Okay, this is a very short chapter compared to the past three- it's about half as long. I guess it's technically filler, but I actually like this one. Based on the few reviews I got, I decided to follow the OC's as well as stick with JxL, so there's going to be some bouncing back and forth. I hope you guys like this chapter better than the last one, and thanks a million times over to those who took the time to give feedback.
Eva- Thanks for catching that! There are quite a few little parallels in the dialogue thrown in here and there, especially between Jackson and Caleb. Unfortunately, this story is going to end before the group even meets up again- we're in the last handful now.
Queen of the Weasels- Wow. Thanks so much! I've run out of ways to say that even though sometimes it seems like I'm focusing more on Ben and/or Caleb than Jackson or Lisa, it's usually because they give insight into Jackson and help guide Lisa along the way (and provide a bit of comic relief). So it's always great to find out that a reader understands that! :D
It's nice that the research that's been going into the chapters is appreciated! It's always bothered me when Hollywood gives characters "flesh wounds" they bounce right back from, but I'm starting to understand why they do it. After I wounded my characters, I was kind of stuck with "well, what now? Some of them can't do much...". Glad you like it!
BW4eva- I hope you end up enjoying Mama Rippner. She will be upon us very soon, and in my head, she's going to give us that last little bit of insight into exactly why Jackson is who he is. (Little hint- despite his previously stated concerns, he's definitely not his dad)
I don't plan on having Jackson find out what actually went down with Lisa. Partially because he doesn't want to know, but mostly because like I said to Eva (and I'll post more about it at the end of the chapter), the story will end before they meet up again.
Perhaps-A-Star- :D Thanks! I can't resist the temptation to throw in some of Ben's back story here and there because I love how different his origins are than the twins' (and Lisa's).
Chapter 38: I'll Stand by You
"Cal! Get up, we're going!" Caleb rolled onto his back, rubbing his closed eyes with the heel of his palm as Ben's yelling interrupted his uncomfortable sleep. He sat up from his place on the floor, opening his eyes to look at the man hobbling toward him.
"What?" he mumbled sleepily, glancing at the nearby wall clock. His hair was still damp from his shower- he couldn't have been out for more than a few minutes. "Going where?"
"Dallas," Ben replied quickly. "We're driving, so wake up." He looked over at Nikita, who was staring in confusion from her place on the couch. "And you're coming too." The redhead woman shook her head, adjusting her hair. She snapped at him in Russian, and Ben scowled.
Caleb moved to a chair, watching the action unfold in front of him. He of course wanted to know why the hell they were suddenly driving to Dallas, but neither New Yorker was paying attention to him at the moment. They were arguing in rapid-fire Russian, and neither looked pleased.
Even after all the years he had known Ben, it still caught him off-guard when the man transitioned into the language with such ease. Obviously Ben used sporadic words and phrases, mostly insults and irritations muttered under his breath, but Caleb rarely heard him actually conversing. His Russian was definitely better than Caleb's French, and likely better than Jackson's as well- Caleb heard no thinking pauses, no stumbles.
It was probably partially because Russian was Ben's first language. Caleb knew he hadn't learned English until he was in school, but he couldn't remember when that was. But still...Ben had to have people with whom he usually conversed, because his fluency seemed high for a 28-year-old who rarely spoke the language since his single digits.
Caleb raised his eyebrow in confusion and amusement as Ben abandoned his crutches and practically leapt at the woman, pinning her to the couch and holding her face in his hands. He was obviously begging her, and Nikita was having none of it. Caleb concentrated, trying to remember the little Russian Ben had taught him over the years and also trying to find those words.
He finally recognized numbers. Those were easy. He heard Ben offer up twenty, "Dvadtsat," and figured they were talking money now. Nikita came back with "Tridstat," thirty, and Ben replied, "Sorok." Forty. Master negotiator. Nikita paused, and Ben lifted his gaze to meet Caleb's eyes, a wicked grin on his face as he continued speaking to her.
With an insult Caleb recognized as 'fuck all your mothers', one of Ben's favorites, Nikita pushed him onto the floor and got to her feet. Caleb shook his head, holding out a hand to help Ben stand again. "Smooth," he remarked, picking up the discarded crutches. "Why are we driving to Dallas all of a sudden?"
