Summary:
A destitute Raymond Reddington is homeless, resides on the cold, snowy streets. Elizabeth Keen passes him every day, until she cannot ignore him any longer...
Alternate Universe, Homelessness, Drinking, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Romance Angst, Smut.
Notes:
Following my own prompt in the Lunchbox FB group, this story was supposed to be a christmas one-shot, but rl kept me from finishing this in time. So this is just the first part.
Thank you to heaterpeters for the real quick beta despite being super busy with christmas preparations.
Merry Christmas everyone! :)
Home For The Holidays
It was the beginning of December and Liz noted how particularly cold the season had started his year when she stepped from the train. Her voyage to and from work included a subway ride, followed by a ten-minute walk through the heart of downtown Washington D.C. The temperature had dropped to 25 F overnight and she walked with her head down, wishing her office would be a little closer to the subway stop.
As with most large cities, the homeless population often resided on downtown corners, asking pedestrians for their spare change. Liz had learned to ignore the nameless faces who begged for money each day as she continued walking. Her limited life experience had let her to the assumption that they lived on the streets because they choose to be, probably due to drugs or alcohol. It was their own fault and clearly not her responsibility to help.
The first time she noticed him when she passed the usual mob, he was sitting against a building, wrapped in several layers of dirty clothing, holding a white paper cup in front of him.
"Spare some change?" he asked. "I would really appreciate it."
The deep gravel in his voice sent chills racing along her limbs and she didn't even bother to look up, but hurried past him without acknowledgment.
He still sat at the same spot on her way home. Ignoring him completely as she walked by, she quickened her steps, her boots echoing on the cobbled stone street.
######
When she saw him again the next morning she purposely crossed the street. It was ridiculous really, but there was something about him that always left her with an uneasy and unsettling feeling whenever she spotted him, more so than any of the other homeless persons did. It also didn't help that he would look up the exact moment she rushed past him, regardless how early or late she'd been; his gaze would follow her until she was out of sight.
After a week, she contemplated traveling to work by car for a while just to avoid him, hoping he would move on to another part of the city. By then, she'd had enough; the entire issue was blatantly absurd and she refused to let herself become intimidated by him.
The next time she walked past him, his hands were busy assembling and constructing little figures out of wire and plastic, but of course he noticed her when her eyes became level with his.
He looked up and was about to say something when she angrily cut him off before he had the chance to open his mouth.
"I have no money on me, ok!?"
She didn't see it coming. In her haste to retreat, she managed to find the only icy path on the sidewalk, and consequently, slipped and fell, hitting her head on the curb.
Blood tickled from her forehead as people brushed past her, no one bothering to help. Pain seared through her, then rendered her unconscious.
When she woke up a few minutes later his large hands carefully cradled her head.
"Are you all right?" he asked, his gruff voice only inches above her. Tilting his head, his concerned eyes met hers.
He looked scruffy; thin and pale, with a long beard and scraggly long hair. He had perfect white teeth though which was unusual for many of the homeless living on the streets. His hands were slightly calloused but his fingernails were remarkably clean too. Liz did sniff the faintest smell of alcohol on his breath however, affirming her notion.
Her eyes began to well up with tears as she struggled to get up.
"No sweetheart, please don't move. The paramedics will be here any moment."
Nausea rose in her throat and the pain in her head seemed to intensify. She groaned as she closed her eyes and held on to his coat.
"Hey, stay with me a while longer, will you?
"I'm Raymond. What's your name?"
"Eliza…beth."
Blood started to trickle down her cheeks, mixing with her tears.
"That's a nice name.
"I know you're in pain. That was a nasty blow to your head, but you'll be fine, Elizabeth. I promise."
The ambulance siren wailed in the distance and he smiled down at her.
"See, they're coming for you."
He held her head until the paramedics arrived and took over, ushering him away.
They checked to see her condition before strapping her to the gurney and placing her in the ambulance.
Raymond pensively watched the ambulance barrel away before he returned to his spot and sat back down on a pile of flattened cardboard boxes. Searching for the bottle of whiskey among his spare belongings, he took a long huge sip, savored the warming sensation of the fluid, then reached for the wire in front of him to resume his work.
#####
In the hospital, Liz learned that she had suffered a mild concussion. A neurologist told her that an MRI of her brain hadn't revealed any significant damage and after conducting several neurological tests, he declared that Liz had been very lucky to escape the fall with no major ill effects. The nasty gash across her forehead was dressed up in a nice clean bandage and she had to remain in the hospital for observation.
She rested and recovered, but her thoughts would always drift back to the homeless man. She didn't know what emotion to attach to the storm of feelings he raised in her. He made her angry, he made her sad, he made her frustrated. And confused. She inevitably had felt like walking in his shoes the moment she had lain helplessly on the cold sidewalk. No one had cared. No one had wanted to help - Except him, and she was mortified by her previous behavior towards him.
######
She went looking for him a week later. He still resided at the same spot. She watched him for a while from afar, as if confused as to what to make of him. He handed out the small figures he was crafting whenever someone would put some money into his paper cup.
Liz frowned when he raised a bottle of whiskey and took a deep, hearty gulp. For some reason, that bothered her. She decided he needed a hot drink instead, to warm him. She found a small coffee shop around the corner where she purchased a generous cup of coffee and a large muffin. He really should eat something.
He rose to his feet and smiled as he watched her approach. He brushed along his coat in an unconscious gesture, as if it would help to improve his appearance. Seeing her was like a ray of light in his dark world.
