This one shot story is set many many months after Red returns. Tom is out of the picture (you can tell how I want the story to go) but I'm not going into that here or giving reasons.
I know the day has passed but this is set on Christmas Eve, it came to me last night and I didn't want to waste the idea - I suppose it could just as easily be set around Lizzie's birthday.
Really this is just a bit of holiday fun ;-)
I'm also writing the epilogue for The Devil in Disguise/Fool Me Once – I should post that in the next few days.
A First Time for Everything
They had worked closely alongside each other since the moment of his return. He was steady and certain in her world when everything with Tom fell apart. Red didn't comment, didn't pass judgement, didn't make her speak about it when she wasn't ready.
Case after case he involved her, brought her close, took her to dangerous situations where he shielded and protected her. They'd made such headway with the Blacklist that even Ressler had warmed to her.
Together they'd gone undercover for short times; sometimes an evening, sometimes a few days. She'd expected it to be difficult, for him to play the advantage but he always remained the perfect gentleman.
Not that he didn't sometimes say things that were risqué but he'd been doing that since the moment they met, the lack of such comments would have been more of a worry to her.
On evenings when she was most struggling they would sit looking out the window at the vanishing light, his presence a comfort to her. And when her confidence returned they spent hours chatting about cases, their lives, places they'd visited, books they had read.
She knows he hears when she spurns the advances of an enamoured colleague, asking her out now that she's newly single. He doesn't say anything about it, not that day nor in the evening or any other night.
She wonders what their relationship has evolved into, she feels guarded about it and barely lets herself consider that she spends many days and most evenings with him. More than with any other person.
But then the demands of her job take over and she has little time to consider anything.
One evening, having finally captured a particularly elusive Blacklister, a task that took weeks of time and energy, they return to Red's favourite abode. She is exhausted and plans to go home but he reminds her that it's Christmas Eve and not wanting to return to her empty house she gladly accepted his offer of a drink.
So as they walk in she's surprised to see a luxuriously decorated Christmas tree in the corner of the room, shining and glowing, its light illuminating the darkness.
"Wow" she says going over for a closer look.
"Can I get you a drink?" He asks, watching her admire the tree.
"Eh yes please, whatever you're having, don't go to any trouble". She says lightly touching the delicate decorations. She's surprised he's indulged in a tree, he won't stay in the same location long and he probably won't stay the night, no matter how much he enjoys Fredrick's view.
She herself hasn't had the time or inclination to bother with a tree. What would she put under it? Gifts for herself? No. Besides they haven't had time, she needed reminding it even was Christmas Eve.
He passes her a drink, she thanks him and sips it, continuing to look at the tree.
"Why do you have a tree?" She says as she walks around the small table towards her designated space on the sofa. She's finally giving up her wondering and just asking him.
"If I didn't have a tree where would I put your gift?" He says calmly.
She stops, turning to face him and smiles - thinking she's sharing the joke with him. But as he stoops to retrieve the small parcel from under the tree her smile drops.
She watches him as he lifts and carries over a small white parcel with a red silk ribbon.
"Merry Christmas Lizzie" he says softly as he hands it over.
She just stares at it like she's unaccustomed to receiving gifts, like she has never experienced the thrill of pulling back the paper and seeing what someone has selected for you.
She thinks how the ribbon and paper are strangely at odds. The ribbon closely woven and obviously decedent, while the paper is light, like acid free tissue used to wrap expensive clothes.
When she continues to stare at it he takes the glass from her hand and places it on the table. "You could open it". He suggests.
"Oh ok" she says sounding apprehensive.
She slowly unties the ribbon and lets it drop to the floor. She pulls at the tissue, pulling the layers around the object until its cover is revealed to her in its entirety.
And there in her hands is a copy of Jane Austen's Persuasion. An old copy by her estimation. Carefully she removes more of the paper, turning the book in her hands, admiring the faded colours and the careful binding. When she's turned it back round she lifts her hand and gently traces the letters of the title with her finger.
"I couldn't desecrate it by writing an inscription, not on something so precious, so inside you will find a note with my message". He says stepping close to her side.
She delicately opens the cover, and inside the title page she finds a small piece of paper folded in two. She runs her finger over the paper, feeling its quality, nervously wondering what he has to say. With her right hand she folds back the page and finds his neat red cursive script. She focuses her eyes, which had begun to mist over and reads;
'A first edition copy of what I know to be your favourite novel.
The first gift I have ever had the pleasure of giving you.
The first time you will hear me tell you that I love you.'
