“Marlena? Doc? Are you okay?” Roman asked, crawling to where she lay curled on the floor next to the now sealed hatch.

“Roman? Is it really you?” She looked at him as if he were a ghost, her fingers rising to brush gingerly across his cheek, the touch tentative and uncertain.

“Long time, no see,” he said with a small smile.

Her tears competed with her laughter as she pulled him to her in a tight hug. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know,” she whispered down at his bowed head.

The last of his reserves crumbled and he sagged in her arms, unable to stop the sobs. This was what he had lived for. It was the only thing he had lived for in fourteen long years. “It’s okay, Doc. It will all be okay now. I’m home.”

He would have been content to lay in her arms forever. “You haven’t changed. Not in all these years. How is that possible?” he said, his hands skimming the smooth curve of her neck.

Blood, sticky and warm on the tips of his fingers. Marlena pulled away, grabbing his hands in her own. “You’re hurt, Roman. Oh Roman, no.”

The professional in her took over, searching for some sign of the injury. “Just lie still, I need to see how bad it is. Roman, were you shot? Did you feel the impact?”

Confused, he sat up, tried to figure out what she was talking about. “Doc, I feel fine. I...” Dark crimson stained the carpet by the door, the blood still sticky. John. John had gone down on the stairs…

Trying not to let his panic show, Roman flashed a quick grin in her direction. They needed John alive. They needed a pilot. “I’m fine, Doc. Just stay here, I need to check on something.”

He saw the realization in her eyes, the fear that quickly followed it. Roman hated that she still might care.

“No, Roman. I’ll go. He might… he won’t hurt me, Roman.”

Marlena was on her feet before he could stop her, her fingers brushing absently against his shoulder as she ran to the cockpit. He watched her leave him, the jealousy spreading like a cancer. If they didn’t need a pilot… Roman’s hand tightened around the butt of John’s gun.

John leaned back in the big pilot’s chair, eyes closed against the bright sun that dazzled his eyes. Hearing footsteps, he reached for his gun, only to discover it had been lost in the conflict. He allowed himself to sink back against the seat as Marlena burst through the open passage. She was afraid. She was always afraid around him now. He wondered what she was afraid of this time.

She pulled up as she saw him staring at her with his empty eyes, a chill running down her spine. “Are you okay?” she asked stiffly.

He couldn’t help the snort of laughter. ‘Was he okay?’ Every time he looked at her, he felt another piece of himself die. It would be so much easier if she would just use a gun. Too bad he couldn’t tell her that. “I’m lovely, though I could seriously use a beer. There’s a fridge just behind the bulkhead. Stefano keeps it stocked with Redhook, a personal favorite of mine. Why don’t you make yourself useful?” He continued to stare through her, praying she would go away. Being near her was a personal agony, easily overshadowing the fire that burned in his gut. His prayer was answered as she turned away, tears in her eyes. Leave it to God to choose this prayer to hear.

Marlena barely noticed as she brushed past Roman, standing just out of sight behind her. He had listened to every word and heard the words unsaid. His eyes narrowed in anger, he stepped forward into the control center of the sleek jet.

“Nice to see you’re feeling well enough to be an absolute bastard,” he said coldly, hyper-aware of the gun in his hand.

“Fuck you too, Roman. What do you want?”

“I want a pilot who can get us home. There’s blood in the passageway and I know it’s not mine or Marlena’s.”

“Might want to clean that up for me. Dimera’s going to be pissed enough as it is- a dirty rug just might push him over the edge.” John grinned, wishing Roman would drop dead. This time, of course, God chose not to listen.

Roman simply stared down at the man in disgust. He had never seen anyone so cold. Roman briefly wondered if everything he had seen the man go through chained in the cell had driven him insane. “Look, I just need to know if you can get this plane home. That’s really all I care about. Can you do it or not?”

“I can get you home all right. I’ve already got the coordinates set for the automatic pilot. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. Oh, and I would appreciate my gun back. See you’ve got it tucked in your waistband. It was a gift, you see. Has some sentimental value.”

Roman thought he would rather stick needles in his eyes than give a weapon to the monster beside him. “Think I’ll keep it for a while. I kind of like the look of it.”

John stared through him, then shoved the steering column forward, sending the plane into a sharp dive. Quietly he said, “You can give me my gun, or we can become a very small oil slick on a very big ocean. Your call Brady.”

With absolutely no doubt that the man meant what he said, Roman handed the stylized weapon over. John hesitated for a long second before reluctantly pulling the plane out of the dive. “Get out of here, and don’t ever think of pushing me again. You should know that your very existence serves to piss me off. My preferred method for dealing with you would be to simply end that existence.”

