25. "You're not very good at this 'romance' thing, are you?"
"Clear!"
Liz watches the SWAT team swarm the inside of the warehouse, busy clearing the side rooms while she stalks through the dark corners of the main chamber, sweeping her Glock and flashlight over every inch.
Looking for Red.
He was taken again. Today. Naturally.
"Keen!" Liz hears Ressler's brusque call. "Over here!"
Liz turns out of the main chamber and hurries towards the sound of Ressler's voice, coming from the last room on the side hallway, the SWAT team moving easily around her.
They know not to get in her way.
She bursts into the room a second later, scanning quickly and only holstering her weapon once she confirms that the small space is empty save for Ressler, crouching on the floor next to a bloodied but conscious Red, who is propped up with his back leaning against the hard brick wall, one of his eyes swollen almost completely shut.
Liz's heart skips a beat.
Ressler stands when he sees her, walking unhurriedly to her side. "He's okay," he mutters to her. "Some bruises and a pretty nasty black eye but, hey, nothing we haven't seen before." The last bit is said with a rueful eye roll towards the ceiling as he heads towards the door. "I'll give you two some space."
"Thanks, Ress."
Liz waits until Ressler is gone before she takes a few steps forward to stand over Red, heaving a heavy sigh as she gazes down at him. At the sound of her exhalation, he tilts his head up to squint at her, as best he can through his one open eye.
They stare at each other.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Lizzie," he offers finally, trying to sound upbeat but mostly coming across as half-hearted and flat.
Liz huffs a quiet laugh anyway, dropping down onto her knees to kneel next to him, bringing a hand up to his face to gently stroke his bloodied cheek. "You're not very good at this 'romance' thing, are you?" she teases.
Red just sighs, closing his good eye at the feeling of her soft hand on his cheek. "I'm sorry, Lizzie."
"Don't be silly," she mutters to him. "Despite all evidence to the contrary, I know you don't do this on purpose." She leans a little closer to peer at his swollen eye, gently prodding the edge of the bruise with a fingertip.
He winces.
"Sorry," she murmurs. "The paramedics will be here soon."
Red nods and leans his head defeatedly against the wall. "I suppose this ruins our dinner plans for the evening."
Liz smiles, fussing pointlessly over the areas of him that are clearly uninjured, unhelpfully smoothing his vest and brushing dirt off his slacks. "That's okay," she assures him.
He opens his eye to squint at her, somehow managing to look appropriately skeptical with only one good eye. "We've been looking forward to tonight for months," he reminds her needlessly.
"I know," Liz says patiently, nodding and raising a hand to carefully dab at an oozing cut on his forehead. "But guess what?"
Red just raises an eyebrow at her.
She leans in. "I'd rather take care of you then go to a fancy dinner any night," she whispers quietly, like a secret. And she leans forward to lightly, gently, lovingly, kiss his lips. "Even on Valentine's Day."