Angry shouts echoed off of cold stone walls, as Mikos Alamain raged at the man on the other end of the telephone line. “I told you this entire business was foolhardy to begin with. I have given you resources, access to information, every possible assistance. I wanted only one thing from you. I wanted John Black.”

“Mr. Alamain,” the voice on the line placated. “That was not possible. The lead operative would never have accepted that assignment. If John had been locked away, we could have controlled the situation. Eventually, he could have been lost in a transfer. It was simply too risky for us to stage a kidnaping directly.”

“I did not want him lockedup in some prison. I did not want him in your control. The only place I want John Black is here, under my control. Mine, “ he said with emphasis. “Now you tell me you could not even succeed in your misguided attempt to frame him. The man is not a fool. All you have managed to do is put him on his guard. I am holding you to your end of the deal. I want the man delivered to me. If not, that little secret empire you’re building is going to crumble before your eyes.” Cutting off any reply, Mikos slammed the phone into its cradle.

He stalked to his desk and snatched the photograph from the top of the file. Vivian had pretended not to recognize him she must take him for a fool. John Black was so like his father that it was eery. To know that this was the same face he hunted…

When he had first learned his brother lived, it had been a relief. To kill your own brother, your own blood… It should give one pause. But the relief hadn’t lasted. What if his brother knew? What if he knew that he was the rightful heir? Mikos would not give it up. He had been born to reign and he would not sacrifice that, not even for a brother. And so the hunt had begun.

At first, he had not known what he would do if he found his brother. Or at least, he had lied to himself that he didn’t. But long ago fear had turned to anger, and now… He would kill rather than allow any man to threaten his empire. Even his brother.

He stared into the photo and the eyes seemed to stare back. Mikos recognized those eyes, they were his ‘father’s’ Illya Mikovitch Alamain. Mikos could picture how those eyes would darken in anger, how they’d shine the blueblack of midnight. Some day soon, he would look into those eyes as his brother knelt and pledged his fealty. And if those eyes offended, then he would pluck them out.

John paced the length of the study for the fifth time before Stefano’s patience snapped. “John, you won the case! You kicked a policeman in the head in front of a dozen other officers and they didn’t even convict you of assault. Will you please stop trying to wear a hole in that very expensive rug and tell me what the problem is?”

John pulled up, looking at Dimera as if noticing him for the first time. “Sorry, Stefano. I was just thinking.”





“Laudable try not to hurt yourself. Now, will you please tell me what it is you are thinking about that has you so agitated?”

John ran his hand through his hair and shrugged. “It’s Marlena. She was at the hearing.”

“Really?”

“You sound surprised,” John noted, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, weren’t you?” Stefano replied smoothly. “Given the circumstances, I would not have expected a show of support. Weren’t you surprised by her presence?”

“Yea. I guess I was,” John muttered, his eyes darting away. “Look, I’ve got to get out of here. There’s something I have to take care of. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Stefano leaned back in his seat, watching as John virtually sprinted from the room. A pleased grin spread across his face and he wondered just how much John had learned at his trial. Perhaps it would be best not to leave the man to his own devices. He rose from his chair, anticipation building. He knew exactly where he would find John Black and he knew the man wouldn’t be alone.

John pulled the truck he had borrowed from Dimera’s garage into the driveway of the house. Her house. God, he had thought that he would never have to see this place again. For him, it had ceased to be real, a vague fantasy that he tried hard to forget. It was real though and so was she, he couldn’t ignore her any longer.

He sat in the truck. Waiting. Watching. Feeling like death personified. Almost, he made himself turn the truck around. Drive away. Never see her again. Almost but not quite. Knowing it was wrong, knowing that nothing good could come of it, he slammed the truck door and walked to the house. She would be waiting for him. Some things were fated.

Marlena stood in the doorway, blocking his entrance. “What are you doing here? What do you want?”

His eyes hadn’t deceived him, the gentle swell of her stomach all the proof he required. A child. His child. Looking into her eyes, he had to force the words out. “I want to talk. May I please come in?”

For the tiniest fraction of a second she hesitated, then shook her head. “I don’t want you in my home, John. You were right when you left. You aren’t a part of our lives anymore.”

The fact that he agreed with her served only to make him angry. “Oh, I think I am still a part of your life. A very big part,” he snapped, looking pointedly down at the evidence of her pregnancy.

Marlena’s eyes flashed fire and she slammed the door forward without bothering to comment. John jammed his foot in the doorway, grabbing her wrist. With one hard push, he forced his way in, shoving her toward the center of the room. “I have a right to know. Is the baby mine?”

She jerked away from him and he let her go. Already he felt guilty and standing in the home that had been theirs only served to make it worse. He fought the urge to follow as she turned away from him, as if being close to him was too painful to bear.

Looking down at the floor, she ran her hands across the firm swell of her stomach, considering her answer. “No,” she finally replied. “The baby is Roman’s.”





The anger sparked red hot. His hand shot out, spinning her roughly around. Those hazel eyes threw up a challenge, daring him to prove her wrong. He moved close, intent on doing just that. Backing her up, he cornered her against the wall, long arms blocking off any escape. “No more lies, Marlena. I’ve had enough deceit in my life. I will not let you lie to me about this,” he hissed

“This is our child, isn’t it? Isn’t it!” He slammed a hard fist into the wall beside her head, the plaster cracking beneath the blow. She shrank away from him, and for the first time he could see the fear. He had never wanted her to know fear, and now he was the one who brought it to her. His head dropped and he slowly stepped away. Unable to meet the eyes that stared back at him, he whispered a final plea. “Please… who is the father?”

In a voice so low he could barely hear, she breathed the answer he already knew. “You are, John. There hasn’t been anyone else.”

He had wanted it to be true. He shouldn’t have, but he had. Tears stung the corners of his eyes as he finally met her gaze. He couldn’t help the smile as he said, “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not,” she replied with a broken laugh.

He chuckled, his cheeks flushing. “No, I’m not.”

“Neither am I,” she said softly, her fingers resting protectively against her stomach.

John blinked, uncertain what she wanted of him, suddenly realizing he had no idea why he was here. “I’ll do whatever you want. About the baby… whatever you think is best...”

“Well, not being in prison is a good start. I was glad things turned out well for you. I didn’t want you locked up, John. No matter what you’ve done, I didn’t want that. You deserve better.”

“No, I don’t. Not after what I did to you,” he replied.

“Maybe not. I’m still glad you’re free,” she said with a shrug. Walking past him to the couch, she ignored the possessive way his eyes followed.

“Why did you do it? You never said. Why did you pretend to be Roman?” Marlena asked, not looking at him as she tried to find a comfortable spot on the couch.

“You already know this, Marlena. I believed I was Roman. When I was with you, I thought that was who I was. I didn’t lie on purpose.” He shifted restlessly on the balls of his feet jumpy, edgy. He hated that being near her made him this way. He hated being near her and not touching her. He licked dry lips and wondered what it was she wanted to hear.

“So when you married me when you told me you loved me it wasn’t a lie?” The question was casual, she looked almost disinterested as she studied her fingernails.

“You have to ask?” He snorted a laugh.

“Yes, I do,” she snapped, her tone hard and sharp and anything but disinterested.

He could feel the pain in her voice, one more thing to be ashamed of. Suppressing a groan, John knelt before her, too far away to touch her, too close not to want to.

“I loved you the first time I saw you. That’s all it took. I will never stop loving you, Marlena. That’s never even been an option.”

She blushed, her eyes darting away from him, and he knew that he was only making it harder for her. “At the hospital, huh? John, you didn’t even know me then.”

“I saw you before the hospital. I knew you. I knew everything about you. The first time I saw you was in a picture. Dimera showed me. It was my assignment I was to bring you to him. You were all alone, standing in a field of grass. You had wildflowers in your hair, a crooked smile on your lips. Your eyes… I’d never seen eyes like that. Love, acceptance peace. I could see it all everything I didn’t have. Everything I didn’t deserve. I loved you. I wanted you. From that first moment, I have never wanted anything so badly in my entire life.” The words poured out of him, the need to dispel the lies overwhelming. Her face paled, and he knew he had hurt her once again. He still didn’t regret the words.





“I should hate you, you know that?” she finally replied.

“Yea you should. Do you?”

“This is all very sweet,” a deep voice cut in from the doorway. “However I fear it is terribly misguided.”

“Stefano, get the hell out of here!” John snapped, spinning to his feet and stalking angrily toward the door. “This doesn’t concern you, old man.”

Kicking the door open the rest of the way, Dimera stepped calmly into the house, a confident smile lighting his face. “Oh, I think it does concern me, John. After all, Marlena carries my child, not yours.”

“Bullshit! You can’t be the father of Marlena’s baby, Stefano,” John stated flatly, stepping forward in an aggressive pose. “Like it or not, this baby is mine.”

Dimera simply shook his head. “No, John. There is no doubt. Would you like to know what I did the night that I knew for certain that Marlena would eventually be mine? You remember the night you blew Davies’ brains all over my dinner table, right in front of her? That night, I had Marlena artificially inseminated. The child she bears will be our firstborn.”

“You lying bastard.” He hissed out the words and closed the distance that separated him from the big man in the doorway. The palms of his hands itched and he wished he had brought his gun.

“No.”

The whispered word stopped John in his tracks as nothing else could have. He spun on his heels, Dimera forgotten as Marlena sank slowly to her knees, her face pale and her hand pressed tightly to her stomach.

“Doc, take it easy,” John said, at her side in an instance. As if afraid his touch would hurt her, he dropped to his knees and gingerly slid a hand behind her back.

“Marlena? Is it the baby?” Dimera was almost as fast as John, crouching before her, concern showing clearly on his face.

With a growl, John shoved him away. “Don’t you touch her! Not ever again without her permission. Do you understand me?!”

“Dammit, John, you know I would never hurt her but it is my child she is carrying, and I have a right to protect it. Stand down, John. I refuse to fight you over her,” Dimera replied, his anger rising at the challenge to his authority.

“You won’t have a choice if you come near her again. You are not the father and you will not endanger this child.” The words were cold, a statement not a request. Looking up at Dimera from his place by Marlena’s side, John felt a flicker of hatred he had never thought possible.





“John, no,” Marlena said, her voice so soft he had to struggle to hear. “It’s it’s true. Oh my God, it’s true.”

He could feel her trembling and his mouth went dry. He tightened his hold on her, dropping his head, his lips close to her ear. “It’s not true. He’s just mad, just trying to get to you. You need to calm down. For the baby, you need to calm down.”

Her skin was clammy, her face still white, but the shakes began to ease and he felt her relax just the slightest bit.

“That night… That night, he drugged me. I never remembered, never thought about it… It’s true, John. I know it is.”

Those Goddamned eyes burned a hole in his back, the old man too content in his victory to bother with words. John fought to keep the rage in check as he gently took Marlena’s hand in his own. He was going to make Dimera choke on this triumph, but at the moment, all he could do was mutter impotent words. “It’ll be okay, Marlena. I promise you, I will make it okay.”

Her smile was tentative, but it was still a smile. If it was meant to comfort him, it failed. “I’m just a little shocked. Just give me a minute, I’ll be… “ The words broke of with a gasp and she doubled over, clenching her stomach.

Wasting no more time on talk, John swept her up in his arms and ran out the door. As he fumbled with the passenger door of the truck, Stefano’s heavy hand clamped onto his shoulder. He spun angrily around, only to find Dimera backing away, his hands halfraised in a show of peace. “Use my limo, John. There is room to lay her down and the driver can worry about getting us there.”

“Stay the hell away from us, Stefano. I don’t need your help!”

“Forget your anger for a second and think of her, John,” Stefano spat back. “You know I’m right.”

After a second’s hesitation, he turned toward the limousine, not even glancing back at Dimera.

John anxiously paced the hospital corridor, ignoring Dimera who leaned casually against the wall. If he looked at him, he would give in to the need to hit him. If he hit the old bastard once, he would never stop. That wasn’t what she needed. Not now. Not yet.

“Dammit!” John exploded, running his fingers roughly through his hair. “When are they going to let us know something?!”

“John, calm yourself. Marlena was simply… surprised. She’s a strong woman. My child will be fine.”

John grimaced, his hands curling into fists. “You son of a bitch,” he hissed, knowing better than to turn and face Dimera. “You raped her. I should kill you for that. Here and now, I should kill you.”

Stefano wisely bit off further comment as Mike Horton approached them. “John? Marlena asked me to tell you that both she and the baby are fine. She wants to see you.” Ignoring Dimera, Mike grabbed John’s arm as he moved toward the private room. “John, she doesn’t need any more stress in her life right now. It wouldn’t be good for her or the baby. Do you understand me?”

“I won’t do anything to hurt her, Mike. I promise you that.” Brushing by Mike, John hurried down the hall, already searching for words that could make this all right for her. It was impossible to find words that didn’t exist, and he hesitated a long moment before knocking softly on the closed door. When there was no reply, he pushed slowly forward into the room.

Marlena lay in the narrow hospital bed, her arms wrapped around her stomach. She tried to stop shaking, tried to fight down the nausea that rose every time she thought about what had been done to her. The baby wasn’t John’s. It was Stefano’s. She was going to have Stefano’s child.

“Marlena? Are you okay?” he asked softly, squinting through the dimmed lights.

Startled, she looked up at him, managing a smile she didn’t feel. “Mike says I’m going to be just fine. It was… well, such a shock,” she replied. “I’m sorry. I just, I thought this baby was yours, John. It just didn’t occur to me there was another option.”

The tears leaked from her eyes, despite her efforts to hold them back. He was at her side in an instant, his big hand wiping them away. His touch was awkward, tentative and so gently it made her ache. Marlena gave a feeble imitation of a chuckle. “Of course, this does explain why her development has seemed so slow. She’s really three weeks younger than I had thought.”

“She?” John said, smiling faintly. “Are you sure it’s a baby girl?”

None of this was how she had imagined it and she turned away, buried her face in the pillow. Nodding mutely, she let the sobs well up.

