Kayla sat on the floor with her forehead resting against the slats of Stephanie’s crib at Shane’s house. The baby was three times the age she was when Kayla had jumped away from her last. She’d been at this a while now, and even though it was still surreal to her to see her baby girl jump in age from one moment to the next, she didn’t feel any awe in it this time. Amidst the loneliness and guilt, the wonder of seeing her at this age wasn’t quite as impactful this time. Being with her daughter did have a calming effect on her, though. And did she ever need it. It had been an hour since Kayla had arrived into a body that was, in this time, having sex with Shane. As soon as he’d rounded the corner from his bedroom to go into his study she’d run to Jeannie’s room and hoped that Stephanie would be there. When she found that she was she finally allowed herself to cry. It was a silent, woeful sort of emotion spilling the tears from her eyes; the kind born out of despondency. She was able to stave it off when she realized what this jump meant for Steve, but now that she was alone with her daughter – alone with her thoughts – she had never felt so lonely. So completely alone. It wasn’t better or worse than when she thought Steve died, it was a whole different sort of lonely. Kayla didn’t belong in this time, her husband was somewhere completely intangible, and his body was literally lost to her. Stephanie slept peacefully, none the wiser that her mother was watching her little chest rise and fall, taking comfort from her presence. Kayla’s eyes started out in blank hoplessness, a shred, however, clinging to the baby girl in front of her as she softly stroked her hand through the slats.
Some time later, Kayla got up, found some clothes, and showered. She didn’t cry, she didn’t react to the feel of her body beneath her soapy hands, and she didn’t look at herself. She simply took care of the needs this body came with and then proceeded to dress in the clothing that she’d, apparently, brought with her for this overnight.
Less than an hour later she was back in Jeannie’s room sleeping on the floor next to Stephanie.
Kayla awoke the next morning to the sounds of her daughter calling to her. “Mama! Mama up! Mama, Mama, Mama! Up!” She cracked her eyes open, and for a moment she didn’t know where she was. Then she saw the dark eyes of her baby daughter and heard her little giggle and couldn’t help a small smile.
“Good morning, baby,” she said in a soft voice as she leaned up on her side. “You slept good, didn’t you, Stephanie?” Then she noticed that Shane had covered her with a blanket sometime in the night. She took a deep sigh and proceeded to stand up.
“Mama?” Kayla loved the sound of her little girl’s voice. “Up!”
“Ok, baby girl, let’s get you up.” As she stood at the changing table getting Stephanie into a clean diaper, she was reminded of having just done this with Joey. It tugged at her, and she immediately felt the melancholy. Even as the sadness washed over her, she knew she did not have time for it. She could jump in two minutes or two years, it didn’t matter, she would not sit here and allow Steve to endure a moment more of anguish than she had the power to prevent. Things she had to do: Tend to Stephanie, see to her bodily needs, interact with the people who were needed to free Steve, possibly give temporary notice at the hospital. Things she did not have to do: Everything else, including let herself wallow in her loneliness and sadness. Nevertheless, Kayla sucked in her breath at the sudden stab of worry about her other baby that was somewhere at home without his parents.
Kayla tugged open the Velcro tags on either side of her daughter’s diaper and felt the corners of her mouth turn up slightly. “Your brother’s diapers haven’t changed all that much, Baby Girl,” Kayla said in a deceptively soothing tone. “And do you know what? He’s a whole month older now. You’re going to love him, Stephanie. Now, listen, in 17 more years, I need you to be a very good girl and take care of him, ok? No calling Child Protective Services when we disappear.” Then she smelled what was coming before she saw it.
“Poopy,” Stephanie said, scrunching up her nose. Kayla chuckled. “Yep, looks like it.” Then “Oh, goodness!” as she opened the diaper. “What are we feeding you?!” Stephanie let out a string of Mama’s. “We’re just about at that toddler poop stage, aren’t we, Baby?”
“Poopy!”
“Yes, I think we’ve established that,” she chuckled again. She couldn’t help but be amused at Stephanie’s pronouncement somewhere between pride and aversion.
