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Ch 423 - Another Confrontation

She could not stand another moment more, staring at the four walls of this room. Jennifer knew she had to get out of her room for a spell, and although she did not relish the idea that she might run into Lawrence, she knew she needed to get out and do something. Anything. Quietly she opened the door of her room and peered out, but the hallway was empty and there was no sign of anyone about. Slipping out and shutting the door behind her, she moved off, her mind quickly formulating a plan.

Jack was gone. She was reasonably certain of it, and although her mind kept telling her heart that it was over between them, she could not fully ignore the beating of her heart when she thought of him. She could never hope to escape her life here and what it now was, but she could choose to believe that he had escaped it. And something residual inside her could not put to rest the other thought that had alternately plagued her. Frankie. He was here, somewhere. Trapped inside his own nightmare. And how and why that was, she still did not know. But Jennifer was prepared to somehow take responsibility for that, as well. It was bad enough that she had gotten Jack sucked up into all this. But at least Jack had chosen that course for himself. Frankie was quite another story. And she could not imagine a single connection between Frankie Brady and Lawrence Alamain that did not somehow link through her. It absolutely horrified and sickened her to imagine that any individual she had cared for might have been captured by that monster. Captured, imprisoned, and used against her. What had she done?

Again, she could not dwell on such thoughts, for they were counterproductive and useless. Instead, she chose to take matters into her own hands and find out more. Her reporter instinct, along with her personal feelings and emotions, could be quite powerful. Jennifer surreptitiously moved through the hall, making her way back to the one place that might hold answers for her.

She found herself at the door, and unthinking, she opened it, entering the room cautiously and closing the door behind her. The room was empty, and her eyes scanned about, looking for a clue she believed must be there. Her fingers went to work, running over the pictures on the wall and anything else that might grant her passageway. She was sure it must be in here someplace. Taking a few steps, she tried the edges of the table, looking for something she did not know. More steps and to a twin table, again coming up empty.

Unthinking, she moved on, checking more areas, behind a closed door, under a small, round table, as she desperately continued her search for the way out. And then, turning about, she was suddenly confronted with the one thing she had pushed aside in her eagerness to explore and discover the truth. A bed. But not any bed. His bed. And sight of it halted her, halting as well her breathing. Jennifer froze, her eyes staring, her heart beating. Like a replay of a movie scene, it all flooded back to her now, and she felt as if it was happening again. Lawrence's accusations. Her gasps, pleading for him to stop. His voice, angry and heated. His fingers upon her arm, digging into her soft flesh and bruising her. His questions, demanding answers she could not give. Those hands, ripping the tiara from her hair and pulling. And always, through it all, the sounds of her tears, her screams, her begging for release.

Jennifer put her hands to her mouth to keep back the screams that threatened to mingle with her memory, breathing in and out, trying to remain calm. It wasn't happening again. She was alone here now. But she wasn't, either. There was a presence behind her, and it frightened her mightily when she realized it. "Good morning, Katerina," the voice said, and she gasped and whirled about to face him.

Lawrence stood before her, fully suited and attired for the day, and she felt her heart drop. "What a pleasure to find you here," he said, evenly. "I can't tell you how much it warms me to see your growing acceptance of your role as my wife."

Trying to control her voice, trying to speak without air, she faced him. "Well, seeing as I am mistress of this house," she said, a bit boldly, "I want access to all of it." She was placing a demand, and the corners of his mouth lifted in a smile, recognizing it as such.

"You're welcome in my room anytime you like," he said, softly and with hypnotic appeal. She hated him afresh for the way in which he said it. For the suggestion underneath those words.

She paused, steadying her voice. "What about the guest rooms?"

His eyes didn't even register a start, but his voice sounded surprised. "Ahhh, now I understand," he said, knowingly. "You weren't looking for me, you were looking for the elevator."

"I want to go downstairs," she said, quickly, neither confirming nor denying it.

"You mean to see your friend, Frankie," he put in, sounding so superior.

"Yes," she responded, breathlessly. "Take me there." Again, it was a demand, but he was growing quickly tired of it.

"Well, I can understand why you want to see him," Lawrence said, easily. "So, I'll make you a deal," he offered, genteelly.

Her answer came swiftly. "I don't want to make a deal with you," she proclaimed. "I want to see Frankie."

"You may change your mind when you hear what I have to say," Lawrence responded, in a deceptively pleasant voice. He turned to face her, sharing some news. "Some guests arrived last night," he explained, looking for a reaction, she was sure. Jennifer appeared indifferent. What did it matter to her who he was entertaining now? This was his world, not hers. "Just in time for Father's birthday," he added, with an almost genuine smile. "They'll be staying the week with us, until the party," he said, his smile growing a bit, "and I'd like you to meet them."

She wondered if it somehow meant something more, and she asked, quietly, "Who are they?" But she might have expected more intrigue.

"You'll see," was all he would say, and she hated him further for it. Coming closer to her, he raised both hands, placing them on the large, fringed shawl she was wearing, in a gesture she could only imagine was meant to be somehow condescending. "I think that you'll like them," he promised, and she gazed upward at him, standing so near.

"All right," she volunteered. "I'll meet your friends, as soon as I'm done seeing Frankie." It would be on her terms, she wanted to believe.

Smiling, he moved aside. "I'm afraid that you have it the other way around," he explained. "AND," he added, "only if you behave yourself."

Now she approached him, pushing away all fear to confront him. "Meaning, don't say anything about Frankie," she said, meeting his gaze. She hesitated only a moment, and then she spoke. "All right," she agreed, her eyes unwavering now. "Well, I don't think either of us have anything to worry about," she suggested. She moved past him and strode with determination to the door. "Come," she offered, standing by the open door. "Introduce me to your guests." There was no time like the present, after all.

* * * * * * *

Outside in the garden, Jack stood riveted, watching Leopold Alamain and his simmering anger. "I think you've got this all wrong," he said, placating the older man. "I would never hurt Katerina. I'd never do that." And his voice rang sincere.

"He's telling the truth," Julie put in, quickly. But Leopold wanted to know the reason for the charade, and Jack had to think quickly, something he was rather accustomed to by now. And when he said that he had already explained it to his son, Leopold pounced on that vital information.

"Lawrence knows of this?" Leopold looked confused.

"Of course he knows about it," Jack said, quietly. "You see, I'm a reporter, and sometimes I have to take on other...other..." He hunted for what he wanted to say, without giving away too much either. "...other accents just to get a good story. And I'm assuring you, I would never do anything to hurt anyone. Especially Katerina."

Leopold was staring him down, seeming on the one had to be firm, but something in his eyes seemed almost torn. "My instincts tell me otherwise, and I'm a man who lives by instincts," he proclaimed. "They've never led me astray."

He turned, and Jack knew he had to appeal further to the man. He'd done it before, and with a modicum of success. He ran around and in front of the elder Mr. Alamain, stopping him with his outstretched hands. "Wait a minute, how about this? You've seen the two of us together, correct?" Leopold admitted he had. "Has she ever looked unhappy?" Jack questioned.

Leopold gave a slight and embarrassed sort of laugh. "Well, no," he confessed. "On the contrary, she always seems quite happy to be in your presence."

"See?" Jack pressed, hoping the man was now beginning to understand.

"Which is my concern," the gentleman went on, with an edge to his voice. "Although you've assured me to the contrary that your feelings for her are nothing more than mere friendship, it's quite obvious that they are not. And it's also obvious that you refuse to relinquish these feelings." Jack felt as if he were being chastised, yet again, and he dropped his head, looking upward and from his eyes in a mixture of submission and resentment. "She is married to my son!" Leopold reminded him, strongly. "I forbid you to harm either one of them!" And then, as Jack watched, Leopold said, "Which is why I am about to ask you to be forcibly removed from the premises. Guard??"

He had nothing more in his arsenal of tricks, and Jack signaled to Julie, seeking help. Her eyes met his, wild and almost crazed, and she sprang into action. Jack just hoped whatever she pulled out might buy him time. More time.

Ch 425 - An Introduction

Jennifer stood before the assembly of those gathered, her heart pounding and her throat suddenly dry. She did not have the luxury of time to even begin to imagine what any of them were doing there, but that did not matter. Far sooner than she might have expected, she was faced with the nearly impossible task of convincing these people that she was Katerina von Leuschner Alamain. The only difficulty was, they all knew her. Shane and Kayla. Julie. Julie! Julie had known her since her birth! And Jack. Jennifer felt her insides spin crazily out of control. Jack. The person who knew her better than anyone in the world had ever known her before.

She was torn between massive regret that he had not escaped from this place, as she had prayed he might have and feeling the most glorious hope at seeing him again. He was standing before her now, and she wanted nothing more than to drink in sight of him. But she could not. She had to maintain the facade of what this was all about. "Hello," she said, quietly, struggling to steady her voice. "It's nice to meet all of you."

"Allow me to introduce you," Lawrence said, from her side, and he reached for her hand. She gave it to him, and he led her down the last of the stairs and toward the small party before her. "This," he said, gesturing, "is Julie Williams."

