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[abzee]

“From Bottom to Surface”

A sequel to Red Eye

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from or related to Red Eye, this is just for fun. Original characters, however, are miiiine.

Chapter 1

“Happy first alternate birthday!” her father cheered and raised his iced vodka strawberry shot. Lisa smiled and toasted back. The others - her mom, Cynthia and Jay – laughed a “Hip, hip, hooray!” and lifted their glasses as well. They were a motley bunch, Lisa thought.

She was sitting between her mother and father. Somewhere along the line her mother, meanwhile remarried, had rediscovered her inner Southern Belle and was wearing her flashy outfit with zest and pride.

Her father, on the other hand, looked suave in his dark suit. Mr. Reisert had started dating again recently. Lisa suspected that now she herself was getting better, her father also felt comfortable enough to be more involved in his own life rather than hers. They still talked a lot on the phone, but not nearly as much as they used to.

Both her parents had displayed their best behavior during dinner. You could tell they had a long history together and that not all of said history had been a barrel of laughs, but they were getting a lot better at talking. Almost like friends who had lost touch and now tried to reconnect after a long, long time.

Across the table sat Cynthia, smiling and her eyes bright with giggles. Secretly, Lisa sometimes compared her to a butterfly … who knew that this shy and timid caterpillar of a girl would turn into such a confident, perky and capable young woman? Cynthia now held Lisa’s old position as floor manager at the Lux Atlantic while Lisa herself had been promoted to assistant of the general manager, quite a spectacular move for someone so young.

Next to Cynthia, Jay – another coworker at the Lux Atlantic - was fiddling with his empty shot glass and every so often, stole the occasional glance at Mr. Reisert (“I LIVE for silver foxes, darling!”). Jay liked to call himself “the token gay guy every girl needs nowadays” and, together with Cynthia, was the closest friend in the whole wide world to Lisa.

Right after she had told off the Taylors in the hotel lobby exactly one year ago to the day, Lisa had suddenly found all thought and strength beginning to drain from her until she felt like an empty shell too weak to think or talk or even stand. Cynthia had more or less dragged her to the nearest bathroom, meeting Jay on the way by coincidence, who, without asking a single question, had helped carry the barely conscious Lisa and locked the door behind them.

It was in this very bathroom that a new Lisa was born. She could hardly remember what was said, but Lisa had poured out her life’s story, screaming, crying, vomiting, purging herself of the last couple of years since the rape all the way through that horrific night aboard the plane from Dallas to Miami.

There was something to be said for those hotel management courses, because throughout the hours, various people had knocked on the door wanting to talk to Lisa. It was Cynthia and Jay who politely, but effectively, fended them all off – no, help wasn’t needed and no, Lisa Reisert was definitely not available for questioning. Cynthia had later told her that she didn’t think they would have been able to get through with it if it hadn’t been for Keefe himself who gave out the order that Lisa Reisert was to be left alone for the time being.

So apart from selected government officials and police, only four other people knew about the night of the red eye flight and had been sworn to secrecy: Lisa’s parents, Cynthia and Jay. The terrorists and their employer had been apprehended, tried and sentenced to death by their own government which had issued an official statement of deepest regret and sincere apologies to the American people in general and the Keefe family in particular. The American government in turn graciously accepted the apology on behalf of the American people and the Keefes - together with oil drilling rights. Diplomatic relations resumed and all was well in the jungle.

As for Lisa’s role in the whole mess … she played none. Officially, the hotel had been tipped off by an anonymous caller, thus rendering her and her loved ones invisible to the public eye. Keefe had spun it that in the greater scheme of things, Lisa Reisert – and Jackson Rippner – didn’t exist, something she was eternally grateful for.

“Allright, it’s time for presents!” Cynthia reached into her purse and produced a little package wrapped in blue. “This is from me and Jay.”

Lisa blushed. “You shouldn’t have … “

“Aw, shut up and open it!”

Laughing, Lisa unwrapped a shirt in an incredibly loud neon colour hitherto unknown to man that said TC FOREVER AND EVER. “TC” stood for “Tough Cookie”, a nickname Jay had coined in one of those long nights with Cynthia and Lisa in the aftermath of the red eye flight. At the time, Lisa hadn’t been sure what to think of it, but she didn’t have much say in the matter. The name had stuck and now everybody but her parents called her TC.

“My turn.” Her father’s voice brought her back to reality and she took the envelope he handed to her.

“Oh, it’s a gift certificate!”

“For?”

Lisa giggled. “For a piece of furniture AND a ritualistic burning of all the Dr. Phil books he gave me.”

A month ago, Lisa had moved into a small, two-room-appartment on the top floor in downtown Miami and had sold most of her old furniture in favor of new stuff. She had wanted a new start with new things to surround her when she came home from work at night.

Also, instead of browsing through Dr. Phil books, she now went to real therapy once a week. After the initial dread of having to open herself up to a complete stranger and trying to juggle being open without giving out classified information, she found herself getting better each month. Of course, Lisa did not tell the therapist about Jackson Rippner – classified – but mostly talked to Cynthia and Jay about him. Payment was a round of drinks in the weekly c*cktail run with her friends that had become a much cherished tradition.

“Allright, allright, allright, now for mine!” Her mother’s manicured hands pushed a little jewellery box across the table. It contained a simple, yet beautiful ring, platinum with a small, sparkling diamond.

“It’s nana’s ring, you know. When she was … when it was close to the end … Duke gave it to her. She told me he said it was for the most formidable woman he ever met.” Delicately, she slipped the ring on her daughter’s trembling finger. “Honey, if anybody should be allowed to wear that after your grandmother, it’s you.”

And with a sigh she added, “Fine then. Before it turns into a complete sob fest, I think we should break this party off. Are you kids doing anything tonight?”

