Chrysalis – By Ms. Goldie

Chapter 1

Summer 1995

Palermo, Italy

    John glanced up from where he sat on the couch reading on a Saturday afternoon. It took several days for the Salem paper to make its way to Palermo, so he was stuck reading Wednesday’s edition. Folding it with a sigh, he put it to the side when he saw his wife standing in the doorway with a package in her hand, and a smirk. Her curly brown hair framed her face, as she stared at him. She was wearing a pair of jeans and, John noted, one of his old button-up shirts. “Are you getting work delivered at home now, John?” she asked him with a chuckle.

    He smiled sheepishly, knowing that it could be work, and hoping it wasn’t, “I promised to leave work at work, didn’t I?”

    “You did,” she replied, walking towards him with a sway of her hips. Handing him the envelope, she said softly, “You work entirely too much. I see you so rarely.”

    He reached for her hand tugging her down, so that she sat beside him. John kissed the top of her head affectionately, and glanced over the envelope in his hand. It was nondescript with no return address. It only had a postmark that said St. Vincent. John sighed. He had no idea what it was, but he said to his wife, “Rebecca…I just want to get EcoSystems off the ground. I need to do this for Isabella. After she was diagnosed with cancer, and she lost our baby…since her death…Rebecca, I need to do this.”

    “I know,” she sighed. “But when you’re home, I want you to be home. With me. We…we discussed trying to start a family.”

    John sighed again, turning the envelope in his hand. “Rebecca, we are a family.”

    She paused, feeling hurt for a moment, and then said softly, “You know what I mean.”

    He stood up from the couch, walking towards his desk in the other room. She was pressuring him again about having children, and, while he had agreed to try for a child, something kept holding him back. Something kept causing him to push for more time.

    After finding the letter opener, he called into the living room, “Did you see who delivered this?”

    John looked up to find Rebecca in the doorway. She said, “No, it was left at the front door. They were already driving away when I saw it.”

    John sliced through the paper easily, and removed the contents. A crisp white sheet of paper with two lines of type was what he saw first, and his body physically reacted to the symbol at the top of the page. A phoenix rising from the ashes, its wings spread wide. His breath caught in his chest, and a fine sheen of sweat broke out over his skin. His mind started to have memories of his early time with Stefano, memories that were once thought lost to him, but had been returning to him in bits and pieces since his return from Mexico. He pushed them down, even further than usual, as he tried to regain control of his mind, and stop the growing panic. He always pushed them down. This time, he told himself, Stefano was dead. He’d seen him die in Mexico, and yet, in his hand was proof that he hadn’t. It couldn’t be anything else.

    Rebecca saw John’s skin go pale, and she stepped closer, noticing a sheen of sweat across his forehead, “John…honey?”

    He stared unseeing at the paper held in his hand for several moments, before he pulled himself together, and began to silently read. “Tout le monde est une scène, Et tous les hommes et les femmes ne sont que des joueurs; Ils ont leurs sorties et leurs entrées ; Et un homme en son temps joue plusieurs rôles…“

    Rebecca leaned over his shoulder, asking, “Is that French?”

    “Yes…” John replied softly, staring at the words before him. “It says: All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts…”

    Rebecca was surprised, staring at John with wide eyes. She wasn’t aware that her husband spoke any languages other than English and Italian, but then again, she felt as if there was a lot she didn’t know about John.

    John dropped the paper filled with cryptic words, and the DiMera letterhead, onto his desk, and it all became clear. In his hands he held two photos. Where panic had started at the first sight of the DiMera crest, the instant his eyes landed on the photographs, his heart began to race, and his mouth went dry. John choked out in a rough voice, “No…oh, G-d, no…”

    Rebecca stepped back quickly, almost as if the photos in John’s hands could hurt her. Maybe they could. She asked him, barely above a whisper, “Is that…Marlena?”

    “Yes,” he said, trailing his finger softly over the top image. His deep blue eyes scanned the photo, her hands and ankles were bound, lying on a bed in a room he’d seen before, but he couldn’t remember exactly where. Panic rose up inside him like a wave, and he felt his breath catch again. He hadn’t seen Marlena in more than two years. He hadn’t smelled her perfume, or felt her touch. He hadn’t held her in his arms, or tasted her lips. The pressure of fear tightened in his chest like a vise, and he said, “This can’t be right. I would have…I would have heard something. Surely…I would have heard something.” But even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. He ran away, and in the process he’d left everyone he loved behind…the Brady’s, Marlena, the twinners…even Abe. All of them left with no cause, no reason, and no contact, except Carrie. If she knew Marlena was missing, she would have told him.

    He shuffled to the other photo. Marlena sat on the end of the same bed, the same room, and again, John felt that he should know that room. Her unkempt honey colored hair framed a face that held hazel eyes alight with fury as she stared into the camera. One photo capturing her image, beauty and rage personified. John’s hand shook as he laid down the photos and dialed Marlena’s home number from memory. “Pick up,” he murmured. “Pick up the G-d damned phone…” After several rings with no answer, John listened briefly as the answering machine picked up. The sound of Marlena’s voice on the message, broke his heart wide open, and he slammed the telephone into the receiver, breathing as if the woman in question stood in front of him.

    Rebecca saw the pain flash over his features, and she softly rested her palm on his shoulder, “John…honey, are you okay?”

    “Yeah,” he said with a rough voice, still reeling from the echo of Marlena’s soft voice in his mind. “Yeah…I’m fine.” He sank into the chair in front of his desk and read over the paper in front of him, “Tout le monde est une scène, Et tous les hommes et les femmes ne sont que des joueurs; Ils ont leurs sorties et leurs entrées ; Et un homme en son temps joue plusieurs rôles…” Why was it in French? John’s mind flashed a memory of a large estate, and a shiver of fear coursed through him. It was a clue, he knew that. Stefano was playing a game, and true to his nature, John, Marlena…and likely, Roman, were all unwilling players.

    John whispered to himself, “St. Vincent…but no, he wouldn’t have it mailed from his location. He would have it mailed from near his location. All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts…” Standing up quickly, John slammed his fist on the desk in front of him, startling Rebecca as he roared, “It’s all a fucking game!”

Rebecca flinched at the jarring sound, and said softly, “I don’t understand, John.”

    He looked at his wife, his eyes full of a desperation she didn’t understand, and he said, “Stefano has her…Marlena. He’s taken her.”

    “How can you be sure? Nothing says that. I mean—”

    “—It’s his fucking crest on the top of the paper. A phoenix! The French Shakespeare quote…that’s two hints. One it’s in French, a clue as to location, the second… ‘men and women merely players’…meaning me, Roman, and Marlena. ‘One man in his time plays many parts’…he means me.”

    She asked him slowly, “How can you be sure?”

    “Because I know Stefano,” he said, staring at the items strewn over the desk in front of him. “I fucking know him. I just…I can’t figure…what is the game?”

    “The game?”

    “Stefano never does anything without a plan,” John said, lifting the photo and staring into Marlena’s angry eyes. “He always has a plan. He wants something…Roman…maybe me. I just wish I knew what it was.”

    “I don’t understand why he’s sending this to you. You haven’t been in Salem, or spoken to Marlena in years, John.”

    That wasn’t entirely true, and John knew it. He’d called Marlena twice, on her birthday. The first time had been a Thursday. He’d called her office, and the act of simply listening to the soft cadence of her voice tore a hole in his soul. They’d talked for over an hour. The following year, he’d done it again, but he wasn’t willing to share that part of himself with Rebecca. She was his wife, but his feelings for Marlena were his alone. Looking into his wife’s deep brown eyes, he said quietly, “You’re right, but Stefano knows how much I once cared for her…how much knowing he had her would affect me.”

    Rebecca is silent, recalling the looks John and Marlena used to share across a room. The way John would pause in his speech if Marlena entered a space. The way Marlena would touch his hand as he walked by her if she thought no one was looking. Rebecca had noticed every move, every nuance. Even watching him right then, she could see something in her husband’s features that she couldn’t read. He’d always assured her that his relationship with Marlena had ended the day they’d found out definitively that he wasn’t Roman Brady. John claimed they were friends…good friends, but Rebecca found herself wondering.

    John knew he’d left Salem abruptly. He’d come to Italy to oversee the offices there, even though Rebecca was already handling it on her own, and then he’d dove headlong into a relationship with her. They were married by the end of that year. In his phone calls to Marlena, he had never mentioned Rebecca, or any relationship. Marlena had never asked. He had never mentioned Roman, and neither had she. Their love for each other? Neither had mentioned that either, but it was evident in her breathy voice, and her low seductive tone. It was evident, when John slipped, and called her baby, causing both of them to pause for a long moment, before continuing as if the words had never left his lips.

    Rebecca asked him, “Are you sure? It seems odd that he would wait so long, and suddenly—”

    “—nothing that lousy bastard does has ever made sense, Rebecca!” John said loudly. “Nothing! He hates the Brady’s. He always has. We’ve always assumed this vendetta he had was because of Roman somehow, but we’ve never been able to piece together why…maybe it’s not about Roman at all…”

    “Are you suggesting it’s about you?”

     “If it was just about Roman, why taunt me? Why send me photos of Doc tied up and helpless? No, it’s related to the Brady’s, sure, but I have always been an integral part, and I don’t understand why,” John told her. “But I do know this, he’s using Marlena to pull me in.”

    “Why her?” Rebecca asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

    John stared into her eyes and he said, “Because he knows…he knows that the one person who would draw me in, is her.”

    Rebecca felt her spine stiffen, as she said, “I see.”

    “But you don’t,” John said. “You don’t know half of it. It’s a time in my life that I don’t discuss, because it’s too painful…and, until now, it never mattered.”

    “Maybe you should tell me now,” Rebecca replied, “because I have a feeling you’re not going to let this go, and, as your wife, you owe me the courtesy of explaining why a sadistic madman is pulling you into this.”

    John stepped closer to her, pulling her into his arms. Burying his face in her hair, he mumbled, “You’re right…you’re right.”

Chapter 2

The island of Baliceaux in the Caribbean Sea

The instant her eyes opened, Marlena knew she wasn’t in her hotel room in Oklahoma City. The room was bright, lit with early morning sunlight. She could hear the ocean, and smell salt in the air. The sounds of birds, calling to each other on the wind, met her ears. No, she wasn’t at an amnesia conference in Oklahoma. She listened as ocean waves swept along a beach, and she closed her eyes briefly as a cool breeze swept strands of her hair across her cheek. Even as she lay still in the bed, she felt groggy, and lightheaded. The scent of tropical flowers hit her, giving her the most incredible sense of deja vu.

Opening her eyes, she was met with a fresco painted on the rounded dome of the ceiling. It was ornate, complete with lush flowers, and tropical birds. Rolling onto her side, she noticed the large window to her right. She sat up carefully, immediately feeling dizzy again, and murmured, “I was drugged. That much is obvious.”

Marlena couldn’t be sure how long she was unconscious for. She gripped the bed to steady herself, and studied the wood of the four poster bed. It was dark, polished to a pristine shine, and carved with leaves and pineapple. Her wrists had bruising, ligature marks, and she felt fear, deep fear. Glancing down she noticed marks around her ankles. She could vaguely recall being tied up, and the flash of a camera. Marlena grumbled, “Great, I was drugged, and tied up.”

Afraid to stand, she sat there, looking out the window. There was a deserted white sand beach down below. Crystal clear cyan water lapped at the shore, and Marlena felt a calmness come over her, immediately followed by fear. She couldn’t afford to find her environment relaxing. Not when she had no idea where she was, or who had taken her.

Standing up carefully, she stumbled towards the window, noticing that it had no screen, and the shutters were thrown wide. Had it been that way all night…or had someone come in that morning? Standing up she realized she was wearing a soft white cotton nightgown with lace edged cap sleeves. Her hair hung freely around her shoulders in loose waves, and again the strong scent of flowers brought a sense of… “John,” she whispered.

She was remembering a trip she took with John, when he was Roman…when they were married. The strong scent of the ocean in the air, combined with jasmine flowers. She was remembering John. Her eyes absorbed the early morning light, and her skin enjoyed the soft breeze, while she said softly, “I can’t be thinking about John.”

The night John left Salem, she had recommitted herself to her marriage. He’d left Salem so she could do that, and she owed it to him to make her marriage to Roman work. She had to make it work, because, otherwise, what was his sacrifice for? She had gone home that night, while her heart pined for John, and threw herself in her marriage with Roman. Walking in her front door, in the middle of a thunderstorm, Marlena was thunderstruck to find her home filled to the brim with friends and family wishing her and Roman the best on their wedding anniversary, and she’d completely forgotten. Marlena’s lips had still vibrated with John’s kiss. The taste of him still lingered in her mouth, but she’d smiled, and she had told herself that if she and John were going to sacrifice their love on the altar of Roman Brady…she had to make it work.

She turned around, resting her hips on the window sill and glanced around the room. It was simply furnished. The large bed, a wardrobe, desk, and chair. A large wicker papasan chair sat in the corner, next to a bookshelf lined with reading material, and a small table was set in the center of the room with two chairs. She could only assume, since she was in nightclothes, that the wardrobe had clothing in it. Feeling as if she finally had her feet beneath her, she walked gingerly towards it, and opened it slowly.

Inside was a collection of clothing made in the finest fabrics. Silk, linen, soft brushed cottons, and she immediately thought, Stefano. Marlena’s heart rate ticked up slightly, but she reassured herself that it wasn’t possible. Stefano had died in Mexico…right? But as she ran her fingers over the sleek, flower covered silk hanging before her, she whispered to herself, “He’s dead. Roman said…John said…he died in that cave. He died in a fire.”

Dropping the fabric as if it burned the sensitive flesh of her fingers, she closed the wardrobe quickly. A wave of dizziness came over her, and she sat heavily in the cushioned chair beside the bookshelf. Glancing at the door, she could only assume it was locked, but maybe it wasn’t. Was she ready to see what was on the other side of the door? Looking down at the sheer nightgown that barely covered her body, she knew she would need to change before she dared.

Marlena ran her fingers softly over the spines of the books, smiling gently when she encountered Moby Dick. Thinking of John again, she smiled gently, pulling it from the shelf. John had told her once that Captain Ahab’s maniacal obsession with the white whale reminded him of Stefano’s obsession with the Brady’s. Opening the book, she gasped softly, when she saw, in John’s handwriting, I am Giovanni Floris. It wasn’t written once. It was written repeatedly, in a shaky handwriting. Tears sprang to her eyes, as she whispered, “Oh, John…”

She flipped through the pages, noting John’s shaky handwriting throughout. Closing it quickly, she held it to her chest, as the first sob tore free of her chest. Thinking of him always brought her pain. Marlena stood on shaky legs, and walked the book towards the bed, placing it under her pillow. She couldn’t be sure how long she cried for, she only knew that slowly, as her sense of hopelessness faded, a new voice took its place. John’s voice.

Wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand, she glanced around again, as a sense of determination came over her. She was stronger than that. She wasn’t the type to let someone else determine her fate. She never had been, but in the last few years, she had allowed her husband to make the decisions. The strong, independent, stubborn part of her soul had gone into a deep slumber. It was easier to allow Roman to take the lead. Arguments could be avoided, while calm, and serenity blanketed their home, but she couldn’t be that woman in her current situation.

Smiling to herself, she remembered who she was after they had believed Roman was dead. She recalled who she had been with John. She had to be that woman again. Standing up, Marlena began to rummage through the drawers of the bedside tables, finding nothing, not even a Bible. Making her way towards the dresser, she found drawers full of lace edged lingerie, and undergarments, ornate soft gauzy gowns for sleeping, and a soft terry cloth tracksuit in three different colors. Her mind went back to the ornate clothing hanging in the wardrobe with a shudder. Someone was trying to dress her like a doll. She pulled a sage green set from the drawer, finding herself grateful to have it.

If Stefano was alive, and he had her, she could be anywhere, but if she had to guess, she assumed it was the Caribbean. Stefano had held her before, in San Cristobal. When Stefano had kidnapped Carrie, John mentioned he’d found her on an island in the Caribbean. Glancing around the room, noting the colors, and the decor, she assumed the same.

A soft knock sounded on her door, followed by the gentle voice of a woman, “Are you awake ma’am?”

Marlena’s heart began to race, as she replied, “Yes…”

Hearing the lock turn, Marlena smiled to herself. She had been locked in. The door opened, and a tall man with dark hair stepped back allowing the young woman to enter with a tray laden with what looked to be breakfast. The young woman smiled at Marlena sweetly, and said, “I thought you might be hungry.”

Marlena stared at the woman. She seemed young, all rounded curves, and cheeks. Her curly brown hair was pulled high in a chignon with tiny soft curls that framed her dark brown eyes. There was kindness there. The same couldn’t be said for the large man still standing in the doorway. His eyes were distant, almost lost, and even as he studied her with his ice blue eyes, Marlena detected curiosity. He reminded her of when she had first met John. Almost confused…sad. Marlena asked, “Where am I?”

The woman replied, with a soft cadence to her voice, “My name is Nevis. I’ll be your maid while you are here. I wasn’t sure what you might like to eat, so I brought pastries, and coffee. I hope you like those items.”

Marlena noticed that Nevis had ignored her question, so she looked at the man in the doorway, asking, “And who are you?”

Still staring at her unwaveringly, he replied, “You may call me Mason.”

His stare was unnerving. It left Marlena feeling confused. “Mason,” she said carefully, “I don’t suppose you will tell me where I am?”

He didn’t respond, but continued to watch her. Nevis interrupted again, saying, “I’ll just leave the food here, and come back for it later, after you’ve dressed.”

Both of them backed out of the room, as silently as they’d entered, and Marlena heard the lock turn in the door. Sadness and loneliness overwhelmed her. She sat heavily on the bed, with the soft terrycloth tracksuit clenched in her hands. Slowly she reached one hand underneath her pillow, and pulled out the copy of Moby Dick. She trailed her fingers over the embossed leather, thinking that John had once held the book in his hands, and tears began to fall from her eyes.

Her life had gone so differently than she’d wanted when she awoke from her coma in San Cristobal. It hadn’t gone horribly…but it also hadn’t gone the way she’d planned. All she could think of, all she’d dreamed of, was John’s face, John’s voice, and John’s touch. Stefano had duped them all into believing John was Roman. There were times, when Marlena was alone, that she wished she was still duped, because then, she’d be in John’s arms…not Roman’s.

At home, when her heart ached for him, she felt so guilty. Roman was her husband. She’d made a commitment. As much as he tried, as much of himself as he put into their marriage, Marlena was never fully there, and he could feel it. He had spent their time since returning from Mexico trying to recapture what they had before his death in 1984. She didn’t have the heart to tell him, it would never be. They couldn’t capture something that was lost on the winds of memory the moment John Black stepped into her life.

The conference in Oklahoma had been a trick, of which Marlena was almost certain. She was also fairly certain that Stefano DiMera was behind it. The doctor she’d scheduled a meeting with was likely working for him. It was too reminiscent of how Stefano’s plans worked, sending someone in to make contact, creating a false sense of safety and security. The only question she had was, what part did she play? Thinking back to her last conversation with Roman, Marlena had a sneaking suspicion that this plan involved more than her.

“Doc,” Roman said softly. “Another conference? You just had one less than two months ago.”

“I know, Roman, but this one’s short. A doctor who specializes in amnesia will be there. His research is groundbreaking, and I was hoping—”

Roman’s hand landed softly on her shoulder, and Marlena stilled in her hasty packing, “—Doc, John’s gone.”

“I know that,” she said in a low tone. “I know that. That’s not why—”

“—Since he left Salem, your fascination with hypnotherapy, and the treatment of amnesia…it’s almost become an obsession,” Roman told her.

Marlena shrugged his hand away, saying quietly, but firmly, “It’s not an obsession. The people I work with, my patients—I don’t think you could ever know what it feels like to miss chunks of memory, to miss parts of your life. I do. I lost five years, Roman. I woke from a coma after missing five years.”

Roman sighed,”Doc, what you experienced…that’s not amnesia.”

“We can’t be sure I was in a coma for five years. I didn’t lack the characteristic muscle strength, my muscles didn’t atrophy. When a person loses time, the feeling of helplessness that comes with it, that is the same. It’s the same. I watched John struggle when he first came to Salem. I watched him struggle when you came back. I want to help my patients,” she said, her voice trailing off helplessly.

“Is this the way to do it? Running off to every conference you can? Are you doing this for your patients? Or is this your last remaining connection to John?” Roman felt his frustration rising. “Doc, he’s been gone for two years.”

Marlena stared at him helplessly, feeling the heartbreak of her last moments with John all over again. She finally choked out, “I have a meeting tomorrow with this Doctor, and I won’t go away again. I’ll—I’ll wait at least a year before I attend another conference. I promise.”

“Maybe we can take a trip together…you, me, the kids,” Roman told her, brushing the hair carefully from her forehead.

Marlena smiled softly, “That would be nice.”

Roman stepped away from her, and asked, “So, this doctor…what’s his name?”

“Wilhelm Rolf,” Marlena replied, closing her suitcase. “His research was just published in Belgium, and he’s a keynote speaker at this conference in Oklahoma City.”

The lock turned in her bedroom door hours later, and she spun quickly from the window expecting Nevis with another tray of food. Instead she found Stefano Dimera, a little older than he had been when last she’d seen him, standing in her doorway. She stood quickly, backing up towards the wall, near the headboard, and she stared at him with wide eyes.

With a feral smile, and his characteristic deep voice, he said, “Marlena, did you miss me?”

Chapter 3

Salem Police Department

Roman looked up from his desk, laying down a file on the stack of the papers that surrounded him and Bo, as Abe walked in with a manila envelope.

“This just came for you,” Abe said with a slight chuckle. “Well, it came a few days ago, but you know the mailroom around here.”

“It looks pretty thin, partner,” Roman said, eyeing it. “What’s the rush?”

“I saw that it was postmarked St. Vincent. Color me curious,” Abe said with a shrug.

“Who would be sending me something from the Caribbean?” Roman murmured, noting there was no return address.

“The Caribbean?” Bo asked, suddenly interested as he leaned forward.

Roman eyed his brother warily, “Does that mean something to you?”

“No…well, yes. It makes me nervous. You disappeared from that island in the Caribbean, and then Stefano kidnapped the twins…a few years later, Carrie, and Marlena woke up in San Cristobal. I think we’ve got reason to be nervous about anything coming out of the Caribbean,” Bo told him.

Roman stared at his brother in shock, and asked quietly, “Stefano kidnapped the twins…and Carrie?”

“Oh, man,” Bo said, taking his feet off of the desk. “I would have thought Marlena told you about that.”

“Well, in defense of Marlena,” Abe cut in casually, eyeing Roman, “she wasn’t here when that happened.”

Roman stared at the envelope again, and whispered, “Stefano’s dead.”

“That man has died, and come back enough times, that we should always be wary,” Bo said, standing up. “Open the damn envelope, Roman.”

In haste, he tore at the thick paper. The three of them watched as two photos and a piece of paper slid into Roman’s hands. Immediately their eyes all landed on the phoenix, wings spread across the top of the page. Still refusing to believe it, Roman whispered, “He died. John, and Shane were with me. We all saw it.”

Bo asked, “Who else would use that paper, Roman? As soon as Stefano died, Tony got rid of the phoenix. We all know that.”

Roman almost roared with frustration, “I can’t read it. It’s in fucking French!”

Abe wrenched the door to the office open, and yelled into the hallway, “Laurent! Get in here!”

A small man scurried in, barely five and a half feet tall. He looked surprised, as he glanced around the room, “Sir?”

“You speak French, correct?” Abe asked him.

“Yes, sir. French, and French Creole, sir. My people hail from New Orleans,” Officer Laurent said proudly.

Roman thrust the paper towards him. “Read this for us, Greg.”

Greg scanned over the paper, and he said, “Tout le monde est une scène, Et tous les hommes et les femmes ne sont que des joueurs; Ils ont leurs sorties et leurs entrées ; Et un homme en son temps joue plusieurs rôles…it’s a Shakespeare quote, sir. It says, All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts.”

Roman slammed his fist on the desk in front of him, “Stefano DiMera and his fucking games!”

Greg stared at Roman with wide eyes, unsure whether to stay in the room, or go. Finally Abe said, “Thank you, Greg. That’s all we needed.”

Bo slid the photos off the desk, and stared at them. Abe and Roman turned when they heard him whisper, “Oh, shit.”

Two photos of Marlena hung limply from his fingers. In one she was prone on a bed, arms and legs tied, obviously unconscious. In another, she stared up with furious eyes. Roman sank helplessly into his chair, saying, “I ask her not to go to this conference. She said it would be the last one for at least a year…another fucking conference on amnesia.”

“She left on Saturday, right?” Abe asked.

“Yeah, and she hasn’t called me, but that’s not odd,” Roman told them. “Sometimes…she gets caught up in sessions, or dinners with colleagues…she doesn’t always call right away.”

Bo looked at Roman incredulously, “Roman, it’s been nearly a week. Why didn’t you call her?”

Roman’s eyes narrowed, as he stood up abruptly, “Bo! We’ve been working on this drug trafficking case trying to catch King! The kids are in Colorado for the summer, Carrie’s on her own…it slipped my mind.”

Bo struggled to understand how Roman could forget his wife for almost six full days, but he said nothing. He and Abe exchanged glances, and Bo finally said, “Stefano’s got Marlena…which means, he’s not dead. This note, it’s a clue. He’s playing his sick sadistic games with us again.”

Roman was quiet for a long moment, and then he said softly, “He wants me to come after her. This isn’t about Doc…it’s about me. It’s about the Brady’s and he knows, I’d die for Doc.”

“Roman, you’ve got to be careful,” Abe told him. “We need to call the ISA in on this.”

Bo glanced at the envelope again, and said, “We need to see which islands are near St. Vincent. I can almost guarantee he’s holding her on a private island.”

“San Cristobal?” Roman asked.

Bo shook his head, “No…he wouldn’t be that obvious. It’ll be near St. Vincent, but it won’t be one he’s used before. I agree with Abe, we need to contact Shane. He’s the ISA chief now, and he was with us in Mexico.”

Sitting back down, Roman stared at his brother and his best friend, and he said, “Yeah. Yeah. You’re right. I just…I need a moment alone.” His head fell forward into his hands, as he heard the soft snick of the door closing behind them. “Shit,” he whispered to himself. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Roman’s mind was accosted by memories of the morning Marlena left for Oklahoma. How hurt he’d been, how disappointed. He’d barely given her the perfunctory kiss on the cheek, before he rushed off to work, and never even gave her a backward thought. It was always John. No matter what he did. No matter how much time he invested, it always went back to John. Roman was surprised that John wasn’t involved in this.

The morning she’d left for her conference, he’d woken to hear her talking in her sleep. It wasn’t a new occurrence. Marlena talked in her sleep all of the time. What struck him most was what she said.

Tears ran softly over his wife’s cheeks as he watched her dream. She gasped, turning her head on the pillow, “No! No…John you can’t leave. Eric and Sami…Carrie…I need you…”

She was dreaming about John leaving again. She’d been dreaming about him for two years. At first, Roman believed that as time passed, she would eventually forget John. As time passed, her pain over losing him would lessen. Roman couldn’t say he wasn’t happy to see the man go. After Marlena’s kidnapping by Stella Lombard, it was obvious that she and John had grown closer. It made Roman uncomfortable, especially because Isabella had passed away. What would prevent Marlena from leaving him, and returning to John?

He reached towards her, intent on waking her as he usually did, when his wife whispered in a tear choked voice, “I love you…and what do I do with that?”

Roman watched her face, as another soft sob wrenched its way free of her. She loved John then? Or, she still loved him? Was this a memory, or something she desired?

“You can’t leave…I—I can’t be here without you,” she whispered.

Roman tossed the blankets off of his legs, and stood up quickly, staring down at his wife’s body. Marlena’s back arched, and her lips parted, as she whispered, “More…please…I need more…John.”

Storming into the bathroom, he was aware that he’d shut the door louder than he needed too. A part of him hoped it woke her, or at least jarred her enough to begin waking her up. With John gone for two years, Roman had thought he had his jealousy under control. He’d gotten to the point where hearing the children refer to John as Daddy occasionally, or hearing his family tell stories about John as Roman didn’t grate on him as much, but watching his wife’s body arch and writhe while she gasped another mans name was too much.

A soft knock sounded on the bathroom door, and Roman heard Marlena’s voice ask tentatively, “Roman? Is everything okay?”

He cleared his throat, and said, “Yeah, Doc. I didn’t realize the door would slam so loudly.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “I’m going to start packing for the conference in Oklahoma…”

Roman sighed, reminding himself that she was trying…she was trying just as hard as he was to get to what they once were. They just had to try harder. Stepping out of the bathroom, Roman said quietly, “Doc? Another conference? You just had one less than two months ago.”

“I know, Roman, but this one’s short. A doctor who specializes in amnesia will be there. His research is groundbreaking, and I was hoping—”

He reached out, his large palm landing on her shoulder, and Marlena stilled. He felt their conversations surrounding John had become redundant. “—Doc, John’s gone.”

“I know that,” she said in a low tone. He could hear the sadness in her voice, the longing. Even as she tried to hide it, he could feel it. She was lying, even as she looked at him, and repeated, “I know that. That’s not why—”

He wanted her to choose him, and he wasn’t certain she ever had. Sighing deeply, Roman said, “—Since John left Salem, your fascination with hypnotherapy, and the treatment of amnesia…it’s almost become an obsession.”

“It’s not an obsession. The people I work with, my patients—I don’t think you could ever know what it feels like to miss chunks of memory, to miss parts of your life. I do. I lost five years, Roman. I woke from a coma, missing five years with my family.”

More lies. Excuses. Sure, she had patients with amnesia. She’d become the foremost authority on Retrograde Amnesia in the midwest in the last two years, but it wasn’t for her patients. It had never truly been about them. Roman sighed,”Doc, what you experienced…that’s not amnesia.”

“We can’t be sure I was in a coma for five years. I didn’t lack the characteristic muscle strength, my muscles didn’t atrophy. When a person loses time, the feeling of helplessness that comes with it, that is the same. It’s the same. I watched John struggle when he first came to Salem. I watched him struggle when you came back. I want to help my patients,” she said, her voice trailing off.

It always led back to John. Roman was wondering why it took him so long to finally see that. Clenching his fists to stay calm, he asked her, “Is this the way to do it? Running off to every conference you can? Are you doing this for your patients? Or is this your last remaining connection to John? Doc, he’s been gone for two years.”

Marlena stared at him for a moment. He could see loss, sadness…and confusion shining in her eyes. She was holding back, keeping her true feelings away from him, afraid to say the truth. John leaving Salem had affected her more than he’d wanted to believe. She said in a tight voice,”I have a meeting tomorrow with the Doctor at the conference, and I won’t go away again. I’ll—I’ll wait at least a year before I attend another conference. I promise.”

Roman felt hope rise up inside him. Was she willing to focus on them and their family for a full year? Smiling at her softly, and reaching up to brush her blonde hair away from her forehead, Roman said gently, “Maybe we can take a trip together…you, me, the kids.”

Marlena smiled softly, “That would be nice.”

Roman stepped away from her, and asked curiously, “So, this doctor…what’s his name?”

“Wilhelm Rolf,” Marlena replied, closing her suitcase. “His research was just published in Belgium, and he’s a keynote speaker at this conference in Oklahoma City.”

Chapter 4

Palermo, Italy

The water burned a path along John’s back, running over the tight muscles, as he leaned forward resting both palms against the cold marble of his shower. His head hung low, while he stared at his own feet. He hadn’t slept a full night since the photos of Marlena and the cryptic note had been delivered to his home a week earlier. When he did sleep, his mind was fraught with visions of a place he couldn’t remember consciously, yet his mind had him traveling every night. Secret passages, and tunnels, sliding wall panels, and underneath it all…the sound of Stefano’s laughter. He would wake, covered by a fine sheen of sweat, breathing as if he were running…but running from what? He couldn’t remember. Most of it would be lost as soon as he opened his eyes, and he was left with nothing but flashes of images, and emotions that drove him from his bed tense with anxiety.

It was past midnight when Rebecca woke to find that the bed beside her was cold. The sound of water splashing off of the shower walls echoed softly throughout the room. Sighing, she sat up, pushing her curly brown hair out of her face. Ever since the envelope came to them from St. Vincent, her husband had become determined to locate Marlena…at the expense of everything else. EcoSystems could run itself, but he was neglecting her, and their marriage. Conversations were awkward, because he was never fully present. His eyes would drift, or he would glance at her with a blank look of confusion. The desk in his office was covered with maps of the Lesser Antilles and the Caribbean, as well as notebook paper with quickly jotted notes, and more recently…a list of private islands near St. Vincent.

Rebecca got to her feet, and walked to the bathroom, pushing the door open wide. Her husband’s stance was one of sadness, loss, and exhaustion. His search for Marlena was consuming him, and it was something she didn’t know how to distract him from. She felt as helpless as she had when they were in Salem, watching his eyes trail Marlena’s every move. Stepping inside the bathroom, she admired the way his muscles rippled, and the path the water took as it ran over his ass and down the back of his thighs. Pulling her nightgown over her head with a smirk, Rebecca tossed the silky fabric onto the vanity, and opened the glass shower door.

John felt the cool air on his skin before he heard her, but he didn’t move. A short moment later, he felt her fingers trail along his shoulders. He knew what he was doing to her…what he was doing to them. He couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge it, not directly, anyway. He said roughly, “I’m sorry, Rebecca. I can’t seem to sleep lately.”

“You have a lot on your mind,” she replied, moving her hands around him to rest softly against the plane of his abdomen.

His head lifted, and the muscles under her fingers rippled. Turning his head towards her, he whispered, “Rebecca…you don’t have to worry about me.” He was tense. He’d been wound with anxiety for the duration of the week. 

Her hand trailed lower, softly caressing his cock, as she murmured against his back, “But I do…I worry about you. You’re my husband.”

The slide of Rebecca’s soft breasts against John’s back, caused his eyes to close, as he imagined Marlena pressed against his back. She would be so soft, and smell so good. He imagined the squeeze of her hand around his length, and her soft breath in his ear, as she bit his lobe. John moaned low in his throat.

Smiling to herself because she was able to pull him back to the present, Rebecca whispered, “We haven’t made love all week, John, and you’re an incredibly virile man. You know, I can help alleviate some of that tension…”

“Shit,” he groaned, turning to face her. He knew it was wrong, even as his lips took hers fiercely, and he buried his hands in her hair tightly. He knew it was wrong as he sucked the skin along her neck, and probed the moist heat between her legs. His eyes closed with another deep groan, and he imagined Marlena’s soft skin against his. John made love to his wife, while he imagined sinking into Marlena’s luscious curves, and as he came deep inside Rebecca, he bit his own lip to prevent himself from roaring out, Doc.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Salem

Roman opened his front door to find Abe and Bo standing there with expectant looks. Bo stepped inside, saying, “You called us over here, big brother. What’s so important?”

“I got another package,” Roman said, walking towards the VCR. “This one had a VHS tape of Marlena. And guess what? Stefano? Alive, and in the flesh right at the end. He’s got her…he’s got her, and he’s fucking taunting me.”

“Was there another clue?” Abe asked him.

“Not that I can see,” Roman replied, hitting the play button.

The screen came to life, as the three men watched. Marlena sat on the end of a large four poster bed, made of dark oiled wood. She shot a glance of derision to someone they couldn’t see, before she faced the camera, and said, “Roman, I’m fine. I haven’t been injured…I mean, no one has hurt me. I have no idea where I am. Don’t look for me…please. Stefano has me, and he’s dangerous. He’s unpredictable. I need to know that you are with the children. Keep them safe. That’s all I ask. Keep them safe. Tell them I love them.” Her hand wiped quickly at her eyes, brushing her tears away. Her eyes flashed to the left quickly, and she said in a tumble of words, “Please, Roman…please listen. Can you hear it?“

Stefano stepped into the frame with a smile, saying to Marlena with a tsk, “Ah, ah, ah, Marlena. What did I tell you? No clues.” Facing the camera, he said with a taunt, “Roman, your dear Marlena is waiting. She’s waiting for you to find her.“

“Roman, no! Focus on the children!” she shouted from where she sat.

“But alas, if you don’t find her, it will be fine. Maybe John will,” Stefano said with a laugh. “He’s always been very determined when it comes to Marlena’s safety.“

Abe and Bo shared another glance, as Marlena gasped softly in the background, “John? Not John…“

With another deep laugh, Stefano said, “Now that all of the players are in place, may the best man win.“

The video cut off just as Marlena gasped, “Stefano, no! Not John, too!“

Roman turned to Bo and Abe, and nearly roared, “I can’t figure out what the hell John Black has to do with this?”

“Stefano’s playing mind games, Roman! That’s what he does,” Bo told him.

“Did you get a hold of Shane?” Abe asked him curiously.

“No…I thought I could handle this on my own,” Roman said sheepishly.

“What the hell, Roman!” Bo yelled. “It’s been two weeks already!”

Abe said, “I’ll do it. This can’t wait any longer, partner.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Palermo, Italy

At nearly 4:00 am, Rebecca found her husband where she had left him when she went to bed at midnight. He sat in front of a small television in his office watching the VHS of Marlena repeatedly. The newest communication about Marlena had arrived that afternoon via another courier. A taunt from Stefano DiMera that further served to encourage John’s obsession. Rebecca cleared her throat, “John.”

He glanced over with glazed, bloodshot eyes, and he said, “Do you hear that?”

“What?” she asked, coming into the room.

“The birds…the ocean waves?” he asked. “He’s got her in the Caribbean, in the Lesser Antilles on one of those private islands. I’m also certain ownership for such an island won’t be under Stefano’s name. He’d use an alias. I’ve narrowed the location down to the Grenadines. That original envelope was postmarked St. Vincent…she’s close to there. I know it, but there are 32 islands and cays in that region.”

“John, honey, come to bed,” Rebecca sighed. John had paused the video right at the moment Marlena realized John had been pulled into Stefano’s plot. She stared into the camera helplessly, frozen in time. Her eyes wide as they begged for something, but Rebecca couldn’t quite read what it was. Reaching for him, she said softly, “You aren’t going to be able to determine where she is, if your mind is addled from lack of sleep.”

“I have to find her, Rebecca. I have to,” he told her desperately, staring at Marlena’s helpless eyes. He shrugged Rebecca’s hand off. “It’s been nearly two weeks and I’ve narrowed it down to about five possible islands. I think I need to pull the ISA into it…Roman probably already has.”

“You think so?”

John thought about the Roman he’d known, before he left Salem. Blustering. Loud. Demanding. Stubborn. Had he changed much? He wasn’t sure. He said slowly, “I think if he hadn’t…after this video, he has. He would have contacted Shane Donovan…through Kimberly. Shane is the ISA Chief now.”

“So…” Rebecca said tentatively. Suddenly she felt insecure. For the past two years her stability in her relationship with John had come from the idea that it was her and John against the world. Both of them only having each other, and neither of them having family. To learn that he had kept those ties was surprising to her. “You’ve kept up on the Brady’s?”

John saw the hurt, and confusion, in her eyes, as he said simply, “I have.”

“I didn’t know that,” she said softly. “I mean, I don’t mind, it’s just… you never shared that with me. I thought…”

“I couldn’t completely let go, Rebecca. Those are my children…my parents—”

“—John,” she said gently, wanting to remind him that they weren’t his family, not any more, but knowing it would start a fight.

“I know,” he said quietly, standing up from where he sat. Every joint in his body was stiff, every muscle tight. Turning away from her, he walked out of the room, and all she heard was one last whisper, “I know.”

An hour later, Rebecca watched from the doorway of the kitchen, while John nursed a cup of coffee, and stared off into space. She was curious about how he’d been keeping up with the Brady’s, when he hadn’t contacted anyone or had written contact. At least as far as she knew.

He knew that Rebecca’s mind was rampant with questions. He could see it in her eyes, and the lines forming around her mouth. John finally said softly, “Carrie…I’ve been in contact with Carrie.”

“For two years, John?” Rebecca asked him with growing frustration. “I’m your wife…I don’t understand why you would hide that from me.”

He sighed softly, “I didn’t hide it, I just—”

“—You hid it, John. It doesn’t matter that it never came up, because I know where your argument is going to go. Lying by omission is still lying.”

“I didn’t lie—”

“—you didn’t mention it either,” she said. “When we lie in bed at night and talk about how our day went…or when we discuss it over dinner. You never once said, “I spoke with Carrie today.”

John stared into Rebecca’s deep brown eyes, and said, “I’m sorry.” It was all he could say. He felt like his secret conversations with Carrie were special. They were a connection to his daughter that he couldn’t sever, and neither could she. She still called him Dad. She could spend an hour on the telephone laughing about the things that had happened in her day, or Sami and Eric’s antics. She would tell him about everyone in the family. She would tell him about Marlena, and those conversations with her were incredibly private. He couldn’t share them, not even with Rebecca. He wouldn’t share them. So, all he could do was say he was sorry.

Suspicion had her speechless. Had he spoken to Marlena? That was the question she really wanted to ask. Rebecca was silent for a moment, and then she asked him, “How often?”

John was caught off guard, “What?”

“How often do you speak with Carrie?” Rebecca wanted to know. She couldn’t bring herself to ask about Marlena. Had he spoken with Marlena?

John sighed, knowing his answer was going to further inflame the situation, replying flatly, “Once a week, sometimes twice if she needs to talk to me about something in particular.”

Rebecca stared at him for a moment longer, preparing to turn on her heel, and leave him sitting there, when the telephone rang. Both of them looked at it in surprise. The landline in their home rarely rang. If either of them needed to be contacted it was usually their cellular phones they were reached on.

Standing slowly, John walked over to the phone, and answered it, saying, “Hello?”

A pause before John heard Abe Carver’s voice for the first time in two years, “John? John, it’s Abe.”

Abe was calling about Marlena. There was no other reason. John whispered, “You know?”

“Yeah, partner…we know,” Abe said. 

Chapter 5

Palermo, Italy

The sand kicked up, as John’s booted feet sped across the soft ground. Even as he ran, he felt like his destination somehow became further and further away. He could see where he was going, a column on the corner of the huge mansion ahead. A soft orange light shone down on the ocean waves from the open window. The gentle sound of salt water lapping at the shore. He could hear the wind coming off the sea to rustle through the trees. Pumping his feet harder, he finally felt as if he were making headway. He had to get there. It was taking too long. He had to somehow move faster. He had to get to her. Who? Why? And then he remembered. Marlena. It was always about Marlena.

Suddenly, in a single span of time, inexplicably, he found himself near a copse of stones, surrounded by lush tropical plants. He knew what to do, still not understanding how he knew. Making his way through a crevice between the large stones, he entered a tunnel system. He knew which way to turn at every intersection in the dimly lit passage. He could feel his heart racing, and his breath coming heavy in his chest.

Marlena. Marlena. He had to get to her. Air wrenched from his chest at every breath. He reached the panel that he knew, with no proper memory, would lead him into her room. It would lead him to her, because he could feel her just on the other side. Sliding it open, he entered the room, with deep shadowy corners, but lit with the silvery light of a full moon. A memory struck him like lightning. The space…he recognized it. It had once been his room. He could feel it, even as his mind struggled to recall. He knew.

The open space was largely the same, the ornate wardrobe, the large four poster bed, and the bookshelves lined with books, where John could feel that all of his secrets were somehow entombed. Even up as high as they were, away from the ground, he could still hear the soft sound of the oceans waves softly washing along the sand, and he eyes landed on Marlena’s curled form lying in the center of the bed. It was as if everything was right. Nothing else mattered at all, because he had Marlena.

He tried to reach her, but he couldn’t. He felt he was moving, but getting no closer. His body was sluggish, his limbs heavy. In desperation, he called out from where he was rooted, “Doc!” She stirred, curling tighter around herself with a breathy moan of contentment, as John screamed out, “Doc! Please wake up!”

And then, suddenly, he was beside her, touching her face gingerly, with the soft pads of his fingers. He felt hot tears on his cheeks, as he drowned in her beauty, her softness, and the knowledge that she was safe. “Oh, baby, you’re so beautiful. Wake up for me…please wake up, and show me those gorgeous hazel eyes.”

Marlena made a low sound of appreciation in her throat, and her eyes fluttered. She stared up at him in wonder, while her brows creased in confusion, “John?”

“Hey, Doc,” his voice drawled softly. His palm caressed her face, and his thumb gently traced over her bottom lip. She was safe. She was right there, and he knew he shouldn’t be touching her. But why? Why shouldn’t he touch her? He loved her. She loved him.

Small, feminine fingers reached for his face, tracing his jawline, as she smiled at him gently, still lost in the haze of being half awake,”John…you’re here. I’ve missed you so.”

“I will always find you,” he whispered. “I promise.”

“Always, always,” she breathed softly, pulling him closer to her.

So close. They were so close. He stared down at her pillowy lips, murmuring, “Your mouth…I want…baby, I need to kiss—”

“—do it! Kiss me…please, John, kiss me,” she begged him breathlessly.

Just as his lips touched hers, feeling warmth and softness, he felt the sting of a needle in his neck, and a strong grip on his shoulder. John’s head rolled back, looking up into Stefano’s dark eyes, and feral smile. His eyes rolled back towards the woman in his arms, and he slurred, “Where are you?”

Marlena leaned forward, smiling softly with love and adoration, as if nothing remiss were happening, and she whispered against his ear with hot breath, “Baliceaux, Baliceaux…don’t forget, John, don’t forget, Baliceaux…”

“Marlena!” John roared, jolting from his sleep. “Doc!” His head swiveled as he looked around his darkened bedroom, realizing that he wasn’t with Marlena. He suddenly felt bereft, as if he had lost her all over again, even though she had never been in his arms to begin with. But it felt so real. A sob choked him, fighting free of his chest. He was in his home in Italy. He glanced over as Rebecca slid from their bed quietly, and made her way towards the bathroom. John watched her sadly, knowing she was hurt. That much was obvious. He told her softly, “Rebecca, I’m sorry. I was dreaming—”

“I just need some space, John,” she replied quietly, as she closed the door.

He ran his fingers through his closely cropped dark hair, and whispered to himself, “Shit…” Getting out of bed, John slid his slippers on his feet, and stood staring at the bathroom door for a long moment. He should calm her down. He couldn’t, and he didn’t understand why. All he knew was that his heart was breaking, as if he had lost Marlena all over again, and as much as his shouting out for her had hurt Rebecca, he couldn’t bring himself to reassure her. He was hurting too much.

In the bathroom, Rebecca stood with her forehead resting on the door, hoping, praying that John would come to her. He didn’t. A soft sob broke free of her when she heard the creak of his footsteps on the stairs. She cupped her hand over her mouth to stifle her cries, and she wept. She was losing him. As surely as she loved him, she could feel it deep in her soul. Over the last two weeks, Rebecca had often wondered if she was losing him. Lost in his own world, she would find herself reminding him to eat, and begging him to come to bed at night. Their life together had been perfect two weeks ago, and a package from Stefano DiMera was destroying it all. John was lost. She sank to the bathroom tile, and cried softly into her hands.

Downstairs, John stood in the doorway to his small office staring at his desk in the waning moonlight. The sun would be rising soon. His mind was grasping at threads of the dream. Pinching his eyes tightly closed, he willed his last moments with Marlena to come back to him, and then he heard it, Baliceaux. His eyes opened and landed on the map spread across his desk.

He scrambled across the room snatching it up, and as his eyes scanned it, he whispered to himself, “Baliceaux…don’t forget…don’t forget, Baliceaux.” When he found the small island on the map, he released the breath he hadn’t even known he was holding, and he nearly wept with joy. He was sure no one would believe him, if he told them. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he believed it himself, but something inside him said he’d located Marlena. He’d connected with Marlena.

John walked over to the large window, and stared into the shadows created by the large ficus tree. He could get lost in the long branches and roots of the centuries old tree. He imagined hiding in the crevices, pushing Marlena against a woody branch, and kissing her. Shaking his head quickly he walked away from the window. “I can’t do this,” he mumbled. “I can’t start allowing these thoughts and these feelings for Marlena to come back…” But in the back of his mind he heard Marlena’s voice asking him, did they ever go?

In a mere moment, John felt his chest tighten. He raced to his back door, wrenching it open, and kicked off his slippers. Stepping into the fading moonlight, and dew covered grass, he sighed at the coolness against the skin of his feet. Forcing his body to take in gulps of fresh morning air, while his mind played Marlena’s words over and over, he found himself whispering, “I can’t be sure.” And yet, he was sure. Stefano had Marlena, and he had her on the island of Baliceaux, in the Caribbean.

He hadn’t even been aware he was approaching the ficus tree, until the ground beneath his bare feet changed. The rounded curves of the banyan branches against his soles, brought him back to reality, and John looked around, wishing again, that he could get lost in the shadows of this great tree with Marlena’s small hand clasped in his. Missing her was something he did constantly. He could admit only to himself that an hour had barely passed over the last two years, where a thought, or a moment wouldn’t remind him of her. But the dream of her? He’d woken with the taste of her on his lips, and while he knew it was impossible, it didn’t take away the fact that he could still taste her.

Rebecca watched from their bedroom window as her husband crept in and out of the ficus tree roots on their back lawn. He was shirtless, and barefoot, a sight to behold in the early morning light. He was beautiful. She wanted to go to him, and comfort him, but she couldn’t, because he was out there mourning another woman. Rebecca felt her fingernails dig into her palms. She wanted to wail, screech, and rage against the unfairness of it all. None of it was fair. Marlena had let John go. She’d allowed him to leave Salem. If she’d wanted him, loved him the way she should have…if she’d asked him to stay…he would have stayed. Instead, Marlena had allowed him to go, and now he wandered through the morning shadows of their ficus tree lost in a dream.

Deep in the bowels of the tree, John rested his forehead on one of the hanging branches, and he breathed softly, “She’s on Baliceaux. I know it. I can feel it.” In that one single breath, he knew he was going to get her. Nothing would stop him. He knew the island, even if he couldn’t recall how. He would be able to sneak in the night, and get her…and even if he couldn’t, he would be with her. Maybe that’s what mattered. Whatever it was, he knew, he couldn’t continue to sit in his home surrounded by maps and notes, wondering…worrying. He was going to go get her.

With one last deep breath, John stepped from the shadows of the large tree, and into the early dawn light. He didn’t know what possessed him in that moment, but he glanced up towards his bedroom window, to see his wife’s eyes staring down at him with heartbreak. It didn’t change his mind. He would still do whatever he could to get Marlena away from Stefano DiMera, but he was regretful that in the process he would hurt Rebecca so deeply. He never wanted to hurt her. He loved her, although not as much as he’d loved Isabella, and never as much as he loved Marlena, but John had grown to realize that he would never be able to love someone the way he loved Marlena. She pulled at his soul like no other, and John imagined that as their souls traveled from life to life, she tugged his heart along with her.

As he started the long trek across their yard, Rebecca disappeared from the window, and when he reached the open backdoor, she stood there in the soft pink light, beautiful in her own way, with tears shining in her eyes.

“You’re going after her aren’t you?” Rebecca asked him softly.

“I have to,” he replied, touching the curve of her jaw softly. “I can’t stay here, knowing Stefano has Marlena, and do nothing. That’s not the kind of man I am.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I just wish…I wish you were. I wish you were the man who could forget her, and let her husband search for her. That you could let her go, and let the ISA search for her.”

“If something happened…if she died, or if she were hurt—”

“—you couldn’t live with that,” Rebecca said, cutting him off. “You’re an honorable man, John Black.” And he was. It was one of the reasons she fell in love with him so quickly. While she could be harsh, sometimes brutal in the courtroom, doing whatever she needed to do to win a case, John was nothing like that. He was honest, fair, and loyal. He was the perfect compliment to her pessimistic nature. Rebecca traced her fingers over his morning beard, and she said, “It’s just hard…knowing that the reasons I love you, are the reasons pulling you away.”

John tipped his head forward, kissing her softly, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Rebecca, but I—I have to do this.”

She stared into his deep blue eyes, watching them well up with tears, and she remembered waking as he shouted for Marlena, and hearing his sob. Wiping the tears from his face, she whispered, “I know.” 

Chapter 6

Baliceaux Island

Tears flowed over her cheeks, when Marlena woke from a dream that was lost to her. She couldn’t remember any of it, all she was left with was heart wrenching pain and grief. She wasn’t certain how much time passed by. She curled into herself, frozen in loneliness and sadness. Reaching underneath her pillow, her fingers stroked the spine of Moby Dick, still safely tucked in place. Whispering to herself, she said, “John wouldn’t want me to be weak. He’d tell me…I’m stronger than this. He’d promise to come find me…” Marlena stopped, realizing where her mind was going, and she said quickly, “Oh, no…no, Roman will find me.” But even as she said aloud that Roman would find her, she didn’t feel that he would. It would be John.

It was still dark, when she sat up, and turned on the bedside lamp. Leaning against the pillows she’d stacked behind her, she opened up the copy of Moby Dick that had once belonged to John. The books on the bookshelf hadn’t been touched for years, that much was obvious. Marlena couldn’t determine if Stefano knew what was written in the books. His mind was devious, and she didn’t think there would be much he wasn’t aware of, but why leave them so that she could read John’s pain…know his secrets?

Some of it was so cryptic. An underlined quote, or marginal scrawl that referenced Stefano’s madness mirroring Captain Ahab’s insanity. Flipping through the pages her finger landed on a line, To the last I grapple with thee; from hell’s heart I stab at thee; for hate’s sake I spit my last breath at thee. To the side, in the margin, John had scrawled, “Maybe, I’ve come to hate him as much as he hates me. Maybe, my last dying breath will have Stefano DiMera at my mercy…although he has never shown me any. Perhaps his existence has led me to the same fate that mine had led him to. Hatred.“

“Oh, John,” Marlena whispered, wondering what he had suffered while he resided there. “My darling, how much pain you must have been in.”

She was lost for a moment in memories, in their life together when they were married, when Roman returned…Orpheus. But, what came at her most strongly, was the memory of the first time John had ever kissed her, the first time she’d tasted him, and then, she’d also slapped him. It had been so long ago. It certainly felt so long ago. She wasn’t sure why that particular memory was coming to her. Maybe it was the comparison of Stefano to Captain Ahab, or the fact that she had mistakenly believed John might have been Stefano when she’d slapped him all those years ago.

Closing her eyes, she could feel John’s lips on hers, and she remembered the soft whining sob she’d released as she wept into his mouth. She could still feel the cool spring breeze blowing off of the river, and alongs her exposed neck. She may have slapped him, but she’d known she belonged to him as soon as his hands had clenched her hair, and his lips took hers. Slapping him had been purely reactionary. Her lips still vibrated with the memory.

Marlena turned to him with anger, and frustration, “I just want to hate you so much!”

“Why?” he asked her defensively. “For something that happened in my other life? A past life! You don’t hate me. I can see it in your eyes.”

He was right. She was in love with him. She looked away with guilt and shame. She might even love him more than she’d ever loved anyone in her life. A soft sob escaped her, as she tried to walk away, she felt the tight grip of John’s hand in her jacket, pulling her back.

“Don’t pull away from me! Why won’t you just admit it?” he asked her roughly. His hands gripped her face, lacing tightly into her hair, as he rasped, “You want me, just as much as I want you!”

“No, I don’t—” she said, but then his lips were on her, scorching a path straight to her heart. Brutal at first, claiming her, and then soft, so soft, she lost herself and sobbed into his open mouth. She stared up at him. This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t allow it to happen, and yet, even as she slapped him, she knew…she was his. There was no stopping the trajectory her life had taken as she wept into his soft lips. Immediately remorseful, she said, “John…”

“Just call me Stefano,” he said sadly.

Marlena whispered, “I don’t know what to call you anymore, I’m so confused. I oughta hate you! I really should, you know.” But, in her heart she didn’t feel hatred at all. Hatred was the last emotion she would ever feel for John Black, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth. “You killed the man that I loved, you robbed my children of their father, and every time I look at you, I forget that ever happened!” She started crying softly, staring up into his dark blue eyes, while emotions of sadness and hopelessness flowed from hers. “I don’t want to forget it…I can’t forget it,” she said, with little conviction. “There’s no place for you in my life. Don’t you know that?” Unable to continue to face him, and see the hurt in his eyes, she turned away.

She felt the heat of John’s body press against her back, as he whispered, “I know that. But, do you know how it makes me feel to hear you say those things? All I can think about is you, sharing your life with me.”

Marlena gave up what little fight she had left. Her face fell, so that her cheek rested on John’s hand, and she knew…she belonged to him. She turned to face him, and softly, she said, “What are we going to do?” Because in her heart, there was no other option than to find a solution. Letting John go was not a choice.

She came back to herself when she heard the lock turning on the door to her room. She glanced around quickly, noting the morning light shining in her window. How much time had she lost, while she’d been thinking about John? Stefano stepped into her room, closely followed by Mason. “I want you to join me for breakfast.”

She stared at him suspiciously, but gave him no reply. Noticing Mason again, she realized he was close to Stefano in age, and he had coloring similar to John. Stefano noticed Marlena staring at Mason, and said, “Ah, you always were intelligent, Marlena. I suppose you’re noticing the similarities between John and Mason?”

Still, she said nothing, and Stefano obviously had no intention of elaborating, but she noticed a small change in the creases around Mason’s eyes. He was studying her. He was curious about the interaction between her and Stefano, although he wouldn’t voice it.

“While we wait on John to rescue you—”

“—Roman will come,” Marlena said quickly, cutting him off.

Stefano laughed heartily, “Roman will be working just as diligently, but Marlena, do not give yourself false hope, John will be the one to find you.”

She looked away, saying nothing as Stefano continued, “And, while we wait for John, because as we both know it will only be a matter of time, I have decided to allow you out of your room during the day. You will have freedom to roam the estate, and the beach if you like…and you will take your meals with me, or you won’t eat.”

“I don’t understand,” Marlena said softly.

“Mason has been assigned to you,” Stefano said, watching as Marlena’s eyes landed on Mason again in curiosity. “Don’t try anything, Marlena. Or you will find yourself limited to this room once again…do you understand?”

Her eyes narrowed with hatred, and Stefano said, “Mason will not divulge my secrets. He works for me…and he is loyal to me.” He turned to leave, and then stopped, coming back around to face her, “John will be here. It’s only a matter of time.”

“I still don’t understand,” she said softly. “Your vendetta against Roman…and the Brady’s…why pull John back into this? His life has been so hard. Why are you doing this to him? Why do you hate him so?”

Stefano’s eyes narrowed, and he said quietly, “John Black was born. His very existence is his crime, and he…along with everyone else, will pay for that.” As Stefano left her room, she heard him say to Mason, “Station yourself outside of her door. Where she goes, you go.”

“Yes, sir,” Mason replied, stepping into the hallway.

Marlena’s fingers gripped the copy of Moby Dick held tightly in her hand. She wasn’t sure how she’d managed to land on the passage her finger pointed to, but she read, There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness. Beneath it, John had written, “Stefano has been so hurt, so betrayed, that in his quest for vengeance he will burn the world. His secrets are buried, and I am just one of them.“

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Shawn & Caroline Brady Residence

Salem, USA

Roman was sitting at his parents dining room table staring over a list of Stefano DiMera’s properties. He had several in the Caribbean, but none of them were on or near St. Vincent. Sighing in frustration he ran his fingers through his hair, and stood up from the table, intent on getting himself another cup of coffee. Glancing over at his father on the couch, Roman said, “Pop? You want a cup of coffee?”

Shawn seemed startled from his thoughts, and he said quickly, “No, Roman. I’m fine.”

Roman stared at his father for a moment, saying, “You’ve been pretty quiet over there, Pop. You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just fine,” Shawn replied. “I’ll be more settled when this matter with Stefano DiMera and Marlena is settled. It was easier thinkin’ that man was dead.”

“You’re right about that,” Roman said, sitting back down at the table, and pulling the list towards him again. “I don’t know what to do, Pop. None of these properties are in the region of St. Vincent.”

Shawn was quiet for a moment, wondering if he should say anything, but finally he said, “He might have property under an alias.”

“An alias?” Roman murmured. “I’d never considered it…it’s possible. What made you think of that?”

Unwilling to say much more, Shawn replied, “Well, the man is supposed to be dead, ain’t he? I thought, maybe he used a different name.”

Roman stared at Shawn with a crease of confusion in his brow, “That’s all?”

“What else would it be?”

Shaking his head, Roman replied, “Nothing. Nothing. Did Kim say what time she and Shane would be arriving?”

“Yer Ma has the details, but I think she said near dinnertime,” Shawn said.

The doorbell rang. “You expecting someone, Pop?” Roman asked, walking towards the door. Standing on the front stoop was a young man, no older than twenty, with a package in his hand that had Roman’s gut clenching in an instant.

Roman snatched the package, and noticed a St. Vincent postmark again, while the courier said weakly, “I—I need a signature, sir.”

Chapter 7

Shawn & Caroline Brady Residence

Salem, USA

Roman stared blankly at the photos in his hand, and then lifted his head to stare at the other people in the room. Kim, Caroline, Shawn, Bo, Abe, and Shane surrounded him in silence, waiting for his next move. Roman sighed, glancing at the photos again. There was a man in the photos with Marlena. A man who looked remarkably like John Black. Finally, in low tones, he said, “The man who’s with her…he looks like John.”

Shane reached for the photo, “I agree. He bears a striking resemblance, but it’s not John. This man is older, and slightly broader in the shoulders.”

“We haven’t seen John in two years,” Roman said, with jealousy coursing through his veins like acid.

Shawn studied his son, saying softly, “It’s not John, son.” Taking the other photos from Roman’s hand, he looked over them, “If it were John, he’d be closer to Marlena. He wouldn’t leave her open, or unguarded if they were with DiMera. I know John. This man…he’s distant.”

Caroline looked between Shawn and Roman nervously. Shawn didn’t realize how his opinion of John, or his fatherly love for him, still upset Roman. The corner of Roman’s eyes creased with tension, and Caroline knew he was forcing himself to hold back words against the man that she and Shawn had considered their son for seven years. In truth, they still did.

Roman hated his fathers words. He was right, of course. While the man walking along the white sand beach with Marlena looked similar to John, he wasn’t John. Swallowing thickly, Roman stood up, and walked over to the coffee pot sitting near the stove. If the man in those photos were John, he would be walking next to her, and his face wouldn’t look so blank.

He sneered, thinking about it. Even after he and Marlena had recommitted to each other, and John had walked away with Isabella, Roman had known that the two of them still had a connection. He’d never mentioned it. What was there to say? Drawing attention to it, would have been worse. But, he knew. The hugs that lasted a fraction too long, the time he watched as John’s fingers caught Marlena’s as she walked by, the other man’s pinky hooking hers for a brief moment, followed by Marlena’s lips parting softly, when her eyes caught his.

Roman turned to face the group, and said, “Okay…it’s not John. Let’s move on. I checked Stefano’s property ownership, and—”

“—what about alias’?” Shane asked.

“Pop mentioned that, but I wasn’t aware that Stefano had any.”

“The ISA compiled a list. Joseph Wagner, Serge Anatol, and Rudopho Meradi,” Shane said. “But he could own property anywhere in the Caribbean under any name he chooses. Stefano has access to the resources needed to make that possible.”

Kim could see the rage building on Roman’s face. It had been there since their father’s comment about knowing John. So, she wasn’t surprised when Roman pounded his fist on the dining room table, and stalked towards the front door to leave the house. She also wasn’t surprised when he slammed the door behind himself. Just as she moved to go after her obstinate, headstrong brother, Caroline said softly, “No…I’ll go get him.”

“Ma? Are you sure?”

“Yes, he’s upset and overwhelmed about Marlena’s kidnapping. He feels like he should have found her by now,” Caroline said. “I’ll go.”

As soon as the door closed behind her mother, Kim said, “He’s angry that he hasn’t found her yet.” Looking at Abe and Shane she said, “He’s going to be even more upset when he finds out the two of you spoke with John, and didn’t tell him.”

Abe cleared his throat and glanced at the front door before he said, “That was nearly a week ago, and John was just as stumped as we are. He’d narrowed it down to the Caribbean, but that was all.”

“A week ago?” Bo asked incredulously. “It’s John! Come on, Abe! Shane! He’s likely figured it out by now.”

“Ye’re right,” Shawn said. “He knows more. He may have had a lead when ye called him. Ye can bet he does. If he didn’t when ye spoke, he does now.”

“Pop’s right,” Bo said. “I wouldn’t doubt it at all, if John already knows.”

Abe sighed, “He’ll go after her on his own.”

Shane looked surprised, “What makes you say that?”

“John has experience with Stefano. He’ll want to move fast, try and catch him off guard, and…he cares for Marlena,” Abe said, thinking about the years he’d worked so closely with John on the police force.

Shawn knew Abe was right. John did care for Marlena, but he didn’t grasp how deeply he cared until Kim asked, “That’s why he left, huh?”

Still refusing to see, or possibly confused about where the conversation was going, Shawn said, “No, John…he said, he had to go to Italy for EcoSystems. He wouldn’t have left the only family he ever knew otherwise.”

“Wouldn’t he?” Kim whispered. “If he was still in love with Marlena? If she still loved him? Pop, an affair would have torn the family apart.”

“She’s right,” Abe said softly. “He spoke with me before he left. He loved her. He’d never stopped.”

“You knew?” Bo asked. “Did they…did they have an affair?”

Abe remembered John’s melancholy when he said, “No, not that I’m aware of—”

“—John gave it all up,” Shawn said sadly. “When Roman came home, he gave it all up, and we all accepted that…because he had Isabella, and the baby what was a comin’…”

The room was bathed in silence as they all considered the tragedy that had befallen Isabella. She and John barely had time to celebrate her pregnancy when she received the cancer diagnosis. She refused chemotherapy immediately, believing she could carry the baby to term and then start chemo, but the cancer was aggressive. John watched helplessly as she became sicker. He’d begged her to terminate the pregnancy. He’d pleaded with her, and her doctor’s had as well, but Isabella’s entire focus was on giving John a family. She wanted to replace the family he’d lost. That’s why it was all the more heartbreaking when she gave birth to Brady Victor Black at barely seventeen weeks gestation. The child was stillborn, and Isabella Toscano died less than a week later.

Roman stood in the doorway to his parents home in silence, with his mother standing behind him. He’d entered the house at the tail end of the conversation, but he’d heard enough. Quietly, Roman asked the group, “John left Salem because he was in love with my wife?”

No one spoke for a moment, and then Shawn said, “They were married once, Roman.”

“He had Isabella!” Roman said loudly.

“Roman,” Abe said carefully. “He lost Isabella…and Marlena, she kept him sane when that happened. She held him together after the baby was gone, and then Isabella followed so soon. It’s not possible to turn emotions off.”

Roman stared at Abe, and asked, “And Marlena? When John left, how did she feel about him?”

Caroline was quick to console Roman, “Marlena loves you, Roman! You know that!”

He didn’t say anything in response. He couldn’t, because he realized that the doubt that had been boiling in his gut in the year leading up to John’s move to Italy, hadn’t been unfounded. Picking up the photos again, he studied Marlena’s face. She seemed peaceful, unhurt at least. Her eyes were closed as she faced the sea, and tilted her head back. Was she thinking of John with that wistful look on her face, or was she thinking of him?

Staring at the man standing three steps behind her, Roman turned the picture to face the others, and said, “This man is obviously one of Stefano’s mercenaries.”

Bo studied the photo, “How can you be sure?”

“I was a prisoner of Stefano’s for seven years. Look at that man’s face,” Roman said. “What’s missing?”

Quietly, Kim said, “Emotion.”

Roman nodded, “We need to look back over the list of private islands, and cross check ownership with Stefano’s alias’.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Palermo, Italy

John had started packing a small backpack within fifteen minutes of getting the third package. Photographs of Marlena walking along the beach with a man who was obviously one of Stefano’s mercenaries. He’d already been fairly certain that Marlena was in Baliceaux. The photos confirmed it. He hadn’t mentioned his dream to Rebecca, because she would have never understood him speeding off to the Caribbean on a hunch. Once he’d gotten the latest delivery from Stefano, John knew it was more than that. He’d recognized the looming estate on the rock face behind Marlena, and as memories flashed in his mind, and he’d recognized the copse of rocks, and the crevice from his dream, he knew. He knew the interior of the home as if he’d just been there. It wasn’t a hunch, it was fact. Stefano had Marlena in the Grenadines, and he was going to find her.

Rebecca had been silent the whole time, watching John and studying his every move. Finally, as he zipped his backpack, and the rough sound filled the silent room, she said, “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

Sighing softly, he turned towards her, reaching for her hand and holding it lightly. “I’m not sure. Hopefully just a few days…not more than a week. EcoSystems could run itself, but I’ve spoken with Victor.”

“You spoke with Victor?” Rebecca asked him. “John…you think this could, that you could be gone longer, don’t you?”

“No, Rebecca—”

“—don’t lie to me!” she cried. “Whatever you do, John—do not lie to me.”

His fingers softly stroked her jaw, “I’m sorry. I hope that I’ll get to Marlena and be back within the week, but Stefano is diabolical. I know he’s pulling me in…that this is potentially a trap, but—”

“—then why? Why do this?” Rebecca asked him desperately. “If you know what he’s capable of, bring back-up. Call Abe!Get the ISA involved!”

“I don’t have time!” he said with frustration, and then more softly he repeated, “I don’t have time.”

“Because of Marlena?”

“Yes, because of Marlena! Because of what Stefano could do to her, and what he has done to her. Rebecca, the last time he had her for five years! She lost five years of her life…five years with her children, and five years with—”

John stopped speaking abruptly, but Rebecca finished, “Five years with you? But John, she’s no longer your responsibility.” She wiped the tears from her face furiously, ashamed of her own weakness. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I do,” he told her, slipping his backpack onto his shoulder. He double checked that he had the mini flashlight and multitool the cargo pocket of his pants. Adjusting his baseball cap, he said softly, “I have to go.”

“I’m going to Salem,” Rebecca said quickly. John seemed surprised, but he said nothing. He was leaving to search for Marlena, fully aware that there was a high potential that he might never return. Rebecca knew why he’d contacted Victor. He was willing to take that risk for Marlena, but would he do the same for Rebecca? Or would he wait for back up? Glancing at her quickly, he said, “I’ve got to get to the airport. I’ll—I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Just as he stepped away, he felt Rebecca’s hand on his sleeve, stalling him, “I love you.”

Pausing, he looked into her tear filled eyes, “I love you, too. I’ll be home soon.” He kissed her gently, one more time, and whispered, “I promise.”

Chapter 8

Victor Kiriakis’ Private Plane

February 1993

The rain outside the aircraft beat against the metal body and against the windows, creating a tinny sound. That sound, combined with crashes of thunder, and the sound of Marlena’s ragged breathing were all that was audible inside. She stared at John with eyes wide, unable to get a clear picture of him, because of the tears clouding her vision. Her mind was racing. Why was he so calm? How could he be so calm? How could he leave her, and the children? Realistically, she knew why, but her heart had never been in complete agreement with her mind. Especially when it came to John Black. It was, and always had been, a near constant war…except during the limited amount of time they had together when she’d believed he was Roman.

While John sat there, and reassured her that she could, and would move on, she wasn’t sure she believed it. She needed to know if this was hurting him as much as it was hurting her. She couldn’t stop crying as she sobbed, “It’s just…you’re so much…a part of my life.” Wiping the tears as they dropped from her face, she whispered, “I don’t know what I…I don’t know what I would do…if you weren’t.”

John touched her face softly. His face was emotionless, as if he had shut down completely. His soft voice whispered, “Doc…hey, c’mon…Doc…don’t be unhappy. That’s the last thing I want—”

“—this doesn’t make you unhappy at all?” she cried in agony.

That was when John lost his control. He lost his ability to be strong for her, as he shouted, “I’m past that, Doc! I’m free-falling!” He stared into her beautiful tear streaked face, and he said more softly, as if he were telling her the secrets hidden deep within his soul, “With just the idea that I am never going to see you again. I am never going to hear you laugh…I’m never going to smell your perfume, and I’m never going to touch you.”

It was when Marlena felt the heat of John’s skin, sliding along her thigh as he grasped her hand, that she sobbed out in a last desperate plea, “Oh, G-d!”

The time for words was past. They were beyond that, both of them adrift in a haze of loss and heartbreak…aware of the pain that their impending separation would bring them. Gripping the lapels of Marlena’s soft white coat, John waited barely a single second, before he flipped the button near her neck open, with a quick movement of his thumb. Neither said a word. He knew what he wanted, and he knew what she wanted. It was the first time in months that they weren’t lying to each other or trying to hide their feelings. Wide hazel eyes, clouded with tears, stared up at him. Her lips parted as if to speak, but not even a whisper was uttered.

“Tell me what you want, Doc,” John told her breathlessly, almost as if he were begging her. He didn’t need to ask, he knew that, but he needed…no, he wanted to hear her say it. Leaning close to her ear, allowing his hot breath to waft over her soft skin, he whispered roughly, “Tell…me…what…you…want.”

Her head fell back, exposing the length of her neck, as she cried out again helplessly, “Oh, G-d!”

Unable to resist, John lapped his tongue over her soft skin, tasting the salt and tang of her perfume. He couldn’t help it, he bit her softly. “Tell me, Doc…baby…please! I need to hear it,” he said, burying his face in her hair, while still gripping her coat tightly. “I need to hear it.”

“I want you,” she gasped. “I want your hands on my body, and your lips on mine. I want you. I know I shouldn’t…but, I do.”

There was no stopping him. Her surrender was complete. It was erotic. It was beautiful. “Look at me,” he commanded her. Marlena’s eyes lifted, catching his. Half-lidded, sexy, hazel eyes that held elements of amber, spring grass, and flecks of light brown. Gorgeous. Alluring. “Doc,” John groaned, resting his forehead on hers. “Oh, G-d, Doc.”

Marlena’s small hand lifted, the pads of her fingers brushing his lips with the softest whisper of touch, and he was lost. A sharp gasp emanated from her parted lips as he jerked her body even closer by the lapels of her coat. His mouth hovered over hers, the balmy moisture of his breath wafting over her lips, and when he roughly pushed her coat to the floor, she sobbed with needing him. Want and desire was pulled from where it was buried, in the recesses of her brain, born of a love that never died.

John’s mouth claimed her almost viciously, and relief unlike any she had ever known escaped her. John sucked her cries down, making them a part of him. His mouth pulled at hers, his tongue caressed hers, and all the while he devoured her cries…until he felt her begin to kiss him back. A kiss born of desperation, that he only softened when he felt her acquiescence.

Her mind was racing. One palm landed on his chest, as if to push him away, while the other threaded into his dark hair. She knew she should stop this, and step away. There would be no happy ending to come of this. Again her heart and her mind were at war, and in an instant, Marlena decided that for once in her life, she was going to allow her heart to win, come what may.

She stared up at him, and John looked at her with one question in his eyes, saying only, “Doc?”

Softly, in the breath of a whisper, she uttered her answer, “Yes.” Threading her fingers into his dark hair, Marlena moaned, while pulling his mouth back to hers.

She couldn’t think past where they were in time and space. She couldn’t consider Roman, or what her actions might do to him. She couldn’t consider the children, or the rest of the family. Her heart took control, and all rational thought was pushed down.

John knew it was out of character, and he knew she would likely be consumed with guilt, and regret it later. None of that mattered. None of it. Quickly, he lifted her, bracing underneath her arms, and he nearly dragged her to the sofa. He didn’t have the patience to try and seduce her, or woo her with soft words. They had waited too long. Their bodies crashed down, and John’s mouth was upon her again. Licking across her soft pillowy lips, and sucking her spirit into his soul, as her gasps, and soft mewling sounds escaped her.

John was almost frenzied in his desire to get his skin on hers. He sat up, straddling her body tightly with his thighs, as he struggled to get his jacket off. Passion had taken over Marlena. He could read it in her eyes, and the feel of her muscles moving underneath his legs. She tore his necktie off, and reached for him, dragging his mouth back to hers with a cry of want, “John!”

He chuckled lightly, “Hold on, baby. Hold on. Let me get my hands out of this damn jacket.” The jacket landed on the floor near Marlena’s coat, and his hastily discarded necktie, and John briefly thought he should stop what they were about to do. He should pull back, and get space from her, and end it, but he couldn’t. Marlena pulled him back, panting into him, and there was no going back. She’d never kissed him with such desperation, and he wouldn’t refuse her.

Soft lips kissed along hers, devouring her, and then John bit her neck…hard. He licked over the stinging flesh, and bit her jaw, unable to control himself, as she cried, “More!”

It was hard to hold back from tearing the soft pink fabric of her dress, and his fingers fumbled, taking twice as long to get it off her. When she was fully exposed, with nothing more than silky beige satin covering her peaked breasts, John groaned, “I have missed you, Doc. I have missed you so much.” Leaning forward he licked over the fabric, flicking her nipple with his tongue and growling.

His hands gripped her hips tightly, sliding up her ribcage to cup her breasts as Marlena arched into his rough touch. And when John pinched her nipples, pulling them roughly, she screamed into the silent cabin of the aircraft, her voice renting the air, as the storm continued to rage outside. The strap of her camisole tore in John’s haste to push it over her shoulders, but he couldn’t stop. The ecstasy driven sounds emitting from her plump lips were driving him mad.

Marlena was normally calm, cool, and completely in control, but when she made love, she was a siren, calling to his most primitive nature. “Slow down, baby…slow down. I can’t tear your clothes,” he whispered, thinking she had nothing else to wear if he did. She arched her spine, silently begging him to touch her, begging for more of him.

Marlena responded to him like no other. She stared at John, and whispered, “I want to taste you.” John leaned closer, baring his neck to her, and nearly collapsed from want at the feel of her moist tongue sliding over his skin. 

Her fingers fumbled and shook, trying to maneuver the small buttons of his dress shirt through the minute holes they were trapped in. John bit her throat again, not caring if he left a mark, and he whispered roughly, “Rip it…tear it…I don’t care, Doc, just get the shirt open. I need your hands on me.” The sound of buttons hitting the carpeted floor, and the ripping of cotton filled the air, as Marlena forced her way inside his shirt. The sensation of her fingernails scraping over his hot flesh, caused him to growl, “Fuck yes, baby.”

In moments, their clothing scattered the floor around them, and Marlena sighed, feeling the soft slide of John’s body flush against hers. Her legs fell open with his gentle urging, and when his fingers softly swept through her moist folds, she arched into him, crying out again. “I want you,” she panted, staring up into his blown pupils. “John, please…I need you, now.”

“Marlena,” he gasped, having difficulty holding himself back. He wanted to slide into her, hard and fast, but they hadn’t been together in years, and he didn’t want to hurt her. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” she whispered, her eyes bright. “I want to feel you…I want—”

John knew what she meant immediately. She liked the feel of his length stretching her, and she used to crave his deep thrusts, pushing into her cervix. “You’re sure?” he asked cautiously.

“Oh, G-d…yes,” she begged him, biting his bottom lip. “I want to feel you.”

Large, rough hands spread her thighs wide, and John gazed down at her moist pink center, with a growl. With one last glance at her, her asked her again, “You’re sure?”

“Please?” she begged him, the fingers of one hand digging into his hip as her other hand reached for his cock. “I want you inside me…I need it.”

Lifting his body high, hovering over her bare, prone form, he felt her fingers squeezing his length. John’s head fell forward, “Fuck, that feels so good, Doc…so fucking good.” Tipping his hips forward slightly, he began to enter her. It was the softest, warmest heaven, and John cried out, “Awww, baby…so fucking good.”

She thrust her hips up and pulled at John’s body. He didn’t need much encouragement to fully seat himself inside her. The end of his cock bumped Marlena’s cervix, and she screamed out, “Again!” He pushed in deeper, watching her eyes close.

Buried in her, his hips withdrew and quickly pushed back inside, while he bit her shoulder with a deep growl. She was so wet, and so tight, he thought he might pass out from the pleasure. “I love you,” he said, lifting his head to stare at her. “I love you so fucking much, Doc.”

A sob tore free from her chest, as a thought of Roman passed through her mind. Pushing it down, she pulled John’s mouth to hers, and whispered, “I love you…I love you so much.”

They came together as if they had never been apart. John’s hands and his mouth knew her body, her every move. He absorbed every cry, and every writhe of her soft body against his. He absorbed it all, because he knew it was the end. This would be the last time he would be able to hold her, to love her the way he had dreamed of. It was a spiritual melding of souls as they reached their climax together.

And when it was over, and their hearts had slowed, along with their breathing, John held Marlena tightly in his arms. He focused on the feel of her lips kissing his chest, and her fingers caressing his abdomen, and he never wanted it to end. Brushing her hair back, he whispered, “I love you.”

“No… you can’t love me,” she said quietly, rubbing her face against him, trying to memorize his scent.

“I love you,” he said more firmly. “And you love me too. We just proved that.”

Marlena began to feel sick, sitting up quickly, and trying to pull away from John. He pulled her back down, holding her close, and he buried his face in her hair, saying softly, “That’s why I have to leave Salem, Doc. What just happened between us…it will happen again. It will destroy your marriage…it will hurt the family. I have to leave.”

Marlena’s hot tears dripped onto his chest, as she replied, “No…no…we can, we can fight those feelings. We can push them down. I can’t lose you, John…oh, G-d, I can’t.”

“You’re not losing me, Doc. You will never lose me. As long as I draw breath, I will love you…that’s why I have to do this. I have to leave…for you. It’s not to hurt you,” he told her. The feel of his fingers along the bare skin of her shoulder, and the vibration of his gravelly voice in his chest made her ache deep inside.

She sobbed quietly, and pulled away from him. “I’m losing you,” she cried. “I don’t know what happened…I came here to beg you…to stop you from leaving, and I’ve only pushed you away.”

John tipped her face to his, kissing her softly, “That’s not what you’ve done. I can’t…I can’t stay here, and ruin your life. I can’t, and I can’t ask you to break up your family.”

“It was once your family,” she told him. “It was your’s…”

“It’s not anymore, and I can’t pretend it is. I won’t stay here and destroy you. I love you too fucking much, Doc.” 

John tipped her head back and kissed her again. A deep, searching kiss, and Marlena gave him back exactly what he was searching for. Allowing him to pull her back down beside him, she groaned into him, when his palm swept over her bare hip, and down, along her thigh. “John,” she sighed. “Oh, G-d, John…”

He turned Marlena’s body, so that her bottom rested against his burgeoning cock, and he whispered, “I need you again…I can’t say goodbye just yet.” 

It was more than an hour later, after John had made love to her once more, when Marlena sat in her car sobbing, as she watched Victor’s plane take off. She was immobile, crying for the piece of her soul that was gone, and she wasn’t sure she would ever recover from that.

Chapter 9

**Trigger Warning: Detailed description of miscarriage, which may be troubling to some readers.**

Baliceaux Island

When Marlena woke she felt hollow inside. There was always that moment, when she first woke up, where she would forget where she was and expect to have Roman lying beside her. She would glance around the room in confusion, taking in her surroundings with a sinking sense of loneliness and dread. That didn’t happen this time. She laid in bed, staring up at the barely discernible ceiling, and took a deep breath to ground herself.

Dreaming of John brought a deep sense of loneliness upon waking, remembering she was with Stefano DiMera brought helplessness. Marlena closed her eyes. She could still feel John’s hand tightly clasped in hers, and the strong grip of his hands on her hips. She could still feel the tingle left behind by his fierce kisses, and she could still see the pain that marred his features. He’d walked her to her car, and his last words echoed in her mind…

“I have to do this. I can’t stay here and destroy your life. I love you too much to do that!”

“What about you?” she sobbed. The storm had passed, but the lights of the runway cast a glow over John’s skin that had her reaching for him again. The asphalt glowed around them. Anyone could see them, and yet she didn’t care. Her heart was breaking and she couldn’t manage to feel ashamed or guilty. Her fingers traced his jaw softly, asking him again in a choked voice,”What about you?”

“I’ll—I’ll be okay, Doc,” he rasped, but then he leaned down, kissing her again. A series of soft, tender kisses that left her clinging to his shirt. John breathed deeply of her, a scent that was distinctly her, intermingled with him. It was sexy as fuck, and John rubbed his cheek along her neck, with a deep groan of pain.

Marlena knew it was hurting him as much as it was hurting her, but the alternative was something she couldn’t face. Maybe it was something she refused to face, all she knew was that their separation at this point was inevitable. She felt selfish for allowing him to go; however, she also knew that John was right. If he stayed in Salem, they would make love again, and he genuinely felt like leaving was the only option.

“I love you,” she whispered, threading her fingers into his hair, and holding his face against her neck.

“I will always love you,” he told her softly, lifting his face to stare at her. “Always.”

Marlena touched John’s lips, saying, “Always. Always…always.”

John glanced around them, making sure they were away from prying eyes, and he pulled her into the shadows. Pushing her against her car, he kissed her like a man starved. Marlena opened her mouth to him, and sighed, “Always…”

Rolling his forehead against hers, he said with a choked voice, “I gotta go, baby.” He kissed her one last time, biting at her lip tenderly, and whispered, “I gotta go.” The heat of his body against hers disappeared in an instant, and Marlena felt herself die an emotional death watching him walk away.

It was hours before dawn, but still she crept from her bed to stand near the open window. The air was cooler than it had been over the last few weeks, and the light breeze fluttered across her skin. Marlena’s skin rippled, as she imagined John’s fingers trailing her skin, and she shook her head, trying to rid herself of the thought. She should be trying to come up with a way to escape, but eyes seemed to be watching her constantly. She was surprised there weren’t cameras in her room…maybe there were. Her days had been long, and in many instances, boring.

Mason was not a conversationalist, and he was her only company. Nevis had become surprisingly silent after their first meeting and Marlena was certain that she’d been instructed to stop with the small talk. When Marlena asked Mason questions he gave her the briefest responses, but in her observations of him, she had begun to suspect that he was connected to John. Certain facial expressions, or body movements he made, would trigger a thought or memories of John. If he was connected to him, Marlena was certain he didn’t remember.

Mason was almost certainly one of Stefano’s mindless mercenaries. Having seen several of them in the past few weeks, she felt fairly positive about that assumption. She’d seen John in moments when he seemed to be someone else, with blank features, and blank eyes. After they returned from Mexico, when the codices went on display, she’d seen John switch. Mason seemed to be permanently stuck there. She wasn’t even sure he knew who he was.

The soft cotton lace of her neckline slid through Marlena’s fingers, while she leaned her hip against  the frame of the window, lost in thought. The waxing crescent moon shed little light on the beach below. Everything was left in a dull blue haze. The hard wood floors felt cool on her bare feet. She couldn’t  stop thinking of John. She’d last spoken to him in October. Smiling softly, she remembered it was a Friday…her birthday. He’d called her on her birthday two years in a row. Marlena wiped the tears from her eyes, silently willing herself to stop crying for something she couldn’t change. Losing John was something she’d had enough time to come to terms with, and yet she hadn’t. Because, it was more than losing John. Placing her hand softly on her abdomen, her tears fell harder, and she knew it was much more than that.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Miami, Florida

John sat on the bed of his hotel with an exhausted sigh. He hadn’t slept in nearly twenty-four hours. His flight had left Palermo a day earlier, stopping in Portugal to refuel. He’d flown non-stop from Portugal, landing in Miami less than an hour prior. Glancing at the clock he realized it was nearing 3:00 am. He looked around the room, and tried hard not to think about why he’d chosen this particular hotel. Running his hand through his closely cropped dark hair, he stood up and walked over to the sliding glass doors. It wasn’t the same room, but it was the same hotel he stayed in with Marlena…before San Cristobal, and before Mexico. Stepping into the cool breeze, his gut clenched when he looked down at the beach. His room overlooked where he’d kissed her, where he’d believed he was ready to make a choice, and choose her. The stone wall was still there, the strangler fig as well.

He stared at the strangler fig, looking so similar to the ficus tree in his yard back home. It was one of the reasons he’d selected that house, although he would never admit it to Rebecca, let alone anyone else. The ficus tree had him thinking of Marlena as soon as he’d seen it, and every time since. It made him think of soft skin, perfumed with lavender, and tender lips, soft gasps, and silky hair.

“Shit,” he mumbled, raking his fingers through his hair again. “I’ve got to get some sleep.” He’d get about five hours if he went to sleep within the hour. Pulling a t-shirt and sweatpants from his bag, John went to sit on the edge of the bed. He had a flight chartered to St. Vincent at 9:00 am, and then, hopefully, he could charter a smaller plane or a helicopter to the island of Bequia. From there he would need to find someone willing to boat him over to Ballieceaux in the middle of the night.

The sinking feeling in his gut told him he wouldn’t be leaving Balliceaux with Marlena. It was a trap. He would get there, and chances were – as part of Stefano’s game – he would get to her, but Stefano wasn’t dumb, and John knew he wouldn’t be leaving. Something he had no intention of mentioning to his wife.

Picking up the telephone, he said to the hotel operator, “I need to make an outgoing call to Palermo, Italy…” After a pause he said, “Yes, I’ll accept the charges.” A click and then a dial tone came to his ear, and John was dialing home to check on Rebecca, knowing she hadn’t planned to go to Salem for a few days. He heard her soft voice on the line, and he said softly, “Rebecca…it’s John.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

April 1993

Marlena & Roman Brady Residence

Marlena was sick again, attempting to keep her hair away from her mouth, as she leaned over the toilet, heaving up what was left of her dinner. Even as her empty gut tried to vomit, and nausea rolled through her, Marlena knew there was nothing left. A soft knock sounded on the door, and she heard Sami’s soft voice call, “Mommy? Mommy, I’m scared. Should I call Grandma?”

“No, darling,” Marlena said, struggling to pick herself up from the floor. “Mommy’s fine. I’m just going to take a shower. I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Sami said, still sounding unsure. Eric was downstairs watching Animaniacs for the millionth time, and she was scared. Sinking to the floor outside the bathroom Sami listened as her mother cried softly. Feeling the lost and confused feelings of an eight year old little girl whose whole life had been flipped in the last few years. She was afraid, helpless, and worried.

In the bathroom, Marlena softly cried out, biting the inside of her lip. The cramping was getting more, and more intense, and Marlena’s heart was breaking, while she clung to the bathroom sink.  Gripping her abdomen, she begged and prayed that G-d wouldn’t take this baby from her. She blamed herself. She’d known for weeks that she was pregnant, and the stress of it, the stress of keeping it from Roman, and the guilt that came with it — she felt like that was why she was losing the baby. John’s baby.

Stripping off her clothing, she started the shower when another cramp rocked her body. Roman was on a stake out, and might not be home for days. Feeling stickiness between her thighs, she reached down, and felt the warmth of blood on her fingers. It was too late. Another cramp tore through her as she climbed into the shower, and a large clot, with a small pink mass inside slipped into her palm. Marlena slid to the floor of the shower with a sob, the heated water beating down on her skin, staring at the lost life in her hand, and crying for everything that she had lost. John. A life with John, and their child…gone. Samantha. D.J. She wasn’t sure how much more loss she could bear.

It was another lie to keep. Her affair with John, the pregnancy she had hidden from Roman, and her lost child. Nothing more than a small bundle of unrecognizable cells in her bloody hand, but it was a child she didn’t know how much she wanted, until she lost it.

Outside the bathroom, Sami listened as her mother cried, “John…oh, G-d, how I wish he were here. John…”

Sami wiped the tears from her face, and looked up to see Eric standing in the doorway. “Mommy is sad, but she says I can’t call grandma.”

“What’s she sad about?” he asked softly.

“John,” she said. “I think she’s really sad about John.”

Eric sat beside his sister, taking her hand in his, “I’m sad about him too.”

“I didn’t know we were allowed to be,” Sami whispered.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Baliceaux Island

Marlena curled into the papasan chair, and lightly touched her abdomen, thinking of the child she had lost. No one had ever known, not even John. Marlena had suffered, and continued to suffer the loss alone. That night, after the twins were asleep, Marlena had buried a small wooden box in the roots of the oak tree in the backyard. The same oak tree John had planted nearly seven years earlier when they had married. She felt a sense of comfort knowing she’d buried her child there, wrapped in John’s arms.

“She would have been beautiful,” Marlena whispered to herself, imagining a dark haired, blue eyed baby girl. Hot tears made streaks over her cheeks as Marlena imagined a little girl who looked just like her daddy. 

Chapter 10

Baliceaux Island

Stefano grinned to himself as he disconnected the telephone call. John had moved faster than he’d anticipated. He hadn’t realized that John would figure out Marlena’s location so quickly, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t prepared. Stefano prided himself for always being prepared. He looked to Rolf and Mason, and said, “He’s coming.”

“You’re sure?” Rolf asked.

“Of course I’m sure, you imbecile!” Stefano roared. “My contact on Bequia ensured me that John was connected to the right people. He will be on his way within the hour.”

Rolf was curious, “Do you think he suspects it’s a trap? Does he remember the island?”

Stefano looked at Rolf sharply, wondering if John was getting his memory back, but simply replied, “He may suspect. It will not stop him. Even if John knows it is a trap, he will still come…he will still try to get to Marlena. Knowing that it is potentially a trap will not deter him.”

“How can you be certain?” Mason asked him.

Stefano reached for his glass of Strega, swirling the liquid slowly, “Ah, come now, Mason. You can’t tell me that Marlena’s beauty has escaped you?”

Mason said nothing in response, not fully understanding what Marlena’s beauty had to do with it. Stefano was right, of course. Marlena was quite beautiful, and kind to a fault. As much as Mason tried to keep his distance, and maintain a thick emotional wall with her, she still occasionally enchanted him with her laugh, or the way she would close her eyes when she would face the sea. Almost as if she expected someone to rise from the surf and rescue her, but that didn’t mean he would risk his life for her…unless he was ordered to. Certainly not voluntarily.

Stefano continued, as if Mason had never asked a question, instead telling him, “Be sure the men are watching the beach, but make sure they know, they are not to stop him. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Mason said.

Turning to Rolf, Stefano said, “As soon as we get word, I want the security system on the estate disengaged, and—”

“—but, Stefano! John will surely know it is a trap if there is no alarm!” Rolf exclaimed.

“It doesn’t matter!” Stefano roared. “He won’t turn back. For Marlena, he will risk it all, even himself. As long as he has access to her, he will risk being imprisoned by me, and I will use them both to lure in Roman.” Stefano smiled. He would lure in Roman, but he would toy with him first.

“I don’t understand why we couldn’t simply take Roman Brady?” Mason said. “After all, he is the one you truly want. You have no use for Marlena Brady or John Black.”

“Mason,” Stefano said, swallowing the last dregs of his Strega. “Your job is not to question me. Yes, Roman is essential…but John, he is most certainly essential. Marlena? Collateral damage. I have no use for her, other than to hurt Roman Brady as much as possible.”

“I don’t understand,” Mason said.

“You don’t need to understand,” Stefano replied, watching him closely. “Just make sure the men are in place, and I am notified as soon as John Black’s feet hit my beach.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The room was lit in a fine blue haze of light. It was dark, but not so dark that things around Marlena were indiscernible. She rolled out of bed feeling a buildup of anxiety, and she wasn’t sure why. Reaching for Moby Dick, which she still kept under her pillow to be close to John, she soaked in the feeling of the smooth cool wood beneath her feet as she tread softly towards the papasan chair. The chair, shaped like a cushioned bowl, had quickly become her favorite place to rest. On sleepless nights, she would find herself curled up in it, and her mind would drift off.

It had been at least a month since Stefano had taken her, although she was struggling to keep track of days. Roman should have tracked her down by now, but she wasn’t sure what Stefano was sending Roman. What type of clues he might be receiving. She had only recently learned that Stefano was pulling John into whatever scheme he had concocted. As much as she tried to have faith that Roman would find her, her heart was beating a beat that said John would arrive first, and his arrival would be nothing more than a trap. Stefano had found a way to get his hands on John, by using her to do it.

She curled into herself, opening the book, and read, Man and wife, they say, they open the very bottom of their souls to each other; and some old couples often lie and chat over old times till nearly morning. A smile lit her face. She had pleasant memories of quiet times in bed with John, and Roman, but since Roman’s return, nothing was the same. Roman had been trying for three years to recapture what they had before his disappearance. The twins spending the summer in Colorado was supposed to be their chance to do that, at least in Roman’s mind. Marlena wasn’t unhappy in their marriage. She and Roman were comfortable, they laughed together, they had made a life together, but John stood in their way, either directly or indirectly.

John had left Salem to stop from tearing a rift in her marriage, but it wasn’t enough. Loving him, having loved him, there was no coming back from that. The most she could ever hope for with Roman was a soft, tender love, that was built on friendship and respect. The passion they’d once shared was in the past. The woman she’d been, when she and Roman originally married…she was gone too.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

John swam a quarter mile before he reached the cliff face on the far side of the island. He knew of a cave entrance on that side, that would give him access to tunnels that exited near the beach approximately a mile from the estate. Since his dream nearly a week earlier, more and more memories of the island had begun to surface. John had a feeling that the majority of his mercenary training had occurred there, and possibly even whatever Stefano had done to take his memory away. Baliceaux held more mystery than simply locating Marlena, it held his past.

He located the crevice, clinging with slippery hands, while he gasped deep gulps of air. What limited arm strength he had left after swimming, he used to pull himself up, and into the cave. He fell to the wet floor with a crash, laying there helplessly for several minutes. Every muscle in his body ached when he finally began the long trek underground toward the beach.

Each and every fiber in his body could feel Marlena close by. She was there. She was waiting for him, and whether she knew it or not, she was calling to him. If asked later how he knew, he wouldn’t have an answer, but he felt that she had been waiting for him to arrive for weeks.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dawn was on the horizon, as John made his way through the hidden passages of the estate. The security system was disengaged. A strong feeling told him to turn back, and wait for ISA back-up, which he was certain would be on the way once Rebecca arrived in Salem. He didn’t turn back. Not really understanding how he knew where to go, John followed flashes of images in his mind, and quickly found himself stopping.

His hand slid along the wall, feeling for a catch that he knew was there. Finding it, he released the breath he didn’t know he was holding, with a soft whoosh of air. The panel slid open, and John found himself staring into a room he recognized, a room he had spent years in. The faintest sliver of silver moonlight was cast across the floor. John stepped inside, looking around frantically for Marlena. Her bed was empty, the blankets a rumpled mass cast aside. Stepping further into the room, he turned to glance in the corners, and saw her small form curled into a rounded, softly cushioned chair with a book clasped in her hands.

John took one step towards her, when he heard the soft snick of the panel sliding closed, and a lock turning. He sighed softly. He was trapped, but then, he knew it was likely. As he stared at Marlena, he realized it didn’t matter. Rushing towards her, he crouched down in front of her. Two years since he’d last seen her. Two years since she’d tearfully stroked his jaw, and sobbed as he’d walked away from her. John reached out, his fingers trembling, and he brushed a lose lock of her hair back, so he could stare at her for a moment. Softly, his fingers traced over her face.

Marlena’s eyes fluttered open, staring at John blankly for a moment. She tried to orientate herself to where she was, and who was before her. Softly, she whispered, “John?’

John leaned closer, with a soft smile, “Hey, Doc.”

“John?” she asked again, looking around the room. She struggled to get herself into a sitting position, reaching for him, desperate to touch him. “John?”

“It’s me, Doc. It’s me.”

“Oh, G-d, John!” she cried. Marlena threw herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck, as she cried softly, “I knew you would come. I knew it would be you.”

A soft floral scent came off of her skin, and John breathed deeply, trying to hold her essence in his lungs, but just as quickly as she’d wrapped herself in his arms, she pulled back with a gasp, “Stefano!”

“Shhhh,” John cooed, immediately sensing her fear. “Shhh, baby. Don’t worry about him right now.”

“No! No, John…we have to go. He can’t get to you. We have to get out of here—”

John sighed, burying his face in her hair for a brief moment, before he said, “It’s too late.”

“Too late?” she asked, staring at him, and then she realized what he meant. He had risked his own life, his freedom to get to her, and now there was no way out. “John? No…oh, G-d, John, no! Why did you do that?”

“It’s okay,” he whispered, brushing her hair from her face. “I needed to see you. I need to know you were alive, and I’d rather be with you and know that…then be out there worried about what he might be doing to you.”

“But it’s a trap…you have to know that.”

“I know…I suspected—”

She stared at him, her eyes wide, and filled with tears, “—and you came anyway.”

“Did you doubt that I would?”

Marlena realized he was right. As much as she’d tried to focus on Roman, she’d known it would be John. Softly she whispered, “No. I didn’t doubt you.” She glanced around the room, “How did you get in here? Maybe we can—”

“—no, Doc. I came through a panel in the wall. Someone closed it and locked it from the other side as soon as I stepped inside this room.”

She stared at him, reaching out to touch his neck. The room was starting to brighten with the haze of early dawn. A soft smile came over her face, “I’m so happy to see you.”

John pulled her body into his arms, and whispered, “You don’t know how happy I am to see you…you don’t know.”

But she did. “Tighter,” she whispered. “Hold me tighter.”

His lips inadvertently brushed the soft skin of her neck, as he rubbed his beard scruffed face into her hair. The instant his lips brushed her neck, he didn’t even think. He kissed her softly, and then he kissed her again, and again. John’s lips made their way tenderly up the column of her neck, as Marlena whispered, “Tighter, John. Hold me tighter.”

His kisses began to land on her face, her forehead, her eyes, her jaw, and then his lips were on hers with a soft groan of relief. Gentle kisses, where he remembered the taste of her, and wondered how he could still love her so strongly, after two years apart.

When they parted, John rested his forehead on hers, saying, “Whatever happens, Doc, I’m in it with you.”

She touched his face gently, noticing the fatigue in his eyes, “You’re tired.”

“A little.”

“Come to bed,” she whispered, reaching for his hand. “Lay with me.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mason stood in the corner of Stefano’s study and watched Stefano as he stood before a monitor with a feral grin. On the monitor, Marlena led John by the hand towards her bed, stopping briefly in front of the window that overlooked the beach. Their bodies were outlined with soft early morning light. Enough light, that the outline of Marlena’s shapely curves were visible through the gauzy cotton fabric of her nightgown. John rested his forehead on hers, and murmured something indiscernible. Mason looked away, feeling as if he were intruding on a private moment.

“That’s it!” Stefano cried. Looking at Mason excitedly, he said, “This moment. I want this moment.”

“This moment?”

Smiling broadly, he said triumphantly, “Ah, yes…this is the moment I will send to Roman.”

Chapter 11

Shawn and Caroline Brady Residence

Another package from Stefano arrived the following day at the Brady Pub. If Roman had stopped to consider the why, he might have been curious as to why the clues were being delivered there, and not his own home. He didn’t. He just accepted the package with a blank look on his face, and walked towards where his mother sat at the dining room table.

Caroline knew that Roman was feeling defeated. Marlena’s location had been narrowed down to two islands, but the ISA refused to move without definitive proof that she was on either one or the other. The cost of resources was too much to waste on a hunch. Roman had argued with Shane for days, convinced that Marlena was being held on the island of Mustique, while Bo and Shane were convinced she was on Balliceaux. Analysis of the terrain from the beach photos was currently being analyzed by the forensics team at the ISA, but Roman knew they were losing time by waiting.

“Is it another clue?” Caroline asked him.

“Yeah, Ma,” he replied slowly. “And this one is postmarked from Mustique. I knew I was right. I was right, and Bo and Shane refused to listen. This proves it!”

“Roman,” Caroline said tentatively. “It could be a trick. Why would he postmark it from their location, especially if what we know of Stefano is that he loves to toy with people?”

Walking back towards the table where he had been having lunch with his mother, he stared at the bulky envelope in his hand, unsure of how to respond to her, and then he realized he was probably too late. John had already reached Marlena. Stefano would only want to draw him closer, if John had gotten to her first. He tore open the envelope to find a folded sheet of stationary and a myriad of puzzle pieces. Hastily unfolding the paper, he noted the phoenix at the top, followed by one signature, and the biggest clue of all, “Someone else found her first.” It was signed by a name Roman didn’t recognize, Lorenzo Gallo.

The name wasn’t unfamiliar. He’d seen it on the list of private islands, but Shane had taken the list. “Fuck,” Roman mumbled, pouring the contents of the envelope onto the table.

“Roman!” Caroline exclaimed, surprised at her son’s language.

“Sorry, Ma,” he told her quickly, staring at the puzzle pieces before him. He was almost afraid to put them together, afraid of what he would see if he did.

Caroline reached for the stationary Roman held clenched in his fist, and read over it, and she knew that John had already found Marlena, and most likely he was a prisoner too. Very softly she whispered to her son, “What do you think it is?”

Roman scrubbed his palms over his face roughly, “Hopefully it’s not what I think it is…but it probably is.”

“Do you want to wait, and call the others?” she asked him.

Sinking into the dining room chair across the table from her, he replied, “It won’t change what we both know.”

A sad look came over her face, and she reached for Roman’s hand, “I’ll help you.”

It was nearly 45 minutes later when Caroline placed the last piece of the puzzle into place. Roman had stopped working on it as soon as the main portions of John and Marlena’s bodies were framed out. His face had fallen as he’d stared at the image in front of him. His wife with John, in front of a large, open window, barely lit by the early morning light. Their foreheads rested on each other. Her nightgown was thin, her hair almost glowing in the moonlight. She stared up at John with half-parted lips, while his hands rested on the curve of her waist, and he stared down at her. Their mouths were nearly touching, and it looked compromising.

Caroline had continued until the puzzle was finished, if only to be certain that there weren’t other clues hidden within the image. It was done. It looked like a photo that might grace the cover of an epic romance novel, although she would never say that aloud. “Roman?” she asked him. “Are you okay?”

“John found her,” he said. “But based on this, I don’t think they are free. It was a damned trap, and John fell right into it.”

Caroline didn’t say anything, but she felt strongly that John had known it was a trap, and he’d willingly walked into it. He certainly hadn’t fallen into it, but saying that wouldn’t be useful in the moment, so she remained silent. Instead she said, “Maybe, you should call everybody together?”

“Yeah, Ma,” he replied, standing up to go call Shane. Shane would contact everyone else. Roman didn’t have the energy. The image of Marlena and John was burned into his mind, just the way Stefano had intended. A moment frozen in time, intended to hurt him. And it did. Roman’s heart ached for his wife, and watching her in such an intimate pose with John Black was bringing up a jealousy he’d thought long gone.

As soon as he heard Shane’s voice over the line, Roman said, “Something’s happened. Can you get everyone over to the pub? And can you bring that list of private islands with you…I think we have a name, Lorenzo Gallo…”

Carrie slowly opened the door to her grandparents house, intent on surprising them with her early return home from Colorado. What she found was her grandmother and her father, both looking beleaguered. Roman looked up quickly, surprised to see her, “Carrie! I wasn’t expecting you until next week!”

“I wanted to get some things in order before I started school, Dad,” she told him. “After all, it’s my freshman year of college.”

“What about Eric and Sami?”

Carrie laughed, “They were glad to see me go. Practically pushed me out the door.” Looking around she asked, “Where’s Marlena?” Her gaze landed on the table in front of her, and her eyes zeroed in on the puzzle sitting there. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Caroline said quickly. “Why don’t you go into the pub and find your grandpa.”

Stepping towards the table, Carrie said, “No…no…what is going on?”

“Carrie, honey,” Roman started to say, stepping in front of her. “It doesn’t concern you.”

But it was too late, Carrie had seen the puzzle on the table, and recognized Marlena and John. Looking at Roman fiercely, she pushed her way around him, staring down at the image before her. “Don’t lie to me. I’m not a child.”

Caroline said, “Carrie, there’s a lot you don’t know—”

“—then tell me!” Carrie shouted, feeling that same sense of helplessness she’d felt as a child rise up inside her chest like a vice. “Tell me! But don’t lie to me!”

Roman knew she was upset, but he’d never been able to see past her being a little girl. Even if she was getting ready to start college, after a two year gap after high school, he still saw her as a child. He wanted to keep the nastiness of the world away from her. “Listen, honey, we have a situation we’re dealing with. Marlena was kidnapped from a conference in Oklahoma City—”

“—by Stefano?” she asked breathlessly.

Roman looked at her sharply, “Why would you say that?”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” she asked him, feeling her breath start to come in rapid pants. Images of her time with Stefano, and the fear she’d felt, came to her as if it was happening in the moment.

Roman sighed, becoming worried for her, “Carrie—”

“I know it’s Stefano,” she said, crying. “No one else would take Marlena and John. No one but him! I knew he wasn’t dead! He—he took me once, just to…just to play games with Daddy! He made him believe Marlena was alive, and then he—he took her away again!”

Caroline wrapped her granddaughter in her arms, and she said, “We’re going to find them. That’s what we’ve been trying to do.”

“How long?” Carrie demanded staring at Roman with tear filled eyes. “How long have they been gone?”

“Marlena…about a month…”

“A month? Why didn’t you tell me? I have a right to know? And…and John, too!”

“We didn’t know about John until right before you walked in,” Caroline said gently. “But now we think—”

“—Stefano has him, too.”

Roman remembered that Bo had mentioned nearly a month earlier that Carrie had once been kidnapped by Stefano. He should have asked about it, or gotten more information, but it had slipped his mind, because of the search for Marlena. Now he was realizing that there were seven years of his daughter’s life that he knew nothing about. “We’re going to find her,” he said softly. “I won’t give up until we find her.”

Carrie picked up the crumpled stationary lying on the table, and read, “Someone else found her first…” Looking at Roman, she said, “It’s always a game with him…he—he tricked John when he kidnapped me. He had a woman who looked like Marlena, and it nearly drove him mad.” Carrie started crying again, leaning against the back of a kitchen chair. “And then…he let Daddy see her, and he realized it wasn’t Marlena. It was all a trick, but…she was alive and we didn’t know.”

Roman stared at his daughter in dawning horror, “That’s why…that’s why John went after her on his own this time?”

Caroline wiped a tear from her eye, and whispered, “It was an awful time for us, Roman. The whole family…but especially John. He’d hoped…he had so much hope that she might have been alive, only to find out Stefano was messing with his mind—”

“—but he wasn’t, Ma! She was alive, and maybe if John had tried just a little harder, he might have found her soon—”

“Shut up!” Carrie screamed. “You weren’t there! You don’t know how much that hurt him!”

Unsure of how to respond, Roman simply stared at his daughter in a state of shock and disbelief, “I didn’t know…”

“You didn’t ask,” Carrie said with accusation in her voice.

“You could have told me…”

“When? You made it very clear that the past was something you wanted to leave in the past.” She wiped at her face harshly, and stared down at the puzzle on the table. Sinking into a chair, she studied the way John and Marlena stood together, and the way the light played over their silhouettes. Touching their faces, she whispered, “He found her this time, because he wouldn’t let Stefano fool him again. Not after the last time.”

Roman sat beside his daughter, touching her hand softly. “How old were you?”

“Twelve,” she whispered. “He took me to an island in the Caribbean…Balliceaux, I thi—”

“—Balliceaux? Are you sure?” Roman asked.

“I—I think so.”

“Shane and Bo think that’s where Stefano took Doc.”

“Daddy…I mean, John has been there before, when he rescued me…but that was when he had the hypnotic trigger…the pagoda, and maybe he doesn’t remember it exactly…maybe it was confusing to him…”

Roman sneered, “Well, judging from Stefano’s note and the photo in front of us, he wasn’t too confused.”

Carrie glanced between her grandmother and her father in fear, finally saying, “And now Stefano has them both.”

“We’ll find Marlena, Carrie. I promise,” Roman told her.

“And what about John?”

Roman didn’t give a damn about John, but because the rest of his family loved the man so much, he told her, “And John, too. I promise.”

Chapter 12

The Brady Pub

    After dropping her bags at the home of Victor Kiriakis, Rebecca made her way across town to the Brady Pub, once she realized that Roman was not at his home. It was late, just minutes before closing time, when she entered the pub. The room, which was filled with people she knew, but hadn’t seen in years, grew silent as the bell on the door rang upon her entrance. Unsure of what to do, or say, Rebecca took a deep breath, and said quickly, “I need to speak with Roman…it’s about John.”

    Roman stepped forward, confused as to why Rebecca Morrison would suddenly appear, to speak to him about John. “John? I don’t understand.”

    Rebecca sighed. She’d forgotten that John hadn’t maintained contact with anyone but Carrie. She briefly made eye contact with the girl before she said to Roman, “Yes, John. My husband. The one who ran off to some island called Baliceaux, in the Caribbean, to rescue your wife.”

    Everyone in the room exchanged glances of surprise, except for Carrie. Carrie kept her eyes averted, and Kim noticed that she didn’t seem surprised in the least about Rebecca’s marriage announcement, which meant that as soon as Kim could get her niece alone, she had some questions.

    Shane stepped forward, “You’re certain it was Baliceaux?”

    “Yes,” Rebecca said, staring at the dark haired man before her. “And you are?”

    “Shane Donovan,” he said, holding his hand out towards her. “I work with the ISA. I think we need to talk.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Isla Tortuga, Mexico

    Marlena was lost in the warmth of being wrapped in John’s arms. Stuck between sleep and waking, she was disoriented when she felt herself being jostled, and the comfort she’d felt in the heat of his body was suddenly gone. She heard a sharp grunt, and her eyes fluttered open in time to see John’s body fall limply to the floor of the airplane cabin. Marlena shrieked, scrambling to get to him, only to find herself restrained by Mason.

    Stefano DiMera looked at the woman struggling in Mason’s arms with a sick sort of glee. Catching them off guard was exactly what he’d hoped for. Injecting John with a sedative while they slept, meant that the man barely had time to realize what was happening before the drugs took effect. As soon as the plane began its descent, Stefano had put his plan into motion. With a smug click of his tongue he said, “Marlena, Marlena. John is fine.”

    “He’s not fine!” she yelled. “What did you do to him?”

    Stefano nodded his head quickly to two men who seemed to manifest from nowhere. Just as the plane hit the ground, they lifted John’s prone form, and started to drag him towards the front of the aircraft.

    “No! No!” Marlena screamed, still trying to free herself from Mason’s vice-like hold. “No! Stefano! Please! Don’t take him from me!”

    Stefano eyed her for a moment, struck by the beauty he found in her tear streaked face. There was always something poetically beautiful in a woman who cried and begged. Almost as if he were bored, Stefano told her, “I have plans for John, Marlena. I have always had plans for him, and I have put them off for entirely too long.” The plane came to a stop. Glancing at Mason he said without feeling, “Take her to her quarters. I can’t handle her incessant wailing.”

    “Yes, sir,” Mason replied. Tightening the grip, he held onto Marlena’s upper arm, and he began to pull her out of the cabin towards the steps to disembark the aircraft.

    “Where are we?” she demanded. Wherever they were, it was tropical. Palm trees swayed in the dark night, and she could smell the rich scent of flowers on the breeze. They were on a private runway, which meant another private island.

    Mason said quietly, so only Marlena would hear him, “You ask too many questions.”

    Jerking her arm in an attempt to get away, she said furiously, “You let that man own you! Why would it matter if I knew where we were? I can’t get away, and I wouldn’t leave without John!”

    Mason kept walking, tugging her along, but he finally said, “Isla Tortuga.” He didn’t want to feel moved by her pleas, and he certainly didn’t enjoy the fact that he was starting to feel a twinge of something. He couldn’t yet admit that to himself, instead pushing the desire to protect her down into the deepest parts of his emotional center. He didn’t care about her. He didn’t care about anyone, although…he felt strongly that at one time in his life, he had.

    Marlena felt his hesitation, and pushed him a little further. “Mexico? Where?”

    “The Gulf of California,” he said with a sigh. “Now shut up.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Shawn and Caroline Brady Residence

    The puzzle had been glued together, and sat on the Brady dining table where it had been for two days. Rebecca stared at the photo in front of her with her heart breaking, but outwardly, she showed no signs of upset. Roman stared at her, wanting a reaction, wanting to know that maybe she was just as devastated as he was, but he couldn’t tell. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he would wish the same level of uncertainty, and frustration on anyone else. Quietly, he said, “This was another package that arrived two days ago. We were leaning towards Balliceaux as a possible location, but the ISA won’t move on it without solid proof. With what Carrie told us, and now, what you’ve said, we’re probably going to make a move tomorrow.”

    Rebecca looked at him sharply, “How can you be sure they’re still there? I mean, with everything I’ve learned about Stefano DiMera, it’s fairly certain he’s playing games with you. Why else would he send packages and clues intending to lure you in, and cause emotional chaos?”

    “We can only hope he hasn’t moved them yet.”

    Rebecca sighed, “John knew it was a trap from the beginning. He went anyway.” Roman stared at her, saying nothing, and Rebecca continued, “He was restless from the beginning. Easily agitated. He started having nightmares, and I would wake to find him wandering through the ficus tree in the backyard in the middle of the night. I could tell something wasn’t right, but he consistently reassured me that he was fine. But he wasn’t. He was planning this, and he knew…he knew, he wouldn’t be coming home, and he went anyway.”

    She wiped an escaped tear from her face quickly, angry at herself for showing any type of vulnerability. Straightening her back, she looked Roman in the eyes, and she said firmly, “I want updates on the progress, and any new information.”

    “I can do that,” he told her. Where he’d been wishing the same pain on her only moments prior, Roman felt himself softening. He’d never really gotten along with Rebecca. She was stubborn, and cut throat in the courtroom. She’d tried her damnedest to convict Kimberly of murder just a few years before, but right then, he could empathize. Looking down at the puzzle, he felt the pain again that came with looking at a photo of your spouse locked in such an intimate moment with someone who wasn’t you.

    Rebecca looked at Roman a moment longer, and said, “Don’t try to protect me. I don’t need it, and I won’t accept it.”

    “I understand,” he said. “I understand.” And, just like that, he was left with a begrudging mutual respect for Rebecca Morrison Black.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Isla Tortuga, Mexico

    It was hours later, when the door to Marlena’s suite was unlocked and thrown open by the same men who had taken John off of the plane. She was wide awake, refusing to sleep, and curled into a chair in the corner. They hauled John’s limp body into the room, dropping him unceremoniously onto the bed, and then left without a word. Marlena didn’t hear the latch on her door lock into place. Even as the silence of the room surrounded her, her blood rushed in her veins, creating a dull roar in her ears, as she looked John over.

    A soft sob tore itself from her throat, as she gazed over his bruised face. Her fingers tenderly touched a cut near the corner of his eye. In a panic, she started to tear at the buttons of his shirt, pushing it wide, and another sob caught in her throat. Fresh bruises were forming along his ribs, and Marlena started palpating along his skin gently, trying to gauge if anything was broken.

    “Oh, G-d…what did he do to you?” she whispered. John moaned deeply in pain. “John?” she asked. “John, honey, open your eyes for me. Open your eyes for me…it’s Marlena.”

    “Doc?” he groaned. “Doc…where are we?”

    “Mexico,” she said softly, running her fingers over his face softly.

    “Mexico?” He blinked at her, trying to look around, but everything was hazy, and his head was pulsing. “Mexico…” John was confused, unaware of time or place. Reaching for Marlena, he said in slurred words, “I love you…I love you…but, I’m not Roman. I’m not Roman…and Isabella…oh, G-d…Isabella’s pregnant…”

    He was confused, which meant that Stefano had drugged him. “John,” Marlena breathed softly. “Rest. Just rest.”

    How could he pick Isabella when he wanted to be with Marlena? He groaned, “I don’t know what to do, Doc. What should I do?”

    Marlena felt the pain of that time in their lives coming back up, and wiped at her eyes quickly. “John—John, come on, lift yourself up, and scoot to the top of the bed.”

    “Are you staying with me?” he asked groggily. “Please don’t leave me, baby. I want you. I want you.”

    Wiping at her eyes again, feeling his confusion, she whispered, “Scoot up, honey.” She couldn’t ponder where he was in his mind at that moment. All she could do was make sure that John was safe, and comfortable, while waiting for whatever drug Stefano gave him to leave his system.

    John stared up at Marlena, suddenly remembering that Isabella was gone. He choked out, “Isabella…Isabella’s gone…”

    Marlena’s heart broke for him all over again, “She is.”

    “My baby…my son…” John sobbed softly. Memories of that time flooded his mind, and he struggled to hang onto them, his mind grasping at threads. “I—I need to remember. Doc!” he cried in panic, feeling them slip away. “I can’t forget again. I can’t forget!”

    Marlena laid her body down next to him, and placed her lips near his ear, whispering, “I won’t let you forget. I promise.”

    “Tell me…” he begged her. “Tell me.”

    Marlena’s mind went back to that dreadful day, and she knew she wouldn’t tell him. She wouldn’t remind him of the pain, not in his weakened state. The day Isabella, near death herself, gave birth to a stillborn Brady Black…

    John’s face was red, and his eyes were swollen with what could only be described as an overwhelming mix of physical and emotional pain. He entered the waiting room at University Hospital intent on finding comfort with the only person he could imagine would understand. In a room full of people, his dark indigo eyes locked with Marlena’s, and he headed straight for her. He didn’t hear the questions from the people around him. He didn’t acknowledge the tears of family and friends. Without words, Marlena knew what he wanted, what he needed, and she met him halfway. He fell into her arms, burying his face in her hair, and Marlena’s soft whispers in his ear were his only saving grace, “John I’m here…I’m here for you, honey.”

    “He’s gone. So small, Doc…” he sobbed. “So fucking tiny—he didn’t…he didn’t even have a chance. He didn’t even take a breath.”

    “Oh, John, darling…I’m here. I’m here,” she whispered.

    As Marlena comforted John, it was obvious to those around them that the moment was private, too intimate to interrupt. Neither one of them were aware that Roman watched them closely, cognizant of every soft touch, and every gentle whisper.

    Marlena kissed John’s forehead softly, “It’s painful. I know it’s painful. You should rest now.”

    With drug glazed eyes, and his mind whirling, John said, “I kissed you…I did kiss you…after Isabella died…I—”

    “—shhhh…it doesn’t matter.”

    “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, slightly confused as his memories jumbled in his thoughts.

    “No one knew,” she whispered. “I never told Roman. No one but you and I know, and you…you needed comfort.”

    “I needed you, Doc…I always need you,” he said so faintly she could barely hear him.

    “John…just rest. Close your eyes.” She sighed as he rolled towards her, burying his face in her soft blonde hair. They hadn’t kissed or even spoken about the kiss three days prior, but having him so close to her made her crave more, and that was dangerous territory. Marlena stared at the mosquito net canopy of the four poster bed for a long time after John’s breathing evened out. She remembered the night he was talking about. He’d isolated himself after losing Brady and Isabella. She had tried to reach out to him, and Caroline was concerned. Without telling Roman, she went to the loft. She hadn’t thought about it in years. When she did, it was with guilt and shame because of the intense way she’d reacted.

    John slid the loft door open, staring blankly at Marlena with drunken eyes. She was beautiful. Soft blonde waves sat on her bare shoulders, and she wore a soft floral dress.

    “Can I come in?” she asked him softly.

    “Yeah, Doc,” he replied quietly, stepping back to allow room for her to enter. “Do you want something to drink?” he asked her, going over to the small kitchen area, and pouring himself another shot of whiskey.

    Marlena could smell the alcohol. Stepping closer she asked, “How much have you had to drink, John?”

    He smiled at her in that boyish way he had, that would melt her instantly, “I can’t remember.” Lifting the bottle, he sloshed the liquid around, staring at it with a confused look, and finally said, “A few.”

    She wrapped her soft hands around his, and took the bottle from his hand, “Maybe that should be the last one.”

    He stared at her for a long moment, and then conceded, “Yeah, sure.”

    Marlena watched as he tossed the drink back, swallowing thickly. On unsteady feet, he walked towards the couch, saying, “So, how’ve you been, Doc?”

    “I’m fine, John…but, you know, that’s not why I’m here. Do you want to talk about it?” The loft was in disarray, with clothing strewn about, and discarded take-out containers scattered over the coffee table. The kitchen counter had an old pizza box on it, and Marlena noticed a faint sour smell in the air, as if the garbage needed to be taken out.

    “What’s there to talk about? My son is dead. My wife is dead. I’m back to where I was…alone.”

    “You’re not alone.”

    John scoffed drunkenly, “Ah, c’mon, Doc! I’m alone.”

    “You’ve got me,” she said softly.

    “Nah,” he said, falling onto the corner of the overstuffed couch. “Nah, Doc, Roman’s got you, and the kids, and I’ve got—I’ve got nothin’.”

    Marlena sat beside him, reaching for his hands, “I’m here for you now. I’ll always be here for you…please, tell me you know that.”

    He got lost in her mossy hazel eyes, and then he looked away quickly, saying softly, “Yeah, Doc…yeah, I know that.”

    But she could tell he didn’t believe it. He had pinned his hopes for a fresh start on Isabella and the baby, and he’d lost both of them in less than a year. Moving closer to him, she allowed him to feel her presence nearby, and she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. “John,” she whispered. “I’m here for you.”

    Glancing down at her, his arms hung limply in his lap. He’d never felt so alone, or so lost in his life. Even when he’d first met her, and had no recollection of who he was, he’d never felt this type of pain. This searing, burning pain that wouldn’t let up. Marlena lifted her face to look at him, and she brought him closer, whispering, “Come here.”

    With one softly spoken phrase from her lips, he was lost. With a wracking sob, his arms wrapped themselves around her hips, pulling her body against his roughly. John’s beard scruffed face buried in her hair, and Marlena could feel his hot tears rolling down the column of her neck and into her blouse.

    Falling back into the corner of the couch, John lifted her, bringing her with him. He couldn’t let her go. Every emotion he’d had over the last week since Isabella’s death, and the two weeks since his son’s death, every emotion he’d pushed below the surface while he planned his wife’s burial…all of it, came rushing out.

    Marlena felt every sob, every ripple of his muscles, and every clench of his fingers in the fabric of her clothes. She felt his pain, and she allowed him his pain. She couldn’t have said how much time had gone by, although, by the time John’s breathing evened out, she noticed that the sun was lower in the sky. Softly caressing his neck, Marlena whispered, “I’m sorry, John. I’m so sorry.”

    John lifted his liquid blue eyes to hers, and he reached out, wiping tears she didn’t know she’d shed from her cheeks. She wasn’t sure what changed. One moment, his thumb was slowly moving over her cheek, and the next he grunted, and his mouth was on hers, claiming her with a forcefulness born of agony. He tasted of the past, and strong whiskey. The smoky flavor of alcohol assaulted her senses, and she knew she should pull away. But she didn’t.

    He knew he should stop, but he didn’t. Instead he leaned further back, pulling Marlena into his lap. With a deep groan, he bit at her mouth, wanting to disappear into the memories he had with her, where pain, and sadness, and loss didn’t exist. He kissed her until his body screamed for air, until both of their mouths were swollen, and puffy, and then he bit her neck, and rested his face against her soft skin, breathing deeply of her hair. Lilacs and lavender…he wanted to fall into her and forget the pain.

    They didn’t speak for a long time, until finally, John, feeling more sober, whispered, “I’m sorry, Doc. I shouldn’t have done that.”

    Quietly, she whispered back, “I—I won’t tell anyone.”

    “I know.”

    Marlena held John’s head against her chest as he slept in her arms, and she whispered to herself, “I have to figure this out…because, I don’t think I could survive if…”

    His eyes fluttered, the lashes brushing the soft skin of her neck, and he mumbled with a voice rough with sleep, “Shhh…Doc, it’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll be fine…”

    He went silent again. Marlena curled into him, placing her small palm on his chest. Focusing on the beat of his heart, she drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 13

Isla Tortuga, Mexico

Rolf stood warily, waiting for the explosion he was sure would come from Stefano. Stefano stood up from his desk, and walked towards the window overlooking the cliff face, and the ocean below, and he said slowly, “The drugs had no effect then?”

“They did,” Rolf replied carefully, “Temporarily. But, by this morning he seemed to have regained his memories.”

“Why didn’t it work?” Stefano demanded. “You said if the microchip was activated, and the drugs were introduced, he would revert back to pre-1985.”

“Yes, he should have, but I think the microchip—”

“—don’t tell me it will work, Rolf, if it might not work!” Stefano roared, turning to face the cowering scientist standing on the other side of his huge polished desk.

Rolf attempted to make himself smaller as Stefano hurled a small marble statue towards the fireplace. “Stefano! It should have worked! I think the microchip may need to be replaced, or maybe, the connections came loose, or the—”

“—well, figure it out, you imbecile! I’m tired of waiting! I want my Pawn back!”

“I can remove the chip, and possibly insert a new one,” Rolf said, thinking aloud to himself.

“Do it,” Stefano replied, pouring himself a small glass of Strega.

Rolf knew it would be dangerous. The surgery could potentially kill John, but he wasn’t willing to risk Stefano’s wrath. “He will need to be brought to my lab. I will need to do scans first.”

“Done,” Stefano said with a careless wave of his hand. “I’ll have Dante and Anthony bring him down later.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Every corner, and every crease in the wall had been investigated by John, and he was certain there was no way out besides the door, which was solidly locked. He didn’t doubt that the house was full of tunnels and secret passages, all he knew was that none of them led to the room he and Marlena were currently locked in. Their room sat on a corner with one window overlooking a sheer cliff face that dropped into the ocean. On the other side there were two large windows, and there was nothing there but rainforest. They would not be escaping through the windows, which Stefano had conveniently secured with thick, ornate, wrought iron bars. Their room was a prison cell.

By mid-afternoon, Marlena had fallen asleep in the middle of the large bed. She’d been up half the night with him, as his body fought hallucinations, and whatever drug he’d been injected with, worked its way out of his bloodstream.

Walking over to the bed, John softly moved a section of her hair from her face, exposing the soft skin of her cheek to him. He ran the back of his index finger along her jaw, and thought about how beautiful she was. It was more than beauty though. He’d seen many beautiful women in his life, but Marlena glowed with it. She illuminated a room with a quality that he wouldn’t be able to describe, but it elevated her above the rest. He was willing to do anything for her. He would die for her.

The lock in the door turned, causing John to face it and see who was there. Rage boiled up inside him when his eyes met Anthony’s. The man had beat him until he was unconscious the evening before. “You here to beat on me some more?” John asked sarcastically.

Dante stepped around Anthony, and glanced at Marlena on the bed, “You don’t have to fight us, John. You could come quietly, and leave her sleeping on the bed.”

John looked at Marlena again, remembering her cries as he lost consciousness the night before on the plane. He leaned near her, and whispered softly, “I’ll be back, Doc. I promise.”

Anthony sneered, “Don’t make promises you might not keep.”

Ignoring Anthony, he said to Dante, “Let’s go.”

Mason stood outside the room. As John exited, their eyes met and locked. Eyes of identical color, and black hair of identical shade, and Mason felt something. He found that questioning strange or odd emotions never got him far, so he pushed it down. He admired John Black. The man would die defending Marlena, and Mason could say in his time with Stefano, John was the only honorable, truly honorable, man he’d ever met.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Salem, USA

Carrie looked at Kim with a huge smile on her face, and she gushed, “For me? I can stay here, and you’re not going to charge me rent?”

Kim laughed, “I won’t charge you rent. I lived here years ago…John even lived here for a while when he first came to Salem. It’s small, and it’s not much, but it’s yours.”

“John lived here?” she asked, glancing around. It wasn’t a huge apartment. One bedroom with a small kitchen and living area. The bathroom was functional, and clean. It was in a nice neighborhood, and had updated features. Carrie thought about Roman, “Dad’s not going to like it.”

“Your Dad needs to come to terms with the fact that you’re going to turn twenty-one in October,” Kim said. “So, do you want it?”

Carrie ran towards her aunt, throwing herself into her arms with a laugh, “I do! I do! I’m so excited! The house is crowded, and sharing a room with Sami is the worst!”

Kim held Carrie in her arms for a moment, and then slowly she pulled back, and she looked her in the eye, “Now…we need to talk.”

Knowing it was coming, Carrie had prepared herself for the inevitability of the forthcoming conversation. Kim could read people almost as well as Marlena, and when Carrie’s eyes had caught hers the day before in the pub, Carrie had known there was no avoiding it. Sighing, she dropped her arms, and whispered, “About John?”

“Yes. About John. Yesterday, when Rebecca Morrison showed up and told everyone she was John’s wife…everyone was surprised,” Kim said. Then, more slowly, she said, “But not you. You weren’t surprised. As far as I knew no one had contact with John while he was gone.”

Carrie looked at her feet, and then fell onto the couch, “I did…but I kept it a secret. I would tell him about everyone and keep him up to date. He missed Sami and Eric. I still feel like he’s my dad.”

“I’m not angry,” Kim told her kindly, sinking into the soft sofa beside her. “I was just surprised. No one knew. You could have said something.”

“When Dad came back, and I found out that John wasn’t my father, I felt like I wanted to scream, and cry. It wasn’t fair…it’s still not fair, and Dad…Dad wanted us to forget. He doesn’t want to hear about the time he was gone. So, if there’s a funny story about when Sami lost her tooth and accidentally swallowed it when she ate a corn dog, and John is part of the story, he doesn’t even want to listen,” Carrie said quietly. “How can he be our father, and refuse to know us?”

“Roman can be stubborn—”

“—stubborn doesn’t mean you don’t care!”

Kim pulled Carrie into her arms, whispering, “You’re right. He should make an effort to know all of you, not just the parts he wants to know.”

“John left Salem, and I—I wasn’t able to meet him for coffee before school anymore, or eat pancakes at the diner over on Elm street. So, I went to Victor, and he told me how to contact him.”

Kim smiled, “You always were a resourceful girl.”

Pain laced Carrie’s voice, “I couldn’t imagine my life without him, his advice, his dumb jokes, the sound of his voice…he’s my dad. I can love them both…John said it. I can love them both, but Dad, he doesn’t see it that way at all.”

“Roman knows that,” Kim said softly. “Losing seven years of his life…coming home to find everything different, that was difficult for him.”

“What about us?” Carrie asked. “Me, Sami…Eric? No one thought about how it affected us. We were just expected to accept it. John was all we’d known for years, and one day Dad just forced him out. Sami will never be the same, you know. She’s so angry, Kim. She thinks John abandoned us, and Eric is so sad.”

“Have you said anything to Roman, or Marlena?”

“Dad just says they’ll adjust.”

“And Marlena?” Kim asked. Carrie was silent, unwilling to say anything, and Kim said, “Whatever you tell me Carrie, I won’t repeat. I promise.”

“Marlena was more broken when John left, than we were. She told Dad she had the flu, but really…really, she couldn’t live without John. She was depressed, and then she buried herself in her work, and…well, you remember how she used to be. She doesn’t laugh anymore, not like she used to…and…never mind.”

“Carrie?”

“I don’t know if I can tell you,” Carrie said with tears in her eyes. “It’s so private…it’s…her secret, not mine.” She sighed, staring into her aunt’s face, and she saw that she could trust her. “I came home late one night. A few months after John left. Dad was on a stakeout, and the twinners were asleep, but I couldn’t find Marlena. I went into the bedroom, and there was—there was a bloody nightgown on the floor, and blood smeared on the toilet, and the sink. I got scared, and I ran downstairs…Marlena was in the back yard, on the ground by the tree…she was sobbing, crying as if she had just lost the most precious thing in her life.”

Kim was quiet, absorbing what Carrie was telling her. Softly, she asked her, “What happened?”

“I don’t know…it seemed so private, and so sad. I never asked, but I went out there later, and I found a mound of dirt. I know, I shouldn’t have, but I dug it up.” Carrie started crying heavily, looking down at her hands. “It was a baby. The tiniest baby I’ve ever seen, and I felt like I’d done something so wrong by digging it up. I buried it again, as carefully as I could, and I went to confession the following morning, and everyday after for almost a month.”

“Marlena had a miscarriage?”

“But, she never said anything. She told dad she was sick again. He made some ignorant comment like ‘weren’t you just sick?‘ She didn’t tell him what happened, and I think…” Carrie’s voice drifted off, unable to voice what she had believed for nearly two and a half years.

Kim asked her, “You believe it was John’s child?” Carrie fell into Kim’s gentle arms, and continued to cry while nodding her head. “Carrie, honey, you were barely eighteen. Too young to bear this alone.”

“I tried to help Marlena…to be there for her, and help with the twinners, but she never told dad. But—but she buried that baby under John’s tree. The tree he planted when they were married. A new start, he said.” Carrie’s words came out choked with emotion, “Neither one of them have been the same. John left, and when I talk to him, I hear the sadness. He married Rebecca to stop himself from coming back here, because he loves Marlena that much.”

