Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's note: Well, this story is definitely nearing the end. The next chapter is the last, full chapter and then there's only an epilogue left ... . Thanks as always for the wonderful feedback, you guys have really been kind to me. And a very big thanks to Royalty09, who kept me sane and on track during this difficult point in the story.
Chapter 39
"Never in my life have I ever been so happy to see a stupid wall."
"Well, Leese, I aim to please." Jackson pointed at a tree. "That branch reaches over and seems thick enough to carry at least one of us at a time."
"Any other day I'd already be on the damn thing," Lisa grimaced, "but my ribs are kind of worried about the climb down."
"What's the matter with your ribs?"
"Ah, nothing … never mind." Of course he didn't buy it and this being Jackson, he'd most likely badger her until she caved in. "Forbish … he kicked me." Lisa ignored his attempt to speak with a confidence she didn't honestly possess. "It's okay, really."
The pain was exquisite. Lisa forced herself to focus on the task at hand instead of the persistent, scorching protests by her various injuries as she slowly made her way from branch to branch, over to the wall and to the ground. It proved to be a tough battle, yet she prevailed, neither choking from the hurt, nor dissolving in tears. After the somewhat rough landing - no surprise there - she must have blacked out, because the next thing her senses picked up was cool, damp grass tickling her skin.
"Well done, Leese." He did a last check on the fresh bandage on her shoulder. "Especially with that 'nothing' of yours. Those bruises don't look too good." When he noticed the sudden stiffness in her body, Jackson shook his head with a sigh. "For crying out loud, I didn't take a naughty peek." He helped her up; the manner in which he whisked the dirt off her back was maybe just a tad too vigorous.
A little taken aback by the underlying accusation, Lisa murmured, "Reflexes, I suppose." She looked at him until he met her gaze. "Sorry, Jackson." That earned her a small, lopsided grin and an eye-roll, which she acknowledged with a shrug. Another entire conversation without actually having the conversation …
Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Lisa gradually returned to reality – the reality of smacking gunfire in the distance. She glanced around; they were in a forest on the other side of a dirt road. "Is Whitley going to pick us up here or …?"
"Not an option, Leese." Did she detect the hint of an apology? "Whitley 'picking us up' means I can kiss my freedom good-bye."
"O-okay … um … I'll wait here and you … you go ahead and do whatever …"
"Not an option, either." Jackson pulled out a map. "Here's our ticket – we find a car, I drop you off at a safe place, end of mission, much rejoicing. That sound alright?"
"Don't ask me like I have a choice."
To describe his expression as 'smug' would have been the understatement of the month. "It's settled then."
They lapsed back into silence, both marching on with determination, but the notion that fueled her strides didn't seem to reach Lisa's heart. Despite her best efforts, she just couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom, of evil spirits that haunted their every step, and on a whim, she brushed Jackson's jacket, desperate to make sure he was real, that she wasn't alone on this grueling journey.
"You know, Leese," his voice chased off the ghosts, "at one point I was about ready to give up."
"Why?" Please keep talking.
"After the initial skirmish, Whitley and I managed to enter the house in search of you. Once inside, the whole thing quickly turned into a veritable case of FHINT, with Forbish's guys swarming us from every direction." Snickering at her confusion, Jackson clarified. "Fucking Hell, I'm In Trouble. Anyway, we suspected you were kept in the basement area, but Forbish must have predicted we'd try there, because he had the door blocked from the inside – with a damn table, no less – which meant we had to go back all the way. Close call … I wasn't completely positive we'd make it."
Oops. Lisa choked out a low "I'm glad you did."
"So am I, so am I. What about you? How did you and Cherry get out?"
Lisa told him, carefully avoiding the part with the heavy, wooden table. Her narrative was driven by anger, shame and reaming guilt, the pictures of Grey and Navy's death flaming before her mind's eye. Reluctant at first, the words soon broke the dam she had erected around her memories; Lisa's fear to drown in the flood made her cling on to Jackson who listened with calm interest. There was a strange comfort in his particular presence, in the fleeting shadows of mutual recognition passing between the two of them, and Lisa realized it actually brought her peace. Only when she finished her story did she notice that they had stopped walking. Lisa found herself leaning against a tree, staring down onto the grass and onto Jackson's feet, which nearly touched her own. One of them was tapping lightly as he spoke.
"You did what you had to do to survive under difficult circumstances, no use beating yourself up about it." The tapping ceased. "Doesn't make you a bad person."
