She nods a solid affirmation of her words. “I owe a lot of people explanations and apologies. Putting it off isn’t going to make things easier for me. I’ve thought about it and I know I need to do it now. No putting it off, no running and hiding, no letting you do my dirty work. That isn’t fair on you and it’s not fair on our family. And honestly, it’s not fair on me either. It’s not who I am. Not any longer.”
She smiles as she says the words. They feel right and strong and she feels better for saying them. Slightly more solid, more whole. She knows she has a long, long way to go, but she knows that these are the first steps on the right path.