Disclaimer: Belong not to me. The title comes from the song "Over At the Frankenstein Place" from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
A/N: Well, I've just been reading all these great Red Eye stories (mainly those by The Shoeless One and No One Mourns the Wicked) so I thought I'd write one of my own. Now, it's not as good as theirs, so I recommend going to check their fics out but I thought I'd give it a try. So, I hope everyone enjoys my little late-night attempt. By the way, I have a challenge for someone provided they would like to undertake another Red Eye fic; just get in touch with me if you're interested. Please review and enjoy!
Lisa Reisert wasn't quite sure what exactly had awoken her from the largely troubled sleep that had held her off and on for the past several hours but suddenly she jerked awake, bolting upright and tensing immediately. Just as the weather forecast had called for, a storm was brewing on the horizon, thunder rumbling ominously in the distance while the wind batted skeleton-like tree branches against the bare glass window pane. Lisa figured that it was a combination of the growling thunder and the scratching branches that had rudely pulled her from her sleep.
More then anything, she wanted to slip back into dreamland but she found herself unable to even lower herself back onto her pillow and pull the covers over her head. Lisa was no stranger to insomnia, seeing as she had always had trouble drifting to sleep, even before… Before she had really had something to feed her nightmares.
Sighing, Lisa shivered slightly, an action that caused her to wrap her arms around her skinny frame. Whenever she thought about the events of the past several months, she couldn't help but begin to shake; it was an involuntary sort of reaction that she hated because she hated showing any sort of weakness. Get a hold of yourself, Lisa, she commanded in her harshest voice, just as she always did whenever she encountered one of these moments. Jumping at the wind again.
Just to prove to herself that she wasn't a child afraid of the dark, even though she was in some ways, though she was far from being a child, Lisa slipped out from beneath the sheets and headed over toward her window. She had always meant to buy curtains but had never gotten around to it. Not even after…
Peering past her reflection, Lisa studied the inky blackness beyond, searching the shadows for something she knew was not that. It's just the storm that's making you jump, she told herself in a slightly accusing manner, get back in bed. Maybe you'll get some sleep tonight. It didn't seem likely.
Then again, she hadn't gotten a decent amount of sleep since…since she had become afraid of the darkness that came with the nightfall. Lisa didn't like the unprotected, helpless feeling that always seemed to settle over her whenever dusk slipped into evening and evening gave way to absolute blackness. She always felt lost without a light in the darkness, ever since…
Ever since she had come to realize just what crept around in the darkness. Ever since she had met a man named Jackson Rippner. Ever since she had taken a very fateful red eye flight to her home city of Miami, only to find her life changed forever. Try as she might, Lisa couldn't forget, nor stop thinking, about the night that had altered her life and the morning that her will and spirit had really been tested.
The thought sent another shiver down her spine and Lisa's arms flew around her once again, attempting to ward off the chill that wasn't caused by an outer stimuli. She didn't move from the window, continuing to watch the branches of the tree that she had loved so much claw uselessly at the glass as though they actually desired to get in. Another low, threatening roll of thunder sounded, closer then the first had been, a signal that the storm wasn't far.
From somewhere down the street, a street-lamp clicked on, bathing a section of the pavement in a orange glow that did nothing to alleviate Lisa's midnight worries. Nothing could, however, so she didn't dwell very much on the bulb and the light that it shed in vain. When she started to think about the flight from Dallas to Miami, nothing could get her chills to dissipate.
It was on that flight that Lisa had found herself face to face with a man that might have been as close to real evil as one could possibly get, without being entirely sinister. Jackson Rippner often reminded her of a line in an old song that her father had loved once upon a time: "dirty deeds done dirt cheap." The phrase was an apt description of a man that had very little morals who happened to be in a line of work that didn't require them.
Whenever she closed her eyes, Lisa could remember his eyes vividly, the soulless blue that seemed so desperate to connect with her, to seduce her into playing his game. And she had, though she had found herself a reluctant player. Lisa had attempted to thwart Jackson and his sinister agenda, despite the way that his piercing gaze had seemed to hold her captive. But, back then, she had been tired of being Lisa the victim, Lisa the malleable, Lisa the submissive. Eyes had meant nothing to her then.
