He had been gone too long and Marlena’s fear grew as various scenarios ran through her head. None of the outcomes she imagined were good and she bit her lip as she again debated going up to the study and dragging him away. The creak of wood sounded from the staircase and her head whipped around, her relief overwhelming her as she watched him come toward her. Lost in thought, John appeared oblivious to his surroundings.

“I hope everything went all right?”

Startled, he looked up, a wide grin curving his lips. Caught in the rays of the sun that poured through the wall of glass behind her, Marlena glowed like a beacon in the night. He’d sell his soul to buy one more moment at her side.

Realizing that he hadn’t heard a word she had said, she chuckled and patted the cushion next to her. “Well? Come tell me what happened. I do believe the discussion involved me too.”

Sinking down on the far end of the couch, almost afraid to get too close to her, he offered-up a shy smile. Trying to sound nonchalant, he shrugged. “Nothing to it. I told you we would work it out. Stefano won’t be a problem for us.”

“Mm hm,” Marlena muttered, looking suspiciously over at him. “What did you have to do? Offer up our firstborn?”

“Of course not! I only offered to name it after him.”

As her eyes widened, he continued, his expression innocent. “In fact, I did promise I’d get right on the assignment. There are certain ‘technical details’ that need to be addressed before I can accomplish the mission.”

As he watched the flush creep up her neck, he could barely suppress the laugh of sheer joy that bubbled within. It was not the time for doubts or worries for the future. They were free to be together and it would be enough for now.

Her cheeks were pink, but her eyes flashed gold fire as she thought of the two of them discussing the name of a child yet to be. “You didn’t!” she exclaimed, sitting straighter.

Suddenly worried he had angered her, he tried to cover. “I’m sorry. I mean we were just kidding. I know you’re too...”

It was her turn to suppress a laugh and she fought to keep her amusement from showing in her eyes. Almost leaping across the cushions separating him, she straddled his legs. Taking advantage of his shock at the sudden contact, she grabbed his wrists and trapped his hands against the back of the sofa. Bending over so that they were almost nose-to-nose, she said in a deceptively mild tone, “Too what, John? Too old to have more babies?”





He struggled to breathe. The warm weight of her resting on his knees. The scent of her filling his mind. The glare of her eyes, inches from his own. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her forever. “No! Of course not! I meant, I meant you were too beautiful, too sensitive, too wonderful to ever deign touch a wretch like me,” he finished with a sly grin. His composure regained, he gave her a cocky look that dared her to call him a liar.

Still holding his arms against the couch, she sat back and studied his face. Very slowly, she allowed her expression to soften, her head to bend down. Her lips drawing ever closer to his own, she whispered, “I almost believe you...”

He was mesmerized by her nearness and failed to note the warning glimmer in her eyes. Suddenly, her right hand snaked to his ribs. Burrowing under his sweater, she attacked him with her fingers, just below his rib cage, and yelled, “Almost, but not quite!”





Despite her weight on his legs, he scrambled over the padded armrest in an attempt to escape those devilish hands. She had always been able to tickle him into submission, and though he tried to be careful of her, they ended up in an unruly pile on the floor. She rode him all the way down, ending up sitting on his stomach, torturing him unmercifully as he tried to squirm away.

“Oh God!” he yelled through tears of laughter, the giggles shaking the body she held wrapped around him only added to his torment. “I’m sorry! I swear, I’m sorry. We’ll have 10 more babies and name them all after you. Please, just stop. Have mercy!!”

She was not about to let him off so easily, but at the sound of a door opening, she stopped to look up. Sami and Eric stood at the French doors, staring down at them with wide eyes. Sami flashed a broad grin. “Um, we heard shouting. Is everything okay in here?”

Matching her daughter’s aplomb, Marlena gathered her feet under her and elegantly rose. Laying at her feet, John rolled to his side and gasped red-faced for air.

“Everything is fine, Sami. Thank you for being concerned,” Marlena replied, a smile in her eyes. Reaching down, she gave John a friendly pat on his butt and chuckled. “Just giving your father a sorely needed lesson in etiquette.” Beneath his already pink face, she could see the blush that accompanied her touch, and thought to herself that it served him right.

Sami nodded in mock seriousness. “Yes, he never has been very strong in the manner’s department, has he? I think it’s a guy thing,” she said, poking her brother with her elbow.





Going to her daughter, Marlena took her arm and nodded to her conspiratorially. “Well, hopefully a little discipline will whip him into shape.” As they moved out onto the patio, Marlena’s fading voice drifted behind her through the door. “You should hear what I did to him the time he...”

Eric swallowed hard and looked down at John, who was wiping the last of the tears from his eyes. “Dad, they really scare me when they get like that.”

Finally catching his breath, John flopped over to lay flat on his back. Catching Eric’s eye, he grinned. “They should scare you, son. They’re women.”

She leaned back in his arms, completely content. The day had passed in sheer unadulterated idleness, unmarred by a single sighting of Dimera. As the chill of the night deepened, she stretched her toes out to the remains of the bonfire and snuggled back into the warmth of John’s chest.

“Are you cold? Do you want to go in?” he whispered into her ear. The feel of his breath sent a shiver down her spine.

“Mm,” she groaned, arching her head back to rest in the crook of his neck. “I don’t want to move. Ever. I just want to sit here with you until the earth falls into the sea.”

He bent his head and nuzzled her ear. “My butt’s going to get tired if we sit here that long,” he complained, eliciting a chuckle from her.

“Okay, my gallant warrior. How about we stay here long enough for me to roast one perfect marshmallow?” Tilting her head, she gave him a kiss on the cheek and bent to retrieve her ‘roasting’ stick.

Behind her, she distinctly heard him mutter, “Can we opt for that earth falling into the sea thing? It’ll be faster.”

Cocking an eyebrow, she turned to face him. “Surely you are not insulting my culinary skills?”





“Uh, no. Of course not. I would never do such a thing. But perhaps marshmallows really aren’t your forte. You know, they’re just too ‘simplistic’ a fare for a chef such as yourself.”

She stared at him in amazement. He really wasn’t the man she knew. He had actually managed to keep a straight face through the entire bald-faced lie. Narrowing her eyes, she decided to back him into a corner.

Haughtily, she sniffed. “I will have you know, John, I am an excellent marshmallow cook. My abilities are legendary!”

“Marlena! Every single marshmallow you roasted caught on fire!”

“I like them that way.”

“Doc, your hotdog caught on fire too!” he cried, unable to stifle the laughter that now rang out full force.

“Pork should always be cooked well-done. It prevents bacteria,” she shot back, poking him with her stick to emphasize her point.

He fell back against the cool grass, chuckling. Giving-up the battle, he managed to rasp out, “Okay. You win. You are a brilliant chef with a penchant for roasting marshmallows.”

Seeing him stretched out before the fire, the flicker of the flames sending shadows dancing across his lean body, she lost all interest in the marshmallows.

Marlena shifted, resting her arm across his taut stomach. Propping her head in her hand, she looked down at him





“Do you know how much I love you?” she asked, trying to see his eyes through the shadows.

“So much it hurts?” he replied, his voice the barest whisper.

“Mm hm,” she said as she trailed her fingers down his jawline.

“Then, yea. I do know.” His eyes cracked opened and he stared up at her. Blue fire seared her, his eyes reflecting the glow of the stars, the heat of the flames.

She inched her way up his body, lacing her fingers through his thick hair, cradling his head in her hands. Chest to chest, she held herself above him on her elbows and allowed her lips to descend to catch his in a cool, dry kiss.

His eyes closed and he melted into her. When she finally drew back, he had to force himself not to follow her. As the beat of his heart began to slow, he looked up and found her eyes fastened on his own.

“I want you to promise that you will never leave me. I want you to swear it, on our love,” she said simply, once again allowing her fingers to skim the side of his face.

A sly smile crossed his lips. “I do believe this is sexual blackmail, Dr. Evans.”

Refusing to allow him to dodge the question, she brought her hands to the sides of his face. “Promise you will never leave. Promise me now.”

He sighed and rolled over, taking her with him. Catching her in his arms, he sat-up and cradled her to his chest. “I promise I will never hurt you. I swear it on my life.”

She shivered and wrapped her arms tightly around him. “That isn’t what I asked of you. It’s not the same thing.”

His chuckle was grim as he locked his arms around her. “No, most likely it won’t be. But I can promise this. If I leave, I will always come back to you. I will come back, or I’ll die trying.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she whispered.

This time, his short bark of laughter was genuine. “Doc, people have been wanting to kill me for years. I don’t die that easy. Really. It’s been tried.”

She sighed raggedly and managing a grin of her own. “I’m not certain that makes me feel any better. Haven’t you ever consoled a woman before?”

John rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Doc! You are the only woman I have ever cared about, so it’s not like I had a lot of practice. I mean, when we were together, I never did anything to upset you. It’s hard for me to learn a skill I never have to practice.”

“Never upset me?” Marlena snorted, her eyes widening. “Never upset me! Do you remember the time you had me sign those damn check-in sheets at the hospital? Do you remember the time you stayed out all night for Bo’s bachelor party and called me at three in the morning to sing ‘Isn’t she Lovely’ with a barroom full of drunken cops? Or what about the time you were out all night on a bust, and then didn’t even call to tell me you had been shot in the face? Upset me! No one has ever been able to ‘upset’ me to the extent you do!” Resisting the urge to throttle him, she simply sat and glared.

“Oh… Um, yea. I kind of forgot about that. And, hey! I did not get shot in the face. Those were just some wood splinters kicked up by the bullet,” he said defensively. Shifting slightly, he linked his hands together behind her and leaned back.

“A bullet that hit an inch away from your face, John. Fortunately, they were aiming at your hard head, so there probably wouldn’t have been any damage anyway. But believe me- it still upset me plenty!” she said, involuntarily relaxing back into the warmth of the hands that gripped her hips.

His hands crept down until they rested just below her belt and he quirked an eyebrow. “Okay, so maybe a couple of times you were mildly upset with me. I can’t quite remember what I did to console you,” he said innocently.

She simply looked at him. “Well, generally, we had sex,” she said in a conversational tone. “Wild, freaky, hanging from the chandelier monkey sex,” she continued slowly, the ghost of a smile showing in her eyes as she stared him down.





He swallowed, his blush lost in the darkness. “Oh, yea. I vaguely recall. Does that work?”

“Only if you do it right,” she replied, fighting back a smile.

“Mm. Did we do it right?” he asked, pulling himself forward with his arms so that they were almost face-to-face.

“Baby, did we ever,” she laughed, giving up the war.

Seeing her smile at him beneath the star light, he felt as if his heart would burst. Impulsively, he bent down and captured her lips. Allowed himself to be consumed with her. By her. By her taste, her feel, her scent.

The touch of her hand on his thigh startled him and he broke the contact, pulled himself back. Tilting his head to the heavens, he let loose a stifled moan. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” he growled as he swallowed great lung fulls of the cold air.

“Oh yes. Really. You should have.” With a satisfied smile, she tried to still her own rapid breathing. Reaching to his upraised face, she brushed back the lock of hair that always seemed to find its way to his eyes. “John, let’s go upstairs.”

A tremor run through his body and shook his head. Pulling himself back to the present, he looked down at her, eyes expressionless. “We should wait, Doc. Wait until this is all done, all over with.”

She crossed her arms, looked at him in exasperation. He was acting like she was a sixteen-year-old virgin. “John, I want you to take me upstairs. Right now. And if I hear one more complaint about making love to me, you are going to see just how ‘upset’ I can get!”

Her voice carried the promise of a wrath of biblical proportions and he wasted no more time. Rising easily to his feet, her body still held in his arms, he managed a quick “Yes ma’am,” as he carried her through the patio doors.





She was conscious of nothing but the pounding of his heart, the heat of his body through the soft flannel of his shirt. Her eyes fixated on a curl of dark hair and her fingers moved to his top button. Slipped it open. Slipped inside.

She was jolted from her exploration when she felt his steps falter. It was only then that she recognized the roar of the TV and noticed the bright eyes of her children, staring up at her as they lay propped about the great room.

“I thought you guys went to bed?” John growled in a husky voice.

Marlena felt the sound echo in his chest and realized that she still had her hand buried in his shirt. Flushing, she pulled it out and clasped both hands loosely in her lap. Looking back at her children, she tried to appear innocent as she lay curled in John’s arms.

“South Park’s on,” Carrie said from where she lay reclining across the arms of an overstuffed armchair.

“We made popcorn,” Eric chimed in, motioning absently to a big bowl as he again turned his attention to the screen.

Raising herself to a sitting position on the couch, Sami looked curiously over at them and smiled broadly. “So, Mom, did you hurt your ankle or something?”

Marlena returned a self-satisfied smile and relaxed against John’s warm body, wondering how he would explain their current state.

Instead, his gaze firmly fixed on the television screen, John asked, “Why is that guy farting on that other guy?”

“It’s Terrance and Phillip. It’s what they do,” Eric replied over his shoulder.





“Um, earth to Dad!” Sami said more loudly, gesturing toward Marlena. “Why are you carrying Mom?”

“Uh, she was cold,” John stammered, his face beginning to flush as he found himself the center of the kids’ attention. They simply continued to stare expectantly at him and he blundered on, feeling like a moron. “Oh, yea. She was sleepy, too. And, uh, I think she hurt her ankle...” He trailed off lamely, brought low by the blue-eyed gazes of his daughters.

“Okay,” Sami muttered, more to herself than to them. With a roll of her eyes, she shrugged. “Well, we’ll be down here for a while, if you want to take Mom upstairs...”

At her offer, John’s face went scarlet and Marlena realized that there was no way she was going to get him upstairs now.

“Oh, no! Here will be just fine,” he said, bending as if to set her down. Marlena locked her arms behind his neck and gave him a look of warning. “Or, better yet, why don’t we take the couch, Sami?”

With a small smile at their silliness, Sami flopped down beside her brother on the hemp rug and refocused her attention on the show.





Marlena popped him sharply on the back of his head and John looked down at her with a rueful grin. Moving to the couch that Sami had just vacated, he settled gingerly down and realized that Marlena had absolutely no intention of letting go of him. He shifted until he was lying on his back, head propped against the padded cushion. He turned to the TV in a vain attempt to ignore Marlena as she wiggled around on top of him getting comfortable. As she finally stilled, resting her head against his chest and peacefully closing her eyes, he gave a gentle sigh of relief.

Listening to the beat of his heart, the sound of her children’s laughter, she allowed herself to drift away. As she carried him with her into her dreams, she vaguely heard the words that accompanied the movement of his chest. She let the words drift by, too ludicrous to process.

“What’s that guy doing to that chicken?”

-----

Marlena stretched out in the big bed, the early morning sun streaming through the open window. Her only regret the fact that she woke up alone, she rolled out of bed and followed the beckoning call of coffee.

“Mom! Good morning.” Carrie grinned as her mother strolled into the sitting room. “You look very relaxed today.”





Marlena chuckled and joined her daughter on the couch. Pouring a mug from the steaming pot on the coffee table, she snuggled comfortably back against the padded arm of the sofa. “I am relaxed. Very relaxed. In fact, I can’t quite remember how I made it back to my room last night!”

Carrie flashed a sly smile. “What? You don’t remember Dad carrying you up the stairs around midnight? Sami and Eric were taking bets as to whether he would make it all the way up here without having to take a break!”

“Well don’t keep me in suspense. Who won?”

“Actually, nobody. We all figured he would make it, he looked very determined.. But I was wrong about one thing. I would have bet every cent I own that he would have stayed the night. Instead, he was very conspicuous when he left. When did he become so shy, Mom?”

Rolling her eyes, Marlena sighed loudly. “I know what you mean. Every time he is around me, it’s like a first date all over again! It was kind of sweet the first time, but it is getting old fast! I think it is one habit I will have to break him of.”

Thinking back to the many times she had walked into a room, only to find her mom and dad making out like high-schoolers, Carrie nodded agreeably. Raising her mug, she toasted her mother. “If anyone can do it...”

John stared out over the porch railing and drew in a deep breath of the crisp morning air. Realizing he was grinning like an idiot, he was still unable to wipe the smile from his face. He had forgotten what it was like to actually feel good. For long months, he had been lucky to wake up and not feel the anger that seemed to form the core of his existence. The days he had managed not to feel anything were the days he had counted as good. God, he had forgotten what ‘good’ really felt like.

“You look pleased with yourself this morning,” a deep voice cut in, snapping him from his reverie. Startled, John turned to find Stefano seating himself at the table.

“I wondered if you would come down today,” John replied amicably.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Not wanting to get into it with Stefano, John simply ignored him. Picking up his coffee cup, he washed down the last of his breakfast.

“So? How did it go yesterday? I suppose Marlena was delighted to have her whole little family back?”

“Stefano, you really don’t want to hear about it and I really don’t want to discuss her with you. Why don’t you just let the matter drop? Marlena isn’t any of your business anymore. I thought we had established that.”

“I believe that we established the fact that I was not willing to shoot you in order to have her, John. That does not mean I am out of her life.” Seeing the sudden flare of anger in John’s eyes, Stefano gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “John, calm down. I do not mean to interfere in your lives. But she will always be on my mind. You know that. It isn’t as if I particularly enjoy the fact myself.”

John gave a rueful groan. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he managed a tight smile. “She does have a way of getting under a man’s skin, doesn’t she?”

Contemplating his coffee mug, Stefano merely nodded. “That she does. I hope you never take her for granted.”

“Never again.” Turning his gaze back to the mountains, John was surprised when Stefano again broke the silence.

