Touch of Your Fingertips

Touch provides its own language of compassion, a language that is essential to what it means to be human. Everyday forms of touch can bring us emotional balance and better health. A pat on the back, a caress of the arm—these are everyday, incidental gestures that we usually take for granted, thanks to our amazingly dexterous hands.

Compassion is literally at our fingertips. - Dacher Keltner

A Red x Lizzie story. Season 2 future.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, just for fun. Just give me one day in the writer's room and our otp would be canon. Involves a lot of Facebook Prompts – try to find them.

Thank you jadenanne7 for being my emergency Beta ;-) and my team of proofreaders.

This is dedicated to Em, I know that she would have loved the blacklist.

My first Blacklist story. I have not written in over a decade.

I hope you enjoy. If all goes well, there will around 11 chapters.

XOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

CH1 – The Unknown.

The Post Office

It was just like any other ordinary day. A blacklister was on the loose, and the FBI, as usual, needed the help of Raymond Reddington. Liz was tired. Exhausted. Torpid. She rubbed her slick forehead, releasing a weary sigh. Why can't I just go to bed? Through half-lidded eyes, Liz tried to focus on the ticking clock in Cooper's office. Time goes by so damn slow. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Just another hour before it was over. Liz could feel the start of a headache at the back of her skull. Throbbing. Warning her about the lack of sleep. Dreams. Reddington. Two things that kept her up most nights for the past few weeks. Every time she closed her eyes and tried to relax, his face would appear in her subconscious mind. Her limbic system was disruptive to her everyday life.

'What do you want Agent Keen? Who do you really want?'

"Agent Keen. Yes or no?" Cooper's stern voice startled her, her nails pressed into the rough concrete wall behind her, leaving marks. Her heart skipped a beat. 'Shit, shit, shit!'Everyone was staring at her impatiently. She could feel their disapproving gazes. Red was the only one that seemed slightly amused. Busted. Her eyes adjusted to the piercing light of Cooper's office before squinting at him. 'What was the question?'

Red cleared his throat and clasped his hands in front of him. Everyone's attention shifted back towards the magnetic presence sitting at Cooper's desk.

"Well, I think Agent Keen's silence speaks volumes, Harold. She has no objections. Do you, Agent KEEN?" One brow lifted in question, his lips formed a sly smile. Liz met his gaze with confusion and scowled. The bastard knew she was not listening. Liz crossed her arms in a defensive stance. Bracing herself for the onslaught from her response.

"I'll do whatever is necessary for the case, Sir." Her voice came out more confident than she felt. She mentally patted herself on the back. Nice safe. Her eyes met Red's sea greens in passing. 'Damn you, Raymond Reddington. What the hell did I just say yes to?'

Red bobbed his head approvingly and grabbed his fedora of the Assistant Director's desk, placing it on top of his head, adjusting the brim with the tip of his fingers before he stood up.

"We must be leaving. Time is money and with this economy, it is plummeting as we speak. Ready, Agent Keen?" he asked eyeing her over his shoulder. It wasn't really a question, nor did he wait for her reply. With a curt nod to Cooper, he left, passing Liz on his way out, lingering outside the door for her to follow suit.

Liz nodded at Cooper and turned to leave when a firm albeit soft hand touched her left shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. "Do you want to borrow a dress? I have one in my locker," the Iranian beauty asked in mock kindness, looking her up and down pensively. "Might be a little large on the top, but I'm sure it will fit you." Chocolate brown eyes met stormy blues.

"If Reddington insists on me, this will have to do," Liz replied with determination and a slight edge to her voice, making it clear that Red wanted her and only her. She did not trust Samar, especially the way she looked at Red. Speaking of Red, she could feel his smug smirk rather than see him snickering behind her back. Samar squeezed her shoulder harder than necessary before letting go, holding her hands up in surrender. Miss Innocent.

"Just wanting to help out. You do look like a cop, you know. Not the best undercover outfit for this kind of operation."

Liz squinted her eyes, taking in her own appearance. Her FBI issued outfit looked like wrinkled drapes after a long day of court. She wore a black tailored suit jacket and a sheer, sleeveless, burgundy wine red blouse with a black pencil skirt that hit her at the knee, paired with black 3-inch heels. Her headache intensified, wondering where the hell they were going that warranted a dress. Liz brushed her hands across the length of her jacket, the soft cotton fabric smooth, the tiny fabric hairs tickling the back of her palms, trying, unsuccessfully, to straighten out the wrinkles.

