A/N: Hello all my lovely readers - sorry for the delay in this chapter, it has been an incredibly busy time for me, but this story has been on my mind the whole way through.

I left descriptions of Jason up to your imagination - I know he appears differently in every film - and I rely heavily on my own imagination when it comes to these things - so I thought this best. Let me know what you want for further chapters in terms of all out description ;)

Reader discretions: Some vulgar language coming up.

Thank you for all your wonderful reviews, I now get on my knees and beg - Please Please PLEASE!!! review :)??

Enjoy :D

Chapter 10:

Whitney awoke to the cool breeze of the rainy morning. The sheets next to her were empty. Jason must have woke with the daylight and left. She pulled the covers over her, she didn't want to leave, it was cold. She could have spent the rest of the morning beneath those sheets where it was warn, and who was stopping her from staying in bed all day? She laughed a sort of ironic laugh; a more pleasant life at Crystal Lake. She rolled over and looked up. Both walls came together in the classic form of an old attic ceiling. Just above her, the bold capital letters carved into the wood of the head board. JASON. She sat up slowly and rested her left side against the head board, running her fingers slowly, gently, over each letter. Jason. She sighed, lying back down beneath the covers, her head resting on the pillow, looking up at those letters, they stood above her. She knew where she was.

The sound of the rain coming down over the roof top nearly put her back to sleep. She was just drifting off when she heard a humming too loud to be rain. She rolled over, thinking perhaps it was Jason, but no. Muddy tires over wet grass. Whitney jumped from the bed, her knees hit the hard, cold floor, and she crawled up to the glass to peer just above the window sill. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck... FUCK! Whitney thought. She slowed her breathing, soon she made not a peep. It was a cop car, a shiny new tough American style police car, with the little Christmas tree still hanging off the rear view mirror. Two large men in bullet proof vests, and guns lining their belts, slowly moving, slowly with loaded guns pointed steadily out in front of them, out into the pouring rain, as though hunting... for someone. The older one looked just like the guy Whitney had thrown into the grinder just last night. Shit, shit...SHIT! she thought. He must be family.

Whitney hoped to hell Jason was close by. He would be, right? Did he ever kill during the day? DAMN IT! If they found her they'd take her away, and Jason wouldn't know where she was, he'd think she left him! No. Ok... stop panicking Whitney, they're just cops, out here in the middle of no where.

"Oh... GOD DAMN IT GEORGE!" the familiar looking officer yelled as he fell over onto his face, making a squishing sound as his well padded body hit the muck, his gun flying out of his hand onto the ground about ten feet in front of him, firing itself off into the trees somewhere. What did he trip over?

Whitney sighed with relief. That trap door downstairs opened violently, hitting the floor behind it, and the footsteps were slow, loud, booming, one by one,

thump.... .... ... thump... ... ... thump..... .... ..... thump...... .... ....

That man must have tripped over the bell trigger. Whitney watched with wide eyes. Where was he? She didn't see Jason anywhere.

"Damn fishing wire... George – it was a fishing wire. I damn-it told my brother Url not to come out here... but no, can't listen to a God damned word against 'im. And that brother of yours, Tucker ain't none the better."

So they were both brothers of the men she had thrown into the grinder last night. This was trouble, Whitney knew if these men went missing there would be more police out here looking for them.

Whitney crawled silently to the doorway, out into the hall, and peered through the spindles down the staircase, and saw Jason standing completely still, with two large machetes, watching the men through the front window.

"Kill them Jason" Whitney whispered to him, "Kill them for me?" Jason slowly turned his head in her direction, and saw her huddled under the rail, grasping the spindles on each side of her. Her eyes were wide, pleading. He made eye contact with her, then looked back through the window. Whitney loved watching him stalk, his demeanor held such power.

"GEORGE!" Url's brother yelled, watching his colleague stumble back a few steps, one large rusty machete piercing his throat, coming out the back of his neck with nearly not enough throat for the whole weapon to seep into. It was the most perfect aim Whitney had ever seen. George fell backward into the mud, making a THUCK! noise. The rain lightly poured over the body, washing the blood down it's skewered neck. Url's brother stopped moving. He stood there in the rain beneath the mean gray skies, watching, listening. HE was here, it was Jason, but he didn't know where the machete had come from. Jason just watched him through the window. All was quiet, until a twig snapped in the woods, and Url's brother turned around, back facing the house, pointing his gun toward the lake. When he turned back to face the house, a good two minutes later, the last thing he would ever see was Jason, standing so close to him he could hear him breathe, and within the very second Jason's machete ran through the flesh and bone of his neck, sending his head spiraling to the wet grass. His body stood standing for an unseemly 5 seconds until finally collapsing backward, to land chest upward upon the soft muddy ground.

