He sits in that chair, waiting for her to return, for hours. He watches the sun float across the sky before sinking below the horizon and painting the sky the colour of flames. He watches as the eerie light of dusk gives way to the silver of the moon. His body aches as he stands and walks out the door.
He can't see her from the garden, so he heads towards the shore, toeing of his shoes and socks before hitting the sand. His eyes strain against the darkness, searching for her slim profile. It is the dark mass spotted further down the shore to his left that has Red breaking out into a sprint, blood rushing furiously in his ears as his eyes tunnel in on the lifeless form. The sand is soft causing Red to stagger, a frustrated roar building up in his throat, because she is still so far away. She is so desperately far away and God how long had she been down here like this?
He drops to his knees as he reaches her, skids slightly in the sand, the moisture leaching into his pants. His breath is torn from him as he reaches out, but it's not Lizzie. It's her clothes and a towel. He glances around, the dim light making it difficult to see any signs of a struggle. He spins around, facing the sea and there she is. The silver light of the moon reflected off the eerily still water.
Liz stands facing the horizon, her arms at her side, completely still. Her porcelain skin, so smooth and unblemished, turned silver. He wonders how long she has been out there, when she last moved, what she was thinking when she headed out.
He picks up her towel and strolls towards the water's edge, feeling almost paralysed in his uncertainty. He does not want to leave, but this was unchartered territory, breaching the boundaries they had both so carefully built. He swallows and steps forwards, the cool of the water washing over his toes.
The gentle splash of his movements should make his presence known, yet she does not move to cover herself, she doesn't move at all.
"Lizzie," he whispers, his voice hoarse and betraying the calmness he was hoping for. He unfolds the towel, stands behind her and holds it out, waiting. She turns her head to look back over her shoulder at him, his eyes riveted to hers. They move past his face and glide down his body, his clothes soaking wet and clinging to him. A ghost of a smile passes over her features before she shakes her head and steps back into him and the cover of the towel. He wraps it around her shoulders holding it closed until she reaches up and takes it from him. She turns slowly in his arms, as if she is the one trying to avoid startling him. The length of her body is pressed against his, her chin tilted up to look him in the eyes. She looks so sad, the ever present ache in Red's chest becoming more prominent. He tries to smile at her, reassure her.
The cool of her skin causes a tremor to run through him as she presses her face to his neck. Her breath ghosts along his collarbone in harsh gusts. The choked back sob and the unmistakable warmth of a tear splashing against his skin causes him to turn his head and press a kiss to her temple, his lips lingering as he murmurs,
"Come back to shore, sweetheart. Let's get you dressed."
She nods against him and they slowly wade back to her pile of clothes, but once they reach them and Red removes the hand he had pressed against her back, she makes no move to dress herself. Instead she sits down on the sand, towel still wrapped around her.
He crouches next to her, chuckling slightly as his knees crack and she winces in sympathy. He turns to look at her, but her eyes are only for the ocean and the moon reflected in the depths.
"You once asked me if I was in love with your mother," he starts quietly, judging her reaction. She merely turns to look at him, blinking slowly. "Love is a label, and a very diverse one at that."
He breathes in, reaches over and brushes a lock of hair behind her ear. He was stalling, terrified.
"I loved your mother dearly; Kat and I had a relationship that most people were not able to comprehend." Liz tensed and Raymond struggled to understand why, so he continued, "But I was never in love with your mother, it was... never like that. By the time I became acquainted with her, she had just found out she was pregnant with you."
Her eyes flickered over to him, disbelieving, and Raymond wished it didn't hurt, but he couldn't blame her. Criminals were notorious liars.
"Nine months, in the business your mother and I were in, Lizzie, was an extremely long time."
She smiles at him, and for once he feels as if he may have given her enough, that she wouldn't hound him for further answers. That for now she was satisfied. She stands up, her legs dusted with sand. She looks ethereal, the moonlight and water causing her skin to glisten. Her delicate hand reaches down to him, and he grabs it as if it's a lifeline, or an olive branch, and she tugs him to his feet.
They begin their way back to the villa, guided by the moon, the pile of clothes left behind them. Liz walks two steps ahead of him, yet to speak a word, until they step onto the deck.
"Thank you," she says with a smile, and Red feels warm again for the first time in weeks. He simply nods and guides her to her room, forgoing lighting and instead moving through the darkness. They enter her room, clothing tossed on the floor and bed unmade, and Red resists the urge to roll his eyes. Liz must have noticed his behaviour, because a smirk tugs at her lips. She sits on the bed as he moves to her drawer, pulling out a t-shirt and some soft shorts.
He turns as she dresses; the rustle of fabric incredibly loud in the silence. He hears her pull back the quilt and so he moves back to her side and once she lies down he drags the blanket over her.
"Sleep well, Lizzie," he murmurs, kissing her forehead, before leaving the room.
