First of all . . . sorry for the evil cliffy! Secondly, BregoBeauty, please except my sincerest apoligies! I tried to send you this chapter, but the e-mail thingy wouldn't work! But don't worry, the next chapter WILL be e-mailed to you once the problem is fixed! So everyone please excuse the bad spelling and not-so-great grammer.

Enjoy . . .

"Lisa was sure that time had stopped then, everything seemed to melt together. The feeling that she had at the moment, was one she had experienced when her mother told her that her grandmother had passed on.

Was there even time for panic? Jackson's head was bobbing up and down, waiting for her to come and rescue him. She tried to move her legs, but quickly found out that they were as heavy as lead. Indeed the panic had set in.

Deep breaths! She told herself. This was not a time to start hyperventilating; the young man would surely lose his life if she stayed like she was.

Finally she found the strength to move her feet. One foot after the other, she made it to the side of the bathtub. It was then that she hoped Jackson was just playing an evil joke on her, that he would pop out of the water and say something obscene like he had done on the plane.

Knowing that it wasn't going to happen, she kneeled down. And the fact that she was kneeling in cold water that had escaped the linoleum tub didn't even register in her mind.

Lisa was not surprised when Jackson didn't move when her hands latched onto his swaying head. "Jackson," she called praying that he would respond. Her hope rapidly fluttered away when no answer was returned.

The young woman changed her position to holding his upper chest. She began pulling from his water prison, and was angry at herself when she realized that Jackson would not be escaping the tub just yet. Lisa had forgotten that his wrist was handcuffed to the metal soap holder.

Lisa kept a strong hold on the unconscious man as she searched her robe pockets. She bit her lip as tendrils of her hair fell down over her face, creating a wall that prevented her from seeing into her fuzzy yellow pocket.

When she finally got her hair firmly tucked behind her ears, she once again began searching for the answer that would give Jackson freedom. "This can't be happening," she mumbled almost bitterly at the realization that she had left the key on her nightstand downstairs.

Taking her pointer finger and her middle finger, Lisa placed her fingers on Jackson's neck and began searching for any sign of life. A tiny sound of distress broke from Lisa's lips when she didn't find the comforting thump against her fingers.

The heat radiating from him was much worrisome but his azure lips were just as disheartening. She would have to worry about that after she got him breathing again. Lisa had no choice but to let go of Jackson and hope that he would stay afloat long enough for her to go and fetch the key. Without looking back, Lisa ran down the hall and to the stairs. She took two at a time, pushing herself to go faster.

The dark stained door that was the entrance and exit to her room was thrown open harshly and made its protest as it smacked against the wall. Her feet skidded across the hardwood floor and she tried hard not to lose her balance. She leaned backwards on her heels and tried to slow her descent, but still she slammed into the nightstand.

A grunt of pain was given in memory of the accident, and a newly stubbed toe was recognized. The nightstand stood swaying in shrill recognition of the intrusion, only stopping its protests when a steady hand caught it.

Lisa's eyes latched onto the silver glinting key that hung half off of the baby blue nightstand. The tired woman breathed out a sigh of relief as she held the metal tightly in her fist almost daring it to jump up and run away.

"I'm coming Jackson!" she called, thudding anxiously up the stairs. She approached the bathroom door and gazed in to see that her guest had once again slipped into the pink tinted water. Lisa cursed and quickened her steps.

In mere seconds the handcuff was discarded. Lisa wrapped her arms underneath Jackson's upper arms and pulled him hard, letting his head loll against her shoulder. When he was lying flat, she tilted his head back and began compressions, breathing in his mouth a couple times, and then pumping his chest.

A gurgling sound broke through the heaving noise that came from the shocked woman. Water spewed from Jackson's mouth, as he expelled it by coughing.

Lisa gasped, and then turned Jackson on his side. She rubbed circles on his back, hoping to give him some comfort. She watched him closely, letting a soft smile grace her face as his eyes opened and wander around sluggishly.

When his eyes hit hers, he asked her a question. "What happ'ed?" he slurred, sounding like he had drank too much alcohol.

"You nearly drowned!" she exasperated. "You must have passed out when I was downstairs speaking with my father."

A frown shown clearly on the injured man. "This day jus' keeps getting better and better." With Lisa's help, the man sat up against the side of the tub. "I never liked taking baths, showers are much safer."

"How are you feeling?" Lisa asked him.

The cold blue irises stared right through her green ones, and she wondered if he was gazing into her soul. Finally he spoke, "Why are you helping me? You could have just left me to die and you . . . didn't"

Lisa suddenly felt extremely self conscious, and her eyes flew to her feet. "I suppose I saw something on the plane . . . something in you." Her eyes went back up to his and she found him looking fixedly down at his lap. "You're not a cold blooded killer are you? I think that you've spent your entire life trying to get people to believe that, but they'd be wrong."

"What makes you think that?" he asked, his eyes not leaving is particular target.

"You have a conscience," she whispered.

Now Jackson was fighting to get to his feet. When he accomplished the task, he began swaying back and forth. Lisa watched his actions, and realized that she had hit a soft spot.

"I've killed hundreds of people! I have no heart!" he blared angrily. He began limping g towards the door, when the small woman jumped in front of him.

"Where do you think your going?" Lisa inquired. He reminded her of a child throwing a tissy fit, but she still felt herself become a little intimidated by his agitated attitude.

Jackson's eye twitched in anger and his jaw clenched tightly, and he tried desperately to stop a rude retort from coming from his mouth. He grabbed Lisa's forearms and pushed her against the wall before she could react.

He was pushed so close against her, that they're noses were nearly touching. Lisa instantly remembered when he had done this in the airplane bathroom. She observed that his eyes shown a hardness that was familiar to her, but only because when he was agitated on the plane, a similar look had plastered his face.

"You know absolutely nothing about me, so I suggest that you hold your tongue before making assumptions about me." The moment of peace experienced only a few minutes ago by both man and woman was gone, and an angry silence filtered the room.

"You need to get out of these wet clothed before you get hypothermia." Lisa changed the subject and escaped his death grip. She wrapped her arms around the clothes that had been discarded and threw them into Jackson's opened arms.

Avoiding Jackson's eyes, Lisa excused herself from the room, and went to locate a needle and thread.

TBC . . .