Looks like my filler isn't being well-received (the traffic is the same as usual, but hardly any reviews), so I hauled ass to get the next chapter out for you guys to make up for it. It's full of fluff, angst, and lots of blood.

trudes193: Glad you liked Jackson's little conscience creeping in. Our Lisa is definitely shaking his brain around, isn't she? Lol Marie probably wouldn't even need a finger to finish the job.

Shiney: There will always be a shout-out for you so long as you stick with me! :) I enjoyed writing the Benjamin scene- I thought it would be funny if even after the hours spent with Jackson threatening her dad, he still was nervous to make the call- yeah, like she doesn't know that he can get mean. He's going to have to do some serious soul searching soon (alliteration!) regarding Lisa. He can't very well shelter her from much of anything at this point.

I was going to work your questions about Marie into this chapter, but it never seemed to fit anywhere. For now, I'll tell you that Jackson learned French in school, and it improved through the years he spent working with her. We'll find out a little more about her later, though. Yes, he is a different person around her. It wasn't my intention to put it in writing, but in my mind, Jackson is actuallyle diamant- multi-faceted, beautiful, and deathly strong. I agree with what you said about her line, and made the change immediately. Maybe I do need a real beta for the tiny details that slip by.

I've worked out more details regarding the Cheryl-Robert-OMG situation, and I'll bounce them off you next time we get a chance to chat.

Jesscah: Thanks for saying so! I do try to improve- it's better to go up than down, right? Honestly, Jackson's whole attack of conscience was one my favorite scenes. I tried to write him somewhat like a little kid who thinks that they're dying when they have a simple cold. He was overthinking the problem, trying to figure it out, and Lisa was just like "you have a conscience, idiot."

KnoKnayme: LOVE your name. I sent you a pm.

Note to Inday: I realized that your name isn't registered. Is there a certain way that you would like me to respond to everything you wrote, or do you not need a response?

FLUFFYANGST:

Jackson shift his weight, glancing around the store. He yawned and rolled his head from side to side, letting the bones in his neck give a satisfying pop. He was miserable and wanted nothing more than to just get to Miami, but they were on a pit stop in a department store. Lisa had insisted that she had gone as far as she could in the clothes she had brought. It brought a smile to his face when he remembered her realization.

Jackson glanced over, hearing Lisa groaning in distaste. "What's up?" he asked. She sniffed at the air, wrinkling her nose. He had never noticed before how adorable that action could be.

"Something smells weird," she complained. Her eyes widened in realization. "It's me," she whined, dropping her head back against the seat. Jackson shrugged. He hadn't noticed anything, but there was no use explaining that to her. It was like telling a woman that she didn't look fat. She never believes it.

Lisa scowled. "My clothes reek and I haven't showered. I'm disgusting!" Jackson rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, you haven't showered for a whole day. You're fine," he said, looking at the road. He tried to sound exasperated, but he couldn't deny that he was amused.

"Jackson," Lisa said sweetly, and he noticed that she was giving him doe eyes. "Can we pretty please stop and get new clothes?" Jackson raised an eyebrow and eyed her.

"With cherries on the top?" he mocked playfully. She stuck out her lower lip, giving him her best pout. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we'll go get you some pretty new things."

He had agreed to give her twenty minutes to look for clothes, and she agreed to not drag him around and make him give opinions on everything. He checked his watch. It had been over half an hour, and he still didn't see Lisa.

Jackson sighed and headed for the women's department. He searched the racks and clothing stands, but saw no Lisa. Worry nagged at him, but he quickly tried to dismiss it. What was he worried about? Lisa taking off with a small amount of cash, no ID, credit cards, or phone? The random chance that someone just happened to recognize her and was subduing her while they called the cops? No, he knew that nothing had happened to her, but there was still that annoying little buzz in his brain.

He made his way to the entrance of the changing room. "Leese?" he called softly. He heard her respond, but it sounded very weak to him. She was upset. Jackson shifted from one foot to another. Was he supposed to wait? Demand that she let him in? He tried as discretely as possible to glance under the stall doors. He saw one pair of feet- presumably hers. The rest of the stalls appeared to be empty.

Jackson walked over and leaned against the frame of the stall. "Are you alright?" he asked, and was surprised to her hear start to cry freely.

"I'm...not fine," he heard her muffled response, and realized her face must be covered. Jackson caught the meaning behind her words and contemplated kicking himself in the shin. 'Are you alright?' 'I'm fine.' 'Are you sure?' That was the typical back and forth between Lisa and her dad.

"Is it your dad?" he asked hesitantly. He didn't know how to be delicate. He shifted slightly when he heard the door unlatch and turned to see Lisa pull the door open slightly, motioning for him to come in. He glanced around quickly to make sure that there were no employees waiting to get on their case, and slid in, locking the door again as Lisa leaned against the wall. Her eyes were red and her face was streaked with tears.

