It is when the paramedics have left with the unconscious Hope that John looks over at Marlena. She is curled up on the couch looking out of the window and he goes quietly to her. Sitting down beside her, he looks into the distance, trying to see what she is looking at.
"Julie and Doug are going to meet Bo at the hospital. They said they'd phone us when they know something about her condition. They said there's no point in us going down there."
"Good," she murmurs softly but she tenses as he touches her hand.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks gently.
"Not really," she shakes her head. The very last thing she wants is to sit here talking with John Black. Not given the day that she has had.
He moves his fingers over her skin and an involuntary shiver runs through her. She tries to pull away from him, every nerve in her body on edge. She hates this feeling; she hates the way her body reacts when she is around him. She doesn't want to *want* him. Of all the people in the world that she could desire, the very last one she intended to lust after was John Black. The reality is she hates him and she just wants him the hell out of her apartment and out of her life.
"It's been a hard few weeks, I know Doc," he says tenderly. "I wish you'd let me help you." He can feel his heart pounding as he waits for her to speak. This is the first time in weeks that he has been this close to her and they've not been fighting. His body can't help to react to her proximity. He needs her so badly, needs to make things right for her again, to make her happy.
"I don't need your kind of help, John," Grace says tensely. She can't stand his tender professions of caring and wanting to help. She doesn't believe them for a moment. After all, a man who abandons his wife, not to mention screwing his sister-in-law, is hardly the essence of nobility. "That's what got us here in the first place."
"That's hardly fair Doc," he says, noticing that her fingers have curled into a ball beneath his touch.
"Please don't talk to me about fairness," she says bitterly. "This world isn't fair. I've accepted that, maybe you should too."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks uncertainly.
"That I want you to go," she sighs. "It's been a hell of a long day, John. I just want to get some sleep."
"Marlena, honey," his eyes do a bad job of hiding his pain at her brush off. "Don't ask me to leave you. I can't leave you like this."
"John, you have no choice," she tells him curtly. "You don't live here any more. This is my house and I'm asking you to leave."
John stares at her, his need to protect her warring with his common sense, which says that if he makes her angry now, he'll lose any chance of regaining her trust.
"All right," he nods finally, thankful at least that she is not screaming at him for a change. "But only on one condition."
"What's that?" Grace looks up at him for the first time and finds herself transfixed by the brilliant blue eyes that are haunting her waking dreams. For a moment she finds herself powerless to resist being drawn in by his soft words and the hint of a smile that curves his lips.
"That you have dinner with me tomorrow. No strings attached," he holds up his hands. "I just want the opportunity to talk to you." He pauses and when she doesn't put up any argument, he decides to push his luck. "And perhaps to remind you of how good we can be together."
Grace studies him, taking in his uncertainty, which is mingled with a certain amount of self-assurance. She can tell he truly believes that if he can just get Marlena to spend some time with him, to talk with him, then he can win her back. But he has no idea.
Grace raises her eyebrows and allows herself to feel a small measure of satisfaction. Just the thought eases her hostility. He will not even see her coming, and she will use his love for Marlena to break him. It won't be the first time, and she's sure it won't be the last. It might even be quite enjoyable.
"You don't give up, do you?" A small smile touches her lips.
"Not on you," he shakes his head assuredly. "Not on us Doc. Not ever."
Well, we'll just see about *that*, won't we John......?
Grace's smile hides her thoughts and she nods. "All right then. Obviously I'm not going to get a break here, so I give in. Whatever you want."
"You won't regret it honey," his baby blues twinkle impossibly bright. " I promise you that. How about I pick you up at six?"
"Hmmmm," Grace pretends to look thoughtful.
She doesn't want to be seen out with John. It might get back to Stefano and she knows he will be bothered by what she is planning. It is much better to present it to him as a fait accompli when it is all done and finished and he cannot argue the merits with her. And besides, a whole evening, talking in a restaurant? She doesn't need a *whole* evening for what she has in mind. And the less talking, the better. All round.
"How about.... you just come over and we order dinner in?" she suggests with a semblance of shyness in her manner. "I think it might just be easier to talk in familiar surroundings," she adds, by way of explanation.
"Well... okay," John nods, a little surprised by her proposal. He had figured that she'd want to make the first moves on neutral territory. But then, maybe Hope's accident has shaken her enough that she needs something to hold on to. "I'll see you at six then?"
When she nods, he finally lets his expression to relax into a slight smile. But it quickly reverts to concern as he squeezes her tightly clenched fingers. "Try not to worry about Hope, Doc. She's in the best hands possible."
"Okay," Grace gives him a saccharine smile that belies her true feelings. "I'll try."
"That's my girl." John pushes himself up from the sofa and leans over to drop a kiss on the top of her head. Grace cringes as he straightens. "I'll see you tomorrow, Doc."
