Disclaimer: sigh I don't own Elmo.

Chapter 2:

I know something you don't know

"Cynthia!"

Cynthia's eyes popped open. "Five more minutes…." She murmured, stuffing her face into her pillow. It hit her that this would not bode well with whoever had said her name.

"Cynthia…" sang the voice. Cynthia growled and got up.

"WHAT!" She screamed. The cold voice answered her, sounding angered and crazy.

"Cynthia!" The words echoed from the front of the apartment. "We need to talk."

He was in her house. Why was he in her house? Lisa had gone home yesterday…

Lisa—she needed to call Lisa. She should've done that before, when she saw him at the bar. She looked around for her cell phone—dammit, it was in the kitchen—and then she saw the bat.

She remembered going with Lisa to all those different things that she'd wanted to do after the Red Eye flight. Yoga, Tai Chi, Israeli self defense, everything. She picked the bat up tentatively. She could do this. She could.

Should she bash his head in? No, that was too messy. Not to mention hard to get out of the carpet—in more ways than one. Cynthia swallowed. Lisa knew him, knew how he worked, and knew how to fight this jerk. She got scared just watching Disney movies. But they were scary, because at least one person would die in all of the animations…

Arggh. Babysitting was getting to her.

"What the hell do you want?" Her voice sounded silly shouting, like she was playing a part in Scary Movie 4.

"I need your help." He jiggled the doorknob. "Let me in."

"Hah! Don't be stupid."

There was a soft chuckle. "I won't hurt you, Cynthia."

"But you'll hurt Lisa, won't you? You liar, you don't love her at all—"

Jackson growled. "How dare you—"

"Lovers don't try and KILL EACH OTHER!" Cynthia growled back.

There was a pregnant pause from behind the door. Then—

"I did love her! I watched her, I knew her! She was mine, but it was my job to—"

"Not to kill her!"

"She beat me! A little girl, a HOTEL MANAGER! Or," Jackson hissed, "Is that your job now? You're just a little dumb blonde, Cynthia—you couldn't hurt me if you tried."

"Oh yeah!" Cynthia shouted. She felt his presence close to the door, breathing out anger and ranting for all he was worth. He was psychotic. She steeled herself, gripping the bat hard, thinking.

"Yeah, Cynthia." He laughed cuttingly. "Too bad your grandmother hadn't died down in Dallas."

Cynthia's breathing sharpened, getting louder. "Shut up."

"Oh, Cynthia," Jackson sighed. "You're more naïve than I thought."

BANG!

Cynthia jumped as the door flew open. He'd been picking the lock the whole time. She swung the bat with all her strength, hitting his side, hearing things snap, crackle, pop sickeningly.

Jackson grabbed the bat, snarling. "Oh no you don't." He moved to grab her hand too, but Cynthia had let go of the weapon and was already running, trying to get for the phone. She scrambled her way down the stairs to the kitchen, looking for her cell phone.

Jackson sighed dramatically. Going through the best friend to get the girl was too much of a hassle, no matter what the movies said.

"I like your pajamas, Cynth! Real classy!"

Cynthia looked down at her Elmo T-shirt and shorts. Oh, yeah, duh. The crazed killer obsessed with my best friend sees me in my pajamas. Welcome to my life, thought Cynthia, exasperatedly.

"What do you want from me?" He was advancing, scowling and roaring like a lion.

"You didn't tell Lisa! Why didn't you tell her!"

"I didn't want her hurt!" Cynthia shouted, reaching into the fridge, grabbing the first thing she found.

A pineapple.

She grinned as a song ran through her head. Perfect. She spun around to look at Jackson coming down the stairs, and flung it at him with all her force.

"What the fuh—" Jackson's confused look fell as the pineapple smacked him upside the forehead, leaving bloody scratches. He winced and growled, running forward, only to have an eggplant flung at his face. This time he tried to catch it—which was a bad idea, which he found out only when it exploded all over him.

"Auuughh!" he shouted angrily.

