They were finally going to allow her to see Dimera. She couldn’t believe the sense of relief she felt at the thought. But after three days of isolation, relieved only by the brief glimpses of her children she was granted at mealtimes, she desperately needed contact with another human being. Dimera qualified, barely. And though she hated to admit it, he had knowledge of a side of John she had avoided seeing. He would know how John would react. He might even know the cause of this very dangerous game in which she had suddenly found herself a player.

Alamain wanted something from her. She could see it in his eyes, every day as they sat across the table from each other in the cavernous dining room. And every day, she could see the need growing stronger. He used her children against her. They were pawns that he shuffled around the board, forcing her into situations where she would have to abide his presence. The only time she was allowed to see them was when she came down to eat. Always, he would be awaiting her arrival, rising from the table to greet her with courtly grace. Each time he touched her, it was all that she could do not to let the revulsion show on her face. She would rather starve than endure his touch, but she would do anything to see her children. He was using that. She knew he was doing it. There was simply nothing she could do to resist.

The click of the lock startled her, and she rose hurriedly to her feet, trying to prevent her desperation from showing on her face. She had to see Stefano. She needed to understand what was happening to her. She needed to know so that she could plan.

Soundlessly, she followed the servant down the hallway, unable to prevent a wistful glance at the door beside her. She knew that the girls were housed there. Had watched as they were locked away each day after meals. At least they were together. Had each other to lean on. Eric was alone, locked in the room across the hall. The strain was showing on them all, but Eric most of all. She could see the tension in his face, the way his jaw clenched with barely suppressed anger. She had to get them out of this place before someone broke and Mikos’ thin veneer of civility was stripped away to reveal the monster she knew lurked beneath.

Lost in her thoughts, she was startled when the servant stopped at a door at the end of the long hallway. Pulling a heavy keyring from his waist, he unlocked the door and motioned her inside.

“Thank you, Ivan,” she said softly, watching as the man flushed at her words. He seemed extemely uncomfortable with his role as jailer and Marlena thought it wise to establish whatever connection she could with the man.

“Madam,” he replied with a nod, gesturing her into the room.

She was unsurprised to hear the click of the lock behind her. For a moment, she simply stood in the doorway, peering through the shadows that blanketed the large bedroom. A small table-lamp was the only source of light and its soft glow revealed the heavy form of Dimera stretched out beneath a thick blanket.

“Marlena. It is an even greater pleasure than usual to see you. May I say, you look as lovely as ever, even in these trying circumstances,” his deep voice intoned, black eyes shining brightly in the glow of the lamp.

“Every time I see you, it is a trying circumstance,” she replied with the ghost of smile. Her tone lacked its usual vehemence when dealing with Stefano, and she wryly thought to herself ‘Better the devil you know’.

Chuckling, Stefano turned his head to face her. “I see your present captivity has not improved your manners any,” he replied with a small smile of his own.

Gracefully, she walked to the side of the bed. White bandages wrapped his head, but his eyes seemed clear and focused and she resisted the temptation to examine the wound. “You are looking much better than the last time I saw you,” she commented.

“I feel much better, though I must admit, I remember very little of the time between the explosion and when I woke up in this well appointed cell,” he replied with a slight nod.

“Take my word for it, you didn’t miss much,” was her dry response.

“I’m rather surprised I’m here at all. I seem to distinctly recall being carried out over very rough terrain. I would have thought you would relish the opportunity to simply leave me in the woods,” he prodded, giving her a curious look.

She merely shrugged. “The decision wasn’t mine to make. John carried you out. He was rather insistent about it.”

“Of course,” Stefano said, the look of pride flashing across his face in a way that irritated her to no end. “I suppose that if it had been left to you, I would no doubt be nourishing the worms by now,” he finished with just a touch of sarcasm.

With a sigh, Marlena crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Stefano, I know that John cares for you. In some twisted way, he feels that he owes you. I won’t begrudge him that. But if it is up to me, you will never be a part of our lives in any way, shape or form.”

Again his grim chuckle floated through the air. “Well it appears that the fates disagree, Marlena. It seems that once again our paths are linked, and this time not even you can believe that I am to blame.”

She hated it when he was right, and he was right so often. With a slight shake of her head, she turned her thoughts away from her continuing battle with Dimera. In a quiet voice, she asked “What will he do?”

“Who? John?” Stefano answered, his eyes widening in surprise at the question. “Isn’t it obvious? He will find us and he will kill Mikos Alamain. In fact, I’d say it is likely that he will kill everyone even remotely associated with the man. Really, Marlena! I had thought you’d stopped deluding yourself when it came to recognizing what John is capable of!”

She closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness ran through her.

“Marlena? Marlena, are you all right?” Dimera’s voice called to her, sounding as if it came from very far away. She was aware of his hand grabbing her own, and she jerked away to stumble backward, her eyes flying open to find him staring at her.

Concerned, Stefano studied her pale face. “Marlena, do you feel well? Will you sit down? Please?” he said, gesturing to a chair set at the opposite side of the bed.

