Author's Note: Once again, merely saying thank you doesn't seem to be enough to express my gratitude for all of the reviews. I appreciate the feedback so much! Here's the next chapter and I trust that you'll let me know if I slip up. I'll stop my yakking now and let you read. I hope you enjoy and don't forget, as always, to let me know what you think!

Chapter Eight: Reunion

Every sense in Lisa's body sharpened and came to full alert as red flags went up all through her mind. She hesitated at Daniel's question; just a beat too long. She gave him time to speak again.

"Jake told me that Butch said you were reluctant to come back here." He said, taking a step toward her. His eyes had taken on an unfamiliar and dangerous glare. Lisa felt fear creeping like a slug up the back of her throat. She swallowed, fighting the sensation, choking it back down. She couldn't remember having ever seen him like this. She pulled on her left tennis shoe. "So, I'm a little confused, Lisa. Why would you be so apt to stay with this man, Lisa? You wanna explain that to me, Lisa?"

Her fingers trembled as she fumbled with her shoe laces. Rape, assassination coercion, and now this! Fate seemed bound and determined to turn her into a victim.

Yeah, well, Lisa thought.

Daniel jerked her up to her feet, "Tell me, LISA!"

Fuck fate!

Lisa shrieked and shoved him away from her. He landed with a bounce on the bed on his back. Lisa grabbed her other shoe and raced for the door before he could right himself. Once she was out the bedroom door, Daniel call out the dogs. "Catch her!"

Blade was the first to make an attempt. Good thing he wasn't the smartest of the bunch. Using the foot that was actually in a shoe, she kicked him in the knee, then hit him in nose with the other shoe that she still held in her hand. She seemed to be finding herself wearing only one shoe more often than not tonight. Blade stumbled back and fell down the steps, landing firmly on his rear. Lisa leapt over him. Next was Butch. A simple lamp to the head took care of him for the moment. It shattered over his skull and he was out before he had even hit the floor. Then, came the only one she really had to worry about. Jake. Jake, who actually possessed some semblance of intelligence; not to mention the brute strength to back it up. Lisa faltered a step as Jake took up position in front of her. Tricky situation, this one.

Lisa sidestepped; Jake countered. Lisa sucked her lungs full of air and then blew it out again, willing her body to calm down. She could do this. Hell! She had bested Jackson Rippner! This buzz cut Neanderthal should be no problem.

Behind her, Lisa heard Blade getting to his feet. She had bloodied his nose, but apparently she hadn't hit him hard enough to take him completely out of commission. Great. Now she had to deal with both the Neanderthal and the nitwit at the same time. Her mind speedily hatched a half cocked plan. Maybe, just maybe, she could make this work to her advantage. They came at her together. She had known that they would. Since she had anticipated their joint effort, she ducked down, dropping to her knees. Like a scene out of a cartoon, the two men slammed into one another and bounced backward off of each other. Lisa took her chances with the distraction. She darted around Jake, but he reached out from where he had fallen to the floor and encircled her ankle with his long thick fingers. The result was more than inevitable. She went down. Hard.

The plan had been a gamble at best, but she had had to try. Now, she lay on her side and kicked at Jake, but her bare foot did little damage. Daniel came bursting from the bedroom. The look in his eyes, which to Lisa had always been so kind, sent her even further into a panic. She needed to get out of that room, and she needed to get out at once. She twisted onto her rear end and scooted down closer to Jake, bending her knees. She braced herself on her hands before thrusting her leg in a downward motion, the heel of her foot connecting solidly with Jake's face. Nothing like a fresh threat to really inspire a person's inner muse. Jake released his grasp on her leg and covered his face with both hands, moaning into his palms.

Lisa scrambled to her feet as Daniel closed the distance between them. She pulled the door open as soon as she reached it, only to have it slam closed again by Daniel's outstretched arm. With his free hand, he spun Lisa around to face him and shoved her back against the door, the back of her head smacking against its hard wooden surface. A strangled hum of pain squeezed through her closed lips and she squeezed her eyes shut tightly to fight off the oncoming headache. Who was this man? Because he sure as hell wasn't the man that she had agreed to spend the rest of her life with. That man had been kind. Sure, he was a little over attentive, but he had never been cruel. Now, he was knocking her into walls. She was suddenly taken back to her house on that fateful day when Jackson had slammed her into the wall just before pitching her over the stairway railing. The memory almost made her smile because once again she realized…she had been through a whole lot worse that the likes of Daniel Davis would ever be able to put her through. On his best day, Daniel couldn't scare her the way that Jackson had. She opened her eyes and stared him down, challenge burning brightly in their dark green depths.