"Charmed," Julie murmured, as Jennifer met her eyes briefly. "And her friends," Lawrence went on speaking. "Shane Donovan and Kayla Johnson." To each she gave a momentary acknowledgement, her eyes skittering back and forth. Lawrence paused, only a moment, and then continued, gloating. "And I believe you're already acquainted with this gentleman. Of course you know Jack Deveraux."

Jack was standing, bouncing a bit nervously on his heels, his arms still crossed as he faced her squarely, his expression inscrutable. Jennifer felt the constriction of her throat and she could not respond, but Jack made words, instead. "Oh yes, yes," he said, confidently. "A pleasure to see you again." And this time he even forced a smile.

What could she say, Jennifer wondered, her heart filled with trepidation, but it mattered not. Lawrence spoke next, and his words were repugnant. "I'm a very lucky man to have such a beautiful and charming wife." And he ran his hands along her shoulder lightly, demonstrating it for them all to see.

Jack felt sick as his insides knotted, watching this display, but he did not alter his expression or stance. Fortunately, Shane stepped forward from behind, saying, "Yes, you certainly are, Lawrence."

Quickly, Lawrence was the congenial host again. "Are you enjoying your stay?" he wanted to know, and Shane thanked him and said that they were. But Jack was barely aware, as he stood like a statue, staring at her.

"Good, good," Lawrence was saying. "I think once you all get to know Katerina, you will be as charmed by her as I am. She may be shy at first, but eventually she'll open up to you, just like she did to me," he explained, adding, "Isn't that right, my darling?"

Jennifer felt, to her horror, her eyes pooling with unshed tears. She was not going to let this man get to her, she told herself sternly. She could not fall apart. Not here, and not now. She had to be strong, no matter what would follow. It was obvious to Jack, watching without a word, that she was intensely uncomfortable. And although it was also rather obvious why that was, he could not help but believe there was something more. Jennifer was a strong and feisty young woman, and he could think of no reason why she would blatantly stand before them all and continue with this charade. Hadn't she told him that Lawrence knew the truth of her identity? And now there were others here assembled who also knew the truth. Why wasn't she using this opportunity to end it, once and for all? He was baffled by her behavior.

To his credit, Shane broke the uncomfortable moment, speaking to Lawrence and diverting his attention. "Ahh, Lawrence," he addressed their host. "You have a fascinating collection of weaponry around here. You must be quite a collector."

"Well," said Lawrence, brightly and with oozing pride in his accomplishments. "I have others, if you'd like to see them." Shane said that he certainly would, and Lawrence told him to follow along. The last thing Jack heard him saying was something about the sword Excalibur from the film of the same name. But more important than the words being shared was the fact that Shane had effectively driven their host from the room. That left Jennifer alone with the rest of them, and Jack began to breathe again. Now they could finally get down to business.

Once again, it was Julie who initiated the questioning, getting directly to the point of it all. "Jennifer," she said, her voice incredulous. "Why are you doing this? Why are you going along with this, pretending to be Katerina?"

Jack felt momentary relief. There now, that was better. Jennifer would answer to Julie, even if she had continued to put him off. She was not likely to push aside the others in the same way. Finally there would be answers. But his hopes quickly died as she found words.

Jennifer, in a strained voice, responded quickly and breathlessly. "Trust me. I have my reasons, okay?"

Frustrated once again, he jumped in. "I really don't think they're important anymore, Jennifer," he said, firmly, as if she were his child. "We're going to get you out of this now, so don't worry about a thing." If his words were meant to comfort and reassure her, he was surprised again at her reaction to them.

"Please," she said, her voice tight and frantic. "I'll be all right. Just go home. Don't worry about me anymore."

How could she hope to make them believe that, she asked herself, her heart sinking and her mind filling with fear. It was one thing to combat Jack, but how could she push away all the others, as well? There had to be a way. She had to be convincing. Because if Lawrence understood the truth, there would be a price to pay, and she could not live with that. She could not live with anyone else being hurt.

Perhaps her words were not enough. Perhaps she needed action to back them, and she turned to move away. But not quickly enough. Jack was moving after her, telling her to wait a minute, and she wearily told him to leave her alone. He put a hand on her arm to stop her, and she said, "Let go of me."

Facing her, he stared at her, his hands outstretched in a gesture of pleading. "Jennifer. Tell me what's going on," he said, softly.

"You can see for yourself what's going on," she told him. "I'm married to Lawrence, and I love him, and I'm going to make this marriage work out. Now..." Apparently there was more to be said, but Jack would not allow it, breaking in before she could say anything else.

"Jennifer!" he blurted out, beyond frustrated now. "There is nothing to worry about anymore, all right? You wanted the big guns-they're here. Shane Donovan of the ISA is going to handle everything, all right?"

"Jack," she hissed, pleadingly. "Tell him not to! All right? He's going to make everything worse."

"Things can't get any worse," Jack said, strongly, and it was true. They had reached the worst possible place, and he knew there was only one way out now. Out.

"Yes they can," she countered, stubbornly. "You don't understand. You have no idea."

But he had plenty of idea. She was the one who hadn't a clue what was really going on. Jack didn't know if she was still playing this game, if she still wanted a story from this, or what else might be motivating her actions now, but he knew the truth and she did not. So he told her. "I understand perfectly," he chimed in. "We think Lawrence killed Steve."

She blanched at those words, only able to utter a word. "What?" It hissed through the room on her whisper.

"We believe Lawrence is behind Steve's death, all right?" he conveyed to her, seeing the beginning of realization in her eyes. "I'm not going to let you stay here any longer," he informed her.

"Jack, I have to stay here," she said, offering no other explanation for such a remark. And again, he was utterly baffled by her reaction to what he was telling her. In fact, he could not believe what he was seeing or hearing. There was only one more thing he could say to make her understand that she could no longer hope to handle this alone. He had to share what else he knew, even though he understood how it would dash her spirit to know of it. It could not be helped, and he used the words to break through to her.

"He still has your grandmother!" he lashed out, forcing the truth upon her. "You don't understand!"

Confused, Jennifer sputtered, "No he doesn't. My grandmother..."

Jack hurled further words at her. "She never got back to Salem," he said, harshly. "All right? You've got to stop playing around like this! You can't play games with Lawrence or he's going to start playing hard ball with you."

But she was talking right through him, as if he was not saying a thing. "You have to leave," she pleaded again. "All of you have to leave. Please!"

"Jennifer, nobody's going to leave," he insisted, and she tried to tell him to leave again, this time turning and fleeing the room, as the last of her words hung in the air. And before he could hope to do a thing, she was gone. Trying to simply breathe, he stared after her, wondering how to get through to that stubborn, headstrong young woman. It had always been a difficult task; now it seemed downright impossible.

Julie was suddenly there at his side. "Were you able to find out from her what's going on?" she asked, softly, worriedly.

"All I know is that there's a lot more going on than we bargained for," he said, with dull resignation. And if there was one thing he was certain about, this was it. Something more was going on. If only he could figure it out.

Ch 427 - The Earth Moved

Jack paced, his right hand rubbing the tension in his neck and feeling the futility of that mindless gesture. He could not erase the tension that resided within him right now. There was no one in the world more stubborn, more headstrong, more aggravating and more beautiful than Jennifer Rose Horton. He was certain of it. And he had every intention of dealing with that, just as soon as he found the means to whisk her away from this place. He was just struggling with how exactly to do that. Especially when she seemed determined to work against him and not with him.

Shane suddenly returned, joining the others and asking the immediate question. "So, what happened to Jennifer?" He was obviously concerned.

"She's determined to keep playing Katerina," Jack muttered, and Julie broke in.

"She must have a good reason for that," she asserted, with a shake of her head.

"I don't know what it is," Jack said, the frustration thick in his voice. "I just told her that Lawrence is most likely behind Steve's death." In his mind, that revelation alone would have terrified and angered her into acquiescence.

"So why is she still doing it?" Shane wanted to know, and Jack felt fingers of frustration as they threatened to choke him.

"I just said I don't know," he ground out, in aggravation. "I think that he's threatening her, but she won't tell me." And that had him hugely unsettled. Whatever Lawrence was doing to threaten her, if she would just admit it to him, he could get past it. He could get both of them past it. It was her stony silence that unnerved him. The Jennifer he knew and loved was a fighter. When she wanted something, you were sure to know of it, and she would not rest until she had it within her grasp. How else had she been able to bring him this far? But something was different now. She was giving up or giving in, and he hated it. It wasn't natural. It wasn't real. It wasn't Jennifer. "Look," he said, pushing it all aside and trying again, "it doesn't matter anymore, it's all...it's all academic. I'm just going to grab her and throw her in the back of the car and we'll just go..."

"No, Jack, you're not going anywhere." Shane was quick to rain on his parade, and Jack was irritated, once more by it. Shane strode toward him, and Jack knew they were going to exchange words, as Julie and Kayla held back, watching.

"Are you going to stop me?" Jack asked, issuing a clear confrontation. He had had just about enough of Shane Donovan and his way of doing things. Or not doing things. Jack was a reactor. He needed action. Not some sort of cockamamie plan. Not some ISA rule book. He need something concrete. Something to do.

