Nikkums once told me to move on from Batman Begins to Red Eye. Took me a month to do it, but woo. Pretty, pretty man.

I don't own Red Eye any more than I own Batman Begins. But again, I wish I did.

Lisa Reisert stepped off the plan, shivering in the cold air. How completely different from her constant summer in Miami. There, it was muggy and so humid the air felt too heavy to breathe. Here, a light snow was falling.

Shouldering her carryon bag, Lisa followed the other passengers to the terminal.

Inside, the air was warmer, with a faint smell of machinery and human bodies. It was no different from any other airport she had been in; maybe a little prettier, but not as pretty as Detroit. Odd how the ugliest cities had the prettiest airports. When she had visited Detroit two years ago, she had been reminded of her childhood ideas about Idlewild. She had never actually visited that airport. It wouldn't be the same, anyway. John F. Kennedy had been a great man, but his name just didn't have the same romance as Idlewild.

Sliding gracefully through the crowd on her way to the baggage claim, Lisa was reaching for her cell phone to let her dad know she had arrived when she heard the voice.

"Jason Carver," it said.

Lisa's head whipped around, searching for the source of the calm, slightly amused voice she had heard so often in her nightmares.

There he was. She ducked behind a handy potted plant.

Jackson Rippner was standing at the ticket counter, smiling politely at the woman in the blue jacket and hat. His hair was a little longer now, a slightly lighter shade of brown, and he was wearing glasses, but she would have known him anywhere. The slightly rumpled dark brown business suit he wore was nearly identical to the one he had been wearing that night, except for the color and the fact that up here in the cold, he wore a sweater under his jacket. She knew the shape of his body, the deceptively slight build, the planes of his face, the color of his strangely compelling eyes.

It was the eyes that had caught her before, making her respond to the flirting of a cute, friendly stranger. It was the eyes that caught her now.

He looked nervous. Not much; it wouldn't be obvious to anyone who wasn't looking for it. She saw it.

She realized he must be on another job.

Lisa closed her eyes. He didn't seem to be after her this time. She didn't think he had seen her. She could run.

And if she did, how many innocent people would die?

"Enjoy your flight, Mr. Carver."

"Hey, Jack," Lisa called loudly, popping out from behind her plant. He ignored her, walking toward the elevator, a boarding pass in his left hand, a briefcase in his right. "Jackson Rippner!" He kept walking. A few other people stopped to stare at her. She darted forward to put a hand on his shoulder. He whirled to face her.

There was not a hint of recognition in his icy blue eyes.

"Can I help you?" he asked impatiently.

"Jackson?" For the first time, she wasn't quite sure.

"No, sorry. The name's Carver." He held up his boarding pass so she could see the name. "Excuse me. I'm going to miss my flight." He took a step away from her.

"Jackson Rippner," she insisted. He put his hands on her shoulders, banging her arm with the briefcase, and stared into her eyes. She saw no emotion in his face other than a slight impatience to get away.

"No," he said. He started to walk away.

"Hold it!" He turned to face her again, definitely irritated.

"Miss, I don't have time for this. I can't miss this flight, all right? Now, if you really need this attention, you can go and find someone else to act out your little scene with you, but leave me out of it.

Lisa looked around. More people were staring. She smiled faintly.

The elevator doors opened. Jackson stepped inside. Lisa followed him. He frowned.

"I'm not your friend."

"I know you're not my friend." He waited for her to continue, his gaze disconcertingly cool. "What are you doing here?"

"This is an airport," he explained. "I'm catching a plane."

"You know what I mean, Jackson." He sighed.

"Look, if I show you my papers, will you believe that I'm not this Jackson character?"

He opened his briefcase and took out a burlap sack…no, a mask, she realized as he pulled it down over his face.

"What—"

A cloud of white gas filled the elevator car.

--

Jonathan Crane stared down at the woman huddled on the floor of the elevator. She was a strong one. The toxin had incapacitated her, but she wasn't screaming, crying, or begging for help. She just sat there, shivering and refusing to look at him.

"Now, miss, exactly who do you think I am, and why are you so anxious to make me miss my flight?"

"Jackson Rippner. Assassinations. Government overthrows." Her voice was tense; she was fighting for control. No tears, no hysterics.

"Never heard of him." He pressed the button for the second floor and slipped off his mask, judging that the toxin had cleared out of the air enough not to affect him. She sobbed once when she saw his face.

"I won't let you get away with it."

Well, this wouldn't do. All he had wanted was to get away from Gotham City while there was still time. But now this crazy bitch had ruined his escape plan. He checked his watch. He was never going to make his flight now.

With a sigh, he pressed the button for the parking deck.

"What's your name?"

"L-lisa."

"All right, Lisa. Get up."

"What, no Leese?" she muttered. "You were much more charming last time."

He reached down and pulled her to her feet just as the doors opened on the second floor. An older couple stepped inside.

"Nothing to worry about, Lisa," he said, pulling her into a hug. He slipped off his watch and pressed it against her back, knowing it would feel like a gun to her.

"Anything wrong, dear?" the old woman asked.

"Our daughter is flying alone for the first time," Jonathan said. "But she'll be fine as long as she doesn't panic." Lisa nodded shakily. The old woman gave her a sympathetic smile.

Jonathan kept his arm around Lisa as they walked into the parking lot, away from the old couple.

"Are you going to kill me?" Lisa asked. Her voice was trembling now.

"Not if I don't have to."

"Are you going to kill my dad?" He stared at her. That was a rather odd thing for her to be afraid of.

"No. Do you have a car here?"

"You know I don't."

"Then you're just visiting Gotham?" She started to cry silently.

"You know I am."

"I'm not Jack the Ripper. I don't know you." He chose a car at random, and had the door open in ten seconds. "Do you have hotel reservations?"