Thanks as always to my reviewers (I need to come up with more creative ways to say that). I know I said it wouldn't be two months between updates, but I fell in a funk again, and the words just haven't been coming as easily as they did back when I was updating every few weeks. Sorry. On the bright side, there's only two chapters left (I think), so I might be done by Valentine's Day. :P
A few words about this chapter: it's another slower one, building up to the final confrontation with Marie and Jackson's meeting with Spencer, so don't expect fireworks just yet. It also hints at another layer to the relationship between Ben and Caleb. It's probably been pretty obvious I've been dancing around it, so I decided to throw it out there and see what happened. :)
Eva: As I said in our emails, I do have plans for a sequel. I was debating not bothering with it because the review count has been dropping and people seem to be losing interest, but then I figured as long as I have some people willing to wait while I update, I might as well keep writing what's in my head. I'll probably post a "trailer" of sorts at the end of this story.
Guest: I'm trying! :P
BW4eva- Oh, I intend on ending this story with quite the roller-coaster finale. I can't pretend that Lisa isn't leaving behind some heartbroken family, and she's not going to be able to keep avoiding it. Spencer's going to give her quite the offer, and we'll have to see how it all plays out.
The dreaded "F" word:
Chapter 39: Future Reflections
Jackson barely registered the bedroom door opening, but he didn't miss the soft humming of one of the Beatles songs- he was still too tired to figure out the name, though. He turned his head toward the door, watching Lisa quietly walk in. He shot her a tired smile, noticing her damp hair.
"Feel better?" As Lisa had slowly pulled herself from her initial fog of blood loss-induced exhaustion, she had started to show her little idiosyncrasies again, much to Jackson's delight. It hadn't taken her long to remember that she hated being slightly dirty, which meant that being coated in others' and her own blood was something she was not about to stand.
Unfortunately, she was still groggy, not to mention that she needed someone to wrap her wound. Jackson wasn't much help, so she had had to wait until Thomas came home. He hated that he was so useless, but it all amounted to the same end- Lisa was happier, even if only minutely. That was enough for him in that moment.
Lisa nodded, sitting down next to Jackson, being careful not to jostle him. She did look lighter, but Jackson couldn't miss the darkness in her eyes as her gaze shifted to Thomas, who had followed her in. He frowned, his guard immediately increased as he waited for some explanation.
He didn't have to wait long, his frown deepening when Lisa pulled away from Thomas as the doctor attempted to re-insert her IV. "It makes me tired," she explained meekly, moving closer to Jackson.
"I told you, it's not just the drugs," Thomas replied, and Jackson could tell by the tone of his voice that it wasn't the first time he was repeating himself, despite how patient he tried to sound. "You've lost too much blood, and you're going to be tired until it replenishes. And the saline is a necessary precaution in case you-"
"I don't want it," Lisa insisted, clenching her jaw. "It makes me more tired." She looked down at Jackson with a wrenching plea in her eyes, and the manager let out a weak sigh, glancing back up at Thomas. He could tell by the look on the doctor's face that he was going to hook her up with or without her permission, and while Jackson was on his side, he could tell that there was a much bigger issue behind Lisa's seemingly baseless, ignorant protest.
"Give us a minute," he said softly, his voice much less commanding than it would normally be. He wasn't Thomas' boss, after all, and he knew that the doctor had every right to insist on Lisa's IV. After the surgeon shot him a look that got his irritated reluctance across clearly, Jackson looked up at Lisa again, studying her. It was impossible to miss those clouds in her green eyes.
"Nightmares?" he asked softly, venturing a guess as to why she had such an opposition to sleeping. It seemed only natural, after everything she had been through. He just needed to calm her down.
Lisa shook her head, fiddling with the zipper on Caleb's hoodie. "I just don't want it," she told him, her face flushing more than it already was. Jackson's frown grew impossibly deeper. She wasn't talking to him. He knew that he shouldn't be surprised, but how could he help her if she wouldn't tell him what was wrong? Once again, life was ironic.
"Well, Leese," he began, wishing he could sit up and be level with her. He was in the same position that he found himself days ago in the dressing room. He wasn't good at sympathy, or shows of affection, and knowing that her problems jeopardized her health was making it even more difficult. If she didn't trust him enough to speak to him, he had no choice except to lay it down with honesty. "You need the IV. You don't have a say in it."
It was true- Lisa would fall asleep soon, and Thomas could hook up the IV then. But Jackson would rather not go that route. If Lisa was this upset about it, she would likely feel betrayed by Jackson if he allowed Thomas to go through with it. And by the hurt that flashed in her eyes, he knew immediately that he had been correct. "But I still want to know-"
"Fine," Lisa snapped, slowly sinking down and onto her back. She glared straight up at the ceiling, and Jackson knew that he had misstepped yet again. He was such an asshole. "Call him back in here, then."
