Disclaimer: Why must we always do these stupid things? I mean, no one's going to sue us. I'm in a rebellious mood.

Oh fine, I don't own Red Eye. Otherwise this story's mine.

Chapter 1

"Here, let me help you with that." A portly middle-aged woman rushed towards Lisa Reisart. She had curly brown hair of an improbable shade and a pair of cat-eye glasses. Lisa got a firmer grip on the heavy box in her arms. "Nah, I'm fine, thanks Annie." Annie Finley hurried forwards again to hold open the front door of her large Victorian-styled house.

"I'm so glad you're here," Annie said enthusiastically. "I finally get to spend some time with my favorite niece!"

Lisa smiled. "Where should I put this box?" Her aunt turned and led her up the staircase and to a large bedroom at the end of the hallway. When Lisa stepped in, she was assaulted with pink. There was a pink bedspread with pink pillows, a pink-painted vanity, and the wallpaper depicted pink butterflies hovering over pink flowers. Lisa inwardly groaned. This was the room she had had since she was a kid, and she might've liked it then, but now… Typical of Annie to keep things the same. "Um, you know what, I think I'm just going to rest for a while, the drive up here was horrible." Lisa bent and set the box down on the ground.

"Oh. Oh, alright, well I will just be downstairs, dear. I'll help you bring in the rest of your things later, okay?" Annie gave her an impulsive hug and Lisa laughed.

When the door had shut behind her aunt, Lisa slowly collapsed down on the bed. Everything was just as it had been. It seemed like this place never changed. Lisa stared at her reflection in the mirror of the pink vanity.

The whole reason Lisa had come to her aunt's house was to escape from what Charles Keefe called, "Suspected attempts on her life." Not that anything had happened. But since Jackson had escaped from the hospital, it seemed that everyone in Lisa's life had been on high alert—except for her. After the events of that hellish red eye flight, Lisa had waited for… something. She felt like she should feel the way she had after she had been raped. But she didn't. There was a word for it.

Triumphant.

Lisa had won. She had defeated Jackson Rippner, and if that wasn't proof that she really was a strong person, then she didn't know what was. The weak Lisa that hid in her house and was a loner was gone, replaced with a more confident Lisa. There was finally closure.

But, as they say, when one door closes, another door opens.

The aftermath of the red eye was a whole lot of lies and cover ups. Lisa Reisart had actually never met Jackson Rippner, and the man who was responsible for sending him to the hospital with multiple punctures and bullet wounds was actually one of Charles Keefe's bodyguards. This lie kept the media away from Lisa, for which she was extremely grateful. The man lying dead in front of her house was the product of a nasty accident.

And so a month passed in which Lisa, her father, and Cynthia were quite comfortable.

Three days into the second month after the red eye, Lisa received the phone call. Charles Keefe requested her presence. A car would be coming for her shortly. Jackson Rippner had escaped from the hospital.

Lisa remembered hanging up the phone and sitting down on the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees and simply staring somewhere into the distance. She had been able to put Jackson from her mind quite completely, until he was just a sort of dark shape. But now suddenly she could see him again and she didn't like it.

Keefe had told her in a worried voice that Yes, Jackson had managed to escape from the hospital and there were unfortunately no leads on where he was. It would be better if she decided to stay away from any of the places she normally frequented for a while, in case Mr. Rippner was bent on any ideas of revenge. Yes, that meant no work. Yes, she could tell her father and Cynthia, but no one else.

At first Lisa had shook her head and told him that she was perfectly capable of protecting herself, finding the idea of Jackson coming to search for her ridiculous. After all she had done to him she doubted that he would even want to be near her. Good. So Keefe gave her a week to 'think about it'.

A week in which Lisa would catch herself remembering Jackson and thinking about him. Worrying slightly that Keefe was right. Worrying more about the odd twinge she got in her stomach when she remembered the man from the Tex Mex. Lisa agreed to leave.