Kim thought about Marlena over the last three years, and she could admit to herself that she carried herself with an air of grief. Even as Marlena went through the motions of life, if one cared to pay attention, her aura carried in it the color of loss. If what Carrie was saying was true, she’d lost John, and their baby within months, and she suffered through it alone.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Isla Tortuga, Mexico

The pounding on Marlena’s door grew more insistent, to the point that Mason could no longer ignore the cries coming from the other side. Opening the heavy polished wood, he stared down at Marlena’s tear streaked face, and he said, “What?”

“Where is he?” she demanded. She just woken from her nap to find herself alone in the room.

“He will be brought back, just like last night,” he replied.

“Will he be drugged and beaten like last night?”

“I don’t have any control over that. He must have fought them.”

“Wouldn’t you?” she cried. “If someone stole your family, tortured you, drugged you…beat you? Wouldn’t you fight back?”

Mason was quiet as a memory flashed in his mind. A teenage boy being pulled from his arms, screaming papi. In the twenty-five years he’d worked for Stefano DiMera, he never once had any memories. His gut clenched, and his eyes widened fractionally. A boy with the bluest eyes, and deep black hair.

Marlena saw the change in him. Resting her hand lightly on his arm, she whispered, “I love him. I can’t bear the thought of someone hurting him. Please! I need to know if he’s okay.”

Mason shook her arm off, just as he shook off the empathy pulling at him. “He’ll be back. I don’t know when, but Stefano has plans for him. He won’t be killed.” With one palm against her shoulder, he pushed her gently back inside the room. He couldn’t think too hard about how the sight of her collapsing and sobbing on the floor affected him. He couldn’t think about that at all.

Chapter 14

Isla Tortuga, Mexico

It was nearly midnight, when Marlena’s sleeping body twitched on the bed, caught in a dream. She rolled to her side, reaching out naturally to John for comfort, only to slowly wake, upon the realization that he wasn’t there. He’d never come back. Her sleep dazed eyes stared at the pillow beside her, feeling an ache she hadn’t felt in years. Barely four days together, and she expected to feel him beside her when she woke. Marlena rolled onto her back, as a tear slipped from her eye. She wiped at it quickly, and thought about John, and her dream.

After Isabella’s death, John had kissed her. She’d left his loft that day, and the two of them hadn’t mentioned it again, until John kissed her in a dark corner of the hallway leading into the Brady house at the pub after Isabella’s funeral a week later…

Both of them were taking stuttered breaths, and John leaned in, intent on kissing her again. Their lips shined with moistness, and John’s eyes stared at Marlena’s swollen mouth. She placed her palm on John’s chest, looking quickly around them, hoping they hadn’t been seen. “John,” she whispered. “You’re hurting inside. I can feel it, and you want a connection, a way to forget the pain. I want to be there for you, to support you…but we can’t do this again. It can’t happen again.”

John was silent, saying nothing. Tears welled in his eyes, and he felt his nose start to run the way it usually did when he started to cry. He looked away, wiping at it carelessly with the back of his hand. Marlena was right, of course. He was adrift in a sea of complicated emotions, and he viewed her as a safe harbor. She would never hurt him, and she would never turn him away. He knew he was using her to escape the pain.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m so confused, and I feel so guilty. I just—I want to fall into you, and forget. I want your softness, and your scent. At one time…you were my best friend.”

“Oh, honey,” she said, reaching for his jaw. Her fingers trailed over his hot skin. Since he’d kissed her at the loft, she’d dreamt of him nearly every night. His lips on hers had reawakened feelings she thought were in the past. As much as his kisses inflamed her, she couldn’t go down this road with him. He would regret it later…although she wasn’t sure about herself. “I can comfort you. I can be your friend, but we can’t—”

“—I know,” he told her. “I won’t kiss you again. Can I just—can I hold you for a moment?”

Without thought or consideration, she did what came most naturally with John, and she stepped into his arms, and even as she told herself to stop, her fingers threaded into the hair at the nape of his neck, and she pulled his face into her fragrant hair. His lips settled on her neck, placing one soft kiss on her skin. Marlena’s lips parted, and she whispered, “John…”

He kissed her neck softly, and rested against her, until they pulled apart, at the sound of Carrie’s soft voice, “Marlena? Dad is looking for you…”

Sitting up, she said into the empty room, “I can’t keep doing this to myself. I can’t keep replaying the past. It doesn’t change anything.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Baliceaux Island

Roman slammed the papasan chair to the floor, toppling the bowl, and hurling the cushion to the side. “Fucking hell!” he roared. All around him were scattered photographs, both recent and older, although he’d never seen any of them. His breath caught in his chest as he was confronted with images of Marlena’s marriage to John, when everyone believed he was Roman. Photos of Marlena and John at Brady family functions. A photo of Carrie and John with a Father’s Day gift that said, World’s Best Daddy. Photos of birthday parties, and candids of intimate moments captured between the two of them. A quiet moment in a room full of family, or a kiss under the mistletoe.

Bo heard the destruction as he ran the length of the hallway. Entering the room he saw the memories scattered across the floor and every available surface. Not a few photos, but hundreds of them, across the floor, over the bed, and taped to the walls. He walked towards Roman, and happened to glance down as he passed the bed. He stopped suddenly, gingerly lifting a photo to stare at the glossy image before him. A recent photo.

In the photograph, Marlena’s body was curled into the chair that Roman had just hurled across the room. John kneeled before her, his hands buried in her thick, blonde tresses. The photo was deep in shadows, but the moon cast enough light to illuminate them. Both of them lost in each other, their mouths desperately clinging. Glancing at Roman, Bo quickly tucked the photo under a pillow, hoping his brother would never see it.

Roman looked up, realizing that his Bo was in the room. His eyes were lit with a mixture of hatred and helplessness. “He left me a gift,” he said sarcastically, referring to Stefano. “Photos of my wife with John when the world called him by my name. Photos of him kissing her, marrying her…raising my children.”

“Roman,” Bo said carefully. “She chose you…I mean, in Mexico, when we were there…once we realized the truth, Marlena came home with you.”

He didn’t reply. He couldn’t, because Roman couldn’t be certain that Marlena did choose him. The morning after their confrontation in the cave with Stefano, Roman had seen the pain in Marlena’s eyes, when John entered the room. His fingers were laced with Isabella’s. His eyes were wary, locked on Marlena, while Isabella’s face glowed with happiness, completely unaware of what was happening between John and Marlena. Roman wasn’t unaware. The previous night Marlena had pushed him away…

It was the first time he’d kissed her since he’d found her in San Cristobal. Roman moaned, licking over her lips. He was so lost in the moment, he didn’t realize she was pushing against his chest, until she suddenly cried loudly, “No!”

Roman stumbled backwards, shock lining his features as he stared at her. Marlena’s eyes filled with tears, as she said again, more firmly, “No.”

“I don’t understand, Doc. Now that you know…now that we know that I’m really Roman, you don’t have to keep pushing me away.”

The light in the hut was dim, dust motes swirling through the air. Marlena said softly, “I need to speak with John.”

“What is there to speak to him about?” Roman asked her incredulously. “I’m your husband. Me.”

“I—I know that,” she said softly. “I feel like I need to speak with John first. I need to know how he’s feeling.”

Roman’s frustration was rising over Marlena’s continued concern over John. “Doc, you’re not making any sense! John has Isabella.”

Her eyes filled with tears, “I’m not going to rush this, Roman. I’m asking you to give me some time.”

“Time for what?” he asked her loudly. “I’m your husband!”

“I—I know that, but I feel that John and I need to…I still care for him—”

“—where do you think he is right now? Who do you think he’s with, Doc?” He wanted to hurt her. He wanted Marlena to understand that he was Roman Brady, and her commitment was to him.

Marlena looked at him with pain in her eyes, and she whispered, “I think you should go. I won’t be forced into making a decision right now. I will talk to John…because I told you, Roman, I told you, I love him.”

Roman’s voice was getting louder the angrier he became,”Because you thought he was me, and now we have proof that he’s not! I’m Roman Brady!”

“No!” Marlena cried. “No! That’s not why I love him. I love him because of him, not because I thought he was you! That’s unfair to say, Roman. I can’t simply turn off my emotions. I need to see him, and—and talk about this.” Marlena wiped at her eyes quickly, “I need to find him, because right now, he’s alone, and hurting somewhere.”

Bo waited for Roman to say something, but he didn’t, so he said, “We need to go find Shane. See if he found something, but I think Stefano has already moved them to another location.”

A curt nod of the head, and Roman walked out of the room without a backward glance. Bo looked around the room one last time, and then he left too.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Isla Tortuga, Mexico

Marlena’s eyes fluttered, her back aching and her joints stiff. The night before, when she’d woken, she’d dragged the overstuffed chair across the room, throwing the shutters on the windows wide. She’d stared out over the dark forest, while the light of the full moon lit the sky.

A cacophony of birds cawed and chirped, with the early morning sun, while a soft pink haze was cast over the room, bouncing off of the polished wood furniture. Marlena closed her eyes again, breathing the scent of rich tropical flowers, and allowed her mind to drift off to another time…another place. When John was Roman, and she was so in love she thought it might consume her.

She smiled at Roman, linking her fingers in his, as he pulled her along towards their hotel room. Teasingly, she said, “Oh, see, but I thought you wanted to lay on the beach and work on your tan?”

“Well, I did,” he replied. “And then I saw this goddess rising up out of the pool and I—I looked at her, and I realized it was my wife.” Roman leaned in to kiss her, and when Marlena moaned into his mouth, he knew he’d made the right choice bringing them back up to their room. He had plans for her. Big plans.

When the kiss ended, Marlena found herself breathless, with an instant ache in her core. Resting her head against his, she sighed. But Roman had other plans. He pulled back quickly, and put his hand towards her, “Now, give me the key.”

Instantly confused, she says, “I thought you had the key.”

Roman’s cock was aching, and he wanted her underneath him as soon as possible. He looked at his wife, saying slowly, “No…I always give you the key.”

“But, uh…”

He sighed. His body wanted nothing more than to push through that door and pin his wife against the nearest wall. He wanted to devour her. “Okay…Don’t worry about it. I’ll go down to the lobby and get another one.”

“No, we went past there, remember?” she cried, grabbing his arm to stop him from leaving. “They’re all out for lunch.”

Roman groaned in sexual frustration, “Oh, this is great!” More softly he whispered, “I really wanted to be with you.”

“Oh.” She stepped closer, placing her palm on his chest, staring up at him with wide eyes, “I really wanted to be with you, too.”

His pupils were blown with desire. His voice was rough, “I really…really wanted to be with you…” He paused for a moment, and then asked, “Do you have a pin?”

Marlena felt herself getting excited, “Yes, I think so!” She rummaged through her bag, and pulled out a hat pin with a smile. “What are you going to do?”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” he replied, stepping towards their locked hotel room door. Turning to face her with a sexy smirk, Roman said, “And believe me…there’s a will.”

Marlena gasped. His barely veiled suggestive words, had her pussy clenching with want. Her hand rested on his back, anticipation combined with shock, watching what he was doing, “No! You’re going to pick the lock?”

“Nothing to it—”

She shrieked in excitement, stepping closer, feeling the heat of his back along her abdomen.

Roman smiled, “Nothing to it. First of all you take the object, put a little bend in the end of it, like this—” He bent the end of the pin into a small curve with his teeth.

Something inside her found what he was doing to be one of the sexiest things he’d ever done. “I don’t believe you’re doing this!”

“Are you watching?” he asked her, still bending the pin in his mouth.

Marlena laughed loudly, “I’m watching!”

“Are you watching?” he asked her again, still working the pin.

“I’m watching! I’m watching!”

“Good,” he said. “Cause you’re about to do it.” He handed her the bent pin, and stepped behind her, pushing her body towards the door to their room. “C’mon.”

Marlena stared at the pin, and then Roman, “Oh, I don’t know how to do it! I’ve never done—I—I—”

“—nothin’ to it. Nothin’ to it,” he said again. “Nice and easy.” Roman reached for her right hand, guiding it towards the lock in the door. “Now what you do is, you just put it right inside the lock there…” Marlena could feel her body reacting to the heat of his body against her back, and the rough, whispered cadence of his words in her ear. “And you jiggle it around a little bit until you feel…” He’d lost her completely. Marlena wasn’t even paying attention. She turned her face to his, watching his features line with concentration, as she mumbled, “Uh-huh…”

“A latch. Can you feel it?” he asked her, pushing his hips gently into her backside.

Marlena gasped softly, feeling the line of his cock against her bottom, “Uh-huh…”

“Good girl,” he whispered. He smiled to himself when he felt shivers wrack her body, yet he continued as if he hadn’t noticed. “Alright, now if you keep moving it a little bit…you might hear it…” He turned her wrist quickly, and they both heard the lock catch, as Roman said, “…click.”

Pushing the door open, his palms slid over his wife’s shoulders. She smiled in relief, and with a little bit of pride, “I did it.”

“You did,” he told her, kissing her cheek. “And now you know how to pick a lock.”

She turned back towards Roman with a short laugh, “Wow. One more piece of useless information I will never, ever use.”

“Hey, this lesson’s not over yet.”

Marlena’s eyes scanned his body, resting briefly on the growing mass in his trousers. Suggestively, she said,”There’s more you can do, that you haven’t shown me yet?”

Roman turned her around, facing her towards their open doorway, “Oh, you’re going to be so surprised.”

Her muscles quivered again, as she allowed him to guide her into their room, saying breathlessly, “Oh, yeah?” Whatever it was, she wanted it.

Roman closed the door behind them, looking her over with a dark, sexy, glance, and he asked her roughly, “Are you going to be a good girl, and do what I ask?”

“Yes,” she breathed softly. She would do anything the man standing before her asked of her. “Oh, G-d, yes.”

“C’mere baby.” He reached for her, pulling her with him. Sitting on the end of the bed, he looked up. Their eyes met and held for a brief moment, while Roman gauged how willing she was to play this game. Finally he said, “Take off your clothes, and then I want you in front of me, legs spread at shoulder width.”

Marlena felt as if she might melt into the floor. She ached deep in her center. Roman knew when to take control, and when to let her have her independence, and in the bedroom, she loved it when he took charge. Almost unable to speak, she choked out, “Okay…”

Smiling up at her with a sexy grin, Roman groaned, “That’s my girl.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Stefano stared at the monitor on his desk for several long moments, before he turned to Mason and Rolf. Marlena hadn’t moved the whole time he’d watched her. She’d remained curled into the large chair she’d somehow managed to drag across the room, and she stared out the window, completely immobile. He asked Mason, “How long has she been like this?”

“Almost two days,” he replied. “She only gets up to use the bathroom. She’s refusing food, and I can’t be sure if she’s drinking water.”

“Rolf!” Stefano roared. “How long before you are done with John?”

“Stefano!” Rolf whined. “I cannot get the microchip to work. I—I had to remove it, and I fear trying to insert a new one could kill him.”

“Kill him? Absolutely not! No! I need him. I can still use him to manipulate Roman Brady, and I—” Stefano stopped talking abruptly, surreptitiously glancing over at Mason. Rolf knew immediately what he meant. Continuing, Stefano said, “John Black is essential to my plan for Roman Brady. He’s essential to all of my plans, and I can’t have Marlena starving herself to death over him!”

“I understand,” Rolf said. “However…you must know that with the microchip removed, I can’t be certain if his memories will return.”

Stefano stared at Rolf, seething with anger, but he refused to say more with Mason in the room. “We will discuss this later, Rolf. For now, return John to Marlena. She’s a doctor. Allow her to take over his care.”

Chapter 15

County Clare, Ireland

Summer 1953

Stefano strode into the foyer of his home, his face alight with joy. “She’s coming?” he asked his enforcer. 

“Yes, sir,” the large man replied. “We were able to find the location where she was being kept, and retrieve her.”

“Were they all killed? I want them all dead,” he said. The man’s eyes darted, and Stefano roared, “Kenneth! I said, I wanted them all dead! All of them! Kidnapping my wife, taking what is most precious to me…death is the only possible punishment!”

“The leader, Himself. He and some of his cousins were able to escape,” Kenneth said. “We have men looking for them. They won’t get far. Seraphina should be arriving within minutes. They have her in another car.” Kenneth didn’t add that Serphina had fought them tooth and nail. He didn’t add that she was in advanced pregnancy, with a child that could not be Stefano’s. He didn’t add that she’d attempted to throw her body from a moving car, as they drove towards the DiMera estate.

“I want all of them found, and Himself…save him for me,” Stefano said with a feral smile. 

“Yes, Sir.”

Stefano smiled. His beautiful wife, named for the angels in heaven. He imagined kissing her soft mouth, and the feel of her long hair across his body as he made love to her. On his arm, she was a beauty, attracting the eyes of everyone in the room. She was graceful, and she could play the role he needed her to play, even if she pined away for a sheep farm on the small island of Sardinia. 

An entire year she’d been gone. He had used every resource available to him to locate her. Every time she was located, the individuals who had her would move her to another location. Finally, she was coming home. He would hunt down and burn to the ground everyone involved, simply for daring to cross Stefano DiMera. Every male member of the clan, but especially Himself.

He stepped out onto the large stone patio, watching the approaching headlights shine on the driveway. His wife was a true Italian beauty, born of Sardinia. Blue eyes were rare for Italians, but in her heart-shaped face, those large round eyes framed in a halo of long, silky, black waves, they were beautiful. As soon as he’d set eyes on her, selling cheese at a street market, he’d known she would be his. The oldest daughter to an impoverished sheep farmer, she was reluctant to his initial advances, but as with everything in his life…if he wanted it, he would have it.

He married her just as she’d turned sixteen. He was fourteen years her senior. From the moment he laid eyes on Seraphina, his body had craved her. Even as he pursued her, offering her extravagant gifts, she’d rebuffed his advances, content to live on the edge of poverty. Stefano became even more determined to have her, regarding her as something he wanted to possess. Love never factored into it, although he called it love. For Stefano the more Seraphina tried to escape him, the more determined he became.

He saw the way other men watched her. Her hips would sway, and her long black hair reflected blue in the sun. Seraphina’s tan skin, and blue eyes created a type of beauty unlike any other. She was pure, untouched, and once Stefano had decided he would have her, he was relentless. Initially, her father rebuked his offers. Seraphina was the oldest daughter, and she took on the role of homemaker after her mothers death. It didn’t take much to change his mind. Stefano gave her father enough money to support his remaining ten children, and he’d taken her away. She’d begged her father, pleaded with him, as tears streaked her cheeks, but the exchange was made. The last thing she saw as the car drove away from her home were the teary eyes of her younger siblings, and her older brother’s face lined with fury.

Seraphina had cried softly during the wedding, but Stefano thought it made her more beautiful. She’d cried on the way to his estate after the reception. He could still recall the way her tears softly flowed from her eyes, as he’d made love to her on their wedding night. Whether she’d enjoyed it or not was of no consequence to him. He had set out to have her, and he’d succeeded. Her young age didn’t matter, as long as she provided him with an heir. But she didn’t. No pregnancy had come from their frequent unions, leading Stefano to increasing frustration. 

His life with her had been quiet. She kept to herself. She was intelligent, incredibly intelligent. Anytime he found himself searching for her, he knew she would likely be in the library. He would find her there, wearing some peasant outfit, reading a book. It didn’t matter how many beautiful clothes he bought her, when she was at home, alone, she wore simple cotton shifts and aprons. He would sometimes find her in the kitchen with the cook, making ricotta, and he would become so enraged. He couldn’t understand why she would miss the life she came from, when every day she’d lived there had been a struggle. He wanted Seraphina to find happiness in her new life with him.

And then she was gone. 

He’d only come to Ireland to resolve a supply issue with some illegal weapons he was trying to get through customs. The whole shipment had been stolen, and some members of the opposing clan had died in his attempt to recover the shipment. Seraphina’s kidnapping has been a form of retaliation. 

She stared up at the large stone estate. She’d rather die than be back, living in that foreboding, cold, haunting house. As soon as she’d realized that Stefano’s men had located her, she’d tried to run. She’d fought them with everything she had, scratching, screaming, and kicking like a wild animal, but there was only so much she could do at eight months pregnant. The thought of going back to Stefano had her wishing she would die, rather than suffer a life with him. He had treated her as nothing more than chattel, purchasing her from a father that woke up exhausted, and barely had time for his family. Stefano didn’t love her. He didn’t know what love was. He wanted to own her, he wanted to parade her about, and dress her like a doll…but he didn’t love her.

Stefano stood on the porch waiting for her, and her gut roiled. Maybe he would kill her. It would be the easiest, but then she thought of the child within her, a child she’d been so happy about only the day before. The door to the car was opened, and she stepped out slowly. She watched as a smile spread across Stefano’s face, but as she approached, and the light from the full moon shone down on her body, his features changed, becoming warped with anger and hatred.

Her body was swollen with child, a child that was not his. His perfect, beautiful wife had been defiled. She was ruined. Finally reaching the top step, she faced him. Her chin was held high in defiance, and her deep blue eyes stared into his. “Who did this to you?” he demanded.

Seraphina said nothing, so Stefano turned to Kenneth, and roared, “I want them all killed! Do you hear me? Whoever raped my wife will be dead.” To his wife, he said, “I will kill whoever did this to you.”

She realized that he believed she’d been raped. His arrogance was such that he couldn’t even fathom that she’d willingly slept with someone else. She wanted him to know what she’d done. With hatred in her eyes, she practically laughed at him, saying, “You’ll never find him! His people will hide him. You’ll search for him forever, and never find him.”

“Who did this, my darling?” Stefano asked her in a choked voice, reaching for her, but she stepped back.

“Darling?” she asked. “Is that what I am to you now? When before I was nothing more than a young body in your bed?”

“You’re my wife, Seraphina. I love you. You know that I love you.”

“You love yourself,” she told him fiercely. “You love what I look like on your arm. You don’t love me.”

“I do, and I promise you that I will find whoever did this. Whoever hurt you will suffer a fate worse than death for hurting you,” he said.

“He’s ten times the man you will ever be!”

Stefano stared at her, his mind struggling with the implications of what she’d just said. He considered the amount of time she’d been gone, and who she’d been with. He imagined someone forcing her into bed with them, but then her words pushed the thought away. “What are you saying?” he asked her.

Seraphina said softly, “You say you love me, but every time you had me in your bed it was rape. You call that love. It isn’t. It’s control. It’s manipulation.”

“No! Seraphina!” Stefano couldn’t understand where this anger was coming from. It wasn’t like her. She was meek. She was complacent, the perfect wife. 

“You raped me,” she whispered. “I know that now. I understand what you did.”

“You’re my wife–”

“–you think that you cannot rape a wife? You can! But now I know love. I know love! My child will be born of it.” Seraphina started crying, saying softly, with a deep sense of loss, “I know love.”

And just like that, Stefano’s delusions came crashing down. The love he claimed to feel for her turned to a fiery hatred, as soon as he realized that she wasn’t raped. She had gone willingly into another man’s bed. The space in his heart, where he felt his love for her had resided, suddenly filled with acid. The world he had created in his mind came crashing down. He stared at her incredulously for several moments longer before he said quietly, “You slut! You whore! Who did this?” Stefano grabbed her arm, squeezing it so tightly, she could feel the pinch of her soft flesh between his fingers. 

She smiled through the pain, as she said, “You already know.” Stefano smacked her face so hard she nearly dropped to the ground, and the pleasure he felt brought a smug smile to his face. No one brought shame to his name.

Within an hour Seraphina found herself locked in a small bedroom in the east wing. Her hair had been shorn to the scalp. She rested on the floor on her knees sobbing, praying to any god who would listen to save her from the life she was living. Unbeknownst to her, the dress she’d been wearing was smeared with the blood of a sheep, and sent, along with her hair, to a pub in Ballynacally. 

The message would be delivered. Seraphina DiMera was dead.

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Isla Tortuga, Mexico

There is a place between sleeping and waking where dreams and memories collide. John found himself there, lost in a drugged haze that he was fighting to come out of. 

His muscles were on fire, as he heard his father yell, “Tiro! Tira più forte, Giovanni! [Pull! Pull harder Giovanni!]”

“Lo sono Papi! Sto tirando più forte che posso! [I am, Papi! I’m pulling as hard as I can!]” The rope of the fishing net, burned across the soft skin of his palm. The Sardinian sun beamed down on his dark hair, and his small fists gripped the net even tighter. He was intent on proving to his father that he was capable. Relief made him smile as he finally saw a net full of fish being pulled over the side of the boat.

“Buon lavoro! Un ragazzo così forte, [Good job! Such a strong boy.]” his Papi said.

“L’ho fatto! L’ho fatto! Te l’avevo detto che potevo aiutarti! [I did it! I did it! I told you I could help!]”

“l’hai fatto, [You did]” his father said, ruffling his hair. Giovanni stared up at him, seeing only his large outline framed by the blazing noon sun…

 John stared at the mosquito netting that surrounded the four poster bed. He couldn’t remember where he was or how he got there. Turning his head towards the window, he could hear birds outside, and felt a soft breeze brush over his skin. A sharp pain in his neck had him reaching back, gently touching the bandage on his neck. Movement caught his eye, and he turned to see Marlena coming towards him, carrying a large bowl of water and a soft rag.

“Doc?” he asked her. “Where are we?”

She sat the bowl down carefully, “What do you remember?”

“I remember deciding to come find you…telling…” John stopped speaking, realizing that he was about to mention Rebecca. He had to tell Marlena about her. Instead he asked her, “Are we in Baliceaux?”

“Stefano moved us…just as Roman was about to find us, most likely,” she replied, wringing the cool water from the rag. Marlena sat beside him on the bed, and ran the soft cloth over his fevered skin. “We’re in Mexico now. Another private island, Isla Tortuga.”

“What happened to me?”

“Stefano had you taken away from me about three days ago. They brought you back early this morning. Your neck was bandaged and you were unconscious…until just now.”

He was looking at her intently, as if he were looking at her for the first time in two years, “You’re beautiful, Doc.”

Color flushed her cheeks, and she dipped her head slightly, “Thank you.”

His hand lifted, touching her face softly. “I found you on Baliceaux?”

“Yes,” she said softly, allowing herself to turn her cheek into his hand for a moment. “I think…I think Stefano was hoping to use you for something, but I can’t be certain. I overheard Mason and Anthony outside my room. Anthony said there was no use for you…but Mason said, Stefano felt like you still had value…to use against Roman, and the Brady’s.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” he said softly. “Why me? I understand that he has this insane vendetta against the Brady’s…but how does it involve me?”

Marlena wiped over his face slowly, enjoying the fact that she could allow herself to be this close to him. “I’m not sure. I am concerned that you’ve forgotten the last week or so…I was able to get a look at your neck. It’s a small incision. Inconsequential, really…”

“I think I had a memory,” he told her. 

Surprised, she placed the rag in the bowl of water, and asked him, “Can you tell me about it?”

“I was small, almost scrawny. Maybe eight or nine years old. I’d–I’d begged my Papi to take me out on the fishing boat. He didn’t think I was old enough, that I could do the work. But I was determined to prove that I could.” John smiled, glancing at Marlena. “I was so proud of myself. He was proud of me. He said, Un ragazzo così forte.”

Marlena was curious, “Italian?”

John seemed surprised, when he finally understood what she was asking. “Yes, I think so.”

“Do you know what it means?”

“Such a strong boy,” John whispered. “I helped him pull in a net full of fish. He called me Giovanni.”

“John,” Marlena whispered. “Do you realize that even with amnesia, you managed to select a variation of your true name?”

He smiled, “I guess I did.”

His smile did something to her. Her heart started beating, and butterflies filled her belly. Reaching over, she wrung out the cloth again, and started stroking over John’s face. Without thought she murmured, “I shouldn’t care about you as much as I do.”

John caught her wrist in his hand, stopping her movement. Marlena stared down at him, the desire to kiss him, had her leaning forward, but he stopped her. 

“I want to kiss you so badly right now, Doc…but I can’t. I can’t unless I know that I’ve been honest with you.”

Warily, she asked, “Honest with me?”

“Have we discussed our lives over the past two years?” John wanted to know. “Have we discussed Roman? Or my life in Italy? Have we discussed…the last time we saw each other?”

Marlena felt tears forming in her eyes, “We haven’t had much opportunity.” The plane, and the pregnancy that followed were a painful time for her. She’d never spoken about it to anyone. In truth she’d been avoiding it. Her life with Roman had been quiet. Marlena immersed herself in her work, and her children. Roman had become a secondary consideration. 

“We should talk, Doc. We should talk about everything,” he said.

Chapter 16

Plane Over the Midwest

It was quiet on the flight back to Salem. Shane, Abe, and a few of the other ISA agents fell asleep, but Bo didn’t. Instead he watched a change come over his brother. Roman had gone back to gather the photos that had been scattered about the room on the estate in Baliceaux. Bo hadn’t even been aware that he’d done it until they’d boarded the airplane. When Bo saw him with the photos, Roman knew he was going to say something. He cut him off, saying, “Bo, I know what you’re going to say, but this is evidence. There could be clues in these photographs.”

Bo didn’t reply. After all, what could he say? There could be clues in the photographs, but he also knew that looking through them, and studying them, would be painful for Roman, because he’d spent the last three years pretending that John and Marlena had never happened.

Roman was stuck on a series of photos from Mexico. John and Marlena talking on the beach. John and Marlena talking near the pyramid, and most curious, the two of them holding hands inside Marlena’s hut. Turning to Bo, he asked, “Who took these photos in Mexico?”

Bo reached for the photographs, and a sinking sick feeling came over him. “I didn’t take them…neither did Carly.”

“So where did they come from?”

“Stefano was there, Roman. We know he didn’t die…maybe–”

“You’re telling me, you think Stefano had someone following us in Mexico?” Roman asked incredulously.

Bo looked at his brother in disbelief, before saying, “Stefano has tortured this family for years, and we don’t know why. He kept you prisoner for seven years, and made you watch videos of John and Marlena. Do you really find it so surprising that he might have had someone following them and taking photos?” Bo leaned forward, and whispered, “Think about it…the puzzle he sent? He’s not above taking some photos and using them against you…or using them as possible clues years later.”

“But why these photos?” Roman wondered aloud, taking the pictures from Bo’s hand. In all of them Marlena and John stared at each other as if there was no one else in the world. They were always touching, their fingers linked together, or Marlena’s hand on John’s shoulder. Near the pyramid she was stroking his face, both of their features lined in evident emotional pain. “All of the other photos were taken when she thought he was me, but these–” Roman continued to stare at them feeling as if there was something he was missing. Marlena only loved John because she’d convinced herself he was Roman. He’d been telling himself that for years, but then he remembered when they were in Mexico. The night Marlena had pushed him away, and she’d been very clear…she loved John for who he was, not who she’d believed him to be.

Roman remembered leaving her hut that night, frustrated and confused, thinking that Marlena only loved John because she’d been a victim of Stefano. He believed she was still confused, she simply needed time to come to terms with the truth. As he’d walked towards the main house, he’d seen Isabella walking in the opposite direction…

“Isabella,” Roman called, running to catch up with her. “Where’s John?”

“He’s down by the beach,” she said. “He said he needed some time to think. He’s…struggling.”

Roman was quiet, staring towards the beach. Finally he said, “Yeah, Doc’s having a hard time too.” His eyes met Isabella’s, and he said, “Maybe you shouldn’t leave him alone. I know he asked you to, but maybe what he really needs right now is your love and support.”

There was more meaning in Roman’s words than what he said. Isabella looked at him, realizing what he was saying. John and Marlena alone would find their way back to each other. She glanced towards Marlena’s hut, and she said, “You’re right. I should go check on him. He needs to know that I love him, and he isn’t alone.”

She knew what he was saying. He could read the moment it came to her. Roman replied, “I think that’s a good idea.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Isla Tortuga, Mexico

The cool cloth on his face felt wonderful. John sighed softly, “Do you ever think about Mexico?”

Marlena didn’t like to think about any of it, but she said softly, “Probably too often.”

“When you think about it…do you think about us?”

Instantly, an ache started to grow in her chest. All of it was too much right then, but especially when she thought about who they left with. Roman had been pleased. Isabella had been smug. Marlena didn’t like to think about it at all, but she hadn’t lied. She did think about it more often than she’d like.  “I’m not sure I can have this conversation, John.” Marlena stood up, placing the cloth in the bowl, and moved to take the bowl back into the bathroom. 

His hand reached out, resting on her thigh, “Doc…don’t walk away right now.”

“I’m not sure now is the time to try and unpack it all,” she whispered.

“Then when?” he asked her, struggling to sit up. “When are we ever going to have this opportunity again?”

She sat the bowl back down, watching John scoot back against the headboard. “John, you really shouldn’t be moving around too much.”

“Then talk to me. I mean, really talk to me…” he said in a pleading voice. “Are you happy?”

Marlena walked over to the window, “Happy is subjective. I’m…content. I’m not unhappy.” Staring into the forest canopy, she told him, “Mexico…talking about Mexico is painful. I think about it quite often, and every single time it hurts. It hurts like it all just happened, and the pain is fresh again. Saying goodbye in my hut…seeing you that morning with Isabella.” She turned back to face him with tears clouding her eyes, “John, what is discussing it now going to accomplish?”

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You would never intentionally hurt me–”

“–but I did,” he said. He reached out for her, his hand begging her to come closer, and she did. She sat beside him on the bed facing him, and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, as if she could somehow comfort herself.

“That night, after we thought Stefano died in the cave…I looked everywhere for you. I ended up back in my hut, and Roman came to me. He kissed me, and he started pushing for things…things I wasn’t comfortable giving him, because I loved you. I tried to explain how I felt, but he either didn’t understand or he refused to listen.” She smiled at him sadly, “I sent him away, and I waited. You never came. I sat awake for hours, until my eyes burned from exhaustion, but you never came.”

“You were with Roman,” he said. 

“I was alone.”

John wanted to reach out to her, to hold her close, but he felt like Marlena wouldn’t accept it right then. She was feeling vulnerable, and he’d hurt her, even if it was unintentional. “I’d asked Isabella for some time alone. I needed to think…about the baby, and about what my relationship with her was going to be. I needed to think about you, but she came to find me on the beach. She said you were with Roman…” John stopped talking, staring into Marlena’s hazel eyes, and he thought about that night. “She said you were with Roman. She’d run into him, and he’d told her he was staying with you that night.”

She’d watched Roman walk away as she stood in the doorway of her hut. She’d seen him speaking to Isabella, and she’d seen Isabella turn and walk towards the beach. “Roman sent her after you,” Marlena told him softly, remembering a conversation with Roman the following morning.

 “You look tired, Doc. What time did you get to bed?” Roman asked her.

“Roman, it’s barely six o’clock in the morning,” Marlena replied, pushing her hair out of her face.

Roman continued as if waking her up wasn’t an issue, “I was wondering if you’d had a chance to think about us?”

“I–I haven’t had a chance to speak with John yet, Roman. I need to talk to him, and the pressure you’re putting on me is unfair. I need some time.”

“I don’t know why you need time,” he said carelessly. “John seems to have made up his mind fairly quickly.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was with Isabella, down near the beach all night.”

She remembered getting dressed in a rush, and heading over to the main house, and she remembered John walking in, refusing to make eye contact with his hand wrapped around Isabella’s. Knowing they’d made love, and knowing that he felt guilty about it, made the heartache even worse. Because he’d never even given her the choice.

Marlena brushed at the tears escaping her eyes. John reached for her, “Doc, come lay with me.”

It was just as painful then, as it had been nearly four years before, “I can’t.” She couldn’t look at him, and she found herself staring at rose colored wallpaper festooned with peacocks and plumeria flowers. “I saw Roman after he left me that night. I saw him speaking with Isabella, and I watched her head towards the beach. He knew…he sent her to you, and he allowed me to wait in my hut thinking you would come to me.”

“Doc, honey, you can’t be certain–”

“He came to me early the following morning, just to let me know…I would have known anyway, as soon as I saw the two of you, I knew,” she whispered, finally looking at him again. “Isabella held your hand like a woman in love…a woman who’d fought for you, and won. It was a knife to my heart. I’d fought my way home to you and the children. I had been trying to reconnect with you since September, and you’d consistently pushed me away, but still…I hoped, because you were all I wanted. G-d, John…I hoped and I prayed that you would want me, and love me the way my heart wept for you. You didn’t. So, I went home with Roman.”

When Isabella had found him on the beach, the tide was coming in and he’d barely noticed. The water was lapping over his legs, and he hadn’t moved in hours. John remembered looking up at her in frustration…

“Isabella,” he sighed. “I asked you to give me some time…I still need to find Marlena, and–she and I need to discuss some things.”

She sat on the wet sand beside him, reaching for his hand, “She’s with Roman. I saw him going into her hut, and it…it looked intimate.”

“No,” John told her in a choked voice. “Isabella said…she said she’d seen Roman going into your hut…she said it looked intimate.”

Anger flared in her belly like an inferno, and she stared at John with fierce eyes, “You didn’t think to come to me? To at least give me the respect I deserved and have that conversation? You knew what I wanted. It wasn’t a secret, John! All those months together in that house, living as a family…You knew what I wanted! That evening in Mexico, I looked for you in every place I could think you might be, and you–”

“–I’m sorry…Doc, I’m sorry. I thought–” John stumbled over his words. What had he thought? He’d thought that once Marlena found out he wasn’t Roman, she would cast him aside. He hadn’t valued himself, he hadn’t allowed her to value him. He’d believed that she couldn’t love him for who he was, and maybe she only loved him for being Roman. It sounded ridiculous now, and it was too late to take back.

Marlena stood up quickly, shrugging off John’s hand in haste, unable to feel the heat of his skin against hers. Isabella had lied to him, she’d intentionally manipulated him, and he’d fallen for it. Tears burned her eyes, and she choked out, “I can’t–I can’t do this!”

John scrambled from the bed, intent on following her, and nearly lost his footing when a wave of dizziness overtook him. “Doc…” he said helplessly. 

Marlena rushed to him, “I told you to stay in the bed…I don’t know what they gave you, what drugs could still be in your system.”

John sat heavily on the edge of the bed, “I can’t have you walk away from this. I know it hurts, baby, but we have to discuss it…or it could always be between us.”

“Does it matter now? Because no matter what, you chose Isabella. That will always be between us. Roman will always be between us!”

“I didn’t realize she’d lied to me. I thought I was losing everything–”

The anger wouldn’t seem to go away. It continued to grow, because he wasn’t the only one who’d lost things. In a mind that was normally controlled and rational, she found herself losing control, shouting, “So, you fucked her? I was waiting, desperate to speak with you, because I couldn’t let you go, and you gave up! You gave up on us, and you slept with her–”

“–No! Doc!” he tried to say, but he knew it was true. He’d taken what Isabella told him as the truth, and he’d slept with her, making Marlena his second choice, because, had he known she was waiting on him, she would have been his first choice.

Marlena stood staring out the window again, and she said, “This is why I didn’t want to talk about this. It changes nothing, and it hurts.” Turning to look at him, she whispered, “It hurts too much. My heart is breaking all over again.”

John sat helplessly on the side of the bed, and watched her pick up the bowl of water and head towards the bathroom. He let her go without further argument. Roman and Isabella had played them both, and John knew if they hadn’t, his and Marlena’s lives would have played out differently. 

Chapter 17

Isla Tortuga, Mexico

Stefano stared at Rolf in disgust, saying, “Nothing can be done then? John can’t be reprogrammed?”

Sighing, and feeling as if the conversation was becoming redundant, Rolf replied, “If I try to place a newer microchip, I think it could kill him.”

Stefano was disappointed, “John still has his uses, but I was hoping, since the attempts with Hope failed…Ah! Nevermind…I will need to find another way to get my hands on the Matisse. I have Gina’s forgery, but without John to complete the switch…” Stefano sighed in frustration, “I must let it go for now.”

“Since you mentioned Hope, what would you like to do with her? She still has no memory of who she is.”

“She is absolutely no use to me,” Stefano replied. “But, I am unwilling to send her home just yet. That’s too easy. Leave her at Maison Blanche for now. I may move her later.”

“Celeste says she is asking questions…wondering where you are,” Rolf told him.

With a casual wave of his hand, Stefano said, “I will be moving John and Marlena, and then I will go check on Hope. Roman will be getting another delivery soon…there was a very interesting bit of conversation between John and Marlena last night, and now that John’s wife is in Salem demanding to be privy to everything…John is useful in other ways. Sometimes, Rolf, plans must be changed. The end result will always be the same. I will destroy everything, and everyone, that Shawn Brady loves and holds dear.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

John sat on the floor near the bedroom door, leaning against the wall, watching Marlena. The chair she must have dragged to the window when Stefano took him, was still sitting in front of the open window. Rain poured, creating a cacophony of soft noise on the wood of the windowsill and the gray skies outside indicated a day full of precipitation. Marlena sat, curled into the chair with a ragged copy of Moby Dick that had belonged to him during a life he was only now beginning to remember. She wasn’t reading, instead, she stared out into the rainy abyss, lost in her own thoughts. She was gorgeous. She was beautiful. She had also barely spoken more than ten words to him since the day before. Her words rang in his head, “So, you fucked her? I was waiting, desperate to speak with you, because I couldn’t let you go, and you gave up!”

They needed to talk, get it all out, but maybe Marlena was right. What would it change? Realizing that he’d been manipulated by Isabella was a hard truth to swallow. In her death, his mind had created a martyr out of her. Isabella had been grace, kindness, love…shelter from the storm. Finding out she’d intentionally manipulated him, and lied to him, probably at Roman’s urging, changed that. Isabella’s memory suddenly lacked the brilliance it once held, because her lies and her manipulation had changed the course of his life, and it wasn’t for the better. 

After discussing Mexico with Marlena, he’d pretended to fall asleep while she was in the bathroom. She was in too much pain to continue the conversation, and he needed to process his own emotions. An hour later, she had curled her body onto the other side of the bed, and quietly cried herself to sleep. Her soft sobs had rocked the bed, and John wanted to reach out to her, and pull her into his arms. He’d wanted to kiss the tears from her face, and whisper soft words of reassurance against her lips. He hadn’t done either of those things, because he knew she would push him away. 

Her skin was cool. The rain had been coming down for hours, and the staunch breeze occasionally blew mist in through the window. She could feel the dampness on her skin, and she knew her hair was a mass of curls from the humidity. She was still trying to understand how she and John had gone so wrong in Mexico. How many other times had they failed to tell each other how they really felt? Nothing had changed, not really. She was married to Roman, but her conversation with John the day prior, changed how she felt about everything in regards to John, and their separation in Mexico. Marlena no longer felt like she wasn’t wanted. She no longer felt like John’s second choice. The sting was a little less, because maybe, if John had known she was waiting on him, he would have come to her.

Marlena shook her head. Thoughts like those were dangerous. She turned her head, and found John staring at her intently. A soft gasp escaped her. She hadn’t realized he was looking at her. Normally she would feel it. John’s eyes were so intent that she could feel his glance in a crowded room. “How long have you been watching me?” 

John watched her lips part, and he heard the gentle intake of air. “The last time you looked like this, I was saying goodbye to you at the airport. After the storm, when the rain was nothing more than a mist that had settled into your hair.”

Her body pushed against her car in the shadows, and John’s hands on her hips, holding her steady. She remembered it all. How could she forget? She went there more often than she would admit. In her sleep, in her daydreams, and sometimes as Roman made love to her she closed her eyes, and remembered John’s hands on her. Her eyes were locked on him, “I remember.”

“I left for Italy that night, and when I got there, you consumed my every thought. I would dream of my hands on your body, and the sounds of your passion in my ear. Every night I dreamt that you were back in my arms on the couch in Victor’s plane–”

“–John,” Marlena whispered. “We shouldn’t talk about this.”

“I left…but all I wanted was for you to beg me to stay,” he told her. “There were so many times when I found myself packing my bags, ready to head back to Salem, because I wanted to taste you again…I wanted to sink into your depths, and wrap you in my arms. It was torture. Allowing ourselves to make love that night might have been the worst choice.”

Marlena stared at John, watching a tear roll down his face. “I don’t regret it. I have lived on the memory of you making love to me. That night…John, that night is something I will never regret.”

He had to tell her the truth. He couldn’t keep putting it off. “I got to Italy, and I was in so much pain. The desire to come back to you was so strong…I threw myself into another relationship immediately. I was desperate. Not to forget you, because I could never forget you, but I needed a distraction…”

Another relationship? She couldn’t breathe. It was as if she’d been punched and all of the air in her lungs was suddenly gone. Marlena stared at John waiting for him to continue, while at the same time dreading it, because she knew it would bring a pain greater than she could bear.

He saw the moment when she anticipated his next words, and it nearly broke him to utter them, “I’m married.”

“You called me that October,” she whispered. There was tightness in her chest as she said, “For my birthday.”

John knew he was hurting her, but he’d done this, and he needed to face it. “I was married in May.”

He’d called her on her birthday, and they’d spoken for a while, and not once did he mention a wife. She tried to shut out images of John and his wife living the domestic life.  “You never said.”

“Maybe…maybe, I couldn’t tell you because I wished it weren’t true,” he said softly. “It’s…I married Rebecca.”

Marlena stood up quickly, feeling her world crashing around her. She considered briefly that it would hurt less, if he’d married a stranger, but he didn’t. He’d married Rebecca Morrison. Someone that Marlena considered ruthless and cut-throat in the courtroom. She’d been pregnant with his child, and he’d been dating Rebecca. She’d suffered through a miscarriage in April, burying their child in the roots of a tree in her backyard, and he’d been married the following month. She couldn’t breathe as she stared at him, unable to say anything. Her body was shutting down, and she whispered, “Rebecca? You married Rebecca Morrison?”

John nodded his head once, watching her from where he sat on the floor. She looked around, ready to flee to the bathroom, and John scrambled to his feet, “Doc, don’t run from this please!”

The pain of what he’d done, even though she knew she had no control over it, came out in a choked sob, “Rebecca isn’t right for you!”

“And you are? You pushed me away, Doc! You pushed me away, and I didn’t think I would survive it!” he cried. “You have to understand that!” 

But she didn’t. It felt like he’d done the same thing all over again. When he thought he’d lost her in Mexico, he’d slept with Isabella, and in Italy, when he thought he’d lost her, he’d married Rebecca. She felt abandoned. It was irrational. It wasn’t fair to John, but it didn’t change how she felt. While she’d been mourning their child, he’d been moving on. She started sobbing, falling to her knees where she stood. Memories flashed through her mind of her bloody hand cradling the small life they created, and the small wooden box as she covered it with dirt. Her life had been falling apart and John had been starting over.

She sensed the warmth of his body behind her, before she felt him. John sat with her, pulling her body into the vee of his legs, and he wrapped himself around her. He must have been crying too, because she could feel his hot tears flowing down the back of her neck, “Doc…Doc, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed, and fought for you. I wanted you to fight for me…”

Marlena choked, turning and burying her face in his chest, “How could I? How could I disrupt my whole life for you…when I thought I was your second choice?”

And then he understood, because of what happened in Mexico, she hadn’t trusted his feelings. She hadn’t trusted his love, and she watched him walk away, thinking that she was saving herself more pain. “I’m sorry,” John whispered, gripping her face with his hands. “No, G-d, Doc, no! You were not my second choice! You never could be, when my every thought was consumed with you. Every dream had me waking with the taste of your lips on my tongue.” Staring into her tear filled, hazel eyes, he said fiercely, “You were always my first choice! I’m so sorry, baby. I promise you, I fucking promise, no matter what…I will never keep my feelings from you again. I won’t hide anything from you. No more secrets.”

Secrets. Marlena began to push at John’s chest, scrambling to get away from him. It was almost as if she could feel her child in her hand at that moment, “I can’t do this! It hurts so much, and it’s as if I’m losing her all over again.”

John held her tightly, refusing to allow her to run, and he whispered, “Talk to me, Marlena. Please, talk to me.” She looked up at him helplessly, and John whispered, “Please talk to me.”

“I can’t! I can’t!” she cried. Her tears started soaking the front of his shirt, and then instead of pushing him away her fists gripped the fabric pulling him closer.

John managed to get them both standing, and he lifted her into his arms, carrying her the few brief steps to the bed. Placing her down gently, he felt her arms tighten around his neck, as she whispered, “Don’t leave me…please don’t leave me…”

“I’m not leaving you,” he told her, sliding in behind her on the bed. “I’m going to lay here, and hold you as long as you need me to.”

Rolling to face him, Marlena rested her face on his pillow. Her lips were so close he could feel her heated breath on his mouth, as she asked him, “You promise?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Salem Police Department

By the time Rebecca arrived at the Salem Police Department, everyone else had already gathered. A cassette recorder sat on Abe’s desk, and Shane held a cassette in his hand. Roman had been true to his word. She was being included, and they’d waited on her. 

“Okay,” Bo said. “Let’s get the show on the road, Shane.” Bo had been thinking a lot about why Roman might have a series of photos from Mexico in the collection of pictures they found in Baliceaux. He hadn’t said anything yet, because he wasn’t sure, but he was almost certain it was connected to Mexico, and that Mexico was the next location. Stefano was playing a game with their minds, and the only way to decipher the clues was to figure out the connections. Otherwise, they would continue to discover John and Marlena’s location just after they’d been moved. 

The room was silent, as Shane placed the cassette in the player, and hit play. Silence crackled from the speakers, and then finally they heard John’s voice. Rebecca almost sighed in relief, until she realized what they were talking about.

John: Do you ever think about Mexico?

Marlena: Probably too often.

John: When you think about it…do you think about us?

Marlena: I’m not sure I can have this conversation, John.

Roman glanced around at everyone in the room, feeling wary about any conversation that John and Marlena might have about Mexico. He could hear rustling on the tape, and then John’s voice again.

John: Doc…don’t walk away right now.

Marlena: I’m not sure now is the time to try and unpack it all.

John: Then when? When are we ever going to have this opportunity again?

Marlena: John, you really shouldn’t be moving around too much.

John: Then talk to me. I mean, really talk to me…Are you happy?

Marlena: Happy is subjective…

The tape ended abruptly, and everyone listening knew there was more to the conversation that had been cut off. The room was bathed in silence, everyone lost in their own thoughts over what they had just heard. It was more than what was said, every person present registered the emotion in those two voices differently. Rebecca heard sadness. Roman heard want. Shane, Abe, and Bo all heard a combination of loss and grief. Shane said to Abe, “I think we need to listen to it again, but I think we can assume that Stefano probably has them in Mexico.”

Roman interjected, “We can’t be sure–”

“–No,” Bo said quickly. “I think Shane’s right. I was thinking about the photographs we found in Baliceaux. All of them were older pictures, from when John and Marlena were married…but then there were a few that were taken in Mexico. We don’t know who took them, and we have to think about this Roman…the only reason they would be included would be if Stefano specifically chose those photos to mess with our heads.”

“And why would he give us such obvious clues?” Roman asked with distraction. He couldn’t focus. His mind had become consumed with a myriad of possibilities. John and Marlena were confined together, and their conversations were becoming intimate. How long would it be before his machinations with Isabella came to light? It was possible they already had.

Rebecca whispered, “Maybe to confuse you? If he places clues that are obvious, almost too obvious, it makes you doubt yourselves.”

Abe said, “Remember, partner, Mexico is a large nation. Even knowing a general location is no use to us. We still have to do the research and figure out where he has them.”

“The ISA is compiling a list of every known DiMera property holding, to include properties owned by DiMera subsidies,” Shane told them. “All we can do is wait…and hope.” He leaned forward, rewinding the tape, and the room became quiet, as John’s voice said, “Do you ever think about Mexico?”

Chapter 18

Caroline and Shawn Brady Residence

Shawn sat at his dining room table with Caroline, Bo, Shane, and Kim. His mug of coffee was held tightly between his palms, and he tried to keep the anxiety inside him from spilling over. He was about to have a hard conversation. A conversation he had always hoped to avoid. His brow was creased in concentration as he tried to process the information they were telling him. “So, Stefano’s feeding you clues, and then moving John and Marlena right as ye get close?”

“Ya, Pop, and Shane and I were discussing it, and it’s odd. Stefano had them in Baliceaux, the same island where he held Carrie when he kidnapped her all those years ago. Now we’re almost certain he has them in Mexico. There’s a connection…I know there is!” Bo said in frustration. “I just can’t put my finger on it.”

Kim said quietly, “Maybe he’s taking them to locations that hold significance for John and Marlena. When Carrie was kidnapped, John and Diana went to Baliceaux. That’s when he was still fighting the hypnotic trigger.”

Bo was quiet, and then replied, “The pagoda. I remember you mentioning that. It happened when Hope and I were gone with Shawn D.”

“Yes, and that’s a time that John struggles to remember even still, because of the games Stefano was playing with his mind, but Diana told me…Stefano had been baiting her with clues for months. She’d kept them from John until just before they arrived on Baliceaux. She finally came clean. John was desperate to find Marlena…if she was alive. Stefano had hired a woman to impersonate her–”

“–what if it was her?” Shane interjected. “It wouldn’t be beyond Stefano’s diabolical nature to have used Marlena at times, and a decoy at other times.”

Kim was confused, “But, John said later that he found the woman, and she was hired by Stefano. It wasn’t Marlena.”

“It might not have been her every time,” Bo said softly. “And John would have felt it…he and Marlena have this connection. Not seeing her face, he would have still been drawn to her.”

“So, it’s possible he did see Marlena?” Caroline asked. “Kim, you said he doesn’t remember this time clearly. Is that possible? Could he have seen her…possibly interacted with her? That would make the connection to Baliceaux have deeper meaning.”

“It’s possible, but I had disregarded it, and now I feel like a fool. I did some hypnosis with him after they came home, and during those sessions he was certain that he’d seen Marlena. He even claimed to have had conversations with her,” Kim said. He’d said more than that under hypnosis, but Kim was reluctant to reveal anything that John had said in confidence. 

Bo noticed the color rising in Kim’s cheeks, “Sis, we don’t have time to worry about convention right now…what came up in those sessions?”

“You have to understand that this was when John believed…we all believed that he was Roman. Under hypnosis he was alternating between being a mercenary and being Roman. He claimed that there was a recreation of his home on that island. It was built into a copse of stone. He believed that he found Marlena there. He said they spent hours together, and…he’d kissed her, promising her he would return for her,” Kim told them. “I couldn’t be sure if it was true, because when he came out of hypnosis all of it was lost. He didn’t remember any of it. Diana was adamant that we work to get the pagoda trigger out of his mind, because he’d already pushed Carrie to the ground at the pier, and he was unpredictable when he was triggered. At some points I would have to give him commands just to keep him from going rogue.”

Shawn stared at his daughter in shock, “Kimmy, you never mentioned any of this!”

“I didn’t want to scare you, Papa. Diana and I thought he was a danger to himself and so we decided to work as hard as we could to get rid of the pagoda trigger…I couldn’t focus on whether or not Marlena was alive.”

“And John…he lost all of his memories of the time on that island?” Shawn asked.

“Once the pagoda trigger was gone, he was convinced that the woman he’d seen on Baliceaux was someone hired by Stefano,” Kim told them. “I tried to speak with him about it once or twice, but he insisted he couldn’t keep living in the past.”

“If John was on Baliceaux, and believed Marlena to be there as well, it proves that there is a connection between the two of them and that island, and we know from the photos that there is a connection between the two of them and Mexico,” Shane said. “I think it’s a safe assumption that the next place Stefano moves them will follow the same pattern. But why the game? Why keep moving them and playing this game? It’s a massive waste of resources for him, when it would be simpler to hide them away somewhere at one location.”

Caroline nudged Shawn, and her husband looked at her. She wanted him to say something, but saying something meant that he would be laying his past out for his family. A past he was ashamed of. A past he had left behind him in Ireland. 

Bo, Kim, and Shane watched the silent communication taking place between Shawn and Caroline, but they said nothing.

Shawn sighed, finally saying, “I was speaking with Caroline last night, after Bo called, and I think the connection…the reason Stefano has hated this family is me. I didn’t realize until Bo said he was moving John and Marlena around, and ye feared he was planning ta’ move em’ again. I don’t like speakin’ of me past. Ye know that.”

Kim smiled, “You have been pretty tight lipped about it, Pop.”

“I left me past in Ireland for good reason, Kimmy, and now I’ll be diggin’ it up, and layin’ meself bare for ye.” Wringing his hands he continued, “Before I came to Salem, I was the head of a crime syndicate in Ireland. I had no name, except to me family. In business I was known as Himself. I kept me family, and me village safe. We weren’t wanting any outsiders coming into Ballynacally. Me cousin, Eamon, always the upstart, filched a weapons shipment belonging to an organization not of Ireland, instantly makin’ the Brady clan a target. Eamon was the first to die, along with Declan, and Sean. Eamon’s brother, Colm, went missing too.”

Kim and Bo stared at their father as if he had suddenly become someone else, but they didn’t interrupt. 

“Colm showed up a few days later with a woman,” Shawn said. “She was young, barely eighteen. Colm had kidnapped the wife of the man responsible fer the deaths of Eamon, Declan and Sean, putting me in a position I never wanted to be in.”

“You think this is connected to John and Marlena?” Shane asked.

“I didn’t realize it was Stefano Dimera until after you called last night, Bo.”

Kim wanted to know what had caused her father to think he was the reason Stefano hated the Brady’s. “What made you think that, Pop?”

“I demanded that Colm take the girl and drop her somewhere. I told Colm to take her up to Burren and leave her. Let her find her way home, but she cried and pleaded with me to let her stay,” Shawn said. “She had the biggest, brightest blue eyes full of tears, and she sobbed her way right into me heart.”

“You fell in love with her?” Kim whispered with a smile. Even without saying it, she saw a change come over her father’s face. A softness in his eyes when he spoke about her.

“Everytime her husband’s men got close, we had to move her. At first I put Colm and Finn in charge, but later…I made it my responsibility. Seraphina was with me for nearly a year before her husband’s enforcer caught up with us. Colm and Finn died protecting her. I had gone home to check on my parents, because their house had caught fire. I know now that it was intentionally set to distract me. Seraphina fought them, but she wasn’t strong enough. By the time I got there Finn was dead, and Colm died in me arms…two days later, a package arrived at the pub in Ballynacally. All it contained was Seraphina’s bloody dress, and her shorn hair.”

“Her husband killed her?” Bo asked in shock.

“Aye, and me babe too. She was set to deliver within the month,” Shawn said softly.

Caroline reached over, wiping the tears from Shawn’s face, and she said, “Shawn and his family hid Seraphina for almost a year. They moved frequently, hiding her…and when you said last night that Stefano moved John and Marlena, it seemed like too much of a coincidence.”

“Do you know the name of the organization? Maybe there’s a way to see if it’s one of Stefano’s?” Shane said.

“I never made a connection with the name before,” Shawn said. “I was trying to start a new life. Forget me past, and keep my family back in Ireland safe. Maybe, I pushed it so far back, I couldn’t see what was right in front of me face. I never met the man, never saw his photo, but the name was Aremid, and last night, Caroline realized Aremid is DiMera spelled backwards.”

“Aremid is a DiMera organization. The first mention of it in ISA records was during the prohibition with illegal alcohol transports. There’s a town about 300 miles from here by the same name,” Shane said. “Once the 18th amendment was repealed with the 21st amendment, Aremid switched over to smuggling arms…there’s a definite connection.”

Kim was silent. So silent that everyone at the table looked at her wondering what she was about to say. “Seraphina was pregnant?” she asked, not really expecting an answer. “And you say you were led to believe she’d been killed?”

“What else was there to believe, Kimmy? The bloody dress, and her hair,” Shawn choked, wiping at his eyes again. “What else would I be thinkin’?”

“What Stefano wanted you to believe, Pop, but, with what we know of Stefano, murdering a pregnant woman doesn’t seem like something he’d do. He’d be more likely to make you believe she was dead, and keep her confined somewhere,” Bo said. “Which means–”

“–your child may have been born,” Shane said slowly.

Shawn stared at them unbelieving, and Kim said, “In order to figure this out, we’re going to have to think like Stefano, and I think you’re right, Bo. Stefano is a lot of things, but murdering a pregnant woman isn’t something he would do. He prefers emotional torture. Killing someone who betrayed him would be too easy. He would want them to suffer. Look at what he did to Roman. He took him away from his family, and his children, making us all believe he was dead. He replaced him with John, having us believe John was Roman, and then he took Marlena away from John, allowed her to come back, and then Roman came home.”

“None of that makes sense, Kimmy!” Shawn cried. “If he’s wanting to hurt me, then hurt me.”

“But his goal was to make you suffer,” Kim told him. “And what better way to do that, than to force you to watch your family suffer?”

“It makes no sense!” Shawn said, standing up in frustration. “If it were true then what has John got to do with any of it? Why pull him into this? You can’t tell me that John’s been made to suffer all these years for no reason.”

“There would be a reason,” Bo whispered. “If Seraphina wasn’t killed, and she gave birth. Stefano would see that child as nothing more than a manifestation of his wife’s betrayal.”

Caroline gasped, suddenly realizing where Bo’s train of thought was going, “You’re not saying…that John is…”

“We’d have to do a DNA test,” Shane said. “It’s the only way to be sure. We already have John’s DNA on file with the ISA, because we tested John and Roman when Roman returned.”

Shawn was afraid to hope, and scared to acknowledge what he thought they were saying, but he had to know, “If John were me son, wouldn’t that have been known when they compared his DNA with Roman’s?”

“That’s just it,” Shane said. “It wasn’t. They weren’t looking for a familial match when that test was run. They were looking for an exact match. Any similarities would have been overlooked, but I know for a fact, there were similarities, which was why Chief Tarrington had the test run twice! What we need to do is run John’s DNA with Shawn’s, because if John is Shawn’s son, it explains why he has been an unwilling key player in Stefano’s whole game!”

“It explains why he’s The Pawn,” Bo said sadly. 

Chapter 19

**Trigger Warning – Memories of miscarriage.**

Isla Tortuga, Mexico

The bathroom tile was cool against Marlena’s fevered face. She struggled to sit up, and push her hair from her cheek, as another powerful cramp tore through her abdomen. Glancing around herself in confusion, she realized that she was in John’s bathroom at the loft. Unsure of how she got there, she clutched at her midriff feeling the ache inside her grow stronger, and she cried out, “Not again! I can’t do this again!”

Was she losing another baby? Why was she in John’s loft? She struggled to remove her clothing, feeling the fabric tangle around her legs, and the warm stickiness of blood as it coated her inner thighs. “No! No!” she cried helplessly. “No! Not again! John!”

But he didn’t come, and then suddenly, she was in her bathroom, in Salem, and in her palm she held the smallest baby she had ever seen. Guilt washed over her like a tsunami. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” she sobbed to the small bundle in her hand. Every single manifestation of blame for the death of her child fell on her shoulders as she collapsed onto herself, clutching the bloody mass as if she could will it back to life. “It’s my fault…G-d! I’m so sorry!”

John woke from his sleep to see Marlena stumble from the bed. She collapsed in the middle of the floor, screaming. She was staring at her hands, as if she held something small, and she was sobbing. Her words were choked, being wrenched from her body with the force of her emotions. He wrestled with the blankets, kicking them from his body, and rushed to her on the floor. She was trapped in a dream.

“Doc,” John said softly. “Marlena, baby, wake up.”

Suddenly John was there in her bathroom, on the floor with her. His arms enveloped her in warmth, and she reached for him, gripping his shoulders, and pulled him closer. She saw the blood from her hands smear across the broad expanse of his chest and she screamed, “Where is she?” The baby was gone, her hand was empty.

John smoothed his hand over her face, saying softly, over, and over again, “Baby, wake up…”

Falling against him, she felt herself being pulled into wakefulness, as she whispered, “I can’t…I can’t…I can’t….”

Her eyes opened, and still she cried. She was so caught up in the loss of their child that even though she knew she had miscarried more than two years ago, it felt as if it had just happened. Marlena allowed herself to be held, resting her tear stained cheek against John’s bare chest. She began to speak without much thought. The words flowed from her, and she whispered, “I was pregnant, and I lost our baby.”

John thought she was talking about her dream, and he said gently, “It was just a dream, Doc. Just a dream.”

Barely able to breath, she sobbed, “It wasn’t a dream…I was pregnant, and I lost her. I held her tiny body in my hand and I buried her under our tree in the backyard.” Her words came out in spasms, as she said, “It’s my fault. I was scared…I didn’t–I didn’t go to the doctor–I–I thought I had time…I–I couldn’t tell Roman, and I…” Marlena’s voice trailed off, even as she continued to cling to John, threading her fingers through the hair on his chest.

The gravity of what she was saying slowly registered in his own sleep-addled mind. She’d gotten pregnant, that night, on Victor’s plane. That’s why, when he spoke to her on her birthday in October, she’d sounded so sad, because by then, she would have been nearing her due date. “Doc,” John said softly. “Hey, baby…” He brushed his fingers softly over her face, holding her against him tightly. He wasn’t sure what to say, or what to ask, but he needed her to know, he wasn’t angry. He didn’t blame her. “I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Marlena looked up at him, anguish etching her features, “How can you hold me? How can you still look at me? I–I–our baby…I was ashamed, and I kept putting off telling Roman. I was stressed…I was so afraid he would find out, and I didn’t know what to do…I blame myself. If I’d gone to the doctor…maybe, if I’d called you, or told Roman.”

“I put you in that situation,” he told her softly. “I didn’t use protection…I left Salem. I blame myself because you went through it alone, but I don’t blame you.” He kissed her forehead gently, “I could never blame you.”

Marlena was quiet for several moments. She closed her eyes, and rested heavily against him, taking deep breaths of air that smelled of tropical flowers, mixed with a scent that was distinctly John. When she did speak, she said, “It was in early April. Sami and Eric were asleep…and Roman was on a stake out. I–I didn’t know what to do. I started to panic, because I couldn’t…I couldn’t allow her little body to slide down the drain…I put her in a wooden box…the one you bought me in Tahiti.”

John stroked her face, kissing her forehead, “The jewelry box. I remember.” It was small, and hand carved from sandalwood. They had been strolling through an outdoor market when it caught Marlena’s eye. Nothing more than a small trinket he’d thought at the time, but it had made her so happy.

“I buried her in the roots of the tree you planted in the backyard when we got married,” she said softly. John could feel her tears falling on his arm, and it nearly broke his heart when she said, “I thought, if she was there, it would be like being in your arms.”

He kissed the top of her head, “I would have come home…I shouldn’t have left…”

“I should have told you…I shouldn’t have been so scared.” 

Marlena’s hand slid up John’s chest, and anchored around his neck. He heard her soft sigh, and felt the heat of her breath against his skin, and he had to hold back the shiver of want that threatened to quake his body. His other arm, wrapped more snugly around her hips, feeling her warmth through the soft cotton of the nightgown she wore. He couldn’t control the way his skin pebbled under her palm. “I’m so tired,” she sighed.

For the second time that night, John lifted Marlena into his arms and carried her towards the bed. Near the window he slowed, entranced by the play of the moonlight over her face. Her soft skin had him wanting to touch her, and caress her cheek. Her lips had him wanting…John shook his head and continued a path towards the bed. She stared up at him, “I wish I hadn’t lost her. I wish I had been able to hold onto that piece of you…even if it destroyed my marriage. I wanted that baby…your baby.”

John laid her on the bed, staring at her rounded curves before sliding in behind her. He pulled the blankets over them, and rested his head in the palm of his hand, looking down at her. The thought of a child with Marlena, had his heart racing and his stomach tightening. “I’m sorry you went through it alone,” he whispered. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could reach out to me.”

She stroked her fingers along his stubbled jaw, as if she had to maintain contact with his skin to stay grounded, “I couldn’t. I knew, I–I would have begged you to come back to me. I would have begged you to come back to Salem, and you would have come. I know you would have. It wasn’t fair to you, because I was with Roman, and I couldn’t even pull myself together enough to make a doctor’s appointment or tell Roman about us…making love on the plane.”

“Doc…the thought of you going through that alone–”

“I couldn’t call you, John. I couldn’t,” she whispered. “I came home that night, after you’d made love to me, and–and I walked into a surprise party. It was my anniversary to Roman…and I’d completely forgotten. I spent the next few hours pasting a smile on my face, while I died inside.”

“G-d, Doc…I’m sorry…”

“I don’t regret it,” she said softly. “I’ll never regret it, but I knew you had left to save my marriage. Roman kept looking at me with so much love in his eyes, and I felt like a horrible person, because I couldn’t love him like that. I couldn’t love him the way I did before…you.”

John shivered when her fingernail caught his bottom lip, and a soft moan rumbled in his chest. Marlena was touching him as if they’d never been apart. She was so lost in her story…so lost in that night.

“When we went to bed, Roman wanted to make love. He kissed me until we were both breathless. I wanted so badly to feel something. I was desperate to feel something. A spark of passion. Desire. Anything. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t even make love to him that night. I was awake for hours after Roman had fallen asleep. I remember staring at the ceiling, knowing that your plane was somewhere over the Atlantic, and I whispered goodbye to you, right as I laid next to Roman.”

John laid his head down on the pillow, and Marlena snuggled into him, resting her cheek against him, inhaling his scent. Her fingers absently played with the hair on his chest.

“I missed this,” she whispered. “I missed laying with you in the dark, and talking…about our day or the children. I missed the way you smell…”

“Those are some of my fondest memories, Doc.”

“You were my best friend.”

John ran the tip of his nose along her cheek, “I can still be your best friend.” 

“I don’t think you can,” she told him, staring up into his dark eyes. Her breath stuttered and her heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t bring herself to say why out loud.

John knew what she wasn’t saying. They were more than friends. They could never, would never, be able to be best friends again. There would always be another layer to their relationship. “I wish you weren’t right,” he whispered. “I wish I could be in your life, and be your confidant…I wish you could always know that I will be here for you no matter what…but I can’t, because every time I look at you, I want to brush the soft strands of hair from your cheek…I want to brush my thumb over your lips…I want to kiss you…G-d, Doc…even now, when I should be comforting you, I want to remember what your mouth feels like on mine…I want to taste you.”

Marlena’s breath stuttered, “John…”

“Can I kiss you, Doc? Just so I can remember what you taste like?”

Marlena smiled. He still didn’t remember their time together on Baliceaux. He didn’t realize he’d already kissed her. The softest, gentlest kiss. The kind that left her vibrating low in her belly, and craving more. “You kissed me on Baliceaux. The night you found me…you kissed me.”

John pulled her closer, resting his head facing hers on the pillow. Their foreheads touched, and he was overwhelmed with her nearness, “I wish I remembered.”

Marlena lifted herself up onto her elbow, and leaned forward, whispering, “It was something like this…”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Marlena & Roman Brady Residence

Roman sat at his kitchen table with a mug of hot black coffee between his hands and sighed with frustration. Kim had gone and given Carrie her old apartment without even asking him. He didn’t feel like Carrie was anywhere near ready to move out. His sister loudly disagreed. 

“Kimmy!” he yelled. “Carrie isn’t ready to be on her own! She can’t even remember to wash her own dishes after she eats!”

“Maybe, if you stopped treating her like a child and gave her an opportunity to be an adult, she could show you what she’s capable of!” Kim yelled back. “She’s not six years old, Roman!”

Kim’s words struck a chord. She was right, of course. Carrie wasn’t a child. She wasn’t the child he’d left behind when he’d abandoned his family to go on an ISA job searching for Stefano DiMera. 

He watched the steam rise up from his mug, and considered the last recording Stefano had sent. Roman had a sinking suspicion that Marlena and John had figured out what he and Isabella had done in Mexico. Of course they did. He had a momentary twinge of guilt recalling the look of absolute pain on Marlena’s face when she‘d seen John with Isabella the following morning. 

“It turned out fine,” Roman mumbled aloud, trying to convince himself of his words. “Marlena is happy with me, and when I bring her home…everything will be fine.” 

But even as Roman spoke the words aloud, he knew deep down that things would never be the same. When they had traveled back to Salem together after Mexico, he felt overwhelming joy at the chance to start over, but he’d kept seeing Marlena’s face after her conversation with John. He’d watched her sleep on the plane, and even then her face seemed sad. He had no idea what Marlena and John had discussed inside her hut, all Roman knew…all he cared about was that they’d said goodbye. 

He stared into his lukewarm mug of coffee, and he whispered, “Everything will be fine…” But Roman knew, even as he spoke the words that he wasn’t being honest with himself . If Marlena and John realized what he and Isabella had done in Mexico, his trust with his wife would be shattered forever. He also couldn’t get the sound of Marlena’s voice out of his head. The sadness in her voice when she said, Happy is subjective. What the hell did that mean? It left him feeling hollow inside, almost unsettled. Coming home from Mexico, Roman had very easily pushed Marlena’s past with John aside, content to tell himself that she had chosen him. Now he was learning about events, he’d never cared to know. Carrie’s kidnapping…John had gone after her, at great risk to himself. John loved Carrie as his own, and Roman had refused to give it any validity for years. 

If Marlena was realizing what he’d done. If she was realizing how he had intentionally manipulated her in Mexico, what else were she and John discussing? What else might he learn about them? It wasn’t a question of if he would find her. Roman knew Stefano well enough to know that the game had an endpoint. The question became, when he found her, what would he find? Would she be the woman he married, the woman he loved? Or would she be someone else? 

He picked up a photo from the table, and stared at it. Marlena stood before John in her hut in Mexico. Their fingers were laced together, and both of them were crying. To a stranger looking at that photo they would see sadness, but Roman saw more. He saw despair, desire, helplessness, sadness, love, and grief. He had done that. He and Isabella had manipulated both of them, and never thought twice about it. In his hand, Roman held the fallout from those choices, and it didn’t look like two people saying goodbye.

Chapter 20

February 1993

Marlena & Roman Brady Residence

Carrie opened the front door of the house, and stepped inside, shaking the water from her coat. The house was crowded with family and friends scuttling about trying to decorate for the anniversary party her father was throwing for Marlena. Sami came running over and whispered conspiratorily, “Did you find Daddy?”

The small girl was still calling John, Daddy, as long as she was out of earshot of Roman, and it made Carrie sad. John would always be their daddy, no matter how much Roman wished otherwise. Kneeling down, she smiled at her little sister, and said sadly, “No. I’m sorry, his plane left already.”

Eric sidled up beside them, sniffling, “Daddy left? I thought–I thought maybe he wouldn’t leave.”

Sami’s face scrunched up in anger, and she said, “He said he loved us! You don’t leave if you love people!”

At nine years old, the twins couldn’t understand the complexity of adult emotions. Carrie barely understood them herself. She understood her sister’s anger, and her brother’s sadness, but she also knew what she’d just seen at the airport, what she’d walked away from. She was only beginning to understand that. Carrie found herself looking at Marlena and John, not through the lens of a child, but through the lens of a young woman. They were still in love, and that’s why he was leaving. It had nothing to do with EcoSystems. She knew that now. Gently, she said to the twins, “He’ll come back some day. He just–he has to do this for Isabella.”

“Isabella’s dead!” Sami said in childlike anger. “She won’t even know what he’s doing!”

Roman stepped out of the kitchen, and saw Carrie kneeling in front of Eric and Sami, deep in conversation. “Hey! Carrie!” he said. “Were you able to catch John before his flight took off?”

Carrie prepared herself for the lie she was about to tell, and then lifted her head, “No, Dad. I’m sorry. The plane had already taken off.” She saw the disappointment in Roman’s face, and said more quietly, so Sami and Eric couldn’t hear her, “I know why you wanted him here…and I’m glad he’s gone already.”

Roman was surprised at the vehemence in Carrie’s voice, and tried to backpedal, “What? No, Carrie. You’ve got it all wrong.” But it was too late, and he knew it. He’d already allowed her to see his undisguised emotions, and she’d recognized them for what they were. Jealousy. One-upmanship. It was better that John had left Salem already. Roman had only sent Carrie after him to prove a point. Roman’s ability, in the end, to hold Marlena in his arms while John watched. A chance for Roman to prove, Marlena had chosen him. 

It was more than an hour and a half later, when Marlena opened the front door to her darkened home, completely unaware of her anniversary. She was still broken from her last moments with John, and she pulled over twice on the way home because her flowing tears had blurred her eyes. She was almost grateful that everyone seemed to be out, because she wasn’t sure she could handle interaction right then. With plans to go upstairs and take a long shower, she pushed the door wide. She was unprepared for the resounding cries of “Surprise”. Marlena’s already frazzled nerves broke, and she shrieked in fear. 

Roman, thinking the surprise was a huge success, ran forward wiping the tears from her face, and said, “Oh, Doc! We didn’t mean to scare you! Happy anniversary.” He wrapped her in his arms, kissing her softly on her mouth, unknowing that she’d kissed another man with those same lips less than twenty minutes before.

Marlena was dazed, still reeling from her goodbye with John. She’d completely forgotten her anniversary to Roman, having spent the whole day caught up in her emotions. She forced everything she felt down, into the deepest parts of her mind. The part where all of her love for John resided. For so long, Marlena had refused to acknowledge it, keeping her emotions in a tight little box. Being in the pit with him, being in such close proximity, and having conversations that they’d failed to have in Mexico, had opened it all back up. Making love to John, meant it was impossible to force those feelings back inside. She smiled at Roman wanly, “Happy anniversary, Roman.”

“You’re upset about John?” Roman asked her with bitterness. Wanting her to know that he’d attempted to reach John, he stepped back, and said more loudly, so the family around them could hear, “I sent Carrie to the airport, but his plane had already left.”

Marlena immediately looked over at Carrie with a sharp glance, unable to school the fear from her eyes. She didn’t say anything. Carrie wanted to calm her as quickly as she could. In a rush she mumbled,  “His plane had already left.”

“When was this?” Marlena asked softly. Carrie was lying. The girl had gotten exceptionally good at it over the year since Roman’s return. Carrie shrugged her shoulders almost imperceptibly, and looked down at the carpet.

Roman didn’t notice the interplay between his wife and daughter, saying carelessly, “About an hour and a half ago. Where have you been? I called your office. They said you left hours ago.”

An hour and a half? Marlena’s eyes locked with Carrie again for a moment. Carrie had lied for her. She knew Marlena was with John, but she hadn’t said a word. Looking at Roman, Marlena said softly, “I had to stop by the Free Clinic near the pier. They had a patient in crisis…” She needed to get away. Away from this party, and away from Roman. If only to gather her thoughts and return not feeling so utterly adrift. “I’m going to go–I’m going to shower and change. I wish I’d known about this–”

“–Doc! You look fine!” Roman said loudly. Turning to face the partygoers in their home he gestured towards her rumpled pink outfit. The same one that had been tossed carelessly on the floor of Victor’s plane. “Doesn’t she look great?”

Sami ran up to her mother excitedly, “Carrie and Eric and me…we made the cake! It’s chocolate, and we wrote happy anniversary on it…well, it’s kinda messy, but Carrie says, that don’t matter ‘cause it tastes the same.”

Eric chimed in, “Yeah! It tastes the same!”

Marlena wiped the tears from her face, and attempted to rein in her emotions. She grasped Sami and Eric’s small hands in hers, and said, “Show me this wonderful cake.” Having some time alone would have to wait. She had to hold herself together until the party was over.

Carrie stood alone near the fireplace and watched Marlena, the woman who was more her mother than Anna ever would be. It was obvious to Carrie that Marlena was struggling to stay calm and hold herself together. Carrie wasn’t sure how she was doing it, when she was feeling on the brink herself, remembering what she’d walked in on less than two hours earlier.

Carrie stepped into the small cabin at the rear of the plane carefully. Her shoes were slippery, and her coat was soaked through. The patter of fat raindrops pounded the body of the airplane outside. She’d run into the pilot in the airport terminal, and he’d told her to go ahead to the plane, since the flight was delayed due to weather. Inside the plane, voices were coming from the main cabin and she realized quickly that Marlena was in there with John. Carrie sidled up to the doorway, and heard Marlena’s strangled words, “Oh, G-d, that’s so pathetic!…It didn’t have to happen, I wanted it to happen. I really wanted to love you.” Then, Carrie heard Marlena whisper, barely discernible, “I do love you.” 

Marlena was in love with John? Still? Carrie stepped closer to the doorway, trying to hear more of the conversation without revealing herself. 

“And now I’m driving you away,” Marlena said.

“It’s the only way out,” John said quietly.

“Is it? I–I–I don’t know that. I don’t know that. I…I also don’t know that…if…at some point in my life I’m going to…stop having these feelings that I have for you–”

“Yeah…yes, in time…that’s all…”

“Will I?” Marlena sobbed quietly. “It’s just…you’re so much a part of my life…I don’t know what I…I don’t know what I would do…if you weren’t…”

Carrie, unable to hold herself back any longer, peeked her head so that she could see what was happening. What she saw was heartbreaking. Marlena sat on a small sofa, tears streaking down her face, while John faced her, sitting on a small table. She saw him lean forward and try to reassure Marlena that his choice to leave was the best course of action for both of them. Carrie was surprised to hear Marlena cry out and throw her hands up in frustration, but she was even more surprised to hear John’s next words shouted in equal frustration.

“I’m past that, Doc! I’m free-falling! With just the idea that I am never going to see you again. I am never going to hear you laugh…I’m never going to smell your perfume, and I’m never going to touch you.” Carrie had never seen either of them so heated…so emotional. 

She watched John’s hand slide over Marlena’s knee, gripping her thigh, and she felt a flutter in her belly when Marlena’s head fell back, and she cried softly, “Oh, G-d!”

Carrie knew she should leave. This was going in a direction that was not meant for anyone else’s eyes. John gripped the lapels of Marlena’s coat, pulling her to the edge of the couch. He flipped the button open at her neck. Carrie couldn’t break away from the scene in front of her. In all her young life she’d never seen such unbridled passion, except in movies. She was frozen, watching as John stared into Marlena’s eyes, “Tell me what you want, Doc… Tell… me… what… you… want.”

Marlena’s head fell back, and she said, “Oh, G-d!”

It was when John licked up the column of Marlena’s neck that Carrie shuffled back quickly, feeling her belly clench low and tight, and turned toward the exit. The last words she heard were John’s pleading, “Tell me, Doc…baby…please! I need to hear it…I need to hear it.”

And Marlena choked out, “I want you.”

Carrie stared as her father pulled Marlena into his arms, and Caroline started the music. She didn’t know what happened on the plane after she left, but when her eyes caught Marlena’s again over her father’s shoulder, she had an idea. There was guilt there, riddled with something else…defiance, maybe? Marlena didn’t look the same. Something had changed her. Carrie looked away. She wasn’t angry at Marlena. She’d never understood why John came home with Isabella in the first place. Carrie had always assumed it was because Isabella was pregnant. Either way, she’d known for over a year that the emotions between John and Marlena weren’t settled. She saw it every time they were in a room together. She saw it in soft touches and hugs that lasted a fraction too long. 

Roman held his wife in his arms snugly, and he whispered in Marlena’s ear, “Do you remember this song, Doc?”

Marlena remembered every song that used to be her and Roman’s. What she couldn’t control was the fact that those songs no longer belonged to her and Roman. Over time, in her memories…submersed in her emotions, those songs had become her and John’s songs. Lyrics of love, and tenderness, that no longer made her think of Roman. Instead they had her imagining John’s hands on her bare skin. John’s lips on hers, different places, and different times. But there was no way to explain that to Roman, not without hurting him badly.

Closing her eyes, she could still feel the burn in her nipples from the pull of John’s teeth. She could still feel the throb in her center, and the feel of his fingers pushing deep. She tried to shut it all down, but the lyrics pulled it to the forefront of her mind. I’ve hungered, hungered for your touch, A long, lonely time, And time goes by so slowly, And time can do so much, Are you still mine?, I need your love. She rested her head on Roman’s shoulder, and squeezed her eyes, allowing the myriad of emotions to settle in her mind. She pretended she was in John’s arms, because losing him might destroy her.

When the song was over, Marlena lifted her tear stained eyes to Roman and he smiled, “Awww, Doc.” He lifted his hand, using his thumb to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “You know, this song is pretty special to me too.”

She couldn’t respond. She felt like she was dying inside. John’s plane was probably nearing the Atlantic at that moment, and all she could wish for was to be in his arms. Instead, she stood in her living room, wrapped in Roman’s.

Chapter 21

Isla Tortuga, Mexico

The dining room was done in over polished hardwoods. The color scheme was dark and heavy, like every home Stefano possessed. Dinner had been served on pristinely polished silver platters. Stefano was consistent when it came to home decor. John sat at the end of the table watching him with distrust. They had been eating their meals with Stefano everyday since John was taken in Baliceaux, but he could sense that something was off, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe it was the way Mason hovered in the corner, as if he were waiting on something to happen, or possibly it was the way Stefano watched Marlena take every single bite of food. It was only when Marlena finished her last bite with a yawn, that John looked sharply at Stefano, noting the man’s smug expression. But it was too late. 

“What did you do?” John demanded, watching Marlena look at him with a dazed, sleepy expression. Her head started to loll, and John was up instantly, holding her upright, as he knelt beside her. She fell into him with a soft sigh, her head resting in the curve of his neck. She had gone from yawning to complete unconsciousness in less than a minute. John wanted to roar in frustration. They’d gotten too trusting, too complacent, and Stefano had used it to his advantage.

“Your friends are getting close this time,” Stefano said. “I need to be somewhere, and you need to be moved to another location. John, we both know you’re much more cooperative when Marlena is helpless.”

“You fucking lousy bastard,” John replied, cradling her body in his arms. He stood up, lifting Marlena’s prone form with him. No one would take her from him. Keeping his eyes on Stefano, but still aware of Mason standing in the corner of the room, John backed up. “Why didn’t you drug us both?”

“Marlena consumed enough of the drug to be sedated for the next eighteen hours. Wherever she goes, you will follow. If you are anything, John, you are loyal.” Stefano turned to Mason, “Follow John to his suite. I want them both fitted with the tracking devices I gave you earlier. Make sure they cannot be removed.”

“Where are you moving us?” John demanded.

Stefano chuckled, “Aren’t you excited by your trip down memory lane, John? I thought I would leave your next destination as a surprise for you both.”

Memory lane? But then John realized he had been in Baliceaux with Marlena, when Carrie was kidnapped, and Stefano was using the pagoda as a trigger. He could barely remember it. Mexico was a given. He knew exactly why Stefano had brought them there. Stefano planned on sending them somewhere else significant to the two of them. Immediately he thought of Orpheus’ island, but he couldn’t be certain. Tahiti was another possibility. His whole focus would have to be on the women he currently held in his arms, and Stefano knew that. John wouldn’t try to run, or do anything else impulsive, if it risked Marlena’s safety. Giving Stefano a look of derision, John turned, and walked out of the ornate dining room.  

Mason turned to follow them, but he stopped when he heard Stefano call him. “Yes, sir?”

“I want my directions followed exactly,” Stefano told him. “I’ve seen the way you look at Marlena Evans. Don’t feel pity for her. Marlena is nothing more than collateral damage. A rook in the game. Easily lost, and having no great impact on the outcome.”

Mason nodded his head, and left the dining room. He tried to stay emotionally withdrawn, but that was becoming harder to do, everytime Stefano forced him to watch videos of the two of them together. He constantly inquired about what they spoke of, or the things they might do during their long days together. Mason reported, the way he was supposed to, but he wanted no part of it. Forcing him to study them personally was forging an emotional connection he couldn’t afford to have. It was easier to follow orders and stay detached when he had little to no interaction with the people whom Stefano toyed with. Something was different about John and Marlena, and Mason found it all confusing. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Marlena and Roman Brady Residence

The newest package from Stefano sat on Roman’s dining room table next to a cassette player. It had arrived like all of the others, a personal courier with no return address, although this one had been postmarked Mexico City. After opening it, he’d been staring at it for nearly fifteen minutes, scared of what it might reveal. Stefano’s last recording left Roman feeling raw and vulnerable. Two emotions he would rather not feel in front of a room full of his family and friends. Feeling vulnerable made him angry. It took away his control, and having been Stefano’s prisoner for seven years, Roman fought an emotional war with himself daily to maintain a sense of control. 

Slowly he reached for the cassette, turning the cool plastic over in his fingers. A nondescript, unlabeled cassette tape. Swallowing thickly, and taking a deep breath, he placed it in the player, and closed the lid with a snap. Whether he was ready or not, it didn’t matter. Roman pushed the play button, and listened to several seconds of silent static before he heard John’s voice.

John: The last time you looked like this, I was saying goodbye to you at the airport. After the storm, when the rain was nothing more than a mist that had settled into your hair.

Marlena: I remember.

Hitting the pause button heavily, Roman stared at the cassette player. How was it that two sentences, with so few words, said so much? He wanted to smash it. Pound it to smithereens with his fist, because he had a sinking feeling he knew what was coming. Marlena had gone to the airport the night John left Salem, very likely in a last ditch attempt to stop him from leaving. Slowly, Roman reached his hand forward and hit the play button with a sick foreboding feeling in his gut.

John: I left for Italy that night, and when I got there, you consumed my every thought. I would dream of my hands on your body, and the sounds of your passion in my ear. Every night I dreamt that you were back in my arms on the couch in Victor’s plane–

Marlena: John… We shouldn’t talk about this.

Roman pushed the pause button again, feeling sick. That night. The night John left, was the night he’d planned the anniversary party for Marlena. She’d said she was late coming home because of a patient. She’d cried in his arms while they danced, and he’d naively believed she was remembering their love. He’d tried to make love that night, and assumed she couldn’t because she was overwhelmed over John leaving. She was overwhelmed with John leaving, but it was more than that. So much more. Even as the stark truth came over him, he heard John’s voice, full of pain and pleading, “back in my arm’s on the couch in Victor’s plane…”. 

Roman stared at the cassette player. If he hit play, he knew it would likely destroy him. That’s what Stefano wanted after all. Taking a deep breath, Roman started the tape again. 

John: I left…but all I wanted was for you to beg me to stay… There were so many times when I found myself packing my bags, ready to head back to Salem, because I wanted to taste you again…I wanted to sink into your depths, and wrap you in my arms. It was torture. Allowing ourselves to make love that night might have been the worst choice.

Marlena: I don’t regret it. I have lived on the memory of you making love to me. That night…John, that night is something I will never regret.

John: I got to Italy, and I was in so much pain. The desire to come back to you was so strong…I threw myself into another relationship immediately. I was desperate. Not to forget you, because I could never forget you, but I needed  a distraction… I’m married.

Marlena: You called me that October… For my birthday.

John: I was married in May.

Marlena: You never said.

John: Maybe…maybe, I couldn’t tell you because I wished it weren’t true. It’s…I married Rebecca.

Marlena: Rebecca? You married Rebecca Morrison?

Roman could hear the anguish in Marlena’s voice. Why would John’s marriage to Rebecca bother her so much? It was silent for a long moment, and Roman heard rustling. He could imagine her looking for a way out of the conversation. That’s what she did, when she was overwhelmed, and unable to face a conversation. She tried to avoid it if it hurt too much, which Roman had always found ironic, since her job was to help people process their deepest hurts. 

John: Doc, don’t run from this please!

Marlena: Rebecca isn’t right for you!

John: And you are? You pushed me away, Doc! You pushed me away, and I didn’t think I would survive it! You have to understand that!… Doc…Doc, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed, and fought for you. I wanted you to fight for me…

Marlena:  How could I? How could I disrupt my whole life for you…when I thought I was your second choice?

The tape ended, and it took every ounce of restraint Roman had to keep himself from tossing the table, and breaking the chairs that surrounded him. His hand shook as he removed the cassette from the player in front of him. No one could hear this. His heart was torn wide open, and he felt betrayed and lied to. But a small part of him acknowledged Marlena’s last words. She’d believed she was John’s second choice. She believed it, because of what he and Isabella had done to them in Mexico. He couldn’t deny that. In a way, Roman believed that the pain he was suffering was manifested by his own lies, but another, larger part, felt cheated. He was cheated from the life he should have had by Stefano, by John…and by Marlena.

Roman glanced around hurriedly, looking for a place to stash the tape. Digging through the breakfast hutch, Roman snatched out a round, flower covered hat box. He lifted the lid, and was confronted with items he recognized immediately. A sweater he’d seen on Marlena in the collection of photos they’d found in Baliceaux. Soft cashmere, lined in yellow, white, and black. Roman could see it in his mind’s eyes on Marlena, as she looped her arms around John’s neck, biting his ear.  Marlena’s wedding photo to John was in the box, as well as the charm bracelet John had given her for Christmas right before he left Salem that February. There were other things Roman didn’t recognize at all. A collection of acorns, a white bandana with black paisley print, a river rock…he didn’t understand most of it. Shoving the cassette on top of the pile, Roman placed the lid on the box, and shoved it back inside the cabinet. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Isla Tortuga, Mexico

Begrudgingly holding his leg out, John allowed Mason to fit what was very obviously a tracker onto his ankle; however, John was also aware of the metal sensors along the inside, sitting directly on his skin. He was being fitted with the equivalent of a shock collar, as if he were a dog. Sarcastically, John muttered, “I’m guessing Stefano wants to make damn sure Doc and I don’t go anywhere, huh?”

Mason didn’t respond, instead giving John a grunt, leaving him to make his own interpretations. Mason glanced up, his eyes locking with John’s, and John was transported somewhere else. To another time, and another place.

A much younger Mason leaned over him. His hair was longer, black waves covering most of his forehead, and he was cradling John’s  foot in his lap. A child’s foot. “Stai crescendo velocemente, Giovanni. Dovrai imparare ad allacciarti le scarpe, [You are growing fast, Giovanni. You are going to have to learn to tie your own shoes.]”

John, aware that in this memory he was very young, replied in a childish, high-pitched voice, “Papi, ci ho provato, ma continuo a sbagliare! Inoltre, lo fai al meglio. [Papi, I tried, but I keep doing it wrong! Besides, you do it the best.]”

The memory came and went so fast, that it left John almost gasping for air. He continued to stare at Mason in confusion, finally asking him in Italian, “Cosa sai della tua vita prima di Stefano? [What do you know of your life before Stefano?]”

Mason dropped John’s leg as if his flesh burned him. Again, he got the quickest flash of an image in his mind of a scrawny boy with bright blue eyes, and wavy black hair. It was disconcerting, and left him feeling hollow, as if he were missing something significant, and he couldn’t remember what it was. He said nothing, instead reaching for the device he would fit to Marlena’s ankle.

John was quiet, as he continued to watch Mason carefully, willing himself to remember more. He couldn’t, but he knew that when Marlena woke, he would tell her. He would recall every detail, and she would help him figure it out. Mason was a part of his past, and Mason played a part in Stefano’s game. A part John didn’t understand. Mason was in the same predicament, except he didn’t even know he was a player. Mason’s memory was wiped, leaving him a shell of the man he once was. If anyone could help John figure it out, it would be Marlena. 

Chapter 22

Isla Tortuga, Mexico

There hadn’t been any temperature or movement readings on Stefano’s Isla Tortuga compound in over an hour, which left Shane, as well as Bo, feeling that their rescue attempt was futile. Stefano had anticipated them again, and this time it was by a mere few hours. Even as Shane gave the order to move in, he knew that John and Marlena wouldn’t be located. 

Bo found himself equally frustrated, standing in the empty foyer of the large house. Over his head were high ceilings in a rounded dome. Dark, polished woods were everywhere. The walls were mounted with them midway from the floor, and the entryway had a huge polished table with a flower arrangement that was less than fresh. The house was completely abandoned. Bo sighed in frustration, “Why the fucking cat and mouse?”

“I believe that what Shawn told us about his past with Stefano, and Stefano’s motives for targeting the Brady’s plays a key factor,” Shane said, pulling a bandana from his pocket and wiping his brow. The heat was extraordinary, and the winds seemed to have changed direction bringing in a humidity that made it difficult to breathe. “Stefano will continue to move them in an effort to taunt Shawn…because ultimately, Shawn is the target. In a game of chess, Shawn would be the opposing king.”

“What are you saying?”

“That while the key players seem to be Roman, John, and Marlena…ultimately this is about Shawn.”

“Shit,” Bo replied in frustration.

Shane started heading towards the wide staircase, “We may end up where this all started, Bo.”

Bo stared at Shane, following him with his eyes, while the truth of his words dawned on him, “Back in Ireland.”

“I’m inclined to believe so. In the meantime, all we can do is follow the clues, and you and I both know…there’s one here. We just have to find it.”

Shane continued to head up the stairs. In Baliceaux the clue was in the bedroom, and he believed it would be there in this instance as well. Stefano was intentionally taunting Roman with the idea of John and Marlena being held together. He was taunting Roman with their past, their connections…and their intimacy. And while nothing overt had come to light, Shane wondered if it would. He’d been witness to the deep faith, loyalty, and love that John and Marlena shared. They wouldn’t give up on each other, and living in close confines, under this type of threat, while Stefano played with their minds and their hearts, Shane worried that it would only be a matter of time.

Bo ran to catch up with Shane, “Where we going, governor?”

“The last clue at Baliceaux was in the bedroom. That’s where we start,” Shane replied over his shoulder.

Thinking like Stefano was the only way they could start trying to get ahead of the clues. Bo thought about the photos they’d found in Baliceaux, and the recordings that Stefano had sent. Even the fact that Stefano had taunted Roman with the idea that John might also be searching for Marlena. All of it designed to create distrust, vulnerability, and apprehension within Roman in regards to his relationship with his wife. Putting clues in the bedrooms where Marlena and John had been housed…rooms that contained one bed, and one bathroom, even those had subliminal messages. Bo remembered the devastation in Roman’s eyes as he’d stared at the bed in Baliceaux. He knew that Marlena and John had been sharing a bed. Neither one of them would allow the other to sleep in a chair or on the floor. Roman very likely imagined the two of them wrapped in each other’s arms while they slumbered. It wasn’t a far cry for Bo to imagine the same thing. 

Generally in these types of situations, Marlena was a huge help. She could get into Stefano’s mind like a mole, and ferret out exactly what the man’s motives were. As it stood, Bo felt that he and Shane, along with everyone else, were going to have to change the way they approached every clue. Stefano’s ultimate goal was to hurt Shawn. If John was Shawn’s son, and Stefano managed to manipulate John and Marlena, to the point that they acted on their emotions, it would destroy Roman. It would cause ripples throughout the whole family, giving Stefano DiMera exactly what he wanted before he delivered his final blow. Whatever that might be. 

Bo was silent as he followed Shane into the last room at the end of a long hallway. The room had obviously been abandoned in a hurry. Nothing remained except a large rolled piece of paper, resembling a poster, which had been carefully placed in the center of the bed. Just as Bo started to approach the bed, he noticed something on the floor, tucked under the corner of a chair by the window. 

Crouching down, Bo pulled out a tattered copy of Moby Dick, “What the hell is this here for?”

Shane stared over Bo’s shoulder for a moment, “I bet Stefano has no idea this was left behind.”

Flipping through the pages, Bo realized that the book was a testament left by John. A book that John seemed to find comfort in as he found correlations between his own growing loss of memory and Stefano’s descent into madness. A piece of a page had been torn out, and used as a bookmark, and on was a simple quote that struck a chord, “What I’ve dared, I’ve willed; and what I’ve willed, I’ll do! They think me mad…but I’m demoniac, I am madness maddened! That wild madness that’s only calm to comprehend itself!”

 In John’s untidy scrawl, Bo read, “Stefano’s madness consumes him, and I am the key…but why? A man who can’t even remember his own name. Why me?”

“Bo!” Shane called from the window. “They were here!” He stood up slowly, with something small clutched in his hand. “They were definitely here.”

All Bo did was take a deep breath, and whisper “Shit,” as Shane held up Marlena’s small gold wedding band.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

A Plane Somewhere Over Arkansas

Settled into the couch on the far side of the aircraft sat John, with Marlena laying beside him. Her head rested gently on his lap, and he gently stroked her hair. The silence that filled the cabin was deafening. He stared at Anthony with hard eyes, distrust written all over his face. Mason studied the two of them intently. He knew Anthony was hot-headed, arrogant, and he had a mean streak a mile long. Mason had never liked him, and for some reason, since Marlena and John had become Stefano’s captives, Mason found he liked Anthony even less. He knew, if he wasn’t present to take the lead in moving John and Marlena to the next location, Anthony would have taken a sick sort of pleasure in making the trip as uncomfortable as possible. As it was, Anthony wouldn’t dare cross Mason. He knew what would happen if he did.

John’s eyes moved quickly away from Anthony’s hard expression, and caught Mason’s, “So, you plan on telling me where you’re taking us?”

Anthony sneered, “None of your fucking business–”

“Shut the fuck up!” Mason roared. He leaned forward and stared at the other man with eyes of granite, “I didn’t want to bring your arrogant ass with me, but Stefano took Dante with him, and I didn’t have a choice. I won’t be putting up with your bullshit!” Sitting back, Mason mumbled, “Maledetta puttana porca [Fucking pig whore].”

John immediately started laughing, understanding every word, but he said nothing, as his eyes caught Mason’s again. Mason’s eyes widened slightly, but otherwise he gave no indication that he’d even acknowledged John’s laugh.

Anthony became almost deathly silent, seething in his rage. He saw John’s glance, detecting a smugness he wanted to wipe off of his face, but he said nothing. It was only a matter of time before Mason was called away for some mission. He would simply have to bide his time. Anthony looked away, as a memory assaulted him. A quick flash of memory – Mason lifting his weapon, and shooting another of Stefano’s mercenaries in the forehead. Anthony learned that day what would happen if he ever crossed him. 

As the silent communication played out between Mason and Anthony, John studied every lift of an eyebrow, every twitch of muscle. A lot could be learned from studying the interactions between people. Anthony feared Mason, that much was obvious, but John knew as soon as the opportunity presented itself Anthony wouldn’t hesitate to lash out. If it came down to protecting Marlena, John wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.

In his lap, Marlena’s head moved, and her eyes seemed to be moving rapidly underneath her lids. She moaned softly, turning her face into his abdomen, her hand scrambling to find hold on something. John reached for her, cooing softly. He pulled her body closer, running his fingers through her hair, and whispered, “I’ve got you, Doc. I’m here with you baby.”

Even in her restless, drugged state, she murmured, “John…oh, John…”

He couldn’t help the gentle smile that played on his lips as he stared down at her, “Yeah, baby…it’s John.”

Across the plane, Mason stared at the scene before him, caught between the present and the past. 

It was a past he’d only just begun to recall, but in it, he saw a small girl on the brink of being a woman. She had long, wavy black hair, and deep blue eyes set in a heart-shaped face. She sang softly to a child in her arms, rocking back and forth. Glancing up, she looked at him, and said with a small chuckle, “Perché mi stai guardando, fratello? Non hai qualche pecora da pascolare?[Why are you watching me, brother? Don’t you have some sheep to herd?]”

Mason stood up quickly, rubbing his hands over his face, and turned to get some water. Anthony watched him shake his head, and he smirked. Mason glanced back over at John and Marlena. He caught John watching him intently, and he was assaulted with another memory.

A small dark-haired boy stared up at him from a bed that was much too large for him. Mason reached over, prepared to turn off the light and kiss him goodnight, when he asked, “Perché non ho una mamma? [Why don’t I have a mama?]”

Sighing, he’d known the question was inevitable, he simply hadn’t believed it would come so early. “Tutti hanno una madre, passerotto. [Everyone has a mother, little sparrow.]”

“Se ho una madre, dov’è papi? [If I have a mother, where is she, Papi?]”

“Giovanni, tua madre si è unita agli angeli il giorno in cui sei nato. Ha dato la sua vita per dare a te la vita. Ti ha dato i suoi capelli e i suoi occhi. Ti ha dato la sua anima gentile e la sua capacità di amare con tutto il cuore, e questo è un dono straordinario. [Your mother joined the angels the day you were born. She gave her life to give you life. She gave you her hair, and her eyes. She gave you her kind soul, and her ability to love with your whole heart, and that is an amazing gift.]”

Mason stared at John, who was focused on Marlena again, and he got another flash in his mind of a small, scrawny, blue-eyed child that looked remarkably like a much younger version of John Black. Turning on his heel he stormed towards the restroom, intent on escaping whatever was happening to him. He felt suffocated, confined, and there was no way out.

Inside the restroom, Mason turned the lock with a fierce click, and leaned his forehead against the door. Softly and with a shaky intake of air, Mason whispered, “What the fuck?”

He turned to face the mirror staring at his face, and for the first time in his existence pondered the life he might have lived before.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Isla Tortuga, Mexico

Shane and Bo spread the rolled up poster out on the bed, and stared at it with wide eyes. An obvious clue, Bo knew that John and Marlena were either in West Virginia or in Stockholm. The problem was, which one? Separated by a distance of more than 4,000 miles, Stefano knew the clue was obvious, and impossible at the same time. Bo looked up at Shane, “Well, governor…it’s Stockholm, or West Virginia.”

Shane ran his hand over the glossy black poster advertising the ballet in Stockholm. Softly he murmured, “But which one?”

“The poster advertises the ballet in Stockholm…but John found that poster in the KGB cabin in West Virginia,” Bo said. “I was with him when he found it.”

“We have to look at this from every angle. Do the dates have any significance?”

“Not really,” Bo replied. “That was back in February of ‘79. I was in the merchant marines with Steve back then.”

Shane stood up, stretching his back, “Could it have any other significance? Could Stefano be making it too obvious, and it has another meaning?”
“No,” Bo said. “No, I’m certain. It’s West Virginia or Stockholm…but I think Stockholm is too obvious.”

“So…West Virginia, you think?”

“Yeah…” he said, and then more sure of himself he said, “Yeah.”

Shane pulled the poster off of the bed, rolling it up in haste, “That was nine…almost ten years ago. I don’t even remember the exact location anymore.”

Bo walked over to stare out the window, and said, “That’s when we all thought Stefano was dead. Knowing that he wasn’t, and that he was aware of every move we were making at that time. It creeps me out. The man is sick.”

“I wonder how much of what happened during that time was implemented by him,” Shane replied. “Think about it. Marlena’s kidnapping by Orpheus…when she ended up with Stefano for five years?”

“It’s just disturbing,” Bo said. “Believing Marlena was dead, only to find out that Stefano had her the whole time.” Bo felt a thought nag at the back of his mind. A small flicker of possibility when he thought about his own deceased wife, but he pushed it down. Way down. Trying to clear his head he said, “I mean, think about it. Those photos in Baliceaux of John and Marlena when they were married? Or those photos of them together in Mexico. Stefano has the resources, there’s no denying that…but the amount of obsession that goes into that. I’m dumbfounded.”

Shane and Bo left the bedroom, as Shane said slowly, “The connection between Orpheus and Stefano…I’ve always wondered about that. How did it manifest? Roman accidentally killed Rebecca Harp in 1979. Why would Orpheus wait until 1986…nearly seven years later, to exact revenge?”

“You’re right, man. I don’t understand it either,” Bo said. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he turned to Shane. “What if…what if Stefano somehow found him? What if Milo Harp was just a man trying to raise his children after a horrible accident, and then Stefano somehow…got into his head?”

Shane was quiet for several beats, before he said, “It would change how we looked at everything. Stefano sent John to Salem intending for him to be taken in as Roman Brady. If he intentionally sent Orpheus after John, knowing he wasn’t Roman–”

“–why would he do that?” Bo asked in frustration. 

“To upset Shawn. To possibly get John killed…which would in turn hurt Shawn. Stefano probably didn’t expect that even once John was found out, the Brady family would still stay so devoted to him. That wasn’t part of the plan.”

Bo was thoughtful when he said, “John’s purpose was to come in, wreak havoc, and leave the family in pieces.”

Thinking about the current situation they found themselves in, Shane said, “That may happen…even yet.”

Chapter 23

Marlena and Roman Brady Residence

Roman Brady’s body writhed in the center of his bed, lost in a dream. A dream of lust, rage, and dark desires. His sheet and blanket entrapped him, while sweat rolled over his brow getting caught in his dark curls, and beaded on his bare chest. His cock was hard, and throbbing, breaching the constricting cotton, even as he reached for the imaginary form of his wife, and shouted, “No! Doc, no!” into the dark silence of his bedroom. 

Stefano’s dark voice came from the shadows behind him, “You are tortured by the scene before you…and yet, you can’t wait to see what he does to her body. You want to know how he touches her…and you want to know if she enjoys it.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Roman roared, staring at the glass wall in front of him. On the other side was the bedroom in Baliceaux. Marlena’s wrists were bound with a green silk scarf, as her naked, limp form hung from the canopy of the four poster bed. Stefano’s penchant for dark design set the stage for the scene, and Roman could feel his cock growing harder, even as his mind was grappling with the impossibility of what was happening. Marlena couldn’t be enjoying it. She didn’t crave those things. She wasn’t that type of woman.

Roman heard John’s voice, as he spoke to Marlena. It was full of want and passion, rough with desire. “Tell me what you want, Doc.”

Her breath was coming in ragged pants. A sound that only served to make Roman’s dick harder, as he watched John reach forward and pull roughly on her nipple.

In horror, his mind watched as John teased her flesh with slaps and rough pinches. He knew she didn’t like those things, and yet her body swayed and arched into John’s touch as if she were a cat being stroked in the most divine way. Roman felt his throat getting sore and his voice becoming hoarse as he screamed for John to leave her alone. Marlena needed to be loved, gently. Soft touches and caresses, but her head fell back, and she cried out. A keening sound of want and desire that he’d never heard her make. Was she enjoying this?

John pulled at her breast again, and Roman’s eyes scanned over Marlena’s pale flesh, noting the red marks left behind from John’s rough touch. Every pinch, every slap against her skin, and she was crying out for more. 

“Why are you doing this?” Roman croaked, turning his head in an attempt to see Stefano behind him. Why was Stefano forcing him to watch this? The pitch black of the room devoured everything, making it darker than the void of space. Roman struggled to make out the outline of Stefano’s body, but he knew he lingered back there, somewhere in the darkness.

Stefano laughed, “Maybe you don’t know your wife as well as you think you do. Maybe your dear, sweet, Marlena derives pleasure from the darker things. She certainly seems to be enjoying what my mercenary can do to her. Just watch, Roman. Watch how she craves the pull of his fingers…how she cries out for more after a stinging slap against her sensitive skin!”

“Shut up!”Roman thundered. “Shut up!”

Just then, John slapped Marlena’s breast loudly, causing her to cry out desperately, “Oh, G-d! John! Joooohn! More!”

John stepped back, admiring the blush stains across her breasts. The way her skin glowed with his ministrations. He wanted more too, so much more. “Turn around and spread your legs apart. I want them wide. I want to see your swollen pussy begging me for more.”

Breathlessly Marlena whispered, “What are you going to do?” Roman could see the apprehension on her face. She wasn’t sure about what was happening. Or was she playing? Did she really want everything that John was doing to her?

“Stop!” Roman cried while watching his wife pivot her body slowly. Did she understand what she was doing? This wasn’t like her. Roman turned his head again, searching for the man he knew was somewhere to his rear, hiding in the shadows. “This isn’t right! You drugged her, or you manipulated her mind! Marlena doesn’t…she doesn’t want these types of…” 

Roman’s voice faltered when he heard his wife sigh loudly, “Fuck yes! John!”

“What were you about to say, Roman?” Stefano asked with a laugh. “Marlena doesn’t what? Like her lovemaking a little rough? It’s possible that she does…when she’s with John.”

“You fucking lousy bastard! You’ve done something to her! She wouldn’t do this! She loves me,” Roman cried. Suddenly, his hands were free, and his legs could move. Roman leapt from his chair, running towards the only thing that separated him from his wife…a glass wall. He pounded on it as he yelled out for her, “Marlena! Doc! Stop!”

Stefano continued to laugh, “You want this to stop, and yet your body responds. Some part of you enjoys this, Roman. Watching another man make love to your wife turns you on.”

“No!” Yet, even as he denied the truth, Roman felt his engorged cock bob in the tight confines of his jeans as John knelt on the floor behind his wife. 

Marlena spread her legs wider, in anticipation of John’s touch. She craved him, and she could feel her arousal trickling down her inner thigh. “John, please…oh, G-d, please!”

She audibly sighed, when John’s large hands squeezed the back of her thighs, just above her knees. Sliding his hands up, his touch became rougher, almost painful, as he spread the cheeks of her ass, and took a deep breath, moaning, “You fucking smell so good, baby. Just like I remember.”

“G-d!” she cried, pushing her ass back towards his face.

John smirked up at her, “What do you want?”

“I want—I want your mouth on me. I want you to—lick me,” she gasped.

John spread her cheeks wider, staring at her swollen sex. With a deep growl, he tipped his head forward, licking along the length of her most private regions. Marlena’s pussy clenched, and she could feel additional moisture seeping from her folds. 

John started licking and sucking over the ring of muscle while his fingers dug into her soft flesh holding her body still. Roman slid down to the floor, dragging his fingers down the glass, while watching his wife in awe. John ate at her sex like a man starved, and Stefano’s laugh echoed around the chamber. Marlena’s cries of pleasure had Roman’s cock crying out for release, but it was Stefano’s dark words, almost in his ear, that nearly broke him.

“You can’t deny that their passion moves you,” Stefano taunted him. “Your arousal is evident.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Roman roared, feeling a mixture of explosive desire, and heartbreak. He imagined what he would do if he could get to his wife. He’d pull John away from her. He’d untie her, and soothe the redness from her skin…but another image burst into his mind. An image of John driving the length of his cock into Marlena’s wet pussy. Roman would pull John off of her, but, instead of comforting her, Roman would take her for his own, sliding into her moist heat immediately. His eyes closed, and he imagined driving the length of his cock into her forcefully, reminding her that she belonged to him.

He was shaken from his reverie by Marlena’s high pitched mewling sounds. Opening his eyes, he watched as John’s probed her ass with his fingers, stretching her wide, while Marlena, lost is a sexual haze of bliss, screamed, “Fuck! Oh, G-d, John!”

Roman’s eyes widened, and his cock throbbed so violently, that he roared, pounding his fists against the glass. He couldn’t think clearly. His rational mind was losing control, while his most primitive, animalistic tendencies fought for control. He watched as John stood up, commanding Marlena, “Open that ass for me, baby.”

Almost as if she were moving imperceptibly, suddenly her hands were free. No longer tied to the canopy, she reached back, spreading her ass wide, and she pleaded, “John! Now! Please!”

John stepped forward, wrapping an arm around her hips, and he started to slide his heavy cock into Marlena’s ass, Roman lost control. He wrenched his jeans open, pulling his cock free, even as Stefano’s laugh of derision and triumph filled the air. John growled pushing deep, and Roman spat on his hand reaching for his own cock. Tightly, almost painfully, he began to pump his length in time to John’s thrusts. Marlena fell forward into the bed, and John continued to push into her, resting his long body against her back.

Roman was lost in the vision they created. Marlena’s fingers clenched in the bedspread. Her tears of sexual release as they hit the fabric. The rage Roman felt in his own helplessness juxtapositioned with his uncontrollable yearning for release. 

The final straw, the moment that Roman was lost, was when John’s hands made their way up and over Marlena’s hips. It was the softest, gentlest touch, completely different from every touch leading up to that moment. He lifted her limp body against his as he rose up on his knees. His palms slid up and over her breasts, cupping them gently, using his grip to keep her against him. With one last push, deep, he roared his release while one of his hands dipped between Marlena’s  thighs rubbing her clit viciously. Marlena screamed her orgasm. A sound that filled the air and Roman’s mind as he continued to jerk his own dick furiously.

He watched helplessly as John leaned over Marlena’s shoulder, biting her flesh harshly, growling, “Mine.”

She stared up at him, weak from her orgasm, and ready to collapse, and she whispered back, “Yours.”

Stefano’s laugh became louder, echoing off of the dark walls. The light that had lit up John and Marlena on the other side of the glass began to fade into darkness. Roman continued to pull and tug on his cock, feeling the liquid beading at the tip begin to coat his fingers. He felt like he preferred the pain and burn of his rough palm over his length. It served a purpose, reminding him of the pain that lanced his heart, and yet the lubrication brought a sigh from his lips. Roman’s palm slapped against the dark barrier in front of him as he pictured John licking the length of his wife’s ass, and Roman screamed out his frustration and his release all over the glass, while the echo of Stefano faded into the darkness. He breathed heavily, leaning weakly against the glass and sobbed out his anguish.

Roman’s body jerked as he came into wakefulness. He could feel the coolness of the wet cotton against his skin, a combination of perspiration and his own grief marking his pillow. The fabric of his boxers stuck to his skin, with the tackiness of his own cum quickly cooling against his body. He reached his hands up abruptly, rubbing over his face, wiping his tears from his skin, and pushing his wet curls off of his forehead. He struggled to come to grips with what he’d just dreamt, feeling anger and outrage at Marlena, while understanding in wakefulness that none of it had actually occurred.

He laid there for a moment longer, his mind inundated with images from his dream. He’d never pondered what Marlena’s life was like when she lived with John. Anytime those thoughts came to him, he pushed them away, but it was becoming harder and harder to do. Once he’d known that John was with Marlena as another of Stefano’s captives it had become difficult. Finding out that his wife had been unfaithful on their anniversary, made avoiding those thoughts impossible. Roman found himself becoming increasingly angry and bitter. 

Roman wondered if, when he made love to his wife…did she imagine John’s cock sliding in and out of her heated, velvety softness, when she closed her eyes and threw her head back in pleasure? Was she making love to John somewhere in her memories? He knew that his own insecurities were manifesting images and scenarios with no basis in truth, and yet…was it possible that there was truth in it? 

Marlena was a very vanilla type of woman. She didn’t enjoy the rougher side of lovemaking. Roman remembered the first time they’d ever attempted to make love. She’d been so skittish, shrieking when Roman had nipped at her neck. Her experiences with Kellam Chandler had changed her forever. Jake Kositchek had left her afraid of the dark, and fearful of sudden movements. No, Marlena wasn’t the type of woman who enjoyed being manhandled. She wouldn’t be able to give up the level of control that was needed to even be comfortable with what he’d dreamed. 

But was that true? Was his wife the same woman she’d been when he’d died in 1984? Roman wasn’t aware of too many of the details. He knew she’d shot Stefano at the opera house, but he’d never bothered to learn the specifics. He didn’t know why she was there, or how she’d come to confront Stefano. Why wouldn’t he ever inquire about her motives or what led her to be there in those rafters? She was kidnapped and taken by Orpheus, but she’d ended up with Stefano. Roman remembered Bo trying to explain the details to him once, and he’d quickly changed the subject. The past brought up so many heavy emotions for him. Emotions that left him feeling helpless, and angry. Helpless because his family continued living, even while he was imprisoned, and angry for the same reason. He was unable to save his wife when she needed him. So, instead he had chosen to push those feelings away, and focus on the future. Focusing on the future, gave him control over the present.

Getting out of bed, Roman began to pull the soiled sheets from the bed, tossing them into a haphazard pile near the bedroom door. They hadn’t been changed since before Marlena left for her conference. He shook his pillow from the sheath that housed it, and added it to the pile. Glancing at Marlena’s pillow, which had fallen to the floor at some point during the night, Roman reached for it. It wasn’t dirty, but he was changing the linen, everything should match. As he began to pull the pillow free of its case, something dropped to the floor at his feet.

He stared at the folded piece of paper for several long moments before he bent down to pick it up. Holding it clenched in his fist, he debated reading it. His boxers were sticky and cold against his skin. He needed to shower and wash the filth from himself. Reading it afterwards was the better choice. It wasn’t going anywhere, but even as he thought it, he began to carefully unfold the paper, realizing immediately that it was a note from John. He recognized John’s handwriting from all of the police files he’d reviewed at the station.

Roman sank to the edge of his bed, and stared at John’s scrawl across the paper, feeling a heavy weight of disappointment settle on his chest. His wife was sleeping with a letter from her ex-husband tucked into her pillow. That didn’t leave a man with warm and fuzzy feelings.

Doc,

I wanted to apologize for what happened the other day at the pub after Isabella’s funeral. It was wrong of me to kiss you, and I know that doing so, I put you in a very awkward position with Roman. I think, after Mexico, I clung to Isabella thinking that she would be my opportunity to create something separate from what you and I used to have. A new love, a new family…losing her has…it has sent me into a bleak tailspin, and all I can think about is the comfort of your arms, the warmth you provide, and the softness of your lips. I shouldn’t have kissed you at the loft, and then, even after I promised I wouldn’t do it again, I cornered you at the pub. I’m apologizing right now, Doc, but… I can only say I’m sorry for putting you in an awkward situation with Roman. I’m not sorry for lying in my bed at night, and remembering the feel of your lips on mine. I’m not sorry for falling asleep remembering your scent. It brings me comfort and calm, and I don’t regret that. I only regret that you were left to face Roman, and you chose to keep what I did to yourself. I never wanted you to have to lie for me, I only sought out the comfort that I know comes from resting in your arms.

Love, John

Roman crumpled the note in his fist in a blind rage. How long had Marlena been having an affair with John? Had she ever truly said goodbye to John, or had she been treating him as a fool the whole time? Standing up he tossed the note into the garbage can, “He kissed her twice when his wife died. He should have been mourning Isabella. I know they slept together the night he left Salem…on our fucking anniversary. What else has she kept from me?”

Roman looked around the room thinking about the flowered hat box down stairs, and the locked box she kept in the closet. He knew she kept things in her lingerie drawer, but at no point had he ever felt the need to go through her belongings. That wasn’t the case anymore. Within minutes, he was in the shower, and as the hot water streamed down his body, Roman made plans to go through everything in the house, because he was done with secrets. He was going to learn everything.

Chapter 24

Gauley River Valley, West Virginia

The distance he could travel away from the cabin had already been determined by John within ten minutes of being dropped there by helicopter. Anthony had forced him to rappel down with Marlena strapped to him, while Mason kept the helicopter steady. After entering the cabin, and gently laying Marlena on the bed, he’d gone out to explore. 

John had known as soon as Mason fastened the tracker on his leg, that its function involved much more than tracking. He’d been proven correct about 300 feet from the cabin, when he received a jolt of electricity with one obvious message, don’t go any further. He spent the next few hours tearing his t-shirt into pieces and marking the perimeter, getting repeatedly shocked while doing so, if he stepped too far. He considered it worth the pain. Having the boundary clearly marked would prevent Marlena from being hurt later.

Just as the sun started dipping below the horizon, John made his way back towards the cabin. Dirt and sweat caked his body. He wiped sweat from his eyes, and hoped that the cabin, which was very familiar, would have running water.

John had recognized the place as soon as his eyes landed on it. It was the KGB cabin in West Virginia. He remembered smirking when he’d seen it. Another play in Stefano’s game. Well played, Stefano. Well played. As he neared it, he noticed a pile of wood that was partially chopped, and a water pump at the corner of the cabin. Once inside, he noticed that Marlena rested in the same position he’d placed her in earlier. She seemed so peaceful, completely unaware of how much she’d been through since dinner the evening before. The relaxed lines of her face were very different from the restless sleep she’d had on the plane.

The cabin itself was ramshackle, with cracks in the planks that allowed the elements to seep through. John could only be grateful that it was mid-summer. Mumbling to himself, he reached for the corner of the rug, “There should be a…ah…there it is…”

He pulled the carpet back, checking for the trapdoor that would allow him into the room below. He had no expectations. It would have been stripped bare of whatever technology it had housed back in 1986. Stefano would have made sure the place was gutted down to bare bones before he left John and Marlena there. Pulling it open, John descended the stairs.

“At least we have fucking fruit and wine,” he mumbled. The walls were lined with what looked to be homemade jams, as well as very old, vintage wines. Off to the side of the room was material for snares, and a collection of knives. As he ran his finger along the edge of the blade, John nearly laughed out loud at the dullness. He’d have to find a stone to use for sharpening. Unless there was food upstairs, he would need to start hunting first thing in the morning. He had no idea how long Stefano intended to leave them there, and they couldn’t survive on jam and wine. 

He heard Marlena’s soft, sleep-filled voice call out, “John?”

Reaching for a bottle of wine, and grabbing a few other items, he started to make his way back up the rickety stairs, when he noticed a very familiar poster on the far wall. Tucked into the shadows, it was the Stockholm Ballet poster. A replica, because John had taken the original.

“Still fucking with our heads old man?” John said to himself on his way back up the stairs. 

Marlena laid on the bed, and stared at him with a dazed expression, whispering, “Where are we?”

John dropped two jars of jam, a bottle of wine, and the makings for rabbit snares on the wobbly table in the center of the room, and he went to kneel beside the bed. “Stefano has decided we need another walk down memory lane,” John said with a hollow laugh. “We’ve been dropped at that old KGB cabin in West Virginia.”

Still under the effects of whatever drug Stefano had given her, Marlena slurred her next words, “What did he do to me?”

John stroked her hair away from her face and whispered, “He drugged your food, baby…but you’re coming out of it.”

“How long?” she asked faintly.

“It’s been almost twenty-four hours, maybe just a little more. I can’t tell because we’ve gone back three time zones, and we were on the plane for awhile…then a fucking helicopter…”

Marlena stared at John with wide eyes, “How did they move me?”

“I carried you,” John told her. “No one else was going to touch you, Doc. No one.”

Marlena smiled at him weakly. She loved him so much, and her mind was trying to remember why she wasn’t supposed to. She remembered Roman, while she reached for John, “I’m so tired…lay with me.”

“Doc, I’m filthy. Let me see if there’s any soap around here. He stood up, walking over to the duffle bag by the door that had been unceremoniously tossed out of the helicopter by Anthony as soon as John’s feet had hit the ground earlier. He could still see the nasty sneer on his face. John went through the contents quickly, finding a few changes of clothes, and some toiletries. Pulling out some matches, he sighed, “At least that’s something…”

Marlena struggled to sit up, feeling panic at the idea of losing sight of him, “John!”

John cooed gently, “Hey…hey, baby, I’ll just be outside. Right outside.”

Her hands pulled at his forearm, “Take me outside with you…please…”

That was how John ended up, bent with his head under freezing cold ground water while Marlena sat on a woodpile watching him wash up. His body was beautiful. She’d almost forgotten. She felt a shiver ripple through her muscles, and her core clenched simply from watching the water roll down his back. When it disappeared along the barely visible crease of his ass, she almost moaned audibly. He was gorgeous. The fact that she thought so would never change, and even though she shouldn’t, she wanted him. The longer Stefano kept them the harder it would be to fight it. She had nowhere to run, and no way to avoid the emotions she felt for him. If they were still in Salem she could try and distract herself with family, the children, possibly even work, but alone with John…it was impossible.

Standing up on shaky legs, she took the few steps needed to stand beside where he crouched. Marlena’s eyes mapped his body, landing on the tattoo that had once filled her heart with so much fear. It was part of who he was, and she couldn’t imagine him without it now. Reaching out, she gently stroked her fingers over it, causing John to shiver violently. Glancing up at her with deep blue eyes that told her, he wanted the same things she did. Softly, she whispered, “Do you remember…that day down by the river?”

Almost as if he was in pain, he replied, “Doc…I remember everything about our time together..” Both of them were momentarily lost in another memory. A memory of John kneeling beside a river, while Marlena tentatively stroked the ink buried in the flesh of his back. 

He continued to look up at her, and she was mesmerized. The light from the kerosene lamp played off of the muscles in his shoulders, and water dripped from his regal nose. Unable to hold herself back, she threaded her fingers into his hair, tugging it lightly, and told him, “I do, too.”

John wiped his face with both hands, pushing his wet hair back from his face, and he stood up slowly. Marlena’s palm slid from his hair, and over his shoulder, refusing to give up the warmth of his skin, landing tenderly on his chest. She was so close, her heat soothed his skin. John shivered again, unsure of whether he was reacting to her nearness, or if it was the result of the cool mountain air on his wet skin. 

She should have stepped back. She should have removed her hand from his chest. But she didn’t do either of those things.  Instead, Marlena’s fingers sank deeper into the hair on his chest, and she lightly raked her nails over his skin.

A rumble sounded deep in his chest. A sound borne of desire, and warning. “Doc,” he told her. “Doc, I think…”

Marlena’s head fell forward, resting against him, and she whispered, “I wish, I’d kept looking for you…that night in Mexico. I wish that I’d been the one to find you on the beach that night. I wish I was the one who…” She lifted her head, getting lost in John’s eyes, “I wish…you’d made love to me that night. Maybe then…maybe then, our lives might have taken a different turn.”

John didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He was trapped in her bright hazel eyes, wanting more, wanting what he had no right to want. He had a wife. What would regret do right then? It wouldn’t change a damn thing. And then, Marlena’s next sentence almost broke him, “Maybe, if I had, you would have chosen me.”

There was nothing he could say that he hadn’t already told her. She was married. He was married. None of it mattered when he brushed his lips across hers. None of it mattered when Marlena’s head tipped back, and she cried softly, leaning into him. None of it mattered at all.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Maison Blanche

A feral smile came over Stefano’s face as he watched the television monitor on the wall. Rolf had managed to get him every camera angle at the cabin, and using a remote control he could toggle between the cameras, keeping an eye on everything John and Marlena did. If John was useless as a mercenary, which Rolf had assured him was the case, he had other uses. Driving a wedge between Roman and his wife was one of those uses. Helping him destroy Shawn Brady was the other. 

Stefano stared at the screen with rapt attention as John licked his way softly across Marlena’s mouth. The attraction between the two of them was undeniable. If he didn’t have plans for Marlena, he would take her for himself. He could imagine she was fire and passion in bed, if her temper was any indication. 

A knock sounded on the door, and Stefano turned off the monitor, placing the remote control in a drawer, “Come in.”

Celeste entered, staring at him in the emotionless way she had. Once, she had loved him beyond anything else in her life, but he had ruined that. All he had now was her thinly veiled contempt, but she had alienated her own family, and had nowhere else to go. “What do you want, Celeste?”

“Hope is wondering if you plan on joining her for dinner? She knows you are here at Maison Blanche,” Celeste said.

“I wasn’t ready for her to know I had arrived,” he said, staring at her with hard eyes.

“It must have slipped my mind,” she replied as if she were bored..

Stefano stared at her, hating her very existence, while at the same time understanding she was essential to his process. With gritted teeth, he said, “I will join her shortly.”

Celeste walked out of his office with a satisfied smirk. He’d ruined her life. At one time, she’d loved him more than anything, but he’d used her. He’d destroyed her. The only thing he’d ever given her of value was their daughter, and even her, Celeste had given away to save from Stefano’s evil. She had nothing left, but she’d seen the future. Hating Stefano was easy, waiting to watch his demise was the hard part.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Gauley River Valley, West Virginia

After John carried in the second armload of wood, Marlena said softly, “Let me help you.”

“No, Doc,” he said, dropping it next to the fireplace. “You’re still not steady on your feet after the drugs Stefano gave you, and I don’t want you hurting yourself. Besides, I’m done. I’ll chop some more tomorrow after I set some rabbit snares in the morning.”

“So there’s no food at all?”

“I searched through the cabinets up here, and found nothing but an old emergency transistor radio,” he said, kneeling down before the fireplace. “As soon as I get this fire started, its strawberry jam and wine for dinner.”

“Do we need a fire? It’s still so warm out.”

“It’s going to cool down a lot, Doc. The last time we were up here, when we were in the cave–”

“–I remember,” she whispered. 

John’s soft voice, echoing on a memory, flitted through her mind, “Couldn’t I…just be John Black for one night?”

She wanted to say yes. She wanted his arms around her. She wanted to feel safe with him. “I–I don’t know…I…”

He could see the war of emotions taking place in her wide hazel eyes, and he whispered, “Look, it’s going to be a long, cold night, and if you won’t let me hold you…let John Black.”

Marlena continued to stare at him, her indecision tearing her to pieces. How could she crave him and fear him at the same time? It was exhausting, and she wasn’t sure she had the energy to keep fighting it. As much as she continued to push him away, she wanted nothing more than to sink into his arms.

“‘Cause if you don’t, you might freeze, and I don’t want that to happen.” 

She didn’t say yes, but she didn’t say no. Instead she turned away from him, and as John reached for her, and pulled her shivering frame against his, she couldn’t help but melt into him, allowing his warmth and safety to cocoon her.

John saw that she was recalling their time together in that cave. Pulling her from her reverie he said softly, “It got pretty cold that night, Doc.”

“It did,” she whispered, sitting down next to him. “I was so scared. Scared to let you in…when I believed you were Stefano. I couldn’t understand how I could love you as much as I did, and fear you in the next instant. I hated myself…for loving you…for betraying the family.”

John chuckled with derision, “And then we found out I was Roman. Stefano wrapped that up in a nice little package, didn’t he?”

“But, I loved you. Oh, how I loved you,” Marlena told him, feeling the warmth of the flames as they took hold in the brick fireplace. John was silent, saying nothing, and Marlena reached out, stroking his arm, “I did love you…I do love you.”

His eyes caught hers, “I’ve wondered since Mexico, if you loved me…or if you loved the idea of me. I was Roman, and he was your husband–”

“–You,” she whispered vehemently. “I loved you when I wanted…no, I needed to hate you…I loved you so, and that had nothing to do with thinking you were Roman. Maybe wanting to love you, allowed me to push away my doubts.”

“Doubts?”

“When I pulled that photo from the records scattered over the hillside, my first thought…before anything else, was that it couldn’t be true,” she told him. Feeling the heat of blush rise onto her cheeks, she stared at him intently, wanting him to know the absolute truth, and she said, “You didn’t taste like Roman…your lips didn’t feel like Roman’s. There was a passion and a desire underneath it all that had me doubting it immediately. But if you weren’t Roman…then you might be Stefano, and I couldn’t bear to let you go.”

Marlena’s palm cupped John’s jaw, and she told him, “And then…when you made love to me, I convinced myself that it was different, because you had no memory. Of course, you wouldn’t make love the same way, because you had no memories. You were essentially someone else…but I think I knew. I loved you so much, I believed whatever I needed to believe to keep you in my life.”

John stared at her in awe, and told her, “I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that.”

Chapter 25

Third Hill Mountain, West Virginia

A loud hiccup sounded from Marlena, and she started laughing almost immediately, “I never want to eat strawberry jam again…although the wine is nice.”

John’s vision blurred slightly, and he knew he was nearly drunk. Still he lifted the second bottle of wine to his lips, and drank deeply. The alcohol burned a path down his throat. Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth he told her, “I’ll set snares in the morning, and I think I saw some berries earlier when I was marking the boundary.”

Marlena hiccuped again, and looked at John with concern, “Boundary?”

John lifted his leg, to gesture towards the tracking device Mason had affixed to his ankle, and then fell back on his palms trying to steady himself. The room started to spin, but still he smirked at her in that sexy way of his, “You didn’t think these things were for fashion, did you?”

She hadn’t considered the device on her ankle at all. She trusted John so completely, that it hadn’t even crossed her mind. The device fastened to her leg seemed to be there to track their movements, but John had mentioned establishing a boundary. Realization came over her. A boundary meant it was electrical, and she whispered, “Oh, John…no…”

“I’m fine, Doc,” he replied, getting to his feet unsteadily. He was drunk, he could feel it even more once he was on his feet. He was drunk, and Marlena looked like the sweetest meal around. A bad combination.

Marlena laughed again watching him wobble, and struggled to get to her own feet. “I want to dance with you,” she said teasingly, reaching for his hand.

“We have a radio,” John said, looking around, trying to remember where he’d placed it. Snatching it up, he started to turn the crank quickly to get it going. After several moments, he looked at Marlena like he was proud of himself, and said, with slightly slurred words, “That should give us five minutes.”

John started scrolling through the stations, while Marlena waited, watching him with a drunken, love-struck, smile.  When the static cleared, he looked at her triumphantly, “There!” He wanted her in his arms, even if just for a moment, he wanted to feel her against him. Setting the small radio on the table, he reached for her, “C’mere baby, let’s dance.”

It was light, and fun, until she stepped into his arms, and then it wasn’t. Patti Austin’s clear voice came out of the small speakers. A tinny sound filled the room, and Marlena was lost in the feeling of John. She knew she was intoxicated, and she should be more concerned about her current situation, but she wasn’t. The lyrics washed over her, as if the song was written for that precise moment. But if I don’t believe in paradise. And miracles aren’t real. Then someone tell me, what is this I feel? Her fingers played gently with the hair at the base of his neck, while John pulled her other hand up towards his heart, smiling down at her. Immediately it was something more. Not an overwhelming desire, or a driving passion, but rather, it was a slow building of warmth in her soul. It was friendship. It was trust. It was love. With a sigh of contentment, she laid her cheek on his chest. Breathing deeply of him, she sighed.

