Stefano studied the figure slumped on the couch. The man’s exhaustion showed through in the slouch of his body, the droop of his eyes. At least for the moment, the tense, almost explosive energy that had made him snap at anyone around him seemed to have dissipated. The killing had achieved its dual purpose. It had eliminated the man who had dared to touch one of his own, who had dared to take his child. It had also brought back a modicum of control to his most volatile agent.

John leaned back, half reclining on the leather sofa, and rubbed tired eyes. He gave a sigh of appreciation and lit the big cigar Dimera handed him.

“So, everything went according to plan?” Dimera asked, sinking back into the chair opposite John.

“Like clockwork. The boys did a good job. That Bryce is a good kid. We should keep our eyes on him,” John replied, sipping at one of Stefano’s finest scotches. He let it roll down his tongue and sear his throat, enjoying the smokey taste. With a start, he realized he would fall asleep if he wasn’t careful. Sitting up, he concentrated on his report.

“I hit the target just like we planned, Stefano. Don’t worry Jameson knew exactly why he died. He went to hell with your name still ringing in his ears.”

“You did as we discussed? The other members of the group will understand the message?”

John gave a sharp laugh. “Oh yea. Nobody is going to doubt that Jameson’s death was a message. I left the guy’s head sitting in the middle of his damned desk a desk that resides within a secured federal building. I don’t think we have to worry we were too subtle! Now we just have to wait and see which of our little rats start scurrying around and follow them down the holes when they do. We’ll have them, Stefano. Every last one of those bastards will pay with his life.”





“Then we’ll wait,” Dimera said simply. “Now, why don’t you get some sleep. You look like you could use it.”

Standing, John crushed out the last half of his cigar. Stretching like a cat, he gave Dimera a grin. “That’s what happens when you work for a living, old man. You should try it sometime.”

Dimera grimaced. “And you should have more respect for your elders, John. I’ll expect you at breakfast?”

“I’ll be there.” As he moved toward the door, John stopped beside Dimera’s chair and gave the older man’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “He’s the one, Stefano. He’s the one that gave the order. He’s the one that had her killed. He died with my blade in his throat and your name in his ears it’s a good start.”

“She would have been a beautiful child,” Stefano replied, his voice muted.

“Yea. Yea, she would’ve.”

Dimera sat silently staring into his glass as John walked from the room, shutting the door behind him.

John fairly loped down the staircase to the main floor, feeling better than he had since well, since the explosion. A full night’s sleep, a shower and a shave, and he was a new man. His mind was clear for the first time in a long while.

He strode through the main room, heading to the porch where he and Stefano usually ate when the weather was good. Dressed in jeans, Tshirt and hiking boots, he planned to go out and enjoy the fall weather in the mountains. It would be a few weeks before their contacts would be able to positively ID all of the members of the organization and he was going to spend that time in the woods. Just let the quiet soak into his bones, wash away the blood on his hands.

This had always been his favorite retreat and he planned to make the most of the Indian Summer. He only wished he could share it with the children. Share it with her. Pushing the thoughts away, he plotted the route for his hike as he approached the porch.

He stopped short as he rounded the doors and found Carrie and Sami seated at the table with Dimera. The silence was both icy and obvious and John fleetingly wondered whose terrible idea this had been.

“Mom said we could come down if we wanted to,” Sami said defensively, noting his arrival.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” John replied, taking his seat at the table.

“John, I cannot stay lockedup in those rooms anymore. It’s driving me nuts,” Carrie said, giving him a sharp look. “Besides, Mr. Dimera did say we could have the run of the compound.” She nodded coldly in Stefano’s direction.

John gave a shrug. “Okay. Okay. I’m not arguing. I just didn’t expect you at breakfast. Where are your mom and Eric?”

When Carrie didn’t reply, Sami hesitantly said, “They thought they would rather eat in today.”

Without comment, John nodded his understanding and reached over for the blueberry muffins. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he sat back in his chair. Peering across to the distant peaks, he tried to ignore the uncomfortable silence that settled around the table. His building tension at having the two parts of his life in such close proximity was rapidly threatening to destroy his good mood.

Growing bored with the strain at what was usually his favorite meal of the day, Stefano addressed John. “You’re going hiking? Are you going to walk up to Dragon’s Tooth today or stay in the valley?”

“Think I’ll stay in the valley. Most of my old gear was gone, so I had to pick up new boots. I want to break them in slowly,” John replied, glad for Dimera’s distraction.

“That reminds me, did Jensen set you up with a new kit? Everything fit okay?”

“Like a condom, boss. Jensen’s good...” John broke off suddenly, flushing bright red as he realized the girls were at the table.

Carrie couldn’t help it, she snorted milk out her nose, half choking herself as Sami merely looked at John in shock.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry… I mean...” John jumped uncomfortably to his feet as all three of his companions burst out laughing. Embarrassed, he stalked over to the railing and looked out over the woodlands. Catching his scattered train of thought, he turned back to the table. “No, I really am sorry. And I had better not hear either of you talking like that. It is totally inappropriate.”

Stefano could not quite contain another snort at that one and John shot him a dirty look.

“Oh, come now, John. It wasn’t as bad as all that. Come eat before it gets cold,” he said, dabbing at his eyes and trying to catch his breath. As John hesitantly sat back down, Dimera could not help but comment. “I would imagine that breakfast at your house was an event!”

For a moment, there was an uncomfortable pause and then John flashed a grin. “It was that,” he said, almost wistfully.

“Of course, you weren’t this good a cook,” Carrie interjected with a halfsmile.

“Well I’m way better than your mother. You have to admit that,” John shot back, unable to prevent himself from taking the bait.

Sami merely rolled her eyes. “Everybody is way better than Mom!”

Dimera reclined in his seat, stifling a contented sigh as he let the easy banter wash over him. He had so rarely seen John relax. Even as a youngster, he had rarely let down his guard. But here, with the children, there was a gentleness that Stefano hadn’t expected. Stefano was surprised to find himself looking forward to the coming weeks. Away from the everyday business of his empire, the sound of laughter in the house, he was going to enjoy watching John in this ‘fatherly’ role. Imagine, John Black lecturing someone on ‘inappropriate language’! He smiled to himself as the meal began to wind down.

“Can I come too, Dad?” Sami was saying, as Dimera shifted his attention back to the conversation at the table.

“Sure...” John replied with a smile, before adding more hesitantly, “But… you better check with your mom first. If it is okay with her, grab a swim suit. There’s a nice lake about 3 miles out. A dip will probably feel good by the time we get out there. I’ll get Jensen to pack a lunch. Carrie, you in?”

“I think I’m going to stick around, here. Thanks anyway, John,” she replied, darting a quick look in Dimera’s direction.

“Okay, we’ll see you all later then,” he said, moving toward the kitchen.

“Dad!” Sami called out. “It’s not like I packed any clothes!”

“Don’t worry about it. I told you Jensen was good. Check the dresser in your room. There ought to be something in there that will fit. And make sure to wear good shoes. It’s a fair hike.”

As John left, Sami following quickly after, Carrie turned to face Stefano. “Well, nobody ever accused you of being unprepared.”

Raising an eyebrow, Stefano nodded in acknowledgment. “Thank you”

Picking up her cup, Carrie muttered into her coffee. “It wasn’t exactly a compliment.”

Sami came flying down the stairs, pulling up as she saw John sitting on the couch in the main room, loading a shotgun.

“Hey kiddo. Your mom say it was all right for you to tag along?”

Avoiding his eyes, she replied, “Mmm… it’s fine. But, what’s that for?”

From the open doorway, Dimera silently observed the exchange, Carrie at his side.

“It’s turkey season,” John replied. “The woods around here are full of them. Thought I might get a chance to bring home dinner.” He continued loading buckshot into the modified 8 gauge. It would take six rounds, including the one in the chamber. At close range, he could cut a man in half with it. Turkey weren’t the only thing he would be watching for. Giving Sami a smile, he continued, “I used to hunt these woods all the time when I was younger.”

“That’s sick, Dad. I don’t want you to shoot a turkey!” Sami trailed behind John, following him to the kitchen door where a pack lay waiting.

“Samantha Brady! I have seen you hoarding the drumsticks at every single Thanksgiving since you were two years old. Where did you think they came from? It’s not like those birds committed suicide or died of old age or something!”

“Well still...” the sound of her voice died out as she and John headed for the backdoor. As silence once again descended on the house, Stefano was startled by a soft voice at his side.





“Why did you do this? Why did you do this to him? Why did you have to destroy him like this?”

He studied the young woman, so like her mother it was hard to believe the two did not share the same blood. As she looked him steadily in the eye, Dimera shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean, Carrie. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him more at ease. He remembers who he is and he accepts it. I didn’t destroy anything. I just brought him back to himself, to who and what he is.”

“I saw what you did to him. At the trial I was there. You tortured him. You drugged him. Finally, you broke something. You took away the man who was my father and I want to know why.”





“You’re mistaken. If John is… damaged, I’m not the one who did it. When he came to me, he was already ‘broken’,” Dimera said dryly. “I gave him a place. A purpose. But I didn’t create him. I didn’t make him what he is. He came that way.”

The doubt showed clearly on her face and despite his better judgement, he wanted her to believe that it was the truth. Giving a sigh of frustration, he gestured toward the house. “If you really wish to know how John came to work for me, I’ll tell you. But we might as well get comfortable, because it’s a long story.”

John lay back on the flat boulder, soaking in the sun. He felt at peace for the first time in a long while. He’d been right a swim had been the perfect thing after the long walk out to the lake. The noon day sun sparkled down out of crisp clear skies, the temperature in the high 70’s. He enjoyed the sensation of the water drying on his skin as he lay baking on the rock. Looking over to where Sami was similarly laid out, he wondered if she was dozing.

“Hey, peanut. You up for some lunch?” he called softly, not wanting to wake her if she was asleep.

Barely opening her eyes, she replied lazily. “Sure, Dad. What’d you bring?”

Levering himself upright, John rummaged through the pack. “Well, Jensen came through again. Looks like we have a choice of ham, roast beef or chicken salad. You have a preference?”

“Mm. Chicken salad sounds great. Not a lot of vegetarians out here, I guess?”

“Come on, now. We’ve got apples, oranges. Must be tea in the thermoses. Jeesh, no wonder this pack was so heavy! Score we have chocolate chip cookies!” he exclaimed, holding the bag aloft triumphantly.

“Oh, like you made them yourself!” Sami said with heavy sarcasm. Coming over to dig through the pack, she realized that she really was quite hungry. “You know, I think this whole servant thing is making you lazy! When’s the last time you actually cooked something?”

“I never knew you thought so highly of my culinary skills. Just for that remark, I might have to make dinner tonight!”

“No… no. That’s okay. Forget I said anything!” Leaning back against the rock, she bit into the chicken salad. “You’re right this really was good.”

“I’m always right. Heads up!” he called, tossing her an orange.

With a grin, she caught it. “Thanks Dad.”

Leaning back against the sun warmed rock, he stared up at the sky. Closing his eyes, he allowed the motes of light to spark across his vision, dance through his mind. “Why do you still call me that?” he asked softly.

“Hm?” Sami mumbled through a mouth full of chicken. “Call you what?”

“Dad.”

“Uh, cause you are,” she replied, clearly uncomfortable with the change in topic.

“Sami, you know I’m not Roman. The DNA tests left no doubt. I’m not your dad.” Opening his eyes, he looked at her. For so long he had thought she was his his and Marlena’s. So much of her mother showed through. That long blond hair, almost dry from the sun’s rays; the clear skin that so quickly blushed pink when she was embarrassed; her eyes, the blue of her eyes that almost matched his own. He gave a wistful sigh. “I wish I was, but I’m not. Roman was your real dad.”

“So I guess Marlena isn’t Carrie’s mom?”

“Sami, it’s not the same,” John replied with a grimace. “I’m not the same man I was when I raised you. You and Eric and Carrie. What I remember, what I have done… It’s not the same.”

“You don’t seem that different to me.”

“What, you mean aside from the trail of bodies? Aside from the fact that I work for Stefano Dimera? Sami, I’m not the same. There is no point in pretending otherwise. Who I was when I raised you guys is not the same man I am now.”

“You aren’t different in ways that matter,” she snapped, her eyes narrowing. “After you remembered, you still brought Mom home. And the explosion I never thought you did that. I knew you wouldn’t hurt Mom like that. I was right about that. And now bringing us out here. You did that to protect us, right? How is it any different? You’re still doing what you always have. Protecting the family. None of that has changed. The only thing that has changed is that now you say you aren’t our dad anymore. You try and pretend it’s true. You try and stay way. But as soon as we need you, there you are. I wish you would stop pretending you don’t care about us anymore!”

He was startled by the anger in her voice. “Sami,” he said gently, “It’s not that I don’t care. I will always care. About you. Your brother and sister… Marlena. I stay away because I do care. Because I put you at risk. I can’t protect you from that, so I stay away. I can’t be the father you want.”

“You can, you just won’t. If you wanted it bad enough, you’d find a way,” she stated flatly.

“You are very stubborn, you know.”

“I get it from you,” she replied, a dangerous glint in her eye.

“Yes, you do,” he said with a grimace, scooting over so that he crouched at her side. “How about this. I can’t tell you what is going to happen in the future. I can’t even say where I’ll be. But what if we both agree, just between us You will always be a daughter to me. If you call, I will be there. If you need me, I will come. How about it?”

She refused to meet his eyes, so he took her into his arms and pulled her close. She stiffened at his touch, but finally relaxed and hugged him tight.

“I want you to come home. I want you to come home to stay,” she almost whispered.

Gently, he kissed the top of her head. “Sami, if anything happened, if any of you got hurt… I don’t think I could live with it. I know I wouldn’t want to. We can’t go back to what we had, Sami. I won’t risk it.”

“I know you would never hurt me, Dad,” she sobbed against his shoulder.

Stroking her back in a gesture from her childhood he held her close and cursed the blind Fates. Pulling back slightly, he looked down and caught her eye. “I will always watch over you. That much I can promise. Okay?”

“Okay, I guess,” she replied, wiping at her eyes. “It’s still all right for me to call you ‘dad’, right?”

