A/N: This one-shot was inspired by a quote seen on tumblr, which can be found here: meet me at the coda . tumblr . com

/post/170297707090/i-could-start-fires-with-what-i-feel-for-you (take out the spaces and put in the address bar, sorry, I couldn't find a better way)

He feels so strange, some odd emotion coursing through his veins, pushing and pulsing.

He thinks it may be desperation.

Lizzie is standing here, across the room from him, talking. He usually loves listening to her talk, the sound of her voice washing over him, soothing him. But not today.

Today she is making him ache.

"And I don't know what I expected, especially after today," she is saying. Her arms are loosely wrapped around her middle, her eyes strangely empty and vacant, staring at the floor.

"I mean, I know you don't mean me any harm, you wouldn't hurt me, certainly, but you left me out of your plans again today, and that hurts me in a different way."

Hurting her was never his intention, of course. He would rather die. But he had an end goal in mind for this blacklister and, yes, it may have been primarily for his own benefit, but it was also a dangerous situation and he wanted to keep her out of harm's way. He has done things like this before but it seems that, today, she is taking it very hard. That's what's making him ache inside.

He can barely stand it.

"I feel like you don't trust me. And I suppose you don't, that makes sense. There's so few people in your world you can trust and I certainly don't deserve it with the things I've done to you."

That's not it at all, he wants to say. He trusts Lizzie with his life. Yes, she's betrayed him, by definition, but only for the right reasons. He doesn't fault her for anything she's done. He would put his life in her hands without a second thought and, if she thought fit to end it, then he trusts her to make that choice.

(And if that's unhealthy, then he's far past the point of caring.)

Lizzie is making these false assumptions in a stream of consciousness way that he can't seem to interrupt and the thought of her thinking that he doesn't trust her is making that desperate feeling gnaw uncomfortably at his insides.

"And if you don't trust me, I understand. But I feel like trust is the foundation for a healthy relationship. And if there's no trust between us…well, what does that say about our relationship?"

Our relationship. Two dangerous words. The blood heats inside his veins at the very mention of it. Their relationship. It's been tumultuous at the best of times, strained and painful at the worst, but he wouldn't trade it for anything. His love for her is intense and simplistic in its devotion. He's sure that it's any psychologist's wet dream, these kinds of feelings for someone he has such a past with. And that tortures him every day.

There's nothing strictly wrong with it, at the most basic level, anyway. They're not related and that's the main thing. That's the only thing that keeps him from hurting himself out of sheer disgust.

But she doesn't feel the same way he does and that makes things quite easy to sum up in a word or two.

(Unrequited. Painful. Hell.)

But he hasn't exactly been subtle. And now she's vaguely asking about their relationship but surely, she knows how much he loves her, even if she won't return or accept it, she knows –

"I mean, if you don't trust me, you certainly can't…feel…anything else. That makes sense. You need trust to open the door to more…feelings. I found myself incapable of loving Tom after he violated my trust, even if I didn't quite realize it at first."

She's comparing his feelings for her to Tom? Tom, that disgusting, useless, excuse for a man? Tom, whose feelings for her could barely be described as fondness, let alone love?

The desperation inside of him is turning into something warm and frenzied, something distinctly uncomfortable, because how can she, he doesn't understand –

"The thing is, I guess I'd just got to thinking that you may have…feelings for me. I don't know, I'd kind of gotten used to the idea, I suppose. It took some time, of course, with everything else that's happened between us, but I…liked it. I welcomed it, after a while, it felt natural. I think maybe I'm actually starting to…feel things too."

He's burning up now, standing here listening to her, his skin feels like it doesn't fit anymore, he feels like he needs to move, do something, because what is she saying –

"But you don't…feel that way…about me. That's okay, I understand. Trust is everything. I get it."

He doesn't feel that way?

"Don't worry, I won't bring it up again. Today helped me realize that I was fooling myself, you couldn't feel anything for me. It's okay. I'm gonna go now."

She turns to leave and every cell in his body screams in unison.

No.

And then he is striding forward with an urgency that scalds him inside, terrified that if she walks through that door, he'll never see her again, and she'll always think, she'll think he doesn't –

He manages to grab her shoulders just before her hand touches the doorknob, all the desperation and heat and feelings inside him making him rough, uncontrollable, and he hears her startled gasp as he jerks her around to face him, her blue eyes wide in surprise, his hands gripping her upper arms firmly, too hard, but he can't make himself ease up because she thinks –

"Lizzie," he growls, snarls, like a wild animal, desperate. "I could start fires with what I feel for you."

And he can't stand it, not anymore, that sad, lonely look in her eyes, and he yanks her to him by her shoulders, crashing his lips desperately to hers, trying to tell her –

And she's frozen for a moment, stunned, like ice underneath his lips but he's not giving up because he can't let her leave thinking he doesn't care about her –

And then her mouth is moving under his with a wild gasp and his heart implodes in his chest, the feeling of it almost wrecking him –

And her hands are fisting in his shirt and he is roughly walking her backwards until her back hits the wall with a thump and her mouth opens with the impact and a little huff of air into his mouth that feels like life –

And he doesn't recognize the noise he makes, pressing close to her, their mouths sliding against each other, his hands clutching at her, proving to her, just how much he loves her –

But then she's gone, tearing her mouth from his and he tries to follow her lips for a blind second, feeling a physical pain at being parted from her, but she eases back, away from him, and he opens his eyes to see her staring at him, her blue orbs the most wild and alive he's ever seen them and that sight sends a thrill through him that almost brings him to his knees but she's still staring like she's never seen him before and he supposes she hasn't.

Not like this.

She's looking into his eyes like he's a new person and maybe that's what they needed, a fresh start, to be other people, to be different before they could be together and here they are.

He breathes in.

"I love you, Lizzie," he whispers harshly to her, the words being torn from his chest with everything he is. "Don't doubt that. Not ever."

She looks at him for a moment longer, her eyes scanning his face, her brow furrowing at the naked emotion she can see there and then she's nodding, tiny little jerks of her head and she's cupping his cheek –

"Okay," she's whispering, pulling him to her, pressing her cheek against his tenderly, soothing the heat, and he feels like he's being put back together again. "Okay, Red."

And he rests there against her, cooling, because he was on fire and she put him out and that's their story. And now she knows.