It's Never Simple

He watched the other man place the items in the box one by one. It didn't escape his notice that there was a reverential quality to his actions, and while Dembe was always careful in his work, never sloppy, Red knew his task was weighing heavy on him. He continued to watch from his own corner of the well-lit and ridiculously expensive per square foot storage area as he packed a bag from a box of his own. He wasn't sure what Dembe was doing. They were there to pick up supplies for their newly set up safe house and since Red believed in always being prepared, he had several of these very secure storage areas sprinkled about the US. He made sure they were paid with accounts that couldn't be traced back to him and the storage lofts made it very easy to get what he needed, when he needed it without worrying about being observed. He did keep a safe house or two, but he found they had more strings attached…the more people and moving parts, well the more things can fall apart. He much preferred to set up new safe houses on an as needed basis.

He smirked and whispered under his breath, "Keep it simple", mostly as a reminder to himself because there were several things that were weighing heavy on his mind currently. He wasn't sure the mantra really worked well for everything. Though he had to admit he would like for things to stay that way; at least for a while. After all, simple was easy, quick and done, but his job didn't often allow for simplicity and he knew very few people who would believe he was a simple person at heart. That thought made his lips quirk upward in an odd half-smile as he zipped his bag and slid it to his shoulder. He pulled his hat from atop a nearby stack of banker's boxes, slid it onto his head and then adjusted the fedora in a rather fussy way. His smile spread some at that irony and he bit back the short bark of laughter that bubbled up from his throat. His thoughts often amused him, but right now he had finished his task. He now had several new IDs, passports, credit cards and plenty of walking around money; that is if walking around money meant almost a quarter of a million dollars.

He turned to check on Dembe's progress and noticed he was holding something. While Red couldn't see what it was, he saw Dembe run a hand over it, hesitate and then with a resigned sigh place it into the box.

Red crossed the room while watching this and his eye caught Dembe's eyes before he could close the box. He glanced down, lifted the corner flap and immediately caught a glimpse of its contents. Understanding followed quickly and then a frown, sad and deep, crossed his face. He placed a hand on the larger man's forearm. There was a long pause and then he simply said. "I miss her too my friend."

Dembe nodded. His eyes once again, glued to the box, but he didn't protest when Red's hand slid down to grip his tightly for several long moments. He tightened his own fingers around Red's in a somewhat desperate response.

Then Red released his hand and with a quick movement checked his watch. "I'll be in the car. Finish up quickly, we have somewhere to be."

Red never saw the tears on his friend's face.

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Elizabeth hadn't heard from Raymond Reddington in over two months. As far as she knew, he could be dead. She arched an eyebrow at the thought, she doubted it. Hell, she was pretty damn sure he'd find a way to survive the nuclear holocaust; him, cockroaches and Twinkies. She felt the smile on her face.

"Is something funny Agent Keen?"

Elizabeth suddenly sat up, cursing inwardly at being caught daydreaming during a strategy meeting. She shook her head, felt her face heat. "No sir."

Cooper stepped toward her. "Maybe you want to lead this meeting? He hasn't tried to contact you, has he?"

Her eyes moved to the Assistant Director's face, scanned it for any sign that he really believed she would keep that information from him and then she cleared her throat and shook her head again. Her eyes dropped to the conference table and she hastily paged through the brief in front of her, suddenly desperate for something to do. "Um…no sir, of course not." She was angry that he would even ask her that in front of everyone. She glanced around the table, saw Ressler eyeing her and wished the meeting over. Now.

Cooper nodded. "If he does, you need to keep us informed."

She didn't hesitate this time. "I know. I will, but he hasn't and I don't think he will. He's trying to stay away from me. He thinks that's going to keep me safe. After all that's why he came here in the first place. He felt I was in danger." She swallowed hard. Saying those words were difficult, but knowing why didn't help her figure out his motivation. Oh, she knew he had one. Just like she knew she was part of whatever plan he was putting into place, which was exactly why she couldn't help but feel manipulated. It was after all, what Reddington did. To that end, she struggled to believe almost anything he told her, with the exception of one thing; he wasn't her father. For some reason she actually believed he was telling the truth, but she was convinced that he knew who was. She wondered if he was somehow involved in her parent's death and that did scare her.

