Story Notes:
This is set in 2016, some time after Eric’s sentencing, but it’s an attempt to deal with a bit of the ugliness that went on in 2013 that the show never really resolved to my satisfaction. It’s not my usual at all, so if you’re looking for #NumNums or witty repartee, look elsewhere. It has a happy ending, though, because I am constitutionally incapable of anything less. 🙂
Also, #RomanWarning. But don’t be too worried–I don’t like him, and it shows!
John woke a little after four to find Marlena’s side of the bed empty, the sheets cool to the touch. It might not have worried him if she’d seemed all right when they went to bed, but she had been unnaturally quiet all evening. Not short-tempered or anything like that, but distracted and preoccupied and not at all her usual self. She hadn’t seemed inclined to talk about it, and he hadn’t pressed the issue–Doc was entitled to have an off day without having to explain herself to him–but if whatever was weighing on her mind had driven her out of bed at this hour, then he was at least going to check on her.
He found her on the couch in the living room, sitting in the dark with her arms wrapped around her knees, a long-cold cup of tea forgotten on the end table beside her. She was obviously freezing, her thin pajamas doing nothing to ward off the night’s chill, but it was the expression on her face that really got to him–a lost, desolate, all-alone look that absolutely broke his heart. Whether she wanted to talk or not, there was no way he was just leaving her like this.
“Hey,” he said softly, not wanting to startle her.
She blinked like she was coming out of a trance. “Oh, John. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.” He lifted the fleece throw from the back of the recliner and nodded toward the empty space beside her on the couch. “Mind if I join you?”
“Of course not.”
He was a little afraid she might pull away, but the moment he sat down she all but crawled into his lap, snuggling close and allowing him to wrap the throw around both of them. She was shivering, and her fingers were like ice, prompting John to draw her hands up against his bare chest and hold them there.
“Honey, how long have you been sitting here like this? You’re freezing.”
“An hour, maybe?” She gave a little shrug, burrowing deeper into his arms. “I don’t know. I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“No point in both of us having a sleepless night.”
Her tone was light, but there had been a slight pause before she answered. Just a split second, but enough to make John more sure of what he’d already suspected–that whatever was going on with her had something to do with him. Which was odd, considering how readily she had curled up in his arms like this.
“Did you have a bad dream?”
She shook her head against his shoulder. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Eric?” he hazarded, although Eric’s most recent letter had actually seemed to make her feel better. He was coping just about as well as any man in his position possibly could, and John knew how proud Marlena was of him for working so hard on his recovery.
“No.” She took another of those odd little pauses. “Or, well…not directly. I don’t… It’s not anything you can fix, okay?” she finally said.
“Okay.” He took a moment to mull that over. “Is that why you don’t want to talk to me about it? You’re afraid I’ll try to fix it?”
She surprised him by laughing, though the sound was anything but amused. “No. No, I can honestly say that thought never crossed my mind.”
“Huh?”
She pulled away, trying to disentangle herself from both him and the blanket. “You know what? Let’s just go back to bed. I don’t want to get into this again.”
“Again?” John asked, keeping his arms around her.
“Yes, again.” She stopped and sighed, then finally looked at him. “Look, if I tell you why I’m upset, you’ll be angry. Then, in addition to being upset about what I’m already upset about, I’ll be even more upset because you’re angry. Can we please just skip this for once?”
John blinked, taken aback by her sudden change in tone. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” he pointed out, keeping his own tone as mild as possible. “Can you maybe give me a chance to not be angry?”
“That has a history of not working out so well,” she answered, and gave him such a withering look that he finally released her.
“Why would I be mad at you for being upset?”
She stared at him for a second, then literally threw up her hands. “You really want to do this? Fine. Here you go: I saw Roman this afternoon, and he’s a mess, and I’m worried about him. There. Go ahead.”
“Go ahead? Go ahead and do what?”
“Go ahead and tell me he’s not my problem. Go ahead and tell me I shouldn’t care how wrecked he is about Eric or how much weight he’s lost or how he looks like he slept in his clothes. Go ahead and tell me how inappropriate it was for me to corner him in his office and badger him into talking to me. Oh, wait, I left that part out, didn’t I? I was alone with Roman. In his office. For probably ten minutes. With the door shut. So go ahead.”
John stared at her, too stunned to even respond.
She stared right back for another minute or so, then shook her head and stood up. “Or don’t. Suit yourself. I’m going back to bed.”
And John found himself sitting alone in the darkened living room, feeling like he’d been run over by a bus.
Well, he thought, that went south in a hurry.
He got up and carried Marlena’s abandoned tea to the kitchen, pouring it down the drain and rinsing the cup, his body moving on autopilot as his mind struggled to make sense of what had just happened.
Stick to the facts, he ordered himself, and leaned back against the counter to think.
Okay, the facts as he understood them were: Marlena had seen Roman yesterday. Roman had apparently looked like death warmed over. And Doc, being Doc, had been worried about him.
Exactly none of which surprised John in the least.
