He sighs, lets himself have this dance. One dance. A last indulgence before…he reins the thought back in. He has this moment. Has her in his arms.
The words rise up from below them, weaving around his thoughts,
…take my hand, take my whole life too, 'cause I can't help…
His arms bring her closer and they move about the room.
Xxx
The song comes to an end, the alto voice trailing off into the night. Red's precise movements unwind and they are no longer dancing, rather standing in the middle of the room, his arms around her. Strong. An embrace.
"Lizzie," he starts, the gravity of his voice hovering above her, teetering on longing. "I want you to know…"
The vibration of his chest against her midsection breaks her reverie and her gaze lifts to him, surprised to see his guard down. Surprised by the way he is looking at her, right now, alternating between searching her eyes and taking in every last detail of her…uneasiness begins to creep its way into her thoughts.
He takes a deep breath and continues.
"…there will never be a time when I am not…made aware…of your actions. Your whereabouts. Your movements. Your safety…and happiness…will always be of the utmost importance to me…"
She says nothing, the uneasiness surging into panic. Her emotions acting on their own volition.
"Do you understand? You will never have to fear. My people," he looks down at her, trying to memorize her face, her eyes, her hair, the way she looks at him in this moment, "my people will always be close by. Nothing, nothing, is going to happen to you."
She hears the words but fails to understand. Will not let herself understand.
"Red. What? Are you leaving?" The question automatic.
He nods. Somber and quick.
"For how long?" The three weeks after Anslo were torture. She's grateful that he hasn't disappeared like that again. She shivers at the memory.
He just looks at her, doesn't answer her question, but she can see it. Can see the answer in his eyes, and the pain, searing and hot, cuts through her.
The tears roll freely now. She doesn't lift a hand to stop them as they roll down her face.
"Is this…what?" Her words barely held together. "Goodbye?"
A glimmer of sadness overtakes his stoic countenance. Gone before it landed.
"Yes Lizzie." She can't read him. "The time has come."
The bottom drops out. Panic and nausea. She can't lose someone else. Not after everything else. Everyone else.
"I don't understand. Why? We're almost done." By her count there were less than a handful of names left on the list.
He says nothing, shakes his head. His gaze still locked on her. Gauging her reaction.
"Is it because of me, because of the deal with the FBI?" Her eyes pleading.
He grimaces internally, his Lizzie, always placing the blame on herself. Even in situation where she has, where she had, no control.
"Yes." The word final.
She grasps at straws. Knows that the attempts are futile, but she has to do something. Some action. "I know I may have been too harsh…"
"No. No. Anything you could say, could imagine, I deserved." A sardonic smile plays on his lips. A memory, she guesses. He shakes his head, looking down briefly and then raising his head back up. Seems to square himself to her. Suddenly serious. Their words, their movements, the only sounds in the room. The lights low now. The party ended.
"I love you," the aching sincerity in his voice at contrast with the simple words. Adrenaline, sharp and electric, charges through his body as the words escape, no longer his secret. To himself. To her.
"What?" Her face bewildered, the tears still falling, but slower now.
"I love you." The adrenaline settles and his limbs feel heavy.
"Red, you care about me." The inflection at the end of the sentence rising before settling down. She has never questioned his concern for her. "You need me." She visibly relaxes. A logical explanation for this, for this…inexplicable turn of events. His admission.
"No Lizzie." He pauses, the hands on her shoulders forcing her to look at him. "I love you," the sadness in his eyes now edged by something else, an apology? "The way…the way a man loves a women. In ways an man like me has no right to…"
She cuts him off abruptly, "I don't understand, " it's too much. This information. It's pushing and crashing and forcing itself in...something inside of her swelling and burning. The part she diligently protects. Hides. Light seeping in.
"Neither do I," his words the truth. "But I do…" the ghost of a smile flitting across his lips, "God knows I do."
The look he gives her holds so much tenderness she's afraid she'll break. Just shatter right there on the floor. Millions of shards scattered about on the carpet.
"And they can see it." His words are careful, final.
"Who?" It's all she can muster. Her words lost.
