‘Oh, this is all just so very exciting,’ thought Vivian, as she rushed around her bedroom getting ready for breakfast. They had prisoners. Actual prisoners.

She had glimpsed them being brought in late last night when she should have been fast asleep. As she had lounged in the first floor study, flipping through the dusty books for something to read, she had heard the sound of voices in the hall. Thinking that it never hurt to have every piece of information one could in this family, she had stood at the partially opened door and listened without revealing herself. Through the crack, she had seen a beautiful blond woman and three teenagers that had to be her children. These guests had appeared even more reluctant than she to be visiting.

Two girls and a young man. A very handsome young man, Vivian had noted with a discerning eye. But the children had been eclipsed by the woman. Standing before her children, she had stared up at Mikovitch Alamain, Prince of Russia, last of the line of the Czars. She had stared up at him and her golden eyes had blazed her defiance. With scorn in her voice, she had demanded to know where they were and ordered him to explain himself. Instead, with uncharacteristic calm, Mikos had turned and told the servants to escort the captives to their rooms.

The ‘guests’ had departed and still Vivian had watched, peering out at the commanding form of her nephew. When he had finally torn his gaze away from the long hall down which the woman had vanished, the man had actually appeared shaken. Intrigued, Vivian had eased the door shut and gone to pour herself a glass of port. Mikos was not a man who showed his emotions, and his reaction to the spirited blond suggested that things were about to get interesting.

Smiling at herself in the ornate mirror, Vivian felt a shiver of anticipation at the events she could sense unfolding. Tucking a stray lock of hair back, she began planning how she could make this work to her advantage. With a light step, she turned to go down to breakfast.

Marlena stared out the thick panes of glass, searching the slowly lightening landscape for some hint of her location. There was nothing familiar about the desolate landscape below. Rocky wilderness stretched out as far as her eye could see. She didn’t even know what day it was, much less her current location. She could still feel the effects of the sedatives forced upon her and the children in the form of the headache that pounded away behind her tired eyes. With a frustrated growl, she turned from the window and paced once more across the big bedroom. She had just about had it with being kidnaped!

Her anger flaring, she tugged once again at the knob of the thick wooden door, already knowing it was a futile gesture. The richly appointed bedroom suite was decorated in the finest of furnishings. From the Turkish rugs that covered the floors to the rich velvet drapes that hung from the windows, it exuded taste and wealth. It was still a cage, and Marlena recognized it as such. With a last pointless kick at the door, she moved to sink down on the large canopy bed.

Wearily, she rubbed at her throbbing temples, searching for some explanation of where she was and why she was there. Tears unexpectedly sprang to her eyes and she dashed them away, ashamed of the sign of weakness. Ashamed of her refusal to face the fact that she already knew why she was here. She had known it since the moment Bolen had turned them over to the squad of mercenaries that had descended on them from out of nowhere. Those men hadn’t wanted her. They hadn’t wanted her children. They hadn’t even wanted Dimera. She was here because she was bait. Bait in a trap for the one they really wanted. She was here because they wanted John.

A tremor ran through her at the thought of him. God, she needed him so badly. She wanted nothing more than to feel his strong arms wrapped around her, assuring her that nothing would ever harm her. She never felt safer than when she was in his arms. But if he came for her this time, she knew that she would lose him. The fear took her firmly in its grip, because she knew that he would come. No matter where she was, he would find her. And he would come. And they would kill him.

She pulled her knees up against her chest and fought back the sobs that seemed ready to overwhelm her. ‘Oh God, please let him be all right,’ she prayed silently. ‘Please, be all right.... John, where are you? John, please don’t come for me.’

Dammit! Where were they?

John fought the urge to scream, struggled against the blackness creeping in on his brain. The rage flared and he lashed out with one grimy fist, knotting his fingers into the stark white collar of the man beside him. “Find them, God dammit! I want them here or want your bleeding heart on a fucking plate! Do I make myself clear?”

Jensen froze. Staring into those eyes was like staring down the barrel of a gun. Black fire seared him and he had no doubt what-so-ever that John meant what he said. With a convulsive swallow, he nodded. “Yes sir, Mr. Black. We have agents blanketing the Alamain holdings. Men are in place to cover every lead. It is just a matter of time, sir.”

John didn’t let go, just kept staring down at him. Jensen’s world narrowed until it consisted of nothing but those blue eyes and the fingers that wrapped around his throat. Those eyes sought an excuse to destroy. Any excuse. For a fraction of a second, John’s fingers tightened. Then, with a grunt of frustration, John shoved him away.

“Get out. Don’t come back until you have news,” John said woodenly, turning away. Soundlessly, Jensen did as he was told.

Christ, it had been almost two full days since she had been taken. Two endless days. Anything could have happened in two days.

Cursing the wasted time, John slumped down in the leather chair behind the big desk. Yet another desk, in another study, in another safe-house. After a while, they all blurred together. He couldn’t even remember what state this particular desk resided in.

He tried to focus his eyes on the lines of the map, tried to trace the roads that led out of the Virginia wilderness. The image before him blurred, an endless sea of gray with no secrets to reveal. Groaning, he rubbed at gritty eyes and gave up the search. Too much wasted time. They could be anywhere by now. He had been too damn slow and now she was lost.

Twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours it had taken him to hike out of mountains and make contact. Hours spent dodging search patrols, crawling on his belly more often than not. Another three hours wasted in transit to a Dimera base. By the time the search had started, she had already been gone.

He had been using every resource at his command, and after twelve solid hours of work, he still had nothing. There was simply no sign of Marlena and the kids. No sign of Dimera. So tired he couldn’t think straight, his head dropped down to rest on his crossed arms. The stink of blood was on his hands and he distantly realized that he should shower. Eat. Function. He couldn’t remember why it was he should do such things, so he didn’t.

John sat. His mind drifted. As always, it drifted to her. He dozed off, and in his mind, he saw her face. A small smile curved his lips before he recognized the dream for the nightmare it was.

It seemed his eyes had been closed only seconds before he was jarred back to reality by a persistent knocking at the door. Dismissing the ugly dreams, he prayed for good news. “Come in,” he called sharply, glancing down at his watch to check the time. Five more wasted hours. A scowl on his face, he nodded brusquely to Jensen, who entered accompanied by two guards.

“You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long, You better be here to tell me you have some word,” John said, straightening in his chair and rubbing irritably at the back of his neck.

“Yes sir. We just got a call from the kidnappers. Untraceable, we checked,” Jensen replied.

“Well?”

“No details on where they were, sir. Just a voice, claiming to have Mr. Dimera and the Bradys. We were told that we were to contact them once we have you in custody. They want a trade. You for Mr. Dimera.” Jensen said the words in a monotone, his eyes not quite managing to meet John’s own.

“Aaah,” John replied, nodding. “And what are you going to do?” he asked in a deceptively mild tone, rising slowly to his feet.

“Whatever you tell me to sir.”

“Good choice, Jensen. And these two?” John asked, with a nod to the two armed guards.

“These two are to make sure that everybody else does what you tell them to. Sir,” Jensen replied, a ghost of a smile on his face.

At this, John actually managed a grim laugh. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t think bodyguards are necessary. Now, let’s figure out how we are going to get them back. I assume you taped the call? I want to hear it. I’d like to be able to recognize the voices of the men I’m going to kill.

Marlena walked slowly down the long staircase, followed closely by her children. She suppressed the desire to tug the black shawl closer around herself. Though she had been grateful to relinquish the pair of dirty jeans she had worn in favor of a long soak in a massive clawfoot tub, she was uncomfortable with the thought of wearing clothes that had so obviously been chosen by someone else.

The burgundy dress clung to her every curve, the velvet whispering slightly with each movement she made. The dress fell almost to the floor, and while she was glad of the warmth it provided within the cold stone walls of the castle, the plunging neckline still managed to leave her feeling exposed. The black lace shawl she had found draped in the armoire had seemed to provide her with a sense of cover. At least it had until she reached the bottom of the stairs and found herself trapped in the gaze of the man who awaited her.

“Dr. Evans. You appear none the worse for wear this morning, I am happy to say,” the man said, rising from his seat at the head of a massive mahogany dinning table.

He strode confidently across the room, and once again Marlena was struck by a sense of familiarity. There was something about this man that she should recognize, but she could not place what it was. His body was thick but well proportioned and he moved with an easy grace. Grey streaked the temples of his thick mane of hair, the way he wore it tied loosely behind his neck an odd anachronism that suited him. When he came to a stop before her, she realized that the breadth of the man’s shoulders had caused her to misjudge his height. He towered above her, inches taller than she had first thought. His physical presence was intimidating, and she sensed that he used this to his advantage. Resisting the urge to take a step back she held her ground, only to be startled when he took her hand and raised it to his lips.

Something about this man was very wrong and a shiver ran down her spine at his touch. She knew he had felt it when a smile quirked his lips. As she stared into his face, she recognized what she should have seen at the start. John’s face gazed down at her. John’s face, but not John’s eyes.

With a gasp, she jerked her hand away and stepped back, unable to tear herself away from those dark eyes. Their black depths bore into her and her breath caught in her throat. Scary things lurked behind those eyes. Scary, ugly things. She didn’t want this man anywhere near her or her children.

“Who are you?” she asked coldly, unwilling to show any sign of weakness to the man who stood before her.

“Ah, yes. We weren’t formally introduced last night, were we?” the big man asked sardonically, a self-satisfied smile curving his lips. “I am Mikovitch Alamain and I am honored to have you in my home, Marlena. You and your children,” he said, stepping back a step and looking over the small group before him.

“I do believe that this beautiful young woman must be your oldest child, Carrie?” he stated, giving a nod to the young woman. “Of course, she isn’t truly your child by blood, is she?”

“My children are none of your business, Mr. Alamain. I want to know why you have brought us here,” Marlena responded, reaching out to take Carrie’s hand in her own.

Ignoring her, the man turned his attention to Sami and Eric. Raising an eyebrow, he gave a half-bow. “Samantha and Eric, the twins. A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said, looking as if he were enjoying some private joke at their expense. Reaching out, he ran his finger below Sami’s chin, causing her to jerk violently away. “Such beautiful children you have, Marlena,” he said, with a nod of admiration.

“Keep your damn hands off my sister,” Eric growled, stepping in front of his sister.

“Watch your manners, boy. I do not tolerate ill-bred pups without the sense to respect their betters,” Mikovitch snapped out, his face taking on a dangerous scowl.

“Eric, don’t!” Marlena ordered, tugging her angry son away from the man whose very presence sent shivers of fear running through her.

“You should listen to your mother, Eric. I would think you have more sense than to insult your host,” Mikovitch said, turning abruptly away to move back to his seat at the table. With a broad sweep of one arm, he indicated that they should sit. “Of course, I guess I shouldn’t expect too much of them. After all, the children are the brood of your first husband. Roman Brady, I believe his name was?”

Though the words were said casually, his eyes studied her intently, and Marlena immediately knew that it was somehow very important that none of the children were John’s. Allowing some of the anger she felt to creep into her voice, she replied. “Yes. Roman is their father. He was a good man, and I will not hear you suggest otherwise.”

“Of course. You are quite correct. I apologize to you all.” Mikos managed a stiff nod.

Before Marlena could form a response, a shrill voice rang throughout the room. “Oh, now really! We have guests for the first time in ages and you don’t even wait for me to beginning dinning!”

The words were closely followed by a petite redhead who breezed into the room in a manner usually reserved for hurricanes. “Honestly, Mikos! What were you thinking?!” the woman chastised, coming to a stop behind an empty chair at the big table.

“My apologies to you too then,” Mikos said, only the barest hint of sarcasm in his voice. Gesturing to the empty seat, he continued. “And the food was waiting upon your arrival. Now, if I may? Vivian D’pua, I would like to introduce you to our ‘guests’. This is Dr. Marlena Evans, and these are her children, Carrie, Eric, and Samantha.”

“It’s Sami,” the youngest girl corrected, shooting a challenging look toward the head of the table.

“Sami.... What a lovely name,” Vivian interjected smoothly, ignoring her nephew’s frown of disapproval. “It is just such a pleasure to have company in this dreary old castle of Mikos’,” she continued with a bright smile.

“We aren’t exactly here voluntarily,” Marlena responded dryly, not quite certain what to make of this seemingly ditzy redhead. Beneath the flashy exterior, Marlena could sense a steel edge as sharp as any she had known.

“Well company is company. One can’t be all that choosey around here, you know,” Vivian answered with a careless flip of her hand. Reaching for the cup of coffee in front of her, Vivian focused inquisitive eyes on Marlena. “Now my dear, why don’t you tell me all about yourself? It has been so long since I’ve had anyone other than Mikos to chat with over morning coffee.”

“Vivian, please refrain from pumping our guests for information. It is unseemly,” Mikos commented from his seat at the head of the table, his attention focused on the smoked herring that was his usual morning fare.

“Why exactly are we here?” Marlena asked, her food lying untouched before her.

“You are not one for small talk, I see,” he replied, looking up at her with amusement. “But, if you wish to spoil breakfast by discussing such unpleasantness, then so be it. Your presence here is an accident. A most pleasant accident, I might add.”

“Your attack on the compound in Virginia did not seem ‘accidental’ to me,” Marlena shot back, her eyes narrowing in anger.

Mikos could not help but smile. “No, perhaps not. But it was the only way for me to issue my… invitation for a meeting. I have business with one ‘John Black’. I believe that you are familiar with the man? He was even a husband of sorts, unless I was terribly misinformed.”

“I ‘am’ married to John Black,” Marlena responded, emphasizing her words. “It may not have been under his own name, but we are still husband and wife.”

“Of course you are,” was the condescending reply.

“My ‘husband’ has no desire to do business of any sort with you, Mr. Alamain, and he has the ability to make your life very uncomfortable. I would suggest that you release all of us immediately,” Marlena said hotly, her anger overriding her fear.

“‘John Black’ is not a threat to me,” Mikos replied, his voice growing threatening. “He will do as I command him to or he will suffer the consequences!”

“You aren’t fit to shine his boots!” she spat out, rising from her chair and flinging her napkin to the table. Without another word, she turned and walked quickly from the table back toward the privacy of her room. The children followed quickly in her wake.

He watched in admiration as she stalked angrily away. He had found her intriguing when he read her file. Independent, intelligent, and very very beautiful. An aristocratic beauty with hair of spun gold, she looked more like royalty than any queen he had ever met. ‘At least his brother showed good taste in women,’ he had thought at the time. Little had he realized, the pictures did not even come close to capturing the reality of her.

He had thought that she would be cold, reserved. Above all, frightened. Instead, her mere presence generated heat. There was fire inside that woman. He had seen it blazing out from her eyes when she thought he wouldn’t notice. ‘He would not go to sleep with his back turned on that one,’ he thought wryly. It made him want her. The fact that she had belonged to his brother made him want her even more

His brother. The boy had done quite well for himself. He now had control of one of the most powerful criminal cartels in the world. How he felt about that, Mikos was not quite certain. On the one hand, it only made sense. After all, blood will tell. Alexander was his brother. Half-brother, at least. It should come as no surprise that he had risen to the top of his profession. In a sense, the man had won a kingdom of his own.

And that, of course, was the problem. There was only room for one ruler in the Alamain line. There was only room for one king. Little Alexi showed an appalling lack of respect in trying to build a kingdom of his own. His place would be to serve, not to rule. As for the woman.... Well, little brother had no right to aspire to such a one as that.

For a moment, the image flitted before his eyes. His brother on his knees before him, head bent in respect. Paying him the homage that was his due. The woman at Mikos’ side, her eyes never leaving his face. It was a lovely image. Perhaps having a brother would not be such a bad thing after all. With a satisfied sigh, he leaned back in the armchair and raised his eyes to the heavens.

‘Ah.... Alexi,’ he thought. ‘Hurry home little brother.’

-----

Hot water beat down on tender skin and John rubbed hard with the rag in an attempt to remove the ground-in dirt. His arms stung, still reddened by the heat of the flames that had consumed Bryce. He ignored the sensation, the buzz of the amphetamines racing through his mind. Detached from the world around him, he was numb to everything but the desire to have her back. The need for her burned in his blood.

An ugly smile curved his lips and his hands clenched in anticipation. His anger now had a direction. A point of focus. Jensen had come through for him again. A contact had reported that their plane had landed in Spain.

He would follow. He would find her. He would punish those who had taken her.

He breathed deeply, trying to control the restless energy that made his muscles crackle and knot. He wanted nothing more than to go to her. Take her. Crush any who stood in his way. Only his years of training held him back. Made him wait. Made him think. He could not be careless with her life. Would not risk her through haste. He would follow her, but before he did, there was something he needed to get. There was someone he needed to get.

Bo walked into the silent warehouse, every nerve in his body screaming at him to leave, to at least call for back-up. Instead, he yelled into the darkness. “I’m here. I came alone. Just as you asked.” His words echoed back from the high rafters and he heard the flutter of wings as disgruntled pigeons took flight.

The quiet again descended, and Bo was left with the recognition that this was probably one of the stupidest things he had ever done. When the tip had come in, he should have told someone. Should have asked for cover. But there were too many rumors. Rumors that the recent rash of killings in the ISA were connected to a section of rogue agents. Rumors that the corruption might reach high levels. Bo was no longer certain he could trust the enforcement agencies. Abe was the only man he was sure of. But Abe would never have allowed him to make this meet without back-up, and Bo was unwilling to extend his trust that far. Thus he stood, alone in the silence. Waiting for an informant who would help him find Marlena.

Suddenly, though he heard no sound, Bo realized that a dark shadow was coalescing in a shrouded corner of the building. Slowly, not wanting to frighten the man away, he moved forward. Squinting to make-out the man’s features, he kept his tone calm. “You said you had some information for me? That you knew the whereabouts of Marlena Evans and her children?”

He could see the man clearly now, standing silently beside a large packing crate. Even before he processed the man’s face, his hand flashed to his shoulder holster. He cocked the hammer as he aimed and fought the urge to pull the trigger. “Raise your hands, John. And you better move slow. I even think you’re going for a gun, and I will allow myself the pleasure of killing you right now,” he grated, his eyes hard.

Casually, the man in the shadows stepped forward, raising his hands out to his sides. “Not a very cordial greeting for someone who is trying to do you a favor,” he chided, the whisper of an ironic smile gracing his features.

Eyes narrowing in anger, Bo snapped “On your knees, John. I want to see you on the ground, with your hands on your head. Right now, John. Or you are a dead man.”

John studied the man before him. He looked willing to kill. Hell, he probably even believed he would do it. But John had been trained by the very best. He had no doubt that Bo would do as he wanted him to in the end.

Slowly lowering his arms to his sides, John gave a slight shrug. “Mmm… I think not, Bo. I think that as long as you want to find Marlena and the kids, you are going to do exactly as I say.”

Their eyes locked, and Bo reluctantly lowered his weapon. John felt a pang of remorse as he recognized the flash of helplessness that crossed Bo’s face. It was the same feeling he had had ever since she had been taken. Bo would just have to live with it, just like he was.

“What is it you want from me?” Bo asked hoarsely, holding his revolver at his side. Unwilling to holster it while John still stood before him.

The odd smile returned to John’s face as he replied. “I want a second in command. I want you, Bo.” Turning abruptly, he started toward the open bay at the back of the warehouse. His voice carried over his shoulder to Bo. “We haven’t got much time. I will explain it all to you on the plane. “

Against his will, Bo found himself moving to catch up to the swiftly fading figure as it stalked into the night.

His patience wearing thin, Bo sank into the thick leather of the chair and pulled the belt tight across his hips. The engines of the private jet whined with barely leashed power and with a sudden surge the plane sprang forward into the air. His temper rising, Bo shot a hard look in the direction of his ‘host’. The bastard just sat there, lounging behind the narrow table that dominated the far side of the Lear jet. Staring into space, his face revealed nothing. Dead eyes drifted over to meet Bo’s gaze, and a chill ran down his spine.

“If it’s not too much trouble, would you care to inform me as to where we’re going?” Bo asked tightly, his anger showing through in his voice.

Gods, he did not want to talk about this. He didn’t even want to think about it, but there was nothing he could about that. If he wanted Bo’s help, he’d have to talk about it too. With a smile that failed to reach his eyes, John shrugged. “Like I said, we’re going to get Marlena. I thought I had made myself clear.”

Wanting nothing more than to slap the smug look from his face, Bo slipped free of his seat and stood to confront the man he had called ‘brother’. “The only thing that is ‘clear’ from where I stand is that you are a lying son of a bitch,” he hissed from between clenched teeth.

Leaning back in his seat, John studied the angry man in front of him. It was a pose he had seen many times. Bo, standing in the interrogation room, his sleeves rolled up and a combative glare in his eyes. It was a pose that had elicited many a confession from cowed suspects. Almost amused to find himself on the receiving end of that glare, he dryly commented, “It’s nice to see you haven’t lost your ability to comprehend the obvious. You’ll go far as a cop.”

Bo’s patience came to an abrupt end, and with startling speed his hand flashed forward to latch onto John’s collar. Putting his weight behind the effort, he wrenched the man half out of his seat and leaned across the narrow table. His words growled out like the threat they were. “You are going to tell me where Marlena is. You are going to do it right now, or so help me God, I will take you apart one piece at a time.”

Unmoving, John simply stared back. Finally, he straightened to his full height. “If I had her, I wouldn’t need you, now would I?”

It was not the response he had expected, and reluctantly Bo allowed the silk of the shirt to slip from his grasp. “Why do you need me?” he asked more calmly.

John turned his head away and moved to the bar at the front of the plane. If he hadn’t known better, Bo would have sworn he had seen a glimmer of pain in those cold blue eyes. In lieu


of an answer, the man reached for a bottle and poured a tumbler full of straight bourbon. In one fluid motion, he drained the glass and poured another. Almost as an afterthought, he reached into the small fridge beneath the bar and pulled out a bottle of Redhook. Casually, he turned to toss the bottle to Bo. “Try a decent beer for a change, why don’t you,” he said, walking back up the aisle.

“Why do you need me?” Bo repeated, emphasizing the words as if speaking to a particularly dense child.

Giving a small sigh, John rubbed one hand wearily across his face and gestured to the table. “We might as well sit. It’s going to be a long ride. Even in the jet, Europe will take seven hours.”

“And we are going to Europe why?” Bo said, easing himself down into one of the chairs at the table and beginning to feel like he was talking to a retard.

“We are going to Europe because that is where Marlena is. Why did you think we were going?” John answered, raising a brow and taking another deep drink from his glass. The hundred proof went down like water, doing nothing to make him forget. What was the point of drinking if it couldn’t make you forget?

“John, are you drunk?” Bo blurted suddenly, trying to make sense of the man’s disjointed ramblings.

John stifled a chuckle and looked into the amber depths of his glass. “I don’t get drunk,” he muttered almost to himself before taking another swig.

“Okay...” Bo drawled out, watching John with a mixture of concern and distrust. “So we are going to get Marlena. Where exactly is she?”

Still staring into his now empty glass, John shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied, his voice a whisper.

Exasperated, Bo replied sharply, “John...”

“I don’t fucking know! What part of that don’t you understand!” John yelled, slamming his glass to the table and once again shooting to his feet. Unable to contain the restlessness that set his nerves to fire, he paced to the end of the aisle and leaned against the wet bar. Staring into the green marble of the top, he absently traced a streak of white quartz with his finger. When he finally spoke, his voice was detached.

“Alamain. Mikovitch Alamain has her. Her. The kids. Dimera.” He snorted at the image, and then closed his eyes and shook his head as if to dislodge the thought. “He took them all. Right out from under me. He took them all. He has connections and properties all over Europe. We traced a plane out of D.C. to Spain. They were on it. Of that we’re certain. After Spain...” he again shrugged.

“John, are you trying to make me believe that you didn’t kidnap Marlena and the kids from Salem?”

With an ugly chuckle, John turned to again face Bo. “Christ no. You aren’t stupid enough to believe that. I do give you a little credit, you know.”

“Your confidence is touching, John. Really,” Bo muttered sarcastically, wondering if it was too late to pull his gun and force the pilot to change course for Salem.

‘Fuck you, Bo,’ he sent up in a silent curse. He did not want to talk about Marlena. To name the ways he had betrayed her would only make it more real. “Did you figure out I didn’t kill Roman?” John asked, startling Bo with the sudden change in topic.

At the mention of his brother’s death, the pain of the loss came flooding back. His hands tightened into fists, and for a moment he forgot to breathe. “I had my doubts,” he finally answered, his tone cold. “It didn’t fit your M.O.... Besides, it appears there was some link to an ISA operation. It’s starting to look like maybe there were some rogue agents. Roman may have been on their trail.”

Meeting Bo’s eyes, John merely nodded his head. “That sounds more likely,” he answered simply.

“I don’t suppose you know anything about that, do you?” Bo commented suspiciously.

At the memory of what he had done to Jameson, he had to fight a hysterical laugh. Jameson would look like a mercy killing compared to what he wanted to do next. With the hint of a smile showing, John gave a slight shrug. “Nothing that bares discussing now. But… I don’t think you need to worry about the men responsible for Roman’s death, Bo. I have a feeling that that account has been settled.”

“Do you, now?”

Holding his gaze, John nodded. “It’s a very strong feeling.”

“The assassinations in D.C.?” Bo asked, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“The account is settled, Bo. Let’s leave it at that,” John answered, turning back to face the bar. Drawing in a deep breath, he reached again for the half empty bottle of bourbon. Dispensing with the need for a glass, he titled the bottle to his lips and let the liquid fire burn a path down his throat. With a slight shudder, he closed his eyes and tried to clear his thoughts. Softly, he commented, “She was supposed to be home by now. Did you know that? Marlena was supposed to be home by now.... But I fucked up. I was weak and I was careless and I lost her. Another of God’s little jokes,” he said, breaking into a bitter laugh.

The facade cracked and he violently slammed the bottle against the marble counter, the glass shattering in his hand. The sound of destruction was a relief, and with a sweep of his arm he ripped a rack of glasses from the wall, sending them crashing to the floor.

Bo was on his feet in an instance, the distance to John covered without time for thought. He wrapped his right arm around the man’s shoulders and tried to pull him back from the broken glass. At the contact, he felt the sharp blow of an elbow to his ribs and staggered back in surprise. John’s form whirled around, his hand flashing up from his shoulder holster. Lips drawn back in an ugly snarl, his eyes were black as he drew a bead with his automatic. Bo could make out every detail of the stylized weapon as John’s finger flicked off the safety and he cocked the hammer.

“You fuck!! You lousy fuck!” he yelled, stepping forward to press the barrel to Bo’s forehead. Bo froze in place, not daring the slightest movement that might set the man off. For a long moment, John held his pose. Finally, he drew in a great gasp of air and allowed his suddenly shaking hand to drop to his side. The sound of the safety clicking into place carried clearly in the tension filled silence. As Bo watched, the mask of calm once again fell into place. Almost as if he were afraid to hold the gun, John tossed it carelessly to the floor.

“Don’t worry about the mess. Somebody will clean it up when we land. I’m going to get some sleep in the back,” he said as if nothing had happened. Without further comment, he brushed by Bo’s shaken form and strode up the aisle to the back room of the plane.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He could only lay there, staring out the window. Watching the clouds race by far below. Seeing her face.

Her face. He had loved her from the first moment he laid eyes on her. He saw her now as he had seen her then. Golden hair. Porcelain skin. Eyes that a man could lose himself in. The first time she had touched him had been the first time he had known peace.

The images paraded through his mind, an unnoticed grimace curving his lips in anticipation of the things he knew were to come. She had lunged at him, a knife in her hand, her eyes spitting fire. Her hatred had been a hurt greater than any he had ever experienced. Greater than any he could have imagined. He would have done anything to erase that look of hatred. He would have given anything to make it go away. In the end, he had given up everything that he was. It had been a small price to pay.

He wrapped his arms around his body and squeezed his eyes tight shut. Still the memories came. The first time he had held his daughter. Those bright eyes staring up at him with such a look of trust. Sami had owned his heart from that day forward. He would never forget the feeling of awe, knowing that the tiny being he held in his arms was his. Knowing that the little girl had been created from the love he shared with her mother. He would never forget that feeling, no matter how hard he tried.

He curled his legs to his chest, huddling in on himself. Trying not to feel the silk of her skin beneath the pads of his fingers. Trying not to smell her perfume, the heady scent which always made it hard for him to concentrate on anything but her. The sound of satin sliding across her body as he slowly slipped her nightgown away. Oh God, the way she had looked at him the first night they made love.

He knew what would happen next. What always happened next. He grit his teeth, a low moan building in the back of his throat. The fire raged upward in his vision, the house burning to cinders, Marlena inside. The first time he had killed her.

The plane, rocketing into the sky. The feeling of having his lungs ripped out as he watched the twisted metal plummeting into the sea. The wish to die. The second time he had killed her.

The betrayals, one after the other. Her face, as he shot a man down in front of her. The fear in her eyes when he had come to lead her out of the compound. Bullets and blood and fire. A dead husband. A dead child. A brief reprieve. Bliss. And then she was gone.

The last vision was always the worst vision. It was a vision of things to come. A room. A bed. A dark figure. Thick. Strong. Male. A scream in the night. When the man finally rises from the figure lying motionless on the bed, he wears John’s face. The third time he killed her.

Lurching from the narrow cot, he fell to his knees, retching into the small metal trash bin until past the point of exhaustion. The dry heaves finally eased, leaving him feeling bruised and beaten. Raggedly, he pulled himself up to again perch on the cot. Drawing his knees up to his chest he sat, rocking gently back and forth. His head buried behind his knees, he closed his eyes and again accepted his punishment.

Seeing her face. He had loved her from the first time he laid eyes on her. He sat and watched her face. The first time he had killed her…

-----

She stood silently, pulling the shawl tightly around her as she watched the door close firmly shut. The lock clicked with finality and she was cut off. Cut off from freedom. From her children. From John. Tears once again threatened as the anger she had felt turned to despair. She had handled the meeting with her captor so badly, letting her emotions get away from her. She knew better than that. Alamain had liked it when she lost her temper. She didn’t want to do anything that that man liked.

Where was Stefano? At the very least, he might have some idea of the reason for this vendetta against John. If only she had used her head instead of her heart, she might have discovered something useful from the horrid encounter with Mikovitch Alamain and his eccentric aunt. Frustrated with herself, Marlena moved to collapse onto the soft cushions of the bed.

Closing her eyes, she tried not to think about the way he had watched her. There was something very… possessive in the way he had followed her every move. That was the only way to describe it. As if she were some shiny item he wished to own. Marlena had no desire to be owned.

Feeling suddenly claustrophobic she moved to sit at the large window, staring out into the open country side and its promise of freedom. Somewhere out there, she knew he was searching for here. He was coming for her. She could sense it. Now was not the time for tears, it was time to plan. She had to be ready when he came. She would not lose him again.

“The first thing we have to do is meet with Jensen,” John said, walking stiffly toward the waiting limo. His movements were jerky, as if every step required a conscious act of will. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, though his face was deathly pale. Bo wondered how it was possible for the man to keep his feet.

“Dammit, Bo! Pay attention. This is serious,” John snapped, startling Bo back to the needs of the moment.

“Yea. I heard you. We meet with Jensen. No problem,” Bo muttered, sliding into the plush leather of the car and shooting the chauffeur a nasty look. “So who is this Jensen guy again?”

Reigning in his impatience, John forced himself to go slow. “Jensen is the defacto next in charge after me. He’s actually a brilliant tactician. Not much for field work, but he is Stefano’s closest adviser. He knows every facet of the organization. We need him if we are going to get Marlena and the kids back.”

“I thought you said he was the cook?” Bo said, watching as John leaned his head back against the seat and stared blankly at the ceiling.

“He’s a bit eccentric,” was the weary reply. “But he’s a good man. He knows his business.”

“So this is the guy you trust to get Marlena back?”

John chuckled, tilting his head to give Bo an ugly smile. “I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. In the end, his first loyalty will be to Dimera. He’d put a bullet in my back and leave Marlena and the kids to rot if that’s what it took to get Dimera. Hell, it’s one of the reasons I admire him.”

The big car hummed along the road, and for a moment the two men simply sat in silence. Finally, John said softly, “That’s why I need you Bo. I need someone I can trust to put Marlena first. You are it. If I go down, you’re in charge. You damn well better be there for her.”

Bo looked over at the slouched figure beside him. He was so cold, so empty inside. The only emotion he seemed to own was rage. God, how had the man who had been his brother turned into this? “What makes you think you can just tell these guys that I’m second in command and they’ll buy it?”

“Easy. They know I’ll kill them if they don’t.”

“Jensen, meet Bo Brady. After me, he’s in charge. Got that?” John said, walking through the office door without bothering to knock.

Unperturbed, Jensen looked up from the map draped across Dimera’s large desk. “Understood, sir.”

Giving the man behind the desk the once-over, Bo had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. This guy looked like an accountant. From the school tie around the neck of his stiffly starched shirt to the polished wingtips on his feet, the man exuded prissy English propriety. ‘No wonder John had to call me in,’ Bo thought smugly.

“So? We got any new leads,” John asked without preamble, moving to study the large map.

“No sir, not yet Mr. Black. Mikos Alamain has four separate residences in Europe alone and more holdings than I care to contemplate. Many of his properties are in hard to reach areas. So far, none of our contacts report any indication of Mr. Dimera’s presence.”

With a distracted nod, John rubbed at the back of his stiff neck and tried to decide on a course of action. Any action. If he didn’t find something productive to do, he was going to lose his freak’n mind.

“Um, sir?” Jensen interjected. “We did have another contact from the people holding Mr. Dimera. They called several hours ago, while you were still on the flight.”

“Well?” John fastened glittering eyes onto Jensen’s suddenly pale face.

“They think we are stalling, sir. The kidnappers ordered us to turn you over to them within 48 hours. If we don’t, they said they would start by sending the Brady children over in pieces. They said they would work their way up to Mr. Dimera.”

When John failed to make any reply, Jensen continued. “They want us to meet them here, in Europe. England, specifically. Guess they didn’t want to try and risk smuggling you through customs, which suggests they want to keep you alive. It bought us the extra time, sir. We still might find them before the meet.”

They would hurt his children. To get to him, they would hurt his children. He’d put a bullet in his brain rather than risk that. With a sigh of resignation, John looked down to the map once again, hoping its secrets would reveal themselves to him. There was nothing. “Are we going to find them in the next 48 hours, Jensen?”.

“No sir. I don’t think we will.”

With a slight shrug, John straightened his shoulders and looked Jensen in the eye. “Then what do you suggest we do?”

“We give them what they asked for, sir.”

Bo tread lightly down the darkened hallway, careful not to rouse the attention of any of the wandering guards. It was almost dawn and the big house was wrapped in silence. If he was going to try and call home, now was the time. Slipping quietly across the hardwood floors, he stopped at the doorway to the office where he had spent the evening going over the details of the Alamain holdings with John and Jensen. To Bo’s relief, the door was unlocked. The thick wooden door swung open without protest, and he quickly stepped into the shadowed room. Glowing embers from the brick fireplace bathed the room in a reddish light and his eyes slowly adjusted to the point he could make out the shape of the furnishings. With a sudden start, he realized he was not alone.

A pair of eyes studied him, the red of the flames dancing across their surface. For a moment it seemed as if he had entered a realm of demons, for there was nothing of humanity in gaze that held his own.

“Bo?”

The sound broke him from the spell and he recognized the dark void that was John. A crackle of sparks briefly dispelled the darkness, and in that instance Bo saw the cold shine of the chrome-plated pistol clutched in the big hand. The gun pointed toward the ceiling, cradled against the side of John’s head, and Bo had a moment to wonder who it was intended for. The sparks faded swiftly, and as the darkness once more enveloped them Bo could feel the tension radiating from the man behind the big desk. The hair on the back of his neck rose in response to a threat he did not yet understand. “What are you doing here at this hour?” he asked, his mundane question an unconscious effort to restore a sense of normalcy to the scene.

A harsh chuckle rippled through the darkness. “Waiting for my salvation.”

When no elaboration was forthcoming, Bo slowly moved to the fireplace. Careful not to initiate a confrontation, he kept his eyes fixed on the dying flames. Casually, he reached to toss another log on the embers, stoking the fire to produce enough light to see by.

“You figure you’ll find salvation in the barrel of a gun?” he asked, his tone low and gentle as he watched the leaping flames.

Again the laughter echoed through the room. “I always have before. Why should this time be any different?” John replied with words that slurred tiredly together.

Backing from the heat of the now roaring fire, Bo turned to face the man at the desk. He was not surprised to see an almost empty bottle perched beside John’s left hand. “And you needed a little liquid courage to help you on your way?”

John offered a cold smile in response. Bo was an idiot if he thought it took courage to die. He wasn’t afraid to use the gun, he was tempted to. Lowering the weapon, he clicked the safety on and lay the gun to rest on the desk before him, his fingers reluctant to relinquish the cool comforting feel of death from their touch. To give his hands something to do, he grabbed the bottle. Draining its contents in a single motion, he gave a long sigh that verged on a moan and tilted his head back to study the ceiling.

“Kills the pain. Makes it all go away. That’s what whiskey’s supposed to do, didn’t you know that, Bo? Hell, I thought you listened to country music.” His chuckle rasp out like sandpaper over glass, painful to hear.

Bo could feel the agony in the whispered words, and despite himself he searched for something to ease the man’s hurt. “You lost her before and got her back, John. Remember when she went down on the plane. We thought we lost her for good then. But she came back. She came back to you. To her family. We’ll get her back again.”

John simply stared at the heavens, his breath rasping out harshly in the silence of the room. Finally, as if losing the fight to his inner demons, he lurched to his feet and began pacing across the floor. He stalked the room, grinding his fists into tired eyes in an effort to drive away the assaulting waves of memories. “Yea, Bo. I remember that. I remember it all too well. Do you remember?”

Not knowing what the man was driving at, Bo simply stared at him mutely. Angrily, John stepped to him. “I remember every time I put her in danger. I remember every time she paid the price for being with me! And I remember being at Mom and Pops when you told me what I didn’t want to know! I remember everything! How’s your memory, little brother?!” John spat, sending Bo lurching backward with a sudden shove.

Bo stumbled, trying to keep his feet. His eyes narrowed, and he fought the urge to take a swing at the man before him. “What the hell is your problem?!”

“What? Did you forget? You’re the one who first knew the truth, Bo! You’re the one who told me Marlena’s ‘death’ was my fault the first time I lost her! I couldn’t deny it then and I can’t deny it now! Every fucking time she has needed me, I have failed her. Jesus, Bo! The woman taught me the meaning of love and I repay her by hurting her, over and over again!” Unwilling to face the disgust he knew Bo must feel for him, he turned away. Ever muscle in his body burned with the rage that surged through him, washing away the exhaustion of endless hours without sleep. His fists clenched until blood stained his palms, the need for violence so intense he could not see past it. Every conscious thought intensified the hurt and he ached to lose himself in the chaos of destruction. The light touch of a human hand was all the excuse he needed and he whirled around to smash a hard fist into the face that appeared before him.

The impact of the unexpected blow slammed Bo’s head back and he crumpled to his knees with the taste of blood in his mouth. Dazed, he gazed up at John’s looming form. The look in those black eyes was not entirely sane, and the muscles in the man’s shoulders seemed to knot with barely constrained fury. “Get the fuck out of here, Bo. Get out now,” John hissed almost incoherently.

There was murder in those eyes and Bo could feel his heart hammering against his ribs. Crouching on his knees, he held very still. “No.”

John’s lips pulled back in an angry snarl and his arm snaked down to yank the younger man to his feet. As Bo’s hand came up to grab at his wrist, he stepped forward and slammed him hard against the wall. The air ‘whooshed’ from his lungs, and Bo sagged in John’s hand gasping for breath. With a low groan, he turned his head to spit out the foul taste of the blood from his split lip. “Is this what you want, John?” he coughed, grabbing on to John’s arm and struggling to keep his feet.

John’s eyes narrowed to slits, and for an instance Bo thought that he would be in a fight for his very life. With a growl of frustration, John abruptly dropped him and turned away.

