The sound of Grace's scream cuts through the air and John's heart rate spikes as he is flooded with fear.
"Grace! Where are you?" There is nothing and he feels panic welling as he takes off at a sprint in the direction that he thinks the sound came from. "Hang on, I'm coming to get you. Just hold on!"
Jesus, please let her be all right. Please don't let anything have happened to her. Please God, if I never ask you for anything else again, please let her be all right!
He crashes through the undergrowth, his heart in his mouth. "Where are you?!" A branch whips him in the face and he slaps a hand to his cheek, feeling the warm blood seep between his fingers. "Damnit! *Grace*!"
He hears another shriek from nearby and he veers to his right before he even has a conscious thought. His instinct is vindicated as he sees a flash of red in front of him.
She is struggling to get to her feet, but even as she does, she crumples to the ground again. There is no cry of pain this time, but John can see the agony on her face as he nears her. It doesn't quell the relief that floods him as he asses her situation and reaches the conclusion that she's in no critical danger.
"What happened?" he demands as he reaches her.
"Stay away from me!" her words are muffled by the sob that she chokes back.
"Let me have a look at it," he crouches down beside her and reaches for the leg she is grasping.
"I said STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!" She flails at him with her fists as he tries to get close to her. "Don't you *dare* touch me!"
"Look, we can do this the easy way," John growls as he grabs her wrists. He holds them tight between them so that she can't avoid his gaze. "Or we can do it the hard way. I don't really care which it is, but we're going to do it, okay? You're not going anywhere on that ankle without my help, and we both know it."
"You know *shit*!" Grace tries to look away, but he has her caught fast. She is helpless, more than ever and she can't stand it.
"Okay, you had your chance!" he pulls her upwards as he stands and before she realizes what has happened, she is slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and he is walking back in the direction of the cabin.
"Put me down! You *bastard*, put me down!" She hammers ineffectually against his buttocks and gives a shriek of anger as he bursts into laughter. "What the *hell*!?"
"I was just thinking that for a woman who claims to be nothing like Doc, you couldn't be more like her at this moment. Déjà vu is a funny thing." He can't help the smile that curves his lips as his memory traces the distant paths back to West Virginia and the beautiful, spirited lady doctor that had fought him during every step of their journey of discovery.
"What the hell are you-" Grace falls silent as she has her own sudden flash of déjà vu. She tries to shrug the memory away, but it is tenacious and she is faced with the vision of a much younger John and her own intense attraction to him. No! Marlena's attraction.
Her body goes limp and she shuts her eyes tightly, willing the surge of pain in her chest to dissipate. She can't do this. She has to focus on working out how to get away from John.
Like you'll be going anywhere on that ankle... She grits her teeth in frustration and anger at her own stupidity. She's let John Black rattle her and as a result, she's done the unforgivable. She's been careless and now she has to face the fact that she won't be going anywhere in a hurry. Whether she likes it or not, she is stuck with John in that dingy shack for the foreseeable future.
John stops abruptly and she realizes they are back at the cabin. He bends over and sets her on the ground and points to the tree stump. "Sit down."
"I don't take orders-"
"I said, *sit down*!" John is not brooking any argument.
Grace narrows her eyes resentfully, but she takes a seat on the stump without any further disagreement. However, her body language impresses upon John that she is anything but compliant.
"You know that was stupid, don't you?" John echoes her thoughts as he unzips her boot.
"When I want the benefit of your infinite wisdom, I'll ask for i-" Grace bites back a cry of pain as he slides her boot off and examines her rapidly swelling ankle.
"It's not broken, just badly sprained," he looks up at her. "Looks like we won't be going anywhere for a couple of days."
Grace glares at him and then looks away in disgust. The disgust is as much at herself as at him. She can feel the tears stinging her eyes and she despises herself for her weakness. For allowing him to get to her so much that she fled, like a scared child.
She can barely comprehend what has happened this morning. One moment, she was completely in control, she had John just where she wanted him, and the next, she was charging through the woods like a wounded animal.
She has forgotten the very first rules she learnt under Stefano's tutelage. Do not let them in. Do not let them see you. Do not let them hurt you or scare you.
She can recall Stefano watching her proudly as she completed her training. On an idyllic island paradise, she had fought her first adversary and she had killed him. Even now, she can taste the thrill and the lust that coursed through her as she severed his jugular with her favorite blade.
Stefano had smiled and then roared with laughter as she had sauntered up to him, the blood of the dead man still on her hands and claimed a passionate kiss from him.
He had taken a step back and looked at her with admiration. You have the power. You *are* the power. Grace, you own this world, go out and take what is rightfully yours.
And she had.
Together they had taken so much. They had deceived and plundered and destroyed and she had loved every moment of it. The mere thrill of the chase and kill was enough to satisfy her, although a good, hard man at the end of it all was always a welcome bonus. It was one that Stefano had always allowed her. He had known that to refuse her this would be to risk losing her.