It was Cynthia who regained her composure first. “Nope, need to be fit for tomorrow.” Lisa hadn’t been the only one changed by that night one year ago.

“Why, what’s tomorrow?”

“It’s tasteless movie day. Tomorrow we shall watch the entire American Pie series and get high on junk food.”

“Hear, hear! Our motto: if you can’t feel your arteries clogging up, it’s just not worth it.” Jay’s smile could have lit up a small village as he eyed the cute waiter who presented the check to Lisa’s mom.

“Mom, let me!” Lisa grabbed her purse.

“Nonsense! Spend that money on some clothes - Lord knows I have seen that little navy outfit way too many times.”

“Mom!”

[abzee]

“From Bottom to Surface”

A sequel to Red Eye

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from or related to Red Eye, this is just for fun. Original characters, however, are miiiine.

Chapter 2

Lisa unlocked the door to her appartment and after a split second of standing absolutely still, pushed it open and stepped inside. During the first few weeks after the red eye flight, she had sometimes spent minutes staring at the door while trying to muster up the courage to enter her home.

The reflection in the hallway mirror looked back at her with pensive eyes. Absentmindedly Lisa touched her hair which she now wore in a short bob barely long enough to tuck the bangs behind her ears.

***

For the third time this week Cynthia and Jay had come over to spend the evening with her and yet again, Lisa found herself unable to stop talking about Jackson Rippner. It was like a rut she could not for the life of her break out of. Compulsively, she had to keep going through the motions from facts to feelings to miniscule details that made her angry.

“You know, this whole thing reminds me of a bad breakup,” Cynthia pondered. Noticing the incredulous look Lisa shot her, she quickly added, “Think about it. You meet a guy who seems nice and funny and interesting only to find yourself heart- broken and angry in the end… just on a much larger scale.”

Jay perked up, “Been there, done that. Great guys turned evil is the story of my life. Now, what do we do after a bad breakup? We shop and we get a new haircut and we get hammered out of our minds. TC, honey, you have got yourself a date.”

The following Saturday Lisa watched thick, auburn strands drop to the floor and with the weight of her hair, Jackson Rippner’s weight on her mind seemed to ease up a little, as well.

***

Lisa could tell this was going to be one of those bad nights. With the support of her family and friends she had come far, farther than she had actually thought she ever would, but she still had a long way to go. Sometimes she wondered if she was ever going to make it.

It was impossible to look into her apartment from the outside, yet she always kept the blinds drawn and her windows shut. There was the constant struggle not to fall back into the old traps of denial and overcompensation through her job. Dating was out of the question, she had tried it, but it never worked out. Lisa was having a hard enough time with letting – and keeping – her guard down with the people she KNEW cared about her … with strangers, it was still too hard. Lesson learned, thank you very much.

She lay in her bed and stared at the ceiling. Life had a funny way of painfully flicking your ear. Lisa had tried so unbelievably hard to live nana’s motto of “always move forward”, but it had taken a terrorist to make her see she was lying to herself. In truth, nana’s motto had been “deal with it and move forward”. And dealt with him she had, now for the moving forward.

On good nights, Lisa drifted off to sleep relatively quickly after the relaxation exercises her therapist had recommended and didn’t wake up once. On bad nights like this one, however, she snapped awake at 3 a.m. to the feeling of being slowly suffocated.

Lisa tried to fight it for a while, but eventually gave in and got out of bed. She paced the apartment, back and forth, back and forth, trying to shake the memory of cold blue eyes that burned into her. Faster and faster, sounds and fragments hammered against her skull in a terrifying whirly reel until she thought she might burst from the pressure.

“Leese …”

Blinding pain, darkness.

“Well, suck it up.”

A car smashing through a glass door.

“We’ll talk again.”

The thud of her body crashing to the floor.

“We’ll talk again.”


No. NO. They wouldn’t talk again. Jackson Rippner was dead.

***

“Ms. Reisert, thank you for your time.” Keefe shook her hand and waited politely at the doorstep until she mentioned for him to come in. One bodyguard accompanied him inside, the other kept his post at the door.

Once they were settled in the living room in her old apartment, a month after she had saved his and his family’s life, the Chief of Homeland Security leaned forward and looked her straight in the eye. “I’ll come right to the point. Jackson Rippner has died last night from complications of his internal injuries. I wanted to tell you in person.”

It was as if someone had wiped Lisa clear of all thought and emotion. Reflexes still worked, though, as she managed a flat “thank you” after a few seconds.

“He didn’t regain consciousness except for brief periods and even then he wasn’t much help. He could hardly talk.” Keefe smiled warmly, with just the faintest touch of grim satisfaction. He lightly touched her arm before he pulled out a file and a note.

“Ms. Reisert … I don’t know if this helps. It might … for closure. Rippner’s body was cremated and the ashes buried in an unmarked grave at the State Penitentiary. This is a pass with directions, if you ever feel you want to go.”

Mechanically, Lisa took the piece of paper and starting toying with its edges.

“And this is the official notification of death I received. Would you like to …?” This time, he didn’t hand her the file, but waited until she reached for it.

Lisa’s eyes scanned the document: size, weight, particular characteristics. A lot of medical jargon that she did not comprehend except for “appendectomy scar”.

***

It was always this “appendectomy scar” that seemed to pave the way back into a quieter state of mind in those restless nights. Jackson Rippner hadn’t been a devil, he hadn’t been all powerful and invincible. He had been human and she had beaten him.

Two weeks after Keefe had told her, Lisa and her father had visited the site. Side by side they had looked down at grave number 312, each caught in their own world for what seemed like hours.

Finally, her father’s gaze rested on her. “How do you feel?”

“I want a headstone.” Lisa’s voice had been raw, broken. “I want a headstone that says ‘Here lies Jackson Rippner, definitely dead and can never come back’.” Tears in her eyes, spilling over her cheeks, but she hadn’t noticed. “I want to claw through the earth, rip open that urn and run my fingers through his ashes. THIS is how I feel.”

