A/N: Ha! Bet you thought I was long gone. I've been here the whole time, trying to think of a decent culmination for this story that would lead nicely into the sequel (and thank God for those!) So this is the second to last chapter and reviews/CC would be much adored. Thank you in advance!

Xxx

Xxx

"But there is suffering in life, and there are defeats. No one can avoid them. But it's better to lose some of the battles in the struggles for your dreams than to be defeated without ever knowing what you're fighting for."

--Paulo Coelho

Lisa shivered in her flimsy clothing as they rushed to a waiting taxi, finding Amsterdam, if possible, even colder than London. She cursed the gray Dutch sky, wondering if the weather had forgotten if it was Christmas, wondering how she remembered it was Christmas in the first place.

She was probably going to die on Boxing Day, only a day after the festivities ended. She knew that had she been at home, her family's celebration would have lasted until New Year's Day, but here, in this dismal place lacking any sort of promise, her death would be the only occasion.

On the plane, holding Sarah's hand, she'd reached a numb sort of acceptance regarding her fate. Perhaps death would be a blissful relief to the agony she'd suffered over the past few years. Perhaps her father wouldn't miss her too much. Perhaps it wouldn't be as bad as she thought…maybe the Earth would continue spinning after all.

Jackson hadn't said much beyond the necessities. He hadn't looked much at her either, something Lisa found disconcerting as his eyes had rarely left her over their recent time together. It wasn't news to her that he lusted over her body; though he hadn't spoken the words it was obvious in his gaze and his mannerisms. While Lisa found herself completely unresponsive to Jackson Rippner the person, it could not be forgotten that he was, in fact, a man, and that his desires were not quashed by the boundaries of his career.

Nevertheless, he'd been remarkably distant, even for himself, since they'd left London. Nor had he been as snappish as usual, at least not to her. Sarah, with her quick tongue and constantly rolling eyes, had been an easy target, garnering Jackson's criticism every time she opened her mouth. Lisa had been spared.

A light squeeze on her knee drew her back to reality, and she gazed dimly at Jackson. "Yes?" She didn't even care that his hand lingered on her leg a second longer than was appropriate. It didn't matter, not at this point.

"When we get to the hotel, I have a few calls to make. After that, we'll take another short trip and then it's time for goodbyes. Got that?"

She shook her head. "Sarah. What about Sarah? Will she be home before I leave?"

"No. Her father will be arriving tomorrow as per agreement."

"Then I'm not leaving."

Jackson sighed as the cab pulled away from the curb, the driver nodding to his boss in the rearview mirror. "It's not your choice."

"You're right, it's my life. I'm not leaving Sarah alone with you."

"And why not?" Jackson turned to her, visibly annoyed

"Because I don't trust you, Jackson," Lisa found herself repulsive as the words that rolled off her tongue sounded remarkably exasperated, strangely wife-like, in a way. She paused before continuing scathingly. "You're not exactly the jolliest of all men."

Jackson shook his head and Lisa knew she was defeated, knowing Jackson thought he was allowing her to think she had a small victory.

They drove for several miles, halting only occasionally for the light traffic and occasional pedestrian. There weren't many; probably most were hunkered down in their quaint flats for the holidays, waiting out the wintry weather. Lisa could clearly see by the way the street signs curved in the wind, and the way the light dusting of snow seemed to scratch the surface of the pavement that it was not only cold but it was brutally windy. She observed this to Sarah, who laughed and told a silly joke about windmills, a topic she seemed quite fond of.

They came to a smooth, almost sliding stop in the middle of an apartment complex. Identical goliath structures towered over them from all sides, and Lisa felt as if she were shrinking knowing her fate inside of those buildings. Jackson tugged mercilessly on her arm, and Lisa took Sarah's hand. Jackson shook his head.

"No," he objected simply. Lisa frowned at him, pushing her bedraggled curls out of her face. "She's staying here. Leave the car running, Jeffrey. This won't take long. Come on, Leese."

"That's not fair," Sarah protested. She scooted towards the door as Lisa was pulled from her grasp. "I'm going, too--"

Before she could argue further, Jackson slammed the door in her face, turning his back to her. There was a muffled click was Jeffrey locked the doors, and Lisa ran to her friend. She felt sluggish, tired as she tugged futilely at the door handle, knowing there was no point. Knowing there was no use to her struggle anymore. Her body trembled in a blend of shivers and dry sobs, and Lisa didn't let go of the door handle until Jackson placed his hand over hers and gently pried it away.

"Leese," he demanded quietly, his voice so low that if the wind had been blowing any mightier she may not have heard him. "Let's go."

She obeyed, feeling not like a dog as she usually did in Jackson Rippner's presence but as a slave being led to her execution.

Jackson hadn't inflicted any lasting injuries on her, and he hadn't made any unwanted advances, advances that would certainly scar Lisa for the rest of her life had there been any. He hadn't forced her to do anything dreadful, at least not yet, and while she'd been involved in the deaths of several she hadn't killed anybody. Jackson had made sure that she left his care mostly unharmed, but she felt a bizarre sense of animosity towards him. She'd always hated him, spare that obvious hour or so in the airport lounge. But the new bitterness towards him felt different, different in that she felt strangely obligated to him, connected to him as only a slave is connected to a master. Yet he hadn't bound her in any way.

