Name: Compliments of the Gentleman

Rating: PG-11

Summary: It's been six months since Lisa Reisert boarded that fateful plane to Miami; since she met Jackson Rippner. She's tried to move on, but she can't help but wonder about him, especially when she flies. One night she and Cynthia go out to dinner after a long day and she sees a ghost. Or is it so?

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but a few cameo characters are mine.

XXXX

Jackson Rippner failed.

There, on the polished floor of the house of the one job he failed at, he bled. He slipped into unconsciousness, closing his eyes for the final time, the weakness from two bullet wounds, a stab wound in his throat and a clubbed leg overtaking his worn body. His red hair fell across his eyes, covering his dark eyelids that hid his breath-taking blue orbs. His body went limp.

Lisa Reisert, the terrorized victim of Jackson's newest job that would have resulted in the assassination of a political figure debating homeland-security, cautiously stared down at Jackson, cringing when the wound in his chest spurted with metallic blood. Her fathers questioning pleas didn't even register with her; she never even heard them. Everything was concentrated on Jackson, heaving a heavy sigh. She didn't know what to feel; she knew she should have felt angry with this man and relief that he was finally surrendered, but she couldn't help stare down at him with sympathy and pain. Sympathy because she believed he didn't deserve that type of death and pain, but also sadness because—even if she wouldn't tell anyone, especially him—she had felt compellingly attracted to him and maybe even fell for him.

But now he was gone, dead to the world, vanished to her. Despite his desperate attempts to destroy her, intent on an easy breakdown, she still cared for him.

XXXX

Six months later, Lux Atlantic Hotel…

Lisa took broad steps as she strode across the marble lobby at the hotel, manila folder clutched in her hands, eyes focused on the front desk. Two women—including her friend and close associate Cynthia—were busily working the desk, multi-tasking between the telephones, sipping their late afternoon caffeine, and checking in new customers; they were doing exactly what they had been taught.

Lisa smiled brightly at a few of the regular Friday night residents, seated patiently in the lounging area as they waited for their turn to be checked in for the night, and maneuvered around the grand desk that separated the customers from the employees. She grabbed the phone as it rung without mercy, distracting the new girl, Isabelle, from an obvious jetlagged businessman, his voice rising with each small mistake the young redhead made.

"Lux Atlantic, Lisa speaking." Lisa recited automatically, beginning to flip through the desk behind the counter that held all information about the people checking in during the long span of the day.

This system had been created after the almost-Keefe assassination half a year ago and had yet to fail. It was proving to be of most help. On a small notepad off the side, Lisa wrote down the information the caller was warmly giving her on the phone, putting a dazzling smile of pleasantry on the weary woman's features. She'd been working non-stop for nearly forty-eight hours and it was definitely starting to show in her absence of needed energy.

She hung up the phone and worked silently, listening to Isabelle as she desperately tried to calm this man who was only bulging more and more by the word. Her face was contorted into an expression of fear mixed with chagrin. She'd admitted the first time she'd messed up that she wasn't kind to messing her job up, she liked to get work done without personal issues interfering; hearing this the first time, Lisa had instantly been reminded of Jackson. She couldn't help it…she couldn't let him go. Maybe it was hope, or anger, or fear. Whatever it was, it was something. Of course, Isabelle was still new to the job and had her share of mistakes.

This looked to be one of those times when she was drowning and begged to be saved. Lisa stepped in next to her, surprising Isabelle, and turned her attention to the man. "Hello, my name's Lisa. Is there an issue here?"

The man glared at her, his furious eyes never faltering. "Yes, it appears so! This…woman is having problems checking me in. She has no idea what the hell she's doing!"

"Well, sir, I'm quite sorry. We just received new systems a few days ago and we're all having difficulties with learning them in such a short amount of time. You cannot blame her." Lisa explained calmly, making something up off the top of her head.

"I very well can!" The man paused, running a hand over his baldhead. "Listen, I'm tired and all I want is to go up to my hotel room—which I've already paid for, in advance—and take a shower then go get something to eat. Is that so damn difficult?"

"Sir, I will get you taken care of, I promise." Lisa glanced at Isabelle and silently indicated she needed to get to the computer. Isabelle moved over hastily, folding her hands together in front of her. Lisa smiled at her and looked back at the man, her fingers poised over the keyboard. "What's you name, sir?"

"Adams, Jackson Adams." the man said, leaning on the counter.

