Liz heard Red's voice calling out her name as if from a distance, worried rather than passion-rough, as her memory of him moved over her, inside her, with his head thrown back in ecstasy, his face the picture of pure bliss. She reached out to touch his arched neck and it was warm but not sweaty, the incongruity of the images clashing in her mind.
Then he touched her, touched her where he hadn't touched her in her mental image, hands holding the sides of her face when the image of him was bracing his weight on his arms instead.
"Elizabeth? Are you all right?" he said. "Please listen to me, find your way back. I'm right here waiting for you."
Liz followed Red's faraway voice as it guided her through the twists and turns in her memories back to the present. Once her blurry vision cleared, his face snapped back into focus, slightly older, with a few more worry lines etched here and there, and more white in his short-cropped hair.
He must have led her out of the bathroom while she was lost in her mind; they were both standing at the foot of his bed and he had his towel wrapped around his waist.
Red's face softened when he recognized that Liz had returned to herself at last. He brushed an errant lock of hair back from her forehead before lowering his hands from her face.
"Where were you?" he asked gently.
Liz breathed deeply through her nose, struggling to calm her heartbeat, to slow her racing thoughts. "With you. We were on the run," she said. "Oh my god."
Red moved to back away but Liz stopped him, clutching at his arm like she'd drift off to sea if she let go.
"What did you see?" he asked, his voice strangely hoarse.
"You. Your scars. You… We were…" Red held his breath, watching her warily with wide eyes. He looked so scared. Like even the slightest wrong move from her would make him bolt. Like he was terrified of the next words out of her mouth. That was all the confirmation she needed that her memories were real and not some bizarre construction of her manipulated mind. "Last night wasn't the first time we slept together."
It wasn't a question and Red knew there wasn't an option for denial; he gave the slowest, most imperceptible shake of his head Liz had ever seen. She nodded, sure of herself now.
"The shipping container," she said, also not a question.
Red swallowed convulsively. "Yes. That was the first time we made love."
"Were there others?"
He took a moment to answer her. "There were. The first night we spent at my friend's theatre. After Solomon," he said. "The… the night you were exonerated."
"Oh my god."
Liz sat down hard on the edge of the bed; Red had no choice but to sit as well in order for her to maintain her grip on him, but it was probably better that he did anyway, because he was a little unsteady on his feet himself.
The significance of them being together the night Liz was exonerated weighed heavily on her in particular and offered her context for some things that had always given her pause. Tom's behavior when he showed up to her motel room with a dozen roses the night after she was released from prison, for instance.
When it became obvious that Liz had only just arrived and hadn't slept there the night before, Tom's eyes had grown dead and cold for a fraction of a second, the same way they had when she had uncovered his secret, and later when she had him bound in the belly of a boat.
Tom had gotten really pushy after that, pressuring Liz to marry him whenever they spent time together, to go back to the way things were and just pretend nothing had happened to change their relationship since they'd been apart. His impatience and fervor had struck her then as over the top and out of the blue, but if he had perhaps been in on the plot to alter her memories, then…
A wave of nausea washed over Liz. Had any of it been real? Anything at all that happened between her and Tom after he tried to worm his way back into her life, the things she thought she said to him, felt for him… Had any of it even happened? Or was it all a ruse, meant to disguise the truth? To use him as a placeholder in her memories, an 'acceptable' alternative to Red?
Tom was dead—she might literally never know. All she had now was Red and his insight and perspective to help her rebuild her perception of herself and her own history. But for how long? Yet again, she cursed the unfairness of his illness. How much time had they already lost?
"You never told me. All this time. Through all of it, through everything. You never said anything," Liz said. "How hard that must have been…"
Red's muscles had tensed under Liz's grip when she began to speak, but once it was obvious she wasn't angry about his silence, his entire body relaxed next to her.
"It wasn't as if I had much of a choice in the matter. Circumstances made talking to you about any of this next to impossible. Between the pregnancy and Solomon's quest to hunt you down and the… aftermath… of that, there was never a moment when it made sense to start that discussion. As much as it pained me, I thought you had made your choice and I did my best to respect it.
"When you told me what Krilov said to you, I almost let my mind get away from me. I almost let myself get caught up in the possibility of having an explanation for some of the… changes between us. But I couldn't afford to allow myself to believe in a fairy tale.
"By the time Kate tried her damnedest to destroy me—and mostly succeeded—it was too late to broach the subject. You already thought I was…" Red trailed off, uneasy as ever with the concept of being her father—which made a lot more sense to Liz now. "It wasn't as if I could just… sit you down and explain to you how we carried on a love affair for months when you had a DNA test with supposedly incontrovertible proof that you and I were related.
