It's dark. It's so dark, Marlena can't even see a foot in front of her.
It's dead in here. No light, no sound. No life.
She fumbles along the wall to find the light switch but when she does, it's dead as well. Just the dull, empty clicks as she flicks it up and down. The panic rises in her throat like bile and she clamps her fingers into the palms of her hand to stop from screaming.
Biting her lower lip, she moves forward, swallowed by the suffocating blackness.
"Hello Grace." The familiar resonant voice comes from no-where, snaking out of the darkness to bind her in utter terror. Her heart pounds against her rib cage and she tries to back away but she finds herself transfixed, caught like a fly in his web.
"Stefano." Her voice is little more than a breath as her eyes finally adjust to the darkness. He is standing by the window, his hands clasped across his barrel-like belly and his eyes glittering obscenely in the dim light that is beginning to filter into the room.
"You expected someone else?" Soft. Slick. He moves towards her. He's almost gliding, moving closer and closer. Her back is against the wall as he comes upon her. "Ahhh, Grace." His teeth, glimmers of broken white in the darkness. His hand, unyielding against her throat. Against the pulse which is jumping under her skin. His voice, oily and thick, slithering and coiling around her.
She is pinned like a butterfly. Spellbound. Terrified.
"Grace, I have waited so long for this." Her breath comes in short, jagged gasps as his fingers sweep over her shoulder and downwards. "My darling," he purrs, evil spilling from him, from his words and his touch. His hands, one on her throat, one tracing the curve of her hip, sliding beneath her robe. The expanse of her thigh, naked and vulnerable to his eager fingers. "My Grace."
"I'm not Grace!" she breathes helplessly. "I'm *not* Grace." Tears course down pallid cheeks. She's paralysed with fear and she doesn't know why. He doesn't scare her.
No, he doesn't scare her; he utterly terrifies her.
"Shhhh.... my Queen." The gasp flickers on her lips and then is swallowed by his mouth, wet and demanding against hers. The hand around her throat tightens, the other slips between her thighs, seeking to gain access to that which he has no right.
"No!" She batters her hands against him, his shoulders and his chest and his face. Manic laughter bubbles from him and he moves backwards just enough that she can see his face again.
"Nooooo!"
Switch.
Not Stefano after all, but Orpheus. Black, mad eyes glaring at her. Insanity defined in the wicked laughter. In the obscenities that spew viciously forth. All flail at her defences as he comes for her again, his breath hot and fetid on her skin.
"NO!" Panic gives way to something else, a determined calm. A knife in her hand slices through his skin like it is margarine. Blood gushes from his throat as she wrenches the knife free. Blood, hot and viscous. Coating her hands and soaking into her clothes. She tests the sticky weight of the knife in her hand. It feels good and it feels right and she feels *strong*.
She steps over his body, crumpled on the ground, her bare feet tracking blood across the pale carpet.
"Brava!" The voice comes from the darkness again but it doesn't scare her now. She's found her power again. Her life-force. It was Orpheus' blood. It always comes down to the blood.
Switch.
"Doc?"
She starts at the voice but she doesn't react. Instead, her head turns slowly to the right. To the bed.
"Doc!?" He's pleading with her now and she can see why. Spread-eagled, shackled to the bed. Just like she'd left him at the inn. Her heart jumps and she feels a flicker of desire ignite between her thighs.
"Roman." Her lips redden as she reaches the side of the bed and she licks them as she stands and stares at him. He's simply luscious. She reaches out and touches his stomach and he groans with the jumping of the muscles under his skin. With the twitching of his hard cock.
With a wicked smile, the tip of her tongue resting against her upper teeth, she draws the point of her knife ever so lightly along the underside of his shaft. Blood wells up in beads in its wake and chuckles in delight as he gasps and moans incoherently. "Poor baby," she whispers, low and smoky as she trails her fingers after it. "Shall I kiss it and make it better?"
"God, Grace... *please*," he groans. "Please. I *need* you."
"You *need* me?" she raises her eyebrows and brings the point of the knife to rest against the underside of his chin. "Need me?" She pauses. "*Want* me?"
"*Love* you." Roman gasps. "God, I love you. I love you, Grace. More than anything."
"More than any*one*?" she demands harshly, pressing the point of the knife into his chin until the blood wells around the tip of the stained blade.
"You're the *only* one," he growls. "And I need you. I'm desperate, Grace. Take mercy on me, woman."