Her warm, heated breath broke the barrier of the t-shirt, warming his chest, and John buried his face in Marlena’s soft, fragrant hair, allowing himself to get lost in the moment. One of his arms wrapped loosely around her hips, settling so low it became intimate. If I believed in magic spells. It all would be so clear. A magic spell must have brought you here. If I could see the future, I’d see if you and I were meant to be…But I don’t know any magic. And tomorrow’s just a dream…

“Doc?” John whispered huskily.

She looked up at him with a sleepy smile, “I think, I’m drunk…no, I know I’m drunk…the last time I was drunk I was with you…”

“That night the kids stayed with Shawn and Caroline, and you wanted to play poker?”

“Only because I was drunk,” she laughed.

“Which was why you decided strip poker was the game we were playing,” he replied softly, staring into her mossy hazel eyes.

Marlena giggled lightly, “Too bad we don’t have a deck of cards.”

John’s cock bobbed in his jeans. She was adorable in her drunken state. Her hair was curling around her face, and there was a drunken half-lidded gaze she had when she drank that caused John to crave her even more. He leaned near her ear, whispering so that the breath of speech wafted over her tender flesh, “I think, I want to kiss you.”

“I think,” she said, turning to whisper against his cheek, and running her fingers over his lips slowly. “I want you to kiss me.”

“Thank G-d,” he mumbled just before his mouth took hers. Marlena’s lips opened as soon as his tongue lightly stroked her lips. He groaned deeply, the rumble and force of it vibrating through her, making her mewl and whine, while her fingernails raked across his scalp.

Every time he kissed her, every angle of his head, or soft caress of his fingers, and even the way his palm cupped her hip, pulling her against him…all of it had Marlena on edge. She wondered if being drunk made it feel better, or if being drunk allowed her mind to be more free. There was certainly less guilt when she was intoxicated. The faintest thought of Roman crossed her mind, and she brushed it aside. Rebecca’s face came to her, and she bit John’s lip possessively, before sucking his tongue into her mouth. She could feel the clench of want and desire growing in her core.

“Fuck woman!” John cried, pulling back and staring down into her arousal blown eyes. “You taste so fucking good, baby.”

She tugged his hair, and whispered, “Kiss me, John. Don’t stop. Please…don’t stop.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Marlena and Roman Brady Residence

Roman never went back to sleep after his nightmare. For hours his mind had bombarded him with the images he’d conjured during his restless attempt at slumber. John’s mouth on Marlena’s breasts, biting at her tender flesh. Her cries of passion. Then there were Stefano’s whispered taunts. Words designed to make him doubt his wife’s love for him. Roman’s rage continued to grow, and he knew it was irrational. He was angry over something that hadn’t happened, but then…he thought about what Marlena and John had done on Victor’s plane. How far was what he dreamed from reality, when his wife had willingly allowed another man to fuck her?  

The contents of Marlena’s lock box was scattered across the kitchen table in front of him, while he nursed his fourth beer. Letters. It had been full of fucking letters. His first impulse had been to tear them to shreds, and put a flame to them in the fireplace, but he hadn’t done it. Instead, he stared at them helplessly, confronted with his wife’s past life…the one he had chosen to ignore. Small notes written on notebook paper. Notes on small, pink memo papers obviously taken by Marlena’s secretary. Cards for birthdays, Valentine’s Day, and no reason at all. All of them full of innuendo. All of them saved and hidden away in a locked metal box in their closet. Roman felt a certain level of disrespect simply based on the fact that she’d kept them. As if his love wasn’t enough for her.

I’ll be at your office at 12:30, you know what I’m expecting…

I may not remember the first time I married you, but I promise I’ll never forget the second…

The twinners are with Ma and Pop tonight. Come home early, I’m making dinner…

Roman roared as he forcefully wiped the table clean. He stood staring down at the mess he’d made, unsure of where to place his growing rage. Stefano? John? Marlena? His family…himself?

His front door opened, and Roman turned quickly, feeling shame at having been caught. Bo and Shane stared at him in surprise, taking in the disaster on the floor surrounding Roman’s bare feet.

“Roman, what happened?” Bo asked, coming inside and closing the door behind.

“Doc…she saved all of it!” Roman told them gesturing to the items on the floor. “She only loved him because she thought he was me!”

Shane and Bo shared a look of sadness, and Bo said carefully, “Roman, Marlena was in love with John long before she believed he was you. She…she became friends with him through his work at the hospital. He was head of security. He saved Marlena from the hospital rapist. Shane and I chased them all around the forest in West Virginia. Marlena…she had several opportunities to get away from him. She even believed he was Stefano for a while…she never left his side.”

Roman didn’t know what to say. He had no idea, of course. He hadn’t known that Marlena knew John prior to finding out he was Roman. He hadn’t been aware of John working at the hospital, or Marlena being attacked. He didn’t know anything about West Virginia.

With a shaky breath, Roman asked, “How did she meet him? At the hospital?”

“No…she, um, Shenanigan’s was being robbed, and the thief…he grabbed her. He held a gun to her head, and John caught him off guard, took the gun away. Chris Kostichek swears John saved her life,” Bo told him.

Sitting down heavily in the wooden dining chair, Roman took another gulp of beer, and muttered, “A regular modern day hero.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Gauley River Valley, West Virginia

The sound of spring peepers filled the quiet cabin, as a light breeze blew in between the cracks in the siding. The fire still crackled in the fireplace, and Marlena’s head rested on John’s shoulder. The weight of his arm around her brought a sense of safety and comfort that had her drifting toward sleep. They were both still slightly intoxicated, and her lips still throbbed from the powerful pull of John’s lips when he’d kissed her. He’d kissed her until they were both breathless, and her lips were swollen from his assault. He’d kissed her until he’d pulled back, and said softly, “I think we should get some sleep.”

If it had gone on for any longer, John’s hands would have strayed past her hips, and her fingers would have made their way under his shirt. It was better to stop, because they knew what would happen if they didn’t. John held her close to him, and licked over his bottom lip, still tasting Marlena, as his tongue toyed with the welt left behind by her teeth. His body was begging him to roll her onto her back, and continue to kiss her, but he couldn’t. 

“I still have some acorns I put in my pocket from the last time we were in this forest,” she said sleepily. “I have them in a box in the breakfast hutch.”

“That old flower box you hide things in?” he asked quietly.

Marlena smiled against him, “Yeah…the hat box. I kept the river rock you gave me too.”

“Our memories consist of acorns and a rock?” he asked her with a small laugh.

“I have more,” she whispered, thinking about the sweater, and all of his letters and notes. She’d saved it all, because even though Roman came home, she couldn’t bear to let John go. 

“Does Roman know?”

“No…Roman doesn’t want to know anything, and I–I think I wouldn’t want to share those things with him. Those are…private. My memories with you.”

John remembered driving down the highway with her in the convertible, “I can still picture you on our honeymoon, with that white bandana tied around your head–”

“–my hair was going to get messed up!” she said in mock outrage.

“And how you snored all the way home,” he said teasingly.

“I do not snore! I don’t snore!” she said, smacking his chest.

John rolled onto his elbow, smiling down at her, “Cute little snores…”

“I don’t snore!”

“G-d, Doc, I missed you so much.” His chest ached with how much he had missed her, and those moments together in the quiet solitude of night.

She stared up at him, “I’m right here.”

“You know what I mean,” he whispered, lifting a tendril of hair from her shoulder. His fingers brushed alongside her neck, and her body trembled.

“I do,” she told him. She wanted his mouth on hers again. She craved him. The feel of his weight against her, and the strength of his arms. “John?”

The back of his hand brushed her cheek, “Yeah?”

“Kiss me again.”

He was quiet for a moment, and then told her gently, “Doc, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“It’s a horrible idea,” she replied softly, even as her fingers made their way under the hem of his t-shirt, and over his lower back. She scraped his skin lightly, murmuring,  “It’s a horrible idea, but I’m just drunk enough that I don’t care.”

“Fuck, baby,” John groaned just before his mouth came down softly on hers. A soft series of kisses, where his fingers brushed her mouth, and her fingers laced gently into his hair. Slow, sensuous kisses, where the build was slow, but the embers were hot. “Marlena,” he rasped, licking over her mouth as if she were the most delectable thing he’d ever tasted. “Doc…we should stop.”

“We’re just kissing,” she replied, allowing the alcohol to fuel her decisions. Biting at his bottom lip, she pulled it down with her teeth and murmured, “Just kissing.”

“We’re drunk,” John said, between nips along her jaw. “We shouldn’t be doing this at all.”

Marlena’s head fell back, as she licked over her own lips, moaning, “But you taste so good…”

Involuntarily, John’s hips pushed against her in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure building in his cock. He pulled back as if he’d been burned, saying harshly, “Doc…roll over.”

She moaned, “John…”

“Roll over,” he told her. If she didn’t this would go much further than kissing.

With a small yawn, and a sigh, she licked his mouth again, laughing, and rolled over, intentionally scooting her ass up against his engorged cock.

John groaned, “Fuck…baby, go to sleep.” Then he slipped his open palm underneath the hem of her shirt, and settled it against the warm, velvety skin of her abdomen. 

Chapter 26

Maison Blanche

Rolf stared at Stefano with an expression of fear and apprehension, “Stefano, I told you. I cannot place another microchip in John. It would kill him! Scar tissue was already forming around the last chip. To place another I would have to excise the tissue, and it would kill him.”

“You’re certain?” Stefano asked, still unwilling to give up completely. “There must be some way to do it, so that it won’t–”

“If you want him dead, simply kill him!” Rolf replied in exasperation. “I have considered it from every angle and the placement of a new chip is simply impossible.”

“What about his past…his memories?” Stefano asked. “Will they return?”
“I had thought they were lost forever…” Rolf told him, “but, I believe, after watching the video of John and Marlena from Baliceaux, his memories will return. Maybe not entirely, but certainly a portion of them. He was able to perfectly describe a childhood moment on a fishing vessel–”

“–Rolf!” Stefano boomed. “I can’t allow it! There must be something you can do! If John remembers his past, then he will recall his connection to Mason, potentially ruining every plan I have made!”

“There is nothing I can do! Unless you want him killed–I could kill him–”

“–he can’t be killed! John is the pawn that could win or lose the whole plan!”

Hope stood outside of Stefano’s study, listening in on his conversation with Rolf. She was aware that Celeste was around somewhere, but she’d been rather lax in her usually watchful nature since Stefano had come to visit. Who was John? Why did she feel as if she knew who that was? An image came to mind, dark hair, and dark blue eyes like the night sky…an endearing, charming smile. She knew John. Did he have another name? She knew she did, but all she felt was frustration with her inability to recall even the simplest things.

Just as she was about to walk away, she heard Stefano say, “What about Hope?” Her footsteps halted, and she stepped closer to the door.

Rolf understood what Stefano was asking, but he played dumb anyway, “Hope?”

“Her memories!” Stefano said loudly. “If the microchip didn’t work on John…will it work on Hope?”

“Hope’s microchip didn’t work for memory transfer, as you know, but it has been successful for memory suppression…so far.”

“So far?”

“I can’t be certain, Stefano! It’s a new design, and the memory transfer didn’t work. It’s possible that her memory may return.”

Stefano stood up, stepping towards Rolf, “And Mason?”

“Mason has the same microchip that John had. It’s possible that the longer it stays wired into his system, the more that it will deteriorate.”

Hope stepped away from the door quickly, wiping tears from her eyes. Stefanowas lying to her. He was pretending. Pretending to care for her, and worry after her. He wasn’t helping her find her family or finding specialists to help with her memory the way he claimed to be. He was intentionally suppressing her memories, but why?

Celeste stepped from around the corner with a look of concern. She’d allowed Hope to overhear enough. “Darling,” she said softly, reaching for Hope’s hand. “I was looking for you. Why aren’t you in your room?”

“Did you know?” Hope asked quietly. “Have you known all along that he was lying to me?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you, darling.” Celeste lifted her hand, softly wiping the tears from Hope’s cheeks, and whispered, “We are all victims of Stefano, Hope. All of us.”

Inside his study Stefano stared at Rolf in disgust. “Is there any indication that Mason’s memories are returning? Or that there is any trouble with his microchip?”

“No, but the possibility remains the same. John’s microchip failed–”

“–get out,” Stefano said in a steely voice. “I can’t even look at you right now. You are lucky I do not kill you myself.”

“Another plan can be worked out–”

“–Get out!” Stefano roared. If John and Mason’s memories returned, each would know what the other was to them. Stefano didn’t need Mason turning on him the way John had. John’s purpose in 1985 was to go to Salem, and cause chaos within the Brady family. But it had gone all awry. While John had been a mercenary, the idea of a wife and children had repulsed him. He hadn’t wanted to be a part of it, and Rolf had been forced to wipe his memory entirely, just to ensure his cooperation. He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Marlena or her children. He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with the Bradys. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Pier 29, Salem

The sun was setting on the horizon when Bo and Kim saw Roman standing on the end of Pier 29. He stared out over the river, watching the gold and rose hues of the descending sun reflect off of the water. He’d left the station after lunch, finding himself unable to focus on anything of value. He worked nearly constantly, so it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to take some time off. But time off for what? To find himself trapped in the deepest, most unknown parts of his mind. 

He’d been having dreams. Dreams that did nothing but torture him. Dreams that presented him with scenarios he’d never thought consciously, but his subconscious destroyed him with every night. Images of John fucking Marlena against a wall, or tied up. Images of John smacking her ass, or biting her skin repeatedly. Things Roman had never thought to do to her…or had he? Did he want those things? Because he had woken up covered in his own cum for the last three days. He was daydreaming about what it would feel like to pound into her from behind, while she braced herself on the dining room table, and he slapped her ass.

Roman couldn’t get past the thought that the only sex he’d ever had with his wife was her on her back, and rarely her on top. There was no biting, no smacking, no tying up. There was no dirty talk, or hair pulling, and there was no scratching. All of that was being manifested in his mind, and he had to make it stop. Scrubbing his palms over his face, he glanced up quickly when he heard footsteps.

“So, big brother,” Bo said casually, approaching Roman on the pier. “Have you decided to give up on finding your wife?”

“What?” Roman replied, staring at Bo with confusion.

“We just met at the pub. Me, Abe, Shane, Kim…hell, even Rebecca was there. You were noticeably absent,” he said.

Roman glanced between Kim and Bo, saying, “I’ve got a lot on my mind right now. I’m in the middle of three murder investigations, that robbery at the diner over on Elm Street–”

“–No. I know you, Roman. It’s something else…you’re distant. When Marlena was first taken, you were desperate to find her. You barely slept. Now we barely see you,” Bo replied. He was remembering three days prior, when he and Shane had found Roman drunk, surrounded by remnants of John and Marlena’s life scattered across the carpet. “No. It’s more than being busy at work. Did you get another clue from Stefano that you’re not telling us about?”

“I told you, Bo…I’ve got a lot on my mind and I’m distracted.”

“Roman,” Kim said gently. “I could help you if you’d talk to me.”

“Kimmy, I’m fine.”

Bo sighed in frustration, “So, you’re sticking with that story. That’s fine. I won’t push you, but just so you know…I know you’re lying.”

Roman, who had been trying to ignore Bo up to that point, turned to him quickly, “You don’t know what it feels like to fight your way home after seven fucking years, and realize no one was even missing you! I spent every day in that cell praying to come home to my family…dreaming of my wife and my children. Now…I go to bed every night, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t forget that Marlena lived in that house with John. She brought him into our bed! She fucked him in our bed, and probably cried out my name while she did it!”

“Roman,” Bo started to say, “it was complicated. It was–”

“I know! I know!” he said sarcastically with a wave of his hand. “But I’ve been pretending for years. Pushing it down, refusing to face it. If I didn’t know, the details it wouldn’t hurt so bad, right? If I didn’t know the fucking details…shit! It doesn’t matter, because not knowing the details doesn’t change the fact that I imagine them together every G-d damned day!” His mind echoed with John’s words…It was torture. Allowing ourselves to make love that night might have been the worst choice. He had to get away from Bo and Kim. He needed space, and he needed to think. But, maybe that was the problem. He had too much time to think.

Kim came closer, placing her hand on Roman’s arm, “Something happened. Within the last week, something has changed. Because you were determined to find her. You believed that your love was strong.”

“I still believe that!” he said loudly. “I told you…I–I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

Kim watched her older brother storm away with a look of sadness on her face. Turning to Bo, she said, “You’re right. Something happened, and it happened recently. He’s lying to us.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Maison Blanche

The video in the VCR played, and Mason was frozen in place. He’d watched it once already, but found himself viewing it again. John had been shocked several times. The sweat that beaded on his forehead had broken free to trail down his neck, making paths in the dirt that coated his skin. Every time he stepped too far, a jolt shook his body, sometimes bringing him to his knees with the force, and still, John stood back up, and continued. Mason knew, although he wasn’t sure how, that John wasn’t marking the perimeter of the cabin for himself. He was doing it for Marlena. Begrudgingly Mason was realizing that he’d come to admire them both, which in his position with Stefano was a hazard. It affected his decision making, it threatened his life. Yet, even as he thought it, he watched John Black reach forward carefully, and receive a vicious shock, falling to his knees with a roar of frustration.

Stefano entered the room quietly, standing behind Mason, and he said, “He used to be one of my best and brightest mercenaries. Now I see him as nothing more than weak.”

Without turning, Mason asked, “Why?”

“Any man who allows a woman to burrow so deeply into his heart, that he would give up everything…even his own life, is weak. He’ll never reach his full potential. He won’t have the stamina…the drive…the focus, because she will always be his first thought,” Stefano told him, watching John stumble again. Seraphina’s heart-shaped face and deep blue eyes flashed through his mind, and Stefano said, “No. John is weak, and he is weak, because Marlena Brady…another man’s wife, holds his heart in her hands.”

Mason watched Stefano leave the room, and turned back to the screen. He wasn’t sure he agreed with Stefano’s summation. He’d never been in love, not that he could remember, but he felt that love might possibly be the strongest emotion a man could feel. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Gauley River Valley, West Virginia

John stood in the doorway to the cabin, his eyes closed, as the fading sun warmed his face. He had a rabbit to clean, and cook, but he’d been getting lost in memories all day.

“What about you? You and the river?” Marlena asked him.

“Well, I don’t know, um, I come down here and it feels right…kinda like being home,” he said, skipping a rock over the water.

Marlena smiled, “The river does that.”

“I’d like to be out there right now, with my boat…you know, just kind of rocking in the waves…”

“Did you have a boat?” she asked. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I had–” John stopped speaking suddenly, staring out over the water. He was surprised that he had remembered anything at all. “Right on this river, as a matter of fact.”

“I thought you told me you’d never been to Salem before?” Marlena replied.

John’s mind immediately switched, and suddenly he was a young man, with sun bronzed skin and large hands. He could see his gangly body, not yet grown to his full size, but nearly there.

“Giovanni, abbiamo un’ultima rete da controllare prima di entrare per la notte [Giovanni, we have one last net to check before we go in for the night],” he heard his Papi say loudly, over the rush of wind coming in from the sea. 

John looked up into his Papi’s smiling face, and he laughed, “Bene! Ho una fame da lupo! [Good! Because I have the hunger of a wolf!]”

His Papi reached forward, ruffling his already mussed hair, “Tu, passerotto, hai sempre fame! [You, little sparrow, are always hungry!]”

John stumbled backwards, the image of the man he had called Papi, burned in his mind. Dark black hair, minus the salt streaks it currently held, and deep blue eyes. It was Mason staring back at him, and John had no idea what to make of that.

Chapter 27

Marlena and Roman Brady Residence

Roman was less than enthusiastic to open his front door and find a herd of people there. A myriad of faces stared back at him with varying degrees of sadness, confusion, and frustration. “I have to get to work,” Roman said in a fractious tone. The last thing he wanted to deal with was being forced to discuss his recent behavior and distance from the investigation…unless they knew about the tape Stefano had sent, but how? “So we’re going to have to deal with whatever this is…tomorrow.”

“You’re off the schedule tonight, Roman,” Abe said, entering his home without an invitation. He was tired of Roman’s recent bullshit. Marlena and John were two of his dearest friends, and Roman was dragging his feet, and withholding information. Abe knew Roman well enough to recognize that becoming secretive and combative was a sure sign that he’d discovered something that upset him. Something he didn’t want the rest of them to know. “We have something we need to discuss, and we can’t wait around for you–”

“–to get your head outta your ass!” Bo finished, staring with hard eyes at his brother. Roman continued to stand with one hand on the doorknob, and the other on the frame, effectively blocking the entrance. It was obvious that Roman wanted them gone, but Bo had no plans to leave. He was tired of the games, and pushed his way inside.

Roman watched helplessly as Kim, Rebecca, and Shane followed suit. Shane turned to him, “Another clue came from Stefano today. This time it was delivered to my home…with a very interesting note attached.” 

He watched Roman’s features change almost imperceptibly. His eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open a fraction, before he returned to staring at them as if they were hindrance. Whatever Roman had learned in the past week, had left him feeling angry, and hurt. It took Shane a moment to put his finger on it, but Roman was in obvious emotional pain, and with Roman, that meant unpredictable reactions. Shane saw that there was another emotion behind it as well. Shame. He sighed in frustration, almost angry at Roman’s behavior. It didn’t matter what he’d learned, or what the potential fall out would be. John and Marlena were their friends. They were family. In disgust, Shane handed Roman the note that came with Stefano’s most recent delivery.  

Roman took the paper, and read one, lone sentence scrawled across the page…Roman’s keeping secrets. The other clue. The one he’d listened to, and hidden away in the breakfast hutch. He was desperate to change the trajectory of this meeting. Desperate to hide away what John and Marlena had done the night he left Salem. The night of their wedding anniversary, when Marlena was on Victor’s plane with John. Roman felt heat rise in his cheeks, followed immediately by rage, “I don’t know what this is about!” But he was aware that they all knew it was a lie.

Facing the truth was something he hadn’t done yet. Not the truth of Marlena’s affair that night, but the truth of why he was so angry. He’d been planning a party, to celebrate their love. To celebrate their ability to stay devoted to each other even after everything Stefano had done to them, and while he spent his day trying to create an incredible evening for her, she’d been fucking her ex-husband on an airplane. Shame rolled through him, and he wanted to roar it out, but he’d already broken things. It hadn’t changed the way he felt. 

Roman was jolted from his reverie when he heard Bo shout from across the room, “Where’s the tape player? You usually keep it over here–”

He rushed across the room, pushing his younger brother rudely out of the way, and pulled the tape player from a drawer in the breakfast hutch. Handing the device to Bo, a sense of dread settled in Roman’s stomach as Shane pulled a cassette tape from an envelope he had inside jacket. Roman swallowed thickly, “Another tape?”

Without bothering to answer Roman, Bo leaned forward and hit the play button. Several seconds of static played before Marlena’s choked voice started speaking. 

Marlena: I was pregnant, and I lost our baby.

John: It was just a dream, Doc. Just a dream.

Marlena (obviously crying): It wasn’t a dream…I was pregnant, and I lost her. I held her tiny body in my hand, and I buried her under our tree in the backyard.

Roman stopped the tape quickly, his face suffused with redness. “It’s a fucking lie! Stefano manufactured this! It’s gotta be a fake!”

“We don’t know that for sure, Roman,” Abe replied. Roman’s continued attempt to stop them was becoming more than frustrating. It was detrimental to their search. This wasn’t about Roman, or his emotions. It was about returning two people to the individuals who loved them most. It was about returning a mother to her children. With a hard look, he told Roman, “None of the clues up to this point have been fakes. We have to listen to it. Everyone in this room knows John and Marlena fairly well. We’ll know if it’s a fake.”

His chest was tight, burning from trying to hold back the emotion threatening to explode forth. He couldn’t stop this, the truth was set in motion as soon as Stefano decided to send the next clue to Shane. The room was silent, as Kim stepped forward, watching Roman carefully, and pressed the play button.

Marlena: It’s my fault. I was scared…I didn’t–I didn’t go to the doctor–I–I thought I had time…I–I couldn’t tell Roman, and I…

John: Doc…Hey, baby…I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.

Marlena: How can you hold me? How can you still look at me? I–I–our baby…I was ashamed, and I kept putting off telling Roman. I was stressed…I was so afraid he would find out, and I didn’t know what to do…I blame myself. If I’d gone to the doctor…maybe, if I’d called you, or told Roman.

John: I put you in that situation. I didn’t use protection…I left Salem. I blame myself because you went through it alone, but I don’t blame you. I could never blame you.

Marlena: It was in early April. Sami and Eric were asleep…and Roman was on a stake out. I–I didn’t know what to do. I started to panic, because I couldn’t…I couldn’t allow her little body to slide down the drain…I put her in a wooden box…the one you bought me in Tahiti.

John: The jewelry box. I remember.

Marlena: I buried her in the roots of the tree you planted in the backyard when we got married… I thought, if she was there, it would be like being in your arms.

John: I would have come home…I shouldn’t have left…

Marlena: I should have told you…I shouldn’t have been so scared…I’m so tired…I wish I hadn’t lost her. I wish I had been able to hold onto that piece of you…even if it destroyed my marriage. I wanted that baby…your baby.

John: I’m sorry you went through it alone. I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could reach out to me.

Marlena: I couldn’t. I knew, I–I would have begged you to come back to me. I would have begged you to come back to Salem, and you would have come. I know you would have. It wasn’t fair to you, because I was with Roman, and I couldn’t even pull myself together enough to make a doctor’s appointment or tell Roman about us…making love on the plane.

John: Doc…the thought of you going through that alone–

Marlena: I couldn’t call you, John. I couldn’t…I came home that night, after you’d made love to me, and–and I walked into a surprise party. It was my anniversary to Roman…and I’d completely forgotten. I spent the next few hours pasting a smile on my face, while I died inside.

John: G-d, Doc…I’m sorry…

Marlena: I don’t regret it. I’ll never regret it, but I knew you had left to save my marriage. Roman kept looking at me with so much love in his eyes, and I felt like a horrible person, because I couldn’t love him like that. I couldn’t love him the way I did before…you.

Kimberly watched sadly as Roman turned on his heel, and walked out of the house through the kitchen. The tape was quiet for a moment, and then a soft moan was heard. It was obviously male, meaning it was John. Rebecca’s breath hitched in her throat, and she turned following Roman’s path out of the house. 

Shane remembered his apprehension about an affair occurring between John and Marlena while they were held captive by Stefano. While in Isla Tortuga, he’d considered it. The two of them had an incredible bond, and being kept together in one room, with one bed, and one bathroom with no one to trust but each other. Now, everyone in the room was aware that an affair had occurred before John left Salem. One stormy night, which had resulted in a pregnancy. 

Shane remembered the anniversary party. He and Kim had been having difficulties. They’d argued earlier that day, and hadn’t had a chance to talk it through. Because of that, he’d spent some time alone, nursing a soda that Sami kept refilling because she was the “hostess”. Marlena had smiled and socialized, just the way everyone expected her to, but there had been something else about her that night, periods when she was alone, and no one was talking to her. Shane realized that those were the moments when her real emotions had shown through. He’d assumed it was sadness because John had left town, but thinking about it in the current context, made him realize she was grieving. It had been a much deeper loss than simple sadness. She had moments where she looked nearly catatonic, jolted from her thoughts by one family member or another, and pasting a smile on her face.

Marlena: When we went to bed, Roman wanted to make love. He kissed me until we were both breathless. I wanted so badly to feel something. I was desperate to feel something. A spark of passion. Desire. Anything. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t even make love to him that night. I was awake for hours after Roman had fallen asleep. I remember staring at the ceiling, knowing that your plane was somewhere over the Atlantic, and I whispered goodbye to you, right as I laid next to Roman…I missed this. I missed laying with you in the dark, and talking…about our day or the children. I missed the way you smell…

John: Those are some of my fondest memories, Doc.

Marlena: You were my best friend.

John: I can still be your best friend.

Marlena: I don’t think you can…

The tape ended, and those that remained in the room, Abe, Bo, Shane, and Kimberly all shared equal looks of apprehension. Quietly, barely above a whisper, Bo said to Kim, “He knew…Roman knew, and I think he only found out in the last week. It would explain the distance he’s put between himself, and the search for Marlena.”

Shane fingered Marlena’s wedding ring at the bottom of his pocket, and his eyes caught Bo’s. With one nod from him, Bo turned and left the house.

“What was that about?” Kim asked him.

“We found a couple things in Mexico,” Shane said. “We need to figure out the next clue.”

Roman stood in his backyard staring at the tree that he’d never thought to ask about. It wasn’t there when Stefano took him in 1984, but it had been there when he returned in 1991. A fucking tree planted by John on his wedding day to Marlena. Until that night it had been nothing more than a tree. Now it was something more. The day she thought she was marrying him. Roman could feel his world collapsing around him, and he wasn’t sure whether to collapse under the weight, or allow himself to destroy it all and start over. He wanted to do whatever he could to hold onto his wife, while also wanting to push her away.

Rebecca came up behind him, her feet a soft shuffle in the summer grass, “How long have you known?”

“Known what?” he asked roughly.

“That my husband made love to your wife before he left Salem,” Rebecca asked him with a choked sound. She was angry. Angry at herself for being so foolish. Angry at John for lying to her. Angry at herself for allowing this to hurt her so much.

“He wasn’t your husband yet…”

Roman was still trying to withhold information, and Rebecca asked him pointedly, “But she was your wife. So, how long?”

Roman sighed, still staring at the tree pondering where Marlena had buried the box with her and John’s child. His emotions were complicated. John and Marlena’s lovechild was buried in the roots of that tree. His first impulse was to dig it up, and move it somewhere else, because that tree would now be a constant reminder of his wife’s infidelity. Another part of him ached for her. He could hear the pain in her voice as they’d listened to the tape, but whatever empathy he felt, kept being pushed aside by anger. 

Roman sounded almost defeated as he told Rebecca, “About a week ago. It came, I listened to it…and then…I hid it.”

“Why hide it?” she asked him, coming to stand directly beside him. She turned to watch his face. She’d be able to tell if he was lying. She honed the craft perfectly, and it had suited her well when she’d been assistant district attorney. Instead, she found the emotions crossing his face to be confusing. He was a paradox of hate and love. 

“It wasn’t a clue, Rebecca. It was a way to taunt me. A way for Stefano to push the knife deeper into my heart, and twist it for good measure. What would sharing it accomplish?” he asked her in frustration. “My wife fucked another man, and then came home to me!”

They stood in silence listening to the crickets in the bushes. Rebecca took a breath and started talking, “When he came to Italy it was so abrupt. He had sent me there to run EcoSystems in Europe while he stayed in Salem. I’d given up on any possibility of a relationship with John. Imagine my surprise when he shows up in the office less than two weeks later.”

Roman snorted, “I guess it must have been.”

Rebecca felt betrayal slice deep into her heart. John had betrayed her. The one person she had bared her soul too, and he’d lied. She was nothing more than a rebound. That was why, when John learned of Marlena’s kidnapping, he’d immediately become obsessed with finding her. She said quietly, “John asked me out that first day…I want to hear the other recording, Roman.”

He paused for a moment. He’d never heard rage and grief before in such soft tones, but Rebecca’s voice nearly shook with it. He told her, “It’s not a clue. It’s only intention was to hurt me…you don’t need to listen to it–”

“–we were both lied to,” she said softly. “From the first moment John walked into the EcoSystems office in Palermo, he was lying to me, and I deserve to know the truth. I want to hear the recording.”

Abe was just coming through the kitchen to get Roman and Rebecca, when the backdoor opened and they entered. “Hey partner, Shane and Bo needed to discuss the clue that was left behind in Mexico. I was just coming to get you.”

Roman nodded his head once in acquiesce, and took the lead into the other room. He walked over to the breakfast hutch, and kneeled down, opening the bottom drawer. Silently, he pulled out a large, round hat box covered in bright pink roses, and lifting the lid off, he reached inside. No one said a word, when he stood back up, and handed a cassette tape to Rebecca. 

“Stefano sent it about a week ago,” he said to no one in particular. “It’s a conversation between Marlena and John about the night he left.” Kim stepped forward, hoping to comfort her brother, and Roman said defensively, “I don’t need your pity, Kimmy.”

“It’s not pity, Roman,” she said softly. “Hearing something like that, in any context, would hurt you.”

He shook her hand off, and walked over to the dining room table. Somewhere between the backyard and that moment, Roman had lost all of his energy. The emotions that had been fueling his anger, his shame, and his loss had fled, leaving him a shell of a man, who’s only desire was to empty his home, and drink himself into oblivion. 

Removing the cassette tape from the player, Roman held his hand out to Rebecca. Her fingers brushed his softly, and he looked up in surprise, registering her warmth. Taking the cassette he’d just handed her, he slid it into the device. He looked around the room, and said, “This tape is not a clue. Stefano sent it for one reason, and that was to torment me.” Not a single person responded, and Roman continued, “The only reason I’m playing this for you, is because Rebecca asked me to.”

He hit play without another thought, and barely processed any of it as it played. Instead he watched Rebecca’s reaction. Did this hurt her as much as it had hurt him? A few weeks earlier, he’d wanted the pain she felt to be as sharp as his pain. However, after a few moments alone together in his backyard, he’d changed his mind. He wouldn’t wish what he was feeling on her. It was the kind of pain that never left. It sat on the chest, weighing on a person from sunup to sundown. It invaded their mind while they slept, creating images that left them reeling…choking on a pain so deep it was inescapable. 

Rebecca hadn’t been with John when he’d slept with Marlena, but he’d gone to Italy and immediately started a relationship with her. John hadn’t told her about his affair with Marlena. Roman continued to watch John’s wife, and suddenly Rebecca’s features changed, just a fraction. The change was so minimal Roman was surprised he’d even noticed, and then he heard John’s voice…

John: Doc, don’t run from this please!

Marlena: Rebecca isn’t right for you!

John: And you are? You pushed me away, Doc! You pushed me away, and I didn’t think I would survive it! You have to understand that!… Doc…Doc, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed, and fought for you. I wanted you to fight for me…

Marlena: How could I? How could I disrupt my whole life for you…when I thought I was your second choice?

The tape ended and the room was silent. Finally, Rebecca said, “Thank you, Roman…I needed to know.”

Chapter 28

Marlena and Roman Brady Residence

Even as Rebecca thanked Roman for allowing her to listen to the tape, the rest of the people in the room had varying levels of disgust and frustration towards Roman. Kimberly tried to empathize, afterall it was the nature of her job, but even though she struggled to find a way to rationalize what Roman had done, she couldn’t. Finding out that Marlena and John had made love the night he left was shocking. Finding out that Marlena had ended up pregnant, and hid the pregnancy was devastating. She knew that learning about it hurt Roman greatly, but it wasn’t a reason to back away from the investigation. Kim could barely imagine the pain Marlena must have gone through. The way she described holding her child in her hand. That much had been evident in the sound of her voice as she’d told John about losing their child. 

Bo stared at Roman as if he didn’t even know him. No matter what Marlena and John had done, she was still the mother of Roman’s children. To simply abandon the investigation the way he’d done over the past week, out of self pity was ridiculous. Bo couldn’t understand it. No matter what Marlena and John had done, or how Roman perceived it, they didn’t deserve to be abandoned to Stefano DiMera. 

Abe shook his head, confused over Roman’s behavior. He’d always been stubborn and pigheaded, but this time he was endangering Marlena. He was endangering John, and Abe didn’t have the patience for it. No matter what they’d done, Abe knew the situation was complicated, but Marlena and John were his oldest and dearest friends. He wouldn’t give up on them, or abandon the search for them. He didn’t understand how Roman could. He claimed to love Marlena, but that wasn’t love. Abe remembered Marlena’s heartbreaking loss in Mexico, and how he wasn’t sure she would ever stop loving John. He should have spoken up then…

Abe could tell Marlena was hurting. He asked her softly, “Are you ready to have that talk now?”

She turned to face him, tears clouding her eyes. She said with a forced smile, “I’m not sure where to start. Pretty bad omen for a psychiatrist isn’t it?”

“But you’ll figure it out.”

She wasn’t sure that she would. The pain…the pressure from the deep ache inside her chest, had her feeling as if she were drowning. “Will I?”

“Marlena–”

“–Abe, please don’t say that it’s going to be okay…I’m just not sure that it’s going to be okay…I’m just not sure about anything anymore.”

“And you think that’s terrible,” he said as gently as he could. Her pain and confusion were obvious, but so was the choice she had to make. That was obvious too, but it didn’t make it any less painful. “You think you should have all the answers.”

“Well, yeah…yeah, I do,” she said, trying to sound sure of herself, while feeling anything but sure.

Abe watched her turn away from him, her vulnerability nearly destroying him. “Why? Because you’re a doctor? Because you’ve studied all the right cases?”

“No,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “I can’t go on like this. I can’t go on feeling this way…” Marlena turned to face him, finally giving up on trying to hide her emotions. She was lost, and she couldn’t hide that from the only person she trusted with her heart right then. “Abe…I love them both. You know how that feels? You know how it feels to love somebody so much, and not be able to commit to that person, because there’s somebody else in the way?” She could barely get her next word out, “No…when I came back to Salem, all I wanted was just my husband and my children. That was it. That’s all I wanted. That’s all I want now…” She stared at Abe helplessly, “I don’t know how to get it. I don’t know how to make that happen.”

His heart was breaking for her, as she turned away from him again. Stepping closer, he rubbed her shoulders, leaning forward, and he whispered, “Yes, you do. You know in your heart, and you can’t force it. Nobody knows that better than you do. You just have to take it slowly, and then, little by little, you’ll find your own way.” But even as the words left his mouth, Abe doubted them. He knew it wasn’t that simple. It would never be that simple. 

“Abe…I’m hurting them both.”

“Roman and John…”

“Yes,” she whispered. She turned around, barely able to speak for the pain choking her, “Abe? John…and Isabella…slept together…last night. And he came in this morning, and his face was so filled with guilt…just because I can’t–I can’t release him. I can’t let him go!”

Reaching forward, he wiped the tears from Marlena’s cheeks, “Hey, these things happen, you remember? Now, he’s obviously torn himself–”

“–I know he is!” she shouted, allowing the pain to explode from her. “And what about Roman? You know what he’s been through. He’s been through so much! I can’t add to his pain.”

Immediately, Abe felt wary. Those weren’t the words of a woman who knew what she was going to do. Those weren’t the words of a woman who knew what she wanted. They were the words of a woman who was settling. She was making her decision on what would be the best for Roman, and John’s child, but she wasn’t making the decision on her needs.

Marlena cried, “I hate that I can’t take him in my arms and stop the pain! I don’t know how to stop his pain! I don’t know how to stop it!” She wondered momentarily, how did she stop her pain? The pain that was wrenching its way into the deepest part of her soul. It seemed her pain was a secondary concern. It felt as if it had been that way for her whole life. She fell into Abe’s arms, her sobs wracking her frame.

“I wish I could tell you…I don’t know…you’re my best friends. I love them both,” Abe told her, holding her tightly in his arms.

Barely able to speak because of her tears, Abe heard her say, “I know you do! Oh, G-d! I envy you! You get to love them both…”

He hadn’t thought about that conversation in years, wrongly assuming things had been settled in Mexico. When John left Salem, Abe had been nervous. The attraction John was feeling for Marlena was obvious to anyone who paid attention. It had been obvious after their experience in the pit. Abe had known it was driving Roman mad, because he saw it. When John left, Abe could admit there was relief on his part. Relief that John hadn’t crossed that line. Relief that Roman hadn’t been hurt. Guilt washed through him, because while he’d been relieved, John and Marlena had been in agony.

Lost in his own thoughts, Shane’s fingers tumbled Marlena’s wedding ring around in his pocket as he considered what they’d just heard. Roman had known about John and Marlena’s affair for at least a week, and still he looked as if he were destroyed by it. As if he hadn’t processed it at all. Shane knew why Roman had hidden the last last recording. It was a harsh blow to a man’s masculinity when he found out his wife had been unfaithful. He recalled when Kim had slept with Victor. They hadn’t been married, but it was still something he struggled to come back from, even knowing why she’d done it. Roman was a stubborn man. A man who liked to be in charge. Ever since his return, Roman had romanticized his relationship with Marlena… what it had been, and what it was. 

Kim said gently, “You know, Roman…I understand that this is hard for you, but without sharing the tape with us…you can’t be sure that it wasn’t a clue. A lot happened while you were gone. Things that you aren’t aware of.”

Wanting to end the awkward silence that had fallen over the room, and move on, Roman said in a rough voice, “Shane, you said there was a clue in Mexico?”

Abe quietly watched Bo retrieve the poster from the couch. He rolled it out across the dining room table using candle sticks and other knick knacks to hold the corners. Shane stepped closer, as did everyone else, and he said, “We found this on the bed at Isla Tortuga.”

Everyone in the room recognized the poster except for Roman and Rebecca. Rebecca said softly, “I don’t understand. How is this a clue?”

“This poster was in the KGB cabin in West Virginia,” Bo said. “Well, not this one, but the original was. I was with Hope, John, and Marlena…we’d just figured out that John Black was Roman.” Roman’s face sneered, but Bo kept talking. “John said the poster was connected to his past, although he couldn’t remember how…so we brought it back to Salem.”

“How does it tie into Marlena’s kidnapping?” Roman wanted to know. He didn’t need a trip down memory lane, he needed facts. 

“I think you’re going to need to explain this to me from the beginning,” Rebecca told them. “John has never mentioned any of this to me.”

“Back in ‘86, Shane and I were trying to connect Victor Kiriakis to a spy ring out of Stockholm,” Bo said.

“We were failing miserably, until Marlena disappeared with John. Bo and I barely knew him then, Hope was more familiar with him. We weren’t even aware that Marlena and John were gone until she called Bo in a panic,” Shane continued. “She’d seen a tattoo on John’s shoulder… a phoenix, and she was convinced that John Black was actually Stefano DiMera.”

“Shane and I went to find her…” Bo glanced over at Kim, and said with a smirk, “Hope was supposed to go tell Kimmy what was going on…why Shane and I had run off to West Virginia.”

Kim laughed, “She never did, and Shane missed our Lamaze class!”

“Well, we got to West Virginia…” Bo said, remembering how lost he’d gotten them.

“Bo and I got a little lost,” Shane said sheepishly. “And then Hope appears in the back seat of the Jeep where she’d been hiding, so of course Kimberly never got the message.”

“Come to find out, Victor, and the KGB were after John, because he was The Pawn,” Bo told Rebecca. She seemed slightly confused, but he was also directing his story at Roman, because Bo knew for a fact that Roman didn’t know any of it, so they would return to that topic later. “John and Marlena were in the forest trying to lay low. Shane, Hope, and I were trying to track them down. After Marlena’s phone call I was convinced that John was Stefano DiMera, although Shane and Hope were more dubious. We were searching for them when we ran into Tiny. Didn’t we, governor?”

Shane started laughing, “I forgot about Tiny! He was this rather large man, with a beard. He was quite unpleasant actually. He believed we were trying to report his illegal moonshine operation…and Hope tried to get us out of that tangle…unsuccessfully, I might add.”

Bo smiled, remembering Hope’s antics, “I sure do miss her.”

Shane looked disapprovingly at his wife, “Victor arrived by helicopter, with Kimberly tagging along–”

“–that’s it!” Bo said loudly. “Shane, it was the Gauley River Valley! I can’t believe I forgot that.”

Sidetracked, Shane replied, “Either way…that’s a lot of area to cover. We don’t know the exact coordinates of the KGB cabin, and that river is hundreds of miles long.”

“How did it end?” Rebecca interrupted. “Obviously you all survived, but if you were being chased by the KGB, and Victor…I don’t understand how you escaped. Victor is quite…determined, when he wants something.”

“The KGB took Victor and I to the cabin,” Kim said softly. “Victor wanted them to let me go…but they wouldn’t.”

“Victor was working with the KGB. He knocked me on the head, and left me. I couldn’t figure out why he didn’t have them kill me…but that’s another story for later,” Bo said. “Hope and I came across John and Marlena later, near the riverbank. I was planning to shoot John. I had him in my sight, but Hope stopped me. She knocked the barrel to the side just as I fired. At the time, I couldn’t understand why Marlena was with him. If she believed he was Stefano, she should have run. I didn’t understand that by then she was already in love with him. Even when he let her go later, she managed to find her way back to him. She refused to leave him.”

“At that point,” Shane said. “The KGB had myself and Kimberly tied up in the basement of the KGB cabin. We had to fight our way free, and then Kimberly went into labor with Andrew.”

Bo ran his fingers through his hair roughly, “Victor and the comrade cornered John, and John made Victor promise to leave Marlena out of it. They taunted him with the medical records he was after. Those were the files that ended up scattered across the hillside. Marlena was the one who found them.”

Roman sneered, “You mean the ones that had my picture? She believed that pretty easily.” He’d never understood how Marlena was convinced by a photograph. With no other evidence in hand, she’d brought a stranger home, and called him her husband.

Bo lost his temper, “You have no idea what we had all gone through up there! I wouldn’t be so quick to pass judgment! We were all exhausted by that point. John and Marlena had been desperate to get their hands on Dr. Peterson’s records. Why would they question it? Victor and his henchmen had taunted John with those records! Why would any of us question it?” Bo still felt guilty for almost killing John. He had come to mean so much to him over the last nine years, that even remembering that he’d once tried to kill him was upsetting. What was even more upsetting was Roman’s continued refusal to try and understand what had happened. 

Roman could feel the rage rising up inside him again, as he pictured John bringing Marlena into that house, and Marlena leading him up the stairs on their first night home. He imagined Marlena crying out, Roman, as John made love to her, and he felt himself struggling to maintain control. Roughly, almost aggressively, he said to Shane, “This poster is the only clue from Mexico?”

Shane cleared his throat. Roman was on edge. It practically vibrated off of him. Everything they’d just told Rebecca was information that Roman knew nothing about. Shane still didn’t understand why Roman had been home nearly three years, and still knew almost nothing about the seven years he’d been away. 

Shane replied, “The poster is a clue as to John and Marlena’s whereabouts. They could be in West Virginia or they could be in Stockholm. Bo thinks they are in West Virginia, but I also found this…” Reaching into his pocket, Shane pulled out Marlena’s wedding ring. “Back in ‘86, Marlena left her wedding ring behind when she was kidnapped by the ISA…and that was when they took her to Stockholm.”

Roman stared at his wife’s wedding ring momentarily. He wondered if she left it as proof that she’d been there, or if she left it behind because she no longer wanted it. He glanced at Shane, confused by what his sister’s husband had just said, and he asked, “Marlena was kidnapped by the ISA?”

“It was about the savings bonds case you worked back in 1979. It’s quite complicated, but yes, the ISA took her,” Shane replied. “John found her ring when he was doing investigative work with Hope. I thought it might be a clue that Stefano was taking them to Stockholm.”

Roman was very slowly coming to terms with exactly how little he knew about the time he was gone. He was overwhelmed, and he needed to think. He needed to think, and he needed beer. Glancing at Marlena’s ring one last time, Roman looked back over the poster, “The poster says Stockholm too. So…that’s probably where Stefano has them.”

“I don’t think so,” Abe interjected. “It’s too easy. I think Bo’s right on this one. I think Stefano has them in West Virginia.”

Shane sighed, “The problem is, Bo and I are struggling to remember exactly where that old KGB cabin was. It’s been nine years–”

Shane, Bo, Abe, and Kimberly started discussing Gauley River, and where they’d been in relation to the old KGB cabin, but Roman had checked out of the conversation. He couldn’t handle anymore. He watched Rebecca quietly slip out through the kitchen, and he decided to follow her. 

Rebecca heard the back door open, and close softly behind her, but she didn’t bother to acknowledge it. She knew it was Roman. He probably felt as suffocated as she did. Without even acknowledging she knew it was him, she said, “I wonder where she buried it?”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Roman said gruffly. “I can barely stand to live in this house as it is.”

“Really?” Rebecca asked him curiously. “Didn’t you buy this house with Marlena?”

“I did…but when I came home after being Stefano’s prisoner for seven years to find out she’d accepted John as me, while living here in wedded bliss…” Roman shrugged his shoulders. “It just hasn’t been the same.”

Rebecca knew why. She’d only been in the house less than an hour and a half, and she was uncomfortable. Listening to Marlena’s choked words as she’d spoken about the baby she’d lost would affect any woman. Knowing it was John’s child hit another chord. John’s child with another woman was buried in the roots of that tree. He made love to Marlena in the bedroom upstairs. Rebecca laughed softly to herself, feeling bitterness rise up like acid. Knowing John the way she did, he’d probably made love to Marlena in every room in that house.

Roman glanced over at Rebecca curiously, “What’s so funny?”

“It’s not important,” she replied. Roman was already on edge, and her bitterness over her husband’s virility wouldn’t do anything but cause Roman to hate his home even more. “It doesn’t change a damn thing.” She was quiet for a moment, and then she said, “I think I would have sold this house and moved somewhere else.”

“I thought about it. I still think about it…especially now. Sometimes I fucking hate this house.”

Rebecca sighed, trying to control the hurt swirling like an eddy inside her. “I guess I can understand that…” She could still hear John’s gentle tone as he spoke to Marlena. The love that echoed in every syllable. She’d heard it. I should have stayed, and fought for you. I wanted you to fight for me… Hearing him say that had her wondering if he’d ever loved her. Was John imagining Marlena when he made love to her? Afterall, he’d only married her to forget the other woman.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Gauley River Valley, West Virginia

The flames of the fire flickered over John’s face as he stared into them. He could only imagine what Marlena’s skin looked like submerged in the tub inside the cabin. He’d found an old steel tub in the basement, and brought it upstairs. After filling it halfway with cold water from the pump, he managed to heat some water in a large kettle that was sitting in one of the empty cupboards. It wasn’t much, but she could clean up. Once the water was ready, John had fled the confines of the cabin, desperate to get away from her.

The day before, after skinning and cleaning a rabbit he’d trapped, a glint of sunlight caught his eye. It was a camera, which meant Stefano was watching them. He’d very likely been watching them the whole time. John knew enough of Stefano’s mind games, and his devious ways to know that this was all part of the game. If the goal was to hurt Roman, or hurt the Brady family, and Stefano was using himself and Marlena to achieve those ends…what better way than to put him and Marlena together? Make them dependent on each other. Isolate them, and make them remember their love. Wasn’t that what Stefano meant when he said he was taking them on a trip down memory lane? The longer he was with Marlena, the more he was reminded of his love for her. 

It was becoming nearly unbearable to sleep beside her at night, holding her in his arms, and feeling her soft breath against his neck, as her face rested against him. He’d found one camera, and destroyed it, which meant there were more. Stefano was insidious. John imagined the myriad of ways Stefano could use camera footage, or voice recordings to torture Roman or Rebecca. He and Marlena hadn’t held back in their conversations. Their words and emotions were raw, and unfiltered. John felt, innately, that Stefano was intentionally pushing him and Marlena together, and the worst part was, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could fight it.

“John?” Marlena called softly, from inside the cabin. 

Clearing his throat, John replied, “Yeah, Doc?”

“Is there more hot water? The water is cooling down, and I’m not ready to get out just yet.”

His heart stuttered, with just the thought of going inside the cabin with her in a pool of bathwater. He stood up slowly, rubbing his palms over his face as if he could clear his mind of the thoughts of what he would like to do to Marlena Evans. Lifting the kettle off of the fire, he entered the cabin.

John almost fell over his own feet as he looked down into the most beautiful set of mossy eyes, dotted with flecks of fawn. Marlena sat in the tub, in front of the fireplace, with one long, shapely leg hanging out. She sank down in the water, allowing it to barely cover the fullness of her breasts. He looked away quickly, saying, “Move your foot to the side, baby. I’ll pour it at the bottom.”

She continued to stare at him, and she whispered, “Thank you.” As John poured the hot water in, the heat radiated over Marlena’s achy muscles. Her head rolled back, and she moaned softly.

Unable to take his eyes off of her, without thought, John mumbled, “Fuck…”

Marlena’s eyes opened, and she blushed. She reached for his hand, her fingers catching the tips of his. “Sit with me and talk.”

Part of himself argued that he shouldn’t. He should go back outside until she finished. He had no doubt that there were cameras inside, and possibly recording devices, but he was drawn to her. “We have to be careful,” John told her, sliding to the floor beside her. He leaned against the tub, turning himself to face away from her. “Stefano is probably recording everything we say.”

Marlena was quiet for a moment. All John could hear was the soft movement of water around her body, and even that had him imagining running his fingers over her soft skin beneath the water. He shivered, and startled when he felt Marlena trace her warm, wet fingers across the nape of his neck. He turned his face to her with a soft groan, “Doc…”

“I’m certain that Stefano already has whatever he needs from us,” she said softly.

“What do you mean?”

“If his goal was to destroy Roman…finding out about our affair, and the baby would do that. It’s already done,” she said sadly. “What else could he do?”

John pictured himself, pulling Marlena from the tub, and sinking into the bed with her, but he kept those thoughts to himself. Instead he said, “Do you remember how difficult you were the last time we were up here?”

“Not fair!” she cried. “I thought you were Stefano!”

“G-d, woman, I chased you all over this valley, and then when I told you to go…you came right back,” John laughed. 

“I loved you,” she whispered.

“You never said,” he replied softly.

“What would I have said? I was in love with Stefano Dimera? I was holding out hope that you were someone else…anyone else?”

John started laughing, “Did you love me when you tried to knock over the head with that rock?”

Marlena felt emotion choke her throat as she said, “I loved you from the moment I watched you dance with Carrie at her birthday party.”

John turned to face her, scooting closer, desperate to be nearer, “Even after I ordered Strega?’

“Well, I have to admit that was slightly disconcerting, but yes, even after you ordered the Strega. There was something about you, something soft, and kind…a warmth to you that I was drawn to.” Marlena stared into his deep blue eyes, trailing the pads of her fingers softly over his jaw. John could feel the warm water run down the line of his neck, causing him to shiver. As the water made its way into the neckline of his shirt, she whispered, “I still am.”

Chapter 29

Gauley River Valley, West Virginia 

With the hem of her shirt full of berries, Marlena stepped closer to the blackberry bush. One more step, and she would have crossed the imaginary line surrounding the cabin. John rushed forward, grabbing at her shoulder. Pulling her back quickly, the berries scattered over the ground, along with the morels he was carrying. “Doc!” John cried out in fear. “Baby, you have to pay attention! One wrong step, and you’ll get a jolt you won’t ever forget.”

Marlena tipped her face up to his with embarrassment. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention…there–there was a whole section of the bush full of berries.”

John still gripped her arm, unable or unwilling to let it go. “Doc, there’s a reason none of those berries were picked.” His heart still pounded in fear in his chest, and he tugged her forward roughly into his arms. Threading his fingers into her hair, he took a deep breath, burying his face in it. “Just please pay attention, baby. I marked the whole boundary so you wouldn’t be hurt.”

Marlena’s arms snaked around his waist, and she allowed herself a moment with him. She rested her cheek on his chest, and listened to the rapid staccato of his heart. She’d scared him badly. It felt like coming home, resting in his arms, and she sighed softly, allowing her body to relax against him. The late summer sun filtered through the dense trees and she felt as if she could stay in that moment forever. She wanted to melt into him, and allow him to melt into her. Marlena’s fingers slipped under the edge of John’s t-shirt, and lightly danced across the skin of his back.

“Marlena,” John said with a rough catch in his throat. Her fingers continued to gently stroke his skin, and his blood was pumping violently in his veins. It was like she was pushing him towards…something. Tightening his fingers in her hair, he pulled her head back, and watched as her lips parted, and a soft gasp escaped her. Hazel eyes stared up at him, and his heart lurched. Gruffly he said, “I wonder…does Roman tell you how fucking beautiful you are, because…if you were mine…fuck, baby, if you were mine I would spend the rest of my life making sure you knew how special you are.”

Her core clenched, and butterflies took off deep in her belly, as if just released from their chrysalis. She loved him. She was in love with him. Comparing a life with Roman to what her life was like with John, there was no comparison. The longer she was away from Roman and the more time she spent with John…she couldn’t imagine the pain she would feel once they were found, and she knew they would be found. How would she feel going home to Roman while watching John walk away with Rebecca? Suddenly she felt her eyes filling with tears, and she tried to step away.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…Doc! You’re going in the wrong direction,” he told her, pulling her back to his side. John walked her a few feet away, staring down at her. “You want to tell me why you’re crying.”

“I…you make me feel so loved,” she said in the softest voice. “That’s all.”

“Roman loves you,” John replied, tipping her face up to his. “He does–”

“–it’s different.” Marlena wasn’t sure what else to tell John. Roman loved her, as much as he could, and maybe that had been enough, before John, but it wasn’t enough anymore. It was lonely. His obsession with his job, and his disregard and disrespect of hers. His unwavering stubbornness, and his penchant for arguing with her until exhaustion wore her down, and she told him he was right…just so he would let it go. Being with John was so easy, and being with Roman…wasn’t. She thought feeling that way felt like betrayal, saying it out loud would be. She shook her head, trying to step away from him, but John held her where she stood. 

Backing her against a tree, he brushed her hair from her face, and said, “I feel guilty too.”

She looked up quickly, “How do you know–”

“–you think I wouldn’t? Everytime I’m near you…when your hand brushes mine, when I watch the sunlight turn your hair into golden honey, when I hold you in my arms at night…I feel like I’m being unfaithful. Everytime I kissed you–”

“–I don’t want to talk about Rebecca!” she said, trying to get away from him. 

“–why? Because it hurts? Do you think it hurts me any less to imagine Roman making love to you in what was our bed? Our house?” John asked her in a choked voice.

Marlena was losing her ability to control her emotions. She was losing her ability to maintain that calm facade she wore like a mask. Words exploded from her, as if her heart had opened itself wide, “You didn’t have to marry Rebecca! Anyone else, John. Anyone. Else. But you married Rebecca…when you knew…you knew how jealous I was of her. You knew…”

He watched with a broken heart as tears rolled over Marlena’s cheeks. Had he known? But, he knew she was speaking the truth. He’d been dating Rebecca casually in Salem, and had stopped because it was destroying Marlena. At the time it was easy to let Rebecca go. He had no real feelings for her, and the pain on Marlena’s face when she’d admitted how jealous she was had made the decision for him. In Palermo, Rebecca had been easy to pick up with. A convenient choice. They got along well. He was attracted to her. He’d thought he would never see Marlena again. Maybe a small piece of his heart had been bitter, thinking of Marlena with Roman. Thinking about it then, he couldn’t say for certain whether a part of him had chosen Rebecca because he was hurting so badly. It was possible, but it wasn’t done consciously. 

The pad of his thumb brushed over her bottom lip, “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. Never.” John found himself leaning over her, pressing her against the tree with the length of his body. One hand cupped her shoulder before sliding down her arm, and then his finger entwined with hers. John found himself staring at her soft, pillowy lips, as he whispered, yet again, “Never.”

Just as John’s thumb ran over her lip again, Marlena’s tongue darted out, the tip softly licking over his digit. That was it, his breaking point. This was what she’d been pushing him towards, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. He hadn’t kissed her since the first night, when they got drunk on wine and danced, but right then…they were both sober. They couldn’t blame what they were about to do on overindulging on vintage wine.

Was she outside of herself? It certainly felt as if she and John were in their own world. A world of their own, except she knew, even if she and John thought they’d destroyed all of the camera’s, they very likely hadn’t. Stefano was still watching them, he’d been watching them for years. He’d been watching them when she returned to Salem, and John caught the man with the video camera. Was that knowledge going to stop her? It didn’t, but she knew she needed to somehow lighten the mood, because if they continued, she would let him make love to her against the tree.

She tipped her head forward slightly, staring up into John’s eyes, and with a sly smirk, she bit his thumb.

John’s eyes widened, asking her the obvious, “Did you just bite me?” His mind was screaming at him to take the out she was offering. Use humor to deflect, and walk away from the sexual tension that was slowly coming to a head, but he couldn’t. He continued to stare into those beautiful green eyes dotted with freckles, and he rested his forehead on hers, whispering roughly, “I want you so much it hurts…”

“Stefano could be watching,” she whispered back. That was the only thing holding her back, and even that threat wouldn’t hold her back forever. 

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Instead of walking away from her, he continued to stare at her, and said, “And if he wasn’t?”

Common sense told her to stop. Don’t take it any further, but she was tired of being respectable. She was tired of doing the right thing, and letting people determine who she was. She wasn’t perfect. She would never be perfect. Quietly, barely loud enough for John’s ears, Marlena whispered, “John…”

“I have to know,” he told her. “I need the words.”

Marlena’s cheeks flushed as she pictured herself falling to her knees in front of him. Her core throbbed, as she imagined slipping her hand inside his jeans and pulling his length out. She could still recall the taste of him, and the way his cock felt sliding in and out of her mouth. Looking away quickly, she replied, “I can’t.”

“You used to…remember? You used to have the dirtiest words fall from those pouty lips, and you knew it would drive me fucking mad with wanting you. My proper wife, Dr. Evans, all prim and proper outside the bedroom…” John, still trying to speak softly in case they were being watched, said, “But inside the bedroom, you always gave me what I wanted.”

Marlena reached up, wrapping her palm around John’s neck, and she pulled his head down. Softly, her breath wafting against his ear, she whispered, “If Stefano wasn’t watching…I would drop to my knees right now.”

John’s cock jerked in the tight confines of his blue jeans, and a growl erupted from his chest, “And then?”

“John,” she groaned, feeling her cheeks get hotter. He did this when they were married. Forced the words from her, making her pussy wet, and driving him towards desperation.

“Please, Doc…” he begged, rolling his hips into her. 

“I’d unbutton your jeans…and I’d make love to you with my mouth.”

“Fuck…I want you so bad. I’m so fucking hard my cock hurts.”

She nearly broke him when her palm stroked over the front of his pants. The softest touch along his length, and his mouth was on hers, he didn’t care who was watching.

Marlena gasped, opening to him, allowing him to plunder the depths of her mouth. His tongue searched for her, and he growled low in his throat, as his hips pushed against hers aggressively. John pulled back, breathing heavy, and he moaned, “I don’t know how much longer I can last. I don’t know how much longer I can wait…when all I want to do is take you inside the cabin and sink into you. It’s almost fucking spiritual how much I want you.”

“Oh, G-d!” Marlena cried, allowing her head to fall back against the tree. Her fingernails raked over the cotton of John’s t-shirt, as she whispered harshly, “It’s so unfair!”

Soft lips fluttered over her neck, and her eyes opened, staring at the blue sky. Soft, puffy clouds moved  across her line of sight, and unable to stop herself, she breathed, “John… John… hold me. Just hold me.”

He sank to the ground with her body wrapped in his arms. There was nothing else he could do. He wouldn’t make love to her with the possibility of Stefano watching. He wouldn’t subject her to that, even if his body was crying out for her. He wouldn’t risk Stefano Dimera having a video of their most private moments. John knew that when he finally made love to Marlena again, and he would make love to her again, it wouldn’t be for Stefano’s sick prying eyes, and it wouldn’t be turned into something dirty.

With his back against the tree, Marlena rested against him, trying to regain control of the desire raging through her body. “I love you,” she told him softly.

“I love you too, Doc,” John replied.

“What are we going to do?”

“I–I don’t know. All I know is that right now, all we have is each other, and I won’t let anyone hurt you. I’ll die first.” His fingers played gently with her hair as it hung over her shoulder, and John whispered, “I will do anything to keep you safe.”

“When I came home to Salem all I wanted was my husband and my children…all I wanted was you.”

“And then we found out that I wasn’t your husband.”

“But you were,” she said. “You were. I made vows to you before G-d, and I’ve never quite been able to let them go. I understand the legal system. You weren’t Roman, and Roman wasn’t dead. His death was nullified…my marriage to you was nullified, but I’m not sure any of that matters when my heart still belongs to you.”

“My heart still belongs to you,” he said softly. Finally feeling as if his heart had stopped racing, and grateful that the swollen heavy ache in his cock was gone, John rubbed his nose over Marlena’s cheek, whispering, “I think no matter what I do, or how I try to escape it, my heart will always be yours.”

Marlena remembered the day she and John had married, and how full her heart was. Lost in her memories, Marlena said, “When we believe that we alone can love…”

John replied, pulling her body more deeply into his embrace, “That no one has ever loved so before us…”

“And no one will ever love in the same way after us…” She curled herself into him, feeling as if her heart and her mind had married him again. Marlena knew that going back to Roman was going to be impossible.

Chapter 30

Gauley River Valley, West Virginia

“I found one!” Marlena yelled loudly with a laugh. “That’s three for me, and one for you.” She reached for the camera, twisting it, and wrenching it from the tree where it was affixed. She crushed it with a rock like John had shown her.

John smirked, finding her enthusiasm endearing. “Good girl,” he said without thought, still searching his area outside the cabin.

Marlena halted in her movements. Good girl. Intimate moments flashed in her mind. Moments between her and John. Moments that she had never experienced with anyone but him. Her body tensed in the most delicious way, and her core tightened momentarily. 

He knew as soon as the words left his mouth that she would react, but it was too late. Knowing that she’d instinctively reacted sent a thrill through him. G-d she’s amazing, he thought. He could picture her on her knees, kneeling before him, with her arms tied behind her back. His mind flashed with the memory of smacking her ass to get that soft pink glow, and then slowly caressing over her flesh with tenderness. 

Marlena turned to face him, staring at him with wide, questioning eyes from the other side of the clearing. Good girl. Just one short phrase, and she was lost living another moment in time. She was helplessly disoriented.

“I’m sorry, Doc. That just slipped out,” he told her, taking a step towards her. He stopped, still staring at her intently, “I didn’t mean to–”

“–it’s okay,” she said with a soft shake to her voice. “We’re going to have to get used to these awkward moments, I guess.” She didn’t say anything further. There was nothing else to say. As long as they were living together, in such close quarters, they were going to have awkward moments. They weren’t trying to deny their love any more, they were trying to avoid acting on it.

“I think the front is clear of cameras. We’ve looked over all of it, although we can’t guarantee that there aren’t cameras past that boundary. You ready to go around back?”

“What’s back there?”

“I saw some ramps back there yesterday, and I think some morels might be popping up in the corner where the woods are,” John told her, reaching for her hand. He laced his fingers through hers with a sweet smile. “I have a couple snares I need to check too.”

“What I wouldn’t do for some chicken,” she laughed.

“Ramps taste like a cross between an onion and garlic. They’re similar to leeks, I guess. If I caught a squirrel or a rabbit, I can maybe use them for some flavor…the mushrooms would be nice too.”

Marlena glanced at him curiously, “How do you know that?”

“You remember when I told you about that crazy doctor? The one who works for Stefano? He kept giving me drugs when we were on Isla Tortuga, and I would wake up later wondering what he’d done to me. He either took something out of my neck…or he put something in. Either way, I’m having memories of my past, and over the last few days…I realize I also know survival skills, military training, and other things…” He was hesitant to say what else was coming to him, because he didn’t want to worry her any more than she already was. 

Marlena laughed, “It’s better than the last time we were stuck in this valley. We lived on berries for nearly a week.”

John tugged her by the hand towards a patch of what looked like weeds, and he kneeled down, “Doc, see these leaves? They are oblong, and flat, with a dark green color. If you push the stalks aside, and look at the color, it should be a dark pink or magenta.” He wrapped his hand around a large group of them, and he tugged them hard and fast. Shaking the dirt free he looked at her, as if he were proud of himself, and he said, “Look there…see those? Bulbs on the bottom. They’re related to lilies. Great flavor.”

Marlena stared at him in awe. There was a light in his eyes as he spoke, and she found it endearing. He was having more memories, and in the process she could see him gradually changing. He probably wasn’t even aware of it. In an effort to be nearer to him, she sank to the ground beside, feeling the coolness of the earth through her jeans. She told him softly, “I always wanted a garden, but I never had the time. Then…when I did have the time, I ran away. I buried myself in work and the children.”

“I wish I’d stayed in Salem. If I had, maybe…just maybe, our lives would have gone differently.”

“I would have told you about the baby,” she said with a soft smile. “I sometimes imagine that we could have been a family.”

“Come here, Doc,” he told her, sitting down and crossing his legs. Marlena crawled nearer, and wanting to be as close as she possibly could, she straddled his lap, wrapping her legs around him snugly, and she melted into him. Her arms encircled his waist and she closed her eyes as peace ensconced her.

“I wanted this,” she whispered. “When I came home to Salem, all I wanted was my husband and my children. And, I know… I have that, but what I really wanted was this. This comfort. This connection. You.”

John couldn’t help himself. His lips landed gently on the top of her head, and he lifted her face to his, tracing his thumbs over her cheeks. He was worried about her. “Does Roman care for you? Does he love you? Does he make you coffee in the morning and rub your feet after work? Because…you seem so sad. I sense…that you’re hiding things from me. Is this what you do? Do you show people what you think they want to see?”

“Roman wants me happy. If I’m not…it becomes an issue bigger than it needs to be.” She was quiet for a long moment, before she said, “So, I’m happy. I work a lot. I take care of Eric and Sami. They have sports and clubs.”

John still felt as if she were trying to cover, “Is Roman involved in their activities? Does he take them to practices or games?”

“Roman…works a lot,” she replied haltingly. “It’s fine.” She suddenly felt so tired. Thinking about Roman, and her life with him, coming to terms with her loneliness, she wasn’t ready to face it. If they were rescued, the expectation would be that she’d be happy to go back. She wasn’t sure she would be. John continued to stare at her, and she whispered, “I’ll admit that sometimes I’m lonely, but I find ways to fill the time.” 

The weight of her body resting against him brought him comfort, even in the heat of the day. John decided not to push the issue. He was already aware of what she wasn’t saying, and there was no reason to force her to say it aloud. He cradled her, rubbing his hands gently over the curve of her back, “I’ve missed so much time with you. Tell me about the twinners.”

“They’re in Colorado right now, with my parents for the summer. At least until the end of August. Sami…she struggled when you left. She felt abandoned. Roman couldn’t understand it, even though I tried so hard to explain it. You were the only father she had ever known, and I think a part of her didn’t believe that you would go. She thought that Carrie would stop you from leaving that night and bring you back to the house. She really–”

“–Carrie?” John heard her words as if they were an echo in his mind. She thought Carrie would stop you from leaving that night. “Carrie came to the airport that night?”

She stared at John, watching the way the shades of blue in his eyes fractured into the daytime sky and deep midnight in the afternoon sun. Glancing away, she told him, “I–um, when I got to the house that night, it was full of people. I was overwhelmed. Even thinking about it now, I find myself overwhelmed. I mentioned to you that Roman had planned a surprise anniversary party for me. Almost as soon as I arrived he mentioned sending Carrie to the airport to stop you from leaving. I remember feeling fear grip my gut, and looking over at her quickly. There was something in her eyes. Something more…” Marlena’s voice drifted off, and she was very quiet for a long span of time, and then she said softly, “I never asked her what she’d seen, and… she never brought it up.”

“Do you think–”

“–I don’t know,” she whispered, laying her cheek against his chest. The sound of his heart calmed her, and she closed her eyes again. “I had so much guilt and shame. I could never bring myself to ask her. But you leaving that night affected more than me…more than you. Sami seemed to spiral out of control. At eight years old she couldn’t understand how complicated it was, and her sadness only served to anger Roman. He wanted an instant connection with the children. After all, he is their father, but he was a stranger to them, and his outbursts of jealousy over you only served to push them further away. Eric seemed to turn inward. He became quiet and reserved…the only things he showed enthusiasm for are coin collecting and baseball. Both are activities he associates with you, and that irritates Roman even further. I think…I find that I spend most of my time trying to keep the peace in the house…and…it’s exhausting.”

John hadn’t realized or even considered that his leaving Salem would have such far reaching ramifications. After their return from Mexico, he’d gone to live with Isabella, and Roman had seemed to step into his past life with little effort. John had hoped to maintain a relationship with the twins, but Roman had continued to keep him away, saying he needed time with them. 

“I wanted to see them, but Roman kept telling me to stay away. He seemed to think that having me around would confuse them,” John told her.

“What?” Marlena asked. She leaned back to study John’s face with curiosity. “He never told me you wanted to see the children. I thought…they thought…”

“You know me, Doc!” John told her forcefully. He brushed a lock of her hair from her face. “I would die for my kids. I would do anything for them. I’d do anything for you! I wouldn’t walk away unless I felt–”

She needed space. Feeling suddenly as if the act of getting air was the hardest thing she had ever done. Scrambling backwards, Marlena broke free of John’s embrace. She stood quickly, and felt the world start to spin around her. Roman had lied to her. He’d manipulated her, just as he’d done in Mexico with Isabella. He’d told her, John agreed it was best for him to stay away for a while. She remembered feeling frustrated that the two of them had discussed it without including her. Now, in a few short sentences, she’d learned that Roman had lied about the whole conversation.

She stared down at John, emotion overwhelming her, and her eyes filling with tears. She needed clarification. She needed to know without a doubt what Roman had done. “You asked Roman if you could see the children?”

Getting to his feet, he approached her, gripping her face with his large hands, “Doc, think about it! Really think about it.”

“He kept you away,” she whispered in defeat. “He kept you away, and he told me you agreed. That you agreed it was the best for the twins…for Carrie. And I doubted it. I doubted it, but I never…I should have come to you, because it destroyed them, but I didn’t want to rock the boat with Roman, and he was so damned sensitive about anything involving you. Roman keeping you away left them feeling scared and abandoned! How could he do that to them? How could I allow him to do that? It’s so selfish, John! It’s so selfish!”

“Doc…Doc, hey baby,” John said, trying to get her attention. He wiped the tears from her face, and he whispered, “It’s not your fault! I should have come to you, and I didn’t. Being near you was so difficult– that I didn’t come to you, and I take responsibility for that. Maybe…I can try to fix it…with Eric and Sami.”

“How? How, John? When you don’t live anywhere near us? When I know that Roman will continue to put up roadblocks?” she cried in frustration. “He lied to me in Mexico…finding out that he lied about your conversation regarding the twins… I’m confused, and I’m angry, because he’s manipulated me. I’ve trusted him implicitly…and maybe that was a mistake.”

“I didn’t lose contact with Carrie,” John replied softly, tipping his head down to stare into her eyes. He wanted to reassure her that some things were still right. “Even when I was living in Palermo. We spoke every week.” She looked up at him, her eyes full of tears, but lit with curiosity. John told her, “We had scheduled phone calls, Doc. Usually early in the morning for her, nearly quitting time for me, but we didn’t miss one. Not one in two years, because no matter what, I’m her father.”

Marlena smiled softly, thinking about how happy that made her. Carrie and Roman were nearly always at odds about something. Knowing she had John to fall back on, for his love and his support, gave her a deep sense of relief. “What would you talk about?” she asked him.

John reached for her hand, tugging her close, and he enveloped her in his arms. “We talked about school once. She was reluctant to sign up at Salem University for a while, but I managed to convince her to start taking classes.”

Marlena’s eyes widened, “I wondered why she changed her mind so suddenly! I was encouraging her, but Roman kept pushing–”

“One thing I know about Carrie, Doc. It has to feel like her idea. Pushing her and arguing with her will make it more likely that she refuses. She is so much like Anna. More than she would ever care to admit. Mere stubbornness for the sake of being right.”

Marlena’s head fell back with a hoot of laughter, and John smiled. The line of her neck was a work of art. His first impulse was to lean forward and breathe her in. His second was to lick the entire length, before sucking on her earlobe. He didn’t do either, but when Marlena lifted her head, and his eyes caught hers, she knew. He didn’t even have to touch her, and she could already imagine what he wanted to do.

The rough sound of John clearing his throat filled the air, and he said, “Hey, we have some more cameras to find and destroy! What was the score again?”

Smiling at him, she said, “Three for me and one for you–”

“–well, technically two for me, since I found the one the other day–”

“–it doesn’t count,” she said quickly. 

“Doesn’t count? It doesn’t count?” He took a step towards her, and said again, “I think that’s a little unfair, baby. All cameras found and located should count.”

Marlena looked at him mischievously, and turned away quickly, shouting over her shoulder, “I guess if you really need that one–”

John ran after her as she started to walk away. His arms looped around her waist, picking her off of her feet, and spinning her around. He said in a laughing tone, “I don’t really need that one. You’ll see.” 

She glanced back at him while he held her tightly, the sunlight caught her eyes, and her face glowed with happiness. John wished that she could look that happy for the rest of her life. She smiled up at him, wrenching free. Over her shoulder, she laughed, “Okay!” And then, she wrenched another small camera from the tree in front of them. “Four for me, and one for you!”

He watched her smash the camera with a rock, and felt more joy in that moment, than he had felt in years. More joy than he’d felt since before Orpheus took her, and both of their lives had changed forever.

Chapter 31

Pier 14, Salem

The moonlight shone on the water, as the soft lap of waves against the pilings filled the air around Roman. He’d been standing there staring at absolutely nothing for over an hour, but he couldn’t seem to find the energy or the motivation to move from the spot he found himself rooted in. His whole family was directing varying levels of anger at him. Kim empathized so much with Marlena, that she’d been unable to see his perspective at all. Bo was still mourning Hope’s death five years later. It was the reason his relationship with Carly had failed. To Bo, it didn’t matter what Marlena had done, Roman should be grateful that his wife was alive. Roman’s father felt responsible for every dastardly deed Stefano DiMera had ever inflicted on the Brady family. Abe loved and respected Marlena and John both – to such an extent, that no matter how they had hurt Roman, none of it mattered. Shane seemed to empathize with Roman, but ultimately Marlena was family, and as much as Roman hated it, so was John. 

His mother wouldn’t even meet his eyes, and he understood why.  Marlena’s affair with John brought up a lot of emotions for her. Roman had briefly considered that his anger towards Marlena was so extreme, because he was transferring the anger he felt at his mother as a result of her affair with Victor. Since his return, just the sight of his mother and Victor in the same room infuriated him. He knew that everything related to Bo’s paternity and his mothers affair had been settled years earlier, but he’d never really been able to fully express his disappointment on the subject. However, as soon as he started thinking like that, he pushed it down. The last thing he needed was his wife’s psychobabble in his head trying to analyze him. He was angry with Marlena because she had been unfaithful, but more specifically, over who she had been unfaithful with. There was no other reason. 

If anyone understood the mixture of fury and bitterness he was feeling, it was Rebecca. None of his family could possibly understand how he was feeling. None of them could understand the depths of betrayal he felt, because it was complicated by their feelings for John and Marlena. That left him with Rebecca.

Firm footsteps sounded on the wood of the pier. Roman decided immediately that they were female. Turning around, he was surprised to see Rebecca stepping out of the fog. He’d never really paid much attention to her, but in a split second, when the dim light and the dense air obscured his view of her, all he could focus on was the curve of her hips and the long line of her legs. Dressed simply in a pair of heels with blue jeans, and a red blazer, she cast an image of stature. He was momentarily knocked off guard. He’d never considered that he had a type before, and for some reason the thought irritated him.

“Rebecca,” he said, clearing his throat. “What are you doing down here so late? The piers are nowhere to be alone after 8 pm.”

“And yet, you’re here,” she said with a sardonic smile. The clack of her heels on the thick wood came closer to him. “I needed to think.”

“Can’t you do that at the Kiriakis mansion? Why come slumming down here?” he said, eyeing her warily. He was not in the mood to be socializing.

“John talks about this river like it holds the secrets of the world,” she said bitterly, staring out over the water. “I–I thought maybe…” She wasn’t sure what she thought she would gain from coming down to the river. She’d simply gathered her purse, and left the house. 

Roman could hear the hurt in her voice, although with what he knew of Rebecca Morrison, she would be too proud to ever admit it. John’s words had hurt her, as much as Marlena’s confession had hurt him. But it was more than their words, it was their tone, and Roman thought that Marlena’s tone when she spoke to John was the most hurtful part of it all. There was no disguising how much she cared for him still. There was no way to cover up the love she felt. Roman eyed Rebecca for a moment, struck by the way the light of the moon played off of her features. Both of them were hovering in a space between love and hate, wondering what their spouses were up to at that very moment.

“I was getting ready to go to the Cheatin’ Heart for a beer,” he said casually.

“Is that an invitation?” she asked him with a smirk.

“You too good for a dive bar, Becky?” he said, turning to start walking in the other direction. Since they were both angry and bitter they could drown themselves in alcohol.

“I’ll have you know, during law school I waitressed at a dive bar,” she said following him. “I can do every line dance there is, while holding a tray full of beers.”

Roman laughed for the first time in nearly two weeks. “I’d like to see that. The esteemed Rebecca Morrison fighting off drunks as they try to grope her ass, and line dancing to Footloose.”

Refusing to allow him to have the upper hand, she replied, “The tips are better if you let them grope your ass, Roman. You should know that.”

He laughed again, realizing that when he was much younger, and dumber, he may have tried to grab a waitress or two when he was drunk. He may have also tipped a little higher too. He stopped at the stairs, allowing Rebecca to go in front of him, and stared at her butt the whole way up. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Gauley River Valley, West Virginia

“Papi!” he cried. “Papi! Sono io! Sono io! [It’s me! It’s me!]”

Stefano laughed, “Ah, young Giovanni. He no longer recognizes you, so your cries will fall on deaf ears. Say goodbye to your Papi. Say goodbye. He has another responsibility to attend to.” Stefano turned toward the man that Gionanni knew only as his father for the last seventeen years, and he said. “You know your assignment, Mason.”

“I do, Mr. DiMera,” he replied in a voice lacking emotion.

Giovanni watched helplessly as his father, responding to another name, turned to leave the room, and walk out of his life. How did he not recognize him? How could he leave him? “Papi!” he called, pulling against the restraints that held him in the chair. “No! No! Papi!”

“Rolf! Shut him up!” Stefano roared. “I want the microchip placed tonight. I cannot tolerate his incessant whining any longer!” Looking at Giovanni, he said in a heartless voice, “Mason was never your father. Say goodbye, Giovanni. When you wake up this will all be over.”

John woke abruptly, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He sat up, pulling his t-shirt off, and wiped his face with it. He couldn’t breathe, feeling as if he was dragging air in through a straw. Standing up quickly, hoping he didn’t disturb Marlena beside him, he made his way towards the fireplace. Unable to remain standing, he sank to his knees, staring into the dying flames.

His dream had been the first solid memory of Mason that John could place in time and space. His name wasn’t Mason, it was Luca. Everything else was fleeting, but this one was solid. There was no wondering, what if? Mason had been a part of his life. So much a part of it that John’s heart still ached with the pain of losing him. Running his fingers through his hair, he said softly, “Fuck…is he my father?” Stefano had said he wasn’t, but John felt strongly that Mason had played a significant enough role in his life that, as Giovanni, he’d certainly perceived Mason to be his father. 

He tried to piece together other memories he’d had of Mason. He remembered struggling to pull in the fishing net with the man whose face had been cast in the shadow of the sun, and a much younger version of Mason tying his shoe as a child. Then there were the similarities in their features, the long regal line of their noses, the dark, almost black hair, and the eyes. There was no denying the eyes. They were definitely related. John was certain of it. He was also certain that Mason’s memory had been tampered with in the same way his had. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Cheatin’ Heart, Salem

Roman glanced up as he heard the bell over the door of the bar jangle loudly. He groaned in irritation, while his brother and Abe stood staring at him disapprovingly, but he was too drunk to care. Rebecca sat across the table watching him, and as her eyes switched between him, and their new visitors, she burst into laughter, nearly knocking over her beer. “Looks like we’re in trouble,” she said with a giggle, taking another deep gulp of her beer.

“Fuck,” Roman mumbled. “I bet Steve called them.” Roman eyed the bartender with disapproval through the smoky haze, but the man wouldn’t make eye contact. Instead he wandered the length of the bar, cleaning and wiping down surfaces.

“Hey, Roman,” Abe said approaching. “It’s almost closing time. Why don’t I give you and Rebecca a ride home?”

“I know Steve called you, and I don’t need a fucking ride,” Roman said, getting to his feet unsteadily. “I can walk.”

Roman could barely stand on two feet. Bo knew where the whole situation could go, and that was downhill fast. Roman was stubborn as hell normally. Intoxicated he was downright belligerent. “Hey big brother,” Bo said. “Pop raised you better than that. There’s a lady with you, and Rebecca needs to be helped home. You’re both pretty drunk.”

Rebecca laughed again, staring up at Bo, “I haven’t been drunk in years. I forgot how fun it is.”

Roman hooted loudly, stumbling slightly with the force of his laughter, “I gotta say, when you woosen…uh…loosen up a bit, you’re not such a tight ass.”

She leaned forward clumsily, staring at Roman intently, “And I have to say that when you’re drunk, you’re not nearly such a pushy know it all.” 

Abe looked at Bo with a smirk, “She’s got him pegged.”

“Besides,” Rebecca continued. “I can’t go home like this…I need to…what do I need to do?” She looked at Abe with a watery smile, “Oh! Can you take me to… the Salem Inn? Because I’m not going back to Victor’s drunk. The staff there are nothing but a bunch of gossips.” She said to Roman in a loud whisper, “They talk about everybody in this town.”

“We’re not a taxi service,” Bo mumbled in annoyance. “You can sleep it off on the couch at Roman’s place.”

“The couch?” she said in distaste. “How inviting.”

“Thas alright,” Roman slurred. “I got a–a…I have a…guest room. It smells like the tiny soaps Doc keeps in the bathroom…shaped like seashells and shit.”

Abe and Bo shared a look at Roman’s description of the bathroom decor with matching smirks of humor, but they said nothing. 

Staying at Roman’s place was the last thing she wanted to do, but the drunken haze she was in was starting to make her sleepy, so she didn’t plan on putting up a fight. She stood up, and was instantly unsteady on her feet. She laughed again, leaning heavily on Abe, and removed the high heels she was wearing. Handing them to Abe, she asked him, “Can you hold these for me?”

Abe was surprised. Drunk Rebecca was very different from her usual tightly wound version. Staring between Roman and Rebecca he asked, “Okay, you two ready to go?”

“Abe?” Bo said. “You got this? ‘Cause I’m going to head back to the Fancy Face and try to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, Bo. I got it.” Abe turned to find Roman and Rebecca laughing over something. Rebecca fell into Roman, and with a sigh Abe told them, “Let’s go kids.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Gauley River, West Virginia

Marlena watched John from her spot on the bed. He’d been staring into the fireplace for nearly an hour, but she hadn’t interrupted him. She’d pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and waited. He would come back to bed eventually. The fire was dying, but even in the dying light, John was beautiful. His hair was so dark, it shone blue when the waning light touched it. His shirt lay discarded beside her, and she slowly pulled it towards her, lifting it to her nose. His scent filled her with comfort. When they were married, there were times when he left early in the mornings for work, and she could remember rolling to his side of the bed, rubbing her face into his pillow. She would fall back to sleep surrounded by him. Sometimes she felt as if those were the times she would sleep the best, aside from being wrapped in his arms.

John heard the springs in the bed creak, as Marlena’s weight shifted, and he turned to find her watching him. The gold light from the fireplace reflected off of her hazel eyes. He realized she had his t-shirt up to her nose, and he said softly, “Doc, it’s dirty. I was sweating all over it.”

“I don’t care,” she said softly. “It smells like you, and you is the best smell. What are you thinking about?”

“I’m having more memories,” he told her, getting to his feet. Feeding a couple logs into the fire, and making sure the coals caught, he finally turned, walking across the hardwood floor. “I’m remembering Mason. I have been for a while, but I… I was confused, so I was keeping it to myself.”

“Mason,” she said barely above a whisper. “I’ve wondered since I first saw him. There are striking similarities.” She leaned towards him as he sank into the bed beside her. Marlena lifted the cover, and scooted down next to him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She was always so selfless when it came to helping him. “Doc, you’ve been kidnapped. I think you have enough to worry about without doing therapy on–”

“–what else are we going to do trapped here?” she asked him. “Seriously, John. We’ve found every single camera, beside the ones we spotted out of our reach. The cabin is clear–”

“–we think the cabin is clear, Doc. But we can’t be sure,” he told her. 

“Well, either way, we have a lot of time to fill. We could try hypnosis. I’ve spent the better part of the last two years conducting research on retrograde amnesia. I have a waiting list almost six months out for patients being referred to me,” she told him proudly.

“What?” John was surprised. Not that she was so renowned, but that her focus was amnesia.

“When you left, you consumed my every thought. I couldn’t focus on work, or Roman, or the children. I needed to find a way to take my thoughts of you and channel them into something else. Something worthwhile. So I started doing research on amnesia, specifically retrograde amnesia. Eventually, I started being invited to conferences and seminars. I was meeting other specialists in the field, and being sent case files from all over the world.” 

“Doc, that’s amazing! I–I didn’t know. You never said…when I called.”

Marlena thought about her two birthday phone calls with John with an ache in her chest. Her secretary Chelsea had patched through the call, and tears came to her eyes as soon as she heard, Hey, Doc. Hearing his softly spoken words over the telephone reminded her of their baby, and of all the nights she’d stifled her cries in bed beside Roman. She’d barely been able to keep those emotions pent up inside her the day John called, because what could she do? Let them out? It wouldn’t change a thing, so she had a conversation that never got deeper than how are you doing? and how are the kids? Once the phone call was over, she’d canceled the rest of her appointments for the day, and she sat at her desk and sobbed. Quietly, without elaborating, she told John, “I was caught off guard when you called. Both times.”

He felt like there was so much she wasn’t saying, and he misunderstood what she was saying, “I would never forget your birthday.”

She needed to be honest with him, but being honest hurt so much. “I know…I guess I was more surprised that you called. As much as I craved the sound of your voice, the calls haunted me for weeks. I would fantasize about going to Italy and running into your arms. I would dream of you nearly every night–”

“–I’m sorry,” he told her. “Both times I called, I…I debated for hours whether or not I should. The part of me that decided it was best to leave Salem knew I shouldn’t call you…but dammit, Doc, the selfish part of me, the part that still craved you and wanted you…that was the person who called you.”

Marlena lifted herself up on her elbow, so that she could look down into John’s face. Her fingers traced lightly over his mouth, and she whispered, “Don’t ever apologize for that. Those phone calls, as much as they hurt, they made me happy…because they meant you hadn’t forgotten me.”

The heat of the fire filled the room, causing the firelight to flicker over John’s angular face. Marlena continued trailing her fingertips over his skin, sinking them into a week’s worth of facial hair, so soft underneath her hand.

She was so damned beautiful it made his chest flutter. He wanted to roll her onto her back, kiss her…make love to her. He wanted all of it. John swallowed thickly, barely able to get his next words out, “Did you think I had…forgotten you?”

“The first time you called, it was a Thursday. John, you left in February…I didn’t hear from you until October. Eight months…yes, I guess I thought you’d forgotten me,” she told him. Marlena couldn’t stop touching him. Her fingertips trailed down the side of his neck, and across his collarbone, and she almost moaned with how much more she wanted. His skin pebbled, and she watched him shiver, obviously feeling the same things she was. 

John rolled her onto her back, staring down into her wide eyes, “You, Dr. Evans, are a woman I will never forget.” Marlena moaned low in her throat when John’s weight settled on her, and his mouth came down on hers, giving her exactly what she wanted. 

Chapter 32

Marlena and Roman Brady Residence

The door closed softly behind Abe, and Rebecca tossed her purse on the couch. “Please tell me you have some champagne or wine in this house.”

“Marlena keeps the wine in the kitchen…not in the kitchen…kind of in the kitchen,” Roman said. He couldn’t seem to get his thoughts together. “She doesn’t want the kids getting into it,” he said. “I need another beer.”

Rebecca stared after him in surprise, as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it to the side carelessly. She stared down at his shirt, and then studied his back as he disappeared into the kitchen. He was well built. His muscles coiled in his back as he stretched, and she scanned him with her eyes. Roman was more compact than John. He also lacked chest hair. Rebecca couldn’t understand how it was even possible for Marlena to confuse the two. Roman was built nothing like John. She was still lost in her thoughts when she heard Roman call from the kitchen, “White or red?” What were they talking about?

She kicked her shoes off in front of the couch, and followed Roman into the kitchen. Rebecca stopped short, staring at Roman’s body as he leaned into the refrigerator. Standing up, he pulled out two beers, and stared at Rebecca with an odd look on his face.

He couldn’t understand what was happening between them. She was not his type at all. Or was she? She was bossy. She was a brunette. She was a know-it-all. Wait. Didn’t she call him a know-it-all? Roman was having a hard time gathering his thoughts. But she was also smart, a professional. She was sassy, and she took no bullshit. Maybe he did have a type.

Being exceedingly drunk he found himself wanting to ask her things, or make statements that he knew were improper, and yet his inhibitions were lowered, and his sense of self control was wavering. If he wanted to know things about John, he had a primary source right in front of him.

It was obvious that he had something to say. Rebecca took the red wine from the counter, and sat down at the kitchen table. She stared at the bottle in her hand wondering how she was going to open it, and then glanced up to find Roman still looking at her oddly. “What?” she asked him. “If you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”

“I was just wondering something,” he said, walking to the table to sit across from her. He popped the cap off of his beer and took a long swill, holding the cold brew in his mouth for a moment before he swallowed it down. “Hold on,” he told her, standing up and grabbing a corkscrew from the drawer. 

Rebecca was silent, watching him open the wine. He was definitely well built. She laughed out loud when he handed her a coffee mug, and an open bottle of wine, “Really?”

“What?” he replied defensively. “Look, we’re both drunk as hell, Becky. You get a mug.”

She knew he was trying to antagonize her, and she told him, “Stop calling me, Becky.” Pouring a liberal amount of red wine into the mug, Rebecca asked him, “So get to it, Brady…wondering what?”

“What kind of lover is John?’

Rebecca snorted loudly, pushing her thick brown curls out of her face, “Why would you want to know that?”

“I just wonder…as much as the idea of John making love to my wife in our bedroom bothers me, I can’t stop wondering if–”

“–you want to know if their lovemaking was confined to the bedroom?”

Roman felt the heat rushing to his cheeks, but he didn’t answer her question. He couldn’t, because his biggest fear was that there was a side to his wife that had completely escaped him. 

Images of John with Marlena accosted Rebecca. There was no denying the woman was beautiful. People flocked to her like bees to honey, and she didn’t even try. Rebecca couldn’t figure out if she hated Marlena for being the all-American blonde, or if she hated her because John cared for her. Probably both. She said with frustration, “If John lived here with Marlena as his wife…then he has fucked her in every room in this house, and probably her office.”

“Marlena would never make love in her office!” Roman said in drunken outrage. “Never!”

“I said that once,” Rebecca laughed derisively. John would have fucked Marlena on every available surface in her office, and knowing that had a jealousy that was usually at a simmer, ready to boil over. “And then John fucked me against the wall in my private bathroom. He’s a very…aggressive lover.”

“Marlena…Doc’s not like that,” he said. But his tone held very little conviction. He wasn’t sure, that much was obvious. Images of John and Marlena in her office bombarded his drunk mind. The desk, the bathroom, the couch…against the wall. He shook his head in frustration. Fodder for more nightmares.

Finishing the wine in the mug, Rebecca poured herself some more. The room was spinning, but if she was going to have this conversation, then she needed to be very drunk. “To be with John, you have to be like that. He’s forceful. He likes being in charge, and he makes you want it. I crave it.”

Roman thought about the dream he’d had where John had Marlena tied to the bedpost. How far from the truth was a dream like that? He was just drunk enough to ask the man’s wife. “So he…what? Does he tie you up?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Rebecca said with a flirtatious grin, while standing up on wobbly feet. She dropped her empty mug in the kitchen sink, and walked out of the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “So where’s the guest room?”

Roman felt himself getting angrier. Why wouldn’t she just answer the fucking question? It was as if she found the whole situation humorous. Was it true? Had John made love to Marlena in every room of their home? Rebecca seemed pretty certain that he had, and wouldn’t she know him best? He picked up his beer bottle, flinging it against the wall, watching with satisfaction as the glass shattered, just like his whole life. 

As Roman was leaving the kitchen, he came face to face with Rebecca. She stared at the glass on the floor with wide eyes, and he pushed her through to the dining room, holding her against the wall by her shoulders. He stared at her breathing heavily. He knew he should let her go, and step back. Instead he rasped, “Is this what John does? He takes away your control, and you beg for more?”

Rebecca stared up at him in surprise, and whispered, “Yes.” She couldn’t figure out why her heart was racing, why the smell of beer on his breath didn’t turn her off, or why she had a growing ache deep in her core.

“Why?” he demanded. He pushed her shoulders back hard, once, and stared at her, “Why would you want this?”

“Because…” she purred. The ache inside her was growing, and she tipped her head forward, whispering, “If I tell him to stop, he will…Don’t tell me this doesn’t turn you on, Roman?”

Roman was overwhelmed, roaring, “It doesn’t turn Marlena on!” But he knew she was telling the truth, it did turn him on. Feeling the length of her body beneath his, had him craving more. He could feel the blood surging to his cock, even as he tried to deny it. But more with Rebecca? What he should have done was walk away, but he knew he wouldn’t.

“Are you sure?” Rebecca taunted. She’d never liked Marlena. She was smug. She carried herself with an air of superiority that Rebecca had always struggled with. Rebecca’s parents had struggled and fought for everything they ever had. Marlena carried herself like someone who had never gone without, and Rebecca despised her for it. “To be with John…she liked it. Roman, she liked it. He’ll have that conceited bitch on her knees begging for it.”

Several long beats went by, as his eyes darted between hers and her mouth. He didn’t think he’d ever seen eyes that reflected amber shades back. Deep brown eyes that pulled him in. He watched as her pupils fluctuated. Even knowing it was wrong, a part of him wondered if this was how Marlena felt the night she’d cheated on him? Emotions of want mixed with guilt.

His mouth was on hers with a viciousness neither one of them could have predicted. Rebecca moaned into Roman, opening to him. They should stop, she understood that, but in the back of her mind she felt the same bitterness she’d felt earlier on the pier. She wouldn’t stop this. She imagined her husband fucking Marlena against the same wall that Roman pinned her to, and she had a fleeting thought that once she was sober she would regret it, but then her mind screamed at her. He deserves this! He lied to you! And she had to admit, there was a part of her that wanted to hurt the beautiful Marlena Evans as well.

Roman’s mind was lost in an alcohol fueled fog. How could Marlena like this…this loss of control? She was the most controlled person he knew? She needed soft touches, and gentle caresses. His mind was in chaos as he continued to bite at Rebecca’s mouth, allowing his tongue to slide over hers. Marlena was a soft lover. Wasn’t she? But maybe…maybe she needed something more…She wasn’t the same woman he’d left behind back in 1984, and he was only recently coming to understand that.

Roman pulled back. His inhibitions were gone, and Rebecca was staring at him with a fierce, challenging look. She was daring him to do something more than simply hold her against the wall, and kiss her. His rational mind was being drowned out by alcohol, and he could barely hear it telling him to let go of her, and walk away. He should go upstairs and sleep off whatever madness had taken hold of him. He glanced again at her kiss swollen lips, and rested his forehead on hers with a sigh, “What the fuck am I doing?”

Rebecca didn’t care. She certainly didn’t want to stop. This was the type of thing that drove her in the courtroom. It was all about the challenge, and winning at any cost. Her lust was fueled by anger, and betrayal. She wanted to hurt John and his precious Marlena as much as they’d hurt her. Roman was a means to an end, and she was drunk enough to ignore the ramifications.

“Roman,” she whispered. “What do you think they’re doing right now?”

He lifted his head quickly, feeling a combination of boiling hate and desire as he pictured John sinking his cock into Marlena’s wet, silken depths. “Shut up!” he said forcefully, shaking her for emphasis. “Shut the fuck up!”

Rebecca slowly shrugged off his hands, and lifted her arms over her head, crossing one wrist over the other, and she told him, “John likes to be in control. Not all of the time…but most of the time.”

Roman could smell the wine on her breath, and her words cast a spell over him. He couldn’t think clearly, and she was taunting him. The look of dare in her eyes urged him on. Roman lifted one arm, gripping her wrists tightly in his fist, and he leaned in more heavily, fully pinning her against the wall. “Is this what you wanted? Is this what John does? He takes away all of your power?”

Rebecca’s head fell back against the wall with a dull thump, and she hissed, “Yes…” She could feel the line of Roman’s cock pressed against her soft abdomen, and she knew he wanted this as much as she did. Her eyes opened partially, and she said softly, “John likes to bite, and suck the skin across my shoulders–”

“Fuck John Black,” Roman growled. He leaned forward, lapping his tongue across her mouth, and he murmured, “Fuck John…”

A soft moan escaped her as she considered Roman Brady’s lovemaking style. Her breath exhaled gently against his mouth. Roman released her hands, allowing them to slowly slide down the wall, then he bit her lip roughly, causing her to cry out. Flutters erupted in her chest, and she felt her body tense. The throbbing in her core intensified. Staring at him intently, Rebecca bucked her hips against his cock, and she whispered, “Show me what you got.”

Whatever tether to common sense he had been clinging too broke in that instant. “Fuck woman!” Roman moaned. What was it about her? What was it about her challenging him, and daring him to take it one step further? She had his cock throbbing painfully in his jeans. There was no turning back. “Take the jacket off.”

Rebecca smiled at him, slowly unbuttoning the blazer she was wearing. Spreading it wide, she shrugged it from her shoulders, and handed it to Roman with an air of arrogance. He reached for it, tossing it onto the breakfast hutch, and then he said roughly, “The jeans, too, counselor.”

Moisture leaked from her center, and she felt she could orgasm from a simple touch. Counselor? Why did that have her ready to suck his cock where he stood? Rebecca decided to file that tidbit away for later. Sexy lawyer talk turned her on. As she started to unbutton her jeans, she said, “Is that an order Detective Brady?”

Any moisture that had been in his mouth was suddenly gone, “Fuck…get the G-d damned pants off now.” He nearly lost his mind when her deep brown eyes caught his, and she shimmied her jeans down over her hips. She liked it rough, she had said as much, when she taunted him with John’s prowess as a lover. If she liked it rough, that’s what she was going to get.

Kicking the jeans away with her stocking covered foot, Rebecca almost smirked at the hungriness with which Roman eyed her body. She could only imagine what he saw. She reached down, crossing her arms in front of herself, and gripped the hem of her tank top. Pulling it up, and over her head, she felt her breasts fall heavily. She nearly lost her balance as dizziness swept over her, and she found herself almost giggling at the hilarity of it all. 

She loved her husband. She loved John, but she was getting ready to allow Roman Brady to fuck her in any manner he chose, just to…what? Exact revenge? Satisfy her ego? She wasn’t sure. Another urge to giggle took hold, and she forced it back. 

Roman had been fantasizing about making love to Marlena on the dining room table. Her body splayed out like an offering, with her legs spread wide. Reaching for Rebecca, he pulled her forward. She stumbled towards him with a pretty little smug smirk on her face, and Roman gripped her thick hair in his fist, pulling her head back slightly. He stared at her for a moment, giving her one last chance to put an end to what they were about to do. “Tell me to stop this.”

“No.”

One single word, and his decision was made. “Fuck,” he said, releasing her. “Turn around and lay yourself across the table.”

She could feel the wetness on the inside of her legs, and without much thought, she turned, facing the table. Her thighs hit the edge of the table, and she could hear Roman behind her, pulling at his zipper, followed by the rough sound of denim being pushed down his legs. Rebecca shivered, waiting…willing him to touch her.

Her body was nothing like Marlena’s. Rebecca was more angular, less curves. Roman ran the palm of his hand up the center of her back, pushing her forward onto the table. He watched as she flinched slightly when her breasts touched the table. With a soft chuckle, he leaned forward, pressing his turgid cock against her backside, and he ran his hands over the tops of her thigh high stockings. Roughly, he hooked his fingers in the elastic of her panties and started to pull them off. “You won’t be needing these, counselor.”

That word again. She couldn’t help but respond with a soft moan of arousal, as she felt the lacy fabric slither down her legs. 

With panties caught around her ankle, Roman stepped forward, slapping her ass roughly, “You like that, Rebecca? Do you like a little legalese dirty talk in the sack?” She didn’t respond, only moaning again, and lifted her rounded ass towards him. 

He was driving her insane. Why wouldn’t he touch her? His words inflamed her to the point that she could feel her swollen sex throbbing against the table. Rebecca rasped out, “Stop teasing me, Roman, and fuck me.”

“Spread those legs wider, Becky. I want to slide into you hard and fast,” he told her. Roman spread his palm over the globe of her ass, squeezing her flesh tightly, and he listened as Rebecca moaned out her satisfaction. Lifting his hand, he smacked her again, and then reached down, probing her pussy with his index finger. He hadn’t realized how much she was buying into this little game, until his finger slid into her swollen sex with no resistance. “Fuck…”

Roman hooked his finger, rubbing and pushing on her g-spot, and he watched in awe as her body shook almost immediately, and she threw her head back with a high pitched scream. Would Marlena react like this? If he was forceful, and rough and bossy…would she cry out in ecstasy? He closed his eyes, settling one hand on Rebecca’s hip, and he slid the head of his cock through her moisture. Lining himself up, he pushed into her with one hard thrust. 

“Fuck!” he roared. Flashes of light in pitch black took over his vision momentarily. “Fuck…” he groaned more softly. The room was spinning, and it took everything he had to keep his legs from collapsing. He fell forward, resting against Rebecca’s back, and his hips thrust into her a few more times. He couldn’t stop. As much as he wanted to close his eyes and imagine he was making love to Marlena, he couldn’t. It wasn’t her body beneath him.

Roman slipped his hands under Rebecca’s limp form, and lifted her up, “Put your hands out, and hold yourself up.”

She could barely function after the orgasm he’d just given her, but she managed on wobbly arms to support her weight. This had started out as revenge against John, and revenge against Marlena, but Roman Brady was not a vanilla lover. Tipping her face back, looking over her shoulder, she asked him, “Are you always this bossy?”

He was in his life and in his job, but not in the bedroom. Rather than answer her, Roman slipped his arms under her, cupping her shoulders, and he slammed into her with a deep thrust, hitting her cervix hard.

“Fuck!” Rebecca cried as another orgasm took hold of her. “Fuck, fuck fuck…”

Her pussy squeezed and rolled over the length of his cock, and Roman exploded in her depths, lost in the sensation. His eyes closed as his body shook, and he imagined Marlena’s body held tightly against his. 

Rebecca sagged in his arms, trying to regroup and ground herself after the most mind blowing sex of her life. Still drunk, but sober enough to know she was going to regret what she’d done the following day, Rebecca heard Roman whisper softly, “Marlena…”

Chapter 33

Gauley River Valley, West Virginia

Sitting cross legged on the bed beside John, Marlena watched him with concern. Their session had started with John recalling a dinner with his father. Marlena had been able to confirm that the man John referred to as Papi was Mason, although as John had told her the night prior, Mason’s actual name was Luca. Marlena shifted in frustration, wishing she had access to a pen and paper, and she prayed she would recall the details when she brought John out of the hypnosis, or, even better, John remembered.

“Giovanni,” she asked softly, studying him as he became increasingly agitated. “Giovanni, can you tell me where you are?”

His voice was young, almost childlike, “In my bed…but something’s happening. I can hear…yelling. My Papi is screaming…” He was silent for a while and then he whispered, “I need to help…I want to help.” John curled into a fetal position, “Papi said…he always said…he made me promise…”

Marlena leaned forward, stroking John’s cheek gently, “Promise what? What did your Papi tell you?”

“If the men ever come to take us…I’m supposed to hide.”

“Are you hiding now?”

John’s voice came out, barely more than a soft breath, “Yes.” His body jerked suddenly, and he scrambled to get up from the bed, still lost in hypnosis, “Papi! No! Papi!”

“John!” Marlena said forcefully, getting his attention as she slipped from the bed to face him where he stood. He looked at her helplessly, caught somewhere between the past and the present. “I’m going to bring you out of this…remember what I said? I’m going to count down from ten, and when I reach one, you’ll open your eyes, and remember everything that just happened.”

A few moments later, just after Marlena whispered one, John’s eyes fluttered open, and he stared at Marlena through a haze of tears, unable to speak. He reached for her, pulling her into his arms, and crumpled to the floor with her. Her body shook with John’s sobs, and she heard him whisper, “I remember…I remember.” Relief coursed through her, because he remembered.

“Let me get you some water,” she told him softly, staring into his tear filled blue eyes. She reached up, wiping his nose with the back of her hand with a smile. When John cried, his nose always ran. She recalled wiping his nose as they stood in front of a church full of people the day they got married. She remembered so many occasions when he was overcome with emotion, and she had wiped at his nose for him…the time Carrie had been hit by a car, when she came out of her coma, and when Isabella lost Brady. 

She had pulled a tissue from her purse and wiped his nose for him at Isabella’s funeral, and later Roman had said to her in disgust, “He’s a grown man, Doc. He can wipe his own damned nose.” Roman didn’t understand the gesture at all, and Marlena was glad he didn’t, because it was more than Roman inferred, it was her way of saying to John, I love you…I still love you…

John continued to shake as Marlena maneuvered out of his arms, intent on getting him some water. “Doc, I need something stronger than water.” He stood up on wobbly legs, and walked towards the abandoned cabinet where he had hidden a bottle of gin he’d found in the basement. He’d been saving it as an antiseptic in case one of them was hurt, but his mind was awash with memories that confused him, and he needed something to calm his nerves. 

She said nothing, continuing to stand in the middle of the room. John reached for the gin, and she still said nothing, allowing him to process what he’d just seen and experienced in his mind on his own terms. 

He took a long steady gulp from the bottle, and closed his eyes, allowing himself to focus on the burn as it slid down his throat. His eyes opened slowly, and he said to Marlena, “Mason raised me. From as early as I can remember, until Stefano took us…he was my Papi.”

He seemed to recall more than what he’d mentioned during hypnosis, and Marlena asked in a voice rough with emotion, “How much do you remember?”

Tipping the bottle back, he took another long draw of gin. Swallowing it he stared at her, and he whispered, “I remember everything…not just Mason, but a childhood fishing in Sardinia, cousins, being taken by Stefano, being trained…I remember…” 

John’s voice dropped off, and Marlena stepped closer, “You can tell me. I can see the shame in your eyes, but I won’t judge you John. I would never judge you for what you did under Stefano’s control.”

His eyes locked with hers, and he said, “There were women I loved, a jewelry thief…Danielle, and later, an art forger named Gina…Doc, it’s as if I’m confused, but I’m not confused at all.”

“That’s normal, memory usually comes back in pieces, which allows an individual to process it. Having it return all at once…well, I imagine that can be very disorienting for you,” she told him, watching John take another drink of the gin. Reaching for the bottle, she said, “I think maybe you should stop drinking if we’re going to make sense of this.”

He smirked at her, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Pier 14, Salem

“I was looking for you,” Rebecca said softly, approaching Roman on the pier.

He didn’t even bother himself to look towards her, continuing to stare out over the water. “Funny, you know where I live,” he said sarcastically. He’d woken up that morning to find his bed empty where Rebecca had been lying only hours before.

“I–I went there first…I thought you might still be–”

“–asleep? In my bed?” Roman asked her, finally turning to face her. “No, I was up pretty early consumed with guilt. You were gone by then.”

“I’m sorry,” she told him softly. “I–I didn’t know what to do…I just knew that I couldn’t face you, not in that bedroom…not in that house…”

Roman snorted, looking back out over the river, “I guess I can understand that.” He felt a low throb begin in his cock, and he tried to think of something else. Anything else, but all day, he’d been picturing Rebecca’s body on the dining room table. All day he’d been remembering what it felt like to fuck Rebecca on the stairs…and later in his bed. The bed he shared with his wife. He had to push it out of his mind, but he couldn’t. He attempted to imagine Marlena, put his wife’s image in place of Rebecca, but it was impossible. It had worked momentarily, downstairs on the table. For the briefest moment, he’d closed his eyes, and imagined Marlena. That was it. The rest of it, most of it, had been Rebecca. Turning to look at her standing beside him, he wanted to push her against the pilings and kiss her again, which left him feeling confused, because he didn’t even like her.

Rebecca watched him, finally asking, “What’s going on in Detective Brady’s head?”

“What we did…the way we did it,” Roman told her carefully. “I can’t even imagine that with Marlena. She’s never been able to let go the way you… did.”

Marlena was wound so tight all the time. Rebecca could see it in the clothes she wore, the way she spoke, and even in her reactions to things. She had seen Marlena react to John, and then immediately school her features, looking around to see if someone had noticed her momentary lapse in control. Rebecca asked Roman softly, “Does she feel safe with you?”

Annoyed at Rebecca’s question, he cried, “Of course she feels safe, I’m her husband!”

Rebecca smirked, “That’s not what I meant. I mean, does Marlena feel emotionally safe with you? Safe enough to allow herself to let go of that control she wears like a fucking suit…because if she doesn’t…it won’t matter. She’ll never let go.”

“Stop with the psycho babble, counselor. I get enough of that shit with my wife,” Roman said in frustration, and yet, he was starting to have an idea. How many times had he tried to bully Marlena to get what he wanted? He’d never hit her, or physically hurt her, but he recalled other things. The day they’d married, he’d called her a fishwife. After his return he’d tried time after time to push John out of their lives. Then there were the things Marlena didn’t know about. His manipulation with Isabella. His lies about John agreeing to stay away from the children. Did his wife feel safe, or did he only imagine she did?

Rebecca scoffed, “Come on Roman! Don’t tell me you’ve never watched them together! You had to have seen the way he watched her. The way she watched him, always keeping that hold on him, even while the bitch pushed him away.”

“Stop calling my wife a bitch!” Roman roared. But he had seen that connection between John and his wife, and he knew where Rebecca’s train of thought was going.

Rebecca continued, “That’s why I left Salem. I’d watched John gravitate towards her, I’d seen the way she looked at him. John and I were speaking with Tom Horton once, and Marlena walked into the room. John’s back was facing her, but I watched him stiffen…I watched him take a deep breath, and I watched him turn around and stare at her with a look almost equal to reverence, while he whispered, Doc. He’d forgotten that Tom and I existed for a moment. He ended things with me less than two days later.”

Roman watched Rebecca in silence for a moment, and then he asked her, “Why do you hate her so much…it’s more than John…”

Did she want to answer that question? Did she want Roman to know anything personal? These were things she’d never said aloud, especially not to John, but something in Roman’s eyes had her feeling as if he wouldn’t repeat it. “My parents were immigrants. They came to America and spent the rest of their lives trying to forget the trauma they suffered in a war they wanted no part of. Me? I was their wonder child. The evidence that life could continue, even after the horrific ravages of war.” Rebecca was quiet for a moment, before she said, “You can’t even imagine my life. Every bite of food had to be eaten on my plate, or I was wasteful…ungrateful. No family around us, because they’d all died in the war. Religion? Religion was complicated. My parents loved G-d and hated him at the same time.”

Roman’s mind was trying to understand what she was saying, as he watched her struggle to get the words out. He stepped closer, reaching out to take her hand, but he said nothing.

She pulled her hand away from his, refusing to allow him to perceive her as weak. “Marlena has had life handed to her on a silver platter. What type of struggles has she ever had?” Rebecca said with a sneer. “The perfect blonde haired, all-American girl. She’s a doctor, a pillar of the local community, a member of the Brady family–”

“–You don’t know anything about her,” Roman said softly. “You’ve made assumptions, but you know nothing.”

“Then why don’t you enlighten me,” she replied sarcastically.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Maison Blanche

Stefano stared at Mason with hard eyes, “What do you mean there is no footage?” The camera footage had been giving him incredible insight into the dynamics of John’s relationship with Marlena. The man was still obviously in love with her, and Stefano could use that to his favor. Crushing Roman’s spirit one video or audio recording at a time. That wouldn’t be possible if John and Marlena had destroyed all of his cameras.

“There is footage sir; however most of the cameras were destroyed, and the footage we do have is from a distance…outside the boundary of the tracking devices. There are no cameras inside the cabin at all,” Mason said matter of factly.

Stefano stood up with a reluctant smirk of admiration. “John always was smart. He was one of my best mercenaries,” Stefano said. “Almost as good as you.” He looked at Mason, asking, “How long have the cameras been out?”

“Two days, but Anthony just told me this morning,” Mason replied.

“Anthony is an imbecile! Why did he wait so long?” Stefano said. 

“He claims he believed the cameras were glitching.”

Pausing briefly, Stefano said, “It’s time to move them anyway. Bo Brady and Shane Donovan are searching the whole valley. They started on the southern end two days ago. I expect they will locate John and Marlena within a few days. Go in tonight. It’s a new moon. That will provide the required darkness. No helicopters. You must go on foot. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” Mason replied. “I’d like to take Dante…I don’t feel comfortable with Anthony.”

Stefano eyed him sharply, “And why is that?”

“He withheld information about the cameras, and the day we dropped John and Marlena in Gauley Valley, he only gave them one bag of supplies. He kept the food rations–”

“Why are you only telling me this now?” Stefano roared. “I won’t have my orders disregarded.”

“John possesses enough hunting and foraging skills, that they are well fed, even if the diet isn’t varied much.”

“Send Anthony to me,” Stefano told him. “You take Dante and get them out tonight.”

“Where are we moving them to?” Mason asked.

“Ahhhh, the next phase of my plan, Mason.” Stefano smiled, “My island in Tahiti. We are going to Nukutepipi. I want them housed in the smaller house on the property, not in the main estate. I’ve already made arrangements. If I can’t get my mercenary back, John Black will play another role. I want the perimeter guarded by either you, or Dante. Anthony will be given another assignment. I don’t need him intentionally foiling my plans because he’s a sadistic bastard holding a grudge against a man who doesn’t even remember him.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Gauley River Valley, West Virginia

John had been talking for hours. Marlena could see the fatigue in him. It lined his features, and it was evident in the way he held his body. They hadn’t eaten since breakfast, but neither one of them were hungry. 

The fire had died, but they had no energy to set another, so they climbed into bed together, John holding Marlena tightly. He couldn’t imagine letting her go. In the middle of a thought, John said softly, “If he gets his memory back…he’s going to be so hurt. He’s going to feel so guilty, Doc.”

“Mason?”

“Yes…he’s…Stefano made it his job to guard Seraphina. He guarded his own sister, and he–he doesn’t even know it. He thought she was dead. I believed she was dead. Stefano…the sick, twisted, bastard had Mason watching her until the day my mother died. Mason was the one responsible for her. And I don’t know he can survive knowing that. It may be better that he never remembers.”

“Oh, John, my darling,” Marlena pulled his head against her chest. “My love, I’m so very sorry.” What Stefano had done to them was unconscionable. All in the name of revenge. John had spent hours telling her about his mother, what he knew of her anyway. Lovely stories told to him by his Papi. A man who played the role of his father, but John had told her that Luca was his uncle. It was so complicated. John didn’t know who his father was, he only knew that his Papi had told him, it wasn’t Stefano Dimera. 

John looked up at her, nuzzling his face against her warm, soft chest. His hand stroked its way under her t-shirt, and Marlena gasped softly when his palm rested under her breast. Cupping her softly, his thumb brushed over her turgid nipple, causing her to groan. There was a question in his eyes, as he whispered, “Doc?”

He wanted her. He needed her in a way he’d never needed her before. John stared into her eyes, and he rasped out, “Baby…please?”

Cupping his bearded jaw, Marlena whispered, “Yes, my darling. Yes.” And then their lips met softly.

John moaned, squeezing her breast in his large hand, and he told her, “You are everything, Marlena. Everything…”

Chapter 34

Gauley River Valley, West Virginia

They were both gasping for air, when John pulled back from their kiss. He wanted to melt into her, and get lost inside her soul, but then he felt hot tears streaming down his neck, and he lifted himself. Staring down into her tear filled eyes, John whispered, “Marlena?”

“I’m sorry,” she told him. She was overwhelmed. Her love for him was confusing the situation. He was married. She had to remember that. He’d committed to another woman. “I’m sorry…I–ever since you told me about your marriage to Rebecca…I can’t get it out of my mind. I can’t stop thinking about how quickly you went to her. How quickly you married her.” She tried to turn her face away, feeling shame burn through her as she said, “I’m overcome…I’m riddled with jealousy. My mind conjures images of you touching her, and making love to her the way you’ve touched me…or loved me…”

The cabin was pitch black, and John had realized earlier in the evening that a month had gone by since he’d found her on Baliceaux. It felt like a longer amount of time. The way they had come together over the last four weeks left him feeling as if they had never been apart. His fingers brushed hair back from her forehead. He needed to reassure her, and even though he wasn’t sure where it would go once they were rescued, and he felt they would be rescued, he needed her to know she was loved, she was precious to him.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this…I shouldn’t say this aloud, but Doc…there are times when I’ve made love to Rebecca, and it was you. When I said my wedding vows, I was picturing you. And it was wrong. It was so wrong, and it would hurt Rebecca to know that I dream of you nearly every night that I lie beside her. I–I…” He couldn’t finish. He couldn’t tell the woman in his arms that he imagined pushing into her moist depths while thrusting into his wife against the shower wall. He couldn’t say that.

Marlena saw something change in his expression. He was holding something back. “What? What were you going to say?”

“It doesn’t matter, baby,” he replied, looking away.

“You imagine making love to me?” she whispered, leaning towards his ear. She needed to know. She needed to feel like she was always his first choice, even when she wasn’t available. Years of miscommunication had left her feeling confused, and she was well aware as a psychiatrist that she should focus on her own marriage, and not let the inner workings of John’s marriage affect her, but still she found herself asking, “When you slide into  Rebecca, do you imagine me?”

Her hot breath against his ear, and her dirty words, had John rolling her more firmly onto her back. He stared down at her, his heart racing, and hissed, “Yes…nearly every time.”

“Tell me what you were thinking about,” she whispered. “I want to know…”

He could feel the blood rushing to his cock as he remembered making love to Rebecca in the shower, days before he left Palermo. It was so easy to close his eyes, and imagine it was Marlena’s skin he was caressing and her velvety heat he was thrusting in and out of. He’d almost called out her name. John swallowed thickly, “Doc, I shouldn’t…I thought if I left Salem I could escape you. I thought if I ran hard and fast, across an ocean and onto another continent, I could forget you, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I bought a damn house with a ficus tree, and the only reason I bought it was because that fucking tree reminded me of kissing you on a beach in Miami!” He rubbed his face against her and he said, “Sex with Rebecca is fine…it was fine, but it wasn’t you. Sex with you…baby with you it’s as if we become one, and I can’t determine where I end, and where you begin.”

Marlena felt a flutter in her chest, “You think about Miami?”

“I decided in Miami that it was going to be you. It had to be you. Finding Roman changed everything. Isabella being pregnant changed everything–”

“–No…no, it didn’t. Roman…if I had come to you on the beach that night, John. If I had come to you then–”

“–it would have been you. Fuck, baby, it has always been you.” John rested his forehead against hers, and he took a deep breath, trying to calm his body. Being that close to her, he wasn’t sure anything would calm him. He said softly, “Initially, I was programmed. I remember being very angry. Stefano had pulled me away from Gina…” John was quiet for a moment, confused about why Gina looked so similar to Hope, but he said nothing. “I was…I thought I was in love with her. I knew Stefano wanted me on another assignment, in Salem.” He smiled, touching Marlena’s face gently, “I was angry. He was sending me off to cause chaos in some family in the midwest. I knew, I was expected to pretend to be Roman Brady. I was expected to play husband to a head shrink, and a passel of brats…” John laughed, “At least that’s what I remember saying. I tried to run off. Gina and I had a plan, but then Stefano nabbed me before I could. The last thing I remember was hearing Stefano and Rolf discuss memory transfer. My next memories are of Petrov and Nurse Honeycutt…later it was Victor. But you, G-d,  I fell in love with you the moment you walked into that hospital room.”

Marlena was confused, “Hospital room?”

“My memories from when I came to Salem…do you remember when I told you that I chose my name off of a plaque on the wall at the soup kitchen? That was my earliest memory? It wasn’t. I remember being cold, and wandering the streets.” He got quiet for a moment, and he said, “A homeless woman brought me to the hospital, and Neil was there. He had you come to speak with me…”

Marlena stared up at him in silent shock, touching his bearded jaw, “That was you? I worried about that man for days. You just disappeared.”

“Victor was looking for me, and I was trying to avoid Steve–”

“Steve?” she asked in confusion. What did Steve have to do with any of that? She knew he was involved in Stockholm, but she didn’t know he was working with Victor.

“I’m too tired to even discuss that. I simply need you to know that you have been a part of me, since my first memory of you.” Stroking her face gently, his fingertips brushed over her lips. The room was so dark he could barely make out the lines of her face, so he kept his fingers on her mouth, and leaned forward, kissing her softly, murmuring, “There was no way I could forget you.” He kissed her again, whispering, “And when I fell in love with you…I fucked up all of Stefano’s plans.”

Marlena smiled against his mouth, feeling that deep love she had felt only for John well up inside her. “You did?”

“I fucking did, baby.” He kissed her again, licking softly across the seam of her mouth. “Open up for me.”

“Oh!” she gasped, feeling the soft, velvety swipe of his tongue against hers. Her hips bucked against his thigh in need. He loved her. Even when he tried to forget her, he still loved her. Marlena threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling his mouth closer, and she whispered, “I love you.”

John’s palm slowly caressed her naked thigh. Marlena had taken to sleeping in his t-shirt, and it was a nightly frustration to keep himself from touching her body. No bra, his t-shirt and a pair of white cotton panties…it was the sexiest get up she’d ever worn. It made him dream of her, as he held her in his arms. It caused him to wake in the middle of the night frustrated, only to find himself rutting against her in his sleep. She’d never mentioned it, but he knew there was no way he hadn’t woken her. 

Her body was a temple. How many times had he touched her and worshiped her during the night? How many times had he continued to dream he still was? When his palm reached the elastic at her waist, he nearly exploded like a teenage boy when she whispered, “Take them off.”

“Doc,” he said softly. “We can’t…the cameras–”

“–there aren’t any cameras, besides, it’s so dark in here…please…”

John’s palm slid down over her softly rounded abdomen and underneath the edge of her panties, cupping her swollen sex with a moan. His finger slipped between her folds, and all he felt was liquid heat as her flesh pulled him in. Tugging his hand back quickly, he placed his finger between his lips, and sucked her arousal off of it. His first taste of her since that night on Victor’s plane, and any reservations he may have had were gone in an instant. John began to pull at the cotton fabric with both hands, tugging it over her hips. 

She felt her panties catch on her ankle, and she cried out, when John pushed her thighs wide, scrambling down the bed. She could hear his sharp intake of breath as he breathed her in, and her hips bucked again, searching for his mouth. She wanted his lips on her sex so badly she thought she might scream. She could feel the heat of his breath, as she cried out, “John…I need…please!”

Leaning forward, he pinned her legs down, holding her against the bed, and he licked a long line across her sex, lapping over her tight hole, all the way to flick over her clit roughly. John smiled to himself. She tasted like fucking nectar, and wanting more he settled his mouth over her swollen folds. He sucked, digging his tongue deep, causing her to mewl, and keen for more. Even though they hadn’t been together in years, it was second nature. He knew where she was, and he could feel every twinge, and tightening of her muscles. He looked up, finding the barest reflection of her eyes, and he whispered, “I’m about to make you scream, baby.”

“John…John…oh, G-d…” she whimpered, but then his mouth latched onto her clit, sucking so hard it was almost painful. Minutes, mere minutes, and he had her screaming her release. Marlena’s body arched up, and she wailed into the silent night. She could feel her core tightening and rolling, and she could feel moisture leaking from her as John lapped it all up.

It was fucking ambrosia, and he wanted more. Slowly he licked over his lips, and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. Sliding his hands up her long legs, with his cock throbbing painfully in his boxers, he began to crawl up the bed towards her, when a loud knock sounded on the cabin door.

“John! It’s Mason. We have to go. I want you outside in ten minutes,” Mason said loudly. Beside him Dante smirked. They both knew what they had just interrupted. They could hear Marlena from nearly 100 feet away. Mason looked at Dante sharply, “You will say nothing. Understood?”

“I wasn’t planning on saying anything…I just think maybe we arrived at the wrong time,” the other man said with a short laugh.

Mason stared at the cabin, feeling heat rise to his cheeks, grateful that it was almost complete darkness outside. Clearing his throat he said again loudly, “Ten minutes, John.”

“Fuck,” John muttered, rubbing his hands roughly over his face. Tossing his legs over the side of the bed, he grunted. He was almost in pain from wanting release, but there was nothing to be done for it. He pushed against his cock, hoping the counterpressure would help, and then he pulled Marlena’s limp body up from the bed, whispering, “Time to go, baby.”

She felt like mush. There was no other way to describe it, and she knew that John would be hard and ready. Her core tightened again, her mind creating images of what he might have done to her body if only they hadn’t been interrupted. Reaching her hand out, she fisted his cock through the fabric of his boxers, pumping her hand along his length. His soft moan told her it was a mix of agony and bliss. Her mind decided quickly what she was going to do. It would take moments. She climbed over him, slipping to her knees in front of him, and she pushed his legs wide.

She didn’t know where Stefano planned to take them next, and there was no guarantee they would have a moment like this. A moment without light, and without cameras prying into their most private moments. Wanting him to know what she was feeling, and wanting to give him the same gift he’d given her, she came closer, staring up at him. 

“Doc…don’t. I’ll be fine–” He nearly choked on his last word as she pulled his cock from his boxers.

“I want to,” she whispered. “We need this…you and I. We need this, John.” And they did. She needed him to know that he was her first choice. He had always been her first choice. 

John shivered when her warm breath engulfed his length, and then she took him into her mouth. His head tipped back, as he fell onto his open palms, barely able to support his own weight. Hot, liquid rapture consumed him. In the pitch black of the room, he saw stars, and he felt heaven. The slick heat of her mouth was going to burn him from the inside out.

Outside he heard Mason say loudly, “Seven minutes.”

Marlena cupped his balls, tugging them down tightly, and her teeth lightly scraped over the head of his cock, and John bit his own lip to keep from roaring as he exploded into her mouth. He fell backwards onto the bed, barely able to process the squeaking of the springs beneath him, as he bit the flesh of his own palm to keep himself from crying out. Her soft lips caressed him, and her tongue licked him clean, while he released Marlena’s hair. Hair he didn’t even realize he was pulling. Gasping great gulps of air, he heard Marlena whisper, “We have to go now.”

She stood up, tugging his hand. John struggled to stand before her, resting his forehead on hers, “You didn’t have to do that, Doc.”

“I wanted to do that,” she whispered. 

“Time’s up! Let’s go!” Mason yelled loudly from outside.

“Shit,” John mumbled, struggling to get his thoughts together when all he wanted to do was collapse back into the bed with Marlena. “I can’t think.”

“All we need to do is get dressed…just put some pants on and find your shirt,” Marlena replied, fumbling her way towards the table in the center of the room. She ran her palm slowly up John’s bare back, and she whispered softly, “We can…discuss what just happened later. Just know this…I don’t regret it.”

He turned her into his arms, kissing her softly, and groaned at the slightly metallic taste of himself on her lips, “Fuck…okay…okay.” Holding her close for a moment, he whispered, “I love you.”

Marlena replied, “I know…here’s your shirt.”

“I don’t know if I can face him…it’s so fresh. He’s my father, he raised me, and he doesn’t even know it.”

“We’ll get through this. I promise. Hold my hand, John.”

Taking her small hand in his, he linked their fingers together, and they walked across the cabin towards the door. John looked down at her, “Don’t let go of me. Please.”

“I won’t,” she told him, squeezing his fingers. “I promise, I won’t.”

Chapter 35

Plane Nearing Mexico City

They were entwined as if they were one. Mason watched John and Marlena sleep across the cabin on the sofa on Stefano’s private jet. They had been in the air for hours, and the two of them had slept for most of the flight. Marlena’s body was pushed against the back of the couch, while John seemed to shelter her, even in sleep. The hike out of the valley in pitch black was difficult enough, but when Marlena fell and sprained her ankle, John was livid. An argument had ensued between Dante and John, as John blamed Dante for refusing to give Marlena a flashlight. Mason had to step between them before it got physical, and both he and Dante had watched as John lifted Marlena gently into his arms, and carried her out of the valley.

Once on the plane, John had taken off her shoe, applied ice, and bandaged her up after ransacking the first aid kit. The look in his eyes dared either one of them to try to intervene, or even speak, and then Mason heard John say, in the most gentle tone, “Lie down baby, and get some sleep.”

Marlena had whispered, “You’ll stay with me?”

Something ached in Mason’s chest as he watched John carefully push her legs back, and lay down with her, almost hiding her from their view. His body pressed close to her, and his hand slipped under her shirt, resting against the bare skin of her abdomen, as his body rested against her back. The two of them were in their own world. John kissed Marlena’s temple, and he told her with a soft smile, “Like you have to ask.”

Mason was knocked out of his reverie when the captain said over the speaker, “We’re beginning our descent into Mexico City. We should be landing in approximately 15 minutes. Please make sure your seats are upright and your seatbelts are fastened.”

Reaching over, Mason jostled Dante, “Wake up. We’re getting ready to land. Throw away your trash, and put on your seatbelt.”

“What about those two?” Dante asked him with a nod towards the couch.

With a deep sigh, Mason stood up, “I’ll take care of it.”

In two wide steps, he stood over them. He felt awkward, as if he were intruding on something intimate. John’s face was slack in sleep, tucked into the curve of Marlena’s neck. His hand still rested underneath the hem of her shirt. He poked John’s shoulder roughly, and said, “John, wake up. The plane’s about to land.”

John was stuck between waking and memory. His body swayed with the gentle rock of the boat beneath him. He could feel the warmth of the afternoon sun on his skin. He could feel the cool water as he trailed his fingers through the sea. Tipping his face towards the sky he sighed. Feeling his father tap him on his shoulder, he smiled, and said, “Papi?”

Mason was momentarily confused, watching John’s deep blue eyes flutter open and stare at him. Did he know John? From before? He felt like he had to. Something stirred in his chest again. A deep ache of loss…he struggled to recognize the emotion and finally settled on grief. He was feeling grief, and it was connected to John. But why?

Behind him Dante laughed, bringing Mason quickly back to the present. “What did he call you?”

Turning to face Dante with a hard stare, Mason said quickly, “The man’s half-asleep. Shut up.” By the time Mason glanced over at John again, he had already turned his attention to Marlena, seemingly like nothing had happened.

“Doc? Hey, baby, we’re about to land,” John said softly, touching her cheek gently.

“Where are we landing?” she asked him, still disoriented.

John glanced at Mason, suddenly struck with the idea that he was staring at himself in twenty-five years. “Where are we?”

“Mexico City,” Mason replied. “It’s just a stop to refuel. We will not be deplaning.” He continued to stare at John for a moment, a second longer than normal, wondering why the name Giovanni came to mind. Turning away quickly, he  said gruffly, “Both of you buckle up for landing.”

Dante looked at Mason curiously, “I don’t know why you answer any of his questions.”

“Answering his question doesn’t require anything extra, Dante, and it doesn’t change the situation.”

“I guess,” Dante replied, but he’d seen how Mason operated for years, and for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint, he treated John differently.

“Where are we going?” Marlena asked softly as she buckled her seatbelt. She stared at Mason carefully waiting for a response.

“Does it matter?” Dante asked.

John leaned over, whispering so that only Marlena could hear him, “Wherever it is, don’t forget our promise.”

“I won’t let go of you, and you won’t let go of me,” she told him. She smiled at him, as if no one else existed in the space around them, and she whispered back, “I love you with my whole heart.” She couldn’t even begin to consider how problematic that was going to be once they returned home. If they returned home.

When John sat back, clicking the seatbelt into place, his eyes caught Mason’s, and he sensed a spark of recognition. Something flickered in his eyes, and then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Mason turned away, leaving John with a hollow feeling in his chest. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Caroline and Shawn Brady Residence

The chatter that filled the home of Caroline and Shawn Brady quickly became silent when Kim and Shane walked in. They had all been called together for one reason, and Shane held it in his hand. Laying the paper flat in the middle of the table, Shane looked Shawn Brady in the eyes, and said, “It’s a match. John is your son.”

“Saints preserve us!” Shawn cried, feeling the weight of his own body pulling him down into a chair. “It can’t be. It can’t be!”

“I had the ISA lab run the test twice, Shawn. Just to be certain. He’s your son,” Shane told Shawn with a smile.

Abe had a huge grin across his face. “Well, I’ll be damned. John’s a Brady.” When John left Salem, he not only broke the hearts of the people who considered him family, he’d broken Abe’s as well. John had never really understood that he was loved for what he was to the people in his life, not who he was, and for Abe, that meant he harbored a great sense of guilt. He had never explicitly told John what he meant to him. Maybe it was because men generally didn’t have soulful conversations where they discussed deep emotions, but Abe felt that he owed that to John, and he’d failed him.

