Sam had taken her on boats before. One of the few father-daughter excursions they had had together were to Lake McConaughy, a lake about four hours from Omaha. Those outings weren't enough to prepare her queasy stomach. There was a raging storm outside, and it was making the boat lurch and it sent her stomach rolling. A boat, whose crew for which Red had generously paid to smuggle them out of Australia. The boat lurched again, and Lizzie covered her mouth, willing herself not to get sick.
Even if the storm hadn't been rocking the boat, Lizzie was certain her stomach would still be lurching; this crew wasn't exactly the friendliest looking. She had caught a couple of them leering at her, but then suddenly they looked away, petrified. She grinned when she realized Red had simply glanced in their direction and they looked like they had wet themselves. While she didn't always need the protection, she certainly appreciated that Red would always be there for her when she needed him. They wouldn't be here if that wasn't true.
Lizzie looked around the small cabin once more. There was barely any room to walk around, let alone have a sense of privacy and a closet served as the bathroom. One bed, whose size barely qualified for a bunk, and it scratchy looking sheets. A rust covered window; not that the view mattered much, you could only see ocean for miles and for the last few days there were clouds covering the whole sky. There was a small desk with maps strewn haphazardly on it, and lamplight that was blinking.
She placed her jacket across the back of the chair, and sat on the bed, it sunk in the middle. She had to shift until she could sit without feeling like she was in a sinkhole. Rubbing her temples, she didn't even register that Red had come back into the room. She jumped a little when he sat down next to her, he was grinning when she looked up at him. "Where are we going again?"
"Jakarta. A friend of mine recently vacated his mansion due to a dispute with the Russian mob. He won't be missing it for a while, plus he owes me a favor."
She nodded. "What's after this?"
"A couple of days to relax, then I'll take you to Kuala Lumpur-"
"I meant," she let out a humorless laugh, "Are we running for the rest of our lives? Or is there a plan?"
They looked at each other for what seemed like ages, and she realized he was giving her the same look he had given her before. The look that said he was about to be brutally honest, the same look he had given when she confronted him about Sam. He reached for her hand, and rubbed his thumb across her scar; almost instantly she felt soothed, while simultaneously feeling a tingle go down her spine.
"For now we run. When we find a way to take down the Cabal, then we can go back. And maybe then I won't have failed you." She was about to protest when he handed her a nightgown. "We should get some sleep. You take the bed, I'll find a way to make that chair comfortable."
"No. We can share the bed. It's not like we haven't dealt with close quarters before. Not after…" She trailed off. He nodded. He knew what night she was talking about. Their first kiss, and everything that had followed it.
"Alright."
She made her way to the bathroom. Did he honestly think he had failed her? This wasn't the first time he'd said something similar. How did she make him understand that she didn't need him to be her sin-eater anymore?
A month ago, she wouldn't have thought twice about him saying something like that, but now? Now, without actually having had sex, they were more intimate than she would have originally thought possible. In no previous relationship had she ever felt more secure, relaxed or loved. They hadn't said the words to each other, she wasn't sure if she was ready to, but truth be told she wasn't sure that they needed to be said.
She knew the truth now, and wanted to shield him from it. He'd protected her enough over the last twenty-six years; fat chance of him ever stopping though. She supposed, she would just have to do what she could to protect him, whilst he protected her; she cared for him that much. Hell, she had killed to protect him. More than once.
Her mind drifted to five weeks ago:
A week after running, they were staying in an obscure hotel, in a town that she couldn't remember the name of, not that she cared. They stayed in the same room, separate beds, and later that night she had been awoken by Red. She'd been having a nightmare. The same one she'd had for twenty-six years, smoke, fire, and being lost.
Red had sat on the edge of her bed, gently shaking her shoulders. Her eyes flew open, saw him leaning over her, and she shrank deeper into the mattress. She didn't mind Red holding her, or even kissing her forehead, but having him suddenly sitting in her bed was a surprise. When she realized he wasn't moving, or doing anything that she would slap him for, she relaxed. She shifted and sat up, bringing her knees to her chest. She didn't bother rearranging the sheets, she was wearing a t-shirt and boy shorts; everything vital was covered after all.
"You okay?" He whispered, and he reached out and took her right hand. It was then that Lizzie realized she was trembling. His thumb gently caressed her scar, and she squeezed his hand.
"I'll be okay." She lied. She'd had that nightmare at least once a year, and when she was stressed it became more vivid.
"You were dreaming about the fire weren't you?"
