'Leese' said Jackson uneasily between heavy breaths. 'My hands, Lisa'

Jackson's hands were bound tightly to his sides and strapped to the bed. She hesitated, but he suffered so horribly from it. He had been unable to turn his body for hours. Jackson groaned in frustration. Lisa saw the old angry expression, the Jackson she knew... but he softened in seconds. He looked at her, pleading with his blue eyes, breathing heavily like a dying man.

'I have hhH... holes in me, Lisa. I can't hurt you.'

Lisa unbound his hands. His skin felt warm, a feverish heat. He curled to his side, sending violent shivers to the IV wires that punctured his body. His arms fell limp on his side, streaked where the binds held tight, bruised red and purple. She loosened the bind on his waist and noticed his ankles were strapped too. It was criminal; Jackson couldn't possibly escape or hurt anybody in his condition.

'They're gonna... they're gonna lock me up.' breathed Jackson with painful effort.

'You shouldn't talk.'

'Why am I alive?' he continued slowly, his voice barely there. 'You know, you could have done me just one more favour and fired an extra bullet,'

'Don't say such things-'

'... or you could have just made that call.'

Those words sent another shot of fear but Lisa knew there was nothing to be afraid of. Jackson was too weak. She forced herself to stare into his eyes; a manic, cold blue which once terrified her.

'Why are you here Lisa?' He asked.

She looked away. His cell was so small, so ugly.

'You know I dream of you.' said Jackson. 'I dream you'd come.'

'And then we'd go to sleep, you and I... in your house... the smell of your hair on the pillow.' he swallowed. 'But you wouldn't want a guy like me would you Lisa? I'm all broken. I'm done for.'

Lisa felt a lump in her throat. She looked away.

'But it's okay. I'll finish this myself.'

Wondering what this meant, she whipped her head back to look at him. Jackson had ripped off every tube that hung from his body; sprays of blood stained his hospital robe. He couldn't breathe- he reached for a glass at the side of his bed and broke it. He was trying to kill himself. Lisa wrestled him down, threw the glass furthest she could and flung the door open to shout for the nurse. Her heart raced... Jackson was dying... Jackson was dying. He was looking intently at her as she tried to support his neck. The moment felt so real, the weight of his head, his sweaty hair. She sensed his hand on the back of her head, he tried to be gentle but he couldn't help shaking. He drew her close to him and smoothed the hair at the side of her face.

'You'll be fine, the doctor's here.' Lisa tried to remain calm, her voice almost business-like. 'You'll be fine...'

'Miss, you'll have to leave the room!' said the nurse hastily pulling her out of the ward. Lisa tried to take a last glance as the door swung shut behind the nurse's back. 'What were you thinking, lettin' him free? It's not the first time he's tried to killing himself in there.'

'Will he be alright?'

'I don't know, miss. I have to get in there.'

Lisa slumped against the wall. There were no chairs in the criminal ward. She could still feel his heavy warm breath on her face... his parted lips. Why did she come at all? She landed on the floor.

It was because she thought of him, every single day, the first thing in the morning. She looked out the window, each time in fear wondering if he would be standing there, watching her. Once in the middle of the night she called the police, thinking she saw his silhouette lurking in her backyard. They told her he was here, crippled and confined to a bed, that she should see a therapist if she wasn't coping well. Lisa decided to see him, to see for herself how helpless Jackson Rippner was. It was all she needed to get over the incident, to stop the nightmares.

'Miss Reisert, I think you should go home now.' The doctor emerged about half an hour later, hands in her pockets. She was a sturdy, middle aged woman with a stern, masculine face but she wore a kind smile.

'How is he?'

'My concern, dear, is you. Did you get hurt in there?'

'No. No I didn't. Is he okay?'

'He'll need talking to.' said the doctor. By this Lisa knew she meant psychotherapy. 'Otherwise he'd heal just fine. Not brand new, but just fine.'

'Okay.' Lisa tried to look composed but she knew her tear swollen eyes and makeup smears betrayed everything.

'He's not quite right, you know... up here.' the doctor pointed a finger to her head. 'Jail is still the best place for him. Just so you know: you're safe from him.' the doctor turned to leave.