Nor did it surprise him that she had “cornered” Roman, as she’d put it, in his office. When Doc decided you needed to talk, you were going to talk, and hiding from her only delayed the inevitable. God only knew how many times John had learned that lesson himself over the years.
So she’d spoken to Roman, and then she’d…felt guilty about it for the rest of the day? That didn’t make any sense, but guilt was, in John’s experience, one of the few things that had the power to cause Doc to do zero to pissed-the-hell-off as fast as she’d done it just now. Her hottest anger was almost always at least partially directed at herself.
All right, so she was worried sick about Roman and mad at herself for feeling that way. But why? She hadn’t done anything wrong.
Because she still believes I think it’s wrong, he realized, and felt sick.
Because the last time they’d had anything approaching a conversation about Roman, John had all but accused her of falling back into her ex-husband’s arms the moment he’d left town.
He closed his eyes and conjured the memory frame by frame, letting shame wash over him anew.
Walking into Common Grounds to find Roman hugging an obviously-upset Marlena.
Her tear-bright eyes opening to see him standing there watching them.
The way she’d lit up, so happy to see him again in spite of everything.
“John, I didn’t know you were coming home.”
And his own cold, deliberately cruel response.
“Well, I can see that.”
God, what the hell had been wrong with him? He’d gotten over being jealous of Roman years ago.
Or had he?
He replayed the memory again, this time focusing on his own feelings. He’d been looking forward to seeing Doc again; he remembered that much clearly enough. He’d been optimistic, even, hoping that now that he was back in Salem they could talk in person, maybe work things out. He’d intended to ask her for her help getting Brady out of the DiMera mansion, because God knew he’d been out of good ideas on that front.
And then he’d seen her in Roman’s arms, and all those good intentions had flashed over to irrational rage in the blink of an eye. He’d wanted to tear Roman limb from limb. Instead, he’d dismissed Roman and then lashed out at Doc in the most hurtful way possible, even as she tried for the hundredth time to reach out to him.
Okay, he thought, forcing himself to breathe deeply. Guess I’m not quite as over that as I thought I was.
But it was time to get over it. If Roman was a wreck over Eric, then Doc needed to help him. She’d never feel right about it if she didn’t. And she needed John to be okay with that, so whatever he had to do to get past this, now was the time. He couldn’t erase the hurt he’d caused her in the past, but he could damn well stop hurting her now. Wasn’t that what he’d promised her when she’d decided to give him this one last chance?
He turned one of the chairs in the breakfast nook sideways and dropped into it, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees and lowering his face into his hands. Time to clean house, he thought, and opened the door to the attic in his mind.
There was no actual filing system, but he’d spent years–decades, actually–burying anything related to Doc and Roman underneath everything else, so he figured if it was close to the floor it probably needed to go. He made a thorough job of the search anyway, digging it all out and and kicking it into a pile in the center of the room.
The size of the pile shocked him when he was done. Twenty-five years’ worth of bitterness and anger and jealousy and resentment and denial took up a stunning amount of mental space. How much time and energy had he spent dragging this mess around? It had clawed its way out of every box he’d ever stuffed it into, and like a fool he’d just kept boxing it back up and throwing more stuff on top of it.
Because for all those years he’d managed to convince himself that he only person he was hurting by hanging onto all of this was himself.
But that wasn’t true, was it? It had never been true. This much ugliness cast a long shadow.
How many times had that shadow fallen across his own relationship with Doc? Way too many. Culminating with today, when even the memory of his jealousy had apparently been enough to send her on a guilt trip just for being who she was.
No more, he thought at at the pile, and visualized putting a torch to it.
It didn’t even take that long to burn. Once he genuinely wanted it gone, it all went up like so much dry tinder.
And when he was absolutely certain that there was nothing left, not so much as one single powdery ash, he scrubbed his hands over his face and took a couple of deep breaths and stood up to go find Marlena.
Which didn’t turn out to be difficult, since she was standing in the kitchen doorway.
Her eyes were red, and her face was blotchy and tear-stained, and she was wearing her robe like it was a suit of armor, but she had come back.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“No, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”
He opened his arms to her, and she threw herself into them with a little animal sound of pain and buried her face in his neck, her whole body shaking.
“Whoa, hey, hey, easy…” He wrapped her up and held her close. “Shhh, baby, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m right here, I’ve got you.”
She tightened her hold on him and said something he couldn’t understand.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he answered anyway, and continued to murmur soft reassurances until she began to settle, her crying eventually trailing off into little hiccuping breaths.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said again, pulling away just enough to speak clearly. “You were being really sweet, and I was awful to you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
John brushed her hair out of her eyes and ducked his head to look at her properly. “You weren’t awful. You were honest. I had that coming.”
“I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to fight,” she said, blinking back more tears. “But then I couldn’t not tell you, and I didn’t know what to do.”
He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her forehead, then drew back to look her in the eye again. “Are we fighting?”
Marlena bit her lip. “I, uhm…I don’t…I’m not actually sure what we’re doing.”
“Well, I think for it to be a fight at least one of us would have to be mad. Are you mad?”
She shook her head.
