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.

The next time Lisa opened her eyes, she was alone. The light was fading from the sky, it was evening.

Time to get rid of that body…

Jackson poked his head into the room. "Ah. Leese. You're up."

"You shouldn't have let me sleep this long…"

"Now; get up and dressed, we have work to do."

"I know." she said quietly.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing."

He left the room again.

Lisa stood and stretched slightly, putting on dark jeans and an old, faded gray sweatshirt that had once had a logo on it but had long since been worn away. She took down a small shoulder bag, putting a flashlight and a pocketknife in it. Grabbing her keys, she went downstairs to the kitchen.

Jackson was eating some of the baby carrots she'd had in the fridge. "Hey, those are mine!"

"Not anymore." he said, pointing the half-bitten one in his hand at her, then at the fridge. "You should have something to eat, too. Don't know how much energy you'll need."

She sighed; but he had a point. "And you couldn't be bothered to have made anything for me?"

"What am I, your cook?"

"A sandwich would've been fine." she said, getting out some bread and sliced sandwich meat. "Not too hard."

"Didn't know what kind you wanted." he shrugged, eating another carrot.

"You are so goddamn frustrating." she snarled, slapping the sandwich together with a bit of mayonnaise and sitting at the table to eat it.

He got down from the counter and sat opposite her at the table. "You might want to work on your afterglow."

"My what?" she said, flushing slightly in indignation.

"Listen to us, Leese; we're bickering like an old married couple. Let's not do that." he said in a quiet, clipped tone.

She shut her mouth and looked away. "All right."

Lisa ate a bit more of her sandwich, then got out a water bottle and took a sip before closing it again.

"So…d'you know where, exactly, we can dump him?"

"I spent the afternoon looking through maps. We'll have to take a few hours' road trip to get to the nearest inconspicuous trash dump where they burn things." he said, unfolding a map and pointing to a few circles and lines he'd drawn.

"That's pretty far…" she finished her sandwich.

"We can get there and back by morning if you don't stop driving except to get gas." he said, standing up.

"Okay." she took a deep breath, and then stood up. "Let's get going."

They packed the car with a few snacks and other supplies, covered the body-bag with other bags of garbage, and left in less than half an hour.

It was just dusk by the time she hit the highway north, and there wasn't a lot of traffic, considering it was a Tuesday night. For a while, they drove in silence. The only sound Lisa could hear, besides the traffic, was her own breathing. Did Jackson really have to breathe any more? She couldn't really hear him, but then again he wasn't making a big deal out of it.

Jackson was leaning on his elbow and staring out the side window. "There's an interesting shade of blue over there…" he said, gesturing vaguely with a fingertip.

"Really?" she asked quietly, glancing quickly over to the window.

He was right. A very nice shade of blue, just over the horizon.

She turned back to the highway. It was nearly devoid of cars; she passed a few people and then was completely alone.

Except for Jackson, of course.

And her other passenger.

"Jackson…d'you have to breathe any more?" she finally blurted out.

"I – what?" he was slightly taken aback. Then he paused. "Uh…no. I only need to breathe when I want to talk." he shrugged. "Other than that, it's just a habit."

So that heavy breathing during sex was just habit.

She gave herself a mental kick. That was a bad thought to reminisce about.

"You forgot I can hear you." Jackson said quietly. "But it's not what you'd call habit. More like reflex. D'you think I have sex a lot, in my profession?"

"James Bond?"

"More like Oddjob." he snickered slightly. "Except without the hat."

She laughed a little at that. "What would you do with a killer hat?"

"Not get myself electrocuted, hopefully."

Lisa laughed outright. "You died and gained a sense of humor!"

"I always had one; you just never got to see it."

That gave her pause. "Jack…if Keefe hadn't been a target…and we met…what would it have been like?"

He gave her an odd look. "I never thought about that. I didn't have a lot of time to fanaticize outside of missions.

"So you never thought about getting married? Having a wife? Kids?"

"Good Lord, Lisa, are you suggesting – "

"God, no!" she shook her head vehemently, jerking the vehicle slightly. "You tried to kill one of my good friends, you tried to kill my father, and you tried to kill me!"

"Calm down." he shook his head. "I wouldn't want to, anyway. You're far too emotional and way too high-strung."

"Emotional and high-strung? Sorry, Jack, but anyone lacking a 'Y' chromosome has those tendencies." she rolled her eyes.

"I doubt very much that I'd marry a man."

"Is that legal here?"

"In some states. I think." he tilted his head slightly.

She shook her head, chuckling darkly. "Jackson Rippner, assassin extraordinaire, a flaming – "

"Look out!" he yelped, leaning over suddenly.

She screamed and swerved hard to avoid hitting a squat, fat little animal that had wandered onto the highway.

"Skunk." he looked into the rearview mirror once they'd past it. "That would've really stuck…"

"Well at least our third passenger back there doesn't smell yet."

"He will by morning." Jackson said darkly. "Wait. There's the exit we need to take." he pointed to the sign, then the map.

"Right." Lisa nodded, turning off and slowly driving down the long road into the darkness.

To be continued…