I own nothing to do with the Blacklist. I am just a fan and distracting myself from its hiatus, until it returns.

Thank you all so much for your lovely words. I tend to get very anxious when I update, so it means a lot to read your kind words of encouragements. Even the follows and alerts are really positive and reassuring to me. I do hope you enjoy this one ;)

Hope you had a wonderful Christmas and great start to the New Year!

Chapter Four

Elizabeth was halfway down the stairs when she stopped on the last step, uncertain on what she wanted. She felt immediately foolish, running out on him abruptly like she just had. She bit down on her lip with her front teeth, wondering whether she ought to just turn around and go back upstairs to his room again. A part of her didn't want to leave just yet. A part of her was telling her it was impolite of her, that she would regret it for the rest of her life if she never saw him again.

She felt as if she was being pathetic. She certainly had never felt this way about a man before; so conflicted over what she wanted. She hadn't met many men that she had liked, or felt immediately attracted to. Not many had expressed their interest in her, not that she cared. Usually she was too busy to even think about men; Her life revolved around taking care of her father and working her fingers to the bone so that she could afford to put decent food on the table for them to survive and make do for a good week or two. Men hardly ever came into the equation.

Belatedly, she realized the hotel clerk was watching her from behind his counter so she made herself get into moving again towards the exit, her heels clicking after her. She caught sight of the newspaper in the magazine rack near the counter and as she approached, she saw the image on the first page and felt her heart stop for one single second in her chest.

"Sir, do you mind if I take this?" she asked the clerk, reaching over and removing the Chicago Daily Tribune paper from its slot in the rack.

The clerk clearly took pity on her, because he said, "That's fine, Miss. We were just going to throw it out later on anyway."

"Thank you." She worked a smile on her lips and left, holding the newspaper tightly in her hand. She could do some background reading later in the privacy of her bedroom.

Once she reached the apartment she lived in with her father, she unlocked it and quietly slipped inside, kicking off her shoes. As she tiptoed upstairs and along the hallway, she could faintly hear her father snoring in his room. She was relieved; At least she wouldn't have to try to explain to her father why she had been kept out for so long, when he was already fast asleep. Liz hated the thought of having to conjure up some lie to tell her father into where she had been and why it had taken her so long to return home after work.

Heading into her bedroom, she shut the door as quietly as she possibly could, then rested her forehead against the cool wood, trying to regulate her breathing. Then with hands that wouldn't seem to stop trembling, she crossed over to her bed and switched on the night lamp on her night table, sitting against her stack of pillows as she spread the newspaper carefully open on her bed spread.

Red certainly hadn't been lying. Maybe it was a case of denial, but she hadn't been entirely sure whether to believe him, about all that business he had admitted to. Now, seeing the black-and-white photo gracing the front page of the newspaper, denial was next to impossible now.

He was who he said he was, indeed.

Although the black-and-white mugshot was smudged and smeared with ink from various fingers at the hotel touching it, she knew it was him. Holding a placard that stated his height and the general basics, he had a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he stared directly into the lens of the camera. The photo was of the very same man she had spent the evening with; The very same man who had introduced her to her first alcoholic beverage, an Aviation cocktail. The same man who had let her hold his gun and let her experience how it felt to hold such an empowering and deadly weapon. And the very same man she had felt so tempted to kiss and be intimate with, up there, in his room.

The bold black lettering on the headline read:

GET REDDINGTON!

$15,000 Reward, Dead or Alive.

Notify any Sheriff or Chief of Police of Chicago

or THIS BUREAU:

CHICAGO STATE BUREAU OF CRIMINAL INDENTIFICATION

AND INVESTIGATION.

He was wanted for several robberies around the country, as well as the manslaughter of two police officers, as well as several other casualties of ordinary citizens. The paper warned everyone to be on the lookout, that he was usually heavily armed and dangerous, often wearing a bulletproof vest. Take no unnecessary chances with this man, the article said. He is thoroughly prepared to shoot his way out of anything. A man called Donald Ressler was put in charge of the main investigation of taking Raymond Reddington down. Any information should be directed straight to him. Any significant information about his whereabouts could get the person a five-thousand-dollar reward alone.

Liz knew the right thing to do was probably reporting to this man in charge of the investigation, this Donald Ressler, or someone in authority that she knew of Raymond Reddington's whereabouts, that he was here, in Chicago, and that she had only just spent a couple of hours with the very man. But considering the raid that had taken place at the club Ellie had brought her to last night, no doubt the police were already onto it and had already suspected as much. What good would it do, if she contacted anyone? They probably already knew, and she decided she would rather die than collect any reward they offered her for that information.

Any woman in her position probably would have done the right thing, as a law-abiding citizen, in contacting the police immediately. Yet Liz reasoned that the police probably already knew he was currently in Chicago, and that in doing so would be a wasted- and pointless- effort. And besides, she felt a sudden, strange sense of loyalty to the man. Why would she bother dobbing him in when he was doing something right and lashing out on the banks and those that unfairly made it harder to get by in the current economic crisis they were going through?