Having caught her in the lie, she saw no point in continuing it. "Yeah. It happens at least once a year. For a solid week, sometimes less, I have the same dream. Smoke, fire. Being scared out of my mind. And I'm always carrying the stuffed rabbit."
"It's always around this time isn't it?" She thought about it, and nodded. He tucked a stay hair behind her ear, his hand lingered there for longer than necessary; but she found she didn't mind and leaned her head into his touch as she nodded. "Tomorrow is the anniversary."
"What?" Whenever she tried to get him to talk about the fire, he clamped up. Then she realized he was trying to comfort her, make the nightmares go away.
"Tomorrow, twenty-six years will have passed since that night. I've tried like hell to forget, but I get nightmares around this time too. Puts a hell of a damper on my sleep cycle." He let his hand drop, she instantly missed it.
"Thank you."
"For?"
"Waking me up."
The silence started to feel heavy. He glanced out the window. She noticed she was staring at his lips, and wondering what it would be like to not only feel them on her forehead, or on her hair. Now that she thought about it, she'd been wondering that for a while now. She leaned forward, not quite sure what she was doing, but knew she had to do it.
He must have felt her moving and quickly turned his head. Lizzie didn't stop, she couldn't now. Chastely at first, she placed her lips on his, and he stiffened, but he didn't pull away. Lizzie took this as a good thing and grasped the back of his head. She knew this was insane, he would probably push her back, and they would leave it at that.
Lizzie pressed her lips firmly against his, willing him to make the next move. When he started to respond to her though, she felt her heart stop. He brought his hands up to frame her face, and when his tongue found its way into her mouth, she moaned. There were no words to describe how he tasted other than power, and sex. They continued their lazy tango of tongues until Red pulled away.
"I should let you sleep." He kissed her once more, then moved back to his bed. She tried in vain to not feel his absence.
The next night, the anniversary, the nightmares returned. When she woke up panting, in a sheen of cold sweat, she went to the bathroom and downed a glass of water. She finally stopped shaking, and crept back into the room. She laid back down, and couldn't stop fidgeting. She looked over at Red, who looked like he was sleeping peacefully. Damn him.
Standing, she walked to the other side of the bed. He was sleeping on his side, and if she wasn't mistaken, he was snoring ever so lightly. As if he knew he was being watched, he rolled to the other side.
"Lizzie?" He voice was a bit croaky from sleep. He rolled back over and made eye contact. He rapidly blinked and sat up. "What's wrong?"
"I," she faltered. She couldn't finish the sentence, and looked pleading at him, begging him not to make her say it and sound like a big child.
"Can't sleep?"
She nodded, and let out a breath. "Yeah."
He patted the pillow next to him. She felt her eyes widen, and he chuckled. "Lizzie, you must think pretty lowly of me, to think that I would kiss a woman one night, then suddenly expect to make love to her the next." He chewed his cheek for a moment. "Well there was this one woman in Belize…"
She arched a delicate eyebrow at him; she was starting to wonder where another expensive pen was.
"I would never do that with you though." His voice became a low whisper. "We are what you want us to be. And I will happily be the one who kisses you senseless, and then hold you at night."
"Okay." Without another word, she pulled back the sheets and laid down facing the opposite wall. Red situated himself, and she felt him roll the opposite direction. She closed her eyes in silent thanks. She probably wouldn't have minded being the little spoon, but she was grateful he wasn't pushing her. She would always be grateful.
She knew he would let their new relationship move at her pace. So the next morning when she had awoken nestled on his chest, she kissed him. She kissed him with as much care as he had shown her the previous night. And from that night on, she couldn't not sleep next to him.
Her mind came back to the present. She finished her nightly routine and came back out to the small cabin. Red was sitting on the bed, trying to avoid the sinkhole. He got up and pulled her in for a brief hug, and he kissed her nose.
She laid down on the bed and covered with the blanket. She was relieved that she was wrong about it being scratchy, it was blessedly soft. She laid there for half an hour, unable to sleep. She heard the bathroom door open, and he turned off the blinking desk light. The mattress finally sunk with Red's weight, and she rolled backwards into him.
Needing the comfort it brought, she turned around and snuggled into his side, his arms wrapped obligingly around her. She found her niche, her head tucked between his chin and chest. Lizzie breathed in the scent that was inherently Red, cigars and cedar, and she felt his hand moving up and down her arm in soothing circles. Soon they both were breathing steadily, and she felt her eyelids droop.
She was floating. And cold. She didn't feel like she was dreaming, but that had to be the only explanation. She saw Red calling for her, bobbing up and down. Only then did she realize she was in water, and she wasn't dreaming.