Harsh breathing was the only sound that broke the silence. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, shaking his head from side to side like a wounded bull. “Christ, Bo. I’m sorry.”

Leaning against the wall, Bo bent of to rest his palms on his knees. Trying to catch his breath, he dabbed at the still bleeding cut on his lip. “Yea, well you should be, man. Dammit, I can’t believe you split my lip like that!” he muttered indignantly.

“If you weren’t so damn stubborn, you wouldn’t be bleeding right now, would you?” John sniped in spite of himself.

Straightening slowly, Bo shot him an ugly look and moved to the wet bar. He reached for the tub of ice, muttering “Always such a hardass,” under his breath.

As intended, the remark drew a reluctant chuckle. Turning to face him, John ran a hand through his hair and shot Bo a rueful grin. “Hell, you usually deserve it.”

Wincing as his lips curved in a slight smile, Bo commented, “Nice apology. You better work on it before you try explaining to Hope why you kidnaped me and carried me off to Europe. She’s not nearly as understanding as I am.”

At that, John could not help an amused grunt. “No way I’m explaining this to Hope. She’s your woman, you deal with her.”

“Oh! I’m telling Marlena you said that. She is going to jerk a knot in you, boy,” Bo snapped back, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Jarred from the moment by the mention of her name, John glanced guiltily away. “Hope she gets the chance,” he said softly.

Stepping to him, Bo cautiously reached out to grip his shoulder. “We will get her back, John. We’ll get them all back and take them home. I promise you,” he said, giving the older man a firm shake.

Stepping back, John broke the contact. His face suddenly cold, he locked eyes with Bo. “We better,” he said, and Bo could not tell if it was a promise or a threat. His jaw clenched tightly shut and John walked back over to the bar. Absently, he ran his finger over the label of a bottle of 20 year old scotch.

“Hey, John. It’s been a long night. Why don’t you call it a day and get some sleep?” Bo broke in, trying to draw him back from his bleak thoughts.

Stiffly, the man shrugged and pulled the bottle to him. “I can’t sleep, Bo. I just lay there in bed and think of her. Think of what they might be doing to her.... No point in my even trying to sleep,” he said, his voice breaking.

“So, what? Your plan is to drink until you pass out?”

Nodding agreeably John grunted, “Basically, yea. That was the plan.”

“I’ve heard better plans in my day,” was Bo’s wry response. “Look, I don’t need a partner who is terminally hung over. What say we sit and chat. Hope says I’m the best bedtime story teller there is. If I can’t put you out, nothing can.”

“You want to tell me a bedtime story?” John shot Bo a disbelieving look.

“Well, I don’t exactly ‘want’ to do it, but it would beat sitting here and watching you drink till you puke,” Bo replied, moving to sit on the long couch.

“So who said you had to sit here and watch? And what are you doing in here, anyway?” Putting the bottle down, John stumbled to the wingback chair by the fireplace. Hunching down in the chair, he flopped one leg over the padded armrest and studied Bo’s face curiously.

Surprised by the question, Bo flushed and looked away. “Well… I was going to call Hope. Let her know where I am. You haven’t let me call her, and she’s got to be going out of her head by now. Hell, you know her, John....”

Rubbing at the back of his neck, John shook his head. “No calls, Bo. This is need-to-know only.”

“She is not going to be thrilled with me running off to Europe with you of all people as it is. John, she is literally going to kill me if I don’t call her,” Bo answered, hating to sound like he was begging but willing to do it if John would let him call Hope.

John merely snorted, amused by how well trained Hope had Bo. “How is that wife of yours anyway?”

“Beautiful as always, man. Her and Sean Douglas are doing fine.”

“You did Pops proud there, Bo,” John commented, glancing over. Suddenly uncomfortable with the topic, he dropped his eyes. “How are Ma… Um, Sean and Caroline. How are they?”

Bo gave a shrug. “What do you think? They’re worried. Everybody’s worried John. Marlena and the kids missing. Now me. Dammit, John! It’s only been a few months since we lost Roman! You got to let me call them. Tell them everything’s okay.”

“Everything is not ‘okay’, Bo. Nothing is okay. You know that.”

“They think you killed Roman. They think you took Marlena. John, that almost destroyed Pop! They need to know it wasn’t you. You owe them that much,” Bo argued, his voice tight at the memories of what his family had suffered.

“You all should have known that I would never do anything like that. Anything to hurt the family,” John replied irritably, hurt that they would doubt him. Saddened that they had good cause.

“Yea, well you didn’t give us much reason to believe in you, now did you? You just ran off and deserted everybody. You didn’t even try and stay, try and explain what happened. That didn’t exactly inspire anybody’s confidence,” Bo retorted, glad of the chance to say what he felt.

“It was for your own good, and you know it!”

“That wasn’t how it felt, John. It felt like you betrayed us. You betrayed us and turned to a man who has done everything in his power to destroy our family. That’s how it felt!” Bo accused, daring the man to deny the truth of his words.

Instead of answering, John turned his head to stare into the shifting flames. He wouldn’t argue the point. He couldn’t. Bo was right. “If you need to call, then do it,” he finally said, his tone detached.

For a moment, Bo studied the man’s features, seeking some sign of his thoughts. When no revelations were forthcoming, he gave a sigh and rose to retrieve the phone. As he dialed the number he shot an irritated look in John’s direction, wishing the man would give him some privacy. The tiny ring in his ear focused his mind on more important issues. “Alice?” he said into the phone.

John tried to submerge himself in the dance of the flames. Bo’s conversation was none of his business. None of his concern. It wasn’t his family.

“Alice, let Hope know I’m alright. I’m searching for Marlena. I got a lead. Look, I’ll call in the morning and fill her in. And Alice. Can you do me a favor? I need to get a message to Mom and Pops...”

It wasn’t any of his business, John repeated the mantra in his head, lulling himself away from his surroundings and losing himself in the twisting cinders of wood as they contorted under the heat of the flames. He had almost managed to make himself not think when Bo’s voice broke him out of his stupor.

“John! Hey, John. Come on. Mrs. H wants to talk to you!” Bo said, shoving the phone in John’s direction.

Out of it, John stumbled to his feet and brought the phone to his ear. Holding the phone almost gingerly, he hesitantly said, “Mrs. Horton?.... Yes ma’am. Alice.... No, ma’am. I didn’t have anything to do with that.... Yes ma’am. I won’t let anything happen to Bo… Yes, I know what Hope would do to me.... Yes ma’am, I’m really sorry we called and woke you up. It was very inconsiderate. I told Bo that.... Yes ma’am, sometimes he is pretty thoughtless. I’ll speak to him about it. I promise.... Yes, I’ll personally make sure he calls in the morning once Hope is home.... Yes ma’am. I will.... Goodnight, Mrs. Horton… Alice. Goodnight.”

Stunned, John pulled the phone away from his ear and gently sat it back in its cradle. He turned to fasten wide eyes on Bo. “Jesus, she is worse than Stefano! How on earth do you handle her?”

“Generally, I try and stay on her good side,” Bo answered with a wry smile, the relief he felt at hearing the familiar voice making him almost giddy.

“Hey. Um, thanks for letting me call,” he added, slightly uncomfortable with the mix of emotions he was feeling toward John. “They were worried. Hope was down at the station, helping set up a search for me. Alice is going to straighten it out. I don’t want the family worrying.”

Absently, John nodded. “No. Wouldn’t want the family worrying… Look, why don’t you get some sleep, Bo. You’ve done what you came to do. Go to bed.”

“I don’t follow your orders anymore John. I think I’m going to sit here just as long as you do,” Bo responded, resuming his perch on the couch. There was no way in hell he was going to leave that man in a room by himself.

Tearing his eyes from the fire, John glared at Bo. “I promise to neither shoot myself nor get drunk. I don’t need a nursemaid. Go to bed.”

Not deigning to respond, Bo snuggled down into the thick cushions and pulled a woolen throw across his body. With a happy sigh, he shot John a contented smile and closed his eyes. Briefly he wondered if John was relieved by his refusal to leave or whether he was actually pissed off. Bo kind of hoped it was a little of both. His thoughts turned to how he was going to explain this whole mess to Hope in the morning. Preferably it would be in a way that would not have him sleeping on the couch for the next month. Just before he drifted off into sleep, he decided to blame the whole thing on John.

John studied the peaceful man spread out over the long sofa and wondered at the cause of the slight grin he saw on his face. He watched without moving until Bo’s chest rose and fell in untroubled slumber. Grateful for his presence. Irritated with his intrusion. With a sigh of his own, he finally turned back to the waning fire, wondering if all little brothers were such a pain in the ass.

-----

They were finally going to allow her to see Dimera. She couldn’t believe the sense of relief she felt at the thought. But after three days of isolation, relieved only by the brief glimpses of her children she was granted at mealtimes, she desperately needed contact with another human being. Dimera qualified, barely. And though she hated to admit it, he had knowledge of a side of John she had avoided seeing. He would know how John would react. He might even know the cause of this very dangerous game in which she had suddenly found herself a player.

Alamain wanted something from her. She could see it in his eyes, every day as they sat across the table from each other in the cavernous dining room. And every day, she could see the need growing stronger. He used her children against her. They were pawns that he shuffled around the board, forcing her into situations where she would have to abide his presence. The only time she was allowed to see them was when she came down to eat. Always, he would be awaiting her arrival, rising from the table to greet her with courtly grace. Each time he touched her, it was all that she could do not to let the revulsion show on her face. She would rather starve than endure his touch, but she would do anything to see her children. He was using that. She knew he was doing it. There was simply nothing she could do to resist.

The click of the lock startled her, and she rose hurriedly to her feet, trying to prevent her desperation from showing on her face. She had to see Stefano. She needed to understand what was happening to her. She needed to know so that she could plan.

Soundlessly, she followed the servant down the hallway, unable to prevent a wistful glance at the door beside her. She knew that the girls were housed there. Had watched as they were locked away each day after meals. At least they were together. Had each other to lean on. Eric was alone, locked in the room across the hall. The strain was showing on them all, but Eric most of all. She could see the tension in his face, the way his jaw clenched with barely suppressed anger. She had to get them out of this place before someone broke and Mikos’ thin veneer of civility was stripped away to reveal the monster she knew lurked beneath.

Lost in her thoughts, she was startled when the servant stopped at a door at the end of the long hallway. Pulling a heavy keyring from his waist, he unlocked the door and motioned her inside.

“Thank you, Ivan,” she said softly, watching as the man flushed at her words. He seemed extemely uncomfortable with his role as jailer and Marlena thought it wise to establish whatever connection she could with the man.

“Madam,” he replied with a nod, gesturing her into the room.

She was unsurprised to hear the click of the lock behind her. For a moment, she simply stood in the doorway, peering through the shadows that blanketed the large bedroom. A small table-lamp was the only source of light and its soft glow revealed the heavy form of Dimera stretched out beneath a thick blanket.

“Marlena. It is an even greater pleasure than usual to see you. May I say, you look as lovely as ever, even in these trying circumstances,” his deep voice intoned, black eyes shining brightly in the glow of the lamp.

“Every time I see you, it is a trying circumstance,” she replied with the ghost of smile. Her tone lacked its usual vehemence when dealing with Stefano, and she wryly thought to herself ‘Better the devil you know’.

Chuckling, Stefano turned his head to face her. “I see your present captivity has not improved your manners any,” he replied with a small smile of his own.

Gracefully, she walked to the side of the bed. White bandages wrapped his head, but his eyes seemed clear and focused and she resisted the temptation to examine the wound. “You are looking much better than the last time I saw you,” she commented.

“I feel much better, though I must admit, I remember very little of the time between the explosion and when I woke up in this well appointed cell,” he replied with a slight nod.

“Take my word for it, you didn’t miss much,” was her dry response.

“I’m rather surprised I’m here at all. I seem to distinctly recall being carried out over very rough terrain. I would have thought you would relish the opportunity to simply leave me in the woods,” he prodded, giving her a curious look.

She merely shrugged. “The decision wasn’t mine to make. John carried you out. He was rather insistent about it.”

“Of course,” Stefano said, the look of pride flashing across his face in a way that irritated her to no end. “I suppose that if it had been left to you, I would no doubt be nourishing the worms by now,” he finished with just a touch of sarcasm.

With a sigh, Marlena crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Stefano, I know that John cares for you. In some twisted way, he feels that he owes you. I won’t begrudge him that. But if it is up to me, you will never be a part of our lives in any way, shape or form.”

Again his grim chuckle floated through the air. “Well it appears that the fates disagree, Marlena. It seems that once again our paths are linked, and this time not even you can believe that I am to blame.”

She hated it when he was right, and he was right so often. With a slight shake of her head, she turned her thoughts away from her continuing battle with Dimera. In a quiet voice, she asked “What will he do?”

“Who? John?” Stefano answered, his eyes widening in surprise at the question. “Isn’t it obvious? He will find us and he will kill Mikos Alamain. In fact, I’d say it is likely that he will kill everyone even remotely associated with the man. Really, Marlena! I had thought you’d stopped deluding yourself when it came to recognizing what John is capable of!”

She closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness ran through her.

“Marlena? Marlena, are you all right?” Dimera’s voice called to her, sounding as if it came from very far away. She was aware of his hand grabbing her own, and she jerked away to stumble backward, her eyes flying open to find him staring at her.

Concerned, Stefano studied her pale face. “Marlena, do you feel well? Will you sit down? Please?” he said, gesturing to a chair set at the opposite side of the bed.

Unsteadily she walked over and allowed herself to sink down on the thickly cushioned chair. “I’m sorry,” she said distractedly. “I’m just tired. I haven’t been able to sleep much...” she trailed off.

“Marlena, you really shouldn’t concern yourself. John knows his business. He will find us and he will come,” Stefano said gently, worried by the paleness of her features.

Unexpected tears threatened, and she muttered softly, “I don’t want him to come. Something bad will happen if he does. I know it, Stefano. I can feel it in my bones,” she said, her tone becoming hard and desperate as she raised her head to fasten haunted eyes on him.

An ugly thought flashed through Dimera’s head and he asked sharply, “Alamain hasn’t done anything to you, has he? He hasn’t touched you?”

The sudden protectiveness from Stefano of all people forced a half-hearted laugh from her. “No. No, he hasn’t done anything to me, Stefano. I just.... When I look at him, I am so afraid. I’m afraid for John. Afraid for my children. Myself...” again her voice faded out, and she rubbed her hands briskly against her arms as if fighting a sudden chill.

“Marlena, you are being silly now. John is the only man on this planet who could make me back down. I am rather insulted that you don’t think him capable of handling some puffed-up royalty wannabe,” Stefano said almost haughtily, trying to prod her out of her black thoughts.

Her eyes seemed to darken and she looked directly into Dimera’s face. “I have hated you for years, Stefano. I’ve hated you and I’ve feared you, and nothing will ever change that. Nothing will ever change the evil you have done to the people I love. But Alamain.... Stefano, I look at him and I feel ‘unclean’.”

Her eyes shifted to stare down at the plush carpet beneath her. “You play games, Stefano,” she continued softly. “You play games with peoples’ lives, and I hate that. But you would never force.... I never thought you would force me to do anything. Mikos Alamain would use force, Stefano. He would enjoy it.”

He could feel the anger growing with every word she spoke. John would have to hurry or Stefano would kill the bastard himself. Trying to keep his voice calm, he said gently, “Marlena, John will be here soon. There is nothing you need to worry about. Stay away from the man and wait for John.”

Angrily, Marlena shook her head and again raised her eyes to fasten on his. “No! You don’t understand. Mikos enjoys hurting people. He gets pleasure from it. He knows John will come. He’s counting on it! When John comes, Mikos will use me against him in a way you never would. He will use me to destroy him and he will enjoy it!”

Her eyes still glistened with unshed tears, but anger warred with the fear. Anger won. “Stefano, we have to stop him. We have to stop him before John gets here.”

Once again, Stefano was reminded just how strong this woman could be when those she loved were threatened. Involuntarily, his hand moved to rub against the faded scar of a bullet wound. “What do you suggest we do?” he asked quietly.

It was a question to which she held no answers, as her frustrated sigh gave signal to. Shaking her head, she searched for a solution. “I don’t know. Have you any idea why this man is so fixated on John?” she asked, glad to be focusing on something other than the fear.

“It’s not ‘company’ business, if that’s what you mean. I’ve never even heard of this Alamain fellow. He has dropped in to chat with me during my convalescence, but he has yet to explain the point of this little exercise. However,” he continued, giving Marlena a questioning look, “I would think that you would have noted the same resemblance that I do. It is rather striking, after all.”

She hadn’t wanted to pursue this, but if Stefano saw it too, it could no longer be ignored. “They are family, aren’t they?” she said softly.

“At a guess, I would say brothers. The resemblance is quite strong,” Stefano confirmed with a nod.

“Why would he want to destroy his own brother? Stefano, it can’t be,” she whispered softly.

“Of course it can,” was the stoic response. “It’s a story as old as time.”

The black stretch limo pulled smoothly to a halt 15 feet from the edge of the cliff. The chauffeur remained at the wheel with the engine running as three bodyguards emerged to take up their stations at the front and rear fenders. From behind mirrored shades, they stared across the rocky ground separating them from the two Mercedes that faced them. In silence, the men who had hunched together smoking cigarettes spread out from the Mercedes to form a rough line 20 feet away. The first fat drops of rain fell from the overcast skies as thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. As the tension rose, fingers fumbled nervously over weapons scarcely hidden by thick overcoats. When Jensen finally crawled from the far door of the Limo, all pretense vanished and automatic weapons were raised cautiously to the ready.

Adjusting the blue silk tie at his neck, Jensen peered over the roof of the limo at the men arrayed against him. The two black Mercedes squatted aggressively, their headlights glowing dimly in the early morning mist. Seven men in dark suits faced him, weapons in hand and faces expressionless. ‘This is all just too cliche,’ he thought in annoyance, hating the necessity of being in the field. With an aggravated sigh, he reached into the backseat and pulled at the arm of the man who was the focus of all of the intrigue.

A figure stumbled into view behind the long body of the limo, and it became evident that he was bound and hooded. For a moment, he shrugged off the hands that grabbed at him. Then a fourth guard exited the backseat, and the man was dragged to the front of the car and slammed across the hood. Tiredly, the figure slumped down, the man resting his head against the warm metal. Without preamble, Jensen reached down and ripped the black hood away from the bound man’s face. Linking a hand in the long hair, he pulled John’s head back to face the men in front of the Mercedes.

“We kept our part of the bargain!” he shouted across the distance. “It’s time for you to keep yours. If you don’t want more trouble than you can handle, you will deliver Mr. Dimera to us unharmed.”

From the center of the line of men in front of the Mercedes, a tall blond man stepped forward. His short hair was almost white, and his thick body spoke of a brutal physical power. If the sneer on his face was any indication, Jensen’s threat didn’t worry him in the least. “You will get Dimera once Mr. Black there has been delivered to our employer and not before. That was the deal. Take it or leave it,” he called back in a cold voice. At his words, the men behind him raised their guns a fraction.

Trying to restrain his temper, Jensen pulled John roughly to his feet and shoved him forward. Seemingly disoriented, John stumbled to his knees. As Jensen and the bodyguard reached to pull him up, he lurched to his feet, ramming a shoulder into Jensen’s midsection. The two men slammed against the front fender in a tangle and then the bodyguard had John by his knees, bringing him to the ground.

At the first sign of struggle, the big blond man had stepped swiftly forward only to be confronted by the steady guns of Dimera’s men. He relaxed marginally once the bodyguard pulled John back into view, one thick arm wrapped tightly around the man’s neck. Jensen slowly lurched to his feet, anger plain on his face. Stepping to John, he unleashed a vicious slap that rocked the man’s head to the side. “It’s about time you got yours. I will never understand why Dimera has tolerated you all of these years, but that is at an end,” he spat out, his words carrying clearly in the still air.

Blood trickling from the side of his mouth, John turned back with an ugly grin. Taking a deep breath, he spat straight in Jensen’s face and brought his foot down hard against the bodyguard’s instep. As the hold about his neck slackened, he stepped forward to jam a knee into Jensen’s gut. With a muttered curse, Jensen crumpled and John stepped back, the light of battle in his eyes.

Sensing the loss of his quarry, the blond man stepped forward despite the machine guns still facing him. The blond moved just as Jensen’s bodyguard jabbed a fist into John’s unprotected back, sending him stumbling toward the cliff’s edge. He stepped to wrap thick arms around the still bound man and was dropped by a kick to the head, falling soundlessly to the ground.

The blond charged around the front of the limo heedless of everything but the need to take John down. John stepped forward to meet him with a grin, looking ready to take on death itself. He was going to get his chance. Helpless to prevent the disaster he could see happening, the blond could only scream out in frustration.

“Noooo...” the protest echoed over the rocky terrain as shots cracked out thinly in the air. Grim-faced, Jensen knelt, his gun aimed directly at John’s chest. Carefully, he pulled the trigger again and then again. Watched, as the impact staggered the man. Three hits, dead center. John’s body fell back, blood welling from his chest. For an instance, he glanced up, searching for Jensen’s face. His eyes were almost amused as he toppled from the 300 foot cliff.

“You stupid son of a bitch,” the blond screamed, rounding on Jensen’s crouched form. Though beside himself with anger, the fear of failure was even stronger.

Coldly, Jensen shrugged. Pulling a kerchief from his pocket, he dabbed fastidiously at the spittle on his cheek. “You wanted John Black? Well get a boat, the body has got to be down there somewhere. Now, I have had enough of your threats. I want Mr. Dimera back immediately. I was willing to give you Black because, quite-frankly, the man was more trouble than he was worth. But the Dimera cartel is done bargaining. Why don’t you tell ‘Mr. Alamain’ that we know who he is and we know where he lives. We will be coming for him if Mr. Dimera does not contact us with other instructions. That is really all I need to say to you.” Flashing a superior look, Jensen marched back to the limo. Settling back into the seat, he could not quite repress a self-satisfied grin as his men joined him.

“Sir, you almost looked like you enjoyed shooting Mr. Black.”

As the limo backed carefully away, Jensen permitted himself a small chuckle. “Who says I didn’t?”

The limousine disappeared over the hill, the blond watching it until it was out of sight. Muttering a curse in Russian, he edged to the side of the cliff and searched for any hint of a body. A broken wall of rock dropped straight down 300 feet, its base ringed by jutting boulders. The rough seas slammed against the jagged rocks, sending plumes of white spray shooting into the air. He could discern nothing in that seething mass, and the sheer height made him sway dizzily.

“We’ve got a couple of blood splatters here, sir,” a voice called out.

Shaking his head to clear it, he stalked irritably over to crouch beside the indicated area. Cautiously, he reached out a finger to dab at the already drying stains, black droplets that stood in stark contrast to the pale rocks. With a grunt of frustration he stood, wiping his fingers distastefully on his jacket. “Let’s get out of here,” he ordered gruffly as he started to the cars. He slammed the door behind him, already wondering where he could find a boat in this godforsaken place. 

-----

Mikos was furious. She had thought him irritated when he had been called away from breakfast in order to take the phone call. But on his return, the man was absolutely livid. She sat quietly at the table, trying not to draw the notice of the enraged man as he stalked to the table and slammed meaty fists into its polished surface. His shoulders heaved with his ragged breathing and a sudden swat of his hand sent a set of centuries old china smashing to the floor. As if the brittle sound awoke him to his surroundings his head snapped up to focus red-rimmed eyes on the face of his favorite captive.

“You thought I was no match for him, did you?” he hissed out, an ugly sneer on his face. “You thought he would come riding in to save you from me?! You were wrong, my lady,” he said, his voice rising to an almost shout. With one long stride he was beside her, wrenching her out of her seat with an iron grip around her upper arm.

Sudden fear flashed through her and with a sharp jerk Marlena tried to rip free of the man. Her struggles drew harsh laughter and he gave her a rough shake that snapped her head back and made her dizzy. Her knees felt suddenly weak as he pulled her tight against his chest, wrapping his free hand in her hair and wrenching back until she had no choice but to face him.

His face hovered above her own, staring down at her with eyes clouded by anger and fury and something more. For an instance he simply stared, and then his lips crushed against hers in a sudden attack. She tried to flinch away but he held her firm, bending her backwards until she thought her bones would break. With a muffled sob her right hand flew upwards to slam against his face without effect. Then a hoarse scream sounded and Mikos collapsed suddenly to the ground as she staggered free.

“You son of a bitch!” Eric yelled, his voice tight with fear and anger as he stepped back to unleash another kick, this time at the big man’s head. The blow behind the knee that had dropped the man in the first place singing through his veins like a drug, he wanted nothing more than to hit him until he couldn’t get up. No one would touch his mother like that. Ever.

The fury made him strong, but not strong enough. His slender frame lacked the mass to do damage to the giant before him, and strong hands reached out to easily block the blow. With a hard yank Eric crashed to the floor, the breath exploding from his lungs in a painful gasp. Teeth bared, Mikos drove himself to his feet and ripped Eric’s limp form up to dangle in his grip.

“You need a lesson in manners, boy,” he ground out, his open hand crashing into the right side of the young man’s face to send him tumbling once again to the ground.

“Mikos don’t!” a voice called fearfully as he stepped forward to ram the toe of his shoe into the pit of the boy’s stomach. The retching sounds at his feet brought a smile to his face and he could only wish that the boy had been his brother’s son as he moved to kick the moaning form again. At the frantic tug on his forearm he casually turned with his hand upraised, suddenly enjoying this little exercise in discipline.

“Mikos, stop. Please stop! I will do whatever you want, just stop this,” she pleaded, her hands linking themselves around his arm in a grip he found he could not break. A grip he wasn’t certain he wanted to break.

Her eyes stared up at him, wide with fear. He had thought her incredible when she was angry, but fear was an improvement even over that. Her eyes shone, golden flecks dancing in amber pools. The glowed up at him, begging, pleading, yearning. It was intoxicating. A smile lit his face and he leaned down to brush his lips across her cheek, the slight flinch at the gentle contact causing his groin to tighten.

Straightening slowly he nodded down to Eric’s groaning body, his sisters now at his side looking fearfully up at the madman in their midst. “Are you certain the boy is yours?” Mikos asked with a slight chuckle. “He evidences none of your persuasive abilities Marlena.”

Ignoring him, she started toward Eric, her only thoughts on her son. With a sharp yank, Mikos reached out and pulled her back. “I will have him taken to his room, Marlena. Really, you spoil the boy fussing over him so.”

She spun angrily around, her eyes flashing and he greeted her with a look of warning. “I had thought we were done with our lessons in manners for the day, Marlena. I hope I wasn’t mistaken?” he asked almost gently.

A tremor ran through her body, and it was everything that she could do not to launch herself at the smug face. Instead, she took a deep breath and tried to keep the anger from her voice. “Mikos, please. He’s hurt. At least let him stay in my room where I can check on him. Mikos, something could have been broken,” she finally pleaded, the desperation overtaking the anger.

Appearing to consider her words, he raised a hand to rub idly at his chin. “Well… Because you ask so nicely, Marlena, I will allow him to be taken to his sisters’ room. The boy isn’t hurt, but this is my little gift to you,” he said with a courtly nod.

She simply stared at him, her hatred like a living thing. A man who would use children to get his own way…

“An expression of gratitude is usually customary when one is given a gift,” Mikos chided with a hurt expression as at his signal servants moved forward to pull the groaning boy to his feet.

Her hands clenched involuntarily, and in a dead voice she replied, “Thank you, Mikos.”

Turning to follow her children, she could not help but think of John. God, she feared his coming. She feared the damage that this man would do to him. But in her heart of hearts she wished that he were here. For once she wished for a glimpse of the violence and death that she knew lurked within the man she loved.

“Oh. A moment,” Mikos said, his words halting her in her tracks at the foot of the stairs. Her face carefully blank, she turned to look back at him.

“I had forgotten what I came here to tell you, Marlena,” he continued mildly, studying her with that look of amused condescension. “I thought you might like to know about my phone call. It was one of my men, calling to report that John Black is dead.”

The words refused to register. She could see his lips moving. See the cruel smile in his eyes. But he spoke in a foreign tongue. Words she couldn’t understand. Words she couldn’t accept.

“No,” she whispered hoarsely. “John is not dead. He isn’t. I would know.”

Her words rang hollow, lost in the vastness of a world gone suddenly grey. Numbly she stood, her life disintegrating around her. Her soul dying. She stood in the eye of the storm, slowly collapsing in on herself as her very being was striped away. She stood until all that was left was a single cold hard certainty. Pain crept across the surface of eyes that had gone dead. Pain and pride. Her back straightened and she held her head high as she stared into the gloating face before her. Her words were hard and brittle, matching the ice that surged through her veins. “John is not dead. You did not kill him. You could not. You aren’t man enough.”

With stilted steps, she turned and went to her children, staring wide-eyed from the landing above.

Vivian stood beside the antique bureau, absently rubbing her fingers across the age-stained file. Surprised at the depth of loss she felt for one she had hardly known, she swiped at the tears that trickled down her face. It was well that she hadn’t allowed her emotions to surface in front of Mikos. The man was unstable. She had known it for years. But the anger he had shown at the news of his brother’s death still shook her. She had watched his torture of the woman and her children. Had seen the anger and known better than to become involved. When Mikos was in a mood, there was no one who could stop him.

A shiver ran through her at the sickness that was her nephew. She knew that the anger was not over the death of his brother. It was an anger born out of his twisted need to dominate. His need to look into his brother’s eyes as he destroyed him.

Gods! Vivian had failed to realize how she had come to count on Alexander’s return. Finally, she had found the chance to rid herself of the ever present threat her nephew represented. She was tired of living in fear, always awaiting the moment when she would say the wrong thing. Give the wrong look. Set Mikos off on a rampage. Every night when she went to bed, there was always the tiny fear that this would be the night a dark figure would slip through her door, knife held at the ready. Mikos was capable of it. Had done it before for some perceived slight. No one around the man was safe from his paranoia. She had hoped that Alexi would change that.

With a resigned sigh, she looked at the yellowed sheets of paper beneath her hand. The faded medical reports she had held for years, too afraid to use herself. Evidence of the one thing that Mikos most feared. Evidence that Mikos was not the heir.

For a brief moment, she considered bringing the truth to light. Turning the papers over to a lawyer, someone far removed from the intrigues of the Alamain court. It would be her death sentence and she knew it.

Alexander might have been strong enough to stand against Mikos. She was not. And now, her only hope of escaping the grasping clutches of a madman lay dead. With a sharp shake of her head, she dismissed what might have been. Gingerly, she folded the faded sheets of paper and tucked them back into the concealed draw at the bottom of the desk. Closing the drawer with finality, she turned her thoughts in a new direction. An intriguing direction. She might not be strong enough to stand against Mikos, but there was still one who might be. A calculating smile crept across her face, and she wondered what Stefano Dimera was doing.

“Dimera, your men just made a mistake. Possibly a fatal one,” Mikos said, barging into the room without bothering to knock.

Looking up from the chair in which he sat drinking his morning coffee, Stefano merely raised a brow. “My men don’t make mistakes, Mikos. They know better.” Gathering the folds of his dressing gown about him, Stefano settled comfortably back in his seat.

Irritated, Mikos pulled to a stop before the self-possessed figure in front of him. The woman, he could handle. Her children made her weak, and beyond that… Well, she ‘was’ merely a woman. Dimera however made him uneasy, despite his placid demeanor. For once, Mikos was uncertain how to respond. “Well they made a mistake this time. John Black is dead. I wanted that man delivered to me and your goon squad couldn’t even do that without fouling it up. Now all I have is a missing body and no good reason for letting you live,” he grated threateningly, intent on wiping that superior look off of Dimera’s face.

Stefano went cold, his eyes narrowing dangerously. For an instance, Alamain caught a glimpse of the man responsible for deaths too numerous to count. Then Stefano smiled tightly, and the spell was broken.

“John is dead?”

“His body is at the bottom of a cliff. The flaw in that scenario is that I wanted his body here!” Mikos snapped out, attempting to assert his dominance over this encounter.

Turning his attention back to his coffee, Stefano muttered distractedly, “Yes, it does appear that you have a problem. Why do you bring it to me?”

The man was infuriating! Mikos wanted to step forward and smash him into the ground. Smash him until he learned to show respect to his superiors. Condescension from a mere thug was worthy of nothing less than death. But deep beneath the bravado, a tiny voice warned caution. Unacknowledged fear whispered that to kill Dimera would be to invite a war he might not win. For now, Dimera would have to be handled with kid gloves.

Forcing his breathing to slow, Mikos said more calmly, “This problem is your problem, Dimera. At the moment, I have no reason to set you free. No reason at all.”

“Don’t be stupid! We both know what will happen if you lay so much as a finger on me. I have an army of men searching for me as we speak. They will burn your businesses, they will loot your companies, they will cut down your associates. And Mikos, one day soon, they will find you. All it will take is a single bullet, and your entire empire will crumble.”

The man sat there completely at ease, his eyes glinting coldly. His words were said not as a threat but as a statement of fact. This was not how Mikos had envisioned this conversation going.

“Perhaps something might be worked out,” Mikos said smoothly, struggling to keep his distaste from his voice. “After all, we are both businessmen.”

“Something has already been worked out,” Dimera replied, glancing down to inspect a ragged nail that appeared to have caught his attention. “You will let us all go. After you have done that, you will offer me an apology and hope that I have the good grace to accept. That is what has been ‘worked out’, Mikos.”

His anger flaring, Mikos virtually growled out a threat. “Or I could simply kill you and take my chances with your army. After all, I do not think they will waste their time avenging your death while they could be busy making money.”

Blandly, Stefano glanced up. “Yes, you could do that.”

For a moment, Mikos merely stood glaring. Finally, he slipped a hand into his jacket and pulled out a cell phone. Almost grudgingly, he set it on the table next to the cup and saucer. “Your men appear to becoming impatient with your extended absence. I want you to call them and warn them of the consequences of doing anything… rash.”

“Why on earth would I do that?” Stefano asked, his tone indicating that he thought he was addressing an imbecile.

“No one is leaving here until I am certain that John Black is dead. Once that is confirmed, you will of course be free to go. I would hate for any unpleasantness to occur before a peaceful resolution is achieved. It is even possible that we may find cause to do business together in the future, Stefano. Make the call. A day or two more or less can make little difference at this point,” Mikos explained smoothly, abandoning the attempt to use threats to attain his goal. He would settle accounts with this pompous peasant eventually, but now was not the time for a war.

The temptation to deny the man was strong. Only a fool would willingly choose to do battle with the Dimera cartel, and Mikos was not a fool. Insane perhaps, but not a fool. But there was a desperation in the man’s eyes. A glimmer of need that seemed oddly familiar. There was something that Alamain wanted badly enough to fight for. To press the man now would be dangerous. Besides, there was a truth that Dimera had to know. With a slow nod of his head, Stefano reached for the phone.

“One day, Mikos. I will give you one day to recover the body. After that, I will leave or you will be a dead man. Now, what is the contact number?”

Jensen’s familiar voice rang in his ear, explaining the events of the day. Describing the scene at the cliff. Asking for direction. The words droned on, and the possibility of John’s death became a probability. A certainty. An impossibility and a numbness. Hollowly, he gave the order to stand down, to wait for instructions. Even as he spoke, Dimera began to plan the method of Alamain’s destruction. The means of his death. It would most definitely involve a knife. Finally, there was nothing left to say, yet still he clutched the phone to his ear. Closing eyes that had suddenly seemed to have seen too much, he gave in to his weakness. His voice dropped, and he asked softly, “Jensen. Are you certain about John?”

The words rang out clearly over the lines. “I’m certain, sir. Three shots in the chest, dead center. The phoenix is dead, there is no doubt.”

Without another word, Stefano cut the line and tossed the phone to Mikos, who stood impatiently waiting.

“You have twenty-four hours,” Stefano said shortly. “Now, get out.”

Tilting his head back to rest against the cushions of the chair, Dimera closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift. He heard the click of the lock and allowed the words to flow through his mind. ‘The phoenix is dead...’ Ever so slowly, a broad smile crept across his face.

Bo clung tightly to the rock wall, not risking the sound of a drawn breath. Every muscle in his body was cramping, but he held rigidly still awaiting the all clear signal. Finally, the tingle of the pager shivered silently against his skin and he allowed himself to exhale. Only then did he looked worriedly down into the face of the unconscious man he held in his grip.

“John! Hey John! Come on, nap time is over,” he said sharply, shaking the man’s limp body. Dammit, this was never going to work! Trying not to get careless in his need for haste, he reached to fasten John’s harness securely to a crampon wedged deeply into the rock wall. His hands finally free, he unzipped John’s bloody leather jacket. Three holes showed plainly through the material, and torn blood packets hung limply from where they were fastened to his tee shirt. Quickly Bo ripped open the velcro fastenings and reached behind the heavy vest to search for any sign that a bullet had penetrated. Finally, he sighed in relief and withdrew his hand. Grabbing the key that hung from his belt he shifted the limp form until he could reach the steel cuffs that imprisoned the man’s hands. A twist of the wrist and the shackles fell away. Worried that the man showed no signs of returning consciousness, Bo gave the body a firm shake. They didn’t have time to waste.

“Come on John, stop slacking on me,” he muttered, resorting to slapping at the pale face lightly with one hand as the other moved to rummage in his hip pouch. He pulled out a slender tube and held it below John’s nose, looking away as he popped the glass vial in two. Harsh chemicals assailed him and he dropped the vial into the distant ocean as John started to choke.

John’s hands moved to clutch at his chest as his eyes blinked blearily open to find Bo staring down at him. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Bo sang out in a falsetto, grinning wickedly in order to hide his relief.

With a groan of pain, John coughed harshly and dropped his head, trying in vain to curl his body up into a ball. “What the hell hit me?”

“Near as I can tell, three bullets and the side of a cliff. It appears your plan is off to a brilliant start,” Bo answered, thinking to himself that John didn’t look so self-righteously cocky right now.

“Try and contain your concern for my injuries,” John muttered, the effort of drawing breath into his bruised chest still taking a conscious act of will.

“Hey! I told you that if you jumped off a cliff and fell 30 feet down a rip line it would hurt. But did you listen to me? Nooo… God forbid you ever take my advice!”

“Jeesh, Bo! Give me a break. I fell off a damn cliff!” John snorted, grimacing with the effort of holding his head up.

“Batman never complains.”

For a second, John merely stared at him in disgust. “Thank you. That was a tremendous help. Thank you so much!”

“Anytime,” Bo offered, cackling slightly. “So? You ready to get the hell out of here?”

John sucked in another deep breath and let it out slowly. Nodding, he motioned for the rope. “Yea, I’m ready. I just need to go slow,” he commented, snaking the nylon rope through the straps on the front of his harness. Finally secured, he released himself from the tie-off and nodded up at Bo. With the slice of a knife, the rope at his back was cut away and he began to slowly work his way down the side of the cliff.

“Was it really necessary to shoot me three times, Jensen?” John asked, his words slurring as the sedatives started to take effect.

Jensen glanced over to where John lay, stretched out on the couch. Bundled in a thick terrycloth robe, a hot water bottle clutched tightly to his chest, he lacked his usual sense of menace. Puffing thoughtfully on a cigar, Jensen took a pull on his brandy before replying. “Well, no. I couldn’t honestly say three shots were necessary. I do believe those last two bullets were done for the sheer pleasure of the act.”

John allowed his head to loll to the side and studied the two men who shared the room with him. Jensen lounged in the wingback chair beside the fire, nonchalantly examining the glowing tip of the cigar. In his pinstriped suit and button-down shirt, he looked like a banker taking a break from a stockholder’s meeting.

Bo was his antithesis. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of Dimera’s big oak desk, he wrapped his bare arms around jean clad legs and grinned down at the proceedings like some deranged clown. “Christ, I am so screwed,” John muttered weakly, closing his tired eyes.

“Not very grateful, is he,” Bo noted to Jensen from his perch.

“No. No he’s not. Just one of many character flaws, let me assure you.”

