The fog rising above the water enveloped him as he stared out over the moonlit expanse of open water beyond the pier. The eerie silence mirroring his mood as he stood pensive and tense, hands clenched in the pockets of his coat.
He wasn’t sure what had pulled him to this place again tonight, but it was a feeling he hadn’t been able to ignore. The nagging in the back of his mind had refused to let go, the thoughts and scattered flashes of emotion confusing him as he had fought against them.
Sure, he’d visited this spot earlier in the day with Blondie, and she had explained it had always been a special spot for them, but that didn’t explain this unexpected pull. He couldn’t remember anything about that time that she had talked about. That was all a blank. All that was there were questions.
Why had they been separated? It was that question that nagged at him the most. His mind was a blank, an empty canvas, there was nothing there to help him, no flashes of memory, no glimmers of hope that he ever would remember.
Blondie assumed that he had not made any effort; she assumed that he had no interest in knowing her, of accepting her. She was wrong. He could see in her eyes that she wanted the “old” John back. She wasn’t willing to accept him, her “husband” for the man that he was now. It was this fear that he would never be that man again, never be able to fully be accepted by her for being the man that Stefano had created, that drove him to anger, defensiveness; that made the harshness within him explode full force.
His fists clenched tighter as he fought the clouds of his mind, wishing for that semblance of a memory, a flash; a hint that there was some remnant of that man left inside of him. He had fought that same haze over and over again since Blondie had removed him from the shackles in the hell of that basement lab. He had automatically wanted to trust her, to believe that she was truly going to help him; it had been almost second nature. Though his anger and his actions had not conveyed that to her. It was as though his mouth had a mind of its own, the negativity spewing forth from it without even being processed. It was the fear of more pain that had forced him to hide that below the surface.
He could feel the anger bubbling to the surface, as it had so many times over the past few months, when he had been faced with the knowledge that there were experiences, and events in his life that he had no recollection of. He had a child, yet he had no memory of that child’s birth or existence; he had a wife, a woman that he found incredibly attractive, yet infuriating, and he wondered if it had always been that way, had he always been so drawn to her, as though it were unfathomable that she not be in his life. Hell, he was a grandfather, and still nothing. The few cracks he had felt within his harsh new persona had not been enough to grant him any peace; they had only made him more confused.
Claire… his granddaughter… that kid had weaseled into his heart without him even realizing it. It saddened him that she had been the only one that he had been able to communicate with, even though a bit of the harshness remained even then. And now, she and his “daughter” were leaving town. Odd that it bothered him so much when he knew little about them. But, once again, the nagging was there. How was he supposed to know them, to learn them, to accept them, if they were not there? It wasn’t easy for him to admit to himself that these “feelings” were there. Wasn’t he supposed to be unable to “feel” anything, to be void of the ability for emotions to affect him?
Once again he felt the tension building within him. He didn’t understand this; he didn’t know how to understand this. Maybe Blondie had been right. Maybe hypnosis would help him, give him some beacon of light in this confusing darkness. Maybe…
Blondie… Marlena… she was always there, in his thoughts, invading his mind. His eyes closed as he stood there facing the water, the rhythm of its beat against the wooden beams of the pier lulling him, reliving the past few months that he could remember. One night in particular kept invading his thoughts; one night, that had carried over into the one morning that he couldn’t seem to get out of his head.
Her flesh had felt warm against his, her lips soft. Her hands had been possessive as they had clung to his body, as though she were unable to believe that the flesh beneath them was really him. It was a connection, not just of the flesh, but of something more for him. Not that he knew how to voice that… and what had he done then? Of course, he had allowed his mouth to overrule his mind again, and he’d messed everything up. Again.
Unclenching his hands, he removed them from his pockets, running them raggedly through his hair. He stood there motionless for a moment, feeling the unfamiliar tug within his chest, the tightness that came when he least expected it… always only when he was thinking about her. And then he felt it… the damp warmth against his face. Moving his finger to graze against his cheek, he felt the streaks, tasted the salty warmth as it passed over his lips.
Tears… he stood dumbfounded as he tried to calm himself once again. He actually felt tears. The robotic creation of his half-brother was actually able to cry… and as he stood there, he felt new confusion beginning to well within him… Maybe now was the time to allow her to help him; before he drove himself mad with his self questioning and doubt.
****************************************************************************
She could see him tremble as she stood upon the top step leading down to the pier. She could feel his turmoil… some things even his new demeanor could not change. There was still a lingering hint of that connection they had once shared. Not even the removal of his memories could take that away from them, from her.
She paused in mid-step as she started her descent down the stairs, doubting her decision to go to him, fighting the urge to turn and run rather than face him as he could be now. She was unsure of whether she could handle another of his tirades at the moment, her heart was already broken by the fact that their daughter was leaving. Odd that it always seemed to bother her just a little more when it involved their child… she loved all of her children, but that one true connection she would always share with him had always been just a little more special. She hated admitting that to herself; hated that it made her feel like a bad mother to the twins and even Carrie, but she knew it was the truth. Anything and everything involving him and their life together had always been just a little more important.
