It took three hours before they were landing in New York and Amelia had slept for the majority of the way. Jackson had bought her a sandwich to eat after she had complained that she was hungry, but he'd looked across to her and she'd fallen asleep with it half eaten and dropped back into his wrapping. Her legs were curled up to her chest and her head was resting to the side, her breathing shallow and her hair falling out from the ponytail she'd put it in.
He'd awoken her when they landed, eating her sandwich for his own as they did. She placed her satchel over her shoulder, not caring about the fact that it creased the middle of her jumper and showed her small chest more prominently.
Jackson kept his hand around her wrist, making sure she didn't wander off as he led her through the terminal, his bag firm in his hand. But, he soon found that she wasn't keeping up with his fast pace and the vacant look on her face told him that she was exhausted. He managed to remain focused, months of training teaching him that he had to. But, she was no manager. She kept wandering off, their arms extending and Jackson had to keep dragging her back to him.
Finally, he wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her tightly to his side and she didn't even complain. Jackson had rolled his eyes, thinking of how she must be ready to collapse if she didn't even stir when he held onto her tightly. If anything, she leant onto him. They began the dull wait for their flight from JFK to Madrid.
He bought a newspaper whilst Amelia sat down on a seat, curled up onto it with her bag by her side and she looked ready to fall asleep again. She reminded him of a toddler who fell asleep into their food as she ate the chips she'd bought.
His eyes remained fixed on her as he paid for the paper. He didn't want to risk losing her or have anyone find her. Eventually, he settled down beside her, flicking through the boring paper of financial gossip and world affairs.
"When we get to Venice then we'll find a hotel," he promised her. "You can sleep and then we can decide what to do."
"What do you mean?" Amelia asked him in a small whisper.
"Well," Jackson spoke, looking down onto his paper, "we can't stay together, can we?"
"I don't know," Amelia muttered. "I'm too tired to think."
"Go to sleep then. I'll tell you when we're departing," Jackson spoke, his voice irate as tiredness washed over his body. He ignored it though, making sure he didn't listen to his body's protesting.
"What's your job?" Amelia suddenly asked him and he looked across to her as she ate another chip.
"I'm a manager," he simply said.
"A hit man?"
"No," he snorted. "My shot is worse than yours," he promised her with a smirk. "I deal with high profile assassinations. Not me personally. I have people to do that dirty work for me. Well...I did...now I'm on the run."
"Why do you do it?" Amelia asked him, struggling to keep her eyes open as Jackson turned to glance at her and she shrugged at him, yawning loudly as she did so. "Surely there are easier jobs."
"It was just something which I chose to do," he replied to her, keeping his response minimal and to himself. The less she knew then the better. "Why are you a food critic?"
"I like food," Amelia mumbled. "I can't imagine that you like holding people hostage and threatening them."
"I do what I have to," Jackson replied to her. "It isn't something that bothers me too much."
Amelia scoffed at hearing him, shaking her head and sinking further down into her seat.
"Your moral compass is way out," she informed him before closing her eyes and he chuckled, looking back at her. Something about him was way out.
...
The flight to Madrid was considerably longer and there were more people and more seats. They were sat on a row of four in the middle of the plane, Amelia taking the inner seat and Jackson the seat next to the aisle. A couple sat to the side of Amelia, completely wrapped up in each other as she remained awake, feeling cramped and tired.
Jackson had his tray lowered, reading his newspaper from it and Amelia glanced at it every now and then as the plane shook suddenly her hand instantly reached onto the armrest, landing on top of his as he drummed his fingers against it.
Jackson's eyes travelled downwards to see her fingers on his and he didn't move, instead he just looked up at her and she slowly removed her hand from his before he leant closer to her ear, his voice low and soft.
"If you wanted to hold my hand then you just had to ask," he taunted her and she glared over to him. He continued to smirk as the plane shook again and Amelia looked around at all the other unfazed people.
"Shut up," she hissed at him. "What do you have in your bag?"
Jackson raised a brow as he looked at her and she shook her head.
"I'm not bothered about the money. I'm thinking of toothpaste and maybe a hairbrush," she said and he nodded at her.
"Why?"
"I haven't showered in nearly three days or brushed my teeth. My mouth tastes of cheap coffee, vodka and chips. My hair is like a ball of grease and my fringe is unspeakable. My clothes are beginning to irritate me and I just want to freshen up considering we left my case at your apartment."
Jackson listened to her small speech before he stood up, grabbing his bag from the overhead compartment as Amelia pushed herself from her seat. She stood up as he held onto the bag before he leant down to whisper to her again.
"I know exactly how much money is in there. Don't try anything," he warned her and she rolled her eyes, snatching the bag from his hand.
Jackson sat back down as she entered the toilet and turned his attention back to his paper before the couple to the side of him began to initiate conversation.
