Author's Notes: Soooo,this wouldn't have been written hadn't it been for the persistent (lovely!) Kaikamahine Mai Hawai'i and her 'My Happy Ending'. She really left us hanging there, just giving us hints of an intriguing backstory, challenging me and Bunnies-Made-Me-Do-It to take up the glove and write some parts of what she didn't…
I took up these lines: "They had seen a meteor shower out in a little town in Arizona. A trip past Graceland added a pair of rhinestone Elvis shades to Jackson's collection of sunglasses. A need to change their appearance turned Lisa into a blonde with a layered bob, which Jackson found sexy as hell. A night without electricity in a seaside hotel caused their lips to meet for the first time, although completely by accident."
They spurred my imagination and took me on a trip I hadn't expected, across the whole south-west of the US… Damn! I'm tired now from all the travelling! I have left small hints of other parts of the backstory in my piece, to take up and expandFirst Noelle, and Kaikamahine… tag, you're it!
The rest of you lovely readers, I hope you'll sit back and enjoy a journey through the southern states with our favorite couple. It's a series of one-shots taking place while Lisa and Jackson are on the run.
/Nic.
And, OH, dang! I STILL don't own Jackson and Lisa, even though I'm beginning to think that after two years of writing them(!) I've given their characters more thought than their initial creators…
A Beginning In a Way
On Meteors and Rooftops
"Do you ever feel as if your life is incomplete?"
He turned to her, frowning as he kept massaging his hand that had slipped on the climb up there. "I think I sprained my wrist."
Her gaze was distant at first as she looked at him, then she regarded his hand and her vaguely vacant eyes came back to herself, to their current physical location; the rooftop. "Oh, come on, you wimp. You don't sprain a wrist!"
"You can too!" he countered, slightly hurt.
Lisa, ever the athlete, had climbed up along the dusty, old ladder, some of the steps missing, all the way up to the top and then swung her legs over the edge and disappeared. Jackson had remained rooted on the ground, anxiously watching her toned body climb higher and higher. She'd felt his worried gaze and had wanted to giggle. She always felt free and alive when she performed past her abilities, pushing herself over the limit. It had made laughter bubble in her throat from giddiness when she crawled along the rusty surface probably thirty feet above ground, and then she had found a spot on the rather steep roof, wedging herself between some pipes, panting and grinning. Jackson had soon joined her, never one to back away from a challenge, but had slipped and hurt his wrist in the process.
They had watched the sun set. The day had been unbearably hot; a Tuesday in June somewhere near a little ghost of a town called Woodruff in Arizona. Now, as the air cooled off, the roof still radiated the pooled heat, warming their tired bodies. Peace surrounded them, an unexpected, but most welcome change from the never ending battles, the grandest of them yesterday when HE had found himself with his large knife to her slender throat, his vision clouded with anger, and SHE had found herself with HIS gun to HIS temple, trembling, furious, but determined to live.
Somewhere in the grass below, the crickets chirped, happily unaware of the exhausted couple high above them.
Jackson sighed. "What do you mean?"
"Mean what?" Lisa asked, again lost in thoughts.
"About life being incomplete?"
"Oh, yeah." She turned to him fully again. "Did you ever stop to think about what you were doing? Like… you know, what the meaning of it all is… and all…" She stopped talking, swallowing, suddenly realizing who she was talking too and that she was possibly a little more daring now than she had intended.
He shrugged, completely oblivious to her internal squirming. "There's no meaning to it all. S'as simple as that."
"There's got to be a meaning! Life wouldn't be worthy living if there weren't… I can understand that in your… business… you'll have to refrain from seeing life, and people, as valuable just for being, for existing… or you wouldn't be able to do what it is you do!"
Her words were heated, and they struck a chord in him. A couple of years ago he would've shrugged them off, but life had changed into something he'd never predicted. He had started thinking…
About not being in the business… which, as the events had turned out, he wasn't any more, and about what to do with the rest of his life.