Letting her go, he chuckled. “I don’t mind at all. Believe me, I’ve been called a lot worse.”

“I can imagine,” she replied with half a grin.

“Oh, nice. We get this fatherdaughter thing worked out and two seconds later, you’re already disrespecting me. I tell you, ungrateful children!” Moving quickly, he bent down and scooped her up in his arms.

“I should have been stricter when you were young!” he shouted above her shrieks as he splashed out into the lake and dropped her in the cold water.

As they walked silently back through the fields, John saw three huge birds winging their way in from the distant treeline. Two hens and a giant gobbler settled into the thick grass 50 yards to their fore. Grabbing Sami’s arm, he whispered, “Stay here. I see dinner up ahead.” As he started to creep forward through the tall grass, he felt a small hand clutch his shoulder.

“Don’t, Dad. I don’t want to see you kill anything. Please?”

Startled, he stopped and looked down at her. “Even if it meant no dinner?” he asked, breaking into a sudden grin.

“I could stand to miss one meal,” she replied with an answering smile.

Rolling his eyes, he laid the shotgun back against his shoulder. “I’m going to remind you of this come Thanksgiving! But, okay. Nothing dies today. Now, let’s go flush those birds up anyway. I love to see them on the wing.”

“Bet I get there first!” she cried as she took off running through the high grass.

Their laughter echoing back from the soaring hills, they sprinted through the grasslands. With a roar of angry feathers, the big birds took flight, soaring up into the blue of the Virginia skies. 

-----

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.”

-----

“Did you find Carrie?” Dimera asked from where he still sat on the couch, awaiting John’s return.

“Yes… We talked,” he replied shortly, dropping into the chair opposite Stefano. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows on his knees and gave Dimera a firm look. “I don’t want you around the kids, Stefano. Leave them alone.”

The older man’s eyes narrowed in irritation. “I did not seek Carrie out, John. She came to me. She is a very persistent young woman.”

“I’m sure if you set your mind to it, you will be able to resist a young girl, Stefano.”

“Ah, like you resisted Sami this morning, John?” Stefano shot back, raising an eyebrow. “I thought Marlena wished you to… to ‘keep your distance’ as they say. Who did you spend your morning with?”

John ducked his head. “I had Sami ask if it was okay. Marlena knew...”

“Mm, of course she did, John,” Stefano replied with a smile. “You aren’t going to pretend you believe that are you?”

John had recognized Sami’s nonanswer when he had asked if Marlena had given her permission to go. Hell, he had known Marlena would never agree. He had taken Sami with him anyway, had wanted the time with her too badly to deny himself. With a mental shrug, he looked back at Stefano. “I wasn’t aware we were discussing my behavior, Stefano. We are discussing yours and the fact that you will stay away from that family.”

“Or?” Dimera asked pointedly.

“Or Jensen will be planning a funeral,” John responded, his face cold.

Stefano gave a sigh of frustration and rubbed at his temples. He was tired of the constant threats, the constant tension. “Do you remember what I did to you, John? What I did to make you remember who you are? Do you realize how much of your blood I already have on my hands?”

His stomach knotting, John stiffened in his seat. “Is that a threat?”

“Damn you!” Stefano spat, rising to his feet and stepping to John. “You think I wanted that? I raised you! You think I wanted you screaming, coughing up blood?!” Roughly, he reached down and grabbed John by the scruff of his neck, forcing the blue eyes to meet his own. “Do you think I want you laying dead at my feet?!” With a snort of disgust, Dimera shoved John away and paced back to the chair he had occupied.

John sat frozen, stunned by the outburst, by the anger that Dimera so rarely let show through. With a groan of frustration, he ran a heavy hand through his dark hair. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I don’t want to fight you, either. But… This hurts her. We hurt her. I won’t let that happen, not to her and not to the kids.”

“Stefano, please. We should leave them alone. Leave them in peace. Too much wrong has been done already...” he said, the words directed at himself as much as at Dimera. “I will kill to protect her, Stefano. I will kill anyone who is a threat. Don’t make me come for you.”

“Samantha Brady!” Marlena called sternly, as her daughter attempted to quietly sneak to her room. “Would you care to tell me where you have been all day?”

“Um, Mom!” Sami cried, starting guiltily. “I was just around. You said it was all right for us to leave the suite.”

“I did not say you could stay gone all day! Sami, I was ready to panic when I couldn’t find you. We are being held here against our will and you just disappeared. I only knew you were with John because Carrie told me!”

Sami flushed, looking down at her feet. “I’m sorry, Mom. I should have told you where I was going. But… Well, I thought maybe you wouldn’t let me go...”

Marlena gave a sigh and sank back down on the couching. Patting a cushion, she gestured for her daughter to join her. As Sami tucked herself into the corner and turned to face her mother, Marlena commented, “You’re probably right. But Sami, you still should have asked. Do you understand me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Sami muttered, nodding.





Softening, Marlena continued more gently. “So, do you want to tell me about it? What did you two do?”

Sami brightened, a smile lighting her face. “It was great! We hiked out to this big lake and had a picnic and went swimming. You should come with us, Mom! It was, it was like before.”

“Honey, you shouldn’t get your hopes up, you know. He isn’t coming back.”

Sami shrugged, letting her gaze wander. “I know. Dad and I talked. He said he couldn’t come home. But I think he would if you asked him to,” she said with conviction, her eyes locking on her mother’s.

“He isn’t your dad, Sami. You know that, right?” Marlena asked, more worried than she would have liked to admit.





“He said it was okay! He said I could call him that. That he would always come if I needed him,” Sami said, her temper beginning to flare.

Surprised, Marlena spoke without thinking. “He shouldn’t have...”

“What?” Sami cut her off. “Shouldn’t have said to call him dad?”

Her face flushed and Sami shot to her feet. “He is my dad, and nothing you say is going to change that!” She ran to her room and slammed the door before Marlena could think of an adequate reply.

“Hey,” Carrie said distractedly, flopping on the double bed opposite the one Sami rested on. Rolling onto her back, she stared at the ceiling. “Mom said to tell you dinner would be up soon. She told Jensen we’d be eating up here tonight.”

Sami reluctantly cracked an eye open. “I’m not hungry. How about you?”

“Nope, not really.”

Still studying her sister, Sami hesitantly asked, “Why were you so mad at Dad? When Stefano told us about his past he couldn’t help any of that, you know?”

Carrie released a deep sigh. “I know. I wasn’t mad about that. It’s just… I guess it was important to me that when John left us, it was against his will. You know Dimera forced him, somehow. Then they’re sitting there talking about how Stefano took him in. How he saw something ‘special’ in him. And John was sitting there blushing like Dimera was some bragging father!”

Carrie’s eyes narrowed at the memory. “I think I was actually jealous. I thought that John had left because he wanted to be with Stefano more than he wanted to be with us. It really hurt to think he did that.”

Sami propped herself on an elbow. “That isn’t why he left, Carrie.”

“I know,” her sister replied. “We talked about it. I think he left because he was afraid he would hurt us.”

“I know that’s why he won’t come back. He told me so,” Sami replied. Sitting up on the bed, she wrapped her arms around her legs and gave Carrie a sly look.

“But...I think he would come back if Mom asked him,” she continued, trying to gauge Carrie’s response.

When Carrie made no comment, Sami prodded, “You want that, don’t you?”

A brief knock sounded, saving Carrie the effort of a reply. Eric stuck his head in. “Hey, come on you two, supper’s almost ready.”





“We’re busy, Eric. We’ll be there later, okay?” Sami said, giving him a hard look.

Rather than take the hint, Eric came in and took a seat on the end of Sami’s bed. “So? What’s up?”

Sami merely rolled her eyes, not wanting to get into another argument with her twin. As usual, it was left to Carrie to break the stalemate. “We were just talking about John, Eric.”

“Why?” he asked, a scowl instantly plastering itself to his face. “I thought that was a dead issue. He’s gone and he’s not coming back! He doesn’t want anything to do with us and that’s just fine by me.”

“He is hardly ‘gone’, Eric! He’s just down the hall, all you’d have to do is yell and he’d come running in!” Sami said, rising to the bait.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“Enough, both of you!” Carrie said. “I can’t stand any more of your arguing. Sami, you just aren’t being realistic when you pretend nothing has changed. Even John says he isn’t the same man he was when he raised us!”

Eric shot his twin a superior smirk and Carrie’s focus shifted to him. “And Eric, you aren’t any better. We know John didn’t set that bomb. He isn’t the one who killed… Roman. And you can’t even come close to understanding why he left the family after he remembered his past. You don’t know enough to judge his actions!”

“Oh, and you do?” Eric replied, his face flushing.

“Look, let’s just drop this,” Carrie said, getting to her feet.

“No! You brought it up. I want to know. Why do you think he left? What is it that makes you so ‘knowledgeable’?”





Carrie glared down at her younger brother. She still wasn’t certain how she felt about John and she resented having to defend him. “Fine, Eric! You want the truth, I’ll give it to you. John told us about how he went to work for Stefano. He had no parents. No family. He was living on the street, robbing people. Selling drugs. Who knows what. He went to work for Stefano when he was younger than you, Eric!”

As she told the story, the anger grew. Anger over how John had had to live. Anger over how many of the people she cared about ended up leaving her. Anger that John had left. The anger showed in her voice, as she virtually yelled at a now cowed Eric. “He didn’t just work for Stefano. He killed for him. That’s what he did. It’s what he is, Eric! He was good at it, he even liked it! He remembers all of that, and those memories make him different. They make him dangerous. That is why he left, Eric. He left because the man he is now is dangerous!”

She wiped a tear away in frustration, wondering how much more of this she could stand. This endless debate over what had caused their family to be torn apart was pointless. The truth was things would never be the same and she was no longer certain the reasons mattered.

As she opened the door to leave, Sami’s voice stopped her. “You never did give me an answer, Carrie. Do you want John to come back?”

Carrie looked at her younger sister for a long moment. Without answering, she stepped out of the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind her.

Sami and Eric sat in stunned silence. Shocked by the outburst from their normally calm sister, neither knew what to say.

“You really think he would come back?” Eric muttered.

“He will. I know it.”
-----

John collapsed across the back of the couch, allowing his body to sink gratefully down into the soft cushions. Giving a small grunt, he kicked his bare feet up to rest on the top of the sofa’s backrest, popped open his beer and lit a cigarette. He flicked on the TV with the remote and settled in to catch the Pat’s game.

He had exhausted himself hiking Dragon’s Tooth trail, but the effort had been well worth it. He had eaten lunch perched on an outcropping of rock 200 feet above the forest floor. The view had, at least for a while, distracted him from wondering why none of the family had come down for either dinner the night before or breakfast this morning. With the help of a hot shower, he was now hoping the game could take his mind off of his present situation for at least a little while longer.

He tensed at the sound of a light tread on the stairs to the basement, but forced himself to ease back down as he caught a hint of her perfume. Knowing that her presence could bode nothing good, he concentrated on the television and willed her to go away.





Marlena knew that he was aware of her, despite his seemingly relaxed pose. Stretched out over the big couch, frayed jeans and an old football jersey making him look like some indolent teenager, she could still see the play of the muscles in his back as he tried to hide his discomfort at her presence. He should be nervous, she thought to herself.

The Sunday paper made a loud ‘Slap!’ as it hit the coffee table in front of the sofa. Almost leisurely, John shifted around to sit crosslegged on the couch. Looking at her as she stood by the opposite end of the couch, he merely raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. Was there something you wanted to watch?”

“Perhaps the news,” she replied with a frown. “I wanted an update on one of the stories in today’s paper. Right there front page. You can’t miss it,” she said, gesturing to the paper spilling across the small table. “A terrorist attack on a federal building. Someone broke through security and killed an Assistant Director of the ISA while he sat in his office. I believe the article said the assassin escaped in ‘a hail of gunfire, aided by a four man team.’ Would you care to know the name of the Assistant Director who was killed?”

“Marlena, if you want to know if I killed Director Jameson, you should just ask me,” he replied, relieved that she wasn’t angry about the time he had spent with the Sami and Carrie. As to killing Jameson, his conscience was clear on that one.

She folded her hands across her chest, almost deciding that she really didn’t want to know. They all might be better off if she didn’t know. She asked anyway. “Did you kill him? Or have him killed?”

A grimace of pain seemed to flit cross his features and then he smiled a small innocent smile. Looking straight into her eyes, he replied, “Of course I killed him. With my own hand, I cut his throat. You didn’t think I would let him live, did you?”

She had been right all along, she really hadn’t wanted to know. The worst of it was his utter lack of regret, of remorse. She had counseled sociopaths who had shown more empathy.

“You are going to kill all of them, aren’t you?” she asked, her face going pale at the realization of just exactly how far John was willing to go.

He gave a halfnod in recognition of her insight. “They represent a threat to you and the children of course I’m going to kill them. Jameson… I destroyed him for the sheer pleasure of the act. He killed your child, Marlena. Almost killed you. Taking his head, that was pure pleasure.”

He continued to stare up at her, willing her to see him for exactly who and what he was. Willing her to stay away from him, as he was no longer certain he could ever make himself turn away from her.

She had known what he was capable of, had known it all along. Yet it felt like a betrayal to find that he was still the killer described in the files, still the man who had walked through the island compound leaving a trail of corpses in his wake. This was the man who haunted her dreams and who she would carry in her heart until the day she died. “You promised. You promised me you would let them live,” she whispered.





He shook his head, the harshness of his words belying the gentleness of his tone. “No. I never promised you that. I said I would let them live if I could be certain you were safe. I know the system a little too well, Marlena. I have seen it manipulated by the master. I won’t trust the ‘authorities’ to protect you. I won’t trust anyone but myself. And while those men still breathe, you are still in danger. I will not allow that, and so they will die. But I never broke my promise to you. I never would.”

She stared at him, trying to wrap her mind around the inconsistencies. He looked almost vulnerable, sitting crosslegged on the couch. The faded denim of the jeans brought out the blue in his eyes as he looked up at her, denying the possibility that he would lie to her. Yet he was completely at ease with slitting a man’s throat. He was untroubled by the prospect of dozens of more deaths, all of them done in her name. A shiver ran through her and she rubbed her arms together to fight the sudden chill.

