Believe Me, I know My Baby
He nearly came out of his seat at the pictures that Stefano held up on the screen in front of him, the gasps from those nearby him enough to make him know that it wasn't part of some nightmare. But then again, it was. Everything that Stefano did to him was out of some nightmare. But this. . . this was the worse. . .
Swallowing as he felt the hand on his shocked wife on his arm, he lowered himself back into his seat, trying to concentrate on the words his arch enemy was saying. And yet he couldn't. He knew he would need to rewatch the tape later. Knew Stefano would leave him it, and a trail of information for him to follow on this wild goose chase.
It was a vindictive game. But he knew he'd have to play it out. If there was even a chance that it was true, then he owed it too her. Because it was very likely that it was his fault she was caught up in this game. Even if it wasn't, her presence in his life made her susceptible. He'd find the answers one way or another. . .
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ It had taken him longer than he had thought it would to follow the leads. He supposed that part of it was the fact that he knew he was hurting his wife. She couldn't understand his need to do this. Most of them couldn't. But he had to.
Had to because she was his wife too.
She had been the one who accepted him without knowing who he was. Had helped him to redefine himself as someone other than Roman. And he had loved her. Loved her more than. . .
Losing her had been one of the hardest things he had ever been though. He had held her as she had taken her last breath. Even now he couldn't banish that feeling. The feeling of her in his arms slipping away.
But this was DiMera that they were talking about. Anything was possible. Hell, his own aunt had used a drug that made a woman seem dead, couldn't it be possible?
"You sure about this?" Roman asked from where he sat next to him.
"I don't have much of a choice, now do I?" he asked as he turned to look at him.
"Are you sure you want to go in there alone?"
"I'm wired. I'll be fine," he shrugged as he pushed the door.
"John. . ."
"I need to do this myself, Roman. I'll know. When I see her. . ." he shook his head, and sighed.
"Yeah," was Roman's only answer as he slid out of the car and started towards the bar, his mind wondering at the place. This wasn't her type of place, was all he thought as watched him walk in.
~She was in the middle of an empty dance floor
Wrapped up in a tall dark stranger's arms
They didn't see me slip in through the shadows
And sit down at the end of the bar
She was kissin' him all over
The way she never kissed me
I knew it was her in a heartbeat
But I knew it couldn't be~
He stopped at the corner of the bar, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness and the smoke, scanning the room. It didn't take long for him to spot her.
The dance floor was almost empty, and she stood there wrapped in some man's arms, and his heart skipped a beat as he watched them, the lyrics of the song playing seeming to mock him, although as he watched them dance, he started to forget them. Started to just hear the music, as he watched them move to the beat. All he could see was her profile as she moved her arms up and down the man's, but it was enough. At least for now. . .
~She doesn't dance
And she hates dark smokey places
She doesn't own any fancy high heel shoes
Or short sexy dresses
Her hair would be up
The way that I love
Never so down and crazy
Believe me I know my baby
And she doesn't dance~
Her hair spilled over her shoulders, wild and untamed. Her dark blue dress couldn't exactly be defined as more than a scrap of material. Truth was, if Belle had come down in anything remotely resembling it he would've sent her back up to change. But Belle was a child. What he was watching on the dance floor was a woman who was quite comfortable with her body and sexuality. She was using her body for something, what he wasn't exactly sure, but he could see it. And how she moved. G-d the way she moved. Her body moved in synchronization with her partner's, and he could feel her moving with him that way. Moving in his arms. Against his body. Kissing him. . .
~The bartender said can you believe it
Man some guys have all the luck
But in a cold old world so full of pain and heartache
It's good to see somebody so in love~
"She's something, else, isn't she?" a voice asked, and he turned to see the bartender standing near him, watching him with a curious expression.
"She reminds me of someone," he answered as he turned. "Can I get a Coors."
"Tap or bottle?"
"Bottle's fine," he answered as he leaned against the bar, and continued to watch. All the while his mind sorted information. How it could be her. How it couldn't. . .
"Can't imagine there'd be two of them in the world," the bartender said as he returned with the beer and put it in front of him. "Then again. . ."
"What?" John asked, as he pulled his attention away from the woman and man on the dance floor.
"Often wondered what her story was. Always seemed to have too much class to be in a place like this. She hates the smoke. When she's not dancing, I've seen her kick the shoes off under a table. Tugs on the skirts. . . of course that's when he's not around. . ." he shrugged as he started wiping down the bar.
"Really? She come in often without him?"
"Only comes in with him. Leaves with him too. Don't think I've seen her talk to any one who wasn't introduced by him, although, you probably shouldn't be looking too long anyway," the bartender said pointedly as he took note of the wedding ring that was showing against the beer bottle. "Ain't crazy seeing someone like her with him, but I don't let my regulars get talked into things they shouldn't be. Love plays cruel jokes on people."