"Lisa, cupcake," Daniel said, his tone soft and calm, "I don't want to hurt you. You know I wouldn't hurt you."

"Really, Danny," Lisa snapped, "Cause I gotta tell you, having my head bashed back against a door kind of hurts."

Daniel smiled at her, but it wasn't his smile. It was the twisted smile of someone different; someone malicious and sadistic; someone that Lisa had never met. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry about that." He said, his voice still the freaky calm tone. He didn't pull it off quite as well as Jackson did, but it was effective nonetheless.

"I'm sorry, too." Lisa said.

"For what?"

"For this." With that, Lisa brought her knee crashing upwards directly into Daniel's balls. Once he doubled over, she punched him in the face, once. Twice. Then, she leaned back against the door, put her foot on his shoulder, and shoved him backward with all of her might. Daniel fell to the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest and his hands between his thighs. Lisa flung the door open and sprinted through it and down the hall. She hit the button for the elevator, but she didn't wait for the doors to open. She was really starting to hate elevators. Instead, she opted for the stairwell, pausing just long enough to slip into her shoe. She thumped down the steps as quickly as she could, sometimes two at a time.

She felt like she had already taken ten flights, when she heard the hastened footsteps coming from above her. She had hoped that she would have had more time. She had hoped that they would think that she had jumped the elevator. She had hoped that maybe all four of them would keel over from sudden unexplainable heart failure all at once, but like usual, what she hoped and wished for had little effect on reality. She saw a sign that had the number 28 printed on it in big bold black print and remembered a snippet of conversation with Daniel. Level 28 was off limits because it was under construction of something along those lines. Making her mind up, she ducked inside; closing the door as quietly as she could.

Meanwhile…

Jackson blinked open his eyes, wincing at the painful throbbing in his head. He reached a hand up and touched the bump that had formed beside his temple, just above his ear. When he retracted his hand, his palm was smudged with blood. That bastard had cold cocked him! Oh, he would pay for that. Just as his mind began running over all the various ways he had been trained to torture people, it dawned on him. Lisa! Where to hell was Lisa?

Okay, he thought to himself, she wouldn't let those idiots keep hold of her for long. She was too damn smart for that. All he needed to do was figure out where she would go once she had escaped. He sprang up to his feet and was out the door, ignoring the lightheadedness that nearly overtook him as he rose. If there was only one useful thing that his training had done for him, though there were actually very many, it had taught him how to ignore physical pain for incredibly long periods of time. He didn't have time for the pain.

Something hit him belatedly. Lisa wasn't the only one missing. Where was Neela? Just like with the pain, he didn't have the time to worry about Neela. Neela could deal with Neela. And though she could be a little absent minded at times, he had trained her well. She was a big girl who could more than adequately take care of herself. Right now, he needed to focus on Lisa. He needed to find Lisa.

As for his job, he considered it to be on hiatus.

Funny. He had always been the ultimate professional. The job came before everything else. He went in cold, untainted, emotionless. Even others in the same line of work as him thought that he was one heartless scary son of a bitch. There were benefits to having the people you work with be terrified of you. One petite redhead and all of that went right out the window. He acted out of anger, jealousy, desire; he let his emotions outweigh his better judgment.

Lisa's eyes darted back and forth, taking in the hallway. It was…well, eerie was probably the best word to describe it. Half of the walls were missing, there were no doors at all, and practically everything was draped in large plastic sheets. The ceiling tiles had been ripped out, leaving the entire level very poorly lit. That, and the lights that were there tended to flicker on and off. It was like a scene from some B rated horror movie and Lisa did not appreciate having the starring role.