Lisa froze, gawking at the man, but she shook it off and typed his information in, running through the veteran system. She had to stop thinking about him. After a moment, she looked up at Mr. Adams and handed him the key-card he would need to grant him access into his room on the seventh floor. He scoffed at the two women and rudely didn't even mutter "thanks", but stalked menacingly to the elevator.

Lisa turned to Isabelle, seeing that there were no other people waiting in line for the moment. The French woman was staring at her feet, purposely hiding her face from her mentor. "I'm sorry Lisa, I screwed that one up."

Lisa placed her hands on Isabelle's shoulders. "It's okay. We all make mistakes." She hooked her chin and forced her eyes to level with hers. "You just can't let them get to you; they'll eat you. Yes, there are the nice ones, but there are also many ones like Mr. Adams there who don't care about anything but themselves." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar favorite couple approach the desk, their luggage in tow. "Hey, take a break. I'll cover for you. You look like you need coffee."

"Really? You'd do that?" Isabelle asked questioningly.

"Well, as you mentor, no. I should make you work, but I can make exceptions. Now go before I change my mind."

Isabelle nodded and disappeared through the swinging doors to the employee's lounge. After she had gone, Lisa eagerly walked around the counter and sidled up to the elderly couple. They were newcomers, on vacation from overseas, but they were a joy to have around for the last two weeks, mainly because of their positive attitudes. Of course, Lisa's high school French was finally coming in handy; the couple was from Paris and only spoke French.

"Bonjour, Monsieur et Madame Cherone." Lisa greeted happily.

The man and woman both turned to her. "Bonjour, Lisa." Monsieur Cherone repeated.

"Comment se sont passees tes vacanes?" (How was your vacation?)

"C'était incroyable!" Madame Cherone insisted. (It was amazing!)

"Ca s'est très bien passe!" Monsieur Cherone agreed, making a gesture of excellence. (It went really well)

"Très bien." Lisa beamed. (Very good.)

"Nous aimons l'hôtel." (We love the hotel)

Lisa awed. "Merci." She leaned forward and kissed each of them on the cheek. "Revenu n'importe quand." (Come back any time)

"Suffira." both partners said in unison.

Lisa smiled and the couple turned to Cynthia, who handed them a receipt that gave the proof of their stay. Lisa turned to face the lobby and scanned the room, roving over all the activity. Two children ran through the lobby, the little girl chasing her brother who had taken her stuffed horse hostage under his arm, both being forcefully scorned at by their solo mother. Lisa smiled, watching them run. She felt a small pang of want fill her heart, but turned away. Something crystal blue flashed across the corner of her eyes. She spun on her heel, her heart beat quickening immediately. Was it him? Only, she saw nothing.

Stop doing this to yourself Lisa, she mentally ordered, closing her eyes. He's gone remember.

XXXX

It was nearing eight-thirty according to the grandfather clock tucked away in the corner as it struck once when Cynthia found Lisa sprawled across the couch in the lobby. She newly out of college woman smiled to herself, intaking Lisa's appearance. She knew Lisa's constant thoughts of the man that terrorized her life for a few short eyes, full of homicidal anger, kept her awake at night, and nowadays it wasn't uncommon to find her dosing off, as unprofessional as it sounded.

Now she was embedded on the couch, using her arm as a stiff pillow, with her black strap heels hanging over the arms rest and her skirt hiked up a few inches so it displayed part of her leg. Cynthia carefully sat down on the coffee table and titled her head towards Lisa, studying her face. Her make-up was still flawless, as always, and her auburn hair was perfectly intact, but her eyes and complexion shown tire and exhaustion.

Cynthia poked Lisa's shoulder, making her open her eyes. "You look exhausted."

"I am." Lisa confessed, pausing. She clapped her hand to her forehead as she blew out a breath. "The computers froze this morning, two rooms refused to check out, the toilets overflowed in room 485…I just want a hot bath."

"How does a free night sound instead?" Cynthia mentioned, sarcastically straining her neck.

Lisa stared at her. "What?"

"I convinced Mr. Rosenthau to give us the night off. I thought we could go get something to eat."

"Perfect." Lisa exclaimed enthusiastically. "Where at?"

Cynthia shrugged. "Riley's?"

"No, we go there all the time." Lisa declined, turning down her favorite burger joint. "What about that new place down the street? What's it called, the French place?"

"Chateau Bon's?" Cynthia guessed.

Lisa jumped. "That's it!"

