After the Fall
Chapter Six
part one
Early on,
whenever he heard Marlena say that the accident wasn't John's fault, Abe
recalled a confrontation he'd with the man at a local bar, one John wouldn't
normally have frequented. Abe only knew he was there because the bartender, who
was a former cop and knew both men, sensed trouble brewing and called him. The
incident took place a few weeks prior to the fatal car accident involving his
best friend's black Jeep Grand Cherokee and a white Toyota Camry bearing a
family of four, all of whom were killed.
Sitting
at his desk, thinking about what he'd seen and heard of Marlena's time with
John a short while ago in the holding cell, the memory returned.
"Hey..Abe.. I'm glad you're here.... meet my
new bessh friend... Hissh name's Jose...." John managed to say in slurred
speech, holding up the bottle of Tequila he'd somehow gotten a hold of when the
barkeep was a few feet away from him, serving another patron..
'This is
pathetic!' Heaving a battle weary sigh, Abe
Carver managed to hoist his friend off the bar stool and essentially drag him
out the door and toward his vehicle. "John... you have to stop this....
you must know that."
Suddenly, the pleasant drunk was angry, his eyes
full of fire, as he yanked himself out the other man's grasp. " No I
don't... I don't HAVE to do anything! I'm alone now, remember... no wife, no
kids to raise, and I'm filthy rich. I can do whatever the HELL I want,
partner!"
"Fine... you want to destroy your life, you go
right ahead, but I'll be damned if I let you take someone else with you. I'm
taking you home, John, no arguments or I'll have you arrested."
"For what?" he said, his tone daring the
man to do it.
"Oh, let's see, drunk and disorderly for
starters. I'll think of some others, enough to keep you locked up for the night
anyway.. Don't push me, John."
His blue eyes turned to ice, but he relented, like
maybe he suddenly felt lost and in need of a helping hand. He said nothing and went along for the ride, thankful later on that he
hadn't gotten sick in his buddy's car.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thinking
back on it, it was almost like John was saying, 'What the hell do I care? Do whatever you want with me. I don't have a
home anymore. And a lonely hotel room is a very poor substitute.'
Hard as
he tried, Abe couldn't get that night out of his mind. He had taken his friend
home and settled him into his room at the Salem Inn. Abe couldn't help but
wonder. If he hadn't showed up, would John have driven in that condition? And
was the conversation he'd had with the man he'd known for fifteen years, or was
it the mercenary persona he was talking to that night ? And if so, how should
the law look upon the tragic incident? Was John responsible and should he be
held fully accountable for the actions of his alter ego, or should he be given
the psychiatric help Marlena so strongly believed he needed?
Sooner
or later, Abe knew he was going to end up with a subpoena, and each time he
thought about testifying against John in a court of law, he felt the bile rise
up in his gut. How he could ever be forced to play an integral role in sending
one of his best friends to prison was beyond his ability to comprehend.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His
breathing was increasingly rapid and shallow, and no matter how hard he tried
to slow it, he couldn't. The mercenary was preparing for a fight and there was
nothing he could do about it. John felt himself slipping away, his shaking
hands the only evidence of his continued efforts to stop what was essentially
inevitable.
There
was something strange in the air, a kind of kinetic electricity. The two
officers just new this guy was going to go off on them. His eyes were shut and
his hands, balled into tight fists, trembled at his sides. They'd heard stories
about him, how he could suddenly change and become this adrenaline fueled
fighting machine. Before they could scream for help, it happened.
He was
all over them, fists flying, swear words their only response as they tried to
fight him off and regain control over the situation. They yelled and help
arrived, but not until all three of them were battered and bloody. It took five
more men to subdue John and get him into the cuffs and leg irons.
There
was a distinct moment during the struggle in which he stopped flailing and appeared
to have some recognition of what he was doing. Then his eyes rolled back in his
head and he wavered, his eyelids fluttering wildly. To those who'd seen one
before, it looked like he was having some kind of seizure and it was fairly
clear that he posed no further threat at the time. Nevertheless, still wary of
him and respectful of his physical prowess, they stood back and watched the
scene unfold.
Shortly
thereafter, the man collapsed and fell to the floor. Even seeing that the
prisoner was near unconsciousness at that point, they approached him
cautiously. Four men lifted and set him on the cot, and they locked the cell,
planning to have a physician check him out as soon as possible. A psychiatrist
was also to be consulted. It was fairly obvious that something serious was
going on with the man, something beyond the ordinary.
