Ok, this is really really really really really really really really bad and sloppy and gross and short and I'm totally not happy with it, but I felt so guilty about the wait that I just had to put something up. Here's something to keep you interested. I hope people still kind of care about this story! I'm trying, I really am.

JACKSON

Jackson laid Lisa in the backseat of the SUV before getting in himself, slamming the door in the front. Adam turned from his spot at the wheel and glanced back at the woman who had given his friend so much trouble these past few months. She was pretty beat up, but that was only to be expected. As much as Jackson tried to deny it, he wasn't one to pass up an opportunity to lash out at someone when he's pissed. He almost felt sorry for the poor girl. She didn't intend for any of this to happen, she was simply trying to protect herself. That was why Adam had stayed out of the assassin business when he was younger. Not that he ever actually had the potential to become one, but if he did, he would have steered clear. He didn't have the stomach for it. It was a messy job and screwed people up more than they already were. He looked at Jackson. He first met his friend ten years back when Jackson was busy filing papers and getting coffee for the big guys. He walked through the office with such confidence, telling jokes when the time warranted it, buying drinks for the other low lifes on the totem pole. He was different back then, less anxious. Now he was bordering insane. He had sold his soul for a six zero paycheck. He kept up the calm exterior fairly well, but it was easy for Adam to see straight through to the raging inside. But he wasn't one to get too involved in people's personal lives. Or, at least, Jackson's personal life. He'd let him have his fun and hopefully he'd cool down once the Company stopped looking for him. For now, Adam decided to mind his own business and just thank God he wasn't the unconscious girl lying in the back seat.

Jackson buckled his seat belt. "Move." As the car began rolling, Jackson took out the folder holding their new identities. Adam had worked tirelessly these past few days to create a whole new life for him and Lisa. It was more than Jackson needed, but he was grateful for all the effort he had put into the project. He pulled out their driver's licenses- Jonathan and Leah Riner- and replaced his old one in his wallet. He left the rest of their lives in the folder, closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the seat.

Adam sped through the quiet suburban town. In twenty minutes, they would reach the private jet hangers where Adam would say goodbye to Jackson. About fifteen hours after that, Jackson and Lisa would land in Australia where, hopefully, they'd never be heard from again.

GREG

"Breaking News: Earlier today, a bomb exploded in center city destroying more than half a city block. So far, twenty seven casualties have been reported. Forty two pedestrians have been checked in to the hospital, many of whom are now in critical condition. Experts agree that the source of the explosion came from a car bomb, which was found to be professionally hand crafted. Police do not have a suspect in custody at this time, but they agree that this may have been terrorist related. Many have noticed the recent rise in terrorist activity, the mayor included, who has raised the level of security throughout the city to match that of 9/11…"

Greg stared blankly at the television, not at all listening to the blonde reporter babbling on the screen. He didn't see the flashing images of burning buildings and cars in the city; no, all he could see was Lisa as she struggled against Jackson's grip and her limp broken body as he carried her out of the apartment. He couldn't believe that someone could be so cruel as to harm and kidnap another human being. It made him sick. But who was worse? The kidnapper or the person who could just stand by and watch without doing anything to stop him?

Greg suddenly stood up. He made his way over to the wall and slammed his fist against it, over and over again until his knuckles bled. He was breathing hard by the time he stopped. He stared at the red stain he had made on the wall. He should have done something more to help Lisa. He should have called the police when she first told him about Jackson, should have kept her at his place and kept her safe, should have…there were too many missed opportunities. And now she was gone, and it was entirely his fault.

He tore his eyes away from the bloody mess he had made and went to go nurse his bruised knuckles. There had to be a way he could help Lisa. He was the only one who had seen Jackson take her, who could possibly know the extent of harm he could do to her. The police had been less than helpful. When they showed up at Lisa's apartment, they took some fingerprints and fabric found at the scene, only to admit they would have no way to search for Mr. Rippner. Greg had asked an older detective to give him a candid answer, which was a disappointing one. "Honestly," the man said, "It's gonna be tough. The name 'Jackson Rippner' technically doesn't exist. This guy has no age, finger prints, social security number…" He shrugged. "We're not positive he's affiliated with any known terrorist association, but if he is, the terrorist network is huge. He could be anywhere in the world right now with the absolute best resources to keep hidden. You've given us some good information to start with, but we're gonna need a lot more to make some legitimate progress. We'll keep you updated when we find something though." Greg was left with the man's card and very little hope to keep him going.

