Not much to say about this chapter, except that it's easily one of my favorites already. I had Lisa's response vaguely planned in my head, but it mostly wrote itself, and I have to admit that I love how Lisa ended up being almost logical about things and Jackson lets his emotions take control. I thought it was fun. :) And I know it's cheesy as hell, but I couldn't resist a little reference to "Blood and Roses" that's thrown into Lisa's thoughts. Oh well, hope you guys enjoy it! :)
If any of my readers are also reading Maybe This is Danger, so sorry that I've been stalling on updating that one. I'm a little stuck, and when mixed with the inspiration to keep writing this one, I honestly don't know when I'll have the next chapter up. Please bear with me.
Eva- I'll send you the latest side story sometime this week, and I know I keep promising and keeep prooomising, but I'll should have the CxL for you sometime this month. If I don't, feel free to nag me. :D
Guest- Thanks!
Without further ado, Lisa and Jackson define 'love' and the OC's decide no one lives forever:
Chapter 41: Blood & Roses/Who Wants to Live Forever?
Lisa braced herself, preparing for the backlash she knew her answer would earn. "I'm not going back," she insisted, tensing her jaw as she tried to sound more sturdy than she felt.
"Look, Reisert-"
"No," Lisa interrupted, lifting her head to look at Jackson. She didn't want to hear any response from the agent- she didn't care what the woman had to say. The one she wanted to hear from was Jackson, and he was only staring at her, a mix of silent confusion, objection, and relief. "I'm not going back."
"Leese-" Jackson began, his voice wavering ever so slightly, but Lisa shook her head again. She leaned forward, talking only to him now.
"I get it," she insisted. And she did. She knew Jackson was only standing on the other side of the line because he had an obligation to, for her protection. She didn't fault him for that, not at all. She might have if the other side was baseless, but the fact of the matter was that he had solid ground to stand on this time, infinitely more than she did. "But I'm not leaving you," she finished, lifting her good arm and placing a hand on his nape. She wasn't interested in the solid ground.
"You're a fucking idiot, you know that?" Jackson murmured, lowering his head to press his forehead to hers. "You…" He trailed off with a light sigh, barely shaking his head.
"I know," Lisa assured him with a soft smile, even though his eyes were closed. There were no words to describe how absolutely reassuring it felt that he wasn't really fighting her on this. Maybe she was wrong- maybe there was an answer he wanted to hear.
Lisa lifted her face, letting her nose rest against Jackson's, their lips a mere fraction of an inch apart. They were in their own world now- she had all the time she needed to make him understand, to finally say the words that she couldn't say to Ben. Even if he wasn't going to argue, she wanted him to hear her side anyway.
"I want to stay with you," she told him, feeling his brow furrow against hers. "It hasn't been because I don't have options since...the motel, when you took a chance for me. And stopped me." She didn't have to elaborate- she had been well aware that taking that extra evening on the way to Marie's would have been near the bottom on Jackson's wish list if she hadn't needed the break.
Jackson shook his head again, and Lisa smiled- there was a lot of that gesture floating between the two of them in the last ten minutes. "Even if it's not the future I thought I'd have, I still want it," she continued, wishing she could be more romantic. She sounded so...bland, but it was as honest as she could be. And it wasn't particularly romantic, when she thought about it. Romantic implied a lack of reality, looking at things as though life was some ideal place, where no matter how bad it got, they would be together, and all that useless rambling.
No, Lisa was well aware of reality. She knew that next month, next year, or yesterday, Jackson could be dead. She couldn't count on growing old together, a family, or any of the wonderful ideas she had always associated with love. She had learned quite quickly that love wasn't some warm, beautiful thing. It was cold, cruel, brutally honest, and she was pretty sure Freddie Mercury had written a song about it. There was a reason that the color of the most romantic flower was the same shade of red as the blood that had poured from their veins- it was all the same. Loving a man like Jackson had made Lisa feel more alive, and at the same time, more aware of mortality than she had ever been. She had never felt so right in her own skin, never felt so strongly that she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
Yes, she had drifted in and out of sleep in the past two days they spent in that bed, but a lot of time, she hadn't really been sleeping- just thinking. Thinking about how despite the less than ideal circumstances, she had never felt more complete than she did while laying next to him, just existing together. She would rather take her chances with this beautiful mystery than have her imagined future completed to a T with anyone else. She couldn't say that out loud because it would be so easily misinterpreted, making her sound like a swooning teenager, so she offered a simple "I love you."
Jackson sighed, a slight grimace on his features now, and Lisa knew he was going to put up a fight after all. So she waited in silence, giving him that chance. Let him give her any reason he could think up- she was ready to refute it. She was so damn sure of herself now- she was not going to leave him.
"Your family," he reminded her, pulling away slightly, and Lisa bit her lip. She did have a response, but it sounded so horrible. But this was it, after all- the moment of truth. Even if it made her a rotten person, she had to speak her piece. Lisa Reisert was dead. She could never go back.
She dropped her gaze, flushing deeply. She could only hope he would understand, but maybe he was one of the few people that could. "If I went back," she began, her voice so soft that Jackson actually leaned in again, letting her rest her forehead against his temple, "it would just be for them. And I want to live for me now...I'm not who they see."