Roman
came in a few seconds before the bizarre episode. He stared at the man in the
cell for the longest time after the collapse, and then finally shared his
conclusion about what he'd witnessed. "Abe, that's the same look, I'd
swear to it! That was almost *exactly* what happened that night after the brawl
at Tuscany. His head went back and he was just staring blankly at the sky like
he had no idea what was going on around him. When he looked back at us, he
seemed confused and he almost collapsed. I think he would have if we hadn't
slapped the restraints on him so quickly and hustled him inside. I don't think
he can control it, Abe. I'd say it was the mercenary who tried to escape, not
John."
All Abe
Carver could do for the moment was sigh wearily and nod his head in agreement
as he watched the others tending to his friend's wounds. He hated to face the
reality of the situation, that John was engaged in a losing battle for control
of his mind, with some kind of fighting, killing machine created by Stefano
Dimera.
They
ended up calling for paramedics, as one of the officers needed to go into the
hospital. No sense taking any chances. John was bruised up, pretty much all
over his body, one eye nearly swollen shut, but no one was about to suggest
they try to force him into an ambulance. The paramedics patched him up and the
doctors would see him later. A trip to the hospital, if deemed necessary, would
come when they were sure he was calm enough to go willingly.
As he
laid there, fading in and out of consciousness, he was vaguely aware that his
best friend was nearby. "John... can you hear me?"
No
response. "John, it's Abe, we're trying to figure out what's happening
with you. Can you talk to me?" he asked, placing his hands on John's
shoulders, his touch light and reassuring.
His
eyes opened, not wide, but enough that they could see some level of
recognition. His lips moved but no sound came out. John seemed confused, almost
bewildered to be looking up at them.
"Do
you remember anything about the past half hour or so, John?"
He
shook his head at first, and then something registered in his brain. His wrists
and ankles were enclosed in bands of metal attached to heavy chains. He tried
to sit up, but pain stopped him and a soft groan escaped his mouth, "Oh,
no...."
Abe
helped him ease himself into a half sitting position, saying quietly,
"Take it easy, buddy..." He waited a moment or two, until he was sure
John was alright physically and alert enough to converse. "Oh no, what,
John?"
"He....
I...." John stopped, shaking his head and breathing hard, as if he didn't
know how to express what he believed had taken place. "We....oh... dammit,
there was a fight, is that... what happened?" he finally managed to say,
obviously very frustrated and struggling to speak to them.
Roman
and Abe exchanged glances, realizing that it seemed Roman was right about what
occurred, then Abe answered his friend, "Yes, there was a terrible fight,
John. You tried to escape. It took more than half a dozen men to subdue
you."
Again,
John shook his head and muttered, "No, it was him....I tried... tried to stop him... but I couldn't... too
strong... he's just too strong now." He sounded so worn out and defeated
it made Abe's heart ache for the other man's suffering. John flopped back on
the pillow and his eyes went shut again.
"John,
we're going to help you. I promise, we understand a lot better now, what you've
been dealing with, and we're going to help you."
"Too
late... it's too late...I'm going to prison...."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Watching
through the two way mirror felt like a not so well justified version of
voyeurism. Marlena hated that he didn't know they were present, watching him
being interviewed. It felt wrong and a wave of nausea worked its way through
her belly as they sat down to observe a portion of the comprehensive
psychiatric evaluation with the independent evaluator Marlena had brought in to
see John.
"Alright
John... now that we've finished up with the basic information about you and
your....situation here, I want you to tell me the truth about something very
important. You said before that you've never been much of a drinker. Why did
you start drinking so heavily this past year?"
"Why
do you think.... to numb the pain of what was happening between us...."
"Between
you and your wife, Marlena..."
John
nodded but didn't look at the other man. He hated having to spell everything out
for the guy, even if he did understand that it was all part of his defense.
"Did
it work?"
"Sometimes...."
"And...
what about other times?"
He
sensed the agitation starting again, the restlessness, and he stood up, feeling
the need to move around. "It didn't... it just made things worse I
guess....I don't know."
"Yes
you do..."
"Look,
what do you want from me?" John said, suddenly angry.
"I
want you to talk to me, so that I can help you, John. I'm convinced that some
of your actions can be explained in a way that could make the court more
sympathetic to your case. Now, how did it make things worse between you?"
Letting
out an exasperated sigh, John gave in, if only to get the danged thing over
with as quickly as possible, "Alright..... she wouldn't see me when I was
drinking, didn't want me around the kids. She said I got mean when I
drank."
"Okay...
and was she right?"
"Yea...
I didn't *want* to treat her badly... I guess it just...affected me more than I
thought it did."
"Alright...so
then you were alone and you drank to numb the pain of the loss. Now, what's the
other reason?"