"Is your girlfriend okay?" the woman asked him. She couldn't have been more than thirty and her husband looked at least a couple of years older. Jackson turned to look at them as she continued to speak. "I noticed that she looked a little pale during takeoff so I thought I'd ask."
Jackson smiled back, wanting to keep a low profile and he nodded at her.
"She's fine. She's a nervous flyer," he simply spoke back before looking back to his paper, hoping that would end the conversation. He was right, thankfully. The woman turned back to her husband and rested against his side before they began to talk about what to do when they reached Spain.
It was another five minutes before Amelia graced Jackson with her presence. He stood up, taking the bag from her and seeing how she had brushed her greasy hair, tying it back again and placing her fringe to the side. Her glasses seemed to be on her face permanently at that moment in time, the black frames thick and bold against her small face.
"Are you wearing my shirt?" Jackson asked her, his hand moving out to touch the collar which was poking up from underneath her sweater. She nodded at him.
"I took my sweater off and managed to spill toothpaste onto my blouse. It felt dirty enough so I changed into yours. Calm down, it isn't like I stole the fifty grand in there, is it?"
"No," Jackson mumbled. "By the way, the couple next door think we're a couple."
Amelia rolled her eyes at him as he whispered to her and shrugged, suggesting that it wasn't his fault for the turn of events.
"Whatever you say, honey," Amelia replied, pinching his cheek to wind him up before she returned to her seat and the couple smiled at her before turning back to their own business. Jackson glared at the bag, resting it on the arm of his seat and opening it up, checking that everything was still there. His eyes widened as he saw the material sat on the top and he looked at her and she looked back at him and he slowly pulled a bit of the silken material out and she shrugged.
He rolled his eyes and dumped the bag back above their seat and sat down beside her, hissing into her ear.
"Why is that thing in my bag?"
"You try wearing a bra for three full days," Amelia muttered back to him. "It isn't exactly comfortable even for those of us with no chest to support. Can you tell?"
Jackson focused on the seat in front of him as Amelia shook her head and closed her eyes once again, trying to fall to sleep and Jackson had a quick glance down at her chest. No, he couldn't tell she was braless he supposed.
...
"Delayed?" Amelia checked and Jackson returned from looking at the board for the flight to Venice from Madrid. "How long for?"
"Two hours," he said and sat himself down on the bar stool opposite her at the small table which she'd found. She seemed to be a little perkier after a few hours of sleeping. Jackson was still entirely focused, his body running on sugar and caffeine as Amelia sipped on the diet coke he'd bought her.
"Well, that gives us time to talk," she declared and Jackson looked put out as she said that to him.
"What makes you think I want to talk?" he wondered and she rolled her eyes at him before gently kicking him under the table. The heat in Madrid was like being in LA and Amelia wished she could take her sweater off. But, his shirt and no bra wasn't a flattering look.
"I do," she replied. "If we're in this together then I want to know what it is you really do."
"I told you in New York," he reminded her and she shook her head.
"I was half asleep," she reminded him and he rolled his eyes.
"That's your fault then."
"Jackson," she complained. "You said something about being a manager, didn't you?"
"Yes," he confirmed. "I deal with assassinations which my firm wants me to carry out. I can't discuss the firm. You don't need to know about them."
"I don't want to," Amelia assured him. "I want to know why you do it."
"I need to make a living somehow."
"And doing this is the only option?" she wondered from him and he shrugged nonchalantly, not too bothered with what she thought of his lifestyle choice. It was easy money and the people weren't innocent.
"Bad things happen throughout the world, Amelia," he informed her. "I can't stop them from happening. If I didn't do my job then someone else would. There would always be someone else like me."
"But why you?" Amelia asked him with a shrug, holding the glass in her hands, the coolness refreshing as Jackson eyed her suspiciously. "Why do you do it?"
"The money is good," he admitted to her. "You've seen that."
"So is the money from being an accountant," she deadpanned and he chuckled at hearing her. "You can't enjoy your job."
"What makes you say that?"
"Well...people hate you...some might fight against you..."
"You're the first," he assured her. "I've never had anyone as spritely as you."
"I'll take that as a compliment," she nodded at him and he chuckled.
"I wouldn't," he responded. "I do what I do because the money is good and someone has to do it. Why not me? The majority of the people affected are bad anyway. There is no such thing as innocent."
"It's not your choice to decide who dies and lives, Jackson," Amelia told him.
"I guess this is an issue which we're going to have to disagree on."
"I just don't understand you, Jackson."
"And you never will."
...
A/N: I love the interaction between the pair of them! More action to come soon though so don't worry. Anyway, I would like to thank trudes193, LivinJgrl123 and esolo for reviewing the previous chapter! Much more to come! Please review