Pain. Darkness. Noise. Pain. Movement. Pain. Pain.
The agonizing tearing pain inside her skull threatens to repeal consciousness as Grace tries to lift her head. She moans softly and drops her head back down, but that isn't much better as she bounces against the pliable leather she is lying on. The jostling exacerbates the pain; every bump shooting hot spikes of agony through her head.
For a long while, she just stays put, trying to gain her bearings and gather some strength as she wills the pain away. Beyond her eyelids, it seems dark still. There's no heat from a threatening sun and she construes that it is not yet dawn. Of course she won't know until she opens her eyes, but the thought of that induces a nauseous flutter in her stomach and she curls her legs up.
She's not sure how much time has passed when she finally allows her eyelids to flicker open. She is staring at the roof of the car and it shimmers back and forth until she blinks several times. Rolling her head to the side, she can see John's arm. He's sitting in the drivers seat and the sleeve of his shirt is rolled up, revealing the wiry muscles of his forearm.
Beyond John, there is darkness. They appear to be on an open road, maybe an interstate. Wherever they are, it's the middle of nowhere because there are no lights.
She lifts her head slightly but there is no sign of dawn anywhere on the horizon. There is no way of telling where they are or where they are going. She drops her head back to the seat with a throaty groan.
"Good. I was starting to get a little worried." John is looking at her and she glares at him before he flicks his eyes back to the road. His voice is even and devoid of emotion and it only serves to escalate Grace's bad temper.
"Too bad you weren't so worried when you just about cracked my skull open," she says acerbically as she lifts her hand to her forehead.
"Sorry about that," John replies in a tone that makes it clear how very *not* sorry he is. "Unfortunately, you didn't leave me much choice."
Grace glares murderously at him. She can't believe she let herself get into this situation. He should never have been able to take her. Why the *hell* had she screamed for Stefano? Why hadn't she fought him on her own terms?
Because he had a gun and he was looking to be pretty liberal with the distribution of the bullets, a small voice in the back of her head reasons.
Somehow it doesn't help that much. She doesn't want reasonable explanations. She wants out of here. She wants to be in Europe spending John's money and flirting with Stefano.
Her anger flares up, treacherous and unyielding.
"Do you really think this is going to work?" she demands scathingly. The pain is still blinding and it's making her nauseous and cranky. "You have to know I'll find some way to get away from you. And of course, Stefano *will* hunt you down." She pauses as she struggles to prop herself up slightly. Then she smirks, despite the pounding in her head.
The expression on her face catches John unawares and slices neatly through the wall he has constructed so carefully around his emotions in the last few hours. He knows she's not Marlena, and he accepts that. Intellectually. But to hear her talk, to see her eyes and her lips move in some twisted perversion of the woman he loves, it makes him want to cry.
"Your quest is hopeless anyway. Your sweet, naïve Marlena is gone. Nothing you can do with me, or to me," she lifts one expressive eyebrow, " is going to change that. You might as well accept it and save yourself a lot of misery."
Her words shatter John's self-assurance and for a moment he feels a wave of panic careen through him. He's on the run from the law and he has no idea what to do, or where to go. He has no idea how to go about finding Marlena, or even if she can be found. And then his panic passes and his resolve strengthens. Marlena. She's his reason and she's his resolve. It's that simple.
"It's not going to happen," he shakes his head, his voice firm and sure. "You're a liar. Of course you want me to believe that Marlena is unreachable. Which is exactly why I don't think she is. And I don't care how long it takes or what I have to do."
Grace is infuriated by his smug replies. She wants to rattle him. She wants to scare him so badly that he won't know where to turn. She wants to destroy every tiny shred of hope that thrives inside his faithless heart. She will not allow him to have the upper hand.
"Oh, you can believe me, honey," she chuckles dryly. And then she goes for the jugular. "Your poor *fragile* Marlena is gone. It was *you* that broke her, John. You tore her heart out and you destroyed her faith in you. What makes you think she'd *want* to come back to you, even if she could?"
