John slammed through the doors of the emergency room. He had heard it on the radio. A car had blownup. A policeman dead. His wife injured. Foul play suspected.

Damning himself. He was supposed to protect her and he heard it on the radio.

Damning Dimera. He had said that Roman would be out of that house within the month. He had been right.

Hell, he had known Dimera might end up killing Brady. But that the man would risk Marlena, risk his own child… Dimera was a dead man.





He swung around the corner of the small private waiting area and found himself facing the man whose death he had just promised. Without hesitation, John launched himself at Stefano, intent on choking the life from him. “You son of a bitch! What have you done to her?”

His face a blank mask, John squeezed his hands tight around the thick neck. He rammed that heavy body against the wall and held it there, muscles knotting as he sought to crush the larynx.

Faintly, he was aware of men screaming at him, of arms looping around his chest and neck. He ignored it all, none of it going to stop him in time to save Dimera. Closing his eyes, he put his entire being into killing the man before him. And he was wining. The man before him sagged, his body growing heavy in John’s hands. He maintained the grip, even as a voice began to penetrate the fog. ‘She needs you. John, she needs you...’

“John!” Mike yelled, stunned by the violence of the scene. He was watching a murder being committed right before his eyes and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do to stop it. A bodyguard and two security men were dragging at John’s arms, the bodyguard frantically pounding away with his fists. John was immobile, nothing they could do going to stop him in time.

“John! Marlena needs you. She needs you now, more than ever. Please, John. She needs you now!” Mike yelled, trying to break the man from his daze.

Abruptly, John’s face contorted, a hint of his anger twisting his features into an ugly smile. He yanked Dimera toward him, then slammed him back against the wall. When he pried his fingers from the body, it dropped to the floor in an untidy heap. The rage screamed inside his head and he turned on Mike, towering over the young doctor.

“Is she alive?”

Mike’s voice was calm, but his eyes were wary. “Yes. She is out of surgery. She’s okay. Just calm down,” he said, motioning the guards back.

Coldly, John looked down on him. “I am calm, Mike. This is what she needs and I’m going to give it to her.”

John spun away from the doctor, glaring down at Stefano who lay gasping at his feet.





“Get up, old man. Die on your feet,” he hissed. He dragged Dimera up by his collar, propping him against the wall.

“Damn you, John. I didn’t do it. Listen to...”

John’s right hand stopped whatever lameassed excuse the old man had thought would buy him his life. The blow smashed into the side of his face, knocking him once more to the floor.

Fighting for consciousness, fighting for his life, Stefano forced the words out. “I would never put her in danger. I would never put my child in danger. You know that, dammit!”

John didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to believe it. He screamed at the downed man, blocking his words, blocking his truth. “Get up! Get the fuck up!”

Dimera didn’t move, just looked up at him with painfilled eyes. John slammed his fist into the wall, felt the skin split. He did it again. Again. Again. “Get up!”

Mike moved in, wrapping his arms around John’s upper body. Not trying to force it, he slowly pulled John back from the bloodstained wall.

John stumbled, his eyes gradually regaining their focus. He stared into the pitted surface of the stark concrete wall, sinking to the floor as his knees buckled. He rested his head against the cool stone and felt the sobs well up.

“Get out. Leave us.” Dimera ordered, his voice a dry croak. “Bryce, get them out.”

As the bodyguard moved to herd them from the room, security looked over at Mike. Nodding his head, Mike motioned for them to leave. He wasn’t about to try and have John forcibly removed, it would be a bloodbath. If those two wanted to kill each other, he’d let them as long as they did it quietly.

John knelt beneath the sagging blood stains, a supplicant to some vengeful God.

“I didn’t do this.”

Long minutes passed.

“I know,” John finally whispered.

“Whoever did, they are dead.”

“I know that too.”

John walked from the room as if nothing had happened, leaving Stefano to sit and wait.

Searching the floor, he found Mike at the nurse’s station. “Mike, how is she?”





Startled, Mike looked up. Seeing who it was, he took a step back, only to be brought up short by the desk behind him. “Uh, John. Look, let’s go get you fixed up. Your hands are bleeding pretty bad there. I’ll tell you about it while I work, okay.”

“You’ll tell me about it now. How is she?”

“Let’s just go into an exam room. That blood is a health hazard. Besides, we’re still waiting for the family to get here. Come on.”

