Disclaimer: Sad story, Lizzie and Red are not mine. Seriously show writers… WTF?! In my heart… Lizzington sails.

Big thanks to my beta. 3

A/N: I'm apologizing in advance. I'm a terrible multichapter writer. It takes me ages updating a story. Kinda the reason I usually write one shots. But bear with me, I promise to try getting better with that.

~ I always write while listening to music. Usually one specific song inspires most of the story. The song becomes the title of the fanfic, regardless if the lyrics fit or not. This time I watched a gif of THE SCENE. The overly sexy scene… and boom! When writing later „Beautiful Crime" by Tamer started playing and my fingers couldn't stop flowing over the keyboard. So here we are. ~

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Beautiful Crime

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The air seemed to be loaded with sizzling flames, though it was silent as he was entering the motel room, towering over her, letting his gaze fall upon her bare legs and moving his eyes to meet with hers. His posture was possessive like the predator cherishing his prey before he goes in for the kill, but there was a calmness within the claim for he never touched her. Only his eyes travelled where his hands could glide over her inner thigh, along her abdomen and chest, right up to her chin.

"What do you want? What do you really want?" Deep and rich, his voice was like raw honey in her ears and goose bumps arose deep under her skin. A tingle in her neck, a flutter in her belly and her throat unable to make sound. His mimic a mix of interest and indifference as he approached her undeterred. And she watched him silently, following his stare, following his steps and closing the distance between them, with her body trapped on the bed.

She felt like a deer facing the headlights of a car, unable to move away, calculating if it was more dangerous to remain or to flee. As if he had locked her in handcuffs, she was bound to still in her movement. Except her legs went up to get away from him, exposing more skin and therefore inviting him further. It was an endless loop she couldn't get out of. Over and over as he watched her squirm, never moving a muscle in his face, never allowing her to see what his true intentions were. And she felt powerless. His long lashes hiding well what he intended to do with her.

Her heart was racing when she first awoke from this dream. Her breathing erratic to cool her down for her bed sheets were covered in sweat. The second time had been no different and by the third time she had to take a shower in the middle of the night to collect her thoughts. Every time it felt so real, the fourth, fifth and sixth time as well. Now she didn't count anymore, because now it haunted her every single night. And it seemed ages ago that she had slept a night through.

In the beginning she had brushed it off as stress. Her and Reddington had worked around the clock, catching drug lords, child abusers and uncovering an organ transplantation smuggle ring. Going undercover as various characters might have led to inappropriate thoughts in her subconscious mind.

But as the stress fell off and she took a vacation, the dream continued to follow her into her sleep. And all her excuses dissolved into nothing. Frustration soon turned into annoyance and annoyance later into anger. Anger towards herself and anger towards Reddington. How could she think of him that way? How could her mind put him in such a compromising situation with her. How could he say the one thing and mean the other when she was awake? How could he care so deeply but never answer why?

The truth was that a big part of her still despised him for all he had done to her life. Withholding the truth whenever it pleases him, collecting what he wants, just like in her dream, asking an unnecessary question. But her draw towards him always remained, even when she had hated him. Like a moth to the flame she would follow him into the dark. And it scared her for it had found a way into her sleep.

Her cheeks burned red thinking about his gaze upon her exposed body. And she felt ashamed again and disrespectful, for the other part of her knew there was a plan behind his motives. She knew he would risk everything. Everything, just for her.

She had long accepted she couldn't stop the dream from forming inside her head when her eye fell close. It was hard to do so as well when she was awake, for the images were strong and her body weak, reacting to the now familiar scene. And when he was in front of her in flesh and blood talking about a blacklister they needed to stop, her heart, the traitor, picked up its beating, clamping her throat shut tightly. Her hands would start trembling when having to touch him, taking something out of his fingers and eye contact was no longer possible for the unwanted arousal was no longer hidden.

Like the roots of a tree this dream grew deep into her subconscious mind, always alert of the presence of the man who played such an important role in its wake.

"Elisabeth, are you alright?" he would ask on more than just one occasion and she lied and nodded, made excuses feeling under the weather and sometimes even popped a pill for a headache she didn't have. He would watch her then, with furrowed brows before continuing with their plan to stop the people on his list, never questioning her odd behaviour further.

Of course it was harder when they went undercover, playing different characters from lovers to business partners to sworn enemies. She had to spend more time with him then without being just herself, battling her conflicting emotions while continuing dreaming the dream that drained her sanity.

Then one day it happened. It became impossible to ignore her attraction any longer, as her dream-self began to observe the man in the fedora closer. Knowing where he would look, as her dream-self tried to get away from his approach. And the lines had started to blur completely as she began enjoying his look at her calves, almost wishing his fingers would touch where her legs guided them to be. And she could suddenly answer his question.

It was the moment she had known she had fallen, hard for the person pursuing her in her dream. She wanted him, even though she wished she didn't. And that from now on, the dream would leave her waking up in tears rather than heat, for she yearned for his presence, his touch and his words of devotion. She would miss him, and long for his return when he wasn't beside her.