Ressler's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Why does he want to keep you safe? What's so special about you, Agent Keen?" His question was heavy with accusation.

Her eyes shot through the room, caught his. The uneasy truce that had existed earlier was once again gone and he was back to talking to her with barely disguised mistrust ever since the last day they'd both seen Reddington. She wasn't quite sure why. Red had saved his damn life and then saved hers.

She took a breath and wondered how she ended up here. Not so much physically, but emotionally. Her attachment to the man, a career criminal who killed as easily as he breathed, a man she'd only read about in textbooks and case files before he turned himself in and demanded to speak with her, flat out unnerved her. She'd been terrified of him at first. She thought it was because of what he was; of what he'd done, but as she'd listened to him, as she worked with him she'd felt it. She'd felt the weird tingle in her brain. The one that told her something wasn't right. Of course, right away all of it was wrong. How could it not be? Here she was being brought in to a black site basically right out of Quantico to handle the man near the top of the FBI, CIA, Scotland Yard and Interpol's most wanted lists. It made no sense; it was surreal.

Yet, she knew in her gut that he was being truthful, or at least as honest as someone in his position could be. She felt it in her heart that somehow she had a connection to this man. It was a connection that she didn't understand, but she knew he completely understood. She felt again like she was high school standing just outside the clique of cool girls and not quite being in on the joke, but desperately wanting to be. Right now if she just played along a little while longer…if she just did what was asked, well surely he'd reward her with his special knowledge.

She told herself it was for her job, all of it for this damn job even as she watch her marriage start to fall apart and possibly even her career. She told herself that she was going to do it for the FBI, but deep inside she was lying to herself because there was something more. It was even deeper, something she kept secret and hidden even from herself, because it only ever pulsed to life in her sleep and crept out like some weird Boogey Man from the deepest recesses of her subconscious. She'd wake feeling fragile, flustered and unsure with sweat soaking her hair to her head, pulse racing and her breath caught in her throat. It would take a long time for the tension to fade and even the morning light wouldn't chase it completely away. Tom had noticed, commented and she was left only to deny its existence. She simply refused to admit it, hell it shouldn't even be possible. But dammit she felt it-a physical connection that flowed between her and Reddington; something slow with a steady a low constant hum; something expectant and heavy, but just out of reach. A frisson of something palpable, but still intangible that she felt obliged to fight. She refused to admit that there was any connection at all, even when it took her breath away and sent her senses spinning. She didn't understand it and she wasn't sure she wanted to. Hell, she struggled to even define what "it" was. When she had wondered if, thought maybe and at times even hoped that Red was her father, it had made a sort of twisted sense to her, but when he told her he wasn't and she'd believed him, well it had left her to battle with feelings that she didn't want.

"Well Liz? In your professional opinion, why has Reddington fixated on you?" Ressler smirked and assumed what he probably thought was a dominant posture of challenge; leaned back in his chair with crossed arms.

"I wish I knew just like everyone else. It would sure as hell make tracking him down a lot easier, but then we'd have an advantage and Raymond Reddington doesn't willingly give his adversaries advantages does he?" There was a bit of an edge to her voice and some coldness to her eyes as she watched him. She really didn't care if he believed her. She'd had enough of him and anyone else who thought she wasn't loyal. She knew where Cooper stood and he was on her side. That's really all that mattered to her right now.

Ressler opened his mouth to say something else, but he didn't have a chance because someone else asked a question and Cooper moved on. Liz was thankful and the rest of the meeting was a blur, but Liz managed to at least stay on task and pay attention. There had been no reliable new intel on Reddington's location. No movement of monies from his various known accounts. No activity in any of his known safe houses and nothing had popped up under any of his aliases. Of course, since he'd evaded capture all these years that was hardly news to anyone at the table. The man was like a mist when he wanted to disappear.