"Ew." Cynthia said, disgusted, as she reached for the cell phone on the couch in front of her television. She was almost there when Jackson grabbed her from behind. His arms grabbed hers and brought them behind her, after which he put his other arm round her neck, poised to choke her.

Cynthia's chest filled with dread. She took a few shuddering breaths, then asked. "Why don't you just leave Lisa alone? Why do you need to hurt her? Why—"

"She screwed me over, Cynthia—I told you at the bar." Cynthia tried to turn to look at him, but he tightened his grip on her neck. She faced forward again. She had had a glimpse of his face—it had looked like he was struggling with something he had no idea about.

She pressed her lips together, choosing her words carefully. "You're obsessed. Not about the job. About her beating you. Because she's—" Cynthia was about to say "female", but then paused. "Because she's Lisa."

Jackson felt a cold front come on to his chest. That was it. She was right. Lisa had messed him up. Oh, he had worked with women before—but Lisa was both vulnerable and brave and she'd beaten him. She was easy to mess with and hard to figure out at the same time. She was…Lisa.

(Jackson sneezed, not knowing he was actually having an allergic reaction to all the fluff.)

Cynthia raised her eyebrows, realizing he himself hadn't known that. "There's much more to her than just being a hotel manager," Cynthia said. "But you know that, I suppose." She glanced at his neck, seeing a bandage.

Could he really love her?

Thoughts ran through her head as she concentrated on carefully trying to release herself from Jackson's slackened grip. She whipped around and pushed him against the wall, but then Jackson grabbed her throat and squeezed it vehemently.

Jackson scowled. "Why didn't you tell her?" He squeezed tighter, then let go abruptly, and Cynthia coughed and spluttered for air as he twisted her hands to her back once again.

"This is getting repetiti—"

"Why not!" He shouted, tightening his grip and Cynthia swallowed deciding to keep such things to herself.

"She's my friend, Rippner. I want her to be happy. I don't want her to end up falling for that stranger in the bar who tried to ruin her life, kill her father and her, and destroy her whole life in general."

"Tell her," Jackson said, turning the girl and pulling her chin up to his, staring into Cynthia's eyes, trying to send his meaning. "You have to tell her. Tell her I was here, that I know where you are, and I know that you two are great friends."

Cynthia swallowed. "Do you really love her, Jackson? If you do, then you'll leave her alone—"

"Maybe I don't, Cynthia, and Maybe I do. It all depends. But I won't leave her—she has the answer, doesn't she?" Jackson then pressed an exact pressure point on Cynthia's neck, rendering her unconscious. Her body became limp, and he dropped her a bit unceremoniously on the couch.

After all, it was for Lisa he was here, not her.

Author's Note: Well, I tried really hard with this chapter, trying to get Jackson better, along with his passion for Lisa. When I update this story next time, it won't be for sometime, since school's starting Thursday. strangled noise

Thank you to all my reviewers! You guys inspired me to write a second chapter!

You make me happy as a duck:D

kazakichik Yeah, I know—I hardly ever do that much angst (that's why this sucks, haha), so I don't have the patience to get them to "come together". All the stories just take so long!

thesupernugget I tried for angst here, and I hope it works. I had no idea my story was fluffy. I have never written fluff (intentionally) before. What a shock!

The Mercer Sister Yum. Overly obsessed Jackson. Wes should take a hint from all this fanfiction.

blueyedtears Yes, everyone LOVES Cynthia! "Shake it, shake it, you're so fantastic—" By the way, I LOVE your story! Especially the most recent chapter; it partially inspired this one!

The Nth Degree: LOL. I know what you mean. I never noticed that though, you're right! Except without the love at first sight. beat Wait, actually…

No One Mourns the Wicked: AHHH, IT'S ASHLEY! Do you know you're like a God among the Red Eye writers? We might even start a club—"We Mourn the Wicked"! Thanks for liking my story—I hope this one is as good as before and reaches the fluff mark, especially since it's intentional now.

Also, thank you to Chanal86, my first reviewer, and CLIU!