“Did you tell her? Did you tell her you still intend to work with me?”

John had pushed the issue from his mind, not wanting to face what he suspected would be an ugly scene. Leave it to Dimera to bring the issue up. As he turned to face the man, his answer was cut short by the sight of her standing alone in the doorway. Her face was pale, her eyes wide. Damn!

“John?” she called softly. Waiting for him to deny it. Waiting for him to swear to her Dimera was gone from their lives for good. For a fleeting second, even hoping for a flash of the violence she knew lurked within him. Instead, he looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

In the uncomfortable silence, Dimera rose from his chair. Surprised that he found no satisfaction in the tension between the two, he nodded politely to Marlena and made his way into the house.

Left alone with her, John rubbed at the bridge of his nose and sought the words that would make her understand. “Marlena, I’m sorry. I should have told you yesterday. I just… Stefano was not the first thing on my mind,” he finished with a rueful smile.

Her gaze softening, she sat down next to him. “Was this the deal you made? That you would work for him and he would let us be together? John, that’s the devil’s bargain.”

He smothered an ugly chuckle. She still didn’t understand him. Wishing he could live with the lie, he instead told her the truth. “Doc, Stefano didn’t make me do anything. I asked him, not the other way around. I can leave the organization any time I want.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why? You know how much I hate that man. You know everything he has done to the family. Everything he has done to you! Why do you want to stay with him?”

“Marlena, have you thought about what will happen when we go home? I mean, really thought about it? They still think I killed Roman. I’m sure the authorities have a pretty good idea I killed Jameson, even if they won’t be able to prove it. You better believe they’re going to try and lock me up. I have more money than we will ever be able to spend, but I have more enemies than money. I need someone I can trust to back me up. I need to know you are protected, even if I can’t always be there with you. I need Stefano, Marlena. I trust him.”

“Well, I don’t,” she snapped. Rising stiffly, she stalked to the end of the porch. Leaning against the railing, she stared into the fields, seeing nothing and feeling only a bone-deep chill.

He’d known he’d end up hurting her. Had known he was not the man she still pretended him to be. He just hadn’t realized it would happen this quickly. He dropped his head back and stared into the blue of morning sky. “Damn...” he whispered, a quiet protest to the laughing Gods.

“I shot him! Do you remember that? Do you know what it took for me to try and kill another human being? Do you know the fear that drove me to that?”

He was surprised she was still talking to him, and his voice was soft as he answered her. “I wasn’t around when it happened… But, yea. I know. I know all about it. And I still can’t imagine how he must have hurt you to push you to that extreme.”

She turned on him, the anger shining in her eyes. “Then how can you do this? How can you let him be a part of our lives?”

“Because I am afraid, Doc! Don’t you get that? I have failed too many times. I’ve failed too many people. I won’t risk failing again. Not when it can cost me you.”

“John, Dimera is the danger! He’s the one you should be afraid of! I can’t have him in my life,” she said, shaking her head, biting her lip to keep the tears at bay.

He went to her, wrapped his arms around her as silent sobs shook her body. Finally, he felt the tension begin to ease. Ducking his head, he whispered in her ear. “He won’t be in your life. I promise. I will keep him away from you, from the children. I won’t accept any assignments. I promise you this, Marlena. But he is a part of my life and I intend to use the organization to protect you. Think of it as the least he owes you.”

“I don’t trust him, John. I never will,” she murmured.

He tilted her face up, traced the delicate line of her cheek with one finger. “You don’t have to trust him, Marlena. The question is, do you trust me?”

She hesitated, and for a moment he feared she wouldn’t answer. Then a smile curved her lips and all was right with his world.

“I will always trust you, John. Always.” As the relief washed over the blue of his eyes, she granted him a kiss to seal her promise.

John tapped on the office door and found Stefano immersed in paperwork. Startled, Dimera shot him a quizzical look. “I wasn’t expecting to see you up here.”

With a shrug, John moved to his familiar perch against the back of the sofa. “We did have a meeting scheduled for this morning.”

“And should I assume you have worked everything out with Marlena? Or are you here to tell me you are taking the family and returning to Salem?”

“Don’t be dense,” John answered shortly. “And what I have worked out with Marlena is none of your business.”

“You can leave if you are going to be insulting,” Dimera said, turning his attention back to the files on his desk.

For a moment, John considered it. Considered taking the family and leaving now. They could go back to Salem, let the chips fall where they may. As his thoughts drifted through the possibilities, so did the image, the frozen picture of Katherine, depicted in white and red. “I’m sorry,” he grated, running a rough hand over his face. “It’s just, she doesn’t want you in our lives. It isn’t easy for me to deny her.”

Looking up from his desk, Stefano’s expression softened. “No, I would expect not.”

“So, why did you need to see me? What’s up?”

Dimera leaned back in the big chair and smiled grimly. “It’s time to make our move John. Our men have completed mapping out the Brotherhood. We can take them out whenever you’re ready. I’m going to send you to D.C. tomorrow to coordinate the main attack.”

John absently checked the clip for the third time, trying to find something to do to fight the rising tension, trying to find some reason to stay in the ordinance room and avoid having to face her. With a frustrated sigh, he slammed the clip home. His nerves stretched thin, he spun around, gun in hand, as he sensed another presence.

Startled, Marlena froze in the doorway. Dressed in dark fatigues, John’s face was a cold mask and she could almost believe he would pull the trigger on the submachine gun he held trained on her. He grimaced, the barrel of the gun dropping to the floor, and he turned away from her.

“Didn’t hear you,” he muttered as he began to once again strip down the weapon in his hands.





“I guess not,” she answered cautiously, as he continued to ignore her. “Where were you? You disappeared after breakfast and never came down for lunch.”

“Something came up. A mission. Stefano wants me to go out tomorrow.”

“You’re leaving?”

He shrugged, and it felt like he was already gone. So cold, so distant. She’d never seen him like this, not since the island. Not since she’d watched him shoot a man down and never blink an eye.

“Is this how you always are before you go out to kill someone?”

Startled, he looked up, an amused grin tugging at his lips. “This is how I always am when you aren’t with me.”

“I’m here now,” she replied, as she moved across the room to him. Putting her hand atop his, she pulled him away from the gun that now lay in pieces on the rough workbench.





“You shouldn’t be,” he said softly. “Your presence is… distracting.”

“Distracting enough that you won’t go out tomorrow?”

Thinking to himself that she was so ‘distracting’ he was liable to walk into a bullet and never even notice, he instead said, “If you put your mind to it, I’m fairly certain you could make me forget to breathe.”

As he leaned back against the edge of the table, she smiled up at him. His face again familiar, the father of her children stood before her. She drifted closer, brushed against him. John stood frozen, his hands gripping the edge of the table, as she stretched upward to capture his lips with her own.

She touched him and he broke. This was what he had feared. This intimacy that would bind them together, that would make them one. She was his weakness and he would be her death. He jerked his head back. Opened his eyes. Breathed.

“Doc, no,” he grated.

She didn’t back away, just watched him with patient eyes. “Do you love me?”

“Doc...”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes, I love you. I will always love you,” he whispered, looking away.

She touched his face, forced him to meet her gaze. “Do you remember what you told me? You said you would not make love to me because it couldn’t be only one time. If we made love, you would have to come back. John, I want to know you will come back to me. That you will come back tomorrow and every day afterwards. I want you to make love to me, John.”

He was caught in the gold of her eyes. Trapped in amber, he could fight no longer. He lowered himself to her lips and felt a tear roll down his face. When she kissed him back, he knew he was lost.

She parted her lips and let him enter. Sucked gently in an old familiar dance, only to falter as he found a new rhythm. A demanding rhythm. He wrapped thick fingers in her hair and she felt the press of his body, his heat and his hardness. When he finally broke from her, she gasped for air. Pulling herself to his chest, she tried to still her ragged breathing. Above her, she heard him give a low groan of pure pleasure.

Slowly, she became aware of the sound of his voice, a throaty whisper of a sound. “Not here, Doc. Please...”

She shivered slightly as she felt his body move. “Why not?”

His chest shook as he released a small chuckle. Gently, he grasp her arms and eased her back. He waited as her eyes opened, as they focused.





“Marlena, I don’t want to cheapen this. To cheapen you.”

“Being with you will never lessen me, John. Besides, how much do you really think I’m worth on the open market?” she teased, running a finger lightly along the side of his face.

His eyes blazed and he caught her hand, brushed a kiss against her palm. “You are worth everything, Doc. My blood, my life, my soul. I would give everything I am, everything I will ever be, for you. It still wouldn’t match your price.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “John, you’re here. That makes this right.”

“This place is beneath you, Marlena. Hell, I am beneath you!” he said, struggling to maintain his control, to pull away from her while he still could.

“Only if you are very, very good,” she replied slyly. With a quick step forward, she knocked him back across the work table, grabbing his hands as he tried to push her away.





He couldn’t help the smile that lit his face. As she leaned over him, bending him back across the table, he knew he couldn’t resist her. Her lips came down to claim him again… and the door to the armory burst open.

“Uh… Sir!” Bryce said, snapping to attention as he noticed he was not alone. Red-faced, he managed to sputter, “I’ll come back later, sir. I thought, I thought we had a briefing. My mistake.” Back-peddling frantically from the sight of his boss bent across a table, a beautiful blond pinning him down, he slammed blindly into the wall behind him.

John gave a cracked laugh and took the opportunity to slip from Marlena’s grasp. Rubbing a hand roughly through his hair, he tried to collect himself. “No. Stay. We were done here anyway...” As his voice trailed off, he could not help but dart a glance back at Marlena. At the look on her face, he decided he was safer if he just kept staring at Bryce.

“Really, Sir! It’s alright,” Bryce was still stammering, as John breezed out the door. Grabbing a fistful of shirt, he dragged the young man behind him, heading for higher ground.

It was silent around the big dining table. An uncomfortable tension filled the room, cutting off the chatter that usually accompanied a meal. Stefano leaned back in his seat at the head of the table. Poking irritably at a piece of lamb, he thought to himself that you could actually feel the waves of fear. Grimacing at his own weakness, he considered pulling John off the mission.

“Mom says you’re going out tomorrow? That you have an assignment?” Carrie asked hesitantly. The kids all looked to their father, sitting quietly opposite Dimera.

John nodded. “I’m supervising a mission. The last one before you guys can go home. It’s no big deal. I probably won’t even see the field,” he said with a grin meant to be reassuring.

“You are coming home with us. Right, dad?” Sami asked, her face troubled.

“I promised you I would. When this mission is finished, we can all go home,” he replied, glancing at Marlena, who had avoided looking at him the entire evening.

“You want to play cards or something later?” Eric asked, feeling the undercurrent of emotion between his parents.

“Uh, I can’t, Eric,” John muttered. “I already have something I have to do.”

From the corner of his eye, John could see the irritation on Marlena’s face. When the meal finally wound down and they rose to leave, he called softly to her. “Marlena? Doc, can I talk to you?”

“What is it? I thought you had to prepare for the mission?” she asked, still avoiding his eyes.

He shrugged, moving toward her, stopping only once she was close enough to touch. “Bryce can handle the briefing. I thought there were more important things...” With an irritated sigh, he searched for the right words. Nervously, he shifted on the balls of his feet. “Marlena, I know how you love surprises...”

-----

“You could put me down, you know? I am perfectly capable of walking on my own two feet,” Marlena protested feebly.

“I prefer to have you in my arms,” John replied.

“Can I at least open my eyes?!”

The warmth of her breath was a sharp contrast to the icy air and it sent a shiver down his spine that threatened to drop him to his knees. “Don’t you dare,” he managed to croak as he fumbled with the lock to the bunkhouse door.

Marlena felt a blast of warm air and heard the crackling of a fire. The door slammed closed against the chill of the night and she lay back in his arms, wondering where he had carried her off to.





“Well? What do you think?” he asked, his voice echoing oddly from the walls.

She opened her eyes and found herself staring into the dark recesses of a high-pitched ceiling. As her eyes drifted down, drawn to the glow of a fire that raged at them from the far side of the room, she thought for a moment they were in a cave. A cottage, she realized. They were in a stone cottage.

Hundreds of candles covered the room, driving back the shadows in a sparkling shower of light. Between the islands of light, she glimpsed flowers. Vases and bowls filled with wildflowers, their colors flashing out in response to the dancing lights. The clean scent of flowers and flame engulfed her and she let out a laugh of pure joy. “What are you up to?!”

John bent his head, nuzzled the side of her neck. “Never doubt that I love you, Marlena. Never.”

Her breath caught in her throat and she raised a hand to wipe away the tears she saw in his eyes. “In my heart, I never doubted you. I promise that I never will,” she whispered.

His eyes softened, reflecting the glow of the candles, and he whirled in place, Marlena in his arms. Laughing aloud, he gestured with a nod to the room around them. “You like?”





“I like,” she answered, ignoring the room, looking only into his eyes.

With an embarrassed grin, he brushed a soft kiss against her lips. His eyes never left hers as he walked slowly toward the roaring fire. Moving easily, John dropped to his knees and Marlena found herself sinking into the smooth caress of satin sheets. The feather mattress beneath her was warm from the heat of the fire and the velvet of rose petals brushed against her cheek. “How on earth did you do all this?” she asked in amazement.

“Well, Jensen did help out,” he admitted.

“Ah, I should have known. Maybe I should start dating Jensen,” she said in a contemplative tone as she reached up to cup the side of his face.

Suppressing a smile, he eased forward and propped himself above her. “Gee. I always liked Jensen. Shame I’ll have to kill him.”

Her lips quirked in a grin as she ran her fingers down the line of his neck. “Well, maybe Jensen wouldn’t be so great after all. I mean, he really isn’t as cute as you are.”

John’s face flushed and he swallowed convulsively as she continued in an almost clinical tone. “You have much bigger biceps than he does,” she said, reaching to wrap her hand around the hard muscle of his right arm. “Yep, your biceps are much nicer. And your chest....”

Her eyes glued on his, she let her hand drift over to run across the broad width of his chest, her nails scrapping against the skin beneath the soft flannel shirt. “Oh yes, your chest is much nicer than Jensen’s,” she said almost dreamily. “And your butt… What can I say about your butt?” The laughter sparkling behind her eyes, she reached down and trailed tiny circles against the tight denim of his jeans.

His body leaped spasmodically at her touch and he found his teeth starting to grind. “Doc, if you want to kill me, won’t you please just use a gun,” he groaned out from between clenched teeth.





She gave a throaty chuckle and allowed her body to relax back against the inviting sheets. Staring up at him, she tried to capture this moment for eternity, let the image of him sear itself into her soul. With a start, she felt his still cold hands running lightly along the open V of her silk shirt. Lost in his eyes, her body began to shiver as he slowly unbuttoned her blouse.

The smooth material slid across her skin in a whisper as John delicately revealed the pale marble of her flesh. The only sound was the crackle of the fire, and he looked down on her with hooded eyes as he reached for the front snap on her bra. She lay motionless, watching him watching her. As she revealed herself to him, he sank back on his knees and turned his head to the heavens. He had never been meant for something as perfect as this.

She was captured by the heat of him. Lost in the play of light across his face, she watched mesmerized as the muscles in his neck corded in tempo with his suddenly ragged breathing. “Thank you...” he hissed into the blackness above. His head dropped and he sought her eyes. “Thank you.”

He looked down on her, lying beneath him. The glow of the fire washed over her, bathing her in the flames. Her body glistened, a pristine form, an angel fallen to earth. He ached with the need to be inside her and with a soft moan, he lowered himself gingerly down. Their bodies were a war of darkness and light and he watched as her skin puckered in response to the faint touch of his breath. He crept slowly up the length of her, drank in her essence, waited for her to make him stop. The only thing left between them was a whisper of space, a chasm of fear. Looking down into the molten gold of her eyes, he finally found the peace he sought. “I will love you beyond death.”

His need was beyond any she had ever glimpsed, any she had ever imagined. In long years of helping damaged souls, she had never seen anyone so broken. She would pay any price to stop his pain. She touched his cheek, allowed her fingers to slide over the clean planes of his face. Knotting her hand in his thick hair, she drew him to her. As his lips met hers in a hesitant kiss, she opened her mouth and claimed him as her own.

He could not breathe and he did not care. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the sensation. The feel of her lips against his, the taste of her mouth, the scent of her flesh. Finally, she pulled back to lie gasping on the sheets. “I will love you forever,” she answered him, her voice raw. Gently, she touched his face, wiped away the trail of tears that glittered against the dark skin. The smile he gave her said more than words ever could.





He bent down, tasted her lips, feathered kisses down her throat. The throb of her pulse echoed through her body and he sensed her life’s blood surging against the fragile skin of her neck. Moving ever downward, he grazed her nipple with his teeth, felt her hands grasp his head as she bucked beneath him. He tightened his control, fought the impulse to grind against her. His tongue flicked out and she rewarded him with a muffled moan of pleasure. The tiny bud hardened beneath his touch, beads of sweat making her skin slick. As his lips moved to firm skin of her stomach, his hands reached up to finish the job his mouth had started. He sucked gently as his rough hands caressed the flawless skin of her breasts. His tongue swirled lazy circles around the dimple of her belly button, his thumbs dancing across her now hard nipples. As he felt her begin to peak, he allowed his hands to slide away and he skimmed his fingers down her sides, barely touching the curve of her waist. Turning his head, he rested for a moment against the silken hollow of her stomach as his hands stroked the flair of her hips. He sensed her sigh, heard the frustrated moan in the back of her throat, and turned his attention to the tight jeans that impeded his exploration of her body.

