Never in her life had Elizabeth Keen been so grateful for hot water and clean clothes. It didn't matter that the shower stall was only slightly bigger than a coffin and that she barely had enough room in the bathroom to dry herself off and put on those clothes, she was grateful.

The shower was hot, and the water pressure was good. Inside the duffel bag Red had given her was a smaller black bag with a number of good smelling things inside, along with the necessities. Liz laughed to herself, even as she wiped the tear stains from her face under the hot spray, to think that Red had called the contents of that bag "basic toiletries." There were travel-sized versions of everything she could need from shampoo to floss, and the fancy disposable razor had at least five blades on it.

She wondered if he had picked out the items himself, or if he'd had someone else go to the store for him. An image of Red, standing in the aisle of travel-sized toiletries of a drugstore or a Walmart somewhere, meticulously assessing the contents of each bin of tiny shampoos and antiperspirants for her use, popped into her head unbidden, and she chuckled.

She had come into the bathroom expecting to break down the second the door closed behind her. She was prepared for the probability that being alone with her thoughts and fresh memories of the recent, horrifying events of her life would leave her curled up on the floor for a few hours. She had already wept openly at least twice in front of Red today, despite willing every muscle in her body not to let it happen…surely now that she was alone, she wouldn't be able to stop herself.

But strangely, the feelings didn't come.

I'm still in shock, she thought to herself. I may feel fine now, but that doesn't mean I'm okay…or that I'll still feel okay later.

She sighed, knowing that she was likely in for a series of post traumatic stress breakdowns in the near future, and of course, stuck down here, they were all going to be in front of Red.

As mortifying as it would be for her, and as unpleasant as it would be for him with her crying all the time, he would understand. She knew he would help her through it. There was no one better to help her through such a thing, she realized, and a wave of relief washed over her. She pressed her forehead against the wall of the shower stall and silently thanked the Universe that she had chosen Red, and that she hadn't been stupid enough to run away with Tom when he had offered.

Keeping her promise not to use all of the hot water, Liz scrubbed herself raw to remove as much of the filth of her transgressions as she could—noting ironically that the thing she really needed to scrub was her soul—and stepped out of the stall.

The clothes in the bag were basic and comfortable. She had a couple of T-shirts, a pair of jeans, some soft sweatpants. The bras were her size and wireless, the panties were basic briefs and unornamented. Everything fit her perfectly, and again, Liz wondered who did Red's shopping. It was both creepy and comforting to have clothing that fit exactly like her own.

She chose the sweatpants and one of the t-shirts and looked at herself in the tiny mirror over the sink. They were black in color and fabric was heavy cotton and spandex. They clung to her backside and thighs in a very appealing way. She wondered what Red would think of them when she walked out of here. She imagined his eyes widening as she sashayed past him, then quickly schooling his expression, hoping she wouldn't notice his stare.

But she would notice. She always noticed when he looked at her like that.

Liz shook her head and came back to reality, suddenly aware that she was stupid, silly girl primping in front of the mirror and thinking about Red checking out her ass. It was completely inappropriate and incongruous with the reality of her situation. Since when did she care about looking appealing to Red? What had occurred in the last 48 hours that suddenly made Red attractive to her?

The answer didn't come easily to her, but she suspected it had something to do with her newfound status as a murderer and a criminal and Red's recent revelation of just how much he had done to protect her from her past. The lines had been blurred, their relationship to one another was no longer clear.

She thought of his expression when she'd told him she remembered the night of the fire. How his eyes had welled up for the briefest second.

I didn't want you to end up like me.

Well, it was too late for that now, wasn't it?

She remembered how he wouldn't meet her eyes as he said those words. Even when she rested her head against his shoulder, he hadn't relaxed. For her, there was a sense of peace in finally knowing the answers, but what was it like for Red?

You're my sin-eater.

I tried to be.