Once Stephanie was squared away, Kayla held her daughter in her arms and found courage in her resolve to rescue her husband. Courage. When she walked into Shane’s study, he was seated behind the heavy cherry desk just in front of the fireplace going through paperwork. He knew she was there, but he did not look up.
“Hi Shane,” Kayla said softly. Kayla saw as he stiffened at the sound of her voice.
“Kayla,” he replied. He kept his eyes on his paperwork.
“How—How are you?” she asked a bit too eagerly and knew it.
“Oh, I’m splendid.” Clearly he wasn’t.
The tension in the air was thick, and Kayla just didn’t have the patience to carefully step her way through it. Steve was somewhere out there in the midst of a madman who’d been after her family for years, and she had to do everything she could to get him out of wherever he was.
“Shane, I know you’re angry—“
“Angry?” Now Shane looked up. “Kay, I’m confused. I don’t know how you came up with whatever it is you believe – and I believe that you believe it – but I have to tell you, I don’t understand how it came to you in the middle of nowhere while we were making—”
“Shane, please, do you see that I’ve got Stephanie here?”
Shane remembered himself and looked appropriately contrite. “Of course, sorry. It’s just that I’m …,” he trailed off leaving the sentence unfinished. Kayla took a breath and chose to leave it that way.
“Mama, down,” Stephanie said as she began to squirm against Kayla’s hip.
Kayla watched Shane’s eyes soften as they went directly to the little girl he’d developed a special affinity for and cut to the chase. “What did Chief Tarrington say?” And just like that Shane’s features hardened again.
“Nothing, I left word with him.”
“Word? To call?”
“Yes, to call.”
“So you told him you needed to locate Stefano Dimera?”
“Yes, Kayla, I said I did. What, you don’t trust me, now? First you run screaming from my bed and now you don’t trust that I’ll do what I promise to do?”
“I didn’t—“
“I left word with Tarrington, Kay,” he said wiping a frustrated hand down his face, “and he’ll contact me when he can. After all, he is a little busy with your brother and Raffi Torres, you know, or did you forget that?” She had, actually, and really had to struggle to remember the details of this. These dates and the events that surrounded them were muddled in her head. It was not the best time of her life, and so she hadn’t hung on to that many of these memories.
“What’s the date today?”
“January 28th,” he said with curiosity spread across his face.
“Um … Saturday?” Kayla guessed.
“Wednesday, Kay, are you sure you’re not ill? You’ve gone off and forgotten what day of the week it is?”
“No, I’m fine, I just, you know, I think I’m tired,” she started to bounce a bit. “Thinking about when Tarrington will get back with you, because we don’t have any time.”
“Why?” he immediately came back with. Shane stood up and leaned his hands on his desk. “Why don’t we have time? What suddenly happened?”
“Euh! Mamaaaaaa” Stephanie really wanted down.
“I really need to give Stephanie her breakfast. Can you please just call Tarrington again? Tell him how important it is?”
“Kay, I’m not going to hound the man.”
“Please!” Kayla didn’t bother trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. “Shane, Steve is being held by Stefano Dimera right now! He’s being tortured and brainwashed—“
“Brainwashed?!”
“—And I’m not resting until I have my husband home! I’m not going to lose him again, not when I know the truth!” Kayla’s eyes were blazing with the fire that was alit behind them.
Shane’s frostiness suddenly warmed a bit. “Kay, is that what this is really all about? Losing me?”
Kayla moved toward the door. “No, I –“
He sighed with misplaced sympathy for her. “You’ve lost a lot of people that you’ve cared about, I understand, Kay. But you’re not going to lose me.”
“Shane, no. I thought you understood last night.”
Shane went to her. He was about to run his knuckle down her face but thought better of it when he saw how differently she really was looking at him. Stephanie was squirming in Kayla’s arms, and Shane stared at her. He really stared at her. And he saw that she wasn’t backing down, would likely continue to not back down, and there was something unquestionably different about her. It was like she’d changed overnight. Her face was different, her posture was wrong, and her eyes were etched with something he truly didn’t know.
And it worried him.
This insane insistence that Steve was alive. Out of absolutely nowhere. Unquestionably she believed it was true, that was clear. She believed it. Eight hours ago she believed she loved him but now that woman wasn’t there anymore. Where did she go?
