Voila. Chapter 5. I definitely am more inspired and have less writer's block for this story than I am with the others I'm working on. Two chapter in the same month. That's good for me--trust me. :D So, please enjoy chapter 5. (Oh, and for all you Jackson x Lisa pairing fans out there reading this, I threw in a little something for you all in the beginning of this chapter.) ;)


Chapter Five: Awkward Positions and Failed Escapes

Lisa groaned as sunlight attempted to penetrate through her eyelids. She squeezed them shut even more, snuggling even closer to a hard, yet not uncomfortable substance. She gave a light, contented sigh as she felt herself move up and down in a rhythmic pattern. There was an unknown weight pressing down on her lower back, about right where the boxers started, but she didn't mind. It felt right, and comfortable. She gave a small smile as she squeezed the hand she was holding lightly.

Wait a second.

Lisa's eyes snapped open—wide and awake. She assessed her situation without moving a single muscle.

Slowly, ever so slowly and carefully, she lifted her head and looked up. Her breath caught in her throat when she was met with Jackson's face, only inches away.

She forced herself to calm down and breathe again. It was obviously that he was sleeping—his eyes were closed and he was still breathing rhythmically. His head was turned to the side, so she got a profile of his face. He actually looked quite…peaceful when he was a sleep. He didn't look threatening, or serious.

Okay, so, she had to be extremely cautious so as not to wake up Jackson and alert him that she was awake. No problem…right? Lisa stopped herself from hyperventilating. Now was definitely not the time.

She looked around once she deemed it semi-safe. That hard, yet not uncomfortable substance turned out to be Jackson's black-covered chest, and it turned out that she was strewn all over it, shamelessly. She instantly felt her cheeks go red hot, especially when she looked to her right and saw that her right hand was intertwined with Jackson's left one, both of their wrists connected with handcuffs.

The covers were at her waste, so she could see their hands clearly. She quickly—and carefully, of course—looked around for her other hand, hoping that it wasn't where it shouldn't be. She found it clutching onto Jackson's firm right shoulder.

Lisa also realized that that unknown weight pressing down over her back was his right arm wrapped around her waist, just above her butt. Lisa's breath caught in her throat even more. If it had been just a little bit lower…Lisa repressed a shiver.

Lisa lightly laid her head back down on Jackson's cloth-covered chest—even though he had a T-shirt on, she could still feel his firm and sculpted muscles underneath. It made him seem even more deadly to her. She had to think about this rationally without waking Jackson. No sudden movements were the best thing to go by right now. She was sure that he was probably on the brink of waking up as it was, since she was positive that he was probably a rather light sleeper.

Lisa could have laughed in glee. It came to her! She didn't know why she didn't think of it before—maybe because she was still getting over the shock of it all—but she came up with the perfect—at least it seemed that way to her at the time—plan to get away.

She hesitantly—and gently—removed her left hand from Jackson's shoulder and slowly moved it through the air, so that she didn't touch him anywhere and disturb his sleep accidentally. She lightly set it down when she reached his waist and felt the end of his T-shirt and the fabric of his boxers.

Lisa squeezed her eyes together tightly. She couldn't believe that she was about to do this. She slowly moved her hand down the side of his boxers, into his pocket, and felt around for the key to their handcuffs.

Lisa smiled slightly when she felt the key. She wrapped her fingers around it tightly and began to pull it out of the pocket when she felt Jackson stir underneath her.

Crap, crap, crap, crap, CRAP. She thought in distress as she quickly withdrew her hand from Jackson's pocket and placed it back on his shoulder, stretching herself out even more over Jackson's body, placing her left leg in between his two. She tried to relax so that he wouldn't be able to tell that she was awake. She remembered to breathe finally, although they were shaky breaths. Lisa cursed her lungs. This can't be happening. Please, PLEASE don't wake up Jackson. Don't wake up. DON'T WAKE UP!

Lisa felt the arm around her waist retract. Crap. You woke up. What are you doing, I wonder?

Suddenly, Lisa felt warm fingers brush a strand of hair that had fallen down over her face to the side, out of her face.

Jackson's fingers spent a second or two more at the side of her face, on top of that strand of hair he had pushed out of her face, cupping her cheek, before his fingers moved down tauntingly over her skin before settling at her neck. They cupped the back of her neck. It seemed gentle enough, but that didn't stop Lisa from tensing her entire body is anticipation. He was going to kill her. Of course he was. His hand was right at the back of her neck. Like this she was absolutely defenseless. Panic swept over Lisa quickly.

