Shawn stands at the back of the pub, staring at his parents in shock. He had thought that all the weird shit that had happened in the past year was finally over. But nothing has prepared him for this. His mom... his *mom* slept with John Black when she thought she was that Gina person. How much more freaky can this shit *get*?
He wishes that Belle was here so that he could talk to her.... But on second thought, that might be just a little too creepy. Just the thought that it is possible that very soon they could share a sibling, is really sick.
"Bo," Hope's voice quavers as she takes a tentative step towards him. "Please, we have to work this out-"
"Look," Bo holds out the palms of his hands to halt her flood of desperate words. "I can't talk about this now, I just can't..."
"Bo," Abe steps forward, ready to intervene.
"NO Abe," Bo shakes his head, his eyes hard. He knows deep down that he has no rational reason to feel betrayed, but the fact is that he does. He can't look at Hope and not think of her being with John. Wanting to be with John.
He turns away from her and looks into Abe's compassionate gaze. Somehow it doesn't help. "I buried my brother this morning Abe. There was the whole deal with Stefano and Marlena, and now I find out that it was John that fathered Hope's baby. It's too much. I... I can't take it all in right now." He looks at his gathered family, pleading for understanding from their blank faces. "I just need some time to work this out in my head. I need some time...."
He looks back at Hope then and sees the pain in her eyes and he hates himself. But he has no choice. He can't pretend that this isn't happening. It is and he has to work out how he feels about it before he does anything else.
He doesn't utter another word, just leaves the pub much in the same manner John had done only minutes before.
~
"Come out old man!" John hammers violently on the front door of the DiMera mansion. "You old *bastard*, stop being a fucking coward and come out and face me!"
The rage has been sharpened, honed to a needle fine point and Stefano is the sole focus of that fury. "Dammit Stefano, I *know* you're in there!" His voice has dropped to an animalistic growl as he paces in front of the wooden door. "Come out and face me like a man!" He stops and looks up at the house. "Unless you're AFRAID!" he yells, the muscles standing out in cords under the mottled skin of his throat.
His taunts seem to strike home, because a moment later, the front door swings open. John steps over the threshold cautiously, peering into the foyer. However, there appears to be no one inside.
"Where are you?" he snarls. "I never took you to be a coward, Stefano!" He strides into the middle of the foyer and looks around him. The place has barely changed since the days he lived here with Kristen. The days when *he* had been too much of a coward to be honest with Marlena about his feelings.
He still can't believe, after everything that they have been through in the intervening years, that she would be prepared to throw their love away.
"I am hardly a coward, John," Stefano appears in the entranceway to the living room, a glass wedged in his pudgy fingers. "I was merely waiting until you had exhausted yourself with your little temper tantrum."
"Listen you vicious old bastard-" Stefano barely has time to blink before John is standing in front of him. Barely in control of his temper, John twists his fingers in the expensive white cotton of Stefano’s shirt and he slams the large man brutally against the wall.
Slightly shaken by John’s sudden attack, Stefano purposefully opens his hand and lets the crystal tumbler catch the edge of the table, shattering in lethal shards over the plush carpet.
"The hatred I feel for you is nothing as *harmless* as a tantrum." John growls.
"Ah, John..." Stefano's face does not betray the slight concern that flickers through him. Instead, he laughs openly.
"Don't 'ah, John' me, old man," his lips have thinned into an impossibly white line as he pushes Stefano against the wall. "Marlena's not here to save you this time."
"Ah yes," Stefano replies, seemingly unfazed by John's threats. "The exquisite Marlena..... She has you quite troubled, I think..."
"What have you *done* to her!" John twists the shirt in his hands, tightening the collar around Stefano's neck so that his face darkens. "Doc would *never* go anywhere willingly with you. What the *hell* have you done to her?"
"Perhaps I could ask you the same thing, *John*..." Stefano answers carefully. "Surely you must have known Marlena could not handle the news of your betrayal." He lifts one beetling black brow. "After all, that *is* why you kept it a secret, is it not?"
"I did *not* betray her," John roars as he thumps Stefano back against the wall. "*Marlena* would know that."
"Whatever you say, John." Stefano's voice is strained and he is struggling for breath through the tightness of his constricted throat. "But instead of blaming me, perhaps you should be discussing this with you *wife*. After all, you grow apart by the minute. Very soon there will be nothing to resurrect, I think."
"We'd be just fine if you weren't in our lives," John can see Stefano's struggle and he knows that all it would take would be just to tighten his grip for a few more minutes...
Stefano gasps for breath as his mind works swiftly. In the past John's rage worked *for* him. As his mercenary, John had been at his beck and call. But he seems to not be able to control him any longer. Even the shattering of glass, which once was a signal, does nothing now to bring him round from his purpose. Instead, all he can think to do is invoke Marlena. She is the one thing that Stefano knows he can use to control John. It has never failed in the past and it had better not fail now.
"John, if you think I have done something to the *beautiful* Marlena, then how will I undo it if I am dead?" he wheezes.
As he expects, John's jaw tenses and he glares uncertainly back. He wants nothing more than to beat Stefano to a pulp but he has no doubt that the old man knows more than he is saying. He can’t risk Marlena by losing control now.
Grudgingly, he loosens his hold on Stefano and steps back.
"*Undo* it," he commands.
"You expect even if I could, that I would?" Stefano steps out of reach of John's grip and straightens his shirt.
"If it's the last thing you *do* old man," John stalks after him as he walks toward the door, shrugging his velvet smoking jacket into place. "You *will* do it."
The tone of his voice is chilling and for a moment, Stefano feels an icy apprehension steal across him. And then he takes hold of himself and he smiles pleasantly.