The
anger flared, but the sadness filtered through, as he paced back and forth
across the room. Like so many men, John Black covered his pain with anger.
Anger felt powerful. "Isn't that good enough... it hurt like *hell* being
apart from her! I loved her, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to get
her back! After awhile... she wouldn't even *talk* to me!"
"I
know that you were hurting... a lot, but don't forget. I've read the files and
I know your history. John, you've been through some *extremely* painful
experiences in your life.... and you've never turned to alcohol before.... why
this time?"
"So
what.... I changed habits... what's the big deal?" he said, discounting
the significance of his choice.
The
psychiatrist observed his patient closely. He was becoming increasingly edgy,
not able to sit in a chair, a sure sign they were hitting on something important.
"Well,
it's just that from talking to you and Marlena, and some of your friends.. I
think maybe there's another reason for your drinking.... one you haven't shared
with me yet."
John
hated being pushed and issued a challenge of his own, "Yea... so you're
the great psychiatrist from DC!" John shouted and stared him down, leaning
over the man and hoping his physical size alone would make the doctor back off,
"You think you know so much about me, about my life..... Why don't you
tell ME!"
Remaining
calm in contrast to his patient's obvious agitation, the Doctor stayed seated
and said quietly, "Because I think you need to hear yourself say it,
John... Why don't you try?"
Clearly
the man wasn't sure if he should take the risk and trust that he would be believed,
let alone hope that the help he so badly needed would follow. He paced and he
sighed, and seemed to search inside himself.
It was
a long wait for both of them, when at last, letting out a long slow breath,
John began to reveal himself,
"Alright... alright... if you have to know... I did it.. because I
thought it would... make HIM go away..."
"Who
John? Who did you want to go away?"
"Him....
you know... the mercenary... Stefano's mercenary... the man that *bastard*
forced me to be! "
"Did
it work, John?"
"Sometimes.....or
I thought so at first, but mostly.... looking back on it... I think it only
made him stronger. "
"Will
you tell me about him?"
Suddenly
and unexpectedly he felt trapped, like he couldn't breath. John started to shut
down again, breathing harshly, shaking his head in sharp movements and sounding
panicked, "No... no, I can't.... I.. I...can't... do that."
Now was
the time to force the issue, and the Doctor raised his voice, "John, if
you don't, you're going to prison on four counts of aggravated vehicular
homicide and that's only one of the charges. In this state, that alone could
mean at *least* ten years in jail. In combination, you could spend somewhere in
the vicinity of twenty years in the Illinois State penitentiary. Is that what
you want, John? Do you *want* to go to prison?"
The man
wasn't even looking at him anymore, leaning as he was against the wall opposite
the two-way mirror in full view of the observers. From the woeful expression on
his face, it was likely John Black was lost in the memories of what he had done
to the family of four who had the misfortune of driving along the same stretch
of highway with him and his Jeep on that fateful night. He was guilt ridden and
probably believed he deserved whatever punishment the state saw fit to dole
out. It was clear to the evaluator that John would have gone down without so
much as a whimper of protest if it weren't for the steadfast faith of his
almost ex-wife, Marlena Evans. Shaking his head as he thought of all that he'd
learned about the relationship and where it had been headed recently, Dr. Joel
Stevenson wished he had a love like that. Thus far, he'd only seen glimpses of
the real John Black and had some sense of what she saw in the man, but
nonetheless, her ongoing loyalty was admirable at the very least.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'Oh, John... all this time.... " Do you see... Abe, Bo,
Roman... do you hear that.... all this time he's been struggling for control,
he's been fighting so hard..."
"Meaning
John doesn't bear any responsibility for what happened... is that what you
really believe, Marlena?" Roman asked, realizing where she was leading
them, and still trying to decide for himself. She was nodding in response and
at the same hoping to hear what else John and her colleague might be saying to
each other.
Bo
Brady chimed in next, "Oh...yes he does! Look, you tried to help him... we
all did, Marlena... but did he listen to us? No... he rejected every one of us
and kept right on drinking. And going back to Dimera, well that was..."
She cut
him off before he could finish the thought, "No, don't you get it, Bo...
it was the mercenary....*he's* the one who rejected our efforts to help him and
our support, not our John, the one we've known all these years."
"No,
I *don't* get it.... it's too damned convenient. I won't let him off the hook
that easily, Marlena! He was driving the Jeep that night and he killed a whole
family. You weren't there, you didn't SEE it! You didn't have to watch them
die, but I did! Influenced by the mercenary or not, John was responsible for
their deaths and he's going to jail. There's nothing you can do to stop it,
Marlena!"
