AN: First, SMUT WARNING, finally! To be honest, it isn't my best, IMO. If it leaves too much to be desired, then I recommend checking out some of my other M-rated stories - most notably Claw at your Heart, Tangled Tongues and Lips, Dream Robot, and This isn't Andy Warhol's Factory.

*If smut isn't your thing, then just skip the first two sections of this chapter. The sexytimes are gratuitous, and therefore unimportant/separate from the plot.*

Also, TOM makes an appearance that, at a glance, resembles his role in the finale, BUT DON'T WORRY. Liz isn't gonna fuck him. I'm just working in a theory that I have about his little 'change of heart' thing. If I'd have gotten Liz to show him the photo of her mother, and if I hadn't written that the director was present during the night of the fire, I'd have been able to use canon to dig further into this theory. Hopefully, I did an okay job of making a case for it anyway.

In many ways, this chapter is a re-creation of the finale that I've skewed to fit my story and lead into a fun game of summertime cat and mouse between our favorite couple and the taskforce. There's little mention of Liz's synesthesia, since she's figured out her mystery about the scent of Red's fear. Don't fret. It'll get a little more in play in upcoming chapters.

Lastly, if you're still reading this egregiously-long AN, thank you, and thank you even more for reading my story. Your reviews have been blowing me away! I can't get over how sweet and supportive you guys are. It makes me want to work much harder to live up to the praise given.

Disclaimer: I own neither the characters nor the show, and receive no monetary gains for borrowing them.

-...-...-...-...-...-...-

In Red's bedroom, Liz had a freudian imagery-laden dream about the night of the fire. After setting her bedroom ablaze, they were rescued by a winged snake that spoke to her in Latin and slithered away into the cool night air. She glanced down at her body, and found herself fully grown, but Red had been reduced to a colorless, amorphous blob, as if he'd melted in the flames. With shaky hands, she set about the task re-creating him, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't smooth out his shoulderblades, and his skin remained a darker, ashen shade of red.

Devastated by her perceived failure, she thrashed beneath the covers. Red rolled to the side and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest and holding on tightly until she stilled again. If the unseen ghosts of her nightmares wanted her, they'd have to fight him first.

No one beats him.

-...-...-...-...-...-...-

Just before dawn, Liz was awakened by the sound of her name and Red's hand grazing over her breast.

"God, Lizzie..." His voice was mostly air, seemingly-disjointed by pleasure.

She pressed backwards, leaning into the solid length at the small of her back, not realizing that he was asleep. "Mmm..."

Suddenly he froze, wide-awake and mortified, connecting the dots. He rolled onto his back and grabbed the pillow beneath his head. The sound of his labored breathing filled the room.

Liz decided that it was close enough to morning, and she had no plans to leave the ache between her legs unanswered. Intentional or not, he'd started it this time, and he'd finish it too. She rolled over and straddled his hips too quickly for any manner of protest. Red's sharp intake of breath signaled a victory. She pulled off her shirt and threw it to the floor, eliciting a low growl and a reflexive upward thrust of his hips.

His fever-hot lips tasted like nothing but themselves, and the way he used them reminded her of an orchestra conductor, setting a languid, sensual pace and signaling exactly when and where he wanted her to come in. With a slight tip of his chin, he drew her breasts closer to his face and took one into his mouth. His hands pulled her hips downwards to grind against him.

Within a matter of seconds, everything inside of her tensed and quivered, and oh god, she's -

He pushed her backwards and broke contact, releasing her nipple with a 'pop' and eliciting a frustrated groan. He sat up and leaned forward to whisper into her ear, "Sorry, I hadn't anticipated you being so... responsive, but I don't want you to come until I'm inside you." His low tone was spicy, hot apple cider and honey on her tongue. Familiar enough, but she'd never tasted it with such intensity as now. Starved and desperate, she'd do anything in the world for this.

For him.

The way she sank her teeth into her bottom lip and nodded made Red want to roughly grab her and pound into her until she saw stars, but he instead rolled her onto her back and took his time pulling off both his boxers and her panties, deliberately trying to calm himself down. He turned on his side and kissed her again, plunging his tongue past her lips and teasing her belly and inner thighs with both hands.

In an effort to hurry him along, Liz wrapped her fingers around his cock and began to stroke him. Just before his eyes slipped shut, he caught the sight of hers widening, momentarily intimidated. Is this what women are remembering when they greet him with that glazed-over look in their eyes, she wondered, or is it more?

Probably more.

A rush of possessive jealousy grabbed her from the inside, but with each deft flick of her wrist, she drew nearer to the present tense. "Oh my god, Lizzie..."