Completely off balance, she tried to gather her thoughts, address her second reason for seeking him out. The reek of a cigarette stung her eyes, drawing her notice. Momentarily confused, she asked, “When did you start smoking?”

Seeing the almost motherly concern that washed across her face, he stifled a chuckle at the vagaries of women and leaned over to crush the butt. “When I was about nine, if I remember correctly.”

“Well, I hope you don’t do it around the children,” she said with a frown.

“Of course not!” he replied, looking at her like he doubted her sanity.

“I wish you wouldn’t do it at all,” she said, more pointedly.

He gave a loose shrug. “Okay. I just quit.”

She sighed loudly, recognizing how ludicrous the conversation was becoming. “You will quit smoking because I ask you to, but you won’t let those men live. Would you care to explain this to me? Really. I’m a psychiatrist, you know. The way your mind works… or rather, doesn’t work...”

He grinned. “I’m really not all that complex, Marlena. I would do anything for you. Anything you ask. The only thing I won’t do is put you at risk or allow someone else to put you at risk. Other than that… You know I’ve never been able to deny you.” No longer able to meet her eyes, he glanced away.

She hugged her arms tighter and stiffly sat in the lounge chair at the opposite side of the table. “Why is that, John?”





Shifting uncomfortable, he shrugged again. “You know why, Do… Marlena. Look, there’s no point in us having this conversation...” he said, struggling to his feet.

“I know you were out with Sami most of the day yesterday.”

Confused by her change in subject, he sank back down onto the couch. “So? You said it was okay,” he replied guiltily, still avoiding her eyes.

“Nothing happened? She is okay, isn’t she?” he asked, becoming anxious when Marlena failed to continue.

“She still thinks you will come back, that eventually you will come home. John, we have to make her accept how things are or it’s just going to hurt her more in the long term.”

Struggling not to reveal the hurt that her words caused, John simply nodded. “You don’t want me around the kids. I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… she was there. And I didn’t think about it. I just wanted to spend time with her. I’m sorry. I was being selfish.”





Frustrated, she shook her head. “John, that’s not what I meant. If they want to see you, that’s okay. I was wrong to try and stop that. I know they still have a lot of questions maybe it’s better if they can talk it out with you, understand why you left. But I don’t want you to lead them on, John. I don’t want them to think that you are coming back. Because you aren’t.”

She had meant her words to be a statement. That he was leaving. That he would not come back to them. Somehow the words formed a question as they hung in the air.

He studied her face and wondered why he could no longer read her, no longer be sure he knew what she was thinking. He had always known what she was feeling, words had been unnecessary. But now… What he thought he sensed in her could not be. His desire made him see things that weren’t there, hear things that weren’t said. With a frustrated sigh, he reassured her. “You don’t have to worry, Marlena. I won’t be back.”

In black Tshirt and fatigues, John slung his rifle over his shoulder and reached for the door. He always made a check of the inner perimeter once the night shift was in place. Football game or not, he would check tonight. He wanted no one getting careless with his family on the scene.

“John!” Eric called, leaping down the stairs. The boy was wearing boots and a flannel shirt and John wondered if he had been waiting for him to go out on his nightly rounds.

Sticking his hands in his pockets, Eric tried to sound casual. “Umm, thought you might want some company?”

Wondering what was up, John gave him a nod. “Just checking the perimeter. You’re always welcome.”

They moved quietly out into the darkened woods and Eric couldn’t help but ask, “How can you tell where you’re going? It’s pitch black out here.”

“Years of practice. This isn’t my first time running a security force, Eric. I’m very good at it, you guys don’t need to worry.” The last thing John wanted was for their walk to alarm the boy.

“Yea,” Eric muttered. “I was talking to Sami and Carrie. They kind of told me about… stuff. I kind of figured you must be pretty good at this sort of thing.”

“Mm hm… What ‘sort of thing’ are you talking about?” John asked, sensing that this was why Eric had followed him into the woods.

“Stuff like killing people.” The boy was trying to sound flippant, but it came across as distinctly uncomfortable.

John let the silence hang, moving slowly through the dense underbrush. “Yea,” he finally said. “I am pretty good at ‘that sort of thing’.”

John’s words faded into the night air. Without reply, Eric simply concentrated on following the faint sounds that marked the passage of the man in front of him.

They covered threequarters of the perimeter in silence and it was beginning to wear on John’s nerves. He had gone over every possible horrid reason Eric had wanted to have this little talk and now he just wanted to get it over with. As they broke out of the treeline into a small meadow, John pulledup. Gesturing for Eric to catch up, he sank down on his heels at the edge of the tall grass. The boy’s face shone pale in the moonlight as John looked over at him.

“Eric, why exactly did you follow me out here. What is it you want to say?” he asked in a low tone, not wanting to announce their presence to the world.





Eric looked away, refusing to meet John’s eyes. Instead, he stared out over the field, the clearing shimmering under the white of the moon. “Sami says you’re going to come back home. Is that true?”

John’s lips pressed into a tight grimace. Marlena was right Sami still hadn’t accepted the reality of the situation.

When John didn’t answer, Eric continued haltingly. “It would be okay with me if you came home. I mean, if you were wondering… I would be all right with that.”

John couldn’t form a reply, the offer so unexpected, so at odds with the recrimination he had envisioned. “I wish I could.” The whisper of words escaped his lips without conscious thought. Seeing the grin spread across Eric’s face alerted John to his mistake.

“Eric, I wish I could, but I can’t. It just… it isn’t possible to go back to that. My being with you, it might endup getting somebody hurt,” he continued, more harshly than he intended. John’s chest tightened as he saw the beginnings of the smile replaced by a bitter grimace.

“Yea. Sure...whatever,” Eric replied woodenly.

“Eric, it isn’t because I don’t love you, or want to be with you. You do understand that, don’t you?” John asked, reaching out to clasp the young man’s shoulder.

Eric ducked his head, hiding his face in the arms he had crossed over his knees. Slowly, hesitantly, he looked up at John. “It’s just… I really miss you. I mean, playing ball. Watching the game on Sundays....” Eric sighed out a weak chuckle. “You letting me have a sip of your beer when mom’s not around. I really miss you. I want you to come home,” he finished, shrugging his shoulders in a gesture of helplessness.

This time, it was John’s turn to drop his gaze, unable to meet his son’s eyes. He wanted to say yes. Instead, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Eric. I can’t do that.”

Eric rubbed briefly at his eyes with his sleeve. Looking back over the meadow, he stood abruptly. “Well then, I guess we might at well go back to the house,” he stated, his voice cold. Without looking at John, he trudged forward to the cabin. 

-----

“Sami, he isn’t coming back. Now stop bugging me about it!” Eric said, rising from his perch on Carrie’s bed. “I do not want to have to go down there and eat breakfast with the man. I’ve embarrassed myself enough. I’m not going to go begging him on my knees!”

“Jeesh, Eric. I never told you to just walk up and just ask him to come home! Come on! He obviously has a few issues he’s dealing with here!” Sami shot back in exasperation from where she lay stretched out on the bed.

“Well, I don’t know why you have to turn everything into such a damn soap opera, Sami! I mean, if he wanted to be with us, he would come home. It’s that simple.”

“Don’t be so dense. I cannot believe we are related! If you would open your ears, you would realize… Dad keeps saying he ‘can’t’ come home. He never said he didn’t ‘want’ to. He just needs to be persuaded that we are safer with him than without him. And nobody is better at persuading him than Mom!”

Eric snorted, shaking his head. “Yea, that’s true. She pretty much could get him to do anything she wanted him to. Remember the Halloween she got him to dressup as Tarzan?”

Sami chuckled. “I don’t think I have ever seen anyone so embarrassed in my life! But when Mom came down in that ‘Jane’ getup, he didn’t say a word in complaint. Just gave her that big smile of his and trotted out the door behind her.”

In a gesture reminiscent of his father, Eric ran a hand through his short hair. Sighing, he gave in. “Okay… Maybe you are right. If Mom asked Dad to come home, he would. But do you really think that’s going to happen? I mean, she just found out that he killed that director guy with the ISA. From the little bit of the news I managed to watch, it was pretty gruesome!”

Sami shrugged indifferently. “Mom said he was the one behind the bombing. He made Mom lose the baby, Eric. He killed Roman. What would you expect Dad would do?”

“Damn! Remind me never to piss you off!” Eric said, grimacing. “Sami he cut the guy’s head off! I mean maybe, just possibly, he could have called the cops or something! Called Uncle Bo, at least. Even you have to admit, this was a bit extreme!”

Sami rolled her eyes up to stare at the ceiling. “Well, yeah maybe it was a little overboard. But you know he was just protecting Mom. When Dad was a cop, he had to kill somebody once. This isn’t really that different.”

“I’m not sure Mom sees it that way Sami. And even if she did, it does make him kind of scary. Maybe Mom doesn’t want him to come back.”

“Eric, tell me does the Y chromosome have ‘stupid’ written on it, or is it just you? All you have to do is open your eyes when they are in the same room. Any idiot could see that it kills Mom every time he walks away from her, that she lights up every time he comes back!”

“You know, Sami I think I just realized why you don’t have a boyfriend...”

With a smirk, she cut him off. “Thank you, Casanova. When I want dating advice, I’ll ask. Now come over here and help me figure out how we can get Mom and Dad back together.”

“I didn’t realize you were planning on carrying a shotgun as a regular thing, John,” Dimera commented as he walked onto the porch, nodding at the gun that rested against the rail.

Looking up from his coffee, John pawed at tired eyes. He had gotten no sleep the night before and had ended up going out to the woods a little after three in the morning. “I was walking the posts earlier. Had it with me, so I thought I might go down and shoot some skeet after I ate. You want to join me?” he asked, scratching at the rough stubble on his face.

“I would, but I have a conference call scheduled. The business doesn’t run itself, John,” Stefano replied as he stirred his coffee.

John managed a smile at that. “Shooting is my business, Stefano. Or had you forgotten?”

“I hadn’t realized I would be dining with John Wayne,” Dimera rejoined, sipping at the hot coffee.

John’s reply was cut off as Sami came bounding out the door, followed closely by her brother.

“What are you two doing here?” John asked uneasily, straightening in his chair.

“We are having breakfast. What are you doing?” Sami shot back with a smile.

John chuckled, slumping back into his seat. “Okay, smarty. Does your mom know you are here? And this time, I would like a straight answer.”

“Mom said it was all right. Really. Right, Eric?”

Looking slightly uncomfortable, Eric gave a shrug as he picked up a glass of juice. “She said we could come down for breakfast if we wanted. She just wants us to checkin if we go outside.”

“So… what are you guys planning to do today?”

“Actually, we were thinking we’d just check out the house. Maybe walk around a little...” Sami said.

“You mentioned there was a media room?” Eric added, dutifully playing his part. “We thought we could maybe watch movies tonight. The Marx brothers, or Monty Python or something.”

“Better yet, we could see “Something About Mary’ again. I love that one!” Sami said. She had really wanted them to watch Titanic it was just so romantic. However, Eric had pointed out that the guy does end up dying in the end and that maybe it really wasn’t such a great choice after all. She’d been forced to agree with him on that one.

“You guys have the run of the house. As long as it is okay with your mom, you can go downstairs anytime you like,” John said.

“Dad! We want to have a ‘movie night’. You know popcorn, movies, everybody there...” Sami trailed off, trying not to sound hurt.

John had known exactly what she meant, he’d just hoped she wouldn’t back him into a corner over it. “Sami, I don’t think your mom wants me around that much. I think it would be best if I didn’t come,” he said softly.

“Da… Uh, John. I really don’t want to be the only guy down there,” Eric said, studiously examining the muffin he was holding.

“It’s okay with Mom. Really!” Sami added.

Ignoring Dimera’s glare and the flush he could feel creeping up his neck at the thought of being around Marlena, he forced himself to sound casual. “Okay. How about seven o’clock?”

Sami beamed and Eric gave a shy smile. Feeling a vague sense of guilt, John got to his feet and pickedup the shotgun.

“Where’re you going?” Eric asked, his eyes bright.

“I thought I would do a little skeet shooting. Do you want to come along?” John said, surprised by Eric’s interest after their talk the night before.

Uncertainly, Eric nodded. “Yea, I would. If it’s all right?”

“I’d like it,” John replied. “But, you need to...”

“Ask your mother,” Sami parroted.

Her good humor was infectious and John couldn’t help but smile. “Please tell me you don’t want to come too? The thought of Sami Brady armed with a shotgun must, at this moment, be striking fear into the hearts of young men everywhere,” he teased.

“Why do I get no respect from the male gender?!” Sami responded, rolling her eyes. “No. You two go ahead. This sounds like a guy thing to me,” she said, giving her brother a smile.

“Go on, “ John said, with a nod at Eric. “I’ll meet you back here, I want to go get a 20 gauge for you to use.”





The two men took off together and against her better judgement, Sami allowed herself a satisfied grin. “Why is it that he never looks that happy when he’s with you, Stefano?”

Dimera simply studied the young woman across from him for a long moment, recognizing for the first time that she did make a formidable adversary. “He won’t leave me, Samantha. I won’t let him. People will only get hurt if you try and change that.”

“If you try and stop him, you’re the one who will get hurt,” Sami answered, with a confidence that was a match for Dimera’s own.

“I can’t believe your mother let you go see that movie!” John said, wiping the tears from his eyes and trying to catch his breath. “Saddam Hussein and Satan as lovers...” he again broke into laughter. “Did this film have any redeeming features?”

Eric unrepentantly shook his head. “Not a one. It was truly horrible and I loved every minute. You have to see it, Dad. Really!”

Distracted by the conversation, they were almost to the porch before John noticed Marlena sitting there, watching them walk in. She was dressed in faded jeans and a white silk shirt that draped casually off of her shoulders. Her hair was loose, random strands twisted about by the gentle breeze. He realized he was staring and he felt his face begin to flush.

“Hey,” he said, looking up at her from the bottom of the stairs. “I wasn’t expecting to see you down here.”





