"Daddy!" Belle flies through the door, flinging herself into her father's arms with a happy squeal.
"Hey Izzy, baby," Roman laughs, hugging her tightly to him. "It's so good to see you." He looks over her shoulder to where Eric stands in the doorway. "Hey kid." He greets his son with a hint of awkwardness. It's hard to know where he stands with any of the children after last night. Things were said, sure, but in the cold hard light of day it's hard to know what his reception will be.
"Hey..." Eric pauses and then as if forcing himself, "Hey dad." And behind him, Sami appears, her face stony and her eyes as hard as flint. Roman's heart sinks as he sees her. That's his answer, then. Belle, his baby; Eric, trying to do what is right and Samantha, as always, the stubborn thorn in his side. The child that he cannot seem to reach, no matter how hard he tries. The one that makes him feel like he failed as a father. As a human being.
"Listen," he says hoarsely, directing his attention towards Eric. "If that feels too weird, if you don't... well," he pauses, tripping over his own tongue in an effort to make his son feel comfortable. This is so important to him; he doesn't want to push them. He doesn't want them to accept him as their father unless they truly believe it in their hearts. Unless they truly want to. Anything less than that would simply be a farce and would mean nothing. It would just be more lies and he's had his fill of lies.
He sighs, loosening his arms and releasing Belle. She doesn't take her leave though. Instead, she stands alongside him, with her arm around his waist and faces Eric and Sami. "I guess what I'm trying to say... You don't have to call me Dad. Not until you're ready. Not unless you really want to. I don't... I'm not interested in forcing any of you to believe anything you're not ready to believe. To do anything you don't want to do. You call me whatever you want to call me, okay?"
"Ooookay..." Eric says carefully. "And if I haven't figured out what I want to call you yet?" He shrugs, the gesture designed to carefully cover his confusion and distress. But Roman sees right through it, can see how hard the kid is struggling with all of this and his heart goes out to Eric. This is hard on all of them, but Sami and Eric have suffered more than most. They've had so much torn away from them at such vulnerable ages; it's not really surprising that either of them are screwed up.
Truth be known, he's surprised that Eric is as normal and well adjusted as he is. And maybe that's as much down to him spending his teenage years with Marlena's parents as anything. He knows it hadn't been Marlena's choice. It certainly wouldn't have been his first choice, but he can hardly blame the kid. Thrust into a new family with a mother and a father he didn't know, he had chosen the opposite route to Sami. Where she had embraced her new father a little too enthusiastically, Eric had chosen to remove himself from the family. He had found the stability he'd craved with the grandparents he'd known all his life, half a country away in
Roman had never discussed it with Marlena. After all, when he became John Black again, they weren't his kids any more. He'd had no say in their upbringing, no part in the choices that were made regarding the children he'd raised and loved as his own.
He knows, like he knows so much about her that is unspoken, that she wasn't happy about Eric staying in
Roman can understand why. He might not have liked it either; he might have missed Eric more than he could ever have expressed to her or to anyone but in a lot of ways, he's glad. At the very least, it might make this transition a little easier. After all, Eric was never particularly attached to Lamont as Roman. Not like Samantha was.
"If you don't know..." He shrugs. It's something, he supposes. Eric's not dismissing him out of hand which means he's thinking about it and he's not completely averse to the idea of Roman being his father. Roman can live with that for now. "Well, I guess I don't really know what to tell you. I just don't want either of you to think you have to pretend to feel something if you don't feel it. Just to make me happy."
"Well, that's kind of you." Sami says acerbically, coming to stand behind Eric in the doorway. Her arms are crossed defensively, the glitter on her pink t-shirt peeping out from behind tanned arms. "But honestly, I don't think we need your permission to make our own choices any more."
"Sami-" Roman starts.
"Look John, I know how you feel about me." Her face is hard and impassive, her eyes flashing ice blue. "You made that quite clear last night, down on the pier. So why don't we cut the crap huh? I'm not doing anything to make you happy. I'm just here for my mother. So where is she?"
"Sam!" Eric snaps angrily.
"Don't worry about it kid," Roman says wearily. "I've heard it all before." He's so utterly tired of Sami's about faces that he's not even sure he can find it in himself to fight her any more. Sami is going to do what Sami wants to do, no matter what any of them say. "Your mother..." he tenses slightly and Belle looks up at him in concern.
"What is it Dad?" she asks. "She's not...?" she trails off awkwardly, unsure how to phrase her question and Roman is left wondering what it is that she's really asking. Not threatening to give herself into the police again? Not drowning in self-hatred and guilt? Not struggling with every breath to keep herself together?
"She's okay Izzy," he answers all her unspoken questions with that simple answer. "She's just a bit fragile. She had a hell of a nightmare this morning..." he swallows tightly, thinking of the way she had flailed at him and then shuddered uncontrollably in his arms. How she can go through that torture every night and still function, he's not quite sure. He's not sure she can for much longer either, come to that. He only hopes that she will do as she promised and call Laura Horton. She needs more help than he is capable of giving her and if she doesn't ask for it, he might be forced to do it for her. "It left her very shaken. She just... she needs some love and some support right now. She needs to know that we all love her and we're here for her, no matter what."
"Of course we're here for her," Sami retorts angrily. "What the hell do you think last night was about?"
"When it comes to you Samantha," Roman shakes his head wearily, "quite honestly, I'm damned if I know."
*
It's silent in the penthouse bedroom as Marlena emerges from the ensuite bathroom. A salmon pink towel wrapped around her body and towelling her hair with another, she stands in front of the mirror regarding herself critically. She's tanned and toned and probably in the best shape she's been in for years. Those weeks in the woods were certainly good for something other than driving Roman crazy.