“Oh, I know all about his flaws,” Bo replied in an airy tone. “You should try having him as a big brother sometime. I’m just jealous you were the one who got to shoot him!”

“I am still in the room, you know,” John muttered from behind closed eyelids.

“A fact for which you have yet to thank either of us,” Jensen replied, raising an aristocratic eyebrow. “If I had aimed six inches higher, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. And you were very lucky I was able to attach the rip-line. Your struggles behind the limo were realistic enough to make it difficult, to say the least. Especial given the fact that my eyes were still watering from a knee to the groin.”

For a moment, Jensen simply stared contemplatively into his glass. “You know, now that I consider it, I would think you would be grateful I ‘only’ shot you three times!”

With a soft sigh, John rubbed gently at his bruised chest. “Fine. I am so sorry for my crassness. You are both the flower of manhood. I kneel in awe in your presence and beg that you accept my humble thanks,” he drawled out, his words running together as he began to lose his grip on consciousness.

For a moment, the two men simply sat and watched his still form.

“Sarcasm. That’s another one of his flaws,” Bo finally noted from his perch on the desk.

“We could make a list?” Jensen suggested.

“Mmm… I doubt there’s enough paper in the house,” Bo replied, casting an eye at John to see if he was still awake.

The minutes ticked past, and John’s breathing gradually deepened as he slowly faded away. Finally, Bo swung sore legs over the side of the table. Nodding at Jensen, he said in a serious tone, “I want you to keep him sedated for a while. Let him get some sleep. I don’t think he’s had any for days.”

With a shrug, Jensen agreed. “For now, I’ll see to it. But as soon as word comes in about Alamain’s hideaway, I’ll have to wake him. He wouldn’t tolerate anything else, and I won’t go against his wishes.” The words were polite, but they carried a steel edge.

“Fair enough,” Bo replied, studying Jensen with a newfound respect. Glancing away, he asked more softly, “Do you think this is going to work? Will they release them now that they think John is dead?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I guess we’ll know tomorrow once Stefano calls back. But.... We have Alamain’s men under surveillance. We know every word they say. Every place they go. We will find them, of that you should have no doubt.”

With a slight nod, Bo raised his head, his face suddenly cold. “Good,” he stated flatly, the single word a threat of violence to come.

A quick shake of his dark head, and he again buried the anger and fear. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he continued in a normal tone, “Now, I’ve got some personal calls to make. I’d just as soon do it in here so I can keep an eye on him, if you don’t mind?”

“No sir, not at all, Mr. Brady,” Jensen said graciously, rising smoothly to his feet. “Mr. Black made it very clear. All of the services of the Dimera organization are at your disposal. Let me know if you require anything, and I will inform you as soon as there is any word.”

Watching Jensen’s retreating back, Bo wondered why the offer made him feel so creepy. Settling down in the desk chair, he started to reach for the phone. His eyes were drawn to a pad of stationary, and he involuntarily ran a thumb over the familiar image. Dimera Industries, the words depicted in shiny black lettering. Beside the words, the symbol- the phoenix rising, screaming its defiance to the heavens. His hands rubbed nervously at the smooth wood of the table top and it hit him that everything and everyone around him belonged to Stefano Dimera. Suddenly needing very badly to hear Hope’s voice, he reached for the phone.

He floats in darkness, drifting just below the surface of consciousness. Dimly, he hears Jensen and Bo, bantering back and forth. When the ever present rage dies down enough that he can think clearly, he recognizes what they are trying to do. Hell, he even manages to appreciate it. The words are starting to fade away, and he fights against their loss. The words are the only thing that keep back the visions he can sense creeping around in the recesses of his mind. It’s a fight he can’t win, and the drugs take him deeper into the void. He sinks into a stupor, the images flashing by, and all he sees is pain and blood and death. But the drugs are a blessing, and they pull him down, dragging him away from the memories of his life. His love. His loss. Dragging him down until there is nothing but the dark. Nothing but the void. He has an instance to wonder if this is what death feels like. An instance to be grateful. Then even that is gone, and he drifts along in peace. 

-----

He was a liar. He was the king of liars. He would say anything to hurt her. Anything to make her give up hope. Nothing he said could be believed. Marlena knew all that and more. It still didn’t ease the tight knot of dread that made her stomach cramp and her mind to go numb with fear.

Her thoughts raced, flitting from memory to memory in a desperate attempt to avoid the possibility of John’s death.

Mikos had been angry. Murderously angry. And Mikos had wanted John brought to him alive. He would have been angered by John’s death. It could be true, if it wasn’t impossible.

John gone. It ‘was’ impossible and her thoughts shifted back to Mikos. How he had nearly salivated over the thought of having John brought before him on his knees, as if somehow it would prove that he was the better man. Marlena had no idea the cause of the rivalry, but it had become painfully clear to her that Mikos wanted to humble John almost as badly as he wanted to posses her. And he did want to posses her, of that she was now certain.

Her hand rose to scrub at her tender lips, as if she could rub hard enough to erase the memory of his flesh pressed against hers. God, she had sensed it from the moment she had seen him. The way his eyes had followed her every move, hungry for the sight of her. She had ignored it. Pushed it from her mind. But the scene at breakfast had left no doubt. The man had wanted her. Wanted her in a way that made her skin crawl. She had thought herself a tool in the sick game Alamain insisted on playing with John. Now she recognized that she had become the prize.

Mikos would not win. She would not let him. John would not let him. A shiver ran through her at the memory of the man’s anger. The psychotic rage she had watched him display could easily have been the result of losing his chance to show his brother who was the better man. The chance to show her who was better. Again her mind shied from the thought of John, his body lying cold and lifeless in some dark alley, some abandoned building. Life without him was unthinkable and she refused to acknowledge even the chance that it could be true.

Wrapping her hands around her stomach, she rose and paced the room. Her posture was hunched, her step, faltering. Yet her body was a mere reflection of the agony that flickered through her mind. A dark serpent, worming its way into her every train of thought. A serpent whose whispered lies she tried desperately to avoid.

Her thoughts fled down the long corridors of her mind.

Eric. Eric was hurt. She should be with him, yet Mikos would not allow it. An added torture, as if the loss of the man she loved was not enough.

The loss of the man she loved. John’s death. John was dead. The words screamed from within the deepest recess of her mind. Unavoidable. Unalterable.

Doubling over, she ran awkwardly to the bathroom. The cramps seemed to come from the core of her soul, forcing the breath from her body. She shook uncontrollably as she retched up the meager remains of the breakfast that she had managed to force down. For long moments it was all she could do to hold herself upright as she gasped for air between the bouts of violent cramps. Finally, tears streaming down her face, she allowed her body to collapse.

Spent and aching, she dropped her head to the cool tiles of the floor. Curling into a small tight ball, she tried to make herself numb. Shut herself down. Shut herself off. Mikos’ voice would not be denied. The look in his eyes as he watched her. The touch of his lips that still burned against her flesh. And above it all, his voice. His voice telling her that John was dead. His voice haunted her, even now that she was alone. Especially now that she was alone.

Alone. John had promised her she would never be alone. He had promised to always be with her. To always protect her. With a raw sob, she turned to him. Held him to his promise. Begged for him to take her away from this place. And as he always had been, he was there for her.

“Mmm..." his deep voice whispers seductively in her ear as strong arms wrapped around her waist. “What is the most beautiful woman in the world doing in front of a stove?”

Pulling her close, he presses a gentle kiss to her lips. “You’ll never have to find out. I’m here to stay, pretty lady. That’s a fact!”

Laying on the cold floor of the bathroom, Marlena gave a low moan, her hands wrapping protectively around her abdomen. Tears stained her face as she softly called his name. Knowing that he would hear. Knowing that he would come. Knowing that none of this was over yet.

The gelding reared as the quirt bit deeply into its flank. Mikos sawed hard on the reins, forcing the big animal over the four-foot jump despite its reluctance. He rode the beast hard, foam lathering the horse’s neck as he took his irritation out on the dumb brute.

It had not been a good day. Dimera alone was enough to deal with. The man was deadly, his organization a power to rival Mikos’ own. The threat of assassination was not one Mikos held lightly. He’d employed such tactics enough himself to know their value. As much as he would like to, he could not simply dispose of the impertinent criminal as he deserved. Tomorrow, he would have to arrange for the man to be set free, whether the Alexander’s body was found by then or not. The risk of doing otherwise was simply too great.

Dimera he would have to let go, at least for now. Accounts with that man could be settled sometime in the future. With a small grin, Mikos allowed himself to briefly consider the wide variety of ‘accidents’ that could befall even the most cautious of men. In the end, Dimera would pay for his insolence.

Feeling slightly better, he pulled the heaving animal to an abrupt halt and slipped from the saddle. Tossing the reins to the trainer who was instantly at his side, he walked toward the main house, quirt tapping against his leather riding boots. Yes, Dimera would be released. It was decided. The woman.... The woman was something else entirely.

A sadistic smile curved his lips at the thought of her. He would swear that he could still taste her on his lips. Sweeter than the finest wine, she was incomparable. He’d had more than enough women to know. Sweet and soft, but with a core of steel. He had thought to break her with the news of her lover’s death. And lovers they had been. It was undeniable. He could see it in the way her eyes shot fire at the very mention of his brother’s name.

Oh, how he had wanted her to watch as he had taken Alexi apart, piece by piece. Taken him apart and then put him back together, a humble willing servant as he had always been meant to be. In the end, Mikos would have broken his brother just as surely as he had broken that horse. There would have been no doubts in anyone’s mind who the heir to the empire was. Even the woman would have been forced to recognize that she belonged to Mikos, not Alexander. That moment would have been so very sweet.

The recognition of the loss of that moment brought his irritation back full force. Growling deep in his throat, he slammed the whip against his boot. Damnation, it had been a bad day! Not only did he have to deal with Dimera and his arrogance, his own men appeared incapable of performing the simple act of retrieving a prisoner. Now, not only was Alexi dead, Mikos might be deprived of the opportunity to view the body. To lay it to rest, and with it, all possible challenges to his throne. He was surrounded by arrogance and incompetence, and on top of it all, he had to deal with that stubborn woman and her blasted pride!

Her lover lay dead. Her only hope of freedom, of rescue, eliminated. Yet did she crumble at his feet? Did she come to him on her knees, full of fear and anguish? Did she beg for her freedom? Plead for her life, the lives of her children? No! She had virtually spat in his face! Would have spat in his face if she had been close enough. He would bet on it. God, how he wanted her!

What he wanted, he would have. The woman might not break at the loss of her lover. She might not break, even at a threat against her own life. But she was not without weakness. Her children were her Achilles’ heel. While he controlled them, he controlled her. He needed no greater demonstration than the one she had given him at the breakfast table. Her whelp of a son had actually done Mikos a favor with his show of insolence. She would have done anything to stop the well-deserved beating. Anything at all.

A tremor ran through him at the thought of her lying beneath him, moaning out his name, begging for his touch. His hands clenched tightly at the memory of golden hair wrapped around his fingers, the scent of flowers as he held her close. He would have her. He would have her and he would never let her go.

Stefano looked up at the sharp rap on the door only to discover that his visitor was wasting no time waiting for an invitation to enter.

“Mr. Dimera. Stefano, isn’t it? I thought you might enjoy some company at dinner for a change?” The woman didn’t even pretend it was a question, pulling the wide so that the servant had plenty of rom for the dining cart..

Stefano sat in stunned silence as she bustled about the room, the blond servant trailing in her wake like a well trained hound. Without so much as a glance in his direction, she swept the newspaper from the table in the corner of the room and stood back to supervise as two covered plates were arranged on the now bare surface.

“I do hope you enjoy goose,” she commented over her shoulder, scooping up the corkscrew that Ivan had placed in the center of the table.

Turning to the tall slim blond who now stood behind her observing everything with a watchful eye, Vivian stood on tiptoe to buzz a light kiss against the side of his face. “You are a dear, Ivan. But you may run along now. Mr. Dimera and I require some privacy.” When Ivan seemed to hesitate, she reached out and grabbed his shoulder, leading him toward the still open door. With a pat on the butt that was almost a shove, she pushed him into the hall. Calling a cheery “Ta ta!” she slammed the door firmly behind her.

Finally regaining his composure, Stefano rose from his seat beside the window. She faced him from across the room, red lips curved in a smile that was almost a challenge. The tight black dress clung to her curves as if it had been painted on, the dark material lending a pale glow to the flesh revealed by the plunging neckline. “Um… Ms. D’Pau, is it?” he managed to grate out as she stalked toward him, her hips swaying with each stride of her long legs.

“Oh, why the formality, Stefano? Call me Vivian. Please?” she said, a smile in her eyes as she approached him.

She carried the bottle of wine before her in outstretched arms and for a moment he wondered if she planned to impale him with it. She stopped only when the cool glass made contact with his chest.

She looked up at him, catching his eyes in a direct stare. Her large green eyes twinkled mischievously as she said softly, “You wouldn’t mind opening this for me, would you? I’m just a helpless woman when it comes to such things.”

Clearing his throat, Stefano snatched the corkscrew which dangled from her fingers. “I have difficulty imagining you incapable of anything.”

Her high heels rang out sharply against the floor as she followed him to the table. “My third husband used to say the same thing!”

“Your third husband?” he noted with distraction, searching for some way to establish his control over the conversation.

“Yes, a dear man. It was tragic when he died so soon after the marriage. A heart attack, would you believe. He was only 52, and he dies of heart attack while in bed.”

Once again thrown off guard, Stefano sat down and reached for the bottle. “I am sorry for your loss. At least you can take comfort in how he passed on. There are worse fates than dying in one’s sleep.”

Nodding her thanks, Vivian raised the now full glass to her lips. Over the rim of her glass she studied him, a lazy grin making her eyes sparkle. “Who said he was asleep?”

Stefano choked as the wine went down the wrong way. Red-faced, he gasped for air, the fumes from the alcohol burning in his nose.

“My goodness! Are you all right?” Vivian asked with amused concern, her hand catching his in a surprisingly strong grip.

Nodding almost frantically he pulled away and wiped the tears from his eyes. “Yes. Yes, I am just fine. Thank you.”

Picked up her knife and fork, Vivian turned her attention to the meal. “Well, don’t you worry. If you have any trouble, I do know CPR.”

“I’ll bet you do,” Stefano muttered to himself as he took another sip of wine and tried to relax. He realized that she had heard him by the tight grin that flashed across her face.

“Ahem. Uh, Ms. D’Pau...”

“Vivian, please!” .

“Vivian.... While I am grateful for the pleasure of your company, I am curious as to the reason for this sudden visit. Is there something I can help you with?”

Leaning back in her chair, Vivian chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Hmmm. I believe the better question is, ‘Is there something I can do for you?’.”

Raising a brow, Stefano replied, “And what might that be?”

“Well, Mikos is my nephew. A sweet boy, but sometimes he tends to act before he thinks. Thus your rather reluctant visit to our home. Perhaps it would be possible for me to intervene with him on your behalf.”

Stefano could recognize a player when he saw one, and this lady was definitely a player. Feeling a bit more at ease as he immersed himself in this new game, he nodded thoughtfully. “That would be very kind of you, Vivian. Certainly there must be something I could do to repay your act of kindness?”

“Oh, I am sure that we could work something out,” she answered smoothly.

With a sardonic grin, he said, “I am sure that we could. However, I don’t believe your intervention will be necessary. Your nephew and I have come to an understanding. He recognizes the inappropriateness of his actions. The risk involved. We will be leaving you tomorrow.”

The news startled her, her eyes narrowing in consternation. “Mikos plans to release you?”

“Within 24 hours. I was very specific regarding my expectations. But it is almost a shame you and I will not be doing business together. I find the idea rather intriguing,” he said, enjoying having the little spitfire on the defensive.

With a casual shrug, Vivian reached out to run her fingers along the rim of the wine glass. “Yes, that is rather a pity, isn’t it? But I must say, I am surprised that you would leave Dr. Evans all alone in the tender care of my nephew.”

“Dr. Evans and her children will be accompanying me,” he answered sharply, a hint of danger in his tone. “I will not be leaving without them.”

Wide-eyed, she looked up at him. “Then perhaps you will not be leaving us after all. You do not know Mikos very well if you think he will relinquish the woman to you. He is very jealous of his toys.”

“So am I,” Dimera stated flatly.

The smile came back to her face and she rose abruptly from her chair. “Perhaps it would be best if we continue this conversation tomorrow, Stefano. I believe that I may be seeing you again for dinner after all.”

With a barely discernable wink, she turned and strode confidently to the door, leaving Stefano to his own thoughts. 

-----

“Hey little brother. You feeling any better this morning?” Carrie asked as she smoothed Eric’s hair back from his sleep dazed eyes.

“Umm… feel like I got run over by a truck,” he muttered groggily.

“Well he certainly sounds better,” Sami chirped as she flopped down onto the bed beside Eric.

“Please tell me that’s breakfast I smell.” Sitting up in bed, he ignored Sami.

“Yep. Ham and eggs, yet,” Carrie replied with a nod. “It sure beats those random fish parts they usually eat around here! And you should be hungry. You didn’t eat anything yesterday.”

“I didn’t feel much like eating.”

“You did get pretty banged up,” she said, ruffling his hair as she rose to get his breakfast.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he said almost resentfully, watching her with an accusing glare.

“I know what you meant,” she answered, not meeting his eyes as she settled a serving tray across his legs. “I just don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Alamain was lying, Carrie. Dad’s not dead. I’ve seen what he can do. There’s no way he’s dead!” Eric snapped, tears springing to the corners of his eyes.

“I hope you’re right Eric. I do. But… what if Stefano’s men betrayed him? What if they took him by surprise? I’m just saying, you have to be careful. You have to think before you act. If you keep making Mikos angry, he will hurt you again, and we can’t be sure that Dad will be there to save us. Not this time.”

Carrie hated the look of pain and doubt in Eric’s eyes, but she was afraid for him. Afraid he would do something rash, and that the next time, her mother would not be able to save him.

“Carrie, you’re wrong,” Sami said, reaching out to take her brother’s hand. “Dad will come. He’ll come and when he does, he’ll make Mikos pay.”

Sighing softly, Carrie met her sister’s blue-eyed gaze. “Sami, even if you’re right, it might be too late. Did you see the way that man looked at Mom? The way he kissed her?”

“Carrie, I do not want to talk about this!” Eric interjected, uneasy with the memory of Mikos’ hands on his mother.

“We have to talk about it!” Carrie shot back. “We have to be smart. We have to think about what we are going to do. Eric, the best thing we can do right now to protect ourselves is to just go along with whatever Mikos wants. He will use us against Mom if he can. You know that! It’s what he did yesterday.”

“So we’re just supposed to sit back and be polite to that asshole?! I don’t think so!” Sami snorted, her temper getting the better of her.

Frustrated, Carrie rose to her feet and looked down on her sister. “Sami, it’s not like I find the thought appealing. But it’s smart. We play along, buy some time, and wait for our chance to escape. If we keep fighting him like this, we’re only going to get hurt. Or worse yet, we’re going to get Mom hurt. Now as much as it pains you to be polite to that man, you ‘are’ going to do it because it may be the only way for us to get out of this mess!”

Hating to admit her sister was right, Sami simply muttered, “Dad’s going to kill him when he gets here.”

“Well we have to make certain that we are all okay when he does get here. So from here on, we try and be polite obedient little prisoners. Agreed?” Carrie asked, her eyes darting from Sami to Eric and back again.

“Yea. Agreed,” Eric replied grudgingly.

With a sigh of resignation, Sami merely nodded.

Relaxing slightly, Carrie sank back onto the bed with her two hot-headed siblings. “Good enough. Now, Eric, let’s figure out how we can play up your injuries so you can stay in the room with us. It’s time to start finding a way out of this mess.”

Mikos rapped gently on the bedroom door. “Marlena? Marlena, open the door please.”

He was not surprised by the lack of a response, and after a moments hesitation he cracked the door slowly open. The room was shrouded in darkness, the heavy drapes holding back the morning sun. Dimly he could make out her pale form, lying beneath the satin comforter on the big bed.

“They told me you refused to come down for breakfast,” he said, his tone kept purposefully gentle.

“I’m not hungry, Mikos. I just want to be left alone. Please respect that,” she replied wearily, closing her eyes so that she did not have to see him.

“I came to apologize, Marlena. My actions yesterday.... It was inexcusable. I was… I suppose I was in a state of shock,” he said as he walked over to stand at her bedside.

“I won’t ask you to forgive me my hasty actions, but I do wish you to understand,” he continued smoothly as he gazed down at her perfect features. “There is something you do not know. Something you need to understand about me. About John. When I was informed that he had been killed.... I never wanted that. I never wanted him hurt in any way. Marlena, John is my brother.”

Why was he telling her this? Why now, as if it would make any difference? Mikos was nothing like John. Nothing at all. Turning her head away from him, she said softly, “So what?”

Her indifference irritated him. He had thought she might soften toward him, thinking that he too shared her loss. Even better would have been the heat of her anger, raging out at him for taking the life of his own brother. Her anger excited him, made him want her all the more. But this, this apathy… there was no satisfaction to be found in that.

“You don’t sound surprised,” he noted, his voice growing hard.

“The physical resemblance is striking, I had guessed that you were related. Unfortunately you lack his character. I suppose that is why you had him killed?” she asked in a monotone, the entire conversation serving only to make her tired.

“From what I know of my brother, he was hardly a paragon of virtue,” Mikos replied snidely. “He was a killer. A hired gun for a criminal cartel. According to my reports, in the last several months he has been arrested for smuggling and assaulting a police officer, has killed several agents for the U.S. government, kidnaped you and your children and quite possibly killed your husband. Compared to my brother, I am a saint!”

She sat up suddenly, her cheeks flushing. “You don’t know him. You don’t know anything about him, and I assuredly do not have to defend him to you!”

Stifling a pleased smile, Mikos raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I am sorry! I meant no offense. Only… I wished to know my brother. You can understand that, can you not? But… he was a dangerous man. An unpredictable man. And the circumstances under which he was lost to the family.... I felt that I needed to be careful in our first meeting. I felt I needed to protect myself.”

Despite herself, Marlena interest was aroused. “Why was he lost? Why was John raised apart from his family?”

Sighing gently, Mikos dropped his head in order to hide the smile that curved his lips. He had no intention of allowing his brother to live on as a martyr in Marlena’s eyes. If he couldn’t personally destroy the man, the least he could do was tear down his character. “We were very little. Alexander, that was his given name, he was always more… aggressive than I. Anyway, he was just a toddler. Maybe three years old. I was eight. The big brother. The heir to the family legacy. Alexi always seemed to resent me, maybe that was why he did it. Whatever the reason, one day when we were out alone, I was sitting beside the pool. The next thing I knew, there was a shove and I was in the water. I would have drowned if one of the servants hadn’t come by. I would have drowned while Alexi stood and watched. After that.... Well, my father was a very protective man. Very protective of the heir to his legacy. I told him that it was an accident. I told him that Alexi was too little to know what he did. But my father, he had Alexander sent away so that he would never pose a threat to me again.”

His fable winding down, Mikos looked up at Marlena to gauge her reaction. “Do you understand now? Do you see why I was so cautious about meeting my brother again? I meant him no harm, but I wasn’t certain how he would react to me. I wanted to control the circumstances of our first meeting. Knowing what I do about the man, I felt I needed to protect myself in case he decided to lash out. I loved my brother, Marlena. I wanted him in my life. Yesterday, the way I acted.... That was out of grief, Marlena. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Marlena wondered if he actually expected her to believe that load of crap. She knew how John felt about family, knew how deeply loyal he was, even to a monster like Stefano. The thought that he would ever hurt a member of his own family was simply ludicrous. Keeping her face carefully neutral, she merely nodded. “I see. Thank you for telling me. But with John gone, I don’t suppose it matters anymore.”

Again she surprised him with her acquiescence. Quirking his brow, he reached out to take her hand in his. “I am so glad you understand, Marlena. You can’t know how much that means to me.”

Despite her better judgement, she could not help but pull free of his grip. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she nodded dismissively. “What’s done is done, Mikos. It is in the past. Now my only concern is to take my children home. They have been through so much this past year. We need to go home and get back to our lives.”

“I am afraid that may not be possible, Marlena,” he said gently, watching closely for her reaction.

Her stomach tensed as she realized that this was the reason behind Mikos’ feigned kindness. He had no intention of letting her go. She was his prisoner and she would remain so. But there was something he wanted from her. Something she could give him. Thus he sought to trick her with kindness, as if she could ever forget the feel of his hands on her skin. As if she could forget what he had done to her son. Forget what he had done to John. Her eyes were cold as she turned to look at him. “I want to leave, Mikos. I want to go home. You no longer need me to get to John.”

“Marlena, I have come to care about you. To care very deeply. You are the woman my brother loved. That makes you my responsibility. I take my responsibilities seriously. If you were to return home, I could not protect you. I could not protect your children. Marlena, you would not want your children to come to harm, would you?”

Her eyes narrowed in recognition of the veiled threat. “Who would harm my children, Mikos? What is it that you think we need ‘protection’ from?”

“Marlena, I don’t mean to upset you, but you know it’s true. Every report I have indicates that Stefano Dimera has been obsessed with you for years. I can’t hold the man here. I have already agreed to his release. And now… well, there is nothing to prevent him from simply taking you away now that… now that you’re alone. I care too much for you to allow that to happen. I owe this to my brother.”

His dark eyes mocked her as his words tried to ensnare her. “I am not afraid of Stefano,” she answered him coldly.

“You should be. He is a dangerous man. I will not allow you to leave this castle while a threat to you exists.”

“So I am to be a prisoner for the rest of my life? Is this how you repay your brother?!” she spat out, anger and frustration overwhelming her.

He smiled as she gave him the opening he had sought. “No. Of course not. There is another way, Marlena. A way that will benefit us all. Marlena, if you were married to someone with the strength, the power, to stand against Dimera.... You would be safe. Your children would be safe. You would be free to go anywhere you wished and never worry.”

She stared at him in shock, unable to believe what he was proposing. The gall of the man, to think that she could love him.

He could not help a small smile of satisfaction at her expression. She had never expected him to go this far. Had never imagined that his desire to posses her ran this deep. In time she would come to understand that he owned her, body and soul. Reaching out, he again took her hand in his. “Marlena, I am asking you to marry me,” he said gently.

As if his words brought her back to reality, she ripped free from his grip and scrambled from the bed, hugging the comforter around her. Eyes wide with sudden fear, she shook her head from side to side. “No. Mikos, no. I don’t love you. I don’t want you. No, I will not marry you!” she said, stunned by the very idea.

Smiling at her from across the other side of the bed, he tried to hide his irritation. “You don’t have to decide now, Marlena. I know this is sudden. But,” he said, his voice growing hard, “You will not leave here unless it is as my wife. After all, your children’s safety depends on it. I know you would never forgive yourself if something were to happen to them.”

He walked down the long hallway, a self-satisfied grin on his face. The look in her eyes when he had asked her to marry him had been priceless. For once her defenses had dropped and he had seen a glimpse of the fear that she normally hid so well. She would do as he asked, he had no doubt of it. Her love for her children would leave her no choice. He could have chosen no one better to sit by his side. To bear ‘his’ children. Once she carried his child, she would never be able to escape him. He doubted she would even try. Now if Dimera could be dealt with as successfully, nothing would stand between him and his destiny.

With a peremptory knock, he entered Stefano’s room, his confidence making him almost jovial. “Stefano? May I assume that you are anxious to prepare for your departure? We simply need to decide on the ‘when and where’ and then inform your men. If you wish, you can be out of my home tonight.”

Irritated at the man’s intrusion, Stefano put down the novel he had been reading and rose to his feet. “A wise decision on your part, Mikos,” he said dryly. “However, it has occurred to me that we might not have been clear on all of my terms. When I leave here, I am taking Dr. Evans and her children with me. You do understand that?”

Stefano’s directness threw Mikos momentarily off balance. “Well, I do understand your interest in the beautiful doctor, but I am afraid that that is simply not possible,” he replied defensively.

“It is more than possible, Mikos. She is under my protection. If anything were to happen to her or her children, I would take it as a personal insult. An insult that would be dealt with most harshly,” Stefano stated, his anger showing in his voice.

Mikos’ hands clenched tightly as his temper flared. “Marlena is staying, Dimera. She no longer requires your ‘protection’. In fact, the lady is soon to be my wife! As such, she will have all of the protection she needs. The only question now is whether you present a greater threat to me dead or alive.”

Dumbfounded, Stefano stood in shocked silence. Marlena would never consent to marry this arrogant psychopath. He had pursued her long enough himself to know the futility of it. There was no way she would be coerced into a union with a man like Mikos. Then the obvious answer presented itself and he gave a grudging laugh. “You blackmailed her. You used her children, didn’t you?” he asked, smiling faintly.

Dimera would never believe him if he denied it, and Mikos didn’t much care what he thought anyway. Shrugging modestly, Mikos gave a half-bow. “I’m surprised you never tried it yourself. My reports show that you wanted her badly enough.”

“I preferred to think that eventually, she would come to me willingly.”

“I prefer to know that she doesn’t,” Mikos said with an ugly smile.

Stefano’s jaw clenched slightly at the reply, but he gave no other indication of his thoughts. “My congratulations, then. You have achieved a prize I had long sought. I don’t suppose there is anything I could offer to convince you to turn her over to me?”

Still smiling, Mikos shook his head. “Oh no, there is nothing you have that is her match. If I must go to war to keep her, I will,” he said grimly.

Nodding in resignation, Stefano replied, “No, there is no point in a war. I am, after all, a businessman. War is bad for business. However, if you are going to deprive me of the fair Marlena, I believe that some form of compensation would be in order.”

Mikos’ interest was peaked. Dimera was accepting his defeat much more graciously than he had anticipated. Perhaps the man and his contacts might prove useful in the future. Cautiously, Mikos asked, “What exactly did you have in mind?”

Stefano eased back down into the armchair and flashed Mikos a smile. “Well, I have had some time to think lately. I believe that there are undeveloped business opportunities in this part of the world. With the dissolution of the Soviet Union, it seems there are newly independent countries almost every day. New countries, hungry to experience the wonders of capitalism. The joys of freedom. Fertile ground for a man with my resources. However, I would need someone who knows Eastern Europe. Someone with connections, prestige, perhaps even a royal title to lend legitimacy. Do you happen to know anyone like that?”

It was Mikos’ turn to be surprised. “You are proposing a partnership?” he asked, incredulous.

Chuckling, Stefano shook his head. “I don’t think either of us trusts enough for that. But I would like to explore the possibilities of a ‘loose working relationship’, if you could call it that. I assure you, I am not the sort of man who allows my personal life to stand in the way of a good business opportunity. And I do believe it only fair that I receive something for the aggravation of this little kidnaping of yours. This is a business proposition, plain and simple.”

Mikos was suspicious of the man, the ease of his surrender seeming uncharacteristic. However a criminal such as Dimera was probably so lacking in honor that he wouldn’t know how to carry a grudge if he wanted to. His only concern would be profit, and Mikos had been very impressed with how profitable the Dimera cartel appeared to be. “Your proposal is not without a certain appeal,” he replied contemplatively. “At the least, it is worth considering how our two interests might intersect.”

“Yes, the possibilities are intriguing, aren’t they. With your permission, I will call my men and inform them I will be staying on for a few days more, this time as your guest,” Stefano said, smiling as he observed Mikos’ reaction.

Alamain regarded him doubtfully, finally giving a grudging nod. “It is worth exploring, anyway. Though I am sure you will understand my request that you not leave your room without the company of an escort?”

“How very kind of you to be so concerned for my safety,” Stefano responded wryly.

“Yes, well I would hate for you to be tempted to abscond with Dr. Evans. Any such effort would result in an abrupt end to our business dealings. An abrupt and ugly end,” Mikos said.

“I can well understand why you would be protective of your bride-to-be,” Stefano answered sarcastically. “However, before we finalize our plans, I will have to insist on seeing Marlena.”

Mikos’ eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I don’t see why that is necessary.”

“Then let me rephrase. Before I call my men and tell them ‘not’ to start blowing up your businesses and shooting your relatives down in the street, I ‘will’ talk to her. I may not be prepared to go to war in order to possess her, but I will not leave here without talking to her one last time.”

“What is it that you need to say to her?”

Rolling his eyes, Dimera gave a dismissive wave of his hands. “Mikos, I have been… interested in this woman for years. I wish to speak with her. What is it you fear I will say? We both know that her only choice is to do as you wish. I will not tell her otherwise if only for her own sake. Now, before I call my men, I wish to see her.”

Mikos was reluctant, but he could see no real danger. As Dimera said, the best advice that could be offered was to play along. With a grudging nod, he agreed. “I will have her join you for lunch. Perhaps you can even get her to eat something, she was looking rather pale this morning. When you are done talking, I will have a phone brought in so you can contact your people.”

“Marlena?” Stefano said with concern, rising from his chair to meet her at the doorway. “Come sit down, you don’t look well.”

“Kidnaping disagrees with me,” she said dryly, but she didn’t resist as he took her arm and led her to one of the armchairs set at the small table.

“Mikos was right, you do look pale,” he said, putting a hand out to check her temperature.

Angrily, she slapped the hand away. “I do not need you telling me that anything about that man is ‘right’,” she snapped.

Stefano drew back, eyes wide with surprise at the outburst. “Well it is nice to see that captivity hasn’t affected your sweet temperament!”

“Don’t start,” she answered tiredly, her hands moving to rub at her temples in an effort at staving off the pounding headache that threatened.

“Marlena, are you all right?” Stefano asked more seriously.

Somehow the tears she had denied herself in Alamain’s presence sprang to her eyes now that she was alone with Stefano. “No, I’m not all right. How could I be? Did he tell you about John?” she managed to gasp out.

Crouching beside her chair, Stefano reached to take one of her trembling hands in his own. “Is that what this is about?” he asked, a faint smile on his face.

Angrily she jerked away. “Of course that’s what this is about! John may be dead, at least you could pretend like you care!” she virtually shouted at him.

Chuckling, he rose and seated himself across from her. “I cannot believe that after all you have seen, after all you have been through, you will simply accept the word of that cretin that John is dead! John will be highly insulted when I tell him.”

Brushing at her eyes, she shot Dimera a hard look. “If you know something, you had better tell me right now.”

He gave an exaggerated shrug. “I know John, isn’t that enough? You don’t really believe that he would be killed so easily do you?”

“No. No, I don’t. But Stefano, sometimes things go wrong....”

Nodding agreeably, he replied, “True. Very true. I will admit, even I had a moment of doubt. It was why I agreed to make a call to my men. I wanted to hear it for myself. I wanted to know if it was true.”

“Well?!” Marlena prodded in exasperation.

“From Jensen’s own lips, I heard the news. ‘No doubt, the Phoenix is dead’,” Dimera said with satisfaction.

When Marlena continued to simply stare at him in puzzlement, he gave her a tight smile and lifted a glass of wine as if in salute. “Don’t be silly, my dear. You should know better than anyone, the Phoenix never dies.”

For a moment it seemed as if she hadn’t understood his meaning. Then a sudden smile lit her face and laughter peeled out full force. She dropped her head to the table and held her sides as she gasped for air, tears streaming freely down her face. “Please tell me you’re serious,” she managed to choke out.

“I am always serious,” he replied with a broad grin, her joy seemingly contagious.

When the last of her chuckles died away, she wiped at her tears in embarrassment. “Thank you,” she said in a small voice, glancing away from him. “You don’t know how scared I was. I can’t lose him. Do you understand that?”

“I understand, Marlena. I do,” he said softly, resisting the urge to reach out to her.

“What… what do you think happened? Mikos seemed so sure that he was dead.”

Stefano shrugged. “It’s not like faking a death is a novel idea. I trained the boy well. Be assured, it is part of some plan to free us. So far, it appears the plan is working,” he concluded with a smile.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a dry chuckle, straightening in her chair as she tried to compose herself. “I must seem an emotional wreck.”

Stefano gave a dismissive snort. “Hardly. Dealing with Alamain is enough to drive a Baptist to drink. He told me of his latest plan for you. A marriage?”

Her face grew hard at the thought. “That will be a cold day in hell,” she said shortly.

Not wanting to disrupt the tenuous truce they seemed to have established, Stefano said hesitantly, “Marlena, perhaps you should consider going along with it?”

“What?!”

He raised his hands as if to deflect her anger. “Please! Hear me out. Marlena, John will come. We can count on that. But it may take him time. If you go along with the wedding plans, it could buy us that time. It will put Alamain off his guard.”

Adamantly she shook her head. “I cannot stand that man! Stefano, he hit Eric! He, he kissed me. In front of my children. And then he hit Eric… No. There is no way I can pretend I will marry him. My God, what would John think!”

“John would think you were doing what was necessary. Necessary to protect your children. Necessary to protect yourself! Marlena, have you considered what Mikos will do if you deny him?” Stefano challenged.

Her only reply was to glance away, her arms moving to wrap protectively around her chest.

Dimera felt the anger growing at what Alamain was doing to her, and consciously tried to soften his tone. “Marlena, if you fight him, he will use force. Do you understand that? If you appear to go along with his plans, however reluctantly, he will relax. He will take his time. He will toy with you. But if you deny him… he will use force. If you can pretend to go along with the marriage, it will buy John the time he needs to find us.”

For a long moment she said nothing, merely staring at the ground. Finally her head rose to meet his gaze. “I hate him,” she whispered vehemently. “I hate to be in the same room with him. To agree to marry him? I don’t know if I can do it.”

He smiled grimly at her response. “That’s because you are not a very good liar, Marlena. An obvious flaw in your upbringing. But not to worry. I’m here to help you, and I am a very good liar. When we are done with Mikos Alamain, he won’t know what hit him.”

Ever so slowly, a matching smile crept across Marlena’s face. “I guess if I’m going to learn, it might as well be from the best.”

Chuckling, he replied, “Thank you for the compliment.”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” she noted with a grin.

With an agreeable nod, he gestured at the dinner plates. “Enough with the insults. Eat your lunch, you are looking far too pale lately. You need to keep your strength up. Who knows, we may even get out of here without waiting for John.”

As she twirled a strand of pasta around her fork, Marlena looked up curiously. “Do you have a plan or are you just bragging?”

Leaning back in his chair, he sipped at his wine and considered how best to classify Vivian D’Pau. “Hmm. For the moment, let me just say I have an intriguing proposition and let’s leave it at that.”

Deciding that she would never truly understand Stefano Dimera, Marlena merely shrugged, content for the moment with the knowledge that John was alive.

“Look, we don’t need to wake him up now. Wait until your men report back with something. There’s nothing we can do ‘til then anyway, and this is just going to upset him,” Bo hissed out in a low voice.

“I was to inform him as soon as we heard anything,” Jensen whispered back in irritation. “I held off about the phone trace, but he has to be told now that we’ve heard from Mr. Dimera. If I don’t wake him up now, he is quite capable of killing me when he does finally find out!”

Jensen tried to get around Bo’s big form, but the man shifted to block his path once again. The two were almost to the point of exchanging blows when a groggy voice interrupted from the couch. “Tell me what?” John muttered hoarsely.

Bo threw his hands up in resignation as Jensen sidled past him, going to stand before John who was sitting gingerly up on the big couch.

“So? What’s the word?” he asked, rubbing at his sore chest.

“Well, sir. We have good news and bad news...” Jensen trailed off, suddenly wishing he had left this job to Bo.

“Jensen, stop screwing around and tell me what happened,” John grunted in irritation, his eyes locked onto Jensen’s worried face.

“Yes. Well, the good news is that we did manage to trace an outgoing call from one of the men we were following. The call went to a little town in Slovichnia called St. Julien. It’s a small country out in the middle of nowhere, formerly a part of Russia. I dispatched a team to check it out and they should be on-sight any hour now. It won’t be hard to discover if Alamain is holding them there.”

John nodded in satisfaction, his mind already going through the requirements of an assault team. “I want everything you have on that town ASAP Jensen. We’ll take out the whole town if we have to, but I want Marlena and the children back, and I want it done yesterday. Now, what’s the bad news?” he asked, rising unsteadily to his feet.

