Work Text:
“You got me a couch.”
Lizzie slips the heavy bag from her shoulder and lets it fall to the floor. She feels like doing much the same. Collapsing on the couch Red has obviously purchased for her would do, but she won't give him the satisfaction. He bought her a couch? After Tom phoned and told her he wouldn’t be around for the next day or two, Liz had made big plans to soak in the bath for the evening and soothe her sore ribs. Then she was going to order take-out. But now Red is here, and he’s gone and bought her a couch. He had been dozing when she entered her apartment. His eyes blinked open lazily as she stared at him. Being on the run had taken its toll on them both, and then Red worked tirelessly to get her exonerated. She may have him beat though, with her injured ribs and pregnancy.
She has seen him sleep before. He told her once that he only dozes when he feels safe enough to do so. Usually Dembe would be around in another room, but other times, like when they were on the run and it was just her, he slept fine.
She knows he wants to talk when he tells her he has missed her, but she lets herself believe he means he has missed only her hair color. She also tells herself and Red she dyed it back to its natural color because she doesn't have to hide anymore. Although, ridiculously, she also secretly thinks that if she has brown hair again things will go back to how they were, back to when things were simpler. Now she thinks about it, she'd have to go back pretty damn far.
Lizzie doesn't just have herself to look after now, she has a little one growing in her stomach. She hates to admit it, but the thought of having a child terrifies her to the point of feeling a nausea that isn't morning sickness. If she were another person, or lived a different life, she would be celebrating her pregnancy by popping open a bottle of sparkling grape juice.
But she is Elizabeth Keen, or Masha Rostova, and she doesn't have a normal life. The criminal sitting in her home wearing his three piece suit is blatant evidence of this.
She watches as Red eyes the hand he has draped on the back of the couch. He pats the the fabric and smiles as he admires his purchase. Then he nods once in her direction but doesn't bother to offer her any reason behind his extravagant gift. It's a nice, elegant couch, she'll give him that, but he has absolutely no right to decide what furniture her house needs. And he has no right to sit there as if he's been waiting for her all day. As if their relationship is perfectly normal and good, and he is welcome to come and go as he pleases.
Their relationship was good. It was good immediately after she got cleared from sixteen accounts of capital murder. She had hugged him so tight and with so much gratitude that Red had joked he was having trouble breathing.
But then things changed.
“Why?” Lizzie asks him. Why would he go and buy her a couch when he knows that she doesn't like him spending his money, that he gets from doing God knows what, on her.
“You didn’t have one.”
Liz decides she doesn’t have the energy to tell him he can’t go around buying her couches, and she definitely can't be bothered to tell him he cannot come barging into her home unannounced like Goldilocks. He won't listen to her. He's been told before, but here he is again.
A number of boundaries have been crossed in their relationship. Some so far crossed Liz knows they will never just have a working relationship again. If what they had can be called that.
Although, it's not all Red's fault. He may have crossed some lines, probably most of them, but so has she. And she crossed a very big, permanent marker one.
Sometimes ignoring things works but not always. And this thing between them certainly isn't one of those times they can just float on by and pretend nothing has happened. Things have been tense and strained between them for the last couple of days. Red has been over protective today, and he has already reminded her that their battle isn't over just yet. There is still danger, death and violence nipping at their heels. Particularly her heels. The thought that there are people still after her, after Masha Rostova, makes her ache.
"Why are you here?" she asks him.
Red sits up a little straighter and looks at the free space beside him. He glances towards her and raises his eyebrows in an offer for her to join him, but Lizzie gives a small shake of her head.
Red leans forward on the sofa, rests his elbows on his thighs and sighs. If he's tired of her attitude then he can leave.
"I misspoke earlier about your child, Lizzie," he tells her. "I said that having it would be ... inconvenient. That is not true. In my experience, there is never a convenient time to have a child," Red continues, and Lizzie has to remind herself to breathe.
"And though the time may be terribly inconvenient for you now, I hope I did not leave you with the impression that I didn’t think you should have your baby."
Lizzie instinctively brushes her hand over her stomach. There is no bump yet, but there is another life in her that she wants to fiercely protect, even if she doesn't know how, or if she is even capable of doing so. Red is right. She did get that impression from him. That her child would make things significantly harder for her. That maybe she shouldn't have it. Her world isn't safe for an innocent child.
She watches as Red's eyes fall to her hand resting on her stomach.
"And if i did," he says regretfully. "I’m sorry for that, because nothing could be further from the truth."
"... So what?" Liz bites back, knows it's uncalled for but does it anyway. It's his fault this has happened; and her life has turned upside down because of him. She takes her hand off her stomach and gestures towards the couch. "This is a 'I'm sorry' gift?"
"No," Red responds so calmly it grates on her nerves, because why is it always her that lashes out at him?