Unsteadily she walked over and allowed herself to sink down on the thickly cushioned chair. “I’m sorry,” she said distractedly. “I’m just tired. I haven’t been able to sleep much...” she trailed off.

“Marlena, you really shouldn’t concern yourself. John knows his business. He will find us and he will come,” Stefano said gently, worried by the paleness of her features.

Unexpected tears threatened, and she muttered softly, “I don’t want him to come. Something bad will happen if he does. I know it, Stefano. I can feel it in my bones,” she said, her tone becoming hard and desperate as she raised her head to fasten haunted eyes on him.

An ugly thought flashed through Dimera’s head and he asked sharply, “Alamain hasn’t done anything to you, has he? He hasn’t touched you?”

The sudden protectiveness from Stefano of all people forced a half-hearted laugh from her. “No. No, he hasn’t done anything to me, Stefano. I just.... When I look at him, I am so afraid. I’m afraid for John. Afraid for my children. Myself...” again her voice faded out, and she rubbed her hands briskly against her arms as if fighting a sudden chill.

“Marlena, you are being silly now. John is the only man on this planet who could make me back down. I am rather insulted that you don’t think him capable of handling some puffed-up royalty wannabe,” Stefano said almost haughtily, trying to prod her out of her black thoughts.

Her eyes seemed to darken and she looked directly into Dimera’s face. “I have hated you for years, Stefano. I’ve hated you and I’ve feared you, and nothing will ever change that. Nothing will ever change the evil you have done to the people I love. But Alamain.... Stefano, I look at him and I feel ‘unclean’.”

Her eyes shifted to stare down at the plush carpet beneath her. “You play games, Stefano,” she continued softly. “You play games with peoples’ lives, and I hate that. But you would never force.... I never thought you would force me to do anything. Mikos Alamain would use force, Stefano. He would enjoy it.”

He could feel the anger growing with every word she spoke. John would have to hurry or Stefano would kill the bastard himself. Trying to keep his voice calm, he said gently, “Marlena, John will be here soon. There is nothing you need to worry about. Stay away from the man and wait for John.”

Angrily, Marlena shook her head and again raised her eyes to fasten on his. “No! You don’t understand. Mikos enjoys hurting people. He gets pleasure from it. He knows John will come. He’s counting on it! When John comes, Mikos will use me against him in a way you never would. He will use me to destroy him and he will enjoy it!”

Her eyes still glistened with unshed tears, but anger warred with the fear. Anger won. “Stefano, we have to stop him. We have to stop him before John gets here.”

Once again, Stefano was reminded just how strong this woman could be when those she loved were threatened. Involuntarily, his hand moved to rub against the faded scar of a bullet wound. “What do you suggest we do?” he asked quietly.

It was a question to which she held no answers, as her frustrated sigh gave signal to. Shaking her head, she searched for a solution. “I don’t know. Have you any idea why this man is so fixated on John?” she asked, glad to be focusing on something other than the fear.

“It’s not ‘company’ business, if that’s what you mean. I’ve never even heard of this Alamain fellow. He has dropped in to chat with me during my convalescence, but he has yet to explain the point of this little exercise. However,” he continued, giving Marlena a questioning look, “I would think that you would have noted the same resemblance that I do. It is rather striking, after all.”

She hadn’t wanted to pursue this, but if Stefano saw it too, it could no longer be ignored. “They are family, aren’t they?” she said softly.

“At a guess, I would say brothers. The resemblance is quite strong,” Stefano confirmed with a nod.

“Why would he want to destroy his own brother? Stefano, it can’t be,” she whispered softly.

“Of course it can,” was the stoic response. “It’s a story as old as time.”

The black stretch limo pulled smoothly to a halt 15 feet from the edge of the cliff. The chauffeur remained at the wheel with the engine running as three bodyguards emerged to take up their stations at the front and rear fenders. From behind mirrored shades, they stared across the rocky ground separating them from the two Mercedes that faced them. In silence, the men who had hunched together smoking cigarettes spread out from the Mercedes to form a rough line 20 feet away. The first fat drops of rain fell from the overcast skies as thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. As the tension rose, fingers fumbled nervously over weapons scarcely hidden by thick overcoats. When Jensen finally crawled from the far door of the Limo, all pretense vanished and automatic weapons were raised cautiously to the ready.

Adjusting the blue silk tie at his neck, Jensen peered over the roof of the limo at the men arrayed against him. The two black Mercedes squatted aggressively, their headlights glowing dimly in the early morning mist. Seven men in dark suits faced him, weapons in hand and faces expressionless. ‘This is all just too cliche,’ he thought in annoyance, hating the necessity of being in the field. With an aggravated sigh, he reached into the backseat and pulled at the arm of the man who was the focus of all of the intrigue.

