Red smacks the side of the vending machine, aggravated. The small orange package wobbles a little but remains firmly wedged between the metal spring and the glass front, despite the five dollars in change Red has spent the last twenty minutes painstakingly inserting.
He just wants a damn Reese's.
(It seems he's not deserving of anything, even candy. He should have known.)
He gives the machine one last half-hearted slap and sighs. There's no point. He turns away, defeated, and slumps into his seat at the corner table in the hospital cafeteria, gazing dejectedly around the room.
He stayed in Lizzie's room all through the night, about nine hours total, eyes wide and taking in the blessed sight of her, denied for so long, and sitting frozen for fear of being noticed.
(Even though she was asleep, he still felt strangely as though he was intruding. Probably because he knew he wouldn't be welcome if she was awake.)
The first rays of sunlight were just beginning to peek through the blinds on her window when she began to stir, her nose crinkling in an adorable sign of wakefulness. Red had watched, entranced, as a small frown creased her brow as she registered the pain no doubt settled in her body. The corner of Red's mouth had raised in a small, wonderous smile, amazed at being privy to such a sight, before he realized what was happening. He froze for a second more before gathering himself and standing quietly, moving soundlessly to the door, and slipping out just as her eyes began to open.
(He felt like a creepy, old man.)
He sent Dembe in to be with her while she was awake and wandered through the halls until he found the cafeteria, where he's sitting now, brooding.
(He's always been good at that.)
Red sighs, running a hand over his short-cropped hair.
He doesn't really know why he's still here. It's enough that Dembe is here for Lizzie to make sure she's alright and doesn't need anything. He's only waiting for Dembe to come find him so they can leave the hospital and go back to the hotel suite, where he can be miserable in private. Here, in the cafeteria, there are other people milling about, prodding at the tasteless hospital food and giving heavy sighs, their loved ones somewhere in the building, being cared for.
Red gazes at them all balefully. At least the people they're here for actually want their company.
(At least they're loved.)
As Red watches, he sees a young man enter the cafeteria and look around, searching for someone. He is tall and dark-haired, looking worried and somber, but still handsome, Red supposes. He wonders idly why he's here.
After a moment, Red sees the man's face light up in recognition and he moves forward, maneuvering around the tables towards the back of the cafeteria. His mouth opens and he calls out to someone and, though Red is too far away to hear what he says, the young woman at the table next to him suddenly turns her head and stands, rushing towards the man. She has a pretty face with long, wavy red hair that billows behind her as she moves.
(She looks nothing like Lizzie.)
Red watches as the two meet and embrace, the woman pushing her face into the man's neck, the man's running up and down her back in a soothing manner.
The woman has a loved one here then.
Red can't seem to tear his eyes away from the couple, feeling a certain sense of self-destruction as he watches. He looks on as the women pulls back from the man to put her hands on either side of his face. They kiss.
Red closes his eyes and looks away.
He doesn't need the fact that he'll be alone forever rubbed in his face like this. Besides, it hurts enough that he can easily imagine Lizzie in the arms of a man like that. He cringes at the thought. He will never be that man. He is too old, too damaged, not fit to touch Lizzie or anyone like her. He is destined to be alone.
(He always knew it.)
Red rubs his hands over his face. That's it, he can't take any more, he doesn't want to be here. There's no reason to. He came to see Lizzie and make sure she'll be all right, and he did and she will, after a little rest. He'll take the car and go back to the hotel. Dembe can call him when he's ready to leave. He can't stay here watching a blatant display of love and affection he hasn't felt in years when he can easily go and suffer in silence. He doesn't blame the young couple, of course, it's no one's fault but his own.
(But it still hurts.)
He gives a final heavy sigh and stands. He has loitered long enough.
It's time to go.
Red walks out of the cafeteria, leaving the couple alone at their table, heads huddled together intimately, and heads for the main exit of the hospital. He moves slowly throughout the corridors, feeling as though one hundred pounds are pressing on his shoulders, weighing him down.
(He's always sympathized with Atlas.)
He drags his feet even more when the automatic sliding glass doors of the entrance come into view, knowing that the minute he walks through them, he'll be leaving Lizzie for the last time. And she'd probably be glad to know it.
(His heart calls to him from her room but he ignores it, knowing he has no right to it anymore. It's no longer his. Besides, Lizzie should have two. She's worth it.)