As she finishes reading the words he soundlessly steps closer, bridging the final distance between their bodies and says softly into her ear, "I love you Lizzie".
Involuntarily she closes her eyes as his words reach her. At the same moment she takes a slow deep breath. It's not just the words but the warmth of his tone and his intoxicating presence, accompanied by his unmistakably rich and dark scent. She drinks in the moment like the multi sensory experience it is.
On the exhale she opens her eyes and looks back down at the page, she folds over the note and carefully closes the book, keeping his message tucked inside. She turns the book and tissue in her hand, moving it down till she's holding it in front of her like you would a small purse. She stands silently, looking down at her gift, attempting to ignore the slight tremble in her hands.
He watches her closely, he watched as she closed her eyes, watched as she breathed and reacted. He knows despite her physical reaction that she's processing what he's said. He wants to interrupt her before she stops that and moves on to predicting what it means.
"Lizzie" he starts but she suddenly steps away; wary of their close proximity.
He stills, lets her find a distance she's comfortable with before he speaks again. He sees her chest quickly rise and fall, demonstrating her unease in the moment.
"I've frightened you" he says softly.
"Yes... No" she says then swallows. Then she continues, "I'm startled I guess. You've caught me a little unawares". She explains, looking at him nervously from across the room.
"That was not my intention. I'm sorry" he says.
She shakes her head slightly, as if dismissing his apology. But she won't meet his eyes.
"Lizzie, I am in love with you. I kept it from you until I thought you were ready to hear". He says.
She stares at him now, all wide eyed; surprised, "you kept it from me for how long?" She asks him.
He doesn't respond, just smiles softly at her, allowing her to draw her own conclusions.
She stands silently for a while, thinking it all over in her head, assessing briefly how her own feeling for him have grown and developed. Then she pushes those thought aside, life is complicated enough without ... Without this.
Then she starts to move towards the door, taking a route round the far side of the table. "I can't accept this" she says.
"The words or the book?" He asks continuing to stand calmly.
His words still her, stop her on her path. The silence extends between them; there is no answer in it, for him or for her.
"Red" she says, her breathing shallow and uneasy again.
He walks slowly around to meet her. When he stops in front of her he sees apprehension in her eyes, maybe a little fear.
"Now ordinarily you know I'm a patient man Lizzie" he says letting the truth of the words hang between them, "but you are yet to acknowledge or thank me for my gift, it's a little ungrateful and truth be told I'm starting to feel a little unappreciated".
She thinks in her mind what to say, but he's being playful now, teasing her with his words. It's throwing her, maybe this is all a ruse after all, she can't be certain if his words are in earnest or not.
"Thank you" she says then. Her tone cool, her emotions having been reined in and checked.
"That's all I get? For so thoughtful a gift?" He says, his tone of voice deeper; less teasing more tempting.
She just tilts her head up slightly in acknowledgement.
"Surely a gift of such meaning deserves more of a reward" he says in the same seductive tone, "yet it's hard to know what would be appropriate" he continues stepping closer again.
She just stares at him, disbelief and uncertainty holding her steady.
"I'm going to kiss you now" is all he says as he slowly and deliberately moves in, slipping his arms around her.
She's routed to the spot like a statue, holding her breath, just watching him come nearer. She doesn't move, so when his lips finally meet hers they find her unresponsive.
"Lizzie" he growls as he lifts his hand, using his thumb to gently pull her chin causing her lips to part, before leaning back in.
It's this gesture that does it, and his heat, and the feeling and pressure of his mouth, his alluring presence; snapping her out of her stupor and allowing her to respond. This time she closes her eyes, moves with him, responds to his movements, his desire.
He has to stop himself smiling at her reaction; he hadn't planned to goad her into this. He thought she might just leave him when she heard the words, that maybe she'd become awkward around him, not knowing what to say or how to act. But her delayed departure forced him to think on his feet; and he's not sorry.
Encouraged by her response he slips his tongue into her mouth. She doesn't make a sound but he feels her body press into his slightly. He runs his hands over her, lost in her, enjoying the experience he'd barely allowed himself to imagine.
When they finally stop he continues to hold her close, resting his forehead on hers while they both catch their breath.
After a few minutes he steps back but continues to observe her. She takes a breath and says in a teasing tone, "was that gratitude enough for you?" He smiles in response, watching her moist lips and her eyes as they sparkle with desire.
"More than I hoped for" he responds truthfully but in the same playful way.
"Well it's a very good book" she says.