A/N: If any of you like the show House, I've just started a House fic called Occlusion. You can link to it from my profile. Wheeee.

---

'My parents loved each other!' said the sobbing girl standing across from him. In the distance, cars honked and the city basically hummed with activity. On the roof terrace, however, they were effectively shielded from the city at large and instead looked down over a very serene-looking river.

'I knew your parents,' he replied, pausing to take a long drag at his cigarette. 'And they hated each other like I've never seen two people hate one another.'

Her hands clenched into fists and her jaw popped back and forth like it always did when she was angry about something. She stared at him, her eyes welling up with tears. A moment later, one of the tears ran down her face, but she didn't even bother to wipe it away.

'You don't know anything about them,' she said darkly. 'You have no idea what they went through.'

He coughed on a mouthful of smoke. 'What they went through? How about what they put me through? What they put my wife through?'

'You didn't know them!' she yelled so raggedly that her face turned bright red and she coughed immediately afterwards. 'All you think about is yourself, how things affect you!'

'My wife, my children!' he shouted back, slamming his fist on the glass-top table.

'My parents had to give up everything for you!' she said before sobbing, pressing her balled-up hands to her cheeks.

She looked so defenceless at that point that he backed down and instead took a few more slow drags at his cigarette, keeping his eyes on her. Under his gaze, she didn't move.

'What are you talking about?' he asked in a softer voice with a nonchalant look on his face.

For once in her life, she actually didn't seem to want to say something back.

'You brought it up,' he continued, snubbing out the cigarette in the half-full ashtray on the table.

'When you came into the picture, you became the number one priority,' she said after a period of silence. 'Nothing else was to come between you and your education, your mental preparation, everything.'

'Your point?' he replied haughtily, leaning back in his chair.

'My parents had been married for years before you came along. They met in medical school and fell in love, and when dad was recruited by the Society, he was able to get mom involved too. They were in the Society for ten years before mom got pregnant in 1987.'

'I came into your father's care in 1988,' he said, leaning forward and pointing emphatically at her. 'And in 1999, he said that he was recently divorced.'

'Then he lied to you,' she said, tight-lipped. 'Mom and dad lived in Maine in a little city with a clinic and a psychiatric hospital. Mom would go do things in Boston; dad would deal with people who needed therapy in the area. One day, Matthias Poulain called my parents and told them that dad would be needed in Orangeburg for his "special case," but that mom was not supposed to come along. He forced them to file a separation, sent mom down to Cincinnati. When she got there, she found out she was pregnant but couldn't tell dad. He surprised her one night and showed up, and he saw that she was pregnant. They both cried, fell asleep together, and the next morning, he promised that he would come back, that we would all be a family.'

She closed her eyes. 'It wasn't meant to be. He was assigned you full-time and just grew as distant as you are. My mom gave birth to me alone in her apartment in Dayton, didn't even bother trying to contact him about it, never discussed it with him. She didn't even notify the city that I'd been born to avoid a paper trail. Poulain told him that I died at birth, and he just accepted it. Mom kept me until I was almost eight, and when she finally divorced dad, she… she gave me up to a friend.'

He was just watching her silently.

'You didn't know my mom,' said the woman with a sad smile. 'She really loved me, and I think that my dad would have loved me too if he'd had the chance. The reason why she was so hard on you was because she knew if you hadn't come along, we would have been a happy family in some little suburb somewhere. But you came along, Matthias Poulain came along, and now where are we? My mother lost her mind and had a fatal shootout with a bunch of FBI agents. My father lost his mind and raped a woman he didn't know and was harshly beaten to death. Here I am, kinda floating, I have my adoptive mother, but...'

Her voice just drifted off as she looked at the river. He tapped his box of cigarettes on the edge of the table, offering her the box.

'No thanks, I don't smoke.' she said quietly. 'Kills ya, but so does living, right?'

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. 'Why did your father rape my wife?'

A pause. 'In psychiatry, we find a reason for everything, and trust me, a book could have been written just about my parents. When dad left, mom was just entering the second trimester. He wanted to see her again, to have the entire family together as one in a beautiful, sexual moment, to know that all that was there was his and would forever be his. He wanted to know that he had the ability to bring about that change in her. Mom looked like your wife when she was her age; the grey came after the divorce. Curly hair, soft face, just... kind. In his mind, your wife was mom. Someone even told me that he called your wife by his play name for mom.'

He thought back as the smoke drifted about his head. 'Sunshine.'

'Sunshine.'

His eyes snapped open and he shoved forward with a start. Blinking quickly, he tried to make sense of his surroundings. It was cold and loud, the seat under him was very hard, and it smelled faintly of urine. Bright fluorescent lighting was overhead behind a grate.

