Okay… yes, it's taken six months, so I do apologize profusely for the delay. I just couldn't get motivated in all honesty, even though the storyline of this fic has been simmering around in my mind for some time now. Call it 'writers block' (or sheer laziness, on my part!).

Aaaanyway, second chapter, one more to come…. This chapter explores a very different side to Linka, one that we rarely got to see. It is also rated for violence and adult themes so read at your own risk.

I do not own Captain Planet. If someone was in the position to purchase it however, I'd be happy to lend some ideas! :-) lol

After the Fall

Chapter Two

A trio of middle-aged, slightly inebriated women sauntered past the window, waving to Linka through the frosty glass. She smiled back, giving them a half-hearted wave as they stumbled from her peripheral vision. Linka turned slightly, peering through the glass at the revelers inside, all cheerfully oblivious to her predicament.

Comprised mostly of powerful dignitaries, political constituents, wealthy supporters and sponsors of Grants father's political campaign, they were a rather rambunctious group of 'party animals'. Linka had always felt distinctly out of place amongst this now all-too-familiar throng of faces, with the average age of the guests approaching 50 and beyond.

The room cleared, leaving only her pale reflection staring back. Linka blinked, before adjusting her strapless black dress more securely around her chest. She looked down, playing with the band of silver Swarovski crystals that delicately edged their way underneath her bust line. Her blonde hair was glossy and coiffed, gathered in a loose band to the side, and trailing in soft curls over her right shoulder. Her nails were manicured; having had her French tips applied that same morning. Small black heels and a silver clutch bag complimented the outfit, although the bag had clearly bore the brunt of her tense disposition for much of the night: fingernail marks were embedded within the fabric and quite visible upon close inspection.

She sighed, aware that Grant's family would start wondering where she was…most certainly not expecting her to be standing on the front verandah of their palatial home in sub-zero temperatures, wishing she were a million miles from here. The strong glare of headlights suddenly diverted her attention and she turned, squinting with detached curiosity as a black stretch limo rolled past her, a parking usher rapidly approaching the driver side window and speaking in muted tones.

The limo remained where it was and so Linka turned back towards the window, leaning against the cement rendered walls and contemplating the events of the last few weeks

Grant's hulking form suddenly strode past the window and Linka darted back, away from his view. She watched as he climbed the reception-room stairs, two at a time, evidently searching for her. With that, she grabbed her coat and bag and slipped quietly inside the house again, her black heels taking her in the direction of the dining room where the guests were beginning to seat themselves.

She entered, smiling shyly at the beaming faces that turned in her direction as she passed the back tables, her heart thumping louder than ever. Grant's father waved, beckoning her over to the main table, decked out with expensive silverware, pristine wine goblets and a massive flower arrangement obscuring much of the view of the room. She took her seat beside him, nodding in the direction of Grant's mother (who usually had the tendency to go a little overboard on red wine… and tonight was evidently no exception).

"Where were you?"

The voice startled her and she turned, slightly breathless as Grant sat down and grabbed her wrist under the table, squeezing hard.

She prized his hand off and looked away, her cheeks burning in anger.

"I was in the bathroom," she replied softly, leaning back in her chair as the first meal was placed on the table in front of her.

"Whatever," Grant said dismissively, ordering another beer for himself from the waiter and staring sullenly into the crowd.

Linka sighed again. "I do not have to be here, you know. You asked me to come, so I am doing you a favor," she said softly, glancing down at her hands folded primly within her lap. "The least you could do is to be civil towards me."

Grant shrugged, gulping down half of his beer in one go as he glared at the bottle with mounting anger.

"Whatever."

The rest of the night was pretty much a collective blur for the forlorn Russian woman. At some point, Grant's father had begun making his thank you speech but much of it was lost on Linka, as she sat idly in her seat, unraveling the cotton of the white fabric napkins with her nails.

She had been living this lie since dinner at Thanksgiving. Linka had smiled sweetly for the New York Times' cameras, politely answered questions posed by the journalists, giggled fetchingly at the usual 'engagement' innuendo and partaken in a particularly hideous family feast… all of whom were none the wiser about their break-up.

