Chapter 65

"I'm sorry." I rested my hand over his. "We already talked about it."

The curtains were drawn for the night, leaving the lamp and muted TV screen as the only source of light. It illuminated the aggravation in his gaze. "Yeah, and I didn't agree with it."

"Luke," I scoffed with exhaust. "We've been through this already, I'm sorry. This needs to get done; I'm not going to let your brother and Jackson work nonstop. I'm going."

Luke was not a happy patient. I couldn't blame him. Out of everyone, he was the most worried, the most desperate to find the headquarters. Now, not only was he down for the count. There was more at risk, including my life, if we continue our search. Suddenly, locating the organization wasn't as important. Especially when we decided on a new course of action.

Honestly, it sounded safe enough in my mind. When we all met to figure it out, we agreed the best way to go about this would be to search only at night. Jackson claimed after dark, Reid's men were either sleeping or indulging themselves in different vices. Of course, we couldn't know for sure, so none of us would ever search alone either.

I thought that was fair. It was dangerous, but this job needed to be done. Luke was not pleased. He did not want me going up to that land at all; it was 'too risky' for my sake. Not to mention, he really did not like how soon we wanted to launch our new plan of action. Luke was persistent that Reid's men would be ready, watching their backs and knowing we were close. Hell, he was paranoid they would find us here in the hospital. So, Luke wanted us to lay low for a week or so. His wishes lasted two days. We were starting tonight – including me, against his judgement.

Prepared for tonight's search, I slept in the chair beside Luke's bed from four in the afternoon to nine at night. The FBI wouldn't help; we had a meeting about it yesterday with Agent Tate. She didn't budge, and the terms remained the same. Therefore, sitting around and waiting for Mr. Superhero's leg to heal wasn't the answer. We had a month left. Francis and Jackson couldn't be the only ones doing this, especially since we agreed no searching alone. They would be working every night if I didn't help.

Jackson would be here soon enough, picking me up on the way to the land. Venturing through the woods with that asshole was going to be tense and awkward, but I was ready to contribute to our goal. For the first time in two days since he was shot, I was in a good motivated mood. It was time to step up and I was happy to do it.

Yet, Luke hated, loathed, what was about to happen. He fought me on it since it was decided, trying to reason with me. He wanted to hold off the search for a week and keep me out of it. Neither worked. It only made him more restless, angry, and stressed. With dick face on his way, Luke could hardly contain his building frustration.

"Do you know how sickening this is for me? To lay in a fucking bed? We have a job to do and here I am, useless." Licking his lips, his jaw locked and he inhaled a sharp breath. He turned his head away from me. "It makes me sick being here. Now, I... I am completely disgusted. Not only will I be in a damn bed, you will be up in the mountains, all night, with killers right on top of you!"

The bed was propped up and him with it. Leaning forward in my chair beside his bed, I cupped his avoiding cheek. I tilted his head towards me. "What can I tell you that will help?"

His eyes in mine were tired. "Tell me you will listen. Stay out of it."

"It's my problem," I whispered. "I want to do this."

"Then can you at least wait a week?"

Jeez, the man was relentless. Yet, I could not blame him. I chuckled, sliding from my seat to the edge of his bed. Propped by a hand, my other stroked his cheek. "What would doing nothing for a week accomplish?"

"It would keep you from being caught and not give me a heart attack! They are aware we are here and will be on guard. Doing this at night may not be good enough, Albany."

"Even if it's not, I'm sorry. It's not worth the risk of failing."

"Why are you so stubborn?" he mumbled through tight teeth, looking down.

Words reminding me of what he said a few days ago, I tried alleviating his distress. "Because I hoped being stubborn would make you mention marriage again," I winked, leaning forward and kissing his forehead. "If we blow off a week, do you know what could happen?"

He sighed in defeat. "What? We go to prison?"

"Worse. You are sent to the slammer on crutches. A pretty boy like you, unable to run away... Five minutes in, your ass will be raped."