Jackson took in her outfit. She had on a long-sleeved black top and a knee-length black skirt. Funeral clothes. He frowned, but said nothing. "I thought I should wear black, even if I can't go to the funeral," she murmured, staring at her feet. "I miss him." She raised her eyes to look at him. "I want to go to it."

Jackson sighed. He knew that she wasn't asking permission, but expressing frustration. He ran a hand through his hair, debating how to respond. "I know," he replied. Tough love or sympathy? Sympathy won. "Leese...do you believe in heaven?" She nodded.

Jackson sucked his bottom lip. He wasn't religious. He believed in right and wrong, but that they were subjective to situations. He had seen too much to believe in a loving God. But the fact that she did made this easier. "So, your dad is up in heaven now, watching you, right?" She nodded again, sniffling. Jackson placed his hands on her shoulders. "Then he understands. He knows you love him and he doesn't want you to put your life in danger."

"I know," Lisa replied as she wiped her cheeks with the heels of her palms. She rested her hands on her jaw, cupping her own face. "I just can't believe that I'll never see him again. He won't walk me down the aisle." Her voice cracked and fresh tears fell again. "None of my family...they're not part of my life anymore. I might as well be dead to them."

Tough love. "After tomorrow, you will be," he reminded her. He wasn't good at sympathy. He was good at reality. "You don't have a choice anymore. If you don't follow through with the plan-"

"We don't have a plan," Lisa interrupted him miserably. Jackson clenched his jaw in irritation, but knew that he should let her vent.

"If you don't follow through with the plan that we will have," he continued, "your family will still not be a part of your life. You will rot in prison or be killed." He placed his hands over hers. "All you can do is hope that your family understands. That is your only option." His voice softened and he dug into the carpeted floor with his shoe. "As for your future wedding, he'll be there, won't he?"

He removed his hands from hers, cursing himself for not being able to be more reassuring. The ironic part was that if she were a job, he would probably be able to say exactly what she wanted to hear, even if he didn't mean a word of it. But he cared about her, and it was crippling his brain. He wanted to be genuine, but it seemed that his true self was a complicated mess of emotions and subpar compared to the persona he had worked for years to perfect. He had been able to say what he had to to make people love him, hate him, respect him, fear him- anything he wanted. He couldn't do this with her.

Lisa took his hands. "Did you go to your dad's funeral?" she asked quietly. Jackson nodded.

"We had to. It would have looked wrong if we hadn't," he replied distantly. He didn't have to tell her that it wasn't the same, though. "Consider yourself lucky," he said, staring at their connected hands. "You had twenty-some years with him, and all of it was loving. I haven't had a dad- any parents, really- for almost half my life." He frowned as the words came out. He sounded so self-pitying and over-dramatic, and it was disgusting.

"Twenty-six," she murmured. "I'm surprised you didn't know that."

Jackson smiled weakly. "Wasn't important to me," he responded. "Do you feel better?"

Lisa nodded. "A lot, actually. Thank you." Jackson smiled and instinctively brought her hands to his face, placing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

"Good. Come out when you're ready." He quickly walked out and leaned against the wall outside the changing rooms. He didn't know how much longer either of them could keep up this game of avoiding these obviously mutual feelings.

I take 2 steps forward/I take 2 steps back.

Jackson smiled. The song wasn't quite right. It was more like 'two steps forward, one step back'. He couldn't wipe the grin off of his face. For the entirety of their road trip, he had sought out the 80's stations on the pretense that neither of them could win the radio battle. The truth was that 80's music was a guilty pleasure of his, and he got the impression that Lisa didn't dislike it as much as she pretended. It was turning into a in-joke between them.

All that was left now was for him to give her a falsetto rendition of "Like a Prayer", something he reserved only for himself. The only other person who had heard anything like that was his mother. She loved that kind of music, and always used to play it for him and Caleb, at least when their dad wasn't around- he had despised it. He knew it was sentimental, but 80's music reminded him of a time when things were okay. He didn't really think about better times when he listened to it, though- it was more of a soul cleanser for him.

Lisa came out of the dressing room just as Jackson let out a small chuckle. "What's so funny?" she asked, handing him her small pile of clothes.

"I was just remembering things," he replied, walking alongside her toward the register. "It's really stupid."

Lisa shook her head. "I want to hear," she replied. "Please?"

Jackson blushed lightly. "Alright. When we were six, Caleb and I drove our mom nuts singing 'Rock Me Amadeus' over and over- in gibberish since we didn't know German." He shrugged, trying to play it off, but he saw Lisa giggling.

