So sorry for the delay everyone!!! No matter how much time passes, I WILL finish this story, don't worry. Hang in there with me. I have a bit of a break from teaching my classes and I'm trying to relax more and concentrate on my writing.

I hope your patience is rewarded and you like what you read. --- Teresa

Chapter VII: Lisa's Shock

Jackson's eyes flew open and he sat up in his bed. Something was wrong; he felt it. Why had he fallen asleep so quickly? He looked at the clock He hadn't been out for long, but it was long enough. He felt dazed and groggy and immediately took a look into Lisa's room. She was nowhere to be seen, and he wasn't fooled by the pillows in the bed for a minute. He smirked, thinking that she still had a few things to learn.

Suddenly and instinctively, he knew what had happened. He berated himself for being so stupid. One of the foremost rules in his training had been to watch what he ate and drank. Never, ever take a drink if in doubt about its contents. She had drugged him; that much was clear. He had been careless, foolish, and emotional. She had tricked him, and a part of him felt betrayed. The other part of him felt as if he didn't have a right to feel that way, considering the situation and his treatment of her. Even though it couldn't have been helped, he did feel responsible.

It took him only a few seconds to figure out where she had gone and who she had been calling at the pay phone. It was so elementary that he couldn't believe he didn't think of it before; she was here to find out about his past, and that's what she was doing. He led her into this, and he had underestimated her once again. He thought it might take her weeks to find his mother, but he was wrong.

He pulled himself off the bed and despite feeling annoyed with her, he felt relaxed. Xanax, he thought. She always carried it with her since… since his attack.

He forced himself to get with it and fumbled for his car keys. It took him a few moments to clear his head and then he made his way to his car.

Lisa was a bit surprised by the woman who opened the door to the small house she had found. It was a nice neighborhood, normal in every way. She could see nothing different or unique about it; even the house looked normal.

The woman, in her late 50s, Lisa judged, was of medium height and build. She had dark hair and full lips – and those icy eyes she had come to know so well: Jackson's eyes.

"Mrs. Rippner?" Lisa asked

"Yes, Lisa?" the women inquired.

Lisa smiled, relieved, and comforted by the woman. She instinctively knew that this woman could be trusted and there wasn't any danger here.

A few minutes later, they were settled in the living room. Mrs. Rippner, or as she had instructed Lisa to call her, Susan, was fetching beverages in the kitchen and Lisa was left in the room to look around. Susan. Such an ordinary name. An ordinary house, with pictures on the wall, which Lisa now examined.

A young Jackson, smiling for the camera. But only with his mother – no father in sight. Then Lisa caught sight of a triangular object displayed in a glass case. A flag. And above that, a picture of a smiling young man, the very image of Jackson, but without his eyes. He was dressed in uniform.

Jackson had lost his father in the Vietnam War. He must have never even known him.

Susan walked into the room with a can of Coke and one of Sprite, with two glasses. She handed the Sprite and a glass to Lisa.

"Thanks," Lisa told her, accepting the drink and the glass. She opened her can and poured the liquid into the glass, sipping it slowly. She was so nervous that she didn't think she could get it down.

They began the small talk. Susan waited, knowing that Lisa was there for a reason. Lisa could see that in her eyes, could see the shrewdness and patience. She would wait for Lisa to start.

Lisa composed herself quickly and cleared her throat. She sat opposite Susan, who was on the couch.

"I haven't seen Jackson in a long time," Lisa began, feeling dishonest, but finding it very easy to lie. "I don't know where to start."

Susan sipped her own drink. "Join the club," she laughed lightly. "I don't get to see him too much, but he does make it home for the holidays."

"How do you know Jackson?" she asked Lisa. "Did you go to school with him?" She was a pleasant woman, adept with people and chatting, Lisa could sense. She seemed like the nurturing type, and was probably a natural when it came to nursing and caring for people.

Lisa tucked her hair behind her right ear. "Yes, as a matter of fact I did go to school with him."

"Where?"

"Where?" Lisa echoed. "Well, at the University of Virginia." She paused, confused. "Why, did he attend another college?"

Susan looked at her. "How long has it been since you saw Jackson?" she asked, gesturing to two large frames over the television set.

Lisa stared at the frames, and couldn't believe she had missed them. She slowly rose from her chair and walked over to them. One was of Jackson, with his mother, in a uniform. He was smiling, happy. He looked so different, like another person. Lisa didn't see the tormented, violent expression that she knew so well. He looked more like the man she had met at the airport, with a genuine smile on his face. The other document was a degree from the FBI. Jackson was an FBI agent.

Lisa drew in a sharp breath, but quietly enough so that Susan wouldn't hear. Was the man she had chatted over with drinks the true Jackson? Was the violent Jackson the act? He was an FBI agent, according to this. She had tried to prepare herself for this visit, but she would have never, not in a million years, have expected this. But why would the FBI…

Lisa turned back to Susan, speechless at first, but she quickly regaining her composure. "Jackson is an FBI agent?"

Susan beamed. "He graduated at the top of his class. That's why I don't see him so much. But he does such good – just like his father did. Both of them have served their country well."

"Jackson's father…" Lisa started.

"Yes, he died in the war, before Jackson was even born. But Jackson was such a happy child in spite of it. He would study pictures of his father for hours and read everything about the Vietnam War."

Lisa sat back down. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to act so surprised. It's just that the Jackson I know.. knew… was so different. He was so reserved, so in control. We were very close."

"Well, those are two of his most prominent traits," Susan replied, smiling warmly. "But it's not in a bad way; Jackson cares about people, but often tries to hide his emotions. Even though he wanted to know everything about his father, he was loathe to ask me. He needed to be in control of the information. "

Susan rose from the couch. "Sorry to cut this short, Lisa, but I must get going if I'm going to be on time for work…" she looked at her watch.

"Oh, of course, I'm so sorry, Susan. I should be on my way." Lisa grabbed her purse.

Susan looked confused. "I thought you wanted Jackson's contact information? It was nice of you to visit and not just get the information over the phone. I haven't meant many of Jackson's friends."

"Yes…" she stammered, reaching for the information Susan handed her. "I'm going to get in touch with him right away." Sooner than she thinks.

Susan smiled. "It was so nice to meet you, Lisa. Actually, Jackson should be visiting soon if you want to arrange a visit."

After their goodbyes and Susan's open invitation to visit in the future, Lisa staggered to her car, exhausted.

Across the street, in his own car, Jackson watched her. He started the engine and knew he'd make it back to her hotel before she did. He knew the area much better.

From the look on her face, she knew more than she had before: how could she not? He grimaced and wondered if he had made the right choice. Did he really want her to know too much, to get too close? Well, there was no going back. He would have to face her. Now.