Lisa's heart pounded with a sickening intensity beneath her chest, and her eyes glazed over with unshed and unwanted tears. The leather seat felt suddenly hot and sticky, but in that moment the car had become a haven. She looked to Jackson, who was neatly placing their wardrobes in suitcases from the trunk, and then to the door on her side. It was on auto lock, which meant she couldn't get out without her captor hearing the chink as the lock popped up. Lisa's hand rested tremulously on the door handle, but she knew that no matter how many times she thought it over, she wouldn't run. The chances of her successfully escaping, and warning her mother were slim, mostly because Jackson (without a tracheotomy) could catch up with ease. And that left Lisa with the only option that truly frightened her—to leave with Jackson.

"I hope you're ready, Lise," Jackson said, walking around to the driver's seat, "because we need to board." Lisa couldn't even return his gaze; her brown eyes wavered in their focus on her quivering hands.

"No," she whispered.

"Hm?" he asked, poking his head in through the driver's side.

"I can't go on this ship with you," she said slowly, trying to keep her tone steady.

"Of course you can," he smiled back, then: "and you will." Lisa shut her eyes as a wave of nausea flooded through her body. She could almost feel the bile rising in her stinging throat. Then Jackson was at her side, the door unlocked and flung open. A dark suitcase was shoved onto her lap, and she looked up at him; the expression in his guarded eyes told her everything she needed to know—there was no way around what he wanted her to do.

"Get up, Lise, we're going," he said coldly, then scanned the dock. When she didn't comply fast enough he roughly gabbed her upper arm and yanked her from the cushioned seat.

"Where are we going?" she asked breathily, no longer struggling against his violent hold.

"You'll find out soon enough," he said, clenching his jaw in an annoyed manner. Then he turned away to scan the dock. When his eyes were on her again his composure had been regained, and he slackened his grip on her until his fingertips, trailing gently down her arm, curled around her own like strangling vines.

The couple was easily camouflaged amid the hundreds of people clutching their baggage and each other. But Rippner stopped suddenly, near the edge of the crowd, and looked over the scene with an impatient gaze.

"Looking for someone?" came an older and deeper voice. Lisa recognized it, having just heard it earlier that day, and turned her head in the owner's direction. Jackson spun her around so that they were now both face to face with the newcomer.

"Lecton," Jackson acknowledged casually. The man nodded, letting his glasses shift slightly down the bridge of his nose.

"You've gotten the case, then?" he asked.

"Of course," Jackson responded, and tipped his head to motion to the parking lot. "It's in the trunk." He tossed Lecton the keys, then came in closer. Lisa didn't move. "I need our IDs," he continued, waiting while the man produced two plain brown wallets. Then they parted; no goodbyes, no thank yous.

"Here," Jackson said, and handed Lisa her wallet. She took it without interest, assuming he had taken her license from her home. As they walked up the dock, however, and prepared to board the ship, Lisa found she was very wrong.

"Tickets?" asked a younger man at the entrance. Jackson set down his suitcase to fumble with his wallet.

"Get your ticket, Lise," Jackson told her, but she could only stare. By handing over this ticket she was sealing her doom, just has she had when she'd given her pass to board the red eye all those months ago. "Lise?" Jackson broke her out of her reverie with mock concern. "Everything okay?" When she didn't respond he took the wallet from her, grabbed the ticket, and handed it back. The entrance worker looked at the young women sympathetically.

"Have a good trip, Mrs. Rippner," he said at parting. Jackson smartly grabbed the open mouthed Lisa before she could retort, and only slowed when they were safely on the deck.

"What did he call me?" Lisa asked, eyebrows raised dangerously. Under normal circumstances, Jackson probably would have smirked, but now the only response she received was a distracted glance and a tug on her arm.

Jackson hurriedly drug her below deck, muttering room numbers on the tops of newly painted doors as they passed. When he finally found the room he was looking for he breathed in out in what Lisa supposed was relief. Then, after slipping a card through the lock near the handle, they entered.

