Grace tumbles over and over, grass in her face, rocks tearing at her clothes and flesh as she skims them. She reaches the bottom of the slope quickly, covered in grass and twigs but still in one piece.
Still, John is only feet behind her as she climbs to her feet and begins to run towards the interstate. There are trees on the other side and if she can only get across the road, she is sure she will be able to lose him in the undergrowth.
She doesn't make it that far.
John grabs her arm feet from the road and swings her back around to face him. They are both struggling for breath. Grace's hair has fallen out of her ponytail and she haphazardly brushes it away, smearing dirt across her cheek as she does so. She has a tear in the arm of her leather coat and grass stains on her white shirt. John's face is red and his clothes haven't fared much better. There is a large rip in the knee of his jeans and he already has a discoloured swelling rising on his forehead where he hit a rock on the way down.
"What the *hell* do you think you're doing?" His demand is beset with rage and Grace blanches slightly. She recovers immediately though and starts on her own offensive.
"What does it look I'm doing you fucking moron?!" She wrenches her arm free. "You *really* think I want to be stuck in a car with you, roaming through redneck, hillbilly country?"
"No, obviously you'd rather be trying to get *killed* on the interstate or in the woods." John's disgust is evident in every word.
"Maybe it's preferable to spending time with you, you arrogant *jerk*!" She narrows her eyes. "And besides, I can look after myself. I know it's probably hard to believe since your precious Marlena was so incapable of doing anything to help herself-"
"Don't you *dare* talk about her like that," John grips her again, his fingers digging into the hard muscles of her upper arm.
He is so close to losing control and he feels like he's fighting a losing battle. Just looking into Marlena's face to find a stranger staring back at him makes him feel as though he's being torn in two.
His head pounds, the weird buzzing sound growing and reverberating inside his skull. Like a circular saw slicing through his consciousness, drenching his world in violent shades of red. Right before it splits his life open and scoops out his soul and crushes it into countless tortured shards.
"I'm warning you right now," he breathes heavily. "Don't try this again."
"Or *what*?" she scoffs at his advice. "What will you do John?
She isn't prepared for the rapid movement of his hand as it wraps in her hair. He pulls her head back suddenly and brutally and leans forward, his breath hot on her cheek as his lips hover by her left ear.
"Grace," the name is bitter on his lips, "you don't want to try me."
Grace is shaken as he releases her and she stares at him for a long moment.
"You wouldn't *dare* hurt me," she challenges, in a low, dangerous tone.
"I'm not going to argue with you." He grabs her wrist and roughly yanks her in the direction of the gas station. "You'd better learn to live by my rules. Fast."
"Jesus!" She stumbles as he half drags her up the hill. "Take it easy, will you?"
John doesn't answer, simply leans over and grasps hold of his wallet, which he had dropped halfway down the embankment.
She takes that opportunity to wrench herself free from his grip and she scrambles back down the slope. John lets out a grunt of pure rage and throws himself at her, knocking her to the ground. Grace yelps and tries to struggle from under his bulk, but he grabs hold of her jacket and pulls her back so that she is lying beneath him.
"I *said*, don't mess with me, lady." His lips are thin and pale and his eyes are wild. They are enough to make Grace shiver.
"Okay, okay." Her voice is hoarse as she stares up at him. There's something about his expression that is sending off warning signals and she's not prepared to risk upsetting him any further. Not right now.
He doesn't say anything more, just climbs to his feet and pulls her up too. His shoulders are tight as he climbs up the slope, pulling her behind him.
As they reach the station, several of the patrons look at him suspiciously as he pulls open the back door and forces Grace to duck inside.
"I was hoping I wouldn't have to do this," he tells her, his voice strangely cold and dead. "But you haven't left me any choice." He leans over her and opens the centre console.
Grace hears the clank of metal brushing against metal and frowns as he pulls out the handcuffs he brought with him from the penthouse. "Oh, you can't be serious."
"Never more so." He snaps one unforgiving loop around her wrist and then tugs her arm toward him so he can fasten the other cuff to the door handle. "Now stay there and shut the hell up while I get the gas." He doesn't wait for her answer, just slams the door and locks the car. With a scowl on his face, he stalks off to pay for the petrol.
~
Bo sits listlessly at his desk while Abe barks orders at the phone receiver. He can't believe he was so stupid. That he didn't see what was so obvious. And now John's gone and gotten himself in a world of trouble.