For a few more minutes they had stared at the ground until her father carefully, tenderly enwrapped her in a hug.

The next day, Lisa had started therapy.

And now here she was. A year after the red eye flight at 5 a.m. in the morning, Lisa felt the trembling subside slowly. It was like diving up from the bottom of the ocean, choking and flailing, sounds becoming distinctive, seeing the light dance from above until she was back at the surface, gasping for air.

With a quiet sigh she turned off all the lights and crept back into bed - at least she hadn’t pigged out on scrambled eggs this time. The thought seemed to travel from her brain straight into her stomach which growled in return.

Damnit!

[abzee]

“From Bottom to Surface”

A sequel to Red Eye

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from or related to Red Eye, this is just for fun. Original characters, however, are miiiine.

Chapter 3

After a couple of hours of sleep, Lisa awoke to the sound of the doorbell ringing. sh*t! She had slept right through her alarm.

“I’m sorry, make yourself comfortable while I take a quick shower.”

Jay looked her over. “Bad night? You wanna talk about it?”

“No thanks, I’m paying you guys enough drinks as it is. Be back in a second.”

He trailed her to the bathroom. “You know, one of these days you’ll have to answer that question with ‘No. I had wild premarital sex with some random guy I picked up at the club last night.’ or else this whole thing will get boring.”

Lisa giggled. “Out!”

Half an hour later Cynthia arrived (“Sorry, but there’s this new girl at the reception and she keeps calling me.”) with their supplies for the day and the three settled on the couch.

Cynthia watched her cell suspiciously as if she was willing it not to ring anymore while Jay snatched the remote. Lisa leaned back into the soft cushions and ran her fingers through her wet hair. The terrors of last night seemed far away, the sun was shining and her friends made her laugh even more so than the movies did.

Several hours later, Cynthia threw the box of cookies back on the table. “I cannot eat another one or I’m going to hurl. Hey, I’m surprised your father didn’t call after that important anniversary yesterday.” With a sigh she picked up the box again. “Last one. Can’t stop! Ah!”

“No, he’s trying to hold back.” Lisa cursed under her breath. Next time she would brush and blowdry her hair right away.

“How do you know?” Jay was stretched out on the floor, going for full overeater’s drama.

“My mom told me he told her. She also told me that I should tell her if he didn’t. Then she’d tell him to stop.”

“That’s an awful lot of telling.”

Cynthia’s phone rang. “You know,” she said rolling her eyes, “one of these days I’m going to tell HER to stop.” She pressed a button. “Hi Carly. What’s going on?” After listening for a few seconds, she whispered, “Allright, I need to leave, things are not going smoothly at the hotel.”

Jay sat up and yawned. “Okay then, I’ll leave as well. I need that beauty sleep, early shift tomorrow. Are you gonna be okay, TC?”

Lisa grinned. “If I say yes, will you believe me?”

Her friend gave her a peck on the cheek and a slap on the butt. “Nope. But we’re getting there.”

Cynthia gave Lisa a hug. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will, thanks, you guys. Be careful driving, it’s a full moon tonight. People go crazy.”

Minutes later she was alone again in her appartment cleaning up the living room when the doorbell rang.

“What did you forget this time, Cy…” The words caught in her throat. In the hall stood Keefe, dressed in casual clothes instead of the usual suit. He looked slightly uncomfortable, Lisa noticed, even though he tried to hide it.

“Sir? Please come in.” She also noticed that there were no bodyguards this time.

“Thank you, Ms. Reisert. How are you?”

His feeling of unease translated onto her as she eyed him curiously. “I’m doing well, actually. Can I offer you a drink?”

He seemed to ponder the question. Yes, something was definitely wrong. “No thanks, just some water will be fine.”

As she turned towards the kitchen, Lisa couldn’t help but ask, “Do I need a drink?”

That he didn’t reply was answer enough. She slowly walked back to the couch and looked at him. “Mr. Keefe, I suspect you have bad news. I’d really prefer it if we got straight to it.”

Lisa braced herself, but nothing could have prepared her for what came out of his mouth.

“Ms. Reisert, Jackson Rippner is alive and he would like to see you.”

The glasses shattered on the floor. She flinched when she felt Keefe’s hand on her arm, guiding her around the shards to the sofa. “Please sit down, Ms. Reisert.”

It took her another few moments to shake off the paralysis that seemed to have taken hold of her. “The grave.” Lisa’s voice was flat, barely a whisper.

“Pardon?”

“Grave number 312 at the State Penitentiary.”

“Someone else. I am so sorry.”

So they had lied to her. The knot in Lisa’s stomach exploded into blinding anger that seeped into her body, flushing her cheeks that had looked so pale just seconds ago. Her muscles contracted and she clenched her hands in an effort to hold down the bile that was rising in her throat.

“And … he would like to see me?”

“I’m afraid so, yes.”

“With all due respect, sir, there is no ‘would like to’ with Jackson Rippner. He wants to see me. What I don’t understand is why you would give in to him.”

“Ms. Reisert, believe me when I say I feel terrible about this. Back then, I reckoned it would be better for you if you believed him dead. I never thought I would have to tell you the truth.” Keefe’s voice was apologetic, but matter-of-factly. At least he had the courtesy to spare her the flowery speeches. Lisa motioned for him to go on.

“When we found out how exactly you were connected to the attack on me and my family, we immediately took Jackson Rippner out of the hospital into our … care.”

“Jackson Rippner is not his real name, is it?”

“No. But the name’s not important, it’s the person we’re interested in.”

“So the name stuck?”

“Yes.”

No point in hiding from herself. Lisa surrendered to the memories that came back to her one by one. “Call him Jack, he doesn’t like that.”

