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Chapter 8

Her house was just as it had been when she left, clean, neat, new-smelling. The magazines were still piled neatly on the coffee table, and Lisa flopped onto her soft couch and kicked at the pile dully, anything to disturb the orderliness. Her mind was anything but orderly. It was eleven o'clock at night and Lisa had work the next day. She supposed she had better call her father, maybe call her work partners, Cynthia, someone, tell them that she was back from her 'vacation'. The note from Jackson had still lying on the counter when Lisa returned home, and her father's untidy scrawl had been added to the bottom of it; his relief evident in his writing that she had gone on a vacation. He said he hoped she had a good time and didn't make any rush to come back.

Didn't make any rush to come back…

Why was she making such a rush to 'come back'? No one knew she had returned from her fake vacation yet, and why should they? For all they knew she was still gone. And so Lisa decided to wait a couple days, collect her thoughts; try once again to move on from the traumatic personality that was Jackson Montgomery.

As usual when he became intensely focused on something, Jackson forgot to plan for anything other than the expected. He decided he wanted Lisa right then and there, and at first, it was a fantasy, but it soon became a reality. All he had to do was go back and get her, right? And maybe, this time, he could tie her up and he would make her listen to him! Just what he had to say, Jackson wasn't quite sure, but he ignored this minor setback. He would think of something. And so, soon he had pulled Lisa's keys from their place in his wallet and set off in her Cadillac. He figured he would only be a couple hours after her. She might even be asleep when he arrived at her house, and then it would be easy to tie her up, and she would listen, and…

Around and around Jackson's thoughts swirled, the same vision repeating again and again. Of course, they all stopped at the same part, and then rewound and started again, never to go any further, but this didn't bother Jackson. He was determined. He knew what he was doing. Nothing could go wrong.

Lisa yawned and started up the thickly carpeted stairs towards her bedroom. The door silently opened. And then she saw the still wrinkled covers of her bed, and the hockey stick lying on the floor, and the one drawer in her bureau that was still slightly open and empty, and she whirled about and stumbled back down the stairs. She could not go back into that room. There was too much evidence of Jackson left in it. Lisa collapsed on the couch and pulled the navy throw blanket down on top of her and waited for sleep.

Dull headlights glared through the dusk and clouds could be seen, clumping thickly at the horizon. Jackson took a left down a residential street, palm trees lining one side of the road, and on the opposite side he saw Lisa's house. It was such a beautiful house, he reflected, and saw his car sitting in the driveway outside of it and decided that it belonged there. He parked across the street and walked quietly towards Lisa's front door. He silently walked up the wood steps and turned Lisa's key in the lock, and silently stepped into her home. There was a throbbing in his chest.

"Lisa," he said huskily into the dimness. He could see one of her hands draped across the top of the couch, idly twisting the fringe of the blanket. The hand stopped and froze. "Lisa," he said again, and stepped closer towards the couch.

Why was he here? Why had he come back? Was revenge that important?

What if I was that important?

Lisa was oddly numb. She felt hollow and afraid to see Jackson again. And yet here he was, and she really didn't want him to leave, she just wanted this wrenching ache in her chest to go away. Everything was just too unreal, she thought dully. Maybe she had dreamed this whole thing. She watched Jackson's dark figure appear in front of her.

"I'm sorry, Lisa," he said and shifted from one foot to the other. Through something blurry and wet, Lisa saw a dark figure sit on the edge of the couch, by her feet, and she slowly pulled herself upright and curled into a little ball.

"Get out of my house, Jackson," she said, her voice thick with tears.

"No, Lisa, I--" Jackson cleared his throat.

"Leave," came Lisa's muffled little voice. She buried her face in her knees to keep from looking at Jackson. She wished she had earplugs so she wouldn't hear the desperation in his voice.

"I--"

"Leave, leave, leave!" Lisa cried hysterically. "Leave! Just go, just leave, leave me alone…" She got up and stumbled towards the door. Her hand hesitated on the doorknob as Jackson stood, and for a moment she was tempted to block the door and not let him go. So he didn't care about her then.

Jackson stepped towards Lisa and stopped. The sunset had faded the room into near complete darkness, and he stood and stared down at her. There was a pounding in his ears and desperation clouded his thinking. Before Jackson knew what he was doing, he had strode towards Lisa and lifted her in his arms and thrown her over his shoulder like a rather large sack of potatoes. He locked the front door with Lisa's key, and then, still carrying a stunned Lisa, walked around the house and locked the back door.

"Did you know your doors locked from the inside, too, Leese?" he murmured. "You're trapped inside your own house now, Leese. You're not going anywhere, and neither am I."

Lisa struggled faintly in Jackson's grip and then sighed. Blood was rushing to her head from her upside-down position, and the only clear thought that seemed to be floating around in there was the knowledge that… Oh! Jackson was putting her down on the couch now, and thoughts came raining down on Lisa's mind so quickly that she couldn't decipher that one clear one anymore.

Jackson had felt a pleasant block come down on his mind just a few seconds ago, much like the empty sensation he experienced when he was about to kill someone. And then Lisa's crumpled face swam in front of his cold eyes as he set her on the couch, and the block shattered. Jackson slumped onto the coffee table across from Lisa and the magazines felt to the ground with a quiet slip.

"Oh, God, Lisa…" He buried his head in his hands and wondered if it was possible to die from guilt.

Shaken, Lisa stared at Jackson's slumped figure. The thoughts that had rained down on her mind had turned to a muddled pile of Confusion.

