Author's Note - This story was just for fun and I had nothing else better to do. I hope that whoever reads this they are able to enjoy it even just a little. I apologize before hand for any typos, etc. I will try my best to catch them before I post the chapters. Anyways, I have the entire story finished I just have to decide if I really want it to go that way and put up the chapters. I also want to apologize if this story completely bores you to death or you just simply don't like it. I try my best to entertain, but I mostly do this for fun. Enjoy.

Disclaimer - I do not own Jackson or Lisa nor anything from the movie Red Eye.

LEARNING TO BREATHE

CHAPTER ONE - THE DEVIL AND HIS CONFESSIONS

As each passing day goes by I feel that there is not a chance at finding justice. No one but me seems to see him or even come into contact with him. I am the only person he will show his face to. Though I have tried my hardest to lead him into a trap – agents in my house and ready – he just always knows when it is right to come.

Of course he never hurts me, or not physically that is. His verbal torture is an entirely different matter at hand. Part of me enjoys being the only person he actually cares enough about to keep a part of him known to the world, when no one else can even consider reasoning with him.

This would be fine if I knew he was not out killing innocent people. Wasn't out hurting others like he had once tried to hurt me and my loved ones. To him, it is all in the past and the present is all that matters. Maybe he is right, but as of lately he has grown more dangerous and much more unstoppable.

The FBI believe that I am their only hope and whenever he turns up I am to contact them immediately. Only I know him, and I also know that it is not easy when he is around to get help. I don't fear him any more, only startled occasionally.

All the red and blue lights are hurting my head as I sit on the small boulder embedded in the lush hill in front of the FBI building. I am to go to my house and wait for him. I did not pick that house to live in. He chose that house for me. He told me I would be safe and content there. It was also easier for him to keep tabs on me. Another thing the officials do not understand completely. He is very possessive over me. It makes me almost sick. When had he decided he wanted to give up the role as my tormentor to take over the role of my guardian?

No matter the when or why, he kept good care of me in an odd way. Several times I had been tossed into a dangerous situation where I might have died if not for him. For the simple things I need – such as a fridge full of food and a bathroom full of necessities – he has made sure to keep on top of everything. So I am greatly guilty to have to put him at risk. Has he been nothing but kind? Minus the constant verbal daggers he is always throwing my way.

"You can do this. I will back you up the entire way." Detective Nathan Clapp. Such an overly optimistic, middle-aged man. He is always reminding me of my father.

Clapp places his hand on my shoulder in hopes that he will finally get his man tonight. I am long past the humor and irony of the situation. Now it only pisses me off to go through this string of events once a week or even more. They just don't get it. They will never catch him. When they figure that out maybe their lives will be less complicated.

"Just stick to the plan. I have a good feeling about tonight." Clapp smiles down at me with warm brown eyes. I can only nod and smile back. All I want is to go home and sleep. He wont be there tonight. It's the one night I actually might get any sleep. I swear the man never closes an eye! Keeping me up all night long with his endless remarks and snide comments.

I take in a deep breath as I stand up and walk over to my car. It is a gift from the man of all this ruckus tonight. A dark grey Mercedes. He loves his cars, and loves even more to brag about them. This is one he had "lying around." Inside the car I turn on the radio, flipping through the different frequencies. It is the only way now to drown out my thoughts.

It doesn't take me long to get home and I have learned how to pick out which car or which pedestrian on the street is a undercover agent. Even to my less skillful eyes to this particular subject I can pick them out easily. Two cars followed me home and so far there were about five walking down the streets. I was positive he could see them from miles away, considering these are the kind of things he is an expert in. He wont be coming to visit tonight. He is no fool.

Only I have to go through protocol anyways, walking into my large glass house and up to my bathroom where I get ready for bed. As soon as I check all the doors and windows – a habit picked up since he first stopped by, not that it does much good – I finally hop into my bed and wrap myself up tightly in my blankets. I brought this on myself. The first night that he showed up had been a full out battle. I took most of the damage, bruised head-to-toe and dry blood decorating my body in the end. I had managed to get to the phone and dial the number to the police. He had hung it up quickly, soon after making his retreat. From then on I have had an officer on guard outside, that is how they found out he checked up on me regularly. He had decided to tease several of the officers on many different occasions. Eventually they were able to convince me to help them out. Turns out I am no help at all.

My thoughts quiet down after the first few hours and I am able to find sleep. It will be the first night in about three or four days that I will actually sleep. If I dream, that will be too much to ask for.

Sliding out of my torture-chambers-of-shoes I walk up my driveway to the large, gloomy house. It was built in a three story rectangular shape, making it look more like an office building than a home. Plus, I only use about four out of the twelve different rooms it has. The rest I simply ignore. Of course they are fully stocked. He has made sure I have all of the best things out there. He has plenty of money. Why not spoil me? No, it makes my skin boil. I don't touch anything I don't have to in order to make my point clear.