Until

Red finally pressed his thumb against her clit and buried two fingers inside of her, and all conscious thought escaped at once.

Both were reduced to a writhing mess of desire-laced moans. She was just so, so ready for him that he couldn't bear the ache of not being inside of her for another minute. He parted her thighs and situated himself between them. "Last chance to change your mind," he said.

"Like hell, Raymond!"

Music to his ears.

He kissed her with everything he had, one arm looped around her back, lifting her up and crushing her breasts against him, ignoring the stabbing pain between his ribs. Both were out of breath and gasping for air when he gazed downward and slipped inside of her in a one single, drawn-out motion. Without thought, the long-deprived beast within him took over, and he pulled out and slammed back into her three times in succession, totally lost, mesmerized by the way her eyes rolled back with each thrust.

A startled, pain-laced gasp reeled him in, and he took a deep breath and stilled himself completely. The intensity of his visceral desire for her frightened him. "I'm sorry. I - I just.." he stammered.

She shut him up by grabbing the back of his head and forcing his lips down to hers. She lifted her hips to encourage him to keep going, which he was more than happy to do, but slowly.

Tenderly.

All questions about her identity suddenly had a singular, fulfilling response, and she chanted it to him repeatedly, in time with the roll of his hips. "I'm yours." She hadn't lost sight of everything else that she was, but in the moment, it was the only thing that mattered.

Truly.

His reply matched hers in tenor. "I've always been yours."

Of course he had. Of course.

But she wanted more. The hands at his shoulders moved downwards, tracing the little rivulets of his scars, and further down to the ass that had distracted her every time Red paced around the war room - that had so often caught her eye when she was supposed to be thinking about other things. She wrapped her legs around his waist and dug her nails into the flesh she had victoriously claimed as her own, pulling him down and rising to meet each thrust. "Harder, Ray. You aren't going to break me." She squeezed her inner muscles around him, leaving him with little choice.

He grabbed her hands and pinned them to the mattress, pushing himself up to watch the rise and fall of her chest, her quivering abs, and sharp edges of her perfect hips, synced perfectly with his own. She was close, so close that Red could almost feel it already. He released her hands to grab onto her hips and adjust the angle.

She only had enough time to gasp before tipping over the edge. "Raymond, I-" With great effort, he maintained the pressure that she needed, riding out her climax and triggering his own. The pulse of his release kept her soaring, squeezing every last drop from his loins until he gave out and collapsed against her chest with a shuddering moan.

Utterly spent.

Deliciously complete.

As they drifted off to sleep again, both lamented the time they had wasted by being at odds with each other. Together, they were right.

-...-...-...-...-...-

She should have just stayed in his bed. That's what Elizabeth Keen found herself thinking over and over, all day long. Screw the cabal. Screw Karakurt. Screw Connolly. Screw Tom/Jacob-whatever. She should have just stayed. in. bed.

Where, of course, she would still be screwing Red.

Instead, she returned to work and found herself framed by the cabal for both the previous day's OREA bombing and the murder of senator Hawkins.

After escaping Connolly's clutches at the post office, she and Cooper got a lead on an address, but before they made it there, Connolly hauled in Charlene for questioning, so Cooper had to go. With Red too busy distributing the contents of the Fulcrum, that left Liz all alone to break into Andropov's hideout.

Old habits die hard. Pushing out thoughts of how she might later explain this decision to Red, she found a payphone and called Tom.

"Tom? Listen, I need your help."

"It's Jacob. Liz, I've been looking for you everywhere. Where are you?"

"Looking for the man responsible for setting me up."

"Where's Reddington?"

"Do you really expect me to tell you that?"

"Liz, you can't do this by yourself. Those people are dangerous. Come with me. I can get you out. It's gonna be okay."

"If I can clear my name, I'll be free to go anywhere I want. I don't know you, Jacob, but now would be a good time to prove that you're someone worth knowing."

"Maybe if you'd shown up to dinner last night..."

"Are you going to help me or not?"

"Fine. Meet me at the Gangplank marina. Slip 42."

"I'll be there in fifteen."

-...-...-...-...-...-

She found Tom lounging on the deck of his new boat in a pair of khakis, boat shoes, aviator sunglasses, and a crisp white button-down shirt - a new disguise. The detestable tattoo on his neck? Miraculously lasered and healed. He was clearly dressed to take off in his boat, not to roust a terrorist, and he laughed when Liz raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

"I have an address. Let's go."

"This is a bad idea, Liz."

"If you aren't going to help me, I'll just go alone."

