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Chapter Three
Keen was not happy about this delay, Red mused. She had insisted on bringing her own bodyguards. Cooper had been reluctant, and they had argued about it for hours. In the end, Keen had supplied a list of candidates from which the authorities had been instructed to choose the least offensive ones. Fowler had been going over it for three days now and her verdict was nowhere in sight.
Red understood Keen's exasperation perfectly. Fowler obviously had the rare ability to irritate every person who came into any form of contact with her, and Elizabeth Keen was no exception. Yet Mrs. Keen was not the type of person to simply accept Fowler's bureaucratic bullying and whatever Liz had planned had been held up until her bodyguards arrived.
In the meantime, Red had had to suffer through FBI crash course with Agent Ressler. The boy had meant well – but Red had started to wish that he'd slip on a banana peel and break his neck after only two hours in Ressler's company.
Ressler had been on Keen's case for the last three years and was understandably upset that he had become suddenly her subordinate, and that a 'navy guy' was supposed to work with the holy FBI without any actual field training. Ressler went by the book – insanely by the book – and this change of situation had evidently shattered his whole black-and-white world.
Red had received the same training that Harold had– in tactics, strategy, command and control, and yes, even actual combat situations of all possible kinds; he could lead a whole damned fleet as easily as he could handle a street brawl. However he had chosen not to mention it in front of Ressler. The boy would surely have a heart attack.
His phone rang and Red decided to ignore it. He was tired, off duty, a little drunk and it was 10 p.m. He didn't care who it was and what they wanted. He was not answering.
It kept ringing for a full minute and then it finally stopped.
Red heaved a satisfied sigh and let his head drop back, closing his eyes. It could have been Liz; he would like to think so. Red smiled and took a sip of his scotch. He had spent shamefully long periods of time thinking about that woman in the last three days; usually in the moments when he had been left alone with his wandering thoughts.
During his lunch breaks he called her Liz and thought about what she could like and dislike – food, colors, movies, he was driving, he called her Elizabeth and wondered what she knew about his family and how to make her talk. During nights she was Lizzie and Red had a lot of fun guessing her likes and dislikes in bed. In his bed she was his Lizzie.
He almost fell asleep when there was a loud pounding on his front door. Not amused, he rose, stumbled through the darkness in his house and opened it.
On the other side was standing Keen. This evening she was wearing a blue coat and even in the faint light from the street lamps he could tell it emphasized her eyes beautifully.
"Mrs. Keen. I don't mean to sound rude, but what do you want?" Red was in no condition to deal with her tonight, not after the afternoon date he had had with Ressler and the old case files the boy had brought with him. Not after he had spent the last half an hour thinking about her as Lizzie.
"You didn't answer your phone." She shrugged and breezed into his house, passing him without a second glance. She did sniff the air around him, though. "Have you been drinking again, Raymi?"
"Uh." Red rubbed his head tiredly and followed her, blinking in the sudden light. She must have turned it on, though he hadn't noticed her reaching for the switch. "Is there an emergency, Mrs. Keen?"
"There is." She sat down on his couch and examined his glass on the table. Then she cheekily took a sip, smiling. "And I thought I told you. My name is Liz."
"I know." Of course Red knew – he just didn't trust himself enough to call her by her given name. That would not end well; he could so easily slip and call her Lizzie… And how would he be able to separate his fantasies from reality then?
Their interaction had been thankfully minimal in the last few days; Keen had had her own business to keep her occupied. Whenever she had spoken to him, however, his ears had turned red and his mind spiraled right in the gutter. Red knew that she would be appalled should she ever find out about his new favorite pastime.
He was appalled himself; he was old enough to be her father and they knew each other how long? Three damned days. He just couldn't help it, couldn't stop it – and he didn't want to; these thoughts about Keen were lighter and safer than most of Red's thoughts had been in the last few years.
"That's a fine scotch you have here, Raymi." She smiled a softer smile, tracing lightly with her finger the place where his lips had touched the glass. Red watched he movement and she knew it. "How drunk are you? We have a work to do."
"Tonight?" Red partly blamed her, though – all her teasing and innuendos were not helping him to stay focused. She obviously enjoyed seeing him uncomfortable and embarrassed.
"No, on Wednesday. Of course tonight, Red! Pay attention. Perhaps a shower would be in order? I could sponge your back…"
"No, thank you." Red cleared his throat and focused very hard on a simple task – not to imagine Mrs. Keen in the shower, let alone in his shower and company. "What kind of work? I thought you won't lift a finger until your bodyguards arrive."