Raising a brow, a hint of amusement crossed his face. "I would be everyone's bitch."

"Exactly. And I would be a terrible girlfriend if I allowed my boyfriend to be violated because he couldn't limp away in time," I said, searching his face with all my love for him. Dropping my contact from his cheek, my hand found his, fingers twining together.

He rubbed his free hand along my side. "I would prefer to not be raped."

"As long as we stay out of prison, you won't." I smirked, happy I could lift his mood a least a little. It was all I could really do. "Once you're out of the hospital and back home, it might be another story."

"Well then, I can't wait to get home to my beautiful rapist." Sliding me close, he now comfortably stroked my hair against the back of my head. The brief sweetness in his face faded, the common distress returned. "Be careful tonight, you hear me?"

Surprise. We were already back to his livid anxiousness. "I will be. Please try not to worry," I sighed, squeezing his palm.

Unfortunately, he would worry. It was proven when Jackson stepped into the room, signaling it was time to leave. He stood at the end of the bed, arms crossed. Luke sat up straighter, the skin on his face immediately tighter with tension. His lips curved in a sickly manner when he looked away from us. It was a hard sight I would have to leave, but I knew I had to.

Jackson's presence would have been overwhelming if my guilt wasn't greater. But Luke said his piece several times, I've said mine. However, as I stood and slipped on my sleek grey coat, there was one more thing up Luke's protective sleeve.

On edge, Luke's dark gaze shot up to Jackson. Reaching up, he clasped the back of his neck with both hands. "When you drive her home afterwards, I want you to stay and sleep at the house with her."

I nearly laughed. Luke now had an issue with literally everything we talked about. Including my living arrangements while he was in the hospital. "Francis will already be staying with me." Zipping up the coat, I rested my hands against my hips. "I will not live under the same roof with that piece of shit too," I said, glancing to Jackson. There was no way in hell. No way I could handle that. Being in the same room with him rattled me enough. If Luke thinks—

"Just for tonight," Luke said louder, looking between the two of us before stopping on me. "Tonight only, okay? You won't consider anything I say, allow my nerves an ounce of relief. Jackson can protect you better than Francis. And Francis won't always be there the whole night, watching out for you because he will be doing searches too."

Since Luke was in the hospital, it was agreed that until he gets out, Francis would stay with me at home. I wanted to stay in the hospital the whole time, but Luke thought it was more dangerous at the hospital than being at home. The hospital was an hour closer to the land and Reid's men were probably aware we needed medical help if they investigated the area Luke had been shot. When it came to sleeping, we agreed I would stay at home with Francis's company, just to be safe. I guess that wasn't enough.

However, for how shitty I felt over Luke's helpless position, I could suck it up. Returning his desperate dark gaze with a light one, I said, "Sure, that's alright."

Time to get asshole dad on board. Luke's arms dropped, head turning to Jackson. "You are to stay at the house tonight. You and Francis both so I know she will be safe. I will drag myself out of this bed and go home if you won't, I'm that done with everything."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up, you know I'll do it," Jackson said. The one thing he and Luke had in common: they were both obsessively protective of me. Luke was more than aware of that similarity, and no matter the mutual hate, he could trust Jackson to protect me.

"Thank you." Closing his eyes, he sagged his tense body back against the propped bed. Running a hand through his hair, his lips were set in a hard line. "Now, go on your way, get killed...."

Did he sound like a dramatic baby? Eh... pretty much. But I knew how painful this was. Yesterday, he couldn't sit still, couldn't stop fidgeting despite his hurt leg. The dude couldn't help us, couldn't protect me, he couldn't take a shit without some form of assistance! It tore him up being here. Then, after our new plans were made ... he never felt so worthless. It was eating him alive. He never felt so damn pointless. Restless. The thought of me going back to that land – especially without him – made him sick. What made him feel worse was he relentlessly tried convincing me to listen... and I couldn't afford to.

