AN: Hello again, Blacklisters! I was surprised that some people suggested that I consider making this a series of one-shots, one for each episode. While I can't guarantee I will do it for every episode (who knows what scenes we'll have!), I'll write when it hits me. SPOILER ALERT: The Kingmaker, LAST SCENE
I own nothing except for my angst and a great deal of scarves.
OooooooooooooooooooooO
Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur
"Even a god finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time"
Red considered the tumbler in his grasp, trying to anchor himself in the sea of emotion breaking over him. An unfinished game of solitaire spread across the table, a futile attempt to engage a mind engulfed in misery.
Another wave of pain crested and hit him. He had hurt her, irrevocably. Red had begun to cause Lizzie pain within 24 hours of meeting her, and had wronged her beyond forgiveness within weeks.
To let her operate for so long without knowing precisely what his relationship to Sam was…well, obfuscation had initially seemed necessary for both her safety and the protection of his interests. He had ignored the inevitable consequences of losing her, and every time the prospect surfaced in his mind, he buried it under sarcasm, superiority and hubris. Some small part of him thought that he could ensure he would win the game, in the end. Perhaps while even winning Lizzie.
Instead, Red was afraid. Anxious that his carefully built house of cards consisting of half-truths, favors, promises, life-debts and manipulation was swaying, preparing to fall.
He held up the tumbler again, the whiskey glowing in the late twilight. In other situations, he could lie or charm his way back into someone's good graces, especially a woman. But Lizzie, his Lizzie, was gone, and rightfully so. One does not take away someone loves the most and expect forgiveness. Even though his situation differed, he understood that truth well enough on his own. Even if he had tried to dismiss it.
There was so much she had to understand, and yet, couldn't know. No matter how deeply his heart yearned for her, his first directive remained; to protect her.
He had been foolish to think, insane even, that his feelings were important. After everything he loved in life had been taken away from him, the idea that something, some small joy would returned to him was ludicrous.
Red closed his eyes, and inhaled, trying to catch a last breath of her perfume, but only smelled his own sweat, old cigars and whiskey. The air was stale with disappointment and heartbreak.
With another absentminded sip, he tried to move on to what he did best; planning and taking care of every detail. He doubted that he would make it out of this game alive, but he refused to take Lizzie down with him. As he had told her before, she deserved so much more then that.
His mind lingered on the memory of her hand in his, her radiant beauty and shy smile as they danced at the Syrian embassy, the relief in her voice when he returned from dealing with the mole.
His breath caught again as his arms ached, recalling the warmth of her body against his, his nose buried in her hair. She was redolent with the smell of sunshine, of soap, of a freshly floral perfume. He keenly felt the absence of her, not only from the room but now from his life.
He cleared the table of all the cards in front of him, and retrieved a legal pad from a side table. Red began drafting notes, a checklist and drawing various plans.
He never saw the king of spades hit the floor, nor the queen of hearts fall gently along side it, obscuring half of the card from view.
AN 2: SORRY SORRY SORRY! I just had to work out my feels from this episode. I needed catharsis and you all are my therapy group. Love you all. Please review if so inclined, I'd like to know if I should continue this series!