She wasn’t looking at Keefe, but she still heard the grin in his voice when he said, “Yeah, we know.”

“You know, that man ripped my world apart.”

“I realize that.” Keefe’s hands fiddled with a shard he had picked off the floor. “And I’m no fan, either, to say the least.”

***

Washington, present time.

He sat in his cell on that little bed that was uncomfortable as hell and stared into space. His body was rigid and his face was motionless, but it was the flicker of his eyes that gave him away.

Jackson Rippner was nervous.

If everything went according to plan, Keefe would be sitting down with Leese at this very moment, dropping the bomb. A faint smile touched the corners of his mouth as he rose and walked over to the window. Full moon, how fitting.

***

Lisa got up and slowly walked towards the window, her eyes fixed on the moon.

“Allright, I’m listening.”

[blueeye]

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[abzee]

“From Bottom to Surface”

A sequel to Red Eye

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from or related to Red Eye, this is just for fun. Original characters, however, are miiiine.

Chapter 4

„Ms. Reisert, terrorist managers are a relatively new phenomenon. Up until a while ago, terrorism was solely in the hands of fanatics, zealots. These people are actually invested in their cause, thus prone to making mistakes when they become desperate.”

Lisa wasn’t sure whether it was good for her to hear all this. At the same time, she felt she needed to. Leaning on the wall next to the window, she asked, “What changed?”

“Acts of terror that failed because of that. Also, people nowadays are much more suspicious of certain ethnic groups or nationalities.”

“Something your department is fairly happy about, isn’t it?”

“To a certain extent, yes, to be quite frank.” The transition from Keefe, the family man, to Keefe, the Chief of Homeland Security, was smooth. “The point is, specific groups are checked thoroughly and watched over. Not only by our government, but by everybody – people like you and me.” In fact, the only other person Lisa had ever known who could switch personalities that fast was Jackson Rippner.

Keefe continued, seemingly oblivious to her discomfort. “But that nice American business man? Who would look twice at him, suspect him of anything? You know that better than anyone else.”

The Tex-Mex. God, he had been charming. Accessible. Funny. In a matter of mere minutes, he had cracked her and lowered her defenses.

“Ms. Reisert, be very, very honest to yourself now. When you were on that plane and, say, somebody who clearly wasn’t American had been sitting next to you … don’t you think things would have gone differently if you had just given the slightest notion of distress?”

Lisa loathed to admit it, but he was right. The flight attendant had just assumed that she and that friendly man belonged together and not asked a single question. She looked at Keefe and nodded with burning eyes.

His voice softened. “I know this is much to take. Unfortunately, my abilities to protect you are limited.”

It was like a car crash, Lisa knew she shouldn’t look, but she couldn’t help it. She was literally drawn closer to it as she crossed the room to the couch and sat down. “I guess I understand.”

“We have become aware that coordination and frontline organization has increasingly been taken over by so-called managers. Only we have never been able to catch one alive.”

“So now you do and … what?”

“We study him, get information.”

“Like an extraterrestrial you would probe to see if they’re dangerous? Hostile?”

“That is an oversimplification, but in a nutshell, yes.”

“Let me save you some trouble right there. Jackson Rippner is definitely dangerous and absolutely hostile.” She really, really didn’t want to ask. “Where do I come in?”

Keefe shot her an admiring glance. “We have found that he is a lot more forthcoming if we give in every once in a while.”

“Forthcoming?! You are asking him for information? Does it really take a civilian like me to suggest, I don’t know, torture? Mind drugs? Whatever the hell … Hypnosis? If you are telling me that my life is being spit on because you don’t want to pressure a terrorist, this conversation is over!”

Her body was so tense, it actually hurt.

“Rest assured, Ms. Reisert, we do pressure him. A lot. The thing is, Jackson Rippner is a rare talent. We have gotten everything from him we could with methods I don’t want to get into, but there is still a lot to learn.”

For the fraction of a second, Lisa had the mental image of Jackson sitting in a cage - with Keefe and his men dressed in corduroy pants and lab coats, standing around him and poking him with sticks. Her body started shaking with silent laughter that turned shrill when hysteria kicked in. It threatened to throw her into a dark pit in her mind she was afraid she might not get out of.

Breathe. She forced herself to focus on her surroundings, the furniture she had bought, the pictures on the wall. Breathe. Christmas with dad. Mom’s wedding. Road trip with Jay and Cynthia. No hold on me. Therapy sessions. Laughter. Breathe.

Keefe silently waited for her to regain her composure. He watched her struggle until her body grew limp and the gasps for air turned into steady breath. For a long time, she sat opposite him with her lids closed and her hands balled into fists. When she looked at him again he was momentarily taken aback by the strange light in her eyes.

“So,” Lisa’s voice was cold, “he has information you want and you agreed to give him me in exchange?”

“Ms. Reisert, there is no question of giving you to him. He just wants to see you.”

Lisa stalked over to the wall and ripped off a picture that she threw down on the desk in front of Keefe. “Give him this.”

Cynthia had taken the picture on a road trip to a music festival a couple of weeks ago. She remembered it well … it had been raining all the time, but the weather was hot as hell anyway. Her friend had captured the perfect moment: Lisa wore jeans and a t-shirt that were caked with mud, her short hair was blowing in the wind and with the biggest smile on her face, she flipped off Jay, right into the camera.

Keefe briefly smiled at the picture, before his face returned to a more somber expression. “My bad, Ms. Reisert. He wants to see you face to face. Talk to you.”

“Oh God.” Lisa dropped back down onto the couch, running her fingers through her hair. “This can’t be happening. I don’t want to do this.”

“I understand you don’t want to do this. As a friend, I don’t want you to do this. But I think we both know I’m not here as a friend and that what we could achieve is more important than anything else.” His tone became urgent. “Ms. Reisert, Jackson Rippner can do you no harm.”