"How very sickly sweet." Forbish's appearance instantly and violently wrecked their moment. "Drop your weapons."
Shivering with fear, Lisa was unable to move a single muscle, her attention firmly glued to the black barrel which – at present - was pointing right at her. Me?
"Your gun, Ms. Reisert." When she discarded it, Forbish raised a brow. "Or should I rather say, 'your guns'?" She let another one fall to the floor. "I admire your quick wit, Ms. Reisert, but do not force me to shoot you in the knee."
Suppressing a sob, she pulled the last one out of the back pocket of her pants and dropped it. Forbish nodded.
"Your offer, Colin?" Jackson seemed only minimally disturbed.
"My offer?" Forbish barked a laugh. "You offer no resistance and I kill you fast."
"What would we be resisting?"
"Don't play the fool, Jackson, it doesn't suit you."
"Wasting precious time here, Colin. It won't be long until your goons start yapping to the government monkeys that you're missing. I haven't given them any of your files, so I suggest you start running right about now."
"And you will keep those files under wrap? I'll be a non-issue?"
Jackson shrugged. "If that's our deal."
"Bullshit, boy." Forbish's harsh tone grew edgy. "Don't try to mess with me, it was me who made you. I taught you everything you know."
"And I appreciate that, which is why your files are safe." Jackson's face displayed an odd mixture of regret, eagerness and loathing. "Now leave before it's too late."
"You got it all wrong, Jackson. The only ones skidding towards the deadline are you and poor Ms. Reisert." He turned to Lisa. "Nothing personal, you understand."
"Ignore her, this is a business transaction between you and me."
"Step away from your weapons." Forbish beckoned them with his Beretta. "Easy, easy, easy. Don't get cute."
They did as told. Lisa frantically sought for an out, for an escape from this mess. Instinctively, her hands gripped the rough bark scraping her back as she slinked away from the tree, ripping off a rather large piece which she hid from Forbish. Never say never, it might come in useful. Jackson stayed close to her.
"The files," Forbish demanded.
Jackson straightened the collar of his jacket. "What if I don't have them?"
"Right," Forbish snorted, exuding an air of unmitigated anger. "The files, Jackson - I want them, you have them, you give them to me. End of story."
"What kind of ending, Colin? Happy or sad?"
Forbish's skin turned a vivid shade of pink and Lisa curled her toes in exasperation. What the hell was Jackson trying to do here? No sooner had she sunk her teeth into that thought that the little wheels started clicking into order. No way is he provoking him without good reason. He's trying to throw him off balance.
"Annoying me won't help your cause one bit." Forbish glared at Jackson as he approached; Lisa could almost taste the danger emanating from him.
Jackson fired off a series of cutting remarks in response. Lisa's breath hitched in her throat at the image of these two predators circling each other in a careful dance with the sole intention to destroy. She refrained from joining them; instead, Lisa attempted to become one with her surroundings, to fade out of their attention – and it worked. Ruthlessly banning all if's and but's, she waited for the right opportunity.
"It's really simple, Jackson. Follow my orders or suffer the consequences," Forbish hissed, clearly at the end of his patience and clearly focused on his former student.
Lisa threatened to start wobbling from nervous excitement. This is it. She flung the piece of bark into the woods, screeching like a banshee. "Whitley! Over here!"
In the end, what it boiled down to was a match of 'young against old'. Both men flinched, both men whirled into the direction of the cracking noise and both men realized it was a fluke in the very same moment, yet Forbish's reflexes kicked in just the one-hundredth of a second too late. Jackson was on him in a heartbeat.
Forbish succeeded in squeezing the trigger before the Beretta flew from his grasp; the bullet missed Lisa by a hair's breadth, close enough to leave a trail of heat along her arm. Flaring anger twisted her guts and with a loud yell, Lisa launched herself into action, screaming and punching at the man who had caused her so much hurt. Not for long, though. After she had landed one particularly good hit, Forbish dealt her two quick jabs – one to the ribs and one to the shoulder – that left her at a loss for air, but with an abundance of colorful, bright spots bubbling behind fluttering lids as she stumbled backwards. Lisa's vision faltered, soon resembling a grainy black-and-white picture of two people trading blows in slow-motion. Blinking rapidly, she moaned, breaking her fall with one clumsy arm which sent out an immediate memo of agony to every single brain cell. It tainted the grainy picture a blurry crimson.