They had been thrown from the bed and suddenly they were knocked into the opposite wall. Outside she could hear the winds roaring, and the crew shouting orders.
"Red what's going on?" She had stumbled as she grabbed for her jacket. When she turned around he was throwing her a life jacket. She slipped it on over the nightgown, then put her jacket on, Red doing the same.
"Damned storm. We need to get topside."
That was the last thing she remembered until she heard Red shouting for her. Everything was muddled, she couldn't tell which way was up, or where Red was. She vaguely remembered being tugged by the life jacket, holding her breath, and going under the water more than once. Then all she knew was darkness.
He thanked God, fate, the universe, his old nanny, anyone he could think of, there was an island not too far off from where the boat went down. When the boat was going down Lizzie had been thrown against the wall, and she had smacked it hard enough that the blow had knocked her out. He carried her the rest of the way up, but lost his grip. An agonizing half hour later he found her again, and let the current carry them as close as it would. He swam the rest of the way, and it was the only time he had felt his age in the last decade.
Once to the beach, he pulled off Lizzie's jacket and life jacket and put his ear to her chest. He heard her heart beat and breathing, and relaxed, but only slightly. Her forehead was bleeding, but there weren't any more visible wounds. Gingerly he moved her arms, and pressed, checking for breaks; her legs were also unscathed.
The night gown was plastered to her every curve, from the rise of her breasts to the delicate swell of her hips. He indulged in the view for only a moment before he covered her with her jacket. Admittedly he had wanted know what she looked like without clothing, but he would much rather have her awake and willingly nude. Lightning flashed above him, and he glimpsed a cave not too far away. He swung Lizzie up into his arms and carried her there.
He laid her against a large rock, and checked the back of the cave. It was about fifty feet deep, and far enough up the beach that high tide wouldn't bother it. Until daylight came he couldn't fully assess the situation, so he went back to Lizzie.
She was shivering. He sat beside her and pulled her limp body into his lap. He considered warming her up by removing both hers and his clothing and using direct body heat. He smiled, he knew she would likely rather die of hypothermia, rather than let him see her naked. He chuckled at the prospect of having a naked, furious Lizzie in his arms when she woke up.
He kissed her forehead, and relaxed as much as one could relax in a cave. He fell asleep as
the storm waned.
She was getting impatient. Red was alternating between nibbling her neck and soothing with his tongue, and every time Lizzie would try to catch his mouth he would pull away. Not to mention he was deliciously torturing her breasts with every squeeze, and the occasional pinch to her nipples.
She gave out a little moan and she wiggled her hips, grinding them against his. In response he bit her ear in a playful nip, she let out a squeal. She scraped her nails down his bare back, and gripped the pants he was annoyingly still wearing. He had stripped her nightgown off, what seemed like ages ago, and she was getting desperate to see, to feel more of him.
"Red please." She reached for the fly of his pants and undid the button, and got the zipper down. Her hand grazed the length of him, she felt him shudder and it made her smile. Raymond Reddington, shuddering at her touch was the most empowering thing she had ever felt. His attentions to her neck ceased when she gripped him. Emboldened by his reaction she pulled him free.
"Lizzie," his voice was a low growl.
"Lizzie," his voice wasn't quite a growl, but it was huskier than usual. Sleep still clouded her mind but she could tell Red was holding her, and his voice was very near her ear. "Lizzie, unless you want me to ravish you here and now, let go."
Only then did she realized she was holding the heavy evidence of his arousal; at least her dream hadn't been exaggerating. Lizzie thanked God she hadn't actually undressed him. She snatched her hand away, and he let out a lungful of air. In all their previous nights of sleeping together, she had never done that before. Of course, she couldn't deny that there had been the occasional raunchy dream, but she had never once slept-groped him. Had to be the change of scenery messing with her senses.
They both stared at one another, both breathing like they had run a marathon. He cracked a smile first, and she followed suit. Soon they were both laughing like lunatics, and he rested his forehead to hers.
He moved his hands from her waist to hold the sides of her head, holding her to where she was. He wasn't laughing anymore, and she wasn't either. He was smiling as his lips met hers. His thumbs stroked her cheek bones, and she sighed at the touch and his tongue took advantage. He swept into her mouth, making her moan. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and she took over, chasing his tongue into his mouth. He tasted like a fine scotch and just hinted at a cigar; she vaguely remembered him having those things the night before.
The night before, on the boat. The boat had sunk. She broke the kiss suddenly and she couldn't tell who was more disappointed.
