AN: Sorry for the delay on this one, but real life gets in the way. Reviews are my best motivation, so if you got a moment to spare I would love to hear your thoughts. Enjoy!


She wakes first.

She's uncertain whether it's still the middle of the night or if the thick velvet curtains simply block out the break of dawn rather effectively, shelter them both from the outside world. From reality.

She remembers instantly. The undercover mission, the fundraiser, alcohol and a dance. Then this suite, a poem, doubts and revelations.

And then him. She can still feel him.

Can feel the warmth radiating from his body, even under the sheets, not touching her but close all the same, and thinks there's nothing she'd rather wake up to than the steady rhythm of his calm breathing. Lost in the darkness of the room she can barely make out his form next to her, but she's more than willing to wait for her eyes to adjust. Because this is what she wants. To see him like this, peaceful and content and asleep. Completely unguarded. She may never get the chance again. The mere thought shatters something within her.

She will savor every second.

With every passing moment a new feature becomes more defined and she's mesmerized by him and the intimacy the night grants her. The soft lines of his face make him look almost boyish, innocent even, and yes, this has to be the most content she's ever seen him, temporarily reprieved from past actions and demons, and she wants to believe that this is the real Raymond Reddington. This is the man she knows, that protects her, that guides her. This is the man she trusts.

She hasn't taken off the ring. Maybe it's because it serves as a naive excuse for her actions or maybe it's because she's grown attached to it, to this night, to waking up next to him, however fleeting. Releasing it would put an end to all of it. She isn't ready yet. Will she ever be?

She's got a taste of him now.

With her dress abandoned and countless confessions uttered he had kissed her, touched her. Had explored every inch of her body. His weight settled on top of her, gently, carefully. Safely.

And now she can't forget the way he had looked at her, the way her name had sounded when the two syllables left his lips. A eulogy. Worship.

Something holy.

She never told him that E.E. Cummings was one of her favorites as well. That she was fully aware how the poem continued. The full scope of its meaning.

You are whatever a moon has always meant.

His ray of light in the dark.

Whatever a sun will always sing.

She could save him.

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows.

She loves him, too.


It was foolish to think they could do this without any repercussions. How is she expected to act like nothing ever happened?

Maybe she'll be strong enough to forget the mere existence of this night. But truth is she doesn't want to. Truth is this night is the only thing she wants to remember for as long as she can. She wants to carry it with her like a talisman, a treasured memory. But most of all she wants to see it again, that look. Hear his prayers devoted to her. Feel his heartbeat under her skin.

She's never felt this desperate.

And how the hell did any of this happen?

She still has so many questions. The scars on his back and his insecurities which still amaze her and fascinate her. He can topple governments without hesitation or regret and yet the act of taking off his armor in front of her almost paralyzes him. But business deals never posed a personal threat. Her rejection did. She gets that now. She never wanted him to suffer.

Her hand reaches out on its own accord, the urge to touch him suddenly overwhelming. Gently she pulls the sheet off his shoulder, caresses the marred skin with her fingertips, then up his neck to his temple. If he's awake, he doesn't show it. Timidly she leans forward, places a kiss to the corner of his lips, moves over to his pillow as his eyes open slowly. Their breaths mingling. His lips curved into a faint smile.

They stay silent, simply look at each other.

"Lizzie" he whispers. "I can hear you think."

She wants to remember every cadence of his voice. How it resonates within her, sweetly trembles.

And he…

He should be careful and tread lightly and get out of this bed, this room, for her own good.

He should let her go and take off the ring and-

He never gets to finish his thought.

Her lips meet his tenderly and he pulls her closer, a reflex, a habit at this point, and he can't get enough and whatever promises he made- just this once- he'll happily break them all if he just gets to feel this way a little longer, if he gets to hold her, to touch her.

He's always been a selfish man. At least selectively so.

Her bright eyes are all he sees. A loving glint.

"You're quite good," she tells him.

"Quite?"

"Your ego doesn't need praise."

"But it surely would appreciate it."

"Quite good, Red. Maybe next time-"

"Next time? Aren't you presumptuous?"

"I've heard that line before."

"Quite different circumstances."

"Quite."

Someone who's willing to burn the world down to protect the one person they care about - that's a man I understand.

They're both deflecting and they know it. Discussions about what is real and what isn't, acting in character and true intentions, their relationship, no, they can't evade them forever and questions need to be answered, but this is good, this is something, and the outside world couldn't possibly compare.

The sun still hasn't risen.

In the dark, she intertwines their fingers and whispers softly. "So about next time-"

His smile is all wonder and mischief.

"Just follow my lead."