She swallowed her pride, and braced herself for the worst as she slowly allowed herself to continue her descent; her own trembling making her steps uneasy, her feet shaky beneath her. Her fingers clasped around the reason she had sought him out in the beginning, the coolness of its metal seeping through her palm. She didn’t know how he would perceive this gift, or even if he’d accept it, but she needed to try. She wanted to try.
She had sat in her car for nearly an hour before finding the courage to find him. She had argued with herself, reminded herself that this was not her John. That he was stranger who just happened to resemble her husband. But that resemblance was in appearance only. Every other mannerism, belief, action… those were foreign to her. Yet she had hope that somehow she’d find a way to break through that exterior, and find a way to make this man understand how much she loved him.
She had tried the mansion first, and had been greeted by Rolf at the door informing her that his master had taken off in a rush. She didn’t know why she had allowed herself to believe that he’d be here. It had been hope, and nothing more she was certain. Yet, here he was… and here she was. The coolness of the air, and the fog were almost surreal as they reminded her of their reunion years earlier.
That reunion had lead to another identity change. So many identities over the years… so many different names; John Black, Roman Brady, Forrest Alamain… Tony’s half brother, Stefano’s pawn, Stefano’s mercenary; her head spun just thinking about all of the jerking around this man had endured over the years, never truly knowing who he was. Yet each and every one of his identities had still loved her all the same. But this man, this creation, he felt nothing for her, with the exception of lust. It didn’t matter to her that he was now officially a Dimera, it had never mattered before. It did, however, matter that he seemed unwilling to give even an inch where she was concerned, that he was content to shut her out, not even attempting to get to know her.
Still, she would make the effort. She refused to give up… she might have to bend a little, but she refused to break.
She paused at the end of the steps, still uncertain of how, or even IF to proceed even after coming this far. So she did the same thing she had done almost 17 years earlier.
She softly spoke his name.
“John….”
“John….” her word was barely more than a whisper, yet he felt his body jerk in response to her voice.
John rubbed his hands against his cheeks, hoping that any moisture there would be ignored as he faced her. He may have been debating with himself that he should allow her to help him, but at this particular moment he did not feel like being analyzed.
“Is there some invisible leash on me that lets you know where I am at every moment of the day or night, or what?” there it was again, the callousness, the angry tone. God, would he ever be able to speak to her without sounding like an ass?
Clearing his throat he turned to face her. The stunned expression on her face conveying what he already knew. That once again he had stopped her in her tracks before she could even attempt to reach out to him.
“Sorry, Blondie…” he mumbled, unsure of exactly how to apologize when he wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for. There were so many things he could think he needed to apologize for at that moment, but voicing them was another matter altogether.
Marlena stood staring at him, momentarily regretting her decision to venture onto this pier with him, but knowing if she kept avoiding the anger and the hurt they would never make any progress.
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Or sneak up on you.” Again, she spoke softly, her voice conveying the unease within her as it trembled.
“You didn’t… I don’t even know why I am here if truth be told. I just needed some air,” John moved from the edge of the pier to lean against the building behind him, his blue eyes never leaving her face. “What are you doing here?” he asked, wondering what strange twist of fate had caused them to end up here at the same time tonight.
“I was looking for you.” Her reply was quick, exhaled on a single breath.
“And, you found me. How did you know I was here?” His questioning eyes searched her face for some answer. For some explanation as to how and why she always seemed to know where he was.
“I didn’t. I went to the mansion. Rolf said you weren’t there, and I sort of ended up here.” The answer was not entirely the truth, but she couldn’t exactly tell him that she still felt his presence, still felt a part of their connection. How did one explain something that almost everyone else had never understood in the first place? How did she explain to someone so cynical that they had always known what the other was feeling, and thinking? That they had always gravitated towards the same place, sometimes not even realizing why they were doing so until they were face to face with each other.
“Once again, I find myself wondering about that invisible leash… better yet, is there a tracking device planted on me somewhere that allows you to know my every move?”
“No, tracking devices were always your-,” she stops suddenly, unsure of whether this version of her “husband” would even listen to her as she reminisced about the past.
“Was I that obsessed with you Blondie? So obsessed that I planted tracking devices on you?” His voice held a hint of disgust, but somewhere, below that, she would have sworn that she could hear a hint of understanding, a grasping of the concept that maybe she hadn’t exaggerated their relationship.
“John. When it came to each other, I’d say that we both bordered on the edge of obsession. It was hard not to after the things that we have been through, both with our relationship and with our lives.” She sank against the building, her body mirroring his; her hands in her pockets, the cold metal of her gift still clutched in the palm of her right hand. She wishes she could just get this over with, but the need to just stand beside him, to be close to him, if only for a moment, outweighed that desire as she settled into silence beside him.
He stood for a moment, back against the damp wood behind him, allowing this tidbit to sink in, pondering the fact that they must have had a hell of a time together in the past. He gazed at her beside him, something oddly familiar about the way her hands clenched within her pockets, the outline of her tiny fists evident beneath the creamy wool of her coat. Once again there were the questions; questions he was sure only she could answer. Still, he wasn’t ready to ask… not yet.
“So Blondie, why did you need to find me so bad?”
