A Grand Design
Marlena sat on the
bed for a few moments, collecting her thoughts, and trying to figure out how a
pleasant moment could turn out so badly. What had made his anger flare so suddenly?
She slipped off the edge and padded across the floor, looking out into the main
room to see John leaning against the front wall of windows, staring almost
blankly out over the mountainside. She saw him put his head down as she stepped
a little closer and heard his quiet sigh.
When she thought
they could endure the silence no longer, Marlena spoke softly, offering an
apology, "I'm sorry, John, for whatever I said that upset you."
He shook his head,
and not quite looking at her, apologized himself, "No, I'm sorry, I don't
know why I flew off the handle like that. I'm really sorry, Marlena. I don't
know what's wrong with me."
She knew that part
of it was the grief he had such a hard time letting himself admit to, let alone
feel, but she said nothing about it, choosing instead to focus on the
present. "It's alright. I guess we should expect to have a few rough
moments along the way. You're right, we do come from different worlds, John,
but that doesn't have to a bad thing. Does it?" she asked, while tenderly
massaging his neck and shoulders.
He thought for a
minute and then turned to look her square in the eye. "No, I guess it
doesn't. So, where do we start?"
She smiled and then
extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Doctor Marlena Evans. I'm a psychiatrist and
I'm visiting France to speak at a conference
on Post Traumatic Stress."
He froze. Hearing
her utter the phrase caused a swiftly rising sense of panic to set in. His
heart rate seemed to climb rapidly and his breathing increased in pace as well,
a light sheen of sweat dotting his forehead.
She couldn't help
but notice his sudden discomfort. "John, what is it?"
The man shook his
head in a sharp, jerky motion, puzzled by his own response. "I... I
don't... know." A sudden piercing headache almost knocked him down it was
so intense.
His mind went blank
as the words echoed inside his skull. 'Post
traumatic stress. Flashbacks frequent and intense. Intrusive memories are
pervasive, occurring in nightmares as well as during waking hours. Multiple
triggers of unknown origin. Prognosis poor, patient has very little chance for
a full recovery.' Over and over he heard those same kinds of words and
phrases....
He suddenly
faltered, one hand reaching toward the windowsill as he felt his body going out
of balance. Instinctively, Marlena moved to guide him toward the couch to ride
it out, whatever *it* was.
She immediately
kicked into doctor mode, watching him closely while trying to capture his
attention and determine what was wrong. But, he didn't respond to further
questioning, seeming to become lost in rumination or fixated on a memory;
she couldn't tell which. His eyelids fluttered several times as he sat
perfectly still, his breathing still rapid and shallow. The man was obviously
in some kind of emotional shock and she had no idea why. It was frightening and
very worrisome. "John...are you alright?"
Nothing but a
horrified expression. "John, please, answer me....tell me what's
wrong."
The next thing she
knew, his head lolled to one side and his eyes rolled back. A second or two
later, he was out cold. "Oh, John," she said, groaning.
"A little warning would have been nice," she added, bearing
what felt like his full weight with her arms and upper body. She
eased him down onto the couch and stretched his legs out, situating him so
that he appeared to be resting comfortably. Next, she did the only
thing she could do. She sat across the room and waited for him to come around.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Looking out over
the Alps, Bo Brady sighed, wishing he could put his arms around Hope and take
comfort from her love. One of the most beautiful places in the world and he
couldn't appreciate it. Not with Marlena out there, somewhere, with a man they
knew very little about. What they did know definitely wasn't pretty. The
evidence demonstrated that the man was a thief and a killer for hire, not to
mention a powder keg of explosive emotion that could blow at any time.
Three days. It had
been three long days since the fire at the Inn and they still had
next to nothing to go on. "Shane, I can't believe that with all these
agents, nobody's got any idea where this guy could be holed up with her!"
"Neither can
I, Bo, but he must have had this place for awhile and kept it a secret from
everybody he knew. Word is that Stefano can't find him either, so we at least
have that to be thankful for at this point."
"Yea, oh, man,
Shane, my parents are going out of their minds, they're so worried about her
and the twins. Bo smiled briefly, as he thought of his brother and how he'd
dubbed the little cherubs, 'the
twinners.' And then the anger flared. Dimera had killed his brother and
now, one of his people had taken Marlena hostage. He wasn't going to let the
monster get away with it, not ever again.
"Bo, what are
you thinking?"
"That I want
to find Marlena and then I want to nail this bastard once and for all. He's
hurt us enough. And I swear, if this John Black, or whoever the hell he really
is, has so much as touched her, he's a dead man, Shane."
