Author's Note: It took me forever and a day to figure out how to begin this chapter. Seriosuly. Then I figured hey, when in doubt, go with a quote from the movie. Lo and behold, it worked.
Be warned, there is a bit of violence and language in this chapter. I actually had to tone it down in order to maintain a pg-13 (T) raiting.
The song used in this chapter is, IMO, one of the best suited for Red Eye. I love A Perfect Circle.
-x-x-x-
Chapter Five
Savior
Don't fret precious, I'm here
Step away from the window
Go back to sleep
Pay no mind to what other voices say
See, they don't care about you, like I do
Safe from pain, and truth, and choice,
And other poison devils,
See, they don't give a fuck about you, like I do
Just stay with me
Safe and ignorant
Go back to sleep…
Lay your head down child,
I won't let the boogeyman come
Count the bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums
Pay no mind to the rabble, pay no mind to the rabble
Head down, go to sleep to the rhythm of the war drums
I'll be the one to protect you from
You enemies and all your demons
I'll be the one protect you from
A will to survive and a voice of reason
I'll be the one to protect you from
Your enemies and your choices, son
One and the same I must isolate you,
Isolate and save you from yourself.
A Perfect Circle, "Pet"
-x-x-x-
Sometimes bad things happen to good people.
It was one of Jackson's mottos, one of the many slogans that he used to build a wall of unfeeling indifference around his mind and heart in regards to his job. Even he had to admit that being a cold-hearted killer as the job description implied was not easy work, especially when his specialty was the organization and execution of assassinations. Jackson's reputation amongst his coworkers was nothing short than legendary, not only for his young age when he came into the management position or his remarkable ability to complete his jobs without a hitch, but also for nerves as hard as steel, a mind as sharp as razors and a heart as cold as ice. But Jackson was only human in one respect or another, and after nearly ten years of seeing grown men weeping and plead for their lives, or women crying for mercy for the lives of their children… Well, it had the tendency to wear down on one after a while.
It was not so much that Jackson enjoyed what he did. Some people might have called him a murderer, a psycho, a monster even, but in all honesty, Jackson regarded his job as merely another occupation, albeit an unconventional one in the eyes of every other Average Joe. But it paid well – exceptionally well – and he was good at what he did. For a while, it had been enough. He was not happy with his life, per sae, but he was more than content with the way things had been going. It wasn't his fault that the main targets of his clients were decent men and honest politicians who probably would have done more than their share of making the world a better place. Money and terror bought the power in this incredibly fucked-up world. It was completely beyond his control. And it was that frame of mind that got him through the day.
Until the Keefe assassination. Until he met Lisa. Then everything had changed, when she had successfully managed to upset his delicate status quo of life. What had it been, exactly? The hurt in her eyes when she came to terms with what his true intentions were? The silent tears that fell from those green eyes like rain when he threatened her lack of cooperation with her father's life? Or had it been that moment, when he had her cornered in the airplane bathroom, when she looked at him directly in the eye and said, very straightforwardly, "You don't have to do this. Any of this."
He had the retaliation on the tip of his tongue – of course I have to do it, you dumb bitch, do you not understand the consequences if I simply cop out and walk away – but there had been something about her words that had struck a nerve, and completely left him at a loss of words. At that moment, Jackson had felt as though the entire life of his carrier had flashed before his eyes, and for the first time since he was first employed with the company, he began to question his motives, his goal, the whole point to what he did and what good it did to the world…
And he was angry. At that moment, he would have given anything to snap her neck like a twig, simply to make himself feel better…
Then his eyes found her scar.
He had been right. Bad things did happen to good people. That was just how the world worked. Of all people, he would have expected Lisa to know that better than anyone. Not even Jackson would say that she had deserved to be raped, or to be the untimely key component in an assassination plot that, other than her professional connection with Keefe, had nothing to do with her. And now she was being used as the bait to lure Jackson out of hiding, throwing her once more in the middle of a fight that she had no other business with.