"What happened last night Red? The last thing I remember was getting thrown from the bed. And maybe floating in the water. Ow." Now that neither sleep, nor arousal were clouding her brain, Lizzie felt the pain radiating from her forehead. Her hand reached up to find the source of the pain, Red's hand stopped her.
"Let me." He began lightly touching her forehead. When he found a sore spot, she hissed. "Looks like a small cut, but nothing major, lucky for you because I don't think there's an emergency room for at least two hundred miles. Probably more." He stood, pulling Lizzie with him. Sunlight was creeping over the horizon giving them a cursory view of their surroundings. From what Lizzie could tell it was a typical tropical island, one that you would send as a postcard. There were no other land masses in sight, no ships in the distance, it was just endless ocean in front of her. Red cackled beside her.
"What's so funny? Looks to me like we're stranded." She raised her eyebrow at him, and folded her arms across her chest.
"Last time I was stranded somewhere, I was on my way to Tuba City, Arizona. God, those Navajo tacos were divine."
"Red," she sighed. "We should probably explore the island, find fresh water, maybe some food." She trailed off, reality setting in. She whispered, "How long do you think we'll be here?"
He was still smirking as he turned to her and grasped her hand, his thumb automatically finding her scar and rubbing it. She smiled, she absolutely loved that he had that strange ability. "I don't know, Lizzie. But I won't let anything happen to you. That I can promise."
From their walk that day they found a fresh water river about two miles from the cave, and fruit bearing trees in different pockets around the island. As far as Red could tell the island was at least twenty square miles. And the food would last between them for quite some time. For the first time, in a long time, Red prayed. He prayed that they would make it off this island alive. He wasn't worried for his sake, but Lizzie deserved better than this.
He had caught a fleeting glimpse of the GPS before the ship went under and he'd lost Lizzie. They had still been about a day away from Jakarta, and he wasn't sure if the captain had sent out an SOS before hell had broken lose. The storm had been harsh, but he was almost certain the ship had had a malfunction that caused the accident. Of course, they'd never be sure now.
In a stroke of genuine luck, he had strapped a knife to his calf before they had gotten on the boat. Even Lizzie hadn't known about it. He might have paid those smugglers well, but that didn't make them any less human, and Lizzie anything less than a beautiful young woman. Granted a young woman who could hold her own; without even realizing it he rubbed the spot on his neck where she had punched a hole in his carotid.
They agreed that the cave was the best shelter, and that saved time and energy. On the first day they had gathered food and put in the back of the cave. Debris from the ship washed ashore, carrying plastic jugs. Grateful they wouldn't have to go daily, they filled them and carried them back.
Over the course of the first week he noticed Lizzie was getting pinker, her ivory skin wasn't used to this much sunlight. He admired her for not complaining about it, he had a sun burn that left him bed ridden once; worst week of Mr. Kaplan's life when Red needed help. As for himself he was missing having a proper razor, his stubble would become full blown scruff in another week. He hated beards; messy, and damned scratchy.
Lizzie stood and stumbled over the hem of the nightgown she was still wearing. "Damn it. Any chance of my clothes washing up on shore?" She sat down again, and sighed. He stood and walked to her. She looked confused at the sudden intrusion of her personal space. "What?"
He quickly knelt, holding the knife in his hand and sliced the night gown just above the knee. To her credit, Lizzie didn't jerk away, but she did let out an absolutely adorable squeak. He continued cutting until he was all the way around; purposely he let his hand graze the back of her thighs. She tried to cover it up but he heard her sharp intake of breath. He met her gaze, and saw the same flare of blue fire that he had seen the morning she had awoken in his arms.
The morning that even now caused him to stand up and walk away to cover up his suddenly obvious arousal. They still slept next to each other, needing the closeness and warmth. Every morning he would wake up tangled in her limbs, and with her hair practically up his nose. His Lizzie was quite the snuggler anyway, but on this God forsaken island, her snuggling abilities seemed to intensify.
"Thank you." Her voice was husky. She coughed, and suddenly sounded like her normal self. "You could've warned me though." She chuckled.
"Where's the fun in that?" He made his way towards the mouth of the cave. "I'm going fishing. Care to join me?"
"Maybe. It would probably feel good on this." She gestured to her pink skin.
"Salt water won't help. Go to the river. I'll have dinner cooking by the time you get back." Lizzie nodded and he walked out.
She sighed as she sunk herself to the cool water. The nightgown was haphazardly left on a rock; it had been a beautiful white, now it was a muted brown. After soaking for a few more moments, her burnt skin finally feeling normal, she grabbed the dress. She could at least try to feel normal in these abnormal circumstances.
