Closed Casket

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Red Eye!

Summary: A few years after Red Eye, Jackson Rippner is murdered protecting his wife. Now she struggles with saying good-bye to man she loves. JxL. One-shot.

It was a quiet funeral—only immediate family allowed.

His widow sat in the front with their young son seated beside her. The pastor rambled on about his accomplishments and what a good man he'd been and what a tragedy it was for someone to die before their time.

But the pastor was clueless. He'd never even known Jackson Rippner or what happened to him.

Only three people knew the truth and two of them were already dead.

"Three can keep a secret if two are dead" indeed, Lisa Rippner thought wryly.

She had been there the night her husband was slain. She'd held his broken body against her own as he took his last breaths.

"Don't… ever… tell…" he rasped; cold blue eyes locked on teary green.

Lisa had kept her promise. Even when the police badgered her as she lay there covered in his blood she's claimed amnesia.

Eventually, his death was reported as being part of a bizarre love triangle. The police assumed, based on circumstantial evidence, that the other man found dead had been having an affair with her. A lovers' quarrel had ensued and two men perished. If only the truth were that simple.

"Run, Lisa, run!" Jackson hissed urgently.

"What about you?"

"Don't worry about me, Leese. It's you they want. Go!"

Trembling, she scurried into the closet her husband was holding open. His eyes were frozen pools of ice and his right hand was already gripping his favorite knife.

"Jackson…please be careful."

"Ssh, Leese. Don't talk and don't come out no matter what."

She nodded and slipped inside the closet after giving him a quick kiss. Had she known those would some of their last moments together, she wouldn't have let go of him.

"It's going to be okay, Lisa. I love you…" he whispered as he closed the door, leaving her alone in the darkness.

Her heart raced as she listened to the scuffle outside the closet. Her husband was fighting someone to protect her. He'd never fully escaped the repercussions of the red-eye flight. Even seven years later, there were still plenty of people pissed at his betrayal. And they all knew that in order to hurt the "heartless" Jackson Rippner they had to go after his family and most specifically her.

Even their five-year-old son wasn't a target. She was however and he always protected her.

It grew quiet outside the closet and then she heard his distinctive yelp—like a puppy whose tail had been stepped on—and she ignored his warnings. She lifted a stack of clothes to uncover the gun he kept hidden in the closet and opened the door.

A man dressed all in black had pinned Jackson to the floor and her husband was motionless. Blood flowed from the back of his head and she wasn't fast enough to stifle the gasp that slipped from her lips.

The stranger turned to face her—smiling as he raised a blood-covered knife. Before he could act, she steadied the gun and shot him in the head.

She flung the gun aside and dragged his cut body onto her lap. She pressed her hand to the slashes on his chest and he moaned.

"Leese…"

"Ssh, it's going to be okay. You're going to be fine…"

He had to be fine. He was Jackson—he was her husband, her rock, her love. She couldn't get along in life without him.

"Leese…"

There was too much blood. It was all over him—a crimson sheen.

"Don't speak. Save your strength."

"Leese… I… love… you…"

"I know and I love you too. Keep fighting, Jackson…"

Why couldn't she hear any sirens? Where were the ambulances? The police? Anyone?

"Don't… ever… tell…"

"Why? Why not?"

"Don't… let… find… you…"

"Who?"

"Love… you…" His eyes were growing dim. So much blood.

"Don't leave me…" she whimpered. "I can't lose you."

He smiled at her, reached up to brush her cheek with a bloodstained finger and then closed his eyes.

Lisa broke down sobbing and she was still cradling his body when the police arrived an hour later.

"Mummy, where's daddy?" her son asked, his clear blue eyes staring directly into hers.

"Daddy's gone, sweetheart."

"Is he at work?"

Oh, Jackson, how am I supposed to explain this? Five-year-olds are not meant to understand death.

"No, honey, daddy's not at work."

"Then where is he?" He turned around looking for his absent father.

Lisa swallowed hard; her throat dry. "He's up there." She glanced at the polished wooden box containing Jackson's remains. It seemed so cold and impersonal.

You joked about a closed casket on the plane, but I don't think you ever assumed it would be you inside it one day…especially not so soon.

"What's that mean?"

"It means," Lisa lowered her voice as the pastor continued to speak, "that daddy's not coming back. Do you understand that?"

"Does he not love us anymore?" His lip was trembling and he looked like he was about to cry.

"No, he just can't come home. He's gone forever. He wants to be with us, but he's with God. Daddy's gone to Heaven with the angels."

"He's not coming back?"

"No, he can't. He can't come back."

"Why not?" He crossed his arms and pouted. "I want daddy!"

"Baby, daddy's dead. He can't come back."

"What's dead mean?"

She sighed. "Dead means daddy's in Heaven with the angels. He's happy up there and he's looking down and watching us."

"Oh." He looked down at his shiny shoes. "Can we say good-bye to daddy? Can he hear us?"

"Of course he can. Come with me."

Lisa stood up and held her hand out to her son. He took it and followed her up the casket. She released his hand and rested her head on the polished wood by where Jackson's chest should be.

"Hi, honey," she whispered to the casket. "It's me. Guess who's with me?"

"Is that daddy?"

She nodded. "In a sense."

"Can I talk to him?"

She bent down and lifted him up so that he could mimic her. He rested his head on the coffin lid and spoke to the wooden box as if it was his father. She couldn't help but smile, but she knew he would be confused. Over the next few weeks and months, she'd have to explain to him what had happened to Jackson and what exactly dead meant. But for the time being, he was semi-content and seemed to grasp the concept.

"He wants to talk to you," he whispered, turning around to face her.

"Okay."

Lisa helped him down and he stood beside her as she laid her head down again. "I know you can hear me and you're probably rolling your eyes right about now…but I don't care.

"I love you, Jackson. No matter what, I'll still love you. I have for years now and I will continue to for as long as I live. I just can't believe you were taken from us so suddenly. I don't know what I'll do without you by my side."

A tear escaped her eye and rolled down the polished wood. She sniffled.

"I won't ever forget. I won't tell either. No one needs to know that we aren't safe. I don't want to scare him. I don't want to hide either.

"But I will. I'll do it because you asked me to. I'll do it to keep us safe. You sacrificed so much for us and I won't let that be in vain.

"Good-bye, sweetheart. Sleep in peace."

She kissed the top of the box and stood back up. Her son reached for her hand and she took it.

"Bye, daddy," he called to the box. "Now can we go home?"

"Yes, now we can."

Silently they walked out of the church and into the sunlight; leaving the gloomy box and darkness behind. Jackson wouldn't want them to worship a clumsy slab of wood containing his body. He had continually told her that he didn't understand why people attended funerals.

But she did. It was a way to let go and start anew.

After all, that's what he would've wanted.

Author's Notes:

I'm back! It's been ages. I'm not sure how well this turned out, seeing as it came from a two-line jot that I made two months ago.

I think I've got one other one-shot in the works and then a sequel to Some Quality Time. I also just finished the novel version of Coldest Degree, which can be viewed on fictionpress under the same pen name.

Enjoy and please leave a review! Thanks for reading!

(EDITED -- February 1st, 2009)