CHAPTER FOUR

Life went on. Lisa returned to the Lux after a week of bed rest, only to discover that the floor with room 4080 almost completely destroyed, and the Keefes dead. Cynthia confronted her about what happened on the plane. Lisa told her, nearly breaking down from regret, both about Cynthia's guilt and mostly about her lost chance with Jackson.

For a month, she wondered if Jackson ever thought of her. If the plane was any indication, she assumed he did. That led to her fear; she was scared of almost everything: planes, lilies, tall blue-eyed strangers, and more to the point, her feelings for Jackson.

One day, she was standing in a music store, browsing through their collection of ABBA, when she thought she glimpsed his reflection on the CD case. She had thrown the thing away from her as if it burned. Luckily, the disk hadn't been damaged; she bought it.

She listened to it every night before falling asleep.

Check-ups at the doctor's were extremely stressful. Lisa was required to take medication twice a day until she completely healed, and had to take at least one day off of work each week and avoid stress. Alcohol consumption was discouraged. She was told that although the possibility of drinking affecting her heart was low, there was still enough reason not to become inebriated.

That was the part that made her angry. Lisa had never been one to drink her worries away, but since the flight, she craved escape. After a particularly taxing day, she drove home intent on a glass of wine and a bubble-bath.

That idea, however, was scratched upon entering her kitchen and finding a bouquet of lilies on the table. Despite every fiber in her body telling her to grab her broom and go searching for that smug bastard, she merely grabbed her purse, turned around, and got back in her Nissan.

She drove to bar nearest to her house.

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Jackson watched as Lisa entered her house, anxious to find out how she would act when she found the flowers. He expected to see every light in her small house as she looked for him. That was why he was surprised to see her walk a bit unsteadily to her car and drive off. In five minutes, he pulled up to a small classy bar in time to see her stride through the door.

She left the place in ten minutes, clutching a bottle of champagne to her chest. He smirked all the way to her neighborhood.

He parked a few houses down the street. Glancing at the clock, he turned on some smooth jazz and leaned back, waiting. He gave her forty-five minutes until she was drunk off her feet.

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After the half an hour in which a bottle of champagne came into her possession, Lisa was ready to drop. Her head felt nice and light, and her entire body was warm. She hadn't felt this good since the bathroom…

Sighing in frustration, she picked herself off of the couch in her living room, kicked off her shoes, and jumped up, only to fall back down again. She was suddenly extremely dizzy. Giggling, she got up once more, this time slowly.

It felt too hot. She opened every window in her house.

Stumbling into her bedroom, she turned on the ABBA CD that she kept in rotation constantly. 'Dancing Queen' blasted through the speakers. Not quite being able to hear it, she turned the volume up all the way, and began shuffling her feet.

She didn't know how she managed it, but soon she found herself prancing down the hallway on the second level of her house, singing at the top of her lungs.

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Jackson looked at his watch. It was only thirty minutes after his arrival, but he somehow got the feeling that Lisa was already drunk. ABBA was coming out of all the open windows of the neat and tidy tan house up the street. He was certain that if the sound could carry all the way to his silver Beemer, than all of her neighbors would be able to hear it also.

Making up his mind, he stepped out of the car and walked to her front door. It was open. Deciding to have a little fun, he climbed through a window on the side of her house. He stalked to the landing of the stairs and caught a glimpse of curled brown hair flouncing around behind the low wall.

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Lisa's head was spinning, and it was getting to be abnormally hard not to stumble. She sat down, leaning her back against the closed bathroom door. Then 'Waterloo' came on, and she was compelled to get up once more.

"My my, at Waterloo Napoleon did surrender
Oh yeah, and I have met my destiny in quite a similar way
The history book on the shelf
Is always repeating itself"

She resumed skipping and singing as loud as she could. She spun around, but froze in mid-circle, finding a pair of icy blue eyes staring into hers. She blinked like a doe caught in the headlights, then shook her head. Finally she closed her eyes.

It's just a dream. Just the alcohol.

She opened her eyes; there he stood.

Lisa's craving for champagne came back full force. Pulling herself together as best she could, she pressed herself against the wall; she inched slowly towards her room: the bottle was lying on her bed.

All the while his eyes never left her.

She slipped into the room and grabbed the nearly empty bottle. Stumbling back to the hallway, she was surprised that he was still there. Lisa raised the alcohol and downed the remains in one gulp. He still stared, damn him!

Resolutely she walked up to him. She didn't know whether she wanted to slap him or kiss him more. Obviously it was the latter, because within three minutes of entering her house, Jackson Rippner was being kissed by a very drunk Lisa Reisert.

Lisa felt so nice. Jackson tasted so good. It all seemed right. That is, until she sensed him put hands around her waist and intensify the kiss.

All of a sudden she realized just who held her in his arms. That was when she started struggling.

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Jackson's POV

Well, I certainly never expected that. One minute she was staring at me like I was the Grim Reaper, and the next she was kissing me. She never showed this side of her in all of my weeks of watching her. I guess it was the alcohol.

Damn, she was a good kisser.

I felt myself drawing her nearer, circling her in my arms. She felt so good. My heart swelled.

Then out of nowhere, she began pulling away. I looked at her; she had tears in her eyes. And they were filled with fear. I let her go.

"Lisa?" I asked. She only shook her head and backed up. I walked towards her, but she started visible shaking. "Lisa, calm down. I won't hurt you," I told her as she slid down the wall behind her. She seemed to believe it, because the next minute she climbed into my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. I realized she was crying.

I hugged her, resting my chin on her head.

I wasn't one to comfort people, but it hurt me too badly to see her the way she was; so weak. I opened my mouth to say something, but she beat me to it.

"You're a bastard, you know that?" she asked tearfully. I wanted to say sorry more than I had ever wanted to do anything in my life.

My arms around her tightened. I raised her head so she would look me in the eyes.

Her eyes were red, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

God, she was beautiful.

And then she passed out.

I picked her up and carried her to her bed, turning her onto her side. After getting a bucket from her bathroom and turning the music off, I sat in the chair across from the king sized bed and fell asleep.

Author's Note: Well there you have it. The song is Waterloo by ABBA.