About the fact that he actually wanted to have a life that lasted longer than the next time they happened upon his former associates in the shape of a drive-by shooting, a truck veering across the road on the freeway, or a gassed motel room.
About Lisa.
Yeah… he had started thinking.
It wasn't healthy. It could get you killed. And it was fucking unstoppable.
The sun had set completely. Only a thin red line grazed the horizon far to the west across the endless corn fields. The chirping from below had taken on a new, deafening tone.
"We'd better get down or we'll be trapped up here, unable to see a fuckin' thing."
"It's too late anyways," she countered. "We can stay a little longer… please."
He almost flinched at the unexpected begging. She hadn't begged for much for as long as he'd known her. Not even yesterday when he'd almost put them both out of their misery.
"Guess we can… there's no rush, really." He shrugged. "The hay will still be there when we get down with our sleeping bags. It won't be running off."
"It's because it doesn't know it you who's gonna be sleeping there."
"Oh, YOU!" He punched her shoulder lightly, and she threw up an arm in defense and giggled.
"And I was just going to say that I liked the calm for once," she sighed, overly dramatically, her arm still battling his hand that was trying to find a way to reach her.
"Well, you'd better not fuck with Jackson Rippner, then!"
"Last time I checked, I wasn't – Oh, LOOK!" Her hand clutched his arm as her other hand pointed to the blackness in the east. Far up there were several sets of lights falling rapidly across the vast emptiness. A shower of meteors lit up the dark space, sending sparkles of pure gold over the canopy of heaven.
It was magic. It was beautiful. Her hand was still holding around his forearm, and suddenly her touch burnt him, making his heart tremble between two beats.
Then the moment was gone.
Graceland
"Jackson, is this really necessary? Can't we just… you know…" She stretched out her arm straight out. "Continue east?"
They'd left Arizona's endless plains behind; their now dusty Pontiac convertible faithfully carrying them through half the states of the southern US along Interstate 40; New Mexico with a two-day stop in Albuquerque visiting the Candy Lady and leaving with two pounds of quality chocolate, going straight, staying 'the hell out of Las Vegas' as Jackson had expressed it – too many people there who could recognize him if they were unlucky -, seeing nothing as they drove through hours and hours of endless rain until they hit Amarillo, Texas, where the weather cleared and the had a blast riding almost-wild horses one whole afternoon.
Lisa had begun to get a good idea on where they were heading, but she didn't say it out loud. Homesickness had begun to grumble louder and louder within, and they were obviously heading straightly eastwards. Home? Could it be?
Motel room after motel room were long since blending with one another; grayish, beige, yellowish, cleanish, not-so-cleanish… They stayed on I 40 through Little Rock, Arkansas, following the tracks of the former president, Jackson breaking into a closed pharmacy one early morning to get painkillers for Lisa's headache, both worrying that they'd actually have to go to the ER. Through the beautiful green landscapes, so different from the sandy plains they'd spent too much time around, they then crossed the border to Tennessee.
"You've GOT to be kidding me! Right?" She looked for proof from the Big Bad Assassin that he was in fact pulling her leg, but he slammed the car door shut and flashed her a dangerously sexy grin that made her knees go weak.
"Everyone can have a fetish, can't they? I happen to like sunglasses, okay? And in there is a very special kind that needs to be bought here and no where else."
Lisa stared at the tacky white and golden gates to Graceland and slowly shook her head. "I always knew there was something very wrong with you."
Jackson snorted and took her hand. "Come on."
Lisa freed herself from his hold and sighed. "Okay, okay… Just as long as I get a peanut butter and banana sandwich later."
He looked at her with a disgusted face.
"Yeah, yeah," she said, holding up her hands. "I'm sure I'll throw up, but I have to taste one. And YOU have NO saying in this. You're the one who started it."
Jackson raised an eyebrow and turned on his heel.
