A soft knock sounded at the door and Dimera looked up from the thick sheaf of papers on his desk. “Come in.”

Carrie Brady hesitantly poked her head in. “Are you done with those calls?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, there were matters I had to attend to that couldn’t wait. Come in,” he said, gesturing to the sofa in the middle of the room. “I hope lunch was acceptable?”

“You do have an excellent cook, but I believe we would all have enjoyed it more if we had been somewhere else. A prisoner is still a prisoner, no matter the cage,” she replied.

Stefano gave a sigh and fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Don’t think of it as a prison. Think of it as ‘protective custody’.”

Shutting the door behind her, Carrie moved to the big leather couch. Curling her legs underneath her, she sat and watched Dimera come around the desk to the chair opposite her. “I don’t believe my mother and brother would agree with your terminology.”

Stefano gave a chuckle. “Probably not, but it doesn’t change the reality of the situation. They will simply have to accept it.”

“Like John accepts his position as your mercenary?” she asked archly, bringing the discussion around to the topic she wished to discuss. “You said you would tell me about John’s past. I’m calling you on that. I want to know what your hold over him is. What did you do that would make him choose you over his family?”

“Carrie,” Dimera replied, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Maybe it would be better if you discuss this with John. You may not like what you hear. It should come from him, not me.”

“I have the right to know, Stefano. You owe me this. You owe my family,” she said, her eyes holding his.

Exhaling softly, he nodded. “If you insist on hearing this, then you start. How do you think John came to work for me? Did you think I kidnaped him? Brainwashed him? Turned him into a mercenary, a criminal, against his will?”

Carrie shrugged. “Something like that. Yes.”

Dimera chuckled. “Actually, it was the other way around. I would say I have had a calming influence on John. Do you know what he was doing when he was… oh, 13,14 years old? He was holding a knife to my throat and demanding my wallet. We met when he tried to rob me, Carrie. Just a common street punk with more nerve than most.”

“No...” A sharp knock on the door interrupted her.

“Any word yet...” John was halfway into the room before he noticed her. He pulled up short, his eyes narrowing. “Carrie, what are you doing here?”

Watching from the doorway, Sami briefly considered running upstairs to get her mother. Instead, she stood rooted in place, watching as John advanced on Dimera.

“What are you two doing?” John asked, stalking over to loom above the older man.

“I asked Stefano about your past, John,” Carrie interjected, attempting to reduce the sudden tension.

John glared at Dimera, who appeared blissfully ignorant of his irritation. “And he said...?”

“He said… he said you were trying to rob him. That’s how he met you.”

“So? Is it true?” Carrie prodded, when John failed to respond.

“I don’t really think this is anything we need to get into. Let it drop.” John grudgingly answered. “Just, let it drop.”

“I have a right to know this, John. I have a right to know why you chose him over us. Now, is it true?”

His jaw clenched, his head swiveling to face her. “I did not ‘choose’ Stefano over you. And yes, it’s true.”

“Well?”

Sighing, John shook his head. Moving toward the corner of the couch, he could not resist giving Stefano’s crossed legs a kick. “Why did you have to bring this up?”

Dimera simply smirked at him, secretly amused at how the two girls had John wrapped around their fingers. The man had been a pain in his youth, it was somehow gratifying to see the girls returning the favor.

Perching on the arm of the sofa, John ignored Dimera, his attention on Carrie and Sami. “Okay. The short of it is, I met Stefano when I was around 13 years old. I snuck into the back of his limo. When he got in, I threatened him. Demanded his wallet. We eventually agreed that we might be useful to each other. I’ve worked for him ever since. End of story,” he finished, slapping his hands together. “Can we please drop this now?”

Sami arched a brow, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “That’s a real short version, Dad. Now, how about the full version? We have time. It’s not like we’re going anywhere anytime soon, is it?”

Running his hand through his hair, John rubbed at the back of his neck and wished for a cigarette. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Stefano’s poorly concealed grin. “Oh, so you think this is funny? Why don’t you fill them in. It’s not like it was one of your proudest moments either!”

“What? All I did was save a wayward youth. I’m the goodguy in this story, John,” Dimera answered, the picture of wounded innocence.

“Thank you, mother Teresa,” John muttered under his breath, staring at the floor in front of him.

“Why do you do that, John?” Carrie cut in. “Half the time, when you answer him… it’s like you’re his son or something.”

Both men snorted in laughter. When John simply continued to stare into the carpet, Stefano took it upon himself to answer.

“In a way, he is,” Dimera replied, looking over at the younger man. Perched as if for flight, John leaned against the corner of the sofa, still staring at the ground.

