Author's Note: Fluff, edited by Meaghan M (Juulna).

His sleep had been so deep and satisfyingly dreamless, he was resolved to inflict infinite amounts of pain upon whoever was on the other side of that damned front door. It was going to be a vengeance so sweet that his insensitive victim was going to beg him for the blessed release of a quick bullet in the head. It would be glorious, so glorious.

Once he reached the foyer, he swung the offensive barrier open and was shocked when it revealed Elizabeth's face – smug, victorious.

"This better be good," he grumbled and made his way back inside the house without looking back, trusting she'd follow.

"What, my visit isn't the highlight of your day?" she asked as she walked with him to the expansive kitchen of his latest safe-house.

"No, it most certainly isn't, Elizabeth. Because it is two o'clock in the morning," his voice remained rough. She could get used to that. "What's going on, Lizzie?" he asked.

"You do realize you've called me in the middle of the night on more occasions than I care to count, right?" she tried.

Pathetically, she'd become so accustomed to his constant presence whilst on the run, being without him didn't feel organic anymore. They'd had to share a bed seven times. She kept count. More often than not, she wished his scent could penetrate the fibers of her pillow. She wanted her mind to be lulled to sleep by the smell of him. He didn't know that she was aware of the instances when his loving fingers stroked her hair when he thought she was engulfed by deep sleep. But she knew. His sweet love kept her heart warm and her core wet. He would keep his large palm on her back because it made her doze off within seconds. It was as if his hand were encouraging her to believe she deserved a good sleep, every once in awhile. All of that had been hers and nobody else's. She was there to collect what belonged to her. Simple as that. And she could tell him the truth. He'd understand. He'd gloat, then understand.

"I don't know how to go to sleep without you anymore and I feel dumb and vulnerable right now," she admitted and braced her naked elbows on the marble countertop in the impeccable kitchen they were in. That made him smile. It caused his eyebrows to form those delightful fine lines on his aging forehead.

He gave her water. Asked if she'd eaten. He didn't approve of the Big Mac she'd admitted to having devoured an hour earlier but wanted to know if it was any good anyway. He informed her she smelled of happiness and peonies. Nothing had changed. She had him still. What they had was there to stay.

"Come on, let's go to bed," he grabbed her right hand, not waiting for her answer.

"You're not going to be a decent man and offer me a separate bedroom?" She laughed behind him and grabbed his forearm with her left hand.

"Don't push it, Elizabeth," he warned, grump that he was.

She didn't bother asking if her lying on his stomach would cause him any discomfort. His fingers were hard at work, calming the nerves of her scalp.

"We should make love one of these days, Raymond," she announced and continued to draw patterns on his chest. "I mean it," she prompted and kissed his naked stomach. She'd insisted his T-shirt would prevent the exchange of natural body heat; what was he to do in such dire circumstances?

"Goodnight, Lizzie."

Sleep was there to reel her in.

She didn't struggle.