He woke before her at first light, hearing the birds outside as the soft pale light filtered through the trees. She was still against him, her nakedness all too apparent in the morning light. He didn't want to wake her, and just lay still, taking in the moment. Taking in the feel of her against him as her body moved slightly with every breath. It had been years since he'd felt this sense of peace. With Audrey… He looked up at the ceiling, and sent up a silent 'I hope this is okay, sweetie,' yet somehow knowing she'd be happy for him.

A little while later, Liz moved slightly against him, stirring from her sleep. She woke to find him still holding her against his chest. For a second, he felt the slightest jolt in her as she remembered, then felt her relax and mold back into him.

"Morning," he said softly, and rubbing his chest, she met his eyes, smiling.

"Morning," she replied, then remembered something else. "Happy Christmas eve," she said, eliciting a grin from him.

"If this is Christmas eve, I can't wait for Christmas," he said, smiling.

"Oh, well, if you play your cards right, you might just have a very good Christmas," she told him, moving against him as her hand slid down his chest, then lower to find him already half aroused. His arms encircled her, and in one movement he rolled her, gently spread her legs with his knee as he supported himself on his elbows.

And this time they savoured it. They moved slowly, making it last, enjoying the feel of each other as their two bodies entwined.

###

An hour later, after a not so successful attempt at showering together in the small bathroom, but still having fun with it, they made breakfast.

"What's the plan today?" she asked, as they sat across the table from each other.

He looked up from his bacon, and met her eyes. He knew what he'd rather be doing today. Specifically, doing to her today.

"Oh, I know that look," she laughed, sipping on her coffee.

"Hey, I'm a guy," he said, as if that explained everything.

She quieted then, and looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. "I've just never seen that look in you."

He shrugged, feeling that silence was his best option here.

"But I like it, seeing it in your eyes," she clarified, smiling at him over her coffee cup. "Very much so." Her hand slid across the table, and his met hers.

Their eyes met, and then he lowered his fork to his plate. He glanced out the window, then back at her, his expression serious.

"Uh oh, you're over thinking it," she teased, lowering her coffee cup. "I know that look too."

He nodded. Yes, she knew him.

She smiled at him. "You're thinking that now that things have changed, how are we going to go forward? Are we in a relationship or friends with benefits? How are we going to work together if we're in a relationship? How will Cooper handle this, coming so soon after Aram and Samar? Am I right?"

He smiled, looking down, and then back at her. That was half of it. "Nailed it."

She squeezed his hand, then drew it back from his as she finished off her breakfast. "You know what I think?"

He met her eyes, the faintest of smiles on his lips, then told her what she was thinking. "You're thinking that we're adults. We can do this and still work together. And that if we want to sleep together it's none of Cooper's damn business." He raised his eyebrows in question.

She laughed, and he smiled, loving seeing that in her. "Oh, you're good," she told him, then rose and began to clear the table. As he poured them a second coffee, they stepped out onto the porch. The sun was up, and despite the snow from last night it wasn't bitter cold. As they sipped their coffee and leaned on the porch rail, his eyes wandered over the white landscape.

"There is something though, that I'm not over thinking, but I do feel that I need to..." Faltering, he looked down, then felt her hand on his arm.

"Tell me," she said, as her coffee steamed from her mug around her face.

Mind made up, he looked out at the trees again. "If we're going to do this, then you need to know all of me. Everything. The good, the bad, the ugly." He turned back to her, to find her blue eyes piercing in the morning light against the snow.

"Then you need to know about me, too," she replied softly. "All of it. Fair's fair."

And in understanding, they went back into the cabin, and after he added another log to the fire, they made themselves comfortable on the couch.

"I'll go first," he said, looking toward the photo of his father, as if to receive his blessing. What was it about being in this cabin that made him confide his deepest, darkest secrets to those he loved? He took a deep breath. "It's about Laurel Hitchin..."

###

He'd spilled it all. His killing Hitchin, hiring Prescott. How he'd become the very thing he despised in cops. The very thing that got his father killed. And then what Red had done. The whole sordid mess. She'd let him talk without interruption. At times silent tears had rolled down her cheeks as he spoke. At others her hand reached for his, supporting him over the more painful parts. And he told her how he'd struggled while she'd been in the coma, needing her to wake up.

"So that's why Cooper made me take two weeks off. And why I came here to try and clear my head," he finished. "And I spent one evening telling my father everything I just told you." Liz glanced at the photo on the wall. She knew what he meant.

"I'm so sorry, Ress, that my being in the coma affected you so deeply..."

"It's okay," he assured her, turning back from the crackling fire.

"And Red came here, knowing what you were going through, far more than Cooper did."

He nodded. "You know Red," he said, then got up and stretched his legs as she groaned. She did indeed know Red.

"Let me get another coffee, and then.."

"Then it's my turn," she finished for him, as she held her empty cup up to him. "I'll have another too."

"Hitting the hard stuff, huh?" he said with a smile. "I'm afraid I don't have the dutch courage I had here when I," he caught his father's eyes again, "the last time," he said with a shrug, remembering the beers he'd tossed back that night.

As he sat back down, Liz held her warm mug in her hands, and began. She told him of Alaska. Of the need to escape the city and be someone else while her body healed. Of how she had brought death and carnage in her wake. That no matter what she did, death followed her.

