(A/N) Sorry it took so long, kids. I had to fit a lot of names in, and finding more questions for everyone's favorite male lead was tough. Hope you enjoy, but then again I've said it before and I'll say it again: I don't much care if you don't.

WARNING! This chapter is rated PG13 for language and slight content. If you're offended, don't read. If not, enjoy.

Session Five: Jack Is Back

Two of the security men served drinks as the passengers sighed. It had been over an hour since they'd had a speaker and some of the girls were getting restless. There'd been muffled arguing from the Reisert's half of the first-class cabin and soft discussion from Rippner's half, so it was anyone's guess as to what the staff had planned.

Finally, after an achingly long time, Miss Maya made her reappearance to a frenzy of claps and a few scattered "finally!"s.

"Ahem," she began, clearing her throat over the applause. "Ahem!" No response.

HEY, FANGIRLS! SHUT UP AND LET THE WOMAN START THE PROGRAM BACK UP AGAIN!

Instant vacuum prevailed.

"I realize you may be slightly put out that we've been behind schedule for an hour, but there's been some technical difficulties. I am sorry to state that Mr. Joseph Reisert has refused to speak tonight."

There were a few groans and mutterings. Miss Maya glared and again, silence reigned.

"He has said so on the grounds that, and I quote, 'My input has nothing to do with this and it's really just a waste of all our time. I know my daughter isn't attracted to the man and I'm sorry I didn't shoot him in the head'. Those who agree with his opinion, well, you got your wish. Again, Mr. Reisert will not be speaking.

"However," she smirked, "We have a treat that may make up for his absence. Mr. Rippner has complied to speak once again, now that his business in Kuwait is concluded."

There was a deafening screech of joy and Miss Maya grimaced. "There will be, however, an amendment or two to the rules as such: no one will be allowed to ask him a question without him calling on them. There will be no references to certain incidents that have taken place during this flight. There will be no questions pertaining to his alleged 'romantic' relationship with Ms. Reisert. We still have plenty of parachutes left for anyone who breaks these and any of the pre-existing rules."

The girls cheered and readied themselves. Miss Maya made sure everyone was properly buckled before going to fetch Mr. Rippner.

Jackson stepped out, adjusting his tie and staring the women down, daring them to bring up the topic of what had happened earlier. Instantly, every eye in the cabin strayed to his pants and a few giggles sounded before he hid the lower half of his body behind the podium.

Miss Maya was attempting to cover up a smirk herself. "Alright folks, Mr. Rippner has agreed to a second interview, so be polite and ask him some questions."

A girl with long brown hair raised her hand. He pointed to her and she gave a quick smile. "Hey, I'm Rebekah. There's been some debate, and I thought I'd ask: did you actually kill your parents?"

He rolled his eyes. "Didn't I say before I didn't care about your names? And yes, ok? I did indeed kill my own parents. But it wasn't cold blooded. It was more of an indifferent thing. I set the house on fire and walked out. I just did it in the middle of the night and decided not to wake them."

There was only the slightest pause before a couple girls, mostly those who admired his style, gave "ooh!'s and "ah!"s. He smirked and glanced around for another question.

One girl, by the name of Destiny, who'd been rather confused about their previous speaker, decided to work together to ask their question. "What exactly did you do to Damion Reisert?"

Jackson took a moment to recall and then threw back his head and laughed, getting back into a good mood. "Oh boy. He was a pistol, that one."

"Did you give him all those scars?"

"You're damn right I did. Carved that boy up like a Christmas turkey. Brat deserved it."

Another girl by the name of Caryn (who apparently had no fear whatsoever of the new policies) asked, "So if you don't have anything for Lisa, do you have a significant other somewhere?"

Jackson shrugged, then grinned. "That's absolutely none of your business."

There were hushed mumblings and excited squeals, reminding listeners yet again of a tribe of flustered marshmallow peeps.

"I can tell you, however," he continued, "that should I have such a significant other, she certainly wouldn't be your arbiter here." He looked playfully to Miss Maya, who looked to him, then to the amazed passengers with an expression of pure, flustered denial.

"No, no!" she waved her hands and shook her head. "I am not!"

"Oh, come on," he purred, deciding to mess around with the audience a little, sensing their hanging on every word of this specific answer. He sauntered over and grabbed the co-pilot, dipping her down in a mock-tango move. "Why lie to them?"

"Jackson," she hissed. "If you don't lift me up and let me go, I will make personally sure you never have children. These girls would lynch me if they believed this tripe."

He resigned to defeat and replaced the slightly irked Miss Maya in her seat before taking the stand again. It was tough to command silence again after this, and henceforth the mediator got sporadic dirty looks from a few of the adamant Jackson fangirls.

One girl, named Amanda, played nervously with her skirt trim while raising her hand. He pointed to her and she asked her question not much louder than a whisper. "Um, are you planning to continue your career much longer?"

