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Thank you so much Literary Bitca for your help, suggestions and comments. Love you!


After cleaning the mess in the kitchen, Red and Liz settled on the couch in the living room. They had to talk. The dynamic in their relationship had changed in the last few hours. Liz knew he still held secrets about her past and what happened that night, but she had learned enough to consider a new line of questioning.

"Red?"

He closed his arms more tightly around her, his hand on her waist under the hem of her blouse. She could feel how peaceful he was through their link. Their kiss seemed to have freed him to some extent. He was more open, letting her sense his feelings, his love, how much he cared about her.

"Yes, sweetheart," he breathed against her head resting on his shoulder.

"What happened that night?" she asked, feeling him tense against her.

Red sighed before tilting her head to kiss her lips. He wanted to kiss her as much as possible before she decided to leave him. Because she would leave him when she'd learned the truth, he was sure of it. His tongue brushing against hers sent shivers up his spine, electrifying his whole body. He fought to keep his powers in check when she moaned deeply into his mouth. He wanted to map her mouth, to find every spot that would make moan and scratch her nails over his scalp; he wanted to learn how to make her lose control. He wanted to make her feel how much he loved her before losing her.

They broke the kiss, breathless, and Liz realized she was straddling his thighs, grinding her hips against him, his hard length pressed against her core. She felt heat creep up her cheeks when she sat back on his lap and ran her fingertips on Red's face, love shining in her eyes, and he felt his heart bleed at the sight. He knew that anger and fear would replace love in her eyes as soon as he started talking.

"What's wrong?" Liz asked when she saw the light fade in his eyes and their connection wane. He was closing his mind; he was shutting her out.

"I love you," he suddenly breathed against her lips, closing his eyes, finally breaking the mental connection.

Liz's heart missed a beat and her hands left his face. She looked at him, his closed eyes, the small grimace on his lips, his creased brow. She couldn't feel anything from him; his mental shield was raised, blocking her outside. For the first time since she met him, heat wasn't radiating from his body. He felt cold and the coldness was seeping into her. She was scared.

His eyes still closed, he put his hands on her hips, silently asking her to sit back on the couch. Liz complied, ice constraining her heart. She watched him open his eyes and get up without looking at her. She didn't understand what was going on. He had said he loved her and now, he was acting so coldly. Was it because she hadn't said it back? Did he think she didn't love him?

Liz looked around, trying to find Dembe. The bodyguard would know how to handle Red, but she found no trace of the dark-skinned man. Red was scaring her; she had never seen him in such a state. He was pacing the room, his eyes everywhere except her. She felt useless, powerless. She knew deep inside that he wouldn't accept her declaration of love now. It was too late. And she didn't want to say empty words. It was too important; she wanted to mean them when she finally said those three little words. And even if she did love him, she wasn't ready to say it. Tom's shadow was still hovering over them and until that problem was solved, she wasn't sure she could devote herself completely to this relationship.

She saw him stop facing the window, watching over the house she was still supposed to share with her husband.

"I married Carla in 1980," he began, his back to her. "A year later, Jennifer was born. We were young. Too young. When they died…" his voice tightened and he cleared his throat before continuing. "When I lost them… Alan played on my rage. He sent me to infiltrate the Order. No-one knew who killed my family, so Alan made it look like it was someone from the Guild, making it plausible for me to change my allegiance."

Liz could see the tense line of his shoulders, his forehead against the cold glass panel. She didn't dare to move. She was dying to close her arms around him, to comfort him, but she knew he had to go through it by himself. Just as she went through the memory of the fire by herself.

"I had been briefed. I knew what information I could give and what to keep secret. It worked for almost five years. I became the Concierge of Crime. I was the traitor. The monster. The man who betrayed the Guild. And then, one day, out of the blue, Blaine sent me to retrieve the Fulcrum." Liz held her breath. She would soon know the truth. "I didn't know there was a child. Nobody told me."

He stopped again, his ragged breath fogging the window. Liz closed her eyes; it hurt her to see him so lost. She tried to send him some of her strength but his mind was closed, impervious to every attempt to help him. He was in his world and she had no place there, she realized suddenly. Because of her he had lost his family. Because of her his world had shattered into pieces. Because of her, he had spent thirty years alone.

"I was supposed to be the only one on the mission, but they appeared out of thin air. They were two, a man and a woman, a couple. I was arguing with your father and they materialized." It was the first time since he started talking that he acknowledged her presence in the room. "They started shooting. Your mother fell. I didn't know what to do. I tried to stop them. I unleashed my powers, but it was too late. They disappeared leaving two dead bodies behind. Your parents."

She could hear his labored breaths; his gravely voice barely a whisper. Even with his mind closed to her, she could feel waves of despair and anguish emanate from his form outlined by the early afternoon sun.

