Thank you for the reviews/follows and favorites! As always this is not beta-ed/edited, wish I had the time/energy/motivation to have my work looked at and revised before being submitted but I just don't have that kind of time and my writing usually takes place on my iPhone, wherever my inspiration hits me at.

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, nor do I profit off of them.

The week has been long, the silence throughout the safe house deafening and the tension in the air stretched tighter than a drum. The conversations that he has mustered to start have been so clinical, impersonal and formal- a devise used to humor her or maybe even to taunt. She can barely stand it anymore, she tries so hard to chip at his walls, but he keeps his guard up and she's slowly losing her mind. There's a countdown on both their heads, waiting for the week to be over with and the day to come when Dembe will arrive to take Lizzie to Tom before he reunites with Red.

She tries so hard to form some type of bond, tries to hold onto something that she feels is slipping between the creases and crevices of her fingers. She longs for everything he used to be willing to give her and resents the new direction their relationship has taken. He's not cold but he is indifferent, he doesn't look at her like he used to and if she thought for a second that she was imagining things- their conversation last week solidified her beliefs and as if that wasn't enough, it also brought out a side of Red that has never fell victim to.

She let him down somehow and she doesn't know what she did or said to warrant the emptiness he makes her feel. There used to be a twinkle in his eye whenever he stared at her, they used to light up and fixate on her every movement when she walked into a room, she used to be able to make him smile, chuckle- she once used to make him laugh. He never let her in completely so how was she ever suppose to figure that he wanted her to turn to him? Not only for answers or protection or even reassurance and a shoulder to lean on, but also for comfort and intimacy? She would have lived her whole life not knowing, he would of never told her…

She doesn't know why but that makes it so much worse. The not knowing- she would of moved on, met someone, married someone and had a family with someone she would of lived her whole life not knowing because he would of never approached her, never told her. He would of let her find solace in someone else's arms and she would have been forced to watch him move on. Something tells her that he's a dying confessions type of guy; she remembers her name on his lips and the barrel of the gun pointed to the back of his head. She can't help but think that the bastard would of told her when it was too late, when everything was said and done, all in the name of clearing his own conscious and dying without uttering a single lie to her.

Now? Now he stares at her like she's the biggest mistake he's ever made, his biggest failure and greatest regret.

It's killing her slowly, like he's using a dull butter knife to tear her from limb to limb and she wonders if she has made him feel this way in the past? Is this his way of punishing her? Of making her taste her own medicine? She knows she has said some terrible things to him, has tried to distance herself from him in the past and has even addressed him as a sociopath to others. All in the name of keeping him at arms length, as an asset, a job – she tried so hard not to view him as a person, a human, and a man.

He brews in his own misery and she has to constantly remind him that its ok- she's ok and in these moments she wishes she knew him better. If only they were closer, on better terms, more comfortable around each other; then she could offer him the comfort that her countless words cannot suffice.

She lost count at how many times her hand has flinched from the urge to reach for his, the moments when she's reached for him and retracted mid-air, forcing herself to stop and halting from fear of the unknown. And now? Well now she might not ever get another chance because she has lost him, and she is lost to him as well.

She lives in fear these days, and she has good reason to.

Fear of being rejected,

Fear of taking a leap of faith.

Fear of reaching out for him and he flinching away from her touch.

He makes her feel dirty, like she's covered in filth and no matter how often she washes her body, or how hard she scrubs at her flesh, the touch and feel of Tom won't erase. That night she had resigned to her room and let her emotions run free, she was sure that he heard her sobs echo from the walls and her heart sunk at the notion that, that realization didn't catapult him into action. He was usually the one who calmed her nerves and wiped away her tears. But now, he was causing her pain and refusing to comfort her through it.

His words had replayed in her mind over and over again until she visibly flinched and got up off the bed to make her way to the bathroom. She stripped off her clothing and turned on the shower, she waited until the cold water tuned hot and then hopped in. It wasn't enough to harbor feelings of shame and regret that crept up and made her cheeks turn red every time her mind would wander to that night on the boat, but on top of that, he had to make her feel that much worse- worthless because of it. By the time she exited the shower, she had used up the rest of the body wash, scrubbed her milky skin for the umpteenth time until it's was red and splotchy and raw.

He knew what she was doing, he had heard that shower run for an hours and he had seen with his own two eyes the evidence and yet- He said nothing.

She should be packing but she can't bring herself to do it, not like this, not ever. She watches the minutes go by on the alarm clock on top of the dresser, if Red has his way, she will be on Tom's boat this time tomorrow and she needs to do something to stop it. If she goes with Tom then any chance of a future with Red will be destroyed, that she is sure of. Even though he's the one literally pushing her into another man's arms, Lizzie knows that once she sets foot on that boat again, then their ship has sailed indefinitely.

She knows if she lets the fear dictate her actions then she will always be left wondering and she doesn't want to wonder anymore, she just wants to know.

She rises from the bed intent on setting all the cards out on the table.

