I am having such fun writing this one! Sorry for all the cliffhangers (ok, sorry, not sorry, lol). My muse for this one was the lovely and uplifting "Between the Raindrops" by Lifehouse and Natasha Bedingfield. I just feel like that song has so much promise, but it also speaks of a shared past that is full of heartache...just like this story :) Enjoy!
Trembling, he takes a breath. He hates himself, but he has to do this. His own words repeat themselves back to him in his head, I believe I will always do whatever I think is necessary to keep you safe. This is not safe. This is not protecting her.
He lifts his chin, his jaw working back and forth as he tries to summon the courage to voice the words lacerating his throat, every syllable a shard of glass drawing blood.
His heart breaking with every word, he offers her an out, "It was a mistake."
Lizzie answers him immediately, vehemently, and suddenly she can breathe again, the force of her response driving her body forward a step, "It wasn't a mistake."
His relief is like a blow to the chest, "It wasn't a mistake," he repeats, his words carrying him across the carpet to enfold her in his fervant embrace.
She feels his arms close around her and something inside her breaks wide open, a sob tearing loose from her lungs. She sags in his arms, sobs wracking her shoulders and he lowers them both to the floor against the protest of his burning ribs, whispering his "I love you's" into her hair over and over again.
"Oh, god!" she moans, tears streaming hotly onto his neck, "I thought…..we were….I thought….."
"Shhhh," he is murmuring to her. "I know."
They sit like that for a long time, Red stroking calming circles along her back and kissing the crown of her head, taking his own solace by breathing in the citrus scent of her hair, until her tears abate and she quiets in his arms.
She takes a shuddering breath and pulls herself back from his embrace, his arms slackening on her as she raises her eyes to his, "I do love you," she says with feeling, "I meant that." Her eyes pin him; she needs him to understand the depth of her emotion. "It wasn't just the moment."
He crushes her to his chest again. "I love you, Lizzie," he tells her finally, the words desperately escaping his grasp.
And then Red's mouth is on hers and she is opening for him, meeting every thrust of his tongue with her own, desire fiercely battling with tenderness.
Breathless, they break apart, eyes meeting in a moment of shared acceptance.
"I won't give you up," she tells him forcefully.
Relieved, he exhales the breath he was holding.
"Thank god!" he laughs, hands going to her face, cupping her cheek, fingers tracing over her lips, her jaw. He rests his forehead on hers, eyes closed, gratitude pouring off his body in waves. He didn't know how he would have responded if she had told him that it had all been a mistake, if she had agreed, if she had walked out his door.
He crushes her to him again, murmuring her name, "Lizzie…..oh, my Lizzie!" for she is his now.
"Red?" she asks tentatively. "Will you take me to bed?"
He lets out a bark of a laugh, "I would love to do nothing more than do exactly that, but I think you'll have to take me to bed as I don't think I can get up off this floor".
She smiles up at him and rises gracefully to her feet. She bends at the waist, reaching down for him, wrapping her arms gingerly around his middle. With a grunt of pain, he heaves himself up from the floor with her assistance. He leans heavily on her, a pained expression on his face.
"Oh, Red," she squeaks, at the contortion of his features. "Come on, love, let's get you to bed. You should rest." Lizzie continues to berate him about the folly of refusing to go to the hospital all the way into the bedroom.
"Where is your bag?" she demands once she has helped him lower himself onto the bed. He is panting, his pain obvious on his face.
"Closet," he nods in the direction of the wardrobe.
She is gone only a minute for her search, returning with the bag in hand and dropping it onto the bed next to him. "I'll get you some water; you need to take some pain meds, Red, please."
"I don't want to be fuzzy tonight. I want to be aware for this. I want to spend my time with you and I'd like to be awake to do it!" he insists.
"We have time now; it's making me wince to think about how sore your chest must be. Please," she tells him firmly over her shoulder as she heads into the suite's kitchenette for a bottle of water.