“Oh, Doc,” he whispered, his fingers stroking her hair soothing, gentling, never letting the contact between them be broken. “You’re going to have a beautiful baby girl. That’s nothing to cry about.”

“I’m not crying about… I’m not sorry about that, John. It’s just, I wish she was yours. I wish that with all of my heart.”

He touched her as if she would break, but he never stopped touching her. Easing his arms around her, he drew her close, whispered his words in her ear. Tried to make her believe the lies. Tried to make himself believe. “It’s better this way, Doc. It would have hurt you, would have hurt the family, if the child was mine. Dimera won’t ever come near you. I swear to God, he will never even see the child. I’ll kill him if he tries. I promise you.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she said with a broken laugh, her arms curling around his waist, holding onto him like he was the only real thing in her world. “It’s not better. It’s not what I wanted. This little girl should have been ours.”

“I didn’t have the right to be with you, Doc. I know that. I’m no better than Dimera. What I did to you… I’m no better. At least this way, I can protect you. I can protect your child. It is better, baby. I swear to you, it’s better.” He wanted to make it all right. He wanted to make her all right. What he made her was angry.

“It is not better!” She tried to pull away, her tears replaced by a dangerous glint. “I wanted her to be yours. I wanted to hold onto a piece of you. A part of the man you used to be, the man I loved. You owed me that much of you, John!”

“I owe you a lot more than that,” he replied, his hold around her tightening, refusing to let her go. She glared up at him, demanding things he couldn’t give her. Yet to deny her was impossible it had always been so. He bent down, touched her lips with his own. Stole one kiss, then made her give him another. He’d pay for this in eternity and it would be worth ever second he spent in hell.

His arms were strong, too strong to fight. Marlena didn’t want to fight him. She wanted this. This feeling safety, completion, peace. She kissed him back and was whole again for the first time since he had left. If only for a moment, she would forget everything but this feeling.





The tension, the sadness, slowly began to ease. She leaned back in his arms, words she couldn’t say demanding their release. The words were halfway out when the door slammed violently open. Roman stood frozen, his eyes wide as he took in the scene.

“So, I guess you told him?” Roman spat, murder in his eyes as he looked down on his wife in the arms of his enemy. “I hope you two are very happy together. Rape is such a lovely foundation for a family!”

“Roman!” Her protest went unheeded, the door swinging shut behind his retreating form.

“Damn...” John breathed the word out, slowly releasing her from his embrace. “I’m sorry, Doc. I didn’t mean… I’ll get him back. I’m sorry.”

She sat in silence as he strode quickly from her room. Only once she was certain the door had closed behind him did she allow herself to whisper the words.

“John, don’t go.”

John sprinted down the hallway, ignoring Dimera’s startled face as he sped by. The elevator doors slammed shut as he reached them and he didn’t wait around for the next one. Taking the stairs three at a time, he reached the lobby just as Brady walked past.

The only sound Roman made was a surprised grunt as John crashed into him. One quick blow and Roman was doubled over, gasping for breath.

John tried to enjoy the moment, but his distaste and his envy far outweighed the thrill of the violence. He flashed a manic grin at the elderly couple standing next to the elevator, watching the scene with confusion and fear.

“Don’t worry it’s just something he ate. You should probably avoid the meatloaf in the cafeteria,” he said as he propelled Roman’s stumbling body into the nearby cover of the hospital chapel.

“Let go of me,” Roman wheezed, jerking feebly against the hands around his shoulders.

“Fine with me.” John gave a rough shove and Roman collapsed against one of the pews that lined the darkened chapel. “You think I want to be here? You think I want to see your damn face? I don’t give two shits about you one way or another, Brady. But you hurt her. You insulted her. You’re so God damn stupid you’d turn your back and walk out on her! For some unknown reason, Marlena loves you. She wants you. Hell, she tried to tell me the baby was yours! You don’t deserve her, Roman, but if she wants you, then you are going to be there for her. The only way you will leave her is in a box. Am I making myself clear?”





“This isn’t any of your business, John.” Roman replied, finally managing to stand. “You have no right to that child. You have no right to Marlena! She was only with you because she thought you were me. You need to get the hell out of our lives!”

Brady looked like he wanted to start swinging and John dearly wished he would try it. An excuse, any excuse, that was all John asked. Squaring his shoulders, he smiled his most insulting grin, tried to buy himself that excuse. “She will always be my business, Roman. Always. You should be grateful. After all, I’m the only thing that’s going to be standing between Dimera and his child.”

Roman’s face paled, his head shaking back and forth. “You’re a liar. Marlena would never let him touch her. Never.”

“Since when does Dimera ask permission? If you turn away from her now, I swear I will make you hurt before you die.”

“I wouldn’t.... I love her. I would never do that,” Roman stammered, the implications weighing him down, making him ill.

“You just did, you lousy little bastard,” John spat, ignoring the footsteps that sounded behind him. Ignoring everything but the need to give Marlena what she wanted. That was what mattered. It was all that mattered.

“Gentlemen, please! This is a house of God.” The priest hurried up the carpeted isle, drawn by the angry words, the raised voices. Father Donovan could feel the tension, the hatred that flowed between the two men. Worried that violence was immanent, he reached out to pull John back.





The touch of the hand was all the trigger that John needed and he spun in his tracks, his fingers locking around the smaller man’s throat. Only the sight of the collar prevented him from snapping the fragile neck. With a conscious effort, he forced himself to loosen his grip. “God’s not home right now. Why don’t you come back when he is. This is private business, preacher.”

“John, stop it! John!”

Roman’s words penetrated the haze. With a frustrated grunt, John let go, the priest sagging away from him. Closing his eyes, he tried to clear the red fog from his mind, tried to find some focus for his hate. Some focus he could destroy. “You take care of her, Roman,” he finally grated out, refusing to face Brady. “You take care of her and leave Dimera to me.”

“Well, John? I’m waiting. How is she? Is the baby okay?” Dimera was irritated and it showed. He scowled at John as the younger man walked slowly toward him, seemingly in no hurry to give him the answers he needed.

“Congratulations,” John replied sarcastically. “You’re going to have a baby girl. She appears to be perfectly healthy, and as you already know, she is due in another four months. Enjoy this moment, Dimera, because this is as close as your ever going to get to playing the proud papa.”

“Don’t be foolish, John. You should know me better. I will claim my child. Roman Brady will not be much of an obstacle. In fact, I doubt he will even be with Marlena for much longer. My sources tell me he’s been sleeping in the guest room since his return, on the rare occasions he has been in Salem at all. Roman’s no threat to me, not anymore. You saw to that.”

“You’d be surprised at what I’ve seen to, Stefano. Roman will be staying with Marlena, you can count on it. And Roman isn’t the one you have to worry about. You go near Marlena, you go near her child, you will deal with me old man.”

The stunned look on the big man’s face was almost enough to make John laugh. It felt good to know there was someone else on the planet who was as pissed off as he was. The adrenalin surged, the giddy urge for violence rising. Cackling laughter sang through his mind, the dark gods calling to him. He reached out, his fingers trailing down Dimera’s thick neck, making a pretense of adjusting the man’s tie. Stefano’s face grew red, his own anger clear to see. John leaned forward, whispering his challenge. “If you want to finally establish which of us is the best, try going near her again. One of us will die, Stefano. I promise you. And we both know who the better soldier is.”

He was alone and that was as it should be. He hurt those around him. He tainted them, he tortured them and in the end, he killed them. He stood on the pier and looked out over the water, trying not to listen for the sound of her footsteps. She would come to him on the pier. She would always come to him here. He wanted her to come. He wanted the child to be his. He wanted to own them both, forever and ever, amen.

A bitter chuckle rumbled through his chest and he wiped at his face, surprised by the tears that streaked his cheeks. This was what he got for allowing himself to hope. He had known better, had known she wasn’t his. She had never been his, just one more stolen treasure he’d had no right to take. It was an insult to her to pretend otherwise.

He should be grateful it wasn’t his baby. His daughter. He didn’t need any children. Didn’t want any children. He would only fail them. Let them down when they needed him the most. He should be grateful....

“Kat?"

He whispers prayers he knows won’t be answered and walks on down the hall.

He should be grateful…

Damn. Where to go from here? It would be easiest just to leave. Get the hell out of this fucked up town, this fucked up situation. He had more than enough money to last a lifetime. Maybe he could go to some nice warm Carribean island and drink himself to death. The image forced a chuckle from him and the tension began to ease. He would make a terrible drunk. He would get bored in two days. If he wanted to off himself, he should just use a gun. Take the coward’s way out.

He snorted at the thought. Too many people wanted him dead, he’d be damned if he’d make it that easy for them. Turning from the pier, he headed for the Salem Inn. He would stay there. See what happened. Watch over the family until he knew they were safe. Safe from Dimera. Safe from himself. 

-----

Roman sat in the small hospital chapel. He could feel the priest’s eyes watching him. He ignored the eyes, his words meant for God alone only God could help him now. For the first time since he had come back, Roman Brady prayed.

He prayed for forgiveness. He prayed for guidance. It had all gone so terribly, terribly wrong. All he had wanted to do was pick up where he had left off to have the family he had dreamed of for all of the long years locked in that damn cell. That family was gone. He had realized it the moment he had entered the house, the home he had created with Marlena and his children. The home that wasn’t his anymore.

Everything he saw, everything he touched, it had belonged to someone else. John might have been gone, but his presence lurked in every picture, every piece of furniture, every damn poster on his son’s walls. Baseball players. Yankee pennants. Roman didn’t even like baseball, yet there was ‘his’ mitt sitting in the corner with Eric’s own, waiting for their weekend game of catch a game he had never played. With a sigh, he admitted that he had been free for over four months and he still hadn’t played that game of catch.

The fault was his. He had let his anger consume him, his bitterness over the fact that they had accepted someone else in his place. Anger, pain, maybe even fear the fear that he wouldn’t be as good a father as the one they had had he had let it all drive him away. He had avoided his family by focusing on the men who had taken him away from them and now he might have lost them for good.

Please, God the baby could not be Dimera’s. He had been angry when he found out that Marlena was pregnant. The baby, it would have been a constant reminder of how she had betrayed him with another man. He had been angry at both of them. But in his heart, he had known that John wouldn’t claim the child, that he would not try and take it from Marlena. And there had been satisfaction in knowing that the man would watch from afar as Roman raised his only child. There had been a cosmic justice in that.

Roman had felt almost guilty at John’s trial, seeing the things that had been done to him, remembering the evidence of his own eyes. He had actually been relieved when the man had been set free. He had thought it had signaled a new beginning. A fresh start. How wrong could one man be?

Stefano was not John. He would not let go of this child. He would not care what Marlena wanted. No, Dimera would use this to his advantage. Use it to draw her closer.

Bowing his head, Roman Brady prayed.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…

“Roman!” Marlena laughed. “You do not have to be so careful with me. They only kept me in the hospital overnight for observation. Mike says I’m perfectly fine.”

“You are not fine, you are pregnant. And I am going to cater to your every whim from this point on.” Matching actions to words, he bowed before her as he unlocked the front door.

With a grin, Marlena took the proffered hand and walked in, only to be greeted with a shouted, “Surprise!!” The twins were waiting in the living room, a cake with burning candles on the table.

“Welcome home, Mom!” Sami called out, a smile on her face.

Marlena laughed, recognizing the fact that they were trying to take her mind off of her problems the scare of a miscarriage, the knowledge of the baby’s father. She was surprised to find that it was working. “So what are the candles for?”

“Why, to decorate the cake, of course,” Roman replied teasingly.

“Well then, what is the cake for,” she asked, sighing in mock exasperation.

“The cake is for all those chocolate urges you get when you are in this ‘hormonal state’.”

“Oh, now really I’m not that bad. Am I, you guys?” she asked, looking around at her children for support. Without hesitation, they collectively nodded their heads and she burst out laughing. “Well, come on then. Let’s dig into this cake.”

Marlena lay back in the kingsized bed. After all these months, it still felt wrong to be sleeping in it alone. Unconsciously, her hand floated across the empty spot where he should be. He wouldn’t be back he couldn’t be. She just wished she could get used to a life without him.

Still, for the first time in a long while, she felt hope. John had been right, it didn’t matter who the father of her baby was. This baby was hers, that was all that mattered. She laid a hand on her belly, marveling at the feel of an elbow poking her hand. Oh! Maybe that was a knee! She smiled, realizing how she had missed the feel of this. She wished she had someone to share it with.

Roman. He had tried so hard today. He finally seemed to be trying to reconnect with his family. She owed him that chance. She had loved him once. With all her heart, she had loved him. Before she had met John, she had loved him.

Her fingers tapped across the slight swell of her stomach in silent communication with the child inside. She had loved Roman, but to take him back into her bed into her heart… Even thinking about it seemed a betrayal- a betrayal of herself. But Roman was her husband. By both God’s law and man’s, he was still her husband. If Roman still wanted to be with her, she owed it to him to try. The least she could do was try.

She glanced at the clock. Only 10:30 not too late for a little snack before she turned in for the night. Roman definitely remembered how she was when she was pregnant the hormones made chocolate more a need than a desire. With a small smile, she eased from the bed and tiptoed out of the room.

Light showed from under the crack in the kitchen door and she wondered who had beat her to the fridge. The sound of an angry voice made her hesitate, her hand on the doorknob John’s name, spat out like an epitaph, and she froze in place.

“I told you, John Black is not the primary target. Dimera is the head of the cartel. He’s the one we have to take down.” Roman’s voice, even muffled by the closed door, was easy to hear.

There was a long pause and Marlena realized he was talking to someone on the kitchen phone. His voice rang out, louder this time. “No! That is not an option. It makes us no better than they are. Killing him is not an alternative. What is your problem? Dimera is the one in charge. Even if you took Black out, the cartel would still go on. If this is some kind of personal vendetta, you can count me out!”

“No, don’t you even pretend to threaten me. I have enough on you to take you and your whole organization down. If you start killing people, that is exactly what I will do!”

The phone made a loud crash as it was slammed angrily down. Marlena slowly pushed the kitchen door open, stopping in the entry to look at her husband.

