I love you all, and I own nothing!
Special shout out to Madi! I couldn't do it without you!
It occurs to Liz as she clutches Raymond Reddington to her in the dark, filthy hull of the fishing boat, that the cologne that announces Red's presence in her world before she ever actually glimpses him, pales in comparison to what it masks.
Under the robust, slightly tangy aroma of the scent that Liz is unable to find in any men's department of any department store, a different scent lingers. A wild, musky fragrance permeates through the collar of his well-tailored shirt and beckons her to press her face closer to the source. His neck is warm and inviting, and before Liz's mind can run the gamut of excuses not to, she nuzzles into his skin, acutely aware of his arms moving to cradle her back, his grip tightening instinctively.
She breathes him in, tentatively at first, then finds herself inhaling him, like hits of a drug that soothes her injured pride and broken heart. If he knows what she's doing he doesn't let on. A deep breath against her hair makes her wonder if he isn't doing the exact same thing.
Closing her eyes, she tries to forget the dank, heavy feel of the room and the hopelessness of the situation by trying to suss out the combination of aromas that made up the fragrance she is quickly growing addicted to. The clean scent of the the soap he uses is the first thing that stands out to her. She had bought that exact same soap for Tom once, and now she finds herself relieved that he had hated it. There is enough confusion in her life. No need to draw parallels between the man that destroyed her and the man who doesn't seem to mind holding her until she is ready to let go.
Over the cleanliness of the soap, there is something else that Liz cannot quite place, something wild and free and out of her grasp. For a maddening second, she thinks that if she could bottle the wind, this is what it would smell like.
The soft sway of the ocean starts to grow more intense, and Liz clutches Red tighter until she realizes that it is not the ocean swaying, but Red himself, swaying from side to side, rocking her as if she is a child, but she doesn't want that.
She doesn't want him to stop, either.
Liz can't remember the last time someone held her this close, loving her, rocking away the hurt and the pain, but yes...yes, she can. She buries her face deeper into his neck and feels it in her soul that she's gone crazy when she begins to smells scents that simply aren't there...scents that invade her dreams and bring her to tears in he dead of night. Panic, fear, and desperation...she could smell these emotions, even if she couldn't see them in his eyes that night...the man who was so brave for her.
The rocking motion never steadies as Red seems to sense her train of thought. In fact, he pulls her closer, rocking faster, as if to derail that particular train. It is to no avail. The most he can do is hold her as she regresses into a long-forgotten past, where fire consumes everything, and fathers perish into the flames. He holds her as she struggles against the stranger who is only trying to help her, even though he is hurt so much worse than she is. He holds her as she remembers the screams of a little girl whose world was burning down around her. He holds her tighter still as the screams die away and all that's left is...smoke.
The smoke still suffocates, even though it faded into the wind long ago. It lingers in every facet of Liz's life, stinging in the back of her throat when she speaks, filling her lungs when she breathes. It is everywhere, but mostly prevalent when Red turns his attention to her. When he looks at her...when he touches her...it's there, swirling around her although she can't find the flames. And when her fingers slip under his collar to caress the skin hidden from view, she feels the uneven textures and finally knows why.
In that moment, she knows the truth.
She knows the truth, but it doesn't matter.
She knows the truth and holds on anway.