She couldn’t help the smile that his appearance brought so she didn’t bother trying. “I decided I couldn’t stand being in that room for another minute. You told me it might be a couple of weeks before this is over and we can leave so I decided I might as well try and relax, enjoy the end of the summer.”

“This is a good place for that...” he answered, bobbing his head and trying to think of something intelligent to say. “Um… the weather is really great this time of year.”

“The weather. Yes, the weather is nice...” she answered distractedly.

Eric simply watched with amusement as the two adults in his life acted like school girls with crushes. He hated to admit it, but Sami was a lot smarter than she looked. Wanting to give them some space, he muttered a quick, “See ya later,” and trotted to the door.

“I think we bored him,” Marlena said with a laugh, watching as her son retreated into the recesses of the lodge.

“I’m not much of a conversationalist,” John said ruefully as he climbed the stairs. Hesitantly, he eased himself down into the chair opposite Marlena.

“You seemed to be doing all right with Eric a moment ago. Was everything okay between you two?”

“Yea. Yea, it was,” he said, sounding surprised. “Everything was good. We didn’t really talk about anything, just spent time together. I really miss him...” he finished awkwardly, wishing he hadn’t brought it up.

“It’s been hard on him, John. He’s the only man in the house now. I think that hit him hard. It would be good for him if you two can make peace.”

With a bitter snort of laughter, he met her eyes. “I hadn’t realized we were at war. But, yea… This was good. I hated knowing I had hurt him, hurt him so bad he hated me. It was nice to let that go for a while.”

“Maybe it’s time we all made peace, John. I don’t want to fight with you anymore,” she said softly.

This time, his chuckle was genuine. “How can I fight with you, Marlena? You’re always right it would be pointless.”

“Well, I’m glad you realize that, John! Now, would you mind showing me around this compound of yours? I’ve been coopedup inside for way too long.”

Rising to his feet, he gave a small bow. “It would be my honor,” he said, gesturing for her to lead the way down the steps. As they walked out beneath the morning sun, he left the shotgun where it lay.

Marlena curled on the sofa, watching him as he lay on the floor next to Eric. Their poses were identical, stretched out on their stomachs and propped up by their elbows. The big bowl of popcorn between them was rapidly dwindling as they kept up a running commentary on the show. While the video collection had been rather sparse, they had found an old favorite, “Monty Python’s Search for the Holy Grail”, and were busy repeating lines they knew by heart. She allowed her eyes to travel the room, glancing down at Carrie, propped against the opposite end of the couch, her attention fixed on the television. Sami lay across an overstuffed chair, appearing completely content as she absently flicked popcorn kernels at her brother, trying to get one to stick in his hair.

The fleeting nature of this moment was a sadness she forced her mind to turn from. After a long sleepless night, she had decided she was tired of pushing him away. Tired of patrolling the walls she had built to keep him out. He would always be a part of her. A part of her family. Even if he could never come back to them, he would still hold a place in their hearts. She had decided to use the time at the cabin to gain some closure, collect some happy memories before they returned to build a life without him. Watching as he joked with his son, she could not bring herself to regret the decision. 

-----

“Baseball mitts. You want me to get baseball mitts,” Jensen replied, his expression disdainful.

“Yea. Baseball mitts. You know. Big leather gloves. People use them to catch baseballs. Any sports store will have them,” John replied, grinning at Jensen’s perplexed expression.

“Sir. In my tenure here, I have procured many items for you and for Mr. Dimera. Weapons, explosives, women if I remember, I was once even asked to obtain a ‘pound of dank’ as you put it. I do not believe you have ever requested ‘baseball mitts’ before.”

“Times change, Jensen get with the program. I need baseball mitts.”

“Baseball mitts… Of course, sir.”

Marlena awoke smiling, the scent of fresh brewed coffee wafting in to her from the sitting room. John had taken to bringing up a fresh pot every morning and then sitting with the kids as they made plans for the day. It wasn’t coffee in bed, but it was the next best thing. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she crawled out of bed and tossed a robe on over the sheer white nightgown she had slept in. Moving stiffly, she went to get a cup before taking her morning shower.

“Mornin,” she drawled, surprised to find him sitting alone on the sofa.

“Howdy,” he replied, flashing her a grin. “Well, stop the presses. Dr. Marlena Evans is actually out of bed before her children. This is one for the record books!”

Sitting back, he watched with pleasure as she walked through the room. He loved the way she looked when she was fresh from sleep the artless beauty, the dreamy sensuality. With a start, he pulled himself back to the present and tried to ignore the flash of leg that peeked from beneath the gauzy material of her gown. Realizing he hadn’t heard a word she’d said to him, he simply grunted an “Um hm,” in response to her questioning look.

“‘Um hm’ what?” she asked, a mischievous look in her eyes.

“‘Um hm’ to whatever you said,” he answered sheepishly.

“I said, you really pooped them out. You guys were gone all day, hiking up to the mountain. They were exhausted last night when they got in.”

“Yea, I’m feeling it myself. I swear, they can run me into the ground, now. They grew up so quick I forget they aren’t little kids anymore. I was so lucky to have them in my life,” he finished with a small sigh.

“You were a good father to them,” she answered softly. “We raised three beautiful children together, John. They were lucky to have you for a father. You will always be a part of them, a part of who they are.”

Staring into the steaming mug he held in his hand, he contemplated her words and prayed that she was wrong. “I’m sorry, Marlena. Sorry for everything I stole from you. From the children. I tricked you into letting me into your life. Tricked you into… into caring for me. I had no right to be with you.” He shifted guiltily and fought the urge to flee, the urge to hide from the hurt he had caused her. He knew she could never forgive what he had done, but he still craved her absolution.





She looked down on his bowed head, struck by how alone he now was. For fourteen years, he had raised their children, slept in her bed. Now he was reduced to stolen moments of time, stolen moments that would soon come to an end. Sitting across from him, she resisted the impulse to take him into her arms. “You have nothing to be sorry for, John. You didn’t know who you were when you came to me. You are no more at fault than I am. I’m the one who told you that you were Roman. It was my decision to bring you into my life. The fault doesn’t lie in you, John.”

He gave a sharp shake of his head. “I should have known I wasn’t Roman. I should have realized that I wasn’t a man you could love. I didn’t see it because I didn’t want to see it, Marlena.”

He raised his head and she found herself caught in the haunted depths of his eyes. Her heart would not allow him to believe such a lie and she spoke without thinking. “I didn’t fall in love with you because I thought you were Roman. I fell in love with you despite who I thought you were. I have never loved anyone like I loved you. I never will.”





Her soft words cut him like no knife ever could. The anger washed over him and he sprang to his feet. Stalking stiffly away from her, he tried to distance himself from the ache her presence created. “You would never have loved me if you had known what I was. If you had known the things I had done, you would have run as far and as fast as you could.” He grated the words out, hating himself for what he had done to her. Hating the fact that he knew he would do it all again.

He was right. She would have run. If she had known what he was, she would have put oceans between them. Yet her heart told her it wouldn’t have mattered. In the end, only death would have kept them apart. Despite her better judgement, she went to him, stopping only when she reached his side. “I hate what you’ve done, John. I hate that you’ve killed that you killed for Stefano. But I know you. I know you as no one else ever could. John, that isn’t who you are. The man who raised my children, the man who shared my life he was a good man. He was the man I wanted to grow old with. That man is a part of you, John. You could be that man again.”

He heard the longing in her voice and realized his folly. He would give her anything. Anything she asked. Anything but this. He shook his head, cursing the day he was born. Gently, he reached out and pushed a strand of golden hair from her face. “You should be home. You should be home with your husband and your children. You should never have been touched by this ugliness. But I brought you to this, Marlena. I brought you to this ugly place because it is what I am. Pain and blood and death it’s what I was born to, Doc. I’m sorry if I ever made you believe otherwise.”

Her eyes widened, unshed tears making them brighten in a bitter parody of joy. He dropped his hand from her face and turned away. “I’m meeting with Stefano in a few minutes. We should be moving on the Brotherhood soon. You’ll be home within the week Marlena, and you won’t have to worry about me or Dimera again.”

“Hey! What ya thinkin’ about,” Carrie called, joining him beneath the branches of a large old Maple tree. Leaning against the rough bark, his attention was fixed on the baseball he was tossing casually into the air.

“Trying not to think,” he replied with a small grin. Breaking his rhythm, John tossed the ball over to Carrie.

With a nod of understanding, Carrie lobbed the ball back and sank down beside John on the grass. Their shoulders touching, she relaxed against the tree and studied the surrounding meadowland.

“You picked a good spot for that,” she said. “What is it that you’re ‘not’ thinking about?”

He chuckled and tossed the ball high into the air, watching it as it hit its zenith, hanging for a moment high in the air before crashing back to the earth. The leather slapped hard against his hand as it landed and with a sigh he dropped the ball onto the dirt beneath him. “I hurt your mother,” he finally answered. “I always hurt her, even though it is the last thing on earth that I want to do.”

“She was crying,” Carrie replied uncertainly. “When I got up this morning, she was crying. She tried to pretend she wasn’t. When I asked what had happened, she just said she was happy. She was happy because you told her we would go home soon. But… she didn’t look happy.”

The last of the bright leaves danced in the breeze, their soft rustling lulling his mind. “She wants me to be something I’m not,” he muttered. “She keeps clinging to this illusion, this fantasy that I’m still the same. She knows better, but she still tries to believe. I think she blames Stefano, thinks he turned me into something… made me be something I’m not. She won’t see that the sickness is inside me, it’s not something I can choose, something I can… excise.” In exasperation, he grabbed the ball and flung it far out into the field.

She chuckled at his phrasing, picking absently at the grass around her. “That’s what Sami thinks. Eric too. They think you’re just protecting them. Protecting Mom. I think Sami sees you as ‘Supercop’ or something I keep expecting her to knit you a cape.”

“How about you? What do you think” he asked, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

Sitting forward, she tilted her head to face him. “I think you still like it. I think you still like to kill. I think it makes you feel good and I don’t think you ever feel guilty about it.”

Startled, he looked over at her. Her eyes were clear and calm and for an instance he would have sworn she must be his blood. Finally, he grinned. “Well I am starting to feel guilty that I don’t feel guilty. That’s got to count for something.”

“Very faint praise,” she replied, once again leaning back against the rough wood.

“How’d you get so smart?”

“I did what you said,” she replied, twirling a long blade of grass between her fingers. “I thought about what you told me. About everything that I knew. I finally figured it out.”

“Enlighten me,” he prodded, curious despite himself.

“Well… I thought about how you met Stefano. About what he did to you while you were on that island. I thought about what you did to bring Mom home to us. What you are doing now to protect all of us. I figured it out. You’re scared. Your whole life, you’ve always been scared. And the only time you aren’t scared… I think you fight because it’s the only time you aren’t scared.” She studied the blade of grass as it whirled between her fingers. “Anyway, that’s what I think.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever accused me of being afraid,” he said wryly.

“I’m not anyone I’m your daughter. I can see it in your eyes. Every time you look at Marlena. Every time you look at Sami, or Eric, or me. Every time, it’s like your watching, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for something to take us away from you. I told you I’ve lost a lot of people I loved, so I know that look. I’ve worn it myself. You’re afraid you’re going to lose us, so you push us away. I know what that feels like.”

“You are too young to have so much experience with loss,” he said, studying the ground between his feet.

“So were you,” she answered, searching his face. “You never did tell my why you were all alone when Stefano found you.”

“Nope, I never did,” he admitted with a smile, tilting his head in order to catch her eye. “You know what’s worse than always fearing you are going to lose the people you love? What’s worse is knowing that you are the one who will destroy them.”

She shook her head, her voice a whisper. “You would never do that, Dad. I know that you would never do anything that would harm us.”

Giving an ugly chuckle, he looked away from the innocence he found in her eyes. “Do you ever wonder, ever think that sometimes God is angry? And in his anger, he spits out a curse?”

“I don’t believe in curses,” she replied, watching him as he levered himself to his feet.

Looking down at her, he flashed a small smile. “Stick with me and you will.”

-----

“Sami, of course I got you a glove too! I am not the misogynist you and your mother are always making me out to be!” John said as he tossed her a glove from the big bag Jensen held open.

“What’s a misogynist?” Bryce asked from his perch on the railing, watching the proceedings with interest.

“Basically, think male chauvinist pig, Bryce. You’re probably familiar with that term,” John replied.

“Hey! Not me. I’m one of those crunchygroovy new age types. I do my own laundry,” Bryce answered in a wounded tone, all the while being very careful not to let his eyes wander in Carrie’s direction.

“Good God, Jensen how many bloody gloves did you think we needed?” John asked, distracted by the seemingly never ending supply in the big shopping bag.

“You wanted mitts, you got mitts,” Jensen answered haughtily. “Besides, I thought you might want to round out the team. I have played the occasional game, you know.”

John had not known. Jensen had been a fixture in Dimera’s house ever since John could remember. The thought of him sliding facefirst into a base was inconceivable. “You play baseball?!”

“Well, ‘play’ might be too weak a term. I prefer to think of what I do on the diamond as ‘art’,” Jensen answered blandly.

Sensing a challenge, John smiled. “Do you now? Bryce, why don’t you see if any of the boys want to join in. Looks like we got ourselves a game.”

Marlena stepped onto the back porch and was greeted by the crack of a bat. Her smile faded quickly and she nodded coldly at Dimera, moving to sit in the chair furthest from him. It was the first time she had seen him in days and she had almost managed to banish his presence from her mind.

“You look lovely as always, Marlena.”

Irritated, she forced herself to face him. “Stefano, please. I came out to watch my children. I have no desire to engage in one of your stupid mind games.”

“And a good afternoon to you too,” he replied, nodding amicably.

She didn’t bother with an answer, turning her attention to the game. With a wistful smile, she watched John gleefully slap Sami a highfive for completing a double play from her post on first base.

“He’s changed. The time he spent as Roman he isn’t the man he used to be,” Stefano said quietly.

Made curious by the man’s reflective tone, Marlena couldn’t help but ask, “Changed for better or worse, in your opinion?”