A few days ago, Jackson might have rolled his eyes at her childish stubbornness, but he knew differently now. Lisa wasn't pouting- she was trying to show him that she trusted his judgement enough to bury her own feelings, which, despite everything he had said to her in the beginning, he didn't want. He wanted her to trust him, but not like this. He hated that she couldn't seem to find the balance between trust and obedience. He didn't need another employee.
He let out an internal sigh of frustration, still not able to do so physically without causing more pain in his chest. "Why don't you want the drugs?" he asked, clenching his jaw. He wasn't frustrated with her. He was frustrated with his own issues, both physical and mental.
Words were important to Jackson. He read even more often than Caleb, which was no easy feat. The two each had poems, stories, and plays that they could recite practically verbatim, but when it came to expressing himself, neither twin excelled, each for their own reasons. Jackson's problem was that he just didn't remember how to fully embrace what he felt, and so he had difficulty putting those emotions into words.
It was that cross from the abstract that he didn't have a complete grasp of to the concrete that left him tongue tied. He could recite, he could play any part, but playing himself? It rarely flowed nearly as flawlessly.
All he wanted to do was gather Lisa in his arms, try to offer some kind of comfort without the words getting in the way. But no matter how stubborn Jackson could be, he was just physically incapable of acting on his desires. So all he could do was take a chance- he had to rely on his words and hope Lisa would make sense of it.
His logic told him he was overreacting, but something in his heart told him that this was important. Lisa was doing a remarkable job hiding everything except her irritation, but Jackson could see the subtle glistening in her eyes, and he knew that it wasn't exhaustion. Something was deeply upsetting her.
"Why do you always want me to talk to you?" he began again, letting his fingers graze her upturned palm. "It doesn't change anything, does it? Reality is still reality, right?" He wasn't really asking the questions. He already knew Lisa's response- he was counting on it. She would probably tell him that talking about problems can help, either because a person can gain insight, or even just having someone else to share the burden. But hopefully, this time Lisa would be reminding herself.
Lisa's eyebrows furrowed, and she swallowed hard, still avoiding eye contact. "It's weak and stupid," she insisted, her voice wavering slightly. Jackson closed his eyes tightly, squeezing the bridge of his nose. Weak.
"Not if it's coming from you," he murmured. It was the truth- Lisa was many things, but she was neither weak nor stupid. They disagreed on many things, yes, but the worst place her opinions came from was ignorance, not stupidity. And weak? "You haven't been weak since the first hour after we met, Leese," he insisted, cringing at how asinine the words sounded as he slipped his hand into hers.
It was too honestly sentimental and downright unlike him- she would never buy it.
"That's what happened before," Lisa explained softly, her grip tightening, and Jackson saw her cheeks flush. "I just fell asleep. And I knew I wouldn't wake up again, but I didn't care. I gave up on you," she finished, her voice heavy, "and I'm so sorry."
"I know what you're going to say," she continued rapidly, turning her head to watch Jackson intently. Jackson was glad for that, because he had no idea himself. What could he possibly say to that? The woman felt guilty for almost dying? She thought she had failed him? So he waited, fully willing to let Lisa put the words in his mouth for now.
"I know you don't blame me for it, or anything like that," she explained. "But it's getting to me- I knew it was happening, and I just…" She trailed off, shaking her head.
"Don't do this to yourself," Jackson pleaded, finding his words before she could come up with more. "You were in pain. You were scared, overwhelmed…" He sighed softly, knowing it was pointless. All she was going to hear was 'weak'.
"Back in the earlier years, I...got my hand broken on a job," he admitted, hoping she wouldn't pry into the story- he didn't have the strength to speak at that great of length, and quite honestly, he wouldn't want to even if he could. It was easily one of the more humiliating moments of his life. But Lisa said nothing, and if Jackson had a suspicion by looking in her unchanged face that she already knew about it, which meant that Caleb, Ben, or both had developed yet another case of loose lips. But he continued, knowing that there was plenty to the story that those two didn't know.
"We couldn't go to a hospital, obviously, and this was before we had access to physicians on the inside, so there wasn't much we could do to treat it except a cheapjack brace-" He flushed slightly, taking a brief second to build up the courage to finally admit what he had done to his friends and brother. "-and heroin."
Lisa obviously hadn't known that aspect. He could see the surprise and disappointment, as well as the hint of admiration in her eyes that came from an upbringing in an upper middle class suburb. She thought he was reckless and a bit of a badass. "I know it was stupid, and dangerous," he added, saving her the trouble. Heroin was the most addictive drug, and on top of that, was practically born to soothe Jackson's brand of misery.