Roman turned from the phone, his eyes darting guiltily away when he saw her. “How long have you been standing there?”





“Long enough,” she replied. “Roman, tell me what is going on. What are you involved in? What does it have to do with John?”

“It’s just work stuff nothing you have to be concerned about,” he replied, still avoiding her eyes.

“It didn’t sound like work, Roman. It sounded like threats. I have a right to know what’s going on. I want you to tell me!” Going to the kitchen table, she sat down and looked at him, prepared to wait all night if that’s what it took.

“I will take care of this. Now is not a good time for you to be getting upset about things.”

“I worry about the things I don’t know. Now, please tell me. Did you have anything to do with John and the diamonds?”

“Remind me not to forget what a smart woman you are, Doc,” he replied almost sheepishly, easing himself down in the chair opposite her. “But, as to your question yes, I helped set John up on the smuggling charges.”

She blinked back the disappointment and took his hand in hers. “I want to know everything.”

“Roman, why? Why would you go along with such men?”

Roman shrugged, knowing he didn’t have good answers to her questions. “I was mad, Marlena. I saw Stefano getting away with it. Getting away with everything he had done to me to us. At the time, it just seemed that bending the rules a little to get to somebody like him, it seemed worth it.





“I swear to you, Doc I was after Dimera. I didn’t know John was involved in the operation. But when I saw him… John started to lecture me about being here for you and the kids. Well, I guess it struck a nerve. All I could think of was bringing him down. Showing him up. I called my contact and told him I had a high level member of the cartel located. I told him how we could work it, how we could set him up. I’m sorry, Marlena. I know it was the wrong thing. But I promise you, I will make sure it all works out. I know it was wrong and I’m going to fix it. You believe me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” she replied. “I know you will make this right, Roman. I trust you. You should know that. But what are you going to do? That conversation I overheard sounded ugly.”

Roman nodded. “They wanted me to help set John up again. But this time, the goal was to get him out into the open, get a good shot for a sniper. They wanted me to help them kill him.”

“They want him dead?” she asked, her face going white. “They would do that. Just shoot him down in the street?”

“Yea they would. And it doesn’t make sense. John isn’t even the head of the organization, but it’s like they’re fixated on him. I get the distinct impression that I’m doing somebody’s dirty work and that is going to stop. It wasn’t an empty threat when I told my contact that I had evidence against the members of the Brotherhood. I’ve managed to identify most of the members. I’ve got good intelligence on their operations, funding and structure. I’m going to turn it all over to Jameson and bust this organization wide open! I will make this right, Marlena. I will.”

Instinctively, Marlena reached over and held his hand in her own. “Are you sure it’s safe? These men sound dangerous.”

“It’s the only option. If I won’t go along with them, they are bound to view me as a threat. The safest thing for me to do is get the information to the authorities,” he replied, squeezing her hand. “It really will be okay. Now, why don’t you get back to sleep. You and the baby need your rest. And I have a lot of work to do if I’m going to get these files in to Jameson tomorrow.”

Standing, he offered his hand and she took it. As he helped her up, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Roman. Thank you for being honest with me. It’s nice to know some things will never change.”

Roman half stumbled into the kitchen, still tired after too little sleep.

“Well, hello sleepyhead!” Marlena called with a smile, looking up from the kitchen table. “You missed the kids, they already headed off to school.”

He flashed her a grin and took the chair across from her, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands. “Sorry I missed them. Stayed up later than I thought working on this report,” he said, tossing a thick file on the table.

“I was up too thinking about it,” she replied, ignoring the folder. “Roman does John know you were the one who set him up in Paris?”

“Probably. It’s not that hard to figure out. Why?”

She stared down at the table top, her shoulders lifting in a shrug. “You don’t think he would do anything about it, do you?”

“No. I really don’t think he will. I mean, he could have been waiting for the outcome of the trial, but he’s had enough opportunities already. If he wanted to, to retaliate, he probably already would have. I didn’t get the impression that subtlety is his strong point. Besides, he knows it would hurt you.”

Her cheeks flushed and he felt the familiar surge of jealousy. He’d be damned if he’d let it come between them once again. “Marlena, it’s okay that you still care about him. Really, it is,” he said, cupping her chin in his hand and tilting her head up until she had no choice but to meet his eyes.

“I may not like it, but I do understand it,” Roman continued softly.

“I never meant to hurt you, Roman. I hope you know that,” she whispered, blinking back the tears.

“Never doubted it, Doc. Not for a second.

“Now you need to quit worrying about John Black. He’s not gunning for me. Hell, he even told me I’d better stay with you or else! John isn’t a threat to us anymore. Once I bust this whole Brotherhood organization, he might even thank me!”

As he had hoped, that elicited a smile.

“Well, I wouldn’t count on it,” she chuckled, brushing at her eyes. “But I do think you’re right. He knows how important you are to everyone he wouldn’t risk hurting you. I just, I don’t know him anymore and sometimes that scares me. Sometimes, he scares me.”

He trailed his finger across her cheek, wiping away the last of the tears. “Doc, I don’t want you scared, not of anything. After today, this will all be over. I called Jameson, the Assistant Director. Told him the whole story. I’ve got to meet him at 11, turn over the files, and then this is all out of my hands.

“And Doc? When I see him, I’m turning in my resignation. I’m going back to being just a plain old cop. We won’t have to worry about Dimera, or John, or the ISA again. Okay?”

“It’s more than okay, Roman. Thank you.” Becoming uncomfortable at the intensity of his gaze, she drew back. “Why don’t you go get a shower, I’ll clean up in here.”

Roman walked into the kitchen, dressed in a suit and tie and feeling like he was finally home again. “Better?” he asked, striking a model’s pose.

She looked up from the files and flashed him that dazzling smile. “Much.”

“Doc, you really don’t need to be worrying about that stuff,” he said, peering over her shoulder at the pile of pictures she had strewn across the table.

“Sorry, I just meant to take a peek. This is fascinating, Roman. Do you really think all of these men are involved in the Brotherhood?”

“Marlena, that’s really a pretty small group for an operation like this. I’ve probably missed one or two, but I’ve got dossiers on 18 men who I know are involved in the organization. Those are their pictures that I had put so nicely in order,” he teased. “The list of names is mostly just soldiers, the enforcers they send out to do their dirty work. Given enough time, though, this group could have builtup a real power base. It’s a good thing I’m getting it in to Jameson before they can get completely entrenched. Now, help me get this stuff together. I need to get out of here.”





As she walked him out the front door, he casually reached down to hold her hand in his. Walking arminarm with his wife, he recognized for the first time that he might actually have a chance to get his family back. When they reached the car, he leaned against the door and she shifted in his arms to face him. The uncertainty was still in her eyes and he opted for a quick peck on her cheek. “Hey, how about tonight, we go out? Do a little celebrating, just the two of us. After I drop this file off, we’ll finally be able to concentrate on us for a change.”

She glanced away, and for a moment he thought she would make excuses. Instead, she looked up and gave him a broad grin. “I would love to go out, just the two of us.”

“It’s a date, then,” he said, indulging in a tight hug. “Wear something slinky!”

“Oh, right! I’ll look really sexy with this bowling ball in my belly!” she called, laughing as he slammed the door shut. With one last wave, she turned to go back into the house, already trying to figure out what she had in her closet that still fit. None of her maternity wear was really suited for a night on the town. Maybe it was time to do a little shopping…

The honk of a horn stopped her before she got halfway to the door.

“Make sure it’s something red,” he called, leaning out the car window. “I love you in red!” He loved her in anything, but had sense enough not to say so just yet. Still holding her eye, he shifted into reverse and the car went up in a flash of light.

His smile was the last thing she saw before the white fire consumed her. 

-----

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

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

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

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





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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is she alive?”

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

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

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





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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t do this.”

Long minutes passed.

“I know,” John finally whispered.

“Whoever did, they are dead.”

“I know that too.”

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

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





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

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

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

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

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

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

“And the baby?”

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

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

John stood, watching Dimera who was watching the floor.

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

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

“No.” It was an order not a request.

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

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

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

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

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

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





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

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

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

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

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

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





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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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





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

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

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

-----

John sat in the chair behind Dimera’s desk as the first rays of the sun peeked through the windows. Absently, he rubbed at the knuckles of his right hand, felt the crusts of blood scrape like sand beneath the pad of his thumb. With detached interest he dug harder, releasing a thin trickle of sluggish blood. The ability to still feel something was a surprise, even if the only feeling was pain.

Giving a halfgroan, he shook his head, found himself sipping on cold coffee, and pulled the pack of Marlboros toward him. Last night had seemed like the perfect time to start smoking again. Leaning back in the seat, he stretched out aching muscles and sucked the acrid smoke deep into his lungs. He let it mix with the bitterness of the stale coffee, realizing just how bone deep tired he was. When he was younger, he had gone for days on nothing but caffeine and nicotine. At the moment, however, he felt exhausted and vaguely ill his mind numb, his brain too tired to think. He gave up on thinking and let the memories play through his mind, trying to see what he had missed the night before.

Consumed with worry and guilt, he had been unable to deal with Dimera, to deal with the issue of what he owed and to whom. He had gotten Stefano home and tried to put him to bed, his focus on one thing, the only thing that mattered. Marlena. Marlena and those who threatened her.

The old man had refused to leave the study, so John had left him sitting, alone on the couch. John had enough demons of his own, he’d had no desire to share the ones Stefano had brought down on himself. Instead, he had put the entire Dimera organization into high gear, every operative, every contact given one overriding order find out who was responsible for the hit on Roman Brady.

At first, the hours had passed swiftly. Leads came in. Were evaluated. Were dismissed. As day had turned to night, the leads had become fewer. Possible suspects had been eliminated. Contacts had comeup empty. It was well after midnight before they had exhausted the available alternatives. When Dimera finally lost the battle to with sleep, John had halfcarried him up to bed. He’d left Dimera to his nightmares and come back down to continue the search. The sun now rose on a new day, and still he sat, trying to find some sign, some subtle hint that would lead them to their quarry.

The hit on Roman made no sense. If anyone was going to kill him, it would have been Dimera. But John would stake his soul on the fact that, perhaps for the first time, the old man was actually innocent. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t have killed Roman, John knew better than that. But he would never done it in such a sloppy way, never done it in a way that could possibly endanger Marlena and her children. Especially not her unborn child.

It hadn’t been Dimera, but it was obviously a professional. They had already gotten the initial police and arson squad reports through ‘informal’ channels, of course. It had been C4, triggered through the gearbox. The car had goneup when shifted into gear. The fact that it had been a pro was probably the only thing that had saved Marlena’s life. The explosion had been powerful but directed. The force of the blast had disintegrated the interior of the car and everything in it, but the destruction had been localized. If it hadn’t been a professional, Marlena would almost certainly have died too. John decided he would show his appreciation to the expert who had set the bomb by giving him an easy death.

He sighed, dragging deeply on the cigarette and fighting the urge to cough. The fact that it was a professional hit had eliminated 99% of the street punks who might have wanted to see a police Captain laid out. But there just wasn’t any reason for anyone else to be interested in Brady. Since Roman had been back, the man had devoted all of his attention to bringing down Dimera. He hadn’t had time to piss off anyone else!

The ‘Brotherhood’ was the only other option John could comeup with. They were the only other professionals Roman had been connected to but they were not an alternative that made much sense. Roman was working with the organization, of that John had no doubt. There was no reason for the Brotherhood to kill one of their own and if they had wanted to get rid of Brady, they could have just ‘disappeared’ him. There was no reason for the organization to go to such dramatic lengths to take Roman out.

None of it made a damn bit of sense, no matter how many ways he looked at the problem. He’d even run down the possibility that Marlena had been the target some deranged patient with a military background, perhaps. There was nothing. The most powerful criminal cartel in the world at his beck and call, and he had nothing…

Groaning in frustration, he rubbed tired eyes and realized he had killed off the last of the stale coffee. Briefly, he considered going back to the Inn, trying to get some sleep. He could imagine nothing more depressing than laying in that strange bed, staring at the ceiling, seeing the images of Marlena and fire and dead children.

He lurched to his feet and stumbled to the wet bar. Grabbing the first bottle that came to hand, he wove his way back to the chair. Not bothering with a glass, he sank into the thick leather and let the vodka flow down to make war with the coffee that was already busy trying to burn a hole in his stomach. Lighting the third cigarette in a row, he considered the costs and benefits of sitting there behind Dimera’s desk and getting puking drunk. He would still dream, but maybe he wouldn’t remember it when he woke up.

Startled from his revery by Dimera’s heavy tread, he opened his eyes to see the man stalking toward him dressed in his clothes from the night before.

“Get out of my chair.”

John leaned back, giving Dimera an insolent stare. He noticed the dark bruise covering the right side of the man’s face and felt the satisfaction of knowing he had put it there. He brought the bottle to his lips and drank deeply, suppressing a shudder as the liquid fire spread through him. Arrogantly, he rose from the chair and stepped to Stefano, his physical proximity a thinly veiled threat.





“Fine. I was just leaving, anyway.”

With no idea where he was going, John was almost to the door when he felt Dimera’s big hand grab his shoulder. He spun around, his fingers curling into fists, and Stefano released him.

“You are not going anywhere, John. You created this mess. You are damn well going to clean it up!”

“I did not do this!” John shot back, trying to keep his fear from showing his fear that Dimera was right.

A thick finger jammed into his chest, the glare on Dimera’s face a match for the rage John felt building. “You took Roman out of my compound. It was your action that put her at risk! Then, when I should have been concentrating on Marlena, on my child, I’m dealing with your insolence! I’m busy tracking you down because you felt the need to run off and sulk! You should have been here and you were not. You should have obeyed and you did not. You did this to her, John. You!”





Slapping the arm away, John tried to fight the words, to deny their reality. And if he couldn’t escape the knowledge of his fault, he’d be damned if he’d go down alone. “You made me do this to her, Dimera! You made me tear her whole life apart! You made me, you son of a bitch!”