The entire back wall of the house is made of glass, a small meadow as a backyard and in the middle is a small river that runs through. There are no neighbors for a few blocks eac hdirection, which was only frightening at first. It no longer bothers me. Only makes it harder on the officials to do their job. They are forced to keep their distance.

Walking up the cobble stone steps, I take in the sweet smell of the garden surrounding the front yard. It really is a beautiful place here, it just isn't a place I can feel comfortable. Maybe only because I know I am bound to this place until the shackles are removed. I have very little hope in that happening anytime soon.

After I enter the large house and lock the front door, I flip on the light to the hallway. Wonder where you might be tonight? Living room, maybe? I am no longer cautious when I move around my house. He wont hurt me.

Walking into the living room I take a quick glance around. No one in here tonight. Not for the moment anyways. So I drop my purse on the long black sofa and head off into the kitchen. I can smell the pot of coffee before I even get to the open arched doorway. A groan of irritation escapes my lips. Because he needs more caffeine. I think sarcastically as I move into the large kitchen.

He is leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in his one hand. It's not hard to ignore him as I cross the room to where the fridge sits and I pull out a bottle of water. I can feel his stare. He enjoys to speculate every little move I make, finding ways to use it against me later on.

"You look tired." I ignore his mockery, hearing the cruel tremor in his assumption. Yes, I am very tired.

Taking a seat at the table I pick up the stack of mail. They are all ads. I am sure he has already grabbed all the bills. I wonder if he looked at them yet? A smile creeps along my lips as I think about how I racked up the minutes on my cell.

"Not even a friendly 'hello'?" His teasing voice echoes through the kitchen and I reluctantly look up, tossing the mail back onto the table.

"Hello." I spit out in an unfriendly tone. It makes him snicker. The light from the moon outside cascading across the darkened room makes me notice how dangerous he really is. How wrong Jackson Rippner can be. A man with no mercy, and no remorse. A monster in the world's eyes whom gets high off the sight of fresh blood drawn. Jackson Rippner basks in the fear of others.

He cocks his head to the side and sighs in exasperation. "We need to talk, Leese." My nickname is now something I use as my real name. Lisa Reisert has significantly changed thanks to this man. Now, Lisa was at his beck and call.

"Then talk." Everything seems to revolve around him now. Jackson is in control whenever he is around. I don't think I will ever see the day when someone else takes that power from him. It is what scares everyone the most. No matter how hard you try to fight for the control, in the end, Jackson will always have it.

My heart picks up a little as he moves closer to me and I grow angry at myself. I can hate him, I can want him dead...but I will always be drawn to him. And he knows that.

Taking a seat across from me, Jackson clasps his hands together on the wooden surface. His clear, icy blue eyes never break away from mine. The little light the moon gives me is only enough to light up his hands in front of me. The hands of a perfect killer...

"I don't like that I have to work around your friends in order to see you." His tone is still mocking but I know he is serious beneath that. I have learned to recognize it through all his sarcasm. That's why the two of us understand the other so easily. With so much practice, understanding comes almost effortlessely.

"My friends?" I glower at him. "They wouldn't know about you if you hadn't went and made yourself so visible."

"This not only bothers me that they are around, but it bothers you as well. Trust me, you're not that hard to figure out." His eyes glittered in the moonlight, making me shiver. My hands itch to reach out and touch him. Just a quick brush. Or maybe I could justify the touch with a slap?

"It's no longer in my hands, Jack."

"Either you take care of this shit or I do it my way." He warns and I have to fight not to let my mouth drop in horror.

"You wouldn't take on the entire agency." Oh my god, he is going to kill them all!

"But I will if that is what it takes to get rid of them."

"You're crazy." I am skeptical now as I sat across from this being with no limits.

"And you're very unobservant." He smiles one of my most favorite crooked grins, easing my hysterics slightly. I stare at him with curious eyes. Jackson leans back in his chair as he waits for me to catch on. Looking him over quickly I see nothing out of the ordinary. He wears a black button down shirt, with the sleeves pushed up past his elbows. He has on a decent pair of jeans with a leather belt. His hair partly in his eyes, his usual watch strapped to his left arm. It is...so Jackson. Nothing unusual, nothing different.

His sudden change of topic is odd for him. He seems almost impatient.

I am at a loss...

"Uh..." Chocking a little as I shake my head in question, I shrug.

Jackson stands, laughing. He sobers up, casually moving over to the large window in the back of the house. "I brought you something."

I exhale with much exaggeration. "If it isn't a gun then don't bother."

"You could never shoot me even if it was." He looks over his shoulder at me with that same smile I love. It helps soften the mood, making me a little more willing to listen to him and not argue. Of course, he knows that as well.

