Grace is jolted from her dozing state as the car rolls to a stop and a small frown pinches her brow as she looks around, slightly disoriented.
They are in a steep valley. The hills on either side are carpeted thickly with trees and foam tipped water tumbles over rocks on her right. Looking skyward, it appears that the weather has closed in since she's been sleeping and the clouds above them are dark and ominous.
A muffled curse comes from the front as John slams his hand against the dash.
"What now?" she asks irritably.
There's no answer, but the car lurches forward slightly. She frowns again as they swing into a small graveled road. John edges the car to the side of the road and with a final splutter of the engine, he nudges it into a ditch behind some dense undergrowth.
Grace is thrown forward as the SUV crashes into the hole and her arm is wrenched heavily where she's still manacled to the car. She groans and clutches at her shoulder as she glares accusingly at John.
"Thanks so much for the warning, asshole."
John remains silent, his lips tightly pursed as he pushes the door open. A stifling burst of hot, humid air greets him as he climbs out of the vehicle and plants his feet firmly on the ground. The atmosphere around him vibrates with moisture and electricity. There's a storm brewing and they'd best find shelter before it hits.
Moving around the rear of the skewed Mercedes, he stares at Grace through the tinted window. Part of him would just like to leave her there. He wishes... there's so much he wishes, but right now it's wasted energy. He needs to get her out of here before the storm hits. And before things get any more difficult.
"Care to tell me what the *hell* you think you're doing?" Grace demands furiously as he pulls the door ajar. "Have you gone completely nuts??"
"There was a light on the dash," John says cursorily, not looking at her but instead unlocking the cuff that is attached to the car. "Something went wrong with the car and we lost power. So we're stuck here."
"It's the middle of fucking *nowhere*," Grace's voice raises several decibels.
"Exactly," John deadpans. "This is as good a place as any."
He pulls her roughly from the car and snaps the handcuff around his own wrist. He's not about to take any chances.
"Oh my God," Grace breathes, "you really have lost the plot, haven't you?"
"Think whatever you like," John takes her by the hand and looks into the undergrowth. There's a small trail that leads off to their right. It seems like a good place to start. "Crazy or not, you're coming with me. So you may as well shut up and get used to the idea."
"It's forest, John. We have no idea what's up there. There could be bears, snakes... moonshiners... anything. It's not safe." She's starting to sound desperate and it elicits a grim smile from John.
"You spent a good deal of time earlier today telling me how you know every move that I know." He folds her arm back behind her and gives her a push towards the overgrown path. "It's time to put your money where your mouth is, *Grace*. If you're a DiMera operative, you've been trained in jungle warfare along with the rest of it. This is a walk in the park."
She stumbles slightly and a branch whips past her arm as she moves along the trail. She's silent for a moment and then, "you're an absolute *bastard*," she hisses. John says nothing and she stops short in the middle of the trail. "What about my case?" she asks.
"What about it?" John sounds disinterested.
"It has all my *stuff* in it," she says angrily. "You expect me to wear these clothes for the next..." she twists to look at him. "Exactly how long do you intend to spend tramping around in the woods?"
"As long as it takes to work out how to get my wife back," John tells her curtly. "And unless you want to carry your case around, it's staying in the car." He pauses for a moment and then, seemingly contrarily, he turns, pulling on her hand.
"I thought you said we weren't taking it?" Grace is confused.
"I'm not," John reiterates as he pulls open the trunk of the vehicle and pulls Grace's case to him. There is a combination padlock on it and he turns to look at Grace. She shrugs indifferently but she doesn't get the reaction she expects. Instead, John just shrugs in return and digs in his pocket. After a moment, he pulls out a pocket knife and flicks it open.
"Are you cr-" Grace's diatribe is cut short as John stabs the fabric of the case with the blade of the knife and begins to carve a hole. "John!" She stares in disbelief as he finishes tearing the hole with his hand and then starts pulling out shredded silk blouses. It only takes him seconds to empty the case and then taking his knife, he slits the lining in the bottom of the bag. Quickly he slides his hand inside and pulls out a wad of papers. Included are two passports, one is Marlena's and one is in the name of Grace Boudreaux. He says nothing, just stuffs the papers inside his shirt and turns back to the woods.
Grace sighs as he yanks on her arm and she grabs a pair of pants and an unmarked shirt, along with a small make-up bag which she stuffs in her pocket, and then follows him.
They have been trekking uphill for what seems like hours, when a flash of lightening stops Grace in her tracks. John, now behind her, runs into her as the thunder sounds overhead. Grace jumps and John utters a soft curse as the rain begins to fall. Huge drops batter the canopy overhead as the day grows darker and increasingly oppressive.
"We have to keep moving," John pushes Grace onward.
"It would help if I knew *where* we were going," Grace whips around and faces up to John, her eyes blazing. "You're going to get us killed out here, you *ass.*" How exactly is that going to help your precious Marlena?"
"Grace, if you don't shut your mouth, so help me I'll..."
"Yeah?" She challenges him, her lips pursed and her honey eyes glittering in the half light. "What're you going to do John? How do you propose-" She's interrupted as he grabs her and kisses her roughly. She gasps and tries to ignore the pounding of her heart and the fluttering of her stomach.