He needed it to belong to someone else. The guilt. The blame. He needed it to belong to someone else so that he would have something to break. The rage sparked, the heat of it washing through him. The rage was so much better than the guilt. He lashed out, swinging wildly, like a child. Joy at the first impact the feeling of forgiveness, the feeling of redemption. Redemption was always paid for in blood.





The blow was a glancing one but it shattered Dimera’s nose, knocking him back, scattering the papers on the edge of the desk. There was no skill in the attack. Skill wasn’t wanted. It wasn’t needed. John grabbed the big man by the collar, ripping him off the desk, slamming him against the bookshelves, hammering him with his fists.

The intent was not to kill but to destroy to pulverize the body before him, beat it into dust, make it as if it had never existed. His vision narrowed to a pinprick and John almost missed the shadow that shifted in the corner of his eye.

A glimpse of movement, reflected in the big mirror over the bar, demanded him. He turned, aware of Stefano’s heavy body falling to the floor, and his booted foot smashed Jensen in the groin before he ever recognized the man’s face. Wanting only to finish what he has started, to finish Dimera, he was stopped as Bryce ran through the open door. The young bodyguard stood frozen in the center of the room, looking for some outside enemy. John’s shoulder took him in the gut, lifting him off of his feet. The room shook as their bodies plowed into the hard brick of the fireplace and Bryce dropped to the ground.

The blood pounded in his ears, the only sound he could hear. John reached down, fingers curling around the smooth wood of a thin log. The heft of it in his grip was right, the long dark hallway calling to him. John focused his attention on Dimera’s groaning form, the trace of a smile curving his lips.

Thought was unnecessary. Thought was unwanted. The movements of this dance were familiar, seared into his soul many years before. He stalked smoothly across the floor, his bat held high. The gold framed mirror above the bar looked down on him, a silent witness to what he had become. The mirror’s truth was the last thing on earth he wanted to see.

He slammed the stick into the face of the man who owned the guilt, the glass shattering around him. He pounded the face into a million shimmering fragments, splintered diamonds that sliced through his flesh. He stopped his assault only when the wood cracked beneath his bloodied hands.

Staggering back, accompanied by the crunch of the glass, he dropped his broken club. Shining within his razor sharp shroud, John blinked unseeing eyes. The huddle of guards gaping at him from the door called him back, their fear a familiar anchor to his world. With a tired sigh, he ordered them to call for the doctor.

John sat behind the big desk, the sun slanting through the windows behind him the only source of light. Surrounded by the shadows, he watched the glint of the sun as it caressed the silver of the metal, the weapon in his hands a perfect balance of form and function.

The room was quiet, a tomb of his own creation. The servants and guards were too afraid to approach him, too afraid to come near. Damn… He should check on Dimera. Should learn the extent of the damage he had wrought. Instead, he looked back at the gun. Dropped the clip. Checked the chamber.

When they had carried Stefano out the man had been only halfconscious, the pounding John had given him more than even his heavy frame could take. Bryce had managed to walk out on his own. Jensen had refused to even try to stand. They had carried the wounded from the room, their fear pervading the air. He had known then that the organization was his for the taking. No one who worked for Dimera would oppose him, their fear of John now greater than their fear of the old man. A victory of sorts.

In celebration of his victory, he brought the barrel of the gun under his chin. Cocked the hammer. Pulled the trigger.

The disappointment was expected as the pin clicked on an empty chamber. Closing hollow eyes, he prayed to whatever Gods would listen for the day she would be safe. That was the day he could be free.

He stepped quietly into the darkened room. Dimera slept, his face pale against the pillow that cradled his head. Moving soundlessly, John sank down in the chair beside the big bed. Noting the darkening smear of the bruises, he winced at the knowledge that this was his gift to the man who had raised him. The man who had taught him how to control the rage. He lay his head back, staring at a point beyond the ceiling. Apparently, Stefano had not taught him quite well enough.

“Are you here to finish the job?”

John saw the glint of a dark eye, noting the dreamy quality of a mind befuddled by the drugs that fought off the pain. Still, the challenge shone through, despite the chemicals, despite the pain. He allowed himself a tight grin, recognizing that the old man had no fear. No fear of him. No fear of death. He wondered if it was the will of some sick and twisted universe that the two of them had found each other.

“The guard should not have let you in,” the voice continued to ramble, undeterred by John’s failure to answer.

“The guards do what I tell them to do.”

Dimera’s attempt at a laugh turned into a groan of pain, bruised ribs protesting the slight movement. “Ahh… The king is dead. Long live the king.”

“You are hardly dead, Stefano sometimes I think you never will be. You’re going to live forever, old man the one constant in my life,” John replied softly, his words both an accusation and a plea.

“If you are asking my forgiveness, John, you will have to do better than that. Much better.”





John’s laugh was bitter. “You raped her, Stefano. You took her against her will. You made a child that should never have been yours. I’m not sorry for your pain. I’m sorry for hers.”

“Then why are you here? Why did you stay?”

“Where else do I have to go?” John replied, his eyes once again seeking the heavens.

For a moment, Stefano managed to make his mind focus. He studied the man slouched in the chair across from him. Even in the relaxed pose, the muscles of his neck seemed to twist. That lean body was primed to explode, the quick pulse of the veins an indicator of the shortness of the fuse. As Dimera let himself drift back into the darkness, he decided that those who played with fire should not complain when they got burned.

John kicked his bare feet up to rest on the heavy desk, stifling a moan. Dressed only in an old pair of grey sweatpants, he enjoyed the feel of the smooth leather against his bare back. He blinked eyes that were gritty from lack of sleep, his only relief in the past two days the couple of hours he had napped at Dimera’s bedside.

He had awakened to find Stefano still lost in the silent solitude of sleep. Moving quietly, he had left him there. A hot shower had washed away the last of the glass that had buried itself in his body, the sting of the cuts a welcome distraction from his own dark thoughts. Sleep had been an impossibility, the threat of dreams a Hell he was not ready to visit. Instead, he had returned to the office, relieved to find the carnage of the morning wiped clean by obsequious servants.

As night had again descended on the world outside, he had studied the reports and stared at the pictures. Pictures of her family. Pictures of her. Pictures were all he had left of her now.

The picture he held now was grainy, clipped from the afternoon paper. In the blurry photo, he thought she looked lost, an abandoned child left alone by those who should be there for her. It was the picture from Roman’s memorial, held at the hospital so that she could attend. Surrounded by friends and family, she still looked all alone.

John was lost in the picture of his family when he sensed his presence in the room. Looking up, he was not surprised to find Dimera on his feet.

“You should be in bed,” John said mildly, noting the bandages that wrapped the man’s chest through the loosely tied robe.

“And you should stay off of my desk,” Dimera shot back, asserting his authority.





Not wanting another fight, John wordlessly got to his feet, allowing the man his dignity. As Dimera settled gingerly down behind his desk, John walked over to collapse across the arms of an overstuffed chair.

“What have you discovered about Brady’s death?”

“There is nothing, Stefano. Nothing new has come out since you went to bed last night,” John answered, easily immersing himself in the familiarity of this game, this role as Stefano’s soldier. They both knew that it was not the same. For the moment, they were both willing to pretend.

“There has to be something. You are missing something. I know it.”

John merely grunted and waved a hand at the files strewn across the desk. “Look for yourself. There’s nothing there.”

Stefano didn’t bother with a reply and John allowed his gaze to drift across the room. “There’s a picture of her on the desk. Today’s paper. It was taken at Roman’s memorial service.” He avoided looking at Stefano as the man pickedup the scrap of paper and looked down on the woman he had wanted for so long.

“She is beautiful, isn’t she,” Stefano said softly, speaking to himself as much as to John.

“Yea. She really is… We should never have tried to touch something so pure, Stefano. We should have known we would end up destroying it.”

“This is not what I meant for her, John. You know that. I never meant her any pain.”

“Neither did I. It’s rather moot now, isn’t it?”.

“She will be all right, won’t she?” Dimera asked, certain that John would know.

“Yes. Physically, she will be fine. There’s a copy of the doctor’s report in there somewhere. They’ll keep her for another day or two, but I think that’s mostly Bo’s doing. He wants to her someplace safe while he tries to figure out what’s going on. We were lucky all she lost was a child and a husband.”

Stefano simply gave him a hard stare and turned his attention back to the files piled up on his desk. As the old man searched the papers for an answer he wouldn’t find, John closed his eyes and surrendered to the dreams. He’d been wrong about the dreams Hell would have been an improvement.

This was the last place on earth John wanted to be, but two days had passed and they were still no closer to discovering those responsible for the bombing. The only person left to talk to was Marlena if she would even see him.

He walked slowly down the long corridors of the hospital, in no rush to get where he was going. If he was really lucky, this wouldn’t go as badly as the ‘meeting’ with Bo Brady had the day before. He wasn’t feeling lucky.

He’d been cooped up in the study so long it had seemed he couldn’t remember being anywhere else. When he’d reached the point where his agitated pacing and snide comments had become more than Stefano was willing to putup with, he’d been ordered from the room. Not wishing to break the uneasy truce that existed, he had complied.

Bo’s eyes are cold, his face closed off. Excuses aren’t going to change a thing. John watches in silence as the man who was his brother stomps angrily away.

Bo hadn’t wanted to listen to his lame attempts at an explanation and he didn’t know why he thought that Marlena would be any different. He did think she would be different. She had to be different. If only for her own protection, Marlena had to trust him enough to talk to him and this was the only chance he was likely to get. She was to be released from the hospital today. If he was going to talk to her, it had to be now. He couldn’t approach her in her own home. Not again. Not after the last time. Damn she had to trust him. She always trusted him…

The police officer at her door held up a hand, eyeing John suspiciously. He looked almost disappointed to find John’s name on the list of visitors Marlena had permitted, and the nod he gave was grudging. “You’re cleared to enter. Do you have any weapons, Mr. Black?”

Expressionless, John stripped the shoulderholster from beneath his jacket. With a careless toss behind him, he turned the gun over to his own man, standing at his assigned post directly across from Marlena’s door. “Nope. No weapons, officer.”

Brushing past the frowning guard, John cautiously pushed the door open and walked into the room. Not wanting to give her a chance to kick him out, he pulled the door tightly shut before calling her name.





“Marlena?”

She didn’t open her eyes, but he saw the grimace of pain flit across her features. “Are you here to apologize?”

Walking softly forward, he studied her in the dim light. Bruises ringed her eyes, shone darkly from her pale face. Christ, she looked like a child. The surge of fear and anger at what had been done to her made thought difficult.

“Apologize for what?” he rasped, coming to a halt beside her bed.

“For killing my husband. For killing my baby,” she whispered, as she opened her eyes and looked at his face.

The words hurt. Hearing her say them hurt more than he could have imagined. He stood silently, unable to defend himself when he knew the guilt was deserved, if not for this sin then for others.

His failure to respond to her challenge made her temper to flare. Siting up, she glared at him. “Don’t bother telling me you would never do such a thing!! I have seen your files, John. I have seen the bodies!! I know what you are capable of!”

He groaned inwardly at the thought of what she had seen the depth and breadth of the destruction that was his life. His face hardened, revealing nothing. “Then you ought to know I would never be so careless in my work. If I had killed Roman, I would have done it upclose. Personal. With a knife. I would never have put you at risk.”

“Oh, yes. I will have to try that one the next time I am defending you to the ISA. ‘John says he would have used a knife to kill Roman.’,” she mimicked, her voice sarcastic.

“Marlena, why would I kill Roman? I got him away from Dimera so he could be with you. Why would I kill him?”

“I know why you killed him. He told me. Told me how he set you up in Paris. God, John! If you had only waited! He was going to turn the whole ‘Brotherhood’ gang over to the ISA. That very morning, he was going to turn them in. He was going to make it right with you...” She hugged her arms tightly around herself, trying to stop the shaking in her body.

His eyes narrowed, the pieces of the puzzle coming together. “You know about the Brotherhood?”

“He told me everything,” she said more calmly. Looking away from him, she studied the far corner of the room. “You didn’t have to kill him, John. He was coming clean about Brotherhood.”

“What did he have on them? Do you know?” he asked, trying not to break the spell. Praying that she would answer him.

“He had everything, John. I saw it. Enough to break the entire organization.” She turned a sad smile on him, the bitterness still in her eyes. “You would have had your revenge on the men who framed you, and you wouldn’t have had to kill him.”

“Marlena, this is important! Can you identify the members of the Brotherhood. How much do you know about them?”

She gave a hard laugh and shook her head. “I have to admire your focus, John! All you care about is protecting Dimera! Well don’t you worry. I know everything. Roman told me everything. I’m meeting with the ISA to identify the rogue agents. You can set your mind at ease.”





“Marlena dammit! This isn’t about Dimera! You aren’t safe. As long as you have this information, you’re a target. Don’t you get that? The ISA is compromised. You won’t be safe working with them.”

“Oh, and I would be safe with you?! Was this the plan all along? Kill Roman so you can get me to come back to Stefano? Let him ‘protect’ me? I think I’ll take my chances with the ISA,” she said coldly.

“You aren’t thinking...”

“Get out. Just, get out, John. Don’t come back,” she said tonelessly, staring down at the thin sheet.

Tears she had tried to hold back trickled down her cheeks. He reached to brush them away and she jerked back from him as if burnt. Nothing left for him to say, he turned from her and walked away. 

-----

“Are you sure?” Stefano asked, his face intense as he leaned against the desk.

“No doubt about it. The Brotherhood was responsible for the hit on Roman,” John said with assurance. Sitting crosslegged in the leather armchair, he lit a cigarette and washed the first drag down with a swallow of bourbon. He smiled to himself, relaxing into the hunt. He had a target now the rest would follow.

“Will you put that damn thing out! It reeks,” Stefano snapped in irritation. The old man bit back further comment as he caught a glimpse of John’s face.

“John,” he warned. “You do not need to do anything hasty. We will wait, identify all of the members of the group. Then we will decide how best to deal with them. There is no need to rush this.”