She stared at the ceiling above her and sighed. Lisa hopped off the bed and went downstairs and to the kitchen, where Annie was making pancakes. Annie lived on pancakes. "I'm gonna go get the rest of my stuff."

"Alright, dear, here, let me help you… Oh shoot, stupid pancakes, just a minute…"

Lisa laughed and felt a weight begin to lift off of her shoulders. She would be safe here. Jackson and the events of the red eye were gone and done with. "It's okay," she went out the kitchen door and towards her car. Annie lived in a neighborhood of old homes, a white picket fence separating her from the neighbors on the right and a hibiscus hedge separating her from the neighbors on the left. The sun was setting, bathing the sky pink, and Lisa could hear the sprinklers in the neighbor's yard. She watched an old station wagon pass by on the street. She heaved her bag over her shoulder and went back to the house.

Annie was seated at the table and dousing her pancakes with blackberry syrup. There was a plate sitting at the spot next to her, which Lisa gratefully slid into, leaving her luggage by the door. Another hit of familiarity—the plate was the same flowered one Lisa had used since she was about six. "So," began Annie. "Tell me about this Jackson Ripper my brother has told me so much about." Annie's brother was Lisa's father.

"It's Rippner," Lisa said tersely. She poked at the pancakes in front of her.

"Oh. Well, I heard what they put on the news, and you know they didn't even mention you, but Joe says you had a huge role in it! And I do love that Keefe man, so handsome…"

Lisa's head jerked up and she gave her aunt a scandalized look. "Earl!" she jerked her head towards the urn sitting on the shelf.

Annie shrugged. They both looked away and then back at each other, Lisa trying to hide the twitch of her lips. Annie started it. Soon they were both laughing, an almost bitter joke. Earl had been Annie's husband for twenty-five years, but had died of a sudden heart attack five years ago. Mourners in the form of women Annie—and supposedly Earl—had never met answered the suspicion that had been there all along. Earl Finley had been far from faithful.

Rolling her eyes, Annie sighed. "I honestly don't know why I still have that dumb thing. You know, since you're here, I think we should finally spread his ashes somewhere. Get rid of the dang things."

"I agree. Maybe we could pour them in a swamp."

Annie chuckled appreciatively. She shoved the last of her pancakes in her mouth and leaned back against the chair. "You still haven't told me about this awful Jackson."

Lisa accidentally bit her cheek. "Ah, hasn't my dad already told you?"

"Bits and pieces. Probably only what you told him. You didn't tell him very much."

"There's really not that much. I met a guy on the plane, he told me that if I didn't change Keefe's room he would kill Dad, I stabbed a pen in his throat. He followed me to my house and tried to kill me and Dad. Keefe changed it all around and made it look like I really didn't do anything." Lisa pressed her tongue to the cut inside her cheek. The iron-y taste of blood made her take a big gulp of water.

Annie surveyed her niece skeptically. There was more to this and she knew it. "Well, you can stay here as long as you need to until they find that psycho." She got up and began washing her dish, pausing to grab Lisa's. "I was thinking that tonight we could go walk around town, we could go to that ice cream place you love."

"Sam's?"

"Of course."

"Okay! Let me just go change." Annie smiled as she heard her niece run around the corner and thump up the stairs. It was nice to have the house filled with her happy presence. Annie lifted a wet dish from the sink and towards the dish rack next to her. It was slippery and slid to the tips of her fingers. Annie thought she could still hold onto it and in slow motion, the dish slipped further and further… With a crash it hit the floor.

Annie stared at it dumbly, the broken pieces of china surrounded by a fine dust and smaller sharp pieces. An ominous sense of foreboding came over her and she realized her fingernails had been digging into her hand quite sharply.

Lisa bounced into the kitchen, her purse in her hand. "Oh, you dropped my plate! I hate it when that happens. I'll clean it up." Annie gazed at her niece's back. That's right, that had been Lisa's plate…