Ben let himself fall back onto the couch. "Jack gave me the codes, and just as he's about to pass out, of course he conveniently remembered that there are multiple exits out of Marie's place, and I had to fucking pry those from him. So that means Nik and I have to cover them, which is-"
"And what did you offer her?" Caleb interrupted, sitting on the coffee table. He got the idea. They needed multiple guns, and the easiest way to transport those across state lines was by car. He glanced over at the redhead, who was staring out the window with her arms crossed. He was unsure of whether or not she had actually agreed to help or if Ben just pissed her off.
"I started with a tiara and my body," Ben replied, rolling his neck to the side.
Caleb chuckled. "Would've sold me," he remarked, and Ben shrugged.
"That's because you're a whore," he replied matter-of-factly. "She's smarter- she held out for the money."
"Tell him what else," Nikita called over her shoulder, a matching grin on her face.
Caleb rolled his eyes. "My body too, right?" he asked, remembering that glint in Ben's eye. He shook his head as the man nodded. "You promised you wouldn't do that anymore," he continued, feigning betrayal.
"Oh calm down, Callieflower," Ben replied, his smile widening. "She wasn't interested anyway."
Caleb's jaw dropped as he snapped his head to shoot Nikita a hurt expression. "Well, fucking ow," he said, getting to his feet. "Are we waiting for something?"
Ben nodded. "Jeff's getting your car," he explained. "I figure he can stay here and keep an eye on the Cripple Club until Thomas gets back."
"What kind of club has two members?" Caleb asked, as Nikita sat in his place. "Shouldn't they be...the Disabled Duo?"
"Cripple Club sounds better," Ben insisted, whipping the pad of paper at Caleb, followed by a pen. Caleb shrugged, dropping onto the couch next to him.
"You just say so because you thought of it," he muttered, not really paying attention anymore. He instead used the time to scribble instructions for Jeff, leaving Ben and Nikita to argue as he rushed down the hall to make final inspections.
"Oh, for..." Caleb trailed off, frowning upon finding Jackson in Lisa's bed. Jackson smiled weakly, not quite as out of it as Ben had described.
"At least I asked for help," he mumbled, his voice light under the morphine's grip. Caleb nodded, grabbing the skin stapler from the nightstand and making his way to the other side of the bed, pulling back the blanket. He found himself wishing that Jackson had passed out as he pulled on gloves and removed her bandage. They still hadn't closed her wound.
Caleb removed the bloody packing and tossed it into a nearby bowl. The sutures from previously were holding well, thankfully. All he had to do was close the wound, and that wouldn't take long.
"Are you going to make it back in time?" Jackson asked softly, and Caleb glanced over to see him staring intently at Lisa's shoulder, even the morphine not enough to distract him from the graphic wound. It took Caleb a moment to figure out what he was talking about, before realizing that Jackson was trying to distract himself and was referring to Caleb's job back at the hospital.
He nodded, climbing on the bed and onto his knees, straddling Lisa. "As long as I'm out of Dallas by the day after tomorrow, it's fine," he replied, biting on his lower lip. He still hadn't told Jackson about wanting to come back, but it didn't seem like an appropriate time to bring it up. It would distract him, but probably stress him out even more.
"What aren't you telling me?" Jackson asked, narrowing his eyes slightly, and Caleb chuckled softly. Still observant as hell, even half brain dead.
"Lots of things," he replied casually, turning back to Lisa so he could focus. He used one hand to press her wound together, creating a trail of staples across her skin with the other. "Maybe if I knew what exactly you were referring to..."
"Smart ass," Jackson muttered, watching Caleb's hands move across Lisa's shoulder.
Caleb laughed softly, quickly wiping Lisa's wound and placing a fresh bandage over the staples. "You could come visit when this is over," he offered, getting to his feet again. "Maybe for Christmas?"
He smiled weakly at his brother, now regretting that he had to catch that flight. It had been four years since they spent a holiday together, or more than a few days at any point, and now Caleb remembered why. He was just getting used to having him around, and the idea of leaving again, even after all of the tension, the hurtful confessions and insults they had thrown at each other in the past three weeks, actually made him begin hurting all over again.
Jackson nodded, and Caleb knew by the dullness in his eyes and the slight knit in his brow that the feeling was mutual. "I will," he replied softly, and Caleb heard the silent demand. Don't get yourself killed. He shot his brother a reassuring smile, pulling the blanket over Lisa again.