If he were going to save Lisa, the police would be the last on his list when asking for help. Honestly, he had no clue as to where to start. He had no connections and Jackson had not hinted where he was taking Lisa. Greg sighed and sat back down in the living room. His entire body screamed in pain from the beating he had suffered at Jackson's hands, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the guilt eating away at him. He turned the volume way up on the television to distract himself. It took him a few seconds to focus on the screen, but he soon realized that the blonde reporter was still talking about the explosion. 'Like I care…" Greg pointed the remote at the television, but stopped as he took a closer look at the surveillance tape they were showing. A store's camera caught the whole disaster. Bright white blotted out most of the screen and people were flown across the street. A man landed right under the store's entrance, and unless he was mistaken, Greg could have sworn he recognized the man's features. Dark hair, lanky, well dressed…

He jumped up from his chair and ran into the kitchen, searching through some piles of paper till he found what he was looking for: the old detective's card. He dialed the number and tapped his fingers impatiently on the counter until a chipper voice interrupted the beeping tones in his ear. "This is Detective Rosenbaum."

"Detective, this is Gregory O'hara."

"Greeegory…oh yeah, from the Reisert crime scene. How can I help you?"

"I was just wondering if the explosion in Center City had anything to do with the attack on Ms. Reisert?"

"Oh." The detective cleared his throat. "Well, um…they are two extremely different circumstances…and I'm not allowed to give out any classified information, terrible consequences…"

"Detective, I was watching the tape they had of the explosion and I recognized Jackson Rippner. He was there, at the bombing, and I think you know about it."

The old man sighed. "Look, Gregory, I know you're upset about Ms. Reisert, but I want you to know that we're doing everything-"

"Please. Just…tell me what you know."

There was silence on the other end. Greg held his breath until he felt lightheaded, and even then the detective said nothing. He waited another ten seconds before Rosenbaum finally answered him.

"I think you're a good kid, Gregory, and that's the only reason I'm gonna give you this information. If they ever found out, I'd be fired like that. Just promise me you won't do anything stupid with it."

Greg promised, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

"We knew almost immediately that the bombing was terrorist related. It was placed right outside of the Beaderhill Suites. The guy who lives in the penthouse there, goes by the name of Adam Cresswood. Didn't take long for us to figure out that this guy was associated with some pretty bad people at one point. We toyed around with all the possibilities, but we don't think it was a coincidence that the explosion occurred right outside his place. It wasn't till later, when we watched the surveillance tape, that we recognized Jackson. We think he might have been in correspondence with Mr. Cresswood just before the bomb went off."

"You don't think Jackson could have set the bomb there himself?"

"No, he was caught in the crossfire. If he set it up himself, he would have been long gone before anyone got hurt. We think it was meant for either Jackson or Adam, we're not sure yet which one. But we believe both incidents are somehow related with one another."

His stomach tightened in excitement. "How can I find this Cresswood guy?"

"Now I definitely can't tell you that. Gregory, you promised you wouldn't do anything stupid. You want my opinion? Try to forget about the girl. There's not much you can do and you shouldn't feel obligated to go and get yourself killed for her. I promise, besides her father you will be the first to know about any developments involving this case."

Greg stood there silently for several moments. He felt like a deflated balloon. He had rushed himself into a hopeful oblivion that made reality difficult to face again. There was a second where he had imagined himself running into a room full of terrorists with a machine gun in his hands and saying something witty right before he filled them all with lead. He'd sweep Lisa into his arms and carry her off into the sunset, where they'd live and he would keep her safe from all harm. But of course that could not happen. Instead, Lisa would probably wind up dead at the hands of a sadistic psychopath and Greg would have to live with the knowledge that he had a hand in her terrible, bloody fate.

"Greg? You still there?"

Greg cleared his throat. "Yeah, sorry."

The detective sighed. "Get some rest. Go out, do something constructive. I'll call you as soon as I hear anything."

"Yeah. Thanks." He hung up the phone, and with it, any hopes of saving the girl he fell for the moment he held her in his arms.

What do you think? Any questions, comments, concerns? You know your reviews keep me motivated, so REVIEW, PEOPLE! Ok. I love you all. Adieu and good day.