John looked down at the drink in his hand and took another drag off of the cigarette. He raked his fingers through his hair, an indicator of his agitation. “Yea, Stefano, there is a rush. Marlena’s in danger. She told a director at the ISA that she could identify the members of the Brotherhood. That she’d seen the pictures of them. If there is a leak, anywhere along the line, they’ll know she’s a threat.”

Slugging back the remainder of the bourbon, John stood up and tried to gather his thoughts. “We have to do something, Stefano. Right now. We have to do something,” he almost whispered.

Dimera knew the man was right. If the Brotherhood was aware that Marlena could identify them, they would not hesitate to eliminate her, just as they had Roman. That left only one option. Fortunately, it was an option he liked. He gave John a lopsided grin and shrugged. “Our response is obvious, John. You go get Marlena and bring her to one of our compounds. We can protect her until the problem of the Brotherhood is solved.”





“She won’t do it, Stefano. There is no way Marlena will come away with me. If there is one man on this earth she trusts less than you, it’s me.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that you deliver her an invitation, John. I was telling you to go get her. Bring her in so that we can protect her. Her willingness to be protected isn’t relevant to that mission.”

“I thought we were clear on this, Stefano. I will not hurt her for you.”

Annoyed, Stefano rolled his eyes. “Stop being naive, John. I trained you better. Our first priority is to protect Marlena. The men after her are professionals. They will tear through anything the Salem P.D. can put in their way like it’s tissue paper. You know that. The only way to be sure she is protected is to do it ourselves. Do you disagree with that assessment?”

John grimaced, rubbing at the back of his neck. He had never meant to suggest that Stefano’s analysis of the situation was lacking. Dimera’s planned response would no doubt be the most logically viable approach. John knew the man far too well to underestimate his abilities when it came to strategy. However, the thought of delivering Marlena once again into Dimera’s hands seemed a cure that was worse than the disease.

“Stefano, there has to be a better way. To do this right, we have to take not just Marlena, but the children too. If they’re left exposed, they can be used against her. She’d do just about anything to protect her kids. So, we do it right, and we endup trying to keep four people, three of whom are rebellious teenagers, contained. And we don’t want to hurt them, or even restrain them if we can help it. On top of that, we have to do it while keeping professional hitmen from getting to them. This is not what I would consider a sound approach. There has to be a different tact.”

Stefano grinned, almost amused by his recalcitrant agent. “And just what would you suggest, John? I am always willing to consider a creative alternative.”

John smiled coldly back, the idea coalescing quickly in his mind’s eye. “It’s easy. I kill the ISA.”

“Well, yes John. That would be my preference too. I will see the men who killed my daughter destroyed. The problem, of course, is that we do not know who the members of The Brotherhood are. Only Marlena has seen the pictures. Only she can identify the members of the group. We need to get her to a safe house so we can have the time to go through our files, have her identify the faces she recognizes. That was rather the whole point of bringing her in.”

John shook his head, his grin turning predatory. “You misunderstand me. I don’t mean I kill The Brotherhood off. I mean the whole ISA or at least all of it that we have identified in our files. I can organize it tonight. By tomorrow morning, any ISA agent still alive will be too busy running to worry about Marlena, regardless of what she knows about the Brotherhood. We have enough agents in place Stefano. I could pull it off. It would be a pleasure.”

Dimera was impressed, he had thought he had corned the market on hubris. Yet John’s ego appeared to know no limits he was willing to go to war with a government agency just to draw attention from Marlena and her family. And a war would ensue, there was no doubt of that. Even if John obtained optimum results, the structure of the agency would remain and new personnel would replace those killed. Given such a vicious attack, other enforcement agencies would be drawn in. Dimera would be lucky to stay alive, much less maintain his empire. Once he went outside of the rules of the game, he knew there would be no holds barred on either side. Though the very audacity of the plan did have a certain appeal, the potential costs were simply too great. Almost regretfully, Stefano shook his head.

“I’m afraid not, John. Though I would dearly love to observe the carnage that would result if I unleashed you on them, the risk to my empire is too great. The best approach is to stay within the confines of the law. Well, the loose confines, anyway. Bring Marlena and the children to the Blue Ridge compound. I’ll meet you there. Once we have the members of The Brotherhood identified, we can turn the information over to someone we can trust. I’m sure Bo Brady would like to know the identities of the men who killed his brother. If you’re very good, I may even let you take them out yourself. Either way, the first point of business is to get Marlena under our protection. Once we know she’s safe, we can take our time. It’s the only way to be sure, John. You know I’m right.”





John reluctantly nodded, admitting to the wisdom of the plan, if not its ethics. “I’ll gather the men and equipment. I should deliver the family to the Virginia compound within 48 hours.”

The smug grin on Stefano’s face irritated him almost as much as it worried him. Stepping forward, John leaned in close, his eyes icy. “Don’t get cocky, old man. You will not so much as touch Marlena or her children. If you lay a hand on her, it won’t be the ISA who will bring your empire down Sir.”

The utility van parked across from the Brady house had been there for hours. Except for an occasional trip into the manhole, little actual work had occurred. In this sedate neighborhood, however, the sewage workers and their equipment drew little attention and even less suspicion.

Within the shrouded confines of the van, there was a flurry of activity. “Mr. Black?” a man in a gray jumpsuit said urgently into a radio. “The car is on the move, sir. They headed west, just as you expected. There’s no sign of a tail car, but Dr. Evans did have a driver. Plain clothes cop if I had to bet. Do you want us to maintain our current position?”

Several blocks away, John sat in the passenger seat of a dark green Jeep. As he had half expected, Marlena was going to drop the kids off at Bible school herself. With only a single officer to watch over them, they would be vulnerable. Clicking the mike he held in his hand, he issued the orders that would put his plan into action.

“Mom, Bible school is stupid. We are way too old for you to be forcing us to go to some youth group. In fact, I don’t see why I should go to church at all,” Eric complained, slamming the car door shut behind him. Sami sat listlessly in the seat next to him, removed from her surroundings as she had been much of the time lately.

As officer Williams pulled the car away from the curb, Marlena turned in her seat. “You know how important church is, Eric. Especially at a time like this. Everybody needs someone to lean on, in the bad times most of all.” She looked worriedly at her only son, but he refused to meet her eyes. When John had left, and Roman tried to take over as head of the family, Eric had bristled. He had seen it as his place to watch over his mother and sisters, not trusting anyone else to do the job. However, with Roman’s death, feelings of responsibility had changed to feelings of rebellion. Right now, Eric was angry angry at everything and everyone around him. Marlena no longer knew how to reach him.





He refused to look at her, staring blankly out the window. Wondering how she was going to hold her family together when it was all she could do to make herself get out of bed in the morning, Marlena was taken by surprise by the sudden squeal of brakes.

Williams yanked hard on the steering wheel, the sedan coming to a sliding stop less than 10 feet from the 18wheeler blocking the roadway. “Everybody okay?” he called, already reaching for the radio.

Marlena managed to catch her breath, her attention on the kids in the backseat.

“That was too close,” Eric gasped, looking young and vulnerable.

“We’re fine,” Marlena stammered, still trying to figure out the cause of their nearaccident. The truck had been hidden by a bend in the road if Williams hadn’t been paying attention....

She heard the officer’s voice, calling for backup, even as she noticed the reason for the tractor trailer’s precarious position. The rear of the rig had fishtailed and a small passenger car was wedged between it and the guardrail. A man in a jeans and a baseball cap could be seen furiously working with a crowbar to get the bashedin door open. Marlena was halfway out the door before a firm hand grabbed her arm, dragging her back into the car.

“Dr. Evans, you and your family need to stay put until I can check this out. Ambulances are already on the way and will be here shortly. All of you need to stay in the car. I’ll be right back.”

Reluctantly, Marlena settled back into the car seat, willing to wait at least until a patient had been freed from the wreckage. Nerves tense, she watched as Williams jogged toward the mangled car, his hand held firmly on his weapon. He slowed as he reached the man working on the door, then staggered back, clasping at his chest. Marlena was shocked, not at the sight of the detective dropping unconscious to the ground but by the figure that stood beside the downed officer. She would recognize that body, that stance, anywhere. Fighting the urge to panic, she scrambled into the driver’s seat and fumbled with the keys as John Black sprinted toward the car.

John hit the hood of the car and rolled across it as the engine roared to life. Right on cue, the black van squealed around the corner, coming to a stop directly behind Marlena’s car. John watched as she shifted into reverse anyway, the car leaping away from him. The sound of grinding metal filled the air as she tried to ram her way free. Crap! One hard swing with the crowbar he still held, and the side window shattered. Marlena ducked away from the glass, giving John the time he needed to reach through and grab the key.





“God, you’re stubborn!” he muttered, popping the lock and dragging her from the car. Once she was secured, the kids would be more willing to listen to reason. She jerked against his hold, not done fighting, and he pulled her close, trying to ignore the heat of her body. Completely preoccupied, John was an easy target for Eric’s swinging fists.

“Get your hands off of her, you bastard. You have no right,” Eric yelled, charging John with utter recklessness. One wild shot took John square on his lip, snapping his head back just as one of the men from the van grabbed Eric and shoved him back against the car.

John pushed Marlena into the waiting arms of one of the troops, turning to help with the still struggling Eric. He was too late to stop the damage, watching helplessly as Eric dropped like a rock.

“No!” John’s vision blurred, the fury blinding him. He lashed out, his fist catching Eric’s assailant in the neck, stunning him. One swift kick and the man’s knee buckled. The unfortunate soldier tried to crawl under the car and John dragged him back by his belt, intent on stomping the life out of the man who had hit his son.

The sound of distant sirens echoed through the air, stirring the milling men to action. “Sir! Mr. Black we have to go!” yelled Simon Bryce, John’s appointed second in command.

The sirens brought him back and John stepped reluctantly away from the body on the ground. “Is the boy okay?”

“He’s fine, sir. Just a punch to the gut. But we gotta go now!”

“Get them in the back of the van and tape them up. And nobody had better a lay a hand on them. Am I understood?” John asked, glaring around at the forces surrounding him. Nodding briefly at the bloodied man at his feet, he ordered “Clean this mess up and let’s get out of here.”

Marlena and the now gasping Eric were quickly carried toward the van as John opened the rear door of the car. Sami sat huddled and unmoving, clutching her knees to her chest. Despite the need for haste, John tried to keep his voice gentle. “Sami? Samantha, come on out. It’s going to be okay.”

She didn’t respond, not even to look up. Unable to waste any more time, he gathered Sami into his arms and carried her to the waiting van.

Sami’s arms wrapped tightly around him, her words muffled by his chest. “Daddy, I missed you so much. Please don’t go away again. Please, don’t go away again...”

Closing his eyes, he rocked slowly from side to side. “Shhh...I’ve got you Sami. You don’t have to be scared. I’ve got you.”

As Sami’s sobbing eased, John opened his eyes, taking stock of the back of the van and its occupants. The only source of light was the dome, burning brightly in the center of the ceiling. There were no windows, the van heavily padded in order to muffle any sound from reluctant passengers. When he ran out of other places to look, he forced himself to meet her angry gaze. As ordered, Marlena was bound hand and foot with duct tape. Lying propped against the opposite wall, her mouth was taped shut, but her eyes were fixed on John and her daughter. If looks could kill, he’d have already been dead.

Gently disentangling himself from Sami, John shuffled across the lurching floor of the vehicle. With one quick jerk, he tore the tape from her mouth, cringing at her muffled cry.

Gingerly, almost fearfully, he laid his hand on her back to steady her. “Take it easy, Marlena. Everything is going to be okey. We’re here to protect you, not harm you.”





“Where are you taking us? John, please don’t do this to me again. Don’t do this to the children!”

Her eyes blazed, the mixture of fear and anger more than he could stand. “Marlena, calm down. This is the only way to keep you safe. The men who are after you are professional assassins. They killed Roman because they knew he would bring them down. They will kill you for what you know. We have resources the cops don’t have. We can help you identify the men in the Brotherhood. We can stop them.”

Marlena shook his hand off of her shoulder. “And who is ‘we’, John? Are you taking me to Stefano? Are you taking me back to your ‘master’?” she hissed, her face twisted in fury. “I would rather die than go back to him, John!”

John’s face hardened and he crawled away from her. “Your death is not an option, Marlena. You, and your children, will stay at one of Dimera’s compounds until this thing is resolved. After that, you will be free to go. You have my word on it.”





“Your word, John? Your word means nothing to me. Now, if you care about us at all, you will let us go. Right now, John. You will let us go.”

“That’s not an option, Marlena,” John said wearily, leaning over to pull the tape from Eric’s mouth. “Now why don’t you both get some rest. We have a long drive ahead of us.”

Settling back against the wall, he stared into the single light and attempted to make his mind go numb. Zoning out, he felt Sami relax against him, fading into sleep.

As the time ticked by, he felt his mind drift into the nothingness, only to be jarred back to the present by Eric’s voice.

“Does it hurt?”

With a start, John looked over at him, the boy’s level stare disconcerting.

“Your lip. Does it hurt?” Eric repeated.

Gingerly, John touched the dried crust where his lip had split and started to swell. “Of course it hurts.”

“Good.”

With an almost sigh, John leaned his head back against the wall and again sought the nothingness.

Dusk was falling as the helicopter landed in the open field. Peering out of a side window, Marlena saw only virgin forests and the lights of one large home flickering in the distance. She wasn’t even certain what state they were in anymore. After hours in the back of the van, they had transferred to the helicopter. They could be a thousand miles from home and the landscape below gave no hints of where they were.

The blades of the chopper began to slow and she was brought back to the reality of her captivity as John reached forward to grasp her hands. Before she had time to be afraid, a sharp knife sliced through the tape that had bound her wrists.

“Sorry about this, but I didn’t want you two thrashing around in the chopper,” he said, as he efficiently freed Eric’s hands in a similar manner.

“And now you don’t have to worry about us trying to escape?” she asked, trying to elicit at least a little information about their current conditions.

“Subtle, Marlena. Very subtle,” John replied, stepping down into the tall grass and helping Sami from the plane.





