I recently watched Red Eye for the first time a couple of days ago and am so pleased to find a fandom for this awesome movie. At the risk of any cliché storylines, I apologize, but this interesting idea popped in my head. It's my first RE fic, so let me know what you think.

Lisa Reisert would forever hate the Wright brothers. If only they had crashed that early model and called it quits, she would not be here. On a plane. Again.

She mentally cringed as she made her way slowly down the aisle, her eyes darting from face to face. Scanning the numbers above the seats, she shuffled on, avoiding looking at the occupants below. She halted before her assigned seat number and slowly lowered her eyes, body tensed to sprint if it was…

Her seatmate was elderly man, buried in a thick novel and oblivious to the commotion of passengers around him. Lisa breathed again. Shoving her bags in the compartment above her, she then settled in her seat to await the dreaded ascent.

It was unnerving, the effect he had left on her. Her normal discomfort in flying had become a gripping paranoia, forcing her to check every face in the ticket line, every pair of eyes on the plane. And she hated him for that. Of course, the psychological torture he had put her through would never be forgiven, nor the vicious physical damage he had inflicted on her in his rage. However, these could be shoved away, locked temporarily away from memory. But the fear would always remain.

Once the plane was in the air, Lisa felt herself relax, as she laid her head back and closed her eyes, willing her mind to focus on the faces of her father, her friends back in Miami.

Blue eyes. Iced over, flashing in rage.

She started awake, trying to shake the image from her head. Knock it off, Lisa. For all you know, he's six feet under somewhere. As he should be. She smiled at the reassurance of the thought.

And yet there he was beside her, chatting amiably about some trivial issue to keep her distracted. Lisa again wiped the memory away. She certainly could use a distraction now.

The passenger beside her muttered something, still absorbed in his reading. Perhaps conversation would do her good.

"Excuse me?" she ventured.

The man looked up, as if realizing he was on the plane for the first time. He blinked through his thick glasses, and seemed to be struggling to focus on the woman beside him. Finally, he smiled, laying the book on his lap.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I was just thinking out loud." He shrugged sheepishly.

Lisa jumped at the chance now, yearning to silence the memories in her head. "Good book?"

The man chuckled. "Just some philosophy on the human brain. It's rather silly, the experiments these people concoct. So safe, never daring to try anything new." He shrugged again.

"You must be a doctor, then?"

The man nodded toward his book. "Required reading. On my way to a conference. And you?"

Lisa smiled. "The same, but for the hotel I work for. Newest policies and the like."

"So where's your book?"

The lighthearted conversation continued until the announcement of the impending landing blared over the speakers. Lisa blinked in surprise, but felt a sense of triumph well up within her. She had survived.

Almost as soon as the plane halted, she was up, gathering her luggage from above before the mad dash of passengers could begin.

"It was very nice to meet you, Lisa."

Fear suddenly boiled in her stomach. She hadn't told the elderly passenger her name. The man must have seen her eyes widen, for he hurriedly added, "The nametag on your bag."

This was getting to be too much. She gave him a hurried smile, before pushing through the crowd and off the plane, wheeling her luggage sharply down the terminal.

It was a relief to be out in the open again. Her pace had gradually slowed the farther she got from the plane. She checked her watch. She wasn't due to be picked up for another couple of hours. Sighing, Lisa stepped into a restaurant, pointedly avoiding the bar. The day had been long, and her stomach was the worse for it.

It couldn't have happened more perfectly in her nightmares.

He came strolling toward the bar, a bored expression plastered on his face. He looked exactly the same as he had on that fateful flight seven months ago, the lank brown hair, the electric eyes, the suit. Lisa instinctively cowered in her seat, biting her tongue to keep from screaming. He was close. Lisa's gaze frantically searched for a way out, any exit to conceal herself from his notice. Fear was again devouring her stomach, and she silently hoped he wouldn't…

She caught his glance, and felt the last of her courage melt away. She shrunk farther into the wall. She watched in horror as the familiar eyes locked with hers.

But there was no spark of recognition. She paused, and he broke the gaze, turning to chat with a man on his right. Lisa's heart was in her throat, her mind reeling at his reaction. Surely he had seen her. She buried her face in her hands, commanding herself to breathe.

"Are you alright?" A pair of light blue eyes were across the table from her, concern sparking within them.

Lisa felt faint, and grabbed the edges of the table to steady herself. "Jackson," she managed to choke out.

The man started, visibly shaken. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

What? She searched his face frantically for any remnant of the utter rage and hatred that he had left imprinted in her memory. Any menacing glint in those unforgettable eyes. If they were there, they were deeply hidden.

Lisa felt a sudden pang of anger overcome her gnawing fear. How dare he play with her like this? "Yes, Jackson Rippner, I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance," she spat.

Jackson's face remained blank.