It was her emotions, she decided. It was his unrelenting control and torque of her feelings that made her feel so possessed. He had imposed upon her a forced reliance, and Lisa knew that even if she were heading home right now she would never spend a single day without thoughts of Jackson Rippner. His influence was unwanted but irreversible. She hated being so dramatic as to say he'd ruined her, but he wasn't exactly an overwhelming encouragement in her life, either. He merely exaggerated the qualities she already had, pulling and trimming out what made her the most uncomfortable, what had hurt her the most. He manipulated her.

"You manipulated me."

Jackson looked down at her as they huddled beneath the awning of the massive building. Jeffrey had decided to park the car in another location where Lisa and Sarah would not be able to see each other. The snow had turned into a thick rain, and Lisa's breath looked smoky before her face. "I didn't, Lisa. You had a choice the whole time."

"Did I?" Lisa asked, then changed her mind. "That's not what I meant. You played with my emotions, Jackson. You fucked me up more than I already was."

"Don't say that," he sighed. "I didn't do anything to you that the bastard in the parking lot hadn't. Don't blame me for what you couldn't fix in yourself. It's not my fault you're terrified."

"You're right," she admitted, pulling her jacket more tightly around her. She stepped away from him, at least as far away as possible on the steps. They stared at each other. "But it's your fault I'm here, isn't it? It's your fault I got involved in this whole goddamn thing in the first place. Do you think I really wanted to be involved in the murder of children, in the murder of a great man? Do you think I ever wanted to spend my Christmas with a sadistic maniac who doesn't even understand himself, let alone another human being?"

"If only you understood whose fault it really was, Leese," Jackson laughed acidly. "You'd be surprised to see that these people you trust, these people you hold such stock in, are actually the ones who betrayed you and cut you off from society and civility."

Lisa had moved discreetly closer to Jackson while he was lecturing, and as he paused to draw breath she slowly brought her foot to his groin and kicked harshly. He buckled and she ran, discarding her shoes as she did so, knowing the wedge would slow her down. Jackson stumbled after her; she hadn't looked but she could hear his labored breathing.

Lisa managed to find an abandoned alleyway, a dead end with a short chain link fence before another street boasting myriad business outlets. She had a foot up on the fence when she felt a pair of hands drag her back down, pulling her into a chest. They lost their balance and collapsed on the soiled, wet ground. Lisa cried into the pavement, wondering why everything always ended here. She always ended up on the ground, didn't she? She always found herself breathing in exhaust fumes, she always found herself next to a pile of cigarette butts or a discarded candy bar wrapper. She was also forced to the lowest reserves possible.

"Just carry me away, Jack," she breathed dejectedly. "Carry me to whoever it is that was ordered to kill me. End this now, just like you want to, finish me off, finish off all of your problems and forget about Keefe. Kill Keefe like you want to. Just finish it, Jackson, finish all of this and go to hell. I hope you're—"

She was interrupted by Jackson's mouth rapidly covering her own. He did not open her lips with his tongue but pulled away just as quickly as he'd kissed her, leaving Lisa to wonder if it had happened at all. She dragged in a breath of air, staring up into Jackson's eyes and wondering why she couldn't remember what she was planning to say. It was funny, she noted, because she'd imagined this ordeal happening so many times in the past, in different ways every time, but all with different responses. In some, she would punch Jackson brusquely in the face and force him away from her. Yet in others, she would submit to the kiss and the affairs to follow.

But now, she had nothing to say and she lay there, paralyzed, hurting.

"I don't want to kill you, Lisa," he said, his voice quiet and flat and strangely devoid of emotion. "And I don't lie. I've never wanted to kill you. You annoy the hell out of me and I would gladly beat you into unconsciousness but you don't deserve to die and I will hold that opinion. Keefe is another incident separated from you entirely. But you should not have been involved in this, and while I do not apologize, I wish it hadn't been you."

"Because you want to beat me into unconsciousness," Lisa interjected, and he shrugged.

"That," he muttered distantly. "That, amongst other things."

He pulled her to her feet and she followed him this time, dragging her numb, bare feet over broken glass and plastic but feeling absolutely nothing. A brawny, ruddy-faced man met them at the doorway to the building, and that was where Jackson let go of her hand. The man seemed perplexed.

"Jackson…are you sure this is her? I thought she was a spitfire."

"She was," he gently pushed her forward, and she stared at the ground. This isn't happening, Lisa, she told herself, staring at her bare toenails. You're walking into your father's house and you're not going to die yet. "Until now."

Jackson began to walk away, and Lisa watched him until he reached the corner. There, he turned slightly and looked at her, his penetrating blue stare making her eyes water. She recalled his lips on hers, she remembered his harsh words on the plane, and she cried. She thought about Sarah, and she thought about Melanie. She remembered Jackson's artsy ties and she smiled through her tears, but mostly, she cried.

This is the end of the line, kid, she told herself, thinking again of her hero, Inigo Montoya. Not everything ends with a bang, does it? Sometimes it ends with numbness and unfinished business. It doesn't always end with swordfights after twenty years of bitterness. It doesn't always end with true love.

Sometimes it just ends.