Work Text:
The stars twinkle brightly in the sky above her while the tense silence of the slumbering city presses hard against her eardrums. The deserted street is illuminated by lamps and the lights of his restaurant, the only nearby business still open at this hour. There's just enough light to see by as she stalks down the sidewalk, following a familiar fedora-clad figure, the cheerful string lights on the restaurant mocking her silently as she moves, dread growing like a black hole inside her with each and every step.
Liz feels sick.
The gun in her hand feels like a lead weight, holding Liz's hand heavy at her side, unable and unwilling to rise even as they approach the corner where she's supposed to act, raise her hand and pull the trigger like it's nothing -
And she can tell by Red's posture that he hears her behind him, the tightening in the broad line of his shoulders giving him away and, before she can take a breath or prepare herself or panic, he's whipping unexpectedly around to face her. Apparently he's unable to take the tension any longer as his well-honed survival instincts urge him to face the danger head-on, and Liz's useless arm fights hard against gravity in response to bring her gun up to point at him, trying hard to abide by the plan. But now he's staring right at her and she's frozen with her feet stuck to the ground and this is so much worse than she ever could have imagined -
Because now she can see him, the way he's gritting his teeth and working to keep his face in an expression of calm acceptance, but his eyes - his eyes - are telling the real story because he can't hide from Liz. His face is as familiar to her as the back of her hand, and she can see the truth, the hidden emotion shining out from his grey eyes that he's trying so desperately to mask from her -
(Because as prepared as he is…and try as he might…Liz can see that Red is scared.)
And the plain fear in his eyes is the final straw for Liz and tears are suddenly blurring her precious view of him as he stands bravely in front of her, willing to sacrifice himself for her and her daughter for the millionth time, ready to leave this earth by her hand, looking at her with a smile on his face and her name on his lips and oh -
(No.)
"I can't do it," she croaks, her cracked lips parting to release the words she has always known are true, and the smothered relief she sees in his eyes is proof enough that she's doing the right thing.
"That's alright," he murmurs back, his voice reaching out to her in the night, earnest and soothing, trying to comfort her even now, despite everything, and she suddenly wants nothing more than to be wrapped up in his arms.
"I don't want to," she whispers, knowing her voice will crack horribly if she tries to speak any louder, the tears already clogging her throat painfully as her arm slowly starts to sag, falling back to her side under the weight of the realization hitting her now.
"I understand," he whispers back, a smile ghosting over his lips as he stares adoringly at her and Liz thinks deliriously that she's never, ever done anything in her life to deserve his undying love and affection for her, but she's so tired of pushing him away, all because of secrets so long dead and gone that they just don't matter anymore.
And with the gun she was never going to use now hanging pointlessly at her side, Liz lets the tears fall and opens her mouth to speak again, to tell him three more important words that should have been spoken long ago, before he faced death another time by a needle of poison in a windowless room, back when she first knew beyond a doubt that they were true.
(Because those three words have lived in between them for longer than she cares to admit, an unavoidable obstacle, an unbreakable connection, an immovable shield against any and all harm, because she's been fooling herself for an entire year if she ever thought she could actually hurt him -)
"I lo-"
But a sudden change in Red's expression dries her words up in her mouth, a darkness taking over his face that makes ice splinter warningly in her veins as his eyebrows suddenly draw down and shutters close over his eyes - expressive only for her - as his gaze flicks just over her shoulder. Liz remains frozen to the spot, something in his posture telling her to stay very still.
The skin under his left eye twitches once before his mouth tightens and his right hand suddenly darts under his suit jacket to the small of his back, snagging the handgun she knows is hidden in the holster there without hesitation and whipping it upwards at lightning speed, pointing it - if Liz didn't know any better - directly at her.
(But she does know better and ducking out of the way or running for her life or even bringing her own gun up to defend herself doesn't even cross her mind. Because there is only trust radiating through her body as she simply gazes at him, admiring the fierceness in his expression and knowing without a doubt in her mind…he would never hurt her. No more than she could ever hurt him.)
So, Liz watches his finger pull the trigger.
She hears the bullet whiz over her left shoulder, close enough that it ruffles her hair as it passes, and she can hear it hit its target with a solid thud and a deep grunt. Liz holds her breath, staring at Red's intense gaze and waiting a long, tense moment until she hears the tell-tale sound of a heavy body hitting the pavement.
