Wow. Chapter 17 got more hits in 4 days than chapter 16 did in 10. That's a little insane. :) To my reviewers: I'm really sorry for not sending previews this time. I'll make sure to give you a nice present for chapter 19.

trudes193: Honestly, I don't know how things are going to turn out for our little pairing. The ending is up in the air right now.

Guest: Thanks so much! I was worried that people would be annoyed that I sent them right back into an argument. This is the first time I've written a couple past their "moment", so this is brand new ground for me.

son-of-puji: Maybe I just like writing Jackson too much and I miss his jumbled brain. Thanks for the support. You're my lucky penny.

Pirate Gyrl: I'm glad you like it. I see them right now as expressing their feelings more with actions than words. For now. They'll smooth out a little more later. :)

Words:

Chapter 18: Vow

Lisa made her way down the aisle, following Jackson. It was hard to miss the amusement in his eyes when he stopped short and gestured toward the window seat. "Can't I have the aisle?" she asked, "I don't want you trapping me again." He chuckled.

"No," he replied. "What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't protect you from the drink cart?" He grabbed the bag from her hand and placed it next to his in an overhead bin. Lisa raised an eyebrow, but slid into the seat. She grinned to herself, glancing out the window. If their original meeting was less lethal and they were a couple who had been together for a while, this would be coming across like a marriage proposal. Hopefully there wouldn't be any pens or bathroom soap messages this time.

Lisa wasn't sure if they were actually any kind of couple, but she wasn't about to ask for clarification. She would probably get some smart-aleck reply about women obsessing over labeling things or her desire to keep her life in neat little boxes. She was fairly sure that the answer was no. He definitely wasn't her boyfriend, or even someone she could say that she was seeing. The only thing that she knew for sure was that she was surprisingly enjoying not having definite answers and not knowing where she stood with him. It was more exciting this way.

Jackson leaned in close to her. "Looks like people are having doubts," he murmured, and dropped the newspaper that he had grabbed earlier in her lap. Lisa's stomach dropped when she saw her own face smiling back at her. It was a photo of her and her dad on a vacation the year prior. Lisa frowned and turned her attention to the article itself.

It read that she had been spotted on a Greyhound bus to Minnesota, but after the cluster sightings in Miami, it was assumed that it was a false identification. Her family was insisting that Lisa was no criminal, of course, suggesting that the government was pinning the blame on her. Her mother was quoted earlier as being worried about Lisa, knowing that since she couldn't be have criminal ties, she was worried about her daughter's safety on the streets of Miami.

The article cited eyewitnesses from the plane stating that Lisa had seem fearful on the flight, and that her supposed victim was acting suspicious. They reported crying from Lisa and low, threatening tones from "Jim", although no one had heard what he was saying. And of course the logical question- if Lisa was trying to kill Keefe, why would she save him? If "Jim" was really innocent, why did he chase her down himself instead of calling the police?

Lisa couldn't help but be surprised. It seemed there were quite a few people doubting the official story and believing instead that she was innocent. The rebuttal was that if she was innocent, why was she running? She glanced at Jackson and placed her finger under the statement that she had gunned down her own father and the agents. She gave him a questioning look. Why were they saying that she shot him? Didn't they test the crime scene?

"You know the government," Jackson explained, sounding casual. "They have their scapegoat, and they're going to make all the evidence point to her no matter what." Lisa nodded and handed the paper back to him. She leaned her head against the window, suddenly somber. Seeing her father's face and reading her mother's words brought it back to the surface what she was putting them through. Her family was probably going through so much- she couldn't even imagine her mother right now. Her mom died less than a month ago, her husband of 32 years was murdered (even though they had divorced, he was still important to her), and her daughter was on the lam...soon to also be dead as far as she knew.

As the plane made its way down the runway, Lisa gripped her armrest. She was trying so hard to stop second-guessing herself, but it was overwhelming her again. Tears formed in her eyes as the landscape began to blur. She hadn't been particularly close to her mother in years, but she still didn't want to cause her pain. The fact that she knew she had no way out wasn't helping- it only made everything worse. She felt despair creeping in again. There was no way to fix this to make it work for everyone.

The feeling of a hand over hers pulled her from her misery. She glanced over and saw Jackson's hand gripping hers. He seemed focused on the newspaper in front of her, but it was a comfort to know that he seemed to understand what she was going through. He had been helping in his own unorthodox way, and she was grateful for that. She tried to imagine what Jackson was like when he wasn't on the job. Was he Tex-Mex Jackson?

The more time Lisa spent with him, the less Tex-Mex Jackson seemed like a real person at all. He was more complex than the dashing man he had presented her with earlier- the charm was probably just a mask. He was probably a loner, like her. It would explain why he figured her out so easily. It made perfect sense, really. She didn't see him having many friends, and he had said he only had Caleb left as family. She couldn't imagine what it was like to have no one.

