"Red!"
Her heart was racing. The room was filled with debris and dust. She could hardly see her outstretched hands, let alone across the room. Him. She had to find him.
She managed to lift off a piece of wood that was positioned across her chest. So close. It was so close, just not close enough. Her vision was blurred from the blow of whatever had happened. Her ears seemed to be ringing.
"Red!"
Was it her own voice that she heard faintly? Her throat seemed dry and parched. Could it be her?
She was now standing, her left leg barely holding her up. A patch of her pants were wet — probably blood. She'd have the medics look at it later. Now she had to find him.
Her fingers seemed to find the wall, where she dragged her skin against the rough surface. Hopefully it'd give her some sense of direction. Some light was filtering in through cracks on the high ceiling. She could make out collapsed columns of the building, and other undecipherable debris.
Her leg felt weak and overwhelming now. But she couldn't pay attention. She had to find him.
Suddenly she spotted a misshapen hat next to a pile of debris. It had to be his. She quickly made her way to the spot, where she started lifting some of the pieces without hesitation. They felt heavier than expected.
A piece of cloth came into sight. Navy. Cashmere. It had to be his. He must be under the pile.
Fuck.
She started lifting the pieces quicker, ignoring the throbbing pain in her leg.
Then she could make out his upper body. His hair. What was left of it, that was. His nose, his mouth, his lidded eyes. The features she had grown so familiar with over time.
"Red!" She screamed, trying to get him to open his eyes.
She was suddenly shaking him. Pressing her cheek against his chest, his face.
Thud.
Thud.
She couldn't tell if there was a heartbeat, or whether it was just the blood rushing inside her.
Then she was shaking him. He had to wake up. She had to wake him up.
"Red, you son of a bitch!" She was yelling now.
Her throat hurt. But she had to continue. Why wasn't he waking up? Why wasn't he moving?
And suddenly she had her hands in a fist pumping his chest. Wake up. He had to wake up. Just open his eyes.
But he wasn't moving.
Suddenly she had her lips against his. Using her breath to feed him life. Then she was pounding at his chest again, and breathing into him. Pumping. Breathing. Pumping. Breathing.
But he wasn't moving. He still wasn't moving.
It was too soon. It was too fucking soon.
She could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks now. She pressed her cheek against his chest. His warm chest.
There was so much she didn't know. About her. About him. About him. The way he looked first thing in the morning. How he'd hold her as they tangoed. His favorite place. His favorite hideaway. How he could've kissed her with all his heart. How he could've taken her to a place no one had before. Taken her heart to that place.
Fuck.
"Lizzie…"
She looked up and saw his eyes fluttering. His lips were cracked.
"Red?" She asked incredulously.
"That…" He started, his voice so low and quiet. "Was not how I imagined it happening…"
He was smiling. In the debris. Through her tears. She could make out the slightest smile in his face.
"Red, I'm here," Liz answered, her voice barely managed to stay steady.
Suddenly she was holding his hands. His knuckles felt rough. Like the day in the park. Only this time she was holding his hand. She had to be his support.
"Red, I need you to stay focused," She said with faux confidence. "You were hit, and the debris is covering you. We have to get you out."
She started patting her pockets, trying to find her cell phone. She felt that thick block in her pocket and pulled it out, only to discover that it was shattered and wasn't turning on.
"Fuck!" She yelled. "Why isn't this piece of shit working?!"
His head shook slightly.
"Lizzie."
Her name. All he had to do was say her name. In his gravelly, low voice, and she felt a pull deep within her.
"Red, please. Just… Fine. I'm gonna try to get this up off your body. You're gonna be fine, I promise." Her voice was wavering now, as she attempted to lift a bigger piece of him.
Everything was gonna be fine. Everything had to be fine.
"Stop… Don't make promises you can't keep, sweetheart."
She stopped her movements, and looked at Red. His eyes. His eyes burned into her own. She had seen this look all too many times. The desperate, almost hopeless look. He had to stop. His green, or blue, or whatever fucking color eyes they decided to be, had to stop looking at her. They always did. Watching her. Watching over her.
"Shut up, Red. Please." She begged.
"I'm sorry," He whispered. "I'm sorry for everything."
"Stop acting like this is goodbye — this isn't goodbye!" She yelled. "You're gonna be fine!"
He seemed to tut and shake his head. She just continued pushing and pulling and tugging and grabbing the pieces. They had to budge somehow. She knew she could get it off.
"When I was younger…" He started in a low voice, pulling her focus. "When I was younger… there was this light that always seemed to be on. Then one day all I saw was darkness. I lived in darkness. Learned to thrive in the darkness. But somehow… Somehow a very dim light started to appear. With each day it grew stronger and stronger, and now it feels so bright…"
"Stop it, Red."
Her fingers were now grasping his cheeks, his jaw. His skin felt so soft. Fuck.
"I can see the light." Red said, his voice almost sounding hopeful.
"Red, you can't leave it. Please." Tears were stinging her eyes.
"You don't get it," Red chuckled through his ragged breath. "Lizzie, you're the light."
She wrapped her hands around his next, cradling him. She was pressing her forehead against his.
"Red…"
Before she knew what she was doing, she was pressing her lips against his. Soft. So fucking soft. Her chest felt like it was exploding.
This was what she had been missing all along. The missing puzzle piece that had gotten wedged somewhere and lost along the way. It was him. All along.
Through all the hatred, the fights, the never ending hot and cold between them. It had all led up to this electric moment. Their lips pressed against each other. Nothing had ever felt so right.
Then she was pulling back and looking into his eyes. His wonderful, penetrating eyes.
His eyes were filled with light, but his skin was pale and she could tell what was coming.
He opened his mouth in the attempt to say something, but his voice was too low now. She leaned in closer, her ear pressed up against his soft lips. She could feel them moving and tickling against her skin.
"My light."