It had been such a mistake to agree to the charade. Linka wasn't sure whether she could put up with Grant's treatment of her for much longer: the cutting comments, the pointed silences, and the fact that he had become physical with her twice now within the space of two weeks… nothing major, but grabbing her arm hard enough that it left marks upon her skin wasn't exactly what she had expected for 'doing him a favor'. The fact that she was here on Christmas Eve did nothing to sweeten the deal.

Linka tilted her head up as she heard her name mentioned by the man standing on the other side of her, microphone still in hand.

"… and my sincere thanks must also go out to my son Grant and his beautiful girlfriend, Linka. Sweetheart, if I were 20 years younger and had a full head of hair, you'd be in big trouble…"

He got no further. The room lit up with wolf-whistles and raucous whooping, causing Linka to blush deep red with embarrassment.

"Yes, okay," he continued, trying to make himself heard over the din, many oblivious to Linka's intense discomfort as she slid further down into her chair to avoid the 100 or so pairs of eyes leering in her direction. "Okay… Grant's a lucky man, we are all aware of this. So…"

He stopped for a moment, fumbling inside his jacket pocket for what evidently turned out to be a small white envelope. He grinned in Grant's direction, before continuing.

"So in appreciation of Grant's tireless efforts with the campaign, Margaret and I have decided to send our two lovebirds away to New York City for a few days of R & R…"

Clunk.

The wine glass that Linka had picked up made a dramatic return to the table. She jumped, mopping up the liquid which had spilt on the tablecloth using her shredded napkin, glancing up at regular, panicky intervals as she took in more of the details.

Limo to the airport… The Plaza…three nights… chauffeur… did Grant know about this?

She snuck a peek in Grant's direction, observing the slightly comical look of surprise on his chiseled features. He seemed genuinely shocked at the announcement.

Wheeler. Wheeler will be in New York.

Her heart thudded with the realization. Was it karma? Perhaps a simple twist of fate that was pulling her towards his home-town, or was some other force responsible for this unexpected detour. She sat back, a small smile playing upon her pretty features as she considered the possibilities.

"Limo leaves in 15 minutes, kids! Better grab your stuff!"

Grant slunk off immediately without waiting for her, his hands buried deep within his pockets, shoulders hunched. She mouthed a silent thank you to Grant's parents and exited the room, her mind full of dizzying possibilities as she ascended the stairs to change into a pair of indigo jeans, a black top and cream trench coat. Linka quickly grabbed her overnight bag and toiletries and dashed back downstairs.

Closing the front door behind her, Linka stepped out onto the gravel driveway and towards the waiting limousine. She climbed inside, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. She was even too preoccupied too concern herself with Grant's obvious annoyance… the eye-rolling and muttering emanating from the man beside her didn't penetrate Linka's cautious optimism for the coming weekend.

I will have no expectations. I need to set things right again. I just need to know that he was content with the way things were left between us.

The car rolled away quietly and they began the short journey towards the airport, the only noise punctuating the silent trip being a champagne bottle-cork popping. Grant drunk down half of the champagne directly from the bottle, staring directly at Linka with a smirk as he re-corked the bottle and placed the unfinished portion back into the small bar fridge. He folded his arms in his lap, as if challenging her to complain. Linka furnished him with a dazzling smile, causing Grant's composure to falter somewhat. Eye contact now broken, Grant went back to staring sullenly out the window, leaving the Russian to contemplate what her next move would be once they had arrived in New York.

The hotel room was extravagant and plush, painted and furnished in rich crimson and white tones. High, vaulted ceilings, a bay window, fireplace and a huge bathroom with spa complimented the spacious suite, although these additions were no match for the ornate, hand-carved four poster bed, which was obviously the centerpiece. All of these details were lost on Linka, who had approached the doorway, but went no further, watching the porter carry her small travel-bag inside from her vantage point under the door frame. Grant tipped the porter 20 dollars, sending him on his way with a dismissive nod.

The porter smiled at Linka as she moved aside to let him pass, however she remained where she was, suddenly a little apprehensive about entering the room

"Get out." Barely audible, Grant glared at Linka from the edge of the bed. "Get the hell out, before…." He abruptly stopped, his face turning redder by the minute.

Linka's mouth dropped open at the unspoken threat evident in his voice. She swallowed nervously, before skirting along the side wall towards her luggage, sitting on a shelf beside the plasma television set.