'The woman should mind her own business.' Their only lead got away because of her. What did Aram and Red see in her anyway? A crease appeared on her forehead...her head was throbbing synchronically with her rising heart rate. Hands made their way to her hips, a move that was typically reserved for Ressler. The Superman stance. Empowering. Intimidating. She really missed her partner at this moment, wondering if this is how he felt upon meeting her for the first time, roughly a year ago. The tension was palpable, making everyone in the room slightly uncomfortable.

Liz was ready to reprimand Samar, but before she could get a word out, Red cut her off. "Agent Keen looks fine. Let's go, shall we?" Red's eyes pleaded her not to make a scene in front of her boss, who was observing the two agents, staring pensively at the scene in front of him.

Cooper shook his head, reclining himself further in his seat. He would never understand women. Why couldn't they just get along?

Liz didn't back down, and glared up at Agent Samar Navabi.

It was short lived as Red grabbed Liz by the arm, his fingers wrapping lightly around her bicep, ushering her out of the office and towards the elevator. The warmth of his hand seeped through the thin fabric of her jacket. Liz shrugged him off and walked roughly two feet in front of him, knowing he would have to follow her lead like a stray puppy, which was unbecoming to Red. He might be the number 4 most wanted criminal in the world, but she was hurt by his condescension towards her.

She was furious at Red for making her do whatever he pleased without so much as asking for her input, enraged at Samar for being Red's puppet, acting like a two-faced bitch towards her, irritated at Cooper for hiring her in the first place for no apparent reason other than to oblige Red, and mad at Ressler for becoming an addict and leaving her behind to pick up the pieces, for being on a 'holiday' from all this mess. But most of all, she was angry with herself for being angry in the first place...a feeling she was all too familiar with lately. God, she hated this job. The harsh tapping of her heels on the concrete floor reflected her anger. Her feelings followed her like withering echoes in the hollow hallways.

Reaching the lift, Liz pressed the button. The doors slid open as she entered and quickly pressed to close it again. She knew it was childish to make him wait, but at this point she didn't really care. Red caught up just before the doors shut, his fedora well placed in between. His eyes were amused and his lips quirked. His eyebrows almost reached the edge of his receding hairline. He was enjoying this. Liz's sour mood intensified as he took a stance next to her fidgeting with the brim of his fedora, clasped between his sturdy fingers that rested at his side.

Red glanced down at his expensive Rolex. "You know, Lizzie...she was right." The vibration of his deep voice cut through the uncomfortable silence that had settled over them like a cold blanket. He peered up from his watch, scanning over her appearance.

Liz kept her eyes forward towards the door as the lift slowly made its descent. "And where, exactly, are we going that makes me not want to look like I do?" she questioned, challenging him to rebuke.

Red let out a small, throaty laugh. "Well, Lizzie. You should already know." Her name was dragged out in syllables, mocking her.

Liz frowned, her brows furrowed in mild confusion. He knew she was tired and had not listened to a word that was said in the confidence of Cooper's office. He was playing games. Now was just not the time.

Liz whipped her head around and strode two long steps towards him, leaving a mere inch of space between them. Anger seeped out of her pores as she took a stance to hit him, but instead rammed her right hand against the emergency button. With a sudden jerk the lift came to an abrupt halt. Her long digits gripped the plastic button, holding on for dear life. The button was smooth and round, unlike her. Her nails probably chipped from the sheer force of the impact.

Red didn't even flinch. He just examined her curiously, his eyes focused, golden brown through his amber colored glasses. Hot minty breath fanned Liz's face in short puffs. The smell of smoke, musky cologne mixed with his tangy aftershave overwhelmed her senses. Her right arm brushed his left. Shared body heat. The tips of his expensive, Italian, brown-pebbled leather shoes almost touched her simple black ones. Contradiction. An oxymoron of two things that did not belong yet fit so well together. She felt trapped in a cocoon of Red. Liz swallowed a lump as his gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips for a millisecond and back up again. If she wasn't this close, she might have missed it. Her confidence waned. What was she thinking? Well, she wasn't. Her emotions betrayed her often, making her act on impulse. Releasing her death grip on the button, she took a step back to regain her composure. Flexing her sore tendons, Liz let out a deep breath as she rubbed her temples, closing her eyes for a moment.

"Red, please not now. I am tired of this dance. Not tonight. Just...just tell me, okay?" Her eyes slowly re-opened, her soul exposed, pleading with him to help her out.

