Chapter 106: Diogo

Taran screams and bolts upright, despite the burden of her midsection getting in the way. I try to grab her arm to prevent her from leaping right off the bed, but my own arm is weak and it falls back to the bed. She seems to understand, and relaxes back onto the bed, reaching for me, touching me with shaking hands.
"Emery!" she shouts, her eyes glued to me, expressions of panic and happiness duelling for supremacy on her face. "He's awake!"
Something clatters outside the room and feet hit the floor in a dead run. I watch in consternation as the door is thrown open and a stunned Emery flings herself into the room. She looks at me as though seeing at a ghost. Our eyes meet and hers fill with tears. She falls next to Taran on the bed and reaches for me, grabbing hold of my hand.
What the hell is going on? Since when have Emery and I been on touching terms?
As if understanding my confusion, Taran takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm herself, and then starts speaking. "You were unconscious, Diogo. You were hit on the head when the Tower collapsed. We we didn't know if you were ever going to wake up."
At first, I can't make sense of her words. Hit on the head? Tower collapse? Then memory begins to return, at first in sluggish flashes, then in a rush of images. An explosion. The fire. Taran crawling out the window, Taran's scream, running up the stairs, watching my man fall through the floor. Throwing Emery against the wall and covering her.
Despite the weakness in my body I force myself up, grab hold of Taran's arms and pull her toward me until our faces are nearly touching. "You fell." The burn of fear rises up inside me as I try to imagine what happened to her.
She touches my cheek, running her fingers down my scar and resting them on my jaw. "Yes, I did. The window I was holding onto blew out from the force of the fire. But I didn't fall far, maybe ten feet. Stryker was underneath, he was fighting the rebels. He caught me."
I groan and wrap my arms around her, holding her close against me with all my strength. Luckily, my strength is not much or I would crush her. She pulls away to look into my face, tears sparkling in her eyes. She touches me again, stroking my cheek as if she can't believe I'm here with her.
Finally, she pulls back and shakes her head as if to clear it. She turns to Emery and says, "Can you go find Bishop? I think he's doing rounds over at the old elementary school. He'll want to see Diogo right away."
When Emery leaves, Taran explains. "The school was turned into a makeshift hospital. There've been casualties. Bishop offered his expertise and the rebels were in no shape to argue. He seems to have proven himself to them, they ask him to come over almost daily."
I try to make sense of her words, try to understand the meaning behind them. I look around and realize that we're in Taran's old bedroom, in Emery's house. I'm deep in rebel territory in Sector 13.
"Why am I here?"
She seems to understand the wider meaning to my question. "After we pulled you and the other survivors out of the Tower  "
"Who?" I interrupt.
She shakes her head, her eyes distant. "Just you, Emery and Grayson. Only half the Tower fell and the stairwell was mostly protected. But the rest of your men were" She stops speaking for a few seconds. Then she looks at me. "The Tower fall seemed to end fighting in the area. I think the seriousness of what'd happened struck both the rebels and the city police force. They stopped fighting and started looking for survivors. When they dug you out, they brought you to Bishop. That's where I'd been taken."
"You're okay?" I demand, touching her stomach. "The baby?"
She puts her hand over mine and presses it against her belly. A shock of familiarity runs through me, the sensation telling me she's done this before while I was unconscious. The baby kicks against my hand, strong and hard, harder than before the building collapse. I automatically yank my hand away in disbelief before replacing it just as fast to catch the next kick.
Taran laughs. "We're both fine. He's a tough little guy."
"He?"
She shrugs. "Until we find out the sex it helps calling him something other than it."
We sit in silence for a few minutes, her hand over mine as I feel the strong little kicks. I'm filled with awe as I feel a tiny fist or foot press against Taran from the inside. The sensation can't be comfortable, but she just continues to smile and experience the moment with me, her eyes soft and her face peaceful. More peaceful than I've ever seen it. I can tell that she's come to terms with the imminent birth of our child. There doesn't seem to be any hesitation about her anymore. I'm happy that she's doing so well, but disappointed that I missed even a moment of our time together.
"How long have I been out?" I finally ask the question that needs to be asked.
She hesitates for a moment and then says, "Twenty-two days."
I'm shocked by the number. It seems impossible that I could've missed three weeks of my life, but it does explain the weakness in my limbs. The pain in her voice tears at me as she recalls the days that I was out, the waiting and wondering, hoping and despairing. I would bring the world to her feet if I thought it would make her happy, but there's nothing I can do to reclaim our lost time, or the pain it has caused her. She opens her mouth to continue speaking, but chokes on the words, blinking rapidly, trying to stop the tears that threaten. That's my Taran, trying to be brave despite her pain.
"We're okay," I tell her, gathering her close again. "All three of us."
"Yes," she whispers, clutching me.
We stay like that until the shuddering of her body passes and her breathing returns to normal, her emotions under control. I tip her face up and ask, "Why am I here, instead of the military compound or Bishop's office?"
I suspect I already know, but I have to ask. The details will help me create a plan for moving forward.
She settles back on the bed and tells me, an edge of anger to her voice, what's been happening in my city. "After the Tower collapse, it became quickly clear that your position was being threatened, almost like he was waiting for you to fall. We were afraid you'd be executed in the new Warlord's bid for power, so we decided the best course was to tell everyone you'd died and move you into rebel-held territory. Our lie was not a strong one since we couldn't produce a body, but no one thought to look for you here. Since you weren't seen alive or dead, news of your demise spread through the city. So far our plan has worked. You've been safe to recover for as long as it takes."
"There is only one Warlord," I growl, the idea of another usurping my position sparking anger. I shouldn't be surprised by the coup. Though I'd held strong to this Sanctuary, it is a universal truth that when one Warlord falls, another will rapidly step into his place. And someone was taking steps to weaken my hold on the city before the rebellion had even reached its peak. "Did no one think to connect you to me? Follow you back here to see if I was hiding out?"
She shakes her head, her eyes shadowed as she lifts them to mine. "We spread the rumour that I died as well. We said I went into early labour when I found out you'd been killed, and I hemorrhaged after some complications. I haven't left the house since we went into hiding. Only those who are completely loyal to us are allowed here."
She finishes her little speech in a rush as though she knows the effect her words will have an me. And she's correct. The thought of anything happening to her sends an icy bolt up my spine toward my heart. The vivid images she's painted, a reality that is all too possible in our world, are threatening to send me into a rage.
I clench my fists and breathe through the fury squeezing my chest. When I get my hands on the usurper, he will die a slow and extremely painful death. And I don't have far to look, I know exactly who has caused this pain. Who's sown the seeds of destruction throughout Sanctuary. I should've seen it earlier, but his solid, unquestioning presence at my side never set off any inner alarms. I believed him to be a good man, if somewhat cold and unapproachable. All of my soldiers are built that way. It takes a certain personality to survive the elite military, and he has every quality. Including a thirst for power. One I should have seen sooner.
I grip the edge of the bed and force my weight up, standing on uncertain feet. I rock back and forth for a moment as my center of balance adjusts. Pins and needles rush through my body as it slowly comes back to life, reminding me I've been comatose for over three weeks.
"What are you doing?" Taran asks, her eyes wide and her voice sharp with worry.
I look down at the beautiful face of my wife, taking in the healthy glow in her now rounded cheeks. I will do anything to protect her and our unborn child, even the things she doesn't want me to. A mantra I've often thought to myself. She deserves the world, so I will seize it. Take it back and place it at her feet.
"I'm going to kill Jorje Cruz and take my city back."