Author's Note: This is another strange one. Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, and earn nothing.

Chapter One

Elizabeth Keen stepped off of the elevator and into the law firm of Crane, Poole, and Schmidt. She made a beeline for her brother's office, speedwalking past the madcow man before he even had a chance to notice her. Since the door was already open, she entered without knocking. "Can't you do better than a fifty-fifty split of our assets? The entire marriage was a fraud. I'm not giving him anything!" She huffed and plopped down on one of the oversized chairs facing his desk.

"Well," he replied, "we have grounds for an annulment, if you'd prefer, but either way, you won't be walking away from this with more than you already had."

She narrowed her eyes, thoroughly unsatisfied with his answer.

...-...-...

From behind the desk of his own office, Alan watched a beautiful brunette speedwalking across the lobby and through Brad Chase's door. She looked pissed. Maybe she's unhappy with the results of her case, or perhaps Captain America just needed a hand. How could he possibly bear to allow such a goddess to languish with Brad's inferior law skills? Alan stood up and quietly walked over, careful not to draw attention to himself as he loitered in the hall, listening to their conversation.

"Stop talking to me like you don't expect me to understand. I'm an adult now, Bradley!"

Oh, this was just too good. Brad has another sister? He'd only met the blonde. This woman looked as though she had been adopted. Perhaps she was. And BRADLEY? How did he not know that 'Brad' was only a nickname? He decided to save that morsel for another day. Alan bit his lip to prevent himself from laughing out loud. His intent was to listen until he had thought of a good enough reason to interrupt, but he didn't have to wait very long, as he quickly decided that the woman legitimately needed a better lawyer. Her husband had thrown her into an unspeakably heinous situation, and Brad expects her to be happy with half of his assets? Oh no. No. No way.

Alan stepped through the door with a smug grin settled over his lips. "New client, Brad?"

Brad leaned forward on his elbows and glared at him.

"I'm Alan Shore." He extended a hand towards the woman. She shook it, smiling at the man who was openly raking his eyes up and down her seated body.

"Liz."

Brad jumped in, "My SISTER, Elizabeth." His meaning was clear. It suggested that Alan back off, or else.

Brad should know by now that 'or else', even unspoken, is a threat too promising for Alan to resist.

"How is your case going, Elizabeth?" Alan asked, sitting in the chair beside hers.

After shooting a brief glare at Brad, she turned her shoulders towards Alan and answered, "'Liz' is fine, Mr. Shore."

His gaze tracked a slow path from her feet to her face. When their eyes met, he flicked his tongue over his bottom lip and hummed. "Better than fine, I'm sure."

"Do you need something?" Brad indiscreetly spat.

Alan ignored him. "Your case, Liz. How's it going?"

Brad scowled. "I'm handling it, Alan."

"Actually, not very well. My sweet brother here doesn't think I deserve more than half of my so-called husband's assets."

"Elizabeth, that is not what I said."

"And what would you consider a favorable outcome? I may be able to help."

"Don't listen to him," Brad growled, "Anything he cooks up will put him and probably myself at risk for disbarrment, and then you will get nothing."

Liz nodded and pursed her lips thoughtfully.

Alan's head snapped towards Brad. He lifted his chin arrogantly, his eyes unblinking. "If only you had been so protective of your sister before she walked down the aisle with this scumbag."

Brad shook his head, chuckling mirthlessly, probably trying to come up with a witty comeback, and failing.

"Have I struck a nerve, Bradley?" So much for saving it. Alan grinned openly. "If Liz were MY sister, I'd keep an eye on her." He smacked his lips with delight. "But since she isn't, perhaps I'll keep BOTH eyes on her instead."

Liz's lips twitched against the urge to smirk, trying not to reveal her amusement. The moment Alan had walked in, just from the look on Brad's face, she knew exactly who he was- the bane of her big brother's career, and the victorious, slingshot-wielding David against a seemingly-endless stream of corporate Goliaths. He's the unscrupulous, no-holds-barred shark that gets the girl and takes every opportunity to make Brad look like an asshole. He was doing a fine job of it already. She'd heard many stories.