She can't help but smile as she thinks of him, chopping wood under the burning hot sun. Grace had thrown everything she had at him and she had almost broken him then. Almost, but not quite. Not like she had in that grimy hotel room, in the fetid backwaters of the south. In the languid draining heat, she had found his weakness, stripped away his defences and she had claimed her prize.
Marlena remembers every excruciating moment of it. It's like staring through a broken window at the actions of another her. A her that is intent on pleasure and pain in equal measure. She can see her own hands, hear her own voice but it's not her. Not the her that she is now, anyway. Not the her that loves Roman and would never, *ever* hurt him.
Marlena sighs and pulls the towel from her hair. She drops it next to her feet, her eyes caught by her reflection in the mirror again. Those eyes are familiar and at the same time, they are like those of a stranger. Someone she doesn't care to know, or understand. Someone who scares her. She runs her fingers listlessly through wet strands of burnished gold.
What had Roman seen then? Had he really thought it was her? Or had he given in because he was tired of fighting? Or is the real question the one that she's too afraid to ask? That on some level, he'd given in because he'd wanted Grace? Wanted her obvious sexuality, wanted her aggressiveness. Wanted *her* and not Marlena?
He *had* wanted her. Marlena has no doubt of that. She remembers the way he'd looked at Grace, the lustful glances from heavy-lidded eyes. The touches a little too lingering. The disgust with himself as he'd reacted to her advances.
Marlena knows on a rational level that it's *her* he'd wanted. Grace *was* her, after all. But on another, more visceral level, she can't help hearing Stefano's sinuously velvet words echo in her ears.
I wonder if now you can forget Grace. If you can ignore the moments you had with her. She was... rather different from your lovely wife, no?
She stares at herself for a moment longer, studying her face pale in an almost detached manner. Then she turns away, suddenly feeling nauseous. She doesn't even recognize herself any longer, let alone have a clue who Marlena Evans Brady is. She'd felt so strong, so sure of herself when she had walked into that jail in New Orleans, but in a few short minutes Stefano had stripped away all the pretence she had carefully fabricated. He had splintered the brittle façade and exposed the insecurities and doubts she'd been shielding from Roman and from herself. Doubts that are still haunting her. Like Stefano haunts her dreams.
She doesn't doubt him. He's coming for her all right. She doesn't know where, she doesn't know when, but he will be coming for her.
For the final showdown.
She rubs her fingers across her aching forehead the skin stinging beneath her fingers. Every nerve is on edge and for a moment, she feels like screaming. The feeling is only exacerbated as she turns back to the bedroom, a space of familiarity and strangeness. A space that was once safe.
Once. It seems like a long, long time ago.
Now, it's just full of reminders. And it's not just Grace. It's everything that has happened here over the years. It's become overwhelming. A space that should be her retreat and her haven has become a place of conflict and fear. It has invaded her nightmares and she no longer feels comfortable here. She no longer feels safe. If she ever really felt safe at all.
Roman had made a cursory round of the room after he had brought her home and put her to bed. But he hasn't erased the deeper vestiges of Grace, the scars she's left on Marlena's home. Her life.
Not that she expects him to. No-one can do that. Those scars run too deep. She will always see them, knows that she will always feel them, no matter how far she moves beyond this point. Grace, the things that Stefano did to her, have irretrievably fractured her life and nothing will ever be the same as it was.
Taking a deep breath, she moves to her armoire and opens it. It doesn't disappoint her expectations. None of her familiar clothes are here. The armoire is filled instead with flimsy silk and lace garments. With skirts too short and blouses too scanty. She fingers the beautifully inappropriate outfits with almost appalled curiosity and wonders how on earth her family and friends could have possibly missed such an obvious warning that all was not well in her world.
Her fingers skim a crumpled gold dress. It looks vaguely familiar and she pulls it out of the cupboard. It is halter-neck and is split to the thigh and as she looks at it, she is suddenly assaulted by memories. Craig Wesley's darkly jealous face. Roman grabbing him by his lapels. Roman outside
Roman beneath her, hot and sweaty, metal around his wrists and a horrified confusion echoing in his eyes.
She drops the dress as though it has burnt her fingers and she backs away from it, colliding with the end of the sofa. Sitting down heavily, she drops her head into her hands.
Oh God.
OH GOD, Craig Wesley. She slept with Craig Wesley and then she'd admitted it in a letter to the hospital board. She'd not only destroyed her own career, she'd most likely screwed his in the process. How the hell is she ever going to face him or Nancy again?
And Roman. How could she have left Roman there at the
Roman is right, she needs to talk to someone, someone who can help her work out how to understand what she has done and how to prevent it ever happening again.
And right now, if she's going to stop hurting Roman and the children, she has to pull herself together and carry on as though none of this is constantly battering the inside of her head. She has to start being the strong, capable woman she knows she can be.
Marlena has some money laid aside, but they are going to need that to live on, at least until Roman finds work and she figures out what to do with the rest of her life. She can't afford to buy herself a whole new wardrobe, so she will have to salvage what she can from Grace's outfits and supplement that with some careful purchases of her own. The mere thought makes her feel a little sick with apprehension. Its one thing to ask her family to make a distinction between her and Grace. It's another all together to blur those lines by dressing in her alter-ego's clothing. But what other choice does she have? Since Grace took the money that wasn't Roman's, they're going to have to completely rethink the way they live their lives and where their priorities lie. Not that she necessarily thinks that's a bad thing. It's just going to be difficult for a while, that's all.