Unconsciously, Jensen took a half-step back. “Sir, we finally got the call from Mr. Dimera. It seems that Mr. Alamain was unwilling to release Dr. Evans and the children. According to Mr. Dimera, he has chosen to stay and work on a business proposal with Alamain. I assume that means he wants to remain on-sight and aid any rescue attempt from the inside.”

John gave a half-shrug and ran a hand through his hair, trying to wake up. “Well, I was hoping they would let them go once I was thought dead, but this isn’t too much of a surprise. It’s not a crisis Jensen.”

“Um, no sir, it’s not. But...”

“But what?!” John snapped in irritation.

“Sir. Mr. Dimera also informed me that Alamain has announced his impending wedding.... to Dr. Evans.”

-----

“John? Hey John, what ya doing?” Bo asked, peering around the door into the study.

The soft glow of the table lamp was the only source of illumination. Caught within its circle of light, John’s still form gave no acknowledgment of Bo’s presence.

Gingerly he entered the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Standing silently, he watched John as he sat at the desk, his black hair hanging down around his shoulders in damp strands. Water droplets fell unnoticed, forming pools on the polished surface of the desk. Oblivious, the man remained hunched over the desk, his attention focused on a glint of metal held between his fingers.

Feeling suddenly like he was intruding, Bo loudly cleared his throat. “Uh, John! Jeesh, ever think of drying off when you get out of the shower?! I tracked you down by following the puddles on the floor!”

As if it took a great effort to bring his thoughts back to the present, John slowly lifted his head and focused on Bo. “What do you want, Bo?” he asked mildly, his hands clenching tight shut around the shining bits of metal as if to conceal them from prying eyes.

“Well, right now what I want is for you to finish drying off and then come eat some dinner. A shower was a nice first step in rejoining the human race, but you’ve still got a ways to go before you’re done,” Bo answered with a forced smile.

“Bo, I am not hungry and I don’t need a mother. Now go away,” John said tiredly, dropping his head to again study the desktop.

With an irritated sigh, Bo stepped forward to grab a throw off of the couch. Moving to John, he said, “First off, I don’t care if you are hungry. You haven’t eaten in at least 24 hours, thus you need to eat, hungry or not. As to the second point, you do need a ‘mother’ or you wouldn’t have bothered to spirit me out of Salem in the first place. You aren’t worried about trusting Jensen! Hell, the man is a bulldog where you are concerned. I thought he was going to jump me for trying to make him wait to tell you about Dimera’s news. The only reason you had for bringing me along was because you knew you were going to need somebody who wasn’t afraid of you and who wouldn’t accept your crap when you decided to get all moody! In short, you do need a mother and I am it!” Bo stated emphatically, finishing his lecture by throwing the blanket across John’s wet shoulders.

Tugging the blanket about his body, John gave a low groan and stretched back in the thick leather desk-chair. He felt suddenly cold and tired, as if remaining upright took more effort than he had to give. “I really did bring you because you are the only one I trust, Bo. I trust you to put her above everything else. Even me,” he said softly, allowing his eyes to fall closed.

“I know,” Bo answered more gently, perching a hip on the edge of the desk. “But John, right now what’s best for Marlena is keeping you healthy. You need to take care of yourself if you want to help her.”

When his efforts received no response, Bo leaned forward to nudge a shoulder. “John, come on. You’ve hardly said a word since you found out about the marriage. I wish you’d talk to me, dammit!”

John snorted in grim amusement. “What is it you want me to say, Bo? What is it you want to know? My darkest fears? My deepest dreams? You want to know what I wish for, Bo?”

“If you really want to know, I’ll tell you,” he said, sitting up suddenly to look the younger man in the eye. “I wish she ‘was’ getting married. I wish she was marrying some nice normal guy who worked in accounting or something. Some guy who will come home to her every night and tell her that he will never hurt her and that he will always be there for her, and actually be telling the truth! That’s what I wish for Bo!” he almost yelled, the sound of his fist impacting against the desktop ringing out in the room.

Startled by the sudden flash of anger, Bo backed away from the man seated at the desk. “Take it easy, man. This isn’t doing anybody any good. You can’t dwell on what might have been, John. Losing your temper isn’t going to help get her back!”

For a moment, John simply sat contemplating his closed fist. Finally, he took a deep breath, trying to make himself relax as he exhaled. “I hope you recognize the irony of you lecturing me on controlling my temper,” he muttered weakly.

With a wry grin, Bo replied, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Sighing tiredly, John looked over at him. “Thanks for trying to help Bo. I do appreciate it. But right now.... I just want to be alone, okay?”

“What about dinner?” Bo prodded.

With a shrug, John glanced back down at the desk, his fingers absently twirling a gleaming bit of gold. “I want to hear from the men in St. Julian. Once I know where she is, I’ll take a break and get some dinner. Okay?”

“Okay,” Bo replied reluctantly, his eyes following the path of John’s vacant gaze.

“Um, what you got there?” he asked, gesturing at John’s hand.

Glancing up in distraction, John seemed to notice what he was doing for the first time. Opening his hand, he studied the two rings that lay cradled in his palm. Almost reverently, he reached out with his left hand and picked up a simple gold band. A faint smile crossed his face as he held it up to the light. “My wedding ring,” he said softly, his fingers rubbing gently over the smooth metal.

“You still wear it?” Bo asked curiously.

The smile fading from his face, John lay the ring down in the center of the table. “No. No, I don’t have the right,” he said, his voice emotionless.

“I was there when she put that ring on your finger,” Bo said softly. “Remember that?”

“Like it was yesterday,” he answered, bitterness in his tone.

“She was happy then. As happy as I have ever seen her. You need to remember that too, John. You brought her much happiness. Nothing that happens can take that away from you.”

“Don’t fool yourself, Bo. The man who wore that ring no longer exists. He never did. He was a lie I told myself. The fact that I believed the lie doesn’t make him any more real. It simply makes him pathetic,” John stated harshly.

Stiffly, John rose to his feet, the blanket falling away. Clad only in a pair of faded jeans, the dark bruises stood out in stark contrast to his pale skin. In the dim light, he was all muscle and sinew, as hard as stone and just as cold. “Do you want to know who I am now, Bo? Do you want to see what I’ve become?” he asked, the words hissing out in a dangerous growl.

Bo took a step back as the man before him raised his hand, muscles rippling beneath taut stretched skin. In the cupped palm sat another ring, white-gold holding a massive ruby. In the center of the stone was the familiar sign of the phoenix, depicted in onyx inlay.

“Dimera’s ring,” John said quietly, his thumb running across the face of the stone. “The kidnappers sent it as proof that they had them.”

John’s blue eyes glanced up at Bo, their expression unreadable. “Do you know who this ring belongs to, Bo? It belongs to me. Stefano promised it to me on my twenty-first birthday.”

Almost as if it were an act of defiance, John slid the ring over the middle finger of his right hand. His hand clenched into a fist, the dark stone flashing blood red in the light. “This is who I am. Neither of us should forget that.”

Bo simply looked at him, wondering how he could ever have believed the man before him to be his brother. Questions he had avoided thinking about could no longer be avoided as suppressed anger suddenly surged to the fore. “Why did you do it, John? Why the hell did you ever try and take my brother’s place?” he shot out tightly.

“What? Don’t you get it yet? That was my job, Bo! That’s what I did! Stefano wanted the woman. What he wanted, I did!” John replied, his body coiling itself as if for a fight. “What in the hell do you think I’ve been trying to tell you?!”

Startled by the frank admission, Bo stuttered, “Well… I thought he made you work for him or something. You were coerced. Forced into it...” he trailed off almost hopefully.

For a moment, John wished he could lie about it. Tell Bo some story that he would be only too willing to believe. But if couldn’t make himself believe the lies, it wasn’t fair that Bo should. “Look around you, Bo. Who do you think is in charge of the Dimera cartel? Jensen? Hardly. I am the one who is in control, Bo. It’s how Stefano wanted it. I’m his second in command and I always have been. I am the one man he would trust to watch over his empire, and believe me, that trust was earned. I have done things for him that would make you puke and I’ve never even given it a second thought. He never ‘made’ me do anything I didn’t want to!”

Dropping his eyes, he gave a resigned shrug. “The man was a father to me. I respected him. I would have done anything he asked of me, and been glad of the opportunity. Bo, the truth is that I went to Salem in order to take Marlena away. If things hadn’t… ‘gone wrong’,” he said with a snort, “I would have brought her back to Dimera and considered it a job well done. End of story.”

Disgust colored Bo’s features. Warred with the disbelief. The impossibility of John ever betraying her like that. His voice was harsh when he finally managed to find the right words. “So you had to sleep with her to do that? Was that part of your ‘job’? I guess I didn’t realize you were Dimera’s whore!”

John allowed himself an ugly chuckle. “Nobody had to pay me to sleep with Marlena, Bo. Trust me on that one.”

A snarl on his face, Bo’s hands latched onto John’s neck, yanking the man violently forward. “You son of a bitch,” he grunted, hate flashing in eyes.

Coldly, John knocked the offending touch away with one quick movement of his own. Stepping back, he simply shook his head, his hands raising in a placating gesture. “That’s not what I meant, Bo. I didn’t.... My relationship with Marlena. That wasn’t something Stefano ordered. Hell, it was the last thing he wanted!”

Turning away, John moved to put some distance between himself and the angry young man behind him. The man deserved to know the truth. He deserved to understand. With a heavy sigh, John searched for the words that could convey the truth of his life as Roman Brady. “I was… It was a bad time for me, Bo. I was hurt. Angry. I think maybe I was losing my mind. Stefano… I think I scared even him. He had me on some experimental drugs. Something to calm me down. Make me… controllable. I was only supposed to observe Marlena. The family. Get close enough so that when the time came, I would be able to take her out of Salem in such a way that no one would know what happened. But the drugs… the hypnosis to implant Roman’s knowledge of Salem, of the family.... I don’t know, Bo. Something happened. I was out on my own. I didn’t remember anything. Didn’t remember who I was… what I was. Hell, I probably didn’t ‘want’ to remember anything. And then I met Marlena, and everything changed. For a while, I changed.”

Turning to again face Bo, he said calmly. “I would have never hurt her. I would have done anything to protect her. To protect the family. Never doubt that.”

“What about now,” Bo asked, doubt still evident in his voice.

“Now?” With a shrug, John again allowed his fingers to play across the crest on the ring. “Now I remember who I am. I want her safe, Bo. I want to see her happy. But I can’t pretend that I can give her that. I won’t fool myself that way again. Anybody… ‘anybody’ who threatens her, I will make them dead! But I can’t be a part of her life. I’m no longer the type of man she would ‘want’ in her life. She may refuse to see that, but I don’t. I can’t. Not if it places her in harms way.”

Bo studied the man who stood before him. Knew that he meant the words he said. Knew that he believed them. Carefully he reached out and picked the simple gold band up from the table. Holding it up before John, he asked, “And what about this? Does it mean nothing to you anymore?”

For an instance, John’s face seemed to soften and he reached as if to take the ring. With a sudden start, he checked his movement and turned away. “Go away, Bo,” he said softly. “Please, there is no point in talking about it.”

“Did your life together mean so little to you?” Bo shot back, angry now for reasons he could not name.

Without reply, John walked away, retreating to the big window at the back of the study. Peering out into the darkness of the night, he searched for the words that would make sense of his thoughts. “Our life together meant everything to me. ‘She’ means everything to me,” he finally said. “But do you know what I see when I look at that ring? I see a lie. I see a symbol of all of the ways I have betrayed her. I see every broken promise. Promises of a future I can never give her, Bo!”

Turning his back on the night, he again faced the man he had called brother. “If I really loved her, Bo, I would set her free. Free of me! Of my curse! She has known nothing but evil through me. If I had the strength, I would spare her that. If I had the strength, I would leave her,” he finished quietly.

With firm steps, he approached Bo’s silent form. Taking the ring from Bo’s fingers he laid it in the younger man’s palm. “Maybe that’s why I needed you, Bo,” he whispered softly. “If I’m not strong enough to set her free, you have to be. I count on you to protect her. From everyone. Especially from me.”

“What are you saying, John?” Bo asked uncertainly, his fingers tightening around the slender band of gold he held in his hand.

“I am saying that if you sense a threat to Marlena, I want you to kill it. Any threat, Bo. Especially if it’s from me,” he replied flatly. “I want your promise on this, Bo.”

For a moment, the two men’s eyes locked. Finally, Bo dropped his head, no longer certain what to think. The man who stood before him now was not his brother. He was nothing like Roman Brady. He wasn’t even the same man he had been during his time in Salem. That man he would have trusted with his life, brother or not. But what stood before him now.... There was an ugliness there. A danger. The only thing he knew about John Black was that he was a very dangerous man. A dangerous man who loved Marlena with every fiber of his being. Bo was no longer certain that that was enough. Finally, he raised his head to meet those cold eyes in an unblinking stare of his own. “I promise,” he replied softly.

With a brief nod, John turned and moved toward the door. He was halfway out before Bo’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“What if I think the only way to keep her safe is for you to be there for her?” he asked hesitantly, his thoughts in turmoil.

John thought a second before finally replying. “If I can make her happy? Keep her safe? Then I’ll be wanting my damn ring back. Better make sure you don’t lose it,” he said with a half-smile. Feeling suddenly better, he turned and strode down the hall, seeking word on the report from St. Julian.

Alone in the room, Bo tucked the tiny band of gold into his pocket. There would be time enough later to decide whether he would ever give it back.

“Ah, Vivian! I hoped to have the pleasure of your company for dinner tonight,” Stefano said, moving forward to take her arm in his.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Vivian replied with a sly smile, linking her fingers around the proffered arm. “I was worried that you might choose to leave us today and I would be deprived of the opportunity to continue our… relationship.”

Holding out the chair for her, Stefano allowed himself a small smile. “You need not concern yourself, Vivian. I hate to leave unfinished business, and my dealings with the Alamains are just starting to get interesting.”

She smiled politely as he took the seat across from her. “Yes, I heard that you and my nephew are exploring the possibilities of a working partnership. I must say, I was a bit surprised at how quickly your concerns regarding Marlena were dropped.”

“I am a pragmatic man,” Dimera answered with a slight shrug. “And may I say, I am impressed by how much you seem to know about what goes on in this house.”

“Oh, I know all of the dirty little secrets,” she replied, shooting him a challenging look from beneath lowered lashes.

“Do you, now?”

“Oh, yes. For example, I know that you have no intention of allowing the wedding between Marlena and my nephew to proceed,” she said nonchalantly, hoping that she had judged the man correctly.

His jaw clenched in anger and a dangerous look darkened his eyes. “And how exactly would you know this?” he asked, his voice somehow threatening.

She met his look with a direct one of her own, lips curving in a slight smile at the fact that once again, her instincts had been correct. “A man like you does not give up so easily Stefano. If you cannot force Mikos to turn Marlena over to you, you will take her by stealth. The one thing you will not do is admit defeat. Certainly not this easily.”

He relaxed slightly, relieved that she had no hard evidence of his plans. “Perhaps I do still have some slight interest in Dr. Evans. However, I see no practical way to extricate her from this situation. Not without help, anyway,” he said, watching her expectantly.

She nodded as if lost in thought. “Yes, alone it would be very difficult. But with the proper aid, the proper accomplice, it might be possible.”

“Have you anyone in mind?” Stefano asked, an amused grin tugging at his lips. The woman across from him certainly knew how the game was played.

“Well, I might be persuaded to help you. As long as your cause is just, of course,” she answered, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

He gave a short bark of laughter at that. “My cause is always just, dear lady. But you would be taking a great risk. Surely there must be some way I could repay your kindness.”

He studied her closely, wondering what it was she wanted from him. Of one thing he had no doubt, Vivian D’Pau was not motivated by altruism. She would get something out of this bargain, and he preferred to know the price before their dealings went any further.

Reaching across the small table, she took his hand in hers. “It will be my pleasure to help you and that poor woman. But… If you insist on repaying the favor, there is something you might do.”

When he failed to respond, she gave a slight sigh and released his hand. Sinking back in her chair, she dropped all pretense. “Stefano, I want my nephew removed from power. He is a dangerous man. An unstable man. He wastes the resources of the family stupidly and recklessly. He sees enemies behind every corner. No one who is close to him is safe from his paranoia, and I grow tired of living in fear.”

“You want me to have him killed?” he answered in surprise. He had thought Vivian more subtle than that.

“No! No, that’s not what I meant. He is my nephew. My closest relative. I… I want him neutralized, Stefano. I have the means to do it, but I lack the contacts, the power to do it safely.”

Confused now, he asked shortly, “What is it exactly that you want me to do, Vivian?”

She glanced down at her hands, trying to collect her thoughts. “Mikos is the head of the family by right of blood. As the first born son, he inherited all of his father’s wealth and power. You must understand, the Alamain bloodline traces back to the Czars. His power rests on the fact that he is the Prince.”

“So?” Stefano said indifferently, unimpressed by the royal pedigree.

“So I have proof that Mikos is not the heir. Proof that his father was not the Prince. He is not the heir, Alexander was. With his death, the bloodline ends. The Alamain power is fragmented, leaving Mikos with nothing.”

An ugly smile lit Dimera’s face. “You have proof of this? Proof that will stand up in court?”

“Oh, yes. I have letters from my sister, naming Mikos’ true father. I even have a medical report that proves Illya could not have been Mikos’ father. The proof will stand up. I simply need someone with the resources to make certain that the evidence isn’t somehow ‘lost’ or the judge bribed or intimidated. Mikos will fight this with everything he has, and he will fight dirty. That is the reason I have never tried to bring this to light myself. It would have been futile and I would have ended up in an early grave. I enjoy life far too much to take that risk.”

“But you assume that I will be willing to do this for you?” he asked with a grin.

“Am I wrong?” was her reply.

“No. No, you’re not. In fact, I rather like the idea of watching Mikos fall from power. And this news does have some interesting repercussions,” he said thoughtfully, already considering the benefits to his empire if John were to take over the Alamain holdings.

“Then we are agreed?” Vivian asked, breaking him from his musings.

“It is an interesting proposition. However, before I agree to anything, I need to know how it is that you can help me. Do you actually have a plan to get Marlena and her children out of here, or are you simply offering to lend moral support?” he asked, watching her with a critical eye.

Feigning insult, Vivian arched her brows. “You think so little of my offer of aid? Of course I have a plan.”

She sat across from him, returning his stare with one of his own until finally his patience ran out. “Well? Are you going to make me beg? What is your plan?” he asked in exasperation.

Smiling sweetly, she continued. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed Ivan? The tall blond, one of Mikos’ most trusted servants? You know, the one with the cute… Anyway, Ivan is very dedicated to me. He will do anything I ask of him. As part of his duties, he makes a weekly trip into town in order to pick up some of the more exotic supplies that Mikos has shipped in. Typically, he drives in after dinner and does not return until late at night. I believe that Marlena and her children could be hidden in the back of the van. The little town of St. Julian can offer no safety, but if Ivan drove straight through, they could reach the city of Stanburg before it was ever discovered that they were missing. I have associates in the city. They would be safe until they could contact your people and be picked up. Of course, Ivan would have to be put under your protection. But he is a dear boy. He would be an asset to your organization, and I am certain that the two of you could work out some mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“You are certain Ivan could be trusted to do this?” he asked doubtfully.

“I am very certain,” she replied with a confident grin.

“And how would Marlena and the children reach the van?” Dimera asked, already running the options over in his mind.

She chuckled, “Stefano, this is a castle! Didn’t you know, all castles are laced with secret passages?”

He shot her an incredulous look. “Are you saying that there is a passage out of our rooms?”

“Well, possibly. Actually, I only know of one in the room the two girls are staying in. It is imperative that they all be together in that room for our plan to work. But if they are there, Ivan can lead them out. Of that, I am certain.”

He gave an appreciative nod. “You have thought this out, haven’t you?”

Modestly, she shrugged, a teasing smile on her lips.

The scenario was not without flaws, but it was the only viable option he could think of. With a pleased nod, he said, “Vivian, I believe that we have a deal. If you help me get them out, I will promise to bring your nephew to his knees. Now, how soon can we put this plan in action?”

“Unfortunately, Ivan has already left on this week’s delivery run. It will be another week before we can make the attempt. Of course, that will give us the time to work out the details. Besides, I am rather enjoying your company.”

Raising his glass, he clinked it lightly against hers in a silent toast. “Then let us drink to the success of our union,” he replied, a pleased smile creasing his face.

“To us,” Vivian said agreeably, her eyes holding his in a challenging gaze as she rose slowly to her feet and closed the gap between them.

He leaned comfortably back in his chair, watching in appreciation as she came to stand at his side. Her warmth pressed against his hand, but he gave no response, waiting for her to make the first move. Taking her time, she bent slowly down to brush her wine sweetened lips against his in a delicate kiss. “To seal our bargain,” she said softly, her breath whispering in his ear.

His blood quickened and he rose swiftly to his feet, the chair falling to the floor behind him. “You know I’m not going to let you stop there, don’t you?” he asked, his voice suddenly thick with desire.

“Who says I want to stop?” she replied, her body pressing tight against his.

He laughed at her audacity, realizing it had been far too long since last he had indulged himself. With one deft move, he swept her into his arms, unleashing a kiss meant to show her exactly who was in control.

She answered the demands of his mouth with a fervor that took his breath away, shoving him back until they both collapsed on the big bed. Red nails slashed his shirt open, and he had but a moment to think that perhaps he had finally met his match. Then his body jerked in response to her touch and he was forced to concentrate on the task at hand. 

-----

“You’re late Bo,” a hard voice accused as he walked in the door.

Rubbing bleary eyes, he stifled a yawn and threw a nasty look in John’s direction. “Are you the idiot who was pounding on my door? It’s only 6 a.m. for Christ’s sake!”

“Well get yourself some coffee and shag your ass over here. Jensen and I have been working on this for two hours already. I want you in place by tonight at the latest,” John retorted irritably, looking up to glare at Bo from over the top of the paper strewn desk.

Bo didn’t bother with a reply, his attention focused on the scalding hot coffee as he chugged down one cup and then poured himself a refill. “What are you talking about?” he asked, strolling toward the desk as he nursed the second cup.

“The men in St. Julien made a follow-up report, and we’ve had every researcher at our disposal digging through every scrap of information that can be found on that town. Mikos is holed up on an old family estate. Marlena and the kids are with him. Unfortunately, the place is a fortress. A medieval castle fortified with the latest in security technology.”

“Hmm. What do we have on it?” Bo asked with interest, coming to peer over John’s shoulder at the map spread across the desk.

“It’s right here on the outskirts of a small town, a village really, called St. Julien. Castle Chërnobog, named after the Slavic God of the underworld,” John said, his finger indicating a circled area nestled amid the Ural mountains.

“The God of the underworld?” Bo snorted. “Your telling me Alamain is hiding in Castle Satan?” he said, his amused cackle earning him another dirty look from John.

“Whoop it up, laughing boy. I’m sending you in first to scout the area,” John replied dryly as he spread a row of satellite surveillance photos on top of the map.

“Me?! I figured you’d be leading an assault team in first thing? What’s up?”

John stalked restlessly from the table, stretching his arms out and trying to work the kinks from his back. “Bo, I have been up all night going over the plans we have on this castle. The damn thing is built into the side of a cliff. They have more electronic equipment than NASA does, and it is all designed to detect the slightest movement on the cliff wall. The air currents prohibit a parachute drop. We’d have to go in under cover of night, and we’d lose two-thirds of our forces before we hit the ground. The only option that leaves is a frontal assault through the front door. I’ve got the manpower to blast our way through, but it wouldn’t be quick and it sure wouldn’t be quiet. Alamain would have more than enough time to do anything he wanted to with Marlena and the children. I’m not going to risk her life, Bo. We aren’t going in until I know that she will be safe. That means I need to get someone on the inside. Someone who can find out where they’re keeping her. Find out her schedule, how the guards are placed. Hell, Bo. You know the drill!”

“Yea, I know the drill,” Bo muttered distractedly, his attention fixed on the sketchy floor plans of the castle. “Why me? I’m surprised you aren’t going yourself,” he noted absently.

“He wanted to,” Jensen interjected, walking in the door bearing a tray laden with scones and fresh fruit. “I explained to him what a patently idiotic idea that was,” he continued acerbically. “It only took me two hours to talk him out of it, Mr. Brady,” he concluded, glaring at Bo.

“Oh, yea. I guess Alamain’s men might be on the lookout for you, huh John?” he said, looking up sheepishly.

“At the very least, some of his men have been shown picture of him. After all, John was Alamain’s apparent target. It would be suicide for him to try and enter the castle grounds. However, why he chose you in his stead...” Jensen trailed off, rolling his eyes.

“I wanted somebody I could trust,” John replied with a shrug, his hand raising to catch the apple Jensen deftly flipped in his direction. “And will you please stop trying to force feed me fruit!” he grunted, taking a bite despite himself.

“I don’t suppose you speak Russian?” Jensen asked, looking at Bo hopefully.

“No, I don’t speak Russian! Why the hell would I speak Russian!?”

“He can pretend to be mute,” John stated flatly, chucking the remains of his apple at Jensen’s head.

“I am not going to pretend to be mute!” Bo burst out.

“Don’t be moronic,” Jensen interjected.

“Christ, I don’t care how you do it! Figure something out, Jensen. Make him a God damn exchange student for all I care! I want his ass on-sight and I want it done by tonight, do I make myself clear!” John yelled, his patience at an end.

“Very clear,” Jensen replied tightly, his face betraying nothing as he bent to gather the coordinates for the nearest airport.

Bo stood in the tension filled silence, wondering if the two men had been going at it like this all night. The muscles in John’s neck seemed about to pop he was gritting his teeth so hard, and Jensen exuded all of the warmth of an iceberg. He searched for something to say to break the stalemate, but for once in his life, wisely chose to stay silent.

The moment stretched out until Bo was certain that violence would ensue. Finally, with a muffled sigh that must have taken every drop of air from his lungs, John stepped forward. Resting his curled fists on the top of the table, he leaned in toward Jensen who was studiously ignoring him.

“Jensen? I’m sorry. You are right. This is a lousy plan. Bo has no business going in there. But if I can’t go, then I need him to. Can you please try and understand that? I am going insane here waiting. The only way I can do it is if I have someone in there who cares about her just as much as I do. Now if anybody can pull this off, it is you. I am asking you, will you please do this for me?” The words were soft, but there was no doubting their sincerity.

Jensen finally glanced up, only to find himself caught in a pair of eyes so blue they seemed to burn. He allowed himself a ragged sigh, nodding his head reluctantly. “I will get him in, John. Someway, I will find a cover that will get him on the grounds. The first thing to do is get him to St. Julien. We have two men there now and between us we should find some way of getting him into the castle.”

With a nod of his own, John turned away, his hand reaching out to clutch briefly at Jensen’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he said quietly, before breaking the hold.

“Um.... Well, glad that that’s settled and everything,” Bo broke in uncomfortably. “But are we sure about this? I mean, what if somebody’s seen a picture of me? They have to have some intel.”

John gave a casual shrug. “There is no way they would suspect I would bring you in. As far as they know, we’re not even on speaking terms. Still… Just in case, it’s probably a good idea for you to lose the beard. Nobody will recognize you without the fur. Hell, as I remember, you’re just a baby-faced kid under all that stubble,” John said, a wicked grin suddenly lighting his face.

Bo straightened from his contemplation of the map, looking positively livid. “No way! You aren’t turning me into some yuppy wus boy!” he stated emphatically, shaking his head.

With a chuckle, John advised, “Shut up and count your blessings. It’s not like I’m making you cut that shaggy hair of yours.”

“Hell, you might as well cut off my balls,” Bo muttered under his breath in irritation, never knowing when to leave well enough alone.

“Uh uh! Those belong to Hope. I’m pretty sure she wants them back intact,” John teased, watching in amusement as Bo colored at the comment.

Jensen even managed a chuckle, as much at his enjoyment of Bo’s discomfort as anything. “I’m going to make the arrangements with the plane,” he cut in, the smile still on his face. “Be ready in three hours, Mr. Brady. I will send someone to fetch you when the car arrives.”

Feeling as if everything was spinning out of his control, Bo simply nodded reflexively, watching until Jensen was out the door. “You really think this has a chance of working?” he finally asked.

John shrugged, his fingers knotting together as his thumb caressed the surface of the ring he now wore, a nervous gesture of which he was unaware. “We know where she is, Bo. That’s what counts. I just want somebody near her until I can figure out what to do.”

Turning, he finally focused his attention on Bo. Seeing the uncertainty on his face, he forced a tight smile that never reached his eyes. “Bo, I don’t expect you to get her out. I will find a way to do that, you don’t have to worry. I just.... I need to know she’s not alone. Even if she doesn’t know you’re there, I will know it. Does that make sense to you?” John asked, watching Bo curiously.

Bo flashed a grin of his own. “Not really, but it doesn’t have to. I will be there for her. The reasons don’t much matter.”

“They matter to me. Thanks Bo. For everything.”

“Save it for when this is over. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to make a couple of calls home before I go incognito?”

Flashing a wry smile, John nodded. “Give my love to Hope. And Bo, before you take off, I want to see you. Okay?”

“Yea, sure. I’ll be down in a little bit. And John.... We will get Marlena back. I promise you that,” Bo said, watching the older man with concern.

“Oh, I know that, Bo. I will take that castle apart brick by brick if I have to. But the one thing I do know is that I will have her back,” John said softly, the look in his eyes sending a shiver of fear down Bo’s spine.

The feeling of unease lingered long after John had left the room. It wasn’t until he picked up the phone to dial Hope that he realized its cause. The look in John’s eyes had been the same one Stefano had every time he looked at Marlena. With perfect clarity, Bo realized that John intended to destroy anything and anyone who stood between him and the woman he loved.

Bo looked up, jarred from his thoughts by a knock on the door.

“Bo? You done in here? You really need to get packed,” John said, coming in to stand before the desk.

“Hmm. Oh. Yea, I was just.... I just said ‘bye’ to Hope,” he answered, his attention still not completely on the man standing across from him.

“Everything okay?” John asked, concern in his voice.

“Oh, yea. Everything’s fine. I just… miss her,” Bo replied softly, a distant look in his eyes. With a shake of his head, he forced a smile. “By the way, she wasn’t real pleased with me shaving off the beard.”

“She’ll get over it,” John said, smiling faintly.

“You better hope she does. I told her it was all your fault,” Bo answered with a grin of his own.

“Thanks so much,” was the dry response.

“My pleasure,” Bo said with a chuckle as he rose to his feet. “But you’re right. I really do need to get packed. What’d you want to tell me before I took off?”

“Nothing important,” John said with a shrug, his eyes shifting so he no longer had to face Bo’s penetrating gaze. “Just.... Bo, be careful. The Bradys have already lost one son to this thing. They can’t afford to lose another one. Watch your back, okay?”

“Hey, I thought that was your job,” Bo joked, slapping a hand against John’s shoulder as he moved by him toward the door.

“Bo, I’m serious,” John snapped shortly, reaching out with one big hand to stop Bo in his tracks. Holding the younger man in place, John faced him squarely, his eyes hard and worried. “Alamain is not a fool. He’s a very dangerous man. He was good enough to take Dimera. Good enough to get by me. You get careless, he’ll send you home in a box. I do not want to have to tell Mom and Pop I got their only remaining son killed. I sure don’t want to tell Hope she’s a widow. Do you understand me?”

“John, I will be careful, I promise. Don’t worry. We’re going to get Marlena and the kids out and then everybody is going to go home,” Bo answered, his voice softening in response to the concern he saw on the other man’s face.

Quirking a faint smile, John started to nod agreement, his movements slowing as he caught the glint of gold peeking from the open neck of Bo’s shirt. Wordlessly he reached out, pulling at the leather thong to expose the ring that dangled from its end. His fingers caressed the warm metal, surprised by the flash of jealousy that burned through him at the sight of his ring carried by another man. With an effort, he fought down the urge to rip it from Bo’s neck, instead allowing the band to fall reluctantly from his fingers.

“You told me not to lose it,” Bo said softly, the pain in John’s eyes unmistakable. “I won’t.”

Turning away, John gave a sharp shake of his dark head. “I don’t deserve the ring and I sure as hell don’t deserve her! But.... You take care of them both for me. You are the only one I would trust to do that, Bo. Don’t you dare let me down.”

Bo nodded his agreement, almost willing to let it go, but the conversation from the night before still worried at his mind. His stubborn nature interfered and he could not help but ask in exasperation, “What about when we get her back, John? What? You plan to just crawl into some dark hole and die? Have you forgotten what you promised her? You told her you were meant to be together. I was there when you swore it to her before God. I remember the words John, do you?”

“Of course I remember! Don’t be an ass,” John spat, his fists clenching in anger. His fingers ran across the face of the ring he wore, as if to remind himself of what he was. Almost to himself, he muttered softly, “‘They can take a human being and they can do a lot of things to him, but they can’t take away his love....’ It’s one of the few truths I told her.” With a grimace, he turned to again face Bo.

“I will never pretend I don’t love her, Bo. I can’t. But maybe sometimes when you love a person, the only way to prove it is to set them free. I will set her free before I risk hurting her again. That ring is a promise I can’t keep. I won’t wear it as long as that is true.”

With a shrug, Bo said simply, “I’ll keep it safe for you until this is all over. Nobody has to decide anything until then.”

“When this is over, you better think long and hard about whether you want to give it back, Bo. You better think about whether she is really better off with me in her life,” John answered coldly.

The words made Bo uncomfortable, reminding him of decisions he was not ready to make. “Look, I should really be going. I’ll radio in as soon as I know anything, okay?”

Dismissively, John replied. “Yea, you should go. Like I said, just be careful.”

“Scout’s honor,” Bo replied, holding three fingers up in a failed attempt to ease the tension he saw on other man’s face. It was a relief when he finally left the room and the feel of those dark eyes that had watched him go.

“Marlena! You are even more beautiful this morning than usual,” Mikos called out with a mocking smile as he rose from his chair. “Might I assume you have come to some conclusion considering my proposal? Is it too much to hope that that is what has brought a bloom to your cheeks?”

She had to make an effort not to roll her eyes. Instead, she focused on what had to be done to keep her family safe. “Where are the children?” she asked, approaching the dining table cautiously.

“I thought it might be better if we had some time in private. The girls did not seem to mind. They appear to share your overprotective instincts with regard to your son, and preferred to eat in the room with him.”

“I wish you would let me see him. At least let me make certain he wasn’t injured?!” she said, hating the begging tone in her voice.

“I only wish I could, Marlena,” he replied silkily, holding the chair out for her as she reluctantly took her seat. “However, that would require some level of trust between us. Perhaps if I knew you were committed to your new life here on the Alamain compound, I might be more willing to extend such trust.”

She ducked her head as he took his place at the head of the table, not wanting him to see the hatred in her eyes. Her voice was carefully neutral as she said, “This is happening very quickly, Mikos. You pressure me for an answer I am not ready to give.”

He merely chuckled, watching with pleasure as her cheek flushed pink, her body betraying her emotions in ways she would never suspect. “There is no pressure. You may take all of the time you need. However, I am afraid that it might be best if you not visit the children until your mind is clearer.”

“You can’t keep me from them!” she spat out in dismay, turning to look on him with disgust.

“Yes, I can and I will. At least until you can show me that you are willing to be… reasonable,” he replied, raising a glass to her in mock salute.

She turned away, unable to stand the sight of him. Clenching her hands tightly in her lap, she closed her eyes and tried to fight down a rising wave of nausea. Breathing deeply, her skin seemed to burn beneath the tracks of a single tear that managed to find its way down her cheek. She tried to remember Dimera’s words. It was simply a lie. One small lie. She could tell a lie to protect herself. To protect her children, she could do anything. Concentrating on her children, she managed to keep the tremor from her voice as she uttered the word he was waiting to hear. “Yes,” she whispered.

Mikos glanced sharply at her bowed form, certain that she would not have capitulated so easily. “What was that?” he prompted, a pleased smile creeping across his face.

Tilting her head, she met his gaze. Almost proudly, she squared her shoulders, her hand rising gracefully to dash the tear from her cheek. Golden eyes blazed condemnation as she coldly repeated, “Yes. I accept your proposal.”

He regarded her with new found admiration, this ice queen who now sat before him. He had thought that her acquiescence would signal her defeat. Instead, it was simply the start of the war between them. She would fight him every step of the way. She would still be fighting, even when he lay her down and made her his own. His blood quickened in anticipation, his breath catching in his throat as he realized that it could take years before the fire in those eyes was quelled. On shaky legs, he managed to stand. Clearing his throat slightly, he reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small box. “This is unexpected, Marlena. You once again exceed my expectations. Fortunately, I had this removed from the vault last night, in anticipation of this… happy moment.”

Moving smoothly forward to stand beside her chair, he reached down and took her unresisting hand in his. The muscles in her jaw clenched at his touch, the sight of it making him flush hot with desire. With an unsteady hand, he opened the black jeweler’s box and set it gently on the table. “It was my mother’s,” he said, his thumb gently caressing the back of her hand. “It is beautiful, is it not?”

“I am sure that she would be very proud of the way you have chosen to use it,” she answered, finally deigning to look up at him.

For an instance, anger hardened his features, and he pried the ring from its resting place. “Let us do this properly,” he said, fastening his eyes on hers and raising her hand slightly. “Marlena Evans, will you marry me?”

She started to pull away, her composure faltering. The look of amused condescension on his face stopped her, and she forced her body to hold still. She didn’t blink as she hissed the words out like a curse. “Yes, Mikos. I will marry you.”

It seemed to take an eternity for him to slide the gleaming band of gold over her finger, the metal itself biting coldly into her flesh. Light-headed, she watched from somewhere outside of herself as he gently raised her hand and touched his lips to the ring. “We will be together forever. I promise you,” he growled out, his hands rising to lightly frame the sides of her face.

She sat unmoving as his lips brushed against hers, their faint touch the most intimate of invasions. He held the pose for a moment more and then drew slowly back, searching her face for a reaction. Any reaction.

She gave him nothing. “May I see my children now?” she asked in that same distant voice, as if none of it had happened.

Vaguely irritated, he stepped back. “Of course you may,” he answered, the effort at courtesy, however feigned, beginning to wear thin. “Ivan! See to it that my fiancee meets with her children. I am certain that she is eager to share the happy news,” he finished, his voice turning ugly as he watched her expressionless face.

Stiffly, she rose to follow Ivan up the long staircase. Knowing Alamain’s eyes followed her every move, she resisted the temptation to wipe her hand across her lips. She would not allow him even that small satisfaction.

As she reached the door to her room however, her steps faltered. “Ivan? Could you allow me a moment in my room? There is something I need to do. Could you please come back for me in half an hour?” she beseeched, ashamed of her weakness but unable to fight it.

“Of course, Madam,” he replied, eyeing her curiously.

Her hand on the door knob, she looked back uncertainly. “You promise you will come back for me?”

“I give you my word, Madam,” he responded with a bow.

Only when the door pulled tight shut behind her did she allow the tears to begin to fall. With a vicious yank, she tore the ring from her finger and dropped it to the floor. Standing in place, she pulled the blue silk dress over her head, the soft material falling to puddle at her feet. Moving with an urgency she tried to ignore, she stripped every bit of clothing from her body. Completely naked, she bent to gather the strewn garments in her arms. With rapid steps she crossed to the fireplace, tossing her bundle onto the still flickering fire. She stood watching, her hands wrapped tightly around her shaking body, as the fragile silk disappeared beneath the hungry flames. When there was nothing left to burn, she finally permitted herself to enter the shower. Standing beneath the pounding streams of scalding water, she pretended that she could wash away the memories of his touch. 

-----

“You have a good run?” Jensen asked, looking up as John swung the office door open.

John nodded briefly, running a towel through hair still damp from the shower. “Yea, the ribs aren’t so sore today. I’m hoping that’s a sign you’ve found something useful for me to do.”

