28: Little Mouse

Red's mind raced as he sat on the couch, staring out the window to where the White House stood beyond the square. Laney slept on the floor where she had sat down in her shock at his revelation. She'd lain there for a time, staring at the ceiling, silent but not unnoticed tears chasing each other down her temples and into the pile of carpet beyond. He had hoped to keep her from knowing the truth about her father and Dan for as long as possible, if not forever. He knew that it would crush her and he couldn't seem to rid himself of the stricken look that had crossed her face as she heard the truth. Eventually she had drifted off. He'd pulled a blanket from the bed and covered her with it although she still wore her jacket and gloves. It gave him some small measure of comfort to take care of her even if she really didn't need him to.

Now she knew the lion's share of the truth. At least the important parts. He had no doubt she'd piece the rest together as they went. She was sagacious that way. She had that uncanny ability to pull information out of thin air. Red sighed, bone weary. He was worried. Not for himself but for his family—Lizzie, Laney, Dan, and little Beth—how she had reminded him of what Lizzie had probably been like at that age, all wild dark hair, big blue eyes, and a sweet disposition.

Laney stirred, bringing his attention back to the present. He turned his head to look at her as she sat next to him. She leaned against him, dropping her head onto his shoulder. They sat there in silence for a long time, both lost in thought, staring into space. It comforted him to have the warm weight of her pressed into his side. He wasn't quite alone in this. Didn't have to shoulder the weight by himself. He was both grateful and terrified by it and yet he knew he had absolutely no control over the situation.

"You joined to protect him, didn't you." Her voice was little more than a whisper and it was a statement of fact.

"Yeah," he said, his voice tight with emotion. He wondered what she was thinking, if she was even thinking straight at all. She sat, quietly leaning into him for a long while.

"Why were you coming to me in Brussels?"

"What?" The question caught him off guard.

"When I was on tour in Brussels, when Ressler was hunting you. Why were you coming to see me? It had been 18 years and it wasn't my first European tour. Surely it wasn't just curiosity and proximity."

"No."

"Then why?"

"Elizabeth," he said simply.

"What about her?"

"I was coming to ask for your help with her."

"What kind of help? She had to be…what…24-ish?"

"Yeah," he said again. "She was about to graduate and she was looking to move to New York and join the Bureau's field office there. I knew that would take her out of Sam's care altogether and put her within reach of the Cabal. You were headed back to New York and I thought to strategically place you into her life to help me keep an eye on her."

"What did you do when that plan failed?" she asked. He shifted uncomfortably. She tilted her head back and he could feel her studying his profile. "Raymond?"

"I inserted Tom Keen into her life."

"Wait. What?" she said, sitting up. "Tom Keen, her ex? Kill squad Tom Keen? Agent of Berlin Tom Keen?"

"Yeah."

"Well that seems to have worked out well," she said dryly.

"The best-laid schemes of mice and men," he quipped.

"But little Mouse, you are not alone, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes of mice and men Go often askew, And leave us nothing but grief and pain, For promised joy! Still you are blessed, compared with me! The present only touches you: But oh! I backward cast my eye, On prospects dreary! And forward, though I cannot see, I guess and fear!" Lane quoted.

"You're familiar with Robert Burns. I'm not surprised," he said, shaking his head. He felt certain that should they ever meet up over a game of trivia that it would be a battle to the end. "So you see why I wished to keep you clear of this disaster, little mouse? At least you could live without fear and regret."

"Had the mouse been better prepared, it could have built its home in a safer place and remained untouched altogether," she pointed out. He loved that about Laney. She always had a logical counterpoint. She held up her mittened hand. "Off, please."

He helped her pull off one mitten, then the other. He watched as she fumbled to undo the buttons of her coat. She stood and shrugged out of it, tossing it on a chair. She was beautiful in her soft cream colored shirt and tight jeans. Her hair was gorgeous when she wore it straight but he especially loved when she left the naturally soft curls to dance riotously around her shoulders. He was surprised when she straddled him, settling down onto his lap. Sometimes she approached him with a familiarity that he was unaccustomed to. Her arms went around his shoulders even as his hands settled on her hips.

"I would have helped," she said softly, looking into his eyes. It almost hurt him to look at her, her face so open, her emotions laid bare.

"Except for that whole wanting me dead thing," he teased, feeling his own face soften as he smiled at her.

"That was Ressler. I mostly just wanted to kick your ass." He couldn't help but laugh at her grin.

"Of that, I have no doubt."

"We'll make this right, Danny and I," she said, her face suddenly serious.

"You can't make this right, baby. You need to stay as uninvolved as possible. And Danny." He swallowed because it hurt him to say it. "It's going to come down to Danny or me."

"It won't. We're going to figure this out." He envied her the optimism but he knew she was wrong. He shook his head at her in awe. "What?"

"You amaze me."

"How's that?"

"Because you assimilate all of this and keep pushing forward. Anyone else would have run away screaming by now." He knew that for a fact. He'd seen it with every woman he'd ever been truly close to.

"The hand is dealt. The die is cast. Whatever metaphorical adage you want to assign to this nightmare, it is what it is," she said with a shrug.

"You're not scared?" he asked incredulously.

"Concerned? Yes. Scared? No. I'm willing to pit my wit against anyone's. Especially spoiled assholes that have had their egos stroked for far too long and bask in their own misguided glory. What they see as their strength, I see as their greatest vulnerability. We only have to manipulate the situation to suit us."

She'd pretty much just summed up his philosophy of life for the past twenty years. Maybe she was right. Maybe they could out-wit the Cabal. Or maybe they were equally foolish in their estimation. Time would tell.

"Delaney."

"Raymond."

"Thank you for being here," he said sincerely.

She cupped his cheek with her right hand and leaned forward, taking his mouth gently with hers. His heart hammered as she deepened the kiss by degrees. God, he wanted her so badly. His hands slid under her thighs as he pulled her forward so that she was flush against him. The sound of satisfaction she made was almost enough to wreck his resolve. His hands moved under her shirt and traced the curve of her slender back. She arched against him, kissing him deeply, her hand clutching the back of his neck. If she kept rubbing against him, he knew he'd be lost.

She pulled back, breaking the kiss. Her mouth was swollen, her chin and nose pink despite the fact that he was closely shaved. Her eyes were stormy as they settled on his. She bit her bottom lip, running her tongue over it like she was savoring the taste of him. He felt a punch of unadulterated lust.

"It's a good thing you steadfastly reject my advances or you'd find yourself thoroughly fucked right now," she said, her voice husky. She leaned over and nipped the sensitive spot just behind his ear, sending a shiver up his spine.

"The spot behind your ear is deliciously sensitive," she said with a smug grin, pushing herself to her feet. Damn her for turning his words back on him. He groaned and slouched back into the couch, rubbing his hands over his face. He was ten times a fool.