The meeting broke and Liz stood and headed to her desk. It was Friday, almost three and she had the weekend off. She wasn't really looking forward to heading to her lonely apartment now that she'd moved out of the house, but she didn't have much choice. Life wasn't easy, leaving Tom was one of the hardest things she'd done. She hated living alone. It felt like a step backward and the apartment was just so depressing. She knew that was mostly due to its lack of contents. Other than her clothes and toiletries, she'd only furnished it with a bed, nightstand, loveseat, TV and two cheap barstools from Target. She hadn't decorated because she hadn't planned on staying that long, but the short term lease was up next month and then she needed to decide if she was signing on for a year or moving elsewhere. Searching for another place sounded miserable, but staying where she was didn't appeal to her either. With a sigh she gathered her things and headed toward the exit.

BLBLBLBL

Red sipped tea and stared out over the city from the window seat of the apartment he had leased under the name Henry C. Lipinski. He closed his eyes and let the music he was listening to seep through his thoughts. Placido Domingo's voice soared as he beseeched the audience to look past his costume and see him not as an actor, but as a human being of flesh and blood; a person with a soul. Red wondered what that was like sometimes…to not play a part. His eyebrows drew together as he sighed. His eyes slowly opened when he heard Dembe's entry. He stood and moved to the turntable because he knew from Dembe's face he had something to say, but also knew he wouldn't speak until the music was over. So, Red simply ended the music by lifting the tuning arm and then faced his friend.

"Is it done?" He held up his cup. "Tea? I had it mixed special and sent in from some place I found online." He sipped, cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips. "It's not quite the same as that little shop in Singapore we like, but it's serviceable." He watched Dembe and then moved to the couch to sit. He sipped again and then set his cup down on the saucer and crossed his legs.

Dembe shook his head and set down a handful of letters and a small box on the coffee table beside the tea service. "Yes, it's done." He motioned to the small pile of correspondence. "I collected the mail." He glanced around the large living room and nodded. "It's starting to look like home again."

Red lifted his eyes from sorting through the mail. He caught the wistful look on the other man's face and he felt an echoing pang of pain as well. He knew that it looked like home, but it didn't feel quite that way. He lifted his chin toward the desk by the fireplace. "I put it over there." He watched Dembe for a second longer and then added. "It will always be home as long as you're with me." He smiled a bit sadly before turning his attention back to the mail. "After all, I need someone to pick up my mail and I do prefer your driving to my own."

Dembe smiled. He knew Red was expressing himself in his own way. "How touching." He quipped, watched Red's lips twitch in a half smile and then he slipped over to the desk, his hand dragged over the heavy wood and then paused over the picture frame. He picked it up with a genuine smile and carried it over to the chair beside the couch Red was on. He sank into the soft leather and threw a leg over the arm of the chair.

Red watched from under his lashes as the other man traced a finger over the picture under the glass in the frame. Red took his time opening mail. He slid a finger under the flap of an envelope and pulled out the heavy vellum as he watched emotion cross Dembe's face. It wasn't a simple emotion, but a flash of several complex and deep feelings from stark pain to loss and the finally desperation.

Red unfolded the handwritten letter and spoke softly. "She would have liked it here." He nodded toward the window seat. "She always liked the big windows with seats." He waited until Dembe glanced at him and then he winked. There was a smirk on his lips.

Dembe chuckled then and nodded. "Yes, she would have." He surveyed the window. "We are up high, you can see the streets well."

"Mmm, and you…what about you my friend? I think you like big windows as well?"

"If she was happy so was I."

Red watched as the happy memory faded and with it the smile slid from his lips and his eyes.

The darkness was back and Dembe shifted in the chair with a frown. "It is getting too hard to be…still."

"You don't have to stay all the time." He looked up over the tops of his glasses, pausing in the middle of reading the first page of the letter. "But know…I appreciate it."