“I, ah, I have to get Stephanie her breakfast. Hopefully, Tarrington will call by the time we’re done.” Kayla gave him a small smile and then headed down to the kitchen. Please let him call, God. Please let him call.
===========
Steve had no clue where he was. The first thing he was aware of after falling away from Kayla’s empty body was the smell of almonds, and between that and his abrupt change in orientation the nausea made him swallow hard. He’d gotten a brief glimpse of his surroundings before he’d squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the jump effect to pass, but that’s all it took for him to know that he was in serious trouble.
If the bare, concrete walls and bars weren’t enough to tip him off, then feel of the standard issue prison mattress and musty, humid smell certainly were. Not good, dude. Not good.
Finally, the nausea and dizziness passed, and Steve prepared for the worst as he opened his eyes. The preparation didn’t disappoint. As he’d feared, he was sitting in a cell, and it was tiny. Inside the three walls of concrete and one of prison bars sat himself, a tiny bed that made him think of the mental institution when it squeaked, and a toilet and sink in the corner. Not another single thing was in this room other than himself. Not a desk or chair or end table, and not a single window, either. In fact, it felt cold. Instinctively he felt like he was underground. Like the previous jump, he’d woken up in unfamiliar territory with no clue as to where or when he was. And more importantly, where was Kayla? He knew better than to call for her, she wasn’t there. F*ck.
Without the benefit of a mirror, Steve had to rely on his other four senses to figure out when he might be. His hand immediately went to his left eye where he found his patch right where it belonged. He also found hair a lot shorter than he generally wore it, but not as short as when he jumped to the Alamain’s boat. The pleasant almond smell was odd and didn’t help him figure out when or where he was. He could tell from looking at his bare arms that he was quite a bit thinner than his last body, but not really leaner. Scrawny, he thought to himself in disgust. Looking at his hands, his wedding ring wasn’t there, his fingernails were filthy, and the backs of his hands sported several scabs. “You’ve been fighting back, that’s for sure,” he said out loud.
As soon as his voice sounded, he heard a hum kick in. It was like an electrical current in the air just waiting to crackle. “What the hell?” A sudden sense of dread wrapped itself around him like a cold shroud. He froze for a moment and waited for something to happen. Nothing did, but the hum didn’t stop. Finally he began moving around the cell. “Hello?” he said softly. The hum increased its decibel level for a moment then leveled off. “Anyone home?” he tested a little more strongly, and once again the hum increased, but then leveled back out. Steve just knew that if he continued speaking, that hum was going to do more than buzz in his ear. So, he took a look around his cell. He looked under the bed, flipped the mattress, took off the sheets and blanket, and felt around the walls. Finding absolutely nothing, he said, “maybe I’ve got a part of us in here, Sweetness,” as he dug into a jeans pocket.
The room erupted. The heaviest, earsplitting screech of thrash guitar metal was assaulting Steve’s ears to such a level that he thought for sure the screaming over the unseen loudspeakers had deafened him right there. Then there was the strobe lighting, which flickered in painful brightness at a maddening rate. And beneath it all was the unmistakable scream of his wife. One constant and never-ending scream on a cruel and tortuous loop. The smell of almonds had been replaced with a wretched odor that he couldn’t identify but was putrid, nonetheless. Automatically, Steve fell to his knees and held his hands over his head, his efforts to protect himself from the attack upon his senses completely pitiful.
It stopped in a matter of seconds, and Steve cursed in relief and anger. “Kayla?!” Before he could register that he could still hear himself, it started all over again. Steve didn’t have to go back to the ground, because he was still there from the first time. This time it lasted two full minutes. When it finally stopped, Steve wiped the cold sweat from his brow and tried to think straight. Has to be after you died. Is it the warehouse?
Steve panted and said softly, “what the hell was that?” The hum increased its pitch again. “This is bad.” He turned to find the bed. “This is real bad, baby.” The sensory assault began a third time for three solid minutes, and Steve’s head threatened to explode. When it ended he rolled on his side and prayed this was just a bad dream. Then, he sat up against the back wall, and a light caught his eye. There ten feet in front of the bars was the door to the small room his cell was in, and beside it was a window. It looked a lot like a police interrogation room. The person he saw standing on the other side of the window made his eyes go wide and his pulse quicken.
