So, this went in entirely different direction than when I first started. I was going to go majorly dark but decided to change it up last minute. There are mentions of rape and threatening, just a warning. I have no idea if anyone will even like this but I wrote it and decided to post it anyway. Enjoy… or not. :)

He inhaled with a slow smile. "Jane. Now there's a name I know well. Oh, she's not dead. There are things far worse than death, wouldn't you agree?"

2017, 1 year after HG left in the time machine

Jane unlocked the door to her apartment and tossed the keys onto a white porcelain dish on a table near the entrance. It was dark inside but she wasn't afraid. After her near death experiences with HG and John Stevenson, normal life seemed mundane.

Not for the first time she wondered what he was doing. How he was doing? Had he met his future wife yet?

"Idiot," she muttered. "Of course he has. He's already been dead for seventy years." That brought a pang to her heart and she made a beeline for the fridge, for the cold beer that she'd taken to keeping on hand. She opened the door and took a cold one out, popping the top and drinking deeply.

"Taken up drinking, have we?"

She yelped and dropped her bottle on the floor. Her heart pounded in her chest as she moved directly toward the sound of the voice. No, it can't be, she told herself. John's dead. He's dead.

"I'm most certainly not dead, if that's what you're thinking." A tall broad-shoulder man stepped out from the shadows and showed his face.

"John," she whispered, going numb from shock.

He smirked and moved closer. "Jane. It's good to see you."

"How?" was all she could ask when she found her voice. "You were dead. They took your body."

He smiled briefly. "You forget, Jane, I'm unique. The details are boring but suffice it to say that I am very much alive."

"What do you want? HG is gone." She backed away slowly as he kept walking toward the kitchen. Toward her.

"Yes, I know. I'm glad. Now I have you all to myself." He smiled again but this time it didn't reach his eyes.

She calculated how long it would take her to reach her front door, unlock it, and run for help. Could she make it past him?

"You can try, but you won't make it."

Panic was starting to push through her dulled senses. "What do you want?" she repeated, looking around for anything she could use to defend herself.

"I thought I made that clear. I want you."

She frowned. "What?" Then understanding dawned. "You want to kill me. Because I let the FBI take you. For some sick revenge on HG."

John's dark eyes flashed in the dim lighting of her kitchen. "You never appreciated the restraint I showed you. The effort I put in to helping you. Never. No, Jane, I'm not going to kill you, but you are right about one thing. I am here for revenge. But it has nothing to do with HG."

Confusion made her disoriented momentarily, enough to allow one of John's men to sneak up behind her and jab a needle into the side of her neck.

She gasped in pain and looked at John, betrayed and hurt, before everything went dark.

When she woke up, she was on a double bed in an otherwise empty room. There were no windows, no furniture, nothing.

She stood up on wobbly legs and almost fainted from the rush to her head. Pushing off from the bedframe, she made her way to the door. Of course, it was locked and she had no strength to beat on it.

"Please," she whispered faintly, groping her way back to the bed and knowing no one could hear her.

But then someone did because the door opened. John walked in and then shut it behind him, locking it effectively.

"Where am I?" she asked, forcing her voice to sound stronger. She resisted the urge to lie down on her side to relieve the nausea.

"You're in a house on my property."

"What am I doing here?"

John came to stand right in front of her and then bent down so that he was eye level. "You're here because I wish it. Because I now hold your life in my hands." He reached out to brush her hair behind her ear and she ducked away. He grabbed the back of her head hard, yanking her to him. "I'd play nice, if I were you."

"If you're not going to kill me, what are you going to do? Keep me here forever?"

He chuckled and leaned forward. She moved back but he didn't stop. When she felt herself cornered by him and the bed, she half rolled to get away but he easily pinned her down to the mattress and held her still. "For as long as I can control myself anyway."

Deliberately, he moved his pelvis down and against her lower body, grinning when her expression turned to shock. She went very still, never taking her eyes off his.

"I think you understand?" he asked.

"No, why? What? Why?" She stammered out her responses. He couldn't be talking about what she thought he was, could he? "You hate me. I was there when you died."