The sliding doors open for him and he's about to step outside, out where the earth has the audacity to keep spinning despite the fact that he's leaving her, when he suddenly hears his name being called.
"Raymond!"
(He was almost gone. Almost.)
He frowns and turns slowly, exhausted, to see Dembe jogging towards him across the lobby of the hospital.
"Raymond, wait!"
Dembe skids to a halt in front of him, looking decidedly happier than he was a few hours ago.
Hm.
"Dembe, I'm going back to the suite. Stay as long as you like, just call me when you want to leave and I'll –"
"Raymond, no, you cannot leave."
"What are you talking about, of course I can –"
"No."
Red stops talking and stares at Dembe, who is rarely so blunt.
"Elizabeth would like to speak to you."
Red stops breathing for a second, the air stuttering in his chest.
"What – you – she –"
He can't seem to string two words together in his shock. Dembe just smiles kindly at him.
"Come, my brother, she wants to see you."
And Dembe takes his arm and gently pulls him towards the stairs. Red goes along with him in a daze, scarcely believing that he's not asleep and having a lovely but ultimately soul-crushing dream.
(Because what else could this be?)
But then they enter Lizzie's hallway, Dembe tugging him firmly towards her door, and Red remembers their awful fight, the shouting, the tears, the look on her face, and he freezes like a deer, pulling Dembe to a stop.
"But, Dembe, what if –"
(He's so afraid. He can't be broken again. He only had one heart. He has nothing left to give her.)
"It will be all right, Raymond. She just wants to talk. If nothing else, just listen to her. Please."
(And since when is Dembe such a proponent of Lizzie's? If Red didn't know any better, he'd have thought Dembe harbored a little resentment toward her for all the emotional trauma she's unintentionally put Red through over the years. Nothing overt, since Dembe never is, but still there nevertheless. How odd.)
Red tears his gaze away from Dembe and turns to look at Lizzie's door, still hesitant and unsure, and Dembe sighs.
"Raymond, please, trust me. I would not steer you wrong. Either of you."
Red's eyes flit back to Dembe's face to look at his features, relaxed and content, his familiar face doing much to calm him.
He's right, of course.
(Red trusts Dembe with his life. Surely his heart is safe in his hands as well.)
Red nods and pats Dembe on the shoulder, moving forward by himself to put his hand on the handle of Lizzie's door.
(This is it.)
And, feeling strangely as though this is a moment he may or may not come back from alive, he turns the handle.
It looks much like the first time he walked into the room last night to see her asleep, resting, recuperating from her accident. However, this time, she's awake and alert, sitting up in bed, staring fixedly at him as he enters the room. Her blue eyes seem to pierce right through him. He lowers his gaze automatically, feeling strangely shy in her presence, in a way he never has before.
(It makes sense though, he thinks distractedly, feeling her eyes on him, unwavering. She knows everything now. What he feels. All of him. So, of course, he's shy.)
But he makes himself raise his eyes to meet her gaze as he gently shuts her door behind him. He can't hide from her. Not now. Then he stands there looking at her, feeling a little stupid. Dembe said she wanted to talk so why is she just staring? He doesn't understand the look in her eyes. Why won't she –
"Hi, Red."
Oh. Oh, she said his name. Well, his nickname, but it doesn't matter because he never thought he'd hear her speak again, let alone hear let his name pass her beautiful lips so pleasantly and –
"Well, don't just stand there, silly. Come and sit next to me."
Yes, that sounds like the Lizzie he knows. His mouth twitches up in a grin.
(Somewhere in the back of his mind, he's wondering how she can be talking to him like this, after all that happened between them the last time they met. Granted, that was over a month ago now but he knows how that night is still painfully etched in his memory, so surely it must be in hers too? But he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She's talking to him. That in itself is incredible, whatever her motives. So, he'll listen.)
But she's still staring.
Then Lizzie raises her eyebrows in her signature sardonic amusement, as if to ask why the hell he's still standing there. He smiles to himself. Good question, that.
He moves forward slowly, feeling as though he's trying not to startle a wild animal – though he's not completely sure that animal is Lizzie – and settles back in the chair by her bedside.
(He wishes he never left.)
He looks at her cherished face and waits, no expectation, just thankfulness. Dembe said she wanted to talk to him and all he had to do was listen. So, that's what he'll do.
For a long minute, she just stares back at him, her eyes roving slowly over his face, her expression still inscrutable.
