Fifty-seven hours later
Roman is sound asleep. He sits next to Marlena's bed, his head bowed. His cheek rests solidly against the stark white blanket that covers his wife.
He still has not left the hospital, and he's only snatched an hour or so of sleep here and there for days now. He's unreservedly exhausted and the constant stress and anxiety is taking its toll.
But still, he refuses to leave. Even the medical staff have given up trying to persuade him. They've realized that it's hopeless. The most they've been able to get him to do is have a shower and change his clothes. Other than that, Roman will not leave his wife's side. Not for a moment.
The doctor that had ordered the twenty minute visits had rescinded that same order yesterday when it had become apparent that his patient's husband was not going anywhere. And with the lack of change in her condition, he had decided that it was better to have her husband in the room with her, out of harm's way rather than cluttering up the corridor outside the room. There can still be only one visitor at a time, but Roman is in there for most of the twenty-four hours that a day gives him.
He sleeps uneasily and he twitches and moans, his hand searching across the white expanse until it finds Marlena's. His fingers twine with hers and he mutters something softly.
And then almost inaudibly, a soft whimper slips from Marlena's throat.
Roman's head rises as though he has heard a gunshot, although, in truth, he has not consciously heard anything. Not anything he can remember.
But still, he knows something has just happened. Something has disturbed him. He looks at Marlena with bleary eyes and shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of sleep that lingers, obscuring rational thought.
There is no change. Marlena still lies in the same position, long lashes sweeping over high porcelain cheeks.
Roman pushes himself away from the bed and runs his fingers through his hair, pushing at his scalp to try and eliminate the headache that has taken up residence there. He looks around, but everything is as it was when he had laid his head down.
With a sigh, he reaches up and brushes the back of his fingers over her cheek, being careful not to disturb the clear tube that runs under her nose and across her face. She looks so fragile, like a china doll and there are some moments where he's almost afraid to touch her, lest she break.
"C'mon Doc." He breathes heavily. "Come back to me baby. You have to fight, you have to do this." His eyes crinkle at the corners, always a good indicator that he is fighting tears. "C'mon honey. If it's not for me, then do it for the kids. Do it for Belle and Sami. They need you Marlena, they need their mother. Don't let them down baby!"
His lower lip trembles as he waits for the reply that never comes. And then the frustration gets the better of him. "Come on now Marlena. Wake up, baby. Just wake up, dammit!" His breath catches in his throat and he swings his head away in disgust. Yeah because getting angry at her is really going to make her want to come back.
He sighs and rubs his thumb over the back of her hand, studying the long, graceful fingers that are both gentle and strong.
"I'm sorry baby. I know I can be an idiot. And I know I've hurt you. God knows, I know that, and I regret every single thing I ever did "that caused you pain. He clenches his jaw and swallows over an arid tongue. "But see, you're safe now honey and I *promise* I'll never ever hurt you again. I'll devote my life to giving you everything. If that's what you want. And if you don't want it...me..." he stumbles over the words, the pain in his chest suddenly intensifying. "Well, I just need you in my life, however much or little that is, Doc. I know it's selfish but I need you somewhere, somehow in my world. I can't bear waking up every morning knowing you're not somewhere near." He squeezes her hand tighter and then lifts it to his cheek, cradling the palm against the thick stubble that has re-grown since his last effort at shaving in the hospital bathroom. "God, I can't bear spending the next thirty, forty, years feeling like this, Marlena. I can't bear the thought of never seeing your smile, or hearing you laugh...."
His voice breaks and he looks away at the ceiling, trying to control his bubbling emotions. When he glances back his eyes catch the envelope on the cabinet on the other side of the bed.
"The results are in Marlena. Did I tell you that?" He says so much to her, the same things over and over again that he forgets what he has told her, or how many times he has told her it. Still, as long as he's talking, trying to communicate with her, that's the important thing. If she would open her eyes and tell him to shut up and stop repeating himself - that would make him the happiest man in the world.