Dimera released a dry chuckle. “A little of both, I would say. You know, I think he is even more ruthless now. More dangerous. Can you believe, he even suggested we attempt to destroy the entire ISA when he learned that the Brotherhood represented a threat to you? I almost let him. I actually thought he might pull it off.”

“You must be very proud of what you created.”

Dimera looked back at her with an amused grin. “Oh, I can’t take the credit for what he is, Marlena. I just made sure he survived to realize his potential. You really should thank me, you know. He would have selfdestructed long ago if I hadn’t taken him in.”

“Gratitude is not what I feel toward you, Stefano. You don’t know how many times I have wished I were a better shot,” she replied, glaring at him with blazing eyes.

“John would have probably killed you if you had succeeded. Do you realize that?” he said, tired of being the monster in her little fantasy. “He was never one for killing women, but I’ve known him to make exceptions. You should have seen him when he came home from Europe to find me on the brink of death! He wanted blood, Marlena.”

She ignored the ugly words and looked back to the field, to her children, laughing as they played with the violent young men that John had surrounded himself with. “He would never hurt me. Never.”

Dimera was forced into a reluctant nod. “No. Not now… I told you, he has changed.”

Stefano sat on the porch, nursing a glass of port and enjoying the last cigar of the day. In the distance, he saw John’s lithe form cutting through the tall grass, a big turkey hen slung over his shoulder. “Good hunting, I see!”

A broad grin on his face, John leaped the stairs to the porch and lay the bird down on the deck. “Yea. A nice hen. I’m going to leave it to Jensen to pluck this sucker. I owe him one for homering on me,” he said with a laugh. “Hell, I even had a shot at a deer. Nice eight point buck. Passed it up, though. Figured the kids would eat the turkey but that I’d never hear the end of it if I shot a deer. The mere thought of Sami, going on and on about me killing Bambi… Ugh!”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with them, haven’t you?” Stefano noted, keeping his tone even.

John tensed. “Yea. Some.”

Seeing that John had no intention of elaborating, Stefano continued. “The baseball game this afternoon was impressive. I wouldn’t have thought that Marlena would allow her children to interact with my men. I suppose she trusts your judgement. Personally, I would not have allowed it. Neither would I allow myself to get so close to them, knowing that it will make it that much harder when they leave. Or were you planning on keeping them here indefinitely? You could tell Marlena that the danger still exists, even after we have eliminated the Brotherhood.”

“Don’t be insulting, Stefano. That is something you would do!” John replied, unconsciously tightening his grip on his shotgun.

“Of course it is something I would do. Don’t be obtuse. I get what I want, John. You know that. If I want Marlena, I will have her. Eventually, she might even choose to be with me. How would you react to that?” Dimera asked, an ugly smile on his face.

“Hell, Stefano! Admit it. Half of the attraction is the fact that she doesn’t want you. You could have almost any woman you desire. You’ve had more beautiful women than I can count. Part of the attraction is the fact that she doesn’t want you and she never will!”

“The fact that she used to love me, that just makes it worse, doesn’t it?"John goaded. “You know she actually fell in love with me when we both thought I was you. I should have recognized then that there was no possible way I could be the ‘Phoenix’!”

Stefano shrugged, acknowledging the truth in the words. “Half of the joy of conquest is the difficulty of the challenge, John. If she could fall in love with the ‘Phoenix’ once, she could do it again.”

John groaned and shook his head. “How much do I not want to be having this conversation with you, Stefano?”

“We will have this conversation for as long as it takes for you to realize, you are not going back to Marlena. The time you spend with them here is an illusion. It isn’t real. I don’t want you to forget that.” .

“I know that, dammit! Christ! Can’t you allow me this time with them?” John propped his gun against the rail, not wanting the temptation of the heavy metal in his hands. “You set this into motion, Stefano. You left me with them for fourteen long years! Don’t bitch because it’s hard for me to let them go!”

John was pissed, his anger more at himself than at Dimera. He knew that being with them now was only going to hurt them all more later. He should have settled for making peace with them and then stayed away. That wasn’t Stefano’s fault, it was his own. Hell maybe he would get lucky and take a bullet when they went after the rest of the Brotherhood. It would solve all of their problems. He rubbed his hand across his eyes. Smelt the gun powder that lingered on his skin a fitting signature for what he was, a reminder of what he couldn’t be.

“I know I can’t go back,” John said more calmly. “I know I can never be a part of her life. As long as you recognize that you never will be either, we have no argument.”

As he turned to carry his kill into the kitchen, Stefano’s parting words followed him. “I hope you know what you are doing, John. Now is not the time for mistakes.”

Marlena sat, sipping at a warm mug of herbal tea and considering going to bed. She looked up as Carrie emerged from the small bathroom off of the main suite and padded over to sit with her. Her hair still damp from her bath, she looked like a little girl.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” Carrie asked in concern.

Marlena suppressed a chuckle at how grownup her little baby really was. “I’m fine, Carrie. Why?”

Carrie gave a small shrug. “I was talking to John earlier. I thought maybe… maybe he scared you. What he is now. What he is capable of doing,” she tapered off, watching her mother’s face.

Marlena knitted her brow, surprised by the question. “Does he scare you, Carrie?”

“What he’s done… Yea. That scares me. He’s done things Dad would never have condoned. I mean, John, when he was our dad. Ugh! It’s too confusing to even talk about!” Carrie said, grimacing. “What I mean is, he isn’t the same. I know that. I just figured the things he’s done must make you afraid of him. I guess that’s why you don’t want him to come back home. Right?”

“The things he has done...” Marlena sighed. “That doesn’t scare me, Carrie it saddens me. I know he would never do anything to hurt any of us. You know that too, don’t you?”

“Well, yea! You should have heard what he told Bryce he would do if he ever caught him around me!” She replied with a laugh. “Really! Bryce was scared, but I thought it was kind of sweet. I knew he was just doing it to protect me. I never thought Dad would hurt us. I just sort of assumed you did...”

“And just when exactly were you talking to Bryce, young lady!” Marlena asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Jeesh, Mom. You’re as bad as Dad! He is way too old for me and I’m not interested in the slightest. He’s just a nice guy and he was around one day when I was eating lunch. And please don’t tell Dad! He really might go off the deep end!”

Marlena forced herself to relax. “Okay. I won’t tell ‘your dad’ but it had better not happen again.”





Carrie flushed. “It won’t. Don’t worry. But Mom, if you aren’t afraid of John, why do you keep him at a distance? Why don’t you ask him to come home? You know Sami is right. If you asked him to come back, I think he would do it.”

“Carrie, I thought you would understand this. John isn’t the same man, he can’t be a part of our lives anymore.”

“I never said he was the same. He isn’t I know that. But he still loves us. If you aren’t afraid of him, why can’t he come home? There aren’t any legal charges against him. At least, none that could be proven if he brought us home. What’s to prevent him from coming back?” Carrie asked, wanting to understand her mother’s reasoning.

Exasperated, she threw her hands into the air. “How many reasons do you want, Carrie? He works for Stefano Dimera! His occupation is ‘hired assassin’!”

“So he can quit! That makes it even better because it’s sure to tick Stefano off. Mom, I’m not seeing the problem here. If you asked John to come home to Salem, he would. Don’t you want that?”

This discussion was giving her a pounding headache and it didn’t help that it was her reasonable child that was doing the arguing. “Carrie, it doesn’t have anything to do with what I want or what John wants or even what you want. We can’t go back to the way things were, it’s impossible.”

“Why?”


“It just is, Carrie.”

“Doesn’t seem like a very good reason to me,” Carrie replied.

“What are you two up to now?” Carrie asked, finding the twinners once again immersed in furtive discussion.

“Nothing!” Sami chimed innocently.

Carrie rolled her eyes. Why did everyone in her family insist on making things difficult?! Her brother and sister stared impishly back at her, as if waiting for her to find fault. Instead, she shrugged her shoulders and said, “Well, if that ‘nothing’ has anything to do with getting Mom and Dad back together count me in!”

-----

John walked into the kitchen, surprised by the sight of Carrie standing in front of the stove. “Since when do you volunteer for kitchen duty?” he asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Since Stefano told me he had sent Jensen out to take care of some business for him. I thought I’d try my hand at some pancakes,” she replied with a smile.

“Well, it sure smells good.” Coming closer, he peered over her shoulder. “They look great! Want me to grab some plates?”

“Please,” she nodded. “Of course, this is my second batch. You can check out my first attempt they’re in the garbage pail!”

Chuckling, he brought over a serving plate, holding it for Carrie as she piled the pancakes high.

“Well, this looks familiar,” came a voice from the door. Marlena, dressed in jeans and a denim shirt, headed directly to the coffee pot. “Hope you haven’t lost your touch with a frying pan.”

“Hey, don’t look at me!” John replied, placing the plate on the counter. “My chef’s hat has been usurped.”

“Are we eating in here or out on the porch?” Sami asked, walking in trailed closely by her brother.

“The porch,” John and Marlena answered simultaneously.

“Well, the rain finally stopped and we should enjoy it,” John added. “There’s a cold front moving in tonight. We may as well appreciate the last of the warm days. Winter comes in quickly up here.”

With everyone pitching in, they quickly moved the feast to the back porch. Dimera was already there, staring out at the sundrenched fields. A cup of coffee in his hands, he puffed thoughtfully on his morning cigar.

“Hope that’s not all you were planning on having,” John called to him, setting the serving plate in the center of the table.

Dimera turned, quirking an eyebrow as he saw the juice and fruit being laid out beside the pancakes on the table. “I hadn’t realized we had a substitute cook on the premises. It looks good. My compliments to the chef.”

“Thank you,” Carrie replied, bringing up the rear and giving him a nod of acknowledgment.

“So what’s everybody up to today,” Sami asked cheerfully, plopping into a padded chair.

“I should probably start catching up on some paperwork. It’s starting to pile up on me,” John replied over a forkfull of pancake.

“On a day like this? You should be outside. Maybe we could take Mom up and show her the lake,” Sami said. “You’d love it Mom. It was a great hike.”

John fastened his eyes on Marlena’s face, uncertain whether he wanted her to say yes or no.

He felt his face flush when she nodded.

“That does sound like a good idea, Sami. Count me in. How about the rest of you?” Marlena asked, looking around the table.

“I’m in,” Eric said.

“Carrie?”

Carrie stared quizzically at her sister, starting as she realized she had been asked a question. “Um, let me see. I think I might be doing something. I’m into this book...”

“Well, you can always change your mind. Now, if we are going to go, I really should get some work done,” John said, rising to his feet. “How about we meet back down here at noon?” Receiving no disagreement, he headed up to the study.

John looked up from Dimera’s desk, startled by the older man’s entrance.

“I am going to have to get you a desk of your own in here,” Stefano said mildly. Waving John back into his seat, he sat in one of the padded chairs set before the desk.

Giving Dimera a distracted nod, John turned back to the papers in his hand. “We’re close, Stefano. A few more days, a week at the outside. We should get ready to move,” he said, looking up to catch the old man studying him.

“You really want this to be over, don’t you?”

“The brotherhood is a threat. I want them gone the faster the better,” John replied, not seeing the problem.

“John, when the Brotherhood is gone, so is she. You did mean that, didn’t you?”

“Of course I meant it! Stefano… All I care is that she is safe. What I may, or may not want is irrelevant,” John said, his eyes narrowing.

“Okay. Okay...” Stefano placated. “I meant no offense. I just wanted to be certain I knew where you stood.”

“Well, now you know,” John said shortly, immersing himself once more in the paperwork.

“And yet, you are still going to go out on a picnic with the family,” Dimera said, unwilling to let the matter drop. “John! Those children want you back in Salem with them. They are not overly subtle about it! They think you are going to go home with them and it is time you made them understand that is not going to happen.”

“For fuck’s sake, will you get off me about the kids, Stefano!” John said, slamming his pen down on the table. Shooting to his feet, he stalked to the bar and poured a stiff drink. “Damn you’re even hanging out with them now. You don’t have any room to criticize.”

Stefano snorted. “John, I would hardly say I am ‘hanging out’ with Marlena’s children. I hardly see them beyond breakfast and the occasional dinner as, I may add, you ‘suggested’. However, I was surprised when you did not protest my watching the football game with you and Eric last night.”

John shrugged. “I didn’t want to fight about it at dinner. Besides, Marlena didn’t seem to object. Hell, I actually kind of enjoyed it. I mean, I never said you were bad father, Stefano. Believe me, I know the difference. It’s not like you ‘perverted my innocence’ or something. Your own kids, they keep their noses clean. Hell, I even like Tony.”

“Ah, Anthony. He did turn out to be a fine man, didn’t he? Of course, some would suggest the fact that I was around them so rarely might be why they turned out so well,” Stefano commented without rancor.

“Yea, well there is that,” John replied. “Still, I don’t think there’s much reason for me to worry about the kids picking you as a role model not that you wouldn’t be an improvement over me… Still, it worries Marlena.”

Stefano smiled grimly. “Yes, I do seem to make her a bit nervous.”

“Well, you did kidnap her about 80 times and then there was that time she thought you killed her husband, the time she shot you, the time you impregnated her shall I go on?”

“Your flair for exaggeration is not one of your more endearing qualities, John,” Stefano replied with a grimace.

“I have so few good qualities. One has to work with what their given,” John stated with the ghost of a grin.

“How you ever managed to raise a boy like Eric… He is a very impressive young man, John.”

John couldn’t help a proud smile. “Yea. I think he was even tolerating you by the end of the game! He really is a good kid, isn’t he?”

“Nothing at all like you were,” Stefano could not help but note.

John chuckled at the comparison. “No, I was never a good kid, was I? Sometimes, I don’t know how you kept from strangling me with your bare hands. God, remember the time I got piss drunk on your best scotch and decided to take the Mercedes out for a spin! I swear, I thought you were going to have an aneurism when you found out I crashed it through the front gates!”

“Yes. I distinctly remember considering selling you to a whorehouse at that point,” Stefano replied, failing to see the humor.

“Gee. Aren’t you glad you didn’t?” John smirked.

“Only infrequently.” Stefano sighed, studying the younger man who leaned amicably against the bar. “John, I do not want this to end ugly. And it will get ugly if you try to go with them. Do you understand me?”