Red was always so protective of her, so furious when she risked herself to protect him. He had worked for years, worked so hard to keep her safe, to protect her from her past…and now she had gone and completely wasted all of his efforts. It was all for naught.

She leaned over the sink, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach. Red must be so disappointed in me, she thought suddenly. I messed everything up. They must all be so disappointed with me. We had a good thing going, and I screwed us all over.

Cooper had begged her not to take that shot. Cooper had known in that moment exactly what the consequences would be if she killed Connelly. He told her to run because that was the only thing she could do now, the only option she had left. There was no fixing this. There would be no more blacklist, no more working in the Post Office, no more budding friendships with Aram and Samar, no more chasing bad guys and shoot outs with Ressler at her side…Ressler, who had begged her not to do this and now had to hunt her down, hunt his own friend down. No more phone calls from Nick's Pizza.

What if Red decided she was too risky and foolish to keep protecting like this?

The sick feeling was overwhelming, and Liz dry-heaved over the toilet a few times, shaking, palms clammy and cold, face sweating and warm. When she was sure she wasn't going to vomit, she dropped the lid of the toilet down and sat on it, trembling violently, suddenly freezing despite the hot shower only seconds before.

Red was literally all she had left at this point. What would she do if he left her too and walked out of her life as quickly as he'd entered it? The dry heaves turned into gasping sobs that she tried to stifle, but it was no use, and within moments she heard a hesitant tap on the door.

"Lizzie?"

She breathed deep and wiped her face, trying to regain a modicum of control. After a minute she opened the door to find Red standing there, concerned and worried for her. It was too much to bear, and the tears returned.

"Lizzie, what—" Red started to ask, but she cut him off.

"I'm so s-s-stupid!" she half blurted, half blubbered. "I'm so sorry!"

Red closed his mouth and took her hand in his. Gently, ever so gently, as one leads a small child, he lead her back to the table and pulled out a chair. She sat and immediately put her face into her hands.

"Sorry for what?" he crooned, handing her more paper towels, then rising to grab a plastic cup and a jug of water from the shelf behind him. He poured water into the cup and held it out to her. "Here, drink this."

She drank and took a shuddery breath.

"I was alright until I got dressed, and then I started thinking about…" she trailed off, realizing she should probably leave out the five minutes she spent imagining Red ogling her butt in these pants. Unbidden, a hysterical snort of laughter escaped her between sobs. Red raised an eyebrow, but she shook her head dismissively. "I started thinking about how badly I've let everyone down, how it can never be the same, and how much I liked my job, and the work we were all doing, and now I've ruined it…I ruined everything. Not just for me, but for them too."

She took another sip of water, staring down at the table, tears still coming but she made no effort to wipe them. She risked looking over at Red, but his expression was inscrutable.

"I feel like I let you down," she admitted. Red immediately opened his mouth to deny it, but she shook her head to stop him. "You've worked my entire life to keep me safe and untainted by the past, and I just threw it all away because a mean man in a suit made some ugly threats and I wanted to shut him up."

"Lizzie…"

"No, Red, at least if I'd let Connelly live, they would know who to watch. He told me just before I pulled the trigger that even if I shot him, someone else would just take his place, and then we wouldn't know who that person would be. You already had Cooper conspiring against him in secret; we could have waited, made a plan, and kept the element of surprise! Why didn't I think about that? How could I have been so stupid? And reckless?"

"Lizzie, you couldn't have…" Red tried again.

"I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to go," she muttered to the floor, ignoring the sudden shocked silence from the other side of the table. "You've put so much work into me, so much wasted time and effort protecting me and keeping me on the right path, away from danger, and I still turned out so completely screwed up. For all you know, once we get out of here I'll do something else irrevocably foolish, and get you killed too. I might be a lost cause, Red…I wouldn't blame you for coming to the same conclusion."

"Elizabeth. Look at me," Red commanded. Liz took a deep breath and did ask he asked. His expression was kind, but Liz could see frustration pulling at the corners of his mouth. "You are not a lost cause. You are a very noble cause. When it comes to you, I regret nothing, and I do not begrudge you anything. You know this."