Taking a deep breath, she gathers the towel around her and moves back to the armoire. Pulling clothes out, she starts dropping them in two piles on the floor either side of her feet.
*
"Sam, why don't you just give the ‘tude a rest?" Eric bites angrily. "Jesus, what Mom and John have been through in the past few weeks.... Just give them a break will you?"
"I'm just being honest about my feelings, Eric," Sami retorts, her mouth pinched as she jams her hands more tightly under her upper arms. "You might be able to pretend you're okay with all this-"
"All right you two." Roman steps up and puts his hands between the bickering twins. "Eric, take Belle and go and get a drink or something will you? I want to talk to your sister here."
"My pleasure," Eric throws a final angry glare at his sister and takes Belle's arm. "C'mon squirt," he says hoarsely. "Come and remind me where Mom keeps stuff in this kitchen."
"Mom wouldn't have a clue where we keep half of anything," Belle manages a tinkling laugh, despite the obvious tension in the room. "You *know* she's banned from the kitchen."
Roman watches them until they have disappeared from sight and then he turns to his daughter. Sami glares back for a moment and then turns and stalks to the French doors. Roman waits for a moment and then follows her onto the balcony.
Standing in the doorway, he looks past her, over the roofs of the city to the distant hills behind. Everything is hazy and blue in the sticky mid-morning heat, but even the sluggishness of the day can't dull the sharpness of the anger and pain he holds inside himself. He feels as raw and vulnerable with his family as he ever has. They've all turned their backs on him at one time or another and to open himself up to that kind of pain again is frightening. But he'd done it last night. Sami's unexpected offer in the light of Marlena's desperation had crept in under his defences and he had allowed himself to hope, just a little.
He should have known better than that, really. He should have known that he was going to get burnt by his erstwhile daughter.
"What changed?" he asks gruffly.
"I'm sorry?" Sami's reply is tight and just a little too harsh to be natural.
"Between last night and this morning." Roman refuses to look at her, instead just continues to scan the horizon. "Last night, you said you wanted to try and get to know your father. To try and be a part of this family. This morning you're just here for your Mom." His voice threatens to crack and he grinds his teeth together for a moment, the muscles in his cheek twitching as he battles to maintain some kind of composure. "This morning everything is back to how it always was. I was just wondering what changed, that's all."
"I was...." Sami bites the inside of her lip, watching Roman carefully. "I.... nothing changed. I was just trying to get Mom to see sense last night. I would have said anything. You shouldn't have taken it seriously, John."
He looks at her now, his face tight with pain. "So when you said you wanted to make things right. That you wanted to be part of this family, that was a lie?" he demands angrily. "When you smiled at me; that was a lie too?"
"Look," she starts uncomfortably, "John, I'm sorry if you got the wrong impression-"
"Bullshit!"
Sami flinches at his outburst and pulls herself up so she is standing a little bit taller, every muscle tensed. Her mouth purses as she looks at Roman. "I'm sorry?" She repeats her earlier words, her voice harder now and more defiant.
"Cut the bullshit Samantha!" Roman yells angrily as he directs a furiously hurt look at her. "You're a hell of a liar, but you *can't* take back those things you said last night. You can't do it. You and I both know you meant it then. And then you went home and some time between then and now, you convinced yourself all over again that you hated me and that I couldn't *possibly* be your father. You convinced yourself of that so you could continue to be as nasty and hateful to me as you have been for the past ten years." He shakes his head, looking down at the table in front of him. "God, what the hell did I do to you Samantha? What did I do that made you hate me *so* much?"
"You split up my parents," Sami says in a choked voice.
"No.... oh no," Roman shakes his head and catches Sami's glance with his own pained azure gaze. "*No*. It's much more than that. It goes much deeper than that. It has to. Any normal person... what happened between your mother and I. It was almost ten years ago. You've grown into an adult with your own child since then Samantha. You've made your own mistakes, told your own lies." He points his finger at Sami angrily. "You couldn't and haven't ever lived up to the impossibly high standards you set for your mother, so I don't think it's that. I think it goes much deeper than that. And I want to know what it is."
Sami clenches her own jaw now, her lips thinning into a white line, her cheeks burning scarlet as she faces her once-father.
"You're wrong," she snaps angrily. "That's it. And that's all of it. You asked and I told you." She tosses her head, her hair falling in silken rivulets across her shoulders. She's defiant and almost flippant, as she always seems to be when faced with impossible situations. She's like a snake, she can slither out of the tightest corners with seeming ease, doubling back and retracing her tracks until she wears down her opponent with her deflections. "And anyway, I don't have to defend myself to *you*. I'm here to see Mom, and you have no right to interrogate me like this!"
Roman clenches his teeth together and breathes in deeply through his nose. He's trying almost desperately not to explode, not to take all his frustrations out on his daughter. That wouldn't be fair, but right now, she's making it extraordinarily difficult for him to maintain any kind of self-control.
"Samantha, whether you like it or not," he carefully closes the door behind him, isolating the balcony from the rest of the apartment. "I am married to your mother. I am and will remain part of her life. And right now, she needs my help and she needs your help and she needs us not to be at each other's throats. She needs us to work together to support her through this."
"How many times do I have to tell you?" Sami demands resentfully, "I'm here for my mother. That's all I'm interested in."
"Then for God's sake, start acting like an adult and at least make an effort with me here," Roman exclaims, his anger and hurt getting the better of him.
"Why should I, when all you do is hurl abuse at me?" Sami retorts furiously.