"Dembe said you stayed with me last night," she says finally, quietly.
Red simply nods at her. The 'of course' goes unspoken between them.
"Thank you," she murmurs, her blue eyes looking strangely wet. "You didn't have to. It was just a little accident, I'm barely hurt."
Red's eyes flit to her arm, still in a sling, and then to her leg, still suspiciously large under the blankets, before moving back to her face.
"My arm is just a sprain," she says, wiggling it as much as she can to demonstrate. "And there's just a cut on my leg. I mean, it was pretty deep so needed a lot of stitches, but that's the only reason it's wrapped up. The car that t-boned me wasn't going too fast."
Red's gaze darkens at the thought of the car and, more importantly, the driver that did this to Lizzie. It wouldn't be too hard to find them. Just pull traffic camera footage of the crash, Dembe could hack their system easily enough, get the license plate number, and –
"Red."
Red snaps back to the present to see Lizzie looking at him knowingly, her lips pursed in disapproval.
"Don't you even," she says darkly. He widens his eyes, trying to look as though he wasn't just contemplating murder in her name but, by the looks of her, she doesn't buy it for a minute. She rolls her eyes at him. "It was an accident. They weren't even on their phone or anything. Now I can see you thinking about it and I won't let it happen. Do you understand me?"
Red lowers his gaze, feeling slightly guilty at being called out, and sighs in acquiescence.
"Good," she murmurs, happy again. Red looks back up at her, studying her lovely smile, feeling more confused more than ever.
(He's certainly glad she's not crying or yelling or running away but he's not really sure why she's not. Nothing has changed, at least not with his feelings, since they last talked. So why is she acting differently?)
"Red," she starts, a little more serious now. Perhaps she's going to tell him. "I wanted to talk to you about something."
Yes, here it is. He just nods again, afraid but morbidly curious, as always.
(He supposes he's like a cat in that way. Nine lives and all.)
"I asked Dembe to track you down. I was hoping he would manage to catch you before you left. I'm glad he did."
He can do nothing but blink at her in surprise. Glad? What is she talking about?
She sees the confusion creasing his brow and sighs. She looks down to pick at some lint on her hospital blanket before taking a deep breath and looking up at him again.
"Red, do you know where I was going last night, when I got in…my little accident?"
Red frowns. Of course, he doesn't know. Her destination hadn't even crossed his mind when Dembe told him she was hurt. He simply wanted to know if she was all right. Besides, he had made it his business to know nothing of Lizzie's whereabouts after their fight. Why was she asking? What could –
"I was coming to see you."
Oh.
Red's mouth falls open a little, completely shocked. Him? She was coming to see him?
"Dembe called me," she says softly. Red frowns a little at that. He told Dembe not to –
Oh.
That's why Dembe had been so beside himself when she was injured, that's why he knew right away. They were in contact because he was waiting for her to arrive. That's why he was so upset, that's why he was so desperate to get to the hospital. If Lizzie had been seriously hurt, it would have been his fault. That's why Dembe stayed with her for so long today, that's why Dembe –
Oh, Dembe.
"Don't be mad at Dembe, Red, I'm certainly not. He was worried about you. He told me…how you were dealing with things. He asked me if maybe I could find it in myself to come and talk to you."
Red opens his mouth, this time on purpose, about to tell her that if Dembe forced her or guilted her into anything at all, he –
"It's okay, Red," she stops him before he can even get a word out. "Honestly, I was…thinking about coming to see you anyway. I…Well, you gave me plenty of time to think about things, which I'm very grateful for. A month was enough time for me to sort through…everything."
(Had she been counting the days too?)
"And the more I thought about it, the worse I felt about how I left things with you. You told me something…and I know it was very hard for you. And I'm ashamed of how I reacted."
Red starts to shake his head immediately. No, he wants to say, it was he who was out of line, throwing something like that at her the way he did. After all, Tom had just died and she had just found out things, things he had kept from her and –
"Look, I have a whole speech planned, so could you just let me get this out, please?"
Red looks at her for a moment, sitting there, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, stitches on her cheek, gazing at him hopefully.
(He couldn't possibly love her more.)
He nods.
"Thank you," she murmurs. "Well, I was coming to see you…to apologize. I behaved badly because I was overwhelmed by everything you told me and the…last thing you said was just the cherry on top. I hope maybe you can understand that."