Liz walked up to him, though hesitantly at first. His smile immediately cut through her reserve and she came to stand next to him.
"Hi, Raymond."
"Elizabeth, how are you?"
Her forehead was still heavily bruised and swollen, dark purple marks colored her skin. She watched his face and saw his pained expression. He reached out with a tentative hand, but pulled back before he actually touched her.
"I'm okay, I suffered a concussion. I'm taking a few more days off from work though."
Standing so close, she took her time to really look at him. Raymond was an attractive man, maybe in his late forties, maybe a bit older, but it was hard to tell with his long beard, long unkempt hair and the layers of dirt covering his face.
There was something in his voice, in his eyes, the way he was watching her, waiting for her to answer. He also seemed to see right through her, slicing away her antipathy.
"I came to thank you."
She handed him the coffee and the small paper bag with the muffin inside, observing how his eyes lit up in gratitude.
"Thank you for taking care of me when I needed it, Raymond."
"Ah, don't mention it."
He bent down and picked up one of his handmade figures. It was a small angel, completely constructed out of wire and golden plastic wrap.
"This is for you, Elizabeth… because we all need an angel in our lives."
######
They greeted and smiled at each other every morning from that day forward. She was usually late on her way to work and didn't have time to talk, but every afternoon on her way back home she would stop by. She usually brought him a coffee, sometimes a pastry as well. He admitted to having a sweet tooth and she enjoyed watching him literally moaning in delight from the taste of marzipan, chocolate, custard and cinnamon.
She never gave him money, suspecting it would just support his daily whiskey intake. She wasn't comfortable with that issue at all.
######
The weather forecast predicted another cold front, with several inches of snow to follow within the next few days. Cutting icy wind blew from the east and the temperatures dropped even more.
Liz wondered how he would sustain let alone survive those awful conditions without a home. On one particularly freezing afternoon she got in her car and went looking for him, armed with a blanket, hot tea and food.
She found him near his usual spot, huddled up in a doorway, unsuccessful as he sought shelter from the cold. His coat was covered in snow and he shivered in the frigid air. In his hand, he held a half-empty bottle of whiskey. Her heart sank to see him in such a sad state and she lowered the window and called out for him to join her in the car.
######
They sat together with the car running and the heater on, trying to dry him out and warm him up.
He sipped the tea and nibbled at a croissant. He was pretty drunk and reeked of booze and dirty wet clothes.
They sat in silence for a long time, watching the snowflakes swirling in the wind. Christmas decorations and lights twinkled in the street, giving off a peaceful winter glow.
"Would you like to spend Christmas with me, Raymond?"
He paused and looked at her intently, questioning her motives.
"It certainly is sweet of you to care about me, Elizabeth. But only two weeks ago, you were changing the side of the street to avoid me. Now you bring me food almost every day, you picked me up with your car so I won't freeze to death and now you invited me to spend Christmas with you? Why?"
"You were my knight in shining armor."
"You fell because you wanted to get away from me."
"And yet, despite the rejection you were there. You helped. You did what was right. You didn't care how I treated you, how misjudged and prejudiced I was. You just helped."
"And now you feel like you need to make it up to me? Because you feel remorse?"
"Yes, … I mean no," Liz sighed.
"I don't want your pity, Elizabeth."
Raymond raised his voice, displeased.
"Or your food. Or your care."
Whether she understood the sudden source of his bad mood or not, his words hurt, making her throat constrict and her chest tighten.
"Then what do you need? Money for your next bottle of whiskey?"
The cold mocking immediately fell from his face and was replaced by regret when he watched her grow angry and defensive, fighting back tears.
"Three years ago, my wife died of cancer. I held her in my arms and watched the life disappear from her eyes. I've never been the same since. I started to drink. After giving up work, alcohol became an obsession. I just couldn't go out anymore without having had a drink, I used to drink through the night, I used to drink first thing in the morning.
"I didn't pay rent for our apartment anymore, so eventually I was evicted. I ended up living on the street, despite all the money I inherited from my wife. It's in a bank account and I've never touched it.
"I got to the point where I wanted to end my miserable life, but I didn't have the courage to pull the trigger or drink myself to death.
"Over the years, I've learned to deal with the pain and loss, but I never could control my drinking problem and I lost all sense of a normal life.
"I'm an alcoholic and you were right in your prejudice, Elizabeth. You shouldn't mess around with things that are better left alone."
Liz didn't know when she'd started crying, or for how long, but the tears that stung her eyes fell down her cheeks with unchecked force.
"I better leave now."
Raymond opened the door and stepped out of the car. He slowly shuffled back through the snow to his place in the doorway. He felt like crying himself, already a tear was trembling on his cheek. He had felt so alone and lonely for such a long time. Like a dry sponge he had soaked up her attention, let it soothed his soul. But it was better this way. Less complicated. He tried to steady his breathing and resolved himself to the inevitable—a very long, cold and sleepless night.
Liz stared after him and made no attempt to drive away. No, she wouldn't let him go just like this. She got out of the car and followed him. When she had caught up with him she spun him around to face her.
"You said we all need an angel in our lives. I want to be the one in yours, Raymond!"
He looked at her speechless, willed his eyes to focus. They watered instead, and he blinked. Once. Twice.
"Would you like to spend Christmas with me?"
She had to ask him again.
"Yes," he croaked at last. "I'd like that very much."
Her radiant answering smile stole his breath away.
"I'll pick you up then. And now allow me to drive you to the next shelter."
TBC