Dembe shrugged. "I have nowhere and no one." His voice was thick with emotion. His eyes were almost desperate.

Red sat up and gripped the knee Dembe had resting over the chair arm, the pressure steady and strong as their eyes met. "You have here and you have me. You only have to ask for what you need." The words were spoken softly, yet they managed to sound more like an order than an offer.

Dembe searched Red's eyes and saw a hardness there that turned the usual warm blue into the color of winter ice. "I…I…" Dembe shivered and then blinked as if a spell had broken. He took a deep breath and then looked to the window with a nod. "I know. It's still too raw."

Red's hand squeezed and then he released his grip. "The arrangement hasn't changed." He settled back into his seat and resumed the perusal of his letter. There was long pause and then he asked. "So, tell me have we heard anything new from Christoph?"

Dembe shifted, planting both feet on the floor and setting the picture on the coffee table. He shook his head. "Nothing yet. She's still in the apartment. He's still at the house."

"Good." He smiled and handed Dembe the letter he'd been reading. "This needs to be destroyed."

He nodded, took the letter and headed into the other room to burn it.

Red reached for the picture and slowly moved toward the desk as he smiled at people smiling back at him. It was the only picture in existence of the three of them together. There was no negative and no other print. Somewhere on the Great Wall they'd had a stranger snap their picture like ordinary tourists. It had been taken during a stretch of several days that Red had actually felt somewhat ordinary. They'd hiked, discovered noodle and tea shops and then made love only to stay in bed afterward for almost twenty four full hours. He traced a finger over Luli's face and then over Dembe's before he realized he was crying. And that was only when a tear splashed onto the glass in the frame. He wiped his eyes and in a rush put the frame down when a phone rang by the couch.

BLBLBLBL

Liz shoved her coat off her shoulders and dropped it over the barstool at counter. She frowned at her mail. Mostly junk, a plainly wrapped small package and two bills. She sighed, opened the fridge and pulled out one of the three Coronas left. She opened it, took a long drink and then tossed the junk mail, shoved the bills against the wall to be dealt with later and picked up the package.

She moved to the couch, dropped down, kicked off her shoes and stared at the package as she drank the beer. When she'd made it through about half the beer she decided she'd waited long enough. There was no return address, it was wrapped in plain brown paper and her name and address were neatly printed by hand. She knew immediately who it was from. There was only one person in the world that called her Lizzie.

She realized she was shaking as she slid her hand over the paper and her heart pounded in her chest. She reached into her pocket for her keys and slid them under the tape to break the seal, all the while she felt like a kid on Christmas morning. The wrap off, then a box, then inside it there was only a phone. She turned it on and went to contacts. There was only one listed; friend. She hit the dial button and raised her shaky hand to her ear.

BLBLBLBL

Red didn't hesitate. His phone was currently on the desk, so there was only one possible source of the sound. He moved back to the couch and reached for the box Dembe had placed on the coffee table. He managed to scatter the remaining letters, but he didn't care. He pulled the lid from the box and removed the prepaid cell phone. He accepted the call, schooled his voice to be calm and answered.

"Lizzie, how nice of you to call."

She answered her voice shaky and unsure. "Re…Red? Are you okay? Where are you?"

"Where I am is immaterial. Where are you right at this moment? Are you sure it's safe to talk?" He moved toward the window and then out of habit, changed his mind and headed toward his desk. "Your apartment isn't bugged is it?"

When she didn't immediately answer, he figured her brow was furrowed and she was confused. He chuckled, "Oh come now Lizzie, you don't think I haven't kept up on things do you?"

"I…as far as I know it's clear. I'll go walk."

He heard her moving, probably getting her coat. "Good, that would be nice. Tell me, has Tom been staying away?" A door closed, there was a jangle of keys.

"Yes. Oh my god, how do you know everything?"

He heard movement, the ding of an elevator. He smiled. "I know plenty Lizzie, but not everything." Dembe had returned from his task of burning the letter and he pointed to the phone. Dembe immediately understood and started moving. "But you didn't answer me about Tom."