Funny, Brad never mentioned how cute he is.

"What do you have in mind, Mr. Shore?" Liz asked.

He tilted his head, leaning closer to Liz, watching Brad scowl from the corner of his eye. "Many, many things... all of them inappropriate for me to say in front of your brother..."

"Alan!" Brad growled.

"The less you know, the better, Brad." His eyes danced gleefully. "I wouldn't want you to be disbarred. Poor Lizzie here would probably have to dump me. We don't want to put her in that situation."

Liz was openly smirking after that remark. The whole exchange felt like many she'd witnessed between Red and Ressler. Like Ressler, Brad seemed completely flummoxed that she didn't immediately side with him. Not just flummoxed though. Disgusted? Disappointed? And Alan, like Red, was beaming.

Brad abruptly stood up and crossed the space between them. He sneered and poked Alan's shoulder. "Get. Out. Now."

Unperturbed, he turned his chair towards Liz and shrugged. "I think he wants me to leave."

"It seems so," Liz replied cooly, crossing one leg over the other, mentally noting the way Alan's eyes tracked the movement.

Brad put his hands on his hips, loudly clearing his throat, expecting Liz to rally behind him. "My next client will be here in five minutes, Alan. I don't have time for your shenanigans."

He gasped, gripping the armrests of his chair, swinging his gaze back to Brad. "But you haven't even helped Lizzie yet."

He raised his voice. "Alan, we're done here."

Alan glanced up at Liz, and pointed his thumb over his shoulder at Brad. "Has he helped you yet, Lizzie?"

Her lips parted slightly, poised to answer, and she noted the downward trajectory of his eyes. Pushing the situation a bit further, she leaned forward, letting him momentarily gaze down her silk blouse. Alan swallowed thickly, his fingers curled into the chair's upholstery. "No, he hasn't."

Alan reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. His fingers lingered at her wrist as he handed it to her. He stood up and buttoned his jacket. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Lizzie. Call me tonight. Rest assured that anything we say or do will be privileged." He headed towards the door and paused briefly to regard his seething coworker. "Nice chat, Bradley."

Brad closed the door behind him and returned to his desk. "Do you see what I have to deal with here? I hate him!"

Liz shook her head. "You didn't even give him a chance."

"I don't have to. He's a maniac. You better not call him, Elizabeth."

"It's funny you should say that, after all of the stories you've told me about him. Doesn't he have a knack for winning unwinnable cases? Isn't this the man who insulted every justice of the Supreme Court and won? You've seen him in action, Brad. Wouldn't he be an ace of spades up our sleeves?"

"He's just trying to get into your pants," he spat.

Liz shrugged. "I don't see what that has to do with my case."

"IT'S UNPROFESSIONAL! And he leaves women worse off for having ever known him."

"Oh? That's not what you said about Sally. In fact, it isn't what she said, either."

"Sally is different."

"No, she isn't, and you're forgetting that I know her."

Brad rolled his eyes, at a loss for words. "Just... don't call him." He knew that his words were futile. His little sister never knew when to take good advice.

She stood up. "Your clients are probably out there waiting. I'll see you later, Brad. Try not to worry so much. After Tom, I think I can deal with a little pervert like Alan Shore."

Of course you can, he thought to himself. That wasn't the point. "See ya, sis."

She flashed him a sympathetic smile and left.

...-...-...

Alan popped up the collar of his black overcoat, stepping outside for his ritualistic evening scotch and cigar with his best friend, Denny Crane. He struck a match and held it against his cigar's end, taking tiny puffs as he rotated it with his fingertips to get a nice, even burn.

"I heard you won your case today. Congratulations."

Speaking around the cigar pinched between his teeth, Denny replied, "Still undefeated! How'd you do?"

"I convinced Graham that it was in his best interest to settle. But then... I met a beautiful woman, with piercing blue eyes. I should probably warn you that it might bring trouble. She's Brad's sister."

Denny shook his head and sipped his scotch. "Much more trouble than you think. Liz is Raymond's girl."