She stretched her arms high above her head, felt the delicious tension that curled in her belly, burned in her groin. She ached for him, for his touch, for the feel of him inside of her making them one. The heat of the fire licked her flesh, fought with the chill of the night air that prickled her damp skin. Above it all was the pleasure/pain of his touch as it burnt through her flesh and splintered her bones.

She barely noticed when her groan of desire echoed from the rafters and she lifted her hips to let him pull her jeans down the length of her long legs. She was brought back to the moment by the touch of his hands, gliding up the outside of her bare legs, teasing across her hips, cupping themselves beneath her and running back down her inner thigh.

She had been with him a thousand times before. A thousand lifetimes they had completed each other and she would be with him for a thousand lifetimes more. Yet this time was their first, and he worshiped her with his body, his touch a silent prayer. His own needs were forgotten, a distant throb of flesh that paled into insignificance against the pleasure he wanted to bring her. He felt her twitch beneath his smooth caress, knew that he could make her wait no longer. He trailed his hands up the inside of her legs, teasing the soft skin where her legs joined the flaring hips. He cupped his hands beneath her and took her weight. Lifting her slightly, his heavy breathing ruffled the white-gold of her curls. As he moved to taste her, he heard her moan out.

“John… No. Please… don’t.”

“John, please don’t,” she sobbed, and felt him freeze in place.

“I’m sorry,” his whispered. “I shouldn’t have...”

His hurt was a palpable force. He doubted. He still doubted how she needed him. She hated that he doubted. Weaving her fingers through his dark hair, she pulled him to her and told him what she wanted.

“I want you inside of me, John. The first time… I want to feel you inside of me. I want to see your eyes and taste your mouth and feel your release,” she demanded, her voice husky, her words almost incoherent.

He stared down into blazing eyes, shocked by the passion that flared up at him. His self-control in tatters, he drew a deep breath and moved to give her what she asked.





He rose to his feet, towering over her waiting body. His eyes never left hers, yet he was aware of every inch of her. Too perfect- more perfect than the day he had first met her. Without thought, he ran his hands down his shirt, the buttons popping loose. As he shrugged out of his shirt, he was already moving to toss his jeans into the far corner of the room. He paused as he stood before her and realized that this was the image he would see as he drew his dying breath. A Goddess in gold and white, he would never be worthy of her.

He was a statue in bronze. Knotted muscles and flat planes, he was rock hard. The scars that marked his flesh were his only tie to the realm of the human. She smiled with the knowledge that he was hers. She would own him and he would possess her, an endless circle that would exist beyond time.





He eased gently down, afraid he would crush her with his weight. Holding himself off of her with his arms, he felt one slender hand pull against his back, felt a spasm as the other hand wrapped around him. For a tiny eternity, the world held still. With infinite slowness, he entered her. At the first touch, she bucked beneath him and he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He buried himself inside her warmth, felt the instance of her release, the grip of her muscles contracting around him. It was then he thought his back would break, and he reared his head and shouted his need to the gods.

She fell back against the sheets and he followed her down. As she gasped for air, he shuddered, his hardness still filling her. His eyes were cobalt fire and they swallowed her whole as he crushed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss. As his tongue skimmed the roof of her mouth, he pumped into her. The rhythm was smooth and slow and she instantly responded. Her nails dug into his sweat-slickened back as the soft bristles of his chest hair rubbed against her. Her fingers sought the hard muscles in his flank and she pulled him deeper, urged him faster. The fire grew hotter, the heat all-consuming. He screamed her name and thrust deeper. When his heavy warmth surged into her, her spine seemed to shatter.





They collapsed together before the embers of the dying fire. Bodies entwined in a frozen dance, it was no longer possible to tell where one began and the other ended. 

-----

He awoke at the first sounds of the birds, heralding in the false dawn. For a moment he lay still, lost in the feel of her bare skin pressed tight against his own. She was the reason for his existence. She was the only reason. His stomach clenched tightly with the sudden realization that he had to leave her. He had to leave now or he wouldn’t leave at all. Fighting the urge to burrow beneath the covers and once again seek the safety of her warmth, he instead drew a deep lungful of the sharp air and released her from his loose embrace.

It must have dropped below freezing outside and John was surprised his breath didn’t fog the air. With an effort, he narrowed his focus to the demands of the day and tried to ignore the ache of leaving her lying all alone. Silently slipping from the smooth sheets, he started the beginnings of a new fire on the still warm remains of the old. As the flames licked angrily at the dry wood, he gathered his scattered clothes. Within moments of waking, he was dressed and ready to meet his men. Only then did he allow himself to turn back to the peacefully sleeping figure of the woman he loved.

With his absence, she had curled herself into a tight ball. Laying on her side facing away from him, only the blond of her hair showed above the covers. Crouching next to her, he resisted the urge to run his fingers through the strands of hair that curled across the pillows. Resting his arms on his bent knees, John rubbed at his temples and imagined her fury when she woke to find him gone.

He should wake her. He should say goodbye. He should do a lot of things. But he was too afraid to face her now. He would deal with the anger when he returned. If he tried to say goodbye, he knew she would try to stop him. She’d plead for the lives of the men he sought, try to convince him it wasn’t necessary. She’d say it wasn’t right. If she asked him for anything right now, he doubted he’d have the strength to deny her. Dimera was right- she made him weak.

In his weakness, he’d allow them to live, make himself believe they didn’t have to die. His weakness would doom them all. The strong survived and the weak perished. He would not break that sacrament. He would not allow her to sacrifice herself on the altar of some benevolent God, some impotent God whose children found peace only in death. He’d make his own peace, the only way he knew how.





With a sigh, he watched her, remmebering the night before, remmebering how she looked as their flesh became one. He would bathe in an ocean of blood if that was what it took to keep her safe. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and strode to the door. He didn’t look back as he gently pulled it shut and walked away.

Marlena bolted upright, her heart pounding as if it wanted to escape from her chest. Faster than thought, she knew he was gone. As the heat of a roaring fire blazed at her back, she called his name anyway. The cry of her voice echoing back from the cold stone walls was the loneliest sound she had ever heard. Her eyes tearing, she hugged her knees to her body and listened as the faint whirl of rotor blades faded swiftly away in the still morning air.

She walked slowly through the tall grass, oblivious to the beauty that surrounded her. The early morning sun shone down from a cloudless sky, the frost-covered fields shimmering under its touch. She burrowed deeper into the thick barn jacket that John had left tossed over a chair and tried to escape a bone-deep chill that had nothing to do with the crisp fall air. To her eyes, all the world appeared a brittle facade that would shatter into ugly jagged pieces at a single careless touch.

Careless touches.... She hated the fact that he had left her. Hated that he had touched her on a level she had not thought possible and then stole away like a thief in the night carrying away with him some irreplaceable piece of her heart. She had known he would not leave her. Had known that he could not leave, not after they had found each other once again. And yet when she awoke, he had been gone.

Halfway up the porch steps, she realized that she was not alone. The reek of the cigar hung bitterly in the air and she looked up to find him studying her over the rim of a steaming cup of coffee.

“Marlena. You are up early on this beautiful morning. Would you care to join me for breakfast?” the deep voice called, a hint of amusement in its tone.

“I would rather starve,” she snapped, bristling at the sudden intrusion of the man’s noxious presence.

Stefano chuckled and shot her an evil smile, once again surprised by the feelings this woman stirred in him. She still had the fire that had drawn him to her those many years before. It was an odd sensation to have something he wanted so badly standing within his grasp yet not reach out and take it. He decided it was not a sensation he was in any hurry to experience again. Still, if he could not have her, he could at least toy with her a bit.

“Tut tut, Marlena. I do not think that John would appreciate it if I were to allow that to happen, my dear. After all, he did ask me to watch over you in his absence.”

“You lie! He doesn’t want you anywhere near me, Stefano. I don’t know what twisted hold it is that you have over him, but he would never trust you. Not around me and not around my children!” she replied, drawn into the argument despite the fact that she knew better.

“And his would, of course, be evidenced by the fact that he brought you to my compound? Or is it the fact that he has left you here, alone with me, on what, two occasions now? Marlena, really! You are much too perceptive a woman for such extreme self-delusion.”

The man infuriated her, all the more so when he was right. “You made him go, Stefano. It is some perverse game of yours where you twist things around until he thinks it is the only way he can protect his family. The only way he can protect me. I don’t know how you did it, but he would never have gone otherwise.”

“I did not ‘make’ John do anything, Marlena. I never have. Actually, I sincerely doubt that such a thing would be possible. John took this mission because he wanted to. He took it for the same reason he has taken every mission I have ever put before him. He enjoys it, Marlena. If you think that is going to change simply because you are sleeping with the man, you had best reconsider,” Stefano replied mildly.

She flushed at the comment and fought down her urge to slap him. “You talk to me of self-delusion! John was only with you because you beat him and you drugged him and you twisted his mind until you thought you had created the perfect little puppet! The hell you never ‘made’ him do anything! You ripped him from his home and his life and his children. You ‘made’ him into some broken thing that you thought would serve your will. And it kills you that despite all you have done, you still can’t control him. You still can’t destroy the love we share. When this is all said and done, he will go home to his family. And when he does, Stefano, your hold over him will finally be broken!” She fought back the tears of rage, refusing to let the man see her cry. Standing in the center of the porch, she glared down at Dimera with hate filled eyes, and it was joy, not fear, that she felt as his face twisted in anger at her words.

Slowly he rose to his feet, his features hardening into a bitter mask. It was all he could do to resist the desire to move toward her. To break her with his hands or to take her with his lips. Either option would have sufficed at that moment. Instead, he spat out words he knew would hurt. “I am not the one who created a lie, Marlena. You did that. You turned him into something he was not. You played house with him in some fairytale existence where you were the princess and he the gallant knight. And for a long while, it worked. It worked because the lie was so sweet that he wanted to believe that it was true. But it was still a lie, Marlena. The truth is, I am John’s family. I always have been and I always will be and nothing that he feels for you will ever change that.” Before she could respond with words that might drive him past the edge of reason, he turned stiffly around and strode to the door.

John fidgeted irritably and tried not to pace. The men surrounding him were keyed up enough without their commander stalking around the room like some madman. Christ! He needed this to be over, needed it to be done. His desire for her burned white-hot, the possibility that they could be together the driving force in his life. But as hard as he tried, he could not quite make himself believe that it would ever happen. There was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, a fear he had never felt before. Something very bad, something very ugly, was going to happen. He was going to fail her and it would cost him everything. A shiver ran through him, the bile rising. Closing his eyes tightly shut, he pushed away the fear and turned back to his men and made an effort to focus on the mission at hand.

The men gathered around him as he spread the big map of the D.C. area over the conference table. They had identified 21 men as known members of the Brotherhood, not counting Jameson., and Jameson no longer mattered.. Almost half of those men resided in D.C., the rest scattered throughout the world. The foreign hits had had teams assigned to them days ago. Those op.s were less complicated. They didn’t require the coordination of the concerted attack on the D.C. members. The teams assigned to them were given the freedom to pick their time and place so long as they didn’t move until after the first D.C. hit was scheduled.

John was coordinating the D.C. operation himself. Nine walking dead men, a two-man team assigned to each. One spotter and one sniper, with John and Bryce remaining to back-up any team that needed assistance. John hoped that no one would. There would be no room for error. With this type of concerted attack on multiple targets, deviations from the timetable would likely spell disaster. Tossing a stale donut down in disgust, John sipped at cold coffee and bent to go over team placements one last time.

Marlena walked into the sitting room, surprised by the familiar smell of coffee. For a moment, she almost made herself believe he was there. That by some miracle, he had returned to her. Was sitting waiting, that boyish smile on his face as he anticipated her reaction.

“Mom? I didn’t think you would be back this early. Where’s dad?” Carrie asked, her voice jarring Marlena from the fantasy she had tried to create.

“Mmm. Oh, John had to leave. He flew out early this morning,” she replied, her tone detached. Noting the mug of coffee Carrie held in her hand, she drifted over to the table and poured herself a cup more out of habit than desire.

“Are you okay, Marlena?” Carrie asked, noting the stiffness in Marlena’s posture. Her usual easy grace had been replaced by stilted movements that bespoke some deeper hurt.

“I’m fine Carrie. Just a little tired, I guess,” was the wooden reply.

Carrie bit back the kidding response that had immediately popped to mind. She knew when John had led Marlena away the night before, shooting the kids a wink and telling them not to wait up, that he had planned a special night with her. She had thought that the night would signal an end to the pain and longing she had glimpsed in both of her parents. This sense of hurt was not what she had expected in the aftermath.

Slipping to her feet, Carrie padded over to wrap her arms around her mother in a tight hug. “Marlena, what’s wrong? I thought that you and John… I thought that you would be together. I thought that was what you wanted. What happened?”

Against her will, Marlena felt the tears begin to fall and she gasped for breath in a shuddering sob. She did not want Carrie to see this. Her children did not deserve any more chaos in their lives. But the feelings were overwhelming and her defenses crumbled under the pounding of her grief. “He left, Carrie. When I woke up this morning, he was gone. He didn’t even say goodby, and he was gone,” she whispered brokenly.





“Mom, what happened last night? I thought… I thought everything was going to be okay between you two. What went wrong?” Carrie asked, unnerved by the way her mother stood shaking uncontrollably in her grip.

With a bitter laugh, Marlena broke from Carrie’s touch and angrily swiped the tears from her cheeks. “Nothing went wrong. Carrie, it was so, so perfect and so right and… I love him so much, Carrie. And then he left! He left to go on some stupid mission for that bastard Dimera!” Her mind drifting back to her confrontation with the old man, she slammed the coffee cup down on the table, the glass shattering with the force.

Startled, the two women looked down on the broken shards. With a weary sight, Marlena bent to clean up the jagged pieces, slicing her fingers in her haste.

“Mom, stop. Please. I’ll take care of this. Why don’t you go take a hot bath? Dad will be back. He’ll make this okay. I know he will.” Carrie said, putting her hand to Marlena’s shoulder.

“Honey, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to… I’m just, I’m very ttired,” she said, trying to keep the anger from her voice.

“Mom. Really. It’s okay. There’s nothing broken here that can’t be fixed. Okay?” Carrie asked, studying her mother with a worried look.

Forcing what she hoped was a smile to her face, Marlena turned to leave. So softly the words barely be heard, she whispered, “I hope you are right, Carrie. I really do.”

John slumped down in the hard seat. The beat-up old van had not been built for comfort and it had definitely seen better days. However looks could be decieving, and the tweaked out eight cylinder engine under the hood had been designed to get them where they were going in a hurry if the need arose. Sipping at yet another cup of too strong coffee, he wearily hoped that the need would not arise. He wanted this thing over and done with. A clean hit, wiping out the organization entirely. Ending the threat. Images of Marlena danced through his mind and with a short nod he signaled Bryce to move the van out. As they pulled carefully into the heavy D.C. traffic, John heard the crackle of static come over the radio as the first of his teams reported that they had reached their destination.

They cruised the highways, making good time despite the traffic. The route he had picked was a long loop halfway around the beltway and back. It put them roughly at the midpoint of the action, in position to respond quickly to any team that ran into trouble. Being certain to keep his hands out of sight, John again checked the action on the light submachine gun he held.


“You look nervous, boss,” Bryce cracked with a grin, his eyes darting over to the dark figure perched restlessly on the seat beside him.

“The wages of sin, Bryce. You do this kind of op a hundred times, you won’t be so bloody cocky either,” John grunted, glancing at his watch for the fourth time in the last half-hour. This was always the worst part, the long moments that stretched out before the action began, the excruciating wait before he could lose himself in the immediacy of the violence.

“I’d think this would get easier with age. By now you ought to be able to run an operation like this in your sleep!” the younger man replied. Oblivious to the tension that held John firmly in its grip, he reached over to crank the radio. Bryce suppressed a smile at the look John shot him and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as Kid Rock blasted through the speakers. As much as he admired John, the guy was just way too serious. Bryce almost hoped that they would get called in to back-up one of the hit squads. He was too young to just sit around on his ass out in the middle of a blasted forest. The fact that the only cute girl he had seen in weeks had a daddy who was more than willing to rip his arms out of their sockets if he so much as looked in her direction hadn’t helped. The thought of Carrie Brady lit up his face with a happy smile and he leaned back in the seat and bobbed his head to the music. Cruising down the freeway, he couldn’t imagine life getting any better than this.

“Bryce, turn that crap down!” John snapped, jerking Bryce back from the hypnotic trance of the road. “We’ve got calls coming in. The targets are starting to fall.”

As he turned his attention to the shortwave, John couldn’t help but note the spark of excitement that lit Bryce’s eyes. He knew the man was bored acting as back-up, but had decided it was time to start giving him some experience at directing a large operation like this one. Still, he could hardly blame the young man for wanting to be a part of the action. He could barely stand it himself, waiting and listening while others made the kill. Still, John hoped that this was one mission he could sit out. If he and Bryce saw action, it would mean that something had gone bad with one of the hits. This was not a mission he could afford to have go bad. Trying to ignore his sense of unease, he turned his attention to the voices on the radio.

“So? How’s it looking?” Bryce asked, the excitement showing in his voice.

“Ease of the accelerator there, Bryce. We don’t want to get pulled over,” John muttered, trying to match the reports crackling in over the radio with the list of targets in his head.

Unconsciously, he nodded in satisfaction. The first wave of four targets had been dropped without a hitch. They had been the most worrisome, taking place out in the suburbs. Too many houses, too many families, and not enough cover to make things easy. With the most complex part of the mission a success, he began to relax into the flow of the action and a small smile creased his face.

