Disclaimer: I don't own Red Eye

Chapter One


Lisa Reisert reached for the remote to turn off the TV news program. It made her slightly ill. So many bad things happen everyday to so many people, and if it's gruesome enough, it may get 45 seconds on the local news. But as soon as something more sensational came along, the plight of the previous days victims were forgotten.

She did not have a high opinion of the media.

Just a year and a half earlier, Lisa had been the one whose face had usurped some poor beaten schmucks on the nightly news. Her image had been plastered all over the media with the gripping headline: "LUX HOTEL MANAGER SURVIVES ATTACK, FOILS TERRORISTS." Press had hounded her, seeking an exclusive interview with the 'pretty brunette, (25)' who had saved the Lux Atlantic Hotel to flesh out the few details released by authorities.

For a week, they had speculated on what really happened, who had been involved, and what was to become of Lisa Reisert. The only thing known for sure, was that a member of a terrorist organization had attempted to force her into aiding a plot to bomb the Lux Atlantic Hotel in Miami, Florida, where Charles Keefe, Deputy Director of Homeland Security was staying. Originally, the press were not to know of Lisa's involvement. But, inevitably, someone in the FBI or Miami Police investigating the events leaked information regarding her role.

She was turned into a local, and to some extent national hero.

After that first harrowing week, the attention died down as other, more timely scandals and atrocities filled the headlines. She regarded it as a relief. In dealing with the aftermath of that fateful red eye flight, she would have rather been left alone.

While staring into the fading eyes of the man who had just tried to stab her to death in her father's home, Lisa realized she felt some sense of sympathy. She knew what it felt like to lose, to be beaten in a way that would make one wish for death rather continue to live with the memory of defeat. And if, through the shock, this burgeoning feeling inside her was what it felt like to win in the face of life threatening danger, well, she pitied him the loss of it. But there can only be one victor in a game such as that, and the last look she gave him before he closed his eyes clearly stated what they both knew: she had won.

As soon as the police had arrived with the paramedics hot on their heels, Lisa requested clearance to leave and was granted permission to head to the Lux, to assist her colleague, Cynthia, with the consequences of the explosion in the hotel. She left her father, Joe Riesert, in the house, confident he could deal with anything the officers requested.

On her way out, Lisa caught a glimpse of a stretcher carrying a man being placed in an ambulance. In the back of a police cruiser on its way to the Lux, she considered the sight. There were only two men in the house who would have been in need of a stretcher, and one she had seen quite dead as the result of being thrown by an SUV through the front of the house. She knew, then, that the man who had gone by the name Jackson Rippner, the man who had tried to kill her, was still alive.

Out of habit, the thought was pushed to the back of her mind, to be dealt with later. Or never.

Once in the Hotel, she quickly found Cynthia and spent the rest of the day with her dealing with irate hotel guests, grateful politicians, and FBI investigators. She realized she needed to worry about the fact that she had used a stolen SUV to kill a man. She realized, due to shock or skill, she could relate the entire story to the field agent questioning her in an unemotional, straightforward manner. She realized if she had to deal with one more hotel guest, she was going to get her field hockey stick.

Charges were not brought against Lisa. Her father was actually an old friend of Charles Keefe, and as the daughter of a golf buddy, and a sign of his gratitude, strings were pulled for her. She was informed she would get off scot-free before six o'clock that evening.

That night, she and Cynthia met her father at a resort down the street from the Lux. Both her apartment and her father's home were now crime scenes, and they would be staying in this hotel until their respective residences were released. After much fretting, her father turned in for the night, and the two women continued to sit in the lobby bar. They had always been friendly, but Lisa had not realized how glad she was to have another female to talk to, or in this case, just sit with, until that night. She was beyond exhausted, mentally and physically, but this new feeling of strength she had discovered while looking down at Jackson was keeping her afloat.

Through the rest of the first week, that strength enabled her to keep her spine straight in the face of a media circus. Deeper issues and feelings were put on hold as she dodged reporters, her answering machine brimming with messages from eager sharks in somber suits. She plastered a smile on her face when recognized on the sidewalk; side-stepped questions about her painful ordeal designed to entertain others morbid curiosity.

In time, when the heat had died down a bit, she had time to deal with her experience. And this time, she swore to herself, she really would deal. She had been working at the Lux for three years, one as a manager, securing the position fresh out of college through another of her Dad's contacts. The first time she was attacked, a year into the job, she barely paused. She was broken inside, but she quickly found that if she shoved the pieces down deep enough, they almost resembled a whole again. She threw herself into her job, relying on the loving support of her father when she was feeling low, and rose to a promotion ahead of schedule. She had never really healed from her first ordeal- and to be subjected to another terrorizing experience most people could go their whole lives avoiding? That was too much. A week and a half after the most recent attack, she handed in her letter of resignation.

At 25, Lisa Reisert was unemployed. But, she had to get away. Away from the Lux, away from Miami, and though it pained them both, away from her father. She needed to discover the healing process herself.

She didn't consider it running from her problems. If anything, she felt she was moving toward them, toward dealing with them. Fixing herself before she could fix anything else. The strength she had gained since the assassination attempt only grew during this period, and she became more comfortable with it. Someone had once told her, "It was beyond your control." She knew now that it held some truth. She had not invited or even allowed these occurrences, fate had simply caught her up in some cruel game. However, once in any situation, she knew she had the strength to stay in control, and handle it- a knowledge that could only come from experience. She knew she was going to survive, and three (admittedly painfully boring) months into her sabbatical, she accepted a new job offer.