Lisa held her tongue as an elegant light flooded her vision, casting a soft glow on the room. There was a single round window on the opposite wall, and from it streamed sunlight and the favorable green of the sea. The room wasn't too large, or at least it was small enough for Jackson to keep an eye on her. There was only one bed, a queen, and it was clothed in white linen and topped with a lacy spread. Near the headboard was another door that lead to the bathroom, but the light was off and Lisa couldn't see past it. Neatly placed in congruence around the peach walls were decorative paintings of either the sea or sea life. Had Lisa been with anyone else, she would have smiled.

"Well, what do you think?" Jackson asked, tossing his suitcase onto the bed. "It's a little too cheery for my tastes, but overall…" He smiled. "What, don't you like it?" The sarcastic tone behind his comment brought Lisa back to her senses.

"Why did he call me—?" she broke off, and breathed out in frustration. She couldn't even say it.

"My wife?" Jackson finished for her, eyebrows raised just slightly. Lisa looked up, waiting for an answer. "Check your wallet," he said, motioning to the brown leather clutched in her hand. Then he reached for his suitcase and absorbed himself in the task of unpacking.

Lisa quickly opened the wallet, and saw her ID picture staring up at her. But the codes on the shining plastic were different, as was the name printed there. Lisa Henrietta Rippner. It seemed so real—too real—to be able to actually see it in print, and she felt sick at the prospect of actually—ever—marrying…

"No," she said strongly, "No no no." This time, she did receive a smirk.

"Actually, yes." Jackson put his collared shirt down and strolled the three feet or so until he was standing in front of her. Their eyes locked, and he spoke. "For the next few weeks you will be—" Smiling, he took the wallet from her, and glanced down to her license before looking back up. "Mrs. Rippner." Lisa's eyes narrowed as she glared fiercely.

"The next time you give me a gun, I'm going to shoot you," she told him.

Jackson leaned in until their foreheads were nearly brushing, amusement consuming his remarkable eyes. "Are you sure that's something you want to do?" he whispered, never taking his gaze from her. Lisa stumbled back, and her eyes flashed with a new nervousness.

"I've done it before," she snapped.

"Yes, you did. But a lot has happened since then, wouldn't you agree?"

After a pause, Lisa found she didn't want to answer him. Jackson tugged on her arm, motioning to the door. "Let's go watch the christening," he suggested.

This time, Lisa went without a fuss.


A/N: Phew! Okay, I got them on the cruise! And I'm sure you were expecting some L/J action in this chapter, so sorry that there's no smoochies yet. But it's coming, I swear! Thanks bunch for your reviews, guys! You all rock!

TheNthDegree—Lucky, I've never been on a cruise ship. –pouts- So, the description comes from cruise commercials, lol. Yep, the one's with the Kelly Clarkson music and everything. ;) And no, the target isn't on the ship. They're taking the ship to get to him. Um, it'll all make sense later, I swear. Great, I forgot about the sandals. But he'll get them, because he's Jackson and he has a high heel phobia. And no, that wasn't a bad joke, lol. It made me laugh. Have fun watching Hannibal!

Claire Hall—Dude! New chapter! NOW!

Seeiko—Muffles? Smuffle muffin? Omg, I seriously thought that was so funny! I had this vision of Jackson staring all sad at a pissed Lisa, and then saying, "Aww, smuffle muffin!" ;) You, my friend, rock.

TheShoeLessOne—You know, I was really unhappy with that last post, and then you told me to put in more descriptions, so I did, and I actually liked it a lot more. Gracias! Oh, and I actually decided sort of last minute not to drop AP lit. Probably a bad idea in the long run, but it's cool, lol. I don't like Ravioli, either. I was just thinking about what I usually saw in food courts, and down here there's always a lot on mini-Italian stands and whatever, so yeah. Have fun with the next update of Taken, I'm really excited to read it!

BIG thanks to: silentsister, signs fan, BregoBeauty, thesupernugget, Kate, Lola Q, Jack E. Peace, Evergreen702, Linsee, KC-Chick, and Trinity!