On Your Mind

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Red Eye!

Chapter Five

"That's what I thought," Philippe sighed, shaking his head softly.

"Is there anything that can be done? Is there any way to legally stop him? Please, you've got to help me…" Lisa was begging; her worried mind filled with terrifying images.

He can't be allowed to hurt her the same way he hurt me. I can't let him do that.

"Miss Reisert—"

"Lisa," she corrected.

"Lisa, no one can stop him because he doesn't exist. Jackson Rippner is dead and so is your daughter. You are having delusions brought on by the trauma of the death of your baby."

She shook her head vehemently. "If I were having delusions, then it would be of a happy life. I wouldn't be dreaming about him."

"I'm here to help you learn to deal with your memories of him and move on. You can still have a happy life if you follow procedure—"

"Screw the rules!" snapped Lisa angrily. "He already threw them out the window anyways!"

"Lisa—" Philippe started to reason with her but she was no longer listening.

"Don't 'Lisa' me. I know what's going on and you don't give a shit. I know what I'm dealing with and I'm not insane. He wants you to believe that. Why else would he disappear at the same time? He's playing you like a puppet!"

Just like what he's done to me for the last year and a half. He plays with people's minds for fun. It's all just a petty, little game to him; nothing more.

Philippe seemed taken aback for a moment. Then he boldly approached the irate woman and placed his face mere inches away from hers. "Tell me how you know that I'm not playing you. For all you know, I could be working for him."

Her face fell. His words had stolen her thunder; her drive. She deflated faster than a punctured balloon.

"No, no… You can't…"

Even Jackson's not that cruel, right?

"To you, everything is one big conspiracy. Lisa, you're paranoid. In your eyes, everyone is out to get you. That's why you are resenting me even though I'm trying to help you. I would never dream of hurting you," he said calmly; falling into a comfortable, yet professional tone.

"You don't believe me…" Lisa whispered quietly. No one believes me because of him.

"No, I just believe that your version of reality is twisted—"

"My brain is fine," she snapped. "It's the rest of me that's broken. You have no idea what he's done to me. You can't even begin to understand, so don't even waste your breath."

Inside my shell, no one can hurt me. Even he can't touch me inside my wall of protection. Maybe, just maybe I can lock myself inside once more— away from him. He can't win. I won't let him.

She felt her body begin to grow numb. She was slowly slipping away from reality and the pain that engulfed her. She was escaping as best that she could in her current state.

"Oh no, no, no!" she vaguely heard Philippe muttering.

A wide smile was crossing her face. Soon, he can't hurt me anymore. I'll be safe.

"What if I believed you? What if I helped you find him?" Philippe was stalling. She knew he was.

She listened anyways; putting a halt to her drifting.

"And?"

"What if I could help you get your daughter back?"

"How?"

"I'm a psychiatrist, so they're waiting on my opinion as to your mental state. If I give you a clean bill of health, then they'll release you in a few days as they would any other mother. From there, I can pull some strings and dig up whatever dirt there is on this 'Jackson/George' character. Sound like a plan?"

"In return, what do I have to do?" Lisa questioned him. There's always a catch.

"No more catatonic states. No more fighting my questions. I need you to be open and honest with me. If we're going to find him, then I need to know everything about him." Philippe paused for a long moment before he continued. His soft, dark eyes stared deeply into hers. "Lisa, I need you to confront your memories."

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Lisa was walking towards him with a cheerful grin plastered upon her pretty face. Her flowing sundress accented her slim and trim figure. The mixture of pink, red, orange, and yellow deepened the red tones of her curly hair. Her green eyes sparkled brightly in the sun.

" Jackson!" she called joyfully, waving to him.

He smiled at her; then turned to the young girl sitting beside him in the well-maintained garden. Her dark hair was parted down the middle of her scalp and each half secured in a pigtail. Abby was now a precocious five year old and very advanced for her age.

"Leese," he whispered as he grabbed his wife by the waist and pressed his face into her hair. The sweet scent of her shampoo and perfume lingered and filled his nose with smell that said 'Lisa' to him.

"Miss me?" she questioned with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Always."

His hungry lips attacked hers in a fevered passion. He pulled her closer to him, and smirked inwardly as she returned his kiss. Her slender hands wound in his hair and she released a sensual moan as he turned his kisses towards her neck.

Abby was forgotten—their child had disappeared from sight. It was only them and their love.

"Mr. Rippner?" called Norma, stirring Jackson from his dream world. After his early morning wake-up call, he had fallen asleep once more. Or at least, attempted to.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if you'd heard from Mrs. Rippner. Little Abby seems to be looking for her mama…"

"No, I haven't heard from her."

"What's her name?"

Jackson smiled to himself. "Lisa, her name's Lisa."

"Do you think she'll come back?"

"I know she will." I've got her child— why wouldn't she come back?

'I'll leave you alone now, Mr. Rippner." Footsteps on the wooden floor signaled her retreat towards Abby's room as well as her own.

It's about time… Meddlesome woman…

"You'll come soon, Leese. I know you will. You miss me almost as much as I've missed you. We're kindred spirits—you and I—and it pains us both to be parted. But soon, we'll never be parted again. You'll be mine forever."

He turned to the small picture on his nightstand. It was a photograph that he had snatched from her apartment and then edited himself. It was actually her wedding picture with her late husband. Using his computer, he had digitally replaced her dead husband with himself. It was now their wedding picture—another piece of the allusion.

Dozens of similar photographs filled his home. Some of them were snapshots that he himself had taken all those months ago when he had tracked her prior to the Keefe assassination. Others were stolen without her knowledge.

Her side of the closet was now filled in with the brand-new clothes he had bought. Her half of the spacious bathroom was littered with her personal belongs. Jackson had even placed some of her hairs that he had saved from his trips to her apartment well over a year ago onto her new hairbrush. Tags were removed from the clothes and her favorite books were lying haphazardly upon her nightstand.

Her jewelry and make-up were set up at a small vanity table that he had bought. The entire bedroom was filled with her presence and all it needed was for her to enter the room and complete the image.

Jackson had even sprayed her favorite perfume over her side of the bed and soaked her pillow in the flowery scent. He now had it clutched in his hands and was softly stroking it.

All I need now is you, sweetheart. Everything else is done.

Author's Notes:

Jackson and his insane dreams. Who here thinks that he's finally cracked? Since they're drawing nearer to reuniting, it made more sense to split the chapter between the two. I'm not sure if future chapters will be the same or not.

Well, at least Lisa seems to have Philippe on her side at the moment. Surely she's not looking forward to dealing with the memories.

Enjoy and thanks a bunch for the reviews!