His mirrored sunglasses impeded her view, but she was nearly certain that he rolled his eyes.

"Alright, but I'm driving."

"Where did you get a car?"

"It's a loaner."

Afraid that he might change his mind about helping, she chose not to call him out on not answering her question.

-...-...-...-...-...-

Upon their arrival at the address, Liz deftly picked the lock, ignoring Tom's amused smirk. "I see that Sam taught you well," he quipped, flicking the safety of his gun. "Here, let me go in first."

She stayed close on his heels at first, and then ducked into one room while he entered another. After clearing it, she slowly crept back in Tom's direction, and from the doorway, she saw him remove a thumb drive from Andropov's laptop and quickly pocket it, unaware that she was watching.

Strange.

She retreated just in time to hear a loud crash in the kitchen. Without a second thought, she and Tom gave chase down the fire escape and into the alley. Andropov made it to his car first, and Liz was glad that Tom had that curiously acquired Ford Mustang. Only a few blocks away, he leaped out of his vehicle and sprinted towards another. Instead of the refuge that he'd expected, the vehicle's occupants opened fire on him, Tom, and Liz. They ducked down and returned fire, but to no avail.

Andropov took a bullet in his heart, and Liz's arm was grazed as well. She dropped to her knees at his side with an anguished wail. "I needed him! I needed him to clear me, goddamnit!"

It wasn't until Tom squeezed her shoulder, imploring her to get out of there before police arrived, that she remembered the thumb drive in his pocket. Without a word, she got up and followed him back to his car, and then onto the boat.

All this time, he made no mention of what he'd found. When it finally became clear that he had no intention whatsoever of telling her about it, she began plotting to take it from him. She took off her blazer to let him tend to her arm, and tried to bite back the disgust for what she was about to do. Her eyes watered in despair, and she used that to her advantage, incorporating it into the act.

"Today, In the alley..." She intentionally trailed off, drawing his curiosity.

"What about the alley?"

"It's the weirdest thing. In that moment with the bullets flying and the glass... one thing kept running through my head... 'The boat, the boat. Why didn't you just get on his boat?'"

"Well, you're here now."

She nodded, biting her lip and giving her best doe eyes. "Tell me what to do."

When he didn't respond, she began to worry that the plan might not work. Instead of giving up, she redoubled her efforts, gritting her teeth and wincing to make him believe it was from physical pain.

"What's wrong?" He asked a little too sweetly.

She recognized that tone and smile. It was Tom Keen, trying to snow her again, not Jacob Phelps.

"I don't want to regret anything."

"What could you possibly regret?"

She leaned in closer. "Not saying yes."

"Yes to what?"

"You. Take me with you."

He shook his head, but she could see the glimmer of delight in his eyes. "Don't say that."

"All we have to do is go."

"Liz, if you go away with me, you'll never get answers. You'll never find out who you really are."

Since when did he give a damn about that, anyway? His intentions were transparent. He had to put up a minimal fight.

"I don't need to know who I am to know what I want."

His lips were mere inches from hers when he asked, "What do you want, Liz?"

"You."

She couldn't will herself to kiss him first, but fortunately, she didn't have to. He closed the gap between them, and before she knew it, it was like the store manager in Nebraska all over again, but Tom is too smart to be so easily fooled. She aggressively deepened the kiss and stood up to grope him all over, starting at his shoulders and haphazardly moving from place to place with no discernable pattern.

When he began to tug on her blouse, it spooked her into making her move too quickly. With one hand at the back of his head, she slipped the other into his pocket. He immediately grabbed her wrist, but he was just a little too late. She squeezed her fingers into a fist around the thumb drive and put all of her weight into the hand on his head, pulling it down to connect sharply with her knee as she thrusted it upwards. The bridge of his nose broke with a sickening crack, and blood gushed out, staining his new sunny-weather disguise.

He groaned and stumbled backwards in a daze, reaching for his gun. "It's not what you think!"

But Liz was faster. She grabbed her own and clocked him on the forehead, knocking him unconscious.

This time, she wanted to kill him. Really, she did, but there was more to this story. There had to be. She rolled him onto his stomach, used zip ties to bind his wrists and ankles together, and then grabbed a rope to tie him to the bolted down bed, using a tricky knot that Sam had taught her ages ago.

Since his laptop was open on the table, she popped in the thumb drive and found a treasure trove of evidence that detailed plans for destroying the lives of every member of the taskforce. Never one to waste time, Liz pocketed the thumb drive and pistol whipped Tom one last time. After doing a quick sweep to make sure there was nothing within reach that he could use to escape, she stole his phone, laptop, and the gun that he dropped.