A long moment passed.

“IF I do it, if I go down there and visit Jackson Rippner, can you guarantee me it’ll be over?”

“No,” he sighed. Finally, even Keefe, Chief of Homeland Security, appeared to have reached his personal limit.

She just couldn’t believe it. “I’m too good an opportunity to pass up?”

“Ms. Reisert, you seem to be the closest thing to a weak spot this guy has. Hell if I know why - although I’m beginning to understand - but that’s the simple truth of the matter.”

It was over, she just couldn’t take any more. “I need you to leave.”

“Ms. Reisert …”

“Now. I need you to leave.”

“Ms. Reisert, please give it a thought. Call me when you’re ready.”

Mechanically, she took his card. It reminded her of another moment she had felt so empty, all those months ago when he had handed her the directions to Jackson Rippner’s supposed grave.

Halfway out the door, he turned around again. “I don’t need to tell you this is confidential, right?”

One of life’s little ironies, wasn’t it? After all this time and all those therapy sessions learning to let other people in, she was forced to cut them out again. A year ago, she hadn’t been able to imagine sharing her pain with anybody else, but now the thought of having to go through it alone scared her more than anything.

“Good bye, Mr. Keefe.”

[abzee]

“From Bottom to Surface”

A sequel to Red Eye

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from or related to Red Eye, this is just for fun. Original characters, however, are miiiine.

Chapter 5

Another one of those nights, only this time Lisa wasn’t able to sleep at all.

As soon as the first signs of a fullblown panic attack rattled her, she wished she was back in that comatose emotional state she had been in since Keefe left. Lisa could tell this was going to be bad.

When morning dawned, she found herself leaning against the bathroom wall. Her body felt as if it had been hit by a bulldozer but still, her memories gave her no peace. Slowly, Lisa hauled herself off the floor and got in the shower. She felt filthy and the water wasn’t hot enough. Only when the pain finally found a way through to her brain did she notice that the water was actually scalding and that patches of her skin had been scrubbed raw.

How would she be able to get through this day? She had to go to work. Part of her wanted to stay in the safety of her own walls, while the old Lisa screamed to get out and do something, to exhaust herself until she was too tired to think.

In the end, she decided to stay at home. Jay and Cynthia would immediately see that something was wrong and Lisa knew she didn’t have the strength to lie. If truth be told, she didn’t have the strength to do anything. She wrapped herself in her bathrobe and curled up in bed.

Hours went by while she forced herself to relive the ordeal on that red eye flight and the months afterwards up until last night. Whenever it was too hard, she went on anyway, repeating the words “appendectomy scar” like a silent prayer.

Lisa also thought of her grandmother. “Deal with it and move forward.” The situation aboard Fresh Air had been the first one she had dealt with head-on since the rape. The funny thing about hitting rock bottom – and she had certainly hit hers in that small airplane bathroom – was that if you were lucky, you realized it could only get better. There was a strange comfort in that thought, no matter how bad you felt. Back then, she had risked all, her life, her father’s, for protecting someone else. Could she do it again? Could she risk finding herself back at rock bottom for protecting someone else?

***

Washington, present time.

Jackson heard foot steps approach his cell. Marc Whitley, Keefe’s chief dungeon master, judging from the slight limp. Whitley was about his age and just as ambitious.

“You know the drill, Rippner.”

Jackson stuck his hands through the hole in the door and felt cold metal snap around his wrists. He took a few steps back and waited for the door to open.

“News for me, Whitley?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Whitley just smiled at him, that smug smile Jackson hated so much.

“Whenever you’re ready, Marc. I’ll just sit down.” He turned away.

“She’s not coming.”

For a moment, Jackson thought he might scream. He was grateful that his back was turned to the other man, this way he could focus on keeping a relaxed posture while grinding his teeth.

Whitley took a few steps around him until they were face to face. “Disappointed, Jackie?”

The bastard.

“You see, Rippner, Keefe was impressed. She has a whole new life, is close to her family and friends, has a better position at the same hotel. She is over you … way ahead of you, boy, I might add.”

“Good for her, bad for you.”

“Naw, not really. Keefe has ordered some more … tests.” Whitley took yet another step closer to him until Jackson could feel the other man’s breath on his face. “I must say I’m looking forward to that.”

“I suppose you would. Hasn’t helped you much so far, though, has it?”

Whitley looked him over for a few more moments. Jackson just stood there, handcuffed, his legs slightly apart and his face relaxed, as if nothing could hurt him. Which wasn’t true - Whitley knew that for a fact - but faster than you could say “that son of a biatch” Rippner would flash his trademark sh*t eating grin again and annoy the hell out of everybody around.

“Oh Jack. Jackie-boy. Have a nice afternoon.”

“The same to you, Mr. Whitley, sir. And regards to the wife.”

Whitley’s eyes narrowed, he had never told Rippner he had a wife and he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. The bastard must have guessed.

When the door closed behind him, Marc Whitley churned out the sweetest voice he was capable of. “By the way, Rippner. I was kidding.”

Actual silence. Damn, that felt good.

“About what?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.” That felt even better.

***

”Dad, listen. I need to do this.” Remembering Keefe’s advice to always stick as close to the truth as possible, Lisa added, “Keefe has asked me to come to Washington for something involving what happened a year ago. … No, I can’t tell you, I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t looking forward to having the same discussion with Jay or Cynthia. “Dad, please. Don’t worry, okay? I’m gonna be okay and I mean that.”

Her father sounded so worried, it broke Lisa’s heart. “Lisa, I want you to call me when you get there. I want you to call me whenever you feel like it, day or night, I don’t care. Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I need to go.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Call me!”

Lisa hung up the phone.

Once she had decided that she was actually going to go through with it, she had grown restless, angry even. She would deal with him before putting Jackson Rippner’s ghost to rest once and for all.