Bo was calm but his
eyes were ablaze. He was serious. Placing his hands lightly on the younger
man's shoulders, Shane urged his friend to hold it together a little
while longer, "Bo, listen to me, I understand your anger, but you
can't let it get in the way. It won't do anybody any good if you go off, it'll
only get you in major trouble and cause more pain and suffering to everyone
that you love."
Slamming his fist
on the table next to him, Bo yelled at his friend, "Dammit, I'm just so
FRUSTRATED! That bastard murdered my brother, Shane! And now, Marlena's out
there somewhere, being manipulated into a world she knows nothing about."
"I know that.
It's getting to me too, Bo... but we have to keep our focus on helping her,
arresting Stefano and his people, and making sure that none of them get
away."
He blew out a weary
sigh and said, "Yea, I know you're right, I just wish we would hear
something."
"Me too, Bo,
me too," Shane said, also sighing, thinking that a good night's sleep
would help. "Why don't we pack it in for the night, Bo."
He shrugged and
said, "Sure, why not? Nothing else to do."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Alright, I've
told you about my life in Salem, my work, the kids. Now it's your turn."
He stood up from
where he'd been sitting to look out the windows, lightly shaking his head.
Telling her the truth would surely set the fledging relationship on a short
course toward disaster. Not that lying would have a better result. He shrugged
and said, too casually, "There's nothing much to tell, really. I've moved
around a lot--done lots of different things to make a living--not very
exciting."
"John, you
can't run from it," she said, rising to follow him.
"Who says I'm
running? Uh, aside from the fact that I'm *on* the run, that is?" he said,
chuckling in spite of himself.
"So, talk to
me, John, tell me about your life."
"Marlena, I
think we both know where this is headed. I was right; we come from two
completely different worlds. There never really was a chance for us, so why
don't we just quit pretending. What we have between us here is attraction,
that's it."
She couldn't figure
this man out. Things were going fairly well, they were having a pleasant
conversation and then just that quickly, the distance between them seemed
to be widening again. "Speak for yourself, John."
"Oh, right...
next you're going to tell me that you can see past the rough exterior, that I
have a good heart and if you can just help me tap into that, I'll begin to
change and turn my life around. Come on, Doctor Evans, is that it?" he
asked, taking another step or two away from her. As if the space
could quell the yearning he felt growing deep inside him, a yearning to know
and be known, to love and be loved by her alone.
"Something
like that, yes."
He laughed and
shook his head to argue. "You really have led a sheltered life, woman.
Look, I think it's time I got you to a train station so you can catch a plane
back to the States. I'm sure your family is worried sick about you by
now."
"Yes, I'm sure
they are and I do want to go home, but John, I care about you."
Shaking his head
again, he contradicted her, "No you don't. You care about the man you
*want* me to be, not the man that I am."
"No, no that's
not true, John. I care about *you, * the man you are right here and now."
"And what
about my past, all the terrible things the papers say I've done? I know you
read some of it. Are you telling me you're gonna just forget about
that?"
She had no answer
for him because she didn't know how she felt about it, and partly because
she didn't even know the half of it, like he'd said earlier.
Her hesitance was
all the answer he needed. Pushing out a breath, he nodded and spoke forcefully,
"I thought so. Pack your things, we're leaving in less than an hour."
"But, John,
it's still dark out," she said, taken completely by surprise.
"Brilliant
deduction, Sherlock... of course it's dark out. We have a much better
chance of making it out of here if we leave under the cover of darkness."
With that, he turned and made his way toward the duffel bag he'd been living
out of for a week.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eighty kilometers
outside Paris.
Well before
dawn at the estate of a wealthy entrepreneur, one man paced while the other sat
patiently waiting.
Having anticipated
the call, the receiver lifted the telephone from its cradle almost before it
rang, pleased with the words he heard. "I found them, Sir.... I stopped at
a petrol station and asked the owner to tell me whether John and the woman had
been through the area. With some.... not so friendly persuasion, he told me
they had and where they were headed. Seems he knows Black and he told me the
man owns a small cabin in the area. I made him show us where it was."
"Excellent."
"What do you
want us to do, boss?"
"Watch them
closely and wait until I get there. This is personal and I want to be there
when you take him."
"Yes,
Sir!"
"Where should
I meet you?"
"We're staying
at a small Inn just outside the town of Montgenevre, it's one of the few in the
area. It's privately owned and operated."
After taking down the
name and number, he said, "Excellent work. You shall be rewarded
handsomely for your efforts."
"Thank you,
Sir, thank you very much."