Roman stood in silence, staring at the paper laying on the table. The room remained mostly silent as everyone processed the information, but the one thing that was consistent were the smiles. They were pleased. All of them were fucking pleased. Bo, Kim, Shane, Abe, and Carrie. His Ma and Pop. But all he felt was an acidic boiling stew in his gut, and an inability to speak.

Carrie watched her father carefully. He was not happy, that much she could tell. There was a small child inside her that was thrilled. Her father hadn’t been around to raise her, but there was a sense of rightness that John was family. He was her uncle, and that meant so much to her. It would mean so much to him. It did, however, complicate the situation with Marlena even further. Carrie’s love of romance novels was getting the best of her as she considered a love triangle between brothers. 

Kim had known that Roman might not take the news well. Once he’d learned about the affair before John left, and the baby that Marlena had lost, Roman’s dislike of John had gone from a bored tolerance to outright hatred. He stared at the paper that held the results of the DNA test with malice, and she knew he was either preparing to explode or flee. Neither one was an appropriate response, and there was nothing she could do about it. 

Glancing at her father, she said softly, “How are you feeling, Pop?”

Shawn looked up at her with tear filled blue eyes, and he said, “He’s me boy. Ever since he come to Salem, and he fought off those men trying to rob the fish market…I felt sometin’. I felt sometin’–”

“–You thought he was me!” Roman yelled, finally exploding with all of the rage that had built up. “What connection? That’s absolutely ridiculous. Marlena brought him here, told the lot of you that he was me, and you all accepted him with open arms! Because you thought he was me!”

The room was eerily quiet while they all waited to see how Shawn would respond. He stared at Roman with hard eyes, and he said, “I felt it. I tell ye, I always felt it, and I was right. He’s me boy. Ye don’t know how many times I looked at his face when we thought he was you, and I wondered…I wondered if Stefano didn’t made him look like Seraphina just to torture me!”

Caroline gasped softly, “Oh, Shawn! You never said.”

“Nothing to be done for it, Caroline. But John, he looks the spittin’ image of his mother, he does,” Shawn told them. He looked between Bo and Roman and he said, “He’s yer brother. Both of ye.”

Bo felt a sense of pride at Shawn’s inclusion, even though technically he and John shared no blood. Softly he replied to Shawn, “You’re right, Pop. He’s my brother.”

Roman yelled, “He’s not your fucking brother! You’re barely my brother because Ma couldn’t keep her–”

Kim’s palm landed squarely across Roman’s face in a slap that sounded like the crack of thunder in the silent room. “I don’t care how angry you are, Roman Brady, you will not disrespect our mother like that! Do you hear me? You won’t!”

Abe  decided that maybe Roman needed to talk, so he said, “Roman, why don’t we–”

“–No,” Roman said firmly. “No. You all can stay here and celebrate the man who tore my life to shreds. I’m leaving.” They all watched helplessly as Roman strode towards the door, swinging it open with a bang, and left the house. 

Outside Roman rounded the corner near the alley, intent on getting away as fast as possible. He struggled to pull in burning lungfuls of air, and no matter how many he took, he still felt as if he were drowning. He had no control over anything. Leaning over in the shadows of the alley, his hands landed on his knees as he attempted to come to terms with what he’d just learned, but he couldn’t. John was his brother. He was lost, and drifting. His life wasn’t what he dreamed it would be the day he married Marlena. Stefano had stolen that dream from him. John had stolen that dream from him. He wanted to rage, and scream, and burn the world around him. 

And then he felt a warm hand slide gently across his back, and a soft, even voice said, “Roman?”

“Go away, Becky.”

“It’s Rebecca,” she said flatly, annoyed at his continuing to call her that. “My name is Rebecca.”

Roman stood up, staring into brown eyes dotted with amber, and he said, “Go away. Go in the house. I don’t fucking care. You missed the good news anyway.”

“Shawn is John’s father?” Rebecca asked softly.

Roman sneered, “Certified by the ISA, and everyone in that room is overjoyed. Why don’t you join them?”

She watched him warily, not really understanding what she was feeling. It was obvious he was upset, and he was pushing her away because being upset made him feel vulnerable. Roman didn’t handle vulnerability well. She should walk away, and leave him there. He wasn’t her concern, and yet, she said softly, “You’re scared.”

Why was she still standing there? Why wouldn’t she go away? And…why did he like that she cared? In a frustration laden voice he told her, “What the fuck do you mean, I’m scared?”

“John is family now. You’ll never get rid of him, no matter how hard you try. He’s fucked your wife…he could be doing it again,” she said matter of factly. Even as the words left her mouth without emotion, she felt the truth of them lance her heart. Years of being a high profile lawyer had taught her the importance of a poker face, but that never took away the emotions.

Grabbing her shoulders, Roman spun her body and pushed her against the wall. They both realized it was almost exactly as it had been a few days prior, when they were both drunk. They weren’t drunk this time, but still Roman leaned in, staring at her mouth, and he said with anger, “Are you trying to piss me off, counselor?”

“I see no reason to lie to ourselves, detective,” she replied, staring up at him. “The longer it takes us to find them…the more time they spend together–”

“–shut up!” Roman told her. “Shut up, or I’ll shut you up.” The woman was infuriating. She pushed every button he had. She was condescending. She was strong-willed. She was sexy. He stared at her mouth again. “Fuck!” he yelled, releasing her, and stepping back. “Fuck!”

Rebecca watched him carefully, fully aware that he’d almost kissed again. He looked at her with the lonliest, saddest eyes she’d ever seen, and he said, “Get in the fucking house, Becky. I’m going for a walk.”

Roman walked away from her, and Rebecca slowly entered the house.

Chapter 36

June 28, 1953

County Clare, Ireland

The next contraction pulled her rounded belly up tight against her, and Seraphina groaned, trying to breathe calmly and slowly. The air being pulled into her lungs burned from the effort, and her chest seemed to constrict against it. As the contractions in her abdomen became more intense she was finding breathing harder to do. She hadn’t seen a soul since the housekeeper had left her food early that morning. The food sat on the table untouched. 

The room was stifling, and with the window nailed shut there was nothing she could do about it. The summer sun shining on the brick outside warmed the room to the point of stifling. Seraphina knew Stefano kept her in these conditions as punishment for what she’d done. As the contraction slowly released its hold on her, and she wiped the sweat from her brow, she whispered to herself, “Our baby is coming my love…Shawn, our baby is coming.” 

She straightened up from where she had been hanging off of the bedpost, rolling her shoulders, and she continued pacing. Her gauzy white nightgown clung to her skin, and the tackiness from the humidity in the room was unbearable. Seraphina walked towards the bathroom intent on rewetting the rag she had been using to cool her face.

Squeezing the excess water from the cloth, she sighed deeply, staring at herself in the mirror. Dark rings lined her eyes, and her cheeks were gaunt. The hair that had been shorn weeks earlier was slowly growing back in ragged edges. As much as she had been trying to eat and take care of herself for the baby, she had been failing miserably. The result was that her child continued to grow and thrive, while sucking the life out of her. 

Having been left alone for weeks, she’d started speaking to Shawn almost immediately. Still staring at herself in the mirror, she wondered if she would die there, locked in that room, trying to give birth to Shawn’s child? He would come for her, wouldn’t he? He’d sworn he would come for her. She would dream of him, and hear the soft cadence of his voice. She remembered him stroking her cheeks, telling her he would never give up until he found her. He’d promised. 

“We’ll call him Giovanni, for your father.” Exiting the bathroom, she whispered, “I remember what you said, about Irish tradition, and bad luck…about the name John. I remember. You said your grandfather was John and your father was John, and your mother refused to name you the same because it was bad luck for you…but our son, our son will be John…Giovanni…”

She nearly collapsed on the floor as another contraction rocked her small frame. She heard the scream wrench free of her body, but it felt surreal. Almost as if it were separate from her. Seraphina wiped the sweat from her neck with a groan, and gripped the edge of the wardrobe with white fingers, trying to hold herself upright. “When you come…” she said, breathing deeply, while the contraction began to ease back slightly. “When you come for us, we will…we will be…oh! This one is long…”

Stumbling towards the bed, she collapsed onto the edge crying out in helplessness, “I cannot do this alone, Shawn! I need you! You promised me!”

The door to her room opened, and she barely turned to see the maid shuffle in with a small woman behind her. The woman looked scared, and Seraphina knew almost immediately that Stefano had brought the poor woman there against her will. No one within 50 miles wanted to deal with the man who lived in that foreboding estate. The rumors flew. She had learned that soon after she was taken. The people of County Clare feared the man who lived there. They feared Stefano. Her husband. She feared him too. 

Her head fell weakly to the mattress. Seraphina would have tried to share a smile of kindness, or a word of welcome, but another contraction gripped her, followed by the warmth of water trailing down her legs. Her water had broken. As a child, she had witnessed her mother giving birth enough times to know what was happening to her. As a teen she had watched her mother die from it. Fear tore at her soul, but she pushed it down, refusing to allow it to overtake her. 

Wetness pooled around her thighs, and she glanced up in shock, her eyes locking with the stranger across the room, and she sobbed, “The baby is coming.”

“A leanbh [my child],” the woman told her, scrambling forward to assist Seraphina more fully onto the bed. “Let’s get ye onto the bed proper like.” The woman faced the maid, and said briskly, “The babe’s comin’ soon. I’ll be needin’ some hot water, some scissors, and some string. Are there clothes for the babe?”

Serpaphina was in a panic borne of loneliness, fear, and helplessness, as she cried, “I don’t have anything! He won’t give me anything, and I can’t do this alone! I need Shawn!”

The maid left the room, after one last furtive look at Seraphina, locking it behind her, and the woman looked into Seraphina’s eyes, “Me name’s Clodagh. Let’s get ye on the bed, and get ye checked. We’ll see how ye be farin’.” She reached for Seraphina’s nightgown, pulling at the hem, “And, let’s be gettin’ this off of ye. It’s wet.”

Seraphina gripped it tightly, staring at Clodagh with wide eyes, unwilling to be naked in front of her.

“Let’s dispense with the modesty, lassie, it won’t be matterin’ in a few minutes anyway. Take it off.”

The muscles across her abdomen tightened, and Seraphina screamed out, “Oh Dio, non posso sopportarlo! [Oh, G-d I can’t take it!]” Her world was falling apart. It had been falling apart for weeks. Clodagh pulled the nightgown over her head, and she stared helplessly at her while remembering Shawn.

She laughed, “I’m too old for bedtime stories!” But in her heart, there was nothing she wanted more than for Shawn Brady to tell her a story. She wanted him to kiss her again, like he had done the night before.

“This one’s an old one, from before the Christians came,” he told her with a smile. He pulled a chair towards Seraphina’s bed, and her face scrunched with the screech of the legs across the wooden floor. “I’m about to tell ye the story of Deirdre and Naoise. Their’s was a love story like none other, but it ended in tragedy.”

“Tragedy?” She stared up at him, while rolling around to get comfortable. She plumped the pillow under her head, and told him, “I want a love story that ends with them together. In love forever.”

“Mo chroí [My heart],” Shawn said with a smile. “It don’t always end well. Close yer eyes, and listen. This is the story of Deirdre and Naoise. They had a love doomed to fail from the start, but still it was the deepest of love all the same. Ye see, when Deirdre was born there was a prophecy that she would be the greatest of beauties. None would surpass her. Many fought for her, but her heart belonged to Naoise. Out of jealousy and spite he was killed, and she was promised to another.”

Seraphina felt a sense of dread growing inside of herself. “But, she didn’t want another.”

“That she didn’t,” he said softly, his eyes saying so much more.

Shawn was telling her something without saying it outright. He was telling her they couldn’t be. They were doomed, and it broke her heart. Staring up at him with tear filled eyes, she asked him softly, “Why are you telling me this story?”

“Deirdre threw herself out of a chariot to be with the soul of the man she loved,” Shawn told her. “She died that day. It was tragic.”

“Was it?” she asked him quietly. Her fingers traced over Shawn’s square jaw. “I think love, no matter how tragic, is worth the living.”

“But is it worth the dying, mo chroí?” 

“For you? I would die a thousand deaths for time with you,” Seraphina told him. “All you have to do is kiss me.”

Seraphina cried out for a life she would never have, a love she would never have, and the man she had lost. She pushed out a baby boy born of love, as her flesh tore, and still she told herself that Shawn would come, because he’d told her he would. He’d promised.

Clodagh bathed the baby, wrapping him in Seraphina’s nightgown, since she was given nothing else. His features were his mothers, black hair and deep blue eyes, and as he’d come into the world, not a sound came from him. He had stared at her with wide eyes, and took his first breath without a single wail. A quiet baby meant still waters run deep. He would be a thinker…a feeler. He would be a man who’s emotions ruled him, loyal to a fault. Clodagh’s eyes locked with his, and she whispered, “Ye will love, and ye will love hard.”

Passing him into the arms of his exhausted mother, she asked Seraphina, “What be the babes name?”

“Giovanni Luca,” she whispered, staring down at her son. “After his grandfather, and my brother.”

Clodagh had suspected since she arrived that Seraphina’s baby was the child of Himself. He believed that Seraphina and the baby were dead. The whole of County Clare believed they were dead. Himself had left Ireland in mourning for them. The man was emotionally destroyed, believing his love and his unborn child were murdered. He had headed for America, yet there Seraphina sat cradling their babe in her arms. There was nothing to be done for it. Seraphina had cried out for him as she’d pushed their child into the world, and it broke Clodagh’s heart knowing that they would never be together, the master of the house would be sure of that.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Luca opened the door to Seraphina’s room slowly. He had been in Ireland for weeks, trying to get information on his sister. It had been sheer luck to come across a maid who worked there, at a local pub one night. He’d befriended her, gained her trust, romanced her, and tonight he’d received a message that the child was born. His sister’s small body was shadowed in darkness in the middle of the large bed, a small bundle tucked in her arms. He could hear her soft breathing, and sighed in relief. Stepping closer to the bed, he realized the baby in her arms was awake. The child looked up at him before he even had a chance to wake her.

“Ciao, piccolo [Hello little one],” he said softly, stroking his finger across the child’s cheek. 

Seraphina’s eyes fluttered open. Her chest tightened, and she was unable to speak realizing her brother stood beside her. She was relieved to see him, and destroyed at the same time. She would get him to take the baby, no matter what came to pass, her son would be saved from whatever Stefano had planned for her. 

His hand stroked her arm gently, “Sono venuto per portarti a casa, piccolo passerotto

 [I’ve come to take you home, little swallow].”

She smiled up at him softly, “Sono troppo debole [I am too weak].” 

Luca felt panic in his chest, “Vi porterò entrambi [I’ll carry you both]—”

“—non riusciremo a scappare [we won’t get away].” She had to find a way to get him to take the baby away from there. Stefano couldn’t find him, or he’d make them both suffer.

“Non ti lascerò [I’m not leaving you].”

Seraphina struggled to sit up, shoving her child towards her brother, “Desideri! Prendi il bambino… prendi il mio bambino… allevalo, Luca. Lo amo. [You will! Take the baby…take my baby…raise him up, Luca. Love him].”

He stared at her helplessly, unable to move, while she continued to desperately try to press her son into his arms. Eventually, he took the bundle from her, staring down into the baby’s eyes. 

In desperation, Seraphina cried, “Mi hai promesso! Promettere! Lui è tuo! Finché il mio amore non verrà per me… lui sarà tuo! [You promise me! Promise! He is yours! Until my love comes for me…he is yours!]”

When the door closed behind Luca with a soft snick, Seraphina heard, for the first time, the soft cry of her son as it echoed down the hallway. With a sob, she whispered, “Shawn, I should have died. They should have allowed me to throw myself from the car like Deirdre… death would have been welcome compared to the pain in my heart.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Stefano stared at the maid with hard eyes, “The child is missing, and yet Seraphina remains?”

“Yes, sir…I’m not—I can’t be sure how that happened,” she told him, averting her eyes. She was lying of course. She knew exactly what had happened. She’d been charmed by a tall, dark Italian with eyes the color of the Mediterranean. That’s what had happened.

But Stefano already knew that Luca had stolen away in the night, with a bundle in his arms. That report had come to him as his enforcer woke him from sleep. He also knew that Luca had been carrying on a romance with the woman in front of him for weeks. “You will pack your things, and you will leave the premises immediately.”

In a panic she cried, “I be needin’ this job—”

“—You should have considered that when you decided to be disloyal,” Stefano told her in a voice of steel. He had allowed her little betrayal to happen because it suited his needs for a time, but traitors were never tolerated, and she was a traitor. 

He watched her leave, and sat back smugly. He would allow Luca to take Seraphina’s child, and raise it up, but when the time came, when the time was right, he would take them both back, and make them suffer. Glancing over at his enforcer he said, “Move her to Verona. I have no further use for her. Her brother will return, hoping to take her home. I don’t want her here when that happens.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Today,” Stefano told him with a hard look. “I want her moved today.”

“Yes, sir.”

Glancing down at the photos spread across the desk, Stefano grinned. Shawn Brady. How low Himself had sunk to be a fisherman in the United States. He no longer had the respect. He no longer had his family. He wouldn’t have his son, and Stefano would spend the rest of his life making him suffer. He would make his family suffer, because no one stole from him, and Shawn Brady had stolen from him.

Chapter 37

Nukutepipi, French Polynesia

Squeezing her hand gently, John looked down and smiled at Marlena as they stepped from the car in front of a large estate. He couldn’t get over how it seemed that he fell more and more in love with her every time he gazed into her gold tinged hazel eyes. The trade winds blew strands of her gold hair across her cheeks, and he watched as she carefully brushed it away with the back of her hand. Absolutely fucking gorgeous, and he was in love with her. He’d tried for years to push it away, and move on with his life, but Stefano had succeeded. John was more in love with Marlena at that moment, than he had ever been before.

And now they were on another private island. He had noticed as the plane was going in for the landing. A private airstrip, on a small island…again, making an escape impossible. John had no idea where they were, but as they ascended the wide marble staircase, ornate and elaborate, it was everything he would have expected from Stefano DiMera. Austere lion statues footed the stairs, and large columns supported the awning of a large wrap around porch, on the plantation style home. 

John was struck by a memory of another plantation style home owned by Stefano. Maison Blanche. As soon as he remembered what it was called, he recalled every memory associated with it as well. John’s smooth walk stuttered to a stop, as he looked around him. He wasn’t at Maison Blanche. He took a deep breath, studying the lines in the columns, attempting to calm himself. He felt Marlena’s gentle squeeze of his hand. Marlena had taught him what to do in times like this. He took a deep breath, counting to four as he inhaled, and slowly released it while counting to four. He could feel her eyes on him, and he glanced down, giving her a reassuring smile. 

Everything over the top and lush. Not just the home, with its bright white paint, and dark woods, but also in the greenery that surrounded them. It was tropical, reminding him of Baliceaux with the smell of plumeria in the air, but there was something else. It took him a moment to realize it was pikake and maybe…frangipani. The caws of the kingfisher dominated the air, and if Stefano DiMera hadn’t been staring at him from the top of the stairs, it might have been relaxing.

Marlena took a deep breath, and immediately thought about Tahiti. It smelled the same, and the memories it invoked were strong. She looked up to see Stefano watching them closely from where he stood at the entrance to the great estate, with a smug smile on his face, and she knew…they were in Tahiti, or somewhere near it. She recognized the understanding in Stefano’s eyes as well. He knew the exact moment she’d figured it out.

Marlena was intelligent, incredibly intelligent. While they weren’t in Tahiti exactly, they were in a very remote portion of French Polynesia. Stefano watched her come towards him, and he had to admit he was intrigued. She was a beautiful woman. He had always thought so. He remembered the fierceness with which she had fought him before, when he had kidnapped her children. The look of determination that had lined her eyes right before she shot him in the rafters of the opera house. Marlena Evans was a woman who, when determined, was stronger than she seemed. He could imagine the way her skin might feel under his, and if he didn’t need her for his plan to destroy Shawn Brady, he might find another use for her. 

John stared at Stefano, studying the way the old man’s eyes raked over Marlena’s body, and he pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her hips. Stefano’s eyes came up quickly, catching John’s possessive look.

“Ah, I forgot you were the jealous type, John,” Stefano said with a light laugh. “While I admit Marlena is a divine specimen of beauty, I have no use for her right now, except one.”

“I don’t suppose you’re about to tell us what that is?” John asked with sarcasm.

“And ruin the surprise? I think not,” Stefano told him. “You have arrived just in time for lunch, and we have some things to discuss before you’re shown to your lodgings.”

Marlena looked at John with questions in her eyes. She was scared, and she leaned even closer to him, afraid that they would be separated. He gently cupped her hip, reassuring her with the warmth of his large palm.

For some reason, Stefano felt the need to calm Marlena. The feeling made him uncomfortable. It made him think of his early days with Seraphina. He leaned forward, telling her, “You will not be separated from John, Marlena. I have been informed by Rolf that he is of absolutely no use to me as a mercenary any more, so you may keep him.” Glancing over at John, he said slowly, “As long as some rules are followed.”

Rolf? The doctor she was supposed to meet in Oklahoma City at the conference. Of course. She looked into Stefano’s deep brown eyes, and said nothing. All she needed to see was the smirk on his smug face.

“Rules?” John asked him. He didn’t trust Stefano. The more memories that surfaced, the  more concerned he became about his and Marlena’s predicament. So many memories of his past left him in cold sweats, and screaming out in the night, only to wake with the gentle caress of Marlena’s soft touch across his bare chest. He couldn’t lose her, or he might lose himself. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Stefano said. “Let’s have some lunch, and we’ll discuss the rules.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The Fancy Face, Salem River

Bo’s eyes were drooping as he scanned over the rough scrawl in the margins of the book he’d found under the chair in Mexico. The handwriting was familiar, and he was almost certain it was John’s, although he couldn’t be certain. He remembered flirting with the girl next to him in his high school English class, just to avoid reading this very book. Moby Dick. Who knew it would be a psychological dive into the madness of Stefano DiMera? 

The words and the type were beginning to run together, but what Bo got from it was tragic. The metamorphosis of a boy, to a man, to a mercenary tucked in the margins of a book. A description of madness, as John slipped into the unknown. Captain Ahab became Stefano, and John…more rightly, Giovanni, became lost at sea. He became the whale. His memories taken from him, leaving him a shell of who he was, who he could have been. He became John Black. Giovanni Floris disappeared, and he was replaced with a mercenary trained to do Stefano’s bidding. Bo supposed, at some point the book lay forgotten, until Marlena found it.

Bo smiled to himself, wondering what Marlena made of it. She was the psychiatrist after all. What it must have been like for her to dive into who John was, and read through his evolution? It read like a fantasy. Phrases and random bits of information that made no sense were written throughout. John had underlined the sentence, “It is not down on any map; true places never are.” In the margins he had scribbled, “52.7193° N, 9.0665° W.” Just a set of coordinates with no explanation at all, but they meant something to the man who’d written them. Bo turned the page, telling himself that he would look through one last page before turning out the light, but there was nothing to look through. The name Luca was repeated across the paper, almost like a chant. It was written in the margins, and over the text, in every available space…Luca. 

Bo dogeared the page, and placed it on the table beside his bed. Rubbing his palms over his face roughly, he turned out the light, and laid his head on the pillow. Rolling over he mumbled, “Who the fuck is Luca?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Nukutepipi, French Polynesia

Stefano sat back in his chair, lifting his glass of chardonnay towards John and Marlena. They were seated on the back lanai overlooking a large well groomed yard. John eyed him with suspicion. It wasn’t a coincidence that they were being served a 1986 vintage of Montrachet, the exact same wine he and Marlena ordered on their first night in Tahiti. How Stefano knew that was another secret John would never know. Selecting the 1986 vintage was just another way to fuck with their heads.

“You both must be tired,” Stefano told them casually.

“Knock off the hospitality bullshit old man, and get to the point,” John replied. 

“Ah, John. Such a lovely day, don’t you think? The soft breeze against your skin, a lunch of the finest freshly caught fish–”

“–you said something about rules?” John interjected in frustration. He didn’t have the patience for dealing with Stefano’s long-winded speeches expounding on his delusions of superiority and grandeur. He had listened to them for years as his top mercenary, and he was done with that part of his life. 

He set his wine glass down on the white tablecloth, and he said, “It was brought to my attention that during your time in West Virginia, you and Marlena made quite a day of destroying my recording equipment–”

“–oh, did that make you angry?” John interrupted smugly.

“It won’t happen again,” Stefano told him. “Don’t forget who’s in charge here. The video cameras and the recording devices will not be touched.”

“And if I do?” he challenged.
“How long do you think I will allow you to remain with your precious Marlena, John? If you continue to defy me? I will take her.” Stefano watched John’s eyes as he processed the information, and a flash of fear crossed through them. “You remember, don’t you, John? You remember what it means to be my enemy? You remember what it feels like to lose yourself and become loyal to only me? Would Marlena survive that? And if she did…what would I do with her?”

“You fucking bastard!” John roared standing up from the table so quickly that he bumped it, knocking over the wine glasses. Marlena cried out in confusion, but John couldn’t even look at her. Instant fear raced through his veins, causing his chest to tighten. The mere thought of Stefano taking Marlena’s mind away from her, hijacking it, and twisting her into someone else, scared him to death. He pulled in a ragged breath, leaning towards Stefano, and he said with venom, “You fucking touch her and I will kill you old man!”

“See?” Stefano said as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “I knew you were a reasonable man, John. You understand now, don’t you?” He stood up from the table, gesturing for Mason to step forward. 

John watched as the man who raised him stepped forward, and he felt a sadness deep in his soul for who he had become. His Papi, Luca Floris, was a proud man, and seeing him at Stefano’s beck and call made John ill. Knowing how Stefano had used Mason to enact his revenge on him hurt John even more. Stefano smirked, watching John’s eyes on Mason. 

John was remembering his past, of that he was certain, which meant, it was time to pull Mason away, and assign him to other details. To Mason he said, “Mason? Where is Dante?”

“I believe he was parking the car, Sir,” Mason replied in a bland voice.

“I want him and Anthony to work out the guard rotation on the cottage. I need you for something else,” Stefano told him.

“Sir?” Mason asked. He had never questioned or defied a single order given to him, but in this case it happened so quickly, he knew as soon as he spoke that he’d only confirmed whatever Stefano suspected. Stefano gave him a hard stare, and Mason said, “Yes, Sir.”

Returning his attention to John, Stefano told him, “Your cottage has been designed for your comfort. The perfect romantic hideaway. Mason will take you now.”

Marlena had been silent for the entirety of lunch, watching the byplay between Stefano and John. She had watched Mason in the shadows, and in those moments when he wasn’t guarded, she saw the emotion in his eyes. Luca was remembering, and he was keeping it to himself. That was what Stefano was worried about, and that was why Stefano was pulling Mason out of John and Marlena’s orbit. He was trying to regain control, but he hadn’t realized it was too late.

Reaching for John, Marlena entwined her fingers with his as they started walking after Mason. They would not be separated. No matter what she had to do to ensure that, Stefano would not take John away from her. Pressing her body against his side, she looked up at him, and whispered, “Don’t defy him. John, whatever we have to do, don’t defy him. I couldn’t bear to lose you. I wouldn’t…I don’t think I could–”

John stopped, tracing his index finger along her jaw softly, “I promise, baby. I promise…” She smiled, releasing a soft gasp mixed with a sigh of relief. As he continued to stare at her he whispered, “I couldn’t stand it either. I promise.”

They continued following Mason, until they exited the large house, and rounded the corner. From a distance they saw a large privacy fence surrounding what seemed to be a small cottage. John muttered to Marlena, “From one cage to another, Doc.”

It was true. From what she could see it would be completely surrounded, and once they were inside, the entrance would be locked. But why? Why would Stefano do that?

John stopped, and saw the question on Marlena’s face and he asked her, “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

“Figured it out?”

“Stefano is out to destroy the Brady’s. I don’t know why, but using me didn’t work. I fell in love with the mark, baby. I ruined everything, but Stefano still plans to use me…he plans to use us,” he told her.

They stepped through the gate, and both of them watched helplessly as Mason closed it behind them, locking it securely. Marlena glanced around. It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Their own secluded utopia. She glanced around listening to the kingfishers in the palm trees, and feeling the soft breeze on her skin. It was heaven, but if John was correct, it would also be hell.

John watched Marlena tip her head back, and close her eyes. Her blonde hair brushed against her cheek. He wanted to run his nose along the line of her neck. He wanted to kiss her. Instead, he stepped back. The sunlight shone off of the teal blue water in the pool, and a large hammock swayed in the trees. It was a romantic paradise, and it would be the ultimate test of his will. There would be cameras everywhere, watching them, recording them, and whatever he did, he could not succumb to his desires with Marlena. He couldn’t, because that was exactly what Stefano wanted. How better to destroy what was left of Roman than by recording his wife’s infidelity? By proving that even upon Roman’s return, she wanted his replacement more? 

Marlena opened her eyes, and saw worry etched in John’s features, “John?”

“It’s a trap, Doc,” he told her softly, gesturing around them. “It’s a fucking trap.”

“I don’t understand,” she said. But John was quiet, and then she said, “Oh.” She did understand. Every fragrant flower, the oversized hammock, the pool, the outdoor shower with the frosted glass…all of it another move in Stefano’s game.

And when they stepped inside the cottage, it was like stepping back in time. They were standing side by side in a perfect recreation of their Tahitian honeymoon suite. A thousand memories assaulted them simultaneously, as they stood there holding hands. John took a deep breath, and looked over to find Marlena staring at him. She was beautiful, but it was when she said, “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to stop it” that John really felt he had no chance at all. 

How could he keep himself from reaching for her, from loving her, when she’d just told him she doubted that she could do the same?

Chapter 38

Nukutepipi, French Polynesia

Marlena watched John carefully from where she sat on the end of the large king size bed. He was carefully searching the whole cottage for recording devices and cameras. He’d already located two cameras, but there was nothing they could do about them. Marlena refused to be separated from John, and if that meant living her life under Stefano’s watchful eye, she would do it. She ran her fingers softly over the coverlet on the bed, the design probably the height of tropical hotel fashion nine years ago when she and John had gone to Tahiti. Varying shades of green leaves printed across it, with scattered flashes of orange and fuschia. Birds of Paradise, Marlena thought fondly. They were beautiful, odd, flowers. 

She wanted a shower. After traveling for an inordinate amount of time, and living in the woods for several days, she wanted nothing more. There were two within their enclosure. One was outside the cottage, near the pool, and another inside. Neither one offered much privacy if someone else were nearby. The outdoor one was surrounded by a frosted glass, allowing anyone in viewing range to see the outline of whoever was within. Inside, Marlena had nearly melted when she saw the bathroom. Stefano had outdone himself setting the scene. The room was split with a glass wall, encasing the open shower. The style made it seem as if the shower was outdoors. Pebbles and small plants decorated the space, and a skylight allowed the sun to stream in. On the other side of the large room, a stone tub was tucked off to the side in the shadows on a beige marble floor. Marlena could imagine herself soaking in the tub, tracing her fingers through the warm, sudsy water, while watching John in the shower. A dull ache started in her core, and she felt herself blush. Two rooms, yes…but not really.

The clothing Stefano had provided only served to confirm John’s previous claim. It was a trap. A seductive, sexy, romantic trap. After going through the drawers Marlena had found bikinis, sarongs, fitted t-shirt’s and cotton terry-cloth shorts. Clothing that left nothing to the imagination, but accentuated every curve and nuance of her body. All clothing that would have been worn back in 1986. Stefano’s attention to detail was impeccable, even if mentally disturbed. Then there was the fact that there were no bras, and no panties.The nightgowns were nothing more than scraps of satin and lace meant to entice. It was the same for John, although decidedly less sexy. John had been left with a collection of swimming trunks, light sweatpants, cotton shorts, and tank tops. 

Marlena might have been more upset about it, if she hadn’t been exhausted. During the flight to Mexico City, she had rested, but it wasn’t real sleep. Not with Mason and Dante so close. The flight from Mexico City to wherever they now were had taken another almost eighteen hours. She glanced over at John with a slight smile. He wouldn’t rest until he knew the location of every camera and bug in that cottage, and he would commit them all to memory.

“What are you smiling about, Doc?” he asked her, stopping what he was doing for a moment.

“I was thinking about how determined you are,” she said softly. “But I don’t understand how knowing where the cameras are makes any difference. I won’t allow you to destroy them.”

“With the threat of losing you hanging over my head…I wouldn’t do that either, but…” he said, walking over to her. “…there are three cameras in this room. Two are aimed at the bed from different angles. That one near the door,” he said pointing towards the entrance to the cottage. “And that one, in the far corner. Another one is aimed at the entrance to the bathroom. There are no cameras in the bathroom, but I did find two recording devices in there. One near the bath and another in the shower enclosure.” He leaned closer and whispered, “But, come here, baby.”

Staring at him curiously, she took his hand and stood up, allowing him to position her in the corner on the far side of the room. John’s hands slid up her arms, and gripped her shoulders, pushing her back into the shadowy corner near the large chest of drawers.

“This is a blind spot. Three cameras, remember? Two aimed at the bed, one at the entrance to the bathroom, but here in this corner, nothing,” he told her softly. 

Her wide hazel eyes stared up at him, and a small gasp escaped her. He was so close, and he felt so warm. It happened so quickly that she felt an ache begin low in her abdomen. “He can’t see us here?” she asked him softly.

John leaned closer, feeling tightness in his chest. The multiple flights, the stressful lunch, Stefano’s fucking mind games…all of it was taking a toll on him. In that corner, where no cameras reached, he finally felt like he could let his guard down. He rested more fully against her, leaning his forehead on hers, and he sighed, finally feeling some of the tension release from his body.

Marlena felt the change in him. Where he’d been tight, and on guard, he melted against her. She placed her palm on his face, and whispered, barely audible, “Kiss me.”

That was all he needed to hear. His hands gripped hers, sliding them along the wall and pinning them next to her legs. With a soft groan, his lips took hers, as his pelvis pushed against her. Marlena could feel the growing line of his cock pressed into her soft belly, and she moaned into his mouth, reveling in the feeling of his fingers entwined with hers. She tried so hard to stay quiet, but she could hear her sharp gasps, and the mewling sounds she was making would be audible on a recording device. 

John barely pulled away from her, and he whispered, “It’s so fast with you. All I want to do is give you a soft kiss, and then seconds later, I’m devouring you.”

Marlena reached up, tracing her fingers softly over John’s bearded face, and she whispered, “I don’t think I can go back to Roman.”

John looked around, fearful that there might be a bug in the chest of drawers, “Doc, we’re being recorded.”

“But what do I do?” she asked him. Even lower she said, “What do I do with that, John? I’m so in love with you…it’s a constant ache inside me. I can’t fight it anymore. I can’t deny it anymore. I let you go last time, and it nearly killed me.”

He gripped her hips, pulling her closer, and he kissed her again, because he had no answer for her. How did they plan for a future when they had no idea where they would be in two weeks, or three? So, he continued to kiss her, licking a heated path across her lips, until she moaned softly against him. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Caroline and Shawn Brady Residence

Shane looked around the room. He hated having to explain how the ISA had missed John and Marlena in Gauley Valley by such a short margin of time. Slowly he said, “We nearly got to them. I swear we missed them by less than an hour. The coals in the fireplace were still warm.”

“Because this is all a fucking game to Stefano!” Roman roared. “And why? Because Pop knocked up his wife 42 years ago? It doesn’t make sense why he would kidnap Doc!”

Roman watched the looks going between Bo and Shane, and he found himself getting angrier. “What aren’t you saying?”

“I’d rather not speculate right now,” Shane said calmly.

“Oh, you’d rather not speculate? Seems to me that you and Bo, possibly even Abe, have been doing a lot of speculating,” Roman sneered. What more could there be? His wife had been kidnapped along with her lover. It couldn’t get much worse. “So, why don’t we lay it all on the table and be up front with each other?”

“Roman,” Bo started, “until we know for certain it doesn’t make sense–”

“–I think Roman’s right,” Rebecca interjected. “I thought we had all agreed, after Roman hid the recording that we were going to be completely transparent with each other.” Her gut told her she’d probably regret whatever they were about to say, but the last thing she wanted to be was in the dark. Rebecca did not function well when she didn’t have all the necessary information.

“We’ve worked out some things…nothing definitive, but we know that Stefano’s wife, Seraphina, fell in love with Shawn after she was kidnapped. Once Stefano’s men retrieved her, he faked her death, we know it was faked because the DNA test links Shawn and John. Based on what we know of Stefano, and the ISA psychological profile, he is obsessive. If he feels that someone had wronged him, he will become so entrenched in the idea of revenge that he goes to extreme lengths to carry it out,” Bo told the group. “John was the result of Seraphina’s affair with Pop…making John another target of Stefano’s revenge plot. Stefano used John as The Pawn. Stefano’s intention when he sent John to Salem was to wreak havoc within the Brady family…instead he fell in love with Marlena. He became a father, and a husband. Whatever programming Stefano had done to John did not initiate.”

Roman stared at Bo, and then looked at Shane, “If he was supposed to be me, what did the old man expect?”

“Based on intel from the ISA, Stefano has a doctor working for him, Wilhelm Rolf, who has been doing extensive experimentation on memory, memory function, and we think…memory replacement,” Shane replied. “We think that John might have been the first human he experimented on. We think, if the data we’ve received is correct…we think John might have a microchip wired into his nervous system. The goal of that would have been to remotely control his actions, and possibly memory replacement, or memory suppression.”

“Suppression? Meaning he wouldn’t remember who he was? That would certainly make it easier for Stefano to control him,” Kim said slowly. Kim could recall how angry, frustrated and scared John had been when he thought he had the potential to hurt the family. It had almost destroyed him. “And I remember, even with the Pagoda trigger…he fought it. He fought it so hard.”

“Why are we talking about this again? I told you, and I’ve said it since I came home, the chances that John has more than one hypnotic trigger is high. I don’t trust him, and I never have,” Roman told them all. “Chances are he won’t be able to control it the next time.”

Carrie, who had been quiet the whole time, suddenly whispered, “John remembered visiting me in the hospital dressed like Santa.”

“That was me!” Roman said in frustration. Why was it so hard for his family to see his side of things? John Black had come in, and taken over his whole fucking life.

“She knows it was ye!” Shawn burst out. Carrie had summarized her whole relationship with John in one sentence, and her father was so bone headed stubborn he wasn’t listening. “That’s not what she be sayin’, Roman. She’s sayin’ that John had yer memories, and it…it made it easy for her to trust him.” Shawn knew it to be true, because it had been so easy for him, and the rest of the family as well. 

Softly, Carrie said, “It was enough. He had enough hazy memories to convince me…and he—he loved me!” Turning to her father she asked him, “Why wouldn’t I love him back? John is so easy to love! He was my father for seven years. He helped with my homework, and he talked me through my first crush on Frankie. And…I can’t even believe I’m going to say this out loud, but, he—he took me bra shopping, and when I got my period…he…was there for me. I was so scared, and embarrassed. He was embarrassed too, but Dad, he explained everything to me…and then, we cried, because Marlena wasn’t there to do it,” Carrie started crying, and she stared at Roman when she said, “And you hate him for that? For loving me? John loved me, and the twins more than we’ve ever been loved, and you came home and pushed him away. You say he stole your life…but maybe you stole his too.”

The room was silent, and Kim finally said, “I think we’ve gotten off track, and maybe we need a break.”

Roman stared at his oldest daughter, and he replied, “Yeah, I think maybe we do.” His life had been stolen, by Stefano, and by John. Still, Carrie seemed to blame him for trying to take back what was rightfully his. She blamed him for taking back his family. Only, the devastated look on her face told him that maybe he had gone about it all wrong.

Chapter 39

Nukutepipi, French Polynesia

Marlena had fallen asleep nearly an hour earlier, and still John found himself lying there wide awake. Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw Marlena walking out of the bathroom with wet hair, wearing a ribbed, pink tank top, and a pair of pale yellow terry cloth shorts. His mouth had gone dry, as he’d stared at her. No bra. Stefano hadn’t left her any undergarments. The shorts had strings on the side with little bows she had to tie. John had watched the way the cotton had brushed against her thigh, the way the fabric had barely covered her ass. It was fucking torture.

She looked at him, with a light blush in her cheeks, and said, “I’m done in the bathroom. You can shower now.”

“I showered outside,” he told her, because he had. Staying in the cottage while imagining hot water streaming down her body had rushed him right out the door. He wished he hadn’t, because he had no excuse to leave then. John wished he had a way to escape her, because the thought of her crawling into bed beside him, dressed like that, had him imagining all the places he would like to stroke. Those shorts made her legs look amazing, and he could picture himself sliding his palm up underneath them. He wanted to cup her ass, and sink his fingers into the soft flesh of her inner thighs. It certainly didn’t help that as she’d showered, he allowed himself to fantasize, remembering the taste of her sex on his lips only the day before.

Marlena crossed to the other side of the room, switching off the lamp, and crawled into bed like a siren. It was a trick of the mind, feeling so isolated, and so alone. They weren’t alone and he had to remember that. John opened his arms, welcoming her under the coverlet beside him, and nearly groaned out loud, as she curled into him. 

In her sleep Marlena made a soft sound of contentment. Her palm slid across his chest, and she pumped her hips against his thigh. Thinking he was going to lose his mind, John managed to disengage, and slide out of the bed. John stood over her, watching the way she reached for him, and he turned quickly, walking outside.

Stefano was going to drive him mad leaving him locked in there with Marlena. How long would it be before they completely disregarded the cameras? How long would he be able to push away his most natural impulses and inclinations with her? It wasn’t simply the undeniable chemistry between them, it was also the simple way he wanted to pull her close and kiss her at any given moment. It was the way he might want to hold her hand, or stroke her face, but the idea that they were being watched and monitored, made him second guess everything. He couldn’t behave naturally with her, because Stefano would use it to hurt Roman, which would in turn, hurt Marlena.

He sat on the end of one of the lounge chairs near the edge of the pool, and settled his head in his open palms. This was going to be harder than he’d thought it would be. It wasn’t simply refraining from making love to Marlena. It was everything. He would have to keep her at an emotional distance, and that was impossible. If Stefano had his way, by the time they returned home, their respective marriages would be in shambles. 

“John?” Marlena’s soft voice carried on the night air, as she approached him. He didn’t move, until he felt the soft slide of her palm across the bare skin of his back. “I woke up, and you weren’t there.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked him, sitting down behind him. Her hand settled on his shoulder, and she rested her cheek on his back. “I can listen.”

“The problem is, so can Stefano,” John muttered.

“We can’t live like that,” she told him quietly. “He has us in here like animals in a cage. A gilded cage, but a cage nonetheless. We cannot censor what we say and what we do out of fear, because John…right now, you are all I have. Humans need connection. If I want to touch you, hold your hand, or pull you close…I can’t second guess that.”

“Doc…” he said, turning to face her.

“How long could this go on, John?”

“What?” he asked her in confusion.

“How long could he hold us hostage? It could be days, weeks…months,” she told him. “I don’t want to hurt Roman. I don’t want you to feel guilty for hurting Rebecca, but don’t push me away completely. Because we are all we have.”

John reached for her, pulling her into his lap, and he nuzzled his face into her hair. “I know, baby. It’s just…so hard, because with you, I always want more.”

His hand slid up her thigh, and his thumb slipped under the edge of her shorts. Marlena knew exactly what he meant. 

Cupping his bearded jaw in her hand, she whispered, “We won’t make love, and we–we won’t kiss anymore, but John, please, don’t shut me out completely. I need you, and you…you need me.”

He smirked at her, staring down at her soft lips, “No more kisses?”

Marlena chuckled, “What was it you said earlier? All I want to do is give you one soft kiss, and seconds later I’m devouring you?”

“Yeah, something like that,” he told her with a wry grin. Still he stared at her face in the moonlight, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her. “Maybe just one more…or a few more…”

John lifted her, turning their bodies so that they were lying on the soft cushion of the pool lounger. Leaning on his elbow, he stared down at her, and he whispered right next to her ear, “These clothes are going to be the death of me.”

Marlena sighed softly, when she felt the roughness of his palm sliding up her legs, “I thought we were going to stop this?”

“I don’t think I can,” he whispered against her lips. “I want to say fuck it, Doc. I want to forget the cameras and the recording devices.” His forehead rested on hers, and he groaned, “But I can’t.”

Marlena felt the cool night air on her skin, as John rolled away from her and stood up abruptly. The look on his face as he stared down at her was a mix of desire, and sadness. She was well aware that without cameras, and recording devices, John would strip her bare and make love to her right where she lay. Their natural inclination was to gravitate towards each other. It was as easy as breathing. Forcing themselves to maintain distance, that was what felt unnatural. 

She wasn’t certain what made her do it, but she slowly rose from the lounge, stepping close to John. His breath caught, and she smiled to herself, as she leaned up, whispering in his ear. “I know what you need.”

John choked a little, before whispering, “What?” He could imagine all types of things he needed, but what he wanted most was to release the tension that had taken up permanent residence in his body. He wanted to release it, by sinking into Marlena’s moist heat. 

She reached for his hand wordlessly, and started walking back towards the cottage. John followed behind her like a planet in motion, pulled by the gravity of her. His heart rate nearly doubled, when she passed by their bed, and led him into the bathroom, “Doc…”

Facing him, she released his hand, and placed her index finger on his mouth, indicating that he should remain silent. She crossed the bathroom in almost near silence, the only sound in the room was the soft shuffle of her feet on the cold marble, and John’s unsteady breathing. Oh, G-d, he knew what she was about to do. Opening the drawer on the far right side of the vanity, the drawer in which Stefano had conveniently left a supply of condoms, lubrication, and other items, Marlena withdrew a small bottle. 

His cock jerked wildly in his sweatpants, as she turned, approaching him, and she started sinking to her knees. Gripping her arms, he stopped her. His hands were shaking, his muscles trembling, as he pulled her towards the vanity. 

Marlena felt her pussy clench, when John’s hands began to roughly push her cotton shorts over her hips. What was he doing? She didn’t dare ask. She couldn’t ask. They had to be silent. Instead, she stared up at him with wide eyes, as he lifted her to the countertop, sitting her on a soft towel. The ache in her center grew almost painful, as he pushed her legs wide, and stared down at her swollen sex. 

Unable to hold it back, John grunted, feeling the painful throb of his blood in his engorged cock. He hastily pushed his own shorts down, stepping out of them, and then he was in the vee of her legs, touching her sex. His index finger running along the length of her slit, picking up her arousal. Marlena watched as he licked his finger clean, and she felt her core tighten in response. 

As quietly as she could, she opened the bottle in her hand. The scent of sandalwood and cardamom filled the air, and John watched her pour a liberal amount of oil into her palm, while reaching for him with her other hand. He stepped closer, biting his own lip when she smoothed the oil over his length. As hard as he tried, another soft grunt escaped him when she started slipping her palm up and down his cock. He bucked into her hand, wanting nothing more than to slide into her. He couldn’t think straight. He needed more. He needed her lips, her warm skin, but if he kissed her…fuck they couldn’t be quiet if he kissed her. 

It was one of the most frustrating and sensual encounters of her life. Marlena spread her legs wider, rubbing the head of John’s cock over her clit, and she nearly lost her mind. She continued to pump him, while stimulating herself, and she gasped. John reached up, covering her mouth with his hand, and he rested his forehead on hers, thrusting himself into her hand, while allowing her to rub his sensitive tip repeatedly over her clit. In mere moments, he felt the burn at the base of his spine that signaled his impending release, and still Marlena continued to rub him over her sex. Wanting her to come, and holding himself back from his own orgasm, John stepped away from her. 

He was trembling so hard, his muscles ached. Pulling Marlena to her feet, he poured oil into his own hand, and, stepping close to her, he reached back. Marlena nearly screamed when John’s index finger stroked along the crease of her ass. Her small palm encircled his cock again, pumping along the length of him, while one of his hands stroked and rubbed along her swollen folds and the other penetrated her ass. She exploded almost immediately, and just as she was coming down, he pushed another finger into her ass, and she started coming again. “Oh…oh…” she couldn’t stop herself. “Oh…”

She was a fucking vision, trembling flesh and bright eyes. Watching her orgasm for the second time, with his fingers slipping in and out of her while she pumped his cock, pushed him over the edge. He was lost. She was lost, and while there were no cameras in the bathroom, there was no mistaking the sounds picked up by the recording devices. The shuffle of clothing, the soft swish of skin against skin, the wet slide of oil, and the sounds of their lovemaking, no matter how slight.

In absolute silence, John placed Marlena back on the countertop. She was limp, staring at him with eyes that were full of love. Falling forward, she rested against his chest, softly caressing his lower back. He was her everything. Even after saying they wouldn’t make love, what had they done? After washing them both clean, he dried her off, slowly helping her back into her clothes, and he carried her exhausted body into the bedroom. 

There would be no mistaking what had just taken place in the bathroom, and Stefano might regret the fact that he hadn’t placed cameras in there. John settled behind Marlena in the bed, wrapping her in his arms, and he whispered, so only she could hear him, “Goodnight.”

Marlena turned to face him, wrapping her leg around his, and she kissed him silently, “John?”

“Yeah, baby?” he replied, feeling sleep finally reach for him.

“I don’t know what the future holds,” she said softly. She thought about Rebecca, and Roman. She thought about their families. “But…I won’t lose you again. I couldn’t survive losing you again.”

John didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t. He couldn’t promise to be with her forever. He couldn’t say they would get home safely. He couldn’t tell her if she would ever see her children again. All he could do was hold her, and love her. He could do everything in his power to keep her safe. He could do those things.

Chapter 40

Nukutepipi, French Polynesia

The following morning, the lawn around the cottage was covered with rain. The rain in the tropics falls like a soft haze, a mist that is almost magical. It carried the scent of tiare on the air like a perfume. It should have been a relaxing morning, but Marlena found herself staring at Dante with distrust. “Stefano is allowing us phone calls? Why?”

“He wants you to know that while you are captives being held here,” Dante told them, “he understands that you are missing family. You are each allowed one phone call.”

Stefano, wanting to appear magnanimous, was offering them the chance to contact people back home. John smirked. Nothing about Stefano DiMera was magnanimous. Everything was cold, and calculated. He was trying to lull them into a false sense of safety.

Marlena looked at John, and said softly, “The twins. I think they’re still in Colorado. I could call Sami and Eric…Oh! But then Carrie…”

A soft breeze blew through the lanai, ruffling Marlena’s hair, causing it to brush over her bare shoulder. John wanted to reach out and touch her velvety skin. It was as natural as breathing, but with Dante there, he found himself clenching his fist instead. He couldn’t touch her with Dante there. He shouldn’t touch her at all, but that was impossible.

“What’s the date, Dante?” John asked. He watched Dante pause, deciding whether or not to give them information. John said in frustration, “Tell us the date. She can’t decide where to call without it. It would be just like Stefano to refuse her another opportunity if she called Colorado and her children were back in Salem.”

Begrudgingly the other man muttered, “August 26.”

Relief crossed Marlena’s face, and again, John found himself fighting the urge to reach for her. She was wearing a bright yellow bandeau style bikini with a red flowered sarong crossed across her chest, and tied behind her neck. Every breeze against her skin, and every movement of her leg, tempted him with soft freckled skin. She was a vision. 

Marlena smiled brightly. “August 26…Their flight is set for September 1st. I wanted them home for a few days to get over the jetlag before school starts on September 5th. They’re still with my parents.” Realizing that John would likely call his wife, she stared at him and felt an overwhelming sense of melancholy. Of course, he would call Rebecca. His wife. 

Emotion played over Marlena’s face, and John stared in confusion as she studied the floor, refusing to make eye contact. Wanting to get rid of Dante as soon as possible, so he could speak to her, John said hurriedly, “Tell Stefano that Marlena would like to call the twins in Colorado, and I would like to call Carrie.”

Marlena looked up quickly, tears shining in her eyes, as she whispered, “John?”

Dante snorted, “Don’t you have a wife?”

Glancing sideways, John could feel the heat of Marlena’s eyes on him. To Dante he said, “My wife will understand that I want to check on my daughter.” He could feel the stroke of Marlena’s thumb along the palm of his hand, and he wanted nothing more than to push Dante out of their enclosure and pull Marlena’s pliant body against his. “Tell Stefano that we’d like to phone our children.”

Dante left their breakfast tray full of fresh fruits, soft coconut rolls, and eggs, sitting on a small teak table on the wide lanai, and walked out of their gilded cage. As soon as the clank of the lock on the gate clicked into place, Marlena stepped closer to John, pressing her body against him, and she cupped his face, whispering, “John…”

He should be using his phone call for Rebecca. As much as Marlena hated to think it, she knew it to be true, and instead he was going to call Carrie. Why?

He could see the questions in her eyes. Hell, maybe she was right. John considered Rebecca briefly. She was in Salem as far as he knew, living with Victor. She had the Brady’s to keep her updated, and her work to keep her busy. No, Rebecca would be fine. Carrie was the one who needed him. She was the one who needed reassurance and love. Marlena knew that too, which was why she stared at him with such a soft expression. Gently he told her, “We need to check on the kids, Doc. You know that.”

She hated to say it aloud. She hated to even think about Rebecca, but still she asked, “What about Rebecca? She’s…probably worried.”

John glanced up towards the camera tucked in the far corner of the lanai just behind the branches of a small, potted, Persian lime. Tugging Marlena’s hand, he pulled her around so that his back faced it, and his body shielded hers from view. Sitting down, he pulled her into his lap, and buried his face in her hair. He was overwhelmed, and frustrated. Their whole situation was taking a toll on him. With his surfacing memories, nightmares, and constant worry over his and Marlena’s situation, John knew his focus needed to be the two of them…and the children. He couldn’t spread himself any thinner. Sighing, he said simply, “Rebecca will understand.”

Marlena continued to stare into his eyes, “Will she? I don’t know that I would, if I were in a similar situation.”

I wouldn’t do that to you, he immediately thought. The idea took hold of him like a vise. If he were in this situation with someone else, and Marlena was his wife…he would call her right away if given the opportunity. Why? Because he trusted her. He loved her. She would tell him about the status of the children and he would trust that. Did that mean he didn’t trust Rebecca? Did that mean that, ultimately, Marlena didn’t trust Roman to tell her the truth? 

He remained silent for a moment, allowing himself to process his thoughts. He closed his eyes, absorbing the pleasure that came with holding her in his arms. Marlena was…safety. She brought a sense of safety to him. Like a ship in harbor after a storm, he needed her. Running the tip of his nose along her neck, John breathed deeply, catching a faint hint of cardamom and sandalwood. That scent. Remnants of what they’d done the night before, and he nearly groaned, feeling his body begin to respond almost immediately. 

Marlena could feel the tension slipping from his body, relaxing underneath her, and she allowed her fingers to slip inside his tank top, and brush through the soft hair of his chest. She whispered, “You have the chance to call her…and Stefano…he will find a way to let her know that you didn’t…”

“The kids…baby, they are the first priority. I decided as soon as Dante said we could call someone. It was going to be Carrie. When Carrie first came back to Salem, do you know what she told me? It was after Roman’s return…the night of the big storm, when the river flooded. She said to me, I only came back to Salem to tell you how much I hate you.” 

Marlena’s heart ached knowing how much that must have hurt him, “John…”

“Anna had her believing that I’d been lying to her the whole time. That I’d known I wasn’t her father. Getting that trust back, after it was shattered…I made promises to her, Doc, and even when I left Salem…I spoke to her every week. Sometimes more,” he told her. “She’s my daughter…in every way that counts, Carrie is my daughter. I rebuilt my relationship with her. I’m calling Carrie, and that’s the end of it.”

Marlena shifted in John’s lap, leaning closer to him. Breathing him in, she watched as his eyes closed, and he moaned softly. A warning, “Doc…”

It was the sweetest form of torture, having her in his lap, and being unable to make love to her. The circumstances behind their time together were not what anyone would want, but John couldn’t fathom being separated from her. 

Behind closed eyes he moaned again softly, as he fantasized draping her over the breakfast table as the soft haze of morning rain surrounded them. He could imagine feasting on her for breakfast. He could picture himself licking honey from her nipples, and sucking guava juice from her navel. His hips bucked slightly as he thought about how he would slowly pump his length into her heated depths. His arm dropped from her waist, settling on her knee, and he rasped, “You’re skin is so fucking soft.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Ducking a large porcelain vase, Bart stared at Stefano with wide eyes. He’d fucked up. He’d royally fucked up, and he could see that; however, at the time, he had believed that the camera’s he’d set up covered everything. He’d also believed that the sound devices would pick up everything John and Marlena said. He’d been wrong. John knew the angle of every single camera within the enclosure. He also knew the location of every recording device. John and Marlena’s midnight rendezvous in the bathroom had been the last straw for Stefano, and they’d only just arrived.

“You’re an imbecile, Bart!” Stefano roared. “I wanted every angle covered. Every angle. The work is sloppy, and absolutely no use to me, if John continues to do this!” Stefano gestured at the monitor, where John had positioned his back to the camera. Marlena was sitting on his lap, that much was obvious, but her whole body was shielded from their view. Not only that, their entire conversation was whispered, meaning nothing would be discernible on the tapes when they were played back. 

Bart stayed silent, feeling that was the best way to keep his life intact, and he waited. Stefano stared at him, and he said in a voice full of venom, “The other locations, Stockholm, Ballynacally, all of them! I want a camera and a recording device in every corner. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, boss,” Bart said with a dry mouth. He would have to go back and check every location again. “I understand.”

“Leave my sight,” Stefano told him in disgust. He watched Bart flee the room, and turned back to the monitor in frustration. He would have to do something about the current situation. John and Marlena were both incredibly intelligent, and he needed to do something to force their hand. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Marlena sighed, and rubbed her face against John’s neck. She wanted him to touch her body, to stroke her. She wanted to do the same to him, but all she could do was thread her fingers through his chest hair, and tug it lightly with a soft sigh. Her fingernail scraped over his nipple. A soft grunt escaped him, as his hand moved up her leg, grazing the fringe at the edge of the sarong, and Marlena glanced up, quickly locating the camera behind John. She knew his body was blocking everything, and she relaxed, allowing her legs to drop open slightly. “Touch me,” she whispered so only he could hear her.

“Fuck…Doc,” John murmured, pushing his hand higher, dipping his fingers between her thighs. “So fucking soft…I can’t get enough of you. I crave you…you invade my heart, and my mind…” His fingers squeezed her flesh, causing her to moan, the sound barely audible. 

“Oh…” she sighed. A deep throb started in her core. “I wish we were alone…”

“Open your legs wider,” he whispered. His arm wrapped more tightly around her waist, as he said, “Lay your head on my shoulder, and close your eyes…pretend you’re at home. We’re in the kitchen, and you’re sitting on my lap, but we have to be quiet, so the children won’t hear us…”

Marlena closed her eyes, rubbing her cheek along his shoulder. She could picture them seated in her kitchen. A myriad of thoughts went through her mind, but the most prevalent one was wishing it were true. Wishing that she was seated on John’s lap in her kitchen, allowing him to touch her. Her soft breath wafted over his neck, “John…”

“Relax, Doc. You just came home at the end of a long day. You need to release some tension, and I’m sliding my hand underneath that pink and gray plaid skirt you love so much. Spread your legs wider, baby. Let them fall open.”

“Oh G-d,” she purred, feeling the soft warmth of his hand slide over her hip, underneath her sarong. “Yes.”

John’s palm smoothed over her abdomen, “I want to touch you so bad. When you left the house this morning, I promised myself I would do this when you got home. I can’t wait. I can’t wait until the kids are in bed, so I slide my fingers under the elastic of your panties…”

Marlena gasped softly, feeling his index finger slip along her swollen slit, sliding through the moistness already pooling there. She tugged at the hair on his chest, causing him to grunt, and she shifted in his lap again. Lost in the fantasy, Marlena murmured, “We have to hurry…”

Flicking her clit roughly, John’s voice in her ear, he told her, “It’s gonna be fast…I promise…”

“I–I can’t,” Marlena moaned, shifting in his lap again. She needed friction. She was aching. She could feel the length of John’s cock growing against her. “John.”

“Fuck, baby…I’m going to come in my shorts if you keep rubbing your ass on me…”

Marlena buried her face roughly in John’s neck, and moaned, “Please. You’re teasing me.”

“Shhhh,” he cooed. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby.” John’s finger began rubbing over her clit, and circling it, all the while her hips rolled trying to increase the friction. She needed more, it was evident in her soft gasps, and her movement. His cock was engorged, the roundness of her flesh against him had him at the edge of losing himself. 

She was close. So close. Like a wave, growing inside her, ready to push her over the edge. “More. John, oh, G-d! More. Please,” she begged him softly, continuing to squirm.

Sliding his arm up around her ribs, he tugged her bandeau down, releasing her breast into his palm, and he cupped her flesh gently. Heat, warmth, softness. John wanted nothing more than to walk her inside the cottage, and throw her on the bed. “Marlena…G-d, woman…I love you so much.”

The heat of his breath wafting over her neck and the shell of her ear, pushed her over the edge. The wave washed over her like a tsunami, and Marlena whispered breathlessly, “I’m coming…John, John…Oh!” Her hips bucked against his hand as he continued to assault her clit.

John exploded in his shorts, unable to stop the flood. Having her in his arms, and watching her lose her mind in ecstasy, pushed him into his own oblivion. For long moments afterward, they sat in the morning sun on the lanai, trying to regain their composure and regulate their breathing.

Marlena softly stroked John’s chest, feeling the pebble of his nipple under her palm, and she whispered against his neck, “I love you…” She lifted her head, staring up at him with wide eyes, “You are my whole heart.”

“If the cameras weren’t here, Doc, I would devour you.”

Her eyes shined brightly, as she whispered seductively, “If the kids weren’t upstairs I’d let you, but maybe later you can help me with my sunscreen.”

Chapter 41

Marlena and Roman Brady Residence

Roman stood speechless holding the telephone receiver to his ear. Unable to believe what Martha Evans had just told him, Roman asked her, “Marlena called the children?”

Martha glanced around, making sure the twins were out of earshot, she said quietly, “She said that Stefano DiMera gave her and John one phone call each…she called the children.”

“Do you know what she said?” Roman asked. “Did you listen in?”

“Why would I do that?” Martha asked him in shock. 

“Because I’m damned sure Stefano was listening on his end!” Roman replied in frustration. “Did she say why she called the twins and not me?”

“She misses her children, Roman. I assume she wanted to hear their voices, tell them she loved them…and reassure them, since she hasn’t spoken to them in weeks,” Martha said. Roman was being obtuse, as usual. He was either refusing to understand a mother’s bond with her children, or he actually couldn’t grasp it. Either way he was wrong. 

“Did she say anything that might upset them?”

“If you’re asking whether she mentioned being kidnapped, no, she didn’t,” Martha said. “She’s a psychiatrist. She wouldn’t ever hurt her children if she could help if.”

“Right, right,” Roman said. “I know that.”

“I needed to speak with you about something. The children, well…Eric mentioned it to Marlena on the phone and I don’t want you to be blindsided. Frank and I were thinking that maybe Eric and Sami should start school here–”

“–why would they do that?”

“Roman, think about it,” Martha said softly. “Their mother was kidnapped, and she has been for nearly the whole summer. If they come home to Salem, they’re going to find out. They’re going to wonder where their mother is. Keeping them here, in Colorado…it might be better for them. They’ve already experienced so much loss and instability. Not to mention the fact that John has been kidnapped too. That’s bound to upset them, especially Sami–”

“Why would it upset Sami?” Roman asked in confusion.

Martha was momentarily confused. Did he really not understand? With a soft sigh, she said, “When you returned, that was difficult on the twins. They were seven years old. John was the only father they’d ever known. Losing him was a grieving process. Didn’t Marlena explain this to you?”

She’d tried. Roman couldn’t say she hadn’t, but he refused to listen. Even still he refused to listen, “That was years ago Martha. Sami is fine now. They adjusted. That’s what kids do.”

“Do they?” Martha asked softly. “Sami still has nightmares, Roman! She still calls out in her sleep, Daddy don’t leave me! and she’s not calling for you. If she finds out that her mother, and John have been taken by Stefano, it could push her over the edge. She’s only ten…almost eleven. She doesn’t need anymore sadness or trauma in her life if it can be avoided. So, Frank and I think it best that the twins start school here.”

“We’re going to continue to lie to them?”

“You call it lying, but Frank and I call it emotional protection,” Martha told him with growing frustration. “They’ve settled in. They have friends…and when Eric mentioned it to Marlena she agreed that they could try it out.”

“Doc told them yes? Without even consulting me?” Roman asked, feeling his pride wounded. Wasn’t he their father? Didn’t he have a say in decisions being made about his own children?

“How would she consult you?” Martha asked him. “You’re being ridiculous, Roman Brady, and you know that. My daughter is thinking about the wellbeing of her children. You should be as well. There’s an amazing Montessori school in the area–”

“–Fine,” Roman said, cutting her off. “Fine. I can understand why you might think that, and I can understand why Marlena might agree.” He didn’t want to understand. A part of him wanted to try and argue why everything Martha Evans was saying was wrong, but he knew it wasn’t. It was very likely for the best. He was overwhelmed with the search for his wife, and working his regular cases. His nights were full of anxiety and nightmares, where he’d wake covered in sweat with images of his wife being fucked by John Black burned to the inside of his mind. Dreams where he woke up breathing hard, and still able to hear Stefano’s laugh in the back of his mind.

Martha sighed in relief, “So? We’re in agreement? About Eric and Sami starting school here?” 

“Yeah, fine. That’s fine,” Roman grumbled. At least having the twins in Colorado could allow him to continue to focus his attention on his job and finding his wife. Glancing at the clock, Roman realized he was late. He was supposed to go to his parents house. His mother had been very cryptic about the request, and he could only imagine that it was another Stefano Dimera clue.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Caroline and Shawn Brady Residence

Bo’s eyes scanned the letter in his hand one more time. He could only imagine what his Pop was feeling when he’d received it.

You took something that didn’t belong to you. What was once innocent, and beautiful, became tarnished and bitter. I have taken something that belongs to you, and I believe that you know what that is. Don’t you? 

The Code of Hammurabi stated: 

If a man put out the eye of another man, his eye shall be put out.

If a man knock out the teeth of his equal, his teeth shall be knocked out.

Seraphina was mine. You took her, you changed her. She bore your son. A son which by all rights should have been mine! She suffered for what she did. The traitor that she was. She paid her debt, and so shall you. In payment I will destroy you, the son you raised, and the son I stole.

Bo looked at his father. The man sat silently in a wooden chair across from where he stood at the kitchen table. He looked positively destroyed. Abe, Rebecca, Shane, and Kimberly were utterly silent. Carrie and Roman hadn’t arrived yet, but Bo felt that when they did it would be more of the same. 

It was then that Caroline slid a photograph across the table. One single black and white photo of a woman on her knees. All she wore was a cotton shift, tight around her midriff. Her hair was shorn, as if taken haphazardly with a pair of scissors. She had her arms wrapped around herself holding her unborn child like the most precious gift. Seraphina. Probably the last photo taken of her. The whole scene was bleak. Absolutely bleak. It was one thing to know that Stefano had cut her hair, kept her, and stolen the baby, it was another to see visual evidence. 

Shawn had stared at the picture for nearly an hour when it arrived by courier. Caroline had knelt before him, prying it from his fingers without a word. One photograph and Stefano had broken a part of Shawn that could never be repaired. 

He was shattered. By believing Seraphina was dead, he’d allowed her to spend the rest of her life in the hands of a madman. He’d never known his son, not in the true sense anyway. He’d known John as Roman. He’d known John as a man that he loved like a son, but he’d never known John as his son.

Bo rounded the tabled, crouching down before the man he considered his father, and he said gently, “Pop, you didn’t know. There was no way you could have known.”

“But I should have,” Shawn said softly. Another slow tear escaped from his eye, as he said, “I received the package at the pub in Ballynacally, and I was destroyed. He threatened me family…everything was lost. I left Ireland a changed man. What did she think? She thought I left her? After I promised her I’d come after her. I didn’t. I can barely imagine what that man told her. I know, he broke her as surely as he broke me.”

Kimberly could feel the pain coming off of her father in waves. Stepping behind him, she leaned over, wrapping her arms around her fathers chest, and she rested her face next to his, “Pop, it’s a tragedy to be sure, but we’re going to find John. We’re going to find our brother, and your son, and we’re going to bring him home.”

Roman wasn’t sure what he’d walked in on, but sarcasm won out when he said loudly, “Ah, we’re discussing the long lost Brady son are we?”

Caroline stared at Roman for a moment, before crossing the room quickly, and grabbing him by the arm. She pulled him out the door onto the porch while everyone else watched in silence. Shawn said nothing. He had nothing left to say about much of anything. Reaching for the photo in Bo’s hand, he stared at it again. Studying every angle, every feature, but what he wanted to see most…Seraphina’s eyes…were cast in shadow. 

Kim’s eyes locked with Abe’s and then Shane’s. Shane nodded once, and Kim asked her father gently, “Ma said there was another photo. A clue?”

“It’s on the table near the couch, Kimmy,” he replied, still lost in time.

Rebecca was closest to the envelope that sat on the edge of the table, and she reached for it gingerly, passing it to Abe. Another photograph. This time it was a photo of John and Marlena.

Abe knew immediately where the photo was taken and what year it was. “I know this photo. When John and Marlena went on their first honeymoon, in West Virginia, they were nearly killed by the KGB. Almost blown up. John surprised her with a trip to Tahiti, a second honeymoon. That’s where this photo was taken, although how Stefano got his hands on it, I don’t understand.”

“I’ve given up trying to figure out how that man does half the shit he does,” Bo mumbled. 

“But it’s a clue,” Rebecca said. “A solid clue. Although rather obvious.”

Shane sighed, “The problem is there are nearly 120 islands in French Polynesia.”

Kim looked at her husband curiously, “How do you know that?”

Shane smirked, coming around the table and wrapping his arm around her waist, “Because I’m a genius, darling.”

“Or the ISA just sent us that information this morning,” Abe said laughing. “They sent us a list of several places that could be significant to John and Marlena, because of what we think is true…about Stefano’s plan, then we figured the next he took them would also be significant. Tahiti was on the list.”

Roman and Caroline entered the house on Abe’s last words, and Rebecca said, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Bo sighed, “This is what we were trying to tell you the last time, before we got way off track. Baliceaux was significant to the two of them because it was where Stefano was holding Marlena, where he tricked John into continuing to believe she was dead while taunting him with her existence at the same time.”

“Isla Tortuga was in Mexico. Mexico is significant to them because it was where they were separated yet again. Having them there forced them to discuss what happened. It forced them to face their feelings,” Shane told the room. “After Gauley Valley, we knew we were onto something. Another place which holds significance for John and Marlena. That was where they first fell in love. From what we’ve gathered, they were left there alone for days. It seems that they were kept there with electronic devices similar to shock collars. The ISA investigative team found set snares, cooking supplies, and remnants of destroyed electronic equipment. Which means, John and Marlena knew they were being watched. From what we can tell, they destroyed every recording device and camera on the property, except the ones outside the perimeter, which was marked.”

“Who marked the perimeter?” Roman asked curiously. “I can’t imagine Stefano being that considerate.”

“We think it was John,” Abe told him. “He would have done it to protect Marlena.”

As much as Rebecca hated the thought, she had to agree, “He would have done that. There’s no way he would have allowed someone to be hurt if he could have prevented it.”

“The ISA have the cameras now, and forensics is trying to retrieve data from them,” Shane said. “The bigger issue at hand is that we believe we’ve established a pattern. Stefano is intentionally moving them to places that hold value for them. Places in which John and Marlena have connected, or hold history. Abe, Bo, Kim, and I made a list of possibilities and set ISA agents to gather research. It’s going to be much easier to try to stay a step ahead, if we have the intel early.”

Rebecca was putting the pieces together in her mind slowly, and the realization she was coming to was not reassuring. Looking at Bo, she asked, “He’s pushing them together, isn’t he? Stefano is trying to re-form the connection between them…to hurt Roman, which in turn causes strife within the family, and hurts Shawn.”

“What?” Roman asked loudly.

“That’s what we think,” Shane told her. Rebecca was smart. One of the smartest people he’d ever encountered. She’d make an excellent ISA agent, if she ever decided to turn her head that way.

“That’s ridiculous!” Roman shouted. “She already cheated on me, before John left Salem. It wouldn’t take much effort on Stefano’s part to get her to do it again.” 

“If they’re being watched constantly,” Rebecca said to Roman, “John wouldn’t do that. He would know there are cameras…he wouldn’t want something like that recorded. Especially not if he knew it would be used to hurt people he cares about. He may want to make love to your wife…after all, I don’t believe he’s ever truly let her go, but he won’t do something that might hurt her. Or you.”

“The man barely tolerated me, Becky. Don’t try to make this an altruistic gesture. He’s not fucking my wife now to save me the pain?” Roman sneered.

“Roman, you’re such an ass sometimes!” Kim told him. “That’s not what she’s saying at all. Well, it is, but she’s saying that John is considering the whole picture. You, the children, Marlena, Pop, Ma…all of us. But mostly, he’s protecting Marlena. We can’t continue to deny that he’s in love with her. Or that she very likely loves him.”

“When we left Mexico, Kimmy, Marlena came home with me,” Roman said. “Her choice was made. Then she cheated on me.” He refused to consider how he’d manipulated Isabella that night outside Marlena’s hut. He refused to consider how he’d lied to Marlena about John agreeing to step away from the children. 

“It’s not always so concrete,” Abe said softly, remembering Marlena’s pained words in Mexico. “If you think it is, you’re fooling yourself. Stefano is pushing them together. Making them dependent on each other. As much as it hurts me to say this, Roman, we have to consider every possibility, every–”

The door opened so quickly, that every eye in the room turned towards it. Carrie stood there with a huge smile on her face, as she exclaimed loudly, “He called me! Daddy, he called me. Just now. That’s why I’m late.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Nukutepipi, French Polynesia

Marlena had selected the nightgown with the most coverage out of all of them, unless she stood in the moonlight. A knee length rose gold satin, with cap sleeves. Simple, yet nearly sheer with the light streaming through the window. Every curve, every angle caught in shadow, allowing John to imagine what she would feel like under the slick fabric. He watched her climb into bed, wondering if she had any inkling of what she was doing to him. 

John groaned softly when her soft foot slid down over his calf, and she curled herself into him. Her small palm landed on his chest, as she tucked her face into his shoulder. The day he’d married her, he remembered thinking that he couldn’t possibly love her anymore. He’d been wrong.

Marlena asked him softly, “Do you remember when you taught me how to pick locks?”

“I remember everything about that trip, Doc. I remember the way you laughed when that chicken stole your bread off of the table. I remember the look of awe on your face when we hiked the Fa’aruma’i Waterfalls…and I remember the way you looked when you came out of the pool the day I taught you to pick locks,” he whispered. “I remember it all.”

“I do too.” Her fingers lightly stroked his chest, and she said, “I used to lay in bed with Roman, and remember our time together. I shouldn’t have. Maybe I should have focused on my marriage. Maybe I wouldn’t have made so many mistakes with him.”

“I did the same thing. When I was married to Isabella…in my marriage with Rebecca. You have never been far from my thoughts, Doc. Never.” Slipping his hand around her back, John cupped her bottom, pulling her closer, and they settled deeper into their pillows. Softly, he whispered, “Let’s get some sleep, baby.”

Chapter 42

August 1970

Maison Blanche, Louisiana

Giovanni’s heart was beating so rapidly in his chest he could barely catch his breath. Every time he attempted to drag air into his lungs, they seized up. He had been laid out on a cold, dank, floor in a room made of stone. It was dark, with only a small wedge of light He glanced around furtively. Where was he? His mind still groggy from whatever drug he’d been injected with, he could feel warmth behind him. His wrists were tied to someone else’s, and he could only assume it was his Papi. Giovanni wasn’t certain how he could simultaneously wish his father were with him, while praying he wasn’t. He struggled to calm his breathing, but could feel himself beginning to panic. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to take deep breaths, holding them for several seconds before releasing. He was alive, and judging from the warmth in the hands tied to his, so was his Papi.

“Papi? Papi, sei sveglio? [Papi? Papi, are you awake?]” he asked softly. Giovanni started squirming his body, gently kicking his legs in an attempt to wake his father. “Papi?” A grunt sounded, and he almost sobbed in relief, feeling tears flow from his eyes onto the floor..

Luca struggled to come out of the haze that sat on his mind like a dense fog. He was cold, and damp. Something was wrong. His eyes opened to darkness when he heard Giovanni’s panicked voice calling for him. All he could do was grunt, make some noise or sound to let the boy know he was okay. The floor beneath him was hard, and almost icy. The kind of cold that seeped into the bones and radiated outwards. 

“Giovanni,” he rasped, struggling to sit up. “Dobbiamo sederci. [We need to sit up.]”

He could hear the panic in Giovanni’s voice when the boy asked, “Dove siamo? Sai? [Where are we? Do you know?]”

“Ricordi quando ti dissi che un giorno… sarebbe arrivato il giorno in cui un uomo molto pericoloso sarebbe venuto a cercarci? Quel giorno è arrivato, passerotto, [Do you remember when I told that someday…the day might come when a very dangerous man might come looking for us? That day has come, little sparrow,]” Luca told him, finally getting them upright. “Quel giorno è arrivato [That day has come.]”

A loud clanking filled the room, and the door slid open with the sound of grating metal on metal. Luca stared at the door, seeing only the outline of a large man in the doorway, cast in shadow, with a smaller man behind him.

Stefano stepped into the room, staring down at Luca and Giovanni. The boy, Giovanni, wasn’t much to look at. He was a mix of long, gangly limbs and wiry muscles. Maybe when he grew older he would come into the man he was supposed to be, but as it stood, he looked the part of a child. Luca stared at him with hard eyes, recognition almost immediate. Stefano saw the hatred lighting them up. He’d hoped to see fear, but Luca Floris was a proud man, even still he was helpless, and he knew it. Stefano could read it in the way he held his body.

“Rolf,” Stefano said, facing the man beside him. “I want them separated immediately.”

“Which one should I use for the placement of the microchip? I need a test subject,” Rolf replied. He was eager to get started, and having a live subject, possibly two, was more than he could have hoped for. Testing the next phase would require a human subject, because he had outgrown animal subjects. 

Stefano glanced between the two, and he said with a smug smirk, “You will start with Luca. His punishment is long overdue.”

Luca’s heart was torn from his chest in a single second. Even lacking the ability to understand what the man was saying, his intent was clear. Panic took over, as he stared up at Stefano. “Non separarci! Per favore! Non separarci! È solo un bambino— [Don’t separate us! Please! Don’t separate us! He’s only a child—]”

“He’s nearly a man!” Stefano roared. “You came into my home, and you stole him away in the night. I am only taking back what is rightfully mine!”

Two other men entered the room. They began untying Luca and Giovanni’s hands, but there was nothing either could do, since their legs were also bound. As soon as they re-tied their hands behind their back, they lifted Luca to his feet.

“Untie his feet until you get him into the lab,” Stefano ordered.

Giovanni watched with wide eyes, on the edge of vomiting, and unable to speak. Chaos took over his mind. It was only when the larger man pushed Luca towards the door with a rough, “Move”, that Giovanni screamed, “No! No! Non prenderlo! Per favore! [No! No! Don’t take him! Please!]” But it was too late. That would be the last time they ever saw each other as Giovanni and Luca.

“Giovanni!” Luca’s voice echoed down the hallway. “Ti amo, figlio! Ti amo! [I love you, son! I love you!]”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

January 1971

Maison Blanche

Stinging, burning, pain radiated across the surface of his back, and Giovanni cried out yet again as the needle went too deep. It felt as if it had been going on for hours, when in reality it had likely only been minutes. In the last week he’d been drugged, beaten, and sleep deprived. His food had come to him in half portions, and flashing lights, combined with loudly played arias were slowly destroying his mind. He lost count of the days, his thoughts and his memories being carried away on musical notes. He knew what the old man was trying to do. Stefano wanted to destroy him, but he refused to allow himself to forget who he was. Under his breath he mumbled, “Giovanni Floris…I am Giovanni Floris…”

A rag was shoved in his mouth, as someone said roughly, “Shut up!”

Giovanni’s head fell, hanging limply in front of him. He could feel the swipe of rough cloth across his shoulder, likely to clean off the blood, and then the needle was back. The mark of the devil, he thought. I have truly lost myself. 

He’d been lost ever since he watched his Papi walk away. Stefano found a sick glee in showing Giovanni the video of his father, Mason. 

“A new name for a new life,” Stefano told him smugly. “Watch as he stares at photos of you. Do you see that? He doesn’t even recognize your face. I must admit that Rolf is a genius.”

“Cosa hai fatto con lui? [What did you do with him?]” Giovanni asked. His Papi was staring at the photos with blank eyes. His movements were almost jerky, deliberate. Gone was his father’s casual stride. Gone was the soft look in his eyes, or the always ready grin that sat at the edge of his mouth. Giovanni could feel hot tears sliding from his eyes. As much as he hated his own vulnerability, and the weakness he was displaying, he couldn’t stop them. His father, his papi, was gone.

“English, Giovanni,” Stefano told him. “You are to speak English now.”

“Vaffanculo! [Go fuck yourself!]” Giovanni roared. “Voglio morire! Hai preso mio padre! Non ho nient’altro [I want to die! You have taken my father! I have nothing else].”

“Oh, no, John. When I am done with you, you will be everything I need for the ultimate revenge.”

Staring at Stefano, Giovanni said with venom, “Figlio di puttana! Il mio nome è Giovanni. [Son of a whore! My name is Giovanni.]”

“You will forget even that soon enough. Your name is John,” Stefano told him. He walked out of the dungeon, leaving the boy in the middle of the cold stone floor.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

February 1971

Verona, Italy

Seraphina sat in a large cushioned chair, staring blankly out the window at the meandering Adige River. The winter sun struggled to find a path through the cloudy sky leaving the room in low light. She’d been lost inside her own mind for years, that much her nurse, Catherine, could attest to. Seraphina hadn’t consciously spoken in nearly ten years. Sometimes in her sleep she cried out begging for her lover, or asking someone to take her child, but generally their days were conducted in silence. 

Catherine puttered around the room, cleaning up after breakfast, saying to Seraphina, “You have been assigned a new head guard. He should be arriving soon.” Seraphina’s eyes didn’t stray from the river, or even acknowledge what Catherine said. She continued to stare towards the horizon blankly without even a bat of her eyes. 

A firm knock sounded on the door, and Catherine scurried over, pulling the heavy wooden door open. The man in front of her was absolutely gorgeous. Deep blue eyes, and black hair, set off with tan skin. He was a specimen. She found herself momentarily speechless, attempting to adjust her uniform, and make certain her hair wasn’t in disarray. Quickly finding her voice she said to Seraphina, “Seraphina, would you like to meet him?”

Still the woman didn’t move or react, not that Catherine expected her too. She barely blinked, and had to be prompted several times to eat or drink.

Mason stood in the doorway watching the silent silhouette of the woman by the window with a bland look on his face. Why would he be sent to guard someone who was nearly comatose? To the nurse he asked, “I am to guard her?”

“Yes,” Catherine replied a little breathlessly. “Stefano insists on keeping her in the house; however, she doesn’t leave the room. She hasn’t in years. She used to go out into the garden, or sometimes she would sew…one day she simply stopped.”

“Hmmm,” he said gruffly. “Does she speak?”

“No…well sometimes she cries out in her sleep.”

Mason stepped into the room, getting closer to the woman in the chair. She would have been a beauty once. Her hair was long and black, braided down her back. She was dressed in a simple nightgown, covered in a silk robe. She was well cared for, and she didn’t seem to have any injuries. “Why is she like this?”

Catherine was quiet for a moment, and then she replied, “It’s not my place to speak of matters that don’t concern me.”

Mason knew she would say no more, so he only nodded his head once and turned to walk towards Seraphina. Stefano had insisted that he introduce himself to her upon his arrival, although in her state, he wasn’t sure what that was meant to do. He rounded where she sat, blocking her view of the river, and he crouched before her, making sure he was in her line of sight, “I am Mason. Your guard.”

Catherine watched in surprise as Seraphina’s eyes focused on the man in front of her. She never did that. She was nearly vegetative the majority of the time, but she stared at him with eyes that were no longer blank. 

Mason fought his instinct to pull away when Seraphina reached out with her cold hand, and grasped his wrist tightly. He was uncomfortable with touch, and the coolness of her skin unnerved him. Her mouth opened, as if to speak, but no sound came out. Glancing over at Catherine, he asked, “What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know!” Catherine replied in surprise. “She doesn’t…I mean she hasn’t reacted to anyone…or anything in years. It’s you. Something about you.”

Mason stared at the woman in front of him, and felt an overwhelming need to flee the room when he saw a single tear fall from her eye. Whatever was happening made him incredibly uncomfortable. Did he know her? Did she recognize him? He had no memory of his life prior to a few weeks earlier. He shook Seraphina’s hand free of his arm, and he stood abruptly, telling Catherine, “I will check the perimeter of the house, and then position myself at the front door. Ring the bell if my presence is required.”

As the door closed behind Mason, Seraphina returned to staring out the window. Catherine started to walk away, and then she heard Seraphina whisper so softly she could barely hear her, “Luca…”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Maison Blanche

Rolf stared at the young man in the bed, and said to Stefano, “The procedure went well. The microchip was inserted. I have checked that the computer program is able to communicate with the device via a satellite.”

“And this will be undetected, correct?” Stefano asked. He needed to be certain that whatever satellite Rolf was pinging his signals off of would not be traced back to him.

“Stefano? You doubt me?” Rolf asked with a devious laugh. “It is all under control.”

Giovanni sat in groggy silence. His head pounded, and his neck was throbbing. He stared up from where he sat leaning against a pile of pillows, and asked, “Cosa mi hai fatto? [What did you do to me?]”

In frustration, Stefano gave him a stern look, “John, I told you to speak English.”

Giovanni chose to say nothing at all. In the six months he’d been held captive he had learned enough English to get by, and he understood most of what he heard spoken. Still, he refused to speak it on principle. He would not be commanded to speak it. He was not a dog to be ordered about. 

Stefano sighed. In his experience he could break a person’s spirit in less than six months. John was proving to be a bigger challenge than he had expected. The boy was quite intelligent, but unusually defiant. He had plans to start John’s training, but first Rolf had to flip the switch, so to say. After observing John for nearly half of a year, Stefano knew that it wouldn’t be that simple. Activating the microchip would be worthless if they couldn’t overcome John’s innate ability to fight it. 

Reaching into his pocket, Stefano pulled out a book, tossing it onto the bed beside Giovanni. “I brought you some reading material while you convalesce.”

“Non voglio il tuo libro [I don’t want your book],” Giovanni told him, staring at the item as if it were going to burn him.

“It is a gift. A novel. A fascinating story about a man bent on revenge and his descent into madness,” Stefano told him. 

Giovanni stared at Stefano, and then asked, “Quindi è un libro su di te? [So, it is a book about you?]”

“Perhaps,” Stefano replied. “Pain, madness, and genius can often reside together.”

Chapter 43

Nukutepipi, French Polynesia

“What are we doing?” Marlena whispered against John’s ear, as she glanced furtively around her upstairs hallway. “You can’t be here. Roman could come home.”

“Roman’s not coming home…I called the station,” John murmured, pushing her back against the wall roughly. “He said he’d be working late on a case.”

“John!” Marlena gasped. “You didn’t!”

“I did,” he told her. “I fucking did…because I can’t keep doing this…we can’t keep doing this. It’s destroying me.”

“I don’t understand! You said you were leaving Salem…Where are the children?”

“With Shawn and Caroline,” he whispered. He bit the soft skin of her neck gently with a soft growl, and Marlena’s gasp caused more blood to rush to his cock. Her fingers tangled in the hair at the base of his neck, and she whined. She fucking whined into his mouth. 

“I don’t understand…”

“Do you need to understand?” he rasped out. “I don’t. I don’t need to make sense of this. I’m here…with you…” His mouth sucked at her tender flesh. “I won’t question any of it…”

“John…”

“I want you. I want to make love to you. I want to sink into your warm body…in our house…in our bed…”

“Oh, G-d!” she cried. “Oh…”

John’s pelvis pressed against her soft abdomen, and his palms cupped her ass, pulling her up against him. Marlena’s head fell back, hitting the wall with a soft thud, as she grabbed at his shoulders to hold herself steady. He demanded, “Do you want me?”

She stared up at him with arousal blown eyes, unable to speak.

Leaning forward he bit her lip, pulling it with his teeth. He growled, “Do you want me?”

Marlena couldn’t answer him. He saw it in her eyes. Admitting it would condone what they were doing. John was past caring about fall out.

“It’s torture, you know?” he whispered, staring down into her eyes. “It’s torture watching you dress in these prim little conservative outfits every day, and wondering if you come home at night and allow Roman to peel them off of you. I fucking dream about doing it. I fucking fantasize about what you’re wearing underneath.”

“Oh, G-d!”

John started unbuttoning her pink and white plaid jacket, while murmuring, “I imagine black lace teddies, and satin camisoles…I imagine little white cotton panties with small bows on them…” John rocked his burgeoning cock against her soft warm body again, and he groaned. 

Marlena couldn’t fight him. It was obvious she didn’t want to. She stared at him with wide eyes, holding her breath to see what he would do. He pulled the scarf from her shoulders, and spread her jacket open, revealing a fitted white teddy trimmed in soft lace. 

John stepped back, reaching for her hand, and tugged her towards the bedroom. Once inside, he kicked the door shut with his heel. “You are fucking gorgeous…and you are mine.”

“I–I–we can’t do this,” Marlena whispered. “We…can’t…do this…”

“Do you want me?” he asked her again. Yet, even as he waited for her answer, he was removing his necktie. She wanted him, and she was scared to admit it. 

He reached behind her, unsnapping her skirt, and pushed it roughly to the floor. She gasped softly, and John said, “You want this…admit it. The idea of me pushing you onto the bed you share with Roman…it turns you on.”

“No…”

He stepped closer, unbuttoning his shirt. Marlena watched as he exposed his chest to her one button at a time. She stood in a shaft of moonlight, a fucking angel in white, and all he wanted to do was strip her bare. His hands shook with the last button, and he nearly tore the shirt off of his own shoulders, staring at her with smoldering eyes. “Tell me to stop,” he told her roughly. “Tell me to stop and I will. But I swear to G-d, baby, if you don’t…this is going to happen.”

Marlena’s mouth opened, as if to speak, but no sound came out. John grinned at her with that sexy smirk he knew she loved, and he whispered, “Tell me to stop.”

A whine escaped her, as she almost cried, “I can’t.”

The light shining on her was perfect. Slipping his index finger under the thin strap on her shoulder, John pulled it down, and then repeated the process with the other one. He ran his finger under the front edge of the satin, tugging it down slowly, watching the way the silvery moonlight danced over her creamy skin. 

“Fucking perfect,” he moaned. “Does Roman worship your body? Does he tell you that your G-d damned gorgeous?”

Marlena could barely speak, whispering, “No…”

“You are,” John told her, softly stroking over her nipple. He watched as they tightened, and Marlena’s lips opened on a soft gasp. His hands pushed the satin to her waist, and he leaned forward lapping his tongue across her breast, and then he pulled back to blow on it softly.

Marlena gave up. Whatever had been going on in her mind, whatever struggle she had been having, broke and she gripped his hair in her fingers. A soft cry escaped her, and she pulled his mouth back to her breast. 

John grinned, staring up at her, “You like that, baby?”

“Yes. Oh, G-d, yes.”

Opening his mouth, he sucked her flesh between his lips, and Marlena’s keening response caused another surge of blood into his cock. John’s fists bunched the fabric of her teddy and shoved it roughly over her hips. Marlena’s fingers fumbled with the button holding his dress pants on his hips.

He slid his arm around her naked body, jerking her forward so she was flush with him, and he growled, “I have waited too fucking long.”

John’s eyes opened suddenly, staring at the ceiling, and he thought he might roar with frustration. He could imagine sinking into her swollen heat. His cock was so hard, it was agonizing. He pushed his hand down on it, attempting to relieve some of the pressure, but it only made it worse. Trying to calm his breathing he glanced down, hoping he hadn’t woken Marlena, only to find her mossy hazel eyes staring at him equally aroused. Fuck.

She started to pull her nightgown up, over her hips, and slid closer, every intention written on her face. The cameras. The fucking cameras. He wouldn’t allow Stefano to bear witness to any intimacy he had with Marlena. John stopped her, grunting softly, “We can’t. I–I won’t do that to you.”

“John…please,” she begged. Her own arousal causing a burning ache inside her. “Please.”

Desperate to get some space between them, to get away from her, he rolled from the bed, and hurried into the bathroom. His body was screaming for her. It was screaming for release. 

He was running from her, from their situation. Marlena knew that. She could have left him alone, and allowed him the space he thought he needed. She didn’t. Slowly, she left the bed, and on bare feet, she followed him into the bathroom. The room was dark, with only the faintest moonlight streaming in through the skylight in the shower, casting the room in a gray haze. Even with limited light, it was enough to see the way he held his body…shoulders tense, his head hanging. His back was turned, and she watched as he jerked the vanity drawer open, and rummaged around. When he turned, he had the bottle of oil in his hand. Flipping the cap with his thumb, his wild eyes caught hers, almost feral. Tension, sexuality, and desire rolled off of him in waves, and Marlena wanted all of it.

Lifting her finger to her lips, indicating silence, she crossed the room. Reaching for John’s hand, she took the bottle away from him, closing the cap with a soft snap. She reached around him, setting the bottle on the vanity. He held his breath watching her every move as if she were a predator and he were the prey. He nearly came in his pants as he watched her sink to her knees in front of him. His abdomen clenched, his heart was racing, and he found himself struggling to breath. All he could think about was the heat of her mouth and the slick slide of her tongue. Her fingers traced over his stomach, and he grunted again softly. 

Sliding his shorts over his hips, Marlena watched John’s cock bob, hitting his abdomen. She rested her palms on his hips, feeling the tremors in his muscles, and leaned forward, licking the tip.

“Fuck,” he groaned aloud. He couldn’t help it. John bit his own lip to keep from crying out as she pulled his hips forward, digging her fingernails into his flesh. His legs almost collapsed when he sank into the depths of her heavenly mouth. He could die right then, lost in the slick, wet, burning heat of her mouth.

Marlena’s core ached so much she was in pain. The flavor of John burst on her tongue salty and slick. Spreading her legs wide, she reached down, sliding her fingers along her swollen folds. She sighed. As much as she knew they needed to be quiet, another soft moan escaped her. It felt so good. John pushed deeper into her mouth, as his fingers slid into her hair. She moaned, allowing her teeth to lightly graze him, while rubbing her fingers over her clit with increasing pressure.

They were both on the edge when they had crossed the threshold into the bathroom. Whatever John had dreamt left him moaning softly in his sleep. By the time his eyes had locked on hers, she was aching. Now that they were in the bathroom, the tension between them continued to grow. John looked down watching his length slide in and out of her beautiful mouth. Her soft hum vibrated along his shaft, he saw her knees spread wide, and watched the sway of her hips as she brought herself to climax, and he was lost. Pulling her hair tighter, he pushed deep, unable to stop himself. Marlena started coming instantly. Scraping her nails over the sensitive flesh along his hip. John’s head fell back, and his vision went black. When it was over, he sank to the floor in front of her, pulling her close.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing over her face softly. “I love you so much.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Victor Kiriakis Mansion

Rebecca sat crouched on the black and white tile of her bathroom exhausted. The smell of vomit filled the room. Pulling a large wad of toilet paper off the roll, she wiped at her mouth, and fell back against the side of the bathtub. The bathroom would need to be cleaned. She stared at the closed door in front of her, trying to gather her thoughts. Vomiting didn’t definitively mean she was pregnant. There were other signs. Rebecca’s mind scrambled, trying to think of what they were. Irritability. Sore breasts. Did she have those? Her breasts had been tender, but she’d disregarded it. Irritability was daily for her given her current situation. 

Trying to remember the date of her last period, she realized it had been in Palermo, approximately two weeks before John left. Her hand stroked over her flat abdomen. Pregnant. It was possible. But she’d also been under a massive amount of stress. It could be stress. Her drunken tryst with Roman flashed through her mind, but she pushed it away quickly. No. If she was pregnant it had to be John’s. Based on her last period, it would be John’s. 

Yet, she could still feel the cool wood of Roman’s dining room table pressed against her breasts. She could still feel the edge of the carpeted stair across her spine. She could still feel the way Roman’s fingers dug into her thighs as he held her body against the wall of his bedroom.

“No,” she said aloud to herself. “No. It would be too soon. If it were Roman’s I wouldn’t be sick for weeks.” But still doubt nagged at the back of her mind.

A soft knock sounded on the door, and Rebecca heard a faint voice. “Mrs. Black? It’s Janice. Are you okay? I came to see if you needed anything this morning, and I–I heard you get sick.”

Fucking meddling staff. Victor’s whole house was filled with people that did nothing but gossip. Everyone in the mansion would know she was sick within fifteen minutes. “I’m fine, Janice,” Rebecca replied shortly. “Just a stomach bug.”

Just as the last word left her mouth, she was overcome with another bout of nausea, and ended up over the toilet. Her body continued to heave, even though there was nothing left in her stomach. Her joints ached, and her head began to throb. 

Standing up on shaky legs, Rebecca turned on the water in the shower. She stood naked 

in front of the mirror, staring at her body, studying it for any sign that she might be carrying John’s child. She cupped her breasts, lifting them and squeezing them. Turning to the side, she softly caressed the gently rounded slope of her abdomen. There was nothing there. Nothing to indicate that a child, John’s child, rested within her womb. Nothing rested there except doubt.

Chapter 44

Nukutepipi, French Polynesia

John pushed through the cool water, trying to rid his mind of the image of Marlena in a white bathing suit. He had to give Stefano DiMera credit for his attention to detail. A ruched bathing suit with a sweetheart neckline, was all it took for his mind to be bombarded with memories. One moment he’d been lying in the sun on the lounge and the next, Marlena had exited the cottage, a vision in white. He could picture her rising from the pool nearly ten years earlier, wearing a suit of almost the same design. He’d wanted nothing more than to strip it from her skin. He still did. 

Marlena watched John surreptitiously from where she sat on the lounge by the pool. The sun warmed her body, and she leaned back, adjusting her sunglasses, focusing more keenly on his form as it cut through the blue water. His arms stretched with each stroke. The muscles of his back rippled, and water undulated around him. She felt her core clench. Her thighs squeezed together, and the skin rubbed as she shifted her legs. Closing her eyes, she laid her head back, allowing images of the night before to assault her. She heard herself moan softly. 

If John was right, and Stefano was pushing them together, she was a goner. The more time she spent with him, the more she loved him. She thought about how this would affect Eric and Sami, how it might affect Carrie. They had already dealt with so much instability in their short lives. 

She was lost in her daydreams, when she felt a shadow over her, and then the sudden splash of cold water. Screaming in surprise, she took off her sunglasses, and looked up to see John standing over her, shaking his wet hair like a dog over top of her. “John! That’s freezing!” she laughed, pushing her palm against his thigh to move him back. 

He kneeled down beside her, leaning forward with a light in his eyes, and said in a husky voice, “You looked hot. I thought I could help cool you off.” His intense blue eyes glanced over the length of her body suggestively.

Even under the hot Tahitian sun, Marlena shivered, trapped in his stare. This was a dangerous game they were caught up in. A game Stefano was intent on winning. She shouldn’t be an active, or willing, participant, but still she whispered, “I could use help with my sunscreen. I can’t reach my back.”

John continued to stare into her soul, hesitating to move. The mere thought of spreading lotion over the curves and valleys of her soft velvety skin affected him. How could it not? He knew he would end up with a hard cock, and likely frustrated as hell. None of it mattered. He was a glutton for punishment.

Standing up slowly, John told her, “Scoot over a little, Doc.” John sat on the edge of the wide lounge, still staring at her warm skin. His palm stroked over the soft swell of her abdomen, and he nearly groaned aloud. Marlena’s skin pebbled, and John smirked. “Roll over on your stomach,” he murmured. He reached across her body for the bottle of sunscreen, which sat on the table beside her. He could feel her body shiver when the cool skin of his chest brushed her shoulder. Scanning the lines of her body, John thought she was gorgeous. Smooth, tan, freckled skin. The gentle slope of her back, rounding into hips, and the longest legs…legs he could imagine wrapped around his hips. Fucking beautiful. 

He reached forward, gingerly pulling the strap on her shoulder down. Marlena turned her eyes up to his with curiosity. “John…I’m not sure you should–”

“–Take your arm out…You don’t want tan lines, do you? Nothing to block the path of those beautiful freckles that paint your skin.” His soft fingers trailed over her shoulders getting lost in the feel of her underneath his hand.

Butterflies exploded within her, as she continued watching him intently from the corner of her eye. Still, she said nothing, slipping her arm free. John leaned across, looping his finger under the other shoulder strap, and pulled it down. Her body trembled in arousal. A faint vibration throughout, a tension that continued to grow.  That was the problem. Stolen orgasms, and a few kisses were doing nothing but holding off the inevitable. She was in a near constant state of arousal. It was making her risky. 

Following John into the bathroom the night before was a dangerous move. Even if there were no cameras in that room, there were sound devices. There was no doubt in her mind that their muffled moans and whimpers were picked up. John’s whispered curse, and his words of love afterwards were captured as well. Stefano would know without a doubt what they were doing, and she didn’t regret it at all.

John’s chest slid across her bare back as he reached for the sunscreen on the table beside her. He suppressed the groan that he wanted to release, and watched as another shiver shook her, even as the mid-day sun warmed her skin. Rubbing the sunscreen between his palms to warm it, John reached out, slowly sliding his palm up the length of her exposed back. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, “This reminds me of our honeymoon.”

Marlena was silent, laying on the lounge with her eyes closed. Memories of their honeymoon had been assaulting her since they’d arrived. The smell of the flowers surrounding them, the replica honeymoon suite, the food, the clothing choices…she was forgetting where she was. It was too easy to feel like time had gone backwards, and the fear of Stefano…the apprehension was all simply a bad dream. That was exactly what Stefano wanted. Her complacency, and the longer she was separated from her family the easier it was.

John’s palm’s pushed down her calves and then back up the back of her thighs, squeezing the soft flesh gently as he went. More flutters in her chest and belly took flight, and she sighed.

He watched her with avid eyes. The signs of arousal were obvious. A change in her breathing, the warm flush in her cheeks, the barely perceptible shaking in her muscles. His palm slid higher up her thigh, slipping more inward as he pushed down, dipping between her legs.

Her lips fell open, as she softly gasped, “John…”

“Your skin is so fucking soft,” he whispered, dipping his fingers deeper between her legs.

Marlena felt the ache growing low in her abdomen. A pulsing ache that bordered on pain. The best kind of pain.

“This bathing suit, Doc…” John started to say. “I–I can remember taking it off of you.”

She remembered too. After picking the lock to their hotel room, after ushering her inside with his hand on her lower back, after closing the door to the world outside, he’d peeled her damp bathing suit from her skin with the gentlest touch. Barely able to speak, Marlena whispered, “I remember.”

John watched the tension leave her body. He watched her thighs relax, allowing her legs to fall open a fraction more. “I can’t even put into words what you do to me…my heart…my soul…”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Salem Police Department

Roman, Abe, Shane and Bo stood over the table, looking at what Bo had written out. Roman had spent the better part of his life considering his little brother to be nothing more than a fuck up, but looking at what he’d worked out, it was dawning on him that maybe he’d been wrong. What was laid out before them was serious research.

Shane could see that Roman was impressed. As he should be. Bo was extremely intelligent. A hot head, but smart just the same. He’d worked out a lot of John’s past on his own, using ISA resources.

“So,” Bo said. “John was raised in Poltu Quatu on the island of Sardinia. We have medical records, school photos, and other documentation. By all accounts he was raised by his uncle, Seraphina’s brother, Luca. Luca was a fisherman by trade, and John, known as Giovanni, started helping as soon as he was around 14 or 15. Luca made no attempt to hide where they were. I think this was because he knew, if Stefano wanted to find them he would. Luca would have been aware of Stefano’s far reaching capabilities.”

“It doesn’t make sense that he wouldn’t try to hide,” Roman said.

“It does, if you think about it,” Bo told him. “Stefano was very likely aware that Luca had taken the baby. It would be to his benefit. Allow someone else to raise the child and simply steal it back at the right moment. Luca would have been lulled into a false sense of security as time passed. They both disappeared in late summer, 1970.”

“That’s it?” Roman asked. Shuffling through the papers laid out before him.

“What more do you want,” Abe asked him. He was confused about the way Roman was behaving.

“They just disappeared? That’s it?” Roman wanted to know.

“This is the point.  We think that both Luca and Gionvanni were taken by Stefano,” Shane said. “We wouldn’t expect to find a paper trail after their disappearance. There were reports that a family member came from Santa Teresina after several months inquiring about them, but there was no news. They simply vanished in the night, never to be seen again.”

“We believe that Stefano still has Luca with him,” Shane told them. “He may even be involved in John and Marlena’s kidnapping, although if his memories have been tampered with, it’s likely he doesn’t realize who John is.”

“Is there any evidence that he is?” Abe asked.

“Do you remember those photos of Marlena on the beach?” Bo reminded him. “The man with her…Roman thought at first it was John. We think it’s Luca. Stefano calls him Mason, and he’s his lead enforcer.”

“We also think Mason was the one working behind the scenes when Stefano kidnapped Eric and Sami back in 1985,” Shane said. “All of the intel we’re gathering points in that direction.”

Roman’s shuffling of the documents in his hands stopped, and he lifted his head quickly, staring at the other three men in the room, “What? Stefano kidnapped the twins?”

Bo sighed in frustration, wondering how Roman had gotten through nearly three years since his return and still knew next to nothing about what happened to his family while he was gone. “Stefano kidnapped the twins after your supposed death. Megan had just died and the lousy bastard thought he could kidnap your children and raise them as DiMera’s. He took Marlena too.”

“This is public knowledge, Roman,” Abe interjected. “It was well documented in the papers of the time and it all came out during Marlena’s trial.”

He looked like an idiot. Everything they were discussing about Stefano, Marlena, and his children. He should know it all, and be aware. Instead he stood there looking like a fool. In frustration, he asked, “What was she on trial for?”

“Murdering Stefano,” Bo told him. “She shot him in the rafters of the Opera House. It’s complicated.”

Roman stood, with his arms hanging limply by his side, trying to process what they were telling him. His mind raced trying to bring the pieces together in a way that might make sense. It was impossible. Marlena tried to murder Stefano? She hated guns. They scared her. Roman couldn’t imagine anything that might push her to murder, even if it was Stefano DiMera. Even as these thought raced through his mind, he blurted out, “What the fuck was she doing in the rafters of the Opera House?”

Abe’s patience had run thin, and he said in frustration, “In the span of a few months Stefano had killed her husband, and kidnapped her children! He was still a threat to the Brady’s. Think about it, Roman! Really think about it. What would push a woman like Marlena to murder?”

Roman was quiet, trying to imagine the situation. Did he even know his wife? What would have pushed her in that direction? Then it came to him. Fear. Desperation. Loss. 

“Look, Roman,” Bo said quickly. “It’s all off topic. The point is, we believe Mason may have been involved in the twins kidnapping. We believe Mason is involved in John and Marlena’s disappearance.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Nukutepipi, French Polynesia

John sat on the edge of the bathtub, staring at the wooden door that led into the sauna. Her bathing suit hung on a hook beside it. Closing his eyes, he felt his fingers clench on the corner of the tub, as he imagined her in there, wrapped in a towel that would barely hide anything. He could taste the sweat that probably trailed between her breasts. He could envision her hair in tendrils, sticking to her neck, and the pink blush that her skin would take on. 

Standing up, he growled, “Fuck! Fuck you, Stefano!” Still, he continued to pace like an animal. Fighting the need to be near her was becoming almost impossible. He wanted to say fuck it. He wanted to ravage her. He sat back down. John felt innately that the longer they continued to fight it, the more explosive their final union would be. It was inevitable. He had searched the sauna on their first day, unable to find cameras or recording devices. That didn’t mean they weren’t there, it could mean they were well hidden.

Staring at the sauna door, John’s abdomen clenched. Could he dare? If he went in there, with both of them wearing towels, would he be able to keep his hands away from her? His breathing came faster. Standing up, he pushed his swimming trunks over his hips, and he reached for a towel. “I won’t touch her,” he told himself. “I won’t fucking touch her. I just–I just need to be near her.”

He knew it was a lie as soon as he stepped inside the steam filled room. Marlena sat against the far wall, her towel tucked just above her breasts. Her blond hair was in a top knot, with strands curling around her face, and stuck to her neck with sweat. Her eyes were closed, and her head rested on the wall. Fucking gorgeous.

John sat across from her, saying softly, “Hey, Doc.”

Her eyes opened slowly, and he knew he’d made a mistake. Her pupils were wide, and her lips parted in arousal, and all she did was breathe out, “I was thinking about you.”

Chapter 45

Nukutepipi, French Polynesia

John’s soft voice flowed over her skin like a soft caress, and Marlena’s body trembled. She’d been imagining his hands on her beside the pool. A fantasy that involved him tucking the gusset of her swimsuit to the side, and the soft glide of his fingers through her swollen sex. She opened her eyes slowly, staring at him with a mixture of lust and want, and she whispered, “I was thinking about you.”

Wild images assaulted him. He stared at her imagining all the things he could do to her. He wanted to kneel before her pushing her legs wide, and lick softly over her. He could see himself tugging her towel from her body, and slowly sliding his palm up her abdomen. John groaned, closing his eyes for a moment as he felt the low throb of arousal begin. Coming into the sauna, thinking he would be able to maintain distance had been a naive assumption. 

Marlena continued to stare at him in silence, almost daring him to do something. Daring him to say something. She was turned on, and she’d been thinking about him. He knew that simply from the sleepy way she watched him. The way her eyes scanned over his chest, and the towel wrapped around his hips. Needing to know, he asked her in a rough voice, “What were you thinking about?”

She hesitated to tell him. Chances were high that anything they said aloud was being listened to somewhere else on the compound. Marlena wasn’t sure how much longer she could continue to live like that. It was wearing her down. It was affecting them both. To be caged, but caged in such a way that they felt isolated. They felt as if they were the only two people in the world. Their interactions with Dante were limited. They hadn’t seen Mason in days, and they hadn’t seen Stefano since the day they arrived. 

Feeling alone, but knowing there were eyes always on you…you started to forget. At first it had been a constant awareness. That had changed. There were periods of time when she forgot about the cameras completely. The logical part of her mind knew what was happening. The human mind was malleable, and under different types of stress it would function for survival. Her mind was creating a world in which only she and John existed, because the thought of living her life without her children, or her family was heartbreaking. 

Stefano had intentionally placed them in a situation where, not only did he wield all of the power, but they had only each other to depend upon. It truly was a game to him. There were times, as she lay awake at night that she questioned whether she was a kidnap victim at all. Stefano went out of his way to take care of them. Another way he could create a false sense of safety. They were well fed, they were housed, and he’d allowed them to call their children. Marlena’s mind was at war with itself. She was slowly being lulled into a false sense of reality. Where her old life felt like a dream and her current reality was beginning to feel comfortable.

Her eyes were still locked with John’s when she said in an almost drowsy way, “I was thinking about your hands on my body by the pool earlier.”

Intrigued, he leaned forward, “Is that all?”

“I was…” Marlena paused, considering if she should go on. Then she said with a soft smile, “I was imagining perhaps a little more.”

He watched her eyes trail down his chest, settling on the burgeoning growth beneath his towel. It was risky. He knew it. Their choices continued to push the boundaries of what they knew was right and wrong. The longer Stefano kept them isolated from everything and everyone…the longer he kept them alone together the harder it would be. John was well aware of this, even as he sat back, resting his back against the warm wood of the wall behind him. His towel slid higher on his thighs, and he felt his cock bob in response to her lingering stare.

Her thighs were trembling. Her hand shook, as she reached up behind her neck to push the sweat soaked hair away from her skin. Her mouth fucking watered watching his physical response to her. He shouldn’t have come in there. She could imagine that he knew that. Knowing John the way she did, he likely told himself he could handle it. Neither one of them had a handle on it.

From where his head rested, John said roughly, “Do you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“The tension. Coming off of me…coming off of you… It’s as if my whole body is shaking,” he said softly. “From the inside out. A tremble in my muscles. Like a low hum. The urge to hold you. To simply reach for you, and cradle you against me. I want to hold your hand, and feed you strawberries. I want to feel free to do those things, but also I want to make love to you. Fuck, Doc, I want to sink into you, and wrap you in my arms…instead I sit here across from you fucking vibrating from the force needed to remain where I am. I want to touch you.”

“I know,” she said on a short gasp. “I know.”

John wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he said in a rough voice, “Close your eyes, Marlena.”

She continued to stare at him for a moment longer, her breath catching in her chest with the intensity in his eyes. Slowly, she allowed her head to lean back against the wall and closed her eyes. 

“Do you remember those nights when I would be gone on stakeouts? Those long nights when I would come home in the earliest hours of morning and crawl into bed beside you?”

A soft smile came over her beautiful face, and she breathed, “I do. I used to intentionally go to sleep in my sexiest nightgowns.”

“I’d come home, tired, exhausted, and you’d roll towards me. You’d reach for me, and a soft groan would fall from your lips…and nothing mattered. Not the fact that I hadn’t slept, or the fact that you were asleep… It was just you and me,” he said.

Marlena sighed, remembering the sleepy way she would look up at him. The way he would kiss his way softly up her arm, every touch of his lips bringing her closer to waking. Half asleep, her lips would search for his with a moan of desire. Her body shifted on the bench, and she pressed her thighs together tightly.

“Can you feel my hands slowly working into your hair?” he asked her.

Marlena  whispered, “Yes.”

“Your skin is like velvet under my fingers. Your lips are like fire.”

“John!” she cried out softly. She could feel the sweat rolling down the valley between her breasts. Her breathing was coming in short, almost sharp pants, as John’s word wove a spell around her. 

“Shhh, baby…the kids are asleep.”

Marlena’s core clenched. How many times had he said that to her during their time together? All the times they had made love during Saturday morning cartoons, rights after the kids had gone to bed. 

“You’re fucking beautiful, Doc. Your hair all sleep tousled, and your nightgown sleeve falling off of your shoulder. I touch you.” John watched Marlena shift again, noticing the way her eyes seemed to be moving rapidly underneath her eyelids. “I slide my finger over your pussy just to see if you’re wet for me. Can you feel it?”

Her eyes opened, and John could see into the deepest parts of her soul. He watched her swallow thickly, and then close her eyes again. John smiled. She liked this. She liked his dirty words, and the imagery he elicited. 

Marlena wasn’t sure where reality ended and John’s fantasy began. Her legs squeezed again, causing a delicious ache to grow in her. She could feel her own arousal pooling and all she wanted was John. His fingers, his mouth…his cock. She moaned, rolling her head to the side, unsure if he was trying to make her come or torture her.

“Open your legs for me, baby,” John rasped. The rounded tip of his cock was sticking out of the edge of his towel, and when Marlena allowed her legs to fall wide, he felt another surge of blood. “Yeah that’s right. Touch yourself. Imagine the tip of my fingers sliding through those swollen folds.”

Marlena hesitated only a fraction of a second, before her impulses took over. She needed relief, and if it would come at her own hand, so be it. Pushing her towel higher on her thighs, she softly touched herself. Her eyes opened, and she whispered, “I want your hands on me. I want you to touch me.”

“I can’t.” He was silent for a moment and then he said, “Close those beautiful hazel eyes, Doc. Imagine my fingers stroking you…” John watched as her index finger dipped, and then slowly stroked over her clit. “Fucking gorgeous, baby. Yeah, just like that. Slowly circle your clit. Can you feel my hands on you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Marlena’s eyes opened again, and she found herself staring into John’s deep blue gaze. His cock was engorged, and his towel had fallen partially open. Barely audible, she gasped, “I want to see you.”

Reaching for where his towel was tucked at his hip, John slowly tugged it free, allowing his length to slap against his abdomen. “Open your towel, Doc. I want you to watch you touch yourself. Imagine my tongue on you. Imagine my hands on your body. I want to watch you come.” His fist wrapped around his cock, and he pumped it several times while continuing to study her movements. The way her hips rocked. The slow way her finger circled and pressed on her clit. The way her eyes wouldn’t release him. “Fuck…yes. Just like that.”

The fantasy was over. Marlena’s eyes locked with John’s, watching him slowly caress himself. Softly, she whispered, “I ache so much, John.”

“Have you ever made yourself climax…imagining me?”

“Yes.”

“What did you imagine?” he wanted to know, still slowly stroking his cock.

“You–you came to my office,” she said, continuing to rub over her clit in gentle circles. “I…you…”

“What did I do, baby?”

“You took off my panties, sliding them down my legs,” she whispered breathlessly. “You lifted my legs, spreading them wide, and hung them over the armrests of my office chair.”

John started pulling at his cock with more force, and he noticed that Marlena was rubbing over her sex with three fingers. “Did you make yourself come in your office?”

“After you called me for my birthday…I was distraught, upset, lonely…aroused. I couldn’t think,” she told him. “The sound of your voice. Your laugh. I imagined that you knocked on my office door. That you were with me.”

John imagined her hanging up the telephone on her birthday. Saying goodbye to him, and then dreaming of him. Touching herself, and making herself fucking orgasm in her office chair imagining his lips on her. 

Marlena’s free hand slid up her sweat slick skin, and she cupped her breast, squeezing it in frustration. She felt out of control. Frenzied. With a low pitched, almost desperate whine, she lifted her foot to the bench, rubbing over her slick pussy with more force. “John…John…I’m close. I’m so close,” she panted, allowing her head to fall back against the wall.

Her eyes closed, and John said roughly, “Look at me, Marlena.”

Marlena’s eyes snapped open, and her core clenched, then she could feel her pussy start to clench and roll. She was diving into John’s eyes, crying out into the steam filled room, “Oh, G-d! John!”

She was gorgeous…primal, staring at him as if he had the power to hold her to earth as she soared. John felt the pull at the base of his spine, as he started to come, and he roared, “Fuck! Doc!”

All she wanted was to cross the room, and fall into him. She wanted to feel his arms around her, and his lips on her neck, but if she did, it wouldn’t stop there. She knew it. John stared at her breathing hard, while he still held his softening cock in his hand, and she saw it in his eyes. If either of them touched the other any restraint they might still have would be gone. As it stood, she figured it was only a matter of days.

Chapter 46

Nukutepipi, French Polynesia

Stefano listened to the audio recording of John and Marlena in the sauna with a mixture of admiration, rage, and arousal. John was certainly smarter than he had ever given him credit for, and his willpower, although waning, was still intact…mostly. Even without video of their interaction in the sauna, the audio provided enough to make a man’s imagination go wild. Stefano could at least be secure in knowing that it would torture Roman. It was definitely time for Roman to receive another gift, letting him know that his wife was alive and well. 

Mason stood near the door with his eyes averted, and Stefano said to him, “Does this bother you?”

“It’s very intimate,” Mason said carefully, trying to block out the audio Stefano had playing. It did make him uncomfortable, and he was having difficulty understanding why. He’d been privy to some very intimate moments in his time working for Stefano. For some reason, a reason he couldn’t quite pinpoint, this particular moment made him quite uncomfortable. He could only attribute his unease to the growing number of incidents in which his mind flashed images at him. The brightest blue eyes, or a small voice calling out Papi. Then there were the emotions. Warmth. Love. Contentment. All of it was foreign and all of it slightly scary. Mason scoffed to himself most times. Scary? He was nearly sixty-five. He couldn’t remember anything prior to the year 1970. Why would he suddenly start having memories of a child? A child with blue eyes…a child that looked suspiciously like a much younger John Black. Perhaps, Stefano was right, he was becoming too involved with John and Marlena. 

Eyeing Mason carefully, Stefano wondered if it wasn’t time to retire him. He had been unwavering in his service for twenty-five years, but he seemed to be losing his edge. For what he had planned, he needed Anthony. Interrupting Mason’s moment of introspection, he said, “Send Anthony to see me.” John needed to be pushed into acting, and Anthony would be the perfect catalyst. His years-long hatred of John would be quite beneficial, and for what Stefano had planned, Anthony was sadistic enough to carry it out.

As Mason left the room, Stefano took a letter opener from the drawer of his desk and slid it across the opening of a large manila envelope. His first report from Salem. He was expecting it to be full of information about Roman’s fruitless search for Marlena. Instead, a pile of 8×10 black and white photographs fell into his hands.

Stefano wasn’t often shocked or surprised. At that moment, he was. For seven years Roman had done nothing but remain steadfast in his faith that he would return to his wife. He would get his life back, and everything would continue on the track that he’d originally intended. How quickly he had buckled in the face of her betrayal and her abduction. How quickly he had lost faith. Stefano had expected Roman to crack. He had expected him to lash out. He had expected the man to become almost obsessive in his search for Marlena. Every single photo, and every single audio recording Stefano had sent to him was intended to push him over the edge. He hadn’t expected what he held in his hands.    

He stared at the top photograph for a moment, and then began to quickly shuffle through them as a smug smile spread across his face. Roman holding John’s wife against the wall. Roman with his palm on her back, pushing her naked body against his dining room table. Roman holding her against himself while he pounded into her. Stefano couldn’t have hoped for anything better to fall into his hands. He only had to figure out what he was going to do with the information. 

“Oh, how the mighty Roman Brady has fallen,” he said with a chuckle. “John and Marlena are not the only players in this game to be unfaithful it seems.”

Stefano was lost in his own thoughts when Anthony entered his study, followed closely by Mason. He seemed nervous, as he should be. Stefano had him on overnight guard duty on the perimeter of the island, and the trash detail. Anthony had every reason to be apprehensive. He was well aware that Stefano had put him on the worst details since that stunt he’d pulled in Gauley Valley. He was even more anxious when Stefano excused Mason, instructing him to wait outside. 

He stood, caught in Stefano DiMera’s dark gaze, and waited. Finally Stefano said, in a very serious tone, “I have a job for you. You are not to tell anyone about what I am asking you to do. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Anthony replied, slightly surprised.

“You have held a long standing hatred for John Black. Am I correct in that assumption?”

Anthony’s eyes widened a fraction, but he didn’t respond right away.
“Ah, come now, Anthony. Don’t act surprised. I know everything that goes on with my staff and my properties,” Stefano said. “There was a job you were assigned to, in Paris, with John…back in ‘82, I believe.”

“He left me for dead, sir,” Anthony replied in a voice laced with antagonism.

“I need you to harness that anger and rage. I need you to do something for me,” Stefano told him. “You will have free rein; however, you will not kill John or Marlena. Do you understand?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Salem Police Department

It was late. Abe wanted to get home to his wife, and get some rest. The search for John and Marlena was exhausting, and they seemed to be making no headway at all. Shane’s most recent report from the ISA was giving them some hope. “So he was there? At this plantation in New Orleans?” Abe asked.

“Maison Blanche,” Shane replied. “We know for a fact he was there, for a period of approximately a week…the week we think John and Marlena were in Gauley Valley.”

“It would make sense,” Bo said. “Stick them in the mountains with fucking dog collars on their ankles while he goes off to another property.”

“But why?” Roman asked. “Why? If he’s been with them the whole time, going with them from property to property?”

“That’s what Bo and I are going to head down there and find out,” Shane said. “We have an undercover contact in the house, which took a massive amount of work. The fear that Stefano instills in the people who work for him is unreal.”

“How can we be sure it’s not a trick?” Abe wanted to know.

Shane was quiet for a moment, remembering the interview he’d conducted with Celeste Perrault. He looked at Abe and said, “She’s been properly vetted, and she has her reasons for wanting to see Stefano’s downfall as much as we do.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Nukutepipi, French Polynesia

Mason watched Anthony step out of Stefano’s study nearly two hours later with a smirk on his face. A feeling of unease washed over him. Unease, and fear. There it was again. That feeling of knowing something was wrong, or feeling scared, but for who? And why? Their eyes caught and held for a moment, before Anthony took off around the corner where a large marble pillar stood. 

“Mason,” Stefano called from inside.

“Yes, sir?” Mason replied entering the room. 

“I’m moving Anthony to guard duty for John and Marlena in the cottage. You will be doing guard duty along the perimeter of the island,” Stefano told him.

Something was wrong. Anthony was vicious. He was sadistic, deriving pleasure in the pain of others. There was absolutely no reason for Stefano to assign him to John and Marlena, unless there was another reason. Anthony’s hatred of John because of the botched heist in Paris back in ‘82 was well known among the mercenaries, and it was Anthony’s shame. After Anthony had rigged the rope wrong, John had barely escaped, leaving Anthony behind. They’d thought he was lost for good, until he’d returned a few weeks later. He had a badly infected gunshot wound to his lower leg, and he was almost twenty pounds lighter, but he was alive. No one ever knew what he’d been through, and he never bothered to enlighten them. By then John was already working in Capri with Gina Von Amberg, but Anthony’s hatred and vendetta had persisted for years. He’d barely survived, and John had done exactly what he was supposed to do. What they were trained to do in those situations. Friendship, loyalty…love. Those emotions didn’t exist in their world. And yet, Mason found he was starting to feel something.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Pier 14

Thunder rumbled in the distance, followed a few seconds later by lightning flashing across the sky a few miles away. Roman stared out over the water of the Salem River with a sigh, and said to Abe, “I’m still trying to figure out why Carrie would be calling John in Italy every week for the past two years, and not bother to tell me or Doc.”

“His leaving was very abrupt,” Abe replied, trying to sound unbiased. “I’m sure it was hard for her. She was with Anna when you returned.”

“But, Abe, I’m her father!” Roman exclaimed. “I was the one in her life until Stefano took me away.”

“Roman, she was ten years old! The next time she saw you she was seventeen. That’s a long time to be thinking that someone else is your father,” Abe told him. “She went through a lot while you were gone.”

“I know. I’ve heard,” he said sarcastically.

Abe was getting frustrated. He’d watched Roman play the victim for years. He’d watched him refuse to listen to his children. He watched him belittle Marlena, and make assumptions about her and her job. He asked, “But have you? Have you heard any of it? Because Roman, I think most of the time you listen to react…to nitpick, or be argumentative, but you’re not really hearing anything being said to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Roman wanted to know.

“Think about it, buddy,” Abe said. “Really think about it. How many things have come up in this investigation that have been a complete shock to you? Things you should have known? You didn’t know about John and the pagoda trigger, you didn’t know about Stefano kidnapping the twins or Marlena…or even later when he kidnapped Carrie for that matter! You didn’t know about Marlena and John being chased through West Virginia–”

“–Abe! It hurts too much! I don’t want to hear about any of it!”

“So, you just pretend it didn’t happen? You can’t tell me that you believed that Marlena sat here in Salem pining over you for seven years.”

Roman was silent, realizing that was exactly what he’d done, and the idea that life had gone on without him was still something his mind struggled with everyday. He’d spent seven years imagining the twins as babies, and remembering Carrie as a ten year old. When he’d come home, the children were nearly eight, and Carrie was ready for college. 

Abe saw the frustration and confusion on Roman’s face, and he said gently, “John was here during that time. I know it hurts. I know it does, partner, but he took care of them and he loved them…even after we thought Marlena had died. For five years he raised those kids alone, and he loved them.”

“And when I came home, he should have stepped away. Once you all realized that he wasn’t Roman, he should have given it all up,” Roman said.

“Are you really that cruel?” Abe asked him. “John did give it all up! He packed his things and left the only home he’d known. Not only is it cruel for you to expect him to disappear, it’s unfair! Not to mention the effect it must have had on Sami and Eric. He came to Salem with nothing, and they were all he had.”

“I was in a fucking prison for seven years in a G-d damned jungle!” Roman roared. “Hell, yes, I wanted my life back! I wanted what was mine!”

The storm was getting closer, the boom of thunder and the flash of lighting were almost simultaneous. Abe asked softly, “But with no regard for what their experiences were? Without wondering what Marlena had been through? Or Carrie, or the twins? How they might feel to lose the man they knew as their father…or their husband?”

“He wasn’t their fucking father, and he wasn’t Marlena’s husband!” Roman said in a bitter voice.

“But, he was…and that’s what you’re failing to see,” Abe said. “Have you ever once stopped to acknowledge what John lost? What Marlena and the kids lost? He was Marlena’s husband for a whole year, before she was taken. He mourned her…hard. For five years he was a father to those kids. He put them to bed, he coached their sports, he put bandaids on their cuts, and he read them bedtime stories. He was there for them every single time. They felt loved and adored. You came home bitter and angry, and you pushed him out of their lives, when you should have been thanking him for devoting his life to your children.”

Chapter 47

Nukutepipi, French Polynesia

Marlena stretched her arm, trying to reach the can of cranberry sauce that sat on the top shelf. She took a deep breath stretching further, extending herself as far as possible, nudging the can with the tips of her finger, and only managed to push it back even further. She groaned in frustration. She could hear the sounds of her family in the living room, singing Christmas songs, along with the sound of Sami and Eric’s laughter as they played with Shawn D. 

She started to turn around to exit the pantry so she could get the step ladder she kept near the washing machine, when she felt the heat of a palm on her hip. Without looking, she laughed, “Roman, there isn’t enough room in here for both of us.” But then she heard Roman’s booming laughter from the living room, and she became very still. The hand on her hip slid around, and over her thigh, and Marlena felt as if her breath caught in her chest. Quietly, barely above a whisper, she managed to choke out, “John?”

Of course, it was John. She took a deep breath, breathing him in. His scent surrounded her. She whispered, “You can’t be in here with me.”

“No one will even notice I’m gone,” he told her softly, pushing his hand deeper between her thighs. 

Marlena tried to turn to face him in the small space, and he rasped out, “Don’t. Don’t, Doc. If you turn around right now, I’ll kiss you…and I promised you I wouldn’t do it again.”

Her heart pounded, and she tried to swallow but suddenly her throat was so dry. Should she do it? Turn around? Would she dare? John’s hand slid back up slowly, making its way around the curve of her hip, where it landed gently on her abdomen. His face nuzzled her neck. She could hear his harsh breathing, and Marlena moaned, leaning back into him. “You should…you should go,” she whispered.

“I will. Just let me…let me hold you for a moment,” he breathed out in a rough sounding voice. 

She wanted him to hold her. She needed his arms around, if only for a moment. Marlena’s head fell back against John’s chest,“Oh, G-d.”

But John didn’t just hold her. His palm made its way under her beige sweater, caressing over the soft skin above her navel. He could feel the shivers across her skin, and he pushed his hand more firmly against her. His other arm crossed over her chest, cupping the front of her neck gently, as he murmured, “You smell so fucking good…”

“John,” she gasped. The way he was touching her was possessive. It was more than simply holding her. “John, you need to stop this.”

Instead of letting her go, his arm dropped, and reaching back, he silently pulled the door to the pantry closed, leaving them shadowed in soft gray light. Marlena’s body started to tremble when he slipped his warm hand back underneath her sweater. She almost cried out when his lips softly kissed her exposed shoulder.

John murmured, “Doc…I can’t stop this. I dream about you. Everything I see somehow reminds me of you.”

“Oh,” she sighed. Turning quickly in his arms, she said, “We have to get out of here. John, I can’t be found in here with you—”

She started to push at his chest. Suddenly, she heard footsteps, and Roman’s loud voice asking, “Hey, Bo? Is Doc in here?”

“No, the kitchen is empty,” Bo replied. “Maybe she ran to the store? She was saying something about cranberry sauce.” 

“That’s probably it,” Roman said. “How are things going with you and Carly?”

“It’s complicated,” was Bo’s only reply.

“I don’t understand what’s complicated,” Roman said carelessly. 

Inside the pantry, John slipped his hand higher underneath Marlena’s sweater. His fingers skimmed over the sensitive skin on the underside of her breasts, before cupping them gently. Marlena’s mouth opened, as if to gasp, as she stared up at him, and then John placed his mouth on her ear, “Shhhh…”

What could she do? Roman and Bo were right outside the pantry door continuing their conversation about Bo’s crumbling relationship with Carly, while John held her in near darkness touching her body as if she were his. As if he were free to caress her skin, or lick over the shell of her ear. He rocked himself against her and she could feel the length of his cock. She wanted to tell him they should stop, but she couldn’t speak for fear they’d be discovered. But maybe, maybe she didn’t want him to stop at all. She couldn’t think clearly with him so close to her.

Helplessly she tried to push John’s hand away from her breast, but his fingers hooked under the strap of her bra, pulling it down. Marlena bit her lip to keep from gasping as his fingers rolled and tugged at her hardened nipple. She couldn’t stop him. Did she want to stop him? His mouth trailed over her collarbone, and his other arm wrapped around her hips, roughly jerking her body closer. She squirmed against him, but his arm became tighter. Marlena finally looked up, staring into his eyes, and she was lost. Completely and irrevocably lost. 

While she stared at John, trying to figure out what he was planning to do, Roman’s voice came to her, “I think you should talk to Carly.”

“I did talk to her,” Bo said loudly. “Nicky is her son! I can’t ask her to give him up!”

With his lips against Marlena’s ear in the darkness, John whispered, “I want you. I want to sink into your warm, wet, pussy while your husband stands outside this door.”

She took a short intake of air. He couldn’t! But, she said nothing in response when John turned her to face the shelving, and he started to slide her soft cotton pants over her hips. Marlena’s mind screamed at her to stop him, even as she allowed him to push her pants to the floor. She knew, as soon as his index finger slid along the crease of her bottom, and through her swollen sex from behind, she would never stop him. Her hips pushed back, allowing John’s fingers to sink even deeper between her thighs, and Marlena bit her lip to keep from crying out.

When her breath began to stutter, John clamped one hand over her mouth, while his other scrambled to unfasten the fastening on his jeans. “I’m going to fuck you, baby. I’m going to fuck you right here.”

Her legs almost buckled when the tip of his cock slid between her moist folds bumping her clit roughly. Her breath was coming in stutters, as John pulled back and then slid his length between her thighs again. Marlena squeezed her legs together, and John bit her neck, under the fall of her hair, pulling back and pushing in again with a jerky motion.

Outside the pantry, Marlena could hear Roman say to Bo, “What the fuck is taking Doc so long at the store? It’s one damned can of cranberry sauce!”

“Roman, it’s Christmas!” Bo told him. “Maybe everyone has the same idea.”

Her hand lifted, gripping the edge of the shelving, and she stared at the charm bracelet John had placed on her arm only hours before. Trailing his fingers up her arm, he threaded his fingers through hers holding her steady, and he lined himself up with her opening, pushing his cock deep into her center. Marlena grunted, the sound muffled by John’s hand still on her mouth. It felt so good. So deep. So full. She squeezed her muscles tightly around John’s cock, and pushed back, ensuring that he was as deep as possible. She needed more. So much more.

She tried to spread her legs wider, but her pants held her confined. Marlena was helpless as he slowly thrust into her. She could feel the heat of his body against her ass with every slow agonizing roll of his hips. The build up inside her was going to cause her to cry out. Biting the pad of John’s hand, she pushed back, wanting him to go faster, wanting him to pound into her, while at the same time understanding how quiet they had to be. He continued to slide in and out of her at an excruciatingly slow pace.

Dropping his hand from her mouth, and holding her body tightly against his, John whispered in her ear, “I’m going to make you come with Roman two feet away.”

Marlena’s head fell back against John’s chest, and she whispered, barely audible, “Please.”

John had been listening to Marlena’s soft moan, and pants for nearly ten minutes. Sounds that were so familiar to him, his body was responding before he was even fully awake. Blood surged to his cock when she whispered, “John, I can’t be found in here with you…”

He watched her body writhe, and then she slid back, pushing her ass against his burgeoning cock. How was he supposed to keep his hands off of her delectable body, when nearly every night she lived out her fantasies in her sleep? Her face rolled back towards him, and her eyes opened, half-lidded, staring into his soul, while she whispered, “Please.”

He couldn’t tell if she was awake or if she were still asleep, but he nearly growled with desire as he told her in a strained voice, “Doc, I can’t.”

Still she pushed her ass against his cock, creating the most pleasurable friction. In a breathy voice she said, “Roman will hear us.”