She does actually knows it's not all Red's fault. It's just so much easier blaming him, and it is so sad and unfair because Red lets her. But she shot Connonly, and Red didn't name her Masha Rostova. Why does everything have to be so complicated? And why has he gone and bought her a couch? She immediately feels bad for her earlier accusing tone, but Red doesn't make a fuss. Instead he makes a small show of looking around her new apartment.
"It is a house warming gift," he explains. "They do still do those, don't they?"
Liz presses her palms to her tired eyes, winces when she touches the bruise on her left eye too roughly. She is sore, and she is tired, and she wants to put this conversation off for another month. She wonders how Red knew Tom wouldn't be here. Then again, he does know everything. Well, almost everything. And he ruined Tom's chances at a normal job only hours ago.
"Tom's job fell through," she tells him, and then wonders if she says it to try and get a rise out of him. "He was set to get it."
"I did it for your protection," Red replies and stands from the couch to end her line of discussion. Lizzie relaxes at the thought of him leaving.
Red takes one last look at the couch before walking towards her. "If you think it doesn't go with the rest of your apartment, let Dembe know. We can send it back and find one you like."
They both know full well that the couch matches everything in her apartment. Red wouldn't have purchased one that didn't. He's a man of style and taste, and she suddenly feels self-conscious of her new hair. She finds herself pressing her lips together and holding her breath when he stands close to her. She focuses on the zip he pulls up on his jacket instead of his face, and she feels herself calm significantly when Red reaches for the door handle, only to freeze when he stops to fold the cuffs on each sleeve of his coat.
Red hesitates for a second; she can see him working his tongue in his mouth, and the action makes her warm and ashamed. Then just like a bandage being ripped off to show a gory wound, Red decides to go for it.
"I'm told it pulls out," he says casually, and Lizzie's cheeks instantly go hot.
She knew it was coming. Damn him. And he doesn't stop there either. No, instead he turns to look at her, leans a little closer as if there are people in her apartment that could hear them, and now she can smell his cologne, and he says, "remember when we had so much trouble opening the one on-"
"Yes," Lizzie interjects, her voice weak and annoyed. "I remember."
Red's tongue darts and runs across his upper lip as he nods his head at the memory. Lizzie drops her gaze to his mouth then frowns at him when his lips curve into a smug smile.
"Anyway," Red drawls out, looks back at the couch that gleams white in her apartment. She hates him right now, him and his stupid pull-out couch. Hates him for bringing it up, for winding her up, and she hates herself for letting him. "This one should be much easier. We don't want you falling over with your-"
"Stop it," Lizzie snaps, and she makes his hand twitch at his side with the abruptness of it. "God," she clenches her fists. "Do you enjoy humiliating me? Is that it? Buy me a couch so I what? Am forced to-" Lizzie cuts herself off angrily and blinks back annoying and unwanted tears.
"You're ridiculous," she sniffs.
Red swallows, and she's so glad he looks taken aback and upset by her comment.
"I am not humiliating you Lizzie. I was simply remembering a fond memory. And if I do recall correctly, you were far from humiliated," he replies defensively.
Lizzie closes her eyes and tells herself to not even think of it. He is not here. But he is here, and he is right; she wasn't humiliated. She had laughed alongside him until her sides hurt. She had boasted to him that she could open up the couch he was so struggling with. You think you're so smooth, Red. Look! You've spilled wine on yourself. Them in that damn corrugated iron box. Red was half naked at that time, and she was ... more naked than him. Her heart races at the thought of how strangely confident she was. She did manage to pull open the couch much to her delight, only after falling over in her underwear and blaming it on the rough seas.
Lizzie stares at him now and focuses on her in-and-out breathing. Her cheeks are still on fire, but thankfully Red ignores the heat and finally decides that he will leave her be.
"I don't think I have ever seen you laugh like that before," he says, voice softer now. He reaches for the door and opens it.
She sighs and catches his arm. She presses her other hand against the door to push it close.
"You're right," she nods. "We should talk. We need to talk."
Red looks down at her warm hand on his arm until she removes it.
"Do you want to talk about why Tom is living with you?" he asks, looks towards Tom's black jacket hanging on the hook next to them. "Or something else entirely?"
"Tom is none of your business," Liz replies flatly, though she feels a little off saying it. It isn't fair on Red, she knows that, and she feels guilty because of it.
"I see," Red purses his lips. "Well, if we're both thinking of the same other thing we could talk about, it all seems rather pointless now."
Tom's coat is in her apartment, his favorite coffee is in the kitchen. He wants to move in. It looks like he has started moving in without her realizing. She knows what it looks like to Red and wonders whether she should tell him that Tom hasn't actually stayed over. He stays late, but never for the night. And she also wonders if she should tell Red she hasn't told Tom she is pregnant.
"You regret it," Red says, and it's not a question.
She watches his own guilt flare up in his eyes as they scatter across her face, try to read her. He thinks he see regret, and it's a rare thing to see Red on the verge of panicking.
