AN: A bit different from what I usually write. This is a collection of moments between Red, Lizzie and Agnes. Some happiness for the hiatus. Enjoy and let me know what you think!
It starts with a particularly demanding case and a phone call.
"Red, I'm really sorry, but I don't know how…do you think you could-"
Go to my house? Watch her tonight? Make sure she eats enough? Take care of her?
"Yes, Lizzie. Of course."
She comes home to find him in her armchair, the house quiet.
"Hello, Lizzie. How did your case go?"
"Successfully. Is she sleeping?"
"Yes."
"And things went okay?"
"We had a lovely evening, Agnes and I. She's a wonderful child, Lizzie."
"Thank you, Red."
"My pleasure."
She feels strange, watches him as he grabs his coat and hat, watches him turn before he opens the door.
"Don't hesitate to call me, Lizzie. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to call me."
She calls him the next morning.
He comes over for dinner.
He spends the night for the first time three days later.
He smiles in his sleep now. Just like the little girl.
It's something she's come to notice on the rare occasion she wakes before him. She remembers his sleeping habits from their time on the run together, how he used to wake up distraught, sometimes trembling, yet she never asked the right questions.
This is a different Raymond Reddington altogether. Serene, calm. Not running, not being chased. It's the man underneath the persona, the man she called once to watch her daughter.
He is so full of love for the two of them. There were times she didn't realize this, couldn't have, but she can't imagine life without it now. She can't imagine life without waking up to a kiss on her forehead and his sweet expression.
She might become a morning person after all.
"You're spoiling her, Red."
"I know." He says it with pride, not regret.
She can't help but smile at him.
She likes to watch them.
Sometimes she comes home after an exhausting day at work and there he is, fast asleep on the couch, armor off and sleeves rolled up and his vest unbuttoned, with her resting on his chest, softly rising and falling to the pattern of his breathing, his hand holding her to him safely, instinctively, gently.
Sometimes she wakes in the middle of the night and the bed is empty and the baby monitor gives her a clue, and she silently sneaks up on him in the nursery, the little girl in his arms, much more awake than her mother, which isn't difficult these days, and he is whispering and tells her a story and speaks of magical things, of princesses forgiving monsters, of love and sleep now, sweetheart, and the little girl closes her eyes reluctantly, slowly, slowly, slowly, doesn't want to miss a word he is saying, and she understands that impulse, too. He is quite a gifted storyteller. When he sees her, finally, he smiles and she takes his hand. Come to bed, she says and he nods and kisses her.
Sometimes she walks into the kitchen and sees her strapped into her highchair and he's cooking right by her side, lectures her on the importance of nutritious and healthy ingredients, and she's giggling, entertained by his use of complicated words, and he puts down the utensils and moves towards her, do you find that funny, Agnes, and tickles her cheek and neck, do you, and the house is filled with laughter.
She never thought she could be this happy.
"Would you like to go on a trip, Lizzie?"
"Where would we go?"
"Anywhere you'd like."
"What about work?"
"I could talk to Harold. Surely there are criminals to catch anywhere in the world." He kisses the corner of her lips. "We could call it an investigative expedition."
"How about Spain?"
"Why Spain?"
"Because you once promised me Spain and took me to Iowa instead."
He beams at her and pulls her closer and closer.
The little girl's face lights up every time he looks at her.
Every time her small hand encircles one of his fingers, all the burdens are lifted from his shoulders and he glows.
She'll never tire of the sight. It's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.
Sometimes he needs to leave, ever the businessman and some things can't be delegated, and then he kisses them goodbye, promises he'll be back before they know it.
She misses him the instant he closes the door.
He always comes back with a gift.
They're having dinner, Agnes seated in between them and a spoon quickly approaching her, open your mouth, sweetheart, and the little girl doesn't stand a chance against the pleading eyes of the man in front of her, she really does come after her mother, it's that particular pout of his, the criminal mastermind and his rather unfair methods.
"Good girl," he says.
She can't believe this is her evening routine on most days now, still, after all these months, to have him at her kitchen table, to spend time with him and her daughter, a family and the certainty he will be there in the morning, next to her, always next to her.
She reaches for his hand and holds on to it and he kisses her palm.
Every so often she thinks her heart might burst from sheer affection.
"There's something I'd like to discuss, Lizzie."
"It's about us?"
"Yes."
"Should I be worried?"
"No."
"Do you have to go on another trip?"
"No."
"So?"
"How do you like the idea of us moving? There is a house I'd like to show you and it's rather perfect for the three of us."
"The three of us?"
"Yes. A home for the three of us."
She thinks she might be dreaming.
Files are scattered across the table and she's slowly working her way through them, another day, another case, and she hears them play in the living room, a welcome distraction, the sound she loves the most.
She watches as he puts his fedora on the child's head and she almost disappears.
It's her legs that sway in delight, her muted giggle from underneath the wool.
"Almost as sophisticated as her father," he says while smiling at her and it takes him a second too long until he realizes.
He looks scared and sorry and that just won't do and she's quickly by his side.
"Almost," she says and encircles his waist. "She's getting there."
His kiss is closed eyes and silent gratitude and a million other things.
She had a fantasy once. About a walk in the park and a husband and their little girl.
The reality of it, she thinks, is so much better.