"So, you know her? Isn't she stunning? I don't know about this Raymond guy. Lizzie didn't mention him. In fact, Brad didn't either. Are you sure we're talking about the same woman?"

"Raymond Reddington," Denny replied shortly, giving Alan a moment to think it over.

Alan took a deep drag of his cigar, and exhaled into the sky before he replied, "Raymond Reddington. Why does that name sound familiar?"

"Because he's on the FBI's most wanted list."

He laughed. "You're kidding."

"I'm not. You should be careful, Alan. I mean it."

"May I ask how you know all of this? I'm assuming Brad doesn't know."

"Brad knows that she works with him, but that's all."

Alan shivered and tightened his grip on the drink in his hand. "I have so many questions, but first, good god... Why am I so aroused by the thought of her working with a most-wanted criminal?"

"I bet she's a lioness in bed. You'll have to tell me all about it, if you survive."

"Of course. Now, how do you know this dangerous criminal man?"

"He's my cigar guy. You gotta know the right people to get your hands on these Cuban babies." He dramatically waved his cigar in the air. "And my Gulfstream. He got me a good deal on that."

"Then what is a man like that doing with Brad's sister? You said they work together?"

"I don't know the details. She's with the FBI, a profiler."

"A profiler?" He practically spat at the words. "I don't like the sound of that. Nothing kills an erection faster than a woman trying to get inside my head. I've only voluntarily allowed two women go there." He plucked an icecube from his tumbler and popped it into his mouth.

"Your wife?" Denny asked.

"Yes, and she died."

"Who else?"

"Tara... and she left."

"Well, you've got me. Besides, she won't have time to get into your head. She lives in Virginia. Why's she here, anyway?"

"Brad's helping with her divorce. Or at least, he was. IF she calls, then I suppose that I am. She needs someone willing to step outside of the law, but she might not know it yet. The husband really did a number on her. Perhaps Raymond can help to pay her husband back in kind. Someone should." Denny, staring off into space, didn't comment. "Denny?"

Silence.

"Denny, did you hear me?"

He flinched in his seat, as if startled. "Huh? Oh, yeah. Someone should. Speaking of Virginia, have you ever had sex on Capitol Hill?"

"No, but I wouldn't miss it if the opportunity arose." He shook his head. "Have you?"

Denny's lips curled into a grin around his cigar. "Oh yes, and the White House too, in the Clinton era. Bill even gave me one of his prized cigars... but it wasn't in the Oval Office. Next time. You always have to save something for another day. Gives you something to look forward to."

Alan blinked, absorbing his friend's wisdom. "But then what, after your Oval Office sex?"

He cackled, as if the answer should be perfectly obvious. "Oval Office, one more time, but with a one-legged woman."

A contemplative silence fell between them, but Alan soon broke it. "Should I really be afraid of Raymond Reddington? Liz isn't sleeping with him, is she? She was coy, but... that look in her eye was unmistakable."

"Ray's playing the long game. He wants her, for keeps, forever. The only way he'll let you have her is if he's convinced that it will end."

"What does that even mean? 'That it will end'?"

Denny shrugged. "Either she'll dump you, or he'll kill you."

"You're joking." He shook his head incredulously.

"You can't dump her, Alan. If she's hurt, even if it's over, he'll kill you."

"Oh please. If that were true, then he would have killed her husband."

"Hah, but then you have to wonder why he hasn't, don't you? Maybe you should be worried about the husband too."

"Well, I'm not." Alan retorted, but even to himself, it sounded weak.

-...-...-

As the elevator descended, Liz browsed the contacts in her cell phone, hoping that she still had Sally's number. Already, Liz was very interested in Alan Shore, but ever since Tom, she closely guarded her heart. It would be unwise to go out with Alan without at least learning a bit more about him first. Brad's heavily biased opinion didn't count.

It had been six months. Six months! Six whole months since the last time she had sex, and even then, it was with Tom. From Brad's stories about Alan, it sounded like her sibling's nemesis was a pretty good lay. If he always got the girl, then there had to be a reason. In any case, even if he wasn't good in bed, it had been so long that Liz wasn't sure if she'd be able to tell, anyway.

