Disclaimer: I own no part of Red Eye, and am in no way earning any profit off this story. It is fan fiction, and is written for enjoyment, not monetary gain.

Phrases in italics are Lisa's communications with Jackson.

Phrases in bold are loudspeaker announcements.

3:15 am.

Wednesday.

Lisa walked slowly down the aisle towards the men, trembling slightly with fear – but also with anticipation. Once she'd gotten to the end of the row the men closed in on her slightly, moving away with her to an open spot.

"Why are you volunteering to die?" one asked her cruelly as a few raised their weapons and trained them on her.

She lowered her head. "I…I just…"

There was a sudden bang – Lisa dropped to the floor and scrambled backwards as confusion broke out and the screams started.

She found herself being dragged backwards; looking up she saw Jackson put a finger to his lips and helped her crawl towards the back of the plane.

"Well done." she whispered, chuckling weakly.

"Trust me; you never want to have to possess one of their bodies." Jackson shuddered, making a face. "So…so callous. Nothing graceful or refined about their methods at all. They're like animals…"

She bit her lip to stifle laughter, and tugged the pant legs of people she passed. They looked down, she gestured for them to follow her while the guards were all distracted.

Leading them to the back door, she pushed it open. They were on the ground, on a large tarmac area, but there were a few small buildings nearby, and beyond that, Lisa could hear police sirens.

"Go!" she whispered, and people began jumping out of the plane.

She'd gotten a good thirty or forty people out by the time the shooting stopped. She shut the door and hurried back to her seat, shaking again slightly, Jackson by her side.

"You really are mad, aren't you?" he blinked.

"Hush." she said, shaking her head as the guards clomped back up the aisles. Some were bleeding profusely, others looked dazed and about to collapse.

"There will be no more executions."

Lisa sighed with relief.

"However we will be receiving reinforcements in a few moments. Guard will be heavier, and we suggest that you do NOT try any more clever tricks. They won't work this time."

And then the speakers fell silent.

Lisa huddled in her seat under the blanket. It was still very, very early in the morning and she was tired, cold, hungry, and miserable. Her knees hurt and quite suddenly she realized she was…wet.

Blinking slightly, she bent over and examined herself.

Dammit.

"What?" Jackson asked, startled by her mental blast of frustration.

My period started. Fuck! She squeezed her thighs together and grunted.

"Uh…oh, lord above." he moaned lightly, putting a hand on his forehead. "Just what we need…more blood."

"Shut up." she hissed lightly, then as a guard passed she looked up. "Um excuse me, I've just…um…I've just started my period. I need to use the washroom."

He gave her a blank look. Luckily he wasn't one of the guards Jackson and she had thwarted.

"I'm going to bleed all over the seat if you don't let me use the washroom!" she protested, finding a leftover napkin and swiping at it, holding it up for him to see.

"Jeezus." he leaned back slightly, waving his gun in the direction of the washroom. "Get!"

She needed no further instructions – getting up she ran into the washroom and locked the door, sitting down on the toilet and taking off her bloody undergarments.

Jackson leaned against the wall. "That's so utterly creepy…"

"Yeah, well, the men work the mines and the women make the babies." she said dryly, wadding up toilet paper and using it as a temporary pad as she washed the blood out. "I didn't think it was happening tonight. But I guess with my stress levels…it sped it up a bit." she scowled. "Dammit. And of course no 'sanitary napkin' dispenser. Looks like I'm stuck in here for a while."

"As long as I don't have to look at it the whole time. Yuck." Jackson made a face. "Glad I'm not a woman."

"Yeah, well, deal with it. THIS is why men will never outlast women; they're too squeamish." she poked fun at him as she dried her underwear with the blower.

"Hey!" he protested. Then, quite suddenly, he coughed and blood splattered her shirt. "Ugh…"

"Shit. Oh, no, not again…" she murmured, looking from her ruined white blouse to his pale face and shaking form.

"It's…it's worse…" he managed, stumbling over to the toilet and retching into there.

She bit her lip and rubbed his back lightly, trying to get his tense muscles to ease up so he wouldn't fight and bleed so much. "Stay calm. If you seize up too much you'll cough up more blood…"

He tried to relax, but it was hard. His body was wracked with spasms of pain, his head was spinning, and his knees shook. They gave way and he hit the ground hard, moaning in pain as he leaned his forehead against the cool metal wall of the washroom. "What's…what's happening to me?"

"I don't know." she sighed, kneeling beside him and rubbing his back lightly to try and ease his hurting body. "I wish I knew…"

To Be Continued…