"But I don't deserve…" she started to speak, but he shushed her and shook his head. He reached for her hand and clasped it tightly.

"I am not going anywhere without you. We're a team, remember? You and I are going to spend some time relaxing and planning down here, and then we'll be off to take on the Cabal. The question you should really be asking yourself is whether or not you want to take this journey with me…I know you have other options."

He was referring to Tom, she knew. Liz winced and pulled away from him, but as usual, he continued talking.

"We will be full time criminals, Lizzie. Everyone will know your face and who you are. It won't be fun and games like before, with the F.B.I. ready to extract us if needed. We will likely be subject to some unpleasant situations, and forced to act in ways that may weigh far more heavily on your conscience than shooting people like Connolly. And while you may believe you've disappointed me by 'wasting' my efforts to protect you, you should consider the possibility that I may not be a very competent protector."

"What?" Liz's head jerked up. "That's not true!"

"All evidence to the contrary," Red gestured to their surroundings.

"Red! How many times have you saved my life?"

"About the same number of times I have allowed it to be endangered. I've brought a lot of trouble into your life Elizabeth…don't think that I'm not aware of that."

Liz was speechless now. Red took advantage of the break in their disagreement to drain the last mouthful from his wineglass and frown at the empty bottle.

"Do you think the pub up there is open yet?" he queried suddenly, completely off subject. "If we're going to continue this conversation, I need to procure something a little stronger…and grabbing a bottle from behind the bar may prove difficult with an audience."

"Especially in that uniform," she quipped with a watery smile. Red looked down, remembering he was still dressed like a cop.

"Well then," he said, standing up and procuring his own black duffel bag. "Hold that thought, Lizzie. I'll return shortly." He walked to the bathroom with his bag and closed the door behind him.

Liz took a moment to admire how deftly he had extricated himself from their somewhat unpleasant conversation and listened for the sound of footsteps overhead. Hearing nothing, she looked to see if there was any wine left…if Red was going up, perhaps he could grab more.

There was wine left. Many bottles, in fact, including some chardonnay, which Liz knew Red hated, but she secretly loved. She picked a bottle and opened it.

The bathroom door opened and out came Red…in a pair of jeans and a black, button-down shirt. Liz nearly over-poured her glass of chardonnay at the sight, and set the bottle down a little too hard.

"What?" he asked, taking in her shocked expression.

"I guess, um," she stammered. "I've never seen you dressed so casually, before. It's…different."

He looked good. Too good. He was approachable and comfortable, and attractive. She even caught herself starring at his backside as he knelt to slide his bag under his bed, and shook her head at the irony of it.

"You look nice," she added casually as he came to stand beside her, and had to immediately look down so that he didn't see her blush.

"Thank you," he replied, looking somewhat perplexed. He studied her face for a moment too long while she attempted to look nonchalant, and sipped her wine casually. Red's gaze followed the glass in her hand to the bottle on the table. "Oh god, Lizzie, what did you do?" he gestured to the chardonnay.

"It's not for you, it's for me," she rolled her eyes. "And I don't hear anyone overhead, so I'd say you have really good odds of snagging that bottle of scotch, if you still want it."

"Oh yes. Especially now that I see what my options are," he scoffed and moved towards the stairs.

"Red…" she called after him. He paused to look back at her. "Be careful up there, okay?"

He nodded an gave her a small smile.

He was up, out, and had the faux sink back in place in under a minute. Liz waited with baited breath, listening for any sound of sign of trouble. Had Red taken his gun with him? She thought so, but wasn't sure. She heard footsteps moving across the floor, and then again. The door to the closet above opened and shut, and then Red's voice muttered, "It's me, Lizzie," before the sink was lifted. "Let me hand you these."

