A/N: So it's been a while again... I apologise, I started a story for Aporia when I finished the last, didn't get a chance to write for a while, and came back to what I'd written, with absolutely no idea where I'd been going to go with it. My bad for not writing a plan, huh? So I decided to acquiesce to the request of NicolinaN anf go back to the dinner referred to in 'Ambsace'. It's a pretty lazy way of working in the words, and I'm not entirely proud, but it's an update, and now I can move on to better things. But, in more exciting news, we are now 10% of the way through this little adventure! However I'm going to have to significantly speed up my updates if I want to finish it by my goal date of the end of next year (I'm thinking of going to drama school after I finish my BA, so I'll be lucky if I have time to breathe, let alone write). Anyway, quick warning this chapter contains one example of strong language. No worse than whats in the movie, but if you're sensitive to that sore of thing, there it is.

Aporia:

uh-POHR-ee-uh

1. Rhetoric. The expression of a simulated or real doubt, as about where to begin or what to do or say.

2. Logic, philosophy. A difficulty encountered in establishing the theoretical truth of a proposition, created by the presence of evidence both for and against it.

Lisa had to admit she was terrified. She had been for ten months. As much as she, intellectually, know that Jackson Rippner was a threat, when he'd been lying, bleeding, in her dad's hallway, looking so defeated, she couldn't see that in the apparently broken figure. So she'd let her well meaning father pull her into the kitchen, so she wouldn't have to look at the man who had been trying to kill her. However, all the well her father could wish her didn't help when the police arrived, and there was no one lying above the fresh blood staining the carpet, and no silver Beemer parked across the street. And since then she'd been living terrified. Terrified that he would be coming for her. His single minded focus on 'finishing the job' had made a very strong impression on her. She still wasn't sure how he'd managed to get to her dad's house so soon, but she was almost glad she didn't know.

However time had passed and logic had slowly wormed its way into the forefront of her mind. Jackson had certainly been worried enough about completing the job that there had to be consequences if it wasn't completed – that had shown in the conversation in the airplane bathroom. So surely he'd be focusing more on avoiding those, rather than punishing her. Surely it was vanity that made her think she was so significant in his life. Ten months had passed, at first incredibly slowly and then suddenly with blinding speed. It wasn't that she had stopped being scared, but she had started easing herself back into a semblance of a normal life. So when one of the girls who worked front desk at the hotel had asked her if she wanted to go out for a drink after their shifts ended, it only took a few moments for her to convince herself to go.

The bar was one she had driven past often, but had not visited. She had always thought that it looked like a dive, but the younger girl had sworn up and down that it sold the best margaritas within ten blocks, so Lisa had felt obliged to go. Usually they'd be leaving the hotel at the same time, but when Lisa walked into the lobby, she saw the girl talking to an obviously irate couple. After being assured that the situation was sorted, and that her help wasn't needed for it to be resolved, Lisa, feeling good about breaking out of her shell, offered to go order the first round of drinks, so that they'd be ready when the girl arrived. It was a simple offer; she'd be alone in the bar for all of five minutes before her company arrived. There was no reason to be scared, and for the first time in months, she wasn't

Of course that all went straight out of the window when she walked into the bar, which, admittedly, looked nicer on the inside than it did on the outside, and locked eyes with Jackson Rippner. He was sitting at the back of the bar, and he looked as if he'd stepped straight out of her memory, so much so that she though she was hallucinating for a moment. He'd been angry when she walked in, but the moment he saw her it was like his expression flipped off. She couldn't move for a moment, and when she could her first instinct was to run out of the bar. But then she remembered the terrifying moments where she was wondering if the old lady on the plane was dead, or unconscious, and the worry for her father lodged in her throat like a pill she couldn't swallow, and she realized that if he wanted to see her, she would have to see him, or risk people getting hurt, again.

However, there was no way she was going over to him. She'd forced her feet to carry her to the bar, and though part of her mind tried to remind her that she was supposed to be buying a round of cocktails, her mouth ordered a single beer. And then she heard a voice beside her that made her flinch. And the rest of the conversation had passed like wind. She barely remembered anything that had happened it was like her brain skipped straight to the sight of those dice, one black spot each, beside the pink liquid in his glass, and the pressure of his kiss on her numb lips. She could see no way out. He'd claimed he wasn't stalking her again, but she hardly believed anything that came out of his mouth.

