Three days later, Marlena quietly opened the door to one of the many guest rooms. Stefano had finally consented to let her go to Roman and now she half-feared what she would find. From the doorway, she could see a pale figure, propped up on pillows in an ornate bed. “Roman?” she whispered.

“Doc?” came a cracked reply from the figure laying under the sheets.

The voice was weak, but it was unmistakably his. She walked slowly toward him, afraid to see the damage that had been done. The fact he hadn’t moved from the bed was a bad sign. The unforgiving light that shone from the ceiling showed her the cause. With gentle hands, she tried to find a way to touch him that wouldn’t hurt. “Roman, what has he done to you?”

“It’s OK Doc.” He tried to smile at her, but his swollen face refused to cooperate. “This is actually an improvement. You should have seen me before they gave me a shave.”

His hand crept from beneath the stark white sheets to find her fingers. Roman closed tired eyes and said softly, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you,” she replied, giving his hand a squeeze. At the slight pressure he flinched, the breath hissing from between his teeth.

“Let me see,” she said, releasing his hand and reaching for the sheet tucked beneath his chin. Roman shook his head, winding his fingers through the soft white cotton.





“Let me see,” she repeated, a demand rather than a request. The material slipped from his fingers whether he meant it to or not and she tugged the sheet down until it reached his hips. She tried to remain detached, strove for her ‘Doctor’s objectivity’. There is a reason doctors aren’t allowed to treat the ones they love.

She stumbled back, her face pale, feeling like she was going to be sick. Roman’s arm snaked out, hidden strength there to steady her. “Really, Doc- it’s superficial. Nothing important is broken and the bruises will heal with time.”

“I hate him. If for no other reason than this, I hate him,” she hissed. Giving in to her need to be close to him, she stepped into Roman’s waiting arm and let him pull her near. She leaned against the side of the bed and closed her eyes, her fingers running lightly through his thick hair. “I was afraid I had lost you. When I woke up here, I was afraid I had lost you. I couldn’t bear that- you know?”

Roman sighed deeply and let her presence take away his hurt. “You won’t get rid of me this easily, Doc. I promise you. I figure you’re stuck with me for the next hundred years or so.”

“What’s he want from you, Roman? He’s doing this for a reason. What is it he wants?”

“What has he always wanted? He plays his games. It’s what he does. The old man’s insane. You just take care of yourself, I’ll settle with Dimera.”

“Roman Brady, don’t you lie to me,” she snapped. “He did this to you for a reason. I want you to tell me what it is.”

He looked up and saw the tears that glistened on her cheeks. With a muttered curse, he pulled her down until her head rested against his bandaged chest. She didn’t try to fight him, just lay still as the silent sobs welled up. He trailed gentle circles across her back with the tips of his fingers and tried to deny that the fault for this was his.

“He’s trying to do it again, Doc. He’s trying to wipe out my memories, make me believe I’m whatever it is that he wants me to be,” he finally managed to say.

Marlena shook her head, rejecting the possibility that this was happening. Roman locked his arms around her, ignoring the pain in his ribs. He pulled her tighter and whispered in her ear. “It didn’t work. He can’t make it work this time. I won’t let you go again, do you understand me? You keep me sane, Marlena.”

As he spoke the words, he knew they were true. The demons Stefano had placed in his mind had been real. He had heard the screams, smelled the blood, felt the joy of destruction. He would have stayed in that dark place if she hadn’t come for him. He would go back there if she left.

Marlena pulled slowly away from him and he reluctantly let her go. She brushed away the tears and forced a hesitant smile. “Is that why you’re so beat up? You never have been any good at taking orders.”

“Hey, you know me- I’m stubborn.”





“Yea, you’re the original tough man,” she said, brushing the damp hair back from his face and pretending not to notice the tear that trickled down his cheek.

“Tough enough,” he replied, dragging her down and taking the kiss he had needed since she’d walked into the room.

Knocking discreetly on the door, Stefano gave the pair a minute to collect themselves. While the thought of Marlena in another man’s arms was distinctly distasteful, he had decided it was the least he owed them. After all, it would be for the last time.

Dimera opened the heavy oak door and stepped inside. “Ahh, Roman. So nice to see you feeling better.” In fact, Roman did seem a bit flushed. It was the first time Stefano had seen some color in his face since he had had him carried from the cell below to the room he now occupied.

Roman simply glowered at him, and Stefano turned to beam at Marlena, knowing it would irritate the man in the bed. “And now,’ Doc’, if you will excuse us, Roman and I have some business to discuss.”

“Stefano, don’t do this,” Marlena replied.

Stefano marveled at her ability to beg, coax and threaten, all at the same time. “Don’t do what?” he replied innocently.

