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Heal /verb/ (of a person or treatment) cause (a wound, injury, or person) to become sound or healthy again.

"Sir, your three o'clock is here."

Griffin Kerr sighed and hit the intercom button on his phone. "Send him in."

He straightened his tie and glanced at his calendar to remind himself just who his three o'clock was. "Jack Napier." He mumbled, squinting at his computer screen. He wasn't familiar with him. He shrugged and swigged the last gulp of his scotch just in time for his secretary to open the door for Mr. Napier.

"Can I get you anything to drink? Water, coffee or perhaps something a little stronger?"

The tall, almost lanky man sauntered in, winking at Rosy as he passed her. "No thanks, Kitten. I don't plan on being here long."

Rosy blushed, closing the door behind him.

Griffin stood up and motioned to the plush leather chair that faced his desk. "Welcome, Mr. Napier." He smiled politely as he took in the man's appearance. He was obviously wealthy. His sharp suit and shiny Italian leather shoes told him that. "Rosy told me when you set up your appointment that you wish to invest a large amount of money."

The man smiled wickedly. "Uh, in a round about way." He chuckled and rested his elbows on his knees, giving Griffin an overly friendly smile.

Griffin studied his face. A spark of recognition hit him, but he couldn't remember how or where he recognized him. "E-herm. Ok." He shook his head, not really knowing how to take his answer. "Have we met?"

Jack's smile widened. "Why, yes, yes we have. I was at your party."

Griffin's eyes widened with realization. "You were with Jeannie."

"Yes, yes I was. And do you remember what I said to you?"

The older man's eyes narrowed, not liking where the conversation was leading. "It was something along the lines of a warning." His fake smile disappeared, a snide look replacing it.

"Mmm." Jack nodded and leaned back in his chair. "Yes, but what did I warn you about, Mr., uh, Kerr," he mocked.

Griffin sneered and kept silent.

"Come on, I know you remember. Don't make me pry it out of you."

Griffin cleared his throat and looked over to the corner of his office, refusing to look Jack in the eye. "Something about Mr. Samson bothering Jeannette." He waved his arm dismissively, as if he were batting the words he just spoke away from him.

Again, Jack smirked at him. "You can't even say it, can you. You just candy coated it. Well, lucky for you, I have a wonderful memory. I believe I said, referring to Mr. Samson: 'If that dickless asshole ever comes near her again, I'm holding you responsible.' Does that sound about right?"

Griffin's jaw tightened as he looked back at Jack. "What? You're here to warn me again?"

Jack chuckled darkly. "Oh, no, Grrrriffin. I'm afraid I only give people one warning. No, no, no. I'm afraid it's time to pay the piper."

Jeannie's father scoffed. "What do you mean?"

"Oh I think you know what I mean."

He stood up from his desk and pointed towards the door. "I think it's time you leave. You are butting into something that's none of your business."

Jack pursed his lips. "No. This is my business. It became my business when I caught your golden boy beating the shit out of your daughter and trying to rape her."

Griffin looked shocked for a short second and then huffed angrily. "I think you're being over dramatic. You have to understand, Jeannie pushes the envelope. I'm sure she said something to Ryan that was foolish. I doubt he 'beat the shit out of her,' like you so eloquently put it."

"Ha!" His single laugh echoed off of the poshly decorated walls of Mr. Kerr's office. "So, fracturing her orbital socket, breaking her arm and beating her black and blue to the point that she was concussed is me being over dramatic?" He shook his head, noting the man's scoff. The guy really wanted to turn a blind eye to this whole thing. "It's a moot point anyway. I don't think Mr. Samson will be bothering Jeannie anymore." His wicked grin grew. "Sit, we have some business to take care of."

Griffin looked at him defiantly and took a step towards the door.

"Now, now, Mr. Kerr," Jack admonished, pulling out his gun and lazily placed it on the arm rest of his chair. "Don't make me make you sit."

Griffin Kerr had never had a gun pointed at him, and if he had drank any water all day, he was more than sure he would have peed himself. He slowly inched back to his seat and sat down, the smug look completely wiped from his face.

"Good boy." Jack clapped and holstered his gun underneath his suit jacket. "Now, back to business." He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out an envelope. "This is how this is going to go down. Since you have enabled that dick-weed, aka Ryan Samson; denied your one and only daughter help from her abusive and clearly psychotic boyfriend, who also happens to be a major coke head; AND tried to get them back together, knowing he beat the shit out of her, you are going to pay….Literally."

Griffin narrowed his eyes at Jack. "What are you getting at?"

Jack cocked his head. "First, a side note…or question, if you will? Why him? Why such the hard-on for Ryan?"

