Beyond Control

Disclaimer: I don't own Red Eye

A/N: Okay, so I finally watched Red Eye, for the first time. I LOVED it! I'm now a HUGE Lisa/Jackson shipper! This is a oneshot, set months after the film. I might turn it into a chapter-fic, but that's unlikely. Warning, minor language.

Beyond Control

Lisa drove in a daze, stopping only when necessary, for the famed, Florida Toll Booths. When she arrived they were ready for her, escorting her quickly and quietly to a room of split glass, with tables and partitions and telephones.

There he was.

She nodded to the guard escorting her and walked over in her business casual. He smiled at her—and was that a slight chuckle?—picking up the telephone on his side of the glass. She wanted to take a deep breath, steady herself, but this wasn't the time to show weakness. She plastered on her best poker face and picked up the phone.

He spoke first. "So, you stab me in the neck with a pen, beat me with a hockey stick, shoot me with a nail gun, and still visit me in prison. Ah, who needs friends and family when I have you, Lise?" He leaned forward. "And somehow, I don't actually think you're here of your own accord."

"Somehow," she cleared her throat, "I don't think this visit is a surprise."

"So you caught me, Lisa. I was expecting to talk again."

The words made her insides shiver—intentional implications, or not—but she kept her emotions in check. If she'd learned anything from him, it was that emotions, at the very least, were not always helpful. "I see." She sighed, "then its simple. You just tell me what you won't tell the D.A.-"

"Lisa, really, you'll have to be a bit more specific."

"Where are Keefe's children?"

"As I've said, many time, on record, I've been in prison for six months, serving my time for society, and after my," he cringed at the next word, "failure, my former colleagues would be terribly unlikely to want anything to do with me. Thanks for reminding me, Lise."

"But you must have some clue or idea as to where they could start looking."

"No, I'm drawing a blank."

She sighed, laying her forehead in her palm. "Then why did you have them drag me here, Jack? Just to screw with me? More, I mean."

When she looked up, he was smiling.

Silence followed, and they stared at one another, taking their individual accounts. She watched him, hands in her lap—so apparently docile. Jackson leaned forward, further still, resting his chin in his hands, for a closer look—or intimidation. Lisa wouldn't be fazed, so she spoke up, asking him the one question she'd had on her mind ever since Tex Mex, "Did you ever lie, honestly?"

After a pause, he smirked. "Now, that's just a contradiction in terms."

"You know what I mean."

"No, not once." His voice was so low, she thought, and almost the exact same hybrid-bastard of smooth arrogance and intimidation as always. The only proof of Lisa's violent injection being a minor hiss on his i's and e's, and a croak on a few consonants. "As I've said, in the past, it doesn't serve me to be dishonest." He leaned back, putting a hand behind his head. "Even when I said 'we'll talk again,' and look, here we are…talking.Though, to be 'honest,' I'm carrying the brunt of the conversation."

"You really killed your parents."

He chuckled. "Oh, Lisa, now you're getting it." The guard (possibly her guard, Lisa thought) made to move. "That is to say, of course, that I'm not confessing to shit." He turned his look from the guard back to Lisa, "Not the easiest, always being surrounded by dogs of the establishment, but then again, that makes two of us having a hard time adjusting to our new surroundings, hm Lise?"

She sits up. "Excuse me."

"How's Californ-i-a? The new Lux Pacific coming along nicely, I'm sure."

"Who told you that?"

"Well, I could say a little birdie, but that would ruin my honesty track-record, now wouldn't it. Must be sad, getting shoved away to start a new hotel. I wonder if they'll actually keep you as manager of this one, once its completed."

"If you're not going to help, then I'm leaving."

"After our whole altercation, you just lost your edge for the personal service market-" He smiled. "Make sure to give Cynthia my regards next time you two talk. I'm sure she's doing fantastic in your old position."

"Fuck you."

She wanted to say stop screwing with me, but she knew she couldn't. She'd won their fight, but it had been a close race, and he still got under her skin. So she did what she had to; walk away. Get out while you're still on top. Keefer would have to believe she'd done her best.

She grabbed her purse, standing and hanging the phone up angrily. She didn't look at him, as she left.

As she was walking away, he tapped on the window, just once. She turned. His eyes stared straight, into her own. Then he looked once to the phone. Slowly, she walked back. She remained standing as she put the receiver to her ear.

"I want out."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm listening, Jackson."

"If I help in any capacity, I want out of this hell hole."

"What? Can't take any more fact-based logic being male-driven up your ass?"

"Ha, very funny, but you and I both know prison is shit, and though I may have a few contacts left, I have no chance of getting my old life back. I'll need amnesty, and some way to get re-established, once I'm out, and I need it all in writing. If you want any help in finding those brats of Keefer's you better start showing me some paperwork from the D.A.'s office, Lise."

"There's no chance in hell they'll let you out." She didn't mention her own—very strong—reservations to his freedom.

"What if I were to say I had family?" He shocked her again, and when he knew he had her, he smiled. "I'm joking. We both know I'd be a terrible father, but I do want to return to my life of pillaging and crime, and the best part of this whole deal is that we can both get what we want out of it."

"I'll see what I can do."

"You do that, Lise. You do that." He hung up the phone and watched her do the same, hands in his pockets, nonchalant as he had been that first time, offering her a seat at Tex Mex. She walked again to the door, but this time chanced a look back.

He was still watching her go.