~When they walked out together
I just sat there all alone
I thought God I hate that woman
But I love the one at home~
"Just looking for something that probably died years ago," John sighed as he took a last swig of his beer and put the empty bottle on the bar, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bill that more than covered the drink. "My wife's right. I shouldn't be chasing after ghosts."
"Sometimes, ghosts chase us. At least they do when we're ready," the bartender shot back, as he watched the woman blanche as she caught sight of the man he was talking to. It was the first time he had seen any sort of reaction to any one in the bar from her.
John only nodded as he looked over to her, the thought that he couldn't stick around to watch them walk out together utmost in his mind. Sighing, he turned to start to go out, stopping only as he heard her laugh.
~She doesn't dance
And she hates dark smokey places
She doesn't own any fancy high heel shoes
Or short sexy dresses
Her hair would be up
The way that I love
Never so down and crazy
Believe me I know my baby
And she doesn't dance~
Unable to resist, he turned and walked towards the dance floor, standing in the shadows as he continued to watch, his heart breaking with each movement they made. With each sweep of the other man's hand on her skin.
She didn't dance like that, not even with him. Her dresses, when sexy, covered her and gave only a hint of what they hid. She wore her hair up because she knew how much he loved to take it down. She hated to wear heels unless she had to.
It couldn't be her. . .
And yet, as they turned on the floor, he saw her face full on for the first time. Her eyes seemed to find him in the dark and lock for too short a time. And there was no question in his mind. Especially not as a whiff of a familiar perfume drifted pass him. . . As he inhaled he closed his eyes, and as he opened them, he noticed that they had moved to a different part of the floor, but her eyes were searching for his. Desperate to get a message across to him, and even after all these years he could still read them. Read the fear. The desperation they held. And he knew that he had to leave. Had to forget. At least for now. Because there was also something else that he recognized in her eyes.
Swallowing back tears, he closed his eyes and nodded, knowing that she'd somehow know his answer even though she might not be able to see him. And he remembered, that was why she hated places like this. Because she couldn't see him--- couldn't read him--- in the dark.
Shaking, he turned on his heel and hurried out, back to the car that waited for him.
~It's like a bad movie
That's lasted too long
It's all about her
But it has to be wrong~
Roman looked up as the door to the car opened, and John climbed in. "Well? Was it her?" he asked, then taking a good look at his friend, he cursed. "Did you. . ."
"No. I couldn't do it. . ." John admitted.
"Then how do you. . .?"
"I just do. The same way that I knew I would find Marleana on the docks that night," he explained as he slammed his head back against the seat. "But for some reason. . . she knows Roman. I saw it in her eyes. She's stayed away for. . . I don't know. . .I just know I have to wait till she's ready."
"Think she ever will be?"
John nodded, "yeah. I think she wanted to now, but something's holding her back."
"So what are you going to tell people?" Roman asked, frowning as John laughed slightly.
"She didn't dance. She hated dark smokey places. How could I have even thought it could've been her?" he answered, causing Roman to shake his head and wonder if this game they were all caught in would ever end.
~She doesn't dance
And she hates dark smokey places
She doesn't own any fancy high heel shoes
Or short sexy dresses
Her hair would be up
The way that I love
Never so down and crazy
Believe me I know my baby
And she doesn't dance~
She watched the sun stream in the window as she listened to the concern on the other end of the phone, one hand applying the finishing touches to her makeup. "He's not going to say anything, Billie. . . I know. . . I know. . . Who do you think you're talking to? I have a hell of a lot more at stake. . .I know that. I've been doing this longer. . . This all. .. all that I gave up can't be for nothing. It just can't," she sighed as she heard the door open behind her, "I have to go," she said quickly as she hung up, and quickly rose and turned to the man in the doorway.
"We're going to be late," he admonished.
"Just finishing my makeup," she answered swiftly as she stepped towards him, her steps made sensuous by her heels, her legs elongated by her short skirt.
"You don't need to. I don't need him looking at you like that," he admonished as he pulled her to him and kissed her neck.
"Isn't that my part in this?" she asked as she pulled back slightly. "Making you seem more masculine? Turning on your counterparts to make them more malleable?"
"Weaken them," he corrected as he tweaked her nose, "and you don't need the make up, your body does it on its own. Now, are you ready?'
"If you think so," she replied evenly as she let him take her hand and lead her to the door. She watched as the man across the room stood and accessed her, cringing inwardly at how his eyes moved over her. She hated being a piece of meat on display, but she didn't let it show as she and her escort stopped a few feet away from him, and she allowed him to do the introductions.
"Dr. Colin Murphy, please allow me to introduce Ms. Loretta Victors. . ."
