When he came toward her, when he began interrogating her, at first all she felt was rage. Was this his idea of a mind game? Was this what it had come down to? So much for the logic he had been toting so proudly once - where had she gotten drugs to give him, and to what end? Her second instinct was to back into the wall, away from him. The fury in his expression was apparent and it was worse than she'd ever seen.
"I didn't give you anything, what are you playing at? Why did you bring me here? I want to go home!" She clutched a hand over her mouth, knees shaking and buckling together, barely supporting her as she leaned back against the wall. "I feel sick," the comment was quieter than her previous assertion, but she regained her voice soon, hand dropping away as she accused. "What are you planning? Please. Whatever you brought me here for, just let me go."
And where were all of those people who had offered such help and demanded to know the situation now? Cynical, she acknowledged, but realistic. They weren't here. When it mattered, when it was down to the wire, it was her against Jackson and she had to win.
"You know Lis'-" Jackson didn't pause as she spoke, didn't take time to consider her response. Whatever she was pulling he knew he hadn't brought her here, and if she wanted to play mind games then she would learn just what happened when you lost. "-I'm getting really sick and tired of the constant lying. I think you need to lear-"
He had his hand at her throat in a matter of seconds and suddenly all the discomfort, the pain in his head and gut, was gone. He stared at her a moment, letting go only for the feeling to return, slowly worsening as the seconds ticked past. He touched her arm testingly then turned away, silent for a moment before something of a laugh, bitter and still laced with rage, escaped his lips.
"Well now, isn't that something." He muttered, willing himself to ignore the sickening feeling even as it began to grate at his control.
No matter how many times she found herself in this position, it continued to terrify her equally. She clenched her eyes shut, and for some reason, as soon as he pressed his hand to her throat, the migraine had dulled - was she distracted by the loss of air flow? No. That didn't make sense. When he touched her arm and the same reaction was replicated, her brows knitted together in distress and she was suddenly glad he had turned away, because she felt a choked sob rising in her throat.
"Oh God..." She shut her eyes tightly, clenched really, and her hand hesitantly reached out, fingers brushing the back side of his shoulder. Relief and horror simultaneously washed over her. The pain, the nausea, both gone, but the cost was being in such close proximity to him. Of all people. She jerked her hand back, trying to ignore the throbbing pain as it hit her like a train the second contact was terminated. "Why?" Her voice was weak - shaking.
Jackson didn't turn when she touched his shoulder, teeth practically grinding. He hadn't felt this enraged in a long while, since Lisa and wasn't it so fitting that she would be in the formula for this little disaster?
"Haven't we had this discussion Lis'? Good people, bad things, you should really listen more so I wouldn't have to repeat myself so often." he answered in a sharp tone, turning to regard her. He fought between reaching out and taking her arm and fighting the impulse on principle itself. He didn't move, not yet, let her take the initiative. Even if his head was beginning to throb he was sure his own will would last longer and that was a fleeting moment of control he wanted (needed) to indulge in.
"How about some eggs?" He said finally, lips quirking mockingly as he watched her, noticing her choice of night clothes for the first time. It wasn't really a surprise and he decided not to point that out and make her more unmanageable. God the discomfort was grating.
About to reach out to make contact, Lisa stopped herself. Her gaze steeled on his eyes, trying to hide any flinch that may have shown itself in her own. It was always difficult to look him in the eye. The mocking tone in his voice made it easier, building up her resolve and her determination - but not her pain tolerance. She buckled, hand resting itself on his arm before she even realized it. She shut her eyes again in quiet frustration with herself, but didn't move it.
"Eggs," there was a mild irritation in her voice, lips pursed, but as she paused and considered the offer. Anything was better than getting back into that bed, at this point, knowing who would be lying in it beside her - even if it meant humoring his stalking habits. "Sure. Since we're up." The collective 'we' made her stomach churn even though she still had her hand on his arm, and she was assured that it had nothing to do with whatever was causing this.
Jackson's lips quirked- her action took some of the edge off both his discomfort and rage. He took her wrist, glancing over at her with his brow raised as though expecting some sort of complaint at the gesture, before leading her to the kitchen.
The apartment itself was fairly small, meticulously neat more so due to the time spent away from it rather than his own cleanliness. He made a mental note to move anything incriminating- work related items, the handful of personal effects he may have kept around - out of her prying grasp. The last thing he needed was her meddling further into his affairs.