Whitney came down the stairs slowly, and stood on the front porch. The rain, which fell harder and harder as the storm came nearer, was going to make it more difficult to move the bodies.

Whitney knew just then what had to be done. George's radio was going off like crazy in the cop car parked just a few yards away. Someone was looking for them. Whitney and Jason both starred at the car. She had to get rid of it, and she had to get rid of the bodies the same way.

She walked out into the storm and plucked the machete from the one cop's neck. She picked up his arm, and began dragging him to the cop car. Jason starred at her. She dropped him.

"Jason" Whitney walked to him. "I'm going to take the bodies, and the cop car, away from here... ok?"

He shook his head from left to right, back and forth, slowly.

"I'm just going to drive them out into a different part of the road. I'm going to drop them off, and I'll be back in a few hours, Jason... you know I'll come back for you, I l..." She stopped herself before the words could emerge from her throat. It was something she could not have expected herself to say or mean, until just now, when she almost said it, and certainly meant it. Though, how would he respond? She knew he couldn't possibly trust that she was 100% true to him, and would come back. The world had treated him... badly, was the right word. Just then, thunder boomed, and the rain fell as though falling at a million miles an hour.

Whitney's arms began to ache. She wanted to hold him as they stood in the midst of the growing storm. Lightning shot across the sky in a million different directions, thunder crashed every few seconds, the clouds black, purple, and an devilish brown swirled above them now, threatening to wreak havoc. She dropped the machete, and closed the space between them. "Jason" She moved both hands softly up his arms to rest on his shoulders, she starred him directly in the eyes. It was going to be harder to leave him those few hours now than she though. "I don't want to go... its the only way to stop more people from coming here." She saw his eyes close. They didn't open, he stood with closed eyes. She felt as though her heart would break into pieces right there. She felt her heart jump as another bolt of lightning rushed violently across the sky. Her hair was matted to her forehead, her clothes stuck to her skin, rain hid the tears falling from her eyes.

"I care about you Jason, I promise you, I will come back." She sniffled, looking to the ground, and back up again, back up to look in his eyes, which were now open again, and looking back at her. "I will never leave you." Her hands moved to his neck, just below his ears. She would have taken off his mask and kissed him, if she thought he would allow her. At this moment she would not have cared what monstrosity he hid behind the mask. She pulled herself to him, her head against his chest, her arms around his neck, into a tight embrace. The machete fell from Jason's hand, landing hard into a forming puddle. When Whitney felt his arms around her, she only held him tighter, her eyes closed, her heart racing. I love you, I love you, she kept thinking to herself, if only she could tell him. The thunder rolled through the skies, accompanying the lightning in perfect harmony. It was time.

Whitney lifted her head, still so close, he still held her to him. Her forehead rested against the bottom of his mask, her hands moving against his back, up along to his skull. She lifted her head again, and starred at him, at his eyes, she wanted him to know what she was doing before she did it, she wanted him to stop her, if he didn't want her to do this. She allowed her hands to move to the edges of his mask, and rest them there, watching him inquisitively. Can I do this Jason? her expression begged. The only thing between them now, was rain.

Slowly, she lifted it, away from his skin, up, revealing slowly his face, from chin, to forehead. Her eyes never left his. She expected him to be disfigured. She prepared herself for the very worst, so when she finally saw him, he was what she expected. He was Jason, the same Jason he always had been. The mask fell from her hands, resting behind him on the ground. Her eyelids seemed to grow heavy, still as close to him as ever, beneath the storm, still growing in its violence, she closed her eyes, and pressed her lips against his, and did not pull away.

Every inch of her arms wrapped around his neck, she gave him kiss after kiss, and when she felt him respond to her... she would drop those dead men off on the road somewhere, and she'd be back. She was thanking the dead men now, as she stood beneath the storm, in Jason's arms. She would be back, she'd die now if she could not come back.