Her words hit their intended target and John feels the panic well up inside him again. He knows what she's trying to do, but the fact is, there's more than a grain of truth to her words. His breath falters. He feels like he has been punched in the gut and he can't find the way to draw the air back into his lungs.
Get a grip on yourself, Black. She's trying to unnerve you. She's lying, you know she's damn good at that. Don't let her get in the way. Doc needs you. She wouldn't *want* this. She wouldn't *want* to abandon Sami and Belle....
The thought of Marlena and his daughters brings him to the center he is so desperately seeking and he manages to take a deep breath.
After a long moment his voice comes, low and hollow. "So what do you call yourself? If I'm stuck with you for the appreciable future, I may as well know what to call you."
Grace, more angered than ever by his refusal to bite, pulls herself upright, her pants groaning against the leather upholstery, and slides her gaze up to the rear-view mirror. She is met by the shadowed reflection of John's piercing azure eyes as he watches her. "That would make things a little easy, don't you think? Why should I give everything away at the first sign of a question?"
"I only asked your name," his tone is short. "Unless you *want* me to keep calling you Marlena."
"You wouldn't." She raises her eyebrows and then winces as they hit a bump in the road. "Damn! Can't you watch where you're going?" She lifts one hand to and gingerly feels the lump on the back of her head.
"Sorry Marlena," John says flippantly.
"Grace," she snarls in return, as she clasps her forehead. "Goddamn it, the name is Grace. Now would you fucking slow down before my head explodes."
"Sorry, can't do that." John feels almost relieved as he leans over and pulls open the glove box. He seems to have come through round one, if not a winner, then at least relatively intact. It's a start.
Inside the compartment are the painkillers he'd found earlier and he pulls them out and tosses them at her. " Here, take a couple, they should help. There's a bottle of water in the back of the seat."
"Oh, thanks *so* much." Her reply is less than gracious. However, she pulls the top off the bottle and empties several round tablets into her hand. Snapping the top back on the bottle she drops it and reaches for the water. With a quick slug of the clear liquid, she washes the pills down and then leans back against the seat and closes her eyes.
"So, where are we going, stud?"
"I guess we'll know when we get there," John answers evasively. After all, even if he had a good idea where they are headed, or even *any* idea, he's hardly going to want to give her a head start by sharing that knowledge. "Why don't you try and get some sleep in the meantime?"
"Oh and miss all the witty repartee?" she says cuttingly. "Not likely."
"D-" He feels a pang, a physical pain in his chest as he cuts himself off. She's not his Doc. This woman, this hard, cruel woman is nothing like Marlena.
"Grace." The name sounds foreign on his tongue. His mouth feels heavy and blurry and slack and he suddenly feels sick again. What if she's right? What if she's right and he can't get Marlena back? What if his carelessness and his weakness have destroyed her completely? How the hell would he live with that?
"Yes?" She grins, despite the pounding headache. She suspects she has finally unsettled him and it amuses her. If she's going to be stuck with him any amount of time, she's going to use every bit of leverage she can. She's going to make him wish he had never laid eyes on her. Or Marlena.
"We're not stopping any time soon," he says harshly. "So do us both a favor and get some rest."
"Hey stud, you were the one that dragged me on this little joyride," she rolls one shoulder and then the other, feeling a slight crackling in her joints. "You think I'm at all inclined to make things easy for you? I mean, I'd much rather be shopping in New York than stuck in the middle of nowhere with *you*." Her tone is scathing. "What on earth makes you think I'd want to do you *any* favors?"
"Well, we're even then," he says irritably, pressing tired fingers into the stiff muscles in the pack of his neck. "Because if you think I care that you would rather be shopping then you're even more delusional than I thought."
Grace winds herself up for a snappy retort, but the nausea hits her again and all she can do is close her eyes. God, she's not sure she can stand being stuck with him for any extended period of time. Any time at all is going to be pushing things.
