Edited! Heavily!

I am sooo sorry about this. Since I'm near the end of the fic, I really wanted this chapter to be right, and the other one just… definitely wasn't. Sorry for any inconvenience, Chapter 12 will be up soon; this chapter is completely different than it used to be. Once again, sorry!


Chapter 11

Lisa's heels clicked on the pavement as she headed towards her car. She would go home, make herself a plate of eggs—no, no, cereal, something besides eggs—and she would think, she decided. She would figure this out. Reality was finally hitting her, just as she had known it would, had feared it would, and her protection needed to be back but she was having trouble finding it. Lisa so badly wanted to see things how Jackson must've seen them, so then she could understand without a doubt what had really happened and she could move on. She wanted to face 'reality' and see things how they were, and not how she must've imagined them, because she had been so sure, so sure, that he loved her…

But he didn't, she told herself firmly. It was revenge, all along; I put meanings on things he probably used as revenge tactics.

The disappointment, the hurt, the betrayal, threatened to overwhelm her. She was drowning in pain and all she wanted was to move on and leave it all behind, so it could never hurt her again, just sit like pieces of luggage left on the side of highway while she drove away.

Lisa's mind couldn't even wrap itself around the fact that she really loved Jackson and no amount of moving on would leave that behind. She didn't think of that part.

The real blow was that she had wanted to trust him. And she hadn't realized how close to the border of trusting him she was. But now all her roots had been ripped up and she was left feeling like it was almost her fault, because she had put herself out for risk, hadn't she? Nothing good ever came from trusting people, and she, of all people, should have known that. She had been hurt again after promising herself that it would never happen again.

But she couldn't help wondering, a small whispering voice in the back of her mind that she wanted to ignore because hope was not reality and could only hurt her at this point, Why did he try to talk to me on the phone? Why did he sound like he cared? Why? And I can trust Cynthia…

What if Jackson was right? What if it really is out of my control?

Lisa reached her car and fumbled with her keys. Parking lots still made her nervous and her eyesight had steadily become fuzzy with tears as she thought. She wiped at her tears frustratedly and dropped her purse.

"Excuse me," came a gravelly voice behind her. Startled, Lisa forgot her purse and whirled around. A man stood behind her, less than three feet away. He had longish lank black hair and a thin face and a loose fitting suit. In the twilight, his eyes seemed to gleam with menace. Lisa's heart quickened and her eyes darted around the empty-except-for-cars parking lot. Why did she have to park at the back today, and away from the employee spots? She kept her eyes on the man as she bent and fumbled for her purse.

"Miss Reisart, I do… ahm… beg that you continue to face me."

Lisa's eyes widened and she gripped her purse and slowly stood upright. She carefully felt for her keys.

"Miss Reisart, I would also suggest that you put your purse down. You are not going to find your keys."

Fear was beginning to crash around somewhere in Lisa's stomach. She had never seen this man before in her life. "How do you know my name?" She asked tersely.

"Why, it's written on your nametag, Lisa Henrietta Reisart."

Lisa took a step backwards and towards her car. "How do… How do you know that?"

The man smiled and took a step towards her. She fumbled frantically in her purse.

"I already told you that you wouldn't find your keys. I have them. Now, if you'll just calm down, I'd really like to ask you a few questions. Sev Ronning, pleased to meet you." He extended a hand which Lisa stared at. He sighed. "Alright, I see that you're going to make this difficult. I'm sorry about this." And then Lisa felt a pierce in her ankle, and everything went black.

--XvXvXvXvXvXvX--

Jackson leaned against the inside wall of the van as it rounded a corner and stopped in front of a light. He and Carl hadn't said a word since the disastrous—as Jackson considered it—phone call. They were almost to the Luxe Atlantic now; Jackson could see the setting sun glinting off the huge building in the distance. At first, during the long hours in the van and the numbness growing in his butt, he had only thought of his relief that Lisa was alive. But now that he knew her death wasn't an empty threat, relief was beginning to fade to worry again.

Carl finally voiced Jackson's thoughts. "You know, he was keeping tabs on that phone. I'm sure he recorded that call." He said it with a kind of smugness that made Jackson want to slap him.

"God, we're not even getting paid," Jackson muttered, trying not to scream. He felt as if a cage of threats was slowly closing in and suffocating him, and it just made him angrier. "Why the fuck are we doing this?"

Carl tensed in the front seat. The van rounded a corner and started up the street to the Luxe Atlantic. "I think it's better to follow his wishes," he said darkly.

Jackson laughed coldly. "You coward. So what, now we're killing someone just because he doesn't like them? Hell, do we even know his name? What the fuck are we supposed to be so afraid of? As far as I'm concerned, he's working alone, and what was our company is dead. There's nothing left, Faber." An angry and yet somehow rational idea began to form in his mind. "You know we're never going to escape him. What's he done, killed off every other person that decided they didn't want to follow his half-assed plans? I'm going to kill him. I'm going to end this." In a generous moment he offered, "You want to help me?"

Carl didn't say anything.