Jackson gave a half uncaring eye roll before leaving the room. I slowly began to follow, but my eyes were stable on Luke. The sight made me stop half way to the door. I knew there was nothing I could do to help, but I needed to reassure him, even if it was pointless.

Taking a deep breath, I quickly walked to the side of his bed. "Luke," I said to his tense face and closed eyelids. "You've heard me say it so many times, but I'm sorry. I'm sorry you are stuck in bed, I'm sorry you can't help like you want, and I am so sorry that doing the exact opposite of what you said is making you feel worse. I will see you tomorrow."

Luke remained still, face still stone and eyes shut. There was nothing else to do though. Turning away to exit the room, I took one step before I was stopped by Luke's hand. Glancing back, his eyes were open. In the next moment, he sat up and towed me into his arms for a strong hug. One made from his shaking arms. I held him tightly in return, hands resting against his bare warm back where the hospital gown was parted.

"Be safe. Call me when you finish for the night."

Nodding against him, he let me go with pursed lips, face tilted down. Then, ten minutes later, Jackson and I were driving along the vacant highway.

***

The search was different from every other one I've done. Not just because it was night. We didn't bring our equipment with us; we couldn't trust it and for all we knew, it's signal gave us away before. Then, the strongest difference in my mind was Jackson.

I hadn't spent much time with him since the truth was revealed. So the hours we spent together in the deep wilderness, it made me extremely uncomfortable. Especially when we had to talk to each other... good freaking god. Though our silence was needed, it unfortunately couldn't last the whole night.

My memory was our guidance. When we reached a familiar valley, with a small stream through it... well, time to talk. Laying on our stomachs, peering out from the cover of trees, my eyes swept along the grassy open land. Besides a few scattered trees among the wide space, there was nothing blocking the moonlight from flooding the area. This would be a very dangerous obstacle.

Reluctantly, I crawled closer to Jackson beside me. "When Luke was shot, it came from across the stream," I whispered into Jackson's ear, clenching my fist against the grass. Speaking, and being close to him, swallowed me in the most destructive way.

My arm brushed his propped elbow under him, I touched his side... fuck. Fuck, I hated the contact! It made my insides turn uneasily. It rubbed reality in my face. Not as much as his sweaty scene. Facing the moonlit area from where we hid along the tree line, his expression was fine detail to me.

His light brown eyes scanned the area. "Was this the exact area it happened?" he mumbled.

"We were further up I think."

Straining his neck forward and to my left, the lines around his eyes scrunched. His ungroomed eyebrows dipped as he strained to see upstream. Dirt was smudged slightly against his cheek— I couldn't. Looking down and away, I took a deep breath. I couldn't look at him. Hours out here with him already nearly broke me. Taking the texture of his face in... it burned. I couldn't stand it, couldn't stand the sight of him, any sign of him. It dug under my skin.

Instinctively, I cringed away when he dipped his head and whispered in my ear. "We stay in the trees and go up further until we can cross where the trees come together. Or we can go downstream enough until we should be far enough away to cross safely."

"D-Downstream sounds better," I mumbled towards the ground.

Making it worse... was once we got downstream and crossed, he did something I nearly decked him for. The stream was faster, bigger. As we took a few steps into the knee-deep water, I had trouble steadying myself on the rocks. He grabbed my arm to help me stay balanced. Immediately, I shook it off.

He did it again, with a tighter grip. Shaking it off was no longer an option considering we needed to hurry, not fuss around. He helped drag me along. And when we reached the bank, I smacked his arm with a scowl.

"I didn't need your fucking help," I hissed.

For the first time tonight, a small smirk crossed his shadowed face. "What's wrong with helping my daughter?"

Those words were hard to handle. I was caught off guard, chest aching with eyes growing. Staring up into his face, I didn't know what to do. What to say. He did it to dig into my core and it worked.

