"Something Changed" - Alternate Restroom Scene

[Jyoti_J]

Hey all! I'm a newbie here--but thought you might enjoy this fanfic I just wrote here. It's rather condensed and obvously much shorter than most fanfic chaps (which I myself prefer, but we'll see). Here's the first entry. Bon Apetit! Be postin' more very soon.

Part 1

Slowly, wearily Lisa made her way to the airplane restroom. She felt completely beaten as she advanced down the narrow corridor between seats, seeing in the darkness only by aid of the weak sterile-looking floodlights shining down on the passageway and the occasional passenger seat light turned on here and there to reveal the occupants—all blissfully doing blissfully normal things, Lisa’s mind flashed. The bitterness and fear rose like fingers to her throat. Finally reaching the bathroom door, she tugged briefly at the handle before realizing that the small sign on the door said “occupied.” She slumped against the wall to the side, but suddenly felt the hairs rising on the back of her neck—it was uncanny. Involuntarily, she drew in her breath with a start and looked behind her, eyes wide, yet knowing what she would see before she saw it.

Yes, there he was. Jackson Rippner. Standing motionless in the corridor, his back to the light, casual, hands-in-pockets…almost as normal as the other passengers surrounding him—almost. But his face—it was lowered slightly and the dim light only helped to accentuate the acute focus, ferocity, and intensity etched on the strange features. Strange because they were not like anyone else’s—so different, he was so different from every single person on the plane. There was no mistaking the animal glint in his calculating eyes—made even more…chilling….by their color—in his face, right now, they looked like points of ice reflecting a pure blue sky.

If they only knew, if they only knew, if they only knew…Lisa thought wildly, her thoughts taking on a sort of dark poetry in her despair, what sort of being brushes against them so unnoticed at this moment—he is so evil, disgusting, horrible, cold, and…and…breathtaking. Lisa shook her head violently for a moment, turning away—but the word she had conjured up would not leave her mind as easily. What am I thinking of? What exactly does that mean—breathtaking?

The bathroom door opened suddenly, and she looked down questioningly at the young girl with the neat blonde French braid who had since joined her, waiting outside the bathroom.

“You were here first.” The girl said easily, and Lisa disappeared gratefully inside the tiny room, shutting the door with a click. The small girl looked behind her, curiously following Lisa’s final gaze down the corridor, and spotted the creepy man who was still standing like a statue, staring. He moved as she looked at him however, and seemed reluctant as he tore his eyes away from the bathroom door. The girl frowned in puzzlement.

[Pukkina]

Good work so far! Keep going or I will get very, very angry.

[Jyoti_J]

Thanks so much for the comment, redeyefan...

Here's part 2 and 3 (obviously)

Part 2

Inside the bathroom, Lisa collapsed to the floor, the tears coming large and fast now—now that she was finally alone. The confining little room she was in felt so much less a prison than the main cabin outside that it made her cry all the harder, knowing full well that she would soon have to go out and face it all again—she would have to face him again. She felt horrible—her daddy……she found herself throwing up into the airplane toilet. Crouched on the floor of the bathroom she reached her lowest point—What am I going to do? What the f**k am I going to do? Her sobs even in here had to be smothered and her brain was operating at 90 miles an hour—names, faces, and images went bumping and swirling around in her brain so fast it made her nauseous. And one face in particular kept coming back—Jackson Rippner. His leering, smirking, damned visage kept coming back to haunt her, and to her horror other images of him came flooding in as well.

Such recent memories of him when she had first met him in the airport—what had she thought of him? That first initial sight of him standing behind her in line, sitting across from her in the restaurant, helping her load her baggage into the above compartment in the plane—back then, he was…well, he was…charming. And handsome, and mysterious, and capable, and so charming again, and…breathtaking. She bit her lip as she acknowledged the word again. Yes, damn it. He was breathtaking in so many ways—some that weren’t so attractive—not by a damned long shot—but breathtaking nonetheless. What the hell went wrong?

She sighed, shook her head—she was delirious, hysterical, thinking complete random nonsense she knew. And then it came again—what am I going to do? There were other lives at stake here—not only her father’s and her own. Think, think, think, think, think, come on! Think of a f**king brilliant plan that saves the day. Think, think, think of something!

She slowed her breathing, and finally pushed her hair out of her face with an effort.

“Okay…” she began, “okay…get up.”

She pulled herself to her feet slowly but decidedly, and collected herself in the mirror. I’m falling apart—I look awful. Can it be that only a few hours ago that was me? All calm and collected, handling the testy hotel customers like nothing at all. She washed her face quickly and absently, buying time to think of a plan of action. It was not in her nature to give in to the demands of someone like Jackson without a fight—it never occurred to her. There had to be some way out, right? Some way to change things? She looked down at her hands covered with soap and then looked up quickly at the mirror again in sudden realization. Shifting into action, she pumped soap into her hand and traced words onto the mirror—18F HAS BOMB. Hopefully that would start something.