"Oh
yes there is.... I feel... horrible about what happened and if you look at him
closely, so does he, but he wasn't responsible, just like Kim wasn't, Bo. I
have a whole team of attorneys defending him, and we'll prove that what I'm
saying is true. Then he'll get the help he needs to fight the real battle, the
most important one of his life."
Bo did
look, and he could tell that John did feel bad, but that wasn't good enough.
"Fine... you do that, Marlena.. spend his money.... you go ahead and buy
his act... all confused and vulnerable... but I don't. I know the truth and so does
the prosecutor! No matter what he says in there, when this thing goes to trial,
she'll rip him to shreds. And when the smoke clears, he'll be wearing prison
issue for a long time to come. John's finally going to pay for his sins."
Looking
toward Marlena, hoping his support might make a difference in the long run,
Roman turned to his little brother and said, "Come on, Bo, cut him some
slack. You know Marlena has experience with these kinds of situations, you
ought to give John the benefit of the doubt here."
"Oh
man... I can't believe this!" Bo was shaking his head in disgust. What was
his brother doing, still hoping to win brownie points with her!
Abe
Carver had heard enough. Bo was on some sort of vendetta because of the baby,
Roman was coming around but possibly still gunning to get Marlena back when the
dust settled, and John was in deep trouble in every way imaginable. Abe hated
what this was doing to all the people he loved, dividing them, forcing them to
take sides. The deaths were a senseless tragedy and what lay ahead could only
wreak more havoc in the city of Salem. "Stop it, you two.... this isn't
doing anybody any good. We just have to hope that the truth comes out and
justice will prevail."
"Damn
straight it will, Abe.... damn straight!" Bo said as he walked out of the
observation room, wondering how in the world Marlena could still be so
completely fooled by the lying two faced bastard who used to be someone they
all admired and respected. He was in Dimera's camp now, and Bo was finished mourning
his loss. The John Black he once called brother might as well be dead to Bo
Brady, and in his view they all were well rid of him.
No
matter how hard he tried to put it out of his mind, however, Marlena's comment about
Kim got to him. What if whatever was happening to John was a lot like that? No
one who knew her well ever believed that Kim was capable of murder; it was
another personality, formed out of years of sexual abuse. What if the trauma to
John's mind and spirit as a result of Stefano's cruelty had created a
personality in somewhat similar fashion, one that lingered inside him for years
afterward and slowly began to exert an ever increasing influence on John's
behavior. Bo had seen what happened to Hope... so, why couldn't he give John
the benefit of the doubt as his brother suggested? The answer to that question
came to mind instantly. It was about the baby, pure and simple. Could he find a
way to put his feelings about that aside and see the situation in another
light, as Marlena had urged him to do?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After a
long lull in the conversation, in which they sat facing each other in silence,
the psychiatrist moved on to the other reason he had come to see John on this
particular occasion. "John... I'd really like to talk to the mercenary if
that's possible. Can I do that?"
"Sure...
just get me stone drunk... he always come out then," he said with a harsh
laugh. Joel was wondering whether it was a glimpse of the other persona right
there.
"He
does?"
"Yep...
at first... I get a little numb... you know....and I don't feel so confused....
and then... I don't know... I start to get angry and I can feel him. He takes
control then... treats people badly...I.. I hear myself saying things... doing
things that I wouldn't normally do. I want to stop him, but I can't... I can't
stop him!"
"Does
he ever talk to you, John?"
For the
longest time, John said nothing; afraid to admit the truth, afraid it would
make him appear weak or sicker than he wanted to be. Finally beginning to
accept the fact that he desperately needed emotional support and professional
help, John decided that when the man asked him again, he would answer honestly.
"John...
it's not your fault.... you didn't put him there. Stefano Dimera did... and
everybody knows that. Now please... tell me... does he talk to you?"
He
nodded, and when he looked up, there were tears in his eyes. Joel knew it must
be terrifying for a man like this to face the idea in the privacy of his own
mind, let alone admit to being mentally sick. John's voice was shaky, thick
with emotion, "Yes....I I... hear his voice inside my head sometimes. It's
different sounding... you know... he's so.. angry all the time."
"What
does he say to you?"
"He
cuts me down mostly... reminds me of Stefano. He told me he'd make Marlena
leave... and he's always taunting me... telling me I'm worthless... and that he
can.... take over any time he wants."
"Is
it true... can he take control any time, John?"