Mike made the mistake of touching him. Without so much as a change in his expression, John twisted his arm away and grabbed the back of Mike’s head, fingers weaving tightly through the blond hair. One hard shove and Mike was bent backwards across the desk. “I won’t ask you again.”

Mike fought to keep his breathing steady, tried to meet the cold blue eyes that looked down on him. Those eyes looked through him as if he didn’t exist and he knew he had no more relevance for this man than did a bug. He would tell John what he wanted to know or he would get squashed. The sense of fear that knowledge brought was like nothing he had ever experienced before.

“She’s going to be okay,” Mike stammered. “There were some first degree burns, a concussion. A few bruises from where the blast knocked her down. She’ll recover, she just needs to rest.”

“And the baby?”

Mike’s eyes darted away, his tongue licking at dry lips. “The baby died, John. The force of the fall caused a miscarriage. We weren’t able to save her. I’m sorry.”

‘I’m sorry.’ Bullshit. Mike Horton had no inkling of what true sorrow really was. John took the sorrow and crammed it away, shoving it into the corner of his mind where all of the pain went to hide. Releasing Mike, he turned and walked steadily down the hall. Stefano needed to know his daughter was no more.

John stood, watching Dimera who was watching the floor.

Sensing a presence, Stefano looked up, his eyes locking on John’s face. Words really weren’t necessary but he said them anyway. “How are they?”

“Marlena will be okay. The baby, she’s dead.”

“No.” It was an order not a request.

John grimaced, shaking his head. “I can’t fix this. I can’t...”

“No. No no no no no...” Dimera rested his head in his hands, closing his eyes and rejecting the words. His daughter wasn’t dead. He wouldn’t let her be dead.

“Stefano, I’m sorry. I am so sorry,” John said, taking a tentative step forward.

“Damn you!” Dimera exploded from the chair, crossing the room in two quick steps. His open hand lashed out, all of his hurt behind the blow that slammed against John’s face. “If you hadn’t deserted me! If I hadn’t been preoccupied! I should have had someone watching them. I should have done something. Damn you!”

John simply stood there, wishing Dimera would hit him again, beat him down until the guilt went away. Instead, the old man began to sob, his face hidden behind the hand that had delivered the blow. Not knowing what else to do, John gingerly wrapped his arms around Stefano’s broad shoulders. Holding tightly, he tried to take his share of the pain. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I fucked everything up, Stefano. I am so sorry.”

For a long moment, the two men stood there, immersed in the sense of loss. A slight sound at the door alerted John to another presence and he finally broke away. Shawn and the kids stood in the doorway, watching him with angry eyes.





“You did this? You did this to my son?” Shawn spat, his face going red.

The guilt overwhelming him, John found he could not meet the blue of Shawn’s eyes. Ignoring the question, he again looped a long arm around Dimera’s shoulders. “Stefano, we should get out of here.”

He expected no response and he received none. With a gentle prod, John led Dimera out of the room, past the accusing eyes of the family that used to be his.

She tried to open her eyes, to escape from the visions of flaming bodies. Groggy, she called his name. “John?”

“Shhh. It’s okay, Marlena. It’s going to be okay,” a deep voice soothed. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing Shawn’s worried face.

“You’re going to be okay, darlin’. You just need to rest.”





Memories came flooding back and her hand dropped instinctively to her belly. She was gone. Her baby was gone. Marlena didn’t need the touch of her hand to tell her that horrible truth. No… “My baby? My little girl?”

Shawn’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her against his chest. She could sense Eric’s touch, his fingers holding firmly to the hand across her flat stomach.

“I’m so sorry, honey.” Shawn replied, rocking her gently. “You lost the baby. There wasn’t anything anyone could do.”

The loss was immeasurable and she clung tightly to the older man. “Roman, where is he? He should be here,” she gasped out, burying her head in Shawn’s chest.

The old man’s voice broke as he tried to form an answer. “He’s gone too, Marlena. He was killed by the explosion. Don’t you remember?”

“No...” she moaned, shaking her head, trying to deny the images that threatened to intrude. Roman, smiling at her. Holding her hand. Calling to her. Roman’s smile and then the fire, blue flames searing her vision. Obliterating the smile.

She lay alone in the private room, surrounded by flowers of every type. Quiet and peaceful and smelling of lilacs it felt like a funeral home. Staring at the ceiling, she almost wished it was. The loss was all consuming. Not again. She couldn’t have lost another child. It wasn’t fair.