Heart racing now, and rushing to get back to her seat before Jackson came to figure out what was taking so long, she flung open the door. But the instant she did her racing heart almost stopped completely—her stomach plummeted as if the plane was just taking off again. Jackson stood not a few inches away from her, right outside the door! Smiling as sardonically as the damn devil himself, it took him only an instant for his swift, piercing gaze to take in the scrawled message on the mirror over her shoulder.

Part 3

“I was just wondering if…” he smirked, then trailed off catching sight of her handiwork. Faster than a blink of an eye he pushed her back into the bathroom, himself along with her, slammed the door, and locked it. Lisa barely had time to realize she was being slammed against the wall inside the tiny bathroom. Her head hit the surface with a sickening thud. Jackson’s long spidery fingers seized her around the neck and encompassed her mouth to smother her screams, and he used his entire body to hold her imprisoned in his grasp.

He was much, much too close for comfort—but Lisa could do nothing. He was in complete control—with a sickening lurch of her stomach, Lisa realized that with his smooth talk he could explain everything however he wanted to the flight attendants or the other passengers, and they would buy it, eat it up. Just like I did, thought Lisa closing her eyes in both panic and failure, absorbing the situation. I’m locked inside a 4 X 4 room with a young, charming…sociopath. A sociopath who wants to kill my father, me, and any number of others--and if I scream it will probably be me they’ll arrest. They’ll never touch him. They’ll never…touch him.

She noticed very distinctly for the first time that he was certainly touching her at the moment, and none to gently. The heat from his hands seared into her skin, and she could feel the hair tumbling over his blue eyes gently bushing her own forehead. His expression wasn’t particularly angry or out of control, but…dangerous. It was difficult to meet his gaze. Perhaps more difficult than it should have been—A wordless question arose in her mind.

But Lisa suddenly noticed that for the last couple seconds she couldn’t breath hardly at all—his gripped around her throat tightened and lights danced in front of her eyes. She choked, gasping for air in the suffocating small room. To be so impossibly close to him…her stomach turned and her arms prickled. No! Her mind screamed. He was pressing closer, closer—chest to chest with her, she met his terrible gaze levelly but breathing hard, still gasping for air, and she could almost feel his lips against her cheek as he spoke.

“Not too smart…Leese,” he hissed, and his words were hidden threats, “I made it so simple for you.” He was quiet, almost whispering, but his grip alternatively tightened and slackened by the whim of his mounting temper.

“…and yet you decided to make it difficult nearly every step of the way.” he continued, steel-eyed. “I have every right to call my man in the Beamer…call him, and tell him…” He smirked ever so subtly and leaned closer to her for effect, whispering, “…to take his time—get that knife nice and…sharp.”

Lisa eyes widened, bloodshot, staring at him in terror.

“I think I struck a nerve, mmm?” He laughed softly, pressing his face into her hair in a mocking embrace.

--all for now...more later o' course. Tanks for the views! ;D

[Pukkina]

I like your redo! It's pretty much awesome...I also love how its written, all the descriptions, and everything...keep it up and hurry up and update!!!

[Jyoti_J]

I'm glad you're enjoyin' it... You're comments are very nice--thank you for the compliment on my writing. I try.
Anyway, here's some more...

Part 4

“I…can’t…breath.”

He drew back and almost laughed again, loosening his hold—not much but enough.

Lisa gulped and breathed as deeply as she could. Her mouth opened slightly, sucking in the air, not knowing when he would tighten his grip again, cutting off her oxygen supply. But just then she saw him glance down at her lips, his own lips parted after speaking, and his impenetrable eyes veiled by the thick lashes—blue, so impossibly blue—his lips—his face… Lisa shook her head. No. She shut her mouth—then her eyes with a shudder, and heard him chuckle darkly at her reaction. Still laughing low and soft, Jackson let his hand trail gently away from her throat and down the side of her neck.

She shivered.

His fingers paused. Snapping open her eyes, Lisa saw his head was inclined downwards, looking at her shoulder. With an inward groan she realized what he was looking at—her shirt tangled in his hand, it had slipped revealing her scar. Without looking down herself, she pictured it—the white and red scar from that horrible, horrible day that seemed just like yesterday standing out in garish relief on her skin. Faint-headed and dizzy, Lisa heard a voice out of the past drift into her mind and her eyes shifted in and out of focus. Ma’am…you’ve been…you’ve been raped and have sustained multiple injuries about the head and neck…do not attempt move please, Ma’am. We’re taking you to the hospital right away. The matter-of-fact words of the police officer who’d answered the call repeated themselves in her memory like some distant nightmare. She didn’t need this now—after all, she already had another nightmare very much in the present. She fought the urge to attempt pulling her shirt back over the scar again—hiding it, forgetting it.

She noticed Jackson was watching her very closely. He stroked the scar on her shoulder with questioning fingers.

“Did someone do that to you?” he asked half in jest, half in odd concern. “Is that it?”

“No,” she said coldly to the assassin.

He smiled dangerously, and something changed. And suddenly what was happening seemed so different than what Lisa expected.

“Don’t lie to me…Lisa. I never lie, and I have never lied to you.”

