A/N: Wow guys, thank you so much for all of the comments! I actually didn't expect any for the first chapter so that was a delightful treat! Yall keep them coming because believe me when I say it helps my muse! Although I ship Lizzie and Red, I have to admit I ship Red with his three piece suits as well! That man KNOWS how to dress! lol. alright, here is chapter one...
10 days earlier...
Elizabeth Keen sat behind her cluttered desk at the Black Site they called the Post Office. Her eyes stared at a large folder placed before her on the desk. It was not another case, nor another name on Red's blacklist. No, this was something much scarier. She had no idea how long she had sat and stared, but she could not find the strength to open the folder. Not without Red there beside her. She had picked the folder up several times, turned it upside down, sideways and every which way she could, but her fingers shook too bad to actually open it.
Within the orange, plain folder held the answer to a question that had been the in the center of her mind for months. Ever since Red had burst into her life, she had wondered about why he had chosen her. She was fresh out of the academy, had not even proven her worth to the FBI, but he had been so adamant to be teamed up with her.
For the longest time she had prayed the answer to that nagging question was a big fat no. She did not want to be connected to Red anymore than she already was. He was a criminal, a killer. He was the exact embodiment of why she wanted to join the FBI and make the world better. But that was then. Now, her reasons for wanting the answer to be no had changed. The folder mocked her, laughed at her weakness. She massaged her forehead as a headache the size of a sledgehammer began to play the drums on her brain. As if her life had not been turned upside down as it was, she had thoughts and feelings so insane she did not even know where to begin to deal with them. And it all centered around a certain Fedora wearing, complicated man, who just so happened to be walking into her office at that exact moment.
"Lizzie!" he greeted in his usual cheerful voice. He always had a unique way of making her feel as if she was the center of his word just by the mere mention of her name. Right now, though, she just needed some aspirin. When she raised her eyes to meet his she watched his smile falter. His eyes grew alert at once as he walked the rest of the way into her office. "What's wrong?" concern etched in his words.
He stopped beside her chair, gently placing his hand upon her shoulder and squeezing lightly. Just that slightest touch caused her stomach to do flips and the sledgehammer to pound harder into her head. Wincing, she went back to massaging her temples. "Headache," she mumbled. Before he could respond, she pointed towards the folder. After several moments of silence she raised her face to look at him again.
He was staring at her, his expression unreadable. When had she lost the ability to read him? She was an FBI profiler for God's sake, yet here this man stood and had the power to completely close himself off to her.
"You know what that is?" she asked softly.
Without a word he picked the folder up and opened it. Lizzie's eyes grew wide, her eyes searching his face for any signs of what the folder's contents read. She watched his eyes move back and forth as he read, yet his stoned face never changed. He could have been reading the Sunday Times for all she knew. Several times she opened and closed her mouth, desperate to ask the one question that scared the hell out of her.
"Lizzie, let's get away this week," Red said, nonchalantly as he closed the folder and placed it inside the pocket of his coat. "I know this exquisite little place we could go for a sunset gondola ride in Naples! My goodness it's been, what, ten years since I've been on a gondola ride."
She watched as his eyes grew distant, no doubt caught in a long ago memory. How was he able to do that, just switch to another thought so easily? He had just read the answer to a mind blowing question and all he could talk about was Naples and gondola rides.
"Are you serious?" she croaked, her face growing ashen. "You are unbelievable!" Anger rose up within her. Was everything always a joke with him. Could he not just be serious and talk with her as if they were both two normal, sane adults. Riddles and stories, that is how Red handled the difficult talks and she found herself almost always having more questions that answers. "You know what, a week in Naples sounds wonderful, Red. I think that is just what I need, time spent away from you!" she said harshly, standing from her seat and gathering her things. Her headache was becoming a full blown migraine. The best medicine was to get away from Red.