Absent, she packed her clothes for the next case. Reddington had said it would take them the whole weekend. And she signed at the task of pretending that everything was fine with her. It was not a choice, rather natural, that nothing could happen between the two of them. She couldn't allow herself to feel anything. It was forbidden for all the right reasons, and she might jeopardize everything they had worked out at this point. And why would he want her anyway? In his eyes she was child. In his mind this must be hideous.

So she would smile like always and shake her head when he asked if something was wrong. She would think of all the horrible things he had done in his life, to keep her forgiving heart at bay. And she would continue to do so as long as it took her to work through this foolish idea of fiction in her head.

The room he sat in was dark. Only a small lamp in the far corner cast some shadows in the otherwise poorly lit apartment. His chair was facing the window, where he watched the endless rain wash away the last remains of summer. Dead leaves were ripped off their branches from the wind that accompanied the rain. And in the distance a thunder could be heard, for it was all silent around him. His glass of scotch was his only friend in this hour, numbing the thoughts that disturbed his peace of mind.

It hadn't taken him long to notice that something was wrong with her. And less than a week to figure out the why. He was quick to pick up with changes, because usually she was an open book to him. And this time was not different. The truth was always visible the moment she tried hiding it, even if her conscious mind wasn't aware of it yet.

But he had not been prepared for what he had discovered. Yet all signs were clearly there. A flinch when he came too close to her, her looking the other way when her cheeks pooled in a rosy pink, finding excuses when they weren't needed, watching his lips, rather than following his eyes as he briefed her on the next case.

He knew that she had fallen for him, even before she did herself. And it weighted hard on both of them, for when she finally caught up on the epiphany she became silent and sad.

No meetings on the park benches anymore, just phone calls, less than necessary. And he fought to call her out it, like she fought to shake the desire off. He knew that too, she wanted to silence her feelings as much as he did, given their history. It was out of the question, not worth the thought, but somewhere in the middle of trying she had given up, as if it was something she couldn't change anymore. And it worried him for he couldn't fix this for her.

From the beginning of their journey it had been clear, that he would remain in the background and stay as far out of her personal life as possible. He would guide her in her quest, provide help, protect her and watch from afar as she caught the bad people from his list. He would only pull the strings when needed while keeping her safe and out of trouble. This had been his oath. To himself and to her mother. A promise that could never be broken.

And it had worked until one day their paths had become too interwoven and life had made it impossible not to interfere. It was too dangerous for her on her own. Yet the consequences had been devastating. He had lost her trust after ending Sam's life and he had lost it again revealing Tom's true intentions. Fight after fight arose between them and he had vowed to himself another promise: He would just be whatever she needed him to be, not more. She was to decide which role he would play in her life, big or small, it didn't matter. She had become too important to him.

So he was often her mentor or a partner in crime; if things went well a dear friend and if the times called for it, he would be the person she could blame everything on. A shoulder to cry on or the men to disappear from her life forever, if she asked him to. And this had been their routine. So never, never would he have entertained the thought that she would choose him to be much more. Nor would he tolerate it for that matter. It would make both him and her vulnerable and it felt just wrong to the core. An old hack chasing monsters, a servant of the dark stealing away one of the most searched girls in history, the exact one he promised to guard with his life.

Night after night he had now watched the rain fall, yet no solution had come to him. Should he stay or leave, he wasn't sure. Neither felt right and neither felt wrong. The voice in his head undecided. Just once he had almost obeyed the command, booked a ticket and flew away to leave. Almost. Because he had turned around right away when hearing about her misery from Aram. Not that she would tell anyone why. This was their secret, separately.

His eyes narrowed starring into the empty space between the mists. His glass of scotch half gone. It burned down his throat and he welcomed the feeling. It was simple, and straight. Not like her feelings, or his for that matter.

It wasn't that he didn't love her. Of course he did, how could he not? It was burned into the skin of his back forever. But not like that. It was complicated. More than she could ever imagine. He had loved her mother and he would have died for her but he hadn't been worthy enough. How would it be different with the daughter?

He was a soldier made by wrong choices and very dangerous, for he knew which secrets should never be heard from ever again. And he was a disturbance that turned her life upside down. Necessary but not important for who she was. And her innocence made it impossible for him think about desire. She was everything right in his world: warm, soft, impulsive, forgiving and it was endearing to him when she connected the dots that others had missed to crack the case. A romance between them would be like ice and fire. And it was as simple as that she deserved better. It was not right that the lamb was drawn to the wolf who had slaughtered so many and pursued it to follow him into shady woods now.

But what was he about to do? Was there anything that could be done? Why did she have that sudden change of feelings? When did antipathy turn into want?

He didn't know, and all that rain would provide no answer.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. How long could they keep on pretending everything was fine? It felt like the calm right before storm.

A lightning turned the night sky white and his thoughts stopped circling for just a second. He sighed and emptied the glass. This was a disaster. Especially since they were about to go undercover. Taking out a Russian spy. Nothing out of the ordinary, except the mission would take them 3 days. Three days without their routine. Three days where she couldn't run off. Three days of him watching her in misery.

"Dembe," He called. "Would you pour me another drink, please."

tbc...