Lizzie smiled. Waking up in Red's arms was normal now. Waking up in a cave was the norm, for right now. Yet somehow, she was happier here than she had ever been when she had woken up with Tom. Even now she cursed herself for spending that night with him. During the first week on the run with Red, she had nearly scrubbed herself raw more than once, trying to rid herself of Tom's scent. It made her cringe even now.
Once she felt like she had completely scrubbed Tom off of her, she realized that had treated Tom like an addiction, an ego drug. She went back to him time and again to make herself feel better, holding him in that boat, going to him when she'd been angry with Red. She thanked God that she finally saw through her own pettiness.
Red had hugged her when she had told him about her last night with Tom. He didn't judge her, didn't reprimand, he just held her. And that when she fell in love with him.
"Wait, what?" she whispered to herself. She darted her eyes to the river's shore line, he wasn't there.
She chastised herself for thinking it was even remotely strange that she thought that. After all, they had all but said the words to each other. He made her laugh, protected her even when she didn't ask for it, he'd given up his life to run with her, to keep her safe. Not to mention the palpable tension that had been building over the last two years.
Her thoughts drifted back to the first morning on the island, and she blushed at the dream she had had. Though she hadn't told him, she'd had at least two more since arriving here. Thankfully she hadn't slept-groped him again.
The man was looking more and more delectable as time on the island went by though. His hair was getting longer, and he'd developed the most delicious looking scruff. She practically purred when she would wake up to his scruff tickling her skin. Or when he would kiss her forehead when he thought she was asleep, it felt amazing. She mentally shook herself and focused on the dress again.
She finished scrubbing the dress and laid it out on the rock again. Then she proceeded to float on her back and closed her eyes. She didn't realize how long it had been until she heard Red clear his throat. She jerked and went under the water.
She surfaced and found herself encircled in his arms. When her eyes finally focused she saw his green ones filled with humor and he let out a laugh. His chest hair was a dark blonde, and she ran her hand through it, it was damp and soft. It hadn't occurred to her that, even with a week on an island having gone by she still hadn't seen him shirtless. Now she was annoyed that he'd been keeping this secret. He had a great looking torso, those suits had been hiding the years of disciplined muscle. Then she glanced at his left shoulder, and recognized a familiar pattern.
A pattern that she had carried for twenty-six years. Ever since Luther Braxton had had her memory brought back to the surface, she had known Red was in the fire. It had occurred to her that he might have had gained scars from that night as well, but she had never had the guts to ask him. She laid her own scar against his, and looked into his eyes.
"Lizzie," his voice was a hoarse whisper. "I'm sorry-".
"Don't." She floated even closer to him, completely forgetting that she was naked, and not caring that he was too. Their bodies were touching now, and Lizzie felt the temperature steadily rising around them. Gently, in a silent thank you, she kissed him. Letting her lips linger, she wrapped her arms around his neck while he put his warm hands on her waist, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. She pulled away, and kissed his jawline before leaning back to look into his eyes. "Thank you. For everything. Saving my life, getting me out, and putting up with how many times I walked away. Or tried to anyway. Red, why do you keep doing this for me?"
"Because, I need you as much as I love you." He moved his hand to her head, and slicked her hair away from her face, she leaned into the touch. "You are my ray of sunshine in the cave, Lizzie. With you, I don't have to be a monster anymore."
"I know I called you one before, but you were never really a monster Red. Not to me." And to prove it she lifted her legs around his waist, and crushed her mouth down on his. She heard herself whisper, "I love you, too."
Somewhere in the back of her mind it registered that she could feel him pressing at her core, and Lizzie grinded her hips against him. She scraped her nails through his hair, and she reveled in the feel of his stubble as she kissed him. His chest hair tickled her breasts as he squeezed her closer.
He had felt like a randy teenager when he'd seen her floating in the river. He should have known that she wouldn't be swimming with the nightgown on. Not that the nightgown would have left anything to the imagination, but it was still a barrier.
It had been over an hour since he'd returned from gathering dinner, and when she hadn't returned he went looking for her. He knew no person could hurt her right now, but she could have taken a bad step and fallen.
He was instantly relieved when he saw her, and instantly aroused. Only a dead man wouldn't have been, and he certainly wasn't dead. Her eyes remained closed at his approach. Not being one to resist an opportunity, he quietly took off his clothing. He paused only for a moment to wonder what her response to this would be, and what she would think of his scars. Throwing caution to the wind he treaded into the water. When she continued not to notice him, he realized she had fallen asleep. He cleared his throat, and she jerked awake. Flailing, she sent herself under the water. He dove after her and grabbed her. Red brought them both back to the surface and couldn't help but chuckle at her stunned face.
