As Grace sat on the bed, brushing her golden hair, her fingers kept wandering to the mark at her throat. She smiled faintly. Deacon was taking a shower, though she could still feel some of his emotions, even bits and pieces of his thoughts. Enough to know that he was thinking of her. And he probably knew she was thinking about him. Standing, she straightened her shirt and slipped out of the bedroom. Walking silently down the hall, her mind wandered to the others. As she neared the Water Room, she heard voices and paused for a moment, listening.

"…She's been in there all fing day…"

"…What about him, Frost?"

"I don't like him," a third voice, filled with hate, a voice she recognized to be Reinhardt, "And I don't trust him."

Grace shook her head; why were they always like this? Stepping out of the hall, she leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. She almost laughed when she realized that they didn't know she was there. But it wasn't funny. It was then Priest looked up and saw her standing there. She met his gaze and he fell silent.

"Talking about me?" Grace said in a low tone.

With an almost invisible flinch, Chupa turned. His gaze flicked from her to Reinhardt and he muttered under his breath.

"Grace," Reinhardt said, turning to her, "Feeling better now?" he smirked.

She was surprised by the way he said it; as if he almost cared. She tilted her head to the side, studying him for a moment. "Yeah, actually," she said, noticing his gaze tick to her neck.

It was impossible for her to miss the jealousy in his expression and it confused her. She heard whispers of Deacon's thoughts in her mind and she turned. Reinhardt watched Grace as her gaze fell upon Deacon. Hated the way her whole face lit up when she saw Frost…She never looked at him like that…And probably never would.

"Deacon," Grace said, a smile on her face.

"Hey baby," Deacon said, his eyes on her the whole time, as if no one else in the room existed.

His hand brushed hers, brief, but Reinhardt noted the small movement.

Deacon looked over, as if just noticing the others. "I miss anything?" he asked.

He glanced at Grace, then Reinhardt, and smirked. That's how it appeared to anyone else, but in truth, Grace had been thinking about how Reinhardt seemed jealous, and Deacon had 'heard' her thoughts. Grace started to walk across the room, but a sharp pain shot through her chest and she gasped, putting a hand over her heart. And then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

"Remember me?"

She froze. It was Deacon's voice…but yet…it wasn't him. She turned, not really hearing the chorus of mutters from the others. Deacon was standing there, but when she saw his red eyes, she knew it wasn't him. Grace's eyes widened and she gasped.

"No," She said, shaking her head. "No…it isn't possible."

She backed up until she bumped into the couch. It couldn't be! It was…just…a dream. Even though the other three didn't know what was going on, they knew it wasn't good.

"La Magra," Grace whispered.

Deacon/La Magra began to walk in her direction, and Reinhardt started towards him. Without pausing, without even looking at him, Deacon/La Magra backhanded him, sending him flying halfway across the room. Priest and Chupa glanced at Grace, wanting to do something, but unsure. Grace was transfixed by the thoughts, the emotions inside her mind. At least, the ones that weren't her own… Another stab of pain lanced through her chest, and she knew La Magra was gone…for now.

There were tears in her eyes when Deacon looked at her, his expression confused. All of a sudden, she just wanted to run, to get away. She felt that if she stood still, she would explode with al the emotions boiling inside her. So she fled, leaving the room and bolting down the hall. She knew she shouldn't run; it was childish. But she couldn't help it. In the elevator, she couldn't stop the single tear from sliding down her cheek. Suddenly angry at herself and whatever higher force was screwing with her life, she punched the wall of the elevator.

Her hand tingled, but she hit the steel again…and again. In a split second she stopped, seeing the dent in the metal and the blood on her torn hand. Dimly, she could feel the pain, but she welcomed it; it reminded her that she was alive. The elevator doors opened, and she stumbled out.

Later, she didn't know how long; her sense of time was as warped as her mind was numb. How could this be happening? She'd just got him back, and now…who the hell was toying with her life? It wasn't fair!

"Grace?" She heard a feminine voice call in Czech.

"Over here," Grace responded a few moments later in the Vampire Dialect, the only language she seemed capable of uttering at the moment.

Verlaine came around another bend in the sub-basement and saw Grace in the shadows. The younger vampire sat in the corner, leaning against the wall. Her legs were drawn up almost to her chin, and her arms rested on her knees. Her face was back in the shadow, only a few wisps of her blonde hair visible.

"Are you alright?" Verlaine asked, "I heard what happened."

Grace was silent a moment, "Yeah," She replied, still in the Vampire Dialect, "Is…?" she didn't finish.

"Everyone is fine, a little…disturbed, but fine."

"What about…" Grace paused, and spoke the last word in English, "Deacon?"

"Confused as hell," Verlaine responded.

Grace almost smiled. As she slowly stood up, stepping out of the shadows, she spoke in Czech, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Verlaine said, seeming surprised.

"For running," Grace said, walking toward her, "It's childish, I know."

"It's alright," Verlaine said, putting an arm around Grace's shoulders, "No one thinks you're childish."

Grace almost looked as though she were going to cry, but she didn't. "Really?" She said as they startled walking towards the elevator.

"I wouldn't lie to you Grace," Verlaine said seriously.

Grace smiled faintly, yet was barely aware of the action. She felt a little better.