"And selfish- I know Ben had some experience with it. Even if he didn't tell us, I saw it in his face, but I still had him prep it and inject me. Jaime almost killed herself in her addiction and her battle to quit, but I still did it right in front of her. Caleb was terrified that I was going to become addicted, but I guilted him into keeping his mouth shut, and he even shot me with it a few times."
"Jackson-" Lisa began, but he shook his head, cutting her off before he even had time to read her heavy tone.
"It wasn't because my hand hurt," he continued, closing his eyes tightly at the pain speaking so quickly and freely was causing. "The first few times it was, but after that, it was because it was the first time I could remember that I didn't feel pain, and I didn't care, not even about how much it hurt my team."
"Obviously it's not death, and I'm not saying I know how you feel," he clarified, finally turning his head to look at the woman again. "But every time I came down from that high, the pain and guilt that I had erased for the moment came back stronger, and I hated myself. But they never did. They understood." He chuckled softly at just how much he had rambled, when he probably could have summed it up much more quickly if he were thinking clearly. "The point is, I forgive you," he mumbled, getting his head back on straight and finally addressing her apology. "You're just going to have to forgive yourself."
Lisa clenched her jaw, not caring about the pain as she rolled onto her stomach, leaning over Jackson and dropping a firm kiss onto his mouth, their first since the blur of emotion and blood in that car. She knew Jackson must have hated every word of what he said- it was a trifecta of his limitations- admitting his flaws, speaking at length, and reliving past pain. She also knew that if asked a million times, he would prefer not to tell that story every single time. He was doing it for her, in a way that cut straight through her doubts more than a simple 'you didn't do anything wrong'. He was admitting that she was right, that she had been weak in that moment, but that it was okay anyway.
"We'll get through this," she whispered against his lips, but she wasn't sure if she was reassuring him or asking him for his. Maybe it was a mix of both. She realized that it probably seemed like a tangent, but to her, it really wasn't. How was it possible that merely a confession of his own released so much pressure from hers? That just being in his arms and knowing that he somehow understood what she was feeling gave her such relief?
But the throbbing in her shoulder and down her arm was becoming overwhelming, trumping the warm rush that came with finally being so close to him again, and Lisa had to pull away. Her guilt itself was still there, for giving up, for her mother, and for her countless list of crimes, both minor and grievous, but what made it seem more bearable than before was that Jackson was right. It was something that she had to work past, but not on her own. That was what really important- he knew her pain, and the fact that he was completely willing to draw it into his own chest made it so much easier to carry.
Lisa rolled onto her back again, but quickly found Jackson's arm snaking carefully under her and slowly pulling her closer to him. She shifted her weight onto her good shoulder, letting Jackson pull her half onto his chest. She glanced down at his bandages, careful to keep a generous amount of space between them and her body before letting her head rest back on Jackson's shoulder, pressing to his cheek and interlacing her fingers with the hand that now rested on her stomach.
"Thomas can hook me back up now," she whispered, yawning widely already. Jackson smiled weakly, tilting his head down to drop a kiss on her temple. The doctor would be back in soon, and Jackson decided that his own previous discomfort was worth it if it meant that Lisa would willingly face what she hated instead of with a reluctant obedience that left a bad taste in her mouth.
Lisa was right yet again. Jackson was sure he could see an end to what had seemed so impossible in days past. Even his mother. He didn't know when the woman was going to show up, but when she did, he would deal with it. Marie would be dead within the next 24 hours, and they would still have to sort through the fallout, but even that seemed so much easier than it had before.
Jackson closed his eyes, barely even noticing Thomas re-enter the room. He was in the past again, a night that seemed like a lifetime ago, years before the agency. Ben was 22, the twins were about a month shy of 21, and Jackson was sitting inside the open window, eavesdropping on a conversation between Caleb and Ben on the fire escape of the apartment they had rented for their second half of college. It had only been their home for a month, and it was already threatening to fall apart.
"What are you doing?" Caleb asked, but it was a stupid question. Jackson had been on his way to the kitchen for a drink when he noticed the men sitting outside at four in the morning. He hadn't heard Ben come back after storming out a few hours ago, but was definitely relieved to see him.
Jackson had sat near the window only a minute prior, finding his brother and the lanky New Yorker sitting with a bag of various pills in a baggie, and felt a crush of disappointment. Jackson couldn't identify them by sight, and probably wouldn't know exactly what they were if Ben gave him the names, but he still understood what he was seeing. Ben was about to drown his misery in a haze of pills, like he used to before the twins knew him.
Not that anyone with an ounce of sympathy would entirely blame him. He had spent two years of his life busting his ass at NYU to get his degree, his only motivation being the daughter who was turning six next week, the daughter that Ben still had yet to hold or say a word to. The drive to find a respectable job and take care of little Sasha and her mother was the sole reason Ben was in college in the first place, and the reason he had spent almost three years before NYU in a foster system he despised.
