Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain.
The Other Kind of Ashes
Jackson Rippner, ex-assassin extraordinaire, could be frighteningly domestic when it came to haunting, Lisa Reisart thought to herself as she looked up from her newspaper to see the form of her ex-tormentor propped up on one of the living-room chairs.
He'd developed a perpetual scowl that only seemed to heighten the blue in his eyes and the almost unnatural size of his lips. More than once she'd had to resist telling him that if he stuck out his bottom lip any further, a bird might come and land on it. Was it her grandmother that had told her that, originally?
She let her eyes fall back to the caption of the photograph: G8 Summit to take place next week…
A sudden yelp brought her out of the newspaper; she looked up to see Jackson sprawled on the floor.
"Uh…Jack?"
He let out a long chain of swear words, followed by "…reclining handle!"
She raised her eyebrows and peered at the chair. Apparently he'd pulled the lever for the reclining function of his chair in the wrong direction, and it had flung him halfway across the room.
"You're lucky you didn't hit a wall." she said dryly, putting her paper down with a sigh and kneeling down beside him. "Mind you, would you have actually hit it, or would you've gone right through it?"
He gave her a very dangerous look. "If you're trying to be funny, it's not working."
She shook her head. "Believe you me, if I was trying to be funny, I wouldn't be making fun of you. Besides which; why are you still here? Shouldn't you have moved on by now?"
"You've seen too many movies." Jackson groaned, getting to his feet. "Being dead is just like being alive, but only a few people can see you."
"Well, why are you haunting me?"
He didn't answer her for a few moments.
"Other than the fact that you're the only one who can see me…" he paused. "At least, if I stay here, I can actually pretend I'm still alive. Interact."
She chuckled. "Yeah…I suppose. But no amount of sweet-talking is ever going to change your sleeping arrangements. Couch. I'm going to bed." she stood up, stretched slightly, and walked off.
Rolling his eyes, Jackson climbed onto the couch with a grunt. "What, don't I get a good-night kiss?"
The only response was a light chuckle.
The cliché of how dark it was when all the lights were turned off was completely lost on Jackson until he was awakened by a small flashlight in his face.
With a roar of pain he covered his eyes and curled up; however when this derived no other response but the light moving on, he uncovered his face and peered after the tiny, bobbing light in the gloom. As his eyes stopped throbbing and re-adjusted to the darkness of the room, he focused on the man holding the light.
Quirking an eyebrow and walking around beside the stranger, Jackson began firing questions at him. No response.
However it was only when the man pulled out a knife and began to walk up the stairs that Jackson realized this wasn't a burglar; it was a murderer.
"Shit. Lisa!" he called out, pushing past the man on the stairs. "Lisa, wake up!"
With a sudden shock, he realized that he'd actually had to push the man out of the way. As he blinked and stared at his hands in the blackness, Lisa appeared at the top of the stairs, housecoat over her pajamas.
Lisa started back with a cry; but as the man lunged forward Jackson pushed him backwards. He fell down the rest of the stairs on his back, head-first, landing in a heap at the very bottom. His neck was at a very odd angle to his body, and the knife lay on the floor beside his hand.
"Shit." he said again, standing in the middle-landing of the stairs, shaking slightly with confusion and nerves.
Lisa rushed down to stand beside him, almost afraid to touch him. "What's going on?"
"There's someone after your life. And it's not someone I recognize." Jackson led her down the stairs and began to go through the man's pockets. "Nothing! No ID, no papers, no nothing."
Lisa hugged her housecoat closer. "Was he alone?"
Jackson let out a very long breath. "I don't know. We could search the house, but if you'll remember when I was on the other side of that knife…"
She nodded quickly, unable to stop a shuddering yawn. "So…should we just go?"
"No. Does your bedroom door lock?"
"Yes…"
"C'mon then." he said, gently pushing her back up the stairs. "Go back to bed. We'll sweep the room, and then you can lock yourself in. I'll stay outside the door, just remember not to trip over me in the morning."
"Oh, no, don't – don't do that." she said, tugging his hand as they checked the room and determined it was murderer-free. "Just sit, okay?" she got back down into her bed, making him sit beside her on top of the blankets. "Just sit."
He gave her a weird look, and then chalked it up to her being half-awake. "You don't need company while you're sleeping, Leese…"
But it didn't matter because she had already fallen back asleep.
Jackson sighed and leaned back against the mountain of pillows. This was awkward, but at the same time, it felt comfortable – and not just because of the pillows and blankets. But he couldn't fall asleep.
He looked at the readout on the digital clock. 2:38 am.
Morning was a long way away…
To Be Continued...
Note: Sorry it took so long for this to be posted, but yes – it is a sequel, and yes, the rest of it will be rated M for mature. This may include, but is not limited to, sex, extreme violence, gore, and enough plot twists to blow your brains out. You have now been warned.