"I didn't say that," she responds, and she does want to assure him, because he is reading her wrong. "I regret what happened after," she continues slowly. "We should have talked straight away. But we slept together, Red, and then completely ignored it. The longer we left it, the harder it got for me to bring it up."
This time it's Red's cheeks that turn pink.
"We were... things were crazy," Lizzie says. "It seemed like we had bigger things to worry about at the time."
"We did. Getting you exonerated was the only thing we needed to focus on," Red replies, watches her closely. "Still, we should have made time for a conversation."
"We're having it now," Lizzie offers.
"A little too late it seems."
Lizzie shakes her head in disagreement.
"... When you spoke to me earlier about ... me being pregnant ... you freaked me out. It's like this violence never ends with us. And Tom was so... positive about everything. About starting fresh. About getting a new job," Lizzie sighs. "I clung to the idea. That I could do that too. With him... I just want a normal life so much sometimes, and I let myself believe him."
"You don't need Tom to create that fantasy you told me about, Lizzie."
"I know," Lizzie replies, leans back against the wall behind her. She rubs her palms on her thighs and stares at his coat pockets. "I do know that."
Red nods and reaches out a hand to quickly touch her arm. When she looks up at him, he apologizes. "I'm sorry if I've upset you today. It's never my intention to upset or humiliate you. And so I'm sorry for before, Lizzie. About the ... couch's features."
Lizzie gives him a small smile. "Is it really a pull-out?"
"I think so. However, that wasn't the reason I bought it. It looked like a couch that you might like, and it's very comfortable if I do say so myself."
Lizzie pushes herself off the wall and walks over to inspect the gift. She sits on the arm of it and looks over at Red still standing by the front door.
"I need to tell you something," she says, lets out a breath he can hear. "It's important."
Red unzips his jacket and moves across the room. Liz slides off from the arm of the chair when he sits down, and she sits close to him.
"It is comfy," she says.
"It is."
Lizzie smiles then shifts a little. "I haven't told Tom I'm pregnant."
"You're still adjusting to the news. I'm sure he will understand."
"No. It's not that."
"Alright," Red nods and frowns as if he's trying to work out what it is she wants to say. "Do you know why you haven't told him?"
"Yes," she replies warily.
"Perhaps if you share I might be able to help you Lizzie," he suggests gently.
She lets out another loud breath and straightens her shoulders. Here she goes. Here she goes.
"The baby ..." Liz pauses and looks at Red, and his expression is so encouraging, she thinks that maybe it won't be so bad, and maybe he will help her, and maybe everything dangerous in the world will vanish.
"Lizzie."
"Isn't Tom's," she blurt out.
Red has always been a man of many expressions, but she's never witnessed such instant realisation on a person's face before. He makes a gurgled type sound in the back of his throat, and Lizzie pales and wants to crawl in a hole.
"Yours," she whispers, even though the fact is obvious.
So this is when they are meant to pop open the bottle of sparkling grape juice and toss around names and is it a girl or is it a boy. Lizzie can't even bring herself to say a light joke. Red is freaking out, she thinks. And if Red vanishes then what the hell does she do?
Red does finally manages to find a hoarse version of his voice. "Are you sure?"
Lizzie nods. "I wanted to tell you today, but then you assumed it was Tom's ... and I just... I couldn't tell you."
Red looks down at her stomach.
"You're sure?" He asks again.
"I'm very sure. There is no other possibility. I was ... careless that night ... And I should have thought about it the next morning and taken something, but-"
"It was both of us, Lizzie," Red quickly stops her. "It was both of us."
"I can't do this without you."
At her cracked voice, Red glances up from her stomach, and his face falls when he sees her tears. He reaches out and rubs the pads of his thumbs across both her cheeks.
"You won't have to. I will be here to help you in any way you want. You will not go through this alone Lizzie."
She hopes that when he looks at her he doesn't mind the tinge of excitement he might see. Because it is there, finally, despite everything that needs to be talked about and planned, she can feel it creeping up on her.
"You know that I've always wanted to be a mother," she says.
"I know," Red smiles at her, cups the side of her face. "And you're going to be so great Lizzie."
She breathes freely now, feels herself calm and her body cool, and she smiles at him because with just a few words, he's made everything easier. She turns her lips and nose into his palm, breathes in and closes her eyes.
"I don't regret it," she says and kisses his palm. Her lips are wet on his skin, and when she opens her eyes to look at him, Red is gravitating closer to her. "I don't regret it," she says again.
"Lizzie. Can I feel?"
She sits back against the cushions of the couch and lifts up her shirt. Red looks at her once more for permission and, when she nods, he places his hand over her bare stomach. He spreads his fingers. There isn't anything to feel yet, but Red looks as if he's feeling everything. He shifts closer, moves his head down towards her stomach and presses his cheek against her skin.
"I loved everything about that night," he says.