"Red..." Liz began uncertainly.

"Yes, my dear?" Red said evenly, turning his head slightly toward her.

Liz hesitated. She glanced sideways at Red, who was sitting in the passenger seat of her car, then looked back to the road ahead. They were currently on the highway, heading back to the field office in Washington.

"Lizzie?"

"When did you drug me?"

Red's mouth twitched into his trademark smirk, "A few weeks ago, an associate of mine formulated a new sedative and gave me some samples of that, among other things."

"While you stepped out of the restaurant to report in with Donald, I mixed a dose into your drink," he added, pulling a small empty glass bottle out of his jacket's inner pocket. Red still found it amusing that Lizzie always ordered an Aviation cocktail whenever they dined together.

Liz blinked, "I assume there's no point in asking why?"

Red chuckled, shaking his head.

"None at all, Lizzie."

Liz sighed in exasperation. "What are the symptoms?"

"You tell me," Red said, turning to face Liz.

She considered the question. "I've had a headache since we left the restaurant, and I started feeling lightheaded about ten minutes ago, though it's been getting worse in the last five minutes." Liz knew better than to argue with Red and, even though she would never admit it out loud, she did have reason to trust him. Not that she did trust him, but he had saved her life more than a few times in the past eleven months working together. On the other hand, many of those times he had been the one to put her life at risk in the first place.

"I estimate you have approximately ten minutes left of consciousness. Fifteen at the most. You should consider stopping the car soon," Red stated clinically.

Liz figured yes, it probably would be better to pull over sooner rather than later. Yet, she had the rebellious urge to keep driving.

"I'll take my chances with the highway," Liz decided after a minute, ignoring the light tremors in her hands that travelled up her arms.

"Lizzie, I think you should pull over."

"You know what, Reddington? I don't give a damn what you think!" Liz snapped.

Red took a measured breath, "Over the years, throughout my travels, I have encountered many unique individuals who have taught me assorted techniques in the art of coercion. I can count at least seven ways in which I can force you to pull over this car. Would you like me to show you?"

Liz winced, but said nothing.

"I would really prefer not to hurt you Lizzie, but you're not leaving me much choice here," Red sighed, lifting his hand to rest on Liz's shoulder. Liz tried to shrug him off, but he refused to move.

"There are various pressure points all over the human body, most of which can be manipulated to cause pain." Liz was leaning away from Red, but his grip on her shoulder tightened.

"This one however," his thumb lightly brushed the spot just above her collar bone, "Is said to be excruciating. Shall we test that theory?"

"No," Liz said quickly, already signalling to pull over to the side of the highway.

"Good girl," Red murmured, taking his hand off her shoulder.

Once she had stopped the car, she leaned back in her seat and turned to Red.

"Now what?"

"Now, we swap seats. Unless, of course, you'd rather fall asleep there and make me drag you into the trunk. I really don't mind."

Liz slowly unbuckled her seatbelt, and opened her door. She blinked, and Red was crouched on the grass next to her, with an amused smirk on his face. He had one hand at the side of her head, his other clasped around her wrist.

"Wh-appened?" Liz demanded, narrowing her eyes at Red, who had let go of her wrist and was cradling her face in both hands.

"You almost fell out of the car, Lizzie," Red chided, "Would you like to sleep in the front or the back?"

"Front."

He stared into her eyes for a moment longer before swiftly standing up and offering his hand. Liz reluctantly took it. Red pulled Liz up and out of the car, only to have her legs crumple under her, making her fall toward the ground. He dropped down to the ground with her, and gently lifted her head to look at him.

"You'll need to help me out if that's at all possible," he quipped.

"Mmh," Liz groaned, closing her eyes.

Red nodded. "Alright then," he muttered, placing one arm behind Liz's back and pulling her into a seated position. He hooked his other arm behind her knees and stood, deftly picking her up in the way he once carried his own daughter to bed, eliciting a surprised yelp from Liz.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Lizzie," he said teasingly, adjusting his hold of her so her head lolled back to rest against his chest.

After making his way to the passenger side door, Red carefully pushed Liz into the front seat, holding her limp head up with a hand under her chin while he reclined the seat slightly. He leaned over and buckled up her seatbelt. Liz watched Red do this, being too weak and tired to bother protesting. It reminded her of when she was kidnapped by the Stewmaker, barely a month after they had met. She had been completely helpless, and he had come to her rescue. She remembered the gentle way he lifted her feet onto the footrest of the wheelchair, the soft smile he gave her while he reassured her that she would be okay, a light hand on her head, urging her to rest.

And here it was again, Red carefully guiding her legs into the car, looking up to see her watching him, smiling, not smirking. A palm on her forehead. His eyes seemed to beg her to trust him.

How could she ever trust him? He's a criminal. That single word that everyone labelled Raymond Reddington with. I'm a criminal, and criminals are notorious liars, he said so himself. So why was he so concerned with her welfare? Did he truly care, or was there an ulterior motive? Did he want to lull her into a false sense of security? Too many questions.

After Red was satisfied that Liz wasn't going to fall out of the car again, he placed her limp arms on her stomach, and shut the car door.

He slid into the driver's seat and started the car, before glancing over at the lax body next to him. Lizzie was staring blankly over the steering wheel.

"You must be exhausted, Lizzie, go to sleep."

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, tears misting them.

"Everything will be okay," he promised.

"Why should I trust you?" she asked softly.

"You shouldn't," Red conceded, nodding, "But you can. Go to sleep."

Liz's eyes drifted shut.

Red pulled back onto the highway, humming softly to himself. He reached over Lizzie's legs to blindly search his leather bag, quickly finding his small music player. Swiftly plugging it in, he selected shuffle, and smirked at the song that started playing.

...Please allow me to introduce myself,

I'm a man of wealth and taste.

I've been around for a long, long year,

Stole many a man's soul and faith...

Red glanced over at Lizzie. He had faith that she would serve her role well in their next venture. This blacklister would be a tricky one, he was Red's closest associate, almost close enough to be a friend. He also knew about Red's deal with the FBI, which complicated matters. Therefore, Red would have to play the double agent who had been getting intel from the FBI, and now, escaping their grasp with one of their own agents hostage.

It would be easier for Lizzie to not know of the plan. She needed to play the hostage. She was a fighter, though Red still had a feeling of unease that twisted his stomach whenever he placed her in danger. Necessary danger.

"You'll be fine," he murmured to Lizzie, reaching over to rest his hand lightly on her head. It was a gesture of reassurance, for both Lizzie and himself.

...As heads is tails, just call me Lucifer,

Cause I'm in need of some restraint...

Red smirked as he hummed along to the song, driving into the late afternoon sun to their destination.

AN: Thank you for reading! This was originally intended to be a one shot, but I'm curious to see where I can take it. I can't promise regular updates, but I'll aim for one chapter a fortnight. I do have a basic plan of where it is going, but, life happens and things get prioritised over writing.

I absolutely adore James Spader and Megan Boone, and I hope I portrayed their characters accurately. Also, I'm Australian, so while I've tried to use all American English (trunk instead of boot, signal instead of indicator) some Australian terms may slip through. Please let me know if you find any errors, and I'll happily fix them.

The lyrics are from 'Sympathy for the Devil' by the Rolling Stones. This song was played at the beginning of Episode 2 - "The Freelancer". It's a great song and I think it suits Red perfectly.

I posted this story over on the Archive (archive of our own) under the same username; RedJr, and created this account so I could post it here too.