Her hands stroked across her stomach, an impulse she couldn’t stop. Every touch reminded her that the baby was gone. Every touch led to another touch.

“You’re going to have a beautiful baby girl. That’s nothing to cry about.”

John couldn’t have done this. He wouldn’t have done this. Not to her. Not to her child. She would not believe it. No matter what Shawn had said, she wouldn’t believe it. No matter what Shawn had said....

“Why, Shawn. Why would someone do this to him? To us?”

Rolling away from Shawn’s grasping arms, she curls herself into a ball and closes her eyes. John would never have taken her daughter. Never. She has no doubts…

A soft rap on the door drew her attention and she looked up as Shawn poked his head in. “You awake?”

“Yes. Just thinking. Come on in,” she replied, surprised when Shawn was followed into the room by a man she had never met. Dressed in a suit, Marlena thought he was the most average looking person she had ever seen. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown shoes he was completely nondescript. She wondered if she should know him, somehow certain that the average man was not one of her doctors.

“This is Director Jameson, from the ISA. He was hoping that you’d be feeling strong enough to talk with him. But if you aren’t, just say the word,” Sean said, taking up a protective stance beside her bed.

Marlena managed a small smile and nodded her head. “It’s alright, Sean. I’d rather get this over with now.”

“I appreciate this, Dr. Evans. I know how hard this must be for you. I cannot tell you how sorry I am for your loss. Roman was one of the best, and I considered him a personal friend,” the average man said, smiling an impersonal smile. Pointedly, he looked at Shawn, who refused to take the hint.

“I’m sorry, but this really needs to be a private conversation, Mr. Brady. Some of the discussion might concern classified information. I promise you, I will stop as soon as she shows any signs of tiring.”

“It will be fine, Sean. Really I want to do this,” Marlena urged, reaching over to give his hand a quick squeeze.

Sean glowered at the man at the foot of the bed but didn’t argue. As he closed the door behind him, Jameson gave her a quick nod of appreciation. “Are you sure you are up to this, Dr. Evans? I can put it off if you aren’t.”

“No, it’s all right. It’s actually good to have something else to focus on. Now, what is it that you think I can help you with?”

“We think that the bomb that… We think the bombing was done by a professional. I want to nail the man who did it. Is there anything, anything at all, that you can tell me that might help the investigation?”

“Your father-in-law seems to think a man by the name of John Black was responsible,” Jameson prodded.

“You’re going to have a beautiful baby girl. That’s nothing to cry about.”

“No. John would never do anything to hurt me. Never,” she replied, her arms wrapping protectively around her.

“Dr. Evans, I’m aware of the the history. Roman informed me. Are you really certain you know what John Black is capable of?” Jameson’s head tilted to the side, his brown eyes never blinking as they studied her.

“It had to have been somebody else maybe Stefano Dimera. Stefano might have had somebody do such a thing, but not John. Never.”

Jameson nodded vaguely, his gaze drifting over to the flowers covering the table at the front of the room. “If Dimera ordered the hit, then John’s the one who did it. John Black is a very dangerous man a true professional. If Dimera ordered the hit, John did it.”

“You’re going to have a beautiful baby girl.”

“No.”

“Yes. Dr. Evans yes,” Jameson said, his voice forceful.

Jameson faced her, his brown eyes hard. “Roman contacted me when he returned, had me send him the dossier on John Black. The file goes back more than 20 years it’s very detailed. Black is Dimera’s number one assassin. If the Dimera cartel executed a hit, John would have known about it. Even if Dimera hadn’t wanted him to know, it would have been difficult to hide an operation of this type from his second in command. John is too good at what he does, Dr. Evans and what he does is kill people. If Dimera ordered the hit, then John’s the one who did it.”

“Then it wasn’t Dimera. Maybe it was the Brotherhood! I know Roman was meeting with you, that he was going to help you destroy the organization. The night before, he was talking with them. Arguing with them. There were threats. They must have done it. It wasn’t Stefano at all,” she said, her voice desperate. John would never have done this. Never.

“You don’t know me. You don’t want to know me.”

“You know about the Brotherhood? That is classified information.”

“I know, but… I heard him arguing on the phone. I had to know. And then I looked through the files. They’re professionals. Right? They could have set the bomb. They must have set it.”