Cynthia shrugged again. "Okay, I'm game for something new."

XXXX

They reached Chateau Bon's in twenty minutes and were seated within thirty-five. The restaurant, though a quiet one on any weeknight, was bustling and loud with the room's chatter. Lisa and Cynthia were seated in the middle of one of the larger rooms, stationed next to the grand stairs leading up to the restrooms, tucked between two columns. The atmosphere was pleasant and quite friendly, contoured with the foreign vivaciousness.

Cynthia squealed in delight when their waiter left, shrieking about how handsome the tall, brunette, brawn man with a brilliant smile was. Lisa smiled and giggled at her friend's excitement. Not a moment later she felt a pang of emptiness strike her heart. She'd once been that way, internally screaming with joy…when she met Jackson. It had been a long time since she saw him, but she still couldn't help the smile that graced her lips when she thought of him. Was it wrong to react that way, especially to a man that tried to kill her and her father?

The women ordered their drinks, each taking an alcohol of choice. Lisa noticed that the waiter lingered in their presence, his twinkling eyes set on Cynthia. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to the ladies room. Be right back."

She looked to Cynthia for acknowledgement, but she was too wrapped in her gazing at the waiter to notice. Lisa shook her head and hid her purse in her chair under the table before trotting up the stairs. She hesitated, confused at where to go, but saw a woman appear from the door to the right and followed from the place she had retreated from. The restroom, a smaller area with the basic necessities, merely included three stalls and two sinks and could barely fit ten people inside. Lisa was glad the place was empty.

She went immediately to the sink, turning on the old faucet. Cold water spurted out. She dipped her hands under the coolness and winced at the pain the water brought. She heard a stall door open behind her as she was cleansing her delicate hands with soap, but paid little attention to it; she'd made a mistake, nothing minor. She didn't even look up to look at the face of the woman; she didn't bother with what she should have done.

She heard their steps as they neared closer to her and a sudden thought of this woman's actions crossed her mind, but she ignored them. She shouldn't have.

"I may have to steal you." the person whispered in her ear.

Lisa froze, her body going rigid. She gulped and slowly turned around. That voice had been all too familiar, and no one else knew that line except for her and…Jackson. Her eyes widened slightly when she came face to face with Jackson Rippner, the unique man she fell for in seat 18G. His pretty crystal-blue eyes bore into hers.

"Jackson." Lisa stated simply, bracing herself on the sink now behind her.

"Long time no see Lisa. You know, I was in the hospital for five months. I have to admit, I was quite hurt when you didn't come visit me." Jackson said, transforming into the sensible, friendly man he was.

Lisa got out of his way and slowly circled him, watching him as he turned with her, keeping his eyes locked on hers. "You don't scare me anymore. So don't expect any more crying."

"Fair enough. Besides, all that crying you did made me very uncomfortable. I can't stand crying women." Jackson said, offering her a smile.

Lisa stopped and stared at him, looking him up and down. He looked the same: captivating blue eyes, sandy hair that fell across his eyes, a ghost smile, and a sharp dresser. Tonight he was merely in dress pants, a jacket and a Ramones shirt, but Lisa had to admit he looked good. "You heal nice, for someone who got stabbed in the throat with a Frankenstein pen."

"Yep. That still hurts some time, you know. It reminds me of you. How have you been Lisa? Still the same?"

"You don't get to ask questions, Jackson. I don't have to tell you anything."

Jackson inched forward, pushing Lisa back against the wall, until she was pinned right in between his body and the peeling wall. She'd promised herself she'd never let herself be put into this situation again, but that all washed away with Jackson. He was dominant in whatever he did. Jackson titled his head and lightly brushed a strand of Lisa's hair behind her ear. She didn't even flinch. "Just dropped by to say hi. The company's put me on another assignment in the Vatican City, but let's not talk about our work, huh?"

"So they forgave you, huh? So they forgave you for the one job you failed up, huh?" Lisa spat bitterly, glaring at him, rivaling his sinister look. She pushed him back with her lower body, so he was a good foot from her and she could breathe. "They told me you were dead."

"Sorry to disappoint." He paused. "Tell me something. How did it feel when you jabbed that pen in my throat, or when you shot me? Did you feel satisfied? Relieved? Tell me, Lisa!"

Lisa smirked. She was going to keep her mouth shut, no matter what. "No. I'm not telling you anything. Not unless you tell me first. A secret for a secret."