It was supposed to be temporary, helping out a long time friend of the family. Mark Bates and his wife, Adelaide, owned a Bed and Breakfast in Virginia. When it was discovered that Adelaide was sick, she wished to move closer to her children and grandchildren to spend her remaining time. Mark needed someone to take over the running of the Inn, and Lisa, looking for something different, agreed to help.

Surprisingly, she even had the blessing of her father to make the move. Joe was a good man, if slightly overprotective of his daughter, and saw in her a need to make it on her own for a while. Granted, he visited her in Virginia more often than he probably should, but neither father nor daughter had any objection.

This temporary position of 'innkeeper' had now lasted over a year. Adjusting from the fast-paced, high-stress life of a top hotel manager, to the slower, more involved experience of running a bed and breakfast was not as jarring as one would think. At least, not to her. And she had the time to form solid friendships with most of the staff. Really, human contact was such a refreshing change.

Lisa's home was now the third floor of the Bates Inn. It was spacious, afforded sweeping views of the hazy Blue Ridge Mountains, and she was in love with it. She was currently hunkered down in her cream-colored couch in front of the television, but as she grabbed the remote, the story the anchorwoman was reporting caught her ear.

"…In international news, the Algerian leader assassinated earlier today was…"

Click.

She stared at the black TV screen for a long moment.

Jackson.

Jackson Rippner. This was yet another reason Lisa rarely watched the news. Events like this always brought her thoughts around to the man in seat 18F- her own, personal terrorist. He had told her he was a manager of assassinations and government overthrows. She couldn't help but wonder if he had anything to do with this new development in international politics. She had no idea where he was or even if he was still alive. He had vanished before even arriving at the hospital that day. No one could find him, nor, she thought, had they looked very hard. She could only assume he had useful contacts like she herself had taken advantage of to avoid punishment.

He was the only part of the entire ordeal that still haunted her on a daily basis. She felt like she had recovered from the pain of her previous attacks, and done the whole "finding herself" bit. Even her first attacker did not infiltrate her thoughts at odd times throughout the day. But, Jackson-

It must have been his face. She had never even seen the face of the first man to terrorize her; but, Jackson's she had seen in perfect focus. He was striking, really. Pale skin and dark hair framed the bluest eyes Lisa had ever seen. They were a weapon all their own, and he used them: one moment, sympathetic and admiring; the next, condescending and ruthless. His full mouth was the only soft feature in a face of sharp planes and ice.

It followed her everywhere. He would pop into her thoughts in quiet moments, in the middle of conversations, even her cat reminded her of him. Along with the third-floor apartment, Lisa had taken over the care of the Inn's resident feline, Anastasia: a Siamese with characteristically blue eyes. Watching the cat stalk its prey, she had never felt so sympathetic to a mouse.

But above all of this, Jackson haunted her nightmares.

She sometimes dreamt of small spaces and hate-filled eyes, sometimes of running: breathless, scared, desperate, knowing he was behind her, and there was no escape. Even if the evil in her dream took no specific form, she always knew it was him. Jackson.

Thinking of him conjured a vivid image of his face in the fore of her mind. She saw it forming in the blank TV. It was so clear. She could see the rage in his eyes. With terror filling her lungs, she realized: it was too clear. She spun around and jumped in fright off of the couch when the phone rang.

She stood breathing hard in front of the TV, clutching her heart and feeling like a fool. Of course, he wasn't in her apartment. Her mind was just playing tricks on her. Horrible, vivid, tricks.

Anastasia jumping up on the back of the sofa brought her back to reality. She dived for the phone, but was too late as the answering machine picked up.

"Leese, it's Dad. I just thought I'd give you a call before I turned in tonight. Maybe you're out on a date- didn't you tell me about a Chris up there? A dentist or something?"

It was the tone of his voice that stopped Lisa from picking up the phone. He sounded so hopeful…

"Anyway, I hope you're having fun. And be careful. I just saw on the news this evening that they found the body of some girl here, and she was all slashed up. I know, I know- Miami is different than Nellysford. But really, Leese, we both know it can happen anywhere. Stay safe and I hope you're doing okay. Maybe I'll come up and visit again soon. Alright, well I'm going to bed. 'Night, sweetie." He hung up.

"Goodnight, Dad," she whispered.


AN: Hey everyone! So sorry it took 2 weeks to post this. It's finally up and...backstory, backstorrry… plot? Where's the plot? I know, it sucks- but it's getting there, have patience! I was too busy amusing myself with my tiny Wes Craven homage (tensiontensiontensionPHONERINGSmuahahaha!) Please let me know what you think. About the story, not the Craven moment. And THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed last time (or even just read)! Some of them made me laugh diabolically;) I seriously DID NOT expect that kind of response to this. Not gonna lie, it was the coolest thing EVER! As are you. Go ahead, you can preen a bit. You're awesome.

AN Part Deux: I almost forgot! 10 points for whoever picks up on another homage of sorts in this chapter… And thank you to everyone who helped me edit this, especially plays-with-stars (also for the use of her cat ;))

AN Strikes Back: This got reposted a couple of times (my internet is screwy) so if you got a couple of alerts for this: sorry for crowding up you inbox!