"Don't push me," Shane said, tight-lipped, his eyes flashing. "You know I can if I have to, and I will."

Jack was about to offer a retort, but surprisingly, it was Kayla who stepped in first, using words to his defense. "Is nothing going to get in the way of your precious case, Shane?" she asked, defiantly, her own eyes flashing now.

"No, Kayla," Shane said calmly, turning momentarily back to her. "Nothing." Jack offered feeble protest, and Shane expressed himself clearly. "Jack, I'm not letting you go off, half-cocked, so you can blow this whole thing." It seemed to be Shane's biggest concern: preserving the integrity of this mission. And it had Jack hugely frustrated and ready to pound a wall.

Jack tried again. "Let's just get Jennifer out of this before she or anybody else gets hurt," he suggested.

"Fine," Shane said, curtly. "Stick to my plan and we can achieve all our objectives."

Jack felt currents of frustration coursing through him again. "We're not talking about objectives, Shane," he burst out, angrily. "We're talking about PEOPLE!" He turned back to Kayla, seeking support. "Right? Isn't that what's important here? People!" He moved aside, feeling restless and caged, and Kayla followed behind him.

"But Lawrence is probably forcing her to go along with his sick little game," she asserted, trying to appeal to him, and Jack forced himself to hear her words and understand. He only wanted to get Jennifer out of harm's way, but maybe it was important that he heed Kayla's words of warning. Perhaps he really did have to tread more carefully. He was intensely frustrated, forcing his mind to understand it, somehow.

"Kayla's right," Shane put in. "Now we have to stick together, or we might as well all go home right now."

But Jack's primary thoughts were still for Jennifer and her well-being. "There isn't time for you to crack your case, all right?" he burst out, trying to express that much to him. Shane Donovan needed to hear the truth from him. He didn't give a rat's posterior about any ISA mission. All he cared about was releasing Jennifer from this captivity. It had gone on for far too long by now.

"So what do you plan to do instead?" Shane asked, coldly.

"I don't know," Jack admitted. "I don't know. I think we've got to just do something. We can...we can...we can..." He struggled for something. Anything. "We can do something...we can do what Steve always did. I mean, he always just followed his heart instead of his head." It was what Jack wanted to do right now.

"Great," Shane said, almost carelessly. "And that's what got your brother killed, Jack."

Kayla was staring upward at him now, her eyes appealing to him to be careful, her lips closed tightly, holding back the flood of words and feelings that must surely be hers right now. Jack hadn't even realized until this moment how much he relied upon her. How much he set store by her opinions and ideas. How much he sought her approval. He was beginning to realize it now, though. He was beginning to see it, there between them.

"Yeah, that's true," he acknowledged, with grim determination. "But I still think we have to do something. So what are we going to do?" he asked the others. "Are we going to follow Shane and his case, or...stick with me and try to do something?" He paused, seeking a reaction from them. "So, what's it going to be? Are you going to stick with Shane or maybe stick with me and get something done?"

He believed in that moment that he had weighed all the pros and the cons, and Jack was ready to face the situation, even entirely on his own, if need be. He just had to know if he was going to go it alone on this. Or perhaps, by some miracle, one of them would support his efforts. He just had to know, either way.

"All right, Jack," Shane concurred, with real irritation. "Just listen to me."

But Jack was tired of listening. He was tired of being placated and handled and dismissed. He was looking for some real action now. He wanted to get something done. Finally. "Look," he said, facing it head on and moving into action. "There's nothing to talk about anymore. It's every man and woman for themselves, all right?" Now he was certain of it. He was prepared to move on, on his own, if need be. He would go it alone if he had to, because he wasn't doing another thing until he got Jennifer away from that man. Out of here. "Let's just..." He moved aside, ready to brush past the others and find his own destiny. Jack Deveraux would wait for no man. No one and nothing could stop him. Or so he believed in that moment.

Suddenly the lights flickered, and he froze as he heard a sound slowly build. And then the floor began to shake violently, and Jack turned back, his mouth open in surprise and shock, the eyes of the others looking about wildly. He was briefly aware of the women and their screams of panic as the room lurched about, the sound building until it was a deafening cacophony, the lights shutting off and going dark.

It was an earthquake, and it was so unexpected that every last thought and feeling, other than mere survival, fled from his mind. Jack reacted, operating on pure instinct, as he hit the floor, holding his hands over his head to protect himself.

He had come this far, and now it looked as if it might all come to a literal, crashing end. Jack had no time for regrets or lost opportunities. He only had time to hold onto himself and breathe out a quick petition to anyone who was listening. He held his breath, waiting for the world to end.

Ch 429 - The Revelations

The ground stopped shaking. At least Jack thought it did. But his eyes were screwed tightly shut, warding off the images he might see when he opened them again, and he was vaguely aware that he was holding to something for dear life. It was hard and rounded and curved, and he lifted one leg, finding with one shoe that it also had a top.

His first real reunion with reality occurred as he heard his name anxiously being spoken by Kayla and then by Julie. He had to respond in some way. He chose words. "Right here. I...uhhh...you know what they say about your life flashing before your eyes? Well, it's true, but I used Warren Beatty and Clint Eastwood. They've seen enough action for all of us, and why not enjoy your last thirty seconds?" There. The flippant approach. It usually got him out of a tight spot. And at the moment, wedged underneath an ornate table in Lawrence's great room, Jack had certainly been in a tight spot. He cautiously extricated himself, rising to his feet as he spoke.

Kayla's voice, soothing yet strong, returned to him. "Well, I think it's all over now, and we're okay." She definitely spoke too soon. The ground began to rumble and shake again, as Round Two was imminent.

"No we're not! No we're not! Everybody duck!" Jack called out, diving under the table again. Again, the rumbling went on for long, agonizing moments, and Jack, nearly at his wit's end, began to holler at the others. "It's shaking! It's still shaking!" He repeated the words, frantically, over and over again, until he felt fingers of concern upon his wrist, and Jack opened his eyes, making several realizations at once.

Kayla was leaning over, peering anxiously down at him. She was holding him by the wrist, gently but insistently tugging on him, trying to get his attention. And she was speaking, words meant to convey the truth of the situation to him. They weren't shaking. Not anymore. "Jack, it's all right," she said, appealing to him.

He murmured a response back to her and she assured him that it was all right and that he could get up now. He disentangled himself once more, finding the way to his feet again, as Kayla glanced back at the others and what was going on. She only had time enough to get out words to Jack, asking if he was all right, when they were joined by a presence, gleeful and energized.

"Hello Survivors!" he called out, hands thrust into his pockets as he descended the stairs, a jolly smile upon his weathered face. "Did you enjoy that ride?"

Jack spoke for the group. "Ride?" he asked, as if not quite familiar with this particular word. "Was that like-as in enjoy, as in enjoy the pleasure of, derive pleasure from? Is that what you're talking about?" He was irate, both by what had occurred and by Leopold's utterly amazing amiability regarding it. Was this, then, another of the Alamain games?

"Well, it's not everyone's cup of tea, I suppose," Poldy said, with an air about him. "But I like a good jolt. It puts a spin on the afternoon."

A good jolt? Now Jack was irate. He had no time for such games. But he understood that he needed to use his nose for news to find out as much as he could in this time and place, and Poldy had given him a slight clue. Afternoon. It was afternoon? Jack couldn't seem to keep hold of time in this twisted, fairy-tail-esque sort of place. He would have to listen and discover more. There was more to know, more to learn and more to see, not the least of which was Jennifer. Where the hell was she?

* * * * * * *

Pulled back from the hold Frankie had on her, Jennifer stared at him, the first smile in days still lingering on her face. Frankie looked absolutely shocked at sight of her, and they both had the same question to express in those first moments of introduction. "Oh man, oh man," Frankie said, dazedly. "What are you doing here?"

Jennifer let out a small chuckle. "What am I doing here?" she repeated, incredulity in her words. "What are YOU doing here? What...what is going on? What do you have to do with Lawrence?" She still could not make sense of any of this.

Frankie was suddenly serious. "That is a long story," he told her, but then his countenance changed once more, back to a semi-smile, and he asked his question again. "Better question-what are you DOING here? I don't get it."

Jennifer tried to catch her breath, both from the thrill of this unexpected reunion and from the earth-shaking of the past few moments. Gasping to catch her breath, she gave him one of several possible answers. The easiest for him to understand right now. "He has my grandmother here," she said, worriedly. "She's here someplace." He asked if she was kidding, and she gave him a serious response. "No, I wish I were."

There was more, but there was no way to tell him of it all, and she hesitated. But even after all their time apart, he still knew her well. "What is it?" he asked, seeking the truth from her. She didn't know how to tell him, but she knew she must, so she turned to face him again, her eyes large and serious.

"I'm married to Lawrence Alamain." Those words were so abhorrent. She hated everything they meant and even implied. But sadly, those words were the truth-a new truth she had to face. An explosive word of question escaped his lips, as Frankie stared at her with horror lining his features. "Yes," she assured him. "I married him. I'm his wife."