"Mercy." The word drops between them like a shard of ice. "Now there's a thought."
She climbs onto the bed, smearing blood across Marlena's floral bedclothes as she straddles him. He's hard and he's hot and the feeling of him inside her is utter bliss as she fucks him senseless.
That's as much mercy as she has within her now.
When she comes it's hard and sweet and violent and she cries out with the release.
He cries her name and she smiles with satisfaction.
Switch.
A resonant crack echoes in the darkest corner of the room. It is repeated and he emerges from the shadows, mouth curled maliciously.
"You know what to do now, Grace" he tells her, her name rolling from his tongue with a torrent of r's. "You know what you must do."
He comes to stand beside the bed, beady eyes sweeping over Roman and up to her. Aware of how vulnerable she is, she looks away. But he reaches out to her, meaty fingers twitching. Caresses her cheek. Fingertips to her chin he lifts her face to his.
"It is your destiny, Grace."
Panic flutters in her chest now. Emotion returning, raw and primitive.
"I don't think I can."
"You must," he insists. "You must if you are ever to be free. Grace," his voice silky smooth caresses and cajoles her. "You *do* wish to be free, do you not?"
"Please, Stefano," she aches and trembles and the knife is like a dead weight, welded to her hand. She tries to drop the instrument but her fingers won't unfold and she bites back the horror she suddenly feels as she realizes that she is covered in blood. "Please don't make me," she whimpers. "Please, I can't. Not Roman. Not *Roman*."
"Do it!" he snarls, all pretence of persuasion and ease evaporating with the narrowing of his eyes. "I will have him dead, Grace. And you must be the one to do it."
"Noooo!" Sobs tear from her throat as her hand lifts of its own accord. She tries to stop it but her will is paralysed. Her body is not hers any longer; it is only an instrument of his twisted desires.
She watches as though a shocked bystander. Takes her knife and weighs it carefully in her hand. Brings it down in a single, powerful blow; slicing through his chest.
Roman offers no resistance, just stares at her in mournful surprise. A single tear sparkles in the dim light as it rolls over his cheek and drips onto the pillow. Her own tears drip from her jaw, mingling with the blood that wells from the wound in his chest.
Switch.
Laughter. So manic that the answering bile burns her throat. Orpheus stands beside Stefano, still giggling; his mad eyes flashing sadistically. The knife is somehow in his neck again, sticking out at a crazy angle. Blood bubbles from the wound.
A wet, spongy, uncomfortable warmth in her hands makes her look down. A red mass of flesh pulses weakly between her fingers. Roman's heart. His life in her grasp.
Her lips move soundlessly as she looks at him in abject horror.
His mouth opens and he croaks. "Doc... S'okay Doc."
"No!" She sobs wildly, the tears blurring everything. It's not okay. It will never be okay again.
"Give it to me, Grace." Stefano rumbles, malevolence incarnate. He rubs his hands together and then holds them out eagerly. "Give it to me."
Against her will, her hands move, jerk towards him, blood dribbling in visceral streams down pale forearms. Her lips move, desperate, pleading. Begging. Soundless, punctured only by loud, hiccupping sobs.
Switch.
In his hands, the form is no longer a shapeless lump of muscle. It stretches out a tiny arm with five perfect fingers. They reach and close on emptiness. A shrill cry erupts from the newborn as Stefano hands the bloody bundle on to Orpheus. Orpheus laughs again and then melts away into the blackness.
"Nooooo!" She screams now; screams bloody murder. "NO Stefano! Give him back! Bring him back!"
"Yes!" He hisses as she scrambles from the bed and flies at him, hands flailing. "You are *mine* Grace. *I* choose your life. I dictate your future. You have no choice."
"I'm *not* yours," she screams blindly, raining ineffectual blows upon his imposing bulk. "I'm *not*. I love Roman. I *need* Roman! Give him back!"
"Marlena!"
His voice stops her and she swings wildly around, golden hair obscuring her vision momentarily.
The voice comes from him, but not from him. He lies stony, the blood congealing around the cavernous wound. His eyes stare unseeing, his face a ghostly gray. She moans as she reaches out for him. He is cold to her touch. Strange. Lifeless.
"Roman!" she cries. "Please.... I'm *sorry*. Oh God...." Heart-wrenching sobs rip from her throat as she leans over him, pressing a kiss to his ash-blue lips. Her tears splash on his face, trickling over slack planes of skin stretched over muscle and bone. His eyes are grey and dim as she presses her face to his. "Roman," she whispers, utterly broken. "Please don't leave me."