Roman backed away from the psychopath controlling the plane and turned to find Marlena sitting dazed on the floor. “Doc, are you okay?”

“I think so, just lost my footing when the plane dropped. What happened?”

“He wanted his gun back and decided to offer me a little incentive to comply. It’s okay. If he wanted to use the gun, he would have already. He has set the course for Salem, so I think everything will be okay. Forget about him- we’re going home, Doc. Everything is going to be okay now.”

The smile she gave him was the same one in his memories, but he couldn’t help but notice how her eyes strayed toward the front of the plane.





John watched the bright lights dance from behind closed eyelids, the comforting bulk of his gun resting against his hip. Oblivion called out, and he flirted with its cold embrace. The pain was the only thing he had left to fight with, and the pain was nothing he would miss.

For how long he lay there, he had no idea. A sudden jolt of turbulence caused him to snap his eyes open, but the instruments blurred in his gaze. So tired. Too tired. With a start, he realized he was coming down. If he crashed off the drugs now, he might not wake up until it was too late. He might not wake up at all.

Fumbling in his pocket for the vial of pills, he tried to remember why it was important he stay awake. The bottle slipped from his weakening grasp and he watched stupidly as it rolled away. When he reached down, the agony ripped through him like a knife and it was all he could do to stay conscious.

“Roman? Roman, I need a hand in here.” His voice sounded weak in his ears, but he wasn’t sure he could call out again. Fortunately, Roman came in just as he was trying to gather the will to make the effort. “Need some pills, but I dropped them. I need to keep my eye on the road, so you get to find them for me.”

Roman almost turned on his heel and walked out, but something was clearly wrong with the man in the chair. John’s head lolled back, his skin deathly pale. Damn. “Why do you need pills?”

“Narcolepsy. A severe case. Just get the damn pills!” He tried to sound threatening, but knew he had failed.

Roman knelt down, not really caring why John needed the pills. If the pills would help the man land the plane, then he would get the pills. If they killed him in the process, then so much the better. Slapping the vial into John’s hand, he couldn’t avoid noticing the blood. Too much blood. The black material of the fatigues shone dully in the green light from the instrument panel, evidence enough that the man was bleeding badly. Roman leaned over to check the wound and found the 9 millimeter under his chin.

“Give me the pills and go away,” John whispered as he cocked the hammer.

Roman froze, undecided.

“Roman, what’s wrong?” Marlena called out.

For a split second, John’s finger tightened on the trigger, then she was there, her presence effectively disarming the man in the chair.

“Roman, what’s wrong,” she repeated, watching uncertainly as John let the pistol fall back to rest against his leg.

“I think you need to check him over. Make sure he’s going to be able to land this plane once we get it home.” Reluctantly, Roman let her take his place, fading into the background. He doubted she was even aware of his presence as she knelt beside John and gently pulled his hand away from the blood-soaked wound.

“You should have said something,” she muttered as she ripped open the black t-shirt, her fingers gently probing the torn flesh of his left side.

John tried not to flinch, but her touch was impossible to ignore. “There was nothing to say,” he grunted.

“We have to get him in back. I need to see what kind of damage was done,” she called over her shoulder to Roman, her attention focused on the man in the chair.

John shook his head, pushed her feebly away. “Just give me the pills, Doc. Stimulants, painkillers… keep me going. If I crash out, I might not come to. Just keep me on the meds,” he said, his voice now a whisper.

Ignoring his protests, she motioned for Roman. “Help me get him up.”

Working together, they got the now almost unconscious man to his feet and half-dragged him toward the back of the plane.

Marlena felt sick, staring down at the wounded body beneath her fingers. She had feared the damage done by the bullet, but what she’d found was much worse. Beneath his shirt, stained bandages wrapped his entire chest. Blood crusted his side, the still oozing exit-hole purpled and ugly. The bandages continued down his arms, dotted in spots with old blood. He hadn’t been tended to properly since the last time she had seen him, days before. “Roman, see if you can find a first aid kit. There has to be one here somewhere,” she said, trying to maintain her professional detachment.

She brushed his dark hair back from his face, her fingers running lightly across the angry cut on his left cheek. The bones shifted beneath her touch, and she drew back with a start. What had Dimera done to him? Gritting her teeth, she began to remove the bandages around his chest.

“Doc?” he cried out softly. “I’m sorry Doc… didn’t know. I’m so sorry.” His breath came out as a sob, and Marlena could tell he had no conscious awareness. It was impossible to reconcile this broken body with the cold-blooded killer that had stalked the Dimera compound.