She made an exasperated sound. "We talk, but it's not good, mostly we argue. Now will you tell me if you're okay?"

"I'm fine Lizzie." He said softly as he stood and moved toward his own door, grabbing his coat and hat as he went. "I'm adjusting."

"Is Dembe…"

"He's fine, he's still with me. I'll let him know you were worried. He'll be touched." He slid into the car waiting at the curb and pulled the door shut behind him.

BLBLBLBL

Liz walked and kept the conversation going. She knew she wasn't going to get much out of him, but hell, she didn't even care. Her heart was pounding. It was about hearing his voice. For the first time since he'd disappeared two months ago she almost felt safe. She couldn't say calm, because there was a twisting in her gut that she couldn't explain. Excitement maybe, she was flustered for sure. She told herself it was because she was breaking rules and was putting herself in danger. After all, people who wanted Reddington dead might come after her to get to him. They knew she was one of his weaknesses now, but deep inside she knew that wasn't it. She knew it was something else entirely. Her heart pounded, her palms were sweaty and her nerves were on edge. She crossed the street after walking several blocks and when she came to a café she went inside, ordered a large coffee and then settled on a bench across the street from the café in a small park.

It was chilly outside, but it wasn't unbelievably cold. She pulled on her gloves and turned up her collar as she sipped her coffee and listened to Red question her. She tried to avoid the questions she didn't want to answer and give half answers to those she felt she could. She finished her coffee, talked and then got up and walked through the park as they talked some more. She occasionally stopped, sat or leaned, but mostly she kept moving to keep the chill at bay.

She took a deep breath. "You need to come in Red."

"I can't, it's too dangerous."

The words hung heavy between them. "For who, you or me?"

He snorted. "Wasn't our last foray more than enough to show you exactly how dangerous things can be? Me, you, Agent's Ressler and Cooper? Luli? Do you want more dead agents laid at your feet Lizzie? Isn't that what's happening?"

She inhaled sharply. "How do you…" her voice trailed off as he interrupted.

"I know how organizations work. Blame is placed somewhere. I won't be blamed since they see me as a necessary evil. What they don't want to admit is that without you, there is no me." There was an acid laugh. "It's an orchestra and I direct, they just haven't realized that quite yet." He made a sound of contempt and then paused to take a breath. His voice was smooth and almost seductive in her ear when he added. "You were my choice Lizzie. It wasn't a coincidence that I turned myself in when I did, now was it?" He paused again and she could hear him breathe through the phone. "I wanted you…" His voice dropped to just above a whisper. "I still want you and you should know by now that always get what I want."

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Red shifted against the leather of the seat and fiddled with the hat beside him. He heard her gasp and smiled. "Does that make you uncomfortable Elizabeth?" He imagined the look on her face and fought his own soft noises.

She cleared her throat before answering him. "I, um know you wanted me to work with you…I'm still not sure why."

He threw his head back and laughed, relieving the tension between them just a bit. "I'll let you play it off that way this time, but let's be honest, we both know exactly what I meant." He wished he could see her to better gauge her reaction. Soon enough he figured…soon enough.

She made a frustrated sound and then, "I know you know who my parents were."

"I know many things." He shrugged. He knew she'd bring this up soon enough. He glanced at his watch. "Do you realize that we've been talking for almost two hours?"

"What? I…are you sure?" There was noise on her end of the phone. "Oh my god…I've been wandering this park for an hour and a half."

"Aren't you cold, the weather forecast has the temperature down to thirty there."

"A little. I probably should head home." She snorted.

"There a problem with calling your apartment home?" He asked with an easy smile. He'd seen pictures of the inside of the apartment. "Did you apply for the Ikea credit card? Honestly Lizzie, I took you for having better taste."

She cursed under her breath, calling the man on the other end of the phone several horrible things as she stepped into the street at the crosswalk. Just then a dark car pulled up, the door opened and the voice in her ear said. "Get in the car Lizzie, now."