She moved to the bottom of the stair-ladder and reached up for the two bottles of scotch and two tumblers Red handed her and set them down on the ground. She reached up again only to have Red pass her a plate loaded with a giant bacon cheeseburger and a pile of steak fries.

"What's this?" she asked softly, conscious of the fact that they were still exposed, but too excited to wait.

"Dinner," Red replied, handing her another plate of the same and a bottle of ketchup. He climbed in and carefully closed the heavy panel above them, turning the latch securely in place. "Eli thought we might want something other than canned soup, but we should really attempt to stay down here and not go back up for as long as possible—the hunt is still on. There are officers patrolling everywhere."

Liz nodded and set the two plates on the table and put the bottle of ketchup in the middle. She folded two paper towels in half and laid them next to the plates like napkins.

"Do we need silverware?" she asked dubiously.

"Not for me," Red replied, pouring himself a scotch right away. He held up the other empty glass in front of her invitingly.

"No, thank you," she said, pulling her wine glass and bottle of chardonnay closer. Red gave her choice of beverage a distinct look of disapproval, then shrugged and sat down to dig into his burger. She did the same, not realizing how hungry (and tipsy) she had been until now.

"This might be the best burger I've ever had," she mumbled between mouthfuls.

"Eli certainly knows his trade," Red replied.

"Do think he'll make them for us again?"

"I'm sure he will."

Liz chewed thoughtfully. She wondered if she should say something to Red to finish out their conversation from earlier.

She looked up at him…just in time to see a great glob of ketchup ooze out of the bottom of his burger and land on his shirt.

"Dammit," Red hissed under his breath, dabbing furiously with his paper towel. "That's going to leave a stain."

"It's a black shirt, Red. No one will notice."

"It's the principle of the thing, Lizzie!" He dipped the paper towel in his water glass and continued to dab determinedly at the spot on his shirt. He was so determined, so focused, Liz couldn't stop herself from laughing at him softly.

"Out out, damned spot!" she muttered under her breath, mimicking his tones, viciously mocking what she presumed to be his own internal monologue. His eyes flicked up and met hers in half amusement, half annoyance. "Will all great Neptune's ocean not wash this ketchup from my shirt?!" She did her best impression of him, furrowing her brow as she focused intensely on his shirt, tilting her head to the side. Red snorted in recognition and surprise, and she half-collapsed in her chair, shaking in silent laughter.

Wow, she had had a lot of wine.

Red, to her delight, was laughing just as hard as she was. She grinned back at him openly. Had she ever teased him before? She couldn't remember, but it certainly was fun.

"I've changed my mind Lizzie…you may have as much chardonnay as you please," he winked at her cheekily. She smiled.

They simultaneously became aware of the sound of footsteps overhead. Lizzie startled and looked up fearfully, wondering how long people had been upstairs while she was down here laughing…loudly.

"The pub is open now, it's just the customers," Red explained. "We're all right."

She breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed again. Red went back to eating while she studied him, the alcohol making her brave enough to do it openly. He finished his food neatly, not wanting to have a repeat experience with the ketchup, wiped his mouth and noticed her gazing at him.

"Tell me your thoughts, sweetheart," he invited, pouring himself another drink.

"I was just thinking about how surreal this all is…We've never done this before."

"Done what before?"

"Just…been in the same room together, shared a meal together as friends, gotten drunk together," she raised her glass and he did the same, they clinked and each took a swig of their chosen poisons. "I mean, you're wearing jeans…" she continued.

"What is your obsession with these jeans?" he chuckled.

"They make you look normal, like a regular guy," she sighed. "It's just weird seeing you that way…much less seeing you that way in a safe room underground while we hide from the F.B.I."

"So you like me dressed this way?" Liz was not too inebriated to hear the smugness in his tone.

"Yes," she responded, looking him right in the eye. Deal with that, Red. He raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing, looking pleased.

"Red…" she started say, suddenly serious, remembering their conversation from before. "I need you to know some things…I have things I need to say to you." If only her fuzzy brain would let her get them out.