John merely nodded and sipped at his drink. “I won’t go back, Stefano. I’m not stupid enough to think I could be a part of their lives. You are the only person I have touched and not destroyed. The only one strong enough to resist whatever Gods I appear to have pissed off. I won’t bring that misery down on the kids. I promise you.”

He ran down the stairs, silently cursing himself. “Sorry, I’m late. Had to take a call,” he apologized, jumping down the last three steps. Looking around, he found only Marlena, smiling at him with a bemused expression.

“Where is everybody?” John asked. “I’m not that late!”

Marlena chuckled. “I think the children are conspiring. Carrie decided that she just had to finish this cheesy romance novel. Even less convincing was the excuse Sami and Eric gave. They told me they were playing the ‘World’s Championship Monopoly Game’ and couldn’t make it either.”

“Umm… okay,” he muttered vaguely. Shifting uncomfortably, he wasn’t certain what she was getting at.

“Of course, I think a hike sounds great, so...” She looked at him expectantly.

“Umm… okay,” he repeated, nodding his head up and down like the village idiot. Making his body stand still through sheer force of will, he realized that what he wanted most desperately in life at this moment was to jump into that big lake of icy water. Taking a deep breath, he jogged toward the kitchen, refusing to make eye contact with her. “Then we better make some lunch and get going,” he called over his shoulder. “The faster we get up there the better.”

She sat, staring out across the still waters. It was incredible. They had hiked out of the deep woods into a field of high grass. Whitegold with the coming of winter, it surged like the tide in the gentle breeze. They had moved through the waves, leaving a wake of crushed fronds. Their paths sometimes converging, sometimes not, they had walked in companionable silence until they had topped the hill and Marlena had seen the lake, sparkling in the distance. She had stopped then and shot him a look, a silent challenge. As one, they had torn off down the hill, racing to be the first one in.

Marlena chuckled as she realized what this place had reminded her of. “I know why Sami suggested we come out here,” she said. Giving a contented sigh, she stretched out on the big rock beside John. He was laying on his stomach, chin cradled in his hands, the drops of water still glittering against his tanned skin.

“Why’s that?” he muttered sleepily, breaking her out of her revery.

“Doesn’t it remind you of anything?”

Refusing to turn and meet her eyes, he simply mumbled, “Maybe. What’s it remind you of?”

Reclining on her back, she closed her eyes and let the memories wash over her. “It was a long time ago. Right after we first discovered… first thought that you were Roman. Back before the time I went down in the plane crash. We were walking in the woods, just the two of us. And we came out into a big meadow filled with wildflowers, a lake in the center. Right out there, in the middle of that field, you pulled me down into the flowers and we made love beside the lake… We were so happy, then. So at peace. Do you remember, John?”

“I remember everything I’ve ever done with you.”

The sense of longing in his voice caused her to open her eyes. “This must be so hard for you,” she said with sudden realization. “Being with me, with the children...”

“No,” he said, almost to himself. “No, this has been easy. Leaving again that will be hard.” Retreating into the recesses of his own mind, he pushed away all thoughts of the future. A future without them. He would not face that reality until he had to.

Slowly, almost without realizing she was doing it, she reached over and trailed a single finger along his spine. He lay immobile, as if carved from the stone itself. She allowed her finger to travel downward, slowly circling the ugly scar low on his left side. The entry wound from the bullet he had taken getting her and Roman out of Dimera’s compound. A sign of what he was willing to sacrifice for her.





Against her will, her eyes and her hand strayed to his shoulder. Traced the black wings of the Phoenix, raised in triumph as it emerged from the flames. A sign of ownership, branded into his flesh long before she had ever known him. Beneath her hand, he began to tremble, and a low moan she felt more than heard split the silence.

“Doc, please stop,” he ground out, squeezing his eyes tight shut. Trying to maintain his control. Trying to ignore the burning where her flesh had met his.

She held the contact for another long second before reluctantly pulling away. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Staring down at him, the grief washed over her. Tears sprang to eyes and she realized she could not lose him again she would not lose him again. The words flowed unbidden from her lips. “You don’t have to leave.”

Once released, the invitation hung in the air. Time seemed to slow and she repeated softly, “You don’t have to leave us. You could come back when this is over. Come home, John. I know it is what you want. It’s what I want too.”

She saw the tracks of tears glistening on his cheeks, but the only reply he made was a shake of his dark head.

“John?”

His tears were flowing freely now, but his response was wooden. “No.”

She could feel his agony, it was a palpable thing. She wanted nothing more than to take him into her arms, rock him gently, as she had the children after a bad dream. Afraid of his reaction, she held back. “Why not?”

As the seconds stretched on, she thought he would not respond, that he would wrap himself in his own misery and shut her out.

Reluctantly, he broke the silence.

“Everyone I love, dies. Everyone I try and protect.” The words were said so softly that she had to strain to hear them.

“John, the baby wasn’t your fault. There was no way you could have known. Nothing you could have done. No one blames you for that,” she said, trying to ease his pain.

Abruptly he rolled over. Away from her. Putting his hands behind his head, he stared up into the sun. “It’s not just the baby, Doc.”

“Then what is it?” she asked, watching his face. Searching his eyes. Seeing them darken with remembered sorrow.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“If this is what is keeping you from me, from your family, I want to know. I deserve to know,” she replied gently.

He lost himself in the blazing yellow sun. Wishing its fire would come down, cleanse his soul with its flames and burn away his many sins. Suppressing a groan, he turned his thoughts to the first time he had failed someone he loved.

“No one knows. Not even Stefano...” he began, his voice detached. “It was long before I came to Dimera. I was a kid. Living in New York City. A Russian enclave we called it ‘Little Moscow’. Anyway, I don’t know what happened to my parents. I was raised by ‘Uncle Mike’,” John said with distaste. “I was little when I went to him. Don’t really remember it. I was three maybe four years old. So I was with Uncle Mike. I never have figured out why. The man always hated me. Told me he wasn’t really my uncle. Wasn’t my blood. I think now, someone paid him to do it. I don’t know…

“Uncle Mike was not the nicest of men. I guess about the best that could be said about my childhood was that he didn’t care what I did, as long as I stayed away from him. When I didn’t, when he was drunk which was usually he had a tendency to beat on me. Even broke my arm once. I remember that one. Only time he ever took me to the hospital...” John trailed off, lost for a moment in the memory.

“Okay, so Mike was a bastard. But I learned how to stay away most of the time. And I was getting fast enough, he had trouble catching me. So everything was pretty much all right. And then Kat came into my life.” He smiled faintly and shook his head.

“I was nine years old when she came to live with us. Katherine was her name. I never really figured out why she was there either. I remember the first time I saw her. I came in from school, and snuck back to the little room that was mine. Somehow, Mike had managed to cram a cot into the corner. She was sitting there watching me. This tiny little thing. Just seven years old, watching me with these big blue eyes. Blue like the sky today. Like you just wanted to lose yourself in them.

“Anyway, one day she was just there. Mike told me she was my new sister, though nobody in their right mind would believe it. Here I was, this black hair, big for my age a tough, wiry kid, full of attitude. She was my opposite. She was small, delicate even, with straight whiteblond hair that fell halfway down her back. And she just had this gentleness about her. She was so at peace with herself...” He laughed softly. “I used to call her ‘my angel’. Especially when things were bad. It always cheered her up.

“At the time… Well, at the time, the one ‘fatherly’ thing Mike did do was make us go to church. Russian Orthodox. Every week. So I… I believed. And in my heart, I used to think that God had sent her to me. Sent her to save me.” Again, he stopped. Stared at the sky in silence. The quiet lasted until Marlena wondered if he would continue. But he was lost in the telling of the story, the words themselves demanding release, and his voice again broke the peace of the wilderness

“The only bad thing about it, I had to be at home more. I wouldn’t leave her alone with Mike. I either took her with me, or I stayed home. Mike only tried to hit her once when I was around. It was right after she came. We were eating dinner and he was actually home for once. As kids do, Kat spilled a glass. Mike didn’t even think about it, he just slapped her across her face. Knocked her out of the chair.

“He did that… When he hit her, I wanted him dead. I grabbed a knife off the table and went for his chest. He was a big guy, and strong. Real strong. Well, he got hold of my arm. I missed his chest, but slashed him a good one across his face. Almost took an eye...”

“When I came to, it was dark. He’d locked me in the closet. I kind of freaked out a little. I was hurt. I thought I was going to die in there. Locked in a closet in the dark, the roaches crawling around in the corners. Anyway, Kat let me out. I stuck around the house for a couple of days, healing up. He didn’t come home for a long time. I think I scared him. I think he was scared to go to sleep around me for a long time. It was the only time he hit her, though.”

“So this went on. Actually, it was okay. I had the routine down. We were surviving. Then, one day when I was 12, Kat got sick. A bad flue bug. I was home with her for a week, and finally she started to feel better. She knew me so well. Knew I had to be going nuts, locked up in that damn apartment. So she told me she wanted some time to herself. Told me to go play ball with the guys. Let them know she was all right, and would be at the games herself in a couple of days.”

“So I was selfish, and I was stupid, and I went. I mean, at the time, I didn’t think Mike would come home. And I didn’t think he would hurt her. So I went. Had a great game. Stayed gone ‘till after dark. Had a homer and knocked in two runners. I’ll never forget that game,” he said, his voice bitter.

“Anyway, it gets dark so I go home. And it’s quiet. I tiptoed back to my room… She’s just lying there. She’s on my bed. All white. I really thought she was an angel, laying there on that dirty mattress… Christ!” he cried out, jerking upright.

He grabbed his knees and buried his head in his arms. Rocking himself back and forth, he seemed not to notice Marlena at his side. Rubbing his back. Trying to ease the anguish that engulfed him.

“Shh… It’s okay, honey. It’s okay,” she whispered.

He shook his head, not looking at her. “No no, it wasn’t okay. She was dying. He had… when I was gone, he came home. And he was drunk. And he raped her. She was 10 years old!” John ground out, as if it hurt to even say the words.

“She was too little, it tore something inside. And she was laying on my bed bleeding to death. And it was all my fault, and there was nothing I could do to fix it...” His words trailed off to a whisper.

Marlena eased down beside him, wrapping her arms around his shaking body. Rocking gently with him, she held tight as unvoiced sobs wracked him. Finally, she felt him tense in her grip. Pull away from her arms.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping at his eyes. “I just haven’t ever told anybody. I’m sorry.”





She took his face in her hands, forced him to face her. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, John. You should have told somebody a long time ago. You were just a little boy, John. None of that was your fault.”

Looking straight into her eyes, he said with certainty, “Of course it was my fault. I was careless, and she died. And I was careless again, and your baby died. It’s always my fault, Marlena, and I will never let it happen to you.”

“John, you did all that you could. You were just a little boy. You were younger than Eric. You couldn’t have stopped him. Even if you had been there, you could not have stopped it.”

He flashed a grim smile and shifted away from her to gaze out over the water. “You think not? Do you know what happened to old ‘Uncle Mike’? I covered up Kat’s body and I went and I got my bat. I told you I was good with a bat, right? So I got my bat. I crept down that hallway, just like I had so many times in my dreams. He was right where I knew he would be passed out on his bed, the TV flickering. I went over and I just watched him breathe for a while. And I wondered how Kat must have felt that giant body, smothering her, tearing her open…

“I took my bat and I hit him as hard as I could. I smashed him in the forehead. Damn, he was strong! It was a good hit and he still cameup off of the bed. I had to hit him two more times to put him on his knees. And I kept hitting him. I kept hitting him until I saw his brains.”

He sat still, staring at the silent waters. Finally, he turned to look at her, seeking acknowledgment, recognition of the truth. “Don’t you get it? I could have done that any night. I thought about it lots of nights. But I was scared. I was scared to do it, I thought I didn’t have to do it. I was wrong Marlena, and she died because I was wrong. Because I didn’t protect her. So you see… in the end, it was my fault.”

When she reached for him again, he got to his feet. Not meeting her eyes, he said, “I’m going for a swim,” and walked away. 

-----

Marlena lay back in the big bed, unable to sleep despite the late hour. Her thoughts kept going to John. To the life he had led. No wonder he had been so willing to accept that he was Roman Brady. No wonder he had fought so hard not to remember his life before.

He hadn’t said a word to her since his confession about Katherine. He had shut down. Shut her out. They had walked back to the house in silence. On their return, he had gone straight to the basement gym. He had been there all afternoon, working himself to the point of exhaustion. When dinner came and went without him, she had gone down and tried to get him to talk. He had ignored her completely. Standing in place. Slamming his fists into a heavy bag. Over and over again, putting his entire body into the blows. Finally, she had left him to work it out in his own way. He would talk to her when he was ready if he would ever be ready.

A sudden scream split the night air, jerking her from her thoughts. She grabbed her dressing gown and ran to the door, wondering if the police had finally found them. Eric stumbled out of his room, pulling on his jeans.

“What’s wrong, Mom?” he asked sleepily.

“Go get the girls up and stay here,” she ordered. Opening the door to the hall, she found it jammed with guards. They were running down the long hall and she could make out the sounds of a struggle. Hesitantly, she followed, and found herself being pushed aside by Stefano as he rushed by her.

Dimera stopped as he came to John’s bedroom. “Let him go! Get out, all of you!” he yelled.

Reaching Dimera’s side, Marlena stood back to let three guards slip by, supporting a fourth man who was nearly unconscious. Peering into the room, she saw John.

He was wild, crouched in the middle of the room like some animal brought to bay. Eyes wide, dripping sweat, he looked like he wanted to go for their throats.

“It was a dream, John. Just a dream,” Dimera called out softly. “Calm down, John. It was just a dream.”

John’s body was still tensed to fight, but he straightened, nodding his head. Closing his eyes, he fought to bring himself under control. “Yea, I know. It’s just a dream.” Gulping a deep breath, he opened his eyes and flashed Stefano a quick grimace meant to pass for a smile. “Sorry. Haven’t done that in a long while.”

“Are you okay?” Dimera asked.

