"Doc!" The voice makes Grace's blood chill in her veins. It has been altered, but there is still enough of the old there that she knows immediately who has hailed her. She keeps walking but the voice sounds again, this time directly behind her. "Doc, stop will you?" She feels the hand on her arm and the hair on the back of her neck stands, literally, on end.
Swinging around, she wrenches her arm free, not bothering to hide the disgust that blazes in her beautiful hazel eyes. "Don't *touch* me!" she hisses. "Don't you *ever* lay your filthy hands on me again!"
Roman blinks and takes a step backwards. "Marlena?"
Take it easy Grace, don't blow it. Not yet. He will know when the time is right.
"Oh God Roman, I'm so sorry," she feigns horror at the supposed misunderstanding. "I... I haven't been sleeping well and I seem to be bumping into Stefano every five minutes."
"Hey, it's okay Doc," Roman pulls his hands up into the air with a taut smile. "Don't have to explain to me."
"I really am sorry," she slips off her sunglasses and is only just able to hide the flinch as she meets those familiar, loathsome eyes. The last thing she wants to do is apologize to this bastard and her mind is working quickly. "I don't know what came over me."
"Well, I did hear that there's some kind of problem between you and John," Roman's sympathy is so patently false that Grace has the urge to ram his smug attitude right down his throat. She hates him with ever fiber of her being and it is all she can do to remain civil. "Do you wanna talk about it?" He motions to the door that leads to the Brady Pub.
"*No*." She shakes her head and then suddenly, a thought strikes her. "Uh, I have an appointment shortly. But perhaps we could meet up later?"
"Sure thing, Doc." Roman nods accommodatingly and Grace feels dirty, even as his eyes flicker over her. "Where d'you wanna meet?"
"How about..." she pauses as her mind works quickly, "...I come over to the house? Say, about eight?"
"Sure," Roman nods with a self-satisfied smile and Grace again fights the urge to wipe it off his face. But she knows, there is plenty of time for that... later. And if he doesn't remember now, he certainly will by the time she is finished with him.
~
It is a little after eight when Grace arrives at the house Marlena used to share with Roman. But that was a lifetime ago and Marlena is gone, as is Roman. All that is left now, are loose ends. And Grace intends to tidy some of those tonight.
She checks her hair in the mirror of the small compact that she carries in her bag and tucks away a stray strand. The long leather coat that she wears slithers around the close-fitting black boot-leg pants. The coat swings open to reveal the white shirt that is knotted above a taut midriff and Grace smiles. Elegant and sexy but extremely functional. Hopefully the garments will still be salvageable after the nights work, but if not... well, John Black's credit card will get another workout regardless.
She knocks on the door, wrapping the strap of her rather outsized purse around her free hand as she does so. Roman answers almost immediately and leers at the sight of her. "Doc, right on time."
"Aren't I always?"
Her smile is seductive and she knows the effect it will have so she walks on into the house without even waiting to see the reaction.
"Uh, how about a drink?" Roman scurries behind her, aiming for the bottle of claret that sits alongside the rather obvious candles.
"Mmmm," she looks around the living room, trying to draw a comparison from her recollections of Marlena and Roman's life. "I'd like a martini please."
"A martini?" Roman stops, his hand on the bottle.
"Yes," she turns hard eyes on him, "is that a problem?"
"Well... no," Roman shakes his head, a little confused by her sudden change of mood. "I just never knew that you liked martinis that's all. I thought you said you found them too bitter."
"Oh come on now, *Roman*." Her smile is cold and calculating. "*I* always drank martinis. Surely you can't have forgotten. It wasn't *that* long ago, after all."
"What are you talking about Marlena?" Roman's face crumples in confusion as he tries to make sense of what his ex-wife is saying.
"Oh never mind," she waves off his question as she looks around again, disdain now lighting her expression. "What *have* you done to this place Roman? It looks positively garish."
"I'm sorry?" Roman's bewilderment deepens as he stares at Marlena. This is *so* unlike her that if he didn't know her so well, he'd think he was talking to a stranger.
"Martini?" Grace snaps her fingers impatiently as she turns back to him. "At least point me in the right direction and let me make it myself."