"They are on their way." She abruptly stood up and started walking towards the stairs, switching the lights on in the entire house. Red followed her bemusedly after a second.
She knew his house well – where the lamps were, which stair creaked – and he simply didn't want to know how it was possible. Yet he asked, "Have you ever been in here?"
"Hmm-hm." Keen marched into his bedroom. Somehow, her impudence and confidence were expectable and Red would have been more shocked if she behaved reservedly.
"You know, this is beginning to look like an obsession, Mrs. Keen. It's rather intrusive." He was still trailing behind her, curious about what she would do in his 't that an exhilarating thought?
"Let's just say that you are my hobby, Raymi. My favorite hobby." She slipped into his bathroom and he followed excitedly. Perhaps it was him who was obsessed? With all the things Keen could do to him, or he to her…
"Why?"
"Why are we in your bathroom? So you can have a shower, of course." Keen winked at him and smiled. He knew that she was not being serious, unfortunately.
"Why am I your favorite hobby?" Red shook his head, exasperated.
"Ah, I don't know. You are fun to talk to, even when you are a little drunk. Now, go on, take a shower. I'll get your clothes for the evening."
Red blinked at her and she grinned.
"Or would you like me to get rid of your clothes instead? My offer about your back still stands, honey."
She was eyeing him in an unsettling way – like a predator eyed his prey. Red had never been subjected to that kind of look, never. His ears turned red and he swallowed loudly. Her eyes were so damned blue and she looked quite serious – as if she liked the idea. For a moment, just the tiniest split second, he considered saying yes.
Then his natural shyness kicked in. He didn't have the guts to speak and behave like her, like it didn't mean anything. Maybe it didn't for her, but Red was not that kind of man and never had been. A purely sexual attraction was something that he was wary of because he considered sex as something very intimate – not necessarily act of love, but something that forced him to give up control, to trust the other person at least fractionally and that was very dangerous without actual emotions involved.
The question was – was he attracted to Keen on a purely sexual level? The intensity of their connection – because it was some sort of connection – was frightening, but where was his usual wariness?
"Ah, your loss." She shrugged her shoulders. "Shower, Red. Now."
With that, she slipped out of the bathroom and closed the door quietly, leaving Red wondering if it might have been disappointment what he had glimpsed in her eyes.
Surely not.
He followed Keen's order – it was a good point, he needed to be sober if he wanted to be of any use. After that he found the clothes she wanted him to wear tonight. Red shook his head while he was putting it on, and then grinned at his reflection in the mirror; it was a uniform of a captain. It had been years since he had worn one himself.
Wandering downstairs, he found Mrs. Keen occupying his couch and sipping his drink. She had discarded her coat and Red enjoyed the view her closely fitting navy blue dress offered him.
"Looking good, Captain." She grinned and observed him with sparkling eyes.
"Really, a captain? What have I done to earn this demotion, Mrs. Keen?" Red smiled back softly and awkwardly moved into the room. She was still watching him and it was unnerving.
"I felt like dating a sea captain tonight."
He chuckled, suppressing the pang of something inside of his chest at the word 'date'. "What's wrong with an admiral?"
"Ah, you know these top-ranking naval officers; too straight to the point, too much conforming to the rules…" Keen motioned towards him. "But a captain! Now that's fun."
"If you believe so." Red tilted his head to the side and rubbed his neck. "What is the plan, Mrs. Keen?"
"We are going out." She stood up and reached for her coat. Red swiftly crossed over to her, took it from her hands and helped her put it on. "Thank you, honey."
He smiled in response and wasn't even surprised when she linked their arms. They slowly made their way outside, Red switching off the lights in the house with his free hand.
"You are rather sweet tonight, Raymi, a real gentleman." Keen commented then and pulled him down the street. "I appreciate it. I don't get to meet men like that in my line of work."
They stopped in front of a shiny black Mercedes and she offered him the car key. Red blinked at her hand and took it. Then he opened the passenger door for her and she slipped in with a pleased expression.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Mrs. Keen." He said after he had gotten into the car and fastened his seatbelt. What about her husband? Surely he was a well-mannered man. Red frowned at the thought – she deserved to be treated properly. "Where to?"
She gave him the directions and relaxed in her seat. For a man who disliked being controlled he enjoyed too much the way she smiled at him when he did as she asked. Red scoffed lightly at the thought and pulled away slowly. When he was acquainted with the on-road performance of her expensive car, he securely sped up, glancing at Keen from time to time. She had her eyes closed, breathing deeply. For a second Red believed that she had fallen asleep.