Lisa pulled away so she could make eye contact with Jackson, silently pleading with him to accept this answer. She was reminded suddenly of her conversation with Caleb back in Ben's apartment. I had to be true to myself first, he had explained, and it had stuck with her. Of course, he had decided to give up that life a few days later, but that was neither here nor there.
When Jackson still looked skeptical, Lisa knew she had to give him more. It wasn't that he didn't buy what she saying, but she knew that the logic in him couldn't see choosing him over everything else. It was so Romeo and Juliet- of course he wasn't letting himself go for it. There was a part of Lisa that wished he would just back her up because he loved her, but honestly, that wouldn't be Jackson. He was showing her that he loved her by holding himself back.
"Think about what you're asking me to do," she began again, her voice more steady again. This part was easy to admit- she probably should have started with it. It was more rational. "I blew up my dad's house, I killed-" She cut herself off, remembering that Jackson told her not to bring up Caleb's dead wife. Now it made sense- Spencer must know about the wedding, and Jackson didn't want her to know Caleb was involved at all. "-people in cold blood, and you're asking me to look my family and...acquaintances in the face, and pretend that I'm a good person and a victim again."
Lisa stomach churned at the idea, and she leaned forward again, taking Jackson's jaw in her hand. "I don't want them to look at me like that," she insisted, frowning. "I don't want to be 'fine' anymore." You're not good or bad...you just 'are', right? "And I won't even be that good in Miami, because I'm not Lisa anymore." She didn't want to be fine, goddamn it- she wanted to live. "Please don't try to make me...just...don't let me walk out on you."
Jackson exhaled deeply, his eyes showing such a raw vulnerability before they fluttered closed, and his forehead pressed to hers again. Lisa closed her eyes as well, sure she had a good idea of everything that was running through his mind.
It had been a recurring theme ever since she had stormed out of Caleb's house back in Minnesota, holding strong through the Dallas airport, when he had first vocalized the plea, in the hotel when he had admitted his feelings about Caleb's departure from their team, and now, when he had spat that pure rage at his mother, accusing her of walking out on them.
Leaving. Jackson had spent too many years having the people he loved abandon him. She had a good idea what her words were doing to him, and maybe it was an inappropriate, but she felt such a relief in her chance to turn down the offer of safely returning to her family. It was solidifying everything she had been trying to tell him- she was with him by choice.
Please, accept it. You do deserve happiness, Jackson.
But Jackson still remained silent, seemingly unable or unwilling to fully let go. Lisa understood it- she really did. She was so well aware that she was turning down the safe option to risk everything with him. Hell, if it didn't work out down the line, what would she do then? Keep making a life for her damn self, that's what. She had made her case, but now it was his turn. He had to meet her halfway, allow her to take that chance. It had to be mutual or they would keep coming back to this point, even more ad nauseum than they already were.
"What do you want?" she murmured, her fingertips grazing the soft patch where his jaw met his neck. "Do you want me to go?" She knew the question was so overly simple, but she had to hear the exact words from him. "Tell me you want me to leave, and I will." She was going to make him say it, and she wouldn't let him skip that direct command. He had to say the words. "But you're not going to talk me out of it."
Jackson shook his head against hers again, finally tilting in for a soft, yet firm kiss. "I don't want to talk you out of it," he admitted, but he felt some obligation to continue. This was just so fucking reckless. "I just want you to be safe, Leese."
Almost everything in him screamed to just shut the hell up and give her what she wanted, what he wanted. He was hearing fucking everything he had wanted to hear, on a personal level, at least. He wanted to cry, wanted to say fuck their injuries and wrap his arms tightly around her, never letting go. He wanted to have this woman at his side, his partner. Someone with whom he had to compromise, someone who supported him when he was faltering and would help him come out a better person on the other side. A woman with him by pure choice instead of tied to him through history, blood, or convenience- no obligations.
A brand new direction in his story of one let-down after another.
But he couldn't fully let it all go. There was no magic password, no cheat code to just drop the self-loathing he had clung to for so many years, the idea that when it came down to it, he was alone and it was for a reason. That so many of the let-downs he had experienced were his own fault in some way or another.
But there was no way in hell he could send her on her way, not after everything she had said. No. Fucking. Way. Maybe it was purely emotional- and maybe there were no 'maybes' about it- but her words just pulled at him, and he wanted to believe. He wanted to trust, but-
"I don't need to be safe," Lisa replied, her voice dropping again. "I'd rather be alive."
Jackson couldn't keep back a soft chuckle at his expense. He was such a fucking hypocrite. How could he have been so blind? He himself had made that exact choice, opting to stay in his life of murder and deception over the safe option, even when it had meant losing her. Simply put- who the hell was he to begrudge her that same decision? Why the fuck was he fighting her so hard when all she wanted to do was make her own choices? Where did he get off?
He finally nodded, letting go of that stubborn side of himself with a sweet release and bringing up a hand to cover Lisa's. He would have to buy Jamie a new pair of boots for the best advice she could have given him- you can't logic your way out of love. It wasn't supposed to make sense. It was just a question of what felt right, for God's sake. Let it go.
The sound of a flicking lighter caught Jackson's attention, bursting the warmth and reminding him that they had an audience. He reluctantly pulled from Lisa, giving her one more smile and another nod before turning to face his mother. They may have made the decision, but it didn't erase reality. Now they had to fight for it.