Red searches through the bag while she is gone and finds something suitable, but not too strong. If this were any other night, if he were alone, he would down a bottle of scotch to numb the pain and take something to knock him out and forget all about the searing pain knifing a ribbon of fire through his chest.
Lizzie returns with a handful of ice wrapped in a towel and the water. She stands over him as he downs the pills and helps him lie down, shifting pillows around him until he is comfortable. She removes his shoes and unbuttons his vest, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before lying down next to him and curling into his side, careful not to jostle him. She wants to rest her head on his shoulder, but thinks better of it and rests her hand on his bicep instead.
"What will we do now?" she asks the question they are both thinking.
"Well…..I can think of a few things I'd like to do….." he trails off suggestively.
"Red!" she pushes his arm playfully. "I mean about the FBI," she looks at him seriously.
"What do you want to tell them?" he asks carefully, letting her take the lead on this decision.
"Nothing!" Lizzie exclaims. She toys with the fabric of his shirt for a moment, thinking. "They've taken so much already…..I don't want them to have this, too. If we tell them, they're going to split us up and you don't work with anyone else. That would mean voiding your immunity agreement and then I'm afraid they really would take you away from me for good. At the very least, they wouldn't trust me anymore."
Red sighs, wishing he could make this easier for her.
"We could leave," he says simply.
She looks up at him, surprised. "Leave? Like, just walk away from everything? Quit my job and just…..leave?" He cannot tell if she is angry with him for the suggestion or if she is simply grappling with the possibility.
She is quiet for a moment. "We could leave," she whispers. Her eyes dart to meet him, a small smile on her lips.
"Yes," he echoes quietly, "We could leave."
They sit with the thought, a plan beginning to take shape in their minds.
"We could travel," he tells her carefully, planting ideas like seeds, "See the world, sail…..eat the most incredible food in the most amazing locations…...make love in every country on the globe," he continues suggestively, bending his head and catching her earlobe between his teeth.
She smiles at his playful suggestions and gasps when he gently tugs on the tender flesh of her lobe.
"We still have so much to do," she reasons, her tone just a bit regretful. "We haven't completed the Blacklist. And I do love my job." She pauses and then smiles mischievously up at him, "It's a good backup plan anyway."
Red smiles down at her, all his love for her shining in his eyes. She is considering his proposal, at least. It's a beginning.
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They stay up talking, making exotic, imaginative plans for their life away from the FBI. The fantastic, improbable ideas are refreshing to think about after the harrowing adventure of the last few hours. Both are grateful for the opportunity to make plans at all, even unlikely plans, after coming so close to losing each other. It is soothing and Red secretly files all her suggestions away, knowing that he could make every one of them come true for her if she only said the word.
Finally, Lizzie can no longer keep her eyes open and slips into sleep in the middle of explaining her ideas for a house in the jungle that had no walls and pet monkeys that would come and go as they pleased. Red switches off the bedside light, rolling her into his arms. He pauses before closing his eyes to thank the universe again for their rescue, for her love, for this second chance. He has never been as content as he is in this moment.
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She is back in the dungeon cell but the moonlight is gone. She reaches out in the darkness, searching for him with her hands, but she can only feel the cold, rough concrete scratching her palms. "Red?" she begs in the darkness. Where is he? She is scrambling for him on all fours, desperately seeking him.
The shouting starts again, and the smoke, and then they are there, hands clamping down on her arms, wresting her from the cell. But it isn't her friends this time. This isn't a rescue. No one is coming to sae them now.
They drag her down the hall, shadowy figures that move like ghosts. She is screaming for Red, but they don't answer her; pushing her forward harshly. She stumbles into walls, scraping her hands on the sharp stone, but still they urge her on, up the stairs now, shoving her from behind, heedless of her cries.
She bursts through the door at the top of the stairs, as before, but now she isn't outside, she's in a round room of stone and there is no light, no salvation here. The walls are coated in blood, the bright coppery stench all around here.
