Chapter 136: Diogo
She's softening. It'd been a gamble, taking her into the desert, forcing her to face a terrible and bloody past. Taking her to the last place she'd seen her ex-husband alive. It hadn't been easy standing there with her, describing some of the most excruciating moments of my life as I detailed how I searched for her body among the torn apart corpses littering the ground. Her anger is still alive and well, but she is beginning to soften. To understand my point of view. No person, human or Primitive, man or woman, will get away with harming my woman, my wife, my Sanctuary.
Our drive to the city is as silent as it'd been on our way out, but this time the silence filling the vehicle is contemplative rather than angry. I suspect Taran is lost in memory and I'm sorry for that. I regret causing her even a moment's discomfort. But if forcing her to face the past is our way toward repairing a future then I'll do what it takes.
The city gates open for us, welcoming us home. I drive through and head toward Sector One, but not our new place. No, I drive toward the burned-out shell of the Tower. As we approach, Taran sits up straighter and leans toward the windshield, her sharp eyes taking in the devastation. She hasn't been back since the fire that nearly claimed both of our lives and the precious life of our son.
"Diogo, I'm tired," she says, almost pleadingly. She's beginning to understand that I'm taking her on a trip through our worst memories, showing her how fragile our happiness is. That she would be a fool to throw that away on a man like Xavier Gunther.
"I know," I tell her. "This will be our last stop before home."
Her lips turn down unhappily, but she nods her acquiescence and sits quietly as I bring the jeep to a stop as close as I can to the burned-out ruins of the Tower. She allows me to take her arm when I round the jeep to her side again, and willingly slides out onto the road. We take several steps together until our toes touch a twisted metal beam laying in the road in almost the exact spot where I used to park against the curb.
Together we look out across the devastation of twenty floors of apartment building burned to the ground. The acrid smell of burnt wood still permeates the air, flooding our senses and taking us instantly back to the night the rebels burnt down our home and stole our sense of security in Sanctuary. Taran crosses her arms over her chest, her gaze distant and unseeing. As I'd done in the desert, I stand behind her and hold her against my chest as I speak.
"Sending you through that window was the hardest most unselfish thing I've done in my life. Harder than the first life I took when I was a young boy. Harder than destroying my father. Harder than taking this Sanctuary and turning it into a fortress. In fact, if I was faced with making that choice again, I don't know if I could do it." I have to stop speaking for a moment as the memory of sending my pregnant wife out into the unknown darkness of a violent rebellion punches me in the stomach and steals my breath. "I thought I was sending you out into certain death, just a death slightly less certain than my own. Watching you crawl down the side of the building, your face filled with fear and despair... felt like severing my own limb."
We stand together not saying anything as she absorbs my words, the sentiment behind them, the very real probability that we could've died here, among the ruins of our old home.
"I thought I was leaving you behind to die," she says softly, her voice catching. "I thought when I looked up at you, at the anguish on your face, that it would be the last time I'd ever see you. There's only one thing that could've driven me from your side and forced me to leave you to die in a burning building alone."
"Blaze," I finish for her.
"Blaze," she acknowledges, then laughs unexpectedly. She turns to look up at me, her eyes shining with tears and humour. "I just realized, we named our son Blaze, as in fire. Our child damn near died in a fire and we named him after fire."
I chuckle, unable to resist smiling. I kiss the tip of her nose and her eyes widen at my move. She stares up at me, her gaze searching my face. I can feel her beginning to weaken. She may despise my methods, but her love for me is stronger than her convictions.
"I'm sorry I hurt you," I tell her, hoping she can hear the sincerity. Hurting my wife is the last thing in the world I would ever want to do.
She searches my face. "You're sorry for hurting me, but not sorry for what you did."
There's no point in answering her, she already knows my response. She shakes her head, a shutter falling over her eyes as she pulls away from my arms and turns back to the car. She climbs inside and stares straight ahead, waiting for me to join her.
I wait a moment, wait for the wave of helpless rage to pass. I'm creating the opportunity and path for her to find her way back into our marriage on her own. I don't want to have to force her hand, to take away her free will again, but her stubborn attitude is backing me into a corner. I have one last thing up my sleeve before I give into the urge to force Taran back into my life and my bed.
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