"I told you that this wasn't necessary, Lizzie. I have never lied to you, nor will I ever. I think I've proven that enough. It shouldn't be questioned further," he said softly, as if speaking to a child.
"Your lack of answers are the reason I needed to do it," she mumbled as she grabbed her briefcase stuffing papers inside. "Or how about I just needed to see solid proof. Why does everything have to be so complicated with you?" She was frustrated, but at what she was not entirely sure. She could just as easily chalk it up to Red and his ways, but there was something scratching at the surface, something she was not ready to deal with. Something along the lines of having growing feelings for the man in front of her, a man who could very possibly be related to her.
"Have dinner with me tonight. We can sit down and talk about the contents of the folder. Did it answer your questions once and for all?" Red asked.
With a heavy sigh, Lizzie stopped packing up her work and stared at him for a few moments before answering. "I couldn't make myself look," she finally whispered.
His forehead scrunched up in confusion. Those green orbs bore into hers as he assessed the situation as to why she would ask for a paternity test yet not take the time to read the final results. If his word had not been good enough for her, why did she not looked relieved that she would finally know the truth, or at least a small part of the truth. In usual Red style, he recovered quickly and smiled.
"Well then, if you would like to know the results join me for dinner tonight at my place," he said, turning to leave.
"You don't have a place," Lizzie responded, a ghost of a smile tickling her lips. This was another thing that baffled Lizzie about Red. In the midst of such turmoil and confusion he knew how to make her smile. He knew how to make her feel some sense of normalcy by pointing out his shortcomings.
"Sweetheart, I have several different places, just none I call my home! I'll be at the writers home until my flight leaves out in the morning. Come and join me, Lizzie. I think I have read just about every manuscript there is to get my hands on, so I am finding myself easily bored these days.
"Are you really going to Naples?" she asked before he could walk out. Turning around in his three piece, expensive grey suit and fedora hat, he smiled his signature smile. "The water is calling to me Lizzie. The wind in the sails and the sound of laughter awaits my arrival." He turned and took a step towards her, his face growing serious. "I'm serious. Come with me," he asked softly.
She had almost said yes. For the briefest of moments, she felt the words on the tip of her tongue, felt the wind he referred to sweeping in her hair. She had never been to Naples, Italy, but she knew of its beauty and splendor. Not only that, but it would give them both time away from their work on the blacklist. What would that even be like? What would Red really be like on a vacation? No work, no danger, just a relaxing few days hidden away in paradise. She shook her head, chuckling at the thought. With Red there was always danger lurking around somewhere.
"Some people work for a living, Red. We can't all have our own planes and make illegal money from the basement of a soccer mom's house," Lizzie said, giving him a knowing look.
"Lizzie, how can you say that?!" Red said in mock hurt. "I dare say I work more than any one in this building. The only difference, my dear, is our definition of work."
"Well my job doesn't give me the liberty to just hop in a plane and go where ever I want for a vacation." Lizzie stopped and turned towards Red, her voice growing serious. "Why are you going? Tell me the truth."
"I need a vacation, Lizzie. I haven't had one in twenty years. I'd like you to go, which I have stated several times in the past five minutes." Harold Cooper walked in the room, wrapped up in the morning paper and drinking his coffee. The Assistant Director of Counter-terrorism for the FBI had grown used to having the fourth most wanted man in the country invading his workplace. "Harold, it is a pleasure to see you today. I'd like to inform you that Lizzie will be accompanying me on vacation to Naples, Italy. As her boss I thought you should be the first to know."
"No," Harold responded. The man did not look up from his newspaper as he passed Lizzie and Red. They watched him retreat into his office and close the door.
"Give him a little bit to warm up to the idea and we will ask him again later on," Red said, grinning from ear to ear.
Lizzie chuckled. There was one thing that could be said about Red. He did not stop at the word no. "I'm sorry, Red. I told you I had to work. My case load is piling up and I need to get caught up on the paperwork."