“Sh...” she gentled. “It will be all right. Just hang on.” As she peeled the strapping from his ribs, he tried to draw himself up, falling on his side and knotting into a ball. She gathered his head into her lap and simply held him, waiting for Roman to get back and help her. She needed to cut the bandages loose, and she would need Roman to hold him steady so that he didn’t end up puncturing a lung.

“Don’t hurt her Stefano. Please, God, I’ll do anything you want. I beg you...” His lean body shook as he called out from his delirium, his voice a dry croak.

Angry now, she dashed at the tears that stung her eyes and gently rubbed his shoulders, willing him to relax. Needle tracks dotted the pale skin, her fingers skimming across the raised marks. She wondered if the drugs had left any trace of the man she had known. “ Easy, honey, I’m here,” she whispered in his ear. “Stefano didn’t hurt me. You just have to hold on a little longer. I know you can hold on for me.”

Marlena sat back, completely exhausted. John lay peacefully now, a heavy blanket pulled to his chin, covering the fresh bandages that held his chest together. The gunshot wound was merely one more wound on a body that had been pushed to its limit and beyond. The bullet had cut in and out, low on his left side. Luckily, it hadn’t been a hollow point, hadn’t mushroomed or fragmented. She was fairly certain it had missed the kidney, though there was no way to tell for certain at the moment. The bleeding was stopped, it would have to be enough for now. She started, jarred from her thoughts, as ‘Roman’s’ hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“Doc, come on. You need to lie down, take it easy. You’ve had a lot to take in and I know you’re worried about him.”

The bitterness was there, barely disguised. She couldn’t blame him for his anger, but right now, she just couldn’t deal with it. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I know this hurts you, but I can’t help it. Roman, I thought he was you for so long. I believed it because I wanted to, I needed you so badly.

“Do you know what Stefano told me? He said that he became Roman Brady because I wanted him to. I made him believe it. I made him believe he was a husband, a father, a son. Now that’s all gone and he’s lying there hurt. Maybe I should hate him, but right now, I just can’t.”

“Doc, don’t turn him into some martyr,” Roman said, his voice harsher than he intended. “I’ve seen this man in action. He is sick! Something is missing inside of him. You didn’t do that to him. I don’t know what did, but he worked for Stefano long before you ever met him. We should both just be grateful he didn’t revert to type with you or the kids. Marlena, killing is nothing to him- he’s dangerous. I’m willing to let him let him leave, let him go back to Stefano. He saved you and I owe him more than my own life. But that doesn’t mean I trust him. It doesn’t mean you should trust him. You can’t save some people, Marlena. You’ll only get hurt if you try.”

She managed a faint smile and changed the subject. “Roman, you better radio in to Salem. Let them know we’re coming. The kids… what is this going to do to the kids?”

“Their father, their real father, is coming home,” he said. “I don’t see the problem, Marlena!”

“Roman, he raised them. You need to understand that,” she said softly, reaching out to take his hand. “I don’t want you to tell anyone what he is. Not yet. Tell them you are coming home. Tell them ‘John’ didn’t know who he was, that he thought he was you. That’s truth enough for now.”

Roman jerked away from her, his anger bubbling over. How could she protect this man who had stolen so much from him? “How exactly are you planning to keep what he is a secret? He’s dangerous, Marlena! He’s not a naughty child and you aren’t going to be able to just bat your eyes at him and make him behave! He’ll end up hurting somebody- I just hope that somebody isn’t you!” With that, he stormed away toward the cockpit.

“You passed out,” she replied as she fussed with the bandages on his side and avoided meeting his eyes. “You should have told me what they did to you, how badly you were hurt. We need to get you to a hospital as soon as we land. R… Roman radioed ahead. Bo and Abe are going to meet us at the airport with an ambulance. It’s going to be okay.”

Her hair fell in front of her face, a golden shield that blocked his view. He reached out, trailed his fingers through the silken mass, and tucked it behind her ear. Hazel eyes locked on his and it was all he could do to force breath into his lungs. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Any time,” she whispered back.

“The drugs worked- is he going to be able to fly?” Roman’s voice cut in.

Sensing a threat, John reached for his holster, resting his hand on the butt of his gun. She pulled away from him and he tightened his grip on the weapon, his new anchor to reality. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you on the ground in one piece.”

“Go easy,” Marlena warned. “We had to give you some of those pills to bring you to- you’ve been out cold the whole trip. You shouldn’t even be conscious, but the airport is coming up, and we have to land. Just hold on a little longer and we’ll get you some help.”