She refused to be shackled, her free spirit needed to soar. And it had, until she had woken in a hospital room and seen John Black.
Dammit! She can't understand why she can't just kill him and be done with it. There are so many ways she could do it. She can make it clean and quick and she can walk away, free of his hold on her. Or she can make it slow and painful, she can make him beg for his life and then listen to his screams as she takes it away. A smile curves her lips as she imagines his face as he realizes his beloved 'Marlena' is going to destroy him.
John is watching her and her expression sends chills through him as she turns back and casts her gaze over him.
"What?" he demands.
"Just thinking..." she says offhandedly.
"About what?" He can't help himself. She's thrown him again with her change of moods and he has to know what's on her mind now.
"You don't want to know." She raises her eyebrows and her smile is cool. Keep him off-balance Grace. Don't let him in, don't let him see you.
Part of her would almost like to share her thoughts with him. It would be worth it, just to see the expression on his face. But, she knows, there is plenty of time for that. She's not ready to kill him yet. It wouldn't be satisfying enough. She needs to own him body and soul. When she's broken him, then the real fun will begin.
Until then, she needs to play the game. And she knows, after this morning, that she needs to change the rules. It's time for a new tack. Outright, aggressive seduction hasn't worked so it's time to get subtle. It's not a word that she dusts off from her vocabulary often, but she's capable of it. She knows when men won't be seduced, it's usually because they want to think they're doing the seducing.
"Stay there," John growls as he pushes himself off his knees.
"Like you so brilliantly pointed out," she smiles sweetly, "I won't be going anywhere."
John ignores the acidity in her voice and heads for the cabin. A minute later, he emerges with a towel which he proceeds to tear into strips.
"There's no ice, but at least we can strap it to stop it swelling any further," he kneels down again.
"My, my, you certainly are sharp with the observations today, aren't you, John?" There is a hint of laughter in her voice and she raises her ankle slightly as John drops his head. "See, a little astuteness and I'm putty in your hands," there is almost a purr in her voice as she adds, "well, at least, I'd like to be..."
"Stop it." His voice is low, but there is force in it. "We've just been through this."
"I know," she grins, "but I never get tired of seeing you squirm, baby."
"Don't call me that!" His teeth are gritted and he pulls the fabric in his fingers a little harder than he anticipated.
"Ow!" Grace's breath catches but she recovers immediately. "Okay, rough is good, I can do rough. Or you can do me rough, whatever you prefer."
"Jesus, would you just let it be!" John raises his head, his eyes hard. "I'm not interested. How many different ways do I have to say it?"
"Doesn't matter how many times you say it John," her eyes glitter seductively as she reaches out and draws a finger down his forearm. "As long as your body tells me otherwise, I'm not going to believe a word you say."
For all the control he'd had earlier, John has none of it now. She has turned the tables and she is back in command. And with the mere application of her touch, John can feel the anger and the desire rising, fighting for dominance inside of him. He can feel the churning in his stomach and the nerves burning under his tightening, stretching skin. She's right, he wants her. He wants her so much it's physically painful.
"Listen!" He angrily yanks the fabric around her ankle and fastens it in a knot. He can't even look at her as he spits the words out, staccato and painfully sharp. "I *don't* *want* you. I can't *stand* you. I'm going to get my wife back and you're only getting in the way, and you're pissing me *off*, so shut the hell up and leave me alone!"
He's surprised when there is no snappy retort and even more surprised when he looks up and sees her expression. She is simply blinking in shock and for a moment, she looks so like Marlena, it takes his breath away.
The silence stretches between them as their gaze locks. The moment seems interminable and John's confusion grows with each second. He can't keep up with her and he's unsure whether this is just another phase in her game. Whatever it is, he knows he can't let her get to him. Can't let her get under his skin, or he's doomed.
Finally, Grace breaks the spell by pulling away from John and trying to get up. She smothers a gasp of pain as she tries to put some weight on her ankle and John is immediately by her side.
"Here, let me."
"I'm fine." Her voice is husky. "Leave me alone."
"Look," John's voice softens. "Don't be so damn stubborn. At least let me help you get to the cabin."
She bats away his hands angrily and her voice cracks as she speaks. "I don't *want* your help."
"Well, you're going to get it, whether you like it or not." He gives her no other warning but scoops her up in his arms. He's not prepared for the stifled sob that escapes her as she looks away and he feels something akin to guilt sweep through him.
He says nothing. He can't be sure what is real and what are her lies. He doesn't trust her any more than he would trust Stefano. But he has to find a way of breaking through to Marlena and he has to do it soon. Because if he doesn't, he knows Grace will become too much of a temptation to the mercenary and they will both be lost forever.