Jack startled, eyes opening into darkness that was just as deep as that behind her lids. Why she continued to startle like that was beyond her; she'd been dreaming of that day on the train nearly every night now. Julian, 'Jules', the man she'd been assigned to dispose of, and who'd been assigned to dispose of her.
The lipstick, and the straight razor. It was what it had all come down to. Jack's poisonous lips had been a hair's breadth away from Julian's as Julian's blade had pressed against her throat, her blood trickling slowly down her neck as she'd looked into his eyes and resigned herself to fall into those pools forever.
Neither had died that day, of course. Neither had had it in them to do it. What happened instead was what these dreams were really about...two days locked inside Julian's sleeper car, dying those tiny deaths instead, over and over, until exhaustion beat the two of them into submission.
When it was over, and they stood standing on the platform, about to go their separate ways, they'd made a promise to each other. Go home, tell the powers that be that they'd eluded each other, and go about their lives. Sure, such a failure would count as a black mark on their respective records, but it didn't much matter. Julian's record was so extensive that he could afford taking the hit, and Jacqueline, still somewhat new to the game, could afford to not give a shit. The target had simply jumped the train.
He'd never jumped her thoughts, though. Here he was, night after night, even as she lay here in her childhood bed back in Tulsa. Mom was already up; she could smell coffee brewing and...God, yes please...hash browns! Dragging her fingers away from the slight, white scar on her neck, Jack stood and pulled on a pair of jeans, but left the black and grey flannel shirt on. The old house was cold, and she added some wool socks to her ensemble before heading downstairs and into the kitchen. Mom turned and grinned at her, that cat-who-ate-the-canary smile of hers firmly in place.
"What did you do, Mom?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Jacqueline. Eat something, will you? You're too skinny. I don't even think that dress….shit. Well there went that surprise," she said, pouring more coffee for herself with a snort. Mom would have made a wretched spy.
"You're surprising me with a dress? Why, where we going?"
Mom bit her lip, then shrugged. "I bought tickets for the symphony. Thought it would be nice for us to all get dressed up and go. You, me, your dad, even your brother agreed. He's bringing that new girlfriend of his, won't that be fun?"
Yay. Fifth wheel. So much fun. Forcing a smile, she gave her mother a one-armed hug and poured herself some coffee. Next to the pot was eggnog, instead of creamer. Grinning, Jack dumped a huge splash into her mug and shot her mom a look. Adopted or not, Monica knew her children inside and out.
"Breakfast of champions."
***
That night, Jack shimmied into the fuzzy sweater dress her mother had bought. Cute, but itchy. Her black boots paired nicely with it, though. Onyx earrings, some mascara, and red lipstick completed the look. As she descended the stairs, finger-combing her hair into behaving, she heard the rest of the family chattering away in the kitchen.
"Took you long enough, Dork. We're gonna be late," her brother Chris yapped at her before chucking a wadded-up napkin at her. She caught it and shoved it down the back of his sweater.
"I wouldn't have taken so long if someone hadn't used up all the hot water first, Jerk. Hey, Tonya, you look great!" Jack enthused at Chris' newest girlfriend. She never saw the same girl twice, but they all seemed nice enough, and as she made small talk, Jack's parents herded them out the door and into the Tahoe, which dad had already started running in the driveway. In minutes, they were at the concert hall downtown, the valets opening their doors.
"If it's all Christmas songs, I'm double-fisting my drinks," Chris muttered as they stepped inside the lobby. Jack murmured something about doing the same when her mother pulled her aside. She was nearly bouncing on her toes in excitement.
"Okay. So. The dress, the concert. Not really your gift. Your, uh. 'Friend' called me, said he'd just missed you and was it okay to come along tonight? That accent, Jack. How could I say no? Anyway, Merry Christmas!"
Mom spun her by the shoulders then, putting her directly face to face with the man she was supposed to kill just weeks before.
"Jules," she stammered out, her eyes going huge and beginning to water. His superiors...they must have demanded he finish the job, after all. Except now, it wouldn't be just her. Mom...Dad...Chris…Chris' squeeze…he'd kill them all.