Now she was circling around him, pressing her firm breasts into his chest, pulling herself closer to him. He was all too happy to oblige. He grasped her sweetly curved backside, he probably would leave bruises, but she didn't seem to mind as she grinded against him.
He glanced around to find a small outcropping of rocks, just behind the waterfall; he started to swim towards it, still tangling his tongue with hers. She tasted like sunshine; bright and vibrant. Behind the waterfall, the water seemed warmer, perhaps it was just the woman he had deliciously wrapped around him.
With a vigor that surprised even himself, he lifted them out of the water and pressed Lizzie down on the rocks, and he went to her breasts. He pulled her right nipple into his mouth, eliciting the sexiest groan he'd ever heard from her or any woman. As he went back up to kiss her, she scraped her nails down his back, and in return he trailed a hand down her abdomen until he reached what he was looking for.
He stroked two fingers inside her, curling them towards himself, finding that sweet spot. His thumb pressed on her swollen nub, and soon he found a rhythm. She began panting, he stroked faster. Her eyes fluttered closed; he sent her flying when he grazed her nipple with his teeth. Her cries echoed off the rock walls making him groan. He positioned himself between her legs, hooking her legs around his waist.
"Lizzie."
Her eyes opened. The normally cerulean blue orbs, were now dilated and huge, practically black. Suddenly she looked worried. "What? What's wrong Red? Did I do something wron-".
He silenced her with a kiss. "Other than being the most beautiful creature in the world? You've done nothing. But I must confess, I don't have protection on me."
She giggled, all the worry gone from her face. She pulled him down for another kiss, and her features sobered. "Red, I had a scare when I was twenty. I went to the doctor's to make sure, it was a false positive. He ran a few more tests, told me that when I was older, I could try and try, but the odds of me getting pregnant, would be astronomical. No, don't give me pity. I've given that to myself way too much lately."
He nodded. He kissed her once more.
As his lips met hers again, she sighed. She had never told anyone that, not even Tom when they had been "married". All she had told Tom was that she felt there were kids who needed adopting and rather than have their own, they should give their love to a child who needed it. And while that was true, she didn't want to admit that when she had found out, it had made her feel like a failure of a woman. She knew that was crazy, having her own children did not make her a woman; but now making love with Red, she couldn't help but wonder what kind of child they could make together. Blue eyes, or green?
All thoughts of children flew out of her mind as he notched himself at her entry. She looked into his eyes and she saw that he was still leaving the decision up to her. Later she would tell him that when being intimate, he need never ask, but at the moment all she could do was raise her hips, drawing him in. That was all the invitation he needed. He slowly sunk into her inch, by agonizingly sweet inch.
She ran her hands down his back, lingering on the scars there, her scars melding almost perfectly. Lizzie continued her explicit journey until she grabbed his firm ass, and ever so slightly dug her nails in. He responded by picking up his rhythm, pressing in and out of her faster and faster. He grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head, giving him uninhibited access to her breasts, he lavished each one in turn.
Again she felt heat and tension coiling. She practically started chanting, whispering his name again and again. Desperate she pulled one of her hands free, and pulled his lips to hers. They met in a furious tango of lips, teeth and tongues. It was enough to send them both spiraling.
"Red!" His name echoed in the cavern.
"Lizzie." Her name was a growl next to her ear.
She could feel herself still quaking around him, but not much else. He was resting on his forearms, not quite touching her. She didn't care if she was crushed, she just wanted his warmth on top of her. He must have read her face, lowered himself, and she hummed appreciatively.
"Red," she played with the nape of his neck while he nuzzled her clavicle. "We can never do that in polite society."
He lifted his head. "Beg your pardon?"
"I've never, erm, never, screamed like that, and would hate to think people could hear me."
"Lizzie, you're a finely tuned instrument that's been played by an amateur with fumbling and sticky fingers. I fully intend to pluck your strings until you sing." He emphasized his point by finding her clit and teasing it, eliciting mewling noises. "I will keep playing them until you've screamed my name into the heavens." He licked her neck, traveling down until he drew her nipple into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth.
Her little noises became full-fledged cries, and he didn't stop until Lizzie was nearly blind with sensation. A few moments went by and she drifted back to reality, looking up into Red's emerald green eyes. They were hooded with a lustful need that tugged at her belly. He leaned down to kiss her, when she stopped him.
"Red?" She sighed. Needing to have the upper hand she pushed his shoulder. She kept pushing until she was the human blanket, straddling his waist and looking down at him. "This isn't just what happens when two people are alone on an island, is it?"
