Marlena swayed her legs over the side of the bed, and the room wobbled and tilted. She felt sick right away. She gasped for air, trying to breathe deeply enough to quell her nausea.

“I’m still dreaming,” she said out loud. 

But she was not. 

She knew that.

She stood up and was dizzy for a good ten seconds before she was able to take her first step. She bent over and vomit … right on the wood floor. Her stomach was empty, but it heaved anyway. She lifted her hand to wipe her mouth, and her arm felt wrong—too heavy. 

 

Now she remembered. 

She has been drugged. 

Again.

 

She stayed bent over for several more seconds before she straightened up. She felt like she was on the whirl at the fair. She stumbled forward, taking in her surroundings. 

She knew that room. 

It was freezing. 

There was a fireplace—with no fire—and a four-poster bed. Grabbing onto the bed to steady herself when her legs buckled. 

“Where is John?” she could see her breath steaming into the air. Marlena focused on that, watched it expand and dissipate. Her eyes took a long time to re-focus. She was not sure how long she stood there, except her feet started to ache. 

She looked down at her toes. 

She could barely feel them. 

She has to move. 

Do something. 

Understand the visions she’d been having.

Black Bird, she was Black Bird, the codes, the key to bringing Stefano down, was inside of her all this time. 

Her mouth was slow to respond, but when it did, she heard her intake of breath filled the dead silence around her. She didn’t believe people actually gasped in real life until the moment she heard herself do it. 

 

That moment—this gasping, heart-stopping moment, when all that filled her eyes were memories, hunted pictures from her past. 

So much pain.

 

She heard her body crack against the wood, then she fell into darkness. She moaned and a sharp pain shot through her arm when she tried to push herself forward from the bed. She cried out and shoved her hand over her mouth. If Fernando was there, she didn’t want him to hear her. 

 

Good call, Marlena.

 

One … two … three … four … five … six. 

 

Her feet hit the rug. The floor was cold. The cold shot up her legs. 

 

She could hear someone breathing. She wondered if he could hear her. The noise started again, muffled words this time as if he was speaking through something. 

Words … words that sounded like... MARLENA!

 

As quickly as her legs could carry her, she opened a wooden bathroom door. In it was a man, his arms and legs bound with white rags. He was blindfolded and gagged with the same white cloth. She watched in shock as his head thrashed from side to side. The muscles in his arms were pulled so taut she could see the outlines of where each one started and ended. She started to rush forward to help him, then stopped. 

 

She could still be in danger. 

This could be a trap. 

He could be the trap.

Again.

 

She walked cautiously, keeping her eyes on the corners of the room as though Fernando might emerge from the wood walls. Then she spun toward the door from which she entered, to make sure Fernando was not sneaking up behind her. She continued this cycle until she reached the side of the bathtub, and her heart was racing painfully. She kicked it open, and he went perfectly still, his face angled toward her, his breathing coming hard. 

 

There he was … lots of scruff on his face. Angling her back to the wall, she reached over and yanked away his blindfold and gag. She was half leaning over him when they saw each other for the first time in days. 

She could see his shock. He could see hers.

 

He blinked rapidly as if he was trying to clear his vision. 

“Oh, my God.” 

“Oh my God, John,” she said again. Marlena bent slowly at the knees, keeping her eyes on him and the door. 

But she backed up. She needed distance between them. She moved toward the door, but then she realized she could be ambushed from behind. 

She spun. 

 

There was nothing behind her. She spun again—staring at the man in the tub. This can’t be happening. 

This is crazy.

 

“Marlena,” she heard her name. She looked back at his face. Any minute she expected to wake from this nightmare. She will be in her own bed, underneath her flourish comforter, wearing her own pajamas. 

“Doc,” he choked. 

“It's me. Cut me loose … please…” she hesitated.

“Marlena,” he said again. “I’m not going to hurt you. It’s me.” He leaned his head back against the tile and closed his eyes like he couldn’t stand the pain. 

 

She found a razor knife inside the sink, held it tightly and chopped at the white fabric that was binding his arms. 

She could barely breathe—never mind see. 

She sliced his skin with the knife. 

 

He flinched, but didn’t make a sound. She watched his blood pool in fascination before it streamed down his arm.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “My hands are shaking. I can’t—”

“It’s all right, Doc. Take your time.” 

Funny, she thought. He was the one tied up, and he was reassuring her. She made it through his other hand binding, and he took the razor from her, cutting his own legs free. 

She silently panicked. She shouldn’t have handed over the knife. He could be … he could be the mercenary again… but It didn’t make sense. When he was through, he sprung off the tub, massaging his wrists. 

 

She took a step away from him.

 

When he looked at her, he narrowed his eyes. “Is he here? Have you seen—” 

“No,” she cut him off. “I don’t think he is here.”

“Look at me.” his tone was softer now, but she kept her distance. “I’m sorry...I had to play along; I had to convince him I was...that person again...I needed his help to get down here and help you.”