"This is all very sweet," Spencer began, and Jackson noted a surprising hint of sincerity behind the sarcasm, "but there is no way that's happening."
Jackson shrugged, not bothered by her response. If she would have agreed, he probably would have been suspicious. "We weren't really asking," he explained, as though the words were even necessary. Both parties were well aware this wasn't going to be a simple discussion.
"Do me a favor and think," Spencer replied, taking a drag from her cigarette. Jackson did bristle at the implication that he hadn't in the first place- he had hardly ever stopped, and it had made the situation so much more complicated than it ever should have been. "This woman is a handicap- you saw what she did in the hotel lobby."
Jackson clenched his jaw, unable to offer any other explanation than 'she's new at this', but Lisa jumped right in, sounding furious.
"You set that up?" she demanded, shifting to sit next to Jackson. "You tried to make me blow it? How the hell-"
"You thought it was a random incident?" the woman asked, staring at both of them as though they were crazy. "Someone just happened to call out your name?"
"I thought it was more believable than the CIA 'randomly' trying to ruin our cover," Jackson replied, sharing the woman's incredulous tone.
Spencer shook her head, chuckling dryly. "We were running surveillance," she explained, actually speaking to Lisa this time. "It was a final test for his director, to confirm that she was trying to get him out of the way. We told Keefe we were additional security for him and reported the specs of his team to Marie, but she requested no additional assistance. When my associate spotted you, I told him to run a test. Oh," she continued, her voice sharpening as she turned back to her son, "what the hell is Caleb doing back in it?"
Jackson scoffed softly, rotating his neck to relax the tense muscles. So much for keeping that secret. "I'm surprised your boy didn't tell you," he replied, avoiding her question. He knew his tone was bitter- it still pissed him off that Ben had gone behind his back on everything.
"Apparently he's not my boy," she shot back, pausing for a moment. "Yet."
Jackson chuckled, accepting the cigarette when she offered again. "He's not interested," he replied for the New Yorker, knowing full well what Spencer meant by that. "And if you asked him, he'd probably tell you to 'eat a dick, respectfully'." The idea of Ben letting himself get recruited was beyond laughable. The man took the CIA about as seriously as he took anything else.
"We'll see," was all she said, and Jackson saw a small smile tug at her lips at his impression of his teammate. The two had actually gotten along quite well when Ben tagged along on prison visits- she had always had a soft spot for him.
"Especially considering the way you handle things," Jackson pointed out, shifting the discussion right back to Spencer's test. "That's the…" He trailed off, taking a short drag- his lungs were nowhere near able to handle anything normal, but this strange exchange of the drug added some sense of civility to the entire thing. "You could have fucked it all up, you know." He had to admit though, he was somewhat impressed. Assuming Spencer had been in the lobby at the time, she had managed to remain unnoticed by the brothers.
His mother shrugged, a cockier smile on her lips. "Better early on than before you let it get too far," she replied, her cold tone matching her expression. She crossed one leg over the other, leaning forward. "When are you going to learn to think?" she asked, abruptly switching to French.
Jackson shrugged, caught off guard by the language change for a moment. She was the one who had taught him and Caleb when they were still young. Jackson had picked it up better from the start, and he and his mother had spent countless hours conversing. He used to find it so fun, speaking in a language that no one else around them knew.
"I have learned," he insisted, switching right along with her. He did feel like something of an ass for keeping Lisa out of the conversation entirely, but honestly, this was between him and Jacqueline Spencer- the woman he had been named after. He took another drag, passing back the cigarette. "I've changed- I'm not that emotional kid anymore- you just need to accept it."
"It would be easier to accept if you weren't about to fall to pieces when she bats her eyelashes," his mother replied frankly, taking a deeper drag. Jackson could see the disappointment in her eyes, and despite everything he insisted to himself, he hated it.
"It's not like that," he explained, taking a drink from his water, not bothering to get defensive. Appeals would get him nowhere- the woman only spoke hard ice. "Think what you want, though- you don't know anything."
Spencer shrugged. "I know that people like us aren't meant to be normal," she replied. "And you know that, too."
Jackson grinned, taking the cigarette back. "That would be incredibly useful if I was trying to be normal," he countered, "and a fucking amateur." Enough pretending that they were people who had any reason to speak to each other. It was far too late for that- it was just business now. He seamlessly switched back to English. "But cut the shit- here's the deal: I can tell you right now what Lisa is going to say if you try to force her back. She'll get a little dramatic and tell you that you're going to have to kill her." He didn't have to look at Lisa- he saw the grin all the same.
"Sounds about right," Spencer muttered, undeterred. "And I take it you will stand in front of her?"
Jackson tilted his head from side to side, pretending to ponder the question. "Of course- it wouldn't be an over the top scene without my going Pocahontas, would it?" he replied sarcastically. "Assuming you have a gun, I'll be dead, you'll shoot her, and the government will be fucked until the good people of America find a new cause."
Jackson took another drag, this time deeper. He was settling back into his role, the cocky manager who smiled at the depravity of his own plans. And smiling he was, the dark little grin he had worn so many times in the past. He had missed the manager- he generally received respect, if not fear. The manager fortified his spine, and he had it together infinitely better than Jackson on his own.
"But that wouldn't be a happy ending, would it?" he continued, handing the cigarette back to his mother. "So instead, how about you get the hell out and let me talk to my associates?"