"Instead, I tried to ascertain what Krilov could've been after as discreetly as possible. At first I wasn't sure exactly which of your memories could be missing. After I figured out what the… theme, let's say, of what was stolen from you was, I couldn't try to explain, even if all signs pointed to my wishful thinking fairy tale being the truth against all odds. There was nothing I could do but continue the search on my own.
"Obviously, without your input, I couldn't pin down specific missing events. And with Krilov off-limits and likely to be uncooperative even if he wasn't, I never did find any actionable evidence of who orchestrated the manipulation. Kate was gone by that point, of course, but… just judging by timing and opportunity, I can't imagine it was anyone but Kate. Although, I also can't imagine she would've been able to do it alone."
"Tom."
"I think so, yes," he said, after a moment. "Timing and opportunity."
"And motive. And… easy repeat access to me." Liz's stomach roiled. "I bet he went along with it eagerly, too. He finally had his chance to erase you and our connection from my life. I don't think Kate would have done that on her own—she wanted me to know the truth about you, not… forget you completely. No, this has Tom's fingerprints all over it. He was always so jealous of you."
Red stared at her, silent for a long moment. "The feeling was mutual."
Liz felt her face heat, suddenly aware of the subtext between Red and Tom's animosity in a way she never understood before.
"You realize what this means, right?"
His brow furrowed. "I'm sorry. No, I don't."
"Agnes. Agnes could be—god, probably is—yours. Even if my memory of being with Tom before we went on the run wasn't a lie, it's much more likely that you're her father—timing and opportunity. We have to get you two tested."
Red reeled back, as if his mind was utterly unable to process what Liz was saying; she, on the other hand, had taken to the idea of Red being Agnes' father so quickly, she was surprised her chest hadn't burst from the pure joy of it. She adjusted to the idea so quickly because it was right, or at least because it was the answer she wanted. The answer that gave them hope for the first time in a very long time. Hope for Red's illness, of course, but in general, too. Hope for them, for her little family that could.
"I couldn't ask that of her," Red said.
"You can and you will," Liz insisted. "For god's sake, Red. We're this close, don't give up on me now."
Red looked genuinely panicked at the suggestion, so Liz decided to take another tack.
"Just… even hypothetically—what would it entail for her to help you?"
"Assuming we're a match? They would take a sample of her healthy blood and use it to synthesize a treatment for me."
"And that would mean what—a blood draw? You're willing to sacrifice yourself over a couple vials of blood?"
"She's a child. It's too much to ask of a child."
"She's a curious, brave, compassionate child. She could be our child—yours and mine, together. At worst, this would be an adventure for her. And she can have a doctor's treat after. I usually buy her a stuffed animal or a new outfit for one of her princesses, but you officially have my permission to spoil her rotten."
"I don't know what to say."
"Say you'll think about this. At least talk to her."
"And just how in the hell am I supposed to do that?" he groused. "'Hello, remember me? I might be your long lost biological father. Can I have someone jab a needle into your arm just in case it'll save my life?'"
"Jesus, Red. Do you really think if we asked Agnes if she wanted to help you, she would say no? You were her world while I was in a coma after Tom died. You were there with her through everything. My god, you're probably the only reason she's as well-adjusted as she is."
"While I appreciate the credit for my child-rearing skills, I—"
"Don't be so fucking self-sacrificing. Especially when you have people who need you here. I need you, remember? Agnes needs you. Especially if you're her father. God. She's already dealt with so much. I don't want her ending up like me."
"Like you?"
"Fucked up."
"Elizabeth."
"Come on. You know I am. So are you. But can you deny you'd be a different person now if your dad wasn't an asshole?" she asked. "It's essentially harmless for her. Certainly nothing compared to the harm that losing another father would cause. We can't get so close to a solution only to give up without even trying. Give Agnes a chance neither of us got."
Red was silent for a long moment with his lips pressed together in a thin line, each second more excruciating that the last. "We'll do the test."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Liz threw her arms around Red's shoulders and buried her face in his neck. "Thank you," she breathed.
It was only then that they registered that Red was still almost entirely nude, with nothing but his bath towel wrapped precariously around his waist to preserve his modesty.
Liz pulled back slowly, drawing her hands down his bare chest as she went, distracted by the way his muscles moved in response to her touch. He took her hands in his, stopping their exploration before they reached their inevitable destination snd gave them a quick squeeze.
"It's probably best if we… hold off until later. I have to keep up my strength, after all."
"That's fair. I don't want to screw you to death after all this."
"Oh, but what a way to go," he said with a twinkle in his eye, and they grinned at each other, the tension finally broken.
Liz caressed his cheek one final time and stole a kiss, quick but firm.
"I'll go get ready, then we can grab breakfast and pick up Agnes."
