Gertie

Chapter 39

August 1996

    Marlena brought John home a week later. That hard edge that had always seemed to be lying just under the surface, the one made of fear, and confusion, seemed to be gone. He was slowly recollecting his time with Marlena and the children, but he was also recalling pieces from other eras of his life. John was recalling his childhood, which was spent as a ward of the state in Oklahoma, and his time with Stefano. He would wake in the night, covered in a cold sweat, while Marlena held him. John getting his memories back was both a blessing and a curse.

    She'd started keeping notes almost immediately. John's earliest memories seemed to be of a childhood spent in group homes. He had never been adopted, but still excelled in school, and seemed to have an affinity for baseball. He told Marlena with a laugh, that he was convinced baseball would pay all of his bills. Marlena was certain that the microchip in John's nervous system, had been there to suppress his memories, but also as a way to implant Roman's memories.

    None of it made sense, until two weeks after coming home, John woke from a nightmare, and told her, "I was nothing to Stefano. I was nothing to the world. A seventeen year old ward of the state disappears? What do they care? I'm deemed a runaway, and they wash their hands of me. Stefano, he gets a test subject, a mercenary...someone that nobody is looking for."

    Marlena brushed his hair away from his forehead, "You mean something to me. You have always meant something to me."

    John smiled at her, grateful to have her in his life. "I wanted to die once...when Roman came back, and I didn't know who I was. I wanted to die," he whispered, staring at the ceiling. "You saved me that night, and I never even told you."

    "What?"

    "It was raining. Do you remember? The ISA wanted to arrest me, and you found me on the pier."

    "I remember," she told him, surprised that his memories were coming back at such a rapid pace.

    "I had a gun, you knew that...but I didn't tell you, I was planning to end my own life," he said in a choked voice. "Not because Roman said I was programmed to do it. Not because of some trigger the ISA was worried about, but because I felt like I had nothing left if I lost you, and the kids."

    "John," Marlena whispered.

    "I'm sorry I left," he said, rolling over to look at her in the moonlight. "I'm sorry I left, and I never even gave us a chance. I—I assumed things, and I shouldn't have."

    "John?"

    "When I left Salem, with Isabella," he told her, "I was...I hope this makes sense, I was back to the beginning. No memories that were mine. No family, no wife, no job. I think my mind shut down. Do you remember, when I first came to Salem, when I was Stefano's Pawn? I struggled. You never knew how much, because I tried to hide it. But that fear of the unknown, the fear that I could be Stefano, or possibly someone worse...it haunted me. I could stare at my face in the mirror for hours, trying to force myself to remember who I was, only to end up breaking things in a rage." He touched her face softly, "Finding out I was Roman Brady...it didn't immediately give me memories, but it calmed my mind. Roman Brady was a good guy. The people of Salem respected him. I could be that man."

    "Oh, John, that's not confusing at all. Being Roman, even if you couldn't remember being Roman...it let you know that you were kind, caring, a family man. I understand that. I understand how that would bring you peace," she told him softly.

    "When we found Roman—"

    "—do you remember that?"

    John sighed, "Yes, most of it has come back to me. I remember the feelings associated with finding him. I was lost again. My memories weren't mine, and I went back to wondering...what kind of person was I? Isabella promised me a family, with her and Brady. And in my irrational fear, I made a decision to leave. It had nothing to do with you, or trusting you, or loving you. It was all wrapped up in those feelings of helplessness. Those hours of staring in the mirror, wondering who I was, only to break the things around me in frustration." His fingers trailed over the soft skin on her shoulder, "You were right when you called me a coward in San Francisco."