What pissed Lisa off most, though, was the fact that for the last hour or so, she had been standing in front of her closet wondering what the hell you were supposed to pack for an appointment with your ex-kidnapper. In prison.

***

Washington, present time.

Fine then.

Whitley couldn’t have been kidding about whether they’d interrogate him some more. Jackson knew that his c*cky non-reaction to these taunts irritated the guy, so why put himself in that position.

Whitley also wouldn’t have been kidding about Leese moving on. For all that idiot knew, Jackson wanted her to feel bad (which he did). He’d never do him the favor of telling him something good.

That could only mean one thing. She was coming.

Jackson smiled.

***

[abzee]

“From Bottom to Surface”

A sequel to Red Eye

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from or related to Red Eye, this is just for fun. Original characters, however, are miiiine.

Chapter 6

„Welcome to Washington, Ms. Reisert.“ Keefe stood up and walked around the desk to shake her hand. “Thank you for coming.”

Lisa gave a little sigh. “I guess you’re welcome.”

The Chief of Homeland Security introduced her to one of the bustling sharp-dressed clones that seemed to populate these corridors. “Ms. Reisert, this is Marc Whitley. Jackson Rippner is his main responsibility and he will take you to him.”

She couldn’t really pinpoint why, but Lisa felt uncomfortable in the other man’s presence. The smile he gave her seemed genuine enough, but there was something slightly imposing about Marc Whitley.

“Ms. Reisert, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I must say, you are something of a celebrity around here.” Whitley nodded at his superior. “Right away?”

“That’s up to Ms. Reisert,” Keefe answered.

“Right away. I’d prefer that.” Lisa’s hand instinctively went up to tuck at some strands of her hair when she sensed Whitley reach out to guide her from the office. She was fairly certain he had noticed as he shot her a quick glance, followed by what could have been a smile, could have been a smirk.

“Ms. Reisert, Jackson Rippner will be chained to a chair, there is no chance for him to touch you. I have personally checked his restraints, he is practically immobile.”

Lisa looked at him. Yes, Marc Whitley seemed like the kind of guy who would be good at … restraining people. Probably rattled the chains a little, too.

Again, he appeared to know what was going on in her head. For a moment she thought he might address it, but his voice was neutral when he went on. “The meeting will be held in a special room with guards posted in front of the door and me in the next room behind a glass wall. You are entirely free to terminate the conversation at any time.”

In silence they walked down several corridors until they arrived at a thick door flanked by two men in suits. Whitley put one hand on her back and the other one on the doorknob, politely ushering her towards the room.

“Wait.” Lisa’s eyes were fixed to the floor. Whitley folded his arms, took a step backwards and was about to give her an encouraging speech, no doubt, when she lifted her head. With her chin up, Lisa turned the knob and stepped into the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

“Hello Leese.”

Jackson was slighter than she remembered, paler, and a dark bruise marked his cheek.

“Hello Jackson.” She sat down, thankful for the table that separated them.

They regarded each other carefully for a few seconds and Lisa was determined not to be the first one to talk. Instead she concentrated on returning his blue-eyed gaze evenly. It took every ounce of strength she had not to fiddle and she felt a flash of anger that he could still affect her like that.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“I came here because I was told you wanted to talk. So talk.” Lisa was surprised at how indifferent she sounded.

“Jeans, turtleneck, sneakers … do you intend to do some running today?”

“No, it’s comfortable.”

“That’s a beautiful ring you’re wearing. A present?”

“Yes.”

“Who gave it to you?”

“My mother.”

Lisa realized that since they had started, she had been pressing her back into the chair. With a little shake of the head she leaned forward and rested her hands on the table, fingers entwined.

“Uncomfortable?”

“Yes.”

“I like that new act of yours. Very defiant, in a less dramatic way. It suits your haircut.”

Jackson’s posture, on the other hand, had not changed at all. He sat very upright, the arms at his sides pulled back by restraints. It couldn’t be anything short of uncomfortable, yet he gave off an air of relaxed confidence that irked Lisa. And just for good measure, Jackson winked at her.

“But the shirt that sticks out from underneath that conservative black turtleneck is a little loud, don’t you think?”

“My friends gave it to me.”

“I’m surprised you have any.”

Lisa shrugged. “You’d be surprised about a lot of things.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Again, they lapsed into silence, studying each other until Lisa felt she had enough of their little game. “What do you want, Jackson?”

“I just want to talk to you.” He sounded like a friendly neighbor offering to carry that bag of groceries.

She snorted in return. “You just want to talk to me?”

“Leese, when did I ever lie to …”

“Jackson, if you give me any of that ‘I never lie to you’-bullsh*t, I’m going to clock you.” Impatience radiated from her voice.

“Well, when did I?”

“Pretending to be someone you’re not is just as much a lie as saying one out loud.”

For the first time, he leaned back on his chair. “Point taken.” He smiled. “Just for the sake of discussion, though, when did I pretend to be someone that I wasn’t with you?”

Lisa just stared at him. Bastard!

He brought his voice down to a soothing whisper. “Answer me.”

“The TexMex.” It sounded angrier than she had intended it to do.

“Ah … good times. We had fun then, didn’t we?” Perky. Amused. How did he do this?

“I’m asking you again. What is it you want, Jackson?”

“I already told you.”

“I thought I had made myself clear when I answered that with a …” She snorted again.

“At the risk of repeating myself here … I want to talk to you. Know how you’ve been, what you’ve been doing. Just catch up.”

Lisa gave a laugh that was devoid of all humor. “Allright then. I’m actually doing very well. I spend time with my parents and my friends. I was maid of honor at my mother’s wedding. I got promoted. I go out. Satisfied?”

“Now we’re getting somewhere, although I think you’re leaving stuff out. Am I right?”