“Head us into the city, Bryce,” he ordered. “Anybody has a problem now, it’s going to be the folks downtown.”

As Bryce obligingly steered the van toward an exit, he couldn’t help but comment. “You don’t have to look quite so pleased that we aren’t going to see any action, boss. I mean, I’m still young! I could do with the opportunity to show Dimera what I’m capable of when things get ugly.”

Suppressing a chuckle, John raised an eyebrow and replied mildly, “Well, let me just get my walker out of the back of the van and you can drop me off right here, Bryce. I’d hate to think I’m cramping your style.”

Bryce smiled and gave a shrug, steering the van down a crowded street toward the Loop. “Hell, boss. It’s not that you’re old. I mean, damn! You must be doing something right to get with a woman like that Dr. Evans. Wow! The way she had you bent over that table in the munitions room...” Bryce’s voice died abruptly as he noticed the ominous silence filling the suddenly tight confines of the van.

“Uh, I just mean… She is really pretty,” he said nervously, trying to ignore John’s eyes boring into him.

“Pretty like her daughters?” John asked, his tone low and even as he studied the young man who sat sweating beside him.

“I wouldn’t know, sir. I never look at her daughters,” Bryce replied, his knuckles whitening with the ferocity of the grip he had on the steering wheel.

“Good answer, Bryce,” John finally said, leaning his body back against the worn seat. Cracking a small grin, he muttered, “But, she really is a hottie, isn’t she?!”

Keeping his eyes glued firmly to the road, Bryce fervently replied, “Yes sir!”

She had lain for hours in the big bed, seeking the black nothingness of sleep. Seeking the oblivion that would wash away the bitter sound of Dimera’s words. Searching for a place where John belonged to her and only her.

‘I am John’s family. I always have been and I always will be...’ The words echoed like some dark curse, invading every recess of her mind. She wanted it to be a lie, wanted to deny it as the rantings of a madman. But the reality of it was that John had gone. He had shared himself with her in a way she had not thought possible. The memories of his touch, the depth of feeling in his eyes… it still sent a shiver through her. But despite all that they had shared, he had still gone. It was the one thing he could have done to make her realize that she did not know him. It was the only thing he could have done. But his leaving had forced her to acknowledge that the man she loved was also a true son of Dimera. He was stronger than she could ever have imagined. He was a force she could not understand and one she was uncertain she would like if she did.

Groaning, she buried her head in the pillows, trying to escape the smell of his touch that still lingered on her skin. The subtle reminder of how very much she loved him produced a constant ache in the face of his absence. She admitted to herself that he had done it to protect her. He had left in order to protect her, to eliminate the danger to her and her children. But in protecting her, he was willing to kill. He would exterminate a dozen men like they were bugs, all because he thought they were a threat to her. Human beings, with wives, with families. John would kill them all and he would feel nothing but relief at the loss. The conflicting thoughts roiled in her mind and the only label she could find for her feelings was anger. Anger at him, for being something so evil. Anger at herself, for not being able to make him whole through her love alone. And ultimately, the anger was because she knew she would love him no matter what he did.

Uwilling to wrestle her dark thoughts any longer, she slid from the bed and moved to the shower. The hot water pounded against her, washing away the last traces of the scent of him. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to cry. But the tears leaked out, mingled with the stinging stream of water, and swirled away down the drain. As the water washed over her, it somehow felt that she was losing the last little piece of him, the last sign of the love that they had shared. With that recognition, she finally acknowledged to herself that it was not anger she felt at his leaving. It was fear. Fear that he would not come back.

Shit! It was all going to hell. The police response was so much quicker than expected. The city teams were reporting a heavy police presence, and John knew that some of the members of the Brotherhood must have been calling them in at the first reports of the attacks in the suburbs. The men would eventually have to explain why they were the targets of a hit. Eventually, their lies would unravel and they would end-up in prison. But John didn’t want them in prison. He wanted them dead.

“Fuck! Step on it Bryce, or we are going to lose that team,” he ordered tightly, slipping off his jacket to reveal a S.W.A.T. kevlar vest worn over a tight black T-shirt. Both he and Bryce were dressed to blend in with the D.C. forces and it gave them an excuse to wear the black ski masks that would hide their identities. He yanked the mask out, ready to pull it over his face the second the van reached their destination. The adrenalin surged through his body and the icy calm that had carried him through a hundred battles engulfed his mind. He was unaware of the ugly smile that marred his features. He was aware of nothing but the immediacy of death and his desire to make it happen.

John chambered a round and rested his index finger on the safety catch, willing the van to go faster. At least his men were responding as ordered. Three city hits had gone down without problem, and his men had already slipped away to vanish into the crowded city streets. But the last two teams were in trouble. One team had failed to report in after their last message. John could only hope they had managed to take down their mark as he had been led out to a waiting police car.

The other team was stationed on a rooftop and had been biding their time, watching as their target finished his lunch, and waiting for him to leave the diner. When the police had come screeching up to the building, they had called for back-up, knowing that they could not escape from the third floor once they took down their mark. The police would know their location and they would be trapped. John had ordered the hit to proceed and now he and Bryce sped through the city streets in order to reach them in time. With speed, deception and precision, he knew he could create a diversion and give the men their chance to rappel down the rear of the building and fade away into the city.

As they careened around the last corner, John saw the flashing lights of three police cars. The officers milled behind their cars, just starting to spread out to approach the building John knew housed his team. With grim satisfaction, he noted the crumpled body that had been pulled behind one of the cars and knew that his team had been successful. Whatever else happened, at least the Brotherhood was broken. It would never threaten Marlena or her children again. Pushing the thought of her away, he waited impatiently to be released into the fray. As the van screached to a halt, John pulled the mask over his face and left the vehicle at a dead sprint.

He charged toward the nearest police car, hoping that no formal chain of command was in place and that his S.W.A.T. gear would generate enough confusion to allow him to pull this off. If it didn’t, this was going to be a bloodbath. As he ran, he grabbed a grenade from the pouch on his belt. With a casual toss, he lobbed an incendiary directly into the doorway of the building. A brilliant flash of light and heat, and the doorway exploded just as John slammed into the rear fender of one of the police cars surrounding the building. The noise and the fire drew him in and he was lost to the wildness.

“They’re coming out,” he screamed, ignoring the startled look on the face of the officer at the opposite end of the car. He opened up on the doorway with his weapon set on full automatic. The crackle of gunfire filled the air, and as he had expected, the other officers responded with withering fire of their own. The entryway to the building disintegrated under the assault, and he almost grinned at their predictability. Street officers really weren’t trained for this sort of operation. Jazz them with a little adrenalin and they would forget their training and open fire on anything another cop was shooting at. Caught in the moment, it was all he could do not to charge the building. He had no doubt the young officers would follow him, he held them in the palm of his hand. Forcing himself back to the goal of the mission, he eased off the trigger and popped in a fresh clip. Time to finish this little diversion.

The cops were completely fixated on the building and John backed slowly away from them. Almost casually, he eased toward the van that drifted up the street toward the patrol cars and their flashing blue lights. The gunfire was slacking off as he popped the door, the sound of sirens racing toward their location urging him to hurry. Refusing to be rushed, he reached into his pouch and tossed three smoke bombs in the direction of the still oblivious officers. Leaping into the van, he slammed the door and leaned out the open window as the first of the grenades exploded into dense gray plumes of smoke. The startled cops shifted to face the new threat and he opened up with his automatic, stitching the police cars with a deadly hail of bullets. As the startled officers scattered, John realized that he was purposely aiming for metal rather than flesh. That he cared at all was an unexpected weakness, and in sudden confusion he ceased firing, watching as the men ran for cover.

The smoke bombs had been the signal Bryce had been waiting for and with a squeal of tires he sent the van racing backward down the city street. As the van slammed into motion, John slipped down into the seat and pulled his seatbelt tight. The cops were milling about in the middle of the street, a few firing futile angry shots after the retreating van. Recognizing that the cops were now totally focused on the van, John again allowed himself a grim smile of satisfaction. If that hadn’t provided his team with enough of a diversion to rappel down the back of the building, nothing would.

The satisfaction died abruptly, as Bryce spun the van around to head back toward the beltway. Two cruisers skidded to a halt a hundred yards ahead of them, effectively blocking the roadway. Without hesitation, Bryce floored the accelerator. The big engine screamed with power, and by the time they blasted through the center of the cruisers they were hitting 50 miles an hour. The impact was staggering and John lurched hard against the seatbelt as Bryce fought for control of the van. The van veered sharply to the left as rear tires blew. With a tight grimace, John braced for impact. At least he would die with the knowledge he had ended the threat to his family.

The van swerved wildly and Bryce pumped the breaks in a hopeless attempt to control the shuddering vehicle. With a loud ‘thud’ the tires hit the curb and they went airborne. The sound of the front tires blowing out was the last thing John heard before they slammed into the thick telephone pole head-on. The impact flipped the van and it continued to shoot across the pavement on its side, the tortured metal sending up a shower of sparks.

As the skidding wreckage finally slid to a halt, John gathered his bearings. His right arm felt like it was on fire, hard pavement where his window should have been. Trapped in his seat, the rage blossomed in the center of his brain. He would not go down like this. He raised his feet and kicked against the shattered safety glass of the windshield. “Christ, Bryce! Give me a hand here!” he yelled in irritation, looking up to meet the gaze of the man who hung above him, secured by his safety belt. As the glass suddenly popped loose, John noticed that the entire front driver’s side had collapse. Blood dripped down from the top of one of Bryce’s thighs and John thought he glimpsed bone where the steering wheel had been smashed down across the man’s legs. With frieghtened eyes Bryce held his gaze, helplessly pinned by the twisted metal.

Cursing, John shoved the glass away and crawled out the window. They had to run. They had to run now, or they were dead. Forcing his right arm to function despite the growing numbness, he grabbed the remains of the steering wheel and tried to wrench it back from the broken legs of the young man. They had to run now.

A sudden ‘Whoosh’ of air, and black smoke began to fill the interior of the van. A bright tongue of orange flame shot across the top of the vehicle and in sudden desperation, John braced his leg against the frame of the window and levered himself backward. He sensed a slight give in the metal as the inside of the cabin burst into flames, ruptured gas exploding with the heat. The hair on his arm crinkled and he dropped his head to shield his eyes. He ignored the pain and gave another desperate yank, the flesh of his hands starting to burn. The last thing he saw before the tears blurred his vision was Bryce’s blond hair scorching to black cinders. And then the screaming started.

John had heard a sound like that only once before in his life. Walking through the woods, the shrill shriek had pierced the peace of the afternoon. It was the sound of the damned in hell, and John could not believe it was made by a living thing. He had traced the sound to its source, only to find a rabbit, caught in the steel jaws of a trap. Its rear legs were crushed, mangled beyond recognition. The rabbit lay looking at him, howling that ungodly sound from its tiny throat. The screaming had stopped when John reached to touch the animal. It had stopped when he had grasped its head and snapped its neck.

He would never have thought a sound like that could come from a human’s throat. He released his hold on the melting rubber of the steering wheel. Standing in the center of the fire, the flames licked the air around him as he gently squeezed the trigger of the automatic. Even through the dense black clouds that engulfed him, John could see the spray of the blood as round after round ripped through flesh and bone. He could feel the splatter, as the heat of the flames finally forced him back. In that instance, he could hear it- the beautiful sound of silence as the screaming finally stopped. Without hesitation, he turned and ran.

-----

Marlena didn’t bother to knock, just pushed the door to the study open and stepped inside. As much as she hated facing Dimera, he was the only one who could ease the sick feeling of dread that burned through the very fiber of her being. She could feel it in her gut. Something had gone wrong. Something had happened to John. The certainty of it coursed through her with every breath she took. She could only pray that Dimera would tell her she was wrong.

His back was to her, but his anger was clear as he yelled into the phone. “Dammit! I do not care how many police officers they have crawling the streets. I want every man we have at our disposal out there. The reports tell us they found only one body. That means he is out there somewhere. I want him found and I want him found now! If I lose him because you incompetent cretins are afraid of clashing with the local police, I will teach you the real meaning of fear! Do I make myself clear?!”

The big man turned and slammed the phone down, noticing Marlena’s precence. Standing in the doorway, a haunted look in her eyes, she clasped her arms around herself and tried to stop the tremors that shook her slim frame.

“What happened?”

With a silent sigh, Stefano cursed his carelessness and decided it was time to start locking his office door. Trying to keep the fear from his voice, he replied steadily, “Nothing has happened, Marlena. Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Now, please, I have work to do.”

He was not surprised when she ignored his invitation to leave and instead crossed the gap between them with stiff stilted steps. “Something is wrong. Please, Stefano. I am begging you. Tell me where he is,” she said, her voice trembling.

“You show a disturbing lack of confidence in the man, Marlena,” he replied gently, waving her toward the big leather sofa. “You really don’t know him very well if you think he would fall so easily at the hands of a mob of inept local cops. Really now! John will be insulted by your lack of faith.”





Marlena allowed herself to be led to the sofa, failing to notice Dimera’s light touch on her arm. She was aware only of the overwhelming fear and dropped her head to her knees in an attempt to draw air into her lungs. It was only when she choked on the harsh taste of the brandy from the glass Stefano forced to her lips that she was brought back to her present reality.

“You said there was a body. I heard you say it!” she accused, staring up at the man through eyes bright with tears. “Stefano, I have to know!”

Rubbing irritably at the back of his neck, Stefano picked up his own glass and settled into the armchair opposite her. God, she was stubborn. “Marlena, the mission was a success. The Brotherhood has been utterly destroyed. Their entire leadership was wiped out, just as we had planned. However… John was supervising the mission. He went to provide back-up for one of the teams. The team managed to escape, but the vehicle John was in was completely destroyed. We haven’t heard from him since the accident. If he was able, he would have made contact by now. My men are sweeping the area for him. The will find him. They know better than to fail.”

“And the body? Whose body did they find, Stefano?”

Closing his eyes, Stefano leaned his head back and took a long pull on his glass. His voice emotionless, he replied. “The van John was in flipped over and caught fire. They found one body in it. It was burned beyond recognition. Bryce was John’s partner on the assignment. I assume that the body is his.”

“But you don’t know, do you Stefano? You can’t know that the body isn’t John’s!” Marlena said, an empty coldness in her voice.

“Marlena. You know John. You have seen what he is capable of. Do you really have any doubt that if one man made it out of the wreckage, that man was John?” Wearily, Dimera fixed his dark eyes on her face. He did not miss the look of relief that crossed her features.

“No. No, you’re right. He got out. If it was possible, he would do it,” she said, nodding to herself, feeling the certainty of it, even through the fear that had clouded her mind. As the fear subsided to a manageable level, she was ashamed of herself. Ashamed that a young man, barely more than a boy, was dead and all she could feel was the relief that it wasn’t John.

“Marlena, why don’t you try and get some rest. I will call you as soon as I hear anything,”

Curling her knees up beneath her, she shook her head. “No, Stefano. I want to stay here. I want to stay here until we know.”

He saw her determination in the set of her shoulders, the tightly clenched fists in her lap. Without argument, he shrugged and again lay his head against the back of the chair. Sipping deeply from his glass, he tilted his head back and studied the faint cracks in the plastered ceiling. In the tomblike silence, the two enemies sat and waited.

John collapsed against the brick wall of the alley. Unable to keep his feet, he dropped to his knees and let his head fall forward to rest against the cool pavement. Breathing in great lungfuls of air, he tried to focus his eyes despite the dizziness. As the pounding in his ears subsided, he sat up and attempted to plan his escape.

The fact that the van had caught on fire was the only thing that had saved him. The thick black smoke had concealed him from the searching eyes of the police. The heat of the fire had set-off the munitions in the back of the van, sending the cops scrambling for cover. It had allowed him to reach the temporary safety of a side alley and from there he had simply started running. With a grimace, he realized there was no way he could run fast enough and far enough to escape the net they would throw out for him. It was time to stop running and start thinking.

He suppressed a shiver at the touch of the cold fall air and glanced down at his bare arms. He was covered in black soot, but beneath the grime he could make-out reddened skin already blistering from the heat of the flames. The reek of gasoline and burnt flesh clung to him. With an irritated shake of his dark head, he pushed back the images of Bryce, wreathed in flames and dissolving under the assault of the bullets. John’s bullets. John’s gun.

Stumbling to his feet, he tucked the memories away and fought for focus. But while his mind was willing, his body was weak. With the barest whimper, he fell again to his knees. Huddled against the wall. Assessed the damage that had forced his body to betray him. The right sleeve of his shirt was missing, scrapped away by the asphalt as the van had slid across the road on its side. The flesh was rubbed raw and the blood still oozed out in a slow trickle. He attempted to make a fist, was relieved to find that the muscles still responded to his will. His ribs ached and the tremors shook his body as the aftershock set in. None of that would kill him. None of it would stop him. He could make his body function, despite the damage to the flesh. But there was no way in Hell he was going to blend in with the crowd. Not like this. He looked like a refugee from the losing side of some war.

Unconsciously clenching his right hand into a fist in an effort to keep the limb from completely stiffening up, he slowly rose to his feet. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and it was only with a conscious effort that he kept his feet. Dimly, he realized that he would have to go to ground soon. He would not be able to function for much longer. It was time to hide.

Two doors let out onto the grimy alley, a restaurant if the smell of rotten food from the dumpster was any indication. The doors were firmly locked and he briefly considered kicking one in. Stupid move, in this area of town there was sure to be an alarm system. There had to be another way to get off of this blasted street.