Nor had they meant anything when she had tried to kill the man that had held her captive with the intent to kill a politician and his family. Without an ounce of mercy, Lisa had watched as Jackson was shot at close range by her father; their eyes had locked, her mahogany ones with his icy orbs, and she had felt empty as she listened to him wheeze what was not, in the end, his last breaths.
Shortly after the shooting, the police and ambulance had arrived; Lisa found it slightly ironic that even assassins got hospital treatment. Back Jackson had been admitted into a local hospital, though his condition was critical. It had been a long road but Lisa had slowly managed to put the events behind her; the fact that she always kept the doors and windows locked and a weapon of some sort in every room was just as quirk that everyone assumed she would grow out of. She had assumed that she would grow out of it.
And she almost had, a month after the incident; Lisa had managed to snatch back a few pieces of the normal life she had lived before and had even started to thread them into a life that was normal enough for the time being. Until the hospital had called, a courtesy call as they deemed it, to let her know that a patient named Jackson Rippner had escaped from both hospital care and police custody. The orderly on the phone seemed to have no idea that his "just to let you know" message had succeeded in destroying the thin fabric she had worked so hard to weave.
Lisa still kept the doors and windows locked. She still kept a weapon in every room. She still had difficulty sleeping because her thoughts were plagued with nightmares that were only just beginning to go away, to become not as vivid as they once had been. She still jumped at the shadows. She still hated the darkness. And she figured she always would. Whether Lisa lived under the worry of a returning threat was a question that had never and undoubtedly would never be answered. For the time being, at least, she lived only in fear of her own shadow.
Proceeding a rumble of thunder by only seconds, a blot of lightning cracked across the velvet night sky, illuminating everything suddenly. Lisa felt her blood turn icy when she saw that her reflection wasn't the only one on the glass pane; her body stiffened instantly and she felt her breathing become almost non-existent.
"What's wrong, Leese?" Rasped a familiar voice, coming from behind her. She did not turn. "Scared of the storm?" As always, the tone was mocking, slightly sarcastic. Something she wasn't entirely used to.
Slowly, Lisa turned to face the man in the foyer of her bedroom. "No." Was her answer after careful deliberation. They both knew it was a lie. "Just thinking."
With a wry smile, his patented expression, Jackson entered the bedroom, easing the door shut behind her. "Another nightmare?" Again, his voice held a facetious tone.
Remaining where she was, Lisa replied, "No thanks to you," in a tone that was just as sarcastic but devoid of any real venom. "Just a few bad memories that haven't gone away."
That smile still on his face, Jackson approached her, offering her a glass of water that she hadn't seen before. "I would have brought you a Baybreeze but I figured it was a bit too early for that." He paused, considering. "Or a bit too late."
Though she took the glass, Lisa didn't sip from it. "I could use one of those about now." She admitted, though she wasn't sure if she was telling Jackson or herself. Every so often, alcohol was her cure-all.
As though he sensed her thoughts, Jackson took the glass from her and set it on the surface of the bureau, loosely slipping his arms around Lisa's waist. "Maybe it's time for you to stop jumping at shadows." He remarked, raising an eyebrow. "And come back to bed." Lisa stared at him doubtfully. "C'mon, you know I won't let anything happen to you." That familiar smirk was back.
Rolling her eyes, Lisa found herself raising an eyebrow. "Says the man who tried to kill me."
"I never tried to kill you." Jackson pointed out. "I only roughed you up a bit because you didn't listen to reason."
The skeptical expression didn't leave Lisa's face. "Oh, your fact-based-male logic." She remarked, to which Jackson said nothing. "And is it that logic that's telling me that I shouldn't be afraid of the dark when I'm living with an contract killer?"
Shrugging, Jackson kissed her forehead gently. "Maybe." He answered. "But right now the male logic is saying you should come back to bed." His eyes flashed with a dangerous, seductive glint.
Lisa found herself inclined to agree with Jackson's newly altered fact-based-male logic. After all, he was her beacon in the darkness, as strange as that seemed; never would she have believed that she would have felt safe with the man that caused her to jump at the shadows in the first place.
Then again, Lisa wasn't exactly one to argue with what her female-based emotions happened to be telling her.