He stopped at the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs he barely remembered buying (maybe the community's idea of a sick joke. He would laugh if he weren't part of the punchline.) and turned back to her, holding out the item even as he still held her wrist. "Do your magic Lis'." He said, bemusement making it's way back into his tone and over the aggravation of before. "You are the master here."
Lisa followed him - compliantly, even. She was too distracted by taking in her surroundings to protest. So, this was what the home of a killer looked like. Inwardly, she had to laugh - the same could be say for hers now, couldn't it? She picked out the few stray items laying around and filed them away in her mind before he could get the chance to put up whatever guard he put up around her. Curiosity's sake.
Once in the kitchen area, she grudgingly accepted the carton, tightening her lips into a firm line with disapproval at his mocking attitude - and the grip he had on her wrist. "I need a frying pan," she informed, "and that." She looked pointedly at the hand he had a firm grip on. Her attempts to disguise the fact that her main interest in getting his hand away from her wrist was the speed of her pulse - racing from the strain the effort to remain calm was putting on her heart and blood pressure.
"Are we even in Miami?" Her tone was somewhere between scathing and conversational.
"In the cupboard." Jackson directed, watching her a moment before releasing her wrist with a smile. A shame to lose that fleeting measure of her pulse. "Of course." At least being fairly close made the discomfort better, though only direct touching seemed to cure the feeling altogether. This was truly, truly irritating. All of his work would need to be put on hold.
He glanced back at her, barely registering the question before it managed to click. "Not Miami exactly, but close enough." He raised his brow. "Are you going to try and run off Lis'?" his tone was more curious than mocking, though the latter was there.
The pain was slight - grating - in its reappearance. The muscles in her jaw tightened as she knelt down to get a frying pan, trying to busy herself while she sublimated the overbearing feeling of dread. She was stuck. 'Run off,' he had suggested. Even if she did get away, the idea that it was plausible for her to get far enough away despite the throbbing, burning pain was laughable.
"If by run off you mean go to work, then yes, I have every intention to." And you are not going to stop me no matter how intimidating you try to be, you bastard. As far as Lisa was concerned, the situation was normal - for her, anyway: all fucked up. She turned to get butter from the refrigerator and turned on the stove - only hesitating slightly to figure out its function. It was difficult, ignoring his presence there, but despite the closeness that kept her head from screaming, she did a damn good job of pretending she could do it.
Jackson laughed, leaning against the counter and watching her with vague curiosity, like something that didn't fit quite right in the picture before him. It was a good distraction from the irritating feeling that followed letting go.
"How do you suggest we go about that Lis'?" He asked, leaving the 'we' there pointedly. "This is obviously some sort of 'virus' from that little nexus, and I assume the point is to keep together. Unless you plan on letting me follow- if I wanted to- I'm sure this phenomena would just bring us back together." There may have been a hint of bitterness behind that amusement. He had work as well.
"But by all means Lis', come up with a brilliant plan. Prove me wrong." And the mocking returned as he shrugged, pausing at the question with a quirked brow. "Still sore about before? You can hardly blame me, you did invade my home." And look what she had done when those roles were reversed.
For a moment, the problems he pointed out had left her at a loss. She highly doubted that Take Your Stalker To Work Day had made it through HR, and letting her assistant assume whatever she would get in her head when Jackson went into her office with her again wasn't high on her list of priorities. She didn't mention that one, though. The idea of even thinking of the two of them as a single unit warranted an involuntary grimace.
"I did not invade your home by choice," a pointed glare that clearly challenged whether he could say as much when the situation was reversed, "and I am not staying here with you." She wasn't sure where they were going if work was not an option, nor was she sure of which was worse: being stuck in Jackson's home, or being stuck with him. Going out in public attached to him didn't sound like an excellent choice either, but it was the better alternative of the two.
"Do you want any?" She gestured to the frying pan, into which she was now cracking eggs, with more force than was probably necessary. Personally, Lisa was a little surprised that she hadn't cracked on in her hand from the sheer tense force of her grip. It spoke monumentally to her self-control.
"But you did invade it." Jackson answered simply, watching her carefully now, the curiosity more a caution. Would she see this as an opportunity? Stab him again in his sleep? Well, she claimed she was above such things but the tense look of her actions and shoulders certainly left one to wonder what straw would break the camel's back.
"You know I have work as well. This is as much an inconvenience to me as it is you." He commented in an almost joking sort of way, to get under her skin, though face blanking in thought for a moment. Incredibly dangerous really, if the wrong person saw them together- well, wouldn't that be the definition of inconvenience.