“I will do anything, Stefano. Anything to make you stop this. But I won’t allow you to strip his mind away. Not again.”

“Marlena, don’t,” growled Roman, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and forcing his legs to take his weight.

Stefano was once again impressed- with both of them. Then again, it was why they had been chosen. Swaying on his feet, his ribs held together with tightly wrapped surgical tape, ‘Roman’ still managed to look dangerous. Knowing his full capabilities, Stefano thought he looked very dangerous indeed. He signaled to the two guards waiting in the hallway and they came in with tasers drawn. “Marlena, as much as I always enjoy our little debates, I’m afraid that now is not the time. Roman and I have private matters to discuss. I know you don’t wish to make a scene?”

Marlena did wish to make a scene- preferably a homicide scene. Roman’s fingers linked through her own, pulling her back. She allowed herself to be led, knowing that if she started something now, Roman would end up paying for it. Stefano knew it too, and he played with them as a cat would a wounded bird.

Nodding at Roman’s swaying form, Dimera waved a placating hand. “Now Roman, you don’t want me to have to put you down while Marlena watches, do you?”

Roman staggered forward one tentative step and Stefano recognized that he was testing himself, considering whether or not he could cover the ground between them before the tasers found their target. Against his will, Stefano found himself taking a step back, insuring the extra second it would take to allow the tasers to do their job. He saw the realization wash over Roman’s face, the will to fight draining away. “Good boy. Now why don’t you sit back down on the bed and we’ll have a civilized conversation.”

Marlena stood indecisively, wanting to stay but knowing that if Stefano tried to forcibly remove her, Roman would fight him. For all of the confidence she had in her husband, the current odds were simply too great. Still clinging to his hand, she wrapped her free arm carefully around his waist. Leaning close, she whispered in his ear. “I will always love you. I will always be with you. Don’t do anything to get yourself hurt, Roman. Think of me and the children, and how very much we need you.” With that, she kissed him lingeringly, and then forced herself to pull free of his grasping hand. Fighting back the tears, she stalked past Dimera, her eyes giving voice to an unspoken threat.

As Marlena left the room, Roman eased back down on the bed. Stefano noted the grimace of pain, the way he shifted his left arm as if to protect his ribs. The man was not nearly as ready for a fight as he pretended.

Regaining his composure, Roman looked coldly back at Dimera. “OK, just what exactly is it you want from me? And don’t say Marlena, because you will never touch her as long as I still breathe.”

“Roman, Roman, Roman. If I wanted to take her, we both know you would have stopped breathing a long time ago. No, actually, I come bearing gifts. I am going to give you something you want very desperately. I’m going to help you remember your past...all of your past.”

“Don’t do me any favors, Stefano. I’ve had a taste of your ‘memories’ and I believe I’ll pass. If you think I’ll let you take her away from me again, you’re wrong- and I sure as hell won’t believe a damn thing you tell me about my past.”

“Don’t be so certain, Roman. What I have to show you is very convincing. Now, I believe that if you are well enough to stand, you are well enough to continue our little discussion downstairs. I have a few things that may help aid your memory. It may not be a pleasant conversation, but then every new birth must bring its share of pain, eh, my friend?”

“I’m not your friend, Stefano. I never have been,” Roman snapped, his voice harsh. He was once again on his feet, his hands attempting to curl his swollen fingers into fists.

“We may as well get one thing straight, old man. I am going no where with you, Dimera. Not until you let Marlena go. Let her go, and I will give you anything you ask. But as long as you hold her, I will fight you every step of the way.”

The will to fight was there, but the madness wasn’t. Stefano could sense the fear, he could hear it in the man’s voice. He feared for Marlena and that fear made him weak. This ‘Roman’ was a dangerous enemy, but he could be controlled. He lacked the single-minded will to destroy that would allow him to make a stand here and now- a stand that would assuredly leave one of them dead. It was time to make it very clear to ‘Roman Brady’ just who exactly was in control.

With two quick steps, Dimera closed the distance between them. He put all of his power into a viscous backhanded blow, his signet ring digging a deep gouge through the tender flesh of the man’s left cheek.

Roman had seen the blow coming, had known that his bluff had been called. He also knew enough to stand and take Stefano’s punishment for his insubordination. As the ringing blow struck home, he felt bones crack and stabbing pain shot through his head. The force of it knocked him back onto the bed, the salty sting of blood making his eyes water. The red haze wove through his mind, and through the blinding fog he swore he heard himself growling deep in the back of his throat. Adrenalin pumped, his nerves sang, the hungry smile twisted his face. He gathered himself, the urge for destruction overpowering.

