A/N One-shot set after episode 3x5 (SPOILERS), exploring the events of the hanger scene and Solomon's characterization of their relationship. Please note, don't read if Solomon's 'little of both' comment offended you.

11. A Little of Both

After they left the house of the girl and her father, Red and Liz moved to a modest safe house near North Park so they could be close to Dembe. It was late now. They had said almost nothing to one another of the day's events. Exhausted, Liz had gone to bed, but Red knew that sleep would elude him that night. He sat on the couch cradling a tumbler of scotch in his hand, eyeing the worn carpet beneath his feet with distaste while the events in the hanger rolled over in his mind like a snuff film spinning over a projector, punctuated by Solomon's words and Lizzie's screams.

He knew that the sound of her screams would haunt him the rest of his days, another burn mark on his soul - a keening wail echoing through the hanger, proof that he couldn't save her, and worse, that she knew it. The last time he'd heard her scream in pure fear she had been just four years old. But she wasn't a child any longer, he thought as she appeared in the doorway, flitting his eyes briefly over her body.

What is the deal with you two anyways?

She was wearing a tank top and sleep pants with a thick waistband that stretched low across her hips. A small sliver of skin was visible between her top and pants and he shuddered imperceptibly. He was instantly brought back to the image of her pinned to the table by large men she couldn't hope to fight, struggling and whimpering as Solomon subjected her to his sick theatrics. She had literally been helpless – he couldn't help her.

There again, her shirt had ridden up, exposing curve of her hips and stomach. A primal pool of fear had settled in his stomach when he had seen it. That thin line of exposed flesh was a gulf of vulnerability. He knew it as sure as he knew the importance of drawing first blood in a fight. To bleed – or to show soft, secret flesh – is to give away your power. As a young, attractive woman in his criminal underworld she had precious little to begin with. She didn't belong here. She belonged to his past and he needed to keep her there, keep her protected.

Some say it's a daddy/daughter thing

He held his tumbler to his lips as he watched her approach.

"It's late. You should be in bed, Elizabeth. We have a long day tomorrow."

She stopped short, hurt ghosting across her face at his cold reception. "Are you scolding me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow slightly. She watched as his lip twitched in distaste at her words. When he didn't respond she tried again. "I can't sleep" she said flatly, and that seemed to work.

He gestured to the empty space on the couch next to him and leaned forward to pour a splash of whisky into another tumbler. He handed it to her wordlessly and she sat down, her body tense. He knew what she was feeling all too well. The adrenaline after a near miss doesn't stop pumping when you're out of danger. It makes tight rods of your limbs, and beats your heart like a drum in the night.

She took a small sip of scotch and closed her eyes as the amber liquor burned her throat. He knew that feeling too. It was real, and comforting. He took a long pull from his own glass. There were deep creases around his eyes, underscored by dark circles. He still hadn't looked at her, focusing only on the tumbler in his hand, his eyes occasionally drifting to the side to stare at some unknown thought.

She wrapped her hands pensively around her tumbler, overcome with the feel of the cool glass against her warm skin, her heart thumping, pumping blood to her hands, her feet -everywhere. She was alive.

"I can't stop thinking about him" she said quietly, staring at her hands. "Solomon. Whether he would have gone through with…what he said" she said carefully.

Red's knuckles tightened around his tumbler as he brought it to his lips again. He swallowed tightly before answering her. "Matias Solomon is a sadistic psychopath. Utterly corrupt. He would have done it. And worse" he added hollowly, not meeting her eye.

Liz's skin prickled, not just at his words but his tone. He was obviously referring to the way Solomon had trailed the knife suggestively over her breast. She felt sick to her stomach. In that one action, Solomon had made it horribly clear what his intentions were and in doing so had viciously sexualized her in front of Red. Did he think she didn't understand? Was he disgusted? She hated that he wouldn't look at her.

She drew her arms around herself. "You think I'm that naive? That I don't understand what could have happened today? I'm a criminal profiler, Red." She took a deep breath. "You know what the worst part is" she said tentatively. "Not even what he was going to do…but that he was going to do it in front of you."

Red did look at her then. He turned his head slowly, his eyes burning. "There is nothing in this world – nothing - that could ever diminish you in my eyes."

Others swear it's May-September

As she met his fearsome gaze she understood then that he was deeply angry, though not with her. After a moment he looked away again and refilled their glasses, wrenching the stopper from the bottle almost aggressively, his expression grim. She raised her tumbler to her lips and downed the contents in one, wincing as the harsh liquid seared her mouth.

He frowned as he observed her. "If you can't sleep there are pills in the kit – now that your name is off that website it should be safe for you to take one. I'll keep watch. You need a proper night's sleep, Elizabeth. No more of this" he added, gently removing the tumbler from her hand and setting it on the table.

"I'd rather not. I mean… that's not what I need" she said awkwardly.

His expression hardened and he nodded tightly, looking away. "I understand. You don't trust me. And after today you're right not to" he said bitterly. "Twice I failed to protect you. Those dearest to me were endangered because I was betrayed by one of my own. And I didn't see it." He drained his own glass and tossed it back on the table, where it wobbled for a moment before coming to rest.

Liz put her hand on the couch between them. "You're wrong. I do trust you. Especially after today. You've survived in this world for over twenty years and you've done it by being alone. Caring for others makes you vulnerable and yet you're willing to do it for me. You could have been killed today too. I trust you Red."

She went to get up from the couch and she felt his hand grab hers as she stood. "What do you need?" he said looking up at her, his eyes dark and weary.

She met his gaze tentatively. "I need to sleep… but every time I lie down and close my eyes I feel like I'm back on that table, with strangers… those men are holding me down and I feel like I can't breathe" she said, her voice cracking. She looked down at their joined hands and saw for the first time deep purple bruises on his wrist where he had struggled desperately to escape from the plastic ties so that he could help her. "Will you hold me until I fall asleep?" She looked back at him, her expression almost childlike – sleepy and frightened, as though she'd just woken from a nightmare.

His brow knitted slightly in surprise, but he said nothing, only nodding slowly. He followed her to the bedroom where she climbed into bed, scooting over to the far side and drawing back the cover for him before curling into a fetal position with her back to him. He sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed and removed his shoes, swinging his legs onto the mattress and reclining tentatively next to her. Remembering her request, he placed his hand hesitantly on her arm; her skin was shockingly warm and soft under his calloused palm.

A second later she reached back and took his hand, pulling his arm around her waist and curving her warm little body into his. He stayed perfectly still, not daring to move a muscle as she wriggled closer to him, her slender fingers entwined with his large hand while her ass pressed against his groin. Soon after, he felt her body relax as sleep claimed her and she left him alone with his memories of the day's events once again.

I prefer to believe… it's a little of both.