It's only once Red's gun slowly lowers and the fierceness starts to melt off his face, that Liz can breathe again, and she's suddenly filled with a jittery panic to look down at herself and search frantically for any invisible injuries that the cold tendrils of shock may be keeping at bay.
(Because - just for a moment - she could swear she's had an awful nightmare just like this, where her shirt soaks with red and his face is overcome by horror and she falls to the ground in front of him -)
But when she looks down, her shirt is exactly the shade of pure white it should be and she breathes an odd sigh of relief before glancing tentatively over her shoulder to get a quick look at the body lying in the dark street behind her.
It's Van Dyke.
(Eyes blinking in shock, Liz's heart stutters in a little flash of fear, but she also can't suppress an exasperated roll of her eyes. She should have known the stupid wolf man just wouldn't let it go. But he's gone now because Red ended it and Liz is glad and well. That's that.)
Without any further thought for her would-be assassin, Liz turns gratefully back to Red to find him looking at her with deep concern.
"Lizzie, are you all right?" he demands, his voice quick and urgent.
"Yes," she breathes, her mouth dry. "Are you?"
He gives a jerky nod, working his mouth uneasily before reaching behind him to tuck his handgun back into his holster. The motion spurs her to do the same, shakily clicking the safety back on her weapon and stuffing it into her waistband at the small of her back.
Then, they just stare at each other.
The stars continue to twinkle above them, the string lights from his restaurant casting a warm glow on his face under the brim of his fedora, and the atmosphere is strikingly different when she's not trying to muster the impossible strength needed to harm him, and she can feel the black hole inside her rapidly disappearing.
"Lizzie…" Red murmurs quietly, almost inaudible with the few feet of distance still between them, his voice melting easily into the now comforting darkness of the night.
(And she doesn't know what he's going to say, stuck at an impasse at they are, but his tone brings back the solemnity of the past few days - their long-awaited conversation, his unexpected request, their bittersweet day at the park - all of it culminating just a few moments ago when she stared into his eyes and tried to pull the trigger.)
But the mere thought of the intentions she was trying to cling to for far too long are now pushing her over the edge into more tears and a clawing desperation. The sheer force of her emotions urges her a few stumbling steps toward him across the pavement, closing half the distance between them before she comes to a faltering stop, wanting fiercely to touch him, but spying a wariness in his eyes that stops her in her tracks.
"Please, Red," she whispers fervently instead. "Please don't do this, don't put us both through this when it's so…unnecessary! I can't take this anymore, we both know I can't hurt you, so please don't do this, I can't, don't make me -"
And her throat tightens painfully, cutting off her strangled words as tears blur her vision, and her desperation and sadness push her the last few steps toward Red, stumbling forward with no real goal in mind until the toe of her boot catches on a crack in the pavement and she trips, pitching helplessly forward -
Right into Red's arms.
(And as she lets out a blissful sigh of relief at the feeling of his firm arms wrapped around her waist, steadying her as always, she supposes she shouldn't be surprised that he's caught her once again.)
Liz wraps her arms around Red's shoulders and presses her face greedily into the warmth of his neck, inhaling his scent gratefully in between jerky sobs, the feeling of his active hands moving to span her waist, rub her shoulders, and brush her hair only making her cry harder.
"Red," she chokes, her fingers clutching at the back of his head, her fingernails dragging through the soft, shorn hair at the base of his neck as she begs him. "Red, please, we don't have to do it this way. Let's just…go. I'll…I'll leave it all alone if you take us away."
The words are leaving her mouth before she's truly conscious of them, but the second she hears them in the air, Liz feels in her heart how true they are. This night has proved to her once and for all, after years of nearly coming together and breaking apart at the last minute more times than she can count, she wants nothing more than to be close to him.
Finally.
At this realization, her pleas pick up with increased vigor.
"I swear, I won't bother you for answers anymore, if you just disappear with me and Agnes, that's all I want," she urges him. "There's nothing left for us here, Red, but I can't leave you, so please, let's go together, let's give all this up and just go -"
But he's become very still against her and he's not saying anything and the tears are over-taking her again because of course, there's no way he'll want anything more to do with her after everything she's done to him in the past year alone, all the times she put his life in danger with her hair-brained schemes, the awful things she's said and done, it's just not possible, there's no way in hell he could still find it within himself to love her -
"Okay."