“She dies, Roman,” a cold voice cut through the fog. “If you come up off of that bed, no matter what you do to me, Marlena dies.”

The two men locked eyes, but there was no battle of wills to be fought. Roman sat very still, trying to slow his rapid breathing, realizing that his ribs were on fire and that he couldn’t see out of his left eye.

Stefano stepped back very slowly, careful to retain his control. “Roman, I want you to stand-up, turn around, and put your hands behind your back. And Roman, I want you to do it now. Do you understand me?” he asked, a hard edge to his voice.

Without saying a word, Roman stiffly complied, the anger barely contained.

Dimera refused to allow him even the pretense of resistance. Now, while his fear for Marlena was still fresh in his mind, it was time to teach him how to obey. Stepping directly behind the swaying body, Dimera grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck and shoved hard. He crashed into the wall, the sound of the impact echoed through the room. Roman flinched, his arms starting to come up to protect himself. Stefano tightened his grip, digging his fingers deep into the muscles, and Roman stopped fighting, putting his hands behind his back. Never loosening his hold, Stefano ground his face into the wall and whispered softly into his ear, “I asked if you understood?”

Roman leaned against the wall, fighting his instinct to turn and destroy. Almost groaning in his anger and frustration, he forced his muscles to relax. Gritting his teeth, he gave the appropriate response. “Yes sir, I understand.”

With a satisfied grunt, Stefano motioned to one of his guards to hand him a set of handcuffs. “I don’t want you to flinch from that wall. Just stand still and keep your hands behind your back. Do you understand?”

Roman locked his knees, leaning against the wall to keep his feet. “Yes sir,” he whispered into the woodwork.

Good enough for now, thought Stefano. And slowly, as much for the psychological effect as anything, he personally snapped the handcuffs around Roman’s swollen wrists.

Dimera watched as the broad leather straps were tightened, effectively immobilizing the man in the chair. The high-backed wooden chair was bolted to the floor, and Roman was completely constrained. The heavy leather would keep him in place, without causing too much damage to his battered limbs. Stefano knew that this could take a while. Marlena’s presence kept Roman controllable, but she also provided a strong tie to the man’s current reality. Dimera had to cut that tie, without removing the man’s protective instincts and the resulting leverage it gave him. Fortunately, Stefano was fairly certain he knew how to do that. For now, however, it was necessary to once again cloud John’s mind, to make him start to question just exactly who and what he was.

Moving to a large cabinet bolted against the wall, he filled a syringe with a powerful combination of drugs. Walking softly up behind the man in the chair, he reached out and gently massaged his shoulder, going over the spreading bruises that distinctly showed where strong fingers had dug into the tender flesh. Roman flinched in the chair, and Dimera felt the muscles beneath his hand surge with power as the bonds restraining him were fully tested for the first time. “Easy now, you’re not going anywhere. Just sit back, let it wash over you.” He deftly eased the needle through tensed muscles, the bound man slowly relaxing as the drugs started to take effect.





“I believe it’s time to break out the family album, John.” Pulling out his remote, he touched a button and a still photo flashed on the white wall in front of the chair. The photo showed a man in his early 30’s. He was tall and thin, his greasy blond hair blond hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. He would have seemed comical if not for the bulge of the weapon that showed clearly through his designer jacket. “Remember him John? Kyle Reilley. He was a petty drug dealer with delusions of grandeur. You should remember him. He was the first man you killed for me, though certainly not the last. If you can remember who he is John, you can remember who you are.”

“I don’t remember shit, Stefano. There’s nothing to remember and there never will be.”

If he said it enough times, maybe it would be true. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t be....

The damn winos have been using the alley for a toilet, the musky scent sharp and thick in the summer air. He’s not going to let it ruin his enjoyment of the moment. It’s been too long. Far too long. Years of practice, of training, of waiting. It had all been needless and he knew it. He was born for moments such as this and he had proven it long ago. Time to prove it to Dimera.

He turns and walks away from the alley, not bothering to look back. He’d been right- it had been far too long.
“John? Tell me what you remember, John. Tell me what you see.”

His breath rasped out harshly from between clenched teeth. The alley. The knife. The blood. “You want to know what I remember, old man? Do you really want to know?” He forced a smile, struggled to focus on the face that peered down at him. The face was expectant, excited, gloating. He’d burn in Hell before he told that face the truth.

“I see her,” he continued, feeding on the anger that flickered in those dark eyes. “I see her in the church. I see her in her wedding gown. I see her beneath me on the night we made our children. I see her, Stefano. She’s all I’m ever going to see, you pathetic son of a bitch!”

“Enjoy it while it lasts, John, because it won’t last much longer,” Dimera hissed, raising another needle and calling the nightmares once again.

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