Spencer shook her head, but this time it was an actual response. "You know I can't do-"
"And you know that's not how this works," Jackson interrupted, his voice steady as brick. "I don't take orders from you." He didn't know who the woman thought she was talking to, but that was the key- he was not her subordinate. Not that she was his, but he was demanding the opportunity to form his own plan with his team, as was procedure, and then they could continue their discussion when he had something to present. "Let me do my damn job without interfering for once."
Spencer raised an eyebrow, but Jackson knew he had her. She had just admitting to interfering from the moment Jackson had arrived back in Miami, and even before that. She owed him. "Five minutes," she snapped, getting to her feet and tossing the cigarette in Jackson's water glass. Jackson nodded- it was plenty of time. He already had an idea, a small piece of penance for a certain Russian. It was a plan he had been forming over the last two days, when he hadn't been obsessing about other things, but now it needed to be modified to include covering Lisa's ass as well. That wouldn't be hard, in theory, but made it somewhat more complicated to present to the New Yorker.
He reached for his phone as his mother left the room, not even bothering to watch her go. He heard felt Lisa moving next to him, and tensed, inhaling sharply as he realized just how little he had been breathing in those past minutes. "Jackson-"
"Don't," he replied, but his voice had no ice in it. "I need to focus- remember?" The truth was that it was killing him to have that raw heart-to-heart only to revert right back to business, but that was exactly why he had to pull it in, let the manager in him take control. "Things are going to get a little harsh, so…" He trailed off, so much less bothered by the idea of Lisa hearing the manager than he had been earlier in the week. It was just part of who he was. "Don't take it personally."
Lisa nodded, watching Jackson quickly dial a number, abruptly switching the phone to speaker mode again. She was in. She was finally part of it. Of course she was worried about him, but they had all the time they needed later. For now, it was back to her needing to give him space, and him needing to concentrate on the job.
Jackson handed the phone off to Lisa, leaning back his head and resting it against the wall as he waited for a response. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for what was sure to be an unpleasant conversation.
"God, this is bullshit," Ben snapped, ramming his fist against the passenger window and slumping in his seat, glaring at his phone.
"Then stop playing," Caleb replied, not turning away from the road.
"If I stop, the birds win," Ben muttered, staring at those two stars that taunted him mercilessly. He wanted the third, dammit. He carefully shifted his feet from the blanketed corpse, resting his legs on the dashboard instead. It was too cramped- he was so fucking cranky. He tossed the phone onto his lap and crossed his arms, letting his aviators fall over his eyes with a quick jerk of his head as he lolled his head to the side, eyeing Caleb. "When are you going to tell Jack you're back?"
"Are you excited to meet Sasha?" his friend snapped, not-so-subtly telling Ben to fuck off. No one was in a good mood. Jamie might have been, but the woman was passed out in the backseat. Nikita hadn't said more than three words in the last hour, choosing to stare out the window instead. She had never been one to involve herself in petty bickering.
They had been on the road far too long, and Ben was starting to wonder if the Donner Party just lost their shit and the cannibalism was a perk, not the purpose. Oh, they died on their own and we were starving, my ass.
"About as excited as you are to suck-" Ben's response was interrupted by the chiming on an incoming call over the car speakers, interrupting his iPod. "Hold that thought," he said, leaning forward to hit the 'accept' button. It hadn't taken him long to sync to Cheryl's car, mostly because he had no desire to hold a phone to his ear if or when Jackson chose to call. "Speak if you must."
"Hello to you, too," came Jackson's reply, and Ben raised an eyebrow at just how irritated the man sounded. He and Spencer must have been having one hell of a chat. "You're being headhunted."
"Oh," Ben replied, forcing a lighter tone into his voice as he scratched his jaw. He might be cranky, but he felt that strange urge to lighten the mood, even if he had to drag Jackson kicking and screaming into that amusement. "Spencer wants me?" He paused, glancing over at Caleb, who just shrugged. "I might be game- is she hot?"
"...don't ever ask me that again," Jackson replied after a long pause, and Ben could hear Lisa laughing in the background. He grinned at that downright weird tone in the manager's voice. He wasn't sure how such a simple question would throw the younger man off his game, but Jackson was slowly losing his mind, so...
"She's that ugly, huh?" he asked, resting his head against the window. "Does she at least have big tits?"
All Ben heard for a moment was louder laughter from Lisa, and finally a short "no" from Jackson.
"Not interested, then," Ben replied, yawning. Not that he ever was, but he didn't have to explain- Jackson had only mentioned it for kicks, anyway. "Is that it?"
"I feel a lot less guilty now," he heard Jackson say to Lisa, but he knew the man was still talking to him. He was being baited- it was yet another little routine, and Ben was game. He was so bored, much more than he was curious.
"What did you do this time?" he asked, lifting his head to scratch his scalp, making his hair stand on end.
"Remind me-" Jackson began again, already much looser than he had been at the beginning of the call, "-how long has it been since I threw you under a bus?"
"Yeah, it's been a while," Ben replied, yawning again. He could veer the conversation in a much darker area by bringing up his exile, but there wasn't any point to being that spiteful. Maybe later. "What do you want from me?"
