Moving On

By: Breezi

Disclaimer: I do not own Red Eye or any of it's characters. I wish I did, but I don't. And I have to learn to deal with that.

Author's Note: Well, here I go again. This is my new Red Eye fic. Whole new plotline with new fun-filled characters and chaos. Hope you like it and let me know what you think!

Prologue:

His hand clasped her firmly by the neck, holding her in place. She looked at him from the corners of her eyes and saw the look of pure desperation on his face.

"You don't have to do this," she said, trying to appeal to the more human side of him. The side of him that she had seen in the airport. The side of him that she wasn't sure really existed. "Any of this."

He laughed once, but there was no humor in his voice. Then, his eyes dropped from her face and she knew immediately what it was that his gaze had found. She felt his thumb brush over the skin of her chest, pulling the soft material at the neck of her shirt away to grant him a clearer view of the ugly scar.

"Did someone do that to you?" he asked, eyes darting back and forth between the scar and her face, his tone softer, hinting at just the slightest bit of compassion.

"No." she replied instinctively.

Then he looked back up at her, something scary in his eyes. They were hard and cold and she swore she saw something akin to jealousy. And she thought that he had been frightening before. "Is that what it is?" He hissed.

She didn't know how to respond. "No." she said, trembling. He was close. He was too close. He smelled too good. His skin was too warm. His eyes were too blue. Everything was just too much.

Then, his face changed again. "You know what I think?" he growled through clenched teeth, his grip tightening on her throat as he pulled her around and slammed her into the mirror. Her air supply disappeared and he pushed her further and harder against the mirror, lifting her feet from the ground. She whimpered, but it only seemed to give him more fuel. He brought his face right next to her own, his mouth brushing against the outer shell of her ear as he spoke. "You know what I think? I think you're not such an honest person," he seethed, "because I've followed you for eight weeks now and I never once saw you order anything but a fucking seabreeze!"

"Can't breathe," she croaked, "I can't breathe."

Then, just like that, he let go. Oxygen flooded her lungs and she collapsed into the wall coughing as her body readjusted to the feeling of air circulation once again. As she coughed, he began washing her words from the mirror behind her.

"But I never lied to you, Leese," He kept talking, "Know why? Cause it doesn't serve me. We're both professional. We have the will and the means to follow through and when we don't, our customers aren't happy. And when they're not, we suffer and our lives go to shit." He threw down a paper towel and used his hand on her cheek in what might have looked like affection to an outsider, to force her to look at him. "And that's not gonna happen, is it?" he asked, pausing every few words to catch his breath.

"No." she breathed, feeling like a lost little child.

"Good." He said, breathing hard.

Then, he just stared at her. In the next few seconds, his lips descended on hers. Once again, she was pinned to the mirror, but it was completely different. His hands groped greedily at her body and worked at sliding her skirt up to her hips.

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Lisa woke up, caked in cold sweat. Her breathing was shallow and labored and out of habit, her eyes searched the darkened bedroom for any trace that he had been there. Of course, there was none. It had been two years since that terrifying night on the red eye flight from Texas. Two years since Jackson Rippner had forever etched himself in her memory. Two years since she had found in herself the strength to survive. Two years, and Lisa Reisert had yet to move on.

Oh, everyone thought that she had and that she was fine, but she still dreamt about him; about his eyes. On the outside, she had been promoted at work, she was engaged to a well-respected, wealthy businessman, and she was constantly smiling and laughing at something or other. But on this inside, when no one was looking, she was constantly glancing over her shoulder for any sign of those amazing blue eyes. In her mind, she was constantly revisiting those moments in that airplane bathroom, whether it be consciously or unconsciously. In reality, he had said a few terse words, pushed her around, and then dragged her out to force her to make the phone call. He had stopped everything before he had ever touched her.

But, in her dreams he didn't stop. In her dreams, she never asked him to.

Author's Note: I know, I know, it's terribly short, but the chapters will get lengthier, scout's honor. Let me know what you think of the opening. Hasn't really gotten going yet, but, you know, feedback is greedily craved.