The second time Red spent the night at Lizzy's apartment had been after a frantic phone call woke him out of a dead sleep.
His stomach dropped when he read her name on his tiny, glowing cell phone screen; adrenaline surged in his veins while he fumbled to flip the phone open with clumsy fingers, hoping against hope that whatever problem would drive Lizzy to call him in the middle of the night wasn't too dire.
"Hey, Red. Sorry for calling so late," she said shakily, clearly struggling to keep the panic out of her voice; there was crying in the background, a miserable, desperate sound that showed no sign of stopping. "How much do you know about bringing down a fever? Agnes has a cold."
Red's eyes slid shut in relief. Agnes was sick, yes, but after everything she'd been through in her short life, a cold he knew how to deal with. A cold he could handle.
"I'll be right over."
Dressing quickly, Red gathered some essentials into a leather satchel and headed for his car. In his haste, he nearly forgot to leave Dembe a note explaining where he would be. Hopefully, his friend would've been able to make an educated guess even without one, but Red knew Dembe was especially worried about him lately. It wouldn't be fair to disappear on him like that.
When he arrived at Lizzy's door, Red didn't even need to knock before she pulled it open; she must've been watching from the window, waiting to catch sight of his headlights driving down her quiet street, listening for the sound of his feet in the hall.
"Thanks so much for coming," Lizzy whispered, closing the door behind him as softly as she could. "I can't even begin to tell you what this means to me."
Red reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "It'll be all right, Lizzy."
She swallowed hard, and nodded in the direction of a makeshift little bed she'd set up on the couch, where an exhausted-looking Agnes was sleeping fitfully. "She cried herself to sleep. For now, at least. It's been like that for hours. She cries herself to sleep, wakes up miserable, and starts all over again."
Lizzy walked across the room, silent in her stocking feet, and stood over Agnes, subtly worrying her scar in a way that would have probably been discreet if Red wasn't so familiar with her nervous habit. "She's never been sick before. It must be so confusing for her," she said, her voice breaking.
Red set his bag on the floor, then shrugged out of his jacket and hung it by the door. Worried though she was, Lizzy still did a double-take when he turned around again.
"What are you wearing?"
He stopped short and took stock of his clothing. "Polo shirt, chinos…"
"Are those sneakers?" she asked, and the way her face scrunched up was adorable enough that Red didn't really care whether she was judging his clothing choices or not.
"Yes? This didn't seem like a three-piece suit and dress shoes kind of visit."
"No, I guess not."
Lizzy seemed at a loss standing there, biting her lip, distracted by his unusual outfit. Self-consciousness began to itch its way up from the base of Red's neck and his ears grew warm under her continued scrutiny.
The moment stretched.
Lizzy cleared her throat and looked away first. "Anyway, um…" Her cheeks went pink. "It's-it's a good look on you."
Oh.
Maybe he didn't have anything to be self-conscious about, then.
Red let out a breath and with it, some of the unexpected tension in his shoulders loosened.
Perhaps he didn't need a late-night illness as a pretense to wear fewer layers of armor around Lizzy, in this… sacred space… where somehow a family had been forged from conflict and uncertainty. Perhaps this, tonight, was another milestone on the road to rebuilding some of what they once had.
(Granted, the bit of fire in Lizzy's eyes did surprise him a little. There was a difference between understanding that she was ostensibly still attracted to him and seeing evidence of it firsthand.)
"So," he said, breaking the awkward silence, "how about I take a closer look at the patient?"
"Right. Yeah. I doubt she'll stay asleep much longer, anyway."
Lizzy led him over to her dining room table, which was doing a passable impression of the baby aisle at the drug store.
"I, um… I bought just about everything they had. I don't know what works best," she said, staring at the haphazard spread of baby products, and began chewing on the skin at the edge of her thumb.
"Well, they didn't have all of this stuff the last time I was…" He trailed off and shrugged. A moment later, he felt Lizzy's hand on his shoulder, returning the reassuring squeeze he'd given her earlier. "What kind of a thermometer is that?" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
"I'm not sure. It had good reviews. Besides, I have three others."
Red chuckled and Lizzy smiled, just a little, just enough to remind him of some of those evenings they'd spent at his friend's theatre, running lines to stave off boredom and fear. And for the first time in a long time, those memories didn't call up anything but a wistful nostalgia. Not pain. Not grief. Not turmoil. It was simply a pleasant memory of the past, and now that the present—maybe even the future—was no longer so grim, it wasn't as heartbreaking to remember.
Agnes began to stir on the couch, making distressed little noises before she even managed to open her eyes properly. Red exchanged a glance with Lizzy before bending down to scoop the sniffling infant into his arms.
Agnes' face lit up when she realized who was holding her, but her joy was quickly swept away when she sneezed and her face crumpled in discomfort and tears began to flow again.
"Oh, I know, honey, I know. Being sick is no fun." He pressed his cheek to her forehead. "She does feel warm."
Lizzy checked the clock on her phone. "Her medicine must be wearing off. She's due for another dose in half an hour."
Red nodded. "Come on, Agnes. Let's get you changed and ready for bed."