Disclaimer- Seeing as I don't actually use names I could claim these characters as mine...but in all honesty this was written with Jackson and Lisa in mind (surprise surprise). SO I guess I have to say I don't own these people and all that jazz.

Author's Note- I've been sitting on this for a while now, it is not finished and I kinda ran outta steam. So any suggestions for continuing this would be great! And once I figure out how to personally respond to reviews I'll get back to everyone who's reviewed me, lol. Sorry about that. I do appreciate all of your kind words!

To say it was simply raining would've been the understatement of the year; it was as if the world was turned upside down and the oceans were falling from the sky. The grass that was formally known as the backyard was now an exotic swamp land, and if she squinted just right she could almost see a gator emerging from the flooded land dragging its scaly belly through the mud. She sat staring out through the large glass patio doors tossing the idea of retrieving the soaked lawn furniture back and forth in her mind. On the pro side it would give her an excuse to go out and play in the rain, which she hadn't done since she was a child, however on the con side she had no clothes to change into after; and the thought of sitting either naked or in wet clothes for the remainder of her time there was enough to keep her inside staring longingly as the clouds cried out her frustrations. She glanced to her left and watched, with a small smile, as the pictures rattled on the wall with each clap of thunder; perhaps the house would just collapse around her and put an end to all these games. Lightening struck somewhere near by and in the brief flash of light she watched him enter the room. She kept her eyes on him even as the room went back to its previous darkness; she didn't need light to know where he was, she could feel his presence. He felt hot to her; the same sensation one might get when running their finger tips across the flame of a candle: not quite burning, but a warning not to touch.

He was wet. His hair, which was growing longer by the day, dripped and stuck awkwardly to his face. He'd thought about asking her to cut it, but didn't trust her with scissors that close to his neck. Something in her eyes said 'no matter how friendly I may appear I'd cut you in a minute' and that drew him to her even more: like a moth to the flame. He swiped the unruly locks from his face, slicking them back, before resting his body against the wall-one foot firmly planted on the now sodden carpet the other propped behind him-and crossing his arms over his chest; the stance was casual, too casual for the situation. He watched her as she watched him wondering who'd make the first move. He was impressed with her composure; he'd broken stronger men in less time. A second flash of lightening revealed to him her new position in the room. The large over stuffed chair with the fading floral pattern that she had been sitting in was now vacant and she stood nearly pressed to the glass of the patio door watching in almost child-like fascination as the wind rocked the trees. He pushed off the wall with his raised foot taking soggy steps across the room until he was standing behind her, just a whisper away. Her delicate hands were pressed to the glass, arms slightly apart, fingers spread out almost as if she were reaching for the storm. He placed his hand, still damp with rain water, on her shoulder expecting to startle her but instead she turned her head to him with a questioning look.

It burnt her, that hand on her shoulder, just like every other touch he'd given her; and as he let his hand slide gracefully down her shoulder to the small of her back she felt as if the storm had moved, it now resided within her. She shivered slightly at the thought and he leaned in, closing the small gap between their bodies, to whisper into her ear:

"We're leaving in 5 minutes."

The hand was removed, the storm made it's way back out to the yard, and she felt empty inside. She turned her body completely to him and raised her chin so her eyes were level with his. They stared for what seemed to be an eternity both holding their breath waiting for the other to make a move. It was her turn to speak, and when she did it came out as a confident whisper:

"Why won't you kill me?"

A third flash of lightening illuminated the room and drew them instinctively closer to one another; toe to toe, nose to nose, forehead to forehead. He saw the storm in her eyes and diverted his gaze for a moment letting her know she had won the battle. She wasn't satisfied, the battle meant nothing; she wanted to win the war. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth waiting for him to look back at her; when did they switch roles? When did he become the weak one?

He hated the control she had gained over him; anybody else would've been killed long ago. She intoxicated him, ran through his veins and swirled a fog around his brain like a drug. She was his drug, imagine that clean for all 28 years of his life only to get hooked to a girl…a job. He constantly had to remind himself that she should have been nothing more then a job. But when he looked back into her green eyes brimming with questions needing to be answered he understood that she'd been more then a job since the beginning. She was to be his redemption. His eyes traveled to her mouth; her bottom lip was swollen from the time it had spent between her teeth and her tongue delicately ran over it, assessing the damage, before disappearing back inside.

He opened his mouth and she felt the air shift between them as he exhaled before abruptly turning on his heel and heading for the doorway.

TBC...