John’s cock surged, and he groaned, rubbing his face in Marlena’s neck. He moaned, “What the fuck are you dreaming about, baby?” His arm tightened around her waist, as he ground himself against her soft ass. “Oh, fuck…”

John let go of her, and rolled away quickly, dragging deep gasping breaths of air into his lungs.

Marlena’s eyes opened again, and she keened when she realized where she was. Her center throbbed painfully, and her pupils were so blown her eyes looked nearly black. “Oh, G-d!” she cried. “Oh, G-d!”

Side by side they lay there, listening to the other, wishing they had the privacy to reach for each other.

John finally whispered harshly, “What were you dreaming?”

“I can’t talk about this, John. I can’t…I—it almost hurts! I ache so much!” she sobbed.

The recorders were picking up the desperation in every single one of her words, but John couldn’t do anything about it. His cock was so engorged it was bordering on painful. His focus was shot. His sense of right and wrong was gone. Marlena stared at him with wide eyes. Eyes that were begging him to stop fighting what was happening, and he wanted so badly to give her what she wanted…but he couldn’t. He couldn’t.

“Marlena,” he whispered. “We can’t…I can’t make love to you. Not with the cameras.”

“John, please,” she begged, reaching for him. “Please. Something…I need…” Marlena shifted her body closer, “John!”

How could he refuse her? He pulled the blanket higher, making sure to hide as much of their bodies as possible, and he rolled towards her, wrapping his arm around her hips. Pulling her closer, he whispered, “C’mere, baby.” His hand dipped, slipping under the edge of her soft cotton tank top. Marlena’s hips thrust forward jerkily, trying to get his hand closer to her swollen and aching center. “Shhh,” John cooed softly, as if he were soothing a baby. “Shhhh, Doc, I’ve got you…”

His hand reached forward, slipping under the waistband of her soft terry cloth shorts. Marlena tried to buck into his hand, but he bit her ear, and she stilled. Desperation laced her voice as she whispered, “Please?”

“There are cameras, and recording devices,” he said softly. “We can’t forget that.”

Tipping her face up to his, she told him, “I don’t care.”

“I do, Doc. I do…for you.” His hand cupped her naked mound, squeezing her soft flesh, and he nearly came in his shorts at the sound that emanated from her throat. “Fuck…fuck…” John said in a low groan. His finger slid along her slit, and he asked her, “Tell me about your dream.”

Marlena felt the heat rise to her cheeks thinking about it. It wasn’t the fact that John had cornered her in her pantry, or the fact that he had made love to her there. It was the fact that she’d wanted it, even with Roman right outside the door. It was something she’d never do, but in a dream…in her dream the idea that she might get caught had turned her on to the point that she’d woken up feeling crazed. She still felt it. “You—you cornered me in my pantry…in the kitchen.”

His finger nudged her clit. “The pantry?” he whispered. “Probably the only room in that house where I haven’t made love to you.”

She sighed, rubbing her bottom over his cock. John bit her neck roughly, and she felt her orgasm building. “I—Roman was in the kitchen, but you’d…ahhh, John…”

He flicked her clit roughly, whispering, “Marlena, tell me.”

The command in his voice tone caused her pussy to flutter wildly. “Roman was in the kitchen, talking to Bo. It was Christmas…oh, G-d, John!” Using the pads of three fingers, he started rubbing over her clit with more force.

John’s heated breath wafted over her ear, and he asked her roughly, “You liked it? The idea that I could make love to you in secret, with Roman nearby. It turned you on?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “Oh…yes…”

“You always were a little dirty, baby. I fucking loved it…I still fucking love it,” he groaned. “I knew what you liked…I still know what you like.”

His forefinger and his thumb pinched her clit, pulling it, and Marlena’s mouth opened as if to scream. John leaned over her, kissing her, absorbing every single sound she emitted into his soul. Her hips pressed against his cock even harder, and John’s vision went black for a moment. Pleasure unlike anything he could remember washed over him, and his mouth nearly devoured Marlena’s. Fuck the cameras. Fuck trying to hide what they were doing. There was no hiding.

Marlena turned towards him, never breaking the connection between their lips. Her hand rubbed over his cock, pushing hard, squeezing him. Within moments he was grunting into the recesses of her mouth, while coming in his shorts like a schoolboy. 

Chapter 48

Nuketepipi, French Polynesia

[This chapter had a co-author, @RachieQ because she is an amazing writer. I asked for assistance. She willingly obliged.]

**Trigger warning for sexual assault**

Anthony sat in the black leather chair, a bank of screens in front of him. He had been watching John and Marlena in their gilded cage for days. He felt like he was stalking prey and his blood sizzled with excitement. Maybe it was the idea of hurting John Black in a way that could never be undone. Maybe it was the thought of being able to sink his dick into the woman John loved, knowing there was nothing John could do to stop him. Anthony watched the beautiful Marlena Brady and thought about all the ways he could hurt her, and he could feel his body start to respond in anticipation.

For Anthony, it wasn’t about the sex. The sex would be nice, sex always was, but there was a rush that came with power. Having the ability to hold someone down, to take what he wanted, to cause them pain; that was something that always got his blood pumping. Wiping that smug expression off of Marlena’s face would be an added bonus.  Breaking her, seeing tears rolling down her pretty cheeks as she struggled and fought him… knowing that it was no use and he would take what he wanted when all was said and done.  That was power.  That was the turn-on. Knowing he was hurting the thing John loved most, even better. The sex would be secondary. 

All he needed was the right moment, and staring at the monitors with a sadistic grin, he realized that the moment had just arrived. He could hear John tell Marlena he was going to shower, and Marlena responded, “Ok, I think I’m going to spend some time in the sauna.”

The two of them had been keeping their distance since their almost-sex three days earlier. Anthony had thought that night that Stefano would tell him the plan was unnecessary. The deed was done. But Marlena and John had, once again, refrained from the actual physical act, and Stefano, for some damned reason, was determined to get that on video.  Anthony knew his boss was using him, but his hatred for John ran so deep, he didn’t even mind it.  He would get to have his fun and Stefano would probably get his precious video in the fall-out.  Anthony didn’t even care if the old man got what he wanted or not.  He didn’t even care why he wanted it. All he cared about was that he had permission to do his sadistic worst.  Whether it worked out in DiMera’s favor was of no consequence to him.

But, he realized, if he was going to do it, he had to act fast. Get in, and get out before John knew what was happening.

Anthony didn’t realize that as he was leaving the room, he was being watched. Waiting until Anthony had swaggered around the corner, Mason slipped inside the room, closing the door softly behind him, and he sat down, watching the monitors with avid interest. Stefano had Anthony up to something, and Mason knew it was somehow related to John and Marlena. He shouldn’t care. It wasn’t his job to care, and yet, he’d been uneasy for days. 

He refused to allow himself to think much further than the fact that he couldn’t condone hurting innocent people. He wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on the little boy named Giovanni that called him Papi. He wouldn’t allow himself to think about the gangly teen, who cried, “Papi!Ricordati di me! Sono io, Papi! Sono io! [Papi! Remember me! It’s me, Papi! It’s me!]” None of that mattered. His mind was playing tricks on him. He was getting older. Mason conjured every excuse possible, rather than accept what was becoming more and more obvious. He was connected to John. They had a past, and with the memories that were surfacing, came emotions that Mason had no idea what to do with. The strongest, most overpowering of all of them, was the need to protect. Protect John.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Marlena sat in the sauna, with her head resting on the wooden wall behind her. She and John had barely touched since the night of her dream. She felt his eyes on her in a near constant motion. He watched her swim, he watched her fork on its path to her mouth, he watched the water stream down her body as she exited the pool. She could feel it, and yet, the only time he had touched her was in the dark of the night. Even though he fell asleep on the opposite side of the bed, somehow in the night their bodies would gravitate towards each other and they would wake tangled together. 

She knew John was trying to protect her, but what they’d done the other night was already caught on video. Marlena knew that out of respect for Roman and Rebecca, they should continue to fight their attraction, but they had been together for nearly two months by her estimation. They were already in love when Stefano had devised his plan. How could they continue to fight it? Two years before, before John left for Italy, they had given in. They had wanted to give in every day since they’d reunited in Baliceaux. Even without making love, Stefano had enough footage of longing looks, and intimate conversations. He had voice recordings from their bathroom encounters. Had they made love?  No, not in the typical understanding of the word, but in Marlena’s mind, they had. From the moment John’s tongue had lapped over her clit, and from the moment her mouth had welcomed his length inside, they had made love. 

Marlena jumped when she felt the tip of John’s finger trace over the swell of her breasts. Without opening her eyes, she whispered, “I thought you said we couldn’t do this?”

Anthony stared down at Marlena with a vicious sneer. She might be beautiful, she might give off the air of thinking she was better than everyone else, but in truth, she was nothing more than just another fucking whore. He reached forward, pulling at where her towel was tucked in at her breasts. Shocked at the roughness of his touch, Marlena gasped, opening her eyes wide.  Immediately, he was on her, his thighs straddling hers, his weight pushing her against the wall of the sauna. His hand covered her mouth, as her scream caught in her throat, and he stared down at her with a wide, malicious grin. “Where’s John now, bitch?”  He demanded, his Italian accent thick and glottal. “I’ll be done with you before he even finishes his shower.”

Pulling her from the bench, he turned her roughly, his hand still over her mouth and his forearm holding her tight against him as he dragged the towel from her body. His cock was hard against the small of her back and he thrust his hips so that she could feel it and she would know what he was about to do to her.  

Marlena’s arms scrabbled to pull his hand free of her mouth, and her fingernails left burning trails in their wake. But her struggling only encouraged him, and made him even more determined. He could feel the blood surging in his cock. Reaching around her, his other hand roughly groped at her breasts. He pinched her skin hard, feeling a thrill as she squealed against the hand tight against her mouth, and he felt satisfaction knowing she would be bruised. She would be forced to see the evidence of what he’d done to her long after it was over.

He took her nipple between his fingers and tweaked it hard before pulling it and he was rewarded by the wetness of her tears melting into the skin of his fingers.

“I can see why a man would want to fuck you,” Anthony murmured against her ear in a low, sadistic tone.  Then, without warning, he pushed her forward, slamming her body against the wall.  “You have a body most men would pay to fuck,” he told her with a covetous grin.  “But I’m not going to pay, baby.  I’m gonna just take what I want.  I’m gonna sample the wares Johnny boy’s been helping himself to.  Once I get through with you, you’ll be used goods.  He probably won’t even want you any more.”  He snickered, groping at those fine-ass tits again as the blonde sobbed into his hand.

Marlena felt herself panicking. Memories of Kellam assaulted her. His hand over her mouth. Him slamming her onto the bed. This man had her wedged against the wall, his knees anchored behind hers, pushing them onto the wooden sauna seat.  Summoning what seemed like almost superhuman strength, she worked one leg out from where his held her tight and she kicked it up, aiming for his most vulnerable area. At the same time, she bowed her back, attempting to break free of Anthony’s hold.   But his grip on her was viciously tight, his fingernails digging into her cheek and the soft roundness of her breast and her efforts were all in vain.  

Rather than freeing herself, she only seemed to have strengthened his resolve.  He seemed encouraged by her struggles. He seemed to be enjoying it. Marlena heard him laugh in her ear, the sound mocking and derisive  “Yeah, that’s it.  Fucking fight me, bitch. Fight me! I want you to. It will make what I’m about to do to you feel so much better.”

He took his hand away from her mouth this time and pushed her forward again, slamming her head against the wall so hard that he knew she would be dazed.  “C’mon bitch.  Don’t let me down now.  Show me what you’re made of!”

With a burst of fear and strength that came from nowhere, Marlena took the advantage given when he moved his hand away from her and she brought her own arm up, batting his away and turning, lashing out at him with her hands, one catching him across the face, drawing a scarlet line that welled with blood across his cheek.  

Anthony roared with pain and excitement and backhanded her hard across the face, so that she collapsed onto the seat, her head spinning.  And then he was on top of her, trying hard to capture her wrists as she struggled with him, all of her limbs frantically thrashing as he physically pinned her against the wooden seat, the thin slats digging into the tender skin of her back.

“That’s better!” Anthony chuckled, the sound chilling and maniacal.  One of his hands was locked around her wrists, held above her head.  His muscular body was heavy on hers and she could feel his erect penis digging into her groin as he dry humped her.   “Fuck, I’m gonna enjoy this,” he leaned over and bit her jaw, making her cry out in pain.  And then his knees were on her thighs, the weight of him making her hyperventilate with panic and he was fumbling with the button and fly of his jeans.

She tried to think, tried to figure out what to do, but she couldn’t. She wanted to fight him, but fear, panic, and old memories were taking over her mind. And fighting hadn’t done any good.  Not last time and not now.  What else could she do?  Marlena felt herself start to drift away. It was as if she stood outside of her own body watching someone destroy it, and she was powerless to stop it. She no longer felt anything. Anthony’s words become nothing more than a hollow echo in her mind, sounding further and further away with every assault on her body. Was it even her body? Was she even there? In desperation her mind cried out, “John!”

In the shower, John heard Marlena’s scream inside his head as if she stood in front of him. Shocked by the force of it, he fell back against the glass door, casting him onto the floor. Scrambling to his feet, John roughly ran his fingers through his hair. Disoriented he turned in a circle, and then ended up staring at the door to the sauna. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his gut, coursing through his veins. John exited the shower and ran for the sauna door. 

Reaching for it, he pulled, tugging, trying to get it open but something was holding it closed from the inside. For a split-second, he was frozen on the spot.  And then he spun and ran.

He sprinted out of the cottage, rounding the corner, and pushed open the outside door of the sauna so hard that the handle broke as it hit the inside wall.  John didn’t think as he exploded into the darkened, steamy room. He couldn’t think. There was no time to plan. One moment he saw Marlena’s naked body under Anthony’s, his pants around his knees while he was trying to force her legs apart, and the next John was pounding his face repeatedly with his fist. The only sound he would be able to recall later was the dull crunch of Anthony’s bone under the crushing blows of his arm.

Marlena scrambled into the corner, her towel barely covering her as tears streamed down her face. She watched the whole scene as an out of body experience, unable to tell John to stop. Unable to speak…unable to scream. She could still feel Anthony’s fingers digging into her sex. Her face still smarted and ached from the pressure of his hand.

After opening the gate, Mason was halfway across the lawn, when he heard John’s grunts, and the wet slap of the sound of blood. He entered the sauna, roaring, “Stop! John!”

But John didn’t hear him. He heard nothing, and he couldn’t stop. He was full of rage and his mind was crying out over and over again for him to kill the man who had dared to touch Marlena.  To hurt her. John would fucking kill him, and have no remorse for it.

Mason reached out, dragging John’s naked body off of Anthony. “Non più! Giovanni! Non più! [No more! Giovanni! No more!]”

John stared at him blankly for a moment, before staring down at Anthony’s beaten and bloody face.

“Take Marlena. Go,” Mason told him in a softer tone waving his hand in the direction of where Marlena was curled up, sobbing.. “Pick her up, and take her to bed. Take care of her. I’ll handle this.”

Without another word, John turned, as if following Mason’s directions were second nature. One glance at her and he forgot his need to pound Anthony into a pulp.  Marlena was his first, his only priority.  He neared her slowly, approaching as if she were the most fragile piece of glass. Kneeling before her but being careful not to touch her until she let him know she was okay with that, he whispered, “Doc…baby, I got you. I got you.”

Marlena fell into him with a choked sob, suddenly finding her voice. Her arms wrapped around his shoulder, and her face buried in his neck, she cried hot tears over his still damp skin. John lifted her into his arms, covering her the best he could with the towel and stepping over Anthony he made his way to the inside door.  Ignoring everything but Marlena, he

jerked the metal bar from the door handle. He never looked back when he entered the cottage, because he knew if he did, he would go back to finish what he’d started. He would kill Anthony, and never feel an ounce of regret.  Damn, he’d feel proud for putting an animal like that out of his misery.

Within moments of John exiting the sauna, Mason had dragged Anthony’s prone body outside of the gate. It didn’t surprise him at all to look up, and find Stefano watching him with bright, amused eyes. In anger, Mason roared, “You fucking sent him in there! Why?”

“You should already know the answer to that,” Stefano replied with a contemptuous smile. “I have a goal, one that cannot be attained if certain pieces do not fall into place. It is not for you to understand my motives.”

Anthony’s eyes opened, staring up at Stefano. He couldn’t speak. His eyes drifted over to where Mason stood over him. Without a word, Mason pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans. In panic, Anthony looked over again at Stefano, his eyes wide with awareness, but the man made no move to stop what Mason was about to do.

Mason cocked his gun, aimed at Anthony’s forehead, and fired one shot. Anthony barely had time to realize as he looked into Stefano’s cold, black eyes, that the whole thing was a set up. He was never meant to survive this last job.

Chapter 49

Nukutepipi, French Polynesia

**Trigger Warning – Aftermath of sexual assault**

Hot tears scorched a path along John’s skin, as he carried Marlena into the bathroom. She clung to him tightly, sobbing into his neck. Every cry that escaped her shook their bodies in tandem. The sound of her cries tore at his heart, and the guilt he felt was overwhelming. He should have been with her. He should have asked her to wait. Something. Anything, to prevent this. John didn’t stop to sit her down or look over her. He took her straight into the shower, setting her gingerly on her feet. A quick glance over her body made him sick. She was covered in welts, and scrapes, and deep, dark marks that would eventually be bruises. 

John heard the faint sound of a gunshot, and scanned over Marlena’s face to see if she had as well; however, she simply stood there, shaking, leaning her full weight against him. She was lost in the horror of what had just been done to her. John was relieved that she hadn’t heard, because he was certain that Mason had just ended Anthony’s life. Marlena would somehow take the guilt of Anthony’s death upon herself, and John would never want that. There was a sense of rightness in Anthony’s death.

John reached over carefully to adjust the water temperature, making sure that he didn’t startle her. Water fell over their bodies like rain, and he held her close, allowing her to continue crying. 

“Make the water hotter,” she whispered.

He adjusted the temperature, feeling the heat beating against his skin.

“John, hotter…please,” she begged him. She had to get the feeling of Anthony’s hands off of her body. Nausea rolled over her, and she felt herself gag. She pleaded, “I need the water to be hotter!”

“No, Doc,” he told her softly. “Not hotter.”

She looked around the shower frantically, “I need to get him off of me!”

“We will,” John told her gently. He touched her bruised and swollen face carefully, feeling a mixture of rage and culpability swirling inside him like an eddy. In the light of the bathroom, his heart wrenched at the damage Anthony had done to her. In a matter of minutes, he done a lot of damage. John whispered with a choked sob, “We will, baby. But if the water were any hotter it would burn your skin.”

She looked up at him in a panic, “I don’t care!”

John reached for the loofah, and the pikake scented liquid soap. As he lathered it up, he said, “C’mere, Marlena. Let me take care of you.”

Her skin still burned from Anthony’s brutal touch. She could see the bruises on her breasts and her abdomen from the intentional pain he’d inflicted on her. She could still see the sadistic light in his eye when she’d attempted to fight him. Her memories of Kellam were mixing with her memories of Jake, and those were mixing with what Anthony had just attempted to do to her. Looking up at John with wide eyes, she whispered, “Why? I don’t understand.”

John knew what she was asking. He had his suspicions about the why. With his memories returning, he had pieced together enough of them to understand why Anthony held a long standing hatred for him. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to assume that Stefano had used Anthony’s hatred to his advantage. But John couldn’t tell Marlena that Stefano had intentionally sent Anthony after her. He was still trying to come to terms with it himself, but he’d seen the truth of it in Mason’s eyes.

Marlena watched the emotions play over John’s face, and she felt a roiling in her gut. She whispered, “Stefano sent him?”

He couldn’t deny it. He wouldn’t lie to her. Reluctantly, he replied, “I think so.”

Marlena reached her shaking hand out, intent on taking the loofah from him, and scrubbing her skin raw. Her mind grappled with what Stefano had done, using her as nothing more than a game piece. In his eyes that’s all she was, that’s all John was, and a part of herself took the blame for what had happened in the sauna. She felt she deserved the blame for becoming too comfortable…for becoming caged. She’d become an animal in a cage, forgetting who and what the real enemy was. 

John held the loofah back from her, refusing to allow her to have it, and she cried out, “John! Please! I have to get him off of me!”

His eyes said that he knew what she would do. Touching her cheek gently, he told her, “Let me take care of you, Marlena. Let me love you.”

Tears started to fall from her eyes again, as the panic she felt started to subside. John was with her. John would take care of her. She nodded her head slowly. In the entirety of her life, John was the one person that she knew without a shadow of a doubt, would always protect her. He would always care for her, even if he was angry, and wanted to scream, and she was driving him to frustration…John would never hurt her. 

Marlena’s body was covered in marks that would soon turn into bruises. Many of them were already forming, pinches and gouges across her breasts, and her abdomen. The imprint of fingers where they had dug into her soft sensitive flesh at her hips, but it was the damage across her back that had John holding back his gasp. Deep purple lines were forming, where the wood of the bench had pressed into her soft, sensitive skin. Anthony had obviously slammed her down bodily to try and force her into submission. 

“Aww, baby,” John murmured, slowly sliding the loofah across her battered skin. “Oh, Doc…” He felt the tears welling in his own eyes. He wouldn’t let her out of his sight again. He couldn’t. Stefano had gotten away with this because John and Marlena had gotten complacent. It wouldn’t happen again. His fingers trailed over her soft, damaged skin, and he could feel the tears welling up in his own eyes. “Fuck, Doc…this is all my fault. I should have stayed with you, or waited. I should have–” His voice cut off. What else could he say? He continued to wash her skin in soft, gentle strokes. “I’m so sorry, baby.” 

“It was just like before,” she said softly, placing her palm on his arm. “I tried to fight, but he was too strong…he liked it. He wanted me to fight him. He urged me to, and the sound of his voice was…excited.” Her voice quaked, and her muscles trembled, “He was so strong, and I felt like I left my body. I—I know what that is. I’m a psychiatrist for G-d’s sake. I know! But I—I couldn’t stop it from happening. I was outside my body, and…” Her voice trailed off, as if she could no longer string words together, and she stared up at John helplessly. The shaking and quivering in her muscles seemed to be getting worse. In a rush, her final thoughts fell from her lips in a gasp, “And then you were there, and I was watching you fight him, and yet…I wasn’t there at all.”

John choked on his emotion, saying, “I shouldn’t have left you alone. I should have told you to wait…I blame myself.” His fingers stroked over her jaw, trailing over her bruised cheek gently. “I love you so much.”

Safety, and warmth coursed through her body, as John held her, stroking his hands over her body to remove what was left of the soap. The scent of white jasmine surrounded her, and she closed her eyes, resting her face on John’s chest. The fall of water against her skin, and the sound of his breathing grounded her back inside her body. Her palm rested on his chest, and she whispered, “I love you, John. So much. I have always…always, always…loved you.”

The water was beginning to turn cooler, and John knew that Marlena could easily go into shock. He said softly, “Let’s get out of here, and get you dried off.”

John turned to open the shower door, and Marlena stared at the phoenix tattoo on his shoulder. She stared at the way the blue lines blurred at the edges, and traced across his skin. Softly, she stroked the tips of her fingers over it, and she said, “The first time I saw this…it scared me so much. Now…now, it’s a part of you.”

He took her hand gently, leading her out of the shower, and he reached for a towel. He knew her so well. He felt the tremble in her muscles, as he held her hand. If she needed a distraction, a way to take her mind off of the horror she’d just experienced, he could do that for her. He could be the safety net she needed as she was falling apart. Talking about his tattoo was a way for her to focus on something else. John replied carefully, “I’ve considered getting it removed. It’s not as if I don’t have the money.”

Marlena tried to imagine him without it, and found herself with an odd feeling. She couldn’t picture his shoulder, his body without it. “I think,” she said slowly. “It’s a part of you now. It’s more yours than Stefano’s. Stefano believes the phoenix represents himself, rising from the ashes…but it doesn’t. The phoenix belongs to you…more than it ever belonged to him. Because every single time he has tried to destroy you, you’ve survived.”

As he smoothed the towel over her body, and then proceeded to dry off himself, he thought about her words. She was right of course. Over the course of nearly ten years, how often had Stefano disrupted their lives? As far as John could remember, he’d been under Stefano’s influence in some way since he was barely seventeen years old. His whole life was stolen, at the whim of a mad man with a vendetta John had never fully understood. He knew it was centered around him, and Mason. Probably Seraphina, who John now knew was his mother.

John could remember the look of smugness and irony in Stefano’s eyes, when he mentioned that Mason was guarding Seraphina. The fact that Stefano had Mason unknowingly participate in holding his own sister hostage…John knew that when Mason remembered – and based on what he’d said in the sauna, it was only a matter of time before he did – it would likely destroy him.

“What are you thinking about,” she asked him softly. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re a million miles away.”

“In the sauna,” John said. “Mason…he was able to pull me back. I don’t even think he was aware…but he spoke Italian, and he–he called me Giovanni.”

Marlena stepped closer, resting her face on John’s chest, “I’ve been wondering if that wasn’t why Stefano has pulled him out of our orbit.”

John reached for her hand, and started walking towards the bedroom, “You suspected?”

“When we first arrived,” she said. “During lunch, I was able to watch him. I saw something.”

Pulling the dresser drawer open, John started to rummage through Marlena’s clothes, searching for something that would be gentle on her skin. Unhappy with the choices, he handed her one of his tank tops. “Here, Doc,” he said quietly. “This is soft.”

Marlena stood in a shaft of moonlight, and John’s chest constricted when she looked up at him. The light played in the shadows created by the curves of her body. Her rounded breasts were soft and full. Her nipples peaked. John looked away quickly, and dragged a pair of sweatpants from another drawer, pulling them on hastily. By the time he looked back over she had slipped the shirt over her head, and he immediately regretted giving it to her. The soft cotton barely reached the top of her thighs, and the sides were cut low, allowing him to see the gentle curve of her breast. 

Clearing his throat, John said, “Let’s get you into bed, Doc.”

Anxiety washed over her at the thought of another lonely night with John so close, but still emotionally so far away. Her voice shook, “You’ll hold me? I know we’ve been distant over the last few days, but I don’t think I could stand it tonight. Not after…”

He could hear the uncertainty in her hushed tones. Wanting to reassure her, his fingers threaded through hers, “Marlena, baby, you will be in my arms all night. I won’t let you go.”

Once they were in the bed, they lay in silence for a long time. Marlena scooted closer to him, sliding her leg over his. Her face rubbed along his shoulder, and John held her closer. She looked up at him. She needed him. She needed all of him, and she felt he was holding himself back. His guilt was building a wall between them. Her own feelings of self blame were a deluge she was fighting to hold back. Stroking her fingers across his chest, she slid her hand up, curving it around his neck,and she tipped his face, forcing him to look at her. His features were lined with guilt and shame. Staring into his eyes, she told him, “What happened tonight…it wasn’t your fault.”

“I knew Anthony hated me,” he replied in a choked voice. “I knew that Stefano was trying to push us together. Doc, he’s been trying…I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“John? John, we can’t do this.” Marlena thought about their situation. Everything about it was wrong. She knew that. John knew that. Stefano housed them in luxury, tricking their minds into believing they were safe. With Stefano they were never safe. Blaming herself, or allowing John to stay trapped in his own mind blaming himself would only create more distance between them. She threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, “Don’t pull away from me.”

He was. He knew what she was feeling, he could feel it too. “I should have been more watchful. Doc, you are the most precious thing in my life, and I was careless–”

“–No! No. Not careless, John. Never careless.” Marlena needed him to know, and maybe she needed herself to know it too, that the human mind in captivity can become tired. “I’m blaming myself for what Anthony did, and I can see it in your eyes…you’re taking responsibility.” She was silent for a few moments, before she told him, “In the study of kidnap victims, there are three stages: alarm, resistance, and exhaustion. Stefano has tried to create a false reality, but the fact remains, we are kidnap victims. I think…no, I know, that we’ve forgotten that at times. We’ve stopped being scared, and we’ve stopped looking for ways to escape…our minds are–”

“–Exhausted,” John finished. It all made sense what she was saying. Being constantly on guard, wondering what Stefano’s next move might be, and wondering if the food was drugged, or if Marlena might be snatched in the night. It was exhaustion, but John still felt that he bore the responsibility. “Anthony was out to get me. If it weren’t for me, Stefano wouldn’t have taken you to begin with–”

“–maybe, or maybe he would have. Roman is a part of this too.” She was quiet for a moment. Laying back down, she tucked her face into John’s shoulder, saying, “I feel a distance between us.”

He rolled towards her, snaking his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. John kissed her forehead, “He hurt you, and I feel like I should have been aware. All I want to do is protect and keep you safe. I wanted to kill him. If Mason hadn’t come in, I would have killed him.”

“I’m safe now. In your arms. That’s where I want to be, John. You would never, never, never, allow me to be hurt.” She kissed his neck, allowing her lips to leave a moist spot in their wake. Her body still shook, she could feel it deep inside herself. Rubbing her face against John’s shoulder, she took a deep breath, breathing him in. “I was blaming myself, but it’s not..it’s not my fault either. Everything that has happened to us over the last two months, all of it, is Stefano’s fault. Not mine…and not yours.”    

John’s hands stroked softly over her back, and Marlena arched into him. His fingers slipped inside the tank top tracing over the soft skin along her shoulder. “You’re right…but, I’m not letting you out of my sight, Doc. I will kill the next person who tries to–” His voice fell off, and he finally said in a choked voice, “I need you.”

“I need you.” Marlena rubbed her body along his, tangling their legs together. Her fingers traced over his abdomen, and she closed her eyes for several seconds, realizing how safe she felt with him. “I guess you’re stuck with me.”

Wanting to reassure her, he held her face in his palms, “Marlena, I promise…I swear to you, I will keep you safe.”

Tears sprang to her eyes, as she recalled what Anthony had done to her. She closed them quickly, trying to push the images away. Anthony’s violent, sadistic tendencies weren’t normal. Neither were Kellam Chandler’s or Jake Kostichek’s. She remembered the way John loved her. The way his lips would skim over her skin, the way his hands were able to caress her, and draw out every emotion within her. When she opened her eyes, she stared up at him, touching his jaw lightly, “I want you to make love to me.”

He’d watched the emotions play over her face, and he saw the determination in her eyes, as she stared up at him with her gold flecked hazel eyes. It was less than an hour after Anthony’s attack, and John looked down at her unsure. 

“Doc, I don’t think…I think…what happened tonight,” he started to say. He could still feel the tremble in her body. He wasn’t even sure she was aware of it. There were times when they were married where she would wake in the night having a nightmare about the time she was raped. Those memories would always be there. Just like what Anthony had attempted would always be there. She was vulnerable, incredibly vulnerable. John’s mind flashed the image of Marlena in the sauna with Anthony on top of her, and he felt helpless. It wasn’t just the cameras, either, it was their whole situation. John whispered, “The cameras…”

“I don’t care,” she said, with tears in her eyes. She reached her hand around his neck, sliding her fingers into his hair, “I don’t care. John, I feel like I’m breaking inside. I feel like even the slightest jar, and I will shatter into thousands of pieces…and the only thing that can save me, the only thing that can hold me together, is you.”

“Doc,” he said roughly. Her pain was palpable, almost as if he could feel it within himself. He rubbed his nose alongside hers, and he groaned. The feel of her skin alongside his, the warmth of her body, the softness… John kissed over her neck, and tugged her closer. He felt as if he couldn’t get close enough.

“I need you. I’m begging you, John… I need you,” Marlena said with a choked sob. “Please…love me…I’m falling apart inside…”

He rolled to face her, kissing her softly. Her mouth opened to him immediately, and her hands started pushing at the waistband of his sweatpants. He couldn’t refuse her. Refusing her would be condemning her to the hell of replaying the events in the sauna over and over in her head. She would expend all of her remaining energy trying to work out what she could have done differently, when in fact, maybe there was nothing they could have done differently, and even if there was…what would it matter now? He’d failed her. The guilt would never go, but he wouldn’t withhold what she was asking for. She needed him, and truthfully, he needed her too. He needed to silence the guilt and the questions echoing in his mind as much as she did.

His feet kicked the pants off, and John pulled the blanket higher, doing his best to shield their bodies from the cameras aimed at the bed. Even still, John knew that what they were about to do would not be hidden. All he could do was love her, and do his best to protect her modesty.

Marlena was done caring about her modesty, as she lifted herself up, and pulled the tank top over her head. Laying back down, she slid her thigh high over John’s hip, reveling in the feel of his warm, bare skin against hers. She moaned, tightening her fingers in his hair, and she tugged his mouth back to hers whispering, “I need you.”

John’s palm cupped her face gently, and his mouth gently sucked at her pillowy lips, as he murmured, “I love you, Marlena. G-d, how I love you.”

“I love you,” she whispered against his mouth. “I love you, John Black. I have always loved you.”

His hands worshiped her body, stroking every curve. His mouth licked and soothed every bruise across her breasts. He kissed the bruises on her face so gently she wept, and with every touch and every stroke, she felt her soul being mended. John’s large hands slid up her thigh, pulling her leg higher, and he found himself getting lost in her hazel eyes, lit up in the moonlight. He stared down at her, with her blonde hair spread out across the pillow, and he felt himself become nearly overwhelmed with emotion. He kissed her softly once more, and while staring into her very soul, he slid his length into her.

Marlena gasped softly, lost in his deep blue eyes, and she said, “Oh…oh, how I love you.” The feel of his skin sliding across hers, the drag of his body hair against her sensitive skin, all of it taking her on a sensual journey. She opened her mouth wider, allowing John deeper access with a groan.

John wrapped his arms around her gently, as the sheet fell lower, and he pulled her flush against him as he rolled his hips, pushing deeper into her moist center. Unable to stop himself, he bit her shoulder softly, and Marlena gasped. A high pitched mewling sound escaped her. His mouth found hers again, and his palm cupped her rounded bottom pulling her closer, as he slid in and out of her welcoming heat. 

There weren’t words to explain the connection he felt when he was buried deep inside her, and lost in the golden stare of her eyes. She was his, and he was hers. It would always be that way. It had always been that way. There would be no going back for either of them. 

He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him, and he cradled her body against his. Marlena wrapped her arms around his neck, and licked across the seam of his mouth, panting and gasping into the recesses of his mouth. John continued to slowly rock his hips, until Marlena whispered, “I’m close. Oh…John, I’m so close.”

His hands slid lower, gripping her hips, and he pushed deeper, making sure that with every thrust her clit rubbed through his pubic hair. Marlena moaned, grinding herself against him, lost in sensation. It was then that he realized they hadn’t used a condom. He stopped moving immediately, “Doc…I forgot a condom…”

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, rolling her hips, and pushing him deeper. “Please don’t stop.” 

He groaned, low in his throat, “Baby…” But she was illuminated with the glow of the moon. The shadows played over the peaks and valleys of her body. She was a fucking vision to behold. He knew he should stop, but his body was screaming for him to continue.

“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t stop. John, please.”

“Oh, baby,” he groaned, pulling out and pushing back inside her as deep as he could go. His breath washed over her ear, “Oh, Marlena…”

She lifted her body, bracing her palms against his chest, and she rolled her hips again. John pulled her down, turning her onto her back quickly, and he thrust into her once as deep as he could go. She felt her orgasm rushing towards her as he hit her cervix. Her head fell back, and she cried, “Yes…again…oh, G-d! Again!”

It was mere moments later that they both fell over the precipice together. It was the melding of two souls, and they both knew in that moment, that there was nothing and no one who would ever be able to keep them apart. They were inevitable. They were the missing halves to each other’s souls, and now that they had found their way back together, there would be no tearing them apart.

John rubbed his nose along Marlena’s soft skin at her neck, and he whispered, “I love you so much, Doc.”

“And I love you,” she whispered in reply. “I love you.”

Chapter 50

Marlena and Roman Brady Residence

Roman’s hand shook as he rewinded the cassette tape, and stared at the tape player with a mixture of heartbreak and rage. From the recording he just heard,  it was obvious that John and Marlena hadn’t had sex yet, but how long would that last? Any fool could hear it in their voices. What they wanted…what they were fighting against. They may not have touched each other during the incident he just listened to, but there was no denying they wanted to. Slowly, he reached out, and pressed play again. Maybe, it was to make sure he’d heard everything correctly. Maybe, it was to torture himself for a second time. Whatever the reason, he leaned back in the dining room chair, and he listened.

John: What were you thinking about?

Marlena: I was thinking about your hands on my body by the pool earlier.

John: Is that all?

Marlena: I was…I was imagining perhaps a little more.

John: Do you feel it?

Marlena: Feel what?

John: The tension. Coming off of me…coming off of you… It’s as if my whole body is shaking. From the inside out. A tremble in my muscles. Like a low hum. The urge to hold you. To simply reach for you, and cradle you against me. I want to hold your hand, and feed you strawberries. I want to feel free to do those things, but also I want to make love to you. Fuck, Doc, I want to sink into you, and wrap you in my arms…instead I sit here across from you fucking vibrating from the force needed to remain where I am. I want to touch you.

Marlena: I know…I know.

Roman cringed inside hearing the desperation and emotion in his wife’s voice. He could hear the lust and desire in John’s. The rage that he had been fighting to control ever since his encounter with Rebecca was threatening to break free. He remembered after he returned. They’d come back from Mexico. John was with Isabella, and Roman was eager to start his life over with Marlena. He’d tried to surprise her with strawberries and whipped cream, telling her to close her eyes. He remembered her soft pink tongue darting out, and then her gasp of surprise, quickly followed by hot streaming tears. She’d pushed his hand away, saying forcefully, no. He’d been confused, and Marlena…Marlena hadn’t even tried to explain. Roman had assumed that she was overwhelmed with his return, and memories of their love. Now he realized that during her time with John, they had lived as if John were Roman. The same memories, the same love songs…the same intimate details. Roman felt bile rise up in his gut, and it only got worse when he heard John say, 

John: Close your eyes, Marlena…Do you remember those nights when I would be gone on stakeouts? Those long nights when I would come home in the earliest hours of morning and crawl into bed beside you?

Marlena: I do. I used to intentionally go to sleep in my sexiest nightgowns.

John: I’d come home, tired, exhausted, and you’d roll towards me. You’d reach for me, and a soft groan would fall from your lips…and nothing mattered. Not the fact that I hadn’t slept, or the fact that you were asleep… It was just you and me…Can you feel my hands slowly working into your hair?

Marlena: Yes.

John: Your skin is like velvet under my fingers. Your lips are like fire.

Marlena: John!

John: Shhh, baby…the kids are asleep.

“What the fuck?” Roman roared in rage. He wanted to destroy everything around him. His fists clenched and unclenched as he listened. They weren’t having sex, but they might as well have been. He could only imagine the context. Where were they? Sitting across the table from each other? Lying in bed next to each other? John playing out some sick fucking fantasy while Marlena begged him to keep going! They might as well go ahead and make love, because it was more than obvious they were fighting a losing battle.

John: You’re fucking beautiful, Doc. Your hair all sleep tousled, and your nightgown sleeve falling off of your shoulder. I touch you…I slide my finger over your pussy just to see if you’re wet for me. Can you feel it?

Roman’s chest was tight, leaving him with a feeling of being unable to take a full, deep breath. In all of his time with Marlena, he had never…she had never seemed like this was the type of thing she might enjoy. It was obviously a fantasy. A role play of sorts. Even on a voice recording the tension was palpable. It filled the room around him, and it made him feel sick, and aroused. There was nothing but silence for a long moment, and Roman heard John speak in a low seductive tone, 

John: Open your legs for me, baby…Yeah that’s right. Touch yourself. Imagine the tip of my fingers sliding through those swollen folds.

Marlena: I want your hands on me. I want you to touch me.

John: I can’t…Close those beautiful hazel eyes, Doc. Imagine my fingers stroking you…Fucking gorgeous, baby. Yeah, just like that. Slowly circle your clit. Can you feel my hands on you?

Marlena: Yes…I want to see you.

John: Open your towel, Doc. I want you to watch you touch yourself. Imagine my tongue on you. Imagine my hands on your body. I want to watch you come…Fuck…yes. Just like that.

Marlena: I ache so much, John.

As much as he wanted to fight it, Roman felt his own body responding to their sexual tension. His jeans were growing uncomfortably tight, as he imagined Marlena allowing her towel to drop open, and even as he tried to avoid it, he could imagine John watching her. He could imagine John’s hand stroking over his engorged length, while telling her what to do. Giving her instruction to her own pleasure, while John took his own.

John: Have you ever made yourself climax…imagining me?”

Marlena: Yes.

John: What did you imagine?

Marlena: You–you came to my office…I…you…

John: What did I do, baby?

Marlena: You took off my panties, sliding them down my legs…You lifted my legs, spreading them wide, and hung them over the armrests of my office chair.

John: Did you make yourself come in your office?

Marlena: After you called me for my birthday…I was distraught, upset, lonely…aroused. I couldn’t think…The sound of your voice. Your laugh. I imagined that you knocked on my office door. That you were with me.

Roman considered what she’d just said in the long silence that followed. John had called her on her birthday? He smirked with derision, of course he had. He’d fucked her on Victor’s plane before he left Salem. Roman would have to be an idiot to think that John would be able to cut all contact with her for nearly three years. He could assume that John had called her at least twice.

Marlena: John…John…I’m close. I’m so close.

John: Look at me, Marlena.

Marlena: Oh, G-d! John!

John: Fuck! Doc!

Roman’s cock throbbed in his pants as he listened to the harsh breathing coming from the audio recording in the tape player. Marlena’s sounds were so familiar to him, and yet somehow these were slightly different. He rewinded the tape again, staring at the tape player for a long moment, and then he leaned forward and hit play again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Nukutepipi, French Polynesia

Stefano stared at the video of John and Marlena with a smug grin. As much as John had tried to protect her, he hadn’t been completely successful. He watched the sheet slide down her back, as John rolled onto his back. There was no way to hide what they were doing. Stefano rewound it, and turned off the audio, watching it through one more time. It was perfect. More than he could have hoped for. The way the moonlight lit up their bodies even in the night. Deciding to leave the footage unedited, while removing the audio, Stefano smiled to himself, “I have to wonder how Roman’s descent into madness will play out.”

Stefano watched Marlena’s body undulate underneath John, with a soft laugh to himself. He knew how he wanted Roman’s madness to play out. It would be the ultimate punishment for Shawn. It would make everything else Stefano had done seem childish in retrospect. All of it was a game of cat and mouse lasting years, until Stefano figured out exactly how he wanted it all to end. Once he’d put his plan into action with the kidnapping of Marlena, there was no turning back.

Roman had likely received his latest update on his wife. Afterall, the man needed reassurance that she was safe and taken care of. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Pier 14, Salem

Roman looked over in frustration when he heard Rebecca’s soft steps across the wooden pier. It frustrated him even more when he realized he’d smelled her perfume before he’d heard her. He briefly glanced over, before staring back at the river. This late in the evening, in the dead of night, the water reflected back nothing but blackness. It seemed fitting.

“I don’t need company,” he said roughly. “So you can go.”

“You weren’t at the pub,” Rebecca replied, ignoring the obvious hostility in Roman’s voice. Her eyes scanned over him. He was trying to act distant, as if he didn’t care. He was pushing her away, and she thought she knew why. “Your absence was noted.”

“I’m sure Abe, Bo, or Shane…hell, maybe even Kimmy, will be sure to come to my home tomorrow, and bitch me out over it. Thanks for the warning,” he grumbled. There was no way he could meet with everyone else involved in the search for his wife, when he was feeling as angry as he was. He loved Marlena, and as far as he knew, up to that point, she had slept with John, except for the night on Victor’s plane. But there was no denying the want and the desire he heard in her voice when he’d listened to the recording Stefano had sent him. There was no denying that they’d both pleasured themselves while they spoke about their fantasies. Facing his family and friends to discuss the search for his faithless wife after listening to her panting and moaning with John Black…no thanks.

“It wasn’t a warning,” she told Roman. “The last time you dropped out like this, it was because of a recording of John and Marlena.”

“Look, counselor, why don’t you go home. It’s late.” The last person he needed to be talking to in his state of mind was Rebecca. 

Rebecca’s voice became softer, less demanding, “Did you get another recording, Roman?”

Something about the sound of her voice pulled at him, and he sighed. Facing her, Roman rubbed his hands roughly over his face. “What do you want me to say, Rebecca? You already know that answer.”

She felt sorry for him. Roman was obviously destroyed about something, and as much as she knew he needed time to process whatever it was, she also knew she had a right to know. It was a fine line she walked, between not pushing Roman over the edge and getting the information she had a right to. “Not really. Not until you tell me, and I thought you had promised to stop hiding things from me if it pertains to John.”

Roman stepped forward quickly, getting so close she could smell his cologne. His eyes held a sadness she’d never seen before. Even though she never backed down, she realized she’d taken a step back. Intensity came off of him in waves.

“I don’t think you really want to know, Becky.”

“Why don’t you let me determine that for myself?” she said.

Roman stepped closer, into the shadows where Rebecca had backed up, and he asked her, “Do you want me to tell you about how your husband and my wife talked about their fantasies? Or the fact that even when I thought he was out of her life, he was still calling her on her birthday?” Getting even closer, he said, “I can tell you about how my wife rubbed her pussy in her fucking office after she hung up the phone. I can tell you how John told her to close her eyes and pretend his hands were on her.”

Rebecca took in a quick breath, as she asked, “Were they?”

“Is that all you care about?” Roman roared. “Does it matter? He wanted to touch her! She wanted him to! Has he actually fucked my wife yet? Is that what you want to know?”

Rebecca’s back hit the pilings, and she gasped softly, “Yes.”

He stepped back, leaving barely three inches between them, and he said, “No. No…as far as I could tell, they haven’t made love. But that didn’t stop him from telling her to– forget it.”

“I want to know.”

“He told her to open her towel and rub her clit,” Roman said gruffly. Rebecca tried to look unaffected, so Roman leaned closer, “He told her to pretend that his tongue was on her body.”

“So they haven’t made love?” she asked him.

Roman’s head fell, as he stared at his feet. He had no energy left. He didn’t even possess enough for his characteristic anger and outrage, especially when what he was feeling right then was guilt. “I don’t think so.”

Rebecca was fighting an internal battle with her own sense of culpability. What she’d done with Roman, several times over the course of that night, had very likely left her pregnant. She hadn’t even faced that yet. Finding out that John hadn’t crossed that line with Marlena, even after two months, was a surprise. She’d fully expected that he’d slept with Marlena by the end of their first week together. What did that say about her? What did that say about her faith in her husband? She’d slept with Roman within three weeks of arriving in Salem. 

She shouldn’t touch him, yet she found herself reaching for Roman’s hand. He looked so lost. “Roman?”

He shook his hand free, “Don’t.”

“What we did–”

“–I know what we did,” he told her. He knew what she was feeling because he was feeling it too. No matter how angry he was over Marlena and John talking through their mutual fantasies, what he and Rebecca had done was worse. He finally looked up to find Rebecca staring at him, and he said again, “I know what we did.”

Rebecca watched Roman step back, turn on his heel and walk away from her.

Chapter 51

Maison Blanche

Shane and Bo stood in the foyer of the large plantation house known as Maison Blanche. It seemed eerily quiet. The rustle of the wind through the sprawling oaks outside echoed through the empty halls. Vases were filled with wilting flowers, and there was a slightly stale smell to the air. The house was abandoned, but it was abandoned recently.

 As soon as Bo and Shane had entered the home, twenty-four well trained ISA agents spread out intent on clearing the property.

Bo glanced over at Shane, feeling an odd flutter in his gut, “It’s too quiet. Something is wrong. I’ve got this feeling…”

“Our contact should be here,” Shane replied.

“No one is here. The house is deserted,” Bo scoffed, walking towards the main living area. He couldn’t seem to shake the uneasiness that had settled in his belly. “What we need to be looking for is Stefano’s study…or a secret room. He seems to have an affinity for those.”

Walking toward the back of the room Bo traced the palms of his hands over the paneling, tapping and knocking as he went along. 

Agent Monroe came into the room, and said to Shane quietly, “Chief Donovan…we, um, we have a situation.” Agent Monroe glanced over warily at Bo, who continued to be distracted with finding a secret panel, and he tipped his head towards him.

For a moment their eyes met, and held before Shane turned to Bo saying, “You keep searching in here. I need to go with Agent Monroe and look over something.”

“Sure thing, Governor,” Bo replied carelessly. He had become almost obsessive in helping with the search for John and Marlena. They were family. John was his brother in every way that mattered. He was as close to Marlena as he was to Kimberly and Kayla. He’d known her since he was a young, angry teen, fencing microwave ovens, and she’d never judged him for it. She was the mother of his niece and nephew. It didn’t help that Roman’s recent behavior absolutely disgusted him.

Bo couldn’t imagine the fear and the helplessness Marlena felt waking up in the hands of Stefano DiMera in Baliceaux. She’d been gone nearly a month, on her own, when John was taken. There was probably a mixture of guilt and relief when he showed up. Bo couldn’t imagine how he would feel if he’d been in a similar situation with Hope. Maybe, that was what made him so angry at Roman. It was possible that was why he was so fixated on finding Marlena and John. He’d lost Hope. The love of his life was torn from his life, and he’d never been able to get over it. His love for Hope had ruined his relationship with Carly. His hand stopped moving across the paneling as he mumbled to himself, “I wonder what Marlena would think of that?”

It made no sense to Bo that his brother could so easily allow his emotions to be swayed by Stefano DiMera. Even knowing that Stefano was a master manipulator, Roman allowed himself to grow angrier, and more bitter by the day. He refused to even try to think about John and Marlena’s situation from any other angle than his own. Marlena had been gone for three months. John had been with her for two. Both of them were in a situation where they could trust absolutely no one but each other. Of course they were growing closer, they always did during times of crisis. That’s how they worked best, and Bo could understand why Roman would be afraid, but instead of placing blame and aiming his vitriol at Stefano, he was aiming it at his wife and his brother. Roman should be trying as hard as he could to find the mother of his children. Even if he didn’t care about her, even if they had some things they would need to work out, Roman should care about his children’s happiness. They’d already lost five years with her.

Bo watched Shawn D everyday, thinking about what his life would be like as he got older. His life without his mother. He sighed, rubbing his palms over his face. Even the barest hint that Hope might ever be alive, and Bo knew he would scorch the earth to get to her. Roman’s self pitying behavior only served to enrage him. 

Shane followed Agent Monroe up the wide staircase to the third floor, and down a long, dark hallway. Stefano’s love of dark woods and paneling made it seem even more ominous upstairs. Large statues and suits of armor lined the length of the hall, and Shane shook his head in disbelief. Stefano’s ideas of himself were so grandiose as to be laughable. Narcissism at its finest and most disturbed. 

“She’s in here,” Agent Monroe said, gesturing towards an open doorway. “I left Agent Faulkner with her, because I wasn’t sure what to do.”

Feeling slightly confused, and unsure what to expect, Shane followed the agent into the last room at the end of the hall. As soon as his eyes landed on the dark haired, green-eyed woman sitting on the end of the bed, he stopped dead in his tracks. She stared back at him with a mixture of curiosity and distrust.

Agent Monroe leaned close to him, saying quietly, “I wasn’t sure what to do. I know who she looks like…because of a case I worked back in ‘86, but she’s…supposed to be dead.”

“Have you questioned her?” Shane asked him, still unable to take his eyes off of the woman staring back at him.

“I’m right here, you know,” Hope told them, eying them with frustration. “I may not know much besides my name, but I’m not deaf.”

That voice. If he had doubted the truth of who she was, it was gone the instant she spoke. Not just the sound of her voice, but her mannerisms, her accent, her directness. It was Hope.

“She had a letter with her, Chief,” Agent Faulkner said.

“Celeste told me to give it directly to you,” Hope told him. “She said to leave it sealed until it was in your hands.”

Taking the letter that was handed to him, Shane noted his name written on the outside. He slid his finger under the flap, loosening the paper. The signature at the bottom of the letter: Celeste Perrault. He wanted to laugh out loud. The source inside the house, suddenly nowhere to be found. At least she’d left a letter.

Chief Donovan,

I’m sure you will understand that while I was willing to assist you for a time, I am unwilling to risk my life any further. The staff has been dismissed ahead of your arrival. I will be returning to Stefano. I have my reasons, and I will see them through.

The woman left behind, she bears a striking resemblance to the deceased Hope Brady. She is one and the same. She was bought by Stefano from Ernesto Toscano because she is the doppelgänger for one Princess Gina Von Amberg. He allowed Rolf to surgically implant a microchip into her nervous system in an attempt to transfer the memories of Princess Gina into her. The process was unsuccessful; however, the microchip has been used to suppress the rest of her memories.

She is Hope, but because of the microchip, she has no memories prior to her accident in 1991. I will meet you again. I can feel it. I’ve seen it.

                                                                                Celeste Perrault.

Shane looked up, staring at Hope. She was obviously uncomfortable. He watched as she pushed her hair behind her ear. She had heavy scarring over the right side of her face, skin that was reminiscent of burns that had healed improperly. Her jaw, her neck and her ear had suffered the most. It was consistent with the effects of acid on the skin. They’d all believed that Ernesto and Hope had perished in a vat of acid, a trick of Ernesto’s that went horribly wrong. It was another trick of Ernesto’s that they’d both seemingly survived. 

“I’m assuming you know me?” she asked him, growing impatient.

“I do,” Shane said carefully. “I know you very well.”

“Can I read the letter she left you?” Hope asked, holding her hand out towards him.

Shane handed it to her, and watched her as she read. One lone tear fell from her eye, and trailed over her cheek, before she looked up at him, asking, “Can we take it out? The microchip? Will I remember who I am then?”

“Hope,” Shane said, kneeling down in front of her. “I don’t want to make promises, but I will do everything in my power to make that happen. Your family has believed you were dead for the last four years. You have a husband…a son…”

Downstairs, in the hallway near the servants quarters, Bo smirked smugly, when the panel in the wall slid open revealing a dark room full of television monitors, and a large desk full of papers. He sat down in the large black leather chair, and began pulling files out of the drawers. He was going to find John and Marlena if it was the last thing he did. Just as he sat the last stack of papers on the table, he noticed a thin file off to the side with a note attached. A simple note in a feminine scrawl: I believe this is what you were looking for. 

Opening the file, there were two sheets of paper inside. One was a small section of a map of French Polynesia. A tiny island, remote in its location, was circled and labeled in the same feminine handwriting: Nukutepipi. The other was a black and white photo, obviously from a fax machine. It showed Marlena and John asleep. It was dated a few days earlier, and slightly grainy. John was wrapped around Marlena, as if he would protect her from every danger in the world. His face was buried in her hair, her face was buried in his chest. Bo felt emotion well up in his chest. It was obvious that they cared for each other. The photo would anger Roman, but at least it reaffirmed that they were both still alive. 

Bo shoved the papers back into the folder, and stood up quickly, bumping the table of monitors behind him. Glancing back, he saw Shane speaking with a woman. Was that Celeste Perrault? He’d never seen her. It could be. Her face was covered by a fall of dark hair. Shane placed his hand on her knee and continued to speak to her. There was no audio, at least none that Bo could see. The woman shook her head, and the gesture, small and minute, seemed so familiar. Turning to leave the room, Bo looked at the monitor one last time, and then the woman lifted her face. His heart stopped. He could feel it jar back to life, as a gasp left his open lips. 

“No,” he whispered. “No…” Hope was dead. He’d spent the last four years dreaming of her. He’d had failed relationship after failed relationship because he couldn’t let go of her memory. He had to say goodbye. But then he watched as she got angry about something, her eyes narrowing, her hand moving to settle on her hip, while she tossed her head back, and stared at Shane with fury. Her eyes flashed, and Bo knew…at least he was fairly certain he knew.

Shane could help but smirk at the righteous fury on Hope’s face, as she yelled, “Well, if he’s here, and he’s my husband, where is he?”

“I think, Hope, that we need to approach this carefully. Bo has thought you were dead for the last four years. Your son is eight years old now. We have to prepare them,” Shane said. “This is going to be quite the shock.”

“But he’s here? Now? At Maison Blanche?” she asked, feeling a mix of apprehension, and fear. She had a husband. She had a child. She had a whole life that was stolen from her by two madmen holding grudges against two men she didn’t even remember. 

Shane looked over at Agent Faulkner, “I need you to stay here with her while I go…and try to explain this to Bo–”

“–Shane?” Bo roared from the end of the hallway. “Where the fuck are you? Where is she?” All he needed was to see the woman he’d seen on the monitor downstairs. All he needed was to prove to himself that he really had lost his mind, because Hope was dead. But his mind whispered desperately, so was Marlena. He shouted again, “Shane! Governor!”

Sighing, Shane called, “We’re in the last room at the end of the ha–”

Bo burst into the room before Shane had even finished his sentence. He stood motionless, gripping the folder with John and Marlena’s location in his hand like a lifeline. Staring back at him were the most beautiful green eyes he’d ever known in his life. Eyes that he’d lost his soul in every time he made love to her. Eyes that visited him in his sleep. The same eyes that Shawn Douglas stared at him with. Bo struggled to break his eyes away from hers, and he said to Shane, “Is it her? Please, Shane, tell me it’s Hope.”

“We think so,” Shane said softly. “We think it is.” He handed Bo the letter left behind by Celeste.

Hope stared at the frazzled man in front of her reading through the letter in his hand, hoping, willing herself to have a memory. Something. Anything that would make her feel less lost, because she’d been lost for years. There was nothing. 

Bo approached her, kneeling down, so he was on her level, and he said tentatively, “Hey, Fancy Face.”

Hope stared at him, hearing the timbre of his voice as he spoke only to her, and then in her head she heard, “Pretty little rich kid who’s nothing but a pain.” She couldn’t remember his face, and as he reached for her hand, she couldn’t remember his touch, but his voice. There was something about his voice. That she remembered.

“Do you remember anything?” he asked her. His chest was tight, and he felt like there had to be something. Some recognition. Maybe it was wishful thinking. The letter did say her memories were being suppressed, but still Bo hoped for something. “Anything at all?”

She took a shuddering breath, and she said after a moment, “Your voice. I remember the sound of your voice.”

Bo smiled up at her, so overcome with joy he gave her his characteristic wide toothy grin. “That’s enough for me, Fancy Face. We’ll figure the rest out.”

“We will?”

“Sure,” Bo said standing up. “We always do.”

Still unsure, Hope stood up, following him as if it was instinct. She asked him, “We do?”

“We absolutely do,” he told her.

Chapter 52

Nukutepipi, French Polynesia

True to his word, John and Marlena were inseparable. Over their last few days, they hadn’t left each other’s side. John sat on the floor near the bathtub while she bathed telling her stories about Carrie or the twins. Over meals, they talked about his relationship with Diana, and how he had planned to marry her, until one day she was gone, leaving him in the night. Diana leaving so suddenly had led to Carrie acting out, and getting in some trouble. As John held Marlena in his arms at night he had talked about Yvette, and how she was able to pull Carrie back from her path of self destruction, and break through her anger at him, and at Diana. As they snuggled together in the hammock, John told Marlena about how Carrie’s decision to go live with Anna nearly broke his heart, but because he loved her so much, he knew he had to let her go. He had to give her the chance to live her life, and get the time with her mother that she’d never had. Marlena’s chest had ached with sadness when he talked about how lost he’d felt during that time, wishing she’d been there to help him.

Marlena talked about the time she spent with Stefano. John was surprised to learn that she hadn’t been in a coma the whole time. There was so much he didn’t know about Marlena’s life since he’d left Salem. She remembered Stefano teaching her to play chess, and she remembered walking around the garden at the monastery on San Cristobal. She remembered clearly now, seeing Roman during that time. When she woke from her coma, she recalled being confused, and desperate to get back to John, and when John had looked away from her, she’d touched his face softly, and she said, “You…when I woke I was desperate to get back to you.”

That was how their conversation had ended that morning, right before they were interrupted by Dante. They hadn’t seen Mason since the night of Marlena’s attack. John was almost certain they wouldn’t. If Stefano had audio in the sauna, which John suspected he did, then Stefano would have heard Mason speaking to John in Italian, and he would have heard Mason refer to him as Giovanni. John stared down at Marlena’s face as she took an afternoon nap. The cool trade wind breeze blew small strands of her hair across her cheeks, and the sway of the palm trees caused the shadows to play over soft skin. Resting his head near hers, he almost hummed with contentment, enjoying the sway of the hammock. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, baby,” John murmured softly, tracing his index finger across her forehead. They hadn’t made love since she’d been attacked. Both of them were dealing with their own demons. John thought about Rebecca, and what this would do to her. He’d treated her unfairly. He’d used her, if he was honest with himself. He’d used her in Salem to try to get over Marlena, and even after he’d broken things off with her…he’d used her again in Italy to try and move on after Marlena. John could only imagine how insecure Rebecca felt. He’d gone into the search for Marlena aware that he wouldn’t be returning. A part of him had known there was no way Stefano would allow him close enough to rescue Marlena. He’d gone anyway, and he’d left his wife behind. Rebecca was not naive. She’d been in Salem long enough to figure it all out. She’d been in Salem long enough for Stefano to have put forth some fairly damaging “clues”.

Marlena turned in John’s arms, sighing, and she looked up at him drowsily. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said softly. “The same thing I’ve been thinking.” 

John didn’t know how to respond or what to say, so he replied, “Yeah.”

“It’s going to hurt them…but I don’t regret it,” she told him. “I don’t regret it at all. John, what we did…it held me together when I felt myself falling apart. I could never regret that.”

John cleared his throat, “But we…we should try to refrain from doing it again. I feel so much guilt.”

“About Rebecca?” she asked him. Marlena knew that when John committed himself to Rebecca, he did so believing that he was going to be with her for the rest of their lives. John wasn’t a man who took promises or oaths lightly. He meant them. He’d meant it when he married her. He’d meant it when he married Isabella, and as much as she wished it weren’t true…he’d meant it when he married Rebecca.

“Don’t tell me you don’t feel guilty for what this will do to Roman,” John said. It was the whole reason he’d left Salem in the first place. So that Marlena wouldn’t hurt Roman.

“I do, but that’s different. I feel sadness for hurting Roman, because I know that what we did, what we’ve done in the past will hurt him greatly. Finding out that I made love to you here…and finding out about you and I making love the night of my anniversary will hurt him. I never want him to cause him pain, but John,” she said, tipping his face down to hers, “I don’t regret making love with you. I don’t regret either time with you. How could I? When I love you so.”

“It feels so unnatural to fight my instincts with you,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose alongside hers. He wanted to kiss her lips softly, and trail his fingers lightly along her bare shoulder. All of the things a lover would want to do with the person who held the other half of their soul. “I feel like I’ve been fighting myself since you walked out of the fog on Pier 29. Every decision, every action was in direct contradiction to what I really wanted.”

Marlena stared at him for a moment, remembering how distant he was when she returned to Salem. How he had pushed her away for months, and then walked away with Isabella as his bride. The stinging feeling of tears started in the corners of her eyes, and she looked away quickly, tucking her face down into John’s shoulder.

John watched the change in her features, open, warm, welcoming, and then suddenly she’d become shuttered. “Doc?” he asked her quietly.

What could she say? From the moment he’d left her at the riverside hostel, she hadn’t felt loved, or wanted. She’d felt like an inconvenience. As if she had intruded on the new family John had constructed. It was possible that’s why she’d felt so much empathy for Roman. It was quite a shock to the system to return after years, and find that life had carried on without you. 

Reaching his fingers under her chin, he tipped Marlena’s face up, “What are you thinking about? Tell me, Doc, because I see the sadness in your eyes.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said softly. “It was a long time ago.”

His fingers stroked her jaw, tracing a line along her cheek, “It does matter. If it hurts you, if it still hurts you…tell me.”

Marlena ran her fingers across the bare skin of his chest, sliding her fingers through his hair, “That night I returned to you on the pier, after we went back to my room at the hostel. I just…I don’t understand why you left me there. I think watching the door close on your back was the moment I realized everything had changed. Truly changed. I mean, I’d seen that the twins had grown, and I’d seen you with Isabella, so I knew that you cared for her…but when you left me alone that night, maybe that’s when I felt alone. More alone than I’d ever felt before.”

“Doc,” John said. “I don’t have a reason. Not really. My mind was a whirlwind. I had you in front of me, and Isabella, my family, my friends…all of them waiting back at the house. I dreamt of you so many times. I’d wake with the taste of you on my lips. Sometimes I would be at work, and smell your perfume in a room alone by myself. I was overwhelmed. I was confused. But most of all…I was scared.”

“Scared?”

“I went to bed that night, scared to death that when I woke up, it would all be a dream. I was scared that I would go to the hostel, and you would have never been there. How ridiculous was that?” he said. “But I think the thing I felt more than anything was hope, and fuck, Marlena, that scared me more than anything I’d ever felt in my life. It was the kind of hope that lit me up inside and left me feeling like I would burn down and destroy everything I’d built for just one more day with you.”

“So you pulled back?” she asked. “You pushed me away?” Part of her understood. The analytical psychiatrist was able to acknowledge that when encountering scenarios that caused fear or anxiety, backing away was a natural human response. Then there was the side of her that loved him, that needed him during a time when she felt so alone. That part of her didn’t understand at all. “I thought…I would have hoped you would have at least been able to talk to me. Help me understand what was happening, because I was so confused. All I wanted was to make my way back into your arms, and you…you left me behind.”

“Bo told me I was fucking insane. I went to see him in the hospital, and he was so angry when I told him what I’d done. I remember telling him I didn’t know what to do, and he looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. Maybe, I had lost my mind.” John was quiet for a moment, “Maybe I had. I couldn’t comprehend that you were back. On a surface level it seems so easy, but in my mind, G-d, Marlena, I was a mess. You were dead. If you weren’t, I had failed you, again. Don’t you see? I’d lost you to Orpheus in the house explosion. Then he taunts me with a video of you, very much alive. I was so close…so fucking close to having you back in my arms, and your plane crashes right before my eyes. Having you back, especially after Stefano had taunted me with you less than two years earlier…fuck, I thought it was another trick. I was scared. I’ll admit it. I was fucking scared, and I pushed you away.” Running his fingers over her cheek he said, “Bo tried to talk some sense into me, but baby…I don’t know what else to say. I don’t think I was even aware of how much I was hurting you. I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.”

“That’s when you came and took me to Bo? After you spoke with him?”

John felt his voice choke in his throat as he told her, “I had to tell Isabella, but I couldn’t…he was right, I couldn’t leave you down there in some seedy hotel by the river, because I couldn’t get my shit together,” John told her. “I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to leave you there the way I did. I need you to know that. I fucked up. I handled everything wrong. For months I handled everything wrong. I never wanted you to feel unloved, or unwanted, when you were the most loved, and wanted woman in Salem.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Stefano stared at Celeste with rage filled eyes, “You want to tell me what you’re doing here, Celeste?”

There was a certain amount of gratification she felt, watching Stefano’s unease, as she said, “Maison Blanche was compromised. Shane Donovan and Bo Brady arrived with several ISA agents. I was barely able to get out without being caught.”

Stefano stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over his tea table on the wide lanai, “And where is Hope?”

“I’m not sure, Stefano. As I said, I was barely able to avoid being caught,” Celeste told him.

“You left her?” he roared. “You left her behind?”

“What would you have me do?” she cried. “You had her room on the third floor, in the remotest corner of the house! It was too late. By the time I realized they were there, I was barely able to escape through the tunnels below the house.” For good measure, she allowed herself to shed some tears of regret. It always helped, because Stefano was so arrogant that he couldn’t believe he’d ever been tricked. He held his own intelligence in such high esteem he couldn’t even fathom it.

“Where is Rolf?” Stefano asked her.

“I’m not sure, Stefano,” Celeste replied, wiping at her tears carefully, so as not to smudge her makeup. “He left days before they came. He didn’t even tell me he was leaving.”

“If I find out he betrayed me,” Stefano said in a threatening manner. “I will ensure that he suffers.” He was quiet for a moment before he sat back down at the table, “Of course that means that this location is compromised. I wasn’t planning to move them so soon, and the Stockholm location isn’t ready yet.”

Celeste started to speak, “I thought Bart had already—”

“—Bart is an imbecile!” Stefano said in frustration. He was quiet for a long moment, trying to decide what to do when his plans had to be changed so quickly. He looked at Celeste finally saying, “Soneva Fushi…in the Maldives.”

Celeste smiled at him, “Orpheus’s Island?”

“I think it would be fitting for John and Marlena. Another stop before Stockholm,” Stefano said. “I won’t have time to outfit the island with cameras and recording devices, as I normally would, but Orpheus had enough of his own in place to suit my needs.”

“Who will be assisting with the move?” she asked.

“Dante and Mason,” Stefano told her. He thought about Mason, and his recent behaviors. Nothing serious, but definitely out of character. He would maintain eye contact a few seconds too long. He would hold his replies an extra second. “I need to track down Rolf. You will be going with me.”

“When will we be leaving?” Celeste asked. 

“Tonight. I will have Dante and Mason move them tonight. That will provide a surprise that will unsettle them nicely. John and Marlena have gotten rather too comfortable in their current accommodations. A trip to the Maldives will set them on edge. They will both recognize the location.” Stefano smiled cryptically, telling Celeste, “Besides, I have some photographs I need to deliver to them shortly.”

Celeste smiled at him, “At least I didn’t unpack my bag.”

Chapter 53

Caroline and Shawn Brady Residence

Sitting at the kitchen table, with his head in his hands, Shawn finally looked up at the people around him. Hope was asleep in Kayla’s old room, and he found himself still in a state of shock at the fact that she was alive. Although, he wasn’t sure he should be surprised. “It’s all me fault,” he said when his eyes locked with Caroline’s. “Everything that bastard has done to this family was because of my love for Seraphina.”

Caroline’s thumb stroked softly over the top of Shawn’s hand, and she said, “Your love for her was pure and true, Shawn Brady. Do you hear me? Everything that Stefano has done to this family was no fault of yours. That man is evil. Pure evil.”

Roman sat on the couch still trying to process that Hope was still alive. Although he shouldn’t be surprised. Stefano had faked his own death several times. He’d faked Roman’s death. He’d faked Marlena’s. Every single thing Stefano had done to the Brady’s was because Shawn had fallen in love with Seraphina, and apparently she had fallen in love with Shawn. And because of that, John existed, and he’d blown Roman’s life all to hell. Roman could only imagine the assault Stefano’s ego had taken when his wife fell for another man. Her kidnapper no less. 

Roman thought about everything Stefano had done, starting with taking him from his family in 1984, and as irrational as it was he placed much of his blame on John. He knew it was unfair. Part of his mind tried to remind him that John was a victim in all of it since his birth. But then, Roman would go home and listen to the recordings sent by Stefano. He’d listen to John and Marlena’s whispered words, John’s grunts, and her cries of passion for hours, and the rage would grow inside him. No matter what the DNA test said, no matter what his father said, John would never be his brother. The distrust that Stefano had built up in Roman over those seven years had done more damage than he would ever admit. He hated John Black almost as much as he hated Stefano DiMera.

He looked over when he heard Shane say to Bo, “I think tomorrow you need to take Hope over to University Hospital, and have some tests run.”

“Shane,” Bo said with a frustrated sigh. “I can’t just show up with her. Mrs. H is still working at the hospital. It would be too much for her, at her age, to suddenly see Hope.”

Abe cut in, “Bo’s right, Shane. We’ve got to let Alice Horton, and Jennifer know what’s going on first. Let Bo call Julie and Doug.”

Shane sighed softly, and Kimberly placed her hand on his arm, “Shane, the tests will be run, but you have to let Bo do this his way. I know you’re worried.”

“Damned right, I’m worried,” Shane said in exasperation. “If this Dr. Rolf did to her what the ISA suspects him of doing, it’s critical that the microchip be removed.”

Roman was bored. Glancing over at Rebecca, he got the feeling that she wasn’t feeling very well. Caroline had heated up some chowder earlier, and Rebecca had turned nearly green. Their eyes caught, and Rebecca looked away quickly. Suddenly she stood up, saying, “I’m really very tired. I’ll be at Victor’s, you know how to get a hold of me.”

Roman stood up as well, “I’ll walk you out.”

“My car’s parked right down the street, I’ll be fine,” Rebecca told him. She didn’t want to spend any amount of time alone with Roman. She was still trying to come to grips with the pregnancy she had been pretending didn’t exist. Caroline’s chowder had brought it all back. 

“It’s dark, and Pop would kill me if I didn’t,” Roman told her.

“That’d be right, Rebecca,” Shawn said loudly. “Roman will walk ye to yer car.”

Rebecca knew it would be pointless to argue, “Fine.” 

Roman found himself smirking on the way out the door. He had no idea that Carrie had been watching him for hours. She watched him follow Rebecca out of the house with a look of curiosity. Her dad had been weird around Rebecca for weeks. Plus every time he got angry or frustrated he called her Becky. Sometimes it seemed to make Rebecca angry, and other times it seemed to embarrass her. Carrie didn’t know what to make of it, but she was definitely intrigued.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Nukutepipi, French Polynesia

John was awake before the door to the cottage was even halfway open. He was out of bed, and standing in front of Marlena before Mason even stepped inside the cottage. The two men faced off, figuring out their next move. John felt like he was staring into the face of his father, the man who raised him from birth. Mason felt nothing but confusion. His mind told him to follow the orders as they had been laid out by Stefano, while his heart told him to comfort John, and none of it made sense. It only further frustrated him, and left him feeling angry.

Marlena stirred on the bed, “John?”

John didn’t take his eyes off of Mason. He didn’t trust anyone who worked for Stefano. The memories of his life with Mason before Stefano were not enough to soften him to the man standing in front of him. Mason was still under Stefano’s control, and John could remember, very clearly, what he was capable of under Stefano’s control. After what Anthony had done, John couldn’t afford to be nostalgic. After several seconds of silence, John asked him, “You’re moving us again?”

Handing John two sets of clothes, Mason roughly cleared his throat, “We leave in fifteen minutes. Dante and I will be by the gate.”

Marlena sat up, watching Mason leave, closing the door behind himself. “I wonder where they’re taking us this time?”

“I’m not sure, but it feels sudden. Mason seems…different. I’m not sure,” John said, sitting down beside her on the bed. Stroking his fingers across her jaw, he told her, “I won’t let you out of my sight, Doc. I promise.” He handed her the clothes Mason had dropped off, realizing that Stefano had finally provided them with proper attire. “Let’s get dressed.”

Marlena’s heart was racing, and her hands shook as she reached for the clothing John handed her. “I’m scared,” she whispered, running her fingertips over the fabric of a pair of jeans. Since Anthony’s attack she had been safe in John’s arms, locked in their enclosure. The only other face they had seen for days was Dante, and his visits were brief. Suddenly the idea of being moved, and going somewhere new was incredibly frightening.

John took her trembling hand in his, “I will not leave your side. I will not allow us to be separated. Do you hear me? I promise, baby. I promise.”

Marlena stared at him, and she knew he was telling her the truth. No matter what happened, he would protect her, or die trying.

Less than an hour later, John stood in front of Mason in the main airplane cabin, shielding Marlena from him and Dante. His face was red with fury as he roared, “You will not fucking touch her!”

Dante, standing slightly to the side, replied angrily, “You don’t make the rules here! If Stefano says you’re both sedated, then you’re both fucking sedated!”

John reached behind himself, allowing his fingers to trace over Marlena’s hip, finding comfort in feeling her behind him. The firm set of his jaw, and his narrow eyes said more than his words. “You touch her…you even try to get past me, and I will kill you.”

He felt Marlena’s hand grip his arm, attempting to get his attention, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted. He continued to stare at Dante, daring the man to even try to get past him. After Anthony’s attempted rape, John would never leave her vulnerable or unprotected. If they were both knocked out with some form of a sedative cocktail provided by Stefano’s mad Dr. Rolf, they were vulnerable. John wouldn’t be able to protect her.

Looking between the three men, Marlena could feel the tension rising. She felt like John being hurt would be the last thing she could possibly deal with. He wouldn’t hesitate to seriously harm Mason or Dante, possibly even hurting himself in the process, if he thought he was protecting her. She stepped around John with determination, looking directly into Mason’s deep blue eyes. She studied him for a moment, before she said softly, “If I allow you to sedate me—”

“—Doc, no!” John turned around quickly, grasping both of her arms in his hands. Understanding what she was doing, and why she was doing it, didn’t mean he would accept it as a viable option. If the two of them were so drugged that they couldn’t respond, she could be taken somewhere else, he could wake up and find her missing. He wouldn’t do it. He whispered desperately, his fingers gripping her shoulders more tightly for emphasis, “I won’t do that to you. I won’t allow you to be that vulnerable. If we’re both asleep—”

“—we won’t be…trust me,” she told him softly, caressing his face gently. Glancing around John, towards Mason, she said, “We’ll do it the way you did it when you dropped us in Gauley Valley. Sedate me…leave John alone. He won’t fight you. You know that!”

Mason was quiet for several seconds, deciding whether that might work. He had to admit, John was very protective. If Marlena was unable to defend herself, John would not fight, or attempt to escape.

Dante saw Mason’s indecision, and he cut in, “Stefano was very clear on sedating both of them, Mason.”

Mason’s mind was so confused. He knew what his orders were, and he couldn’t fully understand why he was even considering Marlena’s offer. He shouldn’t be. An order was an order. He had never questioned orders before. If someone refused, they would be incapacitated, and forced to comply. Mason glanced at John for a moment, and he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t fight him into compliance. In anger he turned to Dante, yelling, “We don’t have time for this, Dante! We’re wasting time, and we need to leave now!” Mason turned to focus his intense gaze on John, “I might be willing—”

“—Doc!” John whispered furtively to Marlena. “Doc, I need you to think about this. Really think about this! I don’t want you to feel—”

“—I won’t,” she said, placing her palm on his chest. She could feel the rapid staccato pace of his heart, and she knew he was scared for them…for her. “Not with you by my side. You will be awake. You will be with me, and I know that you would never, ever, ever, allow me to be hurt. I trust you. I love you.”

It was nearly a full minute of staring into Marlena’s eyes, before John held his hand out towards Mason without a backwards glance, “Give me the syringe. No one but me touches her, do you understand?”

Mason nodded once in acquiescence when John gave him a quick sideways glance, and then he held his hand out towards Dante in a silent request. Dante hesitated before handing the syringe to Mason. “So we’re allowing them to make the rules now?”

“The mission will be completed,” Mason told him, “but sometimes adjustments must be made.” He would allow himself to ponder why he’d even conceded later when he was alone. 

John took the needle from Mason’s palm without a single word. Tears filled his eyes as he looked at Marlena helplessly. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do, but she was right, even if she hadn’t said it aloud. This was the only way. She would be vulnerable if he was sedated and she wasn’t. She would be vulnerable if they were both drugged. John knew she was scared, he could read the truth of it in her eyes. Even while her fingers trembled with fear, and she traced across the skin of his forearm gently, she tried to look brave, but she was afraid.

“Doc,” John asked her, resting his forehead on hers. “Baby, are you sure?”

“I trust you,” she whispered. “I trust you, and I love you.”

Tears flowed freely from John’s eyes as he lifted his hand, and prepared the syringe. When he injected the sedative into Marlena’s neck, he actually choked on a sob he was trying to hold back. As he pulled the needle from her neck, he leaned forward, kissing the injection site softly. John watched as her eyes became drowsy, and her head rolled back. His strong arms held her gently when her knees collapsed. Marlena stared into John’s soul, and gasped, “I love you so.”

Mason couldn’t explain the myriad of emotions that coursed through him as he watched John sink onto the leather couch with Marlena’s body firmly wrapped in his embrace. He held her close, his face buried in her blonde hair, and Mason watched with curiosity, never fully understanding what love was, or how someone could feel it as deeply as John seemed to. He fell into a chair opposite them, and wondered if he ever knew someone who loved that much?

Luca watched as Giovanni fell onto the sandy ground outside of their home, clutching the small body of a swallow. The bird had flown into the window, and was likely beyond saving. The tiny body twitched in the boy’s hands, and Giovanni cried over it, looking up at Luca with a tear streaked face, “Perché le cose muoiono? [Why do things die?]”

“A volte, Giovanni, perdiamo le cose o le persone a noi più care, [Sometimes, Giovanni, we lose things or people we hold most dear]” Luca explained, smoothing his hand over the boys dark hair. “A volte muoiono anche gli innocenti tra noi. [Sometimes even the innocent among us die.]”

“É morta mia madre? [Did my mother die?]” Giovanni asked, still cradling the tiny bird in his hands. “È per questo che non è con noi? [Is that why she’s not with us?]”

Luca sank to the ground, reaching for the child he was raising as his son. He was so small and light in his arms, so fragile. Was Seraphina dead? He wasn’t sure. He’d likely never know. Luca whispered, “Il nome di tua madre era Seraphina. Era bellissima, con profondi occhi azzurri incastonati in un viso a forma di cuore. I suoi capelli erano color carbone e ti amava così tanto, Giovanni. Ti amava così tanto che ti ha per me in custodia. [Your mother’s name was Seraphina. She was beautiful, with deep blue eyes set in a heart shaped face. Her hair was the color of coal, and she loved you so much, Giovanni. She loved you so much, that she gave you to me for safekeeping.]”

John watched the color drain from Mason’s face. One moment he was staring at the wall ahead of him, and the next his breath was coming in short pants. Something was wrong, but he was fighting to hide it.

Mason stood up quickly, and walked towards the rear of the plane, entering the bathroom. He locked the door, and rested his head on it. For the first time since he woke up as Stefano’s mercenary, Mason cried. He cried over Seraphina, who he now realized was his sister. He cried over John, his son, and his nephew. He cried over the life he’d lost, as well as the memories. One moment. One clear moment was all he had, but in it he felt a lifetime of emotion. He felt as if he were losing his mind. All of the flashes of memories, all of the random moments where he would feel things for John…even speaking to him in Italian in the sauna, suddenly he knew there was more. He pounded his fist on the sink, “Fuck…fuck…”

He looked into his own eyes in the mirror. Who was he? He had a sinking feeling that whoever he was, he was not Mason. He had never been Mason.

Chapter 54

Fall 1995

University Hospital, Salem

The blurry black and white image on the screen took her breath away. In the dim light of the room, Rebecca could see the steady thump, thump, thump of the heartbeat. Until that moment, her child had been nothing more than abstract, a vague possibility, a dream. Yet, as she studied the image before her, watching the rapid beating of her baby’s heart, everything suddenly fell into place. The soft whooshing sound of a rapidly beating tiny heart filled the room, and she finally accepted the gift that she was carrying. The breath in her chest caught, and Rebecca’s heart swelled with an emotion she’d never felt before. Nothing else mattered. In the entirety of her life she’d never encountered or felt this type of love, and yet there it was consuming her like the brightest light of heaven. Whether the baby was John’s or Roman’s, it didn’t matter. She was a mother.

Dr. Bader’s voice broke through Rebecca’s reverie, “I’m going to take some measurements to determine the approximate date of conception. I know you said you hadn’t had your menstrual cycle for several months, so you couldn’t be sure. You believe that not having a period was stress related, because of the kidnapping?” 

Kidnapping? Rebecca wanted to laugh. Marlena had been kidnapped. John had walked willingly into Stefano’s outstretched hands. He’d made a choice, and left her deliberately, which to her analytical, law-based mind meant he’d abandoned her. John hadn’t been truthful, and he’d chosen to leave, knowing that there was a high likelihood that he would end up captured by Stefano. 

“It was,” Rebecca replied vaguely, still staring at the ultrasound screen as Dr. Bader measured the leg bones, the spine and the head diameter. The small life inside of her womb kicked, and moved on the screen. Her eyes started to sting with impending tears. It was small. Not developed enough to be John’s child. Even before Dr. Bader gave her a due date, Rebecca knew it was Roman’s baby. She expected to be upset, overwhelmed, possibly angry at the turn her life had taken, but she wasn’t.  She wasn’t at all. It complicated things, but she couldn’t regret what she and Roman had done; she just had to figure out how to tell him.

Dr. Bader left the exam room to allow Rebecca to get dressed. She took more tissue to wipe over the skin of her stomach, removing what was left of the gel, and she smiled to herself. She’d made a fine mess of her life, but as she settled her palm on her abdomen, she didn’t regret anything. From the day John walked into the EcoSystems office in Palermo, he had lied to her. He’d told her half-truths, he’d lied by omission, and he’d blatantly lied. When he said he loved her, how could he? When he’d made love to her, was imagining Marlena? Probably. Rebecca could allow herself to become angry and bitter. She was watching it happen with Roman like a sad evolution of man, but as her hand laid over the life growing within her, she felt nothing but happiness. A baby. She could figure the rest out. She could divorce John, there was no reason to carry on with her farce of a marriage, because if he hadn’t made love to Marlena yet, there was no denying that he would.

Briefly, she considered trying to pass the child off as John’s. It would be easy enough for a while. The thought left her mind almost as soon as it entered it. No, she would never be so weak or so desperate as to try and keep him that way. She was proud. She would exit her marriage with her head held high, and if Roman didn’t want to be involved, she would raise her baby alone. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Marlena and Roman Brady Residence

The door slammed shut behind Roman as he kicked it closed with the heel of his boot in frustration. In between finding Hope at Maison Blanche, and all of the family drama surrounding that, along with his work load, he was finding himself tapped for energy. He had nothing left. He felt on edge, and his lack of sleep was taking a toll. His nightmares were haunting him during his waking hours as well as having him screaming and covered in sweat during the night. Images of every kinky fantasy he’d ever had were being played out in his mind, but between John and Marlena. Stefano’s puzzles, and photos, the videos and the audio recordings; all of them were slowly eating away at his love for her, corrupting it, and turning it into something he couldn’t define. 

Did he hate his wife?  No.  He didn’t hate her, but he found himself sometimes thinking she was selfish. He would get waves of impotent rage where words like, slut, whore, and cunt crossed his mind, but then, as quickly as they came he would push them away, and tell himself that he loved Marlena. She was as much a victim as he was, and none of it was her fault. Except cheating with John on Victor’s airplane. Except getting pregnant with John’s child. Again, his mind would push down those negative thoughts, because none of it would have happened without Stefano’s interference in their lives.  

Who was he without Marlena? Prior to his relationship and his marriage to her, he’d wandered aimlessly through life. He felt like he was, all over again. It was possible that’s why he’d tried so hard to control her when he returned. Why he’d sought to control everything in his life, even Carrie, and John’s access to the twins. Prior to coming home to Salem all he’d survived on were memories. What were those memories worth if everything fell apart? Roman wanted to scream. He derived his identity from his success in his marriage, his job, and his family, but he hadn’t succeeded at any of it. His family preferred John over him, his wife preferred John…hell, even his children preferred John. 

“I need a fucking beer,” he said to himself, as he unzipped his jacket.

Roman was so confused he wasn’t sure what he felt. He couldn’t think about it. Any of it. And because the pain was so excruciating, thinking about Marlena and her kidnapping hadn’t been at the forefront of his mind. He couldn’t do it without feeling as if he would explode at any moment. So, he didn’t think about it at all, which continued to anger and agitate everyone involved in finding her. They could separate what was happening between her and John, what had happened between her and John, and focus on their love for them. Roman couldn’t. John might be his brother, but prior to his leaving Salem, Roman had barely tolerated him. As it stood then, he detested him, and he couldn’t even say for sure what he felt about Marlena.

He tossed his jacket onto the back of the couch, and arched his back, cracking his spine with a heavy sigh. Glancing over at the mantel his eyes landed on the antique wine glasses he’d bought when he’d first married Marlena. How many times had she and John sipped wine from those while thinking that John was him? The iridescent frosted glass taunted him from where it perched next to family photos. Roman looked away quickly, feeling the impulse to smash them. He bent over to untie his shoelaces, and kicked his boots carelessly towards the closet near the door. The tension in his muscles had him rolling his shoulders, and cracking his neck. All he wanted was a beer, or two, possibly three…and some sleep. He could eat the following day.

As he stood up, and started walking towards the kitchen his eyes landed on the dining room table. He averted them quickly. He would never again be able to look at that table, and not picture Rebecca spread over it as he pounded ruthlessly into her body. He could still feel the satin of her stockings under his palms. He could still feel the roundness of her breasts in his hands. In truth, it had been the best sex of his life, and every time he saw Rebecca, images and memories would assault him. Given the opportunity, Roman knew he would do it again. 

He was halfway across the room when he noticed, sitting on the walnut tabletop, a nondescript VCR tape with a note taped to it. Roman’s heart rate picked up at the same time as his mind flashed images of John making love to Marlena. Stefano and his fucking games were going to destroy him. He wasn’t sure he could take much more. He shook his head, thinking that he was becoming paranoid. Just because it was a videotape, didn’t mean it was a video of John and Marlena making love. It could be something else. Another clue, possibly another conversation, and yet somehow Roman knew it wasn’t. His fingers hovered over it for a second, and then he grasped it, staring at the note. His breath caught in his throat. One line, obviously another Shakespeare reference he didn’t understand, “I have heard it said, the fittest time to corrupt a man’s wife is when she’s fall’n out with her husband.”

That was when he knew for sure what was on the tape. With a calm he didn’t fully understand, Roman placed the video back down on the table gingerly, as though if he were rough with it, his whole life might explode. Maybe he was worried that he might explode. Looking down at it, he wondered if his life might shatter anyway, once he’d viewed what was on it, it would likely blow up everything he had built. Stefano didn’t send anything without a motive, and his intent was to destroy Roman. He knew that what was on that VCR tape would forever change his life, but maybe his life was already changed. From the moment Stefano took him, and from the moment John Black walked into Marlena’s life, it was irrevocably changed, and as much as Roman wished he could go back, he was instead stuck in a loop yearning for the past while knowing it was lost forever.

He didn’t have to watch the video. He didn’t have to put himself through whatever hell was on it. Roman snatched the media up in his hand and shoved his way through the kitchen door so forcefully it slammed against the wall leaving a dent in the drywall behind it. He was through the kitchen and in the garage in a matter of moments, and he stared at the garbage can for less than three seconds, before tossing it inside. Roman stared down at the video for a brief moment, before closing the lid on it and walking away.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Soneva Fushi, Maldives

The humidity was extreme, causing John to sweat from exertion. He’d been carrying Marlena for more than a mile, and while Dante and Mason had offered to help, he’d refused. He’d meant it on the plane when he stated that no one would touch her. They came to a stop before a rock face, and John instantly recognized the location. Sweat rolled from his hairline down the nape of his neck, and he adjusted his hold on her. Mason pulled a remote control from his pocket, and Dante sneered, as an opening appeared. John walked through the entrance in silence, knowing that Mason and Dante wouldn’t be following. Another cage, this one housing memories he and Marlena would both rather forget. The entrance closed behind him, leaving him and Marlena alone in the dark.

“Well, Doc,” John said, walking down the dark tunnel, “Stefano has us in another fucking cage, and I’m rather grateful that you’re not awake to see which one.”

It was familiar to him, but he’d never studied any of it in great detail. The last time John was there he’d been in a blind panic. He’d had one thing on his mind – finding his wife and bringing her home. After months of believing that she’d died in the explosion set by Orpheus in their home, John had been taunted and teased by a videotape which showed her very much alive. She’d been sitting on a white wrought iron bench in a blouse printed with hibiscus…a flower tucked behind her ear. Every aspect of that moment was permanently etched into his mind. John remembered being fascinated by the way the soft breeze blew strands of her blonde hair across her cheek. After Shane had confirmed that the video wasn’t a fake, John had spent weeks searching for his wife. He’d used everything available to him in searching for her, only to lose her again before he was even able to hold her in his arms. 

John reached the end of the hall, which opened into a bay of monitors on one side, all of them with active cameras. He stopped and studied them closely. There were only eight, and seven of them were in the common areas – main living area, hallways, and in what looked to be the backyard of the estate. There was one camera in a bedroom. He smirked, realizing that Stefano hadn’t updated anything, which meant that their rescue was looming, because if Stefano was scrambling to move them, that meant that Shane and the ISA were close to locating him and Marlena. 

He stared at the bedroom on the screen. John’s gut clenched when he realized that was probably the room Orpheus kept Marlena in. They would not be using that room. Glancing over the other screens, he noticed that nothing seemed to be updated by the looks of the house. He’d been correct when he assumed that Stefano moving them to Orpheus’s island was a hasty decision. 

John shifted Marlena’s weight in his arms again, and felt the burn and tremble in his muscles. He turned down the hallway to his left, which he knew exited into the jungle, and headed towards the main house. Stepping out the door John found himself in a different world. The first thing he noted was the cool breeze as it blew across his face. Then it was the heavy floral scents of jasmine and plumeria, followed by the sound of the kanbili, a bird John remembered from his last visit. The call of the kanbili started like a roar and ended with a series of coos. It was a memory that he closely associated with being in the Maldives. 

Exhausted, and needing to lay Marlena down, John’s steps quickened until he arrived at two heavy wooden doors. After fumbling with the doorknob, the doors opened into a room that transferred him back in time. He stared in awe. Nothing had changed except the dust cloths thrown over the furniture. Faded floral wallpaper, two large, pink, orb shaped vases stood on either side of the entryway, filled with dead plants, and a dark wooden upright piano stood against the back wall…everything exactly as John remembered. He wasn’t surprised that once he tugged the dust cloth off of the couch, he found himself staring down at a frosted pink, overstuffed piece of furniture with blood spatter across the front of it. 

With muscles that were trembling from exertion, John gently laid Marlena down on the couch. He lifted her legs, and sank into the soft cushions next to her, placing her feet gently in his lap. John’s eyes landed on the faded, bloodstained carpet near his feet. He remembered shooting Orpheus, and watching him bleed out on that carpet, while Olivia stared on in shock. He looked towards where Olivia had lain, with a gunshot wound to her shoulder. There was a blood stain there as well. John murmured, “I guess Stefano didn’t have time to clean up,” right before he fell asleep. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Marlena and Roman Brady Residence

Roman stepped out of the shower intent on one thing. While he’d been leaning with his palms against the shower wall, allowing the water to pound his back, he recalled a moment after John had left Salem. A moment when he’d attempted to wrap his arms around Marlena, and nuzzle her neck. She’d jumped as if she’d been surprised, and then she’d slowly tucked something into her lingerie drawer, and closed it away, turning into his arms with a smile. He hadn’t thought about that moment in years. The memory had come on suddenly, a persistent nagging of the mind. He had to know if anything was still there.

Water still dripped from his body as he hastily tucked the towel around his waist, and headed for the dresser. Roman wrenched Marlena’s lingerie drawer open, and started placing satin slips, sheer stockings, and lacy panties on top of the dresser. On the bottom of the drawer, face down, was one single photograph. Roman felt sick to his stomach. He felt rage trembling inside of his body, pushing to get free. Turning it over in his hand, he saw Marlena sitting on John’s lap wearing a fuzzy sweater. John held her in his arms wearing a much simpler brown plaid flannel. She stared into the camera. Her hazel eyes were alive with something Roman hadn’t seen in her since before he’d disappeared in 1984. John’s forehead was resting on the side of her face wearing a huge smile while he stared at her.

“Why the fuck does she have this here?” Roman felt his fingers tightening on the photograph. His mind roared, fucking faithless whore! He tried pushing it down, but it wouldn’t go. She’d kept this photo where she knew he wouldn’t look. He’d caught her looking at it, and tucking it away. How many times had she done that? How many times? While he was in the shower…while he was at work? How many times had she stared at that photo and wished for something else?

Suddenly all those weeks of fighting his emotions, weeks of anxiety, rage, sadness, and feeling betrayed…all of it came fulminating to the surface. He destroyed the photo. There was a sick sense of satisfaction that came from tearing the photo down the middle, forcefully separating Marlena from John. Seeing his wife so happy in another man’s arms was more than he could handle. Shredding John’s side of the photograph into small pieces didn’t bring him as much pleasure as his destruction of Marlena’s side of the photo. Those shiny, sparkling, hazel eyes were crushed under the heel of his foot as he twisted it into the carpet thinking about her lies and her treachery. By the time he was done there was nothing recognizable left of it. He turned his rage on the rest of the room. Marlena’s lingerie was ripped, her perfume, and her makeup was smashed. By the time Roman was finished, nothing of Marlena in that bedroom was untouched. Her clothing lay scattered, shredded on the floor of the closet, and even still, Roman felt rage bubbling just below the surface, as if he had only just begun.

Chapter 55

Marlena and Roman Brady Residence

He was on his sixth beer before he noticed the cut across his palm, and only then because it hurt when he tried to push his fingers through his hair. There was no way for him to try to understand the myriad of emotions coursing through his body. Roman would have argued a year earlier that loving someone and hating them at the same time was impossible. He stared at the videotape he’d pulled out of the garbage can in the garage with loathing. His eyes struggled to maintain focus, even as it sat on the coffee table taunting him.

Part of himself said to turn it over to Abe and Shane without watching it. He didn’t need to have those images permanently etched into his psyche, when he was already inundated with the visions from his nightmares. But, Stefano knew Roman better than he knew himself. He would watch it. There was no way he would be able to keep himself from watching it. For seven years Stefano had studied Roman. He’d destroyed Roman’s peace of mind, and he’d sowed his distrust of Marlena and his family. Inside his heart was a deep distrust of John that he would likely never get over, and he didn’t even fully understand why. 

Getting to his feet, Roman was unsteady as he walked to the VCR, sliding the video into the machine. His hair was disheveled, and he hadn’t even bothered to get fully dressed. Wearing only an unbuttoned pair of blue jeans, he sank back into the couch, he opened his seventh beer. 

The screen on the television was black for a moment, followed by static, and rolling, but eventually Roman’s worst fears were realized. He watched mesmerized as John led Marlena out of what he assumed was the bathroom. John had a towel around his waist, and Marlena was barely covered with her own towel. Had they fucking showered together? He could see that they were talking, but Stefano had conveniently removed the audio. Another trick to toy with his mind. John handed Marlena an oversized tank top, which she slipped over her head, and Roman felt himself start to get hard as he stared at the soft roundness of her breast that was exposed.

John’s arms wrapped around Marlena’s body, pulling her closer to him, and Roman stared transfixed as she braced herself, holding onto John’s arms as she slid her foot up his calf. Roman could feel it as if it were him. How many times had she done the same thing to him as they’d prepared to make love? There was a familiarity to John’s movements. This was obviously not the first time they’d been that close. He’d lived a life as her husband for nearly a full year before she disappeared. But this was different. Roman’s face darkened, and he felt his heart start pounding with rage. Watching her with John was incredibly painful. John and Marlena were smart. They knew they were being watched. Both of them had enough experience with Stefano to know, in that moment, that they were being recorded, and still they were pawing at each other as if they had no self-control. Marlena’s fingernails raked over John’s chest, and Roman watched as she kissed across the other man’s chest. Even without audio, he knew how she sounded.

“Fucking G-d damned slut!” Roman roared, throwing his beer bottle across the room, and watching it crash against the wall while amber liquid trickled over the flowery wallpaper. He fucking hated that wallpaper. He hated everything about his house. It had been rebuilt partially after the explosion caused by Orpheus, and almost every design choice had been made by John. The female touches had been added after Marlena returned, but Roman still hated them, because she’d done it with John. Because she’d intended to live her life with John.

He watched John kiss Marlena on the forehead, and lead her towards the bed. Roman sneered with vitriol, “My fucking brother…”

It was when Marlena arched into John, and rubbed her face against his shoulder that Roman finally had a clear view of her face. The moonlight lit her up like an angel. He watched his wife thread her fingers into another man’s hair, pulling his mouth to hers in desperation, and he watched as John sucked and licked a path along Marlena’s shoulder. He should have noticed the bruises on her face, but he didn’t. He should have noticed the bruises across her back, but he didn’t notice those either. Roman was so lost in his own feelings and his own emotions, that nothing else even registered in his mind, but, he could see the tears shining in Marlena’s eyes, and he stood up from the couch screaming, “Fucking whore! G-d damned fucking slut!”

In a fit of rage, Roman reached for the last remaining candlestick of the set Marlena had inherited from her grandmother. The other half of the pair had been broken by Carrie and Jessie three years earlier. It meant something to his wife. It was special. It was her last connection to a woman she idolized. His fist clenched around it, and without further thought, he slammed it against the edge of the console table behind the couch, watching it shatter with a sick sense of justice. 

But no amount of anger or rage, no amount of screaming would stop what he was watching on his television, because it was already done. Stefano had sent him the videotape to reinforce what his wife was capable of, to drive home the idea that if given the choice, she would never choose him. She’d choose John. Roman barely paid attention as Marlena stripped the tank top over her head, and he wouldn’t even remember how she looked as she orgasmed on John’s cock, with her mouth open in a silent cry of ecstasy. 

Roman’s rage had him disassociating. He saw everything he did after that as if he were outside of himself. One moment he stood in front of his couch, and the next he wasn’t. He allowed himself to play out every rage filled fantasy he’d had over the summer, and he watched with a vague feeling of righteousness as he smashed family photos against the edge of the mantle. He tore the frames to pieces, and he ripped photographs, tossing it all into the fireplace. It was with a sense of relief that he lit a match, and watched it all go up in flames, because it was all a lie. His whole life was a fucking lie.

His eyes landed on the wine glasses, until then completely untouched. For one brief instance he allowed himself to think about the day he and Marlena had bought them. So much in love, thinking that nothing would ever touch them. He lifted one and held it out in front of him.

“Do you like them?” Roman asked her softly. He’d been watching her from across the shop as she lifted a wine goblet towards the sunlight streaming through the window. The light reflecting off of it in a rainbow pattern against the far wall.

“They are beautiful,” she replied. She sat the goblet down with a gentle sigh. “But they’re so expensive.”

Roman leaned forward, kissing the side of her neck softly. “Not too expensive.”

Marlena turned quickly, “Roman, they are! They’re… extravagant.”

“Nothing is too extravagant for you,” Roman told her. “Besides, everytime we look at them, we’ll remember our love…and we’ll remember this trip.”

At one time he had considered himself the luckiest man in the world, married to the most beautiful woman in the world. His fingers clenched around the smooth stem of the glass, tighter and tighter until he felt it snap with satisfaction. Did Marlena ever love him? Maybe it had all been a figment of his imagination? Roman even found himself wondering at one point if it all weren’t just a dream? It was possible that he could be lying in his cell in the jungle of San Cristobal, and everything had simply been a creation of one man’s lonely mind. He wouldn’t remember crushing the iridescent wine glasses that had once meant so much to both of them. They were a fucking lie. The life he had built with Marlena was a lie. He tossed the broken goblet in the fire, and in a flash of movement, sudden and jarring, he smashed the other against the wall with his fist.

Turning back to look at the television all he could see was the furtive pumping of John’s hips as he pushed deeper and deeper into Marlena’s soft body. Intent on more destruction, he headed towards the buffet cabinet.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   

Soneva Fushi, Maldives

Marlena’s heart was racing, and her chest was constricting before she even opened her eyes. The scents that assaulted her, and the sounds of the surrounding forest transported her. The call of the kanbili brought with it feelings of helplessness, and loneliness. It brought isolation and pain.

John’s eyes opened. Something was wrong. Several seconds passed before he was able to pull his mind out of the fog it was in. He hadn’t slept the whole flight to the Maldives, and he’d been exhausted by the time he’d allowed himself to fall asleep on the couch with Marlena. Looking around, he rubbed his palm roughly over his face, trying to get his bearings. They were on Orpheus’s island. Marlena’s soft fearful whine brought him back quickly.

Stroking his hand across her forehead gently, John whispered, “Doc…hey, baby. It’s me. It’s me. I’m here.”

Still she moaned softly, her brow furrowed, and her eyes held tightly shut. It was a dream, possibly a nightmare. The kanbili called again, and Marlena choked on a sob, “No. No…not here.”

“But this time I’m with you,” John murmured quietly. He continued to stroke over her skin, brushing tendrils of hair from her cheek. “I’m here, baby, open your eyes.”

She couldn’t. As much as she wanted to open her eyes, and look into John’s indigo gaze, she whispered, “I can’t.”

The fear was paralyzing her, John could see that much. Reaching out, he wrapped her upper body into his strong embrace and he pulled her onto his lap, “Look at me, Marlena. Please?”

She buried her face in his chest, pulling the musky scent of him into her lungs. Another deep breath followed, and she whispered, “We’re at Orpheus’s island, aren’t we?”

“We are,” he said softly. “But we’re alone. Dante and Mason stayed outside. It’s just you and me in here. Just you and me.”

“Oh, G-d! Why here, John? Of all the places he could have sent us…why here?”

“I was looking around,” he told her. “Stefano moved us in haste. Nothing has been updated. Everything is exactly as it was. Even the video cameras. There are eight of them.”

“Everything is the same?” she asked, lifting her head. The first thing she saw were the large, frosted pink colored vases full of dead palms on either side of the door. She felt sick to her stomach, as she remembered Christian and Zoey racing through those doors calling her mother. It was as if the ghost of Orpheus himself stood there smiling at her while calling her darling. “John…I can’t be here.”

“Hey, Doc…baby, look at me,” he said, tipping her face up to his. He stared at her with intense blue eyes, “I’m with you. Right now, in this moment, I’m with you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dante watched Mason where he sat quietly leaning against the rock facade outside the compound. “How long are we supposed to be out here?”

“Until the supplies show up,” Mason said, without even opening his eyes. “Then we can go.”

“We’re just leaving them here?” Dante asked in surprise.

Mason finally glanced over, “Where are they going to go?”

Dante shrugged. Mason was right. They would be staying in the quarters near the airfield. It was the only way onto the island. There was no boat landing. That Orpheus dude had made sure of that. Glancing over at Mason, Dante asked, “You’ve been around a lot longer than me. What’s the deal with this Orpheus guy? How did he play into all of this?”

“He didn’t,” Mason said. “Until he did.”

“That makes no sense,” Dante replied.

“Milo Harp was a sad, lonely widower, raising his children as a single father until Stefano tracked him down. Roman Brady killed Milo’s wife Rebecca in an accidental shooting back in 1979. Milo Harp knew it was an accident. Orpheus was created by Stefano,” Mason told him. “He was nothing more than a manifestation of all of the anger and loneliness felt by Milo. Stefano allowed Rolf to dig around in his brain for a while, and Orpheus was born.”

“Another pawn?” Dante asked.

“Another pawn,” Mason told him. He was quiet for a long time. They were all pawns. Stefano used people like chess pieces. As more and more memories came to him, Mason realized he too was a pawn. His sister had been the queen to Stefano’s king, and she had betrayed him. Or had she? He was still attempting to fit the pieces together. They came to him in fragments and broken parts that he couldn’t fit together. The only complete memory he’d had was on the airplane the day before, and it still scared him. If it was true, then the ultimate betrayal was what Stefano had done to Seraphina and her child. 

Chapter 56

Marlena and Roman Brady Residence

Roman stood staring down at the blood stains on his carpet with a sense of disorientation. Chaos surrounded him. He’d destroyed the family photos, and he’d crushed the wine glasses. He’d ripped the frames from the wall near the French doors, where Marlena had created her picture wall, and in his tirade he’d walked over the broken glass. He still couldn’t feel any of it. Not really. He saw the ripped and torn photos of his family scattered across the floor, but he felt nothing. In his mind Stefano’s voice echoed from the past, 

“She believes him to be you, and he is twice the man you will ever be!”

“See how happy she is, Roman? He makes her happier than you ever could.”

“How could you expect someone as beautiful as Marlena to remain with an empty bed? You must admit that their chemistry is obvious.”

He stumbled on bloody feet across the carpet, intent on climbing the stairs to bed. Tripping over them, Roman fell to his knees at the foot of the stairs, as his rage bled from him. A sob tore from his throat, and he collapsed in on himself. His head curled forward, and his arms wrapped themselves around his prone body. He had no energy left for anger or fury. He started to feel the pain in his feet, a dull aching throb that pulsed every time his heart beat. It would likely be excruciating the following day, but he was too drunk to fully comprehend the ramifications of what he’d done. Laying his head down on the stairs, his eyes began to drift closed. Silence surrounded him, and exhausted, he fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

Rebecca had debated the whole drive from the hospital whether she should even be telling him about the baby. She could divorce John and leave Salem. No one would follow her, and Roman would be none the wiser, but then she thought about the teenager and the adult her child would someday be, and she knew she couldn’t keep the information from him. She saw Roman’s car in the driveway, and the house lights were on, but he wasn’t answering the door. Just as she was turning to leave, she saw Kim walking up the sidewalk towards the house.

“I was just getting ready to leave,” Rebecca told her. “I’ve knocked a few times, and rang the doorbell but he isn’t answering.”

“I’m here to check on him. Abe called me. He was concerned about how distant Roman was acting today at work.” Kim started digging through her purse, and pulled out Roman’s spare house key, unlocking the door. 

Rebecca was quiet. Even though she had come over to tell Roman about the pregnancy, she couldn’t have that conversation in front of Kim. Once Rebecca followed Kim inside the house, she knew she wouldn’t be having that conversation at all. At least not right then. 

Staring around with wide eyes, Rebecca and Kim were frozen momentarily in shock. Everything that had made it a home was destroyed. Photos were ripped from the walls, glass scattered across the carpeting. Rebecca stared at the fireplace, and watched the flames flit and crackle. The hearth had scattered bits of glass, and torn edges of photographs. She glanced over to see Kim kneeling near where Roman was lying on the stairs. He’d done this. He’d destroyed his whole life with Marlena in a jealous fit of rage. 

Rebecca softly touched her abdomen, wondering how she was going to tell him about this child, when he was so obviously struggling already. Would the news push him over the edge? She wasn’t sure how she felt about having a child with a man who was verging onto a mental collapse. She didn’t owe Roman anything, but he was the child’s father, although she wouldn’t consider the way he treated his family to be a glowing recommendation for fatherhood, but she had time. She had at least a month or so before her pregnancy started to show. Telling Roman about the baby wasn’t something she needed to do right away. She glanced around his destroyed home, feeling slightly sick to her stomach. Her gaze caught Kim’s, causing her to drop her hand and look away quickly.

Roman moaned softly, opening his eyes to stare at his sister, and he said with slurred, drunken words, “She did it again. She fucked him again…”

“Roman, I need to get you off of the floor. You need to see a doctor,” Kim said softly. “There’s glass, and blood everywhere.” Glancing around quickly, she saw the bloody footprints, and then noticed his lacerated feet. “You need to go to the hospital.” 

Roman was barely able to mumble in drunken, slurred words, “Fucking slut did it again.” His head rolled back, and he was again unconscious. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Soneva Fushi, Maldives

Palm trees swayed, and the sounds of birds carried on the wind. It was beautiful, and it was dreadful simultaneously. Marlena stared around the open lawn, once so familiar. “The last time I was here, I was missing the children…and you.”

“When Roman came back, I used to wonder about that,” John said softly, coming to stand behind her. His hands cupped her shoulders, squeezing her in reassurance. He thought about their conversation in the cabin when Stefano had left them in Gauley Valley, when Marlena had said she loved him.  “It was such a confusing time, and you don’t know how many times I wondered… wondered if you’d ever loved me, or if you loved me because I was Roman. I know you said–”

Marlena turned, staring up into his eyes, and she reached for his hand without a word. Lacing her fingers through his she started walking, pulling him back towards the house into an area where there were no cameras. This was a private conversation, one that would hurt Roman very badly if he ever heard her words, and she wouldn’t ever knowingly hurt him. 

When she finally stopped, tucked into a corner near the servants quarters, she stroked his face gently. “When Roman shot you in San Cristobal, he came out of the forest, scaring me so badly, I passed out. When I woke, he had me tucked away in a hut I didn’t recognize, and he was holding me…he was caressing my hair and whispering to me. John, I was so confused. I should have been elated. It was Roman.” She ran her fingers softly down his neck, feeling the stickiness from the heat outside. “I screamed. I put distance between us…it didn’t feel right. It felt wrong. Even once I knew it was true, once I knew that he was Roman, my mind scrambled and twisted…I kept denying it. I refused to accept it, because if he was Roman, who were you?”

“Doc,” John said softly, noting the tears in her eyes. “We don’t have to discuss it. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“I’m not,” she told him, her voice rough with emotion. “I’m not. Over the weeks that followed I hated myself. Roman wanted so badly to reconnect. I found myself getting angry because he was pushing me. I found myself thinking, sometimes wishing that he’d never found his way home, and oh…how I hated myself for wanting that…even for the slightest of moments. I hated that it would even cross my mind. That would mean that he would have eventually died at the hands of Stefano DiMera. That he would never see his children again, and the guilt of those thoughts overwhelmed me…but my heart was breaking. It was broken. Irrevocably. I watched you leave me to make a life with Isabella, and it destroyed me.”

John didn’t say anything. He knew Marlena well enough to understand that thinking, even sometimes wishing, that Roman had never returned would have upset her so much. 

“You weren’t the only one who felt like they lost everything in Mexico,” she whispered. “And it all started here. It started with Orpheus telling Christian and Zoey that I was their mother. It started with Orpheus telling the staff that I was his wife.”

Still silent, John reached for her. She looked so small, and scared…so sad. He pulled her body close, and sank to the floor, leaning his back against the wood paneled wall behind him. Marlena sat in the vee of his legs, her back resting against his chest, as her fingers slowly traced over his forearm as it rested across her abdomen. 

“I was forced to pretend to love him. I was forced to live a lie, and all I could think about…my enduring fear was that I would never see you or my children again. You, John…you. When I thought about you, and when I remembered you it was as if our lives started on August 22, 1986.”

“You never said that,” John murmured.

“I couldn’t. I thought it would hurt you. My mind separated the two of you. Who you were before Stefano…and the man I thought you were.” Marlena turned in his arms, coming to rest on her knees as she stared into his deep blue eyes. 

His arms fell limply to the floor on either side of himself, as he stared into the most beautiful hazel eyes. Eyes that he’d fallen in love with from the moment he’d first seen her in the hospital, his face wrapped in bandages and unable to speak. 

Marlena softly continued, “You had different mannerisms, you kissed me differently. You kissed with a passion that hadn’t been present with Roman before. Your lovemaking was more insistent… there was a fire, an intensity, that left me feeling…as if you would consume me. I didn’t understand it…but I craved it. I wanted to burn and melt in that fire, as long as I was in your arms. Never in my life have I felt anything even remotely close to what I have felt with you.” Marlena’s voice grew softer, and her eyes glanced downward as her cheeks warmed with a deep blush.

Finally, looking back up with determination, Marlena told him, “It was all new. It was your hands stroking my body, and the way you bite and nip at my skin. I told myself, it was because you had amnesia. Of course you might behave differently, because you lacked those memories of who you were before. I found myself more and more in love with you every day. So much in love, that I forgot the man I had loved before. I loved the new version of you…it was…” She ran her fingers over his mouth with a look of awe, whispering, “I loved you so much more than I had ever loved Roman.”

Emotions crossed her face and flitted through her eyes, as John watched her struggle to get her words out, “I told myself it was okay, because I still loved you…but sometimes I struggled, because I loved the new version of you as if you were a completely different person. You were a different person. The entire time Orpheus held me, I longed for you. When I returned to Salem, I was returning to you. So, when Roman grabbed me in San Cristobal it felt wrong, John. It was counterfactual to what my mind wanted. He kept trying to convince me that he was Roman, but it wasn’t what I wanted, because I was trying to find a way to make it okay…to find a way to be with you.”

John’s arms lifted, and his palms settled on her hips. Marlena felt them squeeze, and her chest tightened, while her belly fluttered. She was changing. She was growing. It was as if she had been caged inside a chrysalis for the entirety of her life, and suddenly she was breaking free. She had lived a life where her wants and her needs had always been secondary. Secondary to her sister Samantha, secondary to her job, secondary to Roman. She had been abused, and overlooked. Her sensitivity and her empathy had caused her to make choices and decisions in her life that benefited everyone around her, while she continued to overlook her own needs. 

Her belly fluttered again, the butterflies breaking free, and she leaned forward. She whispered against John’s lips, “I want you. I love you.”

John groaned, “Doc…” He tugged her onto his lap, telling her, “Straddle my lap baby. I need you closer.”

Marlena’s body trembled, and she felt her abdomen quiver. Settling in his lap, with her legs around his hips, she leaned forward, resting her face in the curve of his neck with a sigh. “When we go home,” she said softly. “I’m going to end my marriage to Roman.”

They hadn’t fully discussed what their plans might be if they were ever to be rescued. John worried about making plans because his life had been a series of calamities. If he made plans with Marlena, and he was disappointed again, he wasn’t sure if he would survive it. And, yet, the possibility of having her in his life, the possibility of making a life with her, was worth the pain and the risk. It was worth it all.

He was quiet, and Marlena wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Softly, she told him, “I understand that you made a vow to Rebecca…but I’ve broken my vows to Roman so many times…and I love you so. I have to end it. Out of respect for him…because I will always love you. I have to.”

“You’re right,” he replied. “I’m scared for what the future holds, but if there’s a chance that I could spend my life with you…I never should have married Rebecca. I shouldn’t have. I know that, and I will forever have my own guilt for how much this is going to hurt her, but my love for you is everything. I think, if Isabella hadn’t died, my love for you would have destroyed that as well. I would have continued to be drawn to you. I would have continued to watch you across rooms, and hold you for just seconds longer than was proper.”

Marlena knew what he was talking about. She’d felt every stare of his eyes. She’d felt every embrace. When his fingers softly caressed her as she walked by, or when his palm slid over her hip as he moved behind her, everything seemed proper to the eyes of almost everyone around them, but she felt it all. Sometimes his eyes would trap hers and her breath would catch. There were moments when her eyes had caught Isabella’s, and there had been sadness there. Sometimes she would catch Roman watching, and see the anger.

Lifting her face to stare up into John’s eyes, Marlena whispered, “I know…and even though I knew it was wrong, I craved it. The heat of your hand on my hip, or the slide of your fingers across mine. I craved it all.”

Chapter 57

Kimberly and Shane Donovan Residence

The video screen went fuzzy, and the room was bathed in silence. Images of Roman collapsed on his stairs, bleeding from his feet flashed through her mind. After several long beats Kim said, “If Stefano wanted to destroy Roman, I think this may have done it.”

Rebecca was still trying to process what she’d seen. Yes, her husband was making love to Marlena, but she couldn’t understand how Roman seemed to miss everything else. He was a police officer. He was trained to notice the details, but in this case he seemed to have missed them completely. Marlena’s body was obviously battered. It was evident in the bruises that marred her back, and the swelling in her face. “Roman never mentioned–”

Kim looked at her husband unsure of what to say. Roman had seemingly lost his mind in a jealous rage, failing to recognize or acknowledge any other aspect of the video. “Shane? Stefano has been pushing them together for months. What if–”

“–There is no what if, Kimberly. You’re right. He’s done something to facilitate this,” Shane replied. Stefano was diabolical. He was evil. He’d done horrible things to women in his life, but this was different. In every instance the ISA was aware of, Stefano’s damage had been emotional, or psychological. This was the first time that Shane had been aware of where Stefano had orchestrated physical violence against a woman as a form of manipulation. What he’d done, or had someone else do, to Marlena was sadistic. Was he so desperate to get revenge on Shawn Brady that he would lose his humanity in the process? “He’s done something to force Marlena and John together. Stefano is a master manipulator. He would know exactly what needed to be done, and I believe, based on what we’ve seen, he orchestrated an attack on Marlena.”

“I can’t even be angry at them…or outraged for Roman,” Rebecca said softly. “Marlena’s spine…her face…she was obviously beaten.”

Shane was quiet for a moment, “I know the two of you wanted to keep this private, for Marlena and John’s sake, but I’m going to have to share it with the ISA. It may not be a clue to their whereabouts, but it’s evidence. We may also be able to get some of the dialogue, make out what they might be saying to each other, if we have forensics go over it.”

“Someone hurting her…John wouldn’t…if he cares about her, he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He would be blaming himself,” Rebecca told them. “Stefano had to somehow separate them…John won’t leave her side now. He won’t. I know him so well. If he thinks she’s in danger, and he’s that in love with her…”

Kim could see the pain in Rebecca’s eyes, but was unsure of what to say or how to comfort her. She didn’t seem the type to accept comfort anyway. 

Absently, Rebecca’s palm rested on her abdomen. Roman was at the hospital with Abe and Bo. She was pregnant. Her husband was obviously in love with someone else. As much as she loved John, she couldn’t remain married to someone who didn’t love her in return. She had more pride than that. She had no doubt that John and Marlena would be rescued. It was only a matter of time, and she wouldn’t be there begging for his love. 

Her eyes caught Kim’s, and she said, almost as if she had been defeated in battle, “I believe Stefano is torturing us as much as he is torturing them.”

“That’s been his whole plan from the beginning,” Shane told her. He removed the video from the VCR, and he collected the cassette tape they’d found laying on the floor. “Stefano is playing with everyone’s emotions. Audio recordings that lack video, and videos with no sound. It’s all a game. He’s intentionally creating doubt, frustration, and anxiety. He had Roman for seven years, and he knows exactly how to drive Roman over the edge. Think about it. Stefano kidnapped him from his family, faking his death. We still don’t know exactly what Roman was subjected to, not all of it anyway. It’s possible that Stefano is intentionally playing on certain insecurities that Roman might have. Insecurities that were created by Stefano on purpose…for this moment.”

Rebecca could still hear John’s rough voice on the cassette tape, instructing Marlena to open her legs. She could hear the desire and the want in his tone. It was desperate, and he had never sounded that way with her. His words echoed in Rebecca’s mind, after Marlena asked him to touch her, “I can’t.” Two words, seemingly innocuous, conveying so much, conveying everything Rebecca needed to know about her husband’s feelings for Marlena. She would end her marriage, because she would never beg someone to love her, and she would wait to tell Roman about the baby, because she still had some time.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

University Hospital, Salem

Bo walked towards the telephone at the nurses station in the hospital, already knowing that the call would be from Shane. Roman had arrived at the hospital intoxicated with a blood alcohol level of .25. As time went on he became increasingly agitated, screaming about Marlena and John. He called his wife every nasty slur imaginable, he disowned John, he accused them of a years long affair, and he eventually had to be sedated. Bo and Abe had stared down at Roman as he slipped under. A tear had slid from Roman’s eye as he mumbled one last time, “She’s a G-d damned, fucking slut.”

Reaching out to take the telephone the nurse handed him, he said, “Bo Brady.”

“Bo…it’s Shane,” Shane said. “We were able to watch the video, and there was another audio recording as well. It was…it was what we thought it might be. The video was quite explicit. Stefano took out the audio in another attempt to play mind games. I’ll have to send it off to the ISA to see if any of the conversation can be garnered by forensics.”

“Shit,” Bo replied. “Roman had to be sedated. His blood alcohol level was high enough to kill him.”

“Did he say anything about how Marlena looked?” Shane asked him carefully.

“No. Nothing at all. Should he have?” Bo glanced over as the elevator dinged, and Hope stepped off. Her face lit up when she saw him as she approached. His heart swelled. If anything positive came out of this debacle with Stefano kidnapping Marlena, it was that he had Hope back with him. Shawn D had his mother back. 

“Bo, she was…she was obviously battered. There was swelling of her face, as well as bruising, her spine was lined with bruises as well. It was a video of John and Marlena making love, but I’m inclined to believe—”

“—Stefano did something to force their hand,” Bo interrupted. Hope stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him, resting her face on the curve of his neck. She stayed silent, allowing him to finish his conversation. “Based on everything we know, they were trying to not take that final step, no matter how much they wanted to.”

“Kim agrees. Rebecca does as well. Stefano orchestrated something, and from the look of Marlena in the video it was brutal. Injuring her, or hurting her would trigger every protective instinct John has in regards to Marlena,” Shane said. “You know that.”

“And it’s obvious?” Bo asked, thinking back to how Roman was behaving. How could Roman miss something like that?

“Very obvious,” Shane told him. “I can’t believe that Roman didn’t notice—” 

Shane’s voice cut off, and Kim came over the line, “Bo, Roman didn’t ask anything about Marlena’s welfare?”

A heavy weight settled in his chest as he told her, “No, Kimmy. Nothing.”

“It’s obvious from the video that Marlena was beaten or attacked,” Kim said with tears in her voice. Her heart was breaking. She loved Marlena and John so much, and imagining them helpless, living through whatever mind games Stefano was playing, was almost too much for her to bear. “I don’t understand how Roman could have not noticed. How could he be that caught up in himself?”

After hanging up the phone, Bo stood silently cradling Hope in his arms. She glanced up after a few seconds, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Fancy Face, I’m okay, but I don’t think Roman will be…or anyone else either, for a long time.”

They returned to Roman’s room. If Marlena was attacked, and Stefano orchestrated it, the guilt that John would feel would be all consuming. Bo had known him for years, and he would take all of the responsibility upon himself. He would blame himself, and given that John and Marlena were trying to stop themselves from taking that final step, from making love, Stefano knew exactly how to push them into it. He stood beside his brother’s bed, and whispered, “I don’t even know who you are anymore. How can you be so bitter, and so angry that you’ve lost sight of who you used to be?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Soneva Fushi, Maldives

John found himself in that shadowy place between waking and sleep, unable to determine if what he was seeing was a dream or a long forgotten memory. 

A strong breeze blew in from the ocean, casting cool air across his face. His hair swept across his forehead, as he stood immobile, barely able to comprehend what he’d just seen. Marlena, alive, slipping from between two boulders near the shore as if it were the most normal part of her day. He stared at her awe, a vision before his blurry eyes. His chest constricted, and his throat tightened. He found himself reaching for her, even though she had yet to face him. Sunlight caught in the golden strands of her hair, and flickered amber and copper. 

As she turned to face him, he watched her eyes widen in surprise. She let out a small gasp, continuing to stare at him with hazel eyes that lacked recognition. Stepping back gingerly, she looked around, trying to find an outlet. Her eyes stared at him warily, and her hands brushed over the stone facade behind her looking for the hidden latch so she could escape.

Stepping closer, barely able to speak, he croaked, “Doc? It’s Roman. It’s Roman.” His world was shaken. His mind was whirling. Marlena was dead. This was another trick. Stefano was messing with his mind. It had to be another trick. 

And he fully believed that…until she spoke. Her words came haltingly, but as soon as he heard her voice, he knew it was no joke. It was Marlena.

“Who are you?” she asked shakily. She had backed away from him, and had herself pinned against the rock face. “I…I don’t know you.”

“Marlena,” he whispered, stepping closer. “Marlena, it’s me. It’s your husband, Roman.”

“No… no. Stefano said Roman died, and you…you aren’t Roman,” she replied with increasing volume.

“Step away from her!” Stefano roared walking towards them along the beach.

“What the fuck did you do to her, you lousy bastard! What did you do to her?”

Stefano glanced at Marlena, “Lena darling, go into the house. I will meet you there.”

“I don’t understand,” she said softly, still staring at the man in front of her with confusion. “He says, he’s Roman…my husband.”

“I will explain it all to you when I come inside,” Stefano said firmly, digging in his pocket. John watched Marlena turn slowly, glancing at him one last time with eyes that seemed reluctant. The last glimpse he had of her was her retreating form escaping through a panel in the rock face. When he looked back towards Stefano, the man held in his hand a small red pagoda.

All he heard was, “Soldier Black!” and the memory ended. 

John’s eyes opened, and a great gasp of air was drawn into his lungs. Marlena was curled on her side, facing away from him, and he scrambled from the bed, intent on getting outside as quickly as possible. His feet hit the cool dark wood of the floor, and he hurried from the room. He’d seen Marlena. He’d seen her in Baliceaux all those years ago, when Stefano had kidnapped Carrie. He’d seen her, and Stefano had used the pagoda to make him forget! 

John fell to his knees on the dewy lawn, and leaned on his hands, gasping for air. He could feel the wet grass seeping through the linen fabric of his pants. Again, as with so many times before he felt as if he had failed her. Stefano had fucked with his mind, and fucked with his life, and he continually seemed to fail her. She’d been there. She’d been within reach of his fingers, and then, nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Marlena’s bare feet shuffled over the wet grass. It was a beautiful night. The sky was clear, and full of stars. The rising sun and the waning moon fought for control, casting a soft pink glow over everything around her. As she rounded the corner, she saw John collapsed, leaning on his palms with his head hanging low. Approaching him carefully, she traced her fingers along the nape of his neck, letting him know she was near. She knelt down, settling herself beside him, and she asked, “What did you remember?”

John glanced at her sideways, “How do you know it was a memory?”

“I don’t know. Not really. It’s a feeling. The way you disappeared from our bedroom. The way you look kneeling here on the lawn.” She leaned against him, smoothing her palm down the length of his arm, “Tell me about it.”

“I feel like I have failed you so many times,” he whispered. He felt himself collapsing inward, unable to feel hope. The memory of seeing her in Baliceaux, knowing that he had left her behind, and arriving back in Salem convinced of her death, was destroying him. “I saw you in Baliceaux…when Stefano kidnapped Carrie.”

Marlena was quiet, allowing John to try and process his thoughts. What he was saying was possible. While they believed she was in a coma the whole time Stefano had her, maybe she wasn’t. When she woke up in San Cristobal, her muscles were strong. She wasn’t weak. She’d been able to walk, run even. That wouldn’t have been possible if she’d been in a coma for five years. The thought had come to her several times since her return home, but she had never given it much thought. She remembered nothing of that time. Considering whether she might have been awake for part of it struck fear deep in her soul.

“I was on the beach, staring out over the water. Stefano was playing his games again. I kept asking myself, were you alive, or weren’t you? I had chased a woman through his home, and when I caught her, it wasn’t you. I had thought it might be…G-d, how I had hoped it was, but it wasn’t. I was destroyed…and angry,” John said softly. His fists clenched in the grass, tearing it from the dirt. He held the remnants in his fists, “I was on the beach mourning you as if I had lost you again, and you appeared from nothing, stepping from a hidden passageway in the crevice of a copse of boulders. We stared at each other in shock, but then…you were scared. You didn’t know me at all. There was no recognition in your eyes. Only fear.”

John stood up, rubbing the dirt and grass along the thighs of his white linen pants. “Stefano arrived. He called you Lena, and he sent you away.” 

Marlena stood up, stepping close to him. She rested her hand gently on his arm, “John…”

“That bastard pulled out a small, red, pagoda from his pocket…and I don’t remember anything else.” He looked down at her, and finished with a sob, “The ISA, Orpheus, Stefano…Anthony. How many times have you been taken or victimized and I have been unable to stop it? How many times have I failed?”

“John,” Marlena replied gently. “You haven’t failed me. Darling you have never failed me. Never. Never. Never. Every time I have needed you, sometimes when I didn’t even realize I needed you, you have been there for me. None of what has happened to me has been your fault.”

“Stefano brought me into your life. Why? To destroy the Brady’s? To destroy Roman?” John wiped at the tears streaming down his face. “And the one person I love more than anyone in the world…” He turned to face her, his palms sliding to grip her face, “I love you so much, Doc.” He rubbed his face alongside hers, and he whispered, “I can’t keep you safe. I can’t save you…no matter how much I try.”

“Every time you hold me,” she said softly, stroking her fingers across his brow. “Every time you kiss me, or whisper to me as we lie in bed. Every time you comfort me, every time you stroke my hair, or make love to me…John you are my heart…my whole heart. When I am with you, I am safe, and I know, just like I knew this time, that you will find me.”

John stared down into her wide, shiny, green flecked amber eyes, and he took a deep breath. A breath of her soul, her essence, everything she was to him, in a single moment. 

“In Baliceuax, I knew it would be you that found me. I knew that, and you did. I woke up to see your wide blue eyes, and relief coursed through me like a wave. Relief, John. Relief, because you were there, and you held me in your arms, and I knew, no matter what, with you, everything would be okay.” Marlena leaned up, softly kissing John’s warm, tear covered lips. The taste of salt burst forth on her tongue, and she kissed him again. “I love you, and I want you to know this…you have never let me down John Black. Never.”

Chapter 58

University Hospital, Salem

Rebecca knocked lightly on the door of Roman’s hospital room before pushing it open a fraction. Poking her head in she saw Roman sitting in the bed, staring out the window. The only sound that filled the room was the sound of his breathing. Pushing the door open slowly, she knew she was avoiding the inevitable. She would have to eventually have a conversation with Roman and tell him about the baby. Eventually they would both have to face it all, and she felt that she was going to handle that much better than Roman. After the state she’d found him a few days earlier, Rebecca wasn’t hopeful that Roman could handle much of anything that held more stress than making a cup of coffee. 

Roman turned his head, watching Rebecca as she entered the room, and he felt an odd, unexpected emotion settle in his chest. Maybe he was losing his mind, but for a brief moment, when the sunlight caught the auburn in her hair, and her brown eyes flashed amber, he thought she was pretty. For a moment, he could remember the feel of the soft tangle of her chestnut curls between his fingers. He turned back to stare out the window, refusing to allow himself to even consider what he was feeling. Instead he said, “What are you doing here, Becky?”

Rebecca felt a shiver run down her spine. Did she like it when he called her that? Or did she hate it? Her emotions in regards to Roman were complicated, and becoming more complicated by the day. Carrying his baby likely had something to do with that. 

She approached his bedside, and sat on a stool beside him, “You know, you almost died. Your blood alcohol level was enough to kill you. Isn’t that reason enough?” Romans hands and feet were bandaged, and he had dark rings under his eyes. It was obvious he wasn’t sleeping well. She could understand that. She was suffering through nightmares of her own. 

Roman finally turned to face her, “You watched the video?” He could feel the anger start to bubble beneath what he felt was his calm surface, not realizing that Rebecca could see it all. “You saw what our loving spouses did?”

“I did, but I also saw some things I think you missed,” she said softly, as she recalled the bruises running the length of Marlena’s spine. She could still visualize Marlena’s beautiful face swollen and marred. “I think you missed a lot, actually.”

Miss? He wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell Rebecca Morrison that she was fucking crazy. She’d seen the same video he’d watched through three times. He sneered, “What was there to miss? It was obvious what the two of them were about. John couldn’t wait to get her into bed, and my wife? She had no fucking shame at all. She’s no fool, Rebecca. Marlena and John…they both knew they were being recorded, and they’ve been sniffing around each other for two months. Hell, John fucked her before he left Salem and then promptly married you! Think about it! He left you! He left you to go after my wife!”

“He did,” she told him calmly. “I’d be a fool to ignore that. I am very aware of what my husband did, and how he feels about your wife, Roman. The videotape Stefano sent you made it very clear.”

Roman’s eyes locked on hers. She was too calm, too collected. She should be as angry as he was, maybe more so. John had lied to her from the beginning. He’d run from Salem and latched onto Rebecca for no other reason than to keep himself from going back. She should hate Marlena and John with the same amount of venom and vitriol he did. “This doesn’t bother you?”

“Bother me?” she asked with a sardonic laugh. “I’m gutted. I’m so broken, I don’t know which way is up, but I will not let this destroy me. No man will ever have the power to do that. John’s infidelity doesn’t define me.” Her deep brown eyes were riveted to his, and she said, “I still love him. I will probably always love him. It’s hard to think much past that, but Roman, we were unfaithful too…probably before they were.”

“Not before they were. Marlena cheated on me long before that video was made. She’s been emotionally cheating on me for years!” He thought about his night with Rebecca, how it had started and how it had ended. “Besides, the difference is, we were drunk.”

“Does that change anything? We were unfaithful, whether we were drunk or not, we broke our marriage vows.” Rebecca thought about the innocent life growing in her womb. A child that only existed because of her infidelity with Roman. A child that she would never regret, no matter how it came to be. She was quiet for a moment before she said, “I’m filing divorce papers with the court today. I know when I’ve lost…and watching John with Marlena–”

“–You watched them,” he said in anger, barely able to get his words out. “You watched them…you heard them. I can tell from the look on your face that you did, and yet you sit here so fucking calm.” He didn’t understand how Rebecca could sit there beside him and speak of filing for divorce in a voice almost entirely devoid of emotion.

She looked at him with sharp eyes, “What I can’t understand, Roman…what I’ve been trying to understand after watching that video all the way through, is how you, you, managed to miss the most important details. You’re a police officer, a decorated one at that, and yet you allowed your own emotions…your blinding rage to overtake you, causing you to miss the most obvious and important details.”

“I’m pretty sure I know what I saw, Becky…what we both saw. Shit what my whole G-d damned family has probably seen at this point. Your husband fucking my wife!” Roman told her in frustration. “Unless you saw something different?”

Rebecca sat quietly before she said, “I saw more. I saw Marlena, your wife…the one you flew into a jealous rage over…I saw her battered and bruised with swelling across her face. I saw her back striped with bruises, as if she had been attacked and thrown against something. What I don’t understand is how you missed that?”

