Always…

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

Chapter Four

At preciously 5pm, the intercom for the gate went off, announcing the arrival of Dr. Jonathan Crane. Lisa did not even bother to look at the camera and just buzzed the cab in. A few moments later, the doorbell rang and she ran to open it, excited at the prospect of maybe seeing Jackson again. All afternoon, she had been thinking about Jackson and their meeting in the airport, their fight, and the time spent in the hospital together.

Lisa swung the front door open and froze. Could it be? Could it be?

"Jackson!" she cried joyfully, wrapping her arms around the dark haired man in front of her.

Jonathan Crane was stunned. The obviously pregnant, curly haired woman who answered the door was hugging him. Him! A respected psychiatrist—unless you had been talking with Rachel Dawes, the ADA that was—being hugged by an unknown patient!

"Mrs. Rippner, I'm not Jackson," he said coolly after she stopped hugging him for a moment.

"You're not?" Lisa asked, confused. He had to be Jackson; he had to!

"I'm Dr. Jonathan Crane, remember?"

"I'm sorry," she apologized, her spirits crushed. "But you looked so much like him…"

"It's a common reaction from patients suffering for post-traumatic stress disorder," Jonathan said calmly as Lisa led the way into the extravagant house. He kept his glasses-covered blue eyes open for clues to Lisa's personality and her relationship with Jackson.

"What?"

"Post-traumatic stress disorder is a medical condition related to traumatic experiences. I believe that you might have it. Why it has taken so long to be diagnosed, I'm not sure," Jonathan clarified.

He spotted a few framed pictures upon the mantle of the fireplace once Lisa led him into the living room. He stopped in front of them and carefully examined the pictures. He could feel Lisa's green eyes boring into him, but he did not flinch or rush his examination.

All the photographs seemed to have been taken around the same time and all of them focused on two people—Lisa Rippner and the man he assumed was Jackson. Lisa was not pregnant in any of the photos, and Jackson assumed that they were taken several months ago, shortly before Jackson's death. He could see the resemblance between him and Jackson and he was slightly disturbed by it.

"What makes you think I have this disorder?" Lisa asked and he turned around to face her.

"Mrs. Rippner," sighed Jonathan Crane, as he walked over and sat down on a couch and removed his glasses. "You are showing all the classic signs of PTSD. I won't know the extent of it or what brings it on for some time. I'd like to help you though, if you want my help."

"You'll help me?" Lisa's voice was hopeful. Could he stop the pain? Could he help her forget Jackson? No… Jackson was sitting in front of her. "Jackson…?"

"Mrs. Rippner, it's Dr. Crane. I'm not Jackson, you're just seeing things."

"Jackson? Where are you?"

He decided to try a different tactic. "What are you seeing?" he questioned.

"Jackson," she said softly, grabbing Jonathan's hand. "You're here. You came back. Here, feel."

Jonathan was about to protest; yet Lisa had already place his hand on her round stomach. He could feel the baby inside her, and the child kicked his hand. He could not help but smile. It was so wrong that he was here, experiencing this while the baby's father was rotting in a grave because his wife killed him. Dr. Gruber had told him about Lisa's admittance to killing Jackson Rippner. Why, he did not know and he intended to find out.

"Lisa," Jonathan said, suddenly dropping all formality. "It—it kicked."

She smiled at him. "Yes, she did. It's your daughter, Jackson. Our daughter."

No, it was wrong to let her believe that he was Jackson. He had to stop it.

"Lisa, I'm not Jackson. It's Jonathan, Jonathan Crane. Can you tell me what's going on?"

"Stop lying, Jackson," she teased.

"I'm not."

Fear entered her green eyes. "You're not Jackson! Get away!" she screamed, jumping away from him.

"That's right. I'm Dr. Crane and I'm here to help you. I'm here to help you, Lisa," he said softly in a soothing tone to calm the distraught woman. He kept his distance for the moment.

"Help me, please," she begged. "He won't leave me alone!"

"Tell me."

"Jackson, he won't stop. He's in my head and he won't leave. I see him, he's accusing me of lying and he's strangling me. I see him everywhere. I thought, I thought you were him, but, but you're too nice," Lisa explained quickly, trying to recall as many scattered images as she could.

"Have you been having nightmares about him?" Jonathan asked and he saw Lisa nod.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry to ask this—I'm just trying to figure out his normal behavior—but did Jackson ever abuse you?"

"Yes and no," Lisa replied. "I had amnesia when we met again, after he tried to kill me. He convinced me that I was someone else and I believe him because I had feelings—an attraction—to him."

"Was he violent in the hospital?"

"No, far from it. He was kind and charming, and I loved him—yes, I really loved him. We were married and then we came here. Someone broke in and he lost it. He was rough and I started to remember what happened. We fought… we fought and I, I killed him!" Lisa sobbed.

"What is Jackson usually doing when you see him?" Jonathan prodded, though he knew he was asking strange questions. He should be letting her do the talking, not be trying to steer her in whatever direction he needed.

"He's just sitting beside me, talking to me, playing with my hair, or he's hurting me. Or it's that fight again…"

He knew he was rushing it, but he had to figure some things out while she was open to speaking with him. "Can you tell me how he died, Lisa?"

"No, I don't want to. I don't want to…" Lisa's voice trailed off and she started fighting an invisible force, and she slowly sank to the floor. "Dr. Crane! Dr. Crane! Help me! Jackson, no! I didn't mean to! I still love you! Jackson, please! You're hurting me!"

Jonathan knelt down beside her and pulled her hands from her throat. Lisa slowly stopped struggling and returned to normal, her eyes looking deep into his blue ones.

"Thank you for stopping him," she whispered. "Thank you, Dr. Crane."

Author's Notes:

I'm trying to make this believable, but I'm almost thinking that Dr. Crane will step over the lines in order to get what he wants. Enjoy!