Jackson squeezed Lisa's right hand a bit. Suddenly, and without warning, Jackson's chest began to shake underneath Lisa.

Was he…laughing?

Jackson's right hand moved down from Lisa's neck and ran down her back, sending tingles up and down Lisa's spine. She was sure that Jackson had felt them. He reached to hem of the shirt that she was wearing—it was so long, it was practically like a mini-dress, reaching only a few inches above the end of the boxers she was wearing—and too hold of the bottom of the shirt. He then started slowly—agonizingly—pulling it up.

If Lisa thought that she had felt panic before, that was nothing compared to what she was feeling now. Her breath caught in her throat. What was he doing?!

Jackson's fingers brushed the skin of Lisa's back as he continued to pull the shirt up. Higher and higher. Maybe he wasn't better than your average criminal—he was still a man, after all. And, as it was turning out, wasn't much better than the average rapist, even if he was being gentle. He was still doing it while he thought she was sleep. That was just so wrong.

Lisa couldn't do anything, though. She was at the complete mercy of Jackson. She had to continue playing asleep. All that she could do was hope with every fiber of her being that he would stop before he reached her bra.

Lisa's shirt was raised just below her bra now. Lisa could have cried. How could he do this? She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream at him to stop and smack him as hard as she could. She tensed every muscle in her body, waiting for the inevitable.

And then, just like that, Jackson stopped, and pulled her shirt back down. His chest was shaking again in what Lisa assumed was laughter. But she didn't care. She was just glad that he had had enough decency to stop.

"Leese," she felt warm breath on her face as she heard his husky voice. Maybe he always sounded husky after just waking up? Lisa hoped against all odds that that was indeed the case.

Lisa inwardly grimaced and her hand tightened around his unconsciously. He knew that she was awake. But, then again, who wouldn't be after that?

"I know that you're awake. Open your eyes."

Even though Lisa hated following Jackson's orders, she opened her eyes anyways, dreading meeting his eyes.

It was then that Lisa realized how close to face really was to Jackson. She hadn't quite noticed it before since his head was turned away from her. But now he was facing her, and she realized that her head was more to the right than directly beneath his head, so she was staring at him now, her head still lying on his chest.

"What are you doing, Leese?" Jackson asked, and he sounded almost…resigned, in a way.

Lisa was taken by surprise. Her eyes widened, but as quickly as the surprise had come, it had vanished and was replaced by anger and frustration, her eyes narrowing.

"Me? What am I doing?" She said angrily, staring up into his crystal blue eyes. Did he know that his eyes were very clear and piercing when he first woke up? "I think the better question is what do you think you're doing?!"

Jackson shrugged and Lisa lifted her head off of his chest to glare at him. "I was just testing you; to see how much you would endure before you decided to stop playing possum and show that you were awake. Considering your past, you can endure quite a bit if it means that the other person won't even know that you're awake." He chuckled with a smirk.

Lisa glared at him even harder and moved her left hand away from his shoulder and down to his chest, using it to push away from him. She soon found out that it was useless, though, because it seemed that his arm had found its way back around her waist, and was locked there, unmovable. Stupid assassin and his stupid strength.

"Let me go." Lisa said through gritted teeth.

"Why in such a rush?" Jackson asked her with a smirk. "I'll have you know that you were the one who moved into this position during your sleep—all by yourself. I have nothing to do with you lying here right now."

Lisa felt her cheeks go red hot. "Oh yeah?" she asked with a glare. "And I suppose it was my fault as well that your arm trapped me to you when I woke up?"

"You were shivering in your sleep. I couldn't very well sleep with you shivering on top of me, so I put my arm around your waist to get you to stop, which you did, so it turns out that it worked." Jackson told her matter-of-factly.

"And why exactly did you allow me to stay in this position then?!" She asked, furious. "You should have pushed me aside roughly, not caring about me."

"You were having a nightmare." Jackson told her. Lisa's face went blank and her mouth hung open a little. "You stopped whimpering when you got into this position, so I didn't push you off."

"I don't remember any nightmare." Lisa told him, shocked.

"Well, I do." Jackson told her. "You kept muttering in your sleep. You kept saying over and over again, 'Get away. Leave me alone. Please, stop, don't.'"

Before Lisa knew what she was doing, she slapped him across the face with her left hand, hard. His head turned to the side and stayed there. She was surprised that he didn't turn back to her in rage and beat her, strangle her, anything. He didn't even stop her slap, even though she knew that he probably could have. He didn't do anything, instead letting her hit him.

