A/N: Well, here it is. I wrote a kick-ass epilogue and hit writer's block on the last chapter, go figure. So here's the last chapter of the fic. Obviously since the epilogue is already written, it won't take as long as usual for me to post it. :)

Chapter Seven

"Go," Julia said in a strangled voice, and Lisa didn't have to be asked twice. She'd never been so relieved to get out of a situation in her life. As she turned in the doorway, she saw Rebecca hit Jackson on the kneecaps with the Harry Potter book. It was almost comical. And then Cynthia dumped the water out of the vase on the ground.

"No--" Lisa whispered. It was an expensive vase, and she knew they'd get into trouble if-- too late. The vase ended up on his head, raining down on all its fury.

The chase was on.

Cynthia caught up to Lisa quickly, and they were halfway up the stairs before Lisa grabbed her friend's arm and bent over, out of breath. "I can't... too much pain..."

"Can you make it to the top?" she asked. "We'll get into the elevator. But seriously, we need to move because I hear footsteps." Cynthia allowed Lisa to hold on to her arm as the two of them made their way upstairs. The irregular footsteps from behind them revealed that it was Jackson, deterred by his limp.

"Where's everyone else?" Lisa asked. "You don't suppose they—"

"Think about yourself for a moment," Cynthia said shortly. "Now, here's the elevator." As they crossed into the hallway on the first floor, two scared faces met them just by the elevator. It was Julia and Rebecca. "Floor six?" Julia asked, out of breath. She was clutching Rebecca's hand as if afraid letting go would ensure her death.

Jackson came up right behind them, panting and coughing. The door thankfully opened like salvation, and the four women slid in, praying to whatever they prayed to the door would close before Jackson got in, too. Julia pressed button after button with trembling hands, breathing heavily.

The door shut just in time, and Lisa thought of leaving on the tram just ahead of him. She knew he was angry. "We have no plan," she said.

"We have to think of something," Rebecca said, frowning slightly. And then: "Why does he hate you so much?"

Lisa was taken aback. She'd been so focused on the fact that he hated her and not why. "It's always been that way. He wanted me to kill William Keefe and I wouldn't do it."

"Are you scared?"

Lisa nodded, not sure she could speak under the circumstances. 'Scared' seemed like an understatement.

"So, what are we going to do?" Cynthia asked, biting her lip. Large brown eyes looked at Lisa, as if she was their last bit of hope.

"I have no idea," Lisa said, truthfully.

"That's incredibly reassuring," Cynthia said, rolling her eyes.

The elevator stopped on floor six. The group met Jackson there, as Lisa knew they would. The others did what Lisa could not do alone. In mere seconds, he found himself surrounded by women. Glancing only at Lisa, he smirked. "Well done," he said finally. "What are you going to do to me?"

There was a long pause in which Lisa waited for someone else to come up with a plan. She wanted to tell him exactly what she wanted to do to him, but none of her ideas seemed very practical at the moment. Besides, he was staring at her and it was making her uneasy.

"Oh, I think it's up to Lisa to decide," Julia said, and now Lisa was aware of everyone looking at her.

"I don't know, Jackson. What's decent repayment?" she asked, feeling anger and despair well up inside of her. "Should I lead you on as if I find you attractive and then threaten you and those you love? Should I tie you up and do exactly what you did to me?" she found herself babbling on, desperate not to lose it. Bile rose in her throat. And then, with Julia and Cynthia holding him firmly on the spot, Lisa punched him over and over, hoping that for once he'd feel the pain he always made her feel. It was something she never thought she'd do, and she was sobbing by the time it was over. Out of breath. She turned away, unsure if the pain in her chest was real or emotional.

He was out of breath too, obviously. He limped madly towards her, but Cynthia and Julia restrained him again. "It didn't have to be this way," he said, looking coldly at her. Jackson smirked again. "You started it."

Lisa wanted to kill him. Killing was not in Lisa Reisert's blood.

"I'll strike you a deal," Jackson said. "You leave me alone and don't do anything else, I talk to my men and a few hostages go free. Can't let you go free, of course, because we like you so much, but I think we'll let a few go. The crowd breathes a sigh of relief until the next time we threaten to kill people in here."

Lisa's eyes narrowed. Although the situation wasn't ideal, a few freed hostages were better than none at all. "How can I be sure you're telling the truth?"

"Have I ever lied?" He said, smiling wider. Condescending son of a bitch.

"Yes," she said. "You lied right off the bat, about your name. And then you had the gall to call me a liar."

He looked as if he wanted to hit her, but refrained himself. "Yeah," was all he said.

"Yeah," she said back, uncertainly. "Go for it."

"Think about yourself for a change," Cynthia snapped at her. "Keep negotiating until they let you go, dammit."

Jackson snickered. "Always thinking about others first, huh? Probably until the day you die."

"Something you should do more of," Lisa snapped.

"Except I haven't been raped in a parking lot, kidnapped on a plane, and held hostage in a hotel," he whispered, so others couldn't hear him.

She was shaking. The last of her resolve was deserting her. "You going to release the hostages, or are you going to stay here and annoy me?"

He grinned. And then, he walked away. His suit was wrinkled.

The women followed him downstairs, dead silent.

The men were negotiating who would go free. In the end, it was an elderly woman and her two young grandchildren, since everyone decided they wouldn't last very long if the situation got worse instead of better. Lisa watched as the door opened and flashing lights went off. For some odd reason, Jackson seemed determined it was him who escorted the hostages out of the building.

Lisa winced at the brightness and heard the police yell distantly, "Don't come any closer if you value your life" or something to that effect. When her eyes adjusted, she watched as Jackson kept moving.

The gunfire went off like explosions in the warm Miami afternoon.