Alright, my darling readers! Another update, just for you. :) Thanks to those of you who did take the time to review: trudes193, Jesscah, Medisha, I Am the Batman Dag Nab It (great name, by the way), Brunette bulma (DBZ forever), and son-of-puji. It's been said a thousand times, but it's the reviews that help an author keep writing. You guys all get heart candy from me. If you're wondering how I found your addresses, well, it's my secret. :)

Here's a little JacksonxLisa conflict for you guys:

Chapter 6: You Like Me Too Much

"Goddamn it!" Lisa hissed, throwing the roll of saran wrap to the floor. She was trying to wrap her arm so she could take a shower, but she couldn't get the wrap to stick to her arm. She looked in the mirror, running her fingers through her short curls. Cheryl had been kind enough to fix her hair the night before, making it look like a little less of a deranged hack job. The other woman had also dyed her hair a dark shade of brown, which Lisa actually loved.

She had been at the Rippners' for two days. She hadn't seen much of Jackson or Caleb- just Cheryl. Being in the house was still awkward for her. Cheryl had told her she was welcome to come down to the main floor when she was hungry, or if she wanted to socialize, or if she needed help with something.

Even with permission, Lisa was still uncomfortable. She had stayed in her room for the most part yesterday, coming down to eat (alone) and only interacting with anyone when Cheryl came upstairs to fix her hair and to change her dressing. Not much was said between them. Caleb was in and out of the house, and had only checked her once. Not much was said during the visit; it was strictly business. Lisa had no idea what Jackson had been up to since he left her room.

The new brunette placed a hand on her stomach as the growling reached her ears. Maybe she should eat first, and then worry about the shower. She made her way down the stairs, happily inhaling the smell of bacon that permeated her senses.

"Morning, Cheryl," she greeted as she walked into the kitchen. She halted in her tracks.

"Not here," Jackson replied, not taking his eyes from a newspaper that was resting on the counter. Lisa nodded hesitantly, looking around the kitchen. If Caleb was gone again, it meant that she was alone with Jackson.

"Are you going to hurt me today?" she blurted out, and was surprised to hear how condescending her words came out. Jackson looked up at her, smirking.

"Maybe tomorrow." He resumed his reading. Good night, Westley. Sleep well. Good work. I'll most likely kill you in the morning.

"Comforting." Lisa muttered, walking to the fridge. She was dying for scrambled eggs with toast, and the smell of Jackson's food wasn't helping. She glanced at the wall clock. 11:00. Looks like Jackson was on as odd a sleep schedule as she was- breakfast for lunch.

"When will she be back?"Jackson shrugged.

"Around 6. She's at work. Tired of being the housewife, I guess. Or maybe tired of being a servant."

Lisa nodded, cracking two eggs open into the pan. Her arm was doing better than she expected. It was still stiff and sore, but it was completely usable. It was mostly itching like crazy, which she had always heard meant that it was healing. Looks like Caleb was right- she could keep it.

"I'll change your bandage after you shower."

Lisa slid her eggs onto a plate, grabbing her toast from the toaster. "Do I smell that bad?" she asked, buttering the toast.

"Yes." Ouch.

"Well, I'm not taking one until Cheryl gets back." she said, sitting down at the counter with her plate.

Jackson smirked. "I had no idea you were into that," he mused, actually breaking from what must have been a fascinating story to look at her. Lisa blushed and narrowed her eyes.

"Yeah Jackson. I get off on Cheryl weilding plastic wrap. Really gets me going," she shot back, and spoke very rapidly, embarrassed, "I'm just having trouble wrapping my bandage. Don't want it to get wet."

Jackson took a bite of his eggs. "I'll wrap it." Lisa shook her head, and Jackson rolled his eyes. "You can either suck it up and let me help you, do it yourself, or sulk around until Cheryl or Caleb get back." He closed his paper and turned his attention back on her. "Well?"

Lisa shrugged. It wasn't like she was asking him to take a shower with her. He had already changed the dressing once, and this wasn't any different. "Fine," she resigned, chewing on her toast. "What does Cheryl do?"

Jackson smirked. "She works for Fresh Air," he said pointedly, waiting for her to make the connection.

Lisa was mostly unfazed. "So that's how you got a seat next to mine. I had wondered about that." It wasn't the only thing that she wondered about. "How did you get away?"

"You always underestimate me," was all he said.