But the horror she had originally seen was even now being replaced with something very different. A dawning realization. An enlightenment in his eyes, as understanding made itself known. "Wait a minute," he said, as if thinking something through. "Then you're the girl...Jasper..." He could not seem to find words to express what he was grasping to know as truth.

"Jasper!" Jennifer gasped the name, feeling a strange sense of wonder surge upward in her. "Yes! Jack was here. When was he here?" Somehow she had to know.

Frankie was looking back and forth at the wall, trying to piece this all together, and before he could actually answer her query, another startling revelation revealed itself to him. "Wait...wait a minute...Jack?"

"Yes, Jack," she said, breathlessly, feeling joy surge now.

"Who's Jack?" That single question, laced with such confusion, reminded her of just how long Frankie had been away from them all in Salem. She realized now that he didn't know of any of it. She explained.

"Jasper! Jack is Jasper. His real name is Jack Deveraux."

Again, Frankie was struggling to fit all the pieces together, to understand what this was all about. But one thing he seemed to have figured out correctly, because he asked the question now. "...you mean Jack Deveraux is your boyfriend?"

* * * * * * *

"Tell me," Shane Donovan said, almost without a care in the world. "Does this sort of thing happen often then?" He was questioning Leopold to know the truth.

"Fairly," the man responded, shortly and succinctly. "We're built on a fault, you know."

"No," Shane said, a bit drolly. "I didn't know."

Leopold chuckled heartily and quipped, "Well, no fault of your own." He was obviously pleased by his own choice of words in that moment. "Well, you see," he went on, explaining to them. "We've never had a major quake here. But if we did, let me assure you that these walls would not come tumbling down."

"Could I have that in writing, please?" Jack asked, pointedly.

"Oh, there's no need to be alarmed, let me assure you," he placated the small group. "This is a very small fault that we're on. In fact, when I talk to the people in town, they tell me they don't even feel the shaking."

"Is that so?" Shane questioned, his expression pulled into a frown of concentration, as if he was trying to figure something out with the pieces he had been given.

Poldy babbled that it was amazing, and then he talked about going to get his gardening in before sunset. Jack, who was still rubbing his neck nervously, was barely paying attention as Leopold took leave, giving parting words to their company. And then he was gone.

Jack's mind was moving, but a bit sluggishly. Somehow, this was not all adding up quite right, but he was still a bit dazed and could not seem to find his way to the truth. Shane did that for them all, as he moved about, examining the place for clues.

"I hope he's right about the quakes around here," Julie was muttering. "I'd hate to go through a major one."

"I know I won't live through one," Jack said, almost to himself in that moment.

"I don't think you have to worry about that, Jack," Shane said, finding his evidence and sharing. Kayla questioned what he meant by that and what he was doing, as he moved about examining one of the room's support beams, and Shane replied, "Just confirming my suspicions." She asked about what, and he responded, "About that earthquake. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't an earthquake."

Julie and Kayla were thoughtful, but Jack was outraged, and his words supported that. "This wasn't an earthquake? Are you insane?"

"I certainly hope not, Jack," was the smug reply. Shane seemed awfully pleased with himself. He knew something. Something more than the others had figured out, and somehow that bothered Jack. He'd been on the cusp of a discovery of his own, but with all that shaking about, how the heck was he supposed to have come up with the answer himself? He was immensely frustrated. Somehow, he didn't want Shane to be right. He hated the feeling when Shane had the answers he had been about to find for himself. He hated being bound by the ISA to this mission. He just wanted to find an out-for himself and for Jennifer, and for the others, as well.

When were they going to catch a break? When could they hope to find that out? He stood, looking at Shane, and he felt the fingers of frustration on his spine. Jack huffed out a heavy sigh. He hated this place.

Ch 431 - A Confession

Jack had just asked Kayla why she had come here, and she was prepared to answer him. Lowering her eyes, momentarily, she found the words lodged in her heart and brought them to the surface to share with him. "You know," she said, uneasily, but forging ahead. "Steve's been gone three weeks." Those words penetrated Jack. He felt as if they should make some sense to him, but they still did not. The unreality was still too strong. And Kayla's strength in being able to say such words aloud was mind-boggling.

"I really can't believe that," she went on, with a small smile and a bit of a sigh. "It seems like yesterday or five minutes ago, and every time I think about it, it really hurts." It hurt him, just to hear these words, but they were important. Important for her to say aloud, to confess to him, to express-and they were important for him to hear and be reminded about, for a variety of reasons. Kayla went on, speaking boldly. "I'm angry and I feel powerless at the same time. I want to throw something or hit somebody." Her words surprised him, somehow. He, better than almost anyone, knew what Kayla was made of. She had an impressive degree of spunk to her, she was headstrong and stubborn and even had a temper, but she was also one of the gentlest human beings he had ever known in his life. Perhaps it had even been that gentleness and quietude that had led him into her life, so many years ago. Something he had needed in his dizzying life. And now she was standing before him, confessing to her anger, and it threw him.

"I swear," she blasted out toward him, "if I had a gun right now, I'd go into that house, and I would find Lawrence Alamain, and I would pull that gun out without a minute's hesitation, and I would shoot him! I would!" Kayla's anger boiled to the surface and overflowed.

And oddly, as her anger was released, it found him feeling strangely protective of her. He could reassure her, somehow, and it was so unexpected and unimagined. That he could offer her help or comfort. Him. "No," he said, quietly, his hand still rubbing on his neck as this uncomfortable moment confronted him. "No you wouldn't," he asserted, softly. "No." He shook his head at her.

And still she had anger left to release. "Don't tell me I don't feel this way," she blurted out, confused and frustrated. "Because I would!"

He had to explain it to her, because for once, Jack knew the answer. He knew the truth of this. "No, no," he murmured again. "Kayla, what I'm saying is that violence is not the answer. I learned that from you a long time ago." And it was true.

Ever since this sordid adventure with Jennifer had begun, Jack had held himself in check, pushing aside any tendencies toward anger and violence and trying to deal with it using ingenuity and reason. Granted, he had not yet achieved success, but he had to believe that success was forthcoming. He had to believe that his was the right approach.

At any point in time, he might have stormed the embassy and whipped out a gun, shooting Lawrence Alamain dead in his tracks. But what would such actions have achieved? He would either be locked up or on the run, and either alternative would have irrevocably separated him from Jennifer, probably for the rest of their lives. There had to be another way, because when this was all said and done, he had to believe there was a hope in the world for the two of them. He had to believe there was hope. And Kayla and Steve had helped teach him that.

Kayla was uncomfortable, he could see. At first, she faced him with incredulity, but then she finally responded, quietly. "I'm not really sure I know what you mean, Jack," she said softly.

What did he mean, exactly? His hand seemed cemented to the back of his neck, as if he was somehow holding himself together, seeking comfort in that old, nervous habit. How could he open up to her, after all they had been through together? But perhaps he really needed to. Even here. Even now. Half a world away from where things had gone so horribly wrong between them. He had pushed aside so many opportunities to talk to her about it. To tell her how it made him feel. To seek some sort of atonement for his behavior and actions. And somehow, he had always found excuses to let the moments pass, like water droplets dripping out of a tilted cup.

There were times he might have talked to Steve about it. There were moments when he had been brave enough to broach the topic, even. But Steve had always erected an immediate wall when the subject had come up. Steve had never wished to remember it or discuss it with him. Steve hadn't given him the chance to unburden himself of that massive load of guilt, and Jack had so often wished he would. There were times he had almost pushed it anyway, just blurted it out, for the sake of having it said. But he had always held back, unwilling to hurt his brother in that way. Enough of a coward to push it away and pretend it did not exist.

Now he had another opportunity. And after losing Steve, he understood that opportunities were something precious and rare. Something to be grasped and held and released and shared. He needed to step out and take this chance. To talk to Kayla, while he was able. He had to tell her the truth. He had to give her the answers to the unspoken questions each had avoided for so long.

"I mean," he said, with painstaking honesty. "I learned from you...Kayla." He forged onward. "I learned from the way you and Steve..." He nearly choked on the words, but they needed release. "...lived, and continued to love...through..." God, this was so much harder than he had even imagined it could be. Was it any wonder that he and Steve had been unable to share it. But he had come this far, and he would have to be brave enough to share it all. "I mean, you know me," he said, his voice shaking a bit. "You know me better than anybody. Where I've been and what I've been capable of doing..." His voice trailed off, but he was strangely fortified.

Here he was, standing before her, facing her, watching her, not even avoiding her eyes. There must have been inner reserves of strength that he had carried all this time, not even knowing they were there. Not even realizing he was able to do this. And now that it had begun, he wanted to go all the way. He wanted to bring himself to the very brink he had been unable to approach for so long.

