Days went on, where sleeping wrapped around each other became as much the routine as Aram making breakfast and Samar making dinner. It was never spoken of again –with neither of them overly sure what they should say or how they should feel about both of them being clearly far more comfortable sleeping that way- but night after night, it went on wordlessly, eliciting those deep sighs of contentment from each one upon falling to sleep, and those sleepy, musing smiles upon waking up again the next morning.
When awake, Samar was more and more stir crazy, with the tiniest fraction more energy returning each day, but still unable to venture outside the apartment.
In a desperate bid for something to do, something to try and make friends with Aram's turtle, and a way to test out the added security measures Aram had added to her electronic financial trail, Samar even went so far as to do some online shopping –purchasing a variety of plants, rocks, and mock driftwood in more entertaining shapes that would replace the bare minimum objects already in Leo's terrarium that Aram had received with the turtle in question without having enough time to redecorate. Two days later, upon their delivery at the apartment, Samar was faced with the first notable frustration at not being able to leave the apartment and check the mail.
She waited as she discreetly peered through the window, watching the postman enter the building's foyer with the parcel, and then exiting again... And she waited once again for Aram to return home, passing the mail delivery on his way through and bringing it upstairs with him.
The wait felt like agony.
After her having already beaten every last one of his Xbox high scores, Aram was somehow completely unsurprised at yet another move that inadvertently established Samar's apparent takeover of his apartment. Instead, with an amused grin, he stood by her side that evening, both of them arranging the new selection of terrarium decorations together while Leo swam around, quite happily nosing about each one.
At work, Aram continued to navigate that fine line between keeping his cover and keeping Samar safe, all the while Ressler remained relentless in his attempts to track down The Phoenix... Until finally, Reddington swooped in. The unexpected rumbling open of the elevator doors nearly made Ressler jump in his pacing in front of Aram's desk, and the number four on the FBI's most wanted list strolled in. Reddington flipped his fedora over in his hands, the smile on his face somehow seeming even more smug that it usually did. Aram's eyes were wide and wary as he watched the scene unfold in front of him; Ressler turning from his pacing to stand deathly still with arms folded, staring impatiently at the criminal strolling oh so casually towards him until they were as close to each other as Ressler was to Aram's desk. Liz, standing beside Aram's chair on the opposite side of the desk, watched on just as curiously –for all of Reddington's insistence that he only ever talk to her, it seemed his sudden arrival was just as much a surprise to her as it was to Ressler.
'Agent Ressler,' Reddington greeted the ginger agent in front of him, with a chuckle almost breaking into his voice, 'still chasing that mythical assassin?'
'She's real,' Ressler replied. His eyes narrowed in impatience as he spoke, and without even realising it he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, more focused on glaring back at Reddington.
'Perhaps,' the older man mused, 'but you have no evidence.' He flipped the fedora over once more in his hands, panning his gaze from Ressler, to Liz, to Aram, and then back again, breaking into his trademark smirk. 'You've had the city practically on lockdown, using countless resources and Metro PD manpower chasing a woman against whom you have no evidence of any crime besides one fake driver's license and one flimsy count of breaking and entering.'
'She's killed countless people all over the world,' Ressler stubbornly tried to interject.
'She might have.' Reddington's smirk only widened as he spoke. 'But what are you going to use to convince a judge of that when people start questioning the resources you've put into this without actually achieving anything?' Finally, he shifted his gaze for good from Ressler to Liz, gesturing to a slim file in Dembe's hand. 'If you're really wanting to make some credible arrests, I have a new Blacklister you could pursue.'
Aram didn't know what to say and neither, it seemed, did Ressler. Inside, Aram's stomach was turning desperately hopeful somersaults at the idea that the case against Samar might be dropped –or at least, temporarily- but he had to steel himself, he had to restrain any glimmer of delight from suddenly crossing his face. Ressler's face, by contrast, bore a look of thunder; Reddington was right and unfortunately, all of them in the room knew it.
