AN: Did last night's ending really happen or did I imagine it? Anyways, here's a one-shot filling in the gaps. Enjoy and please leave a review if you can!
Of course he's there. Of course he is right there on the other side, nervous and smiling and god, she feels so warm suddenly in the chilly night air. She feels free.
He had always known how to make an entrance. No exceptions.
She wants to run towards him, wants to tell him so many things, thank you and thank you and thank you, and her steps are determined enough, not too fast but strong. She wants this to last, this moment, this goddamn movie moment. The deserted streets, what an intimate setting and how fitting, she thinks, because she wants him all to herself. She wants to know how he did it, what strings he pulled, the genius, her very own criminal mastermind.
She stops right in front of him.
And what now?
The words restless on her tongue, her head spinning and him, just him, the one who never left.
Her hero. Her savior. Her equal.
She's standing so close and he's waiting, he's hoping. The choice always hers and his selflessness, never demanding, never expecting.
And she...
It's sudden, it's eager, a bit clumsy and maybe unexpected but the only logical choice.
Her arms envelop him, pull him towards her, no lines, no boundaries, no restraints and what would it matter now. They are so far beyond wherever this started.
She exhales. For the first time in weeks she's truly breathing and it's all him, it's his presence and his skin against hers and his sacrifices and help and her gratitude, that too, it's all in the tight space between them, tugged away safely in the warmth they share.
She can feel him breathe, too. Hears the soft sigh of relief and she will remember the sound forever, a talisman, a souvenir, every obstacle they have overcome.
And she's smiling. And she can't remember the last time she's felt this happy.
It takes him a moment but his hand smoothes her hair now, lingers there comfortably and so, so gently. They fit together so well and these moments are not meant for reality, they're meant for fairytales and fiction, but it works, still, it works so beautifully. The night and them and their future. He gave her a future.
"It's over. It's all over," he whispers. "Lizzie."
He speaks her name like a lullaby. Something sweet and tender and familiar. Something that sounds like home.
"Thank you," she whispers. And he nods. And that's that. This is all they need.
She might never let go. If she had a choice, she would stay like this for as long as possible.
"Shall we go home?" he asks and she pulls back then to look at him. Home. Has anything ever sounded as promising?
She shakes her head and he raises an eyebrow. "Let's stay. Just for a little longer. It's a beautiful night." And he understands because his freedom once had been taken away, too, and the rush of fresh air, well, it's really quite something. She moves beside him, leans against the car and doesn't leave any room between them, a metaphor for their transformation, a relationship of trust and companionship.
She can't quite speak yet. It's been a long day.
But she looks down, takes his hand where it brushes against her thigh, and interlaces their fingers.
He doesn't comment on it but every so often his thumb draws little circles on her skin.
So this is who she has become. An asset like Red. There were much worse things in the world.
She turns her head then, marvels at his profile and the lights enlacing his features as he stares at the court house across the street, and she smiles.
She wouldn't be here without him.
She presses her lips against his cheek and feels him flinch ever so slightly, and then she follows his gaze, looks ahead. Slowly, she lowers her head and lets it rest on his shoulder, takes them back to where this all began, the backseat of a van, the blood on her hands, and him beside her, always and always beside her. He had killed for her. He had devoted his time, his empire to her, had risked his safety and his life. The two of them, the king and the queen. A path out of the darkness. A second chance. A walk in the park.
She thinks of the running and hiding and chasing; she thinks of them on a ship looking up at the starlit sky, she thinks of the fear and the panic and his calming presence through it all, unwavering, her friend and confidant and so much more that could never be labeled. Words could never do it justice.
The one true thing in her life. The things he feels for her. The things he can't quite tell her yet.
She loves him, too. She knows that now. Because there was never any doubt in her mind that he would be the one waiting for her. That at the end of the day, when all was said and done, he would be the one to guide her, to teach her, to let her thrive.
"Come on, it's getting cold," he tells her and straightens up, takes off his coat and puts it around her, and she doesn't want to break down in front of him but it's getting harder with every passing second. He is so very kind, so considerate, and she just doesn't know how to process it and maybe she's dreaming, maybe this is too good to be true, maybe, maybe…
He opens the door for her, joins her once she is settled in and she's staring at him, completely and utterly staring at him, with a gratitude that aches in its intensity.
When I look at you…
She finally understands.
Her way home.