The day had been an uneventful one. Lisa had interviewed all possible candidates, and had it narrowed down to two applicants. Both were well qualified, and their references had spoken highly of them. Now it was just a matter of narrowing it down to the one she felt would be right for the hotel, as well as who she thought would get along best with the rest of the lobby staff. The sun was just beginning to set, its final rays casting an eerie orange glow on the lobby as Lisa stood behind the front desk, studying both applications. It was quiet right now. Cynthia was in the middle of checking in a guest, when the phone rang, so Lisa took the call.

"Lux Atlantic, this is Lisa. How can I - ?"

"Lisa Reisert?"

Lisa frowned as the man on the line interrupted her. She didn't recognize the voice. "Yes? This is Lisa Reisert."

"Miss Reisert, this is lieutenant Stephen Riley of the Miami-Dade County Fire Department. I'm sorry to bother you, but there seems to be a situation at your apartment…"

Time seemed to slow. Lisa reached behind her, trying to grasp for a chair. She needed to sit down. Her apartment? God… Jackson…? Her legs shook slightly, and she turned to look for one of the chairs they kept behind the desk. It wasn't there. And Cynthia. Where had Cynthia gone? She was just here…

"M-my… My apartment?"

Where the hell was that damn chair?

"Yes ma'am. It seems there was a gas leak in the apartment just below you, but we had to get into your apartment too. Just to make sure there was no similar problem up there… And to ventilate the place. Just in case, you know."

Oh thank God. Lisa sighed with obvious relief, her hand visibly shaking. She found a chair and wheeled it over, sinking into it immediately. A gas leak. That was all. He just wanted to let her know about a leak in her building. That was all it was. And she'd been so certain it was going to be so much more serious. She laughed softly, putting a hand to her forehead. She was supposed to be past the jumpy point.

"Ma'am?" he sounded concerned.

She shook her head, even if he couldn't see it. "I'm sorry. I've had a bit of a rough day." Completely untrue, but much less messy than the 'I was so afraid the assassin that threatened my life on this red-eye flight two months ago had come back and set fire to my apartment in attempt to get back at me for stabbing him in the throat and shooting him within an inch of his life' story. "Is everything okay there?"

"Yes ma'am. We have the situation completely under control. We're just packing up to leave now."

He said something else, but Lisa was still too busy chiding herself for jumping to the worst possible conclusion to catch what it was. "Listen, did you have any trouble getting inside? I just changed the locks, and I know that the top one's a bit tricky to – "

He interrupted her with a slight chuckle. "Oh no, ma'am. Like I said: your boyfriend let us right in."

----------

She didn't even get a chance to keep him on the line. She was completely frozen with terror.

Jackson.

The fire lieutenant had already hung up.

Lisa couldn't do anything more than drop the phone, which by now was protesting harshly at being left off the hook for so long after the other party had hung up. He had been in her home. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw things. Thank God she was already sitting down.

"Lisa?"

Cynthia's worried voice cut into her thoughts.

"Lisa, oh my gosh. You're whiter than a sheet! What happened? Who was on the phone? Is everyone okay?"

Lisa stared out blankly into space. She had a decision to make. Tell Cynthia or no? Cynthia, who'd listened to every story in vivid detail about that flight… eventually. The stories had come eventually. It had taken Lisa weeks to open up to her friend. She wasn't sure she was ready to revisit the memories. But she couldn't lie to Cynthia.

"I think he came back, Cynthia. I think… I think he was in my apartment."

The redhead watched her silently a moment, before realization dawned. "Oh my gosh. That… Jackson? Oh my gosh, Lisa." She pulled up a chair, and Lisa was grateful there was a lull in lobby activity. "How do you know that? Are you sure?"

Was she sure? Who else could it have been? Who else would have had the ability to break into her apartment, and then the gall to open the door to the fire department, and tell them he was her boyfriend? That ballsy bastard. It had to be him.

"Yes…" She took a deep breath, and then relayed the conversation she'd had with the fire lieutenant.

"Oh my gosh. We have to call the police, Lisa. He might still be in the area. And you'll need to change your locks again, if he can get into your place now… Or better yet, we should see if you can move to a different apartment. He might still be around. But oh – let's call the police and they'll find him. Maybe you should stay with me for a few days…" Cynthia was going a mile a minute.

Lisa shook her head and held up a hand, still a bit numb. "I can't move in the next few hours, Cynthia. Let's just take this one step at a time."

"Right. The police."

Cynthia was already dialing as Lisa cleaned up the desk in front of her. She had to go to the apartment. She would have to talk to the police there, as well as make sure that nothing was out of place. God, what if he had taken something? She wasn't sure she could handle the psychological effects of knowing he had taken something of hers.

"Okay. The police will meet you at the apartment. They'll go in and check it out, and then take a statement from you, I guess…" Cynthia watched her friend worriedly, her doe-eyes wide with concern. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Lisa smiled and shook her head, grateful for Cynthia.

"No, I'll be okay with the police there. You need to stick around and make sure nothing blows up here." It had become a bit of a sick joke between the two of them, referencing the exploding suite. Despite the severity of that situation, no one had been hurt, and it had proved to create a strong bond between the two women. Of course, when they used that running gag, it usually didn't involve any of the other characters from that day…

Cynthia smiled tightly and took Lisa's hand. "Okay, Leese. You just call me if you need anything."

"I will. Thank you, Cynthia." Lisa already had her purse in hand and was heading for the elevator. For the past two months, the hotel had let her park in the garage spot nearest the elevator doors so she didn't have to cross a big lot to get to her car. So it was merely a matter of exiting the elevator and crossing the fifteen feet to get in her vehicle. She locked her doors and sank deep into the driver's seat before she started the engine. She couldn't quite put her finger on why she felt so nervous. The police would be there first. If he was there, they would find him and – oh, who was she kidding? They wouldn't catch him if he was there. He'd escaped them once before while being nearly comatose. Surely he'd be long gone by the time they arrived.

