A/N: I began writing this story a decade ago, sometime in the year after seeing Red Eye for the first time. Something about the movie just got to me – I loved the characters of Jackson and Lisa, loved their chemistry and dynamic. I have watched the film many times over the years and periodically returned to this story; this summer, I finally decided to commit to finishing it, in part because I had realized that it wouldn't leave me alone until I did so.

An early, unfinished draft of this is on this site under my old pen name (mistocat21, in case anyone is curious). While the story below features the same characters and the same basic plotline, it is wildly different from the one I began posting nine years ago. It was primarily a story about my OC, Kaylie, and her relationship with Jackson (and Lisa). While that is still the case, it has also very much become a story about Jackson.

So if you've made it through my lengthy note, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. It is complete and is, in fact, the first fan fic I have ever finished. I will be posting approximately two chapters per week. I'm also working on a sequel, which I hope to have finished in time to post immediately after this one.

Thanks!

Disclaimers:

I, perhaps obviously, own nothing related to Red Eye.

Rated M for language, canon-typical violence and brief scenes of a sexual nature.

"Nothing is certain but death and taxes."

-Attributed to Benjamin Franklin

"Death and taxes? What an odd pairing."

-Meet Joe Black

The ringing of his phone startled Jackson from sleep. He was fully awake instantly, reaching with practiced ease towards the bedside table while glancing at the clock. 2 AM. He retrieved his phone and answered the call.

"It couldn't wait until daylight?"

"No, I'm afraid not." Alex's distinctive lilt came down the line. "I'm sorry, I know it's early there, but there is something you need to see."

"Which is?" Jackson was on his feet now, padding noiselessly from his bedroom towards the open plan living room and his desk.

"Are you at your computer?"

Jackson sank into his desk chair, flipping open his laptop and running a hand through sleep mussed hair. "Yep."

"Check your email."

The line went quiet from both ends as Jackson located the message and clicked open the attachment. "Shit."

"Yes," Alex sighed. "My thoughts exactly."

Jackson peered at the image on his screen. He had never actually met Peter Hewett in person, but had no difficulty identifying the man tied to a chair in front of the camera. The barrel of a gun was pressed against the side of Peter's head, held by someone whose face was off screen. The captive's eyes were wide, worried, but he appeared largely calm. Then again, Jackson mused, you didn't last long in this business without the ability to keep your head under pressure.

"Parker?" He queried of Alex, though it wasn't really a question.

"Indeed." Alex confirmed. "Evidently this is what happens when we don't play by his rules - his words, mind."

"His rules," Jackson scoffed. "So is this the part where you ask me to give myself up to spare dear Peter?"

"Jackson." Alex sounded slightly put out. "You know I wouldn't ask that of you." He sighed. "I doubt it'd do much good anyway."

"Parker's not looking to negotiate," Jackson surmised.

"Not that he's indicated," the other man confirmed. "I think he's less interested in bartering as he is just out for blood."

"He evidently doesn't share your distaste for revenge," Jackson quipped. "Does he have Kaylie?"

"I don't think so," Alex replied slowly. "He hasn't mentioned her and I doubt he'd keep that to himself. She'd really only be of use to him if he wanted something from Peter. Having said that, Parker has proven himself to be irrational and unpredictable – so all bets are off."

"I don't understand why he'd even go after Peter at all," Jackson retorted. "It would have been just as easy – likely easier – to pick up Lisa, and she's the one that Parker actually wants. Well, and me."

"I don't think Parker would make the mistake of thinking you'd be an easy target."

"Better that he doesn't," Jackson smirked. "His threatening Peter only makes sense as a way to get to you."

"I think you're right about that," Alex replied. "And he can probably further justify it as cleaning up loose ends, given that Peter could identify him."

"So what's his next move?"

"He'll go after Miss Reisert."

Jackson heaved a sigh. "I knew you were going to say that." He paused for a moment, turning an idea over in his mind. "What if we offered to bring Lisa to him?"

"Jackson-"

"Hear me out," Jackson interrupted. "You tell Parker that I will personally deliver Lisa to him, in exchange for Peter. If he agrees, we use that meeting as an opportunity-

"To take him out." Alex finished, picking up on Jackson's line of thinking. "And end this ridiculous wild goose chase."

"Precisely."

"Do you really think he'll take the bait?"

"I think he won't pass up the opportunity to get both Lisa and I in a room."

"And what happens when he realizes she's not with you?"