A year ago, Jackson honestly wouldn't have given a flying fuck about her welfare. He knew for a fact that one year ago, he would have merely blown the whole situation off, leaving her alone to whatever cruel device her kidnappers might have had planned for her, and leaving them hanging by refusing to indulge them with his appearance. He still had half a mind to do just that, but the hair-line crack that Lisa's words and pleading eyes had created on his oh-so-carefully built walls that day had put a spin on his whole way of thinking.
Perhaps that was the reason that helped him make his ultimate decision to go after her. Not because it was the "right" thing to do by society's standards, nor was it for the sole reason of finding out who exactly was after him. No, he was going after Lisa to convince himself that she truly didn't mean a damn thing to him. Then he could just dump her off in the nearest police department and she truly would be out of his life again. Only this time, it would be forever. Then he would be free to pick up where he left off and get back to what he did for a living, and she would be able to move on from the whole ordeal, to meet some nice schmuck whom she would have a real chance of falling in love with, to get married to, raise a family with…
Jackson felt a strange twisting sensation in his chest at that thought, something alien and unfamiliar. Why would he care what she did with her life after this whole thing was done and over with? He had no reason to ever bother her again, and Lisa would be free to find her happily ever after with a nice guy with a normal carrier.
Someone who isn't you. Someone who could give her everything that you couldn't.
"So, you're really going through with this aren't you?"
Jackson turned where he stood in the front entryway of the old plantation house to see Rodney, Roxi, Byron and Lionel standing behind them, each wearing their telltale expressions as they stared back at him. The why Rodney's brow quirked with apparent worry, or how Roxi scowled at him from under locks of dark hair, Lionel's cool indifference – even the way Byron fiddled with a new remote, his mind elsewhere other than the here and now – were all more than familiar to Jackson. It was almost comforting in a way, to see his old friends like this. It took him back to a simpler time, when they were still a bunch of rambunctious college kids running amok on the campus instead of living day-to-day with the risks of working for the world's most renowned assassination organization, even it was just Jackson that did the real dirty work.
They were also the same expressions that Jackson had hoped to avoid, to slip away unnoticed into the night before they had a chance to realize that he was gone. It was going to make things so much more difficult.
"Yeah," Jackson said coolly as he turned back to the front door. "I am."
"And you mean to do it alone?" Roxi questioned, her voice bitter.
"This doesn't concern any of you." Jackson said after a brief pause, his hand on the doorknob of the front door. He couldn't make himself look back at them. "I can't ask you to put yourselves in danger because of a personal grudge someone has against me."
"Jackson, going it alone is suicide." Rodney argued. Out of all of them, leave it to the blonde man to be the most rational, the only one who could get Jackson to listen to reason. "Just put your pride on the shelf for two seconds and think. It might be only one person who has a beef with you, but remember they got those drug smugglers involved. They're the one that captured Miss Reisert, and I can bet you any amount of money that they just didn't bugger off when they dumped her off in that warehouse. It's an uneven fight from the beginning."
When Jackson did not say anything for a long moment, it was Byron that finally spoke. "Well…why don't we just follow behind him? You know, Jackie takes the Z-4 and goes ahead of us, and we follow in the van just behind him. Therefore, if he needs backup, we'll be there. Sounds like a decent plan, eh? Besides," he added, brandishing the remote he'd been tinkering with. "I've been itching to try this new system out. Might be the ideal opportunity."
Rodney's brow quirked in thought. "You know, I think Byron's onto something. Except for the blowing stuff up part, I think we'd rather stay incognito for the first part." The blonde man shot a warning glance in Byron's direction, who just pouted in response. "So what do you say Jackson? Insane, but not suicidal. Just how you like it."
Jackson fixed Rodney with his icy glare, his expression unreadable. Finally, he turned away again, but just when Rodney thought it was a battle lost, Jackson said, "Sure. Whatever you want."