Bingo! There it is, Sally Heep.

Liz kept an eye on her phone's signal indicator. It wasn't until the elevator doors opened that the tiny bars illuminated. Unfortunately, Sally didn't answer, but Liz left her a voicemail, crossing her fingers that Sally would return the call.

"Hey Sally, it's Liz, Brad Chase's sister. I know that we haven't really kept in touch, but I'll be in Boston for a few days, and I'm hoping you'd like to go out for drinks and catch up. Give me a call!"

Liz took her time walking back to her hotel. Only her ipad and the flat-screen television would be there to greet her, so why rush? She had only walked two blocks when her phone started buzzing in her back pocket. She grinned and picked up the pace as she swiped her finger across the screen.

Sally was pleasantly surprised to hear from Liz, and her timing was perfect. After a hairline victory in court, celebratory libations were already on her mind. Since she had just left work and hadn't arrived home yet, they made the mutual decision to meet up immediately. With Liz's location in mind, Sally suggested a Back Bay club within walking distance.

Liz arrived first, and chose a seat at the bar, facing the entrance. She ordered two glasses of red wine, hoping that Sally would like it. If not, she'd simply drink it herself and insist on buying her something else. The club was quiet, low-key, and decorated in a sleekly understated fashion. It was only 6 PM, and Liz imagined that it buzzed richly in the later hours.

When she walked in, Sally spied Liz immediately. She waved enthusiastically, a grin splitting her face into two separate hemispheres. Liz stood to give her a hug. Prior to moving to DC, she'd met several of Brad's girlfriends, and Sally was easily her favorite. Secretly, she once harbored hopes that Brad would marry her, and for Liz, their breakup was genuinely saddening. Fast-forward five years, and here she was, only meeting up with her so she could get the dirt on her ex. She wouldn't have so much as given Sally a call, otherwise. Liz assuaged her guilt by drinking more than she'd intended. Accordingly, she held off on mentioning Alan, and they spent the first hour catching up.

When the conversation turned towards Liz's reason for visiting, she saw a perfect opportunity to hone in on the info she needed. "Alan Shore offered to help, but I don't know if I should accept it or not. What do you think?"

Sally nodded slowly, easily catching the change in Liz's tone. She was more than curious. She was... interested. "Well, I can tell you that if Alan thinks he can help you, then you should believe him, but..." she trailed off, carefully choosing her words. "Your decision to accept his help hinges on exactly one thing: your willingness to turn a blind eye to whatever he does to win. There are very few steps that Alan Shore won't take. He doesn't practice law. He climbs it like an antique soapbox, and then passionately stomps upon its face. I'd go so far as to say that he gets off on it." She went on to preemtively answer Liz's next, still-unspoken question. "To watch him in the courtroom is to witness one of the most erotic acts in nature. After spending the day in court, working everyone to a lather, he'll redirect his attention torwards you."

Liz took a deep breath and dramatically blew it out through her nose. "So.. then what, after all of that?"

"Well, that's up to you, really. He may aggressively give chase, but he won't try to force you into doing anything you don't want. Most women find him hard to resist."

Liz turned towards the bartender and requested two more glasses of wine.

"Should I resist him?"

"That depends on how you feel about casual sex. He's mind-blowing in bed, but getting attached would be a mistake."

Liz hummed, thinking it over. "I won't be here for long, so there's no time for attachment, anyway."

"Let me know how it goes."

"There's something odd about him, and I haven't been able to put my finger on it until just now..." she trailed off.

"Oh?" Sally asked, her interest piqued.

"He's a lot like a man I know, ah, from work."

"Oh yeah? Is he hot? Good in bed?"

"I wouldn't know..."

"Seriously Liz, you can't just drop that and leave it there. One Alan Shore is all the world can handle. Do you at least have a picture of him?"

Liz quirked her lips. "I didn't say that he LOOKS like him. He REMINDS me of him."

