[I'll ask now, for some time to dig my way into the character's heads. But I originally got this idea from when I watched one of the deleted scenes on the 2007 DVD. John got emotional when Grace touched his hand, laying silently beside her. No copyright intended. All characters belong to that of The Hitcher movie.]

CHAPTER 1

Grace could feel herself slipping into a peaceful dream in the cold dark motel room. Her exhaustion was eating away at her, and nothing could bring her back the world of the living. Not right now. Colours begun to swirl behind her closed eyelids as fantasy took over. The troubles, the danger, everything which she had been running from for the last two days meant nothing. Her heartbeat was steadied, only by the need to lose herself. Hugging the sheets tighter against her body, she shifted over to the other side and melted into the cold pillow, where she still wasn't aware of Jim's absence.
He had left the motel room a good couple of hours ago to use the payphone whilst Grace had slept soundlessly beside him. Under the belief, that if he were to wake her, she wouldn't want to rest again, he had taken the pistol and braved the outdoors.
"I'll be back soon." He whispered into her hair before walking over to the door and sticking his head out to assess the surrounding area for any sight of John Ryder. The Hitcher they had picked up and had never been rid of him since then, with his endless murderous chase following on their tails.
They had both presumed his motive was sick. Only a game in which to frame the young couple for countless murders and bloodbaths to the authority. Every witness of their innocence, he kept slaughtering. "Where are you, you son of a bitch.." Jim muttered to himself, more or less one hundred percent sure John had followed them and was sitting in the dark. He thanked the lord, the payphone was stood in the lightest area, overlooked by the other rooms and their occupants. If only he could get to it without the front desk seeing him. They would sure be suspicious to see another occupant walking out of a room that is supposed to be unoccupied. He waited until the man seated at the desk wandered into the back room with a yawn and legged it across the space separating him from the phone.
John watched from the darkness of his car. His fingers wrapped around the leather on the steering wheel, eyes like a hawk watching its prey. They slipped across to the front desk, seeing the reason Jim had moved so briskly. He would make sure Jim never made that phone call..
"Did you think you could outrun me, you little fucker?" A voice snarled in his ear.
The rope biting into his throat, almost made him vomit with shock. He hadn't expected John to have sprung out so silently and attack him. Of course, who was he to suspect anything. When he was dealing with a serial killer, there were no suspicions. He reached desperately for the phone cord, thinking he could return the attack and strangle him of breath too. But John whipped him from it, squeezing the rope and Jim tighter against his hip. Blood oozed from Jim's neck as his eyes begun to bulge from the struggle about to end. John looked down, admiring with a lick of his teeth, the surrendering glint in his victim's eyes just as he lost consciousness. He let Jim fall to the ground, releasing one end of the rope with a tired sigh.
"One down, one to go." He looked towards the room, 12, where he had emerged from and smiled sickly. The movement from the front desk drew his attention before he could move, as the male receptionist returned to his desk, cramming his mouth with a cereal bar.
Grace felt the cool hand stroke down her thigh, rough and sensual. She moaned softly, allowing the touch to slowly guide her awake. "I missed you." She stretched her body, pointing her toes as the hand tightened at the sound of her voice. Jim must have been feeling better ,for seeking this kind of comfort.
But why was this single movement driving her crazy with desire. It was like the feverish missing of their love in the past couple of days was moulding into this moment beginning. "Your hands are freezing." She rested her own hand upon the one on the top of her thigh and entwined her fingers.
John's breath hitched at the warm touch. No-one had touched him so gently. At least not since his own mother at the age of ten. He clamped his eyes shut, worried she was going to roll over and spoil the moment with an earth shattering blink of a tired eye. "Don't stop." She sighed, guiding his hand more higher, over her stomach and up to her naked breasts. This was more than what he had expected when he laid next to her a few minutes ago. But he wasn't complaining. He would have fun with her, before he had to slit her throat and ruin the duvet covers. His fingers prodded, rubbed and massaged round her nipple, feeling it grow harder at the stimulate. She let out another moan and attempted to roll in order to adorn him with sweet kisses, but his other hand shot up from under the quilts and pressed against the small of her back, keeping her faced away from him. "What-Hey!" She yelped, the freezing palm, making her arch away from him. "Jesus, Jim!" She certainly wasn't expecting that. And somehow that touch felt alien and odd, sending goose-bumps jolting through her body. She opened her mouth to scream but no voice came out. It couldn't, as the other hand was clasped round her entire jaw, warm skin against her breath, keeping the noise in.
"Don't fucking move." He growled in her ear.
No..
The demon eyes of John Ryder looked hungrily down at her in the semi-dark, when he spun her round beneath him. His lips were pulled back into a wry smile. It looked hot on him.. What! No!
She wrestled him off, shoving him as hard as she could to break free from his touch. The pistol!
She looked at the bedside table and saw it was gone. Damn.

[TBC]

[Please tell me what you think. Should I continue..? x]