Carrie saw John’s neck reddened and realized that he was actually blushing at the statement.

“Sami,” Stefano called. “Come sit down. I’m going to tell you about the ‘birth’ of John Black.”

As Sami joined her sister on the couch, Stefano considered where to start. Relaxing into the chair, he stared thoughtfully into space and chose his words with care. “I was much younger back then, much more foolish. I had a very ‘hands on’ approach to business. At the time, I was in D.C., meeting with some of my numerous associates. While most of these associates were of a ‘political persuasion’, I did have occasion to go into some of the seedier areas of the city.

“One night, I was in one of these less than savory areas for a meeting. I came downstairs to find my driver lounging against the front fender of my limousine, smoking a cigarette and just generally paying no attention to what was going on around him. I was so busy debating firing the man that I wasn’t paying attention myself. As the chauffeur shut the door behind me, someone lunged out at me from the opposite seat.”

“Now, you must realize, this was more than 20 years ago. I was only in my early 30’s. I was strong and I was fast. But my opponent he moved like a snake. I had a knife under my throat before I had so much as drawn a breath. It was at that point that I realized it was just a kid. I, Stefano Dimera, had been jumped by some punk kid in the back of my own limo.” Dimera chuckled, shaking his head in chagrin.

“Needless to say, I was angry. I went to slap the little snot, and he cut me. He cut me deep. You can still see a faint scar, right here, where the shoulder meets the neck. I knew then I knew he would kill me. It was one of very few times that I have felt real fear. Then, as if to add insult to injury, the kid demanded my wallet! I really could not believe my ears. I just knew it had to be some sleek assassin. Some dead man’s son, out for vengeance. Something… significant. But no. Here I was, on the verge of death. And it was a stupid street crime. I did recognize the irony. I didn’t appreciate it, but I did recognize it!

“I think it was because I was so insulted by the thought of being robbed that I refused. He didn’t even have a gun! As I had a chance to look him over, I could tell he was young. He had that boney, coltish look boys have, like their bodies are growing too fast and they haven’t quite caught up with them. He was just a skinny kid and I wasn’t about to give him my wallet. It was a matter of principle. My confidence growing, I snapped an order, like I would to any underling. ‘Put that knife down right now, boy. You picked the wrong man tonight. Perhaps you’ve heard of me? I’m Stefano Dimera. If you want to grow to be old enough to shave, you will stop this right now.’ ,” Dimera mimicked himself in a pretentious tone. “I just knew he would obey. There was no doubt in my mind.

“He laughed at me. Right in my face, he laughed this hard ugly little laugh. And he said, even then he had a flair for words, he said, ‘I don’t care if you’re Jesus Christ on the cross. You are going to give me your wallet, or I’m going to cut your damn throat.’

“I’m not sure I have ever wanted to strangle anyone as much as I wanted to strangle him at that moment. But all I did was reach into my jacket and very slowly hand my wallet over. As he rifled through the wallet, I saw him wince. I noticed the black of the blood beneath his jacket and I knew he was hurt. It was his one mistake he should have never let me see that he was hurt.

“When he went to put the wallet in his pocket, I took my chance. Blocking his knife hand, I hit him as hard as I could right in the spot where I had glimpsed the blood. Now, you have to remember, I was just about as angry as I had ever been in my life. When I hit him, he crumpled over like I had broken every bone in his body. But he held onto that knife. He held it, and he still tried to use it.

“It was almost comical. I was slamming his hand into the roof, trying to make him drop the knife. My idiot of a driver finally heard the commotion and figured out something was wrong. When the car rolled to a stop, I literally yanked the boy out of the car. I believe that’s when he finally let go of the knife. John was on the ground by then and I probably kicked him a few times before the anger started to fade. At that point, I actually started to feel a bit guilty He was so small, just laying there on the concrete. Not to say he didn’t deserve it,” Dimera shot a look at John.

“You broke four of my ribs, Stefano.”

“And you tried to slit my throat. Anyway… I was just going to leave him there. I should have killed him after all, I was standing there bleeding from a gash in my neck. But I felt bad. So I motioned my bodyguard off and went over to retrieve my wallet. Out of nowhere, my body just exploded! Laying there all young and hurt and innocent, he had kicked me right in the groin with everything he could muster. I honestly thought he had ruptured something. By the time I could see straight, the guard had beaten the boy unconscious. It was at that point I decided he had more guts than any of the men I had working for me. I thought he might be useful. So, I had him tossed in the front seat and I took him home to the brownstone I had.