His mind refused to accept what she was saying, “It was dark, and the moon…it was shadows.” Even as he said it, he wasn’t sure it was shadows. Rebecca’s eyes, and the set of her jaw said it was much more. Lamely, without much conviction, he mumbled, “It was shadows.”

“No. Not shadows. She was hurt, and hurt badly, and as much as I want to hate her, and despise every breath she draws…as much as I want to blame John for everything, we both know who the main player in this game of manipulation is.” She glanced down at her perfectly manicured nails, and finally glanced at Roman again, “Kim and Shane believe that Stefano either attacked Marlena himself, or had someone commit the act.”

Roman immediately knew that was outside of something that Stefano would typically do. “Why would he do that? What would be his motivation, Rebecca?”

“To push them together. To arouse John’s protective instincts and break down any final barriers that might be holding them back from making love…to hurt you,” she said. “She was beaten, Roman. There’s no denying that. It was evident in the black eye, and the swollen jaw. It was evident that someone had slammed her against something because of the bruises running the length of her back. She was beaten to push them into making love!”

Rebecca was silent for a long time before she said softly, “I could hate Marlena, and be bitter at John. I could rage at the world around me, and blame everyone but myself, but I made mistakes too. I slept with you, didn’t I?”

Roman opened his mouth to argue, but Rebecca stopped him by placing her hand on his arm, “Yes, we were drunk…the first time, but the fact remains, our spouses did cross that line until after we had. They had more self control than we did, and they are in love… You can lie to yourself, Roman. I could make excuses too. We were drunk the first time. I’ll admit I was still slightly intoxicated the second time…but in your shower? In the bed you share with your wife? I was well aware of what I was doing, and as much as it shames me to admit it, a part of me wanted to hurt her. I wanted to hurt her as much as she was hurting me. I wanted to hurt John.”

Removing her hand from Roman’s arm, she stood up quickly, and walked towards the window. Looking down she saw a wide parking lot, and smirked, “Quite a view you’ve got here.”

Roman sat there in his hospital bed, grappling with everything that Rebecca had told him. Was it possible that he’d missed Marlena’s injuries? Had he been so caught up in his rage that he’d gotten it wrong? Ever since he’d gotten free of Stefano, he’d been plagued with nightmares, flashbacks, and a fiery rage he couldn’t seem to suppress. A rage so uncontrollable at times he found himself driving deep into the forest on Green Mountain simply to roar his fury and helplessness into an empty sky.

Rebecca turned to face him, and the first thing he thought was how pretty she was. He was well aware that he shouldn’t be thinking of her that way.

“You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to feel betrayed, but, Roman, you’re going to have to get over it,” she told him, thinking about the child inside of her. “Marlena is the mother of your children. She’s in love with John. Stefano DiMera has done a smash up job on all of your…our lives, hasn’t he? You have to find a way to accept what’s coming, because you and I know it’s coming.”

“So you suggest I divorce her? Give up the life I was trying to make with my family?”

“There’s a Yiddish proverb my Zayde used to say, Man plans and G-d laughs. You can fight it, hang onto someone who wants to be somewhere else, or you can move on. I’m moving on. Why would I fight for John? He loves Marlena. That was obvious from the way he held her…the way he stroked her body.” Rebecca wiped at the tears in her eyes, hating herself for showing even the smallest amount of weakness. Something about Roman, the way he was looking at her, made her feel that it was okay. “I won’t spend my life trying to make him love me while he dreams of holding another woman in his arms. I need to move on. I suggest you do the same.”

The room was silent. Rebecca considered telling Roman about the child they were going to have, about the baby they were going to bring into the world, but she didn’t. Standing up straight from where she’d been leaning into the window frame, she told him, “Marlena is the mother of your children. No matter what happens, how you treat her will always impact Sami and Eric. It will even impact Carrie. If you treat Marlena with disdain, or if you disrespect her, they will see it. Even if you think they won’t.”

Roman watched her stride across the room, and give him one last glance before opening the door. As it closed on her back an unsettled feeling came over him. How he handled his wife and his brother’s betrayal was his own fucking business. He certainly didn’t need a lecture from the most annoying lawyer in Salem. How he felt and how he dealt with it was none of her concern. What was the point of bringing up his children, or his relationship with them? Why would Rebecca even care about how he treated Marlena?

He went over their whole conversation looking for any indication to a possible underlying meaning. An image of her facing the window, her hand on her abdomen. Possibly nothing. Possibly something. A gesture Roman had seen throughout his life. A gesture he’d seen Kimberly, Kayla, Hope, and Marlena do, even before they announced their pregnancies. Rebecca was pregnant. 

Images flashed through his mind, replaying his night with her. The soft flesh of her thighs as he pounded into her from behind. The sounds she made, low and sweet. The look in her eyes as he kissed his way up her body on the stairs. The way her breasts felt sliding across his chest in the shower, and the way it felt when he pinned her hands over her head and thrust into her welcoming body in the bed he shared with his wife. He hadn’t used protection. In their multiple fevered joinings it had never once occurred to him to use protection. So the question became, whose baby was it? Johns? Or his?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Stockholm, Sweden

Stefano sat behind a heavy wooden desk with a telephone receiver perched at his ear, “Mason, I want the photos given to them in the morning. When they wake, either you or Dante will deliver them. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Mason replied. He knew which photos Stefano was referring to. The dated ones, showing John’s wife and Marlena’s husband engaged in carnal activities on the dining room table. 

“It’s time to upset the status quo,” Stefano told him. “As soon as the location here in Stockholm is ready, John and Marlena will be moved. In the meantime, I need you and Dante to remain there.”

“Yes, Sir,” Mason replied.

Stefano hung up the telephone, and said loudly, “Celeste! Show yourself!”

Stepping from around the door where she’d been hiding in the hallway, she said, “Dinner is ready, Stefano.”

“Dinner is ready? Dinner is the reason you were lurking about? I do not appreciate being spied on,” he told her.

“I didn’t want to interrupt your telephone call,” she lied easily. Stefano lifted his hand waving her away. On light footsteps she left his study. Once she had passed the main living area, she leaned against the wall in exhaustion. She may be dying. Cancer would take her life, but not before she watched Stefano die from a bullet to the head. A soft smile spread across her face as she closed her eyes and watched the life drain from Stefano’s body. His death was clear. Who committed it was not, but she wouldn’t allow herself to leave the Earth until she knew that Stefano would never harm their child. The child she’d hidden from him.

Chapter 59

Soneva Fushi, Maldives

An nondescript envelope sat on the hardwood floor outside of John and Marlena’s bedroom door with a note written in a scrawl John immediately recognized. Marlena stood behind John, watching warily as he leaned forward picking it up. Dread settled in her gut like a lead weight. It was becoming familiar, to live in a constant state of anxiety and fear. She knew that whatever was sealed inside the package in John’s hand would change their lives. It always did. Stefano wouldn’t waste their time with anything else. Stefano wouldn’t bother with anything else.

John wanted to tear the envelope and its contents to shreds. He wanted to toss it away, because he knew Stefano. Everything that man stood for brought nothing but pain, and as more and more of his memories returned, fear unlike any he had known before started to take hold. John felt innately that whatever happened to him, Marlena, and Roman, it would be the end. Stefano’s plan would be seen to completion and someone would die. Stefano’s intention with whatever was in the envelope was to create even more harm, always keeping them on edge with fear, and living in a constant state of fear was a death sentence in and of itself.

Needing reassurance, Marlena placed her palm on John’s back. He felt the heat of her hand, and some of the tension left him. Her fingers brushed the phoenix tattoo softly. He said nothing, slowly turning to walk back into the room. They’d chosen that room because there were no cameras, no audio equipment, and most importantly for Marlena…no memories. They didn’t need Stefano prying into their most private moments.

“Don’t open it,” she whispered, reaching to take the envelope from his hand. “Don’t open it.”

“Doc,” he responded softly, setting the package on the end of the bed. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “We can’t ignore this. You know that as well as I do.”

She sat down, lifting the envelope unsteadily, staring at it as if it might burn her fingers. “I’m scared.”

John sat across from her, his knees brushing hers, and reached forward, using the pad of his thumb to gently wipe a tear from her cheek. He smiled, the feel of her skin bringing him pleasure, even in the smallest of touches. “I know…I know, baby, but we can’t allow Stefano to always be one step ahead. We have to open it.”

Marlena felt anxious, “You’re right. You’re right. I know you’re right. I am so…emotionally exhausted. I don’t know what I would do without you. If you hadn’t found me in Baliceaux…if I’d been alone these months–”

“–Stefano wanted me to find you,” John told her. “I knew I was walking into a trap. Sure, I told myself it could be a trap, but I knew. I knew, and none of it mattered.” He took a deep breath staring into her worried eyes, “I walked away from Rebecca, and straight to you. I wouldn’t leave you alone in this. Rebecca told me you weren’t my responsibility. You have a husband, and still I left her. It almost drove me mad thinking about how lonely you must have felt…how scared. For weeks I was working out that first clue, and Rebecca would find me in the middle of the night, wandering barefoot through the roots of the ficus tree in the backyard. I was lost, Doc…thinking of you. Always…thinking of you.”

Glancing at the envelope in her hands, she asked him, “What do you think it is?” Apprehension rippled through her gut as she imagined the possibilities, but then her mind landed on photos. The envelope was flat, what else could it be?

John watched the emotions play over her face as she trembled before him, and he covered her hands with his, stilling their movement. “Hey. Hey, we’re together. I’m with you, and you’re with me. That means something.”

Suddenly, she had to know, and her shaky hands started ripping the paper. For a brief moment, she stopped moving as a stack of 8×10, glossy, black and white photos slid into her palms. John recognized what she held, but he was distracted by her reaction. Blankly, without any real emotion, she shuffled through the stack in her hand, stopping on the last photo. Her eyes scanned over it for several seconds. Under her breath, almost absently, she whispered, “June 21st?”

The date struck a chord. Summer solstice. It was just after he’d been reunited with Marlena. As if in slow motion the photos fell from her fingers onto the bed, and she fled from the room on bare feet, her white linen shift fluttering around her ankles. The photos lay scattered across the coverlet. Picking one up, John stared at it in surprise. Roman, shirtless and angry, held Rebecca against the wall by the kitchen, her arms pinned above her head. The look of arousal in Roman’s eyes was obvious, and the look of challenge in Rebecca’s eyes was daring him to do more. He reached for another photo, Rebecca pushing her jeans to the floor, while Roman leaned against the dining room table watching her with a smirk of satisfaction. There was no mistaking where this was leading. The next photo…his wife, completely nude, spread out over the table. She stared at Roman over her shoulder, while he pushed the flat of his palm up her spine. On and on, a series of nearly twenty consecutive photos, ending with Roman holding Rebecca against him as his head fell back with a roar. No explanation was needed.

John thought he should feel something. Afterall his wife was fucking another man. He didn’t, at least not in relation to what he’d just seen. Dispassionate was how he would describe it. John knew Rebecca very well, and he knew exactly where her motivation was in that moment forever caught on film. To hurt Marlena. To hurt him. His wife had fucked Roman less than three weeks after begging him to stay with her. It was absolutely done as an act of revenge, which meant that Stefano had prompted it. He’d likely been playing just as many mind games with Roman, and by association, Rebecca, as he had with John and Marlena.

The note, which had been attached to the outside of the envelope, lay forgotten on the rug near John’s feet. Another taunt. John picked it up with a wry smirk, as he read, “A few photographs, some audio recordings, and they behave as if they are lustful beasts.” He dropped the slip of paper onto the pile of photos, and left the room to go in search of Marlena.

Her reaction stung a little. John couldn’t deny that. The hurt and betrayal she’d tried to hide from him as she ran from the room was obvious. Every aspect of his life, from the moment of his birth, had been somehow molded or shaped through the machinations of Stefano DiMera. Seeing photos of Rebecca with Roman, while surprising at first, didn’t really upset him. As soon as he’d opened the bedroom door and spied the envelope on the floor, John had known it was another move in Stefano’s game. 

He tried to imagine how he might feel if he were shown photos of Marlena with Roman…or another man. The thought of her with Roman brought an ache of pain with it. The thought of her with another man came with blinding rage. It was so powerful his breath caught, and he immediately pushed the images from his mind. Looking at those photos was different for Marlena. She had tried to make her marriage to Roman work. She had struggled for years with the fact that she was in love with two men. Seeing Roman like that would be a bombshell she wasn’t expecting, just as Stefano intended it to be, because she’d believed that Roman loved her. It was the only reason she’d stayed with him and tried to make their marriage work.

John rounded the corner from the garden to see Marlena sobbing in front of a towering palm. Unaware of his presence, she screamed her rage into the sky, and punched the trunk of the tree repeatedly in her fury. He’d never seen her lose control that way, unless it was in the bedroom. Hurrying across the lawn, John wrapped his arms around her solidly, lifting her from the ground. Her feet kicked, and a strangled moan escaped her. His heart was aching with pain for her, and hurt for himself, because she was mourning her relationship with Roman so hard. “Baby,” he whispered roughly in her ear. “Baby…Marlena…”

Her fingers gripped his forearm, and John noticed that her knuckles were already bruising, a cut lining one of them. Marlena threw her head back against his chest, “Let me go, John! Let me go!”

“No, Doc. Not if you’re going to hurt yourself,” he rumbled softly in her ear. He’d never seen her so upset. “I love you too much to stand by and allow you to hurt yourself. I love you far too much.”

She stopped struggling. He wouldn’t let her loose until she did. “How could he do that to me?” she asked with a soft hiccup. “How could he?”

Some of the hurt John was feeling faded, when he realized that Marlena’s emotional state was the result of more than Roman cheating. It was the result of who he cheated with. It was the why. Roman had come into Marlena’s life in the aftermath of her marriage to Don. The hurt and betrayal she had felt over her failed marriage, because of Don’s affair with Liz had left her vulnerable. In 1982, her baby had recently died, and she’d considered Liz a friend. In the present, the woman he held in his arms was that same woman. Hurt. Betrayed. Vulnerable.

Her body sagged against him, most of her rage exhausted. Unable to say much more, she cried softly, “How could he? He knows what Don did to me…and he…” Marlena knew she wasn’t making complete sense, but in the moment, emotion reigned.

“Stefano manipulated them the same way he’s played us. His note said as much,” John said quietly. A soft breeze blew across their exposed skin, carrying with it the scent of fragrant tropical flowers and impending rain. He felt Marlena relax even more. “We have to remember, Doc…we crossed that line too. I left Salem because I couldn’t stop myself from loving you.”

“I know,” Marlena said so softly it was barely audible. She turned in his arms, “I don’t…I don’t think I can take much more. It’s Stefano holding us captive, it’s feeling helpless, it’s feeling unsafe…constantly on edge, wondering what he’ll do next. Seeing the photos was shocking, it was upsetting.”

John looked away, but Marlena’s hands cupped his jaw, forcing him to look into her eyes, “But, it was more than that. It was the shock of it, the unexpected nature…I’m on the edge. Always on edge…especially after what…” She didn’t finish her sentence, but they both knew what she’d meant to say, Anthony did.

Marlena was quiet, and John waited, until she said softly, “Roman did it to hurt me. That’s why I’m so upset. After what Don did…Roman knows how much that hurt me, and he…he slept with Rebecca because he knew it was the one thing he could do that would devastate me. Not because he was in love with her…not the way I love you.”

John had to ask her, “Are you? Hurt?”

“I’m hurt because of his motives…does that make sense?”

“It does,” he replied. “Stefano sent them photos of us together…audio of us…our conversations. We spoke about the plane, Doc. We talked about the baby you lost, and our desire for each other…that’s hard to hide. He could have sent them any of that, possibly all of it.” he brushed a lock of her hair from her forehead. 

“We knew he would. I guess…I expected that Roman would understand that he was being manipulated. I thought he would be stronger. He wouldn’t allow it to happen,” she said, resting her palm on the heated skin of his chest.

“He probably feels hurt, angry…betrayed.”

“Did you see the dates on the photos? I think we have more reason to feel that way.”

John was quiet again. She knew he had seen the dates. The question was rhetorical. If the date was accurate, her husband had slept with John’s wife less than two months after she’d been taken. Rebecca had been in Salem barely three weeks when she’d slept with Roman. It was out of character for both of them, but the photos weren’t fakes. John and Marlena knew their respective spouses well enough to not question the authenticity. 

John pulled Marlena into the shade under the palm and sank to the grass with her in his arms. He settled his spine against the base of the tree, and Marlena curled into the vee between his legs. Her fingers ran through the hair on his chest.

“I felt so much guilt, John. It consumed me. It drove every decision, it fueled everything I did in relation to my marriage to Roman. Guilt for what we did on Victor’s plane…I shouldn’t have done that, and guilt for the baby I lost. I thought losing our baby was my punishment for being unfaithful,” she whispered. “You found me in Baliceaux, and again, I was wracked with guilt, because I knew as soon as Stefano mentioned you, that you would find me before Roman. As much as I tried to deny it, it was the truth. All over again I felt unfaithful. I should believe that Roman, my husband would find me…but…I wanted you. My daydreams consisted of your face coming to me as I slept, and the relief I would feel…it was overwhelming, and it was immediately followed by feeling as if I were cheating all over again. I fought it…until I couldn’t–”

“–only to find out, Rebecca and Roman didn’t fight it at all,” John said sardonically.

Marlena rested her face in the curve of John’s shoulder as asked him, “Did it bother you? Seeing Roman with Rebecca?” She shouldn’t have asked, because she found herself so afraid of the answer. She’d reacted because seeing Roman with another woman was so unexpected, but it was only then that she started to consider how John might feel on the flip side of the coin.

“I’m not really in love with Rebecca,” he admitted. “I was able to lie to myself while living in Italy and not being faced with you everyday, but those pictures…they were more surprising than upsetting.” His palm slid over her shoulder, cupping her neck, “Two months with you, Doc, and I can’t ever go backwards. My heart belongs to you.”

Marlena rose onto her knees facing him, her face a demonstration in frustration, “All this time we’ve been fighting out desire, working to restrain ourselves from demonstrating our love for each other, and Roman…Roman is fucking Rebecca on my dining room table.” Her fingers stroked his stubbled jaw. “I wanted to end things with Roman respectfully. I wanted to face him, and admit my mistakes. I wanted my marriage to end with respect…face to face…I–I owed him that. Maybe I still owe him that…” Her voice trailed off, as she watched her fingers trail over John’s bare chest, “But every night I dream of you. I dream of your lips on mine, and the taste of your mouth. I dream of your hands on my skin…”

“I know,” he told her, trying to clear his throat which had suddenly grown tight. Marlena looked at him questioningly, and he said, “You’re not exactly quiet in your sleep.”

Looking down, she smiled shyly, “Oh.”

The first soft raindrops started to fall from the wide palm fronds above, and Marlena shivered as they landed on her bare shoulders. She was beautiful. John watched the rain land on her skin, and begin the slow descent down her sternum, disappearing between her soft breasts. He lifted his eyes to see Marlena watching him. 

She was right, they were exerting so much energy trying to keep themselves from crossing the line they had already crossed twice. If he was honest with himself, more than twice. John’s warm hands slid up the cool wet skin on her arms slowly, curving around her shoulders, and still her hazel eyes held his imprisoned. A wet tendril of hair fell across her forehead, and he glanced down again. Her nightgown, which had been white, was saturated against her skin. Her nipples peaked beneath the fabric, dusky circles begging for his touch. John’s cock jerked so hard, he moaned in pain. Standing up quickly, he jerked her to her feet, slamming his mouth into hers with a grunt.

Marlena gasped into his mouth, and her fingers scrambled at the slick flesh of his shoulders, as he tipped her back. The coolness of the rain combined with the heat of his mouth was the thing her dreams were made of. Her back bowed, and she moaned in relief, “Oh, G-d, yes!”

Wrenching his lips from hers, he stared at her, breathing hard. The rain water dripped from her lashes, and all he wanted to do was tear her clothing from her body and drive into her moist heat right there on the back lawn. Remembering the cameras back there, he said roughly, “In the house.” 

Marlena’s core clenched, sending delicious waves of pleasure through her limbs. When John reached for her hand, and started to tug her behind him, she stumbled helplessly, tripping over her feet.

John stopped, turning quickly to frame her cheeks in his hands. “I’m done fucking waiting. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly, because she was done waiting too.

She stared up at him with wide arousal blown hazel eyes, and John reached for her hand again, “Our bedroom. Now.”

Chapter 60

Soneva Fushi, Maldives

John’s muscles trembled and fluttered as he pulled Marlena through the house behind him. As much as he tried to avoid the cameras, there was no avoiding the ones in the hallways. There was also no hiding the look of tense arousal on his face, or the wide-eyed, opened mouthed glances Marlena was giving him. What they were about to do wouldn’t be caught on videotape, but the prelude of their walk through the house was enough to know the inevitable outcome. Pushing the bedroom door open, he stopped short when his eyes landed on the photos scattered across the end of the bed. Glossy, black and white photos which forever documented Roman and Rebecca’s infidelity. It was done. It was over. There was nothing more to be said about it.

Marlena’s head rolled back slightly with the force of being tugged into the room. She was a piece of clay, malleable, willing to take whatever shape John wanted, so long as he touched her. She would beg him to touch her. Her back hit the inside of the door when John pushed her against it, and she winced, a slight ache echoing in her spine.

John rested his forehead on hers, breathing hard as his hands gripped her shoulders tightly. “I’m sorry, Doc. I’m sorry…I forgot about your back,” he rasped, trying to control himself. Every impulse within him wanted to take her right then. Yank her wet nightgown up those shapely legs, and push into her scorching heat, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to hurt her.

Marlena’s pussy clenched. The look on John’s face told her he was close to the edge. She had seen him like this once before, in Stockholm. It had been right after her rescue from Orpheus. Bo and Hope, Steve and Kayla, all of them had been so excited to have her back. They’d gone to dinner, and the whole evening there had been glances. She’d felt his hand on her thigh under the table, squeezing her flesh to the point of pain that sent delicious vibrations to her core. His eyes had seemed almost tortured, and when they got to their hotel room, it had been mere minutes before her dress was tugged over her hips, her panties tugged to the side, and he’d pushed his engorged length into her tight core. Marlena could still feel the burn, and the pull. She still craved it. It had been one of the single most erotic encounters of her life. At least it had been.

Her fingers trailed over his forearms, feeling the tremble and the shake in his muscles. She could feel the heat of his cock pressed against her soft abdomen. He wanted her, and if she weren’t still slightly bruised from her encounter with Anthony, John wouldn’t be staring at her like a tortured animal.

Lifting her palm, she brushed the rainwater from his jaw, and she whispered, “Don’t hold back.”

“Doc,” he grunted, pushing his painful cock into the warmth and softness of her belly. “Fuck, Doc…”

She reached out, and traced her finger across his wet chest slowly, and then without warning she dug her fingernails into his flesh enough to sting. John’s eyes closed. “Awwww, fuck!” he cried, rolling his hips into her again.

“Don’t hold back,” she whispered. “I want you. I want all of you.”

He was scared, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She leaned forward, licking across his chest with her hot tongue, and she whispered, “A little pain with you is pleasure.”

John started tugging on the wet linen of her shift, struggling to pull it up her legs, but the fabric was cold and unwieldy. He was desperate to touch her. He was desperate to join their bodies, because in his heart and in his soul he knew that once it was done, he would never let her go. He would fight for her for the rest of his life. He would kill for her. He would kneel at her feet and worship her for the rest of their lives. 

He had to touch her. Without thought, his cold fingers gripped the neckline of her gown, and tore the bodice open. Marlena gasped as her body was tugged forward, and the clatter of buttons sounded across the wood of the floor. Her core clenched again, and she could feel wet heat seeping from her body onto her thighs. John pushed her garment to her elbows, pinning her arms to her sides, and his hot mouth surrounded one of her engorged nipples. Her head fell back, thumping against the door behind her as she cried out, “Oh, G-d! John.”

It was torture and bliss personified. Every tug of his lips sent a shooting sensation through her body. Every swipe of his tongue, and every nip of his teeth, had her whining, and panting. Sharp, high pitched gasps left her body, because she was incapable of words. Suddenly she felt tension enveloping her whole frame. Her pussy throbbed. “John! John…oh, G-d! John! I’m going to come!”

He bit her lip. He bit her neck. He bit the side of her breast hard enough to push her body over the edge. Explosions lit behind her eyes, and her body trembled and shook in his arms. John had never felt such a primal need to be inside a woman, but he felt it then. An animalistic need to push into her, and claim her as his own. His cock throbbed, and he craved the heat he knew would engulf him.

Marlena’s sleepy eyes stared up at him, and he kissed her again. It was untamed. Savage. Fierce. Unyielding. All while pushing her nightgown to the floor. Once freed, Marlena’s fingers scrambled with the tie at his waist. His water-saturated linen pants hit the floor. Staring up at him, barely able to breath, she begged him with one single word, “Please.”

John stepped forward, cupping the back of her thighs with his wide palms, and he lifted her against the wall, pushing her back with his weight. His lips found hers, soft and demanding. His tongue swept over her mouth, licking a path to her very soul. “Doc…oh, G-d, Doc,” he whispered. “I’ve been dying a slow death. Every night when I hold you in my arms, every morning when I wake to those sexy hazel eyes…I wasn’t allowed to touch you.”

He licked a long path up the column of her neck, tasting salt and soap, tasting Marlena. His hips pushed against her, his cock sliding along the folds of her swollen sex. John bit the tender flesh of her collarbone, and Marlena cried out with the sting of it, “More!”

Fingernails scraped across his shoulder, and he couldn’t wait anymore. “I’m sorry, Doc. I’m sorry…I can’t…” He gripped his length in his fist, pulling on it roughly a couple times with a groan of pleasure, and then he lined himself up with her sweet heat, and started to push into her.

He was going slow, trying not to hurt her, but it wasn’t enough. Marlena placed her heels on his lower back, and pulled him forward roughly, burying him inside her completely, as she cried out, “Oh fuck!”

He nearly lost himself right then and there. John buried his face in the curve of her neck, taking in harsh, staggered breaths, “Fuck. Fuck…fuck, baby…are you okay?”

Marlena slid her fingers into John’s thick, silken hair, and she whispered, “Move. If you don’t start moving I will come right now as you lean against me, John Black, I swear it.”

A smirk of satisfaction spread across his face. Lifting his eyes to look at her, he was caught up in her. He pulled out, almost to the point of being completely free of her body, and he pushed back in with a savage thrust, watching her eyes widen. John rested his forehead on hers, his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her backside, and he pulled out pushing in again so hard that he could hear her body thump against the wall. Briefly he thought he might be hurting her, but he was too far gone to stop, and the way her fingers pulled at his hair told him she was an agreeing participant.

Marlena felt her body on the precipice, her pussy aching and throbbing with every movement. She ached, an itch, an urge, a drive, pushing her closer and closer to orgasm. Leaning her face towards John’s ear she whispered, “Harder…I need to feel you John. Please.”

It was when she bit his ear, when she scraped her nails down the line of his neck, that he was lost to everything. Nothing was rendered in his mind but the smell of her, the feel of her, and for a moment, a brief second in time and space, they were one and the same. John’s mouth claimed hers as his body released his seed deep inside her. Marlena screamed when his cock slammed into her cervix, and everything around her momentarily disappeared.

There was no accounting for how much time passed as they caught their breath and returned to their own bodies. It was long enough for John’s cock to soften, and slip from her body. It was long enough for her skin to cool, and cause her to shiver.

John lifted his face from where it had been buried in her neck, and he whispered, “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she replied softly. Her fingers stroked softly over the nape of his neck, feeling the welts left behind from her fingernails. “I hurt you.”

John kissed her lips, noticing the coolness of her skin, “Trust me, Doc, I fucking loved it. But right now, I think I need to get you warmed up in the shower.” He set her feet on the floor, and Marlena’s legs shook with her weight. He smiled, brushing the hair from her forehead, and he slipped his arm around her waist pulling her close. “I love you.”

Marlena stared up at him with sleepy eyes, “I love you.”

Moments later she sighed with pleasure as a hot stream of water sluiced over her skin. Her head rolled, and her eyes closed as she sighed. John watched her with rapt fascination, tracing his fingers over the bite mark he’d left on her neck. Every mark he’d left behind branded her as his, and while he’d never considered himself the possessive type, as he watched her then, he knew she belonged to him. Marlena’s eyes opened, and she reached for his face lovingly, “What are you thinking about?”

“You’re mine,” he told her softly. “I won’t give you up. I won’t walk away from you again. No matter what happens, you are mine, and I…am yours.”

“You promise?” she asked him, and John’s heart fluttered wildly.

“I promise.” He reached for the soap, and after a moment of silence he asked her, “Are you okay…about the photos?”

“I was upset because it brought up a lot for me. It made me remember losing DJ, and how distant Don was afterward. How he blamed me for DJ’s death…and then his affair with Liz. Roman came into my life at a time of great pain, and I thought…I thought he would never try to intentionally hurt me that way, but I was wrong,” she said. Her head rocked forward as John’s wide palms spread suds across her back. It was pink from where she’d been pushed against the wall, but not worse than it had been. 

John’s fingers traced over the faint yellow and green lines left behind from Anthony’s attack, and he felt the guilt rise up inside him again. “You’re back is almost completely healed,” he told her.

“I barely notice it anymore, so I assumed it was.”

“I worried I’d hurt you,” he said, slipping his arms around her waist. The soft skin of her spine slid over his chest, and John felt his body responding to her. 

Marlena pushed her ass back, allowing the crease of her backside to rub against his burgeoning cock. She moaned softly, and she felt his length jerk against her.

“Doc…” he said as a warning. She was teasing him. Her hand reached back, slippery with water and soap, and she wrapped it around his length, sliding him through the crease of her ass. John’s moan rumbled deep in his chest.

Rubbing her thumb over the tip of his cock, she turned to look at him over her shoulder, saying softly, “We can go slow this time.”

John’s cocked bumped against the pucker nestled between her cheeks, and he groaned, pushing against it, “I swear, baby, if we had that oil from Tahiti with us–”

Turning in his arms, Marlena whispered, “I brought it. It’s in the bedroom.”

The muscles in his abdomen clenched, and John reached back, allowing his fingers to bury themselves in her most secret places. He rubbed over her with another groan of want, “You brought it?” 

His finger breached her easily, and Marlena whimpered, pushing back on him, searching for more. He thought of all of the ways he had made love to her when they were married. He’d never been so open or so free with a lover. Not with Diana, or Isabella, or Rebecca. With Marlena there was never a question of what was acceptable, it was only what felt right. He added another finger, and stared down into her mossy eyes. He was met with want. No questions, no unsureness. Only want.

“I want you, John,” she said softly. Her eyes closed briefly, feeling the gentle slide of his fingers in and out of her ass. She pushed back against him, “Oh, G-d…how I want you…”

Chapter 61

Caroline and Shawn Brady Residence

Shawn glanced around himself, confused about where he was. He hadn’t been there in years, but he recognized the flowered curtains blowing in the breeze, and the stone floor on which his bare feet sat. Glancing at his hands he realized that they were free of the age spots, and the wrinkles he had grown accustomed to. Closing his eyes, he smiled as the sound of the wind through the hills and the trickle of water from the nearby stream met his ears. He was at the cottage situated halfway between Ballnacally and Cranny. His heart swelled.

Standing up, intent on going outside and looking around, Shawn jumped in fright as Seraphina tucked through the door carrying an orange striped kitten in her arms. She whispered to it softly before glancing up at him. Her indigo blue eyes lit up, and a smile spread across her heart shaped face, “Shawn.”

His heart swelled. He could feel the tightness in his chest and the roar of his blood in his veins. He’d spent years imagining her dead body buried deep in the ground somewhere, her hair shorn…their unborn child dead in her womb. Never able to break free of the image, he had pushed it away. He’d never been able to escape it, yet she stood in front of him with a warm glow to her olive cheeks, and a bright light in her eyes.

He closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath of the breeze as it blew across his cheek softly. Suddenly he felt warmth near him, and he opened his eyes to see Seraphina in front of him. The kitten was gone from her hands. He was no longer standing, somehow, inextricably he found himself sitting in a straight backed wooden chair. She knelt before him, the heat of her hand soaking through the brown corduroy of his trousers. He couldn’t speak, his words stuck in his throat.

“You are surprised?” she whispered.

Shawn stared at her in awe. She was beautiful. Her spirit shone in a way he seemed to have forgotten with the passing of time. Clearing his throat, he repeated as if he were confused, “Surprised?”

“That I am here…with you?” she asked. 

“A ghra mo chroí [Love of my heart],” he murmured, finally reaching his shaking hand up slowly to touch her cheek. “I am…confused.”

“As you should be!” she laughed. “Dreams are always confusing, don’t you believe that to be true?”

Shawn smiled at her stilted English. How could he love her just as much as he had the day she was torn away from him? An image flashed in his mind. Seraphina kneeling on a cold stone floor, clutching the child within her abdomen. Her hair cut from her head. He suddenly choked on a sob, and scrambled from where he sat, unable to look at her any more. 

“You believe you failed me?” she asked softly. She watched him standing near the window, his head hung in shame. “The guilt consumes you. Yes? Our son is much the same I find. He holds guilt when he should not.”

Shawn looked up at her quickly, but said nothing. 

She approached him, laying her small hand gently on his arm, “My Giovanni Luca. Our son.”

“I failed ye,” he whispered. “I failed both of ye.”

“No,” she said forcefully. “No. You gave me a wonderful love. A love I had never known. A love I would never have known…you gave me our son.”

“I should have searched for ye, Phina. I should have known it was a trick,” he sobbed.

Seraphina wiped the tears that fell from his eyes, “How could you know, tesoro mio [my darling]?” She continued to cup his face. Shawn stared down at her, realizing again that John favored her so much. “He looks like you…the eyes, the nose. I immediately felt a connection to him.”

“You didn’t understand it.” she told him. “Now you do?”

“Yes.” Shawn couldn’t say anything else. The guilt was consuming him, burning him from the inside out. Had he gone after her, maybe everything would have turned out differently.

As if she could see his thoughts, she said, “Everything happened as it should have happened.”

“How can ye say that, Phina? How?” Shawn asked her in a rough, emotion choked voice. His fingers trailed across her cheek.

“Your love, and the moments I had with our son…they made me complete.”

“I don’t understand.”

Seraphina stared up at him, her blue eyes pulling him in, “My existence was sadness and grief. It was pain. With you I knew love. I knew kindness. And many times, our life does not go as planned.” 

Unable to stop himself, Shawn reached for her, pulling her small frame into his arms. She felt fragile, and she smelled familiar. With a sigh he kissed her forehead, while feeling his heart slowly heal.

“You have a wife, and children. They are beautiful.” She was quiet for a moment, and then she whispered, “I harbor no pain. I harbor no anger.”

Shawn pulled back, staring down into her face, “Phina?”

“I loved you…I love you…” she told him, standing on her toes to kiss his lips softly. “You healed me when I thought myself broken. You loved me.” 

Suddenly, she was across the room, standing in a doorway backlit with afternoon sunlight. She held her orange tabby in her arms, stroking its soft fur. Shawn could hear her laugh as she said, “And you gave me Orla.”

Shawn chuckled, “I told ye…the cats a lad. Ye can’t be naming him Orla.”

The last words he heard from her faded on the breeze, “And I told you, Shawn Brady, I will call him what I please.”

Shawn woke with a start, nearly falling from his bed. A fine sheen of sweat lined his brow. Taking in a deep breath, he realized he had tears on his face. It was then that a ragged sob broke free of his chest. He glanced over at Caroline, and started to scramble from the bed. He couldn’t wake her, and even if he did, what would he say?

Caroline reached out quickly, wrapping her hand around Shawn’s wrist before he fled the bedroom. “I’m awake Shawn.”

Shawn choked on his words, “I just need some time, Caroline.”

“Talk to me,” she said. “Please…talk to me.” She pulled at his arm, tugging him back towards her, and she saw the anguish on his face. Ever since the DNA results had come back on John, Shawn had been plagued with dreams. Dreams of Stefano, dreams of his cousins deaths, and dreams of Seraphina crying out for him…suffering. He couldn’t keep running from them.

Shawn laid back down, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, “It was Seraphina.”

“Another nightmare?” she asked him carefully.

Shawn sighed, “No…this time, Caroline…this time it was different…”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Soneva Fushi, Maldives

Marlena sighed in pleasure as she felt the coarse hair of John’s chest along her spine. His fingers, slick with oil slid along the soft curve of her ass, and she pushed her bottom back, urging him on. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and cardamom, bringing back memories of their encounters in Tahiti. Marlena purred like a kitten, pushing her foot down the length of John’s leg. He’d already given her another orgasm in the shower, one hand playing with her clit and the other stretching her bottom, preparing her for what was to come.

John pulled his hand back, his body shaking with tension. Gripping his cock in his hand he reveled in the feel of it sliding along the crease, bumping against her soft pucker. He groaned loudly. Marlena whined, pushing back against his length, and he heard her faint whisper, “John, please.”

He lifted her thigh, moving as close to her as he could. One arm wrapped around her hips, while the other guided his length towards her. Her hips bucked, as he swiped his tip over her bundle of nerves. John smiled, watching her fall apart in his arms, but in truth he wasn’t much better off himself. He shook with arousal, pushing past her ring of muscle, breaching her. A loud groan ripped from his throat, “Fuck!”

Marlena pushed back, allowing John to slip deeper inside her. There was a burn and a stretch that felt so good, she pushed back further, until John stopped her, “Wait, baby. You’ve got to slow down…fuck, you feel so good.”

“John,” she rasped. “I want to feel you…please…”

He pushed deeper inside her with a groan. Marlena’s head fell back, landing on his shoulder. She stared up at him with eyes that seemed a mixture of deep brown and moss, reminding him of the forest. Unable to stop himself he pushed in a little more, watching in fascination as her mouth fell open, and she started panting. Small, breathy pants that heightened his arousal. 

His palm skimmed over her hip, whispering over her ribs, until it cupped her breast. Squeezing her gently, his thumb and index finger pinched at her swollen nipple, pulling and rolling it while she arched into his touch. He slid a little deeper, every nerve in his cock demanding that he push all the way. “Fuck…fuck…” he breathed into her ear. “You’re mine, Doc. Mine. Do you understand?”

“Yes…John…yes!” Marlena pushed back hard, settling her rounded flesh against his pelvis snugly, feeling the ache and burn that came with being full of him. “Oh, G-d!”

“Do you like that, baby?” John asked her, pulling out slightly, only to immediately push back in. His hand slid back over her hip, pulling her thigh up high and back over his. He licked her earlobe, biting at it softly, “You’re still my good little girl, aren’t you?”

“John!” she cried, as a million memories burst behind her eyes. She would always be his good girl. In moments like this she would be whatever he wanted her to be. 

He stroked her thigh, continuing to whisper in her ear, “Has Roman ever fucked your ass, Marlena?” He pulled his cock out halfway, and pushed back in quickly, causing sensation to burst up her spine.

“No!” she cried.

“Has Roman ever spanked this soft bottom?” he asked, squeezing her flesh roughly. 

Marlena’s fingers scrambled for purchase on his arm wrapped around her abdomen as she cried out again, “No!”

“Good,” he murmured, pushing into her deeply. “Because you’re mine. I won’t let you go…do you understand?”

Slipping her arm up behind her, she hooked it around John’s neck, pulling him closer. His heat radiated from the top of her neck to the soles of her feet. Feeling him against the length of her body, his arm tightly holding her, Marlena tugged his mouth to hers, consumed with him. Her tongue sought his out, licked across the seam of his lips with a soft moan, and when John pulled out, thrusting back into her, she screamed into the depths of his mouth, begging for more.

Again and again, he pushed into her welcoming heat. His fingers played in the swollen folds of her pussy, brushing over her clit. The burning fullness she felt with his invasion only served to push her body higher. She wrenched her mouth from his, screaming, “John, I’m coming!”

“Fuck. Fuck…oh, fuck!” John roared, pulling out several times, only to push back in as deep as he could go. His hips pushed against her, the soft welcoming flesh of her ass keeping him from going any further, and he spilled his seed inside her while screaming her name. “Marlena!”

Chapter 62

**Trigger Warning: Brief mention of sexual assault.**

October 1952 

A Small cottage midway between Ballynacally and Cranny, County Clare, Ireland

Shawn Brady, Himself, should be stronger, but the woman in front of him had tapped into every weakness he had. She was graceful. She was kind. She was otherworldly. He watched Seraphina where she sat, cradling the orange tabby kitten he’d given her as if it were the most precious thing she’d ever possessed. It was just a damn cat. He’d found that shabby looking thing, soaked to the bone, and wandering the hills on his way back to the cottage. He’d scooped it up, planning to toss it into the barn. Otherwise the damned thing would die. Somehow, it had managed to find its way to Seraphina’s arms, and Shawn had a feeling, once someone felt the love she offered, they would be hers forever.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, staring at him with big, tear-filled, blue eyes. The pink blush to her wide cheekbones had Shawn’s heart racing. The dress she wore was his sister’s and Seraphina’s small frame nearly swam in it. The curve of her shoulder was almost exposed, and she kept pulling at it.

He turned away quickly, “It’s nothin’. It gets cold in the hills at night. It’d be dead by mornin’ if’n I left it out there.”

Seraphina stroked the cat’s fur, cradling it in her arms as it slept against her bosom. She stared down at it, unable to meet Shawn’s eyes as she tried to find the words she needed. “I had a kitten once, when I first married my husband. I was so sad…and lonely. I found it by the barn. It was very small. I loved it. I doted on it. I fed it scraps. ” She was very quiet for a moment, looking towards the window where there was nothing but the darkness of the new moon. “My husband…he was jealous.”

“Jealous? How the feck can a man be jealous of a cat?”

Seraphina didn’t answer his question, because there was no answer that made sense. Instead she said, “He drowned Gatta in a bucket of water. I–I watched as her limbs jerked.” She sobbed, still stroking the kitten in her arms, “He tossed it at my feet, and he told me…nothing would ever love me as much as he did.”

Shawn had never met her husband. He didn’t even know the man’s name, and Seraphina never spoke it. As if it were a curse that might bring the man down upon them. Shawn didn’t push her. He knew enough. Aremid was a term he would never forget. Aremid was what came into Ireland and destroyed everything it touched.

Standing up quickly, Shawn took the sleeping kitten from her hands, and placed it in a nearby basket of rags. Seraphina looked up at him. Shawn kneeled before her, wiping the hot tears from her cheek where they lay as silent sentinels. He placed his large hands on her knees, wishing he could push them higher, but she wasn’t his to want. He’d been playing a game of cat and mouse with her husband and the people who worked for him for nearly four months, and in that time, his feelings for Seraphina had changed. He’d never admitted it. Not to his cousins, who seemed to constantly find a way to heckle him about, and certainly never to himself…until that moment. Right then, Shawn couldn’t deny he had feelings for her. How could he not?

“Ye don’t have to go back to him, ye know,” Shawn said softly. He took her small hand in his. “Ye could stay…or I could find a safe place for ye.”

“Stay?” she asked, hope growing in her chest for the first time since she was taken from her bed in the dead of night. It hadn’t mattered that Colm and Finn were rough with her that night. It hadn’t mattered that later, Himself had demanded they shove a rag in her mouth to quiet her. Hope had sprung in her heart the moment she was thrown over Finn’s shoulder, and carried from her room. Because she was free.

She felt it again, a small flame that might burst into an inferno, if only Shawn were saying what she thought he was saying. He’d fascinated her since that first night. Gruff, and unbending, but still, the way his eyes held her…there was none of that darkness in his eyes. Not like her husband’s. Shawn’s eyes held warmth. She’d never known a man with skin so pale. His arms, and his face were lined with freckles, and his red gold hair reminded her of hay harvested late in the season. Shawn Brady was a man unto himself, and Seraphina grew more and more enamored with him every day.

Shawn didn’t know what to say, all he did know was that in the span of four months, he’d gone from seeing Seraphina as a form of revenge, and started seeing her as someone who needed protection. She was as much a victim as his family was. He touched her cheek softly, running his fingers across her velvet skin, “I could send ye to America…if ye want.”

Her heart dropped slightly, the shy smile which had lifted the corners of her mouth fell. She wanted to be with him. If he went to America, she would follow. Since she was taken, he’d been spending more and more time with her. He had his excuses, of course, but she felt that it was something more. Quietly, she asked him, “Why you?”

“What do ye mean?” Shawn questioned.

“You have men…family who work for you. Why are they not watching over me? They did before. You came once a week…then every few days. Now we are here. You and me. Why?” she wanted to know.

“Ah, Phina, ye be asking questions I don’t want to be thinkin’ too hard on,” Shawn replied, standing up from where he knelt in front of her. He stared down at the sleeping kitten in the basket, and changed the subject, “What ye be callin’ the thing?”

Seraphina was momentarily confused, until she realized he was speaking of the kitten. “Orla,” she told him.

“Orla?” Shawn laughed. “It’s a boy! Ye can’t be namin’ a boy a lasses name wee one.”

“I will be calling it whatever I please,” she said with an edge of anger. She knew her ire was likely because Shawn had changed the subject so abruptly, refusing to answer her previous question directly. Digging her feet in, she stated, “It’s Orla.”

“Saints preserve us!” Shawn exclaimed with a laugh. “A tom cat named Orla.”

Seraphina smiled, standing up to stroke the soft fur along the kitten’s spine. It curled into itself even tighter, and her mind flashed with the image of her black and white cat being tossed at her feet, lifeless, its fur matted with water. She looked away quickly.

Shawn stepped towards her, “Ye husband, he’s a beast. He’s not a man. No man…not a true man, would ever cause that kind of pain to someone they claim to love.” He lifted the long plait of dark hair from her shoulder, inspecting the red and white gingham she’d tied to the end. With a smirk he said, “I be believin’ that you tore the corner from my Mhamós [grandmothers] tablecloth.”

In jest, Seraphina replied with a thick Irish brogue, “I be believin’ that I needed sometin’ to tie me hair off with.”

Shawn’s head fell back with a roar of laughter, and he wrapped his arms around her, spinning her in a circle. “I swear on me life, Phina, ye make me laugh!” Setting her down, his eyes caught hers, and his breath stuttered in his chest. She was beautiful. Of course, he’d noticed, but in that moment, she was something else. She was more. He’d never been in love before. Sure he’d had women, he was a red blooded Irish man after all, but something about Seraphina right then, caused his heart to seize momentarily. Shawn felt…it was something close to love. Maybe it was love. 

She couldn’t look away. Shawn’s warm breath wafted across her lips. He was so close, she was certain he could feel the thumping of her heart in her chest. Surely he could see the raging pump of her pulse in her neck. The only man who had ever kissed her was her husband. It had been a forceful, wet, passionless affair on her part. Whenever the memories came to her they were gray and cold, something she hated, but staring up at Shawn’s lips she wondered if perhaps, it couldn’t be more. “Shawn?”

Her fingers brushed his jaw, tracing over his lips softly. He saw something in her eyes. Curiosity? All he could manage to reply was, “Eh?’

Her stomach fluttered with nervousness, “Would you kiss me? I–I want to know what it feels like.”

He was confused for a second, and then like a lead weight in his gut, he knew why she was asking. She’d been kissed before, but it had never been one she wanted. “Ye want me to kiss ye? Ye sure about that, Phina? Because, I’m thinking it might be hard for me to stop, once I’ve started.”

Images of her husband forcing his dry, painful length into her body almost made her pull away. She whispered, “Just a kiss.”

Shawn saw the pain pass through her eyes, and he brushed a tendril of hair from her cheek, “Just a kiss?” His large palm cupped her face, and he leaned forward, brushing his warm lips over hers. His mouth nibbled at her lips, licked softly over her. Seraphina sighed into him, and he rubbed his nose alongside hers. He felt his body responding, which caused him to pull back, releasing her quickly. 

He stepped away, placing at least a foot of distance between them. She stood dazed, staring up at him, missing the heat of his body against hers. That was a kiss? In a span of a few short moments, memories that were cold and terror filled, were replaced with softness and warmth. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she found herself unsure. She wanted more. She wanted his hands in her hair, and his lips on hers. She wanted more, but she wasn’t even sure what more was, because all she knew was pain, and force, and anger pushing her down into a mattress. All she knew was the burning, stinging, tearing of flesh that came with ‘love’.

He saw the question in her eyes. She didn’t know what it meant to be loved. He wanted to give her that. “I can show ye,” Shawn whispered, tracing his fingers across her exposed collarbone.

Seraphina’s eyes widened. He knew what she was thinking. He could read it plain on her face. What she wanted, and what she feared. He wouldn’t force her. He wasn’t like the man she’d married. Blue eyes caught blue, and she whispered, “I’m scared.”

His fingers were soft, eliciting feelings she’d never had before. He asked her, “What do ye want right now?”

Unsure of herself, she wasn’t sure what to say. She only knew, she wanted him to kiss her again. She stepped closer, reaching up to touch his lips. There was magic there, and she wanted more of it. A gentle throb she didn’t understand had started between her legs. Her breasts felt tight and achy. “Kiss me again?”

Shawn reached for her, tugging her up against him again. He almost groaned with relief at the feel of her. “Another kiss, ye say? I think I can manage it.”

Her world spun on its axis. What was outside became inside, and she moaned into his mouth. The shock of his warm tongue as it stroked tentatively alongside hers, caused the ache in her center to grow. It throbbed almost painfully, and she didn’t understand it. Maybe she didn’t need to. All she knew was that whatever it was, whatever was growing within her, she didn’t want it to stop. 

Shawn stopped moving. His cock so hard, he thought one thrust against her, and he might lose himself all over the inside of his trousers. He started to step back, but Seraphina’s fingers laced into his hair, holding him to her, “Don’t stop.”

“Phina,” he rasped. “I don’t have the strength to keep meself from wanting more.”

“I want more…I don’t understand it, but I want…” She looked away, a deep blush warming her cheeks. “I feel…something…and I want to feel it. Show me, Shawn. Please, show me, and I will live on the memories for all of my days.”

His mouth came down on hers a little harder than before. He groaned into her mouth, licking over her again and again. Her movements were clumsy, unschooled, and something about them drove him mad for more. Pulling the gingham from her braid, Shawn watched himself comb his fingers through the length of her hair. He’d never seen her with her hair loose, and suddenly he could move fast enough, spreading the black hair across her shoulder.

“Ye sure?” he asked her, drawing in a shaky breath. 

Even scared and unsure, she stared at him with conviction, “I’m sure, Shawn.”

His fingers trembled with the tiny buttons on her bodice, and his breath caught in his chest when his palms spread wide across the flesh at the top of her breasts. She was beautiful. She was innocent…and he knew he was already half in love with her from the moment her fiery eyes met his that first night. 

Seraphina shivered with want, an emotion she was unfamiliar with, as Shawn’s calloused palms smoothed over her shoulders, pushing her dress to her waist. It hung there loosely after she pulled her arms free. The ache inside her had grown to proportions she didn’t understand. “Between my legs…it aches, Shawn.”

His cock jerked at her innocent words. She knew nothing of the feelings she was having. Pushing her dress to the floor, he tugged her shift up her legs, reaching into the cleft between them. Seraphina gasped, almost instinctively ready to pull away, when Shawn whispered, “I would never hurt ye, but I will make ye feel so good wee one. So fecking good.” His fingers slid past the waistband of her panties, pushing down through the softest curls he’d ever felt. He almost groaned. Her pussy was hot and wet, and his mind conjured images that would forever brand his soul.

Her hips lurched when his fingers brushed over her sex. In confusion she gripped his arm, “Shawn…Shawn…” A surge of emotion and sensation swept through her. When her husband touched her, she was dry and it was painful, but Shawn’s fingers slipped through her swollen folds easily. “I feel something…”

He flicked his finger over her clit, rolling it in circles. He tortured it, watching Seraphina cry out her pleasure. Pulling his hand back, just as she sat at the edge of orgasm, she watched him with wide eyes as he licked her arousal from his finger. Her muscles trembled, her hands shook, and her legs felt weak. She wanted more.

As he unbuttoned the green flannel across his chest, he watched her slowly lift her shift over her head. She dropped it to the floor beside her. Her dark hair lay in tangles around her shoulders. Shawn stared at her small frame, a simple white bra and a cotton pair of white panties, innocence personified, and all he could think of was stripping them from her body, and laying her bare on the bed. His shirt landed on the floor beside their feet, and within moments he had what he wanted, her naked body against his.

Seraphina rested against Shawn in the bed. Staring at his engorged cock, where it lay against his abdomen, she tentatively reached out, the tip of her finger lightly running up the length of him. Shawn shivered. Unable to stand it, he pulled her hand from him, and he rolled her onto her back. Her eyes went wide with fear, and instantly he stopped. Releasing her, he rolled onto his back, and then he reached for her murmuring softly, “Straddle me hips.”

She felt like she fell in love with him right then. She would do whatever he wished. Seraphina settled herself over him, feeling a surge of emotions. It was power. It was control. It was love. She could feel his cock bump her sex, sensations overwhelming her, “Oh!” 

“Up on your knees, mo stoirín [little darling].” He gripped his cock while staring up at her, and swept the tip through her wetness, intentionally bumping her clit. Seraphina’s eyes went wide, staring down at what he was doing to her. Her hips bucked involuntarily, and Shawn smiled. He barely had the restraint he needed, but he wouldn’t rush this. He wouldn’t hurt her again, because she’d been hurt far too much in her life. His palm caressed her hip. Laying his length flat against his abdomen, he said roughly, “Settle yerself on me.”

Her palms rested on Shawn’s chest, and she lowered herself down with a soft sigh, feeling his length nestle along the crease of her sex. Shawn rolled his hips, sliding through her folds, and he groaned loudly. The ache inside her started to grow again, and tentatively she slid against him, adding pressure at the front, “Oh…Shawn…”

His palms cupped her breasts, sweeping his thumbs over the raised nipples. Everything was new for her, he could sense it. She might be married, and she might have had sex with her husband repeatedly, but Seraphina knew nothing of love, or kindness, or gentleness. “C’mere,” he said roughly. “I want my mouth on ye.”

The feel of Shawn’s tongue lapping across her nipples, and the continued slow glide of his length through her folds, had Seraphina ready to break. It was tension, rising so high she thought she would scream. She whispered, “I need…Dio santo! [Oh my G-d!] Shawn, I need something!”

“Lift up wee one.” Seraphina lifted herself, and felt the bob of his cock against her. She whined, closing her eyes. Her body was reaching for something she didn’t understand. Shawn held himself steady with a shaky hand, “Lower yerself on me. Let me slide into ye.”

“I’m scared,” she whispered. Her body was stuck in limbo. The sweetness of love, held back by the fear of memories. Memories of dark eyes, and savage hands on her body assaulted her. Tears filled her eyes as she whispered, “It hurts…”

“Ah…no, Seraphina…mo mhuirnín [my sweetheart]. I would never hurt you. It feels like heaven on earth. I will make you see the stars,” he told her sweetly. “Just let me slide into that sweet heat, and I promise you will see the heavens.”

Shawn rubbed the tip of his cock over her clit, back and forth, and she gasped, sinking down onto him. He slid in easily, filling her up. His hips bucked against her, “Awww, feck, yer tight…sit on me…yeah, just like that. Let yer body adjust to me.”

She was panting, small gasps. Words jumbled in her mind until she cried out, “What is this?”

Shawn laughed, placing his hands on her hips. She was gorgeous, an angel from On High. Her black hair flowed around her. He stared up at her in awe and realized he loved her. He was in love with her. Lifting her slightly, he pulled his length out and pushed back into her deeply. Seraphina shouted, “Dio santo! Dio santo!”

He felt the squeeze and pull of her sex, the muscles rippling along his length. She was close. Shawn sat up, wrapping his arms around her waist, and he whispered, “I’m gonna lay ye on yer back now.” With wide eyes she nodded her ascension. He rolled them over, bracing his body above hers, and he kissed her softly. His tongue licked over her soft lips. His hips rolled, and his thrusts became faster, deeper, and then she exploded around him, and he was gone. Shawn watched her eyes go wide, and she stared right into his soul. There was no way he was ever going to willingly let her go.

Seraphina had never felt such pleasure in her life. Just as Shawn had promised, she saw the stars and the heavens. They lit up behind her lids, as she experienced the first orgasm of her life. Tears slid from her eyes, and Shawn Brady kissed them from her cheeks, murmuring over and over again, “Mo grá. Mo grá. [My love. My love.]”

Chapter 63

Salem Police Department

Shane sighed in frustration. Stefano’s island in French Polynesia had been completely deserted. Slamming his fist on the map spread out before them, he muttered,  “Someone tipped him off. Possibly our contact Celeste Perrault.”

“I’m inclined to agree, partner. But why? Why would she help us find Maison Blanche, and Hope, only to turn around and warn Stefano we were on to him?” Abe wanted to know.

“Finding that information in Stefano’s secret office is the only way we knew the location of Nukutepipi,” Bo interjected.

“I’m not sure…remember, she was quite cryptic with most of her information. It could be a ploy on Stefano’s part. He could have sent her to us,” Abe told them. 

Bo sighed, “I don’t think so. I don’t think Stefano would give up Hope without a fight, but Celeste might be playing both sides right now. We can’t be sure if she’s trustworthy.”

“What we do know is that they are no longer in Tahiti, and we’ve gotten no other clues which might lead us in the right direction. We’re at a standstill.” Shane looked at the other two men with him, “So do you two gentlemen have any suggestions?”

Bo leaned forward, resting his palms on the table in front of him. Celeste Perrault was a wild card for sure, but he had a strong feeling there were other people at play in the game, and maybe, just maybe, Stefano wasn’t aware. “I think Celeste is playing both sides, but I think Stefano doesn’t know it.” Shane and Abe looked at him, waiting for him to say more. “I think,” Bo said. “I think us finding Maison Blanche and Hope came as a complete surprise to him. A move in the game that he wasn’t expecting. We haven’t received another clue, because Stefano had to move them somewhere unplanned. He had to move his pieces because his opponent’s move wasn’t anticipated.”

“It’s possible…it would explain why Stefano hasn’t found some way to taunt us, or further torture Roman.” Abe stood up straight, stretching his back. “Whatever the reason, we’re not going to find the answers right now.” He glanced at the clock on the wall, “And I promised Lexie I’d be home for dinner.”

Shane looked over at the clock, “Bloody hell! I told Kimberly I would help her get Andrew ready for his Pilgrim program, although I have no idea why we’re celebrating the Pilgrims.”

Bo laughed, slapping Shane on the shoulder. “Let’s go. There’s nothing here that won’t hold until tomorrow. I’m going to head over to the hospital and check on Roman.”

“When’s he being released?” Abe asked.

Bo sighed, “Probably as soon as his mental health is evaluated. Dr. Horton is concerned.”

“Partner, we’re all concerned. Did someone…did someone get the house straightened up?”

“The carpet was a loss. Me, Pop, and Shane changed it out last night. We tried to save some of the photos that the glass didn’t destroy, but the frames had to be thrown out,” Bo told him. “Roman…man, Abe, he destroyed everything that belonged to Marlena. Everything. Her clothes, her photos, mementos. He shredded photos of her and her sister, and I don’t know if there are copies. I worry…I worry what he might have done if she were home.”

“Roman’s not violent!” Abe said. “We know that.”

Shane didn’t say anything, but Bo said, “I would have agreed with you before this happened. I would have agreed with you.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Soneva Fushi, Maldives

Marlena stared up at the sunlight filtering through the palm fronds above her. The light flickered across her face, sometimes shining in her eyes. She was laying on a blanket she’d found in a closet. It was clean, although it had the smell of something which had been hidden away for several years. It wasn’t a bad smell, it was a culmination of cedar and mustiness. She glanced over at John laying beside her. His eyes were closed, and his arm was laying across his forehead.

They had just finished another meal which had been dropped in the living room. Both of them avoided that room for different reasons. For John, the blood stains on the carpet and the sofa were a reminder of one of the worst days of his life. For Marlena, it was a reminder of the time she had spent pretending to be a mother to someone else’s children, while constantly worried about the fate of her own. Snatching up the food, they’d immediately gone outside to bask in the afternoon sun. 

She reached for his free hand, caressing the flesh on the top with her index finger. John could feel the soft trace of her finger, and it brought a calmness he needed. Being on Orpheus’s island had him feeling unstable. He’d felt unstable in Tahiti, and Gauley Valley, but in those places he’d been able to reassure himself that it was all part of Stefano’s game. Being on Orpheus’s island made him wary. It had him questioning everything he thought he knew. He was on edge, fearing for his own life, but also fearing that Marlena might be hurt again or taken from him. The feeling of impotence was weighing down his very soul. He still hadn’t forgiven himself for what Anthony had done to Marlena.

Marlena lifted herself on her elbow, staring down as John’s beautiful face bathed in sunlight and shadows. “I was thinking…” she said carefully. “About when Orpheus came into our lives.”

John opened his eyes, staring up at her. She was gorgeous. Her hair was longer, and because she hadn’t had it trimmed, thick honey colored layers, framed her face in soft curls. He’d come to love the freshness of her face without makeup, and the way the sunlight sparkled on her eyelashes. The way the tiny lines at the corners of her eyes bunched up when she laughed. He had fallen more in love with her than he could ever remember being, and being able to express that love…allowing themselves to touch each other, and demonstrate how much they cared for each other, it was another connection. It was a connection he hadn’t fully realized they needed, until those photos arrived and they had given in completely. They would survive, or they might never make it out of this, but John wouldn’t waste another moment with Marlena, fighting against their instincts.

“Orpheus, huh?” John said softly. “I suppose being here, we can’t help but think about him.”

“Roman accidentally killed Rebecca Harp in 1979, and I wonder…if he was so filled with a need for revenge…why did he wait until 1986?” Marlena’s mind was working, the gears were turning, John could tell. She said, “I was thinking, what if Orpheus was somehow targeted and manipulated by Stefano? What if he was quietly living his life, raising his children, and somehow he was pulled into Stefano’s game…an unwitting chess piece…another pawn.”

“It’s an interesting hypothesis, and it makes sense. It actually makes a lot of sense, and it would explain how you ended up with Stefano after your plane crashed in Florida,” John replied. “I’ve been thinking about how my memories have returned since Dr. Rolf took the device out of my neck. It’s possible that the same thing was done to Milo Harp. It’s possible…”

“If you were sent to Salem to wreak havoc with the Brady’s and disrupt their lives, as part of a revenge plot of Stefano’s…but it didn’t work out exactly like Stefano planned. You fell in love with your ‘mark’ I guess. You settled into a life of domesticity, which wasn’t what Stefano had planned at all,” Marlena told him, stroking her fingers over the cotton of his white t-shirt. “He would look for alternative ways to create that chaos, wouldn’t he? Milo Harp would be a way to do that. I don’t believe that Orpheus was a random accident.”

John stared into the canopy above, watching the palm fronds sway in the early afternoon breeze, “I don’t understand my role. I understand why Stefano hates me. In his sick, twisted mind, I am nothing more than evidence of his wife’s infidelity.”

Marlena laid back down on the blanket, reaching out her hand so she could touch John’s arm, “His narcissism runs so deep, he might not even recognize why he despises you. Seraphina wasn’t a wife to him. She was a possession. Stefano doesn’t understand love as you and I do. You and I recognize that love is a partnership. There is a give and take in love that only works if it’s done freely. What Stefano calls love is actually possessiveness and infatuation. He expects that whoever he loves will shower him with praise and accolades. They will be eternally grateful that he loves them, but there is a price. Seraphina broke the rules…”

“Broke the rules?” John asked, turning to face her. His cheek rested on his arm. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

Marlena dove into her psychological analysis with enthusiasm, “For Stefano, there could be no one else. There could be nothing else. Seraphina would have been expected to dote on him. He would have thrived if she was reminding him daily of how much he meant to her, thanking him for saving her… thanking him for her clothing, for her jewels. He would have wanted her to be a pretty piece on his arm, but he wouldn’t want her to be anything but an ornament. His narcissism would make his ego too fragile for anything else.” Marlena’s mind never failed to leave John in awe. “If she started to make demands, or if she were unhappy… if she found joy in anything besides him he would likely turn on her in an instant.”

“I know she loved me,” John told her. “I spent my childhood being told stories about my mother. Papi made sure I knew that she loved me. I never doubted that. I just don’t understand what my role was with the Brady’s…with Roman. Why would Stefano pull me into this vendetta he has with Roman?”

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” Marlena said, sitting up on the blanket cross legged. Leaning back on her palms, she gazed down at John, “What if you do…have something to do with Stefano’s vendetta against the Brady’s?”

John’s eyes got wide in confusion. Where was she going with this? He rolled to his side, sitting up in front of her, crossing his own legs. “Okay…”

“You were born in Ireland, according to Luca,” Marlena said softly. “You were born at the end of June 1958–”

“June 28, 1958,” John replied.

“Shawn…Shawn came to the United States in June of 1958, from Ireland. He never talks about it, you know that. His past in Ireland is a mystery to all of us, although I feel like Caroline knows more. What if Stefano’s vendetta isn’t with Roman? What if Roman is just a target in Stefano’s vendetta against Shawn?” Marlena asked him, staring into John’s deep blue eyes. “What if it’s never been about Roman?”

John’s mind was whirling, “What?”

“I mean, think about it, honey,” Marlena said, growing more secure in her idea. “What if, somehow, Shawn became entangled with Stefano in Ireland? Did Luca ever say who your father was?”

John’s hand trembled as he pushed his fingers through his hair, “No. No, he only said it wasn’t her husband, l’uomo malvagio…the evil man…Stefano. What are you thinking, Doc?” He felt his muscles in his abdomen start to tremble with nervousness. He needed her to say it. He needed to feel like he wasn’t losing his mind.

“I think Shawn might be your father,” Marlena said softly. “It would make all of the pieces fit. It would explain so much. Stefano hasn’t been after Roman all of this time, he’s been targeting Shawn. You truly are a pawn, just as much as Roman is. I believe that, in Stefano’s chess game, Shawn Brady is the opposing king.”

“Doc…” John tried to speak, but he couldn’t find the words. A tear slipped from his eye, and slid down his cheek, as he stared at her helplessly. “If that’s true…” he rasped. Still struggling to speak, he whispered, “…then…I have a family, and the twinners…Carrie…”

“You have a family, John…you’ve always had a family,” she told him, cupping his face.

“But I have…they can’t be taken away from me, because I could be…”

“You could be their uncle, John.”

He shook, “I’m scared to believe it, but it makes so much sense. It feels right…and if it was Shawn, if Shawn is my father, there’s peace in knowing he loved her. He loved my mother. He would have loved her so much.”

On the other side of the island, near the airfield, Mason stared at the monitor in front of him, not even realizing that he was crying. He watched as John pulled Marlena into his arms, kissing her neck softly, and Mason wondered if he would ever feel anything like that in his life.

Chapter 64

Soneva Fushi, Maldives

Dante poked his head around the door in the monitor room, finding Mason exactly where he thought he would find him. In Dante’s opinion Mason had always been odd, but he’d heard rumors that Mason was one of the old guard. The mercenaries who’d found themselves at odds with Stefano at some point in their life. The ones who’d been recruited. Dante knew they weren’t recruited. Recruited was just a nicer way of saying stolen, kidnapped, or forcefully borrowed. They certainly weren’t willing. Before becoming Stefano’s mercenary, Mason had another life. That was taken from him. As far as Dante knew, Mason remembered nothing before his time with DiMera. 

Dante was different, because he was a volunteer. He was discharged from the Army with a DD214 that said “other than honorable”. That one phrase severely limited his options. He was a grunt. That’s all he was trained for. The problem was, he’d fucked up. Apparently getting drunk and having sex was a crime, at least in the civilian court system. He didn’t know the girl was fifteen. She’d been in a 21 and older club with a fake ID. She’d also been too drunk to consent according to the court system. He was tried and convicted, and then the military told him goodbye. His skills weren’t unrecognized though. Within two weeks he was approached by an associate of Stefano DiMera. Training as a Ranger was a skill they could use, he’d been told. 

Dante watched Mason for a moment. The man stared at the bay of monitors in front of him, unblinking. Clearing his throat, Dante said, “Everytime you go missing, I find you in here.”

Mason stared at Dante with hard eyes. The longer they were there, the more irritating he became. “And how the fuck else are we going to know what they are up to? If they escape, we’re dead.”

“Where are they going to go?” Dante asked with little interest. He didn’t understand what Mason was so worried about. They had no way off of the island. “I mean we’ve got them locked in the compound, and there’s no way out without tripping the alarm.”

Mason stared at Dante as if he were ignorant, “You obviously haven’t been around long enough to know what John Black is capable of.”

Just like Mason, Dante had heard rumors about John Black, but he’d never paid it much mind. The John Black locked in the compound wasn’t the same mercenary he used to be. 

Dante was irritated, feeling spoken to as if he were a child. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked. He didn’t like the insinuation. From what he’d seen over the last few months, John Black was a boring, love-sick, businessman, and nothing more. He certainly wasn’t this monolithe of a man he’d been built up to be through rumor.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Never assume. If John Black finds a way to safely escape with Marlena, he will. Nothing will stop him. The only thing holding him here right now is his love for her,” Mason told him, gesturing at the screen in front of him. 

Marlena was reading a novel on a blanket under the palm tree, and John was doing a series of push-ups, before switching back to sit-ups. It was a work out routine Mason was familiar with. Dante was too. Mason wondered if John even realized where he’d learned it…as part of Stefano’s mercenary training.

Love. Dante snorted with derision, “Which means he’s fucking weak.”

“You think he’s here because he’s weak?” Mason asked. It seemed that Stefano’s arrogance was rubbing off on Dante. “Stefano wouldn’t bother to waste resources on someone he didn’t see as a potential threat. You’re an idiot.”

Mason knew that the only reason John was still in DiMera’s clutches was to protect Marlena. He couldn’t safely escape with her, so he chose to stay and protect her. If Mason was right in his assumption, John had walked into Stefano’s trap willingly with his eyes wide open nearly three months ago. John knew he would be stuck, and he knew he would be emotionally tortured and manipulated for the entirety, and yet he chose it. He chose it, because as Mason watched him on the screen, John sat up, and stared at the women across the lawn as if he lived only for her.

Marlena felt John’s gaze, and she glanced up with a smile, staring back at John. A shy smile crossed her face, “What?”

“Nothing, baby…sometimes I just like to look at you,” John said softly. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

Marlena replied softly, “Thank you.”

Dante watched the screen, and then sneered, “See? Fucking weak. Sorry, Mason, I’m not a member of the John Black fan club. Being in love with her will hold him back. It could very well lead to his death.” 

Mason ignored the other man as he slipped from the room. He continued to watch the two people on the screen, wishing for something. He couldn’t be sure what it was, but it was something that tugged at his mind and came to him in fragments and flashes. Bits of memory. Tatters of emotion. 

John stood up, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He walked towards where Marlena lay, and fell onto the blanket beside her, “Hey, Doc.”

“Hey, sexy,” she replied, marking her page, and setting her book to the side. 

“Sexy? Hmmm, I like the sound of that,” John growled, leaning down to take a bite at her shoulder. Marlena shivered feeling the swipe of his tongue over the skin he’d just nipped. With a smile, he rolled onto his back, placing his hands behind his head. “I had another memory.”

“You did?” she asked him. “Was it a clear memory, like the others?”

“It was very clear. I was young, eight…maybe nine. I’d begged my Papi to take me out on the boat. I wanted so badly to be with him during school holidays, but the boat could be dangerous, and he was distracted. He didn’t feel it was safe, but still I begged him, and wore him down.” John closed his eyes, enjoying the fragrant breeze on his hot skin. “I wasn’t paying attention, and I tripped on a net he’d had rolled up. It wasn’t a large boat. More like a skiff. I fell overboard, and even though I was a good swimmer, I was in shock at first, and managed to gulp down a fair amount of seawater, before he grabbed me by my shirt, and pulled me back into the boat.”

“So, you’re not a natural sailor?” she asked with a teasing smile.

“Hey! I got better,” he laughed. “By the time I was sixteen I was taking the boat out on my own if Papi was sick. I grew some sea legs, but I was a clumsy, gangly kid. All long legs, and big hands. My eyes and my nose were too large for my face.”

“No!” Marlena tried to imagine John as a child, big blue eyes that took up most of his face. She could imagine having a son who looked like that. 

Mason continued to stare at the monitor in front of him completely sightless, as another memory took control of his mind.

“Ti avevo detto di stare attento! [I told you to be careful!]” Luca said, wiping the water from Giovanni’s face. The boy’s eyes were wide with fear, as he coughed up the seawater he must have inhaled. 

Giovanni fell against him, wetting his clothes, as he cried, “Ero così spaventato. Pensavo che sarei morto! [I was so scared. I thought I would die!]”

Luca’s large hands pushed Giovanni’s wet hair from his face, “Permetterei che mio figlio muoia? Mai! [Would I allow my boy to die? Never!]” He thought of Seraphina, and stared at the child she had entrusted to his care. No, he couldn’t allow any harm to come to him. Not if he could help it.

Mason’s eyes went wide. He remembered that moment. The one John was telling Marlena about. He remembered the smell of the water, and his fear. He remembered the coolness of the water as it soaked his shirt. He stood up quickly, “Fuck!”

These memories were becoming more and more frequent. They were also becoming more difficult to ignore. With them came emotions he didn’t fully understand, and he found it harder to follow Stefano’s orders. He’d been keeping his distance from John and Marlena for this very reason. Being near them was difficult. 

His fingers laced through his hair, gripping it tightly, pulling at it slightly. He had to make it stop, but almost immediately he fell into the wall, as another memory came over him. He leaned against it, breathing heavily, and then slid down until he sat on the cool stone floor.

“I had a baby once,” Seraphina whispered to Mason. “I was–I was in danger, and so was my son…so I gave him to my brother for safekeeping.”

Mason stared at her, unsure of why she was telling him this, but Seraphina was a bit odd. She told him things all of the time that he didn’t fully understand. He listened. He knew about her family, her brothers and sisters. He knew about the sheep she missed, and the lazy days she’d spend in the hills with them. He knew about her mother, the kind woman that she was. He listened, because what else was there to do? Stefano had him there watching this woman waste away locked in a drafty stone estate. 

Mason stared at the monitors on the wall above him, and he turned his face away. He wanted it to stop. As long as he could remember, emotions were foreign things he didn’t understand. Now he was getting flashes and images with feelings he didn’t welcome or comprehend. 

Seraphina’s voice echoed in his mind…

“My brother, his name was Luca. He was the oldest in our family. I loved him,” she said softly. “He was angry when our Papi sent me away, and married me off to a cruel man.”

Mason wondered if she was talking about Stefano, or if she had somehow gotten caught up in something else that would have her sitting before him. 

She tried to smile, but there was no emotion behind it, “My Papi…he sold me. He said that was not the way of it. A father had the responsibility of choosing a husband for his daughter, but I know the truth. I was sold…for pittance, I was sold.”

Forcing himself up from the floor, Mason left the room. He was out of the building and into the heat of the jungle in minutes. Dante watched from the shadows of the palm trees, as Mason sped towards the beach, running as if fate and death were chasing him down. Whatever it was, Dante didn’t care. All he cared about was doing his job, and rising in the ranks of Stefano DiMera’s organization, and after losing Anthony, that was a real possibility.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Victor Kiriakis Mansion

“Mrs. Black?” Janet asked tentatively, holding a manila envelope in her hand. Rebecca Black scared her to death. The woman had a way about her that was equivalent to a stay away sign. 

Rebecca looked up from the legal brief she was reading in annoyance, “Yes, Janet?”

“This envelope came in the mail for you today. The postmark looks like it came from Europe,” Janet said softly.

Rebecca stared at the maid for a moment before saying, “Are you in the habit of checking the postmarks on people’s mail, Janet?”

“No, ma’am, I’m sorry,” she replied before scurrying from the room.

Rebecca sighed in frustration. Staying at Victor’s house was getting tedious. She’d believed when she came to Salem it would be a matter of weeks, and yet she was still there. She slipped her finger under the flap of the manila envelope, while muttering, “It’s time to move on with my life.” A stack of black and white photos slid into her palm, catching her off guard, and she whispered, “Shit.” 

What else was there to say? If Stefano was sending her those photos, she could be certain he’d already provided copies to John and Marlena. Rebecca had been putting off her divorce from John. There was a part of her that believed maybe there was still a chance for them, but as she glanced over the last photo in the stack, she knew it wasn’t possible. Roman’s fingers dug into her flesh. Her head had fallen back onto his chest where he held her against him. She could close her eyes and remember the feeling of his grip on her. Rebecca’s heart started to pound a little faster. 

She shook her head, shoving the photos back into the envelope. She should not be getting turned on by them. Reaching for her briefcase, she dropped the photos, as well as the legal brief inside, and locked it for good measure. She was about to file for divorce pro se. John wouldn’t even need to be available if she filed for abandonment. 

Telling Roman about the baby was going to have to happen soon. Possibly that afternoon. He’d been released from the hospital the evening before, and she couldn’t continue to keep it from him. Then there was the matter of finding an apartment, or possibly going home to Michigan. Her parents were still living in Fife Lake, and her childhood there had been a good one. Rebecca smirked, thinking about how fast she ran from the small town when she’d reached adulthood, and there she was thinking about returning. Laying her palm on her abdomen, she thought, maybe a childhood in Fife Lake wouldn’t be so bad for her child.

Glancing over at the large grandfather clock, she sighed. It was barely past lunch time. “No time like the present,” she muttered. Taking her briefcase with her, because she didn’t trust Victor’s staff, Rebecca left the house intent on telling Roman he was about to become a father again.

Chapter 65

Salem Police Department, Abe Carver’s Office

Staring at the nondescript manila envelope in his hand Abe knew, even without opening it, that it was another clue from Stefano. John had been missing for three months. Marlena had been missing for nearly four. Abe had wondered why, after the compound on Nukutepipi was abandoned, they hadn’t received a clue. He had begun to suspect that Bo’s hypothesis was correct. Stefano’s plans had been interrupted when Shane and Bo found Maison Blanche. Stefano was usually very methodical. Something about this felt disjointed.

Abe glanced up, when his door was thrown wide. He wasn’t surprised to see Bo standing there. Anyone else would knock. “Hey, man,” Bo said casually. He started to walk towards the chair near Abe’s desk, where Abe could already picture him leaning back and putting his feet on the desk. Bo was intent on doing that, until he caught sight of the package in Abe’s hand. “Is that what I think it is?’

Sighing, Abe replied, “I think so, buddy…it’s a videocassette by the feel of it.” He started to tear at the paper as he walked towards the small television in the corner. Within moments of sliding it into the VCR, the video began to play. 

Bo stared at it, his forehead wrinkled with confusion, “That’s Marlena, but that’s not recent.”

It was immediate. He’d seen this before. “I know where they are,” Abe said, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know the location exactly, but I can almost guarantee Shane will. I know for sure that John and Marlena have been there before…I just don’t understand why.”

Bo continued to stare at the screen. Marlena sat on a white bench in a garden. The wind blew her hair softly, and she had a vibrant yellow hibiscus tucked behind her ear. It was familiar, and then he realized why. “Orpheus, “ he whispered. “That’s where they are isn’t it? Orpheus’s island?”

“I’m pretty sure, partner. I can’t imagine any other reason he would send this.”

“Maybe he’s stashed them somewhere else, and this is just a way to drag us off course?”

Abe sighed, “Maybe…but I don’t think it is. Stefano’s been fairly consistent with his clues. He enjoys the hunt.”

“I was right though, Abe. He’s stashed them on Orpheus’s island, because we caught him off guard. Because we’re catching up to him,” Bo said with a grin. He felt they were getting closer. Close enough to throw Stefano off balance, and while Bo hadn’t been very vocal about it yet, he would get his revenge on Stefano DiMera.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Marlena and Roman Brady Residence

Now that she found herself standing in front of Roman’s house, Rebecca wasn’t so sure she would be able to do this. She’d just left the court house, filing for divorce pro se. Some people might see what she’d done as heedless to John’s needs, but after several days of contemplation, she saw it as releasing him. He wanted Marlena, so she was letting him go. It might seem harsh, but to her it was pragmatic. When John returned, and she had no doubt that he would, she refused to be on the losing end of a conversation where John said something cliche like, it’s not you, it’s me. No. Filing for divorce saved them the pain and the heartache. It saved Rebecca from having to be told that she wasn’t good enough. She’d taken the decision out of John’s hands.

She raised her hand to knock, wondering if she loved John, or if she loved the conquest? If she loved him, wouldn’t she be feeling loss? She didn’t. In fact, she felt something akin to relief. Was everything in her life about the challenge? Was it always going to be that way? Her palm softly caressed her abdomen, and she realized that even the night she had slept with Roman there had been more going on for her emotionally. She was angry and hurt over the possibility that John had slept with Marlena, although learning that he hadn’t at that point had been deflating. She wanted to hurt John that night, and what better way to do that than with the husband of the woman he was cheating on her with? 

She had wanted John from the first moment she saw him, back before Marlena died. She had been jealous then and John, whom everyone in Salem thought was Roman, was happily married to Marlena. When Marlena was thought deceased, John became a shell of the man he was, and suddenly Rebecca found herself uninterested. What did that say about her? And then, suddenly Marlena returns after Isabella’s death, and Rebecca is intrigued again. Was it ever love?

Roman’s front door opened, and he said loudly, “How long are you going to stand out here, Becky?”

Jumping in surprise, she stared at him with wide eyes, before saying, “I was getting to that, Detective.”

“Well, if you came by to check on me, I’m fine. You can leave,” he told her, blocking the doorway. 

Rebecca stared at him unblinking for a moment, and then pushed by him, “We need to speak, and it can’t wait.”

Who did she think she was? “So, you just barge into my house? I might have plans to go out…I might be sick!”

“We both know that you are neither of those things,” Rebecca told him. Removing her jacket, she sat it on the armrest of the couch along with her purse. “And, as I stated, we need to talk.”

Roman’s eyes trailed over her body quickly. She seemed to have filled out slightly. Curves and roundness where it was lacking before. He couldn’t deny that Rebecca Morrison could fill out a pair of jeans, but there was a definite change in the flare of her hips, and the way her ass was looking. He wasn’t sure how to respond to her. Turning to walk towards the kitchen, he called over his shoulder, “You thirsty? I’ve got iced tea, coffee, or water.”

Rebecca was flustered. She shouldn’t be, but Roman wasn’t exactly hiding his appraisal of her. She knew her clothing was getting tight, but he seemed to enjoy it. She wasn’t sure exactly how that made her feel. She wasn’t used to people making her feel as unsettled as Roman did. Following him into the kitchen, she was about to tell him she didn’t need a drink, but he had already placed two glasses on the table and was sitting down. She stood in the doorway staring at him.

Roman glanced up, “Come on Becky, have a seat.”

With a sigh she entered the kitchen, “Why do you insist on calling me that?”

“Because it irritates you,” he answered. Leaning forward he said with a grin, “And for some reason, irritating you makes me happy.”

“Well, I guess that’s something,” she replied with a smirk. “How are you feeling, Roman?”

“That’s a loaded question, counselor. Dr. Horton refused to release me until I’d completed three sessions with Dr. Baker. Not my idea of fun,” he said, sipping his tea. He watched Rebecca’s eyes widen slightly. “Surprised?”

“I didn’t expect…have you ever done therapy before?”

“Dr. Baker seems to think my adverse opinion of therapy happens to come from being married to a psychiatrist. I have trust issues, she says. I think I’m constantly being psychoanalyzed…blah, blah, blah,” Roman told her. “Don’t repeat this, but some of the stuff she was saying made sense. It’s probably the same shit Doc’s been saying since I returned, but for some reason it sounds different coming from someone else.”

Rebecca asked him softly, “Why do you think that is?”

“The truth?” he asked.

“Always,” she said, not sure if she would actually receive the truth, but then he surprised her.

Roman leaned back in his chair, and stared at her. She was a beautiful woman. He’d never thought about it before. Rubbing his palms over his face, he said, “When I came home, and found out that my wife, my children, and my family had accepted a complete stranger to be me…the trust was shot. It disappeared and it was replaced with anger. I tried to push it away…but I think…when Doc tries to help me…I don’t trust it. I don’t trust her. She brought John into our bed, and called him by my name. I’m always wondering if she wishes I’d stayed dead. You know?”

“I can understand how that might cause problems,” Rebecca murmured. She’d never really considered how Roman might have felt coming home to learn that. How was it that Marlena, and his family believed it so easily? There was an obvious height difference, and… Rebecca looked away quickly, as she remembered sliding her palms over Roman’s smooth chest. There were obvious differences. She looked back towards Roman, “Trust is something John and I no longer have.”

“You did it, then? You filed for divorce?” Roman knew that her setting John free created more complications for him. Rebecca cutting him loose would make John even more determined to have Marlena. 

“I just left the courthouse. I filed.” There was nothing more to say. Rebecca sat there silently, pondering how she was going to tell Roman about the pregnancy, but then his next statement made it easy.

“If you love him, you could have stayed married. He made vows, you should fight for your marriage,” Roman told her. He took another sip of his iced tea. There was something in her eyes that said otherwise.

“I made vows too, and I broke them before he did. Filing for divorce is for the best. It’s become more complicated.” Rebecca stood up quickly, and walked towards the back door. She stared out at the tree where John and Marlena’s child was buried, and she touched her stomach gently. 

Frome behind her, Rebecca heard Roman say, “You’re pregnant. I thought the other day in the hospital that you might be. That’s why you should fight for your marriage.”

Rebecca turned around, “That’s why I can’t fight for my marriage, Roman. It’s your baby. I’m pregnant with your baby. My marriage is over.”

Roman wasn’t sure how much time passed before he said, “My baby? You’re pregnant and it’s mine?”

“I’ve already had my first sonogram. It’s yours. I’m due at the end of April.” She stood there for a moment, unsure what to do or what to say. She turned abruptly, walking out of the kitchen.

Roman chased after her, “Rebecca! Wait! You can’t drop a bombshell like this and leave.”

“I think I just did,” she said. “Look, Roman…I don’t have any expectations of you. As far as I’m concerned you don’t have to be involved at all, but I felt you should know.”

“Shit…shit,” Roman said, more to himself than to Rebecca. His marriage to Marlena was already in danger. Rebecca’s pregnancy might just be the nail in the coffin.

She went to her purse, and reached inside, pulling out an envelope. Handing it to him, she said, “You should also know that I received these in the mail this morning, with a note.”

When the photos of him and Rebecca making love slid into his hand, Roman knew that nothing but a miracle would save his marriage. Rebecca smiled at him sadly, as she gathered her jacket. “My next appointment is in a month. You can come if you’d like. I also suggest you tell your family soon. I won’t pretend this is John’s child.”

The door closed with a soft click. Since he held the evidence of his infidelity in his hands, he was certain that Stefano had already shown them to John and Marlena. He immediately thought of the night Marlena cried in his arms as she recalled the betrayal she felt over Don’s affair with Liz. He’d thought at the time that he was the man who would never break her heart that way. He’d been wrong, because deep down he’d wanted to hurt her. He’d wanted Marlena to feel pain when he’d slept with Rebecca, and now he was going to pay the price for those actions.

Chapter 66

Salem Police Department

Roman was not looking forward to this meeting with Abe. There was nothing worse than a work evaluation. A work evaluation done by his best friend was even worse. Walking into the station, he wasn’t unaware of the stares he was receiving. Of course everyone there would have heard about his episode. Kimberly had called 911. Every first responder in Salem would have known something was going on at his home. He was trying very hard not to hold a grudge or be angry at his sister, especially knowing she’d had his best interests at heart, but it was difficult considering the way it was currently affecting his life. That whole night had been blown out of proportion, and there was nothing he could do about it. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on Abe’s door.

Abe sat at his desk with a folder opened in front of him. Roman’s personnel file was complicated, and part of that was Abe’s fault, he was realizing. When Roman returned to Salem there had been no reinstatement process, no mental evaluations, and no demotions. Roman had slid right into John’s job, maintaining his rank, no questions asked. The previous police commissioner didn’t want a fuss. He’d been up for reelection, and saw the ‘John Black situation’ as something that could potentially ruin his bid for office. Not that it mattered, because two months after he won the election he was hit by a city bus, and died on the scene.

The police commissioner who replaced him was corrupt, and currently spending the next ten years in federal prison for money laundering and accepting bribes. Roman’s recent incident had made him the center of attention for the newest prospect, a temporary appointee intent on a permanent position. Commissioner Brenner wanted a full investigation, and Commander Carver was the one assigned to the job. 

Glancing up from the forms on his desk, Abe called, “Come in.”

Roman entered slowly, embarrassed and angry that this was even required. “Hey, Abe,” he said sheepishly. “Sorry I’m late. The light over on Oak and Glen is out, and traffic is backed up.”

“Is there an officer on the scene?” Abe asked him.

“Yeah, a rookie named Klein. He’s directing traffic, but it’s still slow going,” Roman told him, sitting in the hard wooden chair on the opposite side of the desk. “So, I’m here. Let’s get this over with.”

Abe sighed. Roman was thinking that this meeting was a mere formality, and it was, but it was also a little more complicated. Everything that should have been done when Roman first came to Salem, needed to be done now. Roman’s rank would be reduced to Lieutenant, and that would be contingent on a mental evaluation and mandated counseling sessions. He would also be required to turn in his badge and side arm. 

Taking a deep breath, Abe asked, “How are you doing, partner?”

“I’m good. Can we just get on with this? I’m going stir crazy at the house, and I want to get back to work,” Roman told him. This was a bullshit meeting that he didn’t even want to comply with, but he wasn’t given the option. Police Commissioner Brenner had called him personally. It was a demand, not a request. 

“So, um, the thing is Roman, there were some procedures that should have been followed when you were reinstated back in 1992, that weren’t. So, Commissioner Brenner is insisting that they be done now. There’s some paperwork we need to fill out first,” Abe told him, sliding the form forward.

Roman picked up the packet, and glanced over it, “What the fuck is this Abe? A full mental health work up? Really?”

“You were held prisoner against your will for seven years, Roman. A mental health evaluation should have been done to determine if you were fit for duty. It never was,” Abe told him. He could tell already that this was not going to go well.

“I’ve been doing this job for three and a half years, Abe! It’s ridiculous to suddenly demand it now!” Roman told him, tossing the papers back on the desk.

Abe stared at Roman and wondered why it had taken pressure from Commissioner Brenner for him to take action. Roman’s behavior over the last few months was obviously indicative of a deeper problem, and yet he had hesitated to act on it or report it. He’d allowed his personal relationship with Roman to cloud his judgment. Even now, Roman was upset about having to undergo a mental evaluation when only a week earlier he’d been so drunk he was walking on glass shards, and he’d almost died. Roman still wasn’t able to see an error in his thinking, or understand why his friends, his family, and his job,  might be concerned. Abe couldn’t feed into Roman’s continued objections.  “In light of your recent situation, Roman, Commissioner Brenner thinks otherwise.”

Roman leaned forward, his eyes flashing, “Commissioner Brenner is concerned about the upcoming election. We both know that.”

Abe had woken up that morning sick to his stomach, for this very reason. “That may be…but the fact remains that certain policies were ignored back in 1992. I’ve been tasked with rectifying that. I’m going to need you to turn in your badge, as well as your weapon–”

“–oh, wait! Wait just one damned minute! He’s having you take my badge and weapon? Am I being fired?” Roman asked loudly. His world was spiraling, and he’d felt just that morning that he might finally be getting his head together. In the span of a few minutes he felt like he was losing it all. 

“It’s temporary, Roman,” Abe said, trying to reassure him. “Just until you get the evaluation done. You can see Dr. Baker if you’d like. I know you mentioned seeing her while you were in the hospital.”

Roman stood up in frustration, slamming his fist on top of the filing cabinet, “That’s not the fucking  point, Abe, and you know it! Commissioner Brenner has no right to do this.”

“He does,” Abe told him. “He does, because Commissioner Simmons should have done it, and he didn’t. In trying to avoid a scandal because John had been on the force for years as you, Simmon’s didn’t follow protocol!”

“And that’s somehow my fault?” Roman asked loudly. It was unfair to put this on him now.

“Look, Brenner is not trying to punish you. No one wants you to suffer anymore than you already have. But being a police officer is a high stakes, high risk job. The stress is enormous. Roman, and you’re carrying a firearm.” Abe sighed, not sure if what he was saying to Roman was even getting through to him. “Commissioner Brenner wants to make sure that the citizens of Salem are safe–”

“–so he thinks I’m going to go on a rampage?” Roman yelled.

Abe sighed again. Roman was completely missing the point. He didn’t have the energy to keep saying the same things. “Commissioner Brenner wants the evaluation done within the next two weeks, and he wants mandatory counseling for at least six months. If the evaluation says you’re fit for duty, then you can do the six months of counseling while on the force.”

Roman stalked towards the desk, leaning on it and staring down at Abe, “And if it doesn’t?”

Abe didn’t respond. He couldn’t even meet his friends’ eyes. “The other issue at hand is your rank. You rejoined the force in 1992, and you took on John’s rank of Captain, but when you left in 1984 you were a Lieutenant. Commissioner Brenner wants you placed back down to Lieutenant.” 

Roman sank into the chair across from Abe, “I don’t fucking believe this shit. I’m a Captain.”

“It’s going to work out, partner. We just have to make sure that all our i’s are dotted and our t’s are crossed, that’s all.” Abe was trying to be as positive as he could be, but he knew how disheartened Roman must feel. Being kidnapped and kept prisoner by Stefano for seven years wasn’t his fault, but he probably felt like he was being punished for it. “Look, Roman, it’s not just your job riding on this evaluation. Brenner’s not sure he wants you working on John and Marlena’s kidnapping case anymore. This evaluation is important, and from now on, you can’t hold back information. None.”

Roman started feeling defensive, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Brenner thinks that what happened – your hospital stay – was because you were involved in the ISA investigation looking for John and Marlena. He believes that because of what you endured with Stefano, you shouldn’t be involved in this at all.” Truthfully Abe could understand why. Roman had been unpredictable over the whole investigation. He was moody, he was angry, and he had withheld information several times. “So, right now, Roman…right now, I’m asking, have you done anything or is there any information you might be withholding that could affect your job performance or the outcome of your mental health evaluation? Anything at all?”

Roman stared at Abe, unsure what to do. Rebecca’s last words to him the other day echoed in his mind, I also suggest you tell your family soon. I won’t pretend this is John’s child. Shit. If he wasn’t upfront about this right now, Abe would never trust him again. “Rebecca’s pregnant,” Roman told him. “And it’s my kid.”

Abe stared at Roman in shock. He was literally dumbstruck for several seconds, unsure of what to say. When had Roman and Rebecca slept together? Then he remembered that night at the Cheatin’ Heart. They had both been drunk. Very drunk. He’d dropped them off at Roman’s place. “Was it the night–”

“–yes, Abe! Of course it was! We were both drunk off our asses, and angry…hurt…” Roman stood up again, and started pacing the floor. “Ok…the first couple of times we were both drunk. The rest of the night, we knew what we were doing. We wanted to hurt them. Both of them.”

“G-d damn it, Roman! Are you serious?” Abe was furious. “John and Marlena are G-d knows where, probably fighting for their very sanity, and you and Rebecca get pissed off and decide to have sex?”

“Whoa! What the fuck did I just walk in on?” Bo stood in the doorway to Abe’s office staring at them both in surprise. Behind him at least two other officers were paying very close attention to what was happening.

“Shit!” Abe yelled, even more frustrated. “Get your ass in here, Bo, and shut the damned door.”

Bo slammed the door and glared at his older brother. “You got Rebecca pregnant? Your wife is kidnapped by a madman, and because you want to act like a jealous neanderthal, you decide to have sex with John’s wife?”

Out in the hallway, Carrie’s fist hovered over Abe’s door preparing to knock. She didn’t, because half of the police station just heard Bo scream at his brother, and it wouldn’t be long before the whole town of Salem knew what her father had done.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Brady Pub

Caroline held the envelope in her hand, as she entered the kitchen of the pub. Shawn was standing over a bucket of brine, preparing to set a large brisket inside. “Shawn,” she said quietly.

He looked over, “Caroline! I was meaning to ask ye about the soda bread ye made the other day. A couple of the customers were wondering if ye might be willing to sell some loaves–”

She placed the envelope on the prep table beside him, and Shawn stopped speaking. “It came in the mail just now,” she said. There was no mistaking the handwriting. Another package from Stefano. Caroline was almost scared to check the mail lately. 

Shawn stared at it for a second, and then settled the brisket in the bucket, sealing the lid tightly. Turning to rinse his hands, he said, “It’s building up to something, Caroline. I can feel it in me bones.”

“I’m scared, Shawn. This is his revenge forty-two years in the making, and while he’s been targeting our family for years…this is about you. He’s wanting to hurt you,” she told him.

After drying his hands, Shawn reached for the envelope. It was thin. It was so light, Shawn might be fooled into thinking it was empty, but that wasn’t how Stefano DiMera did things. Sliding his index finger under the edge, Shawn tore the paper, and emptied the contents onto the prep table. Two torn photographs. Shawn’s wedding photo from when he married Caroline, torn down the middle. The side with Caroline was missing. It was the same with Seraphina’s wedding photo to Stefano. It was torn down the middle, and the side with Stefano was missing. There was nothing else inside, and while to many, it might seem like nothing, Shawn knew it was barely the beginning.

Lifting the photo of Seraphina, a tear slipped from his eye making a slow path over his cheek as he whispered, “She looks so sad.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Carrie’s Apartment

Carrie tried to ignore the persistent knocking on the door until she heard Kim’s voice say softly, “Carrie, honey, open the door. Please?”

Yanking the door open, Carrie stared at her with red, swollen eyes, “I’m fine. You can go away now. Tell Uncle Bo, I’m fine.”

Kim entered the apartment, “We both know that’s a lie, so why don’t you just talk to me? Bo said you might have heard something upsetting down at the station?”

Carrie practically snorted, “Oh, he didn’t tell you the good news?”

Kim stared at her niece. She had no idea what Carrie was talking about, “What news?”

Carrie laughed sardonically, carelessly plopping herself onto the couch. “Dad decided to get drunk, and get John’s wife pregnant!”

Kim stood in the middle of Carrie’s apartment staring at her niece in shock. She replayed every awkward interaction between Roman and Rebecca over the last couple of months, and she whispered, mostly to herself, “Of course, he did.”

Chapter 67

Soneva Fushi, Maldives

John sat on the blood spattered sofa, and his tears fell from his eyes onto the bloodstained carpet. That’s how Marlena found him, with a photo of Seraphina at his feet. It must have fallen from his hand. Her bare feet were a soft whisper on the floor as she approached him. Marlena knelt in front of him, placing her palm gently on his knee while she lifted the photo. What she saw brought tears to her eyes. A woman, kneeling on a stone floor. Her head was bowed, and her arms were wrapped around her swollen abdomen. It was John’s mother, Seraphina. Surrounding her were long strands of dark hair. 

Her hatred for Stefano burned with flames of fury. This was intended to hurt John down to the deepest part of his soul. A photo of his own mother, pregnant with him, prostrate on the floor at the mercy of Stefano DiMera. The photo would have been taken only to allow Stefano’s swollen ego to gloat about what he had done. There was no other reason, besides, of course, hurting John.

In John’s fist he held a note. Marlena reached forward, gently prying his fingers apart as she pulled the paper from his hand. Her stomach rolled with nausea as she read what Stefano had written: I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I’ll go to it laughing. It was obviously a quote from a book, and Marlena could make a fairly certain guess as to which book it was.

“John?” she whispered softly. “John, honey…look at me.”

“I’ve seen photos of her,” he whispered, taking the photo from her hand. “When I was young…my papi had some. But this? This, Doc? He’s torn my heart and my soul from my body to show me this.”

“Oh, my love,” she said softly, rising to sit beside him. “My darling…” Marlena wrapped her arms around John’s shoulder’s pulling him against her. His face softly nestled in the curve of her shoulder, while his hot tears dripped onto her skin. There was a time when she’d believed she’d rid the world of Stefano DiMera. She’d never felt any guilt over it, feeling as if she’d done the world a favor. If she ever found herself in a room with him again, with a gun in her hand, she wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him a second time. 

John rested against Marlena, unable to get the image of his mother out of his mind. Stefano had always been diabolical…sadistic even, but something about what he’d done to John’s mother added another level of evil. For Stefano DiMera there was no possibility of redemption after something like that. John’s mind echoed, I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I’ll go to it laughing. He recognized the phrase from Moby Dick, a book he hadn’t realized until very recently, he had memorized. He was able to recite it word for word, line for line. He could still remember Stefano handing it to him when he was barely more than a child, a prisoner whose only crime was his birth. 

“I think you’re right,” he said quietly. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

Marlena was confused, unsure of where his mind was at the moment, “Right about what?”

“Shawn being my father…Stefano’s hatred of the Brady family runs deep, but his hatred of me seems to run much deeper.” Another tear slipped from his eye. “What he did to her… my G-d, Doc… what he did to her! When I see him again–”

“–he wants you to feel this way, John. He wants you to be angry and reactive. He wants you to lose your mind with rage…and, baby, you can’t let it happen,” she told him. Her fingers laced through his hair, stroking him softly. “We can’t let that happen. We have to keep our minds clear. If we don’t, he wins.”

John didn’t respond. His arms snaked around Marlena’s hips pulling her body closer, and he rested against her. She was right. Always the voice of reason in a world he sometimes found overwhelming. Very softly, he whispered, “I love you.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Caroline and Shawn Brady Residence

In the center of the dining room table sat a black and white photograph of a cottage nestled in the hills halfway between Cranny and Ballynacally, Ireland. Shawn touched the corner with his index finger, sliding it closer, “That’s where we were Caroline. Phina and I…this cottage. It belonged to me cousin Finn. Twas his mothers before she died, and before that it belonged to me Mhamó [grandmother].”

Caroline covered Shawn’s shaking hand with hers, saying, “It’s a beautiful place.”

“Ye can’t imagine, Caroline. The hills, and the grass is so green ye think ye must be imagining it. The air…oh, the air in Ireland be like no other. Clean and fresh as the stream running from the hills it be.” Shawn stared at the photo again. “Finn’s sister, me cousin Clodagh, she wrote me a letter saying the roof of the place was burned right after I left. They never rebuilt thinkin’ it be a bad omen.”

“What does this mean, Shawn? The torn wedding photos of you and Seraphina…now the cottage,” Caroline asked him. She had an idea of what it might mean, but she was scared to say it aloud.

Shawn stared at his wife for a long time, before he glanced at the cottage photo again. “I think…I think this means I’m being called home, Caroline. Stefano wants to finish this where me cousins Colm and Finn started it. Because even though they was the ones that took his wife, I was the one who fell in love with her.”

“If Stefano is trying to lure you to Ireland…do you think–”

“–ye can be bettin’ that he’ll be bringin’ me boy and Marlena along as well,” Shawn finished for her. “He’s been plannin’ this since John’s birth. His pride suffered when Seraphina was brought home to him, pregnant with another man’s child.”

“Shawn! He’s after you!” Caroline exclaimed.

“No…he’s wantin’ to hurt me. He’s plannin’ something, Caroline. I can feel it in me bones. That’s what all this has been about. Taking Roman, and replacin’ him with John. Takin’ Marlena to make John suffer, and then bringin’ Roman back…all to inflict pain on me family…making me watch it all, don’t ye see?” Shawn stood up, unable to sit any longer. “None of this has been about ending me life. That would be too easy. Stefano wants me to suffer. It’s been about makin’ me watch me family endure the pain I caused.”

“Shawn, no!” Caroline exclaimed, standing up quickly. She cupped his face in her small hands, “No! You didn’t cause this. Stefano DiMera is evil. He’s pure evil…and this is not your fault!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

John’s Old Loft

Rebecca stood next to the kitchen counter staring at the silver candlesticks in front of her. She held a match in her hand, shaky, almost afraid to strike it. Lighting the candles for the first time since she’d left home at eighteen felt daunting, but then again, so did having a baby and raising it by herself. She’d grown up in a house that culturally embraced their religion and their heritage, but her parents’ anger at G-d had prevented anything further. She wasn’t even sure why she found herself standing there wanting…hoping for something to fill the void that had slowly been growing larger inside her. She needed something that would make her feel as if her feet were firmly planted on the ground, and the only thing she could think of was sitting right in front of her in the form of silver candlesticks.

Roman knocked on the door of John’s loft. He hadn’t been there in years. Standing there right then brought up a lot of anger and frustration. He found himself wondering if John had ever kissed Marlena there? Had John ever made love to Marlena there? He shook his head. No. John and Marlena had made love on Victor’s plane. Nowhere else. He couldn’t let himself go there, and he needed to be clear headed for this conversation with Rebecca.

The door slid open, and Rebecca was surprised to see Roman standing there. She’d only moved out of Victor’s that afternoon. “Roman,” she said with a brief nod of her head.

“Rebecca…I thought we might talk about the news you dropped on me a few days ago,” Roman said.

She stared at him with an arched eyebrow, “News?”

He had to get used to saying it, so he replied, “The baby.”

Stepping back, she gestured for him to come inside the apartment. Roman walked in, unzipping his jacket, and stopped short when he saw the candlesticks. “Am I interrupting something?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. Roman stared at her intently as she walked past him, and stood in front of the candles. “When I was younger my bubbe and my zayde lit the candles every Friday…every holiday. My parents…my parents refused. They’d lost so many people in the war–”

“–the war?” Roman asked her, slightly confused. 

“I’m Jewish…although I haven’t practiced in years. My parents certainly don’t, but there is something about knowing that I have a life inside me that has me wondering…if maybe I’ve left something behind that I shouldn’t have.” Rebecca continued to stare at the candlesticks.

“Are you going to light them?” Roman asked with open curiosity. “Is it a holiday or something?”

Rebecca smiled softly, not even sparing him a glance, “Rosh Hashanah…it’s the new year.”

Roman considered that she might want to be alone. “I can leave…to give you some privacy. We can talk about the baby later.”

Something felt right about Roman being there, although she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. It was possible that his presence took away some of the loneliness she’d been feeling. It was also possible that while they’d never intended for her to get pregnant, she had managed to make a friend in Roman Brady. She turned to face him, “Would you stay?”

“I can stay,” he told her, shrugging out of his jacket. “Do you need me to do something?”

Rebecca didn’t have an answer for him. She reached for the match, striking it across the box in front of her, and she lit the candles, saying softly, “Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech haolam. Asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’zivanu l’hadlik ner shel Shabbat. [Blessed are You, Eternal our God, Sovereign of time and space. You hallow us with Your mitzvot and command us to kindle the lights of Shabbat.]” Both of them were silent as they watched the flames flicker. Finally Rebecca moved the candlesticks to the coffee table, and then turned out the lights. “At my grandparents house, we would sit in the dark and watch the candles burn. It’s one of my happiest memories…I want memories like that for my child.”

She was talking as if she would be doing it alone. Roman stood awkwardly off to the side, unsure of what to say. He came closer, watching Rebecca in the candlelight as she sat on the couch leaning towards the shimmering light. “You know…you won’t have to do it alone,” he said softly. “Raise our baby, I mean.”

Rebecca looked up at Roman, “I’m not sure your wife is going to be okay with you having a baby with another woman.”

“Marlena is going to be hurt. What you and I did…I wanted to hurt her. My marriage may not be able to come back from this.” Stefano DiMera had set out to destroy the lives of Shawn Brady’s sons, and he might succeed. 

Rebecca laughed, “You and I? Do you think your marriage can survive her and John? Roman, it’s not just what you and I have done… creating this child. It’s what Marlena and John have done…are probably still doing. The longer Stefano has them, the closer they will grow…the more dependent they will be on each other, and when they return only they will know and understand what they’ve been through. Don’t you remember how close they were after she was kidnapped by that Lombard woman? Wasn’t that what led to their affair in the first place?”

Roman remembered watching Marlena as John was pulled out of the pit. He’d been trying to look her over and tell her how scared he’d been, but her eyes were glued to John. In the hospital that night, when John came by her room, she spoke to him in a voice that was so soft and so intimate, Roman had felt as if he were intruding. “I don’t think–”

“–John isn’t going to let her go this time,” Rebecca said softly. She wasn’t trying to hurt him, but he had to have someone in his life who was honest with him. “I know John, and he’s going to fight for her, because he loves her. You may not want to accept it, but we’ve lost them.”

“No,” he said. Rebecca was wrong. She didn’t know anything about his relationship with Marlena or what they had been through. “No… things are complicated, but I know Doc loves me.”

“She may love you, Roman, but she’s in love with John.” It broke her heart to say it, but she’d been having the same conversation with herself ever since she’d realized she was pregnant. There would be no coming back from what she and Roman had done, and there would be no trust between any of them. She had accepted that, while Roman hadn’t. Rebecca went back to staring into the candles, and Roman silently left the loft, the latch of the door clicking softly behind him. 

Chapter 68

Winter 1995

Stockholm, Island of Skeppsholmen, Sweden

In the pitch black of night, John and Marlena exited the car they were being transported in. Just after the bridge, Dante had pulled off into the shadows. John had studied the cityscape as they were driving. He knew where they were. Leaning towards Marlena, he whispered, “Stockholm.”

Making sure that Dante and Mason couldn’t overhear them, she asked, “You’re certain?”

“Yes…I saw the Royal Swedish Opera just before we crossed the bridge.” John sifted through the memories he had. Ever since Rolf had taken the device from his neck, he’d been working to put the memories he had in some sort of chronological order, but most often he found himself still confused. He saw Mason watching them, and whispered, “Later.”

Glancing at Dante to see if he’d noticed John and Marlena’s exchange, Mason was relieved to realize that he hadn’t. Mason nudged the other man, saying, “We’ve got to go. We can’t be seen parked here in daylight.”

“I can’t find the fucking map,” Dante told him, ruffling through the items in the envelope they were given at the airport.

“ Cazzo! [Fuck!] I don’t need a G-d damned map,” Mason told him. “I have it memorized.” He was pretty certain that John had it memorized as well. He was looking around curiously, but when their eyes caught, John immediately reached for Marlena’s hand and attempted to look bored.

Dante stared at Mason for a moment. When did he start cursing in Italian? Dante had spent his childhood listening to his grandfather curse about the neighbors in Italian. He didn’t speak it fluently, but he knew enough. In all of the years he’d worked with Mason, he’d never heard him using anything remotely Italian. He watched him walk towards John and Marlena, and followed closely behind.

“Let’s go,” Mason said gruffly. John reached for Marlena’s hand, and started to follow when Dante stepped in front of him.

“I don’t trust you. No bullshit, do you hear me?” Dante told him.

John glanced at Marlena, and then back towards Dante. “If you think I would do something, and possibly get Marlena injured, you’re a bigger idiot than I had you pegged for,” John said, steering Marlena around him. 

Mason made sure there were no other people around before ducking into a tunnel covered with overgrowth. John held the bushes and debris to the side, allowing Marlena to enter in front of him. Within moments the temperature dropped several degrees. John was grateful that Dante had rudely tossed changes of clothing at them on the plane. He may not have known at the time where they were going, but the clothing was indicative of the climate. Thick pants, boots, and woolen socks were much more appropriate for what they were walking into. He watched Marlena shiver, and tuck herself a little deeper into the sweatshirt she was wearing, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough. Not if Stefano had plans to keep them down there for a while. 

“John?” Marlena whispered into the darkness. “What is this place?”

John didn’t answer. He couldn’t give away what he knew in front of Mason and Dante. He squeezed her hand, but said nothing.

She understood immediately. Later. He would explain everything later. In the pitch black they felt their way through a tunnel so narrow their shoulders brushed along the cool stone as they walked. When it finally opened up they were standing in a massive cavern.

Mason reached for John’s arm in the dark, placing a flashlight in his hand, while muttering “This way.”

Clicking the light on, the space around them was lit with an eerie glow. John saw Marlena’s eyes looking about. She was scared. He knew she was, but he couldn’t explain or reassure her until they were alone. He didn’t trust Dante at all, and the verdict was still out on Mason. John believed that Mason could be having memories and flashbacks, but he couldn’t be certain. Sometimes when their eyes met, he felt something, but it wasn’t enough to expect that Mason was on their side.

Threading his fingers through Marlena’s, he squeezed her hand again, and whispered, “This way, Doc.”

Her whole body shivered at the warmth of his hand in hers, as if she had just realized how cold it was where they were. After walking a distance, and entering another tunnel, they came to a stop at a metal door. This was their destination, she could feel it in her bones. Mason and Dante were going to open that door, push them inside and leave them underground, right beneath the feet of the citizens of Stockholm.

Everything from that moment, until Mason and Dante left them, played out in slow motion as her mind processed the shock of it all. The loud clang of metal echoed through her mind. Standing in the center of a large room, staring around herself imagining that it must all be a dream. She thought about Baliceaux, Gauley Valley, Tahiti…even Orpheus’s island in the Maldives. None of it had prepared her for this. This darkness, the dankness, and the cold that felt like it was permeating her bones as she stood there. The ache in her muscles, and the headache she’d had the whole day suddenly felt worse. 

John listened to Mason and Anthony’s footsteps as they walked away, remembering Mason’s last words, “There are extra batteries with the supplies. Try to make them last.”

John ran his fingers through his hair, and glanced around the room. It looked like the old officer’s quarters, which meant the door to his right was a restroom and bath. Whether it was functioning was another problem entirely. The light of his flashlight scanned the room, and John realized with a sigh, that there were cameras in every corner. It was laughable. He crossed the small space and opened the door which he thought led to a bathroom. Inside was a bathtub, a toilet and more cameras. Reaching for the light switch, John realized there was no electricity.

He shook his head in disgust. The cameras in the corners were obviously running on electricity, but Stefano in his ever sadistic mind had decided they didn’t need it. Shining his flashlight on the cameras in the corners of the bathroom John went one by one, wrenching them from the walls. He would tolerate cameras in the main room, but he would not tolerate them in the bathroom. 

John turned on the hot water, and he waited hoping for hot water. He flushed the toilet and was grateful that it worked. After letting the water in the sink run for several minutes he turned it off in frustration, “No fucking hot water. Great.” Hot water was possible, but again, Stefano had decided not to provide it.

In the main room, Marlena started to go through the two plastic bins which were sitting in the corner. She found green wool blankets imprinted with what she could only assume were military issue numbers, packages of food labeled Meal Ready to Eat, and batteries. There were also two empty canteens, some clothing and two coats. John exited the other room, looking frustrated, and she asked, “Is there running water?”

“There is, but it’s not hot.” John glanced over the items she had placed on the bed, and he sighed. He counted four blankets. If they layered them, and snuggled together on the bed, they could keep warm at night. The down jackets were going to be useful because the longer they were down there the harder it would be to maintain their body heat. The MRE’s, while bland and tasting of preservatives, were high in calories, which they would need. There were also heavy wool socks, and warm knitted hats. John’s gut tightened with the sinking reality that they would be there for a while. 

After flying for hours, and coming down from the surge of cortisol and adrenaline she’d had when they went underground, Marlena was exhausted. John could see it in her eyes when she looked at him. Stepping closer, he reached out, tracing his fingers over her jaw softly, “Are you hungry?”

“No,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek along John’s palm. “Just tired.”

John glanced at the twin sized bed, “It’s going to be a tight fit, Doc, but we’ll make it work.” Placing the flashlight on end, so the light shined on the ceiling, he reached for the blankets.

Marlena watched John layer the blankets on the bed, and she said softly, “I feel like were’e getting closer to the end. The weather is changing, and I feel like it’s been months.”

“It’s nearing winter,” he said. “On my count we’re close to five months under Stefano’s control…it was a new moon when I found you in Baliceaux. We’ve had four more since, we’re close to the fifth.”

“I haven’t seen the children in six months. They must think I’ve abandoned them. They’ve probably grown so much.” Marlena allowed John to lead her towards the bed, as she sat down in resignation. Another cage. This one was more obvious than the others, but a cage nonetheless. John knelt down in front of her, slowly removing her shoes, while he massaged the arch of her foot. Fatigue came over her like a wave as she stared down at him. “That feels so good.”

“The twinners,” he said slowly. “They love you. They will always love you, and once you’re home again we can explain what happened.”

Marlena’s head was starting to pound even more, and she winced slightly.

“Doc?” John asked her.

“It’s nothing. I’ve had this headache all day, and we’ve been traveling. I’m stressed, and I need to sleep. That’s all.” He continued to stare at her with concern. Marlena smiled wanly, touching his cheek gently. “John, honey…I’m fine.”

He stood up, lifting the blankets, “Climb in, Doc.” Taking his shoes off, he slid in beside her, and felt the shiver of her muscles. The temperature in the caverns was a solid ten degrees cooler than outside. They had to be careful. “Come here, baby,” he whispered, pulling her closer. 

Marlena curled into him, resting her face in the crook of his neck, and settling her palm on his chest. Her legs tangled with his, and she closed her eyes for a moment. She was grateful that she had John. If she didn’t she wasn’t sure if she could have survived it. Having John with her was everything, and yet she felt some guilt that he’d given up his life to be there with her. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” he said. They were silent for a while. John reached over, turning the flashlight off. “These caverns…I know them…I’ve been here before. I couldn’t answer you earlier, not with Mason and Dante right there. Not that it matters I guess, since Stefano has this place rigged with so many cameras.”

Marlena snuggled closer to him, soaking up his warmth. She felt herself getting drowsy, “What is this place? Do you know the history?”

“These caverns were used during World War II and the Cold War…as part of the Swedish military command, although they are mostly abandoned now. Every few years they open them up to the public for exploration, but they are mostly uninhabited. The perfect place to hide us,” John told her. It was such a classic Stefano DiMera move. John thought about the other places that he knew of Stefano’s, the catacombs underneath Paris, the Tunnels of Moose Jaw in Canada, and Derinkuyu in Turkey. There were others of course, places where Stefano could hide himself or other unwilling prisoners. “The people here in Stockholm call these caverns Bergrummet, which means mountain room.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The Dagmar Suite, The Diplomat Hotel, Stockholm

Mason knocked on the door to Stefano’s suite less than an hour after leaving John and Marlena underneath the city. He was surprised when Celeste opened the door. Memories flashed through his mind, her soft skin beneath his, the way she cried out softly during lovemaking, and the way she held onto him afterwards. She was his first lover after he woke up. The first person to show him kindness, softness…affection. 

Celeste wasn’t expecting to open the door to find Mason standing there. She’d been expecting Dante. Softly, she said, “Mason.”

He found himself feeling embarrassed…or was it shy? The emotions were new to him, and he was struggling with that. He understood cold, detached, and straightforward, but since he’d been having memories, things had gotten complicated. He glanced over the length of her body as she stepped back, allowing him to enter, and when he looked up he saw her staring at him intently. He averted his gaze, and walked towards where Stefano sat, staring at a chess board.

Celeste stared at Mason carefully. Something was different. It was the way he carried himself, but it was also the change in his facial features. She wasn’t used to seeing so much emotion in his eyes. She hadn’t seen that much since before Rolf implanted his microchip. She’d known him briefly before Stefano had turned him. Luca had been scared, alone, and desperately seeking information about Giovanni. She’d been drawn to him like a moth to the flame, a young lonely girl in love with Stefano, yet disregarded daily. Luca was a warm spot of kindness in a cold world.

Once he was a mercenary, he didn’t remember her at all, but a part of her knew who and what he truly was. When they were lovers, he could make her body sing, but there was never any type of emotion involved, at least not on his part. Celeste would never admit to anyone that her feelings for Mason ran deeper than simply having him available to scratch an itch. Her feelings for Mason were tied to her early budding affection for Luca. 

His microchip could be failing, just as John’s had. A vision passed before her eyes, leaving her dizzy. Mason with a gun in his hand, and Stefano dead on the floor. Was it Mason who finally ended it for everyone? Or was it someone else? She couldn’t be sure, but she was reassured. Stefano would meet his end.

Chapter 69

Marlena and Roman Brady Residence

Roman was just stepping out of his kitchen with his third cup of coffee when he drew up short, staring at the dining room table. He’d never be able to look at it again without thinking about Rebecca spread out over it like a buffet of sex. He thought about the photos that Stefano had sent of him and Rebecca together the night she got pregnant. It was very likely that Marlena had seen them, which meant she would never be able to look at that dining room table the same way either. He shook his head, turning away from it, and startled at the ring of the doorbell. 

He’d only seen Rebecca two days earlier, and his mind had been distracted ever since. Saving his marriage to Marlena and being a father to this new child seemed more and more unlikely, as his mind tried to find a way to do both. Even though Rebecca had told him it was impossible, Roman couldn’t give up without a fight.

Marlena was his wife. They’d taken vows before their families and before G-d. He wouldn’t let that go. After all, what kept him alive those years he was imprisoned? His belief in a life with Marlena and his children had been as essential to him as food and water. Allowing Marlena to walk away…allowing John to step back into his life, was admitting it had all been for nothing. He wouldn’t do that.

Roman pulled the front door open to find himself face to box. A rather large box. A disembodied voice shoved a clipboard towards him, saying, “Sign here, please.”

As he brought the bulky package into his home, he knew what it held. A clue. Another cryptic link to his wife and his brother’s location. Roman cringed inside every time he remembered that John was his half brother. When John left Salem, Roman had breathed a sigh of relief that he was gone. Now he was family. Family that was probably making love to his wife.

He tore at the cardboard, lifting the flap open to see two royal blue terry cloth bathrobes imprinted with a hotel insignia. Taped inside the flap was a key, and hanging from the key was a tag with matching insignia and the number 215. On top of the bathrobes sat a bottle of cologne and a bottle of perfume. Roman recognized Marlena’s perfume. Scents of jasmine and tuberose drifted gently up to him, mixed with a spicy cedar scent. He couldn’t be certain if it was John’s cologne, but he was familiar with Marlena’s scent from years ago. She wore something else now. Staring at the bathrobes, he was at a loss. He had no idea what it meant.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Stockholm, Island of Skeppsholmen, Sweden

Marlena watched her breath swirl in the frigid air as she snuggled deeper into the bed beside John. Her hand rested on his chest and gently stroked over the fabric of his shirt. The beat of his heart echoed in her ear. She shivered, and the ache in her muscles reverberated throughout her body. She knew she was probably getting sick. Likely a cold or some other virus she’d managed to pick up. The headache she’d arrived with had persisted, and while she hadn’t mentioned it to John, it seemed to be getting worse.

John reached around her, tucking the blanket around her back to make sure she was plastered against him. A twin sized bed wasn’t such a bad thing. It meant that he could hold her against him all night. It meant they could rest against the other during the day, and talk in whispers hoping the cameras didn’t pick up what they were saying. Kissing the top of Marlena’s head, he said quietly, “At least I have you here in my arms. The last time I was in Stockholm, I was so scared.”

“I know,” she whispered. “When they were holding me in Stockholm, I had so many dreams and fantasies about you finding me, or coming to me when I was asleep. I hoped and prayed you would find me.”

“Nearly the entire time you were missing, I thought Orpheus had you…only to find out it was Chief Vaughn the whole time.” John hated thinking about that time in their lives. The helplessness was the worst part. Feeling helpless was an emotion he’d never handled well. John did better when he had a plan, when he was settled. When the ISA had taken Marlena it had been months of unknown at a time when he’d needed her the most. He’d barely had time to settle into his life as Roman before they were hit by calamity after calamity. That feeling of waiting to have the rug pulled out from under you was easier to handle with Marlena by his side. “I was so angry at the ISA, and then…I was coming to get you…and you were gone.”

She ran her fingers softly along his jaw, “I’m sorry about that.” She too had believed that Orpheus had her, and she’d been desperate to escape. She’d gotten close several times, but when she’d finally succeeded, that’s when Milo Harp had actually gotten his hands on her.

John smirked, lifting his head to look down at her, “Are you? You could have stayed put for a just a little while longer.”

Marlena remembered the relief of finally getting away, only to be confronted with crushing fear when she realized she’d walked right into Orpheus’s awaiting arms. How easy she’d made it. John was right. “I was desperate to find you…and I really did believe that Orpheus had me. If I had known…”

“I know, baby. I’m just teasing you.” John felt Marlena’s body shiver against him again. “Are you okay, Doc?”

“I’m fine. I–I think maybe…everything is starting to take a toll on me. The constant stress, the unknown, how much I miss the children.” She tried to school her features, making the lines of her face smooth and placid to ease his worry. “I’m fine, really. It’s just stress, John. Long term stress brings fatigue. That’s all, I promise.” She was tired and fatigue would not be uncommon in a long term stress situation, but with the headache and the ache in her muscles, she knew she was sick.

“Are you hungry?” he asked her. “I’ll let you have the spaghetti and meat sauce.”

Marlena perked up slightly, “Really?”

“Absolutely,” he told her, sliding out of the bed. John stood up, cracking his back, and then leaned over, tucking the blankets tightly around her. “I’ll eat the ham slice with the potatoes au gratin. It’s the worst one.” He reached for her canteen, sitting beside the bed. “Drink water, Doc.”

“I’m not thirsty,” she mumbled, not wanting to lift her arm up to reach for it. Was she that tired? With a sigh she pulled her arm out and reached for the canteen John handed her. Leaning on her elbow she watched him tear open the food packages, and set up the heaters. He poured a small amount of water in each one, and slid the entrees into the plastic sleeves. She didn’t understand the science behind it, but she knew the food would be hot. Taking another long draw of water, she handed the canteen back to John and fell back against the mattress.

He didn’t comment on what he was observing, but he could see that whatever was going on with her was much more than simple stress. If he mentioned it again, she would continue to deny it. She seemed barely able to move. There had been times throughout the day, when she’d thought he wasn’t looking, when she would wince, but he wouldn’t push her. While their food heated, he reached for the down-filled coat that had been left for them, and handed it to Marlena. “Put this on, Doc, your gourmet meal is almost ready.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Marlena and Roman Brady Residence

Roman phoned Bo to come over to his house. When he arrived, his eyes widened when he looked inside Stefano’s most recent package. Bo immediately recognized the contents of the box that sat open on the dining room table.

“I don’t suppose you know why Stefano would send me this stuff, do you?” Roman wanted to know, coming to stand beside his brother. The combined smell of cologne and perfume was nauseating. Roman hated it all. It was nothing more than a visual reminder of what John and Marlena had been to each other while he had been living through his own hell.

“Stockholm,” Bo replied. “These robes…they’re from the hotel in Stockholm. I recognize them. We were there in ‘86…when the ISA kidnapped Marlena under the guise of Orpheus. They were trying to force John to find out where Victor’s organization had hidden the savings bonds that were–”

“–wait! Wait! The savings bonds from ‘79?” Roman wanted to know. That was when he’d been in Stockholm, and accidentally killed his partner’s wife. “Those savings bonds? We never found them, Bo.”

Bo stared at Roman, frustrated to find him, yet again, unaware of what Marlena had been through in his absence. Just as he’d been ignorant about Marlena shooting Stefano, Carrie’s kidnapping, and West Virginia. “Yes! Those savings bonds!”

Roman scowled, but otherwise said nothing. Everytime he thought about John living his life, and having his memories, he felt helpless and out of control, and everytime he felt out of control he felt nothing but rage. Being reminded that John, the brother he never wanted, had his memories always brought an unpleasant bitterness with it. 

“Sit down, Roman,” Bo told him, walking toward the couch. He sank into the overstuffed cushion, carelessly plopping his feet on the coffee table. “Before we go any further, and before we call Abe and Shane, you need to know what happened in Stockholm. I can’t have you looking like an idiot again.”

Roman felt his ire rise. Bo could be the most frustrating person. Roman fell to the couch with a groan of resignation. “Just get this little history lesson over fast.”

With a smirk, Bo said, “The ISA wanted you to continue the search for the savings bonds from 1979, but John refused. Not only did he refuse, but for Marlena, he quit the ISA altogether–”

When Bo mentioned the case from 1979, Roman had felt that flutter of excitement he always got at the prospect of a case. He was like a bloodhound, but then Bo said John had quit the ISA, and he was confused. “–he quit the ISA?” He didn’t understand how Marlena and his family could believe that John was him, because he would never quit the ISA. It was where he got his excitement, his adrenaline, his dopamine fix. With a look of disbelief, he said, “I would never quit the ISA.”

Sighing, Bo leaned forward, intent on moving on with the story before Roman puffed up with self-righteous indignation. “He quit the ISA. He wanted to live a quiet life with his wife and his children.” Roman continued to stare at him, and Bo said, “Look, Roman, it wasn’t inconceivable that after being presumed dead, and missing a year and a half with your family, that you wouldn’t want to settle down.” Bo could tell that Roman wanted to interrupt, but he stayed quiet with a deep frown. “He quit the ISA, but Ogdin Vaughn had other plans. He wanted John to go search for those savings bonds, and because he wouldn’t cooperate, the ISA kidnapped Marlena…and they made it look like it was done by Milo Harp. They planted evidence, and made it look like Orpheus had her.”

“All over some fucking savings bonds we never found?” Roman asked.

“They were worth millions! And Chief Vaughn wanted them. The ISA knew that John would do whatever he had to do if he thought his wife’s life was–”

“–my wife!” Roman yelled, losing his patience. Marlena was his wife.

“For fucks sake, Roman! Listen to what I’m telling you!” Bo screamed. He stood up, running his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t even look at Roman, he was getting so angry. He walked to the French doors, staring out at the row of hedges out front for a few seconds, before turning and saying, “John was desperate. At first, he refused to search for the savings bonds. He and Hope went undercover–”

“–Hope?” Roman couldn’t imagine working on a case with Hope. She would drive him insane. He knew he should be focusing on the story, but he was struggling to understand how his family didn’t recognize changes in his character. Quitting the ISA, going undercover with Hope…those were things he would never do. Those were things that should have had them questioning John’s legitimacy. 

“We were…Hope and I were having some problems, because I was undercover trying to get information on Victor, but I couldn’t tell her, so she assumed I was simply being an asshole…look, I can tell you about that another time. Stop interrupting me… John and Hope went undercover to try and track Marlena, but they figured out fairly quickly that he was going to have to find those bonds, because the fucking ISA made it look like that’s all Orpheus would accept in exchange.” Bo turned around, and found himself staring at the empty wall near the French doors. It used to hold family photos Marlena had put together, now it held nothing. Facing his brother he said, “John found the savings bonds.”

Roman was flabbergasted. He’d searched for those for months. How the fuck had John found them, when he couldn’t? He watched Bo walk towards the box with the bath robes, staring at them intently. 

Bo turned, leaning against the dining room table, “Once Shane’s partner Gillian told us what was really happening–”

“–what happened to Ms. Peach?”

Bo gave Roman a hard stare, and didn’t even bother to respond. “Gillian told us it was all a ruse. Marlena hadn’t been kidnapped by Orpheus. What we didn’t know…even the ISA was unaware, was that Orpheus had been watching everything from the sidelines. Just when we thought we’d have Marlena back, Orpheus got her…for real this time. John got a call in his hotel room.” Bo reached into the box, pulling out one of the deep blue robes. “This hotel, Roman. In Stockholm…a phone call from Orpheus. He was bent on revenge against you.”

Roman continued to look bewildered, “No. No, that makes no sense. Milo knew it was an accident. He knew! His wife wasn’t supposed to be there. He didn’t blame me.”

“I can’t explain it, but Orpheus was determined to kill Marlena and make John… you… watch it. He wanted you to suffer Marlena’s death the way he suffered his wife’s.” Bo dropped the robe unceremoniously back into the box, and resumed leaning on the table. “Obviously it didn’t work. John saved her life…but this package? The robes and the hotel key, the perfume and the cologne…he has them in Stockholm right now. I’d stake my life on it.”

Chapter 70

Stockholm, Island of Skeppsholmen, Sweden

The coughing started somewhere in the middle of the night. By morning Marlena had a fever. John wasn’t sure what time it was, but he felt it was early. He had a growing anxiety, as he brushed the hair back from her face, and studied her flushed cheeks for a moment. He couldn’t be sure how high her temperature was, but he knew it was high enough to have him sweating. He gently untangled himself from her, and got out of bed. Shrugging into his coat, he’d hoped that someone, either Dante or Mason, would have checked on them by now. They’d been down there for three days already. John’s growing frustration came from the fact that the video cameras captured every moment; every moment of him attempting to get Marlena to drink water, every moment of him stroking her fevered brow in an attempt to get her temperature down. And still, no one had been down to check on them.

He glanced up at the security cameras. He had to somehow get Stefano’s attention, and the best way to do that would be to cover the cameras. If there was something that would get someone down into the caverns quickly, it was the loss of video. Stefano had warned him in Tahiti that he would separate John from Marlena if he destroyed the cameras. Nothing had been done about the one he tore down in the bathroom, but he wasn’t going to push his luck. He had already yelled at the cameras, and flashed light into them with no response. He looked down at Marlena. He needed something for her fever. 

Rummaging through the plastic bins, he came up with two pairs of socks. He’d cover the cameras, and then someone would have to come check on them. He needed Tylenol or ibuprofen. One by one he covered the video cameras, hoping against hope that Mason or Dante would come down into the caverns and check on them.

It was less than an hour later, as John sat on the edge of the bed, when he heard the heavy clink of the lock on the door. He looked up expectantly, immediately disappointed to find himself staring into Dante’s glowering face.

Dante was pissed off that he’d had to leave the warmth and comfort of the observation bay to come down into the caverns and check on John and Marlena. The hike down the tunnel was a quarter mile long, he’d had to put on a coat, and he was irritated that even after trying to ignore John for the past hour and a half, he’d managed to get him into the caverns anyway. Glancing up he realized that the cameras had been covered with socks. “Stefano told you what would happen if you fucked with the cameras.”

“Actually, what he said was I couldn’t break the cameras, which I have not,” John replied. “Doc is sick. I need medication for her cough, and something for her fever–”

“–do I look like a G-d damned doctor?” Dante yelled. He couldn’t believe that a fucking prisoner had the gall to demand anything from him. He was angry enough that Stefano was using him as a babysitter.

“Look at her!” John shouted. He’d never seen Marlena that ill before. “She’s sick! Tell Stefano to get a doctor to come down here! The cold and dampness isn’t helping. She’s burning up!”

Marlena felt herself somewhere between sleep and waking. She struggled to pull herself out of a deep, dense fog, and pain radiated along her nerves, deep into her muscles. She could hear John yelling as if he were far away. Attempting to turn her head, her eyes fluttered and her neck ached. She opened her mouth, wanting to call for him, but nothing came out except a soft rasp. She was thirsty, so thirsty that her tongue felt stuck and her teeth felt dry. As much as she tried to moisten her mouth she couldn’t.

John heard the faintest sound behind him, and turned away from Dante in an instant. Marlena’s fevered eyes were open, her pupils dilated. She was staring at him, but John wasn’t sure she was seeing him. He sat down beside her, brushing her hair back from her flushed face. Lifting a canteen of water, he slipped his arm behind her head, lifting her gently, “Doc…baby, drink some water. C’mon…”

Dante watched John with curiosity. He didn’t care what he’d heard from other mercenaries or what Mason had told him. John’s love for Marlena Brady would be his downfall. Entering the room, Dante snatched the socks away from the cameras, saying, “Don’t fucking cover these again. Do you hear me?”

John stayed seated next to Marlena, holding her close. He looked into Dante’s hard eyes, “Don’t do this. She’s sick. I know you can see that!”

Dante laughed, “John Black, the greatest mercenary Stefano ever had? I don’t think so.” But even as he taunted John, a tremble of fear coursed through his body when John stood up and faced him. Something flashed in John’s eyes. A look that allowed Dante, for a split second, to see something he hadn’t seen before. A darkness that scared him. 

Dante was out the door and turning the key in the lock before John could move. John stared up the camera above him, and said, “I know you can see it. She’s sick, and if something happens to her…if she dies, her blood will be on your hands, Stefano…and your blood? Your blood will be on mine. That’s a fucking promise.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Brady Pub

Rebecca sat at the bar eating her second bowl of clam chowder. There were a couple problems with that. One, it had to be Caroline Brady’s clam chowder. She’d tried others in an attempt to avoid the pub, and the possibility of running into Roman, but it wasn’t the same. They didn’t hit the palate the same way. Second, she shouldn’t be eating clam chowder at all. Clams, along with all other bottom feeders, as well as pork, were foods she should not be eating, but she’d somehow managed to convince herself that G-d would understand. It was odd since only weeks earlier the scent or mention of clam chowder had her on the verge of vomiting. 