Quickly spotting the need to step in and move things onwards, Liz rounded the desk to take the file from Dembe who was, as per usual, silently standing guard behind Reddington. She flicked through the pages even faster again, nodded her approval, before pointing out a page of key interest to Ressler.
With a reluctant, frustrated nod of his own at the pages, Ressler conceded. Chasing Samar would have to wait until another day… Not that he wasn't going to continue keeping an eye out for her in his own spare time.
/*/*/*/*
That evening as Aram returned home and unlocked the front door, there was a small, cardboard carry box balanced carefully in one hand. The joy at the case against Samar being momentarily dropped hadn't faded, but it was certainly no longer the only emotion now swirling in his gut at the new development. Aram knew that if the case was dropped, that meant Samar was free to travel again without anywhere near as high a risk of being chased down by law enforcement. If Samar was free to travel again, that meant she no longer had to stay at his apartment... And with the two of them already so deep in such a comfortable routine together, Aram wasn't sure how he felt about the idea of Samar suddenly being able to leave that much sooner than expected.
The fact that for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why Reddington would have been so insistent on having Samar's case dropped was curious but far from the top of Aram's priority list. He wanted so desperately for Samar to be free, but at the same time... There was a deep affection for her now that made him not want to lose her, and that was the dilemma that took precedence in his head.
Aram was pretty sure he knew what that dilemma meant, but he was far less sure that he wanted to know it.
Feelings only made things all the more complicated.
The box in his hand that contained what Aram told himself was both a celebratory gift and something for Samar to do, but in reality it was denial; he was celebrating her potential freedom, without wanting her to leave. Aram crept wordlessly through the apartment, for a split second reminding himself to look pleased at the development rather than conflicted by his newfound dilemma... But the reminders only needed to last a second. As Aram rounded the corner from the hallway into the living room, then crossed it towards the kitchen, he couldn't help but break into a more genuine smile at the sound of Samar ambling around in the kitchen and muttering to herself, the overwhelming smell of baking that floated through the air towards him, and finally... The sight of Samar having completely overturned the kitchen.
For some, having a supposed guest completely take over the apartment would have been rude or even an annoyance, but as far as Aram was concerned, Samar's antics were simply an amusement, and a reassuring sign of just how comfortable she was there. If anything, even just the way she glanced up, and smiled warmly back at him in greeting, left a certain swelling of affection that Aram felt inside. He didn't care that she was in yoga pants and a worn, oversized t-shirt, that her eyes bore dark rings from how tired she was, or that her hair was a tangled mess because she couldn't lift her arms to brush and tie it back properly and instead had to rely on him tackling it before and after work. He didn't care that she seemed to have no qualms whatsoever about being in his personal space, or that eight times out of ten she left it messy.
Aram simply enjoyed having her around; she made him smile, and she certainly kept him on his toes, but only in the best possible way.
Even her stubbornness, to him, was endearing.
'You've been busy,' Aram observed, grinning at the mess of pots, pans, trays, bowls, and all kinds of utensils scattered over every last inch of the counter. There was a soup still simmering on the stove top, that if the smell was any indication, appeared to be lentil soup –or more importantly, his favourite- and on the trays still steaming after having just been pulled from the oven, there were fresh chocolate chip cookies.
'I was bored,' Samar replied, shrugging her shoulders and breaking into an even wider grin. Her eyes crinkled with a certain mischief that was practically contagious, and Aram found himself scuttling a little faster across the remainder of the room to stand across the counter from her, before finally setting down the cardboard box on the only fraction of counter space left. Samar tilted her head, observing it curiously; 'what's that?' She asked.
'A present,' Aram chirped back. 'Agent Ressler had to pull back all the resources on your case today-' Samar's gaze snapped back to him in an instant, her heart skipping a beat in surprise, and her eyes wide as the meaning of that began to sink in '-and I thought we should celebrate.'