Lisa swallowed hard. There was something that had been nagging her since the Greyhound ride, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to know the answer. She ate in silence for a few minutes, stealing glances at Jackson. He was still reading his paper, and almost seemed to forget that she was there.

"You were always planning on me taking the fall, weren't you?" she finally asked. Jackson turned to look at her, furrowing his eyebrows but remaining quiet. She continued, "If Keefe had died, it was me that authorized the change. I couldn't very well say that you made me, because I did that now and they think I'm lying."

Jackson's face hardened, and he stood up. "That is the dumbest question that you have asked since we met, Leese." He grabbed her good arm, pulling her from her chair and leading her up the stairs. "I have told you and told you that if you would have just listened to me, things would have been fine." Lisa tried to pull her arm free, but Jackson yanked it harder. "But no, you had to be the hero." He looked back at her, the cold manager look in his eyes, "I get it, Leese. You needed redemption for what happened to you with that last asshole, but you picked the wrong man to fuck with."

Lisa tried to interject, but he wasn't done. "The feds would have had no problem believing you before you shoved a goddamn pen in my throat and stole a car like some kind of psycho." Lisa stumbled, but Jackson kept his grip and pace, which was making it hard to stay on her feet.

"Let go!" she managed to cry out, trying to dig her heels. This time she hit the ground, but Jackson pulled her right back up and kept moving.

"If you would have just made the call and shut up about it, you wouldn't be here, and I wouldn't be here." Even in her struggle, Lisa noticed that he avoided mentioning her dad again. He shoved her into the bathroom and pushed his face in close to hers. "And you dare accuse me of trying to set you up. They would have put on a manhunt for Jim Richards, but by then, I would have been on my way back to New York under a completely different name, and you would be fine."

"I'm sorry," Lisa replied in irritation, using her arm to push him back. She wasn't sure what else to say, and she was getting tired of getting thrown around by him. Jackson put his hand on her face and turned her back to face him.

"Stop being so weak, Leese. You did what you thought was right. It was female-driven of course, but then..." he dropped his gaze, scanning her figure quickly. "That's to be expected. Just don't accuse me of setting up an innocent person." Was it Lisa's imagination, or did he sound a little hurt? He pushed Lisa onto the toilet lid and took a step back, retrieving the discarded saran wrap from the floor.

"W-why did you give me your real name?" Lisa asked hesitantly as he wrapped her bandage. She didn't want to set him off again. Jackson exhaled sharply through his nose, clenching his jaw tightly.

"How many times do I have to say that I never lie to you?"

She shook her head. "No, I know. I just- why don't you lie to me? You lie to lots of people."

Jackson shrugged. "When it serves me, I lie. When it doesn't, I don't. It doesn't serve me to lie to you." Lisa smiled humorlessly.

"For now," she said, watching him grab the duct tape.

"For now," he repeated. He sealed the saran wrap and looked up at her. There was no anger in his eyes, only a familiar emotion that Lisa couldn't place. She had seen it many times during their flight, but was too preoccupied to think much about it. The two fell silent for a few moments, staring at each other. Lisa realized in frustration that she just couldn't read him, and broke the eye contact.

Jackson got to his feet. "I'll be in the basement when you want me to change your bandage." He walked out, leaving Lisa to wonder what the hell that was about. What was behind that look?

She removed her clothes and stepped under the warm water. She watched the water run down her body, over the scar. "Did someone do that to you?" It hit her: that'swhere she had seen the look! In the bathroom, when he had asked her about the scar. Was that why she never went out, why she kept to herself? he had asked. She had lied, and told him no. His jaw had clenched, and that same look flashed in his eyes before he lost control. She had almost passed out before he finally released her and announced for the first time that he never lied to her, his voice bitter. It had almost sounded like he was his voice was breaking when he flung down the paper towels.

In the days that passed, she had wondered what exactly made him so angry. He hadn't snapped to that extent when he saw her mirror message, so she knew it probably wasn't that. Apparently, it was the lies, but lies about a scar that had nothing to do with him? Lies about what drink she preferred? In the grander scheme of things, those lies were nothing. Small lies. When she had pretended to continue talking to Cynthia after the phone dropped its signal, he had almost seemed impressed. Even when she left that message on the mirror, he had shoved her roughly against the wall and given her hell, but he had kept her head cushioned to prevent real pain. She had been scared, obviously, but not in real danger. No, it wasn't until she lied about her scar, a lie that affected his job in no way, that he physically threatened her life for the first time.

