Red answered right away, not even halfway through the first ring.
"Lizzy," he said, simply; his voice was hoarse—suspiciously so.
"Were you asleep?"
"No." He cleared his throat and tried again. "No. Just having a nightcap."
"And feeling sorry for yourself?"
He was silent for a moment and when he spoke again, he sounded rather weary. "Did you need something, Lizzy?"
"I was wondering if Dembe could pick me up. I've had some wine at work, I shouldn't be driving."
"I'm sure he won't mind, but a taxi would no doubt be quicker."
"I didn't think you'd appreciate me taking a cab to your new safe house."
"You want Dembe to bring you here?"
"Yes."
A beat. "Is something wrong?"
"No. No. But… I need to talk to you. I need us to talk."
She could hear rustling in the background, and a door close in the distance. "Of course. He'll be there within the hour."
"Thank you."
Liz ended the call and set the phone back on her desk, staring at it like it might come to life at any second and wander off.
"That didn't sound so bad."
"Huh?" Liz's head snapped up and she came face to face with a very curious Ressler. Right. He was still there, still… listening. "Oh. No, I guess not."
A strange sort of restlessness started to bubble up inside Liz. She felt charged, like a ball of energy with nowhere productive to direct herself. She drummed her fingers on her desk, a less conspicuous nervous tic than rubbing at her scar, but not nearly as satisfying or distracting. And right now at this very moment? She needed distracting. Quite desperately.
For weeks, the taste of Red's mouth flashed across her mind at the most inopportune times. The sensation of his skillful hands on her heated skin, of his body moving against her, inside her… She could feel the memories creeping up on her even now, as she faced the prospect of seeing him without the veneer of their work obligations to serve as a barrier between them.
Ressler's attention itched at the back of Liz's neck as self-consciousness began to set in. Ever since she found out about The Fulcrum, she'd been alone in the shame that she had allowed herself to be taken in again. But now Ressler knew, he knew that she and Red were… that they had… It wasn't even outside the realm of possibility that their discussion tonight could lead to them reconciling. If that was the case, well…
"God. I can't believe this is my life now."
"If you need me to, I don't know, be on standby or something, be backup for you in case this doesn't go the way you—"
"I'm gonna go wait for Dembe out by my car," she said, standing abruptly; the sudden movement and interruption brought Ressler up short.
"Sure. Fine. Whatever," he said, more than a little dejected.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"
"No, it's fine, I get it. You're nervous."
"Yeah, I am. I don't even know if I'm gonna get through this and not just… chicken out and tell him to go fuck himself again."
Ressler chuckled. "Well, I'm sure he's used to it if you do."
Liz paused putting on her coat to playfully flip him off and he only chuckled louder. She rolled her eyes and headed for the door.
"Hey, Keen," Ressler called after her; she turned back to look at him. "Good luck."
"Thanks." She shook her head and let out a breathless little laugh. "I can't believe I have your blessing for this."
"It's not like it's completely selfless of me. You being on good terms with Reddington makes my job easier—and safer! If this is the only way that happens—and at this point, it kinda seems like it is—then so be it."
"Well, whatever the reason… I appreciate it."
Red pulled the door open before Dembe even had a chance to put the key in the lock.
"Come in, come in, you'll catch your death out on the stoop," he said, and stepped aside so they could move past him into the entryway.
Red lingered slightly nearer to Liz than was strictly necessary after he closed and locked the door.
"Can I take your coat?" he asked, a little too polite, overeager.
"Uh… sure," Liz said.
Dembe glanced back and forth between the two of them and quietly excused himself, shaking his head as he went.
Red waited patiently for Liz to unwind her scarf from her neck and shrug out of her coat. She stuffed her knit cap down one of the sleeves and handed everything over to Red.
She took advantage of the time it took him to find a suitable place for her things in the closet to observe him. He was still a little drunk—they both were—but he had obviously made a very recent effort to clean himself up. His aftershave smelled fresh, if a bit too heavily applied, and his skin looked bright and pink and newly washed.
He was nervous, too—that much was obvious. He didn't have the slightest clue what to expect from her tonight. Liz hadn't sought out a meeting like this since before everything went to hell. He couldn't quite hide the undercurrent of hope in his expression, in his body language; Liz felt a pang in her chest. It seemed so… genuine. And not just because she wanted it to be.
Red was a good actor. Liz knew that. He wouldn't have survived this long if he wasn't. But this didn't feel like an act. And, even more relevant, there would be absolutely no use in continuing the ruse at this point anyway. Short of altering her memory, there was no way to change what she knew and nothing to gain from acting like his feelings were real unless they were, since she already doubted him.
After an interminably awkward silence, Red ushered her into the study.
"Would you like something to drink?" he asked; he unstoppered the crystal decanter and held it over a tumbler, waiting for her answer.
"I think I've had enough for the night."
He nodded and after a moment, he put the stopper back in without pouring anything for himself either.
"So… what did you want to talk about?" he asked; he didn't quite manage to sound nonchalant, like his hope and his wariness combined to sap him of some of his usual ability to dissemble.
"Us."
"'Us' as in FBI agent and informant or 'us' as in—"
"'Us' as in us," she said. "'Us' as in what we were before you ran off and got yourself locked up in a fucking fortress."