"What do you do when you're not working?" she asked, assuming the answer could be told around a group of people. She was finding that an added benefit of asking him about himself meant that she could be distracted from her own problems.

Jackson folded his paper and placed it in the pocket in front of him. He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's fairly dull," he replied. "I usually stay in my apartment and read a lot- keep up with business, politics...trends..." He placed an emphasis on "trends", which Lisa took to mean underground and criminal activity. She wondered how a person would do that, but knew she couldn't ask at the moment. "I work out and go to the range, too."

Lisa smirked. "Sounds very professional. Don't you have hobbies?" Jackson shook his head. "Really?" She elbowed him gently. "You don't watch movies? Build little model ships? Do needlepoint? Arrange flowers?" Jackson continued to shake his head, but he was chuckling.

"I read. Yeah, I watch TV and movies, but mostly older stuff. Not as old as what you watch...mostly seventies movies, like The Godfather." He smirked at her. "Typical guy movies. If I go out, I shoot pool. I clean a lot."

Lisa shrugged. "So you're boring too?"

Jackson stretched, but then winced. "Yep, totally a boring guy." He stood up and reached into his bag, pulling out a pad of paper and pen that he had purchased earlier. Lisa rolled her eyes. He wasn't good at ending conversations. She watched him scribble on the paper, but found that she couldn't read his writing.

"Are you proud of Caleb?" she asked, leaning in closer.

"Yes," he replied shortly, not looking from his paper. Lisa tried again.

"Do you think he made the right choice?" she asked.

Jackson shrugged. "For himself, I suppose," he responded, still distracted. Lisa studied the paper. She saw names that she didn't recognize, and realized that it wasn't the writing that she couldn't read- it was the language.

"He's a little young to be a doctor, isn't he?" she asked, watching him write.

"I guess," Jackson replied. He wasn't writing anymore, but he continued to stare at the paper. "But it's just a clinic. He's better than that, obviously. He could be a top surgeon with more school, but he spends his time with ear infections and ingrown toenails." The bitter in his voice was heavy again. Lisa frowned.

"Why don't you talk to him about it?" she asked. When he didn't respond, she put her hand on his to get his attention. Jackson sighed.

"Because I don't. Stay out of it," he snapped, frustrated. Lisa crossed her arms, staring out the window.

"Why don't you like to talk about him?" she asked, still looking out the window. For a while, Jackson was silent.

"It's complicated," he admitted. "We aren't very close anymore." Lisa shrugged.

"So get close again," she replied flatly. "Why is that so hard?"

Jackson laughed humorlessly. "Right. It's just that simple. Make a phone call and undo five years of problems."

Lisa looked over at him again. "So it will take time. Are you too scared to try?"

He shot her a warning glance. "You don't know what you're talking about," he replied, "Drop it."

"No," Lisa said, shaking her head, "So what if I don't know the details? He's your brother. Fix it." Jackson growled softly.

"Drop it," he repeated through clenched teeth.

"No," Lisa snapped. "You have a family and you don't care enough to-"

Jackson leaned in until his lips almost grazed her ear. He gripped her forearm tightly. "For the last time, drop it," he warned, cutting her off. Lisa turned and glared right back at him. She wasn't going to let him intimidate her.

"What happened?" she finally asked after a few moments of tense silence. Jackson exhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring.

"I am speaking English, right?" he snapped, squeezing her arm. Lisa twisted out of his grip, wincing slightly at the pain in her shoulder. She sighed.

"Look," she said in exasperation, "I'm not going to stop asking, and you can't really go anywhere, so you might as well talk about it. Or I can sing. Your choice."

Jackson turned away. "Is it occurring to you that I just don't want to talk about it period?" he asked softly. Lisa felt an urge to give in, but she had a gut feeling that she should keep pressing. She doubt that he had ever talked to anyone about it.

"Has it occurred to you that keeping it to yourself isn't helping?" she replied. Jackson leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes.

"It's not something that I can really explain," he finally conceded, "We had a big fight when he told me that he was becoming a doctor and marrying Cheryl. We broke some bones on each other and it hasn't been the same since." Lisa was stunned. Her fight with Jackson in her dad's house had been the only time that she had been angry enough to really attack someone, to do that kind of damage to another person, and her anger was fueled by survival. What was it that made Jackson that angry?

Apparently Jackson could tell that she wasn't satisfied with her answer, because he continued. "He was pretty much all I had for almost eight years at that point, and I was losing him. I guess I panicked, and didn't handle it well." Lisa bit her lip. She thought that she understood why he was so angry then, but why wouldn't he have tried to patch things up by now? Didn't he realize that he hadn't lost Caleb? She got the impression from the younger man that he was still adored his brother and wanted to restore their relationship.

