Dutch Pink and Italian Blue. He is There Waiting for You (Victoria)

Monday turned into Tuesday, Tuesday into Wednesday and Wednesday into Thursday. And slowly, the princess returned to something resembling normal.

Jackson didn't exactly remember how many cups of tea he'd made, how many slices of bread he'd buttered and how many meals he'd attempted to make only for half of them to end up in the trash before Victoria had finally emerged form the confines of her bedroom to look over the kitchen again. She hadn't out rightly pointed out his abysmal skills in the culinary department but her quiet corrections had been enough. Grinning sheepishly, Jackson had since taken over dish washing duty while she cooked. Both of them had completely ignored the existence of a dishwasher, simply remaining in the kitchen where one cooked while the other did the washing up, finding solace in the silent company.

That night, Jackson had slept out on the sofa, or tried to at the very least. Her sleeping had improved over the last two days and she hand't asked for him to come to bed with her. Taking the hint, the man had made his manly fort on the couch that was cavalry too small for his tall frame but it would have to do. Sleep hand't come easy and he was quite successful for the most part in convincing himself it was because of the couch and not because he was worried over the young woman having nightmares next door. At one point, Jackson must have developed an isolated case of sleepwalking because the wizard did not wake up on the couch that morning but rather on he floor space just outside Victoria's bedroom door, her knees and elbows jabbing him sharply where she'd tripped over his dozing form upon leaving the room and not realizing he was outside.

That morning, they made waffles and the princess ate a whole one. In celebration, Jackson ate three absolutely drenched in maple syrup. Victories came small in the aftermath of what had happened, but they were sweet nonetheless. Over breakfast, the tiny witch expressed surprise that she hand't heard anything from the office but Jackson simply assured ehr everything was fine and that he was on top of it. Truth be told, he had two emails, one from Maggie and Kendra each and a voice message from an unknown caller he nonetheless felt he knew. That was the thing bout exes, even after you deleted them from your phone, you couldn't delete them from your life.

After breakfast, the two occupants of the flat decided to have a laundry day, for which Jackson was grateful because even George's ample supply of wearable was growing thin, mostly because one morning in her daze, Victoria had grabbed one of his sweatshirts instead of her own and Jackson hand't felt it best to point that out. So the princess had gone around all day in his shirt while he had made done with the same T shirt from yesterday which now really needed a wash.

"Wait, hang on," the man pointed out as Victoria was about to start the machine. Walking over to the behemoth, the man removed his T shirt, rolling it up over his head and tossing it in the machine before giving her the all good sign. A minute later, teh washing cycle had come to life, leaving Jackson leaning against the sink in his jogging bottoms and a grin. "Thanks kid."

With the machine set to work, Jackson retreated to his makeshift man fort, picking up the remote and scrolling through the slew of Disney moves they had been watching over the last few days. Where silent sitcoms had failed, movies like Brave, Moana and Frozen had done the trick. "What are we watching today? I suggest Mulan," he called out to the witch. "C'mon Vic, choose quick before I call dibs."

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Dutch Pink and Italian Blue. He is There Waiting for You (Victoria) Rsz_mi10

Dutch Pink and Italian Blue. He is There Waiting for You (Victoria) Rsz_ja12

Dutch Pink and Italian Blue. He is There Waiting for You (Victoria) Rsz_rs13

The haze was slowly lifting around the witch, bringing with it small snippets of reality as Victoria pushed herself to come back to the world of the living. It was not an easy task, truthfully, everything that was going on around her had the capabilities of reminding her of Saturday evening, even if not explicitly. When she caught sight of the dress in the laundry, Victoria had shrunk away from the laundry bin, trying to calm her breathing as flashes of the evening came back to her. Jackson's suit jacket had been a prompt which she'd promptly folded down and returned to his bag so that it was out of sight. Every time she went for a shower, she would be reminded of what had happened from the marks upon her body that Jackson hadn't been able to cover because he hadn't seen them.

And in the nighttime, Wyatt Jameson's face haunted her through the small hours of the evening.

But with each day that passed, Victoria managed to cope with the triggers, big and small, by reminding herself of the one thing she needed to know in that moment. Jackson would never let that happen to her. He'd proved that much when he'd broken in to the bathroom to free her from Mr Jameson's embrace. Jackson would never allow any harm to come to her, she knew that, and that was the mantra that she kept to herself, internalised, but always there.