Slinging the towel over his shoulders, he slumped down onto the couch, snagging a cup of coffee from the table. Expectantly, he looked over at Jensen who was tucked behind the desk. “So? Any word from Bo? He’s been there two days already. You must have found him some way into the castle?” he prodded.

Jensen gave a casual shrug. “He should be on-sight as we speak. He radioed in last night that he would be taking the place of one of the grounds keepers today. I expect that he is in for a long day of shoveling snow.”

John leaned forward, a broad smile on his face. “Well don’t be so modest! Damn! Nice job. How did you manage it?”

Hesitating for a moment, Jensen reluctantly replied. “Well, it wasn’t exactly my doing, sir. Mr. Brady appears to have managed this on his own.”

Cocking his head, John gestured for him to continue.

“Yes, well it seems that Bo had our two operatives take him to the only Inn, which also serves as the town bar. After a few too many rounds of vodka, a poker game commenced between our men and some of the local laborers. Brady managed to draw several men who work at the castle into the game. He then proceeded to lose every cent he had on him. He estimated that it was around two a.m. by the time the only thing he had left to bet was a day’s labor. The man who won the pot, with a straight flush may I add, was both very drunk and one of the ground’s keepers at the estate. By four a.m. it had been decided that a bet was a bet. The other castle personnel agreed to pass Bo off as ‘Cousin Yuri’, the not too bright relative from some place even more backward than St. Julien. He should, at this very moment, be busy shoveling dirt and grunting moronically at anyone who asks him a question.”

Chuckling, John gave an admiring nod of his head. “The man does have a certain flare for this type of work,” he commented almost proudly.

“Remind me never to play poker with him. I suspect he cheats,” Jensen responded with much less enthusiasm.

“Lighten up! ‘Cheating’ may be a sin, Jensen. But ‘cheating well’, that is an art. Haven’t you learned anything from Stefano?”

“Mostly I’ve learned to keep my hand on my wallet,” Jensen replied dryly.

Shaking his head as if in dismay, John said sadly, “You were born without a soul. I swear, you have no appreciation for the pleasures in life.”

“Of course I do,” was the smug response. “For example, I am going to take great pleasure in the huge bonus you are going to give me when I tell you I may have found a way to get ‘you’ inside the castle.”

John’s casual demeanor dropped as the very thought set his adrenalin pumping. His right hand moved to rub against the butt of the handgun he wore strapped to his thigh as he rose swiftly to his feet. “Show me what you’ve got,” he said simply, moving to join Jensen at the desk.

“Look at this set of blueprints. It’s the most recent copy we could find. There’s no doubt that the place is laced with secret passages we don’t know about. Some have even been mentioned in historical documents. We don’t know where most of those passages are, but we do have the basic floor plan and it does show one passage that everyone knows about. See right here? It connects the castle to a cave in the side of the mountain,” Jensen said, his finger trailing a ragged blue line that ran from the castle to halfway down the mountain itself.

“Jensen, if everybody knows about this passage, I fail to see how it is going to do us any good,” John noted impatiently, wishing the man would just hurry up and tell him how to get to Marlena.

“Ah. That is a fair question. Well, first you must understand. The passage was originally created as a means of reaching a popular hot spring that was located deep in a cavern at the base of the mountain. Apparently, a young noble thought it inconvenient to have to walk down in the snow. A tunnel was hammered out from the castle all the way down to the cavern, and the hot springs were made the exclusive property of the castle.”

Warming into his tale, Jensen stood up before the blueprints and clasped his hands behind his back. Looking every inch the Oxford professor, he rocked back on his heels and began to lecture in earnest. “Now, you should realize that this all occurred over 200 years ago. For much of the past history, the caverns were private property, to be used only by the nobles. This all came to an end late in the 1920’s when the tunnel was used by an assassin making an attempt on the lord of the manor. The Duke survived, but the tunnels did not. Fearing the existence of the tunnels a weakness, the Duke ordered them sealed. Much to the irritation of both peasant and noble, the mouth of the cave was collapsed, and steel grates were installed to prevent use of the passages from inside the castle. As far as the official records are concerned, the tunnels are effectively useless. I highly doubt they would have even considered the old tunnels when the modern security equipment was installed.”

Trying not to let his irritation with Jensen’s meanderings show, John clasped his hands tightly behind his back in an effort not to throttle the man. There was simply no point in trying to rush Jensen when he was like this, and John knew better than to try. Forcing himself to sound patient, he noted calmly, “I still fail to see how the existence of a sealed tunnel helps us. There is no way we can get construction equipment into those mountains. Certainly not unnoticed. Jensen, will you please explain to me what I am missing!”

“Yes. Well, of course. You see, the official records don’t take into account the ingenuity of generation after generation of teenagers,” Jensen responded with a self-satisfied smile.

“Will you please get to the point!” John snapped, unable to prevent himself.

With a slight roll of his eyes, Jensen laid it out. “The two agents working with Bo? You know they went in as tourists wanting to explore off the beaten track. While one of the men stayed with Bo and his poker game, the other wandered off to see what he could discover from the younger crowd. For the cost of a couple of beers and a pack of cigarettes, several of the more disreputable teens were more than happy to clue him in on the best spots to check out. Seems there is a certain hot spring that the kids have been going to for as long as anyone can remember. Rumor has it that it used to be connected to the castle. The kids say that you can even see the steel door that leads into the tunnel. According to the teenage set, it is ‘the’ place to take a girl to go make-out.”

“We sure it’s the same hot spring?” John asked, trying not to get too excited by the prospect.

“Well, it’s the only set of hot springs reported in this area. That’s why the peasants were so unhappy about the nobles claiming it in the first place. It’s also probably why word never got back to the castle that the entry to the cavern had been cleared enough to pass. Nobody who used the spring wanted the word to get out. It would have just resulted in the springs being sealed off again.”

“Guess we should be grateful that the Alamains don’t hang out much with the teenage set, shouldn’t we,” John muttered distractedly, already intent on memorizing the location of the cave and tunnels. “Have our men checked this out?” he asked, different plans of attack running through his head.

“No,” Jensen replied with a shake of his head. “There hasn’t been time. I received the initial reports late last night, and I just found the floor plan showing the tunnel this morning. But, our agent did ask the kids about access. It seems that in the winter, the route from town is almost impassible. It would take forever on snowshoes, and our men haven’t found any means of transport that will get them there. The kids say it might be possible on a snowmobile, but the ground is pretty steep. And the men had already checked, there aren’t any snowmobiles available. As I mentioned, that little village is not exactly a tourist Mecca.”

With a frustrated sigh, John muttered, “Why can’t anything be easy?”

“I did find you a secret tunnel leading into the castle. What more did you want?” Jensen asked, sounding vaguely insulted.

Running a hand through his dark hair, John gave him a nod of acknowledgment. “No.... You’re right. You did good. Now… how long before you can arrange for a snowmobile and a transport truck?”

“I had a base established in the city of Stanburg as soon as St. Julian was identified as our target. It’s maybe a two-hour drive away from the village. Men and equipment are flowing in as we speak.”

A grim smile curved John’s lips, his muscles tingling with the promise of action. “Call the jet and pack up the papers,” he ordered curtly. “We’re out of here within the hour. I want this compound shut down and all operations moved to Stanburg, ASAP. While you’re at it, make sure we have a chopper at our disposal if we need it.”

His mind already focused on the equipment he would need to take with him, John was halfway to the door before he stopped suddenly and turned back to Jensen. “Oh. About that bonus? Whatever you want, it’s yours if this works.”

Jensen considered for a moment before asking, “What if it doesn’t work?”

With a shrug, John continued on out the door. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll probably all be dead and it won’t matter anyway.”

“Very reassuring,” Jensen muttered, but only after he was certain the door was shut.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up, Stefano,” Marlena said as she wearily flopped down on the edge of the big bed that dominated his room.

“Please come in,” Stefano responded wryly, looking up from the remains of his breakfast.

She merely rolled her eyes. “Don’t start with me. Not today. I just finished having a ‘lovely’ breakfast with my husband-to-be. He informed me that we will be making a formal announcement of our engagement at the holiday ball he hosts every year. Stefano, the ball is one week from Saturday!”

“I know. I just received my invitation last night. Actually, I can’t wait. You know how I love a masked ball!” Dimera responded almost jovially.

She glanced over at him with a hard look. “There is no way I can stand up in front of a room full of people and pretend like I want to marry that man! It’s all I can do not to vomit every time I am in his presence for more than a minute!”

“Marlena, calm yourself,” Stefano replied in a conciliatory tone. Pouring her a glass of juice, he rose from the table to approach the bed. “We will not be here by the time of the ball. Monday night, you and your children will be well on your way to safety. Just stay focused on that.”

Closing her eyes, she allowed herself a deep sigh. “Do you really think it’s going to work? Can we trust Vivian to follow through with this?”

Cocking his head thoughtfully to the side, he seemed to consider the question. “Hm. Well, Vivian is about as trustworthy as a barracuda, I grant you that. But she has much to gain from helping us, and the risk to herself is minimal. I expect that she will hold up her end of the bargain. Have you made any progress on your side of things?”

She shrugged, opening her eyes and taking the proffered glass of juice. “I try to be civil to Mikos. I eat every meal with him, just the two of us. He isn’t fooled. I’m certain he knows that I detest him. But… I think that simply adds to his enjoyment. And so far, he has allowed me to visit the children for an hour each day. I’ve convinced him that Eric may have cracked a rib, and he is allowing him to stay in the girl’s room, at least for now. But I’m not sure how much longer that will last, Stefano. We are going to be cutting this very close. And I’m still not certain how I am going to manage to get into the room with them come Monday night. If I can’t… the children will simply have to go without me,” she finished softly.

With a dismissive grunt, he rejected that possibility. “You will be in that room on Monday night, Marlena. It will simply take a little inventiveness on our part. Perhaps I can put a good word in for you with Mikos,” he said with a half-smile.

With a frown in his direction, she tried to force the orange juice down, her stomach recoiling at the very thought. Irritated, she gave up, sitting the glass down on the night stand. “You have been rather chummy with him. He seems very excited at the possibilities that arise from dealing with someone like you,” she said distastefully.

Making a show of feigned modesty, Stefano replied. “Actually, there is a great deal of potential in the pairing. With the Alamain contacts and industries, I could easily double the size of my empire. The benefits are such that it’s almost a shame John is going to kill him,” Stefano said, the smile on his face not reaching his eyes.

“Don’t be melodramatic, Dimera. Under the best of circumstances, you wouldn’t be forming a partnership. Neither one of you is trustworthy enough for that. Don’t pretend like you are making some big sacrifice here. It won’t earn you any sympathy from me,” she said, her patience worn thin from too many dealings with Mikos.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said with a shrug, deciding it was for the best that he had not mentioned the specifics of what Vivian would be getting from their little deal. Marlena did not need to know that John was the actual heir to the Alamain empire. Not now, anyway. He had no wish to argue with her, and he doubted that she would appreciate the plans he had for John once his identity as the heir to the Alamain holdings was revealed.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, he let the issue drop. “Altruism may not be my strong suite, but strategy is. If you are certain your moral fortitude will not be too offended by the idea of subterfuge, I do have some ideas on how you might arrange to be in the girls’ room on Monday night.”

She sighed in exasperation. “Stefano, when it comes to underhanded dealings, I bow to your mastery. What’s the plan?”

“You said that you had convinced Mikos that Eric was badly hurt. Is Eric that injured?”

“No. He’s fine. Just a few bruises that are already starting to fade. Why?” she asked, trying to make herself focus on her immediate problems.

“Keep playing up his fragile health. On Monday night, Eric will have a violent bout of nausea. As a concerned mother, you will insist on spending the night with him. I am confident of your ability to play the ‘hysterical woman’ if Mikos does not immediately go along with your suggestion,” he finished dryly.

Her eyes narrowed, but she ignored his last comment. “It might work, but Stefano, I don’t know if Eric can pull off being so ill that it raises Mikos’ concern. He will be suspicious as it is.”

Chuckling, Stefano reached into his pocket to pull out a thick cigar. “An old prison trick, Marlena. If you want to induce nausea, you simply mix the ashes from the tobacco in a cup of coffee. Drink it down, and ‘instant abdominal injury’. The effect will wear off in less than an hour, but that should be all the time you need to convince Mikos of the seriousness of the illness. And I am quite certain that an hour will be more than long enough as far as Eric is concerned.”

“It won’t hurt him, will it?” she asked, not certain that she liked this idea at all.

“Of course not. Believe me, it has been done successfully a thousand times. He will be ill for a short period, and then it will pass.”

“You are simply a font of information, Stefano,” she noted sarcastically. “Your knowledge of prison subculture is impressive. A true testament to the man you are.”

“Do you want my help or not?” he asked with a raised brow.

“There is a difference between ‘want’ and ‘need’. I need your help. I admit it. Are you satisfied?” she asked coldly.

“Ecstatic. Now, drink your juice,” he commented brusquely, attempting to change the subject. Wondering if now was the time to address his other worry.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” she snapped back. Realizing she was being petty, she added more gently, “I don’t feel like it, Stefano. Being around Mikos… I just don’t feel much like eating.”

Uncertain how to bring up the issue that had been plaguing him for days, he finally asked softly, “We’ve been here several weeks. Did you realize that? It’s been almost a month since the last night you and John spent together. The last night you made love?”

“That is none of your business!” she hissed, eyes going wide at the affront.

Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, Dimera glanced away to study the wallpaper on the far side of the room. “I only meant.... Marlena, have you considered? The nausea? You haven’t been able to hold down your breakfast for the past week at least. Is it possible that it’s morning sickness?”

“No!” she said emphatically, her hands moved to wrap protectively around her stomach. “It is not possible!”

“You are certain?” he asked quietly.

“I can’t be pregnant Stefano. If Mikos even thought I was carrying John’s baby, he would kill it! I know he would. I can’t be pregnant,” she trailed off. “I couldn’t bear to lose John’s child.”

“You have thought about it, haven’t you?!” he said in sudden realization.

Unable to face him as the tears rushed to her eyes, she looked down and whispered softly, “I’m late. I’m three days late. I’m never late, Stefano.”

The implications running through his mind, he distracted asked, “You are sure of this?”

A hysterical laugh burst from her lips and she brushed at the tears that suddenly streamed down her face. “Um hm,” she said, unable to prevent the smile that graced her quivering lips. “I can feel it, Stefano. I can feel his child, growing inside of me. I can’t lose this baby. I can’t!” she said, spitting the words out like a challenge as she pulled her legs up onto the big bed and huddled in on herself as if it would somehow protect the life she carried inside of her.

He watched as she sat sobbing, the painful gasps of air somehow seeming to tear at him. Awkwardly, he sank down to perch on the side of the bed next to her. He gingerly wrapped his arms around her shaking form, surprised that she didn’t immediately pull away. Almost grudgingly, she allowed her head to sink against his chest and for a long moment they simply sat together in silence.

At long last, a rumbling chuckle echoed deep in his chest.

“What’s so funny,” she asked, not quite ready to relinquish the comfort of human contact.

“I’m going to be a grandfather!” he commented softly, the pride in his voice unmistakable.

With a jerk, she pulled herself upright and shoved him away. “You are not going to be anything to this child!” she stated hotly. “You are not even going to see it, and you will most certainly not be a part of its life!”

He had recognized his mistake the moment he had uttered the words. But her reaction goaded him, and he could not help but reply. “Perhaps John will see things differently! You will not be the only one with a say in this child’s life!”

“John wants nothing to do with you!” she retorted. “Why do you pretend he is anything more to you than a tool? A weapon for you to use! He would have been better off if he had never known you, and there is no way he would ever let you near a child of his!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You’re right. He would have been so much better off if he had been raised by his ‘family’! After all, Mikos seems to have turned out so well,” Dimera shot back snidely. “You may not want to admit it, Marlena, but I am John’s father! Who do you think taught him to drive a car? To dance with a girl? Who do you think sat him down and had that little chat about ‘the birds and the bees’? Though obviously I should have stressed the importance of using ‘protection’ a little more and we wouldn’t be in this mess right now!”

She stared at him as if he were speaking in tongues. Unable to deal with the absurdities, she disintegrated into hysterical laughter, holding her chest in an effort to breathe.

“What?” he snapped.

As if in denial of the image, she shook her head back and forth. “You.... You telling John the ‘facts of life’....”

Disgruntled, he merely shrugged. “He was curious at a young age. His first experience...”

“I so don’t want to hear about it,” Marlena said, cutting him off. “Really. I don’t.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, red-faced.

Again a dry chuckle echoed through her and she gently rubbed her hands across her still flat stomach. “I want this baby, Stefano. I want it so badly. I won’t let anything threaten my child. Not ever.”

Standing awkwardly before her, he watched as she gazed lovingly down at the life she carried inside. A child. John’s child. For an instant, he felt a searing flash of jealousy and his thoughts went to a child that never was. He would not let that happen again. Crouching down, he braced his hand against the side of the bed. “This will work, Marlena. I promise you. You and your child will be safe. You will go home and lead a long and happy life. I will not allow anything to prevent that.”

“You will not be a part of that life. You do understand that?” she said firmly, finally bringing her eyes up to fasten on his.

“I understand completely,” he replied with a smile that never reached his eyes. 

-----

>“Mikos, he’s sick! My God, you can’t think he’s faking this!” she said, looking up at him with anger in her eyes.

The boy did look ill, doubled over on the bed as cramps shook his entire body. That pale face had a grayish cast, and he worried for the first time that he might have done permanent damage to the brat.

He had been so certain that the boy’s ‘convalescence’ had been a ploy. A plot of some sort to allow him to stay in the company of his sisters. He had allowed it to continue because he really couldn’t care less about the children and what they did. But the woman.... She had been on very good behavior this last week, not even uttering a word of protest when he had informed her of his decision to announce their engagement at the Christmas ball. She did it out of fear. He had no illusions about that. He had no illusions about her at all. Fantasies.... Well, that was another issue.

He stared down on her, a patronizing smile on his face. The way she hovered above the boy, as if somehow she could protect him. He could break her slender body on a whim, yet still she crouched before him, daring him to deny her. He toyed with the idea. It has been his intent to have him returned to his own room tonight anyway. The little charade of his injury had gone on long enough, and he had no wish to allow Marlena to grow complacent. She had to learn that any kindness he chose to grant her could just as easily be taken away. Removing the boy would have reminded her that even so small a thing as where her children slept was a decision that was his to make. Sometimes the smallest cruelties were the most fun.

The brat gave a low moan, breaking Mikos from his reverie. Damn! He did not want to have to waste his time dealing with another man’s sick children. He did not want them here at all, but he could abide their presence as long as he was not forced to look at them. Trying to feign concern, he asked, “Is it serious?”

She turned away from him, her hand going out to gently push back the boy’s sweat dampened hair. “I think it’s a stomach virus, Mikos. I don’t think you broke any bones, if that is what you are worried about. But I should stay with him. Make certain that is all it is. Please?” she begged, forcing herself to look up at him.

He grunted in irritation, not wanting her to think he gave a damn what her wishes were, yet worried about the boy all the same. Her children were his only weapon. With them, he could push her to do so many things. But if he pushed too hard, if he broke one of her precious babies, he feared that she might end their little game. He would not allow that to happen, at least not until they had a child of their own, binding her to him for all eternity.

The vision brought a smile to his face and with a shrug he reached out to run a finger down the line of her jaw. The play of the muscles in her neck was intoxicating, and it was all he could do not to allow his fingers to continue to caress that soft skin. Reluctantly, he drew back. “You know how important your children’s safety is to me, Marlena. Of course I will allow you to stay the night. But… after this, you will owe me a favor,” he said in a voice as smooth as silk.

She did not deign to reply, her defiance earning her a chuckle as he made his way to the door. “I look forward to seeing you at breakfast, my lady,” he mocked, stopping to give a half-bow from the doorway. His eyes fixed on hers, he pulled the door tightly shut, the click of the lock his final comment.

“Mom, is he going to be all right?” Sami whispered anxiously from her perch on the bed opposite Eric.

“He’s going to be fine,” Marlena assured distractedly, her attention on her son as the cramps continued to convulse his slender frame. Damn Stefano and his plan. She never would have allowed Eric to drink the foul mixture if she had known just how bad his reaction would be.

“I’m already feeling better,” Eric muttered, looking up at them to flash a weak grin. “But I don’t think I will ever have the urge to smoke cigarettes, that’s for certain.”

“Honey, are you sure you’re going to be able to walk?” Marlena asked as she ran her hand over her son’s back in a soothing motion.

He nodded, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. His pale face hung down as if the effort were too much for him, but he struggled determinedly to his feet. “The cramps eased off almost half an hour ago, Mom. If it means we’re getting out of here, I’ll run if need be.”

“Go easy, sweetie. We’ve got almost an hour before Ivan gets here. You should rest,” she replied, relieved that Eric wasn’t feeling quite as bad as she had feared, but worried still by the grayish cast to his features.

“Just want to wash up,” he answered, walking slowly in the direction of the lavatory.

Her concentration on her son’s slow progress was interrupted as Carrie came over to sit next to her. Taking one of her mother’s hands in her own, Carrie asked softly, “Do you really think this is going to work, Mom?”

Flashing her daughter a quick smile, she squeezed her hand and replied, “It had better.”

Three days he had sat waiting for the supply drop. Three endless days he had spent separated from her only by this god damn sheet of iron. He could wait no longer. His time was up. He could feel her need for him calling out to him from somewhere deep inside. She needed him. She needed him now.

With a sudden flash of panic he grabbed the heavy metal tank in both hands and slammed it into the half-cut doorway. The impact of metal on metal boomed out like a church bell, echoing off of cold stone walls until the very air itself seemed about to crack. Again and again he rammed against the door, his screams rising to match the rolling thunder of his blows. Finally the dented tank slipped from numbed fingers and he fell to his knees, looking up with hate filled eyes at the source of his frustration. Iron alone could not keep him out. He would not let it. Putting every ounce of energy he had left into it, he gathered his feet beneath him and drove his shoulder hard into the mocking face of the metal. He had to get to her. He had to get to her now.

The metal didn’t budge, the laws of physics indifferent to the needs of one mere human. Sobbing for air, he allowed his legs to collapse, his body sliding down the rough surface until he crouched, kneeling on the ground, his unshaven face hollowed and empty. She was slipping away from him and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

With a sudden cry he slammed a heavy fist against the unyielding metal, as if rage alone would achieve what muscle and fire could not. He was too weak. He was going to lose her because he was too weak to stop it. A low moan rattled through his chest as he forced himself to his feet and stumbled toward the last of the tanks. The only thing left for him to do was keep going. Keep moving. Keep searching. She would be behind the metal wall. She had to be. And if she wasn’t, he would burn the castle and everyone in it.

She paced the room, wondering for the millionth time whether something had gone wrong. Ivan should have been here by now. He should have been here an hour ago! God! She could not believe that she was relying on a plan by Stefano Dimera of all people when it came to the safety of her children!

“Mom? What time is it? Shouldn’t we have heard something by now?” Sami asked, looking up at her from the bed she now shared with her sister.

Forcing a smile to her face, she tried not to let her own worries infect her children. They had enough to deal with as it was. “It’s almost 11, Sami. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute now. It’s going to be okay. Really,” she soothed, hoping the words sounded more certain than they felt.

“We looked all over the room, Mom. I don’t think there is a secret passage,” Eric commented uneasily.

Marlena glanced over at her son, sitting in the middle of one of the beds with his arms wrapped around his legs. Though he was still a little pale, she was relieved that he finally seemed steady and alert. When the time came, he would be ready to move. If the time came…

Before Marlena could form a reply, a cultured voice echoed out at them from the direction of the fireplace. “Secret passages are supposed to be hidden. It’s what makes them ‘secret’.”

“Ivan!” Marlena exclaimed, running over to peer into the big fireplace. Where a brick wall used to be, there was now the grim visaged face of the young butler.

“We are running very late, Madam. Dinner ran over and the van’s battery died. I really think that it might be best if we wait for...” Ivan trailed off lamely as Marlena stepped across the smoldering remains of the fire and brushed by him without so much as a glance in his direction.

“Let’s go, kids. We are getting out of this madhouse right now!” she called, sticking her hand out to help Sami through the awkward passageway.

“Which way, Ivan?!” the tall blond snapped at him, and for an instance he was at a loss for words.

Feeling that the entire situation was rapidly spinning beyond his control, Ivan simply swallowed hard and pointed. “The way out is to the right, Madam. But really… I think it might be best...”

He gave up trying to argue as the woman efficiently relieved him of the flashlight and started off down the passageway, her children following close behind. With a resigned sigh, Ivan shoved the passage door shut and quickly followed. At least he had had plenty of practice at taking orders from women in his tenure with the beautiful Ms Vivian. He didn’t know why he had thought his dealings with Dr. Evans should be any different.

Jogging past the swiftly moving children, he finally caught up with the tall blond. “Um, Madam. We have to take a short detour through the kitchen in order to reach the outside. It should be empty at this time of night, but perhaps it would be best if I take the lead?”

“Of course, Ivan. Just… hurry,” she answered simply, her apprehension rising with each second they spent in this house. Something was going to go wrong. She could feel it. Oh, dear God, she prayed silently. Please let my children be okay.

After several minutes of silent walking, Ivan pulled to an abrupt halt. Glancing over at the determined woman, he tried one last time to postpone the inevitable. How on earth did he ever allow Vivian to talk him into this?! “Madam, once we leave the passageway, there will be no turning back. The snow was starting to fall heavily before I came in to get you and we are already running late. Perhaps it really would be best if we waited another week before we...”

“Ivan, I cannot stay in this house one more minute, much less one more week. If the snow is falling, it will cover our tracks. No one will see us as when we make a run for the van. Correct?”

“Correct, madam,” he reluctantly replied, recognizing that there was no way he was going to get out of doing this.

“Then let’s go!” she whispered fiercely.

With a heavy sigh, he held a finger to his lips and lifted a latch on the paneled doorway that led into the pantry. Silently, his charges filed in behind him. Trekking soundlessly through the empty kitchen, they were quickly out the back door and running through the snow shrouded night.

Mikos paced irritably within the confines of his private office. It was almost midnight, yet still he could not sleep. Something was not right within his household. He could feel it. Could sense the wrongness, pervading the very air of the castle.

Maybe it was the woman. Somehow, all of his thoughts now seemed to be of her. Maybe he had been wrong to allow her to stay with the children. The boy did not need her. He hadn’t needed her after the beating and he most assuredly did not need her now. They were manipulating him. Playing on his sympathies. He could not allow her to think that she had such power over him. He would not allow her even that small hope.

“Sir? Is there a problem?” a voice called from the doorway, interrupting his train of thought.

“Dimitri? What are you doing here?” Mikos replied shortly, looking over at his head of security.

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just making my final rounds for the night and saw the light was still on,” the big blond responded, taking a rapid step back in reaction to the angry look on his boss’ face. Mikos had a quick temper and Dimitri had no desire to incur the man’s wrath.

“Anything amiss? Marlena and her children, they are secured?”

“I saw nothing unusual, sir. The room was quiet and the door still locked. Do you want me to check again?” Dimitri answered, hoping fervently that he hadn’t missed anything. Mikos seemed tense, even more suspicious than usual. Now was not a good time to be making any mistakes.

“She’s playing with me, Dimitri. That woman is up to something. I can feel it. She’s not the type to just passively accept her fate, yet this whole week she has gone out of her way not to insult me. Not to anger me. She’s up to something, and I think it is time I teach her the folly of resisting me,” Mikos said, talking as much to himself as to Dimitri.

With a sudden shake of his dark head, he nodded for Dimitri to follow him. “Let’s go,” he ordered tightly, moving quickly out the door. Confidently he strode from his room, moving rapidly through deserted corridors as he made his way to the children’s bedroom. Both the boy and his mother would be returned to their own rooms immediately. It would be their punishment for thinking they could lie to him. Manipulate him. They would learn the hard way, that was something he would never allow.

He came to a silent halt before the big wooden door and quietly inserted his key. With a sudden lunge he swung the door open, hoping to surprise them in the plotting of some mischief. An empty room greeted him. For a moment he stood frozen, stunned by the site. She could not be gone. She could not.

“Find them,” he hissed.

“Sir?” Dimitri questioned hesitantly from behind, unable to see around the big form blocking the doorway.

Whipping around, Mikos slapped the man hard across the face. “Find them!” he roared, his face twisted in fury.

His hands clenched tightly at his sides, Mikos stepped back to allow the now thoroughly frightened man to scurry into the bedroom. Wordlessly he watched as the younger man ran through the room to check the bathroom, radioing for backup as he did so. As Mikos had already known, he found no sign of the missing family. The sound of running feet jarred Mikos from his contemplation of the pain he would visit on his security chief if he allowed the prisoners to escape, and he stood aside to allow a platoon of guards entry into the room.

“Well?” he asked, his calm voice an obvious threat to those who knew him well.

Pale-faced, Dimitri stood in the center of the room, anxiously attempting to find some way of deflecting the big man’s anger. His eyes lit on the dead remains of the fire and he noted the scattered ashes and faint signs of a footprint on the hearth itself. Oh, no. It wasn’t possible. It simply wasn’t possible that they had left through the tunnels. Almost afraid to prove himself right, he moved cautiously over to the mantel and twisted one of the decorative florals in a clockwise motion. He felt more than heard the release of the lock and tentatively bent down to push against the warm bricks at the back of the firebox. Smoothly the bricks fell away from his touch, revealing the dark recesses of one of the many passages that dotted the old castle. Christ! He was a dead man.

Straightening, Dimitri ordered his guards down the passageway and then called for additional men to blanket the courtyard. As an afterthought, he ordered that the men stationed in town be alerted and that the only road out of town be blocked off. He would seal the perimeter and then he would have his men go over every inch of territory until they were found. They had to be found. It was his only hope of staying alive. Finally, there was nothing more he could think to do and he forced himself to turn and meet the dark eyes of his employer. Swallowing convulsively, he finally managed to croak out the words. “We will find them sir. They can’t have managed to go very far.”

Mikos shrugged away the news. “You told me you had secured that passageway, Dimitri. It appears that you lied. How am I to know that you aren’t lying to me again?” he questioned softly, stepping into the room and silently closing the gap between them.

Dropping his eyes, Dimitri studied the carpet beneath his feet. “Sir, I had the deadbolt installed myself. That passageway was locked from the outside. If they got out through the passageway, they had to have had help. I swear to you, this is not my fault.”

Reaching out, Mikos placed his forefinger beneath the man’s chin and forced his head up. Finally, Dimitri raised his eyes to meet Mikos’ own. The man was actually trembling beneath his touch, and Mikos finally allowed himself a small smile. Gently, he stroked his thumb down the side of the man’s neck, following the path of the jugular vein. The blood pumped wildly beneath the fragile skin as Mikos watched the gray eyes cloud with panic. Finally, Mikos dropped his hand and leaned in. Very softly, he said, “If they are not back before the night is over, I am going to make you scream before I kill you.” Without another word, he turned and stalked from the room.

His mind knew that she was far above him. He knew the tunnel itself must snake through the mountain for more than a mile before it reached the lofty peaks on which the castle sat. His mind had expected nothing but the empty blackness which it had received. But his heart… His heart ‘needed’ her. It ‘wanted’ her. And his heart hurt because she was not there. With a muttered curse at his weakness, he turned to gather his weapons. He would have her back. He would have her back tonight, and when he did, the hurt would stop.

His face expressionless, he yanked a black T-shirt on, the thin cotton instantly plastering itself to his sweat-slickened body. He tied his lank hair back and smudged his face and arms a sooty black that would blend in with the shadows. Finally, he checked the knife in its sheath on his right leg, the Glock nine millimeter he wore around his waist. Almost as an afterthought, he grabbed the pump action 12 gauge and slung it across his shoulders. In close quarters, the shotgun would tear through flesh and bone like a meat grinder, messy but effective. Finally, he scooped up the flashlight and tried to focus his thoughts on the mission. Tried to dismiss the fear as he thought of the risk to Marlena and her children. Tried to ignore the raging desire for revenge and destruction that burned through him as he thought of the men who had taken her. He searched for the calm center that would allow him to move without hesitation, to act without thought. With slow deep breaths, he focused on the mission. Go in. Get her out. Kill anyone who gets in the way.

He smiled an evil grin and decided he was as centered as he needed to be. With the flick of his thumb, the beam from the flashlight blazed out, cutting through the darkness that held sway behind the iron wall. Careful of the still glowing edges of the jagged hole, he slipped silently inside the tunnel and began to make his way through the darkness. And if the fear and the anger were still with him, then so be it. It would simply make it that much sweeter when he stuck his knife into Mikos Alamain’s heart.

Plunging through knee deep snow, she clutched Sami’s hand tightly in her own and glanced over her shoulder to make certain that Carrie and Eric were right behind them. The cold wind bit through the thin material of her jeans and the wool sweater she wore seemed to do little to keep out the frigid air. But despite the frozen landscape, a smile lit her face. They were free. At least for this moment, they were free from the men who had sought to control her life for far too long. Her hand dropped to her belly as she swore to herself that the child she carried within would never know the fear and pain that her other children had been forced to endure. They were going home. Going back to the man she loved. And she knew in her heart, he would never allow anyone to threaten their family ever again.

The dark shape of a panel van loomed up before them and they rushed to climb through the door that Ivan yanked hurriedly open. Scampering into the back, Marlena pulled her children to her and they huddled on the floor, surrounded by baskets and crates. Shivering with the cold, she wrapped her arms around her children and prayed that they would make it through the castle gates.

The van’s engine roared to life and Ivan allowed himself a brief glimpse back at his charges before he shifted into first gear. “The guards don’t search the van. Just stay down and stay quiet and they will never know you are there,” he whispered over his shoulder.

Driving slowly through the now raging snow storm, Ivan eased to a stop before the main gate. With a curt gesture to the cold sentry, he motioned for the gates to be opened. It seemed to take forever before the ponderous doors cleared the roadway, but finally Ivan was able to pull through and begin the long drive down the winding mountain road. “We’re clear,” he finally whispered out, as the lights of Castle Chërnobog finally faded behind the thick curtain of snow.

Stumbling forward, Marlena settled herself into the passenger seat. “Drive faster,” she hissed urgently, the sense of being pursued making the small hairs rise on the back of her neck.

“The roads are too bad, Dr. Evans. We shouldn’t be out here at all,” Ivan replied, though he found himself picking up speed anyway as the woman’s anxiety began to infect him as well.

“Man, it’s really coming down out there,” Eric said, standing up and bracing himself against the side of the van in an effort to see where they were going.

The van suddenly slewed hard to the side, wheels spinning for traction as the vehicle almost skidded off the road. With a ‘thump’ Eric sat down hard.

“Damn!” Ivan exclaimed, the rising fear overpowering his typical reserve.

“Oh God! Be careful!” Marlena called out, grabbing for the dashboard in an attempt to keep her seat. “Are you guys okay?” she asked worriedly, trying to get a glimpse of her children.

“Yea, we’re fine. But I think I’ll sit down for the rest of this little trip,” was Eric’s wry response.

“Sorry madam,” Ivan muttered under his breath, his face pale with the strain of trying to keep the van on the road and moving. For long minutes they continued in silence, the only sound the occasional growl of the tires as they fought for purchase on the slippery road. Finally, the lights of town could be seen faintly gleaming through the hazy darkness. The road smoothed and Ivan was able to pick up speed. With a sigh of relief, he began to hope that this idiotic plan might actually have a chance of working. As he plowed through the center of town, he even managed a reassuring nod in the direction of his frightened passengers. He turned the last corner at the edge of the small village, making good time on the only road out of town. A smile was on his face as he thought of how pleased Ms. Vivian would be with his performance. At the sudden glare of search lights, the smile disappeared.

Marlena gave a sharp gasp as searing white light lit the interior of the van. Squinting, she could almost make out the faces of the dark forms that seemed to be surging toward the van. With a sudden lurch, she slammed forward against the seatbelt, and she realized that Ivan was hurriedly shifting the van into reverse. Her mind refused to recognize the significance of the roadblock and she simply held on tight to her seat and concentrated on surviving this moment. “Hold on!” she screamed out to the children, her heart hammering against the walls of her chest as the van veered sharply and slid around the corner on its way back toward the main street.

The rear end of the van fish-tailed wildly and Ivan yanked hard on the wheel in an attempt to straighten out. Almost as if it were in slow motion, the van continued to glide sideways, spinning in a 90 degree arc before coming to a crashing halt against the side of a building. The last thing Marlena heard was the scream of a child and then the shatter of glass as her head impacted against the side window.

A metallic glint winked at him from out of the darkness, and the shotgun found its way into his hands as if by its own accord. For a long moment John waited in silence for the whisper of movement that would signal his target. Whatever was ahead of him, the shotgun would bring down. But there was no sound, no hint of life. Ever so slowly, he eased forward, the evenly spaced bars of the gate becoming discernable as his flashlight played across the mouth of the tunnel. A door. Another damn door. God these people were paranoid, he thought with a grim smile. All that worry, and it wasn’t even going to do them any good. For a people so afraid of dying, they should really learn to pick their enemies more carefully.

His ears strained for the slightest sound as he crouched down and fixed his gaze on the lock on the door before him. Unlike the metal wall, this was a simple barred door, hinged on one side and held closed on the other by a thick loop of chain and a padlock. He considered blowing the lock. One shot would be more than enough. But he was close now. Too close to risk the noise of gunfire. Besides, if he destroyed the lock it would be as good as a sign telling possible pursuers exactly where he had gone. No. No need for gunfire. It was better to cover his tracks.

Silently cursing the delay, he pulled out a pen light and a small set of picks, fumbling through the bars in order to get to the lock on the other side. With steady fingers, he teased the tumblers into position and carefully popped the lock. The lessons of a misspent youth were sometimes beyond price, he thought ruefully.

Stepping through the open doorway, he pulled the gate carefully shut behind them, looping the chain around the bars in a way that would fool any casual examination. He found himself at a crossroads, the passageway splitting. With a glance at his compass, he chose the southern branch and moved out as rapidly as possible given the need for stealth.

Bo had come through for him. In one of their few lucky breaks, Bo’s turn as a grounds keeper had payed off. While he had shoveled snow and mucked out horse stalls, he had also managed to catch a glimpse of the object of their search. A blond haired beauty, gazing out through the leaded windows of the castle. The other workers had said she was there every morning and every night. The same window, day after day, staring off into the distance as if looking for someone who would never come. It had been Marlena at that window, Bo was certain. The same window, every day and every night. Third floor, southwest corner of the castle, third window from the end. It had been all the information John would need. He only wished that there had been some way to get a message to her. Some way to let her know he was close. Still, they had been lucky Bo had gathered as much information as he had.

Biting back his impatience, John tried to guess at where he was in relation to her room. The passageway snaked round and round, always seeming to move upward. He had to be close by now.

A sudden flash of light lanced out at him from the side, and he dropped instinctively to the floor, cutting his flashlight and holding his breath. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness and he realized that the light came from a tiny hole in the wall, set just about eye level. The builders of the castle had evidently had a fine appreciation for the art of spying.

Cautiously, he rose from the floor and approached the eye hole. Blinking his eyes against the glare, he finally managed to focus his gaze on the sole occupant of a big room, the study if he had to guess. His mind was already matching his position to the floor plans of the castle as he noted that there was something familiar about the man who stood in the room. Short blond hair, pinkish face, a build like a Russian weightlifter. Damn, it was that asshole from the cliff top. At least the son of a bitch didn’t look too happy, pawing frantically through a pile of papers on the top of the desk that sat in the center of the room. If John had anything to do with it, the man would be even more unhappy before the night was over.

Dismissing the hireling from his thoughts, John moved stealthily on down the hall. One more floor up, and then he would have to start searching for some exit from the passageway. He had to make sure he was close to her, there was simply no way he could hope to roam the halls of the castle for any length of time without being discovered. Inconspicious, he was not.

