Chapter 7

„Ms. Reisert? Excuse me! Ms. Reisert!" Whitley was running after her, but she didn't feel like talking to him. Lisa didn't feel like talking to anybody right now. She yanked herself free as he tried to take her arm.

"Ms. Reisert, please." Whitley raised an eyebrow when Lisa just glared at him, her jaw set. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude, it's just that this whole building is classified. I can't let you walk alone. Don't worry, we don't have to talk, I'll just bring you back to the Chief."

"I take you by your word, Mr. Whitley."

He kept it. They walked without speaking and when they arrived at Keefe's office, he merely nodded at her and left after knocking on the door.

"Come in!"

Lisa entered and sat down. She had kept her cool in that stuffy interrogation room, but all the tension she felt inside needed a release soon. It was the old dive up from the bottom of the ocean. Pull yourself together, you can do this.

"Do you need anything? Something to drink? A snack?" Keefe sounded worried and when Lisa caught a glimpse of herself in the window, she understood why. Her face was deathly pale and her whole body language screamed distress.

"No thank you. I would just like to have a moment by myself somewhere. Is there maybe a bathroom … ?" Her mind slid into memories and she bit down on her lip until she tasted blood.

Keefe squeezed her shoulder. "Please stay here. Let me know when you're ready."

The click of the door closing behind him opened the floodgates. Lisa hunched over as a wave of nausea rolled over her and pulled her under. She was flailing against the pain rushing at her, breath short and ragged. Yet this time, deep down, a little voice calmed her. You are unhurt, unharmed. Nothing has changed. Realization hit – even though Jackson Rippner was alive, she was actually okay. And not only was she okay, she was angry, angrier than she had been in a long time. She had let herself become a pawn in a game that she had never wanted to be a part of, with rules she couldn't fathom.

Whitley and Keefe waited outside and immediately stopped talking when she walked up to them.

"Is Rippner still in the room?"

"Yes, Ms. Reisert. Are you okay?"

"I am, thanks."

"Are you su…"

"Yes." She paused. "I would like to talk to him again. Please don't ask me whether I'm sure, I am."

The men regarded her with a mixture of surprise and barely concealed incredulity.

"One condition, though. This time I want no listeners." Lisa's voice was calm.

Whitley cut in, "Ms. Reisert, I'm afraid that's not possible."

Lisa looked at Keefe. "Sir, I have done much for you, I think I deserve to have one of my wishes fulfilled for a change."

Keefe put up his hand when Whitley opened his mouth to speak. "Wish granted. You understand I have to insist on a debriefing immediately afterwards."

"Fine by me."

"It's settled, then. Mr. Whitley, please take Ms. Reisert down to Rippner."

Whitley looked as if he had been slapped in the face. On their way back he tried to argue with her several times, but Lisa wouldn't bugde. He gestured for her to stay when they arrived at the door. "Wait here for a moment."

The guards were gone, which Lisa found a little odd until Whitley brought them out of the room with him two minutes later. He gave her a hard stare and shrugged. "There you go, Rippner's all yours."

In the meantime, Jackson had acquired another bruise on his cheek and his lip was bleeding. The look on his face before he was able to transform back into his old cool self told Lisa he hadn't expected her. Whitley obviously hadn't mentioned it, either.

"Leese … always good for a surprise."

"It's nice you remember." Lisa leaned forward on her chair, both hands flat on the table.

"And this time, she's cocky. What brought you back? I notice the adjoining room's empty ... where's Whitley?"

"I don't know. I wanted to do this in private." She played with her ring.

Jackson said nothing, but merely looked at her with an expression she found impossible to read.

"You see, Jackson, I don't want to play games anymore. You wanted to talk to me, fine, I'll talk to you. BUT … in return I want to know why and I want honesty."

"It's a pity you don't want to play games, they -"

Lisa interrupted his little sing-song dryly, cool. "They are all you got left, I know."

If her voice was dry, his' was the Sahara Desert. "Don't do this, Leese, don't think you're over me. And don't think for a second that I'm helpless."

"What is it you want, Jackson?"

"I told you. Several times, actually, but you just don't seem to get it."

"You want to talk to me, but why?"

"To see how you are."

"I don't believe you."

"That's your problem."

It was like a tennis match. For a while, they kept slamming words back and forth in a heated exchange, but it got them nowhere. Lisa grew edgy.

"What is it, Jack, huh?"

"Don't call me that, Leese."

"What is it? Just tell me."

"Don't be a spoilsport, relax."

She stood up so quickly, her chair fell over backwards. With slow, deliberate steps Lisa walked around the table to his chair. Jackson followed her with his eyes narrowed and she got a rush from knowing that he was just as much at a loss as she had been.

Another step closer. Her legs touched his knees.

It took all her strength, but when Lisa bent towards him and pulled down his shirt with her finger to touch the scar on his neck, she wasn't trembling and her voice was steady.

"Someone do that to you?"

She could see he remembered.

"Is that what it is?"

He didn't react at all how she would have expected. No anger, no spiteful remark, no smirk. Instead, Jackson leaned his head back as if to grant her easier access and looked straight at her. Then he laughed.