A little more than two hours later a satisfied Jackson, clad in large rhinestone Elvis shades, and a hysterically giggling Lisa, pulled down the hard top of their cab and backed out of the parking, with a CD playing and the both of them singing loudly:
I'm in love, I'm all shook up
Mm mm oh, oh, yeah, yeah!
Please don't ask me what's on my mind
I'm a little mixed up, but I'm feelin' fine
When I'm near that girl that I love best
My heart beats so it scares me to deaaaaath
Lisa had tied a yellow scarf around her head and under her chin and, as Jackson sped up, the knot unwrapped. The cab continued down I 55, leaving Memphis, Tennessee to the sound of Elvis, its driver carrying his shades with pride.
The bright yellow fabric sailed off behind them, made a few joyous twists and turns in the air before it landed abandoned by the side of the Interstate.
Incognito
He was pale when he came back from the grocery store, carrying a brown paper bag on his arm, heatedly dumping it on the bed. Lisa stiffened immediately. She read him well by now. They had arrived to Jackson, Mississippi a couple of hours ago, and it could've been funny, hadn't it been for Jackson, the man, returning from the tour down town as if he'd seen a ghost.
"We have to leave. Now."
"Why? What's wrong?"
He started throwing his things into his bag, motioning for her to do the same. "We've been recognized."
Now it was Lisa's turn to lose her color. "H-how… Why?"
"I'm not quite sure… what was our last stop?"
"Graceland," they both said unanimously.
"That's not good, right?" She bit her lower lip and frowned, her face a picture of concern.
He shook his head. "That's definitely not good." It's a fucking disaster.
"But I thought we were supposed to be off the hook by now, and that this whole, giant maneuver was only a precaution…" Her eyes darkened with worry and he couldn't give her the consolation he would have wanted to.
"We ARE off the hook. Officially, so to speak. But this could be one or two freelancing agents who just happened to be around for some other reason than us." He rubbed his eyes. He was so fucking tired after hours of driving, and the thought of going at it again didn't sound the least appealing.
"What do we do?" She grabbed his arm. "Jackson. I'm so tired of running. We haven't even slept here one night yet, and it's late. Can't we just wait it out and see what happens? Maybe they won't come after us? Maybe they're too busy with whatever they're doing?"
He pursed his lips as he regarded her for a few moments. Then he cocked his head. "Hang tight, huh? You'd dare to take the chance?"
She stared back at him, seemingly considering the options, then she nodded. "Yeah. I dare." She dove into his bag and came back up with blue, heavy steel, weighing it in her hand. "Besides… I know how to use this."
The corner of his mouth lifted into half a smile. God, you're beautiful! Yeah, he'd seen her use it. They'd spent a whole day at a shooting range a while back. He'd said he never wanted her to miss again. Like she did with him once… And Lisa had been frightening.
"You never change, do you? Gun-slinging Lisa."
Sleep wouldn't come to any of them for several hours that night, not until they decided to sleep in shifts. The room was dark. Through a narrow crack in the curtains he watched the dark beemer that was parked outside on the other side of the street. All tell-tale signs of his former colleagues. They don't even bother to hide… think we're easy prey. He looked at Lisa's sleeping form, pressing his lips into a thin line from anger. Prey, my ass.
He didn't know when he'd become so devoted to protect the auburn-haired beauty who was sleeping trustingly far off to the edge of the king size bed, her naked arm thrown across half the mattress and over on his side. He'd have to wake her soon, but first he took a moment to revel in the shape of her body on the bed, her beauty, and her… innocence.
Maybe that was it. The feeling that he wanted to redeem himself by saving her innocence. Or what was left of it anyway.
In the gray light of the early morning, she stood in silence to the left of him, staring as he let his soft, rich tresses fall for the sharp razor, patch after patch of white stubbly skin appearing where there had once been… silk. She shouldn't be thinking of him like that. He was a kidnapping, murdering bastard who was all to blame for her having to leave her home and family to save her life. Well… he DID save your life. Many times.Her gaze traced the outline of his squared jaw line, his nose… Then she inhaled as he glanced at her and she met his incredibly blue eyes. Her heart sped up as they regarded each other. Then her gaze wandered up to his now naked head and a burst of laughter bubbled up in her chest before she could stop it.