Jameson dropped his head, no longer willing to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think so. I talked to Roman last night. He told me what was going on. That’s why I made the trip out here so quickly. We didn’t want to give them time to act. That car must have been rigged in the middle of the night, there’s no other way they could have been sure of getting away undetected. There simply was not enough time after his discussion with his contact in the Brotherhood for them to have set this up. I’m not saying they wouldn’t have done it. But in this case, they couldn’t have.”

Her hands clenched until she felt the nails digging into her skin. John wouldn’t do this. He would never do this.

“You don’t know me. You don’t want to know me.”

“I am sorry. I know about the relationship between Black and your family. I know how hard this must be for you. But in my own mind, I’m certain that he is the one responsible. Your fatherin law, your children, they all heard him admit it. I just have to figure out how to prove it in court. Is there anything you can tell me that would help?”

The words were said with such finality, and she couldn’t stop the tears that began to flow. She felt raw, exposed as if everything about her had been turned inside out. “I didn’t notice anything. I was walking him to the car. We had just made a date for dinner. I didn’t know anything was wrong until...”

“Okay… It’s okay, Dr. Evans. I don’t want to bother you. If you want to do this later?”

Jameson looked worried, standing now just to the side of her bed.

“No. I just don’t know what else I can tell you...”

“Well, did you actually see the file on the Brotherhood? Our investigators have done a thorough search. Nothing was left after the explosion. Your family allowed us to search the house and there was nothing there, either. We still want to get those men. Roman was the best chance we had.”

She could help. She could finish what Roman had started. “Yes! Yes, I saw the whole file. I didn’t read it all, but I remember the pictures. Roman had pictures of 18 men, men he said were at the core of the conspiracy. I have a good eye for faces. I would know them if I saw them again. And they were all ISA. I remember he said that. All members of the same agency he worked for.”

Marlena caught a glimpse of a toothy grin, Jameson’s excitement almost contagious. “You’re sure you can recognize them? We have files on all of our agents. If you’re sure, I will have them brought over. But, this could put you at risk. We have to keep it completely under wraps until we bring them in. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

“Oh, I’m sure. I want to do this. I’ll help you any way I can. But, are you still positive they aren’t the ones responsible for the bomb?”

“I’m sorry, but there is just no way this op. was theirs. We’re going to have to look elsewhere for the men responsible for the bombing. Now, you get some rest. I’m going to get some men over here to keep an eye on you until we can get the Brotherhood case wrapped up. When you’re ready, I’ll have some pictures sent over. Okay?”

Nodding, she allowed her eyes to fall closed. “Whenever you want. I’m ready now.”

Halfway to the door, Jameson stopped. Putting his briefcase on the table, he opened it and pulled out a thin file. “I wasn’t certain whether I should show this to you or not, Dr. Evans. But, I think you ought to know a little more about the kind of man John Black is if only for your own protection. I had the basics pulled from our files. The core of what we know about the man is here,” he said, taping the thin manilla folder he held in his hands. “Some of it’s pretty rough reading. Maybe you shouldn’t look at it now. But I’m going to leave it with you. I think you have the right to know just who it is you’ve been defending.”

Those nondescript eyes studied her as he lay the file down on the table next to the bed. “Again, the agency appreciates your help, Dr. Evans. We will get the man responsible for Roman’s death. Have no doubt of that.”

The images stalk through her mind, bloody footprints left in their wake. Images of John. His face is cold. His soul is dark.

With her own eyes, she had watched the destruction. Bodies. So many bodies. Davies, draped helplessly over the table. His face dissolving, a red mist rising, bullet after bullet impacting at high velocity. John had smiled. He had stood in the center of that destruction and he had smiled.





With her own eyes, she had seen the pictures. Bodies. So many bodies. A corporate executive who had made the fatal mistake of trying to steal the money he was laundering. Pictures of a mansion, gleaming white walls rising out of the green hills, the blue Aegean sparkling in the background. Pictures of dead guards, their weapons held uselessly in limp hands. Pictures of a bedroom, white curtains caught swaying in the breeze. White curtains, spotted with red. The bed itself shone blueblack, the drying pools of blood reflecting the light. The body, butchered, neck hacked through with brutal force. A gory signature she would see repeated over and over in picture after picture of bodies.

She flees into the refuge of sleep, and in her sleep she dreams. In her dreams, there are bodies. A flash of flame. A flash of heat. A car. And in the dark before the fire, a man. She sees his face, John’s face, as he slips into the car and sets the bomb.

“You don’t know me. You don’t want to know me.”

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