“I don’t need help, Marlena,” he replied, trying to sit up. The pain streaked through his side despite the drugs, and he gave it up as a bad idea. Rolling to his side, he gathered his legs beneath him and tried not to notice Marlena’s arm as it wrapped around his waist. Struggling to get to his feet, he let her take most of his weight. Swaying unsteadily, he pulled her close and found himself staring into the angry face of Roman Brady. His throat dry, he pushed himself away from her and lurched toward the cockpit.

Bo leaned against the metal door of the ambulance, anxiously scanning the skies. “What’s the word from the tower,” he asked Abe, who sat bent over the ambulance’s mike.

“The tower just confirmed them for final approach, Bo. They should be down any minute.”

“Man, I just can’t believe that Roman… that Roman’s really been Dimera’s prisoner for all of these years. I can’t believe it wasn’t my brother who has been here. Hell, he’s the one… This is way too weird!” Bo trailed off, shaking his head.

“I know what you mean Bo, but have a little faith. The man who left here to go hunt Stefano is a good man, a man I’m proud to call a friend. And your brother, Roman, he’s a good man too. Everything will work out, we just have to have some faith and give the whole thing a little time.”

In silence, the two men watched as the sleek jet screamed toward the runway, coming in far too fast for safety. Skipping roughly across the tarmac, smoke billowed as the brakes ground and the tires skittered for traction. Still rolling, the plane skewed around sharply as the runway ran out. In a cloud of dust, the aircraft finally came to a halt.

The ambulance carrying Bo and Abe screeched to a halt beside the plane before the dust had time to settle. Leaping out, Bo caught sight of his brother standing in the open hatchway. Hardly believing his eyes, he hesitantly approached the descending stairs. “Roman- is it really you?”

“Bo, God it is good to see you little brother! Come on up, I think I’m going to need some help.”

“What is it? Is it Marlena? Is she okay?” Bo asked, sprinting up the stairs.

“She’s fine. As soon as the plane stopped, she went up front- to him,” Roman replied, his voice sounding strangely bitter to Bo’s ears.

“It’s really you, huh?” Hesitantly, Bo put a hand to Roman’s shoulder, then pulled him into a tight hug. “Man, I’m so sorry for what happened to you. If I had known...”

“It’s okay, Bo. Nobody knew,” Roman said, slapping his little brother’s back. “Nobody knew it wasn’t really me.”

Almost embarrassed, Bo finally broke away, dashing furtively at his eyes. “So, um, what do you need my help with?”

“It’s John, he’s pretty banged-up.”

“I thought he was piloting? He’s hurt? Damn, let’s go get him out of here,” Bo exclaimed, heading for the front of the plane. In his wake, Roman grimly followed.

“Marlena, dammit! Get off the plane. I told you I’m fine, just get out of here,” he was angry and he was tired and he hated arguing with her more than he hated anything else on earth.

“Tower, this is nc178 requesting refueling for immediate take-off. Over,” he spat into the mike.

Bo wedged his way into the crowded cockpit, his glance darting from John to Marlena and back again. “What’s up? What’s the problem you two?”

“Bo, get her the hell off of this plane. I’ve got to start my pre-flight,” John snapped, sparing a glance in Bo’s direction.

Bo paled. Beneath the bandages and the swelling, he could hardly recognize the man he had been closest to for the last fourteen years of his life. “Oh God, R… Uh, John. Come on, we’ve got to get you to the hospital.”

Crouching down, Bo got a good grip on the man’s shoulders and tried to help lever him out of the chair. He found himself staring down the barrel of a 9 millimeter handgun and slowly let go, taking a small step back.

“Bo, I want you to get these people off the plane right now. Take my word for it, this is best for everyone. Now get them the hell out of here!”

More startled than anything, Bo looked to Marlena for some explanation. She waved him back and moved closer to John.

“Honey, put the gun down,” she said, her hand coming to rest on top of his, trembling now under the weight of the gun. Surrendering to his own weariness, the man in the pilot’s seat let his arm drop and Bo plucked the gun from his fingers.

Too tired to fight her, he tried one last tactic. Tilting his now drooping head, he peered toward the darkened doorway. “Roman . . . Roman, you know I’m right. It’s too dangerous for me to stay. I have to go back to Dimera. He won’t hurt me and I can keep him from coming for Marlena. You know I have to go back.”

“You are not going back to him!” Marlena said, grabbing him beneath the jaw and forcing him to look at her. “I’ve seen what he did to you and I won’t let you go back.”

Taking charge of the situation, she ignored any further argument and ordered Bo to help her. John passed out before they managed to get him off the plane. 

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