"I'm trying to get some *sense* out of you," Roman feels like he's at his wits end. "I've tried every tactic I can with you Sami. I've tried being nice to you, I've tried being supportive, I've tried just waiting for you to get over your anger. I've tried and tried to understand you and I just can't. You either lie to me or you simply won't talk to me and I don't know what else to do. So now all I'm left with is frustration and anger."
Sami presses her lips together and looks at him for a moment and then she looks away over the city as if thinking about his words. Unfolding her arms, she jams her hands in the pockets of her jeans before she looks back at him. "Look," she says, but he can tell the deliberately easy manner in which she speaks is an effort for her. It's not real, like so much about her is not real and honest. "We can be civil in front of Mom. If that's what you're worried about, I can do that. I promise you, I won't do anything to upset her." She shrugs nonchalantly. "I know she needs our love and support right now and I am here for her. So I'll be nice to you for Mom's sake, okay?"
"*No*!" Roman thumps the wall beside the door with his furled fist and Sami jumps at the unexpected show of aggravation. "No Samantha, it's *not* okay. That's not *enough*. It's not enough for me. Not after last night." He turns tortured eyes on her, his jaw quivering with the effort of keeping his emotions in check. "I *know* what I saw. I know what I felt from you last night and I want *that*. You were this close." He presses his thumb and forefinger together. "We got *this* close to connecting, to actually embarking on something worthwhile." He stops and shakes his head. "I want my *daughter* back, dammit! I want to know why I lost her and I want her *back*."
"I am *not* your daughter!" Sami replies fiercely.
"You were once," Roman reminds her plaintively.
"That was nothing but a DiMera *lie*," Sami cries hastily. "And this is just... it's another one of his lies. He's doing this to Mom and to us and you're *letting* him, John! You're torturing us all and for what? So you can feel like you belong somewhere? Well you don't belong with us!" Her cheeks are red as she curls her fingers into her palms. "John, just leave us alone. Just leave *me* alone!"
She turns away from him and wraps her arms around herself. It is clear that she wants to escape from the balcony, but Roman is blocking her only exit.
"No." He shakes his head. "No Samantha, it's not lies and you *know* it. You don't want to believe I am your father because.... *Why*?" His anger and anguish sound in his gravelled voice. "What the hell did I do to you? Why is it *so* damned awful, the idea of me being your father?"
"You took my dad..." Sami‘s voice is choked as she turns her head to look at him. Strands of gold drift across her face and she pulls them back with her fingers, her eyes eerily steady on his face. She sounds so strong and so certain it's almost breath-taking. "You took his place; you took his family and his life. You *stole* our childhood."
"*Bullshit*!" Roman explodes with rage and Sami flinches at the unexpected fury directed at her. "That is utter bullshit, Samantha. You and I both know that if I hadn't been in
"Oh *please*!" Sami spins around, her eyes flashing electric blue. "You were acting out some little fantasy... Stefano had you programmed to be my Dad... and all the while, my father was *rotting* on some island in the middle of *nowhere*. He lost *everything*, his wife and his kids and his home. And then when he came back, you tried to take everything from him again!"
Roman gives a short, pained laugh. The irony of what Sami is saying is almost too much to bear. That she will still afford that animal Lamont her sympathy and loyalty after everything she has heard is almost more than he can bear.
"Tried to take everything away...?" he shakes his head in amazement. "Do you have *any* idea how hard it was for me to watch him walk in and take everything from *me*? Do you have *any* idea how much it killed me to step aside and watch him become your father and Marlena's husband?"
"Guess you forgot that last bit quick enough when it suited you," Sami spits nastily. She's clearly finding it increasingly hard to restrain herself from making desperate stabs at the weak points in his defences. She knows him well enough to pinpoint them with unerring accuracy and it only serves to inflame the argument further. Roman is beyond being able to restrain himself. There are things he has needed to say to Samantha for years and the damn has burst now. She obviously hates him, his words aren't going to change that, so he's going to say what he feels and be damned for it. He has nothing left to lose where Sami is concerned.
"I *never* stopped loving your mother," He growls furiously. "I couldn't bear seeing her with *him*, but I buried my feelings as deep as I could because I wanted *so* much for all of you to be happy. But damn, I'm sorry Samantha, I'm human. I lost everything and then I lost Isabella and I hit rock bottom. I couldn't see the way out and it was your mother that was there to save me, once again. She was there to pick up the pieces, like she always was and always is. And then we got stuck in that damn pit. We thought we were going to *die* and... well, if I was going to die then there was no-one I would have rather been with...." He grits his teeth together, thinking of the moment he had realized Marlena was in that hell-hole. And the sight of her covered in grime and all bruised and battered. She was possibly the most beautiful thing he had seen. How can anyone understand what they have been through? The trauma and the desperation and the being there for each other, it has bound them together so strongly that nothing will ever break them apart.
"We *had* to be honest about how we felt." He continues, ignoring Sami's dirty glare. "Because if you can't be honest when you're facing death, then there's not really much point in fighting to live. And you know what?" He points at her angrily. "I'm so damn *sick* of apologizing to you and hearing your mother apologize to you and beg your forgiveness. What happened was *not* to hurt you or the man we though was your father. I didn't set out to take anything away from anyone. I just couldn't stop *feeling*.... I couldn't stop *loving* your mother. And we were *human*. We stumbled and we made mistakes that, you know.... I don't even *want* to take back. Loving Marlena was probably the only damn thing I did *right* during that time."