When she finished telling him of the men she had killed in cold blood, she leaned into him and sobbed against his chest. He held her as she cried, reliving the past trauma, as she begged him, needing to know what was wrong with her. With his arms wrapped around her, he held her close, kissing the top of her head. How could he tell her that there was nothing wrong with her, when he had wondered the same thing of himself so many times the past two years. He couldn't. Each of them would always feel that way. That inside each of them lived a part of themselves they didn't recognize.

"There's something else," she said, once she had quieted down.

"More?" he asked, wondering. Whatever it was, he'd listen to every word. "Spill it," he told her.

She took a deep breath, leaned back off him, clasped her fingers around his, and said, "What would you do if I told you that Red, the Red we know, isn't really Raymond Reddington?"

That got his attention. "What?"

"He's an imposter."

Head tilted in confusion as her words sunk in, he turned on the couch, facing her. "What are you talking about?"

And in the quiet of the cabin, with him hanging onto her every word, she told him about the bones in the duffel bag. Who the skeleton had been.

"Wow..." he whispered, shaking his head. "So this Red isn't your father, after all."

"No, the real Reddington was."

She looked away, and then sighed. "And, Ress… Sutton Ross didn't kidnap me. I planned that with him."

He gasped at that, remembering how he'd felt. The terror that had gripped his heart as he'd raced through the Post Office corridors to reach her, kicking himself for leaving her alone with Ross. And she had never been in danger.

"I'm sorry, I really am. But I needed to know! Red was never gonna tell me himself!"

He searched her eyes, seeing the truth in them, despite the fact she had lied to them on that day. "I know. I actually don't know how you do it, Liz, dealing with Red the way you do." His eyes narrowed. "He doesn't know that you found out he's an imposter and not your father, does he?"

"No, Red doesn't know that I know." She sighed, then leaned close. "And..."

"There's more?" He looked into her eyes. "Sorry, go on. I need to hear it all. Every last bit, Liz."

"Thank you." She told him about Jennifer, and that now she had a half sister who had a stake in finding out who Red had been. "So we, Jennifer and I, we're working on finding out why this man took over the life of our real father 30 years ago."

He nodded silently. It was a lot to take in. How could Red not be Red? He'd chased the man for years. Who had he hunted down? The real Red had been Liz's father, but not this man. Not Red version two. He shook his head. It was unbelievable.

When she finished speaking, they sat in silence. The crackle of the fire the only sound. The unspoken question hung in the air between them. Each of them searched for the answer in each others eyes after revealing their innermost secrets. Were they still okay with each other, now knowing this about the other?

"Are we…?" she whispered, the first to break the silence. Needing to know.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He could never walk away from her. Especially not now. His hand squeezed hers. "We're okay," he said, clutching her close once more. "We're okay, Liz," he repeated, his arms wrapped around her. With their souls bared, the weight lifted off each of them and they sunk into each other. Whatever came after this, they wouldn't be alone in it.

Then he took her hand in his as he rose from the couch. "Come on," he said, and she didn't need to be asked twice. Together they went to the bedroom, closed the door, and lost themselves in each other.

###

That evening, they sat in the darkness of the living room, the only light coming from the fire and the Christmas tree. They'd made love and slept most of the afternoon, finding solace and reaffirming their trust and belief in the other, and he felt pleasantly content. She felt the same, sitting beside him on the couch, leaning on him, as if her body could not bear to be apart from his.

He felt the same. He couldn't let her go. Couldn't take his eyes and thoughts off her. He moved a little while later to add more wood to the fire, and in the moonlight outside they could see it was snowing again.

"I could live here forever," she said sleepily as he sat back beside her. He lay the blanket back over them as they sat in the dark, the only light that from the log fire. "Can't we? Just forget everything and stay here?" she asked, chuckling softly against him.

They both knew forever at the cabin was impossible, but still he smiled at her. "Well, not forever, but we did have nine days off work," he said, "We could stay here that long?" Nine days he'd thought he'd have been climbing the walls. All those days he'd been dreading taking off work. And now...

"Let's do it. Yes. Just stay here until we absolutely have to go back to the city," she said against his chest.

"It's a deal," he told her, then glanced at his watch. 12:02am. "Merry Christmas, Liz," he said softly, and kissed her.

"Merry Christmas...Don," she said as they broke apart.

He sat up at that. He'd never heard her use his name. It sounded foreign, yet he liked it. And as soon as she said it, he knew. Ress was her work name for him. Don was...this. The name she'd use when they were alone.

"That's my Christmas present to you," she said, smiling at him. "I mean, I definitely know you now."

He smiled. Indeed, they had no secrets now, physically or emotionally. And suddenly, he wanted to tell her. "Liz..." But then he was afraid to, and stopped. What if she didn't reciprocate? How could he say those three words that weren't that simple. He loved her. He hugged her closer to him instead.

"I know," she replied, kissing his cheek. "I know." She snuggled into him more under the blanket and he felt her growing drowsy against him. Neither of them made a move to get up and go to bed, each too content and comfortable where they were. He thought she'd fallen asleep as he pulled the blanket over her more, as they curled under it together on the couch, the soft crackle and flicker of the fire filling the room.

He closed his eyes, holding her close, and he was half asleep when her voice came out of the dark. "I love you too."

THE END