A fire escape climbed the side of one of the buildings, its bottom ladder pulled up far beyond his reach. But the windows… The lower windows were covered by a lattice-work of bars, sealing them off from easy entry. A strong man could use those bars to pull himself up the side of the building, maybe reach the lowest rung of the fire escape. Maybe.

Ignoring the protests of his right arm, John jumped up and managed to grabbed the bottom bars on the second story windows. Grunting with the effort, he pulled himself slowly upward, climbing the bars like a ladder until he could jam the toe of his boot onto the lowest grate. He was still a good five feet away from the tantalizing lower rung of the fire escape. If he tried and failed, he knew he’d lack the energy to make a second attempt. Without pausing to consider the consequences, he thrust his body across the empty space.

It wasn’t going to be enough. For a split-second, he thought his tired body had failed him. Then hard metal slapped against his right palm and he clung to it with all his might. Torn muscles screamed in protest as he clawed for a perch with his good left hand and slowly pulled himself up to the security of the first landing. Mind and body exhausted, he simply sat for a moment, clenching his knees to his chest. His vision narrowed to a pinprick, the darkness closing in. Numbly, he forced himself to his feet. Staggering to the nearest window, he pushed against it with all he had left. He was not surprised when it failed to budge. Fighting down the urge to simply smash through the pane of glass, he pushed his lank hair back from his eyes and studied the lock. Steadied his breathing. Tried to concentrate. Fumbling in his back pocket, he pulled out a set of picks. Using a long slim rod, he reached through a gap in the sill and jiggled the simple mechanism until it slipped from the metal bracket that had secured the window. With the last of his fading strength, he tugged the window open and fell inside.

The mumble of a deep voice pulled her out of the nightmare, and it was with relief that she made her escape from the clutches of sleep. Her dreams had been filled with fire and the screams of dying men. Even the sound of Stefano’s hated voice was an improvement over that. Groggily Marlena rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked over the back of the sofa to see him gently setting the phone back in its cradle.

“What is it? What did you hear?” she asked, the hope and the fear warring in her voice.

Tiredly, he shook his head. “There’s still no word. Dammit!” he yelled, slamming a thick hand to the face of the desk, the sharp sound of the impact making her flinch. Oblivious to her reaction, Stefano rose irritably to his feet, stretching his arms high above his head in an attempt to release the tension. Shaking his head from side to side like a wounded bull, he muttered to himself. “I should never have let him go on this mission. Dammit, I knew better!”

As he stalked past her, clenching his meaty hands into fists, she could not help the curiosity that his words inspired. “What do you mean ‘let him go’, Stefano? You sent him on this mission. Don’t try and pretend that this is not your fault!”

Her accusation brought his pacing to a halt, and he spun to face her with angry eyes. “Marlena, I have told you. I do not ‘make’ John do anything. I tried to pull him off the mission this morning. The plans were already laid out. His presence was not necessary for the success of the mission. And after your ‘night together’I thought he was too distracted to be in the field. But no! He insisted on supervising. He was unwilling to trust your safety to another man. He went to protect you, despite my wishes. And if he was careless, I am certain that it was because his thoughts were on you! You make him weak, Marlena. One of these days, that weakness will get him killed!”

He turned from her in sudden irritation. Irritation with the woman, and the hold she had over John. Irritation with John, for not being here. Most of all, he turned in irritation with himself for letting this woman get to him yet again. With a groan of frustration, he collapsed into the big armchair and took up his vigil yet again.

Marlena stared at him in shocked silence. Finally, she could contain herself no longer, and let out a chuckle that was tinged with hysteria. “You are mad at me! You are actually mad at me for putting John in danger! Do you realize the insanity of that! I was a witness to your tortures, Stefano! I saw how much you care for John. I saw it in the bruises on his body. I saw it in the marks of the chains. Don’t pretend you see him as anything more than some wounded animal you have trained to kill on your command!” Her eyes wide with amazement at the man’s twisted view of the world, she could not bring herself to be angry. The man was too bizarre for anger, his thought processes too perverse.

“Marlena, I have no desire to discuss my relationship with John. I am sorry if I have offended you, but frankly, you do not have any idea what I feel for John,” Dimera answered, his tone dismissive.

“I have no wish to understand what you think or what you feel, Stefano. The very possibility sickens me,” she snapped back tiredly, goading the man more out of frustration than anything else.

It should not have mattered to him what she thought. It had never mattered to him what anyone else thought. But as he looked wearily across at her, he realized that it did matter. “Marlena, have you never wondered why I allowed John to stay with you? For 14 years, I let him believe he was Roman. I let him live that life. I could have brought it down with a single command, yet I did not. Why do you think I did that?”

His question took her by surprise, and she studied him suspiciously. “I… He would never have believed you Stefano. To make him believe he wasn’t Roman, you had to drug him. You had to torture him. You had to have him in your control. You never destroyed his life because you couldn’t. And the first chance you had at him, you took it!”

“Marlena, all that I had to do was release Roman. The ‘real’ Roman Brady. If I had wanted to shatter John’s life, that is all it would have required.”

Uneasily, she looked away. Suddenly uncertain that she wanted to continue this discussion, she gave an uncomfortable shrug of her shoulders. “I am sure you had your reasons, just as I am sure that it was done in your own self-interest. The fact of the matter is, you did shatter his life. You destroyed the only life he wanted to know. That is all that matters now.”

He gave a grim chuckle. “You avoid my question, Marlena. Is it because you fear you will not like the answer? Marlena, I wanted him back. I wanted him to remember just exactly who and what he was. And yes, the first chance I had to do that safely, I took the risk. But if I had simply wanted him out of your life, I would have allowed Roman his freedom. The man meant nothing to me once he was beaten. I kept him only as insurance for the future. It would have cost me nothing to release him. And one way or another, that would have driven John from your life.”

“You don’t know that. You can’t know that,” she whispered, looking away from the dark figure that sat across from her.

“I know it, and you do too, Marlena. If Roman had returned, it would have driven John mad. As you say, he would never have admitted that he was not the real Roman. He would never have admitted it to himself! I don’t know if you have realized this yet, but John is not the most stable man on the planet. In the end, he would have killed Roman- or he would have killed himself. In either case, it would have destroyed him. And Marlena, that was never what I wanted.” The soft words were said with a certainty that was undeniable. Irresistible. And it was the truth of the words that she hated.

“You are evil, Stefano. Everything that you have done to me. To my family. For God’s sake, what you did to Roman. You are evil and I don’t want you anywhere near me or my family. And more than anything, I don’t want you anywhere near John!” She hissed the words at him and in the hazel depths of her eyes, the threat was plain to see.

“Ah, Marlena. There is no need to be nasty. In the end, it is not what you want, or what I want, that matters. In the end, it boils down to what John wants,” he replied, flashing an ugly smile that never quite reached his eyes. With silken words, he twisted the knife.

“Let us be honest with each other, Marlena. When you call me evil, you are mistaken. I do not choose to follow the rules that bind most people. I have the power and the will to make my own rules. It is what sets me apart from other men, my dear. I accept no higher authority than my own will. But this does not make me evil. It makes me amoral. You should learn to distinguish the difference. After all, it is what sets John apart as well.”

The pulsing music brought him back to consciousness and he suppressed a groan as he attempted to sit up. His eyes fought to focus in the thick gloom, and it was clear that he had been out for several hours. The sun was a fading memory beyond the dirty panes of the window, the bright light filtering in from the main room was the only source of illumination. Squinting against the glare of from the doorway, he saw that the rooms were separated by long strings of black chain. As his head began throbbing in time to the pounding of industrial music, he wondered just where the hell he was.

He tried to get to his feet, but the dizziness kept him on his knees. His right side was on fire, his right arm now completely useless. Gingerly, he reached over and probed at his aching side. The kevlar vest was ripped and as soon as he tore open the velcro, he could feel the crusted blood that soaked the T-shirt he wore beneath the vest. Gritting his teeth, he explored the damage with his fingers. A shallow cut had sliced through his skin in a three inch long grove. He had no idea when it had happened. At least it explained his weakness. Between the cut on his side and the abrasions on his arm, he’d lost enough blood to make him shocky. With a wry grin, he held tight to his injured side and slowly levered himself to his feet. Figuring that it couldn’t get much worse, he carefully crossed to the doorway and peeked out into the main room. It was then that he realized that things could indeed get worse.

He was in a bar. He was in a gay bar. He was in one of the gay leather bars off the Loop. A couple of pretty young men sat at the bar, tight jeans and T-shirts the uniform of the day. Hw watched in amusement as the two youngsters shot obvious looks in the direction of a giant bruiser of a man who sat at one of the small round tables that edged the dance floor. The man wore a black leather duster, even in the heated confines of the bar. John supposed it was made bearable by his lack of a shirt underneath. Watching the less than subtle flirting, he fought down a chuckle as the thought ran through his head that at least he shouldn’t have any problem finding someone to give him a ride home. Leaning heavily against the wall, he struggled to contain an almost hysterical laugh, and realized that he was not entirely lucid. He needed to contact Dimera and get the hell out of D.C. before he got careless. The police were certain to still be searching for him and his escape was far from complete.

His mind again on the business at hand, he limped from the doorway and looked for another way out. For a moment, he wondered why no one had found him when they opened the bar up. The room he stood in was still shrouded in blackness. The only light that penetrated was that which danced through the curtain of chains. Finding no door but the one that led to the main room, he perched on the arm of the couch. Absently, he searched through the debris on the end-table beside him. A sodden mass of crushed out cigarettes. The crinkle of a hand-rolled butt, its pungent smell indicating it was not tobacco that the fragile paper contained. A half-empty box, vacuum wrapped condoms its silent offering. The purpose of the small dark room in which he sat became immediately clear.

Again the humor of the situation struck him, and he figured at least he didn’t have to worry about having stained the couch with the blood and grime that covered his body. Deciding the best way out was the way he got in, he started to ease himself out the window. The howl of distant sirens reminded him of his rather conspicuous appearance, even for this part of town. With a slowly spreading grin, he decided that his best bet was to wait here. It was certain that eventually, his manner of escape would come to him. Moving stiffly, he went to crouch in the shadows beside the entry to the small dark room. Settling back on his heels, he cocked his head and listened for the sound of approaching footsteps through the din of the loud music. The tortured screams of the vocals tore through his head and he lost himself in the lyrics.

Unconsciously, he freed the burnt roach from the fist that had cradled it since its rescue from the ash tray. The flashing strobe lights painted splintered pictures across the far wall, the postmodern images a rapid fire assault that hurt his eyes, made him struggle to remember why he was here, made him wonder why he was at all. With a flick of his nail, a match burst into life and he drew the pungent smoke deep into his lungs.

‘Stupid, John. Stupid.’ The tiny voice yammered at him from the deepest recesses of his mind. ‘Gotta stay sharp. Gotta stay clear.’ The placid smoke stilled the voice and he drifted along below the surface of the assaulting waves of sound. He didn’t need to be sharp for this. How many times had he crouched like this? Alone. In the dark. Waiting. He didn’t need to be sharp. He needed to be numb.

Oh God. Not this. Please not this. Please not now. He didn’t want to think of her. Not in this place. He clasped his hands over his ears. Tried to reject the images of Her. Gold and white and pure, the images overwhelmed him. He had never been able to reject her. Not in any form. Not in any way. She was the only sin he had ever wished to repent.

He had clutched her body against his, striving to protect it from the bitter cold that permeated the cave. She had let him hold her. He hadn’t thought she would. She had let him hold her so tight that she had believed her ribs would break. Despite everything he had done, despite everything he was, that night she had given him her trust. He had gazed down on her still body, the peaceful look on her face taunting him. Challenging him. It was then he had known that he would sacrifice all that he was in order to be the man she wanted him to be. In a cold dark cave in the West Virginia wilderness, John Black had prayed for the first time since Katherine had died.

Tears burned bloodshot eyes and he tried to make himself sorry he had believed the lie. Tried to give contrition for living another man’s life. Tried and failed. He could not regret knowing her. Being with her. He would die rather than see her hurt, but he could not make himself free her from his taint. His curse. He would fight the heavens rather than lose her again.

The pungent smoke washed away the stench of the room and he rocked gently on his heels. Studied the glowing ember of the butt. Saw in the tiny flicker of light the glow of flames reflecting off of alabaster skin. Felt the moan in her throat, rumbling through the flesh that he pressed against. Knew again that fragment of eternity in which he could finally see clearly, that shining moment when he lost himself in her and became more than he had ever imagined possible. The moans in his memories mirrored the rasp of the guitar, became the screams of the song. The flickering flames in his mind’s eye shifted. Grew. Attacked and consumed. Bryce’s face contorted under their heat. Shriveled, charred, blackened. His bullets smashed through the ashes, scattering them to dust. As the pulsing rhythm died, he opened glittering eyes. With frightening clarity, he knew his purpose. He would return to her. It was the only thing that mattered. He crushed the remains of the joint into the dirty floor and clamped down on the pain that had threatened to overwhelm him. With the smile of a predator, he turned toward the approaching sound of heavy footfalls.





The chains across the doorway rattled an unnecessary warning, the slim form of one of the boys passing before his watchful eyes. Then, as he had hoped, the bruiser in the duster stalked into the room. Gritting his teeth against the pain, John rose smoothly to his feet and reach out with his left hand to swing the larger man around. As John’s knee connected with the soft tissue of his genitals, the man dropped without a sound. Certain that the punk would be out for a few moments, John reached for the boy. Grabbing him by the thick chain he wore around his neck, John pulled him close and looked down into frightened eyes. For a moment, he considered snapping his neck. But he was a kid. Just a kid. She wouldn’t like it. Besides, it wasn’t necessary.

“What are you doing with a guy like this, boy? You don’t belong to him, do you? Because this asshole took something of mine and I plan to get it back. If you belong to him, maybe I’ll just take you and we’ll call it even,” he growled menacingly.

Backlit by the light, the kevlar vest adding even more bulk to John’s muscular frame, the threat almost caused the boy to piss himself. “No! No, sir! I’m not his. Really. I was just...”

Struggling to keep the grin from his face, John shoved the young man toward the door. “Then get the hell out, ‘cause I have business to attend to,” he said gruffly, turning his attention to the man on the floor. Swiftly, he bent down and tugged the jacket from the motionless form. As he yanked the man’s belt from his waist, he was startled by the sound of the boy’s voice.

“Um, I could stay. If you want me to, I could stay,” he said, gaining confidence as he looked over the dark figure that dominated the small room.

John looked back in exasperation, wondering if he had made a mistake in letting the kid live. “Boy, get the hell out. Run on back to daddy and come see me when you grow up.” With a rough jerk, he yanked the belt away and the boy scuttled from the room with one wishful glance back.

As John flipped the man over to bind his hands, he saw the glint of metal hanging from a loop at the thick waist. “My, my. This is just too convenient,” he muttered as he tugged the handcuffs loose. Efficiently, he snapped the steel cuffs around the wrists and swiftly secured the man’s ankles with the belt. It wouldn’t hold forever, but it wouldn’t have to. He simply needed enough time to put a few blocks between himself and the bar. He had the distinct impression that no one around here would be calling the cops over the theft of a jacket. Hell, depending on who found him, the bound man might actually get a good time out of their little encounter.

Rising from the prone form, John settled the heavy leather duster over his shoulders. Reaching into a pocket, he found a not unexpected pack of tissues. Grateful that his unwilling partner was a fastidious man, John scrubbed furiously at his tender face, attempting to wipe away the worst of the soot and blood. Deciding it would have to do for the moment, he buttoned the front of the jacket and moved to the window. The drop to the ground was not going to feel good, but it was better than the risk of walking through the bright interior of the bar. He was fairly certain that he would not pass through unnoticed and it was past time for him to leave. He wanted to be home and the window was the fastest route there.





John eased his way down the stairs. He reached the end, dangling a moment from his left arm. Grimacing in anticipation of the impact, he let go and fell awkwardly to the pavement. Crouching, he waited for his vision to clear. If he wanted to be with her, he would suck it up and make himself move. Slowly, he straightened to his full height and walked down the dim alley to join the early revelers who already strolled the streets.

Marlena paced the width of the room for what seemed like the millionth time on this, what to had to be, the longest day of her life. “Stefano, damn! Why hasn’t anyone called? If you have so much power, why can’t you find one single man who has to be within a few miles of where the van wrecked?!” She snapped the words out, unconcerned with Dimera’s reaction. They had managed to survive this most excruciating of days without killing each other and she was past the point of being afraid of him. She was past the point of feeling anything at all toward him. He was a tool for her to use and until John had been found she would look on his presence as an irritating necessity. Nothing more and nothing less than that.

Dimera lay back on the sofa, rubbing tiredly at the bridge of his nose. “Marlena, there is nothing more to be done. My men will call when there is news. There is nothing to do but wait.”

“I hate this. Oh God, I just hate this so much,” she sighed in frustration. Exhausted by the strains of the day, her worry for John and her constant battling with Stefano, she collapsed across the legs of the big armchair.

“I hate it too,” was the weary reply.

“I want you to promise me that you will never send him out like this again. I want you to swear it to me now, or so help me I will see you dead.”

Stefano looked over at her in surprise, and the glint in her eyes was one he had seen before. She had worn that same look on the day she had shot him. The memory sent a sharp shiver down his spine and he sat slowly up on the couch to face her. “I do not take threats well, Marlena. Not even from you. But… I will not have him as an operative while he is with you. Never again. You make him weak and you will get him killed. I will not risk him in the field while thoughts of you cloud his judgement. That, I can promise you.”