When John pushes away from her, his eyes contain a challenge. "Any questions?" he demands. Grace merely shakes her head, unable to trust herself enough to control any words that might come out of her mouth. "Good." John's voice is raw and gravely, but she searches his eyes and can find no evidence of any affect the kiss has had on him.
She realizes that he is the only man beside Stefano who has ever stood up to her. Who has ever had any kind of power over her. It both intrigues and infuriates her and it strengthens her resolve to beat him. She will win this battle of wills. She will break him. She has to.
With a tiny smile curling her lips, she turns and starts up the hill again.
John's crumpled maroon shirt is soaked with rain and it's plastered to him by the time he pulls Grace to a halt, almost an hour later. She can't help but glance at the curve of his muscles under the drenched fabric and her breath catches in her throat. Whatever she might think of him, he is quite beautiful.
"There" he rasps breathlessly as he points through the trees. Grace turns almost reluctantly and sees a ramshackle cabin in the distance. With determination, she shrugs. It's better than nothing and if they're really lucky, it might even be dry. She starts in the direction of the cabin but John pulls her back. "What? No arguments?" He raises one eyebrow. "It's hardly the Ritz."
"I don't need luxury," she smirks unexpectedly. "Right now, I have other needs I have to satisfy."
"What is that supposed to mean?" John is getting weary of this dance they are performing. He doesn't know what to expect from her one moment to the next and it is taking its toll. And there's not just that. He shouldn't have kissed her. He hadn't been able to resist the temptation. At that moment she looked so beautiful and reminded him so much of the feisty, no-nonsense Marlena he had fallen in love with all those years ago, and he had acted on instinct. But the feeling of her lips against his had been enough to stir up all the pain and anger again and even worse, his desire for her, and he is having a hard time keeping all those emotions in check. On top of all that, the way her white blouse is clinging to her in the rain is enough to completely shatter his concentration and that's the last thing he needs.
"You'll find out soon enough," Grace slides her hand into his and curls her fingers around his broad ones. She flicks the slippery hair out of her face and the combined sensations squeeze at John's heart like it is in a vice. "C'mon stud, let's see if this place is habitable."
John barely has to force the door of the deserted cabin and it swings inward, hanging awkwardly off rickety hinges. Keeping Grace safely behind him, he slips the pistol from his waistband and scans the interior of the dilapidated building.
It has obviously not been occupied for quite a number of years, the thick layer of dust over all the surfaces attests to that. However, in the corner, a mess of leaves lines the bottom of an open cupboard, evidence of a one time raccoon occupation. Other signs of rodent infestation are sparse, but still evident.
Holstering his gun, John ventures in, pulling Grace with him. She looks around, and her nose wrinkles slightly. Then she takes a deep breath and her shoulders set. "It could be worse, I guess," she ventures.
John doesn't look at her. He can't bring himself to, but he pulls her over towards the old cast iron bed. His heart pounding and his breath heavy, he fishes for keys in his pocket and unlocks the cuff around his wrist. He's just about to fasten it to the bed when Grace lays her hand on his.
"You don't need to do that," she says softly. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Oh, you expect me to believe that?" John tries to keep his eyes averted but she shifts slightly and he can't help but see the rain slick skin that disappears beneath her translucent blouse.
"Yes, I expect you to believe that," her chest rises and falls swiftly as she catches her breath from the long hike. She shrugs, "where would I go? It's not exactly the safest place to go roaming around on one's own. Even if I had the slightest idea where I was I don't think I'd be that foolhardy."
John lifts his eyes and studies her face. He doesn't see any deception in those honey brown eyes, but then, he mentally berates himself, they're no longer Marlena's eyes. He can't read them like he used to be able to. He can't trust her. He can never let himself be lulled into that kind of false sense of security.
"I'm sorry," he mutters as he closes the manacle around the ancient bedstead. "I have to be sure."
"Sure of what?" she asks, a bitter tinge to her voice. "That I'll starve to death with you? Or that I'll get pneumonia before you do?"
"No-one's...." John interrupts himself with a snort of disgust. "I'm going out to find some wood."
"Well, I'll be here when you get back honey," Grace calls after him caustically. "I'm not going anywhere."
She makes a noise that signals her own irritation as sounds of his retreat fade. Turning, she looks down distastefully at the old bed as she throws her drenched set of spare clothing over the bedstead. Leaning over, she tests the bed with one hand. It squeaks slightly and she grimaces at the feel of the lumpy mattress beneath her hand. She peels back the dusty old blanket and sheets with evident distaste but she's gratified to find the mattress shows no recent signs of rodent infestation.
"Thank heaven for small mercies" she murmurs as she pulls the small zippered bag from her pocket and eases herself down into a sitting position. "Right now, let's see what we've got here." The corner of her mouth curls into a pleased smile as she pulls out a bobby pin and sets to work on the manacle around her wrist.
It only takes a minute before she is rewarded by a tiny click and the metal bracelet swings open. She grins as she stands, rubbing her wrist. "Okay stud, let's see who's in control now..."