"I never talked with Steve about it," he confessed to her, watching as her eyes lowered nervously up and back down to the ground. He knew he was making her uncomfortable, but he also knew it was time to get them both past it. To the next level. To the next place. Jack knew why he and Steve had not talked about 'it,' but he would not say anything remotely against Steve. Not to Kayla. Not now or ever. If there was one person in the world who had revered Steve even more than he did, it had been Kayla. He would not allow anything but good memories and reminders of the man they had both loved. Instead, Jack took the responsibility upon himself, whether right or wrong. "I just never...and now it's too late," he admitted. And then he went the next step in the final mile of their journey together. "It's maybe not too late to talk about it with you."

Kayla balked, understandably. Jack almost felt bad for putting her in that position, except that he needed so desperately to do this. He could not let another such moment pass him by. Especially not now, when it mattered so much to him. When he was ready to move along with his life and with Jennifer. Finally. He had to put the past more to rest first. And this was what he had to do in order to make that happen.

Nervously, she stammered, "No...you really don't have to talk to me about it." And she turned away from him, unable to bring herself to face it.

Jack would not relent. He could not give up this one chance to make things better for them both. "I think maybe we do," he said, firmly, to her back.

Kayla's arms were crossed protectively in front of her, as if she was holding herself together, and behind her, his own arms were crossed, his with determination. "I know I do," he said, trying to find the words to use.

"I know I've taken too much for granted," he confessed to her. "I took Steve for granted. I took..." How could he say this? There were no words for such a situation, so he had to use the only ones he could find, inadequate as they were. "I took making up for granted. I always thought there would be time," he admitted, with a degree of wonder in his voice. "And there would be a better time and there would be a time after that. And then suddenly, there was no more time."

He made it sound so simplistic, somehow, but it was such a complex matter. But somehow, the words themselves didn't even matter. It was the feelings that were finally being pushed to the surface, allowed to meet the air.

Kayla, to her eternal credit, tried to spare him from going through it. She still didn't understand how it had haunted him, almost from the moment it had happened between them. She didn't understand how much he needed to shed himself of the constant ache of what he had done-the never-ending guilt and shame of it. He had to do this, even if it made her uncomfortable. He had to, or he would never be fully able to move forward with Jennifer or with his life.

Jennifer. Kayla thought he was opening up about all of this because of his fears for her, because she said, "You know, I really think that Jennifer's going to be all right." She wanted to steer him away from this moment, put him back on another track. But he could not. It was the same track, and he could only go forward on it.

Kayla was facing him again, wearing a smile she had pasted upon her face, trying to lead him elsewhere, but he would not go. Not without speaking his piece first. "We're not talking about Jennifer," he said, forcing the words toward her. "I hope she's going to be all right. I hope we're all going to be all right. But if we're not..." And difficult as this was, he had to get it out there. "I just want to let you know that I appreciate..." How the hell could he say this right? "...yours and everyone's chances that you've taken with me." He could not worry about the actual words. He just have to give a place for his feelings. "I haven't always deserved them," he confessed, "but I want you to know that I...that I know that." He had come part way, but there was more, and it was difficult to find words. Jack pushed himself to go the extra distance and complete what he had finally begun.

"And I want you to know that I...ahhh...am sorry for what I did to hurt you."

She was looking down, stealing glances with him, so obviously uncomfortable, but so generously allowing him to do this to the both of them. He was glad she had quieted and was going to hear him out. He was relieved that it was finally happening.

"That I am sorry," he repeated, now going on. "...seems like such a little word doesn't it? So hard to say." But he forced himself to say it now. Before her. For her. Aloud.

"Rape." The word was small and ugly and unreal, a bullet in the air between them. He was shaking now, having come this close to the reality. He was swallowing, almost convulsively, in his nervousness. And Kayla was still as a statue, her eyes lifted to his, her lips set, her eyes sharing her hurt. And somehow, despite it all, it was right. For the first time in a very long time, it was right between them. Almost. But he had to go the rest of the way, and now he was empowered to do that. Her silence gave him permission to go all the way.

Ch 433 - The Price of Fear

Jennifer shook with the knowledge that Frankie had gotten so close to the truth of her situation, and she struggled to maintain control, to keep the truth from him, just as she had determined to keep it from everyone else. It was the only way she knew to protect them all. But Frankie was undeterred. "What did Alamain do?" he asked again, pushing her for a response. "Did he threaten you? Huh?"

She was turned away, but the voice behind her was steady and sharp, demanding to know the truth, and she hugged herself tightly, trying to still the shaking that had begun with his probing questions.

She felt his hand upon her arm, turning her, as he said, "Jenn, come on. Talk to me." And she turned to face him, her eyes trying to hide how very wounded she was. "Tell me," he whispered, trying to set her at ease.

"I can't," she said, tearfully, pleading silently for him to understand and let it be. She shook her head, and he said that she could do it, but she knew the reality. She could never tell anyone what had happened in this fortress. She could never admit what had happened here.

"Come on, it's me," he said, gently, and with patience she found so reassuring. "You can trust me. You know that. You can tell me anything." He silently and almost hypnotically implored her with his eyes, and Jennifer felt lost for a moment. Lost back in her childhood, when they had been such good friends to one another. For a moment, she was that young girl again, with such incredible optimism and high hopes for the future. Somehow, Frankie still represented that to her. A friendship that could endure even their long months and many miles apart. Someone she could turn to, even as she might have her grandmother or one of her family back home.

It suddenly seemed so very easy. To just open her mouth and speak to him, removing herself from the reality and voicing the words that would tell him what he demanded to know. After all, she had nothing to lose. This was Frankie. He would be her friend, no matter what. Quite suddenly, she forget her impulse to protect him, as she had determined to protect the others. In that moment, he was just Frankie. Her friend. Asking her to confide in him. It seemed so deceptively simple to just do that.

"Frankie," she said, breathless with what she was about to do. "It was right after the wedding," she began, the words tumbling about inside her to reach the surface and find air. "Right after the wedding, he brought..." But the words never reached completion, as the door behind her flung open, and Lawrence stood before them, his eyes glittering evilly at them both.

She knew of her folly instantly, in the moment her eyes met his. She had come so close to almost telling Frankie, and she remembered in a startling flash of blinding certainty what would have happened next. Frankie would have been in danger. She would have compromised his safety, all for the sake of removing this burden from her oppressed shoulders. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized it.

"Well," Lawrence said, coming nearer and managing to sound threatening without even fully trying. "I hope you've enjoyed your little visit...but I'm afraid it's over now." She struggled to breathe, gasping a bit, but he looked to her with cool disdain. "Time to go." It was not open for interpretation or discussion. He reached for her hand, and without even knowing why, she reached back, allowing him to take her by his hold and pull her from the room, even as she shook to control herself.

A voice followed her ears, and she heard Frankie speak. "Take your hands off her, Alamain," he said, with shielded rage. "You're not taking her anywhere."

Jennifer turned to face Frankie, her eyes reaching out to him, begging him without words to not make this worse. Lawrence now had his hands on her two shoulders, his grip one of marked territoriality and silent intimidation. She was caught between the two of them. Caught between her old life and her new one. And the new life had her well within its grips, certain not to let go for even an instant. She was literally terrified at how close she had come to endangering someone due to her foolishness.

Lawrence answered, and his voice was neither amused nor aggravated, but strangely and deathly calm. "Are you challenging me?" he asked, and Jennifer felt herself try to shake her head at Frankie. She watched as his eyes flashed back and forth, from her to her captor, and she knew the danger he was in if this went on. If only she could get Lawrence to leave right now, but her tongue was silenced, unable to speak for her.

"Get your filthy hands off her," Frankie snarled, and Jennifer felt overcome by helpless dismay.

"She's my wife." Lawrence spoke the words with brute force, and Jennifer knew that his eyes were on Frankie, challenging him with his snakelike charm.

"She's your prisoner," Frankie countered, his anger barely held in check. "Take your hands off her, man, before I break your neck," he warned, his lips in a tight line of defiance.

Jennifer was horrified. She managed only a brief word or two. "Frankie...don't..." But what happened next was even worse than her imaginings. Lawrence snapped his fingers, and pushed her to one side, and guards rushed the room, going straight to Frankie and reaching ominously for him.

"Wait," she pleaded, wishing there was a way to stop this from happening. The guards descended upon him, beating him, as she stared, helpless with horror, gasps of words and fights for air coming from her numbed lips. She could not look, she could not look away, and she felt each blow as if it had been against her.

In moments, they had done their part, and Lawrence calmly said, "That's the end of that show."

Frankie looked on him wildly, gasping for his own words. "I'm warning you, man," he managed to say. "I'm gonna get you."

Lawrence spoke, sounding almost jovial. "We all have to feel useful in life, Frankie. I think you should know how useful you've been to me." Jennifer was frozen in misery and fear, as Frankie demanded to know what that could mean. And then Lawrence's grip tightened on her, and she could feel his gaze back on her now. "Well, as happy as we are together," he said, referring to his new bride, "I'm not sure my wife would have said 'I do' if it wasn't for you."

Jennifer saw the look of sick revulsion in Frankie's eyes, and she wished for some way to stop this madness, but she was quite powerless, as Lawrence's mysterious words went on. "And now, I hope you'll persuade a second beautiful woman to do my bidding."