"I'm giving you up," Jackson replied, and Ben raised both eyebrows, glancing over at Caleb again, who was matching his surprised expression. The fuck? "To the feds." The fuck?
"Am I allowed to ask why?" Ben asked, tapping his knuckles against the window. "Or should I shut up and perfect my soap-gripping skills?" He heard Nikita lean forward from behind him, obviously just as confused as the rest of them. He just hoped she would keep her mouth shut for the moment.
"You're not going to prison," Jackson assured him, and Ben shrugged, still unsure of where exactly this conversation was headed. He wasn't sure he liked it, though- Jackson didn't seem to be joking. He remained silent, waiting for the manager to continue. "We need someone to connect Lisa to Keefe, and since you lived in the same building, it's you."
Ben scoffed in disbelief, watching Caleb's grip on the steering wheel tighten. "And how exactly are you going to connect us?" he asked, his patience beginning to wane. "I wasn't aware I was even involved."
"You aren't yet," Jackson replied, "But the Pointe will have you on camera getting the keys from the trainees." The keys used during the attack, is what Jackson didn't have to say. Ben set his jaw, bringing his feet back down and sitting upright. "And I'm sure there's a security camera somewhere that caught your car leaving the scene."
"And they'll also have Nik with us," he reminded Jackson, turning to the woman in the backseat. "Or do you want to throw her to the wolves, too?" Nikita's eyes widened, and she shook her head. Ben nodded, silent assuring her that he had no intention to ruin her life like that. If she was identified at all, she would have to stay with her husband for protection. Otherwise, Odessa would give her up.
Jackson remained silent, but Ben knew what it meant. It didn't mean that he was just realizing it, or that he was at all thinking of an alternate plan. He knew- he was entirely fucking aware. Ben closed his eyes, biting back a slew of insults. He trusted Jackson more than that. If he was even suggesting such a thing, he had a damn good reason.
"Tell me why," Ben demanded, turning back to the speakers. "Don't summarize- tell me why."
Jackson sighed. "Spencer wants to return Lisa to her family," he explained after pausing a moment, and Ben was surprised not to hear the phone come off of speaker. Jackson knew that Ben was about to say some unkind things, to say the least, and the fact that he didn't seem to care if Lisa heard didn't make the New Yorker feel at all better. He wasn't hiding her from any of it anymore, which just didn't bode well for Ben. "The public isn't buying the story, and-"
Ben wanted to cut in with an and how the hell is that my problem?, but he respected the older brother too much for that. He had demanded a full explanation, and he was going to let Jackson get it out before he told him to fuck himself.
"-we need someone connecting her. The feds don't want the official story being that she killed herself because they were wrongly stalking her. Doesn't look good."
"And what sacrifices are you making?" Caleb asked sharply. His tone was both defensive and accusing, but Ben saw the calm in the man's features and knew the emotion was just for show. Caleb was just making his brother say it out loud.
"You're going to show up on some of those tapes, too," Jackson explained. "The one with you, Lisa, and Ben at Camden Brickell, and I assume you all checked out at similar times and got in the same vehicle, right? And that you checked out as me, assuming Lisa would check you both out later?"
"Absolutely not," Caleb snapped, his voice getting harder, and Ben shook his head. Jackson was going to give up John Kline, too? All for Lisa? A woman he had known for a few weeks? "You've put years into that alias- this is asinine."
Ben nodded shortly, clenching his jaw when Jackson didn't continue. "I said all of it," he snapped. Now that he heard the 'unabridged' version, he knew it was half-bullshit, half-held back. There was no way that keeping Lisa around was Jackson's entire reason- no fucking way. He just couldn't be that stupid. "Otherwise, you're asking me to give up my alias, go on the run, and uproot Nikita and Sasha's lives so you can have Lisa. And that can't be your reason, Jack." He glanced over at Caleb again, noting that the man didn't look any more impressed. "There's no way. Because if that's your reason-"
"You speak Russian fluently," Jackson pointed out quickly, and Ben didn't reply. There was no response to that, and none was wanted, anyway. Jackson wasn't finished. "But you don't know shit about the government or their underground organizations -at least, not enough to identify them- unless you've taken up a new obsession since you left New York. So you tell me, Ben."
And there it was. No, Jackson wasn't an idiot, and Ben knew he had been caught. "I know people," was all he said, pressing his fist against the window. And that was all he planned to say- he wasn't laying down his cards just yet, especially over the phone with witnesses. The things he had done to get that information and the people with whom he had associated weren't exactly the kind the agency liked to work with- in fact, they were the kind the agency would normally take out.
"Exactly," Jackson replied shortly, and Ben paled. There was such an accusation in that one word, delivered as only a Rippner could.
"So you're setting me up because you think I've gone rogue?" he asked calmly, but he couldn't help but feel a slight fear. Between the Spencer business and now this secret association, it didn't look good for him.
"No," the manager replied, his voice still even. "I'm going to assume I know you well enough to know that you're doing it for a reason. But I think connecting you to the Chechens could have an advantage down the line, and I think you know it, too."
Ben nodded, now refusing to meet Caleb's eyes. The younger twin knew all about Ben's dealings with the Russian mob in Miami, about his contact, Khalid, who was actually a Chechen infiltrator. Ben had carefully befriended Khalid during his years in Miami, and it was that man who had verified that the "Russians" Marie was working with were anything but.
