The earliest memory she could pull from her mind was one of low laughter and warm hands tucking her into bed, soft whispers of sweet dreams, before the bright imprint of flames and screams and whimpers filled her head and haunted her nights.

She'd been young, they'd told her, and hadn't known what she was doing, and if that were true, then why did she remember it? Why did she remember that nightmare and the fire it had brought forth, the quickly smothered footfalls of her parents as they ran-from her.

That was the last moment she had ever felt loved, the sensation fading into two freshly dug graves as the rain beat down on her tiny black umbrella.

Love.

It was a fairytale for the ones who had nothing better to dream of, a small, insignificant thing that she had no time for. She couldn't love someone when she couldn't even love herself, and that's why she was distant, closed off from anyone trying to get close.

It worked 98% of the time, and the other 2%-well, that space was occupied by a certain red skinned demon, always lurking outside the mental institution to talk with her. She didn't want to talk, or maybe she did, but not with him. Not with the one person that she dreamt of at night, the one person she actually wanted to get close to.

But she could never, ever get close to him.

And such was Elizabeth Sherman's dilemma.

She'd tried so many things; scooting away, flipping him off, ignoring him completely, being cruel, being "hormonal", even insulting the tail that swished back and forth behind him. Red never gave up, though, like he could see right through her and past all of the walls she'd so carefully constructed over the years, and she wasn't sure how to feel about that. She wasn't sure, of course, until she realized how fast those walls were crumbling-melting, really-in the light of his amber gaze.

But Red was infuriating, and annoying, and childish, and for all the world the most selfish man she had ever met. He was also kind, and surprising, and gentle, and completely selfless when he wanted to be, and that was why Liz loved him.

Yes, she loved him; her friend, her comrade, her one and only, her other half.

She loved him so fiercely that she could barely stand it, holding her breath when he took too long to get back up from a tumble off of the edge of a rooftop, or when he took his sweet time limping his way back from a mission gone wrong.

Her heart had nearly stopped each time he looked like he wasn't breathing, and her eyes always got teary with relief when it finally looked like he was.

Her heart all but melted in his palms when at last he'd bring her in for a kiss, wrapping his arms around her in his secure embrace as blue flames enveloped them both.

Indeed, Liz was very, very in love with Red-head over heels, really- and when he called her Sparky, she realized it wasn't as bad a nickname as she'd thought, once upon a time.

Please R&R! Feedback is always appreciated! All rights go to their respectful owners.

I haven't written anything centering on Liz, so I figured I would try to delve into her insecurities and how Red makes them disappear. ;)