'Excuse me, Doctor uhm-'

'Doctor Newman.'

'Would it be okay if I dropped by again... to see him?' said Lisa. 'I just want to make sure he's fine.'

'Sure.' said Dr. Newman. 'Sure you can.'

Lisa checked her appearance in the rear-view mirror of her car and combed her hair with her fingers. She had just finished work and picked up an embarrassingly large rustling bouquet of flowers. She looked nervously at the flowers and began to rip out the ridiculous pink wrapping and purple tissue that was covered with the lines 'I love you I love you I love you...'

She undid the foil and the rubber bands from the stems, wetting the car seat. It had been three weeks. What would she tell him? What if he hated the flowers? No it was just a formality- there was nothing wrong with bringing a patient –a once psychotic killer who chased her with a knife, flowers. Roses wrapped in a sickeningly juvenile sweetheart fashion; she had ordered them in such a hurry she forgot to specify the occasion.

Lisa was directed to a room, different from the one Jackson was located before. She took a deep breath as the guard rapped on the door.

'Jackson, Lisa's here to see you.' Lisa heard a male voice say. A doctor in white stepped out of the room. 'It's alright, he's restrained.'

Lisa stepped in cautiously, a rose dropped –one out of twenty four blooms. She stepped over it. Jackson was wearing a straitjacket. He sat facing the window which had a view of the highway and the high wired fence of the facility.

'Well, what brings you here Lisa?' his voice was healed completely. He bent his head back to look at her, his blue eyes freezing her attempt to get closer. 'Flowers?'

'Hello, Jackson.' Lisa put the roses on the table attached to his hospital bed. It scattered pathetically, petals dropping.

'Don't look at me like that. I don't need your pity.' said Jackson coldly. 'They put me in this just because you were coming. But you know what?' he lifted his arms. There was humour in his eyes. 'I've had a bit of practice.' It took less than minute for Jackson to peel the straightjacket off his head. Lisa backed away as Jackson unstrapped his ankles from the chair.

'I go to jail on Sunday.' Jackson watched her, he sounded as casual as he did months ago, offering to buy her a drink at the bar.

'I see you changed your mind about suicide.'

Those words wiped the smile off Jackson's face completely and Lisa regretted it. It was just a reflex: hurting him in defence.

'No.' it took a while for the answer to come. Jackson did something unimaginable, picking up a few stems he held them to his nose. It was a strange picture: Jackson smelling flowers.

'I need you to do something for me,' he said quietly. 'Lisa I don't want to go to jail.'

'You have to.'

'It's for life.' His eyes met hers.

'You deserve it.'

'I just need you to find someone for me.'

'You can't live your whole life as a convict.'

'That can easily be arranged, I don't have to.' he touched her forearm lightly. 'I'll be a free man again. Brand new ID. It's just paperwork. I'll take on another name... something you'd like. Then we could go somewhere together. I'll take you out. Movies, to dinner... we could go to the supermarket.'

'I won't have any of this. I don't love you, Jackson.'

'I love you.'

'You can't love.'

'It's just one phone call.' He said gently.

Phone call. Memories began to flood in. Lisa knew she had to run. Get away from Jackson.

'I love you, Lisa.' said Jackson, taking her by the shoulders. His eyes were so beautiful. 'I really do. I don't want a life without you. You want me too, don't you Lisa?'

'I don't know what you're talking about.' Her voice cracked. Lisa backed away instinctively.

'Feel this.' He took her struggling hand and put it to his chest. Lisa felt a prominent line of stitches. 'You did this to me, it was a bit hard to fix -my right lung's a goner. The scars are still raw. I bleed in my sleep. If you don't help me make that call Lisa-'

The door opened abruptly. His doctor appeared followed by Newman, the woman Lisa had met before.

'What the-,'

'I'm sorry Dr. Hill but as you know,' Jackson looked wryly at Dr. Newman. 'Lisa here has had a history of setting me free.' He made eye contact with Lisa after saying this.

'Miss Reisert!' she acknowledged in surprise. Lisa was about to explain that she didn't loosen the straightjacket when she felt a piece of paper slip into her hand. It was a phone number. It had to be.