She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“Doc”

“John...don't..” she moved before his hand found her shoulder, “I just want to find these documents and get the hell out of here.”

“Documents?”

“I found a journal..my journal... I was here, years ago...I recognized my handwriting.”

“Talk to me-”

“I can’t..” she moved to sit on the floor. Why couldn’t she open up to him, the way she always did. These were the thoughts that had haunted her in her state. They hurt even worse now because she was in great need of his love, his present.

 

Was John lost to her? There were bars between them now. Bars Stefano had created years ago. 

“The only thing we have inside this room is words, Marlena. I need you to tell me what you know.” That line kept repeating in her head. She couldn’t get it to stop. She heard it while she was drugged too. 

She and John haven’t spoken since he and Fernando captured her.

 

He sat on the floor next to her. She was foggy still. Yes, she has been drugged, of that she was certain. Was she dreaming? Or was it a memory.

 

She just had to fight Fernando. Help John and leave that place forever. She must have been silent for a while because John stared at her for a long minute before she spoke. 

“I’m to blame. I conducted these experiments on your minds.”

Why would she do this? She wanted to ask, but she feared the truth. The truth would mean she would have to hold in another revelation. She couldn’t take another. She couldn’t handle more guilt than she already carried.

“No.”

“Yes. The patient files show-” she argued

“You were never his pawn, he took you in as a doctor to these prisoners, the psychiatrist,” he said. 

 

And then, suddenly, it felt like his hand was on her shoulder, he squeezed.

She couldn’t breathe. 

“What do you mean?” The air shuddered out of her lungs. Marlena’s heart pounded like it was going to break through her skin.

 

“I heard your words. I remember your face. Every time that I woke up, you were there. You were never there when I fell asleep...someone else was, but it wasn’t you, Doc.”

 

“How? How do you-” she turned to face him, ignoring his hands.

“Fernando drugged me after he tied me here...I saw frictions of memories. I lied to him that I didn’t remember anything...”

 

She may have been silent, but inside her head, she was screaming. “Before he tied me up, I went over my file. It only took me to open the first page of that patient folder,” he said, striding to the big wardrobe, he pulled out his medical file. “your signature’s not there.” 

She snatched it from his hand, trying to find the light switch with her other.

“You’re wrong, it is.” 

“Your signature is there, Marlena, but not under the experiments charts. We both know that it proves you’re not to blame.”

“What else?”

“What else what?”

“What else did you see?” her breathing came out as quickly as she took it in.

“We...we were friends, Fernando and I...before everything happened...I was up there, at the cabin, with Fernando, Neomi, and Leo. We celebrated Leo’s 6th birthday.” there was a hint of longing in his voice, he was a million miles away.

Her throat was so dry. She couldn’t swallow. Every time she tried, she choked on the thickness of her tongue. It was swollen, stuck to the roof of her mouth.

 

“I’m Black Bird.” she blurted.

“You’re what?” 

“The codes Fernando has been looking for. It’s a microchip with all of Stefano’s banking account, hiding locations, everything...it’s inside me.” 

“It’s what? but, how, how-.” 

“I was drugged too...I don’t know who put it there” her hand lowered to rub the inside of her thigh, “I only know Fernando wants to find it and destroy it.” 

She covered her eyes, and leaned her head against the wall and tried to take more deep breaths.

 

“Does he..know?” 

Her stomach churned. “No. I don't think so."

“I have to get you out of here.”

 

It was dark, but she could visualize the room they were in. Her back was against one of the walls. Everything was hurting even worse now that she has told him the truth. 

“We can’t leave,” she said, slowly closing her eyes. Everything inside her was suddenly shaking, including her voice. The sweat was back; the churning had returned. The whole room was spinning. 

“What do you mean, we can’t leave? There’s no way I’m letting him put his hands on you again, Doc.”

“I need to know what was it that I did here, all those years ago. I knew this was going on and did nothing to stop it. Oh my God, I'm just as bad as Stefano.” Marlena pushed herself off the wall and wrapped her arms around her stomach. Her chest was heaving, her pulse racing. The air was closing in on her. 

 

It felt like there were hands squeezing her throat. And then there was this awful taste in her mouth, like she’d been sucking on a piece of hard plastic. But there was nothing between her lips, nothing around her neck.

 

Just her, John, that underground room, so many unknowns, and not nearly enough air. 

 

Stop fighting it, Marlena.

 

“I can’t breathe.”

 

Three clumsy steps and she was at the sink, splashing cold water on her face, gulping it down. It didn’t help. 

She still couldn’t breathe. 

 

Tiny flashes of light sparkled at the corners of her eyes as she paced in a small circle. They weren’t pretty; they were a warning that she was going to pass out. 

She needed to breathe. 

Nothing was going in; nothing was coming out. 

 

Breathe, Marlena. 

 

John’s hands were on her shoulders. 

 

Breathe.

 

“You are not to blame...let’s find the journal you discovered, I’m sure you wrote there how you hated every minute of it, how Stefano had twisted your arm to do these things.” 