Moving more slowly now, he studied the blank walls that surrounded him. Gods, she was close. He would almost swear that he could smell her perfume. He grit his teeth as he thought of her locked away inside this stone giant of a cage, and all because of him and the men who hated him. Briefly, he wondered what he had done to push Mikos Alamain to such extremes. Stolen his money? Killed his son? Fucked his lover? All viable options. Damn! If you were going to do something to drive a man to want you dead, it was only right that you should remember it. Of course, in the long run, Alamain’s reasons didn’t really matter. What mattered was that Mikos Alamain had made the fatal mistake of involving Marlena in his schemes. For that, there could be no forgiveness.

His musing about Alamain died abruptly as his light picked out the frame of a small doorway set low in the wall. Crouching down, he noted the dusty footprints that led out from the opening. Soot and ash, the scuff marks of many feet shimmering faintly against the gray stone of the floor. Somebody had been through here. Lots of somebodies and the marks were still fresh.

He killed his light and scanned the darkness with eager eyes, searching for the telltale sign of light through a peephole. There was nothing. His stomach clenching in anticipation, he clipped the light to his belt and drew his knife. Shotgun in one hand, knife in the other, he silently twisted the handle on the doorway before him. The wall swung outward on silent hinges and he stared into the void of yet another dark hole. Fuck! This was getting old.

Returning the gun to its place between his shoulder blades, he very carefully inched his way through the narrow passage. He cringed at the scuffling sounds his passing produced, and by the time he crouched down on the soft mat of a woven rug and flipped his flashlight back on, he fully expected to face every guard in the place. Instead, he found an empty room. He wasn’t sure whether to be irritated or relieved.

Cautiously he rose to his feet, his light flitting across the darkened room. It had been ransacked. Furniture was tipped over, clothing strewn all about. And the scent of Shalimar still hung in the air. She had been here. She had been here this very night.

He tore through the room, hunting for some sign of where she had gone. Searching for some clue that would lead him to her. Nothing. There was nothing.

Based on the clothes in the closet and those that littered the floor, he assumed that the children had been held in this room. The only sign of Marlena’s presence was the faint smell of the perfume that was even now fading away. Ignoring the implications of the demolished bedroom, he made his way swiftly to the door. His only hope was that she was still in her room. It had to be close. A room or two away. She would be there. She had to be.

Silently he bent down, easily popping the lock on the bedroom door. Ever so slowly, he cracked the open the door and studied the dimly lit hallway. Empty. Waiting for him. Beckoning him. Directly across from him was another door, a large iron key dangling from a hook beside it. He dismissed the door. It could not be her. Not if Bo was right, and the woman in the window was Marlena. Her room would be on this side of the hallway. A door away. That was all.

Barely daring to breathe, he eased slowly out the door and pulled it shut behind him, pausing only a second to make certain it was locked tight. Gliding across the carpeted floor, he halted before the next door down. Gently he twisted the handle, unsurprised when it refused to budge. He fought down the urge to simply kick in the door, pulling the lockpick from his back pocket instead. He didn’t even have time to open the case before the sound of heavy foot steps echoed down the hallway.

Damn! No time. They were coming fast. He took the only route still open to him, stepping across the hallway and ripping the dangling key from its hook. Trying to be quiet, he hurriedly slid the key into the lock, grimacing at the faint ‘click’ of the deadbolt. Replacing the key, he stepped into the darkened room and pulled the door softly shut just as the guards rounded the corner.

Slouching against the doorway, he tried to slow his breathing in order to hear what was happening in the hall. He was completely unprepared when a deep voice muttered out from across the room.

“Who’s there?”

“Is there any permanent damage?” Mikos asked coldly, staring down at the woman whose still form lay across the chaise lounge.

“A mild concussion is all it appears to be, Mr. Alamain. Her pupils are slow but reactive and I had to put a few stitches in, but she should be fine in the morning. Just in case, I’ll do a blood work-up, but I see no real cause for concern,” the elderly doctor replied.

“Wake her up.”

“It might be best if she is not put under any additional strain,” the doctor noted as he obediently bent down and began slapping lightly at the pale face of the woman.

“Where she is concerned, I will say what is ‘best’,” Mikos replied shortly, his temper barely held in check. For a moment, he considered taking over the job of slapping her into wakefulness, but he feared that once he started hitting her he wouldn’t be able to stop. The pain he would visit on her should be so much greater than that. Before he was through with her, she would wish that she were dead.

A low moan issued from pink lips, and her head fell to the side in an attempt to avoid the hands that struck at her. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open and she found herself staring up at a face she didn’t recognize. “Where am I?” she muttered weakly.

“You are home, my love. Back where you were always meant to be,” Mikos’ deep voice growled out at her.

The doctor discretely moved away and Marlena was left to face the man who she had come to hate with every fiber of her being. “My children. Where are they? Are they all right?” she asked, panic beginning to filter through her dazed mind as she realized that the children were no longer with her. Instinctively her hand dropped to cradle her stomach, and she could only hope that Mikos did not notice the significance of the gesture. Oh dear God, she prayed silently. Please let the children be safe. Please let my baby be safe…

“Ah, yes. The children. I believe that they were becoming a distraction. Your little attempt at defiance suggests that you have not truly given yourself over to the idea of becoming my wife. Perhaps you will be better able to concentrate on fulfilling your duties to me if your children are no longer around.”

She swung her legs over the side of the couch, bracing herself with her hand in order to remain upright. “What have you done with them?” she hissed up at him, struggling to keep the darkness from closing in on her thoughts.

“I haven’t ‘done’ anything with them. Not yet, anyway,” Mikos replied with a menacing stare.

“If you hurt them...”

“I will do anything I choose to do, Marlena. It is time you learned that. And for now, I no longer have any desire to see or hear your sniveling brats! They are gone, Marlena. I had Dimitri ship them out to a different location as soon as you were brought back. They will stay gone until you learn exactly who is master here. When you learn to please me, I will perhaps allow you to see them again.” He gazed down on her angry face, waiting for the fear to take its hold. She was alone now. All alone. He did not think that she was a woman who could survive on her own. He was wrong.

She pushed herself to her feet, swaying dizzily but holding herself upright. This, this monster thought he could take her children from her? He thought he could take John? He thought he could destroy her life and then she would come crawling to him on her knees?! She gazed up at him, his smug smile making her see red. Lunging forward, she spat directly in his face.

Mikos took a stunned step backward as she screamed out at him. “Nothing! I will give you nothing! Understand that anything you take from me will be by force! And I swear to you, if you ever hurt my children, I will see to it that you never go to sleep without the fear that someday I will come to you and I will make you pay. I swear this Mikos. I swear it on my life!”

“You bitch!” he roared, his open hand slamming her across the face. The force knocked her back against the sofa, her limp body tumbling to the floor. “You will beg to be with me before I am done with you!” he thundered, grabbing the front of her sweater and jerking her up to face him. She hung unresisting in his grip, her eyes rolled back in her head. Frustrated, he roughly shook her slim body, his fingers tangling in her long hair as he tried to force her to look at him. Finally, he gave up trying to rouse her. Staring down at her unconscious face, he whispered softly, “I will make you beg,” and then he crushed his lips against hers in a kiss that drew blood. Breathing heavily, he drew back and allowed her body to fall to the couch.

Wiping at his lips, Mikos turned to the guard at the door. “Take her back to her room. Lock her in and bring me the key. No one is to see her but me. No one is to talk to her. No one is to feed her. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir!” the frightened guard replied.

Turning back to the woman who lay across the couch, Mikos ran a possessive finger down the line of her graceful neck. “A few days alone, my beauty, and you will be screaming for me to let you out. I ‘will’ teach you to beg. It is only a matter of time.”

“Who’s there?” the low voice called groggily.

With the barest whisper of sound, John was across the room, his hand clamping down on the unseen mouth as his blade leaped forward to press against the soft skin of the man’s neck. He stopped the knife an instant before it drew blood as deep in his mind the voice finally identified itself. Dimera. Dimera’s voice, calling out to him from the shadows.

“It’s me,” John whispered, his voice coming out in a harsh rasp that was barely recognizable as human. Reluctantly, he pulled himself back from the heavy form on the bed, trying to stop his body’s shaking as the adrenalin coursed through him. The dim light from a table lamp suddenly cut on, dispelling the darkness and allowing his eyes to confirm what his ears already knew. Stefano Dimera, sitting up in bed and looking over at him in wide-eyed surprise. For a moment, his hand clenched more tightly around the hilt of his knife. He wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill him for the simple fact that he was not Marlena. A low growl rumbled in his throat as his mind tried to see past the raging bloodlust. God, he wanted to kill him.

For a moment, Stefano didn’t recognize the figure that stood before him. Crouched like an animal in the center of the room, bright eyes blazed out at him from a darkened face. Eyes and teeth, bared in a feral grin. It was all that he could see of the creature that stared back at him, hunger in its eyes.

“John?” Stefano questioned softly, sensing a danger but uncertain its source. “John. It’s all right. It’s just me. Put the knife away.”

Deep breathes. Just keep breathing. No need to kill. Not Stefano. Not now. Ever so slowly, John bent down and eased the knife back into its sheath. When he finally straightened up, his eyes were again sane. “Surprised to see me?” he asked, a faint grin touching his lips.

“I’ve been expecting you. Just not tonight,” Stefano replied, cautiously studying the man he had trained to be a killer and wondering if perhaps he had trained him a bit too well.

Almost casually, John shrugged. “I’m late. I know. Should have been here weeks ago, but Alamain isn’t half bad for an amateur. But now I’m here.... Where’s Marlena?”

The steel in the man’s voice belied his now calm exterior and Stefano knew that he could lash out at the slightest of provocation. Handling nitro would be less risky than trying to control the killer that now stood before him. But handle him, he would.

Rising from his bed, Stefano gathered his robe and walked slowly over to the decanter of bourbon that sat on the corner table. He needed a drink. He needed to put some distance between himself and that damn knife. He felt the burning eyes following him every step of the way. “Marlena is fine, John. I promise you,” he placated as he filled a cut glass tumbler to the brim. “But.... We didn’t know you would be here this soon. I… made other arrangements, John. She escaped from the premises earlier tonight. If all went as planed, she should be safely in the city by now, busy trying to contact you.”

“She’s gone?”

“You missed her by several hours. She should be safe and sound, even as we speak,” Dimera answered, managing a smile as he saw the tension in John’s face begin to ease.

“You sure?” John asked, unable to believe that it would be this easy. Safe. She was safe. So why was there still a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach?

Sipping at his bourbon, Stefano nodded his head contemplatively. “I’m certain that she and the children got out. I heard the commotion when their escape was discovered. I had hoped they would have the entire night before their absence was noted, but at the very least, I am positive that they made it out of the castle without problem.”

With a loud sigh, John gave a quick shake of his head, trying to make himself let go of the fear and the worry. They dogged him still, but he managed a tight smile. With two quick strides, he joined Dimera at the table, sinking down into one of the dining chairs. “I sometimes underestimate you, old man,” he said, raising the bottle in salute before downing a healthy slug of the fiery liquid.

“Yes, you do,” was the dry response as Stefano took the opposite seat. “What now? I myself am not currently in need of rescue. Mikos will no doubt release me once he understands that Marlena and the children are gone. I serve no purpose, and holding me would bring him nothing but trouble. It appears that you are a man without a mission.”

John shrugged, the possibility that he would be leaving here without Marlena never having entered his mind. “Now.... I guess I slink down the hall and gut Mikos Alamain like a fish. Don’t suppose you know where his room is?” he asked, looking over at Stefano with a cheerful grin.

Again the vague sense of unease ran through Stefano. John was unstable. He had always been ruthless. Willing to kill. But this.... This was something new. Something ugly.

“John, why don’t you let it go for now. Get yourself out of this house. Go to Marlena. I have more than enough information on Alamain to bring him to his knees. The man is no longer a threat. You need to get out while you still can,” he argued persuasively, hoping the man opposite him was still able to see reason.

John laughed, a harsh grating sound that was painful to hear. “You don’t really think I’m going to let that man live, do you? He took her! He took her children! He was going to make her marry him, for Christ’s sake!” he said, exploding from his seat as thoughts he had tried to avoid suddenly refused to be silenced.

Stalking across the room, he dropped his head and ran a heavy hand across his eyes, shielding himself from a truth he was afraid to hear. “He didn’t touch her, did he?” he muttered brokenly, his voice barely rising above a whisper.

Stefano knew immediately what it was that John feared. Knew what it was that drove him. Keeping his voice smooth and even, he gently replied, “No. John, he never touched her. She is fine. I swear to you, he never laid a hand on her person.”

It wasn’t quite the truth, but it wasn’t a total lie either. Not that he wouldn’t lie if necessary, but John did have a tendency to see through him when he tried. As he had hoped, his words seemed to ease the tension a bit, and John dashed a hand across eyes that glistened with unshed tears.

“Good. I didn’t… I didn’t think he had done anything...” he finally managed to mutter hoarsely.

“Then you will let this thing go? At least for now?” Stefano prompted.

“Hell no. He’s a dead man,” was the terse response.

“He’s also your brother,” Dimera responded, wondering as he did so the merits of the act. Still, it might be the only way to make John stop. Make him think.

“What did you say?” John spat out, whirling around to advance on Dimera.

“I said that Mikos Alamain is your brother. Half-brother, at least. You share the same mother,” Stefano calmly replied. John’s reaction was not what he expected.

“Classic! Just fucking classic!” he said, shaking his head as if at some bad joke. “I should have known...!!” he almost shouted, his face twisting in fury.

“Keep your voice down, John!” Stefano hissed out angrily, rising to grab John by the shoulders.

The light touch was all it took to set the man off. With a snarl, John wrapped his hands around Dimera’s thick neck and slammed him hard against the wall. “I thought it was you! All along, I thought it was you! Some man I killed for you. Some bitch I fucked while I was working for you. I thought if I left you, I could leave this behind. What a joke that is, huh old man!? This is a family thing! It’s in my god damned blood!” He spat the words out, watching dispassionately as Stefano’s face began to pale beneath the slowly tightening hands.

His vision narrowing to a pinprick, Stefano began to panic. “No! John… stop...” The words wheezed out unintelligibly as he pulled helplessly against the hands at his throat. His vision faded to black and his knees gave out before he was allowed to draw in a deep gasping breath, his throat burning with the effort. As full consciousness slowly returned, he raised his head and searched for the form of his attacker, wondering what it was that had made him snap. Wondering what it was that had made him stop.

John huddled in the center of the floor, his knees drawn tightly up against his chest and his bright eyes studying Dimera with only the slightest hing of recognition. He looked like a beaten dog debating whether it was victim or prey. How many nights had Stefano stumbled from bed, awakened by the sound of screaming, only to find the boy huddled in the exact same pose? A single night would have been too many.

Knowing the man was still dangerous, Stefano moved slowly forward until he crouched by his side. Gently, he brought his hand to rest against one broad shoulder, noticing the shotgun that lay nestled there and how useless it suddenly looked.

“John?” he whispered softly, relieved when the man didn’t pull away. “John, come on. Can you hear me?”

“Sorry,” was the croaked reply.

“John, you can’t do this now. Do you understand? Marlena needs you. She needs you to go home to her. You have to hold it together,” Stefano said urgently, wondering as he spoke whether the news of the baby would push John over the edge or pull him back. He had all the answer he needed in John’s reply.

“I’m bad for her. You know that, don’t you? I’ll kill her, Stefano. We both know it. I’ll kill her just like I could have killed you.”

Stefano forced a chuckle that convinced no one of the humor of the situation. “You would never hurt Marlena, John. Even I know that.”

John shook his head, unwilling to acknowledge the words. “He took her from me. Do you understand that? I was right there and there still wasn’t anything I could do to stop it. I can’t protect her. Not from the violence that follows me. Not from the men that want me dead. Do you have any idea what I thought he might do to her? Do you?!”

“John, nothing happened. Marlena is all right. She and the children will be fine. You have to stop thinking like this.”

“What about the next time, huh? What about the next time I am too weak or too stupid.... What if the next time, she dies?” John hissed back, the pain of his visions flickering in his pale eyes.

“There won’t be any next time. Look, if you need to kill Alamain, then do it. If that is the price for your peace of mind, then just do it and forget about it. But you have to pull yourself together. You have to focus on what’s important. Your life is what’s important. Your life with Marlena. Don’t forget that.” Stefano watched the younger man worriedly, hating the despair, the hopelessness he saw in those eyes. Remembering that look from years ago, the boy staring up at him with ancient eyes as blood from his forearm had dripped down to stain priceless carpets.

“My life is shit,” was the cold reply.

Stefano stared at him, sickened by what he had heard. Putting his entire weight behind the blow, he backhanded John across the face with enough force to snap the man’s head around. “Don’t you dare say that,” he growled. “Not to me. Not after you took the only woman I ever loved away from me!”

“You don’t know anything about love,” John fired back, his head swinging around to fasten on Dimera’s face as the blood trickled down from his split lip. “Love isn’t about possessing someone. It isn’t about owning them. Love is about sacrifice, Stefano! That is something you will never understand!”

With a rough jerk, John pulled away from Dimera’s grip and shot to his feet. Yanking the shotgun from his back, he strode to the door without a backward glance.

“Where the hell do you think you are going?” Dimera asked tightly, as he too rose from the floor.

“To kill my brother,” John replied, turning to flash an ugly smile at his mentor. At the look on the old man’s face, he almost felt pity for him. Trying to ease the pain of the moment, he indulged himself in one last lie. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back,” he finished more gently before turning to the door. His hand was on the knob when he heard the sound of rapid footsteps approaching from the outside. Like a ghost, he quickly faded back to hide against the wall.

“Stefano?” Vivian called out, storming in and slamming the door shut behind her. “Stefano, what was your door doing unlocked...” An iron grip locked across her mouth and she was jerked violently off her feet. Helplessly she tried to scream, the dark blade of a knife plunging down toward her neck the most terrifying thing she had ever seen.

“John, stop!” Dimera barked from across the room.

“Why?” John asked dispassionately, looking up from the woman he held in his arms, knife firmly pressed against her throat.

“John, let her go. She’s your aunt,” Stefano said, keeping his voice calm only with great effort.

With a shrug, John glanced down at the frail body he held. “I care about that, why?”

“She helped me get Marlena out. She’s on our side John. Really. Let her go.”

John hesitated for a long moment before unceremoniously dropping the woman to the floor. He eyed her curiously as she almost sprinted across the room and latched her hands around one of Dimera’s arms.

“I’ll scream. If he takes one step closer, I will scream!” Vivian babbled almost hysterically.

“Vivian, please don’t scream,” Stefano soothed, absently patting at one of the hands now locked about his arm in a vicelike grip. “He is your nephew. This is Alexander. He came to get Marlena, it will be all right.”

“I will scream!” she repeated, shaking her head from side to side and taking a step back so that Stefano’s body was between herself and the beastly man beside the door.

“You should have let me kill her,” John noted, shooting Dimera a hard look.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Stefano snapped, “Enough. Both of you! Shut up!”

John merely raised an eyebrow and slipped his knife back in its sheath. Vivian peered around Stefano’s solid form, eyeing her ‘nephew’ uncertainly. Beneath all of the dirt and grime, there was a well muscled young body that did seem to bear a striking resemblance to old Illya Alamain. “Hmm. He does ‘look’ like he could be from the royal line. And his utter lack of gallantry in the presence of a woman is very reminiscent of Mikos,” she mused aloud.

John’s eyes darkened at the comment and he took a step forward, a scowl on his face.

“Vivian, shut up!” Stefano hissed desperately, knowing that any word that came from her overactive mouth was highly likely to result in her untimely demise. John was in no mood to deal with a lesson on the family history.

“Sorry,” she muttered, watching as the dangerous looking young man seemed to calm a bit.

“Vivian, why are you here? Not that your presence isn’t always welcomed, but...” Stefano trailed off, looking down at the woman in exasperation.

For once, Vivian thought before she spoke, and according to her thinking, now was perhaps not the best time to mention the recapture of Marlena and her children. “Hmm? Oh, nothing really. Just thought I’d drop by to say goodnight. ‘Goodnight’!” she finished cheerfully, plastering a smile on her face and attempting to sidle along the wall and reach the door without getting any nearer to the man with the shotgun.

“It’s after three a.m., Vivian. You did not come to wish me pleasant dreams. What is going on?” Stefano demanded irritably, deciding that he was getting far too old for this sort of silliness.

“Oh, nothing. Really. It can wait till morning,” she called over her shoulder as she prepared to make a run for the door.

John was rapidly tiring of this charade, and with one smooth movement his arm shot out to the side, shotgun in hand. Vivian found herself standing very still as the barrel of the gun lightly pressed against the skin of her breastbone.

“You have three seconds to tell me what’s going on, or I am going to turn you into wallpaper,” John stated flatly.

Vivian’s hand came up to tap against the side of the steel barrel and she shot a silent plea for help in Stefano’s direction. When the man merely shrugged, she immediately decided that perhaps honesty was the best policy after all. “Well.... You see.... It’s like this. There was a slight flaw in our plan, Stefano. It was a good plan. I assure you,” she said quickly, shifting to look up at John. “But, it was not without risk. And, well..., Mikos has recapture Marlena and her children, he sent the children away to a separate compound, and Marlena received a bump on the head in the accident and Mikos had her sedated and well… The whole thing’s just a big mess,” she finished with an outpouring of words that left both men stunned.

“What?” Stefano spat out, staring at Vivian as if she had just grown two heads.

She shrugged as if to say ‘you asked’ and felt a sudden sense of relief as the mouth of the gun dropped to point at the floor.

Shaking his head, John sagged against the wall. “Jesus,” he whispered softly, wondering if somewhere out there some asshole God was laughing at him.

As the reality of the situation sank in, Stefano took a hesitant step in John’s direction, suddenly realizing that this was the one thing that could have stopped him from making a suicidal attack on Mikos. For Marlena’s sake he would pull himself together. For her, he would make himself stop long enough to think. To plan. To worry about living at least long enough to get her away from here. With an encouraging nod in Vivian’s direction, he slowly approached the slumped form.

“We get her out, John. It’s that simple. Vivian can help. She can come back tonight when it’s dark, and she can help us get Marlena out of here. Right Vivian?”

“Oh! Well, yes. I mean, of course I will help,” she chirped brightly, once again easing slowly toward the door.

“Why not now?” John asked quietly, straightening up as he began running new scenarios through his mind. The kids. The kids were gone. Have to get them out separately…

“It’s almost dawn. You’re going to need some lead time. Besides, we want to make certain that Marlena’s okay to travel. Vivian, you can handle finding out about that today, can’t you?”

“Mm hm,” she said, nodding agreeably as her fingers wrapped around the door knob. Just as she was about to fling the door open and run, John looked over to fasten piercing blue eyes on her.

For a moment, he simply studied her. Looking at her, really looking at her for the first time, he seemed to search for some sign of kinship. “You are really my aunt?”

With a slight nod, she acknowledged the truth of it.

“Thank you. For helping with Marlena.... Thank you.”

Her eyes crinkled with the hint of a smile. “It was very… ‘interesting’ meeting you,” she replied.

“We will see you at dinner, right Vivian?” Stefano interjected, watching the woman closely.

“Of course you will. I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” she said, chuckling as she walked from the room and pulled the door tightly shut behind her.

“Are you okay?” Stefano finally asked, cautiously leading John over to perch atop the bed.

Giving a dry laugh, the younger man wrapped his arms around the shotgun and allowed his tired body to fall back against the cool sheets. Staring up at the ceiling with sightless eyes, he said, “I’m fine, Stefano. For now, all we can do is wait. I have gotten very good at waiting.”

-----

Stefano glanced up from his novel as John’s breathing grew suddenly harsh. Moving softly to the bedside, he looked down at the man who lay curled in the center of the bed. After hours of staring soundlessly up at the ceiling, exhaustion had finally become too great a foe and he had succumbed to sleep. But even in his dreams, he appeared to be haunted. His lips twisted in a grimace of pain or fear, and his hands wrapped possessively around the shotgun as if it could somehow slay the demons in his mind. With short rapid breaths, he tried to run. To something, from something… Dimera couldn’t say.

An eye snapped open to stare out at him, wildness reflected in the blue-black depths. Slowly, John pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. “What?” he asked with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

“You were dreaming,” Stefano answered, going to sit back down in the armchair.

“Didn’t scream out or anything, right?” John muttered, looking away as if ashamed.

“No. Nothing like that. I was just worried,” was the studied reply. “You don’t still do that, do you?”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Stefano. Stop worrying about me.” Grinning a manic gin, John dismissed the question and rose to his feet, stretching out the kinks. Thank God it was finally dark outside and they could start thinking of getting Marlena back. If he had to wait any longer, he would have lost it completely.

“Where’s that Vivian woman? Shouldn’t she be here by now?” John asked distractedly as he checked over his weapons, the act as much a mental preparation as a physical one.

“‘That Vivian woman’ as you so eloquently put it, is a lot sharper than you give her credit for. I would suggest you show her a little respect when she returns. ‘If’ she returns. You were not exactly gracious during your last encounter.”

Shrugging indifferently, John slung the shotgun across his shoulder. “So what’s up with you and my ‘aunt’, anyway?” He asked casually, studying Stefano with wry amusement.

“And what business is it of yours if I am,” Stefano replied, cocking an eyebrow and shooting John a superior look.

“No business at all,” John answered with an ugly grin. “Just thinking about what I’m going to tell Marlena. ‘Hi, honey, I’m back! While we’re here, why don’t I introduce you to my brother, the pervert who was trying to force you into marriage. Oh, and this is my aunt who is currently screwing Stefano, the ‘other’ man you hate with every fiber of your being. If we’re really lucky, they’ll get married and then Stefano Dimera, the criminal mastermind wanted in almost every country with indoor plumbing, he’ll be not only my father figure but my uncle as well!’ Yes, this is going to be a beautiful reunion. I can just see it now!”

“What makes you think Marlena hates me?” Stefano asked in a wounded tone, ignoring the issue of Vivian.

“Perhaps the fact that every other sentence out of her mouth is ‘I hate Stefano’?”

“I think she likes me, she’s just embarrassed to admit it,” Stefano said complacently.

“I’d be embarrassed too,” John muttered under his breath, tiring of the argument.

A sharp wrap on the door interrupted their discussion, and John faded silently back against the wall.

“Ah, Stefano! I thought I would drop in for an after dinner drink,” Vivian’s high-pitched voice called out. She stepped quickly into the room, sliding along with her back to the wall and her eyes actively searching for John. He couldn’t help a small smile at her performance. Deciding a bit of charm couldn’t hurt, he stepped forward from his place against the wall. “I am grateful you came,” he said, giving her a small bow.

“Nephew,” she nodded back with a pleased smile as she moved to the center of the room. “Really, Stefano, couldn’t you have shown the dear boy to the shower? He’s still all covered in that horrid black gunk!” she commented, breezing by Dimera and settling herself comfortably at the table. In the absence of knives, she was beginning to feel much more at ease about this situation. She had almost decided not to return after the events of last night, but the lure of ousting Mikos was simply too strong. Perhaps this would all work to her benefit in the end.

“What can you tell us?” Stefano asked, moving to sit across from Vivian, John choosing to maintain his post by the door and simply listen, at least for the moment.

“Well, most of the news is good. Mikos has had Marlena locked in her room. She is to receive no visitors until she actually calls out and asks for Mikos. So… If she were to disappear, one could have a decent head start before her absence was noted.”

“And is she all right? Can she be moved safely?” Stefano prodded, pouring Vivian a glass of wine in an effort to keep her happy.

“I did manage to speak to the physician who saw her. A mild concussion, nothing serious. But.... Mikos ordered that she be sedated. I think she must have… resisted him, bruised his ego in some way,” Vivian said, choosing her words carefully as she watched John’s face begin to darken. “Anyway, the doctor gave her a shot. She’s probably still under its effects, at least according to the doctor.”

“I can carry her out,” John noted tightly, his hatred for his brother seeming to grow with each new word. “But the kids. What did you find out about the children?”

“Nothing, I’m afraid. Mikos put Dimitri, the head of security, in charge of the children. I know they were driven into town late last night and flown out by helicopter. I don’t know where they are now. I’m sorry, John. Truly.”

“Marlena won’t leave without the children, John. Mikos is using them to blackmail her. I know it’s why she agreed to the marriage. She can’t leave until the children are safe,” Stefano commented, watching John for his reaction.

“Marlena is leaving. Tonight. With or without the children. That is not subject for debate,” John answered coldly. “We will find the children. We’ll find them if I have to string Dimitri up by his thumbs and beat the location out of him. But Marlena leaves this house tonight. She will not be forced to ‘resist’ that son of a bitch again!”

Stefano merely nodded, not liking the idea but not having any alternative either. “So when do you go? The sooner the better?”

“Any patrols you know of?” John asked, with a nod toward his aunt.

“About every half-hour they walk the halls. They really shouldn’t be that hard to avoid. But Mikos is the only one with a key...”

“Not an issue,” John replied tersely.

“Then you go after the next patrol?” Stefano asked.

“Unless you have a better idea...”

He crept silently across the hall, ears pricked for the slightest hint of a guard. So close.... Too close to screw up now. Dropping to his knees he fumbled at the lock, trembling hands refusing to do as his mind commanded. Taking a deep breath, he wiped the sweat from his face and tried again. This time the faint click of the lock indicated his success. Gingerly he pushed the door open and stepped into the room, seeing nothing in the dim light.

He didn’t need his eyes to tell him she was here. He could feel her presence. Smell her scent in the air. Hear the very beat of her heart. A tremor ran through his body as pain he hadn’t known he felt suddenly eased and a genuine smile curved his lips for the first time since she had been taken. Soundlessly he pulled the door shut behind him and moved to her side.

He didn’t want to frighten her, to startle her by touching her in the darkness. He didn’t want to touch her at all until he was certain that it was what she wanted. Carefully he reached out and turned on the table lamp that sat beside the bed. The golden glow chased back the shadows and illuminated the body of the sleeping woman. With a low moan, her head turned away from the light and she muttered out in her sleep. “No… please, no.”

Oh sweet Jesus, she had been hit. Her cheek stood out, purpled and swollen. This was the result of no accident. No trip down the stairs. No fall from a bike. A human hand had done this to her. He knew the signs all too well. Knew how it felt to deliver such a blow. Knew how it felt to receive one.

Crouching at her side, the tears trailed down his face as his hand hovered above her broken flesh. Wishing he could make it go away. Knowing that he couldn’t.

“Doc? Marlena? Can you hear me?” he whispered raggedly, his fingers dropping to gently caress the silky blond hair that lay spread across the pillow. “Baby, please. It’s John. Please open your eyes for me.”

She sobbed in her sleep and he knew that the pills must still be clouding her mind. Maybe it was better that way. He didn’t want her to wake up here. Not while she was still in this place. Not while she would still know fear. Ever so gently he reached out and wrapped the thick blanket around her slim form. Effortlessly he took her in his arms, holding her as if she were a child. Holding her as if she were the only thing on this earth that mattered to him.

Swiftly he made his way out the door and down the hall, making certain to secure the doors behind him in his wake. His pursuers would come soon enough and he would need every second he could get to assure her safety. He had her back, he would not lose her again.

As if from a great distance she heard the sharp crackle of a fire. Felt the glow of the heat against the side of her face. Her face… it hurt. Moaning under her breath, she tried to bring her hand up to rub against her sore cheek, but her body refused to respond. Drugging her. Mikos was drugging her, the panicked thoughts shot through her confused mind as she recognized the effects of the sedative. No drugs. Please Lord, no drugs. “My baby,” she whispered out fearfully through the haze of unconsciousness.

“Marlena, shhh...” he said in a low voice as he crouched at her side. Reaching down, he brushed back a damp strand of hair, the feel of her skin beneath his hand a gift he had feared lost forever. “Your babies are fine, Marlena. I promise you, I will get them back. I swear it. Just rest. I will take care of everything.”

A broad grin lit his face as her eyelids began to flutter. Not wanting to scare her, he dropped his hand and sank back on his heels. “Hey, sleeping beauty,” he called softly as her eyes finally seemed to focus on him.

“I’m dreaming,” she muttered weakly, knowing that John could not be here, no matter how badly she wished it were true.

“If you were dreaming, I’d be Brad Pitt,” he replied, looking down on her with a contented grin.

“John?” she whispered, her eyes widening as she tried to sit up, gasping as the pain lanced through her head like a knife.

Instantly he was there, his big hand cradling her head, easing her back down to the soft surface of the sleeping bag that lay stretched upon the sand. “Go slow, baby. You were hurt, you have to go slow,” he said worriedly as he knelt above her and peered down into her eyes. He saw the panic flash through those golden depths a moment before her hand shot up to latch onto the neck of his T-shirt in an unbreakable grip. With a strength that surprised him, she yanked him down until his body pressed close against hers and it was all that he could do to keep his entire weight from crushing down on her slender form.

She squeezed her eyes tight shut and held him close, her free hand wrapping around his broad back while she clutched at the thin fabric of his shirt. “I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead, but I knew you would come. I knew it, but… What took you so long!” she babbled, the words rushing together incoherently as her mind raced and her heart seemed to sing.

Frightened by her reaction, he looked down to see the tears streaming across her battered cheek. She was never going to forgive him. Not after he had left her for so long. Not after what Alamain had done to her. “Marlena, let go. Please, Doc, let me up before I hurt you,” he said, struggling to brace himself on his elbows and keep his body from smashing her.

“No!” she said stubbornly, her head shaking back and forth as the hand at his back wrapped itself around the material of the T-shirt. “I won’t let go. You can’t make me. What took you so long!?”

“I’m sorry, baby. So sorry,” he soothed, finally managing to bring his hand around to press against the small of her back. With a muffled grunt, he pulled her to him and rolled over on his side, relaxing down against the cool sand. She clung tightly to him, burying her face in his chest, and it felt so right to have her close to him. It felt so good. He bit down hard on his lip, trying to ignore the way his body responded to her as his right hand continued to pat awkwardly at her back.

She lost herself in the sharp male scent of him, knowing that as long as she was in his arms, she was safe. Wherever she was, she was safe in his arms. Finally the frantic pounding of her heart seemed to slow and her hands loosened ever so slightly as she began to accept that he was real and not just some figment of her imagination. Tilting her head to the side, she muttered, “You stink!”

His chuckle shook his entire body, and she could not help but smile as he replied, “I missed you too.”

“I knew you’d come. I told Mikos you would!” she said almost fiercely, looking up to gaze into his eyes. Feeling his body tense at her words. Knowing immediately that it had been the wrong thing to say.

With a firm hand, he pushed her away and slowly sat up. His face was blank, his emotions hidden away behind a stonefaced mask. Marlena didn’t need to see his face to know his thoughts. She didn’t need to see the ways his hands clenched into fists or the vein in the side of his neck pulsed hard and fast. She didn’t need to see him at all to know what he was thinking. To know that it scared her.

She pulled her knees to her chest and slowly sat up, noticing for the first time the cool air that cut through her thin nightgown. Looking across to where he sat watching her, she couldn’t help a tremble that had nothing to do with the cold.

“He didn’t touch you, did he? He didn’t hurt you?” John asked calmly.

The look in his eyes frightened her. The thought of what he might do.... Numbly, she shook her head. “No, he didn’t hurt me John. Really.”

“Somebody hurt you,” he replied gently, reaching out toward the bruise on her face. Glancing down in guilt when she flinched away from his touch.

“No. It was an accident. Really John, it’s okay,” she said, her hand coming up to cover the bruise, to hide it from his eyes.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” he asked, looking up with a crooked smile.

“He’s your brother. Did you know that? He’s your family...,” she trailed off, avoiding his question and trying to defuse the anger she sensed twisting within the man she loved like some dark force that would steal him away from her.

“I know he’s my brother, Marlena. I simply don’t care. You are the only family that matters to me. The only one that will ever matter,” he said coldly, his eyes narrowing as the rage he felt bubbled to the surface.

“John, I want to go home. I want to go home now. That’s all I want, to go home with you and our children and to never think about Mikos Alamain again,” she said, reaching forward to link her hand in his. “Take me home, John. Take me home and never leave. Please?”

She was so beautiful. Always had been. So beautiful and so much more than beautiful. She filled the empty places in his soul, and he would do anything she asked of him. Mikos Alamain wasn’t worth the look of fear on her face. With a rueful shrug, he finally smiled and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Dimera can have him. It’ll be punishment enough. Hell, if I know Stefano, he’ll eat the man’s liver for dinner.”

She exhaled a deep breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and pulled herself forward until she was nestled in his arms. Laying her head back against his shoulder, she smiled. “I will assume you’re kidding.”

“More like wishful thinking,” he responded, dropping his head to nuzzle lightly against her hair.

“Mikos Alamain isn’t worth wasting your time on. Not when you should be home with me and our children,” she said as she moved their linked hands to rest against her stomach, the thought of John holding their child in his arms bringing tears to her eyes.

“Are you sure you want me to go home with you,” he asked in a low voice, the question startling her from her happy thoughts.

“Hm? Well, where else would we go? John, there is no way I plan on living the rest of my life in one of Stefano Dimera’s ‘safe-houses’!”

He snorted in wry amusement despite himself. With a shake of his head, he forced himself to ask the question again. “No. No, I meant, are you certain you want me to go back with you. Marlena, I promised to take care of you. To watch over you. So far, I’ve failed pretty miserably. Doc, you might be safer without me.”

Her grip on his hand tightened and she said in a small voice, “I don’t want to be without you, John. I don’t ever want to be without you.”

Afraid to ask why, he was simply willing to accept it. It was far more than he deserved.

“I won’t leave you again, Marlena. I was stupid, careless, to let you out of my sight. You should never have been brought here and I know it’s my fault. I won’t make that mistake again,” he said flatly.

She wanted to absolve him. Wanted to pin the blame squarely where it belonged, on Mikos and his warped little mind. But there was no way she was going to get John started thinking about Mikos again, and anything that would keep John at home, she could live with. Instead, she leaned back and planted a light kiss along the line of his jaw, feeling his breath quicken at the touch of her lips. “I love you,” she whispered in his ear.

His head dropped to cradle in the crook of her neck and his arms wrapped around her in a crushing hug. “I love you too,” he whispered back.

She relaxed against the broad expanse of his chest, the fear finally beginning to fade. “When do we go? I can’t wait to see the children, John. After the accident, I don’t remember.... Are you sure they’re all right?”

Guilt surged through him. She didn’t know. She thought they were safe. Oh God, she was not going to like this. Keeping his voice calm and even, he carefully chose his words. “They’re fine, Marlena. Vivian said that other than a few bruises, the kids walked away just fine. And you’ll see them soon. Bo’s already working on it. We should know where they were taken any time now.”

She froze beneath his grasp, seeming to shrink in on herself as the import of the words became clear. “He still has the children? Mikos still has the kids?” she asked, her voice rising as the fear firmly took hold again.

“Not for long,” he said, trying to calm her down.

Pulling away from him, she lurched to her feet and walked to the fire, putting her hands out to the flames and trying to chase away the bone deep chill that seemed to possess her. Mikos had her children… she was still not free. “He will hurt them, John. He will hurt them because he knows it will hurt me. He told me as much,” she said in a distant voice.

Cursing Mikos for the bastard he was John stood, helplessly watching her. Nothing he said would matter. Not in the face of a threat against her children. Knowing it was futile, he said with as much confidence as he could muster, “We will get them back, Marlena. Before he has a chance to do anything to the children, we will get them back. Bo will find them before Alamain even realizes you are gone. Trust me.”

She refused to turn and face him, instead staring down into the crackling flames of the pit. “Can you promise me the children will be safe and that you will get them away before Mikos knows I’m gone?” she asked woodenly.

“I promise you,” he replied without hesitation.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” she asked, throwing his words back at him as she turned to face him.

The flames rose up behind her, the white silk of her gown translucent before the blaze. He simply stared at her, knowing that he would lie to her in a heartbeat if he thought it would spare her any pain.

His silence was the only answer she needed, and she quickly turned away. “I have to go back,” she whispered.

“What?!” he choked out, unable to believe what he had heard.