Caleb picked up the bowl. "See you in a few weeks, then," he said, setting the staple gun on the nightstand again. We can handle it. Love you. "I'll call you when it's done." Jackson nodded again, and Caleb felt his eyes on him as he walked out of the room. He set his jaw as he headed back to Ben and Nikita, knowing that this was his chance to earn a bit of redemption, to make his brother proud.
Caleb tossed against the uncomfortable headrest. He had never been able to really sleep in a moving car, but that had little to do with his unrest this time. His brain was too alive, his fourth, maybe fifth wind too strong.
"Goddamn it, man- stick to the plan," Ben snapped from next to him. Caleb opened his eyes from behind those stupid Wayfarers, smiling apologetically even though the man was watching the road. He knew he was supposed to be sleeping. They had been on the road for an hour, and still had nineteen left. They had twenty three hours until Jamie landed, which left absolutely zero room for a prolonged rest stop. This meant that they needed to trade off, which meant that Caleb was supposed to be sleeping so he could take over for Ben in a few hours, whenever driving became too much for the New Yorker.
"Can't sleep," he mumbled, turning his head to look out the window again.
"Well, turn it off," came the simple reply, and Caleb knew that Ben was referring to his brain. More than once the taller man had pointed out that Caleb over-thought everything, or in his words, 'obsessed more than a woman'.
"Good idea," Caleb muttered dryly, closing his eyes again. He knew Ben cared, but that the other man also wasn't about to ask him to talk. It was up to Caleb how much he wanted to share, if anything at all. "You know, I've never been on my own."
"Well, some people have all the luck," Ben replied flatly. Ben knew all about being alone, and it didn't surprise Caleb one bit that he thought he was lucky. And maybe knowing what Ben had lived through was part of the reason that Caleb had that underlying fear of being completely alone- Hell, he probably never would have left the agency if Cheryl hadn't gone with him.
But still- Caleb had had Jackson since his first second of life up until he was twenty three, and the two men were never apart for more than a few weeks. And when he left Jackson behind, he had had his wife. Now she was dead, and what did Caleb do? Go right back to the old world. Did he actually want it, or was he convincing himself as an excuse to continue having some kind of constant in his life?
"Some people can handle it, and some can't," Ben continued. "There's nothing wrong with needing someone- and you definitely do." Caleb just nodded. He knew he was unstable at heart. He needed support, needed some kind of guidance. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that he was left feeling like he was using those most important to him, only to discard them when they weren't necessary.
"It's up to the rest of us to decide whether or not to put up with it, don't you think?" Ben asked, and Caleb lit a cigarette, cracking the window open. "I mean, fuck- I need people to need me, or I'm a total mess. I didn't go to NYU for myself, remember?"
Caleb nodded. He remembered the story all too well. Ben had ended up in the foster system in the first place so he could remain in high school, so he could go to college and get a job that could support his daughter and Nikita. In those months between his running away and ending up in foster care, Ben had pretty much been a homeless fuck-up, turning to crime to get by while fading on and off of a myriad of different drugs to cope.
"Jack's kind of the same, don't you think? He took care of all of us. I'm no therapist, but it's probably a nice distraction for him...he doesn't need to think about himself if he's thinking about other people. And you saw what's happened to him since we all drifted apart." Caleb nodded again, taking a deep drag. He had heard it in their few phone conversations, seen it in Minnesota- the shell of the brother he knew.
"So that's how I am, that's how he is, and you're the opposite." Ben chuckled. "You're like...a car with shitty alignment. As long as someone's holding onto the wheel, it doesn't matter, right? You need a driver to keep from flying into some bridge abutment."
Caleb used his half-smoked cigarette to light a second, passing it over to his friend. Just in that handful of minutes, he was sure two tons had been lifted from the weight on his conscience. What Ben said made perfect sense, and it was reminding him just how lucky he was to have so many drivers in his life. "I shouldn't have ignored your calls, Lex," he replied softly, coming as close to an actual apology as he could. "And when Jackson told me you and Jamie split...I should have called."
"Maybe," Ben said honestly, taking a drag. "But I get it, I guess. You needed that distance at the time."