Jackson smirked. "Oh, she'll be with me."

"Jackson…" Alex gave off a resigned sigh. "I know better than to try and tell you what to do, but just make sure you think this through. That Miss Reisert has been through a lot on your account already."

"Going soft, are we?" Jackson huffed. "You forget, this entire situation is her fault."

"I think our current predicament can be blamed on Parker," Alex retorted. "Although, if you keep talking like that, we won't have any difficulties making him believe that you really will give him Miss Reisert."

"What makes you think I won't?"

Alex actually laughed. "We both know the answer to that."

"Whether or not he believes it," Jackson pressed on, choosing to ignore Alex's comment. "He'll still agree. And it's not as though I trust him to hold up his end, either."

The line went silent for a long moment. When Alex finally spoke, his voice was quiet, any trace of laughter gone. "Is there any way of playing this that ends well for Peter?"

Jackson clicked his laptop closed, considering the question. He knew that Alex was asking him to seriously entertain the possibility. He also knew that Alex neither expected nor wanted anything other than the brutally honest truth. "If we're serious about taking Parker out, that needs to be our priority. Not a rescue mission."

There was another long pause. "You're right." Alex said, his voice heavy. And then: "You're going to need my help on this one."

"It would certainly make things easier."

"I'll get in touch with Parker today," Alex decided. "Assuming he agrees, I'll arrange a time and place, then I'll fly out and meet you. How long do you need?"

"Twenty-four hours to get to Miami," Jackson replied, sliding his laptop into his bag and reaching into a drawer for a spare power cord. "Better give us a couple of days."

"At least." Alex snorted. "We need to make sure we do this right."

"I'll get Kaylie on the way. I'm willing to bet Parker has surveillance on the house, in case he decides he needs her."

"I agree." Then Alex chuckled. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're concerned about that young lady."

"Let me know when you've spoken to Parker," was Jackson's only reply.

"I will. Look after Kaylie, will you? It's the least we can do. And be careful."

Jackson ended the call and checked the time. The drive from New York to D.C. wouldn't take long at this time of night. If he left soon, he should hopefully be able to intercept Kaylie before she left for school. That would make things much less complicated.

4 Hours Later

"Dad?" Kaylie Hewett poked her head around her father's bedroom door, frowning at the tidily made – and empty – bed. She had expected him to be sleeping in. He said he was getting in late last night. A tiny voice at the back of her mind wondered if he'd even made it home at all, but she pushed that anxious thought away and headed down the stairs. As she neared the bottom, she heard the sound of a chair scraping the floor in the kitchen. He was just already downstairs; she hadn't meant for him to get up so early just to see her off to school. She rounded the corner and the good morning greeting died on her lips as she took in the scene before her. Her father was nowhere to be seen. Sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee, was Jackson Rippner.

6 Months Earlier

There were two things Jackson was immediately aware of when he first began to surface from unconsciousness: an obnoxious, steady beeping, and pain. Not excruciating, acute pain, but an achy pain that seemed to radiate throughout his entire body. What had happened to him? He forced his eyes open, squinting against the bright light. Memories flashed unbidden – the plane, Lisa, the pen – well that explained why his neck hurt -, the house, Lisa, had he been shot?, Lisa.

"Jackson?" A familiar voice hovered somewhere near his left ear.Lisa? No, wrong voice, wrong gender, he was so confused, what kind of drugs did they have him on? He opened his mouth to try to speak, but nothing came out. "Jackson, are you in any pain? Nod for yes." He managed the nod.

"…pain…time to heal…"

"…up the dosage…"

Sweet relief flooded his veins and he sank back into oblivion.

When Jackson surfaced a second time, he felt immeasurably better. He still hurt, but it was more muted than before and – somewhat incongruously – his head also felt clearer. He opened his eyes and found Alex watching him carefully.

"How're you feeling?" The older man inquired.

"Better," Jackson croaked, automatically reaching a hand to his throat.

"Doc says you'll be a bit raspy for awhile," Alex offered. "But it's healing fine and your voice will get back to normal."

"Doc?" Jackson tried to glance around, but found moving rather painful. "Where am I?"

"Back in New York. Just outside the city. Quiet little hospital, and my own doctor at your service."

"Your-" Jackson was already getting irritated at his brain, which was working far slower than usual. "You flew…in from London…with your doctor…and got me out of Miami…?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"You think I'd risk losing you?"