"I'll be the judge of that. Picture, please!"

Liz didn't even want to admit that she had a photo of Red, but she did, and she'd looked at it several times since her arrival in Boston. Confronted by a sudden awareness of their similarities, Liz wondered if they played a role in her attraction to Alan. With her better judgement squashed from the wine, she caved to Sally's wheedling. "Okay okay, yes, I do have a picture of Red. Hang on, let me find it." She started scrolling through her photos, taking her time in order to make it look as if she had a lot to go through in order to find it.

"Red? That's an odd name."

She passed the phone to Sally. "His real name is Raymond."

Sally brought the phone close to her face to scrutinize the photo, letting out a low, appreciative whistle. "Oh, he looks delicious. You seriously haven't slept with him? How could you not?"

Liz rolled her eyes. "He's an arrogant son of a bitch."

"Well, that explains why Alan reminds you of him." She laughed, but her eyes were still glued to the screen. "He's wearing the hell out of that suit... any chance you have a rear-view photo?"

Liz slapped her forearm playfully. "Can't say I do."

"You said you work with him? He doesn't look FBI to me. You know who does though? Your brother."

"He's sort of.. a liason, or a source, I guess. I shouldn't have even told you that much. Absolutely everything concerning him is classified."

"And you really aren't interested in him?" She found it very hard to believe. Was Liz nuts?

"It's not like I haven't ever THOUGHT about it, but our relationship is strictly professional." Liar liar, pants on fire, she chanted in her head. Red wouldn't have shown up in her life without some deeply personal reason, but she still didn't know what that reason was, and she was unwilling to admit that to Sally.

"And there's no chance that you'll change your mind about that?"

"Zero."

"Is he seeing anyone?"

Liz shrugged her shoulders, unwilling to meet the woman's overly-curious eyes. Images of Samar flashed through her head, along with the stream of questions that she desperately wanted, but was too proud to ask about her. "Not to my knowledge. There is a woman, but... I think it's just physical, with them."

Sally gave her a sly smile. "Well of course he's sleeping with someone. I would never expect a man who looks like that to have to rely on his hand."

That drew a laugh from Liz. Sally was much more... rambunctious than she recalled.

Convinced by Liz's answers that it was safe to ask, she went in for the kill. "You should set me up with him." Her eyebrows arched, pleading her case.

"You realize that he doesn't live in Boston, right?"

"I do. You don't either, but you're thinking about going out with Alan."

"But unlike Red, I AM here."

"Liz! A man that can afford to dress like that can certainly afford a plane ticket."

She nearly spat out her wine, as a sudden burst of laughter bubbled up and overflowed.

"What?" Sally asked, bewildered.

"He uh-he-ahhhhhh," she shook her head, trying to calm her laughter long enough to answer. She wiped a stray tear from her eye. "He won't need a ticket. He has his own jet!" Her laughter started anew, and Sally joined in.

"Are you serious?"

God, she'd had way too much to drink. She couldn't stop laughing. The entire day was just so fucking absurd. With one hand clamped over her mouth, she nodded to confirm that she was telling the truth.

"Well then, it's settled. You WILL set me up with him."

She finished off her glass before responding. "I don't think that's a good idea, Sally."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Why not? What are you not telling me?"

Liz couldn't think of a single safe response. Hell, she couldn't even so much as reveal his full name, lest Sally recognize it. "I'm not telling you a lot of things, actually. I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Then maybe you can set me up with him, and let me find out for myself, hmm?"

She felt like slamming her head against the bar. Why on earth did she even mention Red in the first place? Again, she had no satisfying response.

"Call him," Sally demanded.

Trying to buy time to think, she replied, "If you're this persuasive in the courtroom, then perhaps I should consider hiring you instead of Alan Shore."

"I'd agree, but my litigation style has largely been influenced by him. You're better off with the real thing. Don't EVER tell him that I said that though."

Liz drew an imaginary zipper across her mouth. "My lips are sealed."

"Good. Now call him!"