“That’s none of your business.” Lisa turned to the glass wall. “Mr. Whitley, you told me I could break this off at any time. Now is that time.”

She looked back at Jackson. “Good bye.”

He shot forward as far as he could and smirked when he noticed her taking the tiniest step back. “See ya around, Leese.”

[abzee]

“From Bottom to Surface”

A sequel to Red Eye

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from or related to Red Eye, this is just for fun. Original characters, however, are miiiine.

Chapter 7

„Ms. Reisert? Excuse me! Ms. Reisert!“ Whitley was running after her, but she didn’t feel like talking to him. Lisa didn’t feel like talking to anybody right now. She yanked herself free as he tried to take her arm.

“Ms. Reisert, please.” Whitley raised an eyebrow when Lisa just glared at him, her jaw set. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, it’s just that this whole building is classified. I can’t let you walk alone. Don’t worry, we don’t have to talk, I’ll just bring you back to the Chief.”

“I take you by your word, Mr. Whitley.”

He kept it. They walked without speaking and when they arrived at Keefe’s office, he merely nodded at her and left after knocking on the door.

“Come in!”

Lisa entered and sat down. She had kept her cool in that stuffy interrogation room, but all the tension she felt inside needed a release soon. It was the old dive up from the bottom of the ocean. Pull yourself together, you can do this.

“Do you need anything? Something to drink? A snack?” Keefe sounded worried and when Lisa caught a glimpse of herself in the window, she understood why. Her face was deathly pale and her whole body language screamed distress.

“No thank you. I would just like to have a moment by myself somewhere. Is there maybe a bathroom … ?” Her mind slid into memories and she bit down on her lip until she tasted blood.

Keefe squeezed her shoulder. “Please stay here. Let me know when you’re ready.”

The click of the door closing behind him opened the floodgates. Lisa hunched over as a wave of nausea rolled over her and pulled her under. She was flailing against the pain rushing at her, breath short and ragged. Yet this time, deep down, a little voice calmed her. You are unhurt, unharmed. Nothing has changed. Realization hit – even though Jackson Rippner was alive, she was actually okay. And not only was she okay, she was angry, angrier than she had been in a long time. She had let herself become a pawn in a game that she had never wanted to be a part of, with rules she couldn’t fathom.

Whitley and Keefe waited outside and immediately stopped talking when she walked up to them.

“Is Rippner still in the room?”

“Yes, Ms. Reisert. Are you okay?”

“I am, thanks.”

“Are you su…”

“Yes.” She paused. “I would like to talk to him again. Please don’t ask me whether I’m sure, I am.”

The men regarded her with a mixture of surprise and barely concealed incredulity.

“One condition, though. This time I want no listeners.” Lisa’s voice was calm.

Whitley cut in, “Ms. Reisert, I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

Lisa looked at Keefe. “Sir, I have done much for you, I think I deserve to have one of my wishes fulfilled for a change.”

Keefe put up his hand when Whitley opened his mouth to speak. “Wish granted. You understand I have to insist on a debriefing immediately afterwards.”

“Fine by me.”

“It’s settled, then. Mr. Whitley, please take Ms. Reisert down to Rippner.”

Whitley looked as if he had been slapped in the face. On their way back he tried to argue with her several times, but Lisa wouldn’t bugde. He gestured for her to stay when they arrived at the door. “Wait here for a moment.”

The guards were gone, which Lisa found a little odd until Whitley brought them out of the room with him two minutes later. He gave her a hard stare and shrugged. “There you go, Rippner’s all yours.”

In the meantime, Jackson had acquired another bruise on his cheek and his lip was bleeding. The look on his face before he was able to transform back into his old cool self told Lisa he hadn’t expected her. Whitley obviously hadn’t mentioned it, either.

“Leese … always good for a surprise.”

“It’s nice you remember.” Lisa leaned forward on her chair, both hands flat on the table.

“And this time, she’s c*cky. What brought you back? I notice the adjoining room’s empty ... where’s Whitley?”

“I don’t know. I wanted to do this in private.” She played with her ring.

Jackson said nothing, but merely looked at her with an expression she found impossible to read.

“You see, Jackson, I don’t want to play games anymore. You wanted to talk to me, fine, I’ll talk to you. BUT … in return I want to know why and I want honesty.”

“It’s a pity you don’t want to play games, they -”

Lisa interrupted his little sing-song dryly, cool. “They are all you got left, I know.”

If her voice was dry, his’ was the Sahara Desert. “Don’t do this, Leese, don’t think you’re over me. And don’t think for a second that I’m helpless.”

“What is it you want, Jackson?”

“I told you. Several times, actually, but you just don’t seem to get it.”

“You want to talk to me, but why?”

“To see how you are.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s your problem.”

It was like a tennis match. For a while, they kept slamming words back and forth in a heated exchange, but it got them nowhere. Lisa grew edgy.

“What is it, Jack, huh?”

“Don’t call me that, Leese.”

“What is it? Just tell me.”

“Don’t be a spoilsport, relax.”

She stood up so quickly, her chair fell over backwards. With slow, deliberate steps Lisa walked around the table to his chair. Jackson followed her with his eyes narrowed and she got a rush from knowing that he was just as much at a loss as she had been.

Another step closer. Her legs touched his knees.

It took all her strength, but when Lisa bent towards him and pulled down his shirt with her finger to touch the scar on his neck, she wasn’t trembling and her voice was steady.

“Someone do that to you?”

She could see he remembered.

“Is that what it is?”

He didn’t react at all how she would have expected. No anger, no spiteful remark, no smirk. Instead, Jackson leaned his head back as if to grant her easier access and looked straight at her. Then he laughed.

[abzee]

“From Bottom to Surface”

A sequel to Red Eye

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from or related to Red Eye, this is just for fun. Original characters, however, are miiiine.