And then he is, in front of her on his knees, eyes pleading with her. She lunges for him, but steely arms grasp her around her waist, halting her progress. His hands are bound behind him and tears stream down his face. She is screaming for him, wailing in the arms of her captor; she must reach him, touch him one more time. She has to save him…
One of the ghosts materializes behind Red, his hands levelling a pistol at his head. She fights harder now, clawing at the arms holding her, her throat raw with her screams. The shadowy finger is already squeezing the trigger. She gives one last impassioned lurch and the arms release her, letting her stumble forward to him. She is nearly there. She is reaching out. She can almost touch him. She hears the shot.
She wakes with a scream, her upper body lunging off the bed. She is gasping, desperately trying to drag air into her lungs. Red wakes immediately at her movement. He lifts his upper body painfully up off the bed, arms coming around her to still her trembling. His back and chest are screaming with the effort, but he hides his pain in the dark and wraps his arms around her, leaning his upper body into hers for support as he rocks her back and forth.
"It's alright, shhhh…..darling, it's ok….you're ok, we're alright," he soothes her
She is gasping, her chest heaving against his shoulder.
He coos to her, "It's alright, Lizzie, it was only a dream."
"Red!" she cries out, reassuring herself that he is really there, still with her, still alive. "They were….we were back there," she is sobbing. "I couldn't reach you…...and they were…...they were…"she is beginning to hyperventilate.
"Lizzie," Red repeats her name, more firmly, to get her attention. "Sweetheart, you've got to breathe," he instructs, demonstrating by taking deep breaths himself. "Just breathe, Lizzie, come on sweetheart, breathe for me."
She begins to slow her breathing, following the even rise and fall of his chest against hers until her sobs subside again.
He presses a fierce kiss to her temple. "That's my girl," he soothes.
"How about a shower?" Red suggests, smoothing her hair away from her face. "That might make you feel better." He checks the bedside clock; four 'o'clock AM. They have been asleep for just over two hours. "You'll still have time to sleep for a bit before we go to meet Agent Ressler."
She nods, "Come with me?"
"Of course," he smiles.
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Under the bright lights of the spacious bathroom, she realizes her mistake.
"You can't get those bandages wet."
Red grins at her, "How about a sponge bath?"
Lizzie fills the tub with hot water and bubbles until it is waist high while Red strips off his clothes, leaving them in a pile in the corner. She watches him from beneath her lashes. It isn't a sexual moment, it is a practical one, but she can't help the flutters of desire that flicker through her.
He steps closer to her, hands at her waist. He peels her tank top over her head, tossing it behind him. His eyes are hooded, darkening with desire, captivated by her lips as they part imperceptibly when his fingertips come to rest on the hem of her pants. He has already had her, yes, but he hasn't seen her naked and she is suddenly shy. With effort, he drops to the floor, exposing the creamy expanse of her legs in one swift motion. Kneeling bent over like this is excruciating, but he cannot resist uncovering her for this, the first time he will really see her bare. She places her hands on his shoulders for stability as he drags her leggings over her feet, one at a time.
She feels the ridged flesh beneath her hands. She has known for a long time now about the scars and the truth about the fire, but this is the first time she has seen them, felt them. He stills below her, tensing; on his knees he lays a hand gently on the back of her calf for balance. Lizzie caresses Red's shoulders, gently smoothing her hands over him until she feels him relax.
"It's ok," she whispers, reassuring him. "I love you."
He raises his head then, looking deeply into her eyes, letting his gaze speak all the words that her touch means to him.
She tugs him up and helps him lower himself into the bath, the water sloshing just below the edges of the gauze wrapping his chest. She pulls the rest of her own clothing off and slides into the water behind him, settling him back against her.
She bathes him, washing away the last remnants of the terrible day from them both, careful to keep his bandages dry in the shallow water. Long after they are clean, Lizzie continues to slide her hands over his skin, reassuring herself that he is here with her, and whole. Eventually, her caresses begin to arouse Red and he stills her wandering hands.
"Mmmm, darling, you're going to have to stop that or you're going to start something we can't finish here."
She nuzzles the back of his neck. "Then take me back to bed," she offers suggestively.