The road trip back east after investigating Verdiant Industries was hardly as pleasant as the trip west had been, not the least because Red and Lizzy were responsible for all the driving themselves, with nothing more diverting than sound of their own voices or a wonky car radio to keep their demons at bay. It was a far cry from the eighteen-odd hours they'd spent together in that shipping container on the way to Iowa, which had been…
Well.
It had been a moment out of time, hadn't it?
They were about twenty minutes from pulling off the highway and trying to find a private, hidden place to take turns napping when they stumbled across a trendy little tourist trap in Middle of Nowhere, Ohio. It was some sort of a cross between a bed and breakfast and a motel—very industrial-looking, furnished with decor that had been purposely worn and distressed. The place would've almost been charming if it weren't so… artificial. Still, it was a hell of a lot more inviting than spending the night in the car.
Truth be told, the car might've been a safer prospect in the long run; the more people they interacted with, the higher the risk of being recognized. But it was late, they were both exhausted and they could certainly pass for a pair of bedraggled, beleaguered travelers, if only until they both got a few precious hours of sleep.
Red hesitated a moment with his hand on the door handle, the faux-aged metal standing out all the more under the jarring cold glow of the LED bulbs in the quirky, mismatched light fixtures flanking the entrance. He exchanged a quick glance with Lizzy; she gave him a weak smile and a small nod in return. He pulled open the door.
"Brother, you are a sight for sore eyes, let me tell you," Red exclaimed, as he stepped up to the front desk. His enthusiasm was part subterfuge, designed to distract and disarm the poor employee assigned to man the desk during the thankless night shift, and part authentic gratitude. Lizzy's mood had faded as fast as the setting sun while they drove and Red couldn't help but worry that his reassurances alone wouldn't be enough to stave off a panic attack, or worse.
He knew that when her mind drifted, it often wandered to the fate of the man she shot in the bar, to the hatred of her country bearing down on her, to her ex-colleagues who seemed more than willing to throw out years worth of trust in the face of her alleged crimes.
Even the brief semblance of normality that sleeping in a real bed could bring might do her a world of good. Faced with an opportunity to offer her such a simple comfort, how could Red pass it up?
He was discovering that a great many things were worth the risk with Lizzy's company.
"Kenneth, look, they have a gift shop!" Lizzy said, slipping into her role like it was a comfortable old sweater despite her exhaustion. She wandered over to the french doors that separated the gift shop from the lobby and frowned at the small placard stuck to one of the glass panes. "Oh no, it closed at nine."
"I can open it up for you two, if you'd like," offered the man behind the desk.
Red squinted down at his name tag. "That's very kind of you, Michael, but it's really not necessary. We don't want to put you out more than we already are."
"Don't worry about it."
Michael unlocked the doors and pushed them open, flicking the light switch and gesturing for Lizzy to explore to her heart's content. She shot him a brilliant smile—dimples out in full force—and thanked him. Some of the guilt and self-doubt had left her eyes, even behind the mask she wore for the other man's benefit. A hint of her usual spark was there, the thrill of the game refreshing her; Red had to shake himself to stay focused on the matter at hand.
"Please tell me you have a vacancy," Red begged Michael as he made his way back to the desk, laying it on thick.
"Sure do. What kind of room're you looking for?"
"Hell, after the day we've had, I think we deserve to splurge a little. What do you say, sweetheart?" Lizzy looked up from a display of tourist brochures to smile and nod her assent. Red turned his attention back to the front desk and said, "All right, Michael, you heard the lady. Give us the best you've got."
Michael typed away at his keyboard. "So what brings you folks out here in the middle of the night?"
"Hmm? Oh. We were supposed to have a three hour layover in… God, where was it? I don't even remember anymore." Red heaved a long-suffering sigh and launched into a convoluted tale of woe and misfortune and airline computer glitches, with Lizzy interjecting her own little embellishments here and there.
They painted a picture of partnership that could weather any storm, no matter how absurd. The story they spun began to feel startlingly real, as real as the ease with which they improvised it. It was a marvel, really, how smoothly their relationship could shift, how easily they could adapt to whatever they needed to be for each new situation. For each other.
Through it all, Red could feel the devil on his shoulder poking and prodding at his conscience, taunting him for finding any enjoyment at all in their current predicament.
It's only temporary, it argued. None of it is real.
Red pushed his doubts aside, buried them hastily beneath layers of practicality and necessity. Their arrangement might be temporary, but temporary wasn't synonymous with false. His guilt and regret could wait for another day, once Lizzy was safe and free.
"Anyway, we foolishly thought we'd make it if we just kept driving through the night, but we've seen the error of our ways. You never realize just how damn big this country is until you try to drive across it." Red shrugged his shoulders and smiled self-deprecatingly. "Hey, that's what we get for trying to be spontaneous."
Michael slid the receipt across the desk and handed Red a pen.
"You're a lucky man," he said sotto voce. At Red's furrowed brow, he nodded surreptitiously towards Lizzy, who was still perusing the shelves in the gift shop. "You should see how she looks at you when you're not watching."
Red chewed on the inside of lip, quickly losing a battle with his better instincts. "How does she look at me?" he asked.
"Oh, come on, that smile of hers? You gotta know she's totally enamored of you."
"You think?"
Michael chuckled. "Trust me, man. I've got eyes."
Soon enough, Lizzy walked over to join Red at the front desk carrying a pair of matching souvenir mugs. She leaned on the counter and hooked her arm around his elbow. Casually, like she did it every day. The utter domesticity of it cut Red to the quick.
She had smiled more freely around him since they'd been together, touched him more freely. Even without the excuse of a cover identity. That had to be a good thing, right? The number of times she'd touched him that day alone would've been unheard of a year ago. Hell, it would've been unheard of a month ago.
He could so easily see the two of them sitting in a breakfast nook somewhere, sharing a pot of coffee with her new mugs, reading the morning paper, and—if it was her turn to make breakfast—slightly overcooked eggs and bacon.
Maybe his silly daydream would happen one of these days, or at least something like it. Red couldn't tell if it would make everything easier or harder in the long run if it did.