The first couple of times she’d been in the pub, she’d gotten the chowder to-go, but one bowl wasn’t enough. Today, Caroline had invited her to sit down, and the conversation had been light. Caroline asked her how she was feeling, when the baby was due, and a myriad of other superficial things. It was obvious that Caroline wanted to know more, but Rebecca got the distinct impression Caroline was trying not to pry.

“You know,” Caroline said softly. “I have a similar recipe for fish chowder. It calls for white fish.”

Rebecca lifted her head, surprised that Caroline would think of that, “Really?”

Caroline wanted Rebecca to know she wasn’t faulting her for her current situation, and she certainly wasn’t judging her. The situation was less than ideal, but the baby was innocent. It was her grandchild, and for that reason alone, she cared about Rebecca. “I used to cook fish chowder for Lent when the children were small. I could make up a batch if you’d like.”

Rebecca smiled, the first genuine smile she’d had since she arrived. “I’d like that…what I can’t figure out is what makes your chowder so good. I’ve tried at least five others, and I can’t stomach them. Yours has a subtle sweetness to it.”

Caroline leaned forward conspiratorially, “Dry cream sherry. When Shawn and I married, he said his Maimeó always added a bit to her chowder. It took several tries to get the amount right, but Shawn swears my chowder reminds him of his childhood. I also use leeks instead of onion.”

Outside of the pub, Roman stood with his hand on the door. Rebecca was inside talking to his mother, and he couldn’t imagine anything more awkward than walking into that conversation. He watched her stand up, reaching for her jacket, and when she stretched back to shrug into it, his breath caught. She was starting to show. That moment, that split second in time, brought home the reality of the child to come. This wasn’t a dream. It was real, and it was happening, whether he was ready or not. He stared in wonder at the roundness of her abdomen. That was his child…it was their child. He stepped away from the door, waiting for Rebecca to exit the pub.

The weather was cooling as fall held Salem in its grips. A stiff breeze hit Rebecca as she pushed the heavy wooden door open. She dropped the door behind her, and tilted her face to the waning afternoon sun. 

Roman stared at her in awe. She was a beautiful woman, although he’d never really allowed himself to stop and consider it, it was occurring to him more often. Her eyes opened, and Roman stepped up beside her.

“Rebecca,” he said. “I didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

She smiled at him sweetly, “Your mother happens to make the best clam chowder in town. I’ve managed to eat it every day this week.”

“The best chowder, huh?” he asked her with a smirk. “And how would you know it’s the best?”

“Because I tried five others trying to avoid you,” she said with a laugh.

Roman wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He hadn’t been exactly excited about this child. He’d been so caught up in himself, and how it would affect his marriage that he hadn’t given any thought to Rebecca or how she was feeling. He glanced down at her belly. Her shirt was loose, and wearing her large jacket, the pregnancy wasn’t obvious. 

He looked up, and met her dark brown eyes. Inside the muscles of his abdomen trembled. “I noticed you’re starting to show a little.”

Her hand moved to settle over her pregnancy with a soft smile. “I am. The doctor said I could feel the first kicks any day now, although I’m not sure what I’m expecting.”

“It’s like a soft flutter,” he said without thinking. “At least…well that’s what I’ve heard. Doc said it was butterflies, and Kim said it felt like gas.” He shrugged, feeling the heat rise into his neck. He glanced down at her barely perceivable bump again, resisting the urge to touch her.

Rebecca saw Roman’s hesitation, and she reached for his hand, placing it on her stomach. Roman stared up at her with a smile, “When’s your next doctor’s appointment?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Stockholm, Island of Skeppsholmen, Sweden

In the last hour, Mason had watched Dante as he walked around seemingly distracted. He’d finally had enough asking, “What the fuck is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled. He was feeling guilty about what he done, or in actuality, what he hadn’t done. It was too late now. Mentioning Marlena’s illness and John’s desperation at this point would make it obvious that he’d done nothing to begin with. 

Mason leaned back in the chair watching the monitors. John and Marlena were curled up together in bed. Everything seemed in order, but his gut said it wasn’t. He glanced over at the wall noticing that the key to John and Marlena’s cell was missing. “Were you down in the caverns this morning?”

Fuck. Dante scrambled for a lie as he pulled the key from his pocket, “I took another box of MRE’s down there this morning while they were sleeping.”

“They’re sleeping now, dumbass. Are you telling me they haven’t woken up today,” Mason asked him. Dante was lying, but why?

“Look man, I don’t know. I’ve been babysitting for nearly twelve hours. It’s your turn. I’m going to bed,” Dante replied, turning to leave the room.

Mason roared, “Sit your ass down!” He was sick of Dante’s attitude. They were not equals. They would never be equals, and he had been allowing Dante to get away with entirely too much. “If you’re not going to tell me what the fuck is going on, and I know something is going on, then I’ll go back and look at the footage from this morning, which seems to be making you visibly nervous.”

Dante paled. He should have come back after his interaction with John and reported what had happened, but he didn’t. He’d allowed his pride and his arrogance to get the best of him, and now it was all about to blow up in his face. “Look, John was down there yelling and bitching for nearly an hour. Then the fucker covers the cameras so I can’t see shit…so, I went down there. He’s yelling something about Marlena being sick and needing medication, but–”

“–is she?” Mason demanded.

“Is she what?” Dante asked with a confused look on his face.

“Is she fucking sick you moron?” Mason swore to himself that once he got this straightened out he was going to beat the shit out of Dante.

“I don’t fucking know! She seemed…I mean, maybe. Maybe she’s sick, but she ain’t gonna die!” Dante yelled. “John Black is a fucking pussy about her, and he’s overreacting.”

Mason punched Dante so hard he saw flashes of light behind his eyelids.

“Maledetta puttana porca [Fucking pig whore]! What do you think Stefano will do to you if she does die? If Dr. Dante Errani got his diagnosis wrong?” Mason’s voice dripped with a sarcasm that Dante was unfamiliar with. 

Dante stared at Mason in shock, holding his jaw as pain radiated throughout his body. He almost didn’t recognize the man in front of him. Mason didn’t do rage. He didn’t do sarcasm. It wasn’t part of what he was programmed for, and it left Dante feeling unsettled.

Chapter 71

Stockholm, Island of Skeppsholmen, Sweden

John didn’t even bother to look behind him when he heard the metal screech of the door opening. He wiped at his eyes, brushing the tears from his face quickly. It didn’t matter that his crying would be obvious, he wouldn’t leave the tears on his cheeks. He continued to hold Marlena against him, as he leaned over her picking up the canteen of water that sat nearby. She stared up at him with eyes that seemed to lack recognition. Beautiful hazel eyes that reflected back at him the sun, moon, and stars combined. “Hey, baby,” he said in a soft tone. He nudged her lips with the canteen. “Just a little more water.”

Marlena’s eyes fluttered closed, but she opened her mouth at his directive, swallowing the ice cold water as it trickled down her throat. She moaned. Her body was so hot. Her eyes felt hot and swollen, and closing them seemed to be the only relief she could get. She shivered, turning her face away from the canteen. “No more.”

John knew someone was standing in the doorway. He wanted to turn around and hurl the canteen of water at whoever stood as a silent sentinel behind him. He hated them all. Instead, casting his voice over his shoulder, John hurled the words that were breaking his soul, “Unless you’re here to help her, you can get the fuck out.”

Mason didn’t respond. The hurt in John’s voice was doing something to him that made him uncomfortable. It pulled at his mind, and it left an ache in his chest. Silently he reached out and took the items being handed to him through the door. Stefano was watching everything. He’d been watching Mason since Tahiti, the night he’d killed Anthony. As hard as Mason tried, he knew that he was too involved. He shouldn’t care about anything, but he cared about John and Marlena, and as much as he tried to hide it, he couldn’t. It was evident in the inflection of his voice, and the way his eyes followed them. It was evident in his anger towards Anthony, and now Dante. And so, Stefano watched him, and he was fairly certain Stefano had other people watching him.

When Mason had gone to him, Stefano had been furious to find out that Marlena was ill. Dante would be punished, of that, Mason had no doubt, but Stefano had paused several times during their conversations, and that made Mason wary. Anytime Stefano paused it was as if he could see the cogs of his mind working, but he hadn’t said anything besides what they should do for Marlena. Stefano had sent Gabe and Brandon into the caverns with him to deliver the supplies to John. 

Mason hadn’t worked with them before. They seemed able, albeit a little quiet, but, then again, Mason wasn’t much of a talker himself. He placed a kerosene heater against the wall, and then gestured for Brandon to follow him inside. “Fill up the tank, and get it running. Leave what’s left in the can in the corner.”

“Sir?” Brandon asked in confusion. It didn’t seem safe to leave potentially explosive materials with someone who was known to be one of the best mercenaries the DiMera organization had ever produced. 

“Do you plan on coming down here every few hours and refilling it for them?” Mason gave the younger man a hard look. Leaning forward he pointed at John, and said, barely above a whisper, “I know you see that man over there. You know who he is. Don’t you? Everyone who works for Stefano DiMera does. You know what he’s capable of, and right now, the only thing keeping him from fighting us, is the woman in that bed. If he loses her, we’re all dannato [damned]. Have no doubt. So, our job is to keep her alive, and make sure he stays in his place. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Brandon replied, looking away. Mason’s cold blue eyes pierced him. What he needed to do was follow orders and stop asking questions. Stefano was using the sick woman to keep John Black under control. That’s all he needed to know. It was ingenious really, using a man’s weakness to keep him in check, and it seemed that John Black’s kryptonite was the woman he held in his arms. Brandon screwed off the lid to where the fuel would go in the heater and reached for the funnel, asking no further questions.

Gabe stood just outside the door awkwardly, and handed Brandon the container of kerosene. Everything about this new job Stefano had assigned him to made him uncomfortable. Like Dante, he’d been recruited straight out of the military, but he wasn’t sure he’d signed up for kidnapping. Glancing over at Mason warily, he asked, “Do I bring in the other cans?”

“Leave the rest just outside the door. I’ll come back tomorrow, and check on the guests–” Mason stopped speaking when he heard John snort derisively. His mind flashed the image of a teenage Giovanni with a sneer on his face, but Mason immediately pushed it away. Without acknowledging John, he continued speaking to the men with him, “When you are done, you can wait outside.”

John had heard the whole conversation. It was laughable. Stefano believed he held all of the power, that he controlled all the players in his game. But Stefano was no fool, he was well aware that John had willingly walked into his twisted plot. John had known since he’d stepped through the panel into Marlena’s room in Baliceaux that he’d once again become a pawn in Stefano’s game. Neither was ignorant of the other’s motives. John gave up his freedom willingly to keep Marlena safe. When it came to Marlena, her vulnerability, his love for her…he would allow Stefano to wield the power, for as long as she remained by his side, and when she wasn’t…he would burn down the world to find her.

Softly, John muttered to Mason, “I thought Stefano was trying to keep you away from me?”

Mason wasn’t surprised that John had noticed that. He’d been incredibly intelligent as a child. Mason paused his thoughts almost instantly. Stop! His inner voice roared inside his head. Stop! He forced himself to ignore John’s comment. He couldn’t react. 

Dragging a large plastic bin over to where John sat on the edge of the bed. “There are medicines inside, as well as powdered electrolyte drinks, and a thermometer. The hot water has been turned back on. So if she needs to be washed…” Mason’s voice trailed off, switching subjects quickly, “Do you know how to use a kerosene heater?”

“I do,” was all John replied. “I need to get her fever down. Is there ibuprofen?” 

Rummaging through the bin, pushing the soap aside, Mason quietly handed John a bottle of liquid ibuprofen. “Unless she can take pills?”

The rage John had been trying so hard to suppress boiled in his gut. He needed these supplies and he couldn’t afford to lose his patience. He couldn’t afford to lash out, but still his words came out laced with vitriol, “She might have been able to three days ago…now I can barely get her to drink water.” He slipped his arm gingerly beneath her shoulders. She was dead weight in his arms, unable to even support her own head. “Doc…hey, I need you to drink for me.”

“Not thirsty,” she mumbled, turning her face away. She wanted to sleep. Nothing hurt when she was asleep. Just the mere act of rasping out two words had her chest seizing up, and a deep rattling cough shook her body.

He knew she needed sleep, and he would let her, once he got her to open up. “It’s medicine, baby. We’ve got to get your fever down.” Glancing over at Mason, he nodded towards the liquid ibuprofen, and said, “800 milligrams.”

“800?”

“800!” John yelled in frustration. 

Marlena’s eyes fluttered, staring up at him blankly. He was upset, but her mind couldn’t figure out why. Sleep was pulling her towards a blissful unconsciousness.

John was scared. Her illness had gone too far. Had he known she was sick when they’d arrived, he would have fought to get what they needed. They would have had heat and hot water. A tear slid from his eye as he whispered to Marlena, “I wish you’d told me you were sick.”

Mason handed the medicine to John, and watched him tip the cup at her lips, saying, “Open your mouth, honey. I need you to drink this.”

Weakly, she opened her lips, licking over the dry flesh. John poured the medication in, and she was surprised by the strong cherry flavor followed by a bitterness that coated her tongue and made her grimace. Her eyes fluttered, and she coughed again. In a voice rough with disuse, she whispered, “Water.”

“Tastes bad, huh, Doc?” John smiled for the first time in days. This was the first sign he’d had since her fever set in that let him know that she was with him, even if just for a moment. “Here,” he said gently, tipping the canteen to her lips.

To Mason he said, “Acetaminophen. 1000 milligrams.”

Mason was going to assume John knew what he was doing. He measured out one dose of liquid Tylenol, and handed it over. He stared at John, watching him work. The steady way he held his hand as he tipped the cup towards Marlena’s mouth. The way he spoke to her, and the gentleness with which he held her. It was odd studying the man he’d known as a boy. It gave him that ache in his chest that he didn’t fully understand, and then he thought, my son. As fast as it came to him, he pushed it down again. Mason looked away. He had to be careful. He couldn’t show any change, any emotion, because Stefano was in the monitor bay watching every move he made. 

A bitterness worse than the previous one filled Marlena’s mouth. Her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes opened wide. She tried to turn away, but strong fingers held her firmly in place.

John whispered, “No, Doc. Don’t move. I need you to swallow this. All of it.”

She swallowed thickly, as he poured the rest into her mouth, and she croaked, “Water.”

A few moments later, as he handed Mason the canteen, John watched helplessly as her head fell back. It was probably a relief for her to be asleep. Gently, he laid her back onto the bed. Turning to face Mason, he said, “You tell Stefano if he fucking allows Dante anywhere near Doc, I’ll end him. Without hesitation, I will fucking end him.”

Mason nodded in acknowledgement. He wasn’t sure if John was talking about ending Stefano or Dante, maybe it was both, but the message was clear. He stood up, “I’ll be by tomorrow. You should mix some of the electrolyte powder into the canteen. She seems very weak.”

John turned back to Marlena, stroking his fingers across her brow, and he didn’t even acknowledge Mason’s exit from the room. The sound of metal on metal echoed, followed by footsteps down the tunnel. He watched Marlena as she slept, and then started to go through the items in the bin.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Brady Pub

Another clue had arrived at the pub for Shawn. It was just as cryptic as the last one. He stared at the photo in his hand, Stefano’s wedding photo again, but this one was intact. He was struck by the sadness that marred Seraphina’s beautiful face. Stefano, years younger, stood beside her, arrogant and proud. There was no love in his eyes. His hand rested on her shoulder possessively, but there was no affection.

The door from the back hallway opened and Shawn heard Bo call, “Pop?”

“I’m here,” Shawn said, lifting a piece of paper with the phoenix crest on it.

Bo rounded the corner, and saw his father sitting alone in one of the padded booths. The room was eerily quiet, since the pub had already closed for the night. He slid in across from the man who would always be his father, even if not biologically. “You said there was another clue. Is this it?” he asked, pulling Stefano’s wedding photo across the table.

“It is, but I can’t be makin’ heads or tails of it.” Shawn handed the stationary with the DiMera crest on it to Bo. “Another photo, and a bunch of numbers scrawled over the page.”

Bo stared at the numbers, “Those are coordinates, Pop, and I’ve seen them before.” He remembered the tattered book he’d found in Mexico, which was still on his boat.

“Coordinates? Coordinates to where?” But even as Shawn asked, he had a sneaking suspicion already coming to mind. If this was all a game, a way to get revenge on Shawn, Stefano would be trying to lure him back to where it all began. Ballynacally.

“I found a book at Stefano’s compound in Mexico. It was under a chair in the room where John and Marlena were being held.” Bo sighed, knowing that what he was about to say was going to hurt Shawn. “It was John’s book. A copy of Moby Dick. I think Stefano gave it to him. A novel about one man’s obsession and his descent into madness…I think Stefano gave it to John to somehow justify his obsession with revenge. It – well, it also seems to chronicle Giovanni’s metamorphosis into John. There is writing throughout, passages underlined, scrawled words in the margins, and at one point…what I think were coordinates. I can’t be sure. I never followed up because we found Hope, and I kind of forgot.”

“I think I already know,” Shawn said quietly. “I’ll be needin’ a map to be sure, but I can guess where Stefano would be wantin’ me to go…Ballynacally. He wants to end it where it started.”

Shawn moved to stand up, and Bo reached forward grabbing his wrist, “Whoa! Slow your roll there, Pop! You are sixty-five years old! You can’t just run off to Ireland for a grudge match against the leader of an organized crime syndicate! We have to get Abe, and Shane involved in this. Roman needs to know, because his wife is involved!”

“That bastard’s got me son! He’s tortured him his whole life because of sumptin’ I did! I can’t be waitin’ to get this done,” Shawn exploded. “Don’t ye see, Bo? It’s me he wants, and it’s me that’s goin to have to end this.”

“Sure, Pop, yeah, I know where this is going, but what I’m saying is, we’re not going to let you rush into this without a solid plan…especially because we do know what Stefano’s end goal is…but think, Pop, think! He’s been torturing you indirectly for over forty years, you’ve got to know this is going to be more of the same.”

Shawn sank back into the booth, his shoulders slumped in defeat, “What ye be thinkin?”

Bo said with a sigh. “It’s about you, yes…but I think…he’s going to use Roman and John to do it.”

Chapter 72

University Hospital, Salem

Dr. Bader tried to cover her surprise when she entered the exam room to see Roman Brady standing next to Rebecca. He seemed embarrassed, but he didn’t move from his spot beside her. The rumor that Marlena’s husband had cheated on her with John Black’s wife while their spouses were kidnapped had run rampant through the hospital. She hadn’t given it much credence until that moment. Normally she would make small talk with her patients, ask about their plans for the baby, if they had a name picked out, but she didn’t do any of that. It somehow felt wrong and awkward. She considered Marlena a friend, and this made things complicated, and uncomfortable.

After measuring the length of Rebecca’s abdomen, and checking the fetal heart rate, Dr. Bader said, “We’re due for an ultrasound at this visit. Are you ready?”

Rebecca smiled, “I am. I was hoping to find out the sex of the baby.”

“You were?” Roman asked her, looking confused. They hadn’t discussed it, but when he and Marlena had the twins they were excited to find out the gender at the birth. They’d wanted to be surprised.

“Of course. Roman, I’m a planner,” Rebecca told him. She couldn’t imagine having to wait until her child was born to know the sex. How would she decorate the baby’s room? How would she know what type of clothes to buy? “I need to know if at all possible.”

Roman opened his mouth to speak, ready to say, When Doc and I had the twins… but he stopped himself. It was not the time or the place for that conversation. He felt innately that bringing up Marlena’s pregnancy with the twins, even the slightest comparison would hurt Rebecca. He was actually surprised he’d even considered it since he usually said whatever was on his mind and then regretted it later. He took a breath, and he said, “Okay.”

A few minutes later, after Dr. Bader had taken all of the required measurements, checking the baby’s weight, and the length of its bones. She ran the wand over Rebecca’s abdomen, attempting to get the right angle to determine the sex, but hitting a wall every single time. The baby would move its leg, or roll to the side. With a chuckle she said, “It seems as if baby is not in a cooperating mood.”

Rebecca felt disappointment settle like a stone, “What?” She was thinking of the lists she needed to make and the items she needed to buy. She needed to know the gender.

Watching Rebecca’s face turn into a frown had Roman wanting to make her happy. He remembered Marlena’s pregnancy with the twins, and how sometimes a small poke to the belly or  him talking to the twins would bring about movement. Reaching his hand over he poked the side of her belly a couple times, and leaned forward, “Listen kid, you need to roll over. It’s going to make your mom here really happy, and she might even eat some ice cream for you later.”

Roman poked at her belly again, causing Rebecca to jump with a laugh, “Roman!”

Dr. Bader watched them curiously, but said nothing. Once Rebecca had settled back onto the examination table, the baby had, in fact, moved positions. Running the wand over the curve of baby, Dr. Bader froze the screen with a smile. “We’ve got it.”

Roman stared at the image on the monitor, trying to discern what he was seeing, and then a smile started to take over his face, “A boy?”

“A boy?” Rebecca asked, looking at Dr. Bader for confirmation. She felt tears welling in her eyes, which was odd because she was usually able to control her emotions. There was something special about the moment, something that brought a warmth to her heart. She glanced up at Roman, watching as he stared at the screen in front of them, and the warmth burned brighter. She wasn’t in love with him, but having him there, having a friend, made the moment all the more special.

“Yes. It’s a boy,” Dr. Bader said. She pushed some buttons, and printed out a line of photos. “And the due date is on track for progress, and growth as well. You’ll  have a healthy baby boy in about five months.” Standing up, she reached for some soft tissues, and began to wipe the gel from Rebecca’s skin. She wasn’t sure what the future had in store for the two people in the room with her, and she feared what was in store for John and Marlena when…or if they returned to Salem. 

When the appointment was over, Roman waited outside for Rebecca to emerge from the room. He stared at the line of photos in his hand. Nothing more than grainy black and white images created from sound, but also proof of a mistake that he couldn’t undo. As he looked at the photos he knew he wouldn’t want to undo it. No matter what he and Rebecca had done, it would never be the child’s fault. It was too late to take that night back. There was no chance for a re-do. Their child existed, and it was his job to love and nurture his son. He thought about Sami and Eric. He’d never been able to bond with them, as much as he felt he’d tried, there was always something standing in the way. John was standing in the way. Even when he’d left Salem, he stood in the way. Did he? A small voice in the back of Roman’s mind, the one that had been getting louder and louder since his hospitalization, and his forced sessions with Dr. Baker was asking him if that was true. Was John standing in the way, or had Roman firmly placed John there? Maybe he was the problem. Roman. Yes, something was in the way, and he was only beginning to recognize that maybe that something was himself, not John.

Rebecca’s eyes caught Roman’s as she came into the hallway. Of all the times she had wished for a child, and all of the times she’d hoped that it would be John’s, she found it surreal that her first child would be Roman Brady’s. Glancing towards the photos in his hand, she said, “Can you believe this is happening?”

Roman glanced at the photos in his hand again. She’d spoken of leaving. She’d mentioned going back to Fife Lake, Michigan. It didn’t make sense to him. She had no family. Her parents were gone, she had no siblings. Why would she leave Salem? Ignoring her question, Roman asked her, “Are you leaving?”

He was asking her to stay. Without the actual words, and with one single question, she knew he was asking her to stay in Salem. Rebecca sighed, “I think…it’s going to be very awkward and uncomfortable if I stay in this town.”

Roman reached for her hand, pulling her to the side, and into the shadows, “I think…I lost seven years with Sami and Eric. I lost seven years with Carrie. Our relationships will never be the same, and even though I’m not giving up on them…I don’t think we’ll ever be as close as we should be. If you leave…if you go to Michigan, I’m losing time with this child.”

“Do you know what you’re asking me to do? Roman, people are already talking. The looks I get at the hospital, the looks I get when I’m out…this isn’t a metropolis. People are talking about us, and they’re judging me.” Rebecca started to feel tears in her eyes. She could not cry, not in the hospital, and not in front of Roman. She pulled her hand out of his, and she said, “I’m not sure, and we…we would need to discuss some things.”

“We can. We can talk about whatever you want, but this is our child…and I’ve already lost so much. I’m asking…I’m asking for you to think about it,” he said. “That’s all. Just think about it.”

“And what about Marlena? What about John?” she asked him with growing frustration. “How are they going to feel being confronted by the evidence of our infidelity everytime they turn a corner?”

Roman started to blame John and Marlena, “They were–”

“Don’t,” Rebecca said firmly. “Don’t. We did this, Roman. We did. Whatever John and Marlena have done is their responsibility, but I won’t blame them for what I’ve done. I won’t allow that to hang over our son’s head. Whether you admit it or not, we got drunk, and had sex…but we weren’t drunk all night. We both know that. We did what we did, because we were angry, and bitter, and we suspected that John and Marlena had already crossed those lines. I think we were wrong. Staying here…in Salem…I’m not sure I want to do that, but I’ll…I’ll think about it. I can’t promise you any more than that.”

Roman watched her turn on her heel, and quickly walk down the hallway. He didn’t go after her. He knew why she was reluctant to stay in Salem. Their son’s origin story was already being told by strangers who had no true idea about their lives. Rebecca wanted to protect their child from the gossip, from the stories that would impact him as he got older. He understood that, but he still wasn’t sure he could let go, because when he told her he’d already lost too much, he meant it. He wasn’t sure he could live with knowing his son was miles away and unreachable. He wasn’t sure he could live day to day wondering if his son had smiled yet, or if he was trying to walk. The echo’s of Rebecca’s steps were long gone, and all Roman was left with was the hollow ache in his chest.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Stockholm, Island of Skeppsholmen, Sweden

John had dragged the twin sized bed into the bathroom, and laid Marlena in it carefully. She was so weak it broke his heart to see her this way. Her cough was so severe that she cried at the ache in her ribs, and a blood vessel in her eye had given up the fight. Brushing the hair off of her forehead, he whispered, “Hold on, baby. I’m going to help you breathe a little easier.”

Rushing to the sink he turned on the hot water. He did the same in the bathtub. Closing the bathroom door, he sat beside her, and held her hand, watching the heated water begin to fill the air with dense steam. Marlena lay in the bed, struggling to breathe, and he could hear the rattle in her chest, a wet crackle that signaled something much worse than the cold or flu. Rage filled him. Fuck them. Fuck them all. If he survived this, Stefano, and anyone who helped him would suffer. He’d make sure of it.

Marlena’s eye’s opened slowly, and John’s rage grew as he stared at the red mar in the white of her right eye. She’d woken up like that following a night of fitful sleep, and wracking coughs. Her hand reached for him, and John leaned closer, “Hey there, pretty lady.”

“I…I love you,” she whispered. Her fingers traced along his jaw before falling weakly back to the bed beside her.

“I know you do, baby. I love you. Can you try and take deep breaths? Get some of this steam into your lungs so we can loosen up some of this congestion.” He smiled at her, “Can you do that for me, baby?”

Tilting her head back, Marlena tried to take a deep breath but her muscles seemed to constrict, and she started coughing violently. She could feel the crackle, and the tightness in her lungs. She took another deep breath, trying again to get steam into her chest. As sick as she was, she knew that John was onto something when she coughed sputum onto her chest. Staring at the deep green phlegm on her shirt, she said in a rough voice, “Pneumonia.”

John’s heart started to slam within the confines of his ribs, and he felt his mind start to spiral that way it did when he felt helpless. That was usually when he broke things, or he roared out his rage to an empty room, but he couldn’t panic. He’d been worried it might be pneumonia, but as he wiped the mucous from her shirt with another rag, he knew he’d been praying it wasn’t. Pneumonia would require antibiotics, and Marlena was allergic to penicillin. “Shit,” he mumbled. “Shit…okay. I’m going to have to get Mason’s attention…fuck, I’d even accept Dante at this point.”

Marlena took another deep breath. She could feel the steam filling her chest, and she coughed again. A deep, shaky, wet cough. Her fingers gripped John’s forearm, and again she whispered, “I love you.” She wasn’t sure how much longer she could go on like this. Her body was exhausted, every muscle and bone within it ached, and cried for relief. 

A deep sadness, combined with a sense of fear and vulnerability gripped him. She was everything to him. Everything. And she was saying goodbye. I love you. She was saying goodbye, and he wouldn’t accept it. “Look at me, baby!” John said forcefully. “Look at me.”

Marlena’s eyes opened, and she stared up at him with glazed eyes. Her hair was plastered to her forehead with a combination of humidity, and sweat. She could see the fear in his eyes, and she wanted to reassure him. Her fingers twitched, and yet she couldn’t even lift her arm.

“We are not saying goodbye! Do you hear me?” John said loudly. “Stop that train of thought right now. I need you with me, and I need you fighting. Do you understand? What about Carrie, and Sami, and Eric? Don’t forget about them. I need you with me, and I need you fighting.”

“I’m so tired,” she whispered. She wanted to fight. She wanted to be able to do that for John, and for her children, but she wasn’t sure she could. “I’m just so very–”

A sharp knock sounded on the bathroom door, causing them both to jump, and then a voice that made John’s blood turn to ice, said, “John. I have brought a physician. Open the door.”

John looked at Marlena, smoothing her sweaty hair back from her face. “I love you too, Doc. I love you so much, and I know you’re tired. This is so unfair, but I will fight to get you what you need. Do you understand? And if I won’t give up, neither will you. Do you understand?”

Barely able to speak, she said, “Okay.” Another cough shook her, and John stood up, walked to the bathroom door, jerked it open, and stared at Stefano with hard eyes. Staring at the small man behind Stefano, he said, “Just the doctor. You stay out there.”

“John,” Stefano started to say with false sympathy. “I am genuinely concerned about Marlena’s health.”

“I would fucking kill you right now, you old bastard, if I thought I could get away with it. Spare me the false empathy. I don’t fucking need to hear it.” He glanced around Stafano, making eye contact with the person he assumed was the doctor. “She has pneumonia. She’s allergic to penicillin.”

“I can…” the doctor glanced at Stefano warily, but then straightened his shoulders, pulling them back, telling himself he was a doctor, and he needed to act like one. “I can examine her now. I have clindamycin in my bag. I wasn’t sure what to bring so I brought several classifications of antibiotics.”

John’s eyes scanned over the man standing to the right of Stefano. He was small, with thinning blonde hair, and gold wire rimmed glasses. Something in his blue eyes had John trusting him. Pushing Stefano to the side, he growled, “Get the fuck out of the way old man.” He reached for the doctor, pulling him into the steam filled room, and said roughly, “Get in here.”

Stefano stared at the bathroom door as John closed it in his face, and he felt that age old rage build up inside him. John Black was nothing. He was nothing but what Stefano had made him to be. He turned to find Mason watching him closely. 

Something was going on with Mason, but Stefano couldn’t put his finger on it. It unnerved him. Mason wasn’t acting out of character in an obvious way. It was small things. A stare that lasted too long, a misplaced question, a longer than normal pause after a directive, but none of that meant that Mason was losing his programming. Still, Stefano felt that Rolf should perhaps take a look at Mason’s microchip to see if it was working correctly. Afterall, if John’s microchip was corroded and unusable, Mason’s could be as well, and Mason’s was an older generation of microchip. Mason’s was the first.

Chapter 73

Brady Pub, Salem

Shane slowly scanned around the room nervously at the people assembled. All of them had been involved in the search for John and Marlena in some capacity. Kim, Shawn, Caroline, Bo, Hope, Carrie, Abe, and Roman. For the last six and a half months they had all been nothing more than game pieces, manipulated and maneuvered by Stefano DiMera in his grotesque revenge plot. The final clues had arrived simultaneously to two of the people present, Shawn and Roman.

Bo found himself frustrated at being jerked around by the machinations of Stefano for half a year of his life, but he also knew that was how Stefano worked. It was all the diabolical scheming of that man’s mind jerking them around so that he could try and reclaim the control he lost when Seraphina fell in love with Shawn. In true Stefano fashion it would end when he deemed it would end. He’d been one step ahead of all of them the whole time.

“So this fits with Stefano, and the shit he does,” Bo said in frustration, tossing the iridescent cardstock onto the bar.

“Inviting people to dinners is part of his plan?” Roman asked incredulously.

“He did it before,” Carrie said softly. “When he kidnapped me. He invited John to dinner, and made him suffer through it. I–I know because I watched it on a television monitor in my room.” Carrie recalled watching John demand to know where she was, while Stefano withheld the information to cause him further anguish.

Shane picked up the invitation with hand written calligraphy and embossed with gold and pearl along the edges. Stefano DiMera requests the pleasure of your company… It would be anything but pleasurable. It was macabre.

Roman stared at the people standing around the room, and he said, “But a dinner invitation?”

“You can be assured, John and Marlena will be there. The invitations were only sent to you and Shawn. They will be there,” Shane said. He was already formulating a plan. They would need to pull other ISA agents into this. It would be foolish to move forward without backup.

“How can you be sure of that?” Roman demanded. He was starting to feel that wild out of control feeling inside of himself. The one that pushed him to make impulsive decisions. He took a deep breath, attempting to hold onto the skills he’d been learning in therapy. 

“When Stefano kidnapped Carrie, he held her in a separate room, and taunted John with the knowledge that she was somewhere on the compound. He also confused John with the Marlena look alike.” Shane looked at Roman, “You weren’t here then, but we were.”

“I think I know enough about Stefano DiMera,” Roman responded haughtily. “I was with him for seven years.”

“You were his prisoner for seven years,” Bo interjected. “You know nothing about all of the ways he tortured this family while you were sequestered on San Cristobal. You know one side of him, Roman…but that’s not the whole story.”

“That’s right,” Shane replied. “Roman, you need to trust us, and you need to let us take the lead on this.”

“That mad man’s got my fucking wife!” Roman roared. “I’m getting really tired of waiting around for something to happen! And while we wait, John, my brother, is having an affair with Marlena!”

Abe watched Roman lose his patience, and forced himself not to shake his head in frustration. Roman still hadn’t been cleared to return to the force, and until his thinking patterns changed he wouldn’t. As close as they had been their lives over the years, Roman’s recent suspension from the police force had put a strain between them, a distance that Abe wished wasn’t there. 

Caroline gasped, “Roman! We can’t concern ourselves with that right now! We need to focus on getting them both home safely.” 

“Whether ye like it or not, Roman, John is me son. He’s yer brother. Ye best be acceptin’ it,” Shawn told him loudly. 

Deciding to intervene before it became too heated, Shane told them, “As soon as I was aware of the invitations, I was given clearance to contact that ISA office in Ireland. Stefano was very clear on the date, time, and location. We have less than a week to put a plan in place, and travel to Ballynacally.” Shane looked at Caroline, and he said, “I’m sorry Caroline, but Roman and Shawn are going to have to come with me.”

“You’re not leaving me here in Salem!” Bo told them. Roman was a wild card, and if anything, Bo felt he needed to be there to keep Roman from flying off the handle. He glanced at Hope, and she nodded her head once in understanding. 

Hope had spent her childhood in Salem watching Roman Brady the hothead fly off at almost everything – loud, brazen, always right. Bo would need to be in Ireland to babysit his big brother, and she understood that. She thought about the danger Bo would be in, and the effect his death would have on her and Shawn D. She knew she couldn’t hide her fear, and there was no way Bo could hide anything from her anyway. She knew firsthand what Stefano was capable of, and she hadn’t told Bo even half of it.

Shane made eye contact with Bo, and Bo knew immediately that he was going, and why. Since Roman’s return, he and Roman had swapped places. Bo had mellowed with age. Maybe it was losing Hope, and realizing that Shawn D was all he had left of her. Roman was the impulsive Brady now. The one who jumped into situations without thinking them out. The one who finger pointed, and laid blame at other people’s feet. Ten years earlier no one would have believed that Bo was being brought along on a mission to keep an eye on Roman.

Roman stared at the people in the room incredulously, “This has got nothing to do with Bo!”

“Bo has been on this case from the very beginning,” Shane told him. “We need him in Ireland. I’ve chartered a jet. We have agents gathering intel as we speak, and Bo is going.”

Kim smiled sadly. This was a danger she didn’t want anyone in her family undertaking. She had to trust that her brothers, and her father came out unscathed. As it stood, her focus needed to be at home. “While Pop, Roman, Bo, and Shane are in Ireland…Ma, Hope, Shawn D, Carrie, and possibly Rebecca will stay at the house with me. Shane has a state of the art security system in the house, and it makes the most sense.”

“I’ve already got officers scheduled for security rotations on the house,” Abe told them. “But it makes the most sense to put everyone who isn’t going to Ireland in a safe location. Stefano has been leading us by the nose this whole time, and I feel that it’s best to do it this way.”

Roman stared at his sister for a moment, “Rebecca? Why would Rebecca need to stay at your house?”

“Dad! Are you serious right now?” Carrie cried, standing up in frustration. “She’s John’s wife, and she’s pregnant with your baby! John’s a Brady, whether you want to acknowledge it or not. My uncle! And that baby Rebecca’s carrying is also a Brady! My little brother! Of course she’s staying at Aunt Kim’s with the rest of us!”

Shame washed over him like a tsunami. Carrie was right. His only thought had been getting to Ireland, and somehow getting his wife back. Having her back in his arms, and far away from John Black. He’d completely overlooked Rebecca, and how she fit into it all. Being John’s wife made her a Brady. She was his sister-in-law. As if a lightbulb went off in his head, Roman realized the complexity of their current situation. He’d had sex with his sister-in-law, and now she was pregnant. Feeling heat rise in his neck, he said, “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll–I’ll go speak with Rebecca tonight, but I’m sure she’ll agree.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Flight to Shannon, Ireland

The roar of the jet’s engine filled the cabin of the plane with a loud hum. The couch, on which Stefano sat with Brandon, was across from where John sat in a single seat with Marlena sleeping in his lap. 

In his leathery, accented voice, Stefano said, “John, you might be more comfortable on the couch.” He glanced over where Mason sat in the other single seat, “Mason would not mind moving to the cockpit. Brandon and I could give you the couch.” In truth, Stefano wanted Mason away from John. Something in his demeanor was disconcerting, and Stefano could not pinpoint what it was. Rolf had assured him that Mason’s microchip was in perfect working order. Stefano wasn’t so sure. 

Mason knew Stefano was watching him. He’d been examined by Rolf before they departed Stockholm.

“I’m not sure,” Rolf said, staring at the monitor in front of him. Leaning towards Mason he readjusted an electrode near the base of Mason’s neck with a frown on his face. Glancing at the screen again he mumbled, more to himself than Mason, “It doesn’t seem to be receiving the signals at the right speed.” 

Rolf looked up, meeting Mason’s deep blue eyes, and he gasped.

Mason reacted quickly, standing and grabbing Rolf’s wrist, twisting it behind the man’s back. In a menacing voice, he whispered in Rolf’s ear, “It’s working fine. That’s what you are going to tell him. Do you understand?”

Rolf gagged when Mason’s forearm wrapped around his throat, and Mason felt a certain satisfaction in that. “You’ve failed again, Rolf. How do you think Stefano is going to feel about that? You fucked up John’s microchip, and now mine is malfunctioning. Do you believe Stefano will show you empathy? I think we both know he won’t.”

Mason tightened his arm, listening to the choking sound Rolf made. “You’re going to keep your mouth shut about this. Do you understand? I’ll save your life, and you’ll fucking say nothing… or I could kill you right now? It would be a more compassionate death than the one Stefano might offer you.”

Mason loosened his hold on Rolf, allowing him only enough air to answer. Rolf rasped out, “Okay…I will say nothing…”

John eyed Stefano, watching how he stared at Mason. Stefano was no fool, he’d noticed a change in Mason’s behavior. John had as well, and he was impressed with Mason’s ability to conceal it so well. With a disgusted grunt, John told Stefano, “Doc and I will stay right where we are.”

“You must be very tired from supporting Marlena’s weight for so long, John,” Stefano replied.

Giving him a hard stare, John said, “We’re not moving.” Unconsciously he shifted Marlena’s body in his lap, and pulled her closer. There was an impending sense of doom inside him. Stefano was studying him too closely. Glancing down at Marlena, John should have felt more relief. She was finally getting restful sleep. Sleep that wasn’t full of fitful breathing, and wracking coughs. Her fever was finally under control. He shouldn’t feel as if something horrible was about to happen, but he did.

Even without knowing where they were going next, John knew that the end of Stefano’s mad game was nearing. Mason was on edge, and while Stefano might perceive the intense stare, and the rigid stance of Mason’s shoulder as those of a man dedicated to his job, John saw something else. Several times since they’d left Stockholm, he’d caught Mason watching him with an odd look in his eyes. As if Mason were having memories, and although he hadn’t said it aloud, John wanted Mason to remember. He wanted his Papi back. He wanted that relationship. The man who had raised him, and become his best friend. It hurt to love someone as much as he loved Mason, and have them look at you with blank eyes.

Stefano’s calm exterior, and aloof behavior, covered an inferno of rage. How dare John, a man who was nothing, dare speak to him that way? There had been a time in John’s life when he hung on Stefano’s every word. A time when Stefano controlled John’s every move, and John had complied without question. Unable to tolerate John’s insubordination, he said to John with a slow drawl, “Enjoy the time you have with Marlena now. You may not have very long.”

“You take her away from me, and I will be the one to end your life,” John replied calmly. Stefano continued to stare at him smugly. Ignoring him, John slid his fingers under the hem of Marlena’s shirt, just over her hip. Tracing over her soft skin, his eyes felt heavy, but he refused to close his eyes. With all of his memories returning, combined with the ones he’d garnered during the last ten years, he knew better than to sleep in Stefano’s presence.

Softly his fingertips stroked their way across Marlena’s abdomen, settling on the soft rounded swell of her belly. John thought about Stockholm…

He sat on the edge of the small, metal framed bed and gently brushed his palm along Marlena’s arm. “Hey, baby…there’s a doctor here. He’s going to look you over.”

She opened her eyes, and turned her fevered face towards John, saying nothing. He looked at the doctor in panic, “She’s been like this for two days. We think it’s pneumonia.”

The doctor placed the stethoscope in his ear, and listened to the breathing sounds in Marlena’s lungs. Nodding his head, he replied, “I’m inclined to agree.”

John watched as the doctor lifted her shirt, and began to gently palpate over her abdomen. The doctor’s fingers stopped, and he glanced up at John, “Is there a chance that she’s pregnant?”

“What?” John asked. There was a chance, but they hadn’t had time to even consider it. Before the doctor could respond, John glanced at the closed door of the bathroom. Slowly he said, “There is a chance…but…”

“I will say nothing,” the doctor said softly. He glanced down at Marlena, “I believe she might be pregnant. I’d estimate about six weeks.”

John stared down at the woman in his lap, and knew that he would protect her with his life, but there were no guarantees. If Stefano wanted to separate them, he would do it. John wouldn’t be able to stop him, and the very thought made him sick. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

John’s Loft

Rebecca slid the loft door open to find Roman standing there with a large plastic container reminiscent of her mothers old Tupperwear. He looked slightly embarrassed as he said, “Ma knew I was coming by, and she told me to bring you this.” He pushed the container towards her saying, “It’s fish chowder.”

Rebecca’s eyes widened, “I’m starving.” Her heart warmed to realize that Caroline had thought of her, and that the initial offer wasn’t hollow. 

Roman almost laughed out loud as she snatched the bowl from his hands, and walked towards the kitchen with a grin spread over her face. He stood there awkwardly, until she glanced over her shoulder, “You can come in.” She reached for a bowl in the upper cabinet, and Roman watched as her shirt pulled tight across her burgeoning abdomen. “Do you want some?”

“No. No. I’m fine. I just came to tell you there’s been direct contact from Stefano,” Roman told her. He’d felt a sense of pride as he’d stared at her body, and that shook him. He shouldn’t feel pride over what he’d done, or the result, and yet he did. He had the craziest impulse to step close to her, and run his hands over her softly rounded belly. 

Rebecca held her bowl gingerly in her hands, and rounded the end of the island. Heading towards the couch, she said, “What happened?”

“Stefano’s done sending vague clues. He sent dinner invitations.” Roman followed her to the couch, and sat across from her on the edge of the cushion. “Sent to myself and Pop, complete with a location, day, and time.”

Rebecca stopped with her spoon halfway to her mouth, and whispered, “Where?”

“Ireland…back where it all started,” he told her. “We had a meeting…at the pub. It’s been decided. Me, Pop, Shane and Bo, we’re going to Ballynacally. Ma, Hope, Shawn D and Carrie are going to be staying at Kimmy’s place. I was hoping… well, we were all hoping that you wouldn’t mind staying there for a while as well. At least until we can get John and Marlena back home.”

“Roman…” Rebecca hedged. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. Your family, and this pregnancy…plus, the situation with John…I’m not sure it’s the best idea–”

Roman reached over, placing his hand on her leg, imploring, “Please? Please, Rebecca? I’ve got so much on my mind, and I need to get Doc back home safely… I’d feel much better knowing that you were at Kim’s. Abe’s going to have officers watching the place, and–”

Rebecca pulled her leg away from the scorching touch of Roman’s hand. Something was going on inside of her. She shouldn’t be reacting to him. Standing up quickly, she’d suddenly lost her appetite. “I don’t see why I need to be part of this.”

She had to see. Roman knew she did, but she was acting as if she didn’t. Why? “Think about it.” Roman stood, following her. “Stefano knows we were together. He had photos taken. Which means, he knows you’re pregnant, and he knows it’s mine. Whether you like it or not, you’re carrying my child, and that makes you a target.”

Rebecca paled, “He wouldn’t.”

Roman stepped closer, taking the still full bowl of chowder from her hands, “He would, and I can’t be in two places at one time. Do this for me. I’ve got to get my wife back, but I can’t be worrying about you.”

Rebecca felt a hollow sort of emptiness settle in her belly. She recognized the emotion for what it was – disappointment, loss, sadness, and she hated herself for it. Roman Brady was nothing to her, and somehow she’d allowed her emotions to become entangled in this pregnancy. The independent, intelligent, detached woman found herself awash in feelings she wasn’t sure what to do with. Roman telling her that he was going after his wife shouldn’t be so painful. Rationally, it shouldn’t hurt her at all. He had an obligation to Marlena. He was married to her after all, but it left Rebecca feeling very alone in the world.

Roman stared at her for a few seconds, waiting for a response, and finally he asked her, “So will you?”

Rebecca shook her head to clear it, and glanced at Roman with wide brown eyes, “Do what?”

Roman repeated in exasperation, “Will you stay at Kim’s while we’re in Ireland?”

“Yes,” she sighed, turning away from him towards the sink. “Yeah, sure. When are you leaving?” Having some time and distance from Roman was probably a good idea.

Chapter 74

Ballynacally, County Clare, Ireland

It was barely a twenty five minute drive from the airport around the Shannon Estuary, and into the small fishing village of Ballnacally. Shawn felt a mixture of sadness and foreboding as memories of his childhood washed over him. The days spent on the fishing boat with his father, and afternoons with his sisters while his feet bathed in the ice cold water of a stream. He was home, and he had always imagined his return to Ireland happening under better circumstances. He’d certainly never imagined he would return upon the invitation of the man who’d exiled him.

Glancing away from the water, he found Shane staring at him. Shawn smiled in an embarrassed sort of way, “I never thought I’d see my homeland again.”

“Are you feeling okay about it?” Shane asked with concern. Shawn had never before looked so worn, at least not in Shane’s memory.

“I left Ireland because Stefano threatened me family. I had no choice. At the time it wasn’t known that it was Stefano. It was all very secretive. The organization was Aremid, and its leader…unknown. A mysterious man none of us ever saw who lived on a hill overlooking the estuary. Paradise House we all called it.” Shawn knew that Bo and Roman, silent in the front seat of the car, were listening intently, but he was done with the secrets. He’d never discussed his past in any real detail, fearing that speaking it aloud would bring it upon them once again. His children had grown up with snippets and anecdotes from his childhood, but they’d never know the dark truth underneath it all. They didn’t know that their father was the head of an organized crime syndicate in Ireland. “I didn’t know his name, and he didn’t know mine. There was no need, until Seraphina. I crossed a line, and he made it his mission to find me. My love for her was as pure as she was, but what it brought upon me family…what it’s done to John…I can never forgive meself for that.”

“Shawn,” Shane said quietly. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I may not have known the full extent of it, but I knew well enough that me love for Phina would complicate an already deeply complicated situation. How many people died because of what Stefano and I were doing? People who were loyal to us and died as a result of it? Me cousins, other men who worked with us… I was in charge, trying to keep control of what was ours in Ireland…but at what expense?” Shawn was quiet for a moment, before saying softly, “In Ireland we fear what’s ours being taken. Rightly so.. and still…” His voice trailed off as he tried to gather his thoughts. “Himself. That was me title, and instead of protecting the men who worked for me… instead of protecting me family… I watched me cousins die at me feet. I lost track of what was important, and I fell in love with one of G-d’s own. An angel she was… and if I hadn’t, none of this–”

“–Pop, you gotta stop this.” Bo stared at the road ahead, his fingers white knuckled as he held the steering wheel. Over the last six months he’d spent a lot of time thinking about his parents when they were young. It wasn’t something children often did. Parents were strong, stable… they nurtured and guided. It wasn’t until recently that Bo had considered their younger versions. He’d thought of his fathers love for Seraphina, and his mothers affair with Victor. In all respects, except genetics, Shawn was his father. “You’ve gotta stop beating yourself up about this. You loved her. You can’t control who you fall in love with. Love just… well, it happens. You never intended for any of this–”

“–but if I’d just–”

“–Stop it, Pop,” Bo responded. “John Black is one of the greatest men I’ve ever known. For years I’ve loved him like a brother, even when I thought he wasn’t. If his mother was anything as loyal, and as loving as he is… it wasn’t a mistake. Stefano DiMera is a fucking sadistic bastard, and he’s responsible for everything you’re blaming yourself for.”

Bo’s words resonated with Roman. You can’t control who you fall in love with. As much as he hated John, Bo was right. Nothing that had happened could be laid at his fathers feet, or even John’s for that matter, as much as he would like to blame him. Roman’s hatred of John stemmed from his love for Marlena, and that was completely separate. Roman had spent years trying to associate John with Stefano, trying to believe somewhere inside his warring mind that John was party to Stefano’s schemes. He couldn’t argue that anymore, because there was no evidence to support it. “Listen, Pop. Bo’s right on this one. We need to focus on the now.”

“People fall in, and out of love. People have affairs, and marriages break up. How many of those end up with a grudge, and a plan for revenge that spans forty-two years?” Shane asked Shawn earnestly.

Shawn stared at Shane for a long moment, before saying sadly, “Me mind, and me heart don’t seem to be in agreement.”

Bo pulled the car onto another smaller, single laned road. Looking in the rearview mirror at his father he asked, “Do you regret it? Loving her? Do you regret John?”

“No!” Shawn exclaimed. “I’d never be regrettin’ that.”

“Then I think you have your answer, Pop. Stefano’s grudge against you… his obsessive desire for revenge, that’s not your fault. That’s his,” Bo told him.

Roman sat silently in the passenger seat rocked by his brother’s words. So simple. So straightforward. Yet they shook Roman to the core. Was his hatred of John justified? Or was it something borne of his own ego? Had his seven years with Stefano corrupted him to the point that he would allow his jealousy of John to fuel a hatred that ran as deep as Stefano’s quest for revenge against Shawn? He was essentially turning into someone he and his family didn’t recognize.

Shawn instructed Bo to pull the car off onto a deeply rutted, unpaved road, and the ride from there was silent. All of the men in the car were lost in their own thoughts. Bo finally parked in front of a stone cottage that seemed to hold a mixture of past and present. The front door and the windows seemed modern, while the build of the home and the straw covered roof seemed timeless. A woman stepped from the doorway, wiping her hands on an apron with a large smile across her face. Bo saw the family resemblance to Shawn immediately. Her hair was white, pulled back from her small face, while her eyes shone as blue as the sky on a summer day.

Shawn was the first one out of the car, moving faster than Roman had seen him move in years. Wrapping his arms around the small woman, Shawn exclaimed, “Clodagh, me girl!”

She laughed with her head thrown back, pushing on Shawn’s chest, “I be too old for this! Put me down, ye fool! Now, ye be puttin’ me down Shawn Brady!”

“Ye haven’t aged a bit,” Shawn told her, setting her down on the ground lightly.

“Ye still be the biggest liar in County Clare too, it seems,” she said with a boisterous laugh. 

Roman glanced around with wide eyes. It was absolutely beautiful land. A part of his soul had been crying out for something he never even knew. The bright emerald green of the fields, and the sound of water trickling nearby filled him up with peace for the first time in years, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. A large orange striped cat pushed up against his leg, purring loudly, and Roman realized that there were several orange cats nearby. Absently he asked, “What’s with all of the damned orange cats?”

Clodagh laughed again, which seemed to be second nature with her. Poking Shawn in the chest roughly, she said, “It’s that damned Orla, that be what!”

“Orla?” Shawn asked quietly. “Phina’s cat?”

“He spent his life tom cattin’ around the whole of Ballynacally,” Clodagh replied.

It was Shawn’s turn to laugh. He thought about his dream, where Seraphina had come to him with Orla in her arms, and he smiled. It was as if she surrounded him right then. He could feel her spirit, and it filled him with warmth. She was with him, and she was going to make sure they all got through their ordeal with Stefano. He could feel it in his soul.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Paradise House, Ballynacally, County Clare, Ireland

As soon as the door was locked, leaving John alone with Marlena in the room at Paradise house, he collapsed onto the bed beside Marlena’s unconscious form. He hadn’t slept in days. While taking care of her, his fear and anxiety over the thought of losing her, had controlled his every waking moment. When he’d laid her body gently into the bed, her eyes had fluttered open, staring up at him. With a tired smile she’d whispered, “John…I love you…” and immediately fell back to sleep. It was enough. It was enough for his body, and his mind to let go.

He rolled towards her, wrapping his arms snugly around her hips, and pulled her close. Taking a deep breath, John ran his nose up the column of her neck, and tried to reassure himself that everything was going to be fine. Marlena was going to live, and beyond anything else, that was his top concern. He touched her face softly, remembering the last time he was at Paradise House. He’d been Stefano’s mercenary then. Those memories often came to him feeling very shallow, hollow almost, because they lacked real emotion. Entering Paradise House had brought up new memories.

“How did he get away?” Stefano roared, staring down at John with bitter resentment. “I brought you here to do one thing! Take out Faolan Brady, and end it here in Ireland once and for all!”

John sat in silence, feeling shame wash over him. His hand pressed against his side where blood slowly trickled from a gunshot wound. He couldn’t tell Stefano what had happened. He didn’t fully understand it himself. He’d located Faolan Brady, the one the people of Ireland called Himself. He’d drawn his weapon, fully intending to carry out the job he’d been instructed to do. He could still hear the click of the gun in his hand as he cocked it, and see the fear in Faolan’s face, but then…there was a woman. 

“Stop!” she’d cried, rushing to stand in front of Faolan.

In the distraction Faolan pulled his own weapon, pushing her to the side, but again, she stepped in between the two of them. “Ye can’t! Ye can’t be shootin’ him!” She stood in front of Faolan, facing him with fierceness. “He be Shawn’s boy! Look at him! Yer family! Yer very own cousin!”

“Do ye think he knows that?” Faolan said in low tones. “Look at him Cladagh? He’s a machine, but he ain’t Shawn’s boy.”

“Please!” she begged.

John paused, confused by what was happening, and in that brief few seconds, Faolan shot him. He fell to the ground, and when he looked up both of them were gone. He’d barely managed to get himself back to Paradise House. Sitting before Stefano he finally lifted his head, and said, “I fucked up. I made a mistake. I hesitated.”

“Hesitated?” Stefano slammed his fist on the table next to him, causing an antique marble statue to crash to the tiled floor. “You do not hesitate!”

“I understand,” he replied. But he didn’t understand at all.

John lay with Marlena in his arms, stroking over her gently, lost in his own thoughts. That had been the beginning. He’d been reassigned soon after, and found himself caught up in a forbidden, whirlwind romance with Gina while posing as a priest. That one moment in time had planted a seed of rebellion within him. It had left him wondering who he was. Who had he been before he was John Black? Who was the woman who’d possibly saved his life, and who was Shawn? Over the following year he’d grown more, and more defiant, until Stefano wiped out his mind once more, leaving him in Salem to fall in love with the women in his arms.

Marlena moaned softly, burrowing deeper into his arms. John’s eyes became heavy. Warmth, contentment, and sleep started to take over. He murmured softly, “I love you so fucking much, Doc.”

As fatigue washed over him, he heard her sleep laden words softly in his ear, “I love you too, Sailor.”

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. He could spend the rest of his life with her in his arms, and be happy until the day he died. Darkness tried to push into his mind, insecurity, anxiety, apprehension, but he pushed it all down. Nothing would intrude on that moment. He had time to stress, and worry when they woke up. He could tell Marlena about the possibility of a baby then as well. Within moments, locked in the warmth of the bed, with her nestled against him, John fell asleep.

From a monitor in Stefano’s study, Mason and Stefano watched John fall asleep. A feral smile took over Stefano’s face as he turned to Mason, “I want them separated tomorrow. Do you understand?”

It was a test. Mason knew that. He couldn’t question Stefano’s decision, he couldn’t pause, or do anything out of character. Nodding his head, he said, “How would you like that carried out?”

Still smiling, Stefano tapped his fingers on the dark wood of his desk, finally saying, “Call a doctor in for a check-up on Marlena and then… sedate them both. It’s the easiest way. Make sure Marlena is sedated first. I don’t need any additional stress on her right now. For what I have planned I need her to be healthy. I need the angry, feisty, woman I remember from our previous encounters. I need the version of Marlena that Roman Brady won’t even recognize.” 

Chapter 75

Clodagh Brady Farm House, Ballynacally, County Clare, Ireland

Shawn stared down at the plate of food Clodagh sat in front of him, and he could feel the pull in his salivary glands so hard that it almost hurt. Thick cut bacon, fried eggs, beans, stewed mushrooms, and blood sausage. “Now, Clodagh, ye be spoilin’ me for sure!”

Bo, Roman, and Shane stared at the large plates of food before them, and started eating without another word, except for Roman to say with his mouth full of beans, “This is amazing.”

Bo and Shane proceeded to nod their heads in agreement.

Sitting down with her own plate, Clodagh was quiet for a moment before she said carefully, “I got a call from Dr. Murphey’s wife this morning…”

All of the men at the table stopped eating, and stared at her.

“Now, I don’t want ye overreactin’, Shawn. Ye hear me?” she asked him with a stern look. “Seems, there was a call early this mornin’ for a doctor to pay a visit to Paradise House this afternoon.”

Shane wiped his mouth, swallowing his food, “Do we know who the call is for?”

“A woman. Maeve said they told Brian she was gettin’ over pneumonia, and needed follow-up,” Clodagh finished.

Roman stood up so abruptly, he nearly knocked the table over, “Then we know she’s here! Shane! We’ve got to move now!”

Bo reached out, placing a calming hand on his brother’s arm, “Whoa! Slow your roll, Roman!”

“We can’t simply burst into Stefano’s home,” Shane told him. “It’s heavily guarded–”

“He’s got, Doc!” Roman roared.

Shawn stood up, his face red with rage, “He’s got yer brother too, Roman! We’re not bustin’ in there without a plan! Sit down!”

Bo stared at his father with a smirk as Roman sheepishly sank back into his seat.

Sighing, Shane said, “I was in touch with the ISA office in Dublin. They need time to work on this. Stefano’s dinner isn’t for a week. We have to play the game his way, Roman. We have no choice.”

Roman sat in silence. All he cared about was getting Marlena away from the man who had taken seven years of his life. John be damned. He could be someone else’s problem.

“Ye think I don’t see it in yer eyes, Roman?” Shawn asked him, settling back into his chair. “I mention John’s name, and yer eyes go cold. He’s family. Whether ye accept it or not, he’s family. My son! Yer brother! John never asked for this. Ye need to put the jealousy aside!”

Standing up, Roman pushed his chair back roughly. He knew there was nothing else he could say without sounding like a petulant child, so instead he stormed outside.

“We should have left his ass at home,” Bo mumbled.

“Stefano’s invitation was for Shawn and Roman,” Shane reminded him. “He had to come.”

“He’s unpredictable, and fucking stubborn,” Bo told him.

Clodagh laughed, “He reminds me of someone else that be sittin’ at this table. Let him walk it off. He’ll be right fine in a few, and then ye can reason with him.”

“Stefano has something awful planned,” Bo worried. “ And whatever it is… has the potential to destroy this family. Roman is a G-d damned loose cannon, Shane. He could potentially fuck everything up, and not even care.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Paradise House, Ballynacally, County Clare, Ireland

John woke in the early hours of morning to the feeling of the bed rocking with Marlena’s cough. He could hear the congestion breaking up, and even though he knew she was getting better, it wasn’t fast enough. He’d seen something in Stefano’s eyes the night before. A look that was familiar. He was going to separate them, and as much as John wished he would be able to stop it, there was a sense of helplessness that said there was nothing he could do. Rolling out of bed, John walked towards the bathroom, intent on getting Marlena a glass of water. 

Marlena’s eyes opened to see the haze of morning in unfamiliar surroundings. They’d been moved again. No longer in the freezing caverns under Stockholm, she found herself in a bedroom with white crown molding and large paintings in gold, ornate frames. The bed beside her was still warm, but her skin missed the warmth that she had grown used to having John near. She could hear the water running in the bathroom, and smiled softly when John walked towards her with a glass of water. He was beautiful. Well chiseled muscles and a lightly furred chest. Even with a weak body, her mind almost purred.

“What’s got you smiling this morning?” he asked her as he settled in beside her.

“I was just admiring you,” she said with a raspy voice.

“Admiring, huh?” he replied with a smile. Setting the water on the bedside table he reached for her, “Scoot up on the pillows, Doc, and drink some of this…I guess if you’re admiring me, you must be feeling better.”

Still looking around, Marlena asked, “Where are we?”

“We’re in Ireland. If what I overheard last night is correct, we might be nearing the end of this.” Marlena looked up at him, handing him the water, and John said, “I heard Stefano mention plans for a formal dinner. If Roman and Shawn aren’t in Ireland yet, they will be.”

“How can you be sure?” 

“When Stefano kidnapped Carrie…and he did something similar. Luring me to Baliceaux because he had my daughter, and taunting me with you. He forced me to sit through a dinner while he gloated over what he was doing,” he told her. His chest felt tight remembering the anguish he’d felt. He’d never been so scared and helpless…so furious. He’d expected Stefano’s games to be directed at him. Stefano taking Carrie left him feeling powerless, and enraged. “He taunted me with memories of you, and a woman he’d hired to mess with my mind. I chased her every time I caught a glance. I had given up ever catching her…until I thought I caught you.”

“Me? John, I wasn’t there,” Marlena said softly.

“It’s so confusing. I thought for the longest time that it was a dream. It was hazy in my memories. Dream-like…but recently, as my memories are returning, I’m not sure if it was a dream.”

Marlena had her own memory; one that she’d had for years. A hazy, unclear, dream-like memory that left her doubting if it had ever happened at all. Sometimes it came to her at the soft place between sleep and wakefulness. Other times, it came to her as she daydreamed in her office. “Tell me,” she whispered.

“I was following you through a maze of hallways. You always seemed to be several steps ahead. I would get flashes of the edge of a dress, or a swirl of long blonde hair as you turned a corner, but never your face, and I was desperate… so desperate to see your face. I remember stepping outside, into the blinding sun, and watching as you ran towards the beach.”

As John spoke, Marlena could picture everything he was saying. What she had thought was a dream was being described by him with such detail that she found herself doubting if it was a dream at all. She waited for him to continue, but he had stopped. Finally, he said, “He’s been playing with my mind for years…I remember…”

Sitting forward, she placed her palm softly on his arm, “John…what? What are you remembering?”

“A room…full of mirrors. Stefano had used the pagoda to place me in a trance. He–he ordered me to kill Diana. I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it,” he said.

He was staring at the wall behind her head, as if he were still there, stuck in that room of mirrors. His face was placid, almost trance-like, but there was something underneath it. She could imagine that he felt a war within himself, feeling impelled to do as Stefano instructed while fighting it as hard as he could. John’s eyes moved quickly, catching hers, and she felt the full force of his distress. “I’m here, John, honey…tell me about it,” she said softly, reaching for him. “Tell me about the room.”

John’s breath stuttered as he started to speak, “I–I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t shoot her. I aimed my gun, and I felt compelled to fire it. Stefano’s voice echoed around me. His laughter, the mirrors… it was all intended to keep me disoriented, but somehow, I was able to hold back. His shouts grew louder…”

“Roman?” Diana asked. He saw the fear in her eyes, and the uncertainty. “Roman, what are you doing? No! No! Roman… Roman, it’s me… Diana.”

He cocked the gun, staring straight ahead. He was at war with himself. He couldn’t do it, and yet he leveled the gun at her head.

“No, Roman, don’t!” she said carefully, trying to step further away. Her back hit a mirror, and her eyes went wide, “I command you to come out of the trance now!”

He stepped closer.

“Roman,” she whispered. “Roman, listen to me please. You are not the Pawn. You can break this trance. You are Commander Roman Brady. Do you understand?”

He could feel her pulling at threads in his mind, weaving them together, and he fought even harder to break away from whatever hold Stefano had on him. 

“You are mine, Roman Brady! Once and for all!” Stefano said, stepping forward. John couldn’t be certain where he was. All he could see was a blurred, distorted reflection in the dim light.

“No!” Diana screamed. 

“Do it!” Stefano commanded. John felt his finger tighten on the trigger, even as his hand shook trying to stop himself. “Do it! Do it. I said, do it!” 

Just as he pulled the trigger, he turned, and fired at Stefano. John fell to the ground gasping for air as wrenching pain tore through his head.

“Oh, honey. My darling,” Marlena said softly, sliding forward to reach for him. “Oh, my darling.” His anguish was palpable. Deep blue eyes stared at her with such sadness she felt it coming like waves through her soul. How he must have fought to break that trance… how much it must have scared him to lose control that way.

John felt as if he could melt into her, breathing deeply, he whispered, “I don’t know what I would do without you. I don’t know who… or what I would be without you.” His heart pounded, the beating so intense it created a physical feeling in his temples. He’d almost shot Diana, but it was more than that. He’d been so close. So close to doing it, and that single instance had planted a seed of fear in him that still existed. Could he be forced to hurt someone he loved? Did Stefano wield that power? And if he did, was Marlena safe? Was anyone in his life ever truly safe? A sob tore free of his chest, choking him.

Marlena kissed him softly, “I’m sorry.” She kissed his eyes, and his cheeks, she kissed the tip of his nose, and still she whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

And John knew she wasn’t apologizing for anything she had done. She was apologizing for what had been done to him. She was feeling his pain as if it were her own, and he didn’t think he could love her any more. 

John’s lips found the soft skin of her neck, and his arms pulled her body closer. Marlena moaned softly in his ear, and he could feel the rumble against his chest. “I love you,” he whispered.

“Come lay with me,” she told him. “Come hold me, and tell me the rest. So I understand. I don’t want you to feel this alone.”

Forgetting the water he had brought her, he slid back into bed next to her, and nuzzled his face into the sweet skin underneath her hair. Closing his eyes, wishing he could do something to make the memories stop, he mumbled, “It was a formal dinner. He sent the clothes we were supposed to wear. Diana a fiery red dress, and myself a tuxedo. I was sick of the games…so sick of them, but I had to play along, because he had Carrie…”

Diana sat across from him, and he sat in the seat he was directed towards. A cold fear gripped him, even as he tried to act unphased. This was no longer just him and Stefano, his family was involved. Diana had been pulled into it. 

“So where’s our host?” he asked. 

“He’ll be here with you shortly,” Stefano’s employee responded.

“Well, that’s fine with me,” he said, settling into his seat. “More time to check the room out here. All the trap doors, surveillance equipment… that’s right Stefano. I know you’re listening to me, but that’s okay, I’m gonna whip ya. It’s just a matter of time.” John immediately felt restless, and stood up again.

“Baccarat crystal? Limoge china? This Stefano really knows how to spend money, doesn’t he?” Diana said, staring at the table setting in front of her. 

Walking behind her with heavy feet, he replied, “He’s into doing everything in a big way.” Raising his voice, he said loudly, “I hope you’re listening to me Stefano! I want you to know something point blank, things have changed. Yeah, and I’m not leaving here this time, until I’m the winner.”

“He allowed Diana and I to sit at that table alone for over an hour,” he told Marlena. “The whole time I felt the fear rising inside me like a tide I couldn’t hold back. I knew he had Carrie somewhere in his compound… and I–I thought I’d seen you earlier. I was a mess. I remember finally looking at Diana and telling her… I’d been there before.”

“…I sat right in these seats, and I ate right at this table,” he told Diana.

She looked surprised, asking him softly, “What else do you remember?”

Suddenly, he heard Carrie’s voice calling for him, “Dad! I’m here!” His heart started to race. “Help me!” she cried. “Dad! Please help me! Please! Dad, help me!”

He glanced at Diana, wondering if his mind was playing tricks. It was so faint. “Do you hear that?”

“Yes,” she told him. 

“Dad!” Carrie cried. “I’m here! Help!”

Standing up, he looked around furtively, panic taking over. “That’s Carrie! I can hear her voice!” 

“Dad! Help me!” she said. “Dad, I’m here!” But it was so faint he could barely hear it. Diana stood up, and John held his hands up, begging her not to speak. 

He turned slowly in a circle, trying to determine where the sound was coming from, desperate to get to his daughter.

“I can hear her too, Roman,” Diana said quietly. 

Approaching the wall in a panic, he frantically said, “I think it’s coming from behind here! Behind this china cabinet!” He started to pull at the wood, trying to find a way to pull it open.

“What are you doing?” Diana asked, rushing towards him. 

He pulled harder, “I’m looking for a trap door, Diana! And I know there’s one here.” He felt underneath the shelf, all the while listening to the helpless cries of his daughter begging him to find her… begging him to save her. He felt helpless, and then suddenly, as if he’d conjured it from the mist, he remembered. 

Diana watched him curiously, “What is it?”

“I think I just remembered something.” He walked towards the large dining table, reaching underneath the edge. He felt for the button he knew was there, and would trigger the wall opening. He tossed the edge of the table cloth up, “Yeah, stand back.” He almost sighed with relief as he pushed the button, and heard the click in the wall. The shelf swung wide, and he grabbed at Diana’s hand, pulling her behind him, crying, “Carrie! Carrie, baby?”

After running into the hidden room, he found it empty. There was a tape recorder on a pedestal in which Carrie’s panic-stricken voice cried out for him. John nearly collapsed. The breath was taken from his body as he stared helplessly at the machine before him. 

Stefano laughed behind him, “Very realistic, wouldn’t you say?”

Marlena could feel John’s tears trailing down her neck as he whispered, “When I turned around, Stefano sat at the head of the dining room table with a smug grin, while I was dying inside. I was fucking dying inside…”

Chapter 76

November 16, 1988

Baliceaux Island, Caribbean Sea

He watched, surprise etched in his face as the woman disappeared between a collection of boulders. The ocean breeze blew across his skin warming him as he mumbled, “Where did she go? She can’t have simply vanished.” He took a deep breath of the salty air, and he wondered if he’d imagined her, or if he were simply mad. His eyes scanned the length of the beach, noting the trail left behind in the sand by her feet. Following where she led, he edged between two boulders. That was when he noticed a hidden door. Engaging the latch, he pushed inside. 

As if he’d walked through a portal to Salem, he stood inside an exact copy of his living room. Every corner, every vase, and every book matched his home perfectly. On the mantle he saw exact replicas of the wine glasses he’d bought Marlena on their anniversary. He looked around in confusion, whispering, “No…no…”

Why? Why would Stefano do something like this? What would possess him to build it, and then hide it? There was too much detail for it to be nothing. As much as he’d tried to believe that it was all another game of wits, this house shouldn’t exist. And the existence of the house led him to believe that possibly, just possibly, Marlena existed as well. Fear and desperation rose up inside him like a tidal wave as his mind tried to rationalize what he was seeing. “No…no,” he whispered. “There’s got to be a reason. It’s all a game…a farce.”

But he couldn’t deny what his eyes clearly saw. It was eerie, as if the house were covered by a tent. The brightness that normally filled the room through the French doors was gone. The gloom in the living room was off putting. He glanced around, turning in a circle slowly, almost forgetting why he had come there to begin with, until he heard a thump upstairs. “The woman!” he cried softly. 

He turned on his heel quickly, heading for the stairs, and took them two at a time. She was there. She was somewhere in this house, and he wouldn’t rest until he saw her. He wouldn’t be able to move on with his life until he was reassured that whoever he was following was not Marlena. Standing on the landing at the top of the stairs, he could feel the tightness in his chest. Something in his body told him that his life was about to change forever, and still he denied it, refusing to allow hope to take root. Another thump, and a quiet shuffle sounded in his ears. Slowly, he began the walk down the hallway towards what should be the master bedroom. His heart was pumping so hard he could hear the blood rushing in his veins, and feel the throb in the side of his neck. Perspiration coated his forehead, which he wiped at hurriedly.

Pausing outside of the room, he took in a shaky breath, almost afraid to turn the doorknob and enter. Another soft sound and shuffle, almost begging him to move forward, and he was stepping over the threshold into the bedroom. Glancing around furtively, his eyes scanned the room for the women he was seeking. She had evaded him for days, and he had to know who she was. If he found her, he could prove it. He could prove that she wasn’t Marlena. Because, it wasn’t Marlena. It couldn’t be Marlena. And he believed this, right up until the moment that she stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a large bath towel. Tendrils of wet hair clung to her neck, while the rest was piled high atop her head in a way that was so familiar it took the breath from his body.

Marlena stood frozen, unable to move or say anything. She should be scared. She should scream, or run, but she didn’t. She didn’t feel those impulses, instead she studied the man standing before her with a strong sense of knowing.  Stepping slightly closer, she said softly, “Who are you?”

This was not happening. The logical part of his mind was telling him it was impossible, while his heart, his eyes, and his soul were begging him to get closer. It was Marlena. “Doc?”

Doc? Why was he calling her Doc? Looking down, she stepped back. Maybe she was wrong in what she was feeling. “I–I think maybe you have me confused with someone else… and I think… you’re not supposed to be here… in my house,” she said carefully. Glancing up, she started to grow more wary of the pained expression on the man’s face.

His feet brought him closer, hoping to memorize every nuance of her. His hand shook with the effort it took not to reach for her. As much as he wanted to continue to deny that it was her, he couldn’t. Stefano could do a lot of things, but her voice… he couldn’t fake her voice. Lifting his hand out, he stepped closer, realizing immediately it was a mistake. She stepped back quickly. “Doc,” he rasped in a choked voice. “Marlena…”

“Lena,” she whispered. “My name is Lena.”

“Lena,” he replied softly. He continued to study her, “Do you recognize me at all?”

She tipped her head slightly, staring at him curiously, “Should I?”

He wasn’t sure what to do, or even how to proceed. Stefano had manipulated her mind, probably the same way he’d manipulated his. Trying to be as non-threatening as possible, he smiled, chuckling softly. “Yeah, Doc. Yeah, you should recognize me.”

There it was again. Doc. There was an easiness in his tone, a softness and an intimacy she didn’t understand. She stepped closer, holding her towel to her body tightly. Something about the way he stood before her, the vulnerability in his eyes, drew her towards him. How could he be so familiar, and yet, completely unfamiliar at the same time? Softly, she said, “Tell me.”

Without further thought he reached out, not stepping any closer. He didn’t want to scare her, but he had to touch her. If not for anything than to reassure himself that this was not a dream or a hallucination. He stroked the tips of his fingers over the soft skin along her collarbone, and he watched as her body shivered. She was real. Her scent, a smell so familiar, filled his lungs. Resisting the urge to tug her closer, he sighed, “Oh, Doc…

Her eyes closed. The gentle slide of his fingers across her bare shoulder pulled at memories that wouldn’t coalesce. Leaning forward slightly, she whispered, “Who are you?”

“I’m your husband.” He continued to trace over her skin, lightly tracing the shape of her ear, and the length of her neck. “You’re my wife,” he told her in a tender tone. His knuckles ran the length of her jaw. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He seemed so sad, so lost. “I–I don’t remember,” she said. “Stefano… he said he found me. He said he didn’t know who I was… but, you…”

Telling her the truth would upset everything she thought she knew, but he couldn’t allow her to continue to believe Stefano’s lies. Pushing his impulses down, he continued to look at her with kindness and love. Gently, he said, “Stefano can’t be trusted. I… we thought you were dead.”

“We?” she asked.

“Me… the children… your parents,” he told her, still stroking the skin of her neck. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her. Slipping his fingers along her flesh, his hand cupped the back of her head, as he continued to stare at her in awe. He wasn’t sure when he’d gotten so close to her, but he was able to see the flecks of brown and green amidst the amber of her eyes. “We all thought you were gone.”

Loneliness, which had been her constant companion since she’d woken up, started to lift slightly. It was odd. She’d never really been able to put a name on it until that very moment. She was a wife, a mother, a daughter. She wasn’t alone. She was missed, and she was loved. That meant something. She could feel the sting in her eyes as they grew hot with tears. Her vision blurred, and in it she was consumed with a tall dark haired man with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. Could a person fall in love in mere minutes? 

“Aw, baby,” Roman cooed softly. “Don’t cry… please, don’t cry. We’ll… we’ll figure this out.” The impulse to pull her close  and hold her against him was strong. He knew just how she would fit against him, and how soft and silken her hair would feel as he stroked her head in reassurance, but still he held himself back slightly, afraid to move too quickly. His fingers gently lifted her chin, tipping her face up, as he whispered, “I need you to trust me. Can you do that? Can you trust me to get us out of this?”

Staring up at him, she repeated, “Trust you?”

He wiped the tears from her soft cheeks, “Can you?”

Could she? Did she? A tug inside her said, yes. So, she  nodded her head slowly, watching him. “I think so.”

Even still after all this time, he loved her like no other. He smiled, “That’s my girl.”

Warmth filled her, and she smiled at him shyly, reaching up to place her palm gently on his face. His girl. A want inside her started to ache. She belonged to someone. He wanted her.

“Stefano… he’s dangerous,” he told her. “I don’t know what his plan is. Maybe, it’s just to hurt me, but he can’t be trusted.”

Marlena was confused, remembering how kind Stefano had been to her. “He’s taken care of me. He promised to help me find my family. He said he loved me.”

Roman’s gut clenched. Just the thought of Stefano loving her made him ill. Tilting his face down to hers, he said carefully, “Lena… I know I’m a stranger to you, and Stefano’s not, but I am your family. Your children, Carrie, Eric, and Sami are your family. Stefano knows this. He knows, and he’s kept you away from us.”

She stared up at him, “But why? I don’t understand.”

“That’s why I need you to trust me. I’ve got to…” His hands pulled at his own hair in frustration. “Shit!” How was he going to be able to save Carrie and Marlena? What about Diana? He felt his anxiety rising because he had to save his daughter, and he couldn’t lose Marlena again. He couldn’t. He sat on the end of the bed, trying to gather his thoughts, and formulate a plan.

Marlena stood silently where he’d left her, watching him be as vulnerable as she’d ever seen any man be, and something about it… something about him made her reach out.

Her gentle fingers were a barely there touch on his bowed head, and then he heard her say, “I–I trust you. I’ll… follow you.”

Looking up, he said in an almost defeated tone, “You have no reason to.”

A shy smile lit her face, “My heart. It’s telling me that I should follow anywhere you lead… and I trust that.”

“What a touching scene,” Stefano said from the doorway. Marlena and Roman both glanced up quickly, and Roman immediately moved to shield her from Stefano’s view. “Ah, now, Roman, you do not need to protect Lena from me. There is no need.”

“No need?” Roman replied with a sneer. “No need? You’ve kept her from her family. You’ve not allowed her to watch her children grow up! The twins are four years old! Carrie is twelve! You stole time from her.”

“I love Lena,” Stefano replied, as if that one statement made up for what he’d done.

Behind Roman, Marlena said, “You told me you would help me find my family, but you’ve always known where they were… and you kept me from them. Why? Why would you do that?”

“You see, Roman? You’ve upset her, and that was not necessary. I do not like to see Lena sad or upset.” Stefano glanced at her, and said with a soft voice, “Lena, darling, you must be cold. Why don’t you go get dressed?”

She stared at Stefano warily, afraid to leave Roman alone with him. Something wasn’t sitting right with her. Reaching for Roman’s hand, she started backing towards the closet, pulling him with her. 

Roman could sense her fear. He could feel it as deeply as if it were his own. He heard Stefano sigh, but it was too late. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stefano pull an object from his pocket. A simple acorn balanced on his palm. Marlena stopped moving immediately, her eyes trained on the object seated in his hand. In a single instance, she was gone. Her eyes went blank, and she stared unseeing.

Roman turned to face her in a panic, “Doc! Doc!”

“I really wish you had not come here, Roman. This could have been avoided,” Stefano told him as if he were scolding a child.

Roman stared at Marlena helplessly, “What the fuck did you do to her you bastard?”

“I have helped her, Roman. She would be quite upset to be separated from you after your truth session. This way, she won’t remember any of it. It was quite inconsiderate for you to do something that would cause her so much pain.”

“She’s my wife!” Roman roared. “And now that I know you have her, I will never give up! I will never stop searching!”

“Ah, ah, ah…Roman you continue to underestimate me,” Stefano replied with a smug smirk. With a flick of his wrist, a small red pagoda sat in his other palm, and with a laugh, Stefano watched as Roman Brady stood transfixed, lost in his own mind. He placed the acorn in his pocket. His rough voice said, “Lena?”

Marlena’s eyes fluttered as she glanced around. Realizing she was nearly naked, she blushed deeply, and clutched at the towel wrapped around her. She was immediately confused, staring at the immobile man beside her. He had dark hair, and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. “What happened?”

“Nothing that I cannot handle. Go and get dressed. I will have this taken care of before you return,” he told her.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered.

Stepping closer, he said, “You do not need to understand. I will protect you. I will always protect you.”

Marlena glanced one last time at the man standing immobile beside her, and then she turned to the dresser behind her, and selected her clothing for the day without another word. Stefano would protect her and keep her safe, and that’s all she needed to concern herself with.

Chapter 77

Kim and Shane Donovan Residence

Carrie listened as the telephone rang, hoping that someone would pick up. She’d been trying to call her grandparents to speak with the twins ever since her dad had left for Ireland. Their birthday was coming up in a few days, and she felt like a horrible big sister, since she hadn’t spoken to them in weeks. When her grandmother picked up the phone, Carrie said, “Hey! It’s me.”

“Carrie, darling!” Martha said with exaggerated joviality. Sami was sitting at the coffee table with a bucket of crayons and a Lisa Frank coloring book. Her movements stilled, the crayon dropped from her hand and she stood up staring at Matha with angry eyes. Within seconds she was stomping from the room. Martha sighed softly.

Oblivious to the drama in the Evans household, Carrie said, “I was hoping to speak with the twins. It’s their birthday in a couple days.”

Martha was quiet for a moment, and then she said gently, “Sami is really struggling right now. I understand the situation, but it’s been so long… since Roman has called…and Marlena…the children, well, they’re confused, Carrie. Not telling them about the kidnapping was a good decision at first, but I feel like it’s gone too long. Eric and Sami, well, they just feel abandoned now… but I was waiting to speak with Roman…”

Carrie felt tears rising in her eyes. She remembered the confusion when she was young, when the whole family had thought Roman died. The sadness and anger she felt during Marlena’s coma… or when they believed that Marlena was dead. Those were emotions that she still found complicated, and she was an adult. She could only imagine how Eric and Sami were feeling. “Dad’s gone to Ireland to try and bring Marlena home–”

“–he could have called. Roman hasn’t called once since the beginning of September, and even then he only spoke to me!” Martha replied in frustration. “I understand that searching for Marlena is imperative, but to completely forget to check on the children is wrong. I have left repeated messages, Carrie, and now you’re telling me he’s left the country?”

Carrie was at a loss for words. Her grandmother’s frustration was understandable. He hadn’t called the twins? “When was the last time he spoke to them?”

Martha took a deep breath, “When Marlena called, before she left for the conference in Oklahoma.”

More than six months. Her chest constricted as she whispered, “They must be so confused, and scared.”

Martha glanced over and saw Frank standing in the doorway, holding Eric by the hand. Both of them were watching her intently, but Eric had a maturity in his eyes that shouldn’t be there. He was too young to stare at her with eyes that were full of so much sadness. Not at the age of ten. He pulled his hand from Frank’s and turned, walking away. Martha said, “Samantha is angry. She’s acting out at school and being aggressive. Eric… is feeling abandoned. They are both feeling abandoned, they’re just handling it differently.”

“We should tell them,” Carrie said. “About Marlena, and… I want to bring them home.” Carrie decided within seconds, “Yeah…I’m going to come get them. Me and Aunt Kim.”

Kim looked up from the magazine she was reading to watch Carrie with interest. Her skin had gone pale, and her voice wavered as she said, “I know what they’re feeling. I felt that, and I’m–I’m going to do what Dad used to do with me…I’m going to tell them the truth.”

Martha was confused, and then she realized Carrie was not speaking about Roman. “You mean John.”

Carrie wiped at her eyes, and Kim stood up stepping closer to her niece. “He never… he never left me feeling alone and scared. He answered my questions and he made me feel safe. So, yeah…Aunt Kim and I are going to come and get them. We’re going to tell them the truth.”

Martha sighed, “When?” Carrie was very young to be making these decisions, but Martha felt like Roman had left her no choice. 

Carrie glanced at Kim, “When can we go to Colorado?”

Wiping the tears from Carrie’s cheeks, Kim whispered, “Tomorrow. We can get there tomorrow.”

“I’m coming tomorrow, grandma, with Aunt Kim. Can you… can you tell the twins for me?” Carrie asked her.

Martha knew she had a hard task ahead of her, but it was possible that Carrie had a harder one. Melting the ice inside Sami was one, and bringing Eric back from the brink of melancholy was another. What she was certain of was that she and Frank couldn’t provide what they needed, as much as they wanted to. Eric and Sami needed their parents. They needed Carrie, and if she was being honest… they needed John back in their lives.

“I’ll speak with them as soon as I get off the phone, darling. Do you want me to explain everything or wait for you?”

Carrie looked at Kim, not feeling confident in the decisions she was being asked to make. But one look into her aunt’s eyes, and she said firmly, “I’d like to wait until I’m there… with Aunt Kim. She’s a therapist and–and I think she’ll be able to help explain things in a way they’ll understand.”

Feeling a sense of rightness in Carrie’s words, Martha replied, “I agree. That would probably be best.”

Kim reached for the phone, and Carrie handed it to her. Softly Kim said, “Martha, it’s Kim. We can be there around breakfast tomorrow. Does that work for you?”

“Yes. Yes, that will be fine.” Martha felt a relief course through her body. The twins were hurting. They were hurting so very much and it was time for the truth. Because she had a very strong feeling that the truth about Marlena and John’s kidnapping, while it may upset them and cause them fear, it would resolve so much of the anger and animosity. That anger was destroying Sami and Eric. The feelings of abandonment were much more damaging.

As Martha hung up the telephone, Sami came around the corner gripping Eric’s hand like a tether to her childlike sanity. He was the only one she could depend on. Eric knew all of her secrets and he would never leave her. She stared at her grandmother with blue eyes flashing with fierceness, “I don’t want her here! I don’t want any of them here!”

“My sweet girl,” Martha said softly. Walking towards the couch she wrapped Sami’s small hand in hers, pulling both children behind her like a train. She settled into the sofa, and touched Sami’s cheek, “Sometimes things are not as we perceive them. Carrie is coming tomorrow, with your Aunt Kim.”

Eric’s eyes brightened, “Aunt Kim?”

Begrudgingly, Sami replied, “Well…Aunt Kim ain’t so bad.”

“There is much that you aren’t aware of. We’ve decided it’s time for you to know the truth. This has gone on for much too long, and you’re going to be eleven in a few days.” Sami moved to sit beside her, and Martha smiled at how easily Eric settled beside Sami. They moved as if they were one piece. “Kim and Carrie are coming to explain everything.”

“Why can’t you explain everything, then I don’t have to see Carrie-dumb-face,” Sami said bitterly.

“Samantha Gene Brady! We will not be calling your sister names. It’s not becoming of a lady,” Martha scolded.

“Maybe I don’t want to be a lady,” Sami mumbled.

Martha tried to hide her smile, but Sami was so much like her own Samantha that it made her love the child even more. “Go get ready for lunch. They are coming for breakfast, and that’s the end of it.”

Frank stood in the doorway watching the twins get up reluctantly and head towards the sink in the kitchen to wash their hands. Martha approached and stopped in front of him, placing her palm on his chest. Barely above a whisper, she said, “I hope Roman brings her home… and as much as he hates John, I hope he can find it within himself to save him too. For the twins. For Marlena. He has to bring John home too.”

Sami watched her grandparents with sly eyes, wondering why she heard her grandmother say John, but she knew if she asked, she would get no answers. All she could do was wait until the following morning.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Paradise House, Ballynacally, County Clare, Ireland

John was suspicious as soon as the doctor entered the room. His common sense was at war with his need for Marlena to receive medical care, but Stefano darkening the doorway caused his apprehension to grow. Something was off, and the growing fear he’d had that Stefano planned to separate them seemed to swell inside him. 

Marlena glanced up weakly from where she lay on the bed. The doctor had kind eyes, but in the world of Stefano DiMera, kind eyes meant nothing if a man or woman were being blackmailed. He could force anyone to compromise their morals if he threatened their loved ones. She smiled wanly, and then her eyes sought John. Reaching for him, her hand lifted, but then fell limply back to the bed beside her. John came closer, twining his fingers through hers as he knelt beside the bed. “Hey, pretty lady.”

“Hey, Sailor,” she whispered.

“Mrs. Brady,” the doctor said. “I’m Dr. Murphey. I hear ye be recoverin’ from a nasty bout of pneumonia. Well, don’t ye worry. I’ll get ye fixed right up.” Guilt wracked his gut. He would most definitely ensure her health, but he’d also been ordered to provide two sedatives. Rumors of Aremid had been the stories of horror he’d grown up on. The stories that had been designed to scare the local children, and keep them from trouble. Well, Aremid now had a face and a name… Stefano DiMera.

After listening to her heart and lungs, after taking her blood pressure, Dr. Murphey pulled a syringe from his bag. John was on his feet immediately, “What is that?”

“An antibiotic,” Dr. Murphey said carefully. “Nothing more.”

John didn’t trust him. He didn’t trust Mason, who stood nearby. He didn’t trust Stefano, standing in the doorway, like a foreboding sentinel waiting to steal what he wanted. But then he glanced at Marlena, weak, needing appropriate care. He stepped back reluctantly, saying, “She’s allergic to penicillin.”

“I was informed,” Dr. Murphey replied, focusing on the woman in front of him. He couldn’t look at the man standing so close to him, because the lies he was committing were shining in his eyes like dying stars. Cleaning the injection site, he murmured to Marlena, “This may sting a bit.”

Marlena glanced up at John, and right before Dr. Murphey injected her; she felt panic so strong take hold of her. She gasped as the needle entered her arm, “I love you!”

In an instant John knew he’d been right all along. A strong arm wrapped around his chest, and he felt the sting of a needle in the side of his neck. His head rolled back, and all he saw were the dark blue eyes of his Papi staring down at him, and the softly whispered words, “Devi fidarti di me [You must trust me].”

Feeling the darkness start to take his mind, John mumbled, “Proteggila. Potrebbe essere incinta…il mio bambino…la tua famiglia… [Protect her. She could be pregnant…my baby…your family…]”

The world went black for both of them simultaneously, as John whispered to Marlena on his last gasp, “I love you too, Doc…”

Mason lowered John’s unconscious body to the ornate carpet slowly. Marlena was pregnant, which meant this situation had gotten much more complicated. He lifted his eyes and found Stefano watching him warily, demanding, “What did he say?”

“I’m not certain, sir. He was mumbling, but I think the sedative was very strong,” Mason said.

Dr. Murphey continued taking care of Marlena, but he heard John’s whispered words. They were in a language he didn’t understand, Spanish, or maybe Italian, but they were clear. The man behind him was lying, but he stayed quiet. He didn’t want to be there. He was there because unknown to him, his father had worked for DiMera. A few threats against his wife and his children had gotten him to make the trip to Paradise House. Nothing else. There was no loyalty. He injected Marlena with the antibiotic she still needed, and then stood, gathering his supplies. “I will need to return tomorrow,” he said softly.

“I need her to be healthy,” Stefano replied. “I have a dinner party in less than a week.”

“Mr. DiMera,” Dr. Murphey started slowly. “Pneumonia takes weeks to recover fully. She will be weak, and easily fatigued for several weeks.”

“You will do whatever you can to remedy that. Do you understand?” Stefano stared at the doctor with hard eyes. “If she needs vitamin shots, then you give them, do you understand?”

Mason watched the interaction with unease. 

Stefano turned and walked from the room, pleased with himself. Things were going exactly as planned, and his final revenge against Shawn Brady was forty-two years in the making. Watching it all come to fruition was making him almost giddy.

Mason stepped closer to the doctor, gripping the man’s shoulder from behind, and he said in low tones, “She might be pregnant. You will treat her accordingly, but say nothing. Do you understand?”

Dr. Murphey glanced down at the sleeping woman. Pregnant? He wasn’t even sure he’d given her an antibiotic safe for pregnancy. Wracking his brain he realized that he’d given her cephalexin, which was considered relatively safe during pregnancy. He shrugged the man’s hand from his shoulder and he murmured, “I understand. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“How long will she rest for?” Mason asked.

“Rest?” Dr. Murphey sneered. “Is that what ye be callin this? She will be comin’ out of it in about eight hours, a little more a little less, dependin’ on how her body metabolizes the drug. But givin’ the possibility of pregnancy, I won’t be sedatin’ her again. Ye hear?”

Mason nodded in acknowledgement, and watched the doctor stride from the room. He glanced at John, lying prone on the floor. With a heavy sigh, he lifted the man he now knew was his nephew, the son of his heart, and he started dragging his body down the length of the hallway. Reaching a door four rooms down, Mason tugged John into the room Stefano had assigned for him. He was aware that the cameras were on him, watching his every move, which meant Stefano could be somewhere watching him. Carelessly, he dropped John’s body onto the carpet in the middle of the room, almost wincing when his head thumped against the floor. Wiping his hands on his pants, almost as if he were disgusted, Mason left the room, locking the door behind him. 

Chapter 78

[Credit for co-writing this chapter has to go to @RachieQ because she’s really good at helping me when I’m stuck. Love ya, babes. ]

Paradise House, Ballynacally, County Clare, Ireland

A thundering pain echoed in John’s head, and he groaned low in his chest. He’d woken up like this so many times in his lifetime and there had been no one to blame but Stefano. This time was no different. He could feel the scratch of carpeting beneath his cheek, and his body was stiff from lying on a hard floor all night. Reaching up, his fingers felt for a knot that he was certain was on the back of his head. He palpated it gently, and had a fair estimation of how he’d gotten it. He’d tossed his own fair share of unconscious people onto hard floors in his time working for Stefano. 

He took a deep breath, and rolled onto his back cumbersomely. Even before he opened his eyes, he knew Marlena was nowhere near him. The air lacked her scent. It lacked that sweetness that would immediately put his mind at rest and calm him. Rolling back onto his side he pushed himself to his knees with a heavy grunt, and heaved his sluggish body off of the hard floor. He sat on his haunches, as the room spun around him, and he nearly fell over, catching himself with the footboard of the large wooden bed beside him. “Fuck,” he groaned, wishing he could alleviate the throbbing in his head.

Finally standing, John allowed himself to fall heavily onto the mattress. He rolled onto his back, staring at the canopy above, all dark burgundy brocade fabric with roped tassels hanging from the corners. The room was still spinning. Antique paintings and brass ornamentation blurring in his visions. He closed his eyes, hoping to take the edge off of some of the lightheadedness he was feeling. Going back over the events of the day before, he could still hear the echo of Mason’s voice, “Devi fidarti di me”. Trust him? Mason hadn’t done much to instill John’s faith in him, but those words were all he had right then. All he could wish for was that Mason took care of Marlena. She didn’t know she was possibly pregnant. He hadn’t had a chance to tell her. Mason’s fervently whispered words were all he could pin his hopes on. He prayed Mason heard his last words

When he finally felt that he could stand without losing the contents of his stomach across the floor, John started to check the room. Of course, there were video and audio devices in every corner watching him like an animal caged in a zoo. Randomly, mostly out of spite he flipped off the camera by the door. It was petty. It was childish. He didn’t care. His growing anxiety was a stone on his chest. 

He entered the bathroom, and saw two cameras. One was tucked in the far corner, aimed through the door and into the bedroom. The other camera was pointed towards the shower. “Fuck no,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. Just as he had done in Stockholm, John tore out the ones in the bathroom. He felt a certain degree of satisfaction as he tossed them onto the carpet in the middle of the room, staring up at the camera near the door with a smirk. The hell if he was going to allow Stefano to watch him while he bathed or used the toilet. 

John walked towards the window, and stared out over an emerald green field dotted with sheep, and he thought about Marlena. The pressure in his chest became weightier. She needed him. He needed her. They’d grown so close over the last six months he felt lost without her. She was his best friend, the love of his life, the mother of his child. He thought about Eric, Sami, and Carrie, and then he thought, my children. As more of the sedative wore off he became increasingly anxious wondering where Marlena might be. Was she safe? Was she scared?

Images of holding her in the night as she sobbed over their lost child came to him. His baby. The panic started to swell inside him. He glanced around helplessly, while swallowing the tight lump in his throat. He’d never felt so lost being separated from her. Even when she’d died, he hadn’t felt this vulnerable. It wasn’t a feeling he was unfamiliar with, he’d simply never felt this exposed. Stefano had done what he’d set out to do. He’d made them so dependent on each other that John was struggling to breathe without her. He’d fallen so deeply in love with her, that being apart was physically painful.

The lock on the door turned, and John spun on his heel to face whoever was entering the room. His blue eyes met with Dante’s brown ones. He was less than thrilled to see Dante staring at him with a smug grin. He was hoping for Mason. Dante smirked, “I’ve been given the task of feeding the prisoners.”

“Where’s Doc?” John demanded, watching Dante set a tray of food on the small table in the center of the room. He wouldn’t eat it. The chances were high that it was drugged. Stefano was predictable. Separate him from Marlena, and then start drugging his food. He wouldn’t be able to let his prized mercenary go without one last attempt to bring him into the fold. 

“Don’t worry about sleeping beauty,” Dante told him, one raised eyebrow making his grin lewdly suggestive. “She’s getting her beauty sleep.”

“I want to see her. I want to see for myself.” John stepped closer, angrily staring down the man across from him.

“Aww, that’s so cute,” Dante taunted.  He was irritated with Stefano’s obsession with this old has-been.  John Black was ancient history, Dante knew it, they all knew it.  Except, seemingly, Stefano. Stefano overestimated John. He would never be what he once was. “You think you can make demands? You don’t run the show John. You never have. You know, since I started working for Stefano I’ve heard all of these amazing stories about the mercenary, John Black. How brutal you were… how ruthless.” Dante laughed, the sound mocking. “I find it funny, because all I’ve seen over the last six months is a pussy whipped, love sick weakling. You fell in love, and you became weak.”

“You tell Stefano, I want to see her,” John replied, clenching his fists at his side.  His anxiety was spiraling out of control, and taking his worry and frustration out on this asswipe was almost too tempting to resist.  But, resist it, he must, if he was going to be allowed to see Marlena again. Only then would he be able to breathe without feeling as if it was a struggle.

Dante laughed again, “I might deliver your message.” He started to turn to leave the room, but a sense of superior smugness came over him. Turning to face John for one last shot at the man’s ego, Dante said, “You know… I heard about what happened with Anthony. It’s too bad… if it happened again, you wouldn’t be around to stop it? Would you?”

Every fear that John had coursing through him over the last hour came to a head, and before Dante even had an opportunity to realize what was happening, John was on him. Shock, and burning pain coursed through his jaw as John’s fist made contact. Dante’s head snapped back with the violence of the punch. 

Dante staggered back, and held up his hands. To fight back? To block the blows coming at him in rapid succession? He wasn’t sure, but the dam was broken now, and John was out of control.  

It was only Marlena that had enabled him to keep a rein on his temper, only his fear that she would be taken from him if he resisted Stefano’s plans and his numerous minions, that had ensured his compliance. Now that she had been taken from him, all bets were off.  If he had to G-ddamn kill every fucking thug in this place and climb over their bodies to fight his way out of here and find her, then he would do it. He would fucking do it, and burn Paradise House to the ground in his wake.

Pulling his arm back, he let his fist fly again and again, meeting with Dante’s face, his knuckles pulverizing the flesh and bone beneath them.  Dante tried to fight back, but he had been stunned by the first blow, and he was too slow to block John’s rapid punches.  Instead, he staggered back again, his head bouncing off the wall after one particularly vicious thump, and he slid down the embossed wallpaper, his eyes rolling back in his head.

But that didn’t stop John. He leapt on Dante’s semi-conscious, crumpled body, grasping his shirt in one hand to hold his torso upright, and he continued to rain punishing blows on his adversary. 

   Every time he made contact with Dante’s face, John pictured Anthony on top of a struggling and half-naked Marlena. He heard her terrified screams in his mind. He saw the bruises on her beautiful soft skin, saw the blood welling from her split lip.

 He felt that same furious helplessness wash over him, and that same dogged determination to keep her from any further harm. Dante’s thinly veiled threat triggered all the trauma he had squeezed down in his determination to comfort and protect Marlena.  While he might be separated from her, John now saw Dante as a threat to her safety, and if he could do anything to protect her, it was to make sure this animal couldn’t go near her ever again. Being unable to be with her and protect her directly, and fearing the distinct possibility that she may be hurt again, was all that motivated him.

He didn’t stop when he felt the skin on his knuckles split. He didn’t stop when he saw Dante’s blood on his fist, or as he watched it splatter on the carpet. He didn’t even stop when he heard the splintering of wood as the door to his room burst open, and Mason pulled him, still swinging, off of Dante’s unconscious body.  

“Stand down!” Mason roared, trying to maintain his hold on John’s flailing body. “Stand down, soldier!”

But it didn’t work. Military commands, and hypnotic triggers had no control over him anymore. John continued to fight against him, wanting nothing more than to get to the battered Dante and finish what he’d started. He would see the man dead. He roared, the sound filling the room and echoing back off of the walls. Mason yelled at Brandon, “Get Dante out of here. Now!”

Brandon didn’t move for several seconds. He was frozen almost in shock. He’d heard what John Black was capable of, but in his time in the DiMera organization he’d never seen evidence to support it. What he saw right then was the proof. He wasn’t sure he was ready for this. When the ISA had sent him undercover into the DiMera organization almost a year earlier he’d thought it was the perfect assignment to cut his baby teeth on. His job was to gather intel, follow orders, and report back to the ISA. They’d needed a man on the inside. Now they had two. Gabe had joined him a few months ago. But, as he stared down at Dante’s bloody and broken body he wasn’t so sure he could do this job. 

“Brandon!” Mason yelled. “I gave you an order! Get Dante out, now!”

Mason continued to struggle with John, managing to pull a syringe from his back pocket. Stabbing it into John’s thigh, he pushed the plunger quickly, and felt almost immediately when John’s body started to relax. John looked up at him with tortured, sad eyes, whispering, “I need her…”

All Mason could do was whisper back, “I know” as he dragged John’s body to the end of the bed, and tossed him onto it. He couldn’t show him any more care than that. He couldn’t touch his face in wonder at the way his son had aged. He couldn’t offer words of reassurance. All he could do was plot and plan. This would end, and it would end soon.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Even before Marlena opened her eyes, she knew John was gone. There was a silence in the space that wasn’t present when he was there. A stillness that left her feeling disquieted. There was no peace in this hush. She felt a tear slip from her eye, slowly drifting down the slope of her nose. She wasn’t sure how long she lay there. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. The tears continued to fall, causing her already struggling lungs to work harder. 

Sitting up quickly, she tried to calm herself down. She knew what was happening. Another panic attack. How many had she had since John walked out of her life all those years ago? She’d forgotten what they felt like since John walked through that panel in her wall in Baliceaux. Having him with her had brought peace to her. Slowly drawing in a deep, stuttered  breath, she held it in her lungs, feeling the burn that came with it. In her mind, she walked herself through the steps. Breath in…hold it for four seconds. Breath out, long and slow… four seconds. Wait… four seconds. Breath in… Over and over she repeated the process, until she felt as if she had her feet underneath her again. She couldn’t panic. She couldn’t allow herself to lose control like that. She had to stay strong. For John… for herself.

Mason opened the door to Marlena’s room slowly. He’d seen her wake up almost an hour ago as he sat watching the monitors. His life before Stefano was returning slowly, probably inhibited by the microchip still firmly embedded in his neck, but he could do nothing about that until everything was finished, and it would be finished. Soon. In addition to his memories of John, he was having memories of his own childhood in the hills of Sardinia, and he was remembering kind brown eyes, and soft hands. He was remembering Celeste. Not as he’d known her for the last twenty-five years, a casual partner in the bedroom, but as he knew her when Stefano first took him; when he was scared and alone. It was making it more difficult when he encountered her in the dark hallways of Paradise House. Her soft voice, or a gentle hand on his arm. He’d often wondered over the years why he felt drawn to her, how he had fallen so easily into her bed, and now he understood. He’d been half in love with her when Stefano stole his mind. Luca was drawn to Celeste, and now, more and more, Mason was drawn to her as well.

Marlena looked up when the door to her room opened, and she stared at Mason with blank eyes. John was gone, and she was left feeling hollow and bereft. She didn’t need forced social interaction. Glancing down at her hands laying in her lap, she said softly, “Where’s John?”

Setting the tray of food on the small table near the door, Mason replied, “He’s safe.”

Standing up, she turned to face him. That was his answer? It wasn’t enough. “Safe? Safe? No! Where… is… he?” she demanded.

Mason stood in the doorway watching her for a moment. She had a fire inside her that made him begrudgingly admire her. “I shouldn’t tell you anything,” he said. “But, you are more cooperative when you have some reassurance…” He was trying to gauge his words with caution. Stefano could be watching. “John is in this house. He is unharmed. He was… uncooperative, so he’s currently… sleeping.”

“Uncooperative? Sleeping?” Marlena laughed derisively. “So, he fought you, and he’s been sedated again. That’s what you’re telling me.” Mason stared at her with blank eyes, and she hated him right then. As if the limited energy she had drained from her, Marlena sank to her knees with a heavy sob. She needed to know, even if it would tear out her heart if it was true, “Is Stefano… is he messing with his mind again? Is he taking away his memories?” She wanted to appeal to Mason, to beg him for information. She wanted to add so many details. Details about Mason, details about Seraphina, or Sardinia, but she didn’t. As with every location she’d been moved to over the last six months, this one was no different. She’d already noticed the cameras in the corner. If there was even the remotest possibility that Mason was in their corner, she would not draw attention to his relationship with John. 

A sharp cramp pulled deep in her abdomen, and Marlena gasped softly. Memories of a time before were attached to that pain, and her eyes closed. She took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds, and then released it slowly. Her hand went to her stomach, and she became very quiet. 

Mason watched her, as the realization that she might be carrying John’s child came over her face. It was a sense of wonder, combined with sadness, chased by fear. She looked up at him quickly, and then averted her eyes as if he might learn her secret. He walked towards her in a brisk manner, offering his hand to help her up, but saying nothing.

Marlena pushed at him, trying to put distance between them, but she lost her footing and fell forward. Mason took that moment to whisper in her ear, “I will protect him.” 

She glanced up at him quickly with wide eyes and then pushed him away, “Don’t touch me!” One last glance at her, and Mason had left the room. Marlena sank to the edge of the bed, allowing her head to fall into her hands, hoping the fall of her hair concealed her emotions, which she knew were plain on her face, and she had two realizations: She was having John’s baby, and John was going to be protected. Mason would keep him safe, because his hastily whispered words were as good as promise. Marlena knew that.

Chapter 79

Frank and Martha Evans Residence, Denver, Colorado

The air in the Evans’ living room was decidedly hostile, but Carrie had known it would be. She glanced at Kim, unsure how to start the conversation with the twins. All she knew was that she saw pain in Eric and Sami’s eyes. Pain that she knew so well herself. It was the pain that came with being a child, and knowing something was wrong, while also knowing you were being lied to. The helplessness that came with those emotions was overwhelming. Roman had done that to her. Her grandparents had done that to her. John… John was the one who was always honest. In whatever capacity he could be, he was honest with her.

Kim sat on the couch between the twins, and Carrie sat on the beige velvet chair with the wooden armrests covered in rust colored flowers that sat near the television. Sami’s eyes darted between them with a growing sense of unrest, as Eric whispered, “Something bad happened?”

Carrie couldn’t manage to take the sadness from her eyes, “Yeah. Yeah, something bad happened, but we’re–we’re going to talk about it, and then you’re coming home… to Salem. No more hiding things from you.”

All of the rage that Sami had saved up, all the things she’d wanted to say, and the way she’d wanted to hurt someone with her words seemed to fizzle out. They hadn’t been ignored… at least not in the way she’d thought they’d been ignored. “You’re going to tell us now? No more lies?” She felt so much older than her eleven years.

“When your mom was supposed to go to the conference in Oklahoma, she never made it there. We’re not sure what happened, but somehow she was taken,” Kim said gently. “Your dad thought maybe it was best that you didn’t know. He worried that you would be scared, and he thought we would be able to get her back quickly… before you came home at the end of the summer.”

“But we never came home!” Sami cried. “So why didn’t he tell us then?”

“I don’t know,” Carrie stumbled.

Kim started, “Your dad–”

“–he’s not my dad,” Eric mumbled. He wouldn’t look up from where he sat staring at his hands. It felt good to say it aloud. It felt right to say it to someone besides Sami. He said again, louder, “He’s not my dad.”

Kim, coming from the perspective of a therapist, changed her phrasing, “Roman made some choices that in hindsight weren’t good for any of us. Carrie and I want you to come home, and we believe that you need to know what really happened… what’s still happening.”

“Who took our mom… was it–was it the man? The one… the one who took her before?” She wanted to ask if it was the same man who hurt her daddy and Roman, but she didn’t. Because her daddy was John and Roman was simply Roman, and she was tired of being corrected. She sometimes had bad dreams about that man coming back, and taking her mommy. Sometimes, she dreamed that he was taking John, or even Carrie. They were dreams where a man in the shadows laughed, and one moment someone she loved was there, and the next they were gone. When she woke, she would be gasping, and covered in sweat. Even knowing it wasn’t real, the dreams would sit with her all day, making her agitated and nervous. The same nervousness she was feeling right then. “Are we… is mommy going to come back?”

“We’re trying really hard to get her back.” Kim reached out cupping Sami’s rounded cheeks in her palms. Staring into the little girl’s wide blue eyes, she said, “We’re doing everything we can to get her home.” Kim was quiet for a moment, and then she said, “There’s something else…” She wasn’t sure how to tell them. No matter how she said it, they would be upset. “John is with her.”

Eric was confused for a moment, “Why?” But then, very quickly he realized what she meant. Whoever had his mommy had his daddy too. In a small scared voice, he asked, “He… the man… he took Daddy too?”

Sami started crying, trying to hide her face from everyone around her, but she couldn’t contain her emotion, and Carrie reached for her, pulling her sister into her lap. Trying to make sense of what Carrie and Kim were telling her, Sami asked, “How did he get daddy too?”

Slowly and gently Carrie brushed Sami’s hair from her round heart shaped face, and she told her, “He went to save her… because you know, he’s brave, and he would never leave her alone… but, well, we think, maybe he knew it was a trap–”

“–he went to be with her?” Sami asked. There was relief that came with knowing that. Her daddy would bring her mommy back. She didn’t have much faith in Roman being successful, afterall, she barely knew him. Roman left early, and he came home late. Often she was still asleep, or already down for the night when he walked in the front door. Roman was loud, and bossy, and sometimes he made her mommy cry. Her mommy worked a lot, but she was almost always there when she woke up, and she was there for dinner. She kissed Sami and Eric good night. She told them they were smart, amazing, and beautiful. Sami almost sighed with relief knowing her daddy was there, “So she wouldn’t be alone?”

“I think so,” Carrie whispered. She couldn’t lie to Sami anymore. They’d been lying to the twins for months, and she had determined that was over. “You know Sami, Eric… John is brave, and he would do whatever he could–”

“–but he left us! He left us and he–he never called, and he never said why. He never said why, and mommy would cry over him. She cried a lot!” Eric could still remember sitting with his back against his mothers bedroom door with Sami. He remembered Marlena’s sobs, and the occasional whimper of John. He knew then that his daddy leaving made her sad, and she was sad for a long time. She stopped smiling as much, and she started working a lot more when daddy left. But even though he knew she was sad, she still tried to be the best mommy. She came to his baseball games, and she cheered for him at the science fair. She tried to make pancakes on pancake Saturdays, even if they weren’t very good. There was nothing that could dim the love and admiration he had for his mommy. 

Sami glanced at Kim, and she whispered, “Daddy made mommy cry, because he left, and he didn’t love her anymore.”

“Sometimes, love is confusing,” Kim told them gently. “Even for us adults, and you’d think we’d have it figured out, don’t you?”

“Daddy is going to bring her home?” Eric wanted to know. 

He needed the reassurance, but all Carrie could tell him was, “They are working very hard to bring them home. Extra hard.”

Eric knew what his sister wasn’t saying, “But they might not…”

“Now, we’re not going to think like that.” Kim pulled Eric’s small body close to hers, and she said, “We’re not going to think like that. John is going to do everything he can to keep Marlena safe. He cares for her.”

“If he knew it was a trap… and he went anyway, does he still love her? Because if he knew it was a trap and–and he went anyway… he went to save her anyway, that’s love right?” Sami remembered the way her daddy used to talk about mommy. He would let her play in her jewelry, and he would spray mommy’s perfume for her. He would talk about her mother as if the moon and the stars were hung by her. One time he cried, and Sami remembered thinking he must have loved her very much. When Marlena came home, she remembered watching her daddy cuddle her mommy on the couch, and she wished they could be a family again. That he would forget Isabella, and love her mommy again. But he didn’t, and then Roman came home, and her whole life changed. Even though John had been gone for years, that childlike hope still lingered. A life with her mommy and her daddy. Not the Roman-daddy, but the John-daddy. 

“I think he might still love Marlena,” Carrie whispered, knowing in her heart that he did. It was in the way he would ask after Marlena, and hang on Carrie’s words during their phone calls. He loved Marlena, of that she was certain. 

“Carrie,” Kim said low, almost as a warning. Carrie had probably said too much.

“I’m done lying, Aunt Kim! They’re smart! They have questions like this because we all saw Marlena in the months after John left. We all saw her, even Dad… he knew she was sad, even though none of us ever talked about it!” Carrie sighed, “Maybe that’s the problem. We should have talked about it.”

Kim wrapped her arms more tightly around Eric, and she glanced between them all. Too much had happened in Carrie, Eric, and Sami’s short lives. Too much. “I think it’s time for you two to come home to Salem. It’s time to be with your family.”

Sami watched the way Carrie and Aunt Kim were talking to each other with their eyes, and she wasn’t sure she trusted them. “You told us everything?”

“There’s more,” Carrie said. “But why don’t we eat breakfast, and we can discuss the rest afterwards?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Paradise House, Ballynacally, County Clare Ireland

She’d barely slept. Just as she had when she was in Isla Tortuga, when John had been taken from her, Marlena had dragged an oversized chair to the window. She stared out over green fields, watching sheep graze, and she contemplated her life. Her life with Roman, and her life with John. It wasn’t often that she psychoanalyzed her own life, but she had spent half the night doing so while seated in an ugly, overstuffed, Rococo patterned chair. 

What she kept going back to was what had initially drawn her to Roman, and in truth it was because he’d made her feel safe. But it was also because he took charge at a time when she was emotionally exhausted. He forced his way into her home, and he made her feel safe. Initially she’d found him bossy, rude, and even slightly misogynistic. Somewhere along the way that had changed, and yet, it didn’t change at all. He was still all of those things, but somehow she’d started to overlook them, or make excuses for his poor behavior. Why?

She knew why. What was obvious to her now, hadn’t been as obvious then. Years of abuse and trauma had changed her, and it had all started with her twin sister Samantha.

As much as she loved her sister, Samantha was disturbed. Samantha had always needed the kind of help that Marlena couldn’t provide for her. She was too emotionally involved, and Samantha harbored deep rooted jealousies against Marlena. She had since they were small children. Marlena understood why. Her mother had always compared them, criticizing Samantha’s excitable nature while praising Marlena’s calm spirit. Bitter jealousies that had started to fester at a very young age. It was when Samantha had Marlena committed to Bayview, and took over Marlena’s life that she realized, truly realized, how troubled her twin sister was. 

Marlena felt groggy, sitting in a white room in the Bayview Sanitarium. She was so drugged she could barely recall her own name. She watched her sister with wary eyes when she entered the room, but said nothing.

“Did you enjoy your walk, Samantha?” her twin sister asked her, leaning towards her with a smirk on her face.

Marlena shivered slightly, whispering, “It was a little cold.”

Samantha continued to smile, “You’re not used to this weather after California are you?”

Marlena was confused? California? She’d never been to California… but Samantha had. Marlena shook her head, as if the motion would clear her thoughts, “I saw Dr. Powell in the hall.”

Samantha, pretending to be Marlena, pasted an empathetic mask on her face in case anyone glanced in the window, “That’s good. He’s very fond of you, in spite of the trouble you’ve given him.”

Marlena remembered fighting back. She remembered trying to get Dr. Powell to understand that she was not her sister Samantha. All she’d gotten for her trouble was a sedative. 

Staring up at her sister, Marlena tried to focus her eyes, “I asked for a release form.”

Samnatha leaned forward with a hard edge to her eyes, “That’s a little premature, Samantha. First you have to sign the consent form for shock treatment.”

Slowly, but firmly, Marlena said, “No.”

“Oh, I think you should. It’ll save us so much legal red tape.” Samantha was struggling to keep her Marlena persona firmly in place. Calm, cool, and professional. She wanted to slap her. The perfect Marlena.

Marlena was confused,“What?”

As if she were chiding a small child, Samantha said, “You know how stubborn you can be, so I’ve already initiated action in court.”

Marlena felt panic rising inside of her, as she whispered, “You–you can’t force me.”

“Force you?” Samantha whispered with mock kindness. “I’m taking care of you. I’m going to have the court make you my ward.” Marlena began to feel sick. The sedative was causing her to feel lightheaded, and she struggled to gather her thoughts. Samantha said in a sickening sweet voice, “You see, I knew there had to be some way to make you cooperate.”

With a short, panicked gasp, Marlena asked, “How–how can you do that?”

“It’s so simple. Dr. Powell and I can stipulate your incompetence, your inability to function properly.”

A tear slipped from Marlena’s eye, “You won’t do that will you?” They were sisters. Samantha wouldn’t really do it… but Marlena feared she might.

With a soft tsk, Samantha told her, “You’re not leaving me any choice. The superior court judge will come here and interview you. Of course, you may be heavily sedated, even incoherent. You are sometimes. He’ll make you my ward.”

A soft choked sob escaped Marlena as she stared up at her twin sister, “No–no.”

“Now wouldn’t it just be simpler to write your name on the paper?” Samantha asked her.

“I’m not going to sign it,” Marlena replied, wiping at the tears on her face.

Samantha gave her a feral smile, “But I thought you wanted to get out of here. This is the only way you can do it.”

Marlena wiped at the tears on her face, and continued to stare out over the vast fields of Paradise House. After being rescued from Bayview, she had believed her life would finally be happy. She had Don. She had her job. She’d worked to repair her relationship with Samantha. Her marriage, and her pregnancy with D.J. had brought her so much joy, and hope. But then, D.J. had died and her world was again turned upside down. 

Don knelt on the floor before Marlena where she sat on the bed. Staring up at her, his face etched with the pain of loss, he asked her, “How did it happen? When did it happen?”

She was barely able to get the words out, “Late afternoon yesterday.” Ever since D.J. had died she’d had nothing but this excruciating pain in her chest. She wanted to die with him. She wanted to be with him so he wasn’t alone, but she knew that was the grief, and it would eventually become less painful. 

Don seemed confused, “Why didn’t you call me earlier?”

“We tried to!” she sobbed. “We tried several times… even in the night, you weren’t there.”

Don looked away, unable to make eye contact, and he mumbled, “Yeah… I was having some, uh, meetings and things.”

“We kind of thought that,” she said softly, feeling the mattress dip beside her as Don sat down. She took a couple deep breaths, trying to keep her barely held panic in check, as she leaned forward, balancing her body on her hands.

“How did it happen, anyway?” he asked her. 

Marlena couldn’t figure out why Don wasn’t looking at her. He hadn’t touched her at all. He seemed distracted, but maybe it was his grief. People handled grief differently. Softly, she said, “No one seems to know for sure.”

“Sweetheart,” he said, with his voice rising slightly. “There must be some reason for it. Was he sick or anything?”

Her grief was choking her, “Well, uh, no… he, uh, he had some little sniffles in the morning–”

“–did you call Neil about it?” he asked, cutting her off. 

Guilt suffused her, as she was again bombarded with the image of D.J., his lips blue, as his lifeless body hung in her arms. “Uh, no… I–”

Don stood up quickly, walking away from her, and Marlena felt lonelier in that instant than she had ever felt. Completely alone in her loss. She stared up at her husband, eyes swollen with tears, knowing that someway, somehow, he was blaming her. He hadn’t said he blamed her, but she read the signs in his eyes, and his body language, the emotional distance.

She stood up to follow him, “Don! Not every mother would call a doctor, just because the baby had the sniffles. Most mothers wouldn’t.” But she saw the way her husband kept his back to her, effectively giving the image that her words were hitting a wall. 

She heard the disbelief in his voice when he said, “Yeah. Yeah. I guess you’re right… but was that it?”

Not sure how the conversation had gone so sideways, Marlena choked out, “Neil said that some premature babies, uh, have a little respiratory problem, and he said that that could have been part of it maybe.”

Still refusing to face his wife, he said, “Because he was premature?”

Another sob escaped her, as she nodded her head, “Maybe.”

Don murmured, “He never really had a chance in the start, did he?” He turned to face Marlena with hard eyes, and she knew then that he was blaming her. Her heart sank, as he accused, “Maybe even before the start.”

She stood motionless, in shock, as Don walked around her like she wasn’t even there. Turning to face him, all she saw was his back again. She wiped at the tears that would not stop flowing. He was breaking her heart for the second time in two days. 

“Don,” she said shakily. “Neil said that could have been the problem.”

“What would the chances have been if he hadn’t been born premature? Probably a lot better, huh?” he said in a hard voice. 

Marlena was hurting so badly she could barely formulate a response, “You… may–maybe… I-I-I don’t know. Don? Why are we–why are we dwelling on that? I mean he was born premature and there’s nothing that we could about–”

“–there was something!” he said loudly, finally turning to face her. “Something you could have done.”

Staring up at him helplessly, she allowed her tears to fall uninhibited, “Me? What?”

“Why was D.J. born prematurely in the first place?” he asked her, staring down at her with accusation. 

“I-I… there could be a lot of reasons–”

“–could it be that one of the reasons was that you didn’t take care of yourself during the pregnancy? Could–could that, maybe, have been one of the reasons–”

“–Don, I took the best care of him–”

“–Marlena! Come on! Neil, Jordan, and me… we told you to cut back on your hours, told you to stay away from the hospital, told you not to work so hard!” Don stared at her in disgust, “But you wouldn’t listen…if you’d listened, we’d still have our son.”

How her heart had split into the sharpest shards at his words, cutting her soul to pieces. Don had left her standing alone and desolate in their bedroom, and he’d gone off to seek solace with another woman. She’d never been exactly certain if his affair with Liz had started before D.J.’s death, or if it came after. All that she knew was that it was another blow to her already battered heart. Another heartbreak in a series of tragedies and betrayals. 

“The problem,” Marlena said. “The problem is with us.”

“What about us?” Even as he asked the question, Marlena could tell by the look on Don’s face, he already knew. 

“I need to ask you something. I need to know if you’re having an affair with somebody.” She felt sick to her stomach even having to ask. The answer was written plainly.

Even still he skirted the answer, “What did you just ask me?”

“It’s a very simple question,” she said, stepping closer. “I’ll ask it again. Are you having an affair with somebody?”

Still refusing to answer the question, Don asked, “Where did you get that idea?”

Marlena wanted to scream. Why wouldn’t he answer her? “I–I heard.”

“You heard from whom?”

“That doesn’t matter. What really matters is that you tell me the truth.”

Don stared at her for a moment, and then looked down, saying, “No… I’m not having an affair with anybody.”

Marlena sighed with relief as he sat on the end of their bed. It was when Don continued talking that her world fell apart, “But I did spend the night with someone.”

“Then it’s true,” she said in a choked voice. “You’ve been with another woman?”

Don was barely able to look her in the eyes, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what?” she asked loudly. “Sorry about the affair? Or sorry that I found out?”

“Both!” he told her. “That’s why I wanted to tell you.”

Marlena almost laughed in his face. Don wanted to tell her first to clear his own conscience. “Great! I get Mr. Honesty.”

“That’s why I came home early, honey. Because I wanted to tell you…believe me.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, recognizing it for what it was, her attempt to calm herself. Sarcastically, she said, “That’s very thoughtful of you.” Turning to face him, she asked in a fierce, angry voice, “Why weren’t you that thoughtful when she was seen leaving your hotel room?”

Don eyes widened, “Somebody saw?”

Marlena finally broke with a sob, “Don! How could you do that?” Turning away from him, she squeezed herself tighter. It was when Don touched her that she screamed, “Don’t touch me!”

“Please, let’s not let this get out of hand. Let’s–let’s talk about it. Let’s put it behind us. Please.” he implored. 

“Why? So it can be a nice, little, neat package?” She turned, staring up at him, “You go out there… and you make love to another woman… and you come home, and you tell me about it! What do you want to do? Do you want to cleanse yourself? You want to put it to bed? Well, you can go to hell!”

Unfolding her legs, Marlena shifted them to the other side as she readjusted in the chair. It wasn’t long after that that Kellam Chandler raped her. A woman never recovered from being violated that way. As much as she wanted to believe she could. There would always be times when she encountered someone on the street who wore the same cologne, or had the same build. There were moments where a stranger’s voice sounded similar, or an innocent comment might throw her back in time. Could she heal, and move on? Yes, but always… always she would be forever changed. 

Roman came into her life when she was on the brink of emotional collapse. She’d been betrayed by her sister, her husband, and someone she’d considered a friend. Her son had died, and her boss had raped her. How strong could one woman be? It was almost a relief to have Roman come into her life, and pick up the reins. It was laughably easy for her to let him make the decisions. After hours of introspection, she now saw it for what it was. A trauma bond. A bond born of fear, sadness, helplessness, and emotional fatigue. Would she have met him and loved him under a different set of circumstances? She wasn’t so sure. 

Marlena almost laughed aloud. How was she able to help her patients recognize trauma bonds, coping mechanisms, and fear responses, and yet she was unable to identify her own? The more time she spent away from Roman, and the more time she had to consider it, she knew it was true. Roman had been safe. He’d made her feel as if no one could touch her after years of uncertainty and abuse. Of course she would crave that. Who wouldn’t? She could tick off on her fingers the seven stages of a trauma bond, and she felt sick to her stomach realizing that she had been through them all. 

The beginning of her relationship with Roman, the love bomb. His kind words, his soft touch, the dates, and the dancing. Trust and dependency, when Roman would constantly reassure her that he would always be there for her, no matter what. Then came the criticism, and the condescension. The day they’d married, Roman had yelled at her, and called her a fish wife. How had she not seen it? Marlena stood up quickly, running her fingers through her hair in frustration. When Roman had come back in her life, the whole process had started over. He’d pursued her relentlessly… and again, she’d allowed him into her life while failing to recognize the signs. She would have recognized them in anyone else, but she’d missed them in her own life. When Stefano had taken her almost seven months earlier, she knew that she and Roman had passed the criticism phase. He was actively gaslighting her when she tried to discuss his long work hours or his lack of involvement with the twins. She was deep into the loss of self phase when she left for her conference in Oklahoma. Her own words came back to haunt her, “I have a meeting tomorrow with this Doctor, and I won’t go away again. I’ll—I’ll wait at least a year before I attend another conference. I promise.” It was resignation and submission. She’d given up, and she saw it all so clearly. Marlena sank to the edge of the chair, staring at the scuffs on the hardwood floor.

With John, even believing that he was Roman, she’d become a different woman. She’s blossomed like a flower in a garden, growing bright and soft. She went from a struggling caterpillar to a colorful butterfly that burst forth from its chrysalis, whole and new. John allowed her to take chances, and make choices that he might not agree with, but he wholeheartedly supported… simply because she wanted to. She had never before, and had never since experienced a love like the love of John Black. 

Marlena resisted the impulse to touch her abdomen. She was almost certain she was pregnant, but she would give no indication that might be caught on camera. Stefano couldn’t know. What she did know for sure was that whatever game Stefano was playing was coming to an end. Marlena would go home with John, and it would break Roman’s heart, but she couldn’t… she wouldn’t live without her soulmate.

Chapter 80

March 1983

Capri, Bay of Naples, Italy

Gina rolled towards John, her dark chestnut hair cascading over her shoulder in soft waves, as she stroked her fingers over his bronzed bare chest. He stared up at her with a satiated, drowsy look. The one that said he’d just had sex and it was amazing. A soft breeze came through the French doors, caressing their naked bodies like the softest brush of skin, and carrying the scent of rosemary and bougainvillea. She sighed. John was being unnaturally quiet, and that was concerning – since he was already a man of few words. Sliding her heated body along his, she whispered, “You’re thinking very loudly, Father Black.”

He was thinking about the plan they had concocted to leave Stefano. It had to be perfect, with all of the details worked out, or it would fail. Even a perfect plan had the potential to fail when he was going against Stefano DiMera. “I think we should move early… Let’s not wait two more weeks. We should go soon… possibly in the next few days. I don’t trust this plan, Gina. I know we have everything in place, and it should be fool proof, but I have a sinking feeling that something is going to happen,” he said softly, rolling towards her. Her skin felt like the soft velvet under his finger as he stroked her cheek. He couldn’t lose her, and if Stefano had his way they would be separated, and John… John would lose himself completely. Pretending to be a priest was difficult enough. He was the furthest from being a priest. A life of celibacy was not for him. What Stefano was asking of him was impossible. “Stefano… he’s too quiet. We haven’t had communication from him since he told me of his plan to send me to that podunk town in America so I can play papi to a passel of brats that aren’t mine, and pretend love some fucking head shrink. His silence is… making me nervous.”

Gina smiled at him indulgently, “We stole Stefano the prized Monet he wanted. We deserve a chance to relax. That’s what this is. You should enjoy it, darling.” Rubbing her cheek across his hand, she whispered, “You know La Grenouillère was quite difficult to replicate. It was even harder to steal and replace. We deserve this time.”

“Your copy was a masterpiece,” John said softly. It was possible that Gina was right. Stefano could be so happy with his newly acquired Monet that he was distracted, but John’s gut told him differently. He’d put up too much of a fight when Stefano had told him of his next assignment. He should have kept his mouth shut. “We could leave next week,” he told her, deep in thought. “We could… leave early, and what would it hurt?”

Pushing herself up on her elbow, she felt her breasts brush against John’s arm, “Make love to me.”

He groaned. Wrapping his arm around her roughly, he jerked her body up and over his tangling them in the red satin sheets. “Are you trying to distract me, Princess?”

“Distractions are nice,” she said, licking along his jawline. Her hand slid over his hip, wrapping around his lengthening cock. She smiled when his body jerked. “Distractions with you are fucking heaven.”

With a smirk, he twisted his fist in the sheets, tugging them off of her, while staring at her body. How could he be ready to sink into her heat so soon after making love to her? With a growl, he asked her, “You want me to fuck you?”

“You know I do,” she told him, sliding her wet arousal over the length of his cock with a soft moan.

John smirked at her, crossing his arms over his head, “Ride me.”

As Gina sank down onto John’s length, allowing him to fill her, she moaned and shuddered with desire… and guilt. Stefano was coming for Father John Black, and she felt some sadness at the thought of losing him. He was an amazing lover, and Greta adored him, but he was also a complication. She felt herself falling for him, and that was something she didn’t need. No, it was best to allow Stefano to have his mercenary back, and she could go on with her life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Maison Blanche, New Orleans, Louisiana

The first things John was conscious of as he came to was the feel of cold steel at his wrists, the roaring sound of La donna è mobile, and the strobe of lights exploding behind his closed eyelids. He tried to lift his head, but it felt as heavy as a million suns, the weight of molten metal holding him down. With a groan, his eyes fluttered, but the pain in his head was so excruciating they closed immediately. Disorientation overwhelmed him. He was unsure of where he was or how he’d gotten there. Rolling his body to the side, his cheek touched the cool damp stone of what he assumed was the floor beneath him. John took a deep breath – darkness, mold – another breath – cold air. The blare of the aria continued. He tried again to open his eyes, but the light was blinding.

Suddenly, he remembered Gina. Where was she? Was she imprisoned with him? Forcing his eyes open, the flashing light felt scorching. He groaned in pain while he yelled, “Gina! Gina!”

The cavernous room echoed back with emptiness, his voice reverberating back at him off of the walls. Struggling to sit up, John moaned at the pain in his head. He’d either been beaten or drugged. Knowing Stefano, it was both. Dizziness took over making him feel as if the space around him was spinning, and his spine fell against the cool stone wall. John’s head rolled back with a thud as he closed his eyes, almost completely immobilized by the pounding torture in his head. Behind his eyelids the light continued to flash, absolute darkness alternating with painfully blinding illumination. Pavarotti continued singing, his beautiful voice creating melodic chaos. John wanted to scream.

Opening his eyes, he did his best to take in his surroundings. He needed to figure out where he was – stone walls, stone floor, dank, and damp. Where was he? He knew he was alone, and fear for Gina washed over him again. His body trembled as he tried to stand up, only to be pulled down towards the floor by the shackle biting into the tender flesh at his wrist. There were wounds there. He couldn’t see them, but he could feel them. How long had he been chained up?

Fragments of memory assaulted him – waking abruptly as he was pulled aggressively from his sleep, Gina’s scream of surprise, Stefano’s feral smile as stood off to the side watching everything, Gina’s treacherous eyes as a needle was viciously stabbed into his neck… and the blackness that overtook him, even as he fought to get free of the men holding him. John closed his eyes again, picturing Gina’s barely clothed body, the satin chemise clinging to her skin, and the way Stefano pulled her close to him, as he stared at John and said, “Gina… you did well my darling. You did very well.”

“She fucking lied,” John said, his words slurred slightly. Had it all been a lie? Had she even loved him at all? “It was all a lie.” He groaned with pain, unable to even allow himself to think of her betrayal.

Suddenly, the lights stopped flashing, and the room went black. The music stopped, and the silence that took over was deafening. Out of the quiet came a dark, low, voice, “I see you are awake, John. I trust you slept well?”

With his head resting against the wall, John finally opened his eyes, staring up at the nothingness of the inky room, “Sleep? Is that what you’re calling this old man?”

“You know, I expected more of you, John. When I told you about the mission I had planned for you, it was because I trusted you… because I considered you my best. I expected more from you.” Stefano’s disembodied voice continued, “I am incredibly disappointed.”

“Fuck you,” John replied weakly. “I disappointed you? I am nothing to you, and Gina may not know it yet, but she is nothing to you. We are nothing more than machines to control and manipulate. You don’t see us as people. I didn’t disappoint you Stefano… I bruised your fucking ego.”

“Language, John. Language,” Stefano told him. “I thought I had taught you better. Perhaps you need more time to think…”

The lights began to flash brightly, and John closed his eyes just as Nessun Dorma started to blast through the speakers. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

April 1983

Maison Blanche

John sat immobile, strapped into a cold, stainless steel chair. All around him machines whirred and beeped, casting the room in a soft glow in the low light. Manufactured air coming from the vent on the wall, cast across his skin, chilling it, and making it difficult to think. Stefano was intentionally keeping the room cold. His life, his very existence, consisted of nothing but memories of Stefano’s daily tortures, and injections. He knew of nothing before, and he wasn’t sure there would be anything after. His body was littered with bruises. How long had he been there? Minutes? Hours? Days? He’d lost track of time, and he’d lost sight of who he was… if he was ever anyone. Even knowing that he should be someone, he knew that he was no one. No one. 