“Well, we got him up to the study. I took one look at him and called a doctor. He had an 8 inch cut in his side. It was shallow, but he would have probably bled to death in another couple of hours if I hadn’t come along. So, he’s laying on the couch and I’m watching him while I wait for the doctor. I can tell he’s conscious again, but he’s pretending to be still out. I took it as a sign that he had a good brain to go along with the guts though I still haven’t decided if I made the right call on that one,” Dimera said, shooting John another wry look.

“Anyway, we were both waiting, studying each other. I decided to let him know that he wasn’t getting away with anything. I asked him his name and the boy just ignored me. Losing what little patience I had left, I stepped over to him and informed him I believe my exact words were “I will not ask you again. I will not accept any more bullshit from you, you little punk.

“He looked me straight in the eye, and said, ‘My name is Johnny. Johnny Black’.

“Satisfied that he knew who was in charge, I relaxed. Even gave him a little smile of encouragement. ‘You impressed me out there, boy. Maybe I can help you out. How would you like a job?’

“I didn’t really know what I would do with him. I probably would have sent him to help out at some low level gambling house, kept an eye out to see how he did. If he showed promise, I could always bring him into the organization when he was older. It didn’t really matter what I found for him to do I was feeling magnanimous and thought I would do him a favor.

“He lays there for a minute, almost like he is debating the offer. I began to wonder if he had passed out again. And then he looked over at me, stared me right in the eyes, and he said, ‘You’re not getting the wallet back, old man. Don’t even think about it.’” Dimera let out a chuckle at the memory.





“The thing that really impressed me was that I could see that he meant it. That’s when I knew I had someone very special on my hands. I had him carried up to a spare bedroom and he has been at my side ever since.”

The girls were completely enthralled and Dimera was enjoying every moment of his turn at story telling. Leaning forward, he dropped his voice and asked conspiratorially, “But do you know what the really amusing part of this story is? I didn’t find this out until years later. When John broke down and told me his name after I had explained to him that I would accept no bullshit do you know where he got that name? From the bottle of whiskey sitting on the table. Johnny Walker Black label.”

Dimera’s deep laughter rolled through the room. “So there you have it, ladies. The story of how I ‘gave birth’ to John Black,” he said, leaning back in his chair and giving John a nod of recognition.

John flashed him a mock salute. “Thanks Mom,” he responded dryly.

The comment jarred Carrie out of the spell of the story. Eyes tearing, she looked to John. “That’s really what happened? How you grew up?” She rubbed angrily at her eyes with one fist, the other clenched around her stomach. “I mean, where were your parents? Your family?”

John gave a shrug, a slight smile on his face. “I didn’t have one. My parents died before I knew them. I was pretty much on my own until I met Stefano.”

“Hey,” he said gently, the look on her face reminding him how different her world was from his. “It’s okay. It was all a long time ago. At the time, I didn’t even think it was weird. I just thought my life was very… eventful.” He gave a chuckle that almost avoided being bitter.

“I understand,” Carrie replied, nodding to herself as she stood. She looked over at John, her lips tight. “I finally understand why you deserted us. I… I used to think it was because he had hurt you so badly. Maybe you were scared. Or maybe it had made you so you just couldn’t feel anything but pain, so you decided to feel nothing at all. That’s what I thought.”





She crossed her arms across her chest, protecting herself from something she hadn’t wanted to see. “I was wrong, wasn’t I? You don’t fear Stefano at all? You’re with him because ‘he’ is your family. Your ‘father’. The only one you’ve ever known. You’re with him because you want to be. I’m right, aren’t I?” she demanded.

John looked away, as again his face flushed. “Well, I’m not sure I’d put it exactly like that… But, yea. We’re tight. I’ve never been afraid of Stefano. Never will be,” he answered, oblivious to Carrie’s increasing anger.

“I’m glad you told me,” Carrie said coldly. “I’m glad I finally understand why you left us. You left us because you love him more than you loved us!” As she said the words, she could not prevent the tears. Turning angrily, she ran to the door, slamming it shut on the sound of John’s voice calling after her.

John was halfway to the door and had to pull up short as it slammed in his face. He glanced back at Sami, who still sat Indian style in the middle of the sofa.

“I need to go talk to your sister, Sami. It’s not like she thinks. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know, don’t worry about it,” Sami said, mustering up a wan smile.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay with… with all of this?”

“Yea, I’m sure. You just had a really… eventful youth.” Smiling more broadly, she added, “I’m going to have to remember this the next time you fuss at me for being five minutes late for curfew!”

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, as he walked out the door.