The older man looked away from Jack, seemingly trying to use his brain. "He is respected in the community. He comes from money, and makes me lots of it, also. He's the only man of his stature that took to Jeannie." He looked to Jack again. "The girl is the black sheep of the family, an embarrassment."

Jack grit his teeth. His anger was getting to him. He very much wanted to give him the same treatment he gave Ryan…but he had other plans for Griffin Kerr. He sucked air between his teeth. "Mmmkay." He drawled sarcastically. "This," he waved the envelope, "is a corrected version of section two of your last will and testament. Don't you worry how I got ahold of your will, I have my ways, but what I thought was interesting was that you left everything to your wife and your son, but not Jeannie. Well, I thought that right there was wrong, so I had it tweaked for you. Here, take a gander." He tossed the envelope in front of Griffin and waited patiently as the man took the document and read it.

He took particular glee in the facial expressions the man was making as he read.

"You want me to leave everything to Jeannie?" He said in disbelief and tossed the few pages at Jack. "I will do no such thing."

Jack shook his head, his smile still on his lips. "Well, at first I was going to have you deposit money into her account every month, enough so she would live comfortably for the rest of her life. Maybe buy her a house and a car or two. But as I thought about that, Jeannie wouldn't have it. She hates you all so much, she'd just let that money sit and rot...Plus, she'd figure this out. But! If and when your impending death happens, and she thinks you left her your fortune, I think she'd be more open to taking your…donation… if you catch my drift."

"I'm not signing. She decided long ago her fate. She doesn't deserve the Kerr family money."

Jack shook his head. "You're not getting it, Griffin. You will sign, or I'll kill you and then forge your signature. Trust me Griffin. I can make this look like a suicide. It would be believable, since you 'updated' your will. I'd take door number one, live your life. Don't make me get my suit dirty." Again, he dug in his suit pocket, pulling out a polaroid and a small thin box. "Here, use my pen." He opened the box, presenting a beautiful green fountain pen in it. He pushed the box onto his desk. "Sign it."

Griffin stared at Jack hatefully and finally swiped the pen out of the box, angrily signing the forged document. "Fine, I'll sign. I'll just have it changed once you leave." He tossed the pen back into its box.

Jack closed the top to the pen box and put it back into his pocket. "I don't think so." He tossed the polaroid he was holding onto Griffin's desk.

Griffin picked the picture up and instantly dropped it once he processed what the picture was.

"I think you'll recognize the pen." Jack beamed.

Griffin pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket and covered his mouth with it. "What…?" He gulped air, almost heaving from the grotesque scene on the polaroid.

Jack grabbed the picture and looked at it, chuckling to himself. "If you change your will, drain your account, or transfer it under your mistress' name, call the police or do anything else that will piss me off including sending crazy ass coke heads to woo your daughter, I will be placing an anonymous call to the GCPD, and they will magically find the pen that killed Ryan Samson. The very pen that you signed and left finger prints on. I made sure to not clean it all the way. I'm sure their CSI team will find some microscopic tissue or blood on there."

He reached over and grabbed the gold plated lighter that was displayed on the wooden cigar box on Griffins desk and lit the picture on fire, destroying any evidence that could link him to the murder of Ryan Samson. He tossed the burning picture into the crystal ash tray and looked at Griffin, who was now as white as a ghost.

"You…you stabbed him in the eye…with…with a pen."

"I sure did." He plucked the signed document and put it back into the envelope. "I'll have this notarized and have the updated version sent over to you." Jack gave him a toothy smile and stood. "I'll be keeping an eye on you, Mr. Kerr." He stood and headed towards the door, but stopped and snapped his fingers, and twirled around to face him again. "One more thing. You make sure you keep your wife in check, too. No more match making for her daughter. And if you tell anybody about our arrangement, I'll consider our deal broken and Mr. Pen will find its way to the cops." He saluted him. "Nice doing business with you, Mr. Kerr. I gotta go pick your daughter up from the hospital."

12 hours earlier.

Jack slipped into the elevator without being seen. He hit the penthouse button and pulled at his black leather gloves, making sure his fingers were snug inside. Shortly after Officer Gordon left, the nurse came back and gave Jeannie a healthy boost of her pain meds and she was out for the count within minutes. Which gave Jack more than enough time to do his thing. The nurse said she'd be asleep for the rest of the night, and since Jack knew she'd be safe, he left her to make a certain stockbroker-cokehead a visit.

He calmly watched the numbers climb upwards and was thankful that the elevator wasn't summoned on any other floor.

The doors chirped then slid open and Jack exited, stalking as quietly as he could down the short hallway, approaching the one and only door on the floor.