She didn't care, though. Unshed tears blurred her vision and she glared at him with all the hatred she could muster, which was quite a lot at the moment.

"Let me go." Lisa muttered menacingly and was heavily relieved when Jackson's arm released her from his hold over her. She rolled over and off of his chest, lying on her side of the bed now. Her hand released Jacksons and she turned her head away from him, tears prickling her eyes and threatening to spill over.

She had been dreaming about that day in the parking lot two years ago, and she hadn't even remembered it. And what's worse was that she knew that Jackson knew exactly what her nightmare was about. Stupid her and her big mouth telling him. Of course, that had been when she had thought that either he was going to kill her or that she would never see him again. And, of course, both of those had been wrong.

"Lisa—"

"We're leaving today, right?" Lisa asked Jackson roughly, cutting him off in what he was about to say.

"Yes, we are." Jackson said calmly from behind her.

"Good," Lisa said shortly.

Lisa sat up and yanked on her right hand, the effect causing Jackson's left hand to be pulled up a little bit into the air. "I want to go to the restroom."

She was surprised when Jackson didn't say anything, didn't protest or ask why or glare or look suspiciously at her or anything. He just sat up, dug out his key, and placed it in the lock, releasing both of their hands.

As soon as Lisa's wrist was free, she jumped up off of the bed and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her and locking it. Lisa let out a breath and rested her forehead against the door, clutching the handle of the door. She quickly spun around until her back was pressed against it and looked around the bathroom.

She had to come up with a plan. She couldn't stay another minute in Jackson's presence. If she did, she knew she wouldn't live long after his job or whatever was completed. Besides, he wouldn't kill her before it was over. He had gone out of his way to kidnap her; he must need her for something, which meant that she was semi-safe, since she'd probably be worthless to him dead—which meant that if she tried to escape and failed, then at least she knew he wouldn't kill her just yet. That wasn't as comforting a thought as she hoped it would be, though.

Lisa looked around hastily. There had to be something she could use as a weapon. She didn't even care if she managed to escape and had to run around barefoot only wearing Jackson's boxers and a shirt way too big for her. One way or another, she would get out of his grasp.

Lisa stared at the mirror. She shouldn't, really she shouldn't. It would hurt her too much, and then it would be useless to try and hurt Jackson because she would be in too much pain. Her plan would undoubtedly fail.

She turned to look at the door. But then again, she didn't really have many options, did she?

Turning back to the mirror, Lisa took a deep breath. This was it. It was now or never.

Lisa scrunched up her face in anticipation of the pain, drew her right arm back, forming a fist with her hand, and then swung her arm forward, smashing it into the mirror with everything that she had. The mirror shattered around her fist, shards flying everywhere, scraping her bare arms and legs and face.

Lisa yelped out in excruciating pain. Biting her lip, tears fell down her cheeks harshly and as powerfully as a waterfall. She looked at the door. He was probably standing right outside, and he was sure to have heard both the shattering of the glass and her yelp.

Lisa wasted no time in falling to the floor on her knees, getting glass embedded into her legs, and searched through the shard with already bloody hands. The knuckles on her right hand were positively atrocious.

"Lisa?" came Jackson's voice from the other side of the door, and Lisa could clearly detect panic and worry in it. "Lisa, what's going on? What happened?"

Lisa didn't answer him as she continued to sort through the shards as quick as she could, as if her life depended on it—which, it probably most likely did.

Ahah!

Lisa held up a large shard—larger than the others that had fallen—and grinned to herself, her own pain forgotten.

"Lisa?!"

Lisa looked up.

"Lisa, I'm coming in."

Since when did Jackson have the courtesy to say stuff like that? Wouldn't he just go straight into the breaking-down-the-door action? Maybe he felt bad for having upset her only moments ago… Wait, what was she thinking? Jackson…feeling bad? Hah, that was a laugh!

Lisa heard a pound on the door and quickly stood up and backed away against the opposite wall. He was trying to break the door down, probably with his foot. She doubted he would inflict damage on himself enough to tackle the door open—not for her, at least.

Another bang.

Lisa hastily looked around her. She had to find a place to hide the shard until the opportune moment when she could strike Jackson with it. But where? Where would the large, pointed shard be concealed enough so that Jackson wouldn't see it and wouldn't see her reaching for it when it was time? She thought about putting it in between her skin and the waistband at the back of the boxers she was wearing, but that would hurt a lot.

