A/N: So this is the final chapter. Complete lizzington smut really, a few feels, a few awws etc etc. thanks everyone for following and for the kind reviews and words. I'm thinking about making a new lizzington story, but not sure yet. Anyway, disclaimed as always. The song used was The Troubles by U2. Even if you aren't a U2 fan, I recommend listening to it. It's a great song and I love it!

Lizzie didn't usually do this kind of thing. At least, not until that fateful night that felt so long ago. She smiled wistfully of the memory. The long way they'd come from that night…the first time she'd danced for him…

Shaking her head, she continued rifling through her side of the closet she shared with Red. Memories continued to assail her though as she looked for the right outfit.

Everything had been settled, battles fought, lost and won. The war had come to a close between them and the Cabal. It had been bloody, fraught with close calls and hurled accusations and a few career ending cases opened and closed. The Cabal had been truly ferocious. It had been truly a global syndicate of evil, interwoven through the governments and gangs of countries all over the world.

Nights that had been spent on the run, nights of waking up, frantic, the FBI one step behind, one door back, one car over, again and again. She'd cried, he'd even cried, they'd fought to stay together, to clear her name and to end the nefarious group. Which, had sadly infiltrated her beloved bureau, though beloved wouldn't be a word she'd use now.

Days that had been spent planning, gathering evidence, sending cases to the Post Office. Days spent carrying out various deals in the underbelly of the criminal world, uncovering more faces from the fulcrum, more faces in the government, more faces in seemingly innocuous places and tying them all together, like on a giant pin board with bright red thread. Red had shown her how truly vicious he could be, shown her just what he'd done to garner such a notorious name around the world. And arguably, those days had led to some of the most incredible nights. Because that viciousness was never directed at her, but oh was it always for her.

For her protection, for her safety, for her wellbeing both in body and mind. For her happiness and her wants and her dreams and her life. For her. Always for her and the sight of the man in action, not the Red she saw at the Post office in those early days, not the Red he was with her, but Raymond Reddington, the criminal, the well trained naval officer gone rogue after being burnt both literally and figuratively. The man that could bring a grimace or a smile to the face of every high standing person around the world depending on where you sat on his radar.

Lizzie smiled again at those nights, a deep crimson blushing across her face and body, heat warming her up. She loved those nights, even on the run, even the nights they seemed only seconds ahead of everyone chasing them. Those nights she cherished.

"Sweetheart, have you seen that record of the Rolling Stones?" Red's voice called out from the ground floor. She'd been so lost in her own thoughts she'd almost forgotten he was home.

"Check the drawing room, babe," she called back quickly. She didn't need him coming upstairs before she was ready. She had a special evening planned for them. For him really. She waited for his "A-ha!" upon finding the record before she went back to the closet. She was starting to think she'd left the top and jacket at another safe house…

They'd been through hell together and yet, in the last few years since going on the run, since clearing her name, since taking down the cabal, since becoming an integral part of his team and operation alongside becoming his wife…

Oh their wedding, her thoughts detoured through the memories. Their wedding had been quiet, just their closest friends, mainly Aram, Samar, Dembe and a few others. A quaint town somewhere in the Alps, she'd forgotten the name, but never the old church. Never had his black and charcoal suit fitted him so well. The way her own black and charcoal dress had hugged her, her bouquet of wine red roses almost striking against her pearlescent skin and the dark hue of the satin dress. The colors of fall around them, the warm way he'd smiled at her, speaking his vows and then she hers. And then he'd said, I love you Elizabeth Reddington, and it had never felt so right. Never had anything felt so right than to hear him murmur those words, that deep baritone. And she'd murmured back, I love you Raymond Reddington, and they'd kissed. Their friends whooped and hollered and they'd broken apart, smiling against the others lips…

…And yet, his scars, her misgivings, his misgivings about them, about her, her harsh words spoken brashly before she'd known everything….

None of it had come into the light. Yes they'd put their various doubts to rest, both about their lives, their relationship, their affection and love for each other. But she'd never talked, spoken out loud about everything she'd said or done. And she knew he forgave her, and knew he'd never ask forgiveness for his own.

You are so damaged….

The words, spoken what felt like a lifetime ago, floated around her head and she knew that was exactly how he felt. He wouldn't this evening, never again she would hope when thinking about them and her. Tonight she was going to make him understand. She yipped in excitement upon finding the outfit she'd worn that night at the club. The night that had started it all…

Red was finishing their dinner, the Very Best of the Rolling Stones playing, when Lizzie appeared in the kitchen.

"Ah, darling woman, come taste this peppercorn sauce I'm making for our steaks. Honey, I'm telling you one-" he was cut off when she kissed him. Soft lips and darting tongues and biting teeth and wow the way she kissed him.