Brushing past his extended arm, Marlena jumped lightly down, moving away from him and studying the surrounding woods.

He gave a small sigh, the only sign that her anger bothered him. “If it makes you feel better to know, we are in Virginia in the heart of the Blue Ridge mountains. There isn’t any sign of human habitation for at least 20 miles. That’s 20 miles of rugged country, Marlena. You can shout all you want and no one will ever hear. The only realistic way in or out is by helicopter, and last time I checked, you weren’t a pilot. My advice is too simply sit back and enjoy the scenery, because you aren’t going anywhere until this whole mess is resolved.”

“When I want your advice, I’ll be sure and let you know. Now, if you would care to lead us to our cell, the children and I are tired and hungry.”

The look he flashed her suggested he’d much rather be fighting a pack of rabid dogs than dealing with her. The insight made her feel marginally better.

They emerged from a small stand of trees and Marlena momentarily forgot her fear and anger. The lodge stood before them, glowing warmly in the floodlights. It was a massive structure, built entirely from oak heartwood. The giant trunks were notched to fit snugly over each other, the smallest of the logs at least two feet in diameter. It was an environmentalist’s nightmare but one couldn’t help but be impressed.

As John opened the doubledoors of the entry, the true beauty of the place struck her. Standing in the doorway, she looked across to a sunken great room that stretched half the width of the house. Opposite the entry, a wall of glass surrounded a fieldstone fireplace that towered upward, disappearing into the dim recesses of a cathedral ceiling. Rounded beams of wood bisected the roof, the exposed rafters bearing the load of the immense structure. It was like walking into the world’s largest tree house.





Hesitantly, she stepped forward. The slate of the entryway was hard and cold beneath her feet, and she thought to herself that this was definitely a man’s domain. From the heavy leather furniture to the elk head hung above the fireplace, it appeared to her the epitome of a hunting lodge. Massive of scale, designed and decorated with no expense spared, but a hunting lodge nonetheless.

Eric and Sami gathered at her sides, no one willing to break the almost eery quiet. It was only when he stood up from the wingback chair that she noticed him, but once she did, it was as if the very air of the room carried his stench.

Her breath caught in her throat, her hands twisting themselves into knots as Dimera approached. She felt an involuntary surge of relief when John stepped through the open doorway and planted his body in front of her. She could see the corded muscles of his back through his Tshirt, could sense the tension in his pose. There was a threat in his stance, and Marlena knew that Dimera could see it too. She let out a long shuddering breath, wondering what would happen next.

Stefano tore his eyes from Marlena. “Ahh… I see the mission was a success.”

“Of course,” John replied shortly. Maintaining his position between Dimera and the family, he tried to convince himself that this whole thing would be for the best. Fighting back the urge to simply take Marlena and the kids and leave, he instead asked, “What about Carrie. Have the men assigned to her reported in?”

Dimera noted Marlena’s sharp gasp at the mention of her other daughter, but ignored it. “Yes. They are on the way in right now. They picked her up off campus, she’s already on the plane. ETA’s in approximately two hours.”

Her concern for Carrie breaking her from her trance, Marlena stepped forward to stand beside John. Focusing on Dimera, she asked coldly, “What have you done with my daughter?”

“Marlena it is such a pleasure to see you here. I hope you’re feeling better?”

“My daughter, Stefano. Where is she?”

“Carrie is fine. We just thought it best if the entire family were present for this little vacation. Of course, the children being here that was John’s idea.”

Her startled eyes darted toward John’s face, but he ignored her unasked question. With a light touch on her elbow, he shifted her toward a curving stairway set to the right of the doorway.

“I’m going to see Marlena and the children to their suite. We can compare notes when I get back,” John said, walking stiffly away.

“There are three bedrooms and a bath off of the sitting room. I thought Sami and Carrie could bunk together. There are two beds in one of the rooms.”

“The prison is well appointed,” Marlena replied, looking over the large room. A sofa and two overstuffed chairs took up half the room, a card table and small bar occupying the other half.





“I’m glad you like it,” he muttered, irritation creeping into his voice. “I’ll have Jensen bring up some dinner for you. As soon as Carrie arrives, she’ll be brought here. Why don’t you all try and get some rest, we can discuss the situation in the morning.” Backing toward the open door, he sought quick escape from the glare of their accusing eyes.

“John, why are we here? What do you want from me?” Marlena asked, cutting off all hope of a painless retreat.

He repressed a hysterical laugh, buried his urge to admit that he had no idea what he wanted from her anymore that his life was so screwed up at this point, he no longer understand who he was, much less why he did the things he did. He opted for the easy answer. “Marlena, I have already told you this is for your own protection. The children’s protection. And now is not the time or place to get into it,” he said with a nod to where Sami and Eric stood uncertainly behind their mother.





“Why not, John? After all, it’s your fault the children are here. It’s your fault that Roman their father isn’t!” she snapped, wanting him to deny it. Wanting him to make her believe.

“I didn’t kill Roman!” he shot back, taking an involuntary step toward her. He resisted the urge to shake her, shake her until she admitted that everything he did, he did for her. “I have told you already, I would never have endangered you and I did not kill Roman. Are you just going to believe Jameson when he tells you that I did it? That the Brotherhood was not involved! I will not let you endanger yourself or our children with your stupidity!”

She should have been afraid. After everything she had seen, after everything she had learned, she should have been very afraid. Instead, she was mad furious at the thought that he had delivered her, and her children, to Dimera. “You took my daughter, John,” she hissed, slapping him across the face.

The sound of her hand striking him echoed in the small room. It froze them both in place, making clear how very far they had fallen. Their eyes locked and for a moment they shared the agony of everything that they had lost. John broke first, dropping his head, no longer able to face her.

Marlena gathered the shreds of her dignity, wishing that she had never been brought to this, wishing her children had never had to witness it. “I cannot believe you would give me to him. I can’t believe you would do this to me to my children.”

“I know you can’t,” he replied. Walking from the room, he left them to the silence. 

-----

The birds sang in celebration of the dawn as the sun slowly climbed above the distant mountain peaks. John looked out over the fields, noting that the trees were starting to change color with the coming of fall. He gave a sigh that was almost content as he sipped at his coffee. Striking a match, he watched the flame dance for a moment before touching it to the paper of the first cigarette of the day. Losing himself in the act of creation, he drew the smoke deeply into his lungs and then set it free. The silver threads of smoke floated skyward, twisted about by a gentle wind.

He had always been content in this place. In the days of his youth, before he knew what happiness was, he had thought he was happy when he was here. The memories reinforcing old patterns, he almost rose to his feet as Dimera joined him on the big porch. Instead, he gave the man a reserved nod.

Stefano was struck by a feeling of nostalgia as he walked out into the cool morning air. Though he himself preferred the city, John had always loved this place. They had come here often and Dimera had learned to appreciate the gentle beauty of the mountains, the soothing nature of the woods. It all came back to him as he watched John, sitting with his feet kicked up on the wooden railing of the porch.

“You did a good job yesterday, getting Marlena and the children out of Salem. The Salem headlines are screaming recriminations at the police department. I do believe you have once again managed to shock people with your audacity,” he said.

“It wasn’t that difficult, and you know it. But, thanks anyway,” John replied, managing a small grin, trying hard not to shatter the last vestiges of the bond that existed between them. It was the only bond to another human being that he could allow to exist.

As Stefano eased a still sore body into the chair to await his breakfast, he nodded to John. “I assume Carrie made it in safely last night?”

“Yea, the plane was delayed by weather. I waited up and made sure Jensen got her squared away. She’s fine, if a little frightened. Of course, Jensen’s still not talking to me. I keep worrying he’s going to spit in my food or something.”

Stefano gave a genuine chuckle at that. “You should learn to show more respect to the help, John. The man really is too good to be abused.”

As the object of their discussion walked onto the porch, studiously ignoring John, Dimera changed the subject. “We should meet with Marlena once they have eaten. Jensen will be serving them in their rooms,” he said, nodding to the man setting his place. “After that, I want you to get her and bring her to the study. The sooner this matter is resolved, the better.”

John was hesitant to go near Marlena or her children, and it showed in his voice. “She thinks we are responsible for the bombing. She thinks I am responsible. She isn’t going to want to help us.”

Looking at John’s broad back, Dimera said, “If you would prefer, I could conduct the interview alone.”

“Don’t make me wish I had killed you,” John replied, turning to give Stefano a hard look. His voice was mild, but his eyes shot a warning.

Stefano gave a slight shrug and picked up his fork. “It was just a suggestion. And I could say the same to you.”

Turning back to study the mountains in the distance, John was silent for a moment. “Why haven’t you?”

Dimera looked up, startled by the question. “Why haven’t I what?”

“You have never allowed anyone to challenge you, Stefano. I should know I’ve killed many who have tried. Why am I still here?”

Dimera gave voice to a small sigh, addressing an issue he had been avoiding. “I hadn’t thought about it. I suppose I need you. You are the very best I have seen.” Focusing on his food, he continued in a voice so soft John almost failed to hear, “Besides, I do believe I would miss you.”

Almost choking on his coffee, John gave Stefano his full attention. A genuine smile split his face as he said sarcastically, “Oh yea, we have such good times together!”

Looking back at him, Dimera allowed an answering smile. “You are never boring, John. I appreciate that quality. It keeps me young.”

Uncomfortable with the mixed emotions their discussion was generating, John rose to his feet and slapped a hand to the hard muscles of his stomach. “Well, I’ve always said you would live forever. Now I now why. However, I do believe it is time for me to take a walk around the compound. Work off those pancakes I had for breakfast. Meet you in the study about 10:30?”

At Dimera’s brief nod, he turned and left the porch, intent on refamiliarizing himself with the area.

Stefano watched the man stride confidently away, looking like he owned the very earth on which he walked. John Black was one of a very few who could pose a threat to him and he had no one to blame for that but himself…

The recoil from the 20 gauge, even loaded with birdshot, knocks the boy back a step. “Shit!! I can’t do anything right!”

This time, Dimera allows himself a chuckle. “Better. Much better,” he says, his grin broadening as the boy’s face lights up at the compliment. Caughtup in the boy’s exuberance, Stefano tousles the dark head. “You’re a natural but don’t get cocky! Let’s see how you do with two birds...”

John walked down the hall, Marlena following stiffly a step behind him. She had refused to come at all until he had threatened to hold the meeting in the suite. Knowing she would want Dimera kept as far from her children as possible, he had hoped that the offer would make her comply. He had been right.

Marlena studied his broad back, trying to make sense of the emotions that tore at her. She hadn’t been able to form a clear thought since she had read his file, seen the evidence of his brutality, dating back to when he had been more a boy than a man. The reality of the words, the depth of her loss, warred with the feelings in her heart. John would never have hurt her child. Never… She silently pleaded for an explanation, for some hint that would allow her mind to believe what her heart told her. Instead, he stalked down the hallway, taking her to the one man on this earth that she hated most.





The muscles of his back clenched spasmodically, her eyes cutting through him as no knife could. He could feel her anger, sharp and brittle and as cold as ice. With dark humor, he recognized that he was grateful she was unarmed. At the moment, he had little doubt that she would put a bullet in his spine if he gave her half a chance. Resolving to stay as far from her as possible, he halted at the door to Dimera’s study. Holding the door for her, he politely motioned her inside. She walked by him as if he didn’t exist and he tried to control the ache that her proximity generated.

“Marlena. So nice of you to join us,” Stefano’s deep voice rang out from the far side of the room. “I’ve been worried about you. The miscarriage...”

“My child had nothing to do with you, Stefano. I won’t discuss her,” she grated, the ache inside her suddenly impossible to ignore.

“As you will,” he replied, rising from his desk to approach her. He gestured to the sofa and chairs, giving a slight bow. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

“Unlikely,” Marlena replied, perching on the edge of one of the large chairs. Dimera sank down opposite her on the sofa, while John moved to the far side of the room. Resting against the desk, he stared sightlessly at his boots and tried to become invisible.

Marlena found herself almost relieved to be facing Dimera. Her feelings for him were clear she hated the man. For everything he had done to her, to her family, even for what he had done to John, she hated him. There was a certain comfort in the consistency of that hate.

Her anger was stronger than her fear and she settled more comfortably in the big chair. “I am only here because I am forced to be, Stefano. Don’t think I am willing to help you in any way.”

“Marlena, you and your children will stay here until this matter is finished. If you wish the stay to be a lengthy one, then by all means, refuse to cooperate. As you well know, I am enchanted by your presence, willing or not.”

She grimaced in distaste, her eyes darting to John’s dark figure lurking in the background.

Catching the glance, Stefano called, “John, I do not believe Marlena accepts my word on this. Would you care to explain the situation to her?”

John’s body stiffened at the request, but he raised his head and sought out her eyes. When he spoke, his words were emotionless. “You will stay here, Marlena. You will stay until it is deemed safe for you to leave. We didn’t plant that bomb. And if we didn’t, the Brotherhood did. You aren’t leaving here until you tell us everything you know. About the organization. About Roman. About what got him killed. You aren’t leaving until I’m certain it’s safe.”

Marlena believed him. If only because the words hurt, she believed him. The fear rose as the reality of captivity set in, but greater than the fear was the hope. Because if she believed that John would allow Dimera to keep her here, maybe she could believe that he didn’t set the bomb. Maybe she could believe…





“If I tell you what you want to know, you will let us go?” she asked, shifting attention back to Dimera.

“Once we put the Brotherhood out of operation, you will be free,” he said with a nod, surprised by her willingness to concede so quickly.

She hesitated, wondering whether Dimera would keep his word. Dimera would lie, but John… “On two conditions. First, any information I give you must be turned over to the authorities. You will allow the law to handle this. You will not harm any of those men, and you will not let John harm them. My second condition you let us go. You let us go and you give me your word you will stay out of my life and the lives of my children.”

Stefano leaned back, his eyes never leaving her face. He granted her a halfbow. “If that is what you truly wish, Marlena I give you my word.”