In the ensuing quiet, Sami turned and studied Dimera. Her tone was conversational, but her eyes voiced a threat. “You know, he really doesn’t love you more than us.”

Stefano gave her an ironic nod. “I have never claimed otherwise.”

John paused at the top of the stairs, ears straining for some sound, some hint, of Carrie’s location. He had heard her quick steps running down the stairs, but didn’t know where she would go from there. He reached the landing just as Bryce came in from the kitchen.

“Bryce! Did you see Carrie come through here?”

“Yes sir. She just took off out the porch door. I was just going to check on her.”

“I’ll handle it, Bryce. Get back to your post. Oh and Bryce?” John called, waiting until he was certain he had the young man’s full attention. “If I ever so much as hear about you even looking in the direction of one of my daughters again, I’ll have your head for a hood ornament you read me?”

Brushing by Bryce, John paused in the doorway to the deck. He could see a glimpse of her blond head, peeking up from the stairs to the yard. With slow steps, he joined her. Saying nothing, he simply eased down on the weathered wood and mirrored her contemplation of the surrounding trees.

As the minutes passed, he watched her from the corner of his eye. Her face was expressionless, no sign of tears on her cheeks. Grudgingly, she tilted her head and looked up at him. “I’m sorry, John. You had the right to make that decision. We really didn’t have any claim on you, after all. I just misunderstood why you left. I hope you can accept my apology.”

She said it like he was a stranger, some passing acquaintance from a distant, unpleasant past. “You still misunderstand,” he replied. “None of this was a matter of choice. It just is.”

“Oh, right,” she snapped, her smile bitter. “It’s never a choice when somebody leaves me, is it? I mean, my mother Anna. She didn’t have a choice. And then when the ‘real’ Roman left, and after that Marlena for four years every time, they had no choice. Every time, when I sat down and thought about it, I could say ‘Hey, they didn’t want to leave me. They had to leave me.’

“A lot of people have left me, John. A lot of the people I loved,” she continued, her voice starting to break. “But you know, the time it hurt the most that was when you left! When we came back to the hospital and you were just gone. All you left was some damn note, saying it was for the best. Dammit, you didn’t even try to stay!” she shouted at him, the tears once again beginning to fall.

As if his presence was too much to bear, she shot to her feet and began to stalk off across the meadow. For an instant, he considered just letting her leave. Maybe it would be easier if she really thought he didn’t love them. Didn’t want them. Maybe it would be better… but he could not stand to see her like this. Thinking everything had been a lie. Her whole childhood, her whole past based on smoke and mirrors. Halfway across the field he caught up with her.

“Carrie, hold it. We need to talk,” he said, grabbing her arm as she ignored him and tried to continue walking.





She swung around to face him, trying to pull her arm back. “Let go,” she hissed, giving a furious tug on the arm he held. “I do not want to talk to you. I have had enough of your lies. Your entire life with us was a lie!”

“It was not a lie, Carrie!” he said, giving her a rough shake. “I didn’t leave because I wanted to. I left in order to protect you. I couldn’t love you any more if you were my own!”

As she seemed to calm down, he let go of her wrist, holding his arms out to his sides in a gesture of surrender. “Okay? Do you understand?”

Catching her breath, she glared at him. “What I understand is that you are here with him, and we are living in Salem without you. And nobody made you do it. You chose him! After all he has done to Mom, to the family, to you! You chose him!”





He gave a sigh and dropped his head. Unable to refute her words, he tried a new tact. “You heard about my past Carrie. How I met Dimera. Did it surprise you?”

She shrugged, her hands tugging at the high grass beside her. “Maybe a little. I mean, it doesn’t really sound like you.”

“No, it doesn’t, does it? It doesn’t sound like your father at all.... You want to know why I was making a living with a knife, Carrie? It’s because I couldn’t stand the thought of going down on my knees in front of some old man for 20 bucks, and the drug dealers had just beat the shit out of me for hustling in their territory robbery was clearly my best option. And the best thing that ever happened growing up? It was when Stefano took me in. Do you know how I felt the first time he gave me somebody to kill? I was grateful! Grateful that I could pay him back for all he had done. But mostly, I was grateful because I liked it. I liked to kill. It felt good...” he trailed off, with something akin to longing. He raised his eyes, found her staring at him, shocked by the words, by the fact that he meant them.

His lips curved into a wistful smile and a sense of irony touched his words. “You don’t really think I would let someone like that anywhere near my family, do you?”

He held her eyes another second, then gave a shrug. “Think about it, Carrie. I know you want to understand, so just think about what I did. Think about why I left. You’ll see it was the best option. In the end, it was the only option.”

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