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The Messenger Started by: Ilaria_Santoro on Nov 13, '18 22:16

Ilaria woke before the sun, opening her eyes to find Joe sleeping soundly beside her.  For this, she was grateful.  The last month had not been kind to most everyone she knew- least of all to Joe. He had already spent three weeks by her side in the hospital, barely leaving to get a shower and a change of clothes, and then back-to-back wars broke out.  Good friends were lost and many changes came about; some good, some difficult. Still through it all, Joe had been steadfast to both her and South Philly.  In her eyes, there was an angel sleeping beside her.

Standing, Ilaria stretched gently and rubbed her eyes as she padded through the loft toward the kitchen with a hot cup of tea on her mind. That was another change. She missed her coffee, but with a weak kidney, tea was much easier on her body and probably better for the baby.  Smiling sleepily, she brushed her hand over her belly as she filled a kettle with water.  Just 15 weeks to go.  While the first 20 weeks seemed to fly, the last 5 had felt like ages. Ilaria despised being on bed rest, but had eventually given in and taken the opportunity to catch up on research and preparing for projects that she would continue when she was back on her feet.

Today was that day.

With Arturo's move to take his own crew, Joe had turned to Ilaria to take the place of Right Hand. Of course, Ilaria didn't hesitate. She always wanted to be by his side, no matter which side that was. Today was her first official day back on the job, and the first order of business was a trip to Los Angeles to check on the airport.  Losing Kuklinski and Lang had been a blow to not only Midas, but to Joe and Ilaria personally.  They both agreed that they wanted to ensure the airport would continue to be successful and profitable for both cities. 

The kettle began to steam, then whistle.  Ilaria grabbed it from the stove eye before the high-pitched sound had a chance to wake Joe from his rest. He didn't need to be up right away. With the tea bag resting in the mug, she poured the steamy water over it, enjoying the earthy aroma that was released from the bag.  She carried the mug to the table beside the window and sat down, facing the large sycamore tree just outside the kitchen window. The leaves of the tree were brilliant yellows and oranges, and each time a chilly breeze passed, some of them would quiver and then float to the ground. The colors in Philly were much more vibrant than those of Venice, but it still reminded her of home.

From the corner of her eye, there was a flutter of feathers. Looking up from her cup, Ilaria saw a large bird alight onto a branch of the tree.  It was a golden eagle. Ilaria sat up and peered out the window, gazing at the great bird. His wings folded over him as his talons gripped the branch. As Ilaria lifted the cup to her lips, still watching, the bird turned his head, seeming to look directly at her. The two looked at each other, still and silent for a moment before the eagle dipped and bobbed his head in her direction. Ilaria tilted her head slightly, curious of what the bird might see. He then lifted his powerful wings, flapped them once, and took off back into the air. It all transpired in a brief amount of time, but left Ilaria feeling invigorated. Her grandmother used to love watching birds, and Ilaria remembered being told that eagles were a symbol of strength and resurrection.  Sitting back again, Ilaria smiled to herself. She'd come far too close to her own mortality, but once again found herself on the right side of the flower bed. The eagle reminded her that she still had things to do, something to contribute to the world. She took another sip of the tea and rested her free hand on the bump beneath her nightgown. Maybe more than one something.

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It wasn’t long before the altitude reached so many feet that everything below looked serene. It all meshed together like colors sprayed across a canvas. Like Joe was a God, looking down on creation through my pair of safety goggles.

There was that saying. To take a leap of faith. And to throw caution into the wind. Well as Joe stood there, holding onto the metal rails in the plane’s opened doorway ready to dive head first out of it, he was about to do both.

Then, there she was, elegant in her evening gown. Eyes only on him as she walked through the room. There was a feeling of nostalgia present, like a taste of morning sweetness as if the heart were weeping into the back of the throat. And in that instant Joe knew, he was in love with her.

It lasted only a second but felt like eternity had come and gone when the gunman pulled out his peacemaker and aimed it at her through the crowd. He saw his world crumble beneath him. Yet, she only had eyes for him. Although tragic, he felt it was better this way. As the bullet left the gun, those beautiful hazel's pierced his soul atop a set of smiling ruby red lips.

Joe kicked off the covers as he snapped awake, his heart beating out of his chest, clasping to no avail at the space in front of him as the image of her and the dream state faded. He slumped back onto the bed, his head hitting the pillow heavy, but relieved. He’d had another one. The third one of the sort this week. All with Ilaria looking beautifully pregnant, his love for her without bounds, before a gun pointed at her and shot a single bullet.

Dreams weren’t always what they seemed. Some symbolic, others an outpouring of the overactive subconscious. All were fascinating, though, if you took the time to study them like some did. There were those within a certain section of the community who did just this. And as Joe wiped his hands at his sleepy eyes and flush face, he’d finally come to that conclusion. He’d seek out this dream doctor before the day was done.

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