But it was such a fucking delicate tightrope Ben walked- associating with the Russians, period, let alone double-crossing them and cozying up to a Chechen mobster. It had required every drop of Ben's silver-tongued cunning, and if any of them figured out who he was and especially who he worked for, the entire plan he had been painstakingly piecing together would unravel in such a graphic way- an underground war, or at least one hell of an execution.
Caleb was the one who had confirmed that Ben couldn't reveal his work to Jackson until the Keefe business had wound down, mostly because the manager had enough on his plate. And Ben had planned to tell Jackson everything once this was over, but it was all coming out at such an inconvenient time. And Ben wasn't about to rat out Caleb as his conspirator.
He was stuck, really- Jackson was going to give him up with or without his agreement, and there was nothing Ben could do about it except flee yet again. But in addition to running, the New Yorker also had a penchant for making demands even when his back was against the wall, and he was willing to use it to his advantage yet again.
"Well, here's what you're going to do for me, then," he began, unclenching and clenching his fist a few times. "If I'm giving up Alexei Kadnikov," he continued, referring to his alias, "as well as Nik and Sasha, then you're going to make sure they get complete government protection- new names, a work history, education history- the fucking works. And if anything happens to them, you're going to turn yourself in."
"Deal," Jackson replied without hesitation. "What else?"
Nikita leaned forward, grabbing Ben's shoulder. "Do I get a say in this?" she asked in Russian, her voice cold and her eyes flashing.
"Not really," he replied, frowning, flipping his sunglasses onto his head. It was so hard to make civilians understand when an offer wasn't optional. It probably made it harder to understand when Jackson had presented the plan to him as though it were anything less than an absolute 'this is how it is'. "I'll keep you safe, though," he swore, "and you already knew leaving Ilia was going to get you kicked out of Brighton."
He winced when Nikita punched him hard in the shoulder. "It's not like I meant for any of this when I asked for help," he insisted, turning as best he could to face the angry woman. "They'll give you a good start on a new life, and you don't have to ever see me again if you don't want to."
"Cocksucker," Nikita spat, and Ben frowned. She only called him that when she truly hated him. But Jesus, there wasn't much he could do about it. If there was any other way, he would have suggested it by now. Jackson wasn't giving him a choice. "I'm part of it, then," she insisted, reverting back to English, and that surprised Ben, to say the least. "I'm not your collateral damage- I'm helping you take these assholes down."
Ben raised an eyebrow, but Nikita just leaned closer to him, now gripping his shoulder tightly. "I'm done being told where to go and what to do by you russkiye," she told him, her voice bitter. "I can shoot, I know computers better than you," she reminded him, and motioned toward the car speakers with her head, "and I know Russian. Does your big boss?"
Ben couldn't keep back a grin, turning to face the front as he lit a cigarette. He had often loved how brazen the woman could be. He couldn't help but wonder if it had been her plan all along, in some part, at least. He had been skeptical when she had told him about school- a straight life never suited the criminal in her.
"Great," Jackson replied simply, obviously thrown off by her response, but just as obviously not about to turn down skilled assistance, and then repeated his previous question. "What else?"
Ben turned to Caleb, who simply nodded, silently letting him know to go ahead with the plan they had discussed on the way to Texas. He glanced over his shoulder again, about to tell Nikita to wake up Jamie, but the woman was already staring at him. "Well, you're going to be director," he began, not breaking eye contact with the lead. He simply watched her bemused expression, knowing he was about to figuratively slap her in the face.
Jackson hesitated. "Maybe," he replied, and Ben gave Jamie a final apologetic smile.
"It wasn't a question," he explained, turning to face the front again. And it wasn't- the tone was a formality. "You're going to take over as director, and when you do, I'm your second." Normally, he might not be so bold at such a time, but he was acting on Caleb's advice: give him a demand, not a request.
The men knew it would make Jackson squirm, but when it came down to it, he would respect it, even if he didn't agree immediately. So Ben was prepared for the "You've got to be fucking kidding me" that came in response.
"Not at all," he replied, taking a deep drag. This part wasn't optional- there was absolutely no one else in the world he would trust with his 'baby' than the Rippners. If Jackson remained a mere manager, he would still have to get approval before he could take any action on Ben's information, and that opened the entire thing to meddling.
"Excuse me?" Jamie snapped, but Ben didn't turn around. He knew he was out of line in her eyes, but this was partially how it had to be and partially how he wanted it. He needed the final go ahead on his plan to be Jackson's, and he sure as hell wasn't taking a place behind Jamie. Not because he had absolutely anything against the woman- she was a great lead, from everything he had heard- but because he knew he had risen beyond third place. Jackson was going places, and Ben was going right with him- he had earned this opportunity.
"I'm your second, or I disappear and take everything I know with me." He turned to Caleb, a grimace on his face. He just wasn't used to talking to Jackson like this, especially threatening him, but if it accomplished his goal, he would play whatever he had to play. It was a valid threat, he knew. The agency might have incredible resources, but Ben just knew the underworld better.
"What the fuck-" Jamie began, but Jackson cut her off quickly, apparently having zero interest in listening to them fight it out.