She stepped slowly and carefully over the plastic covered floor, paying attention to any noises around her. If someone came in, she wanted to know it. Her eyes landed on a forgotten toolbox, and she removed a heavy claw hammer from it. It wasn't much, but she worked with what she had. She tucked it into the side of the waistband of her jeans and continued making her way through the hall.

The light sound of plastic crinkling made her spin around, her breath catching in the back of her throat. No one there. She released the breath. Just her mind playing more stupid tricks on her. She shook her head at herself and turned back around.

Blade smiled at her.

With a gasp, Lisa spun again on her heel, every intention of making a break for the stairs. Butch had appeared, like Blade, from out of nowhere.

"Ms. Reisert." He acknowledged as Blade wrapped around her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides.

"Let me go!" Lisa hissed, earning an amused laugh from Butch.

"Wait a second, wait a second, wait a second!" A familiar voice sang, "Let me get this straight…"

Lisa smiled as she saw Butch's eyes widen, then narrow as he focused his attention on the other side of Blade. Blade turned around, holding Lisa in front of him like a human shield. Jackson stood there, hands on his hips, a look of false thoughtfulness on his handsome face.

"It's Butch…" he continued, "And Blade, right? Let me guess, you had to start working for Davis when the WWF turned you down?"

In an instant, Blade had dropped one arm from around Lisa and drawn his gun. He had it aimed at Jackson's head. Jackson responded with a simple smirk and a roll of his shoulders. Preparing himself for action, Lisa thought.

"Easy there, juice monkey." Jackson said, with a slick grin, "Not to sound cliché, but, all I want is the girl."

At this point, Butch had also pulled out his gun and trained it on Jackson as he stepped out from behind Blade.

"A man of few words. I can respect that." Jackson said as he held his hands up in what appeared to be a gesture of surrender and Butch moved around behind him, fixing the gun not an inch from the back of his head. Lisa discreetly quirked an eyebrow at Jackson and he tossed her a sly smile. It was almost frightening how easy it had been for them to fall into step with one another. But then again, for the past two years, neither of them had thought about hardly anything but each other. Hell, the fact that they were so in tune with each other's thoughts was practically a natural occurrence. One could even go so far as to call it inevitable.

Lisa swiftly pulled the hammer from her waistband and swung it down into an unsuspecting Blade's kneecap. Blade howled as the bone of his patella shattered and his knee bent back in the wrong direction. At the same instant, Jackson spun around, catching Butch by the wrist so he fired through the many layers of plastic before the bullet finally hit sheetrock. He punched Butch in the mouth and then kicked him in the stomach with the flat of his foot.

Blade released his hold on Lisa as he dropped to the ground and she swung her weapon down again, knocking the gun from his hand and sending it skittering across the floor. Then, using the flat side of the hammer, she whacked him across the face, sending blood flying from his mouth. He tried to crawl back away from her, his movements faltering due to the odd angle of his leg but Lisa moved with him. She wielded the hammer like a baseball bat, connecting its backside with his ribcage, the clawed teeth puncturing his side. He screamed again and fell completely to the floor, clutching his hands to his bloody side. Lisa, doubled over at her waist, put her foot on his stomach and pulled the hammer from his side as though it were a pickaxe. She straightened herself, taking in deep gasps of breath as she looked down at him, surveying what damage she had done. He may be in a lot of pain for quite some time after this, but she didn't think that he would die from any of the wounds that she had inflicted upon him. Her eyes traveled down to the lower part of his body. She winced when she saw that his bone had popped through the material of his pants. She dropped the bloodied hammer and turned away from him, unable to bear the sight anymore.