Licking her lips, she studied the photograph more closely, deciding it was a prison mugshot, probably taken at the very prison he had confessed he broke out of merely four days ago. The feelings that came over her just by studying the photograph disarmed her and made her wonder if there was something seriously wrong with her. Just like tonight, as he was standing behind her, showing her how to properly hold and aim his gun, she felt that same desire course through her.

Now that she knew his idenitity for sure and how seriously he was in trouble by the law, it didn't seem to change her feelings at all. She was not entirely sure why. She felt attracted to him, and for some reason, she felt that attraction for him soar to a higher level now that she saw how much of a wanted figure he was, and just how much a bounty was on his head.

She had been struggling to put a decent amount of food on the table for her father and pay the bills for awhile now. Working ridiculous hours of the night hadn't helped any, and they were barely scraping by. This Raymond Reddington was worth a big sum of money. She tried to imagine herself luring him in and causing him to get captured, and how she would get a big reward afterwards. Fifteen-thousand was a lot of money; Money that, if she had, her and her father would never have struggle to get by ever again. She could even afford to get the proper medicine and a doctor to help treat her father and make him better. She fantasized for a moment how life would be, how easy and wonderful, with all that money.

But then she found the thought of turning Red in too... somehow inconceivable. It made her stomach roll unpleasantly, the thought of her deceiving someone in such a way.

Liz always thought she would have better sense as a young-woman, to know when to not get involved with someone, and to make good, proper judgment on who she should associate with, and who she shouldn't. All of this didn't seem to change the fact that she wanted him.

She didn't care, Liz realized then.

She didn't care who he was or what he did, or the fact that he was in trouble. Big, big trouble. The newspapers painted him as this dangerous, menacing monster; A man that destroyed properties, was ruthless, and had killed many innocent civilians, as well as a couple of lawmen.

All that mattered was how he had made her feel, in that short time of being around him.

He made her feel as if she was someone special, someone worthy of being treated with respect. He had acted like nothing else but a true gentleman towards her tonight, not some vicious, wanted criminal. He made her feel as if he felt she was someone he could take out to extravagant places, wining and dining her with expensive meals.

The fact he made front-page on the newspapers only just made him all the more alluring to her. She found she could not wait until she saw him again and was in his company.

Once Liz was done with scrutinizing his photo in the paper and reading through the article several times, she slid it safely under her bed and made the attempt to get a goodnight's sleep. Sleep came easier to her this night.

XXX

She was working, doing the same boring tedious work she always did, at the Steuben Club. Then it happened. Out of nowhere, gunshots echoed and cracked around the room. People screamed and ducked for cover, huddling down on the marbled floor, covering their faces, their heads. She was the only one who hadn't bothered hiding from where she was behind the counter. She felt brave, unafraid and unaffected by the shots being fired around the room. If anything, it excited her and thrilled her on some deep, perverse level.

And then there he was, worming his way into her vision, both hands clasped over his handgun, fedora on his head, looking deceptively calm and as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be doing, in shooting bullets around her workplace and scaring all of the customers in the process.

People on the floor were whispering and panting, and Liz heard a woman squeal in fear as he disregarded every single person in the room to march towards where she was standing, behind the counter. The muzzle of the gun was pointing directly at her chest, but she felt not a flinch or frisson of fear overcome her. His eyes held hers for a long moment, and she stared back unwaveringly, feeling a twinge of excitement and this staggering, raging need for him.

He made a silent gesture with the muzzle of his gun for her to come out from behind the counter and without a thought into her own personal safety in doing such a careless thing, she did, stepping over a woman's legs as she huddled on the marbled floor in fear. In an exaggeratedly slow move, as if he didn't want to startle her, Liz watched as one of his hands loosened in its grip around the gun and then he was holding his hand out to her, fingers splayed and invitingly teasing her to take hold of it, and go off with him.

"You're with me now," he finally spoke after a moment, his voice soft and rumbly. His eyes held hers in, and her gaze darted uncontrollably between his lips and his eyes, unsettled on just where she wanted to look. "I'm going to make you famous, Lizzie. You're going to be known as Raymond Reddington's girl." It was a promise, and it made her feel breathless, the sincerity of the vow.

Her heart skipped a beat as she heard sirens from police automobiles in the not too-faint distance. They were closing in on them. She had to be quick. "All right," she agreed in a rush, and just as her hand was clenching over his, her eyes popped open and the darkness of her room was surrounding her. She sat up slowly, her heart pounding in her chest, sweat covering her body, this strange feeling of depression sinking over her and pulling her under.

It was only a dream. Just a mere dream, and it was unfair.

"I'm going to make you famous, Lizzie. You're going to be known as Raymond Reddington's girl."

If only.

If only...