To Red's surprise, he slept. For hours, it seemed—the light streaming in the bedroom window had taken on a warm afternoon glow by the time he opened his eyes again. Still foggy from sleep, he slowly stretched out under Lizzy's quilt, and made one more discovery: he was alone.

No momentary rush of panic came along with his discovery, however, which was also a surprise. It was often Red's first thought upon awakening that Lizzy was gone, but today he didn't doubt for a second that she would still be there. Sure, it was her apartment, but even so…

Many a completely normal morning was colored by that fear, and he had to remind himself frequently that she was back, that she was safe, that the living nightmare of her death was long past, and hopefully something he would not live to experience again. Waking up without even a hint of that fear for once was… refreshing. Almost as refreshing as several solid hours of sleep.

Red threw back the covers and padded out to the living room. He found Lizzy exactly where he expected her to be: in the rocking chair with Agnes napping on her chest.

"Hey," she said, smiling faintly when she noticed him in the doorway. "Did you sleep OK?"

He folded his arms and leaned back against the door jamb. "I think so. No sleep talking or walking as far as I can tell…?" He trailed off with a questioning lilt to his voice, hoping she'd confirm it for him.

"No."

"No nightmares?" he asked, still attempting to project a nonchalance he didn't quite feel.

Lizzy would understand what he was really asking. Unfortunately, she had to witness the full extent of his sleep disturbances more than once when they were on the lam. (There'd been nights like that after they were back, too, though no one was around to witness them then. And of course there had been more after she died, but he didn't like to think about those nights anymore.)

Red had witnessed his fair share of Lizzy's bad nights, too, which was part and parcel of spending so much time with each other in boltholes, ready to run at a moment's notice. (Tom Keen was always a villain in her subconscious, even if it took longer for her to accept that he was one in reality as well.)

"No, no nightmares."

"Good. I wouldn't want to disturb—"

"You wouldn't have disturbed me," she said, quick and insistent. "I would've been glad you were here and not by yourself."

"OK," he offered awkwardly, for lack of something better to say; they lapsed into silence for a long, uncomfortable moment.

Honestly, Red was somewhat taken aback by Lizzy's vehemence. It would take some getting used to, he supposed. The idea that he didn't need to hide his foibles for fear of burdening her or appearing weak to her was a foreign one. Truly letting his guard down with a partner hadn't been an option for a long time. Not to mention that a lot of the relationships he'd been in, complicated though they were, came with much less baggage than this one.

"I ordered take out," she said, after a while, once the silence began to feel suffocating and Red found himself unable to fill it with anything near to his usual wit. "I thought you might be hungry when you woke up. It's in the fridge."

As if on cue, his stomach started to growl at the prospect of food and he couldn't help but smirk. "Sounds perfect," he said. "I'm sorry I left you hanging for—" he blinked at his watch in disbelief— "Did I really sleep for six hours?"

She nodded. "You must've needed it."

"I guess so."

"I, um…" Lizzy said, rubbing surreptitiously at the scar on her palm. "I hope you don't mind but… I made you a plate. So it would be easy to grab if things got hectic again, you know?"

"Of course I don't mind." He paused to drop a kiss at the crown of her head as he strolled past on the way to the kitchen. "Thank you."

"There's still some egg drop soup on the top shelf if you want any," she called after him.

"Maybe later. How's Agnes been?" Red said over his shoulder as he opened the fridge.

(His heart skipped a beat when he saw what was inside. Lizzy ordered from his favorite noodle shop, rather than her go-to Chinese place. Lately, he found that the simplest things resonated with him the most—little thoughtful gestures that he didn't ever ask for, but she took upon herself to do anyway. If this was what it was like to be on even footing with her, to approach their relationship as equals, he wouldn't trade it for the world.)

"Better than she's felt in days. She's been having trouble keeping solid food down since she got sick; I think swallowing all that mucus upsets her stomach, but she managed to eat some noodles without spitting up all over me."

Red dropped down onto the couch on the end nearest Lizzy and balanced his plate on his knee.

"That might be because these noodles are exquisite. She has good taste."

"You mean she has your taste."

He reached out and squeezed her hand where it lay on her armrest. "She'll be the best of both of us," he said, almost a non-sequitur, and his earnestness caught them both a little off guard. A joke about noodles hardly warranted it, but here they were nonetheless. Lizzy was quiet for a long moment before she responded.

"I hope so," she said, with a small smile. He returned it lazily, leaning closer to her and ducking his head to catch her gaze.

"How are you feeling, Lizzy?"

"My DayQuil is starting to wear off. Other than that—not as terrible as I did when I woke up. You make a good nurse."

"I make a better nurse than a patient," he said, and gave her hand one final squeeze before tucking in to his meal.

"Seriously? You seem like the kind of guy who would really enjoy taking a sick day."

"Sure, but that's only fun if you're playing hooky. What good is it if you're actually sick? Dembe is a fine caregiver, but believe me, he's a hard taskmaster when it comes to proper recovery from illness or injury. He has very little patience for my excuses. Or whining, which is the same thing as far as he's concerned."

"Come on, you mean he doesn't let you sit around binge watching Netflix all day when you could be doing physical therapy?"

"Binge watching?"

Lizzy raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you've never tried to watch unhealthy amounts of television in one go before."

Red shook his head with a shrug. "I once had an associate make me watch a series of videos of… questionable quality… for hours upon hours before he'd make a deal with me. Does that count?"

"No, that doesn't count. Well, this settles it. I know what we're doing the rest of the day. There's a whole world for you to discover here."

Lizzy's enthusiasm was contagious, and Red couldn't help but be charmed by the idea that wanting to share something with him could make her so happy. "Lizzy, I don't think I can remember seeing you this excited about something since… well, possibly ever."

"Hey, can you blame me? How often do I get to introduce you to something?" She nodded towards his half-eaten plate of food. "You think you could carry Agnes to the bedroom for me when you're done? My neck's a little stiff and since you're awake now, I'd rather relax in bed than try to watch something out here."

"Sure," he agreed.

Red tried not to feel like it was too good to be true that this could possibly be the new normal for him—lounging around with Lizzy well into the evening, with Agnes cocooned between them on top of Lizzy's quilt. Ever since he turned himself in to the FBI, he rarely had time for lazy days like this. But life was changing, after all. In ways he truly never would have anticipated.

They ended up picking something to watch at random that Netflix suggested Lizzy would like, apparently based on her viewing habits. Truth be told, it didn't really matter what they were watching; Red didn't remember much of it later. His attention was more thoroughly absorbed by Agnes playing with her little stuffed toys than by whatever was on screen at any given moment. Lizzy probably didn't retain very much of the plot either as she watched him watch their daughter, but the cautious affection in her gaze warmed his soul. He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

He stopped counting nights after that.