"I'm having a hard time picturing you as a cute little boy," she replied, obviously enjoying herself. Jackson smirked.

"Caleb was the cute one. I was the weird kid," he replied.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Their conversation was put on hold when they reached the register and Jackson paid for her new clothes. He yawned again. It was probably a good idea to let Lisa finish the trip to the airport. He really needed some sleep. "Just what I said. I was the weird kid. I had more than one teacher tell my parents that I had creepy eyes, stuff like that. My dad was a big hunter. He would bring home bucks, and Caleb would run into the house crying. I would watch him gut and clean them. I thought it was fascinating."

He tossed her the keys and they both got in the car. "When I was a little older, I was obsessed with serial killers. I couldn't read enough about Bundy, Gacy, and the rest. My dad collected knives, and I loved to borrow them and show them off. You could back then, you know. I went by Jack, because I hated Jackson. Kids are assholes, and they called me Jack the Rippner all the time." He tossed the shopping bag in the backseat.

"Was that why you stopped going by Jack?" Lisa asked, pulling onto the freeway.

Jackson shook his head. "Teasing didn't bother me for the most part. I sort of liked the notoriety. Then I got in a fight with this kid because he got under my skin, and he pulled a knife on me. He was bigger than me and I got swiped before they broke us up." He paused, hearing a soft 'Jesus' from Lisa. When she said nothing else, he continued. "Caleb made a comment later that it was ironic that I got attacked with a I knife when I was supposed to be the one cutting people up. I guess it just stopped being funny."

"You were stabbed when you were ten?" Lisa confirmed. Jackson shook his head.

"That's a little dramatic," he replied. "It was just a swipe. Nothing too deep. The guy sucked. Honestly, it was more embarrassing than anything." Lisa looked at him, and even though she said nothing, he could hear the 'why?' "My dad came down on me hard for letting the kid get the upper hand. He said he raised me as a man who ended fights, not a little boy who started them." He scowled. How had they gone from a lighthearted story about irritating his mom with gibbering "Rock Me Amadeus" to this? He eyed her. She was obviously analyzing him again.

"Yes, Dr. Lisa?" he asked, irritated that his question came out as more of a pout than condescending.

"Do you think that going by Jackson instead of Jack was more because you were trying to show people you were adult, not because you hated the nickname?"

Jackson sighed and rubbed his eyes with one hand, squeezing the bridge of his nose. It unnerved him that she did this so easily, and he refused to acknowledge that his father had an influence on the man he was now, even if it were true and downright predictable. "I don't know. Why don't you tell me since you're such an expert on my motivations?" Lisa was silent. One step back...all defenses at 100%.

He flipped the radio on, but changed it to a 60's station instead. He turned to look out the window.

A few songs passed, and Lisa spoke up again. "Is your whole...agency-" she seemed unsure what to call it, "-political?"

Jackson shook his head. "It's a lot bigger than that. It's mostly political, but there are people who do other things. I don't know anything about them, though. Don't really care, either."

"Why doesn't the government take care of these problems?" she asked.

Jackson smiled weakly. "War is too important to be left to politicians," he replied, knowing that she would get the reference.

Lisa nodded, smirking slightly. "How did you get into it?" she asked.

"I told you. My uncle was part of it. Caleb and I joined after college." Jackson replied in a clipped tone, cracking the window open and lighting a cigarette. He didn't see why any of this mattered.

"What did you go to college for?"

Jackson sighed. "Political science and business administration. Caleb was pre-med. He always wanted to be a doctor, but he followed me into the agency for a few years." He frowned. "He ended up going back for his medical degree, obviously. I never really understood why. I mean, he told me, but I still don't understand."

"Maybe-"

"I don't really want to talk about it anymore, Leese," he interrupted, closing his eyes. He was so tired, and her questions were getting on his nerves again. He briefly wondered if this was what it was like to be famous- always being asked irrelevant questions and having to talk about yourself. It was a good thing he would always remain anonymous, because this was already old. "Besides," he began, changing the subject, "I have a present for you."

He reached in the glove compartment and grabbed the thick envelope. "New ID and a phone." He pulled out her new ID, smiling softly. He had been keeping this a secret, hoping to surprise her. "Your new name is Joanne Rebecca Lawson."

Lisa turned to him, her eyes wide. "Jo?" she smiled. "Thank you."

Jackson nodded. "I was going to go with Josephine, but I figured that name stands out too much." He grinned. "You get to have J.R. in your name and keep your L."

She smiled wider, looking a little choked up. "Thanks."

"Mhm," Jackson replied, staring out the window again. He yawned widely and tossed his cigarette out the window, taking a drink of water. Lisa seemed to take the hint, and was silent. The only sound in the car was the quiet radio music. Jackson found himself drifting off, and soon he was in a familiar house back in Roberts, Wisconsin.