"Don't you get tired, Lizzie?" Red asked, turning towards her and cutting the distance between them. He was so close to her. She could smell the hint of aftershave and something that was all Red. "The same bad guys will be up to no good next week...when we return. Just come with me, Lizzie."
His voice took on a low and deep tone as it always did when he was being serious and intimate. If it were only as simple as climbing on a plane and leaving everything behind. If it were only that simple to leave behind the destruction that was her life, leave behind the questions that refused to be answered.
"I can't," she finally answered, surprised to feel her heart sink. Did she want to go with him? Yes, she realized that she did, which only caused her more grief and discomfort. It also brought her back to the fact that in his pocket was the answer to that overwhelming question of was he her father. Her eyes darted towards his pocket, contemplating on whether to just reach inside and take it from him.
"Dinner tonight. six o'clock," Red demanded. He turned away before she had time to reach in and grab the folder. She watched, annoyed, as he walked away deflating the air in the room with his absence.
Lizzie told herself the only reason why she stood in front of the house Red resided in for that week was to get the paternity test results. He had known she would come if he took the folder without letting her see. As the taxi drove off, she was left standing in semi darkness contemplating was it worth it to step over the threshold of the lion's den. She had come to him several times, but it had always been under the pretenses that she did not know why she was there. Tonight felt different. She had come for a purpose and, although, on the outside it looked as though she was here for the paternity results Lizzie knew it was much more than that. He was going away for four days. Had they been apart for that long since he had entered her life? She could not recall. If truth be told, she knew she would miss him in some weird, dysfunctional way.
Dembe greeted her with a smile, not saying a word as usual. He stepped aside to allow her to enter and the moment her foot touched the hard wood floor the smell of something delicious blanketed all around her.
"Is he cooking?" Lizzie asked. She was unable to hide the surprise in her voice.
"Yes, ma'am," Dembe replied, chuckling.
She followed the man into the sitting area and as time ticked away she became more aware of just how hungry she was. With the massive headache she suffered from earlier she had missed lunch. Now, her stomach protested loudly at her neglect.
"Lizzie!" Red said, greeting her as he always did. "I had the most perfect thought right before you came walking through my door. I saw you on the back of the gondola. You were wearing this large sun hat and laughing like there was no care in the world!"
"Red, I've already told you I can't go. Maybe next time, but Harold isn't going to let me off."
The smile on his face faltered, but Red recovered with ease. She did not know what made her stomach flip more, the size of the smile he gave only to her or the intense stare he saved only for her presence.
"I hope you're hungry, Lizzie. I don't get to cook that often and I might have gone a little overboard," Red said, leading her into the dining room. Overboard was an understatement. The large dining table was filled with plates and platters of food from one end to the other.
"Are you expecting more people to arrive?" Lizzie said, laughing.
"I hope not," Red responded.
They fell into light conversation as Lizzie had her fill of smoked salmon with a hint of mint sauce, asparagus and a salad. She slumped in her chair when the final piece of salmon disappeared from her plate. She had ate too much and felt miserable, but Red had outdone himself. She had no idea he could cook that good. "I don't have to worry about the food being poisoned, do I?" she said, meaning it as a joke. When he did not answer, she glanced towards him.
He was sitting as still as stone, boring in to her. The intensity of his stare captured her very attention and she waited on pins and needles for his response. It was just a joke, she did not actually think he had poisoned her, but perhaps she had overstepped their fragile boundaries.
"I'd never hurt you, Lizzie," he said, his voice so quiet, yet his words slapped her square in the face. Red rose from his chair and walked towards her, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out the folder and opened it before her. She only needed to look down to see if, in fact, Red was her father or not. Her heart began to pound loudly in her ears. Sweat begin to build above her lip. Did she want to know? Yes, she had to know. "Again, I have never lied to you, but if you need proof there it is."