The response was not what she had expected, no matter that she had meant the words. She studied his face curiously and found that she could almost believe the man. Her thoughts were interrupted by the shrill ring of the phone on Dimera’s desk. At the sound, her heart seemed to stop. Hardly daring to breathe, she waited as Stefano cautiously lifted the phone.

He stood wordlessly, intent on the voice at the other end of the line. Finally, he gave a brief nod. “Well done. Bring him out when you are able. We will expect you tomorrow at the latest.”

As the words registered in her mind, she felt the beginnings of the relief. When Stefano turned to her with what was the only genuine smile she had ever seen from him, she knew it was going to be all right. “He’s okay?”

Stefano released a loud laugh. “He’s fine. A little banged-up, but he will be fine. He will be out here by tomorrow morning. I wanted the doctors to examine him before he flew back to the compound. See- I told you he would be fine!”





She rolled her eyes at his ego, but even Dimera could not stop her grin. “He’s okay. He really is?”

“Would I lie to you, Marlena?” Stefano asked, his smile taking on its usual slightly sinister cast.

“Not about this. You would know better than to lie about this, Stefano. And your promise? You will keep your promise to me as well. John will never go out like this again. I have your word on it?”

“You have my word.”

-----

Stefano raised his head tiredly, the soft knock on the door waking him from a light doze. Stiffly, he sat up in the big chair behind his desk and called out, “Come!” The door swung open to reveal the battered form of a his second in command.

“Hey. Wasn’t sure you’d still be up,” John said.

“I waited,” was the dry response. “I had serious doubts about your ability to stay put until dawn. I do hope you at least took the time to have the doctor examine you?” Dimera asked, looking John over with a critical eye. Wrapped in a leather duster that was two sizes too big, swaying slightly with the effort of keeping his feet, the man looked like shit.

“Yea. All the basic parts are still there. He sewed me up and gave me some meds. I just need to sleep for a month and then I’ll be fine,” John said as he eased down on the sofa. Closing his eyes for a moment, he almost passed out where he sat. At the sound of Stefano’s heavy tread, he cracked an eye open and with a grunt of gratitude took the proffered glass.

“Thanks,” he said hoarsely, tilting the glass to his lips and letting the amber fluid burn away the bitter taste of fire and smoke.

“I was worried. You okay?”

Fighting the urge to cough, John nodded. “At least it’s finally over.”

“I hope you’re right,” Stefano muttered, sitting in the leather chair opposite John.

At John’s quizzical look, Stefano gave a slight shrug. “Something about this entire scenario seems wrong. There is something about the cartel’s actions that doesn’t quite make sense. Some agenda that we don’t know about. John, there may be another player in this game. After all, it almost seemed as if you were their main target.”

“Yea. Yea, I noticed that,” John replied with a tight grin, forced to address an issue he had hoped to ignore. He shook his head, dismissing the uneasy feeling that nagged at him whenever he stopped to consider the Brotherhood’s actions. “But that had to be Roman’s doing. Hell, it doesn’t make sense any other way. I’ve been out of the business way too long to have been the main target. Roman’s the one who wanted me out of Marlena’s life. If the Brotherhood was after me, it was only in order to get to you.”

“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”

John snorted. “I’m tired, Stefano. I’m sick and tired of this whole ugly business. As far as I’m concerned, the threat ended with the Brotherhood.”

“You’re probably right,” Stefano said, letting the matter drop. If John didn’t want to admit that a threat still existed, now was not the time to push him on it. If a third party was involved, it would come to light soon enough. For now, he would allow the younger man the illusion of safety. In the morning, he would begin the search for the missing piece to this puzzle. The mystery could wait that long at least.

Shrugging his broad shoulders, Dimera shifted the discussion to the reality of the here and now. “Have you considered what to do about the hit squad the Brotherhood had doing their dirty work?”

Settling back into the thick leather, John took a deep swallow of whiskey. With a casual wave of one hand, he evaded the question. “It’s up to you, Stefano. They’re mercenaries, you know that. Without the Brotherhood directing their actions, they’ll fade back into the woodwork. They’re soldiers. They do what they’re paid to do. You want me to hunt them down, I will. But I doubt there’s any point to the exercise.”

His surprise evident, Stefano cocked an eyebrow. “I had not expected such forbearance on your part, John. Perhaps Marlena has had a positive influence on you!”

“I want this over and done with,” John responded grudgingly, as if admitting to some fatal flaw.

With a look that was almost sympathetic, Stefano nodded. “Well, if the mission is now complete, would you care to tell me what went wrong? I sat here all day waiting for some word from you. My only company, by the way, was the always charming Dr. Evans.”

John straightened, his eyes locking on Dimera’s own. “God damn you! Why did you tell her there was a problem? You shouldn’t have said a thing until you knew for certain!”

“John, I did not have to tell her a thing,” the big man placated. “She just… knew. So we sat. And we waited.” At the memories of the afternoon, Stefano gave a painful chuckle.

John’s smile was grim. “Glad I wasn’t here for that,” he said as he slouched back into the padded couch.

“You should be. That woman can be extemely unpleasant when she puts her mind to it. But, the evening was not a total loss. We did come to an agreement of sorts. It has been decided that you will never go out in the field again.”

John was too tired to be pissed. “So glad to know that you two have been planning out the rest of my life for me. And I do so appreciate your informing me.”

Unable to help himself, he pictured the two of them sitting together through the long hours. The chuckle that escaped him sounded like a groan of pain to his own ears. Sighing, John closed his eyes and tried to turn his mind from the image of Stefano and Marlena, sitting in this room together for hours on end. God, if she hadn’t been mad at him before, she would be now. Hesitantly, he asked, “Where is she, Stefano?”

The old man had wondered how long it would take John to ask. He was so predictable where she was concerned. “I sent her off to bed. I told her you weren’t expected in until the morning. Besides, that was the literal truth.”

“Gee, where did this sudden concern for the truth come from, Stefano? Still, it’s just as well. She doesn’t need to see me right now. Think I’ll just go to bed.”

“I doubt she would agree with you.”

“Christ! I stink of death and you know it!” John snapped.

On that, Dimera had to agree. “Where did you get that awful duster, anyway?”

Levering himself carefully to his feet, John shrugged. “Long story, Stefano. A long, strange story.”

“I can image,” Dimera said with a small smile.

“I doubt it,” was the muttered reply, as John walked out the door.

He had stumbled to his bed, barely summoning the energy to shrug the duster from his shoulders and kick the boots off his feet. But as he lay in the darkness, the thoughts that tore through his mind made sleep impossible. God, how could he face her in the morning? He had known she would be angry with him for leaving, but he had pushed it aside as a necessary evil. He could not have taken the risk of leaving those men alive. He doubted that she would accept that as a good excuse. After sitting all day with Dimera, waiting to discover whether he had lived or died, he doubted any excuse would be acceptable. Cursing his stupidity, he wondered how it was he managed to fuck up everything that ever mattered to him. As his worried thoughts faded into twisted nightmares, his breathing deepened and he achieved a semblance of sleep. The hours passed in restless tossing that ended abruptly with the scream of an alarm.

He was jolted from sleep by the wail of sirens, the panic alarm sounding throughout the main house. Instantly he was out of bed, grappling for boots tossed aside only hours before. The night still showed pitch black through the window, but the interior of the lodge was dimly lit by the glow of emergency lights. Snatching his holster, he was out the door and on the way to the guest suite less than a minute after the alarm had pierced the quiet.

Gun in hand, he ran down the long hall as guards surged through the narrow corridor. Each of Dimera’s compounds had specified security responses, depending on the level of threat identified. The alarm still shrieking in the night air signaled a full scale attack and Dimera’s men moved to their stations with an assurance bought with long hours of drill.

John was less confident. He knew who the attacking force was, he could feel it in his bones. The cops wouldn’t be moving in, not in the middle of the night. This was a hit squad, not a rescue. It had to be the Brotherhood’s assault team. Son of a bitch! He had been too willing to accept that it was over. Someone else had a stake in this game, and they still had access to the ISA mercenaries. Cursing his stupidity, he fought down the rising sense of panic and shoved the milling guards out of his way.

The mercs were good. Damn good. At full strength, they should have at least 20 trained veterans and it was unlikely that his 10 men could hold out against a well planned attack. Given that scenario, the only option was to bug out, and he hoped that Dimera was already in route to the chopper. That hope was quickly dashed, however. As he pounded a fist against the suite’s locked door, Stefano came striding quickly up, a guard following at his heels. Shots rang out on the outer perimeter just as Marlena anxiously opened the door.

She had known it was him. From the moment the alarm had roused her from a restless sleep, she had known that he would come for her. The certainty of it had overpowered even the fear caused by the shriek of the sirens. The sight of him in the doorway, wild-eyed and half-dressed, a weapon held firmly in his grip, was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen.

Everything around him disappeared and she the only thing that existed in his world. As she swept into his arms, he was jolted back to reality by the knowledge that if he failed this time, she would pay the price. Not pausing for an explanation, John pushed his way through the open door, his arm locked around her slim form in unconscious desperation. Stefano, the guard at his side, followed close behind. John held her at arms length in order to allow himself to think, pleased to see she’d already pulled on jeans and a sweater. Unable to say what he really wanted to, he ordered gruffly, “Grab the kids. We have to get out of here. The compound is under attack.”

He tried to move her toward the kids’ rooms, but she stopped him with a soft hand on his forearm. He had come back to her. Her family was complete. It was time for the fear to end. “John, it’s okay now,” she said. “Just let this all be over. Please, don’t let Stefano drag us away to some new prison. We can stay here. We can explain to the police that you never kidnaped us. Please, for all our sakes, let this be over!”

Unable to meet her eyes, unwilling to tell her that nothing was over, nothing was ended, he wrenched his arm away just as Eric groggily opened his door. Looking blearily about, he finished tugging a tee shirt over his head. “What’s up with the alarm? Is it a fire?”

“Get a jacket and grab your sisters. We have to get out of here right now,” John snapped.

“John, no!” Marlena said.

“Doc, these ain’t the good-guys,” he said roughly. “They’re a Brotherhood assault team and they’re coming to sanitize this entire area. If you stay, you and the kids are dead. Just do as I say and we’ll get you all out of here.”

She hesitated and the fear overtook him. “Please, Doc! I’m begging you!” He stepped closer, wrapped her hand in his. “Marlena… Doc. If you have ever trusted me, trust me now. Those men will kill us all. I can’t force you and the kids to come and I’m not leaving without you. If you stay, it will get us all killed.”

His eyes were locked on her face, yet he was still aware that the small arms fire outside had already reached a peak. The shots were becoming more scattered, less frequent. It was an indicator that the perimeter had been breached. Men were down. His men.

“John...” Stefano grated a warning from where he stood in the open door.

Seconds before they reached the point where he had decided he would simply sling her over his shoulder and attempt to carry her out, she nodded. Glancing to where the children now stood, dressed in jeans and sweaters, she said, “Let’s go.”

John tried to hide his sigh of relief, but he caught her quick grin and knew that she had noticed. Pushing aside his doubts and his fears, he concentrated on getting his family out of this mess alive. With a sharp nod, he ordered Patrick, the guard at Stefano’s side, to take point while he covered the rear, the others closely spaced between them. Afraid they had already wasted too much time, he followed the small procession down the back stairs, his automatic held at the ready.

As they ran out the back door, John heard the sounds of sweepers moving through the front of the lodge. There was no time to lose, and he swung the door softly shut behind him, hoping to buy them a few more seconds before their absence was discovered.

Patrick had joined the two rear guards, waiting at their assigned station in the mudroom. “Is it clear?” John hissed almost soundlessly, tugging a camo jacket over his bare shoulders and pulling one of the emergency packs from the wall. Allowing himself a brief glance toward his family, he noted the look of determination on Marlena’s face. If there was the slightest risk to her children, she would waste no more thought on doubts or might-have-beens. She caught his glance with one of her own and shot him a tight smile. Damn! She was the strongest person he had ever known. Flushing guiltily, he shifted his eyes away and swore to himself that he would never put them in danger like this again. No matter what it cost him, he would see to it that they were safe.

“Sir? They fired a few shots at the rear of the house, sir. Just testing us, I think. We have good cover to the tree line, it should be clear. Should we move out?” the senior guard whispered.

John nodded. “I want two on point. Bolen, you’re in charge of looking after the kids. Stefano, keep close to Marlena. I’ll take the rear. When you hit the chopper, take off whether I’m there or not. I’m going to try and slow them down, provide some cover. If I don’t make the chopper, I’ll hike out. Everybody just try and be quiet and move as quick as you can.”

The two guards in the lead, the small band moved silently out into the dark Virginia night.

It had been too easy. Way too easy. He could feel the movement of men around him, though he could see no sign of them. Fuck! These guys were too good to leave the backdoor wide open like this. He peered again across the open field. Still nothing to see, despite the sliver of moonlight that shone down on the open grassland. He heard the cough of engines as the pilot started the helicopter. John doubted that the group had made it that far yet, but the pilot had standing orders to have the chopper ready for take-off in the event of a class three breach. With one last look around, he bent low and started toward the field. What the hell, maybe he was going to get lucky for once in his life. A glimmer of light sparked briefly against a black sky and he knew his luck had just run out..

The phosphorescent glare flared brightly and John abandoned all attempts at concealment as he sprinted through the grass toward the chopper. “Down! Get down, dammit!” he screamed as the orange glow made a beeline for the chopper.

Marlena crawled slowly through the damp grass, her wet clothes plastered to her body. Desperately, she tried to force her body to stop shaking. The cold night air seeped into bones and the only sounds she could hear were the slither of the grass and the chattering of her own teeth. Knowing it was pointless, she looked back at the cabin. The inky blackness revealed nothing, but she could sense his presence. She hated that he had stayed back there, even if she did understand it. He would protect her family. It was as certain as the fact that the sun would rise in the morning. Her fear was not for herself, but for him.

The young guard in front of her halted and she settled down next to him, Carrie at her side. Though she could not see his features, she could feel the heat of Dimera’s heavy body close by and she had to stop herself from pulling away. As they rested in silence for a moment, she tried to get some sense of where Eric and Sami were, but the darkness was impenetrable. She could only hope that Bolan and the twins were near.

After what seemed like hours, she heard the shrill sound of a whistle signaling them to make the final dash for the helicopter. Taking firm hold of Carrie’s hand, she half-rose to her feet. Her legs were cramped from the crawl through the field and she bit back a groan as she stumbled into a quick jog. They had crossed only the first couple of feet toward the chopper, its engine a steady hum 30 yards to their fore, when John’s panicked cry stopped her in her tracks. Pulling Carrie to a halt, she looked back in confusion. With a sudden flash of light, he was revealed. John’s face shone stark white in the glare of an unnatural light and she could see the fear in his eyes even from where she stood. As she struggled to make sense of his words, the force of the explosion washed over her and she was knocked to the cold ground.

He had covered less than 20 yards before the entire field exploded. Where the chopper used to be, a ball of blue-orange flame now roared into the night. Through the blinding glare he thought he caught a glimpse of a body standing in the field, and then there was nothing but the inferno.

‘God,’ he prayed, as he ran toward the glowing mass of metal that had been their way out. ‘God, please let them be safe,’ he begged. Though if asked to what god he prayed he would have been unable to answer, he sent his plea into the void in the hopes that it would be heard.

Less than 50 yards from the wreckage that was now sending up pale blue spikes of fire as the fuel exploded, he pulled-up short. A body lurched out at he almost pulled the trigger before he recognized Eric’s dazed form in the flickering light thrown out by the fire. Though the heat could be felt even at this distance, Eric appeared unhurt, if a little dazed.

As John pulled to a stop, he heard the crack of rifle fire echoing above the roar of the fire. Looping an arm around the Eric’s chest, he pulled him down into the cover of the grass. With a sigh of relief, he noted that Eric still clutched Sami’s hand in his own. She sat in the grass knees clenched to her chest, staring at him with eyes made black by the surrounding darkness.

“Are you both okay?” he asked urgently, keeping his head low.

“Yea Dad,” Eric replied shakily as Sami nodded her head..

In the dim light, he had to take them at their word. “Where’s Bolan?”

“He told us to stay here,” Eric answered, seeming to regain his focus. “He went to find everybody else.”

“Okay, I want you two to head east.” John ordered, pointing toward the side of the field. “Can you make-out that big tree over there? I’ll meet you there once I find Carrie and your mother.” Shrugging the backpack from his shoulders, he tossed it to Eric. “Keep this with you. Emergency supplies are there if you need them. Now, I want you to crawl out of here. Keep your heads low. You don’t have to hurry, but stay low. We’ll be right behind you, I promise.”

Eric nodded grimly, slinging the pack over his back as he began easing his way through the grass. Sami hesitated, her eyes locked on John’s, and then silently followed her brother into the night.

John gave a frustrated hiss, hating that he had brought this crap down on his kids. With a shake of his head, he slithered forward through the damp grass. The fire from the burning chopper was already dying down, the only good break he’d had so far. If the grass had caught, they might all have burned to death in this damned field. As the darkness deepened, he relied on his ears for some sign of life in the rustling grass. The hunters were out, sweeping across the field on a mission of destruction. But they’d be moving slow, treading carefully. There was still time to escape the trap if he could just find them. If they were still alive.