She suddenly saw his hand form a fist at his side and before she could say a word, he punched through the window pane in front of him.

"Red!"

She got up and rushed to him, but his outstretched arm stopped her. He didn't turn to look at her, his eyes studying the blood running from his cut knuckles between his fingers before leaving scarlet drops on the wooden floor and glass shards at his feet.

"I couldn't do anything for them, it was too late and the house was ablaze," he said. "I kept searching for the Fulcrum, walking through the flames. That's when I heard it. At first I thought it was the wood screeching as it burned but I soon realized it was a scream. Your scream. I ran. There was another human being in this hell and I couldn't let anybody else die. I followed your voice, hoping I would find you in time."

"You were so small, so scared," he finally lifted his eyes to her, a small smile at the corner of his lips. "You curled up against my chest when I took you in my arms." His eyes on her were soft, unfocused, and Liz knew what he was seeing. "You reminded me of my daughter, the way she would sneak into our bed in the middle of the night and snuggle up to me. You were safe and we were almost to the door when I lost control. I don't know what happened. I just blacked out. The next thing I remember is waking up bare-chested in the yard, the skin of my back freezing cold and you were crying."

When he didn't add anything, Liz took a step forward, slowly closing the distance between them. She stopped when he shook his head, giving him enough space to gather his thoughts and come back form the hell that night had been for both of them.

"We touched, that's what happened. I saw it when Meera helped me with the block. I touched the skin of your neck and you collapsed. I'm sorry Red, it was my fault," Liz finally whispered when the silence became too much to bear. "You saved me that night and I almost killed you."

"Oh Lizzie," he breathed, opening his arms, when he saw her eyes fill with tears.

She walked to him, burying her face in his neck. His mind was still closed to her and she needed the physical contact to make sure everything was all right, that everything would be all right. She breathed him in, his scent soothing her.

"Your hand," Liz whispered when something hot soaked through the back of her blouse.

She left the protection of his arms and took his bleeding hand in hers. Without a word, she led him back to the couch and sat down, waiting for him to join her. When he finally sat, she presented her hand, palm up and waited until his hand was pressed against hers.

"Do you trust me?" she asked. It had always been her ritual before using her healing power on someone.

"With my life," he smiled sadly.

She smiled back, placed her free hand on top of his and closed her eyes. She stayed silent a few seconds before opening her eyes.

"You have to open up, Red," she said softly.

Red took a deep breath and Liz felt his mental shield lower slightly. He was a soft buzz at the back of her mind. She still couldn't sense his feelings, but his presence was here, with her. She felt relief at the sensation. She had never realized how present he had been in her life until he cut himself totally from her. She smiled tenderly and, once again, closed her eyes.

Red watched her closely. He knew about her power but had never actually seen her use it consciously. When she closed her eyes, he felt her conscience infiltrate his mind and spread into his body. She was everywhere, exploring every corner of his being, stopping every few seconds to study an old wound before moving away. It was a strange sensation, not really hurting but slightly annoying. Like an itch he couldn't scratch, a sound he couldn't hear.

Suddenly, his hand started to freeze, ice crystals forming and melting instantly around his fingers, he tried to withdraw his hand from Liz's grip but she stopped him, closing her fingers tightly around his palm.

"Don't move," she ordered.

The freezing sensation was too much for him. He was made of fire and he could feel his body trying to push her away, to protect itself. If she didn't stop soon, he wasn't sure he could hold back the burning wave he felt growing inside him. But it stopped. As suddenly as she had been there, her presence left his body and she opened her eyes, smiling. Her unnatural ice blue eyes faded slowly to their natural blue and she let go of his hand, breathing deeply.

"See? Not even a small scar," she said proudly. "How do you feel?"

He stayed silent a moment to reign in his powers, his eyes studying his newly healed hand. It had been a close call and his heart was still beating furiously. Even if she had said that her Gift would protect her from his, he wasn't willing to take the chance.

"Never do that again," he said sternly.

She looked at him, hurt shining in her eyes. She didn't understand. He was pushing her away. His mental shield blocked her when she tried to sense his feelings. His mind was once again closed. Liz felt fury burst into her heart.

"I did it when I was four and I'll do it again if you need me! You can push me away; you can close your mind all you want. But I'm here and I plan to stay, Red. Look at me!" she barked when he turned his stare away. "I'll do it again because I love you, deal with that!"

They both froze at her words. She said it. She hadn't planned to say it so soon but she did love him. It wasn't empty words. Looking up, she saw his tear-filled eyes and suddenly felt a wave of heat and love engulf her. His mental shield was down and he was drowning her in his feelings. He leaned forward crashing his lips to hers, his body covering hers. She cradled him between her thighs as she stretched out along the length of the couch, his tongue invading her mouth. She scratched her nails across his scalp and moaned when his hand at the small of her back pushed her more closely against his growing arousal.