Rodney let out a silent sigh of relief, grateful for that small victory as he watched his blue-eyed friend leave the house without a backwards glance. Beside him, he heard Roxi scoff. "I just don't get it. This girl fucks up his assignment, almost kills him in the process, and for some reason he's hell bent on saving her ass?"
Rodney smiled sympathetically, draping an arm over his wife's shoulder. "Give him a break, Roxanne. He's was already all bent out of shape since the wedding, and given everything that's happened in the past year… Well, you can't blame him for being a little off balance."
"So what do you think he's planning? A little unfinished revenge?"
"No." Rodney said, shaking his head. "I would call it reclaiming missed opportunities."
-x-x-x-
Hours later…
Days later, even…
Lisa wasn't quite sure. All she knew is that she was still stuck in that damnable warehouse, her hands still bound behind her back, and despite her efforts to try to sheer through the rope that held her with a piece of jagged metal protruding from the wall, she wasn't going anywhere fast. It had taken a surprising amount of effort to try to cut through the rope; more often than not she slipped, resulting in cutting her hands and fingers instead, so now they ached horribly, caked in dried blood. The thought of tetanus kept running across her mind, but she pushed the thought away. There were much more important things to worry about at the moment. On top of that, every now and again the thugs holding her captive would walk by, to make sure that she was not trying anything to escape – much like she was now – and when they did she had to fall back to her side, feigning sleep, until they moved then. Only after she was sure she that they were no longer looking at her she sat back up and continued to work.
She was just grateful that Lenore never returned. Or, for that matter, that Jackson never showed up.
With a frustrated grunt, Lisa pushed back against the jagged metal one last time, and her heart gave a leaping thrill as she finally felt the rope give way, and slacken around her wrists. Not bothering to waste another moment, Lisa struggled free of the rope, feeling her shoulders ache and groan in relief as she finally brought her arms forward and tugged the gag from her mouth. The cool air of the warehouse tasted sweet against her parched throat and tongue. The hardest part was over. Now all she had to do was sneak away from the buffoons that were supposed to be watching her, then sneak away from this place altogether, find the nearest main road and make her way back to a town…
She began to push herself to her feet, but stopped dead at the sound of dry, disgusting laughing behind her.
"Well, well, look what we got here, Tony. Seems the princess is something of an escape artist."
Lisa turned, her blood freezing in her veins to see two incredibly big men standing over her, leering down at her prone form like two hungry predators.
"What do you think we should do with her, Ed?" The other man sneered down at Lisa, his eyes glinting in a way that made her feel sick to her stomach. "Trying to escape is against the rules. Miss Bardwell said so herself."
"Seems to me like a punishment's in order."
Lisa could do little but gape up at them as their words sank in, her mind a spinning vortex of panic and fear, but all words died in her throat. Her arms and legs felt like lead, unresponsive, unmoving. Why wouldn't they move? Why?
"What did you have in mind?" Ed asked.
"Miss Bardwell only told us to make sure she stayed put until Rippner arrived. She didn't say anything about what condition she could be in when that happened." Tony bent down to Lisa's level, grasping her chin in one grubby, thick-fingered hand, making her feel filthy just from the contact. "She's a nice piece of ass, isn't she? It's a shame Miss Bardwell ordered us to kill her when all this is over with. Might as well have some fun with her while we can, don't you say, Ed?"
The panic in Lisa's mind escalated to a sheer void of terror, the traumatic event of her rape three years flashing before her eyes in frightening detail.
It's going to happen again, her mind screamed as Tony grabbed her roughly by the front of the shirt, the sound of ripping fabric painful in her ears.
It's going to happen again it said again as she felt the man's lips on her neck, his teeth scraping painfully against her skin as the other man's hand found her backside, squeezing hard enough to bruise the skin.
Suddenly the memory of a pair of icy blue eyes flashed before her eyes, canceling out all other thoughts, and she was torn away from the parking lot and back to the red eye flight a year ago, and she remembered; stabbed him the throat with a pen, escaping him from the airport, hitting his man with an SUV outside her house, stabbing him in the leg with the spike of her high heel, and finally shooting him in his abdomen…
All to survive.