She doesn't take the time to make herself look presentable, doesn't care that she has boy shorts and a tank top on sans a bra, she doesn't even knock on his door, just barges in with guns blazing. He's lying on top of the covers, with only remnants of the suit he was wearing earlier still on. His vest and tie disposed of as he rests against the headboard with his nose in a book.

"What did you expect from me?" Her voice is hoarse and thick with emotion that she doesn't even try to hide anymore. "Did you expect to sweep me off of my feet? Come into my life and turn it upside down? You turned yourself in to the FBI on my first day and not only did you request my presence but you made it abundantly clear that you would only speak to me. I was a rookie agent and you were number four on the most wanted list-"

He looks up from the book he was just seconds ago completely immersed in and gives her a pointed look while trying to school his reaction. She's half naked in front of him, wearing his name on the lower half of her body, the red material so tight and sparse that he can't tell if its underwear or shorts and a black tank that makes it impossibly easy for him to see her erect nipples brushing up against the thin material. He blinks a few times and averts his gaze before she could get wind of the reaction he's having to her scantly clad attire.

Was she for real? The veins in his forehead were about to pop if he didn't get rid of her soon before he said something he would surely regret but just as he was about to shoo her away, the meaning behind her words registered in his brain.

He can't help the laugh that escapes from his mouth- its utterly cold and laced with something she can't name. "Agent Keen-, Oh wait, that's right…" He pauses for a moment, she doesn't know if its for added effect or to censor his wording, "You're a wanted fugitive, actually if I'm not mistaken, you're number five on that same list, not to mention-" She sees the tick in his eye and the way he tries to bite down on the side of his cheek before he sets his book down on the night stand beside him and swings his feet off the bed and slowly makes his was towards her.

"Aren't you the same woman who allowed herself to be smitten by a double agent whose sole mission was to enter your life and lie and manipulate you into falling in love with him? A man who was paid to pretend to care about you? To pretend to love you?" His voice is solid as a rock, he doesn't yell at her, but there is so much judgment and mockery in his choice of wording and the way his eyes are glaring into hers- Its the most raw emotion she has ever seen in his eyes. "And are you that same woman who almost lost her life to said man after he beat you up and then held a gun to your head, ready to shoot? The same woman who after all that was said and done, all the lies and deceit, the manipulation and abuse, still chose to get on a boat with that man and hop into bed with him." He stands directly in front of her now and he almost flinches when he sees her chest heave and the slight shaking of her body. He hates what a bastard he can be, especially to her, especially after all he was put her through but the pettiness inside of him won't let him succeed.

He's so perplexed that he doesn't remember how to retreat or how to give her the upper hand or even just let some things go, but he just can't seem to let it go, can't seem to erase the images of her and Tom that haunt his every waking minute and doesn't know how to forgive and forget even though she clearly is trying to lay all her cards on the table.

He knows he's a bastard, so he just goes in for the kill. He raises his eyebrows in mock realization, as if he has just figured out the reasoning behind her actions.

"Ah ha," He says slowly, tongue clicking in the roof of his mouth, "It amazes me how you continue to surprise me Lizzie, Do you like being beat up? Is that what turns you on? Having Tom beat you up and then pound you in the bed-"

His words are cut by the sound of her backhanded slap that resonates throughout his dimly lit room. He doesn't so much as flinch, but she sees a storm begin to brew in his eyes.

She's shaking now, uncontrollably and she can't begin to fathom the words that just escaped his lip, words that cut her like a sphere.

Tears trickle down her cheeks while she fights to swallow the wail or sob that wants so badly to escape from her throat.

"You-, you son-of-a-bitch," She almost whispers, her face so shell-shocked that it leaves him breathless because he's never seen her this broken. "I'm not an object, or property for someone to own, I'm a person, with feelings and a heart, and soul…what is wrong with you? How utterly fucked up are you? You don't get to insinuate that I'm a whore, that I like being abused and used. I was broken- I'm broken, and you don't get to judge me for running into some other mans arms when you made sure to make it perfectly clear that you were unavailable."

Her teeth clatter with every word and her hand stings from the impact it made with his cheek but she doesn't care in the least, she doesn't even care what a pompous ass he can be at times, all she cares about is that come tomorrow if she doesn't fix them, he will send her off with Tom.

"I get that your pride might be hurt, or your ego, but you have this young, hot, woman who is literally begging you to be with her and all you're doing is pushing me as far away from you as you possibly can-"

"Your not a woman, you're a little girl who can't make up her mind about what she wants or who she wants. You think I should thank my lucky stars that a girl of your caliber would even entertain the thought of being with me?" He laughs at his own insinuation, practically mocking her. An embarrassed blush creeps up on her features and he tries with all his might to not think about how attractive it looks on her in his dimly lit room. "I'm sorry to inform you, but women do find me attractive and appealing, I've been with women who are sophisticated and beautiful and successful, and yes, young as well- maybe not as young as you are but surely more mature in conduct and just as attractive."

Ouch. He regrets the words even before they leave his mouth and he even tastes the bitterness that they are laced with. He watches as her jaw clenches and her hands involuntarily turn into fists.