She slid her lips from his, reaching around and turning the stove off. Dinner could wait.

"Lizzie?" he asked huskily, his mossy green eyes narrowing on her smirking face. She smiled mischievously and pulled him into the living room of the grand mansion. Every flat space had candles on it, vanilla and sandalwood and there was a chair in the middle of the spacious room. The black furniture lining the walls seemed warm, inviting, the smells of the candles pleasant and warm as well.

"Darling, our dinner will ruin…" he murmured as she positioned him at the chair. Before he sat though, she stopped him, sliding his already unbuttoned vest from his shoulders to toss to the couch a few feet to the right of them.

"Dinner can wait, husband," she answered him quietly. Her voice shook slightly and he began to worry. Was she upset? Was she having second thoughts about their lives together? Was she deciding life with a criminal perpetually in danger wasn't going to do it for her?

"Lizzie, are you ok? Is everything alright?" he tried to catch her gaze that had moved along with her fingers to his chest. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. Savoring the warm feel of his body beneath her hands. His muscles beneath her.

"Everything is fine. Perfect actually, except one thing…" she trailed off, and smiled to reassure him it wasn't something bad. She began to deftly undo his shirt, pulling it from his trousers until it hung from his shoulders, open.

"Which is…?" Red was confused. And oddly aroused. Where was she going, what was she doing?

"Red…Raymond, I've never really apologized for my completely inaccurate at times assumptions of your motives, of your emotions in regards to myself and to us…" she started, her electric blue eyes gazing into his. Her fingers found his belt buckle and tugged it open, making him take a sharp breath. Her fingers brushed his burgeoning erection as she slowly unzipped his tailored slacks, now hanging precariously from his hips with the weight of the belt daring gravity to let them fall to the ground.

"Elizabeth, I've never thought to ask for your forgiveness sweetheart. While done-" he started but she cut him off again for the second time that evening, shoving him into the chair with a smirk.

"Red, sometimes you talk too much," she grinned and then sobered. "No. I knew you wouldn't ever either. I once told you that you were so damaged you didn't deem yourself worthy of help, forgiveness…of love. But Raymond Reddington…" she trailed off, backing over to the wall parallel to them. A large stereo system sat there, along with the record player. She turned the record off and instead turned the complex stereo system on. She fiddled for a moment and then a cd began playing. A haunting melody flowed around the room, and she moved. Dancing slowly with the beat, her hands roaming up and down her body much like that first night.

Somebody stepped inside your soul, somebody stepped inside your soul, little by little they robbed and stole, till someone else was in control…

Red was mesmerized as she moved towards him. And he realized she was wearing the same outfit from that night too. The same jacket, dropped to the floor as she danced hypnotically to him. The way her body moved…

She was precise in her movements, ever twist and turn and drop to the floor motivated to make him lose himself in the song. In her.

"You think it's easier, to put your finger on the trouble, when the trouble is destroying you," she sang, eyes stuck on his. She was wearing that same green tee, those same jeans… Her hands ran up her sides again and into her hair and then she was in front of him.

She gripped his shoulders, sitting across his lap and gyrating slowly, poignantly staring into his eyes.

"We have a will for survival," she'd tweaked the lyrics a bit as she sang, "so you can hurt us, and then hurt us some more, we can live with denial, because they're not our troubles anymore."

Red was lost in the music, quickly becoming one of his favorite songs as she moved against him. Her center pressed against his throbbing erection, grinding down onto him. Her voice with the lyrics swirling around the room and his brain. What was she trying to say what was she trying to tell him?

"You think it's easier, to give up on the trouble, if the trouble is destroying you," her lips brushed his ears and she stood, circling around behind him and he mourned the loss of her hot body and movements against him. "You think its easier, but before you threw me a rope, it was the one thing I could hold onto…" her lips brushed the shell of his ear as she leaned over him from behind, her head next to his, her fingers sliding through the hair on his chest and across his stomach. He breathed deeply. Her fingers danced across his chest and abdomen, her lips brushed his jaw and neck and he turned his head to capture them in a deep and searing kiss.

The tenderness he tasted, the love and devotion, he wanted to weep at her emotions clearly displayed for him to perceive as he wished.

"You completely stepped inside my soul," she moaned breaking the kiss again. The moment she'd been building towards was coming and she needed to be on his lap, in front of him for him to completely understand what was going on.

"You completely stepped inside my soul, little by little you robbed and stole," she came around again and sat against his lap yet again. His hands found her hips, squeezing as she took first her shirt off. And then, as the chorus melted into something else, she slid her hands beneath his shirt onto his shoulders and he stiffened.

