This House is a Home.
I want to thank you all so much for your words of encouragement! I've read the blacklist fanfiction since I watched the pilot almost two years ago and only now thought I would give it a try. I hope this lives up to the first chapter and I hope you stay reading. Again, any feedback is greatly appreciated!
Song inspiration: Heelah Dancing by Keaton Henson and Welcome Home (Reprise) by Radical Face
She stepped towards the building, twirling the set of of keys Dembe had presented her with earlier. Cautiously she entered, climbed the stairs and approached the door at the top, on the left, as instructed. She paused for minute before she inserted the key into the lock, unsure if she was ready yet to be exposed to the 'other side' of Red so soon after what had unfolded mere hours ago.
It was unlike anywhere she had ever known Red to accommodate; understated and comfortable. A home.
She slowly crept down the hall, drinking in the many pictures and tokens that adorned the walls of the hallway and exposed a life well lived - a life well loved. She could smell him; that familiar soothing smell of poignant aftershave mixed with cigar smoke that often followed him wherever he had went.
As she gingerly entered the sitting room, she began to feel tears sting her eyes again. Piles of books lined the walls; all of which looked well worn, baseball and track sports trophies sat on a rather dusty shelf; dated between the years 1975 and 1978 - the thought that she had never viewed him as athletic or interested in sports crossed her mind and caused a dull ache in her chest. If only she had asked him what truly interested him, what his strengths were, his hobbies. She took a seat on the large leather sofa and allowed herself to soak in her surroundings.
He was here.
He was all around her in this tiny nondescript flat. She finally understood why Dembe and Mr Kaplan insisted she make this journey despite the chaos and uncertainty surrounding them all. Something on the fireplace caught her eye, causing her to leave the comfort of the vintage sofa - a picture that seemed to hold so much familiarity. She stared at the frame not fully understanding what this all meant, if anything.
It was her and Sam, sitting by a lake she knew as the place not far from her childhood home. He was showing her how to fish, steadying her hands on the rod; deep concentration shown across her face, and pride clearly radiating from his.
She picked it up to observe it even closer and noticed it concealed another photo behind its frame, this one was much older. Two young men smiling, laughing, each with an arm around one another's shoulders.
Red and Sam.
They both looked so happy, so healthy, so young. Their whole lives ahead of them, the world ready for the taking. She chuckled a little at the sight of Red's hair; blond and bushy was the only way to describe it and so different from what she imagined he would look like at that age.
She put the frame of her and Sam back in its place but kept this one of the two men firmly in her hand as she went to explore the rest of the home - his home.
The kitchen contained more herbs and spices than she even knew existed. Cookbooks in various languages rested atop the refrigerator - she knew he had an adventurous taste when it came to food but she had never pondered until now that he enjoyed not only eating worldly foods, but preparing them himself. She could see it now; see him pottering around the kitchen, adding handfuls of strange ingredients as he hummed a tune to himself. Smiling. Content.
She felt her heart constrict, could feel her emotions rising to the surface yet again. She quickly exited the kitchen and continued down the hallway to the double doors that caught her eye when she first entered his flat. She entered his bedroom gingerly, feeling like she was betraying him by prying in such a private area. This is where the great Raymond Reddington is brought down to the same level as everyone else in the world - where the enigma that is the concierge of crime becomes as vulnerable as the next man. This is where his guard is down and his true self exposed.
If she has surmised anything from this visit, it is that nothing was more essential to Red than a good book. A wall of wooden bookcases adorns the left side of the room; again all well worn. She rakes her eyes over the shelfs, trying to determine his favourite genre, his favourite author, his favourite novel.
She moves to the door on the other side of the room, opening it to reveal a tidy area of well arranged hats, shoes, shirts and suits. She runs her hand through the various materials before grabbing one rather wrinkled looking white shirt. She wanders over to the bed and without a second thought she lays down on her side still clutching onto his shirt and the photo. Bringing the shirt to her face she breathes in his scent and feels the material ghosting over her features.
It still feels unreal, almost unbelievable the chaos that has entered her life today - unlike anything she has faced in the last few years. Finally she allows her repressed feelings to surface; tears streaming down her face, sobs wracking her body. It seems like hours before she regains control of her mind and her body. She feels exhaustion take over as she curls her arms even tighter around the material of his clothing. She dreams of him - of everything she would say, everything she would do to prove how much she truly cared about him. The reason she was sent here is long forgotten as her mind is clogged with memories of him, images of his face and most hauntingly of all, the sound of his laughter.
Several hours later she jumps up as her phone rings out, echoing around the room. She reaches into her pocket, her heart pounding from waking with such a start.
"Keen" she barks.
"Agent Keen, what is taking so long? You need to come back as soon as possible, there's been a development." Dembe's voice cried with urgency.
She stayed silent, oblivious to the fact that she was holding her breathe as she waited for him to elaborate. However, shuffling could be heard on the other end of the line before Mr Kaplan's voice came rushing down her handset, both fear and hope evident in her tone.
"Liz? He made it through surgery. He has a chance...a chance of survival. The team said they need his condition to remain stable in the next 24 hours or his heart won't be able to cope with the strain. Liz, my dear, he needs you now. I know you are angry and confused but trust me, it will all make sense in the end. You need to come back here with the box, and you need watch over Raymond. If I am certain of one thing dearie, it is that he won't survive without you; without you at his side. Please come back as soon as you can."