Chapter 8

It threw her and she knew he could tell that it threw her.

“Sit down, Leese.”

So she had hit home after all - Jackson’s voice sounded slightly strained as if he too was struggling with emotion. It gave Lisa enough courage to sit down on the table where she stood, their legs still touching. He leaned forward as far as he could while burning into her eyes with his own, but she stayed where she was.

“This is interesting, Leese. For all that I’m-over-you-drama you’ve been giving me, you seem to remember our little conversations very well.”

“Just because I’m over it doesn’t mean I can’t remember.”

Pause.

“What does the shirt say?”

“What?”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “The shirt your friends gave you. I’m willing to bet a month’s supply of sh*tty breakfast that it has some funny slash inspirational quote on it.”

“It says ‘TC for ever and ever’.”

“TC?”

Lisa wished she had some of his ability to disappear behind a mask of indifference, because she couldn’t quite hide the embarrassment when she answered. “Tough Cookie. It’s … my nickname.”

“Your friends don’t know you very well, do they?” Noticing the look she gave him, he added, “Or they actually know you very well. They know what happened?”

“Yes.”

“They helped you?”

“Yes.”

Jackson smiled at her. “So how does it feel?”

“What?” Lisa wasn’t sure where he was going with this and his smile made her uncomfortable. Restrained or not, Jackson was still a formidable opponent and when it came right down to it, he had resumed back control over the conversation flawlessly.

“After all this time it took you to let other people in, which I’m absolutely positive it did ... how does it feel to have to be alone again? To have to go through it without their help? I’m sure Keefe doesn’t want anybody else to know our little secret.”

Lisa froze. How was it possible that after all these months and no matter how much she thought she had changed, Jackson was still able to sense her insecurities? She got up and walked back around the table, sitting down on her chair again.

Jackson’s expression was almost rapt. “Answer me, Leese.”

Suddenly she realized that he needed her. Whatever it was that he wanted or why he wanted it, he seemed to need her answers just as much as she needed his.

She sighed and no sooner had the words sprung into her mind that their truth instantly comforted her. “I’m not alone.” With satisfaction Lisa noted that he was, once more, surprised. “My friends may not know the details, but they know I’m here on … Fresh Air business. When I go back, they’ll be there for me.”

Looking down on the desk, he seemed to ponder her answer.

“But enough about me, Jackson, how have you been?”

Silence.

“I have been bored out of my mind, Leese. In case you haven’t noticed these monkeys here are not the most entertaining kind and their manners are a little … rough.”

“I’m amazed you’d turn to me for comfort.”

“Do you really want to know?”

Lisa just looked at him calmly and he returned her look with what appeared to be sincere interest. Jackson leaned back on his chair and for the first time let her glimpse a little more of the real thing as he tried to get comfortable, eyeing his restraints with frustration.

“You got me into this.” His words were curt and they both knew he made himself vulnerable to her, yet the way he said them was defiant, provocative, as if the truth could hurt her more than it ever could hurt him. “I was used to being busy, focused on the future, always concentrating on the next job. Ten years and I could have retired a wealthy man. Imagine my disdain when there suddenly was no next job and no future.”

They still held eye contact.

“Where else could I turn in that hospital bed but the past? No fun either, let me tell you, because that’s where you were. You and your stupid little sobs and pleas.” He sounded angry. Was that finally the true Jackson?

He continued, his eyes glued to hers with that blue praying mantis stare that promised calm and peace, but only served to hide the danger underneath. “I am a professional, I take pride in absolute meticulousness, a clear strategy. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out where it had gone wrong.” He gave her a sly smile. “It bothered me.”

“So now you think that if I tell you where it went wrong, you … what?”

Under his steady gaze Lisa felt ill at ease. It was unspoken, but he had an air of knowledge about him, almost as if he was just waiting to deal her a blow. “You see, Leese, we have a similar problem. I don’t think you came here to do that grand nation of ours a favor.”

Lisa tensed up when she realized he actually wanted her to answer.

“Did you?” His voice was inquisitive, impatient.

If only she could swallow her pride and look away, but then again she knew that he would never give her an out, no matter what she did. “No.”

“You came here to put something behind you. I wanted you to come here, so I could put something behind me. I had you in that airplane bathroom, I know I did … where did it turn, Leese?”

Lisa willed herself not to cry. With as much venom as she could muster she snarled, “Thanks for the quickie.”

“Excuse me?”

“‘Thanks for the quickie.’ It’s what you said to me before we went back out.” Her voice was incredulous, refusing to believe that he couldn’t remember that essential line which, basically, had turned her life around.

“Damn! I knew I threw you a final insult, but I had forgotten which one. Wrong choice, obviously.” Jackson seemed amused, but then his eyes bore into the spot on her body where the scar was hidden underneath her clothes. He whispered, “Especially in connection with what I already suspected back then.”

He looked up into her face. “What … no fluttering hand on the scar? You really have been getting better, haven’t you?”

“Are you satisfied now?” Lisa’s voice was stern, she needed him to know that his time with her was drawing to an end.

“For now, yes.”

Lisa knew this was the blow he had wanted to deal her all along, but she couldn’t help asking the question. “For now?”

“Oh, Leese, we’re far from being done.” It sounded like a lover’s promise.

[abzee]

Hi everybody,

sorry, I realize I have been impolite not to update this story here. It's definitely work in progress, please check out

www.fanfiction.net/s/3015897/1/

for new chapters from now on. This way you get to read them "hot off the press" and don't have to rely on my loopyness. Sorry again!

[blue-eyed struck]

I just read all the chapters. I love your story. Jackson has just enough evilness and kindness. And chapter 14! whow! I knew he had other motives, but I didn't expect it to turn out like that! Anyway... can't wait to read more!

[paddykitten]

ahhh, i love this story. update soon please?

[abzee]

Thanks so much :-)