"Bo and Hope brought them over." He gives her a weak smile. "Bo wanted me to open them. You can imagine. He's certainly stubborn, that brother of mine." He frowns. "Couldn't understand why I wouldn't open the envelope. Of course he wants to know, and so do I. But it doesn't seem right doing it without you there, Doc." His frown transforms into the hint of an apologetic smile and he resumes his exploration of her hand with his thumb. "Truth is, I was a little nervous. And then I realized something. See, the family, they turned their backs on me." He frowns again, his forehead folding into furrows. "They didn't mean to, they were doing what they thought was right. But you were the one that believed in me, that always tried to reach out to me when I was at my lowest ebb. And I still don't remember anything before the time I came to Salem as the Pawn." He shrugs. "Maybe one day I will, but for now..." he lifts her hand and kisses it with the gentlest of touches. "My life started the day I saw you in that hospital, Marlena. I felt at that moment that you were the most beautiful creature I had ever laid my eyes on. I couldn't remember anyone or anything, but I was certain of that. And you were immediately all I could think of. So really, it's not all that important. Whether I'm Roman or just some random stranger who happened to have been thrust into your life..." He gives her a loving smile and kisses her fingers again. "Either way, the only thing that really matters to me Marlena is that I get to share my life with you. Whoever I am...."
A sudden image of Grace flashes before him. She's beneath him, golden eyes huge and terror-filled and there is the sound of tearing silk.
"No!" he mutters, shutting his eyes tightly and shaking his head. "Jesus, *no*, that was not me. I would never hurt you like that baby, you have to believe me!"
He drops his head onto the cover, the white cotton soaking up the moisture that slides from his eyes. He's had the same nightmare several times in the past couple of days. It's haunting him, both John Black's actions and his near-failure to stop the alien personality from demolishing Marlena's final reserves of strength and sanity. He doubts he will ever be able to forget the past week. He's not sure he ever should.
"I'm sorry baby," he whispers, "You have no idea how sorry I am. If I just had the chance to tell you... to see your eyes and tell you how I felt... feel..."
It's a while before he lifts his head again, the room silent but for the now-familiar tiny blips of the monitor above the head of the bed. The room looks fuzzy for a moment as his eyes attempt to focus. He's so tired he can barely keep his eyes open and he knows that soon he's going to have to give in and sleep for at least a few hours. His body is on the verge of closing down and he's going to collapse if he doesn't start listening to it.
"Don't want to leave you baby," he murmurs. "But I'm so tired. So damn tired I can hardly think straight." He sighs and leans his elbow on the bed, propping up his head with failing fingers. He smiles and closes his eyes. "Do you know how incredible you looked when I first saw you in that hospital?" One corner of his mouth twists upwards in an ironic grin. "Seems like our lives have been filled with first times. Remember when you were in hospital after you took that dive off that apartment building? You gave me a fright then." He chuckles softly. "You're good at doing that. Frightening the hell out of me." His smile falters then and he takes a deep breath. "I'll never forget that night on the pier. When you came back to me. Damn, but you looked like an angel. Like the most exquisite, beautiful angel, appearing out of the mist. I couldn't believe it when I touched you and you were real...." His eyes flutter open, dry and sore and he looks at her. "You're still the most beautiful woman that ever walked God's earth. How the hell did I get so lucky?"
The beeps chime a rhythmic beat that fill the silence of the room as his eyes drift closed again.
With a start, he lifts his head, his eyes fluttering open. "C'mon baby," he says softly, "You're killing me here. I can't eat; I can't sleep... my body's going to pack up soon. Give a guy a break and open those pretty eyes of yours...."
He takes a deep breath and hefts himself out of his chair, perching himself on the edge of the bed instead. Maybe if he's less comfortable, he'll be less inclined to let the exhaustion beat him.
"I was thinking, you know," he continues. "About what an ass I've been. You've got every right to hate me, you know. I've had too much time lately to think of all the things that I've done wrong in the past ten years. And there's way too many of them." He draws the palm of his hand down her thigh, just the feel of her next to him somehow comforting. "It started when I let you walk away Doc. I know I had Isabella, and you know I loved her. But it was never anything like what we had. I think she always knew she was second best, that's why she resented you for so long. I never meant to hurt her, but I think I did because she knew, deep down that if you'd so much as looked at me the right way..." He sighs. "If I'd known baby, if I'd had an inkling that he was the kind of man he was... I *never* would have let him anywhere near you. I guess Stefano did a pretty good job on him though. And a good job on all of us too."