In case he was only pretending to be knocked out, she said, "You were right, Tom. We never really know anyone, do we?"

-...-...-...-...-...-...-

The whole fucking cabal will have to answer for a lot of things, starting with Tom Connolly. Flanked by Cooper, Liz laid out her demands to the smiley glad-hand.

"You're gonna exonerate me by prosecuting Karakurt, the real killer of those 14 agents and Senator Hawkins. You're going to agree not to press charges against Charlene. You're going to reinstate Agent Cooper, and you're going to convey to the Director that he is not to touch Raymond Reddington."

Connolly, that arrogant prick, laughed as if genuinely amused. "Why would I agree to any of that?"

Cooper jumped in. "Because if you refuse, we'll take the evidence to the Bureau."

"I own the Bureau."

"Then we'll go to a federal judge."

"Good luck with that. You'll need it. Have you forgotten how easily we made Judge Denner suppress first-degree murder charges against you, Agent Keen? Did you wonder why I pretended not to know your ex-husband? Glad you're not a real spy, or you would have figured that one out right away. Although... I must admit that I'm a little surprised. After Jacob called to tell me that you were crawling back to him for help, I thought you'd be shark bait by now."

"I guess neither of us are perfect, are we?" Liz asked, smirking.

"It was almost pathetic, really. He was all too happy to team up with me. Didn't you wonder why the skinheads haven't killed him yet, Agent Keen? The river of influence runs deep."

"Oh, he's very pathetic. You should see him now." Her eyes narrowed as her smirk widened further.

"No thanks. Look around. Why do you think I'm here? There's a banquet tonight, fraternal order of police. I'm the keynote speaker, by the way. Four hours from now, I'm going to be on that stage, announcing that my office has secured an indictment against the members of a rogue task force."

"This task force was authorized by the FBI and the DOJ," Cooper replied, not letting on that his confidence was beginning to waver.

"By my predecessor at the DOJ. You're going to prison, Agent Keen. Donald Ressler? His little oxy addiction will get him drummed out of the Bureau. Samar Navabi will be extradited to Iran, where she will stand trial for the murder of one of their top nuclear scientists. Charlene, Harold, even Agent Mojtabai." His voice tasted like maple syrup, reminding her of Tom's pancakes, and it made Liz want to vomit. She stood with her arms crossed, nonplussed by the patronizing man's little tirade. None of it was news to her, until he crossed a line that she'd never allow anyone to cross, ever. "We have a little something in mind for all of you, including treason charges and the death penalty for Reddington."

He turned his back and began to walk away, not watching as she drew her pistol and aimed it at the back of his head. "So are we finished here? Because I think it's cocktail hour," he added dismissively, turning back again to crack a wise-ass grin. His eyebrows raised for a split second at the sight of her gun, but then he broke into boistrous laughter. "Oh. What are you gonna do, Agent Keen, arrest me?"

No. No, she isn't.

Cooper seemed to recognize the wild look in her eyes. Like the good man that he is, he tried to rein in the rapidly-escalating situation. "Keen, put it down."

"I'm nothing. I am a cog in a very, very large wheel. Shoot me, and somebody at least as powerful will take my place. You just won't know who." If that was his idea of pleading for his life, then it's too bad that he wouldn't have a chance to improve upon it.

Cooper tried to implore her once again, "Agent Keen, if you do this, you become everything they say you are."

"I can't let him." Nobody threatens Raymond Reddington and walks away.

"Elizabeth, listen to me. That conversation we had in my hospital room, the good person I told you I didn't want to lose..." She might later regret doing this in front of him, but all she could see was red - both the color and the man. Cooper's words ceased to register as he continued, "The agent you were before all of this- you do this, and she's gone."

She pulled the trigger and watched the evil piece of trash hit the floor in slow motion.

"Keen... Run!"

Liz dropped the gun and finally heeded his advice. When the door closed behind her and she stepped into the DC sunlight, she whispered an unheard apology to Cooper.

She'll miss him.

Shit. Now what?

Careful to keep her head down, Liz palmed a cellphone from a random passerby and ducked into an alley. Seeking a chance to help the only living witness to her crime, she quickly dialed her partner.

"Ressler."

"Hey, it's me."

"Keen? Where the hell are you?"

Nice try.

"Listen to me. Harold Cooper- he had nothing to do with this."

"You need to turn yourself in."

Clearly, he was missing the point.

"Did you hear me? Cooper is innocent!"

"Liz, you are a wanted fugitive. You just murdered the Attorney General of the United States. You have to come in."