Often times, the witch would lose herself in the middle of something, the scene replaying in her mind without reason, but it was Jackson who always gently brought her back to the moment. A soft question pulling through the fog and bringing her back to the here and now. The way his arms had held her protectively as they slept, keeping everything else at bay, had become her favourite and most selfish place to be. Which was why on Wednesday night she had not asked Jackson to sleep beside her, the guilt... the horrible feeling of taking liberties of the engaged man's kindness had kept her from asking him to repeat what he'd done for the previous four nights. She'd barely slept that evening, too afraid of the dark, the silence, and the lack of protection around her waist that assured her Jackson was close.

That she was safe.

The cold that clung to her small frame had not eased despite the blankets and duvet on her bed, and the tears had dampened the witch's pillow immeasurably as she tried to push the thoughts and feelings away. He was only outside, he would have come in if she asked, Victoria had known that, but she couldn't bring herself to ask. Asking would only hurt more.

Jackson had been so kind, so patient...

Sleep had taken her away from the moment, though, attacking her subconsciously with the vicious words and attacks of Wyatt Jameson four nights ago. The witch had thrashed in the bed silently that night, taking a step backwards in the progress they'd achieved before now. Except this time... this time the dream came to a different ending, one in which Wyatt Jameson had bested Jackson instead of the other way around, and it was the younger politician who had laid in a pool of his own blood, and Victoria had not been able to move to help him. He was going to die, because she could not save him-

The witch sat bolt upright, sweat pouring from ever pore of her body as she tried to calm her breathing. Looking to the clock on her bedside, it showed it to be seven in the morning. She'd barely gained three hours sleep, but she couldn't sleep any more. She needed the shower.

In her haste to get to the bathroom, Victoria had not considered the possibility that Jackson would be asleep by her door. It was exactly that reason that had sent her falling across the man, her knee landing in his stomach, an elbow to his chest. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, sorry, sorry!" Victoria had apologised repeatedly until she'd managed to get off of Jackson without hurting him further. Her feet had taken her on autopilot to the bathroom, mortified that she'd fallen over the man that morning when she was in such a state.

A sign, really, that she was coming back to herself as she switched on the shower, trying to drown out the voice in her head that had been leading her towards the same conclusion all evening. One she could not accept.

After changing in to new clothes, Victoria had made her way to the kitchen where Jackson followed her to aid in making breakfast. They both agreed on waffles that morning, even though Victoria would have preferred to stick to the plainer option of lightly buttered toast, she'd decided to at least try to stomach something else. Jackson was much too happy with the decision it seemed, and as they sat down at the breakfast table, Victoria pulled one waffle towards her, poured a decent amount of syrup across the top, and started the slow chore of eating the usually easily manageable portion of food in relative silence as Jackson devoured three waffles in the same time.

From there, the witch had headed to get a batch of laundry -- collecting Jackson's clothes without a second thought and heading to the washing machine as Jackson did the washing up. The witch was just finishing up with that chore when Jackson asked her to wait, peeling off his shirt which made the witch's eyes look away quickly because she didn't wish to see Jackson half naked. Of course, the man was unabashed, and moved back to the sofa, talking all the way as Victoria took a moment to steady herself against the side, sucking in air to manage herself better in that moment. Even the small motion of undressing brought up bad memories, but the witch gently berated herself, turning to the cupboard to collect two glasses and pouring them both some juice before following Jackson to the sofa.

"Mulan sounds fine," Victoria replied as she placed the glasses down on the coffee table before them. Next she moved for her blanket which she wrapped gently around herself, covering herself further than the tracksuit bottoms and oversized shirt possibly could as she took her seat next to Jackson. Just close enough for his arm to gently settle around her as it had the last couple of days as they watched movies.

The man pushed the buttons on the PlayStation to make it work, and Victoria settled just enough beside him to start to feel relaxed. For the first few moments, Victoria was quiet, not knowing what to say -- what did she say in these moments -- to Jackson at all, but knowing that she really should relinquish him from this burden. To push him back towards Sasha. "Jackson," Victoria started, turning to him slightly. In the process, though, because the witch had not yet brought herself to look him in the eye for fear of what she would see, her eyes caught sight of the somewhat angry, but partially healed marks upon his chest. Nail marks, clearly dug in to his chest as if someone had slashed at his chest.