Jennifer could have no idea what such words might mean, but she was petrified for who else Lawrence might have here, under lock and key. Jennifer felt herself being pulled out of the room, even as she heard Frankie's shout echo and reverberate. "You're not going to get away with this!" he called out, hollering for Jennifer not to worry. And then she heard his final chilling words. "I'm going to KILL YOU, Alamain!"

She was numb as Lawrence pulled her back from that room and that area, toward the elevator and up to his room again. He had so few words for her, and she didn't know if that made her feel better or worse. At least his words could be a gauge in which she could sense his demeanor, but his cool and abrupt quiet had her more agitated, if that was even possible.

And before she could find words with which to address him, he had her at her bedroom door, shoving her back into place and warning her with well-chosen threats. "Our guests will be preparing for dinner," he spat out at her. "I'd advise you to do the same." And the door slammed and locked behind her.

Safe at last in the relative security of this silent room, she could allow herself to shake again, feeling the burning imprint of where his fingers had scorched her arms. Jennifer held herself close and shook, feeling the horrible certainty of what she had nearly done.

She had come so close to confessing the truth to Frankie, and it had been disastrous. Even without that knowledge, just surmising that she had been threatened, Frankie's anger had led to that terrible display of violence. She was responsible for that, she knew. And her actions would surely seal his fate should she be so foolish again.

But Frankie's face quickly evaporated from her mind, and in its place was the image of Jack that she carried with her at all times. Jack, who was everything in the world to her. What if Jack should come back? What if he should face Lawrence? If he ever even imagined what had happened to her-she was terrified of his reaction and what would come of it.

She had to protect Jack from what would be the ultimate rage and wild, unbridled anger alive in him. She had to say or do anything to keep him from the truth. Because in her mind's eye, she now carried the image of Frankie being beaten, and all she could imagine was it happening to Jack. To Jack, who had been so very gentle to her, each and every time he had touched her. She could not bear to imagine the pain that could be inflicted upon him, and the very idea that it would be her fault was too horrible for thought.

She knew only one thing. She could never tell him anything of what was happening here. If Jack had even an inkling of what was happening to her, it would surely seal his fate. She would hide the truth. Bury it, deep down. Lie, even, to protect it and him. She would do anything for him. Anything. Even let him go.

Ch 435 - The Edge of Truth

Jack wound his way through the hallways of the Alamain compound, working his way to the room he knew was hers. It was over, he told himself. The waiting. The holding back. The following the rules and maintaining order. He was done with it. He was going to Jennifer's room now and have it out with her. He refused to wait a moment longer. He had already waited too long.

A part of his mind raced with the side notes of what was happening beyond him. He knew that his cohorts were preparing to meet downstairs, and he understood that Lawrence had something 'special' planned for the evening, but that did not matter. He would not waste another moment of time. He would not talk to one more person who would work to dissuade him from what he knew he had to do. He had to see her. Now.

There it was. The door to her room. But suddenly he wondered if she was there. He knew she had not made an appearance downstairs, and he could only imagine her to be here, a virtual prisoner of the compound, he was sure.

And now, standing before that door, he hesitated only briefly. If she was not here, he would simply wait. Sooner or later, she would have to show up. And if she was here... His heart began to pound with the anticipation of seeing her again. But Jack could not forget the last time he had seen her. She had been nervous, stand-offish, hesitant, fearful. She had tried to push him away, and he believed he might face such resistance again. So with a deep breath, he made his choice. He would not knock. He would simply open the door and enter.

He reached a hand out to touch the knob, drawing it instantly back again, and then fortifying himself to try once more. This time, his hand made contact with the knob, and he turned it slowly, simultaneously pushing the door open. And there she was. The breath came out of his body in a whoosh of air as his eyes feasted upon her. How was it possible to miss another person so desperately, when you had just seen her a day or so before? He was sure he would never know the answer to that question, but it mattered not. Jack silently entered the room and gently shut the door behind him, and she never saw him.

Jennifer was standing before him, facing away from him, and he could not know what was in her heart or on her mind. But he could find a millisecond with which to admire the view before him. She was wearing a fitted black dress, her slender and shapely calves a creamy beige that was in stark contrast to the dark attire. And her hair. God, that hair. It tumbled down her back in one glorious, golden curtain, and Jack had to resist the urge to fly forward and reach for it. With tremendous strength, he held himself back, watching her. She moved so curiously, and he wondered what she was doing, and then he realized that he could make out some of her action through the mirror she stood before. He studied her, so intently.

Jennifer pulled off her wedding ring and held it, unsure what exactly she meant to do with it, knowing full well what she wanted to do about it. She wanted to throw it, as far and as hard as she could, hurling it and the memory of what it represented right out of her life.

Jack was directly behind her now, his head dipped low, watching her in the reflection of the mirror. He could sense the indecision within her, but he could not quite observe the great sadness in her eyes. He examined her so closely that he did not realize the small creak from the floor board beneath him. But she heard it, and it startled her into awareness.



Jennifer jumped and turned, facing him, and he watched the color drain from her face. Jack kept his features neutral by great effort, his eyes meeting hers, forming a question mark of sorts. She released a sigh, and he wondered if it was one of relief or one of regret. Her words, spoken on that sigh, confirmed his fear. She was breathless and anxious, and she said, "You shouldn't be here, Jack."

But what exactly did that mean, he asked himself in that moment. She did not quite say she didn't want him here, merely that he 'should not' be here. But one thing was for certain. She was still prepared to keep up with this charade. She was still trying to keep him back. "You don't mean that," he said, rather unemotionally, which was surprising, given the fact that all his emotions were rushing for the surface, vying for preeminence.

"Yes, I do," she insisted, with a small nod of her head. "Because I'm a married woman now." It hurt her to say such words to him. But it would hurt them both far more for him to believe there was a chance to have her now. Jennifer knew the truth and he did not. She could never belong to him. Her only hope in the world was to protect him. Send him away. Far away. And keep him safe.

But Jack asked a very strange question. "What about happily?" he asked, quietly and seriously. Because in his mind, that was important. She had conveniently left out perhaps the most important word in that age-old equation.



"What?" She didn't understand. Or perhaps she did and wished not to admit it.

"Happily," he provided for her, amazing himself at his ability to remain calm and seemingly unaffected. But Jack knew he had to break through her wall and destroy her layer of silence. "It's part of the phrase women use when they are trying to avoid their feelings. I'm a happily married woman."

Her voice shook, but her words were clear. "Well, I am a happily married woman, so could you go...please?" Jennifer was fighting for control now, feeling tears so perilously close. Right now, she wanted nothing more in the world than to be held in his arms, safe and protected from all this madness. But it was not to be. The only thing she could do would be to send him away and then take mild comfort in the fact that he was safe.

"Answer one question and I'll go," he offered, and she gave her consent, eager for him to say his piece and leave again. And this time, to really leave. For good. Jack's arms were crossed before him, in a gesture of self-control and irritation, and he moved past her and toward the bed, ready to confront her. "How could you be a happily married woman," he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed there and staring up at her, "when you have your own bedroom?"

Her eyes were large and round and frightened by the question, but she could not tear her gaze from him there. The sight of him before her was so very precious, and she felt the ache of those unshed tears again. It took every last ounce of her strength and effort to make him believe that she didn't care anymore. When the truth was, she cared more than ever before. She cared so much it hurt. Everything hurt. Everything was wrong. She felt the claws of despair upon her. "What did you say?" she asked, stalling for time.

Jack seemed unfazed by the request, and he told her so. "I'd be more than happy to repeat the question. If you and Lawrence are so happily married, what are you doing sleeping in this bedroom? I didn't think separate bedrooms were the hot ticket with newlyweds this year." He knew he had gotten to her with that question, because she lowered her eyes, desperately trying to find an answer to give. But he didn't need her words. He could read the answer in her expressive eyes.

"Well, for your information, I'm not sleeping here," she told him, breathlessly, releasing air on a false laugh.

Okay, he'd play along, just a bit. "Hmmm, you were with the tour, and you just got separated from the rest of the party? Is that it?"

"I left something in the room, and I wanted to come back and get it," she interjected. "Not that it's any of your business." Her words were sharp and accusatory, but her voice was soft and sweet, even now.

"Jennifer," he said, gently, as he got to his feet again. "I think your business is my business, and vice versa." And they both understood that he was not referring to the newspaper business right now. There was nothing businesslike about any of this anymore. It was entirely personal.

It was too close. The feelings and the memories and the desires were just too close, and Jennifer reached desperately for something to tether herself down. The hairbrush! Of course. Her fingers grabbed for it, and she lifted it, running it through her hair. "I just left my brush here, and I wanted to come get it." Nervously, she continued to brush her hair, to demonstrate that need to him. But he was not buying it.

"Jennifer," he said, sounding immensely frustrated. "I've bought a lot of stories in my time. That is the business I'm in. Stories. But I really hope you don't expect me to believe this sophomoric tale about you sleeping with Lawrence."

