Lizzie's Song

Chapter 23- Finding One's Place

A/N:  This chapter contains explicit material.

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Thomas returns to Lizzie's bedroom. She is curled on the bed, quiet, and he wonders if she is asleep until she shifts upon hearing the door click shut. He kneels beside her bed so he can be eye to eye with her, his arms crossed under his chin as he rests on the edge of her mattress. She touches his hair, running her fingers through the damp locks.

"Thank you."

He places his fingers on her lips, "You're welcome. But rest." She smiles and kisses his fingertips.

"I'm scared for Nathaniel. He's the only brother I've ever had."

She touches his cheek and traces a line down it.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

She touches her own cheek where her tears are still damp and then his, leaving little trails down from his eyes.

"Cry. Are you asking if I need to?"

She nods.

"I don't know. I don't know how to feel this."

She finds her notebook, "Just do. Don't make a right or wrong out of it. You will feel what you will feel. And I will be right here."

"May I join you right there?"

She nods and he climbs onto the bed, slipping under the sheets and quilt behind her despite the summer warmth. He buries his face in her hair, breathing in her scent, one arm around her waist. There is something different about her hair, though, something harsh. A scent not hers. It also feels brittle, rough against his skin- he noticed it when he held her as she coughed, but didn't think to identify why. Then it dawns on him. Cordite. She has not been working only in the press house.

"Lizzie...you've been moved to another place in the factory?"

She shakes her head.

"Your hair is brittle. You've been around the acids."

"The girls in the cotton rooms are in far worse shape. They need breaks, or their gums start to decay from the fumes. I took a few shifts for them. We all do."

"Oh no..." His heart sinks and he holds her snug against him, one arm around her waist, the other across her chest.

"I'm sorry. But I couldn't just let them stay there without time to rest. Our building is much safer."

He pulls her from her side to her back and she looks over at him, "Don't go back. Please. I'll find work in the shipyards, I'll make bullets, I'll do anything I have to so that I might take care of you and serve in your place, but please, stay here, where it's safe."

"But why should any of us be safe? Nathaniel isn't. Ezra wasn't. And I have to do something, too."

"Let me. I'll split my time between Barrow-in-Furness and the village. It won't be ideal, but I'll send every cent back so we can build a life here after the war. Please, Lizzie. You've sacrificed your health to this. Neither of them would want you in harm's way. That's why they went to fight- to defend the people they love."

She turns to face him and cuddles against his chest, "And what if it never ends?"

"All wars end. Even the long ones."

They lay together in the still of the afternoon, the sun warming the bed. She starts to fall asleep, but wipes her eyes and rests her hand on his waist. He smiles at her and kisses her forehead. She kisses his lips, her mouth open, quietly eager. Thomas does not resist. The door is closed. Lizzie is inviting. And he has dreamt of time absolutely alone with her for far too long. He clutches her close as they explore lips, tongues, skin, his hands inching down her back until he finds the curve of her rear. He slides his hands over her skirt slowly, waiting for her to stop him, wondering if she will. She does not. Her own hands inch lower on his chest, down his stomach, slipping under the fabric to loose the buttons. He sighs as her hands meet his bare skin, working their way up across his chest and then back down again, until one rests under his side, the other slowly moving lower.