"You look like a maggot."
He chased her through the bathroom, over the bed and caught her in the far end of the room, by the wardrobe. Trapped between the heavy piece of furniture and Jackson's hair-less body, she squealed and giggled hysterically as she tried to fend off his hands that expertly accessed her waist and tickled wherever they could reach. Suddenly they stilled, both at the same time, and flew apart like two magnets repelling each other. The air had tensed between them and gotten less fun and childlike and more… serious, thicker… more adult.
"Uhm, yeah, I better finish this." He stroke with his hand over his rough uneven stubble.
"Yeah, I guess," she said awkwardly, correcting her pajama top.
Half an hour later, Jackson put on a pair off saggy grey pants, a black hooded top, his bald head shining, and topped it off with the rhinestone Elvis-shades, making her think of a wiry worm going to a Las Vegas show to sing 'Love Me Tender'.
He smirked. "Think they'll recognize me?"
Lisa almost choked on her Yellow Label tea. "Not in a million years. And I hope you give me credit for all the things I'm NOT saying."
He pulled down the glasses slightly and looked at her over the rim, raising an eyebrow, his blue eyes flashing teasingly. "I'm only saving our lives here."
Lisa watched him cross the parking lot in front of the motel, hands in pocket, long strides. He went straight past the car he suspected was watching them. And they didn't seem to take notice at all.
God, he was good. She had to admit that. No matter how much she had hated to submit to going on the road like this, for months and months, he WAS good at keeping them alive.
The crash, followed by the two shots made her flinch and would have made her scream hadn't Jackson quickly covered her mouth with his hand. They stared at each other in the mirror, and when Lisa nodded, signaling that she had gotten herself together, he removed his hand.
"I guess it WAS a good thing we changed rooms then?" she whispered, terrified.
Jackson didn't answer; she'd gotten the severity of their situation. He'd told her how there had been no one at the front desk when he'd passed it on the way out and how, on a whim, he'd grabbed the keys to a non-occupied room at the other wing of the motel. When he came back from his little tour they had quietly exited their room, installing temporarily in this new one.
He nodded at her. "You better finish up."
She looked at her watch. "Ten more minutes."
He left her alone in the bathroom and went to listen by the door and then peek through the blinds. They couldn't really go shooting randomly in every room of the motel, it would be very far from the modus operandi of the firm, and not even the staff of the motel knew where they had gone, so they should be safe.
He sat ready on the bed, their bags packed, shoes on, listening to the blow dryer.
When she exited the bathroom, he gasped. Oh. My. Freaking. God! He'd never thought of her that way. No. That was the biggest lie of the day! He'd been reluctantly pulled towards her since the day he first saw her, but he'd been thinking about it rather coldly, mostly as a liability, even though lately it had become harder to play professional. And look at her now! She's a fucking sex goddess! How the HELL am I going to be able to sleep in the same fucking bed as this woman one more night?
Lisa shook her head, her short platinum blond tresses caressing her cheeks. Then she smiled. "Does it look all right, you think?"
Look all right? You… Fucking hell!
"You'll do," he muttered as he rose and grabbed a bag. "We'd better get going."
Coolly, they strolled across the parking lot, ignoring the sexy red Pontiac that'd been faithfully carrying them through several states and steering their steps to an old green corvette that had seen its best days a decade or so before.
The black car was gone; as he had expected, but he wasn't gonna take any chances.
"Damn, Jim, you've been busy!" Her blonde hair bounced as she cocked her head and threw her bag in the backseat.
He had to hide the smile as she looked at her, awkwardly holding a lit cigarette between her index and middle finger and exaggeratedly chewing a gum. She really did get into her role.