Of course, she'd thought that two months ago, too, and now he'd come back.

But she wondered, a twisted part of her piped up in the back of her mind, if what was really making her so shaky was the fact that police might have scared him off, and now she might not hear from him for another two months.

----------

By the time she got home, the police had scoured the apartment twice, and hadn't found any trace of an intruder.

They took down her statement, confirmed by Stephen Riley of the Miami-Dade Fire Department, and then let her search the apartment to see if anything was missing or out of place.

For the most part, nothing seemed to have been touched. She went through the kitchen, living room, the spare bedroom that also served as an unused office… Not a thing had been touched. But he had been here. Riley had confirmed it. Tall, skinny guy, dark hair… blue eyes. It made her blood run cold to think he'd been here, in the place she felt most safe.

"Anything missing, ma'am?" the younger officer's voice was flat, hard to read. He probably thought she was crazy. But she wasn't crazy. He'd been here. She just had to check one more room.

"Not that I can tell so far…"

He didn't answer, and she continued on to her own bedroom. What had he done in here, she wondered. Had he gone through her closet? Lain down on her bed? She shivered and made a mental note to wash every single bed linen as soon as possible. Better yet, burn them. And buy a new mattress.

But the bed looked untouched, and Lisa let out a shuddering breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Nothing was different. Everything was in the pristine condition it had been in when she left this morning. She sighed and brushed the hair out of her face, then headed back to the main room of the apartment. The two police officers looked up as she entered, and she smiled sheepishly. "Everything's here."

The older officer smiled at her, and she was reminded briefly of her father. She should call him. "We'll keep an officer posted outside the building tonight, just to make sure, but we recommend, given the circumstances, that you stay elsewhere tonight. Do you have a friend you can stay with, or a hotel…?"

Lisa nodded absently, thinking back on Cynthia's earlier offer. She definitely did not want to stay in some lonely hotel room by herself, Lux Atlantic though it might be. And she did love her father, but she couldn't imagine staying there either. Too many memories of that day still lingered there… "Yeah. I do."

The younger man nodded curtly and headed for the door, while the older officer stayed back a moment. "If you'd like, we can stick around while you pack some things and then escort you to wherever you decide to stay."

Lisa smiled, genuinely. "Thank you, officer. It's very kind of you to offer, but I think I'll be okay."

"Well, if you're sure…"

She smiled again, once more reminded of her father. "I am. Thank you." He nodded and touched his hat as he left, and her smile broadened slightly at the gesture.

She was sure she'd be okay. Some guttural instinct told her that she was safe. No one was here now. And all she had to do was pack a few things and hop right back into her car. It would be another three hours or so before Cynthia got off work, so she could go back and work until Cynthia was done. That way she could get her mind off of things. And besides, a few overtime hours wouldn't hurt her bank account… Decision made, Lisa headed back into her bedroom to pack an overnight bag.

She had everything packed except for something to sleep in within the course of fifteen minutes. Her favorite oversized t-shirt wasn't in her closet or her bathroom, but that wasn't completely unusual. It was one of the things she deposited just about anywhere as she hurried to get ready for work. Lisa set about searching the room for it. Not on the floor, or that chair… Maybe she'd stuffed it under a pillow? She did that sometimes. An old childhood habit that was hard to break. Lisa lifted first one, then the other pillow on her bed –

- And gasped in horror.

There, on the mattress under her pillow, was the silk burgundy scarf.

Lisa dropped the pillow as if it had burned her, stumbling back away from the bed and diving to the side of it to grasp the field hockey stick she'd brought home with her from her father's house. He wasn't here, she was sure of it, but she brandished the stick like a weapon nonetheless.

Oh my god, oh my god… No…

She inched forward in a semi-crouch, every muscle tensed as she moved to get a better look at the offending item.

There was no mistaking it. A long, thin slip of silk burgundy fabric, stolen right off the neck of the blonde woman on the plane, who'd provided a much-needed (albeit useless) distraction as she'd tried to leave a message for the elderly woman in the Dr. Phil book. He'd used it to cover the wound she'd given him… And this was the genuine article, she thought as she prodded it with the stick. She had no doubt of it. There were bloodstains all over the scarf; long-dried, but still there.

Lisa couldn't help herself. She set the stick down and reached forward to pick up the scarf. She stared at it a long moment in her hands, studying the stains, feeling the soft fabric. That twisted part of her piped up again, daring her to smell it – would it still smell like him?

She stuffed the scarf hastily into her duffle, zipped it up, grabbed the field hockey stick, and made a near-dash for her door. She had to get out of here. Get to the hotel. She could reorganize her thoughts there, where she wouldn't have to worry about whether or not he was lurking behind her bedroom door.

She couldn't stop herself from thinking about him the whole way there.

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Author's Notes:

I had no idea I had blocked anonymous reviews! I'm sorry. Jeeze, I'm such a blonde sometimes. Anyway, you guys are the best. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews.

Silentsister: Well, I hadn't said anything about it, but I do love me a Lisa/Jackson pairing… I just don't see it as a "love at first sight" situation. Which, luckily, most fans realize, too. There are definitely a lot of issues between them, but I do have a plan for the direction of this story (never write without one!), and it has a lot to do with the syndrome I took the title from. ;)

Chanel86: I don't give anything away in my notes, I'm sorry. ;) But thank you, and thank you for telling me about the review thing, or I never would have known.

Also, big thanks to Winged Seraph, Asanji, blueyedtears, Alixa Lightz, and Faith Catherine!