He nodded slowly. "Yes, I do hate you. I want to hurt you like you hurt me. When we're together, I want you to think of HG and compare me to him. Compare his soft caresses to my brutal grip. Think of how nice and boring it was with him. How much he loved you. And what he left you to. A monster, Jane."

She choked on her tears. "How did I hurt you? How could I?"

He inhaled deeply and lowered his head to taste the salty wetness on her cheeks. His lips pressed ever so gently against her skin and then he licked the taste away. She was his now. Forever.

With a hard grip, he dug his fingers into her face. Sparing her one last long look, he shoved down the brief moment of guilt, and kissed her hard on the mouth. She struggled against him but in her weakened state it was no use.

The old familiar darkness reared its head, howling in delight. There was no waiting. It wouldn't let him. Take her now, now, now, now, it chanted inside his head.

John broke off the kiss and sat back on her upper thighs, straddling her. There was no feeling in his eyes, no warmth on his face. Whatever complex relationship they'd had in the past, it was not enough to save her now.

"Is it… is it because I chose HG over you?" she whispered.

He stopped all movements with an abrupt pause. His face went blank. "I beg your pardon?"

She merely looked at him, sudden realization washing over her. Did he… had he-loved her? Or whatever approximation equated to love in his mind? Her mind whirled, sifting through every memory she had of him. Going over every last detail until she arrived at one startling conclusion- Yes.

Or at least, she was pretty sure he'd felt something akin to love. Maybe lust? A kind of respect?

But whatever he'd felt for her, was it enough to save her now? Looking up at his surprised expression, she wasn't sure, but at least it wasn't the flat black of his eyes before.

"Are you doing this because I chose to go back to HG, even after what he did to you on Monroe's island? After he lied to me about it?" She made sure to keep her voice soft and steady.

He sneered. "I must admit, your actions slightly irritated me. After all, had it been me, I wager I would never have heard the end of it. John, how could you?" he mimicked. "John, you didn't have to kill him! John, you lied to me!" He leaned down over her, bracing his weight on his hands on either side of face. "It makes me sick."

"I hurt your feelings," she surmised.

He furrowed his brow, and then made a face. "I don't have feelings. At least, not the kind you're trying to insinuate."

Part of her figured that was true. Had he ever loved anything in his entire life?

"Maybe not," she answered. "But the fact remains that I hurt you in some way and you're lashing out now. Trying to hurt me too."

"I simply want to show you how wrong you were to go against me. If you desire to make up some fairytale in your mind about the reasons why, then be my guest. It won't change your fate."

He was so angry, she thought, staring up at him. How can I calm him down enough to get myself out of this situation?

Taking a deep breath, she spoke. "You're right. I never acknowledged all the good you did, which was wrong of me. I was … afraid."

"Afraid? Of what?" He looked puzzled and faintly suspicious.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment but it had to be said. And she had to be honest or he would know and kill her for sure. Or worse. "When I first-encountered you, I hated you. I was terrified you were going to kill me and that girl you'd taken. You were the bad guy and HG was the good guy. It was easy to choose sides." She thought back to the first moment she realized maybe he wasn't pure evil. "But you didn't kill me. More importantly, you didn't kill her. I begged you not to and you didn't. You'll never know what that meant to me."

John's face bore a host of emotions at her admission. Anger, vindication, sadness, and spark of something akin to hope. "And you'll never know how much that one act of mercy cost me. It was painful, Jane. Like being clawed apart from the inside. But did you care? Did HG? No. You treated me with contempt."

"I know," she said quickly. "I know that now, but at the time I was confused."

He leaned closer. "I helped you save HG in the 1914 and for my reward I was chained to a wall in a room."

She needed to be honest or he would never believe her. "I'm not sorry about that," she said quickly, "but I am sorry for the things I said to you the night Brooke came. You were trying to save my life-you did save my life-and I wasn't grateful. Over and over. I told you you could change and then refused to acknowledge when you did."

"And why is that, Jane? What is the point of all this?" As much as he loved hearing about all her wrongs and all his rights, he was impatient to begin his work. Except some of the fire had died out now. His heart wasn't as in to hurting Jane as before. Dammit it all.

"The point is that I was wrong and I'm sorry."