She could not look at him, and her chest rose and fell as she tried with desperation to continue to breathe. She felt as if she was drowning right now, here before him. And held inside, with the air she was denied, were the feelings she could not admit to. Just the idea that he could believe she had slept with Lawrence was so hurtful. He could not possibly know the reality-the cold, harsh and dark reality of what Lawrence had done to her. It still made her sick, and she protected him from the truth by holding it far apart from him.

"Any rebuttals?" he went on saying. "Besides...I know how much...that means to you..." And having voiced such a thing, he moved away from her and across the room, needing that physical separation in this emotional moment.

And now she really did want to cry. There may have been a time when she had wondered if he truly understood that about her, but from the tone of his voice, the sudden stillness between them, she knew the truth. He did understand. And he didn't believe, for one instant, that she had been with Lawrence. It was small comfort in the moment. "I'm sorry, Jack," she said, softly, trying to hide the quiver in her voice. She wasn't even sure that she had meant for him to hear it, but he did.



He stopped where he was and turned back to look at her. She was sorry? Sorry? A million feelings, ideas and imaginings went through his mind in that moment. Jack's heart was still beating inside him. Had he finally brought her to the edge of truth? Was she, then, going to admit the truth to him, now that he had confronted her? He stared at her for a long moment, trying to remain calm and neutral. What was she saying she was sorry for? He had to know.

Ch 437 - An Inevitable Certainty

Jack moved furtively, and if there was anyone who knew how to move in that way, it was Jack Deveraux. Moving furtively insured that he would not be seen, but even more than that, it kept his heart beating with regularity. He rather thought it had stopped upon seeing Jennifer again, and when she had breathlessly agreed that she would meet him tonight, he wasn't sure if that had restarted it, or if that had been the means to effectively stop it. Either way, he knew his heart was beating now, and he made his way through the Alamain compound and toward a very definite, very precise point.

The garage. It wasn't as if it was a place he'd had occasion to be in all that much during his days long quest. But it was where he had asked her to meet him tonight, and Jack had to stake the place out before then. He had to make certain that it was as secure a location as he might be able to locate-it would be the starting point in their great escape. And suddenly, it was all he wanted in the world. He didn't care about turning this into some award-winning story. He didn't care about the others who had risked themselves to be here. He only cared about getting Jennifer the hell out of here.

But a murmur of voices greeted his honed ears as he rounded the corner toward the garage, and as he crept nearer, he could clearly identify the participants of this casual conversation. It was Julie, and she was engaging Leopold in trivialities. Jack, who had removed his shoes and now moved quietly about the hardened floors, held his shoes tightly in his hand and made the decision to enter the garage, even as the conversation transpired. He crouched down behind one of Leopold's vintage automobiles, forcing his breath to quiet, as he listened for any sort of clue he might be able to use.

Talk of the car moved to talk about their children, and Jack pushed aside his obvious impatience. If only Julie could keep Leopold moving, perhaps they would move out of here and he could get down to business. But it was not for him to orchestrate, and he had to remain quiet and watchful, no matter what might come next. Half his mind was on the surroundings, taking it in and already formulating mental plans for this evening's escape. But then he heard Leopold's words, and he stopped to consider them.

"I do have a daughter now," Leopold was saying, almost wistfully, and Jack could understand, in that moment, that he truly held Jennifer in his esteem. It was a source of small comfort to imagine that this gentleman felt protective of her, as well. Julie was murmuring back, words about Katerina and how lovely she was, and Leopold answered that, as well. "I worry about her," he was saying, thoughtfully. "So sweet." Julie questioned his concerns, and his next words surprised Jack, nearly toppling him over from his concealment on the far side of the automobile. "There's this old acquaintance of hers that you were talking to this morning. Jack Deveraux."

Jack swallowed, noiselessly, his ears now perked to take in any information that was being leaked. "I'm afraid for her," Leopold was confiding, in an oddly serious tone. It made Jack's breath knock into his ribs. What had Leopold Alamain to fear, with regards to Jennifer? The concept was disturbing. Did the man know something that he did not? Nothing in the world could have moved him from his place now, as he listened intently, hoping to understand if there was some sort of threat that affected Jennifer. But Leopold's words were the very last ones he expected to hear next, and the breath that had knocked him aside seconds ago, was now frozen within his chest, alongside his stilled heart.

"I'm afraid she's in love with Jack," Leopold was saying, worriedly. "I can see it in her face, in her eyes when she looks at him and he isn't watching. It's true love." And Jack could now do nothing more than blink. What unexpected, grand and glorious words to contemplate, even in such a setting as this. Stooped low behind a beautiful automobile, in the garage of a wealthy, powerful family, listening to a stranger as he spoke of the woman he loved-Jack was literally breathless.

This stranger had seen it. It was one thing when he had been assaulted with the truth from people in their own lives. His family. Her family. Friends. Acquaintances. People who came in and out of their daily lives. Anyone who had spent appreciable time near them. But here? Now? Halfway around the world, far from familiarity? By a man who didn't even know them! Leopold Alamain could even see it. Jack felt weak-kneed, and he was vaguely grateful that he had already sunk down low, because he was quite certain his legs never would have held him up in this moment. Everyone from Salem to here to back again understood the inevitable certainty. She loved him.

But why, now, when Jack was beginning to believe and understand it-why was it now that Jennifer was starting to falter? What had happened to bring her to that point? She had pushed him away, and perhaps she was even now preparing to do that again. Jack struggled to make some sense of it, but it was as if his mind was sluggish and unresponsive. All his senses were heightened right now, but in that one part of his mind, he could find no clear answers.

Julie was responding to Poldy's assertion, and Jack resumed focus on their words. "Does it make you angry, Leopold?" she asked, gently. "After all, she is married to your son."

And Leopold's reaction to that question was even more startling. Jack would certainly have expected his righteous indignation over the perceived injustice of such a thing, and yet Leopold's eyes crinkled and he smiled as he spoke. "Well, it is an arranged marriage," he admitted, sheepishly. "And not one of heart, but a marriage nonetheless. It's an arrangement made with Lawrence's best interests at heart."

He had to leave, in this precise moment. It wasn't even about the risk of being caught there, eavesdropping. It was more about what else he might hear and have to process. Jack stealthily moved back toward the open door and out, even as Julie was telling their host that she had a feeling everything would work out. Back around the corner, inside the passageway that led back up to the house, he stood, catching his breath and focus again, leaning back against the wall and forcing himself to be calm.

If ever he had needed confirmation for why he had come to this place and what it was he needed to do now, he had just received it, and from the most unlikely and unexpected of sources. An now, feeling strangely fortified for that which lay ahead, he was ready to face the next move. He just wished he knew what it was.

He had to find the others. He had to let them know that he had at least gotten Jennifer to agree to meet him tonight. But even as he moved along, silent and pensive, Jack carried a nagging feeling within. For all he knew, Jennifer could be actively deciding to stand him up this evening. Her assurances may merely have been designed to get him out of her room. He wished he knew that, one way or the other. How to proceed.

Moving forward, he came to a cross path, and rather than turn one way and head into the main house, Jack decided to take the exterior door and check out the garden. Perhaps one of their party was there. After all, he had left Kayla there, what seemed like hours ago. Perchance she or one of the others could be there now.

Hoping that this course might reunite him with the party and not with either of the Misters Alamain, Jack moved along, silent and overtly aware of his surroundings. So aware, in fact, that he didn't even register a start when suddenly confronted with Shane Donovan. "Jack."

"Shane." They were nothing, if not civil to one another, despite all that had gone on between them by now. "Tell me what you know," Jack instructed, certain beyond doubt that Shane would have something to tell.

The smirk was either on the cocky side, or filled with impatience, but Jack did not care. Shane was nodding, and he knew there was news. "It seems our small party has just gotten a bit larger," Shane informed him, mysteriously.

"Meaning?" Jack prodded. He didn't want to play games. He just wanted the facts. And as quickly and succinctly as possible.

"Add place settings for two more," Shane said, his mouth drawn as he shook his head slightly. Jack looked at him, registering that there was, indeed, news to be told, and Shane completed the thought. "Carly Manning just arrived," he said, and before Jack could even work up a surprised look, he added more. "And Bo, as well."

"Carly and Bo?" Jack asked, incredulously, now shaking his own head. "What the hell are they doing here?" Shane gave a slight shrug, and Jack huffed his eternal impatience at this. He was monumentally tired of it all. He just wanted to scoop up Jennifer over his shoulder and carry her off in the direction of Salem. But how the heck was he supposed to do that, when someone new popped up at every turn? "What is this, old home week?" he asked, frustrated that two more individuals would now be interfering in what was already an overcrowded slate of players. "What should we expect next? The Salem Philharmonic? The town council? Salem High School, Class of 1990, just flown in for a once-in-a-lifetime senior class trip?" Jack muttered incoherently, raking his fingers through his hair and pacing a bit.

"Jack, I know you are frustrated," Shane observed, with something akin to sympathy in his voice. He actually sounded frustrated, as well. Then, his voice dropping a notch lower, he asked, quietly, "Did you see Jennifer?"

"I did," Jack admitted, with another huff he could not hold back. "I'm telling you, Shane," he said, looking into his companion's dark and flickering eyes, "something is going on here. Something is definitely going on..."