"I can't. Listen, you should know that he was going to blackmail every member of the taskforce."

"Damn it, Liz, wake up! You keep running, and you will be hunted down."

In another situation, his intentions may have been endearing.

"I know."

"By me."

"I know, because my actions just saved your job with the FBI. Do what you gotta do, Ress. I understand."

"Don't make me do this. Please, Liz, tell me where you are."

"You want to bring someone in? Start with Tom. Slip 42 at the Gangplank marina."

Without saying goodbye, Liz hung up before Aram could ping her location. She balled her free hand into a fist and pressed her forehead against the cool brick wall of her temporary hiding spot. After taking a deep breath, she called Red.

He was obviously expecting her to call, because he answered on the first ring and greeted her by name, his voice laced with both worry and relief. "Lizzie."

But god, it was so good to hear his voice. "I need your help."

"Where are you?"

Ah, the million dollar question.

"I killed Tom Connolly."

"I know." Of course he does. "Where are you?"

She tentatively poked her head out to check the nearest street signs. "I'm on, uh, 7th and L, northeast."

"If you can, stay right where you are for now. I'm gonna call you back in two minutes with an address, and then I need you to get there as quickly as possible. Keep your wits about you, but don't worry, Lizzie. I'm gonna get you out."

Because she has him,

and he has her.

-...-...-...-...-...-...-

As he exited his Benz, Red wore the grim expression of a war-weary veteran returning to battle - hugging his best friend as if they'd never meet again.

He sat beside her on the bench and took her hand, but wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Dembe isn't coming with us?"

"He is, but not yet. He's overseeing local operations, keeping an ear to the ground."

"What about Hudson and Stuart?"

"Mr. Kaplan is tending to them."

"Why won't you look at me?" He worked his jaw like he had something to say, but didn't. "Cooper was never sick. Connolly cooked up the entire thing. The cabal wasn't just after me. They were going to take us all down, and then kill you. I couldn't let him."

"I know. Harold called."

... which meant that he already knew about Tom, and was mad about her going to him.

"You had work to do. I couldn't ask Ressler for help."

"Dembe could have gone with you."

"He was already helping you. And by the way, if I hadn't gone to Tom, then he wouldn't have pocketed Andropov's thumb drive, and we wouldn't know that he had teamed up with the cabal. I'm sorry that you're pissed off, but by all accounts, I saved our asses today."

"No."

"No?"

"He was going to kill you, Lizzie."

"But he didn't."

"Did you kill him?"

"No."

Red dropped her hand and shoved his own into his pocket, thwarting any chance of her reclaiming it. "Great..." He muttered.

"What?"

"You said that he 'pocketed' the thumb drive, and you didn't kill him. It doesn't take a genius to figure out how you got it back."

"I didn't sleep with him, if that's what you're thinking. And it's not like I let him go. I broke his nose, knocked him out, and left him hog-tied for Ressler to pick up. I know that I didn't get shit out of him while he was my hostage, but Samar's more skilled at advanced interrogation. Killing him would be the easy way out. He deserves to suffer."

Red smiled smugly, but still wouldn't look at her. "Agent Navabi is more skilled at a lot of things."

"Nice, Red. That's really nice." As she shifted her weight to stand, he reached out and grabbed the back of her blazer, keeping her seated.

"Relax, Lizzie. You already know that she works for me. Aren't you dying to know in what capacity?"

"Not anymore."

"Eyes and ears, Lizzie. Eyes and ears. I don't like surprises. She keeps me abreast of the activities within the taskforce, and she guards my interests. Yes, of which you are one. And before you get mad, remember that the taskforce now has its own blacklist, and you and I are the only ones on it."

Huh. Well, that's helpful.

"So she'll tip us off if they get too close..."

"Exactly, and for the record, my involvement with her is strictly professional, never carnal... but I'm glad to see that we're both equally capable of jealousy." He took her hand again and laced their fingers. "So, if I forgive you, will you forgive me?"

Yes, a million times.

In response, she squeezed his hand and planted a quick kiss on his lips. Red's audible sigh of relief was broken when an unmarked van pulled up in front of them. "That's us," he said, placing a hand at the small of her back.

In the back seat, he took her hand again. "By now, the taskforce has ascertained that I'm getting you out, and no doubt someone is on their way to head us off at the hangar. Unfortunately for them, my jet is currently cruising at 30,000 feet, on its way to an airstrip in Blacksburg. We should be there in about four hours."

Liz put her head on his shoulder. "Thank you."

He rested his own head on top of hers. "Anything for you, Lizzie. Anything."