'Man, what did you say to me?'

All at once, he realised that there was a large man looking down at him menacingly. Looking across and seeing a subway map, he blinked a couple more times until he managed to come up with something. 'Which... which line are we on?'

'L to 14th,' he replied roughly. 'You from out of town?'

'I'm not completely sure,' he responded, digging into his pocket. He hissed, withdrawing his hand quickly and looking silently at the long gash he'd just created across his palm.

'What the fuck, man?'

The man and his associates moved down a couple of seats as Jackson stood up, never taking his eyes off his hand. It was in this stance that he alighted the train and walked to the opening of the station, in this way that he let his feet take him to Horatio Street, and before he knew it, he was standing in front of a very familiar building. Dropping his hands to his sides, he looked up at the top floors to see half-light. Stepping up the outside steps, he pushed the button for the doorman, and when the old man finally came, he looked as though he'd seen a ghost. With shaking hands, he pushed open the door and looked up at the other man soundlessly. As Jackson walked to the elevator, the man just stood slack-jawed.

'Sir, I don't have a key,' Jackson said smoothly, giving the doorman a smile.

'A key? Key...' he said, shuffling over to the office. 'Mr Rippner, is Miss Lisa expecting you?'

Lisa. Lisa Rippner. The name reverberated in his mind. Lisa, long dark curls, smiling, a few scars, green eyes, loving, pregnant. Crédit Suisse, Jonathan, Hediyeh… Christmas lights?

'Why are there Christmas lights in here?' he asked, just noticing the decor. 'Did you put these up after I left for the office?'

'It's only a couple weeks until Christmas, sir,' the man replied, handing him an elevator key. 'I…'

The man paused before shaking his head and walking off. Jackson watched after him for a moment before taking the card and sliding it to allow him access to the floor. It was dark, very dark, and although his watch was dead, he figured his wife would be in bed by this point. Taking the lift to the top floor, he got out and walked slowly to the bathroom, automatically retrieving the first aid kit and pouring hydrogen peroxide over the cut before taping gauze down to soak up the remainder of the blood. Turning, he walked down to the end of the hallway, sliding open the door to the bedroom as quietly as possible. As he walked around the side of the bed, he peeled off clothing, dropping his jacket on the floor, his tie on the chair, his belt also on the chair, his slacks on the floor, his shirt thrown atop the lamp. Dressed in his undershirt, boxers and socks, he carefully slid into bed next to his wife, pulling his arms around her and relaxing for only a moment because he suddenly realised his arms could no longer fit all the way around her. Lifting the duvet, he looked at her stomach and rubbed it softly, trying to figure out how whilst he was at work, she managed to more than double the size of their infants in her womb.

And, as he held the duvet up, he heard a crinkling as something jumped onto the bed and then the pressure of little feet on his legs. Lifting his head a bit, he looked down to see a large white cat staring back at him. He raised his eyebrows.

'... Alfie? When did you—'

Apparently, he held the duvet for too long or spoke too loudly, because she curled up as a chill went down her back. A moment later, she half-opened her eyes, smiling a bit at the illusion beside her, reaching out to touch his face and suddenly realising that her husband was actually in bed with her. She sat up quickly with a gasp, tears immediately falling down her face.

'Are you real?' she asked in a choked voice. 'Is it really you?'

He gave her a little, uncomfortable smile with his eyebrows knit. 'Yeah, who else would it be, Leese?'

Immediately, her hands dropped down to her stomach. Wrapping her arms around herself, she leaned forward and started sobbing, rocking herself back and forth. After an awkward moment, he put his arms around her and steadied her, kissing the top of her head.

'Leese, it's all right, calm down,' he said uncertainly into her hair. 'It was just a dream.'

'Oh my God,' came a voice from the door, and Jackson looked up to see Carol Bellamy standing there. 'Jackson, just... oh my God.'

'What is everyone—' he started, but Carol had already run back down the stairs, Alfie jumping down to follow right behind her.

'Where have you been?' Lisa managed to gasp between sobs. 'Oh God, Jackson, where have you been?'

'At... work?' he eked out.

Lisa looked up at him, putting a hand on the side of his face. 'Jackson, don't you know how long you've been gone?'

'Since this morning,' he answered confidently. 'I kissed you, rubbed your stomach, which...' he put both hands on it 'seems to have grown exponentially since I left.'

'You've been gone for more than four months,' she said to him, holding the sides of his face as she whispered. 'Four months. No calls, no anything, you just... disappeared. Lyna has been able to track you a little but she... she couldn't do anything.'