"All right," she said softly, reaching down quickly and grasping the handles of her bag firmly, just as Grant suddenly stood and covered the space between them in 2 long strides. She stood her ground as he bore down on her, cold fury radiating from him in waves.

"You'll be replaced within the next hour… you do realize that," he said, his nose barely an inch from her own. Linka's heart was now thumping wildly within her chest, his close proximity causing her to catch her breath.

"Then the sooner I leave, the better," she replied uneasily, although he didn't back off. On the contrary, he slammed his hands against the wall, trapping her between them. She could smell the two bottles of champagne he had downed in the limo: his breath reeked of alcohol. She turned her face away, but it didn't help much.

"You've made a friggin' fool of me," he said, his voice getting louder now, more unsteady. "You know that?"

"Just let me leave then, Grant."

He chuckled then. "Got somewhere better to be?"

She bit her lip but said nothing, in no way ready to tell him where she would be heading. "Nyet… I have honoured my promise. Just let me leave."

He snorted, but let go of her. "You're pathetic, you know that? So 'high and mighty', but you have nothing, Linka. No real friends, no family left. Who the hell else is going to want you?"

She pursed her lips but said nothing, moving quickly towards the door, blood pumping loudly in her ears. She reached the thresh-hold but Grant got their first, slamming the door within inches of her outstretched fingers. He made a grab for her, but she pushed him away, reaching for the door handle again.

"Nyet!" she cried as he grabbed her by the upper arm and dug his fingers into her skin, turning her around to face him again and slamming her against the door. The back of her head made contact and she cried out in pain.

"Did you hear me, princess? You're nothing! I only used you to see what I could get out of you… WHICH TURNED OUT TO BE VERY LITTLE, SWEETHEART!" He was shouting now, his slurred voice reverberating off the walls.

Linka reached again for the door handle, frantically pushing him away with one hand and trying to pull the door open with the other. Her success was short-lived, however as Grant pushed against her using his full body weight and she toppled forward, watching with dismay as the door slammed shut for the second time. Linka whimpered with frustration, then a flare of agony shot through her skull as he slammed into her once again. This time the wooden door made contact with her right temple with a resounding crack. Stars burst through her vision and she momentarily dropped her arms, too stunned by the impact to fight back.

Taking advantage of this, Grant began dragging her back towards the center of the room by her arm, kicking her travel bag away in anger. With a cry of desperation, Linka retaliated. She clamped the fingers of her free hand into a fist and swung around blindly, her knuckles making contact with Grant's chin. His grip loosened for a moment and she countered by launching her knee into his stomach.

Without looking back, she flung the door open and fled, Grant's bellowing ringing in her ears and her travel bag still remaining where Grant had kicked it: beside the bay-window. She ran to the elevator and pressed the down button, dimly aware now that she hadn't even tried to use her ring. She turned around and pointed it in the direction she had just come, half expecting Grant to appear around the corner like some monster from a horror movie.

But he didn't. She stood breathlessly, slumped against the wall until the elevator doors opened. She half-stepped, half-fell into the lift and watched anxiously until the doors closed, feeling the tremors begin to work their way through her body and trying desperately to control them. At ground level, Linka lurched forward and stumbled out, oblivious to the stares of the employees working the reception desk (one of whom would call security as, unbeknownst to Linka at this point, she was disheveled, deathly pale and bleeding slightly from the temple).

She walked quickly towards the first cab in the rank outside the hotel, stepping into the back seat. Linka closed her eyed as the cab pulled away from the curb, aware of the dull throb in her temple. She touched her fingers to the spot and winced, noticing the blood that came away on her fingers. She leaned back into the seat, unaware that the driver was speaking to her.

"Sorry?" she said, trying to cover the wound and resulting lump that was forming with her hair.

"Where can I take ya' tonight, sweetheart?"

Linka stared ahead, utterly nonplussed. The headlights outside the car windows began to blur as the tears started coming freely now. She hung her head, sobbing quietly as the realization hit her: she had fled the hotel and left her purse and cell phone behind, along with the rest of her possessions. Linka had no idea where she was going, or how she was even going to pay to get there.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve, and then quietly explained her situation to the driver.

That's it for now! Read and review, I always appreciate it… I'll try to update soon :-) Mwah.