Handled

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

Summary: The red-eye's over. Jackson's in the hospital and Lisa is left alone to pull herself together. She is changed and does not know what to do with herself. But then Jackson comes back and things change.

Prologue

She knew that she should change her life; her routine. But she could not bring herself to do it. Why should she have to live her life in fear? She had beaten Jackson Rippner and she had no excuse to be afraid of him or of anyone else.

Jackson would want his short-lived appearance to affect her, to change her, to ultimately control her. He was gone from her life, healing in some hospital as he awaited trial for his crimes, never to return to torment her. He had broken her shell, her safety net, and released the real her that had been hidden inside ever since the rape.

She was the new and improved Lisa: defiant and unafraid. She was not going to let him rule her life. She had defied him and won, saving her father and the Keefes from his brutal plan. She fought back and now she could not stop fighting.

She had returned to her job at the Lux Atlantic, only to find that it did not suit her anymore. She no longer wanted to take, or listen to, anyone's bullshit. She promptly quit the same day, a few weeks after the red-eye.

She wondered what to do, where to go; now that her life had been irreversibly changed by the presence of one Jackson Rippner.

The cocky bastard snuck into her house one night a few months later. She had been expecting him—she had always known that he would come back. For revenge, or to finish the job, she knew not.

"Hello, Jack," she greeted him, standing up from the couch. Insomnia had become her friend, her way of dealing with the changes. She no longer fought to sleep. She instead rather enjoyed her sleepless nights. Every time that it was three am, she happily made her scrambled eggs and sat in front of a window to eat them. It was her way of taunting Jackson.

"Leese," he rasped slightly, his throat still healing from the never-forgotten pen.

"So, what brings you to my humble home?" she questioned, gesturing about the small apartment. "Come to kill me?"

"No, I came to see how you were doing. See what had changed," he smirked. He was expecting change, but not this kind of a drastic change from the Lisa that he had once followed.

"You gave me strength that I had forgotten—strength to do this," she smiled, aiming the sleek gun at Jackson's dark-haired head.

Jackson put his hands up in the air. He seemed pleasantly surprised at her show of control. He could not help but smirk at the changed woman who stood before him, a gun in her hands. Even if the gun was pointed at his head.

"Well, not such a good little girl now, are we Leese?" he teased.

"Shut up, Jack."

"Oh, I'm so hurt," he mocked, lowering his hands to pretend that he had been wounded by her words.

"Hands where I can see them," she ordered, clicking the safety off as a warning. She would not hesitate to shoot him. Hesitation had gotten her into trouble before. There was no time to think, only time to act.

Jackson snorted.

"What? You don't think I'll shoot?"

"I don't think you really want to know what I think. Remember last time?" he smirked and her face fell. Of course she remembered. How could she forgot when Jackson pushed her past her breaking point and nearly strangled her in the bathroom?

"You're right—I don't feel like listening to anymore of your lies tonight," she snapped, angry at him.

"Aw, come on, Leese. You know I don't lie."

"You don't exactly tell the truth either."

Jackson nodded. That was true. He did omit certain details and change others slightly to fit his means. But who didn't?

"I just came by to visit—I guess I'll go now," he said softly, turning around to the leave the same way he came in.

"You'll leave when I say you can leave," hissed Lisa.

Jackson smiled widely before turning back to face her. She had stepped closer to him when he had turned and now she was within his grasp. He grabbed her and fought with her for the gun.

"This isn't a way to live, Leese," he told her as they wrestled over the gun, each of them pulling the other to ground, where they continued to fight.

"How would you know? You kill people for a living, Jack!"

"Not any more. I'm retired, Leese. I retired after you beat the shit out of me. Actually, I was more or less fired."

"And they didn't kill you? What a shame," she mocked.

"Give me the gun, Leese. I don't want you to get hurt." He gently held her down to the floor, using his weight to hold her somewhat still as he tried to pry the gun from her slender fingers.

"Stopping lying, Jack. We both know that you don't give a damn about me." She flung herself at him, rolling them both over, her atop of him, holding him to the floor.

"That's not true."

"Tell it to someone who cares," she said, gritting her teeth. She would not lose to him. She was stronger then him. She had proven it before. Now why was it so damn difficult the second time around?

Lisa's finger slipped on the trigger, firing a single shot. Her green eyes and his blue eyes flew open in shock at the sudden shot. They stopped fighting over the gun. Lisa lifted her right hand, which was sticky with fresh crimson blood. She gasped and her slim body trembled.

"Oh, no, no, Leese!" he cried in horror, realizing what had happened.

"Bye…" she whispered to him, a faint smile coming across her face. She was finally going to be at peace.

Lisa Reisert's dead body lay upon Jackson. She had accidentally shot herself during the struggle. He did not have the heart to move her, or to leave. He had done this. Her death was his fault. His hands became stained with her blood, blood that would never wash away.

He smoothed her hair, controlling the curls as best he could. He hugged her cooling body close to his, wondering if by some miracle that the heat from his body would make it warm again. It never warmed.

Hours passed slowly, yet he kept to his vigil. He was not going to leave her. He did not know how long it would be before someone found them, but he did not care. He was not going to leave. He would face his punishment for killing her. His fingerprints were on the gun after all. He would lie and say he shot her. No one had to know that Lisa had shot herself, even if by pure accident.

Around ten am, the front door opened and in stepped a smiling Joe Reisert.

"Good morning, Lisa," he called as the door swung open to reveal the disastrous scene before it.

The small, usually tidy room was in shambles from their struggle. A pool of rapidly drying blood surrounded the living and the dead. Lisa's body was huddled close to Jackson. The gun had fallen on the floor beside the pair.

"You…you…" stammered Joe, stricken by the sight of his daughter's dead body in the arms of Jackson Rippner.

Jackson said nothing, preferring to stay silent. Joe came closer and lifted the bloody gun. His arm shook as he took aim at Jackson. Jackson remained silent and unmoving, his bright blue eyes open as he prepared to meet his fate.

"Why?" asked Joe, demanding answers. "Why Lisa?"

Jackson smiled and replied, rasping, "Why not?"

A single shot rang through the apartment once more, this time delivered into Jackson Rippner's skull. A fresh pool of blood mingled with the dried puddle that was Lisa's. Two dead bodies lay entwined on the wood floor.

How ironic that they would be closer in death then they ever had been in life.

Author's Notes:

This story just came out of nowhere! One moment I'm thinking about a strong Lisa, and the next, well the end comes out. Hey, I had to break the trend. Let me know what you think!