Black (Part 5)

Davis looked up at Francesca from the couch. She had changed her hair from black to auburn, but her eyes were the same. He smiled at seeing her face again, but his smile fell quickly when he realized he was supposed to kill her. "Francesca," Davis said quickly, "You have to leave. Tonight. Someone has hired me to kill you." Francesca's eyes opened wide asking an unspoken question; searching for answers. "Yes, Francesca, I am an assassin. That's what--"

"I know what you are, Jackson!" Francesca yelled. "What I don't know, is why you disappeared for two years, why you don't remember marrying me, and why you don't remember bringing me back from Panama!"

"I don't know!" Davis was as concerned with this information as Francesca was. "I don't know why I don't remember, but I can only guess that it's because the people I work for needed my...talents. All this time, I've thought you were dead." Davis rose from the couch and put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. She fell into his arms and began to cry. Davis held her tightly and sighed heavily. His eyes were shut tightly allowing emotion to wash through him. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes and began to run down his face. He opened his eyes and looked around at the room as he could see it. His vision was blurred by the tears, but he fought them back as best as he could. To his right was the hall they had walked through earlier and to his right was a playpen with the small boy inside. My son! Davis thought.

He pulled away from Francesca and looked at her with excitement and curiosity. "Is this-is he our son?" Francesca turned to face the playpen and smiled.

"Yes," she said. She reached down and picked him up and handed the boy to Davis. "His name his Joseph." Davis took the boy in his arms and held him close. Davis held him for a long time, cooing and saying the name Joseph over and over. Joseph smiled and laughed as his father held him for the first time.

After a few hours of talking about the last five years, Davis' phone rang abruptly. The shrill ring pierced the relative quite of the house. "Hello?" Davis said as he flipped the phone open.

"Hello, Jackson. Is it nice to be home?"

Shock and an unfamiliar emotion Davis knew to be fear fluttered through him. "Just who is this?" Davis asked unsteadily. "How do you know that name?"

"Isn't that your name, Jackson?" The man on the other end answered. "Now that you are home, I figured I would use your real name. Perhaps, you should have kept your memories when you left. If you had, you might have been able to avoid this day, but, you decided to make it easier on yourself and forget your family so you wouldn't be tempted to return and have this day happen. It was an inevitability. I will win, Jackson. You once tortured someone very close to me, so now it is your turn."

"What do you want?!" Davis bellowed into the phone. Francesca's eyes grew wide in fear and picked her son up instinctively and held him to her chest.

"Patience," the voice responded coldly. "Does Francesca know what you did to her first husband?" Davis just sat there, wordless. "I'm going to say that's a no. It's a shame, really. If she did, it would be easier on you, but now you must tell her."

"Why? What point will it make? What purpose will that serve?!"

"It will let her know who you really are. What darkness really lives inside of you. You have 15 minutes, or I tell her."

"How? I'll answer every phone call. You'll never speak to her."

"And the game has started. I hope you'll be more cooperative in the future Jackson. It really will be easier." The line went dead and Davis turned to Francesca.

"Francesca, we need to talk..."