Your Scar

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of the Blacklist, and I do not make any money from this.

Author's note: Those who have read my stories before know my MO: I like to write slightly angsty stuff, with some suggestive bits, but I never delve into the actual "good stuff". My apologies, if that's what you've been looking for so far. This one is no exception. Stay tuned for less unlikely-situation fluff (cuz, WARNING: that's what this is) and more substance in Chapter 2. Chapter 1 is just… something I wanted to write.

Chapter 1

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Liz grabbed the USB drive and shoved it in the pocket of her pants as she dashed out the door of the apartment. She was seriously regretting her decision to let Red talk her into this.

She knew they needed the information; she knew Pyke was a Bad Guy who needed to be stopped. But when the FBI came up against a legal wall in pursuing him, Liz was torn. She still wanted to think of herself as a Good Guy, and to do that she felt like she needed to abide by at least some of the rules. At least most of the time.

But in this particular case, when Red had come to her with a way to get what they needed before Pyke left the country, and with no other available legal options, she decided to let herself be talked into the plan.

The plan which included breaking and entering, theft, and what amounted to international espionage.

The plan which—up until two minutes ago—had been going perfectly. Dressed in black pants and a dark zip-up hoodie that shadowed her face, she'd let herself into the apartment at the address Red had given her. He'd stayed on the street, several doors down, while Dembe took the car around the block. She'd found the files she needed on a laptop and copied them onto the USB drive before noticing the desktop computer to her left had a webcam attached to the top of the monitor. A webcam with a steadily blinking red light.

Someone, somewhere, had seen everything she'd just done.

She grabbed the USB drive and raced to the door of the apartment, yanking it open and flying down the stairs. As she hit the first landing, she collided with a man heading quickly up the stairs, a gun in his right hand. She slammed her shoulder into him as hard as she could, propelling him back against the banister. He dropped his gun, which clattered over the edge and fell out of sight. He leaned down and grabbed a knife from his ankle, and slashed up at Liz as he stood, pushing her back off of him. With a cry, she looked down at her right hand, where blood ran from her palm. She drew the arm back, and rammed forward with her elbow, landing a solid blow on his nose, which Liz assumed she broke, considering the satisfying crunch it made, and the amount of blood that followed. He staggered back, losing his balance on the landing and tumbling backwards down the stairs to the second landing below. He groaned, and rolled onto his side as Liz ran down the stairs and leapt over him, continuing to the large glass front doors of the building.

She burst out onto the street and began sprinting down the sidewalk in the direction she knew Red was waiting for her, scanning the street for Dembe and the car.

Four buildings down, Red stepped from the shadows, startling Liz. "Red!" she hissed, skidding to a stop. "There was a camera. I didn't turn any lights on, I don't think they saw my face, but I ran in to a guy on the stairs, they know I was there, they're coming—"

Red gave a quick look up and down the street.

"Dembe—" Liz started.

"Won't be back in time," Red interrupted, grabbing her arm and dragging her another fifteen feet down the street to the next alley. As they rounded the corner, they heard a door slam up the street. Liz ran down the short alley, horrified to find it was a dead end. Red tried the only two doors that lead into the buildings on either side of them, but found both locked.

"Dammit, Red, there's no place to hide down here!" Liz whispered harshly. "Even the dumpster's locked!" she said, pointing at the padlock keeping them from hiding inside the only other object in the blind alley. Crouching behind it would do no good, either, as it wasn't big enough to hide both of them, and anyone searching the street would surely walk a few steps into the alley to look behind it anyway.

Red swore under his breath and looked back toward the street they'd come from. They could hear the shouts of men along the street. The man Liz had encountered on the stairs obviously had friends now.

Red directed his attention back to Liz, looking her up and down, and quickly strode over to where she stood. He had such a determined look on his face that as he neared her, Liz retreated backwards, confused at his intent. Red reached out and pushed the hood off of Liz's head, and grabbing the front of the garment, he unzipped it quickly and roughly dragged it off her shoulders to reveal a white shirt. He tossed the hoodie to the ground behind the dumpster.

"Red—" Liz protested in shock.

Reddington continued to advance, driving Liz back up against the brick side of the building next to the dumpster. The massive metal bin blocked them from the chest down, but their heads and shoulders were still clearly visible to anyone looking down the alleyway.