She looked around. It seemed like she didn't have any other option. She would have to do that. Besides, she was already in pain and a mess. What were a few scratches on her back gonna do?

Lisa reluctantly lifted her shirt up and placed the shard against the skin of her back, letting the waistband of the boxers secure it there tightly. It dug in a little, but she would live. And at least it would be out of Jackson's sight and safe.

One more bang. Except, this time, the door flew open, attached by only a hinge or two to the frame. Jackson stood there, his hair everywhere, a wild look on his face, a concerned look in his eyes.

Lisa watched his eyes as they widened, viewing the mirror, then the glass on the floor, pooled lightly in blood, and then up to her hands, her left hand cradling her bloodied right one. He looked at the glass embedded in her legs, the scratches and scrapes and cuts all over her exposed flesh. There were even some tears in the clothes she was wearing, signs that the skin hidden behind cloth was cut as well.

Jackson's eyes traveled up to Lisa's watery ones. She had been crying even before she had threw the punch toward the mirror, and the tears were coming so fast and so hard now, yet she wasn't making a single sound, nor did her shoulders shake. But the tears kept on coming. Her face was scrunched up in pain, and she looked like she was going to sob out loud at any second.

"Oh, Leese," Jackson said slowly, concerned, confused how she could do this—to herself, no less. She was a wreck, and not just physically.

Jackson cautiously stepped over the glass, his feet protected by shoes. He walked toward her slowly, making sure that she didn't do anything in her crazed state that either of them were going to regret later.

"Leese, why?"

And Lisa knew that she couldn't do it. She just couldn't. She thought she could before, but now, she just knew that she couldn't. Not after looking at Jackson's face, not after hearing his voice—not after looking into his crystal eyes. He was caring about her. Jackson Rippner was caring about her. He wasn't supposed to be caring or concerned or worried right now, he was supposed to be angry, suspicious that she was planning on hurting him. He should be worrying about himself right now, not her and her pain.

Lisa shook her head at him and she gasped in air loudly. Her left hand flew to her mouth as her shoulders began to shake.

Her head was screaming at her to do it, that he didn't really care about her, he just cared about her health because if she was hurt too badly then she wouldn't be able to help him in his job. He was just an actor—a very, very good actor. He didn't really care. She should do it. Her mind was screaming that it was the only way. She had to do it.

Lisa continued to shake her head at him, her mouth still covered by her hand, her eyes wide. Don't, she plead in her mind, watching Jackson in horror, don't come any closer. Stop. Stop and turn around. Leave. Please…leave. Don't make me do this. Please, please don't make me do this. I don't want to do this. Please, realize what's going to happen and leave.

A loud sob escaped from Lisa's lips and her shoulders shook roughly.

"Leese," Jackson said as he reached her.

"No," her voice cracked as she tried to warn him without telling him. She couldn't do this, even if she had stabbed Jackson in the throat with a pen months ago, she couldn't do this now. Why couldn't she? She didn't even know. Maybe it was because she was seeing a different side of Jackson now. She wasn't seeing menacing, threatening Jackson right now. No, she was seeing caring, concerned, worried Jackson—worrying about her.

"Wha—" Jackson began to say, a confused look on his face. He didn't get the chance to finish.

Lisa's body betrayed her and sided with her mind. She drew the shard quickly from the waistband and flung at Jackson, catching him off guard.

She stabbed the shard in his shoulder, wedging it in deeply before fleeing through the bathroom toward the front door of their motel room. It was too late to go back now. She didn't care as her bare feet ran over the shards of glass.

Lisa reached the front door. Well, crashed into was more correct. She fumbled with the doorknob, but it wouldn't open. Why the freak wouldn't it open? Didn't it know what a hurry she was in? Didn't know that it was pretty much practically the only thing standing in between life and death for her? Why the heck wouldn't the stupid door open?!

Oh. It was locked. Duh! Lisa felt like slapping herself, but she had no time for that. She quickly turned the lock with shaking hands and opened the door. But, unluckily for her, just as she was running out of the open door, a hand grasped her right wrist and yanked her back, the door slamming shut and locking again.

"No!" Lisa screamed.

She was swung around to face one angry looking Jackson. Actually, he was livid. He had pulled the shard out of his shoulder and blood was running down his arm now.

Lisa struggled and pushed against his chest, trying to get away from him. She started pounding against his chest with fists. "Let me go!"