"Uh, sure," Roman makes his way to the liquor cabinet and Grace wanders the room, touching knick-knacks as she waits for him to fix her drink.
On the table by the stairs, she sees there is a picture of 'Roman' with Marlena and her skin crawls at the realization of just how far this faux Roman Brady has infiltrated himself into the unknowing and innocent Marlena's life. She feels violated and furious that Stefano would knowingly send this man back into her life.
"Here you go Doc," the fake Roman hands her the drink and she takes a sip. That's one thing Lamont was always good at, making a decent Martini. Unfortunately, it is the only good memory she has of the man. And that's not about to change any time soon with the way he is eyeing her.
"Thanks." She can feel the anger growing within her but she knows she has to contain it, for now. It would not do to lose control too early and betray herself. She lowers the drink and runs a finger over the tarnished silver frame that contains a past that is nothing but a lie. "Tell me Roman, why do you keep this?"
"It's our past, Doc," Roman says carefully. "They are memories that I don't want to leave behind. Whatever happened between us, we had some great times."
"But our past is just that," Grace affirms. "The past. Why do you insist on holding onto it?" She pauses, as though the thought has suddenly struck her. "Unless...."
Her laughter cuts between them with scornful fullness. "Oh Roman. Surely you can't believe that there's still a chance that I might come back to you?" She lets the amusement linger with an audible chuckle. "Oh, *please*."
"Marlena, I..." he stiffens noticeably. There is something so not right about this moment. Her golden eyes are suddenly unfamiliar, but at the same time.... "I know that things aren't right between you and John. I was only hoping-"
"Only hoping to take advantage of 'poor' Marlena's pain and confusion," Grace interrupts derisively, a nasty edge to her tone. She's finding it hard to control her antipathy in such close proximity to Lamont and she curls her fist into a ball to gain a little focus and control. "That's just your style isn't it?"
"*No*! I was hoping to be your *friend*," Roman refutes the allegations, feeling somehow as though he is trapped in a nightmare of no waking.
"Well, that's a new term for it," Grace makes no effort to hide her hatred any longer and she skewers him with a disgusted glare. "You're *pathetic*. A poor, pathetic, sad little man with no life and no future."
She moves closer to Roman, who is now unable to conjure a coherent thought he is so shocked. "I wouldn't come to you. I wouldn't let you even so much as *touch* me." A sneer curls her lips as the proximity of him triggers memories of that day so long ago. Memories of a fear she has promised herself she will never feel again. She will show him who has the power now. "You're not man enough for a woman like me."
"Shut up!" Roman, or the man that believes he is Roman, is suddenly flushed with a burst of irrational anger, as some artificial veneer of control within him, snaps. How *dare* this woman come into his home and insult him? How dare she walk around, acting like she is so much better than him, lording her superiority over him? Not man enough? He'll show her exactly how much man he is...
And suddenly he sees that day almost thirteen years when he had her beneath him, her dress torn and her golden hair tangled in his fingers and he wants to see that terror in her eyes again. He'll show her...
"Shut *up*!" he bellows as he grabs a hold of her coat and slams her up against the wall. But this time, Grace is ready for him. More than ready. She has waited too long for this moment.
All it takes is a swift movement, a forceful upwards thrust with her knee, and Roman Brady's doppelganger is doubled over with agonized groans.
Grace grimaces, but she doesn't make a sound as she drags him across the living room floor to the door. Opening it, she peers outside as she belts up her coat. There seems to be nothing untoward outside and stepping back inside, she pulls a black hat out of her bag and pulls it firmly over the crown of her head, tucking her tell-tale blonde hair under the edges.
Then she bends and pushes Lamont into a sitting position. He's heavy, and she is not as strong and fit as she once was, but somehow she manages to heft his body into a semi-standing position.
That man that would be Roman Brady struggles briefly until he realizes, with breathtaking clarity, that the object that's digging into his ribcage is not Marlena's elbow, but rather the barrel of a small-caliber pistol.
"That's right," she hisses in his ear, "just to the car, okay hotshot?" He nods groggily and Grace swings the door closed.
They still haven't exchanged a single word twenty minutes later when Grace nudges him into the deserted warehouse and locks the door behind her.