"I'll think about it," he replied, and Ben knew he had gotten what he wanted. If Jackson was going to refuse, he would refuse. His lack of commitment was to save face, to avoid jumping entirely into a whiplash decision, just as Ben's threat gave him a chance to claim his back was against the wall, if that was what he wanted. Or maybe it did back him into a wall- it all amounted to the same thing.
"Jackson-" Jamie began again, but Ben heard another woman's voice in the background of the incoming phone call, and knew Jackson was about to hang up on them. It was definitely Spencer.
"Let me know when it's done," Jackson said quickly, just has Ben had predicted, and the line went dead.
Caleb reached over and snatched the cigarette from Ben's fingers, and for a moment, the car was silent, the occupants seemingly giving themselves a moment to absorb everything that had just happened.
"How the hell could you do that to me?" Jamie snapped, punching Ben in that same shoulder. Ben scoffed, smiling sadly as he lit a new cigarette. There were so many answers he wanted to give, but they were all petty and would cause so much more damage than it was worth.
"I didn't do shit to you," he replied calmly, and Caleb took a drag, keeping his eyes on the road. It was strange, but he was always fascinated by the different ways people expressed their anger, and Jamie and Ben were particularly interesting. Jamie was a screamer, a total Inglewood girl, and Ben was cool, collected Brooklyn. The louder she got, the more confidently steady he was, but neither pulled their punches.
"You didn't do shit to me?" Jamie paraphrased, "I've taken point for him for four fucking years and you just come in-"
"I didn't 'just come in' anywhere," Ben replied, talking right over- under?- her. "You know damn well I would have been his second, but you and I couldn't work together, so I left, but I-"
"Exactly! You left and he's changed. You have no right-"
"-am not sitting on the sidelines anymore," Ben continued, taking a drag of his cigarette. "I've put in too much work on this, and-"
"And I haven't?" she snapped. "It's my fucking job, and you stole it from-"
"I couldn't have stolen it, Jaylin," Ben reminded her, taking a drink of his Coke. "If Jack didn't want me, he would have told me to fuck off, and you know it. Just take a second, and think about it instead of-"
Caleb's eyes widened slightly. She was not going to take that one well. "Jamie, you know he's going to make-"
"Oh, fucking of course you defend him," Jamie interrupted, turning on him. "Of course, because you two are totally-"
"Don't finish that sentence," Ben snapped, turning to look at the woman, and Caleb shook his head. He knew exactly what the younger woman was getting at- it was the same shit, different day- if he or Ben defended the other, they were told something along the lines of 'why don't you fuck and get it over with?' It was irritating, but it was life, and they were used to it.
"You're going to be the manager of his team," Caleb reminded her quickly, getting the words in before she could retort. He did understand where the woman was coming from. She was obviously devoted to Jackson, and she was likely feeling completely betrayed, by all three of them now. In a way, she was, but at the same time, she wasn't. "And Marie doesn't have a second, so it's not as though there was a position to fill."
"But it's bullshit," Jamie insisted, but something in her tone had changed. She wasn't yelling at either of them now- she was venting to them, despite traces of the same accusation. "You both left us, and I stayed, but he's throwing me out because you're back."
Ben scoffed again, obviously taking issue with the word 'left', as he fucking should, but Caleb knew he wasn't going to say anything about it. The man was usually good at not saying something he would regret- he was so incredibly in control of his words. For his part, Caleb just frowned- the woman could be so insecure sometimes, and he had never figured out exactly how to make her realize that she took it all too personally.
He took a final drag from the cigarette, tossing it out the window. If Ben wasn't going to stand up for himself, Caleb wasn't going to get involved any more than he already had, mostly because he and Jamie had never connected nearly as well as she and Ben or she and Jackson had- he just didn't know how to talk to her sometimes.
There was no point in explaining that this promotion would benefit both of them. Without it, he knew there would be conflict in who was promoted to manager after Jackson became director. The job should naturally be Jamie's, but back around the time Jackson was originally being promoted to manager, every person on the team had assumed that Ben would be his lead- he just had an edge that the woman didn't possess.
Ben riled Jackson, but also got through to him like few could. Jamie was easier to work with- she had always gotten along beautifully with his brother. She hadn't ever been much of a challenge to Jackson, and sometimes, more often than not, really, the inability to meet perfectly was necessary. And Caleb had no way of knowing for sure, but he had a hunch that the methodical machine of a man Jackson had become was a result of that lack of friction. Simply put- Jackson always got his way, and he lost his spark. It wasn't Jamie's fault- they had all done their part, and she had picked up the pieces as best she could. He couldn't fault her in the least.
And furthermore, she should be manager over Ben, in Caleb's opinion. The man just wasn't comfortable leading- he was too prone to wanting to handle things himself, to be at the forefront of the problem. Ben had been correct when he had said he needed to be needed, but he definitely didn't want the responsibility. He never had. Having Jackson need him while still not having to take care of a team was a perfect place for him. The man was a born second-in-command, as much of a backhanded compliment as that may be.
And the bottom line was that Ben owed the woman nothing, as crude as it was. And he certainly shouldn't be expected to give up his dream position out of some kind of loyalty, especially when Jamie was better where she was.
"Are you finished?" Nikita asked from the backseat, and Caleb grinned faintly. Another calm, blunt one. He had to admit, Ben had eclectic tastes- the women seemed so different from each other, but it made sense, he supposed. Ben had quite the varying personality, and the opposites in the back seat both managed to make sense, although in Caleb's opinion, neither were right for him. "What are we going to do about Sasha?"