A figure stumbled into view behind the long body of the limo, and it became evident that he was bound and hooded. For a moment, he shrugged off the hands that grabbed at him. Then a fourth guard exited the backseat, and the man was dragged to the front of the car and slammed across the hood. Tiredly, the figure slumped down, the man resting his head against the warm metal. Without preamble, Jensen reached down and ripped the black hood away from the bound man’s face. Linking a hand in the long hair, he pulled John’s head back to face the men in front of the Mercedes.

“We kept our part of the bargain!” he shouted across the distance. “It’s time for you to keep yours. If you don’t want more trouble than you can handle, you will deliver Mr. Dimera to us unharmed.”

From the center of the line of men in front of the Mercedes, a tall blond man stepped forward. His short hair was almost white, and his thick body spoke of a brutal physical power. If the sneer on his face was any indication, Jensen’s threat didn’t worry him in the least. “You will get Dimera once Mr. Black there has been delivered to our employer and not before. That was the deal. Take it or leave it,” he called back in a cold voice. At his words, the men behind him raised their guns a fraction.

Trying to restrain his temper, Jensen pulled John roughly to his feet and shoved him forward. Seemingly disoriented, John stumbled to his knees. As Jensen and the bodyguard reached to pull him up, he lurched to his feet, ramming a shoulder into Jensen’s midsection. The two men slammed against the front fender in a tangle and then the bodyguard had John by his knees, bringing him to the ground.

At the first sign of struggle, the big blond man had stepped swiftly forward only to be confronted by the steady guns of Dimera’s men. He relaxed marginally once the bodyguard pulled John back into view, one thick arm wrapped tightly around the man’s neck. Jensen slowly lurched to his feet, anger plain on his face. Stepping to John, he unleashed a vicious slap that rocked the man’s head to the side. “It’s about time you got yours. I will never understand why Dimera has tolerated you all of these years, but that is at an end,” he spat out, his words carrying clearly in the still air.

Blood trickling from the side of his mouth, John turned back with an ugly grin. Taking a deep breath, he spat straight in Jensen’s face and brought his foot down hard against the bodyguard’s instep. As the hold about his neck slackened, he stepped forward to jam a knee into Jensen’s gut. With a muttered curse, Jensen crumpled and John stepped back, the light of battle in his eyes.

Sensing the loss of his quarry, the blond man stepped forward despite the machine guns still facing him. The blond moved just as Jensen’s bodyguard jabbed a fist into John’s unprotected back, sending him stumbling toward the cliff’s edge. He stepped to wrap thick arms around the still bound man and was dropped by a kick to the head, falling soundlessly to the ground.

The blond charged around the front of the limo heedless of everything but the need to take John down. John stepped forward to meet him with a grin, looking ready to take on death itself. He was going to get his chance. Helpless to prevent the disaster he could see happening, the blond could only scream out in frustration.

“Noooo...” the protest echoed over the rocky terrain as shots cracked out thinly in the air. Grim-faced, Jensen knelt, his gun aimed directly at John’s chest. Carefully, he pulled the trigger again and then again. Watched, as the impact staggered the man. Three hits, dead center. John’s body fell back, blood welling from his chest. For an instance, he glanced up, searching for Jensen’s face. His eyes were almost amused as he toppled from the 300 foot cliff.

“You stupid son of a bitch,” the blond screamed, rounding on Jensen’s crouched form. Though beside himself with anger, the fear of failure was even stronger.

Coldly, Jensen shrugged. Pulling a kerchief from his pocket, he dabbed fastidiously at the spittle on his cheek. “You wanted John Black? Well get a boat, the body has got to be down there somewhere. Now, I have had enough of your threats. I want Mr. Dimera back immediately. I was willing to give you Black because, quite-frankly, the man was more trouble than he was worth. But the Dimera cartel is done bargaining. Why don’t you tell ‘Mr. Alamain’ that we know who he is and we know where he lives. We will be coming for him if Mr. Dimera does not contact us with other instructions. That is really all I need to say to you.” Flashing a superior look, Jensen marched back to the limo. Settling back into the seat, he could not quite repress a self-satisfied grin as his men joined him.

“Sir, you almost looked like you enjoyed shooting Mr. Black.”

As the limo backed carefully away, Jensen permitted himself a small chuckle. “Who says I didn’t?”

The limousine disappeared over the hill, the blond watching it until it was out of sight. Muttering a curse in Russian, he edged to the side of the cliff and searched for any hint of a body. A broken wall of rock dropped straight down 300 feet, its base ringed by jutting boulders. The rough seas slammed against the jagged rocks, sending plumes of white spray shooting into the air. He could discern nothing in that seething mass, and the sheer height made him sway dizzily.

“We’ve got a couple of blood splatters here, sir,” a voice called out.

Shaking his head to clear it, he stalked irritably over to crouch beside the indicated area. Cautiously, he reached out a finger to dab at the already drying stains, black droplets that stood in stark contrast to the pale rocks. With a grunt of frustration he stood, wiping his fingers distastefully on his jacket. “Let’s get out of here,” he ordered gruffly as he started to the cars. He slammed the door behind him, already wondering where he could find a boat in this godforsaken place. 

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