He glanced over, regarding her seriously as he tried to piece together the best course of action. He stood close enough so their legs would brush, relieving the feeling. He nearly fell into that frustrated anger again. "At the moment staying here is the only thing that's keeping us both fairly safe Lis'." he offered a smile. "I'd love some."
Once all of the eggs were broken and in the frying pan, she grabbed a spatula and set it on the countertop beside the stove with a rather emphasized slam. She then turned and took a small, wary step closer to Jackson, trying to look between determined and threatening.
"I am going to work. I am going to go about as if things are perfectly normal and you are just going to have to... get over it! I am done letting you affect my life." It was becoming more and more noticeable how she was coming apart at the seams, and her rant had been a perfect example of such. She bit her lip and backed up some, picking the spatula back up to continue making the eggs, grabbing the pepper shaker and adding some to the runny mix.
Jackson humored her with a lifted brow, solemn despite the amusement behind his glance. "There's that emotion based dilemmia of yours again. I'm not affecting your life, the community is affecting our lives, and this cute little denial of yours won't do any good."
He leaned over as if trying to keep the conversation a secret. "And let's say I went to work with you, which wouldn't be 'perfectly normal' to begin with. What if one of your police watch came around and recognized me? Or maybe dear Cynthia would catch on? Either way it would force my hand, now wouldn't it? And we both know you wouldn't want that."
"No one," she said in a shaky voice, uncomfortable from the closeness but knowing full and well that it would be more uncomfortable to pull away, "No one is forcing your hand. No one is forcing you to do anything. You can't keep using that as an... excuse to threaten me or do terrible things." Lisa asserted, trying to ignore the discomfort and focus instead on her frustrated, jerky movements as she continued scrambling the eggs. She had already decided that she would be calling in - Annie didn't need encouraging - but it didn't hurt to assert her authority when she had the opportunity. If she wanted to, they would be going to her work. It wasn't his choice.
"It's not an excuse, it's a logical chain of events." Jackson answered, still close and only because he chose so, not because of the virus. Part of him needed that idea. "Just like how you were forced to kill good old Jim. It's cause and effect."
"Why do you insist on things being 'normal' Lis'? Afraid of change?" He asked nonchalantly, glancing over to the eggs and raising a brow at how domestic she could be in her little habits. Adorable, really, in an almost sad way.
"I didn't give you anything, what are you playing at? Why did you bring me here? I want to go home!" She clutched a hand over her mouth, knees shaking and buckling together, barely supporting her as she leaned back against the wall. "I feel sick," the comment was quieter than her previous assertion, but she regained her voice soon, hand dropping away as she accused. "What are you planning? Please. Whatever you brought me here for, just let me go."
And where were all of those people who had offered such help and demanded to know the situation now? Cynical, she acknowledged, but realistic. They weren't here. When it mattered, when it was down to the wire, it was her against Jackson and she had to win.
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He had his hand at her throat in a matter of seconds and suddenly all the discomfort, the pain in his head and gut, was gone. He stared at her a moment, letting go only for the feeling to return, slowly worsening as the seconds ticked past. He touched her arm testingly then turned away, silent for a moment before something of a laugh, bitter and still laced with rage, escaped his lips.
"Well now, isn't that something." He muttered, willing himself to ignore the sickening feeling even as it began to grate at his control.
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"Oh God..." She shut her eyes tightly, clenched really, and her hand hesitantly reached out, fingers brushing the back side of his shoulder. Relief and horror simultaneously washed over her. The pain, the nausea, both gone, but the cost was being in such close proximity to him. Of all people. She jerked her hand back, trying to ignore the throbbing pain as it hit her like a train the second contact was terminated. "Why?" Her voice was weak - shaking.
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"Haven't we had this discussion Lis'? Good people, bad things, you should really listen more so I wouldn't have to repeat myself so often." he answered in a sharp tone, turning to regard her. He fought between reaching out and taking her arm and fighting the impulse on principle itself. He didn't move, not yet, let her take the initiative. Even if his head was beginning to throb he was sure his own will would last longer and that was a fleeting moment of control he wanted (needed) to indulge in.
"How about some eggs?" He said finally, lips quirking mockingly as he watched her, noticing her choice of night clothes for the first time. It wasn't really a surprise and he decided not to point that out and make her more unmanageable. God the discomfort was grating.