Liz held her breath as Red stopped within an inch of her, incredibly close but still no part of him touching her. She searched his face for an explanation, and was rewarded when Red murmured in a low voice, "They haven't seen me yet; they're looking for a woman dressed in black, alone." Red leaned his left forearm against the building and canted his head to that side as if he were kissing her, effectively blocking her face from view.

Liz fought the instinct to tilt her head in the opposite direction as Red, to match the posture usually reserved for a kiss. Why did that impulse feel so obvious? She understood the theories of behavior in this instance: humans instinctively take a hand offered to them to shake, because it's a learned behavior, and isn't a threat to their safety. But mirroring someone's posture when it comes to love or sex takes a much more complex emotional foundation between the two people. She'd reacted reflexively like that when Tom moved to kiss her, but Tom had been her husband, and Red was… not.

Liz swallowed. She stayed stock-still and attempted to keep her breathing regular. But even as she succeeded in holding her head still, her breathing quickened, and her eyes dropped to Red's mouth. Realizing the impression that gave, she dragged her gaze back up to study Red's expression. His face was impassive, his eyes cast down to the curve of her neck, but his lips were parted, and she could see his breaths were coming somewhat faster than normal as well.

It's because of the adrenaline of the chase; the threat of being caught by Pyke's men, Liz reasoned. That's why he's breathing heavily. She shut her eyes and shook her head slightly, correcting herself. That's why we're *both* breathing heavily.

Liz heard movement at the mouth of the alley, and her eyes flicked open toward the sound, looking past Red's face. The backlit shadow of a man rounded the corner and stopped when he saw them. Liz started to say something, but just as she did, Red's right hand closed over her mouth, and he moved his lips to her ear to whisper quietly, "Shhhhh…." Red dropped his head, as if he were kissing her neck, and Liz felt the warmth of his breath across her skin. She tried to concentrate on the approaching danger, and not the way Red's proximity made her—

"Hey!" the man called down the alley.

Liz's stomach dropped. There was no way to hide now that they'd been seen, and the man was sure to approach them. Pinned against the wall as she was, she had no hope of surprising the man and relieving him of the weapon he undoubtedly had.

Liz grabbed Red's hand to pull it away from her mouth, but he was already moving it to her shoulder. "Kneel," he breathed in her ear before he pressed her to the ground in front of him. Liz dropped to one knee, out of sight behind the dumpster. From this position she couldn't be seen, but she also couldn't see.

"Hey! You! You seen a woman around here?"

"Just this one," Red said, pointing down at where Liz knelt. She looked up at him, watched him casually lean an elbow on the edge of the dumpster while he answered the man's question. His other hand moved in front of her face, a single finger held up: Wait a moment. Don't move.

The man seemed to falter, somewhat embarrassed by the situation. "Well…did you see anyone else come down here?"

"Does it look like I chose this alley because there were a lot of people in it?" Red sighed in frustration. "Listen, it's not like this girl is expensive, but I am paying for this, and right now I have to say: you're ruining it." Red looked back down at Liz, as if dismissing the other man.

Liz held Red's gaze for what seemed like an age, but in actuality was mere seconds. There was no sound indicating the man had moved away from them. Liz tried to determine how quickly she could shove forward and shoot around the corner of the dumpster. But what if this wasn't the same man from the building? What if this one wasn't armed? Could she take the chance of identifying herself and demanding he drop any weapon he had? Not without leaving Red completely uncovered. Not breaking eye contact with the man standing above her, she raised her eyebrows, asking silently if she should proceed, and reached to her hip for her gun.

Seeing her movement, Red's eyes slipped closed and he let out a low groan. "Listen, if you want some time with her, come back in fifteen," Red began to pant. "She'll be available then."

The man grimaced, apparently satisfied he wasn't going to find any additional information in this particular alley. "No thanks." He stepped back, regarding Red with some disdain. "You enjoy."

"I plan to," Red said with a touch of bravado, waving his left hand as if shooing away a bothersome fly.

The man turned and jogged back to the street as Red leaned forward again to brace his left hand against the building above Liz. His eyes were still closed, and he was breathing heavily, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration. Liz felt a burn in her chest, and suddenly felt as if continuing to watch his face was too intrusive. She swallowed hard and looked down at the ground, her cheeks flushed and the pounding of her heart seeming to echo in her ears.

When she felt she couldn't bear it any longer, Liz moved to stand, but Red placed a firm hand on the top of her head, forcing her back down. She lost some of her balance, and to avoid pitching into the dumpster to her right, her hand shot out to steady herself, catching his thigh. She felt him jump slightly, but he didn't remove his hand from her head. She stayed crouched, shifting slightly, her ankle complaining about the position she held. Once she felt stable again, she slowly lifted her palm from Red's leg, and braced her fingertips on the wet ground of the alley.