"Who, Alan?" Liz playfully asked. Her mind raced, trying to reassure herself that if she gave in, nothing too awful would come of it. Nothing would change. Red was probably sleeping with Samar, and even if he wasn't, it would just be someone else. Sally was right. Red wouldn't have to rely on his hand. So, if he's gonna sleep with someone, then it might as well be Sally, right? And maybe, just maybe, setting them up could be the perfect way to prove to Red that she wasn't jealous of the other women in his life. She really wasn't, damnit!

"Don't be daft! Raymond, of course."

"Right." She sighed, rubbing her temples and staring into her empty wine glass.

"Are you sure you have no interest in him? It's just... it seems you doth protest too much."

Oh great. Now she really has to call him, or else Sally won't believe her. "Okay, okay I'll do it, but first, listen closely."

Sally bounced up and down on her barstool, not bothering to contain her excitement. "Okay, I'm listening!"

"Calling him isn't going to guarantee you a date. His schedule is something of a whirlwind, and he travels a lot. There's a good chance that he isn't even in the country right now. He could literally be anywhere."

"That's exactly what I already assumed, what with him owning a jet and all."

"Oh yeah... right. Of course." Her fingernails nervously tapped against the bar.

"Soooo...?" Sally asked, impatient.

"Huh? Oh, sorry." Liz started to slowly scroll through her contacts, yet again pretending that she had more to sift through than she actually did. And she'd never, ever let on to Sally that she had him on speed dial.

"Oh!" Sally interjected. "I have an idea! Send him a picture of me first." She pulled off her sweater, showing off her ample cleavage. "It'll be easier for him to say 'yes' if he knows what he's agreeing to."

Liz's forehead twitched with the effort to keep her eyes from rolling, but she agreed. "Say cheese!"

"Cheddar!"

Smartass. Red would love her.

Sally extended her hand. "Let me see it first."

Liz passed her the phone and ordered another drink.

"Okay, that works. Go ahead and send it."

In order to confirm that he got a chance to see it before she called, Liz fidgeted and sipped her wine, awaiting his reply.

Both women were startled by the phone's sudden buzzing on the countertop. She should have known that Red wouldn't text her back. He probably didn't even know how.

"Ohhhh put it on speaker!"

"No way!" She swiped her finger across the screen. "Hey Red."

He cut right to the chase. "Lizzie, I'm perplexed. Did you just 'butt text' me? I can't say I recognize that woman, though she's very fetching."

She laughed a little too loudly. "That's my friend, Sally."

"Are you drunk? You normally don't sound this happy on the phone." The grin on his face was made evident by the sing-song cadence of his inquiry.

"You! You... hubristic nut!"

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Maybe a little," she relented, erupting into giggles once again.

"So Lizzie, what's the purpose of this little game of show and tell?"

"Would you like to go on a date with her?"

Her response gave him pause. Was it some kind of test? Did she want him to say yes, or no? The prospect of being cold-shouldered for the next six months was troubling, and besides, he wanted Lizzie. The timing was all wrong though, and Red didn't even know how long he'd have to wait to pursue her. "A date? Would you be okay with that?"

"Yes, of course I'm okay with it! Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well it's just th-ah, nevermind. Sure. I'll give her a try. Nothing to lose, right?"

"Right." Ugh, 'a try'? Gross.

"Alright, well, I'll let her know. I've gotta run, so-"

"Give her the phone, please."

His voice had lowered, and Liz squeezed her eyes tightly shut, steeling herself against the shiver that threatened to race up her spine. "Fine."

She passed the phone to Sally. "He would like to have a word with you. I've gotta use the restroom. I'll be right back."

Sally grinned, and Liz speedwalked away, sparing herself from having to listen to their conversation.

They'd already hung up by the time Liz returned. "I HAVE GREAT NEWS," Sally exclaimed.

"Let me guess. He's taking you to Tegucigalpa?" She pasted on a smile.

"No, even better! You'll never guess. We have a double date tomorrow night. Me, you, Red, and Alan!"

She reclaimed her seat on the barstool. "Yes, better..."