Caleb adjusted his sunglasses, barely listening to the two making their plans. He did hear Ben mention Minnesota, but it still didn't particularly pull him in. He knew that Ben was well aware he could bring his daughter to Minnesota if he wanted, so his permission wasn't required. Instead, he paid more attention to Ben's changing demeanor, how serious he was when he spoke to the Russian woman.
He knew that he was probably over-thinking before knowing all the facts, and should drop it, but as long as he never said what was on his mind, what did it hurt? And as usual, he enjoyed the distraction. As far as he could see, Ben needed some kind of blend of the two women, and then some. He needed Nikita's calm intelligence, and her incredible dedication and determination, but he also needed the fire, passion, and playfulness that Jamie brought, even if that combination seemed impossible.
Ben turned around again and stared at the road, having finished the conversation with Nikita. It hadn't been nearly as complex as he had expected- everyone was on board. Nikita had called Sasha, and Jamie had called Drake, one of Jackson's low levels. Nikita told Sasha meet up with Drake on her way to school, and Drake would bring her to Minnesota. They were going to drive, which accomplished getting the girl out of New York early, but not getting her to Minnesota before anyone was there to meet her. It was all nicely packaged with a pretty little bow- except for the whole 'meeting his daughter after fourteen years of nothing', but that was a panic attack better left for later.
He briefly glanced over at Caleb, who was obviously in his own world again. The man drifted in and out of reality so damn easily sometimes, and there were moments Ben would give his entire computer system to know what was going on in that ever-shifting mind. "What are you thinking?" he asked, deciding to go the straight route this time. He might get thirty percent of the story, but he was too tired to weave in and out of the intricacies of Caleb's thoughts.
"That we're going to die," Caleb replied flatly, lighting another cigarette. "I just hope we can get her first." Ben nodded. He really had to agree on that- it wasn't looking good for them.
"Pull over," he said softly, checking his phone screen. They would be there in about half an hour, and at some point Caleb and he had to trade places again. It was as good a time as any.
Caleb did so, and Ben limped his way to the driver's seat, bracing his weight on the car as he moved. When the two were situated again, Ben was surprised when Caleb handed his cigarette to him and began stripping down. "I know we could all be dead tomorrow, but there's witnesses, man," he joked, lamely referring to the popular apocalyptic pick up line, but his smile faded when he saw Caleb pulling on his old bloody clothes.
"I want her to see them," the younger twin replied simply, throwing his t-shirt over his head, and Ben nodded gravely. If they were right, which they probably were, Marie had sent her brother to his death just to throw them off-track. They might as well let her squirm a bit first, before they were all killed by whomever waited at the ranch. Ben would actually be offended and damn disappointed if it was just Marie at this point.
"So we're going to storm the place?" Jamie asked skeptically, leaning forward again. "We're not even going to pretend it's normal?" Ben shook his head, not starting the car.
"Don't worry- nothing that dramatic," he replied, taking a drag of Caleb's cigarette before handing it back to him. "You and Cal go in, and I'll come in through the garage, same as before."
"And me," Nikita reminded him, and Ben reluctantly nodded again. The idea of involving her at this level didn't sit well with him, but it was her life to risk. He didn't do protection, especially when every able shooter was needed. If she wanted to throw in her hat, he wasn't going to refuse. He was going to keep her hiding in that goddamn car unless she was absolutely necessary, though.
"But Cal's right," he added, turning in his seat to better see all three. "There's a fucking good chance we won't make it, so don't anyone start thinking otherwise. We just have to take her out, no matter what. So if anyone isn't feeling particularly self-sacrificing, feel free to get out. Hitchhiking might still be legal in this shithole."
The four sat in silence, and Ben chewed his lower lip, waiting for the completely justified surrender from any of them. He wasn't one for wishful thinking or hypothetical daydreams, but if he could make one wish, it would be a better plan. There was still the chance that they were wrong, but in his gut, Ben knew it was a suicide mission. Some of them or one of them might make it out, but all four? How could they pull off the impossible twice in one week? Three times, if he counted how outmatched they were in those cars with Robert.
But no one said a word, and as Ben scanned their faces, he noted for the hundredth time in his life that he wasn't in a movie. There was never so much as a glimpse of strong determination, optimism, whatever it was called in his teammates' faces. Maybe 'delusion' was the best word- with some epic, sweeping orchestrated score and a fierce battle cry or some inspiring shit like that. But it had never come- not once.
Instead, he saw nothing in Caleb and Jamie's faces. This was what they had been trained- hell, programmed- to do. The directive came first, their lives, second. None of what he had said made the slightest impact on them, because each of them, Ben included, had always kept in the back of their minds that chances were all too high that they wouldn't live to see thirty. Ben wasn't sure how he had made it to that magical third decade himself, but it was what it was.
It had to end sometime, so it might as well end with him doing something instead of joining the walking dead who accepted the shitty cards that were dealt. He couldn't even get the adrenaline high anymore- prepping himself for death each time it was a possibility had just become too exhausting over the years. Even his speech, as small as it was, was a formality.
"Well, at least we had some fun, right?" he murmured, finally turning on the car and stepping on the gas, wasting no more time as they headed toward yet another possible fanfare-less final destination.