A/N: Beta'd by the lovely and talented thefirstfewchapters...thoroughly and completely disclaimed of everything.
Lizzie sat on the striped sofa in the living room with a cup of coffee cooling in her hand, while Red nursed a glass of scotch as he sat in one of the chairs. He had shrugged off the holster earlier, and his vest was unbuttoned, along with the collar of his shirt. In the lamp light, he looked a little younger than she knew him to be, despite the strain evident in his face. She waited for him to speak, content for now to just study him in repose.
"Someone in the Attorney General's office is throwing monkey wrenches in the works, Lizzie. Tom Keen was never supposed to be set free after the harbor master issue. He was supposed to be released back to the task force, but somehow he went into the wind instead. Another Blacklister, who I've been keeping tabs on for a while, and who I've mentioned to Cooper before, has suddenly pulled up stakes and now is nowhere to be found." Red studied Lizzie in the half light, watching her process all this new information. He adored her intelligence, the way she took everything in and sorted it in her head, like a marvelous mental game of Mousetrap.
"Another mole?"
He shook his head. "It doesn't feel like a mole. These events are small and seem inconsequential, but they're not. I'm starting to see a pattern emerging, and it's beginning to tie into the cabal. Someone knows about that group."
"You think maybe they're trying to expose them?"
"No. I think they want to join them."
"Wait… join them? Can that even be done? According to you, Red, this shadowy group consists of extremely powerful people; I can't imagine them hosting a sign-up event at the local community center." Red's lips twisted in a half-smile at her sarcasm and she couldn't stop herself from giving an answering smirk.
"You are essentially correct. But we know that they have lost at least two members, so they may be "in the market" for people to fill those seats. Having someone in the Attorney General's office would be…useful to them. As would having someone in the Justice Department."
"Or even the FBI?"
"Especially the FBI."
Lizzie sipped her coffee without tasting it as she let his words sink into her mind. None of this made sense at all. It seemed like much more was now in play than just the Fulcrum. The more she considered it, the more worrisome it became to her.
"Red, how much are you not telling me?" She focused in on his face as she asked the question. He held her gaze for a few moments before he rose from his chair to refresh his drink. There was something graceful in the way he poured the scotch, standing by the table with one hand in the pocket of his grey trousers. But she could see the tension in the way he held his shoulders, as though, for once, there was too much weight on them for him to carry alone.
Regardless of how she felt about the fissures he had caused in the dam of her life, she could sympathize with Raymond Reddington at this moment. His persona as the Concierge of Crime was so enormous, so all-encompassing, that sometimes even she forgets he isn't actually superhuman. He was just a man.
Who, right now, was still refusing to tell her everything he knew about their situation.
Lizzie sighed and slid off the couch to dump her cold coffee in the sink. She had enough to get started. She would get more out of him tomorrow. She would let the information he had given her so far settle in her brain overnight. Morning was soon enough to inform Red that she would not be cosseted while he tried to take on the whole world alone. She found herself smiling at the tired figure now slumped in the chair; this time, he wasn't alone.
She turned to the pile of luggage in the mudroom and began to rummage through for something that looked like her bag or her clothes. None of the cases seemed to be hers. The need for a hot shower was becoming more real by the minute, as the headache-dulling caffeine began to wear off. Seriously, they haul a girl off without a warning and can't even bring a set of her pajamas?
"Reddington! Did either of you two geniuses think to pack some clothes or maybe, I don't know, a toothbrush?" Her frustration with the day's events was slowly pushing her temper to the edge. She re-stacked the cases and spun around to find Red in the doorway, holding up her overnight bag.
"I believe you will find what you need in here. Dembe packed for you, he's quite thorough." His tone was mild but filled with reproof, and the tightness of his mouth told Lizzie she wasn't the only one holding on to their temper. She grabbed the case and shot a fulminating look over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs to find a room.
Red's gaze stayed on her as she moved out of sight. He stared at the glass of scotch on the table, and considered the merits of pouring a bit more. It was going to be a very long night.