"Jack." His eyes flicked down to the scar on her neck, then back up, where it landed on her lips.
"May I kiss you hello, or would that be the death of me?"
The lipstick, and the straight razor. It was what it had all come down to. Jack's poisonous lips had been a hair's breadth away from Julian's as Julian's blade had pressed against her throat, her blood trickling slowly down her neck as she'd looked into his eyes and resigned herself to fall into those pools forever.
Neither had died that day, of course. Neither had had it in them to do it. What happened instead was what these dreams were really about...two days locked inside Julian's sleeper car, dying those tiny deaths instead, over and over, until exhaustion beat the two of them into submission.
When it was over, and they stood standing on the platform, about to go their separate ways, they'd made a promise to each other. Go home, tell the powers that be that they'd eluded each other, and go about their lives. Sure, such a failure would count as a black mark on their respective records, but it didn't much matter. Julian's record was so extensive that he could afford taking the hit, and Jacqueline, still somewhat new to the game, could afford to not give a shit. The target had simply jumped the train.
He'd never jumped her thoughts, though. Here he was, night after night, even as she lay here in her childhood bed back in Tulsa. Mom was already up; she could smell coffee brewing and...God, yes please...hash browns! Dragging her fingers away from the slight, white scar on her neck, Jack stood and pulled on a pair of jeans, but left the black and grey flannel shirt on. The old house was cold, and she added some wool socks to her ensemble before heading downstairs and into the kitchen. Mom turned and grinned at her, that cat-who-ate-the-canary smile of hers firmly in place.
"What did you do, Mom?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Jacqueline. Eat something, will you? You're too skinny. I don't even think that dress….shit. Well there went that surprise," she said, pouring more coffee for herself with a snort. Mom would have made a wretched spy.
"You're surprising me with a dress? Why, where we going?"
Mom bit her lip, then shrugged. "I bought tickets for the symphony. Thought it would be nice for us to all get dressed up and go. You, me, your dad, even your brother agreed. He's bringing that new girlfriend of his, won't that be fun?"
Yay. Fifth wheel. So much fun. Forcing a smile, she gave her mother a one-armed hug and poured herself some coffee. Next to the pot was eggnog, instead of creamer. Grinning, Jack dumped a huge splash into her mug and shot her mom a look. Adopted or not, Monica knew her children inside and out.
"Breakfast of champions."
***
That night, Jack shimmied into the fuzzy sweater dress her mother had bought. Cute, but itchy. Her black boots paired nicely with it, though. Onyx earrings, some mascara, and red lipstick completed the look. As she descended the stairs, finger-combing her hair into behaving, she heard the rest of the family chattering away in the kitchen.
"Took you long enough, Dork. We're gonna be late," her brother Chris yapped at her before chucking a wadded-up napkin at her. She caught it and shoved it down the back of his sweater.
"I wouldn't have taken so long if someone hadn't used up all the hot water first, Jerk. Hey, Tonya, you look great!" Jack enthused at Chris' newest girlfriend. She never saw the same girl twice, but they all seemed nice enough, and as she made small talk, Jack's parents herded them out the door and into the Tahoe, which dad had already started running in the driveway. In minutes, they were at the concert hall downtown, the valets opening their doors.
"If it's all Christmas songs, I'm double-fisting my drinks," Chris muttered as they stepped inside the lobby. Jack murmured something about doing the same when her mother pulled her aside. She was nearly bouncing on her toes in excitement.
"Okay. So. The dress, the concert. Not really your gift. Your, uh. 'Friend' called me, said he'd just missed you and was it okay to come along tonight? That accent, Jack. How could I say no? Anyway, Merry Christmas!"
Mom spun her by the shoulders then, putting her directly face to face with the man she was supposed to kill just weeks before.
"Jules," she stammered out, her eyes going huge and beginning to water. His superiors...they must have demanded he finish the job, after all. Except now, it wouldn't be just her. Mom...Dad...Chris…Chris' squeeze…he'd kill them all.
"Jack." His eyes flicked down to the scar on her neck, then back up, where it landed on her lips.
"May I kiss you hello, or would that be the death of me?"