Lisa stared forlornly out the plane window. Jackson glanced at her. Her face was pale but unmoving. She was in mild shock.

"When we get to London, I'm going to-" he began, trying to snap her out of this little daze. It worked.

Lisa's head snapped up. "London?"

He nodded, irritated at being interrupted. "Yeah. When we get there, we'll check into the hotel and then we'll meet with one of my associates. And then it's just you, me, and the hostage."

Lisa shuddered.

"Aw, Leese, what, scared of me now?" Jackson crooned, patting her arm. Lisa pulled away, shaking.

"Go to hell," she whispered. Jackson laughed a harsh cold laugh.

"Ouch. That hurts," he mocked.

"Why can't you leave me alone?" she whispered. "Why's it always me who gets hooked into your little games?"

"Because, Leese, I'm in love with you," he snapped. Lisa looked away. "And the job. You keep forgetting."

"Jackson, you're such a child. Love has to work two ways, otherwise it's just obsession," Lisa corrected. "How can someone possibly love an assassin?"

Jackson shrugged.

They sat in silence for a few moments until Jackson spoke again.

"What'd you go to college for?"

Lisa stared at him. "All hail the king of graceful segways."

"Seriously, what did you study?" he prodded.

"What the hell do you care?" she spat.

"Leese, you're forgetting that under my job I'm just like you. Human. I like pleasant conversation as much as the next person," he sighed. Lisa glared at him but finally spoke.

"English."

"For teaching?" he questioned.

"No," Lisa said in an irritated voice. "I wanted to be a novelist or a journalist."

"Ohhh," he nodded.

"I liked writing about adventures," Lisa sighed. "And romances. I thought I wanted an interesting life but as a highschooler didn't think I'd have one. Writing was an escape from the monotony for me. Now I realize what an idiot I was. There isn't adventure, there isn't romance. There's just hell and normal. One or the other." She shook her head.

"Well, you got your adventure," Jackson chuckled. "And I can take care of the romance part."

Lisa smacked him hard in the face. "Don't you ever say that again," she snarled and reached to hit him again, but he snatched her wrist and angrily twisted it.

"I think you're forgetting something, Leese," he growled. "I have the gun. I have the only key to your cousin's survival. You aren't the one giving orders."

Lisa glared at him but he let her wrist go.

"Why'd you pick London?" Lisa asked a while later.

"I was born there," Jackson admitted. "I guess you could say it has 'sentimental value'."

"You don't sound British," Lisa noticed.

"After my parents died I moved to the states with my uncle," Jackson explained to her. "And no, Lisa, I didn't kill them." His face was lined with tension.

Lisa looked at him. "I wasn't going to ask." Although she was.

"They were murdered," he admitted. "Anyway, my twin brother-"

Lisa cut him off in shock. "You have a brother?"

Jackson shook his head. "He died about a day after my parents."

Lisa took a big breath. "How?"

"Murdered as well. It was only then that I found out my uncle had done it because my family was rather wealthy and he would inherit the money. I was next to die, actually," Jackson explained painfully.

"Wh-what did you do?" Lisa questioned, thinking she knew the answer.

"Killed him," Lisa's stomach fell out. "I had to, Leese. Anyway, I realized that I needed to get away after I killed him. Don't remember how, but somehow I stumbled upon the organization I work for now."

Lisa shook her head in disbelief. "You didn't have to. You had a choice."

"Lisa, you're so dense sometimes, I swear," Jackson said, irritated. "Snap out of this little fairy world you're living in. I had to kill him. Get over it."

"You didn't have to work for them, though, Jack," she snapped. He shrugged.

"Where else would a ten-year-old boy find work?"

Lisa fell silent. She tried to find reason to argue with Jackson on the matter, but the truth was he was right. She was merely arguing with him because it was harder to hate him with the past he had.

Lisa felt a recurring sense of de ja vu as the hours slowly passed. Suddenly she was struck with an idea. A feeble one, she knew, but it was her only chance.

"Jackson, I-have to go to the restroom," she croaked. He glanced at her.

"I saw how that turned out before," he snorted. "No."

"Might I remind you that I made the call after?" Lisa bargained.

"Might I remind you that you stabbed me in the throat after?" Jackson mimicked.

"They weren't directly related," Lisa grumbled. "Don't you trust me?"

"Actually, Leese, no, I don't," Jackson admitted.

"You know, it surprises me, really, how you expect people to trust you so badly but you can't trust in return," Lisa let her words absorb into Jackson's thoughts. He sighed and glared at her, thinking.

"Fine. I'll be waiting outside, should you try anything," Jackson told her, letting her out of the seat.

"Need my purse," she requested. Jackson shook his head.

"Feel lucky you get this."

Lisa made her way down the narrow aisle, feeling Jackson's lurking presence behind her. She opened the door to the lavatory and slammed it behind her, strongly resisting the urge to cry as she had the last time she'd been in an airplane bathroom. She only had a few minutes in which to act.

There was a spot, near the toilet, where the wall curved in. Jackson wouldn't be able to see it from the doorway. Lisa took the pen she'd stored in her pajama waistband and began to etch away at the tile.

16A HAS BOMB.

Lisa sighed and stashed the pen back in her pocket, admiring her handiwork. She turned the sink on to mimic washing her hands and opened the door.

Jackson stood there. He peered behind her into the restroom and, seeing nothing, took her arm. "Ready?" Lisa nodded and let him lead her back to their seats. Now all she could do was wait.