"All of them." His arm leaves her shoulder and sweeps through the air. "Anslo. Tom. Anyone who," his words stumble a bit, "knew me before…"the words coming out in a rush, "before you."
He waits, letting it sink in. Smiles at her, the expression real now, reaching his eyes. For all the loss of the future, having this time, letting her know, the moment is golden.
"I am a wanted man Lizzie. By so many I've stopped keeping count. I can fend for myself. Fight, run, disappear. But someday all of this," he gestures to himself, the room, "will catch up with me. I am resigned to that. It's…inevitable. But I can't have them get to you. Take you, hurt you in any way, to get to me. I…I care about you, love you, too much for that." His voice quiets and stills. His whisper raw.
"But I…" she stammers, not sure what to say.
He backs away. Reaches a point several paces away before continuing. His tone softer now, less conflicted.
"You must know that I didn't intend for this to happen. Never imagined that it would, that it could. You might say it snuck up on me…a little bit at a time." He looks at her, his thoughts faraway and present, remembering. "Some days faster than others, but a little bit, every single day. Until it was…too late to recover. I didn't want to recover. Loving you has been…" he pauses searching for the right word, "magical."
"Has been? What…? But I…" She stammers.
Through her tears she can see him struggle with himself. The part that needs her seems to win and she feels his arms envelop her again. She inhales the scent of him. Leather, and wood, and something…reckless.
"Shh, Lizzie. Shh…" the hand behind her back running up and down her spine. Comforting. Reaching.
"I am an old man Lizzie. You thought I was your father after all." He pulls back a bit and she sees him smile, reassuring her before continuing. "A man with dreams," a smirk, apologetic, "fantasies even. But as real as my feelings are…and they are that" he inhales, "that's all they can be. Or they will hurt you. Ruin you."
"Red, no." It all makes sense. All the pieces. All the moments, the glances, the late night calls. And she realizes that it was there, had been there, for a long time. And now he was leaving. No, her heart lurches, she couldn't accept that.
When she looks up she sees that his eyes are wet. A single tear lets go and falls down his smooth cheek. She reaches up to brush it away. Leaves her hand on his face. Her palm warm on his cool skin.
He feels her skin on his and…he's coming apart. He shouldn't have touched her again. Held her. And now she's touching him. Her eyes so kind.
He moves his hand over hers, covering her fingers that touch his face, inhales, and then pulls her hand away.
His breath catching when she turns his hand over and brings it to her lips.
"No." She says again. The singular word threatening to break him. This moment having played out in his fantasies. In his wants and desires and dreams of things that cannot be. Lizzie approaching him. That he would matter to her.
She turns his hand over. He doesn't struggle. Unable to move. And presses her lips to his palm.
"No." She repeats herself. The tears having stopped and the look on her face changing from sadness into something…powerful.
Then, using the hand behind his neck she pulls him forward, down to her. And she presses her lips to his. Sweetly, softly, all of the words left unsaid.
"It's not just you," she says.
Xxx
And he breaks. The contact. The blurring of lines. Too much.
Taking her hand he pulls her down the hall, into the elevator. Through a door. Into a darkened room.
He kicks the door closed with his foot. The sounds from the hallway stopping abruptly. His eyes adjusting to the darkness of the suite.
Looks down into her eyes and puts his hands on each side of her face. Caresses her cheeks, the back of her neck. She is so beautiful.
Lets go and leans down, presses his lips, his mouth, his everything to hers. Indulgent. Lost.
His hands still on her face and he backs her up with his body. One foot in front of the other. Stops when they reach the far wall. Closes any distance between them and deepens the kiss. Places one hand on each side of her, the grass-cloth wallpaper rough under his palms, and…he is coming unglued. Won't be able to stop this soon.
She moans. The sound coming from her mouth of its own volition. And that's all it takes. His restraint in shambles.
Gathering her in his arms he carries her to the bed. Drops her down, limbs sprawled, and stands up to see her. Take her in. Her dress, her lips...
And, dear lord, he's going to let himself have this night…is going to let it all burn down before it goes black…and lowers himself to her.
Xxx
One more chapter? What do you think? Comments very much appreciated :)