And earlier that evening, he had found out that Nikita was getting married and now his daughter was infinitely further from him.
It hadn't been her idea, and wasn't what she wanted, but since her parents had pulled her from high school at fifteen when she became pregnant, it was either stay with them and wait for an uncertain future with Ben or accept this proposal, get out of that goddamn house, and secure a future for their daughter. Jackson knew Ben understood it now, but at the time, he had been entrenched in pain, frustration, and betrayal.
"I dropped a grand," Ben replied, taking a drag of his cigarette and resting his forehead against the railing. "After...you know." Caleb nodded, taking a drag as Ben passed the cigarette, and Jackson noticed a curious blush on his brother's cheek that he couldn't decipher, before his gaze focused on that bag. He wanted to scream at the man not to get involved in this shit again, but also was well aware that if Ben was determined, Jackson's words weren't going to make a bit of difference. Caleb had already tried, and from the screaming and crashes Jackson had heard through the closed bedroom door before Ben came rushing out, he obviously hadn't been able to comfort him. Jackson knew that those two were much closer than he and Ben would ever be, so what possible help could he be?
And who the hell was Jackson to stop him, anyway? He knew he couldn't understand what the older man was going through. If this was what he needed for comfort...maybe that was just how it had to be. But still, as he silently watched the scene through the open window, he searched himself, looking for some kind of words that would help Ben see logically.
"It was well spent," the man continued, opening the bag and holding it over the edge of the fire escape. Gripping the bag by its bottom, Ben turned his wrist, letting the pills fall to the ground below them with a hundred tiny pings. "Because I know I don't need them now. I'm not going to drop out," he continued, answering the unasked question as he turned to meet Caleb's gaze. "I just have a new future now, that's all." He chuckled, leaning toward Caleb and nudging him with his shoulder. "But not unless you help with my part of the bills this month. And next month, probably."
Jackson frowned. Ben sounded so sure of himself when seven hours ago, he had been a screaming mess, insisting that there was no fucking point to what he had been doing now and that despite the twins' protests, his daughter was his future. What could possibly have changed? He seriously doubted that Ben just lost his dedication to the little girl in those seven hours, or that he had magically found a new direction for his life. His problem had most definitely not been solved.
"Thanks," Ben finished, tossing the cigarette through the railing bars and turning to face Jackson, his message apparently meant for the other brother as well.
Jackson smiled faintly, tightening his grip on Lisa's fingers as he opened his eyes again to see Thomas inserting the IV back into her vein. He had been so confused at the time, wondering how Ben could possibly pull that much of a one-eighty, from misery to optimism when a solution seemed impossibly out of reach. And he had had absolutely no idea what Ben's gratitude was for.
He had figured it out, of course- he wasn't that much of an emotional cripple. Ben was thanking the twins for simply being there, for being his friends, confidants, whatever title they chose. He was thanking them for making him see that he didn't need to know his path as long as he knew they would support him while he discovered it.
Jackson had gotten it, but hadn't really understood. He had never fully understood what Ben meant when the man had yammered on over the years about having each others' backs, because Jackson had never really had that luxury. He had started out taking care of Caleb in their adolescence, and it progressed into being a team's lead and then manager- when he failed, others paid. It had never been enough to have others around, because the more people around him, the more responsible he had to be. It wasn't the right word, but in a way, those close to him were burdens more than safety nets.
Not anymore, though. He did understand now. He did still feel that inclination to protect, especially Lisa since she was just so...new, but the woman had shown time and time again that she wasn't so pure, in the best ways possible. She had revealed her vulnerabilities and her raw honesty, and had been knocked off that pedestal and into a more "real" territory. She wasn't as sanctimonious or as good as he had previously thought- she was just less tainted than the rest. But she could hold her own, and as Jackson himself had said to Ben, he just had to let her.
And yes, Lisa was right. The problems, no matter how impossible they seemed, would be solved. The way out would present itself when it was appropriate, but in the meantime, they would search together. They would get through it, and they sounded so much better, so much easier to handle, than him alone.
Jackson lowered his face again, brushing his nose against Lisa's cheek as the woman faded back into unconsciousness. "Thanks," he whispered softly, not caring whether she was awake enough to respond- he knew she heard him, and that was all that mattered.
"Will it be enough?" Ben asked, pocketing his cell phone. He had called Jackson's assistant and delivered her the news of just how much they'd be shelling out for Nikita. The woman definitely didn't sound happy about it, but Ben decided that he didn't feel like explaining that it was just a loan- he would pay Jackson back when he could access his bank accounts again.