"I appreciate your honesty, Jane, and I am sure that you are sorry. Now. When it's come to this. But timing matters."

"I've spent the last year missing you," she said quickly.

He paused again. "Excuse me?"

"HG left me. With him, I always had a moral code. The timeline had to be protected, lives had to be saved, you had to be stopped and returned to 1893. There was always something. But then I was alone and all I could think was ... John wouldn't have left." Without even knowing how she dared, she ever so slowly slid one hand around John's wrist up by her head. He tensed and made to pull away but she tightened her grip, drawing his attention. "You would never have left the woman you loved under any circumstances. Not even to save the fabric of time. I wanted that," she admitted, finally.

"What are you saying, Jane," he snarled. "I'm growing tired of listening to the sound of your voice." That wasn't entirely true, a tiny voice echoed inside him.

Tears sparkled in her eyes and she knew what she had to do. What she had to say. "I'm saying I wished that I had you instead of him!" she burst out, half-angry, half- embarrassed. She hoped the anger masked the huge lie she had just told. Would he be able to tell?

His eyes widened in shock. A burst of something he rather liked feeling exploded in his chest at her admission. His head swirled, almost dizzy from the sudden change. And then there was Jane, rubbing small circles on the back of his left hand. Deliciously tantalizing him. How could what she was saying be true? "No, that's not right. You think I'm a monster."

"I don't," she whispered. She wanted to say more, but didn't want to overdo it. "You've done some monstrous things, yes, but you've also done some good things. Things I will be eternally grateful for."

Eternally grateful.

No! She's lying to save herself. She thinks you won't hurt her if she praises you and fills your head with empty words.

Jane, wouldn't lie to him, would she?

You just threatened to rape her, you imbecile. Of course she would. She only wants to save herself. You can't trust her. She'll be the end of you.

But before he could gather his thoughts, she slid her hand up his arm and around his neck, tugging him down, down, down.

"Kiss me," she whispered. "I'll prove it to you."

And then he was somehow kissing her again, only this time it was different. He was drowning and at her mercy. Her lips were soft and inviting and she wanted him. Waves of emotion crashed over and around him, beating him down into submission. The darkness howled inside him a final time and then was stamped out under the onslaught.

He submitted to her, finally. To her mouth and lips and tongue. Oh, her delicious tongue that was right now slowly licking against his own, causing a ball of white hot lust to slam straight down in his lower belly. He groaned helplessly under her ministrations. One hand tangled in his dark hair while the other caressed the side of his face, pulling him deeper. He couldn't get enough.

And then very suddenly yet still distant, a thought crept in. He was vulnerable. She could plunge a knife into his back and never see it coming, figuratively. And literally, actually. He suddenly realized what she had been doing all along and yanked his head back and away from her. Before she could even protest, he'd whipped the large knife he'd been storing in his waistband out and held it to her neck.

"Is this what you wanted, Jane?" he asked breathlessly, traces of lust still evident in his tone.

Jane was confused. "What?" They were entwined intimately, legs tangled in one another's, and Jane's breasts pressed tight against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat. He was suddenly more human than he'd ever been to her before.

"I know what you were trying to do and you gave a commendable performance, but it sadly fell short." He toyed with a thin gold chain around her neck he hadn't noticed before. It hung around the point of his blade.

"Performance?" she breathed. "What performance?"

His patience snapped suddenly and the point of the knife dug into her throat. "I would quit while you're ahead. What did you expect would happen with your little charade?"

She swallowed, stupidly hurt by his accusation. Idiot, she told herself. It was a charade. At least, it was supposed to be. She took his hand and tried to calm him, but the moment was over and he was having none of it. None of her.

Abruptly, he pushed off of her and stowed the blade. "Well, although it fell short, I suppose your little act did buy you some time. I have work to do."

He'd almost reached the door, hand on handle, when Jane found her voice.

"It wasn't an act."

He paused. She wondered what was going through his head. Then he turned the knob and left. She heard the clicking sound of a lock setting in place and knew that exit wasn't an option for escape.

She ran a hand through her hair and exhaled a breath. She barely escaped whatever hell he'd planned for her by the skin of her teeth. How the hell was she going to get away from him next time?