Marlena tried to will herself to believe him, wanting it to be the truth while knowing it probably wasn’t. She was still undecided when John’s voice cut in, low and hard.

“No the stipulations are not acceptable. Those men will be mine to do with as I see fit. Stefano cannot promise they will not be harmed.”

Startled, she looked up at him, no longer able to recognized the man she had once known. Standing against the desk, backlit by the sun, John was a dark void she could not see into. She clasped her hands before her as a shiver ran down her spine, and for a moment she felt pity for the men he sought. They would receive no reprieve from this creature that stood apart from her, at one with the shadows that cloaked him.

Her voice an almost whisper, she looked into the dark where his face should be and asked, “Will you let us go? Will you promise me that, John?”





He hated himself for doing this to her, for causing her this pain. Without thinking about what he was doing, he moved to her side. Bending gracefully, he knelt before her, their faces level. Meeting her stare, he said firmly, “I give you my word of honor. If you will identify them, I will remove the threat. When that is done, you will go home. No one will ever bother you again. Not me. Not Dimera. Not anyone.”

Under the bright light of the chandelier, his eyes blazed an electric blue that threatened to stop her heart. She lost herself in their clear depths, seeing a glimmer of the man he had been. That man had never been able to lie to her he didn’t lie to her now. John had not set the bomb. He had not betrayed her. A tear escaped, trailing down her cheek. The strength of the emotion that ran through her made her catch her breath, her hand grasping at the heavy padded leather of the arm of the chair, her fingers brushing against his own.

He had been trapped by the tear that rolled down her cheek, frozen by the knowledge that she was crying because of him. He cursed himself for bringing her nothing but pain, jerking violently away as her hand touched his. He lurched to his feet and stood before her, his head bowed. He rubbed at his eyes, shook his head. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t trust me...” He was halfway across the room before her voice stopped him in his tracks.

“I do trust you, John. I do.”

She crossed her arms in front of her, her throat suddenly tight. “I believe you. I believe everything you say. But, John I don’t want you to kill those men. I won’t help you do that. I don’t want that for you.”

“They killed your child, Marlena. They almost killed you,” he replied, trying to keep the anger from his voice, uncertain if he had succeeded.





“It’s not about me,” she said softly.

He shook his head, her ability to surprise him neverending. “I will promise you this, Marlena. If I can protect you and still leave them alive I will.”

Her eyes held his for a long moment and then she granted him a grudging nod. “Then I will tell you what you want to know.”

“Thank you,” he said, stopping outside the door to the suite. Jamming his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet and looked everywhere but at her.

“For what?” Marlena asked, wishing he would meet her eyes. 

“You know for believing me. About Roman… I had no right to expect that. Not after what I’ve done.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, wanting only to escape into the privacy of her room, leave behind the hurt it caused her to be close to him. There was nothing she could say to fix him, nothing she could do to make him whole.

“I’ll talk to Stefano, get you those files you need,” John muttered, turning to leave.

“I didn’t want to believe it.” Despite herself, she paused before opening the door. “I didn’t want to, but… After the baby, Jameson came. Was it true, John? All of the things he told me? The killings? The murders? The ISA file on you was it true?”

“Yea, it was true. Whatever you saw, it was probably true. I doubt the ISA even knows about half the stuff I was responsible for.” He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the ground between his feet. “Like I said, I’d understand it if you don’t trust me.”

Marlena grimaced, planting her forehead against the smooth face of the wood. “I don’t know you anymore, John. I don’t understand you.”

“Yea, well that makes two of us,” he replied with a brittle laugh.

Tilting her head, she found him looking at her. “You never let me down, John. That much didn’t change. I should have trusted you.”

“About the Brotherhood, you mean?”

“Yea, about the Brotherhood,” she replied, smiling despite herself. “This whole thing with kidnaping me that’s another story.”

“I don’t want you hurt,” he said, his face flushing. “And don’t worry about Dimera, I swear, he won’t come near you. I would never let him… Nothing will happen. Not like last time, with the baby.”

In the awkward silence, she looked down, her hands running lightly across her flat stomach. The baby…





“Are you okay?”

“Not really,” she muttered, flinching as she felt his hand against her cheek. He pulled guiltily away from her, the remnants of her tears on the tips of his fingers.

“Sorry,” he said awkwardly. “I just, I know how you love your children. She would have been beautiful, Marlena just like her mother.”

“It wasn’t fair, John. None of this was her fault it wasn’t fair to lose her,” she said, clenching her eyes shut and shaking her head.

She heard his hiss of frustration, felt him brush his hands against her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should have been there. I should have known better.”

Marlena rolled her eyes and broke away from his touch. “Not everything bad in the world is your fault, John. Some bad things just are.”

“It should never have happened, Marlena. Not the pregnancy and not the miscarriage,” he replied, his eyes going hard. “I won’t let you be hurt again.”

“I know you won’t,” she said, giving his arm a quick squeeze. “I told you I trust you.”

“Mom, are you all right?” Carrie asked, coming over to where she stood at the door of the large room.

“You were gone for hours. We ate lunch without you,” Eric chimed in, moving to sit on the sofa.

Marlena joined her son on the couch, leaning back against the thick cushions and allowing her defenses to drop for the first time that day. “I was meeting with Stefano and John. It took longer than expected.”

Seeing the alarm in their faces, she waved a hand and flashed them a small smile. “Don’t worry. I think everything is going to be okay. I think… I think that they had nothing to do with the bombing. Nothing to do with your father’s death.”

Carrie and Eric looked puzzled, Eric even a little angry. Sami, however, was more than willing to believe. “I told you,” she said, delight in her voice. “I told you he didn’t do it!”

“Mom, what makes you think they’re innocent? We were so sure. They even heard John say he did it,” Carrie said, nodding to Sami and Eric.

“Mom, they kidnaped us! What more proof do we need?” Eric cut in, his face flushed.

“Everyone! Please! I will answer your questions, but you need to slow down. Sami, Carrie. Come sit down. Let me explain what happened,” Marlena said, her voice rising to pierce the din.

“Sorry Mom,” Carrie replied sheepishly. “Go on. Tell us what happened.”

“Stefano wanted to talk to me about why we are here. He says he is protecting us from the Brotherhood. It’s a… a vigilante group. Stefano says that they are responsible for the bombing. According to Dimera, I might be their next target.”

“Mom, that doesn’t make any sense,” Eric spat out. “Why would they be after dad? Much less you?”

Not wanting to go into Roman’s involvement with the group, Marlena chose her words with care. “Your father had evidence on the organization. Evidence he was going to turn over to the authorities. The Brotherhood knew that he had it. And now, Stefano and John think that they know I have seen the evidence. That I represent a threat. That is why they say they brought us here.”

“That still doesn’t explain what we heard John say, Mom. We didn’t make that up,” Eric replied.

She nodded tiredly, trying not to grow impatient with Eric’s cynicism. Her son had a right to doubt. “I asked John… What exactly did you to hear him say?”

“He was talking to Stefano. He said that it was all his fault. That he messed up, that he was sorry,” Sami replied, willing her mother to explain away the ugly words.

“John was sorry because… When he found out about the baby, found out what Stefano had done to make me pregnant, John broke away from Dimera. He quit working for him. And then when the explosion happened… Well, he felt it was his fault. That if he had been doing his job, if they hadn’t both been distracted, he could have somehow stopped it.” She nodded to Sami and Eric. “That’s what you heard. He was sorry that he had left. Felt that if he hadn’t, I might not have been hurt, your father might not have been...”

There was quiet for a moment, Sami and Eric both remembering the moment in the hospital, deciding if it fit with John’s story. Slowly, the smile of satisfaction returned to Sami’s face and she nodded her head. “Yea! That does make sense, Mom. Right, Eric?” she said, turning to look at her brother.





His face still troubled, the young man merely shrugged. “Could be. No way to know for sure.”

Noting the undercurrent of bitterness in his voice, Marlena studied her only son. He sat almost defiantly, arms crossed before his chest. He was too young to look so jaded, she thought. Cringing again at what had been done to her family, she wearily rose to her feet. “True enough, Eric. You will have to makeup your own mind. Now, I think I need to go soak in a hot bath.”

“Are they going to let us go, Mom? Do you know what’s happening?” Perched on the seat, her legs crossed beneath her, Carrie looked more curious than afraid.

“They said we would be free to go as soon as the Brotherhood is brought in. John gave me his word.”

“And you believe him?” Eric’s voice was laced with sarcasm.

“Yes, Eric I do.”

John walked back into the study, stretching his arms high above his head and feeling the knots in his shoulders protest. He flopped onto the couch and picked at the remains of the fruit laying on a platter on the coffee table.

“You were gone for quite some time,” Dimera noted from his desk, eyes intent on the papers in his hand.

John gave a shrug. “She had something she wanted to ask me about.”

With a sigh, Dimera rose from his chair, moving to the small bar tucked into the corner by yet another of the many fireplaces that dotted the lodge. He filled a glass with Irish whiskey, trying to find a way to broach a subject they had both been avoiding. “You wish I had never brought you back, don’t you? Never made you remember?”





Again, John shrugged, refusing to meet Stefano’s eyes. “I was living a lie. I know that.”

“That is not what I asked.”

Not wanting to argue, John grunted a laugh. “Okay you’re right. I wish I had never remembered. I wish I had lived that lie until the day I died, lived it until they buried me at her side. Is that what you wanted to hear, Stefano? That I would have chosen to stay with her? Never come back to this life? Fine! I said it. You happy now?” He shot to his feet, pacing across the room in an effort to work off the nervous energy that surged through him.

Stefano sipped his drink, watching as the man stalked across the room, filling the space with his anger and his pain. Not wanting to interrupt the outburst, he kept his thoughts to himself.

John rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension, force back the feelings of loss. “You don’t know. You can’t know...” he said softly. “It was so perfect, being with her. With the children. Thinking they were mine. I took it all for granted and didn’t even realize it until they were gone.” He gave a sharp shake of his head, bringing himself back to the present. As if remembering Dimera was still in the room, he gave him a rueful look.

“She is the most incredible woman I have ever known. To have her love you… it’s a gift. I would have done anything not to have lost that.”

Dimera was many things. Cold. Ruthless. Controlled. He had a genius for recognizing human emotions, a genius for exploiting them. The one thing he was not, was a fool.

“She still thinks of you as her husband,” Dimera said. “The way she looks at you when I’m talking to her. She expects you to be there for her. She expects you to protect her.”

“I will protect her. I thought you understood that.”

“You can’t have her, John. I thought you understood that.”

“Neither can you,” John replied flatly.

Their eyes locked, neither man willing to back down. Finally, Dimera gave a short nod that neither of them mistook for agreement. Not for the first time, he wondered if they would both be standing when this whole thing ended. “We should concentrate on the Brotherhood for now.”

“That would probably be best,” John said, returning to his seat on the couch. Picking up a knife, he began to absently peel an apple, more concerned with his skill at the carving than with the food itself. The long thin string of red slid away in a single thread beneath his sharp blade, the imagery inspiring him. “The first step is easy. We take Jameson out. He’s the head of the organization. We cut off the head and the body will die.”

Dimera repressed a grin at John’s choice of words and again hoped it would not come down to a battle between the two of them. “That might be a little hasty, John. It is not even certain that Jameson is the one in charge.”

John flashed Stefano a wry look. “He told Marlena that the Brotherhood could not be responsible for the bombing, that there was no time for them to react to Roman’s decision. We both know that’s a crock, Stefano. They could easily have done it. They had the motivation, we didn’t. Yet he directs the blame at us. He dismisses the Brotherhood. Hell! He was Roman’s contact. He’s the one that knew for certain that Brady was going to give them up. He set this whole thing in motion and then stepped in to play the hero. I know he’s responsible when did you become so naive?”

“Naive is not a term generally used in connection with me, John. I prefer the word ‘cautious’. But I do agree. Jameson is involved, and most likely he is the head of the organization. His position in the ISA makes this the most likely scenario. But it is still not certain and Marlena has only had time to identify three of the other men involved. We need to take the time to gather information, identify all of the members of the organization. Then we will act, not before.”

John flung the knife down, burying the tip deep in the hard wood of the table. Waiting did not suit him but Dimera made too much sense to ignore. He gave a resigned nod, acknowledging the wisdom of Dimera’s counsel. “So we wait. But please tell me you weren’t serious when you suggested we would turn this information over to the authorities?”

Dimera’s face hardened, his buried anger flashing through for an instance. “They killed my child, John. I want them in the dirt. Each and every one of them. When the time is right, they all die. On this we are agreed, are we not?”

“Oh yes, Stefano. Their deaths are a given. It is the one thing I am sure of.”

-----

John knocked hesitantly on the door, trailed by three of the guards, their arms laden with equipment. The door opened and he found Carrie, blocking the doorway and looking uncertainly up at him.

“Um… I have some computer equipment that Marlena needs...” Not knowing what to say to the young woman who had been his daughter, he simply stood fidgeting, awaiting her reaction to him.

“John!” A smile flitted briefly across her face before she noted the guards behind him. “Uh, sure. Come in. Mom’s taking a nap, she was really tired after the meeting...”

Carrie’s voice was cut of by a loud cry from Sami. “Dad!” Sprinting toward him, Sami threw herself into his arms. Burying her face in his chest, she muttered, “I knew you didn’t do it. Mom said you didn’t set the bomb. She said you didn’t do it.”

Sami his baby. She’d always been able to break him to her will. Aware of Carrie watching him with inscrutable eyes, of Eric’s glare from his seat at the card table, John cautiously wrapped his arms around his youngest daughter. Ignoring the guards shifting restlessly behind his back, he whispered words meant only for her. “I would never harm any of you. Any of the family. You should know that.”

Sami held tight for another moment, then stepped back to brush away happy tears. “I did know. I never thought you did it,” she said, shooting a sharp look at her brother.

John flashed her a smile and gestured to the guards behind him. “Where can we set this stuff up?”

“Use the card table, John. What’s all of that for, anyway?” Carrie asked, watching curiously as Bryce and the others carried in various computer parts.