She has to find a way out of this nightmare, and soon. She's damned if she's going to wait for Stefano to come and rescue her like some tired, hackneyed damsel in distress. No fucking way. She's going to find a way to get herself out of this, and she's going to do it quickly.
"So," she says in a deceptively gentle voice. "Not even the slightest clue where we're going?" She opens her eyes fractionally and notes that there is a slight glow in the sky ahead of them. The sweetly lulling glow of a city lighting the night. A beacon of civilization that beckons to her.
"Not even the slightest," John intones. "Go to sleep, Grace."
"And miss all those informative exit signs?" she chuckles, the sound buried deep in her throat. "I don't think so Mr. Black."
John sighs lightly and then shakes his head. She's starting to get on his nerves and he knows she's not going to make this easy for him. She's right, why should she? He's abducted her and he doesn't even have any idea where they're going, let alone what they're going to do when they get there.
Sometime in the middle of the night, he decided that going east was too obvious. Bo and Abe would know to look for him there. The fact that he knows portions of West Virginia can only count against him in this situation. And so, somewhere around Lexington, Kentucky, he'd swung a right and headed south on an interstate.
But he's fully aware that he's going to have to get off the main roads soon. The cell phone rang once before he turned it off and he knows Bo's suspicions are going to be full blown by now.
If Bo's reported back to Abe, then he's is screwed. There are going to be hundreds of cops on his ass and his only chance is to take back roads and hope he can stay out of their way. On his side is the fact that they are unlikely to know the vehicle he is travelling in quite yet. But the moment they find the Jeep and deduce that he has Stefano's car, it won't be long before they track down the registration.
And then of course as Grace so gleefully pointed out earlier, Stefano will be looking for them. And knowing DiMera as he does, the possibility that the old man will find them seems much more likely than the cops locating them at this point.
"Music?" John offers, turning on the radio. He needs to get his mind off the track it's currently on and maybe the radio will be a double blessing and shut her up too. "What do you like?"
"I don't," her tone is clipped. "It's an unnecessary distraction."
"I would have thought, being Stefano's lackey you would have developed an interest in opera," John observes, watching her in the rear view mirror. He sees her stiffen slightly in the semi-darkness and it confirms his thoughts.
"I am *not* Stefano's lackey," she spits out angrily. "Maybe that is what you were. And Gina. But I was *never* his lackey."
"So what are you then?" John raises one eyebrow lazily. "His concubine?"
Anger flares inside Grace until she realizes that is exactly his intention. He is trying to provoke her into revealing maybe more than she intends to at this particular time. A tiny smile flits across her face at the realization that he is playing her at her own game. She could almost admire that. If it didn't piss her off quite so much.
A throaty chuckle covers the irritation. "Why, does the thought of me sleeping with Stefano turn you on?"
Now it's John's turn to tense, his fingers tighten on the steering wheel and his knuckles bleach an almost white. His heart thuds slowly in his chest, the blood shuddering through the arteries in his throat, threatening to choke him. The familiar drone slides insidiously into his head and he has to close his eyes for a moment. Marlena. Focus on Doc and getting her back.
"*John!*"
He opens his eyes just as the eighteen-wheeler sounds it's horn and he yanks hard on the steering wheel, pulling the car back into it's own lane as the truck overtakes them.
"Christ, are you trying to get yourself killed?" she demands furiously. "If you are, don't take me along with you, okay?"
There is a thick and stifling silence between them that lengthens as John refuses to answer her. He doesn't trust himself to. He doesn't want to hear what else might come from her mouth. What other images she might conjure to torture him. And so he switches on the radio anyway, tuning it to a classical station which offers the soothing sounds of tinkling pianos.
After a while, Grace settles back in the seat and tries to make out the features of the landscape as they rush by. Only a few minutes pass before she sees the sign she's been waiting to see. The sign that tells her they're only thirty-eight miles north of Knoxville.
"Tennessee?" she murmurs disbelievingly. "We're in *Tennessee*?"
"Sorry if it doesn't quite meet your expectations," John shoots back, his voice loaded with sarcasm.