~Believe me she doesn't dance~
Song credit: She Doesn't Dance
(Mark McGuinn/Don Pfrimmer/Shane Decker)
He nearly came out of his seat at the pictures that Stefano held up on the screen in front of him, the gasps from those nearby him enough to make him know that it wasn't part of some nightmare. But then again, it was. Everything that Stefano did to him was out of some nightmare. But this. . . this was the worse. . .
Swallowing as he felt the hand on his shocked wife on his arm, he lowered himself back into his seat, trying to concentrate on the words his arch enemy was saying. And yet he couldn't. He knew he would need to rewatch the tape later. Knew Stefano would leave him it, and a trail of information for him to follow on this wild goose chase.
It was a vindictive game. But he knew he'd have to play it out. If there was even a chance that it was true, then he owed it too her. Because it was very likely that it was his fault she was caught up in this game. Even if it wasn't, her presence in his life made her susceptible. He'd find the answers one way or another. . .
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ It had taken him longer than he had thought it would to follow the leads. He supposed that part of it was the fact that he knew he was hurting his wife. She couldn't understand his need to do this. Most of them couldn't. But he had to.
Had to because she was his wife too.
She had been the one who accepted him without knowing who he was. Had helped him to redefine himself as someone other than Roman. And he had loved her. Loved her more than. . .
Losing her had been one of the hardest things he had ever been though. He had held her as she had taken her last breath. Even now he couldn't banish that feeling. The feeling of her in his arms slipping away.
But this was DiMera that they were talking about. Anything was possible. Hell, his own aunt had used a drug that made a woman seem dead, couldn't it be possible?
"You sure about this?" Roman asked from where he sat next to him.
"I don't have much of a choice, now do I?" he asked as he turned to look at him.
"Are you sure you want to go in there alone?"
"I'm wired. I'll be fine," he shrugged as he pushed the door.
"John. . ."
"I need to do this myself, Roman. I'll know. When I see her. . ." he shook his head, and sighed.
"Yeah," was Roman's only answer as he slid out of the car and started towards the bar, his mind wondering at the place. This wasn't her type of place, was all he thought as watched him walk in.
~She was in the middle of an empty dance floor
Wrapped up in a tall dark stranger's arms
They didn't see me slip in through the shadows
And sit down at the end of the bar
She was kissin' him all over
The way she never kissed me
I knew it was her in a heartbeat
But I knew it couldn't be~
He stopped at the corner of the bar, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness and the smoke, scanning the room. It didn't take long for him to spot her.
The dance floor was almost empty, and she stood there wrapped in some man's arms, and his heart skipped a beat as he watched them, the lyrics of the song playing seeming to mock him, although as he watched them dance, he started to forget them. Started to just hear the music, as he watched them move to the beat. All he could see was her profile as she moved her arms up and down the man's, but it was enough. At least for now. . .
~She doesn't dance
And she hates dark smokey places
She doesn't own any fancy high heel shoes
Or short sexy dresses
Her hair would be up
The way that I love
Never so down and crazy
Believe me I know my baby
And she doesn't dance~
Her hair spilled over her shoulders, wild and untamed. Her dark blue dress couldn't exactly be defined as more than a scrap of material. Truth was, if Belle had come down in anything remotely resembling it he would've sent her back up to change. But Belle was a child. What he was watching on the dance floor was a woman who was quite comfortable with her body and sexuality. She was using her body for something, what he wasn't exactly sure, but he could see it. And how she moved. G-d the way she moved. Her body moved in synchronization with her partner's, and he could feel her moving with him that way. Moving in his arms. Against his body. Kissing him. . .
~The bartender said can you believe it
Man some guys have all the luck
But in a cold old world so full of pain and heartache
It's good to see somebody so in love~
"She's something, else, isn't she?" a voice asked, and he turned to see the bartender standing near him, watching him with a curious expression.
"She reminds me of someone," he answered as he turned. "Can I get a Coors."
"Tap or bottle?"
"Bottle's fine," he answered as he leaned against the bar, and continued to watch. All the while his mind sorted information. How it could be her. How it couldn't. . .
"Can't imagine there'd be two of them in the world," the bartender said as he returned with the beer and put it in front of him. "Then again. . ."
"What?" John asked, as he pulled his attention away from the woman and man on the dance floor.
"Often wondered what her story was. Always seemed to have too much class to be in a place like this. She hates the smoke. When she's not dancing, I've seen her kick the shoes off under a table. Tugs on the skirts. . . of course that's when he's not around. . ." he shrugged as he started wiping down the bar.
"Really? She come in often without him?"
"Only comes in with him. Leaves with him too. Don't think I've seen her talk to any one who wasn't introduced by him, although, you probably shouldn't be looking too long anyway," the bartender said pointedly as he took note of the wedding ring that was showing against the beer bottle. "Ain't crazy seeing someone like her with him, but I don't let my regulars get talked into things they shouldn't be. Love plays cruel jokes on people."
