Grayson House

March 1941

He has no idea what the hell he's doing here, to stare at the water while the shadows spread around him, as night rears its head to take away the light.

But he comes, again and again, to wander by the river like she's just going to show up, walking along the curve where the flowers are blooming.

She'd smile, take his hand, and everything will be exactly like it's supposed to.

Nothing will ever be like it's supposed to ever again.

He's scared he's going crazy, the grief overpowering his mind like the night overpowering the day. How else would you explain how he hears her whispering to him all hours of the night? What else is he supposed to do besides shut her out, the pain of losing her?

He watches a duck rise from the water like a nymph, beautiful and pure, skimming the murky water and flying away. Away from him, always.

She's gone. His Alice was taken away from him, like that duck. Everyone is saying it, family and friends alike. Even the help was whispering about it. How Alice Grayson had run off with some nobody and left her husband and bastard son behind.

Though he keeps looking in Salem, in Chicago and Springfield, though he keeps haunting the river like he's the ghost, in the worst hours of the night, he believes it.

She'd left both him and the baby.

Now he's leaving, in every sense of the word but with his body. He walks through day after day like a man sleepwalking. And God help him, he can't be a father to that baby, the spitting image of Alice he secretly, shamefully doubted was his. Just looking at him brings him unspeakable despair.

He can't bring himself to go in the nursery. He hates himself for that, but even walking up the stairs to the second floor feels like someone is squeezing the air right out of his lungs.

They say the baby's not even his.

No. In the dim twilight, with the night waking up around him, Tom covers his face with his hands. No he can't, will never believe that of her. They made that child, out of love, trust, and desire.

If even that wasn't true…

He lowers his hands, stepping closer to the water. It's warm, like Alice's smile. Soft, like her skin. Even now, as the color deepens, it's almost the color of her eyes.

"Thomas!"

He freezes, on the slippery edge.

Alice. She's coming right towards him, pushing through the water, hair spilling past her shoulders in wisps. His heart, hardened by grief, wakes up with one wild lurch.

Then the last wink of light lights up her face, and his heart gives out all over again.

Henderson grabs his hands, fear freezing his fingers. She knew the intent in his eyes, and that was the intent to die.

"She'd never want this for you. She'd hate herself to know you damned yourself to an eternity in hell by killing yourself."

"She left me."

"No, she didn't! That's not true. They lied to you. All of them, Tom. She loved you. She loved you and Bill more than anything."

"Then where the hell is she?" The anger that hides underneath his grief makes itself known. He grabs Henderson's arms, pulling her to her feet. Some sick, twisted part of him wants to swing his fist at her. Cover it in bruises just for being connected to Alice, and his own neverending grief. "Where is she?"

"She's dead!" She shouts, voice echoing in the warm air. "She was murdered. The only way she could ever pull herself away from you and Bill is in death."

Tom shoves her away, staggering to lean against the trunk of a tree. "That's more nonsense."

"I'm telling you it's true! I felt it in my bones. I dreamt about it."

"I did too." Tears hurt his eyes, flooding the light. "I dreamt about it too."

"Tom, you have to listen to me. I was there! She was in the nursery to feed the baby. I've known Alice all her life. She did nothing but love you and Bill. I never should have left the mansion that night." Henderson crosses her hands over her chest, like she's trying to hold her broken heart together. "I'll spend the rest of my life begging for her forgiveness because I wasn't there."

"She took her clothes and her jewelry. My mother is right." He purses his lips in what he thinks is an act of strength, but is actually his broken faith. "I have to accept it."

"Your mother hated Alice. She fired me the very next day. She was scared to have me still in there, worried I would find out--was…."

Tom whips around, face contorted in anger to where Henderson steps away. "You expect me to believe my own mother somehow murdered my wife, covered up the act, the crime, and the mess, by making it look like she left me?"

"I don't know what happened. But I know Alice didn't leave you. Mrs. Grayson, she went to Celeste."

Tom waves it off, turning away again. "Psychic bullshit."

"Celeste has a gift. Said there was blood, fear and pain. She talked about death, and a watery grave. She said there's two halves of you, and one of them is blacker than the deepest depths of hell."

"So now I killed her? I came home in the middle of the night and murdered my wife?"

"I said two halves, Tom, that shared the same parents. Look at your stepbrother."

The cold stabs him, making him sick to his stomach, a pulse pounding in his head. "I'm done talking to you. Go home, Henderson. And stay the hell away from the DiMera mansion."

He digs into his pocket, taking out the bronze hourglass necklace and pressing it into her hand.

"Take this, keep it for the baby." He can't bring himself to say his name. "He should have something that belongs to his mother."

He stares down, heartbroken, at the symbol in her hand. The days of Alice's life have stopped. "She died all over again because you don't believe in her."

"Stay the hell away from me." Tom stumbles away, towards the DiMera mansion, towards his self-appointed hell. "Stay the hell away."

"You know it!" Henderson shouts after him. "You know she was good."

Clutching the hourglass to her chest, Henderson silently promises to pass it down, along with the truth, to Alice's son.