'With-' Samar raised a quizzical eyebrow and peered inside the box as she spoke '-a bonsai tree?' She glanced up again with a hint of confusion; the joy was there, but for the moment still overtaken with a level of surprise that had the faintest hint of adrenaline starting to race through her system. A second later, and the pieces fell together in her brain; her case being dropped meant it was no longer necessary to seek refuge in Aram's apartment –or at least, for as many weeks as first thought, anyway. The bonsai tree, on the other hand and no matter how much she liked it, seemed an unusual choice, and the confusion only added to the strange swirling of sudden emotion in her gut.
'It's something for you to do,' he mused, 'you know, in little bits each day as it grows. I was trying to think outside of the box-' Aram paused, rolling his eyes at his own accidental pun '-so to speak.' The tiny tree in its tiny saucer was easy enough for her to carry around wherever she went. Caring for it required considerable long term thought, planning, and regular effort, but without the sort of physical strain that she wasn't allowed to undertake. Samar had spoken often enough in their dinner and weekend conversations about the garden she had grown up with and had missed ever since and so, with all factors considered, Aram had wracked his brain and the bonsai tree was both the best thing he could think of that covered all bases, and it was something a little different.
And if the sudden, softer smile that slowly lit Samar's face as she thought about it was supposed to be any indication, she agreed.
The contemplative silence that fell between them didn't last long enough; a sudden knock on the door made them both jump, then glance back at each other in concern. Without a word being exchanged, they knew what to do; Samar ducked immediately –or rather, as immediately she could without actually running- into the bedroom, while Aram smoothed down his jacket, steadying himself, then moved towards the door.
'Mrs Lund?' Aram did a double take, surprised by the appearance of his elderly neighbour standing on the other side of the door as he opened it. 'How are you?'
'Oh, I'm very well, my dear,' the little, old lady beamed back, 'how about you?'
'Uh,' he hesitated, trying to force as casual a smile as possible, 'everything's fine here.' There was something mildly unsettling about the knowing grin that stretched wide across the face of the woman with the flyaway, white hair.
'I seem to be just one cup short of flour,' she explained, but her eyes wandered not at all subtly past Aram's shoulders and down the entry hall of his apartment. 'Might I borrow some?'
'Oh, sure.' Aram bobbed his head, 'just a second.' He turned on his heels, moving quickly down the hall and back towards the kitchen.
'You know, Aram,' the older woman began again. Aram froze, glancing back over his shoulder at her; he had thought that she would stay waiting at the door but instead, it seemed, she had taken his movement as the cue to follow him inside, eagerly chattering as she did so. Aram forced himself to keep moving, to continue the casual act, and hoped beyond everything that there wasn't anything laying around the living room that obviously didn't belong to him. 'I was sure you seemed to have a girlfriend staying with you lately,' she continued on, the words now drawn out with a knowing curiosity.
'What makes you say that?' Aram awkwardly chuckled back. Pouring the cup of flour into a small tupperware container for her, Aram couldn't quite meet her eye. He was sure, that in the bedroom, Samar could now hear every word of the conversation.
'Oh, I hear things,' the elderly woman mused, all too pleased with herself, 'call it an old woman's intuition.' She took the container from him gladly and for the second moment that day, Aram was at a loss for what to say.
'Everything ok out here, honey?' Samar's oh so casual, sweet voice floated out towards them from the bedroom, followed shortly thereafter by Samar herself... And with a flirtatious smirk on her face to boot. She ambled towards Aram's side, careful to move in such a way that her physical restrictions didn't seem quite so obvious, and wrapped herself around his arm, leaning into his side.
Clearly, while listening in, Samar had come to the same conclusion he had; that Aram's nosy neighbour wasn't going to let the matter go until she had confirmation of her curiosities... And so there Samar was, improvising the girlfriend story they had agreed upon when she had first arrived.
Thankfully, they both knew that old Mrs Lund had a particular distaste for television to the point of not even owning one, so she wouldn't recognise Samar's face from the news reports of her initial escape from hospital.