Marlena glanced up at him, feeling the urge to reach out, to grasp his hand within hers, as she had done so many times as they walked along this pier. Fighting the urge, she reminded herself it was best to just move forward, and do what she came to do. If she was going to be rejected, as she feared, she might as well just bite the bullet.
“I, ummm… there was something I wanted to give you…” her words trailed off, apprehension apparent in her hesitance.
“Well?” John stared at her as he prodded her to continue, wondering what it was about her that made him want to both throttle her, but reach out and hold her at the same time. Her glassy eyes were brimming with tears now, conveying her fear of this situation, and he found himself wanting nothing more than to take that fear away, to reach out and brush those tears away. What the hell was going on with him tonight?
Marlena fingered the gold metal within her palms again, suddenly not wanting to let go of it. It was one of the few things she had kept for sentimental reasons that tied her to her John, but she needed to. She was no longer willing to avoid action. He might not care, he might never remember her… but she would never give up.
“Here…” her word and her hand both came forth in a rush, as she thrust the object held within it towards him.”It belongs to you anyway.”
John stared down at her hand; his eyes focusing on the golden object within it, and felt the quaking begin within him again. Hesitantly, he took it from her, his fingers moving over the crystal face of the small golden watch, as he grasped it within them, and once again he felt the confusion begin to grow.
John’s hand wrapped around the watch, willing himself not to show the emotions that suddenly ran through him. It was just a watch after all, right? So why did he suddenly feel as though his hand had been burned, as though there was something fighting it’s way forth within him that was so strong it threatened to bring him to his knees.
He stared at her again, noting the tears brimming in her eyes, the clenched fists at her sides, and suddenly he could feel her fear, her pain. How was that possible? How was he able to feel what she was trying so hard to hide?
“Have you given me this before Blondie?” John heard the husky tone of his voice, the emotion barely hidden as his fingers clasped the small token tighter within his hands.
Marlena stared up at him, noting the confusion that was evident on his face, her own a mirror of his as she tried to grasp the reason behind his question.
“Yes…” her answer was barely audible as she waited for his reaction, wondering what it was that could have triggered that response.
He could see her smiling, small bruises covering her cheek, her hand covered in a white bandage. He could feel the tension as she handed him his gift, the gold flecks of her sweater matching the ones in her eyes. Was this his imagination? Was he grasping at straws, or was this real?
“When?” It was the only thing John could bring himself to say, as the flood in his mind continued to assault him.
“Over 14 years ago… It was a Christmas present.” Marlena was unsure of what exactly to divulge, what exactly he would want to know. She wasn’t willing to open herself up without his asking, she wasn’t willing to face that rejection, not when it was in regards to memories of them that she cherished, even though some of them were attached to a painful time. Any memories of her life with him she cherished, and she would not allow him to trample on them with his disregard and lack of understanding.
“Did I actually like it then?” John mentally kicked himself for that. He could feel something within himself that told him he had loved it, that it was more valuable to him than just it’s worth as jewelry; yet there was that knee jerk reaction, almost like a little boy sticking his tongue out at his first crush.
Marlena just stared at him, the tears slowly overflowing from her eyes. Whatever moment they had shared, whatever connection she had felt with him only moments before vanished, and she realized once again that she was staring into the face of a stranger; a cold, heartless stranger. She felt her fingernails digging into her palms, her fists clenched so tightly that they were painfully embedding themselves against her skin. She wanted to slap him, to hurt him, to see some flash of an emotion within him that she knew was real.
“You son of a bitch! What the hell have I ever done to you to deserve you acting like this? All I have done is tried to help you.” Marlena glared at him, trying to calm her temper before she exploded fully. That wouldn’t be wise considering she had no idea how this man might handle an assault. “Give me the damn watch back!” She held her palm out, the shaking evident, as she glared at him, feeling the restraint she was trying to hold onto slowly slipping away. “Now!”
John just stared at her, his face a stone wall, as he studied her eyes, at the fire that suddenly seemed to be blazing beneath the tears. She was angry, he’d never seen her angry, not this angry, and for some reason he could not fight the urge to further push her buttons.
“No! You said it was mine anyway!”He knew he sounded like Claire, like a child that did not want to relinquish its toy, but at the moment he did not care. There was a part of him that felt pain at the idea of letting it go, and he wouldn’t.
The sting of her palm against his cheek shocked him, the movement so quick that he had not seen it coming. Yet, he did not move, it was as though he were frozen, statuesque with a look of surprise on his face.
“Keep the damned thing, and go to hell for all I care anymore!” And with that she was gone, her heavy footsteps echoing against the wooden pier, against the stairs as she took them two at a time to get away from him.
Still he stood, hand still clenched around the watch, his finger absently rubbing against it as he tried to comprehend what the hell had just happened, and then he felt it, the roughened metal on the back, the tiny indentations that peaked his curiosity. Turning it over, he held it up in the dim light of the lantern above him. He read the words, and felt the tightness within his chest once again, the flashes of her bandaged and bruised invading, and assaulting his mind, the idea of her being harmed in any way causing him physical pain.
“To JB, Thanks for giving me time. M.”
The Jarlena Journal 