Chapter 1: Scars

They were on the lam together less than a week when Lizzy saw Red's scars for the first time. He supposed he could have taken better precautions if he had more time to plan, but they were stuck in such close quarters those first few frenetic days, it was almost an inevitability that she would turn around too early while they changed in yet another cramped room and manage to catch a glimpse.

Red couldn't remember the last time he felt so petrified, so utterly paralyzed with trepidation as he felt while he waited for Lizzy to react to her discovery. He found himself unable to move, not even to pull his undershirt over his head to cover himself; his limbs were too heavy and slow with fear. He simply stood rooted to the spot, barely even breathing, and stared at his feet. He didn't dare try to meet her eyes.

If there was ever a chance she would assume the scars came from some other incident in his sordid past, his behavior completely obliterated it. He braced himself, expecting yet another setback in their tentative alliance; to his surprise, Lizzy coaxed the t-shirt from his stiff fingers without a word, then scrunched it up so she could easily slip it over his head. A gentle tugging on his wrist started him moving again, encouraged him to slide his own arms into the short sleeves.

Lizzy's hands smoothed the soft fabric down his flank in a way that quite possibly could have been lingering, but Red didn't really trust his own judgement at that moment.

Time stretched.

A twinge of something that was not quite pain blossomed through his chest as her palm brushed his still-healing gunshot wound and his mind reeled.