“I don’t know where it is.” She panted, looking up through the pieces of hair that had fallen over her eyes. She held her chest because her throat was too tight to touch. 

 

“I’m sure it’s still here, somewhere,” he said. “Let me try to find it, and I’ll prove it to you.” 

 

Relax, Marlena. Let him do that...

 

She shook her head. The plastic taste wasn’t as strong, the tightening starting to loosen just a little. 

“last time I’ve seen it, it was on the bed.” The shaking stopped, and the room was no longer spinning. 

“We have to hurry John, I don’t know when Fernando would show up again.” she inhaled through her nose and exhaled slowly out through her mouth. A heavenly smell of frying bacon hit her nostrils. 

It was him. He was up there, cooking.

The smell sneaked into the fireplace and down to the dark bedroom.

She was famished, she suddenly realized as she sat up in bed and clutched the fabric of her gown to her chest. She barely ate a thing since yesterday and God knew she was a better fan of greek yogurt and fruit, but she was so hungry, and that smelled so good.

She guessed it was morning, but she couldn't recall how she got there, she only knew she was drugged.

 

In spite of her hunger, she lingered in bed a moment, staring at John, who was still with his knees on the floor, looking for her missing item. All the memories of yesterday ran on an unforgiving reel in her brain. Her body ached, as though she was thrown off a building.

Fernando wasn’t lying... John was faking it, he was only trying to help her. Her head dropped down between her legs, and she winced slightly at the soreness of her ankle and throbbing of her head. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced all her confused thoughts away.

 

Thinking about all of it won’t help anything. 

There was today to face. 

“Any luck?”

 

Silent.

 

“John?”

His tormented moans and gasps intermingling with the quiet in the room. Marlena focused on him. He was in the same clothes he’d worn when she first met him at the island, but now, his shirt was torn, and there were bloodstains on his jeans. His stubbles had definitely thickened, and the look in his eyes had deepened. As deep as when he had been kissing her. 

“What is wrong?” she asked. 

“You were never down here because you were the lead psychiatrist...” He did mention something about that earlier. She wished she could go back home to Belle and Brady. That image was perfect. 

 

“What do you mean? What did you find?” He set them down on the floor, turning so that he faced her. His hand left hers. She missed it the second it was gone. “Medical records. Your medical records” Air had left her lungs. Her stomach couldn’t relax now. 

“Let me see-” 

“Doc-” his fingers held on tightly to the brown folder in his hand, she grabbed it and pulled.

“Doc,” he repeated.

 

She glanced down at the papers. They looked yellow in this dim light. Yellow and sticky and shaking. She was shaking again. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. She rushed over to the bathroom, wrapped her hands around the toilet, she vomited again. 

 

“Marlena...we don’t know if it even happen..” 

“No!” she shouted abruptly. She lifted herself, “There’s no reason for it to be a lie. It's written here, black on white. I was raped.” 

There was no question about it. There was no reason to deny it. “Stefano kept you down here to keep you safe.” 

Her feet ached, and she turned around to press her back against the door. Her hands stung from the wood; her palms now tinged a deep grey from the dust. She felt herself falling until her ass sharply hit the cement. 

 

“Who?” she cried out. “Who?” 

“It doesn't say, the page is torn at the end,” he whispered, he was sitting across from her, staring into her eyes, his voice raw and anguished. 

“I have to get  you out of here,” he said.

He rose from the floor and walked over to her, placing himself next to his beautiful lady. Even though it has been a while since she took a proper shower, she was still the most alluring woman he has ever seen.

 

It must have been the drugs that made her limbs feel so heavy, her head so cloudy. She could see, she could hear, she could feel, but none of it was crisp, and none of it felt like it was under her control. Finally, warmth shone over his beautiful features. 

“Come here,” he lifted her from the floor and set her on his lap. She molded to his body until she was snuggling into his chest with his arms wrapped around her. She no longer felt the dampness in the air or the unforgiving hard floor. She no longer felt his coldness. She just felt him. 

All of her felt him. 

“I feel like we’re back home again..”

”Promise me that there’s a way out.” 

“I can’t promise that.” he sighed. 

“I know.” She finally smelled him. His skin, clothes—whatever it was, it was a taste. A taste of something delicious inside a flavorless room. A taste that reminded her of years of memories. 

They embraced her as much as he did. She needed that. 

 

“Fernando will return. He will want to know what you remembred” he whispered

“I know,”  If things were about to get bad, then at least she had this minute of good. 

“John” 

“Mmm,” he grumbled across the top of her head. “You’re squeezing me so hard.” 

“I’m sorry...I just thought of something.” Marlena slowly looked at his face. “He would return, but this time, we would have the upper hand, we would be one step ahead.” His expression didn’t change, but his grip lightened. 

He pressed his hand over her cheek, his fingers reaching well past her ear, his thumb dipping to the corner of her lip. Even when he was soft, he was still so rough. “We just have to hang on a little longer,” he said, looking at the metal syringe on the floor.

“You’ve got a plan?” 

“To keep you safe? Always.”