Red Eye Reconciliation

Summary: Sequel to Red Eye Revelations.Jackson is in hospital, recovering from the gunshots. Lisa is unharmed, but barely hanging on. None of them can stop thinking about the events during and after the red eye-flight to Miami. Rated M for upcoming mature content.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Jackson and Lisa; they are just too good not to develop a little further. And, oh yeah, if I WAS Wes Craven; I'd do a sequel!

Feedback: If I could ask for anything…. Yes, please. That's what keeps us writers going. It's our fuel, our inspiration, our support.

-

-

Chapter 1 I'll Always Find You

-

They had to lift her off him.

As they took him away, Lisa finally let her dad embrace her in his safe arms. She kept her eyes locked with Jackson's unreadable blue until he was out of sight. Listening to the sounds of the sirens as the ambulance drove off, the same question kept repeating in her mind.

Why?

-

-

The first day passed in a blur, there was so much work to do. The police had to follow Lisa back from Blossom Palms Lane to the hotel, to be able to start questioning her; she was unstoppable when something called for her attention, and Cynthia and the Lux Atlantic needed her - badly.

Maybe she needed the Lux Atlantic and Cynthia badly as well…

She had the police on her tail almost the whole day, which annoyed her to no end. They even called in a psychologist and a doctor, thinking Lisa was in shock and needed medical as well as psychological help.

It was possible she was in shock, but she didn't want anybody's attention.

Instead she fought them off. She needed to work – she had to do something to fill the void within that grew with every breath she took.

"Miss Reisert." The doctor tried to make her stop, but he ended up running alongside her, panting, his heavy body unable to keep up with Lisa's efficient strides. "What you've been through - it will take time to heal, and you need – gasp - to give it that time." He stopped for a while, supporting himself against a wall with a hand. When he realized that Lisa was once again ahead of him, he lengthened his steps. "You're suffering from PTSD, Miss, post-traumatic-stress-disorder, and you need to listen to me."

YOU are going to suffer from LIPB – Lisa Induced Pain in the Butt - if you don't get off my BACK! And I'm a good fighter, ask Jackson Rippner.

Lisa halted; little red angry spots had appeared on her cheeks.

"No, no, YOU need to listen to me!" She nailed him for a moment, her intense brownish green eyes flashed. "I KNOW what I've been through, and I know what needs to be done."

Suddenly she looked very tired. Only three hours had passed since Jackson had been lying, bleeding and weak on her dad's marble floor. The memory of the sight didn't leave her for one second. Is he…alive… dead… hurting…

"Leave me alone, doc. I'll call you if I need you… OK?" she said a little softer. Then she left the doctor with a face like a pale full moon, alone in a corridor in the middle of the giant hotel, gaping and wondering what hit him.

Finally they left her alone.

Lisa could be very persuasive.

After meeting with a grateful Keefe, fighting off absurd hotel guests complaining about the mess the missile had created, and having briefed her shocked staff, she and Cynthia opened the bar. It was ten a.m. Opening a bottle of the best champagne, they celebrated the successful outcome of the horrible morning.

The simple fact that they were all alive.

An indefinable feeling of loss nagged at Lisa the whole time, though. She wondered if Jackson was still alive, if he was in pain, and what he would do to her if he somehow got free.

'I wanted him to see what I'm gonna do to you first…' 'Too late, Leese…'

Jackson's words still rang in her ears and they chilled her heart. Lisa had no doubt that she'd be in a very real danger… if… unless…

Still she couldn't even finish the thought that he might be dead.

Cynthia's huge green eyes grew even wider as Lisa told her hour by hour what had happened. Lisa played with the thought of telling Cynthia the full extent of her encounter with Jackson, but she was afraid that if she put words to her feelings, they would grow. If anything, they needed to diminish – evaporate.

Lisa wasn't very effective that afternoon and evening. The sleep deprivation and the alcohol co-worked to slow her down. She was still able to make arrangements with the insurance company as well as with a building contractor, so the outcome of the disastrous day wasn't so bad after all.

Not until around ten p.m. did Lisa set foot in her home again – in her own beautiful small beach house. She hadn't seen it since morning two days ago.

It felt like ages.

Without brushing her teeth, she stumbled to bed and fell on the cover, not even bothering with her shoes. She was so tired; she knew she wouldn't have any troubles falling asleep.

And then sleep refused to come.

She tried reading a book, but was unable to concentrate. She did everything; brushed her teeth, changed into her pyjama and drank a glass of warm milk - and later a small scotch - and much later a large scotch.

Tossing and turning in bed, she watched the hours pass on the red digital numbers on her alarm clock, listening to the sounds of the ocean outside. It was humid and still windy and as her house shook, she re-lived the experiences on the bumpy airplane the previous night, seeing Jackson's bright blue eyes before her – friendly and beaming, or cold and deadly.