The witch's eyes remained there for a long moment, before daring to look up to his face, his lips, his nose... his eyes. The fear was evident as she looked up at him. "Did... did I do that?" She asked softly, her left hand peaking out from the blanket with caution to touch the marks and ensure the validity of them. The skin beneath her finger tips was ragged, gently scabbing over, and almost as if being burned at touching him, Victoria's hand shot back in to the refuge of the blanket. "I'm so sorry..." The witch spoke, freeing herself from the man's embrace and looking away.

"I've made a mess of everything, haven't I? I'm so sorry." The witch repeated the apology again. She didn't hurt people on principal, she didn't like it, but here she was, hurting Jackson. Why? Because she couldn't deal with an older man's advances? Jackson had to pay for that? It wasn't fair on him, and the guilt shone brightly in the witch's eyes.

She hadn't meant to hurt anybody...

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As the princess approved of the movie, Jackson settled down on the couch, remote at the ready for when she joined him. Of curse he would never tell this to anyone but the man knew most of the kiddy songs by heart because Merida had been of the firm, all American belief that televisions made the best babysitter. Everything public access was fair game and by the late eighties and early nineties, Disney had gone through a charitable education campaign, donating some its more modern stuff to the masses. As a result, Jackson could do the entire routine from "Make a Man Out of You" in his sleep.

The politician entertained the thought of doing just that to cheer Victoria up today, but before he could suggest so, the young woman had already opened her mouth. Jackson had noticed she did that a lot recently. She parted her lips to say something, then appeared to second guess herself. It was almost painful watching her reshuffle the words in another order than the one they were originally intended in, but it hurt worse when she simply gave up and felt silent again. This was not the Goblin, and he was going to make sure that old Victoria came back.

"Did... did I do that?"

"Eh, I guess," he confirmed, looking down at the place where she'd just touched him. The marks had gone unnoticed until now, and would certainly disappear soon by the rate they were healing. "I didn't even feel it to be honest, you hit like a girl," he teased, trying to make ehr smile. he must have been very cold, he realized as he noted the way she clutched at her blanket. Though Jackson himself couldn't feel it.

"Want the air conditioning off?' he offered, turning back to the movie, his arm still slung over the cushion in case she ever felt the need to crawl back into it. Baby steps with her was the right way, he'd figured. Instead of telling hr to do tings or even asking her, he'd simply have to leave options around for her to pick and choose at will. Jackson had once read in rehab that choice was important, and despite not knowing anything about what the witch was going through, he could still assume that to her, it would be more important than ever now.

Should Victoria give the indication, Jackson would hit play, bringing to live the colorful, animated, Americanized version of ancient china on the large screen.

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The confirmation that she had done that to Jackson's chest made the witch's breath catch as she looked away from him, shrinking beneath the blanket cocoon she'd made for herself more than before in an effort to hide from the man. How could she hurt him when he'd saved her from... from a much worse fate than the one she'd suffered? Victoria couldn't help but want to shrink in to nothingness, and it seemed Jackson would allow that much as he didn't respond to her question of ruining things, instead asking her if she wanted to turn the air conditioning off.

The witch shook her head, her own discomfort didn't matter now she knew she'd caused Jackson pain.

To Jackson's credit, he didn't push further, simply motioning to the movie. Victoria nodded, and the cartoon began, but the witch's eyes were not upon the screen, losing focus on the cabinet as he mind worked through more and more of the evening. No matter how many times she tried to think past Wyatt Jameson, of what had been happening, it didn't make sense to the witch.

Jackson's arrival didn't make sense.

But, she couldn't be sure, no matter how many times she tried to do it, Victoria simply could not piece it together. Wyatt Jameson's body had been pressed against hers, pinning her against the bathroom wall -- the thought brought a unwelcome shudder through her small frame as she pushed the smell of alcohol that still lingered on her no matter how hard she'd scrubbed her skin -- but he'd fallen the wrong way for Jackson to have come in behind them.

But after hitting the floor as hard as she had, Victoria wasn't sure if she'd hit her head, if the ordeal had been different to how she remembered because she had been confused. Because from there, the witch could only remember the final burst of energy she'd used to push herself up in to Jackson's arms. To stop him from committing a crime that she was not worth the jail sentence to complete.