Caleb nodded. He had needed it, but he still felt rather shitty about it. Ben had been his best friend, and he just plain should have been there for him. "What happened?" he finally asked, even though he felt the question was somewhat out of line, especially followed with the next display of insensitivity. "I mean, are you going to be okay working with her?" He didn't mean it like that, though. He was honestly worried about his friend, running forward in this plan with two exes at his side and a hole in his leg.
Ben chuckled. "She got pregnant," he replied simply. "But don't worry- we're fine now. We're friends. Just like me and Nik," he finished, motioning to the sleeping woman in the backseat.
Caleb frowned, remember vividly Ben's prior confession about hitting Jamie. It wasn't difficult to put two and two together. That was why Ben had been sent to Miami. It had nothing to do with Jackson not wanting to work with him. The pieces were clicking rapidly into place. Jackson was being promoted to manager, and had needed a second. Ben was a better choice, but with the now obvious pain and anger between him and Jamie, the two couldn't work together.
So Jackson had sent Ben to Miami hoping he would get promoted over Robert. It obviously wasn't because of the men's disdain for each other...if they ever really existed. It was so difficult to tell sometimes, but Caleb also knew that almost anyone else would have been on Jackson's shit list faster than the confession could leave his lips if he had gone behind the man's back like Ben had. But instead of getting promoted, Ben had gotten stuck as a second on a dead-end team, which could have also lent to Jackson's quick forgiveness. Maybe there were hints of atonement for screwing Ben over in the first place.
"Don't look at me like that," Ben snapped good naturedly, taking another drag. "Miami wasn't that bad, actually. I actually got to drive a car, there's sunny beaches, and all those fiery Latinas." The taller man grinned, and Caleb could see the wink behind his aviators. "And the Latinos aren't bad, either."
Caleb chuckled, falling silent for a moment as he inhaled deeply. He was jealous of Ben sometimes, to be honest. No one could accuse the man of being a blind optimist, but he always seemed to find a way to make things work, and work well without obsessing over every angle. He had always been the man who rolled with the punches, and threw a few of his own along the way, all the while managing to be his same self. It was a skill Caleb wished he possessed.
"And now we're all going back to New York," Caleb noted, stating the obvious. "Well, some of us," he added, remembering that two of their former teammates were dead. "How do you think Lisa's going to fit in?"
Ben chuckled. "Don't you ever tell her I said so, but she's probably the best thing that could have happened to him," he replied, and continued quickly when Caleb scoffed at the sentimentality. "Oh come on- you have to admit, they fill in the gaps. She totally puts him in his place, but she also needs taking care of sometimes. She just needs to work out a few kinks, but we'll straighten her out. Woman's a killer."
Caleb nodded yet again, tossing the cigarette out the window. It was so strange to him how quickly the brothers' lives had intersected, their worlds reversing. Caleb had watched what began as a stable marriage crumble, the comforts he had built fall apart, and now he was trying to pick up the pieces and start over again while Jackson was the one who seemed to be the one who had actually found someone that completed him, the one whose life seemed to be finally coming together.
Yes, his brother had so many cracks of his own, but Caleb knew he would find a way to repair them. If there was one thing Jackson was good at, it was that he always eventually found a way to prevail, even if it meant burying his pain deep inside and refusing to acknowledge it. Maybe Ben was right. Using that same analogy, Jackson's alignment wasn't perfect, and he could get sidetracked, but unlike Caleb, he only needed a nudge from somewhere in his environment to keep him on the road. He could drive his own car...he just needed a copilot. And it comforted Caleb to know that maybe he had finally found one.
Jackson silently watched as Jeff removed the ice packs from Lisa's back. It was one of the final orders from Caleb, intended to lessen her massive bruising. And massive it was- Jackson couldn't keep his eyes from the dark purple and blue marbling that spread across her pale skin. He had seen too much already, and was still in some balanced state of refusing to really acknowledge it.
He had already made it clear that he did not want to know what had happened while he had been passed out. Being within arm's reach of Lisa as Caleb inspected the open wound for any significant leaks before finally closing it had been more than enough for him. He knew that she had almost died- the details were irrelevant, really.
And she still hadn't woken up, which was driving Jackson up a wall. He had drifted in and out of consciousness himself as the day turned to night and then to morning, but he had been told that she had slept through the entirety of those hours. Thomas had insisted during his quick inspection earlier that it had less to do with her medication and more to do with the fact that they hadn't been able to fully replenish her blood supply, which would make her tired until her body did the work itself.