Lisa couldn’t stand the hands that held her, the face that looked at her, or the voice that questioned her. The room spun as she fought the rising lump in her throat, and the hot tears scalded her cheeks—she never wanted to remember the truth of that day and never wanted to tell it. Lie, lie, lie…lies were so much easier to tell about that day. A sob escaped her to her shame and embarrassment, but she continued to return his stoic stare.

“No,” she said simply, but she was shaking against him. His right hand suddenly shot out and seized her trembling hand, enclosing her fingers in his own. There were strange workings in his expression.

“Tell me, Leese.” His grip on her hand hardened painfully, and she was cramped from being held against the wall so long.

“Why do you want to know?” She whispered, looking away.
He drew her face back to his with one finger.

“I want to know.” His eyes flickered meaningfully.

Lisa smiled bitterly. He was right, as always. It was his lot to demand in the current situation, not explain—and she must obey.

“Okay, Jackson,” she shut her eyes, “you win.”

[Jyoti_J]

And more...

Part 5

Moments passed and when she opened her eyes again he still remained as unforgiving as ever, one eyebrow raised over his right eye. Damn him.

“I was raped, Jackson,” she burst out almost gleefully, stating things as bluntly as possible. “I was raped! He cut me, beat me, and robbed me. I never saw him before or since. He forced his way into my life, and then left me to my pain. That is it, Jackson! That is it!”

This caught Jackson off his guard. He seemed impressed at first—and something else too. Yes, there was something different in Jackson’s expression—something reminiscent of the Jackson she’d first met. He seemed…he seemed almost sympathetic in that moment! His right hand still held her hand up against the wall above her head, but his left hand now reached up and touched one of her hot tears with his fingertip as if curious.

“I see.” Was all he said—but it tore into Lisa’s heart.

For some unaccountable reason, she had needed so much for someone to know and accept as simply—without recoiling, without changing. Even if it was Jackson Rippner. It was the final straw. She couldn’t help it—exhausted with stress, she sank against his shoulder before she knew what she was doing. Jackson stiffened as her cheek descended onto his jacket, but then relaxed slightly. His hand toyed with her hair, and she felt his face coming closer. Looking up, she felt her nose brush his—he was that near. His eyes were focused as he slowly leaned in to…kiss her, she realized—but she turned her head away at the last moment, confused. He stopped, his eyes going cold again, and she drew herself up, attempting to get as far from him as was possible at the moment.

“It looks like things like that are just meant to happen to me,” she observed to the wall.

“What?” he asked bluntly.

“People taking advantage…of me.” She answered.

Jackson smiled then, with his most supercilious expression. But somehow it was not unkind. Very deliberately, he let her go and backed away from her, leaning against the opposite wall. He ran both hands through his disheveled hair as he glanced in the mirror, then he folded his arms and watched her. For the present, he gave her her space.

But as the warmth of Jackson’s body left her, Lisa grew cold. The hairs on her arms stood up in sudden chill, and the emotions rose up so fast and thick that her vision blurred—or was her vision merely blurred with tears? She didn’t know. Lisa rubbed her arms for comfort and riveted her eyes on the striking, but calculating man across from her. Her head still hurt like hell from being slammed viciously against the wall, and the bruises on her arms and neck were becoming visible.

Part 6

“If only…” her voice was sad.

“What?” he repeated the word with the same nonchalance as before.

“If only I could have really liked you…if only I could have…loved…you.” Crying made it hard to speak, and she had difficulty—great difficulty—admitting the last two words anyway. Jackson absorbed her observation with a slight movement of his head and a slow, meditative blink.

“Ha! A lot of good it would have done you, darling.” He scoffed—but half-heartedly. Even as he said it, he stepped closer and touched her cheek with a first gesture of real tenderness. At least, he looked a little puzzled for once.

“And whole lot of good all of that’s doing me now—I suppose it doesn’t make a difference though.” She sighed, trying to collect her thoughts. Her father’s and Keefe’s faces still bumped uncomfortably inside her mind’s eye.

“What do you mean?” he demanded, his voice only a little more than emotionless, as he traced light circles along her cheek and neck with his hand.

Lisa touched the hand that touched her, subconsciously leaning into his cradling palm. She looked at him quite seriously.

“Jackson. You know how I just said…’if only’?” She began, tremulously, scarcely believing her own words. “I lied. There is no ‘if’ in that sentence…there is no f**king ‘if’ in that sentence! What have you done to me, Jackson? It’s your turn to tell me! Explain to me why I love you? Why I can’t help it?” She beat at him spontaneously with her fists and collapsed close against him yet again.

Only this time, little by little, his arms went around her with a soft rustle of cloth.

“Shhh…my little hostage,” he said, as only Jackson Rippner could say it, “My little hostage. I did say I would steal you, didn’t I? And I’ll hold you one for as long as I can—watching you, stalking you.” He smiled wickedly.

He kissed the soft part of her neck below the ear, then her cheek, her chin, and finally kissed her on the lips. “Encased in four tiny walls, thousands of feet above the earth…” Lisa thought briefly, as his kisses swept through her.

[Pukkina]

Wow wow wow! Nice chapter! It made me smile and wish I was Lisa. Ha.