Finally, falling in and out of sleep, she had vivid dreams. They all involved Jackson, and they all ended differently. In some of them he killed her in various ways. In some her dad was killed. In some Jackson died. In some he raped her… and in a few she consented…

Pulling her head back by her hair, Jackson stared enraged at her. Lisa's eyes widened in fear as she saw that there was no soul in his blue eyes, they were as empty as if nothing had ever lived there. She tried to scream, but he crushed his lips on hers. At first she became aroused, then he tore his face away from her, and in his mouth she saw a piece of her own flesh. Lisa screamed then-

- and woke.

"Dad?" she shouted. She was back in the kitchen. Running frantically to get past a wheezing Jackson, she almost stumbled over her father who lay with his face down on the floor. "I wanted him to see what I'm gonna do to you first," Jackson hissed with his wounded vocal cords. Lisa flipped her dad over and screamed and screamed. Instead of his eyes there was just gaping holes. Looking up at Jackson, she scrambled backwards in terror as she saw him holding her father's eyes in his hand. Lisa fell-

-out of her bed, entangled in her sheets and in full panic.

Jackson looked admiringly at her. "You are the most amazing woman, Leese." He kissed her on the forehead and she felt flutters of delight surge through her belly. Her skin burned where he had touched it. He threaded his fingers through her hair and gripped it firmly, but not painfully. "Just don't ever lie to me." Then he sank down on her and she could feel him closer than she had ever felt any man before. As he began to climax, buried deep inside of her, Lisa moaned louder and louder-

-until she woke.

No, no, no, NO!

Each time she woke, she was sweaty, wrapped in her sheets and swearing that she would bury everything about Jackson deep inside and never look at it again.

The next few days followed pretty much the same pattern of long days with hard work, interrupted by attempts at evading the media that haunted her, and random interrogations, mostly with a nice police investigator named Turner. Officer Dean Turner. He became a regular visitor at the hotel and sometimes in her home the following weeks up until the hearing and her days in court; investigating the events leading up to the murder attempt at the Keefe's. He was a gentle, shy, balding man in his forties, and it was obvious that he liked Lisa – a lot. The feelings weren't mutual.

And Lisa couldn't sleep.

-

-

One week after the red-eye flight, she collapsed at work, crying and exhausted. Her dad picked her up and drove her to their family doctor, Dr Wender. She had known him since she was a child. Lisa wanted so much to please him and answer his careful questions, but she was still unable to tell what really hurt her, what the severe insomnia was really about.

Leaving Dr Wender with a prescription for sleeping pills, she felt like she had lost it. She had believed she had won the battle against Jackson when, in reality, she had lost it.

And finally, she slept, heavily dreamless.

Taking a few days off, she wandered for hours along the ocean, always freezing even if it was sunny and warm weather. Jackson was alive – and he was going to live. Turner had promised her that Jackson would face a long time in jail and that she had nothing to worry about.

You don't know the meaning of worry.

In a moment of weakness, she drove to the hospital where Jackson was being held and slowly recovering. She even took a coffee in the cafeteria. It was a breathtaking feeling, knowing he was in this very building.

Suddenly, she saw his eyes as clear as if he was sitting in front of her. Shuddering, she rose quickly. Lisa leaved the foyer in a hurry, rushing back to her car with an eerie feeling of being watched.

-

-

Four weeks after the events on the Red Eye-flight to Miami, there was a trial while Jackson was still at the hospital. They were never able to find out who the men on the ship had been, or who had ordered the murder, and Jackson was the only one in the secret organisation he worked for that could be prosecuted. Investigations continued of course, but the evidence against Jackson was overwhelming and at least he could be trialled.

He was sentenced to eight years in prison. No one had died, and he himself had been seriously injured, which made the jury pity him. Also he'd had a clean record from before and the prosecutor had been unable to prove that Jackson was a notorious criminal.

Lisa never had a doubt, though. He'd known perfectly well what he'd been doing.

Jackson didn't say a word during or after the trial. If he had, though – if he'd put on that irresistible charm, he would probably have had to serve half the time in jail.

Why didn't he?

As Lisa testified, he looked up from his hospital bed, where he could follow the courtroom events via live transmission. His pale face was closed, serious, not showing any emotion what so ever, and Lisa felt like he looked directly at her. His eyes, the blue in them impossible to see through the screen, bore into her. To her they held a promise – or a threat. The promise of a threat…

It was impossible of course.

He couldn't see her.

Lisa never spoke to anyone about her and Jackson's… – more personal encounters. She tried to avoid thinking of them at all, but still they haunted her, in her dreams as well as during daytime. It was like they shared something she could never explain to anyone. She suspected Jackson might know what she felt, though…

Not that she would ever ask him.

And the void grew.

-

-

Just a couple of days after the sentence had fallen, Jackson was considered well enough to be transported to prison.

The car was found later, the two guards had their throats slashed.

Jackson was gone.

-

-

Late that evening, when Lisa was watching an old movie, the phone rang. Muttering, she got up. "All right, all right. I'm coming." She lifted the phone. "Hello."

