Raymond Reddington waited until the front door shut and Elizabeth was safe inside her house before ordering Dembe to continue on. Taking care of her was his duty, his need, the reason to continue pursuing his quest; even with Tom out of the picture, she was still one of his vulnerabilities, maybe the biggest of them at this point.

But the whole blacklist thing went out of control, he was aware of it; at least where it concerned Liz.

Initially it was a perfect idea. She knew too little about her past - he was sure of that, as Sam had always kept him posted. She had tried to discover something about her past when she was a teenager, but then came the adulthood problems, the Academy, and Tom; so she decided to concern herself with her future, and not dwell on her past. Red was going to eliminate all those in his way with her help - it was convenient that she was in the FBI, and he would show her who she really is. Sam wanted that too; his illness caused him to re-evaluate some choices he made regarding her, so he supported Red when he decided to lead Liz to the truth.

However, it didn't take long for her charm and intelligence to take him in. At a distance, she was a strong woman; close up, she was much more – as he said to Sam, she was volatile, unpredictable, soft and hard at the same time. He was curious about her, but that curiosity had only grown as he got to know her better.

Red had noticed that he was losing control of his feelings for her when she finally began to accept that there really was something wrong about Tom. Two times, occuring only days apart, when she was in pain and decided to look for Red. She actually said in both occasions she didn't know why she went after him. In the first one, she arrived with tears in her eyes; in the second one, the tears rolled during the middle of their talk, and he couldn't help but hold her hand to assure her she could trust him. That touch was unexpected even for him, but it felt natural and right. After that his feelings only grew stronger. The assault to the Post Office made it very clear to him how important she had become to him.

Red always considered himself very good at restraint and he was proud of it, but the last year had tested him. Liz still had feelings for Tom; they were still married then. Red didn't care about any of that when the relationship was meaningless, or the other person was not worthy of her significant other; but everything about Elizabeth was deeper.

The other thing the Anslo attack showed him was that their proximity only made it more dangerous to her; while Red planned to show up at the FBI Headquarters, he thought that the nearness would allow him to look after her more carefully, but he had been wrong. She made him weak. She was not a vulnerability anymore; she was his weakness.

Before, he intended to keep her safe; now she was his reason to live.

"Dembe, please turn around."

"Back to miss Elizabeth's place?" Dembe asked with an inquisitive look in the rearview mirror. He could only imagine what was going on, he would never ask Raymond anything because Raymond had never said anything about what he felt for Liz. It was, however, very clear to Dembe that whatever it was, it was intense. He had known Red for a while, but he had never seen him like this.

"Yes," Red replied in a deep tone.

It was sloppy of him, Raymond was aware of it. The entire night has been a show of recklessness on his part. He crossed some lines he shouldn't have. Asking her to dance was not a problem, it had happened before and it hadn't been a big deal, even if it happened in an unforeseen way. Everything was under control, at least before that Elvis tune began. It was too late to take anything back now.

He held himself in check with difficulty as they danced; he only remembered the package he was carrying when he got outside. Luckily or not, Liz showed up before he left the place so he could hand her the gift, but he wasn't prepared for anything else.

The scent of her hair, her body curved into his body, her smooth skin lingering on his lips. He had no choice but to run after the dancing, run before he did something that would spoil everything they developed the last year - he could not let his feelings for her to get in the way of his ultimate agenda - and all the other agents were near them, so it wouldn't be appropriate.

He liked to think that way, it was comfortable; although he knew it was not true. There was only one truth: he was scared, scared to get involved; he couldn't afford to let his feelings distract him. He could not afford to have someone else to lose, he had lost too much already.

During the ride back to her house, he decided the best thing to do was to keep protecting her. He unexpectedly let out some feelings he had for her during their dance, but it was the right thing to do. After all, Liz was feeling vulnerable and she needed some comforting. His only mistake had been choosing to hold her hand; it would have been okay if she hadn't reciprocated; but she had. Her hand turning underneath his, their intertwined fingers and the light squeeze she applied to his hand. He had to act quickly, so he handed her the small package and advised her to go home and rest.

She left the car having no idea of the spark she planted that was slowly burning inside of him; but now his heart was in flames. He was not able to hold it back anymore, he had been incomplete for too long.

As soon Dembe stopped the car in front of the house again, the current burner phone started to ring. "It's agent Scott," he informed Red, handing him the device.

"Lizzie," he heard her beginning to speak in a confused tone, but he interrupted her, "I am at your front door," stepping out of the car he ended the call.

His heartbeat raced as he walked towards the entrance; his breathing labored. Her heavy footsteps coming downstairs were audible from the front hall, where Red waited for her to open the inside door. She showed up barefooted and holding both the blue box and the picture. She had been crying, her eyes were swollen and red, her eyelashes soaked in tears.

She opened the door and stood in front of him. Her eyes were filled with a mix of confusion and gratitude. There was a small move of her eyebrows as she opened her mouth to say something.

Red had always been amazed by her eyes, they were astonishing when she was angry, happy, concerned or frightened; but the tears were what had always moved him the most. They compelled him to comfort her, even when the circumstances didn't allow him to embrace her and reassure her that everything was going to be alright; he knew her temper, so there weren't many times when he could fulfill his urges. Now she needed the truth, the whole truth, because clearly she wouldn't be satisfied by his breadcrumbs; by that time, however, he would not be able to tamp down his own need for her.

He took a step forward and placed a hand at her waist, the other one at the back of her neck, his fingers went through her hair as he pulled her closer to him. He tilted his head slightly and touched her warm lips with his.

Liz's body stiffened at his touch. He pressed his lips against hers and searched her lower lip, savoring her mouth. He felt her body begin to slowly relax in his arms; Liz dropped her jaw just a little, causing his stomach to flip in anticipation. He slid his tongue inside her mouth and moved it along her bottom lip. It didn't take long for her to reciprocate the kiss; the box and the picture fell down to the ground and he felt her hands move to his arm and the bottom of his ribcage shyly.

The kiss was way better than anything he had ever imagined. Her touch was tender and passionate. He had feared for how she was going to react, now he was absolutely taken in by her. Suddenly he remembered that Liz had been drinking, and he didn't know how much alcohol she could tolerate. Then there was his gift to her; the revelation it carried. He needed her touch, he gave up denying it, but the flood of emotions the locket itself might bring was enough to cloud her line of thinking, even if she was kissing him back.

Red pulled his mouth away and slid the hand that still was caressing her neck down to her arm, reaching her hand and holding it tight. He leaned his head against her forehead. Her breath was heavy and warm. He sighed.

"Lizzie," his voice was husky but tender, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't -"

"Don't. Please," she interrupted him in a whisper. "I've been wondering why you didn't do that back in the pub. Actually… I wonder what took you so long."

Red chuckled at her words. 'Maybe I should've done it before', he thought.

"I wasn't ready. You weren't ready - maybe you're still not ready, and I don't want to spoil what this might be in the future." He took a step back and looked down, feeling ashamed. "I'm sorry for my manners, it was not chivalrous of me." Red crouched to pick up what she had dropped. He looked up and there was a small grin on her face; she looked more beautiful than ever. He stood up and handed her the picture and the locket box, and she took hold of his wrist.

"Come inside. We have a lot to talk about."