“Me neither.” He brushed his thumbs along her cheekbones, gently wiping away her tears. “So maybe we should go back and sit down and try this again. Okay?”
She looked completely nonplussed, but after a moment she nodded, and she didn’t object when John led her back out to the couch and drew her down into his arms again.
“Better?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” she murmured, and gradually relaxed, allowing him to hold her.
“I understand why you thought I’d be mad at you about Roman,” he said once she was settled. “Because that’s how I’ve always reacted. But I can promise you, sweetheart, the last time really was the last time. I know how much I hurt you that day, and I’m so sorry.”
“So you’re, what, suddenly a big fan of Roman’s?” Disbelief rang clearly in her voice.
“I wouldn’t say I’m a fan, no,” he answered, being as honest as he knew how to be. “Roman and I are probably always going to have issues. But I’m done taking those issues out on you. I love you, and I want you to be happy, and I know you well enough to know that you’re not gonna be happy if Roman self-destructs. So you do whatever you need to do, and I’ll support you.”
“Even if that means counseling him behind closed doors?”
“Even if.”
She pulled away to look at him. “Suddenly you trust him? Just like that?”
“No, but I don’t need to trust him. I trust you.”
Her eyes fell closed, and he could hear her take a slow, ragged breath. It sounded like she was trying not to cry again.
“Doc?”
“Just give me a minute,” she murmured.
John forced himself to wait.
After several eternal seconds she finally opened her eyes and smiled up at him through a sheen of tears. “Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that.”
“I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”
She laid her head on his shoulder again, and for a little while they just cuddled in silence, John rubbing her back and Marlena idly carding her fingers through the hair on his chest.
“Can I ask you something?” she finally asked.
“Sure.”
“Did you and Roman have some sort of run-in during the time that…while you and I were having problems?”
John sighed. “You could call it that, yeah. When Sami got arrested I offered to help, and Roman took exception.”
“How so?”
“I asked him what I could do, and he… Well, let’s just say the offer was rebuffed.”
Marlena raised her head again. “What did he say?”
John just looked at her.
“I know you remember. I can see it in your eyes. What did he say?”
“He told me to stay the hell away from you. Said I should take care of my family and let him take care of his, and it was pretty apparent which family he thought you belonged to. And then he suggested that I do everybody a favor and disappear.”
Her eyes went wide. “He actually said that to you?”
“Yeah. Like I said, he and I are always gonna have issues.”
Marlena looked stunned. “My God. I knew something must have happened, but I never imagined…”
“It wasn’t his best day. Then again, it wasn’t really mine either.”
She looked down. “The way you’ve always reacted to him…the way you get possessive about me when he’s around…it’s not as unfounded as I’ve always liked to pretend, is it?”
“I’m not sure how to answer that,” John admitted. “I mean, do I think he’s going to kidnap you and drag you off to his lair in some kind of bid to get you back? No. But do I think he’d do the dance of joy if you turned up on his doorstep tomorrow and said that your entire relationship with me had been a terrible mistake? In a heartbeat. So yeah, that makes watching you with him a little uncomfortable. But that’s not your doing, honey–it’s his.”
“I still should’ve been more sensitive to your feelings. It shouldn’t have taken that incident in the coffee shop for me to ask him to back off.”
“I was the one acting like some kind of Neanderthal. You didn’t– Wait. You asked him to back off?”
“I asked him to keep his distance, yes. I didn’t want you to think there was anything going on that wasn’t. Not that it mattered in the end. The damage was already done.”
“It matters,” John said softly. “Thank you for telling me that.”
She finally looked at him again. “I’m not going to counsel Roman. I’m going to badger him into getting counseling–that is absolutely going to happen–but I’m going to refer him to a colleague.”
“Because of me?” John asked uncertainly.
“Because encouraging him to depend on me in that way would be irresponsible, both professionally and personally. And yes, out of respect for your feelings as well. I appreciate that you would support my decision if I wanted to work with him, but I…I choose not to ask that of you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
She reached up to touch his face. “Thank you for being so tender with me tonight. Not that you aren’t usually, but I was in a really vulnerable place earlier, and I just…I really needed to feel safe and loved. Thank you for giving me that.”
“You can always, always come to me for that, sweetheart. Anytime.”
“I know.” She kissed him gently, then cast a rueful glance toward the windows, where the first hint of daylight was just beginning to show. “Do I even want to know what time it is?”
John glanced at his watch. “Probably not.”
“Guess there’s not much point in going back to bed, is there? Unless…”
“Unless?” John prompted, intrigued by the look on her face.
“Well, how sure are you that this didn’t count as a fight?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I think we might have just enough time to have really spectacular make-up sex before the alarm goes off.”
“It was a fight,” he said instantly, and struggled to keep a straight face as she laughed. “Terrible fight. Really vicious. Hell, girl, we might need to make up this morning and tonight.”
“C’mon, then, sailor,” she said, and stood to extend a hand down to him, still laughing.
They made love with the curtains open as the sun rose over Salem, and by the time the alarm went off they were in full agreement: Really spectacular didn’t begin to cover it.
The Jarlena Journal 