Grace shrugs, a pleased smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She's actually getting under his skin and it amuses her no end. The drugs are starting to kick in and she's ready for some fun. "I'm just wondering exactly what there is in Tennessee."
"Depends on if you intend to stop there or not," John replies in even, measured tones. There is a small pause and then he mutters a curse under his breath.
"What?" Her interest is aroused by the unexpected expletive.
"We're getting low on gas," he peers into the darkness.
"Oh." A smile lights up her face. "You mean, we have to stop?"
"Don't get any bright ideas," John growls in reply. The last thing he wants to do is deal with her trying to get away while there are people around, even if it is the middle of the night.
"Me?" Grace says innocently and then laughs. "Darling, I intend to be a little more inventive than that. Give me some credit at least."
"Don't *call* me that!" His fingers curl even more tightly around the steering wheel, his whole body tense and on edge as he tries to filter out the static that her words are creating inside his head.
"What?" she grins at the artlessness that sounds in her voice. Each extra little annoyance she can create is a reward in itself, but it is also adding up to her broader goal.
John shifts uncomfortably in the front seat, the leather creaking under him. He's tired and stiff and on edge. Every moment with her is hard. Trying to hold out against her mind games, trying not to despair of getting through to Marlena. Trying *not* to remember how he made love to her....
He is profoundly grateful when he spies an exit that sports an Exxon station. He quickly pulls off the interstate and makes the short loop around to the gas station.
There are a couple of trucks and one other car lined up in the predawn darkness. Their drivers are bathed in garish fluorescent light as they lazily pump their gas and stand around looking disinterestedly into the receding night.
"Just stay here and be quiet," John orders curtly as he opens the door and climbs out. His limbs protest slightly as he stretches, his muscles cramped from the overnight journey.
He turns to the pump, knowing he has to make this quick, and digs into his jacket. He pulls out a worn back wallet and not for one moment does he take his eyes off Grace as he flips open his wallet and slides out a credit card. It is only then that he turns and looks at the pump, sliding his card through the slot and punching in his pin as he listens intently for any sign of the car door behind him.
Inside the car, Grace surreptitiously slides across the back seat to the door that is furthest from John. But when she tries to open it, she finds that it's secured.
"Bastard!" she mutters under her breath as she realizes he must have stopped sometime during her period of unconsciousness and flipped the child locks on the back doors.
She looks back to where John is standing at the pump, looking at his credit card. She smirks as he pulls out another card and starts the process again. What an idiot.
But that's only a momentary diversion. She has to get out of here. This could be her best chance to get away from him. And if she does? She looks over at the truckers and shudders. They don't exactly look like the rescuing type. And besides, if she can just get to a place where she can hide out, she has enough of her own money in the pocket of her coat to make her way back to Salem. She doesn't need rescuing. By anybody.
Her glance slips to John again and he seems to still be engrossed in the problem of the credit cards. It's time to make her move. Ignoring her sore neck and head, knowing she's suffered much worse and still made it out in one piece, she quickly clambers through the gap between the front seats and throws open the front passenger door.
John hears the door and turns just in time to see her jump out of the front of the car and take off towards the road at a sprint.
"*Dammit!*" His yell is thick with fury as he skirts the back of the car and takes off in pursuit of her, his heels hitting the pavement possibly faster than they ever have in his life. He can't let her get away from him now. He can't lose her.
But she's faster than he expected, her adrenaline has kicked in whereas his was exhausted six hours back in Salem. He chases her down the road and slowly, almost miraculously, he gains on her. Grace, her breath laboured, can practically feel him on her heels as her boots hit the hard surface. With increasing urgency, she veers towards the grass verge. This is her only chance. She's so close. So fucking close...
Her heart pounds in her throat as she feels him right behind her and she feels a burst of fear in her gut. It's not a feeling she's used to and it spurs her onward. She can't give in, she can't lose this fight. She glances down at the road and knows that's where she has to go. She has no other choice.
So, taking the only chance she has, she throws herself down the steep slope that leads back down to the interstate.