"Don't underestimate the female mind. They are emotionally based, remember?" I contradict as I stand to join him. Only now do I notice the red box sitting on the kitchen counter.

"It's more of a...bribe. In a way." His lips stay frozen in my smile, making it hard for the anger to resurface. Picking up the box I examine it carefully.

I decide I want to make him wait as long as possible. "Oh, Jack. How sweet. You got me a box. It's gorgeous, I absolutely love it."

He only chuckles at my joke, twisting his body around and shoving his hands in his pockets. "Shall I leave now and come back tomorrow? Maybe by then you will be ready to open your gorgeous box."

I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. He isn't himself tonight. He seems...calmer, maybe even a little serious about this all. Usually he likes to be serious in a non-serious way. It makes my heart race yet again.

"There's more?" I attempt to keep up the game just a little longer.

"Just open the gift."

Placing my fingers on the lid, I begin to pull it off, stopping for a second. "Is it a bomb?" I playfully gaze up at him as I pretend to try and peek at the bottom of the box.

"Do you honestly think I would off you in such a simple manner?" His words are playful as well, but they have more effect on my mind than they should. "Plus, why would I still be standing here if that was a bomb?" So maybe he isn't in a very cheery mood tonight. Great! Crabby killer to deal with for another eight hours.

"Alright, I will open it." I pull the lid all the way off now, lifting the ball of tissue out of the box. Unwrapping it carefully, I grow more curious about the gift and Jackson's lack of his usual humor tonight. It is a glass angel.

Tossing the empty box and tissue paper back on the counter, I examine it more closely. She has white feathers for wings that move delicately in the little breeze from the cracked window. Her eyes are made of blue topaz, reflecting the bright moon. She is bent over a human, holding the man in her arms. But she is crying, and the man appears to be lifeless. It is a beautiful gift...but it has me confused.

Looking up at Jackson – who now stands behind my shoulder peering down at the angel – I open my mouth to speak. He stops me by answering my unspoken question.

"I know that you like angels. When I saw it, well, it reminded me of you and I thought you might enjoy it." He smooths out the feathery wings with his fingers, his arm against mine as he does.

"Thank you." It takes everything I have not to grab his hand and hold it in mine. Just to feel the warmth of his skin...if only for a second.

"You're welcome."

Clearing my throat, I smile. "I don't suppose an assassin such as yourself would enjoy a movie?"

"There's more-"

"Yeah. Yeah. More to you than just an assassin. Both kill for a living, do they not?" We've had this argument an endless amount of times, and tonight I would rather keep him in this new mood then angry or just himself. "Maybe you will fall asleep." I hopefully say and he laughs.

We head for the living room. I set the angel on top of one of the shelves, hurrying over to the cabinet full of movies. Something I love to do is watch movies. So there are many to choose from in my large collection. Jackson has also started to bring movies home for me.

"Nothing pathetic or I might just fall asleep." He sits down on the couch, crossing his ankles. "You would absolutely love that, wouldn't you?"

"I don't see how you last so long." I mumble as I considered Titanic. Scanning each row of movies, I finally came to one. City Of Angels. It seems appropriate for tonight. Not that Jackson strikes me as a very emotional person. He probably will hate it if he hasn't already seen it. But he was the one who gave me the angel in the first place.

"Okay." I pop the movie into the ancient VCR, pressing play and turning the TV on quickly. Jackson takes in my every move as usual as I plop down onto the couch beside him.

"A surprise preview?" He teases lightly, still staring at me. It makes me uncomfortable.

"You'll see." I smugly smile, which makes him laugh. He knows it is some "chick flick" or sappy love story. Something he will never admit to ever watching. Jackson grunts in his "oh no" tone, the title of the movie appearing across the screen.

"Not this movie...it's pathetic." He complains, his head falling against the back of the couch.

"Just shut up and watch it...or you could go to sleep." I tag on, raising my eyebrows in hope. All I want really is to sleep tonight. But of course that isn't going to happen.

Jackson says nothing more about it, just glaring at the TV screen until it draws closer to the end of the movie. I hate the ending to this, but it is still one of my favorites. I am actually surprised Jackson hasn't fallen asleep just because of his lack of interest in the movie. Then again, he is Jackson and never lets me off that easy.

I am now on my side with my head craddled in my hands, propped up on the arm of the sofa. Through the entire movie, Jackson has kept his position, which catches my attention more so than the movie itself. How could he stand to stay frozen so long?

He side glances over at me, finally unfolding his arms and stretching them above him as if he can hear what I am thinking. I focus on the movie again.

"I talked to someone today." I'm startled by his comment. Glancing down at him my eyes become slits.

"Okay, so did I. A lot of people, as a matter of fact." My throat is thick from not talking for so long.

Jackson snickers but continues to look at the TV. He really does look tired tonight. "Yes, but he made me realize something."