Jackson twisted Butch's wrist until he dropped the gun, screaming through clenched teeth at Jackson. He rammed his free fist into Jackson's ribs. Once. Twice. Three times. Jackson let out a grunt with each blow, but didn't release the other man's hand. He did let go with one hand, only to immediately close it around Butch's neck. He used the momentum of his body to turn them both. Throwing Butch off balance, he was able to slam him into the floor. Once he had him down, Jackson planted his knee into Butch's chest to hold him to the ground and reached for the knife tucked safely at his back. Butch reacted at once to the sight of the K-bar, bringing his own knee up hard into the small of Jackson's back. Jackson arched with a groan and Butch shoved him off of him and leapt to his feet. When Jackson twisted onto his knees, Butch kicked the dagger away from him. Lisa, who had been watching from the sidelines, attacked Butch from behind, but he easily threw her off of him and she landed with a thud. Jackson had moved to retrieve his knife, but Butch tackled him before he could get to it. He straddled Jackson's hips and pressed his thumbs into his Adam's apple, cutting off Jackson's air supply. Jackson writhed beneath the weight of the bigger man, but he couldn't seem to get out from under him and his knife was too far for him to reach. His eyes darted back and forth, desperation shining heavily behind them. Desperate was not something that Jackson did well. He had rarely allowed himself to be put in the position where it was an option. He needed to push it back down. Calm down. Focus. That's when he spotted a toolbox. The very same toolbox, in fact, from which Lisa had drawn her weapon; and it was just within an arm's length.

Lisa pushed herself up from the ground slowly, her joints stiff and uncooperative and screaming in protest at the idea of any movement. She ignored the pain as best she could and continued to lift herself up. She had just gotten to her knees when she saw how Jackson's face had begun to turn blue. No, she thought. She had to help him. She had to do something. Sucking in a deep breath, she felt her fingertips brush against and then close around the handle of the hammer.

"Hey, Butch!" Lisa called.

The bulky man glanced over his shoulder at her just as she hurled the heavy tool in his direction. It struck him in the middle of his back, causing him to cry out and loosen his grip of Jackson's throat. The cry didn't last long though. As soon as Jackson saw his chance, he rammed the flat head screwdriver from the toolbox up through the underside of Butch's chin. He stilled instantly and his body sagged completely limp on top of Jackson. With a groan of effort, Jackson rolled the lifeless body off of him and climbed to his feet. Lisa stared at him, her entire body shuddering as she breathed in great heaves and fought the urge to cry. Jackson looked into her eyes, which glistened with unshed tears, and he had the strangest, unfamiliar impulse to hold her and tell her that it was going to be okay. He stifled it, shoved it aside, and ignored it. There were still things that required his special brand of attention.

Lisa could not believe the feeling of relief that flowed through her when she realized that Jackson was okay. But, at the same time, she felt queasy after watching him kill a man with a screwdriver. A screwdriver! Yes, the man had been trying to kill him, but it still just made her feel so uneasy. There for about five seconds in his hotel suite, she had let herself forget about his brutality. The sound of Blade moaning in pain behind her was the only noise, now. It filled her ears. It was a sound that she was certain would stay with her for the rest of her life. She didn't want to believe that she had been the one to cause another human being to make those God awful sounds. Jackson stooped over and picked up Butch's gun from the floor. Then, without so much as word, he walked past Lisa and she watch in horror as he fired three bullets into Blade's head.

As soon as the third shot was fired, Lisa realized that she was running. She hadn't even noticed it when her feet had started to move, but her body had told her to get the hell away from Jackson Rippner. Blade had been completely immobile; there was no reason to kill him. There was no reason to shoot him that many times. She couldn't be near Jackson, he was too dangerous. How could she have let herself forget who he really was? What he really was? He was still Jackson Rippner and he was a killer. Beautiful or not, it didn't change the fact that he was indeed a cold blooded murderer.

She hadn't made it barely ten steps when she felt him at her heels; felt his hot breath on the back of her neck; and then he had her. He caught her around the waist and pulled her up just short of the door to the stairs. She kicked her feet backward at his legs and clawed at his hands, but he held tight.

"Lisa. Lisa." He said into her hair. His voice had taken on that soothing tone that she had heard from him earlier. How could he speak to her like that after what she had just witnessed him do? "Lisa, calm down. Please, calm down. I'm not the one trying to hurt you this time."

Oh, how she wanted to believe him. Every bone in her body was aching to believe him. But, how could she? The words he said and that sweet hushed tone in which he said them stirred something inside of her; reopening an old wound that had never fully healed. It hurt and she couldn't bear to suppress it any longer. It took too much energy that she didn't have. The tears came.

"But you do." She said, hating how weak her voice sounded even to herself. She stopped fighting him; stopped struggling. Instead, her body sagged back against him, giving in to the sadness and exhaustion. "All you do is hurt me."

