Lizzie gives a heavy sigh, shutting the door to Red's dingy motel room behind her. She trudges to her car through the darkness of the parking lot. There is a thick fog hovering in the air. It seems to reflect how things feel inside her head. Thick, heavy, viscous. She thinks she might be in shock.
What time is it? It must be late. Maybe she should stay over at Red's motel room for the night. There were two beds and it would be -
She freezes halfway inside the car, the door standing open.
No. No, things aren't like that anymore.
Red is her f-.
Ah.
Yes, shock is setting in.
She hadn't allowed herself to think of it before. Stunned by what that damning piece of paper said and wanting to get to Red to confront him, get confirmation, get -
No. No, he didn't confirm, did he? He didn't really say anything, did he? Maybe she should go back and -
No. Unfreezing her limbs, she pulls the car door shut with a jarring slam. No, she needs to go home and think. See her baby. Yes. That's what she should do.
Fog. Shock.
She starts the car without thinking about it, the sudden growl of the engine startling her a little. She frowns at her own skittishness.
Red is -
No. Drive home. Then think.
She puts the car in drive and pulls slowly out of the lot.
There's so much fog tonight.
She speeds up on the highway, evening out at the speed limit. Her fingers are starting to feel cold. That's odd. It's a relatively warm night. She turns the heat on high anyway, wanting to rid herself of the chill that seems to be settling into her bones.
She'd hugged Red. And he'd hugged her back. The memory brought a strange feeling to life in the pit of her stomach.
Her fa-
No. This was Red. Red who has sacrificed himself for her, Red who has called her his north star, Red she has dreamt about - oh god.
Her breathing is coming faster now. Some part of Liz's mind recognizes the signs of an ensuing panic attack. She mechanically pulls off to the side of the road, parking the car and turning the heat up with a shaking hand.
She's so cold.
Her father.
Oh god.
Her hands are shaking so hard. She grips the steering wheel tightly as she starts to gasp.
She's dreamt about him, standing over her, looking eagerly, hungrily -
Ah.
She moans out loud in horror into the silence of the car, struggling to unbuckle her seatbelt, suddenly feeling like its choking her. She sinks sideways to lay her head on the passenger seat, the world spinning around her, the seatbelt buckle digging into her side. She tries to hold onto that stabbing pain and make it ground her but she feels wetness on her cheeks and, oh, she's crying, oh, he's her fa-
She screams, unable to hold it in, crying big, fat tears, gasping breaths, hyperventilating, she needs to calm down, she's the only one here in her car on the side of a deserted highway at midnight, she needs to stop, she -
Liz wraps her arms around herself, squeezes, tries to hold herself together.
Her life. How is this her life? She had everything she wanted, a husband, a house, a dog -
But then criminals and guns and the past and the truth and Red forced his way into her life and now she's here. Sam is dead, Tom is gone, Agnes is at home, and Red is her father.
She moans, trying to rock back and forth in the confines of the car, suddenly feeling claustrophobic.
Father. No. Her father is Sam, not Red. Sam used to help her through panic attacks, when she was little and she woke up screaming, ripped from a nightmare filled with smoke and fire and choking and -
"Just breathe, Butterball. Five in, five out. Count with me, now. Just breathe."
Liz struggles to take a deep breath in, counting out loud to herself, to five. She finally gets her breathing more or less even and she starts to work on stopping the tears.
Sam. She misses her Dad. Sam, not Red. She finally manages to stop crying, with a hiccup. She slowly unwinds one arm from around herself to rub at her eyes with a sleeve.
She feels like a child again. But no, she's got a child of her own waiting at home for her. God. She doesn't feel like a mother. She doesn't even have one of her own and her father? Fuck, what a mess.
No.
Sam is her father. She doesn't need another one. She sits up slowly, all of a sudden certain of this. Why did it take her this long and a stupid, useless piece of paper to figure that out? Sam is her father, Agnes is her daughter, and Red is just... Red. And that will have to be enough for both of them right now.
She carefully dries her eyes, adjusts her mirror, takes a deep breath, and slowly pulls onto the highway again.
Right now, she needs to go home and relieve the sitter. She needs to see her baby, breathe in her wonderful scent and feel whole again. Then she can digest the fact that Red is not her father.
Not her father.