"Reddington. Fancy seeing you here," Ressler said, feigning surprise when it was Red who pulled open the door to Liz's apartment rather than Liz.
"Donald, you're a terrible actor," Red said. "Come in, make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be ready soon, but there's tea and finger sandwiches in the living room."
"Finger sandwiches," Ressler said to himself. "Of course there's finger sandwiches."
He glanced around at Liz's things as he wandered over to the couch.
"So what's all this about?" he asked. "I know you didn't invite me here just because you felt like throwing a dinner party. I doubt I'd make the top of your guest list."
"You're right. We have a new strategy we'd like to discuss."
"Look, whatever strategy you two use in private is none of my business."
"We meant a new strategy for how we approach The Blacklist from now on, but since you brought it up…" Red carefully handed Liz a teacup and their fingers brushed on the saucer as she pulled away. "If you're interested in advice in that arena, I'm sure we'd be able to offer some guidance. Just think of the possibilities, Donald. We could help you work up the nerve to ask out that lab tech you can't talk to without blushing. Maybe we could even go on a double date sometime."
"Thanks, but I think I'll pass." Ressler took a few finger sandwiches and arranged them on one of the small plates that Red had found buried in the back of Liz's cupboard. "So what's this new strategy, anyway?" he said.
"It's similar to the old one, but with a twist. Think of it as The Blacklist: The Elizabeth Keen Edition."
"That's great. You can even hear the capital letters," Ressler said, sitting back in his chair and balancing his plate on his knee. "What's it mean?"
"We'd like to shift the focus towards Agent Keen's priorities in choosing who on The Blacklist to target, rather than just mine. I'll be sharing more information with her with the intent to offer a more complete picture of the challenges we're up against, and the hope that she'll be able to help me better strategize how to complete the list as quickly and safely as possible."
"Why?"
"Because her motives are… I won't say more pure—we're both coming from a selfish place, in a way—but more efficient? In reaching her end goal."
"And what is your end goal?"
"Freedom," Liz said. "Freedom to live my life how I choose, without the threat of Reddington's enemies hanging over us. Freedom to try to be… normal. As normal as we can manage, at least. I don't want to keep doing this forever. This isn't even the job I signed up for. How often do I actually get to profile anyone anyway?"
"And you're OK with this? After doing things the way you have been for so long—"
"Doing things my way, Donald, hit a stand-still a long time ago. Sometimes, there is such a thing as being too Machiavellian, too calculating. Too settled into your own ideas of The Way To Do Things. When I turned myself in, I wanted to see my world through Agent Keen's eyes; I think it's about time we make good on that."
Red handed a teacup to Ressler and then took a seat next to Liz on the love seat.
"How do I factor in to all this?"
"We need someone on the inside to help… smooth over the transition, such as it is," Red explained. "To help allay any fears that arise when our hunt for Blacklisters has suddenly become a lot more collaborative."
"I'm surprised you'd be willing to give up some control like this. I always kinda figured you had some immutable master plan and we were all just pieces on your chess board."
"Well, Donald, far be it for me to shatter any illusions you've had about my omnipotence or omniscience, but I guess you're getting a peek behind the curtain," he said. "The order in which I've given you names from the list has always been more opportunistic than immutable. We're just taking that a little further from now on."
"OK, so, Liz gets a say now. Say we do this and finish your list—what happens then?"
"Well, Reddington has his immunity agreement," Liz said. "I put my life on hold for The Blacklist. I'd like to pick it back up again as soon as possible."
"And you're just gonna, what? Be along for the ride?" he asked Red. "The Concierge of Crime is OK with being domesticated?"
Red sipped at his tea while he considered Ressler's question; Liz could feel the effort it took for him to keep his demeanor civil in the stiffness of his movements, the set of his jaw.
"I think you've always had a blind spot where I'm concerned, Donald. It's why you were never able to catch me; you have a fundamental misunderstanding about what motivates me," he said, his tone carefully measured, "and that puts you at a disadvantage.
"I feel very responsible for pulling the rug out from under Agent Keen and all of her plans. Even if it's for the best in the long run that… certain people are no longer involved in her life, I never consulted with her before setting the dominoes in motion that caused everything to collapse. I'd like nothing more than to help her rebuild her life, and since she's receptive to letting me try, against all odds…"
Red's gaze locked with Liz's and he smiled; she took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
Ressler cleared his throat. "Weren't you and Tom, uh… about to start a family when all this started?"
He took a sip of tea, nonchalant. Liz's grip on Red's hand tightened unconsciously and she only really noticed when he tightened his in return.
"Yes."
Ressler looked back and forth between the two of them, curious and thoughtful, but didn't take the line of questioning any further. He took another sip of his tea.
Liz let out a breath.
She and Red hadn't discussed children, not since he tried everything he could to dissuade her from pursuing adoption with Tom. She didn't think he had been trying to discourage her from ever having children back then, just… from tying herself to a manipulative, abusive asshole like Tom, especially with a child in the middle.
He spoke so wistfully of his own lost family, his own lost… normality. Longing to have a family was obviously one of the core things they had in common, but did that mean they should have one together?
Now was not the time to contemplate things like that, so soon after reconciling with Red. Damn Ressler for even putting the idea in her head. She certainly hoped he couldn't sense the tension in the moment, but all he did was add a couple more finger sandwiches to his plate and start to eat, as if there was nothing left to discuss.
Red cleared his throat and thankfully changed the subject. "You don't have any objections?"
"None that I can think of now," he said around a mouthful of food; he washed it down with another sip of tea. "This all sounds reasonable. Almost unbelievably reasonable. I'm kinda still waiting for the catch."
"There's no catch," Liz said. "We just want to put this behind us and move on with our lives."
"Honestly? That sounds good to me. I wouldn't mind a little stability either. The last couple years have been wild."
Just as Liz and Red exchanged a perplexed glance over how easy it was to convince Ressler, the timer went off in the kitchen and Red excused himself to see to dinner.
"You're really OK with all this?" Liz said, her voice soft, "I thought you'd put up a little bit of a fight at least, just to live up to your reputation as a hard-ass."
"Why bother? You'll do it whether you have my blessing or not, but at least this way, I'm not flying completely blind. Besides, it'll look great on my resume when all this is over. And you've got yourself a hell of a househusband out of the deal," he said. "This stuff is good. I bet the main course is better."
"Househusband?"
"Yeah." He gestured towards the kitchen, where Red was focused on carving up the roast that had just finished resting. "Look at him. Tell me he doesn't enjoy this. Sure as hell enjoys it more than you do."
Liz bit back an hysterical giggle. "God. Save the marriage talk until at least dessert."