He pauses, thinking of the day that Kristen had wheeled the Roman doppelganger into the middle of their wedding. How different things might have been....
"And then there was Kristen." He sighs, dropping his head guiltily. Then he looks up at her again, his hand reaching to hold hers again. "Jesus, how could I have been so blind, Doc? I am *so* sorry she hurt you so much. You know, it all makes a lot more sense now, this far down the track. I see things a lot more clearly; I see how she must have hurt you and how you kept silent to protect me. But God I wish you'd said something; I wish you hadn't been so damned noble, Doc. Always looking out for everyone else and putting yourself last. Why do you do that?" His eyes crinkle at the corners again as the pain of his omnipresent guilt swells, making his chest ache. "Why? You should have known your happiness was more important to me than *anything*. But you didn't, did you? Didn't know that because I didn't tell you. Just kept on blindly ignoring what was right in front of my face."
He gives a snort of disgust, "I should have known. Christ, a woman like you? All you had to do was click your fingers and any man would have come running. But you didn't, just lived your life, bearing the burden, watching me behave like a complete *ass*. Jesus, Doc, why'd you even *look* at me after everything I put you through?"
The machines behind Marlena continue their long, even beeping.
Roman is silent for a long while, lost in his own thoughts. And then his eyelids flutter closed and his head droops. With a jerk, comes to wakefulness again, and shakes his head rapidly, trying to rid himself of the fatigue that plagues him.
"Listen baby," he says softly, "I gotta go get some coffee. I think I should mainline it. I need something to keep me awake. Unless, you know, you want to wake up. Because that would sure as hell give me a boost." He gives her a rueful smile. "Guess not, huh? Listen, I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't go anywhere, okay?"
With a long and weary sigh, he unfolds his limbs and slides off the bed, his feet hitting the floor with a thud, the impact rolling through his body like a wave until it vibrates in his teeth. Everything feels tired, not just his head and his eyes, but his whole body, down to his teeth feels utterly shattered.
"Be right back babe," he runs the palm of his hand down her leg and then turns for the door.
He opens it to exit and sees Bo sitting in the seat opposite the room. He doesn't look at all happy and the very last thing Roman feels like is an argument with his little brother about why he won't open the results to the DNA test.
But that's not what makes him stop short.
What makes him stop are the hairs that stand up on the back of his neck. That familiar feeling that envelopes him like a warm fog, the connection, the comfort of knowing she is near.
His heart hammers in his chest, racing so fast he feels breathless, as slowly he turns around and meets those eyes he knows and loves so well....
"Marlena! Sweetheart, thank *God*!" He retraces his steps to the side of her bed, a smile etched across his weary face. "How are you feeling baby? I was so worried about you, I thought.... God, I was so afraid..." He realizes he's babbling as a shadow of something unfamiliar passes across her face. She's not smiling, in fact her expression is all but blank and a sudden panic grips Roman as he stops short.
"Baby?" he asks softly. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"
She's silent for a moment and then her voice comes in a grating whisper. "Tired," she says, "and sore. What the hell happened to me?"
"You..." he pauses, unsure how to proceed. Part of him hopes she doesn't remember anything of the past few months, that he can break it gently to her when she's a bit stronger. And part of him is terrified that if she doesn't remember any of it, then Grace will come calling again. He's not sure he's strong enough to handle that again. "You had an accident, Doc," he tells her gently. "What... what's the last thing you remember?"
She blinks rapidly, her eyes growing distant for a moment. And then with a start, she looks at Roman, her eyes wide.
"Salem Place. We were at Salem Place. And..." a tiny frown twists her mouth as she looks away. Her eyes flick back and forth as she tries to remember and the frown grows, echoed by the creasing of the skin between her brows, "Stefano was there. He..." She stops abruptly and looks up at Roman, a flush staining her cheeks as she swallows. "Oh John," she shakes her head, her eyes filling with tears.
"Marlena, I am *so* sorry," he says softly. "You have no idea how sorry I am. And we need to talk about it. We need to sit down and have a good long talk about it. I have a hell of a lot to explain to you and a hell of a lot to make up to you, if..." he stops, taking a deep breath, "if you'll let me. But right now, I think I should get the doctor in here. Check you over."