"Well, if I was, do you think I'd tell you?" he smirked.

"I just meant, after all that…wouldn't you want to think about a new line of work?"

He considered this. "If I wanted to, maybe I would. But this is what I'm good at. I'll stick to my strengths."

They accepted this. However, one rather condescending girl, who was sitting in the front row window seat, sniffed. "If you're so good at what you do, then why would you leave a variable like Joe Reisert alive while you chased down his daughter?"

The room froze. Had she actually criticized him?

Jackson blinked. Then, with a slow, dangerous smile spreading, he leaned against the side of the stand and cocked his head. "You. I suppose you're another romance writer."

She made a retching sound. "Absolutely not."

He made a slightly surprised face. "Really? What's your name?"

She smirked. "Jen. My handle is 'Ima Pseudonym'.

There was a dead silence as Jackson Rippner's face became expressionless. They watched as his hands grasped the podium, his knuckles going white and his face tinting red.

"Y-…you…!" he hissed.

She sat, calm and composed, as a couple girls whispered nearby.

"What's the deal?" one girl who wore a nametag that read "Vera Luna"– which was interesting enough by itself, as no nametags had been issued asked of her fellow passenger. "Why's he all…pissed?"

The other one, who had previously introduced herself to Vera as "Kait" answered with an expression of terror on her face, whispered back, "That's 'Ima Pseudonym'! She wrote a fic called 'Red Eyes Cry Blood'."

"So?"

"So? I read it! It's not pretty. It's not a love story; not by a long shot. What she did to Jackson…it was awful!"

Meanwhile, said terrorist was staring at the girl, his body trembling and his eyes narrowed with rage. Suddenly, he lunged.

She let out a cry of pain as he yanked her out of her seat, breaking the belt and slamming her up against the wall. No one but Miss Maya could do anything as they were all locked down. As the mediator struggled to pull him off, he was screaming in fury.

"You little bitch! I can't believe you would write that! My experience in prison was not for anyone else's eyes, name changes be damned! I don't know how you knew or how you got that information, but I swear I'm gonna make you pay, you-…!"

"Mr. Rippner! Let her go! Let her go!" Miss Maya cried, trying to pry his iron grip away from the girl's throat.

"I'm going to pull out your spine and hang you with it!" he continued.

Jen wasn't screaming. Instead she was simply clawing at his hands, eyes rolling and lungs struggling to pull in air. "Didn't…know!" she rasped.

"The fuck you didn't!" he bellowed, shrugging off Miss Maya's attacks and tossing the girl across the cabin. She landed hard on the floor and let out a gurgling gasp of pain.

Meanwhile, two security guards has already restrained Mr. Rippner and started pulling him back to his cabin amid fervid death threats issued from said captive. Jen had already crawled back to her seat and had composed herself.

Miss Maya brought her a bottle of water and an ice pack. "I'm so sorry about that. He's just been under a lot of stress lately."

"It's ok…" she managed to grin. "Him knowing who I am is kind of cool."

"Well, your story certainly made waves. I don't think we can let him talk any more tonight."

There was a rising collective groan. "Thanks a lot!" a girl dressed suspiciously like Trinity from The Matrix snarled at her. "I finally get to see the guy and you chase him off!"

"Yeah, thanks for nothing!" another, named Tiffany, snapped. "I had a question for him!

A couple more girls put up the same argument, with a few nasty threats shoved in there for good measure. One of them frowned on all this complaining and was heard to say, "That's not how you make friends!"

PASSENGERS WILL SHUT UP. NOW THAT OUR RATING IS SUFFICIENTLY RUINED, IT'S TIME WE ALL QUIETED DOWN. DESCENT WILL BEGIN SHORTLY.

Another moan went up, but the captain's voice continued. THIS IS NOT TO CLAIM WE DON'T HAVE ANY MORE SPEAKERS FOR YOU. THERE WILL BE ONE MORE SESSION, ONE WHICH NONE OF YOU WILL BE ALLOWED TO SPEAK IN.

The passengers, very confused, looked to one another for an explanation that simply didn't exist. They soon however settled back into their chairs to wait for the final interview.

Well, there you go. As the man said, NO ONE will be speaking in the next chapter. No one, that is, except the members of the final interview. So I do NOT want to see an application to be included. It will be disregarded and deleted.

However, I am running a CONTEST! (insert cheer #4 here)

The singular winner will be featured in the final session of this story. It entails fun, fun stuff, but not just stuff that can be enjoyed by said winner. Other readers will find it entertaining as well, so I say in advance: in case you don't win, be sure to check back in when the final chapter rolls around.

The rules are thus: Send me an e-mail (NOT A REVIEW) titled "Red Eye Contest" describing why you think you deserve to win. That's all. The most original or funniest or simply the one I like best will be victorious. There is no deadline save the date I post the final chapter, and there will be no announcement of the winner. You'll just have to come see for yourself.