Switch.
Hands grab her arms and drag her away from the bed. She struggles vainly as she is turned to face Stefano. "Roman is *gone*!" he tells her viciously. "He is dead and you are *mine* now, Grace. You belong to me, to do with what I will."
No!" She struggles violently, trying to break free of the invisible grip that holds her tight, iron fingers bruisingly tight, digging into chilled flesh.
Yes!" Stefano looms over her in the darkness, malevolence pouring off him in waves, so concentrated that she almost gags. "I made you, Grace, and I own you, body and soul. You will not defy me again!"
"I'm not Grace!" she screams at him, all the rage and confusion and agony of the past ten years exploding in a single sentence.. "I am *not* *Grace*, you bastard!
"Oh yes you are," he laughs pitilessly, "you will *always* be Grace. Deep down you will always crave what I can offer you. The freedom and the power of being your own woman. To take what you want, from whom you want. All you owe is your loyalty to me. The rest is yours to take."
"No!" she screams. "NO!"
Switch.
"Marlena!" His voice seems to fill every single corner of her room as it slices through her awareness. She struggles for breath as she looks around wildly.
"Roman!" she cries frantically. "ROMAN!"
"Doc, it's okay," he croons, words rising and falling and washing over her like waves. "Wake up. You're having a bad dream, baby. Wake up, you're safe now."
Gasping, sucking in breath like her life depends on it, her eyes snap open as she sits bolt upright in her bed.
She's in her bedroom still, but sunlight pours in through the windows, splashing across the floor in bold strides of golden light. The voile curtains flutter lightly in a warm breeze and Roman is by her side, his hand on her arm.
"You okay baby?"
"Don't touch me!" she scrambles back against the head of the bed. "Oh God, don't..." she gasps for breath, struggling for air in between hiccupping sobs.
"Marlena," Roman reaches out to her, but stops short as she holds up her hands, blindly flailing at him. "Doc, *listen* to me." She's frightening him now. She's so distraught that he's not even sure she knows where she is or what's happening, let alone that it's him there with her. "Doc, it's me, Roman. You're safe. Everything's okay, you were just dreaming, that's all. It was all just a bad dream."
He'd taken her home last night and put her to bed immediately. She was exhausted but with the dreams she's been having lately, he'd been afraid that a normal night's sleep wouldn't be nearly enough. So he'd given her a tranquilizer that the doctor in
This has been the worst one yet. It has taken him nearly thirty minutes to wake her and even now she doesn't seem to be fully awake and aware of what's real and what's the fiction created by her subconscious demons.
"Don't!" she sobs as he tries to touch her again. She bunches herself up against the pastel florals of the pillows and hugs her knees to her chest. "Oh God! Oh God... oh god... oh god..." She shuts her eyes tightly and presses her face against her knees, rocking slightly as she moans into the powder blue satin of her nightgown.
"Marlena." His voice is firm now but his jaw is clenched tautly as he stares at her helplessly. "Marlena, please... let me help you sweetheart. Talk to me. It's just a dream, you can't let it have any power over you."
She doesn't seem to hear him and he rubs the palm of his hand against his forehead, troubled by her disconnection. She can't keep on like this. They can't keep on like this, it's taking its toll on both of them. Marlena needs more help than he can give her. And he needs help... even if it's just advice, someone to tell him the right things to do, to say... She needs him so much and he's so terrified of doing or saying the wrong thing that sometimes he doesn't say anything at all. And he knows that's not right. She deserves more from him than ineffectual half-efforts.
"Baby?" He ventures forth again, reaching out a wary hand. "Marlena? Sweetheart? Talk to me. Tell me what just happened." He tentatively touches her arm and she flinches away from him, shrinking in on herself. But this time he doesn't allow her the luxury of pulling away from him completely. Instead, he keeps the contact with her and tightens his grip as he hears her intake of breath. "You're scaring me, Doc." There's a certain amount of pleading in his voice. "Come back to me sweetheart. You're here and you're safe and I'm with you. I'm not going to let *anyone* hurt you. Not Stefano, not *anyone*.
There's a pause, a moment of voluminous silence that seems to swallow them both. Then Marlena looks up at him.
It's almost as it if takes her a moment to register who he is and then the gathering tears magnify her cinnamon eyes, full of glittering grief in the morning sunlight.
