And that is what her life will return to, she realizes, if the FBI were to find out about their relationship. They would take him from her as surely as the ghosts in her dream had. She buries her head in her hands and lets the terror of her awful dream leak out of her eyes.
She startles when she feels a pair of strong hands grasp her knees.
"Lizzie, what is it?" The gravelly tones of Red's sleepy voice wash over her, a calming wave.
She opens her eyes to find him kneeling in front of her, concern etching his features. Forgetting his injured ribs, she throws herself at him, burying her face against his neck.
Red's arms wind around her, holding her tightly to him, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest. Her hot tears scald his skin as he tries to calm her frantic sobbing.
"Please, sweetheart, tell me what's wrong," he pleads.
"We can't tell them!" she exclaims, pulling back from him desperately, her hands clutching at the material of his t-shirt. "Cooper and the FBI; we can't tell them about us! They'll take you away from me, they'll put you in a hole somewhere and I'll never be able to find you. Please, Red, they can't ever know!"
He smoothes his hands over her face, her hair, searching her eyes for some clue to understand her terror. "Ok," he says seriously, his eyebrows knitting together. "But, sweetheart, I don't know if we can live together and keep that from them for very long. It just isn't practical. Someone will find out. What do you want to do?"
"I can't lose you, please! We do whatever we have to, and if that means we can't move in together, then…..we c-can't," her voice breaks and she falls apart in his arms again.
It feels like hours that he holds her like that, until she is so exhausted that he simply gathers her up and sits in the chair with her on his lap, her tear-streaked face pressed against his chest. He watches the sun come up over her sleeping head, his jaw working tensely against his own anguish.
When he awakens her with a kiss on her temple, she is withdrawn, regretful; the sunrise burns away for the gloom, but does nothing to quell the sadness in her heart. They ready themselves for the day in silence, both of them unsure of how to proceed, the terror of the night clinging to them even in the morning light.
The flight back to Washington is strained and quiet.
When Red drops her at the Post Office, she is grateful to have a few hours to herself before their meet tonight. He reminds her that he will pick her up at 6:00 from her motel. She climbs out of the car, clutching her laptop, with a long look behind her as his car pulls away.
Red stares out the window forlornly; how different today is from the last time they were in this same place. He shakes himself mentally; he is the Concierge of Crime for heaven's sake! Surely he can find a solution to this problem. He need only set his mind to the task; he will find a way to convince Lizzie that they deserve a chance together.
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