Liz heard a car pull up to the entrance of the alleyway, and a shout. "Hey! Did you check down here?"

"Yeah," came the distant reply. "Just a guy with a hooker."

"What did she look like?"

"Dunno. Dark hair, wearing white."

"Chick who broke my nose's in black. Let's go. She must have gone into one of the other brownstones, but God only knows which one. There's no finding her now. Come on."

Liz continued to kneel, studying the ground. After another long moment, she heard car doors slam, and the car sped away. Liz felt the pressure of Red's hand lift from her head, and she watched as his expensive shoes took several slow steps back from her.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment. When Liz finally lifted her gaze from the ground to Red's face, she found him across the width of the alleyway, staring down at where she crouched in the shadows of the dumpster with a mix of apprehension and apology, as if he were waiting for her to read him the riot act.

Liz remained with one knee on the ground, staring up at Red. She opened her mouth, trying to find the words to… what? Thank him for thinking fast enough to get her out of a possibly no-win scenario fight? Apologize for...? For what? Liz felt like she'd intruded somehow, but couldn't begin to come up with a good way to address the situation.

The soft sound of vibration interrupted Liz's attempts at speech, and Red reached into his jacket and withdrew his cell phone, bringing it to his ear without looking away from Liz. He listened for a moment, then replied, "Yes. The alley four buildings south." He hung up and replaced the phone, his eyes still locked intently with hers. He tilted his head and pursed his lips.

If Liz was honest, she hated when he looked at her with this intensity. Like she was all that mattered in his world, and yet he was still filled with immeasurable sadness. It made her chest ache, and she dismissed the thoughts that sprang to the front of her mind.

"Red, I—"

"Dembe's here," he interrupted as a black car pulled up to the mouth of the alley. He walked back toward Liz, offering her a hand to help her up. When she didn't take it, Red finally broke eye contact to glance down at her hoodie. "That's probably ruined, but we should dump it elsewhere in case they recheck the alley."

Liz nodded and twisted sideways to grab the black fabric with her left hand. The garment was covered in something slimy and she grimaced. "Uggh." She pushed herself to a standing position and walked to the car with Red. He opened the door and gestured for her to get in first. She did, trying not to touch the leather as she scooted across the backseat, giving Red room to sit. As soon as the door shut the car began to move, and Red reached into the front seat to empty the contents of the paper bag that sat next to Dembe onto the passenger seat, and offered the open, empty bag to Liz for her ruined hoodie.

"Thank you," she said quietly, dropping it into the bag, which Red folded closed and returned to the front seat.

As Red sat back, his eyes dropped to his pant leg, which now sported a red hand print from where Liz had steadied herself in the alley. Looking up at Liz with concern, he grabbed her right hand and peeled open her fingers, revealing an angry new gash running through her scar. "You didn't tell me you were hurt," he said harshly.

"It wasn't really relevant," Liz replied defensively. "What were you going to do about it? Besides, it's not like he got an artery—I'll live." She took a moment to study the hand Red still held, and crinkled her nose, thinking about the grime she had just been crouched in. "Though that alley was pretty dirty. Dembe? Can you drop me off at the nearest ER? This needs to be washed out, and I think I'm going to need a few stitches."

"No," Red said sharply. "Head back to the hotel, Dembe, and get Rosa Heredia on the phone; have her meet us there."

"That's not necessary," Liz started.

"If you'd been cut anywhere else, Lizzie, no. It wouldn't be necessary." Red tilted his head and gave Liz a sad smile. "But you decided to go and slice open your scar. So we're going to my hotel, Rosa is going to clean this up, and you and I… are going to have to have a discussion."

…..:::::

By way of an explanation: if any of you have seen the movie Secretary, I was amazed at one scene in particular (no spoilers) that involved almost zero physical contact, but was still incredibly suggestive. Well, okay, frankly graphic. Anyway, this was an exercise in trying to find that balance; my apologies if it just turned out awkward. :/ I've written and rewritten it so many times at this point that I honestly can't tell.

One more chapter, people! And it will have actual discussion and canon-related storyline substance, I promise. Please stop to comment and review before you leave the page! Compliments and constructive criticism are always welcome, and trolls will be petted and probably ignored. ;)