Stefano stepped from the shadows at the back of the room, and rounded the chair John was strapped to. He smiled, and cocked his head towards the speakers, “Largo al Factotum… one of my favorite arias.” He stared at John receiving no response, not that he expected one. If John spoke he would receive a nasty shock.

John stared forward blankly, unable to move his head, which was firmly strapped to the headrest. His blue eyes continued to stare at the screen in front of him. Sensors were connected to him. If he fell asleep he received a shock of electricity. If he closed his eyes for longer than a simple blink he was shocked. All he could do was stare at the images as they flashed in front of him –  a young girl with her head thrown back in laughter wearing roller skates while her hair blew out behind her, two babies sleeping with their faces close together, a woman with eyes that called his to him in a secret language he didn’t understand, her face surrounded by a halo of honey colored curls. A never ending loop of faces, over and over again, but it was hers… her face that intrigued him. It was her face that made him want something.

“That’s right,” Stefano said smugly. “Study them. Learn them… Soon… soon… all I need is Roman Brady.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Paradise House

Christmas 1995

John woke up with a jerk. Perspiration covered the entirety of his body, causing his clothing to stick to his skin uncomfortably. He shivered violently, and tried to roll over only to realize he’d been tied to the bed. Falling back with a soft bounce, he groaned. His head was pounding, because Mason had drugged him again. Lifting his head slowly he stared down at his bound wrists, and then further to his hands. The skin of his knuckles was split, and even though the blood had dried, there was still oozing. He knew some of that blood was Dante’s and a sense of satisfaction came over him. If Stefano wasn’t going to allow him to see Marlena, then game fucking on. He had nothing to hold back, and everything to lose if he didn’t try to get to her. 

He tugged on the tie holding his arm to the bed, and felt the knot slip a little, just as the door to his room opened, and Mason walked in. “You fucking tied me to the bed?” John told him.

Mason stared at him, “You weren’t behaving yourself.”

“What am I, five?” John asked, pulling and tugging even harder.

“I can undo them, if you act like you have sense,” Mason told him, approaching the bed with a smirk. 

John didn’t know how to react. He had so many memories of Luca, but he wasn’t sure he could trust Mason. “I want to see, Doc,” he demanded. “I need to know she’s okay, and I don’t trust you, and I sure as hell don’t trust Stefano!”

“You will have to accept my word for it, she’s fine,” Mason told him.

“She’s not,” John replied. “I know she’s not. She’s worried about me, and no one’s telling her a G-d damned thing, so she’s going to get more and more depressed as she worries about what the fuck Stefano is doing to me!” Pulling his leg, the tie held, and he screamed, “Will you fucking untie me?”

“No, but I will deliver a message,” Mason told him, staring at him intently.

“Your boss gonna let you do that?” John asked sarcastically.

“Stefano is aware of the situation and feels that perhaps Marlena would benefit from communication,” Mason replied. “There are some terms.”

“Of course there are.” John glanced up at the camera in the corner and said, “What does the old bastard want?”

“You will stop attacking people–”

“–Dante fucking deserved it, and if you watch the video you’ll see that. I was getting sick of his arrogant ass anyway, but he threatened Doc. Now he won’t touch her.”  John smiled, resting his head back on the pillow, “How is Dante doing by the way?”

“You broke his jaw. It’s wired shut currently.” Mason approached the side of the bed. “No more fighting. No trying to escape.” He dropped a pencil and a pad of paper on the bed. “Do you agree?”

Staring up at Mason, John wanted to hate him, but he couldn’t. There was something in the way he looked at him. Something he wasn’t saying. Reluctantly, John agreed, “Fine. Just get these damn ropes off of me.”

Chapter 81

Kim and Shane Donovan Residence

Sami came out of the bedroom on the prowl for breakfast. She could smell it. Well, she could smell bacon, and for Sami bacon was all she needed. Skipping down the hall in distraction, she came around the corner, and bumped headlong into Rebecca’s rounded belly. Sami stopped, staring at her. Tipping her head to the side, she said, “Carrie said you’re having my little brother or sister.”

Rebecca was taken slightly aback, unprepared for such a direct question from an eleven year old. “I–I am.”

“Are you going to get breakfast? ‘Cause I smell bacon,” Sami said, reaching for Rebecca’s hand. Tugging on her, Sami continued, “I love bacon. My daddy John used to make bacon and pancakes on pancake Saturdays. We’d have dance parties too.”

Rebecca followed behind the chatty girl in bewilderment, as Sami continued to talk. “Daddy Roman doesn’t do dance parties. He yells a lot, and he gets mad, and says I talk too much. Personally, I think he’s got stick up his butt–”

“–Samantha Gene Brady!” Kim said loudly, coming out of her bedroom with Jeannie in tow. 

Sami jumped in surprise, and laughed at the look on her Aunt Kim’s face. “You know he does,” she said without regret. To Rebecca she said, “He’s no fun at all. I mean, Uncle Bo says he used to be, but I think Stefano DiMera broke him, and took all the fun out of him.”

Rebecca’s eyes caught Kim’s sad ones. Softly she said to Sami, “Your dad can be funny. He just needs to remember how.”

“Do you think so?” Sami asked her, looking thoughtful. Roman had never made enough of an attempt to get to know her that she would be invested enough to care. He was in and out of the house so often, and most of the time she only knew he was home by the sound of his loud booming voice yelling about Bo or his job. With a shrug, she said, “I don’t know about that, but if you say so.”

Rebecca allowed herself to be led down the stairs, remembering the night she’d gone out drinking with Roman. He’d loosened up after a few beers, and he was funny. He was funny, and he was charming, and she’d enjoyed his company. The problem was that Stefano really had done serious damage. Stefano had broken Roman, and his brokenness had affected every aspect of his life. He may have had the opportunity to grow and change over time, but instead he’d been trapped and traumatized. Maybe his brokenness was why she was pregnant. But it was possible that this child was an opportunity for him. A chance to try again, and do it right. Could this baby bring a light back to Roman? And why did she care?

Just as they reached the bottom of the staircase, Rebecca was brought back to the present when Sami said, “You know, my mama told me how babies are made. I asked her once, and she told me. I think it’s gross. Why would a woman want a man to put his penis inside her? That doesn’t sound fun at all, but she said that when I get older I’ll understand.” She was quiet for a moment, and then she asked, “Did you like it? Sex, I mean. That’s what happened right? You had sex with Roman, which means he put his penis–”

Three things happened simultaneously. Kim shifted Jeannie on her hip, yelling, “Samantha Gene!”

Rebecca moaned, “Oh, my G-d! This is not happening!”

And Carrie started laughing hysterically as she walked out of the living room into the foyer. 

Sami kept walking as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She stopped in the living room, looked around with wide eyes, “What? It’s true right? Isn’t it? Roman had to put his penis in Rebecca’s–”

Carrie couldn’t stop laughing, pulling great gasps of air into her lungs, as Rebecca turned a vibrant shade of crimson, and Kim yelled, “Oh, for the love of G-d, Sami stop talking!”

With all of them traipsing into the dining room, Carrie looked around realizing how dysfunctional their whole family dynamic actually was. She couldn’t stop herself from laughing even harder when Eric walked in with a piece of toast in his hand, and a large dollop of jam on his chin. Looking around in confusion, he mumbled, “What’s so funny?”

“Aunt Kim! Why won’t you let me talk?” Sami demanded. “Mama lets me talk. She says I’m precocious. Right Eric? Precocious means that I’m extra smart for being a little kid, and she says I ask $100 questions.”

Eric smiled, nodding his head in agreement vigorously, “Sami asks the smart questions.”

Carrie tugged at Sami’s pigtail, still laughing, “Precocious doesn’t mean rude, brat.”

Nonplussed, she asked, “I was being rude?”

“Talking about what people do in private is rude, especially when you’ve just met them,” Kim told her.

“But I’m right…” Sami looked to Rebecca for confirmation, “Right?”

Clearing her throat, Rebecca continued to pray that the embarrassment currently staining her cheeks would fade soon. She muttered weakly, “Yes, you’re right.”

Sami pulled out the chair at the large wooden table, sitting in front of an empty plate, “See? Rebecca had sex with Roman, and they made a baby, and now we’re getting a baby brother or a sister… wait, do you know which one?”

“A boy,” Rebecca told her, clearing her throat. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that this would be her first conversation with Samantha Brady. She glanced over to find Eric watching her curiously with jam all over his face.

He sat chewing his last bite of toast, and then said, “You know, sex is gross. Mama told us what it was, and I’m never doing that. I’m gonna be a priest. Then I don’t have to sex with anyone.”

“What if you fall in love?” Sami asked him with wide eyes. “What then?”

“I’m not gonna fall in love, dummy. Girls are gross, and they smell funny,” he replied.

Rebecca watched the twins in rapt fascination, as she slowly rubbed her palm over her rounded abdomen. Is this what she had to look forward to? Were all children this chatty? And while it was a lot to take in, there was something about them that had her smiling as she watched their back and forth banter. They were so close, and the love they shared, even Carrie, was obvious. Could she really move home to Fife Lake, and take her child away from people who would love him this much? As if on cue, she received a hefty kick in the ribs, and grunted loudly.

All conversation stopped as Sami stared at her with wide eyes, “Did he kick?”

“Uh, yeah,” Rebecca said, trying to lean back a little in her chair to give the baby more room. “Do you–do you want to feel it?”

“Oh, yeah!” Sami scrambled from her chair, and ran around the table. “I got to feel Aunt Kim’s belly when she was pregnant with Jeannie, and that was pretty cool. I’m gonna be a doctor. My mom’s a doctor, and she’s the smartest person I know.” Sami placed her hand on Rebecca’s stomach, and stared at her for a moment, “You seem smart, probably not as smart as my mom… cause she’s really smart, but smart enough.”

“I’m a lawyer,” Rebecca said, wondering if Sami had a filter of any sort at all.

“A lawyer? Mickey Horton is a lawyer, but I don’t know if he’s any good.” Sami turned to Aunt Kim, “Is Mickey Horton a good lawyer, cause I heard Aunt Kayla say one time she doesn’t think he’s ever won a single case.”

Rebecca laughed so hard she snorted, and the baby jumped inside her. Sami’s eyes went wide, “Oh! He kicked again! Probably because you laughed.”

Eric had been sitting quietly, watching the whole scene play out before him, when he finally looked at Rebecca quizzically. “I don’t understand something. Mama said that when a man and a woman are in love they sex and make a baby–”

Sami cut him off, “It’s have sex, dummy. Not sex.”

Rebecca’s eyes met Carrie’s over the table, and Carrie literally winked at her. “Welcome to the family, Rebecca.”

Eric kept talking as if he’d never been interrupted, “Well, what I don’t understand is, Mama said you gotta be married to sex, and you and my dad aren’t married. You’re married to my other dad, John. But you had sex with my dad Roman?” 

Kim didn’t know if she should be angry, impressed, or embarrassed over the current conversation. It was obvious that Rebecca was mortified, but she was handling it well. Clearing her throat, Kim said, “People don’t have to be married to have sex, although commitment is preferrable.”

Eric frowned, “Why did Mama say you had to be marr–”

“–probably because you were eight,” Carrie told him. She was enjoying this conversation way more than she should, and she was well aware that Sami and Eric both were pushing the boundaries because they were toying with Rebecca. They knew they were being rude, and asking personal questions just to embarrass Rebecca. The two of them playing dumb was actually genius, and she was surprised Kim hadn’t figured them out yet.

Rebecca gasped in surprise, “She told them about sex when they were eight?”

Carrie shrugged as if it was no big deal, getting in on the game, “She told me at seven, I think. Marlena and John were always the type of parents who thought if we were old enough to ask, we were old enough to get an age appropriate answer.”

Sami leaned towards Rebecca’s rounded belly, and whispered, “Don’t worry little brother, I’ll answer all of your questions, because I’m going to be a doctor.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Clodagh Brady Farm House, Ballynacally, County Clare, Ireland

She’d walked near five miles to find him, and there he was, sitting in the ruins of their grandmother’s cottage, staring up at the heavens as if he could will Seraphina down from the sky. “Shawn,” Clodagh called from behind him. “I thought I’d be findin’ you out here commiseratin’ with the dead.”

“Leave me be, Clodagh. Ye were irritatin’ when ye was seven, and yer irritatin’ now,” Shawn told her.

Clodagh laughed deep in her belly, as she sidled up beside him, “Well, I can’t say I’ve changed much. I still tell it like it is, and what I’m tellin’ ye now, is that this ain’t ye fault, Shawn Brady. Not a bit of it.”

“Ain’t me fault?” he asked her in surprise. He’d been beating himself up for months over his love for Seraphina. Over the fact that his love for her had Stefano DiMera plotting against his family for more than forty years. “Why, it’s all me fault! All of it!”

“When did ye lose yer faith in G-d, Shawn Brady? That’s what I want to know!” Clodagh stepped in front of him, blocking the sunlight, and forcing him to look at her. She was sick of his moping about, and she was sick of him blaming himself. They had a dinner with a madman fast approaching, and her cousin was about to enter the battle poised to lose if he didn’t pull himself together. 

“I ain’t lost me faith in G-d! I lost faith in meself somewhere along the way, but not with G-d.” Shawn stood up, brushing the dirt from his jeans. He stared down at his cousin, remembering her when they were young. He could still see her freckled face surrounded by a riot of strawberry curls. She’d always been a hellcat. It was probably why she’d never married. No one could tame someone who never wanted to be held down. 

“Mhamó used to say that everything that happened in life, the good and the bad, was all G-d’s plan. That means, everything that happened… all of it, yer love for Phina, the baby what come, and even the evils yer family suffered, as much as we hate it… it was all G-d’s plan,” she told him.

“Well, maybe, I’m hatin’ G-d right now, then!” he roared. “Maybe, I’m not understandin’ what the point of it all is! Phina was the purest soul I ever knew, Clodagh! There was no reason fer her to suffer the way she did! And fer what? Fer what?”

Clodagh was quiet for a few moments, and then she pulled two photographs from her pocket. “I need to tell ye a story, Shawn, and I be wantin’ ye to wait till I’m done before ye say anything,” she gathered herself up, and settled herself onto the ground, patting the grass beside her as if she were inviting an old friend. “Sit back down, Shawn.”

He grumbled and groaned as he lowered himself to the ground, but he didn’t argue with her. Clodagh was not one that you argued with.

“I was called to deliver a baby at Paradise house near the end of June in 1953. I didn’t know at the time, but I figured it as soon as I saw her that it was Seraphina. She was almost unrecognizable. Her long black hair was gone, her head covered in barely two inches of hair that curled every which way. She was small, and her eyes were haunted, Shawn.” Clodagh saw the horror in Shawn’s eyes, and she said, “I never told ye, because soon after that the baby was gone… she was gone, and I thought, what good would it do? It would break yer heart to know had become of her, so I–I kept it quiet. Oh, there was rumors of course, that the baby was stolen away in the night, and Seraphina had gone mad, but nobody ever knew for certain.”

Shawn felt hot tears stream down his cheeks as he whispered helplessly, “Ye should have told me. I–I deserved to know.”

“I’m tellin’ ye now. I can’t make up fer what I did, except to tell it to ye now…” She sighed, “She cried fer ye Shawn. She called yer name as she pushed out yer babe, and she swore ye said ye were comin’ fer her. She was countin’ on ye. I didn’t have the heart to tell her ye were already gone. Left Ireland behind to save ye family ye did.”

Shawn’s eyes went wide in surprise.

“I knew,” Clodagh told him. “We all knew why ye left.” She handed him the photos she’d taken from her pocket, and she said, “I thought maybe… someday, if the time was right, I could give ye these. If ye had nothin’ else, I might be able to give this.”

Shawn stared at the black and white photos in his hand in shock. In one of them Seraphina, with her short black curls framing her tiny heart shaped face, held a small child. She looked exhausted, but her eyes shone with the purest love as she smiled upon her son. In the other, a baby with dark black hair staring into the camera lens with the biggest eyes Shawn had ever seen on a baby.

“He never cried once,” Clodagh said softly. “He came into the world as quiet as a church mouse, staring at the world around him with big blue eyes. I said to him that he was a thinker. He was going to love deeply… I knew it then, and I’d still swear by it now.”

Shawn wiped the tears from his face with a smile, as he said, “He does. John… he loves with everything he’s got, he does.”

“Just remember, G-d has a plan. He does, just as it was his plan that I be there when John was born… and that I, for some reason I didn’t understand, brought the camera with me that night… so that today, when you needed them the most, I could give ye the photos I took that night.” She smiled at him, “Ye need to be strong. Ye need to go into this strong, and bring yer boys home safely. Bring Marlena home safely. Whatever the trouble between Roman and John, ye can worry about that later.”

“Yer a pain in the arse, Clodagh, but yer smart,” he said.

Clodagh laughed, “And it’s high time ye be admittin’ it Shawn Brady. High time indeed.”

Chapter 82

Paradise House, Ballynacally, County Clare, Ireland

The doors to Paradise House were opened wide when they arrived. A lone butler, dressed in an immaculate uniform greeted them. He seemed meek, almost broken, with thinning gray hair. Refusing to make eye contact, the butler said, “This way.” Then he turned around, and started walking away from them.

Roman glanced at Bo with a raised eyebrow, but they followed behind. Roman looked around the massive entryway with a sneer. Stefano was always living in the lap of luxury while he’d left Roman to rot in jail in the jungle for nearly seven years. The high ceilings were edged with snow white painted crown molding. The floor was tiled in marble, inlaid with copper edging. Extravagance littered every surface, ornate frames, brass candelabras, and Roman wondered how many other people Stefano had rotting in substandard living conditions while he lived like a king.

Shane was watching everything, and everyone. Nothing escaped him, and he couldn’t afford to miss anything. By the time they reached the large, over-decorated dining room, he had made a mental note of every camera they had passed, even the ones Stefano thought were hidden. He’d memorized the layout of the house that had been delivered by his ISA informant. Gabe had a talent well beyond being an undercover operative. His scale on the floor plan was near perfect. 

Upon entering the empty dining room, Bo noticed the large wooden table laid with fine china, and the most expensive crystal. Stefano was preparing for a show. He remembered some of the extreme things Stefano was known for, crashing airplanes, and stranding people on deserted islands. Bo still had nightmares about holding Roman in his arms as life drained from him on that abandoned beach almost eleven years earlier. Even though Roman was alive and well, there were still times when Bo woke, covered in sweat and screaming his brother’s name. He glanced towards the fireplace with the marble mantle, and he said, “Somebody’s living the high life.”

“He sure is,” Roman mumbled in disgust.

“Stick to the plan,” Shane said quietly, sensing Roman’s agitation. “We stick to the plan. It’s the only way to make sure that John and Marlena are alive. Once we know, we can move from there.”

“I just want to get Doc, and get the hell out of here,” Roman told him.

Shawn watched his son warily, “It won’t be that easy, Roman. We need to stick with Shane’s plan… don’t be doin’ anything rash, ye hear me?”

Roman didn’t respond. His father, Bo, and Shane had been treating him like a child for the last week. He didn’t understand why they didn’t seem to have a greater sense of urgency. Marlena had been gone for close to seven months. Six months of that time had been with John. Stefano had spent the whole duration pushing John and Marlena closer and closer together. Roman was well aware that he and Marlena had both made mistakes, but he still hoped that they would be able to work things out. All he needed was time to talk to her, without the interruption of his family, Stefano, or John. Marlena would understand when he explained everything. He just needed time.

Almost a half hour later they’d been served drinks, but still sat alone in the dining room. Roman stood up, pushing his chair back so hard it fell to the oriental carpet with a dull thud. “I’m going to look for her. I’m tired of waiting.”

“No, ye ain’t,” Shawn said forcefully. “Ye’ll be sittin’ yerself down.”

“This type of reaction is exactly what Stefano wants from you. It’s what he expects, and he’s probably somewhere watching,” Bo told him. “He’s watching, and you’re playing right into his hands.”

Shane sighed. This whole week was exhausting. It had been a constant tug and pull with Roman. Roman had no idea, but they’d all taken shifts during the nights simply to make sure he didn’t sneak away, and do something impulsive or stupid. “Roman,” he said as calmly as he could, “Stefano is playing games. He always does. He will arrive, as will Marlena and John. We simply have to be patient, and play the game by his rules right now.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Stefano laughed, entering the room. “Shane Donovan, always the clear head, and the voice of reason.” He glanced around the room with a smug face, his eyes landing on Shawn for a moment. “Time has not been your friend, Shawn; however I understand that constant stress can age a man.”

Shawn glanced towards Shane, noticing the almost imperceptible shake of his head. He didn’t respond. He watched Stefano with the intensity of an animal being stalked, and that’s what he felt like; as if Stefano were on the hunt. They wouldn’t have been invited to Paradise House unless Stefano had a plan.

Getting tired of the silence Roman demanded, “I think it’s about time you told us what’s going on, and why you’ve brought us here.”

With a deep laugh, Stefano replied, “You are still impulsive and demanding, Roman. I would have thought that seven years in a prison cell would have taught you some patience. All in due time. You will see your precious Marlena, and Shawn… it will be a touching family reunion to see your firstborn son again.”

Roman felt rage well up inside his belly, but he stayed quiet. Logically he knew that John was his fathers first born son, that didn’t make hearing it from Stefano’s mouth any easier. Hearing it from Stefano, with arrogance shining from his eyes as if he was the bearer of a dark secret only served to make him more bitter. All of the horrors that Stefano had put him through. Everything that Stefano had done to hurt his family, was all because of John.

“I think we both know this thing is between the two of us,” Shawn replied. “This vendetta ye have against me family… innocent people, it needs to end.”

“Innocent?” Stefano asked him. “The sins of the father are often visited on the sons. John’s very existence is stained by the sins of his lying, cheating and disloyal parents. Perhaps he is innocent, but I will not rest until I feel that you have suffered–”

“–Suffered? I’ve been sufferin’ fer more than forty years! I’ve been sufferin’ every night when I dream of Phina on the floor with me babe in her belly, and her hair layin’ about her on the floor!” Shawn cried. “That’s enough sufferin’ fer one man, and yet ye decide ye need to make the innocent suffer too?”

Stefano stared at Shawn with hard eyes, saying nothing in response. Turning away from them he fought to rein in his temper. Even after all these years hearing Shawn speak of his wife with such love had him on the verge of fury. Hearing him call her Phina added a whole other level savagery. They would all suffer by the time this was over. The sound of his feet across the carpet was the only sound he made as he approached the drink table on the other side. Pouring himself a small portion of Strega, Stefano turned, lifting his glass. “To a wonderful evening.”

Marlena heard Stefano’s toast just before she entered the room, flanked by Gabe and Brandon. She’d somehow managed to get herself into the ornate gown Stefano had provided with the help of a female maid. Her hair was down, hanging in curls around her face. In six months she’d gained several inches in length, making her hair much longer than she normally kept it. The dress was a snug fit, obviously intended for someone nearly a whole size smaller than her. It was a deep blue, almost the exact color of John’s eyes, which was the first thing she’d noticed about it. Fitted at the waist, the bodice tight, pushing her breasts high. She could feel the fall of layers of silk and chiffon as it brushed against her calves. It was older, smelling musty, as if it had been in a box somewhere for ages. Marlena suspected it had belonged to Seraphina. What better way for Stefano to continue to mess with their minds?

As soon as she crossed the threshold into the dining room, her eyes landed on Stefano. His dark glance held hers. Without being aware of who else was in the room, she asked him, “Where is John?”

“John?” he asked her. “Is that your only concern?”

More insistent, she pushed, “I want to see him! I want to make sure he’s healthy… that you haven’t… you haven’t taken his memories again.” 

She stepped closer to Stefano, realizing there were other people in the room, just as she heard Roman cry out, “Doc!” and rush towards her.

Stepping back quickly, she scanned the room. Bo. Shane. Roman… and Shawn. With a sob, she ran past Roman, throwing herself into Shawn’s arms. He held her tightly, his heart breaking at the way her weeping shook her. Shawn whispered softly, “Ah, lassie, we’re here now… we’re here, and we’re…we’re going to try and get ye outta this mess. Ye hear me?”

“John…” she lifted her face, wiping at her tears. “Have you seen him yet?”

“No… he’s not been here yet,” Shawn told her. 

Wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, Marlena stared up at him. It was a simple gesture, so similar to John and it pulled at her heart. Her voice shook as she tried to speak, “He’s your… John’s your– we think he might be–”

“–me boy?” Shawn finished for her. “He is… Shane did the DNA test. He’s me son.”

Marlena felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Even though she’d been almost certain that Shawn was John’s father, knowing for certain that he was would mean so much to John.

Roman watched the whole exchange between his father and his wife with growing fury. She’d run right past him. She hadn’t even acknowledged his presence in the room. Watching her whispered exchange with Shawn, and the way her face went from worry to relief, he knew they were discussing John, and it only infuriated him further. In an effort to get her attention, he gently laid his hand on her arm.

Marlena glanced down at Roman’s hand where it lay against her skin, and all she could see were the black and white photos of him and Rebecca in their house… naked on their dining room table… against the wall… the stairs. She shook his hand off, almost hissing at him, “Don’t touch me.”

Roman said her name softly, “Doc… if we could just talk…” 

“No… no…” she whispered, glancing around the room. “We will discuss this at another time, but please, don’t touch me right now.”

“Marlena,” Stefano said with a drawl in his deep voice. “You look beautiful.”

She turned to face him, the crinoline underneath swaying as she turned, “I’m sure there’s a reason you selected this dress?”

“Ah, you are always so succinct and observant. Do you not like it?” he asked her, gesturing to the dress. Seraphina had worn that dress to their first dinner party after they were wed. He had practically torn it from her body when they returned home that evening. Marlena was slightly taller than Seraphina, but the dress still hugged her body beautifully. He could imagine removing it from Marlena’s body as well, but that was a fantasy for another day. “The blue against your skin is so elegant.”

“I’m sure this dress looked beautiful on Seraphina as well,” Marlena said softly, trailing her fingers along the lace overlay atop the skirt. 

Shawn’s eyes went to Stefano quickly, “What game are ye playing at ye sick bastard?”

“Ah Shawn, you must admit that Marlena looks beautiful,” Stefano said, drinking the last of his Strega. 

In the recesses of the house, John followed Mason down the narrow, steep, servants staircase wondering just what this evening might hold. Stefano had insisted on a tuxedo, and sent someone to his room to ensure that he shaved his beard. He’d even sent someone to cut his hair. John rolled his head on his stiff shoulders. Reaching his hand back, he felt his bare neck, remembering the forced haircut, close cropped across the nape and shorter on the sides. It wasn’t horrible, it was simply different. John’s only reassurance was that Mason had promised him that he would be able to see Marlena. He would be able to see that she was alive and well, and Marlena’s well-being was the only ace Stefano held. John knew that Stefano was well aware, after what he’d done to Dante, that John’s patience wouldn’t last forever.

Marlena gasped as John entered the room. He was fit, and healthy with a clean shaven face and fresh haircut. Nothing and no one could stop her as she flung herself into his arms with a cry of, “Oh!”

He buried his face in her hair, gasping,  “Doc!” Stroking along her back, and over her hips, his hands finally cupped her face, “Are you okay? Has he done anything to you?”

“No… no, no, I was just so worried about you!” she told him, tracing her fingers along his freshly shaven jaw. “After what he did in Baliceaux…and then in Mexico…” She rubbed her face against his neck whispering, “I was so scared.”

“It’s such a touching moment. A reunion always is. Wouldn’t you agree, Roman?” Stefano gestured to Mason, saying, “I want John seated on my right, please.”

“Yes, sir,” Mason replied. This whole macabre scene was becoming overwhelming. He’d been through this type of scenario so many times as Stefano played with people over the years, but this was the only time that he’d felt as torn as he was, so disgusted. He knew it was because of the memories that were returning. Suddenly rediscovering emotions after twenty-five years was overwhelming. He approached John, placing his hand on his arm, and said, “This way.”

For a moment, John didn’t move. He stared at Marlena, afraid to let her go, but then she nodded once, and Mason tugged him. He whispered next to her ear,  “I love you.”

Smiling gently, she whispered back, “I love you.” 

Marlena’s fingers held onto his hand until the last second, enraging Roman. He wanted to push forward, tearing John’s hand away from her. She was his wife. His. A small part of his brain told him he had no right to feel so possessive of her. She wasn’t property. She wasn’t an item to possess, but he couldn’t seem to get past the primitive part of his head that was screaming, mine.

Bo watched the interplay between John and Marlena, and knew it was too late for Roman. The two of them had never been as in love as he was witnessing right then. Almost seven months together, alone, depending on each other while Stefano played his damned mind games. There was no way to deny it, even though Bo could see the rage on Roman’s face. Those seven months had solidified a bond that already existed. He glanced over at Roman, noting the scowl on his brother’s face, and he knew Roman wasn’t giving up without a fight. 

Once seated at the table, Shane recognized Stefano’s strategy immediately. Marlena on his left. John on his right. Stefano, of course, sat himself at the head of the table like a master of ceremonies. Placing Shawn beside John, and Roman next to Marlena was another strategic move on his part. Shane and Bo weren’t a consideration. Stefano wanted all of his pawns close. This would be a dinner intended to set them all on edge. With a smile, Stefano held up his wine glass. Shane watched his butler rush forward filling it with chilled red wine. Clearing his throat, Stefano said, “I came to realize this morning that a mistake was made. I had promised Marlena and John that they might write to each other, but it seems their letters were delivered to Roman by mistake.”

  John sneered in derision, “Are you saying that was an accident?”

“Are you insinuating otherwise?” Stefano asked him as he sipped his wine.

“I’m not an insinuation,” John told him. “It’s a fact. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Perhaps,” Stefano replied with a smile. “Did you enjoy them, Roman? Their declarations of love were quite compelling, would you not agree?”

Losing his patience for the whole evening, Roman said, “Fuck you.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Roman, that is not the type of language appropriate for a dinner party,” Stefano told him. Glee shone from his eyes as they crinkled at the edges. Watching Roman combust right before his eyes was something he’d always enjoyed.

John and Marlena continued to stare at each other as each course was served, only making Roman increasingly agitated. Finally, Stefano started to laugh, “Roman, you seem so upset that Marlena seems to only have eyes for John. Does her love for your brother make you angry?”

“She’s my wife,” Roman stated firmly. “John has his own wife. He hasn’t even inquired about her.”

“Ah, yes. John’s wife, Rebecca. How is she doing, Roman?” Stefano waited to see how Roman would react, knowing he’d turned the tables on him. Roman was silent, and Stefano told Shawn bluntly, “You have raised a son who is a faithless hypocrite, Shawn. I expected more. He sits here seething because his brother has made love to his wife, and yet we are all aware of Roman’s own behavior, are we not?” He leaned forward, staring at Roman for a moment before saying, “That indiscretion has led to a child, has it not?” Marlena gasped softly, twisting her head slowly to stare at Roman in surprise. Smiling Stefano said, “Rebecca is due with your son within the next three months, but not to worry John… she is no longer your wife.”

John wasn’t surprised. He’d suspected as much when he’d left Rebecca in Italy. She had too much pride to stay married to him, and his desperation to get to Marlena was telling. Rebecca’s intuition and her ability to ferret out the truth meant she’d probably decided before she left for Salem. Looking across the table, he saw the pain in Marlena’s eyes. It wasn’t because Rebecca was pregnant, it was because of the timing. Marlena had barely been gone a month when Roman and Rebecca slept together. A month. John thought he should feel something as well, but he didn’t. Maybe it was because he was never truly in love with Rebecca. Maybe it was because he was so in love with Marlena, that nothing else mattered. Either way he was ambivalent to Rebecca sleeping with Roman, although he had to admit the baby was a surprise.

“You do not seem upset, John.” Stefano stared at him for a moment, before saying, “But then, Marlena has her own surprise.” Marlena’s eyes widened slightly as she turned to glance at Stefano. “Oh you thought I did not know? How naive. You see, Roman, Marlena herself is with child. Within the next six months she will give birth to your niece or nephew. My, my, my, the family lines are blurring.” 

Roman looked at his wife in horror, knowing from the look on her face that everything Stefano had just said was true. She’d slept with John. She’d been sleeping with him, if her reaction when he entered the room was any indication. Standing up, he knocked his chair over as he lunged across the table towards John, roaring, “You fucking bastard! You went after her just to seduce her!”

“No!” Marlena yelled, pulling on Roman’s arm. “No! It wasn’t like that! It wasn’t like that at all!”

Bo managed to pull Roman back, telling him, “Sit your ass down!”

Marlena sank into her chair, sobbing into her hands. Roman was hurting, and she understood that, but it was too late. It was too late for them. What he’d done with Rebecca couldn’t be undone. What she’d done with John… she wouldn’t want to undo. Her hand rested on her abdomen just as she felt John’s foot slide along her calf. She looked up to find his intense blue eyes watching her. 

He saw her hand where it lay on her belly, and he mouthed the words I love you. No matter what happened, he wasn’t giving her up. Watching her then, he saw that she was scared and probably feeling guilty, but she was, and would forever be his. If he had to remind her of that everyday for the rest of their lives he would. 

“So, you see Shawn,” Stefano was saying. “Everything… every ounce of pain that your family has suffered is because of your selfishness. You destroyed my family, and I shall destroy yours.” Raising his glass he told the room, “But I have a plan. A way to end it all, and it involves your sons.”

Shawn roared in outrage, “This is between us, Stefano! Ye need to leave John and Roman out of it!”

“Ah, see Shawn, I disagree.” He glanced at the people seated around the table as if he were a king and they his subjects. “But, I do grow weary of these games, and so tomorrow we shall end it once and for all. I have always been fascinated by the duels of old, and so we shall have one. The prize, Marlena.”

It all happened so quickly, no one had time to react. One moment Marlena was seated, and the next she was being led from the room by Gabe. She tried to turn around, reaching for John, but she was being pulled along. “John! Please just let me say–” And then she was gone from the room.

John stood up, racing around the table, closely followed by Mason. Stefano waved his hand carelessly. “Let them go. It will not matter. Tomorrow at dawn…the east field. I want you, Roman, to select your second… and if you refuse… Marlena becomes my prize. I have become quite fascinated by her.”

“Don’t touch her,” Roman yelled standing up. “Don’t you dare put your fucking hands on her!”

Stefano stood up from his chair, refusing to acknowledge Roman’s outburst. He was used to his blustering. “Tomorrow morning.”

Shawn was in a state of shock as Bo and Shane led him from Paradise House. Roman was determined. If he had to shoot John to save Marlena, he would do it. He started to say so, but Bo cut him off, “Not now, Roman! Not here!”

Inside the house in the narrow servants staircase, John stared up, and saw Marlena standing there quietly with Gabe. Mason pushed him against the wall, whispering “You have two minutes with her.”

John looked around quickly, “Cameras?”

“There are none here… but we don’t have much time,” Mason said, releasing him quickly. 

John turned, taking the stairs three at a time, reaching Marlena in seconds. His eyes caught Gabe’s, and he nodded once before pulling Marlena into his arms. She sobbed softly, “John!”

“Oh, Doc! Oh baby, are you okay?” he asked her, checking her over.

Looking at Gabe, she said, “I don’t understand–”

“I don’t either,” he said softly. “But… I trust Mason. We don’t have any other option.”

Her hazel eyes were full of tears, “I’m so scared.”

“Do you trust me?” he asked her, cupping her face in his palm. “I will do everything in my power to get us out of here.”

“But Roman–” she choked. “You can’t–”

“I won’t kill him, Doc. I won’t. I’ll figure something out, but I won’t do that to you… or Carrie, or Sami, or Eric… or Pop. I couldn’t live with myself.” He kissed her lips softly, “I won’t kill him. I may have to shoot him… but I won’t kill him.”

“Shoot him?” she whispered, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“I love you. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone… trust me,” he said, pulling her close to him. “Trust me.”

Marlena held him tightly, “I trust you.”

Gabe reached for her arm, “We have to go. Now.” Glancing at Mason he said, “Wait one minute before you exit.”

Marlena whispered, “I love you”, one last time and then she was gone. John turned to find Mason watching him from three steps down. “Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

Chapter 83

Paradise House, Ballynacally, County Clare, Ireland

The hill overlooking the River Shannon was brightening with the early morning sun that was just beginning to peek over the horizon. Varying hues of pink, and yellow spread across the clouds in the sky. It was a pristine location, beautiful in its natural state, but foreboding for its intentions, since ultimately Stefano was planning an execution. 

Mason and Gabe had brought Marlena and John out early. Mason knew that Stefano would not arrive until precisely 5:30 am – no earlier and no later. It was another way to play with their minds, to build anticipation, and anxiety. 

Marlena almost tripped over her own feet in her haste to reach John. She ran to him, crashing into his arms with a soft sob, while burying her face in his neck. No amount of reassurance the night before was enough. She’d barely slept. It had been a night full of tortured dreams. Dreams that were full of violence and death… dreams that were full of helplessness, and fear. Nothing brought her more comfort than the feel of John’s arms around her, and the scent of his skin as she rubbed her cheek against him. Only that could calm her raging mind. Resting her face against his chest, she listened to John’s beating heart. She saw Gabe and Mason standing near one of the largest oak trees she’d ever seen, staring off towards the house while speaking quietly. They were trying to give her and John some modicum of privacy. 

Lifting her head, she glanced towards Gabe and Mason, asking John, “Do you know what’s happening?”

John’s eyes caught Mason’s, and he whispered to Marlena, “Mason’s memories are returning. He’s remembering the same things I’ve remembered, but his microchip is still intact. It’s affecting his emotions, but he’s–he’s going to help us.”

Staring up at him, she said, “And Gabe?”

“ISA,” John told her. “So is Brandon, the maid, Mary, and the Cook.”

Marlena’s eyes widened in surprise, “What about the butler?”

“No… but he’s willing to stay out of it,” John said softly. “He’s scared for his family. He knows what’s going on, but he’s staying in the house.”

“Is there a plan?” she wanted to know. Her biggest fear was that something would go wrong, and John would end up dead. “Please tell me there is a plan.”

“There’s a rough plan,” he told her. He couldn’t offer any more reassurance than that. “As we both know, Stefano is arrogant, but unpredictable. Gabe and Brandon cannot break cover unless a life is threatened.”

Marlena’s anxiety started to rise even higher, “A rough plan? John, honey, that makes me nervous.” Her hand reached up cupping his jaw, “If Gabe and Brandon can’t break cover, and Mason is only now getting his memories back… John, I can’t lose you.”

“Doc, they’re on our side. The only wild card was Dante, and I–I took care of that.” He glanced away for a moment, staring out over the wide expanse of river. He could still feel the satisfying crack of Dante’s jaw underneath his pounding fist. Dante would be drinking out of a straw for the next five weeks, and John took a certain amount of pleasure in knowing that. As far as he knew, Dante’s face was so swollen he couldn’t even see. With a sigh, he whispered, “Dante will not be a problem.”

Threading her fingers into his hair, she laid her head on his shoulder, “Okay.” 

There was nothing more to be said. The only unpredictable variable in this scenario was Stefano, and she hoped, just as John hoped, that it would be enough. Stefano’s announcement of her pregnancy at dinner had made her wary. How much more might he know? Was he already aware of Mason’s returning memories? Did he have Brandon in his pocket secretly? She was scared, and all she could do was pray, and hope that everything would work out, because losing John at their current juncture might permanently destroy her. 

John reached out, placing his index finger under her chin gently. Lifting her face so that she was looking up at him, he whispered, “I love you. I love you, Doc, and I swear… I swear that I will die before I let something happen to you.”

“That’s what I’m scared of,” she cried softly. Her fingers gripped the front of his t-shirt, “I can’t live without you. Please, whatever you do… don’t do something foolish. I love you.”

“You’re having my baby,” John whispered huskily. “I will do whatever I have to do to keep you both safe.”

Marlena sighed gently, “I am having your baby, and the timing couldn’t be worse, but I wouldn’t change anything, because this baby… our baby, was created in love, and a baby created in love can only be a blessing.”

“Our baby,” he sighed with a soft smile. The mere idea of their child growing within her womb was overwhelming. It was overwhelming, and it was sexy. John’s palm caressed her hip as he whispered, “Our baby…” 

He kissed her gently, licking slowly over her bottom lip, seeking entrance. She moaned quietly, barely a whisper on a breeze, and her mouth opened allowing him in. She couldn’t get close enough. Standing on her tiptoes, she tugged him closer, mewling softly into his mouth. John’s arm wrapped around her waist, almost lifting her from the ground, and he groaned, “No one is going to touch you… because you, and our child… you are my life.”

The ache of fear grew in her chest, as she felt her tears stream down her face. Biting at his mouth, she told him, “You are mine.”

Across the field, Roman stopped walking, watching Marlena plaster herself against John. In all of his time with her, he couldn’t recall her ever seeming as ardent with him. Her fingers laced through John’s short hair, tugging him closer as John kissed like he would devour her. For fucks sake. Roman didn’t even realize that his fists were clenched in rage, until Bo shook his shoulder saying, “You need to keep it together. We can worry about the rest after we get them out of here, but you have to stick to the plan.”

“My plan should be to shoot his fucking ass,” Roman replied. “Look at them! He’s taking advantage of her vulnerability and she looks like a G-d damned slut. I should shoot John, and take my wife home.”

“That is what you are not going to do,” Shane said with growing apprehension. The last thing they needed was for Roman to lose sight of the end result, but Shane was certain that Roman’s unpredictability was exactly what Stefano was counting on in this scenario. “Besides, Roman, John would anticipate your shot, and shoot you first. He’s absolutely intuitive with a weapon. We are trying to avoid that. Tell me you are going to follow the plan, Roman. I need your promise.”

“He be followin’ the plan, Shane. Won’t ye?” Shawn asked, staring at his son with a fierce look of determination. Roman may be headstrong and obstinate, but he wasn’t stupid. “He be followin’ the plan if’n he wants to stay alive.” 

Roman didn’t reply. He was watching his wife stare up at John adoringly, while the other man placed his palm on her abdomen. Getting his wife back had been less complicated before finding out about the child she was expecting with his brother. Shooting John and killing him would take one variable out of the current equation, and Roman was beginning to think it wouldn’t be a bad idea. With a grunt he started walking towards where the other group stood. 

Shawn, Bo, and Shane all shared looks of concern, but it was too late. They were there, and Stefano was approaching from the direction of the house. 

Shane was relieved to see that the only person with Stefano was Brandon. An ISA plant, Brandon was an expert shot, which was why Stefano would keep him close. It had taken months of work to get Brandon and Gabe on the inside of the DiMera organization. Infiltrating from the lowest levels had taken time, and at the risk of being discovered, communication had been forbidden until last week. The discovery of Brandon or Gabe as ISA agents would flip the tables in Stefano’s favor. Shane was hoping that all of that hard work wouldn’t go south in the next hour. They needed to get John and Marlena to safety with as few casualties as possible.

Marlena stepped back from John as Roman approached, but she refused to release his hand. She wasn’t ashamed of her love for him. A small part of her felt that she should at least feel some guilt, but she didn’t. Her loyalty and her unwavering love for John had been cemented over the last seven months. There was sadness for Roman, but glancing up at John, Marlena knew that he was her forever. Tightening her grip on his hand, she followed John’s gaze to see Stefano and Brandon approaching from the direction of the house.

Clasped in Brandon’s hands was a large, polished, wooden box. Bo knew what it contained, and knowing how Stefano loved pomp and circumstance, it likely held antique pistols with polished ivory handles or some shit like that. He knew he was right when Stefano took the box from Brandon, glancing at everyone assembled with an air of arrogance.

His large stubby fingers flipped the latch on the box, and opened it slowly. “1799 North & Cheney flintlock pistols. Fitting for this moment, would you not agree?”

“Those damned things are liable to explode in our faces,” Roman muttered.

“You sadistic bastard,” John’s voice was laced with hatred. Lunging towards Stefano, he said, “You fucking sadistic bastard!”

Brandon had drawn his weapon, leveling it at John’s chest in a single instant. With a calm wave of his hand, Stefano nodded at Mason, who by then had a firm grip on John. “I expect you to keep better control of John, Mason. You are not usually so careless.” To Brandon he said, “Never pull out a weapon in haste.”

Bo and Shane exchanged a look with Gabe, who seemed surprised. All of them were caught off guard at the speed with which Brandon had drawn his weapon. Their concern was confirmed when Stefano laughed, “I find it quite humorous that the ISA believed that they could place an agent within my inner circle while I remained ignorant.”

Shane was silent, refusing to respond to Stefano’s allegation. With a sneer Stefano said, “Anyone can be bought. Loyalty can be bought.”

Brandon looked down at his hands with guilt. It was too late to back out now. Stefano’s offer had been the one to win him over, and he had to stand by his choice, although, in truth, it wasn’t much of a choice. Die or switch sides. Switch sides… or his sister would die. At least he hadn’t exposed Gabe. That was his only redemption. He took the wooden box Stefano handed him, and waited.

Realizing that Brandon’s cover had been blown, Shane tried to work out what might possibly happen from that point. Any intel he’d gathered from Brandon was now forfeit. It left the intel gathered by Gabe as highly suspect as well. Shane hated being so blind, but he’d been an ISA agent for a long time. Thinking his way out of tight situations was a skill. His eyes met Bo’s, and he gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

Bo looked away quickly, lest he draw Stefano’s attention. Shane’s message was clear, Brandon was out. All they could hope for was Gabe. Glancing back towards where John stood with Mason and Marlena, Bo realized Mason was watching him closely. For the barest, briefest flicker in time he saw John staring back at him from Mason’s blue eyes. Shock rocked him, but he pushed down his reaction. Brandon had switched sides, but Bo was almost positive that Mason had too.

“Roman… John, have you selected your seconds?” Stefano asked them.

“I’m second for Roman,” Shane said, stepping forward. They’d decided last night. Shawn already had two of his sons forced to participate in this debacle. Bo would stay out of it.

John stared at Stefano incredulously, “How exactly would I have a second for this farce, old man?” John struggled to free himself from Mason’s grip. The feeling of impotence and helplessness was something that John had never dealt with well. It was usually Marlena who calmed him, but right then he felt even more helpless feeling like he should be calming her. “This whole G-d damned thing from start to finish was intended to see me dead, and Shawn destroyed emotionally. Am I right?”

“Ah, ah, ah, John. You always were impulsive.” Stefano smiled, “I am sure someone would be willing to step in. Perhaps your father?”

For the first time since learning that Shawn could be his father, John’s eyes met Shawn’s and held. Everything that had been going on had his sole focus on Marlena, but as he stared at Shawn, John said, “No. Not Shawn… I don’t need a second.”

“Now, John, it is a duel. Everyone needs a second,” Stefano said.

Stepping forward, Bo said firmly, “Me. I’ll be John’s second.”

“What the fuck, Bo?” Roman yelled. “You’re going to make sure he has a functioning weapon so he can shoot me? I’m your brother!”

Bo looked at Roman as if he didn’t even recognize him, “Are you serious right now, Roman? He’s our brother!”

“He’s my brother, and right now I don’t give a shit whether he lives or dies,” Roman roared. 

Bo stared at Roman, shocked and hurt. Leave it to Roman, wallowing in his own pain, to disregard anyone else’s feelings. He glanced over at John when he felt his hand on his arm. Softly, John told him, “You don’t have to do this, Bo.”

“No, John,” Bo told him. “I do have to do this. You are my brother. Blood doesn’t make a family. You are family. You have been for almost ten years. You need someone to stand in for you… I’m going to do it.”

“How touching,” Stefano sneered at Shawn. He forced himself to hold his body stiffly, fighting off the urge to roll his shoulders. This was the final culmination of more than forty years of planning. Everything must go perfectly. “One bastard son stepping forward to protect another bastard son.”

Nodding once at Shane, Bo stepped closer to where John was standing next to Marlena. Bo really hoped that Shane had a plan, because losing Brandon threw everything into limbo. “John needs a second. I’ll do it.”

Marlena stood rooted in place in abject shock. There was no other way to describe what she was feeling. Every nightmare she had ever had would never compare to that moment. Surrounded by people she’d loved for years, and finding herself completely at a loss left her panic stricken, and all she could do was pray that John survived it. Glancing over at Shawn, she felt that he seemed so much older than he had seven months earlier. He was scared. They were all scared. 

“Good, good. We can proceed.” Waving his hand towards Brandon, Stefano said, “These pistols have been in the DiMera family since 1799. I have decided that since John is the most likely to die today, I will allow Bo to select his weapon first. Choose wisely Beauregard… both of your brothers lives could depend on it.”

Mason was taking note of every player, every position, and every word. Stefano and Brandon were the real enemy. Roman Brady was a wild card. He seemed desperate and angry. Those types of men acted rashly and without thought. Horrible consequences often came without intended malice, and that made Roman Brady the most dangerous man present.

Staring at Stefano with rage lining every part of his person, John roared, “You are fucking insane, old man!”

Stefano smiled, and said, “I believe Captain Ahab said, All my means are sane, my motive and my object mad.”

“What if we don’t agree?” Shawn asked. “What if me boys refuse to participate in this macabre performance of yers? Have ye thought of that?”

“I have considered it from every angle Shawn, and they will participate,” Stefano replied. “I have insurance that they will particpate.”

In their distraction, they hadn’t realized that Brandon had moved around the group, and it was only when John heard the faintest gasp that he reached for Marlena just a second too late. Standing off to the side, Brandon held her, his palm was firmly placed over her mouth and his pistol was aimed at her head. 

“You see,” Stefano told them. “I thought this might happen. This is a duel after all. The prize is Marlena. One of you will die, and the other will take her safely home.”

“I won’t kill him,” John roared in frustration at Stefano’s smug face. Glancing at Shawn, he cried helplessly, “I won’t kill him, Pop. I won’t.”

“Then you will die, John Black,” Stefano replied with a smile. “Because, I believe that for the prize of Marlena, Roman may very seriously consider killing you. If you don’t… Marlena dies, and your child with her.”

Chapter 84

Paradise House, Ballynacally, County Clare, Ireland

[This chapter had a co-author, @rachieQ, because she’s amazing, and she was willing to help a girl out. I sometimes struggle with writing those intense emotions in action sequences, so thank you to the girl I love the most…] 

John felt his whole world collapsing. For the briefest of moments, his world went black. This couldn’t be happening. They couldn’t have gone through the hell they’d experienced over the last seven months to have it end like this. His eyes closed, and he felt himself drowning in despair, and then, a voice so soft in his ear that he could have imagined it, “Non finirà così, passerotto [It will not end like this, little sparrow].”

He felt the squeeze of his bicep where Mason held him, and suddenly he knew definitively that Mason was on his side. His papi. His uncle. Luca. 

John lifted his eyes, refusing to look at Mason, and instead focused on Stefano’s smug face, “You will fucking die for this!” 

Mason’s words echoed in John’s mind. It will not end like this, little sparrow. He had nothing left but those words, and he had to trust Mason. 

Marlena’s eyes saw it all, and she glanced at Stefano quickly, before going back to John. Stefano had missed it. She’d seen Mason lean towards John, and she’d watched as John’s facial expression had changed slightly. Mason had said something to him, something that gave him hope. Her eyes caught Mason’s, and what she saw there gave her a burning belief that everything would turn out as it should. What she saw was Luca looking back at her, not Mason, but Luca. Brandon may have switched sides, but Stefano didn’t realize Mason had as well.

Stefano was smug, overconfident and almost feverish in his eagerness to see his final plan playing out. His overwhelming egotism and certainty that he had covered all possible eventualities blurred everything else out. While he was busy hubristically congratulating himself on his brilliance, he was missing crucial communications between the players. It was a classic example of what arrogance could do to a man. Waving his hand, he ordered Brandon, “Bring Marlena over here. I want her next to me as she watches her lovers kill each other.  She will witness Shawn’s destruction from my side. That is what all of this is about, is it not?” Glancing around he laughed deep in his chest, “For Shawn to suffer the loss of everything he holds dear… the same way I did. And for me to take what is left.”

Marlena’s nails scraped at the soft skin of Brandon’s hand as she pulled it from over her mouth. Her blonde hair swirled about her head, and her eyes flashed with rage as she screamed at Stefano, “I hate you! I fucking hate you!” She detested everything about him. If she’d had a gun in her hand at that moment, she absolutely wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him again, since her last attempt ten years earlier had been unsuccessful. 

John smiled watching the brilliance of Marlena in her wrath. He needed that. He needed to see Marlena in her natural state – fierce, fighting, and refusing to give up. He remembered their time in Gauley Valley all those years ago, and her tireless refusal to give in. After Marlena had crashed the car, hurting herself, she’d still fought him. In the cave, near freezing, she fought him. That was the woman he was seeing now, and that was who he needed her to be. If Marlena stayed fierce, he could focus on the rest, and that primarily involved ridding the world, once and for all, of Stefano DiMera.

While she screamed at Stefano, while John watched her, Roman stared at his wife as if he didn’t recognize her. John’s smile left him unnerved. Almost as if John were encouraging Marlena to fight. But that was the last thing Roman wanted. If Marlena fought back, and did something stupid, she could get herself killed. Why the hell would she do that? 

“Doc!” Roman yelled frantically, even though it was clear she either couldn’t hear him, or she had no intention of listening. “Doc, stop fighting!”

Shane stepped behind him, placing his hand on his shoulder, squeezing and pulling him backward. Loudly, so that he could puncture Roman’s aura of absolute self-absorbtion, he said, “Roman, Marlena is one of the strongest women I know. She’ll be fine. You need to focus on what’s about to happen. She can handle her part. Do you hear me?”

“She’s going to get herself killed!” Roman cried, both furious at, and terrified for, Marlena at the same time.

“Son, Marlena shot Stefano DiMera in the rafters of the Salem Opera House, so she did!” Shawn told him, the fear and frustration lacing his voice. “She tracked him down, and she shot him! Ye need to stop treatin’ her as if she be weak!” Shawn pointed towards where Marlena still struggled in Brandon’s arms, “That woman over there… she ain’t weak, Roman Brady. She’s never been weak. She’s been through tryin’ times to be sure, but Marlena Evans is one of the strongest women I’ve known in me life! Things changed when ye were gone, she had to make her way on her own. She had to keep her children out of DiMera’s clutches…. she’s anything but weak.”

“John’s going to get her killed,” Roman told them, angrily trying to shrug off Shane’s hand as he deliberately ignored everything they had to say.  Marlena was his wife.  He knew her better than any of them. Whatever they thought, he knew Marlena. She liked to think she was tough, but she was going to get herself badly hurt, or worse, if she didn’t pack it in, “Look at him! Did you see him smile at her? He’s encouraging her to fight. He’s pushing her to do something stupid!”

“No!” Shawn told him angrily. Roman was reading everything wrong. “No, Roman. Yer gettin’ it all wrong. What John’s doin’… he’s makin’ her stronger, and if’n you don’t see that, then ye don’t deserve her anyway.”  He shook his head, “Marlena fightin’… well, ye see, she’s showin’ John she ain’t weak. He’ll take strength from that. So should you.”

Roman stopped fighting against Shane’s stalling hand, and stared at his father in disbelief.  For a moment, he wondered if he was the one who was wrong here. Was he really that far off the mark? So far that he couldn’t recognize what Shawn and Shane seemed to see so clearly?

Softly, in the calmest tone he could, Shane said, “Roman, you have to understand. Marlena became a different woman in those first two years you were gone. You have got to understand that. She is a different woman.”

He turned back and stared at his wife. She hadn’t even acknowledged him since he’d arrived. Not really. Stefano had stolen her from him by imprisoning him for seven years. John had stolen her from him by taking over his life. And Marlena… Marlena… She had been his once… and when he came back… she had been his again. Hadn’t she?  Hadn’t she?  

Suddenly he felt horribly lost, horribly uncertain. Had she ever really been his?  Had he ever really known her?  Roman shook his head, trying to shake these unsettling thoughts out of his muddled mind.  No.  No!  She was his wife.  She belonged to him.  He needed to get her back. He needed to get her back, and show her that their love still existed. They needed to get back what they’d had ten years before. He knew, if he could do that then everything would be the way it was supposed to be. 

Lost deep inside his own head, his own irrationality, he looked over to where Bo stood with his traitorous older brother; he saw Bo examining John’s weapon, and he heard Stefano’s deep, taunting voice telling Bo to be sure he checked it thoroughly. Watching his little brother take that treacherous bastard’s side he became resolute. He would get his wife back, and if he had to kill John to do it, he would. Once John was out of the picture, he would remind Marlena of their love. They only needed time. Just time. Finally jerking free of Shane’s hand, Roman stalked over to where Bo stood, next to the tree stump where Brandon had placed the open pistol case.. 

Shane looked at Shawn. “I’m nervous. Those pistols only hold one shot each, and Roman is entirely unpredictable.”

“John promised not to kill him… but I wouldn’t put it past him to maim him,” Shawn said softly. He studied the line of Roman’s shoulders, and he saw the tension in his face as he looked down at the case which now only held a single antique pistol.  “If’n Roman tries to kill him, John won’t have a choice but to shoot him.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Shane turned, and walked toward Roman and the gun that could spell tragedy, leaving Shawn standing alone to watch helplessly as Stefano tried to orchestrate the deaths of his sons.

Bo wrapped his fingers around the stock of his chosen pistol, and walked back to where John was standing, when he heard Stefano say to Roman, “Would you like to speak with your wife while Agent Donovan examines your weapon?”  

Bo stared at the gun in his hand. He could shoot Stefano right then, and be done with the whole fiasco. It was so tempting, but the problem was that the weapon he currently held was notorious for being incredibly difficult to aim, and shoot accurately. Stefano knew what he was doing in his selection of these particular weapons. They were as likely to kill the shooter as his target. 

At Stefano’s words, everyone stopped what they were doing. Despite Stefano ordering Brandon to bring Marlena to him, she had dug in hard, refusing to be bowed, to be Stefano’s puppet. She was damned if she would stand anywhere near him if she could help it. Brandon allowed Marlena to push his hand away from her mouth, and she shook her head trying to get her hair out of her eyes. She glared furiously at Stefano, and she hissed, “Fuck you, you evil bastard. I don’t need your favors.”

“See, Roman,” Stefano said with yet another deliberately careless wave of his hand.  He should have been amused by her pointless resistance, but it had a haunting flavor of Seraphina’s refusal to respect his power over her, and so rather than be impressed, he was indignant and angry.  “Marlena has become quite argumentative, and belligerent over her time away from you.”

She laughed in Stefano’s face, the sound tinged with a slight edge of hysteria. “We both know that this isn’t new behavior, Stefano. You must remember that you weren’t laughing when I shot you.” Somewhere during the past ten minutes, she had realized that Stefano’s careless laughs, and the nonchalant waves of his hand were a cover. As arrogant and narcissistic as Stefano was, his behavior was a cover for deeper ingrained insecurities. So she decided to push at that insecurity, “That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? Those deep rooted insecurities you have inside you? The ones with branches that dug deep into your soul as a child, and never let you go.”  She held his black eyes with her own, knowing that he would feel like she was reaching deep inside him to pull out the threads of the tapestry that would reveal the truths he couldn’t even admit to himself.  “Stefano, you are a sad, pathetic little man.  This isn’t about revenge on Shawn, this is about you somehow wanting to convince yourself that you were enough. But you weren’t. You weren’t. You’re trying to reassert dominance and control… but you will never have that. You’ll never have control over John and you’ll never control me. So fuck you.”

As her words struck him like sledgehammers, he stared at her, refusing to acknowledge what she was saying. Blinding rage sat just behind the veil in his eyes, and his mouth twitched into a sneer as he fought an internal battle for his own self-control. He could imagine himself strangling her as she stared up at him with those wide, beautiful eyes as life slowly bled from her body. For a moment, he was so tempted. But then he caught himself, pulling himself back from the brink of losing control.  

Careful to keep his eyes blank, and his face emotionless, he said almost tonelessly, “That was well said, Marlena. That day in the opera house, you almost ended me. We might also dig into your motives if we had time. You were full of rage when you followed me that night. And I will admit, had it not been for Nurse Honeycutt, I dare say you likely would have taken my life. Quite unexpected, to be sure.”

“You should have died. I hate you,” Marlena told him, her voice laced with venom. He hadn’t reacted, but she knew her words had hit their mark.  She had seen the flicker in his eyes, and the curl of his lip as he stared at her with seemingly impassive detachment. She glanced over at John, seeing the determination in his eyes. “Maybe you’ll die today.”

“Ah, but I did not die, and I will not die,” he told her with a humorless laugh. “Because the Phoenix always rises.”

Roman stared at his wife as if he didn’t even know her. Who was this furious, angry, fierce woman in front of him? She was fiery in her defiance, utterly gorgeous and intimidating in equal measures. She certainly wasn’t the woman he’d married more than ten years ago. That Marlena had been afraid, and meek. She’d needed his guidance and protection, and he’d been her everything. 

He turned to look at John, standing approximately twenty feet away. John had changed her. John had made her angry and vitriolic. John had turned her into a fighter. He’d turned her into someone Roman could barely recognize, and who he wasn’t even sure he liked. She wasn’t his Marlena, she was a stranger to him. Staring at John with open hostility, he growled at him, “You did this.” 

It didn’t matter to Roman that blaming John for everything didn’t even make sense. Blaming John was easier than blaming himself, or Marlena, or his father. Blaming John was easier than acknowledging that in his absence his wife had found herself. She had grown, and blossomed. She was no longer in need of the same type of protection he’d provided for her years earlier. She was independent and strong. Those were things that even when confronted with, Roman continued to deny.

Without anger, or malice, John replied, “You’re ignorant, Roman. You have no idea what Marlena has been through these last seven months. Hell, you don’t even want to know what she went through when Stefano had you imprisoned, and because of that you don’t know her. You never asked her about any of it. Anything that happened when she thought you were dead. You were only ever interested in what happened to you, what you think you lost. You had all that time with her after you came back, and you wasted it. You never even tried to learn who she was.”

“You fucking stole everything from me!” Roman roared, the overwhelming hatred he felt for John blinding him to everything around him but the pinpoint of rage centered on the man who he felt had destroyed his life. He felt Shane’s hand come to rest on his arm, silently asking him to calm down, but he ignored it. “Seven fucking years he had me in some hellhole in the G-d damned jungle, and all I did was dream of my wife, my kids, and my family!”

“That wasn’t my fault,” John told him, a smattering of anger filtering into his words.  Roman was a damned fool.  Even now, he couldn’t see that he had been his own biggest enemy.  His resentment and his victimhood obliterating any ownership of his own failings.  “And what did all of that wishing get you? Did you come home to Salem, and spend time with your family? Did you learn about them, and love them? Or did you work all of the time, and ignore them? Did you spend all of that time feeling sorry for yourself? At least when I thought I was you, I damn well loved them all. I cherished them. And I gave them up… for what? So you could resent them for moving on without you? So you could neglect them, and take them for granted? I am just as much a pawn in Stefano’s game as you are.”

“Were,” Roman practically spit  his words. He didn’t need John Black giving him some sanctimonious speech about how he’d neglected his family. They had failed him. They had all failed him. “Were. I am no longer anyone’s pawn. Certainly not Stefano’s.”

Stefano started laughing. He really was amused now. Roman Brady had not changed one iota. All that time he was held prisoner had only served to enhance and exaggerate his blustering, egotistical preoccupation with his own existence, “Ah, Roman, Roman, Roman… you have always delighted me with your self righteous anger. This is my game… and you are all my pawns.” Glancing around, his eyes shining with a mixture of glee and dark malevolence, Stefano ordered Mason, “Release John. Bo Brady will be responsible for him now. Check the weapons one last time, and ensure that they are each loaded.”

Mason let go of John, and as he was moving away, almost a whisper on the breeze, John heard him say, “Biadu quie ischeddat in palas anzenas.” For a fraction of a second, his eyes got slightly bigger, but he immediately averted them, and found Marlena watching him. He schooled his features.

Bo leaned in, “What did he just say to you?”

“Wise men learn by other men’s mistakes, fools by their own,” John whispered. It was an old Sardinian proverb. Luca Flores had said the very same many times to a young Giovanni, and Mason had said it to him as a way of reminding him that they were on the same side. Glancing quickly towards where Mason had taken Roman’s weapon from Shane and was checking it, John said softly, “He’s with us.”

Bo was wary, not certain whether he could trust a man who had worked for Stefano as a mercenary for so long. “You’re sure?”

“I’m absolutely sure,” John replied, his voice fully confident. His eyes caught Marlena’s again, and he mouthed to her, “I love you.” They would make it out of this. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he was certain.

At the same time, Bo caught Shane’s glance and gave him one, short almost imperceptible nod, and a glance towards Mason. It was all done so quickly, that had Marlena not been looking for it, she would have missed it completely. Stefano was so self-satisfied, and so conceited watching the proceedings that he’d, yet again, missed their silent communication completely. For Stefano, Bo and Shane were not a concern, they had been checked for weapons by his men before they had entered the arena, and they were not about to put the lives of their family at stake. And he had no reason to doubt Mason’s loyalty. 

Mason handed the gun to Roman despite a thousand misgivings. He was so unused to these emotions coursing through him he barely knew what to do with them. He only knew that Roman Brady was a loose cannon, and he hoped that John was similarly aware of that fact.

“Good, good!” Stefano’s self-satisfied voice cut through the group again, slicing through the tension and anxiety that wove them all together. “Now, John and Roman. Stand back to back.  As I count, you will walk away from each other until I tell you to stop.”

“And if I refuse?” John demanded, his eyes cutting from Stefano on his left to where Brandon held Marlena on his right, her golden hair glistening in the morning sunlight, her skin pale and gleaming.

“Then Marlena dies, and your child with her,” Stefano shrugged nonchalantly, a smug grin curling his reddened lips.

 “John!” Marlena’s eyes filled with tears as she watched his shoulders sag, and he stepped forward to where Roman stood, his brown eyes narrowed as he glared at the taller man.

“It’s okay, baby,” John tried to soothe and reassure her with a softness in his voice.  “Remember my promise to you.  I haven’t forgotten.  It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

“I love you,” she sobbed, the words barely audible through the strangled tears in her throat.

“So touching, don’t you think, Captain Brady?” Stefano taunted Roman, who’s nostrils flared in barely concealed ire. “The love your beautiful wife has for your bastard brother.”

“Just get on with it,” Roman muttered, his voice strangely vicious, even to his own ears.  In a few minutes, all this was going to be over. John would be dead, and he could take his wife home and make everything right again.

He sneered at John, and then turned his back on him, hefting the pistol in his left hand, feeling the weight of it, the deadly coolness under his fingers.  

John took his own pistol from Bo and took a deep breath.

“One!” Stefano called out gleefully.  “Two! Three!”

The two men paced in time with Stefano’s count, moving away from each other as Bo and Shane stepped back, watching breathlessly. Roman ignored his father’s horrified expression as he mentally counted along with Stefano. He ignored the way Shawn’s mouth moved in silent supplication, whether to G-d, or to the dead Seraphina to protect their son. 

Marlena watched in frozen terror, and she tried to take a breath, as she struggled in Brandon’s arms again, the gun menacingly close to her stomach where she cradled John’s child inside her. “I can’t breathe! Could you loosen up your arm please?”

“Five! Stop! Brandon!” Stefano’s voice breached the tense silence, and both Roman and John halted temporarily, John looking desperately at Marlena, Roman staring at the sky.  “I told you to bring Marlena here. I want her by my side as the spectacle unfolds.”

Marlena suddenly felt lightheaded as she was lifted from her feet, and carried over to where Stefano stood in the shade of the huge old oak tree. Besides the abject panic that had flooded her, Brandon was squeezing her ribcage tightly, using the vice grip of his arms to hoist her weight, and she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Once her feet were back on the ground, she swayed in place, as Brandon stared between her and Stefano trying to gauge whether she would collapse. 

Momentarily distracted from his revenge tableau, Stefano glanced over at her. His eyes studied Marlena’s pale face with a look of irritation, while simultaneously John cried out her name, frightened for her and frightened for the child that she carried. 

That was when Roman finally snapped, and decided it was time to put an end to it all. 

A rage so immense, and so all consuming that he couldn’t see past it rose up inside him as John yelled in their direction, “Marlena!” Roman’s fury grew even more violent, when John screamed at Stefano, “Can’t you see she’s not well? Look at her!”

Unable to stand it any longer, all rational thought abandoned Roman. If John were gone, everything would change. It was all he could think about in that one moment. John was the cuckoo, the interloper. John had taken his name, his family, his father, his children, his job, his wife. John had taken his life, and he damn well wanted it back.

 If John were gone. Everything would change. John. John. Fucking, John! Gone.  Obliterated. As though he had never even been.

All this flashed through his mind in an instant. It wasn’t even as though he actively thought about any of it. It just filled him like a mushroom cloud. The hatred, the rage, the loss, the need for revenge. He had been passive for too long. He had let this happen, let John slither his way back into his family, let him take Marlena. Roman had become an outcast in his own life, and he had let it happen. He was a character in the background of his own story.

But no longer.

Almost without any thought, he spun around, raised his pistol, and took aim at his brother’s chest. It didn’t matter that Marlena might never forgive him. It didn’t matter that his family would never look at him the same. He didn’t think about any of that. It didn’t even occur to him that his own children might hate him. Roman was so caught up in his own frenzy that everything else was forgotten. 

It all happened so quickly. John was still watching Marlena as she swayed, but he saw from the corner of his eye as Roman raised his weapon. It was unfair, and it was cowardly, but Roman planned to shoot him. Roman planned to kill him. There was no choice to make, no way to avoid the violence that Stefano had intended. Not if he wanted to live.

In almost the same instant as Roman took aim, John raised his own pistol, and pivoted quickly on his heel.

Marlena screamed, watching helplessly as Roman recklessly fired his weapon without any regard to his own safety, or anyone else’s. Simultaneously, John fired, catching Roman in the thigh. Roman’s shot had been close enough that John heard the whizz of the bullet as it grazed his shoulder, leaving a burning, stinging pain in its wake.

A moment later, Brandon released Marlena, pushing her to the ground, while pulling his weapon from the waistband of his jeans. He barely had time to aim at John, before another gunshot cut through the chaos, and his body fell to the ground next to where Marlena had pushed herself into a sitting position beside the oak tree which presided over the dew-sodden meadow. Marlena stared at him in panic, watching the blood drain from his head into the thick grass even as the light faded from his dark brown eyes. In panic, she looked up, her eyes searching frantically for John, and found herself frozen, staring at him with wide, haunted eyes as he took several steps toward her.

Stefano watched his whole plan crumble in the span of a few seconds. Furiously, he scrambled for Brandon’s gun, laying in the wet turf near the fallen man’s hand. He stood up quickly, reaching for Marlena’s arm. She was struck with another wave of dizziness as Stefano jerked her to her feet, roughly pushing the barrel of the gun into her temple. 

John stopped moving, staring at Stefano with a mixture of rage and horror. His mind was whirling. He couldn’t lose Marlena. He could not lose her. His eyes darted around trying to think of what he could do. From the look in Stefano’s eyes, he had no doubt that he would kill her. 

“Stefano!” John cried, taking a step towards them. Something changed in the other man’s eyes. His self-satisfied arrogance had disappeared. Instead he looked enraged and frenzied.  He took on the look of an animal cornered. And John knew he wouldn’t hesitate to kill Marlena.  John roared fearfully, “Don’t hurt her! Don’t! She has nothing to do with this!”

Stefano raged, “She has everything to do with this! She carries your child! Seraphina’s grandson!” Glancing over at Shawn, he jerked Marlena’s body closer to his, wrapping one forearm tightly around her throat, and pressing the gun more firmly against her skull. He spat out his next words, slaver flying from his pale lips as he pushed the gun so hard against Marlena’s skin that it was white. “I will not allow it! You took everything from me! My wife, my child.  This is my revenge on you Shawn Brady. I will take the woman your bastard son loves. I will take your bastard grandchild! The sins of the fathe-”

In the next instant a shot rang out, exploding with sound across the empty field, and Stefano fell to the ground dead. A shot through the forehead. The perfect shot. A shot that only could have been done by one man. With a shocked, open mouth, John turned to see Mason standing in silence, his gun still smoking as he slowly lowered it to the ground.

Mason wasn’t one to show his emotion. Most of the time he lacked it completely. As he lowered his weapon, he was caught off guard by the uncontrollable tremble in his hand. 

No one saw Celeste Perrault standing off in the shadows with a smile across her face. She was dying, but she had lived long enough to see Stefano DiMera’s demise. Her daughter would be safe, and ultimately that was all that mattered. 

Chapter 85

Palermo, Italy

John held Marlena’s hand as they walked through the front door of his home in Palermo. He wasn’t surprised to see the home bare of Rebecca’s things, or the large envelope waiting on the entrance table. He knew what it contained. His divorce papers. He deserved that. Stefano had told him at the ill-fated dinner at Paradise House that his wife had divorced him. He glanced at Marlena, and said softly, “I called ahead, and had some clothes delivered for you, and your doctor’s appointment is scheduled for later this afternoon… are you tired?”

“Your home is beautiful,” she whispered. She remembered John telling her bought it for the large ficus tree in the backyard, because it reminded him of her, but it was a beautiful home. It had vaulted ceilings and wide, tall windows which allowed in so much natural sunlight. “It really is.”

John watched Marlena yawn widely. Neither one of them had been getting much sleep since the ISA had descended on the crime scene in Ballynacally like a drove of flies. Stefano DiMera’s organization was dismantling from the inside almost as soon as news reached the public of what had happened. Mason had disappeared before the dust even settled, and John was almost certain he’d gone in search of Dr. Rolf. Roman was taken into custody by the ISA, and after the investigation was complete, Shane, Bo, and Shawn had returned to Salem. 

John and Marlena were not ready to go home to Salem right away. They had gone to Palermo, if only for a couple of days. After seven months of trauma neither of them were ready to face the real world yet. 

Stepping further into the home, Marlena noticed an office off to the side. Papers and maps scattered the desktop, and littered the floor. The last time John had been there was right before he’d gone looking for her. “It must have been so difficult for you,” she said, lifting a cream colored sheet of stationary off of the floor. The DiMera crest sat at the top of it, and she read, “Tout le monde est une scène, Et tous les hommes et les femmes ne sont que des joueurs; Ils ont leurs sorties et leurs entrées ; Et un homme en son temps joue plusieurs rôles…” Looking up at John her voice wavered slightly as she said, “He always did like his games…”

John reached for the paper, taking it from her hand gently, and he stepped closer to her, kissing her softly where her neck met her shoulder. He stepped around her, wrapping his large hand around her smaller one, and he brought it up to his heart. Feeling the heat of her body against his brought peace to his soul. Staring down at Marlena he whispered, “Stefano is gone.”

“He’ll never truly be gone,” she said in a voice so low he almost missed what she said. Stefano may be gone from the Earth but the trauma they had all suffered at his hands would remain with them until death. Stefano would never really be gone. He’d hurt Shawn, and Bo, and Roman. He’d hurt her and John, and he’d hurt Carrie too. Even the twins, although infants when they were kidnapped, would have been impacted by their sudden, forced removal from their mother. More firmly she said, “John… he’s in my nightmares, and sometimes I wake up, and I am consumed with fear thinking you are gone.”

“It will fade with time,” he told her as he brushed her soft blonde hair back from her face. He wasn’t sure what else he could say. Sure, it would fade with time, but Marlena was correct. Stefano would haunt them forever.

“I was thinking, after the doctor sees you, and we get a clean bill of health for you, and the baby, we can go home to Salem.” John wasn’t sure what that held for them. He would have to face Rebecca, and they still weren’t certain what was happening with Roman, but he knew that Salem was where they needed to be.

“You should call Shawn,” she told him. “You promised you would when we arrived.”

“Just give me some time to hold you, and take some deep breaths.” John rested his head on top of hers, and took in a lungful of air. Stefano’s death had done nothing to relieve the constant state of worry and anxiety they had been living with for the last seven months. 

“The anxiety… it’s not going to be gone right away,” she said. She could feel the tension in his body. She could feel it in her own. It wasn’t good for the baby, and it wouldn’t be good for the children either when they finally went home. 

“I was so scared for so long, Doc… I can’t seem to remember how to not be.”

“Time. It’s going to take time.” Marlena looked up at John, reaching for his hand, “I’m not going to go back to work right away. I want to focus on the children, the baby… you.”

They walked to the couch, and John stared at it for a moment. That was where he’d been sitting all those months ago when the first envelope from Stefano had arrived. He settled into the corner, and tugged at her hand. Marlena tumbled into his lap, wrapping her arms around John’s shoulders. Her soft sigh had her moist breath wafting over John’s neck causing him to shiver. “I’ve been thinking,” he said softly. “I want to sell EcoSystems.”

Marlena was only slightly surprised. John had martyrized Isabella in her death, and during their time with Stefano he had come to realize that everyone, even Isabella, had faults. Not that it was a reason to discard something he’d put so much work into, but she could understand why he might want to move on. “What do you want to do?”

“I think… I want to take some time off too.” John kissed her collarbone gently, running the tip of his nose up her sensitive skin behind her ear. “I want us to make a home, and focus on the children. I think… I want to get back into police work.”

“I never really thought you were the suit and tie office type, John Black.” Marlena rolled her body so that she could curl up against him, and she whispered, “We can get a house, and plant flowers. I could have a garden… and you could coach the twins’ sports.”

“All I have ever wanted was a life with you.” John tipped her chin up, so that she was staring at him with deep amber honey colored eyes, “Stefano is gone, Doc, and we are going to focus on recovering… healing ourselves, and mending relationships. Mason… he’s going to come to Salem. I know he is, as soon as he tracks down Rolf and gets that fucking microchip removed, he’s going to come find us.”

Marlena’s palm softly caressed John’s face, “And Shawn… I think you and he have a lot to talk about.”

John thought about the photos that Shawn had given him. A photo of him only hours after his birth, and the only existing photo of him wrapped in his mothers arms. “We do, but you know… it was always so natural with us. After I found out I was an Alamain, he sought me out. He found me at the gazebo down near the pier, and he told me I would always be a Brady, no matter what. At the time I felt as if the words were hollow, as if he were only trying to save me the pain… and because of that, they held no meaning. Over time, I came to understand that he meant them, and then I left Salem without a backward glance.”

“When you were gone, there would be times – family get-togethers where Shawn would tell the story of the time you saved the fish market from being robbed, or the time you and Bo almost wrecked his fishing boat when you were drunk. He never forgot you, and there were so many times when Roman was on a stake out or late at the precinct when the children would talk about you. They never felt comfortable doing it in front of Roman… he would get so agitated, but when we were alone, we remembered you and laughed over the things you used to do.”

John stared down at her in mock outrage, “You laughed at me?”

“They miss you,” she said. “You could tell by the tone of their voice the other day when you spoke to them over the telephone.”

He smiled recalling his conversation with Carrie and the twins. Closing his eyes, he thought about his brief conversation with Rebecca that day.

“I need to apologize to you in person,” he said softly. “For everything.”

Rebecca was quiet for a moment, and then she said, “You do… but I don’t hate you, John. I’ve had time to come to terms with everything. You and I, we weren’t ever going to work. As much as I wanted us to work, there was always something missing. Times when you would be so far away and so distant, and I understand now why that was.”

John whispered, “I’m sorry, Rebecca… I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and using you to try and forget Marlena is my biggest regret. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“John?” Marlena said gently. “You’re thinking about Rebecca?”

Regret laced his voice, “I hurt her so much. I genuinely care for her, and there is no excuse for what I did.”

“It wasn’t malicious. I think she knows that. I think that possibly, there is a part of her that knew you loved me the entire time, but she was willing to overlook it as long as we were separated by time and space.”

John laid his head back, and scooted further down the couch, pulling Marlena with him. He held her close, and whispered, “I just want to hold you, and breathe you in. I want to close my eyes, and not be afraid that something horrible is going to happen.”

“I am with you.” She burrowed into his arms, facing him, and slid her leg over his. “I’m so tired.”

“Go to sleep, Doc. I get the best sleep when we’re wrapped up together.” John closed his eyes, and gently said, “I love you, baby.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Derinkuyu, Cappadocia, Turkey

Mason made his way through a complex series of stone tunnels. He’d been there before. He could make his way in the dark if he had to. Rounding the corner, he came face to face with Wilhelm Rolf. He stared at Rolf with a sneer on his face. “Did you seriously think that I wouldn’t find you?”

“I–I don’t understand… I covered my tracks…” Rolf stammered in fear. The dim light in the room reflected off of the sharp angles on Mason’s face making him more intimidating. 

From his pocket Mason pulled a letter, written in the finest feminine scrawl, “You didn’t expect that Celeste would tell me everything.”

“Celeste?” Rolf was surprised. She had been Stefano’s most loyal subject. Why would she do that? “I don’t understand.”

Mason told him, “You don’t need to understand. Stefano is dead–”

“–I received word from Peter–” Rolf started to say.

“–fuck Peter.” Mason stepped closer to Rolf. “I don’t care about any of this. I don’t care about the DiMera’s. I don’t care if you are sneaking around trying to steal all of your research so you can slink off to G-d knows where. I don’t fucking care.”

Rolf found himself backed up against a steel surgical table, as he stared up at Mason, asking, “Is this about the microchip?”

“You will take it out. You will make me Luca Floris again, and I will never darken your doorstep. Do you understand?” Mason stared down at him with a look of determination. This was a risk. He could very well die. Allowing Rolf to do surgery on him required a certain amount of trust, and he didn’t have it. He had no trust for Stefano’s mad doctor, but he didn’t believe anyone else would be able to remove it.

“I–I understand,” Rolf said, tripping over his words. Could he trust Mason? Could he remove the microchip and trust that Mason wouldn’t have the ISA after him the following day?

“You don’t trust me? Then we are alike in that respect because I have no trust for you, but I do have a letter.” Mason pulled another sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to Rolf. He watched as the other man’s eyes widened as he read.

Rold glanced up at Mason, “What is this?”

“I believe it is a job offer from the ISA,” Mason said. “Your talents are being recruited. It might be the best offer you ever receive. It’s certainly a better offer than a life of living on the run. I don’t see too many evil villains looking for minions these days, and the ISA is very interested in your microchip technology.”

Rolf glanced over the offer again. It might be the only chance he had. “What must I do?”

“Remove the microchip in my neck, allow me to take it with me, and then turn yourself into Shane Donovan.” Mason laid it all out as if it were simple.

It was anything but simple. “How do I know that this is not a trick?’

Mason gave Rolf a hard stare, “You worked for that narcissistic bastard for far too long. Will you do it?”

He had the equipment, and the removal shouldn’t be complicated, since Mason held his first prototype. He briefly considered replacing Mason’s microchip with a newer model, or possibly killing him, but there was a certain draw to the ISA’s offer, and the funding her could receive could be exponential. Rolf stared into Mason’s blue eyes, and he asked, “And what do you get from this?”

“I get my son back. I get to know him… and I get to live a life for myself… whatever is left of it.” Mason was silent for a moment, before he said, “Celeste asked me for a favor before she died. I intend to follow through on it. She loved me, and maybe… had you and Stefano not fucked with my mind, I could have loved her too.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Kim and Shane Donovan Residence

There was a soft knock on the door, causing Rebecca to come out of her reverie as she sat in the window seat overlooking the garden. The room had darkened as the sun went down, but she was so lost in her thoughts she now sat in the dim light. Glancing at the door, she called softly, “Come in,” as she straightened her legs and stood up. A soft moan escaped her as she stretched her back.

Carrie opened the door slowly, and smiled as she entered the room. Glancing at the luggage on the floor, she saw that Rebecca had already packed her things. She was leaving. She was really going to do it. “You’re leaving?”

Rebecca sighed. Roman was in the custody of the ISA undergoing intensive psychotherapy as well as rehabilitation for the gunshot wound. He wouldn’t be able to help her with their son, at least not at first, and she was feeling as if she would be nothing more than an awkward hindrance once John and Marlena returned. “I think that might be best.”

“I think you’re wrong,” Carrie said, stepping closer. “I think that you haven’t had the chance to learn how this family works, but whatever you’re thinking… you’re wrong.”

Rebecca smiled, “And you know what I’m thinking?”

“I think that Sami and Eric find you endlessly entertaining, and I think… I think Grandma loves your company, and Kim and I… we like having you around. You could stay, you know.” Carrie rushed through her words, so she didn’t lose her gumption, “I know it’s going to be awkward. Dad’s your ex-husband, and he’s having a baby with Marlena, and then there’s… well, there’s the baby you’re having with Roman, but I think, after we get over the awkwardness… we could be your family.”

Rebecca sighed, “Carrie, I don’t think–”

“–I know about your family,” Carrie whispered. “I know that your parents were Holocaust survivors, and that you–you don’t have anyone else, and that baby… that’s my little brother. Sami and Eric and I… we don’t care how you came to be pregnant. We’re just excited to have a little brother. Families can be blended. Right? Stay. Stay here in Salem, and just try. Please?”

Rebecca swallowed thickly, thinking about the loneliness of her childhood. The pleading in Carrie’s voice had her second guessing herself. What Carrie was proposing, Rebecca wanted that so badly. She wanted her son to be surrounded by a large, loud, chaotic family. She wanted to give him everything she didn’t have growing up. She wanted him to have uncles, aunts, and cousins, but she kept going back to the difficulty of all of them living in the same town, and being part of the same family. Was it possible?

“You could try,” Carrie said hopefully. “You could stay for a year… see if it works. I’ll babysit, and… when Roman gets better I think he’ll be a good dad. This is his second chance.”

“He’ll be Jewish. I will raise my son Jewish. For my parents… for the family I lost, and for me,” Rebecca said softly. She’d spent too much of her life hiding a part of herself. She wouldn’t do it anymore. “I won’t compromise on that.”

“We wouldn’t expect you to, and I’ll learn about it. Sami and Eric too, so we all know.” Carrie started to feel like this might actually work. 

Rebecca stared at Carrie with tear filled eyes, and she whispered, “I’ll try. For a year. I’ll stay.”

Carrie rushed into Rebecca’s arms crying, “You won’t regret it. You won’t. We’re Brady’s, we always figure things out. We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

Chapter 86

January 1996

Palermo, Italy

Marlena woke with a gasp to find herself covered in a fine sheen of sweat. It had been unseasonably warm for the winter, and John had the windows slightly open. A soft ocean breeze came in with the moonlight streaming in a long line across the hardwood floor. Her chest was still pounding, and she laid her hand on her abdomen softly. She was safe. Their baby was safe. She sighed gently when John’s hand came to rest on her thigh, “Are you okay, Doc?”

“I dreamt that I had the baby, and Stefano… he took him from me. Ripped her straight from my arms as I screamed. I can still hear his laughter–” Marlena started to gasp for air. “I can hear his laughter as I screamed for my baby–” She tried to take in air, but it burned.  “–oh, G-d! John I think– I think I’m having a panic attack–”

“Hey, baby,” John reached for her, pulling her into his arms as he stood up from the bed. He immediately started walking towards the bedroom doorway. “Do me a favor, Doc… focus on that breathing. Remember what you taught me when we first met? Breathe in for four seconds, hold it for four seconds… then release it.” He watched her take in a short shaky breath. “Yeah, that’s good. Keep doing it.” As he spoke in a calm and gentle tone, he carried her down the stairs, and through the kitchen, sliding the glass door wide as he stepped into the cool night air. He continued to watch her with concern. “That’s it, baby, long deep breaths. Long deep breaths.”

The air smelled of oleander and salt, and Marlena closed her eyes, tucking her face into John’s neck with a shudder, as she focused on her breathing. In… hold it. Out… four seconds. Wait… four seconds. Breathe. Over and over again, she took deep breaths while John rocked her body in his arms as if she were a child. 

“I love you,” she whispered, taking deep breaths that smelled like his skin, and the grass, and the ocean. “I love you so.”

“We could stay here in Sicily longer,” he whispered against the top of her head. He wasn’t sure that Marlena was ready to go home and face what was coming. “We don’t have to go home tomorrow.”

“I miss the children,” she said with a shaky voice. “I miss the children, and we… we have to tell the family… about us, because I can’t bear to be separated from you.” The thought of sleeping apart from him while they worked things out with everyone else was absolutely terrifying for her. “I won’t be separated from you, and I won’t pretend otherwise. It would destroy me, John.” Thinking about waking up without him next to her had her body shaking again, as she drew in another shaky breath. Breathe. John had been by her side every night since he’d found her in Baliceaux. She refused to be without him.

“We could bring the children here,” he suggested gently. Bringing the children to Sicily was an option, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t have the money. He had plenty of money. 

Marlena shifted in his arms, and he set her on her feet. “I considered it, but they’ve been through too much transition already. Carrie brought them home to Salem. I can’t pull them out of school again. I spoke to Kim about therapy… for me, and… I think that will help.”

“Months of emotional, and psychological abuse have taken a toll on us. I don’t care what anyone else thinks, Doc… I won’t leave your side, and I need you by mine. We’re beyond worrying about hurting Rebecca’s feelings.  Or Roman’s.”

Marlena rested her body against his, swaying softly as she dug her toes into the thick grass. “How do you feel about Rebecca staying in Salem?”

“I should be asking you how you feel about it,” John replied. His fingers laced through hers as they hung near her hips, and he tipped his mouth towards her, kissing the top of her head. “Won’t it be awkward for you?”

“You would think that it would be, but oddly, I feel like it’s the right decision. I feel like, after speaking with Carrie… Rebecca needs the Brady’s to rally around her right now.” Marlena lifted her head to look at John, “We don’t know how long the ISA is planning to keep Roman.”

John brushed a tendril of hair back from her face, “You’re worried about him?”

“I am,” she said softly. “Shane couldn’t tell me very much, but they’re treating Roman for PTSD, and they’re saying he’s had a complete nervous breakdown. He’s… he’s going to be with them for quite awhile, John. They have to try, and help him unlearn all of the trauma responses he has because of what he suffered while he was with Stefano. That’s going to take time. It’s intensive cognitive processing therapy and cognitive behavioral therapy. Rebecca is going to need us – the whole family. I can’t imagine having a baby all alone. A new baby is a blessing, but she will need help. She shouldn’t feel as if she has to run off to Michigan and do it all alone.”

John started leading her towards the ficus tree, “I know you never really liked Rebecca.”

“Rebecca and I are both aware of why we never got along,” Marlena said, feeling slightly embarrassed. They had never gotten along because of John. While never saying it aloud, both women were aware that they were in a rivalry for John’s affections. Marlena recalled the line from William Congreve’s tragic play The Mourning Bride.  “Heaven has no rage, like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury, like a woman scorned.”

“Maybe when Roman comes home, he’ll be able to be what he needs to be for Rebecca and for his son. She deserves that.” They stepped into the shadows of the hanging branches, and John said softly, “I used to weave through these vines late at night thinking of you. This tree reminds me so much of the tree on the beach in Miami. The ocean too… the sound of the ocean crashing against the cliffs… and the smell of saltwater.”

“It’s peaceful,” she whispered, trailing behind him. Her fingers dragged along the hanging tendrils watching them move with her. The moonlight filtered in creating shadows interspersed with shafts of light. It was magical. “How old do you think this tree is?”

“A hundred years. Maybe more.” John turned to face her, slowly drawing the back of his fingers down her cheek. “It’s my favorite thing about the whole property. Rebecca used to complain about it. She even wanted it removed at one point. She thought it was ugly. But I didn’t. It reminded me of you. Ethereal, and yet untamed. A paradox that somehow created something beautiful.”

Marlena was stalled in her movement by the seduction of his words. She stepped closer, feeling the rounded roots of the tree beneath her bare feet, and leaning forward she brushed her lips over his in a gentle caress. Her fingers trailed over his freshly shaved jaw, “There was a time in my life when I thought I would never be happy again… and then you came for me in Baliceaux. Not to rescue me, because you knew that was impossible. You sacrificed your freedom to hold me together, to provide me with comfort and hope.” Kissing him again, she whispered across his warm lips, “And I never would have admitted it, but I needed you so much. I don’t think I would have survived it without you.”

His arm slipped around her waist, feeling her heated skin through the thin satin of her nightgown, “I used to fantasize about pushing you up against the vines in here. Our own little world in my mind. I imagined that I could taste your lips, and remember the way your body felt against mine.” It had started to rain softly, and they could hear the soft patter of raindrops against the leaves.

“John…” Marlena breathed against his moist lips. 

His fingers threaded into her hair gently, as he asked her feeling worried, “How’s your anxiety, baby? Are you feeling better?”

Marlena breathed softly, “Yes… I’m feeling better.”

His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, and he said, “Good, because I’m going to kiss you until you faint.”

Marlena glanced up, feeling the first drops of rain trickle through the branches above. One landed on her face with an icy coldness that was a contradiction to the warm air around her. John wiped it off, whispering, “We should get inside. Once it starts it doesn’t stop for hours. Winters in Sicily are rain heavy.”

She could hear the fat droplets falling in sheets around the ficus tree, but it was as if she and John were in another world. “You said you were going to kiss me, Sailor.”

John smirked, and leaned closer, allowing the length of his body to push her back against the wide trunk of the tree, “I did, didn’t I? I can’t be breaking promises?”

Her arms slid up his chest, pushing through the soft hair, and Marlena shivered as the rain made its way through the labyrinth of the branches, landing in cold splashes against her shoulders. “No. Breaking promises creates trust issues,” she mumbled against his lips with a smile. “Better kiss me… or make yourself a liar.”

John’s arm wrapped around her body so tightly, he almost lifted her to her toes, and his mouth took hers. His other hand held the back of her head firmly, and her moan of pleasure shook him as it echoed through his body. There were no words to describe how he felt when he was with her. It was a religious experience. It had never been that way with anyone in his life, and he could say that with confidence as he remembered everything. His fingers tugged at her hair, and his fingers squeezed the soft flesh of her rounded hip roughly. The rainwater hit the back of his neck in icy droplets, streaming down his bare back, and still he kissed her. 

Marlena gasped softly, “I love you… oh, G-d, how I love you!” Her palm gripped his hair, holding his mouth close to hers.

The rain started coming down harder, and Marlena’s skin started to pebble. Her satin nightgown clung to her body like a second skin, and John could feel the rasp of her nipples against his hot flesh. He needed to take her inside, but she was a sensual distraction. Her soft kitten-like mewls, and the way her fingernails scraped across his lower back. She was driving him mad. He pulled his lips from her roughly, a low growl emanating from his chest. He pulled in lungfuls of air, and rested his forehead on hers, “I have to get you inside. It’s too cold out here with the rain.”

She smiled at him, reaching for his hand. She’d never been so happy.

John turned, tugging her hand gently. He ran from under the ficus tree pulling Marlena behind him, but he turned when he felt her stop. She’d pulled her hand free from his, and stood in the middle of his lawn like a fucking goddess, her face turned up to the sky. The rain was pouring over them, and still he couldn’t help himself. Grabbing her up against him, his mouth found hers again, and his tongue swept over her swollen lips. She tasted like heaven. He cupped her face whispering, “I thought we were going inside?”

“I’m so happy,” she told him. Spinning in a circle as the rain fell in a torrent she cried out, “I’m so fucking happy!” But then she stopped, stepping so close they could feel the heat of their bodies, and she told him, “… and I’m afraid… I’m afraid something will happen and it will all just disappear.”

John tugged at the water laden satin on her nightgown, pulling it up over her hips. Lifting her, he felt the heat between her legs, as she wrapped herself around him. Her arms held herself aloft. Her cheek rested on his shoulder, and John stalked towards the open glass door of his house. Stepping over the threshold he said, “Stefano is dead. He’s dead, and I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you with my own bare hands. Do you hear me?”

Marlena clung to his slick skin, her nails scratching at his shoulders for balance as John lifted her to the kitchen island. He leaned forward, licking rainwater from her chest, and he bit at the thin flesh over her collar bone. Her head rolled back, and even with the chill in her skin, she felt herself getting hot, as if from the inside out. It was impossible to peel the satin from her, but none of it mattered, John leaned forward, latching onto her breast through the fabric, and the scorching heat of his mouth on her nipple had her crying out for more.

His tongue laved over her swollen flesh, biting and licking over the slick cloth. His hands gripped her knees pulling her thighs wide, and he shook as he pushed the waistband of his sweatpants down underneath his cock. “I need you,” he whispered. “I need to be inside you.”

Marlena brought her body to the edge of the granite countertop, and she reached for his length, rubbing the tip over her swollen sex with a sigh. “I love you,” she whispered. “I will love you forever… and I always want you.”

He kissed her again, long and slow, as Marlena guided, and tugged on him. He slid into her, with a long deep moan. It was a heavenly glide combined with a burning heat, and the simple melding of their bodies was divine. His face fell into the curve of her neck, and he pushed deeper with a grunt, “I love you, Doc… I love you.”

There were times when their joinings were frenetic, and there were times when they came together and it was slow and sensual. This joining was holy. John kissed her, and he licked over her skin. Marlena nipped at his mouth, her soft gasps branding his soul, and John continued to thrust into her, holding her body against his, as if she were a part of him. He held her so close to him that they felt as one, and then, unable to hold himself back, he lifted her from the granite, and walked with her towards the living room.

John sank into the couch with her, pushing inside even deeper. “Marlena… Marlena,” he gasped. “It’s you, baby. It has always been you.”

Her orgasm washed over her in a tide of emotions. Her muscles contracted and rippled, pulling at John’s body, and he exploded, spilling his seed inside her with a roar. He laid with her, trying to catch his breath for several moments, and then he fell to his side, pulling her body into his arms. 

“Did you feel that?” Marlena asked softly. She allowed John’s short silken strands of hair to slide through her fingers. “Did you feel that split second when you were me, and I was you? That brief moment in time when we were one?”

“I felt it,” he whispered. “I felt it.” 

They lay in silence for so long that Marlena felt herself drifting off to sleep, and then John’s whispered words, “I love you, Doc… and I know things are difficult right now. That fear you have in your chest, it won’t leave you right away.” He kissed her bare shoulder, “I will be here for all of it. I will be there in the night when you have nightmares, and I will be there for you when panic takes over. We’ll heal together, because I love you. I love you so much.”

“I trust you,” she said softly. “And without you… I’m not sure what might have happened.”

He reached back, pulling at the blanket he kept folded on the back of the couch. Spreading it over them, he tucked a pillow under their heads, and he whispered, “Go to sleep, baby. We have a long flight tomorrow.”

Marlena’s eyes fluttered drowsily, “I love you. Always… always…”

Chapter 87

Kim and Shane Donovan Residence

When John and Marlena arrived at Kim’s house they were greeted by the children, Shawn and Kim. There were tears and hugs, and cries of joy. The family had decided against a large festive affair at the pub, instead opting for Shawn and Kim at the house with the children. The rest of them would come by the following day in their own time. Marlena fell to her knees, and was immediately surrounded by the twins and Carrie. There were warm arms, and exclamations of happiness, but the most comforting was the deep breath she took, taking their scents into her lungs. She was back, and she had them with her. There was nothing better. She pulled them against her, and cried out her happiness at having them back. She thanked Carrie for taking care of the twins, and she promised the three of them that if she could help it, she would never be away from them again. 

John watched the reunion with happiness. It had been seven months of uncertainty, wondering if he would be able to keep Marlena safe, and return to her family. He felt Shawn’s hand on his shoulder, and he looked over. His father. It felt odd, but completely normal at the same time. They’d been father and son for years… until they weren’t. John wasn’t sure what to call Shawn. He’d been Pop for the longest time, but then Roman’s return had made everything angry and awkward, so he’d been Shawn. Occasionally John had mistakenly called Shawn, Pop, and he’d never been corrected, but it had always been followed by a couple seconds of silence as they’d pushed through. Now he was staring at his father, his Pop, and there was no taking that away. 

Shawn could read the vulnerability in John’s eyes, and he said, “Now there’ll be none of that. No awkwardness, ye hear me? I’m yer father, yer Pop, and ye be callin’ me nothin’ else. That fit Roman threw in Ireland, we be forgettin’ all that, understand?”

“Yeah… yeah,” John said softly. Roman had nearly lost his mind in Ireland. After the shooting of Stefano, Marlena had sprinted into John’s arms as Roman lay in the grass bleeding from a gunshot wound to his thigh. In pain, angry, and realizing the truth of what he’d lost, Roman became irate. At Clodagh’s farmhouse he had accused John of plotting with Stefano, and faking DNA tests. He had accused him of brainwashing Marlena, and stealing his wife, while trying to steal Carrie’s loyalty and the love of his children as well. And through it all, John had mostly remained silent, until Roman’s vitriol was turned on Marlena. John would defend Marlena at all costs. Finally Bo had asked Dr. Murphey if Roman could be sedated, and the ISA had taken over. It wasn’t long after that John had spoken with Bo and Shawn about taking Marlena to Sicily for a few days before returning to Salem. He felt no guilt about leaving them to handle the Roman situation. After everything he and Marlena had been through, they couldn’t handle any more of Roman. 

“Bo, Shane, and meself… we didn’t tell anyone about the baby,” Shawn told him quietly. “We figured we’d be leavin’ that bit of news to the two of ye.” He glanced over at Marlena still speaking with the children excitedly, and asked John, “How is the wee one?”

“The doctor in Sicily said the heartbeat was strong, and the bloodwork looked good.” John sighed, “I was worried about the effect of the stress that Marlena was under, and the antibiotics, as well as the sedation. We don’t know what that could do to the baby.” He was still worried about the effects. He knew enough to know that high levels of cortisol over extended periods of time was unhealthy. 

Kim had walked into their conversation just as John was answering Shawn. She was surprised, but pleasantly happy. “John? You and Marlena are having a baby?”

He turned, just realizing that she had walked up on them. Smiling slightly, he said with a chuckle, “Yeah. I wasn’t sure how I was going to break the news to you, but this will do.”

“A baby!” Kim said excitedly, not realizing how loud she’d spoken. “I’m so happy for you both.”

Marlena and the children got quiet, and Carrie looked between everyone, her eyes shining with hope, “Really? A baby?” Ever since John and Isabella’s baby had died, Carrie had wanted him to have this chance. The chance to be a father from the start. 

Standing up, Marlena placed her hand on Carrie’s arm, “I understand if you’re upset. It was a surpr–”

“–I’m not upset!” she said with a huge smile. Reaching for Marlena she said softly, “You deserve this. You and Dad… I want this for you.”

“You do?” Marlena asked. Carrie’s eye’s shone, and Marlena wrapped her arms around her, crying, “I’m so glad!”

“Yer havin’ a baby?” Sami asked. Adults were so confusing, running around making babies with the wrong people. But then she wondered if maybe they had made babies with the right people? She glanced between Marlena and John, “A baby with John?”

Feeling Sami’s uncertainty, John kneeled down, staring into her wide blue eyes. Eric came over, and waited for his answer. Finally, John said, “Your mother and I are having a baby, Peanut. How do you feel about that?”

“Are you staying? Are we going to be a family again?” she asked. Sami felt scared inside, afraid to hope that John might be willing to stay, when he’d disappeared so abruptly before. She was afraid that he might tuck her into bed one night, and then be gone forever.

“I’m staying,” he said with a choked voice, remembering what Marlena had told him about Sami’s nightmares. “I’m not ever leaving. Even if you’re angry with me, I’m staying… leaving the last time was wrong. I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have stayed, and worked things out. This time, I promise, I’m staying.”

Sami was quiet for a moment, and then she said, “It’s kinda weird. My dad is having a baby with Rebecca, and my mom is having a baby with you.”

John laughed, brushing Sami’s unruly hair out of her face, “I could see where that would be confusing.”

“Do you love Mom?” Eric asked. He watched John warily, unsure whether he could trust him to stay or not. “Cause if you love her, then that’s okay to have a baby.”

John glanced up at Marlena, and told Eric, “I love your mother more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life.”

“But you don’t remember your life,” Sami said. “I thought you had ham-nesia.”

John wanted to laugh, but he didn’t. Instead he told Sami, “I remember everything now, and I know for a fact… that I have never loved anyone the way I love Dr. Marlena Evans.” He glanced between the twins, “So, if you’ll have me… I’d like to stay, and see if we can make this family thing work.”

Sami and Eric shared a glance, and then she said, “You have to promise. A pinky promise… and those are important.”

“In Japan they used to call them yubikiri. That means finger cut-off in Japanese, and if you broke a pinky promise you got your finger cut off,” Eric told him very seriously.

They were so smart. They always had been. John smiled, and held out his pinky. Sami and Eric linked theirs around it, as he said, “I promise you both, and Carrie, and Marlena… I’m here to stay. We are going to be a family…”

John wrapped his arms around the twins, standing up with them, and Marlena stepped closer, holding Carrie’s hand. “That’s a pretty serious promise you made, Sailor.”

“I made my choice when I swam to Baliceaux, and found you,” he whispered.

Carrie stared at him in surprise, “You swam?”

“I had a boat drop me just off shore. They were afraid to go all of the way to the island. I swam in.” His eyes met Marlena’s, as he said, “There was nothing that would have kept me from finding her.”

And that was all Sami needed to hear to feel settled. John was her uncle. That much had been explained to her, but in her heart, he was, and always would be, her Daddy. He’d made a pinky promise, and he was going to stay. She laid her rounded cheek against his shoulder, and she whispered, “I missed you, Daddy. Eric did too.”

His heart melted. Daddy. She’d called him Daddy, and he felt the tears in his eyes, as he said, “And I missed you. So much.” He kissed Sami’s forehead, and then kissed Eric’s. Hearing Kim clear her throat, which was immediately followed by the twin’s matching groans of frustration, John assumed it was time for bed. 

Unwilling to let him go, Sami held onto him even tighter, and asked him softly, “Will you tuck us in?”

He set the twins on their feet, “Tell everyone goodnight, and I’ll race you up the stairs.”

It was a matter of moments before the three of them sped from the room, and Marlena found herself alone with Carrie, Kim, and Shawn. She felt more than a little awkward. Shane had briefed her and John before they left Ireland. She knew that Shawn and Kim had been privy to some very private conversations between her and John, and she knew that all of them, including Carrie, were aware of their affair before John left Salem, and the baby she’d miscarried. She wasn’t sure what to say, until Kim spoke.

“About the baby,” Kim said. “I wasn’t surprised, and I want you to know, I’m happy for you.” Thinking back over everything she’d seen and heard during their kidnapping, she wasn’t surprised at all. “You and John were in an impossible situation, and all you had was each other. You were already in love. It was inevitable that you depended on each other, and grew closer.”

“Inevitable. John and I have said that word a lot over the last seven months.” Marlena stared at her with tears in her eyes, “I’m happy about this child. I’m sorry about the hurt, and betrayal that Roman feels, but I can’t regret this baby, or John. I am so very happy. John… I have always loved him, even when I tried to make it work with Roman, and I felt so guilty. Roman had been through so much with Stefano that I gave up my needs for his. In the end I’ve hurt him even more.”

“Please don’t,” Kim told her gently. “Everything Stefano did was intended to complicate, and play with everyone’s emotions. He played games with all of you… even Rebecca who had nothing to do with any of it. Bo and I discussed it one night. We could never hold that against you.” Kim took Marlena’s hand, and led her to the couch where they both sat down. Carrie followed, sitting close to Marlena. She laid her head on her shoulder, and wrapped her arm around hers. 

Shawn sat in Shane’s favorite matching chair, and quietly watched the flames of the fire dance in the hearth. 

Kim needed Marlena to know that no one in their family would judge her or John for their love. They wouldn’t be judged for anything that had happened to them while they were Stefano’s captives. “Bo and I naturally assumed that the dynamics of your relationship would change. Stefano was intentionally pushing you towards each other, and then…  after you were attacked–”

Marlena gasped in surprise, color rising along her neck, but she didn’t move as she felt Carrie hold on to her even tighter. A silent request for her to stay, and listen. But she couldn’t look into Kim’s eyes, and she couldn’t look into Shawn’s.

Kim reached for her hand, “John was there for you. I wouldn’t expect anything less of him, but to comfort you, and love you in the best way he knew how.”

“Stefano sent a video?” Marlena asked, looking up from her hands only to stare into the fireplace. “You… you saw?”

“What I saw,” Kim said softly. “Was a woman who was hurting. A woman whose body had been brutalized… and I saw a man who loved her, and took care of her.”

Marlena finally looked up, saying quietly, “Stefano sent Anthony to rape me… John stopped him, and then Mason arrived. I remember Mason saying something in Italian, sending John out of the room. John told me later that Mason had told him to take care of me… we never saw Anthony again. I didn’t ask, but I think Mason killed him. I’m almost certain.” Marlena glanced at Shawn, and then back to Kim, “I wouldn’t have survived all of that time without John. Emotionally and physically. I would have died of loneliness or pneumonia.”

“Rebecca knew almost as soon as she arrived that John had willingly walked into a trap.” Kim thought about how quickly Roman and Rebecca had fallen into bed together, and she said, “What she and Roman did… it was because they were hurting. That’s the only reason, but I think over time they have come to a place of mutual respect, possibly even friendship.”

“Roman made love to Rebecca to hurt me, and for no other reason,” Marlena said with a heavy sigh. “He knew what Don’s affair with Liz did to me. I don’t fault him for it. He was hurt, and acting out of anger and jealousy, but I could never trust him again. John and I were unfaithful before he left for Sicily, and almost as soon as he came to me in Baliceaux I knew nothing had changed. I still loved him, even after more than two years. We… we were drawn to each other, and the desire was there, but we didn’t make love until… well, Anthony’s attack changed everything. It brought up so much from my past.”

Kim was silent for a moment, and then she said, “Because of Kellam Chandler?”

“Yes,” Marlena whispered, staring into the flames of the fireplace. “I was dying inside. The stress. The fear for my children. My worry for John, and the constant need to push him away because Stefano had camera’s everywhere. I couldn’t handle anything else. Anthony’s attack broke me.” Marlena glanced back down at her hands, saying quietly, “I begged John to make love to me that night. I begged him to put me back together.”

Shawn had sat there in silence, listening to Marlena’s whispered confession. He felt the need to reassure her, to assuage some of her guilt and embarrassment. Softly, he said, “John took care of ye. He loved ye… and none of us will be faultin’ ye fer that, Marlena. Captivity does things to the mind, and in seven months all ye had was each other. When yer that close with someone for so long, those feelings, they grow. I know that better than most.”

Marlena was quiet for a long time. Their whole situation was confusing. Stefano had done irreparable harm, and yet, without Stefano would she even have John in her life? Marlena whispered, “It feels so confusing, and convoluted. Roman got Rebecca pregnant, and she divorced John. Now I’m having John’s child–”

“–me and Caroline have got two new grandbabies on the way. I’ll not be worrying about how I got them. I be countin’ them as blessings.” Shawn stared at Marlena with a smile, “We love all of ye.”

“How is Rebecca?” Marlena asked. 

“She’s doing well,” Kim said. “The twins gave her a hard time for a few days. Sami especially, but she held her own. Rebecca is tough. I actually think that Carrie, and the twins are the reason she’s decided to stay in Salem.” Kim watched Carrie, and saw a slight smile play over her lips. “Living here together forged a bond between them that I think they would have otherwise missed out on.”

“I’m glad. I know that Rebecca doesn’t have her family anymore, and her child is a sibling to Carrie and the twins. With Roman gone for a while, she shouldn’t have to do it all on her own.” Marlena glanced towards the foyer, and then she asked softly, “Is she still staying here?”

Carrie spoke softly, “No. She moved into a small house near the lake yesterday. She thought it was time, and she was worried that being here would be awkward for everyone. Plus, with everything resolved, the danger to her and the baby is gone.” 

Marlena started to say, “I don’t want her to feel–”

“–she was right,” Carrie said, lifting her head up. “It would have been awkward, and it’s probably best if we’re all okay with that for a while.”

Marlena smiled, realizing how much Carried had matured in the last seven months. “You, Carrie, have grown into such an empathetic, and bright young woman. John told me that you kept in touch those years that he was away.”

“I couldn’t give him up,” she said quietly. “No matter how it was with Roman, or you… I couldn’t let him go. I will always think of him as my father. He was there for me during some of the hardest years of my life.”

John heard Carrie’s words as he walked into the room, “No matter what, Punkin’, I will always be your Dad. I’ll share you with Roman, but I’m done giving up the things, and the people that I love.”

Leaning over the back of the couch, he kissed Carrie’s head, and then he kissed Marlena’s. “How are you feeling, Doc?”

Glancing at Kim, Shawn, and Carrie, she said with a soft breath, “Relieved. Having family here, and having everyone as excited about this baby as we are… I didn’t know how much I needed that.” After Roman’s anger in Ireland, and the way John had swept her away so quickly, she’d been unsure. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, as she said softly, “I feel like I really needed to hear it.”

Chapter 88

Rebecca Morrison Residence

Placing the box she was unpacking to the side, Rebecca stretched her back, and started towards her front door. As her pregnancy progressed she was finding the ease of movement she used to possess was disappearing a little more every day. Carrie had said she would drop by that morning to help her with some heavier things, but Rebecca certainly wasn’t expecting to come face to face with her ex-husband as she opened the door. Pushing the loose curls that had escaped her ponytail back from her face, she stared at him for a moment, blinking her eyes as if she was imagining him, but she wasn’t. His voice still did weird things to her stomach as he said, “Hey, Rebecca.”

His mouth was cocked in that cute way he had when he half smiled, and seemed unsure of himself. Softly, she said, “John.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

A cold breeze blew up from the lake, and John shivered, asking her, “Are you going to keep me out here on the porch, or invite me in?”

“I’m not sure,” she said warily. “What type of conversation are we having?”

John smiled, still admiring her direct way of getting straight to the point, “Let’s see. I’m going to apologize for everything I’ve done wrong over the last three years, then I’m going to ask you how you’re doing , and if you need help with anything.”

She stepped back from the door, opening it wider, and watched him come inside her barely furnished, disorganized new home. “I just moved in,” she said. “I haven’t had a chance to do much organizing.”

“You’ll get it straight,” he told her. “I remember how quickly you organized the house in Palermo.”

Rebecca felt the ache of loss clench in her gut, “Will it get any easier for me to think about that time without hurting?”

“I’m sorry,” he told her, watching the pain flicker through her eyes, even though she tried to hide it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

Rebecca walked towards her kitchen, and reached into the cupboard for two glasses. “I think, remembering our life together is going to hurt for a while, but we can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Rebecca,” he said softly. “When I came to Italy… I was hurting, and using you the way I did – to get past the pain, as a way to forget Marlena, it was wrong. It was so wrong. I should have stayed in Salem, forced Doc to acknowledge what had happened between us. Anything, but I should never have used you, when I knew I wasn’t over her. It was unfair, and it was cruel, and I never considered myself to be cruel… but that’s what it was.”

“Do you regret it?” she asked, sliding him a glass of water. “Do you regret your time with me?”

“No… no, never. I regret my actions. I regret hurting you,” he said. “I don’t regret our time together. I couldn’t. You loved me. You were kind, you were sensitive, you were my best friend. I could never regret that, Rebecca.”

“We both have things to be sorry for.” She walked around the kitchen island, and went towards what looked to be a brand new sofa. She sank into it with a sigh, placing her water on the end table beside her. Rubbing her palm over her rounded abdomen, she got a small smile on her face. “I had sex with Roman because I was convinced you were already fucking Marlena.”

“I wasn’t… at least not yet,” he said softly.

“I wanted to hurt her,” she said. “I wanted to hurt her so badly… but what I got from that night, my son… I can’t regret it. This child is everything to me, and maybe when Roman comes back to Salem, maybe our son will mean something to him too.”

John heard something in her voice, and he saw the look in her eyes. “Do you care about Roman?”

“It’s funny, isn’t it? When I first came to Salem, he annoyed the shit out of me,” she laughed. “He kept calling me Becky, and I think… I think he found some kind of joy in the fact that Stefano’s clues hurt me as much as they hurt him. He’s loud, stubborn, bossy, brash, and he thinks he knows everything. I should hate him. But there have been times… when I was scared, or alone, and he– he’s been someone else. That man. That version of Roman Brady. I could love him… someday.”

John stared at her in quiet surprise. “He will be back. Shane said the ISA has their best doctors working with him.”

“I heard you shot him,” she said, staring at him intently.

John was quiet for a moment, wondering how to respond. Finally he said, “I didn’t have a choice, but I wouldn’t kill him. I wouldn’t take him from Carrie, or the twins. I wouldn’t take him from his family–”

“–they’re your family too, John.” She watched him swallow thickly, and she could tell he was getting emotional. There was a long period of silence, and then she said, “I don’t hate you, and I– I forgive you, because I know you. You are not a malicious person, and I think you did care for me. What you did was wrong, but you didn’t do it intending to hurt me. I know that.”

John knew there was one more thing he had to tell her, because she had to hear it from him, “I need to tell you–”

“–she’s pregnant, isn’t she?” Rebecca asked. She didn’t even need his answer.

“She’s due in early June,” he said.

“June.” Rebecca looked at him with a sad smile, “Exactly one year from when Stefano first took her. Ironic isn’t it?”

“I needed you to hear it from me, Rebecca. I owe you that much. I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else.”

“The newest member of the Brady clan,” she said, caressing her own abdomen, “will arrive in less than three months. I’m due on April 4th.”

“Do you have a name picked out?” John knew it was special when she smiled.

“I’m naming him after my abba and my zayda. His name will be Amos Mordechai Brady, and he will be the most darling baby boy in the world… unless of course you have a boy, then I assume it will be a competition.”

John laughed so loudly, that Rebecca gave him a wide grin. She didn’t want to live a life filled with anger and bitterness. She didn’t want to hate Marlena and despise John’s child. Carrie was right, no matter what had happened, no matter how things had fallen out, they were a family now, interconnected forever. 

“Our children will be cousins, John. I want them to be close, and have a bond. Carrie was right, it’s going to be awkward, but the Brady’s are all I have in this world besides Amos.” She struggled to sit up, and John reached for her hand, helping her to her feet. “I’m going to need all the help I can get until Roman comes home.”

“And when he does?” John asked her gently.

“We’ll see,” was all she said. “We’ll see.”

As John walked towards his Jeep twenty minutes later, he had a strong feeling that whatever Rebecca was feeling for Roman would work itself out.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Abe and Lexie Carver Residence

Luca Floris stood outside of the home of Abraham and Lexie Carver exactly as Celeste’s letter had directed him to. He pushed his hand roughly through his wavy hair. He hadn’t had hair longer than a half an inch in the past twenty five years, so the feeling was odd. The first few days after Rolf had removed his microchip had been nearly unbearable. Rolf had kept him in the tunnels for observation the whole time. He’d lamented about his inability to study John, and how excited he was to document Luca’s transformation, all the while Luca Floris and Mason merged into the man standing at Lexie Carver’s front door. He was still trying to learn who he was, but he knew it was going to happen in Salem, because he wouldn’t be separated from Giovanni again.

Lexie opened her front door to find herself staring at a man who looked remarkably like her sixteen year old daughter, Natalie. It was uncanny. So uncanny that after a few seconds she realized she was staring. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Can I help you?”

“My name is Luca Floris. I am here for a friend… a dear friend. Her name was Celeste Perrault.” He reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out an envelope. “I have a letter for you, and she said everything would be explained when you read it, but I have not opened it.”

“I don’t know anyone by that name,” Lexie said, refusing to open the door all of the way.

He shoved the letter towards her, “I promised her, Mrs. Carver. I promised her that even though I didn’t understand what she was asking of me, I would deliver this message to you.”

Lexie stared at the letter in his hand, and then she glanced back up at him, again overcome with how much he resembled Natalie. She and Abe had adopted Natalie at eighteen months old. They knew nothing about her background or her family, and that was enough for Lexie to open her door wider, and allow a strange man into her house. Abe would kill her when he found out.

Luca sighed in relief when Lexie took the envelope from his hand. He had cared for Celeste, he remembered that now. He thought that even when he was Mason, he had cared for her in some way. He had certainly been protective.

Lexie’s eyes stared at the elegant script across the page, and she started to read,

Mr. and Mrs. Carver,

My name is Celeste Perrault. If you are reading this, then it is finally safe enough to reveal myself. I left my daughter at a hospital in Aremid fifteen years ago. She had the most beautiful wavy black hair, and eyes that were so blue she could be mistaken for fae. She meant everything to me. She still does, and because of that I protected her with my life. I protected her from her father. He could never know of her existence, or he would find a way to corrupt her, just as he corrupted his other children. You having this letter in your hand, means he’s gone. It doesn’t matter how it happened, but he cannot harm her now. 

I am sure that Natalie has grown into a beautiful girl. She was kind. She was intelligent, and she was beautiful. Everything I should have been, and everything that was stolen from me by Stefano DiMera…

Lexie gasped, staring up at Luca as if she could not believe what she was reading. “You say you haven’t read this?”

“No, Mrs. Carver. It was private, and intended only for you or your husband,” Luca said softly.

“It says that Celeste is the birth mother of my daughter Natalie, and that Stefano DiMera is her father,” Lexie told him, still entranced by Luca’s eyes. She thought about her daughter’s wavy black hair, and her deep blue eyes. She would be more inclined to believe that Luca Floris was Natalie’s father than Stefano DiMera. Lexie was silent for a moment, and then she asked Luca, “You say that you were friends with Celeste?”

He wasn’t sure why she was asking him again, “Yes.”

“I don’t mean to pry, but how close were you?” she asked.

Luca had flashes of Celeste’s smile, her soft skin. He could remember the gentle cadence of her voice, and a soft smile came over his face. Just as he started to answer Lexie the front door burst open. Standing in the doorway was a sixteen year old girl with a heart shaped face, and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. If he didn’t know better he would swear on G-d and everything holy that he was staring into Seraphina’s eyes. And then it hit him. He was staring at his daughter.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Brady Pub

The first few minutes of John and Abe’s lunch felt awkward for both of them. For John it was because after Shane’s briefing in Ireland, he knew exactly how much of his personal time with Marlena over the last seven months had been sent as clues in the form of audio and video recordings. It was also because of the shame he felt over leaving Salem so suddenly, and cutting contact with everyone. Abe didn’t consider any of that. All he felt was the shame of knowing that after five years of being best friends, he had allowed Roman’s return to change everything. He had allowed Roman to plant doubt in his mind, and he had slowly put a wedge between himself and John. 

“I wanted to apologize,” Abe said. 

John was surprised, “Apologize? Abe, you helped save our lives! Where would Doc and I be right now if not for you, Bo, and Shane? The three of you did the brunt of the investigative work.” John thought about Roman. He had been involved as well, but after an intense conversation with Shawn and Kim the evening before, he knew that Roman’s part was minimal. Roman didn’t understand the clues because he didn’t know the history behind them. And then, once it was explained to him, he had a difficult time overcoming his possessive jealousy. 

“I need to apologize for the way we drifted apart after Roman came home. When you needed a friend the most, I wasn’t there. All you had was Isabella… and I feel like because of that there were decisions you made that were wrong. Marlena for one,” Abe told him. “I think if I had been more involved – given you sound counsel… maybe things would have turned out differently. I knew that Marlena loved you, and yet I did nothing about it. I should have told you…”

John stared into his mug of black coffee for a moment, finally saying, “I think, Abraham… we all could have done things differently. I’m an adult, I should have sought out Doc in Mexico, and laid my soul bare. I was scared. I was insecure… I think not knowing who I truly was, left me wondering if I was enough. Enough for Doc, and enough for the children. Then there was Isabella. I loved her, but I can see her manipulation now. The way she played off of my sadness and insecurity. I don’t hate her for it, I simply recognize it for what it was. She was scared too – afraid to lose me. Roman played a role too. Doc and I figured it out when Stefano had us.”

“I’m apologizing for my part,” Abe replied with care. “You were, and I hope you still are, one of my very best friends. I think when Roman came back we all felt duped, and Roman’s rage filled accusations were difficult to ignore.”

“I don’t blame you,” John said softly. “I don’t blame Caroline for backing me into a corner, and lying to me about a birthday party to test my memory. I don’t blame Doc, or Isabella… hell, I’ve had so much time to think over the last seven months, I don’t even blame myself. I think you and I both know where to place the blame, and he’s dead.”

“Stefano DiMera,” Abe replied. 

John nodded his head once, and took another sip of his coffee as he sat back comfortably, “How is my little G-d daughter Natalie?”

“You really should have given me better warnings about the teen years, John,” Abe said with a laugh. “She’s amazing. Tiny. Fierce. Stubborn. Loyal to a fault, and so smart! She started taking Italian classes in school, but she excelled so quickly that we had to hire a private tutor. It’s as if she’s got Italian blood.”

“Did you ever get any additional information about how she was found, or her family background?” John asked him.

“No. Nothing. Lex and I gave up, and decided none of it mattered, although over the last few months Natalie has been asking questions.” Abe sighed, saying, “The other day Lexie found her staring at herself in the mirror crying. Natalie loves us, but I think there is a part of her that will always wonder… she will always have a part of herself that feels abandoned.”

“Not knowing who you are, or where you come from, I understand that,” Jon told him. 

The server approached their booth, and said quietly, “Mr. Carver, you have a message from your wife. She says it’s an emergency, and she needs you to come home right away.”

Abe looked at John, standing up quickly. John stood up as well, dropping five dollars on the table, “I’m coming with you, Abraham.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Abe and Lexie Carver Residence

Just as Abe and John entered the house, Luca glanced over, and a wide smile came over his face, “Giovanni…”

John was in shock. He hadn’t expected to see Mason for weeks. Mason stood up from the couch, but one look in those blue eyes, and John knew. Luca was back. With a soft choke in his voice, he said, “Papi?”

Abe and Lexie stood there glancing back and forth in surprise, but it was Natalie who said, “Cosa sta succedendo? [What is going on?]”

Lexie was immediately distracted, “Natalie Grace Carver! How many times have I told you? I don’t understand Italian!”

John grinned widely, staring down at his G-d daughter, “She asked what’s going on.” He stared at a sixteen year old Natalie Carver, and smiled. Pulling her into his arms, he said, “Hey there little imp. I missed you.”

She stared up at him in awe, “Parli Italiano? [Do you speak Italian?]”

“Correntemente [Fluently],” he said. Pointing at Luca, he said, “Anche lui [So does he].”

Natalie slipped into English from excitement turning towards Luca, “Really? So I have two people I can practice conjugating verbs with?” 

Luca told her softly, “Tutta la mia vita [My whole life].”

“This is amazing! Did you hear that, Mom?” Natalie stared at her parents, and noticed their whispered conversation. She waved her hands in frustration. “Great. Great…” She looked at John, and said, “This is the part where they send me out of the room because they have to talk. I’ll just excuse myself this time. I have to get ready for fencing practice anyway.”

As she took the stairs up to her room, Luca asked quietly, “She fences?”

Abe sighed, “She begged to try it when she was ten, she’s been doing it ever since.”

Luca couldn’t help the joy he felt. Celeste’s daughter was so intelligent, and so talented. “Celeste was an excellent fencer. She had a grace that was unmatched. Stefano… he never appreciated her talents.”

Staring at the letter in his hand, and then looking over Luca, Abe asked him, “Are you absolutely certain that Stefano DiMera is Natalie’s father?”

“Celeste believed he was,” Luca said, slightly unsure.

“Papi,” John said softly. “Natalie… she looks just like my mother. She looks like Seraphina, so, I think what Abe is asking is, could she be your daughter?”

Luca’s heart swelled. He’d come to Salem to keep the connection he had to his son. His Giovanni. He had never expected for Celeste to lead him to his daughter. Maybe in death she watched over them, and he felt in his soul that this outcome would give her peace. She had been wrong about something, and Celeste was never wrong. Glancing towards the stairs that Natalie had just exited on, Luca said with a shy smile, “I believe she is.”

Chapter 89

October 20, 2000

John and Marlena Floris Residence

Blended families were becoming more and more mainstream, but as Marlena looked around her backyard, she had to smile. Hers was probably more blended than most. She stood on the veranda near the French doors, and watched Amos and her son Luca as they climbed up the ladder on the side of the walnut tree. Ever since Papi and John had built it a week earlier, Luca practically lived in that treehouse. The baby in her arms cried softly, and Marlena shifted her gently. She settled the little girl on her own rounded abdomen. She was weeks away from delivery, and remembering what it felt like with a little one made the angel in her arms good practice. It also helped that she could send her home with her own parents at the end of the party. 

Hope saw that Marlena seemed to be tiring, “Do you want me to hold Ahava for a while? I don’t mind, and Rebecca looks like she’s enjoying the break.”

Marlena laughed, glancing over to where Rebecca had collapsed into a chair, only to have her second child crawling over her like she were a set of monkey bars. “She has her hands full doesn’t she?”

“Aharon is a handful,” Hope laughed, staring at the boisterous boy. “I don’t think Roman and Rebecca had any clue what they were doing to have three kids in four years. Their house is absolute mayhem.”

Roman stood at the grill next to John, and looked over at his exhausted wife. “Hey, Becky!”

She glanced up at him with a mixture of annoyance and love, saying, “Will you please stop calling me Becky.”

Roman laughed loudly, “I don’t know, I think it’s kind of cute. Catchy you know?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes, and said, “Instead of standing there talking to John, why don’t you wrangle Aharon for a while, and give me a much deserved break.”

Crossing the wide lawn in just a few strides, Roman reached out, snatching his son up, and tossed him in the air, roaring, “The tyrannosaurus rex is going to eat you for dinner!”

In fake fear, Aharon cried out, “Oh, no!”

“You better run!” Roman growled, setting him on his little feet. He started to chase after Aharon with his blonde curls flying in the wind. “Cause I’m going to eat you!”

Hope laughed, and then said, “Since he came home he’s a different man.”

“He is,” Marlena replied softly, shifting Roman’s third child in her arms. Ahava snorted and sniffled trying to get comfortable, and Marlena said, “This one is a squirmy little thing. I think she’s going to be as active as Aharon is.”

A loud clamor came from the front of the house, and John called from the kitchen, “We’re in the back yard, Abe!”

Marlena could hear Natalie, Abe, and Lexie. She smiled when she heard Natalie speak to John in Italian as if it were a secret language. “Papi è già qui? [Is Papi here yet?]”

She glanced back, and saw John leaning over the kitchen island towards her, “Era di sopra ad aiutare Eric con alcuni compiti dell’ultimo minuto per la sua lezione di lingua italiana. [He was upstairs helping Eric with some last minute homework for his Italian language class.]”

Natalie turned to run up the back stairs, but stopped, and smiled at John saying, “Grazie! [Thank you]” A second later she was gone.

Lexie walked through the kitchen, and stared at Marlena as if Marlena should know exactly what she wanted. With a sigh Marlena handed Ahava over. Abe came out laughing, “I figured that’s what you were rushing me for Lexie. You just wanted to get your hands on the newest member of the family.”

“As soon as Marlena has those babies she’s hanging on to, I’ll be trying to get my hands on them as well.” She rubbed cheek over Ahava’s soft curly brown hair, and she said, “This will be the only child Roman ever has that looks like him.”

“Don’t say that in front of Roman,” Abe laughed.

Roman stepped onto the veranda, “Say what in front of Roman?”

Marlena smiled, “Lexie was just pointing out that your sons look like Shawn and Kayla, but little Ahava here looks like you.”

“A much prettier version of me,” Roman cooed at his daughter. He glanced around thinking about how at one point in his life he’d believed he would never be happy again. How wrong he’d been.

“Mom!” Sami cried running up from the back of the yard where she’d been reading. She pushed her blonde hair out of her face in frustration. “You have got to do something about Amos and Luca! Ever since Daddy and Papi built that treehouse!”

John came out of the kitchen, carrying a large salad bowl, “What’s the problem, Peanut?”

In her normal excitable fashion, Sami said, “The two of them are heathens! That’s what’s wrong! They are picking the walnuts off of the tree, and throwing them at me! It hurts!”

“Luca Vicente Floris!” John called, striding across the lawn. “I need you, and Amos down here subito! [right away]”

Two four year old boys scrambled down the ladder from the treehouse looking sufficiently sheepish. One of them had bright red hair and sky blue eyes, the spitting image of Shawn Brady as a child. The other had black hair and indigo eyes, his face covered in a smattering of freckles. 

Kneeling down, John said, “What did I tell you not to do, Luca?”

“Throw walnuts,” he whispered, staring at his father.

“And yet, Samantha Gene tells me that the two of you were throwing walnuts at her,” John told them sternly. He noticed that Amos was being especially silent for a child who usually talked a person’s ear off. “Do you have anything to add, Amos?”

He looked up at John, his pink face shining with exertion, “I only threw ‘bout five of ‘em, but I didn’t throw ‘em that hard.”

John couldn’t laugh. He couldn’t. Closing his eyes for a moment, he opened them, and stood up. “New rule, anyone who throws a walnut will be banned from the treehouse for three days.”

“Three days!” Luca exclaimed in outrage. “That’s not fair!”

“You know what’s not fair?” John asked his son. “Throwing walnuts at your fifteen year old sister when she’s minding her own business. Three days. Got it?”

“Got it,” Luca mumbled.

Looking at Amos, John waited. The little red haired boy looked up with a cheese eating grin, and said, “I gots it.”

John wasn’t sure which one he should be more worried about, the disgruntled one or the jovial one. Both of them were worrisome, but he allowed them to scamper off. Just as he turned around, he saw Roman.

“Was it Amos?” Roman asked, knowing that it usually was.

John smiled, “Actually, I think it was mine this time.”

More noise came from the front of John’s house, and Roman said, “I think the rest of the circus is here! You ready for this John?”

“Ready for a house full of chaos?” John asked.

“This party is for you,” Roman told him, “And you deserve it.”

Shawn Brady walked into the backyard with his loud boisterous voice, and he said, “Kimmy’s dropping the food in the kitchen, and Shane is helping Kayla and Steve with the kiddos outside. Bo is on the way, but he had to change Tommy’s clothes because he spilled somethin’ on himself before they left the house.”

Hope groaned, imagining the laundry that would likely await her when she got home that night. “And have we heard where Shawn D is?

“Right here,” her son said, sneaking up on her.

John looked around at all of the people assembled, “Where’s Carrie. We can’t do this until Carrie gets here.”

“I’m here!” she called breathlessly, waddling out the French doors with her husband behind her. “I’m here.”

Austin laughed, “She’s not moving as fast as she used to.”

“I’m pregnant!” she cried in frustration. “And I was due over a week ago. I just want this to be over.”

Rebecca stood up, gesturing towards her vacated chair, “My break is over. Carrie, come on. Take it. Have a sit down, because once that baby is born everything changes.”

Roman came up behind Rebecca, wrapping his arms around her waist, “You love every moment of the chaos in our house.”

Resting her head back on her husband’s shoulder, she laughed, “I do, but it doesn’t make me any less tired.”

John kissed Marlena on the cheek, “Where’s Papi, Eric, and Natalie? Wait! Where’s Ma?”

“I think the nerds are still upstairs,” Sami laughed. “Probably conjugating Italian verbs for fun.”

“Hey, Peanut,” John asked. “Can you go get the nerds?”

Sami ran off laughing, almost knocking Caroline off her feet. “Sorry grandma!”

Fifteen minutes later, John was surrounded by family and friends. He couldn’t think of a time when he’d ever been happier, unless he counted the day he made Marlena Evans his wife. That day would always be the best day of his life. Abe cleared his throat, and said loudly, “We all know why we’re here. To celebrate the man of the hour, Giovanni Luca Floris, but we all know him as John.”

“Daddy!” Luca screamed, bouncing from foot to foot. “Yay, Daddy!”

“Come here, little man.” John scooped his son up in his arms, and his eyes met and held for a moment with his Papi’s. He would remain in awe of how his life had turned out until the end of his days. 

“Let’s celebrate Salem’s newest Chief of Police,” Abe said. “Chief Floris!”

Marlena leaned against her husband, whispering in his ear amid the noise, “I am so proud of you.”

John stared down at her as if no one else were near them, and he said, “I owe everything to you, baby. Everything.” And it was true. The day Dr. Marlena Evans entered the hospital room where he had sat bandaged, and injured had changed his life forever. He leaned down with a smile on his face, and kissed his wife.

Marlena’s soft gasp against his lips, had him pulling back, as she said, “My water just broke.”

Suddenly the noise around them came to a screeching halt, and all they heard was Carrie’s soft cry from the chair she resided in, “This is so unfair!”

John smiled widely, “I believe that Seraphina and Molly Floris have decided that today is the day they are going to join the family!”