And she never understood it. Until now, and even now, she still didn't get it. There was obviously a connection. He had said more than once since she got here that people do what they have to do. She knew that he had been angry with her on that plane for leaving notes and trying to undermine him, but he obviously had expected some resistance. He probably thought of it as something that she thought she had to do. Even when he knocked her out to get the book back, he brought her aspirin for the massive headache she had. He had said it was because he needed her coherent, but aspirin wasn't going to have that effect.

Why had he lost control over a scar and some vodka? Why was he so offended that she thought he had set her up for Keefe's death? He was willing to kill her dad if she didn't cooperate, and he tried to kill her when she did screw up his plans. He had helped with the planned assassination of Keefe, who was a good man, not to mention his innocent wife and children. Why would he expect her to never think that he was planning on letting her take the fall? Even if everything had gone to plan, she still would have had purposely moved Keefe to the room where he was going to be killed. Why would they ever have just let her off?

Lisa thought about Jackson's expression when she had asked about Keefe's family. Did she imagine the hint of remorse in his face? The hard swallow that usually accompanied fighting off emotion? Were his eyes really more watery than usual? Hard to believe a man like Jackson getting choked up over the same event he had just helped put into play, unless he was a pawn like her. And she doubted that.

There was definitely something there, some unknown reason behind his actions in the bathroom and in that seat. The more she had thought about it, the more of a contradiction he was. When she had told him about the scar, he had listened without speaking for the first time that night, a look of what appeared to be concern in his eyes. When he had said that it was beyond her control, it wasn't a question. The inflection and the tone seemed more almost reassuring, like he could tell it still conflicted her and he was reminding her of the fact. She remembered, but still couldn't read his expression when she said that she would never let it happen again. Pity? Remorse?

And he had given her his real name. She knew it was probably stupid to focus on that, but it really seemed like an important fact. What if...no what if's. She shook her head. No, what if it was a mistake? What if he never intended to introduce himself as Jackson Rippner, but he slipped up?

Why would he do that?

For the same reason that I came here even though he tried to kill me. He's drawn to me. For some unexplainable reason, despite the fact that he had to use me, he still cares. He wants me to know him. He wants to know me. He doesn't lie to me, and he doesn't want me to lie to him. And why did he even invite me to the bar? There was no reason for him to buy me a drink and chat me up. He would have gotten what he wanted anyway once we were in those seats.

Lisa froze mid-conditioning. It was true. There was no real reason for Jackson to talk to her at all before that flight. He hadn't been trying to seduce her into doing what he wanted. He hadn't needed her trust for anything. When they had been in that bathroom, he hadn't needed to get so close to her face and practically nuzzle her cheek with his nose as he strangled her. When they had been grappling in her bedroom, he could have broken her neck right there with his bare hands or actually strangled her to death, but he had hesitated. It was only when she had called him pathetic that he had thrown her down the stairs and continued his assault.

She recalled him telling her that he had watched her for two months before the flight. He seemed to have followed her everywhere- work, home, when she went out...was it conceivable that he had developed some kind of attraction to her? Was that why she practically had to drag a physical fight out of him? Was that why he lost it over the small, personal lies? Was it why he gave her his real name and called her by a personal nickname?

Jesus...Lisa finished rinsing her hair and scrambled out of the shower. She quickly dried, tearing off the waterproofing with a sharp gasp. She dressed and quickly headed toward the stairs. Hundreds of questions were swarming her mind. Most of them concerned Jackson, but there was one big one intended for herself- if Jackson had had feelings for her, and if he still had them, how did she feel about it? What exactly would she do if she was right? She didn't have an answer, but it would at least give her the comfort of knowing that he wouldn't kill her. Probably.

As she made her way down the stairs, she decided that if she was right, it only changed her security in the house. The man had tried to kill her, and tried to kill her dad. Her dad was dead because of him, and she was being hunted down because of him. She was hardly going to run into his arms, hearing the violin music playing in her head as they danced together on a floor of rose petals.

No, she was going to get what she wanted and then leave, just like he did.

Yep, looks like Jackson might be quite fond of Lisa already. I thought it might be fun to have her realize it but reject it for a little while instead of "oh, I suddenly love him...but does he love me?" stretched out F-O-R-E-V-E-R. Plus, I figure that it would take a person a while to completely warm back up to someone who did what he did. What do you guys think? Please R&R!

A/N- it's spring break, which is a sadly mocking name for this week. Mine is going to be incredibly busy and spent working, so I won't update this week.