Red pursed his lips, and gave in. "Because of the incompetence of your dear colleagues, your only lead got away. Nothing new for you, I presume. However, I for one, know the person you are searching for. Doctor Noj Eisenkamp. A quack psychologist who hypnotizes his patients to kill targets for whoever is willing to pay. Afterwards, they have no recollection of the events nor of the kind doctor."

"And you know where he is?" Liz asked rhetorically.

Red did not catch this, tilting his head. "As a matter of fact, I do." A cocky smile spread across his face, like a kid who knows where the presents are hidden before Christmas.

Liz placed her hands on her hips, angled her head to the side to mimic his. A thing she caught herself doing more often lately. Why did this still surprise her? Of course he knew. He was Red...always prepared with an insidious plan. Or ridiculous. Take your pick. "Why not tell Cooper and the others?"

Red let out a rumble of fake laughter. "Now, now, Lizzie, where is the fun in that?" He shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head sideways. "Your confidence in the bureau boggles me. They would swarm the place, spook the doc, and he would simply disappear into the dead of night, free to torment new patients in other cities as he strolls along. I will give you further details on our way over there."

Liz wondered where 'there' was exactly. He wouldn't tell her now anyway. He knew she might still refuse to tag along.

Red lifted his left hand, skimming her shoulder. "However, I must say that you do look like a cop...might be dangerous in the place we are going to," Red scoffed, a thin smile gracing his lips.

Liz crossed her arms, making his hand drop to his side again, and jutted her chin as if she did not know the implied danger of whatever an undercover mission entailed.

His eyes locked with hers, purposefully ignoring her body language. "Shall we pick up a dress along the way? I know a splendid little boutique just across..." Red's voice drifted, his mouth slightly agape, forming a perfect 'O' before snapping shut again.

His face unreadable as Liz shrugged her purse and jacket off, letting them drop with a deafening sound, her headache momentarily on the back burner. Liz grabbed his right shoulder for balance as she slipped her shoes off, never breaking eye contact. Next were her flesh colored nylon stockings. Hitching her skirt up her thighs and rolling them down her smooth legs felt oddly sexy in front of Red. She almost laughed at the thought that struck her. Good thing she shaved her legs this morning.

Red seemed enthralled with the movement. Captivated. His eyes followed the transparent cloth down until they hit the floor. His brows crunched together in mild concentration, trying to figure out the woman unfolding before him. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue in anticipation.

His eyes glazed over, as if he was seeing Liz, the real Liz, for the first time. Not as a girl, but as a desirable woman. He had always found her profoundly beautiful; how could he not? Auburn soft hair, piercing blue eyes, straight nose, high cheekbones, plump pink lips and a strong jaw combined with a body hardened by muscles, yet soft with curves...all hit Plato's so-called "golden proportions", based on the looks of Helen of Troy. His Lizzie could have been the queen of beauty. However, he never dared to see her as more than that.

Desire is a treacherous emotion and judging by the rhythm of his elevated heartbeat, he wanted her. Right now. His left hand balled into a fist. His short nails almost drew blood at the base of his palm. His right tightened on the brim of his Borsalino ice grey fedora, creasing the tender straws. His three-piece, slate gray, linen suit suddenly felt too hot for wear. He could feel his armpits starting to moisten, staining his crisp white button up and his lilac Zegna Paisley embroidered tie felt like a noose around his neck, trying to strangle him, depriving his brain from necessary oxygen, corrupting the blood flow downwards. He feels his chest tighten. His lips parted, wanting to tell her to stop or to keep going til the last stitch of fabric disappeared. He did not know which one would come out if he dared to speak. He did not even blink. His eyes felt dry. Sweat glands started to appear above his upper lip. The muscle under his left eye twitched.

For the first time in a long time, Red was speechless. Boneless. Unmoving.

Liz seemed to enjoy his discomfort quite a bit. The right side of her lips turned up as she worried her under lip, readjusting her skintight skirt. The sweaty palms of her hands smoothed down the dark elastic cotton. Her eyes stern. Determined. She felt reinvigorated. Alive. Desired. If he wanted a show, she would give him one. Before she could change her mind, Liz took the bobby pins that kept her hair up and pulled them out, letting them fall. Metal bounced off the ground before rolling away, coming to an abrupt halt in front of his feet. Her brown locks sprung free, hitting her right above the shoulders as she shook them out, ruffling her hair like some cheap L'Oreal commercial. Crouching down to grab something out of her purse, she stood up and applied some red lipstick in the reflection of his glasses, ignoring his pointed stare. Liz rubbed her lips together, releasing them with a loud pop, and tossed the lipstick back. She looked good. Unlike herself, yet not really different. Ready.