She wrapped her arms around herself and thought of her children. The risk was too great. She could not leave Mikos until she knew that they were safe. He would kill them. Purely out of spite, he would kill them, she knew it in her heart. “Just until you get the children. Please, John. It will be okay. If he doesn’t even know I was gone...”

“The man ‘hit’ you, Marlena!” John exploded, taking an angry step in her direction.

“I can stay away from him, John. I can handle him!” she snapped, hating that John was arguing with her about this. Couldn’t he see, she had no choice?! Didn’t he know how hard this was for her?!

“You’re right. You will stay away from him. Far away from him. There is no way I will let that son of a bitch drag you back to him,” he stated flatly, as if that somehow ended the discussion.

Her temper flared at his tone. She was a grown woman. She would do what had to be done to protect her children. Trying not to think too hard about the child she now carried inside, she turned to face him. “The choice is mine, John. I want to go back,” she said coldly.

“Marlena, I don’t give a damn what you want! I’m not letting you get anywhere near that man. Not now. Not ever. Not for any reason. Got it?!” he hissed, blue eyes narrowed in anger.

“You can’t stop me,” she shot back at him.

“Want to bet?”

She took a step toward the passageway and he moved to block her way.

“You stay here, Marlena. End of discussion.”

-----

“I have to go back.”

“No.”

“For the children. I have to go back.”

“I won’t let you.”

She studied him, standing before her blocking her way. The flames of the fire a play of light and shadow across his face, revealing and distorting so that he seemed to shift before her gaze. Husband, father, killer, thief. A blur of men, of memories, of emotions. A blur that shifted with every flicker of flame. Only the eyes were real, gleaming out at her with the purest of blues. There was no lie in those eyes. No hint of hesitation. He would never let her go back to Alamain. Not now. Not ever.

Anger flushed her face and she stalked toward him. “These are my children, John. Not yours. You have no right to prevent me!” she lashed out, wanting the words to hurt him. Wanting them to make him let her go.

She achieved one of her goals. His face went pale and his hands clenched tightly at his sides. “That’s not fair, Marlena. You know it’s not!” he growled out, his voice low and dangerous.

“It wasn’t meant to be. Now get out of my way,” she said coldly, brushing past him as she made for the doorway.

“No!” he shouted harshly, his hand leaping forward to stop her progress. His fingers tangling in the soft cloth of the gown. Dragging her back. Tearing at the fragile silk.

She whirled around at his touch, eyes blazing with fury and he stared back at her, shocked by what he had done. The shreds of the fabric dangled from his hand, swaying softly on the air as she stood before him, her wild hair a flaming mane of red and gold that shimmered in the light of the fire. Alabaster skin stood exposed, her firm breasts rising and falling with every gasping breath. Half-naked in the firelight, she was lust incarnate. “I will never let him touch you again,” he hissed out, his eyes holding hers in a molten stare.

She felt a shiver run through her frame, her skin prickling as his eyes swept over her. Wordlessly, she turned away from him and stepped again toward the tunnels. His big hand grabbed her wrist, holding her firm.

“Let me go,” she said flatly, the panic starting to rise as she realized that he was willing to use force to make her stay.

“No,” was the stoic response.

The touch of his hand was too much. He felt so warm. So alive. So hers. How could she leave him to return to one who made her skin crawl? Who made her feel dirty with the merest touch of his glance? In a sudden frenzy, she tried to pull free, using her weight to jerk against his hold. “Let me go!” she half screamed, twisting her body away from him while she still had the will to leave.

With an angry grunt, he pulled her back until she stood pressed close against him. She could feel his heat against her back, even through the canvas of his field jacket. His arms looped tightly around her and his warm breath brushed against her ear as he softly whispered. “Never.”

She spun in his arms, so angry she couldn’t see. Her hands slammed against his chest, pounding at him with her fists. Stone-faced, he stood immune to her onslaught and in sudden frustration she raked her nails down his throat and chest to leave bleeding gashes that showed clearly beneath his torn T-shirt.

He snarled at the pain, his hands snaking up to grab her wrists, his ripped flesh burning from her touch. With one hand he held her crossed wrists above her head as he shoved her back against the stone walls of the cavern. Chest to chest they stood, the rough material of his jacket rubbing against her swollen nipples with every gasp of air he took.

“Let me go,” she moaned out softly, her breath catching in her throat as she tilted her head back to look up at him.

For an answer, he crushed his body to hers, his knee wedging between her legs as his head dropped to nip lightly down her throat. His lips came to nestle in the hollow of her throat, and she could feel his reply rippling across her skin. “Never.”

She growled at him then, straining upward to lay her lips against the furrows she had drawn on his neck. His head arched back as the wounds burned and he could not help but grind against her, a low moan rumbling through his body. “I will never let you go. Never,” he swore, his head tilted back to stare into the darkness as his body surrendered itself to her will.

She wanted the world to know that he was hers. Her only one. The only one she would ever want. Her right leg crept up his thigh, looping itself around him as she sank her teeth into the side of his neck, sucking hard so that there would be no doubt that he had been marked. With a harsh cry he released her hands and grabbed at her face. She rose to meet him and as his fingers tangled in her hair her lips met his in a hungry kiss.

His jacket slipped from his shoulders as her hands tore the remains of his T-shirt away. He sucked her tongue, desperate to posses her mouth as her hands ran across his broad chest. His cock strained against the tough material of his fatigues, his hips jerking as her fingers teased across his concealed hardness. And then she had him in her cool hand and his head snapped back as if he had been burnt.

“Jesus...” he hissed out to the shadows.

“Hardly,” she whispered in his ear as her white teeth clamped down on his earlobe and her hand stroked down his rigid member. This time when he screamed out, it was her name he called.

Her name on his lips. Only his lips. Only for him. This was only for him. The thought pounded in her mind as he shuddered in her grip. Her free hand crept around his back, exploring the smooth expanse of skin as her head dropped to tease at the pink bud of his nipple. His face nestled in her hair and she could feel his whispered words as he ground out his mantra. “I will never let you go. I will never let you go...”

He convulsed against her, voice cracking with the strain. Almost violently she was lifted into the air, his hands tearing away the remaining strands of her gown. She locked her legs behind his hips and leaned back against the hard rock. With one sudden thrust he was inside her. Buried to the hilt, he froze and stared into her eyes, relishing the feel of her body wrapped around his.

He was liquid fire inside of her and she could feel him throbbing though he made no movement. Her legs clenched tighter and she rocked against him, watching as he sobbed for breath at the slightest hint of friction. His hands tightened on her waist and he slowly drew back, flesh rubbing against flesh. She felt as if she were floating, the smooth glide of muscle an endless pleasure that would continue until it killed her. Just before the contact was lost he rammed forward, splitting her in half with the force of his thrust.

She bucked in his tight grip moaning with every blow he pounded into her. Her back ground into the rocks, sharp edges scraping against sweating flesh. The world seemed to blur as the heat consumed her, tingling along every nerve in her body. The only sound she could hear was the frantic beat of her own heart. And then he screamed…

Muscles she didn’t know she had suddenly seemed to shatter and he was shooting into her, his heavy warmth filling her every crevice. With a muffled sob he sank slowly to his knees, still cradling her against him. Tears streaked his face and whiskers scrapped against her cheek as he whispered brokenly. “I will never let you go.”

Eons had passed. Eons or minutes, it didn’t really matter. Eternity would not be long enough for her to be with him. Cupping the side of his face, she ran her thumb across his cheekbone, relishing the gentle sigh her touch provoked. “I love you. I was born to love only you,” she whispered down at his dark head, huddled against her chest.

He squeezed his eyes tight shut, his arms encircling her. Luxuriating in the feel of her soft skin. She flinched as his hand skimmed across flesh rubbed raw by the rocks of the walls, and he sat up to look at her, concern in his eyes.

“I hurt you,” he said softly, pain in his voice.

“You never hurt me,” she replied with a small smile, her hand going out to trail through his damp hair.

“I always hurt you,” he answered bitterly. Avoiding her eyes, he slipped away from her and walked to the edge of the spring. Flames reflected off of black water, light and shadow clashing in an endless war, an eternal dance. With a rueful smile, he wondered if it was a sign. Prayed that it was not. Knowing that eventually the fire would burn itself out. The flames would die. The light would fade. In the end, there would be only the darkness.

Cold had replaced the warmth where his body should be. A chill ran through her, and she reached out to snag his jacket. Pulling it tight around her shoulders, she wrapped herself in his essence and watched him, standing alone beside a pool of flickering fire. She shivered again, realizing that he had spent far too much of his life alone. Silently she rose and went to him, rubbing her hands gently across the tight muscles of his shoulders. Feeling him tense at the light caress.

“I will never understand why you choose to love me,” he rasp out, voice thick with emotion.

Stepping close, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed against the smooth warm skin of his back. “Choice has very little to do with it,” she replied with a soft chuckle.

Shifting in her embrace, he turned to face her. Silently his hand rose, his fingers reaching out to lightly trace the line of her jaw, the curve of her cheek. Blue eyes shone, the flicker of firelight reflecting down on her. “I would die for you,” he said roughly. “You know that, don’t you? My life is the only thing I have to give you. The only gift I can offer.”

Involuntarily, her hand dropped to her flat stomach as thoughts of her child ran through her head. “That is not your only gift to me,” she whispered softly, pulling herself close against him and resting her head against his chest. Her child. Their child. His child. He should know.

A smile crossed her face at the thought of his reaction. A little boy. A little girl. A tiny miracle, symbolizing their love for one another. She wanted this for him more than she had ever wanted anything in her entire life. Slowly, she lifted her head. Fastened golden eyes on his face. Memorized every detail of the moment. And realized that he could not know. Not here. Not now. Instead, she stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. “I love you. We will always be together, I promise you. But I have to go back. Sweetie, you have to let me,” her words said softly as she ran her hands slowly through his hair.

His eyes closed and she could feel the tremors shaking his lean body. He dropped his head and with a tear streaked face whispered brokenly. “I know.”

She pulled him close, her arms wrapping around him in fiercely protective grip. “I will always love you,"she said, rubbing his back in gentle soothing circles.

Without reply, he bent down and lifted her off her feet, cradling her in his arms. The jacket slipped from her shoulders, the chill of the air bringing goose pimples to her skin, and she curled against him seeking his warmth. His contact. With steady steps he walked slowly into the water, wading out into the warm depths of the hot spring.

She listened to the strong steady beat of his heart as the water crept up his thighs, swirling against the dark material of his fatigues, growing almost uncomfortably hot as he neared the source of the flow cascading down over a jumbled mass of smooth boulders. She sighed in contentment as the waters enveloped her, her hair trailing out behind her, quicksilver dancing on the waves.

So gently it seemed as if he were afraid of breaking her, he set her down on the smooth warm surface of the rocks. Steaming streams of water washed over her, caressing her bare skin in an endless flow. The dirt and the sweat were swept away as she stretched like a lazy cat in the sun.

He watched her with hooded eyes, a still figure standing in the shadows. Saw how her body shone, luminous under the falling sheets of dark water. Felt how his body responded, every fiber of his being coming alive. Knew how he had to touch her. Now. Forever. Always.

Suddenly desperate for her, he glided forward to rest one hand on the base of the rocks. His other hand ran up her side, the water curling over his fingers like a living thing. She sighed beneath his caress, her body stretching out across the polished stones. Flawless skin, tawny and golden beneath the running waters. It seemed to flow beneath his fingers, alive and warm. Created solely for his touch. To posses such beauty was a grace he knew he did not deserve. In the end, he knew it would not be allowed. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand back, to have her only to lose her the one thing he knew would break him.

Every sensation seemed heightened. The water roared in her ears and her flesh quivered with the heat of its passing. The smooth stroke of his hand seared her flesh as a low moan rumbled through her chest. And then he was gone, the loss of his touch turning her cold beneath the heated waters. She opened her eyes and sat up. Saw him watching her, the swirling waters pounding to white foam against his bare chest. In his eyes, there was fear. Fear for her. Fear of losing her.

“I will come back,” she whispered. “I promise you, I will not leave you.”

He looked away, unwilling to hold her gaze. Unable to make himself believe.

With a sigh, she reached forward. Stroked his face. Eminently grateful now that she had not told him of his child. “I’m stronger than I look, you know?” she teased him with a tiny grin as she reached out with a toe to scrape across his taut abs.

He flinched in surprise and looked up at her. “Oh, I know that,” he replied with a small smile.

She did not want this night to end in fear. She had experienced enough fear to last a lifetime. They both had. She would tolerate no more. Shifting forward on the rocks, she leaned out to run her hands down his sides, skimming lightly over the ridges of hard muscle. Teasing across the raised outline of an old scar. Coming to rest on the rough material of the fatigues that were now plastered to his body. Suddenly realizing that he was still half dressed, she pushed him gently away, raising a cocked eyebrow.

“Why is it that I always seem to be the one who ends up naked?” she asked, a grin lighting her face as the pure joy of being with him washed over her.

As always, her smile seemed to lighten his heart. With a shy grin of his own, he gave a slight shrug. “Coincidence?”

“Try again,” she replied, feigning consternation.

“Mmm.... God’s a man?” he answered, the look on her face almost forcing a chuckle from him. The look should have been a warning, but he was too slow.

Lightening fast she was on top of him, bearing him down beneath the waters with her weight. Clever fingers tugged at his waist, and then he was allowed to rise for air. Breaking the surface. Shaking the hair from his eyes. Seeing her standing before him, water up to her neck and his belt held triumphantly in her hands.

“Better get those boots off, baby. Guess what I’m going after next!” her voice range out cheerfully, delight in her tone.

Impishly she stood before him. Taunting him with her incredible body, teasing him with the look in her eyes. Gods, she was beyond price! He could not help the laughter, ringing out deeply to echo off of the stoney walls. “You’ll have to catch me first, little one,” he challenged her before diving beneath the water and swimming toward shore with strong smooth strokes.

The water was knee high, splashing up beneath his booted feet in shining crystal drops, when he felt strong arms wrapping around his legs. Twisting as he fell, he ended up lying on the cool sand of the bank as she tugged at his laces of his boots.

Propping himself on his elbows, he watched with amusement as she flung first one and then the other of his boots to the side. Wiggling her eyebrows in what he could only assume was a horrible Groucho Marx impersonation, she said cockily, “To the victor go the spoils. Pucker up, loverboy!”

Flinging herself forward, she wiggled seductively against his chest as their lips locked in a kiss that was half caress, half competition. For long moments, the only sound was the gentle flow of the water and the deep growl in his chest as the need for her sang through his veins. When she finally broke the kiss, he lay gasping beneath her longing for more.

“Are you ever going to make an honest woman of me?” she asked faintly as the ability to breathe slowly returned.

Startled by the comment, he suddenly went cold. Rolling her over gently in his arms, he straddled her slim hips and looked down on her. “What?”

The look of confusion on his face was priceless and if the question had not been so important to her she would have laughed aloud. Instead, she simply smiled and reached up to clasp her hands behind his neck, pulling him down until his face hovered above her own. “John, I’m asking you to marry me,” she said softly.

Almost guilty he glanced away. With a sudden surge of muscle, he was on his feet walking away from her. Leaving her lying alone, feeling cold and empty. It was not what she had expected of him, and she curled in on herself, sitting up and wrapping her arms around her knees as if it would somehow protect her from the hurt.

“Why would you want me?” the words carried to her, flat and emotionless.

“What, the great sex isn’t enough of a reason?” she replied bitterly.

His steps faltered and she saw his hands clench at his sides as he realized what he had done. Slowly he turned to face her, wounded eyes dropping to meet her own. In an instance he was beside her, falling to his knees in the white sand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered gently. Cautiously, he reached out to brush away the trail of tears on her cheeks. “I… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… Marlena, it never occurred to me that you would want me… that way.”

Her laughter verged on the hysterical, and she turned her head away from his touch. “Well I’m not sure what more I could have done to show you how I feel, John. How many ways do you think there are to say ‘I love you. I want you. I need you’?” she said softly, in a voice that was almost a sob.

“Marlena? Doc… look at me. Please?” he pleaded. Eyes clouded with anger and pain turned to meet his own, and he cringed inside, knowing that he was the one who had done this to her.

The shame and the fear made his chest tighten. Made his words harsh. “Marlena, I am the one who brought you to this. All of the pain, all of the danger. God! Your children are gone, pawns to be used against you! I did this to you! I have destroyed your life. Perhaps even ended it, if you insist on going back to Alamain. My damn brother! Hell, it must be written into my genetic code that I will wreck everything that is good and pure in my life. Marlena, I don’t want to do that to you. I won’t do it.”

Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Her voice was cold and distant when she finally answered him. “So was it always a lie? Did you never intend to return with me to Salem? Was that your plan all along? Placate the little woman until you could get her safely home and then disappear into the night without a word? Damn you!” she hissed, pulling away from his grasping hands. Stalking to the edge of the dark water, she wrapped her arms around a body that seemed suddenly exposed and raw.

He knelt in the sand, his face resting in his hands. Still turned away from where she now stood, he replied almost gently. “I have never lied to you, Marlena. Never knowingly. I want to be with you more than I want to take my next breath of air. I would have gone with you anywhere. It’s not like I could stop myself if I wanted to. I will always be with you. Watch over you. Protect you. I have sworn this to you. I swear it again, here and now.”

She shivered at his words, knowing that he meant them. She could not be angry with him. Not for his fears. Not when she knew that they were well earned. But she could not accept having only a part of him in her life. Her hands dropped to cradle against her stomach, searching for some sign from the tiny life that she knew grew within. Sadly, she turned to face him, taking in his huddled pose. “John, I don’t need a watchdog. I need a husband. Someone to share my life with, fully and completely. You are the only man I will ever want, but I will have you in body and in soul, or I will not have you at all,” she said gently, her anger replaced by sorrow.

Carefully, he approached her. Wondering what was best. Wondering what was right for her. He wanted her. Wanted to be with her in this life and beyond. But what he wanted wasn’t important. It never had been.

Reaching out, he brushed a damp strand of hair from her face. “I will hurt you,” he said with certainty. “Being with me will hurt you.”

She stretched up, brushing his lips with the barest touch of her own. Holding his gaze, she softly replied. “I love you. I trust you. Grant me the trust to make my own decision.”

For the briefest instance he hesitated, feeling the danger, tasting the fear. Then his heart overwhelmed him, and he dropped to his knees. Taking her hand in his own, he looked up into her face. His voice rang clear as he asked, “Marlena, will you grant me the honor? Will you marry me?”

A smile broke across her face, and tears again trickled down her cheeks. His big hand gave hers a gentle squeeze and she threw herself forward into his embrace. Laughter burbled up as his arms wrapped around her so tight that she could barely breathe. The sense of relief made her giddy, and giggles fought with the tears as she wheezed out, “Let me think about it!”

He rolled her over in the sand, the warm water lapping at their sides. “You are an evil woman,” he hissed, refusing to loosen his grip for fear that somehow she would be swept away from him if he did.

For a reply, she pressed her lips to his. A cool dry kiss that turned instantly into something more. Longing and desire. Anger and fear. All wrapped up in the sweetest kiss he had ever tasted. When she finally drew back to look at him, he had to remind his heart to start beating again.

Satisfaction in her voice, she whispered softly. “Well, you deserved it. And ‘yes’, I will marry you.”

He had feared this. Had avoided thinking of his place in her future. But at her words, all of his defenses crumbled. Surging to his feet he swept her into his arms. The warm water welcomed them, soothing away the worries, washing away the tears. Buoying them up, their bodies entwining in an ever shifting embrace. His lips trailed down the arched curve of her throat and she could feel his laughter against her skin as she eased the zipper down on his fatigues, the waterlogged material drifting down to rest on the sandy bottom.

His fingers clenched tightly around her hips and hard muscles knotted as he lifted her high into the air. She threw her head back, joyous laughter crying out to the heavens as he whirled in place and she seemed suddenly capable of flight.

The drops of water shone on her bare skin, a million precious gems refracting the light of the fire. He held a rainbow in his hands and his heart broke at the beauty of it all. As he eased her back down into the comforting warmth of the water, her long legs wrapped around him, sliding smoothly across his slick skin. Making him shiver. Making him hard. Her lips caught his just as his legs collapsed beneath them. Floating in the embrace of the dancing waves, they made love. Slowly. Endlessly. As if for the first time. As if for the last

-----

His arms were wrapped about her so tightly she could barely breathe. She wouldn’t have had it any other way. With a low sigh, she allowed her head to fall back against his shoulder and tried to pretend that time was standing still.

He looked down on her in awe. Her long legs stretched out toward the fire pit, the flames turning her skin to gold. He could feel her heavy breasts, soft and warm against the arms he held tight against her body. She was some mythical beast, some wild sprite, some beautiful gift from the Gods. She had never been meant to touch the dirt, yet here she was in his arms.

“What are you thinking?” She asked softly, her slender fingers playing across the back of his hand as if the need to touch him were an unquenchable thirst, impossible to sate.


“Mmm.... I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he said with a slow smile.

“Baby, if I’ve got it, you’ve seen it,” she laughingly replied. “But… I was thinking how good it feels to be with you. How empty it felt when he told me you died.” Her voice trailed off, even the memory of that pain overwhelming.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you...”

“No! No, it worked. John, you made Mikos relax his guard. You.... If you had come here, like he asked.... Mikos wants to destroy you, John. He is completely fixated. On you, on… me.”

“You wonder why I think you would be better off without me?” he spat out tightly, his anger flashing out at the thought of how once again he had brought trouble to her door. Trouble and more than trouble, for if Mikos was truly John’s blood, then he would never willingly give Marlena up. Not if she sparked even a hint of the depth of feeling that pulsed through John with every beat of his heart.

“How can you be so cute and yet so wrong?” She said with a grin, intent now on shifting his thoughts away from Mikos and the danger he posed.

“You flatter me if you even pretend that I am worthy of you,” he answered gently, meaning every word he said.

“Is that what you were thinking just now?” She prodded. “Considering all of the ways in which I am perfect?”

She arched her eyebrows haughtily, and this time he gave in to her. A faint smile on his face, he allowed himself to nestle against the soft waves of her hair. “I was thinking that God lost an angel the day you fell to earth,” he teased, trying to break himself from the sense of unease that deepened with each passing moment.

“Does that cheesy pick-up line usually work for you?” she asked with a chuckle.

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the only woman I ever use cheesy pick-up lines on,” he whispered as he bent down to run his tongue lightly up the curve of her throat.

“You don’t need cheesy pick-up lines anymore. Don’t you remember, I already agreed to marry you,” she replied breathlessly, almost frightened at the ease with which his touch excited her.

“Mmm,” he groaned, dropping his head with a sigh. “You aren’t going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Not on your life,” she answered distractedly, both hands entwining themselves around his left hand and the ring it now bore. A ring from which blazed the image of a phoenix. “You took your wedding ring off,” she finally muttered.


When silence was his only reply, she forced herself to continue, the lack of a simple band of gold now looming large and somehow important. “You wore it in Salem. In West Virginia. You never took it off, not since you came back in Salem.”

“Didn’t realize you’d noticed,” he murmured uncomfortably, not wanting to think of how he had taken off his ring. Not wanting to remember the time without her, or to think of the time ahead when he would leave her again.

“Are all men so dense, or just you? I put that ring on your finger. Of course I noticed!” She tried to joke, but the tension carried through in her voice.

With a sigh that was half moan, he answered the question she refused to ask. “Bo has the ring, Marlena. I gave it to him.”

“Why does Bo have my ring?” she asked, stiffening in his grip as a hint of anger tinged her voice.

“I thought it was my ring?” he noted mildly.

“Whatever. Why did you give it to Bo? Why is it not on your finger where it is supposed to be? Why are you wearing a stupid bird ring instead of your wedding ring, mister?” She knew there was no point in getting angry, but the hormones were now raging and she would swear that damned bird on his finger was grinning at her.

‘Oh, Jeesh!’ he thought. It was never good when she got ‘that’ tone in her voice. “I told Bo that he was responsible for you. For your safety. I told him.... It’s up to him whether I wear that ring again. Whether he thinks I’m good enough, safe enough, for you to marry.”

As soon as the words fell from his lips, he knew they were a mistake. He cringed as her response cut through the cool air like a scimitar.

“Why exactly is Bo deciding who I should marry? Shouldn’t that be my decision to make?” she asked acerbically.

“Um.... You have very bad taste in men, Marlena. I thought it was better to leave it up to Bo,” he said, wincing slightly as if he expected her to hit him.

She whirled in his arms to face him, hazel eyes flashing fire. “I what?! I do not have bad taste in men!”

“Well, you did marry me...” He trailed off, hoping his innocent look would buy him a reprieve. After a moments thought on her part, it did.

With a brief chuckled, she craned upward to brush a light kiss against his lips. “That’s true,” she noted with a resigned sigh. “Just be sure you get it back.”

“Um, okay,” he muttered as she again snuggled down against his chest. Briefly he considered mentioning that Bo had strict instructions to destroy any perceived threat, especially if the threat came in the form of John himself. No, that was definitely not a discussion he felt like having with her at the moment.

“What time is it?” She asked with seeming nonchalance, bringing up the one thing he wanted to discuss even less than his missing wedding ring.

“Don’t know,” he muttered with a shrug.

“John?” she prodded, unwilling to let him pretend any longer.

“Maybe an hour, hour and a half before dawn,” he answered, not bothering to dig around in the sand for his watch. He knew what time it was, had counted every minute that had passed from the moment she had decided to return to Mikos. He had hoped she would forget until it was too late to go back. He should have known better. Where her children were concerned, there would be no forgetting.

“We should go,” she said, her voice growing distant, and he could feel the space between them widening even as he held her in his arms.

“No.” The word tore from him unbidden and he realized its futility even as he felt her stiffen and pull away.

Rising to her feet, she bent down and pulled his T-shirt from its sandy resting place. Tugging the black shirt over her head, she tried not to think about what she was doing. Fixing her thoughts on her children, she pushed away her worries for herself. Harder to dismiss were her thoughts of the child she carried inside. John’s child. Whatever else happened, she could let no harm come to his child.

“You look good in that. Maybe you should wear it more often,” he noted from his position before the fire. She did look good, even with the tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes. The shirt hung to mid-thigh, highlighting those long slim legs and bringing out the glow of her skin. He doubted she had ever looked more beautiful, but then, he thought that every time he saw her.

“You’re stalling,” she noted quietly.

With a sigh he dropped his head to rub wearily at eyes that now seemed to burn. “How do you even know you can convince Mikos to bring the children back to you, Marlena? Bo and I will find them, leave this to us. You don’t need to go back.”

“John, I cannot have this argument with you again! Please! You know I have to stay until we are certain the children are safe. As long as I am with him, Mikos will do nothing to hurt them. He won’t! John, the formal ball is in only a few days. Mikos will have to bring the children back for that. He knows that I won’t go along with even the pretense of a wedding announcement if I don’t see the children, if I don’t know they are safe. I will make him bring the children to me. He wants this wedding too much to deny me.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” he asked bitterly, moving to pull a pair of dry fatigues from his pack.

“How do you think it makes me feel?” She whispered softly, finally allowing him to see her hurt.

“Shit! I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly, startled into looking over at her. Draped in his shirt, she looked so small and alone. The last thing she needed was to argue with him. Grabbing his jacket, he moved to her side and wrapped the heavy canvas about her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, taking her into a hug that threatened to squeeze the breath from her lungs.

If he had his preference, he would have held her forever. But it was not what she wanted, certainly not what she needed right now. Finally, he forced himself to pull back. “You’re sure?” he asked gently.

Unwilling to meet his gaze, she merely nodded. “It’s only a few days, John. Only until the ball. You can come for us then, take us all home.”

“It’s a date,” he answered, tilting her face up until he could see into her eyes. “I will be there,” he said firmly, wanting her to know that it was true.

Finally, she unleashed one of those sparkling smiles, the kind she saved for him alone. “I know you will be there. You are always there for me, the one constant in my universe.”

She turned then and ducked through the narrow cutout in the iron door. As he followed her from the chamber, only the rocks heard his vow. “Always.”

He swung the door to her bedroom silently open, half expecting to face a squad of soldiers. Half regretful that he didn’t. It would have been easier than the thought of leaving her alone in here, vulnerable to whatever Mikos chose to do.

Marlena slipped into the room, unwilling to face John. To see the fear, the sense of betrayal that she knew flickered in the depths of those blue eyes. To allow him to see the fears that lay hidden within her own heart. This would be hard enough without having to look at him.

He pulled the door closed behind him, watching her as she walked through the darkened bedroom, her fingers lightly running across the furnishings as if to remind herself of where she was. As if to remind herself of why she was here.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked softly, hoping for an excuse, any excuse, to take her away from this place.

“John, I’m sure,” she replied without emotion, refusing to rehash the issue. Walking slowly through the big room, she finally pulled to a stop before the fireplace, her eyes drawn to the painting that held a place of honor above the mantel. Mikos, in period dress astride a prancing white Arabian. A shudder ran through her as she studied his features, the feel those thick fingers still a dirty memory on her skin.

“Is that him? My brother?” John asked, moving to stand by her side, though hesitant to actually touch her.

“Yes,” she almost whispered, keeping the tremble from her voice only with an act of will.

John eyes narrowed, searching the portrait as if some trick of paint or pigment or brushstroke would reveal the soul of the man beneath. The soul of his enemy. His nemeses. His brother. Blood would tell, he knew that now. Blood they most definitely shared. John could see it in the man’s features, the high cheekbone, the curve of the jaw. “He looks just like me,” he muttered distractedly.

“He is nothing like you!” she responded, venom in her voice as if he had committed some sacrilege of which he was unaware.

His hand reached out to brush against her arm, but she jerked away from the touch. Turning from him, she went to perch atop the bed, watching his broad back. Seeing the muscles twitch as he fought the instinct to go to her. She studied him as he stood before the picture and wondered that she had ever thought there was a resemblance between the two men. They were as alike as a club to a straight razor. If there were any similarities between the two in concept, they were lost in execution. Mikos had John’s features, but blunter, harder, more course. His black eyes glinted out from beneath his broad brow with the predatory gaze of a scavenger bird. There was nothing of passion or warmth to him, only an emptiness that could never be filled. It hurt to think they shared the same genes. The same blood. The same anything. John was nothing like him at all.

She refused his touch and he could scarcely blame her. Staring up at his brother’s face, he finally realized that he had come full circle. This was home, who and what he was, glaring down at him in the face of his brother. The evil, the ugliness that had born him ultimately reclaiming its own. And she asked him to leave her here, at the mercy of monsters who had no soul?

“Behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him,” he intoned softly, the picture suddenly stirring a memory of chanting priests and sweet incense.

“John?” She asked hesitantly, not liking the sound of his voice, not liking the fear that cut through it.

Turning, he finally met her eyes. “Mikos is death, Marlena. If you stay here, only evil will come of it.”

Almost angry with him, she pulled her legs to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as if to shut herself away from him, from his words that might change her mind. Sitting in this room, thoughts of Mikos running through her mind, it would be all too easy to let John have his way. “We have had this conversation. I can’t leave. Not now. Not until the children are safe. You know that!”

His heart hammered against his chest, each strong beat screaming the wrongness of this. In desperation, he crossed to her. Fell to his knees, as if in prayer. As if in supplication. “What I know is that if you stay, he will hurt you. Marlena, don’t ask this of me. You know I would do anything for you, but please, not this.”

“He won’t hurt me, John. You won’t let him,” she breathed out. And as the tears finally demanded their release, her hands reached down to knot in his hair in a painful grip. Pulling him to her, she gave in to one last kiss.

He could feel her trembling as he wrapped his arms around that fragile body and tasted lips made salty by her falling tears. He deepened the kiss and held her tight, pretending for the moment that no one could take her from his arms again. He let her go only when she turned her face away, breaking the kiss with a finality he could not argue. Helplessly, he put out his hand, as if somehow his touch could dry her eyes.

With a sharp shake of her head, she halted him in his tracks. “Go, John. Please, go while I still have the strength to send you,” she choked out raggedly.

When he still hesitated, she reached for his outstretched hand. Soft skin brushed across calloused fingers as she turned his hand over and laid a gentle kiss in his palm. “Go,” she whispered, her breath on his flesh making him ache.

Silently, he rose to his feet and she reluctantly let his hand fall from her fingers. Unable to watch, she listened as his footsteps marked his passage to the door. At the last instance, she turned to catch one final glimpse of him, only to find his eyes locked on hers. Those eyes shone, aglow with an unholy light, and she had a moment to be afraid of what she had done to him by making him leave.

He cracked a manic grin that bared his teeth and stated his words flatly, as if etching them into stone. “No one will keep me from you, Marlena- not man, nor God, nor death itself. Know that, lady.”

With the barest whisper of sound, he was gone. 

-----

The sound of the door pulling shut behind him seemed to echo with a forlorn finality. Sitting in the middle of the big bed, she doubted that she had ever felt so alone in her life. Reaching down, she rubbed her hands softly against her still flat stomach, wishing she could have told him, wishing she could have stayed with him. “Just a little while longer,” she whispered to the life she carried inside. “A little longer and your daddy will take us all home.”

She knew she should get up. Shower, change her clothes, hide the T-shirt she now wore. She didn’t want to give up even that small piece of him, and with a sigh she decided not to. Not now, not for a little while at least. She could grant herself that much reprieve. Curling up in a small ball, she pulled the covers about her and tried to lose herself in the heady scent of him that still clung to her skin and clothes. Closing her eyes, she sought sleep, secure in the knowledge that he would come to her in her dreams. He would always come to her.

John stood in the hallway, unable to move. Even being this far away from her hurt and he could not imagine that days must pass before he would see her again. Before he would touch her again. The sound of boots echoed down the hall, and without giving it a second thought he stepped across the hall and wrenched open the door to Dimera’s room. Sidling into the darkened room, he pulled the door shut and listened to the footsteps as they marched past his hiding place.

“Who’s there?” a familiar voice called sharply.

“The tooth fairy, who do you think?” he shot back, somehow comforted by the old man’s presence. If there was anyone who could understand how he felt about leaving Marlena, it would be Stefano.

“Alexander?” a woman’s voice muttered groggily, causing John to freeze in his tracks.

“Uh, Vivian. I wasn’t expecting...” John trailed off awkwardly as Stefano flipped on the bedside lamp to reveal Vivian’s slender form curled possessively in his arms.

“Didn’t you teach the boy any manners?” Vivian asked peevishly, closing her eyes and resting her head on Stefano’s bare chest.

With a start, Stefano noted the time. Sitting up abruptly, he slapped a meaty hand against the ample rump that was barely covered by the thin white sheet. “Vivian, you have to go. It’s late, people will be about.”

Disentangling himself from her arms, he rose naked from the bed and crossed to the chair where his dressing gown had been carelessly tossed the night before.

“Five more minutes,” she muttered, snuggling against the pillow as he shrugged into the quilted gown and turned to face John.

“You should not be here, John. You should have been gone hours ago,” Stefano noted, shooting John a worried look.

Still standing before the closed door, John was finding it difficult to rip his eyes from the woman in the bed. “Uh...,” he muttered uncomfortably.

“It’s not like this is the first time you saw me with a woman in my bed,” Stefano noted dryly, moving to pour a glass of water from a pitcher on the table.

“Well I guess it was never my aunt before,” John replied, finally managing a shrug. “And she is a bit older than your usual.”

“Excuse me?” an irritated voice cut in, as Vivian finally cracked her eyelids open.

“What he meant was that, like fine wine, true beauty and complexity come to a woman only with the passage of time,” Stefano filled in smoothly, shooting a glare in John’s direction.

“Yea. That’s what I meant,” John said, blushing as he faced his aunt.

“Well, in that case...,” Vivian muttered, rising from the bed and wrapping the sheet around her, “You are forgiven.”

John watched as she stalked past him to the bathroom, slamming the door in a way that suggested he was far from forgiven. With a rueful shrug, he glanced back at Dimera. “Sorry. Just wasn’t expecting...”

Waving his hand dismissively, Stefano sank down into one of the chairs at the small table. “She will get over it. Come sit down. Tell me what went wrong. I’ll assume you weren’t discovered or I would have heard the alarms by now?”

Moving to the chair opposite Dimera, John rubbed a hand across his tired eyes. “She wouldn’t leave. When she found out Mikos still had the children, she wouldn’t leave.”

“I told you she wouldn’t leave without the children. You should know her better than that,” was the unsympathetic response.

“Thank you. ‘I told you so,’ is such a helpful analysis,” John answered in irritation. When Stefano only cocked one eyebrow and waited for him to continue, he let loose a small sigh. “I did not plan on giving her a choice, Stefano. My primary concern was not her preference on the matter.”

“So what stopped you?”

“I’m not very good at saying ‘no’ to her,” was the rueful answer.

Chuckling, Stefano leaned back in his seat and studied the man before him. All of that training, all of those years of death and destruction, and never a hint of remorse. All of that destroyed by the simple touch of a woman’s hand. “I have noticed that flaw in you,” he finally replied.

Rolling his eyes at the patronizing response, John said simply, “She was right, and you know it. With her gone, Mikos probably would have taken it out on the children. I knew it, I just.... Stefano, Mikos worries me. The longer she is left with him.... I don’t know what I would do if something happened to her. She is my life, Stefano.”

“I know she is,” Stefano said softly. “But.... The children. What did Marlena tell you of her children?” Dark eyes searched John’s face, looking for some hint that he knew of Marlena’s pregnancy. Some hint that he knew that she carried his child.

The broad shoulders merely shrugged. “She knew less than Vivian. She didn’t even realize that Mikos still had the kids until I told her. Last she heard, Mikos had shipped them off to parts unknown.”

“Mmm,” Dimera grunted, nodding sympathetically. Marlena was no fool. She recognized what the news of the pregnancy would do to John. She knew he would have never let her return to Mikos carrying such a fragile little life within her. Briefly, Stefano wondered what John would have done to protect all of his children if he had known Marlena was pregnant. He already knew the answer to that. The man would have stormed the castle and he wouldn’t have stopped until Mikos lay cold and lifeless at his feet. That he would have succeeded, Dimera had no doubt. That he would have died in the effort would have been beside the point to him. With a small grin, Stefano gave homage to the wisdom of the woman he had so long coveted.

“So what do you do now?” Dimera asked, his attention again shifting to John.

“I wait,” was the muted response. “Marlena thinks we will have our chance at the masked ball this weekend. She’s certain that Mikos will bring the children back for it, if only to ensure her cooperation in the announcement of their ‘wedding’,” he concluded, spitting the word out like a curse.

“She’s probably right, you know,” Stefano replied, trying to temper the anger that flashed behind those blue eyes.

“Yea, I know she’s right. She usually is,” John answered, softening his tone. “It’s just...”

He trailed off as Vivian swept back into the bedroom, her hair and make-up the image of perfection and only the wrinkles in her dress giving the slightest hint that she was still wearing the same clothes from the night before.

“Stefano, it was a lovely evening until we were so rudely interrupted,” she said, shooting a nasty look in John’s direction.

“It was my pleasure, truly,” he responded with a smile, giving her a brief nod of his head.

Vivian ignored John completely, holding herself very straight as she made her way out the door. Her nephew might be a bit of a pig, but she wanted to make certain that he did not delude himself into believing he had chased her out of Dimera’s room.

As the door pulled softly shut, Stefano gave into a soft chuckle. “Your aunt is a very intriguing woman, John.”

With a shrug, John dismissed her. “I’m not interested in my aunt, Stefano. I’m interested in my brother,” he stated flatly.

Watching him closely, Stefano knew there was more that he wanted to say. It was almost as if he were ashamed, or even afraid, to do so. In all of the years Dimera had known the man, he had never known him to be phased by anything. Only Marlena had managed to crack that thick shell, only she had been able to drive John to uncertainty or hesitation. On the eve of the coming war, it was not a trait he wished to see emerge. “What about your brother, John?” he prodded, intent on making John face any issues he had with his family now rather than in the heat of battle.