She tilted her head as the answer came to her. "You still feel that way," she stated. "You really think that you've lost him, don't you?" Jackson ran a hand through his hair. His silence confirmed her thoughts. "You haven't. He misses you."

He scoffed. "I don't care," he replied coldly. Lisa raised her eyebrows. She hadn't expected that answer. She watched his hands, marked with faded bruises, fidget with the hem of Caleb's T-shirt.

"I don't believe you," she murmured. "Try looking at it from his perspective. He obviously loves you, so he must have wanted to be a doctor really badly. Would you prefer he was with you still, but miserable with the rest of his life? Doesn't that seem selfish to you?" Jackson avoided eye contact and remained silent. His jaw clenched again. "Maybe his job isn't more important than you. Do you think it was easy to choose his job over you?" Again, silence. Lisa could tell that she was ripping at a raw nerve, but she could only hope that she was getting through to him. "All that's keeping him from being happy with both is you. You have to learn to forgive him, and maybe you can rebuild it. Maybe you can be happier, too."

"So you're saying it's my fault?" he finally asked, and Lisa could tell that he was still angry. She sighed, drumming her fingers on her thigh.

"In a way," she replied. "You're the one who took care of him, right?" Jackson nodded slightly and dropped his face into his free hand. She could sense how badly he wanted to end the conversation, so she let it drop. She was sure that she got her thoughts across.

"Why do you do this?" he asked, sliding his palm down to speak through his fingers. Lisa froze, taken aback at both the question and the accusing tone.

"I don't know," she replied, pulling away from him. "I feel like things are helpless for me. I don't like to think about it."

"And I'm a distraction?" he asked, glancing up at her. She shook her head again.

"No, it's not that. You're not helpless." She smiled, turning to face the window again. "And I care about you."

"Why?" she heard him ask, his voice muffled.

"No idea," she replied, laughing softly. "You're not as bad as you think you are," she explained, now serious. She was wondering if Jackson convinced himself that he was a monster because it made things easier for him. She jumped slightly when she felt Jackson's fingers on her jaw. He pulled gently, making her face him.

"What about you?" he asked, his eyes searching hers. It was odd how exposed he could make her feel using only his eyes, as though he could see through to her secrets. Lisa felt a rising urge to pull away.

"W-what about me?" she responded, stammering slightly. She attempted to look away, but Jackson held fast. He said nothing, continuing to pierce her with that gaze. "Do I think I'm a bad person?" She cast her eyes down to the armrest between them. "I don't really know what to think now. I'm not a good person, if that's what you're asking."

"That's not what I'm asking," he replied, leaning closer. Lisa was again aware of his scent invading her space. He didn't smell of cologne, or shampoo. He smelled slightly of sweat, cigarettes, and grime. It was not unpleasant- quite the contrary, it was perfect. He smelled of the last few weeks, of struggle, triumph, adrenaline, and pain.

"I think I might be," she replied honestly, "but I don't know any way to come out on top as a good person." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Everyone is going to be hurt, and I don't think it can be avoided. But I don't know how to stop thinking about it."

Jackson smiled sadly. "Defenses," he replied in an equally quiet voice. "It can't be avoided. This is not one of those things that if you think about long enough, the solution will come to you. Keep distracting yourself. Don't look back."

Lisa's heart sank. "Like you?" she asked. She was not accusing this time. She hated to admit it, but she could hear the truth in what he was saying.

He nodded, running his fingers along her jawline. "If you can't live with it, then die by it," he whispered. It was cryptic, but Lisa thought that she understood. He giving her an ultimatum, but it was meant for her to give herself. She had been going back and forth in her brain about everything that had happened- her dad, her family, Keefe, and Jackson. The only way to stay sane was to choose her path and commit to it one hundred percent. There just wasn't room for self-doubt anymore. It wasn't the first time she had told herself this, but it was time to mean it. It was time to man up, as it were.

It was now very clear to Lisa. She had been very demanding to Jackson during the entire trip. She could see in his eyes just how exhausted he was, and she doubted that it was due to a lack of sleep. Meanwhile, she had mostly skated by, her decisions attached with a protest of 'but I have no choice' to ease her guilt. It was Jackson's turn to ask of her, to tear her yet again from her comfort zone. She had tried to make it clear that she was there to support him, and it was because of her support for him that she had been daring him to put himself out there. She could see that he was doing the same. He was asking her to join him in the uncertainty. He was making her his equal, and behind his words she could hear him telling her that he had her back just as she had his.