“What an unexpected surprise, my good little soldier,” Stefano Dimera said in his not-so-thick Italian accent (though thicker than he last remembered). “Tell me, who told you you could start talking again? And of all the things to say, you choose to utter the name that incurs the most punishment. So, maybe not so good it seems, eh?”
====================
It was all Kayla could to do to keep herself from storming back into Shane’s study. It was ludicrous to her that she was here in peace and safety while Steve was no doubt, at this very moment, being tortured. It wasn’t just the benefit of knowing the past, she could feel it in her bones.
The kitchen smelled of scrambled eggs and toast, both of which Kayla had just made a few minutes before and were now in the belly of her nearly two-year-old daughter. When Shane’s butler, Henderson, first appeared to try to fix breakfast she was startled; she’d forgotten that Shane had staff. But she really needed the distraction of actively taking care of a basic need, like making breakfast, so she politely declined, and Henderson kindly let her.
She tried not to wear a scowl as Stephanie babbled with glee, and it wasn’t actually that hard. Even amidst the turmoil burning within her, Kayla’s face lit up into a joyous smile as she watched the little girl eat her breakfast.
It occurred to Kayla just how ironic and, frankly, absurd it was to be sitting in this mansion; in this beautiful kitchen that might belong to Shane Donovan in this time, but belonged in her time to the very man she knew without a shred of doubt was holding and torturing Steve at this very moment. The thought of being in that man’s house disgusted her. Walking on his floors, sleeping in his rooms, sharing space with the man and his horrible son. The fact that it wasn’t his yet she couldn’t separate in her head. Arriving the way she did was bad enough. But this was Stefano’s house she was making breakfast in, that man had her husband, and that was so much worse. And that’s all there was to it.
“La, la, la,” Stephanie sang, breaking up Kayla’s devolution into anachronistic depression.
“What are you singing about, Baby Girl,” Kayla chuckled.
“Gimme bird, Mama. La, la, la.” Stephanie laughed “La, la, la!” Apparently whatever Stephanie was singing about was comic gold to her, because she kept repeating it and laughing. Then it finally rang a bell for her.
“Big Bird! You want Big Bird?”
Stephanie clapped and yelled, “Snuffy, mama.”
“Ok, I think you’ve got a theme going, here, I get it.”
Kayla cleaned Stephanie up and let her walk herself from the kitchen to the front stairs and up to the room she really didn’t want to go into but that she knew she had to, anyway – Shane’s study. She could hear him on the phone in the communications room beyond his desk, so she helped herself to the television and stared at the stack of VHS tapes sitting next to an archaic VCR.
“Wow,” she said out loud, which was enough to make Shane poke his head out. “I’m sorry, are you on the phone?” she asked hopefully.
“No. If I get a call, I’ll tell you.” Kayla saw immediately (and to her relief, really) that his entire demeanor had changed. Whereas he was confusion and lovesickness moments ago, now his eyes reflected nothing but the ISA wall surrounding him; he was all business now. “Did you need something?”
“No, I—“ Kayla motioned to Stephanie and the TV, and Shane nodded. “Stephanie wanted to watch Sesame Street.”
Shane stood in the doorway and crossed his arms in front of him. “So … you’re going to watch it here?”
Kayla turned on the TV and started flipping to look for the PBS station. “Ah … well, she is. Um, I like Ernie and Bert …” Something was off in this conversation, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.
Shane rolled his eyes. “Kayla, do you think I wont’ tell you what Tarrington said? Is that why you’re babysitting me?”
“Babysitting?” Kayla questioned. “No, I know you’ll tell me. I mean, I hope you will.”
“Then just go home. Not that you’re not welcome to stay, it’s just that you’ve made it perfectly clear that you’re not comfortable here any longer, so why else would you stay if you weren’t making sure to be here when Tarrington calls?”