Ch 439 - A Meeting Aborted

Shane led Jack back to a portion of the garden, a place well enough away from the house to be slightly removed and discreet, and he saw the others gathered there, some already dressed for the evening, the others yet to have returned to their rooms. And precisely as Shane had described to him, there stood Bo and Carly, in the center of it all, in the thick of it. Jack pushed back his increased irritation at seeing them and greeting them both, in tones clipped and brusque. "Bo, Carly."

And Bo lit right in, with his usual impressive display of arrogance and impatience. "What the hell is going on with Jennifer?" It certainly was the million dollar question, and with all them gathered, Jack was still no closer to finding a reasonable answer for it, something he found absolutely maddening.

Jack maintained his cool. This time. He crossed his arms and raised up one hand, speaking as though he were a professor on the subject. "Well, the only thing I'm sure of is that I'm not sure of anything. Jennifer's not telling us the truth, the whole truth and nothing but." And that was the crux of it all.

Bo was right there, ready to share his own take on things, stating the obvious in his own words. "Well, this whole thing about her being in love with Alamain-that's a load of bull."

Jack certainly did not need for them to spend the next ten minutes restating what had just been said. It was obvious that they were all in agreement on the matter. Jennifer was not being truthful. She was lying, and badly. But the more important matter was the issue of WHY. "The important thing is why is she trying to act like the blushing bride," Jack said, struggling for calm. "That's what I want to find out."

Shane spoke up next, and his words caused the others to remain silent for a moment. "Look, there's something we're all forgetting," he had said. "All right, the real Katerina von Leuschner. Where is she?"

Another excellent question, and one without an apparent answer, at least in this moment. The others were silent, pensive, examining it for themselves. But no one could venture a guess. Shane went on. "I mean, obviously she never showed up for the wedding, right? And that means the pact should have been finished. But somehow, Alamain has managed to keep it going, and now the von Leuschner and the Alamain families are united." His next words were almost chilling. "Whether she knew it or not, Jennifer has made him a very powerful man."

Kayla spoke for the first time, heartwarming Jack with her reference to her lost husband. "So having Steve killed just made him more powerful and gave him more money." They were all shocked and appalled. Were there no limits to this man and what he would do for his ultimate goal?

Shane spoke from his vast knowledge and experience, something Jack was growing wearily accustomed to. "Oh, Kay, I don't think we're dealing with just a businessman looking for a quick buck. No, Lawrence is motivated by some very powerful emotions, and there's someone here who knows more than we think, only she's not talking."

"Jennifer," Julie provided, pushing her name and presence to the forefront again, and Shane said she was right. Bo asked again. So what did they do now? And Shane provided the answer they all needed.

"Everything seems to point to this evening of the big party. He's obviously going to make his move then and that's when we make our move." The words hung heavy in the air. "Everyone agreed?" he asked, and there was silence, implying consent.

But Jack, who was hunched over, his elbows resting on the patio wall, was not moving and not responding. And sure enough, Shane found the opportunity to single him out. "Jack?"

"Hmm?" He came back to the present and gave his consent. "Yes, yes."

Carly suggested that they'd better go. They didn't want Lawrence to catch them all together like this, and general consensus agreed. The company filed out, one after the other, off to their various posts, passing the minutes until the evening hour meal would be presented, very shortly.

Slowly and silently, Jack moved with the parade, getting lost inside their ranks for a moment, before finally slipping silently into his room. It was time to dress for dinner, and the thought gave him no real satisfaction. Except for the fact that it undoubtedly would bring him a step closer to Jennifer again. There was no way she could avoid taking dinner with them all, and he would have the luxury and thrill of being able to examine her at that time.

Sooner or later she was going to let down her defenses, and he would be first witness to it. It was important to him, that he be the one to break down her walls of defense. That he be the one to find the answers and rescue her from this. Shane Donovan and the ISA could ask all the questions they wanted. They could give all the answers, too. And Bo and Carly and the rest of Salem could be standing by, for all he cared. But there was one thing he was firm on. He would be the one to get through to Jennifer. The rest of it-bringing down Lawrence Alamain-they could have it. Only once he was sure of Jennifer's safety and security would he even think about pursuing anything more.

* * * * * * *

Dinner had not brought any of them closer to resolution on these matters. Jack and the others had gathered together, dressed accordingly, sharing a rich meal in a formal dining room. But Katerina had not shown herself. Lawrence made apologies for his new bride, claiming a headache which had taken hold. Jack watched, as indeed he had decided to do, but this time he watched Lawrence Alamain and his interactions with the others. This was a man in ultimate control. A man whose every move, every word meaningfully chosen, plotted, and carried out with the utmost precision.

If he had been capable of truly examining what was before him, Jack might have glimpsed upon the truth, just by the way this man conducted himself about the others. The immense power he emanated. The self-assurance and easy, regal demeanor. Perhaps, if Jack had not stood so close to the truth, he might have begun to understand. But he was blissfully unaware, hopelessly without a clue. He still had no idea in the world what was going on in Jennifer's world...

* * * * * * *

Fingers flew across the page, the act of absolving oneself of one's feelings and emotions into words just too rich and heady an experience to even describe. But Jennifer felt an amazing freedom, just committing the words to paper. Lawrence Alamain might be in control of every other aspect of this situation, but this was where she parted ways with him. That man had already taken so much from her, including her innocence and her very life. But he could not take her thoughts from her. He could not steal her feelings.

She understood the inherent danger in the matter, but her emotions washed into the words which spilled onto the page before her. 'But I cannot resist meeting Jack tonight.' The isolation she felt was acute. She had taken dinner in her room, upon Lawrence's 'request,' and as much as she was relieved to be away from all those many eyes, she felt helpless and alone, her only source of comfort and consolation in the words that kept her company.

'It's almost ten o'clock,' she wrote in the journal, and then she gave herself a small 'to be continued' to signify that there would be no further words tonight. Jennifer closed the book and clicked the pen, lifting it and crossing the room back to her bed, and then lifting the covers at the corner and gently returning the prized possession to its hidden place.

She didn't know what she was going to say to Jack, but she knew what she was supposed to say to him when they met in a few minutes. She prayed she might have the courage to do what she needed to do, and at the same time, she hoped to heaven to hurt him as little as possible. It was the very last thing she ever wanted to do. Tears stung her eyes as she thought about how wonderful he was, coming her to her rescue, even after the many times and ways she had pushed him aside. But still he had come. And still, he wanted her to go home with him. She only wished she could.

Jennifer crossed the room, reaching for the handle and opening the door, and she nearly gasped out loud as a figure loomed before her. She did not even need to see him first to know it was Lawrence. His very presence was sinister and evil, his aura foreboding. "My bride," he said, brightly and with a smile. "Are you going somewhere?"

She told him she had wanted to go out for a walk, and he had reminded her that she had already been out for one. Jennifer babbled about the nights in Salem and not having the chance to see skies like the ones here, but Lawrence did not buy it for a moment.

He chuckled, so condescendingly. "Your fertile mind never ceases to amaze me," he said, and even though she had turned from him, she felt the close of her bedroom door shake through her very soul. "You have an explanation for everything."

It was rather ironic that it was something she had honed under Jack's tutelage by now. She had always been clever and inventive, with her parents, her grandparents, Mike, her friends and family, but once she had begun her work with Jack, she had really brought it to staggering new heights. "You're very clever," he said, almost under his breath, somewhere near her ear, and she fought back another shudder of distaste. "But not clever enough to go up against me," he reminded her, making a gentle threat. "You'll lose. And a third party will have to pay the price."

"You don't have to keep reminding me," she said, quietly, her heart sinking as she realized she would not be able to keep her appointment with Jack. But Lawrence was saying something, and she focused on his words and their cryptic meaning. He told her to be patient for just a few more days. Until his father's birthday celebration. And after that, she would not have to worry about anything. Or anyone.

"What's going to happen at that party?" she asked him, staring him directly in the eye. But he refused an answer, choosing instead to leave her with more hidden meanings and veiled threats. And then he left her with a feather-light kiss upon her cheek, and a soft caress of his fingers upon her skin. And he was gone.

Jennifer released a small sigh of regret. "I'm sorry, Jack," she said softly into the room. And she was sorry. Sorry for Jack, down in the garage, waiting for her and growing disillusioned. And sorrier still for herself, a prisoner in this room and in this place. She was sorry. For all of it. And at the moment, mostly for the aborted meeting she could not attend.

* * * * * * *

Jack paced the garage, alone and left to his own devices. "Come on, Jennifer," he muttered as he moved about. "It's ten o'clock. You were supposed to have come here. Where are you?"

Perhaps she was only delayed. Possibly she was on her way right now, and he should just wait a bit longer. He tried to hold on to hope. He tried to believe that this time it could be different. Better. Right.

But with each minute that ticked off, lost for all eternity, he faced the truth within his sinking heart. She wasn't coming. He wasn't sure if the thought was meant to keep him angry or hurt, but it was apparently true. She was not going to show. And what would he do next? What would he do now?