That was how she ended up in one of Miami's upper crust restaurants, wearing the nicest dress in her closet, opposite the one person in her life she had never wanted to see again. The reservation had been under the name Mr. Morris, and she had to wonder how quickly he could disappear, or even make her disappear, if he needed too. The thought didn't help her pounding heart. They sat opposite each other at the table for two, and he smiled at her over the breadsticks. She had to tentatively smile back. She was well aware of the fact that they looked like a completely normal couple to everyone else in the vicinity. She had to act normal. There was no other choice. The exchanged pleasantries, though she barely comprehended the words, and struggled to remember that the proper response to being told that she looked nice was "thank you".

They'd ordered both drinks and entrées – he'd recommended something as she hadn't taken in a word of the menu - before there was a pause in the conversation. Lisa finally managed to catch her breath, though her heart still pounded in her ears like a bass drum, and really see Jackson sitting in the seat opposite her, sipping a glass of scotch. She should've known he'd have expensive taste. For a moment she felt like she was floating above herself, looking at him. He was good looking, she knew that. In the airport, in the line and at the Tex Mex, she'd been flattered, more than unnerved, by his attention. Though her experience in the parking lot two years beforehand had made her wary of men's attention, it did not make her immune to them, and he had been charming. However, looks ceased to be important when the looker in question was threatening her father's life.

She blinked and realized that he was studying her as closely as she'd been studying him, and swallowed reflexively. He looked too smug for her to comfortable with him looking at her. But he could see her discomfort, and it only seemed to amuse him.

"What are you thinking about, Leese?" His voice was filled with latent laughter. Lisa swallowed again, trying to get past her dry throat.

"I- why am I here?" Her voice scraped out unpleasantly, and his easy grin unnerved her significantly.

"Like I said the other evening, Leese, I wanted to take you out to dinner." Lisa felt her head shake automatically, words tearing themselves from her tongue without her consent.

"It can't be that simple. I just want to know why I'm here, Jackson, can't you just give me that." She shut her mouth with a snap to stop the words, and her breath started to come faster, hissing through her clenched teeth. Jackson leaned back further into his chair, watching her contemplatively, as their entrées were placed in front of them. Once the waiter had wandered off, he tipped his head back slightly, staring into the distance above her head.

"I don't know how to explain this to you, Lisa." His use of her name, rather than the nickname that she couldn't help but flinch at, calmed her somewhat, but she couldn't bring herself to reply, and simply waited for him to continue. He leaned forward over his food, and nodded towards her one dish.

"Eat. I'll talk." She looked at the plate with surprise; having forgotten it contained anything edible whatsoever, and picked up her fork. She began to slowly pick at the meal. She couldn't stop herself glancing at him for approval. He gave a bland smile. "I'm not entirely sure how to begin. I'm not really sure how it happened. Did you know you're the first job I've ever fucked up this badly on?" She flinched at his language, but shook her head when he looked at her for a response, and continued to eat her food, though she couldn't taste a bite.

"That's an important event in my life. There's always been the chance before. I like leaving the door open a crack, just to see if the person even runs the right way. Of course I can always slam the door shut in their faces if they did." He grinned at that, apparently contemplating fond memories. Lisa couldn't help thinking of what getting the door slammed in their face must have felt like for the people the jobs were affecting.

"You were the first who got through. You might not understand that, but I'm good at what I do, Leese," he grinned at her, like they were old friends, "I'm good at what I do, and you bet me." He leaned further towards her. "You were intelligent, and resourceful, and incredibly lucky." He grinned and visions of what would've happened if she hadn't been lucky flew through Lisa's head. Jackson sat back again. "So I wanted to take you out to dinner." Then, as if that was an appropriate conclusion to the thread of the conversation, he sat back, picked up his fork, and began to eat. Lisa's jaw dropped open. The waiter came over and asked how their meal was going, and she smiled and assured him it was fine on autopilot. Jackson looked up and raised an eyebrow.

"It's very simple, Lisa, men take women out for dinner all the time." Then he returned to his meal.

The conversation turned back to the kind of content it had at the beginning of the night. All the while Lisa's head was buzzing. It couldn't be that simple. He had to have something over. But that meant she couldn't make him angry, so she went along with the conversations he introduced, which never seemed to get too personal on either side, and when he criticized her for becoming a shut-in, and informed her of Keefe's death, she swallowed her despair, and continued the night as if they were just two people out for dinner. At the end of the night he drove her back to her apartment, and walked her to her door, and she had made no more sense of the night. But she was still convinced he must have something to hold over her head if she didn't do as he wanted, so she let him kiss her on the cheek, agreed to go out again the following week, and watched him walk away in shock.

Armamentarium

ahr-muh-men-TAIR-ee-um

1. the total store of avaliabe resources:
a. the equipment (as drugs or instruments) and methods used in an activity or rofession, expecially in mecidine.
b. factual, experimental, and speculative.

2. array (as of materials); collection.

3. essential componants; apparatus.