~When they walked out together
I just sat there all alone
I thought God I hate that woman
But I love the one at home~
"Just looking for something that probably died years ago," John sighed as he took a last swig of his beer and put the empty bottle on the bar, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bill that more than covered the drink. "My wife's right. I shouldn't be chasing after ghosts."
"Sometimes, ghosts chase us. At least they do when we're ready," the bartender shot back, as he watched the woman blanche as she caught sight of the man he was talking to. It was the first time he had seen any sort of reaction to any one in the bar from her.
John only nodded as he looked over to her, the thought that he couldn't stick around to watch them walk out together utmost in his mind. Sighing, he turned to start to go out, stopping only as he heard her laugh.
~She doesn't dance
And she hates dark smokey places
She doesn't own any fancy high heel shoes
Or short sexy dresses
Her hair would be up
The way that I love
Never so down and crazy
Believe me I know my baby
And she doesn't dance~
Unable to resist, he turned and walked towards the dance floor, standing in the shadows as he continued to watch, his heart breaking with each movement they made. With each sweep of the other man's hand on her skin.
She didn't dance like that, not even with him. Her dresses, when sexy, covered her and gave only a hint of what they hid. She wore her hair up because she knew how much he loved to take it down. She hated to wear heels unless she had to.
It couldn't be her. . .
And yet, as they turned on the floor, he saw her face full on for the first time. Her eyes seemed to find him in the dark and lock for too short a time. And there was no question in his mind. Especially not as a whiff of a familiar perfume drifted pass him. . . As he inhaled he closed his eyes, and as he opened them, he noticed that they had moved to a different part of the floor, but her eyes were searching for his. Desperate to get a message across to him, and even after all these years he could still read them. Read the fear. The desperation they held. And he knew that he had to leave. Had to forget. At least for now. Because there was also something else that he recognized in her eyes.
Swallowing back tears, he closed his eyes and nodded, knowing that she'd somehow know his answer even though she might not be able to see him. And he remembered, that was why she hated places like this. Because she couldn't see him--- couldn't read him--- in the dark.
Shaking, he turned on his heel and hurried out, back to the car that waited for him.
~It's like a bad movie
That's lasted too long
It's all about her
But it has to be wrong~
Roman looked up as the door to the car opened, and John climbed in. "Well? Was it her?" he asked, then taking a good look at his friend, he cursed. "Did you. . ."
"No. I couldn't do it. . ." John admitted.
"Then how do you. . .?"
"I just do. The same way that I knew I would find Marleana on the docks that night," he explained as he slammed his head back against the seat. "But for some reason. . . she knows Roman. I saw it in her eyes. She's stayed away for. . . I don't know. . .I just know I have to wait till she's ready."
"Think she ever will be?"
John nodded, "yeah. I think she wanted to now, but something's holding her back."
"So what are you going to tell people?" Roman asked, frowning as John laughed slightly.
"She didn't dance. She hated dark smokey places. How could I have even thought it could've been her?" he answered, causing Roman to shake his head and wonder if this game they were all caught in would ever end.
~She doesn't dance
And she hates dark smokey places
She doesn't own any fancy high heel shoes
Or short sexy dresses
Her hair would be up
The way that I love
Never so down and crazy
Believe me I know my baby
And she doesn't dance~
She watched the sun stream in the window as she listened to the concern on the other end of the phone, one hand applying the finishing touches to her makeup. "He's not going to say anything, Billie. . . I know. . . I know. . . Who do you think you're talking to? I have a hell of a lot more at stake. . .I know that. I've been doing this longer. . . This all. .. all that I gave up can't be for nothing. It just can't," she sighed as she heard the door open behind her, "I have to go," she said quickly as she hung up, and quickly rose and turned to the man in the doorway.
"We're going to be late," he admonished.
"Just finishing my makeup," she answered swiftly as she stepped towards him, her steps made sensuous by her heels, her legs elongated by her short skirt.
"You don't need to. I don't need him looking at you like that," he admonished as he pulled her to him and kissed her neck.
"Isn't that my part in this?" she asked as she pulled back slightly. "Making you seem more masculine? Turning on your counterparts to make them more malleable?"
"Weaken them," he corrected as he tweaked her nose, "and you don't need the make up, your body does it on its own. Now, are you ready?'
"If you think so," she replied evenly as she let him take her hand and lead her to the door. She watched as the man across the room stood and accessed her, cringing inwardly at how his eyes moved over her. She hated being a piece of meat on display, but she didn't let it show as she and her escort stopped a few feet away from him, and she allowed him to do the introductions.
"Dr. Colin Murphy, please allow me to introduce Ms. Loretta Victors. . ."
~Believe me she doesn't dance~
Song credit: She Doesn't Dance
(Mark McGuinn/Don Pfrimmer/Shane Decker)