Black Swans
By Syrinx
Summary: This is the unnatural progression of things.
A/N: Sequel to Old Scars. J/L.
Disclaimer: Red Eye isn't mine, nor are the characters.

Prologue: Rome
Present

The windows were open. Warm air seeped into the room and brushed lightly against the cotton curtains, making them tremble softly against the window pane. The room was simple. A queen size bed sat against one plain wall, an antique bedside table pressed next to it. On the opposite side of the room sat a large desk, stained dark, covered in papers, folders, and a glowing laptop that sat open with a standard screen saver moving across its face.

The apartment itself was old. All four rooms of it were of hard wood floors with dust accumulating in the corners, and the windows had no screens. Who knew what could crawl into the apartment when the windows were open.

She had noticed these things when she'd first been introduced to them. The thing about Lisa was that she didn't care. The breeze flowing through the open windows was dry and warm, and the sheets on the bed were crisp and clean. These were the only things she registered, being half awake in the late hours of morning.

Well, not the only things.

He loved her skin. He never seemed to grow tired of touching her, moving his calloused fingers over the curve of her calves, the ridges of her ribcage, the soft dip and rise of her back. She inhaled as he inspected her, searching out imperfections. There was nothing imperfect about her, save the one mar; the one blemish that crossed her skin as a pale, angry reminder of the past. This they never spoke of. Never discussed, never gave notice. It was comforting to her, that he'd have her without dragging her past up and throwing it into the spotlight.

She stretched on her side of the bed, dug her toes into the mattress and pressed her palms into the headboard. Yawning, she rolled onto her stomach, giving him access to her back. He loved to trace up and down her spine, and in the haze of sleep she felt him already dragging a knuckle down her skin, pushing away the clean sheet to bare her back to him.

The sounds of the city were whispering through the windows. Horns, voices, a busy Saturday morning of people going to markets and enjoying the day off. She listened to them, waking up without opening her eyes. He was nudging the sheet down to her hips, exposing her back to the morning air as he pushed himself up on a forearm, hovering over her. She imagined him with a small smirk on his face, dark hair falling into his eyes, as he bent to push her auburn curls to the side and brush his lips across the nape of her neck.

She smiled to herself, hiding it in the feather pillow, refusing to open her eyes just yet. He kissed her shoulder, being softer than usual, putting a hand on the small of her back and rubbing his thumb across her skin.

She stretched again, refusing to quite emerge from the stupor of sleep. He let out a breath, moved his hand to her naked hip and grasped just hard enough to let her know that he knew she was awake. Still she didn't open her eyes. The breeze felt too nice on her skin, the morning light was too soft, and she was hoping he might start kissing her back again. Of course, he threw her for a loop. He was always so good at that.

"Leese," he mumbled against her neck, brushed his nose against her skin. "This has to stop now."

That was when she opened her eyes.