He gives her a tentative smile and reaches out to touch her face. But she flinches, turns her head away before he gets the chance. And he draws back his hand, like he's been burnt, gasping for breath at the pain that resounds in his chest.
He clenches his jaw, grinding his teeth together as he turns away from her, trying not to let her coldness upset him. He knows she has every right to be upset, knows he has no claim to her love or her benevolence.
"John?" Her voice comes from behind him. Soft and terrified. "John, please... don't leave me."
He swings around immediately, and takes the one step that takes him back to her bedside, his heart pounding as he takes in the fear in her eyes, the panic that freezes her face.
"Hey baby," he snatches up her nearest hand in his. "It's okay, you're fine. Nobody is going to hurt you now. I promise you." He bends his head towards hers with a smile that belies his turmoil.
"I had..." her voice is tiny, her eyes brimming with fear. Her hands tremble as she pulls them away from him, curls them into fists, drawing them up in front of her. "I had a nightmare. I..." She bites her bottom lip. "I dreamed... I..." her eyes flick away from Roman, trying to find something, anything else to focus on. But she can't find it. Instead, looks back at him, honeyed eyes pleading, desperate for reassurance. "Roman. It... was Roman. I..." her lower lip trembles and Roman feels a pounding in his chest. A deep seated distress for her that swamps him. "I hurt him, John. I... shot him." And then her voice literally drops an octave as she expresses her deepest fear. "I *killed* him. Why would I do that?" She grits her teeth, trying to quell the rising panic. "Why would my subconscious come up with something like that?"
Roman pauses for a moment, unable to form the words. He's not sure what to say that will comfort her. He knows he can't lie to her. He's never been able to lie to her, not deliberately. But he can't tell her the truth either. Not like this, not when they're both so unprepared.
"It's okay, sweetheart," he says softly, reaching out to cover her fists with his large palms. "It'll be okay, I promise you, baby. I'll look after you."
Marlena holds his eyes for what seems like long moments, searching the cerulean depths for some explanation. Some kind of truth. And the longer the silence lasts, the harder her heart thumps in her chest. And the more her horror grows.
"It's not, is it?" she asks in an almost inaudible whisper. "It's not a dream. It happened. It really happened."
Roman tries to look away, but he is skewered by her anguished gaze. He chews absently on his lower lip trying to find the words that will comfort her, that will stall her questions, at least for a few minutes. He doesn't want to be having this conversation now. He's worried that he might say something that will upset her too much. She's too fragile right now, he's come too close to losing her to take any risks.
If he can just get the doctor in here to look her over and ask some advice on what he should say to her.... But he can't just ignore her questions, can't ignore the pain etched across her frightened face.
Gently he perches on the side of the bed and runs his thumb across her forehead, sweeping stray locks of hair from her eyes.
"There's a lot I have to tell you Marlena. A lot has happened in the past few months. But the most important thing you need to know is that whatever happened, it was not your fault. You were simply protecting yourself, sweetheart." He pauses, taking her hand in his, squeezing it as though his life and hers depends on it. Her expression is confused and more than a little disbelieving. "It's okay Doc, I'll explain it all as soon as I can, but you need to know...that man... he wasn't Roman Brady. You don't need to feel guilty, because he wasn't Roman."
Marlena peers back at him, her anxiety and misapprehension drawn all over her ashen features. How can he be so calm about this? She remembers it. It's not a firm memory, it's almost like watching her life through a movie camera, images and emotions that are not hers, but yet still hers.
But she remembers it all right. She's numb from the remembering but she can see it in her mind's eye; putting a gun to Roman's head and she recalls the accompanying emotion as she emptied the clip into his brain. He was her ex-husband, the father of her children. But she had murdered him and she had enjoyed doing it.
She can't live with this knowledge, it's horrific, it's soul-destroying, and she doesn't understand how John can sit there as though nothing has happened.
It's at that moment that Bo appears in the doorway.
Marlena takes one look at his face and new images, new memories wash over her. Fragmented, jumbled, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. She has no reference, no frame to put them together. But she knows that like her memory of Roman, they are real. They're not some terrible nightmare conjured by her tortured brain. They are horrifically real.