I sit up weakly, my head a little light from lying down. It passes quickly. "You are just trying to avoid watching the rest of this movie."

His smile widens and my heart stops for a quick moment. Even in the dark I can see his perfect smile. His attention still on the movie, though he isn't really seeing the movie. "And I started to think about you."

"What did you talk about?" My curiosity has the best of me.

"How I should appreciate what I have and not take it for granted." None of this makes much sense. Jackson never talked to me in such depth. He has always felt it made him look weak.

My eyes wander to the movie and then back to his face. He turns then, locking gazes. "How I need to appreciate being able to have you." My jaw dropped in confusion. What?

"Jack, knock it off. We already know that-"

"Leese." He cuts me off, straightening up so he can meet my eye level. I have my legs folded under me and my body is turned towards him. "I realized today that everything in my life is you. Since I met you I wondered if it was usual to have my entire world revolve around one person. I tried to explain it by telling myself it was because I had spent too much time observing you,"

The memory makes me wince. I still wonder how much he had seen those eight weeks while watching me.

"...but I know now that there is more to it." He stares at his hands as he says this. Trying to see it clearly in his own mind. "I have been dying to find the answer to all my misery lately. And it's because I just hadn't seen it before. When I am away from you the feeling of...anxiety, or anger is so much more intense. I've never realized until now that I had you in my reach, the happiness that I need, crave, is right there for me to take." I shut my mouth as he looks up at my face. "I wont let you go, and now I realize it's because I have wanted you all along. That's why I have kept you where I can find you. So I don't loose you."

"You...want me?" I am bewildered. Jackson chuckles, sitting up straight as he cautiously brings his hand up to my cheek.

"I have done a lot of things I regret and I know I cannot redeem myself for what I have done in my past. But I am sorry." His hot breath against my face, he caresses me in a teasing manner. His face, his eyes, his lips...they are so close to my own. The heat of his hand warms the side of my face, his palm curved to match the shape of my left cheek.

He studies my face, judging my reaction thoroughly. My breath catches as he leaned in and tenderly presses his lips against mine. My lips move with his softly, the moment frightening and yet so mesmerizing. This shouldn't feel good...but it does.

I moan in involuntary disappointment as he brakes away from my lips, his mouth curved into a smile. He whispers sadistically in my ear, tormenting me as if I cann't bare what he is doing to me already. "Are you afraid of me?" His question makes me take note in my posture. I am stiff, not breathing normally.

"No." I lie. I am very afraid of him. I am afraid of us.

He sees through my lie, kissing me lightly again. "What scares you the most?"

"Nothing." My heart pounds in my ears and I can no longer breathe. He moves closer to me, his arm slinking around my waist. His other hand still holds my face gently. I panic without knowing what to fear. I know something is wrong, but I can't remember why I should be running away from this man.

As he crushes his lips to mine, I start to shy away. This isn't right. And everything from the last few months comes rushing into perspective. The flight I shared with this man as we headed towards Miami from Dallas. The never ending pain he had put me through, the chase when I arrived home. My father's worried face. And the knife Jackson had swung at me several times before he threw me over a flight of stairs. It all came back...the fear just as great now as it had been then.

I can feel the terror as if I were right back in that moment. The gun! It's right there! He is coming down the stairs and I struggle to crawl over to the gun. I can see the light reflecting off his knife as he takes the last stair around the corner. My hand wraps around the gun and I spin around, pressing my back to the dresser in the hall. It's aimed directly at him, and he stills against the door, the knife held up in his murderous hand.

Jackson is no longer kissing me, instead he is taking in my fearful expression. I don't know what he sees on my face, nor do I care much at this moment. He is the reason why I am afraid. This is what he had been trying for. Jackson had wanted me to fear him all along: on the plane, in the plane lavatory, at my father's house. Now I can never go back to just being...normal. Or what I knew as normal. It's been so long since I have felt normal. Would I even be able to live without him in my life?

I feel his grip on my waist loosen and he lays me down carefully before he stands up. Everything inside me is torn. I want him as much as I hate him. That is why we can never be together. And that is why I can so easily hate him. Hate him for everything he has forced me to endure.

Jackson moves over to the kitchen counter that separates the living room and the kitchen. Taking his jacket off the chair it is slung over, he shrugs into it, staring ahead of him. His jaw is clenched tightly shut, the muscles in his jaw flexing in and out. I can tell he is angry, but I honestly don't care. I hope he is hurting. Hurting because that is all I feel every single day of my life.

As he heads towards the hall, I notice he is trying very hard not to look back or even say something to me. It is almost impressive that he makes it through the front door and outside without a word or a single glance. It's more impressive to me that I can be stronger than I have always given myself credit for.

He may be angry...but I am jubilant! I can be stronger than Jackson Rippner.