"Whatever you
do, don't let them out of your site."
"No Sir, not a
chance!" the man said, practically saluting the man with his voice.
Stefano smiled,
thinking how good it felt to have so many people at his beck and call. The
taste of revenge was sweet and he salivated with the mere anticipation of
exacting it from John Black. The traitor was going to die, slowly and very
painfully after being thoroughly degraded and humiliated. He would beg to die,
but his suffering would go on and on until Stefano wanted to end it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nothing more had
been said about the incident earlier, an incident John had dismissed as
insignificant. Marlena had let it go at the time, but she wasn't buying
his lame attempt at explaining it as a bad headache and lingering effects
from the gunshot wound and being on the run. They were packed and ready to go
when she stopped John from walking out the door of the cabin to start the
vehicle, grasping hold of his left forearm.
"John, we
can't go yet, I think you know there's something else we have to talk
about."
"No, on the
contrary, I think we've said everything there is to say. Now, come on, it's
time to get you to safety so you can go back to your life, your real
life," he said, tugging the arm away from her.
"John, what
happened before, it could be something serious. I can't leave you knowing there
might be... complications."
"Marlena, it's
like I said, it was just a headache, no big deal. I get them all the time,
so there's nothing for you to worry about."
"Have you been
to see anyone about them?"
"Yea,
and I have some pills I take when they get bad, okay?" he said, hoping
she'd leave it at that.
She didn't.
"No, it's not okay, John. You don't have any pills with you now. And
besides that, it was more than a headache and we both know it. Tell me what
happened, John. What was going on inside your mind when it hit?"
Frustrated, he
spouted off at her, "Look, it doesn't matter. There's nothing you can do
about it anyway. There's nothing anyone can do." He'd said more than he
should have and immediately regretted it, scrambling for a way to cover,
finding none.
"What are you saying?"
she said, catching something in his slightly hidden eyes.
"I'm saying, I
got scrambled eggs for brains. Dimera's messed with my head so many times I
don't know who or what I am anymore."
"Messed with
your head, how John?" she asked worriedly, her eyes scrutinizing his face
for an answer that went beyond words.
"Look, Doc.. I
appreciate your concern, I really do, but it's too late."
"John, are
there things you don't remember?" she asked, making a guess.
All he did was
laugh at first. "Now what you got there is an understatement, Doctor.
Ever heard the term brainwashing?"
"Yes,
John.. I have, but why?"
"Well, rumor
has it, Stefano's done it to me. I don't like to think about it much,
but the truth is, I don't remember anything before I came to live with
him, and I don't remember when that was. Aside from what he's told me, the
only thing I *do* remember is the life I lived with him, where he was in
control of almost every move I made."
She shuddered at
the thought of what the bastard might have done to this man she'd come to care
about. "I'm sorry, John, that must have been horrible."
"No, it wasn't
all horrible; most of the time it really wasn't half bad. We
always ate well, wore nice clothes, and he taught me a lot too," John
said, his voice trailing off slightly as he recalled some of the finer moments.
Playing chess, sitting around a bountiful dinner table, drinking good
brandy in the den afterward and talking, hours spent planning an intricate
heist..
"John, are you
remembering something important?"
Hearing her voice
snapped him out of his reverie and reminded him of his current predicament,
being hunted down by a vengeful master. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I
am," he said coming to full awareness. "One of the most important lessons
I ever learned is that no one ever leaves him and lives to tell about it.
So, lady if you value your life, you better stop wasting it trying to help
me salvage mine. It's a lost cause. Now, we're getting you out of here and
back to your kids in the States. Have you got that!" he finished with
a fierceness she hadn't seen since that first day.
Angered and
feeling rejected, she yelled back at him, "Alright, if that's the way
you want to play it. Then, yes I've got it! Let's get the hell out of this
winter wasteland." She pushed past him to exit the cabin, racing toward
the Range Rover, climbing in and slamming the door without a backward glance.
John watched her
go, letting out a sigh filled with emotions he couldn't name, wondering for a
moment what might have been. But in his world there was no time for
fantasy. A handful of seconds later, he was putting the Rover in gear
and heading down the mountain toward an uncertain future.
Watching her
huddled toward the car door, shivering with the cold and a hint of the
fear he'd engendered, John made a silent promise. No matter what else
happened, he wasn't going to let any harm come to the lovely lady doctor
who had saved his life. He was going to make sure she made it home to Salem
safe and sound to raise her children. John knew
he couldn't bring back their father, the man Dimera had taken
from her, but at least he could do that much.
Sandra H. Bondelier