"I'm not much a fan of booze. Never have been." [i]He replied, looking over to her. His face as usual was blank, he seemed tired, out of it. His eyes conveyed a world of hurt, but they observed her none the less. No matter how depressed he was, he couldn't help but look at her. She was still the most beautiful woman he'd seen, and the new outfit accentuated that. Although he didn't show it, he was very intrigued by her red hair. It looked more natural, more proper on her.[/i]

"Why'd it get your interest today then?" [i] She questioned, head tilted slightly curiously as she sipped from her glass. She could tell something was wrong, that much was obvious. She just didn't know what, but she knew she was going to find out. [/i]

"Kills the memories." [i]He replied, a hurt smile crossing his lips. He knew she was going to ask, and likely chew him out for it. She wasn't one for self-loathing, and normally, neither was he. The Christmas season just made things rough on him.[/i]

"This is when you're dad was killed..wasn't it? Christmas time?" [i] She asks quietly. [/i]

"Christmas Day." [i]He said, raising his shot glass and downing the whiskey in one swift gulp. Compared to previous behavior, this was a new low for him, or maybe Riley just had never seen him during this time of year.[/i]

[i] She doesn't say anything for a moment, taking a drink from her glass. She knew saying sorry didn't help anything, and not much she could say would comfort him.[/i] "Tell me about him." [i] She says. [/i]

"W-what?" [i]He sounded surprised that she asked. He'd figured she was going to do what he had done when he first met her. Wolfe was expecting her to tell him to move on.[/i]

"Tell me about him." [i] She repeated, looking at him.[/i] "Tell me a good memory you have of your dad."

[i]Jackson sighed, looking over at the line of bottles on the shelf behind the bar, then back to Riley.[/i] "I think I was thirteen or fourteen at the time, but anyways, it was over Thanksgiving break, and we went hunting on the first day of deer season. It was cold, unnaturally cold, like snow and ice. I was up in the top of a tree securing the tree stand, he was working on the bottom of it. I must've moved the wrong way, and my foot slid out from under me, and went out of the tree backwards. Cut my arm open on a branch coming down, smashed my wrist too, knocked myself out when I hit the ground, but at least I landed in the snow and brush. I came to a few minutes later, and he was standing over me, had my arm wrapped in his jacket, and he picked me up to take me back to the truck. The whole time, he's going "Your mom's gonna kill me... your mom's gonna kill me..." We got to the hospital, and they cleaned up my arm, set my wrist in a cast, and took care of everything. Never once said anything about missing the first day of deer season... We got back home by the end of the day, and he stopped the truck in the driveway, and looked at me. I had just woken up, I slept the whole ride home. He sat there, and he said "Christ, I thought I'd lost you. I really thought I lost you woke up in the snow. Knew someone a long time ago who died falling out of a tree, worked as a logger after he left the Corps." He was so sincere about it." [i]Jackson said, running a hand through his hair.[/i]

[i] Riley nodded thoughtfully.[/i] "I'm glad that you had someone that cared for you. That loved you. I've never had someone like that." [i] She wasn't looking for pity, or wallowing in self-pity, but just stating a fact.[/i] "You know he wouldn't want you to do this to yourself. You're a soldier Jackson. Soldiers keep moving."