And here is the last chapter! A little early Christmas gift for you guys. For those of you who have finals now (like me), or still have a ton of Christmas shopping left to do because of procrastination (again, like me lol) hope this will give you a nice little break from all that chaos and thanks for the hits/reviews.


I'm running down highways 'til I see your face;
I just need to see you now, I don't care about anything else.


Jackson is standing in front of Lisa's door. He has been standing there for the past twenty minutes. Before that, he was sitting in his car, across the street from her apartment window, for about an hour and a half. And now he is just standing there by her door, pondering over the speech he already planned out in the car. He thought the whole thing through. He wasn't going to apologize, naturally. His pride would prevent such a thing (and it just so happens that his pride remains fully intact after his three-year ordeal). He wouldn't get into the grisly details of what he went through, and he would absolutely not beg for her forgiveness. He would tell her his past job became a clusterfuck of a disaster, but he handled it. He's done and he's back. After that, it will depend on her to either welcome him or chuck him out of the window (she lives in the fifth floor, by the way). He's not going to ask for anything; don't think I have the right to.

Jackson gnaws on his bottom lip and continues to stare at her door number. Ah, fuck it. He knocks three times.

The door suddenly gets pulled opened and he attempts a smile. Key word: attempt. As his lips were curving upwards, he caught sight of her and his breathing hitched. Oh, it's hitting him like a ton of bricks right about now; like he got tackled by a 300 pound football player and then a tank proceeded to roll over him. He missed her. He missed her very much. It didn't occur to him just how much he missed her until now. Seeing her again – her green eyes that he swore held the whole forest in them, her auburn hair like living flames – it made his heart pound and his chest ache. Forget about that speech he had prepared, after seeing her, that went straight out the window (that he might soon be tossed out of as well). Of course, despite this internal turmoil, his face remains mostly impassive with a half smile that he wasn't able to complete.

He chokes out a strangled, "Hi, Leese," as she stares at him like he grew another head.

And she continues to stare at him, unmoving, with her mouth hanging open. Will you at least blink? Jackson stood there awkwardly, shuffling his feet a little. "Can I come in?" he finally asks when all she did was gawk at him for the past thirty seconds. She starts and moves away from the door; he steps through a little sheepishly.

He takes a quick look-over her apartment. His spare reading glasses, the one he left on the coffee table, are gone; along with a few books he had. The remote control and tray of TV dinner, partially eaten, are the only things sitting on that table. His more casual shoes that were neatly placed by the door are no longer there. The jacket he left on the arm of the couch is missing. The coffee mug he has dubbed "his" isn't where it used to be in the kitchen, if it's in there at all. Dammit, now isn't the time to be snooping. Say something.

She, however, beat him to it, "It's been three years, Jackson." She said that so low that he almost missed it.

He turns towards her with his lips slightly parted. She looks tired (and miffed). Lack of something better to say, he, quite dumbly, replies, "Yea."

After that, it became an emotional roller coaster going straight down at a ninety degree angle. Yes, Jackson Rippner has emotions. He's just very good at squelching them, although he's currently having problems with that. Every word coming out of her mouth is causing him to fucking feel. And it's definitely not one of those nice feelings. He knew this was going to happen. Not only would she not understand, she would have never even thought about it – how hard it was to make it back at all, let alone make it back in one piece. He will admit it, she had it bad too, but as bad as him? Not nearly…not ever.

She's crying, she's screaming, she's upset and he's contrite; he even said he was sorry – so much for not apologizing. He reaches out to touch her and she moves away. That stung, but was expected. She just keeps on tossing accusations at him; all of them biting. The fact that they are all true makes it even worse. He can feel his own anger rising alongside her own. You're supposed to be smart, Leese, think.

Jackson clenches his jaws together as she continues her tirade, although the rest of his face is frozen in place and mask-like. Damn your female-driven, emotion-based crap. At this moment in time, he couldn't stand to look at her without everything falling to pieces, so he turns away. He would end up snapping at her, telling her way too much information. He would get angry; he might lash out. He would end up showing her that, although he's fully intact physically, he's not quite all that well in his mind. The PTSD should be hitting home soon enough, he just wants to bury it for as long as he could until then. He's also trying to avoid the looks of pity she would surely give him when he eventually breaks in half. She's going to give him sickening looks of pity, yea; he knows she will, but not tonight. He doesn't want her to know just yet, and he doesn't want those kinds of eyes on him. Not. Tonight. And hopefully not ever, but he's not really one for hopes.

It's not until Lisa accuses him of being a liar that he finally cracks along the edges. He practically snarls, "I've never lied!" and the anger he was hiding so well flashed in his eyes.

She jumps and gasps slightly in shock. Shit. He presses his lips together firmly and takes a deep breath through his nose. "I didn't lie," he breathes.

And, of course, she doesn't believe him; which doesn't surprise him. Furthering arguing leads to a freaking stand-still where neither of them could find another word to say to the other. Finally, she breaks the silence in a whisper so soft, he has to strain his ears to hear it, "What do you want?"

You. "…A chance…" he answers, a little less softly than she, while stepping closer to her.

And now the moment of truth. She stands there in front of him, not looking at him, a battle warring behind her eyes. She needs to think about it; wonder if that is good or bad? Seconds tick away like hours. Their breathing sound very loud in the otherwise silent room; somewhere in the neighborhood police sirens came and went. Lisa chews on her lower lip and clenches her eyes shut.

"One chance," she whispers.


COMPLETE

Please review!

Whether or not I write a sequel/prequel to this depends on (1) how many people want one and/or (2) how lazy I am lol.