There was just one thing missing. On impulse, while still looking at herself and him, she unbuttoned the first three buttons of her blouse, giving Red a small peak of the black lace bra she wore underneath. Not her normal work attire, but it gave her more confidence in the courtroom. A Dita von Teese quote reminded her of just that. 'Lingerie is not about seducing men, it's about embracing womanhood.'

Red did not look, nor did he utter a word, short of his elevating breathing. It would shatter his self-control. He swallowed a lump. The bobbing of his Adam's apple felt heavy, stuck in his dry throat.

Liz slipped her heels back on, grabbed her purse, discarded jacket and stuffed her stockings in the side pockets, draping the cloth over her right arm, not even bothering with the pins on the floor. Her usual demeanor was back in place, her expression stoic. Facing the door again, Liz turned her head sideways to where Red was standing, not daring to even glance at him.

"Red, could you push the button? We have to move quickly, do we not?" Her voice sounded more seductive than intended. It shocked her, how far she was willing to go to prove a point. Well it was too late to go back now.

As if stuck in quicksand, it took a moment for Red to respond as the elevator slowly jolted back to life, resuming its descent. He shook his head lightly, trying to rid his mind of unsavory thoughts...thoughts that had no place in their current situation or their current relationship, if that's what you could call it. He couldn't believe what just had transpired. His Lizzie was a little vixen. Provocative. It excited him yet simultaneously frightened him. She had him, all of him, and she did not even realize it. What would she do when she did…

All of a sudden, Liz felt her cheeks flare up, hot even under the blaring air-conditioning. Thousands of ants crawled up her body, from her toes up to her legs, abdomen, spine and arms, making her short hairs stand up. An involuntary pilomotor reflex. Goosebumps. She could sense his stare, sizing her up, no doubt.

What had she done? Was she trying to seduce Red, or just trying to affirm something in the deep recess of her own twisted mind? That she was more than a cop. More than his Lizzie. That she could do this. All of it. Be a woman and a capable agent. 'Get a grip, Liz. Don't try to compartmentalize. Just relax.'

The deafening silence stretched on for mere seconds, before the lift reached the bottom with a jolt and slid open. Saved by the bell. Liz almost flew out. Embarrassment hit her right in the face and booted her on her derriere.

Just before she reached the top portion of the staircase she heard Red utter, "You, my dear, never cease to amaze me" his deep, husky voice, vibrating in the air. A careless whisper, so low that she was unsure if it was intended for her to hear.

A breeze hit her like a soft blanket of relief caressing her skin. Liz took a deep breath while descending the stairs, her shoes clicking on the hard metal. The railing of chipped paint was cold and sturdy under her fingertips. Dembe was at the bottom waiting for them. His dark eyes followed her every step of the way. Red hot on her heels. Reaching the last step, the handsome bodyguard held out his hand for her. She kindly took him up on his offer, rough, calloused finger pads brushing hers.

Dembe bowed his head in greeting. "Very nice, Agent Keen." A radiating smile adorned his face as he opened the door of the sleek Sedan.

Liz blushed, quickly taking her seat. As soon as the door closed, her boost of confidence and empowerment dissipated. Her body betrayed her uneasiness at being considered eye-candy. Instead she felt vulnerable and exposed. She was brought out of her reverie when Red slipped into his own seat, leaving a couple of inches of space between their bodies, grinning at her like a Cheshire cat, eyes sparkling. Unlike her he seemed delighted. Excited for what's to come next.

With a petulant toss of the head Liz broke eye contact as Dembe took his own seat and started the engine. Staring through the window, her headache brutally reared his ugly head again. Trepidation. All she wants to do, was to go back to her cheap hotel room and cuddle with Hudson before falling into a peaceful slumber.

Instead she was sitting next to the bane of her existence as thousands of blurred strangers passed by. Unaware of the world around them. Eyes wide shut. Her forehead pressed hard to the cold glass, trying to cool down her elevated temperature. Her hands were placed on the smooth leather seat, tracing the stitches with her finger, trying to soothe her weary mind. Her body wired, tingled with excitement and fear. A combination of repressed emotions no longer foreign to her in the presence of Red. 'Where on God's green earth were they going? And what was this irresistible pull she felt towards Red?'

Slowly, the car made its way into the deep, dark recess of the night as questions plagued her mind. Inquiries. Uncertainties. Further into the unknown.

All comments are welcome. Reviews mean the world to me as well as suggestions. Continue?