It finally dawned on her. She had her own apartment, so there was no reason for her to be at Shane’s house. That had already crossed her mind, actually, but Shane had her pegged exactly right. It wasn’t on purpose, but she had not intended on leaving until Tarrington called with news on Stefano’s whereabouts. She wouldn’t have called it “babysitting,” but when you got right down to it, that is what it was.
“And besides, aren’t you on at the hospital today?” She had no idea.
“I’m calling in sick,” she thought fast.
Shane’s eyes flared. “No you are not,” he replied immediately.
“Yes! I am! And I’ll continue to call in every single day until we have Steve out of whatever nightmare he’s jumped into! If that means I lose my job, so be it!”
“Good heavens, Kay, you make it sound like he’s lept into a war.”
If only you knew. And she really wanted to tell him. But somehow she knew that doing that would work against her, not for her.
She struggled with how to reply to that in the awkward silence that followed and pushed the short hair off her forehead. A pang ran through her that ached for Steve. Then, mercifully, the doorbell rang.
“Ding dong!” Stephanie clapped with excitement. Kayla grinned at her daughter’s ability to break the tension.
“Stephanie, who do you think that is at the door?” Shane asked with a cheer he clearly was putting on just for her.
Stephanie was up like a shot and ran out the door to see who the new visitor was. Kayla ran after her and scooped her up before she hit the spiral stairs to the foyer. That’s when Henderson nearly plowed into her.
“Mrs. Johnson, my apologies, madam. I was just coming up to announce Mr. Donovan’s visitor. I see this one might be trying to take my job, then?”
Kayla giggled genuinely. She’d always liked Henderson and wondered where he was now – in 2009.
Shane appeared behind them and asked who was at the door.
“I was just coming up to announce it. ISA Chief Tarrington to see you, sir. I’ve brought him to the sitting room and will fetch some tea.” Then he headed down the back stairs toward the kitchen.
“Chief Tarrington?” Kayla asked. “Is here?
Shane detected the hope in her voice. “On Raffi Torres, I’m sure. Or possibly your brother.”
Shane greeted Tarrington with polite, British formality, while Kayla hovered at the entryway.
“This is quite the unexpected visit,” Shane said, “has something happened in the Raffi Torres case?” Kayla now cautiously entered the room.
“Yes, actually,” Tarrington replied, “but –“
“Kay, this is official ISA business!” Shane spotted and chastised her. “Would you please give me a moment?”
“Well, if I may, Shane,” Tarrington continued, “Mrs. Johnson might want to be here for this.”
A shadow passed across Shane’s face. “Oh?”
Henderson appeared with a tray of toast, jam, and hot tea. A thrill ran through her that made her hopeful. “Is it about Steve?”
Tarrington paused. “Not exactly.”
“Stefano, then? Is it about Stefano?” Kayla was direct and unfazed by the importance and stature of this man standing in front of her. She only saw one thing, and that was her family being put right where it once went wrong.
“As a matter of fact, yes, Mrs. Johnson.”
“You’re kidding,” Shane said, clearly surprised at this bit of information.
“Not hardly,” Tarrington assured him. “The timing of your inquiry last night was apt, to say the least.” Neither of them spoke, though their silence was driven by very different reasons. “Dimera has been working off the grid for years, now. You know that better than anyone, Shane, as you were the last agent to have any live interaction with him.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” Shane bristled. “So, what are you saying, he’s no longer off the grid?”
“Not only am I saying he’s no longer off the grid, but we’ve been tracking him since last summer when he did some business here in Salem.”
“Right under our noses? And you’re only just now telling me this?!”
“We needed to track him back to his primary location, Shane. This is so much larger than a simple business transaction.”
Kayla’s heart sank, and anger seethed through her, as she counted back and feared that she knew just which piece of business Chief Tarrington was referring to.
“And what, exactly, was this business transaction, then?”
Tarrington looked to Kayla, and she saw something in his eyes that chilled her before he quickly looked away. Acknowledgment? Culpability? Or maybe it was entitlement. His near poker face was too inscrutable to know for sure. When he spoke, however, the tone of his voice was unmistakable. He knew Stefano had Steve.
“Human trafficking.”