A
slight shrug was his only answer at first. There was a distance in his blue
eyes, as if he was in a place few other men knew. And then he spoke softly, his
tone belying immense fatigue and uncertainty, "I don't know... lately it
all blends together somehow.... and I get so... tired of dealing with it."
"It
must be exhausting for you, John... constantly fighting to hold onto some sense
of yourself"
He
nodded. "Yea.... it is... It was different when I was with Doc.... that's my
wife, Marlena. It was better then....but I guess you know that's pretty much
over now." He wanted to believe that she still loved him and did for a
short while, but somehow the good feelings faded when she wasn't anywhere near.
Marlena hadn't come to see him since the escape attempt, and it left him to
wonder if maybe she'd changed her mind and decided to go through with the
divorce after all. And maybe that was for the best.
Joel
offered sympathy, "I know.. I'm sorry." He paused for a moment before
continuing, "Tell me how, John... how was it better..?"
"She
uh... she made me want to fight.... to hang on to who I was... she gave me
hope."
"And
now... since you've been apart?"
The man was staring down at his feet, and his
voice was so soft Joel could barely hear him. "Well, mostly... I don't
have any.." He looked and sounded so forlorn, as though he had long ago
given up, unconsciously allowing the mercenary to take control because he
didn't believe he could succeed in the long run. And somewhere along the line
he had fallen under Stefano Dimera's influence again, at which point the
drinking became even heavier.
"So...
he's winning the war, isn't he?"
"Guess
that's so... yea...."
"Who
am I talking to now?" John shrugged, non-committal, fidgeting a bit ,
apparently becoming uncomfortable with the line of questioning.
At this
point in the session, Marlena almost missed a crucial response because the door
to the observation room opened again. She glanced over briefly to see who had
entered and sighed with a trace of relief to see that it was Bo. Perhaps he was
reconsidering his position. Their eyes met, wordlessly acknowledging the
significance of his return, but also noting that they could talk later. Without
saying anything, she turned her attention back to the two men behind the glass.
"I
want to talk to the mercenary, John.... I want to get to know him too. Is that
possible?"
Without
warning, his whole body began to change--his posture, his demeanor, even the
color of his eyes and the timbre of his voice. He was much rougher around the
edges, gruff and hostile, "Yea... I'm here... so what the *hell* do you
want?"
"Are
you in charge most of the time?"
He sat
back in the chair for a moment, nodding his head, and said rather proudly with
a triumphant smirk on his face, "Yep...have been for a long time, but I
can fake him pretty well, when it's to my advantage."
Ignoring
the baiting tag, the doctor continued on his mission to learn all that he could
about the two of them, "And where is John now?"
"He's
all closed up inside where he belongs..... he can't really handle this, you
know."
"He
can't?"
"No...
he wants to be sent to prison, because he feels guilty about what happened to
that family, but it won't go down that way."
"Oh,
and why is that?"
Leaning
forward, the mercenary made his plans known, "Because, when the timing is
right, I'm gonna leave this joint. The other day, when we duked it out with
that bunch of uniforms. That was nothing but a kid's game to me... he didn't
take control, it just wasn't the right time. So, after we all got in a couple
of good shots at each other, I *let* John come out for awhile so they could
make the transfer to the county jail."
This
man was so different from the core personality at this point, totally self absorbed,
completely confident in his own abilities, and absolutely without fear of
reprisal.
He
laughed in an almost sadistic manner, glaring toward the doctor as he
continued, openly scoffing, "Ha, ha... Marlena thinks she's gotten past
me, that he truly *believes* now, and that there's a way to help him. Heh... so
do you, for that matter, but you're both wrong, dead wrong! And when it comes
time for the trial, John won't be there because *I* won't be locked away like
that, not EVER again!" His teeth were clenched when he said the last
phrase, his breathing was forced, and nearly every muscle in his body was taut
with tension. The man looked as though he might explode with violence at the
slightest provocation.
'Wrong Joel, he *is* afraid. He's terrified of being
confined for any length of time. And what's worse, he is utterly without
remorse about what happened. In his eyes, his own needs are paramount.'
Marlena turned back toward her friends, Abe and
Roman, and Bo, whose only response was to stare in through the window, their
mouths agape. For the first time, they'd actually seen the transformation from
one personality to the other with their own eyes. This man was *not* John
Black, not the one they'd known so long and so well. He was someone completely
different and he was making Marlena's point quite clearly. John was fighting an
apparently losing battle with Stefano Dimera's creation. The drinking was not
the mark of one man's descent into a hell of his own making, but rather a
failed attempt to stave off what was ostensibly an inevitable battle for
control over his mind, body, and spirit.
Sandra H. Bondelier
200-2004