Lisa saw that Jackson was still watching her, reading her. She simply nodded and pressed her lips firmly to his. As she brought her fingers up to tangle in his hair, she knew that they had reached a silent agreement to see what they had started through to the end. It wouldn't be easy, but neither of them were going to look back. They were also both asking the other to support them, to make sure that they didn't go back on their unspoken words.

Lisa pulled away and sank into her seat, staring straight ahead. She was under no illusion that Jackson was going to spring open in a cascade of honesty and openness. Likewise, she was going to have her doubts. But they were going to just keep fighting, both the world and each other.

The air between them had changed, and ironically it was in a place where they were incredibly constricted in which words they chose. This was no red eye flight- the fellow passengers were mostly wide awake and anything other than vague references to their situation were dangerous. She had no idea how Jackson got the courage to say the things he had during the first flight. Assuming people were too tired or self-absorbed to listen was a pretty big leap of faith.

She repeated Jackson's words in her head. 'If you can't live with it, then die by it.' She wondered if he was speaking more to her problems or his own fate. She couldn't get over that conversation earlier when he said that he didn't really exist anymore. It seemed to her that he had in essence killed himself years ago, unable to handle what he had done to his family and what had been done to him. She glanced at him. He was back to writing on his pad, lost in his own world again. She felt as though she was understanding him more and more with each conversation, and that the more layers that were peeled away, the more drawn in she was by him.

Lisa leaned over and quickly kissed Jackson's cheek. This caught his attention, and he turned slightly to look at her, amused. "Yes?" he asked, his eyebrow raised.

She shrugged. "When did you learn French?" she asked, motioning to the notepad. He glanced down.

"High school," he replied. "And I get a lot of practice with Marie. She's a happier person when she can speak French to people." It had never been lost on Lisa how his tone changed when he mentioned the woman she had met earlier. He seemed to regard her quite highly.

"What's her story?" she asked casually, crossing her legs. Jackson let out a small laugh and shook his head.

"It's a very long one," he replied. "Ask me later."

Lisa nodded. "I took Spanish in high school," she told him. "It made sense, living in Florida and visiting my grandmother in Texas all the time. I wanted to learn French, though."

"But it wasn't practical," Jackson finished. "Sounds about right."

Lisa tilted her head, smiling slightly. "Yeah, it does. Maybe you can teach me sometime." Jackson shrugged.

"Maybe," he replied, sounding fairly dismissive. Looking at Jackson's pad made Lisa realize that they hadn't talked much about lighter subjects. She checked her watch. They had an hour and a half left of the flight. Might as well kill some time.

"What's your favorite season?" she asked, watching him. Jackson chuckled.

"Is your sea breeze finally kicking in?" he asked, amused. Lisa nudged him.

"Oh come on. I want to know," she prodded.

He glanced at the ceiling, thinking. "Winter," he replied. "Real winter, though. Not this southern bullshit."

Lisa giggled. "Yeah, people can lose their minds when they see a snowflake here. I like the summer best- I love thunderstorms. Don't like hurricanes, though."

Jackson nodded and stared straight ahead again. Lisa rolled her eyes playfully. "You're bad at small talk," she stated, smiling at him.

"That's what this is about?" he asked. "I happen to be an expert at it." He grinned, and leaned in close to her ear. "But it's usually before I get information out of someone or have them killed," he taunted. "And you're the one who is horrible at it. You don't just fire out random questions like an internet survey."

Lisa crossed her arms. "That's how I do it. I think it's fun," she insisted.

Jackson raised his eyebrow. "How is it fun?" he asked, skeptical. She shrugged.

"They're not boring questions like asking about a person's job or family," she replied, grinning at him.

"Oh, I'm wounded," Jackson mocked, grabbing at his heart. "If I recall correctly, and I do, you brought up your job and your family." Lisa furrowed her eyebrows. He had her there. "And besides, I would have thought that you'd like the boring, safe questions."

"Now you're just being mean," Lisa complained playfully.

Jackson shook his head. "Never," he replied, his face completely serious. Lisa laughed again. Yeah, Jackson was like taking a kitten on a picnic.

The two fell silent again, until Lisa spoke up. "Do you like cake with or without ice cream?" she asked. Jackson tossed the pad into the seat pouch with the newspaper.

"Are we really going to do this?" he asked with exaggerated irritation. "Can't you just stop talking and relax?"

Lisa shook her head, grinning at him. "If you stop struggling, it will be so much easier."

Jackson glanced up at the overhead bin, where his sedatives sat in his bag. "Too much work," he muttered to himself, and rolled his head to glance at her. "Alright, game on."

Hope you guys liked it. I promise that chapter 19 will be in Miami! Cross my heart!

Cillian Murphy is fluent in French. I love this.

Oh, and tomorrow is my birthday. Do you know what I want? Reviews. Please don't make it a sad birthday for poor little Orlha. :D