"Darla, honey," he said in a thick Texas accent. "Get your bleached butt in there and let's get the fuck out of here."
So I can fucking concentrate on the road instead!
Seaside Blackout
They drove in silence for most of the part. Lisa's hand kept toying with her new, short bob, glancing at the bright, almost ethereal tresses, and Jackson's hand had involuntarily stroked his smooth head on a number of occasions.
Lisa was heavily disappointed but tried not to show it. They were clearly NOT going eastwards any more. Since they'd been spotted – again – she guessed it was for the better. That it was safer. They'd just reached the outskirts of New Orleans and she could almost reach it, Florida, Miami. They were so close. But she already knew they weren't going in that direction.
Damn you! Damn you for ever coming into my life!
And at the same time she couldn't deny it; she'd never felt as alive before as she'd done these last few months. Life had become so unpredictable, so… interesting. And HE had been the perfect gentleman, part from random threats and outbursts, but he had declared on the first day that they would in fact be sharing room, and bed, but that he wouldn't dream of touching her, whether she wanted to or not. A comment that had made her scream at him, and that had ignited their first argument on this trip. A rather nasty one at that. She wasn't even sure why she'd been so angry, but he'd made her feel… unwanted in a way, as if he was disgusted by her, and that had hurt more than she'd wanted to admit. So instead she'd made up a reason for yelling at him. And he had been easy enough to ignite.
They'd had a sort of peace to them for quite some time now. And they'd even had fun, getting along better and better. She'd caught herself glancing at him more and more often, seeing the man in him, drowning in the blue of his eyes and wishing they'd stay at her for more than fleeting moments at a time.
"It's late. We should find a place to stay for the night," he said, suddenly breaking the silence.
"Somewhere quiet," she pleaded. "I've had enough of excitement for a couple of days now."
His eyes glittered when she looked at her. "I know the perfect place."
They took a left turn on I 55, onto the 12th, eastbound again, avoiding the buzzing New Orleans. I 12 turned into I 10 and where the road sign said 'Bay St Louis' they turned south; the roads getting smaller and smaller, and the salty-rotten smell of the ocean stronger.
In front of a small white wooden house with a porch and a view over the Mexican Gulf, they stopped. Jackson rolled down his window and turned off the engine.
"Here it is, Leese. Beautiful, isn't it?"
She inhaled, stunned from the pretty sight before her. "How on earth do YOU know about a place like this?"
He grinned, his blue eyes lingering on her just a moment too long, making her heart skip a beat. "Long story. Maybe some other time. Come on."
But… I wanna know.
She knew better than to pursue the matter, grabbed her bag from the backseat and opened her door on the ocean-side. The salty wind immediately grabbed her hair and whisked it around her face, the humidity curling the tresses back into their normal shape instead of the sleek layers she'd worked on the same morning. She sighed and pulled at the unruly hair before she followed the long-legged man towards the lovely little house.
'Palm House Inn' she read on the door. A middle aged woman opened when they knocked.
"Reg!" she shouted back into the darkness of the house. "We've gat ourselves guests."
"Coming Marge, just a sec!"
A moment later a nice looking man in his early sixties appeared in the doorway. "Ey, where y'at? Can I take ya- Oh! S' Mr. Reed." He smiled at Jackson and then at Lisa. "Most welcome again!"
Lisa stared suspiciously at Jackson as they followed the nice couple into the house, the hallway being as warm and welcoming as the exterior with flowery couches and small wooden tables, a fireplace, and bookshelves. Mr. Reed, huh?
"Ya want da same room's befoa, Mr. Reed?" the lady asked.
"No," Jackson answered immediately. "Ehm, no, something facing the ocean would be nice. If you have something-" He glanced at Lisa. "More private…"
She smiled. "Sua, why don't ya take the Bienville room then, s' nice and cozy and… priv't. There's a lawg tub and-"
"It'll be fine," Jackson interrupted her. She didn't know why, but she felt a blush creeping down her cheeks, a tightening of her chest, developing into a clenching in her belly. They had never… been so… couplish… No! He's made clear what he thinks of me! She didn't dare to look at either of the people in the room and was very busy flipping through a glossy brochure of the tourism in the area.