He cracked his neck, knocked and waited patiently.

He heard rustling and a string of mumbled curse words come from behind the door, footsteps slowly getting louder until Ryan opened the door, holding an ice pack on his head. He didn't get a chance to compute who was at the door. Jack cocked his right fist back and punched him square in the nose, causing him to tumble backwards.

Jack stepped into the penthouse, closing and locking the door, and then turned to leer at the man laying the floor, holding his now-bleeding nose, writhing in pain on the shiny wooden floor.

"Hiya Ryan. I see Sammy left quite a lump on your head. Sucks being pistol whipped, huh?"

The bloodied man crab crawled away from Jack. "What the fuck are you doing in my home? I'm going to call the cops!"

Jack towered over him. "That's rich, considering you committed a B and E just hours ago."

Ryan backed away from Jack again and stumbled to his feet. "You must have a death wish," Ryan said, holding his nose, making his threat nasally. "You think I'm kidding? One call, and you're gone pal. I know a cop! I'm rich! I can make things happen!"

Jack chuckled and advanced at Ryan, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. "Please. Half the police department can be paid off. As a matter of fact, more than half the GCPD are on my boss's payroll." He looked around, found what he was looking for and dragged him into the dining room, tossing him into a chair. "We're going to have a little chat." Jack said in a singsong voice as he brought out zip ties from his back pocket and quickly tied Ryan's arms around the back of the chair, easily overpowering the stunned man.

"Fuck you." Ryan spat.

He tsked. "Ryan. I really don't think you have a leg to stand on." Jack grabbed another chair and placed it in front of him and sat. "Now, I did warn you, didn't I, Ryan. And you foolishly threw caution to the wind and went after Jeannie anyway. But, I don't blame you. I mean, you clearly didn't know who I am and that I am a man of my word. And now," Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out his favorite switch blade. "you're just going to learn the hard way."

Ryan sniffed, trying, but failing to stop the blood dripping from his now-crooked nose. "All this over a whore." He spat out a glob of spit and blood. "My whore!" He screamed.

Jack grit his teeth and growled at him as he reached out in front of him and back handed the man square in the jaw. "You've got spunk, I'll give you that. Very tenacious. And if it weren't for the fact that you attacked Jeannie and the things you did to her in the past, I think you and I could have been great friends. But, that's just not in the cards for you, Ryan."

"When I get out of this, you're a dead man. You think you can take her away from me? You've messed the wrong guy. You can't get between us! And you know what? She'll pay! She'll pay for what you're doing to me. I'm going to make her hurt. I'm going to break her so bad that she won't be able to walk for months….Because of you."

Jack sighed heavily and shook his head. "Honestly, man. You really are too dumb to realize the depth of shit you are in. You won't be walking out of this place. As a matter of fact, you won't be breathing soon."

"Her father won't let you get away with this. I'm like a son to him."

Jack looked at his switch blade thoughtfully and slowly closed it, remembering he had a plan and he had to stick to it…no matter how much he wanted to slice this guy's throat. He reached into his suit jacket and removed a small box. "Oh don't worry, I'll be paying a visit to daddy after I'm done here." He smiled toothily and popped opened the box, revealing a beautiful green pen, and uncapped it. "Now, before I take care of you, I want you to know that you are a piece of shit, and I am going to enjoy watching you die."

"You're dead!" Ryan screamed and thrashed desperately against the ropes he was tied in.

Jack laughed loudly and without another word, jabbed the fountain pen directly into Ryan's right eye, causing the hysterical man to stop his flailing and droop lifelessly in his chair.

He yanked the pen out of Ryan and cleaned it haphazardly on the dead man's shirt. "You know, I have something corny to say, but I think I'll refrain." He chuckled and shrugged. "Nah, it's too funny not to." He put the pen back in its box. "I guess the pen...is mightier than the sword." Jack tried to stifle his laughter, but couldn't. He clapped Ryan's lifeless body on the shoulder. "Oh man. I am fucking hilarious."

The next few days passed in a fog for Jeannie.

She remembered being driven home from the hospital by Jack and him telling her that he was only a phone call away if she needed him.

When she wasn't passed out from the medication she was prescribed, she was disappointed that Jack wasn't there with her, but knew that he had a life and a job and couldn't be expected to be there all hours of the day….It wasn't like they were dating.

But Jack did text everyday, and Jeannie knew if he had stopped by during the day, or night, when she was passed out, by the can of soup on the kitchen counter, a fifty dollar bill on the coffee table for take out, or the Hershey's chocolate bar on her pillow.