Jackson stared at her, considering her offer for a moment with much thriving thought. Then, without warning, he thrust his body forward, slamming Lisa back against the wall so he was only a few inches from her face. He smiled to himself when she saw she didn't show any sign of weakness; she learned quick. "You see what you do to me, Lisa. I'm not even supposed to be here. You've been marked forbidden territory for me. My company thinks I want revenge and will go to any length for it, but they don't know…"

His words stung her ears. A small flicker of fear began to rise in her body, but she didn't show this to him. "Do you want revenge, Jackson? On me?"

Jackson didn't answer her, but gazed deep into her eyes. He set his jaw, but didn't respond. Could he really tell her everything she did to him? His hand roamed down her body, trailing a finger down towards her breast. His eyes followed his fingers. Lisa already knew and she fought to keep the tears down. His fingers gently pushed the material of her blouse away and revealed the red, jagged scar above her right breast.

Jackson bit his lip. "Who did this to you?" His ice eyes traveled up to hers. "Tell me; I'll go after them."

Lisa smiled. "That isn't necessary."

"But I will. They deserve to be dead, whoever scarred you."

"Some people say it adds humanity, that it adds imperfection to a model of everything perfect. I'm not perfect, Jackson." Lisa said, his name coming out as more of a simple mouthing of the word. Her voice didn't even allow his name to be vocalized.

Jackson reached up and stroked Lisa's cheek. "I'm here risking everything. Just for you. I used to be a man that did what he was supposed to, but then you come waltzing into my life and cause me to fail. I want to hate you, yet all I do is miss you and have thought of nothing except for you for the past six months. I even refused to take the job of revenge against you when it was handed to me. Watch you're back; they're coming. I can protect you."

"Jackson—"

"Lisa…don't…"

Lisa stared at him, her posture faltering under his wasted weight. Her nose stung as tears welled in her eyes, a lump forming. She breathed in, forcing herself not to break down. Not here, not now. She stared up at the ceiling, not even able to look at him as she said her next confession.

"I wasn't satisfied when I thought I killed you. I was far from it. I was happy for a brief second, but then something else happened." She looked at him. "I thought I killed you, Jackson, and that made me want to cry. Because, contrary to your belief or whatever, I fell for you. Even though you tried to kill me, I still loved you. It was Jackson I loved, Jack I didn't."

Jackson didn't have words for this. He didn't expect it, truthfully, so he just stared at her, watching as she faltered again under his eyes, obviously uncomfortable. He licked his lips, eyes momentarily settling on her lips, and clamped his hand on the back of her neck. He brought her lips down on his, favoring the taste of her warm lips. The kiss was brief, nearly a feathery kiss that neither were given time to really respond to, but its what they needed. Jackson pulled back first and gazed at Lisa with those piercing eyes that made Lisa inadvertently melt.

Lisa's eyes fluttered down to her hands then rippled back up to Jackson, who was waiting for a reaction. "I have to go." she whispered, her voice breaking.

She slipped past Jackson and strode to the door, hand gripping the brass doorknob. She glanced over her shoulder at Jackson. "Save you a seat." he said, cracking a smile.

She smiled for him, giving a final wave, before vanishing out the door. She wiped the tears that rimmed her eyes as she stumbled back to the table. She collapsed in the chair opposite Cynthia and smiled at her friend. Cynthia, unfortunately, wasn't convinced. She reached across the table and placed her hand on hers. Lisa looked up and smiled.

"Are you alright?" Cynthia asked cautiously, eyeing the woman.

Lisa smiled and nodded. Suddenly the waiter appeared and put a tall glass of Bay Breeze in front of Lisa, flashing a smile. Lisa looked at him, puzzled. "What's this?"

"I thought you don't drink Bay Breeze's anymore?" Cynthia questioned.

"I don't." Lisa stated quickly. "I didn't order this."

"No ma'am. This is compliments of the gentleman there." The waiter pointed across the room.

Lisa turned around as Cynthia looked over her head. There stood Jackson, hands stuffed in his pockets, staring at Lisa. He smiled just before a group passed in front of him, then—when they were past—he was gone. Disappeared, with the wind. Lisa blinked and looked around wildly. Lisa's lip trembled and she looked at the white tablecloth. She picked up the glass and took a sip, relishing the taste of a much forgotten sweet taste. Her eyes caught a note written on the napkin the drink came with. Her eyes watered at it.

I liked you, Leese.

XXXX

FIN