As the film carried on before them, Victoria looked across at the man, slowly, cautiously, taking in the way he watched the film with interest, or perhaps some manner of patience that she did not deserve. Her chest lurched painfully as the familiar feeling of guilt that swept through her knowing the burden with which she'd forced the man to be here, she knew it would not go away.

They hadn't spoken of what had happened. Victoria wasn't sure how to start the conversation, wasn't sure she wanted to start the conversation, but she knew Jackson to be too much of a gentleman to speak of such things without prompting. Merlin knew if he would talk about them even if she did prompt him.

But she had to know.

"J-Jackson," the witch spoke, her voice wobbling slightly because she was scared, of course she was scared. Only when she was sure she had the man's attention from the television, though, did Victoria speak again. Or, she tried, but it was quite clear as the witch sat, looking towards the man who'd kept her from harm, just about meeting his eyes, she realised why she hadn't been able to look the man in the eyes. The truth of why she'd wanted him both so close and yet wanted him to leave her alone all in the same moment solidified in to the reality of what she'd been feeling.

Had it not been for the fact she'd already spoken his name, gained his attention and attempted to speak, Victoria would have given in to the idea of asking.

But she had to understand.

"Every time I see... remember..." She started, though she fell down on how to say what she meant in it's entirety. "You... were you already in the bathroom?" The witch asked, because it didn't make sense. Why wouldn't Wyatt Jameson had checked the bathroom first before he'd... The witch couldn't even think about it. Confusion masked her features in that moment, and she couldn't help it. "They said you were in the bathroom drinking, that was why... I didn't want to believe it, but I couldn't not come to stop you... but it was just a trap...

"But, your spell, am I confused? I..." The witch frowned with the unspoken notion of not being able to remember. The silent plea for him to help her in that moment. To make sense of things that might seem trivial to Jackson, but that were important to her, to know she was not going mad with the memories she relived much too frequently over the last four days.

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The movie began and the witch beside him fell silent once more. Still, she probably needed time. not everything could be the success Frozen was with the miniature witch even attempting to sing along. Jackson watched the first half of the movie, almost lost in thought as animated dragons danced to song. The email from work had confirmed that Wyatt Jameson had been attached the night of his wedding and was now in a coma. His office had send flowers to the new bride with a generic well wishes card. The second email had been to discuss funding with Jameson's people...

And it was perhaps this part that twisted his innards into knots the most. Jackson did not for a second regret what he'd done that night and given the chance, he would do it again happy. Heck if Victoria hand't been around to stop him, he was almost certain he would have done a lot worse. Even if he had to pay in a thousand lost findings.

Which in the light of day, looked a lot like his drams disappearing down the drain. Non of this was anyone's fault of course, unless it was that scum. But Jackson shouldn't have gotten into bed with that rat bastard in the first place. All he'd gotten was a few extra months to keep his operation running. Dimly, he remembered Michael's present in the form of a thumb drive Jackson had no idea of the whereabouts of now. But even that wouldn't be enough without sufficient funding.

Which lead to the anonymous voicemail that he still hand't listened to...

"J-Jackson,"

"Mhm," he replied, eyes still focused on the screen and mind a hundred miles away before it registered that Victoria had talked. Reaching for the remote, the man paused the invading Huns on the flat screen and turned his body towards the huddled witch. "What's up?"

"Every time I see... remember... You... were you already in the bathroom?"

It was almost to much, watching her put words together as if terrified of the end result. Usually so quick on the uptake, it had taken her days to figure out that something had gone amiss, not that he blamed her. After what she'd been through, even remembering her own name was impressive. But it did bring to mind one thing.

Over the last few days Jackson had been so caught up on making her feel better that he'd completely forgotten his part in the whole affair. Aside form the blame and self loathing that routinely plagued the politician every time he witnessed the princess's suffering, he hadn't really thought beyond that to what had happened. He remembered being extremely happy, taking Tessa to the bathroom and then the world had changed.

"Um, yeah,' the man reached over to scratch the back of his head, trying not to meet her gaze directly. "I was already in there, not drinking though," he added hurriedly to reassure her. He wouldn't, couldn't, do that to her. "I don't think the Fu- Jameson knew I was there or he would have..." He would have picked a safer venue to assault her, just the thought of it made Jackson's blood boil.