Knowing that Jack was there, even if he always seemed to be there when she was unconscious, made her feel good, and made her feel like someone actually cared about her, which was a foreign feeling to her. She hadn't felt cared for in such a long time.

After a few more days, when Jeannie's eye was no longer swollen shut and she could move around without needing to take pain medication, she went into the bathroom to take stock of her injuries. She refused to look at any mirrors or reflective surfaces for the first few days. It would just bring her more pain, seeing herself in the state she had lived in more often than not when with Ryan.

She stared at herself, looking at her puffy cheek and eye, the purple bruising turning yellow around the edges along with the other bruises that covered her body. She was still very stiff and sore, but at least she wasn't wincing and crying out in pain whenever she moved even a little.

Jack would be there to pick her up in an hour to take her to her doctor's appointment, where they were going to replace her bulky white cast on her arm with a colored, fiberglass one.

She sighed, closing her eyes, and took solace knowing that she wouldn't ever have to worry about Ryan Samson laying another hand on her…and it didn't make her feel as guilty as she'd once thought.

"Bright green." Jack said, staring down at Jeannie's new cast.

Jeannie held it out in front of her, smiling at the obnoxious colored fiberglass. "I like it."

Jack shook his head and grasped it, peering down at the cast. "I like it too. Green's a good color on you, Sugar."

She smirked up at him. "I can knock someone out with this thing." She knocked it a couple times on the table top and laughed at the hearty sound it made.

Jack smirked. "Finish up, greenie. I'd like to get our next stop over with."

Jeannie stuffed the last bite of pie before shoving the empty plate away from her and gave Jack a thankful look when he tossed money on the table.

Waving goodbye to Norm and Linda, they exited their favorite diner and climbed into Jack's car, heading to the club to collect Jeannie's paycheck and to work out some sort of work schedule for her, since she only had one working arm at the moment.

"Thanks for toting me around today. I really appreciate it."

Jack started the car and grunted. He glanced over and then started the car, uncomfortable with her praises. He was more than willing to take her to her doctor's appointment, but he didn't need her to make a big deal about it. He just wanted to make sure she was ok, a strange and uncharacteristic need to make sure a person besides himself was in good health. So when she had mentioned that she needed to pick up her paycheck from work, he'd offered to take her. Tony had just given the keys over to Falcone, and he saw the opportunity to snoop about and also rattle some cages while he was at it.

"Jack." Jeannie said, breaking the silence. "I need to know…"

He nodded ever so slightly. He knew what she was asking, and he hadn't mentioned it to her, at least, not since she was in the hospital.

"It's done."

He smiled to himself at the memory. If he thought hard enough, he could remember the feel of his fountain pen sliding into Ryan's eyeball.

Jeannie nodded and bit her lip. "How-"

"Listen, Sugar, I would be more than happy to give you a play by play, but I don't know if you'd appreciate it…at least not yet, anyway."

Her brow furrowed as she looked over at him and then looked down at her cast. "Did he suffer?"

Jack's left brow rose at her question. "Yes. He suffered, but I don't think he suffered enough…." He shrugged, nonplussed. "But what's done is done."

"Where is he…?" Her question was just above a whisper. "Will you be caught?"

He smiled. "Jean-nie, do you forget that I do this shit for a living? I haven't been caught yet. Don't you worry about me." He patted her on the knee. "Nobody will do this to you again, Jeannie. And if anybody thinks they can, then they have me to answer to."

Jeannie couldn't help but blush, and she instantly felt guilty for the butterflies that erupted in her stomach. Here she was talking about the death of her abusive boyfriend with the man that murdered him…and she was blushing. Deep down, and she hated to admit it, but she thought it was terribly romantic that Jack came to her rescue and got rid of Ryan. The man committed murder for her, and she was ok with it…a little disturbed, but pretty much...ok with it.

"Maybe one day you can tell me all the bloody details."

He chuckled. "Ok, Sugar. I'll be sure to tell you every single gory detail."

They pulled up to the club and Jack groaned, annoyed.

"What's wrong?"

"That." He pointed to the brand new, sleek black Mercedes taking up two handicap spots in front of the building. "I think it's best I don't go in with you. It's one thing to piss off some lackeys, but not the big man…at least not yet."

Jeannie shook her head. "You mean Falcone is here?" She squeaked and looked to the flashy car as if it were going to come alive and eat her.

Jack snickered. "Get used to it, Sugar. He's your boss now."

"You can't go in with me?" She whined, wanting to stick her lower lip out and beg him to go in. She wasn't ready to meet her new boss. He sounded scary.

He rolled his eyes. "You're scared to go meet your mobster boss, yet you're sitting in a car with a murderer. Does that make any kind of sense to you?"