"The truth, my dear John, is that I have nothing to do with Marlena's... notable behaviour of late. I would say that that is all due to you... and Hope of course."
"Leave Hope out of this!" John, lips thin again and he struggles to keep a hold of his temper. He is not sure why, but he got the distinct impression earlier that Stefano was threatening Marlena in some way. He is still not at all sure what is going on, but he is sure that Stefano *does* know, and he can't afford to blow things before he finds out himself. Stefano is the key to this mystery, as he always is and John knows it.
"I think that is impossible, is it not?" Stefano grins nastily and John gets the feeling that somehow he already knows what went down at the pub earlier. It only serves to increase his unease.
"Until we meet again then," Stefano raises his hand in a gesture of farewell. "And if I happen to encounter the fair Dr. Evans before you do, I shall tell her you were enquiring after her."
"*Stay* away from her." There is a swell of passionate rage in John's gravely voice as he turns on Stefano. "I mean it, old man. If you so much as even *touch* her, I swear I will make you *suffer* so that the devil himself feels sorry for you."
"Quite a threat, John," the smile has disappeared from Stefano's face and their expressions reflect the tension between them.
"Depend on my determination to carry it out Stefano," John says quietly, but there is no mistaking the antagonism in his voice. "I'll do it and I'll enjoy it."
~
Bo rounds the familiar corner but he doesn't see anything of his surroundings. All he sees are eyes, betraying so many emotions. Shock, anger, resentment... guilt.... He saw it in John's eyes and he would swear he saw it in Hope's eyes too. So if they had no choice, if they really had no control over their actions... why do they suffer from guilt?
"Because it's natural to feel guilty when you hurt your family," he murmurs to himself. Somehow it doesn't help.
He looks up from his ruminations and sees the Fancy-Face II in front of him. His home for so many years, now she's simply another boat moored at the wharf. No... not *just* another boat. She's *his*, and imbued with memories that he can't leave behind. Maybe here, he can find the strength he needs. Maybe the memories of Carly and Billie that are hidden in unseen corners of the boat can remind him that he has good reasons to forgive Hope - if indeed he even has anything to forgive her for.
With a sigh, he climbs on board and lowers himself down the small stepladder beneath the hatch. But he catches his breath as he turns around. He has an unexpected visitor.
"Sorry," she says huskily, her leather-clad legs pulled up to her chest as she rests back against the wall. "I didn't know where else to go. I just couldn't stand the thought of going home."
"Are you okay?" he asks as his eyes travel to the bottle of red wine beside her.
"I don't know," she admits as she looks up at him with wide hazel eyes. "I feel as though my whole life has been turned upside down, like a rug has been pulled out from under me and I just..." she swallows hastily and drops her head into her hands.
"Hey, Marlena, it's gonna be okay," Bo offers softly as he sits beside her, self-consciously.
"Is it?" she looks across at him, her smoky eyes almost unreadable. "I..." she looks away. "God, I'm sorry Bo. I shouldn't have done that to you, it was so unfair."
"Well," Bo puts a hand on her arm and notices, despite himself, how warm she is. "You've been under a lot of pressure Marlena. It's okay."
"Really?" She relaxes slightly.
"Really." He nods, exhaling as the tension goes out of his own shoulders. "Do you mind if I have a glass of your wine? I could do with a drink."
"Not at all," she smiles wanly. "Actually, it's your wine anyway. I stole it from your rack down there," she points to a small wine rack under a seat. "Sorry."
Grace watches Bo get up and pick a glass. Most of the dishes in the boat are covered with a fine layer of dust and he has to rinse out his selection. He comes back to the table and slides back onto the seat next to her. She smiles secretively as he picks up the bottle and pours himself a glass of the crimson merlot. So far, so very good.
"Cheers," he raises the glass.
"Cheers," she clinks hers against his as she flutters her lashes. She watches as Bo takes a large mouthful and swallows it, grimacing as the bitter tannins from the dark grapes sear his throat. And she waits as his mind processes the implications of the situation that they find themselves in. The next few minutes will tell her if he is indeed as malleable as she suspects.
"How long has he known?" he asks as he studies the glass with bleary eyes.
"I don't know," she shrugs, "he *says* since New Years."
"You don't believe him?" Bo turns to look at her.
"Well, he's hardly given me cause to." Her expression hardens as she takes a mouthful of wine from her own glass.
She pauses and looks at Bo. "Do you think Hope was telling the truth? That she didn't know?"
Bo nods. "That's the one thing I am sure of. You know how desperately she wanted to know the truth about what happened last year, Marlena. She couldn’t fake that. Why would she?"
"Yeah, well...." Grace shrugs noncommittally.
Bo hears something in her voice and studies her for a moment. Her body language paints her as tense and uncertain, but there is steel behind her normally warm eyes and a bitterness that seeps through her voice.
"Do you blame her for this?" he asks as he leans back against the lumpy cushions.
"Why shouldn't I?" she returns bitterly. "Bo, she was *so* determined to find out about her past, she didn't care about the cost to anyone else. After all, she abandoned you and her son in order to parade around Europe in those ridiculous ballgowns and tiaras. She threw herself at John and pushed him to remember his past, even when it was hurting him. And me." She lifts her eyes to Bo and calls on the tears, which obediently gather at the fringes of her lashes. "I can't help it Bo. I hate her for what she's done to us. She was childish and selfish. It didn't matter to her who got hurt, as long as she got what she wanted." She takes a deep breath, seeing the conflict in Bo's eyes. "Well, I hope she's happy with her victory. I hope she's so happy she *chokes* on it."