Jackson stared at her for a few moments before breaking down in laughter. 'Right, Lisa, what did you do? Is that padding?'

He rolled her shirt up to look at her stretch-marked skin. Carefully running his hands down her stomach, he felt the butterfly kicks of one of the twins and just sat in stunned silence. Her hands came down to rest atop his, pressing them down harder so that Jackson could feel each little flutter.

'Lisa... what happened?' he asked, almost too quietly for her to hear.

'You left,' she said, reaching up again to run her fingers through his hair. 'You left, and we lost you. We couldn't catch you. They wouldn't let us catch you.'

'I don't... I don't remember anything after leaving for work.'

He pulled his hands out from under her one hand, reaching up to hold his face, his eyes scrunched together.

'I had a dream about... Augustine... and woke up on the subway and came home.'

'Jackson,' said Lisa, running her hands down his front. 'Honey, you have blood all over you.'

Jumping up and away from her, he caught his reflection in the glass windows surrounding the room. Down his entire front, there was sticky blood. How he didn't notice it, he had no idea, but as he began to look around the room, he realised it was also on his shirt, his tie, his pants... the only thing spared was his heavy coat by the door.

By this point, the entire house had woken up. Jonathan and Hediyeh stood in stunned silence by Carol and Joe, and Augustine simply slipped forward to check and make sure there wasn't any injury that was causing all the blood on him.

'It's not your blood,' she said softly. 'It belongs to someone else. You don't have any injuries.'

'Who did I—' he started before looking over at the children. Jonathan was looking at him and sucking his thumb, but Hediyeh refused to make eye contact as she held Alfie, burying her face in the cat's fur. 'Lisa, get me something to change into.'

'I'll get it for you,' Augustine replied quickly before Lisa could even move. 'Jackson, she's been ordered bed rest since you've been gone. You two have big babies.'

Jackson looked back at his wife, who just shrugged as she slipped down to lie down again. 'Why don't I remember being gone?'

As Augustine handed him a pile of pyjamas, she gave him a piteous look. 'I tried to catch you when I saw it happening, but you moved too quickly. You had a dissociative fugue and wandered off.'

'Where? Where did I wander off to?'

'Lyna's been trying to track your movements by mapping the kills you've done, but she wasn't able to catch you because, well, she's on the no-fly list,' she said, but he didn't look happy with that answer. 'Russia, South Africa, the Gambia, China, Thailand, New Zealand, Colombia... Christ, you've been so many places, I can't keep track.'

'How did I get back here?' he asked, crazy-eyed.

'Hey, kids, let's let Daddy and Gisa talk this over, okay?' said Carol softly, taking Hediyeh by the shoulders and leading her out.

After the children left, Augustine closed the door behind them and pulled the blinds. The tall twenty-year-old stood with her back pressed against the wall, trying to avoid watching the very unmodest Jackson change into clean pyjamas. He climbed into bed, sitting on his knees next to his wife and looking solemnly at her stomach.

'I missed it again,' he said softly. 'Right when you needed me, I wasn't here.'

'Don't think about it that way,' Lisa said a bit sternly. 'Now we know the problem and we can get help, okay? We can make sure this doesn't happen again.'

He was silent for a few minutes, so Augustine took this moment to walk over and pull a chair next to the bed. Jackson leaned back onto the pillows next to his wife before turning and laying his head on her stomach. A moment later, Lisa started running her hands through his quite mussed hair.

'You can't remember anything?' asked Augustine.

'Nothing,' he said, closing his eyes. 'Like I said, I remember leaving for work, and then nothing. Not until I just woke up on the train.'

'Where was the train coming from?'

'It was the L coming here.'

'Do you have your MetroCard?'

He thought for a moment. 'It's probably in my pants, or in the coat pocket.'

After looking around for a moment, Augustine turned and took his coat from by the door. Picking it up, she'd already started digging through the pockets when the smell of the coat hit her. She expected the coppery smell of blood that was all over his other clothing, but instead, she was greeted by the smell of cloves. Immediately, she froze in place before pulling the coat closer to her nose and taking a deep whiff of it.

'What are you doing?' asked Lisa with a raised eyebrow before Jackson had a chance to ask.

'You probably won't remember, but Jackson, when did you start smoking clove cigarettes?' she asked, holding up the coat questioningly.

'Clove cigarettes?' he repeated before smacking his mouth. He didn't taste anything specific, not even the normal, faint flavour following a cigarette and gum. 'I don't think...'

Augustine held the coat to her nose again before walking over and throwing it atop him. He took it and pulled it toward him, taking a deep smell of it before closing his eyes.