He adjusted his aviators with a finger as he stared out at the busy street outside the Jimmy Johns, his eyes tracing the path Caleb had taken as he had driven off to meet Jamie and take care of Matthieu. He was a little jealous of Jamie, really- he so wanted to see how Caleb was going to kill the Frenchman at a fucking airport without attracting attention. Yes, he could take the boring way out and simply hold the man hostage until they got closer to Oklahoma, but that wasn't Caleb's style- he was more creative.
"I don't need you to buy our way," Nikita insisted, her voice just as soft. The two were speaking in English, which was rare for them, but Ben figured that speaking Russian in the middle of the sidewalk in downtown Dallas wasn't the most inconspicuous thing they could do. "But it's a big help."
"I technically owe you," Ben replied flatly, both sarcastically speaking the truth and taking a slight dig at the woman. "I'm fourteen years behind in child support, right?" He smiled grimly when she shook her head. Ben didn't owe a penny of child support because his name was nowhere near Sasha's birth certificate. Having a kid would have prevented him from entering the foster system, and not being able to do so would have meant absolutely no future- it wasn't exactly easy for a runaway teen to find a decent job without giving away his real personal info. It sucked, but it had been their only option.
Ben had known for a few months now that Nikita was trying to leave Ilia, her husband, but until now, he hadn't been allowed to give her any financial support. The woman hadn't wanted a handout, but being paid to help them was fine with her.
"What's your plan?" he asked, nudging the crutches leaning against the bench next to him with his foot. He wanted to see how far he could push them before gravity took over and brought them falling to the ground. Like most things, sometimes.
"I got into NYIT, and I found an apartment near it," she explained, and Ben shrugged. She already had the computer skills to get a good job, but she needed the degree to back it up if she wanted to be considered for any of them. He was happy that she was getting everything in order, but that hadn't really been what he was asking.
"And Sasha?" he clarified, referring to their last conversation before this Keefe business, when Nikita had told him she wanted to tell their daughter the truth. He knew the girl was already well aware that Ilia wasn't her father, but the rest of the story was a mystery to her.
"You can finally be in her life," Nikita replied with a soft smile, and Ben easily crushed the bittersweet rush that came with those words, the words that would have made him drop anything and everything a few years ago. He traced the half-sleeve tattoo peeking from his t-shirt with his thumb, shrugging again.
"If you want to tell her, it's your choice," he said, repeating his words from their last conversation. It wasn't worth getting into that he wasn't leaving his job yet again, because Nikita insisted that Sasha was already well-versed in the more underground activities and didn't need that kind of protecting. "But I can't be there yet. Cal needs me now, and so does Jack."
He hoped it would be enough, because he knew he couldn't find the words to make Nikita understand why he was putting the Rippners over his own child for the time being. But the confusion and outright disappointment in her eyes let him know that he had to make an attempt. "I owe them, Nik. It's that simple."
Nikita scoffed, just as Ben knew she would. "Your life?" she asked. "To the one who walked out on you and didn't look back, or the one who exiled you to Florida?"
Ben frowned at the biting accuracy in her words. "They had their reasons," he insisted, his tone defensive. He did owe them. He owed Jackson his life, and owed Caleb everything. If Caleb's presence had helped him become more confident, secure, and driven back in college and to their mid-twenties, then his leaving had reminded Ben that nothing was constant, and he needed to secure those qualities for himself. Having support was wonderful, of course, but Caleb had also unwittingly taught him how to live without it. Maybe there were hints of bitterness lingering, but that was between him and the younger twin, and he wasn't going to sit and listen to Nikita criticize a situation that she had only secondhand knowledge of. The brothers had looked out for him in their respective, sometimes twisted ways, and everything else was mostly forgiven. "I don't expect you to understand, but I'm with them. And that's it- end of story."
Wisely, Nikita understood that Ben's position was inflexible, and she just smiled faintly. "Just be careful," she murmured, staring out at the traffic, and Ben nodded.
"First time for everything," he joked with a grin, content to play the carefree clown until the situation required sensibility again. He read so many connotations in those words. He knew she wasn't talking about his physical safety- she was referring to the blurry lines of his unorthodox relationship with Caleb, warning him that he was approaching the 'danger zone' yet again and could end up just as emotionally torn up as he had with every other relationship. But unlike the Rippners, Ben wasn't a worrier by nature, even if he was leaps and bounds more careful than most gave him credit for.
He knew what he was doing- he was well aware that there was some unspoken bond between the two men, but he was content to store that idea in the recesses of his mind. He refused to let it interfere with their friendship as it stood. If things changed, he might start thinking about it, but for now, let it remained undefined. He was perfectly content with what they had, and it was neither the time nor the place to get bogged down with thoughts of what could be.
