This is my first Red Eye fic so be kind - I sort of fell in love with this movie so I had to write this!
This takes place a few weeks after the movie...
"Lisa! Here's the latest! Did you see it? Have you seen it yet? Lisa!"
Something told Lisa Reisert that her good friend and fellow co-worker Cynthia, was excited.
Lisa however, was not.
She let out a groan and suddenly immersed herself with sorting out an incorrect reservation on the Lux Atlantic Hotel system, tapping furiously at the keyboard.
"Lisa?" The smaller - but no less energetic - woman bobbed in front of the reception counter as if she were the customer and waved a hand in front of her friend's face. Lisa gritted her teeth in frustration before plastering a fake smile over her face as she glanced up. She'd been doing that a lot lately. She's a people person after all. Still a people person.
She sighs, "No I haven't. And I'm very busy. So unless you want the Archer family with their mad, seven child brood to be sharing our best conference room then keep on yapping."
Too sharp. Cynthia's eyes widen in hurt and confusion at her outburst. This has been happening more and more lately too.
"Oh I'm sorry Cyn. It's just stress. I think the system is broken." Still upset, try some humour, "Or possibly possessed by pure evil." She adds, gesturing wildly at the computer. This raises a little smile, and Lisa returns it in relief.
"Oh good. So you'll look then?"
"I can't really -"
"It's 'The Miami Herald' Lisa. The. Miami. Herald. You and me! Page two!" Cynthia's eyes widen, and her enthusiasm is getting scary so Lisa snatches the article away for fear that Cynthia might cry. Or beat her into an untimely death with the newspaper. Whichever comes naturally. And when Cynthia is this excited, there's simply no way of telling.
"Wow that's great," Lisa declares half-heartedly, giving it the barest glance. She's seen enough, catching snippets such as: Local Woman Honoured... Plane ordeal... Terrorist plot thwarted...
"Is that all you can say? Jeez Leese," Cynthia's eyebrows reach new heights. "There's a picture of Keefe shaking your hand. And look right there!" She stabs the corner of the photo happily, "There's me! Well, more like the back of my head but still..."
Her smile is getting very strained as she realises she must be starting resemble The Joker.
"And that is great Cynthia." She repeats tactfully, trying to sound more enthused. "Really, it is. So you should keep it. It's your moment too."
"Aw no I just pulled the alarm," She ducks her head in modesty which Lisa finds quite sweet really. But the effect is somewhat ruined when she adds: "I bought it for you anyway. So you can show everyone what a hero you really are."
"Oh no I don't - "
"It shows how much you rock. You should be proud of yourself so why don't you just - "
"I've already lived through it that's why, so I don't need the play-by-play Cynthia. Now will you just leave me alone?" Her tone is harsh and it effectively shuts her babbling co-worker up.
Cynthia visibly pales, "Oh right, of course. Well um, I should just..." And with that, she scampers off, looking guilty.
Lisa sighs once more in frustration before running her hands through her hair. Sarcastic thoughts bitterly fill her mind.
Congratulations. Nicely done Lisa. Driven another friend away. Is this all there is for you now? Treating friends as enemies and jumping at shadows thinking - no, almost hoping - it will be him?
She shut those lines of thoughts right down because it's too strange. Too frightening because...
Jackson Rippner has disappeared from custody.
Gone without a trace, but not forgotten.
It turns out he was a ghost anyway. There were no files on him. Nothing to link him to any deadly organisations. And his absence was initially covered up. Not a mention of him in any newspapers (well, at least not by name) and blank looks from police officers - "Jackson who?" - at the mere mention of his name. Jackson Rippner must have pretty powerful friends. He has been erased. But not from Lisa's memories. Never from her memories.
Waiting for him is the hardest part of all. The wait. She knows he'll come back for her. And she wants it to be over, even though she knows she may not have the strength to fight him off this time. She just wishes he would make his move. Especially now her police protection has ended and she's moved back into her own house. Her Dad thought she had a death wish when she'd left the comfort of her old home. But that was just it. It wasn't her home anymore. She wanted her life back, no matter how short the rest of it may be. No matter how soon Jackson may emerge from her nightmares and into her reality.
And that would turn out to be very soon indeed.
She knew he was there seconds after stepping through the door.
Her first clue was the chill. Her house was inexplicably cold. Maybe a window had been left open or perhaps it was simply a breezy day. But it was more than that. She knew it was more than that. There was this feeling of an alien presence. An intruder. Like something that is out of place and should not be there.
Then there was that sensation. Like when someone is talking about you and they're just out of sight. She could feel it.
Something was wrong. Completely wrong.
Her final clue was not so subtle. A fast and powerful figure suddenly slammed her against the door, body pressed hard against hers. She smacked her head against the solid frame and in those precious seconds she used to recover he had thrown her on the floor before sitting on her body, crushing her with his surprisingly heavy weight.
"Get off me!"
She thrashed and kicked and shrieked until her voice was hoarse but to no avail. He forcefully pressed a hand over her mouth. She heard the click of the knife as he withdrew it from his belt before she even saw it. And in a moment of madness she thought incredulously: A knife? In your belt? Really? What are you a cowboy?! And so with frightened and concussed eyes, she got her first look at her attacker and saw...
It wasn't Jackson.
As if it was possible to be even more afraid.
He was huge. Bald. Tattooed. He stank of sweat and leather and smiled manically at her. How subtle... She let out a deranged sounding giggle of fear, almost asking why he wasn't Jackson and if he had a Harley to complete the mid-life biker crisis. But then it hit her.
He was here to kill her.
"This is for saving Keefe you stupid bitch."
She screamed and thrashed desperately like an alley cat as he raised the knife, that terrible grin still bearing down on her.
She didn't hear the front door open.
She barely heard the gun shot.
Silencer…
She did notice the small, crimson hole that just blossomed in the front of Mr Psycho-Biker's head though. She saw the triumphant grin slide away in slow motion, replaced by absolutely nothing.
And she felt the entire dead weight of his body as he landed on her, the warm blood splattering on her chest.
Oh God.
Too horrified to scream. Too relieved to care. She thrashed once more, pushing his lifeless form off of her in a hazy stupor.
She turned gratefully to those imaginary Police Men, shaking in shock.
It wasn't the only shock.
Her saviour had shut the door and dead bolted it. Her saviour was now smiling calmly, looking incredibly handsome. She was surprised she could even notice something like that. However, her saviour was also now pointing the gun at her.
Her saviour was a monster in disguise.
Her saviour was Jackson.
Review if you think it's worth continuing :)