Marge and Jackson kept chatting away lightly as she tapped away at the computer by the desk. Lisa had a hard time following the thick New Orleans-accent, but Jackson seemed to understand perfectly.
Smiling to the lady, she then hastily followed Jackson and Reg as they strode across the room, into a corridor, out through a backdoor and stopped by a smaller house in the green backyard, half covered by a large oak tree.
"It's cute," Lisa said.
"Ya, ain't it?" Reg said proudly. "Ya let us know if ya be needin' anything, right? Dinner's served in-" he looked at his watch. "Half 'n howe and until whenever ya won't need it." He flashed them all his white teeth and disappeared into the green behind them.
Jackson unlocked the door and a scent of incense met them as he swung it open. "Yeesh, we have to open all the windows," he said, waving his hand in the air.
"I don't get half of what they're saying," Lisa said as she followed him into the semi-darkness of the cabin.
"And still they're making an effort," Jackson laughed.
"'Ya' don't seem to have any problem."
"It's because I stayed here for a while."
And that was all he said about that.
They had an early dinner, stuffing their mouths full of delicious gumbo, and then they took a short walk along the beach while there was still some light.
When they came back, tired to the bone and wishing for nothing more than a short shower each and then a good night's sleep, they couldn't turn on the lights. Jackson cursed between his teeth and disappeared into the larger house. He came back after a few minutes with matches and candles, poorly hiding his annoyance.
"It's the whole fuckin' area. Fucking rural… We won't be able to see a thing."
They lit a candle in the bathroom and took turns in preparing for the night. Lisa felt sorry for not being able to appreciate the pretty room. She blew out the candle before she exited the bathroom since she was the last one out and figured Jackson was already asleep. When she opened the door, she walked straight into a dark figure.
"I was-," Jackson's voice said to her right. Her head darted in the direction of the sound, crashing her cheek to his mouth as her heart skipped a beat. His strong hands steadied her and none of them moved, her cheek remained right by his mouth and she felt his hot breath caress her skin in short gasps.
"What are you-" she whispered hoarsely, unable to finish the sentence as his lips moved and her head turned on its own accord until her mouth met his; lips quivering against each other until he pressed closer, claiming her mouth more fully, his rapid heart beats matching her own when they met in their first kiss. His hands clasped harder around her upper arms as he pulled her closer, much, much closer.
When she felt the tip of his tongue hesitantly taste her lips, she willingly opened them for him, allowing him entrance as a heavy, sensuous feeling settled in her belly, making her breathing labored and her mind swiveling, unthinking.
Suddenly, he stopped, and for the second time in less than twenty-four hours they flew apart; panting and upset, and with a growing feeling of despair, both of them knowing that they wouldn't sleep much that night.
The next morning they had breakfast in silence, both unusually interested in Saturday morning's edition of The Times Picayune, one of the local newspapers, one of the main news being a police officer who had shot himself upon being accused of bribery. Lisa had to stop herself several times from commenting on what she read and realized how accustomed she'd become to talking to him, all the time, about all and nothing.
They left the cute little inn, which she knew she would forever remember for one thing – a thing happening during a blackout, happening so quickly that it was over almost before it begun - and hit the road again, driving north-west in near-silence.
Leaving some of the warmth behind, the future unknown.
THE END
AN2: This fic has little sisters and brothers, all joining up to a larger picture.
This is the order of the published stories so far, but they intermingle quite a lot:
Not The Destination, But The Journey
Giving You Your Never Again
A Beginning In a Way
Middle of Nowhere
My Happy Ending
Reg and Margie, Palm House Inn, Bay St Louis, Mississippi, do exist. I researched their beautiful little Inn on the net. If I ever go there, I'll pay them a visit.