Her chin trembles and the tears spill down her cheeks as she reaches out a quivering hand. Confusion masks her misery as she touches her hand to his bare chest and looks at him with questioning eyes.
"Doc?" he reaches out and tucks her dishevelled hair messily behind her ear. "It's okay, honey. I promise."
"Roman?" Her voice wavers and is filled with bewilderment and it cleaves through him like no other sound can.
"Yeah baby, of course it's me," he reassures her, wondering what the hell she could have dreamed that made her this terrified and disoriented. Truth be known, part of him is afraid to find out.
"Roman." Slow realization dawns on her beautiful face and then everything seems to fall into place and suddenly she's his Marlena again and she's here in the room with him once more. "Oh God! Roman!" She unfolds herself from her hunched position against the pillows and stretches out to him. He catches her in his arms and pulls her to him, folding her within his embrace and kissing her forehead and her hair with soft, fleeting kisses. "Oh Roman!" She presses herself against him, sobbing wildly as she touches her fingers to his shoulders and his neck and his face. Folding her arms around him, she kisses his throat and his cheeks, finally finding his lips with hers. Roman surrenders himself to the kiss as she sinks all her miserable desperation into the connection between them. Her face is wet and she still shakes but she feels utterly perfect in his arms and he is simply content to just be there with her and kiss her for as long as she needs it.
At long last, she pulls back, panting as she touches her fingers to her lips. She looks at him, drinking in his face, her eyes making a well-worn journey over the curves and planes of his features. Then, with an almost imperceptible shudder, she lays her hand against his torso drawing her fingers down from his throat to the waistband of his boxers.
She begins to look up to meet his eyes, but unable to, she closes them and looks away.
"What is it Marlena?" Roman asks gently. "Tell me about it. Maybe it will help."
"It won't help," she chokes back a hiccup. "Oh Roman..." She presses her eyes more tightly closed and her lips purse whitely as she struggles with her emotions. Clenching her fists, she takes a deep breath and blows it out. Then she swallows and deliberately opens her eyes to look up at him. "I can't tell you," she says in a deeply pained voice.
"Don't you think it might help?" he asks softly, his hand catching one of hers and enveloping it. "You keep holding all this pain inside you Doc, you keep trying to protect me, but it's not working. It comes out in the wrong way, it hurts you even more and I can't bear it." His words are a little more fraught with distress than he intended and when he sees her flinch, he feels even worse. "I can't stand seeing you *do* this to yourself."
"I don't..." the words stall in her throat and she shakes her head. "Roman, if I tell you..." tears obscure her intended explanation and she covers her eyes with her hand. Taking a long shuddering breath, she deliberately wipes the tears from her face and looks at him again. "I don't think I could bear the way you would look at me if you knew..."
"Hey," he tries a smile, but the result is wavering and uncertain, he knows. And even if he'd managed to make it convincing, he knows she wouldn't buy it for a minute. She knows him too well, can see under any veneer he tries to paste on for her sake. "Listen baby. I think, after last night... you *know* I don't care what you did. So why would... you can't help your dreams. Why would I care what you dream?"
"Because I k..." she dissolves into tears again. "I ki.... Oh *God*. Roman, *how* can you love me?"
"Hey," he leans forward and takes her face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. He fixes her with a gaze which is pure, concentrated azure passion, which teases the breath from her chest and then refuses to give it back. "I love you because you're the most *incredible* woman I've ever met." His declaration is as fierce as his expression and she shivers despite the warmth of the sun which is slowly creeping across the bed. "I love you because you changed my life, again and again. Because you gave me three beautiful children. Because you're brilliant and talented and you're everything I'm not, but you still love me anyway. I love you because you're not straightforward, because you're stubborn and you're ferocious and you'd lay down your life for your principles, and for your children.... and for me...." He sighs, recalling the sight of her dashing towards him. Golden hair flying, eyes wide in panic, the torn nightdress fluttering as she reached for him...
"Doc, you saved my life so many times. Down in
She swallows, closing her eyes as she tries to gain some kind of composure. The images from her nightmare keep feeding through her head, flashing in front of her eyes like it's on a repetitive loop set just to torture her.
"You d...don't get it," she stutters as she wraps her fingers around his wrists and pulls his hands down. "Roman, I...." She bites her lower lip, wondering how she can tell him this, how she can reveal to him the truth about what is happening in her head. How she can bear the look on his face. But she has to protect him. He has to know what Grace is capable of. He has to know the very worst. Steeling herself, she spits out the words, each one whittling away a little more of her defences and her composure. "Grace wanted to *kill* you. She thought about killing you, I don't know how many times, in those mountains."