It'll never happen again!
Lisa brought up her knee into Tony's groin with all the strength her memories gave her, crushing his testicles with the force of the blow and reducing the man to nothing more than a howling mess on the ground. For a moment, his companion only stared dumbfounded at the sight that lay before him, as though the pain that Lisa had inflicted on him had somehow managed to affect the second man too, and she wasted no time in breaking away from his grasp and bolting towards the nearest exit. As soon as she began to run, Ed snapped back to attention, his face contorting in rage.
"You fucking little bitch!" He spat, and took after her.
Lisa ran. She ran harder and faster than any other time in her life, including the time when Jackson was chasing her through her house. For some reason, this seemed so much more terrifying. Perhaps it was because she was in a place completely foreign to her, a place that she did not know like the back of her hand. Or because the man chasing her was not incapacitated from a previous wound. But whatever the reason, she knew that she had to stay one step ahead of him, to stay as far out of his reach as possible. Her very life depended on it.
Her first thought, of course, was to run to the giant rolling door on the far end of the warehouse, the one she knew that Lenore and her thugs had come through earlier that day. But the steel shutter was down, and she did not have the time to try to open them herself, or risk calling more attention to her escape. She had a feeling that Tony and Ed were not the only muscle men that Lenore kept on her leash. Lisa was between a rock and a hard place, and the light of her freedom was dim and very, very far away.
Ed was gaining, her rage fueling his speed. It would not be long before he caught up with her, and she knew it. Lisa came across a row of chairs, stacked neatly before her, and without thinking twice, she grabbed the nearest one and pulled it down, the shout of surprise from behind telling her that they had successfully fallen on Ed, but to her dismay, the toppled tower of chairs brought down several pieces of old machinery with them, the floor of the warehouse now littered with the debris of twisted metal. Once more, she tried to make a break for it, but to her shock and horror, something closed around her ankle and pulled her down and landed, hard, on her side, all the air rushing from her lungs in one painful blow. Stars flashed before her eyes, but she forced them back, looking over her shoulder to see that Ed had a firm hold on her ankle, hellfire flaring in his eyes.
"You bitch!" He snarled. "You're going to wish you're dead by the time I'm finished with you!"
"Fuck you!" Lisa shouted back, and in one powerful motion, kicked the man in the face, driving the heel of his shoe into his bulbous nose, feeling the flesh and bone shatter under the impact. Ed gargled in his blood as it flooded his ruined nasal cavities, but sheer instinct for survival had taken over Lisa's mind, and she kicked again, this time smashing her heel into the man's jaw, once more feeling the crunch of bone under her heel. Ed sputtered once, then lay still, his face unrecognizable through the sea of blood that covered his face and pooled thickly around his head.
Lisa wasted no time after that. She untangled herself from the pile of rubble she had fallen into and was off running again. Never mind that she might have killed the man. Her survival was all that mattered. Running, sprinting across the manufacturing floor, towards a spindly-looking stairwell that clung to the rusty wall. She scaled the steps two and three at a time before reaching the door, pulling it open without much regard for anything that might have been on the other side until it was too late.
Luck was with her that day. The room just beyond was completely empty.
But her heart was still racing at a million miles an hour, and she knew that she was still not out of the fire. She still had to find a way out of this place without getting caught by anyone else, and then far enough away so they would have a harder time tracking her down. She had already injured two of their men – one badly – but she did not know if she would be able to fight off any more if they all came at her at once. But still, she had to try. Just sitting here would do her no favors, nor would it help her escape any faster.
Quickly, Lisa scanned the room she had found herself in. It looked like an office of some sort, long since abandoned, meant for overseeing the work that took place on the warehouse floor below it. There were signs that someone had been here recently, though, most notably from the ashtray sitting on the decrepit desk positioned in front of the observation windows. There was a half-smoked cigarette in the tray, a thin stream of pungent smoke rising from the ashy tip. Someone was here, and recently, and were more than likely coming back at any time. Had they seen her attack the two men who were supposed to be watching her, and had gone for backup? Best not to stick around to find out.