Jackson walked from the garage into the living room. The room didn't look right- there was more shadow than he recalled. He glanced around, watching in confusion as the darkness danced along the wall. He stepped back as the shadows drifted closer to him, almost as through the black was reaching toward him.

His attention was captured by feminine whimpers coming from the corner. As the shadows surrounded him, he saw only the outlines of two figures. He slowly stepped forward, and as he got closer, he made out the familiar scene of a terrified woman being pressed to the wall. A knife was being held to her throat by a larger man. Although the woman was obviously terrified, she made no sounds apart from the same whimpers that had caught his attention. She was somehow remaining defiant. He realized that the small woman was Lisa.

Jackson tried to run to her aid, but found that he was suddenly unable to move. He tried to yell for her to run, for the man to stop, but no sound escaped his throat. He turned his attention to the man, who was still facing away from him. Jackson looked down and discovered that he was being held in place by the shadows. They were creeping up his legs and quickly bound his arms to his sides. He was being swallowed alive. The last thing he saw before the choking darkness completely enveloped him was the other man slowly turning to face him. He saw only his own face- the icy blue eyes, the clenched jaw, the sadistic smile playfully tugging at his lips.

Suddenly, Jackson found himself in front of Lisa. He was now holding the knife to her throat, watching her fight between cowering and lashing out at him. He tried to pull the knife away, but the more he struggled, the tighter the blade pressed into her pale skin. He felt bile rising in his throat as he watched a small stream of blood start to drip down her neck, pooling in the hollow above her collar bone. She hissed and bit down hard on her lip, causing another crimson pool under her teeth.

"We've got to get out of here!" Jackson spun to his left when he heard another voice. He saw his brother standing in front of him, kicking at the shadows that were now attacking with a new kind of aggression. "What have you done?" He turned back to Lisa and realized in horror that when he had turned to look at his brother, he had inadvertently slashed his blade across her throat. She was crumpled on the ground, her life pouring onto the floor around her.

Jackson forced himself to look back at Caleb, but he could still hear the wet coughing from the woman near his feet. He tried to follow his brother, but found that his legs wouldn't move again. "...Help," he managed to gasp out, but his voice sounded muted, and the one word was a battle itself. Dutifully, Caleb was at his side, his hands gripping at Jackson's arm.

Jackson could only let out a silent cry as the shadows climbed up his back and absorbed into his arms. He felt himself throw Caleb to the ground, felt himself be pulled to the ground, but it wasn't a voluntary action. He felt like he had no control over his own body, and could only watch his own hand grip his Benchmark and drive it into Caleb's chest. He screamed in horror as his own brother's blood rushed out of the wound, but he knew he wasn't making a sound. "You shouldn't have come after me," he heard himself say. All Jackson could do was watch in silent agony as Caleb's eyes began to glaze over, his gaze fixed on something that just wasn't there.

He gritted his teeth and tried with all of his might, eventually reaching out to grip his little brother's hand. He wanted to apologize, but it was useless. Caleb was all but gone. Jackson's gaze shifted to where Lisa lay, but all he saw was blood and emptiness. He felt the knife be wrenched from his grip, and glanced up to see the tiny woman standing over him. She knelt down and stroked his cheek softly, turning him onto his back.

Jackson tried to avert his gaze, but he could stop staring at the wound on her throat, the blood coating her chest and seeping down her shirt to her stomach. He couldn't move, couldn't help, and couldn't take anything back.

"I did my best," he heard her say, but he didn't see her lips move. "This is your fault." He wanted to argue, wanted to ask how it could possibly be his fault when he was trying as hard as he could to stop it. Without another word, the redhead plunged the knife into him. He writhed internally as he felt the blade sink itself into his lung. He was unable to breathe for blood flooding his throat. Lisa collapsed, her body draping over his. He felt Caleb's hand squeezing his, and looked over, watching his brother staring at him, his breathing as labored as Jackson's. He looked down and saw Lisa also staring at him.

Jackson brought his other hand up to cradle Lisa's head, pulling her closer to him. He didn't feel pain anymore. He only felt powerless as the darkness seeped further into his body, completely overtaking him. As he drifted into unconsciousness, the last thing he saw was Lisa staring at him, her eyes full of hurt, anger, betrayal, and death.

The lyric "I take two steps forward/I take two steps back" is from Paula Abdul's "Opposites Attract". "War is too important to be left to politicians" is a line from Dr. Strangelove or: How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Bomb.

Thoughts? Reviewers get a falsetto rendition of "Like a Prayer" from Jackson!

Also, the next chapter is going to be written with this song in mind: www. youtube watch?v=9RJG3_smRTY... you can guess what that means!