'Nitsa,' he murmured, his eyebrows knit.

'Nitsa?' asked Augustine, reaching out to take the coat from him, but he held onto it tenaciously. 'What's a nitsa?'

'Who is a Nitsa,' Jackson replied in a dazed voice, still holding onto the coat with his nose pressed to the wool. 'My assistant.'

'Jackson, you don't have an assistant named Nitsa,' said Lisa, pausing her fingers in his hair to tug at it a little.

'No, let him go on,' Augustine muttered. 'Do you remember anything about Nitsa?'

His eyes opened and he focused on Augustine. 'All I can remember is a woman's voice.'

'Nitsa's voice?'

'No,' he replied quickly, rolling his eyes back in thought. 'She has to have been a flight attendant.'

'A flight attendant on a flight to where?' Augustine asked imploringly, dropping down to her knees and putting her hands on his.

'I don't...' he replied quietly, drifting off. A moment later, he spoke again. 'Bonjour Mesdames, bonjour Messieurs. La Compagnie Air France, le Commandant Couturier et son équipage vous souhaitent la bienvenue à bord du vol à destination final de Genève. Nous allons décoller dans quelques instants; veuillez attacher vos ceintures et éteindre vos cigarettes.'

'Air France? No, we checked their flight—'

She didn't even have time to finish before he continued. 'Nous vous rappelons qu'il est strictement interdit de fumer dans les toilettes. Notre appareil Gulfstream 550 volera à une altitude de 13 016 mètres, et l'atterrissage est prévu pour 18 heures sur l'Aéroport International de Genève. Nous vous prions maintenant de redresser le dossier de votre siège, de remettre en position droite la tablette devant vous, et de vous préparer au départ.'

'Gulfstream,' said Lisa suddenly, picking out one of the only familiar words in her husband's stream of conscious French ramble. 'Why was he on a Gulfstream?'

There was a pregnant pause during which Augustine's face turned bright red. 'What's a Gulfstream?'

Lisa gave her an odd look. 'It's a private jet.'

There was yet another pause before Augustine got to her feet, pried the coat from Jackson's hands and walked towards the door, a blank look on her face. 'I need to go find Lyna. Stay here with Jackson and make sure he doesn't wander off.'

Lisa reached down and put her hand squarely on Jackson's chest. 'He'll go absolutely nowhere.'

He smiled lightly with his eyes still closed, bending his arm to put his hand atop her own. The door clicked shut as Augustine left, and after a few minutes, Lisa turned her hand to squeeze his.

'Hey, let's try to get some sleep, okay?'

He nodded and with a grunt, sat up a bit and rolled back to his place, setting his head on his pillow and waiting for Lisa to get comfortable. It was a much longer process than usual, he realised with a bit of humour, but once she settled on her side with her back to him, he happily nuzzled right up next to her, throwing his arm over her waist. Rubbing at her stomach, he kissed her neck and furrowed his brow when she started crying.

'Leese?'

'Hormones,' she said with a little laugh before becoming serious. 'You can't imagine how much I missed you and how happy I am that you're home.'

He didn't even respond, instead pressing his nose to the back of her neck and just concentrating on her breathing as he drifted off to sleep.

---

'Do you need me to get you anything, Christian?'

He slowly opened his eyes, trying to focus on the source of the voice, but all he could see was a beige and red blur.

'Let him alone, my dear,' came a quite familiar voice, and he turned his head to look at the blurry man sitting across from him. 'Go back to sleep—we'll wake you when we get back home to Geneva.'

'Why is everything blurry?' he asked, rubbing his eyes.

'You have his glasses, Matthias.'

The cloudy shape in front of him moved around before leaning forward and slipping glasses onto his face. He blinked a couple of times to wet his eyes before looking about the cabin of the private jet. There were two other passengers besides him, a stewardess sitting in a front seat wearing a tailored suit, and the female pilot and male co-pilot with the door open between them and the cabin. The man sitting across from him looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place him, and the woman to his left didn't bring up any sensation or memory. It wasn't that she wasn't pretty—in fact, she was moderately beautiful—but as much as she acted like she knew him, he didn't feel like he knew her at all.

He stared straight at her for a minute or so. 'Who are you?'

'Matthias!' she said, knitting her brow and looking at the old man.

'Nitsy dearest, you've studied this before,' he said smoothly. 'He probably won't remember anything. We've found him now, that's all that matters.'

The woman looked at him, tipping her head to the side and reaching out to rub the side of his stubbly face. 'I'm your Nitsa.'

'What's a nitsa?' he asked, looking between the woman and the other man.