His left eye twitched, and he took her right hand and kissed her scar. "No. I think you know that we've been heading in this direction for some time." He chuckled. "Ever since you looked like a deer in the headlights when you first sat in front of me."
"Really? Just like that?" She gasped. She felt him stirring again, so it was no surprise when he gripped her waist and lifted her. When she came back down, he had effectively pierced her. With a strangled voice, she managed to say, "For, for me it was when we danced at the Syrian Embassy." Some part of her realized they were talking about when they fell in love with the other, even if in the moment, they hadn't been ready to admit it.
He pulled her down for a soul-crushing kiss. She moaned against his lips. They could discuss it later.
A month passed and they flowed into a delightful routine of waking up, making love, and going to the river to get clean, then gathering supplies for the day. Lizzie even became proficient in spear fishing, feeling a surge of pride when she caught something.
Thirty-two mornings after they had been shipwrecked she awoke to Red between her legs, licking her in loving strokes. She might have cut him, but at the time it didn't matter, she scraped at his scalp, needing to grip something. The dark blonde beard he had developed, made every sensation one-hundred times more intense. She had screamed her throat raw when he made her come. And that was to be the first of many delightful encounters that morning, she was certain.
Off in the distance a boat bobbed in the water, and its captain heard the distinctive scream from an aroused woman. Well at least whoever was on the island was alive, and not alone, he thought. He put a gun in the small of his back, just on the off chance he'd need it. He'd picked up the SOS about a week ago, and had followed it. Figuring if anyone was still alive, they would have swum to the island, not fifty miles off.
He might be a bastard, but it didn't mean he couldn't have a shred of humanity. He steered his boat, and dropped anchor. He put the small raft in the water, and motored to shore. Jacob Phelps began his search for the survivors.
"My God Lizzie," they laid panting, slick with sweat, in each other arms, and Red was stunned that they were still alive after that round. He was certain he would have claw marks on his head, and they would be his second most prized possession, the first he was holding in his arms. "I feel like I just ran a marathon underwater with a tigress on my back, and the prize was the most decadent chocolate and cream."
"Funny, I was going to say something similar, but more along the lines of just happy noises, maybe a little drool, and way less eloquent." They laughed.
"We should get to the river, Lizzie." He stood, pulling her with him. They got dressed in silence. That's when they heard it, over the rush of the ocean, over the sound of sea gulls, they heard a motor. Lizzie and Red looked at one another, unsure of how much hope they should be feeling at the moment. Red grabbed the knife, the knife that had been their life line for the last month and a day.
They had been cautious, and he wasn't about to risk her safety now, even with salvation on the horizon. He noticed Lizzie grab a rock, and she slipped her jacket on.
"Hello?" A voice called from down the beach. It echoed in the cave and resonated in Red's ears. The voice was eerily familiar, setting his hackles on edge.
He stole a glance at Lizzie, she had gone pale. She'd recognized the voice as well, and she noticeably gripped the rock tighter. While he wouldn't mind disposing of Tom here and now, he wished Lizzie wouldn't have to be witness to it. She didn't need that bastard screwing with her anymore.
"Lizzie," he whispered. Her cerulean gaze met his, he saw the tears-one more thing to beat Tom for-he brushed his thumb under her eye. "Stay here, come with me, but whatever happens, get to the boat, and go."
"Red-" she started, he silenced her with a kiss.
"No. No arguing Lizzie. You see the opportunity, and you take it. I will protect you, and I won't fail this time. Go."
"No. You didn't fail me the first time. You have yet to fail me." She whispered furiously at him. "I killed Connolly because I wasn't going to let him threaten you. He was going to take you away from me, I wasn't going to let that happen. I chose to do that. Me alone. You. Did. Not. Fail. Me. We get off this island together, or not at all."
She had the same look in her eye that she had had when she stabbed him with the pen. He was the one who wasn't going to argue. He grasped her right hand, and pressed a kiss to her scar, for luck he supposed. Then she kissed his knuckles. They moved their way to the mouth of the cave, ready to face whatever came their way.
He tied off the boat, and called out a greeting. No one responded, but that wasn't surprising. Jacob moved up the beach, towards the cave. He figured if anyone was alive, and it certainly had sounded that way, they would be using the cave as shelter. He kept his hands at his sides, not wanting to frighten the person, or persons, into any unnecessary violence.
"Hello? Does anyone need medical attention?"
Again, all he got was silence.