It stayed with me, pissed me off for the remainder of our search. By the time we left, I was nearly shaking with uneasiness. Too much time was spent around him. My pent-up anxiousness and anger wanted to burst at the seams, especially once he accompanied me home. Francis was already sleeping in the guest room. For tonight, Jackson was here too. And I hated it enough, that even though I was starving when we got home at 4:00am, I went straight to my room.

Spending so much time with him that night caused my nightmares to intensify. When you think it can't get bad enough... vivid movies play out in your head as if they are real. Ones you want answers too. So, along with the uneasiness and anger of being around him, my dreams were worse.

Those dreams nagged at me. The next day, I couldn't stop wondering about his past. His thoughts. Everything he went though and every decision he made I didn't know about. And though it didn't matter, that bug was back. The one buzzing around my face, making me want to swat for answers. I finally killed the bug.

Tonight, I stayed home and slept while Jackson and Francis progressed with our objective. However, I had a very vivid dream, worse than my usual ones. It was just like the one the night before.

Jolting awake, my lips parted and lungs filled with air. Eyes shooting awake and to the ceiling, my mind raced. Not real, not real.... But holy fucking shit, that was a bad one! God damn.

It involved my hurt man in the hospital and my evil father. Jackson sold us out, told the organization about us and where we were. Then, Jackson with a few other evil men stormed the hospital room. They made me watch as they put a bullet in Luke's head. The blood was so bright and real against the white bed... The sight of Luke's dead face, flopping onto the floor with the rest of his body sagging off the bed... ugh!

I cringed, groaning from where I was now awake in our bedroom. "No," I breathed, dragging my hands down my sweaty face. So real, it was so freaking real, I almost wanted to call Luke right now. Right now. Just to tell him I love him and know he is safe.

However, I got it in my head it was just a nightmare. Just another very real nightmare. But one that made me wonder why. Why? Why did Jackson do that? After they shot Luke, they took me away with Jackson's help. Why? Why would he do that to me? Though it didn't matter, I needed to find out....

Checking the bedside clock, it was 4:30am. Jackson and Francis should be done for the night and back home, sleeping. I could... I could go see him right now. Should I? I laid there in the dark, thinking, going back and forth. My head begged me for answers, but what's the point? What would that change? Nothing. It wouldn't change the past. Talking to Jackson would only work me up. But, I wouldn't stop wondering regardless.

Jesus Christ, what's wrong with me? Whipping my covers off, I stood up and wiped my sweaty face into my pajama shirt. No reason not to when I changed out of them a second later. Throwing on jeans with a loose red shirt, I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked out of my room.

Quietly, I opened the guest door bedroom. Peeking in, I took in Francis's sprawled form under the covers. Snores reached my ears, and I could see the side of his smooth face. Well, he's home. That means Jackson would be home....

And he was.

Driving to Carter's old apartment where he was currently staying gave me second thoughts. I would never forget discovering the dresser covered in his blood. Jackson caused that and brutally murdered Carter. Not an hour ago, I had a nightmare where he killed Luke. That means I'm next....

Shaking away my stupid thoughts, I pulled down the long drive, passing identical buildings before I reached the right one. Shutting off the engine, headlights disappearing and leaving me in the dark, I took a deep breath. Here we go.

Walking up the sidewalk to where his door was, I knocked loudly, knowing he would be sleeping. Though it felt forever, an unlatching sound reached my ears. Light from inside illuminated the surrounding night and lit his scrunched face.

Tired eyes as slits, he rested a palm against the doorframe and cleared his throat. It was also one of the few times I saw his hair messy and not combed back. "Hey," he said, blinking. "What's going on?"

"I'm ready," I said, folding my chilly arms against my chest.

"Ready for what?"

I bit the inside of my flushing cheeks, glancing down to my shoes. "Answers."

A long moment passed. Jackson allowed the last few crickets of the night to fill the silence. When I didn't think he would answer, I looked ack up.

Eyes searching mine with a deep seriousness, they were wider and more awake. "Now? Just after I get home and fall asleep?"