"What, so Isabella and Brady were a mistake?" Sami asks snidely. She tosses her blonde hair over her shoulder and unfolds her arms. Her hands find her hips and she stands there confrontationally, daring him to open up and express the truth. She wants to elicit the truth about how he really feels; the disdain, anger and downright hatred that he harbours towards her. Maybe if they finally have an *honest* exchange, they can at least get to a place where they can agree to tolerate each other without this pathetic pretence at love and family building.
"Don't twist my words Samantha," Roman warns her in a low, dangerous voice. "Don't try and manipulate me. You *know* I loved Isabella, but that.... " he exhales with the realization of the words he has never said audibly before. "Those feelings were *never* anywhere in the league of the depth of love felt for Marlena. Isabella was the one thing that kept me sane when I lost all of you and I will always be grateful to her for that. And yes, she deserved better than me. She should have had a man that could give his whole heart to her like she did to me. I always reserved far too much of myself for Marlena and for you kids, and I think deep down she knew that but she loved me anyway and for that reason, I was a lucky man."
"Bet she'd be thrilled to hear that," Sami exaggeratedly rolls her eyes. "Gimme a break John. You couldn't *wait* to play happy families with Isabella. You made that quite clear."
"*What*?" Roman can't believe his ears. "What... why would you say that?"
"My father was barely through the door when you took off. Do you know how that felt for Eric and me?" Sami demands bitterly, her eyes shining with a strange glimmering light. "Our dad, the man we thought was our Dad, that we'd grown up with, suddenly closed the door behind him and we were left with these *strangers*."
"Hang on a minute," Roman shakes his head , "So what now? I stole his family. Or I walked away from you. Which is it?"
"It's..." Sami stops short, her cheeks reddening. "You're twisting what I'm saying!"
"I'm not twisting anything Samantha," Roman yells angrily. "That's *you*. You're so busy looking for a reason to hate me, you've started contradicting yourself!"
"I'm... you wanted to know, and I'm telling you," she snaps stubbornly, her mouth pinched and her eyes narrowed. "Eric and me, we were innocent. All we ever wanted was to have a normal family. But first Mom went.... You told us she was dead, she wasn't coming back and then all of a sudden, she's walking through the door and we're expected to understand and welcome her without any kind of real explanation or question. And then you tell us this *other* guy is our real dad and you pick up your stuff and walk out of our lives." She stops, her lower lip and her chin quivering slightly with her all too familiar over-dramatic flair as she faces him. Folding her arms in front of her again, she takes a breath and continues. "My father *never* would have walked out on me when I needed him. He wouldn't have left me with a stranger. But you just.... *bam*, like that, you were gone!" Her eyes momentarily fill with tears, revealing what looks like a moment of true vulnerability. And then she musters up her righteous indignation again, her fists clenched and her face set in determined obstinacy.
"And *then* what? You screw my mother, you fuck up her marriage to my father. And *why*? If you wanted her so badly, if you loved her so much, like you say you do, why didn't you just *take* her? She left my Dad for you and then you waltzed off with Kristen *fucking* DiMera." Her voice is rising to a crescendo now as she builds into a genuine fury. "You took Mom from Dad and then you dumped her when you got bored. And you expect me to welcome you back into the family with open arms and pretend you're the best thing that ever happened to her? *You're* the reason she's in this mess and feeling so wretched in the first damn place!"
She's scrambling now, Roman can tell. She's looking desperately for reasons and memories that will justify her behaviour and her irrational anger at him. But he also knows that there's more than a grain of truth in what she is saying. In her scrambling, she is touching on deeper issues that she might not even want to admit to herself quite yet.
"You're right, you *were* innocent," Roman says quietly. "And I'm so sorry if I hurt you. If we hurt you. But you need to get a few things straight Samantha." His softness dissolves into steely determination. "I didn't walk out on you by choice. If I could have done anything differently... and believe me, I've thought about it over the years... I would have done it in a heartbeat. If I'd known how to fight for you, I would have done it. But I did what I thought was best for you at the time. I *thought*... I was led to believe that he was your father and that I didn't belong in your life. That I'd just be confusing you if I stuck around and fought for access to you. It would have hurt your Mom and it would have hurt you, no matter what you think. So I thought it was the right thing to do, as much as it hurt all of us. And yeah, now I know I was wrong and that kills me, to think of all the time I lost with you because of DiMera's lies. Because of that... the impostor he sent back. To know that he gets your love and loyalty and I get *nothing*, that DiMera took that away from me, that hurts." He thumps his fist against his chest, restrained tears slipping from the corners of his eyes and melting into the wetness on his cheeks. "That fucking *kills* me, Samantha. So yeah, no-one regrets what happened more than me. I should have fought for you, I should have refused to believe them when they told me I wasn't Roman Brady, that I wasn't your Dad. I should have known it, should have trusted what my heart was saying to me when it was screaming not to walk away from you all. But I did and I'm sorry. I'm *really* sorry."
Sami says nothing, just stares at him, her eyes dry and bright and a small spot of red burning high on each cheek.
"But listen to me Sami, if you think *he* wouldn't have done that, wouldn't have walked out on you when you needed him..." his face darkens and his shoulders tighten perceptibly. "Samantha, he'd only been back a matter of months when he walked out on you and your Mom. He went to work on a police case, to find your Uncle Bo. Your Mom was beside herself, she needed him but the case was more important. He couldn't leave it to the Salem PD to find Bo," he tells her bitterly, "*he* had to go."
John had never understood Roman's willingness to leave his family after everything he'd been through. He knows if it had been him, if he'd made it back to his family after seven long years in DiMera purgatory, nothing would have ever been able to pry him away from Marlena and the children, not even his brother.