About ten feet from the mouth of the cave, the survivors emerged. Numbers four and five on the FBI's most wanted list. He thought about ducking, and taking cover. However he just grabbed his gun, and pointed it at Reddington. Jacob laughed in his head at Reddington's beard, and Liz's humid hair. Then he realized, he knew that hairdo from Liz-combined with the scream he'd heard earlier-it was the post-sex look.
"Holy shit." He whispered. Well they definitely didn't have a daddy-daughter thing going on. He felt something in his gut that wasn't unknown to him, but it wasn't expected either. He was jealous of Reddington. He and Liz had had some great times, but he'd never heard her like that. Mentally shaking himself, he focused on Reddington, pointing the gun at him.
"Well isn't this God having a sense of humor." Reddington smiled. Arrogant son of a bitch didn't care that he had a gun trained on him. "You know Tom-".
"My name is Jacob Phelps."
"Tom."
Jacob nearly pulled the trigger then.
"As I was saying," Reddington continued. "We could do things like civilized people. You graciously take Lizzie and I to civilization, we stay a good distance from each other until Lizzie and I can make contact with one of my people, then we go our separate ways. But from the glint in your eyes, I see that a snowball has a better chance in hell."
"Damn right." He didn't let the gun waiver.
"Tom." Liz's voice. He didn't look at her. "Jacob?"
Only then, did Jacob look away from Reddington. Liz's eyes were pleading with him, they matched the tone in her voice. "Please. Just this once, can you do something….good? For me?"
He was about to answer when he saw a blurred motion from the corner of his eye. Then his left side was burning. Liz stepped forward and twisted the gun out of his hand. The gun went off, and he heard Liz gasp. Saw her arm, it was splattered with blood. When he looked back in Reddington's direction, all he was a fist, then blackness.
"Shit." Lizzie grasped her right arm with her left. She was dumbfounded that she was shot. She didn't know what she was more annoyed at, getting shot or at the fact that Tom was the one who had done it.
"Lizzie, are you alright?" Red actually sounded panicked, and he looked terrified. His hands came up to her face, probably to make sure she was still breathing.
"I'm fine-" she didn't finish. He crushed her to his chest, clinging. She felt something wet hit her forehead. When she tried to look up at him, he wouldn't give her an inch, so she strained her eyes, and saw that he was in fact crying. She wrapped her good arm around him, clutching him tight. "Red. Red, I'm fine. Ow."
He jolted back, but moved his hands to her waist, then checked her arm. She appreciated that contact, she needed it as much as he did. When he was, seemingly, satisfied that she wasn't suddenly going to drop dead in front of him, he tore the sleeve of his shirt and started to tie it around the wound.
"We need to get back to his boat. Can you help me lift him?" Red finished the knot.
"No."
"That's fine. I can manage to get him, I think."
"No. Red, I meant," she felt strong, resolved. "I don't think we should bring him back. Leave him here. He'll keep finding his way back into my, our lives. I don't want that. And besides which, if we leave him here, likely someone will find him. If the SOS from our ship is still going off, then he'll be found, and someone else can deal with him."
He nodded. "Okay. Let's go then."
Three weeks later….
They sat in the doctor's office, numb. Red wasn't sure he had a pulse anymore, and Lizzie looked bewildered. The doctor looked like he'd been expecting a happier reaction, and now he was disappointed that his news wasn't being received well.
"I'll leave you two to talk." He left the file on the desk, and walked out.
Once he was gone, Red and Lizzie finally made eye contact. They still couldn't speak, so Red reached over and grabbed the file, and opened it. He pulled out the little black and white photograph. He looked at the evidence of their new situation.
"Well Lizzie," his voice was thick, Lizzie had tears rolling down her cheeks. "You said the odds would be astronomical."
She launched herself into his lap, and wrapped her arms around him. She choked out a couple of sobs, and he felt her happy tears roll down his own cheeks. He pulled her back, kissed her forehead, each of her eyes, and finally her sweet lips. They lingered in that kiss, for what seemed like ages.
"Oh God, Red." She pulled back abruptly. "What are we going to do? With the FBI on our backs? The Cabal, they'll take advantage of this. They'll try and hurt-".
"Lizzie, this baby," his hand pressed on her abdomen, he rubbed his thumb up and down, "Will be the most amazing, most loved thing on this planet. And I will not, ever, let anything happen to him. Or her."
"Are you sure?"
"I have never lied to you." He kissed her once more.
The sonogram was crushed between them. When Red eventually found them a permanent home, somewhere where the world couldn't touch them, they would hang that sonogram above a fireplace, while he felt the baby kick and kissing his wife, Elizabeth Scott Reddington.