Jackson backhanded her in anger and Lisa fell down onto the hard carpet of the floor with a cry of pain. She looked up at him, looking into his eyes. She glared hatefully at him.

Jackson walked toward her and grabbed her hair, lifting her head off of the floor.

Lisa kicked at his legs and he fell down—right on top of her. Lisa struggled underneath him and tried to get him off of her. "Get off of me!" she shrieked in anger and fury. Jackson pinned her legs with his, not caring about all the glass still embedded in Lisa's legs, and held her arms together above her head with one of his hands. He slapped her across the face with his other hand.

The force of the slap was so strong that her head flew sharply to the side, a pain spreading throughout her neck.

Lisa turned to look at him resentfully and spit at his face.

Jackson's right hand which was holding down her hands squeezed tightly, his nails digging into the flesh of Lisa's wrists. She yelped in pain. Jacksons' left hand came up and wiped the spit away from his face, glaring at her heavily.

"What's the matter, Jack?" Lisa asked, her voice taunting, her face expressing her anger and hatred for the man above her. "Didn't see that one coming?"

"You really just don't know when to give up, do you?" Jackson growled at her.

"So sorry I can't be as submissive as your other hostages. I'll keep that in mind the next time I give a care." Lisa said through gritted teeth, still wiggling her body underneath him and trying to get away.

"Why did you do that?!" demanded Jackson harshly.

"Do what?" Lisa asked, feigning innocence.

"You know what." Jackson said sneering.

Lisa glared. "I am not going to be used again, Jack." She said. She then gave a cold chuckle and smirked. "You should have seen your face. It was pathetic. Tell me, Jackson, since when do you care what happens to me? You wouldn't bat an eye if I had killed myself in there."

"You don't know anything." Jackson told her.

"Oh, don't I?" Lisa asked sarcastically. "Please, then, enlighten me, Jackson. What don't I know? That you're a cold-hearted mercenary without an ounce of kindness or mercy or humanity in your entire body? I think I already know that."

Jackson slapped her again, and Lisa bit down hard on her cheek, drawing blood. Her eyes were getting blurry, whether from the tears that were still in her eyes or not, she wasn't sure.

"Why can't you just give up already?!" shouted Jackson, frustrated.

"Why can't you?" Lisa countered. She turned to look at him once more. "Besides, if I gave in just like that, then where would the fun be?"

"You're twisted."

Lisa smirked. "I guess you're beginning to rub off on me then. Because you're the most twisted man I have ever met and will ever meet. Before you know it, you'll have rubbed off on me so much, I'll be killing people left and right, just for the fun of it."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Jackson said. "I know you enough to know that you would never do that, ever."

Lisa laughed humorlessly. "Please," she said, "just because I don't know every single thing about your life like you do mine, it doesn't mean that I don't know you—even if just a little bit. I think you'd be scared to see me like that. I think you'd be terrified if I became like you."

"And I think that you need to go to sleep for a little while." Jackson said, his left hand moving toward her neck.

"Don't you dare," Lisa growled. She brought her head up quickly and head-butted Jackson. It got the desired effect. Jackson rolled off of her, holding his head in his hands.

Lisa stumbled while getting up, and half-ran, half-limped over toward the door, unlocking it and turning the knob.

Before she could get it open, though, she was falling down flat on her face. She felt weight on her back, and realized that Jackson was on top of her, pinning her to the ground again, except she had flipped in her position. Lisa growled.

"Next time I find a gun, you had better watch yourself, Jackson."

And then her world went dark again. Really, all these forced blackouts were bound to put some trauma on her brain. And if that happened, Jackson was so dead, no matter how concerned or worried he looked, or how caring he seemed. Lisa vowed never again to fall for Jackson's acting just as the last stream of light filtered through her vision. Stupid charming, good-looking, convincing assassins and assassin managers.


Yeah, so, I'll honestly admit that I am utter rubbish at writing fight scenes, no matter what they're for--this story is no exception. I personally think that the "fight" scene(s) suck, but I hope that you don't find them horribly terrible. :( I'm trying my best here. I hope you liked this chappie. Um...I definitely think that I went OOC for either Jackson or Lisa, possibly both. I hope you don't mind, though. I AM trying to do in character to the best of my ability, but it's not entirely easy when I want to put a bunch of stuff in there that they probably wouldn't actually do or act like.

Please review and LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! I really want to know what you guys think of the story so far and this chapter, and if you have any guesses about what is going to happen or suggestions you wanna give, then I'd be happy to hear those as well.

Reviews = Love