He sensed a presence. Off to his left, something was there. There was no sound, but he could feel it in his gut. He was too good at what he did to dismiss the feeling. Drawing his knife, he slipped silently across the damp ground. He was on top of the man almost before he saw him. John snaked an arm around the man’s neck and had him in a headlock before a sound could be uttered. As a flicker of flame shot up from the burning aircraft, he made out Patrick’s face staring fearfully up at him.

“Sir?” Patrick managed to croak.

John stifled a chuckle as the relief washed over him. The young guard certainly had a great deal of confidence in him, to assume it was John who had crept up on them out of the darkness. He let Patrick go and squinted through the darkness, his eyes instantly locking onto the shadowed figure he knew was her. “Everybody okay here?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The glint of moonlight reflected back at him from Marlena’s eyes as she knelt beside a still dark form. However, it was Bolan who answered his question. “Casey went down with the chopper and Mr. Dimera’s hurt, sir. I think he was hit by the debris. Dr. Evans says his pulse is strong, but he’s out cold and it’s too dark to tell how bad he’s hurt.”

“Damn,” he muttered, wondering what the hell they were going to do now.

“John, you have to get the children,” Marlena whispered. “Bolan said he left them back in the grass. Carrie’s here, but you have to go back for Sami and Eric.”

“They’re fine, Doc. I found them already, told them we’d meet them in the trees. But we have to get you out of here before the assault team gets here. They can’t be far and they know we’re in the field.”

“Then let’s go!” she whispered fiercely.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied, managing a grin. ‘Patrick, I want you to take the lead. Head for the old oak on the eastern treeline. Doc, you and Carrie stay right behind him. Bolan will bring up the rear.”

“What about Mr. Dimera, Sir?” Patrick asked.

“I’ll take care of Dimera. Don’t worry about it.”

Patrick looked at him like he was planning on slitting Stefano’s throat and leaving him in the field to die, and for a moment, John was tempted to. Instead, he shook his head. “Patrick, if we go dragging him through this grass, they’re bound to hear us. I want you guys safely out of the field before I try and move Dimera. I’ll give you 15 minutes to get clear and then I’ll carry Stefano out. It will be quieter that way and fewer bodies in motion will make it less likely we’ll draw attention. Is that alright with you?”

“Uh, sorry, sir,” Patrick muttered.

“Well, it’s not alright with me!” Marlena said, her voice shaking. “I’m not leaving here without you.”

“Doc...”

“No! I will let you put yourself at risk for the likes of Stefano Dimera! I need you, John. The children need you. We aren’t leaving without you. End of discussion.”

He bit back a groan and wondered why God hated him. “I’ll be right behind you, Doc. I just want you out of danger so I can move freely.”

Marlena simply glared at him. “No.”

“Doc, these men aren’t after Dimera. They’re after me. You’re safer if I’m not with you.”

“I don’t care if I’m safe. I’m not leaving here without you by my side,” she replied, settling down in the grass like some deranged Buddha.

His eyes narrowed. Time to play his trump card. “Sami and Eric are alone, Doc. Now I’m going to do everything I possibly can to make certain they get out of this mess alive. What are you going to do?”

Marlena flinched as if he’d struck her, but she didn’t get up. Nodding to Patrick, John snapped, “Get them out of here.”

Patrick didn’t wait to be told twice. Grabbing Carrie’s hand, he crawled off into the grass. They were almost lost to sight before Marlena lurched to her knees. “I hate you for this,” she hissed at John.

“Be careful,” he whispered back.

Grabbing him by the front of his jacket, she pulled him toward her for a desperate kiss. Without another word, she disappeared into the darkness. When Bolan moved to follow, John stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“Bolan, I don’t want you waiting. Give it 10 minutes and if you don’t see me, take the family and get out of here. If you hear concentrated fire, it means we’ve been seen. I don’t want you laying down any cover. You just use the distraction and get Marlena and the kids out of here. Head down the gulch and go south. It’s 20, 30 miles of rough going, but eventually, you’ll hit highway 81. Understand?”

Bolan hesitated, managing to convey his discomfort even in the darkness. “Sir, there’s no way you can carry him out of here all by yourself. I mean, even if you get him up, you aren’t going to be moving fast. You’ll be an easy target out in the middle of this field. Patrick can lead them out. I should stay back with you. You’ll need the help with Mr. Dimera.”

John smiled grimly. “My wife is the only person who gets to question my orders, Bolen. You should know better than to try. You are the most experienced man I have and I want you with my family. Now, you head for that treeline and I don’t want you waiting for me to show up. If it goes bad, get them out of here. And Bolan, know that if you get them hurt, I will take you apart one piece at a time. Got it?”

Bolan fought down the urge to swallow. “Yes sir, I got it.”

As the dark figures quickly faded from view, John sank to the ground to listen and wait, his last glimpse of her face, pale in the moonlight, playing through his tired mind.

He curled into a tight ball, ignoring the damp ground that sucked the warmth from his bones. The adrenalin that had been keeping him on his feet now set his limbs to quivering. Exhausted, he wrapped his arms around his legs and tried to figure out how he was going to get Dimera out. As the sounds of the woods drifted about him, his head started to nod. The muffled crunch of grass jolted him back to watchfulness and he sensed a body gliding past him in the still night. He should take the man out, one less pursuer in the wake of those he loved. As he tried to gather his feet beneath him, he realized that the man was not alone. Slumping silently back down, John held his breath and waited for the sounds to fade. The quiet of the night once more descended, and if was going to stand a chance, he had to move now. With an inaudible groan, he bent beside Dimera’s heavy body and pulled the man’s arms over his shoulders. Dropping to all fours, he shifted until he carried the weight across his back. Keeping his belly low to the ground, he started crawling across the dark field. There was no way in hell this was going to work, but it might buy Marlena a chance. That was reason enough to give it a try.

John crawled until he couldn’t go any further and then he kept on going. The field seemed to stretch for miles and he had to fight with aching ribs in an effort to draw air into his lungs. White lights danced before his eyes and he collapsed face down in the dirt. He no longer knew why he was doing it, he only knew that he couldn’t stop. Not when he was this close to his goal. They would have been gone for an hour at least. Even if he made it to the trees, he’d never catch up to them in the dark. Then again, he’d never had any intention of catching up. It was the only reason he had chosen to stay with Dimera. The only reason that he had sent them off without him. Stefano had been right about the target of the attacks. Their attention had been on John all along. If they wanted him, they could have him. His life was a small price to pay for his family’s safety.

Recognizing the futility of the action, he clawed his way back to his knees and struggled to cover the last 20 feet that separated him from the drooping branches of the big tree. Stefano moaned, but John didn’t bother trying to quiet him. If his cries brought the guards, it would simply end this misery a little sooner than he had planned. He wanted to make the treeline. Wanted to hide the heavy body in the woods and give the old man at least a fighting chance at survival. But if it didn’t happen… Well they had both pushed their luck further than any man had a right to. There would be no room for complaint.

When he heard the sound of movement coming toward him from the very destination he had been seeking, John almost laughed aloud. The wildness washed over him and he let Dimera’s body to slip from its perch. With a wicked grin on his face, he climbed to his feet. The pain and fatigue fell away, death a familiar adversary. He’d take first blood and then he’d leave a legacy of death in this damned field. It was the only epitaph he deserved. 

-----

The ghostly figure lurked at the edge of the woods and John’s finger tightened on the trigger. When her voice whispered to him on the wind, he felt as if he had been kicked in the gut.

“John? John, is it you?”

The blood drained from his face and he took a hasty step forward to find her in his arms. “God, Doc, no! You shouldn’t be here. You should be gone,” he moaned, the words catching in his throat.





“We weren’t leaving without you, John. You should now that by now,” she whispered angrily, wrapping her arms around him as if she never planned to let go. She had suspected that he had no intention of following them. She had known he would not put them in the hands of a stranger if he had intended to go with them. She would not allow him to throw his life away for her. Not now, not ever.

He felt the steel in her grip and knew that argument was pointless. His guts twisting in fear, he pushed her back into the cover of the trees. As Bolan came up to him, he didn’t even bother cursing the man. “Dimera’s a few feet out. You and Patrick go get him. I’m going to lead the way out.”

John’s voice was hard and ugly, and the two guards didn’t stop to argue. Holding Marlena’s hand in his own, he silently led the small band into the cover of the woods. He only prayed that they had not wasted too much time waiting.

To John’s ears, they sounded like a herd of elephants trampling through the dense brush. The woods were starting to lighten with the coming of the dawn, and while it would make their passage easier, he wished that the cover of darkness had lasted just a little bit longer. There was no way they were going to make it to the destination he had in mind without being spotted. There were too many pursuers. There was too much noise. He was going to get them all killed out here in the quite solitude of the wilderness and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to prevent it. This was what he had always feared. This was what he had known would happen. His final gift to her would be her death.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, he fought down the urge to speed their pace beyond that of a slow crawl. Silence was still their best hope. There had to be mercenaries combing the woods that flanked the field. If they tried to move any faster, the noise was certain to draw attention. As he slipped beneath the rotting hulk of a fallen tree, a muffled sob halted him in his tracks.

John crouched beneath the massive log, resting his hand on the velvety moss that encased it, and looked back on the ragged band that followed him. They stumbled through the silvery fog that clung to the damp forest floor. Eric’s eyes gleamed a soft blue, the only spot of color in a landscape painted in shades of gray. Sami and Carrie trailed close behind, Sami seeming to draw strength from her older sister through the hand she held firmly in her grip. He had known before he saw her tear stained face that it was his little girl’s cry that had brought him to a halt.

As they paused for rest, Sami sank to the ground and tried to hold back a sniffle of pain. Ghostly pale, she seemed to be at one with the mist that surrounded her. The only sign that she was not a spirit from his past was the red of the blood that trailed down her cheek. Easing down beside her, John wrapped his arms around her shivering frame and pulled her close.

“Sami, it will be okay. I will get you out of here. All of you. I promise.” The words sounded hollow in his own ears and he didn’t know why she should believe him. It was a lie, and he knew it.

She tilted her head up to meet his eyes, her long blond hair running over the back of his hand like the softest of silk. “I know you will, Daddy,” she replied, her pale eyes without guile, without doubt. It was the same look she had had the first time he had held her, when she was still a baby and he and her mother her whole world. He’d be damned if he’d let her down.

An icy clarity descended and he dabbed at the bloody cut on her cheek. “I want you to stay here, Sami. Stay here with your mother and I will be right back. Okay?”

Mutely, she nodded, her eyes never leaving his face. Leaning forward, he placed a light kiss on the top of her head.

“Stay here and catch your breath,” he called to Bolan. “Be ready to move quickly when I get back.” Dropping his pack, John propped his machine gun a tree and scouted the terrain ahead. Scouts were out looking for them, he just needed to find them fist. As he stalked past Eric, the boy fell into step behind him and John came to a sudden halt.

“Eric, I need you to stay here. I’ll be back in a minute and we are going to have to move out quickly when I’m done,” he said tightly, the urge to hurry becoming undeniable.

“Dad, I want to come. You need another pair of eyes. I can be quiet, I promise.”

“I don’t have time to argue. You stay here,” John hissed, his mind already on the task at hand. Abruptly, he turned and began weaving his way through the trunks of the trees, leaving the boy standing in his wake.

He snaked silently through the brush, making good time now that he was alone. If he couldn’t slip his family past the soldiers that lurked in the woods, the next best option was to remove the soldiers. They had to be spread thinly in order to cover the territory. One or two men at most stood between his family and temporary safety. All John had to do was find those men. The last thing they would be expecting was for him to attack.

The woods themselves were silent, as if threatened by the presence of so many humans. The lone voice of an owl echoed oddly, its call muffled and warped by the thick air that swirled tendrils of fog about the boles of barren trees. His senses stretched to pick up the slightest sign of his enemy, he seemed to test the wind itself for a scent of his prey. The angry chatter of a squirrel, and he slid his knife from the sheath at his waist. The darkened blade swallowed the light around it, a deadly shadow with a razor’s edge. His breathing deep and steady, John drifted across the carpet of wet leaves, moving toward the sound of the agitated animal. From deep within a thick tangle of briars he glimpsed a flash of movement and dropped soundlessly to lie behind the trunk of a thick maple. With only the slightest crackle of branches to serve as a warning, a heavy body burst from the thicket and thundered directly toward him. His pistol was half out of its holster before his mind registered his attacker as a white-tailed deer. The big doe stampeded by him so close he could almost touch her and then disappeared as swiftly as she had come.

John hugged his body to the cold damp earth, not risking a peek around the tree-trunk. If the doe had left her refuge so suddenly, it was only because something had disturbed her. Someone was hiding in that thicket. Someone was waiting for him. The only question now was whether they had seen him. If they had seen him, they would call for help. That, he could not allow.





Gingerly, he eased himself backward, slithering on his belly across the wet earth. When the thicket was completely obscured by the dense brush around him, he slipped cautiously to his feet. With practiced care, he circled his target. Using the cover offered by the rugged land, he edged ever closer to the tangled brambles. A faint game trail that led into the shelter of the thicket and he paused across from the entrance. For long moments, he stood and watched. Unmoving, his camouflaged form blending into the woods around him, he patiently waited for his enemy to reveal himself. Finally, he saw it. A glint of light off of metal, the betraying wink of a surface far too smooth to belong in this primal place. Staring past the slight imperfection in an otherwise flawless ambush, John slowly began to make-out the features of the man he stalked. Small pieces, here and there. The square form of a shoulder. The rounded curve of a helmet. The man was facing away from him, scanning the woods to the west. The man had guessed wrong and it would cost him dearly.

Leaving his pistol snug in its holster, John held his knife low and crept toward his target. Bending almost double, he halted before the narrow passage between the thick mats of sticker bushes. He couldn’t sneak through without alerting the scout, which meant that speed alone would have to be enough. The sound of a single shot would spell disaster.

The snap of a branch echoed like a shotgun blast, and for a split second John thought the target had opened fire. He surged through the narrow opening, hoping to at least take his enemy with him when he died. His left hand clamped firmly over the man’s mouth before he realized that not a shot had been fired.

The man in his grip was strong and fast, his elbow slamming into John’s side even as the knife bit deep into his throat. The sharp blow opened up the stitches in his side and John winced at the pain, his quarry slipping from his grasp. The man stumbled away from him, one hand going to the gaping hole in his neck while the other tried to bring the rifle to bare. Lunging after him, John took him to the ground with a flying tackle, the gun tangling uselessly between the heavy bodies of the fighting men. Sharp thorns tore at the thin skin of the human predators, long vines impeding their movements. Only the muffled grunts of the combatants broke the stillness as the forest seemed to hold its breath. A sharp cry of pain rang out and the stillness of death descended.





Slowly, John crawled to his feet. With a low hiss of pain, he bent to retrieve his knife, bracing a foot against the body in order to pry the knife from between the ribs. With an ugly screech, he pulled it free. It had taken a deep thrust to reach the heart from that angle. A sloppy kill. Almost angrily, he stooped to wipe the blade against the jacket of the dead man. Too damn much blood all over the place, he noted in irritation. With a small sigh, he straightened and moved to sheath his knife. It was then that he noticed the source of the broken branch.

Eric stared at him, eyes round with shock. He had never seen anything like this. Never imagined anything like it. John looked down on him with the eyes of a stranger, his knife held in a hand still stained red with blood, a dead man laying sightless at his feet. All of the air seemed to leave the young man’s body, and it was as if he were watching the entire scene from somewhere outside himself. Somewhere far away from the reality of the blood soaked earth.. Eric fell to his knees as his stomach emptied itself onto the forest floor. He couldn’t breathe through the heaves that shook his frame, and for a moment he thought he was going to die. Then he felt the grip of a strong arm, the reassuring contact of a warm hand, rubbing gently at his back. As his father’s whispered voice washed over him, he drew in a shuddering gasp of air that quickly turned to a sob.

“Eric. Eric, go easy. Just relax. It will be alright. Just breathe,” John whispered, holding the shaking boy in his arms. Silently, he damned himself for his carelessness, his inattention. He should have known Eric would follow him. If he had been listening, he would have heard it in the boy’s voice. To have his son see him for what he was…

“I’m sorry,” Eric gasped. “I didn’t think… I didn’t know you were going to...”

“Shh. It’s okay, Eric. You didn’t do anything wrong. This isn’t your fault,” John soothed.

Finally, his breathing began to ease and he pulled away. Embarrassed, Eric stumbled to his feet. Trying to gain some sense of normalcy, he dashed away the tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” Eric repeated in a whisper, his eyes refusing to meet John’s own. “I don’t know why I freaked out like that. I just wasn’t expecting anything like… that.”

John nodded, searching for words that would ease the fear he heard in his son’s voice. “It’s ugly. You shouldn’t have had to see it, Eric. I’m sorry that you did.”

Unconsciously, the boy rubbed his hands together. “Ugly,” he muttered, nodding almost absently. “Did Stefano teach you to do that? Did he teach you to kill people?”

With a small sigh, John struggled to his feet, his hand going to his damaged side. “No. No, Stefano didn’t teach me to kill. He simply taught me to do it well.”





Startled by the answer, Eric looked up at him. “You’ve done it before, haven’t you? You’ve done it lots of times before?”

“Lots of times,” John replied with a nod, his hand going to rest against the butt of his gun as blurred memories whipped through his mind. With a slight shrug of his shoulders, he dismissed the past. “It’s what I did, Eric. It’s what I was before I met your mother.”

“I’m sorry,” Eric repeated, and this time, John could hear no fear in the words. No fear. Only pity.