Anxious for things to get rolling, he pulled out his phone to send Jackson an update as he resumed imagining exactly what fate Matthieu would meet at the hands of the Black Widower.
Jackson turned toward the nightstand, staring at his ringing phone. Trudi. He closed his eyes, sighing in annoyance at the noise that was disturbing his current state of staring half-comatose at the wall. The only call he wanted to receive was from the group heading to Oklahoma, giving him some kind of update that he had been waiting hours for.
But he knew the woman wasn't calling for a chat, so he reluctantly reached for the phone, holding it to his ear. "Yeah?" he grumbled, using his other hand to massage his stiff neck. With Spencer about to drop in at any point, Thomas had begun weaning Jackson off the morphine. He had gotten a less-potent Vicodin to help with the pain, but it wasn't doing the trick nearly as well.
"We need to talk," Trudi replied, ignoring Jackson's unpleasant tone as usual. But she also didn't sound her usual chipper self, so he simply waited for the other shoe to drop, despite the fact that he was very much not in the mood. "Alex just called...forty grand? Really?"
"I don't know," Jackson replied, his apathy coming out as sarcasm. "Did he stutter?" The amount seemed fairly steep, but he vaguely remembered giving Ben permission to offer what he wanted, and they were asking Nikita to participate in another murder that had never been part of the initial arrangement, in addition to underpaying her for that first job, so it was probably fair.
"Not funny," Trudi snapped, now sounding frustrated. "Where is that money supposed to come from?"
Jackson shrugged, shifting his gaze to look at Lisa, who was stirring again. "I assume from an account." He should probably care more- if Trudi was genuinely upset, there was a reason. But he wasn't at all interested in talking about money at the moment, and besides, he didn't have his mind together quite well enough to decide if this was her usual rant, or if there was a real problem.
"One of yours?" the Brit asked pointedly. "Because your funds are spent." That should have been enough, but Jackson still remained silent. The woman was somewhat anal retentive about such things. He knew she was about to break it down for him, and listening was easier than responding. He was tempted to hand the phone off to Lisa and see if she wanted to handle it for him, but that was probably the medication talking.
"You only got a million for this, you know," Trudi continued, just as Jackson knew she would. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair while he waited for information that he didn't know. "Mercedes spent her 800K, and then some, so you have to find a way to cover...one-fifty, plus whatever you wanted to pay the actual team." Jackson raised an eyebrow at this. Jamie had managed to spend almost a million just on bribes, contractors, and other expenses? Impressive. "Robert got his 100, but I have no idea what he did with it and I have a feeling we're not getting anything that's left over back, right?"
"We're not," Jackson confirmed, cracking the joints in his neck with a satisfying pop. Any money that was in Robert and Co.'s accounts would go to the agency, or more specifically, the director. So whomever ended up taking over for Marie would have access, and that wasn't going to be him. He looked down again, watching the curiosity in Lisa's hazy eyes. "Money," he summarized to her, holding his hand over the phone. "Trudi's freaking out. She does that." He raised an eyebrow at the snarky expression on Lisa's face at the mention of the woman's name. Apparently they hadn't hit it off, but he wasn't quite sure when they would have even had a chance to have a sour relationship. He would probably figure it out if he actually thought about it, but he only had enough brain power for one issue at a time.
"I do that when you hand out thousands like Pez," Trudi snapped, and Jackson grinned faintly. Somewhere in his brain, he knew he should be taking her seriously, but it all seemed like such a non-issue at the moment. If he had to dip into his own accounts, fine. He would recoup the loss in the next job- that was what savings were for.
"Go on," he urged her, turning on the speaker setting and placing the phone on Lisa's chest. It wasn't his goal to share the conversation, but he didn't really care if she heard it, either. He just didn't feel like holding the phone up anymore.
"You're already down almost the entire one-fifty," Trudi continued when Jackson didn't reply. "I mean, your expenses come to ten grand, and with her first ten, you've given fifty to this Nikita woman for practically nothing, twenty to Jeff, and ten for Thomas, which leaves you with-"
"Twenty more for Thomas, and tack on another ten for Jeff," Jackson interrupted. He would normally give the doctor another ten, but the man was now involved in the Marie job and was about to have the CIA in his house. Jackson figured tossing in another ten for his trouble was the polite thing to do. The extra ten for Jeff was partially for whatever he had to do to keep Jackson and Lisa alive, and partially to keep his mouth shut about it, complaint-wise.
"It wasn't nothing," Lisa added, frowning. "Isn't she taking a big risk helping?" Jackson nodded, glad that she had taken the next point right out of his mouth. Talking still wasn't the easiest of tasks.
"So we're over by 170 bloody grand, and you still haven't paid the team?" Trudi demanded, not addressing Lisa's point, and Jackson just shook his head. Every damn time. Apparently this was just one of her rants.
