Author's note: Thanks everybody for their kind reviews! This is going to be the last update for a while now, as a. I'll be out of the country for a few days and b. I have managed to write myself into a bit of a pickle. Buy one, get one writer's block for free! Arghs.

Chapter 15

Lisa's voice was incredulous. "You … you planned this, didn't you?"

Jackson sighed and rolled his eyes. "I took precautions, yes. If it's any consolation, it was supposed to be Plan B."

"What turned it into Plan A?"

"Whitley."

Lisa thought she might burst into flames. Before she knew what she was doing, she had pushed him, going after Jackson with clawed hands. "You jerk! You ruined everything! Let me leave right now!"

He blocked her, but didn't answer in kind. She kept trying to hit him until a sharp pain in her back made her yelp and Lisa paused, breath wheezing.

Cherry, who had stayed by the door and was watching them with growing interest, coughed. "The scabs must have come off, she's bleeding again."

Jackson looked down on Lisa. "Cease fire?"

She replied through clenched teeth. "For now."

A slight smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Leese." Jackson shifted his gaze to Cherry. "Can you check on those cuts?"

"Sure." As soon as he had left the room, the "bartender" turned to Lisa. "You're feisty - I think he likes you."

"What on earth makes you think that!"

Cherry shrugged. "He hasn't killed you yet, has he?" Noticing the irritated glance Lisa shot her, she added with a grin, "That's almost as good as eloped in our world."

Lisa closed her eyes, this whole thing was a bit too much for her - her head was throbbing, her back hurt and she was so, so tired of it all … . She kept telling herself that Cherry must be involved in terrorism as well and thus could not be trusted. Maybe it was just the fact that she was with another woman, but somehow, Lisa calmed down.

Cherry led her to a clean mattress in the corner, talking to her in a quiet, soothing voice. Taking off the shirt was awful, the dried blood had all but glued it to her bruised and sore skin and Lisa bit down hard on her lip.

"There we go, lie down on your belly." Cherry opened the clasp of Lisa's bra and clicked her tongue. "I'm going to get an antiseptic, we need to clean this. Be back in a minute."

A few moments later she returned and sat down next to Lisa. "I'm afraid this is gonna sting. Easy now."

The burning sensation elicited a suppressed groan from Lisa and she was surprised when she felt Cherry blow cool air onto her back. "What exactly is it you do, Cherry?"

"I'm in retail." Gently, she dabbed the disinfectant onto Lisa's skin.

"Selling what?"

"Weapons."

"You're a gun runner!"

"Oh not only guns, hon." Cherry's tone was conversational, chatty, as if her job was no different from a million others.

"Were … were you involved in the Keefe assassination?" For some reason, Lisa prayed the answer would be no.

Cherry chuckled. "I'm involved in everything Jackson does."

She couldn't help but ask. "Are you two …?"

"Lovers? No. We're business partners."

"So when you were … when it looked as if … well, in the maintenance room at the club. You actually planned to do this?"

"Yes." Lisa detecteda smile in the other woman's words. "You seem angry."

"Gawd, you people always notice, don't you?" Lisa grimaced when another cut was protesting its treatment with the antiseptic.

"Yeah well, us bartenders are a fairly intuitive bunch."

"Don't, Cherry, just don't. You know what I mean."

Silence.

"Lisa, our life depends on assessment. If we can't read people, we're dead."

"So what do you read in me?"

Lisa heard the top being screwed back onto the bottle and gave a little sigh of relief. At least that part of her ordeal was over.

"I read a fish out of water. I read resilience, but vulnerability. There's a whole story to you that I don't know yet and it might have something to do with the scar on your chest."

"Jackson told you." Lisa hadn't intended it to do so, but it sounded like an accusation.

"Jackson told her what?" Jackson's voice from the doorway startled her and instinctively, Lisa pressed her naked torso further into the mattress, cheeks hot with embarrassment.

"About the scar." Cherry got up and stretched her legs.

"But Jackson didn't." He was smug - Lisa didn't even have to look at him to see the familiar expression on his face.

Cherry's cell phone rang and she answered it with a curt hello before she left the room. Lisa's eyes darted around for something to cover with, maybe even a weapon, when she heard Jackson approach her with slow steps.

"Oh please, I'm not going to jump you, Leese. In whatever sense of the word." He sat down where Cherry had sat just a minute ago and Lisa tensed up. "Does it hurt?"

"What do you think, Sherlock?" she hissed.

"I think it does. I'm just trying to be polite here – that's more than I can say about you, by the way."

"What do you expect, Jackson? You are responsible for that pain – and the one in my head, not to forget about that. Let alone the fact that you kidnapped me." Lisa swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears at bay.

Jackson was quiet for a minute and she held her breath. She was barely a match for him on a good day, but here and now, bruised and battered, half-naked, tired and lonely, Lisa knew she stood no chance against him. Her defiant words were just that - words. She shuddered when she sensed him move.

"I brought you some aspirin. Here." Jackson poured a glass of water and put it next to her on the floor.

When she didn't take it, he uttered an exasperated grunt. "For crying out loud, Leese." He cursed. "Look at me, damnit."

Reluctantly, Lisa lifted her head towards him and with a mocking gesture, he covered his eyes with his hands. "Happy?"

"I'd be happier if you just left me alone, Jackson."

"Your wish is my command." The taunt in his words belied their meaning.

In long, angry strides Jackson crossed the distance to the door and slammed it shut behind him.

"Let's just see if you can handle what you wished for!" Even though his voice was muffled, the sarcasm in it was as clear as a bell.

Then the light went out, turning the room pitch black.