"I was with someone... in one of the cubicles.," he finally admitted, still unwilling to look directly at her. If he'd ever imagined confessing his affair with Tessa Greene to someone in any way, it certainly hadn't been to Victoria Newbury in this manner.

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The admittance that Jackson had been in the bathroom didn't make sense to Victoria, and for a moment the witch was in her own little world, trying to get in to the head of her attacker who had not thought to check the room to be empty before he'd-

Victoria's body tensed anew, trying to push the thoughts of how it would have ended had Jackson not been in the bathroom at the same time. Why was she trying to undo the plan Wyatt Jameson had made when it meant she'd... she'd not been subjected to his full plans. Why was she sat here feeling terrible for the fact Jackson had been there?

But his admittance that he had not been drinking was enough to bring a small smile to Victoria's lips. Relief sagging her shoulders beneath the blanket as she took in the news he had not done what she'd been led to believe he had. Not that she had believed it, or... she'd not wanted to believe it. The confirmation that the worry hadn't been needed was welcome, though, a relief because it was more important Jackson hadn't been hurt by all of this than it was for her own safety.

"I was with someone..."

The words jolted a new memory in all of this, sharp, painful but clear. As she'd been losing consciousness in Jackson's arms, the auburn hair behind him had caught in the periphery. The black dress contrasting against the pale complexion of Tessa Greene as she emerged from behind the man hit harder than Victoria could have expected it to, and her eyes grew slightly wider as the realisation came.

She'd lost both of them in that evening, but she'd never thought Jackson would be a...

"Tessa..." Victoria breathed, not needing Jackson to confirm that it had been the Fox Heiress because Victoria could remember it now. Not vividly, no, but the notion of Jackson having been with someone had prompted just enough to spark the recognition in her memory. It made the temperature in the room plummet even deeper in that moment, and the pain in her chest she'd felt before was nothing in comparison to the agonising thud of her heart against her chest.

Her earlier realisation had been nothing in comparison to this one...

Not only did Jackson had a fiance, but he had a lover, too.

"Tea?" Victoria asked, already getting to her feet to complete the task she'd assigned herself in order to get away from the man. It wasn't his fault, she couldn't blame him. His feelings couldn't be controlled...

The witch's hands shook violently as she picked up the kettle, hastily filling it before quickly setting it in place to boil.

Too many questions.

Too many feelings.

The frantic frenzy of distraction would not keep up with her as she battled momentarily with the tea jar, before finally getting in to it and placing tea bags in two cups.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. The witch told herself, leaning against the counter and taking deep breaths to try to calm herself back down. Not now, she couldn't allow herself to be taken from the momentary clarity by her own head feeding hungrily on her worries, fears, anxiety.

From the kitchen, though, Victoria couldn't help but ask.

"Does it mean something?"

It's none of your business!

"Does Sasha... does she know?"

Of course she doesn't.

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"Tessa..."

The man hung his head in something resembling shame, an oddity in itself because he had gone through months of this double life without feeling an ounce of it. He hand't felt shame when he'd first slept with Tessa mere weeks after her husband's incarceration. He certainly hadn't felt any shame when he'd returned home the same night and done the same with his fiance. He felt no shame waking up next to the redhead every day and reaching for his phone to send Tessa a good morning text and kiss and he certainly hadn't felt ashamed dragging Tessa to the bathroom that night to ravage her.

But now, as the Princess used his side hustle's name in the form of a question, he felt it well up unexpectedly. Jackson could deal with the whole world thinking he was a prick but not Victoria. He wanted to explain but before he could, the little witch was on her feet, of to make tea he would never drink anyway. She had even neglected to notice her own juice still untouched on the coffee table.

The only other woman he would feel uncomfortable talking about all this with was Merida, and Jackson had a feeling his mother somehow had a hand in Victoria slowly developing into his personal - and often inconvenient - moral compass. How could he explain that being around Sasha made him... it made him angry that she had forced her way into his life with a lie. And that lie had been further cemented when it was linked to his career in the form of the ridiculous wedding. Despite his casual ways, Jackson had always wanted to love the person he one day married, and how could he love the girl who had manipulated ehr way into his life. What kind of love offered protection from being on a list somewhere in return?

"Does it mean something?"