"She didn't though, did she?" Roman asks softly. "She had every opportunity; she could have done it ten times over. But she didn't. And trust me; I know she thought about it. I'd catch it in her eyes sometimes when I'd turn around and find her looking at me. But I knew she wouldn't. She *couldn't* Marlena, because no matter how much she thought she hated me, you and I... we're linked. It doesn't matter who we think we are, what names we go by, deep down we're linked. We're two halves of a bigger whole, it's inextricable and Grace would no more hurt me than I could hurt you."
"But she did." Marlena feels his hands curl around hers and it is almost her undoing. She looks down at his hands, at his wrists which still bear the faded scars of the night spent trapped at the Salem Inn. "Roman, how could I have let her do that to you? After everything you went through at Maison Blanche, she knew that would kill you, to be manacled like that. She was deliberate, she wanted to break you, she wanted you to relive that hell."
"She was trying to punish me," Roman replies evenly, although his stomach is churning. There are moments from the past few months that he can't bear to think about, that cut too close to the bone and this is one of them. That time spend chained to the bed in the inn haunts him, it had come so close to sending him into the darkness and the thought of where they would be now if it had happened at that point is terrifying. "And she knew what would hurt me, yeah. But sweetheart, she didn't hurt me physically." He releases one of her hands and touches his fingers under her chin. He raises her head gently so that her eyes meet his. "That's what you're worried about now, isn't it? Grace was in your dream and she... what did she do? "
Marlena stares at him, every nerve in her body screaming with the horror of the vile things she just saw in her dream. "I can't tell you!" She shakes her head and distraught, she wrenches her remaining hand free of his grip. Scrambling away from him, she slips off the bed, half stumbling, half falling in her effort to put some space between them. Reaching for the window, she wrenches the window open and lurches onto the balcony. Gasping for air, she desperately tries to quell the urge to throw up as she leans against the railing.
"Doc!" She feels his hands on her upper arms and she struggles weakly as he spins her around to face him. "Doc," he says urgently, "it doesn't matter what Grace did in your dream. What you did. It was a nightmare. It was just a *dream*. It doesn't have the power to hurt me. And it doesn't mean that you have to feel even more guilty than you already do. All right, so what? In your dream, Grace killed me?" He shrugs imperturbably. He'd known from the beginning really, from the moment she'd woken up crying and shaking and scrambling away from him. There are not many things that could elicit that kind of extreme reaction from his wife. "Well, I'm still here. And I don't think any less of you, sweetheart. It's not who you are. Nothing bad is going to happen to me, okay baby? Least of all because of Grace."
"You don't *know* that." Marlena says helplessly.
"I *do* know that, Doc," he says fiercely. "You might not feel like you know or trust yourself right now, but I've got more than enough faith and trust in you for both of us."
"But...." She struggles to find an argument that will stand up against what he is saying, but he seems so strong and so sure of what he is saying. In the end, all she can do is cry. She's so tired of crying, so tired of feeling like this. Like she will never be able to stop crying. Like she'll never be strong again. Like she'll never be able to trust herself and be entirely sure who Marlena Evans Brady is.
"Roman, I've let you down so much..." her tears dribble over his fingers, but he ignores them.
"You've never let me down baby," he leans his head on one side and looks at her sadly. "You really think you've let me down?"
"The things that I did to you... That I let Stefano do to us, to our family," she gulps back an agonized sob. "I was pregnant Roman. I was *pregnant* and I let him kill my baby."
"You did what you had to do to survive," Roman tells her, a vein of steel sounding in his voice. "You... what he did to you Doc..." Tears well in his own eyes and he slides his hands down the side of her arms so that he catches her hands in his. "I don't know how you made it through that. I don't know how that didn't just crush you completely. You're the strongest person I've ever known but that... baby, that was too much even for you."
"I shouldn't have let him do it;" she cries angrily. "I should have been stronger than that. I should have...." She looks away to the blue sky beyond the penthouse, desperate for an answer to the questions that are pounding in her head. "Roman, what if that was our baby? What if I killed our child?"
She looks back at him and the horror and misery he sees etched across her face break his heart all over again. He's thought about little else all night as he has lain, watching her sleep. The same question had weighed heavy on his mind and his conscience. For him it is not a question of Marlena ‘killing' the child. He truly believes she couldn't have done anything else given the situation. He wouldn't have wanted her to do anything else. She was utterly broken and she needed to survive, however she could.
