We'll Talk Again Chapter 1: Eye Of A Killer, a red eye fanfic

Disclaimer: It's only during nights that I dream of possessing Jackson… or possibly Cillian… In real life I have no rights.

Feedback: It makes me really happy, and is very much appreciated. You're welcome to speak even if there was something you didn't like very much. Review ahead.

Author's note: "We'll talk again"… has always tickled my imagination so much… what would happen if he'd made good of that threat? Would he kill her? Would SHE kill him? I'm letting them meet again… And now it's personal!

We'll Talk Again

Chapter 1 Eye Of A Killer

Lisa tumbled down the stairs with an excruciating pain searing through her back as it repeatedly hit the steps.

He pushed me!

For some reason, somehow, she had thought that he wouldn't hurt her. Ridiculous as it seemed, in the last moment at the top of the stairs, she'd thought she'd seen something akin to remorse in his insanely blue eyes. Wanting - no, needing - to push that feeling away, she'd hurt him all she could. 'You're pathetic' she'd spat, seeing his gaze darken into rage.

And now she was paying the repercussions.

With a twist.

She landed with a thud almost at the bottom of the stairs. Dizzily, she raised her head and stared up at Jackson who had begun moving. With the world tilting in a nauseating angle, closing her eyes once and opening them again to get her bearing, she still saw him bend down to pick something up from the floor and heard the whisper of steel. Oh God! Lisa sobered immediately; she knew all too well what lay there. She'd shoved it there herself in their struggles.

His knife!

Moaning, and in spite of the pain, she began to crawl away from him. I must get away. I must defend… Her eyes fell on the unbelievable sight of a weapon right in front of her. It was the gun she had last seen in the hands of the hitman in front of her father's door. It had almost killed her.

Now it could save her life.

Quickly glancing back at Jackson, who slowly limping, and with great effort made his way relentlessly down the stairs, she went for the gun. With trembling hands, she tried to get it right, finger at the trigger, heart in her throat, begging to some higher spirits that it would still have bullets left.

She heard him closer, spun over on her back and aimed at him in the last moment. He had gotten almost to the bottom of the stairs, and stopped flat in his progress as he spotted the gun. He stared like he couldn't believe his eyes.

Believe it you bastard!

Lisa shook with fear as she met his cold eyes. She saw the long knife in his right hand and her heart rate sped up even more if that was physically possible. He really meant to kill her. Don't do this, Jackson. Don't…

She was interrupted in her thoughts when Jackson cocked his head and smiled unpleasantly. His eyes flickered between the gun in her hand and back at the entrance, seemingly acknowledging the sounds of sirens that grew stronger. Lisa's gaze didn't budge; she kept him in focus, knowing that if she weakened for only a moment he'd be on her in a heartbeat.

"We'll talk again," he rasped, two fingers held over the hole in his throat, his glacial eyes never leaving hers, hypnotizing her with their intensity… and hate.

Her eyes darted between his eyes and his throat and the wound she knew existed there, the damage she'd done with a pen when she'd tried to get away from him before. Unsuccessfully, as it turned out to be. It was probably the very reason that he'd followed her here, into her father's home. And he wouldn't stop coming after her…

NO! We're NOT gonna talk again! I'm putting an end to this, here and now.

"Don't move," she said between clenched teeth in a low hoarse voice.

Her head was spinning. All her fear, and all her anger of yet again being a victim, grew into an internal scream. I'm not letting you leave with the upper hand, leaving me afraid and beaten. Not again. Once was enough… him… two years ago was enough… She pointed the weapon at him, and squeezed the trigger. It was a lot harder to do than she had thought, though. The shot didn't go off immediately, and she realized she still just held her stiffened finger there. When she made another attempt, her hands began to tremble violently, and all the agony she'd experienced welled up inside of her.

He's going to kill you! SHOOT HIM!

NOW!

With numb hands that barely obeyed her anymore, the gun got increasingly heavy and began to lower itself in front of her; the barrel no longer pointing directly at Jackson.

I can't...

Jackson took a long stride closer to her, but as the sounds of the sirens became deafening, they stared at each other a moment longer. Then he smirked with eyes that told her just how pathetic he thought she was. "Gotta go, Leese. Sorry to disappoint... I'll get back to you."