Jackson didn't say anything. There was really nothing that he could say. She was right and there wasn't anything that he could say at that moment that would make everything he had put her through okay. So, with a breath of momentary self loathing, he kissed her hair and held her to him, offering her his strength. As he felt her shoulders trembling against him from her sobs, he realized that he was more determined than he had ever been. He was going to be there for her. With every breath that he had in him, he would protect her. He would guard her against anything, if she would let him. He may not be capable of being that sweet, tender boy next door that you bring home to meet the parents, but he could sure as hell make certain that no one else was ever able to hurt her again. Then, as if she had read his mind, Lisa spun around and threw her arms around his neck. She buried her face in his chest and cried into his shirt, twisting her fists into the expensive material as though he were her only lifeline.

He didn't tell her that everything was going to be all right, because he didn't know if it would be. He just held her tightly and possessively and let her cry. She needed to. She just needed a moment to let out some of the steam. After another moment, his jaw tightened in a second bout with self loathing when he had to push her away from him slightly. He took her face in his hands and forced her to look up at him, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. As they looked at one another, the past didn't matter anymore. Not between them.

"We need to keep moving, Leese." He said, forcing his voice to be neutral, "Suck it up."

Lisa's eyes narrowed and she glared at him as he had known that she would. However, he also knew that her anger would give her fuel to burn. It would give her the energy that she needed. She could feed off of anger. It was more productive than sadness. All sadness did was drain the body of its much needed adrenaline. With anger, she could be proactive. He took her by the hand and lead her down the hall, gathering his knife and both Butch and Blade's guns as they went. He paused only to check the two dead men for extra clips, only finding one on Butch. They went into the stairwell and down one flight, then Jackson lead them to the elevators in the hall. He pushed the button and as they waited for the car, he turned to face Lisa.

"Okay, crash course." He said, holding one of the guns out in front of her. He demonstrated every action as he spoke, "This is the safety. It needs to be clicked this way for the gun to be dangerous. When you run out of rounds, hold the gun straight and push this. The magazine will fall out," he caught the clip in his hand and then shoved it back into the gun, "and you put the fresh one in like this. Now, you only have the one extra clip so be smart about what you shoot at. When you do shoot, look down the barrel, breathe, and squeeze the trigger. Don't pull it. If you pull, you jerk the gun and your shot will be off its mark."

He handed the gun to her. She looked it over and, with a shuddering breath, she tucked it into the back of her jeans; after flipping the safety on of course. Then she shoved the extra magazine into her back pocket. "I thought you said you were lousy with guns?"

"Oh, I know how to handle one and how to fire one." Jackson grinned, checking the ammo of the gun he had chosen for himself. "I just suck."

"That's comforting."

Jackson flashed her another cheeky grin and she had to smile. She never would have imagined Jackson admitting that he sucked at anything. When he smiled like that, he looked so young, she thought despite their current situation. His eyes twinkled with some secret amusement and he reminded her very much of a mischievous teenager.

The elevator doors opened with that familiar ding, breaking her from her thoughts and drawing both of their gazes. Lisa moved to step inside, but her stomach wretched and she staggered back against the wall, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. Jackson stood perfectly still, his stare steady and unwavering. Strangled sobs escaped from Lisa's lips, the pitiful sound leaking through the fingers clasped tightly over them. She closed her eyes as tightly as she could, but it did next to nothing to ward off the searing image of what she had just seen. Her legs wobbled violently beneath her, before she finally turned, fell down to her knees, and vomited.

There was blood splattered on the walls, all over the floor, on the ceiling. Chunks of flesh littered the puddles of blood which had pooled all throughout the carpeted floor. It was macabre and sickening and disturbingly surreal. And the smell, oh, my God, the smell! No one should ever be forced to be subjected to a smell like that. The face a contorted into a twisted version of itself, forever frozen in an expression of pain and fear and terror. Mouth hanging open in a silent scream. Lying in the corner of the elevator, a tangled heap of blood and bone and tissue; staring at them through once lovely sightless brown eyes…was Neela.

Author's Note: Well, that's it for this time. I'm anxious to hear your thoughts so this is just a friendly little reminder to review!