John studied the clear sky, the morning sun already burning away the last of the fog. Looking down the steep ravine, he knew that they would be fully exposed to view for last hundred yards of the hike to the cave he planned to hold-up in during the light of day. They had made good time through the woods, the need for silence eliminated with the death of the perimeter guard. It still hadn’t been enough. Their last sprint to safety would have to be made without the benefit of cover.

There was nothing to be done about it now, and he focused on getting them safely down to the valley floor. The fallen leaves were slick with dew, and he was forced to grab at the saplings around him with both hands in order to keep his feet. He could not quite hide the hiss of pain as the movement pulled again at the ripped stitches in his side. The warm trickle of blood had already told him that the stitches had given way hours earlier.

Keeping his face neutral, he reached a hand up and helped Marlena over the lip of the drop-off. Despite his anger at her stubbornness, he still couldn’t help but smile at her touch. Even tired and dirty, she was the best looking thing he had ever seen. He knew she had read his thoughts by the sly grin she shot him as she went past him. Damn! He just couldn’t stay mad at the woman.

Marlena picked her way carefully down the steep incline, grasping at the trunks of trees to keep her balance. Fighting not to pick-up so much speed that she had no control at all, she still felt like she was careening down the hill. As she finally made the valley, she pulled herself to a gasping halt and looked back up the mountain. The children were rapidly making their way to her. Wet, tired, and shivering with the cold, they were a bedraggled bunch. Eric looked down and caught her eye, flashing her a tight smile and she sighed with relief that so far they seemed to be taking it all in stride.





At the very top of the hill, John and Bolan were trying to juggle Dimera’s limp body between them. Slipping and sliding under the load, they crashed through the bushes on their knees as often as on their feet. As Carrie stumbled to a stop beside her, she turned her attention to getting her children safely out of sight.

Gently, John slid his jacket under Stefano’s head, relieved to find that the bleeding had stopped. The old man moaned softly as John pulled a wool blanket from one of the packs and settled it over him. John looked up in surprise as Marlena crouched down on the opposite side of the body.

“Didn’t think you’d want to even touch him,” he commented, watching her with curiosity.

“I can’t very well let him bleed to death,” she replied matter-of-factly, peeling the field-dressing away from Dimera’s forehead.

Sitting back on his heels, John watched as she efficiently stripped the bandages and rummaged through the first aid kit.

“What?” she asked, glancing over at him.

“Nothing. You just never fail to surprise me, that’s all.”

“Me? I’m just putting on a band-aid. You’re the one who was willing to risk his life for Dimera!”

“I didn’t do that for him, I did it to protect you! You should never have waited for me, Marlena. If they had caught me in that field, you and the kids would be free and clear by now!” he shot back, his anger flaring.

Damn! Her presence a constant reminder of his failures, he had to escape from her. “Do what you can for him. I’m going to relieve Bolan,” he said coldly, stalking toward the long corridor that led to the cave entrance.

Marlena crept through the narrow passage to where John stood leaning against the rock wall, peering out at their surroundings. He had chopped down a small bush and wedged it in the narrow crevice that marked the cave’s entrance. Unless you were right on top of it, you would never even know the cave was there.

“Do you think anyone saw us?” she asked, watching his face closely.

His eyes fixed on the surrounding woods, he gave a brief shake of his dark head. “No. No, I don’t see anyone. I think we’re okay for the moment.”

He was still mad, she could see it in the clenched muscles of his jaw. Trying to break him from his self-imposed isolation, she asked, “What happened with you and Eric? He was very quiet when you returned from your scouting party.”

For a long moment, he continued to gaze out across the clearing. When he turned to face her, his eyes were emotionless voids, purposely shutting her out. “He watched me kill a man. He was somewhere he never should have been, and that was the price he paid.”





His anger was a palpable force and she refused to allow it to stand between them. Knowing he didn’t want to broach the subject, she asked anyway. “Are you mad at me?”

He sighed out an ugly chuckle at the understatement. “I am furious with you!”

Though she had known the answer to her question before she asked it, his response goaded her. All of the past hours of worry and frustration had built up to this point, and the emotion exploded out of her with a force that surprised her. She grabbed his arm and yanked him toward her. Separated by mere inches, he looked into her face and saw the fire in her eyes.

“Well welcome to the club!” she hissed. “How do you think I felt when I realized that you were going to stay behind and draw those men away? How do you think I felt when I knew that you planned to buy our chance at escape with your own life?!”

Her fury stopped him cold. He couldn’t fight with her. He could never fight with her. This was simply too much for him to take. Putting on an innocent look, he stared into those amber eyes and said sarcastically, “I thought you would feel really proud of my manly bravery.”

He didn’t know what he had expected her to say in the face of the lame attempt at humor, but he sure hadn’t expected her to hit him. He doubled over in surprise as the blow took him right in the ribs. He crashed down into her, knocking them both against the wall of the cave. Despite everything that was happening, he could not hold back the tears of laughter. “I cannot believe you hit me! I have never, ever seen you hit anybody! You actually hit me!”

Dumbstruck by her own actions, she stared into his smiling face. She couldn’t believe she had done it either. But his, his stubbornness had driven her past the point of rational thought. And she had hit him. Suddenly remembering what had made her so angry in the first place, she reached both hands up to grasp him firmly behind his neck.

“John Black, if you ever try something like that again, I will hit you somewhere that won’t have you laughing. You got me!? A marriage is a partnership. If you think that by letting yourself get killed or captured it somehow saves me from hurt, you had better think again, buddy!”

“Doc, we aren’t married,” he said, his face going hard. “The only vow I have made is to keep you safe. If I can be with you, I will. But if not, so be it. I will never take a vow that keeps me from protecting you with every skill I have. And in the end, if I die fighting for you, I will die happy.”

“That would not make me happy, John. Don’t you see that?” she shot back, tears of frustration springing to her eyes.

“Maybe not. But it will make you alive and I will settle for that.”

“I won’t settle for that, John. I will never settle for a life without you. Not again,” she muttered with fierce determination.

She pulled him down to her with a strength he couldn’t resist. He tried to keep his body stiff, tried to keep the space between them that would allow him room to think. But as her lips met his, legs moved forward with a will of their own and he melded his body to hers in a quiet desperation unlike anything he had ever known. God, she made him weak.





Marlena was senseless at his touch. Blind to everything around her but the heat of his body, she ran her hands down his sides and tried to pull him even tighter against her. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, and tore at the clothes that kept him from her. He gasped out, his groan a mingling of pain and pleasure so entwined as to be indistinguishable.

As she scrapped her nails against his bare skin, he growled deep in his throat. Surging forward, he slammed her up against the wall, her feet leaving the ground. Her back was pressed firmly against the rough rock walls and her long legs moved to clench around his waist. He propped his hands beneath her, held her firmly above him. He looked up at her, pupils dilated so that only the barest gleam of blue encircled the black. “Don’t stop, Doc. Please don’t stop,” he panted out in a guttural tone, his lips drawn back in a snarl of need and desire.

She had no intention of stopping and brought her fingers up to trace the line of his lips. It was then that she noticed the blood. Her hand dripped crimson drops, the metallic smell of copper in the air. Suddenly scared, she looked down into his eyes. The eyes were wild, and at the sign of the blood on her hands, he merely grinned a predatory smile. “It’s okay, Doc,” he whispered, as he wrapped a hand in her hair and pulled her lips down to meet his.

Frightened, she pushed against him, aware enough to know that something was wrong. “John, no,” she said, tearing her lips from his as her mind began to clear.

“Yes,” he grunted, crushing her against the wall with enough force to knock the air from her lungs.

The impact of it stunned her, and she knew she couldn’t fight him. Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, she whispered into his ear. “John, stop. Please.”

He froze, and for a long moment she simply held him tight. Finally, she let her long legs unwrap themselves and sink back down to the reality of the dirt. Shaking with the aftershocks, she stood with her body pressed against his.

“I’m sorry, Doc. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispered, hanging his head over her shoulder and trying to stop the shuddering in his body.

“Baby, you didn’t hurt me. You could never hurt me. It’s okay,” she gentled, running her fingers in easy circles over the broad expanse of his back.

His breath came out in sharp gasping sobs that were painful to hear, and she simply stood and held him until his breathing finally eased. “Are you okay?”

“Yea,” he whispered back.

Drawing her head back, she waited for him to meet her eyes. “Do you want to tell me about the blood?”.

He gave a slight shrug and stepped away from her. “I got cut in a car accident. It’s no big deal, Doc.”

She reached out to take his hand, knowing that he could not deny her when he was close to her. “John, let me look at it. At least let’s stop the bleeding, okay. That only makes sense, right?

“Doc, not now. Later, okay. I’ve got something I need to do,” he said, pulling away from her.

“John, it can wait,” she replied, no longer willing to take ‘no’ for an answer.

His grim chuckle was not the response she had expected. “Marlena, I need to lay a false trail. It’s daylight. The men after us can track our passage through the forest. There was just no way I could cover our trail last night. That means I need to lay a false trail for them to follow. I need to lead them down the valley and away from the cave. I can use the blood to do it.”

“No!” she said, her surprise showing in her voice. “No, you aren’t going to do that. Someone else can go. You are staying here.”

“Marlena, no one else can do this. Patrick and Bolan are decent soldiers, but they aren’t woodsmen. They don’t know what they are doing. I will lay down a trail and be back within the hour. It’s the only way,” he said softly, knowing that she would not accept it.

“I don’t care! You aren’t going. You’re, you’re hurt. You can’t go,” she stammered, looking at him with wide eyes. “You can’t go.”

With a small smile on his face, he reached out to run a finger along the smooth skin of her cheek. “Yea, Doc. I can.”

Silently he moved through the dense underbrush, working his way back up the small creek bed. The tracks would lead the hunters here and then disappear into the muddy water. It would be impossible to guess where they might be. Even if the soldiers decided to backtrail, there was no way they would be able to tell where their quarry had split off after the passage of so many bodies through the woods. With a tired sigh, he turned to make his way carefully back to the cave, his ears perking up at a distant noise. Freezing in place, he waiting for the sound to clarify itself.

His mind identified the rotors tearing at the air just before the chopper swung over his head on a direct course for the cave. With a silent curse, he sprinted into the thick underbrush. Heedless of the branches that clawed at him, he crashed through the woods at a dead run, pushing his body to cover the more than two miles of rough terrain before the chopper could land. It was a hopeless race, but he clung to the knowledge that Patrick and Bolen could hold the cave almost indefinitely, no matter the forces arrayed against them. The entrance was too narrow to be rushed and the rock walls would provide more than enough cover for two men with automatics to hold off an army. John would arrive in time to take his enemy from behind. With luck, he would fly them all out in the chopper. His plan of attack already sketched out, he topped the last rise just in time to see the chopper taking off into the morning sky.

Standing at the top of a steep hill, he watched as the helicopter slipped away. Knowing that she was on it. Feeling it in his gut, as the icy fear clamped down on his soul. He thought he would break then, shatter into a million tiny pieces, jagged shards that would rip through the core of the world, destroying everything in their wake.

Silence fell across the meadow like a shroud as the sound of the rotors slowly faded. The echoes of her passage mocked him, shouting her loss to the mountains themselves. He filled his lungs to scream his rage, a cry of war to summon his executioners. The sound of voices drifted up to him from the valley floor and he let his breath escape in a silent hiss. Released the fire of the rage, and let the cold empty peace that was death take its place. With an almost feral tilt of his head, he crouched and focused on his prey.

“Dammit, this was not my fault!” Bolen snapped, his voice carrying easily to John’s ear. “It’s not like I had any way to signal you. All I had was the damned tracker. It isn’t my fault you guys showed up while Black was off in the woods!”

“Did it not occur to you to hold the man at gunpoint and simply wait for us to follow the bug?” a man in fatigues shot back in irritation.

“Hey, I contracted with you guys to identify the location of the compound. Hell, I even agreed to stick close to Black and wear a homing bug. I did not agree to commit suicide for you! If you want John Black so badly, you go get him. I fulfilled my end of the deal, and I expect my payment.”

“Fine.” With a gesture, the senior officer motioned a man forward. Digging into the back of a small pack, he pulled out a square pouch. “Enjoy it,” he said, his voice indicating his disdain. Tossing the pile of bills to Bolan, he gestured at a bound figure slouched beneath the trees. “What are you planning on doing with your buddy over there, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Bolen looked up, startled by the question. “Hell, he’s your prisoner. You can do whatever you want with him.”

“We don’t care about the hired help, Mr. Bolen. As far as we are concerned, he is free to go. Now you, on the other hand… I would think you would be worried that it will get out that you betrayed Stefano Dimera. But, like I said, it’s not our problem.” With a formal nod, the soldier turned away and began walking to the south.

From his perch in the thick underbrush, John observed with interest as Bolen looked over at Patrick. Even from a distance, John could see the fear on Patrick’s face. Bolen drew his sidearm, took a step in Patrick’s direction. A sharp report rang out and Patrick was dead. Without glancing at the body at his feet, Bolan turned to trot after the man in fatigues.

“How are we evac’ing, anyway?” he asked anxiously, as the men strode down the center of the narrow valley. They passed directly in front of where John crouched, lost in the shadows. Ignoring the temptation to simply shoot them all down now, he instead watched and listened.

“Who said we’re evacuating?” the senior mercenary replied with barely concealed loathing. “Our main target is John Black. We get the big money when we get him. He can’t be too far, even if the sound of the chopper scared him off. We’re here to hunt him down. You, you’re on your own.”

John slipped silently through the woods, secure within their shadows. He followed Bolen by the sounds of the leaves crushing beneath his feet, the branches slapping at his skin. The man was panicking. Left in the woods on his own, imagined enemies at every turn, he had completely forgotten his training. Around every bush, he expected to find John, waiting to leap at him from the dark places. It made him rush. It made him careless. And when John did finally slip from the shadows to loop a thick arm around his neck, it made him dead.

The voice promised pain, and Bolen groaned into his gag as he came around. He found himself stretched awkwardly against a stout old tree. His hands were firmly tied behind him, looped together around the trunk of the tree. He was held upright by another restraint around his neck. The cords around his neck were tied to a high branch, and he had to stand tall to keep from choking. As full consciousness returned, he became aware of the chill of the fall air on his skin, and realized that his shirt and jacket had been used to tie him in place. Stretched out half-naked against the tree, he felt completely vulnerable. When he looked over into John’s face, he prayed for the first time in years.

“Ah… You finally awake, Bolen?” John’s whispered words carried a knife edge. He circled slowly, soundlessly, in front of the bound man. Reaching out, he took the man’s belt in his hands. “You sold me out, didn’t you Bolen,” the quiet voice taunted. “You know what I am going to do to you for that? You’re lucky, Bolen. I’m only going to kill you for that.”

Slowly, John tugged the thick leather belt from the man’s waist. When he grabbed the man’s fly and tugged the pants down to his knees, Bolen’s legs began to buckle. “Oh no, Bolen. I’m not going to let you strangle yourself now,” he said, his grim chuckle drifting through the air. Pushing the suddenly sweating body firmly against the tree, he leaned forward and put his lips inches from Bolen’s ear. “You betrayed me, and I am going to kill you. But for what you did to the woman I love… Bolan, I am going to gut you for that,” he murmured softly.

He trailed the razor sharp blade of his knife along the bottom swell of the man’s stomach, and couldn’t help grimacing as the man’s body voided itself in its panic. When the frantic cries began to leak past the gag to the point of irritation, John slammed a hard fist into the man’s throat. Not enough to kill him, but enough to shut him up for the moment.

“Shut the fuck up, you coward. You want to save yourself a world of pain, you will listen to me Bolan. I am only going to give you one chance. Now, you tell me what I want to know, and I will kill you quick. Do you understand me? ‘Cause if you piss me off, I am going to slice you open and let you hang here watching you intestines ooze down to your knees. Do we understand each other?” he said, his voice cold as he studied Bolen’s eyes with almost clinical detachment.

At the other man’s frantic nod of agreement, an ugly smile passed over John’s face. “I thought we could come to an understanding,” he said encouragingly. “Now, I want you to whisper it to me. I want to know the name of the man who hired you. I want to know the names of the men you worked with. You will whisper this to me when I take the gag out, or I will show you a vision of hell that would make the devil envious. Do you understand?” he asked again, already moving to take the gag from Bolen’s mouth.

The man was so afraid, he didn’t even try to call out. His whispered words rushed out as if the confession could buy his redemption. The ISA hit squad, turned independents and out to the highest bidder. The call in the night, and the obscene amount of money if he would do just one little thing. Give one little bit of information. And finally, the name. The name of the man who had set the price for the capture of John Black. The name of the man who took Marlena. Alamain. It was all that John needed to know.

He looked with disgust at the blubbering form of the man who sagged against the tree, pleading for mercy. Begging for pity. John leaned in to slip the gag back into place before the sound of it made him sick. He stood staring at the man for a long moment, waiting until he again had his full attention. Finally, he stepped forward.

Almost like a lover, he tucked his left hand behind Bolan’s thick neck and leaned across the tight stretched body. He whispered the soft words into the man’s ear, close enough that his breath caressed the sensitive skin on its passing. “I lied, Bolan. Welcome to Hell,” the words said as he slipped the knife into the soft flesh of the abdomen and sliced open the muscle and skin. Stepping back a pace, John looked calmly into the eyes of the sobbing man. As he sank against the bonds at his neck, he began choking for air and John reached around to cut the restraint away. As his head came forward, John could make out his shrieks of pain, even through the muffle of the gag. His face was expressionless as he commented softly, “I hope it takes you hours to die.”

John slipped away into the cover of the trees, never to realize what a disappointment Bolan was. The man hadn’t lasted the hour.

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