Irritated by Dimera’s intrusion into a subject he would just as soon ignore, John gave vent to a long sigh and rubbed his hands against the back of his neck. He needed Stefano’s insight, even if he didn’t like the fact. Dimera had met the man, that he would have dissected his personality was a certainty. Shaking his head in frustration, he approached the issue obliquely. “I saw a picture of him. In Marlena’s room, there’s a painting of him. He looks like me, a lot like me,” he said, watching Stefano from beneath his brow.

Uncertain of John’s point, Dimera simply nodded. “There is a family resemblance, yes.”

Shrugging uncomfortable, John rose to his feet and began slowly pacing the floor. “Marlena said, she said we were nothing alike. But… I could see it.... What do you think would have happened to me if I had never met you?” He asked, coming to a sudden halt in the center of the room and fixing his eyes on Dimera’s face.

Startled by the abrupt change in topic, Stefano took a moment to gather his thoughts. To try to figure out the reason behind John’s question. “Well, you were very young to be out on your own,” he said carefully. “I’m not sure you would have survived. If you had, most likely you would have spent some time in jail. You are just a little too… proud. On the streets, by yourself… that would have caused you trouble.”

“So you think I would have ended up some low level hood?” John asked, no hint of insult in his voice.

Stefano chuckled. “No, not you. If you had managed to grow up on your own, I have no doubt you would have become a powerful force in whatever you chose to do. It’s very likely you would have eventually ended up as one of my competitors!” With a fond smile, he looked over the man who for so long had been his strong right arm. He would not have wanted to face him as a rival. Few men would. One of the smartest moves he had ever made was to bring the boy home with him, and he hadn’t even known it at the time.

As he watched, Dimera again thought he saw a flicker of shame in those blue eyes.

“So, you don’t think I might have grown up to be a lawyer or an accountant or a cop or something?”

He could not help the spasm of laughter that erupted at John’s question, even though he knew it was the exact wrong thing to do at this point. Shaking his head ruefully, he gave an honest response. “Do you think that, John? Do you really?”

His fists clenched in irritation, but John forced himself to walk back over and sit opposite Dimera. Finding himself unable to meet Stefano’s gaze, he dropped his eyes to study the top of the table. Very softly, he said, “I’ve always been… angry. You know that. Know how my temper is, or maybe just my temperament. Always. Always it has burned inside me, this need to fight. To destroy. I thought it was because of how I grew up. First my… my foster father. Then you...”

“John,” Stefano tried to cut in.

“No! No, jeesh, I’m not blaming you, Stefano. Really. I was already screwed up before I ever met you. Just, well, you didn’t exactly expose me to much that would have ‘gentled’ those existing tendencies, shall we say,” he finished, finally managing to shoot Stefano a reassuring grin, even if it was half-hearted.

With a grudging nod, Stefano acknowledged the accuracy of the statement. “You’ve never discussed your childhood, John. But no, no one would ever accuse me of doing much more than curbing your wildest excesses.”

“Yea, well there’s nothing you need to know about my childhood. Just that, I thought it might make sense of who I am. Of how I am. But Mikos.... Mikos is just like me, isn’t he? It’s something in the blood.”

Ah, there it was, Dimera thought. Ever since Marlena’s intrusion in his life, John had been confronted with the difference between the man he had been as Roman Brady and the man he truly was. Apparently it was a difference he was uncomfortable with. “Why do you even care, John?” Dimera asked in a cold voice. “What difference could it possibly make if you were born to be a warrior of if you were taught to be one?”

Almost as if ashamed, John again dropped his eyes. “I thought I could change,” he said softly. “I thought if I wanted to bad enough, I could change.”

“Change? Into what?!” Dimera exploded, completely surprised by the comment. “You are not going to sit there, wearing my ring, may I add, and tell me that you want to run off and become an accountant!”

“Fuck you!” John spat, jerking back from the table. “I knew you would never understand this! Why the hell do I bother...”

He watched the tense man pace, anger evident in every long stride he took. Dimera had no doubt that if he approached him, John would swing on him. “Yes, this is most definitely the reaction of an ‘accountant’,” he retorted dryly.

John merely shot him an ugly look and allowed his suddenly tired body to sink back against the bed.

“I asked her to marry me,” he finally stated, staring Dimera in the eye. Daring him to make an issue of it.

Stefano shrugged. “And I assume she said ‘yes’. So what?”

“So I thought we could go home. I thought I could give her some kind of normal life. A few guards, a good security system, but basically a life like we used to have. A life with a normal guy for a husband. A guy who isn’t constantly about to snap, to lash out, to hurt people. A guy who would never hurt the people he loves. I thought I could give her a husband who is nothing like Mikos Alamain!”

And there it was, the fear that lay beneath the anger. A fear that Dimera could understand. For a long moment, Stefano simply studied the man who sat on the bed. John had put his life on the line for him, too many times to count. The least he could do was give him some peace of mind. And so Dimera told him what he needed to hear. “You are nothing like Mikos, John. Marlena was right. There is nothing of him in you, nothing you need to fear. You act. You do what needs to be done. But there is nothing of cruelty, nothing of spite in what you do.”

John simply looked down, watching his hands as they formed into fists. Seeing the blood that had stained them, time after time after time. Remembering the feelings as he had ended men’s lives, snuffing them out as if they were mere annoyances. His head began to pound, the pain causing him to clench his eyes tight shut. Softly, he replied, “We both know that’s a lie, don’t we.”

“John...,” Stefano tried to interject. John cut him off with a shake of his head.

“Look, I’m going to crash out here today” he said tiredly, changing the subject. “I just want to be near her and there are too damn many guards floating around to leave now anyway. Tonight I’ll go back to the cavern and contact Bo. See if there is any word on the children, start making arrangements for the night of the ball. I want to be certain that there are no mistakes this time. This time, everybody gets out. Everybody goes home.”

With a brief nod, Dimera let the issue drop. “We all go home. That’s all that matters, John. Remember that.”

Two days. Two whole days since Mikos had locked her away in this room. Almost that long since she had last seen John, since she had last seen anybody. She wondered how long it would take for such isolation to drive a person mad. In her case, she would guess not long at all.

Pacing the floor for what seemed the millionth time, she tried to ignore the rumbling in her stomach. Tried to ignore the fact that it had been two days since she had eaten. Tried to ignore what that could do to her unborn child.

When she heard the key rattle in the lock, she almost dismissed it as a hallucination. By the time she recognized that it was real, he was already standing there. She had thought anyone’s company, even Mikos’, would be preferable to being alone. Seeing him standing in the doorway, watching her with those possessive eyes, she realized that she had been wrong.

“Did you miss me?” He asked, that familiar mocking smile curving his lips.

She bit back the retort that sprang to her lips. Now was not the time to inflame him. Now was the time to set him up. Allowing the fear she felt to show in her eyes, she hesitantly replied. “I… I don’t want to be alone anymore, Mikos. Please? I promise I won’t do anything more to… to displease you. Maybe I could come down for dinner with you tonight? Please?”

He chuckled lightly, pleased at this sign that he knew her so very well. She might not have been banging on the door, begging for him to release her, but this was not far from it. “If I had known how much you missed me, I would have come for you sooner, Marlena. And yes, I would be delighted with your presence at dinner,” he responded with false gallantry.

Stepping close, he took her cool hand in his own. Studying her face, he noted the hollows around her eyes, the quiver in her body. Oh yes, now was most definitely the time. She would do whatever he told her to do. Raising her hand slowly to his lips, he planted a dry kiss on the back of her hand. “We have to finalize the plans for our engagement party, after all. I am certain that you will have many ideas of how we make the evening… special.”

He felt her stiffen in his grip and for a moment wondered if she could still muster the strength to resist him. And then his question was answered.

“Of course, Mikos,” she replied faintly. “Though I am sure that whatever you have planned will be more than I could ever hope for.”

He could not help the triumphant smile that split his face. She was no different from any other woman. Perhaps a little stronger, a little more intelligent, but in the end, she was no match for him. With a half bow, he said smoothly, “Then I will see you for dinner in one hour. Formal dress, of course.”

His confidence would have been severely shaken had he seen the look in her eyes as he turned and walked away. Marlena was very careful that he didn’t.

“Bo, I need those men here and I need them now!” John snapped into the mike of the two-way radio.

“John, the roads are still blocked from that snowstorm last night. It’s too damn far to take the snowmobiles from here. They don’t have the fuel capacity to make it in, and we don’t have the room or the equipment to carry extra fuel. Look, we’ve got plows clearing the road now. I have bribed every official I can find and the road through the mountains is their first priority. That’s all we can do, dammit!” Bo’s voice cracked out, his frustration evident.

With a muted sigh John shook his head and tried to reign in his impatience. “How long till you get here?” he asked more calmly.

“ETA to the cave is 12 hours. That puts us in sometime after four a.m. if we bust our asses and nothing else goes wrong. John, you need to hold off until we get there! Do you read me?”

“Bo, the ball starts in less than four hours. There is no way I can wait for you. I already explained this! Vivian brought word from Marlena, she forced him into bringing the children back, but only for a brief appearance. He’s planning on spiriting them off the premises at the end of the ball. That means midnight at the latest and there is no way you will be here by then. I’m not losing this opportunity, Bo. I go in with or without you, you’ll just have to get here as fast as you can.”

“John, if we can’t get in, they can’t get out. You need to wait or you’re going to blow this!”

Gritting his teeth in frustration, John gave an irritated shake of his head. “They’re landing choppers in a field near the town. The snow on the ground isn’t going to make a bit of difference to them Bo. I’m not waiting, and that’s final. Dimera’s here if I need backup. That will have to be enough.”

“Yea! Dimera! That’s very comforting, John!” Even through the crackle of the static, Bo’s sarcasm still managed to come through, loud and clear. “Look, if they are landing choppers, why don’t we?”

“Then we are back to a frontal assault, Bo. The whole point of this exercise was to avoid that! Shit, if there was another way don’t you think I would take it! Look, I got the equipment you dropped yesterday. The tunnels are already wired. All I have to do is get Marlena and the kids down to the cave and then I’ll blow the tunnels. Once we are all down here, there is no way in hell Mikos can reach us. We’ll soak our bunions in the hot springs and wait for your sorry ass to show. Now unless you’ve got any better idea, I’ve got work to do!”

“Um, we could hold off, John. Wait for a better chance? Try to track the kids when Mikos sends them away?”

“She’s not staying here another night, Bo. It’s been too long as it is. I won’t let her put herself at risk any longer. The discussion is closed,” John stated flatly, his tone brooking no dissent.

For a long moment, the only sound from the radio was the white noise of the static. Finally, Bo’s voice cracked out faintly across the airwaves. “Roger that. We’ll be there when we get there. John… be careful.”

“See you soon,” was the tight reply. “Over and out.”

For long moments he simply stood, staring at the radio and trying to resist the urge to smash it. Finally, he allowed the mouthpiece to fall from his hand. Damn! He needed Bo, he needed his men. The plan could not be carried out with just him and Dimera, there was no way in hell. The masked ball would have provided ample opportunity to sneak his people in among the revelers, blanketing Marlena and the children with a protective wall and rushing them out of the hall before Mikos and his security team even knew what had hit them. Two men simply couldn’t do it. Two men would have to do it.

Turning his mind from problems he couldn’t solve, he tried to focus on the night ahead. Digging through the stack of equipment, he finally found the package Jensen had included for him in the airdrop the night before. He distractedly pulled the costume from the confines of the dry bag, willing the minutes to tick by faster. Waiting was too damn hard. Waiting while she was left to deal with the desires of a madman. A man who wanted nothing more than to possess her. God, he should never let her return to the castle. He should have found some other way to reach the children. His failure put her at risk, and if any wrong was done her, the fault would be his. He should have never let her go.

He could feel the hollow thud of his heart against his ribs, and forced himself to be patient. There was no point in hurrying, he had hours before the start of the ball. An hour at least before he could begin to pick his way down the long tunnel, checking the wiring on the C4 explosives as he went. He doubted the blast would bring down the castle itself, but it would sure as hell collapse the tunnels. Mikos would definitely know his brother had come calling, not that John planned on leaving him alive to contemplate the issue.

His thoughts elsewhere, he shook out the rolled up clothes, wondering how on earth Jensen came up with this stuff. He had sent word to Marlena that he would be dressed as a hunter, a bird’s mask covering his face. He had left the details up to Jensen’s imagination, requesting only that he include a cape. He could hide an arsenal beneath the flowing material of a full-length cape, and it would fit right in with the medieval theme. With a smile at the thought, John considered the wisdom of carrying a sawed off shotgun strapped to his back when he went in. His internal debate over weaponry died as the clothes unrolled themselves and a bundled mound of feathers fell to the floor. For a moment, John simply stood, staring at the garment in his hands. A pair of black leather pants stared back at him. A pair of black leather pants that looked really tight. Holy Jesus, he was going to look like a pimp. The knee-high black riding boots that had dropped to the floor were no improvement. Muttering a curse, he decided to put out a contract on Jensen at the next available opportunity.

What was Marlena going to think when she saw him like this? A grin crept across his face and he couldn’t help a faint chuckle. Who was he kidding, she was going to love this. With an exasperated sigh, he sat down and began trying to tug the pants up past his knees. With a grim irony, he decided that maybe this was a good sign. No way in hell was he going to die dressed like this- not even the Gods could be so cruel.

-----

He slipped through the crowded room, his eyes darting from face to face in an attempt to find the one he sought. As he passed, the revelers seemed to dissolve away. If not by conscious will, then by instinct alone, the party goers kept their distance from the dark form that glided through their midst.

If asked, Jensen would have said that he had chosen black clothing because it was practical. It would blend in with the shadows. It would not show the stains of John’s passage through the tunnels. Of course, Jensen would have been lying. He had chosen the outfit for the effect it would have. There was an esthetic appeal in the image of John stalking through a room like some dark angel bent on revenge, black cloak billowing out behind him like a pair of furled wings. Besides, he had known it would make John incredibly uncomfortable, and that he could not resist.

People were everywhere, a colorful whirl of ball gowns and masked faces. Beasts and birds, angels and devils, they flitted maddeningly about him, none of them the right one. His palm itched with the desire to grab his guns and open fire on the crowd. Eliminate these useless ones who kept him from finding her. A laughing young woman in a cat-eyed mask stumbled into him, grabbing onto his arm and casting an appreciative glance at his masked face. His hand was halfway to her throat before he could stop himself, and he muttered a silent curse as she backed away from him. Damn, he was simply no good at subterfuge.

Hands clenched tightly at his sides, he tried hard not to look dangerous as he made his way to the wall. She was the guest of honor. She had to be here somewhere. Trumpets sounded from the rear of the room, leaving John to shake his head at this man’s pompous nature. Then she walked in, and he couldn’t think of anything at all.

She had told him to look for a white dove. Undoubtably, he had found one. She stood at the top of the staircase, her hand resting lightly on the arm of a man dressed all in black, a bear mask covering his face. Even from a distance, John could make out the tremble in her fingers that no one else could see. Slowly she made her way down to the waiting crowd, craning their faces up for a look at the future Lady Alamain.

God, she looked like she was floating as she made her way ever closer. The white silk of the ball gown flowed out from a tight bodice that was covered in gold beadwork. The princess neckline plunged to reveal the firm swell of her breasts while the off-the shoulder sleeves emphasized her elegant carriage. No one else on earth could be that beautiful, he thought to himself, his blood roaring in his ears. The fact that her face was covered by the ornate mask of white and gold feathers was meaningless, he would have known it was her simply by the grace with which she moved.

She had seen him the moment she walked out onto the second floor landing. It was if he were the only one in the room, every other human being fading away into the background. His blue eyes blazed at her, a beacon in that sea of humanity, and she wondered that she was the only one to see it. A half-mask covered the top of his face, but did nothing to conceal him from her. Then a small smile curved her lips, and she allowed herself one second to wonder who had picked out the costume he was wearing. He would never have done it himself, of that she was certain.

A black bird, he had told her to watch for. A black bird, he was not. The mask did indeed have black feathers that swept back over his forehead and down the back of his head, the feathers mixing with dark locks of hair to become one. But while the feathers were black, the eyes were set off by fine gold and red threads that emphasized their exotic shape. As if to complete the image, a dark cloak spread over his broad shoulders, the soft material pooling about him like half-closed wings. Beneath the folds of the cloak, the red satin of the lining glinted. When he raised his head to look up at her the material shifted so that he seemed to stand in a pool of fire. Hysterical laughter threatened, and she wondered who had had the audacity to send him to her masked as the phoenix.

She was surprised when she found that they had reached the bottom of the stairs, and allowed Mikos to lead her through the bodies that pressed in on them from all sides. Numb to everything but the need to see him, she was swept along as she tried to get a glimpse of his tall form above the crowd of people. Suddenly, he was there, and she could breathe again. She watched as the people scattered from his path. Noted the play in the muscles of his thighs as he paced toward her. Felt the panic rise as she realized that he wasn’t going to stop, his every movement a promise of destruction

Without realizing he was doing it, John cut through the crowd, bearing down on her like a tidal wave about to hit. An instance before impact, her eyes caught his and he pulled up short. Those eyes had flashed a warning, and he knew she would never forgive him if he didn’t secure the children first. He stood amidst the throng lining the long aisle that led up to the banquet table at the front of the room. He stood and he watched as she passed him by. His hand crept behind his back to rub against the cool wood of a pistol grip, his own religious icon, his direct line to God. If his brother was to be sacrificed at her alter, then so be it.

Mikos stopped at the front of the room and turned to face the crowd, gently touching his lips to the hand of his future bride. John watched unmoving, the gun slipping from its holster and into his palm seemingly of its own accord. If the man touched her again, he would die.

Marlena grimaced and tried to make it appear a smile. With the slightest of tugs, she pulled away from Mikos’ grasp. Ignoring her disobedience for the moment, the man simply nodded his head in the direction of the orchestra and held out his hand to accompany her in the first dance of the evening. Hoping her distaste did not show, she reached out to accept and stepped down to the ballroom floor. She hated the feel of him against her bare skin and he knew it. With a smile of satisfaction, he crushed her tightly against his chest, his hands digging into her tender flesh almost as if he wished to mark her as his own. He whirled her away and she closed her eyes, trying not to retch.

The gun was in his hand, its reassuring bulk urging him to finish it now. He saw thick hands sink down into white skin that shrank from the touch and his decision was made. Stepping forward, he sought a clear line of fire. She whirled around once in a cloud of white and gold and then was lost to him amid the flow of couples who now joined in with the waltz. His gun still nestled beneath the folds of the cloak, John drifted back to the wall and waited for her to reemerge.

“Mikos, where are the children?” she whispered harshly in his ear, the panic causing her to push the man regardless of the way he might react. John was here. He would not wait, of that she was certain. She had to know where her children were and she had to know now.

“I promised you that your children would attend,” he said softly, nuzzling her ear and enjoying the scent of her perfume. “You don’t doubt that I am a man of my word, do you?”

She almost slapped him then. Almost pulled away to provide John with the opportunity she knew he was waiting for. Only her children could keep her in this man’s arms. Allowing the anger to creep into her voice, she pulled her head back to look into Mikos’ face. “If you do not send for them right now I will walk off this dance floor in a manner that will leave no doubt in anyone’s mind what I think of you, Mikos. Do you doubt that I am a woman of my word?”

For an instance his step faltered and the smile slipped from his face. She would do it. He had no doubt of that. If he could not prove that her children were alive and well, she would put an end to the charade he had so far forced her to act out. Perhaps it was time to remind her of what it was that she had to lose. Tightening his grip on the slender form he held in his arms he pulled her to him. Glancing up, he caught Dimitri’s watchful eye and gave him a sharp nod before leaning down to whisper in her ear. “You know my greatest pleasure is to fulfill your every desire, Marlena. Your children are on their way in as we speak,” he murmured in silky tones.

She looked up to read his eyes just as the music came to a stop. Polite applause sounded throughout the room and as she absently joined in her eyes locked onto three slight forms standing in the entryway of the big hall.

This is simply too easy, Mikos thought in amusement, watching as her eyes lit up at the sight of her children. He had always known that emotions were a weakness. Love appeared to be the greatest weakness of all. She would do whatever he ask of her for as long as he held her children. Over time, she might even come to enjoy it. He rather hoped that it would take a very long time for that to occur. She was so much fun when she was unwilling.


“I want to see them. To talk to them. You promised me that!” she said, turning to look up at him with eyes that made him burn.

“Why of course you can see your children,” he replied with a slight smile, motioning her forward with a casual sweep of his arm. “As always, I am yours to command.”

Stiffly she walked toward the stairs, catching a glimpse of John’s brooding form lurking against the wall to her side. He seemed to drift along, staying even with her slow movements without trying to approach any closer. With a silent plea, she urged him to wait just a little bit longer. Oblivious to Mikos’ presence, she jerked away as his hand came to rest possessively on her bare shoulder. At her sudden movement, John seemed to surge toward her only to be halted by the cry of a familiar voice.

“Mom!” Sami called out, her voice rising above the din of the crowd as she stormed down the stairs toward the familiar figure of her mother.

With a start, John dropped his eyes and tried to quell the rising urge for action. Slipping back into the shadows that draped the marble walls of the ballroom, he smoothly returned the pistol to its resting place against the small of his back. His hands shook as he clasp them before him and he hissed out a long sigh of relief as he realized how close he had come to ruining his chance to get the children clear without the risk of violence. Silently he held his place as he watched Sami fling herself into her mother’s arms, two figures that could only be her siblings following close behind. As the children ran to their mother, he stood in the darkness and watched.

This made it worth it. All of the worry, all of the waiting, all of the fear. To see her children, to hold them tight against her, that was worth anything to her.

“Mom, we were so worried about you!” Carrie exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her mother’s shoulders.

Happy tears glistened in Marlena’s eyes as she struggled to breathe, Sami’s tight embrace making it difficult. “You were worried about me!” She chuckled. “Well, I was worried about you. Are you guys okay?” Disentangling herself from Sami’s death grip, she held her youngest daughter out at arms length and swept her eyes over her three children, searching for any sign of harm.

“They are just fine, Marlena,” Mikos’ low voice broke in. “Now, if you could stop making a spectacle of yourselves, there are people here who I would like you to meet. Lest you forget, the purpose of this party is to introduce the new Alamain bride to her subjects.”

“I am not leaving my children,” Marlena shot back, her eyes narrowing in anger.

With a nonchalant gesture, Mikos waved two guards forward. “If you are very good, perhaps you will get to see each other again before the children leave. But I promise you, if you make a scene, you will not see each other again for a very long time.”

His tone was even, but Marlena could sense the threat that lay behind his words. She bit back a sharp retort, but found herself unable to let her children be led away from her. Not yet, it was simply too soon.

“Perhaps I could entertain the children in your absence,” a deep voice cut in smoothly.

Turning in surprise, Marlena found herself confronted by the one person she would least expect to come to her rescue. Stefano Dimera, resplendent in a dark tuxedo, a lion’s mask complete with fur covering the upper portion of his face. Before she realized what he was doing, he had raised her hand to his lips and gently brushed a kiss against her skin.

Startled, she jerked away, noticing the twinkle in his eyes as she did so. John trusted him, she had to remind herself. If John could trust him, perhaps she could too. “Thank you, Stefano,” she replied cautiously, her stomach twisting in rebellion at the thought of putting her children in Dimera’s care.

“Then it is settled,” Mikos broke in impatiently. Latching a firm hand around her wrist, he virtually dragged her off into the crowd. The last Marlena saw of her children was a view of Stefano walking away from her, her children following close on his heels.

“May I have this dance?” asked the voice that she heard in her dreams.

Marlena swung away from the boring diplomat who had volunteered to keep her occupied while Mikos stepped away and looked up into the warm blue eyes of the man she loved. It was all she could do not to step into his arms and hold on with all her might. Instead, she merely gave a graceful nod and placed her hand on his proffered arm. With a half-bow he led her out into the middle of the dance floor and took her ever so gently into his embrace. For a long moment he simply stood still in the middle of the floor holding her body pressed against his own. God, it felt so good to finally have him with her. Tears glistening at the corners of her eyes, Marlena tilted her head up and whispered in his ear. “Honey? This is not how people waltz, you know,” she said softly, a laugh that was half-sob echoing in her voice.

Reluctantly he pulled back to hold her at arms length. So softly that she could barely feel it, his left hand skimmed across the dark bruise that was beginning to show against the pale skin of her shoulder, evidence of the strength in Alamain’s grip. It took an effort for him to draw his next breath as every muscle in his body seemed to tense. He would not let her leave his arms again. Not until she was safe. “I love you,” he rasped out, so softly she could barely hear. He dropped his head from her gaze as a single tear escaped to trail down his cheek. Even more softly, he breathed, “I’m sorry.”

Suddenly aware that they were beginning to draw notice, he wrapped his hand around her slender waist and led her smoothly into the first steps of the waltz. Her eyes never left his face as they seemed to float across the floor, their bodies moving together without the need for conscious thought. He knew that she wouldn’t do what he asked even as he ground his plea. “Come with me,” he begged in a soft voice, trying to guide her in off the dance floor.

“John, I can’t,” she whispered back, digging in her heels and refusing to be led. “The children are here. He will hurt them if I try to leave. You know that!”

No longer able to meet her eyes, he ducked his head and said tightly, “Dimera will bring them. We have to meet in the corner of the sitting alcove. We’ll all go out together, Marlena.”

“John, he watches me too closely. He will notice the second I move from this room. I will never leave here unnoticed. Take the children out of here and then come back for me with your men,” she replied, plastering a fake smile on her face as she looked over to nod a greeting at a passing couple.

“There are no men, Marlena. Bo’s stuck. We have one chance at this because Alamain is going to notice as soon as anybody leaves. We go together because there won’t be a second chance,” he said, pulling her closer to him. Knowing it would make it harder for her to refuse him.

For just a second, she allowed herself to rest against the warmth of his chest, listening to the strong steady beat of his heart. Closing her eyes, she shook her head no. “The children have to be safe,” she whispered.

At her words, she could feel his grip tighten around her and for a moment she feared he would simply lift her up and carry her bodily from the room. Then she went pale, her eyes catching a glimpse of Mikos’ worried face eagerly scanning the crowd, no doubt in search of her. “John, you have to go,” she said, panic showing in her voice. “Mikos is coming, you have to go now!”

“Not without you,” was the determined response. Beneath the soft silk of his shirt her fingers felt the muscles bunch tightly in anticipation of coming violence. She watched as his face hardened and his eyes went dark.

“John, please!” she pleaded, suddenly recognizing that he had every intention of fighting this battle out here and now. Alone against a dozen guns, he would stand no chance at all. Reaching out, she placed her hands gently on the sides of his face, holding him until he was forced to meet her eyes. He would do anything for her. She had always known that. Now she would make him prove it.

Her voice calm and low, she held his gaze and said softly, “For me, John. I want my children safe more than I want anything else. Do this for me.” He froze in place, staring into her eyes as if to burn the look of her into his mind. Mikos’ heavy bulk began pacing toward them, irritation evident on his face. Still John held his ground, unwilling to relinquish the feel of her fingers against the skin of his face. Finally, in one gentle movement he took her hands in his. Bending his head, he brushed a single kiss against each of her palms and then walked swiftly past her to lose himself among the still twirling dancers.

She didn’t turn to watch him leave her. She couldn’t. Instead, she stood motionless as Mikos plowed his way through the crowd to her side.

“Who was that?” Mikos snapped, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

She looked up at him, her face a calm mask. He could not hurt her. Not anymore. John would take the children out. He would see them home. The possibility that he would fail her in this did not exist. She merely had to stall Mikos long enough to see her family safe. After that, nothing he could do would touch her.

Turning from Mikos, she began to make her way back to the big table at the front of the ballroom. She was not surprised when he reached to link her arm in his own. “I asked you a question,” he hissed, anger showing in his voice.

“Some dreary acquaintance of that boring diplomat you left in charge of me,” she answered coldly, knowing how he hated it when she failed to be properly fearful in his presence. Knowing how it would keep his attention focused on her. His fingers tightened painfully around her wrist and she suppressed a smile at how easily manipulated he was proving to be.

John stood pressed against the wall, watching as Dimera casually led the children around the edges of the ballroom, chatting amiably with Eric about God new what. Sami and Carrie trailed in their wake, and as John watched, Carrie reached out to take her younger sister’s hand in her own. Without any attempt to disguise their purpose, two of Alamain’s guards walked beside them. Though dressed for the ball, the way their eyes roved over the crowded room left no doubt that their business was the protection of the children. Their protection or their imprisonment, it was one and the same to the guards.

John’s eyes darted to the front of the ballroom, and he could not suppress the flash of heated anger he felt as he watched Marlena in deep conversation with Mikos. Damn, he needed Bo and his men here. He could not get them all out at one time by himself and Marlena would not leave while the children were still at risk. His teeth ground together as his jaw knotted in frustration, but he allowed her to have her way. She would keep Alamain occupied while he got the children free. Once that was done, he would return for her.

Focusing on what had to be done, he threaded his way through the room toward the spot where Stefano was herding the children. Massive marble pillars rose 30 feet into the air, separating the ballroom in half and marking the end of the dance floor. Large round tables dotted the other half of the room, providing a resting place for wearied dancers. French doors lined the outer wall, thick drapes cutting off the chill of the winter air, hunter green providing a spot of color against the backdrop of all of that white marble. Those doors were going to prove useful as more than a mere decorative touch.

John smiled grimly to himself, watching the older man work. The guards were bored out of their minds, watching as Stefano swept Sami up in a loose embrace, guiding her quickly through a complicate dance step in a demonstration that ended with them standing in a shadowed corner at the back of the alcove. While he admired Dimera’s technique, John felt distinctly uncomfortable with the vision of Dimera’s arms around Sami, and his step quickened involuntarily.

Though bored, Alamain’s men were not inept. At John’s almost hurried intrusion, the man on the right flank shifted to face him, a vaguely suspicious look crossing his face. John simply gave him a distracted nod and darted his head around as if seeking something he had yet to find. Hoping the man would assume he was looking for the restroom, John judged the distance between the two guards and muttered an interpretable curse. They were two damn far apart. They were too damn alert. The chandeliers that dotted the room provided more than enough light to make his movements plain to both the two guards and the half-dozen guests who lounged at the tables at the front of the alcove. There was no way in hell he was going to pull this off.

As if she could sense his distress from the front of the room, Marlena’s head turned to stare directly into the darkened recesses of the sitting room. With a sudden uncharacteristic stumble, she tripped awkwardly into the path of an oncoming waiter, barely keeping her feet as a tray of empty champagne glasses went flying.

From the front of the room came the sudden crash of glass and a high-pitched scream that could only come from Marlena, and every eye shifted to search for the sound of distress. Every eye but John’s. The scream still echoed in the air as his fingers wove into the hair of the nearest guard. With a half-step back he yanked the man over his hip and sent him plummeting to the floor. An instance before the body hit John twisted forward, the man’s head still held firmly in his grip. The only signal that the man was dead was the muffled pop of his neck as it broke into pieces and severed his spinal cord.

By the time the far guard turned around and saw enough to be surprised, John was already halfway to him. The man’s hand slapped at the leather of his holster just as the heavy body rammed into him, taking him soundlessly to the floor behind one of the round tables. With an efficient jerk, John pulled his blade from between the man’s ribs. A perfect hit, directly into the heart. The man had died instantly.

Crouching behind the table, John quickly stuffed the body beneath the floor length tablecloth and rose carefully to his feet. His children watched wide-eyed as he stepped forward and kicked the body of the other guard under the row of heavy curtains. Ignoring them, he turned to Stefano. “Take the children out through the balcony. You know where to go.”

“Where is Marlena?” Stefano shot back, not moving an inch.

The need for haste grew with every wasted second and John stepped forward to wrap his big hand around Stefano’s forearm. “Please! We will be right behind you. Hurry!” he ground out, his hand tightening to a painful grip.

Resolve flashed across Stefano’s face, and he returned the fierce grip with one of his own. Slapping a hand against John’s shoulder, he leaned forward and whispered, “You better be,” in the man’s ear. Abruptly he pushed John away and snapped a nod at the children. Confused, they crowded after him wondering why John did not follow.

Sami trailed slowly at the rear of the procession, hesitating before John’s still form as if suddenly afraid to let him leave her. “Daddy?”

With a small smile that was meant to be reassuring, he gingerly reached his hand out and gently brushed her cheek. Unable to watch her walk away from him, he abruptly turned and went to get Marlena.

Mikos watched as Marlena graciously apologized for creating a scene, diffusing the situation with a graceful smile and a light chuckle. That easy grace was in stark contrast to the stumble that had caused the waiter to drop his tray, and with animal cunning he suddenly sensed that something was wrong. He was at her side in an instance, grabbing her arm in an unbreakable grip as his eyes skimmed over the crowded room. Suspicion shot through his mind and he viciously twisted her slender wrist. “Where are the children?!” he almost yelled. His lips drew back in a snarl and he took pleasure in the tears of pain that sprang to her eyes. Oblivious to the stunned guests who were becoming aware of the scene being played out at the front of the room, he twisted harder and gave a rough shake that caused her whole body to shudder. Unable to help it, she groaned loudly, half expecting the bones to break under his brutal hold.

John could see the pain in her eyes even from the far side of the room. His shoulders seemed to broaden as the hate pumped through his system, the rage narrowing his vision to a red-hazed focus on the couple at the front of the room. He moved, his long strides carrying him quickly across the expansive room as his hands locked around the smooth grips of a matching pair of 9 millimeter Glocks. He could hear nothing but the sound of his own ragged breathing and the cold snick of the safety clicking off on the gun in his right hand. Then, as if from a distance, he heard her moan out, and he dropped all attempts at pretense as he bulled his way through the crowd, ramming aside anyone in his way.

Mikos smiled down into her face, almost enjoying her little attempt at defiance. Such an attitude most definitely deserved punishment. The children would be found and then he would teach her the price of disobedience. But there was something in her eyes. Something other than the pain and fear. Something more than mere defiance. Behind it all, somewhere deep inside, there was triumph. It screamed a warning to him, and his head shot up to again scan the crowded room, noticing for the first time the stunned stares of the hoards of guests. And then noticing something else. Panic ripped through him as he saw his father’s eyes stalking toward him in the form of a demon straight out of Hell. His face went pale and he pulled Marlena’s body to him as if she could ward off the vision that assailed him. Raising a trembling hand, he pointed and screamed. “Stop him! Bring him down! Dimitri, stop him now!”

And John burns.

Hands come up, pistols at the ready. He brushes aside yet another costumed body, sending the man crashing to the floor to lie stunned. The damned cattle are in his way. Two quick shots into the air, the sharp reports echoing back off of hard marble walls, and they are stampeding away in panicked flight.

A uniformed figure looms close and his right hand swings across his body to nestle in the folds of the man’s shirt. Three pulls of the trigger and blood mists the air, bullets tearing free of skin to leave gaping exit wounds in their wake. His hand swings clear of the falling form, his steps never faltering.

The left hand joins the right, the symphony of destruction building in volume as the back of a man’s head disintegrates. And he is running. Her face the only thing he sees. The only thing that matters. A shotgun booms its thunder, a body slams across his path. An old woman, eyes wide with shock and fear at the unexpectedness of her death. He rolls, eyes searching for the gun through the gaps in the running legs of his human shields. His guns bark out in concert, ripping through the guard at the top of the stairs. At least the old woman will have company on her journey.

And he moves, bent low. The crackle of bullets in the air, the sting of gunpowder in his eyes. Heat as a splinter of stone slices across the back of his calf. The crowd is thinning but he can’t see her. He needs to see her. He stands tall and fires, black uniforms now crowding the front of the room. Black uniforms aiming. Firing. Falling. The last vestiges of the human wall drop before the onslaught and he hits the floor hard as the bullets streak the air above him. Cursing as he fumbles for a clip, his only cover the sprawling bodies. Alamain must go down. Failure is not an option.

An eye in the storm as the gunfire slackens and he rises for one last charge, the clips sliding home in a hiss of metal on metal so sweet he can taste it. All that is left for him to do is to stand. To stand and to fire until Alamain is his to kill. His focus is so intense he never senses the heavy body until it slams into him from behind.

“I want him alive!” Mikos’ screaming voice rings out from behind the protection of a dozen armed men.

The sounds echoed in her mind, the vision danced before her eyes. Oh God, please not this. Please not John. There were too many guards. Too many guns. Not even John could stand against that many alone. Not alone. With a strength born of her sudden fury, Marlena wrenched free of the iron grip that held her against Mikos’ broad chest. Scrambling away, she lurched to her feet, her long legs tangling in the layers of the voluminous ball gown. She rose just in time to see Dimitri’s body ram into John from behind, snapping his head back with the force of the impact and taking him to the floor so hard that she could hear the thud of the body from where she stood.

The sound spurred her to movement, and she lunged at the backs of the guards before her, praying that she could buy John a sudden reprieve from this destruction she had sensed all along. Her attempt was halted before it began, Mikos’ heavy hand locking in her hair and jerking her back to again stand before him. Furious, she turned and went for his eyes, only to be stopped as he easily caught her hand, twisting her arm up behind her back until she thought the force would dislocate it. For an instance he merely studied her coldly, his fearful look replaced by a glimmering insanity.

“Oh no, my lady. You stay with me. You will always stay with me,” he hissed with a leering smile. Behind her she heard a thick grunt of pain as a fist slammed into fragile flesh. She closed her eyes on the sound and tried to hold back the threat of tears. She refused to see him fall.

The ground came up to meet him and John tried to twist away, take the brunt of the blow with a shoulder and come up firing. The arms that wrapped around his waist were unforgiving and the best he could manage was to turn his head and avoid a face-first impact that would surely have knocked him out. As it was, he thought his back was broken and a white haze clouded his vision. A low groan escaped his lips and he felt the warm trickle of blood beneath his ear. Stunned, he didn’t notice when the heavy body shifted off of him. He was made brutally aware that his attacker had shifted as the pain streaked white hot through his shoulder, his arm suddenly pinned against the small of his back in what should have been an unbreakable joint-lock.

That was a mistake. The pain burned through the haze of unconsciousness that had threatened. His gun was nowhere to be found, but his left hand whipped back to lock unerringly on the groin of the man who crouched above him. His fingers twisted viciously and he was rewarded with a high-pitched scream and the sudden release of his arm. Rolling over he kicked out, the force shattering the moaning man’s nose and splattering them both with warm blood. He scrambled forward on his belly, reaching for the Glock that lay ten feet ahead of him, knowing as he did it that he couldn’t reach his gun before the uniforms did.

He almost proved himself wrong, his hand closing around the familiar grip just as a booted foot crashed down on his wrist. His fingers went numb but his left hand lashed out to sweep the man from his feet. As he fell, John drove himself to his feet to meet the mass of bodies that surged over him. Just beyond the sea of flesh, he could see her standing. Her eyes opening to lock onto his. Watching helplessly. Waiting for him to come. Arms looped around his neck, too many to shake off. Desperate for a gun, he jammed a thumb in an eye. Oblivious to the owner’s screeching, his fingers clawed at the man’s holster, the weapon almost within his grasp. Then strong arms wrapped around his legs, and the weight of the bodies took him down.

The only sounds that broke the silence were the moans of the wounded, the weeping of the survivors and the harsh rasp of the man who lay pinned to the floor. Still holding Marlena’s arm bent awkwardly behind her back, Mikos slowly approached the still struggling figure, the sound of his footsteps echoing ominously in the silence of the room. He gave an approving nod to Dimitri, who stood dabbing at the blood that still dripped from his broken nose, and relinquished Marlena into his care. For a moment, Mikos simply stood before the heaving body, enjoying the sensation of having his rival laying helpless at his feet. As if sensing the scrutiny, John’s head tilted painfully back and Mikos was caught in the accusing stare of his father’s eyes. Very slowly a smile spread across his face. His brother was alive, this was simply too sweet for words. A feeling of power such as he had never known swept over him, and Mikos ordered quietly, “Bring them both to the conference room. Inform the guests that an assassination attempt was just thwarted, and then get them out of here.” With one final glance at the blue eyes that still stared up at him, he turned and strode confidently from the body-strewn hall. 

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