Welcome back to Maine, I do hope you continue to enjoy the story. Disclaimed in the usual way, and any other characters are my own.
Four minutes later found Red standing at the foot of his bed, unrolling a first aid kit and surveying the contents with a resigned air. He had done a bit more contorting and twisting, hoping briefly to forestall Elizabeth's assistance by fixing up the injury himself, but eventually was forced to admit that he wouldn't be able to reach it. In fact, the only thing he had achieved was tweaking his neck.
Using his good hand to select a gauze pad and press it firmly to the still seeping razor cut, Raymond Reddington let out a grumbly sigh. Lizzie is right—you need stitches. As much as he didn't relish the idea of her help, and much less the inevitability of having to explain his scarred back, he realized that in their current situation a constantly re-opening wound was more trouble than it was worth. Just the possibility of leaving DNA everywhere was enough reason to put an end to such a foolish notion.
A firm tap at the door roused him from his contemplation, and Red sighed again before moving to open it. Liz stood in the hall, dressed now in a pair of jeans and a soft gray t-shirt, regarding him with slight surprise.
"You know, I wasn't sure you'd let me in," she said coolly, moving past him as he stood aside to let her into the room. The warm scent of her shampoo filled his nose as she did so, her hair still slightly damp.
"I thought you might be Gladys with a scone," he replied flatly. "Silly me."
This earned him a quirk of her lips, and Red allowed himself a smirk in response as their eyes met.
"Well. I'm glad you opened the door." Liz recovered her serious tone, taking inventory of the medical supplies on the bed. It wasn't an insubstantial kit, and she was pleased to see that it included a few sterile suture sets. "Alright, let's just get this over with. Can we move that chair over to the window? It'll have the best light."
Red just watched her silently for a moment as she headed towards the wooden chair at the old desk and repositioned it across the room without waiting for his say-so. 'Business Lizzie' was all business, her stoic manner belying the FBI influence he still hadn't managed to completely shake out of her—although certainly not for lack of trying.
"Um, hello?"
He jumped at the loud question, and moved automatically towards her with a huff. "Yes, hello. You don't need to yell to get my attention."
"A) that wasn't yelling, and B) apparently I do. C'mere and let's get this done so you can go eat your precious scone and I can go for a run," she flapped an impatient hand at him to come sit, pulling the first aid kit towards the edge of the bed nearest her.
Red made a face, rolling his eyes even as he walked to her side and reluctantly sat down in the proffered seat. "Frankly I think you'd benefit far more from having breakfast with me than you would from an endless jaunt around a frozen lake," he murmured, earning himself a skeptical glance. "Far be it from me to tell you what to do, sweetheart, but you are looking a bit... drawn lately."
"Oh, far be it from you to tell me what to do?" Liz let out a derisive hoot of laughter. "That's rich, Red. Maybe the reason I'm looking a bit 'drawn' is because I haven't been allowed to spend any time in the open for the past months—"
"Elizabeth, I absolutely will not apologize for keeping you safe." Even from a seated position, the firm authority in his voice filled the room and stopped Liz short. She dropped her gaze immediately, biting her lip.
Red sighed and chewed at the inside of his cheek before continuing in a softer tone. "I'm sorry for a great many things, as you well know—not the least of which are disrupting your entire life and causing each and every deplorable mess up to this particular point—but given my inability to turn back time, the best I can do is to protect you going forward." He let out a harsh chuckle, absent-mindedly pulling blood-stained fingertips from the gauze at his collar to scrub across his eyes. "If it helps, it does sadden me to know you think so poorly of my efforts thus far."
"Red, no, that's not what I..." Liz began, but closed her mouth again and instead reached for his hand. "Stop that, you're getting blood all over your face," she admonished gently, swiping the pad of her thumb across his cheek to erase a scarlet smudge. Red's face was smooth and warm under her touch, and Elizabeth Keen found herself swallowing hard before catching his fingers in her own and guiding them gently back to put pressure on his cut.
"You're doing a great job at protecting me," she said at last. "Know how I know?"
The man sitting across from her merely raised a dubious eyebrow at her.
"I'm still here— I, we— we both are." Clear blue eyes met green ones and held fast. "We're still alive, we're still together, and that's because of you. I may feel a little bit, uh, cooped up at times, but that's no excuse for me to imply that I'm anything but grateful," Liz blew a breath out from between her teeth, worrying her bottom lip. Jesus, why is it so hard to thank him when he so obviously needs and deserves it?
"Listen. Who knows about tomorrow, or next week, or Hell, even the next five minutes, but for now... I'm okay. We're okay," she finished somewhat lamely, searching his gaze for a sign that he believed her.
The charged silence seemed to stretch out before finally, Red flashed her the briefest of his trademark half-smiles. "You know, 'okay' seems a bit strong for my current situation," he indicated his shoulder. "Although now that I think about it, is the reason you have me sitting in this horrendously uncomfortable chair to do something about that? Or are we just here for a heart-to-heart?"
In spite of herself, the young woman standing in front of him let out a chuff of laughter and shook her head. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"
Red raised his chin impishly. "So I've been told."
The quiet returned after that, but it was more comfortable as Liz selected a few items from the kit and arranged them close at hand.
"Alright, do you think you can get that over your head? Or do you want me to cut it off?"
"Excuse me, what?" Red had been looking out the window at the bleak winter scene behind the inn, but his attention returned to her at this apparent non-sequitur.
She extracted a pair of rubber gloves and pulled them on with a snap, shooting him a bemused look. "Your shirt, genius. I'm not going to be able to do anything with it in the way."
"Oh. Ah," he stalled, tongue tucked behind his teeth. Well this is going to be uncomfortable. He had just managed to lighten the mood after their previous accidental foray into feelings, and now she was going to see his burn scars. She'd know what they meant. "Am I going to be the only one disrobing, then? That seems a bit unfair, don't you think?"
It was a pathetic attempt at a diversion and he didn't really expect her to do anything other than scoff, which was likely why her next move caught him completely off-guard.
"Y'know what, Reddington? Fine." In one smooth motion Elizabeth Keen reached for the hem of her t-shirt and drew it upwards and off over her head, tossing it onto the bed. She stood before him in jeans, a black bra and, most absurdly of all, white latex gloves. "You've seen mine, now show me yours."
Stunned as he was, he didn't even reach to stop her as she picked up a pair of bandage scissors and began cutting his undershirt at the neck.
AN: And there's chapter two! I must admit that the reason this second installment is up so quickly is because I largely had it written already. Hopefully the quickness will help in the face of it being a bit shorter than I'd like—I couldn't find a more sensical place to break it up.
To those who have reviewed: I so appreciate the support thus far and will continue to be motivated by feedback.