Jackson had always been one of those "lucky people", the kind who just seemed to heal quicker, or at least deal with it more easily. Maybe it was defiance- who knew? But that just meant he was around to watch and wait for Lisa to finally open her eyes again.
Truth be told, with the passing of time, Jackson wasn't that concerned with the others. Ben and Nikita weren't going into the house until they had received word from Caleb, so they weren't at risk. If either of them encountered Marie, they were likely going to catch her off-guard, so that wasn't a problem. Caleb and Jamie were at risk, but only if Marie could get the upper hand. The woman had a definite talent for strategy- usually- but it had been years since she had personally taken anyone's life, so the two were at an advantage there. Jackson just didn't believe Marie would have brought in some kind of backup on the off chance that her brother didn't do his job- erring on the side of caution wasn't her style.
While it was somewhat pleasant to not be concerned with the life of his friends and brother, it left Jackson with nothing to do but sleep, stress out over his mother, and watch Lisa. Jeff had managed to drag a TV into the room, so at least he could watch the news sometimes, but that usually irritated him more than anything else. Not that he was surprised to see all the sympathy and tributes for Keefe, but he didn't particularly want to see it.
And Mrs. Reisert. Jesus, she was good. Jackson still felt the same he had before- she was borderline obnoxious and definitely gaudy- but he had to give her props for her dedication and her ability to be a massive pain in the ass for the government who had truthfully thrown her daughter under the bus. And she hadn't completely jumped on the supposedly psycho bandwagon and declared Lisa to be alive- life was ironic, sometimes- and instead kept demanding some kind of explanation for the recent events, which made her smart. Through her behavior, she had managed to shift public opinion yet again. He understood perfectly now how much of a nightmare it was becoming for the feds, and there was a part of him that wanted to gloat over it. It was what they deserved for allowing Keefe to drag Lisa's name through the dirt like that.
Demanding to know how the government could insist Lisa was guilty in light of the assassination was actually a good thought. If Lisa had been involved with the "terrorists", then she would have run off with them and been safe, since the cell was obviously still around. The only reason she would have ended her own life was if she wasn't involved and had no kind of protection. It was a valid assumption, and as long as Mrs. Reisert managed to broadcast herself all over the television, the entire "Lisa Reisert was a sweet little sleeper agent" movement was in trouble as long as they couldn't come up with actual evidence. Jackson himself could come up with a hundred ways to refute Gloria's theories, but again, without evidence, there would always be that question.
Even though it was the reason Jackson was coming face to face with his mother, but he still had to appreciate Mrs. Reisert's efforts to clear her daughter's name. He only wished he could have had parents who cared that much about him.
Jackson brought a hand to his own chest and poked at that weird indent, distracting himself from that piece of self-pity. He was on enough painkillers that he didn't feel the pressure he applied, and being able to feel his own lung behind his skin had become a morbid fascination. Thomas had explained that at any point, Jackson could undergo an operation to have a titanium "rib" inserted into his chest, but it wasn't a high priority by any means. He was fine for the time being.
"So fucked up," Jeff muttered for the hundredth time, pulling a sheet over Jackson's chest before setting ice packs on his bruises. Jackson just smiled faintly, scratching his jaw. His body was starting to fall apart at age 28. And his lung was swiss cheese.
"Do you think it's hard to learn Russian?" he asked absently, nodding his head to the side to silently ask Jeff for a drink. He was getting used to the whole invalid routine, but he didn't hate it any less. And fucking Chechen... He sighed softly. Goddamn nightmare.
There had to be better teams to handle the whole...come to think of it, he didn't even know what they were called, but that didn't matter. Jackson's team had one native Russian speaker, and even that depended on whether or not Ben officially joined him. But that just meant they would have to find some insiders- they had done it before. Once everything was resolved here, Jackson would have to take some time and attack the entire situation. There wasn't much point in thinking about it until his mind was clear.
"Probably."
Jackson and Jeff both turned to the source of the soft voice, and Jackson stopped breathing momentarily when he finally met Lisa's green eyes, hazy with exhaustion. He barely noticed Jeff leave the room as he searched for something to say other than 'hi'.
