"Doc."

She turns slowly, her body tensing as she sees him sitting on the bottom step of the staircase. His elbows are resting on his knees and he gives her the impression he has been waiting for her for quite some time.

"I hope you've come to collect your things," she says coldly.

"Doc," he pauses and the air is filled with significance. His gaze is unsettlingly intense but in direct contrast, his voice is soft and melancholy. "Marlena, why are you doing this?"

Grace says nothing as she folds her arms in front of her. Chewing on the inside of her lower lip, she narrows her eyes for a moment and then she shakes her head. "I have better things to do, John."

"What?" John shrugs, his blue eyes piercing in the afternoon sunlight. "What can be more important than saving our marriage, Marlena? Please tell me that."

"You're wasting your time." Grace turns inexplicably and progresses to the French doors, which she closes and fastens. "And you're wasting mine. Why don't you just get your stuff and *go*?"
"Doc, for *God's* sake, quit it with this tough woman act and *talk* to me," John pushes himself up from the steps, his body alive with tension.
"*Act*?" she repeats angrily as she turns around. "You think this is some kind of *act* for your benefit?"
"To be quite honest, I don't know what it is," John's sigh betrays his frustration. "I only wish I knew. Then maybe I'd be able to get *through* to you somehow."

"Have you stopped to think that maybe this is just the reaction of a woman who is *tired* of being taken for granted?" Grace demands coldly. "You think I really want to forgive you so you can walk all over me, yet *again*, when you get bored next time?"
"*Bored*?" John can't believe what he is hearing. "You think I made the biggest screw-up of my *life* because I was *bored*?!"
"I don't really care *why* you did it John," Grace sighs. "You did it and that's enough."
"I did it because the old man was playing his *damned* mind games again. Because he screwed with my head. You think I would have left *you* on our honeymoon on purpose?"

"To be quite honest John, I don't know what I think any more." Grace faces off with him. If he's going to force her to have this conversation, she's going to make him suffer. "After all, how many times have you walked away from me already? Why should one more make any difference to you? Why should the fact that we were *married* make any difference? It didn't before."

"What do you mean, before?" John looks confused.
"When I came back to you, when I escaped from San Cristobal. We were *married* then John. That didn't make any difference to you, did it?"

"Of *course* it made a difference Doc, you know how much I loved you..." The corners of his eyes crinkle with pain and confusion. "Baby, how much I've always loved you, how much I *still* love you."
"So, if you loved me so much," Grace raises her eyebrows and purses her lips dispassionately, "then why did you sleep with Hope on that submarine? Tell me that will you? I'd really like to hear the answer to that one."

"It wasn't Hope, it was *Gina*!" John lifts his hands in the form of a plea. "Honey, I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't know..."

"That is *so* pathetic." She hisses coldly. "You could have fought it, if you'd really wanted to. If you had *really* loved me like you say you love me, some little part of you would have known that what you were doing was *wrong*, John. You wouldn't have been able to do it, no matter who you thought she was or when you thought it was."

"It's not that simple Doc," John's desperation is returning as he grasps her arm. "Stefano had some kind of chip device planted in my head. Gina was able to control me through that chip."
"Do you know how absolutely pitiful you sound?" her scornful laugh cuts the air between them. "You can't even take responsibility for your own actions and you expect me to let you move back into my life? I don't *think* so John."

"*Please*, Marlena," John replies wearily. "All right, there *is* no excuse for what I did. It was *in*excusable. But I'm asking you to please think about what you are doing before you make this irreversible."

"Oh I have thought about it," Grace replies airily. "Don't worry yourself on that account John. I have full account of my faculties and I'm completely aware of what I am doing and what the implications are. And to tell you the truth, I couldn't feel better about it."

John is stunned by her flippancy and she takes the opportunity to cross the room in front of him. By the time he has regained his senses enough to follow her, she is halfway up the stairs.

He catches up to her just inside the bedroom door and catches her arm, spinning her around to face him.

"All right Doc, I've had about enough of this. I don't buy it."
"Buy what?" she asks innocently.
"You said that this wasn't an act, but I don't believe you." His mouth is set in a thin line as he looks angrily at her. "The Marlena I know isn't this cold, this uncaring. Doc, I *know* I hurt you and you have every right to be angry, but you can't just shut me out like this and pretend that it doesn't matter. We both know *how* much it does matter."

"Oh, we do, do we?" Grace's lips purse as she glowers at him. But what is even more disconcerting than his sudden outburst, is the way her body is reacting to his close proximity. Her heart is thumping in her chest and she feels as though her cheeks are flaming. But she refuses to let herself show any outward signs of discomfort as she fights for self-control. "And just how do you come to that conclusion, John?"

"Like this." His lips flicker into a little smirk as he pushes her roughly against the wall and bends his head to hers. Grace feels his lips, hot against hers and his tongue slides possessively into her mouth. The excitement floods through her as she finds herself reacting instinctively to his touch and her body begins to move with his.

And then she comes to her senses and struggles to push him away. He is so busy looking pleased with himself that he does not see the hand that comes flying towards him. Grace's palm connects with his jaw with an almighty smack and he rocks back on his heels.

"What the-?"
"Get *out*!" she commands in a low threatening voice.

When he says nothing, Grace's self control finally crumbles. "You think you can just walk in here and say sorry and it will be as though nothing happened? You think you can just say some pretty words and poor, needy Marlena will fall back into your arms like some grateful, *feeble* ingénue?" Her face is red as her fists curl up. "You *really* are full of yourself, aren't you?"

"It's not like that..." John shakes his head but he is lost for words.
"Yes it *is* like that," Grace's voice is rising in pitch as she faces John. "It's *always* been about you, about what you wanted, or didn't want. Well, it's over John. I don't want *you* anymore and I don't give a fuck how you feel about it. I just want you out of my house and out of my life. *Now*."

John swallows, his heart hammering soundly inside his ribcage as he faces his irate wife. He suddenly feels as if he can't breathe as she reaches over to the top of the dresser beside her and flings a picture at him. It barely misses him and it hits the open door, shattering as it falls to the ground.

"Get *out*!" She screams at him, her fists curled up into tight little balls by her side. "Get the *fuck* out of my house, you cheating, lying *bastard*!"

John looks grief-stricken as he backs away from her. He doesn't know what to do; everything he's said and done so far has only made this worse, only made her angrier and more determined. He has no more options. Not right now anyway.

"All right." He nods, his voice quiet. "I'll go. But I'm not leaving for good, Marlena. Because I don't believe you. I don't believe that this is what you *really* want. Not deep down." He aches at the iciness of her gaze but he does not let it deter him. "So when you want to talk, just call me and I'll be here."

"I *won't*," she returns bitterly. "You can believe *that*, John."

"I'll be seeing you, Doc."

He turns and walks from the room and Grace stares murderously after him.

"Not if I have any say in it you won't."

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