~
Grace is feeling considerably more composed when she saunters into work the following morning. The news that Hope has lost her baby and has lapsed into a deep coma is music to her ears and the thought of the grief-stricken Brady family is enough to bring a wicked smile to her face.
"Dr. Evans?" Cynthia pokes her head around the corner of the door.
"Mmm-hmmm?" Grace shuffles a few papers on Marlena's desk.
"Dr. Wesley called. He wants you to go straight up to his office when you arrive."
"I'll just bet he does," Grace picks up her diary and then looks up. "That will be all, Cynthia."
"Uh.... yeah, okay," Cynthia nods and closes the door behind her as Grace flicks through her diary.
Today is thankfully a paperwork day. Not that Grace has any intention of actually *doing* any. Maybe a long lunch and then a spot of shopping will make the afternoon go a little more quickly. Or maybe she could just ditch work all together and spend the afternoon making herself a little "fun"...
Dropping into her chair, she swings round to face the window and leans back as she reaches for the phone. A quick call finds her gratified to discover that Hope's condition has not improved and she smiles as she considers just what to do next. It's really too bad Craig's little emotional meltdown had to spoil her fun. He'd had the potential to keep her amused for hours if she put her mind to it.
Sighing, she leans over and picks the new French Vogue out of her bag and flicks through it. There are so many changes in Europe that she has to catch up on. It would be good to get a little of a head start before she heads there with Stefano. Considering how sweetly things with the Brady's are progressing, it surely can't be that long now.
"Marlena!"
She looks up in surprise and then spins round to see a furious Craig standing in the doorway. "Dr. Wesley. I would say it's a pleasant surprise, but then, we both know I'd be lying." She leans back in her chair again and crosses her legs, revealing an expanse of slender thigh that Craig knows intimately.
Craig closes the office door and advances into her office, his arms crossed. "I know Cynthia gave you my message."
"Oh charming, you have my secretary spying on me now too I suppose?" Grace throws her magazine on her desk and crosses her own arms. "Remind me to fire her after this conversation is over."
"You'll be lucky if you have the authority to order a cup of coffee in this hospital by the time I'm finished with you," Craig barks. "I requested your presence in my office Marlena. Would you like to tell me why I had to come down here?"
"I was busy," Grace shrugs.
"Yes," Craig indicates the magazine on her desk with due sarcasm, "so I see."
"Get to the point Wesley," she says coldly. "I have things to do."
"Not around here you don't," he moves towards her desk, standing over her. "That's why I wanted to see you. You're suspended pending an investigation of the handling of one of your patients."
"*My* patients?" she looks confused.
"Braden Davies," for the first time, Craig begins to look a little smug. "Ring a bell?"
"Yes," she nods, "I've been seeing Braden for several months now."
"*Were* seeing Braden," Craig corrects. "He killed himself last night. It was an overdose of sleeping pills that *you* prescribed, Marlena."
~
"Bo?" The door opens to reveal a bleary-eyed and unshaven Bo and John waits tentatively for his response. He half-way expects Bo to send him packing, so he is surprised when Bo waves him in.
"Sorry bout the mess," Bo scratches his chin exhaustedly. "I didn't sleep last night."
"That's okay bro," John nods as he sits on the couch. "Any news on Hope?"
"Nothing new as of about half an hour ago." Bo looks around vacantly and then suddenly looks back at John. "Uh...coffee? Can I get you coffee?"
"Only if you're making it," John shrugs.
"Might wake me up," Bo grunts as he shuffles off to the kitchen.
He returns five minutes later with two piping hot cups of coffee and hands one to John. Perching himself on a stool, he takes a mouthful of his own brew then and shakes his head, making a face at the bitterness.
"I guess you're wondering what I'm doing here, huh?" John stares at his own cup.
"Thought had crossed my mind," Bo shrugs diffidently.
"I...." John pauses and then eventually sighs in frustration as he looks up at Bo. "I care about you, man. You're my brother... at least, I still think of you as my brother. I'm just so sorry about Hope."
"Yeah," Bo nods slowly. "Yeah, I know." He looks up at John, his brown eyes riddled with pain and guilt. "I'm sorry too. It was your kid."
"Maybe," John shrugs himself. "That's not really important right now. If there's anything I can do to help, Bo."
Bo looks up at John and the memory of yesterday on the boat overwhelms him and he looks away. John doesn’t miss the significance of that gesture, it's all too familiar, and he frowns. "What is it, man?"
Bo isn't sure he wants to talk about this, but the guilt is eating him alive and he has to tell someone. Maybe John is the only one who will understand. Or maybe he will want to kill him. Either way....
"It's my fault..." he takes another gulp of the pungent concoction and screws up his courage. "It's my fault that Hope went to see Marlena."
"How is it your fault?" John is bemused by Bo's statement. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine."
"No, John, you don't understand," Bo swallows with difficulty and then looks up at John. "It's my fault because Hope found Marlena and I together on the boat, and if she hadn't found us, I don't know what would have happened."