She rolled her eyes back at him and sighed. She didn't know what to say… it was the truth. "Fine." She opened the door, but was stopped before she exited.

"Don't tell them about me." He had a hold of her wrist.

She nodded. "Ok."

He let go of her and nodded. "At least not yet anyway. It's in your best interest. Falcone and my boss don't get along. And I may or may not have royally pissed off Falcone himself."

Jeannie groaned. "Well, of course you have." She shook her head. "Try not to piss anybody else off while you wait." She exited the car and headed towards the building, ignoring Jack's quip telling her it'd be hard not to.

The club was empty, save for her bartender co-workers and a few very large and very Italian looking men loitering around the dance floor trying to look busy. After saying hello to her friends and explaining, save for the gory details, about her absence, she begrudgingly made her way up to the main office, where Falcone was evidently making himself at home.

She knocked on the half opened door and cautiously opened it. "Mr. Falcone?" She peered around the door and smiled nervously at the well dressed man sitting at Tony's old desk.

Another man, who looked like he enjoyed the lasagna a little too much, stepped in front of Falcone defensively. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Jeannie. I'm one of the bartenders…"

"For fuck's sake, Mossimo, go sit down." Falcone admonished, waving his bodyguard away. "You think this little thing is going to take me out?" He shook his head at him and then turned to Jeannie, giving her a friendly smile. "Come in Ms…?"

"Kerr. Jeannie Kerr."

He nodded once and motioned for her to enter the office. "Don't let this big dumb Sicilian scare you. He's here to keep the riff raff out." He gave her a questionable look. "What in the world happened to you?"

"Oh…" Jeannie looked down at her bright green cast and all the sudden felt very self conscious about her injuries. "Ex-boyfriend issues. It's why I missed the past week. I've been in the hospital."

"I see." He frowned.

"Um. Mr. Falcone, I'm here to pick up my paycheck and would like to know if I still have a job… I know it's asking a lot, especially since I can't come back until this thing is off of me." She grimaced, feeling like a lamb in the lion's den. She was in the presence of one of the most feared mob bosses in the whole United States. It was incredibly intimidating, especially when his bodyguard was giving her the stink eye.

Falcone smiled at her. "Please, call me Carmine."

"O…Okay…?" This was too much. Mr. Mobb boss wants to be on a first name basis with her.

"Jeannie, if I may call you Jeannie, Tony told me you are the best bartender he's ever had. The nights you work you rake in…" He turned to the mounds of paper piled on his desk and shuffled through a few sheets until he found what he was looking for. "An extra one to two grand while you're working." He smiled at her as he flung the piece of paper back onto his desk.

"So is that a yes?"

He chuckled and grabbed a highball glass full of what looked to be straight bourbon and took a hefty drink. "That's a yes. That is, once you get that cast off and you don't look like you've been beat to hell. Go downstairs and ask John for your paycheck. See you when you're healed." He gave her a nod and turned around in his chair, dismissing her.

It was something her father would do to her, dismiss her in such a manner. She wanted to stick her tongue out at him, but refrained. She glanced at Mossimo and then scurried out of the office, feeling instant relief not being in such a small space with two scary and intimidating beings in it.

She made her downstairs and looked around for somebody named John. The sooner she got her check, the sooner she could get the hell out of there and back to Jack.

She walked up to the closest guy to her. "Are you John?"

The man, who looked to be her age, smiled at her. He was good looking, and of course, looked to be Italian. "Yes I am."

Luck was on her side. "Great. Mr. Falcone told me that you can give me my paycheck."

"You must be Jeannie?" He smiled politely and motioned for her to follow him. "You're the only one that hadn't picked their check up." He said it over his shoulder as he guided her to the main bar and hopped over the counter. "Did you fall down a flight of stairs or somthin'?" He bent down and grabbed a metal box that was underneath the bar and placed it on top of the counter.

She couldn't put her finger on it, but she did not like John. She was only acquainted with him for a whole sixty seconds and she could tell that he was bad news. "No," she replied flatly.

"Ah." His brow lifted slightly and smirked at her as he unlocked the small box. "Epic bar fight?"

Jeannie's jaw tensed and she refused to answer. It wasn't his business. She wasn't really happy that she had admitted to Falcone about how she got her injuries…

John snickered at her silence and grabbed an envelope that had her name on it out of the metal box. "I hate to see the other guy."

Jeannie swiped the envelope out of his hands. "Me, too." She didn't bother thanking him and hurried to the exit, waving at her co-workers, ignoring the Italians that meandered about and hurried out to Jack's car, feeling John's curious gaze still on her.

Beta'd by Springandbysummerfall