It takes a long moment for Liz's overwhelmed brain to process the softly murmured word, even though she can feel it rumble to life in Red's chest where she's pressed against him, and when the quiet affirmation finally gets through to her, she freezes briefly in his arms before pulling back in an almost violent jerk to stare at him in shock, bracing her hands on his shoulders, taken aback and positive that she's misheard.
(Because after everything, all the events of the past year - not to mention the last eight - with how many times they've come close to this point, is it really possible he can love her enough to give her yet another chance?)
Liz stares at him, her eyes flicking rapidly between his, searching deep in his grey eyes for an answer. As she looks, she finds a little hesitation and tentativeness, his posture still slightly guarded even while his hands remain resting warmly at her waist. But in his raised eyebrows and small smile, she can also see surprise and happiness and, most beautifully of all…hope. It's cautious but true, and Liz feels a wonderful warmth flood her body all at once at the sight of it, erasing the cold that has been settled there since that awful day she turned on him for the last time.
(Because they've long since missed their second chances in one another, things never lining up quite perfectly enough to allow it, but this feels oddly like their final opportunity, snatched from the jaws of death and defeat, and Liz will be damned if they let it pass them by again.)
Liz nods shakily, releasing him and taking half a step back to hastily wipe her eyes with her sleeve, ignoring the makeup smearing there in favor of drying off her face. When she turns back to him, a few tears still leaking from under her lashes, Red is still looking at her as if she's the most precious thing he's ever seen and it still disarms her like it always has.
(And her hands are already starting to itch from the loss of him under her hands and, by the way his fingers are twitching, she thinks he may be missing her too.)
So, Liz reaches out a hand - palm up - stopping a few inches from his own in a plain offer, a wordless promise, an unspoken oath, and this time Red doesn't hesitate before he takes it.
"Let's go."
And with hands clasped, fingers entwined, and palms kissing, they disappear into the night.
Their only stop is to pick up Agnes, quickly packing her princess dolls and regretfully waking her to slip her coat on over her pajamas, and Red carries her dozing form in his arms while Liz bids a tearful goodbye to Mrs. French, slipping a small fortune in cash into the pocket of her housecoat as she hugs her farewell.
(And bundling Agnes into the car, holding her snuggly against her side as Dembe drives them swiftly to the airfield, while her and Red hold hands on the seat, Liz can't help but think to herself that…it's about time.)
Not one moment too soon, they're in the air, sitting comfortably on Red's jet, finally on their way to a better life together. Agnes sleeps soundly in between the two of them, her head on Red's lap and her feet in Liz's, while Dembe stretches out on the opposite row of seats, taking advantage of the dimly lit cabin to get some much-needed rest, happy that Red is once again safe and nearby.
(And as they fly through the dark, Red gently stroking Agnes' hair and forgoing any rest himself to stare at Liz in starstruck wonder instead, she thinks to herself that…it's well past time to give up her past.)
And a month later the three of them are settled in their beautiful seaside villa in a remote, gorgeous beach in Fiji, with Uncle Dembe staying close by and a frequent visitor, and Liz is sure she's never been this happy.
Until one night when she leaves Agnes' room - the girl dreaming peacefully with her plush seahorse and deep blue night light - to find Red waiting at her bedroom door. He says nothing, only gazing intensely at her for what feels like a lifetime, until he finally reaches out to press an envelope into her hand and a kiss to her cheek, before he slips away into his bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. Feeling a niggling cold starting to take up residence in her heart again, Liz takes the sealed letter into her room and spends a long time sitting in the dark on the edge of her bed, staring at the envelope. She gazes at her name, written with care in his elegant, red script, her index finger lightly tracing the flowing letters, and pondering the fact that the answers to every question she's ever had lie just inside…
Until she opens her bedside drawer, places the unopened letter in the back, and slides it shut.
(And when she slips into Red's room moments later to find him out on his private balcony, his elbows leaning on the railing and his head slightly bowed in the starlight, watching the moonlit waves breaking gently on the shore, Liz wastes no more time in joining him there, placing a gentle hand on his forearm to get his attention and leaning in to press a warm, loving kiss to his slightly parted lips, thinking to herself that…it's high time to let go.)