He'd watched bitterly from afar as ‘Roman' had walked away from his family and he had tried to offer Marlena the only comfort he could in the circumstances, his friendship. But it had killed him to see her in pain and for a long while, he'd harboured a great deal of anger and bitterness towards Roman for taking the incredible gift of his family for granted. It had seemed like he'd taken his family back from John and then he'd dumped them, the moment something better and more exciting had come along. And John had resented the hell out of him for it. Still does, truth be known. The knowledge that the man in question wasn't really Roman Brady only brings all those emotions back to the surface and magnifies them a hundredfold.
"And then," he continues, not allowing Sami the chance to argue the facts, "when your Mom went missing, when we were in that pit, he sent you to
"We w... we wanted...." Sami's face has faded into an ashen color and her voice is weak and unconvincing. "Dad was doing what was best for us. And we wanted to stay in
"*I* did what I thought was best for you, but you don't stand up for me, Samantha Gene. My best was never good enough for you, never won me your loyalty, did it?" He gives a short, bitter laugh, the sound harsh, like steel clashing against the stone walls of the penthouse. "When they found us, when your Mom recovered from that ordeal, she wanted you to come back, but you're right, you wanted to stay in
He aches for everything he has lost. And for everything Sami was. Everything she has lost. His sweet innocent little Samantha Gene. After Marlena had ‘died', she had been the sunshine in his life. Along with Eric and Carrie she had given him the reason he had needed to get up every morning, to carry on and forge a new life for himself without his beloved wife. And then she'd been taken from him and then at some point the sunshine became a raging thunder and it hurts. It hurts more than she'll ever be able to comprehend.
"It just about *killed* me when he came to
Sami's eyes fill with tears and as she shakes her head, the moisture drops from her lashes and skims her cheek before dripping from her jaw and spreading into dark pink patches on her t-shirt.
"Sami, we were *happy*." His voice holds a note of pleading that he doesn't like, but he's too tired and too close to the edge of reason to control it right now. "I was *so* proud to be your father. I went to your school plays and I taught you to ride your first bicycle. I held you when you cried, when you'd grazed your knee and when little Tommy Morton called you nasty names. I was your Daddy and *nothing* felt better than when you put your arms around my neck and hugged me tight and told me you loved me. *Nothing*." His voice is scratchy and rough and he is fighting the urge to cross the balcony and grab her and give her a good shake.
Part of him, the part that is immensely frustrated by his obstinate daughter, thinks she needs some sense knocked into her. The other part knows that won't help in the slightest. Sami is a lost cause and wishing won't change that. Saying the things he needs to say might at least help his sense of frustration. At least if he knows he's said everything there is to say, he can no longer blame himself for her wilfully deliberate misconstruction of their past. "I loved you so much." He says it as much for himself as anything. Because for once she is silent and he wants to get it out there. Wants to make it heard without argument or denial. "I know you don't believe me," he says softly, "but I *still* love you. You're my daughter and I love you. It's unconditional. I might not always approve of the things you do, but I'll *always* love you."
Sami doesn't say anything. She simply shakes her head and backs up against the balcony railing. Tears trickle down her pale cheeks as she stares at him. Her chin quivers again as she tries to find the words and Roman senses a vulnerability within her that he hasn't felt for a long, long time.
And then, almost as quickly as it came, it disappears and her jaw becomes firm and resolute and her fists clench into balls of pent-up rage.
"You don't love me," she says coldly. "You don't even know me. When have you spent time enough to even have a clue who I am? All you ever do is look down on me, disapprove of me and hate me for the things I've done." She tosses her head, golden hair flashing in the sunlight. "You can insult my father all you like and you can twist the past and tell whatever lies you need to, to Mom and to yourself, but I know what happened. And I know how it felt. I know who *really* loved me."
Roman stares at her in disbelief. He can't believe that even Sami can be this obtuse. It seems that she's desperate to hold onto her version of the truth at all costs and damn the truth or anybody else's feelings. She has to be right, or her carefully constructed world will crumble and she will be left with a reality which will be cold comfort to a girl that has done such terrible things in the name of the things she believes.
"You are incredible." He gives a tense little chuckle. "You talk about me twisting the past...?" His jaw sets and he gives it a moment's thought and then he advances on Sami. She leans hard against the railing as he reaches out and grabs her wrist.
"Ow, John, that hurts!" she cries as he pulls her to him.
"Nothing compared to the pain you've inflicted," he growls. "You want to see the past?"
"I don't want to see anything!" Sami resists as he drags her towards the door. "Dammit John! Stop it! You're hurting me."
Roman says nothing, simply flings the door wide open and roughly pushes her through into the living room. His fingers still wrapped around her wrist like a steel band, he propels her across the room and through the archway that leads to the study.
"Sit down!" he says gruffly, pushing her into the armchair by the desk. She sits frozen in shock and apprehension as he pulls a large volume and slams if down on the surface in front of her. She flinches as his hand swoops down and flips the album open.
"There!" He stabs his finger at the photograph. It sits alone on the page and is framed by an expanse of white. They are in the snow and Roman is crouching down, a huge grin on his face. Carrie stands behind him, her pom-pom hat jauntily askew on her head. On either knee sits a twin, both Sami and Eric bright-eyed and pink-cheeked in the crispness of the winter day. They all look so happy that it hurts. "You want to tell me that's a lie?" he demands in a strangled voice. "And what about...." He flips the page and there is another photo. This one was clearly taken at Christmas-time. Roman is sitting by the fireplace; Sami curled up in his lap. She's asleep and he is cradling her and kissing the top of her head. It's a sweetly intimate moment between a father and his daughter and it elicits a muffled sob from Sami.