“Yea yea, just a dream. I must have yelled out, and that dumb bastard came running in to see what the problem was. I dropped him before I knew what was going on.” Ruefully, he shook his head, sitting back on the bed. “Sorry,” he repeated.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

John noticed Marlena, standing silently behind Dimera, and his face paled. “Um… no, nothing I want to talk about.”

Marlena pressed past Stefano, not about to be shut out. “Stefano, will you please tell the children everything is fine. I will be back in a little while,” she ordered, daring either of the men to say ‘no’ to her.

Dimera shot a sharp look at John who sat lost in his own thoughts, and nodded in acquiescence. “I’ll let them know,” he said, pulling the door shut behind him.

Despite the cool autumn night, John was soaked in sweat and she could see his racing pulse in the throb of the vein in his neck. Gasping for breath, she could tell he was still struggling for control. Wearing only a ratty pair of sweatpants, he looked incredibly vulnerable and terribly alone. Gingerly, she sat down on the bed beside him.

“What happened,” she asked as he seemed to calm.

He shrugged. “Just a dream. I used to have them as a kid. Dimera knew. I can sort of lose control. Not know what I’m doing for a minute. Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, looking awkwardly up at her.





“You apologize too much,” she teased, trying to get him to relax.

He rewarded her with a faint smile. “That’s cause I do so many things that warrant it.”

Unable to help herself, she reached out and brushed a strand of damp hair back from his face. “Was it about Katherine?” she asked gently.

He pulled back, shaking his head. “I don’t know… don’t really remember,” he mumbled, glancing away.

Knowing he wasn’t ready to talk, she let it drop. “Come on,” she said briskly, standing up. “You need to lay back down and get some sleep. It’s after three in the morning.” Putting actions to words, she reached out and tried to push him back on the bed.

“Doc… no. I’m too tense. I can’t get to sleep now. I’ll go downstairs. Maybe lift some weights until I get tired,” he said, struggling to rise.

“Enough with you and that damn gym,” she replied, shoving him back down. “Now lay down, right this minute!”

His eyes widened. “Yes ma’am!” he said.

“Better,” Marlena granted him a smile. “Now roll over.”

This time, he actually chuckled. “What is this? Obedience school?” But he complied, stretching out on his stomach. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt her hands on his shoulders.

Marlena stifled a chuckle as John’s body seemed to leap a foot off of the bed at her touch. She could feel the tremors running through his lean frame. Finally, though, he accepted her touch, began to relax into the soothing caress. She smiled to herself and put her weight into it, kneading hard muscles, easing away the knots. His breathing became more regular and his eyes began to close. He had almost nodded off when he jerked suddenly upright and rolled away from her, a panicked look on his face.

Gulping air, again he again offered an apology. “I’m sorry. I just...I really don’t want to go to sleep right now. Okay?” he finished, almost timidly.

And she understood. He didn’t want to dream. He was scared he was going to dream, so he didn’t want to go to sleep. Unable to prevent it, she felt the tears spring to her eyes.

John saw the tears and knew he had hurt her again. “God, I’m sorry Marlena. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m just jumpy. You should probably just stay away from me right now.”

Marlena couldn’t help laughing. He was so paranoid about hurting her. “John, I was not scared of you! I was just… sad.”

“Yea, well I don’t want you to be sad, either,” he muttered, more to himself than her. “Look,” he said, as he scooted to the side of the bed. “I’m going to fall asleep if I stay here. I’ll just be in the gym for a little while. Or maybe watch TV or something,” he added hastily.

Catching his arm, she halted his progress. Serious now, she said, “You are going to have to sleep John. You can’t avoid it. You’re just going to get really grumpy if you try!” she said, flashing a smile and smoothed his hair back. “It will be okay. I’ll stay with you. You will be okay. I promise.”

Reluctantly, he let her pull him down until he lay looking up at the ceiling. His head resting on the pillow, he was distinctly aware of the heat of her body as she eased in beside him. He started to get up then, deciding that the gym was the only hope for his sanity, when her hand dropped across his chest.





He froze, unable to move. Dimly, he heard her speaking.

“John… Come on John. Roll over, you’re hogging the bed.” He looks terrified, she thought to herself as she tugged the blankets up over them both. Briefly, she wondered if he were more afraid of the dreams or of her. She thought it was probably a tossup.

The blankets clutched in her hand, she snuggled back down into the bed, tucking her body in behind his. Ignoring for the moment the fact that he was holding himself completely rigid, she pulled the blankets around their shoulders. Sliding one arm under John’s neck, she let the other fall across his waist and pull against his chest. Burrowing her head into his shoulder, she allowed herself to simply relax against him.

Minutes passed as she held him tight, and she could still scarcely feel him breathe. The only sign of life was the heavy beat of the heart as it pulsed against her hand. Finally, he shuddered, letting the tension wash away. His body sagged against hers and she felt him draw a ragged breath. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Anytime,” she whispered back.

His fingers entwined with her own and his breathing became more regular. For a long time after he fell into a dreamless sleep, she simply lay holding him, luxuriating in the feel of his body against hers. Finally, she too drifted off to sleep.

He was so tired, he couldn’t focus. Who the hell was pounding on his door!? “What?” John yelled irritably. Rolling over, he tried not to disturb her.

“Uh, it’s me, Dad,” Eric’s voice answered hesitantly. “I’m just checking… Is Mom in there with you?”





“Yea, sure...” The words were out before their import sank in. Staring down at her face, her eyes just starting to flutter awake, he realized that she really was here. In his bed. The reality hit him as her eyes blinked opened to and gazed up at him. He was caught by the hunger in those hazel eyes and found himself slowly sinking down. Grazing her lips with a feather’s touch of his own. Never closing his eyes, he drank in her face, her feel.

He pressed back up, hovering over her. Burning with the desire to be with her. To be in her. And then she touched him just the barest scratch of fingernails through the thick cloth of the sweats.

He arched off of the bed like he had been electrocuted, scrambling away from her. Backing into the far wall, he sank down to crouch on his heels. Pale faced, he studied her, taking deep breaths as he shook his head. “I’m sorry...I can’t do this,” he rasped out thickly.

Stunned by his reaction, she shifted so that her head rested at the foot of the bed. Propping her chin in her hands, she looked him over, amusement in her eyes. “You certainly ‘look’ like you can,” she stated, staring pointedly at his crotch. His need was obvious and a sly smile creased her face. “I’m certain that if I were very, very creative, I could probably help you out, there,” she teased.

His gaze was intense, the need for her making it hard to think. “Just looking at you makes me want to cum,” he stated bluntly.

Shocked, she was at a loss for words. Laughing hysterically, she collapsed onto her back. Through the giggles, she brokenly responded, “That is probably… the most romantic thing… you have ever said!”

Disgruntled, he got to his feet as she still lay gasping for breath on the bed. “I’m so glad this is amusing you, but I think I am going to take a shower.”

His awkward gate as he moved to the bathroom sent her back into a giggle fit and he shot her a sour look as he closed the door behind him.

Marlena lay back on the bed, listening to the sound of the water splashing down in the other room. Smiling to herself, she realized how much she needed him in her life to feel whole. She would not let his fear keep them apart.

She was startled from her musings as the door opened and John walked into the room wearing only a towel. Studiously ignoring her, he crossed to the closet. Despite his seeming nonchalance, Marlena could see that he was blushing furiously.

She gave him a puzzled look. “Would you care to explain why you leap from my bed as though you can’t stand my touch and then come prancing through here dressed only in a towel? Are you purposely being a tease?”

Picking through the closet to avoid facing her, he replied “You know I don’t usually use a robe. By the time I realized, it was too late. I was already in the shower and my sweats were in a damp heap on the floor hence the towel. And I didn’t ‘prance’,” he said, grudgingly turning to face her.

“Mm, okay. You didn’t prance. But, I still want to know why you jumped out of my bed.”

He sat at the edge of the bed, discretely pulling jeans up over cotton boxers. “You know why,” he replied, aware of her eyes burning a hole in his back.

“No, John actually, I don’t. I want you to tell me. What you’re thinking. What you’re feeling. I know you want to be with me. I don’t understand your fear.”

She wanted him to say it. To recognize what was keeping them apart. It was the only way he might come to terms with it. She was simply relieved he was willing to talk about his feelings at all, given his reaction yesterday.

With a sigh of resignation, he turned on the bed to face her. She caught his eye for a second, and then he looked down, plucking at the threads of the thick quilt. “I can’t be with you just once. We both know that. If I… if we made love, I couldn’t leave. I wouldn’t be able to make myself leave.” He shrugged, his eyes drifting across the room. His voice catching in his throat, he repeated, “So I can’t… be with you. Because I can’t stay.”

She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Why can’t you stay, John. I want you to. So do the kids, if you hadn’t noticed. I know it’s what you want too. So you tell me, why can’t you stay with us?” she asked softly.

Clearly uncomfortable, he stared down into the fabric of the quilt before raising pain filled eyes. “Because it would hurt you. In the end, I would hurt you.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she reached out to lightly cup his face in her hand. “And this doesn’t hurt me?” she asked, voice breaking.

He turned his face in her hand, kissed her palm with dry lips. “I’m sorry, Doc,” he whispered, stretching his hand to her face. He wiped a tear gently away with the pad of his thumb, and at his touch, she began to tremble.





The move more an act of desperation than desire, he shifted forward. Took her in his arms. Crushed her body against his. Felt the anguished sobs that shook her. And knew he would do anything to stop her pain.

“Shh. Don’t cry, Doc. Don’t cry. It’s okay,” he gentled, rocking her slightly, his fingers curling in her hair. Closing his eyes on what he was doing, he whispered to her what she wanted to hear.

“Don’t cry… I’ll stay.”

-----

Stefano squinted his eyes shut against the glare of the rising sun, its harsh rays slanting in on him from the windows along the far wall of the office. Swinging his legs over the side of the sofa, he lurched into a sitting position and realized that he was drunk. His head buzzed and he felt the beginnings of a throbbing headache pounding away in back of his tired eyes. Stifling a groan, he looked down at the mounds of pictures scattered haphazardly over the coffee table. Moving hesitantly, he reached down and carefully picked up the top picture.

An unconscious smile lit his face as he studied her form. One of many pilfered snapshots, it was perhaps his favorite. She was wearing a simple white dress that flowed softly over her slim form. The gauzy material was whipped about her by a light breeze and her skin shone smooth and tan in golden contrast to the white of her dress. He trailed his finger over the graceful silhouette and studied her eyes. It was the look in their hazel depths that made his heart ache. Caught by surprise, she looked up with sparkling eyes, a faint smile gracing her lips. There was a promise in those eyes. A promise of nights of passion and days of laughter. Irritably he admitted to himself that it was a promise made to another man, a man who had taken the one thing he had desired and never managed to own. The black anger stirring in his befuddled mind, he crumpled the picture between his blunt fingers and threw it down to join the growing pile at his feet.

For a fleeting moment, he wished that he had sent John to punish her. After the shooting, he had considered it. The whitehot pain that had twisted his guts in the aftermath of the many surgeries had almost pushed him to it. Even now, he found it impossible to believe that she would actually shoot him. That she would dare to pull the trigger and try to wipe him from the face of the earth. The gall of it had enraged him. Had intrigued him. And so he had sent the man who was like a son to watch over her, and when the time was right, to bring her home. Home to sit at his side, the only woman he had ever found worthy. Instead of gaining the woman, he had lost the son.

The drink made him morose, and he pulled out yet another fat cigar. He fondled it almost lovingly as he cut the end. Gently twirling the cylinder of tobacco above the flame of his lighter, he tried to pretend that he wasn’t still listening for the sound of her footsteps. Tried to ignore the knowledge that she had stayed the night. But in his heart, he had no doubts. He had spent the long hours waiting for her to leave, yet each time he had thought he heard her light tread it had been nothing but his mind playing cruel tricks.





Groaning audibly, he stumbled to his feet and moved again to the bar. Deciding against drinking himself into unconsciousness, he reached for the seltzer and let the cool liquid ease away the dryness in his mouth. Blearily, he attempted to collect his thoughts, debating whether his men would obey if he ordered John’s death whether they would be successful if they tried. He had never seen another man who could take punishment the way John Black could. The man would not be stopped by anything short of death, and the man died hard.

His thoughts traveled back, and he remembered the boy who had burst so violently into his life. Remembered the feel of the cold steel of the knife as it pressed against the thin skin of his neck. In that instance, he had known what death looked like. He had seen it in the eyes of the boy, had recognized it as the look that stared back at him from the mirror. Those blueblack eyes with nothing behind them. No empathy. No remorse. No soul. A kindred spirit, Stefano had been unwilling to watch him bleeding his life out into some gutter on a nameless street. He had taken him home and given him a purpose…

Dimera watches with pride as the young man slams a fist into the face of his sparring partner. Even with the protection of the pads, the instructor’s head snaps back and he staggers. Taking advantage of his opponent’s weakness, John jams a knee into the man’s groin and delivers a twofisted blow to the face that swings obligingly forward. Groaning, the instructor drops to the ground.

For a long moment, Stefano simply stands, watching the sleeping boy. Reaching down, he pulls a thick blanket over the slumbering form. “Of course I did,” he replies.

The memories fueled the headache that was now threatening to split his skull in two. Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, Stefano reached into a drawer of the big desk and pulled out the bottle of aspirin. Washing down a handful of pills, he let his tired body collapse into the padded chair. Without considering his actions, he leaned over to open the bottom drawer. Hesitantly, he pulled out a thick file and sat it on the desk. His fingers brushed over the thick lettering that identified the file’s contents: JOHN BLACK.

Almost unwillingly, he flipped open the file. A picture stared up at him a family, lounging happily on a checkered blanket, the remains of a picnic scattered around them. John lay laughing, his head in Marlena’s lap. The twins, barely more than babies, were cradled against his chest while Carrie posed with her head resting against his stomach.

Years ago, this picture had confirmed that something in his plan to take Marlena had gone terribly wrong. Eight months had passed with no contact from John and all attempts to reach him through regular channels had been ignored. Known operatives had been passedby unacknowledged and reports had indicated that John had assumed the identity of Roman Brady, a role he had never been instructed to take. Though the man had broken away from his handlers, his mind befuddled by the hypnosis sessions designed to provide him with a basic knowledge of the players in the Salem operation, he should never have departed so drastically from his assignment.