No, this was Stefano's doing. He had engineered the meetings between Grace and Orpheus. And he had contrived to arrange the scenario in which Orpheus might find Marlena alone, knowing full well the extent of the madness which had claimed him. A baby that resulted from Stefano's manufactured rape would have been a bonus, a final nail in the proverbial coffin for the beautifully stubborn Marlena Evans Brady, and Stefano had played that to maximum advantage.
He'd as much told John Black all this in the dank little basement room in Maison Noir. But what he *hadn't* told him was that the child had been his. And Roman Brady knows Stefano. Knows his games and his machinations and he knows with every fiber of his being that if the baby that the doctor's had terminated had been his, Stefano would have flaunted that fact in Roman's face. He would have used it as a further tool of torture to undermine John Black and wound the lurking Roman Brady. That he didn't, tells Roman that the baby was Orpheus'.
But he'd left Marlena with the niggling doubt that the baby might have been Roman's; a further means to punish and control her. He had to have known that the unanswered questions would haunt her mercilessly.
"That baby wasn't ours Marlena," he tells her in a hoarse voice. "I've thought about this and I know the old man. I know his bitter, twisted way of hurting people. Of hurting us. You know as well as I do that he uses the truth to destroy people." He tightens his hands around hers and leans forward slightly, nailing her to the railing with an intensity that leaves her shaken. "Doc, if that baby had been ours, Stefano wouldn't have been able to resist gloating about it. Even if he'd managed to keep quiet about it all these years... which I doubt he would have done, he would have been sure to bring it up in
Marlena swallows nervously, looking away as she tries to process this logic. Her guilt screams at her like a banshee, but Roman's words touch a nerve within her. They make too much sense for her to deny that he might be right.
"Look baby, if you need the proof, I'll ask Abe to get the FBI to go over the files with a fine tooth comb. The answer has got to be in there somewhere. But I'm telling you now, you were... that was Orpheus' baby and if I'm honest Doc, I'm *glad* Stefano talked you into getting rid of it."
"Roman-" She starts, her eyes flicking back to meet his.
"I'm sorry baby, but it's how I feel," he shrugs. "I couldn't bear the thought of you being tied to that psychopath. Children should come from love, not from violence and manipulation. And I know that you would have loved that child with all your heart and you would have been the best mother it could have asked for... but ultimately, every time you looked in it's eyes you would have seen that *animal* and what he did to you and it would have torn you apart." He curls his fingers and touches the back of them to her cheek. "I couldn't bear that, watching you deal with that every day for the rest of your life. It's bad enough seeing it now."
He looks so pained it makes her want to cry again so instead, she lifts her hand to lay it on his chest. And focuses everything she has into that one point where her hand touches him. It's where they are connected, where she can feel the throb of his heartbeat beneath her palm. It's comforting, it brings her even more into the here and now which is exactly what she needs. To listen to Roman and to feel his solidness and to just learn how to *be* again.
Sensing her change in mood, Roman tenderly covers her hand with his and leans his head on one side, waiting for her to look up at him. He knows she will; she always does. They know each other better than they even know themselves. It's intuitive. "I feel so helpless, baby," he croaks. "I want to take the pain away. I want to make it all better for you and I know I can't. I don't know if I'm doing or saying the right things and it scares me, the thought that I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't know if I'm making it better or worse."
"You could *never* make it worse." Marlena shakes her head sadly. "Oh Roman, don't you know that you're the only reason I'm still standing? You're the *only* reason I survived Stefano and Grace. You're the reason I'm still fighting."
"The kids too," Roman reminds her with a half-bitten smile. "They all need you Doc, just as much as I do."
"I know they do," she says in a small voice. "It was selfish of me to think otherwise. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Roman, putting you and the children through that yesterday... it was selfish and cruel." She sighs, pulling away her hands from his and turning back to the open doorway. The bedroom beyond is a dark reminder of her nightmares. Not just the one from this morning, but the one she had lived through as Grace. And the nightmares before that. Her eyes fill with tears and she dashes them away wearily. She is so tired of crying. So tired of the nightmares. Tired of running from them.
So tired of wasting time.