"We *were* happy," Roman tells her huskily. "And I *did* love you. All of you kids. More than life itself."
Sami stares at the picture, unable to close her eyes or tear her gaze from the page. She thinks for a moment that the image of her father holding her might be burned on her retinas to stay there forever so that she can never escape it. Never escape the sweet sadness of it. Never escape the breathless pain that blossoms in her chest as she stares at the image of the man who clearly adores the child he holds in his arms.
"You still left," Sami's voice is little more than a halting whisper. The pain is growing now and the tears blur her eyes, smearing the image in front of her into a generous blur. "I loved you... I *worshipped* you... and you turned your back on me. You walked out that door and I didn't even *know* them. And I was *so* scared," she looks up at him, sapphire eyes glittering in the low light. "I was so lonely. I thought..." she swallows, almost choking on the grief and tears lodged in her throat. "I thought you didn't love me any more. How could you have left if you loved us? Why couldn't you fight for us?" Her voice is plaintive, only a whisper of her previous anger now dogging her.
"I wish I had." Roman says simply. "You have no idea how much I wish I had... with every breath in my body..." He shakes his head, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Look baby, I don't blame you for being angry at me. I'm furious at myself. I *should* have fought tooth and nail to hold onto you." His expression softens and he reaches a tentative hand. However, obviously thinking better of it, he falters and drops it. "My only defence is that I thought I was doing what was right for you and your Mom. I was trying to save you pain, but I was wrong. And if I could go back and do it all over again..."
He bites on the inside of his lip and then he turns to the bureau behind him. Pulling open a drawer, he pulls out a box. It's around about the size of a shoe box but as he takes off the lid, Sami sees it is filled with well-worn pieces of paper, stacked up and tied in bundles with ribbons. He takes one out and puts it on the desk in front of her. Ignoring the tears that still trickle down her cheeks, she looks at him curiously and he nods.
"Go on," he tells her. "Look at them."
She swallows, her heart hammering painfully in her chest. Then, steeling herself, she rubs her hand over her face, wiping away the tears. She can't break down in front of John. She *won't*. True, part of her wants to cut and run now. To run and run and not look back. But she can't. It's as though something is holding her here. Whether it's her pride or her stubbornness, or whether it's John's sheer force of will, she doesn't know. She only knows she can't leave.
And part of her doesn't want to.
With shaking fingers, she pulls the bundle towards her and pulls on the ribbon. It unravels and the pile topples. She unfolds the top piece of paper and smoothes it out. It's a worn child's picture that has clearly been folded and unfolded until it is almost falling apart. And at the top it bears a childish hand that she recognizes only too well.
To my Daddy. I love you. Samantha.
Oh. God.
She bites on her lower lip and leafs through the pile in front of her. There are more pictures, pictures she'd drawn at kindergarten and at school. Cards she'd picked for her father and filled with love and kisses. More photos. A note or two scribbled on the end of a letter from her grandmother in
She swallows, her throat tight and thick with grief and confusion. It doesn't make sense. That he kept all these things... why would he? *Why* would he?
"I know every one of them by heart." Roman says softly. "They kept me going through the dark times. I never forgot you Samantha. I never stopped loving you. I kept the memories close to me and I hoped that some day you could forgive me and I could share these memories with you again." He blinks away the tears. "Guess... you'll never forgive me, but this is as good a time as any." He turns back to the open drawer behind him. "Actually, there's something else..." he scrabbles around in the back of the drawer and pulls out another, smaller box.
"The Christmas after he came... I wanted to get you something special. To show you... to let you know I still loved you and I hadn't forgotten the bond we shared. I got you this... your Mom told me it was too much, that you wouldn't appreciate it. But I knew... I remembered you'd seen them and you wanted them so badly...."
He hands Sami the box. She looks confused as she takes it from him. Opening the box, she lifts out the antique hairbrush. She fingers the tarnished silver, staring at the beautiful item in her hands. Placing it back in the box, she looks up at her father.
"It's beautiful." Her voice wavers uncertainly as she wipes the tears from her face. "But I don't understand... why didn't you give it to me?"
Roman smiles sadly. "I did."
He looks down at beautiful antique silver dressing table set which lies nestled in the box in Sami's hand. He hadn't been rich then and they had cost him a small fortune. He'd wanted so badly to please his daughter, he'd been so desperate to see her smile. And then she'd tossed the offering aside in favor of lavishing her attention on the impostor.
He'd been absolutely crushed and for a moment, as he watched Sami climb onto his rival's lap, he'd felt a burst of jealousy and hatred so intense that it was overwhelming. And then he had turned and found Marlena looking at him, her beautiful eyes expressing all the sympathy and sorrow that he knew she'd felt for him. She had known how hard it was for him to let them go. But he had. He'd taken it as a sign. His children had moved on. They were happy, and in the end, that was all he wanted for them. To be safe and loved and gloriously happy.
The irony is almost too much to bear.
"But I don't..." Sami shakes her head, looking down at the silver as it glitters in the dim light. And then a glimmer of recognition, a half-remembered memory flirts around the edges of her consciousness. Opening the box and seeing the present she had wanted so badly. And then she had caught sight of her father, the disapproval and annoyance written all over his face. Feeling guilty and confused, she had dropped the beautiful brush and climbed onto her father's lap to give him a reassuring hug. She doesn't remember ever seeing them again.