Red took a deep breath and let it out all at once in a harsh exhalation. "Right. OK. What would you like to—"
"I wanted it to be real so badly," Liz whispered, right to the point, her voice cracking as she struggled and stumbled to get the words out as quickly as she could, lest she never get them out at all. She couldn't believe that she was choking up. She thought she was long past that stage, that she only had bitterness left.
It had been her who stepped over each and every line before—her who had leaned in one cold winter evening and kissed Red on the love seat in front of the fireplace, her who had taken his hands from neutral ground and placed them under the hem of her sweater, her who led him to her bedroom and began undressing them both.
After Braxton, Liz started to think she shouldn't have pursued him so hard that night. She wondered if his uncertainty might have been his way of being kind, of not pushing her past the point of no return, but she'd steamrolled right over every boundary in her haste.
And it had been wonderful. Red helped her feel things she never knew she could feel. She had never had a lover who was so attentive to her needs, so… turned on by the very idea of her pleasure. That was partly why her disillusionment had hit so hard—if Red's passion could be fake, anything could be.
"What we had was real, Lizzy. It is real." He moved to take an instinctive step towards her, but caught himself, very aware of how hesitant she'd been with him touching her since Braxton. She took a step forward herself, and his relief showed in the softening of every awkward angle of his body. Another step forward and her fingers brushed against his. "All of it. I would never, could never try to take advantage of you the way that…" He trailed off, and some of the color drained from his face.
The way that Tom had.
That's what he almost said. And maybe he'd considered that before, but maybe he hadn't. Maybe this was the first time the full weight of the implications occurred to him. That they'd fallen into bed together, fallen into a relationship, then he'd inadvertently led her to discover The Fulcrum and the mystery surrounding it and the fact he needed it desperately—from her.
"Do you have any idea what it felt like? For me to let my guard down for the first time after Tom and then almost immediately find out that the only reason you're in my life is because you want something that I have?"
"But it's not. I understand why it feels like it is, but…" He took a shaky breath. "I came into you life for a multitude of reasons, Lizzy. The Fulcrum was only one of them, and it was so far down that list, it almost didn't matter at all. Until it did. And even then… It only mattered because you were in danger. If I could've gone on pretending like it was in my possession forever, I would have.
"As long as my enemies thought I had it, I was perfectly satisfied to let the location remain a mystery to me, too. There was no chance anyone would ever be able to steal it from me, no matter how hard they tried. And as long as I didn't know, no one could torture the location out of me either.
"But Braxton forced my hand. If I had been able to neutralize him without word getting out…" He shrugged. "But that's moot now, isn't it? The cat's out of the bag. The Cabal suspects Braxton was right, that I don't have it. No matter how hard I work to prevent it, truth will out. I should be used to that by now."
"You still want me to give it to you."
"I wish you would. It would be… beneficial for both of us. But I can't make you. I can't demand it of you. It's yours to do with as you wish—I can only offer guidance if you want to take it."
The intensity of Red's gaze made Liz's stomach flutter, but there was also a softness to it, a softness and a fondness that she prayed could only be real.
"Regardless of The Fulcrum," he said, his voice low and earnest, "if you take anything away from this conversation tonight, I hope it's this: being with you meant the world to me. Not a day goes by when I don't wish things had gone a different way."
"I wish they'd gone a different way, too. I wish…"
He shifted his body, and his fingers brushed hers again, but he made no move to take her hand.
"What do you wish, Lizzy?"
"You could have told me what you were planning to do. If you had, maybe I could've… I don't know. Helped you? Talked you out of it? Convinced you that maybe we could've tried to figure out where it was?"
Thoughts moved quickly behind Red's eyes as they flitted back and forth over her face. "You're right."
Liz sucked in a breath. She expected him to argue. Him agreeing with her took the wind out of her sails.
"Why didn't you?"
"I don't know. I don't think I've adjusted to the idea that not hiding things is an option. Our relationship… progressed… so unexpectedly, I wasn't yet prepared to change tactics."
"I must be losing my mind," she said.
"Why?"
"Because I think I might believe you."
"Well, that's—mmm." She threw her arms around his neck and cut him off with a kiss. His hands came up to rest on the back of her shoulders, gentler than they had any need to be, as if he was afraid to pull her closer despite wanting to do so desperately.
"It's OK," Liz said, her voice low, her breath mingling with his, "I want you to touch me."
And then she kissed him again.
The sound of Red whimpering into her mouth as he finally tightened his embrace was music to her ears. It brought her back to the first night she kissed him, when his soft, surprised gasp had done more to inform her opinion of him than just about anything else. If all of it was really true, then maybe she was making the right decision here.
When they pulled back from the kiss, they studied each others faces as they struggled to catch their breath, arms still wrapped around shoulders, fingers still grasping at clothing.
"Where's the bedroom in this place?"
"Upstairs, down the hall, third door on the left."
"Sounds complicated—we could just stay here instead."
"Well, that's not terribly romantic."
"Is romance really the goal here?"
He looked thoughtful, wistful. "It could be. If you'd like it to be."
"You'd like it to be."
He searched her face for a long, silent moment. "I would like it to be very much. Besides, it's better than having my ass stick to that leather sofa."
"OK. Take me to bed, then. I have other plans for that ass."
Red's eyes sparked with heat and mischief, and his lips curved slowly into a grin. "I'll bet you do."