"Wow," she breathed when they broke the kiss, shaking her head to clear her mind.

"Sorry," he rasped, his voice even lower than usually.

He pushed himself back to sit on his haunches, Liz's legs slipping from his waist, looking up at him from her spot, sprawled on the couch. His wrinkled white dress shirt, his opened vest; he was positively gorgeous. She could still feel his presence around her, his heat caressing her skin. She reached out for him when her stomach suddenly growled loudly. Red laughed under his breath and kissed her lips before getting up.

"Red!" she whimpered.

"Let's calm that hungry stomach of yours first," he laughed, waiting for her to take his outstretched hand.

She took it, grumbling softly and he used his grip on her to pull on her hand, making her lose balance and fall into his arms. He took advantage of her distraction and kissed her deeply, his hands squeezing her buttocks. She ran her hands up his back, feeling the proof of his bravery under her fingertips.

"May I see them?" she asked softly when he broke the kiss.

He didn't ask what she meant. He knew. From the moment he had felt her break the block in the White Room, he had known she would ask that question. Without a word, he stepped back and took off his vest, placing it neatly on the couch and started to unbutton his shirt when Liz's hand joined his. He looked at her in surprise; she smiled when he dropped his hands to his side, letting her take care of the shirt.

She kissed him lightly on the sternum, her fingers popping one button at the time. He hissed when she reached the waistband of his slacks, playing a few seconds with the trail of hair she found there before pulling his shirttails out. She trailed her hands up his chest memorizing the old scars she had seen from the inside before slipping her fingers under his shirt at his shoulders and pushing it back.

He stayed motionless, his eyes closed, his breath short; she could see his heart beating fast at his pulse point on his neck. She slid the shirt down his arms and finally took it off, placing it next to the vest on the couch. Liz moved slowly back to him, her fingertips grazing his shoulder lightly before walking around.

"Oh my God, Red," she breathed when she saw the damages on his back.

His muscles tensed under her stare. She could feel his discomfort through their link but he kept his mental shield down. He started when she kissed the scarred skin of his shoulder.

"You were unconscious on the floor," she began softly. "The fire was closing on us, I tried to shake you but your eyes stayed closed. I didn't know what to do. I waited too long. Your coat caught fire and you woke up. You pushed me away when I tried to help you."

She let her fingers caress the uneven surface of his back, her heart tightening at the sight. She was responsible for his injuries.

"It wasn't your fault," Red said. "It was the link."

"I don't understand."

"When you touched me, we formed the soulmate bond and I wasn't prepared. I lost control," he explained softly, standing still, his head bowed.

"I drew in your strength in order to drag you out." She understood now how a four year old could have dragged an unconscious grown man out.

"What happened next?" he asked. He needed to remember as much as her.

"I turned you on your back to smother the flames. You seemed conscious, you talked to me."

"I don't remember," he shook his head.

"You asked me to take off your clothes. When I saw your back. You were bleeding so much," her voice broke and he felt tears when she kissed his back tenderly.

He turned around, taking her in his arms and kissing her hair lightly. Both were completely open, their mental shields down, their feelings mingling. None knew who felt what. They were living the moment together, as one.

"When I saw your back, I knew what to do. I don't know how. I just knew," she continued, her voice muffled. "I put my hands on you and you screamed. I couldn't stop. I knew I was hurting you, but I couldn't stop."

"You were four. You weren't supposed to have your powers yet," he tried to reassure her.

"I hurt you," she repeated.

He pulled her closer, kissing her forehead tenderly.

"Do you know how your Gift works?" he asked, looking down at her.

"I push the body to heal itself. I draw into the patient reserves and guide the body so it can heal the injury," she explained, not really knowing why he asked.

He nodded silently at her explanation. It corroborated his suspicion.

"I pushed you away that night, didn't I?"

"How did you know?" She took a step back, leaving his arms to look at him puzzled.

"I'm made of fire Lizzie. When you heal me, the freezing sensation is too much. I can't bear it. My Gift protects me," he explained sadly. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, I wasn't myself," he apologized.

"You didn't," she replied, not understanding what he was talking about.

"Oh but I did. Look at your wrist. Look at the mark I left on you," his angry voice surprised her. She didn't understand.

Suddenly he was kneeling at her feet, taking her right hand in his, he turned her palm up and brought it next to his left shoulder. There, surrounded by scarred skin, a weirdly shaped mark of unblemished skin met her eyes. He let go of her hand and, slowly, she turned it downward, the scar on her wrist matching perfectly with the mark on his shoulder when she lowered her hand to his back.