"I thought… you'd want to distance yourself… after…"

"Well, it was a bit of a cock up, wasn't it?" Alex mused. "But I'd be lying if I said I've never blown a contract. There is one thing I take issue with, however."

Jackson raised an eyebrow.

"Why the hell did you follow the Reisert girl back to her house?"

"I had to finish the job –" Jackson started, wishing he that was not lying down and heavily medicated for this conversation.

"And how'd that work out for you?" Alex retorted. "Jackson. When things don't go to plan, you step back, regroup and figure out your next move. You could've walked off the plane with relatively minor injuries and only Miss Reisert's word against you. Instead, you go off half-cocked, get yourself shot and create a much bigger mess to clean up." Jackson opened his mouth to speak, but Alex cut him off. "And showing up at her house wasn't going to help the Keefe operation. That was entirely for you."

Jackson sighed. "I may have let my anger at Lisa drive some decision making," he admitted rather stiffly.

"I'll say." Alex chuckled. "Take my advice, Jackson. Revenge is rarely worth it."

"How'd Parker take it?" Jackson asked.

Alex's expression darkened. "Not well. In fact, he's demanding that I hand over both you and Miss Reisert on a silver platter."

"Should I be concerned?"

"Ha! No." Alex snorted. "I wouldn't have gone through all that trouble of getting you out of Miami and disappearing all of the evidence only to let Parker kill you." He shook his head. "No. I wouldn't even hand Miss Reisert over to that lunatic."

"It'd be no less than she deserves," Jackson sneered. "Actually no – if she's going to die, I'd rather do it myself."

"You're not in any position to be killing anybody," Alex said, looking down at Jackson with an expression that, to the younger man's extreme irritation, resembled amusement. Alex patted Jackson's shoulder. "Rest up. I have a feeling you're going to need it."

Present Day

"What are you doing in my house?"

"Well, hello to you, too." Jackson smiled and spread his arms wide. "What, not happy to see me?"

Kaylie glared. "Where is my dad?"

"I'm not exactly sure."

"What have you done to him?!" A small part of Kaylie's brain was desperately trying to point out that she ought to be frightened, but – for the moment – she was mostly just angry.

"I haven't done anything to him."

Kaylie huffed. "Not a year ago you kidnapped me for leverage over my dad. And now, suddenly, you're here and he's gone and I'm supposed to believe that you had nothing to do with it?"

"I've never lied to you," Jackson retorted, entirely calm in the face of her growing fury. "Besides, how do you even know that anything has happened to him?"

"He didn't come home last night."

"And?"

"He always comes home." Kaylie swallowed hard. "And he would've called if something came up."

"Yes." Jackson was giving her a measured stare that made her rather uncomfortable. "He would have."

"You do know what happened to him!" Kaylie almost took a step towards Jackson, then thought better of it. "Where is he?!"

"I told you, I don't know."

"Well then, if you're not going to be of any use, kindly get the fuck out of my house."

"Well, well," Jackson stood, smirking. "You're a bit more aggressive than the last time we met." He took a step towards her and Kaylie instinctively stepped back. He chuckled. "Not entirely unafraid, though. Smart girl."

Kaylie swallowed hard.

"I'm afraid I can't just leave," he continued, slowly circling the table. "Although I don't have any intention of hurting you…well, provided you cooperate, at least. Sound familiar?"

"What do you want?" Kaylie whispered.

"You're coming with me."

"No," she whispered, then cleared her throat and spoke a bit louder. "Not again."

"But we had such fun last time," Jackson quipped, before growing serious. "Kaylie, last time I promised you that you would be safe, if you cooperated and your father did as I asked. Did I keep that promise?"

She couldn't deny that he had. "Yes."

"Right. I did. And now, I'm promising again that I'm not going to hurt you. Honestly, I'd rather not even have to kidnap you – it'd be much easier if you came willingly."

"And if I say no?"

"Then you'll come unwillingly." Jackson smirked.

"And we're back to kidnapping." Kaylie sighed. "What about my dad?"

"What about him?"

"If I come with you, you'll let him go?"

Jackson shot her an exasperated look. "How many times do I have to say it, I do not have your father."

Kaylie stared at him, trying to determine if he was telling the truth or not. "Then what reason do I have to come with you? What if my dad comes back and I'm not here?"

Jackson opened his mouth, likely to tell her that it didn't matter if she had a reason as she didn't have a choice either, but he closed it just as quickly and cocked his head to one side.