At the other end of the line there was just a static noise. "Hello!" No one answered. Well, even if it's the wrong number, just say so! She hung up and got back to her movie.

A minute later it called again. She rushed to the phone, slightly agitated. "Yes, who is this?" Still the same static noise filled her ear. Perv! A flicker of worry shadowed her heart for a moment and she glanced out her windows at the darkness outside, seeing nothing but her own reflection.

A couple of minutes later the phone rang once more. Lisa jumped and snapped the phone out of its holder. "What!" she snarled.

"Eh.. Hi, I'm sorry to bother you at this late hour. It's Dean Turner, I – It's… I need to speak with you." The man at the other end stumbled on his words and Lisa felt bad for being so harsh.

"Officer Turner, I'm sorry, I – Eh… Did you call just a minute ago?"

"No… I didn't. Why?"

"Oh, nothing." She shrugged it off. "What did you want to tell me?"

"It's about Jackson -"

Lisa froze; this was the call she'd feared for so long. He's dead!

"- during the transport to the prison earlier tonight…" Turner hesitated. "Ms Reisert, he's escaped and I fear for your safety."

Oh – My – God! Lisa sank down onto the nearest chair, her legs too weak to carry her.

"Lisa?" She could hear the worry in his voice.

"Where is he? Do you think he's coming for me?" What a stupid question, Leese!

"We don't know that. It wouldn't be very clever, because we'll put surveillance on you, but given the obvious – that he tried before… Perhaps you shouldn't be alone right now, until we know more."

Oh, but he IS clever.

Lisa nodded and rose so hastily that she felt dizzy. "I'll pack my stuff."

"You want me to come by and drive you someplace?"

"No, no… it's… I'll be fine. I have somewhere to go."

After hanging up, Lisa rushed through her home with a frightening feeling of being watched.

It was him.

The call.

She knew it with a certainty that scared her. Her scar itched, the almost-healed fissure in the rib ached and she was quickly developing a headache. Her whole body was trying to tell her the same thing.

It was HIM!

Her heart pounded as she hastily packed a bag with some necessities. What does he want? A part of her wanted him to find her, to – no, she didn't know WHAT she wanted…

She saw him in front of her in their last moments together. The look on his face… And the KISS.

'Too late, Leese.' His words rang in her ears. No, all he wanted was to see her die.

To 'finish the job'.

Exceeding most speed limits as she drove her SUV through town, she went to her job. She'd sleep in the office. With all the people around, she felt safe enough. Going to her dad's was out of the question; she couldn't put him in danger all over again.

Tomorrow… I'll figure out what to do.

The night portiere, Jake something, looked surprised when she showed up at this hour. She waved at him, but didn't bother to give him any explanation. It was none of his business.

Borrowing some sheets, a blanket and a pillow, she made a bed out of her couch. It was quite OK, actually. She didn't know how long she would stay, she'd sleep here tonight and then she'd think it over. She could go to her mom's… or ask the police to help her… She loathed that, though, she didn't want to give up her life because HE threatened her. She wanted him to know that she wasn't scared, that he couldn't win.

Slowly, she settled as she let the sleeping pill she'd taken have its effect. After a while, she fell into a deep sleep with dark dreams she didn't remember the next morning, haunted by demons with eerie blue eyes.

Jackson, please don't kill me.

-

-

Jackson was eternally grateful to his associates that had gotten him out of the transport.

He had been expecting it of course, they were a tight little organisation and every soul was needed as they each had their own special field of knowledge. He hadn't heard a word during his long stay at the hospital, which had worried him. He surely hadn't planned on spending eight years in jail.

Now they had some work to do. They needed to hack into the systems, erasing his records – to once more clean his slate; then they had to sort this mess with Keefe out, see what needed to be done to mend the mistake.

And then there were his issues with a certain little redhead hotel manager with a temper that could start or end world wars…

The very first thing he had done, after they had dropped him off outside his place, was to call Lisa Reisert. He wanted her to know. He wanted her to be afraid – because he WAS coming for her.

Not a single day – not a single fucking hour – had gone by without him thinking of her. He'd had time to plan his revenge on her. Initially, it had revolved around blood shedding, to hurt her in different ways, even to rape her, to punish her by re-playing the worst moment of her life, the thought still made him feel...

Rape wasn't really about sex, though, it was only one of many ways to execute power. With Lisa it would be low - way too low. He could overpower her in more refined ways than that…

As he was finally free, he realised he simply wanted her.

Not bleeding - unless necessary, not seriously wounded, not dead…

Just – to steal her… Not really on the professional level, though…

She had definitely saved her own life at that last moment in her dad's house by caring for Jackson's, whatever her reasons had been for that. Plain humanity perhaps – or something more? It had, however, mended something that a couple of seconds earlier had appeared eternally broken. It was even possible that he had her to thank for still breathing.

And now she had fled to her hotel.

Smart first move, Leese.

Let the game begin.

-