Yeah,* sure* I can trust you. Thanks for nothing, bro.
"Bo?" he looks up to find Abe standing in front of him. "We're going to find them, you know that, right?"
"Yeah, right." Bo nods. It doesn't make him feel any better. "And when you do, you arrest Marlena, or whoever she is, for Roman's murder."
"Not if the D.A.'s office has anything to do with it," Abe looks grim. "All of a sudden they've done a one-eighty. They are convinced Marlena is not connected and they want us to stay away from her."
"There's only one reason that would happen," Bo frowns
"Right." Abe nods as he sits on the desk. "And we both know it starts with Stefano DiMera."
"Which pretty much points to the fact that she did it and he's trying to cover it up," Bo adds miserably.
"And we can't touch her." Abe adds. "Whoever she is."
"He was my *brother* Abe." Bo's eyes crease at the corners, his voice cracking slightly.
"He was my friend, Bo," Abe's rich, raw voice conveys his own anguish. "I know. But without the hairs, I'm not even sure we have a case. And DiMera will make this impossible for us to pursue."
"John will make it impossible." Bo rubs his forehead tiredly. "*Dammit*. I wish I knew how I should feel right now. Because I just feel damn confused and angry. And I'm not sure who I'm angry *at*." He looks up at Abe, his brown eyes pleading. His phone starts ringing but he ignores it. "Why would she kill him, Abe? Who is she that she would kill *Roman*? He would have given his life for Marlena."
"I don't know, Bo," Abe shakes his head as he picks up the phone. "I don't know." He switches his attention to the phone. "Carver." There is a pause as he takes in the news and then he nods. "Thanks, I'll tell him. And we'll be right there."
"They found them?" Bo asks, but his voice is devoid of optimism. Either way, this will not end well.
"No," Abe breaks out into a grin and his eyes come to life. "It's great news. Hope's regained consciousness."
~
Inside the Exxon, John throws a twenty-dollar bill at the attendant. The young guy looks slightly embarrassed as he processes the money and John is about to leave when a voice sounds behind him.
"Hey dude. What's with giving the lady such a hard time?"
He turns to find himself face to face with a trucker. The man is bigger than John and there is a life's worth of experience written on his craggy face.
"It's none of your damn business," John mutters angrily.
"If you're mistreatin' a lady, I'm gonna make it my business." The other man takes a step towards John, his manner menacing.
"Look, she's my wife. We had a fight. It's no big deal." John says impatiently. "We've been driving all night and we're both tired and frustrated. It's nothing, honestly. Look," he points to the bruise on his temple, "I'm more banged up than she is."
The trucker looks at the attendant, who shrugs faintly, and then looks back at John.
"I'll be keeping an eye out for you." His warning is blatant.
"Yeah. Thanks." John gives him a cursory nod and then heads for the door. The last thing he needs is to aggravate anyone any more than he already has. The thought of truckers up and down the country watching out for him isn't exactly comforting.
At the car, he quickly sets about filling the tank, keeping an eye alternately on Grace, who is staring out of the window, and on the trucker who is staring straight back at him.
When he is finished, he unlocks the car and slides into the drivers seat, throwing his wallet on the seat next to him. He starts up the car and pulls out of the gas station, his expression set in a grimace.
~
At the hospital, Bo finally sees a sight that fills his heart as he clasps Hope's warm hand and looks into her eyes.
"Hey Fancy-Face," he croaks. "I was afraid I was never going to see that beautiful smile again."
"Hey Brady," her voice is little more than a whisper. "I'm a hard one to keep down."
"You sure got that right," Bo can't help the chuckle that slips out, or the tear that slides from his right eye. "You scared me Hope. Don't do that again, okay?"
"Okay." Hope nods slowly, a smile curving her lips. "You got a deal."
A noise from the doorway catches her attention and she looks past Bo to where Abe stands. "Bo, there's something I need to tell you." Her voice is quiet and her eyes flicker in Abe's direction. "It's about Marlena."
"It's okay Fancy-Face," Bo's gaze never wavers. "Abe knows. We both do."
"You know that she's not Marlena?" Hope's expression is full of worry.
"Yeah, we're pretty sure she's not." Bo nods. "She was responsible for this?" He indicates the hospital bed.
"It wasn't Marlena's fault." Hope clarifies. "Whoever it was, whoever *she* is, she's not Marlena. She admitted that to me, that's why she did this. She didn't want me talking."