"We knew that was going to happen," he reminded her. They had known from the start that the million probably wouldn't cover everything, as usual. This was how it worked- they received a minimal budget, they went over said budget, Jackson supplied money from his own account, and they presented the loss to Marie, hoping she would replenish the funds. Of course, he wasn't sure how it was going to work this time- it might be quite a while before he saw that money, if he ever did. Not to mention that he was rarely more than 200 grand over budget, so this amount was unusual. Unusual, but not a problem. There was a difference. "Just set aside another two...something- seventy for Mercedes, sixty for Alex, fifty for Devon...Michael, and...Jessica. Figure it out."
He was too tired to fucking add. It was almost too much to keep the pseudonyms straight- he hadn't had to use Caleb's 'Michael' in years. Come to think of it, Jackson wasn't even sure that account was still open. Whatever- if it wasn't, they would figure out a way to get it to him. It all seemed right, though. Sixty was his going rate for his second, so Jamie would receive that for the Georgia job plus another ten for helping with Marie. Ben's share might be seen as steep, but he was a second as well and the man had been part of three fucking jobs for Jackson at this point, so let him have it. Devon, one of his lower levels, was getting his usual flat rate, and both Caleb and Lisa seemed to deserve the same amount for their work, even if neither of them were technically associates. It was a mess, but it made sense for now, to him at least.
"Two-ninety," Trudi replied after a pause, her voice heavy with disbelief. "Plus the one-sixty. Plus you're not getting paid. You really think it's a good idea to be down almost half a million?"
"It's every man's dream," Jackson informed her, rubbing his temple with the palm of his hand. "Just make it happen." He gave a go-ahead nod to Lisa, who hung up the phone, pulling herself into a sitting position. She handed the phone to Jackson, looking so purely amused, and he raised an eyebrow. It wasn't the response he had expected, to say the least.
"Your job is boring," she told him, and then frowned. "Oh, that wasn't the right response, was it?" She tilted her head, twisting her expression into wide-eyed surprise. "That's a lot of money, Jackson. Are you sure...blah blah…" she trailed off, her mouth slowly contorting into an amused smile, and she laughed, wrinkling her nose. "I can't do it."
Jackson chuckled, setting the phone on the nightstand. "You might be one of those people who can't hold their morphine," he remarked, carefully stretching. Jesus, he hated laying still like this.
"How are the cravings?" Lisa replied, slowly leaning forward to stretch her leg muscles. Jackson envied her ability to move semi-freely- he was beyond miserable where he was.
"Like being at a carnival," he replied half-heartedly, frowning at the patches of blue, purple, and almost black that he knew were hidden under the hoodie. He did want a cigarette, but he really hadn't thought much about it. He knew it was going to be a while before he could have one, anyway. It was more of a reminder how helpless he was at the moment than anything else.
Lisa nodded. "So you're rich?" she asked, apparently disregarding any kind of propriety. Not that Jackson really cared.
"No," he replied, watching her careful movements. He took a moment to appreciate how beautiful she was, so...alive compared to the first few hours after regaining consciousness. "There's a little over a million in my accounts, so…"
"...so you're losing half of your savings." Lisa finished his sentence, now sounding more concerned. "Is that normal?" She didn't elaborate, which was a relief. Asking questions like these, trying to get a grasp on what he actually did, was one thing, but Jackson wasn't in the mood to be second-guessed again. He knew what he was doing, and it was nice to see that she was acknowledging it.
"We have that conversation almost every time," he replied, taking a drink of mostly-stagnant water from the glass on the nightstand. "It's just a routine…" He grinned, setting the glass down again. "Imagine if she knew there might not be a way to get it back this time." He shrugged, finding speaking not as much of a chore as before. Maybe it was just the person he was talking to, not the act itself.
Lisa laughed, sitting up straight again. "She'd really freak out, right?" She looked down at Jackson, serious again, and he could read the question in her eyes. What happens next?
He frowned, trying to think of anything else to say. He knew that she wasn't about to ask a question like that out loud, and that was a small comfort, but he felt as though he had to say something to make it disappear from those eyes. He didn't have an answer for that question in the slightest. At the moment, he wasn't even living day-to-day- it was more like hour-to-hour. He couldn't even tell her exactly how or when she was getting to Minnesota.
But that wasn't possible. He couldn't pretend for a moment that whatever future await them, Lisa would be in it. That wasn't a question anymore- the issue was getting used to having someone to answer to and to involve in his thoughts. And if the firstissue had been a struggle, this was going to be a fucking battle.