Horrified, she looks up at Roman. He raises his eyebrows and nods with a sad, forlorn smile.
"I took them home." He tells her in a matter of fact fashion that makes her ache. "After you all left that day, your Granma found them among the wrapping paper. She gave them to me and I figured..." he sighs. "I guess I thought I'd give them to you when you were a little older. But then you... everything happened and I just put them away. I hoped that one day maybe we'd clear the air between us and that maybe we could... I don't know...." he shrugs helplessly. "I suppose I always hoped deep down that you'd remember how much I loved you and how much you loved me. I...." he flicks his hand at the pile on the desk in front of her. The photos. The pictures and cards. The letters. The gift. "I don't know what else to tell you Sami. I'm not lying. I'm sorry, I'm *so* sorry I hurt you. If you think I abandoned you, but that was never my intention. All I ever wanted was to be the best father I could..."
Sami looks at him and then looks at the cards and letters scattered in front of her. Peeking through them is the picture of her on his lap. Sleeping, curled up in his arms, safe and loved. She's shut them off for so long, locked off the memories and feelings. Her father had walked out and left her in the arms of a stranger. One moment, she'd been his little princess, and the next, she'd felt completely abandoned. For weeks, she'd cried herself to sleep when she knew Marlena and Roman couldn't hear. And she'd felt guilty. For still loving ‘John'. For the sadness in his eyes when he'd seen her with Roman....
So she'd shifted allegiances because it was the easiest and least confusing thing to do.
Her father hadn't turned his back on her. She'd turned her back on him.
The pain in her chest feels explosive now and she feels panicky and claustrophobic. Tears blur her vision once again, the cards melting into the photographs, until there is one great splash of white in front of her.
"Sami." His voice comes from her left and it's just enough. Just enough to topple her over the edge into full-blown panic. Scrambling, she pushes away from the desk, spilling paper and books to the floor by her feet. Blindly, she stumbles over them, desperately reaching for the door. She has to get away, has to escape this. The pressure, the weight on her chest, it's unbearable. It's...
She's just about at the door when he grabs her upper arms. "Sami, baby, it's okay," he says urgently. "It's gonna be okay."
"Stay away from me!" she screams. "Get away from me! Leave me alone!" she struggles weakly in his grip. Tears stream down her face and she pushes her hands against his chest ineffectually. "I hate you! I hate you, I *hate* you! Let me go! *Please* let me go. Oh God, *please* let me go!" She manages to tear herself from his grip and slams back against the wall, winding herself. The sobs are coming thick and fast now and she's crying in great choking sobs, the turmoil of emotions erupting from her in uncontrollable torrents of tears. Slowly, she sags and sinks down the wall, crumpling in a heap on the floor.
And then he is next to her, his familiar scent both comforting and terrifying. His arms, so tempting are a haven of hope and threaten despair. "C'mon baby," he pulls her into his embrace and kisses the top of her head. "It's okay, sweetheart. It's going to be okay."
"Can't," she gasps. "You hate me. You *have* to hate me." All the things she's done to him. All the things she's put them through. She hated him for what? Her own guilt? Her own inability to love her real father more than him? To love both of them? She'd felt so guilty about loving John and not loving Roman that she'd overcompensated and she'd turned from him, transforming her love into something painful and destructive.
He *must* hate her for the anger and hatred she's spewed at them. The lies she's told and the pain she's inflicted. She tried to take Belle from them. She tried to split them up. She would have done anything to keep him from her mother. She's a vile, hateful hideous excuse for a human being. She doesn't deserve his love. She doesn't deserve anyone's love.
"Hate you?" he asks gently, his voice soft and comforting, enveloping her completely in his soothing embrace. "Baby, I could never hate you. *Never*." He strokes her hair soothingly.
"But..." she struggles half-heartedly her tears dissolving into strangled hiccups. "I did.... I'm a h... horrible person. I'm all... I'm *wrong*. I'm h... I'm hateful."
"Noooo..." he shakes his head and takes her face between the palms of his hands. "Baby, you've done some terrible things, I know you have. But you're *not* a bad person. I know that inside, you're still the same sweet, beautiful Samantha Gene that I read stories and tucked into bed at night. But you got mixed up. You got hurt and I'm so sorry for that. You're not hateful and you're *not* wrong. You've done things that you should be ashamed of, but baby, I love you. And I'll always love you. *Nothing* you could do would stop me loving you." He strokes her cheek with the side of his thumb and she closes her eyes, sobbing silently surrendering herself to the agony. "But listen to me honey, it is time you learnt this lesson. You can't keep using your hurt and your pain as an excuse. Hurting other people isn't going to make your own pain go away. It's only going to make it worse. It's only going to make you feel worse about yourself.... And I want so much more for you than that. I want you to be *happy*. I want you to be the beautiful, strong , intelligent and loving young woman I know you can be. You're a better person than you've been showing the world. I know my baby girl can be so much more than that."
His words hit their mark and Sami feels something inside her crack and shatter. She can't ever remember feeling this wretched before. She can't ever remember hating herself quite this much. Or being quite so desperate for the forgiveness of someone else.
"Oh God!" her cry is tormented and as she prises her eyes open to bare herself to his blistering gaze, she feels as though he can see every terrible thing she's ever done. "Oh God, I'm so sorry! I'm *so* sorry."
"Its okay baby," he wraps his arms around her again and he smiles in surprise and delight as she curls her arms around his neck. "I promise you, it's going to be okay." She buries her face against his shoulder and her voice is so muffled that for a moment, he wonders if he is imagining her next words.
"Daddy, I'm so sorry."