"What-" Kaylie started. Jackson crossed the remaining distance between them in one stride, her shriek of alarm muffled by his hand clamping over her mouth. Then she heard it. The creak of a door. At the other end of the house, but audible nonetheless.

"If you want to live through the next five minutes," Jackson spoke into her ear, his voice low and steady. "You will do exactly as I say, without hesitation. Nod if you understand."

Kaylie nodded, heart thumping in her chest.

"Good girl. I'm going to take my hand away now. You will not make a noise. Clear?"

He waited for her second nod, and then removed his hand. Pressing a finger to his lips, he inclined his head to indicate that she should follow him. Kaylie did so, noting even through her panic that his hand was resting on what appeared to be a knife sheathed at his waist, previously hidden by his suit jacket. Did he always carry a knife? Or was he expecting something to happen?

Just outside the kitchen, Jackson paused at the doorway to a small bathroom and waved Kaylie inside. He followed her in, quietly closing the door behind them before giving the room a quick once over. He turned back to Kaylie.

"Stay in here, be quiet, lock the door behind me and do NOT open it for anyone other than me. Got it?"

Kaylie nodded. He opened the door and was gone, pulling it shut once again. She quickly turned the lock and then turned to survey the tiny room, drawing in an unsteady breath. She flinched at the sound of glass breaking, spinning back to face the door. What the hell was going on? Who was in her house? What if they somehow got the upper hand on Jackson? Kaylie thought of the dark-haired, snarky, rather unfeeling man who had kidnapped her once already and was apparently intending to do so again. She thought of the mysterious, un-named intruder that Jackson clearly believed posed a threat to her. Was Jackson protecting her? She heard a thud that could have been one, or possibly two, bodies colliding with a wall or floor. Or maybe furniture tipping over… Jackson or mystery assailant, Kaylie honestly wasn't sure which one she should be more afraid of. But one thing was abundantly clear: either way, and assuming she got out of this bathroom in one piece, she was royally, totally, fucked.

Kaylie had been shivering in silence for several minutes, when a knock at the door made her jump clear off the ground.

"Kaylie, it's me." Jackson's voice came from the other side. "You can unlock the door."

Kaylie stared at the lock. It was definitely Jackson, but could she really trust that it was safe to open the door? That he wasn't under duress of some kind? Come to think of it, could she really trust Jackson?

"Kaylie. Everything's fine, open the door."

'Everything's fine' seemed rather of a misrepresentation to Kaylie, but before she could evaluate further, she heard a scraping sound on the other side of the door and the knob moved slightly and audibly clicked. She jumped back in surprise as the door swung open, feeling profound relief – relief? – that it was only Jackson in the doorway. He looked relatively unruffled, given whatever exactly had just taken place, and casually tucked a pocketknife into his jacket as she stared at him in disbelief.

"Exactly how safe was I in there, if you could open the door that easily?"

Jackson smirked. "As safe as you were anywhere else in the house." He inclined his head towards the hallway. "Come on."

Kaylie paused. "What happened?"

"Don't worry about it." After a second, he added: "And don't go in the living room."

Kaylie tried very hard not to think about what might have occurred in the living room. "Who was that?" She asked instead.

Jackson shook his head. "We don't have time for this now. We have to go."

"Jackson-"

He held up a hand. "We have to go. No, you do not have a choice. You DO have one minute to pack, as I'm feeling charitable. And exactly one minute, so get a move on."

Jackson followed Kaylie upstairs, waiting just outside her bedroom door as she grabbed a handful of clothes and shoved them into a small bag.

"Leave your phone," he ordered. "And any other electronics, for that matter."

Kaylie glanced up to find him standing in the doorway. "Why?"

"Because it's traceable. And because I said so." His own phone vibrated then, and he turned away to answer it, his voice too low for Kaylie to catch the words. Keeping one eye on his back, the teenager quickly swiped her phone off her desk and switched it to silent, before burying it in her bag. She held her breath for a moment, half-expecting that he'd somehow seen, before continuing her packing when he didn't turn around. No way was she leaving behind the one way her dad might be able to reach her. Absolutely no way.

When Jackson finished his call, she was standing in her bedroom doorway, bag slung over her shoulder.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked him quietly, before he could speak.

Jackson arched an eyebrow. "What, you'd rather stay here with him?" He queried scathingly, nodding down the stairs towards the aftermath of his earlier altercation. "Let's go."

Kaylie heaved a sigh of trepidation, frustration and resignation, and then followed Jackson down the stairs.