She looks down for a moment, letting her words rest in the air around them. Red just sits there trying to absorb them. She's sorry. Lizzie is sorry. It still hurts, of course, it was a huge blow, but her apology goes a long way to making it better.
(He feels better.)
She still has his heart, of course, and he doesn't want it back. He'd rather muddle along without it. And when she invariably asks him to go in a few minutes, apology delivered, he will go quietly, thankfully, grateful that he got closure. It's more than he ever could have asked for and he –
"And there's one more thing."
More? There can't possibly be anything more that she can say that could make him feel more at ease. She can send him away, it's okay, he –
"I thought more about what you said, the…last thing, that is, and I wanted to tell you that…Well, I'm not sure how to say this, actually."
She bites her lip and Red frowns.
"I, uh…I don't know if I can give you what you want, Red. I've thought and thought about what you said, once I was able to, and how you feel about me does make sense. If I wasn't such an idiot, I probably would have seen it before."
(What is happening?)
"But, now that you've told me, I have thought about it, I really have. A lot. And…I think I need some more time. Tom was…both the best and worst part of my life. I loved him. But he wasn't real. And all of that came to light in a relatively short period of time and…now he's dead. And I'm not broken up about it anymore, I've made my peace with things, but I won't be ready for a relationship for a while. Not with anyone."
(What is she saying?)
"But…when I'm ready, who knows? It could happen. What I mean is…well, I know that it's really not fair of me to ask you to wait around but…if I could just have some more time. Not long, really, another few weeks, maybe, and, well…I'd like to get to know you better."
(What?)
"Because I've realized over the past few weeks that I really don't know that much about you. I mean, I know what color eyes you have and what kind of suits you wear and what crazy foods you eat. But I don't know where you grew up or how you like your tea or what side of the bed you like to sleep on. And the more I think about it…the more I think I'd like to. And yet, at the same time, I realized that the only thing I do know about you is that you care about me. You…you love me. And, really, at the end of the day, what else do I need to know?"
Oh.
She gives a quick little shrug of her shoulders, a little quirk of her mouth, like it's fucking obvious, and something clenches in his chest.
Oh, Lizzie.
"Anyway," she mumbles, rolling her eyes in a self-deprecating way and giving an adorable little huff. "What I'm trying to ask is…will you wait for me? And, in a few week's time, when I'm ready…will you go out with me?"
(He can't breathe.)
She looks up when she says the last six words and her sudden, direct gaze pins him to his seat. He is frozen in shock. Not cold shock, like before, not that awful freezing thing. More like a warm, flowing, surprising thing. Surprising but welcome. Completely, definitely, perfectly welcome.
(He can't believe it.)
"Red?" Lizzie asks, chuckling nervously. "Um, you in there? You, uh, haven't said anything since you walked in. Are you…okay?"
Oh, yes, he should talk. He should put her at ease. He shouldn't leave her waiting. That's not fair. He should speak.
(He should tell her that he'll wait forever.)
Red clears his throat, feeling as though he's getting rid of all the sadness and tears and alcohol that have gathered there over the past month. It feels wonderful. But Lizzie is still looking at him expectantly so he blinks a few times, works his jaw, tries to speak past the all the love he has for her.
(It's not easy.)
"Y-Yes," he manages after an unintentionally suspenseful moment. Lizzie lets out a breathy gasp.
"Oh," she half sighs, half laughs. It's a wonderful sound. "Oh, okay, good," she smiles blindingly. "Wait, yes, what? Just to clarify, because I don't want –"
"Yes, to everything," he finally interrupts her in a rush. "Yes, I'll wait, yes, I'll go out with you, yes, yes, yes."
And they're laughing together, giggling desperately, and, oh, all the pain is gone, everything's okay.
(Not everything, of course. She has hurt him and he has scared her and those wounds will take time to heal. But now they have time. That's all that matters.)
And Lizzie tentatively offers her hand to him, palm up on her bedspread, a gentle question.
(He appreciates the choice she is giving him. More than she can know. He is still fragile.)
But he delights in reaching out and watching his fingers close gently around hers. He's allowed to touch her. She wants him to.
(She wants him.)
Yes, everything will be okay. Lizzie can take as much time as she wants and he will wait here for her and he can court her and date her and she will give him a chance –
Yes, everything will be just fine.
Because his heart is here to stay.