Chapter Eleven: These Whispered Secrets of the Morning

There are these things she asks him in the early hours of the morning. She asks him questions, mostly personal and deep, as she rests her head against his chest and as he plays his fingers up her shoulder and into her hair.

He doesn't know why Elizabeth asks him questions like this, and for the life of him, he can't figure out why he always answers.

"What are you most afraid of, Carlton?"

It's whispered words near his ear, and he sighs at this feeling that envelops him; he's learning to live for this closeness, this warmth, this contentment.

He can feel her breathing with him as he examines the question from all angles. Several different options cross his mind. He's afraid of death, but not more so than anyone else. In fact, perhaps even less so – it's practically a job requirement that everyone in law enforcement must get used to the idea of death...

...And he's definitely afraid of being alone for the rest of his life, but again, the time after Victoria and before Elizabeth had taught him how to cope with this particular fear.

In the end, it's his most simple and basic fear that wins out.

"The dark," he answers quietly.

She shifts slightly; he can feel her every movement in bed. "No, seriously."

He frowns and turns his head slightly to look at her. "I am serious. The dark."

"Come on, Carlton, you can't expect me to believe that you, of all people, are afraid of -"

"Not normal dark," he interrupts defensively. "I have no problem sleeping at night in the dark, when it's all gray and you can see the shadows of everything."

"So you don't need a night-light?" she teases, and he might be annoyed if she weren't rubbing comforting lines down his chest and stomach, soothing him into calm.

Carlton continues his explanation. "I just hate that first moment when I turn off the last light, the few seconds before my eyes adjust. I hate that pitch black where I can't see even a foot in front of me...I mean, how in the hell am I supposed to protect myself from things I can't see?"

"Oh," she says. "I get what you mean now."

"Yeah."

There's a moment of comfortable silence in which her toes skim against his foot. It makes him smile and he closes his eyes. "What about you? What are you most afraid of?"

She pulls herself even closer to him, snuggles against his side. The whisper reaches his ears and his heart almost stops.

"Losing someone I love."

His muscles tighten automatically, an anxiousness he can't quite qualify simmering beneath the surface of his skin. "If that's your biggest fear...you sure picked a guy with a helluva job." he says. He isn't sure if he wants it to be a joke or not.

"Yeah. I know." she sighs.

And before he can stop himself, he's pulling away from her touch and sitting up in bed. Every part of him is tense and the warmth he had previously felt is now gone. His fingers clutch tightly at the bedsheets.

"Carlton...what's wrong? What did I say?" Elizabeth asks, sitting up beside him. Her hand goes to his shoulder, and he feels bad when he shrugs her off, but he can't handle it right now.

It isn't what she said so much as his own realization that rips at his heart. He wants her, more than anything else, to be happy. How can she be happy when she will be forced to worry constantly about his safety? He will never be able to offer her the reassurance that nothing will ever happen to him. He can't give that to anyone. How can they keep this up only for it to end, with her, worried and crying and saying that she can't do it anymore? That she can't be the girlfriend, or God forbid, wife, of a cop anymore?

It's one of the few times that having his job has made him so...sad.

The words are difficult to get out, but he has to say this before it's too late. "Liz, I don't want you to always be worried about me, and I can't ever promise that I'll come home safely."

"I know you can't..."

"So you shouldn't have to live with that..." The next words break him, but he knows that they need to be said. "It's not too late to...end it...before..."

There's a thick silence, until:

"You are so stupid!" Elizabeth bursts out.

"Excuse me?" he defends. "I was trying to give you a way out!"

"And that's why you're stupid," she replies, rolling her eyes at him. "I didn't mean that I wanted out, Carlton. I've known that I've had this fear for forever, and I've always known that you have a dangerous job. Yes, it scares me. But if there is one thing in this world that I don't want, it's a way out."

"You shouldn't have to be scared. Dammit, it kills me, but I want you to be happy."

"Well, I'm in love with you. I'm not leaving, I don't want to, and you can still have what you want. Because I am happy – with you."

"But -"

She sighs and places a hand on his shoulder again; this time he doesn't shy away from her. "It wouldn't matter what job you have, Carlton. People die every day. Car accidents, sickness, or being struck by damn lightning. I would always worry. But it doesn't matter now. I love you, and I'm not going to let a little fear get in the way of us."

He exhales slowly, trying to release the tension from his body. "Are you sure?" he ask, because he has to. He just does.

She smiles. "I'm absolutely sure. I am not looking for a way out, and I hope you aren't, either."

"I'm not!" he says, shocked and horrified by the implication. "I love you!"

She laughs slightly. "Well, I should hope so by now. I love you, too...and I'm not going anywhere."

Looking back into her eyes, he can't help but feel overwhelmed by her. He doesn't know how she always says the right thing, always calms him down, always reassures him every time he dares to think that this perfect dream has been too good to be true. He can't help himself; he pulls her into a kiss, deep and desperate. Her lips press hard against his, and she giggles slightly as he pushes her gently back down against the bed.

He can't get enough of her, not now, not ever. He kisses her neck and cheek and collarbone, and her hands around his neck are his reassurance.

He can't predict the future, and he doesn't want to try.

Because for this morning, at the very least, right now is enough.

A/N: Okay, so a couple points about this one. First off, Lassiter's fear of pitch black dark is actually my own fear. Not only that, I think it fits him really well, because it is both literal (people attacking the detective when he can't see) and figurative (events beyond his control that he doesn't see coming). Secondly, I have mixed feelings about Lassiter freaking out and trying to push her away. I'm not sure if he'd be so direct about it, but I'm going to say this is something he's learned in the new relationship – that he just needs to say whatever needs to be said to get it out there. And lastly, I've come to the conclusion that I am indeed in love with the idea of being in love...