Lisa's eyes caught something laying in the corner before she left the office, an object about two feet long and crafted of cold, crude metal; a crowbar. Lisa considered it for a moment. If she going this alone, it wouldn't hurt to be armed. Beside, a crowbar could do much more damage to a man's skull than a field hockey stick. Never taking her eyes off the door, she bent down to pick the crowbar up, its weight a welcoming comfort in her hands, before she crossed over to the door and slowly, cautiously, opened it. There was nothing but silence in the corridor beyond, and only ventured forth once she was absolutely sure it was empty.
Step by cautious step, Lisa made her way down the bleak, dark corridor, her footfalls echoing painfully off the corrugated walls and ceiling. Every few feet she stopped, listening for any sign that someone was coming up the corridor, or approaching her from behind, before she started forward again, holding the crowbar in a ready-to-strike position to make sure she had the upper hand. To her surprise and welcomed relief, she did not encounter anyone as she reached the end of the corridor, or when she descended down another flight of rickety stairs and entered a maze of office cubicles. Now if her luck could just hold out until she reached an exit she would be home free…
Voices. Coming up from behind her. At least three men.
Hide!
Lisa ducked into the nearest cubical, pressing herself as far as she could into the shadows, not daring to even breath as the voices came closer, their footsteps becoming more apparent by the moment.
"Nero found Ed and Tony on the warehouse floor just five minutes ago." One of the men were saying, his voice laced with a frantic tone. "Ed's face is completely smashed in. It's amazing the poor bastard's not dead. And Tony's balls are all busted in, there's blood everywhere."
"And the girl?" A second voice demanded.
"What, do you think the little bitch would honestly hang around after a stunt like that? Not fucking likely."
"Well, find her!" The second voice commanded. "If we loose her, I will guarantee you that Miss Bardwell will turn us over to the authorities after she's skinned us alive and dropped us into vats of salt water!"
The men passed by her cubicle, mere shadowy figures with no faces, but it was not until their voices faded that Lisa at last released the breath she had been holding. Not wanting to think about what the rest of Lenore's lackies would do to her when they found her, Lisa emerged from her hiding spot and continued on, all her senses on fire. She weaved in and out of the cubicles, ducking into shadows at the slightest hint of sound other than her own footsteps, and after what felt like hours, the dim glow of the exit sign finally came to sight.
The light at the end of the tunnel. It was the most glorious sight that Lisa had ever seen in the world, and she could not help but grin like a fool when she saw it. Before she knew what she was doing, Lisa was running towards the exit, her escape drawing closer and closer with each passing step…
"Hey, you!"
Lisa stopped in her tracks, cold dread sweeping through her as she spun around on her heel. Someone was standing behind her, hidden in the shadow, but was wasting no time advancing on her. For the life of her, Lisa could not make herself move!
"Alright miss, the fun stops here." The man said dangerously, his hand hovering somewhere around his hip. "No tricks. Set the crowbar down and just cooperate, and you won't get hurt." When Lisa did not lower the crowbar – he limbs felt frozen, she was not sure if she could drop it even if she had wanted to – the man sighed, then pulled out the gun from its holster at his hip, aiming the barrel at her head. "I'm not going to ask again. Drop the goddamn crowbar and get the fuck over here."
Lisa did not respond. Could not respond. The walls were closing in around her.
The man sighed, and the sound of the gun being cocked resonated through the warehouse.
A shot was fired. Lisa's eyes snapped shut, and all time seemed to slow to a stop as she waited for the impact of the bullet, waited for the blinding pain and for the darkness to overtake her before there was nothing left at all…
But it never came. And when she finally dared to open her eye, she realized that she was still standing, alive and unscathed, and it was the man who was laying motionlessly on the ground. When rationality and reason finally returned to her, Lisa dared to look behind her, and found herself staring at the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen in her life, the owner of those eyes was holding the gun that killed the other man, the silencer tip still smoking.