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"Eggs," there was a mild irritation in her voice, lips pursed, but as she paused and considered the offer. Anything was better than getting back into that bed, at this point, knowing who would be lying in it beside her - even if it meant humoring his stalking habits. "Sure. Since we're up." The collective 'we' made her stomach churn even though she still had her hand on his arm, and she was assured that it had nothing to do with whatever was causing this.
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The apartment itself was fairly small, meticulously neat more so due to the time spent away from it rather than his own cleanliness. He made a mental note to move anything incriminating- work related items, the handful of personal effects he may have kept around - out of her prying grasp. The last thing he needed was her meddling further into his affairs.
He stopped at the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs he barely remembered buying (maybe the community's idea of a sick joke. He would laugh if he weren't part of the punchline.) and turned back to her, holding out the item even as he still held her wrist. "Do your magic Lis'." He said, bemusement making it's way back into his tone and over the aggravation of before. "You are the master here."
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Once in the kitchen area, she grudgingly accepted the carton, tightening her lips into a firm line with disapproval at his mocking attitude - and the grip he had on her wrist. "I need a frying pan," she informed, "and that." She looked pointedly at the hand he had a firm grip on. Her attempts to disguise the fact that her main interest in getting his hand away from her wrist was the speed of her pulse - racing from the strain the effort to remain calm was putting on her heart and blood pressure.
"Are we even in Miami?" Her tone was somewhere between scathing and conversational.
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He glanced back at her, barely registering the question before it managed to click. "Not Miami exactly, but close enough." He raised his brow. "Are you going to try and run off Lis'?" his tone was more curious than mocking, though the latter was there.
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"If by run off you mean go to work, then yes, I have every intention to." And you are not going to stop me no matter how intimidating you try to be, you bastard. As far as Lisa was concerned, the situation was normal - for her, anyway: all fucked up. She turned to get butter from the refrigerator and turned on the stove - only hesitating slightly to figure out its function. It was difficult, ignoring his presence there, but despite the closeness that kept her head from screaming, she did a damn good job of pretending she could do it.
"Are you this friendly to all of your guests?"
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"How do you suggest we go about that Lis'?" He asked, leaving the 'we' there pointedly. "This is obviously some sort of 'virus' from that little nexus, and I assume the point is to keep together. Unless you plan on letting me follow- if I wanted to- I'm sure this phenomena would just bring us back together." There may have been a hint of bitterness behind that amusement. He had work as well.
"But by all means Lis', come up with a brilliant plan. Prove me wrong." And the mocking returned as he shrugged, pausing at the question with a quirked brow. "Still sore about before? You can hardly blame me, you did invade my home." And look what she had done when those roles were reversed.
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"I did not invade your home by choice," a pointed glare that clearly challenged whether he could say as much when the situation was reversed, "and I am not staying here with you." She wasn't sure where they were going if work was not an option, nor was she sure of which was worse: being stuck in Jackson's home, or being stuck with him. Going out in public attached to him didn't sound like an excellent choice either, but it was the better alternative of the two.
"Do you want any?" She gestured to the frying pan, into which she was now cracking eggs, with more force than was probably necessary. Personally, Lisa was a little surprised that she hadn't cracked on in her hand from the sheer tense force of her grip. It spoke monumentally to her self-control.
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"You know I have work as well. This is as much an inconvenience to me as it is you." He commented in an almost joking sort of way, to get under her skin, though face blanking in thought for a moment. Incredibly dangerous really, if the wrong person saw them together- well, wouldn't that be the definition of inconvenience.
He glanced over, regarding her seriously as he tried to piece together the best course of action. He stood close enough so their legs would brush, relieving the feeling. He nearly fell into that frustrated anger again. "At the moment staying here is the only thing that's keeping us both fairly safe Lis'." he offered a smile. "I'd love some."
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"I am going to work. I am going to go about as if things are perfectly normal and you are just going to have to... get over it! I am done letting you affect my life." It was becoming more and more noticeable how she was coming apart at the seams, and her rant had been a perfect example of such. She bit her lip and backed up some, picking the spatula back up to continue making the eggs, grabbing the pepper shaker and adding some to the runny mix.
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He leaned over as if trying to keep the conversation a secret. "And let's say I went to work with you, which wouldn't be 'perfectly normal' to begin with. What if one of your police watch came around and recognized me? Or maybe dear Cynthia would catch on? Either way it would force my hand, now wouldn't it? And we both know you wouldn't want that."
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"Why do you insist on things being 'normal' Lis'? Afraid of change?" He asked nonchalantly, glancing over to the eggs and raising a brow at how domestic she could be in her little habits. Adorable, really, in an almost sad way.
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