Chapter 6 - First Steps in the Dark

It was 2:00 AM. The estate was dead quiet, save for the rhythmic patter of rain against the high windows.

In the long gallery on the second floor, lined with oil paintings of former Chicago shipping tycoons, Luca stood alone.

He was not in his wheelchair.

He was wearing gray sweatpants and a black shirt, his fingers gripping the mahogany handrail that ran along the wall. His legs were shaking violently, his knees buckling under the sheer weight of his six-foot-two frame. Sweat drenched his neck, his teeth grinding together so hard his jaw ached.

One step.

He lifted his right foot. Pain flared up his calf like a hot iron blade, but his heel struck the floorboards.

Two steps.

His left leg gave out. Luca fell heavily to the right, his shoulder slamming into the wall, sliding down toward the floor.

Before he hit the wood, two arms caught him from behind.

Elena held him tightly under his armpits, her breath hot against his neck as she pushed her weight against his, preventing him from collapsing entirely.

"I've got you," she gasped, her legs bracing against the floor. "I've got you, Luca."

Luca leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, his head resting against her shoulder. For the first time in twelve years, he felt the warmth of another human body holding him upright.

"You shouldn't be here," Luca choked out, his voice raw with exhaustion.

"I couldn't sleep," Elena whispered. She looked up at him, her eyes dark in the dim moonlight filtering through the window. "I heard you from down the hall."

"Look at me, Elena," Luca said, bitterness creeping into his tone. "The great Luca Costello. Standing like a toddler learning to walk."

Elena didn't let go. She tightened her grip on his waist, pulling his arm over her shoulder.

"I don't see a toddler," she said fiercely. "I see a man fighting his way back from the dead for his daughter."

Luca looked into her eyes. The anger, the grief, the twelve years of isolation seemed to melt away under her steady, unyielding gaze. Slowly, using Elena as his anchor, Luca straightened his back.

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He stood upright. Six feet two inches off the ground.

For three minutes, they stood together in the dark gallery, saying nothing, holding each other up as the rain beat against the glass.