Marlena believed he meant every word of it... this was a very dangerous volatile man, unlike any other she'd known and yet there was something behind his steely blue eyes, a sense of vulnerability well hidden. Yes, this was a man who had been hurt, deeply. And strange as it seemed amidst the brutally masculine presence he projected, Marlena sensed intuitively that the injured man was afraid of something he couldn't name. 'He must have learned to cover it with anger and violence...'

Preparing to stand up, glancing down at the man who called himself John Stevens, she nearly cursed her own compassionate tendencies, 'Oh, stop it Marlena....not everyone is a wounded soul who needs your support and understanding. He could be just like Stefano.... evil to the core with the ability to be charming when he wants something.... Be smart here.... just get up and leave him... you did what you could. Tell the hotel security....the police will come and then you'll be safe. Walk away Marlena.... for once in your life....just walk away...'

Pausing for a moment, Marlena pondered the nagging question.... 'Why would he trust her not to turn him in while he succumbed to the pain and fatigue? Certainly the reason he showed up at her door in the first place was that he'd remembered she was a doctor, and searched her out since she'd helped him before... But was it more than that... had he been able to sense something in her, some quality she didn't recognize in herself? Or was it simply that he was on the run from the authorities and so badly injured that he had no where else to turn?

Still contemplating her decision, she recalled their brief but memorable encounter on the Champ Elysees the other day, his intense headache... how it knocked him to his knees...how he shrugged it off so casually, even as she saw in his blue eyes that he was concerned about it too. She recalled the sense of connection that was impossible to explain with mere words, as if two souls touched for a moment.... neither of them wanting that moment to end but unable to stop time from marching forward, returning them to their separate lives, their separate worlds......

~~~~~~~

Her hand was on his shoulders and then his aching head..... the gentleness of her touch was like nothing he had ever known... the pain slowly began to fade.....his eyes opened and he peered uncertainly into the face of an angel.. her golden hair falling down around her almost like a halo... her glowing compassionate eyes.... her sweet warm smile....

She was jarred out of her reverie by the soft sounds of his moaning. Startled, she rushed instinctively to his side, to check her patient, she told herself. He was murmuring.... " No, don't go.... stay.... please stay.. I need you.... I need you.." he said in a ragged, desperate whisper. Was he talking to her? Was he even aware of her?' she wondered in the privacy of her thoughts.

Concerned, she placed a cautious hand on his ruggedly handsome, whiskered face... and gasped at the heat it radiated. He was burning up.... Wasting no time, she raced to the bathroom, soaked a washcloth with cold water, and hurried back to drape it across his fiery hot forehead. There had to be an infection setting in... Carefully, she checked her handiwork.... drawing back the sheet, trying not to hurt him unnecessarily. Upon closer examination, she could see no external evidence of an infection in the wound itself, just the angry reddish tissue that simultaneously indicated a sign of healing and the damage done when his body was pierced by a bullet. How she hated guns.... wicked instruments of death.... she silently cursed their manufacturers as she carefully covered him up again.

'Must be systemic.... or maybe he's bleeding internally... ' Frantically, she searched her bag.... having recalled that she'd recently obtained a prescription of a moderately potent oral antibiotic for herself, because of a slightly resistant yeast infection which kept recurring. Had she brought it along as planned? She sighed quietly when her right hand found the small bottle of pills.

"Okay, John.... you're going to have to swallow this," she said to her essentially unconscious patient... "Come on...." she urged, struggling to prop him up with pillows... He moaned at the jarring movement. "Oh...can't.."

God he was heavy... all muscle. Despite her usual clinical detachment, she couldn't help but notice the lean tautness of his upper body. Shirtless, he was much like one of those ancient sculptures of the Greek gods, his arms massive, his chest broad, his belly firmly rippled. This man was in peak physical condition... almost like a soldier, but in whose army? Shaking her head to clear it of suddenly vivid images of this overtly sexy man firing an automatic weapon, she yelled at herself..... 'Focus Marlena.....help him...' she admonished.

At last, she was able to get him in a relatively upright position so she could slip the pill onto his tongue, then managed to get a sip or two of water in his mouth. Pressing his lips together and then holding his mouth closed with one hand, she massaged his throat, hoping to engage the swallowing mechanism. Doctor Evans breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the gulping sound, signifying that the pill had gone down. "Whew...." she said as she exhaled wearily.

'Now what, Marlena... just what are you going to do?' she asked herself as she sat back in the chair to watch him while he settled down into a deeper level of slumber, hoping the antibiotic would have its proper effect. Everything she knew told her to call the police and report what he had done.... forcing his way into her hotel room, holding her at gunpoint and demanding she take care of his wound.

All she had to do was leave the room, make her way to the elevator and get down to the lobby. Besides that, the man was in trouble, near delirium, in need of more care than she could give. There should be no question about her course of action; she should report him, and then he could get proper treatment.

And probably land in prison.... for whatever crimes he must have committed. She could only imagine what he might have done that ended in gunfire. Had he robbed someone, been involved in some other illegal activity and been caught in the act? Could he have killed someone? What? she wondered.... beginning to shiver at the thought of being on the receiving end of his apparent capacity for violence.

She took a silent step toward the door.... It was so simple. Walk out that door and she was free of him. Again, it was the sound of his voice that stopped her... "No.... can't die... can't let this happen...no.. no.... " She couldn't make out every word he uttered, but it was fairly clear that whatever had prompted him to call out signified a profound spirit wound. He sounded so...sad, so desolate.

Standing a few feet across the room, transfixed by the sheer physical beauty of the man and the power of his presence, contrasting with an oddly endearing vulnerability in such moments, another memory from her harrowing evening flashed in her mind. Marlena shuddered at the recollection of the wildness she'd seen in his eyes at one point. He was fighting to stay awake and alert and he waved the gun at her, telling her he was still in control. It was not an idle threat he made. She sensed this man never made idle threats. He was deadly serious. John Stevens was intimately familiar with the use of firearms, and would do whatever was necessary to ensure his survival; that much was a given.

But what of the hint of sweet shyness she had seen in him when they stood face to face on the Boulevard? That unspoken desire to live another life? Doctor Marlena Evans Brady determined that there were two distinct sides to this mystery man, two sides that were at war within.....

And in that moment she realized that the same could be said of herself. One part of her knew that she should run from him, as fast and as far away as possible. Nevertheless, as hard as Marlena fought it and strove to make herself go..... there was some undeniable, indescribable force inside of her that compelled her to stay with the wounded man and find out which side would be the victor. And as much as she feared him and what he might do to her, she wanted to learn the source of the pain behind his striking blue eyes... the pain she just heard in his tormented cries...

Even as she stopped and turned around, having made her final decision, Marlena knew that it would be her undoing....

'God help me, I don't know what I'm doing here,' she whispered under her breath as she sat by his side once more, sensing intuitively that she should take his hand in hers. It was a large strong hand, one accustomed to fighting, she guessed from studying the calluses on his knuckles. She smiled as she observed him, the tension she'd seen seconds earlier beginning to ease, and concluded that his hand hadn't often been held in tenderness.... that he hadn't often been in the company of someone who cared for him and wanted nothing in return.....

Maybe it was time for all that to change....

'And maybe you've read too many romance novels, Marlena...' said the voice of reason inside her weary head. It was the last coherent thought before her tired eyelids went shut. Lying down on the bed for what was supposed to be only a moment, she soon found herself in that hazy place between the state of wakefulness and the land of dreams....