The Exchange Variation

Chapter LXIV - Blackmar Gambit

It's almost dinner time when they speak again. He has trapped a rabbit and spent the afternoon silently preparing a stew for them to eat. Grace has been sitting in the sun alternately dozing and watching him work.

"How much do you remember of your past?" Grace asks suddenly as she watches him stir the stew.

"Very little before I met Doc," he says quietly. "But that's not a hardship. I don't need to know."

"Afraid of what you'll find out?" she raises an eyebrow.

"What I already know has destroyed my family," John replies tightly. "Why would I want to enlarge on that?"

"Suppose what you know isn't the whole truth?" Grace purses her lips and raises her right eyebrow. "You told me yourself that there was a 'chip' or something controlling you.' She sounds derisive when she mentions the chip and John wonders what she is up to. "How do you know what is fact and what is fiction?"

"I don't," he admits, shaking his head. "But Stefano is hardly likely to open up and lay it all out in front of me, is he?"

"No," she smiles warmly, "but I might."

It takes a moment to sink in and then John looks up sharply. "What do you mean, you might?"

Grace smiles. She has him, hook, line, and sinker. It's time to get this party started and it's obviously not going to happen in this dump in the woods in the middle of nowhere. She has the bait and the means to use it. And she knows John will bite. He always does.

"I mean," she pauses for dramatic effect, "I know where Stefano keeps all his documentation. Every file he has on you, everything to do with Father John, with Gina, with Roman Brady and John Black; I know where it all is."

"And why didn't you share this little tidbit of information before?" John demands, trying to keep his ire under control.

She shrugs delicately. "You never asked?"

"And why would you offer it to me now?" he doesn't trust her an inch. This has to be some kind of trap.

"Because I'm bored." It's true enough. "I want to get back to civilization. I want to get out of," her nose wrinkles in distaste as she motions to the cabin and surrounding woods. " And because I want to make a deal with you."

"What kind of deal?" He's wary and rightly enough.

"I'll take you to where it's all kept, and you'll let me go." She acts as though this is the most simple and natural request in the world. She knows it isn't.

"No fucking way!" he growls, his head beginning to ache again. "I don't care about my past. I care about my wife. I want my wife back, dammit! Nothing else matters to me. How many times do I have to say it?"

"And how long do we have to carry on this impasse?" Grace retorts, her impatience getting the better of her. "John, she's not coming back. Deal with it."

"I will never accept that!" he yells at her, his face red, his throat corded with rage. "NEVER!" He lashes out at the closest thing in his field of vision and his hand connects with the metal pot hanging over the fire. The pot clangs against the rocks and the stew spills all over the ground. John utters a curse and clutches his burnt hand.

"Oh, well done." Grace snarls.

"Shut up." John scowls at her murderously.

Grace says nothing but pushes herself up and marches to the cabin. She's been concealing the fact that her ankle is well healed, but she's finally had it. She's out of here, whether he intends it or not.