The previous conversation with Ben came back to him, and Jackson knew that what might have been a personal decision now had to involve the woman next to him. She was going to find out anyway, and it could even be considered practice for...the rest of their lives? "Remember I said Spencer is coming at some point today?" he asked, reversing his earlier position of leaving it all for the meeting. He didn't really want to get into it, but if he exposed Lisa to the idea now, he could avoid a blindsided gut reaction, and give himself a chance to explain his position away from the CIA agent.
Lisa nodded, and Jackson continued. "Well, part of it is that the CIA ordered the hit on Marie, and apparently, they want me to take her place."
"You look less than thrilled," Lisa noted, carefully resuming her position on Jackson's arm. "Don't want to be a director?"
Jackson shook his head. "Let's just say that I have a complicated relationship with Spencer, who is this division's main liaison, and it would make for a partnership open to exploitation," he began, quickly adding a hasty, "I'll tell you about it sometime" to prevent more questions.
That was true. Whether either of them wanted to acknowledge it- and Jackson was still fairly sure Spencer was no more anxious to speak to him than he was to her- there was a myriad of emotions laying in wait that wouldn't exist if they had another director. Either they would be more irrationally protective or stubbornly callous...Jackson couldn't decide which yet. It was also possible that he was being used as a convenience for the CIA to be more involved in the agency- they really hated not having their hand in every jar. It was entirely possible that Spencer could come in playing the concerned mother role and try to form some kind of relationship with Jackson to that end. He just couldn't know until it happened.
"And I'm not sure I want to keep doing this, anyway," he admitted, not caring if Lisa would jump on it. When she remained surprisingly quiet, he continued. "My one rule has always been that the agency can't run on betrayal and double dealing. There's been so much, and I have a feeling that it just gets worse the higher I go," he concluded, deciding to leave out the fact that being a director would remove him even more from the work itself, and more often than not, he missed just being a lead and working with his team. She probably wouldn't consider that aspect a con.
Lisa still said nothing. She looked deep in thought, nodding occasionally to indicate that she was still listening. "But on the other hand, if I decline, we could end up with someone more corrupt, and God knows when or how we'll actually find that replacement. Usually the analyst mediates the transfer of authority, but we're killing him, too." Jackson chuckled dryly, scratching his jaw.
"I don't think anything like this has happened before. Choosing a manager to promote will be a nightmare, and who has the authority to actually appoint them? Do we vote? This isn't the Five Families." He laughed again, knowing he was now entirely rambling into irrelevance and had to get back on track. "The CIA could very well step in themselves, and the entire point of the agency is that we aren't tied to them. We don't share anything but the occasional piece of intel and sometimes we bail each other out. That's supposed to be it."
"Sounds like you don't have a choice," Lisa replied when Jackson remained silent. She sounded matter-of-fact, but Jackson still heard the concern in her voice. "Maybe take over in the...interim, until you can find someone to be more permanent, and if you end up having to stay as director, just be extra careful when dealing with Spencer."
Jackson nodded warily, watching Lisa's eyes light up in excitement, and knew that she was far from finished. He waited for her to explain whatever thought had perked her up- his curiosity was definitely piqued as to what could make the woman want to talk him into accepting the position when days ago, she was ready to deliver him an ultimatum.
"Think about the opportunity, Jackson- you can control what goes on. You decide what jobs to take. You can influence the entire agency, or at least your division. Everything Marie screwed up, you can do your way, and there's going to be double-crossing no matter who is in charge, so it might as well be you...at least you can do something about it with teams behind you."
Jackson raised an amused eyebrow. Everything Lisa was saying made sense, but he had more than a sneaking suspicion that she had other motives for this new stance. Sure enough, Lisa flashed him a guilty smile. "You'll be safer, right? Directors don't do the dirty work...everything you said about being a manager is even more true as a director…isn't it?"
Jackson scoffed quietly. He knew she had ulterior motives. Lisa frowned, rolling onto her stomach and propping herself up again. "I meant all of it," she insisted, answering his accusation without him having to make it. "I think it could be a great opportunity for you, and I also like that it keeps you safer."
Jackson shook his head, feeling like an asshole all over again. "I didn't think-" he began, but it was mostly a lie. He should have known better- his paranoia was going to be his biggest roadblock in this transition. "It makes sense," he admitted, discarding his attempt to pretend that he hadn't thought the worst of her. And it did, really. Again, he was abstaining from making such a snap decision, but Lisa had definitely given him more to think about. Not that he had a lot of time.
He opened his mouth to continue, but was cut off by an incoming text message. He quickly reached for his phone again, anxiously flipping it open to read the message.
"Checking in from Dallas: Michael off to rendezvous w/ Mercedes. Holding at JJ's with La Femme. A."
Jackson grinned faintly at Ben's penchant for playing it official. "It's starting," he explained to Lisa, holding the phone so she could read the message. "Now you finally get to see what being a manager is usually like."
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