"Never mind," I snapped, turning back towards the parking lot. For how uncomfortable I was, any resistance would send me happily home.

"No," he said, louder with urgency. "No, I'm sorry. Please come in."

Stopping in place after two feet, I mindlessly stared up into the dark sky. There was one thing I didn't want to do, and that was have any sympathy towards the man. No matter what he says, there is no excuse. However, I knew how difficult simply saying sorry was. It showed me he was willing to try to open up. Giving him credit for that was easy when I more than understood how hard this would be to show any emotion.

Moving back towards the man, our eyes met. His guard was still up, with his eyes acting as observers. There was no hiding how tightly his hand gripped the doorframe though.

"This won't change anything," I said, moving past him through the entrance.

"I know." Jackson closed the door. The dreadful and unforgettable moment I've been imagining since I was a child was about to happen. I would have answers.

***

The apartment was still quite empty, but he found a halfway decent couch. Sitting on the edge of the worn middle cushion, I stared at him. He was tensely perched in a folded chair, facing me on the other side of the low coffee table.

Through his grey tank top, his chest moved unevenly. He was sitting forward, elbows resting on his kneecaps. Rough hands clasped together, his knuckles were tight. "I don't know everything Carter told you," he started, eyes immediately falling towards the floor.

"He told me about your rise and fall in the organization. He didn't know anything personal. Only you know why you turned into filth. Even Clare didn't talk about you much; she hated you more than me."

"I know, you've told me. That was certainly not so when I knew her," he said, expression tight. The only sign that he felt vulnerability was how his eyes stayed down. "I... didn't exactly have a support system when I was a teenager. I was a hard worker, fended for myself, but I liked to have fun. 17 with all the independence that came with my deadbeat dad, I didn't give a fuck. Though I was flunking high school, I went to nearly every party. Which is where I met Clare. She was a freshman and I was a junior. You don't need to hear the details, but I knocked her up. She was pregnant even before we fell in love."

I snorted. Him mentioning falling in love with her boggled my mind. I knew it happened, but hearing this from Jackson... about Clare no less, it was hard to imagine. I knew they were different younger, but damn, how much could they have really changed? She was the devil, and Jackson is just a very closed-off person.

Finally, his eyes rose to mine. Apparently, my face radiated my thoughts. He offered a hum of amusement. "Believe it or not, Clare was a lively spirit, despite her faults," he said, clearing his throat. His gaze flicked back to the carpet. "She was clingy and immature in many ways, but fun and I loved being with her. We both went through abuse, she much more than I. It made us feel safe together; we were all we really had. So when she learned she was pregnant, I stayed committed. Her shit folks kicked her out, so we moved in together. We were literally all we had – and you on the way."

My sore back from how straight I was sitting didn't cave. If anything, after hearing the start of this insane story, I was at even more attentive. Heat beating rapidly, my emotional need for more enhanced my curiosity. "Your dad didn't care to even offer help?"

Jackson leaned forward and snagged his coffee cup from the table, taking a sip. His face remained forcefully neutral. "He cared, just not enough."

"Kind of like you?"

Jaw tightening, his eyes refused to meet mine. He refused to allow my instinctive words to affect him. "Yes, just like me." Fiddling senselessly with the coffee cup, he continued. "What I said before wasn't a lie. I am from Georgia. Albany, Georgia. My father and I moved to Ohio when my mom died. He offered tough love and it granted me with thick skin. He was a drinker and a deadbeat loser, leaving me to help with the bills. Well, when Clare got pregnant, he told me to be a man and make it work. Plus, I could no longer pay my share of the bills. I needed to sink everything into building a future with Clare. It wasn't a big fight or anything; I agreed with him. I knocked her up, it's my responsibility and should not ask for help. So, I moved out at 17, found a place for Clare and I."