She instinctively tries to move away from him, tries to scramble up the bed, but she's stopped by a searing pain that slices through her side and her abdomen. She gasps heavily, her eyes wide and glassy as she fights the nausea and the dizziness. John quickly wraps his arm around her shoulder, helping her to lie back down against the pillows.
She stares back up into his beautiful indigo eyes, seeking some tiny measure of comfort. She might not deserve it, but whatever she's done, she knows he will be there for her. She's not entirely sure how she knows, but she does know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he will always be there for her.
The knowledge is both terrifying and breathtaking.
He smiles softly at her, drawing his fingers down the side of her face. "It's okay Doc," he whispers, "It's gonna be okay."
In the doorway, Bo takes a step forward. "John?" he begins.
"Not now Bo," John answers curtly. "Now is not a good time. I need to spend some time with my wife. Privately." He turns around to eye Bo with a clear warning that he shouldn't say anything further. "Please will you find me a doctor, I need to know that she's okay."
Bo pauses for a moment, as if he's going to argue with John, but then Marlena hears the sound of his footsteps receding from the room.
She continues to look at John, her eyes imploring, and she curls her fingers around his wrist.
"What happened to me?" she asks desperately. "I need to know."
"Shhhhh." John seats himself on the bed next to her and attempts to calm her, stroking her hair tenderly. "Just trust me, baby. I'll tell you everything, as soon as I can. But right now I need to make sure that you're all right. I need to get a doctor in here to look you over. You have no idea how scared I've been for the last few days. I thought I was going to lose you, lose you for real this time. And I couldn't have taken it."
She shakes her head. She's miserable and she aches inside and out. "How can you love me after what I've done? I don't know, don't understand..." She shakes her head again, utterly lost. They're just images, but they mean something. Something real. She's hurt people. "What have I done? What is it you need to tell me? Have I... is it...?" she swallows again, too frightened to even voice the thought that is burned into her consciousness. "Is it the same as... before?"
"No!" John says immediately, grasping her hand tightly. "No Doc, it's not... you weren't....possessed," he assures her.
"Oh..." she oddly feels a sense of something akin to disappointment. As horrendous as that prospect is, at least it would provide some kind of explanation for the upsetting images and sensations that flicker through her head. She drops her head and tries to gather her composure. But she fails when he squeezes her hand again, sweeping his thumb across the back of her hand and she looks up at him, her lashes trembling with tears. "I've done terrible things John. You don't understand..."
He gives her a tiny smile. "Don't you realize yet, sweetheart? I'll love you until the end of this world, until the end of *eternity*. I'll love you no matter who you are or what you do. I can't *not* love you, Marlena. I've tried to put you behind me, for both our sakes, but the reality is, it will never happen. You are my world; you're my reason for *being*. I'll never *stop* loving you."
Big, fat tear drops roll silently down her cheeks and she presses her lips together as she stares at him. Then she folds up her arms, hiding the lower part of her face behind whitened fists.
She can't bear the sympathy in his smile, the utter devotion in his eyes. She doesn't deserve them; she doesn't deserve any of it.
He reaches out and wipes away the tears with the pads of his thumbs as fast as they fall. "I love you, Doc. You'll never get rid of me, baby. Believe it." He sighs, cocking his head on one side. "I've got so much to make up to you and I'm going to spend the rest of my life doing just that. So don't you worry about what I think of you. If you can forgive me the things I've done, then I sure as hell can forgive you."
Marlena closes her eyes, unable to bear any longer the love and comfort she sees radiating from his gaze. She doesn't deserve to be loved by him. Not if the images that are flashing behind her eyelids bear any resemblance to the truth.
It's like watching a movie, a jumbled movie of a life she hasn't lived. Memories that she has that are not hers and yet have residence inside her head. Faces that she knows, faces that she loves. Faces that are those of strangers. But they all bear a similarity. The pain and the fear. Tears and anger and violence. God help her.... so much blood... and so much pain.
If even a part of what these images tell her is true, if this is her world now, she's not sure wants any part of it. And once John finds out what she's done, once he has some idea of the terrible things she has done... there's no way he will be able to love her. She'll be alone, as she deserves to be.
And if she's alone, if he turns his back on her, she might as well be dead.
And maybe she deserves that too....