"Where are you staying tonight? I could drive you home, Mrs. Keen." He said softly. He knew how often she switched her safe houses, she had informed Harry the first day that no one in the FBI would know her exact location except for Red and even Red would know only in the case she would decide to tell him.
"Oh, no, no. You're not getting rid of me tonight." She smiled, her eyes still closed. "Keep on driving."
"Hmm. What is the objective of this night, then?"
"We are going to practice for our future… performances."
Red cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders, raising an eyebrow. "So there is actually no emergency and no reason why you invaded my home and forced me into a captain uniform?"
"There was an emergency. I was bored…"
He suppressed the urge to slam on the brakes.
"… and we do need to train, Raymi. You will accompany me to a number of formal and an awful lot of informal gatherings. Not Harold, not Ressler or any other clumsy ."
"Alright." Red shuddered when he imagined Agent Ressler conspicuously hiding behind some inconspicuous bush. "What's the cover story, then?"
"You will be my lover."
"What?" He sputtered. Keen laughed and the pleasant sound kept ringing in Red's ears. Then she added cheerfully,"Well, you can always be my father."
Red did slam on the brakes now and turned to her. Her eyebrows rose and she blinked at him, surprised at his painful expression. There was only one person in the world who could claim that Red was her father.
He clenched his jaw and then the car started to move slowly again. The sudden silence inside was so uncomfortable than even Mrs. Keen started to look slightly subdued. He was gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles cracked and she noticed. Of course she noticed.
"Lover it is, then." She said dully and patted his shoulder in what Red understood was her way of apologizing, and he felt instantly ashamed. She shouldn't have felt the need to apologize; it had been only an innocent, absolutely harmless joke. He had overreacted.
Her hand stayed on his arm, sliding down to his upper arm and then his forearm as if she was trying to calm him down."For me, it's not unusual to bring my lovers along, anyway. Explaining where I had a father hidden all these years, well, that could have been a problem."
He nodded and his hands relaxed slightly. The idea of Lizzie, a married woman, bringing lovers to her meetings was making him both excited and anxious. Excited because that meant that her marriage was obviously not working, and anxious for reasons Red didn't wish to analyze.
When her hand retracted, he felt the loss of her warmth keenly and suppressed a sigh. His mind turned to the matter at hand then – his role as her lover.
"How… how am I to act towards you, Mrs. Keen?" Red's voice was a little rough.
"Like a lover would, Raymi. Touches and glances at least, you are a gentleman, so nothing more… convincing will be necessary." Keen shook her head with a smile and started to fluff her hair. "And for God's sake, call me by my given name."
Red nodded and swallowed. They arrived at their destination – a newly opened club – and he unhappily took a deep breath as he cut the engine. How would he treat Keen should she be his lover? He had no problems picturing it, doing it. How he would keep his sanity intact in the process Red didn't know.
He rounded the car and helped her out, his hand staying at the small of her back. Keen stepped closer to him and winded her arm around him, smiling cheekily.
"See? Not that bad."
"Not that bad." Red agreed and reluctantly pulled her closer. She fit surprisingly well against his body and he was certain that this was how dying felt like. It was the sweetest agony he could imagine. It was heaven. It was hell. His heart surely stopped and then thudded in his chest painfully. He struggled to breath regularly, tried not to let her know how affected he was.
Her perfume was spicy tonight, heady and seductive. He shouldn't have breathed in so deeply.
Keen shifted and stepped slightly away to give him some space, her knowing eyes serious. Her voice was calming and soothing and so very gentle when she spoke, "Let's go, honey. Just for a little while, and we'll see if you can get comfortable, ok?"
She was coaxing him like she would coax a small child, her voice so warm and soothing. Keen would make a great mother someday. Red closed his eyes for a second and when he looked down at her, he nodded all the while wondering how much did she actually know about him and what she saw when she looked at him.
She didn't see Admiral Reddington. She didn't even see Red. Whom she did see, then?
"Raymi?" Keen tugged at his arm to get his attention. "Come on, I'd like to have a drink."
"Whatever you wish, sweetheart." Red answered hoarsely. There was a slight hesitation in Keen's steps and then she gave him and approving smile that quickened Red's pulse once more.
Suddenly Red knew he was doomed to suffer; not only tonight but tomorrow as well – and the day after tomorrow and the day after that… Possibly for the whole duration of their acquaintance. With every smile and every touch of Elizabeth Keen he would die a thousand deaths and he would be resurrected a thousand times.
Was this madness?
Edited by wonderful artemisfae. Thank you!