I.
She could tell he'd accepted death to be his fate. She was certain because it took him around three seconds, probably four, to realize that his brain was not scattered by the bullet and that someone else had taken it instead. When he faced her, his savior, his unhinged facial expressions gave it all away - he was genuinely shocked to be alive. So surprised, and so wide-eyed; the poor soul.
She'd told him, a couple of evenings prior, that he was most probably unmatched in poker. He didn't disagree but said nothing and instead looked delightfully smug. Then again, he hadn't been kneeling, then, in dire anticipation of death. What a difference two days made…
II.
"Thank you." He was not going to relent, not really. His brows were furrowed close together like they always were when he was trying to scold her. She was not going to make him reconsider, either, because she liked it that way. That divine love of his! It was heavenly to be loved the way he loved her; truly delicious. She'd had a suspicion he might be in love with her and hoped that her gut was not leading her on. But she also loved the all-consuming spice his love had to it. It was odd, almost parental. It excited her in strange ways; sinful ways. "And never do it again."
"But I will. I rarely listen to you. Why start now?" she asked him, in an attempt to lighten the mood. The intensity inside the van was starting to overwhelm her and she found herself crying. It was too overwhelming - Reddington nearly dying, as well as his scolding and the way he smelled. Not to mention the relief of seeing him alive and forever concerned for her safety.
She wasn't lying. She was going to save his life as often as she had to. It devastated her, how little he valued his own life. It made her want to soothe him for once, to explain to him why his life was worth living. Because she needed him, the selfish little girl she sometimes was. No one could ever love her the way he loved her.
To add to her now daily frustrations, she was frightened, the selfish little girl she sometimes was, that his self-disdain would prevent him from giving himself to her fully when they were both ready for it. She didn't need his altruistic ways; not always. She wanted her cake, the selfish little girl she sometimes was, and she wanted to eat it, too.
But his love for her, this divine love, did not come with an on-and-off switch. The complexity of it was going to make it difficult for the both of them to simply be in love with one another in peace.
Liz decided to save those thoughts for more hospitable circumstances. She'd let them torture her later, of course, when her natural instinct to analyze and delve deep would get the better of her. But first, they needed to calm down, both of them, and Elizabeth in particular. Red's numerous close encounters with death had made him more resilient and more durable. He was almost lucky that way. She was not used to Reddington almost dying.
III.
She had closed her eyes in the shower stall, as the water washed off the remains of her cold sweat. She shouldn't have. She should have focused on the bland beige color of her bathroom tiles instead. She thought nothing could be more unsightly than the images that were catching up with her.
She knew that her current train of thought promised nothing but wreckage and when it finally derailed, it would unleash the most gruesome fear. It was a necessary evil. Her closed eyes provided the ideal dark canvas for her memories to manifest themselves in their brightest, most vicious nuances.
She remembered running down the narrow corridor in King's mansion. It was her second jog down that hall. The first time, she'd escorted the beautiful, pale boy she had saved to the exit and told him to run. The second time, she was disobeying Reddington, who'd told her to run. The terror of nearly making it back a second too late made that corridor appear longer and narrower, never-ending. She felt like it was making her slower. She was quick enough, of course, and Reddington's every breath was the most reassuring proof.
She opened her eyes. She had survived the wreckage. But beyond her fear lurked sadness.
IV.
"Lizzy, is everything alright?" His voice was lower than usual and rougher. His speech, while not impaired, was not as perfectly coherent and brilliantly intonated as usual. She had seen him in times when he was less than sober, so she knew, almost immediately, that alcohol had nothing to do with it. Her quick deduction led her to believe he'd been sleeping. Who could blame him? It was four o'clock in the morning. She could blame him. And she did.
"Your last words to me would have been, "You did what you could." If you had died. That would have been the last thing you would've said to me," she said over the phone. Her words were crisp – clear vowels carrying her sadness from her mouth to his ear.
"No, it wouldn't have. It's late, Lizzy. Get some sleep. We can talk in the morn-"
"Well, isn't that a cushy spot to be in!" she exclaimed. "You have the luxury of tomorrow. But you thought you didn't; you said nothing that would've mattered. And you thought you'd never see me again." Her voice broke slightly right at the end of her sentence. She worked hard to remain stable but failed, right at the finishing line. Her hot tears were drenching the pillowcase beneath her head, making the fabric cold and unpleasant.
She knew better than that but felt overwhelmed by sadness anyway. Reddington had wanted her to hurry along and save herself, as well as that charming boy who looked at her as if she'd gone mad when she'd told him to run on his own. There was no time for pleasantries or heartfelt declarations of love.
"You're wrong. Now go to sleep," he ordered and that made her snap.
"Prove me wrong. Right now," Liz challenged quickly; too quickly. She hoped he hadn't gathered how desperate she was for him not to hang up on her.
"Your name was the last thing I said before you came to my rescue. Go to sleep."
He hung up. Really, what more could he have said?
V.
She cried, hard and ugly, for nearly half an hour. She was loved.
Her pillow was flipped. Its other side was cool, but dry. She was loved.
Author's Note: Many thanks to my beta, Meaghan M (Juulna).