It had been the drugs. Well, it had probably been the drugs. Stefano had known the drugs were a bad idea, even as he had ordered them administered. The drugs had been a very bad idea. Perhaps they had interacted with the hypnosis, perhaps with the painkillers and perhaps it had had nothing to do with the drugs at all. Regardless of the cause, the results had been disastrous and the results had been easy to see. This picture had been all the of the explanation Dimera had needed.

There was a look of peace and contentment on the man’s face that Stefano had never seen. Surrounded by a family, ‘his’ children in his arms, the man in the picture was nothing like the boy Dimera had raised. The haunted look, the tense watchfulness, was gone. In the instance he saw the picture, Stefano had recognized the truth of the matter. The man had no memory of his life beyond that of Roman Brady. The confused mind had found the sanctuary it had always sought, and the blood and pain of the young man’s past had been buried deep inside. In time, Stefano had come to accept the loss. The risk of challenging the man who was now Roman Brady had been too great. On his home ground, Brady himself had been a dangerous foe and the man who had usurped his place was capable of so much more. Rather than risk his empire, Dimera had let John play out the fantasy. He had even found solace in the fact that the boy had finally gained some peace. Dimera had been willing to let it go but the Fate had not been as forgiving.

The first time, it had been a former associate an independent operative with a property he was certain Dimera would be interested in. Orpheus’ prize, the fair Marlena plucked from the sea, had been handed over to him on a silver platter. Stefano had had her cared for in the hopes that one day she would awaken. Awaken, she had only to slip once again from his grasp. And once again, he had reconciled himself to the loss and watched as she led a pedestrian existence as another man’s wife.

At times, Stefano had wondered whether the passage of time had softened John, if his life as Roman had made him weak. But in his heart, Dimera knew that if he could not give up Marlena after all of the many years, then neither could John. If he took Marlena, John would come. It was a holocaust he had been unwilling to initiate. Yet the fates had woven their lives together once again, destiny intent on seeing this battle played out to the bloody end.

Dimera sighed and closed the file. Leaning back, he stretched his arms out above his head and wondered just how many times he could be expected to allow Marlena to elude him. His options were clear f he wanted to posses her, he would have to kill John. Marlena’s price would be payed in blood, it was the one sure thing in the equation.

He should have known that bringing John back his memories would not erase the man’s feelings for Marlena. The woman was the antithesis of all that John was. All that he lacked, she could give him. It was the same quality that drew Stefano to her. A man could find peace inside her, but it would take a death to achieve that peace.

Dimera hated indecision, despised it as a weakness. For him, a bad decision was still better than no decision at all. He would allow this battle with John to go on no longer. It was time to decide was Marlena’s body was worth more to him than John’s life? 

-----

She lay quietly in his arms, absently twirling a curl of his thick chest hair between her fingers. They had been the words she had most wanted to hear. They had been the words she had most feared. ‘I’ll stay.’

“You okay?” he asked. Propped against the headboard, he seemed completely at ease.

“What will Stefano do?”

John shrugged. “He won’t be happy, but we’ll work it out. Before we leave here, it will be settled. Don’t worry about it.”

Marlena could not believe it would be that simple. She could not believe that Stefano would letit be that simple. “John, I think we should leave now. Call Bo. Tell him everything we know. Let the law handle this. You don’t have to do this anymore. Let’s just go home,” she said, sitting up.

“You don’t honestly think I am going to allow any of those men to live, do you? While they live, they represent a threat to you. I will not accept that risk, Marlena. We don’t leave until they are all dead.”

He brushed his fingers down her jawline, his smile sad. “Marlena, I will always watch over you. I can’t help that. And if you think I will ever tolerate a threat to you, you are wrong. None of that is negotiable. But it is up to you whether you want me in your life, your home. If you don’t want me, I would understand it.”

She knew he meant it, knew she couldn’t stop him from killing the men behind the bombing. It scared her. He scared her. He was not the same and he never could be the scars simply ran too deep. She also knew that in the end, none of that mattered. “I want you.”

“Then I will stay.”

He paced the room, stalling. He didn’t want to go down and face the kids and he sure as hell didn’t want to face Dimera. Marlena had gone back to her room to shower and change and he was taking the coward’s way out, trying to wait until he was certain she would beat him down to the table. Rubbing a hand through his hair, he cringed at the thought of what the kids must be thinking. Unable to control his impatience any longer, he stalked to the door.

He walked onto the porch, unsurprised to see only the three children sitting there.

“Hi Dad,” Sami called, an innocent grin on her face. “You look hungry.”

He felt his face flush, kept his eyes fastened on the table. Sitting stiffly down, he tried to find the right words to explain why their mother had been gone all night.

“Um… really sorry about waking you,” Eric said, not quite disguising his smile. “I was just… worried when Mom didn’t come back. I didn’t totally trust what Stefano had said.”

“Don’t worry. You didn’t interrupt anything. Nothing happened,” John said pointedly.

“Of course not,” Sami replied, eyes wide with feigned innocence.

“Not that there would be anything wrong if something had happened. Theoretically speaking, of course,” Carrie chimed in.

“Theoretically speaking, I would have to agree with you,” Eric nodded.

“Nothing happened!” John said, blushing furiously.

“Of course not,” three innocent voices parroted back in sync.

“Dammit, we did not sleep together!”

“Really, John! Do you think that is an appropriate conversation for the children?” Marlena chided as she breezed through the French doors.

He started to retort, but the sight of her took his breath away. She was wearing a simple silk dress that flowed over her curves, the dark velvety brown color highlighting the hazel of her eyes.

All of the curves were in exactly the right places and he couldn’t believe he’d been in bed with her and ever let her escape.

“What is it?” she asked curiously, catching his stare.

Breaking the contact, he looked away. “Oh, nothing. You just look really nice, that’s all.”

As she settled into the chair next to him, he rubbed ruefully at the stubble on his chin. Dressed in fraying jeans and a stretched out old sweater, he felt like a peasant in the presence of his queen. He tried to focus on the eggs and bacon in front of him, but the food lay like sawdust in his mouth. All he was aware of was Marlena, sitting at his side and Dimera, conspicuous in his absence.

John felt a pressing need to get it over with, to deal with Stefano here and now. Standing abruptly, he gave a quick nod to the kids. “Have some business that really needs taking care of. We’ll get together tonight, watch movies or something.”

At their distracted nods of agreement, he turned to go up to Dimera’s study. Having easily read his intentions, Marlena reached out and grabbed his hand. “Be careful please.”

“I will be. I promise.”

The three children stared in stunned silence as John walked from the room.

“Mom! What did happen last night?” Carrie asked.

“Okay, dish Mom,” Sami said less tactfully, leaning eagerly forward in her chair.

Marlena cocked an eyebrow at her youngest daughter. “May I just say, I pity the poor boy you set your sights on.”

“Mom, come on,” Carrie prodded. “We want to know what’s going on. You and John is he going to come home?”

All three looked at her expectantly and she was uncertain what to tell them. “He’s going to try. When this is done, when the threat of the Brotherhood is over, he’s going to come home. He told me he would,” she said, trying to convince herself it was the truth. John would come home, he had promised he would. She only wondered if Dimera would let him.

John tapped on the study door, knowing that the man was waiting for him within. After a second’s hesitation, he heard the deep voice call out, “Come in.”

John stood in the doorway, not knowing what to say. “We missed you at breakfast,” he began at random.

“I’m sure,” Stefano commented dryly, sitting straighter in his chair.

John pulled the door firmly shut behind him and moved to one of the armchairs set in front of the desk. Dimera silently watched him, his face expressionless. Sitting on the edge of the cushioned seat, he looked up at Dimera and felt like a schoolboy about to be lectured and realized instantly that it was the effect the arrangement was meant to have. It was too much for his already frayed nerves and he lurched to his feet. Backing away from Dimera, giving himself some space to breathe, he rested a lean hip against the couch.

“So?” Dimera said coldly. Expectantly.

For a moment, John studied him the man who had raised him for half his life, the closest thing he had to a father. He owed him an honest answer.

“She asked me to go back with her when she goes home. When we are done with this mess.” Looking firmly at Dimera, he added, “I said yes.... I meant it.”

“Ah,” Dimera nodded, his face revealing nothing. “What about that promise you made. Your vow never to put the children at risk?”

Unwilling to debate the issue, John shrugged. “I lied. You should be familiar with the concept.”

“Of course,” Stefano replied, his annoyance barely held in check. “So… May I assume you are here to ask for my permission?”

“No, Stefano. I’m not asking I’m telling. I will go home to her, to my children. If you’re going to have a problem with that, we should settle it now.”

“John, please tell me you have not been reduced to making threats? If you are going to do something, be a man and do it!” Dimera snapped, feeling angry, feeling betrayed.





John let out a snort and stood up. “Give me a little more credit. I owe you more than that and I know it.” Reaching behind him, John pulled his gun from its holster where it had been hidden by the loose sweater. Chambering a round, he set the weapon down on the glossy wood in front of Dimera and stepped back from the desk.

“Sir, I am going with her. She has my first loyalty. Stefano, if I ever think you pose a threat to her… I am not Roman Brady. I would find you and I would come for you and I don’t ever want to have to come for you.” John laughed bitterly. “I have enough of an Oedipus complex as it is.”

Nodding down at the gun, John continued. “I am giving you this chance, Stefano. This one time, I’m putting you ahead of her. If you want to stop me, you can. You can pick up that gun and end this now. If you want to force her to stay her, if you want to keep me from her, you had better use the gun right now it will save us all a lot of grief in the long run.” He stood, eyes unwavering, waiting for Dimera’s decision.

Almost casually, Stefano lifted the gun. Admired the cold, deadly lines. The piece was as much a work of art as it was a tool of destruction and the cool wood of the grip balanced perfectly in his hand. He glanced up at John, standing stiffly before him. “You’re sure of this?”

“I’m sure.”

His decision made, Dimera strode rapidly to John’s side. Raising the weapon, he jammed the barrel against the side of his dark head. Pressing hard, he forced the man’s head back.

Closing his eyes, John waited for the impact of the slug, the release of oblivion. At least his death would mark the last time he would fail her.

“Why? Why did you agree to go back to her, John?”

He took a shuddering breath, wishing Stefano would just get it over with. Eyes still closed, he let the air ease back out of his lungs. “It hurt her more for me to say no.”

The moment stretched, seconds ticking by like hours. Abruptly the hard metal pressing against his head was replaced by one of Dimera’s thick hands. Grabbing his hair, the old man shook him roughly. “You have been nothing but trouble since the day you came to me,” a harsh voice grated in his ear.

Ruffling the thick hair, Stefano released him and turned away. “If you two have a child, it had damn well better be named after me,” he said gruffly.





John stood stunned, almost failing to recognize his reprieve. The relief that washed over him threatened to drop him to his knees. Managing a weak grin, he asked, “What if it’s a girl?”

“Stephanie is an acceptable alternative,” Dimera replied, letting a bitter smile crease his lips as he leaned back against the desk.

“I’ll get right on it,” John promised, once again propping himself against the couch, not wanting to leave quite yet.

“You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Not particularly,” was the honest reply as Stefano poured himself a tall drink. “But I am not an idiot and this was not a complete surprise.” Settling back on the couch, he motioned John to the chair opposite him.

“Mm. Is that why I’m still breathing?” John asked softly, quirking an eyebrow.

“I do not kill my own children, John. That is why you are still alive. At the moment, it is the only reason,” Stefano replied, his face grim.

John couldn’t help the flush of pride at the old man’s words any more than he could resist the shame he felt at the response. He had placed Marlena’s chance at happiness, perhaps her very freedom, in the hands of a man capable of so much evil. The fact that he had been right granted him no absolution. With a sigh, he propped his head in his hands and rubbed at his temples, wondering just when the hell it was his life had become so complicated. When he was younger, if he couldn’t shoot it, fuck it or drink it, he generally hadn’t bothered with it. Now all he did was juggle betrayals and lies and broken vows. He simply wanted it all to be over with.

All he asked was the chance to build a life with the woman he loved. Yet every time he thought of her, every time he watched her move through a room, the joy she brought him was tempered by the fear, the tight knot of worry that twisted in his breast, signaling him that it was not meant to be. It was never meant to be for him, in his heart, he knew that. His desire for her would burn her out, burn her through. If he wasn’t very careful, he would leave nothing of her but a shattered shell.

“Have you thought about the consequences?” Dimera asked, jarring John from his bleak reverie.

John gave a shrug, trying to shake off the dark thoughts. “I haven’t thought of anything else. Not since you brought me back. It’s wrong, Stefano. I know it’s wrong. I’m going to do it anyway. Even if I can’t be what she wants, can’t give her what she needs, I’m willing to die trying.”

Dimera merely rolled his eyes and took a deep swallow from his glass. “Have I mentioned your penchant for melodrama?”

John gave him a wry grin and tried to be optimistic. “Maybe once or twice. But you’re right. If everything is okay between you and me, if we can wrapup this little problem with the Brotherhood.... Well, I’m stronger than I used to be. Maybe I can make this work.”

They sat together, content in the silence. Finally, Dimera broached the subject uppermost in his mind. “So I guess you will be leaving my little family?” His voice was deceptively calm.

“Huh? You must be joking. If I am going to protect her, it will be from a position of strength. I need you behind me.... Unless you’re asking me to leave?” Trying to control the hurt, the fear that he would not be strong enough on his own, he kept his voice carefully neutral.

Stefano quirked an eyebrow. “No, I’m not asking you to leave. I want you at my back. You should know that. But Marlena isn’t going to like it.”

“She doesn’t have to,” John answered coldly. “I will not allow her to be hurt through my own weakness, Stefano. I will do whatever I think necessary to see that nothing and no one ever hurts her or the children again.”

With a nod of understanding, Stefano raised his glass in mock salute. Recognizing the sense of relief that coursed through him, surprised by its intensity, Dimera dropped his eyes to study the amber depths of the whiskey. Each man lost in his own thoughts, the silence once more descended.

-----