'Am I allowed to keep a vase?' Jackson Rippner wore the most charming smile he could muster, holding up a single perfect bloom to his lips.

Dr. Hill crossed the room and picked up Jackson's straightjacket.

'No. No you can't, Rippner.'

'Oh I'm sorry, Leese.' Jackson looked regretfully at Lisa, flashing an apologetic smile and threw his head back in true Rippner fashion. 'Can't keep these.'

Lisa got in the car and unfurled the number Jackson had scrawled. Taking a deep breath she started the car and turned off the music to let her thoughts race. He threatened to kill himself in prison... But would he? It was already Friday evening. If she helped him escape, it would be obvious that it was her doing. She thought it was so bold of him to take the chance at her, thinking she was in love with him after everything he had done. She felt hot tears stream down her cheek. The ugly truth was she did love him. She wanted to be with Jackson, walking down the supermarket aisle looking for mundane things and filling the push cart with enough things for two to carry...

She reached home late. It was a long drive. Her mind was set clear: she would not help Rippner. He was a serial killer, a psychopath with no conscience, incapable of feeling. He could not love her... he could not love...

Turning on the kitchen lights she found a silver luggage case on the island countertop. Her first instinct felt it was a bomb.

'It's all yours.' She heard a voice. A man stepped out of the shadows.

'Who are you?' Lisa grabbed a kitchen knife.

'Slow down, baby.'

He crossed the room and unbuckled the case. Lisa saw a neat mass of green.

'2.8 million. All yours.' He said. 'They stole the rest. Jack didn't have a life. He lived in a dump and stole my clothes.'

'I don't want this money. You can take it and get out of my house.'

'You made that call yet?'

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'I wouldn't trust those guys if I were you.' The man cocked his head sideways. 'You're quite a looker, his type. The nice kind. A bit like ma.'

'Are you-,'

'His brother, Jeff. We just share moms, we don't look the same. I practically raised him he's more like my son.'

'Take the money and go.'

'If I cared about the cash I wouldn't bother delivering it now would I?' he took a gun out his pocket and placed it on the counter.

'My style is a little different. Jack's crazy, and I'm not crazy.'

'You broke into my house.'

'I had to. You want him alive?' said Jeff. His eyes were brown. He looked nothing like Jackson. 'Or are you really an unfeeling bitch because that would be a big disappointment after all I heard about you... You make that call right now, Lisa and find out what they're going to do. Because if I'm not wrong... they're after you too.'

'A gun's not going to threaten me.' said Lisa. 'I'm not calling anybody.'

'You're smart. You want evidence? Cos I've got two dead men in my truck waiting around for you when I showed up. They started shooting at me so I figured it couldn't be a FedEx delivery.'

'I'm not getting involved in this. There's no use getting him out of prison and hiding him, he's too ill.'

'He'll take his life.'

'That's his choice.' said Lisa, trying not to cry. 'But he's safe there.'

'And what about you?'

'They have no reason to kill me.'

'Where's that number?'

'I threw it away.'

'You remember the first or last numbers?'

'I didn't care to look.' Lisa was afraid, the knife held tight and ready to stab.

'You did, Lisa.' He heaved a sigh. 'I'm sorry you were ever a part of this. But you are and sometimes bad things happen to good people. Just like you. You're going to die because somebody just wants you to. There's no logic in it. Just pure psycho.'

'Do you work for the same person?'

'I wouldn't say yes but it was something like that.'

'Why don't you just tell me what you do?' said Lisa.

'I work for the CIA.' He showed her the proof. 'More of an underground job. But of course I got busted by... surprise, surprise! Jackson. Now the world's top demons want me dead.'

'So why are you saving him?'

'I'm more like using him as bait, you see. And you.' said Jeff opening the fridge. 'It's a big project and I need Jackson alive. He's more popular than you think.'

Lisa's heart raced. She needed to think.

'Pack your things, you're relocating.' said Jeff as he bit into an apple. 'Don't worry Lisa it'll be over real soon. We'll just drop by Arkham to pick up your boyfriend, take out the psycho bosses one by one and then life goes back to normal, except the world would be a much better place.'