"I'm sure she didn't." Bo's heart sinks.
"Bo, we have to help her," Hope tightens her hand around his, her eyes imploring. "We have to help bring Marlena back."
"I'm afraid," Abe says from the doorway, "if she had something to do with Roman's death, we might not be able to help her."
~
There is another long period of silence as they head towards the city. Towards the east, Grace can see the faint glow that heralds the new day. And then buildings and lights of the city obliterate it.
Somewhere south of the main city area, John mutters something under his breath and then takes an exit off the interstate.
"What?" Grace asks wearily. She's tired. The headache, the tussle at the gas station and having to travel with the interminably boring John Black is taking it's toll.
"Nothing." The single word is curt and loaded with annoyance.
"Well obviously it's *something* since suddenly we're headed for a back road and you're all pissed off," Grace answers snappishly. "Oh but I forget, you've hardly been Mr. Convivial now, have you."
"Do you have *any* idea how annoying you are?" John deliberately uncurls flexes his fingers from the steering wheel and flexes them.
"Me? Annoying?" Grace laughs. "Gosh, really?"
There is silence from the front and she sighs. "So really. What's the big problem?"
"Who said there's a problem?" John takes another exit, the sign indicating the road will take him through a town called Maryville. It looks quiet enough, away from the trucks and the cops. With any kind of luck.
"You think just because I'm not Marlena that I can't read you like a book?" she asks. She's damned if she'll let him brush her off like that. She's curious now and she wants to know what's going on. Not least because if John's upset, that means it could well benefit her.
"You don't seem to have done too well so far," he points out.
"But I'm right this time," she raises her eyebrows.
There's a pause and then John sighs. "The gas station wouldn't accept my credit cards. They've been stopped. Bo must have told Abe that I have you and he's had them cut off." He looks at her in the rear-view mirror. "They were about to arrest you for Roman's murder, you know. And they were probably about to arrest me for interfering in a criminal investigation. So, as of right now, we're on the run from the law, as well as from Stefano."
For John's part, he's tired too. He just wants to stop and sleep. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he wishes that he could and when he wakes up, he'd find himself in bed with the wife he loves and this would all be a hideous nightmare.
His mind has drifted and he's not prepared for the laughter that erupts from the back seat. It only serves to increase his irritation. The woman won't take anything seriously. "Mind telling me what the hell is so funny?"
"Oh," Grace manages to rein in the giggles, but only just. It's so incredibly perfect. She had secretly wanted to be there at the moment he learnt of the ultimate form of her revenge. It almost makes this joyride worth it. "Oh, you don't have to worry about the murder charge, John. Stefano's taken care of that."
"Stefano...?" John's brow furrows.
"It's not the cops who've cut off your credit." She adds, not giving him time to process the implications of what she's just said.
"What do you mean it's not the cops?" he seems genuinely confused. "What are you talking about?"
"I mean, honey, the *bank* cut your credit because you have no funds," she eases herself back against the leather with a self-satisfied grin.
"What do you mean I have no funds?" The words are tentative at first as though they are foreign on his tongue. As though he doesn't understand their meaning. And then he repeats himself, the words heavy with anger and confusion. "What do you mean I have no funds? I'm a fucking millionaire. Of course I have *funds*."
"Not any more," she shrugs, her lips twitching at the corners. She's enjoying the fact that she has one up on him. Especially because he knows as well as she does that they're not going to get anywhere without any cash. "I've been in Salem a good couple of months John. I've had your credit card and access to your bank accounts. You really think I'm not going to use it to my advantage?" She smirks as she sees his eyes widen in the mirror. "I've been siphoning your money into Stefano's various Swiss bank accounts ever since I arrived. I made the final transfer the other night." The nonchalance in her voice leaves John speechless. "My guess is that if you'd checked your messages at the hotel, you'd find there were a few from the bank. "
She shrugs again not quite able to keep the smile from forming. "You have *no* money, John. You're broke." Her mouth curves into a lazy smirk. "I like my revenge best serve with a liberal sprinking of cold, hard greenbacks."
John can't even speak, he's too stunned to even look at her. In the back seat, Grace rattles the handcuff that keeps her fastened to the car door and props one slender leg on the centre console of the car. As she leans forward, her voice drops to a whisper.
"Payback's a *bitch*, hmmmm?"