He did not wait for her to read the folder, but turned and headed back towards his seat. She waited until he was seated to finally look down and come face to face with the answer she had been wanting for months. For a moment, she had forgotten how to read English. The words were a jumbled mess, as if a toddler had written the answers. Concentrating, the words came into focus and she read to herself.
"Not the biological father," she whispered.
Had she known this the whole time? And what was these feelings she felt beginning to bubble to the surface. She was happy, relieved, even ecstatic. But she also felt alone, lost and insecure. No, she did not want to be Red's daughter, for more reasons than his criminal background, but if he was not her father then who was? Lizzie was an orphan again.
Tears sprang to her eyes and she swiped at them angrily. She did not want to cry in front of him, not really able to pinpoint exactly why she was crying.
"Lizzie, what's wrong?" Red asked, his words soft and gentle.
She shook her head, finally looking up and meeting his stare. "Nothing...everything. I don't know. I didn't want to be your daughter, but not being your daughter only reminds me that I don't know who my parents are."
"Lizzie, please don't cry."
"How can you ask me not to cry? You know the answers I so desperately need, yet you refuse to give them to me. You hide behind a screen of protecting me, but I don't believe that's the case. There's a reason you won't tell me who I really am and where I come from." She knew her words were harsh, knew her face was stoned anger, but she felt all the emotions hitting her at once and she needed a release. Red just so happened to be sitting right in front of that release. "You chide me when I keep things from you, yet that is what our relationship consists of. You keeping secrets from me."
"You may not understand why I do it, Lizzie, but I mean only to protect you. I swear it," Red responded softly.
"From what?" she whispered.
Red opened his mouth as if to answer her, but his jaw slammed shut. As usual, when this specific topic came up, she watched the uncertainty swimming behind his green orbs. Red wanted to tell her the truth, yet something held him back. She wanted to know why. Perhaps she was not asking the right questions. Perhaps she needed to start at another angle.
"The night of the fire, you were there we both know that. Did you kill my parents?" she asked.
"No," he said without hesitation. "Come to Naples with me."
"What is it that you are so scared to tell me?" Lizzie whispered.
As if she had not just asked him a question, he smiled and said, "They have the best Baklava I have had the pleasure of tasting."
She sighed. He had answered her question, but he had also changed the subject. This was the game he always liked to play. A tug of war deminatrated through questions. She gave him a little. He would give her even less.
"Harold already told you I couldn't go. Red, I have so much work to do. Why don't you stay here instead. You can wait until I can take some vacation days and then we can go if it is so important to you to go."
Red looked as though he were thinking this through. He finally shook his head. "I have to go now. An old friend of mine lives in Naples. It's time I pay him a visit."
"Did you leave me to die in the flames?" Her voice cracked at the brief memory of flames licking at her skin. She was desperately trying to get them back on the subject of what happened the night of the fire. She was losing him and soon her chance for answers would be gone. But another question entered her mind, causing her to hesitate and wonder if she even wanted to know about that night. What if he said yes? What would she do if she found out Red had turned away from her and left her there to die that night. Could she ever look at him the same again?
Red looked away, the connection between them shattered. She watched him clench and unclench his jaw. The haunting memory of that night played upon his features like a movie reel. He would not break the silence that had lasted twenty years, and she began to realize why. His lack of response could only mean one thing. He had, in fact, left her there to die. The idea hurt her in a way that surprised her. The thought that Red would not have cared to save her crushed her.
Suddenly, the room felt as though it had shrunk to the size of a small closet. Lizzie needed fresh air, feeling as though her lungs were filled with smoke. She had to get away from Red's haunted look.
"Enjoy your vacation...coward," she spat as she rose from the table to leave. In that moment, she was thankful for the time they would be spending a part. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that Red was not her father. He did not owe her a thing and vice versa. There was no connection between them. It was nothing more than a man wanting, needing, something from her in the form of the fulcrum. If what she had in her possession was the fulcrum she would shove it in Red's face and wish him a horrible existence.