'Her name is Nitsa, my boy. Your assistant and doctor,' the old man said with a smile before he coughed heartily. 'Don't worry; it will all come back to you. Just go back to sleep.'

He turned onto his side again, looking at the woman across from him. She had long, straight blonde hair, but it looked very much like her hair was naturally wavy and dark considering the sort of frizzy texture of the hair. She was wearing a very conservative suit, pantyhose and quite tall high heels, so he could only see her hands and face, but both were olive toned. She wore too much make-up, he thought, but he also thought she had a very interesting face. He had a vague memory from an unknown time where a nameless redhead discussed women used by plastic surgeons to show students perfect faces, and he had a feeling that this woman's face could be used. Something just seemed very balanced about it, from her almond shaped, almond coloured eyes to her full lips.

She chattered to the old man, but every word was a blur to him as a headache suddenly stabbed into his temple. Moaning, he pressed his head to the seat, the arms of his glasses digging into his face. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard the one called Nitsa demanding that the stewardess turn down the lights, and they were soon bathed in darkness. It didn't help his headache, but a few moments later, he felt a hand on the back of his head.

'Can you look at me?' she murmured, reaching under his chin and lightly pulling his face from the leather.

He looked at her almost drunkenly, his eyes refusing to focus. She brushed his hair back and for a moment, he could swear he smelled fresh soap and felt soft skin. In the darkness, her hair looked brunette, and he felt at ease remembering a comforting brown-haired woman.

'Put this under your tongue—it will help,' she said, pressing a chalky pill against his lips.

He unwillingly opened his mouth and she slipped the pill in, closing his mouth after she did so. Smiling, she kissed him lightly on the lips and reached up to take off his glasses. He relaxed as the pill melted below his tongue, quickly taking away his nausea and at least the edge of the headache. As he was able to concentrate on something other than pain and confusion, he found himself taking in the sounds and smells around him.

Without looking at the woman, he spoke to her. 'You smell different. Did you change your perfume?'

She didn't directly answer him, instead muttering something to the old man, who responded affirmatively before coughing again.

'Good night, dearest,' she said into his ear before the harsh odour of rubbing alcohol hit his nose. He scrunched it up before feeling a tiny prick on his upper arm, and a moment later, an immense exhaustion came over him.

The last thing he remembered was a blanket pulled over his shoulder and the old man speaking.

'This is going very well.'

Jackson shot up in bed, breathing hard as the alarm next to Lisa's head started blaring. Staring at the duvet cover, he tried to calm his breathing before shaking his head and then pressing his hand against it, his eyebrows knit. As he took a deep breath, Alfie stood up from Lisa's legs and walked over, rubbing her face against Jackson's. He blinked quickly as his wife stirred next to him, making a happy little moaning sound before stretching her arms then slowly propping herself up to lean over and kiss him, scratching Alfie's head.

'Good morning,' she said sleepily before laying her head on his shoulder. 'Wanna help me with my morning toilette?'

He stayed in shock for a few more seconds before closing his eyes, swallowing, then turning his head to her. 'Why don't we take a bath? Go ahead and go in there and start the water, and I'll come in after I write some things down.'

She looked at him for a moment before smiling sleepily. 'Kay.'

Carefully shifting over, she dropped her legs over the side of the bed, took another long stretch, then shoved herself up with one hand on the bed and the other under her stomach. As she hobbled towards the door and down the hall to the bathroom, Jackson felt himself suddenly plagued with something akin to guilt as he realised that he hadn't been here for the one of the biggest transitions in her pregnancy. She'd been showing pretty well last he remembered, but now she seemed so large that her entire centre of gravity was thrown off, and she even had a good amount of time left before the birth. Her hands were pressed around her lumbar spine, supporting her as she walked slowly, and it took him a few seconds to stop his deep thinking after she disappeared into the bathroom.

Looking around, he sprawled across the bed, opening the drawer on Lisa's nightstand and grabbing a pad of paper and a pen. Sitting back up, he took the pad into his lap and stared at the blank page for a second before scrawling furiously. It looked nothing like his normal handwriting, he realised with a bit of a start, and paused for a moment to look at his hands. Slowly shifting the pen from his left to right hand, he furrowed his brow and closed his eyes for a moment, but didn't let all this interrupt his chain of thought. The paper was soon filled with keywords and phrases: Christian; Nitsa; Matthias; blonde-haired, brown-eyed woman who smelled of cloves and spoke slowly; home in Geneva; harsh coughing; rubbing alcohol and an injection. After a long moment of staring at the jumble of words, he set the pad over to the side and got up from the bed slowly, following Lisa's footsteps to the bathroom.