Aram made quick work of introducing the two, trying to steady himself rather than feel unnerved by the look of gossip-y delight on his neighbour's face, or the way Samar was making a show of their romance by kissing his cheek, running her fingers through his hair and down his cheek, and finally intertwining her fingers through his –all to prompt Mrs Lund to leave by giving her the idea that they had other things to be doing and that she had interrupted them. Finally, she did so, container of flour grasped tightly in hand while Samar waved her away with a friendly smile... Until the front door closed, and Samar shifted her gaze back to Aram, teasing smile widely etched across her face and eyebrows waggling in amusement. Aram was painfully aware of just how close Samar was standing to him and in fact, he was painfully aware of just how intently he seemed to be noticing and taking in every tiny gesture and change of her facial expression all of a sudden –which wasn't to say he didn't usually notice her, because he did, but simply that it was suddenly no longer a matter of noticing her subconsciously. Every moment that she smiled or laughed, or brushed against his skin, Aram found himself hyper aware of it, and a breath caught in his throat. Perhaps it was the sudden knowledge that she could leave and his brain trying to take in every last part of her before she did, Aram wasn't sure... But it certainly didn't help suppress the complicated feelings he was trying to deny.
Samar, meanwhile, couldn't quite manage to break the flirtatious grin from her face. Waiting anxiously in the bedroom, straining with her ear against the door to listen until Aram and Mrs Lund had moved into the kitchen and she realised that the person at the door was not a threat, had jolted all joy at the idea of her case being dropped, and instead replaced it with the sudden fear of being discovered by his co-workers. The time spent standing there, though short, had sent what felt like a hundred anxious thoughts flashing through her brain, all prompted by that very fear.
Being discovered by his colleagues, just as did the idea of being able to leave his apartment to flee the country once and for all, meant being separated from Aram in some form or another.
And when confronted by that idea right there in that instant, Samar knew; she wasn't ready to leave yet... And more importantly, she didn't want to leave Aram behind.
Staring up at him now, with Mrs Lund finally gone, the affection for Aram screamed in her head. Of course, she didn't know the same dilemma was bothering him, just as he didn't know it was now bothering her... But that didn't matter.
All that mattered to Samar was that she wasn't sure how to talk to him about it.
/*/*/*/*
Later that night, Aram remained wide awake, staring up at the ceiling as Samar's eyes flickered softly closed, and her breathing slowed with slumber. She was curled into his side with her head resting on his chest again, and Aram had his arm wrapped around her, holding her close. The anxious thoughts continued swirling around in his brain and Aram tilted his head, burying his face in her dark curls. He took a deep breath, taking a certain comfort in her presence and the now all too familiar smell of her shampoo.
No matter how hard Aram tried to tell himself to opposite, he certainly couldn't deny it.
Between being tied to his dining chair and now, through the hunt for her parents' killer, the whirlwind of her escape from hospital, and all the amusement of her taking over his apartment... In all that time, he didn't just adore her as a friend.
He had fallen completely in love with her.
But now it felt like he had figured that out far too late.
/*/*/*/*
The next morning, it was Samar who woke first, still curled contently into Aram's side while he slept on soundly. She gazed at the sleeping smile on his face, and nuzzled against his cheek, pressing the tiniest of soft kisses there as she did so, and then letting out a miserable sigh.
She didn't know what to do.
She didn't want to leave, and the fact that she now could –and by extension, she soon should, once she managed to regain a little more strength- only made the realisation all the more difficult.
She loved him.
And she was pretty sure there was nothing she could do about it.
A/N: Next up, 'No Road is Without its Bumps'
Shoutouts to LoriRon and Saramshipper223 (ao3) for correct guesses in last week's round of 'Guess Whimsy's Nonsense'. Reddington was who I was referring to with the question, but the guess of nosy, old Mrs Lund is right on the nose too.
I honestly cannot for the life of me, think of anything in the next chapter that is guess-worthy though, so we'll have to take a chapter break on the guessing game this week!