"Doc!" She can feel him behind her and she closes her eyes as she feels him reach out to her. There is an exquisite pain in her chest as she senses him hovering behind her, his hand close enough to touch but yet lingering, waiting for something indefinable. And then he's stroking her hair, his body fitting behind hers like they are two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle falling into place. She struggles for breath, feeling dizzy as he slides his arms around her shoulders and buries his face in her hair.
"None of this is your fault," he tells her soothingly. "None of it. You've been through hell, sweetheart. We both have. And it's time to stop apologizing for it. We're spending so much time questioning the past; we're letting Stefano steal even more time from us. Let's deal with this and then let's start living again. Start living in the present, start making our future. Hmmmm?"
"Do you really think it's that easy?" She asks wearily. When he's this near, things seem so simple. His words seem like gospel truths, like his words can make her reality. She wants so badly to believe that they can do as he says, that they can deal with this and move forward. But she's terrified too. Terrified that she will fail him again. That she will commit to a course of action that she's incapable of following through and that she will fall and open his scars once again.
"I don't think it's easy at all, Doc." He reaches for her hands and brings them up in front of her, his wrists crossed over hers. He kisses the sweet spot under her ear, where it meets her jaw and she shivers in his embrace. "You need someone to talk to Marlena. Someone who can help you better than I can, who has the tools to help you deal with what's happened to you."
"No!" She shakes her head, clearly distressed at the thought. "Roman, I can't talk about all this to a stranger. How could I tell a stranger the things I've done? How could I sit there and... . No." She shakes her head again. "No, I can't. Please don't ask me to do that."
"Doc," Roman spins her around to face him. "There must be someone. There must... you must know someone... a colleague? Someone that you trust."
"A colleague?" She looks at him as though he has gone a little bit crazy and she is a little bit close to hysteria. "A colleague? Roman, no! I can't... I know they're going to stop me practicing, but... you know, a stranger would be bad enough. But a colleague...." She shakes her head again, blinking away the tears. "Roman, I couldn't *bear* it."
"But..." He shakes his head in frustration and letting go of her, he runs his fingers through his hair. "Doc, I don't know what to *do*. I don't seem to be any help to you. You're just... these nightmares are getting worse and you're torturing yourself endlessly over things that are done and finished. And I want to make it stop, I want to help you but I don't know *how*!"
"Oh Roman, you do help me!" she cries. Sighing, she lifts her hands, framing his weary face with gentle fingers. "Honey I know this is hard for you, please don't think I don't understand what this is doing to you."
"And that's adding to your guilt Doc." His brow furrows and his eyebrows knit together while his impossibly blue eyes spell out his anguish. "It's like a vicious circle and I don't know how to break it. I need some *help* here. I need," he exhales and looks away, biting his lower lip. "I don't know, maybe *I'm* the one that should be talking to someone."
Marlena remains stock still for a long moment, looking at him, as though he's a sudden revelation. She needs to stop hurting him, she needs to stop making him pay for her sins. This is as much about what he needs as what is right for her. And he needs her to spread the load. It's too much for him, she's expecting too much of him. She's being selfish again and she can't be selfish any longer. He deserves far more than that from her. He deserves the very best she can give him, and that's not self-recrimination and blame and guilt and endless tears. He's right, if they are going to survive this, she *has* to put the past behind her and she has to do it fast.
"I think maybe..." she swallows nervously, her tongue and throat parched. "Maybe I could call Laura? Do you think she... she might come if I asked her to?" Her chin trembles and she curls her fists in front of her. "So I could speak to her I mean. So she could....." She presses her shaking lips together and looks away, her eyes shimmering with tears. When she looks back, she is no more composed but she continues anyway. "I'm so sorry Roman. I know I need help. I'm just... I'm afraid. It... with therapy... things usually get worse before they get better." She tries to compose herself, flicking away her tears with shuddering fingers. "But I don't know that I can face things getting any worse than they already are."
"Hell, I know you're scared, baby," he reaches out for her and pulls her into his arms, hugging her close. "But you are stronger than any person I've ever met and I *know* you can make it through this. You've made it this far, the rest... that's gotta be a cinch, right? And I promise you sweetheart, I'll be there with you, every step of the way. Wherever, whenever you need me. I'm not going anywhere, I promise you that. Okay?"
Burying her head against his shoulder, she nods mutely.
Not prepared to take that for an answer, Roman pushes her away slightly so that he can see her face. "*Okay*?" he repeats hopefully.