“We have some computerized files your mother is taking a look at. I thought she might be more comfortable working in here,” he said. The less Marlena was around Dimera, the happier John would be.

The men began setting up the equipment and Eric reluctantly moved from his spot to go slouch in one of the lounge chairs. Sami grabbed John’s hands and pulled him toward the couch. Keeping one watchful eye on Carrie as she observed the guards at their work, he allowed Sami to tug him down onto the couch.





In a seemingly casual gestured, Sami picked up the deck of cards Eric had dropped on the coffee table. Shuffling them through her hands, she began to deal out four hands. “Why don’t you stay for dinner, Dad?”

Absently, uncomfortable with Carrie’s proximity to his men, he shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Sami,” he replied. Picking up the cards set before him, he was relieved to see Carrie turn and come to join them.

As Carrie she moved to the sitting area, John caught Bryce’s appreciative glance at her retreating figure. Filing it away for later, he relaxed as Carrie plopped down in the other lounge chair and picked up her cards.

Still refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, Eric casually scooped up the cards in front of him and slapped down the two of clubs. Without further discussion, they immersed themselves in the familiar competition.

“She’s beautiful just like her mother.”

He’s looking down at her, eyes intense. She offers him a smile, and his face softens. “Yes, John I do know that. I trust you. I will always trust you.”

Marlena awoke with a start, jolted from a dream by the distant sound of laughter. She blinked bleary eyes and looked around in confusion, trying to figure out where she was. Dimera. Dimera and John. She sighed, her head sinking back to rest against the fluffy pillows as she ran a hand across the smooth curve of her stomach. The baby was gone. John was gone. Her dreams could do nothing to change that harsh reality.

Hearing the sound of her children’s laughter in the next room, she managed a weak grin, grateful that they were still able to find some happiness, even in this place. Looking around, she admitted that under any other circumstances, she would love it here. The rustic logs seemed to exude a warmth of their own and the big window allowed in the light of the setting sun, the view of the woods and mountains better than any artwork. With a muttered groan, she rolled from beneath the cool crisp sheets and went to tug on a pair of jeans. Not bothering with shoes or to tuck in the oversized white linen shirt she had found hanging in her closet, she opened the door. At the sound of his voice, she halted in the doorway. She watched unnoticed as the small group played cards, their easy camaraderie bringing a lump to her throat.

“I can’t believe you shot the moon again, Carrie!” John said in exasperation, sitting back on the couch as she gathered the cards strewn around the table.

“What can I say? You taught me well,” Carrie replied with a laugh.

My God, she hadn’t realized how much she missed him, Marlena thought, watching as he played with their children. For so long she had been consumed by the big issues. The loss of her husband, the husband she had thought John to be. Roman’s return and her attempts to bring him back into her life. The baby she had carried and the loss of that child. Above it all, had been the fear. The fear that she had never really known him, never known the man who had been her husband, her partner, for so many years.

Watching as he sat with the kids, she had to admit that he would always be a part of her, would always hold a piece of her heart. She had forgotten that it was the little things that had made her life so complete, the little things that bound them together. The Friday ‘movie nights’, when they would rent cheesy movies and sit around eating pizza and popcorn. The inevitable popcorn fights that always seemed to endup boys against girls. Watching out the window, as father and son had played catch, every Saturday morning without fail. Back then, she had worried about the day Eric would end up ditching his dad for a hot date, or a morning at the mall with his friends. Now, she could only wish their play had ended so simply. She sighed to herself, remembering the way he had brought her coffee in bed, every morning. Even now, she woke expecting to find a steaming cup beside her. His face, hovering above her. All of the memories made the ache inside her grow as she watched them trying to recapture something that had been destroyed. The memories made it all the harder for her to end the sad charade they were carrying out but it did have to end.

Sitting quietly, as he had the entire time, Eric caught sight of his mother standing in the doorway. His eyes narrowed, a guilty look flashing across his face. “Mom?!”

As the word registered with John, he jumped awkwardly to his feet and turned in her direction. Eric wasn’t the only one who looked guilty. “Oh hi. I was just… I brought in a computer so you could check those files from here. Uh, I guess I should go,” he said, backing from the table with a brief nod in the direction of the children.

“John… I’d like to speak to you for a moment,” Marlena said quietly. 

Swallowing convulsively, he stood mute, as if awaiting her direction.

She walked over to where he stood rooted to the floor, shooting a look at the children. “Why don’t we step outside for a minute?” she asked, trying to sound casual, trying not to betray her pain over what she would ask of him.

He followed her into the hall, watching her uncertainly. The silence stretched out, the words refusing to come to her.

“What is it, Marlena? If there is anything...”





She felt the tears puddle in the corner of her eyes, hating the fact that all she seemed to do anymore was cry. His hand crept to her face, and she knew that if he touched her she wouldn’t be able to do what she had to.

“Doc, I...”

“Don’t call me that!” she snapped, slapping his hand away before it could make contact.

Stunned, he stepped away from her, a bitter laugh ringing out. “Seems like old times.”

She shook her head, grimacing. “Hard to believe we’d ever look back on West Virginia and consider those the ‘good times’, isn’t it?”

“At least it wasn’t me you hated back then,” he replied with a shrug.





“I don’t hate you now. I’m sorry I just, every time I’m around you I end up confused,” she said, her tone more gentle.

“You shouldn’t be sorry, the fault is mine. I shouldn’t have called you that. I had no right...”

“No! You should have every right!” she said, the anger flaring again. She was angry at him, at herself, at the world in general. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, biting her lip in an effort not to scream. With a deep breath, she tried to explain it in a way he would understand. “You were here for us for 14 years. That gives you the right. It just… it can’t be.”

He stood silently, unwilling to say anything. She wished he’d argue with her. She wished he’d apologize, for what, it didn’t really matter. Hell, she wished he’d tell her it had all been a bad dream and that he was still her husband and he had to hurry or he’d be late for work. But he didn’t say anything, just looked at her with those blue eyes, willing to do anything she asked. Damn him for putting this all on her!

Marlena gave a long frustrated sigh, reluctant to risk more words that would hurt. “John, I know this isn’t your fault, that you didn’t plan to be in our lives again. I know you tried to leave and I understand why you did. But this has to stop. The children… I know you don’t mean to, to unsettle the children, but you being here confuses them. Sami still thinks you’re going to come home, Eric is so mad he won’t even talk to me, Carrie pretends everything is fine when I know it isn’t… John, I don’t want them to be confused. Not any more than they already are. I want you to stay away from them.”





His jaw clenched and she saw the flash of pain in his eyes before he dropped his head. She wanted to take him in her arms, to ease the hurt away. Knowing it would only make things worse, she pressed her lips together and kept silent.

“I didn’t mean… it just kind of happened, Marlena,” he stammered. “I didn’t intend to, to make false promises to them. It won’t happen again, Marlena. I’m sorry.”

His words had a finality that scared her, that made her want to take it all back. Instead, she simply watched as he walked away from her and back to Dimera.

-----

Marlena stared at the screen, at the last face in the files the indicator that she was done with her end of the bargain she had struck with Dimera. For two full days, she and the children had stayed in the suite. She had clicked through file after file, marking the pictures that matched the images in her mind. Two days of staring at the screen as her children had read, played cards, watched the TV that now sat in a corner of the room. As their nerves had frayed, and friendly banter had turned to sniping, she had sat, going through file after file. Their little world had been disturbed only by Jensen, the meals he brought marking the time they spent locked in this gilded cage. Now it was over with and she felt not joy, but emptiness.

When she had sent him away, she had meant it. Not wanted it, but meant it none the less. He could not be a part of their lives and it was cruel to pretend otherwise. But every minute that had passed, she had waited for him. Expected him. Was disappointed when the knock on the door didn’t come. Now she was done and they would leave. Soon they would leave. She could go home to a house that would feel empty because he wasn’t there. Closing her eyes, she sent up a prayer a prayer that one day she would wake up, and her world would no longer feel empty.

“You want me to kill him while he sits in his office?! It’s a federal building!” Startled from his pacing, John halted before Dimera’s desk. “Why? Why the office? I could walk into his home on a whim and splatter his brains across a wall. Why a federal building?” John asked, realizing as he did so that he didn’t care the idea itself captivated.

Stefano steepled his hands on the desk and smiled at the eagerness he saw on John’s face. “We need to send a message. Can you think of a better way?”

With a sharp laugh, John shook his head. “No. Killing an assistant director of the ISA while he sits in his office is certain to catch attention. I’m just not sure why we want that attention.”

“If you would leave the gym once in a while, you might have a better feel for the situation.”

John merely shrugged, refusing to be baited. “I get antsy. You know that.”





Stefano snorted at the understatement. John had spent the past two days working himself to the point of exhaustion. He had pounded on the guards until they had refused to spar with him. Deprived of human bodies, he had taken his anger out on the heavy bag, spending hours slamming his callused fists into the canvas. When he had grown bored with that, he had spent time on the range, firing shot after shot into the human shaped targets. He was unpredictable to the point that only Dimera would willingly approach him. Stefano had designed this mission to give John a focus for his rage. The manner of Jameson’s death was not really so important, but this way had style and it would give John the challenge he needed.

“‘Antsy.’ So that is what you call it. I would have said insufferable. However, if you must have it explained to you… Marlena has gone through the files. Identified all of the faces she recognized. But there is no way we have them all. Our files are not complete and it is doubtful that Roman knew of all of the members of the Brotherhood Jameson is proof enough of that. We already have men observing the members we know of. We have their phones tapped, their mail monitored. What we need now is an emergency, something that will shock the organization into action. If our surveillance teams do their jobs, we will be able to trace the lines of communication. Confirm that the men we have identified are members. Find out who we have missed. Jameson’s death can give us that emergency.”

John nodded, recognizing the wisdom of the plan recognizing he didn’t really give a shit as long as he got to have Jameson. And to take him right under the nose of the feds… “So, when do we start?”

The four man team sat around the conference table that had been setup in the media room. They stared attentively at Dimera while John slouched against the back wall. He tried to contain the desire to smash something, at least for a little while longer. With a start, John realized it had been years since he had gotten to kill someone he truly hated. And he did hate Jameson. He remembered listening to the tape, Jameson’s voice easy to identify. He had gloated over the death of the traitor in their group’s midst. That death had cost Marlena her husband, her child. The thought of it sent the beginnings of the icy fire racing through his synapses. Made it hard to concentrate as Stefano laid out his entry. Laid out his escape. The only escape that concerned John now would be found in Jameson’s death.

He needed this kill. Needed to vent the black thoughts that twisted in his brain, that tied his stomach into knots. He was going insane, stalking through this house, this hell of his own design. To know she was there and not to be with her his mere presence an abomination… He would use what he was to serve her this one last time and then he would set her free from his taint. Forcing his mind back to the logistics of death, he buried the fire deep inside.

John felt sharp. He had forgotten this was why he did it. This was why he put up with all of the bullshit that constituted his life. It was for this. This feeling. Sharp. Pure. With a purpose. One purpose. To kill. God, he missed this.

Complete, he moved to the office where his prey awaited. Sheep to the slaughter he lived to see the look in their eyes as they died.

Outside the door, he paused. Savoring the anticipation. The cold fire that consumed him, that tempered him. This was so right. Drawing in a deep breath of the artificial air, he lunged forward, slamming the door wide. He filled the room bone, blood and sinew existing for only one focused purpose.

Jameson’s eyes stared up at him, denying the reality of his immanent death.

With a smile on his face that he didn’t know existed, John stalked across the industrial carpet, blade held easily in his hand. Feeling as if he were moving in slow motion, he crossed the floor in the time it took Jameson to blink. “I believe you’ve been looking for me? Well, here I am. Enjoy.”

Shoving the smaller man’s head back, John struck. The blade bit through meat and cartilage, the sound a grisly indicator of the force behind the blow. A crimson fountain exploded from the severed artery and Jameson’s hands came up in a hopeless attempt to stem the flow. His life slipping through his fingers, he looked up into the smiling face of death.

“Stefano Dimera sends his regards.” The familiar words hissed from his lips and time snapped back into focus. Moving quickly now, John finished sending the message that Stefano had dictated. Completing his grisly task, he striped off the suit he had been wearing, revealing the janitor’s jumpsuit that had been hidden beneath. John checked his watch only minutes left before he had to be at the security checkpoint. Snatching the trashbag from the bin beside Jameson’s desk, he ran for the door, pausing for a last look over the scene of the crime. This was one message that would be hard to miss. Closing the door on the sight of Jameson’s severed head, he moved to meet the exit team.

As he had expected, none of the busy people in suits paid any attention to the janitor carrying his load of trash through the halls. At the security desk for the front door, however, both guards looked curiously up it was not standard practice to carry the trash through the front hall. Ducking his head low under the brim of his cap, John kept walking and prayed that his team would be on time.

Right on cue, the front doors slammed open. Gas grenades exploding everywhere, the four man team swept inside. Dressed in black fatigues and masks, kevlar protecting them from the small arms carried by security, they opened fire.

Dropping the bag to the floor, John ran for the exit. Visibility was nonexistent, the edge of the security desk jabbing hard against his hip. He vaulted the desk, muscles tensed in expectation of a bullet as he made his way through the dense smoke. Gunfire cracked with regularity, bringing home the danger, and he wished he could have worn a vest. While his men had orders to fire into the air, their presence meant largely as a diversion, he doubted that the security forces now pouring toward the entry would be so accommodating.

Scrambling through the shrouded chaos of the room, he crashed into an unseen body before he was halfway to the door. Sensing it was one of his own, he yelled through the haze. “Fall back! We’re out of here!”

The team ducked out the double doors, the gunfire behind them becoming more regular. Smoke billowed from the building as they raced for the waiting van. Coughing to clear his lungs, John collapsed onto the hard metal floor, tears streaming from stinging eyes. The last man was pulled aboard and the van roared out into the deepening twilight. Thirty minutes after cutting Jameson’s throat, John and his team were on a chopper back to the Blue Ridge.

-----