"What is wrong with me?" Jackson raised his head from his hands and looked straight at Lisa, his eyes hopeless and burning with something like defeat. "I'm going to leave now. I won't come here again. I… I promise you."

Jackson strode to the door and fumbled in his back pocket for the keys. Lisa heard the faint jingle as they were pulled out, heard the quiet creak as the door opened, the click as it closed. She heard the lock being clicked from outside and sighed. Then she realized that Jackson had taken her keys with him. Wearily, Lisa stood and started towards the door. Either this madness ended now, with nothing to bring Jackson back into her life, or it kept on going, forever and ever.

Lisa spun the lock and stepped out in the mild night air. The sun had completely set now, and only faint purple streaks tinged the horizon. The house across the street's solar-power lights had come on and one seemed to be broken, for it kept flickering. Jackson was standing on the edge of the lawn, the tips of his shoes on the sidewalk. His back was to Lisa and she stood on her steps and watched him. Above her head, the streetlamp clicked on.

Jackson glanced over his shoulder at the dimly lit figure of Lisa on the steps. He turned around and started towards her, stopping three feet away. He stared up at her in an almost dazed and delirious way and whispered, "Lisa… Please don't let me leave."

"Why did you kidnap me?" she asked back, her mind afraid to recognize what Jackson might've meant. She stepped down the remaining stairs to the house and stood right in front of him. Her heart seemed ready to thud right out of her chest at his nearness.

"I love you." Jackson took in a deep breath. "I wanted revenge from you, but I knew all along I'd never get it. Please believe me, Lisa. Please forgive me for… For all that I've done. Please love me."

"How can I forgive you?" Lisa asked hopelessly. "You're a murderer, Jackson. How—"

He grabbed her shoulders and stared fiercely into her eyes. "I'm not! My company thinks I'm dead, that's why I changed my name, you can forgive me! You can love me!" Jackson remembered the notebook. "I know you can, haven't you seemed to before? You can, please, Lisa… You can…"

Lisa just stared at Jackson, disbelief obvious in her eyes. "I thought you hated me."

"No," he said breathlessly. "No, Lisa. I was trying to hide from loving you. You're my only weakness, and if I ever hated you, that was why. Say you love me. I'm--"

"I can't trust you, Jackson."

"But you can learn to!"

Lisa stared up at Jackson, disbelief turning to relief, and she whispered, "I love you, Jackson."

He pulled her roughly into his arms and kissed her and kissed her until her mouth was swollen and both were gasping for air.

And yet…

And yet something at the back of her mind kept prodding her, and she knew she needed to satisfy it, but things were so perfect right now, she didn't want to disrupt anything. Inwardly, though, deep down, she knew. How can you trust someone who has tried to kill you, no matter how long ago it was? How can you trust someone who seems to care about you one minute, and the next, hate you? How it is possible?

Distrustfulness was nothing new to Lisa. She had lived too much of her life with it, and so now, when she really had reason to be distrustful and cautious, she brushed her reasoning away with a sort of rebellion and ignored what she had been taught to trust most: herself. I'm too alone! Her mind screamed. I can learn to forgive, to trust, to believe in people again! And Lisa knew she loved Jackson, and she was afraid to lose that. He pulled her closer and she buried her face in his warm, hard, safe chest and thoroughly ignored each and every one of her fears.

"I love you, Lisa Reisart," Jackson murmured into her hair. "I'll—I'll love you until the day I die, and maybe after that, and…" He paused. "I feel like an idiot." Lisa laughed and he bent his head and kissed her, and before the outside world became completely empty to Lisa, empty except for her and Jackson, a little doubt whispered, what will happen now? What will happen…

Next door, in the house with the flickering solar light, Dr. Jones scratched his bald head and yawned. Another man stood at the window looking out on Lisa's house, his back to Jones. The man was tall and thin. He had chin-length black grungy hair, and from the back all you could see was his oddly out of place and loose-fitting black suit. The man shifted on his feet.

"Well, he does seem to be… Alive…?" Dr. Jones ventured nervously. His large eyes blinked owlishly and he seemed to stare in childlike wonder at the other man's back.

"Of course he's alive, you fool," the man spat. "You can't have expected Rippner to just up and die. God, I still can't believe you fell for it that first time. You almost got your ass fired from that hospital job, and all because of some faulty equipment? I expect you to be much more professional this time, moron."

"Sir, I'm really not sure…"

"Look," said the man impatiently. "We really can't afford to lose Rippner. He took some of our best men with him in his little fake death. And now we're getting fucking blacklisted by our customers for the last bungled job. We need Rippner, dammit! Either you get him to come back, or you get him to come back. Got it?"

"But sir… What if I… don't get him to come back? He seems quite happy where he is, surely--"

"Dammit, Jones! What about get him fucking back and working with us don't you understand? Honest to God, how in the hell did I get saddled with such a moron?" The man flicked at a fly that was resting outside the window pane. A dull thunk echoed throughout the empty house. "I don't give a shit what you do! As long as it's nothing as stupid as notifying the newspapers of a death that didn't happen, I don't give a shit! Threaten that bitch he seems so fascinated by, I don't care!"

"Alright," Jones said dully. "How soon should I have him back at HQ by?"

"Give him six months," the man replied thoughtfully. He started towards the door and stopped, his back still to Jones. "And for God's sake, try not to get as much notice this time, alright?"


A/N: This is most likely the end of the story. I'm debating whether or not I should do a sequel, which will take place about 15 years after this chapter, or whether I should just do the 'sequel' thing as part of this story. I think it will make more sense to do it as a sequel, though.

Please tell me what you'd prefer I do! And your thoughts on this chapter would be great, too! Thank you!