Author's Note: Set right at the end of The Good Samaritan. Many thanks to my beta, Meaghan M (Juulna).
He hadn't tried to contact her for almost six weeks; not in any way. Confusingly, she was unprepared to be left without him. She'd made the mistake of taking his warmth for granted, as if she'd tamed it. As if it was a purring cat, content to be curled around her feet at all times. But wild cats had the tendency to leave. And it wasn't every day that they returned.
He'd lost his Luli; his very own faithful companion that only purred when she could make him happy. He'd loved her. Perhaps he needed time to do his suffering in peace. Or maybe she should bite the bullet for him, just like he'd done so many times when she needed to be consoled. Was he waiting for her to seek him out? It was too juvenile of an attitude, she concluded. Reddington was no boy.
She should be focused on the stale leftovers of her marriage. But she refused to dive into that shallow well. It was going to leave her wet and shivering but not quite dead. She'd deal with it later. She'd have to. But her mind was somewhere else now; it was wherever he was. She wanted to see him, to touch his proud shoulders and tell him he had her still. She was no Luli. But he did have her. He had to know she was not a wild animal he could release into the wild. Not yet. Her wounds were not healed. She wasn't ready to be untamed again. She'd call him tonight, she decided. She'd tell him. It would be her first step into the wild.
Tom announced he'd be leaving town. For work. She had her doubts, of course. But she was truly happy that she'd have the house all to herself. She'd have time to torture herself before dialing Red's number - the magical combination of digits that would grant her the sound of his soothing voice.
She was startled to find him inside her house. He'd made himself comfortable on her couch. She hadn't even sensed his presence or his beautiful scent upon entering her hallway. She should have. She should have had at least a dozen lungfuls before she even faced him. If he'd decided to simply not wait for her to return, she would have missed him. She wouldn't have even known. She realized then that she was wasting time analyzing her ignorance when she should have been taking him in.
They talked. She'd seated herself across from him, not daring to frighten him off of her territory. He was a rare cat that had bestowed her with his visit. It wasn't every day that rare cats visited her sad home.
They talked about the moll. He'd been "out and about". It was all he told her when she attempted a questioning. He was blindfolding her with casualness and she accepted it. She was going to be blind tonight. Granted, her endless craving for the truth would resurface tomorrow. But for the blessed time being she was a blind woman and he was leading her through the comfortable darkness. More importantly, he was back. He was there to stay. It occurred to her she shouldn't feel so overjoyed by his mere presence. Then, she remembered she was voluntarily blind. Her other senses were overwhelmed by his presence and were responding to his stimuli only. Sobering up would be a painful ordeal.
"Have I given you a key I've forgotten about?" She smiled a broad and happy smile.
"How have you been, Lizzie?" He only ever answered her questions when he deemed it was necessary. Tonight was not the night she'd try to break that habit. Tonight she wanted to embrace him; all of him.
"I've been alright. Yeah, I've been fine," she told him, nodding, conveying her truth. "You could've called. If you needed to talk to someone," she told him.
"You could've called too, Lizzie. If you wanted to talk to me." Unfulfilled good intentions were worth very little. So, she spared him the story of her internal turmoil and how she was preparing to make the call.
"Point taken. It's just that you always call. You can't just stop calling. It was a cruel thing to do," she informed him. "Take off your coat. It's warm in here," she suggested after a couple of tense beats. He did. He placed it on the couch, right next to him. It was his territory.
"It would seem you've missed me, sweetheart." And he was delighted. Strangely, she missed their games, even though he often won.
"I have. Did you miss me?" she asked him boldly.
"I have. Immensely. Never doubt that." He was very serious, utterly truthful. She'd won that game. So, she decided she could try her luck again and approached him. She took his coat and laid it down on the nearby living room chair, letting the length of the fabric rest on both armrests. She sat down next to him, not giving him nearly enough space. But he didn't cower away. He was comfortable with her exploration of him; of them.
His arms were set high on her sofa. She'd be a fool not to use the opportunity to inhale him. She had to find out if the side of his chest would pillow her head as perfectly as she'd hoped. It did.
"I'm sorry about Luli," she told him, and hugged his middle. She squeezed. He kissed her forehead once and let his lips linger. He nudged her head up and kissed her left eyelid. It made her happy and full, the fact that he knew he was not alone in his tenderness for her. She was the one comforting him; she was of genuine use.
It was the first time he'd accepted her help.
"Did you bring me anything?" She thought to inject some humor into their dire story and it paid off. It made him chuckle. She was winning tonight.
"Only myself. So, nothing you'd like," he murmured against her eyelid.
"Comes to show you know nothing about my tastes," she smiled, eyes still closed. Voluntary blindness was Heaven.
He stayed with her, hand on her blanket-covered thigh until she was sound asleep.