"Okay," she whispers with an almost imperceptible nod. Then she takes a deep breath, her heart pounding jumpily as she slips her arms around his neck. "Okay. You're right. Of course you're right. We can handle this togeth-"
She starts as the doorbell sounds and she looks back at Roman in confusion which is tinged with a sudden serving of inexplicable fear.
"S'okay baby," he smiles, rubbing her arm soothingly. "It's probably just the kids. Eric called earlier, said they were going to drop around and see you. Hope that's okay?"
"The kids?" She looks slightly confused.
"Yeah. Eric and Belle. Maybe Sami too I guess. Do you think you're up to seeing them?" he asks gently. "If not, I can send them away. Tell them to come back tomorrow, if you would rather."
"Oh," she shakes her head as though she has suddenly realized what he is saying. "Oh, no. I..." she flutters her eyelashes as she looks up at him nervously. "I should see them, shouldn't I?"
"You don't have to do anything you're not ready to do Doc," he says firmly. "If you need to take some time, the kids will have to understand. If you want some time on your own, or if you want me to just be here with you, just say the word. Anything, just let me know what you need, okay?"
A small smile plays across her lips, her eyes softening as she brushes away the lingering tears from her cheeks. "I have everything I'll ever need, right here."
She curls her arm around his neck and leans forward. "Everything," she repeats softly, her eyes intent on his. He smiles at her and with the back of his fingers, he lifts the bangs where they fall across her eyes.
"I can't tell you," he slips his arm around her waist and pulls her closer, so that her body melts into his, "how *good* it feels to hear you say that, Doc. For a while there, I think I'd lost all hope that I'd ever hear you say anything like that again." She opens her mouth to speak, but he presses his fingers to her lips with a gentle chuckle. "Didn't I say you weren't allowed to apologize any more?" he asks, raising his eyebrows. "If I didn't, I should have. I'm just trying to say...." He sighs, his fingers brushing her cheek, tracing the line of her cheekbone. His eyes are intent on hers, on just drinking her in and as the smile fades from his face, Marlena feels her temperature rising, her heartbeat stuttering and jumping.
"I feel *so* damn grateful to have you back. And I don't ever intend to let you go again, okay?"
"Oh..." She is caught, all words and all rational thought suddenly taking their leave so she is left defenceless, just stripped beneath his gaze. "Ok.. okay"
The doorbell rings again and Marlena looks at the bedroom door, clearly flustered.
"Oh man. The kids." Roman shrugs regretfully, moving back so there is a little more space between them. "What do you want me to do? Tell them to come back later? Tomorrow?" He strokes her cheek. "Just say the word, Doc."
"No." she gives him a wavering smile which is utterly unconvincing. "No. I should see them. They're... It's our kids, right?" Her smile broadens now, reaching her eyes so that they sparkle. "I want to see them. I think.... I think it would be good for me. For all of us."
"You sure?" Roman raises his eyebrows and looks at her his expression conveying both concern and a distinct lack of conviction about her ability to deal with yet more drama.
"I'm sure," she nods and leans forward to kiss him softly. "You go down and I'll just get into something..." she looks down at the pale blue satin that clings almost inappropriately to her curves. "A little more presentable." She gives him an almost embarrassed smile. "I'll follow you down shortly, okay?"
Roman pauses for a moment, as if attempting to determine that she is fully committed to what she is saying. She stares back and it is only when she raises her eyebrows slightly that he breaks and nods with a smile. "Okay sweetheart. If you're sure. We'll see you in a little while."
"You will," she gives him a smile, the kind of smile that reaches straight into his chest and twists his heart till it aches with a sweetly exquisite pain that makes his knees feel like water. He stands stock still as she kisses him and then tossing him another smile over her shoulder, she turns for the bathroom, that nightgown clinging in ways that make him more frustrated than he has any right to be.
He watches her disappear from sight, all sky blue and gold, softness and steel. She's the most incredible, most unbelievably strong woman he's ever known. And yet she's also the most vulnerable, gentle, loving and wounded woman.
He'll never stop trying to figure her out; never stop being surprised, astounded and delighted by her. He'll never stop being frustrated by her.
He'll *never* stop loving her.
Dear *god* he loves her. More than it should be possible that a single, simple man could love a woman. It consumes him, burns within him and makes him into so much more than he could be without her. And he will do whatever it takes; *whatever* it takes to make sure she comes through this, that she recovers and heals and rebuilds her life.
He hears the drumming of the shower as the water spatters against the tiles and regretfully, he turns and heads for the stairs....