This resembles a fight between a dog and a cat. Forbish's stocky figure was built for strength and he used it like a tank, coming at Jackson straight-on. Jackson, on the other side, stayed on his toes and out of reach – he only moved in to strike at twice his opponent's speed, attacking him in a merciless flurry.
Lisa shuffled onto all fours, cursing the insistent trembling in her weak limbs. A horrified cry broke from her mouth when Forbish's hook slammed into the side of Jackson's head; with what appeared to be his last strength, Jackson rammed a straight fist into Forbish's solar plexus that had his ex-trainer stunned and slack-jawed, crashing to the floor almost on top of her. Lisa's fingers tightened around a rock and she hurled it at his face, registering the crunching sound with grim satisfaction. This one's for Cherry. Forbish grunted, then his eyes shifted to the left; Lisa shuddered as she followed his line of sight and detected one of the lost guns. She kicked at Forbish with all her might, scrambling forward in a panic until she covered the cold, hard steel with her palm. Someone yanked her back and around.
Forbish had one hand on her leg and one hand on another Beretta, but Lisa's position gave her the necessary advantage - her weapon ready, trained on his body, while his was dangling from his grip, obviously scooped up just an instant ago. It was the sentiment in his frozen gaze that finally set her off for good … no fear there, merely astonishment and a great deal of irritation. These things weren't supposed to happen to the mighty Colin Forbish, he was supposed to happen to other people. The message 'you are a nothing' sizzled from his dilated pupils as he assessed her coldly.
"How does it feel?" Her voice sounded alien even to her. "How does it feel, Forbish?"
"What do you expect me to say to that, Ms. Reisert?" Ah, ever the talking snake.
"Nothing." Lisa lifted the pistol further up, aiming at his neck. "It doesn't matter anymore … this nightmare ends now in the only way it can."
Years later, what she would remember most of this particular moment was the overwhelming sense of dread, the dawning realization that it didn't really take much to cross the line, only the almost imperceptible flexing of one's finger on a trigger. And the creeping premonition that crossing the line would forever change one's life.
"Leese!"
Several things happened simultaneously:
Jackson materialized out of nowhere, his clothes torn and bloody, gun in his hand. Lisa was shoved aside and toppled over, instinctively issuing a round of ammunition which ricocheted off a small stone formation. Forbish smelt a chance; he did manage to jerk up his own weapon before Jackson's slugs splattered his head.
Lisa huddled into a tight, quivering ball. It's done, it's over. Any expectations she might ever have had of this precise juncture simply pulverized as an unrelenting maelstrom of fragmented memories swept her away. Better hold on to something or you'll drown. Her subconscious honed in on a distant flicker and Lisa treaded murky waters to trace down its source. "W-why, Jackson?"
"Why what, Leese?" He dropped the shredded remains of his jacket.
"Why … didn't you let me?" Did that hoarse whisper really belong to her? "Why risk it? You know I could have … could have killed him."
"Yeah, I know." Jackson cleared his throat. "I just didn't want you to do it."
There was her buoy and Lisa grasped it, fearing it all the same. Her mouth formed a perfect O, snapped shut, gaped again. Who are you, Jackson? Who could you be?
He regarded her placidly. "I could give you a sob story, Leese, but the truth is, I am what I am. And at the proverbial crossroads, I made that one crucial decision. That was it, that was me switching over to the dark side, eyes wide open." Jackson turned away from her. "I never once looked back."
Lisa needed to understand and even more so, she needed to prove herself right. The sting of doubt had crippled her long enough; it was time to rip it out. "When you look back now, what do you see?"
"A corpse, a very expensive, ruined jacket and you. Beautiful imagery, isn't it?"
"Stop it, Jackson, be honest with me."
Jackson sucked in his cheeks, brushed a hand through his hair. "Honestly?" He frowned, chasing the flies off Forbish with the tip of his shoe. "I'm not really sure."
"I guess that's okay. Maybe it's not looking back that's -"
"You're gonna quote good old Henrietta at me, correct?" He seemed almost hypnotized by the dead body of his former teacher. "Still hanging on to that?"
"I try, yeah."
Lisa briefly nudged Jackson's wrist as she passed him by. With every lonely step deeper into the forest, the iron ring around her chest grew tighter, yet she kept trudging on, determined to follow her own advice.
And when she finally heard him come after her, Lisa allowed herself a little smile.