He bolted, knife still in hand, past her where she lay disgracefully slumped at the cold stone floor of the hallway, and out through the rear entrance of the kitchen where her dad must still be. She stared emptily in front of her at the spot where he'd been standing a moment ago. It was like it still radiated heat from his body; like she could see the ghost of his non-existing soul.

Dad!

Lisa lay beaten for a second longer, then she scrambled to her knees and got on her feet. On wobbly legs, she made it to the kitchen where she was met by her father who had finally woken up.

"Who was that man that rushed past me? What's happened here, Leese? And how are YOU?" He gripped her arm and regarded her with a serious expression. Lisa grasped for his shoulder, and two shaken humans held on to each other for a few endless moments, gathering some much needed strength.

Lisa, who felt like she would throw up, and knew she must be looking rather dishevelled by now, didn't object as Joe Reisert put her on a soft chair, wrapping a blanket around her. He rubbed the spot on his head where he'd been hit and started to say something but Lisa interrupted, "There's going to be a lot of questions, dad. A lot of people are going to be interested in a lot of things that only I can answer…" She bit her lower lip before she continued. "Things have happened… I'll explain to you later…"

Where did he go? Oh my God, where did he go?

Not until now, did she realise that Jackson had escaped… and that his last words had been something about talking again… Meeting again… Oh my GOD! Her fear returned with full strength. She moaned quietly and covered her face with her hands.

What have I done?

The sound of the door bell cut sharply and unexpectedly through the silent apartment. Lisa jerked with surprise. She had just washed her hair and now she hastily tied a towel around it in a knot.

The last week had been a mess of interrogations with men in black suits, special agents this and that. She couldn't help but seeing the humour in it, her thoughts straying to movie caricatures. 'Men In Black'… 'X-Files'… She wondered if they really took themselves as seriously as they seemed to be doing.

The issue in itself was serious, though. A terrorist organisation had tried to murder an upstanding politician and his family as revenge for the US government's foreign politics. 'Send a big brash message' he said… Lisa had been held captive on an airplane for hours by Jackson Rippner, threatened until she made a phone call that would place Mr Keefe and his family where the terrorists could reach them.

What annoyed her and made her think compulsively of Will Smith and David Duchovny, amongst others, was that they questioned her story. Not openly yet, but she could feel it in the air, knowing that at some point they would bring it out. They implied that she'd been part of it, or that she hadn't been fighting back hard enough. It felt like this too was a part of the plot against her.

That enraged her.

You should have seen me!

It was Friday night, and she had no scheduled appointments with the agents until Monday. Two days of resting her head.

It should worry her that Jackson was still out there. He had promised, no threatened, her that he'd be back. But why would he? Surely a professional like him had better things to do than to run around for revenge. Lisa didn't know, and she was too tired to think of it anyway.

Walking out of the bathroom, she steered her steps towards the front door as she glanced at her wrist watch. Half past ten… It's a bit late, dad. He had come by randomly several nights already since the red eye flight and the fight for life and death in his house. He needed it for his own peace of mind, to see that his only child was doing OK, but it was also for Lisa, for her safety.

At least that's what he'd told her, and she hadn't objected. It really didn't matter who needed it the more, she felt cared for and that was a much needed feeling after... well, Jackson.

Bless you...

Lisa unhooked the safety chain, while correcting the painting on the wall next to the door with her other hand. Since they had provided her with the guard who stood posted downstairs, she didn't feel like she even had to lock the door, but still she attached the chain by routine every time she closed it.

She smiled as she thought of the giant man downstairs. He had charcoal black skin, almost like polished ebony, and cheekbones to die for. He was ridiculously tall, heavily built and would have appeared threatening if it hadn't been for the fact that he was talking about his three little girls all the time. Lisa had seen their pictures and they looked so sweet she could've eaten them.

With the smile lingering on her lips, she turned the knob and pulled the door open, expecting her father to be standing with that friendly, slightly worried face that he had displayed these last few days.

But standing outside her door wasn't her father, and it wasn't a friendly face at all.