In spite of their past, of all the differences and tension and maybe even hatred between the two former enemies, Lisa could not help but smile.
"You told me you were a lousy shot."
Jackson shrugged, indifferently. "Sometimes I get lucky."
Relief as Lisa had never experienced before crashed over her like a tidal wave, overwhelming her with such emotion that she never bothered to stop the tears that flooded her eyes, blurring Jackson's form in her eyes. Then, before she knew it was happening, before she could stop herself, she closed the distance between them in one short sprint, her arms synching around his lithe waste before either had a chance to stop the action. She would never be entirely sure why she embraced Jackson like she did, even when she thought back on her actions at a later time. Perhaps it was merely seeing someone familiar, someone who was not a stranger using her from some twisted plot, regardless that it had been Jackson himself the first time around. Or maybe it was just the relief of feeling someone solid and warm against her own body. Or maybe it was because she knew that even if there was a part of Jackson that was still intent on taking his revenge on her, then at least she knew that as long as she was with him, nothing else could hurt her.
"Leese…"
The slight rasp of Jackson's voice pulled Lisa back to reality, making her suddenly embarrassed by her actions. Christ, what was that all about? This man tried to kill me and my father and I'm suddenly as happy to see him like a childhood friend?
There was a brief flicker of confusion in Jackson's eyes when Lisa broke her contact with him, confusion and something else she could not name, but then it was gone as his all-too-familiar icy façade fell back over his expression. "Come on. We have to get out of here before more come."
Damned if I do, damned if I don't.
Jackson took hold of Lisa's wrist with one strong, calloused hand, and before she had a chance to protest, he was pulling her towards the exit of the building.
Looks like I'm damned if I do.
It was as though everything was happening in slow motion. The two former enemies broke out into a run as voice sounded from behind him, running side-by-side as they crossed the threshold just as gunfire resonated through the warehouse, and Lisa was just behind Jackson as they tore across the old weed-choked field outside the warehouse, the sky ablaze with the coming dusk. Down the crumbled driveway, past a handsome BMW Z-4, and towards a worn down, beaten van that stood as though waiting for them, the engine humming. As they approached, the side door was flung open, and a petite woman with dark hair poked her head out, yelling at Jackson to "move his ass", if Lisa could remember right. Jackson did not enter the van right away, but rather waited until Lisa was successfully inside before climbing in himself. The door slid shut with an empty bang, and time resumed its normal pace.
Lisa blinked, at last coming with terms with what had just happened. She had just been rescued by Jackson Rippner, and was now in a van with him and three other people that she assumed were his companions; the dark-haired woman wearing a black tank-top and cameo pants, a blonde, squatter man who was driving the vehicle, and a lanky, horse-faced man who was staring at Lisa intently from other the front seat.
"Welcome aboard, Miss Reistert!" The lanky man greeting, grinning broadly.
But before Lisa could ask who any of them were, or why Jackson of all people was the one who rescued her, something closed over Lisa's mouth and nose, and the familiar rank of chloroform invaded her senses.
"Sorry, Leese." Jackson's voice said from behind. "But we can't have you freaking out and telling anyone where we're going."
And for the second time in forty-eight hours, Lisa was consumed by the inky blackness of unconsciousness.
-x-x-x-
Swaying to the rhythm of the new world order and
Counting bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums
The boogeymen are coming, the boogeymen are coming
Keep your head down, go to sleep!
To the rhythm of the war drums
Stay with me,
Safe and ignorant
Just stay with me
Hold you and protect you from
The other ones
The evil ones
Don't love you son
Go back to sleep
-x-x-x-
Author's Note: Don't let that little tender moment daunt you. Just because Lisa was happy to see Jackson at that split second, doesn't mean that it's going to last, especially after she gets chloroformed…again. Poor girl. This is not a fluff fic…that's about as fluffy as it's get for a long while…and so there is much of our beloved Jackson/Lisa angst and drama to come.