--XvXvXvXvXvXvX--

When Lisa woke up, it was to find herself in a room that looked oddly familiar. She stared at the ceiling of Room 613 in a dazed way and then sat bolt upright. Oh God. This was the room she had reserved for Jackson. This was the room that man had taken her to. She was such a fool! Finally everything made sense. She had only thought of seeing Jackson and not of what he could do… And what he was doing was obviously coming here to kill someone again. And she was stuck in the middle of it. Oh God. It had to be O'Hannessy. And he was just down the hall!

"Shit!" Lisa leapt up from the bed she was laying across. Stars popped in her eyes at the sudden movement but she blinked them away. She reached the door to the bedroom and yanked on it. Nothing happened. She was locked inside a hotel bedroom while Jackson went to kill someone. This explained everything. He had never loved her, it had all been revenge, and now that he needed the hotel and knew that she would be the only one to suspect him, he wanted her out of the way. That explained why he had tried to talk to her on the phone. Probably trying to threaten her into leaving the hotel.

Oddly enough, she didn't even think of the hurt she should be feeling. She was just numb.

What had possessed her to reserve this room? No one would accidentally come in now that it was believed someone was staying in it. I reserved a room for my own kidnapping! Lisa ran over to the window of the bedroom and looked down. She was six floors up; there was no way she could… She looked around for a telephone, but of course they had removed it. The bedroom was bare except for a bed and the little table beside it. Wait a minute…

--XvXvXvXvXvXvX--

The van rolled to a stop outside the Luxe Atlantic. Carl still hadn't said anything and Jackson was beginning to grow nervous. He felt a vague unease that he had told Carl that he planned to kill their new boss, but pushed it aside. Faber was a dumbshit anyways. Jackson grabbed the toolkit like box from the back and moved towards the door. He tugged on it. "Come on, Faber, unlock the doors. Let's go."

Slowly Carl turned around. Shit. Jackson fumbled for the catch on the door that would unlock it. An odd, almost frantic light gleamed in Carl's eyes as he pulled a gun from his coat pocket. "You're not going to kill him."

Jackson looked from the gun to Carl and his hate for this entire situation only grew. "Oh, fuck you," he spat.

Something changed in Carl's eyes and they were selfish now, selfish and scared. "You wouldn't understand," the hand holding the gun began to shake slightly. "You haven't seen what he's done! You came in late, you escaped most of it, you—I made it this far!" His voice was reaching an almost hysteric cry. And then, suddenly, with determination, "And I'm not going to let you ruin that." The hand holding the gun steadied.

Shit! Jackson fumbled frantically for the catch now. It had to be right here—No… Shit!

"So you're going to kill me," Jackson said conversationally, still searching for the catch. "Don't you think that that might disappoint your boss?" Carl blinked but the gun remained steady. "You've always been a coward." And Jackson threw the toolkit at him as hard as he could. He slammed his fist against the catch and threw the door open and bolted out of the car, running, mindlessly running.

Like a firecracker loaded with fifteen pounds of TNT, the toolkit exploded on impact. Jackson was knocked to the asphalt pavement as shrapnel from the car flew everywhere. He lay very still for two seconds, and then he was up and running towards the hotel, his mind filled with Lisa. He had to make sure she was safe.

--XvXvXvXvXvXvX--

Lisa swung the small bedside table at the door for what felt like the hundredth time. She had only created a very small crack at the lower part of the door and she felt frustrated enough to cry. Sighing, she leaned against the window. Suddenly a slightly muffled boom filled the air and Lisa jumped. They had done it! They had killed him! Oh God! She slumped against the window and peered out of it. A large reddish-black cloud was rising up through the air, beneath it the remains of what looked like a car. Lisa could see a man running towards the hotel. She watched him vaguely. Had they blown up O'Hannessy in his car? At the back of the parking lot? What the hell? Shouts filtered to her from the hallway and she renewed her pounding on the door.

--XvXvXvXvXvXvX--

Jackson came in the front doors of the hotel just as three security guards flew out them and towards the wreckage of the car. He ran towards the unusually empty front desk, slowing at the odd looks given him by other guests. Cynthia, who was working a double shift, stopped at the sight of him. She had never seen Jackson before but the sight of a man covered in scrapes and little bits of dust and gravel was enough to make anyone look twice.

"Can I… help you?"

Jackson recognized her. This had to be Cynthia, Lisa's friend from work… "Lisa Reisart! I need to find her! Where is she?"

Cynthia blinked. "Um, I'm sorry sir; she got off work an hour ago. But I can leave her a message if you--" Jackson had already whirled around and out the doors. A taxi, he needed a taxi, then he could get to her house and—Jackson walked right past Lisa's car and stopped. Shit, shit, shit! An awful suspicion grew clearer and clearer in his head and he ran back towards the hotel. He was almost to the doors when he stopped. A man was leaning against the pillar outside the doors, watching Jackson as he ran. Jackson slowed to a walk and gave the man a look as he neared him.

"Jackson Rippner." Jackson stopped and whirled around. It was the same voice that had come from the transmission box. His mind made connections rapidly.

"Hello," he said calmly. "Where do you have Lisa Reisart?"