"How long have I...?" Lisa asked slowly, blinking once as she trailed off, and Jackson smiled weakly. She looked so out of it. 'The lights were on', as it were. But half out of her mind or not, he felt such a rush seeing her eyes open, her lips moving. He wouldn't even mind a barrage of questions- she was alive.
"About a day," he replied softly, carefully leaning in closer. "How are you feeling?"
Lisa inhaled deeply and furrowed her eyebrows, as though trying to figure out that exact question. "Are we dead?" she half-joked, trying to move closer to him. Her frowned deepened as she glanced down at her own bare shoulder. "I don't have a shirt on."
Jackson chuckled, aching to pull the smaller woman close. He felt such a disconnect, unable to make that contact with her. "Let's pretend that I made a crass comment," he replied, yawning. His brain was still a little too fucked up to actually make one.
Lisa nodded, smiling again. "Then let's pretend I acted offended but secretly liked it," she mumbled and laughed weakly before frowning, trying in vain to lift her head and look at the television. Jackson followed her attempted gaze and saw that the news was replaying her mother's latest interview.
"She's been going all-out," he explained. "She won't lay off the feds defending you." He shot Lisa a wry grin. "I can see where you get your insistency from."
Lisa scoffed, yawning. "That's a nice way of calling us a pain in the ass," she murmured, trying to see the television again.
"I wasn't going to do it the rude way," Jackson replied, looking Lisa over. He couldn't roll her on her back- even if she didn't feel it now, she would later. He might be able to help her sit up, but was she strong enough for that? She could barely lift her head.
"Can you turn it off?" Lisa asked distractedly, frowning again. Jackson matched her expression, caught off-guard by the question. "...makes me sad."
Jackson nodded and reached for the remote, turning off the television. He thought he understood what she was getting at. She wasn't going to see her mother again, so hearing her in the speakers must feel like some kind of horrible tease. He didn't really want to bring it up though- he wasn't exactly on his game, and even if he were, he would probably still screw it up with insensitivity. Plus, if she felt anything similar to what he had when he had first woken up, Lisa likely wasn't in a place to talk about it anyway.
"What happens now?" she asked meekly, catching Jackson's attention again.
"Caleb, Ben, and Nikita are on their way to Dallas," he explained, trying to skim. He didn't have the energy to lay it all out for her. "Spencer is coming in a few hours to discuss things." Discuss you, is what he should have said. But if he did that, Lisa would want an explanation. It wasn't as though he was hiding anything from her- she'd find out during the meeting, so Jackson was just saving himself from having to repeat anything.
"And I'm supposed to be gone, right?" she asked, surprising him with her mostly business-like demeanor. "Not my business, and..." She trailed off again, mumbling something about being a distraction. Jackson didn't understand all the words, but of course he got the point- she was thinking about their previous conversation back in his hotel room.
He shook his head. He should probably prefer that she wasn't there, but...it gave him a strange sense of comfort having her by his side. And, more realistically, she was attached to that IV- he couldn't very well make her leave. Not to mention that this issue involved her. Yes, she was second only to Caleb on the list of people Jackson did not want meeting Spencer, but if he didn't tell her, maybe it would be alright.
But at the same time, Jackson knew on some level that it wasn't right. He felt almost obligated to tell her- it was quite a big deal, really. But he couldn't tell her yet. He didn't know how it was going to go, or how he was going to feel after. Even if Lisa didn't ask questions, he knew he would feel that same obligation to talk about it. If he didn't want to, it could get tense, and neither of them were really in a place for that.
"It's fine," he assured her, leaning his head back as he yawned again. "You can stay." Lisa nodded again, slowly lifting her forearm to rest her hand on Jackson's chest, careful to avoid his bandages and the ice packs.
Jackson tilted his head somewhat to look her straight on, his eyebrows furrowed. Did she know? Common sense told him there was no fucking way, but something in the way she closed her eyes, leaning forward to press her forehead to his shoulder...he felt as though she saw right through him. Or at least saw how much of a goddamned mess he was at the moment- how much of a mess they both were.
"Then I'll stay."
Jackson gave a final nod as he closed his own eyes, bringing up his hand to curl his fingers around Lisa's. The two lay in silence, a silence that had nothing to do with the morphine, nothing to do with their hazy minds and exhaustion. It was a silence of support, filled with conversations that couldn't be spoken out loud with words that didn't exist.