Sucked in, I couldn't look away from his face. And Jackson couldn't look away from his memories. His brown eyes were lost in the past as he continued after a deep breath. "I dropped out of school, worked two jobs and managed to get us a dumpy trailer. For 15, she stepped up and got a job too. After school, she went straight to work and we somehow survived without any help. Starting a family was daunting and I wasn't ready, but I tried. Love can fuck you that way. You know you aren't ready and you don't care. You think it will just work out," he said, shaking his head. "We were dirt poor, living in a shitty trailer. And you know what, we were happy. We were happy, no matter how hard it was. Clare and I went down to the courthouse, got married before she started showing too much. She didn't want to look like trailer trash with her belly sticking out when we already kind of were trailer trash. I'll never forget that," he said, smirking before it quickly faded. "Anyway, a few months later... we had you." Slowly, his eyes traveled up to mine.

The eye contact and those words sent chills over me. Chills of surrealism. Without a story, facts were just facts. Mind blowing fucking crazy facts, but facts. Now that he was telling me this... the surrealism grew to a new level.

I was friends with this man for three years, lived across the street from him, and believed we first met when he approached me with the FBI. This whole time... he was actually a guy who was there with Clare at the start, who was there when I was born. And all this time... he was Jackson Honeywell to me until the truth finally came out.

The pressure growing within me made things difficult. Breath hitching, it was my turn to glance away and down. The weight was already growing heavy on my shoulders. Years and years and years I wanted answers about my father. My mysterious father... and now, I finally was getting them. Simply hearing how they met, what led them to move in... it was hard to hear – and that shit wasn't even that important! Christ, why was this effecting me? We were just getting started and strangely, my throat twanged in thickness.

Staring down at my legs tightly together near the lip of the coffee table, Jackson continued. "Money was always an issue for us and even more of one once we had a child. For a while, we truly were happy, and, and... happy with you—" he cut himself off with a deep sigh. "But we were just kids. There was more than money trouble. We felt stuck. Work, money, and providing for a baby. She had no choice other than to drop out of school to watch after you while I worked. She hated giving up school and work, but she did. We were both jealous of the other; she wanted out of the house and a break while I wanted a break from working two jobs a day. It strained our time together and relationship. I gradually started to miss not having any spending money or freedom, but money was so tight. I even began looking for a third job until one day, I was approached by a man, Jacob..." he trailed off.

His pause caused me to look back up to the man. Jackson's eyebrows dipped before he spoke in a lower voice to the floor. "You just turned one. And I.... Though I had a wife, a child, I was only 18. No excuse, but the need for money blinded me. The need to not have three fucking jobs blinded me. More than anything, my confidence and arrogance blinded me." Shifting his jaw, the man's rough voice turned thicker, threatening to show me a side of him I've never seen. "Meeting him was the worst thing that could have happened and it blinded me."

Those words, the trouble he had speaking them, it became very clear I was about to see a part of Jackson he managed to keep emotionally hidden. What he was about to say would not be easy for either of us. Though he was getting into the backstory, this was just the start.

I was about to hear things that would shake me to my core. Including finally hearing the reason everything went to shit. He was about to tell me what went behind his awful decisions. I have been waiting years and years... finally, he was going to give me the detailed answers.

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Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this – and the start of Jackson's story he is sharing with Albany.

I do need to apologize if it seems awkward with where I ended the chapter. I planned on getting much more of Jackson's story into this chapter, but I couldn't. Tomorrow I am heading out of town for a few days. So, it was either post this and what I have now, or wait a while to post with more material. I figured having it a little shorter and up now was better than having a super late chapter. Therefore, sorry about the weird stopping point. Don't worry, me being gone shouldn't hold me back from posting the next chapter soon!

What are you expecting from this little session between Albany and Jackson? I am already very excited to write the next chapter and show Jackson's side of things from all those years ago!

Also, if by a weird chance someone is interested, I might post a few things about my trip on my Facebook page. I plan on posting more things in the future. I'm trying to put myself out there more haha

I hope you had a wonderful day and a great weekend! :D