"It's... one of the only things that keep me going some days," he admitted truthfully, half hoping his voice didn't carry over to her. Things were easier to admit from a distance though so Jackson did, breathing a great sigh in the process. "But it doesn't matter now." Everything was going to hell in a hand basket, why not this too?

"Does Sasha... does she know?"

"Does she ever know anything?" Jackson asked bitterly, not bothering to keep the accusation from his tone. "Does she know what I do for a living? Has she ever bothered finding out? Does she know I always spend Christmas with Merida? Or does she just not like setting up the guest bedroom or going to Green Lake? She couldn't even be bothered to show up for the wedding, or any political event, or my best friend's birthday? Why do you think I take you to Jim and Preethi Bhaabhi's and not her? Because they're to 'ethnic" for her."

By the time he'd finished the rant, she was slowly returning to the living room, two cups of tea in hand. Props, he recognized them for what they were but didn't blame her. If he could find something to do with his hands right now, he would do it too. "But it is what is it. Sasha's not going anywhere and I just..." What, he just wanted to be happy? That somehow didn't seem like a good enough excuse.

"Nothing, I know it was wrong. So go ahead, I deserve the lecture."

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"It's... one of the only things that keep me going some days,"

Those words might as well have been dealt like a blow to the witch as they knocked the air from her lungs more powerfully than she'd ever felt such feelings. Her heart lurching painfully with its beat as he admitted that his feelings for Tessa... how he felt for Tessa was evidently more than just an affair of convenience. Possibly, possibly Jackson felt love for the older witch, but Victoria could not say for certain in that moment, she just knew that the other witch was someone who kept Jackson going.

Thankful for the distance between them, though, the witch inhaled slowly, trying to keep the physical pain in her chest from growing further in that moment.

Everything made so much sense now.

Everything was growing with clarity as her mind scrambled to work around the new conundrum that had been presented to her. Well, two new conundrums, but only one would ever matter. Only one had ever mattered, and just because something had grown and would make it harder to do so, Victoria would continue on anyway. Jackson's happiness, his career, and his achievements in this life were the most important at the moment, and as he even suggested that it didn't matter, Victoria turned back towards the living room, unable to hear him talking with such negativity if she could make things right.

His rant about Sasha soon ensued, and guilt rode up in Victoria in that moment. After finding Jackson had been deceived by the young witch, and both of them fearing that he could be denoted as the kind of man he certainly was not, Victoria had ensured that everything the man did could not lead to him being thrown in to jail for what had happened. Bringing Sasha to the America had been on Victoria's insistence, the proposal her idea, everything that brought them to now... But Sasha didn't love the man she cared for so deeply, she didn't treasure the man sat on her sofa, and now he found himself looking elsewhere for... fulfilment.

Victoria placed their cups down gently on the coffee table beside their glasses of juice, before sinking gently back on to the sofa. Half turned towards the man, the witch couldn't help the smile that touched both her lips and her eyes as Jackson suggested she would lecture him. Amusement, really, that he could think she would do such a thing to him.

"I'm not condoning your behaviour, I never will." Victoria replied to the man, honesty above all else. "But, if it makes you... happy, then I won't lecture you. I just wish you'd told me all of this before I did what I did for you and Sasha." She admitted, because she would have found another way, would have ensured Sasha and Jackson's romance never came out, and he would have been free to pursue any woman he wished, publicly. Even if that would mean setting him up to Tessa's arms, she would have supported him in the same way, but it was too late, now.

"All I'm going to say, Jackson, is that whilst the best option would be to be truthful to Sasha, to break up, move on... you can't." Victoria told him, reaching for his hands to both reassure him, and steady herself. "If you want to win the mid terms, you can't do anything stupid with another woman until then." If the man moved to interrupt, Victoria would shake her head. "Not before the midterms, you're going to have to trust me, but I will make everything right, okay?"

Because he didn't need to say what he wanted. Jackson didn't need to tell her what he needed, she already knew, and she would sort it out. This was going to give her the focus she needed, and though it would hurt her a million times over, she would find a way to make the man happy if it killed her.

"And Sasha is silly, you're one of the most interesting men I know." Victoria resolved as she sat comfortably beside the man with a finality about her and the conversation. She would snuggle up with him one last time until the movie was finished, she would enjoy the weight of his arm around her as they finished the film, before finally insisting Jackson go home to Sasha, to his home, so that he could continue with the charade she'd made.

But only until the midterms.

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