"God knows it's not easy," she murmured, conveying with her eyes forgiveness and love and hope and acceptance, "Taking on the shape of someone, else's pain," her hand slid back and to the side and his shirt dropped to his elbows, where with her encouragement, he let it drop completely from his body, to bunch at his waist between himself and the chair. "God now I can see you," she slid her hands around his ribcage underneath his arms to splay against his back, against his scars, mottled and thick with the burns he'd suffered, "I'm naked and I'm not afraid, my body's, sacred and I'm not ashamed…" she let the moment sink in for him and tears glistened at the corners of his eyes. The song continued to play but they were silent.

"Lizzie…" he choked, closing his eyes tightly and trembling against her. She gave him everything, gave him the forgiveness, the love, the redemption he'd so desperately craved but never allowed himself to ask for or feel. And she'd done so beautifully.

"Raymond," she countered, one hand snaking back around and up to cup his jaw, her thumb lightly rubbed against his lips and he kissed the pad, meeting her gaze. He finally understood and he felt the weight he hadn't even known he'd been carrying lift from his shoulders. She'd known. She'd accepted him. She loved him no matter what, scars and past included.

"Lizzie," he moaned and then he kissed her, his hands sliding up her back to wrap around her body. His lips were hard and soft and hard again, as were hers and that night. When he'd carried her to bed, the passion they'd shared was slow burning, deeply imbedded with the love they felt for each other. It was tender and sweet.

Every kiss had been lain with reverence and understanding, every brush of fingertips soft and calculated to produce the most pleasurable sensation. His fingers, sliding down her arms, their clothes long discarded. Across her pert breasts, pebbling the peaks to her soft moans. Across her abdomen and his mouth had followed, just as soft, delivering suckling nips and procuring more moans from her body. Down to grasp her thighs, spreading her for his wandering mouth and she'd cried out, his given name and his thick erection had bobbed.

Before she'd fallen into the abyss though she'd pushed him from her, raising up on her knees and kissing him hungrily, tasting her own wetness on his lips and she'd turned them, falling with him to the bed and it was her turn. Her turn to trace her fingers across his tawny skin, her turn to bring moans from his body as he had hers. Her turn to dance across his chest, his flat nipples that were just as sensitive as hers. down across his abdomen as well, her fingers ruffling through the soft hair on his chest and the harsh exhalation of her name as she'd taken his shaft into her mouth, as far as she could go, using her hand for what she couldn't was a sound she would forever remember.

He'd tasted divine, tangy and sweet and rock hard under velvety warm skin. she'd almost forgotten her own need. Red had to beg her to stop, tangling his hand in her hair because he wouldn't' tell her no if she had to have him come this way. But she remembered, and felt her own sex pulsing with her want and she let him loose from her mouth but as he tried to pull her on top she shook her head.

She wanted him on top.

Oh.

So she could touch him, caress him, wrap around him and he obliged her willingly. And wrap around him she had, her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his muscled bottom, her arms around his neck. She didn't let him pull away for hard thrusts or fast thrusts no. she wanted him on top of him, her hands rubbed at his back and shoulder and the deep slow movements as they moved together drove them closer and closer. His hips were pressed to hers, rocking forward when hers moved into the bed, backward when hers pushed forward. A tango of bodies and limbs and souls.

And then they shattered.

Elizabeth moaned his name huskily into his ear, one hand falling back to grip the pillow with the intensity of her orgasm. She squeezed around him, around his shaft, around his body, from her head in the crook of his neck to her heels in the back of his thighs and bottom, she squeezed around him. And then he'd moaned her name, a broken gasp as he came too. His hand snaked out from her shoulder to slide up her arm, his fingers intertwining with hers and grasping for dear life.

Never had they felt such an intense, soul shattering climax. Never had he throbbed so perfectly in time with her contracting muscles, never had she squeezed around him, from head to toe, or he her. Never had he felt so at home. So right and perfect in the moment and he knew. They both knew it was because in that moment, their souls aligned and slipped inside the other, mates for life because that was just how strong their love was, their shared past, their shared pain and journeys. It was them to the end, and that was what was right.

Later they would talk, laugh and giggle, reminisce about the past, clear the air about some of it. Later they would explicitly say, in words, what all was shared with that dance she did for him. Later he would make love to her again, in earnest and later they would fall asleep tangled together, the sheets around their hips.

Lizzie didn't usually do that kind of thing, but oh how glad she was she had.

Because now she was Elizabeth Reddington, now she was happy in her own skin, happy with a man that had shown her what really true love was. Now she was her own woman, though she could never work in law enforcement again, and you know what, that suited her just fine. Because at the end of the day, she was Red's woman, and he was her man. By his side was where she belonged.

Because even though she couldn't work in law enforcement, she could work with law enforcement. Because they had blacklisters to catch to send to the FBI. Because as he said one day, so long ago.

They were gonna make a great team.

And a great team they were.