His heart falls to the bottom of his stomach when she reaches up and wipes away the errant tears that cover her cheeks, he is such a fucking bastard, and he can't even handle it.

He hates himself. Hates what he has turned her life into. Hates what he has done to them.

He watches her body shake and he wants to take her into his arms and hold her, soothe her worries and let her know that he is the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on and he loves her with all his heart and soul.

Instead, he stalls- stands still as a statue, afraid to breathe, afraid to blink.

She lets out a deep, defeated sigh, and her lower lip quivering. "Tom never hurt me the way you do, I would've gladly taken beating after beating from Tom…because the physical pain would of hurt so much less than the impact of your words. Can you imagine… all you're insecurities, all the things you hate about yourself? All your fears and worries? All the worst possible things you can think of about yourself…your mistakes, your regrets…and then having the one person in this world who you love more than anyone or anything regurgitate and reconfirm all those things?"

Her eyes burn from her tears but she refuses too look anywhere but at him and he doesn't shy away- doesn't look away and she wonders if she will ever see him display any raw emotion that isn't carefully composed. There's a sadness that overcomes her in the moments that they stand face to face, she feels more than defeated, as if all the life is drained from her body. She realizes that there might be no hope left for them and the heaviness in her heart is too much to bear and she struggles for air while a strangled sob escapes her throat.

And she cries unapologetically, and she can't stop crying for all the things they might've had and all the things they'll never get to be.

"Okay," She utters in defeat, her voice sounding as helpless as she feels. "One day you will wake up and realize that this right here," She uses her hand to gesture between the two of them before wiping at her nose and pulling back the loose strands of hair that have stuck to the skin of her face. "This is the biggest mistake you have ever made. It might not be today. It might not happen tomorrow, or a year from now…It might not even occur to you until you're lying on your death bed but I promise you the day will come when you're life flashes before your eyes and you think of me- Of everything we could have had, everything we could have been together and everything I could of given you."

"Because I might not be as worldly or sophisticated as the women who you're used to or the women who you'll choose to be with in the future, but I promise you that none of them will be able to love you the way that I can, the way that I do."

She's so emaciated in her own grief and despair that she misses the ticking in his eye and the way his nostrils flare in an attempt to keep his emotions at bay. Her own vision is clouded and all she can see is shadows and outlines which cause her not to notice the glassines in his eyes and the pool of tears that threaten to escape with every flutter of his eyelashes as he tries to blink back years of what he assumed were unrequited feelings towards his Lizzie.

"You think you're strong now, strong enough to watch me walk away from you but you are just as possessive and territorial of me as I am of you, so have fun sulking in your own misery…"

She huffs and sighs simultaneously before slowly nodding her head in disappointment or disbelief- or maybe both, he doesn't know.

He doesn't know why he can't reach out and touch her, give her the comfort and reassurance she so desperately needs, his mind is yelling at him to move and envelope her in his arms and tell her everything she wants to hear and give her everything he possibly can but his body refuses to take a step forward.

He's never been so scared in his life to take action. She is all he's ever wanted, all he's ever dreamed of having. This woman has been the cause of his happiness and the beacon of hope in his darkest hours and she is capable of breaking him- what's left of him anyway. This is a moment he has dreamed about, played out in countless fantasies and yet – The thought of it now that its right in front of him, within reach, is the single most terrifying hurdle he has ever been confronted with.

He hates himself for hurting her but she has the power to destroy him and he has given her that power willingly but exposing his true feelings for her will give her all the ammunition needed to break him and he's already only holding on by a couple loose strings.

But when her body starts to move, her feet backtrack a couple steps and she turns to leave, something snaps in him.

Maybe it's the implications of her words, he has lived the past 25 years in loneliness and seclusion, the weight of his struggles and burdens and the implications of his choices have resulted in a life full of emptiness and sorrow- He has been accustomed to his own self-loathing and melancholy that he doesn't know how to be happy. She makes him so happy, she fills every single void in his heart, she makes him believe in redemption and second-chances, and she makes him want more for himself- love himself.

Lizzie makes his life more than just bearable, she makes it beautiful and he'll be damned if another man gets to be on the receiving end of everything she is capable of giving.

Before she can make an exit, his reflexes act and he uses his hand to grab at her arm before pulling her roughly against his body and wrapping his arms protectively around her waist and then shoving her against his bedroom door, causing it to shut.

Her chest is heaving, her mouth agape and breathless at the impact of his actions combined with the weight of his body pressing up against hers- limb to limb. She looks into his eyes and they have turned from green to a stormy grey, his pupils dilated and his face contorted in a hungry, wanton sort of way. Like a predator studying his prey, lascivious and dangerous but she wasn't so much as scared as she was aroused.

She lets out a low surprised moan escape when his hands move from her waist, caressing up and down the outside of her thighs before reaching the back of her knees and lifting her up and guiding her smooth bare legs to wrap around his waist, her hands instantly move to cradle his neck, her fingers grasp at the short-cropped hair with gently messaging the skin underneath.

Their eyes meet and it's a commutation of heat and desire and unrequited love that is so close to erupting; If only he'll let it.