She only took a few steps towards the door when his words stopped her so fast she felt the air rush from her lungs. "My only thought that night was of getting you out. I didn't concern myself with how much pain I would endure to see that through. The truth was I didn't care. I followed your screams to the closet and tore the door clean off the hinges. Just the feel of your hand in mine was enough strength I needed to put one foot in front of the other. Even as I burned I moved forward...for you."
"W-what?" Lizzie breathed, her world tilting. "N-no, it was my father who..."
Red stood from his chair, turning his back towards her. Slowly, she watched him unbutton his shirt. What she saw next forced a gasp from her trembling lips. Red's back was covered in burn marks, as if he had been lying in flames. "I am a lot of things, Lizzie. When it comes to you, a coward I am not."
His words struck her like a knife to the chest. All of the hateful, evil things she had said to him over the course of the past few months flew like a hurricane through her mind. How could he have have endured all the punches she threw his way? He had saved her. He had risked his very life to save her own. For a moment, his face flashed into her memory, his back ablazed with flames.
"W-why didn't you tell me?" she whispered. A tear slipped from her eyes and ran the length of her fevered face. "H-how could you have let me be so...horrible to you about that night?" She took a step towards him but stopped. What would she do when she reached him? Hug him? Beg for his forgiveness? Would she fall to her knees and bow her head before him, her savior? Or would she slap him for holding another large secret? It was not her father that had saved her after all, but the man standing before her.
"What would it have done to ease your pain, Lizzie, me telling you it was me and not your father that got you out of the burning house?"
"I owe you more than you have allowed me to give you, Red," Lizzie cried.
At this, Red smiled, yet it was a sad smile that never quite reached his eyes. "Your presence alone is all I have ever required, Lizzie. Nothing more can give me the joy that that one act alone does. I'm sorry to cut our dinner so short, but I have a long trip tomorrow. I do wish you would consider coming. I think you would love Naples."
"Red, please," Lizzie said, trying to get him to stay. She knew she had lost the battle. Red had spilled more than he had ever done before, and she could see what effect it was having on him. He looked like a man haunted by demons too horrible to speak of. For the first time in her memory, Red looked completely and totally lost.
"Dembe, would you please see to it that Lizzie gets home safely," Red called out.
Dembe was there at once, as if he were hiding in the shadows all along. He took Lizzie by the elbows and began to steer her towards the door. She wretched her elbow out of Dembe's grasp and hurried towards Red before she lost the will to do what she wanted to do. He stood as still as stone as she threw her arms around his neck and clung to him as if her life depended on it. Lizzie was not sure if Red was even breathing. But it did not take long before she felt his arms slide around her and him pull her into his warm embrace.
"Thank you," she whispered in his ear, the words as soft as prayers.
She felt him smile against her skin. "No thanks required, Lizzie. It's become one of the single greatest decisions of my life." She felt his lips softly kiss her forehead and then he was gone, retreating upstairs. She watched him go until he was out of her sight.
It was how they left one another. Him retreating to the confines of his darkened room. She left to the realization that Red had been her guardian angel, her protector, this whole time. He had not taken life from her but had given it.
As Dembe drove her home, everything became so clear to her. Although she did not have all the answers, she had enough to realize what was happening inside her. Red had become so much more to her over the past few months. He was her rock, her constant, in a line of castles built in sand. Her feelings for him were growing stronger , and she had the proof she needed to know he was not her father. Now, the revelation that he had admitted tonight made those feelings even stronger. Lizzie was not sure she was ready to say she was in love with him, but the feelings within her were growing to be something in that direction.
She grabbed her phone, wanting to call him just to hear his voice, but quickly placed the phone back in her purse. So much had already been revealed. She did not want to push him any further. It could wait until he came back from Naples. Perhaps then they could sit down and have a long talk.
A/N: Comment, reply. let me know what ya thought!