He sighed and looked down at his drink, clearly bracing himself for the worst. "Go ahead, Lizzie. I'm listening."

"You said that you don't think you've protected me well enough…but that's not true, because you have. What else could you have done, Red? Except maybe let me in on the whole story a little bit sooner…" she frowned. "I might have done some things…differently. But it doesn't matter now, because I made my choice."

"Your choice?"

"I was…I was with Tom last night, Red," Her face colored with shame, knowing Red would not be pleased to hear this part. "He was helping me hunt down Karakurt, and he'd been trying to make things right between us, and it's been hard to let go of him, even after everything." Red's hand clenched tightly around his glass of scotch, but he continued to listen. "He asked me go with him, to run away together on his boat, but I couldn't do it. I had to come back in, to show the team what we'd found, and when I really did need to run, to get away, I didn't call Tom, I called you."

Red's eyes gleamed.

"So that's it, I guess," she looked down at her glass and back up at the man watching her intently on the other side of the table. "I considered my options, and I chose you. I'm in, Red. I trust you. Let's do this. Let's get back out there and do what we need to do to take down the Cabal. I'm ready…or at least, I will be when we leave here."

Red said nothing. He looked dumbfounded, which made Liz hesitate.

"I mean," she backpedaled. "That is…if you'll have me…"

"Lizzie, of course," Red breathed, looking at her with something almost akin to wonder. "Alright then," he cleared his throat. "We're agreed."

He reached for her hand and gave it a little ceremonial shake. She squeezed warmly in return.

"Have I mentioned how grateful I am to have you in the middle of all of this?"

"I believe you have, yes," Red sighed. He squeezed her hand in return, then stood to gather their plates. "I'm going to put these away, and then what do you say to a rematch?" He nodded towards the cards.

"One of many, I'm guessing. It's going to be a long week, Red."

"A long week of me kicking your ass at cards," Red teased as he stacked the dirty dishes in an empty tub on one shelf.

They played and drank together late into the night. Liz even managed to win a few rounds against Red, despite her increasing stupor.

"Would you like to go to sleep?" Red asked her at one point as she practically nodded off in front of him. "Let's call it a night."

"No," she woke herself up and picked up her cards again. "I'm afraid of I what I'll see when I close my eyes."

Red knew that feeling too well and decided not to push, but eventually nature won out. Liz put her head down on the table and fell asleep in the middle of their third game of Crazy Eights.

Not wanting to startle her, Red stood and touched her arm lightly.

"Mmphf," Liz replied.

"Come on, Lizzie. Let me help you," he rumbled, helping her to her feet and maneuvering her over to her bed. He pulled back the covers and sat her down on top of the mattress. She hadn't put on shoes after her shower, just socks. He tucked her feet in.

"Sorry Red," she mumbled. "Too much wine."

"You're allowed. It's been quite a day, and we had fun." He pulled the covers up over her.

"Yes," she grinned sleepily, breaking his heart in more ways than one. "Thank you," she clenched his hand for a moment before going slack. She was asleep again.

"You're welcome," Red replied, though he knew she couldn't hear. He allowed himself a small moment to take in and appreciate the sight of her sleeping, relaxed and peaceful, before removing himself to his side of the room.

Red never slept more than a few hours a night, no matter what he tried. He turned the lights off, except for the one in the bathroom, poured another scotch and lay down on his bed, watchful and wary. He could hear a few patrons overhead holding out for last call. He sipped and rested, and marveled at the way everything could change in such a short amount of time.

When Liz discovered that he was responsible for Tom, and all that came along with that revelation, he'd thought for certain it was over. And he understood. He was prepared for her to never forgive him, he accepted it. She was so angry with him…

…and yet, she had chosen him.

Red took another sip of his scotch and smiled up at the ceiling in the dark, reveling in the knowledge and the warmth it brought to his poor, tired heart.

She had chosen him.

...

*Who cares about Liz's hair? More Red in jeans!